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Cooking orcs on bonfire
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Furious flames burst out everywhere in the open alley a bit off the main street. Two of the barbarians had been burnt so viciously that even their orcish bones had been turned into ashes. One of the three orcs who had searched for cover further back had been cooked inside a wooden cargo cart. Rather stupid to hide under wood from flames. But in the end, he was just an orc with orcish brains. The orc in the warehouse was uninjured, but his eyes were in flames. Flames of fury. He burst out of hiding only to find that two of his companions remained. Both of them had been slightly burnt, but nothing a warrior orc couldn't handle. In an instant, they were charging at the wounded, spearless dragoon not any further than 20 meters away.
The orc who had chosen to run through the rotten timber walls hadn't been as lucky as his fellows out on the alley who had been burnt to nought but ashes in an instant. Yet he was still alive, fighting to keep it so. The old rotten house was fully built of wood and whereever the material wasn't rotten, it was so dry that even a tiny spark would start a fire. And so he was, battling his way through flames of hell. His cape had burnt a good ten seconds ago, as had his hair. Somehow though his skin remained intact and unburnt. Yet his body was melting inside the heavy steel breastplate. It was hot, unbearably hot. But he was one of Vadoks personal guard and he had to survive, no matter what. No bonfire could make his cold warriors blood boil. Only lust. Much for his surprise the next rotten wall he tackled showed no resistance at all and he was out on the street, half-cooked yet alive. Without much of a thought he unarmored himself. The heavy steel breastplate was thrown to the ground. As it touched the cool surface, steam sizzled off it. Next his ringmail pants. Half naked, half burnt, half dead, he stood on the street. But it didn't take long to notice his enemy, the lady dragoon. And a fellow of him charging at her. Not a second later flames hit the orcs back while some kind of aqua magic shot out of the dragoons mouth and cut through the thick steel armor of the orc. The orc stumbled, took a step, coughed, took another step, raised his longsword. And then he fell like a stick, boiling blood crawling out from the newly made cavity in the steel armour.
" You boilt my friend!" Roared the orcish barbarian while searching for his blade. It seemed tho he had dropped it in the flames. But it didn't matter, he was bigger and more muscular than the small dragoon no longer than a dozen meters away from him. He started running while enduring the pain from burns. That very moment he noticed three of his company doing the exact same, running at the dragoon.
"DIIIIEEEE!" screamed the orc to release some of the pain within his body.
"DIIIEEEE!" Roared the other three orcs, happy to see that another one of them was still alive.
For much of their surprise, cheers were heard further South the alley. At least 11 well armored soldiers were running towards the scene and were going to be there in less than 20 seconds, sure to slaughter any rebels without doubts.
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Mr. Black - That's a rude way to enter ones house
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As the old merchant was enjoying his rich tea, a loud din from just above him surprised him so, that he almost choked on a piece of meat. Finally free from the killer intentions of the evil meat, the merchant stood up, smiled to the guards accompaning him and disappeared into thin air.
" Hohoho ... it's too early to have a Santa Clause in the chimney. And in all honesty, you seem to have missed the chimney by a bloody meter." James was as cheerful as always, but when he actually saw what he was facing, the words good meter that were intended were switched for bloody meter. A black knight coated with blood. Not the most pleasant vista to be sure. Enough to make most scream, run or cry, but it took much more to truly scare the old gnome. True, seeing a black knight covered by blood did had given him a slight fright, but that was it, just a slight fright. After all, if it wasn't for the blood oath to never directly harm anyone, he would be ranked first in the mercenary organisation, no doubt about it. Yet there was this blood oath and therefore he could only support and defend with his vast knowledge in the arcane arts.
" Now, are you here to join me in my dinner or to kill me?" James asked without any hints in tone if he was angry, afraid or actually hospitable. Meanwhile, a magical aura appeared around him and three sword of water appeared out of nowhere, ready to charge at the knight.
OOC: Btw, these swords are just a bluff. He can't actually harm you =D
Cooking orcs on bonfire
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Furious flames burst out everywhere in the open alley a bit off the main street. Two of the barbarians had been burnt so viciously that even their orcish bones had been turned into ashes. One of the three orcs who had searched for cover further back had been cooked inside a wooden cargo cart. Rather stupid to hide under wood from flames. But in the end, he was just an orc with orcish brains. The orc in the warehouse was uninjured, but his eyes were in flames. Flames of fury. He burst out of hiding only to find that two of his companions remained. Both of them had been slightly burnt, but nothing a warrior orc couldn't handle. In an instant, they were charging at the wounded, spearless dragoon not any further than 20 meters away.
The orc who had chosen to run through the rotten timber walls hadn't been as lucky as his fellows out on the alley who had been burnt to nought but ashes in an instant. Yet he was still alive, fighting to keep it so. The old rotten house was fully built of wood and whereever the material wasn't rotten, it was so dry that even a tiny spark would start a fire. And so he was, battling his way through flames of hell. His cape had burnt a good ten seconds ago, as had his hair. Somehow though his skin remained intact and unburnt. Yet his body was melting inside the heavy steel breastplate. It was hot, unbearably hot. But he was one of Vadoks personal guard and he had to survive, no matter what. No bonfire could make his cold warriors blood boil. Only lust. Much for his surprise the next rotten wall he tackled showed no resistance at all and he was out on the street, half-cooked yet alive. Without much of a thought he unarmored himself. The heavy steel breastplate was thrown to the ground. As it touched the cool surface, steam sizzled off it. Next his ringmail pants. Half naked, half burnt, half dead, he stood on the street. But it didn't take long to notice his enemy, the lady dragoon. And a fellow of him charging at her. Not a second later flames hit the orcs back while some kind of aqua magic shot out of the dragoons mouth and cut through the thick steel armor of the orc. The orc stumbled, took a step, coughed, took another step, raised his longsword. And then he fell like a stick, boiling blood crawling out from the newly made cavity in the steel armour.
" You boilt my friend!" Roared the orcish barbarian while searching for his blade. It seemed tho he had dropped it in the flames. But it didn't matter, he was bigger and more muscular than the small dragoon no longer than a dozen meters away from him. He started running while enduring the pain from burns. That very moment he noticed three of his company doing the exact same, running at the dragoon.
"DIIIIEEEE!" screamed the orc to release some of the pain within his body.
"DIIIEEEE!" Roared the other three orcs, happy to see that another one of them was still alive.
For much of their surprise, cheers were heard further South the alley. At least 11 well armored soldiers were running towards the scene and were going to be there in less than 20 seconds, sure to slaughter any rebels without doubts.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mr. Black - That's a rude way to enter ones house
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the old merchant was enjoying his rich tea, a loud din from just above him surprised him so, that he almost choked on a piece of meat. Finally free from the killer intentions of the evil meat, the merchant stood up, smiled to the guards accompaning him and disappeared into thin air.
" Hohoho ... it's too early to have a Santa Clause in the chimney. And in all honesty, you seem to have missed the chimney by a bloody meter." James was as cheerful as always, but when he actually saw what he was facing, the words good meter that were intended were switched for bloody meter. A black knight coated with blood. Not the most pleasant vista to be sure. Enough to make most scream, run or cry, but it took much more to truly scare the old gnome. True, seeing a black knight covered by blood did had given him a slight fright, but that was it, just a slight fright. After all, if it wasn't for the blood oath to never directly harm anyone, he would be ranked first in the mercenary organisation, no doubt about it. Yet there was this blood oath and therefore he could only support and defend with his vast knowledge in the arcane arts.
" Now, are you here to join me in my dinner or to kill me?" James asked without any hints in tone if he was angry, afraid or actually hospitable. Meanwhile, a magical aura appeared around him and three sword of water appeared out of nowhere, ready to charge at the knight.
OOC: Btw, these swords are just a bluff. He can't actually harm you =D