02-27-2012, 09:50 PM
A vast field, corn grows.
Two sunken eyes with armor made from bones adorn the human.
Purple and black robes lie underneath this armor.
Squirrels lie dead around him. Their small, furry corpses are shriveled husks, shells of their former selves.
A dead stag lies at his feet. Owls of an undead and diseased nature fly around him, as if he were some sort of twisted druid.
A bushy beard falls from his chin, grayish-white in color. A mustache goes well with it.
Gorzan's eyes shot open at these thoughts, and he realized that Reigen and the nameless gnome were staring at him. He must have been quite the spectacle, but that didn't matter now. "I, uh... I gotta go. Necromancer's wearing squirrel armor. Gotta stop him."
Reigen only blinked in return. "Go save those squirrels!" she was eventually able to blurt out. Then, with unearthly speed akin to that of maybe a rogue, or a predatory cat, Gorzan was off, sprinting out the gates of Hearthglen, a sight to behold. He was moving rather fast for his size; Gorzan wasn't small, not by anyone's standards. He was, in fact, a bit larger and muscular for an orc, much unlike his father. However, he was also an agile green-skin, moving with speed granted by his ancestors. He wore white armor, a tabard of the Argent Crusade falling down his chest and back, the black and gold star displayed proudly on his midsection. Gorzan was surprised to find his path relatively clear of Scourge, as the Argents were apparently good at their job. Gorzan Citysacker, Spirit Champion and Argent Crusader liked to think he was a part of that conclusion. Every mile or so he'd catch glimpses of diseased wildlife and a few skeletons here or there, and even more rarely was the occasional corpse. He even saw a distant, broken down caravan. He wanted to investigate it, but his vision from the spirits was clear; he needed to stop this reoccurring villain, as he was doing more damage to the Argents than anyone else would care to acknowledge by hitting them in their good food sources.
Gorzan kept his running up, after a couple miles needing to slow down, and finally lowered it to a job after about five miles. He was in peak physical condition, coupled with nigh-unbreakable concentration and increased agility from the ancestors, but even with his blessings and conditioning, he needed to slow down if he was to have even an ounce of strength left to actually do combat. So, after a full seven mile run, Gorzan came to a stop. He took a skin from his belt, filled with water, and brought it to his lips. Over the course of a minute, he drained about half the skin, doing his best to conserve it. He decided to walk the rest of his journey, to regain his strength. So, for about an hour, Gorzan walked. He continued on, through a small grove of trees, until he found his target. There, standing in a massive field of rotted and destroyed corn, was a Necromancer, wearing bone armor, made from the insides of squirrels. Squirrels littered the area, now all floppy and gross, as they were boneless. Gorzan reached to his sides for his axes, found the hilts, and drew them from their small slings, holding them at his sides. He was about a hundred yards away from the Necromancer still, so he sat down, as he had yet to be seen. He meditated for a few moments, and his axes soon glowed yellowish white with the power of pure good. Content, he stood up, held his axes out, and charged, his voice eerily silent for a Warsong orc.
The Necromancer turned at the wrong time for poor Gorzan. Still twenty yards away, he aimed his staff at the charging orc and fired a ball of screaming shadow at his green adversary. Gorzan retaliated by barreling to his right, and sending a ball of light similar to the glow that encompassed his axes towards the Necromancer, which he decided to name Luguolo. The energy shot towards Luguolo with lightning speed, but even that wasn't fast enough. It merely bounced off a ward put up by the Necromancer, but that gave Gorzan the time he needed to close the gap. He raised his right axe to feint a swing down at his head, while his left axe swiped upwards towards Luguolo's chest. The Necromancer had some surprising strength in his parry as his staff spun to his right to swipe the upper axe aside, then coming full circle to deflect the true strike. Gorzan leaped back, still silent, and sent another ball of pure good energy straight for the Necromancer's heart. After that failed, the orc dove straight back in, this time aiming both axes at his neck.
Two sunken eyes with armor made from bones adorn the human.
Purple and black robes lie underneath this armor.
Squirrels lie dead around him. Their small, furry corpses are shriveled husks, shells of their former selves.
A dead stag lies at his feet. Owls of an undead and diseased nature fly around him, as if he were some sort of twisted druid.
A bushy beard falls from his chin, grayish-white in color. A mustache goes well with it.
Gorzan's eyes shot open at these thoughts, and he realized that Reigen and the nameless gnome were staring at him. He must have been quite the spectacle, but that didn't matter now. "I, uh... I gotta go. Necromancer's wearing squirrel armor. Gotta stop him."
Reigen only blinked in return. "Go save those squirrels!" she was eventually able to blurt out. Then, with unearthly speed akin to that of maybe a rogue, or a predatory cat, Gorzan was off, sprinting out the gates of Hearthglen, a sight to behold. He was moving rather fast for his size; Gorzan wasn't small, not by anyone's standards. He was, in fact, a bit larger and muscular for an orc, much unlike his father. However, he was also an agile green-skin, moving with speed granted by his ancestors. He wore white armor, a tabard of the Argent Crusade falling down his chest and back, the black and gold star displayed proudly on his midsection. Gorzan was surprised to find his path relatively clear of Scourge, as the Argents were apparently good at their job. Gorzan Citysacker, Spirit Champion and Argent Crusader liked to think he was a part of that conclusion. Every mile or so he'd catch glimpses of diseased wildlife and a few skeletons here or there, and even more rarely was the occasional corpse. He even saw a distant, broken down caravan. He wanted to investigate it, but his vision from the spirits was clear; he needed to stop this reoccurring villain, as he was doing more damage to the Argents than anyone else would care to acknowledge by hitting them in their good food sources.
Gorzan kept his running up, after a couple miles needing to slow down, and finally lowered it to a job after about five miles. He was in peak physical condition, coupled with nigh-unbreakable concentration and increased agility from the ancestors, but even with his blessings and conditioning, he needed to slow down if he was to have even an ounce of strength left to actually do combat. So, after a full seven mile run, Gorzan came to a stop. He took a skin from his belt, filled with water, and brought it to his lips. Over the course of a minute, he drained about half the skin, doing his best to conserve it. He decided to walk the rest of his journey, to regain his strength. So, for about an hour, Gorzan walked. He continued on, through a small grove of trees, until he found his target. There, standing in a massive field of rotted and destroyed corn, was a Necromancer, wearing bone armor, made from the insides of squirrels. Squirrels littered the area, now all floppy and gross, as they were boneless. Gorzan reached to his sides for his axes, found the hilts, and drew them from their small slings, holding them at his sides. He was about a hundred yards away from the Necromancer still, so he sat down, as he had yet to be seen. He meditated for a few moments, and his axes soon glowed yellowish white with the power of pure good. Content, he stood up, held his axes out, and charged, his voice eerily silent for a Warsong orc.
The Necromancer turned at the wrong time for poor Gorzan. Still twenty yards away, he aimed his staff at the charging orc and fired a ball of screaming shadow at his green adversary. Gorzan retaliated by barreling to his right, and sending a ball of light similar to the glow that encompassed his axes towards the Necromancer, which he decided to name Luguolo. The energy shot towards Luguolo with lightning speed, but even that wasn't fast enough. It merely bounced off a ward put up by the Necromancer, but that gave Gorzan the time he needed to close the gap. He raised his right axe to feint a swing down at his head, while his left axe swiped upwards towards Luguolo's chest. The Necromancer had some surprising strength in his parry as his staff spun to his right to swipe the upper axe aside, then coming full circle to deflect the true strike. Gorzan leaped back, still silent, and sent another ball of pure good energy straight for the Necromancer's heart. After that failed, the orc dove straight back in, this time aiming both axes at his neck.