Bounty Link: Right here There was something different about Pormont this summer day. It wasn't the cool breeze that blew in from the eastward sea side, chilling the air slightly and removing the harsh bite of the summer sun's heat. Nice though it was, of course. Nor was it the crisp smell of fruit on the vine, coming in rich and vibrant on those very same winds from the orchards and vineyards that existed in this region. Those were perhaps his favorite part of Pormont, and he had already decided to save up for a winery with Roland one day, if land ever became available for purchase outside of Stokbon. But the smell was nothing new; it was a consistent delight. Looking out across the fields and distant hills that made up the region, past the gnoll encampments far off in the distance, to the large monster flower that was dragging a corpse into the base structure of its roots and violently implanting itself in the body to feed off of it, he carefully investigated the area. "I've got it!" He decided at last, slamming a fist into a palm as if struck by inspiration. Pointing in the distance, past the giant and very new plant monster that did a fantastic improvisation of Audrey Two, was a windmill that he had not seen before. "It looks like the NPCs set up a windmill in the area, probably to grind grain to make their bread. Fee fi fo fum, blood of an Englishman, and all that bit. Do you think their bread would be any good? This isn't really honey farming land, nor sugarcane, so it wouldn't be that sweet. Maybe a sourdough or... hmm. Anyway, what's up with this thing?" he asked, finally gesturing to the giant plant monster which roared in their direction. He gave it an ugly look, insulted at how rude it was being, then stretched and removed his weapons as he inspected the surrounding area for any additional danger. Apparently some men in robes that just screamed 'hug me!' were running their way, hands radiating a sort of... absence, was the best way he could describe it. Whatever it was it did not look fun, and with a shrug and a grunt he gestured at the large plant with his rusted hammer, while pointing at Roland with his totally not a table leg and most definitely a real mace. "You've got the sheers so you get Audrey Two. Go be a good housewife and tend to the gardening while I meet up with my friends... and go clubbing." Smiling, he swung the weapons in hand reflexively, then started to charge at the three mages which were approaching them. The first rule of combat was, and always would be, geek the mage. You did not let the cleric live past the first round of attacks. You never let the DPS asshole or the buff / debuff guy survive contact intact. It was the simple way of things that they were expected to keep their distance, and he was expected to gain ground and eventually clobber them to death. But they... weren't keeping their distance. In fact they were still running right at him. What the hell was going on? Perhaps they were part of some suicide cult, he mused silently within his own head, rushing towards the first and slamming him directly in the stomach with the table leg. The man's war cry turned into a sharp gasp of pain and surprise as he doubled over in pain, the wind knocked out of him, rolling over onto his side while the others tried to catch up. Raising his club to finish the job, a second roar from the Admiral distracted him and he turned to see how well Roland was faring against the creature... only to see the cloud of green something spreading outwards in all directions. Too late. Before he could think to react to it, the cloud washed over him and past him, causing him to drop his weapons and fall into a fit of heavy coughing. The mages began coughing too, which was a small blessing, as he picked up his weapons and focused his attention once more on the nerds he had to beat. It took a moment to realize it, but his first step had been... unenthusiastic. What had been meant as a battle charge to wrap this whole easy massacre up turned instead into a weak limp forward. The next was a struggle still, worse even than before, as though his strength had been drained from him. There was no pain, and a glance at his statuses showed he was not poisoned, paralyzed, crippled, or losing anything. But still his body became less and less responsive, until at last he fell over backwards and stared up at the sky with eyes stuck wide opened, even the capacity to blink suddenly removed. Panic began to engulf his mind as, out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the mages begin to recover themselves. What the fuck was going on?! There wasn't even screaming for help, or using the UI to call Roland over! Thrown die: 62 +20
Whatever was happening with Roland on his end of things, he could not sense and lacked the strength to turn and see. His eyes were wide and rolling in a panic, like an animal caught in a snare, kicking and screaming to escape its miserable fate. Only the Admiral could not kick, could not scream, could not do anything of any except watch and worry as his mind sunk into a panic at this new condition which her health and status did not register. The dark mages arrived, shaking their heads and looking about, until they spotted him laying on the ground for them as a readied sacrifice. He saw twisted faces turn upwards like jovial jackals about to dig into their still living feast, and his fear surmounted still as one produced a wicked looking blade from beneath his dark and flowing robes. It was long and obsidian, with a demonic face chiseled into the pommel as decoration, and a single large marble of glass placed in demon's mouth. The dark caster dropped to his knees beside the Admiral and raised it high, then let out a soft sob or misery from his own smiling lips before plunging it, deep, into the Admiral's stomach. Blood began to pool up around the blade as it stood like a tower on the glittering fields of chain mail that lay over his stomach; easy protection against swiping claws or blades, but almost useless against a thrusting point or the head of hailing arrows. The ringlets began one by one to become individual pools of ichor as the Admiral's life blood seeped up into one, then the next, filling them like so many dark chalice that the cultists could drink from. And they did, as the wicked caster leaned down and began licking at the chained links, tasting the blood on his tongue and shuddering from head and shoulders down to his fingers and toes, quaking in a euphoria the Admiral could not and would not try to understand. A second of the dark mages arrived and, seeing this, produced his own knife which he implanted beside its cousin blade. If he had been able to sob the Admiral would have, but instead the high intensity pain threshold he kept the game on worked to strain his mind as the second blade bit deeply into him and another crazed wizard began slurping at his blood. Where was Roland? What was that man up to? Had he been similarly paralyzed and then eaten by the enormous plant, perhaps? Or was he able to escape that fate and overcome whatever darkness had infected the Admiral and left him crippled so. If he was... the bardic man hoped his compatriot would quickly come to his aid. Especially with the third dark mage approaching in a slow and predatory manner, circling around the hillside slowly as they investigated the Admiral just laying there for them, not so peacefully, entirely at their disposal. He drew his own black knife and gave a soft almost child like laugh as he approached, kneeling beside the Admiral's head and looking down at the scruffy man with insanity in his eyes and madness on his lips. The blade moved, slowly, methodically, down towards the bard's skin as his eyes jumped from his injured stomach to the newcomer's weapon and it dawned on him what the mage intended to do. He was going to slit the Admiral's throat in a coup de gras. Rage boiled up inside of the bard's body as he thought about these freaks just... taking him quietly into that good night! He wanted nothing more than to pick up his hammer and smack the man in the head, to crush that stupid smile-frown right off of his insane face. He did. The hammer swung up and made contact suddenly, the non player character's health dropping instantly to zero as they slumped over, horribly dead, from a critical hit that sent their skull caving backwards into their brain. Whatever lethargy had claimed them, their anger at the situation had woken them up from it. The Admiral glanced at the other two mages who seemed more disrupted than worried, like cats who would abandon a food bowl because somebody was pestering their meal... knowing they'd return to it later. As the Admiral thought about the crippling wave that had stunned him it came again, but he fought it back with anger once more and, pushing thoughts of fear far from his mind, smacked the two dark mages away. Gasping, he pulled the two knives from out of his gut and tossed them to the ground, glaring hatred down at the dark mages. It was time to finish them off and send their souls to whatever hell they served. Thrown die: 17 +20 119/420
Roland stood unmoving for a long period of time, seemingly watching the events unfold in front of him. It was odd for the man not to suddenly jump into the fray without abandon and yet all he did was stand there casting a blank stare at Admiral's back as he was toyed with by the mages. The moment Admiral brought down his weapon upon the dark mage's head Roland let out a long incomprehensible shout like that of a strangled deer before falling to the ground limp. Wordlessly, he stood up groaning in a rage filled fashion as he clumsily unsheathed his two blades. Slowly he began to shamble forward towards Admiral, eyes glowing a deep hue of crimson as he dragged his sword alongside of him leaving a long divet in the earth as he passed. As he drew ever closer to The Admiral his motions became less haphazard and more agile, breaking into a slow sprint. Likewise his emotions seemed to come from confused to enraged as his eyesight locked in on the man with the two clubs. “Zeeis zu glotarh!” he screamed as he wheeled towards the man flicking his right wrist and sending his blade towards his direction. As this occurred a new figure would appear from behind, cloaked in an ever growing red mist. “It’s a shame you managed to break the other’s control.” He said in a monotone voice that would make one question if he was in control of himself, “but it seems I have gained the stronger of the two of you. Shame you will have to die. You would have made a good tool.” As the man continued to monologue, Roland would jump back and forth into combat with the admiral attacking with both swords. However, as Admiral would soon realize, Roland was not fighting at his full abilities his speed and strength equal to roughly half of what he’d otherwise be capable of. Unbeknownst to Admiral, Roland would struggle against the mage's control. Thrown die: 97 +40 256/420
The pain persisted, but so did his anger, and that helped immeasurably when it came to overcoming the despair inducing miasma of the strange plant that sat nearby. A glance in its direction revealed that the enormous fly trap was still alive and kicking rather viciously, Roland standing nearby and finally snapping from whatever horrible visions HE had been witnessing. There was no time to muse over the various hells that Roland had been forced to endure however, for the issue of dark mages lingered heavily nearby. With two of the mages remaining, the berserker bard rushed forth and began to lay into each of them. The fight should probably have been much more severe, but mages were notoriously frail things. In particular were emaciated little cultists whose main diet seemed to consist of blood that they licked off of people, and whatever crazy bullshit they'd swallowed in the first place to wind up in their little sect. The universal law of fantasy applied, regardless, however. It was a rule written in stone, known to even a babe, for it was totally natural and instinctive. That divine and unbreakable rule was: geek the mage. Snarling, the Admiral swung hammer and club down upon each of the men, listening to their bodies crack and crumble beneath the onslaught of destructive force. Neither seemed to have the clarity of mind to counter with their foul magics, and both fell quickly into crumpled heaps upon the hillside. Turning to watch Roland fight... some sort of Mount Dew Red Mist commercial motherfucker, the Admiral snorted in confused amusement before deciding that Roland had it well enough under control. Focusing instead on the large and vicious looking plant that still occupied some prime plant real estate, he gave a whoop of a war cry and rushed at the thing, immediately regretting it as its vines started to beat the ever loving fuck out of him. Still, what little armor he had, combined with the tenacity of his swings, kept him toe to toe with the large monstrosity of a ficus. Thrown die: 18 +20 294/420
Deep within the recesses of Roland's mind, he struggled for control. Standing in a nearly pitch black room, Roland held no memory of how he got there. Rather, one moment he was walking somewhere....then he had appeared here. Where-ever "here" was that is. When he had awoken he had stumbled around for what seemed like hours, but he never really felt like he was getting anywhere. He had just about given up, retiring to the floor for a breather when "It" showed up. He couldn't really see what "IT" was, but he had heard it groaning in the distance suddenly, and sprang up to investigate. Only to be met with the cold steel biting into his shoulder, sending him stumbling backward. With no light to go by, Roland was forced to defend himself purely by the sound of scraping metal against the floor everytime It moved near him. Relying on his guard mastery he was able to thrust, and flourish his blade in wide arcs to deflect incoming attacks, but after some time he had begun to grow tired. "This.. huff...huff.. isn't working" As he spoke another errant strike came his way, slicing through his right arm, sending one of his blades clanging to the ground. Roland roared in pain as he backed away. He didn't dare fish for the weapon in the dark like this, as it didn't seem his opponent was blinded as much as he was. He was backed into a metaphorical wall; a real one would be great he could at least rest against something. The only real option he had was forward, "Damn it..." Roland growled as he suddenly lunged forward, slashing wildly into the darkness, "If I can just hit it...!" Meanwhile... Roland's body was out of control slashing and thrusting its blades at the admiral, somehow the man seemed not even to notice, instead focusing on the other inhabitants of the immediate area. Roland would be confused if he were in control, but the man surrounded by the red mist, seemed quite content by the ongoing events, cackling in evil laughter. Thrown die: 91 +40 425/420
Roland surged forward with a howl, screaming, "AAHHHHHH!" His blade struck true, tearing through the shadowed enemy with relative ease. In fact the lack of contact, caused Roland to stumble forward falling into the shadow that was if it were still there. For reasons unknown Roland had been teleported into a random field outside of the shadowed place he had once been. Confused, Roland looked around, "What the hell is going on here?" he asked. He saw Admiral who, for lack of better words, looked worse for wear. As well as at least three different mages, and a hand full of some evil plant like creatures from little shop of horror. It seemed Admiral had decided to take on all of them, and it was not going well. Luckily for Roland his sudden appearance seemed to stun the lot of them. "How!" a voice called out from the side of him, "You should be well underneath my control!" Roland turned a hateful gaze in his direction, "So you're the one I have to blame for that little excursion?" he said blood boiling. Teeth clenched Roland ripped forward towards the man, brandishing his primary sword in an small arc before lopping it at the man's neck. The hit struck cleanly removing it from the man's shoulders where it then fell and rolled on the ground. This seemed to knock the other mages out cold, falling to the ground in slumps. Roland would later learn that after they had been killed by the admiral they were used as puppets by the mage in the red mist. For now, Roland shot a glance at Admiral, he seemed to still be standing, distracting the plant with a hail of blows. Grinning, Roland wheeled around the large plant monster and thrust his remaining sword into its roots, causing a roar of pain from the Alraune as it struggled to turn its attack in his direction. The plant wouldn’t have time to do so, as Roland then began chopping at its roots killing the awful thing thoroughly. Taking a moment to catch his breath Roland quipped, “What the hell just happened?” Thrown die: 57 +40 522/420
