[ooc]
I'll just go on, you can react as you wish, even interrupt and backpedal if you are so inclined.
The riders finished their approach with a tight flourish, every rider bringing his mount about to a hover sideways in a near perfect semicircle 20 feet away from the group, lances pointint to the sky. From up close, their appearance was no less intimidating than when in fast flight. Jet black articulated plate armour covered every rider completely from head to toe, their face-plates were down. Each bore a lance, a shield adorned with the same crest as the flag, and from their hips hung various hand-to-hand weapons. The leader himself was even scarier: A horned helmet with an articulate face mask sat on his head, and from a bulge on his back a seond pair of arms angled forward. Two hands were on the lance, one held his cavalry shield, and the last one hung relaxed on his leg. Each rider maintained an impassive stare at the group.
Their mounts had long lost any semblance of life: Huge skeletal steeds, every bone as black as coal, smoke pouring from empty nostrils and from their hooves as they stood in mid air. Blackened chain barding hung from their fronts and sides. Both steed and rider acted with perfect precision and discipline, standing like statues, eerily silent in this confrontation, where first words had not yet been spoken.
A gust of wind brought a whiff or putrefaction - not strong, but definitely noticable.
Auras:
25,
17,
18,
17,
21,
18,
17,
16,
15,
16,
16
The leader finally shifted his gaze towards the fat priest who cowered shaking behind a far too small rock, gripping his morning star so tight his knuckles showed white through his sunburn.
'Are you Devanar, Priest of Lundeth?', the leader said with a voice that was deep and rough, but also muted and somewhat metally by the mask covering his face.
Devanar got up from his cowering position, reluctantly, and let the weapon hang loosely.
'I am Devanar', he said with a fatalistic air. 'Who wants to know?' The words were defiant, his voice was not.
A gravelly chuckle drifted from the masked head.
'My name is best forgotten, it would not serve you well to know it. I am Captain of First Squadron, 1st. Battallion Air Cavalry of the Army of the Realm of the Mountain, in the service of Sirilon of the Mountain, Thirteenth Councilman of Ladydove, Protector of the Borderlands, Lord of the Realm of the Mountain, Champion of Wee Jas, Upholder of Law, Balance and Order, and enemy of Chaos until final destruction', he droned flatly, losing almost all emphasis after naming his own title.
'My request, if you are so inclined, is one of aid in destruction of the enemy, yonder demon encampment. The demons are massing forces, and even though there is an army on the way to stop them, we fear they may be too late. Once the demons start teleporting the army will never be able to follow, and they
will teleport to attack once their numbers are high enough. We don't know their target, because a lot of demons don't even know it, yet, and we could not risk abducting a commander for questioning at this time. As you may or may not know, Demons cannot natively cross the planes - they need help or study sorcery like the rest of us, and those who can are rare. To overcome this problem they will want to set up a permanent portal through which they can just waltz through. At present, this is what they have over there in the desert. And that means that with every minute that passes more demons will get through. The portal must be destroyed. I need your help and the help of your compatriots to do that.'
Devanar suddenly felt very useless.'MY help? Surely you are joking...'
