PrP: Break The Mold
Log Info
- Title: Break The Mold
- Emitter: Lenore
- Characters: Virton (Art4)* Amythyst (Sor3)* Myaris (Sor3)* Jokul (Ftr5)* Ianga (Pal3)* Ansrir (Pal4)* Tizrazz (Rog2)
- Place: Stillmarsh Farm - Alexandria
- Time: May 7, 2016
- Summary: Spring is a great time to do a little cleaning, maybe clear out the underbrush and other nonsense after the winter storms. Whilst doing some work on a local farm, a group of farmhands ran into a bit of a problem, telling the Adventurer's Guild that the marsh around the area seemed to 'come to life', and the putrid water itself lashed out to attack them as they made attempts at clearing a new path for an intended route of trade from their farm to a nearby hub. They need some help to secure the way.
- APL: 4
- Encounter 1: CR6, 4 Slime Mold, CR8 Young Black Dragon
ST:
It has been such an eventful season for the nation of Alexandros, what with the influx of activity and the swelling malice of the undead over the last several weeks that have terrorised the outlaying communities. In response to this mounting threat, the locals have banded together in an attempt to share their bounties and their griefs, uniting under the pressure of threats that simmer, but never fully still.
With this in mind, a newly established and quickly growing farm has begun trying to forge new, safer paths of travel between the wide-spread villages and other steads that dot a vast countryside, first forging a way through the aptly named Everbog that seperates Stillmarsh Farm from the rest. It is here that we find our adventurous pay-for-slay heroes, sent to meet with the eldest son of the man that originally posted the contract to aid.
"I don't know how else to explain it, really. The water and sludge," Valric speaks, gesturing toward the stagnant waters for which the nearby farm was named, "Rose up as my brothers and I were laying the marsh pads, and staking out the lanterns. My youngest brother, Aderin, it was as though it tried to -eat- him, drag him down, making this awful 'blourp'ing noise!" The early teen seems terribly shaken by the whole ordeal, spurred on by the excitement and confusion he suffered in this place. "And the smell, it's..." He takes a sniff, shaking his head, "I know this place must smell awful to you lot, but we've grown used to it... the rot, the slime, we use it to fertilize the fields. You've never seen anything like it, I promise... why, the pumpkins last harvest were--" His arms are stretched far to the sides, but he looks from person to person as they slowly lower and he clears his throat.
"It, uh, it stunk. Even to us. Choking... dusty? I don't know how to describe it. We pulled Aderin outta there quick fast, but we weren't sure if he was going to make it. He's awful small, and I... I'm not the strongest boy, it took time to get him out, and he couldn't breathe." He shakes his head, heaving a sigh, turning to pace toward the makeshift semi-floating boardwalk that they began laying some days ago, giving it an experimental tap with his booted foot before taking a step onto it.
It's darker here than it was on approach, the foliage lush and succulent, vines and thick webbing seeming to connect the limbs of the enormous trees that loom overhead, blocking out the sun and trapping the sweltering heat that's left to bake the always damp and mossy ground. The smell is a simple displeasure; decay that doesn't harbour the telltale signs of the undead, swamp gasses that churn and burble up from time to time, lending a sulfer taint to the musty surroundings, disturbing the water in a distracting, oft misleading manner that sends shockwave ripples out here and there in false sign of assault.
"Father won't let us go any further until you lot have swept through there. I know he wants to keep us safe, but... this route could mean life or death to the villages beyond -- whether they starve, or just can't get help when they need it, it's... it's our duty to help where we can, right? ... You'll help.... right??"
Amythyst says, "Ugh. Whatever it is...it stinks." Thank you captain obvious.
This announces Amythyst coming close to the cave, and she makes a face....after covering it up. "And I've worked with fish most of my life.""
"Stunk?" the oruch's brows as well climb up into his hairline. "...an worse than a swamp, eh? Well, if it's causin ya troubles, we'll be glad ta check it out." He straightens with a roll of his shoulders, and looks to the others there. "Ianga, of tha clans. I don't claim any in particular right now. I'm more of a student at this point. Military theory, history, all that rot."
Myaris nods her head, "Well that is what we are here for, to help." she says. The hood of her robes is up, better when dealing with villagers, so her features aren't obvious.
"Course, fella." buzzes Virton, who takes the small pipe from the corner of his mouth that normally blows acrid black smoke, and places it in a small pouch on his belt before tugging it zipped shut. "Folks gotta help eachother an' all that business, it just ain't right to leave folks stuck out in the mire when they're tryin' to get a life together for themselves." Speaks the Golem, who trudges after Valric with the soft 'squelch' of his footfalls sinking in a little bit with his steps. He turns his head towards the oruch, and raises a hand to doff an invisible hat with his mechanical fingers. "Virton, fella. Pleasure to meet yer aquaintence." A pause, and he lifts his right foot up where it was sinking in a bit too deep. "Eech. I reckon fella's got the right to live an' work where they want, like, but I ain't gonna be hangin' around here when we're all done. This muck is gettin' into my chassis."
Ansrir nods and smiles as he looks over the others. "We're definately here to help as we can," he offers and nods, "As for the smell, well, that's just nature doing its thing after all. Can't blame that anymore than you can a bear for taking a poop in the woods," he says as he starts to brush at his clothing, trying to keep them as clean of the sludge as he can.
"Well....worse than a swamp usually means something ba....auuuugh." Amythyst says as they near the forest. "Oooookay....it does stink. Thanks for the warning." She says covering her nose. "I don't even think breathing through your mouth will help. This is a stench you can taste."
There, lingering amongst the height of knees and carefully keeping himself upon boulders and stumps (so as not to fall in, see) is a dirty, wretched thing wreathed in tattered black cloth and a hood pulled up so his amber eyes glitter. A hooked nose tilted upwards like a hound gives a deep set of sniffs, as the goblin's yellowed teeth show off in a smile. "It's not -that- bad." The click of something under the cloak as hands move over tools, and such, a gritty growl sounding off as those eyes turn to his hands and things.
"Eh? Now, where'd ya--" starts Ianga. He frowns at the wretched thing, before looking over at the robed woman among them. "Any idea what that is?" he asks her. "It don't look right, and I'm not sure it's nose is workin, either." It does you know, smell.
"I don't think it's too bad either, fella," buzzes Virton to the gobber. He walks with the still constant 'squelch' of his heavy footfalls, body lumbering a bit as he gets himself up onto one of the marsh mats, which sinks just a little before settling up comfortably. He buzzes out a contented sigh, as he no longer has to face the awful threat of sinking into the marsh and probably never being seen again. "Then again, I'm gonna be honest, I don't rightly know how to register them awful smells as disgust and the like, they're just a smell to me." He buzzes. Ah, the life of a golem. "I reckon the farmin' fella was mighty right in his statement bout' fertilizer, I figure I might ask to take a sample back with me, seein' iffin' I can grow anythin' outta it. Might try to make one of them pumpkin pies." He seems to be buzz-rambling to himself out-loud, apparently quite happy to be in company.
Myaris shrugs a bit and just stays quiet for the moment, listening and watching the others for a moment as well as taking a look around them as they go.
ST:
The way this boy is looking at the group, it's probable that they could all be the deepest skinned dark-elf slash marauding hell giant ... thing creature and he'd only be happy for the help. Poor lad's pretty rattled by it all, and though he tries to keep his man-face on for the benefit of the group, and to hide his shame at being unable to protect his little brother, he muscles through, pacing down the floating path they had been laying out.
It's surprisingly sturdy, but with every step it does send ripples scattering over the surface of the water to mesh with those coming from other directions, the sound of footfalls drowning out the burbling, tupperware inspiring freshness toots from low under the surface, adding that delightful stank that clings to clothes and infiltrates the senses until there is only that.
"We really appreciate it, you know. All you guys comin' out here to help people you don't even know. Faraug up the way, for example... he looks rough, but that guy has been working non-stop from the other side. I mean, he looks like..." He takes in a slow breath, then glances toward Ianga, "Well, a bit like you, I guess! But, you seem alright." He slows as he nears where the event occured, all his equipment, the lamps, the posts and more marshmats laid strewn across one of the larger 'islands' that is isolated by the marsh from the mainland.
"... Okay, I'm not allowed to go any further, but here's the place." Up the way is a deeper forest, the vines and moss growing thicker, and the lamps no longer afforded, leaving only the dim insinuation of noon-day light from above, strangled and gasping in its final throes, bleeding through the leaves just enough to stir the humid heat from the damp, putrid earth.
That 'thing' that nobody has seen before, this strangely-resistant little goblin, he might happen to see something; the waters nearby stir, different than before, deliberate, approaching. If he doesn't, the glowing-eyed RoboCowboy certainly does. Behind the party, quite near the young man that's now picking up the remnants of his equipment that he might return at least some of it to a better position, there is something that is creeping its way onto the docklike padding that leads bravely onward, the only road back to what may pass in comparison as civilization.
"Of course, I don't mean any insult, sir. You look ... I mean, you're..." His eyes trail down to Tizrazz, lips pressing to a thin line as he tries to come up with something to say, his brows furrowing, completely unaware of the goopy slime that's hauling its bulbous body onto the mat.
Finally, Myaris' keen elven eyes see it, just as it's about to make a lunge for the boy.
Myaris blinks as she spies the creature about to jump the boy and reacts quickly. Her hands gesture as she pulls on the energy within her and speaks the words that send two blackish green missles of force flying towards a thing that is about to attack the boy.
The oruch gives the suddenly-appeared gobber a judicious berth in that swamp. Ianga steps around, with a careful look towards their damp surroundings. "Eh," he begins to say and then something happens. He lunges for the boy, aiming to knock him out of the way. He successfully grabs hold of the child's shirt, and aims a warning strike at the ooze. The strike goes wild, but the child is...not safe, but safer.
Ansrir moves to try and take an attack against the creature who tried to make a move for the boy befoe missing wildly, causing his weapon to get stuck in the ground. He growls a little at the turn of events.
Amythyst is glad she's......standing back from the slimes that are attacking. So, she goes back to her old stand-by spell, Magic Missile. A pair of Orbs fly from her fingers and slam into the closest slime, with a splort....
There's a certain swordsman with an absolutely gigantic sword who has been staying to the sidelines quietly all up until now, for one reason or another. Now, however-- with a heavy stomp that carries him just besides and past Ianga he breaks off his silence, the same step carrying the movement of his greatsword, too, in a quick, heavy swing that cuts thhrough both slimes near him and sends wind pressure blasting through -- combined enough to send one of them splattering into tiny gobs across the ground, and likely leaving the second much-less-intact, too. "Alright-- let's dance, huh?"
"Oh hells naw," buzzes Virton as one of the oozes.. oozes it's way up to him. As it swungs it's bulk at him, and the Golem leaps backwards in an attempt to avoid being engulfed by the Slime monstrosity. He steps off the mat, and into the muck and mire. "Dangit! I was tryin' to keep mah boots clean! Ya varmint!"
With that, up comes Virton's thunderbelcher. The *BOOM* that comes out of the weapon is an exceptionally loud thunderclap of noise, as the buckshot thuds into the oozes form -- most pop out, and one or two just idly drift into the mass, joining the other congealed nonsense that lurks inside of it.
The hooded, wicked thing, balled up in his patchwork cloak, those beady little eyes of amber stare over the boy as he speaks. Flicking his tongue over the teeth, and smiling as the boy faulters; before violence. OH VIOLENCE. Those close enough will hear the crackling voice of the gobber as clicks sound off and a hand extends to reveal a crossbow -- it could be a child's toy, save for the glittering broadhead. "Eeny...meeny..." The crossbow moves from slime, to slime, "...miney..." Eyes widen, and one is picked out, "DI-" The voice cut off as the thunderbelcher booms, and the bolt whistles into the slime's surface.
ST:
Blurp. Blorp. BLYEUSH!
SCHLORP!
The oozing slime lunges, and is fried in the face for its efforts as those missiles come firing into its gelatinous self. Even despite this, it seems intent to go for that cowering boy as he screams out, "WAUGH! DON'T LET IT EAT ME!" Just in time to be pulled aside by the oruch with a shrill, girly and ear-piercing yelp that suggests that the lad thought it was the slime, and not the paladin that got to him first, reeling backward as Ianga goes to backhand the slime, succeeding only in going through the slime's body with a sick slurping noise that sends bits of it spattering back into the waters.
It gives him a 'look', as though to say 'nah, brah'.
Ansrir also has his go at this glob of malice, and it receives the same 'look'. That is to say, the whole blob quivers like a bowlful of jelly -- it's clearly laughing at the lot of you, look at that smug little... alright, it has no face, but it's clearly got no respect.
Until Jokul pounds the respect into it. (WINK?) By that, I mean his blade cleaves through it with such a ferocity that it practically detonates the creature, bathing those in the immediate vicinity in an absolutely foul wash of swamp ooze; they are clearly where the scent is coming from, and that stink is something that only gets worse when Sli3 is popped like an oversized boil being lanced. As his weaponry arcs through to the second slime, a good chunk of it goes raining down into the waters, disturbing the calmed surface once more, and in the commotion it would be very easy to miss the curious wooshing sound that comes in from beyond the veil of darkness that blocks out sight of the deeper path.
What would be harder to miss, of course, would be the way the trees bend and rustle as something bursts through the canopy, tearing a whole in the false night, and landing bathed in the hazy debris of above.
Harder yet to ignore would be the world-rocking shriek that tears through the swamp, emulated in a much sadder form as the young boy starts screaming again, crouching down on the ground, bowing his head and clutching his hands over his ears, tears streaming down his cheeks.
This... was not part of the deal.
Whatever that was, it's not happy, but it's not yet clear of the dust fog that it has stirred, the light actually managing to obscure it by way of creating a blinding curtain cast against the risen haze in the shadows. It is, however, approaching if the rumbling is any indicator.
Maybe it's the prom Queen, come for Jokul's fast-filling dance card's final slot.
Maybe it's the territorial owner of the swamp. I mean, either's possible.
SCHLUP!
The slime that Amythyst is attacking glows momentarily as those orbs of light are sucked in and detonate, sending more gross splatting about, some staining Virton's poncho, sliding down in the slowest, meatiest crawl possible before clinging to the ends of a tattered fringe, and dropping onto his boot.
...splat.
"What's going on?! What... I-I, Serriel, protect me!" The boy cries, as a shimmering shield forms around his huddled body.
The slime is peppered with buckshot, the rounds that enter into it halting as though in stop-motion that gives the impression that the camera should be spinning dramatically around it before motion starts again. But, it never does. Quiver-mock-arrow-in-the-slime. It's about that time that Tiz's arrow comes whistling through to penetrate the goo, before it, too, is suspended in animation.
Myaris takes stock of the situation and decides the boy has a bit of the right idea. She calls on her inner force and casts another spells, this one surrounds her with a glowing blackish green aura, before it fades as her magic armors her from harm.
"Aww, hey! Don't be that way!" says the oruch as he reaches around and draws the kinds of hammers only made in Dran and among the oruch clans. Ianga brings it down and fast and low, an angry warning shot that doesn't do more than splat slime. "Get away from'em!"
Ansrir pulls his sword from the ground as he moves to take a swing against the slime that has just decided to take a swing at him. He brings his sword down against it and smiles as it pierces the enemy, though not enough to cause it to die.'
"What in tarnation was that? Did one of you lot cut down a dang tree an' cause a dang forestfall or something?!" angrily buzzes Virton, the Golem. He takes one look aside at Tiz, the Gobber, and gives the little guy a firm nod -- before he's then leaping backwards, his Thunderbelcher dropping out of his hands to land onto the mat with a 'splrthgch' of noise as it gets some gloop on it. "Mah dang poncho. Mah dang boots!" It seems the Golem is quite in touch with his inner 'angry', perhaps he's trying to experience new emotions.
That being said, the death-ray that comes popping up over it's holster on his back and onto his shoulder demonstrates his capacity to turn anger into action, and there's a loud 'BRRLTPR' of energy discharge as the ray seems to lance into the goo-tastic monstrosity, slaying it.
His armour jitters with small discharges of purple electricity, the essence pumping through his system permitting him a far greater reaction time than previous. "Hold on, folks. Looks like somethin' else is decidin' to join the party!"
Amythyst looks at all of the slimes and smirks. "Well then. I guess I can really give them a painful way to go. She says as she slinks around the slime on jokul and.....plunges her hand INTO the slime. Rather than get absorbed into the slime, she draws the water OUT of the slime. It's blurbling becomes cracking and finally falls apart. "Well now...that's....different." She then chuckles. "Come across me again, will ya."
"That was *mine*," Jokul complains right back to Amythyst -- but rather than staying there to be all brooding about that, he instead sets himself into motion right away, spinning into a whirlwind of Aesir and Sword that ends into his sword - raised high - coming down HARD on the remaining slime, cleaving through from the top until the wide blade hits the ground below and sends dust and dirt raining above along with the remnants of the slime, too.
Crossbow tucked away, the wicked looking gobber peers at all the violence against oozes, before nodding upwards to the golem and his hand might reach for one of the trinkets left behind in the demise of a slime-being, when that scream that shakes the swamps comes..
...and Tizrazza reels back his hand...pauses...looks around...and screeeeeeeeches some unintelligable gibberish back into the air. Before promptly side-stepping towards the golem.
ST:
The clashing of various weapons and the slimes rages on, hits scored easily, but none bringing down the creatures outright. At least, until Virton's deathray is activated.
The shotgun had done practically nothing for him, but the lightning that arcs through the air and enters into the slime's 'body' is another story entirely. The red snapping crackle of the beam bounces here and there as the intensity peaks, sent shattering in a million directions as it skirts over the surface of the swamp, giving an unearthly and unsettling crimson glow only briefly to the surroundings, the sound of it bringing forth another bellowed shrieking from the shadows as from within comes charging a small(ish), black reptillian figure that some might recognize from myth and lore; it is a dragon. It comes barrelling onward like a serpent, clawed wings digging into the earth as it charges onward, powerful hind legs moving it like some massive, malformed crocodile at a speed that doesn't seem possible for something like this on the ground.
But, hey, there it is.
When Amythyst plunges her fist into the gloop, it's probably confused. As confused as it can be. Sludge starts crawling up the sorceress's arm, however, as it figures maybe she wishes to be one with the ooze and is all too happy to oblige. Until she begins draining the moisture from it, that is. The goop constricts around her arm as it begins to dehydrate, a sharp whistling like a kettle heard as it superheats, then suddenly falls apart in a shattering sprinkle of marsh-ash that is likely inhaled by more than one adventurer.
Which is repulsive.
But, an experience.
As Jokul goes to SWORD the last remaining slime, that lizard is setting upon the group, great maw opened as it lets out another cry of disagreement with their arrival. It's all a very formal affair, really, an acidic drool forming in its mouth the entire while, vibrant and viscous -- he's chargin' his laser, howling out in Draconic something that the majority might not understand, but those that do would know:
"Greedy and selfish! Stupid and SMALL! I will crush you, melt you, swallow you whole!"
Nice guy.
Myaris watches as the others take out the slimes but then there is this huge lizard coming at them. She turns and two missiles of blackish green force fly from her hand again to smack into it.
"What the blazes?" buzzes Virton, as the creature suddenly emergies. Oh. Oh dear. At it's roaring -- well, Virton don't speak no Draconic, so he responds in the only way that's entirely appropriate for the whole matter. His shoulder cannon quickly recharges, before it gives an audiable 'BWEWEOP' as it's charge gets filled, and it blurts out a beam of red electricity which -does- score a hit.
Seeing Virton go down under the acid vomit, Amythyst winces. "yeah....this won't go well." She says as she places a hand on Jokul's shoulder...and begins to chant. "Cover me...this'll take a while."
Jokul GROWLS in pain with a few staggering steps taken back when the outright TSUNAM of acid washes over him -- but unlike Virton, he still keeps himself on his feet, even if he has to stomp his foot down on the ground to help his focus. He's just about to bound back forward again to try and return the favor, but-- Then he feels Amy's hand on his shoulder. He looks ever-so-briefly oer his shoulder at her, and then just sets himself into plac, hands both grasping the hilt of his sword and holding it over his shoulder, pointed forward. "Better hurry..." He growls. "Can't take another hit like that."
Watching him move is a kind of odd, likely, especially in this place. The cloak slippery and slimey with the goop of the oozes before, the roar and appearance of a dragon has an additional stench rising! Urine. But that quickly is left behind in the swamp as the fear of dragons is replaced with the love-of-stabbing-things and Tizrazza moves to do just that, drawing out a blade that looks too big for the goblin's hand and swinging; but getting caught up on his own cloak, tripping, and dropping headfirst into the muck.
ST:
"BUUUUUUUUUURRRRRNNN!"
Apparently the small dragon was VERY unimpressed by the smiting, the arrows, the anything that's going on. In retort to that, and the deathray that goes scorching off its scaley hide, that maw opens just a little wider, glows a little brighter, and gushes forward with a torrent of acid that sets the marsh mat ablaze, and the waters beyond bubbling in a frenzy as it boils away. Ianga manages to get out of the way of the brunt of that horrid spray, but Jokul and Virton are not quite so lucky.
Virton is fairly melted into the earth; it bathes the cowboy in acid, boiling away the bits of him that are not reinforced, melting away most of his newly remade face, causing twitches and sparks, smiling that shouldn't be happening, and a deadening of those glowing eyes of his.
At least this time he actually saw it coming.
Briefly.
Jokul is also set burning, skin sizzling, melting away, his tiny beard singing clean off his beautiful but delicate face, leaving him smooth as a baby's bottom. If, of course, a baby's bottom were covered in a level of burns not yet recorded by medical historians, his armour momentarily seizing as metal melts together and pulls apart.
"How dare you!" It continues to bellow, snapping its maw a few times, standing off against the party in its solitary majesty, barely any bigger than they are, but a monster of presence and threat. "You stand before a Lord, and yet you do not cower, and you do not -break-!" Amythyst understands, but apparently others are clueless. Its reptillian eyes blink both sets of lids as the words slither and boom from its fanged mouth, still drooling out an acidic wash, its wings stretching and clawing before it, its tail lashing about behind in clear displeasure. Its back arches up, neck craning to allow its head to snap back, jaw opening to reveal that glowing gullet once more as it prepares for another attack, thankfully utterly ignoring the tiny, vicious little rogue that's plinking off its scales.
Myaris doesn't really want to fight the black dragon for a couple different reasons. She can't really use most of her spells cause of the fact that the dragon thing would probably resist them. She goes back and repeats what she did before, two blackish green bolts of force hurl at the thing smacking solidly.
"Any idea what it's sayin!" Ianga calls out, as he brings the earthbreaker around. The heavy hammer thunks! into the dragon's side, even as the Light of Dawn covers his form, sealing wounds away. It resonates over his armor, a faint pulsate of the protective divine, repulsing the dragon's claws. He takes a side step towards the fallen comrade, mindful of the dragon's reach.
Ansrir reaches a hand up to touch his holy symbol as he chants a Celestial call out to the creature after he sees the acid breath , but the magic seems to fail as the creature is able to resist the urge. To resolve, Ansrir begins moving towards the fallen Virton to get ready to try and heal them.
You know how you can see your whole life flashing before your eyes and all that?
Someone made that up. Cause Virton didn't see none of that. He saw a whole lot of acid breath screaming towards him at impossible speeds, and then a momentary glimpse of the fact that he can now see inside of his torso - which is interesting enough when you consider it - but still rather horrifying. Then, there's a sudden dimness as the power going to his eyes begins to stutter out, and the Golem goes still - acrid smoke pouring up from it's mostly sizzled form as it enters into a state of emergency deactivation in order to keep himself alive.
Amythyst is glad the dragon isn't breathing acid on her...cuz she'd be dead. However, she DOES realize that she can understand it. "Seems this dragon is fiercely territorial, and it keeps wanting us to call it lord and cower before it. Or something." She then looks to the dragon, and holds up a couple of blue orbs while she speaks back to it in Draconic. "If you hadn't attacked us, we would've never know you were here. But you attacked us, and now we have to defend ourselves! So....goodbye!" And she 'throws' the orbs, which both smack the dragon in the forehead.
"Is that right?" Jokul growls in response to Amy's explanation right before he suddenly grows TWICE HIS SIZE. Probably more, actually, but don't worry about that now. Evne if he is still burning from the acid splattered on him, he just *grins*. "Well--" One stomp of a giant boot forward - which echoes in a heavy THUD across the clearing - and an even more giant sword is hefted up and brought to swinging already -- and with his newly-gathered size it actually causes a gust of wind, too, just before it slices into the dragon. "YOU COWER, BITCH!!!" The Giant-Jokul roars out in time with the sword cleaving through the beast's neck and sending the poor thing's head flying off.
ST:
"Righteous and foolish in equal measure!" It bellows toward the paladin that doesn't understand more than the gutteral growl that spills forth from acid-frothed mouth, practically prancing after Ianga in his retreat, claws swiping and scoring against the paladin's armour, snarling the entire way. "You simple, mortal creatures... always taking what is not yours!" He growls out toward Amythyst, eyes aglow, countenance fierce. As those orbs pelt it in its forehead, it snaps its teeth audibly before hissing out a breath in its growing contempt, its movements sluggish but no less determined in defending its territory, as small as it may be, as insignificant as they land might appear.
The farmer's son still crouches, cowering, untouched by the acid that spilled from the beast previously, unharmed by the slimes that had gone for him, protected by his shielding magics and the heroic actions of those that heeded the call; be it for coin or purpose, they were so valiant, even in their failures -- perhaps especially then. He still whimpers and cries, muttering under his breath as he prays to Serriel, one hand clutching a holy symbol of wood, hanging from a simple leather cord -- likely his only valued possession.
"I care not if you -knew-! This... PLACE... is MI--" HGRK! His posturing, his spectacle, it's cut short, quite literally, by the blade of the now titanic warrior; likely revenge for burning off his little girl beard. Even as that head goes firing off in a gracefully twirling arc, the party might note its surprise, the body still standing for a few moments before it slumps forward, spilling grand torrents of vile blood onto the dirt and into the swamp.
"Is... is it over? Did you win? You..." The boy's head raises, and he peers around at those still standing, before seeing the war golem, his eyes going wide as he scurries toward the sparking cowboy, his kind and gentle heart broken by the sight. It's all because of him. He couldn't save his brother, and he couldn't even help those that came to help them, his hands trembling as they place themselves against Virton, glowing with a soft light. "H-hey, f-fella? Hey? Are you okay?!"
It's about that time that the farmer's charging up the marsh mats with a thunderbelcher of his own, "What's going on?! Where is my son?! Where is--oh, thank the Gods!" He stumbles, sinking to his knees as the boy looks up from beside the casually mending golem, a frown on the teen's lips. "Father, I... I think I wish to return with them to Alexandria... to continue my training. I know! I -know- you need my help, but..."
"No... no, my boy, my beautiful son... you must follow your path. I... you can better serve this community this way. I will get the others, and we will finish this route." His head turns toward the rest of the party. "Please, take my son with you. Come with me and rest, but, then..." There's a sad smile, that of a parent letting go of the leash to let their child find their own way in this messed up world.
"Serriel will provide. We will see this way open to all."
With that, the contract is complete, and our heroes are, once more, victorious.
~ Fin