|
Post by Narrator on Mar 24, 2008 12:44:22 GMT -6
The armory is deserted of the usual elite. Though many of the weapon racks are thinner of stock from the Regent's mass assignment, the assortment of choices is still vast to choose from. A distinct -clop clop clop- on the stone floor is made by the Armory officer who walks toward the Elite and he salutes. The burly nightmare looks very sharp and crisp in his salute movements. "Sirs, Sergeant Hallem at your service... How may I assist you honored Elite today?" he says with a snort.
|
|
|
Post by Thane on Mar 25, 2008 16:16:41 GMT -6
Thane looks to the Sergeant with a semi smile. "Stand at ease Sergeant, The Chancellor has ordered us here to collect arms and armor designed for aerial combat. Light, swift and lethal in their ranged precision."
He then leans in to speak softer to the Sergeant for only he and Lysandor to hear. "Lord Regent has given special request and we will require entry into the -vault- as well." Then says with a raised brow.
|
|
|
Post by Narrator on Mar 28, 2008 11:37:22 GMT -6
The Sergeant nods his understanding. "Lord Regent mentioned two elite would require entry... please gather the required armor and weapons you desire to suit your needs, when we conclude the weapons checkout, I'll be standing by near the vault... Corporal Vagh will assist you gathering your items and will bring them up to the registry for your inspection and sign out." He salutes again and promptly steps back and whirls around in sharp form as before. The nightmare sergeant clops away to the back of the armory and the corporal advances with several privates with wheeled carts to help the elite gather the items requested. They salute the elite and stand at attention ready for orders.
|
|
|
Post by Lysandor on Mar 29, 2008 9:52:26 GMT -6
Lysandor looks over the weapons in the armory until his eyes fall on a series of bows. He picks up one, inspecting it, before setting it down to pick up another. He repeats this process a few times before finding one he deems worthy. It hits him just below the sternum, and is made of well-worked bone and sinew. He draws back the string, testing the draw and strength of the bow, then nods to himself, grabbing two quivers full of black-feathered arrows.
The Fallen Elite goes back to looking through the vast assembly of weapons for a few more light, ranged items. He finds a belt of a dozen or so palm-sized throwing knives, and unsheathes one to test both the balance and the edge. Satisfied, Lysandor adds it to his stock.
"If aerial combat is all we are to see," Lysandor mutters to Thane as he grabs a short spear and dagger, "then I am a fool."
|
|
|
Post by Thane on Mar 29, 2008 15:40:06 GMT -6
Thane has his red eyes glued on a set of red hunting javelins off by the spears and lances. He plucks one from the scabbard of 6 and the twirls it around with great speed to test its overall balance. He cocks his great arm and the javelin zips like a red lightning bolt from Thane's paw. It whistles as it spirals from the force of the throw and embeds itself deeply into the second ring of the 3 ring target by the front door. He snorts his approval and looks to the private standing next to him. The demon says nothing as he trots to retrieve the javelin while Thane puts the remaining lot in his cart and continues his rummaging.
He chances over a very nice looking collection of slings and then he browses over a sweet looking bunch of throwing stars. He'd use them however the sheer size of his paws make them difficult for him to use. Besides he has his precious throwing daggers already.
He looks up to Lysandor and looks confused over his comment. "A fool? Only a fool would not prepare for multiple forms of combat. Just as the ash, battle can settle on any terrain and only the well prepared shall emerge victorious and not to fall prey from the ever changing battlefield." He says with his red eyes peering from under his boney brow horns.
His eyes return to the racks and studies a bunch of bolos, darts, glaves, boomerangs... and ultimately he ends up at the bows and crossbows where Lysandor was just at before. He samples the bows and after rejecting the lighter weight units he wanders over to the long bows. He ultimately chooses a heavy black bow with a deep sweeping recurve and a heavy gauge coiled metal string. He completes his bow selection with very long and thick nasty barbed trident headed arrows. He holds one of the arrows up to show Lysandor its wicked fork and grins an evil grin before placing the arrow back making the total of 20 in the quiver and places it into his cart. On to armor...
|
|
|
Post by Lysandor on Apr 4, 2008 10:29:11 GMT -6
Lysandor's faint smile takes on a more wicked light when he sees the barbed arrowhead. He smirks a little at Thane's words as he grabs another short spear.
"Neither of us are fools to lose a victory for want of a perfect battlefield," the Fallen replies as they move on to the armor.
He looks over the various types and pieces, considering. He finally chooses a pair of pauldrons, and a few pieces to cover his shins and thighs.
|
|
|
Post by Thane on Apr 4, 2008 10:55:35 GMT -6
Thane smirks to Lysandor. "That would be a bloody shame for Elite to be so disadvantaged. I have yet to sample the perfect battlefield... few have come close... however, it matters not, I'll take what I can get to get the job done..." his voice trails off as he sees the shield he used to battle Regent on their first meeting. He snorts as he wanders the shields and find a lighter shield that can be used while firing a bow. He sets it into the cart. He then looks to the helms and slowly considers the pros and cons of head gear. His ears flatten as he looks perturbed by the slack choices.
He moves on to the leg armor and he sighs heavily. "I must speak to the blacksmith to make more armor better suited to anamorphic physique." He says with a sour look as he is holding up a boot made for humanoid feet. He finds loose pieces of armor that strap on but he ultimately rejects them due to loose fit or improper protection. "Useless junk..." He grumbles and he looks to the Corporal, "Take these items to the inventory clerk to tally them and write them up. I'll be there soon to sign for it all."
He folds his great arms and waits for Lysandor to finish and he looks to him with a half smile, "Shall we?" He says nodding toward the vault.
|
|
|
Post by Lysandor on Apr 9, 2008 10:24:20 GMT -6
Lysandor's brow quirks slightly as Thane mutters about the armor, and he looks over the armor once more, this time noting the poor selection for the more animalistic beings in Hell. The Fallen Elite frowns faintly at this.
"That seems to be a rather large oversight," he says. "Given the physiology of most of the beings in Hell, one would think that would be the other way around."
Lysandor makes his way to the vault and glances around. He immediately discards things like singing clubs and floral-fragrented flails and moves on to more effective items. He looks around at the selections, reading the brief notations on each weapon that inform him what the weapon does and the possible drawbacks. While not as vast as the regular weapons, the vault does have quite a few weapons of mass - and minor - destruction.
|
|
|
Post by Thane on Apr 12, 2008 11:47:13 GMT -6
Thane enters behind Lysandor and the feel of the room is very different that the rest of the armory. The magical aura of the place pulses through his body and he can since the more powerful weapons in the room. He wastes no time as he charges straight toward the pole arms in the rear of the vault. He takes the massive nine ringed Kuan dao from its rest and holds it outward from his body. A tingle shoots down his arms as his clawed fingers light ablaze. The fire spreads down the shaft to the thick blade and it flares to life with a serge of heat and light. The fire of the blade is brilliant red in its light maching Thane's eyes just like when the hound is enraged from the flames of life blazing with in him. He spins it through the air as it is nearly weightless in his paws. "This will do..." He says softly as he taps the butt spike on the floor making the rings clap like thunder and the flames douse instantly.
|
|
|
Post by Lysandor on Apr 12, 2008 18:48:08 GMT -6
Lysandor watches Thane's demonstration with the Kuan Dao, impressed by both the Rachet's skill and the weapon's attribute. He briefly considers making a comment about flaming weapons in Hell, but decides against it. After all, flames aren't always holy. In fact, these days, that was rarely the case.
He continues looking over the innumerable weaponry until he comes across a three-sectioned staff. He picks it up and starts going through some simple exercises to test both weight and feel. The black wood begins to glow with a dark blue/black light as the ends whistle a one-note song of death. The Fallen Elite turns his attention to one of the superfluous support beams in the vault. The third end of the three-section staff pass through the toughened wood with ease, making a two-foot chunk disappear as though it had never been. Lysandor stops with a flourish, looking satisfied with the damage. The three-sectioned staff stops glowing slowly, like a red-hot poker once its been removed from heat.
"Flaming swords were never to my taste," he says with a faint, slightly teasing smirk to the big hound.
|
|
|
Post by Thane on Apr 13, 2008 0:12:29 GMT -6
Thanes ears flatten and his eyes narrow at the sound of the whistling staff in Lysandor's hands. The sound is like unto a powerful screeching in his velvety ears. He snorts as Lysandor vaporises the post support with no effort what so ever.
He nods to the fallen as he marches past him to the exit. "You are full of surprises Master Lysandor. Few can even boast the talent to wield such a weapon, fewer can prove their skills with it in battle... but with the kind of skill you have demonstrated just now... I have not seen its equal." He marches past the vault door, past the sergeant and on to the clerk like a hound on a mission.
|
|
|
Post by Lysandor on Apr 15, 2008 12:25:34 GMT -6
"You must not have seen a true master of the weapon if you have not seen equal to my skill," Lysandor replies as he takes Thane's lead toward the clerk. "It only takes time and a great deal of patience to become profficient with such a weapon." Then Lysandor adds, under his breath, "And a great deal of pain tolerance."
|
|
|
Post by Thane on Apr 15, 2008 16:56:16 GMT -6
Thane laughs at Lysandor's words. "I can tell skill mastery when I see it. Though I have no doubt that high tolerance for pain is something many do not share, nor wish to explore while learning such a demanding weapon." He shoves the cart out of his way to stand before the counter and takes the letter of mark to sign the items out.
He sneers as he reads the list and looks back to the cart. He then looks back to the clerk with flattened ears as he growls. "One quiver of arrows sunshine, not two." he snaps as his claw taps on the line error on the release form.
|
|
|
Post by Lysandor on Apr 22, 2008 14:04:23 GMT -6
"That is true, but because of that, it gives the weilder of the weapon an advantage over enemies," Lysandor replies, an almost-wry tone to his voice. "They do not know how to defend against the weilder."
He watches the tag out of the weapons and armor, making sure they don't make any more mistakes.
|
|
|
Post by Thane on Apr 23, 2008 14:52:18 GMT -6
Thane waits impatiently on the clerk making the corrections on the manifest form for the elite. He looks to Lysandor and nods. "I can see how that has its clear advantage, shrug it off like it is nothing though it may hurt... a lot. Intimidating to your dumbfounded foe."
|
|
|
Post by Narrator on Apr 23, 2008 15:54:18 GMT -6
The very young devil clerk smiles awkwardly to Thane as she shrinks a bit to his loud voice. "I'm so sorry Commander... I'm still in training, I will correct that for you sir." she says with a soft squeaky voice as she slides the manifest back to her and she scribbles out the errant entry. She returns the form to Thane as Sergeant Hallem approaches the counter after securing the vault.
"Please excuse our new recruit master Thane, she is actually learning very swiftly. Though I'm sure she will not make that mistake again, sir... Will you centurion?" his voice is firm but reassuring to ease the situation.
She sheepishly shakes her head no and then hands Lysandor his manifest equally as shy as if he may bite her.
|
|
|
Post by Lysandor on Apr 27, 2008 13:55:04 GMT -6
"What are broken bones to the total defeat of your enemies?" Lysandor says rhetorically, and though smirking, clearly speaking from experience. He picks up the manifest and looks over it before nodding curtly to the Devil recruit, showing his approval. "I believe that is all, Sergeant Hallem."
The Fallen Elite looks over to Thane, something akin to impatience simmering in his sterling eyes. "Shall we be off, Master Thane?"
|
|
|
Post by Thane on Apr 29, 2008 14:49:46 GMT -6
The hound reads the manifest one last time to double check. Then he scribbles his name on it quickly. He snatches up his items and adjusts them to carry out. "Yes that should do it, Sergeant." He then nods to Lysandor and makes for the door. "Lets be off... we are burning daylight and we must make many miles today before nightfall."
Thane practically runs out the door in his eagerness to mount up and start the mission.
|
|
|
Post by Narrator on Apr 29, 2008 15:24:43 GMT -6
As the elite approach the court yard, light chirping and low rumbles can be heard. Two colorful scrabbernewts sit restlessly with their handlers in the yard. They glisten under their light armor and they look ready for the long journey. The Elite guard have already headed out to their assignments in the outland but these beasties look like they are best of the bunch.
A fallen elite stable master approaches the two as they enter the court. "Master Lysandor, Master Thane... your mounts are already supplied with water and provisions, armored and ready for a journey through the deserts just as Lord Regent has ordered. Please let me assist you with your items and securing them on mounts."
He raises his arm as his handlers assistants rush up to take the gear from the elites to situate them in the proper weapons rests in the saddle and gear supports. They await the elite to make their choice of mount so they may load them up.
|
|
|
Post by Lysandor on Apr 29, 2008 19:30:19 GMT -6
Lysandor walks toward on of the scabbernewts, acquainting himself with the beast before he mounts up. It snaps playfully at him, missing his skin by inches, filling the air with the stink of its last meal. It then bumps the end of its snout against the Fallen's chest, chirping almost flirtaciously.
|
|