Post by Draken on Mar 12, 2015 4:59:53 GMT
Name: Darrick Heath
Race: Caucasian
Age: 25 human years
Gender: Male
Occupation: Military/Templars
Rank: Ancient
Appearance:
Personality: Darrick is a devoted soldier, and a strong believer of faith. He believes in serving God, King, and Country before himself and is willing to sacrifice himself for either. When he's not risking his life however, he's a somewhat sociable guy, though he doesn't take jokes very well.
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Equipment:
1x Templar Shield
1x Set of Light Templar armor
1x Orcish Made blade (Very recently obtained)
Mounts/Guardians/Pets: A Thoroughbred horse that is used to travel, and occasionally for war.
NPCs:
Ancient Richard Hasting
Darrick can normally be seen butting heads with Richard. The two of them are arguably rivals, since it seems as though the two are always competing. The only thing that could rival Richard's Devotion to God, King, and Country, is his want to become a higher ranking and more prestigious templar than Darrick. Though Richard is an archer, which is considered dishonorable among most templars, though it seems that the generals don't think badly of it. Richard has black hair and brown eyes.
Biography:
Born in the 4th Age 75th year, to William Heath and Marilyn Hearth, Darrick was destined to become a fighter. His father was a footsoldier during the Lycan-Plague Hunts, a period in time which the templars were tasked with hunting down soldiers from the lost legion who were infected by the lycan plague. Darrick's father was assigned to the detachment that hunted The Lost General himself, eliminating a number of other lycans in the process. His mother was a cleric, who practice the healing arts. She would visit the homes of the ill and care for them, and do her best to administer care.
While Darrick was a young boy, he would accompany his mother to homes to assist for caring with the ill. His father was away in the hunt, causing him to be absent for weeks at a time, preventing him from helping with Darrick much. This caused Darrick to develop a caring nature towards other beings, and a disapproving opinion of those tradesmen who capture beasts and parade them around like as if they aren't a living thing. As he entered his early teens though, his father retired and returned home to his son and wife, which allowed him to teach Darrick the various things he had learned in his service in the templars. Most Importantly though, he learned his father's fighting style, which was taught to him by one of the Elite Templars who fell in the Lycan-Human war.
The style was design for sword and shield users, and relies heavily on the fighters dexterity. Darrick's father spent years teaching the technique to him, developed to fight enemies like the high elves, it was taught to the unit that took part in the sacking of Aegis. The commander and creator of this fighting technique fell in the sacking, his unit of four became vanguards to the lost general. These four then taught the form to their units, one of the men in these units, was Darrick's father. After the end of the Lycan-Human war, and the Lycan-Plague hunts, the tradition continued with Darrick. After years of practicing the fighting style, Darrick become proficient in it, displaying it during his trials at the age of 19.
The trials were held by the templars every year, to recruit the best warriors out of the populace of the kingdom into their ranks, and give them a chance to earn a place among the elite. Of the four vanguards who had accompanied the lost general, one survived, and was assigned to host the trials that year. Darrick dueled his way through the three day tournament, fighting warriors of all shapes and sizes, before finally making it to the final duels.
The finals were hosted in the evening, torchlight filled the stadium as the stars illuminated the sky alongside the moon. The arena was filled with spectators, as the vanguard stood in the main viewing booth. Located in the heart of the capital, the arena was only used for major events such as the trials. The last of the duelists, eight in total, battled it out for the two slots that would get these young boys into the templars. The Finals were a battle royal between the finalists, eight warriors thrust into one arena and told to fight. For what felt like hours the warriors fought, until only three remained standing. It was in this moment that Darrick's career as a templar truly began, for the other two fighters, in hopes of beating him, made a non verbal alliance.
In a final fight that lasted about eight minutes, Darrick used the style taught to him by his father to beat his opponents. The fight consisted of him redirecting their strikes into each other, using the momentum to bring his body into a full arc to strike at his foe. His body twisting and turning with his sword and shield in the process. The vanguard recognized the fighting style, and approached Darrick while he still stood in the arena with the other fighter. He grabbed him by the shoulder, and asked him who taught him how to fight like that.
"My father, William Heath, a templar as well."
The vanguard simply nodded, before walking away, another templar approached them. He raised both of their arms for the crowd, roars rang throughout the arena. "Come to the training grounds, tomorrow you are templars." The other champion was none other than his future partner and rival, Richard Hasting. They spent years in the training grounds, before they were sent with exploration teams to the eastern plains to fight orcs that were raiding settlements in the plains.
RolePlay Sample:
"Richard! Let an arrow fly!" He heard Alfonso yell, Darrick's own blade now sunken in the chest of the wounded orc. "Richar-" Alfonso's voice was cut off, an orcish blade had found it's way through his chest, killing him as the orc ripped it away. Alfonso's body hit the ground with to join the bodies of the three orcs he had slain. A seventh orc, in heavy scale like armor, stood above him.
The orc grinned as it stared at the new-blood, who had struck down the last of his orcs. "New-blood, watch yourself!" Darrick yelled as he ripped his own blade away from this orc. The new-blood turned, but was unprepared for what he saw. "Stand your ground new-blood, or you will die!"
Darrick lunged towards the orc, who simply parried his blade, sending Darrick rolling towards the edge of the grass. In one swoop, the Orc's blade came crashing across the new-blood's, breaking it in two. As Darrick stood back up, he watched the orc bring his blade back around, slicing through the new-blood's chest piece, and ripping apart his chest. Darrick smacked his shield and sword together, hoping to taunt him as he circled this orc. He was different from the others, he was smarter and stronger. He glanced at Richard, not finding him to be a threat, and stared down Darrick. A devilish grin sat upon the ugly monster's face.
Soon Darrick was standing between the orc and Richard though, both blades ready to claim the other's life. As the orc lifted his sword, Darrick prepared his shield, and got his legs ready. "Richard, when he charges you let your arrows fly, fire both of them, then run."
"What? Darrick your in-"
"Just do it Richard!" The anger flooded his voice, his eyes glaring at the orc. "This bastard's gonna pay for killing Alfonso, and the new-blood."
As if on Que, the orc started walking towards them, his blade at the ready. An arrow flew into his upper-chest piece, bouncing off his angled armor. The following arrow had the same effect, but revealed one flaw in the armor. It was scaled, which meant gaps between the plates, if Darrick could get his blade into one of those gaps, he could kill the bastard. The sound of Richard's feet smacking dirt was an indication that this had become a duel. Darrick's stance changed slightly, he had a plan, now he just needed to execute it.
The orc simply snorted at him, as it brought it's blade down in a cross horizontal sweep. Darrick stepped out of the way, using his shield to block the blow in the process, not wanting to risk breaking his sword like the new-blood's did against that blade. The orc kept swinging and Darrick kept moving, his shield taking a beating as each hit dented it more and more. Darrick took a few swings at the orc, each hit bounced off his armor like the arrow. Whatever metal it was made out of, was much stronger than the his blade.
Finally though the opening that he had been waiting for finally came. The orc made the mistake of bringing his blade down in a vertical arc, this was Darrick's chance to land the killing blow. He stepped forward with his left foot, and brought his shield up at an angle. The blade slide across the shield as he rotated his body and shifted his feet around, bring him inside the reach of the orc, and the right angle to launch his blade up between the armor plates. His left foot swinging around as his right leg shifted forward, His shield arm tucking in as the orc's blade passed by, and his blade coming in low for an upward stab. He carried as much momentum as possible into the strike, his blade sliding up between the plates, and impaling itself into it's chest.
The sound of a blade dropping filled the air, the orc stumbled backwards, his hand slowly falling on the pummel of the sword. They shook as he fell backwards, still breathing as the blade broke in two at the guard. Darrick turned and grabbed the orc's blade, the blood of his comrades on it, as he stepped over the orc. "May the gods spare your soul of Catalyst's wrath." He brought the orcish blade down upon his head. Darrick pulled the blade away, the look of it was strange, but he liked it. In the pummel alone it felt stronger than any human blade, and he had seen the strength of the actual blade itself. So he cut some leather off one of the dead orcs, created a strap for it, and swung it across his back. He spent the night giving Alfonso and the new-blood proper burials before returning to the port, Richard awaiting his return with another templar unit. With him he carried Alfonso's sword, shield, and a ring, all of which to be returned to his family back home in the kingdom.
Race: Caucasian
Age: 25 human years
Gender: Male
Occupation: Military/Templars
Rank: Ancient
Appearance:
Personality: Darrick is a devoted soldier, and a strong believer of faith. He believes in serving God, King, and Country before himself and is willing to sacrifice himself for either. When he's not risking his life however, he's a somewhat sociable guy, though he doesn't take jokes very well.
Strengths:
- Experienced
- Trained by a survivor of the Lycan-Plague Hunts, Darrick's father was a footsoldier that was a part of the Templar Section assigned to hunt down The Lost General and his infected Officers (aka Draken the Lycan General). He has also engaged in several skirmishes against Orcish War Parties in the Eastern planes.
- Developed
- At an age of 25, Darrick is a pretty well developed soldier now, his constitution and strength are near their peak as well as his quickness on his feet.
- Devotion
- Darrick is extremely devoted to his faith and the Templar's cause to serve God, King, and Country. He will not run or falter in battle.
Weaknesses:
- Thin Skinned
- Darrick doesn't handle jokes or insults very well, normally taking everything said to heart. This has caused some problems for him in the past with other soldiers, templars, and civilians. This issue could prove fatal on the battlefield.
- Brash
- Darrick is extremely aggressive, to a point that some people avoid him completely. It is rumored that he carries a shield just so he can bash it against the enemy, before slaying said enemy.
- Orcish Blade
- Darrick uses an Orcish blade instead of a normal longsword or mace. Though made of a stronger metal, it has altered his fighting style and created mixed feelings about him in the Templar community.
Equipment:
1x Templar Shield
1x Set of Light Templar armor
1x Orcish Made blade (Very recently obtained)
Mounts/Guardians/Pets: A Thoroughbred horse that is used to travel, and occasionally for war.
NPCs:
Ancient Richard Hasting
Darrick can normally be seen butting heads with Richard. The two of them are arguably rivals, since it seems as though the two are always competing. The only thing that could rival Richard's Devotion to God, King, and Country, is his want to become a higher ranking and more prestigious templar than Darrick. Though Richard is an archer, which is considered dishonorable among most templars, though it seems that the generals don't think badly of it. Richard has black hair and brown eyes.
Biography:
Born in the 4th Age 75th year, to William Heath and Marilyn Hearth, Darrick was destined to become a fighter. His father was a footsoldier during the Lycan-Plague Hunts, a period in time which the templars were tasked with hunting down soldiers from the lost legion who were infected by the lycan plague. Darrick's father was assigned to the detachment that hunted The Lost General himself, eliminating a number of other lycans in the process. His mother was a cleric, who practice the healing arts. She would visit the homes of the ill and care for them, and do her best to administer care.
While Darrick was a young boy, he would accompany his mother to homes to assist for caring with the ill. His father was away in the hunt, causing him to be absent for weeks at a time, preventing him from helping with Darrick much. This caused Darrick to develop a caring nature towards other beings, and a disapproving opinion of those tradesmen who capture beasts and parade them around like as if they aren't a living thing. As he entered his early teens though, his father retired and returned home to his son and wife, which allowed him to teach Darrick the various things he had learned in his service in the templars. Most Importantly though, he learned his father's fighting style, which was taught to him by one of the Elite Templars who fell in the Lycan-Human war.
The style was design for sword and shield users, and relies heavily on the fighters dexterity. Darrick's father spent years teaching the technique to him, developed to fight enemies like the high elves, it was taught to the unit that took part in the sacking of Aegis. The commander and creator of this fighting technique fell in the sacking, his unit of four became vanguards to the lost general. These four then taught the form to their units, one of the men in these units, was Darrick's father. After the end of the Lycan-Human war, and the Lycan-Plague hunts, the tradition continued with Darrick. After years of practicing the fighting style, Darrick become proficient in it, displaying it during his trials at the age of 19.
The trials were held by the templars every year, to recruit the best warriors out of the populace of the kingdom into their ranks, and give them a chance to earn a place among the elite. Of the four vanguards who had accompanied the lost general, one survived, and was assigned to host the trials that year. Darrick dueled his way through the three day tournament, fighting warriors of all shapes and sizes, before finally making it to the final duels.
The finals were hosted in the evening, torchlight filled the stadium as the stars illuminated the sky alongside the moon. The arena was filled with spectators, as the vanguard stood in the main viewing booth. Located in the heart of the capital, the arena was only used for major events such as the trials. The last of the duelists, eight in total, battled it out for the two slots that would get these young boys into the templars. The Finals were a battle royal between the finalists, eight warriors thrust into one arena and told to fight. For what felt like hours the warriors fought, until only three remained standing. It was in this moment that Darrick's career as a templar truly began, for the other two fighters, in hopes of beating him, made a non verbal alliance.
In a final fight that lasted about eight minutes, Darrick used the style taught to him by his father to beat his opponents. The fight consisted of him redirecting their strikes into each other, using the momentum to bring his body into a full arc to strike at his foe. His body twisting and turning with his sword and shield in the process. The vanguard recognized the fighting style, and approached Darrick while he still stood in the arena with the other fighter. He grabbed him by the shoulder, and asked him who taught him how to fight like that.
"My father, William Heath, a templar as well."
The vanguard simply nodded, before walking away, another templar approached them. He raised both of their arms for the crowd, roars rang throughout the arena. "Come to the training grounds, tomorrow you are templars." The other champion was none other than his future partner and rival, Richard Hasting. They spent years in the training grounds, before they were sent with exploration teams to the eastern plains to fight orcs that were raiding settlements in the plains.
RolePlay Sample:
Darrick Heath, Templar Ancient
Eastern Plains
4th Age, 99th Year, 7th Month, 13th Day
Looking for the hunters
He watched as the orc staggered slightly, before turning to face Darrick, his stance slightly altered to carry the weight on his right leg. Darrick simply ducked under the orcs attempt to slice him in half, rotating on his feet as he prepared a sweep across his chest with sword and shield. He simply watched as the orc staggered more, still not going down from the massive wound in his chest. Eastern Plains
4th Age, 99th Year, 7th Month, 13th Day
Looking for the hunters
The sun crept closer to the horizon, within the hour night would fall upon them. The group of templars waded through the tall grass, looking for signs of the hunting party that had been sent out the day before. The captain wanted to leave by nightfall to return to the kingdom by the time of the new age, but they couldn't make the trip yet unless they had more food in the stores. Resulting in a six man hunting party being sent out before dawn of the previous day. When they didn't return in the evening, the captain asked the templars to locate them, for he was afraid they had become victims to an orc raiding party.
So they set out before dawn, and followed the path the hunters used most often. After hours of searching down that path, the templars started to explore different areas that were used by the hunters for bigger, but more bountiful, prey. Darrick followed a few steps behind his Superior, a battle hardened veteran who had two years experience on all of them in the plains. While Richard brought up the rear with the new-blood, the boy did his best to keep pace with them, but struggled because of his claymore. Darrick never understood why someone would opt out for the bulkier two handed sword, but to each fighter their own. He glanced over Richard, wondering how long it would be before he practiced his skills with a blade again, He'd let them falter since the trials years ago. Instead he carried his bow, with about ten arrows in the quiver. A shame if you asked other templars, Richard could have been a skilled duelist.
A hand went up in the air, bringing all focus on their superior officer, "Hold, I hear something."
All sound ceased to exist for a few moments, before a rustle could be heard in the grass ahead of them. Instinctively Darrick loosened up, a trait developed from years of training with his father, and drew his sword. The metal of his broad sword cut away ever so slightly at the leather sheath, creating a leathery hiss that was barely audible. His breaths grew heavy, as he focused in on what might be on the other side. The rustling stopped for a second, before a storm from hell broke loose.
Orcs rushed out from the grass, their blades drawn and bloody from another kill, prepared to fight the templars. Darrick sidestepped with his back foot, sliding to the left of the first orc to charge him, his right foot planted behind him. He shifted his body weight around as that orc flew past him, bringing his sword around in a low-bearing, upward arc, that decapitated another orc that was charging the newblood. He finished the turn, facing him in the direction of the first orc again. He had tumbled slightly but recovered, and now faced Darrick as well.
A grin came across Darrick's face, the sound of crashing metal as his blade met shield filling the orc's ears, and insulting him at the same time. The orc charged him for a second time, this time though Darrick didn't move, he just stood up. With a simple nod, he sidestepped the charging body of mass, as an arrow pierced it's skull. A laugh from Richard was all the indication Darrick needed to know that he had hit his mark. Yet more orcs rushed out of the grass at them, their numbers unknown to the templars at this time.
The crashing of a blade against skull was accompanied by an order, "There is a clearing to our right, the hunters have noted it as a good resting place, we'll draw them into the open there, move quickly templars." The sounds of metal mingled with the order, but Darrick moved anyways, Alfonso knew what he was doing.
Unlike Alfonso and the new-blood, Darrick and Richard were wearing the lighter leather armor sets that the templars had in their armory. Allowing them to move quickly through the grass, and avoid or strike down any orcs in their way. Darrick rolled into the clearing as an orcish blade sliced across the air above him. Bring his shield to bear as the orc slashed again, his blade clashing with Darrick's shield. Darrick quickly brought his blade up into the orc's chest, ripping it away as he backed up.
Richard did some weird shoulder roll jump thing that Darrick had no understanding of, letting an arrow fly when his back hit the dirt, and pierced an orc's chest. The delay it had created was just long enough for the new blood to rush into the clearing, his blade impaled the orc from behind, and allowed him to recover. Just as Alfonso backed up into the arena, followed by six more orcs, though it seemed that was all that was left of their ranks.
"Let's finish them off and return to the port boys, we'll feast tonight after this victory." He called out, bashing away a blade with his shield as he joined in the formation.
"Richard, how many arrows you got left?" Darrick shifted over to the left, a larger orc was looking to move in on him, and Darrick had a feeling Richard would lose that fight.
"I got two left, missed a few shots on the run."
"Nice one you fool, you remember your daggers?"
"Of course, Alfonso would kill me himself if I didn't." A laugh escaped all their lips as the orcs moved closer in.
"You got that right, New-blood, get the right side." He stated, pushing the newblood towards the two smaller orcs, well Alfonso concentrated on the three in the front. "Time to dance lads, hope your partners don't bite." Darrick switched his lead leg, putting his blade hand in front of his shield. The orc proceeded to take this as a taunt, which was exactly what Darrick wanted. He brought his blade down towards him in a downward cross arc, which allowed Darrick to slide to his right. His left leg swinging around behind him again as he kissed the orc's leg with his blade, slicing the side and exposed back of the kneecap.
So they set out before dawn, and followed the path the hunters used most often. After hours of searching down that path, the templars started to explore different areas that were used by the hunters for bigger, but more bountiful, prey. Darrick followed a few steps behind his Superior, a battle hardened veteran who had two years experience on all of them in the plains. While Richard brought up the rear with the new-blood, the boy did his best to keep pace with them, but struggled because of his claymore. Darrick never understood why someone would opt out for the bulkier two handed sword, but to each fighter their own. He glanced over Richard, wondering how long it would be before he practiced his skills with a blade again, He'd let them falter since the trials years ago. Instead he carried his bow, with about ten arrows in the quiver. A shame if you asked other templars, Richard could have been a skilled duelist.
A hand went up in the air, bringing all focus on their superior officer, "Hold, I hear something."
All sound ceased to exist for a few moments, before a rustle could be heard in the grass ahead of them. Instinctively Darrick loosened up, a trait developed from years of training with his father, and drew his sword. The metal of his broad sword cut away ever so slightly at the leather sheath, creating a leathery hiss that was barely audible. His breaths grew heavy, as he focused in on what might be on the other side. The rustling stopped for a second, before a storm from hell broke loose.
Orcs rushed out from the grass, their blades drawn and bloody from another kill, prepared to fight the templars. Darrick sidestepped with his back foot, sliding to the left of the first orc to charge him, his right foot planted behind him. He shifted his body weight around as that orc flew past him, bringing his sword around in a low-bearing, upward arc, that decapitated another orc that was charging the newblood. He finished the turn, facing him in the direction of the first orc again. He had tumbled slightly but recovered, and now faced Darrick as well.
A grin came across Darrick's face, the sound of crashing metal as his blade met shield filling the orc's ears, and insulting him at the same time. The orc charged him for a second time, this time though Darrick didn't move, he just stood up. With a simple nod, he sidestepped the charging body of mass, as an arrow pierced it's skull. A laugh from Richard was all the indication Darrick needed to know that he had hit his mark. Yet more orcs rushed out of the grass at them, their numbers unknown to the templars at this time.
The crashing of a blade against skull was accompanied by an order, "There is a clearing to our right, the hunters have noted it as a good resting place, we'll draw them into the open there, move quickly templars." The sounds of metal mingled with the order, but Darrick moved anyways, Alfonso knew what he was doing.
Unlike Alfonso and the new-blood, Darrick and Richard were wearing the lighter leather armor sets that the templars had in their armory. Allowing them to move quickly through the grass, and avoid or strike down any orcs in their way. Darrick rolled into the clearing as an orcish blade sliced across the air above him. Bring his shield to bear as the orc slashed again, his blade clashing with Darrick's shield. Darrick quickly brought his blade up into the orc's chest, ripping it away as he backed up.
Richard did some weird shoulder roll jump thing that Darrick had no understanding of, letting an arrow fly when his back hit the dirt, and pierced an orc's chest. The delay it had created was just long enough for the new blood to rush into the clearing, his blade impaled the orc from behind, and allowed him to recover. Just as Alfonso backed up into the arena, followed by six more orcs, though it seemed that was all that was left of their ranks.
"Let's finish them off and return to the port boys, we'll feast tonight after this victory." He called out, bashing away a blade with his shield as he joined in the formation.
"Richard, how many arrows you got left?" Darrick shifted over to the left, a larger orc was looking to move in on him, and Darrick had a feeling Richard would lose that fight.
"I got two left, missed a few shots on the run."
"Nice one you fool, you remember your daggers?"
"Of course, Alfonso would kill me himself if I didn't." A laugh escaped all their lips as the orcs moved closer in.
"You got that right, New-blood, get the right side." He stated, pushing the newblood towards the two smaller orcs, well Alfonso concentrated on the three in the front. "Time to dance lads, hope your partners don't bite." Darrick switched his lead leg, putting his blade hand in front of his shield. The orc proceeded to take this as a taunt, which was exactly what Darrick wanted. He brought his blade down towards him in a downward cross arc, which allowed Darrick to slide to his right. His left leg swinging around behind him again as he kissed the orc's leg with his blade, slicing the side and exposed back of the kneecap.
"Richard! Let an arrow fly!" He heard Alfonso yell, Darrick's own blade now sunken in the chest of the wounded orc. "Richar-" Alfonso's voice was cut off, an orcish blade had found it's way through his chest, killing him as the orc ripped it away. Alfonso's body hit the ground with to join the bodies of the three orcs he had slain. A seventh orc, in heavy scale like armor, stood above him.
The orc grinned as it stared at the new-blood, who had struck down the last of his orcs. "New-blood, watch yourself!" Darrick yelled as he ripped his own blade away from this orc. The new-blood turned, but was unprepared for what he saw. "Stand your ground new-blood, or you will die!"
Darrick lunged towards the orc, who simply parried his blade, sending Darrick rolling towards the edge of the grass. In one swoop, the Orc's blade came crashing across the new-blood's, breaking it in two. As Darrick stood back up, he watched the orc bring his blade back around, slicing through the new-blood's chest piece, and ripping apart his chest. Darrick smacked his shield and sword together, hoping to taunt him as he circled this orc. He was different from the others, he was smarter and stronger. He glanced at Richard, not finding him to be a threat, and stared down Darrick. A devilish grin sat upon the ugly monster's face.
Soon Darrick was standing between the orc and Richard though, both blades ready to claim the other's life. As the orc lifted his sword, Darrick prepared his shield, and got his legs ready. "Richard, when he charges you let your arrows fly, fire both of them, then run."
"What? Darrick your in-"
"Just do it Richard!" The anger flooded his voice, his eyes glaring at the orc. "This bastard's gonna pay for killing Alfonso, and the new-blood."
As if on Que, the orc started walking towards them, his blade at the ready. An arrow flew into his upper-chest piece, bouncing off his angled armor. The following arrow had the same effect, but revealed one flaw in the armor. It was scaled, which meant gaps between the plates, if Darrick could get his blade into one of those gaps, he could kill the bastard. The sound of Richard's feet smacking dirt was an indication that this had become a duel. Darrick's stance changed slightly, he had a plan, now he just needed to execute it.
The orc simply snorted at him, as it brought it's blade down in a cross horizontal sweep. Darrick stepped out of the way, using his shield to block the blow in the process, not wanting to risk breaking his sword like the new-blood's did against that blade. The orc kept swinging and Darrick kept moving, his shield taking a beating as each hit dented it more and more. Darrick took a few swings at the orc, each hit bounced off his armor like the arrow. Whatever metal it was made out of, was much stronger than the his blade.
Finally though the opening that he had been waiting for finally came. The orc made the mistake of bringing his blade down in a vertical arc, this was Darrick's chance to land the killing blow. He stepped forward with his left foot, and brought his shield up at an angle. The blade slide across the shield as he rotated his body and shifted his feet around, bring him inside the reach of the orc, and the right angle to launch his blade up between the armor plates. His left foot swinging around as his right leg shifted forward, His shield arm tucking in as the orc's blade passed by, and his blade coming in low for an upward stab. He carried as much momentum as possible into the strike, his blade sliding up between the plates, and impaling itself into it's chest.
The sound of a blade dropping filled the air, the orc stumbled backwards, his hand slowly falling on the pummel of the sword. They shook as he fell backwards, still breathing as the blade broke in two at the guard. Darrick turned and grabbed the orc's blade, the blood of his comrades on it, as he stepped over the orc. "May the gods spare your soul of Catalyst's wrath." He brought the orcish blade down upon his head. Darrick pulled the blade away, the look of it was strange, but he liked it. In the pummel alone it felt stronger than any human blade, and he had seen the strength of the actual blade itself. So he cut some leather off one of the dead orcs, created a strap for it, and swung it across his back. He spent the night giving Alfonso and the new-blood proper burials before returning to the port, Richard awaiting his return with another templar unit. With him he carried Alfonso's sword, shield, and a ring, all of which to be returned to his family back home in the kingdom.