Not sure tht was worth waiting for, but oh well. Turn commencing, and a notice.
IMPORTANT: To meet my own expectation of two turns a week, I'll need turns posted in the next 4 days. If you don't post 'em, we'll continue without you.
THE TURN:
Expedition:
The next few days were relatively uneventful, apart from one noticeable event. At one point, as the great road neared the forest, Cullos noticed the guards get edgier and edgier, becoming fidgety, keeping their eyes peeled. It soon emerged that this forest had a fair reputation for being haunted, and for good reason - Shapers and Warlocks, and even a few Feral packs, had taken refuge in the forest over the years, and now it was full of who knows what. The outer edges had Ferals, but everyone agreed that it got worse the farther you went in.
Cullos took note of this, kept an eye on the forest with all the other guards, and continued on. It was evening when he went mad. Screaming nonsense, he threw his slasher to the ground and, drawing his sword, rushed into the underbrush. Only the slightest remnants of survival instinct remained, and, giving only slight attention to possible dangers in the surroundings, he started hacking through the plants, before suddenly he stopped, panting.
Cursing, a few of the guards had followed him, and now angrily demanded what had happened.
"I... don't know"
"This place is dangerous! You crazy or somethin'?"
"...maybe"
"What were you chasing, anyway?"
"A... a knight, a man I've heard of. A man I... knew. But it must've been a ghost, 'cause he's dead. Ignore it. He's gone now, anyway."
Shaking their heads, the guards listened, and said no more. Still, the Expedition was troubed, and no one rested easy until they left the reaches of the Forest. Cullos got no sleep at all.
It was a two days from then, and people had returned to their easy going nature. Jokes were cracked, boasts were made, and only the occassional glance was given to the sides of the road. All that changed when Trap, who had remained strangely cautious throughout, yelled out a warning.
"SHADOWS!"
Cullos was first to react, charging into the fray, screaming.
"LAST MAN STANDING WINS!"
And then, chaos. Without warning, a dozen humanoid shadows, powerful ones, had appeared, and closed the distance to the expedition with ligtning speed. The guards did what they did best, cleaving shadow flesh, but these were no ordinary shadows. They moved with a strange intelligence, and strategy, something beyond the normal shadow's power of reasoning. And they were strong. Very strong. Trap only narrowly evaded evisceration, jumping through space and away from a shadow, while one poor guard was dismembered by three of the beasts. The tide only began to turn when the Ferals, including Theo, jumped into play. When he'd found out what they were doing, and who the expedition had been running from, he'd been more than happy to stick with them, in hopes of revenge. Now that was paying off. He tore through shadowflesh with ease, unaffected by the emotional turmoil they were causing in the humans. All he felt was rage. No paper-thin shadow could scare him.
When the dust settled, the shadows were gone. Everyone had contributed in some way or another, even Joseph, who'd used his new menagerie of animals to attack the creatures from a safe distance. They'd all been injured as well, but apart from two dead guards, both Arcanists, it was nothing the Shapers couldn't heal up. The worst injury, in fact, belonged to the new girl - Alma. She had a gash down one arm, and a nasty burn on her chest. Still, it healed up well enough, and she felt herself better off than the dead.
Sobered, the party continues on, wary of any new, unexpected threats. Amongst all the chaos, no one remembers that the Shadows had been speaking to one another during the battle - something Shadows most definitely couldn't do.
Martin:
His feet hurt. And his stomach. But mainly his feet. He was tired of following the damn map. He'd crossed the border, what, two days ago now? And still nothing. A whole lot of it. He'd been following the damn thing, weaving back and forth in what seemed like a completely arbitrary way, before, finally, he gave up. His map told him that he should be doubling back about now, zigzagging his way westward. Screw that. He could see his next landmark, only half a day's travel away. By his estimates, it'd cut a couple of days off his journey, at least. What was the point? It's not like there was anything out on this forsaken plain anyway.
Famous last words. He'd gone no more than ten minutes off his track when the first Feral appeared. But this was no ordinary Feral. The green skin was obscured, veiled by a coat of grey bristling spikes, almost like fur. If fur was made out of metal. The body was different too - bulkier, more muscular, with stouter legs. Martin gulped, as he saw a spark leap between two spikes, and more Ferals appeared, almost out of nowhere. He was in BIG trouble.
"Human."
Martin started - unlike the sibilant voice of the ordinary Feral, this was deep, ancient... and damn scary.
"Human. You tresspass in our lands. Have you a reason, or shall we eat you now?"
"Wait! I'm sorry! Please don't eat me, I, ah.."
As he raised his hands in a futile gesture of defense, the map slipped from his pocket. Before he could blink, the nearest Feral had pounced, deftly skewering the paper on one claw. However, as it read the map, its entire demeanour changed. The bristling spikes lowered, the muscles loosened. The Feral let out a hoarse bark, and the other Ferals, too, relaxed.
"Most interesting, human. For this, alone, we would grant you safe passage. How, if I may ask, did you come across it?"
Relieved, Martin began to explain his story, starting with his tutorship, and then the kidnapping of Art, and finally his chase, that had led him here. Throughout it all, the Feral gave no indication of his thoughts. He simply stood, and listened.
"Very well. This map, amongst other things, indicates how to pass through Feral territory in such a way as to skirt the clan boundaries, and as such, avoid tresspass. Your 'Link' is well prepared. However, it also, and this is the part I and my brethren are interested in, shows the way to its lair. Recently, we've felt a... disturbance from that place. From their master. Yes, there are more of them, and yes, they have a master. He unsettles us. We wish to destroy him. Whatever 'him' happens to be. Will you help us, human? I tell you now, there will be no reward apart from our aid in rescuing your tutor. Still, that appears to be all you desire. Do we have a deal?"
"...Yes. We do."
"Excellent! My name, human, is Thomas. I was born 400 years ago now, and I haven't felt this excited in years. Soon, we shall destroy a great evil. But first, we must meet with the other clans..."
Woohoo. That wasn't actually that bad, even though a lot happened. Not having to write the same thing five times from different perspectives helps.
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Topic: Changing Lands - A Roleplaying Epic! (Read 13025 times)