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Post by Kidney on Apr 4, 2018 20:57:49 GMT -8
~The Weald~
It was a long road. An endless, expanding dirt road reaching farther and farther into the dreaded woods the group now walked through. The trees on either side of them reached up into the sky, but a collection of branches hung low, forming an arch-like canopy, and with the torches the group carried, the bright light created a bubble-like effect on the surroundings. Ahead lay only a path, the path to redemption.
-Roard-
Steps farther, farther into madness.
Roard carried his blade in one hand, and a map in the other. The paper fluttered in the slight breeze, and after a brief scuffle against the wind, Roard was able to read it effectively enough to stop. He was in front, so he expected the others to stop with him. He stared at the paper before looking off the side of the road, and there, beyond the treeline, was an opening. It was the tunnel, supposedly found, and within, the fungi they were searching for. Roard took a step off the road, using a massive arm to bend a branch out of the way. He stared again at the tunnel.
Near it was a cart, filled with various mining equipment, most of them broken. Off to the side? A single pickaxe leaned against the rock. Other than that, the dark expanse of the tunnel seemed to be the only other thing to look at. Roard looked back at his friends, hopefully, they had followed him in this small venture off the road. "There it is. We found it."
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Post by Unter on Apr 7, 2018 1:00:08 GMT -8
They went out of the Hamlet. A few peons looked at them with fearful eyes. Or maybe, with pity. It was as though they were venturing into hell itself. Eyes were a mirror of the soul, those were surely whelps who cowered underneath their betters. Francois will be different.
They followed a sinuous road, littered with dead leaves, dead plants and sometimes dead bandits. Good riddance. They were already looted however, nothing good will come out of their pockets. The Crusader didn't really like pillaging the corpse of the fallen, but in this Light-forsaken place, they had to lose their purity to attain greatness. The forest was disturbingly silent. It was weird. The few forest Francois had visited were noisy : Birds chirping, the crunch of good soil crumbling under the boots of the Righteous, and a nice wind flowing through the verdant leaves. But here, there was nothing. The birds left this awful place, leaving the vines ridden branches empty. The soil felt empty of all life, a sandy mush shy of all nutrients. And an awkward silent brushed the rotten leaves of this place.
And as they penetrated deeply into the Weald, mushrooms started to appear, somewhat randomly on the fallen trees. Francois were happy that they all bore torches. Roard took a good care of supplying this party well. Good. One less thing to do. Sunlight struggle to tresspass in this shadowy place. But it didn't matter. Roard stopped near a tunnel entrance. The fungi must be abundant, in there. But it made Francois uneasy. He had no idea of what they would encounter in there. And he was getting pretty claustrophobic, sometimes. His long blade could struggle in these tight quarters. He could still bash some heads with his shields. He spoke for the first time since they departed.
"And so Roard of Badger's Cross. Before we head into the depths of this swamp, I want to ask you something. What do you think we will encounter in this blighted land ? Bandits ? Unholy beasts ?"
That would be all. Francois was getting ready to get in the tunnel.
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Post by Boo Ghostie on Apr 10, 2018 19:24:14 GMT -8
Flynn hummed an aimless tune as the duo trekked alongside their newfound allies. All whilst Roland maintained a stoic march through the fungal infested forestry, his armor clanking with every step. A clear dichotomy between the two longstanding friends. In fact this kind of wilderness would appear like a fitting place of residence for the likes of the bounty hunter. However his chipper disposition had slowly faded the deeper the party traversed into the blighted heap that is the Weald.
"Hopefully bandits," The ruffian piped up in an attempt to steel his own mind with tasteless conversation, "Could use more notches under my belt. Severed heads for everyone, eh Roland?"
The penitent crusader merely shook his head at Flynn's jests, with a fine mix of both disapproval and somber amusement.
"Oh come now, let me 'ave me spiel. We've been trekkin' for ages!" The lad continued to speak as he shined his torch through the tunnel's entrance, "Anyways, I'd actually bet on bandits. If I were ta' run a band o' brigands. Then 'at tunnel would make a mighty fine hideout. All nice n' tucked in deep inside 'is bloody pisshole."
The bounty hunter guided Roland by the shoulder for him to take the lead. Simply going by logic to allow the more armored members first. All whilst Roland shined his torch through the tunnel's entrance. Hoping to get a better view of whatever lurks within the darkened corridors.
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Post by Kidney on Apr 10, 2018 19:34:50 GMT -8
The tunnel, the possibility. Perhaps Roard could be cured.
The possibility leaped like a rabid dog, and Roard tucked the map beneath his chest plate and shifted to look at the tunnel that may contain the very materials required to save his life. The determination sat in his gut like a weight onto reality, keeping him tethered to the lust of life he once made ready at the cottage in Poland. Along with pie. Gods, Roard wanted to make a pie again.
He turned to Francois, with a look of dissatisfaction and doubt, for he did not know what laid ahead for the party, so he turned, and spoke over his shoulder as he followed behind Roland. "Both, I would assume."
~The Weald~
Within the entrance to the tunnel was nothing, although the dryness of the soil suggested this tunnel was older than it seemed. Beyond the entrance lie a blank expanse, although a bit of a steep decline, opening wider about six feet down, becoming quite the large hole. The ground of said hole was well traveled, obvious bootprints leaving and entering, although they seemed older in age.
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Post by Unter on Apr 13, 2018 12:01:14 GMT -8
Francois agreed with the others. Bandits would be preferable. The tunnel surely didn't seem inviting. The forest pressed on them like a mill, and the Knight didn't like that one bit. Maybe going to the tunnel would solve it.
"All right. Let's not tatter here any longer. Let's go."
He entered the shadowy tunnel, his torch dispersing a light of salvation and hope in the fleeing darkness. A good omen. For now.
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Post by Boo Ghostie on Apr 18, 2018 8:44:59 GMT -8
The two followed in suit. Lifting their torches aloft to help traverse their darkened surroundings. The sound of clanking armor resonating from their somber crusader, with Flynn's chain dangled and rang right behind him.
"So, we 'ave a point o' reference fer' this bloody hunt? Or is this a bloody wild goose chase?" The bounty hunter piped up, wishing to clarify the details of the mission.
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Post by Kidney on Apr 19, 2018 14:22:08 GMT -8
~The Weald~
The increased light did nothing but simply illuminate various already-seen objects, but as the party crept deeper into the tunnel, the widening stopped, and off to the side sat a ruined table, covered in various instruments of alchemy. Upon its flat surface sat one unbroken, although cracked, bottle. Inside sat a small layer of dirt, and a single blue mushroom. The stem was thin, the cap was wide, like the underside of a bowl.
-Roard-
Roard pointed aggressively at the bottle, seeing it glow fondly in the dark. "I believe that is the kind we are looking for."
He spoke in a croaking tone, as the suffocating air began to interfere with his natural calmness and altogether slow and deep breaths.
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Post by Unter on Apr 22, 2018 12:00:11 GMT -8
Francois didn't even bother to examine the Table. It was probably heresy, manipulating substances with this light forsaken Alchemy, handling this under the Light was unforgivable. But they were indeed in a light forsaken place, and a small mushroom wouldn't damn their souls. And so instead, the Crusader posted himself near the exit, torch cast onward to spread the light in a corner of safety. He would surely see it if anything would come this way. But they must make haste. If they were lucky, they could gather these mushrooms and leave without even seeing something move.
"Allright, but be quick about it. We need to keep moving." he said to Roard, obviously not wanting to spend a moment more than needed here.
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Post by Boo Ghostie on May 2, 2018 6:45:11 GMT -8
Flynn threw hesitation straight out the window as he approached the table. Swiping the glowing bottle as he looked over at the group, casually stuffing it into his rucksack. "Alright, job done! Let's get paid, drinks are on me."
However as he turned around to make way for the exit, he looked back at the alchemy table. With an uncontrollable urge to exercise his fingers. The bounty hunter returned to the alchemy table and began to pluck up the different assortments of alchemical instruments. All while humming innocently. If he were to return home, he may as well come back with a bit extra to pawn off to the blokes of science.
The lad then looked up, only to see the stoic visage of Roland just staring blankly at him. Silently judging him for his greed fueled kleptomania. "What? Come on they ain't usin' this anymore!"
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Post by Kidney on May 2, 2018 11:07:08 GMT -8
Roard turned, eyes widening as he felt a sharp pain in his lower back. He coughed, back tweaking as he grasped at what appeared to be a crossbow bolt in his back. He gripped it, twisting the shaft, breaking it in half as he turned towards the source. A single man.
The Weald-
The man was small, hefting a light crossbow, and as he eyed the Leper and the Crusader in the doorway of the tunnel, he whistled. From the treeline, 3 others came forward, one was tall, weilding the largest flail any of them had ever seen. The other two tapped twin shortswords together, smiling.
Thugs.
Roard-
He slowly advanced, hefting his mighty blade into position, standing side by side with Francios. “Flynn.” He spoke, a warning as well as a threat for absence in the fight while playing with the table. He looked to Francois and Roland, “Gentlemen.”
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Post by Unter on May 5, 2018 13:07:54 GMT -8
Adrenaline surged through Francois as he sighted the fiendish bandits preparing for their last fight. He talked softly :
"They come."
He embraced a fighting stance, shield first in front of him and blade bared.
"They shall fall under our righteous blow ! O Light ! May my heart be true and may my blade find my ennemies' !"
He didn't even check his back, answering the call of arms, and he charged alone without waiting for Roard's support. They would be cleaned in righteous fury.
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Post by Boo Ghostie on May 10, 2018 23:50:46 GMT -8
Flynn tapped Roland on the shoulder garnering his attention. With a silent nod the crusader unslung his fusil, handing it over to his comrade. Their wordless coordination clearly defining the bond between these two allies.
The stoic crusader took up arms, kite shield held aloft in front with his sword arm pinned behind. "I am wrath. I am steel. I am the mercy of angels." Roland muttered out as the two began to march forward. With Flynn on his rear with fusil in tow. Mimicking an actual combat formation.
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Post by Kidney on May 11, 2018 16:06:01 GMT -8
-Thugs-
The first movements were swift, a single bolt rocketing towards Roard, flying past him and into the soft soil between his legs. The small crossbowman slipped behind the gigantic, rotund thug wielding a flail. He took a step forward, spinning the chain-apparatus-thing in a circular motion. He coughed and waited.
The twin swordsman, as Roland and Co. as well as Francois noticed, ran forward, but split, forking around the "formation" before zooming back towards the two, attempting to flank them both with an uppercut gouge. The blades swung forth, but both of them missed the mark, but only one seemed to fall forward farther than necessary, nearly tumbling into Roland's side. The other dodged back, meaning to slice Flynn on the backhand swing of his blade.
-Roard-
A single man, with a jeering child behind.
A single, solemn grunt escaped Roard as he fought the urge to roar, swinging the gigantic sword forward, a cleaver of the air and of wheat, and possibly flesh in a moment. The sword was long, but even the Thug in front of Roard escaped somewhat from it, only being caught by a single slice across the arm, only cleaving fat.
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Post by Unter on May 21, 2018 13:30:01 GMT -8
The bandits were utter fools. They just ran past him ! Francois would ignore them, surely his compagnions could dispatch of this rabble with thorough determination ! Surely, they wouldn't scatter away as the grain does before the scythe ! No, they were The Flame ! And they were invincible ! The feel of battle boiled his blood, his arms shivered with anticipation and he couldn't do anything but shout :
"I FEAR NO EVIL, FOR I AM FEAR INCARNATE !" soon followed by a thunderous war cry.
He attacked the hulking bandit, wanting to incapacitate him before he could swing his mighty flail. The crossbowman could wait. His trustworthy shield would lead the way.
By the light and his hope of salvation, he would prevail !
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Post by Kidney on Jun 4, 2018 10:56:44 GMT -8
The entirety of the expedition went smoothly, as both the martial prowess of Francois and Roland as well as the intelligence of Flynn and the power of Roard made quick work of the bandits. On the bodies, Rolan and Flynn found what appeared to be small censers of burnt blue fungi, and on the large thug's body, Roard and Francois found pieces of the blue fungi stuffed into bite marks and scratches underneath bandages.
Among the tent found nearby, Roard snuck away a half-filled bag of flour and a half-loaf of bread. Francois found letters to other bandits in the area, check-ins, mostly.
On the way home, Roard removed the arrow from his chest and now heads for the Tavern. Flynn and Roland received little to no injuries aside from a few bumps and bruises. Francois, after being hit by a glancing chain on the flail, has a cut on his forearm.
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