Sword of Sacrifice 2 : The Swords of Our Sons

Casually wiping blood from his vest and pocketing the contents of a dead mans wallet, Danbtr strolled over to a group congregating outside the bar. Finishing his bottle of whiskey, he walked up, and said, "Ogres, eh? Should be a nice post-drink brawl. Name's Danbtr Whoreson, and I hope our blades are bathed in the blood of hellspawn soon."

"I am the Royal Jester Poliloko, at your service my Zanbatir brethren.", he said, bowing extravagantly.

Cassandre narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Never had he met a Zanbatir that wasn't a monk at Southgard, much less two in the same room. The one with "Whoreson" in his name merely compounded his suspicions.

Pointing, he said, "I'm Sandy, and the lanky one is Jegd." From behind him, Jegd laughed.

"Jets Rivers." The tired knight said, rubbing his thumb along the pommel of his blade in a nervous fashion. "Well met, everyone."

"Well met to you all as well, the other two are Devron and Shiron and I am Raziel as I told, Sandy, we are from the Drathalus order, it is nice to know some trained people are in the fight as well"

Raziel then turned around and surveyed the village.

"Any of you have a plan of attack"

"They won't attack." Jegd responded.
"Not at first." Sandy finished.

A flash of light, immediately followed by a cracking noise.

The thunder was here.

Corvus had been upstairs for quite some time now, listening to the bar brawl and drinking the last of his blood reserves.

When someone shouted something of Ogres, the conflict seemed to reach a high note, and then ended abruptly. Corvus donned his faceguard and other equipment and headed downstairs, hoping to finding a blood pool, perhaps.

He found what he was looking for, bottled up a bit and tucked it away in his pack. Walking outside, he found several people intent on defying what he estimated was an Ogre attack, greeting each other casually.

Corvus V. Marius was a man accustomed to and adept at combat. However, no threat is to be taken so lightly as this.

"Gentlemen, are you intent on staving off this attack, or would you rather stand around and chat?" Corvus said, watching the ogres grow nearer still.

"Allow me to lend you my aid." He finished.

Corvus drew his Sword, and eyed the ever-closing ogre troop.

"Alas the vampire is correct." Jegd said, drawing fearful looks from a few bargoers that had deigned to stay behind. They quickly left. "Come, let us go forth and meet our guests."

Wordlessly, Sandy followed Jegd as he strode out into the gushing rain. Jets stood where he was for a moment, and shot a grim look at the others. "Be wary friends, for the night is cold, and full of demons."

With that, he drew his sword and stalked out after the monks.

Cimeries let his blade thud on the wooden floor and sat down in a chair staring at the dead bodies.

“Twas a fun battle young lads,” he said to the dead, “But I am yet the victor.”

Another man came walking from the top of the bar and strode outside to talk to the others. As it appeared they were about to leave Cimeries unconjured his scythe and walked out into the rain.

“Be wary friends, for the night is cold, and full of demons,” spoke the knight as Cimeries walked outside.”

“Demons you say?” said Cimeries growing a smile upon his face, “I have met demons in my time. They are quite kind fellows once you get to know them…”

Cimeries shrugged and tilted a glass of ale he had carried out of the bar with him.

“Twould not be good to call them by their name however,” he began after downing the glass, “They don’t seem to like that…”

Annette readied her bow and stayed in the distance, away from another potential fight. She wasn't a fighter at close range, she preferred to stay at a safe distance.

She worked past her fear of humans and humanoids and went towards the group.

"My name is Annette Marquis Von Hellington.", she announced, standing behind someone. "Of the Marquis clan of Elf Folk."

"Tis a pleasure mi'lady but as you see
we have other places to be.
Come ahead,
away from the barfight dead.", Poliloko said.

"Do you always talk like that?", she asked.

"Is there a problem with my talk?
If you don't like it, you can always walk
away from us and back to your hut,
you loud mouthed little....", Poliloko said, trailing off as lightning struck again.

Poliloko snapped his fingers, and from nowhere a sword appeared. A ghost sword, able to be wielded or allowed to fight on its own.

Poliloko allowed it to free float.

"Onward, gentleman and ladies.", Poliloko shouted, rushing towards the ogres.

"To victory!", he called back.

Danbtr stared at the hulking masses advancing toward the village. He sighed, uttered a small curse, then drew his blades. Calling out, he yelled, "I am Danbtr Whoreson! I shall give you the chance to flee, before I severe your nether regions and shove them up what you Spider Fuckers call assholes!"

Danbtr blinked, then charged, shouting expletives the whole way.

Poliloko was about twenty feet away when he stopped suddenly.

"For honor's sake, I shall ask you to leave without a violent offense.", he said.

"For God's sake!" shouted Jets through the streaming rain, "Do you want to die so badly?! Simply fall against your swords!"

"Yes," Added Cassandre, "Ogres are not to be taken so lightly." Jegd remained silent.

Lighting flashed for the millionth time. The first ogre cleared the fences as the thunder shouted its rage. On either side of the flimsy wooden partition they called a gate, pathetic guardsmen fell left and right in an attempt to avoid being trampled.

And so, the ogres silently filed in, one by one. Neither growl nor groan sounded their arrival. The only sound to be heard was the titter of the rain, and the rancor of the heavens. They gathered in a loose circle in the deserted town square where Jets had nearly lost his life. All around them, women and children nervously peaked out of their windows, fearing the worst. Cassandre and the rest were mere yards away from the closest beast.

Silence.

Then no longer.

"OOOOOOOOOWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH" sounded the horn of the conqueror.

Then he was there, on the horizon atop the back of a massive eruvat, its wings; the color of ebony and blood.

"It's him." Jegd chided, licking his lips in anticipation. Jets stiffened, then spoke, "The ripper draws near."

Cassandre laughed dryly, "But is he here to rip, or is he here to reign?"

Only thunder answered.

Corvus stared into the eyes of an ogre. "What is your mission here?" He thought, as if he could communicate telepathically.

Then a loud horn call broke the silence, shortly followed by idle chatter from his comrades.

"The Ripper?" He questioned aloud. "One-Hundred and Fifty Seven years have I lived, yet never have I heard such a name. Would you kindly...."

Corvus then fell silent as he witnessed something terrible come into view.

--- The Shoustegahl ---

"I hunger," Shoustegahl announced as he greedily eyed the village from atop his mighty beast. "We are well provisioned, my lord." Percival answered, trying his best not to look down.

The Shoustegahl growled. His lieutenant flinched. Lighting did what lightning did best, and the thunder followed like an obedient child. "I hunger not for food Percival, but for blood."

The lieutenant chewed his lip, "Sir, our orders are to assimilate them into the Order, not destro-"

"I'm WELL aware of what our FUCKING orders are!" Shoustegahl snapped, very nearly seizing his adjutant by the skull. "I merely hope they give me cause to break said orders."

Percival was relieved that the rain washed away the nervous sweat that would have beaded his face otherwise, "Please my lord, don't do anything drastic."

"Hmph. Prepare for landing. Sound the horn again."

Raziel and entourage had just about to rip into one of the ogres when a horn sound and something came down from the sky.

"What the fuck is that" Raziel having be raised killing monsters, did not greet fear often, but right now he had invited it inside for some "coffee".

Poliloko stood for several long moments, holding his whip in the ready stance and prepared to caste a Lesser Haste spell.

"Why aren't we being attacked?", Poliloko asked, rolling up his whip. "We're all just standing here with out weapons at the ready, grunting and snarling at each other."

Sandy's eyes darted from the one threat to another, searching for the best method of defense, should the shit hit the fan. "Jegd-" he whispered, leaning toward the older man, who quickly cut him off, "I see him. I thought he'd be taller."

And then, without warning

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! sounded the horn once again.

Immediately stopping in midair, the eruvat tilted upwards for the briefest of moments, as if it were stalling against a downward current. And then, quick as the lightning that flashed around it, the beast careened straight toward the ground.

Nearby men fled to avoid the possibility of being crushed, but the ogres stayed perfectly still, even as the eruvat landed dead in the middle of their circle with a resounding boom.

"HEAR ME!!!" Arose a screeching voice of pure malice, "COME FORTH, HE WHO GOVERNS THIS PLACE!!!"

"Nevermind" Jegd said with a whistle, "He's even taller."

And indeed he was: Standing as tall as any ogre, he was shrouded in a deep blue cloak that bulged widely at the sides, suggesting someone of enormous mass. He wore a huge tower helm, at least a yard in length, that covered his entire head. In truth, nothing could be seen of his body except his piercing white eyes... They were perfectly round, like roll plates, and were nearly as big.

This man was truly a monster, if he could be called a man at all.

“Perhaps if things go out of hand we can use my abyss to escape,” said Cimeries.

He held his right hound out away from his body and black blood began to flow into his veins.

“It will take some time for me to prepare however,” he began, “So do not piss them off to readily…”

With that a small black ball of energy began to form in his hand.

Poliloko didn't like the look of things. These Ogres, the new stranger and his scraggily companion.

"Haste!", he hissed under his breath. He moved slightly faster than he normally would, snapping his fingers and becoming invisible. He ran, ran as fast as he could away.

As the jester began to veer away from the group, one of the ogres disappeared, only to reappear directly in front of the tiny man. It would seem that escape would prove difficult.

"Do NOT agitate an ogre!" Jets warned, with acid in his voice. The last thing they needed right now was a fight.

"My floating sword gave me away, didn't it?", Poliloko asked.

"Sure did.", Annette replied. "Also, where the rain isn't hitting the ground."

"Curveball.", Poliloko whispered, readying his whip and grabbing onto his summoned sword. He swung the whip back and forward, catching onto a spiky appendage and pulling himself up and striking the ogre in the face with the sword. Blood spilled out, but was diluted by the pouring rain.

The Ogre staggered back, and then struck the ground hard, destroying the sword and the illusion of the jester.

“That asshole….”, Annette said softly, casting her head downwards.



Several miles away, Poliloko grinned from ear to ear. He was very well pleased with himself for this trick, and didn’t even feel a tinge of regret for those he just left to potentially die. They were savage, angry people. He was happy, a happy Jester.

It wasn’t raining here, but the storm would be here soon. Poliloko hopped over a bush to find a dead animal carcass lying in a clearing.

“Poor thing, it just died where it lay and nothing cares for it.”, Poliloko said, his happy now gone and sadness returned in its place. “I shall give it a burial.”

Poliloko had not even touched the creature when he was suddenly shot with at least a dozen arrows in the back. He felt a liquid running down each shot and he thought that it was blood.

He reached back and pulled one out, and found that it was a type of needle that was sticking out of him. Poliloko passed out, and felt tiny hands carry him off.

"Well, I just gave up on men.", Annette announced. "The only one who shows some actual skill just left us."

"Shit happens.", Jegd replied.

"I...can't do this again.", Anne said softly, tears welling up in her eyes. She pulled an arrow and notched it on her bow. "I won't be captured, tortured....again."

She fired the arrow at the new stranger, then notched and fired another and another.

Poliloko saw nothing but darkness, was he in some sort of a tunnel? Running water sounded nearby.

"I think he's waking up...", a squeaky voice said.

"About time. We carried him to the boat, now he can walk himself to the dragon.", a huskier voice replied.

"I don't think the dragon will want to eat him. He might taste funny.", a normal sounding voice replied.

"Ha! You said he would taste funny because he is a clown!", the squeaky voice said.

There was the sound of someone being hit with something. "Minx, shut the hell up from now on."

"Yes, Tinie, sir.", Minx whimpered.

"Dangoth, take off his bag.", Tinie ordered.

And there was light! It burned!

Poliloko winced at the sudden brightness and closed his eyes tight. When they finally adjusted, he found himself lying in a small boat, his hands tied behind his back.

“On your feet!”, Tinie shouted, and Dangoth lifted him up. Dangoth was a burly dwarf, Minx a tiny gnome, and Tinie was also a gnome, except he had an unnaturally tall hat.

Poliloko walked, to avoid having his beautiful frame roughed up. They followed behind, Minx rubbed the side of his face and gave a pitiful look at Tinie every couple of feet, but nothing more was said.

They came upon a horrendous sight. A man, if you would call him that, hooked up to both mechanical and magical devices. Dozens of tubes ran from the machines to him, and vice versa.

“Tinie, my nephew….who do you bring?”, the dragon said, struggling to make the words come out.

“I am not quite sure.”, Tinie replied bluntly. “I can see his past, and he watched untold horrors at the hands of the dark knights, and more recently, escaped from Wessenridge.”

“Much like….yourself.”, the dragon struggled. “There are things you need to know, Poliloko, and I am the one with a few answers that you need.”

OOC: the people I introduced, feel free to kill them at will.


The only full elf present started shooting as Raziel went to make his move, only to be stopped by a familiar sound of the hunting horn followed by double stepped marching advancing from over the hill.

"The order must have sent troops to this kingdom to reinforce them" Shiron said happily, only to grow dour as the Kin moved into site, with the normal standard replaced by the a sense dread, the mark of brotherhood was burned over with a upside down cross with two dashes to its right planted on there breast plates.

Raziel recognized the hunter in the lead and walked up to him only to be stopped by a blade leveled at his chest.

"Bralic, what are you doing why is there a mark" But Shiron was cut off

"By order of the high hunter, you are ordered to summit to the re-education and to be re-tasked to the aid of the lord commander, to hunt his foe and kill those who oppose him"

"Who is this lord commander"

Raziel was answered as the man pointed the monster of a human that had dropped from the sky.

"Submit or die"

The three looked at each other than back at Bralic

"We will never aid in the killing of innocents, you are" That was as far as Devron got before five arrows pierced his chest, he fell dead where he stood"

"I hope you do not share his opinions..."

Raziel and Shiron looked at each other, nodded then charged into the group of there former brothers, flesh and bone meeting steel.