Roarfang VS. Kyp Torvyn

[lastsanity]

The sun in the sky. A glowing orb, a being that is worshipped by many, a beacon of hope and an enlightener of worlds; the starter of days and the overseer of Earth. But now, on the planes of Ferwynn Tameel, the sun was detested. The sun, revealer of the world, revealed nothing more than a shadow that cascaded across a horrific scene made of steel and blood. The life that welcomed the massive star signaled with shouts and roars, sobs and moans, clangs of blades and cracks of bone, horns blowing and howls roaring, the scar on the healthy planet that is now Ferwynn Tameel cracking beneath the marching feet of thousands of clashing lost souls whose only goal was to live and that mean to kill. The frenzy and blood lust erupting confusion between the Light Guardians and the Dark, friend or foe being lost in the masses, their identifiable colors being lost in rotting flesh and splitting wounds. The sun revealed not Earth… it revealed hell condensed into one small spot. It only hid the true world.

But all was not lost. Even though at this point in the battle between evil and more evil, the darkest of souls even feeling fear and retreating or killing themselves, at least one looked up at the gleaming sparkle up in the red magic filled sky, clouded from smoke derived from spells and explosion, and ogled with thankfulness. The one who appreciated the sun was a mere gnoll, smaller than all who were around him and yet… with a grin and vigor. Exhaustion from battle merely fueling his happiness and pain from his wounds fueled his anger to press on. His furry body was mostly red, along with odd colors from beings with alternate colors of inner fluids. This was not a member of the Light Guardians… but not even the Dark Guardians. This creature, a hyena with the body of a human, was there on a team of one. Team Roarfang. Everyone around him was his target of bashing, thrashing, theft, and roars. In his fuzzy brown right hand held his coveted weapon specifically meant for ending a foe in a single blunt hit over the head, splitting open the skull and cutting a blood vessel in the brain and dropping the foe effortlessly and still so he can gain prize from the corpse to strengthen himself with every kill. And then to rip out a tooth and add it to the tied indefinite collection of others festooned on his Roarmace. In his left hand was a second weapon, longer and sharper, meant for inflicting pain for Roarfang’s bent ears to enjoy.

Although he would have been perfectly happy with simply enduring this battle, he had a purpose above all others to be in this very spot this morning. It was to not just kill everyone, but make sure one of the men here… died from his own hands. The name burned his mind with revenge and disgust. His opponent was the polar opposite of him. The other side of the spectrum. Kyp Torvin. Cunning, friendly, smart, innocent, morally sound, modest. Only one can exist in this world, he knew it. So before the rest of the world dies from his fangs and blades, Kyp Torvin shall be first on the execution list. Throughout the entire war he had been using his gifted roars, hence his prefix “Roar” to his tribal name, to call out for the bane of his existence while he gouged out the eyes of a light guardian with his blade and crushed a dark guardian’s windpipe with his spiked mace on the other side, blood raining down on him like scarlet rain.

“Kyp Torvin! Come out so Chief Roarfang can DESTROY you!”

Attachments:

[Eric Easy E Pelka]

War never changes; pain; death; loss. War will always be a pestilence over the hearts of men; a blemish upon the face of man’s great virtue. And yet, knowing full well its evil, man has not been able avert his heart from its allure. Man has been unable to be satiated by the tender calm of peace. No, there will always be desire to thwart man’s attempts at taming its own nature. Desire will always be a foil to man.

Kyp Torvyn had stood on many such battlefields, witnessing the darkest of man’s sins piling body upon body across vast wastelands. He hated every moment of the carnage. In the faces of both sides he saw fathers, sons, mothers, and daughters; people, not just pawns waging war across an empty battlefield. Even the land was alive. Sprawled across them were farms, homes, somber escapes for innocent denizens of Ferwynn Tameel, merely trying to make a living; all buried beneath mounds of bodies – graves not yet covered by earth. The ignorant greed that had led to Caleeguno’s war against man kindled a great rage within Kyp. A rage that motivated him to put his life on the line for the future of a land that loathed him; a land that blamed Kyp and his Light Guardians for instigating a war with an enemy that had remained dormant for centuries.

Still he trudged on, knowing his purpose was just and moral. It was his duty to vanquish the evil that had slowly been wrapping its firm and choking grip around the dormant land of Ferwynn Tameel. As he stood hunched over atop a small hill under a burning tree, Kyp allowed a single stream of tears to dampen his eyes. The cursed scar on his right arm burned with immense pain, bellowed by the death and anguish screaming loudly across the smoke filled air. The pain was no hindrance to the veteran rogue though. He had warred across battlefields far worse than this, and knew more were in his future.

Kyp Torvyn readied his cross bow, ensuring his tipped bolts were properly loaded; there was nothing worse than a jam in the middle of battle. Using his free hand he made sure his ten clips of eight bolts each were fastened tightly to his side, within an efficient distance from his firing position. Reloading was the key to proper Crossbow technique. He then removed his cloak knowing full well the long flowing cape was far too cumbersome. Besides he had burnt his white leather armor in a smoldering fire soon after he acquired it. The minute loss of stealth wasn’t enough to risk mobility.

Rising from the plethora of blood-curdling shrieks and yells a single roar echoed over the vast battlefield, “Kyp Torvyn! Come out so Chief Roarfang can DESTROY you!”

The voice was familiar. Though to many the voice may have sent chills down their spines, Kyp only felt sadness. Roarfang was a companion from long ago. He was a little misguided, often overly zealous with his desire for power, even at odds with Kyp’s very morality at times; however, Kyp was not one to give up on a person. Deep within the towering Gnoll Kyp believed their existed potential; potential that would eventually manifest itself in some courageous and beautiful act of heroism. Yet now, here he was challenging the Light Guardian leader to combat – a challenge that Kyp could not ignore.

“May the God’s preserve this fool from my wrath. I will not hold back from doing what must be done.” Kyp spoke a little prayer to himself before leaping back into the fray making his way tediously toward the bellowing roar still rumbling across the blood-stained field. It wasn’t long before Kyp could see, three or four rows of men ahead, an angry Gnoll barreling through soldiers with no prejudice over ideology. “Well, here we go? My old friend, I am sorry for what I am about to do.” Kyp said to himself as he readied himself for any attack, it wouldn’t be long before one or both of them joined the many bodies strewn across the dead field.

[todd2point0]

Roarfang
Post 1:

Grammar: and that meant to kill,

4.5

Style: Over all really great, used a lot of complex sentences that allow your post to be easily read, Used the word “but”when another fanboy would have made the sentence read easier.

8

Originality/ Skill: Really descriptive as far as the environment, and the scene in which you are fighting. That being said a lot was lacking in your actually character. Only a small description of him, and his actions was given. A little more could have been down with what your character was thinking, as well as more personal background as to why he is there to
Kill Kyp.

11

23.5/30

Kyp Torvyn
Post 1:

Grammer: I can’t find anything grammatically incorrect.

5

Style: Extremely interesting to read. Good sentence structure, and very descriptive of your characters inner morality gage, and belief structure.

8

Originality/Skill: You created an inconstancy between yours and Roarfangs post. In Roarfang’s post he described himself as smaller then everyone else around him; however, in yours you used the word ‘towering’ to describe him. Make a note to take his actually size into consideration in future posts.

Other than that it was a really solid post. You did a very good job of including a lot of elements into one post.

11

24/30

Round one ends with Kyp taking the lead by one!

Eric Easy E. Pelka: 1
Lastsanity: 0

[lastsanity]

“Oh god, please don’t do this! Please! I don’t want to die!” a meager human pleaded with her cracking voice, weak from hollering in fright at the terrors around her. But now she lay on the muddy floor, the earth churned from the feet of the fleeing and the chasing, the duelers and the hiding. Her attire was a mere thin cloth, a cheap battle armor that was thrown over her atop what could plainly be seen behind it as kitchen clothing. Her pale sheltered skin was dotted with mud and dirt from being thrown around and groveling. But it was easy to see that she was an attractive female… but that held no sway on the horrific being that hovered over her at this very moment that smiled insufferably above her. “P-Please… I have a family! And four children—”

Her head rolled down her now still body and bashed into a pair of hairy feet as the lifeless eyes met with their killer’s dark orbs that ogled down at the severed treasure with a sick lust for her death. As an empty hand lowered to pick it up by her greasy hair and put at the level of his own face as he licked off the trickling scarlet along his dirtied and stained blade with his lolling tongue. “Roarfang thank you. Roarfang kill all four of children after this.” He then bent down to leisurely pick through her pockets to see if even this useless valetudinarian had objects of complexity or redoubtable value. The surrounding vicinity of Roarfang’s was entirely empty, like a circle of protection was casted around the hyena monster as battling carried on naturally about the being from a small distance; if you could call fear and dread as a circle of protection that is. As the slayer of all had trouble finding anything of peculiarity to slake his taste for riches and jewels while swaying the head of the young impecunious lady playfully in the other hand, he froze abruptly.

“Well, here we go? My old friend, I am sorry for what I am about to do.”

It was that voice that he longed for since he made his entrance onto this undeserving battlefield. Instantly a volley of traumatic incidents involving that voice penetrated his corrupted mind of all the times the bearer of that particular voice interrupted his plans. Roarfang, greatest of all races including gnolls, had wanted to supply the world with a dose of terror by killing and robbing all who opposed him and any building that did not have a statue erected in every one of its rooms, all the while seducing the misguided with his ever growing influence and power and using terror tactics to frighten the mortals that typically feared what they did not know into pledging their lives to both worshipping the power hungry Roarfang and also vowing to make the world a darker and more hate filled place. It was survival of the fittest in his eyes, and although it was mostly to appease his addiction for pain causing and inanimate objects, it was also to make the world a better place to produce stronger and more powerful races and people.

The world shines brightest in the darkness, and the weak would have to become strong and the strong would have to become stronger and they shall all know the chief’s name and all know that he was not only the sovereign of a tribe of gnolls, but the king of the world and the planter of nightmares and sorrow in all, so they shall all come to him and fight him one time or another… and he can have the thrill and joy of contesting his strength against their own and make a game out of humiliating their life long journey of avenging their world or loved ones by slowly and surely turning their fates into a game for Roarfang’s amusement. A game where he knows he shall always win but the ecstasy of it being the way he wins and how his opponent begs to live or even die quickly.

But that voice… Roarfang turned his hideously grimaced face towards the dark elf that so confidently entered his regal presence and even apologized for what he believed he was going to do to him. And that is what enraged the gnoll the most… Roarfang had entered an adventure with this Kyp Torvyn long ago with many others… all of them heroic and good hearted. Roarfang wanted power and that was the only profitable thing his acute nose smelled coming from this league of freaks, so he followed. He showed his dominance in a multitude of times… and did not change his ways. But so many times had this pure and vainglory drow stopped his attempts to ensure his goals and pleasantries. And never once had he the immeasurable enjoyment of playing the game he wished to play with the world with this very challenger… until now.

Roarfang had no chagrin as he stood up straight and turned to the opposing force as he spun the morbid head of the girl like a windmill in his left hand as he pointed the sick looking Clawblade in his right towards the target’s soft and inviting throat. “Roarfang has waited long for this…” He cackled with his coarse voice while his tongue flicked up the yellow slobber that jutted from betwixt his deformed but sharp teeth. “Now Roarfang kill Torvyn!” He let go of the cycling head, letting it lose towards Kyp Torvyn’s face like a projectile as the attacker would then replace that with his Roarclub in that very hand while charging with his two weapons, the club raised high to crash down on the probably disgusted Kyp while the blade is level and ready to parry any attack that the elf would possibly respond with, or if not he would simply plunge it through his ribcage and up into his beating and delicious heart all the while charging full speed ahead to tackle and may knock over the opponent, having unleashed a four pronged attack against the foe who, for the sake of Roarfang’s game, should have an answer to.