Mithril Golem ...

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Zang
Posts: 11
Joined: Sun Aug 16, 2015 2:57 pm
Guild: Warriors

Mithril Golem ...

Post by Zang »

His black robes bloodied and torn, hangin around his waist and dragging the ground behind him. His handcrafted white bone mask split in half,right down the middle, it now hands around his neck. Cracked and broken like a cracked egg dangling around his neck from its black leather ties. With both of his wings broken he walks with strength as he legs churn through the snow and slush. Both of his arms heaving a long chain over his right shoulder. He's dragging what used to be his Modified War Chariot, The Flying War Moth! The outer bone armoring shattered on the right side. All the wheels are missing, and the levers at the helm are broken too. With the resilience of an angry child the old wounded Mythmon Sprite pushes forward. He raises his head, his eyes are filled with RAGE.Those who know the man, know that he is patient and tactful. Anger is not usually his first emotion. Always using quick wit, a level head and tactical planning as much as his weapons and magic.Zangorathis has never looked as he does right now. Then again he has never faced the likes of a Mithril Golem before. As he crests the snowy hill, broken war chariot in tow, he exhales. Wheezing and spitting blood, he draws in a deep painful breath. His torn and bloody tattooed body almost seizing as has he belts out.


"In your name and and only your name my Lord Zir!!!
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"I will return to my workshop and forge. I will heal and I will return!"


That night in the most miniscule of workshops tucked away in the mountains behind Wintertown. Fumbling his way into the his workshop and forge the tiny Mythmon Sprite tends to his near fatal wounds. He first finds his trusted pouch that holds his back up Mar'Larane. Rubbing the paste-like substance all over his wounds.His head pounding no spells would come to his call this night. With not even a drop over energy remaining he passes out. Right there on the forge floors. The cold ground floor somehow comforting to his tiny wounded frame. As he sleeps he tosses and turns as his dreams turn to nightmares visions of spell casting golems and a giant Mithril golem, the Mithril golem having the most demonic looking face. Zangorathis awakes abruptly ending the nightmare, just before his inevitable death. Shocked, but not from the dream, from the warmth of his workshop. Someone had lit his forge! But who? With the his typical quickness, Tiny Zang shoots to the husk that was once his Chariot. He digs and sorts through the wreckage until he finds his Dented Mithril Toolbox. Quickly opening it he removes his tiny hammer, and quickly grabs up some dragon bone he has laying around and begins to hammer. Softly he begins to speak. Zir Zir Zir!! He continues chanting until he develops a smooth the perfect cadence to match the ringing of the hammer on anvil. Ah the sweet music of hammer on anvil. With The Flying War Moth to rebuild, gear and armor to repair. The Warrior Sprite has much work before him.



"Stupid Mithril Golem destroyed my Chariot. Broken my mask and my WINGS!

I can't even hit it. How is it so much faster than me?

Must get faster

Have to get stronger

Plan more.

I can do this!"



After days of healing and preparations the black winged warrior-sprite Zangorathis begins his return journey. Stopping to see a druid known to him for blessings in the Devardec Glade, he relaxes a moment. Knowing his next move is to his Lord Zir's fabled hidden tent. Then to see a friendly enchanter to get the best protective spells known to him. With all the tools gathered in the days of work at his forge and workshop, Zang makes his way to see the Mithril Golem again. This time the battle goes quickly and smooth. The Sprite using his speed and wit to win the day against the swarm. Leaving just him and the demonic looking Mithril Golem. He darts in and out taking swing after swing, charge after charge, missing over and over. Each angle the Mithril Golem seemingly almost ahead of him. Zang aborts and quickly heals himself with a series of minor healing spells. Calling to Lord Zir.


"I hear your call my Lord! "
With that the tiny sprite tucks his copy of the book of Zir and his collection of stories and maps deep into his backpack. As he steadies himself for one more go with the the Mithril Golem. Charging in on his now repaired War Chariot, the Flying War Moth.The two dance back and forth neither able to hit the other for minutes, hours. Zang flying up and down darting left and right, cutting his axe at impossible angles, hoping to land a single hit. Then finally bam, the golem slams the sprite against the wall. Pummelling the sprite,cracking his ribs and bloodying his nose. His mind steady, patient and anticipating that this may happen. The sprite quickly produces some Mar'Larane and heals all his wounds with the snap of his fingers and a prayer to his Lord Zir.
"In your name and only your name Lord Zir!"
Uttering a magical phrase that is no secret to creatures of Sylvan heritage. Zangorathis slips into the shadows and draws his blessed warhammer. Leaping from the shadows he lands a single hit. His heart fills with the thrill of victory. Then the worst happens, the Golem stomps on the tiny sprite. Splattering his body to nothingness. As a swatter to a fly, a boot on a cockroach, the sprite warrior was OBLITERATED.

Blinking he awakes on the Plane of Rebirth before Naria. Nodding to her as he paces, "thank you." Zangorathis makes his way to the Glade outside of Devardec. Hopping to quickly work and repair his War Chariot. He stops to heal himself, and is filled with a powerful magic of healing. "Blessings for Visiting Naria" The unworldly voice speaks. Powerful spells of enhancement wash over Zangorathis. He is thankful and begs the spirit to thank Naria."
Thinking to himself. "Now I can go and claim this glory for my Lord Zir!"

With a haste only familiar to quicklings, sprites and the passing of time to an old man. Zangorathis gathers the tools needed for third return venture. This is going to be the one. This is the one he foretold Servius about. The tiniest of warriors going to claim the Glory for Lord Zir! Quickly as if the cavern where the golems are held were a second home to him, Zangorathis makes his way to the swarm again. Black Bone Spectre in hand to protect himself he charges in, quickly switching to his Mithril War Axe. He swings once misses swings twice misses and bam bam bam STUNNED by the Spellcasting Runic Golem. Within seconds he was awakening on the plane of Rebirth and trying to figure out what happened... Having made his way and repeated this cycle on three different days. The Warrior chooses to return home for more training.

The next night He makes his way back to his hidden workshop outside of Wintertown. He makes his way to his makeshift desk that is on the opposite side of the forge. Sitting down he begins to pen a letter....




Unto the Legion,

Do not give up on me Legion. I may be the tiniest person most of you have met, but I am not small. I am a giant and I will not suffer loss versus this Mithril Tin Can forever. I will face him after each training session until I defeat him. If one of these losses is my final one, know that For the Glory of Zir, For the Temple of Zir. I have lived. Do not count me out because of my size and please do not give up on me. No pity, I will complete this task!


Zangorathis


He takes his letter to a familiar contact in Wintertown." Please have this taken to Recruit Thomas, he should be posted near the Huge Crack outside Devardec. Tom is a lithe ginger fellow with bloodlust in his eyes. You cant miss him. Have your courier remind him to continue his team's search."






In his name! And only his name!






ZIR ZIR ZIR
User avatar
Zang
Posts: 11
Joined: Sun Aug 16, 2015 2:57 pm
Guild: Warriors

Re: Mithril Golem ...

Post by Zang »

The days and nights go by in the blink of an eye as the Mythmon Warrior labors and trains. Uncounted hours tolling up in his private workshop and forge. Making preparations for the coming BATTLES with the Mithril golem and his rag tag gang of golems. The last time he was here, the Demonic Looking Golem squashed Zangorathis like a bug and sent his spirit to the Plane of Rebirth. It was a gruesome sight, to say the least. The Warrior could not leave here in that condition this time. Zangorathis, or Big Zang to his friends, checks over his new inventory list to make sure he has everything in order. Seeing that he has duplicates of almost everything he needs to make it to the Golems, he sets out to ride to the Crystal caves where the Mithril Golem hides.


Quickly through the Crystal Caves as if it was his home, or at least a second home. Getting ready for his routine to take out the swarm and then fight the Mithril Golem ONE on ONE, Zangorathis prays to Lord Zir.

In your name Lord Zir


Glory unto thee!!!

The Sprite swoops and dips, dives and turns, twisting circles around the amazingly quick hunk-o-junk golem. The Mithril golem never relenting its attacks at the pest. Stomping and slamming, unleashing slowing spells and throwing pure mass around as a weapon. His natural speed and agility are seeming to win the day for him. Zangorathis the frowns, it hits him, he still has no even stuck the Mithril Golem once. They had been standing there missing each other for minutes on end. Truly diligent he continues the same dance with the Mithril Golem, knowing one time, one day, one blow would land. And that one blow could change everything.


"This is the same as was the night before, I must go back to my forge, work and train. Soon I will return to here. Soon I will claim this Bucket of Bolts in the name of LORD ZIR! "

Zangorathis packs his things and heads back to Wintertown, to his private workshop and forge, from there he will continue to train and continue to follow the Call.

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