RP:Raid Gone Wrong
- Location: Gualon Grog Shop
Hadrian enters the tavern now, a boyish grin gripped upon his visage, diluting his otherwise ever-stoic demeanor. The grizzled Warrior offers a nod of acknowledgement to Grargh, whom have become fast friends as of late—or so Hadrian likes to think. It was difficult for the barkeep to get a word in edgewise when in Hadrian’s company; Hadrian simply thought it was funny. His stride, comparable to the march of a soldier to the cadence of clink-clinking armaments, carries him up to the bar, whereupon Grargh knowingly pours him a shot of whiskey. “Thank you, brother,” he lifts the shot up to his lips, and then downs it without even so much as a grimace on his part. He taps his hand upon the roughly-hewn bartop, and Grargh pours another, the glass his hefted, but instead of drank, Hadrian turns about face, to peer upon the masses that have come together for quiet celebration within the Tavern. He smiles to himself, hearing talk about the recent trade goods that arrived, and how much they were helping the people here. His seemingly ubiquitous gaze finds the man, or rather thing, he is looking for; Dudd. “Ah, there you are.” He begins in a rough tone, akin to the sound of gravel grinding beneath boot, “In a place like this, I’d say you were trying to hide, brother,” His words are spoken, obviously, to Dudd, whom stuck out like a sore thumb—words of course, in the inclination of a joke. Nonchalantly, he carries himself over on long strides to the Giant, and offers a respectful nod of his head, “You’re looking for a job, aye brother?” His thick, yet commonplace here, accent is ever-present in his words; the mention of the word brother so oft simply a product of such.
Dudd looks down at Hadrian, a slow nod of head, serious, but not melodramatic, "Dudd wants to smash whatever you want to be smashed. I saw your offer in Kelay. Dudd talks funny according to the ears of small-ums. You are not like others. You just want the job done. Dudd is my name. Just Dudd. Giants here don't care much for fancy frosty titles." His reference to the frost giant habit of regaling their status with names may or may not be detected, "When do we smash?"
Hadrian laughs now, not in mock jest of the Giant before him, but rather in surprise at Dudd’s excitement to get things moving, “We leave as soon as you are ready, brother.” The earlier allusion to Frost Giants and their titles goes amiss with Hadrian, as he is unfamiliar with either species. “The target tonight is the Cathedral of the Divine Three,” He lifts his shot up now, and downs it, before placing the glass upside down on the nearest tabletop. “There are Priests there, Priests that use Holy Magic—does this present a problem for you, Dudd?” He asks in earnest, unwanting of an ally that is fretted by even the mention of Holy Magic. “And by the way, the names Hadrian. I have a few fancy titles, but for your sake I will spare you of them. I prefer them to swirl only upon the lips and tongues of my enemies anyways.” He says with a meaning full look that harbors more than words could touch—the simple cautionary reminder to not cross him tonight. An alliance with a friend is a difficulty to maintain, an alliance with a stranger… far more so.
Dudd shrugs, his heavy limbs rising, and falling, "Priest bones break easy. Dudd was never touched by dark gods. Magic won't hurt me any more than it will hurt you. Priests run away like children when their cathedral's roof is half smashed in. Dudd will wreck their place of hiding and make them come out to fight. But they will not stand long and they won't get back up again. I can move out when you say to. Dudd is ready to fight and smash. Giants were used in wars long ago instead of them sling shots with wheels. Whatever they are called. If you want the cathedral to fall, Dudd can make it fall, all of it." He pats the hammer strapped to his back, which is larger than even the tallest of men.
Hadrian eyes the Giant for a few moments, until a half-smile pulls across his lips, “Aye, then I would like for you to accompany me there, if you will brother.” Hadrian turns now and says, “Blackbloods!” In a voice unquestionably authoritive, “We move out now!” With that, a group of fifteen Humans and Orcs--a steady increase from a few nights before--rise from their sporadic locations within the tavern, and follow in suit. A few coins are tossed to Grargh, accompanied by a nod of his head. Hadrian makes quick work of exiting the Grog Shop, not even to glance back once to indicate for the Giant to follow.
Later that night…
- Location: Cathedral of the Divine Three
Hadrian’s mind wanders as he walks through the near emptied streets of Cenril. His thoughts shift to Asailu, whom he had met earlier this day; the epitome of enigma to him. He couldn’t quite place his finger on her… like quicksilver she was! He knew he had to see her again, and yet he found himself oddly questionable to that desire. Perhaps she was a Witch. Just then, his eyes fall upon the massive darkened building that serves as Cenril’s Grand Cathedral. Hell, even from the outside the building spoke of its ominous foreboding from within! Hadrian began to think back to what Dudd said. He had offered to smash this building to pieces! An offer that he just couldn’t refuse—his qualms with the gods go beyond any punishment such an act might invoke. “This is the place, Dudd.” He says without having to look back, the massive thundering steps his comrade took response enough. “I don’t like how small that doorway is, could you oblige?” He turns now, to peer up to the massive monstrosity near him. The Blackbloods all form a semi-circle around Hadrian, weapons drawn and embraced with a crude efficiency—it seems Hadrian hadn’t trained them any more than they were the last raid they went on.
Dudd is already charging the massive construct the moment that Hadrian's orders were issued. Thunderous footfalls herald the impending terror that cannot be stopped. A roaring war cry, something about the corpse of someone's dead mother, tears from Dudd's gaping maw as his spiked hammer collides with the wide doors of the sacred church. The priests cry out in terror, some losing their religion for a moment, as the doors explode towards the inside, no doubt maiming, or killing, anyone who had been near them. The giant laughs like a child at play as he heaves the hammer behind him again, bring it down on the walls. The cathedral's destruction has begun.
Hadrian lifts a singular hand, indicating the Blackbloods to move in and ransack the place—it mattered not if some were killed by the blunderings of the monstrosity overhead. Hadrian found them as expendable as candy—there is always more people to commit to the cause of bringing down heathen gods, and in so doing line their own pockets. The fury of the Warrior is directed skyward, as he glares up to the thunderhead brewing above them. “Again, this falls at your feet.” He mumbles aloud to the gods, as his hands snake around his sides to draw free twin Gladi’. He clashes the two brother swords together, bellowing his own ferocious roar, before sprinting forwards to make war with the clergy men yonder. Dudd is skirted, wary of things crashing down around him, as he bounds in through the gaping maw of the Cathedral. A few Priests bodies lie littered about already, some of his own men among the ranks of the fallen. This has already begun to spin drastically out of all hope of control. Hadrian pushes that thought form his mind, and descends upon one of the Priests preoccupied by the thieving hands of an Orc Raider. Coldly, efficiently, Hadrian dispatches the man by hacking into the inside of his thigh with Bloodletter, then battering him with a hunkered down shoulder—studded pauldron to crush his nose and send him reeling, to bleed upon the marbled floor of the Cathedral until dead. He flicks Bloodletter, removing all the coagulated blood, and then sheathes it. As quickly as he can, he begins collecting anything of value within the Temple before it falls down around his ears!
Dudd has no such finesse. The wielding of his blunt weapon is pure carnage and brute force! Repeated blows to the outer walls of the holy cathedral render every struck section to dented, crumbling architecture. Dudd's laughter is maniacal now. He never had any problems with the gods themselves but neither does he harbor love for them. The giant grins and takes a few steps backward, readying himself for another charge, and sprints towards the building again, leaping with all of his might onto a part of the roof, bringing pillar, marble, brick, and stone down. The roof caves in violently, prayers of preservation ringing from the decimated clergy. Sacred altars are rendered violated and the blood of men and the first ruins of their erected house of worship decorate them. Until the giant's foot crushes said altar as Dudd starts to literally climb into the cathedral. But the monster doesn't fit, "Dudd is a bit crowded! Too much clutter!" The devastation continues.
Hadrian leaps to the side as a massive chunk of the rafters falls down, narrowly missing him—he would have assuredly been crushed beneath it. Stray shrapnel went flying all about, cutting him here and there; he didn’t have the grace to dodge it all! And then… the Warrior is sent careening into the benches haphazardly strewn about now, landing with a sickening thunk. His breath is forced from his lungs, and he lies there, gasping and hacking for air, all the while wondering what had hammered into him. A Priest adorned in remarkably crafted robes stands near the alter Dudd is ‘pracning’ upon. Hadrain shakes his head, trying to loosen the hold of blackness looming up within his vision, fighting to remain conscious. Unsteadily, he rises to his feet, Widowmaker used as a crutch to boost him up. He coughs up blood, the red liquid oozing down his chin and splattering upon the marbled floor. “Ah, someone with a bit of skill,” He manages through a few more hacking coughs—something is broken—all the while struggling to make headway towards him, “I was beginning to wonder if one of you would show your face tonight.” Hadrian draws a deep breath, resisting the urge to grimace with pain. Finally trudging within striking distance of the man, Hadrian lifts his Gladius, and swings, intent on separating the brazen worshipers head from his body. Again, Hadrian is hit with a concussion of Holy Magic. His skin burns with hot wrath! He drops to his knees beneath the holy reckoning, if only to rise again as the pain subsides. The few remaining Blackbloods can be seen now, fleeing from the ruined Cathedral with a vast assortment of gold and silver objects. “Cowards!” He hollers to them, knowing full well he probably wouldn’t see another one of their faces again. The pain of the holy magic is nearing an intolerable level, and Hadrian is forced to backpedal from the Priest, placing the Giant betwixt the pair so as to regain a bit of his vigor.
Dudd doesn't notice the Priest yet as his hammer is brought beneath him and to the front. Now it is held some feet beneath the roof -inside- of the cathedral. The giant lifts with all of his strength, crashing through the top, shattering another section of roof. More debris falls but fails to harm the powerful priest below. It remains to be seen if the Archbishop will attack Dudd. What exactly would happen if a twenty three foot tall giant were to fall down on top of the cathedral in pain?
Hadrian coughs some more, then spits intentionally upon the sacred floor. Standing below Dudd as he is the falling canopy of stone and metal is completely ignored. The Priest on the opposite side of him is regarded with a cool, wicked glare, “When I am through with you, I will stick your head on a pike in the front yard of this damnable church!” Hadrian springs into action, charging the Priest with unshackled fury, all the while the entrance hall falling down around him. A torrent of light is sent at the Warrior, who is quick enough to dive to the side, if only to continue his charge. Widowmaker whistles through the air as it descends—blood, bone, and viscera splay out all over the floor as the Gladius crushes into the Priests abdomen with a resounding clunk! Heaving, Hadrian drops to a knee, grasping at his side. “Dudd, we’ve got to go…” He whispers not nearly loud enough, but anything more and it felt as if his chest would explode. The Warrior claims his grim price, severing the head of the Priest with a few gruesome strokes of his brand. “Dudd!” He exclaims, and then starts hacking violently, blood spewing out all the while. Hadrian rises from the ground, trudging towards the exit. Through all the terror, through all of the cries for help, Hadrian could nearly hear the footfalls of the Archbishop descending upon them… they had to get out, and get out now.
Dudd cries out in pain as one of the priests below sends a wave of light towards him! The giant backpedals and falls into the front of the cathedral, knocking down another section of wall, and collapses on the ground, gripping the burning skin on his chest. Fortunately it isn't actual fire and he doesn't have to run for the ocean. Dudd just barely catches Hadrian's call for retreat and rises to his feet slowly, catching a glance around the carnage. In their wake at least one fourth of the cathedral lies in ruin. Mostly sections of wall and roof. The altar of the Three is utterly destroyed as well. The others in their gang have fled with their prizes and the paladins are readying their charge. The Cenril guard is no doubt on their way as well, "Then let's get the Hell out of here! Dudd wants to live to smash again! You got what you came for? Them small-ums got their weapons ready on us!" He glances around for the best route of escape, readying himself for the battle that will indeed be their escape.
Hadrian drops the severed head of the Priest, as he moves to block the incoming swing of a Paladin’s sword in holy retribution. The concussion of the two metals as they twang together bring Hadrian to a knee again—far too much for his beaten body to take. The Paladin is shrugged off, as he stumbles past, gaining a few feet more in the direction of their exit, “Dudd, go! Don’t wait for me!” He bellows, crying out in pain as another Paladin descends upon him with a club; the crunch of ribs a surefire sign of even more broken bones. Stubbornness prevails, and Hadrian drives Widowmaker into the zealots shoulder, clearing his path once again. The clink-clanking of soldiers entering the vicinity goes amiss on Hadrian’s deafened ears, far too concentrated on maintaining an upright, walking position. And then... finally, the man is put down by a cacophonous concussion--as if the hand of a god reached down and laid hands upon Hadrian himself; the reckoning of a true worshiper of the gods. The last thing he sees is a vague image of a man in robes, and Paladin’s descending upon him.
Dudd doesn't hesitate. He doesn't watch Hadrian get beaten down. The giant might not be the sharpest knife in the kitchen but he knows that there is no hope of defeating the entire clergy. Dudd turns heel and grits his teeth, taking off into a sprint, at least as much of a sprint as a giant could manage. Like a soldier in an obstacle course, the massive creature makes his way over buildings, doing his best not to be struck by the arrows sent his way by rallied guards. Like bee stings, the arrows prick his flesh, drawing small drizzles of blood. But they will heal as any wound. Several buildings are damaged but most of the populace manages to dive out of Dudd's way. He crashes through the barricades and doesn't stop running until he reaches Gualon. His father Thudd will be quite proud.