Gods Under the Bleeding Sun - Part one.
 

OKies, here is where we'll do the actual roleplaying, then. (If you wish to join, and don't know where to go, go here:
http://www.nuklearforums.com/showthread.php?t=2244)
Griswoldo:
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My keen eyes trailed over a small encampment of human soldeirs who had just completed a raid on an elven village. Most of the humans were drunk, and as such, their senses were bogged down. this would be almost too easy. I grinned slyly, ans waited for my chance to strike against them. They would pay for taking innocent lives.

Ogrem laid just over the hill watching the encampment of soldiers. The air was full of their foul scent, but there was another with in the smell. It was not dragon, and yet not exactly Draco. It was more or less a mix of the two. It didn't matter though the humans were of Ogrem's top priority. He would make them pay for the attacks against all orcs and even though he didn't like the elves they were better than Humans. He grunted softly to his second in command who scampered of to his left and down the hill to let the horde of Orcs behind him know that they were to prepare.

Nasarion walked in the direction of the camp and stopped for a second, deciding whether he should go around it or not. He chose to go right through it, not caring the pathetic men would think if he got close. He walked at a normal speed toward the camp, preparing for battle in his head. He could feel his hand twitching, waiting to grab his halberd, which was specially made for him. It was completely made of a mysterious metal that was stronger than tempered steel, but lighter than it seemed. His clothes were blowing in the wind, showing his form somewhat. That didn't matter to him though, seeing as how spikes and a tail were obvious enough.

Ikubane stood unmoving as the human soldiers milled around him, searching for plunder among the burnt elven hovels. Minute ice crystals poured from his breath, melting almost instantly in the cloying heat. He was in full battle dress, crudely fashioned steel armor covering his few areas not covered in a scaly carapace, such as his neck, arms, and legs. Very little was on his back, so his wings were unrestricted should he need to take to the air. His tail, fitted with a steel spike and hook, lashed impatiently against the charred ground.

He was unconcerned with treasure; he had only joined this pathetic band of flesh bags because the pay was good and the enemies were sufficiently strong. He idly considered skewering some of his 'comrades' who were rummaging through a nearby wagon, and seeing how many humans he could kill before the others ran for the hill with their ill-gotten gain. His claws clicked together in anticipation of blood, but he eventually decided against it. The elves had shown surprising resistance, and much of his magic was already depleted.

He strode as far away from what was left of the city as possible, his clawed feet pitting the earth beneath him as he walked. He would prefer to get away from the fire as possible. He found a large rock on a small hilltop overlooking the city and planted one taloned foot upon it, gazing down at the scurrying ants below.

Socrates was running along the field. He loved running through tall grass. That's when he smelled smoke.

"Cap'n, do we have another mission yet? I'm bored." Quinton's voice sounded out in the still silence.
"No, not yet. We still have to finish our mission here," replied Brian.
"But, Cap'n it's so boring! Besides, this gives me the willies."
"I know, but it's our duty." Brian looked around at the barren wasteland of dead bodies. War. War everwhere. Almost nowhere you could go without war nowadays.
"Sir, I don't think there is any survivors," shouted Trent from about 20 feet away. "Can't see any from here."
"Ya, we've checked the whole battlefield, no sign of life," said Garret.
"Do you think we should keep looking?" asked Brian.
"Well, Cap'n, there might be someone still alive, but this is really boring and all, so I wanna just go-"
"That settles it then. We keep on looking."

My eyes flittered around the area again, making sure it was safe, before I plunged into action. I had bene lucky enough to catch a human sent out to colllect firewood, and I had killed him. When the humans were laughing, and joking, I threw the corpse into the fire, causing sraks to spray up, ino the air. The men stood up, startled. I took my chance then. I lept a good 3 metres into the air, and slashed my claws at a human throat, ripping it to shreds. I landed amoungst th erest of the humans, who were scared stiff.

"Hello, nice night to die, eh?" I grinned.

Ikubane spotted the troop of ogres from the higher vantage point, and growled in his throat. Orcs, greedy, depraved bastards, every one of them. Never content with what was their own, always had to push in to the territory of others. No better than humans, and on top of that, they stank much worse. The taste of orc blood might be a welcome experience. He could never stand elf anyway, it was far too sweet for his tongue. He pushed off of the rock and into the air, gliding slowly, silently down, like an owl descending upon a blind mouse.

Nasarion noticed a riot was breaking out just as he walked into the borders of the camp. Blood was flying in the air and men were running from surprise. Some ran in his direction, some running past others regaining their composure and drawing their weapons. He slowly began to laugh as they circled him, thinking they could take him on. "Sorry to diappoint you, but I don't think you can leave alive if you want to fight me," he warned. They didn't listen. Then one charged him, instantly getting cleaved in half. "I warned you," he said as others began to charge him.

Ogrem slowly stood as he watched some one direct a battle upon the humans. He then whistled out telling his men to come up on the hill with him. They all stood over looking the town watching the fight going on. "We will wait until the battle is over and see if they're friend or foe" he said to his men.