redawson2
Ink Addicted
- Jul 8, 2003
- 12,406
- 242
Polaris Eridanus/ Kakariko Village/ Dawn of the 4th
The morning sun still struggled to crack the blackened facade of the distant horizon and the General turned Hand was dying. Polaris opened his eyes and saw nothing neither far nor near. A vast expanse spread out before him and yet, it was empty. Wherever he was, whatever the place, he felt that he wasn’t welcome. He was a stranger in an even stranger land. So, he would not die today. Death wasn’t something to be feared for one who’d already met its embrace. No, he had no fear of dying, but somehow after spending some measure of time here, he knew it wouldn’t be allowed. Some cosmic force, be it they of the Triune or She of the Sands, someone, somewhere in the distance nudged him back towards existence. Back towards the battle.
Cold dead fingers scratched and clawed at his armored back, trying to work their way down to the soft flesh underneath. Taden was talking. Again. There was another force present now as well, interesting. Polaris’ eyes shot open and he wrenched his body hard to the side, letting go of magic that held his armor in place at the same time, it fell from him in a roiling wave of red ice that either froze or burned the zombies closest to him. Polaris snatched the silver blade from the air by the hilt milliseconds before it would have struck the tombstone. In the same motion, Polaris brought the blade to his own flesh, dragging it smoothly across his forearm. Bleeding freely, the General raised his arm high with blooding flowing down and dripping off of his elbow he muttered something under his breath.
The blood siphoned from the Generals wound and swirled around him in a cyclone very much like one The Hated himself may have wrought. Standing in the middle of the maelstrom with his eyes gleaming, Eridanus sliced the air in front of him horizontally with his old silver dagger and expelled his crimson whirlwind. His blood shot out in all directions, spattering a large knot of Hyrule long since dead nobles. Rising to his feet, Polaris stared down the horde which now surrounded him.
”Subdue any undead whom I have not marked. Drag them to their graves if you must, it is time we lay them to rest once more.”
The crowd dispersed and Polaris strode forward. He spun the Maskmakers Knife in his palm, gripping it backwards in his left hand even as Winters Tide took its true hand-and-a-half form in his right. One of Seishi’s spawn was on the outskirts of the battle, she had undergone some sort of transformation, but even so, all of the Ma carried a certain, unmistakeable air of acrimony. Polaris nodded in her direction without breaking stride.
”Ever have you been the loquacious one Taden, but tonight I see you with a horde of undead and a gaggle of assassins and I start to wonder if the great Hothnight is naught but a scared little boy at the core.”
Polaris drove headlong into the lines of Twili assassins who had moved to intercept him, cutting through them with devastating precision. Their odd colored blood caked his blades and flecked his red and silver streaked scales as he dispatched the without further comment.
In what seemed mere moments, Polaris found himself face to face with Taden.
”Shall we?”
The Terminian swung wildly with Aurgelmir, looking to end his foe in one fell swoop. With a cold snap, Polaris brought Winters Tide up, catching the blow on the flat of his blade and sliding in close. Driving his shoulder hard into the sword arm of Horwendil at the joint. With a growl, Taden pushed back, neither giving ground. The temperatures plummeted as the two fought for position and cold rolled out from them in sheets and waves, incapacitating the remaining assassins and causing the joints of the shambling royals to lock up and send their skeletons tumbling to the earth. Pushing off, Taden spun away causing Polaris, who lashed out with the Maskmakers Knife at that same instant, to stumble backwards and just barely slice the hem of that damnable cloak.
Driving forward, Polaris lashed out with blow after blow, sacrificing form for volume. The song of their blades rang out across the graveyard. Blue Fire and Red Ice. Back and forth. It filled the air until that which once was Chamdar rose, and in doing so, he drew Taden’s attention for the briefest of moments. Polaris leapt forward, tackling him to the ground he landed astride his foe, and chest heaving, he raised Winters Tide high above his head, Red Ice exploded along the length of the blade as he moved. His frigid Crimson aura burning bright in his eyes.
Summary:
Sure is a lot of blood magic going on this morning. I think the song only partially fits, but dang if it wasn't stuck in my head tonight.
The morning sun still struggled to crack the blackened facade of the distant horizon and the General turned Hand was dying. Polaris opened his eyes and saw nothing neither far nor near. A vast expanse spread out before him and yet, it was empty. Wherever he was, whatever the place, he felt that he wasn’t welcome. He was a stranger in an even stranger land. So, he would not die today. Death wasn’t something to be feared for one who’d already met its embrace. No, he had no fear of dying, but somehow after spending some measure of time here, he knew it wouldn’t be allowed. Some cosmic force, be it they of the Triune or She of the Sands, someone, somewhere in the distance nudged him back towards existence. Back towards the battle.
Cold dead fingers scratched and clawed at his armored back, trying to work their way down to the soft flesh underneath. Taden was talking. Again. There was another force present now as well, interesting. Polaris’ eyes shot open and he wrenched his body hard to the side, letting go of magic that held his armor in place at the same time, it fell from him in a roiling wave of red ice that either froze or burned the zombies closest to him. Polaris snatched the silver blade from the air by the hilt milliseconds before it would have struck the tombstone. In the same motion, Polaris brought the blade to his own flesh, dragging it smoothly across his forearm. Bleeding freely, the General raised his arm high with blooding flowing down and dripping off of his elbow he muttered something under his breath.
The blood siphoned from the Generals wound and swirled around him in a cyclone very much like one The Hated himself may have wrought. Standing in the middle of the maelstrom with his eyes gleaming, Eridanus sliced the air in front of him horizontally with his old silver dagger and expelled his crimson whirlwind. His blood shot out in all directions, spattering a large knot of Hyrule long since dead nobles. Rising to his feet, Polaris stared down the horde which now surrounded him.
”Subdue any undead whom I have not marked. Drag them to their graves if you must, it is time we lay them to rest once more.”
The crowd dispersed and Polaris strode forward. He spun the Maskmakers Knife in his palm, gripping it backwards in his left hand even as Winters Tide took its true hand-and-a-half form in his right. One of Seishi’s spawn was on the outskirts of the battle, she had undergone some sort of transformation, but even so, all of the Ma carried a certain, unmistakeable air of acrimony. Polaris nodded in her direction without breaking stride.
”Ever have you been the loquacious one Taden, but tonight I see you with a horde of undead and a gaggle of assassins and I start to wonder if the great Hothnight is naught but a scared little boy at the core.”
Polaris drove headlong into the lines of Twili assassins who had moved to intercept him, cutting through them with devastating precision. Their odd colored blood caked his blades and flecked his red and silver streaked scales as he dispatched the without further comment.
In what seemed mere moments, Polaris found himself face to face with Taden.
”Shall we?”
The Terminian swung wildly with Aurgelmir, looking to end his foe in one fell swoop. With a cold snap, Polaris brought Winters Tide up, catching the blow on the flat of his blade and sliding in close. Driving his shoulder hard into the sword arm of Horwendil at the joint. With a growl, Taden pushed back, neither giving ground. The temperatures plummeted as the two fought for position and cold rolled out from them in sheets and waves, incapacitating the remaining assassins and causing the joints of the shambling royals to lock up and send their skeletons tumbling to the earth. Pushing off, Taden spun away causing Polaris, who lashed out with the Maskmakers Knife at that same instant, to stumble backwards and just barely slice the hem of that damnable cloak.
Driving forward, Polaris lashed out with blow after blow, sacrificing form for volume. The song of their blades rang out across the graveyard. Blue Fire and Red Ice. Back and forth. It filled the air until that which once was Chamdar rose, and in doing so, he drew Taden’s attention for the briefest of moments. Polaris leapt forward, tackling him to the ground he landed astride his foe, and chest heaving, he raised Winters Tide high above his head, Red Ice exploded along the length of the blade as he moved. His frigid Crimson aura burning bright in his eyes.
Summary:
Sure is a lot of blood magic going on this morning. I think the song only partially fits, but dang if it wasn't stuck in my head tonight.