Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24449631-20140827094909/@comment-3293219-20140831130327

Nadira slowly followed the group inside, Azarath wandered off and started stomping on the heads of any undead he came across. The Dunmer had dealt with this kind of stuff before...

As the former bandit chief's boot went through a corpse's skull and the wet sound of snapping bones echoed throughout the room, he heard some form of commotion in the room opposite. Without warning or prompt, he ran into the room, unseen by the group. Well, unseen by everyone but Nadira, who immediately went after him.

"Az!" She hissed, looking around as she navigated the series of small corridors that lead to the next room. She spoke softly, not wanting to draw too much attention to herself but trying to be loud enough to get her companion's attention.

"Azarath!"

"In here..." He whispered, his voice seemed to be disembodied and she had no idea where he was speaking from. Still, she went with her gut and followed the trail of corridors, hoping to find him in the next room. She eventually found him, stood opposite a door, which seemed to be emitting a bunch of gags and groans, chattering of the undead.

"One of the bastards is in there..." He whispered, slowly reaching over to the young Breton, with a serious look on his face. He held his hand out, like he was expecting her to cough up stolen property, hoping that she'd hand him her sword.

"I need your sword..."

"What do I use?" She asked, still giving the Dunmer the blade, it was quite noisy as the steel slid against her leather holster as she slowly passed it to him. Azarath gracefully took it before bringing it up to his face, examining it and weighing up his odds...

"You use your imagination; wait here for me to get back..."

"What!? No, we do things together or not at all... We get the others, if we only have one wea-"

The Dunmer didn't want to hear this drivel, he just cut her off and ran inside, bursting through the door and slamming it shut behind him. Nadira was tempted to hit the door and start screaming, her hand was hovering over it as she was about to give him a piece of her mind for being so stupid and reckless. He never discussed anything, he just did stuff, seemingly on a whim, however, making a fuss would just ruin what little advantage he may have and she wasn't entirely certain that there weren't more undead, aimlessly wandering around this tomb.

Azarath marched deeper into the room, seeing that there were about a dozen undead creatures between him and the door at the end, zombies and skeletons...

Perfect...

He heard the snarl of a zombie as it clumsily lunged at him, though it didn't startle him in the slightest. The bandit swung the steel sword, horizontally, across the creature's chest, slicing it in half and sending it spinning to the floor. One of its undead brethren stepped up, running towards him with an iron mace and a heavily chipped iron shield as it took its first swing. Azarath was quick to duck, spin kicking and knocking the abomination off of its feet and knocking it to the floor, where it shattered into several pieces. Azarath, to save time, brought his heavy boot down on its head to finish it off.

The Dunmer was then jumped by another zombie, it grabbed hold of his armour and began to snarl in his face, practically adding insult to injury as it's foul breath filled his nostrils. Azarath quickly retaliated by head butting it in the face, causing it to stagger back before he decapitated it with Nadira's sword. He then swung it around, knowing that time had been wasted and more undead might have gained on him, his hunch was right as his sword, almost immediately, cut through a skeleton's head, decapitating it and sending its severed head to the ground.

Two more of its skeletal brethren came along, one armed with a great sword and the other armed with an iron short sword. Most likely tin soldiers from Ulfric or Tullias' army, either way, they weren't shit now.

Azarath ducked and picked up one of the fallen skeleton's maces before swinging upwards and shattering the short sword’s face, into a million tiny fragments, which flew across the room, along with the skeleton's towering body. The great sword swung his weapon towards Azarath, hoping that his sacrificed comrade would distract him long enough to get a hit in but the Dunmer was quick to evade it, rolling to the left and narrowly missing the blade before it hit the ground.

He jumped up to his feet and charged into the skeleton, placing his fingers between its ribs and lifting it off of its feet before slamming it back down to the ground, with a heavy, bone shattering, thud. He got on top of it and repeatedly beat at the skull with his mace, not buying into any of this 'go for the arms' crap. If you're taking a man down? You go for the head, that was always his rule anyway...

It was then that he looked up, to see one more shambler, slowly staggering towards him, he narrowed his eyes in disgust and determination before marching over to it and snatching its throat, he had plans for this one...

-

With both arms removed and its teeth smashed in, Azarath was now safely able to use the undead creature as a human shield. He knew that a trap must be waiting for him, on the far side of that door...

Necromancers were clever sons of bitches, all mages were, they were always one step ahead and so, Azarath always made a point of preparing for anything, when going up against them. The zombie seemed somewhat docile, since it had lost its means to attack but he wasn't going to take any chances, he took a tight grip of its neck and slowly moved towards the door, pushing it against the wooden surface, to check for booby traps.

Azarath kicked the door open, causing the entire structure of the door to rattle, hinges and all as it flew open, revealing the black robed Almter before him. The Dunmer just frowned, pushing his new friend deeper into the necromancer's lair as he charged up a spell, releasing an ice spike at Azarath as he appeared, slithering in, from behind the door's cover. The ice spike dug into the shuffler's chest, causing it to gag, like the usually did when they got hit.

Two more ice spikes followed, both dug deep inside the zombie's torso, the creature made a good shield... Azarath pushed it deeper inside before eventually throwing it forward, just as another ice spike was fired, flying past the zombie's head and hitting Azarath. The ice spike had grazed his head, sending him spinning to the floor, he growled, either in pain or frustration as all three entities fell to the floor.

The toothless zombie lay on its master, squirming and snarling at him as it struggled to get up, his master put the pathetic sight out of its misery before jumping up to his feet, holding some sort of cursed staff, with a skull on top. The Altmer narrowed his own eyes now as he watched the Dunmer slowly pull himself upright; he was somewhat dazed from the ice spike to the head.

It was then that he jerked forward, something had taken hold of his leg, he looked down to see a zombie torso, one that he had chopped in half and forgot to finish off earlier, which was now gripping his left shin and snapping at him with his teeth, like a turtle. Azarath, annoyed and insulted by this, brought his heavy boot up and slammed it down on the creature's head, smashing his head in, with one downward thrust before looking up and receiving a fire bolt to the chest, which sent him flying across the room.

The Outlaw went skidding along the floor before coming to a complete stop, slowly looking up to see the Altmer approaching him, his staff glowing at the tip. He eventually reached Azarath and stood over him before drawing the staff and pointing the staff head at his face, the small animal skull began to radiate some form of red magic. Azarath scowled at the sight of it but found that he was too weak to stand, he slowly brought his hand up and took hold of the rocks, noticing that his chest was now completely exposed.

"I shall make your corpse kill your 'friends' before tearing itself apart!" The Necromancer threatened, getting some sort of psychotic glee from the thought of it, the beauty of it all. It was then that something was caught out of the corner of his eye; a split second was all he had to react before an arrow hit him in the chest. He stumbled back, gasping as he, almost immediately, felt his arms go numb and prompting him to drop the staff to the floor.

He looked up to see a Breton, stood opposite him, aiming with another arrow. She slowly approached him, keeping her arrow trained on the Altmer, her hands trembled as millions of thoughts rushed through her head and everything felt like it was speeding up. She'd never wounded someone like this before, hurt people sure but never mortally wounded someone. Still, he could be saved, so it was better than killing him.

"Surr-ender!" She stammered, clearing her throat immediately after, to hide her fear.

"What!? Surrender!? You came here to... k-k-k-kill me..."

"No, we came here to stop you. We have done, your minions are dead and you won't last on your own, you need treatment and we can provide it. Just give up, no one has to die here..."

The Almter looked at her, somewhat confused by her demands; did she know what he was? What he had done?

Before he could respond, Azarath drew his iron dagger and rammed it into the Altmer's chest, succeeding in hitting the heart this time. The Necromancer squawked as the blade went in, putting it to a stop, he simply gawked at his killer as his pupils went larger as he was finally taken in by death, an entity that he had spent his entire life defying. The Altmer fell backwards and landed with a thud, his last breaths as weak as they were haunted the room for a brief moment before he completely expired...

Nadira continued to tremble, the reality of the situation barely registering...

She'd... Killed someone...

Indirectly, maybe but this... this was all her fault. That man wasn't a threat anymore, why did he...

"Why did you do that? He wasn't a threat!"

"He was... Guy's been down here for too long, ain't no comin' back from that..." Azarath grumbled, as he stood up and dusted himself off, looking down to see that the fireball had completely burned through his armour and it had managed to blister his chest a little.

"No, he was... Alive!" Nadira protested, slowly lowering her bow as her head snapped over to the Dunmer, the rage was practically radiating from her at this point.

"There's more people in his... zombies than there was in him. He weren't salvagable!"

"You don't know that!"

"I do!

I used to make that call, all the time, I know when they can't be saved and that guy? He was out of his damned mind Nad, he would've killed you and screwed your corpse, given the chance!"

Nadira wasn't listening to any more of this; she snatched her arrows from the altmer's chest before marching off, heading back to her group. She put the bloody arrows in her quiver and kept one on hand, just in case as she made her way back.

Azarath was left alone; he stayed a while, to loot the bodies before following her out, with the steel sword, mace a shield and the Altmer's staff. The two of them met at the entrance as they stood, waiting for the others, Nadira didn't have anything to say as she stood in silence, staring at the ground.