Barricade

A nervous archer scanned the horizon, a horizontal hand shadowing the sun. A pair of golden, luminescent eyes squinted, eyeing its surroundings for even the slightest hint of movement. There was a slight breeze in the air; it lightly played with shoulder-length dark yellow hair as the tips billowed in the wind. Pink moistened two halves, a tongue rolling over dry lips. Bitter cold pierced the air, freezing even the furriest of creatures. In the archer's case, a light leather protective overlapped by a cheaply made chain-mail. A bubble traveled down a tube; sticky saliva traveling down a twitching throat.

Suddenly, out of the corner of the archer's eyes, movement. It was all bow and arrows as the ranged weapon was hoisted from the archer's back and into his hands where he took careful aim. He nocked a custom-made arrow over a thin bow string that looked as if it would snap at a moment's notice. His head tilted so it could get a better view. Yes! There was movement again, in the distance. A dark, shadowed shape rose hesitantly, then fell, a wave in the distance crashing on dry earth. As this eccentric behavior increased in pace and confusion, a sudden realization dawned on the archer.

It's toying with me.

The archer's previously steady, but cautious aim wobbled. His fright grew by the second, the minute, the hour! God, it felt like the devil himself was out to get him. The dark shape's phlegmatic behavior was unbearable; it was like lightning striking across a dark hazy sky! The nervous archer suddenly called, no, screamed to fellow archers loping around on the ground.

He could hear the frantic stepping of boots climbing up the ladder behind him. Faster, damn it, faster! He thought! The archer had slowly realized an eerie thought; Not only is it toying with me... it's getting bigger. The enemy approached. His calls to allies suddenly turned into an inhumane cry of pain.

---

The two archers climbing the ladder stopped, shocked, as the cry of their companion was heard. It resounded throughout the valley, an iconic sound that was relative to the losses of war. One problem with that; this was no war these men were fighting. They shrugged off their moment's horror and proceeded up the ladder, nearing the archer tower stand. It was meant for two, but one more could cram themselves inside, provided the other two were skinny enough.

It was the skinny archer climbing above the slightly heavier one that spoke first. "Quickly Roan! I suspect our more handsome companion is in trouble!" As he said this, the speed which he climbed increased. The fellow below him muttered something, and then replied.

"Do you take me for a fool Fol? I swear, I'd kill you myself if it weren't for those pesky enemies surrounding the barricade..."

"I doubt you'd be able to pull of such a grievous task you pot-bellied bowl-licker!"

"I wouldn't be so preposterous you stick-spined buffoon!"

Their childish bickering continued until another scream was heard, even more heart-wrenching than the last. Fol stared down at Roan as they exchanged horrified glances and they scrambled up the battlement even faster than before. Fol's hand grasped the last ladder rung and started to hoist himself up before the head of their companion shot out from its standing.

"Gotcha!" Glowing, golden eyes playfully danced with the receding sun as a harmonious laugh was heard throughout the barricade. "Have you any idea how much fun it is messing with you two? I swear, it's almost as fun as stabbing a bear in the leg repeatedly for hours on end."

The only reason why it was their companion risking his hide instead of Fol or Roan was because he was also a well-known psychopath with a dangerous mood-swing. One minute he would be frothing at the mouth cursing out the Gods alphabetically, the next he would be prancing around, gaily singing songs consisting of the Gods he had just cursed. It quite scared everyone which caused everyone to think him dead first, but he had proved himself a capable fighter in the past.

"Wha- Sant, you fool! I ought to wring your neck for this!" Fol swore at him loudly. Beneath him, Roan called, "Wha' the bloody hell's going on up there?"

"Sant faked death!"

"He did?"

"Most certainly!"

"I ought to wring his neck for that!"

"Just my thoughts, Roan!"

"Shall we?"

"Indeed!"

Fol reached up, his other hand firmly grasping the rung, to attempt to get a handle on Sant but Sant merely retreated backwards, then forward to do something absolutely wicked. Laughing, merrily, he gently grasped the arm Fol was using to keep his bearings and wrenched it backwards with sickening force. Fol tipped backwards, his feet the only purchase left. He tried to lean forward again but failed and he started to scream his pants off. Roan hastily grabbed his falling companion with both hands and in doing so, started to tip backwards himself. Sant smiled and waved as they fell backwards to a grateful receiving Earth as their screams and curses echoed throughout the valley.

A loud thud could be heard later, then silence.

---

Adhering to the rules, if you haven't noticed by now, the setting takes place in a barren wasteland devoid of any life whatsoever... except for an unseen enemy. A small band of warriors part of a much larger army is set in this desolate area fighting a hopeless war against enemies they can't see. What they wait for is the oppurtune moment; the moment to strike.

All characters are automatically already inside the barricade. Since this takes place in an obviously fictional world, I will allow the optional race of elves. The military has made a pact with them allowing elves to enlist. Kinda crappy, but oh well. I want to try something different. Looking at some of the more active roleplay's, I've noticed that there are always character sheets or, "playwrites".

Y'know.

Name:
Age:
Race:
Hair Color:
Eye Color:
Etc:

That jargon. I wanna try something different. I've roleplayed on a good many sites, and the majority of them don't use character sheets. Let's try that here, eh? Of course, like the elves, info sheets are optional if you really wanna use 'em. I am merely encouraging the use of description through paragraphs.

Moving on, the little charade you saw a little way's ago was an interlude to my character, Sant. The other two are merely pawns, and they are up for grabs if anyone wants them though, I doubt it.

And if there's anything wrong with this, moderators, tell me with haste.

((First try at describing a character like this so sorry if it's not all that great.))

The dry warm air blew through the encampment creating the illusion of a peacefull town where merchants would open up there stalls and sell there wares, where kid's would run through the streets playing a simple game of tag with each other and where the elderly would sit in the cool shade and remaness about there younger days. To anyone that resided here could tell you the days of that peace had long been gone due to relentless fights between the inhabatins of the camp and the mysterous creatures that live outside the town.

The slow rythmic breathing moved the large battle axe up and down with every breath Boh took, the day was a nice warm day. Boh layed relaxed agaisnt the wall looking out towards the barran wastelands that he was supposed to be gaurding. If it wasn't for a loud screach coming from one of the archer's lookouts located in various spots throughout the encampment Boh could almost fall into a light sleep. Boh grumbled to runing his hand through his light brown hair to get the dust out of it before standing up to see what all the rucus was about.

The reliazation of what unfolded made a frown form on Boh's ancient looking face. It was Sant fooling around when he was supposed to be on look out for any fowl creatures that may be outside the towns walls. Boh walked over to the ladder that led up to post and started to climb down to it.

"Storm! i'm done with my post get your butt up here!" Boh yelled at the person waiting at the bottom of the ladder to replace Boh at the post.

Boh strapped his large battleaxe on his back and proceded towards the archer post where all the commotion was coming from.

((Hope that works))

Name: Belgariad Dagon (Call him Belg for short)
Age: 56
Race: Dwarf (You never said anything prohibiting other races, so I thought it was okay)
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Blue
Etc: The medic for the detach army. Short, muscled, all topped with a strong accent. Despite his years of experience in saving lives, he knows how to hold his own in battle. He carries a dwarven waraxe, buckler, and a beer mug on and off duty. When he's not performing what he was recruited to do, he drinks the time away. He claims that it "Hightens his senses."

Name: Doxis Reltua
Age: 24
Race: Human
Hair Color: Blonde
Eye Color: Blue
Etc: A cocky, young soldier who just enlisted in the army, but excels far greater than his peers. Skilled with the bow and shortsword, he's the perfect assassin. He wears leather armor, mainly for sneaking, and carries his shortsword at his left hip for when he needs too quickdraw. His bow hangs from the quiver full of poisoned arrows at his back. The poison is often reffered to as the "three step poison" because it spreads quickly through the victims body and kills them in almost no time at all. He has no friends in the army, but he's taken quite a liking too the dwarven medic whom everyone calls Bel.

((I didn't have enough time to post a lot of definition, so I went with the character sheet. And if anyone is wondering, yes I stole the poison idea from Terry Goodkind. :p But hey, his is ten steps. >_>))

(Spiritorange, for your first try, that was great. A little more description on clothing could have been used, but other then that, that's fine. I'm going to edit this post later on or tomorrow.)

- - -

The whistle of an arrow whizzed through the air as it passed through space and time hurtling torwards an unknown object. Screaming, an invisible fire burned through the wood as it lusted for its target no man could ever match. In truth, it had only been a few seconds. The arrow made a deadly thud as it embedded itself into the wood next to a wide-eyed youth sitting alone, waxing his sword. Like any other boot-licking fool, he was surely readying for the upcoming inspection due in a few hours. The requirements were simple and easily understandable: clothes needed to be washed, swords needed to be polished as well as footwear, any metallic objects in posession shined until it reflected heaven itself, and anything else the soldier could think of. Creativity was admired when preparing.

In a time like this, however, most people honestly cared naught for inspection.

Sant was one of them.

The youth continued staring at him, wide-eyed. Sant pouted. The teriffied boy, bemused by this sudden betrayal, blinked rapidly, tears already starting to flicker on and off. Sant spat on the ground, his saliva phlegmatically falling, twisting and turning, until it died and splotched itself onto the rotten earth below. His dull, placid gaze pierced the boy's nerve, his soul if you were into that sort of thing. Sant's chin rested on his interlaced hands as he lay on his flat belly. After a while, the boy awkwardly stood on the spot, swaying. Then he turned on the spot and ran, abandoning his cleansed sword.

Sant's dulled face started to muddle. The corners of his mouth faintly twitched. A smile started to infect, coursing through his face, his arms, his legs. His body. His soul. Soonafter, his laughter burst forth irratatingly echoing throughout the barricade for a second time that afternoon. God, he thought. How much fun I having messing with the youth's amateurish mind. His head moved from side to side in disbelief.

Behind him, he heard a roar. Amused, he swiveled around while snatching up his bow at the same time. He held it at the ready, scanning the horizon yet again. His eyes widened in amazement yet again, only this time, it wasn't fake. Face twitching, he looked to the bell right of him. Grasping the decaying rope, he roughly clattered it against the rusted tin causing a ringing noise within.

"We've another one, on the horizon! A mile and a half northeast, a small battalion I'd say!" Despite the situation at hand, his voice remained cheery and playful. "Look! Here they come now!" Merry laughter encompassed the barricade again as the twanging of a bow string was heard, an arrow let loose upon the oncoming battalion of shadows.

"Beer... beer... this is.... beer..." Belg choked out as he tilted head and mug in the typical drunkard drinking motion. He was in a large, well put tent, it was a sort of lounge for the troop. Tables, chairs, and torchess were strewn across the dirt floor. He dropped his mug to the table, empty. He took a moment to regain what was left of his senses, and bellowed "Morgan, more brew, my table, hurry before I have to kill someone!" He tugged his long braided beard as if to keep steady.

"You ninny, I've lost count how many damn tankards you've had, out, OUT!" Morgan, the typical elven barmaid, hurried toward him, stopping at arms length to glare at him. They stood there for a good five seconds staring into eachothers eyes, until Belg whispered.

"Please?" He let out a broad childish smile that beamed through his beard and long hair.

Belgariad couldn't recall the next few moments completely. He remembered fingers pinching his ears painfully, then a splash of cold water. He was now flat on the floor outside the lounge entrance, his beard and medic robes soaked. A young boy fled by in tears, but Belgariad's liver full of alchohol only put his mind to one voice in the distance.

"We've another one, on the horizon! A mile and a half northeast, a small battalion I'd say!" Despite the situation at hand, his voice remained cheery and playful. "Look! Here they come now!" Merry laughter encompassed the barricade again as the twanging of a bow string was heard, an arrow let loose upon the oncoming battalion of shadows.

Belgariad struggled himself up, and walked sulkingly towards the commotion.

"What the hell is all the commotion about!?" Orem Etageeld had just finished his shift on watch at the eastern wall and returned to his bunk, only to hear the blasted bell toll. "In the name of every god under the sun, I'm TRYING TO SLEEP!" He shouted off towards the bell, only shortly thereafter realizing what the bell was. "Oh sh-" he was cut off by his bunkmate hurriedly shoving him out the way. Though Orem was somewhat of a tall soldier, he wasn't exactly a brick wall. His long, golden hair was groomed, his platemail polished to the point of reflecting the entire world around him, and his leather under-clothing stain free, for once.

He grabbed his sword, a giant of a blade at over four feet, as well as his crossbow and quiver of bolts, and made for the source of the ringing fast as he could under the massive weight of his equipment. It wasn't long before his pale blue eyes set upon the source of the bell and its ringing. "Sant...that bloody idiot! If he's getting in the way of my sleep..." Orem continued on his way to the wall, hoping to see an actual problem. It wouldn't be the first time Sant interrupted his sleep, but he couldn't recall Sant ever ringing the bell for no reason. In his ten years in the service of the military since he joined at the age of 18, he had never known anybody quite as annoying as Sant, but even Sant knew when to stop.

((Inform me if anything needs changing please. Far from my best work, but its late and I'm tired...and church in the morning...))

[I]"We've another one, on the horizon! A mile and a half northeast, a small battalion I'd say!" Despite the situation at hand, his voice remained cheery and playful. "Look! Here they come now!" Merry laughter encompassed the barricade again as the twanging of a bow string was heard, an arrow let loose upon the oncoming battalion of shadows.

"Jesus another one.... must be a pack of them..." Boh mumbled under his breath

Swink, the sound of Boh pulling his battleaxe out of its shieth was the only sound Boh made as he sped off towards the direction the yell came from.

"Damn, i hope who ever the unlucky bastard was that found the beast is still alive."

Boh ran outside the towns gate to see it was Sant, the fear of some poor rookie being killed quickly turned into aggitation that knowing Sant only screamed out to annoy anyone that could hear him.

((Sorry for my really late post))

Name: Zhilys Razeq
Age: 42

Zhilys is not human. He is not a dwarf, an Elf or any other well known race. He came from a place that himself can not remember. It is well out of the known world and the reason he is at the Barricade would be a too long story to tell.

Zhilys is not a male or a female. Zhilys has no sex and the way his race reproduces is unknown to him. It is unknown to him if there are any others like him.
He never shows his face because it caused him alot of grief in the past. He was never welcome anywhere if the others knew how he looked.
He had the eyes lower than the normal human and also smaller, besides the two tiny holes used to breathe. He could see better at night than during the day. No lips can be found on his face. Small fends near his angled chin were the origin of his speech.
Zhilys does not eat.

Long legs and a thin body show nothing of the true strenght within him. Wicked fast and with a superior agility to the elfs, but he does not excel in inteligence like them and in their superior ability to use ranged weapons and daggers.

--

"We've another one, on the horizon! A mile and a half northeast, a small battalion I'd say!" and the loud noise of an old bell was heard.

'Hm? Already?' tought Zhilys while getting up from the warm tavern roof.
His clothes rustled in the ground causing a cloud of dust to raise, sparkling in the sun light.
He was wearing black loose pants and a hooded leather jacket dyed black. Worn out black boots in his feet and a improvised black mask covered his face.
With some potion bottles in his belt and a strong kama(a short scythe) at his back.

'Can't even rest decently this days...' Zhilys jumped down with an acrobatic flip and dashed near the bell.

"Look! Here they come now!" followed by a mad laughter.

'Sant. It could only be.' Sant was one of the few persons he actually enjoyed in this forsaken place. He was excentric, but he was one of the best fighters and could be extremely wise when he wanted to.

Others were running towards Sant, but Zhilys got there first.

"Another battalion of wimps, Sant?" Zhilys said with his acid laughter. "Need a hand from the reaper?"

((Hope it works for you. I know I'm not following a normal race, but I felt I could insert some mystery with my characters origin. If it is not alright, I'll change it all -_-"))

PS: Go 666 post count!

"The reaper, eh?" Sant laughed, maniacally. His laugh penetrated the earth and lifted it out of its permanent hell, shoving bits and pieces into even the most stoned of mouths. Sant withdrew his bow and arrows simaltaneously, a vague and mysterious grin plaguing his seemingly corrupt aura. Nocking an arrow, he raised the bow, aiming at the oncoming creatures, their furious stampede raising the dust of the earth, the thin layer of silk blinding what afternoon sun was left. A snicker escaped his throat, and he suddenly turned, letting an arrow loose nearly centimeters away from Zhilys' head. "Nothing personal, 'kay? I was getting bored as it is!"

Sant bounded away, an arrow flying from his person. The projectile soon afterwards struck one of the beasts in the cerebral area, the creature screaming and shouting an inhuman cry of forlorn forgotten and ancient time. It fell on the spot, its companions mercilessly trampling its deceased body into the time-worn ground. A black pool of blood rushed from the ground like a petal in the morning, a strange and foreign fluid. The blood rose up from the ground, encompassing some of its former companions, pulling their writhing bodies into the earth. The blood dissapeared momentarily afterwards, a few of the beasts with it.

"Interesting!" Sant laughed.

He watched peacefully the morbid scene of the beast dieing and he had to agree with Sant.

'Interesting!'

Zhilys couldn't attack from far like Sant, so he jumped outside the barricade and started to dash towards the creatures.
They weren't many, but they were big. They looked like nothing Zhilys had ever seen. Dark skin and pale eyes contrasted and made the huge jaws even more noticable.
One of the beasts opened his mouth but emited no noise. Then a barrage of ultrasonic sound bashed against Zhilys, like a strong wind filled with mental daggers. His head started to ache, but he tried to overcome and to be rational.
Setting his mind free from the mental blockage he had only the time to avoid being rammed by the nearest creature. The smell of death came to him as the side of the huge beast passed near his nose.

"Putrid evil. You shall no longer breathe and infect our living air!!" he yelled like a maniac.

Pulling off his scythe and spining upon himself he plunged the curved blade of his weapon into the side of the beast. Remembering what had happened when the creature bled he readily backflipped out of the way.
It was nasty. The own blood of the creature consumed it, causing the beast to scream in such a way a diamond could shatter.
The strange blood vanished on the dry earth, swirling, leaving the ground spotless like nothing had never happened in that place.

'That was one, but there are still many to go. I'm glad my scythe's blade has a spell to repel blood. Otherwise I wouldn't be so cheerful.'

((Hope that works again.))

As Zhilys picked off the creature, sounds rung from the distance. Muffled shouting, becoming more and more audible by the second. Once close enough, that authentic voice could have only been one person. Then a throwing ax sped from the garrison, lodging into a creature's chest, the force backflipping it. It landed with a loud thud, and was consumed by it's own blood.

Belg struggled over the barricade spikes.

"Fight! I love fights! Who loves fights!?" Apparently he was still drunk. "You wanna fight eh!?" He ran clumsily towards the combat, giggling like a clown the whole way. A creature, immediately noticing and underestimating his size, barreled towards him. The onlookers from the garrison stared and shouted warnings toward Bel, but be paid no attention and still ran like a buffoon. The creature was close enough to touch him now, and made a fatal swinging motion with it's claws.

For a moment, Belgariad looked doomed, but he had a drunkards luck. Tripping over a stray rock, he headbutted the creature and they both fell to the floor. Belg, the alchohol hightening his violence, didn't even bother to use his tomahawk. He gripped his buckler and beat the thing senseless, eventually smashing it's neck, crushing and breaking it.The creature kicked pushed him off, and wailed in pain. It choked on it's blood, painfully melting from the inside.

Doxis sighed. Bel was always getting himself into trouble, but this was more than he could handle. He nocked an arrow in his bow and aimed for the creature at Bel's back. The arrow found its place in the creatures neck, piercing all the way through. It fell to the ground and let out a loud shriek almost melting before their eyes.

He ran toward Bel to help him, dodging anything in his way. Without his armor holding him back, he ran pretty fast, but was in terrible danger. But he couldn't just let his friend die out there! He kept running forward, determined to reach Bel. A creature he hadn't seen with his peripherals jumped in his way. Doxis dropped his bow and the mettalic ring of a sword being pulled from its sheath rang out. He cleared the enemy in one swift jump and swung as he lept. The sword made contact with the creatures arm, but had almost no effect. No matter, he kept running. These things didn't seem that fast.

He had finally reached Bel and helped him up. "What the hell were you thinking?!" he screamed. Bel just gave him a blank look and a slight giggle after a moment's pause. Doxis sighed at the man again and grabbed him by the shoulder, urging him back to his post. "Let's get moving, we're both vulnerable like this."

((Hope that suffices. Sorry for the late reply, I just couldn't think of anything...))

He had finally reached Bel and helped him up. "What the hell were you thinking?!" he screamed. Bel just gave him a blank look and a slight giggle after a moment's pause. Doxis sighed at the man again and grabbed him by the shoulder, urging him back to his post. "Let's get moving, we're both vulnerable like this."

(While Bel isn't exactly an important character, he is still Fieren's character and you just controlled it. I can't do anything about that, since he's not mine, but I'm just pointing it out.)

(While Bel isn't exactly an important character, he is still Fieren's character and you just controlled it. I can't do anything about that, since he's not mine, but I'm just pointing it out.)(Oh its cool, me and Death know eachother and have roleplayed with eachother for awhile. As long as he doesn't throw my character off his personality its fine.)

(Ah, I see. Sorry for the misunderstanding, my apologies Death.)

((Seem everytime i get around to posting you all are waiting on my post to cotinueXO )

By the time Boh had arrived outside the towns gates all that lay infront of him was the missed chance to show his skill with his battleaxe. Swhink..Boh's battleaxe slide back into the sheilth he had just pulled it from.

"Damn, seems i'm late to yet another skirmish." Aggitaion could be heard in Boh's voice

Boh's green eyes flickered with anger as he watched the last beast take its last breath

((sorry if the monster/beasts weren't all killed, but thats what i got from reading all the posts))

((It's ok Folion, just don't let it happen again! D: Kidding :p))

Doxis rushed Bel inside the gates and led him to the nearest medical tent. "I don't know if anyone was injured, but just in case, you better stay here." he said. At first, it seemed like a good idea, but he took a second glance at Bel's condition and rather said "You know what, I don't think that's a good idea. Lay down and take a rest."

He left the tent and headed off toward the armoury. That fight had cost him a bow, he was in need of another one.

((Short post, but all I could work with...))

Kneeling down next to a leftover puddle of blackened blood, Sant struck his sword into dead Earth and inspected it, interested. From afar, the blood appeared still, but when studied closely, swirling chaos was what you would see. He calculated whether he should dip his finger in it or not.

He did.

His finger touched the icky black veil and he shivered. Suddenly, he felt a shock. A spasm. His arm started to twitch violently. A corrosive essence and corrupt thunder, it raced up his arm and struck his brain like a harpoon through a fish's heart. He jerked back and pulled his arm away, only to find that the blood clung to his skin. He wanted to scream, but it started to overtake him and his body.

"If it wouldn't be any trouble..." Sant murmured, quietly. "I'd really appreciate some HELP!" His scream, like his laugh, echoed through the valley and shook tree and rock alike.

Zhilys was near the barricade wall and almost jumping inside when he heard Sant.

"I'd really appreciate some HELP!"

'Uh? Why does he have to always get in trouble.'

Looking over his shoulder Zhilys saw a strange substance taking over Sant's arm and shoulder. Zhilys couldn't believe he was so stupid to that point.
He ran towards sant with his scythe on the right hand while yelling

"For the thousand devils below, I never tought you could be so stupid!!"

By the time Zhilys got there, the substance had already taken over half Sant's body and he wasn't looking too good. He had an idea, but it could be dangerous.

"This might hurt, but you're probably in pain already."

He scratched the parts of Sant's infected body with his scythe, in hope that the ancient spell would be enough to repel that fluid of darkness. At start it looked like nothing happened, but slowly the blood started dripping to the sand and fading away. In some minutes Sant was free.
He looked sick and weak, so Zhilys grabbed him and brought him to the barricade.

"Why did you do such a stupid thing? Your curiosity will be the end of you some day." he whispered to Sant.

((Good enough?))

"Let go of me sonny!" Belg struggled, and eventually broke free. Snatching Doxis' water bag, he poured it over himself, belting it back to Doxis' belt, patting his shoulder.
Shaking his face into sobriety, he regained himself. The drunkards face was gone. He was Belgariad, artisan medic, savior of countless lives in this hellhole.
"Been waiting for an oppurtunity like this lad." He walked to the puddle of corrosive blood, kneeling down to it. It was slowly seeping down to the ground. Belg took a small vial out of his medic pouch, he scooped a bit of the blood, corking it before it could escape.
"I'm going to study this, find out more about these lil' bastards." He dusted off his medic robes, and paced to his quarters.

Zhilys rushed to his aid in time. The acidic blood had enveloped half of his body before Zhilys arrived, the corrosive liquid burning his skin. Despite, he refused to shed a tear, nor cry out in pain. No intention of showing weakness of any sort shined through the cracks; only darkness and silence subsided. The wicked tip of Zhilys' scythe lightly scratched the blood searing across his chest. After a moment, there appeared to be no reaction, but the blood soon began to slowly drip off his chest.

A smile of glee glowered on his face.

Removal of the blood, however, had reduced his energy by a considerable quantity, and he appreciatively took Zhilys' offer to escort him back to the barricade. Soldiers in arms, the two trudged slowly back to their base against the receding sun.

"Why did you do such a stupid thing? Your curiosity will be the end of you some day." So came Zhilys' warning. Sant's insane grin played his face again.

"On the contrary, comrade. My curiosity could save all our asses some day as well..." A pause. "...However, if you're not the optimistic sort, then I guess curiosity could be fatal. His mind traveled back into the past. "Have you heard the tales of a curious little monkey? It always did interest me. Much rather would I actually drown the beast then watch its demise through curiosity." His grin faded into the night.

"Night approaches with haste. Nevertheless should the beasts still come, I recommend that our other comrades retreat into the barricade." Sant then whispered, quietly, "The beasts gain... strange abilities in the dark."

"The beasts gain... strange abilities in the dark."

'Hmm' Zhilys heard about it before, but never anything in detail or even close to a decent description of what those abilities were. 'Strange abilities?'

"Strange....abilities?" He asked Sant. "What kind of abilities? Any sort of magic?"

Zhilys had always been interested in magic and even served a magician for a year so he could pay the enchantment on his scythe's blade.

He could do magic, but in such a small scale it was barely noticable.
To produce a single flame of about the size of a peanut, it would take almost too much energy from Zhilys. He had been advised not to use his magic powers unless it was strictly necessary.
It's obvious that his magic powers came with his heritage, but he knew nothing about such matters.

Zhilys stared blankly at Sant's face waiting for an answer to his questions. He wanted to know more.

Doxis just watched as Bel bolted out of the tent and to the pool of blood. All he could do is sigh, once again, at the man. He made such odd decisions in life. Doxis didn't want to see him get killed.

He hurried over after grabbing a nearby bow. Oak wood, not the best, but at least it was durable enough. He kneeled beside Bel. "What is it? Any idea?" he asked. He was as curious of these enemies as everyone else, but one thing he questioned was why there blood was sentient. It seemed as though these creatures were nothing but animals, but being controlled by some sort of substance. That was his speculation, at least.

He looked over to Bel, waiting for an answer.

Strange... abilities? Zhilys' asked. "What kind of abilities? Any sort of magic?" Zhilys' tone increased with anxiety during the second portion of his question. He seemed to have an interest in magic, for a little bit after he stayed in silence, wandering in his thoughts.

"I've payed witness to it firsthand!" Sant murmured, almost superstitously. "It's astounding that I can't even fathom where the origin of these beasts are! Hell most certainly isn't it; they seem too... I don't know... just something about them that makes them otherworldly. About those powers..." Sant's head turned, focusing on the battle area behind him.

"Camoflauge is obvious, which makes it dangerous enough to fight when night's cape fall over the Earth. Another seems to be the power of teleporation. When I was returning from a skirmish, I could hear the beasts approaching behind me and when I turned, I could see their evil-eyes glowing in the dark. However, the eyes dissapeared and I momentarily assumed that they had closed them to blend in. That was not the case, when I heard them approaching from the side." A shiver raced down his spine.

"I'll expand on it later, when we're in the barricade."

"What is it? Any idea?"

Bel paid no reply for a moment, uncorking the vial for a moment. In about a second or two, the blood slugged to the top of the vial. Belgariad recorked the vial in an instant.

"My God.... like it 'as a mind o' its own Doxis."

Shaking the vial slightly, the blood replied violently, spinning and vortexing up and down the bottle.

"Look at that, amazin', and frightenin' at the same time. Every single cell in these this blood type can attach to one another, maybe becomin' a being o' its own, as you and I saw. It must have devoured the creature it was in? Hell, I'm not sure if those monsters we hammered were hosts or shells created by this blood. Amazing! Amazing!"

It was hard to believe this man was a pathetic drunkard less than five minutes ago.

Belgariad stared back at the blood puddle he retrieved it from, completely dried out without a trace. "

"Strange though, the blood seems alien to this world, dying if left uncovered. I'm guessing when the body suffers a fa'al wound, the blood devours it, trying t' keep alive desperately."


But Belgariad shook out of his intellectual babble. This was a war, not an apothecary. "I need time with this sample, The blood seems to be the life an' death of these things, so it's perfect for testing. If I can find a weakness, a fatal one, any allergy or any negative side effect, we might have our trump card against these demons."

Bel only confirmed his fears of the blood being sentient. He was right though that measures be taken to find any sort of negative reactions. Doxis looked around and saw Sant and another man entering the Barricade, so he decided to return as well, Bel close in tow.

When they arrived, he turned to Bel and said "Keep researching that blood, it'll prove useful. In the meantime, I'll try to see if I can't find any information about the beasts. Someone here has to know what we're up against."

((Another short post...sorry. Just not in a very creative mood today. -_-))

"The beasts gain... strange abilities in the dark."

A deep frown appeared on Boh's face as he heard these word's. He knew all to well what strang abilities some of these beast could do at night. A sudden wave of remenbrance went over Boh takeing him back to the time when his whole village was obliterated in what seemd mere seconds by the beast that romed these now waste filled lands. Boh turned around pasty white....

"I think i will stay out here and keep guard for a little while.... i need to think about some things..." the words barely managed to leave Boh's lips before he feel to the ground with his back the the towns walls...

Boh watch as Zhilys helped Sant back into the town and as everyone else followed before looking back out towards the barren lands that lay in front of him.

((hope this works))

"I've payed witness to it firsthand!" Sant murmured, looking a little bothered. "It's astounding that I can't even fathom where the origin of these beasts are! Hell most certainly isn't it; they seem too... I don't know... just something about them that makes them otherworldly. About those powers..." Sant's turned his head, looking to the battlefield behind him.

"Camoflauge is obvious, which makes it dangerous enough to fight when night's cape fall over the Earth. Another seems to be the power of teleporation. When I was returning from a skirmish, I could hear the beasts approaching behind me and when I turned, I could see their evil-eyes glowing in the dark. However, the eyes dissapeared and I momentarily assumed that they had closed them to blend in. That was not the case, when I heard them approaching from the side."

"Teleportation? Time bending abilities in such beasts?" Zhilys was amazed and really preocupied with this information. "I heard only the strongest magicians could use such arts. But...beasts?" Then an idea came to Zhilys mind.

'Maybe the beasts are controlled by some magician, or several magicians.' It was a scary tought. 'But what would have powerful magicians against us? Are they after us? Or something else of value?' Zhilys felt he had to share his toughts with Sant so he repeated his toughts out loud.

((Sorry I haven't posted, I've been out of the house for a majority of the past four or five days. You can assume that Orem was out on the front, seeing as his character is meant to be on the front-lines.))

"And that makes six!" Orem yelled, counting the number of the beasts he felled with his blade. This one, though it should have fallen in two from the last flash of his blade, simply fell, blood splashing about. "So many of them...WHERE THE HELL IS EVERYBODY!?" He couldn't help but shout. He noticed that something was wrong when he looked around and saw that his comrades had all begun a retreat to the barricade. "Oh, sure! Leave me out here, ya' blasted idiots!" He sheathed his blade and began a sprint back to the barricade, hoping to make it there before the gate was closed.

"Moving too slow...gotta lose some weight..." Orem stopped and dropped his crossbow and quivers on the ground at that moment, and quickly threw-off his chest-piece, which landed on the ground with a loud thud. "Muuuuch better!" With his newfound speed, reaching the barricade was easy to achieve. He had never enjoyed the heavy armor he wore, it restricted his movement greatly. "I think I'll stay without the chest piece for now, so much easier to move..."

He looked around the gate, and saw an injured Sant being dragged inside. Seeing Sant carried by another man eased his somewhat churning stomach. Though Sant was annoying, he was invaluable in battle.

"Camoflauge is obvious, which makes it dangerous enough to fight when night's cape fall over the Earth. Another seems to be the power of teleporation. When I was returning from a skirmish, I could hear the beasts approaching behind me and when I turned, I could see their evil-eyes glowing in the dark. However, the eyes dissapeared and I momentarily assumed that they had closed them to blend in. That was not the case, when I heard them approaching from the side."
Hearing this, Orem couldn't help but yell, "Good idea Sant! Now when he sees it firsthand, he won't panic so much!"

Orem had his own ways of battling these monstrosities in the dark. To put it simply, a blind man can only trust his ears to see for him. Orem fought these creatures with his eyes closed, relying only on what little noise they made in the first place. Thanks to this, he was often posted on night watch, which he hated as it interfered with his sleep.

((Tell me if I need to change anything.))

((Just posting to ask if this is RP is dead or if the creator is just takeing a really long break?))

((Just posting to ask if this is RP is dead or if the creator is just takeing a really long break?))

Most of the time, it's dead. There's usually no need to ask - just let it die.