- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- Multiple posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- No Preferences
- Genres
- High fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by modern fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Pure reaction had saved Rhys from the hail of gunfire that had accompanied the opening of the doors. It wasn't as though such a phenomenon was unanticipated, but were it not for the bullet that had ripped through the door before it had even fully opened Rhys might not have guessed at the full ferocity waiting in the next room. Instead that single, over anticipated bullet, moving so fast that it was barely more than a blur of light and color, gave Rhys enough time to disappear behind a nearby wall as the soldiers began to empty their weapons. In the first lull, Rhys moved, hurtling through the doorway, slipping past and through a couple delayed shots, and clubbing the nearest Vollori over the head, following the suddenly limp form towards the ground as a brief moment of shelter before moving on to the next, and the next.
This was the last defense of the Empire, their last chance for salvation. The best of the best were here, and after a certain point, there was simply no keeping track of the soldiers as individuals. The only way to approach it was as individual limbs of some massive beast. More than half of them would fall, never to get back up again, because Rhys had not time to pull the blows and change it from something that would crush the skull to something that would render the target unconscious.
It was not until Rhys was more than halfway through the room that Captain Yolhn came into sight. Rhys had only caught a single, brief glimpse of the captain during that period of transfer, before the cell had closed in and drowned out all sense, but there was no forgetting that shillouette. Even among the Vollori Captains, Yolhn was a good looking man, the crest of his head adorned with rare double wings, and spines surrounding the rest of his face. His giant wings were folded up behind his back, but Rhys knew they could snap out in an instant and deliver just as powerful a blow as any fist. His eyes were cold, and hard as ice.
But he made the mistake of waiting, of letting his men press until there were none left, acting under the assumption that somehow his feelings of innate superiority would save him where nearly a hundred of his finest had thusfar failed. He made the mistake of waiting, and there was no way he could stand up against Rhys alone.
The Karthk'yarii gave him a chance, although it was little more than a pretense and a game. Yolhn was able to throw one blow, slicing with razor sharp points on his wings at the wrong spot, and hitting nothing but another mass of feelers, before Rhys had overwhelmed him. For the first time Rhys allowed a taste of pleasure to arise at the look of panic that grew in his eyes, the knowledge that he had miscalculated. That moment was worth all the torment, all the starvation and the abuse, that Rhys had suffered over the past Luner.
And then Yolhn was unconscious, joining the piles of his soldiers, and Rhys moved on.
"Isindyll, we need to..." Rhys froze, sensing the motion. There was someone still conscious within the room. Someone who had gotten back up. It was the only one in the room who was not a Vollori, and Rhys had misjudged the strength of its skull. It had a knife in one hand, a gun in the other. There was a moment of tense, hot silence, then Rhys'evin was moving.
The gunshot flew wide and wild, barely needing to be dodged, and Rhys was only moments away, a mass of feeler forming into a giant club that would be sure to be effective no matter how thick its skull was when...
"Rhys, no! Don't kill Nyarri!"
The Karthk'yarii had no such intent, had intended to hold to the promise given to Isindyll that death would only be given by strictest necessity for Rhys' own survival. A lone attacker would never drive such necessity. But Isindyll had not known that, had not known how dense her friend's skull was, and the kind of force it would take to render her unconscious. Rhys hesitated, unable to act against the sheer panic in Isindyll's voice. The feelers unraveled, and their form shattered apart upon contact, offering no damage. The knife fell, and there was a sudden, violent burst of pain as it sheered off nearly a quarter of Rhys' body. The lucky blow had finally come. It fell away, carrying thousands of feelers with it, and even though Rhys stopped moving the momentum of the attack hurtled the assassin into the soldier, knocking her over and burying her under thousands of feelers and white Karthk'yarii blood.
And the world went dark as Isindyll screamed.
This was the last defense of the Empire, their last chance for salvation. The best of the best were here, and after a certain point, there was simply no keeping track of the soldiers as individuals. The only way to approach it was as individual limbs of some massive beast. More than half of them would fall, never to get back up again, because Rhys had not time to pull the blows and change it from something that would crush the skull to something that would render the target unconscious.
It was not until Rhys was more than halfway through the room that Captain Yolhn came into sight. Rhys had only caught a single, brief glimpse of the captain during that period of transfer, before the cell had closed in and drowned out all sense, but there was no forgetting that shillouette. Even among the Vollori Captains, Yolhn was a good looking man, the crest of his head adorned with rare double wings, and spines surrounding the rest of his face. His giant wings were folded up behind his back, but Rhys knew they could snap out in an instant and deliver just as powerful a blow as any fist. His eyes were cold, and hard as ice.
But he made the mistake of waiting, of letting his men press until there were none left, acting under the assumption that somehow his feelings of innate superiority would save him where nearly a hundred of his finest had thusfar failed. He made the mistake of waiting, and there was no way he could stand up against Rhys alone.
The Karthk'yarii gave him a chance, although it was little more than a pretense and a game. Yolhn was able to throw one blow, slicing with razor sharp points on his wings at the wrong spot, and hitting nothing but another mass of feelers, before Rhys had overwhelmed him. For the first time Rhys allowed a taste of pleasure to arise at the look of panic that grew in his eyes, the knowledge that he had miscalculated. That moment was worth all the torment, all the starvation and the abuse, that Rhys had suffered over the past Luner.
And then Yolhn was unconscious, joining the piles of his soldiers, and Rhys moved on.
"Isindyll, we need to..." Rhys froze, sensing the motion. There was someone still conscious within the room. Someone who had gotten back up. It was the only one in the room who was not a Vollori, and Rhys had misjudged the strength of its skull. It had a knife in one hand, a gun in the other. There was a moment of tense, hot silence, then Rhys'evin was moving.
The gunshot flew wide and wild, barely needing to be dodged, and Rhys was only moments away, a mass of feeler forming into a giant club that would be sure to be effective no matter how thick its skull was when...
"Rhys, no! Don't kill Nyarri!"
The Karthk'yarii had no such intent, had intended to hold to the promise given to Isindyll that death would only be given by strictest necessity for Rhys' own survival. A lone attacker would never drive such necessity. But Isindyll had not known that, had not known how dense her friend's skull was, and the kind of force it would take to render her unconscious. Rhys hesitated, unable to act against the sheer panic in Isindyll's voice. The feelers unraveled, and their form shattered apart upon contact, offering no damage. The knife fell, and there was a sudden, violent burst of pain as it sheered off nearly a quarter of Rhys' body. The lucky blow had finally come. It fell away, carrying thousands of feelers with it, and even though Rhys stopped moving the momentum of the attack hurtled the assassin into the soldier, knocking her over and burying her under thousands of feelers and white Karthk'yarii blood.
And the world went dark as Isindyll screamed.