Ramsay
08-14-2008, 01:17 AM
A little PVP, for the sake of argument everybodies human as I havent had my character run into any true 'monsters' or non humans (yet):
The din of battle had fallen and an eerie hush had descended upon the land, colder than the frigid ice and the snow drifts that covered it.
Stillness had been bought with the thick blood of man; a violent mural of crimson death and nerveless corpses centred around one, lone, solitary figure.
There he stood: deep set shoulders, menacing, incalculable grey eyes beneath a tangle of dark hair. Surrounded by his slain enemies he was a monument to wrath. His lean body seemed to posses a steely physique of iron forged through a thousand battles and the slick, oiled movements of a panther (an innate predatory motion that could only have ran through his veins as a bloodline trait).
The figure stood, defiant of the chill wind and frost about him, warmed by the steaming blood of his enemies he was a pale skinned pillar, an embodiment of raw force and power holding back the empty blue sky.
His eyes danced across the multiple husks of men he had forged that day and through a bestial grimace he lapped up every visceral wound produced and observed every stony face- sullen and bereft of life.
The emotionless grimace soon twisted into a wide grin as insanity etched itself into every distinguishing wrinkle and scar on his face.
The pale man revelled in the beauty caused by his destruction, rumbling laughter brought forth as he surveyed, with forsaken grey eyes, the suns rays dancing off sheets of ice and playing a rainbow medley of colours onto the broken swords and hauberks of his slain enemies.
"Blasted fools, all of you wasted a gift!"
Roared the figure with a voice of rolling thunder, between lightning strikes of insane laughter:
"You wasted the gift of life in this cold dead land. Your foolish leaders send sheep to kill a wolf- they should know by now that I am a slave to no man!"
A ferocious snarl crossed his face as he stared into the heathen sky.
"To no God"
Shaking his wild tousled mane he picked the most elaborately dressed of his enemies up from the ground at his feet. A gasp of air escaped the subject's lungs.
He was still alive.
Next to the massive pale warrior the decoratively dressed captain looked like a child, held by mallet like fists.
"Your head will roll on the alter of Khar'Ush, heretic"
Spat the captain through podgy, pursed lips as his legs kicked, his lungs vying for air and leverage over his superior's titanic grip.
Pleased the pale monster of a man bared his teeth as a wolf would, this generated a mocking, and mentally flawed smile.
"Tell whatever pathetic, bloodthirsty God you worship that you were slain bye Draven Grim- and watch your precious deity quake in fear!"
Upon the mention of his name Draven's words climaxed into a pirouette of blood and the harsh crack of snapping bones, his vice like grip breaking the captains neck like a rotten branch and twisting his cranium from its trunk.
His bloodlust sated Draven felt his heart beat slowly again and the pounding, incessant rush of adrenaline finally left his body. Grunting, satisfied with his job, the captain's head was casually discarded into the warm, pooling blood at his feet.
"Your head will roll on the cold hard ground. Here with the rest of us fool."
PS. could I have some feedback, it would be appreciated...TO THE MAX
The din of battle had fallen and an eerie hush had descended upon the land, colder than the frigid ice and the snow drifts that covered it.
Stillness had been bought with the thick blood of man; a violent mural of crimson death and nerveless corpses centred around one, lone, solitary figure.
There he stood: deep set shoulders, menacing, incalculable grey eyes beneath a tangle of dark hair. Surrounded by his slain enemies he was a monument to wrath. His lean body seemed to posses a steely physique of iron forged through a thousand battles and the slick, oiled movements of a panther (an innate predatory motion that could only have ran through his veins as a bloodline trait).
The figure stood, defiant of the chill wind and frost about him, warmed by the steaming blood of his enemies he was a pale skinned pillar, an embodiment of raw force and power holding back the empty blue sky.
His eyes danced across the multiple husks of men he had forged that day and through a bestial grimace he lapped up every visceral wound produced and observed every stony face- sullen and bereft of life.
The emotionless grimace soon twisted into a wide grin as insanity etched itself into every distinguishing wrinkle and scar on his face.
The pale man revelled in the beauty caused by his destruction, rumbling laughter brought forth as he surveyed, with forsaken grey eyes, the suns rays dancing off sheets of ice and playing a rainbow medley of colours onto the broken swords and hauberks of his slain enemies.
"Blasted fools, all of you wasted a gift!"
Roared the figure with a voice of rolling thunder, between lightning strikes of insane laughter:
"You wasted the gift of life in this cold dead land. Your foolish leaders send sheep to kill a wolf- they should know by now that I am a slave to no man!"
A ferocious snarl crossed his face as he stared into the heathen sky.
"To no God"
Shaking his wild tousled mane he picked the most elaborately dressed of his enemies up from the ground at his feet. A gasp of air escaped the subject's lungs.
He was still alive.
Next to the massive pale warrior the decoratively dressed captain looked like a child, held by mallet like fists.
"Your head will roll on the alter of Khar'Ush, heretic"
Spat the captain through podgy, pursed lips as his legs kicked, his lungs vying for air and leverage over his superior's titanic grip.
Pleased the pale monster of a man bared his teeth as a wolf would, this generated a mocking, and mentally flawed smile.
"Tell whatever pathetic, bloodthirsty God you worship that you were slain bye Draven Grim- and watch your precious deity quake in fear!"
Upon the mention of his name Draven's words climaxed into a pirouette of blood and the harsh crack of snapping bones, his vice like grip breaking the captains neck like a rotten branch and twisting his cranium from its trunk.
His bloodlust sated Draven felt his heart beat slowly again and the pounding, incessant rush of adrenaline finally left his body. Grunting, satisfied with his job, the captain's head was casually discarded into the warm, pooling blood at his feet.
"Your head will roll on the cold hard ground. Here with the rest of us fool."
PS. could I have some feedback, it would be appreciated...TO THE MAX