Well, it's been ages, but I've finally had the time to sit down and write another section about my turn last April. More coming very soon. Enjoy.
(Also, the latest turns are great! Kudos to the players.) Continued from
here .
Tasked with exterminating a livestock-eating beast, Thone Glenlarks entered the burrow. He was not, in fact, confronted by the huge ravenous skink that had been so vividly described to him. Instead, a stark naked man ran towards him, hurling obscenities from his froth-corrupted mouth. He was evidently mad, but that was only to be expected from someone spending his life alone in a dark hole.
The knife hurtled through the air and hit the madman in the leg, bringing his charge to a halt as he fell to the ground. Thone stepped forward, dagger in hand, and stabbed. The werecreature fell silent.
Thone returned to the hamlet to collect his payment.
As he made for the market, a sudden faint cry came to his ears.
Thone stepped into the hut to investigate. Inside, a man stood over the corpse of a goblin, his knife still caked with fresh blood. The room was cluttered with several objects that struck Thone as dwarven trade goods – mushroom seeds, anvils and bars weren’t things that one would normally find in a peasants’ village. A fresh donkey corpse lay in the centre of the room. Thone glanced at the donkey, then back at the man, noticing the blood smears around his mouth. Well, someone had evidently been thirsty.
The dagger struck swiftly. Thone had not been paid to kill this vampire, but he was certain that his head would fetch a fair price on the market.
Uthra Gladnesscry. Such was the name uttered to Thone as he strode through the marketplace that dawn. The ringleader, it was said, of a gang of bandits which had reportedly been terrorizing the village since the previous century. The bandits called themselves “The Absolute Pots”. Thone allowed himself to momentarily raise an eyebrow before accepting his deposit and setting off towards Primeabyss, the flamboyantly-named and apparently well-known criminal hideout.
As an elf, Thone enjoyed two distinct advantages: supreme stealth and speed as he moved through the undergrowth and animals which had no problem with their necks being broken when he got hungry (as long as he smiled and looked them in the eye while doing so). Whilst the latter was great when it came to preparing dinner, it was the former quality which made Thone successful in combat. An enemy which does not notice you coming tends not to react to a sudden stab in the back, much less when his reaction speed is half your own.
Thus, Thone crept into the camp silently and swiftly. The bandits lay scattered around the area in a loose ring, a single crossbowman standing alone at the south of the camp. From his richly-decorated attire, Thone assumed him to be Uthra. Well, that, and the fact that he kept yelling out his own name like a madman.
Thone darted unseen from tree to tree until he reached the ringleader. Trees. All elves loved trees. Food, shelter and clean air they provided - such was the teaching of the druids, drummed into each elf for the first century of its life.
Thone too loved plants.
They burned well.
Thone ran, the blazing branch bright in his hands, forming an ever-growing ring of burning grass around Uthra. Choking smoke filled the air, followed by the shouts of panicked bandits as they became aware of the blaze. Even as he walked away from the inferno, the screams of a burning man rang in his ears.
Uthra Gladnesscry had been devoured.
Another vampire had been wiped off the face of the world.
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