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West
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Post by West on Jul 3, 2017 1:44:23 GMT
It was cold. As it almost always was in the harsh environment that made up the country of Fokradiin. Despite summer's official arrival, the climate in the northern province didn't appear to get the memo. Chilling winds still swept through the area- their bite enough to set teeth to chattering for most people unaccustomed to the country's lifestyle. Though no snow blanketed the ground at this time of year, breathing yet let out a small puff of mist with each exhale. A subtle but constant reminder of the cold ever nipping at a person's endurance. Especially a foreigner's.
Even with the continuous wind, the world felt eerily quiet. Noises that would normally remain unregistered- the distant call of birds, soft crunching of undergrowth, padded footsteps of hidden wildlife- seemed amplified whenever they disturbed the thick silence permeating through the air. None so much as disruptive, however, as your own footsteps. With each step of your foot, the noise it creates feels practically deafening in comparison. Each crunch of earth underneath sounds painfully loud as you move forward. The town you only just left- a small one north of Hjall- already feels so very far away. Even if you glance back to see the lights flickering in the distance, the sense of being well and truly alone out among the wilds settles heavily around you. You are at the mercy of Fokradiin now.
But you find you are not alone.
As every step brings you closer to your goal, your mission, you find yourself spotting a large figure in the distance. Even from this distance their oddity is obvious. Large curved horns sprout out from a helmet resting atop their head and concealing their features with the shadows it creates. Peculiar and ancient looking armor, like that seen in history books of the nomadic ancestors of the country, adorns this individual in iron and fur. And as you come even closer, more details come to light. Like the large and dangerous looking greatsword bared and resting tip-first in the ground before them, while two large and gauntleted hands rest on its pommel. And the fact their image seems to glow the faintest light blue, with small wisps of matching color wafting off them occasionally like smoke.
That horned helm turns towards you as your footsteps bring you ever nearer to this individual. Even should you have stopped, they would eventually spot you. The giant greatsword is lifted and stabbed into the ground once more with a loud metallic ting! A voice, deep baritone with a mysterious echo to it, calls out towards you. "Hail traveler! It has been long since another has dared come out this far to see me. I half feared your people would refuse to send me a worthy opponent, or could not produce one, and thus damn me to search for my death for an eternity. So!" Again the greatsword rose and fell, the stranger leaning forward on the blade slightly. "Are you the one to challenge me? Are you the one to give me a worthy death at last?"
DM Notes: Are you the one? Tags: Daniel Caim
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Post by Daniel Caim on Jul 6, 2017 1:18:48 GMT
“ The Righteous Side of Hell." Daniel hadn’t been expecting it to be this cold when he’d set out for Forkadiin. True, the hunter had prepared himself for the worst in terms of frigid temperatures—extra layers and thermal boots and anything else he could bring without bogging himself down—but this country’s weather was something else entirely. The winds still cut through his layered clothing like a knife despite his best effort to keep it at bay. It was as though the land itself recognized him for the outsider that he was and was doing its best to either kill him or force him to turn away from his purpose.
He wasn’t very fond of either option so he pressed on regardless, pulling his coat tighter around his shoulders.
It struck the old wolf how eerily quiet it was. Even with the bitter cold, there should’ve been… something around for him to hear. Every so often there would be a bird singing away or some small animal trekking through the underbrush and it would be cause enough for Daniel to stop, sniffing the air for a threat. His searching would usually amount to nothing and he’d continue towards his destination. Even his own footsteps might’ve as well been as loud as gunshots. The quiet was making him as jumpy as a fresh-faced recruit. He didn’t appreciate the feeling; it was almost like he was the very last person in the world and he the distance from the nearest town only served to hammer home that lonely feeling.
Daniel’s hand fell subconsciously to Blackhammer’s handle for comfort. The familiar feeling steadied his hands and slowed his racing heart as it always did as he drew a deep breath through his nose (the locals had given him advice not to breathe though his nose to not bleed as much heat with his breath). He closed his eyes, praying to his patron for a successful hunt. His opponents up to this point had been some of the most dangerous up to this point. Magi, well-trained, well-equipped mercenaries and thugs, spirits; all could’ve been the end of him, yet he’d been triumphant against them all. Yet this may have been his most dangerous yet. Through all his victories, the old wolf had been supported in one way or another, either by his brethren or by others of various natures. Here though? Here he was alone. Worse still, his new foe was one that had slain all that rose to challenge them.
The old wolf reached into his pocket and pulled out an old polaroid (almost unheard of in this modern age). Lexie’s smiling face greeted him when he looked upon the picture. She was much younger in the photo—barely into her teens and held comfortably in his arms. Daniel was smiling here as well. The photo captured the two of them in one of their happiest moments and that gave him strength. Daniel pressed the photo lightly to his lips and kissed it before returning it to his breast pocket and pressing on.
He wouldn’t falter here.
He couldn’t.
Daniel felt the spirit long before he caught sight its steady blue glow. Curved horns like that of a bull adorning a steel helm, ancient armor worn by warriors of the great epics, and a menacingly deadly sword told the old wolf all that he needed to know about the figure. There could be no doubting that this was a warrior and the ethereal smoke rising from his form spoke of his nature.
His heart raced as he approached the figure, stopping only a few feet away. A metallic ting! pervaded the air. He listened quietly while the ghost spoke his peace. Then, he spoke in turn.
“I suppose I am,” Daniel answered. “I’ve come a long way ta see you, so I guess it’s only right that I give you the fight you’ve been looking for.” Curiosity got the best of him. “Why all the trouble though? I’ve only met one other person like you and they weren’t too keen on a fight.”
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Post by West on Jul 6, 2017 2:59:00 GMT
A deep and rumbling laugh came from the large warrior before Daniel. It sounded hearty and almost cheerful- as though the two had shared in a well meant joke. The greatsword was lifted once again and moved closer to the side of the hulking figure's body, leaving one hand free to pound a fist against the breastplate. It rang out with a metallic clang! of metal-on-metal before the fist was extended towards Daniel. "Haha! That's the spirit! I am always ready for a good fight, and by your stature I can see you are a warrior too. We will be a challenge to each other indeed. Already I can call you kinsman for that, and if you can give me what I seek then by this battle as test I name you my *blóð bróðir." The warrior's tone came off as jovial. Happy. As though the two were old friends meeting and not two strangers about to fight to the death.
However there was a felt shift in the atmosphere upon Daniel's question. A derisive, annoyed snort sounded from the helm. The grip on the greatsword's pommel grew tight for a moment. "Bah; then they must not have shared too much with me at all. To fight is to live to the fullest. Combat is the truest expression of the self; you are laid bare on the battlefield. Out there it does not matter what your title is, or where you come from, or who you are. What matters is how strong your will to fight is, how determined you are to survive, and how smart you are to do so. Battle reveals what you are. The weak are made plain, the strong live on, and our clash of steel sings Her praise. There is no greater glory than to fight a worthy opponent. And there is no more honorable a way to leave the living world than to be slain by one stronger than yourself." He said proudly.
"That is why I seek a worthy death- a worthy opponent to send me off to the afterlife as She intended us to go. Not," Here a deep growl left the armor-clad figure, the sound menacing in it's frustration, "A death caused by deceit, as I was given! A dagger to the back..." Suddenly the greatsword was lofted single-handedly and swung in a mighty arc before the warrior. Not to attack Daniel, but its steel sung eerily in the wind as it cut through the air. "I will not accept something so pathetic as the means to my end. No, that is why I sought out warriors- true warriors- who could give me the death I was supposed to have. A death in combat. Not one at the end of an assassin's blade."
The greatsword was once more stuck tip-first into the ground as the armor-clad figure heaved a heavy sigh. "As of yet, I have not found an opponent capable of granting me this boon. But you..." The horned helm turned towards Daniel once more. There was the feeling of being heavily scrutinized from unseen eyes within the helm's shadows. "You, I think, shall finally give me what I seek. And if not... Then I shall grant you a worthy death in return, kinsman."
DM Notes: *Blood Brother Tags: Daniel Caim
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Post by Daniel Caim on Jul 10, 2017 1:11:28 GMT
“ The Righteous Side of Hell." Daniel allowed himself a conservative grin at the ghost’s words. It’d been a long time since he’d been called anything but a hunter—worse on more than one occasion; it struck a chord with him. The word spoke to something within his soul that he’d always felt on the battlefield. He continued to listen as the fallen warrior spoke of why he sought a worthy opponent and it continued stirring the feeling. The old wolf could recall feeling something similar as he faced Alaric and the murderous water spirit. A thrill rushed through him as his imagination painted a picture of the things his opponent described to him.
“Sounds like a helluva way ta die,” Daniel said. “Guess I can see why you’re still lookin’ for a fight like that, huh?” He knew that he wouldn’t want to go out with a whimper, but rather a glorious blaze, the kind that legends were made of. When he did finally die, Daniel wanted it to be a meaningful death.
But that was neither here nor now.
It wasn’t his time yet and he had no intention of robbing Alex of her father for a second time. “Alright then, guess that we should get this thing started. Ya’ve probably been waitin’ long enough for someone like me ta come along. Ain’t no sense in makin’ ya wait any longer.” Daniel’s hand fell instinctively to Black Hammer’s handle for the second time that day, but he paused before drawing the weapon. This ghost wanted an honorable death and using the firearm almost seemed… unfair somehow. Daniel took his hand away from the weapon and drew Raze-Lighter and Frost-Carver from their sheathes. Then, he charged, slashing for the ghostly warrior’s throat.
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Post by West on Jul 30, 2017 8:11:58 GMT
Eagerness seemed to waft off the large warrior as Daniel responded. The air, already charged from the watchful stillness of Fokradiin, felt nearly electric with anticipation. Like the calm before the storm. Clearly the warrior was pleased by the other's answer. No longer did the sword rest upon the ground but instead held firmly in hand. Prepared.
Waiting.
And as Daniel reached for his weapons, the blade waited no longer. With a hearty laugh that rolled and rumbled through the surrounding scenery like thunder, that gleaming ethereal blade spun upwards in a deadly arc. It's steel sung eerily through the air until it clashed against Daniel's blade in a ring of metal on metal, deflecting the blow away. With it, in new close proximity to the living warrior, came a biting draft of cold that felt like an embodiment of the very chill surrounding them both. As the metal had connected, a little burst of sparks and ice had come from the warrior's sword, somewhat spraying danger in the face with newly made frost. Then in a similar rush, the warrior charged forward to meet Daniel; forgoing his blade for the time being to instead bull rush the other man and slam a large-sized fist towards his stomach to knock him back a few feet. Regardless of whether or not it hit, the warrior would keep going- all the while speaking. "Then let us fight, warrior! þiggja várr bardagi, Lucivry!"
With those ancient words coming from the large figure in a battle cry, that singing blade came swinging towards Daniel in a very swift arch regardless of how he'd reacted to the sudden rush from earlier. Bringing with it the horrific chill that seemed to emanate from the blade itself as it drew closer. Either way as the battle well and truly began, the sense of finality about this encounter settled in.
Only one of them would leave this glorious clash now.
DM Notes: N/A Tags: Daniel Caim
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Post by Daniel Caim on Aug 21, 2017 19:08:51 GMT
“ The Righteous Side of Hell." Daniel hadn’t expected his first attack to be a successful one, but it served the purpose of revealing two things. The first was that this warrior was far faster than the old wolf would’ve given him credit for. He’d whipped his blade around for a quick counter that sent a burst of sparks and ice soaring into the air. The old wolf decided that he’d have to be far more vigilant and thoughtful in how he struck. The second aspect revealed was the simple fact that it was much colder in close vicinity to the phantasmal warrior. It bit into his flesh with gnarled teeth, threatening to slow his movements.
The simplicity of the defense worked against him when the ghost powered a closed fist into his stomach. Daniel would redirect the blow with his off-hand enough that he was still standing, but the breath would still be driven from him as he slid back several steps.
Daniel would gather his wits and meet the ghost’s charge with one of his own. He would cross his blades to attempt to catch that of his foe. Then, he would try to redirect the blade’s momentum to throw the ghost of balance and press his attack with a sequence of quick strikes aimed at the warrior’s legs and arms. Regardless of how the assault was met, Daniel would spin away to gain distance and fall into an easy stance placing most his weight on the balls of his feet.
A smile would creep across his features. “Looks like my work’s cut out for me this time,” He would mutter.
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Post by West on Aug 22, 2017 19:56:56 GMT
Now that the battle had well and truly begun, the very air around the warrior seemed to hum with energy. As if the very act of battle was strengthening the ghost's presence on this plane. The visage became more clear, like a living, breathing being rather than a soul looking for its final rest in a clash of steel. Not that the sword clashing into Daniel's felt any more or less real either way.
As Daniel caught the chilling blade with his own, the sheer force put behind the swing would be felt as it pushed his arms down close to the hunter's head. But with his experience, the greatsword's edge was directed off to the side rather than straight down Daniel's middle to cleave him in two. The warrior was made of far too solid a balance and battle-hardened a foe to be put off balance, but it did present the hunter with an opening.
As Daniel's blade slashed out they made contact with the warrior's arms and legs; some clinging against the ancient warrior's armor uselessly while others dove between the wrought iron. Though it was clear the blows connected, no blood appeared on Daniel's blade. But during his frenzy of strikes, an armor foot was lifted to swiftly shoot out and kick Daniel back even as he retreated to gain some distance. Some damage was dealt, but the behemoth of a man still stood.
"Ha! I would hope so!" Boomed the ghost as he pressed forward, giving Daniel very little time to breath. The cold blade lashed out in it's own fury of strikes, the warrior once again showing off impressive speed with the weapon despite its size. "A good battle isn't one that lasts a mere moment, kinsman! It's one that makes you feel glad to be alive!" Spoke the figure even as his sword sped outward in deadly arcs meant to take advantage of the distance Daniel put between the two. One such swing drew the warrior's blade up overhead to prepare for a furious downward strike, leaving his torso temporarily vulnerable should Daniel be swift enough to lunge in for an attack.
DM Notes: N/A Tags: Daniel Caim
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Post by Daniel Caim on Sept 18, 2017 21:12:51 GMT
“ The Righteous Side of Hell." Again, Daniel would rely on his training to help deflect the blow as best as he could to avoid taking the full force of the kick. He was starting to get a good grasp of his opponent’s strength, and it wasn’t anything to be trifled with. A test of pure strength would likely be the death of him, so he settled into a defensive posture to better dodge and roll around the icy weapon, blocking and deflecting only when absolutely necessary; more often than he would’ve liked.
It was baffling how quickly that ghostly blade could lash and strike with enough power to rattle his bones. The wild grin on his face would continue to grow while he fought. These were the types of battles that he lived for! One mistake, one misplaced foot or oversight, could mean the end for him and the rush that it gave him wasn’t something he’d trade for the world. The old wolf lost himself completely to the deadly dance and the world contracted until it was as though only himself, the ghost and their immediate surroundings existed. He could almost see the individual dents and scars on his opponent’s armor, feel the cold thrum of energy emanating from his foe, hear the pounding of his blood as his heart hammered away against his chest.
And then, he saw it. There was a pattern to his enemy’s attacks. Each stroke of the blade was powerful and came in sweeping arcs, but they left him open for a just a moment. That was the key!
Daniel would continue to bide his time until the right moment when an opening made itself apparent. When the warrior’s weapon rose over his head, the old wolf would waste no time exploiting it. He would dive in, sliding his feet and kicking as much snow as he could into the specter’s face. Then, he would aim the points of his blades towards the warrior’s open chest alongside a vicious snap kick aimed for his knee.
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Post by West on Sept 19, 2017 17:35:25 GMT
The snow kicked up towards the specter’s face and made him grunt. At this close of a proximity, Daniel could almost make out the ghosty visage that lay behind the helmet’s opening. And as Daniel’s blades plunged themselves into the chest of the warrior, nearly luminescent blue eyes flashed beyond the shadows of the helm. The blades had not pierced his heart, but they had certainly inflicted fairly grievous wounds.
But rather than cry out in anguish, the grunt transitioned into a loud roar.
Pain erupted from Daniel’s shoulder as the large pommel of the great sword crashed down upon his right shoulder-blade; the warrior’s abdomen engaging to add more power behind the blow. There was a nearly audible snap! as the bone gave beneath the weapon’s force. As the white-hot agony surged outwards from the wound, so too did a furious bite of pure cold. A layer of frost actually formed around the epicenter of the impact along Daniel’s skin. The freezing chill it brought completely numbed the muscles within the hunter’s arm. Though it may have provided a slight relief to the horrific pain caused by the destroyed shoulder, it still rendered the arm fairly limp and nearly unresponsive by itself.
Blood seemed to pour out of the wounds Daniel had managed to make. Though Daniel could see it, none of the liquid actually got on him or his swords. As for the vicious snap kick sent towards his knee, it hit but mostly the metal of the warrior’s armor. However, the ghost seemed to be breathing heavily. Yet even so it spoke with something akin to pride in its voice.
”Ha! Yes… Good! Truly you are better than any I’ve faced yet, bróðir!” But as the words left the specter’s lips, an iron grasp suddenly settled around Daniel. Rather than try shoving the hunter away, the ghost had wrapped its large arms around the currently close hunter in a vise-like grip. Almost immediately it began to tighten, crushing Daniel much like a snake might do to its prey. The hunter was trapped with his arms inside the grapple. The pain from Daniel’s broken shoulder increased as the pressure from the constriction built, making the other bones in his torso groan in protest. Based on sheer strength alone, it was very possible the giant warrior might squeeze the very life out of Daniel if not stopped.
DM Notes: N/A Tags: Daniel Caim
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Post by Daniel Caim on Sept 26, 2017 21:26:49 GMT
“ The Righteous Side of Hell." Something akin to wolfish grin touched Daniel’s lips when his blades pierce the spectral flesh of his foe, eliciting a pained grunt. His shin might’ve number from the impact against the ghost’s armor, but complication couldn’t rob him of the sense of satisfaction. Instincts honed over a lifetime of conflict and hunting screamed at him that the duel was near its end and he relished the victory he could all but taste. It was then that pain bloomed in his shoulder and his vision swam dangerously as he yelled in anguish. His grasp on Frost-Carver weakened and fell away as his arm went limp.
The wave of cold that spread from the impact point went a long way towards combatting the searing agony washing over him. However, his relief would be short-lived when the ghost drew him into a crushing embrace. Daniel grit his teeth against another scream to focus on fighting the constricting grip even as his vision continued to swim. Adrenalin and a tenaciously stubborn will to live would be the only things keeping him conscious, but even those wouldn’t be sufficient for him to last for very long.
The old wolf would fight like the desperate cornered animal that he was, thrashing and striking with everything he had to little avail. He thought of his daughter waiting patiently for his return and drove himself to ever rising heights of ferocity in his attacks, yet to little effect. His opponent’s raw physical strength was simply too much. This was a battle he couldn’t win through attrition. He would have to gamble everything on his final gambit.
Daniel would drive the last of the breath from his lungs to form a single word. “Raze-Lighter!” he would shout. The runic weapon still embedded in the wraith’s chest would respond to its name and a torrent of intense heat and flame would pour from its edge. One way or another, this would be the last move.
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Post by West on Sept 27, 2017 19:58:08 GMT
No amount of squirming or thrashing appeared to loosen the giant’s grip. The arms locked around Daniel stayed firmly where they were, ever tightening around the hunter with crushing intensity. But just as the pressure was beginning to be too much for his bones to handle, Daniel shouted the command for his weapon.
Immediately a blaze of light and heat burst outwards from the back of the specter. Since Daniel was close he could feel the temperature in the air spike rapidly at the sudden appearance of fire coming out from the ghost’s back. Though not nearly as intensely as the ghost itself. A mighty howl of anguish left the specter’s helm, along with a few licks of flame as the weapon burned him from the inside out. The skin around where the weapon was buried immediately darkened to a pitch black. Finally the arms around Daniel lessened. The crushing pressure threatening to reduce his spine into a bloody pulp went away.
With a heavy thud and the clatter of metal, the ghost fell to the ground in a heap. Daniel was released, though perhaps taken off balance upon landing with the sudden collapse. Just barely the ghost managed to catch itself, reduced to supporting itself on its hands and knees. It was a testament to his strength that he was still "alive." If Daniel had managed to stay on his feet, the damage his weapon had caused was now evident. The non-metal portion of the armor that the warrior wore had been charred and reduced to ash. Not only that, but the skin upon his back had turned a horrible black that oozed from cracks created through the burnt skin. The pieces that hadn't been entirely melted, that is. Fortunately enough for the living hunter it did not carry a scent.
With heavy and painful wheezing, it was evident Daniel wasn’t the only stubborn one. Yet even so the ghost’s image seemed to be degrading. The light blue aura that had surrounded his form now flickers and floated off with little wisps. Altogether his form seemed to be rapidly fading. As though it would soon disappear entirely. Even so- even as damaged as he was- a ragged laugh left the warrior’s helm. ”Ha…You are…indeed…worthy…blóð bróðir” The giant rasped before coughing violently. His form was fading faster now, to the point Daniel could just vaguely start seeing through his form.
Even so the warrior struggled to rest an arm on his knee. The movement tore another pain-filled grunt from unseen lips, but he managed to get an elbow supported against his leg. The helm’s face turned towards Daniel, lifting up with effort. ”I ask…one last…favor.” Weakly, his other arm lifted for but a moment to gesture towards his sword before it swiftly went back to the ground to support his weight. The weapon laid close by, the metal gleaming. ”My sword,” He said, coughing once more. He was fading quicker now, becoming more and more transparent. ”Use…my sword. I began…with it. I…would end…by it…” With that the spectral warrior said no more, his head slumping forward and his form teetering. Yet by pure stubborn will alone he held himself upright even as his soul began whisking off to the beyond- awaiting the final blow Daniel had rightfully earned.
DM Notes: N/A Tags: Daniel Caim
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Post by Daniel Caim on Oct 4, 2017 23:46:34 GMT
“ The Righteous Side of Hell." Daniel turned his face from the immense heat ravaging the ghost’s frame and pouring from his mouth. He could almost feel his spine about to crack when the pressure finally alleviated and his opponent thudded heavily to the ground. The old wolf was forced to follow, but he almost immediately rolled away while doing the best to ignore the anguish of grinding bones. He laid still for a several pregnant seconds as he hauled breath after breath into his lungs. After he’d recovered to some extent, Daniel covered his face with his functioning arm and began to laugh. He’d somehow survived! The sheer exhilaration of it was better than anything he’d felt in recent months.
He finally ceased a few moments later and rose gingerly to his knees, wincing at his shoulder’s protest at the motion. Glimmering eyes fixed upon his fallen foe whom seemed to have life in him just yet. It amazed him that the specter still had the strength to remain crouched on all fours despite the heavy damage dealt to him. For one reason or another, Daniel felt a swell of pride. Not that he’d beaten the ghost (though that certainly played a significant part) but for the fact that his opponent tenaciously clung to life.
The ghost spoke then, wheezing between his words. He wanted to die a warrior’s death beneath the edge of his own blade; Daniel could respect that.
Daniel nodded and rose slowly as to not disturb his broken shoulder as much as possible. He stumbled over to the gleaming length of metal and took it in hand, resting the blade on his shoulder. Then, he moved over to the kneeling ghost with an expression of utmost respect and admiration etched across his features.
“Before I do this, I wanna know one thing,” Daniel said. “What’s your name? I wanna remember it so you aren’t forgotten.” Daniel waited just long enough to hear the ghost’s response if any was forthcoming. Nodding, he would add, “Then, go in peace, blóð bróðir.” Then, he hefted the sword as high as one arm would allow and brought the edge down upon his worthy foe’s neck.
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Post by West on Oct 5, 2017 2:13:19 GMT
As Daniel grasped the hilt of the blade, a chilling sensation spread throughout his hand. However it did not freeze him as the blade did. Though as he rested the sword on his shoulder, frost began to spread out from it. Additionally, it was not quite as heavy as it appeared. In fact it felt rather light, and was just barely see-through.
And as he approached the ghost, a presence seemed to fill the air. It was different from the unnerving sense of isolation and coldness that Daniel had experienced earlier. This time the air seemed thick with a presence. What exactly it was, Daniel couldn’t tell. But it surrounded the pair with a watchful aura. Almost as though others were among them, though no other living creature was present.
As for the ghostly warrior, he raised his head very slightly. Enough so that Daniel could see the gleam coming from light blue eyes within the helm’s opening. A short chuckle left the fading figure, cut off at the end by a cough. Yet he answered still: "Hjörtr.” He replied by bowing his head once more. No more words were said after that. There was no need.
The blade flashed in the air as Daniel hefted it. With its swing came that eerie noise as it swung down towards Hjörtr’s neck. It was as though time slowed for just a moment to watch this scene unfold. The forest held its collective breath as the blade inched ever closer. And for but a second before the bitter cold blade connected with its prideful owner’s neck, you could have sworn a sigh of content left the warrior’s unseen lips.
As the great sword cleaved through the half translucent figure, his entire form erupted. What had once been the visage of a mighty warrior now shattered into a million tiny light blue shards. Almost like a statue made of ice or glass being destroyed. Yet the pieces did not scatter onto the ground. They dispersed outwards from where the blade had struck, creating a large floating sphere of these lightly glowing blue shards. After a moment they began to swirl as a mighty wind abruptly swept through the area. Carried by this gust, the shards rushed towards Daniel and the blade. Daniel would feel nothing but the buffeting wind. But he would notice the sword in his hand suddenly glow brightly with a similar blueish light as the remnants of this warrior spiraled around the weapon. After a brief time, the glow would fade and the remaining pieces would be carried off into the sky only to fade shortly after. The wind quieted down once again, leaving Daniel alone..
Only the blade remained in his hand, the strangely light weight of it registering within his grasp solidly despite the faintly translucent appearance to it. The chill, though still there, did not seem quite as harsh against his grip.
He had been found worthy.
DM Notes: Congratulations! You have completed your Mission successfully and have gained the following reward: Andardráttur Vetrar: An ancient and unusually light great sword whose blade is imbued with the deadly bite of winter itself. Strikes with it will freeze an enemy where they hit, slowing them down, and consecutive blows with it can make an opponent’s limb or body (if you fight long enough and strike enough) numb to the point of being unresponsive. The blade itself exists on two planes: one corporeal and one incorporeal. Meaning that it not only affects physical beings, but Ghosts and Spirits as well.
In addition, a strange but subtle hum seems to surround the blade. A presence seems to have imbued itself within the weapon. For one time only, in any thread, you may call upon the presence within the blade to summon the ghost of Hjörtr, The Warden of Winter, to fight by your side. This may only be used once. When it is, the presence from the weapon will fade, and you can summon him no longer. This is my final post. You may reply if you like, but the Mission is officially finished. Tags: Daniel Caim
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