ITT: ''WE ARE THE SOVIET TECHNOCRATS VS NAZI OCCULT EMPIRE''

-Still swinging away-

-still running, peering at the purty vortex in the mountainside-

Curious. Why Would The Alves' Magicks Be Doing That?

-The power reaches a crux; the battlefield becomes silent for five seconds, save for the clattering of Sleipnir's hooves. Then a torrent of raw fae energy blasts out, carving a massive glassed trench in the plain-

edited 12th Jun '10 10:10:24 AM by Colonial1.1

Oh, Dear.

-returns to his original size and leaps, just barely avoiding the beam-

Correct Me If I Am Wrong, Czernobog, But Does Your Champion Find It Uncomfortably Warm Or Is that Just Me?

-notices that his tail is on fire-

...Ah.

Medic: Holy!

Interesting...

-Sleipnir reaches the airship. Koschei catapults himself skywards, crashing amidships and crushing the unlucky elves underneath.-

-Sleipnir roars and begins to batter the airship with its enormous hooves. Gouts of flame jet from its nostrils, incinerating any elves unfortunate enough to be in their cone of effect, and intense electrical shocks rattle the ship with every plate-buckling hammerblow of its hooves-

Shall We See Who Can Dispatch The Most Alves, Undying One?

The Captain-Smiles airily-: I don't think so.

-the fae's hands glow white, followed by him clapping them together with thunderous force, Koschei being propelled outward as if by a typhoon; The cannon's control primes with a menacing whine-

-Jamming two daggers into the deck, Koschei slides the length of the deck, leaving twin furrows. Getting up, he hurls the daggers into approaching crewmen and unclips his giant sword from his back. Staring directly at the captain, he grabs an elf by the neck, pushes its head back at far too great an angle with his thumb and launches the corpse at him.-

-The Captain slices away his subordinate with a sweeping gesture; He then summons a claymore encrusted in runic paint- The Captain: Know any folk dances, Rus? If not, I'll make you dance anyway.

-Sleipnir shrinks down until he is once more in scale with Koschei and runs rampant across the deck, blasting those elves that don't fall beneath his mighty feet-

I Will Interpret Your Silence As A Yes. I'll Start With This One.-

-seizes an elve by the scruff of his neck with its teeth and flings him off the ship-

One! I Cannot Dance, Alf, For I Have Four Left Feet. I Do Know Many Ballads And Howdowns, However.

edited 12th Jun '10 10:39:49 AM by SullenFrog

(Okay, let's say two from the daggers and one thrown, because the mass killings'll get confusing. Or do we assume the same amount dead for each unspecified kill, like five from landing? Also, are these the Fair Folk tiny elves, or Tolkien tall elves?)

-Charging towards captain, sword beginning to glow-

(You want a dance?

edited 12th Jun '10 10:49:08 AM by Chabal2

[{ Think Tolkien, but with power levels nearly at those of myth}}

-The Captain smiles coldly, a rounded shield materializing around his hand, going into an ancient stance-

The Captain: Well then, the floor is set, the orchestra is at play... -a phantom orchestra springs to life; eyes narrow- Let's dance. -springs forward-

-Drives BFS into deck, sending a cloud of dust, sparks and splinters into the air, then goes with the swing for a horizontal Spin Attack-

(This is a wooden ship, right?)

[{Wood and steel.}]

wood and steel, you say? And since Koschei's in a duel, maybe this kill contest should wait.

And Now I Shall Avenge The Grievance You Have Done My Tail!

-Sleipnir rears up and unleashes a massive blast of blue flame, burning timbers, frying elves and seering the steel deck plates to incandescent levels-

edited 12th Jun '10 1:59:38 PM by SullenFrog

-teleports on-scene in Soviet-red clothing- A bit overkill, don't you think comrades?

Brigadier Aleksandr-turns around in his chair, alarmed-: Are you from the Politburo?

-smirks- That depends...are you with them? Or against them?

-Stands, salutes- B.A.: Of course I am. I have always been a loyal member of the Party. What brings you here from Moscow?

edited 12th Jun '10 8:51:34 PM by Colonial1.1

Promise of reward. I'm here to take out a certain Nazi official, only he seems to have escaped the range of my tracker. I'm not sure you've heard of Yorik von Eavle?

B.A.: I can't say that I have, comrade. What atrocities is he responsible for? You do realize the truce has been in effect for ten hours?

He's a criminal of war. And this hit is far outside the reach of that truce. -looks to the fighting- Though from the look of things that truce seems to be relatively useless at preserving peace here.

edited 12th Jun '10 9:00:26 PM by Keybreak

Brigadier Aleksandr: Bah, as long as the immortals keep this fight to themselves, this is fine. Where is this bastard fascist.

I don't know. It's like I said: he escaped my range.

I suspect west though. Back to the safety of his mansion probably. The coward...

B.A.: What do you suppose should be done? Someone needs to keep watch over those freaks..