Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.
Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.
At the tail end of the procession, Malachi held his silence as he kept his distance. The thieves' den lat just ahead, and while Byron seemed eager to strategize, the brawler just knew that a few choice members of their impromptu squad would march right up and announce their presence. In fact, Izel and Sylphie did just that, the latter swaggering up with an almost disgusting confidence. Though he couldn't claim much experience with them, Malachi was beginning to see that children with power were dangerous things. What would an immature, highly-emotional child with neither responsibility nor restraint do with incredible strength...? This, apparently.
He watched as Sylphie gave a half-hearted attempt to coax a surrender out of the bandits, but they didn't seem to understand the predicament they were in. Stupid. As Malachi could attest, any highwayman worth his salt was as cautious as he was cunning, riding the fine line of the hyena between predator and prey. After negotiations went south, the slaughter ensued. From a ways off, Malachi watched with folded arms and a stony frown. Sylphie butchered the vagrants up one after another, and Izel treated them like playthings, toying with them until their tatters fell through her fingers. Malachi counted himself lucky that circumstances established him as a sort of compatriot to these killers. Slaying monsters was a duty often asked of the strong, and in both days spent wandering and in his village home, he'd saved many a life by putting an end to such threats. He didn't exactly want to spend enough time around them for their conceptions to change, and after seeing this, he didn't want to test his mettle as badly.
A moment after Aerarius left to join the dogpile, Malachi shook his head. “Seen all I need to,” he told Byron and Efander. He turned partways, trying to get a lay of the land and sky. “If ya don't mind, I think I'll be on my way.” A lot could change in a few hundred years, but the sun at least would lead him south until he reached the sea. After that, he could trace the shoreline until he caught sight of Sydene. Given the likelihood of his country being intact and recognizable -that is, not at all- he felt no particular rush, other than wanting to be away from here. Truly, he thought with a dry chuckle, I got all the time in the world.
Level 5 Tora - (16/50) EXP and Level 4 Poppi - (14/40) EXP Location: Hamlet, the Land of Adventure Word Count: 684 @DracoLunaris@Stekkmen
Tora and Poppi watched in passive silence as Agoston and Bowser jointly decided for the group, plotting their course. Despite the interesting Hamlet of pigs, it appeared that the group wouldn't be spending much time here. Once they investigated the hunter lady mentioned by the helpful swine, they would be on their way. Poppi supposed that whatever Lumbridge scouts explored the wheat fields must also have stumbled upon the Hamlet too, but if not, she could deliver some information about this place back to the guild. For his part, Tora wondered if this settlement -with all its civilization and establishment- would vanish in the Land of Adventure's next rollover, or if it would remain as a fixture like Lumbridge. What exactly would happen to these people if it did? The thought of such a temporary life terrified him. He wasn't the sort of Nopon to stick his (nonexistent) neck out and be a hero for strangers, but all these happy, industrious pig people couldn't just blip out of existence, could they? But what could he do to help? What would Rex do...?
After a few more moments of deliberation, the Bowsers and the Centurion proceeded toward the inn. Tora, however, stayed still, and a worried Poppi remained with him. A couple seconds passed, with Truffleston and his associated looking at him confusedly, before Tora spoke up. “Meeh...piggypon mayor?”
“Yes, young man?”
“Do know how Land of Adventure works?”
The strange question caught the well-dressed porker off guard. “Er, I fear mine understanding does lack.” Clearly, he was having some trouble understanding the Nopon dialect as well.
A couple moments to process the troubling news later, Tora continued. “Meh meh, Tora not know too well either, but here is gist. People tell that each week, whole land regenerate itself. Almost everything changed or replaced. Some stuff not change, but Tora not know why, meh.”
The mayor looked aghast. “Preposterous!” he exclaimed in disbelief. “Thy tale beggars belief. The Hamlet has stood proud since...since...”
Now in line with her masterpon's thinking, Poppi cut in. “Even if piggy mayor not believe, should really try in next few days to send folks west, past field and plain, to big town called Lumbridge. Talk with people, maybe try to set up road or route between Lumbridge and Hamlet. Maybe if connected with anchor, Hamlet not be lost.”
It was a leap of logic, but it was the best the pair could offer. Truffleston looked equal parts thoughtful and disturbed, and after a few moments he gave an assenting nod. “Very well. On the chance thou telleth truth, we will send envoys to yonder town. At the very least, trade doth fatten our pockets. But if thy warning spares the Hamlet some disaster, we will owe thee dearly.”
Tora and Poppi smiled. They wanted to talk more, but the others had already reached the inn, so they had to get going. Hopefully what they'd done would be enough.
-=-=-
The wiry-bearded pig behind the inn counter pointed a trotter up the stairs, signaling Bowser, Junior, and Agoston where to go. “By happenstance, thy quarry just returned, mayhap to fetch something. Seeketh her up there, though be careful. Hail, sir dragon,” he waved down Bowser in particular. “Thy bulky frame would crack mine pig-shaped corridors. Kindly detain thyself outdoors, sirrah.” By some miracle, the pig inn seemed to be much bigger on the inside than the outside, but it still wasn't big enough for Bowser. His kid, however, could follow the Centurion up the stairs and to a door left open by a guest planning quick egress.
Inside, they could see a lean woman in blue garb, leather gear, and golden armor. A dependable crossbow hung at her hip, but with her back to the door her face could not be seen. She'd thrown open the shuttered window, and as her guests watched, a huge eagle swooped down to land on her outstretched arm. The huntress stroked his feathered head before turning to face the newcomers along with her bird. Together, they stared the heroes down. “What do you want?”
Even as the killer pelagics threatened to bleed Gran dry, the heroic resolve of his allies galvanized them into action. Linkle, Geralt, and Euden attacked with renewed strength and determination, and the tide swiftly started to turn. The archeress whirled in an acrobatic dance of death, wheeling about from foe to foe in a storm of bolts and blows, her momentum preventing her from staying in any one place long enough to take another thrust or slice. Euden, after pulling his blade free from the scaly corpse Linkle helped to bury it in, backed off to let her take center stage while his flaming sword drove errant pelagics toward her. After a few moments she broke off to circumnavigate the fish mob using the ice, but leaving her allies at the pelagics' mercy was the last thing on her mind. After she circled around, Linkle unleashed a fusillade of bolts that raked through the enemy ranks but left her friends untouched. The wounded monsters could barely see Linkle coming as she then swept in and went off.
Piercing power followed by a wall of flame left turned almost all of the pelagics to ash in a matter of moments. Those who remained met a swift end on Geralt's blade soon after, its silver already wet from cutting them down prior to Linkle's outburst. All of a sudden, no enemies remained. The heroes' combined efforts had prevailed; the pelagics were no more. The last corpses, including that of the guardian, faded into ash to leave fish-faced spirits behind, and everyone could breath easy, from the wounded Gran to the elevated Phoenix.
Euden wiped his blade off on his sleeve, sheathed it, and stooped to help Gran. Everyone could see that the boy needed a healer, but for now all they could do was bind his wounds to cloth to keep the blood in. Meanwhile, the door to the floating house burst open, and from the aperture sashayed a pair of strange-looking clowns. The first had a cheery air, and the second a dour one, but right now both looked shaken yet relieved. “Phew!” Exclaimed the first. “You sure saved our bacon there! We don't have a lot to offer you, but as far as I'm concerned you can cannon ride or fly-by-fowl for free whenever you like!”
His friend nodded gravely. “Yeah, thanks. Really mean it.”
By happy accident, Hat Kid returned to the central chamber with her second painting only a few moments after Michael and Franklin arrived there as well. Any greetings or introductions were made difficult by the fire spirits, however, incessantly mewling for the puzzle-solvers to cast their loot into the flames and end their bizarre existences. Two pairs of retrieved paintings made a full set, so by the time the last bonfire consumed its corresponding painting and the rapturous fire spirits burnt out with grateful cries, the blaze surrounding the central alter died out completely.
The girl trapped inside had at some point awakened, though held captive by the flames and silenced by their roar, she couldn't do anything until now. Any confusion or fear went out the window as she threw herself at her saviors with teary-eyed relief, cramming them all into one big hug. “Oh, thank you, thank you! That was awful! I've been in there for so long!” Seconds passed with the group locked in her embrace, with only her sniffling breaking the silence in the now-dim room. After a little while, however, Tressa released them and stepped back, wiping the last tear from her eye. From the look of her, she hadn't many to spare; the merchant girl looked singed, sooty, very dehydrated, and hungry. Her skin was cracked in some places, and the red in her eyes flickered weakly. Without the others for support, she trembled from the mere effort of standing up. “Can we...can we go?” She asked, confusedly looking around.
The Courier's shotgun shells struck true, inflicting nasty wounds on the head of the Tzitzi-ya-ku, but the beast did not stagger. If the bullets pierced through, they did not inflict the damage one would expect. The monster's razor-sharp talonblades narrowly missed the evading Courier and instead carved through the gun arm of Bastion a split second after it appeared, the hideous sound of rending metal ringing out across the highlands. It was a work of a fleeting moment, but an impossible feat nonetheless to anyone who knew the first thing about materials and force. Metal could not be cut by blades. Yet, the frontmost half of Bastion's SMG arm hit the ground all the same, and the monster followed up with a spinning tail swipe that knocked the omnic on its back to disappear the next moment. Whatever this beast was, its inexplicably consistent attacks and resistance to being staggered suggested that it stood a cut above the average dinosaur.
Still, the blows to its head did seem to disorient the thing. When the Ace Cadet clanged his shield to draw its attention, the Tzitzi-Ya-Ku took the bait. It lunged at him twice, snapping its jaws.
Meanwhile, the wigglers had all sunk into the ground, and watched with slitted eyes for the danger to pass. An offputting odor was on the wind, one of bloodlust and slaughtered meat. To the practiced nose it suggested unrelenting tenacity, hailing from a grotto of carrion and rot.
Nero
Location: Charnal Lane, Dead Zone
As the battle began, Nero noted with approval that his comrades had elected to make the absolute most of the circumstances to whale on the Ent from moment one. Not a moment after his taunt signaled the battle starting, Ratchet lobbed a few proximity mines and Jak pelted the boss with a blue eco barrage. At the same time, Blazermate's sentry and newly-minted Swarm began their assault. The sight of the Medabot using her brand-new arm to control and mutate undead like the demons he fought minutes ago gave Nero pause, but as long as it worked he couldn't complain. Everyone dealt with the Ent's shockwave well enough, either clearing it with a leap, like Banjo and Kazooie, or taking to the sky altogether, like Donnie did as he zoomed upward atop his stalwart disc.
While the monk dug around for some booze to light up, the Ent's hollows went on the offensive, only to fall like wheat to the scythe to Kamek and the sentry's gunfire. For a moment, Ratchet appeared to space out, but the little hollows' axes passed straight through. While they struggled to comprehend what was happening, the real Ratchet appeared behind the Ent, his fearsome new weapon at the ready. The Reaper spat a torrent of hellfire to sear the towering treant's legs, the only part he could reach point-blank. His burning burst charred the wood and began a fire, but instead of spreading across the Ent and turning it into a raging inferno, the blaze stayed fairly confined. When Ratchet rose above the Ent courtesy of Clank, however, he could clearly see the weak spot highlighted by Blazermate: an opening on its upper back, full of red energy. A Reaper burst into that proved far more effective. At the same time, Banjo scaled the monster with his partner's help to rise high enough for a powerful Beak Buster onto the Ent from above. Together the attacks made the Ent mad, and a crackling cry echoed across the plaza.
It thrashed its enormous arms, threatening to annihilate the slow-flying Lombax should one hit. But Jak and Daxter could escape the Ent's range on the former's board, and Donnie hovered far enough above to evade its brutal fury. From a hidden reserve he poured strong liquor onto the boss's head, and after the monk struck a match he dropped the ember to light the Ent on fire.
The inferno, however, did not take. While the alcohol burned readily enough, the Ent did not go up in flames. It smoldered all over as the flame damage ticked away, but it exhibited no particular weakness. Its constitution, it appeared, was not your average wood. Some sort of nonflammable gas permeated it, a thick, heavy hazy. Whatever it was, Nero did not care. He sprinted forward, and when a flailing arm came near enough, he grabbed on with a Wire Bound and flew into the air. The demon hunter sailed through the sky like a kite on a string, only letting go when he reached the apex and could glimpse Blazermate's weak spot. Nero revved the Red Queen, making its motor sing with power, and hurtled downward in a spinning vertical slash. “Double DOWN!”
His blade split the glowing crimson core-wood, and without further ado Nero started slamming his blade onto the target again and again. The inelegant pummeling continued even as a pink must started to bubble up from the wood, and the Ent leaned forward. Nero noticed the change and prepared to jump off, but his sword stuck in the reddish muck. “...What?” Then the Ent convulsed, launching a blast of rotting pink gunge and gas that exploded point-blank. “Gaaaah!” Nero flew from the boss's back and hit the ground hard. He rolled twice, but the rot stayed with him. A furious, wet hacking cough wracked him, and the demon hunter couldn't get up. Meanwhile, the Ent continued to release blast after blast. Each payload shot skyward, arced perfectly, and plummeted straight toward its assailants. Two each flew for Donnie, Ratchet, Jak, Blazermate, and Gene, each sporting a sizable blast radius hefty damage, and full serving of Root Rot.
At the same time, Rot Warts started to emerge from the ground alongside a fresh wave of hollows. These bulbous Root, full of the same infectious miasma weaponized by the Ent, mindlessly rushed the nearest foes with a wheezing balloon-like noise to explode and leave behind a lasting cloud of Root Rot. Anyone inflicted by the infection would no doubt experience the same paralyzing coughing Nero suffered.
After unleashing its volley, the smoldering Ent stood up and lifted its arms for another shockwave.
Every breath was a labor, every step a struggle. One foot at a time, the haggard young woman trudged up the by-now familiar and welcome hill just outside camp, and with a final groan she let herself fall against the tree growing from its crown. Limp, she slid down its smooth surface and into a sitting position, where she lay like a puppet with its strings cut. Silence -save for her breathing- endured for a few moments before a rebellious spirit sparked within her. She mustered up her fury, her indignity, and let it loose.
“Guh!” That march. That. March. Never had Artemisia walked so much, so hard, for so long in all her life. Sure, she was fleeing from an invading army that'd be more than happy to put her to the sword if they identified her as a threat, but was dying really that bad compared to all that exercise? The soreness had yet to leave her. And ever since deciding to stick with this army for the time being, putting on the guise as a mage hired for the army, they'd been working her to the bone. Training, chores, training, upkeep, meetings, and more training. Being off the battlefield seemed a fair sight tougher than being on one. At least then she could share her misery with a few poor suckers before biting it. Oh, well. At least they fed her without question, at let her be alone most of the time. Plus, she got some less-conspicuous clothes to wear—a baggy, long-hooded caster's robe in the Empire's colors. When night fell, and the drills ceased for the day, she could finally relax and start prodding people for stories. Already she'd filled a few pages with tantalizing summaries. If there was one thing war was good for, she learned, it was making history. Speaking of, it was about time she jot down a bit more of her own.
After making another entry in her journal, Artemisia sighed and set it aside. She felt better already, satisfied even. As much as she hated to admit it, she wasn't in the best of shape, and those morning drills were making her stronger. Still, as long as she stuck with these Lothians, she grew no closer to her goal, unless by some miracle her target lay among the ranks of soldiers she failed to examine so far. And if he or she did turn up here, what exactly could Artemisia do? Kidnap someone from under an entire army's collective noses? Her best bet in such a case lay in the heat of some battle, during which enough distraction would exist to let her take someone unawares, but if forced to fight she would be obliged to reveal her identity as a Dark Mage. Another sigh escaped her. If only she could turn invisible. Or warp somewhere far away from here.
As her thoughts slid to happier places, she started daydreaming of exploring with her father, and grew oblivious to the surrounding world.
__________________________ Status: Fatigued and distant
Class: Occultist Inv: Vulnerary, Book of Secrets New entry Bone-tired and sore from drilling again. Yet, this situation should not last much longer. Now that the battalions have gathered and made preparations, I hear from my as-of-now compatriots that the commanders will be assigning teams of soldiers to missions in the near future. A little excitement and variety will go a long way toward making this unexpected sojourn bearable. No new individuals have piqued my interest, though I did happen to encounter that long-haired brawler who came to my defense again. Witty and refreshingly humble for a noble scion, if not overly gregarious, I must admit him not-unpleasant company. Yet, among the many faces to bob in and out of my vision on any given day, I can count none as those of friends. Yet my eyes scour them nonetheless, seeking the rosy hue of destiny.
Time and Place: Bustling inn in the early afternoon, Edinbourgh
Even after sitting down, another hefty silence had settled on the taciturn pair, which continued to weigh upon Trace and Artemisia up until the point her food arrived. The meal was simple, an ear of corn plus a cut of pork, but it ignited a spark in those blue eyes of hers. “Oh, that is delectable,” she remarked after swallowing a big mouthful. “I can assure you, the sort of provisions you receive while in a clinic are best reserved for famine. One can scarcely call it food, though I imagine that’s to be expected. Our patrons were seldom the sort who could afford private care, after all, and ascetics like the Sister must not value food as anything but sustenance.” She cut off another slice of pork and devoured it, though she did take care in her earnestness to not make a spectacle of herself.
The silence had been long and heavy but such silence didn’t bother Trace as much as it might have a more talkative person. The situation outside and the uncertainty of the situation here at this table both combined to keep his mind rather occupied. He had eaten not too long before and didn’t have too much of an appetite at present. But, he still ordered bread with butter and cheese as well as a bowl of the anonymous stew on the fire. It would all be good to eat after a while, even cold. Though, the stew might lose something of its savor. He would be able to simply pack away the bread and cheese for later if he had to.
When the food arrived, the mood at the table changed immediately as Artemisia began talking. In fact, she talked quite a bit. Trace was beginning to wonder if she was forcing herself since such profuse discourse didn’t seem to fit her very well. Still, he didn’t know her all that intimately in the first place. All he could do was reply. “The food here is good. It’s popular with the more successful mercenaries. I’ve heard that some of the merchants and shop owners take their dinners here on occasion as well.”
Trace’s thoroughly uninteresting comments did not seem to provoke a response from Artemisia. Instead, she picked at the remained of her meat, a thoughtful expression crossing her features. “I wonder...what did this pig go through to come here? Could be as simple as sourcing it from a local farm. But it’s salted, so it was preserved and could have come a long way. Did the meat just get shipped off by a swineherd, or was it taken as a tax from some poor downtrodden peasant, perhaps, passed around and redistributed by some Lothian stooge? Maybe part of a shipment recovered -or stolen- from some convoy, or taken as loot from a distant conquest. Or was it wild, hunted in some daring chase by a desperate young hunter, or maybe by a tired old lord looking for a thrill, that he then charitably bequeathed to a local butcher? What made the tax collecter so hard-hearted as to be able to live with such actions? What grand adventures did that elderly noble see in his youth that make him yearn for action in his late years?”
Artemisia looked at Trace for the first time since she’d received her meal. Before now the young woman seemed withdraw, quiet, and even antisocial, but now…’passionate’ described her far better. “Might not seem like it, but there are stories everywhere. Interesting tales even in mundane objects. Where they were, whose they were, what happened to them. People, of course, can tell their own stories.” She let go her utensil and placed both elbows on the table, arms crossed. “It’s all so fascinating, you see. That’s why I hate surface-level small talk.”
Trace listened and watched. For the first time since they had first exchanged words he seemed to focus on her exclusively. His gaze became piercing and intelligent. And, he smiled. It was a small smile but a smile none-the-less. He knew that he was being challenged to reveal more than he had been willing to share. So, the curiosity was mutual.
“There really are stories everywhere, even in small talk. The merchants who own stores in town come here to eat because the food here is better than there is on their own tables during the lean months. The owner here sources their foodstuffs from the most reliable sources in the empire. Some of the ingredients come from far away, others from next door. While the quality isn’t the highest, the supply is always regular and that reliability is a great strength in this business.” Trace took a quiet breath while he continued to examine his dinner partner. She wanted to know his story. He wanted to know hers. Perhaps a trade then.
“Like most who tell stories, I’m not sure if anyone would want to hear mine. But, I became a mercenary when I was 12. I joined a group called the Pierced Shield. They were mostly swordsmen and took a lot of small local jobs around Edinburgh. But, my first job was getting strong enough to fight. My… limited magic wasn’t something worth their attention. I trained with the spear, hard. I had only one teacher, he was one of the most veteran members of the company. He was also the only one who knew the lance. He kept me from going on jobs until I was 21.” Trace’s gaze hardened a little before he continued.
“My first job was the last job that the Pierced Shield ever took. I survived, along with a few other rookies who managed to get away. Everyone else died.” He took another long breath. “A lot of stories ended that night. But, like always, others started at the same time.”
This was his initial answer to her challenge, her open desire to get more information out of him. From here, he simply had to decide whether or not her interest was sufficient to justify telling her the details of that job… and how it went wrong. He took a bite of his stew but kept his eyes on Artemisia. The stew was good, far better than the typical travel rations he carried.
The mage nodded. “Not bad.” A beat passed before her eyebrows went up. “That is to say, you are not a terrible storyteller. Naturally, I’m sorry to hear that happened. Of course, if that memory is too tragic for you I shall not ask you to elaborate, but I would be interested in the details of that night. I do not have much experience with battle or the mercenary lifestyle, so I cannot imagine what terrible fate must have befallen your company.” She picked up and resumed nibbling at her corn.
Trace’s smile, which had faded away as he spoke, returned. He had indeed been right. But, she hadn’t decided to trade stories. At least she was interested. And, there really wasn’t much reason to not tell the story at this point. So, he swallowed the stew in his mouth and continued.
“That job was one that the whole company was hired for. Most jobs, dealing with bandits, guard jobs, or bounties only need a few people. But, Pierced Shield wasn’t a big company so most of the veteran members had to go on every job. This one was an escort job. We were hired to protect the young son of a low rank noble on his way to some reclusive magic school in the north. The company stayed in formation with the best of us around the carriage and the other accomplished members in the vanguard. The rookies and less capable members were kept in the rear. The trip was pretty uneventful for the first day. With dusk coming on, the leader wanted us to make camp for the night and proceed in the morning.” Here, Trace paused and took a bite while he organized his memories. There was something that was bothering him about what he remembered.
“The young noble got out of the carriage for the first time and insisted that we continue on through the night. He said that he had to get there without delay. The leader gave in. But, it was odd. That kid was wearing a full cloak in early summer… and his hood was up, hiding his face. To this day I’ve never seen a noble hide themself like that.” He took another breath. “We proceeded on into the night. It was cloudy and fog began to rise around midnight, just as we were entering a forest. The ambush was fast… strong. They weren’t bandits. They moved fast and quiet from both flanks. No war cries or shouted orders and their armor was covered in black paint to keep it from shining. Most of them used spears or swords, the rest had bows. They were armed with just the right weapons to counter us and they knew exactly what they were doing. They began with a volley of flaming arrows that almost all hit the carriage. It was a mass of flames in moments. The little noble managed to get out of the carriage but the enemy had charged in immediately. He didn’t make it past their lances. Neither did the guards around the carriage.” Trace’s expression was flat but his eyes were grim as he seemed to sink into that scene from the past. Reexamining these memories gave him a bad feeling, like maybe it wasn’t over with that. Assassins don’t like living witnesses. “The elites from the Pierced Shield were attacked by the enemy’s best before they could move to protect the carriage but they only sent a few common lancers to attack the rookies at the rear. They knew our formation ahead of time. But, they underestimated me. I hadn’t shown anyone my skill before. I wasn’t even sure how good I was then. I remember thinking that it was strange… how slow they moved. I told the other rookies to run, they wouldn’t have been any help anyway. They all used swords and moved slower than the enemy lancers did. They ran quickly enough though...” Trace fell silent for several long moments. It was hard to remember that night, painful, troubling. “I killed the few lancers that they sent and then I fled. None of the others made it out.” He took a deep breath, pulling himself out of those memories with some effort.
“Reputation is everything for a mercenary. Without it you can’t make enough coin to feed yourself. For a soldier, running away when the battle is lost is cowardly. For a mercenary, it’s how you survive having foolish employers. The Pierced Shield no longer exists and I kept quiet to avoid any lingering trouble. I’ve survived with small solo jobs since then. This is my first big contract on my own. I was lucky to get it without connections or much of a reputation. I hope the Prince isn’t as foolish as he is noble… or we’ll all end up dead, not just the mercenaries.”
With that, Trace fell silent and resumed eating. His stew wasn’t quite as good since it had begun to cool. Still, it was better to eat it now and wrap up the bread before it hardened, so he did while keeping his ears open. Surely this mage would have something to say, whether for good or ill.
Artemisia absorbed all Trace had to say in steady silence, moving only to take a drink from her water once in a while. His recollection of that night painted a vivid, even terrifying picture. To come under attack from an unknown, silent foe, vastly more powerful and lethally informed, to understand there was no hope of victory, and to flee while one’s allies were slaughtered by the darkness--it was an almost poetic tragedy.
She did wonder about some of the details the lancer provided, though. North of here, already a northern part of the continent, meant that this couldn’t have happened too far from Cherno Bog. Could her kinsfolk have had any part in that event…? Maybe. Most operations were kept on a need-to-know basis, so she knew nothing about any such activities. It struck her as stupid for anyone from the Coven to conducting such a large-scale assassination so close to home, but its operatives worked in mysterious ways. If it was the Coven’s work, they must have had a good reason. Making a mental note to ask next time she went home, Artemisia hurried to fill the silence that followed Trace’s story.
“How horrible. My heart goes out to you. I can only pray that His Majesty favors you in the future.” Looking down, she speared the last bit of pork and finished it off. She’d hoped -as mentioned earlier when she suggested that he get lunch with her- that he’d be able to inform her about recent events, but now the results of her inquiry left a dark cloud over the lunch table. In this atmosphere, pressing him for more felt inappropriate.
Trace finished his stew and packed his bread and cheese away as he processed Artemisia’s response. Sympathy… she was working in a clinic so being able to express sympathy was not unbelievable… but… it was strange. It felt like she was using it to cover her real thoughts. It didn’t feel like lying though, more like she was using a lesser truth to hide a greater one. Trace had done the same in the past, when it seemed necessary. Well, he had been sharing in the hope of getting information in return. Even this little nibble on his hook was something to work with. But, the time it took might prove more expensive than either of them could afford.
“I appreciate the sentiment.” He said. Clearly, this matter brought him more worry than pain.
He raised his arm to touch the shoulder of a passing serving girl with a hand that held a coin. “Excuse me. Have you heard anything about refugees or rumors from the regions affected by the war?” He asked with a pleasant smile that never touched his eyes.
The serving girl seemed inclined to say something rude initially, until she spotted the glint of the coin. Then she answered that shallow smile with one of her own and apologized for not having heard anything. According to her, the roads had been clear of refugees and there hadn’t been a peep out of anyone who came from that direction. Pocketing the coin and waving prettily, she swished back into her regular work, occasionally evading the wandering hands of the more thirsty patrons.
Trace’s smile died instantly as soon as the serving girl turned away and his eyes swept across the windows to linger on the door. “Silence from a battlefront? Only the dead are silent in war.” He muttered. “This city… it’s gonna burn.” He turned his gaze back to Artemisia and spoke more clearly. “If you want to search for that person, I can take you around some places that aren’t usually open to passers by. This might be the last chance you get to look here.”
The mage gave a nod. “A fine notion. We will proceed shortly. And...I am grateful you told me all that.”
“Don’t mention it.” Trace said as he stood and paid for the meals. It was merely a polite phrase but it seemed to be meant seriously as well. There could be real danger in sharing such stories too casually. Once Artemisia was ready, he led the way. But, his eyes kept moving the whole time, searching for the threat that he knew was there.
Level 5 Tora - (15/50) EXP and Level 4 Poppi - (14/40) EXP Location: hamlet, the Land of Adventure Word Count: 599 @DracoLunaris@Stekkmen
A brief but uncomfortable silence ensued following the pigs' questions. Poppi looked and Tora expectantly, but he said nothing, and neither did Agoston. Bowser ultimately rescued them, however, asking for some sort of drink. The question came out of the blue, making Tora wonder. That phrase typically referred to alcohol, but Bowser didn't seem like the sort of person to be aware of something like that. Regardless, the yellow-haired pig brightened up. “Oh! Thine thirst wouldst be well quenched after a visit to mine storefront. No shop in the Hamlet could boast a better inventory.”
Following that exchange, the Koopa's kid let loose his own barrage of questions. Mayor Truffleston considered each one, rubbing his chin with a trotter. “Whilst thy initial idiom escapeth me, I can tell you that this noble Hamlet hath seen but a few days in these verdant fields. Prior, we lived in a country most dreary and unusual. As for our surroundings, thy eyes hath already lain upon the eastern golden expanse we doth attend. To the south lieth a pristine woodland, shrouded in sublime green. Northeast, if mine memory serveth, featureth a fair basin and sweet-smelling pines before the mountains. East of our esteemed Hamlet thou may discover a vast yellow-green steppe, littered with edged red stone. Beware that place, for a terrifying beast stalketh those hills.”
The other male pig seemed more intent on Junior's last question. “So too did other visitors mention a guild of adventuring, a day and a half gone. We hath no relation to any such institution, yet many are our burdens nonetheless. Thou mayest procure a healthy sum of oincs if thou see fit to lend yon trotters to our aid.”
While the antiquated speech gave him a little trouble at first, Tora knew a quest when he heard one. And of course, he wouldn't be a Nopon if his ears didn't perk up when money was involved. “Meh meh, if piggypons have quests then Tora and Poppi can help!”
Poppi crossed her arms. “Masterpon on tight schedule. Need to finish quests that already open before get more.”
“Er, yes, meh,” he admitted, scratching his head with a wingtip. “Plus, we need beat evil bosses soon as possible. But still,” he turned an excited smile to Truffleston and his friends. “What you need done? Maybe Tora and friends can help on way.”
The hairy-eared pig beamed. “Mine heart doth soar to hear it! Our greatest trouble be a loathsome pack of diminutive green savages, encamped northward. A sound pummeling wouldst rid the Hamlet of their menace.”
As much as Tora wanted to get paid, even that sounded like a substantial detour. They needed to find some way to hunt baurun and get back to Lumbridge soon. Plus, even Bowser couldn't lug that cart around everywhere the group went. Poppi noticed this too, and chose to voice her thoughts. “Will consider. However, folks did not answer one Junior question. Does Hamlet have any hunting gear we can use?”
The pigs looked between each other, questioning in low tones. The shopkeeper ended up answering. “I fear not. Pig appetites be great, yet compunctions be few. Yet, there resteth in the inn a person who may be the solution to thy problem, a sharp-eyed lady together with a great eagle.”
“That just what Tora wanted to hear!” the Nopon explained. “Maybe we can ask for help. Thanks very much, piggypons!” With that, he sprinted toward the building indicated by the shopkeeper, and Poppi followed behind. The pig guards watched them go disapprovingly, silently bemoaning their lack of restraint and manners.
Euden gave Din a nod before picking himself up. Now distant from the fighting, he joined Din as they proceeded back along the shoreline toward the others. His eyes lay upon the fierce duel between Geralt and the pelagic guardian the whole time, watching the brute and the Witcher exchange fierce blows. Even with the man's prowess, the unprepared-for threat and the treacherous arena in which they did battle offered a deadly challenge, but an unexpected miracle presented itself. The very fellow who cowardly fled from the fight to scale the clown house decided to turn back and help, and his intervention from above turned the tide in Geralt's favor. A dropped boat and a thrown shoe paved the way for the eldritch monster's defeat. Euden let out a cheer when he saw the thing fall, hideous even in defeat.
Yet, the battle was not yet won. Whether they had yet to notice or just didn't care, the remaining pelagics fought on. Linkle threw herself into the scrap with bombastic energy. She evaded a fishman's stab before using him as a steppingstone to launch skyward. A deluge of bolts sunk into its scaly skin, eliciting an agonized gurgle before it collapsed. The archeress continued to rain bolts until gravity forced her to land, but her momentum never left her. Gran, meanwhile, fought heroically, yet one look at his fighting style suggested that he typically battled alongside a number of allies. Linkle's help -and distraction- prevented him from being overwhelmed, but already he'd taken a few too many slashes and stabs. His blood flowed freely as he desperately continued to struggle, cutting down pelagic after pelagic.
The situation prompted Din to action. Her magic stretched out across the lake's surface, icing it up, and the wind kicked up by her wings spread the chill even further. Euden, already feeling better from his brief rest, could not afford to hesitate. He leaped from the shore onto the ice, taking a slippery shortcut to reach the frontlines faster. The dancer's Gogoat, meanwhile, returned to her. With a little direction it proved itself an invaluable ally, striking fast with brutally effective attacks before retreating out of range. Enraged strength filled Euden as his blazing sword flashed into pelagic scales, but even then a horrible doubt gnawed at the back of his mind. Even if there weren't that many left, unless he and his allies could annihilate the remaining pelagics now, Gran could take his last blow any second now.
Nero
Location: Charnal Lane, Dead Zone
The group could continue to make preparations all day, but Nero knew that at some point it would just be avoiding the coming fight. They needed to get into gear before they started losing steam. With that in mind, he led the way back up the stairs toward the cathedral plaza, and without reservation strode straight through the arch and into the vast, open area.
A few moments' walking brought him in line with the cathedral's double doors and the gnarled wooden behemoth hunched before them. He gave it plenty of room at first, but knew that ultimately he'd be more effective in melee range. The others had plenty of time to get themselves ready, be it reloading their weapons, setting up turrets, commandeering some of the captive undead, or warming up. After a short while he cracked his neck, then his knuckles, and started walking forward. “Alright, you stinking stack of firewood. Let's see what you've got.”
As if in response, a low moan echoed through the plaza. Whatever it was, the monster started to move, each jerking motion giving a great wooden crack. The pink mist surrounding it dried it up as it stretched, untangled, and stood. A dire red light glowed in its recesses, and when it turned to face its challengers, the Ent unleashed a roar that shook the air itself.
Warning! Miniboss discovered!
In response to the roar, small round hollows dug up from underground and ran to the nearest hero, swinging their little weapons. The Ent, meanwhile, slowly raised a leg before smashing it on the ground. A wave of red energy surged toward Nero across the ground. To avoid it he jumped upward, then again off a conjured midair circle, before unleashing a midair Color Up shot. The bullets entered the Ent with a splash of splinters but no resistance, although they barely seemed to do anything. As he landed, Nero sighed. Even without much evasive or defensive ability, this would be a tough hunk of wood to whittle down.
The Ent lifted its gigantic arms and slammed them down, unleashing a limited-range but omnidirectional wave that rattled the entire plaza.
So we nearly have a balanced group from around the world, just need someone from Lyonesse, Zion, and Dyfed, maybe. For those that I guessed on, mind correcting me if I didn't hit the mark?
As it happens I don't know where Artemisia's swamp is myself. I applied when Sho was still making the world, and just asked that it be put in some mountains somewhere not too far from a fairly large city. It didn't end up getting marked on the map, so all I can do is shrug, really.
Level 5 Tora - (14/50) EXP and Level 4 Poppi - (13/40) EXP Location: Morgensloft Field, the Land of Adventure Word Count: 375 @DracoLunaris@Stekkmen
With Agoston's assistance, the remainder of the gathering went smoothly and quickly, taking only a couple more minutes. By that period's end, enough of the grain lay stacked in Poppi's cart to make a mountain of noodles, and more than likely only the King Koopa himself would be able to haul the overburdened carrier back to Lumbridge in time for dinner. However, the spirit of adventure meant that their trip wasn't over just yet; Poppi's discovery provoked Bowser's interest, and after dusting their hands of chaff and spare grain the party started east toward the settlement the artificial blade claimed to have sighted. Bowser pulled the cart along, clearly not fond of the idea of leaving it where it could be pilfered from.
The hamlet did not prove difficult to find. Shortly past where the swaying golden field ended, a large number of odd buildings stood is close proximity. These houses defied all logic—tall and thin, each seemed barely able to accommodate one person standing up, let alone a family. Between them lay rather picturesque lanes, complete with hedges and trimmed trees, though all less spread-out than one might expect of a town. Tora, hustling behind Bowser as he led the way, was the first to spot one of the hamlet's inhabitants.
His eyes went wide as they laid upon a trio of pigs in the middle of an urgent discussion, standing in front of the spindly, windmill-sized castle that might have marked town center. They stood upright, they walked, they talked, and they wore not just any clothes but fine clothes indeed. For a brief moment the Nopon couldn't believe his eyes, but after a moment he thought better of it. Of all the things he'd seen in this strange new world, civilized swine were practically mundane.
At about that time, the pigs noticed the newcomers too. Most of the townsfolk went about their business while keeping a wary eye on the outsiders, but after brief deliberation these three approached their guests. Bowing, the mustached pig greeted them. “Hail, travelers.I bid thee welcome to mine humble hamlet. I am Truffleston, the mayor. Art thou in search of something, or need thee anything?” As he inquired, nearby guards eyed the strangers cautiously, their axes firm.
The first word out of 6's mouth caused the Tzitzi-Ya-Ku's head to snap his way, orange eyes glaring. It instantly went on alert, stepping away to face the Courier head-on while lowering its own head and tensing its leg muscles. 6, however, displayed no hostility as he grew nearer and nearer. As the seconds passed, it showed no overt sign of attacking, perhaps confused by the human's actions. A high-pitched growl issued from its throat, warning him to get no closer, but the Courier took another step. Immediately the monster's head went up, and the horns on either side of its head started to unfurl. A warning shout echoed from above as a rugged-looking, red-haired man came into view, just in the nick of time. The next instant the reflective membranes of the Tzitzi-Ya-Ku stretched wide, catching the sun and concentrating it into a brain-blastingly bright flash right in the Courier's face.
With a snarl at the incoming Ace Cadet to discourage his intervention, the monster hopped back before launching itself at 6. It lashed out with its legs, the cruel hooked blades on its feet shooting out to cleave flesh from bone.
Nero
Location: Charnal Lane, Dead Zone
You have acquired: Tentacle Spike Organic but not alive -at least, not anymore- it makes for a half-decent mace Bloodwort x2 A tonic made from plants that grow in defiance. Restores a little vitality every second for a minute Bones x9 The remains of the departed, remarkably clean. Their burial appears to incrementally grant one prayer skill Green Herb x4 Native to the Arklay mountains, they boast the ability to incite a brief burst of potent healing, though far more of combined with other herbs Breakfast That smell...that consistency...there's no mistaking that this milk's well past its expiration date. If you don't die drinking (eating?) it, you'll surely come out of the ordeal with a hardier constitution Homeward Bone Bonfires, resting places for lost souls, are fueled by bones of the Undead. In rare cases, the strong urge of their previous owner's to seek respite enchants their bones with a homeward instinct. Returns someone who breaks it to their last established resting place Wooden Board x2 A sturdy length of oak. The sort that might be used to blockade windows during an undead invasion
You have acquired: Reaper A demonic weapon that unleashes a six bolts of hell energy in a tight spread formation per shot. Strong and heavy, and not terribly useful for melee despite the claws. It uses souls for ammunition, with each one granting another burst, but spirits seem to work too. Begins with ten shots. Its shots are neither quite physical nor spiritual, and are thus able to damage entities with an immunity to either.
Notable Spirit Consumed: Suffering Strong resonance has consolidated the transformative power of the consumed spirit into a singular part: the Suffering Arm. Replacing her off hand and its accompanying forearm, it's formed of hardened bone casing and green demonic nanoflesh to form a bulky forearm, oval shield, and clawed hand. On the shield's face is a fanged maw like the Suffering's. It can open to unleash screeches and howls capable of affecting minor undead. It also has a skull-laced tongue inside, and the teeth bear demonic toxins that can mutate minor undead. The Suffering Arm grants three Powers with their own upgrade paths: Vocal Cords, Lash Tongue, and Demon Fangs. Putting points into them will greatly empower their abilities, granting undead control, a highly extendable tentacle lash, and a stronger mutative bite capable of strengthening entities besides undead. The Suffering Arm imparts the weakness Demonic Corruption, which makes the wielder susceptible to dark influence and passively feeds corrupted data from the arm into Blazermate's system, causing intermittent pain and malicious tendencies
Though curious about what exactly the others were doing with the spirits, especially Blazermate as she 'installed' one of the Sufferings to manifest a new left arm from nowhere, Nero did nothing to prevent Nico's van continuing on. It went northward, rumbling across cobblestones toward the graveyard's other side. As it went by the other passive skeleton, he and Nero exchanged evaluating looks. The demon hunter didn't know what to make of these friendly undead, especially the stout one with clothes that could not have possibly been from a human given his proportions. While he looked harmless -lazy even- Nero's instincts told him something wasn't quite right with the guy. Well, whatever. So long as the dead didn't get in his way, he didn't need to pay them any mind.
Toward the northernmost section of the Charnel Lane, the number of reanimated corpses went up, but they presented little obstacle. Those that lacked the self-awareness to get out of the van's way got smacked to the ground and run over by Nico's Minotaur. Shortly afterward, its fender busted through the wrought-iron gates. Beyond lay a small brick lot with a couple benches, a trash can, and no discernible purpose. Its three walls and small staircase, however, left no avenue for the van to continue onward. “Aw, crap,” the driver observed. “Looks like y'all gonna head up there on foot.” The stairs accommodated the elevation change to the higher ground the cathedral rested upon as it overlooked graveyard and Empty Space alike. Even from this poor angle, everyone could clearly see the giant Qliphoth root extending upward from the great church's roof. There was in one corner of the lot an open sewer grate, perhaps the way by which the skeletons came.
Nero's boots hit the ground, and he slammed the van door behind him. “Fine by me. You should head somewhere safe. Well, safer.” Ignoring him, Nico reclined herself into a relaxed position. A sigh escaped Nero as he took the steps two at a time, and after a moment he emerged onto a parking lot between the stairs and the cathedral. It opened up into an enormous roundabout plaza, circled by buildings on all sides not bordering the void. He took one step beyond the elaborate archway leading to the stairs before shrinking back with a cautionary hand behind him to warn against the others forging ahead. “Wait a minute, hang on.”
Something was up with the place. Boughs of dark wood with branches of red leaves extended from most of the buildings, wrapping in and out of them, reaching into the air and ground. A number of zombies, many still moving, were impaled or trapped among the foliage. This eerie plantlife matched that of the deadwood crater, which the heroes had avoided, but this time there appeared to be something too big to avoid.
Leaning against the giant double doors of the cathedral was a hulking mass of gnarled wood, garbed in a soft pink mist. It might have been mistakable for another piece of the scenery if it wasn't moving ever so slightly. Its exact form was difficult to determine in that position, but a menacing air wafted from it nonetheless. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be aware of the intruders just yet.
“If you need to heal or rest, do it now,” Nero advised. “V must be around here somewhere. If he isn't trapped by that thing, we'll at least get his attention. We're taking that thing down next.”
Rad-alos! Thank you! I've moved it over. Just letting you know I tacked on a 3rd kindred spirit in the form of the Guildmarm.
Actually, we've already encountered the Guildmarm in Lumbridge, so that's probably a wasted slot. Plus, I allow players to edit their kindred spirits until one of them appears in the story, so that would mean you couldn't even change the other two. Feel free to replace that kindred with another, and I'll go ahead and PM you in the meantime.
In the wake of the blistering wind, Gran -the boy gripped by Linkle to avoid flying into the drink- yanked his sword free from the wooden walkway. He gave an agreeable nod to the archer, seemingly glad to have been of help, before turning his attention to the waters once again. Euden's efforts provided a brief respite, but the pelagics would not remain below for long. The boy in question, however, fell toward those perilous waters headfirst, awake but unable to stop his fall. Gran reached out a helpless hand, but Din leaped into action. The dancer pumped her wings and shot out over the open water. She caught him with her legs and continued onward, which seemed to fluster the lad despite a heroic effort to keep his composure. “Ah. Thank you very much,” he said, remarkably deadpan and proper. In a few moments the pair landed on the far shore, distant from danger but out of the fight even as it began anew.
Even without direction, the Gogoat managed to cut an impressive figure. Its Horn Leeches pierced the pelagics' scales with unusual efficiency, proving to the keen observer that puncturing worked far better than slicing. However, it could only rely on its instincts with its trainer so far away, and thus continued to harry the fishmen nearest the land as they reemerged.
As Phoenix made his escape, evading chucked spears as he made his way upward, the pelagic guardian moved in. With his current physical ability, the monster grew closer faster than he climbed higher, but just before it could slice his ankle open with its cestus a barbed taunt drew its ire. Frothing, the creature turned about to face Geralt, whose silver blade was bared. Phoenix ascended out of its reach, hastened upward by pelagic spears, but the guardian no longer seemed to care. A hideous, guttural sputtering noise resounded from its gullet as it beat its shield with its cestus, crimson eyes filled with murderous intent.
BA-BOOM!
Two bomb arrows struck it square in the face and blew up together, staggering the sputtering fiend. Behind Linkle and Geralt, pelagics rose from the water once again, a good eleven or twelve more ready to tear the heroes a new one with only Gran to hold them off. The rabbit-eared girl had dealt their boss a hefty blow, however, leaving the Witcher a golden opportunity to start the hunt.
Donnie and Nero
Word Count: 1621 EXP: (23/30) + 3 = 26/30 Location: Charnel Lane, Dead Zone
"GRRGH...RAAAGH...URGH...AAAAAAAAGH...." That was a rough approximation of Donnie grunting, straining, and half-yelling with exertion as he attempted to push a Class B motorhome up a cliff, from over the edge, by hand. The Disc was helping the logistical side of things, but whenever Nero's grip faltered, he had to also remember to stop the Disc's movement to accordingly to prevent himself from getting squished.
Yes, he was in peak physical condition for a human, and yes, a superhumanly-strong person was helping pull the van up the cliff from the other end, but that didn't mean that this wasn't the biggest workout he'd gotten all year. And that included the bigger missions with twenty-four other adventurers!
But eventually, the van made it up the other side. Donnie fell backwards on the Disc, too overexerted to really do anything as he absentmindedly commanded the platform drop on the ground next to the van with him on it.
"Hey...Nero..." he said as he panted and gasped for air. "These guys"--he took in a deep breath--"are just minions, I think." He sat up, his breathing becoming more relaxed. "I think we might be under-gunned. With those four kids in the fancy car, I thought we might have had enough people, but those idiots ran ahead without us, charged in swinging against a threat they were not equipped to fight, and left as soon as they realized they couldn't solo the Qliphoth."
He pointed to the teleporter. "So now we're down four people. I think we need backup. Lots of backup. I've got some more people I can call on the other end of the teleporter, but they're all on their own missions and you said we're meeting someone named V. If those two demons gave us that much trouble, I figure you probably already had allies in mind. If you do have your own backup, you think that'll be enough with the talking skeleton over there?" he said, finishing his statement by pointing to Mr. Bones.
Nero heaved a ragged side. His focus made it clear that he wanted anything but to be sitting on the sidelines, having a chat while his muscles ached, but he needed time to recover. In a coarse voice, he told Donnie, “Problem’s not too few fighters, it’s too many. Gettin’ in each others’ way, not working together. Nico doesn’t usually hang ‘round with me while I work, and for good reason. Protecting’s a hell of a lot harder than hunting, and you can’t do both at once.” Reaching down, he selected the last arm off of the magazine that hung on his waist, another Gerbera. It socketed in nice and neat, a few jolts coming off it as it came to life. A deep breath, in and out. “Some problems can’t be solved by throwing more people at ‘em, Handlebar,” he said. “Should have left this to me. Let’s clean up here and find V at that cathedral.”
“Fair point,” Donnie said as he recovered enough that he could push himself to his feet. “We weren’t exactly a well-oiled machine back there. Oh, by the way, I cured Gene. Found something off the Tank, a little black stone that redirected a curse onto itself, and I guess whatever he caught behaved like one. It broke in the process though.”
Then Donnie realized in shock that Gene might have used the van’s shower. And then decided to bring it up to Nero later when the demon was dead.
He offered a hand to Nero. “Anyway, you ready to kill that big demon over there?”
Nero snorted and stood up himself. “Past ready.”
Donnie chuckled as he retracted his hand and unsheathed his weapons before rocketing into battle against the Suffering. He coordinated his assault with Gene’s Shockwave, delivering a Blackout Kick to the side of its head as he passed by (after the shockwave hit it of course), following up with an attempt to cut a nice, wide gash into its giant upper-left arm muscles on the next pass. If he did this right, he’d be out of its reach before it even knew what hit it, while it would be bleeding from a spot that most certainly had a lot of blood vessels to drain.
The impromptu double attack struck the enraged Suffering head-on. First came a point-blank crack of lightning, stunning the demon in its tracks and frying its foul flesh. As the brute struggled to keep itself upright, the second part of the one-two punch hit home, with Donnie’s foot cracking the skulls lining its head before the monk ploughed a wide furrow into its arm. Unholy ichor spattered onto the burial grounds as the Suffering rolled over sideways. Temporarily immobilized and with a guard wide open--Nero could not have asked for a better shot.
His Blue Rose unleashed a charged shot with a brilliant blue flash, and two bullets whizzed between Gene and Donnie to bury themselves in the Suffering’s head, sending skull shards flying. The ravenous bullets tore through the demon, snaking through its body on their own, piercing organs as they carved twin tunnels of agony. Two more fully charged shots joined the party as Nero strode forward, gun arm extended. While the damage done by his shots couldn’t be seen, the monster reeled in pain, barely able to move. And still, Blazermate’s sentry needled it, just about ready to run out of ammo.
Donnie alighted next to the fallen beast as he got off the Disc. Its head was exposed and wide open, and the skulls it used as armor were already cracked. Excellent. Time to make its day even worse.
He raised his leg in a complete 90-degree split, filling it with chi and bringing it down onto its skull-covered cranium with enough force to completely shatter what was left of the macabre shell, exposing its bloodied-up mottled green flesh for the world to see. The force of the impact shattered its teeth, lacerating the inside of its mouth and causing it to bleed profusely from its gaping maw. He sliced a few times at the bloody skin and muscle for good measure, more for catharsis after it made him lift up that godsdamned van more than anything else.
Then came the van.
Without a moment’s notice Nico’s van careened into the Suffering from the front. The other heroes could scarcely get out of the way in time before the stone-breaking front of the Minotaur reduced the compromised beast to demon mulch and bone dust.
After a few bumps the vehicle came to a halt, and a breathless holler echoed from the driver’s seat. “Whooooooooowee! Howja like that, li’l bitch?” The bits beneath -and clinging to- her tires began to turn to ash, and a Suffering spirit drifted out from under the chassis. That made two, though a number of undead remained in addition to the stumbling reanimated corpses. The aggressive ones that remained lost the green luster in their eyes, and started mindlessly ambling toward the heroes to be cut down.
One particular undead, however, walking right up. Though a perfectly white skeleton, he moved naturally, and his blue eyes held the twinkle of humanity. “Whoa!” he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice as he tried to break the ice. “Amazin’ job there, y’all.” He gave a thumbs-up before crossing his arms. “I’m, uh, Mr. Bones. Good to meet ya.” A thousand or so feet to the north, the other skeleton lounged against a headstone with a casual grin, uninterested in meeting the new arrivals.
“I don’t know, I wouldn’t discount your role. Those lightning bolts were handy. And the name’s Donnie.” He held out a hand for the skeleton to shake. He knew undead well, and it was pretty obvious that Mr. Bones was the “non-mindless” kind. It would be good to have someone who knew the area well, but it would be up to Nero to decide if Mr. Bones was going to stay...assuming he even wanted to go through this entire trip in the first place.
Bones took the offered hand. “Huh,” he said. “I knew you were good folks.” After shaking, he ended up scratching the back of his head. “Well, uh, hate to bail on ya but I gotta find this dirtbag called DaGoulian. I’ll see y’all around.”
“Uh...before you go…” Donnie said before Mr. Bones left. “A fair number of us are new to the Dead Zone, and since you live here, do you mind giving us the lay of the land? You’re clearly here, so I figured you might know if there’s any more people we can talk to in this region for supplies or information, you know, that sort of stuff.”
The monk’s skeletal acquaintance shook his head. “Ain’t a lot of dead with their wits left about ‘em. I’m new in the city myself...Dead Zone, you said? Heh. Haven’t really mapped the place. It’s just too dangerous, and I’m not even alive. We came by the Cathedral, barely got around this freaky horse monster. If you’re headed up there, be careful.”
Walking by, Nero smirked. “Just our luck.” A bang rang out as he plugged a zombie with the Blue Rose, after which he hopped inside the van as it started to roll. “Take care yourself, Bones.” Miraculously the demon hunter seemed well, which explained his eagerness to move on. The others, even Jak, could either keep up, pile in, or fall behind.
“See you around,” Donnie said to the skeleton as he scooped up the Disc, grabbed the Suffering Spirits, and jumped into the van. He held up the Spirits, asking the others as the Van started moving, “Hey, anyone want those demons’ Spirits? They could make good equipment.”
Name: Ace Cadet Also Known as: Excitable A-Lister Game Origin: Monster Hunter Series Appearance:Whoop!
Personality: A rambunctious, enthusiastic young man who seems to have a penchant for running head first into danger. Despite this, he's actually quite good at his job! He is friendly with a sense of humor that expresses itself through puns. He isn't afraid to try something new. He tends to crush easily - and hard on pretty women, but instead of just talking to them, he goes out of his way to impress them with feats. Not exactly a brainiac, but he is resourceful and does his best work as part of a team. His goofball attitude led many to underestimate him despite his incredible prowess as a hunter of monsters.
Background: This young man was one of the youngest known Guild Knights when he was recruited into the Ace Hunters and given the title of Ace Cadet. The "Guild" being the Hunter's Guild - the largest central organization in the universe of Monster Hunter, a plane of existence in which the world is inhabited by two main groups: large, violent monsters and those that hunt them. Their goal is not to exterminate all monsters, but to enable people to live alongside them without being destroyed themselves. Not everyone in this world is cut out for hunting of course, but those that are do it very well.
The Ace Cadet was taken under the Ace Commander's wing, learning how to master multiple different weapons, hunting styles, and contraptions. Apparently, he had a great knack for it. He served as a member of the Ace Hunters with the Commander and two others: the Ace Lancer and Ace Gunner, both veterans compared to the Cadet. This team of four was a specialist group deployed for various missions on behalf of the guild, traveling to many different regions and cities in the world and gaining experience, always looking forward to the next discovery. The work of a Guild Knight was similar to that of common hunters in that they partook in large monster hunts, but they also handled a number of different responsibilities. Protecting settlements, hunting down poachers and criminals, and dedicated research into unknown phenomena were some of the tasks the Knights - and as such, the Ace Hunters - were expected to carry out.
Eventually the team meet with a caravan that had run into an unknown monster able to spread an also unknown virus. A lot of things happened! Working together with the caravan's hunter, the Ace Hunters tracked down the monster, Gore Magala, learned disturbing truths about it, protected the city of Dundorma from elder dragon attacks, and escorted the caravan hunter to her final conflict with the now adult Magala.
After these events, some time passed where the Ace Cadet seemed to grow out of his master's shadow just a little bit. He made more of a name for himself, and when the Guild asked for volunteers to travel to "The New World" on an exploration mission as a member of the Fifth Fleet, he was quick to jump at the chance. He spent another exciting time with the members of the Fleet, studying many new monsters and preventing the disastrous consequences of the dragon Zorah Magdaros reaching the inside of a location known as the Everstream. Though the hero if his journey was ultimate the Firth Fleet's Sapphire Star, the Cadet is no less optimistic about the future of his adventures. Shortly after peace in Astera, another series of strange occurrences led to the discovery of an icy island... On the morning of the Fleet's proposed trek to this island, the Ace Cadet instead awoke under Galeem's influence, in yet another "new world."
Specialty: All-Rounder
Ace Cadet's ability to change his weapon and fighting style as needed, combined with his ability to quickly and accurately construct traps and other items, lends the hunter well to a back-up fighter that makes up for whatever his current group lacks.
Level: 1 Experience: 0/10 Powers:
Strong Physique
The people that choose a life of hunting monsters are enhanced humans (or other races), able to lift more weight and take more punishment than normal people. The Ace Cadet can easily heft iron great swords larger than he is, is more resistant to mortal wounds, and has a speedier recovery rate than your typical human.
Strengths:
Team Player - Ace Cadet is more than used to working in a team, and he won't argue or pitch a fit when given directions by anyone, even someone lower ranking than himself.
Crafty - Ace Cadet is good with his hands, and can create or combine items quickly and easily if he's been shown how to do it at least once before. His items may be made of strange ingredients, but they get the job done. Fish + berry = bullet, right?
Adaptable - Back home, Ace Cadet was able to seamlessly switch weapons or fighting style depending on what the situation called for. There may be some initial confusion, but he is pretty quick to adapt to changes and unexpected situations which keeps him from panicking.
Weaknesses:
Collector - Ace Cadet will absolutely stop and pick up every little shiny rock, insect or interesting item he sees. This can led to slowing groups down or even worse - getting separated.
Show Off - Is that a pretty girl over there? If a girl is watching (or even if there isn't but he thinks the story might make it back to one), Ace Cadet will go out of his way to use flashy moves or finder larger, more dangerous prey to impress them. The consequences of this are obvious.
Overeager - Similar to the above, though more concerned with getting himself into danger rather than escalating the already present danger. Ace Cadet will jump at the chance for adventure even before any strategy is thought out, sometimes rushing ahead of his allies or enacting a plan without any testing first.
Spirits:
n/a
Kindred Spirits:
Ace Commander (Monster Hunter) - Cadet's master and leader of his former team. The Commander was not the first to notice Cadet's unique ability to handle any weapon given to him, but he was the first to make use of it, recruiting him as a Guild Knight and member of the Ace Hunters. They have fought side by side many times and Cadet looks up to him.
Primrose (Octopath Traveler) - A beautiful, mysterious woman with dark hair and a beauty mark. She reminds him of Sophia the Guildmarm, one of his hardest crushes ever. Both women aren't afraid to face monsters either, though Primrose's monsters take a much different form...
Gathering Pouch, for holding anything found in the field.
Hope you don't mind another potential new-comer so soon! I just read Oasis' sheet and kiiiiinda reconsidering my character since they fill pretty much the same role, but... maybe they might make a fun team? Let me know if there are any errors or things I should change! I tried condensing the background down as much as possible while still covering all the bases.
Ooh, that's a fun pick. Your sheet looks great, so go ahead and port him over to the Characters tab. Once you do, I'll send you a PM with pertinent information. Perhaps I'll even make it a three-way between the two of us and Oasis.
Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.
Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Current GM of World of Light. When it comes to writing, there's nothing I love more than imagination, engagement, and commitment. I'm always open to talk, suggestion, criticism, and collaboration. While I try to be as obliging, helpful, and courteous as possible, I have very little sympathy for ghosts, and anyone who'd like to string me along. Straightforwardness is all I ask for.<br><br>Looking for more personal details? I'm just some dude from the American south; software development is my job but games, writing, and trying to help others enjoy life are my passions. Been RPing for over a decade, starting waaaay back with humble beginnings on the Spore forum, so I know a thing or two, though I won't pretend to be an expert. If you're down for some fun, let's make something spectacular together.</div>
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