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Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

A new set of thumps joined opposite of his, and the somewhat-familiar sound of Yvonne's breathing lockstepped his own.

... THUD. THUD. THUD. ...

The door was resolute. Either its frame was very sturdy, or they had treated the wood with something. It did not look magical; he'd have still detected any magical shenanigans even with the piss soaked curtain draped over him.

Abruptly, the second set of thuds stopped, but he kept hitting for a good two or three more body slams, before he felt something hit him in the back.

Irritated beyond belief, he risked pulling the curtain down enough to see past it and turned his head to look over his shoulder, just in time to see the elf woman with a glowing purple arrow aimed at him.

"AWWW FUCK!" he shouted, before wrapping the curtain back over himself, then falling to the floor and rolling away from the door as hard and fast as he could.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

The bearman stopped dead in his tracks as the glowing tessaract emerged from the vine encased barrier, then bloomed into a slowly spreading vapor that clung in the air.

More unbidden, but potentially useful memories drifted through his head then back out again. He and his dad had been trying to contain and reclaim the 'fungally overgrown' section of their home forest. His dad had warned him about the dangers of inhaling mists and particles, but had offered him one of his shirts, which he had plunked in the nearby stream.

"Don' breath 'at shi' in boy" he had said, while extending the wetted shirt. "Wrap dis 'round ya head, an' breaths through 'at."

The memory left as quickly as it came. The ominous cloud of mist continued to slowly rise into the room, causing the leaves on the vines to wilt almost on contact. He DEFINITELY did not want to breathe that in.

The pulled down curtain adorned the floor under his feet, which he quickly snatched up before scanning the room for something to wet it with. The elf woman's antics with the table had toppled all of the remaining drink decanters onto the floor rendering them useless for the task at hand. He needed something to wet it with, and soon-- As he hurriedly scanned the room, the realization that he had not gone to the little bear's room since Hdur came home to roost. He did not like the idea at all, but it was all he had to work with.

Drawing and huffing an irritated breath, he hiked up the front of his robes, shoved the brilliant red curtain into place with one hand, leaned against the wall with the other, then relieved himself of the fluid fraction of the stew he had ate the previous day, until the curtain was sopping wet, and the pungent odor of "male bear" hit his nose-- which wrinkled at the prospect of what had to come next.

He gave the wad of cloth a momentary queeze to distribute the 'moisture' evenly, paused half a moment, then draped the odorous rag over himself as if it were a table cloth, and he a table. The only thing he could see was red fabric, and the scent of "his own brand" dominated his offended nose.

He growled, then turned toward the barred entrance door, and began to body slam it.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Teeth flashed momentarily as the bearman stifled a snarl. He could feel the green tip of the vine get cut, along with the section that had ensnared the footmen, severed from the roots and cut off from further control. Technically still alive, but wouldnt be for long. It angered him for reasons he did not quite fathom. Some of it the obvious of the work being wasted, but also something else; something he couldn't quite place-- somewhere between the anger he felt when people shot at wild animals for 'sport', and the anger he felt about 'tree poaching'-- anger at the cutting short of new life for stupid reasons. A few seconds passed, as he redirected the growth, slower now, and fueled by a portion of the trickle he had coming in from the outside, up, around, and over the top of the glowing prism the old coot had conjured. Touching the vines seemed to have no discernable effect, and he capitalized on that fact, overgrowing the entire barrier and the back of the room with focused, anger-fueled intent.

satisfied with the work, he guided a thin tendril of the greenbrier 'lifeline' in through the window, then let it wrap gently around his right wrist; loose, new, flexible and smooth, and not yet coated in nasty bristles, before withdrawing the arm from the window.

The flame headed abomination looked like it had seen better days-- crushed in, and getting used as an improvised weapon.

He sipped at the trickle through the vine, redirecting it through the woody growth he had taken to leaning on when he had pulled back from the window, timing it just right to ensnare the tempest at just the right moment to pull it free from the moron's grip. It wouldnt be enough to stop the swing, as it would just pull the vines free from the wall they had spread from, but it WOULD alter the path of the swing, and cause a stagger. Perhaps enough for Veronica to score another hit.

He released both vines, then rummaged in his bag to see what he still had.

Mostly rose seeds; he'd need to replenish his stock after this altercation if he wanted to continue 'being useful'.

He looked around the room, wondering how best to put them to work before noting how scantily clad the juggernaut was..

A wicked and toothy grin spread across his long-muzzled face.

He knew EXACTLY where to put them.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

The hall was in complete pandemonium. Crossbow bolts sung and whizzed past him, as he did his best to hug the wall. The false illusion in the room had not been dispersed, and the soldiers must not have seen him by the window, or they would surely have pincushioned him quite forcefully.

Moments later, the elf woman issued a challenge at the Baron, who was fleeing toward the exit at the back behind the absurdly dressed old man and his one-legged stooge. The man ignored her, seemingly in terror about the threats of the wizard, and very shortly after, she converted him and many of the crossbowmen into steaming piles of shredded meat with more of her explosive arrows.

This was the first time he had ever seen humans being killed like this. He did not like it at all.

(Focus Cedar... Focus!)

He drew on the thin trickle of power he could slurp through the vines he had guided out into the field outside the palisade, then directed it into the rag-tag assemblage of plants he had scratched into the dirt just outside the window; his body still hugging the wall miserably, with his arm stuck out of it-- fingertips barely touching the ground.

A small hedge of sturdy wild roses spread haphazardly as he carefully entwined the root system of the greenbrier with theirs, letting the slow trickle get slowly absorbed by them. They were not the 'best' to use for this-- something sturdier, like a copse of elm trees, with their natural root sharing properties, would have been far superior--- but this is what he had, and it was what he had to work with. Lovely green vines spread out on the courtyard bearing little yellow flowers, and lovely purple ones accompanied them, clinging delicately from the exterior, where they snaked up the wall on either side of the window.

Next, he needed to do something about that stupid old fuck-- who had just backhanded the small fox man like he was nothing. The latter proceeding to unleash a hail of illusory benches at the one legged ruffian still grappling with the flame headed conjuration, then pressing an attack on same...

He was feeling tired-- This much growth magic, this fast, using little more than his own reserves was not a fun experience. ... Especially after having not slept, and having to 'skip' breakfast.

A smouldering ire burned in his belly along with the gnawing hunger-- the audacity of using food in this way! If that old fuck was behind this, he'd get a right whoopin' for sure.

He hoped the little 'insurance' he had just sewn outside would be sufficient to nitpick the old coot while the next phase of his plan slowly wore away the old man's reserves, much as his own were getting drained. With any luck, the old man would pass out first.

He took a deep breath, then took the plunge on enacting that plan--

Grape vines dug deep into the soil, seeking deeper water supplies to use than the shallower rooting plants they were struggling to share with at the surface, then coiled in through the window, up the wall, grappled and sent small streamers down from the ceiling, then coiled down the opposite wall in a wide, diagonally coiling advance up the room, before ducking beneath the table, and resuming the slow circuit, moving steadily toward the exit to the stairs, and the old man at the egress.

He did not have time to waste-- The coiling tendril he was guiding needed to branch out-- fill all the space on the walls, ceiling and floor- leave no gap where any outside energy could get in--

Smaller shoots branched off the sides of the larger one, covering the whole room in green, as the main shoot rapidly grew a thick woody bark as it thickened and fattened under his exertion. The ones near the feet of the remaining foot soldiers slithered like vipers around their feet and legs, continuing their coiling around bodies and arms while they were distracted by the false flying benches soaring at them.

He new better than to try and ensnare the wizard at this time-- He needed to really reinforce and imbue the 'cage' first-- Let the old man think he is not the target by distracting with the hired help first. Let his obvious hubris be his undoing. If he attacked that way first, the old man would likely effortlessly burn the whole room in retaliation, and ruin the entire plan. No, it needed time to work magic in a subtle way like this...

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

This was intolerable. That old man had more magic inside him than should normally be feasible or safe.

(He probably farts actual sparkles.) He grumbled inwardly, as he ripped the curtain down from the window and looked outside, specifically to see how far down the ground was.

Thankfully, being on the ground floor, the window's hight inside was only just a tiny bit different from the height outside: about 3ft-- just barely enough to touch claws on the ground outside. He chuckled-- the old codger wants to use magic indoors does he? Well, two can play that game.

He scooped out a small pinch of what was inside his seed pouch, not having much time to carefully pick and choose, given the escalating chaos going on inside, then bent over as far as he could with his right arm through the window to scratch them in and give them some juice. He'd have to try manually controlling their growth from inside the dining hall, once they were up and through the window.

He doubted his ability to just overpower this old fart. This would be more like trying to overpower his old man back home, and that was like fighting the whole forest at once, the kind of magic his dad could tap into. He was limited here by what his own body could naturally produce in a day, unless he could set up and use a harmonized planting to expand his pool, or set up semi-permanent effects to keep the old bastard busy with.

He grumbled under his breath, and wondered about growing the vines further out, and away from the keep to where he had set up such plantings the night before... it would be tiring to send the vine tendrils that far on his own, but once they were in the right areas, he could tap them through said vines, allowing him to better control them indoors...

Maybe he could weaponize them against the old coot, and just drain the old man's energies directly? Surely he'd have to be overwhelmed other ways first before that could be effective? Maybe different kinds of vine could be leveraged in a makeshift way, without the benefit of better selection or planning?

He had 'cucumbers', 'passion fruit', 'greenbier', grapevine, and 'brier rose bush'.

Cucumber and passion fruit would make a good place to 'dump' magic.. they would bear quickly and prodigiously. Grape and greenbrier were woody.. the latter being weedy and spawling, the former slower growing but tougher and deep rooted... then the rosebushes. Bushy, perennial, woody and resilient. He wished he had some acorns, or some deciduous tree seeds, like elm, hackberry, maple, or locust... ash, or yew would be good too, but he would really have to be outside for that...

His reverie was interrupted by the tempest suddenly getting its ass kicked. Whatever he had to do here, he had to do it quickly.

Maybe if, instead of being carefully planted, the vined could be carefully positioned? Alter the resonance in the room, and passively drain magic outside?

It was worth a shot...

He dumped a nearly unsafe amount into the mix of haphazardly sown seeds, causing a small explosion of greenery to erupt and spread. Roots tangled together haphazardly until he redirected and ordered their growth so they wouldn't compete (as much). Greenbrier roots tunnelled through the ground sending up little leafy stems here and there, before worming underneath the wooden wall of the palisade, and toward the east. That side had the most sunlight this early, and he hoped enough of the harmonized planting remained to tap into... he'd need it to complete this plan without popping a bloodvessel from trying too hard...

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Cedar blinked in confusion as he landed on .. ... something? ... wearing kinderance parade armor. It's head was a glowing orb of mysterious animated fire, and it smelled like something long dead. The implication that this was one of Solomon's abominations danced across his mind riding the scent like a dance partner in a rapid 2-step routine.

"Ya wan' summa dat? He harder'n he looks." He asked cheekily of the newcomer, who responded only with the impression of a 'smile' within the burning radiance that was the 'head', and a deep menacing chuckle. Cedar 'smiled' back, a rather frightful display of jagged and sharp ivory teeth that could easily have been mistaken for a snarl if not for the sparkling of his eyes and the alert and forward posture of his ears.

"Heave-Ho fella!" He chortled, grasping the abomination by the bottom of the breast plate and a pauldron, then 'lance throwing' the creature right into Ragnar the Red's arrogant visage.

He quickly looked around the room to see where he was now.

The mysterious brute of a man had flung him near the door leading in, which was conveniently behind the false wall, and a short distance to the window.

The table was a mess, but several of the beverage ewers were still standing. A man dressed like he shopped at the same store as Flo's brother, and nearly as old as his dad came tottering into view. He had learned from experience with his dad that appearances were deceiving when it came to the 'pulpiness' of such features. Sure, Vanquis was pretty spongy, but his old man was anything but. (Though the latter would only wear a getup like that around the house as lounge-wear.)

The obviousness of his being a magician registered a split-second later.

"Got a crooked ol' conjuror inna room!" he growled, hurriedly casting the well practiced spell to retune his senses to detect magic, while darting for the red linen curtains draped over the tiny window.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

A hulking brute of a man emerged, seemingly unscathed, from the smoke and dust of the explosion.

He was clad in little more than red warpaint and a tatty and stained loincloth, brandishing a rather oversized broad axe. For some reason, seeing an axe rankled Cedar's fur more than it should have, conjuring many memories of having to bludgeon foolish lumberjacks who had set eyes on trees they shouldn't, and bringing memories of his father lecturing him about not killing people, no matter how big of an asshole they are, unless you really and truly mean it.

("No matt'r haow big 'n dumb they is, Ya's big 'nuff ta prolly keel em in one hit if'n ya ain't careful son...")

The memory of that first day helping his dad keep order against 'poachers' strolled through his head completely unbidden.
("I's seen what yas did wit 'at deer 'odder day... Good work 'ere-- Proud a ya...")

He remembered. He had found a deer with an arrow stuck through its hock, where a village hunter had tried to shoot it, but it had bolted at the last minute, getting hit in a non-critical, and escaping with the arrow lodged in. He remembered that he had just learned how to heal injuries from Flo a few days before, and the opportunity to use the magic had been real exciting for him. He had coaxed the frightened and injured beast into letting him treat it, but was unaware his dad had been watching. His ears burned a little in embarrassment at the memory.

("But no ma'aer how good yas gets wit' 'at, no magic in'a worl' kin brings back da dead. Only keels a fucker when yas real damn good & sure. Naow, le's show 'is 'gentleman' da 'error' o' his ways, eh?")

(Only if I really and truly mean it...) he thought to himself.

Silently, he expertly flipped the pole-arm upside down, so that the blunt end was up, then aimed his shot, making a wide and hard sweep across the side and back of the man's knees. The hit had much more resistance than should have been there; like striking a stone that had a thin coating of dirt and moss. Not stopping from the anomalous impact, he continued the motion with full body momentum, whirling then bringing the bladed end down hard over the man's hands and forearms where he has holding the haft of the large axe.

(I can totally fix mangled arms and legs, Dad.) he thought bemusedly to himself, before allowing his momentum to body-check the man into the table.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

"I prefers muh stick, bu' dis'll do. If'n I's gonna do a feller in, it gonna be done like a man. I ain't no beast girl. Ain't ya been payin' attention? I's only half bear."

He gruffed and took position near the wall opposite the others, where he would get full room to swing when cracking heads.

"O'er half's man. Don' be fergittin. We kin talks about it la'er, af'er we kicks sum good-fer-nuthin's butts."

"Naptime's o'er ol' timer. Ya kin sleep when ya dead." He huffed at Reinhold, before gently prodding him in the butt with the point of his new toy.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

Cedar scowled, then turned his head and snorted loudly again, this time discharging the remaining foreign matter discretely at the floor, before examiing the room for items he could improvise into a billy club, or just straight up use.

There were decorative rapiers installed on the wall near some colorful curtains on the other side of the table. There was a long but altogether too thin wooden dowel holding them above the window. It would likely break on the first hit.

He turned his head and looked behind. There was another decorative weapon stand, with several long but dusty pole arms poking out of it, and a lonely kukri knife hanging high above on the wall.

He shoved the bench toward the wall, and claimed the latter two items, leaning on the pole arm like a staff, while tucking the kukri into the belt sash of his robes.

Sovereign's Will: A Fantasy Roleplaying Game. [CONCLUDED]

The bear's head swam, shapes distorted, and the whispers became a deafening cacophony from everywhere and nowhere at once.

Mere moments later, he awoke with a start face-down in the fancy oatmeal he had been served. Lightly salted with butter and honey, with crunchy streusel and black currant jam on top. It had invaded his mouth and nostrils, and had his entire face coated up to his ears, where he had fallen in face first. 500lbs of bear, fallen in, face first.

The table setting was in shambles where the cereal had slopped over the sides from the sudden ursine addition, and plates and cutlery had gone airborne after being catapulted by his left arm slamming down limp on the table beside it.

A section of wall behind bore the remains of a platter of over-easy eggs, their yellow yolks oozing down the plastered edifice, while the nearby tray of thick cut bacon was completely unharmed.

"GUH! NO NONONONO!" Bellowed the bear amid bubbles and a spray of oatmeal, as he fumbled blindly on the table for something to wash the offensive comestibles from his maw and visage. Blindly, he grabbed a ewer at random, and poured the contents, before roaring louder, and much more bear like, as a bright red fruit punch doused him, staining his face bright pink and leaving a terrible mess.

"Guhaaa! NOOOO I' BURNS!" [Roar]

He quickly stood away from the table in a blind stumble, sending the bench backward with a loud scrape, and the table forward with a jostle andvratyle of plates and glasses.

He repeated the desperate, blind clamor at the table, this time successfully obtaining the serving ewer full of water, then vigorously and grotesquely washing his face and mouth out in the poured stream, before ending with a disgustingly strong exhalation through his nostrils that sent trapped oatmeal out in a viscous spray, followed abruptly by a vigorous headshake that sent saliva chasing it afterward in the air.

The horrible spectacle ended just as abruptly, leaving a snot nosed bear with red eyes and stained facial fur boggling and trying hard to remember what the hell had just happened.

Blinking behind very irritated eyes that had just moments before been subjected to a wash with what smelled and tasted like elderberry wine, he examined the toom. The elf woman was looking at him in stark horror, while the sedate doctor solomon merely wiped strewn spittle from the side of his forehead with an amused smirk. Veronica's eyes were glittering black pits, in a stony marble face, festooned with what was probably once oatmeal.

He looked around the table quickly, noting several others face down on their plates.

'So it werent just me' he mused to himself, while still fighting back the panic of near drowning, and resuming the visceral battle of will to avoid returning face down onto the breakfast table.

"Wadda hells jus' happen!?" he bellowed. "I's been tryin' ta FUGGIN AVOID goin's all face-daown in muh damn dinner, an sum sunsabitch goes an' plunks me innit anuhways!? I'll KEEL im! ... ... I gots it up muh damn nose!"

"We noticed."

Veronica's cold deadpan tone could have shattered every goblet at the table.