Zeph
from up here the sky is my thoughts
- Pronoun
- he
Click here for the OOC thread. You must join there to roleplay here.
As a note to all players - To begin, your character will most probably be undergoing usual everyday activities, so don't worry about trying to advance the plot until it's needed.
To all Goblin-players - it should be obvious what you should be doing after reading the below.
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As a note to all players - To begin, your character will most probably be undergoing usual everyday activities, so don't worry about trying to advance the plot until it's needed.
To all Goblin-players - it should be obvious what you should be doing after reading the below.
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The sun was setting, slow and bright, on Fort Kazros. Sinister Hak was standing, waiting, in a large, circular room in the fort's central tower. He paced left and right, his malicious mind in deep thought as he approached the huge window on the room's north side. He looked out, down the slopes of Mount Gjashpiik, and observed the seemingly endless crowds of Goblin soldiers, being arranged - and, in some cases, punished - in perfect ranks by members of the Sinister Guard, his personally-chosen favourites, his elite fighters. He watched as the soldiers - or pawns, as he liked to call them - lined up in units, serrated scimitars in one hand, and triple-spiked pikestaffs in the other.
He lowered his vision and saw his second-in-command, the head of the Sinister Guard, Brandhyr, watching much like Hak was from the north wall of the Fort, occasionally screaming down orders to certain soldiers. Hak saw, with anger, a slacker, leaning lazily against his pike, who Brandhyr had not yet noticed. He wished he could smite the slacker, destroy it, bring down fire and a thousand bolts of lightning upon it - but he could not, for magic was the only power he did not posses, his only weakness... Brandhyr would deal with it soon, anyway...
Hak turned away and crossed the room to the other window. Now he could see down the south slopes of Gjashpiik, all the way down to the ocean, tainted black by the powers of Fort Kazros. On these slopes were the Sorcerers, around a thousand of them, all shrouded completely in black hooded robes, arranged in order with no slackers, each one of them slowly chanting, swaying, twisting and waving their arms in perfect unison, practicing spells under the lead of the Seven Sinister Sorcerers who, like Brandhyr had been, were standing upon the wall and looking down of them. The Seven were leading the Spellcasting, executing the movements and incantations with such perfect timing it was as if they were telepathically connected - which they probably were. Oh, how he envied the sorcerers -
No. He did not envy anyone. He was Sinister Hak, leader and commander of the Goblins of Gjashdil. Nothing made him envious, nothing.
He sighed, and heard footsteps coming from the spiral staircase that lead downstairs.
"Your Sinisterness," came a gruff voice. He turned and saw a head wearing a black-plumed helmet looking at him from the floor.
"Brandhyr. What is it?"
"Well, my lord, the army is almost ready to advance."
"Good. What is the plan?"
Brandhyr climbed up the last few steps and stooped into the room. Hak scowled. Brandhyr was a very big goblin, and was at least a head taller than the Sinister. Brandhyr unrolled a dark scroll in his hand, and showed Hak a map of all of Nisdharil.
"First we will march to Gjashmraw," said Brandhyr, pointing to the peninsula at the south-west of Gjashdil, directly west of the Fort. "From there, we will sail - we have prepared many large galleons to take the soldiers, but some may have to resort to swimming..." he smirked slightly. "Anyway, we will sail to the North-West side of Banari, and from there it should be obvious. We will send around quarter of units across the Monari, too."
"Excellent. When shall we leave?"
Brandhyr looked at the sunset, which was almost over.
"In about ten minutes."
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