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| Sweat and Blood; For Poo | |
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| Topic Started: Sep 14 2011, 12:07 AM (262 Views) | |
| Volksgeist | Sep 14 2011, 12:07 AM Post #1 |
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The Old Strategist focused his immortal energy on reaching the world he had once been part of. As he did so, the world of his own that he had only so recently created began to shiver and then, in a flash of what seemed like silver and sparks, and the sound of metal grating against metal as both tried to plunge into the other's source, the world he had been in shattered into a million pieces. The pieces fell down down down, deep into an ethereal darkness that devoured the glittering pieces and the god of War fell after them. As he drifted, he began to feel the pressure that one feels when they are falling. The sensation increased and the god began to tumble through the darkness, though he realized now that he was not in any sort of bodily form. He felt unrestricted, and yet as if he were being plummeted downward in an endless maw of darkness. Then, the sound of metal against metal. A flash of sparks in the darkness. Bellows and calls of men, screaming in anger and grunting in distress. A swishing sound, like an ebbing tide, and yet he knew it was blood being spilled on a nonexistent battleground somewhere far off. And still, the God kept falling and the noise increased until it seemed to engulf every bit of him. Just when the god began to feel like he couldn't take anymore, a sensation as if he were passing through a thin wall of rock hit him, and he instantly knew that he was in the mortal world. He chose to see. Below were giant jutting sections of black rock, capped with snow. He soared over them, high in the air. Soon, the mountains gave way to rolling hills, and the hills grew smaller until they were gentle slopes far below, covered in the tallest greenest grass. Then, he heard a bellow. Immediately, he changed direction and rocketed towards the source. "BASTARDS!" The interjection was followed by a deep grunt. Stout bodies littered the grass as the god passed over, and the marks of burning surrounded the grassy area. And then he saw it, the source of the yell. A stout dwarven man, with patches in his crude armor revealing skin with large bloody gashes in them, crawled slowly amongst the grass. He had one full ear and one that seemed to be partially torn off, and a wrinkled and aged looking face. He grunted again. He was rippling with muscle and completely covered in dust, dirt, sweat, and blood. He looked upward and the god caught sight of an empty eye socket. I am going to die here. He thought. I will die and then those horrific bastards will win ... Edited by Volksgeist, Sep 14 2011, 05:10 PM.
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| POOHEAD189 | Sep 16 2011, 01:14 AM Post #2 |
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Morek looked upon the all too familiar scene with typical Dwarven stoicism. A feirce battle raged on below him, and a single Dwarf stood...crawled...above the others. He was grizzled and tough, and horribly wounded. He took it like a true warrior. A true Dwarf. Not only that, but his mind was open to Morek. It filled the god with happiness and pride, to know he had found a mortal so much akin to himself. "Dwarf." he said to the crawling veteran. "Hear me." |
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| Volksgeist | Sep 16 2011, 01:49 PM Post #3 |
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The dwarf's mind went silent and he stopped crawling. He rolled onto his back and looked upwards, almost directly at the god of war who hovered above, watching the mortal struggle to stay alive. Who? Who are ya? What are you doin in my head? This head is Gramr's head, and you sure as hell don't belong it it! If you are one of those green bastards, I will cut ye ear to ear! Say your name and your purpose!" Though he was injured severely, it still seemed like the dwarf, who called himself Gramr, had some fight in him. The stout dwarf crossed his arms, remaining on his back and scowling at the sky as if in a starting contest with it. Something told the god that if such a thing was plausible, the sky would likely blink before the dwarf. |
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| POOHEAD189 | Sep 17 2011, 05:53 AM Post #4 |
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"Eh, stop yer grumblin' ye old longbeard! I'm here teh help ye!" Morek boomed to him. It seemed to echo across both of their minds, and Morek waited for a second before continuing. "So, yer name's Gramr is it? Thats a good, strong name. Its yer lucky day. For I am Morek, Dwarven God of War. And I'm here seeking a mortal willing teh fight for the glory of the Dwarves. |
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| Volksgeist | Sep 17 2011, 07:07 PM Post #5 |
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Gramr slumped downward. So, yer a dwarf? I don't know what a 'god' is, but if you have this kind of power, then I spose that you must be worth my time. But, if yer lookin for a dwarf to fight for the dwarves, you might have the wrong one. In case ya didn't notice, I am half blind and half deaf. If I warn't like this, then I would show those big green bastards a thing or two! Heh. But, as things are, I am just waiting for a dismal, dishonorable death to sweep me up. The dwarf's mind went silent. Blood was slowly pooling out of his gashes, but, from what the god could see, they weren't particularly that bad. He may be hurting quite a bit, but the dwarf wasn't going to die, something the dwarf seemed to misunderstand. However, being partially blind and partially deaf was in fact a problem. Depth perception would be effected and, of course, being able to hear orders and hear things sneaking up were also a vital part of surviving in battle. But one thing was sure about the dwarf, he was pissed off at whatever had done this to him and he wanted to kill them all. His anger was practically tangible to the god. Well, if ye want a champion to fight those bastards, and you can help me NOT die, then I spose we could have ourselves a deal. The god of War began to see a change in the dwarf he was speaking to. Indeed, it seemed that he was growing with a bright red light, and the world around him seemed to be fading from the god's view. The god knew, somewhere, that this dwarf had all of the right makings for a prophet. |
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| POOHEAD189 | Sep 28 2011, 02:10 PM Post #6 |
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"I thank ye kinsman. Together, we'll get back at those green bastards." Morek replied. He was truly happy to have found a prophet worthy and to his liking so easily. In fact, he beamed with pride. Morek felt Gramr's consciousness open up with a bright light, and the Dwarven God of War entered the Old Longbeard's consciousness. |
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12:36 AM Jul 11