And the God-King looked down upon His people of the forums, and yea, was well-pleased by their longsuffering. "For thy endless devotion, I shall extend to ye all my grace." Spoketh He from the throne of his computer desk. And as it was spoken, the great update drought was lifted from the thread, and yea, the people of the forums did rejoice. - Slaves 59:14
Sir Havel the Unyielding
Loath to spare his despicable adversaries one shred of mercy, Sir Havel charges forward to meet the speeding jeeps with dauntless ferocity. Aghast, the vehicles' passengers hurriedly respond by peppering him with a spray of bullets, but, tragically for them, to little effect.
Slowing down only at the very last second, the Chosen One braces himself as he catches both jeeps by their front bumpers, stopping each dead in their tracks, then savagely flinging them back end over end. The luckier of the two violently tumbles off to the side some meters away before slowly tipping to a halt, while the other, evidently victim to a much more well-positioned grip, flies several feet clear off the ground and crashes through one of the few surrounding tents the knight was careless enough to leave standing, subsequently bursting into flames moments later.
As he moves in to finish off any possible survivors still inside of the wrecked jeeps, the knight of stone catches in the periphery of his vision a particularly foolish trio of RPG-toting bandits, taking aim at him from what they must be assuming is a safe, secure distance. A most grave mistake indeed.
A mere instant after the small group opens fire, Sir Havel takes off in their direction, deftly dodging their explosive projectiles and closing the distance with a few solid bounds. Leaving them no opportunity for escape or retaliation, the Chosen One assails the young men with a volley of crushing strikes, reducing each in short order to a blood-soaked mess of mangled flesh and bone.
Though beset by constant gunfire, the occasional grenade blast, and all manner of cutting Spanish invective, Sir Havel's murderous determination does not waver; without so much as a small prayer for the young lives thus far extinguished, the towering warrior charges back into the fray, smiting enemy after enemy with cold, brutal efficiency...
While just as barbarous as any chaotic life-or-death conflict is bound to be, the fighting persists for less than half an hour before the frantic screams and incessant attacks of his foes readily fade into a defeated silence; rather than stay and face seemingly unstoppable entity responsible for singlehandedly decimating their numbers and razing their home, the demoralized survivors of Sir Havel's onslaught quickly scatter into the surrounding jungle, leaving him unchallenged as the lone, bloodied victor over what little remains of their ravaged and dead-ridden camp. Better still, despite being grazed, chipped, and riddled with bullets, the only truly substantial injury incurred by the Chosen One throughout the entire battle is the considerable chunk of stone that was blown off his lower left leg by a hand grenade he was a split second too slow in evading.
Displeasingly, just as the triumphant servant of Lunus thinks his work in this area of the Amazon is done, an unexpected sight suggests to him that the land remains yet to be utterly cleansed of human corruption; through the flames of a burning debris heap that once stood as one of the encampment's central huts, Sir Havel spots an old, injured brigand being hastily escorted to the last & only jeep from the convoy not completely totaled in the battle.
It is certainly uncommon to see one in their elder years participating in such a dangerous occupation as banditry, yet he surely must be someone of particular importance if his comrades are risking their own hides in order to save him. Perhaps it would prove a short but worthwhile undertaking to go over and 'inquire' into the matter?
Jorn Darkmane
With no greater wish than to end their dreadful ordeal without any further delay, and no real choice at this point but to rely on the professed powers of their robed guest, the mother & daughter swallow their fear and warily join the Chosen One around the ritual circle for a brief hands-on lesson covering all the fundamentals of demon banishment...
Now,
some people might argue that ghosts and demons are in many ways two distinctly different types of entity, and that the mixing up of their respective banishment rites could very easily beget unwelcome consequences. However, as any
(reckless) adept of the dark arts will surely attest,
those people are obviously much too concerned with petty semantics, and should no doubt leave the
actual banishing to professionals such as Jorn, who fully trusts that the knowledge he has chosen to share will enable his languished hostesses to be an essential help in vanquishing the restless soul for good.
As soon as he is confident in his impromptu assistants' understanding of the ritual, The Chosen One looks to the center of the circle and locks eyes with the entrapped apparition, matching its baleful stare with a menacing gaze of his very own as he once more commences his ominous chanting. Meanwhile, with the warlock's instruction still fresh in their minds, the mother & daughter do their best to follow along, and with a surprising rate of advancement, soon even begin to grow louder and more aggressive in their chanting as each repetition of the occult utterances causes them to feel more comfortable and empowered in the presence of their tormentor...
After roughly ten minutes of impassioned chanting, the reinvigorated ritual circle glows brighter than ever, and the now impenetrably black pillar of smoke spewing up from its center seeks to consume the apparition whole. In spite of hours of vehement struggle, an expression of very mortal dread suddenly creeps across the ghost's frightful visage when, in a moment of dismaying realization, it finds itself no longer able to resist the overwhelming force steadily tearing it away from the Earthly plane. A final, deafening shout echoes furiously throughout the house, before, at long last, all sight of the apparition disappears into the pillar of unworldly smoke.
The three continue to chant until even the faintest lingering essence of the ghost's presence is completely cleared from the residence. And even then, it takes Jorn several more minutes to fully convince the woman and her daughter that it is safe for them to relax and catch their breath. Thanks to the warlock's noble efforts, their strife with the supernatural is over, and the gift of a ghost-free abode may now be enjoyed by all. There does, however, appear to be one more
itsy-bitsy little problem left to deal with before all can truly be considered said & done:
Under most normal(?) circumstances, the banishing circle's bright, hellish glow and big scary smoke pillar would have dissipated shortly following the ritual's completion, leaving behind nothing more than a thin layer of soot and the salt used to create the circle itself. Yet in this case, despite the Chosen One's ultimate success in banishing the restless soul, it would seem the banishing circle is, for some reason, staying just as active as it was during the height of the trio's chanting.
It may not be any hugely dire issue in the long run, but seeing as in this day & age, glowy, smoke-spewing, magical salt circles are generally not regarded as being suitable living room furnishings, allowing it to go untended could be taken as bad guest etiquette.
The Moderator(s)
"Welp, I'm at least happy to say you don't appear to have any ruptured internal organs. Some hairline fracturing of the skull, as well as several pretty nasty rib fractures. Though it doesn't look like any of the bone is at risk of poking anything
really important, so surgery shouldn't be too urgent a priority..." Dr. Weller explains as she helps The Moderator out of the machine and onto his feet. "...Did I ever mention how lucky you are?"
Estimated time passed: 20 minutes.
9:55 remain.
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Topic: Slaves to DZA: God of Everything: Chapter I: The Chosen Ones: Day 2 (Read 93216 times)