Raime had become fast, but Lugh had become strong, and though the scout reached Ari before Lugh did, him slowing down as he approached meant that the warrior may as well have struck him at full force.
It was like being hit by a battering ram, except the battering ram had hooks attached to it that tore into the flesh of his back, and the agony, though he had become almost accustomed to such terrible pain from yesterday’s battles, was still such that Raime’s entire body went numb as a lightning-white pain burst into his vision. Just like that, 64 points of damage was dealt, the scout stumbling into Ari before clumsily grabbing at her head and running off. Dirt exploded with every footfall, a nauseating sensation making it up Raime’s brain as he exerted himself to his physical limit while dealing with his pain, but he did what he could, removing Ari from the vicinity of combat before slowing to a halt and turning around.
Just in time to see the centipede woman’s face loom before him, skinny legs pounding frenetically into the ground.
While the scout had troubled himself with Ari’s plight, the monstrous being had twisted her head out of the way of Lugh’s thrown talisman, her elongated body twisting into a spiral as the blessed projectile flew off into the distance. And while Lugh had grounded himself, posturing defensively, she hadn’t stopped moving at all, skittering past the warrior at the same inhuman speed that she had ambushed Ari with. He would have his opportunity to strike at her body, but so what?
Raime, with Ari in tow, had slowed to a stop in order to admonish the reckless catgirl, and now they were both sitting ducks.
[Assess] pinged in, and, mere meters away from those beautiful lips from which horrid teeth jutted out, Raime understood that she was certainly an enemy to be feared: just as fast as he was, but far surpassing him in strength and durability. @Searat@Cu Chulainn@GreenGoat@Psyker Landshark
Ying Yue furrowed her brows again. This white devil was certainly a strange one, to disavow the consumption of all food other than the corpse-flesh of the demonic barbarians. She could respect the desire for further power though, and with Eri Ka's promise of freshening up before their rendezvous with the King of this monster-infested Empire, the young noblewoman gave the woman a nod, and strode on off, leaving the ramblings of the islander to be lost to the wind. Certainly, those west and east of the Central Kingdom used strange words. Stats? Leveling up? The foreign goddess had whispered such words into Ying Yue's mind as well, but she had ignored them, treating them as largely irrelevant. What hero was so mad as to give in to the words of an aberrant voice within their mind?
Her eyes narrowed slightly in the islander's direction, his fervor and speed of speech bringing forth a particular idea. That of a slimy merchant or a desperate boy, eager to court the affections of any lady who'd give them a chance.
Eri Ka ate monsters though, a feat that even Ying Yue herself couldn't replicate. Certainly, she could handle her own against a pale-skinned child. Casting them out of her minds, the noblewoman strode towards the portal and into the light. Judging by what she felt, it wouldn't be hard to get out of the situation, even if the King turned out to be a corrupt tyrant.
If it had been just yesterday, Ari’s disappearance would have been inevitable, her min-maxed build allowing her to outstrip anyone else in terms of sheer speed. But while she had died, others had leveled up, and now, compared to the three men who pursued her, she was undoubtedly the slowest of them all. Her solitude, granted to her by both the party’s confusion about what they were going to do, lasted all of three seconds before Lugh, followed by Raime and Amulak, emerged from the fog after her. A solo adventure this time, at least, seemed unlikely.
As the three approached, however, Ari could hear something else. The rattling of dry branches within the obscuring mists. Was that the wind? No, there was no wind. So what…
A woman’s face, pale and warped in eternal wrath, shot out from behind Ari, her split-tongue slipping out from a painted red mouth that was lined with thirty-eight razor sharp teeth. Her hair, jet black and glossy, ran three meters long, tangled as it was with branches and bones, while her body was a sinuous twenty meters, sectioned off onto half-meter long portions armored with a dark brown carapace. One hundred spindly legs, human legs, extended out from the sides of the centipede woman’s body, and in that instant, everyone’s perception of time slowed down.
Slowed down enough that a thought could form in all their heads.
If neither Lugh, Raime, nor Amulak acted, Ari, as fragile as she was, was certainly dead. And they only had a split second to do so. @Psyker Landshark@Cu Chulainn@Searat@GreenGoat While the boys chased after the catgirl, the real girls had better things to do. The A-team may no longer be around, but both Magpie and Ames had plenty of chances to improve, both in terms of equipment and in terms of attributes. Each of the brawler’s punches now struck with the force of twelve men, while the warrior wielded a real weapon, the sword of a fallen adventurer having claimed many lives in retribution. Ignoring Ari’s suicidal nature, the duo strode off on their own, until the footfalls of their allies were lost within the fog.
Between the two of them, there was only one Purification Amulet that Raime had given them, one tool that would enable them to actually harm the incorporeal monsters that were rumored to linger within these parts, but, well, what of it? Surely the game wasn’t so cruel as to completely neuter players who took martial classes? Surely, there were enemies within the Thunderstruck Grove that could be slain with a strong punch and a sharp sword.
After some wandering, their belief was rewarded with the sound of snapping bone, slurping meat, and raucous, bone-rattling laughter. Taking to the shadows of the skeleton trees, Ames and Magpie spied three humanoids of impressive proportions. Two were red-skinned and one was blue, but they were all mountains of muscles, three meter tall monsters with two horns stretching up from their bald heads. Their mouths were open, a mess of yellowed teeth jutting out in a way that was impossible for their lips to close over, and they tore chunks of flesh out of a boulder-sized bear that still sparked faintly with electricity. Wounds, lacerations and burn marks, covered their bodies, but the oni all seemed to be in a good mood. The blue one took a swig of some bottle before passing it around to his brothers.
Their weapons, a blackstone bonesaw and two iron clubs the length of themselves, laid propped up against the bear that had been slain.
Though Magpie and Ames were outnumbered, their quarry had already been injured and looked to be unaware of their presence. Was this an opportunity for an ambush? Or was this a trap? It didn’t look like the two had long to deliberate though. With every second that passed, the wounds on the monsters’ bodies began to dissipate. @Yankee@OwO Really, whose idea was it to go through the haunted hellscape alone?
Right, it was his own idea.
Adventuring solo through the blasted woods, the silence amplified every small sound around Klein. The skittering of some vermin. The cawing of a far-off crow. The scream of a dying creature. The splintering of broken wood. It all surrounded him, and the air, humid and cold, became suffocating, water catching into his lungs. His imagination, infected by stories and childhood terrors, made monsters out of the shadows behind the trees, made gravesoil out of any patch of dirt that felt oddly soft. The Brutal Cleaver offered only meager comfort, while the Goblin Warpaint made the man feel more goblin-like than war-like. Really, why was he even here? Even during day, the Thunderstruck Grove looked like the setting for a horror movie; what would he do if he got himself lost, and got stuck here all the way into the night? Not like Cacophony Concord had teleport waypoints that he could just access willy-nilly.
As those thoughts all pounded into Klein’s skull, his foot caught on a root, and he fell face-flat into the dirt, the shock of imbalance briefly pulling him out of his mind. Pushing up, the mountain man tried to stand up, only that same foot to be stuck again. Stuck on a dark, writhing root that had wrapped all the way around his ankle.
Behind him, the tree, once inanimate, began to shudder, pink blossoms sprouting from its bare branches as more roots burst out from the ground, showering Klein with dirt that smelled of blood. The tree didn’t roar, nor did it speak, but if Klein didn’t fight back, he was going to be buried alive. @Shovel
He was right, and he took no pleasure in being right either.
These creatures, no longer merely wretched organisms twisted by inhuman experiments alone, lumbered towards them, Augusta’s light affording the group a clear look at their dismal appearance. Consumed by aspects of vegetation, from thorns to roots, they were armed from head to toe, most likely possessed by the same sort of suicidal madness that the creatures aboveground were. Against methheads, Isidore had always preferred the comfort of a well-maintained handgun, but dancing in the dark, he’d have to make do with just a sword.
One charged at him with swiftness surpassing any other, and he released his hold on Octavia’s chain, allowing the pup to do as she saw fit. He coiled his legs, timed its speed, cleared his mind, and sprung into action. The ancient sword flashed out as Isidore surged forwards, striking the creature’s thorn-studded arm. If it cut through cleanly, he would reverse his grip and ram the sword into the creature’s face next, hopefully killing it instantly.
Isidore released Octavia, allowing the pup to do as she wished. He focused entirely on the creature in front of him. The creature hissed, black blood spilling from the cut as the blade only made it halfway into its target, its skin almost acting as a sort of natural armor almost. The creature followed up with its own blade, slicing into Isidore's shoulder.
Yet, Isidore felt no pain. Only a mild discomfort as the color of his skin around the wound turned black, stopping the blade from cutting more than a few centimeters into its target.
One hour left, starting from now.
With the momentum of his sword stopped, there was no longer any way for Isidore to cleave through it, so he sliced it out instead, black blood flicking off the freed sword. His left arm, covered in links of chain, swung out to bludgeon the monster’s own uninjured arm away, rusted metal cracking against wood and thorn to clear up a path. If his body had adapted to the attacks of this creature, then fine.
Right foot stomping onto the monster’s own foot to prevent escape, the dark-haired youth with the shining eyes thrust his sword towards the monster’s chest, right below where the solar plexus of a human was, and drew in a sharp breath of the cloying, salty stench as he forced his energies into the length of the blade.
When he had first stabbed someone, their blood ran hot on his hands. As hot as fire.
“Burn.”
And in that instant, he colored the blue of his soul with the red of anger, fear, and hunger, wishing to immolate this ugly beast from inside out.
The creature seemed utterly helpless against Isidore's brutal assault. It attempted to entangle his arm with its, but it proved useless as Isidore's foot slammed onto its. The creature hissed, growling in pain as its foot was crushed beneath Isidore's weight, but before it could react ancient steel pierced the rotten flesh.
A moment of perhaps, poetic silence followed.
A horrible shriek ended it, as Isidore's fury turned his blade red hot, flames burning along the blade for only a moment. The monstrosity's body jerked, the sickeningly salty sweet air was tinged with that of burning flesh and foliage as its body lit up form the inside, burning alive, inside out as it weekly lashed out at Isidore, until all at once it ceased, slowly burning to ash.
Don gritted his teeth as adrenaline surged through his veins, and fury burned in his heart. Whatever these monstrosities were, they used to be human-- or something close to human. If this mass of tar and vines made it past the guardian and escaped… There was no telling what might happen. "Augusta! Take care o' tha one in th' back-- aye got this un!"
Don brought his shield to bear as he moved to intercept the creature charging at the elven woman. How hardy these creatures were had yet to be seen, and if these things propagated like he suspected; through some sort of parasitic invasion, now was the wrong time to risk not killing them in a single strike. Even if he'd had his doubts initially, it was clear to Donovan that the strange star-serpent symbol was more than just a logo. It didn't just exist as a representation of whatever organization had once controlled this ruin, it was a symbol that invoked power. What kind of power; Don had no idea, but it was clearly something that directly opposed the hellish garden that sought escape from its prison.
The symbol of his star-serpent emblem at the forefront of his mind's eye, Donovan poured magical energies into his shield as he rushed the oncoming creature. The moment his shield would slam into the mutant, is the moment Don would drive the gathered power out, intent on blasting this abomination off the side of the walkway and into the abyss below.
Deciding to put his faith in this emblem he found. Curious, how was he so certain that the emblem held any divine power? Augusta had said it was enchanted, but divine? Or was it because of the similar markings on the door leading to this place? Either way, he would soon find the fruits of such an action.
He gathered the power in his shield, using the image of the emblem as a catalyst for channeling it. The creature didn't seem to react as it was intercepted, likely not caring so long as it had a target. Its swiftness however, would be its downfall. It slammed into Donovan's shield, hard enough to cause his muscles to strain from the impact.
The power released.
For a moment Donovan swore he heard the ticking of a clock as time seemed to slow for just a fraction of a second for him. Was it adrenaline? Or something else? He could see it clearly – a wave of almost invisible energy slamming into the creature before knocking it cleanly towards the edge of the walkway, and careening towards the edge...only to have a large root grow from under the walkway, curving upwards and stopping the creature before it could fall over the edge.
It jerked back to its feet, not seeming too injured...but it didn’t move towards Donovan. It seemed...cautious?
Don paused for half a moment, his eyes wide as he marveled at what he'd just witnessed. Had focusing on the symbol altered time itself? If such a thing was true-- that had to mean he'd just tapped into something of likely divine power. As much as he wanted to explore the possibilities this discovery opened up, there was still an impending threat that needed to be taken care of.
The man's eyes narrowed at the thrall, taking note of its ability to somehow call upon the already existing vines to aid it. From its tattered remains of clothing, and less sickly appearance; this had to have been a normal human when it was enthralled, unlike the malformed creatures the group had encountered higher up in the prison. Its seemingly cautious attitude didnt escape Don's notice either. If it could act cautiously, that meant it could still think. If it could think, it could plan. "Sly little bastard, ain't ya?"
If the size of the vine was anything to go off of, there were likely far more at the edge of the walkway, and the thrall was probably trying to bait him into their reach. He needed to finish this thing off from range, and Don knew just the thing to do it with.
"At th' beginnin' uh time-" Don began as the power within him began to stir once more, "-there was only tha void." Reaching up, he yanked his emerald broach free from his neck, before pulling the star-serpent emblem from his pocket. "And from within tha void-" Donavan calmly bound the emblem to the handle of his weapon with the thin cordage of his broach, "-all uh realiteh burst forth." Don readied a swing of his warhammer, the strange magical power within him ramping intensity with every syllable that left his lips. "Heat, gas, and dust gathered in its wake- " power surged forth; focused through the emblem and hammer as Donovan swang in a wide arc, "AN THA' STARS WERE BORN!"
Perhaps he was messing with something he would be better off not knowing. After all, who was to say this divinity, if it was that, was even benevolent or sympathetic. Perhaps though, he hadn't much of a choice were he to leave here unscathed. The same power he felt before began gathering in the hammer, pulling as much as he could from the Emblem and began chanting.
The creature however, much as Donovan surmised seemed to know he was doing something. Before even the second verse left his lips it began charging towards him, intent to try and silence him before he could finish his incantation. Donovan would barely have a moment to register the head of his hammer lighting up, bright as the stars he had just invoked. The creature leaped...and had its body slammed right into Donovan's hammer.
There was a flash of light, the sound of what seemed to be the sound of perhaps a loud gong. The creature was knocked backwards, a sickening crack heard as whatever bones in its body were broken from the impact. As it hit the ground, it did not move. Noticeably, the foliage on the creature's body began to shrivel and wither, the flower that had replaced its head rapidly seeming to die.
Augusta’s heart was racing some as the creature launched itself at her. Being able to fully see the creature’s features was something else to be sure. They seemed rather normal. Or, some did at least. She was glad when Donovan intercepted it and told her to take care of another one. “Fine. If you insist~ These things are called ‘Garden Thralls’. Similar Physical Strength, burns easily.” The Elven woman mentioned before stepping back to take aim at the one Donovan had asked her to handle.
Well. She had inflicted a Magic Missile. Created a Mage Light. Maybe that means she could do a bit more. These things were easily burnable right? Perhaps she could make a firebolt. She nodded to herself and took aim. She focused the magic in her hand like she did for the magic missile. But to make it fire… Make it hot? High heat. Basically feeds on oxygen… Something of the sort? Heat is just energy right? That’s what she learned in her schooling at least. So… Put a high amount of magical energy into a small area and maybe that would work? She fired what she thought was the proper calculation (a huge guess) and fired it at the monstrosity in her sights.
At the same time, Augusta channeled her magic, drawing on some earth principles to help speed the process along. Fire was hot, right? And in physics, the more energy something had, the hotter it became. In theory, perhaps that would apply here as well. She drew upon more energy, focusing it briefly in her hand and – a small fireball flickered into existence, sailing towards the same creature in the back.
The fireball slammed into it before it could get whatever was building up in its head out. It shrieked, a loud, painful wail as the flower on its head burned to ash. The creature in question started burning, small embers falling onto the grass below it, setting its sight on Augusta. In a pained frenzy, waving its arms and blades erratically it began charging towards the elf, only to be intercepted by Octavia. She once again latched onto the creatures ankle, pulling its feet completely out from under it.
“Good girl, Octavia.” Augusta mentioned as she smirked and aimed her hand at the Garden Thrall’s head. This time, she blasted a Magic Missile at the thing’s head, hoping that would end it. She wondered to herself, though. The goddess note mentioned something about “questionable intelligence” so perhaps… There was some. Or perhaps it was the garden. “You guys, know what? Perhaps we should burn this whole garden down if they’re as easily flammable as this flower on this Thrall’s head.” She mentioned aloud to her comrades as she started to ignite a fire in her hand and tossing it on the same thrall.
The bolt slammed into the thrall, the creature thrashed only a few more moments before falling lifeless.
By now though, the commotion seemed to have attracted other thralls that had been inside the garden. Isidore could see them easily, shambling their way over to their location. It was quite likely once they had spotted the group, they would swarm like these three had.
The pup, however, did not seem bothered and merely continued trotting towards the flower. The massive flower in the back seemed to sway in an unfelt breeze.
Isidore stepped away from the fuming corpse, black blood sizzling still on the flat of his sword. As the rush of adrenaline faded, he began to feel that dull ache on his shoulder. Less pain than he’d have expected from such a cut, but perhaps that too was a sign of a different body than what he once had. The others too, had finished their tasks, though their work was about as loud as can be expected. His gaze briefly fell upon Donovan’s hammer, the celestial light just about faded from its head, before turning upon the garden. This attack would not go unanswered; it was time to continue.
“They’ve heard us, but not seen us,” Isidore said, his tone as measured as always. “Let’s continue. Quickly and quietly. Donovan, cover the back. Augusta, stay center.”
He continued down the pathway again at a clipped pace. The great flower beckoned, and now that fire was something that could be made manifest from one’s soul, Isidore was feeling...diplomatic.
Augusta wanted to protest them leaving, but the small horde of thralls kept her lips sealed. If they were “black-blooded” like her eyes told her… Then they and Octavia were related. The hellhound would likely be safe enough though Augusta was loath to leave in this manner. Perhaps she should just try burning all these thralls, but the time was past with Isidore making his way out. She followed behind Isidore, not wanting to have to fight more of those by herself.
The path forwards led around the garden and towards the beautiful yet baleful flower. As they neared it, its giant roots retreated, lifting from the ground and coiling into an archway. An open door. An invitation into the garden's heart. The flower loomed above, the remnants of a stone walkway beneath overgrown with the gardens grass. The sweet smell was strongest, and the purest here. Intoxicating, almost, as was the beauty of the flower itself.
A pool of black tar collected in the center of the small courtyard area, the source of this garden in all likelihood. Tar slowly dripped down the plants stalk from its unbloomed flower. A large slab of stone had impaled it through its stalk, from the ceiling to the ground below, ensuring it was unable to move easily. Another flower bulb closed tight was situated at the base of the slab, leaking more of that blackened tar into the pool in large quantity. Octavia moved towards it, pawing and attempting biting it.
A quick look into the garden, would show the thralls slowly converging on the spot they had previously been, but having apparently taken note of their fallen allies, perhaps, they had started to spread out, some heading towards their position.
Classification: ---------- Nursery Physical Attributes: Stronger than you Magic Attributes: N/A Weakness: Fire Divine purification Abilities: Incubator Able to birth countless demons to defend itself. Special attributes: Grave garden An ancient being was executed and their body interred here. A garden foul garden sprang from their corpse. Shackled. Ancient seals keep the garden from spreading too far above. Yet its roots seem to extend down nearly infinitely even into the depths of the ocean. What would first appear to be a flower to the untrained or uneducated, is in fact a sentient, living plant like demon. Within its body and roots flows thick tar which it spreads in an area to take root, thus making a 'garden' where it proliferates and births demons like itself. An incubator that grows, breeds, and revives demons of its family. Limited intelligence. Usually docile and inactive except in cases of self-defense where it will call thralls to aid it.
“This garden is a bit of an inconvenience.” Augusta mentioned, looking at the information her eye gave about it. “Bright side is, even if we left it be, it shouldn’t prove a threat outside this chamber.” The elven woman mentioned aloud. “A demon of limited intelligence, it says. Shackled and it’s roots dig deep. It’s probably not leaving here. For now, at least.” Augusta mentioned, looking over the plant-like demon. If it were sealed here, either it was to keep it from harming things or it was for an experiment. Considering the rest of this place so far it was hard to tell. It seemed like it’d be easy to off, though if the roots were as deep as the text implied it might be rather difficult.
“Hrm.” Not a plant then, but a parasite, one that drew in the wretched creatures to take control of them. Isidore’s eyes slide towards Octavia, who had so early rushed into the courtyard of the demon-plant to gnaw at the flower bud. One similar to the tar-plant that had birthed her.
Interesting.
Furrowing his brow against the sticky-sweetness of the flower, Isidore strode through the archway and into the courtyard. Whether Octavia had been bait to lead them into such a trap as this was irrelevant; if the flower was just here to kill them, there was much more that it could have done before they got this close. And if it thought to change them...well, he wasn’t human to begin with, and he wasn’t supposed to be alive either. In a world such as this, with a sunless sky and abominations dwelling beneath the Earth, with a body many times improved from his past life, he would live as he wished, claiming what he required.
“Donovan, I won’t die before the hour ends. Protect Augusta.” Isidore turned his gaze upwards, to that beautiful, yet baleful flower dripping black tar from above. The stench reminded him of those Amazonian plants, sating carnivorous appetites by drawing in flies with the smell of rotting fruit.“Now, let’s talk.”
Otis was a diligent young man, but it was lessons like that which truly tested him. The eight elements of Arcanis? The reality of a life spent where magical energies were tangible and affected the environment? He had fought hard to stay focused on Utsumi’s lecture as the professor found it apt to cover topics that children understood intrinsically back home, but in the end, the Strigidae found his mind wandering, and he slipped his notes from natural sciences out of his bag, only tangentially listening to Utsumi as he reviewed geology and fossilization. The last month and a half in Earth had been rather enlightening, really, and the sheer amount of books that the library contained on all sorts of subjects was enjoyable too. A part of him couldn’t understand it, really, how so many others could be disinterested in mathematics or history. It was fascinating, really, comparing differences in technological and societal developments between the two worlds, as well as how Earth and Arcanis even understood territory differently; one formed political borders through war and negotiation, while the other settled it largely through differences in elemental affects.
Meanwhile, it felt as if he had already learned basically everything that the good professor was covering in this particular class, barring the specifics of the spellbooks that he used. Perhaps Otis’s education was unbalanced while he was still studying in the capital, but it felt like all the magic theory he had studied in anticipation for higher education at Silver Gate Academy was now backfiring spectacularly by making him bored as hell during his actual lessons. Wasn’t too bad of a thing though. The amount of ‘extra’ review time that he had for magical theory meant he could memorize a couple more spells in his spare time, and the few cultural notes on what Earth-denizens interpreted the arcane energies around them as was pretty charming too.
Still felt like something he could find in a well-produced Youtube video though. Sometimes, Otis really did wonder if he wouldn’t have been better off using his tuition to fund a globe-trotting adventure instead. Alas, the ‘mundane’ education in Silver Gate Academy was his fetters, keeping him locked in place. Otis sighed, rubbed his eyes, then realized that class was over. A form sat before him and he cocked his head to the side, confused about the connotations of all this. Consent for…what, exactly? He stared at it a bit longer, before shrugging. Confusion was never anything that bothered him for long, not when he could just ask someone else. He slid his notes back into his leather bag, swept his shawl off his chair and back onto his shoulder, before striding over to Koyuki, one of the smarter students in his class, who also fulfilled the requirement of being of the nation of Japan.
“Hey, Ko,” Otis said, golden eyes locking onto her own. “What did Utsumi say at the end? Kyoto’s the old capital, yes? How long’s the trip? You know any interesting places there? Or places to eat, even? Seidoujima’s alright, but not very traditional. How’s the nightlife there? You’ve been there, right? Wanna room up? I’ll be your alibi if you’ll be mine. Talking about if there’s a curfew. Did he say anything about a curfew?”
The Borders of Thunderstruck Grove Nothing changed for Klein, not really, as he finally accepted his job. A flickering of light, and a screen flashed before his eyes as he jumped more than ten levels in an instant, obtained three new abilities as well. It wasn’t nearly as many levels as the others, but it wasn’t too bad either. With this, at least, he would be able to finally begin growing in strength as well, no longer wholly reliant on his Nuclei’s ability to contribute to the group.
The others had reconvened at the Keystone at this point as well, a dusty, sweaty Raime being the last to join them. While perceiving the world at six times the dilation of a normal individual, the scout had still noticed that many other Immortals were shooting out of Nyu-Taro at speeds rivalling or surpassing his own. For the monsters closest to the city-state, however, as well as the adventurers who actually stopped to fight them, he had been…not a blur exactly, but fast enough of a target that no one bothered. Searching and foraging couldn’t be done on the go though, not unless Raime stopped in place and allowed his subjective time dilation to fade away, and after a session of picking at unknown plants and weeds, he had come away with thirty seven assorted vegetables: eight blue star-shaped herbs, twelve snowflake-esque weeds, ten orange buds with spiralling petals, and seventeen more of those white herbs he suspected were painkillers. The value of his herb collection was hard to tell when Raime had no concrete idea what they were, but at least he had them.
A more concrete form of success, really, was found in a new awareness of how exactly rishi could be made within the game. The wooden planks nailed to the wall informed of escort missions, yes, but also of requests to kill a variety of monsters. Of the Thunderstruck Grove in particular, vagrant onis were going for the price of 20,000 rishi per head, with the proof of kill being their horns. Less extravagant, but still a great bonus, were reanimated warriors. These went for 10,000 rishi, but only if you could find a family crest on them, or any other form of identification. Grieving families didn’t pay, apparently, for corpses of questionable identity. Finally, there was a special commission from the Ryoku-Jo clan, personally funding an endeavor to slay all bandits and criminals within the Grove, offering a reward that could go all the way up to 500,000 rishi. It was a lump sum payment though, apparently based off the infamy of those that were slain rather than the amount, and it required one to bring back the heads of their foes to one of the clan’s outposts for identification and examination.
Regardless, it was with this knowledge that the group set off for the Thunderstruck Grove, taking the northern gate out of the city-state. The terrain became more varied as they walked down the well-trodden path, often passing and being passed by groups of other Immortals. The quality of the gear seen on the bodies of their peers was definitely a couple steps up compared to the type of people who they encountered at the Pearl Bloom River or the Goldspun Fields. A Mohawk-sporting woman in lacquered wood rode a massive bear that sparked and sputtered with crystalline bolts. A slender youth in fine robes carried a well-worn book in one hand and a sundering spear of jade and pearl in another. A bulky shadow, form not betraying the swift silence in which they moved, shot past them, the scarlet of their scarf trailing behind them. Nyu-Taro was the neutral city-state within Horogi, the cradle of this nation’s newest Immortals, and Thunderstruck Grove appeared to be where the strongest of the newbies went to complete their training.
And like that, it stood before them.
Smoke and fog mixed together as scarred, skeletal trees clawed at the sky above. The dirt here was dark, blackened, shrubbery yellowed and sparse. Moss-grown stone statues could be found here and there, some half-consumed by tree roots, others cracked and broken. They served as landmarks; there were no clear roads here, and the obscuring weather swallowed people up whole. Sounds of conflict were muted by the density of the trees, and perhaps some other factor. Only the occasional scream sounded clearly, but maybe that was just from the evil spirits that lingered within this forest? Was that clattering just some loose stones, or of dry bone? Did someone in the party sigh, or was that the breath of a stalking monster? As the party delved into the forest and considered what they ought to prioritize, whether it be bandit hunting, monster slaying, or tunnel searching, there was at least one thing to be optimistic about.
Yankee
Altered Tundra
Alisdragon911
stone
VitaVitaAR
Animal
LanaStorm
Ohm
Haha
Shovel
