Two translucent shells formed around Amulak, but against the sheer force of the infernal chopper, they were as effective as glass, shattering into a thousand pieces. Mana Shield, however, was a spell designed for damage reduction, not damage mitigation, and that, combined with Amulak’s END and the passive effect of his Bulwark Boneplate, was enough to reduce the damage taken all the way down to 43, the wicked blade slicing into his right thigh but stopping before it could crack the bone.
“C’mon man! Where’s your footwork?”
There was, of course, no way that the mud-drenched warrior would just retreat after that. In close-quarters, the necromancer simply didn’t have the tools to handle a chopper-swinging maniac. Ames and Klein, in the face of such barbaric violence, was a step too slow to intervene, while Raime, even as the world slowed further with the invocation of his Scout abilities, quickly realized this: he was still fast, but in these desecrated lands, his speed was no longer exceptional. Six slashes scored red lines through the muck, eliciting a holler of excited aggression from the warrior, but did little to stop them from grabbing Amulak by the throat and smashing him against the tunnel wall. It was only common sense, after all, to target the caster, and with all three tanks preoccupied in one fashion or the other, nothing could stop them from doing it two more times for good measure.
By the time the dust settled, there was an Amulak-shaped imprint in the wall, the mage himself having received another 334 damage from the three-hit ‘combo’. Still keeping a hand on Amulak’s throat, the mud-drenched warrior turned to the others, a bright red tongue flicking out to lick away the blood that splattered onto their face.
“And yes, I can fucking talk,” they laughed, sneering at Raime, before addressing the party more broadly. “Now, here I was, thinking y’all were gonna jump me, but now I see only two of you actually tried? Got some drama going on here? Some ‘oh shit, we fucked with the wrong guy’ vibes? What’s the plan, fellas? We gonna keep going til I turn y’all into zombs?”
There was a crash, as Magpie launched herself through the air and…into another wall, narrowly missing Klein and Ames. Self-inflicted damage lowered her HP by a shameful 54 damage, a tragic consequence of having more strength than she knew how to handle.
“And what’s her deal?”
@Shovel@Searat@Psyker Landshark@OwO@Yankee
“Sweet. Let’s see…” Bortz made some finger motions, as if interacting with an invisible screen, and a ‘ping’ sounded in Ari’s head. A new window popped up, a friend request from Bortz. "...there we go!"
Droko raised a brow. “Vator’s not gonna like this.”
But Vator, tragically, wasn’t here.
…
Time passed on.
The sun arced closer to the horizon, dying the sky orange and magenta. Despite the lack of any healer, the trio of frontline combatants made quick work of the few monsters they encountered on the road, while Ari’s support helped patch the gaps that existed due to their lack of ranged attacks and magic as well. Against a giant vulture, the party had to resort to extreme tactics like throwing rocks at it, but other than that particular instance, it was smooth sailing. Long stretches of gently rolling roads, good weather, occasional chatter, and the song of nature made travelling more pleasurable than it seemed. The bodies of the Immortals fatigued at a much slower rate than reality, and the late lunch they had of steamed buns and pickled plums was surprisingly delicious.
It was strange, how even ordinary landscapes, the type that one could’ve seen with just a quick Google search, became something just a little bit special.
By the time the afternoon heat died and the nighttime chills were seeping into the hills, they had arrived at Shin-Jia. Man-Joji, ever willing to dispense knowledge, had spoken of the village as a rustic place, and it was certainly…rustic. Perhaps only fifty people lived in this community of old-timers and children, and the state of the wooden huts that made up most of the homes reflected that. Raised one foot up on wooden platforms, they looked to be a combination of lightweight and easy to repair, though consequently humble in appearance. There was a well that the village was centered around, as well as a river and a couple of gangly livestock that afford Shin-Jia some self-sufficiency, but going by what Man-Joji said, the majority of young adults had simply moved to Nyu-Taro or larger villages to work, occasionally sending money and goods back to their parents and children.
“To conclude,” Man-Joji said, hopping off his carriage and tying the reins to a withered husk of a tree, “Shin-Jia doesn’t have a proper inn, so I’ll be going off to negotiate with the village head for our accommodations. Feel free to take a look around while you wait; I’m sure the children would love to hear some stories.” The merchant paused, then winked. “Just don’t go running off with my wares, ok?”
@GreenGoat
“C’mon man! Where’s your footwork?”
There was, of course, no way that the mud-drenched warrior would just retreat after that. In close-quarters, the necromancer simply didn’t have the tools to handle a chopper-swinging maniac. Ames and Klein, in the face of such barbaric violence, was a step too slow to intervene, while Raime, even as the world slowed further with the invocation of his Scout abilities, quickly realized this: he was still fast, but in these desecrated lands, his speed was no longer exceptional. Six slashes scored red lines through the muck, eliciting a holler of excited aggression from the warrior, but did little to stop them from grabbing Amulak by the throat and smashing him against the tunnel wall. It was only common sense, after all, to target the caster, and with all three tanks preoccupied in one fashion or the other, nothing could stop them from doing it two more times for good measure.
By the time the dust settled, there was an Amulak-shaped imprint in the wall, the mage himself having received another 334 damage from the three-hit ‘combo’. Still keeping a hand on Amulak’s throat, the mud-drenched warrior turned to the others, a bright red tongue flicking out to lick away the blood that splattered onto their face.
“And yes, I can fucking talk,” they laughed, sneering at Raime, before addressing the party more broadly. “Now, here I was, thinking y’all were gonna jump me, but now I see only two of you actually tried? Got some drama going on here? Some ‘oh shit, we fucked with the wrong guy’ vibes? What’s the plan, fellas? We gonna keep going til I turn y’all into zombs?”
There was a crash, as Magpie launched herself through the air and…into another wall, narrowly missing Klein and Ames. Self-inflicted damage lowered her HP by a shameful 54 damage, a tragic consequence of having more strength than she knew how to handle.
“And what’s her deal?”
@Shovel@Searat@Psyker Landshark@OwO@Yankee
“Sweet. Let’s see…” Bortz made some finger motions, as if interacting with an invisible screen, and a ‘ping’ sounded in Ari’s head. A new window popped up, a friend request from Bortz. "...there we go!"
Droko raised a brow. “Vator’s not gonna like this.”
But Vator, tragically, wasn’t here.
…
Time passed on.
The sun arced closer to the horizon, dying the sky orange and magenta. Despite the lack of any healer, the trio of frontline combatants made quick work of the few monsters they encountered on the road, while Ari’s support helped patch the gaps that existed due to their lack of ranged attacks and magic as well. Against a giant vulture, the party had to resort to extreme tactics like throwing rocks at it, but other than that particular instance, it was smooth sailing. Long stretches of gently rolling roads, good weather, occasional chatter, and the song of nature made travelling more pleasurable than it seemed. The bodies of the Immortals fatigued at a much slower rate than reality, and the late lunch they had of steamed buns and pickled plums was surprisingly delicious.
It was strange, how even ordinary landscapes, the type that one could’ve seen with just a quick Google search, became something just a little bit special.
By the time the afternoon heat died and the nighttime chills were seeping into the hills, they had arrived at Shin-Jia. Man-Joji, ever willing to dispense knowledge, had spoken of the village as a rustic place, and it was certainly…rustic. Perhaps only fifty people lived in this community of old-timers and children, and the state of the wooden huts that made up most of the homes reflected that. Raised one foot up on wooden platforms, they looked to be a combination of lightweight and easy to repair, though consequently humble in appearance. There was a well that the village was centered around, as well as a river and a couple of gangly livestock that afford Shin-Jia some self-sufficiency, but going by what Man-Joji said, the majority of young adults had simply moved to Nyu-Taro or larger villages to work, occasionally sending money and goods back to their parents and children.
“To conclude,” Man-Joji said, hopping off his carriage and tying the reins to a withered husk of a tree, “Shin-Jia doesn’t have a proper inn, so I’ll be going off to negotiate with the village head for our accommodations. Feel free to take a look around while you wait; I’m sure the children would love to hear some stories.” The merchant paused, then winked. “Just don’t go running off with my wares, ok?”
@GreenGoat
