Thread: They Who Thirst (Dr. Nibbles & SomethingEsoteric)

The mighty crashing of hammer, ax and shield wracked both bodies of the combatants. Though Iridith sensed the pain felt by Hilde, her grin growing wider, a cackle of satisfaction escaping her lips. The second blow was blocked expertly by Hilde's mighty steel shield, pain wracking her wrist, one of the few pains Iridith did not care for, forcing her to lose one of her ancient axes. Quickly reacting as Hilde pressed her breast against Iridith's own, the Chieftain gripped her shield and locked the the maul and ax together, the two rivals now standing face to face, Hilde pushing with all her might and Iridith holding forcibly her ground. You're weaker than you realize priestess. Iridith spoke through grunts of struggle You will make an excellent whore-wife yet. Iridith mockingly licked forward, her unnaturally long tongue running up Hilde's own lips and nose before quickly retracting. Her outstandingly arrogant demeanor was suddenly flush with visibly worry as the trumpants of war blared close by, soon coupled by the sloshing of hoof on mud. Whomever approached was coming rapidly, and it could not be their own. Iridith rammed her knee into the less armored side of Hilde's armor, staning a full head taller than her she easily reached the unprotected part of her armpit. Though not a desirable location to deal significant damage, the hit would be enough to off put her opponent and grant her an opportunity to withdraw. Iridith quickly ran off, grabbing her ax and shouting in norse at the top of her lungs Withdraw, they're knights are near. Repeating this order repeatedly granted the attention of a Taggoth'Ur drummer, whom quickly began pounding a cryptic military tune that signaled a fall back to all. Two more drums within the fight began to beat in unison alerting the norse horde, forcing them to stop their slaughter of militia men and raping of militia women. The small warband began to quickly retreat, their numbers not much smaller than when they began the fight, a contrary to the blood soaked and cum filled corpses of the Stirland militia. I'aqshy approached her chieftain throughout the madness, running as best as her weak, mutated lungs will allow. My mistress if they are on horseback we will never out run them. Indeed, Iridith replied entering the camp and grabbing her knapsack Unleash our brothers give them something to fight. Cheiftain if we do that we'll be severely outmatch at Fort Shaemoor... allow me to distract them. Iridith wished to stop her but instead would allow her this opportunity to prove her worth. Standing at the crest of the hill, I'aqshy extended her arms and began to chant cryptic and eldritch words. The storm above began to twirl, the rain stopping momentarily as it was cast aside by the winds of magic. With her chaotic psalm, bolts of bright purple lightening struck down around the field, hitting some soldiers and killing them in a blaze of magical fire. Her body began to tremble as the storm clouds lurched down, revealing the stars of the night sky. As the cloud descended a face of horrific nature emerged from its mass, roaring with the sound of thunder as it engulfed dozens of soldiers in a horrifiying display. The cloud began to twist and turn among the field swallowing men and women whole in its daemonic maw. The spell having released, I'aqshy collapsed, being caught by Iridith, whom hoisted her on her back and looked down at the field to see the priestess masterfully dodging the cloud-beast. She smiled, knowing she would see her again, and left with the remains of her warband.