Hello, this is my first roleplay type thang, feel free to join and what not. Back ground is a standard one really! you are trapped in a small building as the rain lashes down, assaulted by enemies. You've just got to survive the night. As a side note, i come from a warhammery background so i dont really know whats ok and whats not technology wise. "Dam, dam and dam again!" he cried out, the words bouncing of the stony walls. Leaning with his back against the wall, Helgrim pendered his situation. "Well, well Pedro, looks like we've gone and done it this time. Yet another fine mess we're in! Cold, hungry, tired and my shot is as wet as my backside!" the ferret looked at him blankly, uncomprehending. Standing up and stretching his aching limbs, Helgrim loosing his Rapier and Main gauche in their scabbards, adjusted his cape (now tattered and torn) and surveyed, for what was the foreseeable future, his comrades in arms. "so few against so many" he sighed as he let his gaze linger over his allies..............

Water dripped off every part of Kale. His chain shirt showed the effects of the recent events that brought him to this small dwelling. His half orc features showed fatiuge. Blood caked his head from a couple of small wounds in his scalp. "Lovely." he growled. Anger hung in his voice. The rain and wind had almost cleaned the blood and gore off of the great orc scimitar he held at the ready. "What curse has befallen us now? "Kale gritted his teeth. A flash of lightning lit up the imeedate area exsposing only briefly the reason they were on the run. "Ah! Here they come!" Kale screamed...

From out of the shadows comes a dark figure bearing dark answers. "You are here because the great changer wills it. Do you hear the wind howling? Cries of his brilliance. Do you see the storm bristling with lightning? Symbols of His power," the figure begins, drifting from the back corner of the building atop a hellish disc of daemonic origin "I, am Forge Fatewhisper, a Magus of Tzeentch, the changer of ways and schemer of all that is." Clad in a dark blue robe with metallic occulum pinned into it, he stands upon the disc as though it were an extension of his feet. In his right hand is a great metal stave, adorned with a shifting blue eye, restlessly taking in its surroundings. The staff, pointed sharply at its base, rests on the edge of the disc. He is bald, and an eight pointed scar has been carved around his left eye in such a way that the eye itself has not been harmed, but the skin around flayed so badly that they eye can never close. Upon closer inspection, it becomes apparent that the eye is glowing with a faint indigo light, and staring directly into it invites pain and fear. Forge stands astride his disc, judging the other residents of the small space. Seemingly content to wait for someone else to act, it is beyond any mortal mind what machinations he may be setting into motion.

The sound of thunder mixed with steel clashing, and men grunting. Rain washed the smells of blood, feces, sweat and leather from the small hovel that was being defended by a few strangers. " By the Nine Hells who stirred this nest of vipers up?" Kale yelled while he severed an arm that was trying to force it's way through a window. The great scimitar he held was already covered with gore. Lightining flashed again and for a brief moment an ocean of creatures was revealed to the small group that resided in the building. Someone had awakened a great many creatures and the creatures were angry. " COME AND DIE DOGS!" Kale screamed through his half orc teeth. His sword swung again and another scream entered the night.