|
|
| (4 intermediate revisions by 2 users not shown) |
| Line 1: |
Line 1: |
| − | As pristine as it looks, it's not always the saftest place to be, the Southeast. Still, someone has to spend the time and manpower in finding out whether or not this winding path leads to a safer way to some small village, or instead leads to Certain Despair. Sure, it isn't always a job that earns one lots of appreciation, but it's a living. It is not, however, Deis' living; he's a protector. For the most part, the surprisingly adept young fellow knows the terrain by heart; it's up to others to actually get those paths down on parchment for others' use.
| + | #REDIRECT [[DarkheartOne/IdeaDump]] |
| − | | |
| − | This particular quest has been rather uneventful; the worst that's happened is a run-in with a somewhat aggravated giant beetle protecting its nest; otherwise, it's lush quasi-tropical forest, a high sun... and the road ahead.
| |
| − | | |
| − | ----
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis pauses on the path for a moment, looking back to his charges. "Umm, let's rest here for a moment, while I look ahead for possible dangers, okay?" He wipes a bit of sweat from his forehead, smiling for a brief moment as he awaits an answer.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Said charges are a couple of somewhat experienced trackers from further north; it doesn't take much more than Deis' offer to get them to stop and take a breather. "You'd think it wouldn't be so warm around here. Heh, that's the world for you." "Oi! Don't hog the canteen!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis laughs a bit, rubbing the back of his head "Oh it's not that bad....is it? Well...then again I never really notice the heat." He walks over, taking his own canteen and offering it. "Here, no need to fight over it."
| |
| − | | |
| − | The second tracker, a burly fellow who apparently doesn't need warm weather to start sweating, takes it and helps himself to a sip. "Heh, you try working close to the Air Pole, boyo. Places up there'll freeze your dick off through a foot of fur, easy." "Stiller! Language around the kid," the beefy guy's accomplice snaps, earning him a snort.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis waves it off in a dismissive way "It's okay, honestly, I've heard worse. If you two are ready to continue we can, unless you wanted to stop here for the day"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Stiller apparently decides to test that, until his thinner, taller accomplice slaps his hands over his mouth. "Well, that's fine. But I believe one should avoid those sorts of things early on. Anyway, head on... we'll be fine here." Stiller 'mmmrph's before pulling---"Dammit, Crosby! Your hand smells like fungal rot!"---Crosby's hand off of his mouth.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis laughs quietly to himself "Okay, I'll do just that, but I ask you stay here please." Not waiting for a reply, the young lad begins to trek further into the foilage, occasionally looking back just to make sure they are indeed alright
| |
| − | | |
| − | They are alright, insomuch as a bickering pair of woodsmen can be alright. Thankfully they're not too loud, and in short order they're practically unheard, hidden by the natural sounds of the forest. As for Deis himself, the path is beginning to thin out some, perhaps signalling an upcoming clearing.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis smiles inwardly continuing on "At least they're better than Chisana and her sister... I don't think I've ever blushed that much." He continues on to the clearing, focusing a little more intently, making sure this isn't a den or favorite haunt for some vicious predator, looking for tell tell signs; claw marks and the like.
| |
| − | | |
| − | None of that. It sounds pretty normal... and indeed, things do come to a clearing. High, sparse grass, the occasional tree, and a granite chunk here and there is all that can be seen. Actually, no. There's more; signs of a camp. Burned spots where fires would be, holes in the ground where tent stakes were hammered in... and the unmistakable smell of wasted, cheap ale. As to where the group went, there are tracks leading roughly in Deis' direction, but a bit to his left. Another path, it seems.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis hmms with a grimace. "Wonder where this came from." He ventures further into the clearing, looking around for any signs of life, but not calling out. He pauses about 5 feet from where he entered, his mind still pondering possibilities of who could've been here, before heading back to check on his guests.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Perhaps twenty or so steps back into the actual forest, the snap of a dry twig shuts the forest up for a moment. In that moment, Deis realizes that it wasn't him that did the snapping.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis hmms and turns his head towards the direction he feels the snap came from. "I hope they didn't follow me, that wouldn't do well." He furrows his brow and tries to silently make his way towards the noise.
| |
| − | | |
| − | It's... a bit ahead, and somewhat to his right. He can't quite *see* what it is, but he could cut through a line of trees to get there.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis does just that, grumbling a little to himself as he gets a branch thwapped in his face, continuing on his current course "Just what was that....."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Another snap, followed by a sound of alarm just as the branch hits him in the face. Human alarm. At this point, all sound in the forest dies, replaced by a single shouted command from what might be a woman, if she gargled sand for her entire life. Feet crush twigs and plants alike... all seemingly in the direction of Deis' companions.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis grimaces and stops his attempt at tracking, making a mad dash towards his companions' location. "MR. STILLER! MR CROSBY! RUN!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "We would if we could, boyo! You go, kid! We'll figure something out!" Deis breaks through the brush to find the two trackers effectively in the middle of a brawl; roughly seven or so thugs in camouflaged leathers carrying daggers and small blades. A bit away is the only woman in the group; short, pockmarked and ghoulish, her left forearm's been fitted with a stump blade about the size of a longsword.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis shakes his head, his brow furrowed as he draws his bow on said woman. "Sorry but I can't do that. It's not my nature to leave people when they need help!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | The woman, for her part, looks almost... amused at Deis, giggling harshly as she half-limps over to him; as she moves around the brouhaha (which seems to be at a stalemate for the time being), it's obvious that her she's got a heavy boot fitted over what's probably a missing foot. "... I heard there were some pretty boys here, but you... hehheh. Oi, boys! Finish them fast, then break camp! I think I found us a new toy!" Very, very unwholesome things dance in the light of her eyes as she stalks towards Deis. "Now, be a good little boy and drop your bow."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis grimaces, still keeping the bow trained on her, taking a step back as she nears, occasionally looking around her at his friends
| |
| − | | |
| − | The stalemate is becoming less of one; they're skilled fighters, but they're simply outnumbered. Stiller already looks a bit bloodied, but is still quite active. As for the woman... she snickers. "... go ahead, then. You seem to think you're tough... shoot me. I dare you."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis grits his teeth, not expecting to have his bluff called. He swallows audibly and lets a nocked arrow fly. What looked to be a hobble is suddenly a burst of unexpected speed, and she deflects the arrow aside with her stump-blade. It comes to a quivering rest in a nearby tree... and she claps. Well, she slaps her hand against the flat of her weapon.
| |
| − | | |
| − | "Huh. That actually might've killed me. You're a bad boy..." Her chuckle is nearly as stomach-twisting as the sounds of agony coming from the ring of thugs; Stiller's hurt.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis feels the bile rise in his stomach as the woman says her piece, looking towards the two woodsmen with ever increasing worry, his mind racing on what to do to save them and his self... perhaps, then, it is instinct that makes him reach for and nock a second arrow. Funny, he feels warm, almost as if under the noonday sun. What's odder is the calming roar of a whisper in his ear, as if someone gave the seas a voice.
| |
| − | | |
| − | <i>"It is said that the eclipse is a day of mystery and omen... all that lay in the sky is presented as one. I have searched long for one whose heart has that same gift... Deis Valesti. Release this arrow and claim your destiny. Make this Creation whole again."</i>
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis feels calm, despite all the chaos and pain around him; he takes one last calming breath before nocking another arrow, in an almost leisurely passive fashion, before letting it fly at the wretched women who would shed blood for such petty reasons as material gain.
| |
| − | | |
| − | The arrow <b>screams</b> from his bow, wreathed in gold and leaving a sizzling trail as it tears through the distance between Deis and the woman thug. And through her chest. And through the chest of the closest male thug, from ribcage to ribcage... then the one right next to him. As one, they crumple to the ground, slain in an instant. Time seems to stop in that one moment. All eyes are on the boy---no, the Anathema, his golden brilliance seeming to ignite the immediate area.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis looks at the remaining hoods "I will say this once, and I truly pray you listen well. Leave here now, never return and never cause harm to another. If you refuse, I will regretfully have to stop you here so no others come to harm at your hands." He nocks another arrow, light trailing from it as he takes aim at another thug. "You've honestly nothing to gain here, but much to lose..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Even Stiller and Crosby seem a bit on the frightened side... but the thugs, noting how easily Deis slew three capable men... go to grab their fallen comrades and disperse into the forest. That leaves the trio, Stiller holding a hand to a nasty cut on his side and Crosby looking to be a bit bloodied as well.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis sighs sadly, shaking his head and putting his bow away, walking over to Stiller and Crosby, smiling gently "Let me take a look at that... are you two going to be okay?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | "... I take back everything I said, boy... just don't kill us!" "Stiller, hush! You think he's going to attack us? He just saved our gods-damned lives!" "Are you <b>blind</b>?! Anathema! Right there! A Deceiver, no less!" Stiller withdraws some... but Crosby sighs, submitting to Deis' wishes (and averting his eyes from the nigh-blinding glow).
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis sighs at Stiller "Why would I kill you?" he moves his hand to Crosby, looking over his injuries, debating on how best to handle them--light cuts, mostly. Nothing some stitches, a bit of strong alcohol and time won't fix. Crosby seems... strangely relieved, even smiling a bit. Stiller mutters a curse. "To hell with this... I'll see you back at main camp, Crosby. You're mad to trust that <b>thing</b>." The larger man stomping off, Crosby groans. "Don't mind him."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Deis looks as Stiller goes off as he begins to tend to Crosby "I... really don't know what's happening.....but it seems to have been a good thing since I managed to keep my promise... I'm sure he'll be fine. We're all in shock after this; he just needs to get his thoughts right, is all" He smiles a little as he begins to bandage Crosby
| |
| − | | |
| − | Crosby keeps quiet when it obviously hurts, being quite the trooper. "All I know is that you're supposed to be some kind of legendary evil... thing. I could give ten shits about the Immaculates, though. I owe you alot." He looks at Deis indirectly, occasionally blinking as bits of the boy's anima break off to generate a gleaming golden dove here and there; one lights on his hair before returning to Deis' essence banner. "And... maybe he does."
| |
| − | | |
| − | ----
| |
| − | | |
| − | * Back to [[/RisingForce|Rising Force]]
| |
