History of Legion of Amun Ra

[starhunterceo]

Draegore
Cimmerian





Tyranny PvP

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The camp torches lit the night sky with a dark amber glow. With his belly full from the days hunt, Phobyck took time to reflect on days past and what would come from sunrises yet unseen.

The path of war has been set, he thought... all of our fates sealed with bloodshed and flashing steel. To Phobyck, this brought a strange and comforting calm, as he knew no other way to live.


*Phobyck looks around at the amber and shadowed faces of his fellow Legionnaires*


"My brothers and sisters, let us hope the morrow will bring more death and pain to our enemies than e'er before!", cried Phobyck.

A blood chant followed with a deafening roar. With a crooked smile and flecks of foam about his lips, Phobyck knew a glorious death would seek him.


As Phobyck laid down for the eve, the promise of sacrifice to his Legion and Lichlord brought him to a dark and beautiful slumber.

[starhunterceo]

LadyMiriya
Tempest of Set Stygian


Legion in Flames


Cimmeria PvP-RP

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Leaning back, she closed her eyes, her memory flashed of all those lost and gone. She remembered each battle so vividly, each kill so clearly she could actually smell the stench of death in the air, hear the flesh sizzle as lightning struck her foes, feel the heat of the fires as they consumed the bodies of her victims, their screams a melodic song in her mind.

She slowly opened her dark green eyes. Dusk was turning into night, there was an unusual chill in the air. Overhead a raven circled. More death was coming, more pain and anguish was on the way.

She dug her nails into her palms, her heart racing, her body tingling with excitement as a dark, sinister, purely evil smile crossed her blood red lips.

[starhunterceo]

Ashis
Herald of Xotli Stygian




Legion in Flames


Cimmeria PvP-RP

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The flame had claimed the building. Fire crawled all along the charred walls and poured from the windows, spewing black smoke into a sky that rained firey bits of ash on the street below. From the main entrance, the doors broken inward, he emerged out into the street. His pacing was unhurried, for the growing inferno did not touch him. He stood there a moment as his gaze turned to the scene of carnage laid out before him, great sword held down at his side in one hand. He frowned. "How.. disappointing."

Reports had said that the resistance from the town would be much more than they had experienced. They had warriors. Well, they had those that fancied themselves warriors, but they had been found lacking. All in all, the destruction had been orderly and routine. Such mundane slaughters were so terribly boring.

Casually, he turned to face a man that had suddenly appeared, rushing at him with sword in hand. The man struck, and he easily parried with a disdainful smirk, knocking the soldier off balance for a moment. He turned, facing the fool as he spoke. "Kneel before me. Submit to Kaine's will and I shall spare your life.." Of course, pride being the vice of many a Hyborian man, he refused. With a snarl of rage, the man jumped for the herald, sword high over head. Ashis brought his own up and guarded the blow. He lunged forward, defending the blade high as his left hand shot forth and penetrated the man's chest. There was but a breath of stillness in the air, where he soaked in the shocked expression of his foe. Then, screaming. The man burst into flames from the inside out, and cried his pain into the sky. The body charred in mere seconds and Ashis took a step back, yanking the man's blackened heart from the corpse. He looked upon it musingly, before curling his fingers and crushing it into ash.

Idly brushing his hand upon his thigh to wipe it clean, he turned to go, but stopped when he noticed the form of a woman clutching a youth cowering behind some debris. His helmed features curled into a sinister grin and he started towards them. Well, perhaps it wasn't a complete waste of time..

[starhunterceo]

Flower
Ranger Cimmerian




Snowhawk Clan


Cimmeria PvP-RP

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Flower picked her way through charred out remains of a bakery. "Do they have to burn everything?", she mused as her stomach growled with irritation. "Couldn't they have at least spared the food?" In the distance, the frenzied figure of Ashis could be seen hacking apart the remainders of the inept Aquilonian guards.

In her travels throughout Hyboria, Flower had been called many things ... barbarian, vagrant, reaver, savage ... now murderer. But was a bear a murderer for defending it's den? Other peoples looked down on Cimmerians as if being raised in a hut precluded one from their honor or intelligence. As if being swaddled in cloth was more human than being wrapped in animal skins. In fact, it was the "civilized" Southrons that had become stupid, fat, weak, and arrogant behind their stone walls. The sheep felt safe behind their fences, and had forgotten the danger of wolves.

Some of these sheep had become so full of pride, that from the soft belly of Hyboria, they now brought an army of "crusaders" to Cimmeria. They paraded around in sparkling armor and fancied themselves dragons ... they preached their religion, and said that they were bringing Order, Law, and Civilization to Cimmeria.

*Pfft* Well, the things that Flower had found most in the cities of the South were squalor, gluttony, sloth, and corruption. She would not stand idly by as this army sought to spread their diseased existence to her home. The Snowhawk Clan would take the fight to the heart of the enemy. It was time to remind the Southrons why they built walls, why they were afraid of the wilds ... Let them burn! We will have no parades, nor fly any flags, but they will know when we come for it will be in a fury of Fire and Cimmerian steel.

Through a haze of smoke, she could see that Ashis, now done with all the "soldiers" had moved on to setting all the livestock on fire. *sigh* Hopefully, some of the cows would not be too badly charred. At least all the ashes made it easy to track her prey ...

[starhunterceo]

Scorpe
Assassin Aquilonian




Legion in Flames


Cimmeria PvP-RP

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As Scorpe exited the Serpents Head Inne his whipping boy, Kraig "Awenia" Shozi, rode up to him upon his steed. "Master" Kriag said, "The Legion calls upon you; A great war is about to begin with any who do not submit to The Legion". Cooly Scorpe retorted "Very well, Stockings! Grab my battle codpiece and shine my daggers, we shall board the ship at dusk."

[starhunterceo]

Aegisfang
Conqueror




N/A


Tyranny PvP

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The gates of the Keep are finally visible...Bullvyne pauses, closes his eyes and breathes deeply in an effort to calm the fire burning in his blood.

I stand amidst the Legion hordes...a barbarian...a warrior...a Snowhawk! It is time to crush our enemies, drive them from their battle keep, and hear the cries of sorrow as my axe tastes blood.

Bullvyne opens his eyes slowly, his muscles flex as he pulls his axe from his back and begins to walk slowly toward the doomed keep...it is time.

[starhunterceo]

Draegore
Cimmerian





Tyranny PvP

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Phobyck squints his eyes, and peers over the piles of dead bodies and stained broken armor that lay at his feet.

Lungs still burning from the fight, Phobyck bound his wounds and tended to his fallen brothers.

The latest skirmish was over... a clear victor had been chosen that day.


" Ho! Brothers, leave a few to flee. For they will carry back tales of Legion's devils with them -- and how none could stay our might this day. ", bellowed Phobyck.


" Men of these southlands! Gather ye, cowards and dogs alike. Face thy LEGION, Kaine has brought unto you. "


" Will you stand and fight for these bloated, decadent lands -- or loose your bowels in our wake ?"


" Crom take you all. ".

[starhunterceo]

Neverlin
Necromancer Stygian




Legion in Flames


Cimmeria PvP-RP

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Hot Gardack Nights

A mosquito zipped and buzzed about the mammothskin tent, bumping up futilely against the soot covered ceiling searching for an escape.* Neverlin sighed, dabbing the moister from his forehead with a silk napkin and sunk deeper into an arrangement of satin pillows.* Even in the late evening the sticky hot weather was intolerable, and he was sweating like a virgin in the Pyramid of Ancients.* A pile of searing red coals in the center of the tent certainly didn’t help matters either. The mosquito dove towards him suddenly, perilously close, but still just out of the Necromancer’s grasp. With a blink, Neverlin snuffed the life force out of the tiny insect and watched it spiral downward onto the smoldering coals, incinerating it with a faint sizzle.

He really hated the swamps.

One would imagine life assigned to one of the more opulent command tents would prove more commodious.* But the thick canvas only served to trap the moist air in, like living in a dog’s mouth Neverlin thought despondently.* He shook his mane of blond hair in distain, damn those Amazons for dragging him out here.* Nevertheless, these bitches had to be dealt with.* Atlanta and her meddlesome crones had forged a complex series of alliances stretching from Cimmeria to Stygia, openly flouting the Legion’s authority.* Leaving them here to prosper in their swampy home was untenable.

The Legion would not be mocked.

But now, in the wake of this evening’s battle, the Amazon’s recalcitrance had come to an end. The warriors of the Legion overwhelmed the defenses of Gardack, razing the stronghold to the ground and butchering any cowards failing to outrun their comrades. The grand alliance folded, falling as hastily as it was formed. Now, an example had to be made of those that survived.* He dabbed his forehead again and continued his assignment.

*“Next” he announced phlegmatically.**

The flap of the tent flipped open and a broad woman dressed in nothing but heavy chains, was shoved violently forward. A pair of fierce-looking clansmen followed.* Heavy, studded leather straps holding a variety of wicked blades crisscrossed their chests. Large swords swinging in iron scabbards glinted in the hissing torchlight. Menacing tattoos swirling in intricate patterns covered their features. Their massive muscles were caked in dirt, dried blood and soot, and as they stepped in together, Neverlin could smell their sour sweat over his burning incense.** Each held a chain connected to the woman’s neck in their callused covered hands.*

A lively one Neverlin mused.**



His eyes glided over her sweat -slicked body as he appraised the nude woman.* She appeared to have taken a mace to the face, perhaps two, making it difficult to access whether her swollen face may have been attractive at one point.* She swooned and moaned, only able to stand with the assistance of the clansmen holding her up by the chains. She made a strange wheezing sound through her missing teeth as she fought for each labored breath.

Neverlin twirled his finger in a lazy circle. “Let’s see the back.” Roughly, the big Cimmerians twisted the woman around; Neverlin winced when he saw the deep slash running between her shoulder blades, ending at the small of her back.* Neverlin’s knowledge in anatomy was unmatched. He quickly judged one could not survive such a grievous wound.* However this cut appeared sealed by a long black ashy streak.* The mark of a Herald no doubt.* If Neverlin put silver to it, he would guess Ashis.* That wicked boy very much enjoyed watching his victims writhe on the ground long after the fight was over, while Izumi had no time for such games.

Neverlin considered the woman a moment longer, taking this duty extremely seriously.* Turning his attention to the selection of iron brands nestled within the searing coals, he drew the first from the flames carefully.* He looked to the end of the brand, a frowning skull, the mark of Kaine.* Neverlin raised his eyebrows, and placed the brand back with the others, shaking his head “certainly not” he muttered to himself.*

He plucked another brand from the lot, and frowned with displeasure at the bursting flame, the officers’ symbol.* Gritting his teeth and becoming increasingly annoyed that he continued to select the incorrect brands; he tossed it back with the others. Neverlin picked up the next, a simple circle. Women so marked serviced the rank and file warriors of the Clan; the circle also indicated kitchen duty for older slaves. Neverlin looked from the iron circle to the prisoner a few times before placing it back with the others.* A thin smile crept across his lips as he drew the last brand, forged with a simple “X”, perfect he thought. “Let the mercs of Templum Assassinorum have her. Pigs can sustain themselves on slop” he said with a clever look in his blue eyes.

With pleasure, he drew the brand and drove it into the woman’s shoulder.* She suddenly screamed to life for a moment as a piercing howl whistled through the gap in her teeth.* Sadly, she went silent again before the blistering of her skin ceased.

“Next” he said blithely.

Boisterous hooting and hollering obviously meant to intimidate sounded outside the tent as the burley clansman pulled the flap aside. The prisoner stumbled in, catching hold of the pole before falling on her face.* She worn only a tight brown skirt, revealing a young curvy figure complemented well by smooth mocha skin.* Her twin auburn braids d****d over her chest, teasingly concealing her round breasts. She wore a stern expression, a compound of resentment, injured pride and mulish obstinacy.* Still, Neverlin noticed the slightest quiver of her lower lip. He tasted fear.* Anxious to augment her dread, he addressed her in gentle tone “ What do they call you child?”

The Amazon’s tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “Tindra,” she said in a small, strained voice.* Neverlin flashed her a treacherous glare and his mouth turned up in a grin: where was this woman’s haughty disposition now?

Taking a long and deliberate look at her shapely legs, he slowly stood and approached the Amazon; lifting his violet robe a hair to ensure it would not drag upon the ground.* He cupped her chin forcefully in his hand, forcing her face to the left and right appraising the stock.* Neverlin casually flicked the braid to the side and seized her right nipple, twisting as he spoke in his liquid tone.

“The Lich Lord tires of women quickly, no matter how beautiful.” Neverlin twisted harder until she gasped in pain. “I expect it will be no different with you, and when he moves on to the next, he gives us the ones he is finished with. If she still lives of course.” His ice blue eyes gleamed in menace and his lips turned up in a smile completely bereft of humor “Know that I will be first.”* Her dark eyes flooded with anguish and the men in the tent laughed uproariously.* Neverlin’s grinned widened; pleased they found his wit so entertaining.

His fingers drifted to her left breast, but light abruptly flooded the tent, drawing his attention. “Lord Neverlin,” a young man’s voice said.* It came from the flap of the tent; a young scout poked his head in. He was a pale lad, his face showing traces of a red beard sprouting like moss.*

“What is it?”

“Lord, I am sorry for the interruption, but I regret to report the Queen and her General have escaped” Neverlin tutted. The Liche Lord charged him with delivering up the Queen and General for his personal amusement.* This failure would certainly prove painful for Neverlin.* Thankfully, the Liche Lord had already set his sights northward, marching on Oakenhome within hours of concluding the Legion had attained victory here.*

He still had time.

Neverlin held the scout with his penetrating gaze, saying nothing as he pondered the report. The scout squirmed with discomfort under the Necromancer’s frightful stare.* “I shall double my efforts,” The scout offered, no doubt hoping this may assuage the Necromancer’s anger.* Neverlin smiled back, “Good, I should hope you will double your efforts…. in your new assignment.”* The scout stared back dumbly, and then raised a hand in protest as the big clansman snatched him by his carrot topknot and hauled him the rest of the way into the tent.*

Neverlin reached for the white hot Officer’s brand as the grizzly veteran punched the youth in the face to silence his vigorous remonstrations.* He dragged the youth to the Necromancer by the legs as if the scout was a spring hen. The warrior held the young man’s arms behind his back and ripped open his tunic revealing a hairless chest.* The scout shut his eyes tight and turned his face away, screaming incoherently as Neverlin planted the searing bursting flame symbol into his chest.* The boy trembled, sobbing inconsolably as Neverlin spoke.

“After all, not all officer’s have the same taste.”

Neverlin suspected the Tempest Miriyah had not seen cock since Fenixx’s unexpected departure. Whether that was the case or not, she certainly seemed moody as of late. Perhaps this little twink was just the release she needed.* Neverlin was tickled with how thoughtful he could be at times.

“Now leave this girl with me, I believe I’ve earned a respite myself…”

Neverlin shrugged.* Kaine was gone…and he was in trouble anyway.

[starhunterceo]

Rykoth
Advocate Bear Shaman




Elkhorn Clan


Cimmeria PvP-RP

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The Chieftain sat on the roughly built stool, armor off as the shaman treated the wound, digging into the small hole made by the arrow that had dug itself into his arm. He winced, and bit down on a thick rope he had brought with him to the tower. His teeth dug into the heavy rope, almost too hard, as the pain surged through his arm, until the shaman pulled the arrowhead out. The blood trickled down his arm, yet the Cimmerian released his grip on the rope, letting it fall onto his lap.

He shrugged his shoulder as the shaman applied to the bandage, grimacing, glowering with anger at the thoughts of what had just occurred.

The Dragons... he had meant to go there with his small warband and plunder them. They were in numbers, and before anything could be done... surrounded. Then the bandits came, and dared to attack HIS Clan. The anger that washed over him was a red fury as his sword and axe cut down bandit limbs heatedly, only stalled by brief sorcery. His initial plan failed, but he followed through with one thing that did not.

He made it clear, the Elkhorn wanted Stonehammer back.

Yet it wasn't the Dragons that were the true enemy of the night. The bandits pushed them, and so he had ordered his Clan to help the civilized deal with the outlaws - he was not a man to fight two sides and act as a coward hitting both from behind. Not like the dogs who dared challenge him... Briesse, that red hair who dare call herself Cimmerian yet aid sorcerers, and her pet. Fearghus's rage boiled at that.

Then that archer, mask covered had dared challenge him. Taunt him. And such had been the cause of the wound in his shoulder, the one reminder of the fight besides the fresh blood on his blades. That battle was won by the Elkhorn...

Blood feuds... the desire for conquest... Fearghus gritted his teeth as he shrugged on a tunic, in preperation to speak with the Elders. It was time to decide the next plan of action.

[starhunterceo]

Demala
Necromancer Stygian


Taskelion


Cimmeria PvP-RP

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Kashta sat before her desk, her quarters cramped and uncomfortably stuffy. A far cry from what she had in Kihneris, yet still she smiled as she took a waxed pouch from her belt and slowly upended it's contents into a small jar. Her other hand held a cloth to her face as she did so, carefully, carefully....inhaling the small cloud that billowed up from it would be a mistake.

At last, done. Such a tiny amount, for the trouble she'd gone to for it. She set the lid tightly on the jar and relaxed, rolling her head to stretch her neck out. When she'd been stopped for papers on her way to her contact, her heart had hammered loudly enough in her chest that she was surprised no one else had heard. To be stopped so close to her goal....she gave a soft chuckle. Quick wits, from both herself and Keyarie, had gotten them past the Amazons and to the officious oaf that eventually gave them papers.

They'd actually believed her...as if she'd be concerned over some Aquilonian slave's family. Even if her brother had married the slut, she wouldn't travel to Tesso to see to her kin. But to get the final ingredient for one of her oils, oh, yes.

A knock interrupted her thoughts, and she stood quickly, locking the jar away before moving to answer the door. A large Stygian waited, his craggy face lowered.

"Everything is ready, Mistress. We can leave anytime."

She smirked at him, enjoying the slight tension that betrayed his continuing resistance to her. Oh how she relished breaking them....if they didn't have the summons from Lord Cach to take care of, she'd take time for another 'lesson' with this one. "Very good, Vega. Bring my chest here...carefully! Don't jostle it...and let's be on our way."

Then again....perhaps she could try some of the things she had in mind out on Vega, on the road. She smiled, anticipating the journey.

And what awaited her at it's end.