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

Cedar was not amused, and doubly so at expending energy only to have the dodgy bastard just float a smidge higher to miss the vines.

As the lumbering imbecile approached, he slipped the pilfered kukri out of his belt, palmed the handle 'fight-style' in one hand while holding the vine still in the other, then waited for the inevitable attempted tackle.

As the moron lunged, he instead dodged to the side, swung his weight against the vine to close back behind the bludgeoned mass of bloody streaks that called itself Ragnar the red, pulling the vine tight in the process like a rope, then quickly wrapping it around him, all in the same movement, before bringing the blade down hard across the back of the man's neck, then kicking him in the butt toward the window he had slung mud through earlier.

"I AINT GOT TIME FER YA DUMB BULLSHIT. FUCKOFF."

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

If it were possible for Cedar to get more angry, it wasnt possible for his features to convey it.

Shortly after plastering the rampaging nitwit through the window, his senses keened from far overhead. Some powerful magic was being used up there and it was definitely the accursed, and hideously dressed poseur of a wizard-- and ENTIRELY too high up.

"STOP FUCKIN' AROUND IN 'ERE! I THINK DA FUCKIN' KOOK IS GETTIN AWAY! --FLOATIN' OFF DA DAMN ROOF! GIT YER SORRY ARSES OUT 'ERE!"

He roared through the window, before storming as fast as he could away from the wall, and toward the circle of greenery surrounding the keep.

A tiny glimmering speck to his spell-modified senses indicated the wizard, working some diabolical spell.

"GIT YER ARSES OUT'ERE RIGHT FUCKIN' NAOW! 'AT SUM'BITCH GUNNA DO SUMMIN' NASTY A'FUCK TA DA WHOLE PLACE! AIN'T GOT TIME FER AT FUCKIN' SKINJOB IN'ERE! OUT AFORES YAS GITS BLASTED!"

He grabbed the closest bit of verdant geen vine he could reach, completely heedless of the thorns it bore. There wasn't time. He could feel the stored mana coiled up inside his little garden, like a snake ready to strike.

'Not tudday, ya floatin', pig fuckin'..'

He tapped into the store, then directed the growth up the side of the building in an interwoven torrent of greenery. In moments, it raced up the walls, then overgrew the battlement just beneath the floating wizard.

It was running near empty as it finished the encasement, but that wizard could NOT be allowed to escape.

Not today.

Not ever.

He sucked in a deep breath, then funnelled in his own powers, hoping he'd have enough to reach that cocky little shit's feet without overdoing it, then sent the interwoven mass of greenery higher still, weaving and darting over and through itself for support as it climbed...

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

The mischievous grin quickly turned into a snarl, though the difference may have been hard to detect, aside from some furrowing between the eyes, and the ears going flat.

Why was it nobody listened to him?

He looked around irritably looking for something, anything concrete to contribute to this predicament.

The bucket illusion had been singularly effective, for however long it lasted, which gave him an idea.

Hurriedly, he dropped the piss soaked curtain to the ground, then furiously heaped it full of dirt and mud mixed with wads of grass from the ground, bundled it up like a sling, backed away from the window to get room to whirl around, Began whirling, then yelled through the window:

"Hey fuck'r! CATCH!"

A split second later, he released one side of the curtain, discharging the contents through the window toward his target.

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

Making a second pass along the outside of the keep, monitoring the growth of his latest handiwork, the sounds of fighting erupted from the desecrated first floor dining hall, followed by a loud rhythmic banging.

"... the hells 'em kids a doin' in'ere .." the bear grumbled irritably. Saying he was 'put out' by all this was a gross understatement; while he did his best to be chipper and jovial most of the time, he HAD inherited more than just a little of his dad's crude and volatile temperament-- being tortured with food, then being made a mockery of by planting him in it, then being tossed like a sack of manure, then forcing him to have to wear his own piss to evade having his lungs seared, then being nearly blasted by friendly fire had left him more than just a little cross, and the absurd and persistent clanging mixed with the shouts and screams of the villagers to the south had him in a rather foul mood indeed.

He looked in through one of the fouled windows and saw that thuggish brute still swinging in there, with a bucket on his head with a seemingly animated hammer drumming on it, making a terrible racket. It *WAS* a humorous spectacle, but he was so over this guy.

Then he remembered the diabolical thought he had intended for the muscle-bound
bruiser.

'Hoy!' He shouted in through the window, while ripping the decayed and crispy black vegetation from the opening. "Shove 'at fuck'r o'er dis a way!"

He grinned wickedly, allowing his malign intent to color the expression with a lurid intensity, while beckoning his companions to drive the bastard toward the cleared window.

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

Cedar's eyes went wide for a second, as he took in the 'view'.

The sounds of screaming villagers hit his ears, as the scent of burning wood and vegetation caught his abused nostrils.

Visions of this kind of thing had filled his head when he had innocently asked about 'war' over a month ago.

It was horrifying and sobering at the same time to witness the spectacle here, and a moment of panic gripped him, with the instinctual fear of uncontrolled fire urging him to run, but he stayed his ground.

His eyes darkened and his fur ruffled frighteningly as he barred his fangs instead.

More towns like this-- Towns all over Kinderance, all over Meche, maybe further beyond-- they would ALL burn-- Maybe even the tiny frontier wood cutting town of Mystville... they would ALL burn, if the prince was not collected today.

The revelation and cruel finality of that thought ran through him as hot as the flames lapping up over the walls. The Wizard HAD TO BE STOPPED HERE. TODAY.

Filled with singular dark purpose, he stormed away from the group and around the corner of the building to where he could see all that remained alive of the makeshift planting he had sprouted outside the window.

Blackened husks of dead rose bushes. Cucumber and passion vines clung like zombies to the wall with their roots burned off.

And there in the grass, a tiny flag of greenery hiding in the grass, the sole survivor of the green toxic filth roiling over the windowsill-- the long-grown roots stretching out under the wall to the east, with little bits of top sticking out here and there to catch the sun.

He carefully pulled one of the charred rose bushes up by the roots, careful not to get into that disgusting shit, then snapped off a bit, and started scratching the dirt up with it, drawing a large 'circle' around the entire keep.

That old fucker may have roasted his plants inside that room, be he had not come out with them. That meant he was still inside.

Scratch. Scratch. Claw. dig.

He carefully used the last few bits of his stock, arranging them to greatest possible effect, then tapped in the vine leading in from outside, and kicked off the latest in his series of botanical terror gardens.

He was going to encase the entire keep, from the outside, and infiltrate the windows on all the remaining floors.

That wizard was NOT getting away.

Not today.

Not ever.

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...