Post by John Harding on Oct 2, 2011 11:38:55 GMT -5
Jonah shook his head at the craziness that was the zombie invasion suicide run. This was madness...(although he couldn't help but feel a little glad for the adventure). Following the fearsome orc brute - who may or may not have been somewhat eccentric - Jonah charged a short way behind, making sure not to get within reach of Kerag's mighty axe. With his own weapon - his darkwood sword named Percy - the adrenaline-fueled tribesman slammed back any undead that came too close. Blood and gore spattered Jonah's clothes and skin with each blunt hack and slash as he neared the mausoleum.
Orp Boon [M:83:616:][D3v:http://www.rpgmenagerie.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=cs&thread=406&page=1#374]"Is that family heirloom for sale?"[0:Gone fishing.][1:The store is open!]
Kerag lost himself in the frenzy and chaos of battle, drunk off the satisfaction of ripping his foes apart, so free to let his innate talents go to work at their fullest capacity. Jonah was holding his own well, and Kiga unsurprisingly contributed to their benefit. For a moment he looked to the gate and saw Margrett, his lips curling upwards, spreading from one ear to the other. He started to laugh, blood splattered and covering his armor and face.
"The Captain arrives! Margrett!"
The orc managed to call between heavy, strained breaths.
"Come join the fun!"
Eccentric as he was, the brute continued to cut his own path through the horde, knocking more zombies away as they tried circling the group inside the Graveyard. He growled and howled at the undead, sinking his axe into their lifeless corpses again and again, even as they tried carrying away the re-slain back into the mausoleum. They were getting closer, but it was almost unnerving, knowing they wished to enter the dark tomb where so many of them now shuffled out of, moaning and reeking of rot and decay.
Kiga had dropped another zombie but knew well they needed to clear the path to the Masoleum. He dropped, turned in the dirt and then shot toward the Orc in a low sprint. His knives slipped away and as he reached Kerag, he stepped onto his knee, off his shoulder - and took to the air. He didn't weight a whole lot, the Orc didn't so much as lean.
Kiga's predatory scream left him like a diving raptor and he folded over in the air, feet lazily winding overhead in an arcing tumble... and he then dropped into the ground hands first like a rock. As he slammed a hand into the dirt, a sudden, forceful wall of wind broke away from him, toppling the immediate dead and clearing a 12 foot circumference.
NOW!
Kiga rocked back into a low stance, hands again whipping throwing knives with deadly accuracy on the advancing masses of undead.
Kerag felt the light footed ninja use him for the extra lift, his battle-crazed eye darting up and down, watching Kiga's expertise and then back to the zombies, absolutely ecstatic with his performance. He wanted to clap, but his hands were full, he settled for beating a gauntlet against his armored chest, grinning wildly.
"Kiga! Excellent work! Gold well spent indeed!"
The orc charged forward, passing the toppled zombies around them, pressing further into the fray, his axe always swinging around him in fluid arcs, spraying blood and scattering limbs. He motioned with his hand, gesturing for the group to press their advance.
"It's now or never!"
Kerag screamed, throwing his shoulder into a group of shambling corpses not far from the mausoleum. He didn't even bother killing them so much now as he did throw them from his path. What was the point if they just put themselves back together inside the mausoleum? He grabbed a zombie by the throat, forcing his jaw shut as his other hand lifted him by an old leather belt around its waist, lifting it high above him. Kerag let out a guttural shout, tossing the zombie forward, and knocking some down in front of him.
Margrett smirked and walked towards where Kerag was, beckoning for the doctor to follow. Most of them were following the other two as they cleared a path, so Margrett encountered little resistance as she joined them.
Excellent work, gentlemen.
Orp Boon [M:83:616:][D3v:http://www.rpgmenagerie.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=cs&thread=406&page=1#374]"Is that family heirloom for sale?"[0:Gone fishing.][1:The store is open!]
Kerag gave the Captain a thumbs up, quickly returning to their gruesome work. As they closed the distance, Kerag began to strain himself fighting the horde, feeling hands in every direction pulling at him, attacking him mindlessly, intending to eat him if he wasn't careful. He crashed into more of them, and growled when the horde pulled his helmet off, his glowing eye dimming to green as he stumbled forward, pushing more out of his way, cursing them with colorful common slang and some orcish thrown in for good measure. That's when it happened.
Kerag screamed. A particularly feisty zombie flanked his left, managing to avoid Kerag's axe and momentarily grab the orc's armor, getting close enough to take a bite out of his lupine left ear. Kerag roared, throwing a heavy fist into the corpse's jaw, knocking it off and the piece of his ear with it. He reached up, feeling blood trickle down his neck as he spit at the creature, unable to control his frantic breathing, outraged. Kerag's left ear was mostly intact, but the side had a clear chunk taken out of it.
"GAHH bloody zombie. I'll destroy ALL of you!"
He found his helmet and put it back on, his glowing eye reflecting his inner fury as he charged forward, cleaving bodies this way and that, slowly but surely reaching the entrance, his companions following and aiding him in the endeavor.
Last Edit: Oct 2, 2011 18:54:56 GMT -5 by Sir Kerag
Margrett's armor fended off a lot of the scrapes and bites she would otherwise have gotten, but the zombies were strong enough to leave bruises. Her hammer easily crushed the skulls and broke the bones of most of the ones in her way. She barely slowed as they came at her, spinning her hammer, knocking some away and smashing others into the dirt.
One of them knocked off her hat, though. She panicked and scrambled for it, and one of them grabbed her neck as she leaned forward to get it. She easily pried off its fingers, but dropped her hammer in the process. Although she had no hand to hand combat training, and probably didn't need it with these mindless husks, she momentarily regretted blowing Grayell off.
Kiga rolled, broke from the ground and wound sideways with a flip, landing opposite Marg with the hammer between them. He knifed another zombie in the face, spun, then rotated on his heel and brought his leg down onto the shoulder of another with significant force. Another loosed knife, another target dead.
He looked to the Captain and then down to her hammer...
He snapped both hands out to either side and whirl of wind from each palm tore his immediate oppositiong through the chest and throat. He lunged, rolled and came up with the hammer in his hand. A blade met his back which immediately made his eye wide. a gasp of pain from his mouth. His rear leg snapped out, kicked the weapon loose and then snapped again, shoving his attacker to one side. He shifted back, his mobility was compromised with the heavy hammer - which he offered to Marg.
Kerag reached the entrance, looking over his shoulder at his companions, gulping, and then bellowing an outrageous growl as he charged forth into the confines of the mausoleum, swinging his axe around his body in fluid, rapid, and terrifying arcs, heavy swooshes followed by wet splatters and the cutting of bone. The brutal warrior gave no quarter, and cut a path of carnage as he fought the walking dead, absolutely pissed and ecstatic at the same time. Scars served as memories, trophies even of battle, and this battle was glorious.
Chaz didn't have the time to test it. He slapped it together and miraculously it held together long enough for him to sling it into a leather holster and make it to the graveyard without being chased by zombies. As he made it though, he saw Kerag and the others and waved.
Guys! I'm here! I just had to-- Then he realized he was attracting the zombies to him. He took in a deep breath and took out a knife, cutting his shirt from the neck down. He opened the panel in his chest and pulled the device from his back. It looked like a metal box, really the remains of a clock, with a chain wrapped around a pulley jutting from it. Welded to the chain were pieces of jagged metal. Going from the box was a long cord, which he put into a newly-made port in the panel on his chest. Hopefully the spring would hold...
He turned a crank on the device and it blared to life, spinning the chain over the pulley, the teeth blurring. He grinned and pulled down his goggles.
Groovy.
He charged into the graveyard. Normally his cowardice would have stopped him from doing any of this, but now...now he was using something he built. That empowered him. Normally he was frail, runtling little Charles...but now, with the power of science, he could make something happen.
A good scientist is a person with original ideas. A good engineer is a person who makes a design that works with as few original ideas as possible.