Hisir Namedene
Determined to avoid having to deal with any more trouble from local law enforcement, Hisir bolts into the woods and away from the approaching threat...
By chance, the Chosen One runs into his group of frantic fugitive followers just as they are preparing to cut their losses and make a run for it.
"Where the bloody hell have you been!?" one of them questions upon noticing Hisir. "We've gotta get outta here NOW! In a few seconds the cops are gonna be swarming all over this place!!"
The Moderator(s)
After giving the Moderator a brief look of concern, the figure offers what little advice it can to help the Chosen One escape his dire predicament:
"As I said, the consequences of each participant's choices are theirs to deal with, and at this point, it goes without saying that several of the personal choices you've made have led to you getting quite thoroughly screwed over in a remarkably short amount of time.
In the end, it will be your personal choices alone that determine whether you will recover from these hardships, so please forgive what limited help these words may be...
Now, assuming that your foes do not simply decide to informally execute you in your current vulnerable state, I regret to say that, unless you can pull off some miraculous feat of badassery the likes of which would impress even one such as I, in order to stay alive long enough to break free from their custody...again, you have little option other than to swallow your pride and give them your full, unconditional cooperation in an effort to try and convince them that you're still worth keeping around.
Because of the tremendous mess you and your planeswalking friend over there created at Black Maple, the Canadian government will almost certainly now view you as more trouble than you're worth, especially when they still have your far more manageable past-self to rely on to get what they want. Unfortunately, because past-Moderator isn't technically a Chosen One, he would not be able to assume your place in the trial should you end up meeting an untimely demise. Therefore, it is absolutely essential that, before anything else, you do whatever is necessary to ensure your continued survival."The figure stops and thinks for a moment, before continuing,
"I suppose while you're here you could also try reaching out to someone else for more direct assistance. Just make sure that, should you choose do so, this individual's intervention will actually improve your situation this time."
Jorn Darkmane
((Random Fun Fact: Google Chrome's built-in spell-checker mistakes the name 'Yxchuithiatkxcli' as a misspelling of 'Huitzilopotchli'; a name belonging to the Aztec god of war, sacrifice, and the Sun.))
With all the force it can possibly muster within an instant of colliding with the ground, Yxchuithiatkxcli drives its hooves into the old, weathered asphalt of the main street below. The demon's impact creates a small crater in the center of the road, and sends deep cracks shooting throughout the ground in all directions.
Having made a less-than-subtle arrival to the quiet settlement, Jorn quickly dismounts his minion and takes a good look around the area for a suitable place to hunker down for an indefinite period of time, while the now very weary Yxchuithiatkxcli slumps down as it slowly folds back its wings, exhausted from the taxing flight.
Not far off to the southwest, the Chosen One spots what appears to be an old but sturdy-looking barn. Such a large and spacious structure could relatively easily be made into a comfortable Base of Operations with the potential to last well into the foreseeable future. Yet disappointingly, the property on which the barn sits also holds a well-maintained and clearly occupied home, where it can be assumed the current owners of the property reside. Owners who, in all likelihood, wouldn't take very kindly to having a filthy, homeless warlock and his unruly demonic minions stay as guests on their land.
Then again...the barn doesn't
look like it really gets much use, and it
is a good distance away from the home itself, so sneaking in and setting up shop
could still be possible. That is, if Jorn would be willing to take such a risk.
If not, another, much less appealing option lies a little ways to the north; a small, run-down house (frankly, 'hovel' would probably be a much more accurate way to describe it), partially hidden by the long-untended foliage that surrounds it. The only residents the Chosen One would potentially have to worry about while moving into such an ill-kept dwelling would be stray animals and/or squatters, though neither would likely be very hard to get rid of with an easily angered, fire-breathing demon at one's disposal...
Before Jorn can decide on either option, a very troubling realization suddenly comes upon him: His boggart is nowhere to be found, and he doesn't recall seeing it hitch a ride with him back to Gadsden atop Yxchuithiatkxcli. Come to think of it, he hasn't noticed the little bugger messing about since he sat down to start work on his spellbook...this could be problem.
Sir Havel the Unyielding
((Nah, you're good. In fact, the great scarcity of updates due to general time-consuming shenanigans in my personal life means it's only been about 35 minutes of in-game time since Havel was last mentioned, so you really haven't missed all that much.))
Resolute in his mission to locate and eliminate at least one of the jungle's (presumably) many bandit encampments, Sir Havel continues to trek fearlessly through the immense Peruvian wilderness. For although he is largely uncertain of his exact position within said wilderness, or exactly where it is he will end up, his trust in the lunar goddess as well as his own immeasurable wisdom assures him that he is headed in the right direction. It is merely a matter time before the knight of stone is presented with the grand opportunity of confronting the very worst this untamed land has to offer...
Estimated time passed: 15 minutes.
14:35 remain.
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Topic: Slaves to DZA: God of Everything: Chapter I: The Chosen Ones: Day 2 (Read 92334 times)