Quest Loot Runners #3 The Wind and the Willow

[Freya Thrakin]

ISLAND 2: IGNATYR/FLAMING MACE
Harrier

The Nord shrugged. "You're the first one I've met, so I wouldn't know what to expect." Necromancers weren't the most common sort of mage, after all. Those that were around were often a bit more discreet in their learnings as well, making them all the rarer.

Seeing that there was little in the way of her attaining the mace, she nodded, ascending the stairs that wrapped around the tower. She paused for a moment to look down at the mage, saying, "Thanks for the help. I'm glad you learned what you were hoping for."

The stairs weaved between buildings and platforms, each one constructed against the massive cliff-face, all of them eerily quiet. That is if you could even call them stairs. Age had certainly not been kind to them, rotted wood and scars apparent in their ramshackle construction. Perhaps when this civilization still stood tall amongst the waves, it had been considered an architectural marvel. Now, it only served as a still-standing relic to their death.

The sound of snapping wood tore her from her idle thoughts and into the present. Then, the sound of splashing water as the stairs beneath her began to crumble into the ocean.

Freya quickly raced up the stairs, her feet narrowly ahead of the rapidly collapsing staircase. She came to the realization that she wouldn't be able to outrun it for much longer, and with that thought, her gaze shifted towards the rooves of the tower's buildings. They were within jumping distance, and they seemed sturdy. Sturdy enough, at least, which was vastly better to the alternative.

She leaped off of the stairs, the boards beneath her falling down to the oceanic depths below. The Nord took the spear off of her back, embedding it in the tile roof as a violent wind blew past, She held tightly onto the spear, using it as leverage in order to ensure the wind didn't knock her off. She heaved herself up onto the roof, holding on tightly.

Glancing back, she could see the necromancer below. She began to shout that she was alright, quickly realizing that the wind didn't exactly facilitate long-distance conversations. Instead, she opted for a thumbs up.

 

[Myrcella Bochanan]

ISLAND 3: PANDARANN/WILLOW

Myrcella had to laugh as Richard Henry the Eighth continued with their little game. It was cute and lifted her mood. Having a broken ankle wasn't easy. Most especially on a journey such as this. "Your beard needs a bit of a trim. Although...I am curious as to what you look like without it." Would she even recognize him? It was difficult to say.

She held his hand as they decided to plot their course. Richard was right. They couldn't risk him carrying her the way he had been. One bad slip or big gust of wind and they'd fall. Or at least she would.

Myrcella nodded in agreement with his suggestion of riding piggyback. "I suppose that's our best option...And the best way home is to continue forward. Though I could really use one of those lemon cakes now." The mention of desserts caused her to miss home all the more.

Myrcella got to her feet and prepared to climb onto his back.

 

[Richard Henry the Eighth]

ISLAND 3: PANDARANN/WILLOW

Richard had forgotten what he'd look like without a beard, admittedly he didn't shave it off because he got lazy. The beard just began to grow naturally in all of its light brown splendor. "Well," Richard shrugged. "I still have my sword perhaps a shave is in order." The Bard Knight began to play with Mrycella's long locks of blonde hair. "It's amazing how your hair is still high quality," he said. "You must tell me your secrets."

He took out a piece of Lemon Cake, he found during their journey and gave it to Myrcella. "Here," he said. "I've been saving it in case you get hungry which is now I suppose." Placing a hand on Myrcella's cheek, a smile formed on his face. "Whatever happens," he said. "We'll go through it together."

After she ate, Richard picked up Myrcella in a piggy back, Richard began to balance himself on to the wooden bridge. A tiny gust of wind blew bridge slightly causing Richard to momentarily lose his balance. "I think it's best," Richard said trying to smile. "Not to look down."

Myrcella Bochanan

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Island 1: Plague Ghouls
Fife Belduhr Brighthand

"Funny thing about plague ghouls. They're relatively cowardly creatures and don't like the light. Which will come in useful as we're going that way now," Raigryn explained.

"We won't go rooting around in the dark for this artefact, but we're going to take...sorry for this...another bridge. Over to that tower and then the bridge from there to shore."

"We've got a fire mage, even if they seemed good sports. A troll coming over and now a fourth group. Along with the Pandarann whose anger I can already sense and I say we take the bridge. This time I'm going first."

Raigryn walked across the platform. It was all quite remarkable really. He couldn't even imagine how difficult it must have been to construct these near-vertical towns.

If there was any doubt in their mind about why he was going first it would be put to rest when he reached over his shoulder and unclipped the strap around the hilt of his sword. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place and Raigryn wasn't one to wait and see what happened.

 

[Harrier]

ISLAND 2: IGNATYR/FLAMING MACE
Freya Thrakin

Despite herself, Harrier watched Freya's ascent closely. She tensed at the jump and relaxed somewhat when Freya landed it. The Nord had guts aplenty - and if she wanted to use a flaming mace, she'd need it.

Assuming Harrier was charting Freya's course correctly, it led through the ramshackle heights to the high rocky outcropping where they'd glimpsed the mace. What awaited her up there was anyone's guess.

Harrier found herself tapping her foot nervously as she sat there on the rock. They'd exchanged all of a hundred words, but today they counted as friends.

 

[Freya Thrakin]

ISLAND 2: IGNATYR/FLAMING MACE
Harrier

Turning her gaze back towards the tower, she grimaced at the collapsed stairs. The only reminder of their existence was the loose ropes that now hung downward, lashed about by oncoming gusts. There was definitely no going back that way, she could tell that for certain.

She took off running across the roof, her footsteps providing a resounding thud as they hit the tiles. She jumped once more onto another roof, then another, and then another, steadily ascending up the tower. Whenever the wind picked up, she stabbed her spear downward and held on until it was safe to go further.

Soon, the buildings grew taller, and a single jump no longer proved to be enough. A sigh left her form as she looked upward once more; she still had some ways to go before she could reach the mace, and whatever lied waiting up there. The Nord began to climb, recalling her past experience scaling the sides of mountains and caverns within the Spine. She grasped wooden pillars and barred windows, heaving herself upward as she made her way up the collection of buildings.

As she scaled one particular building, which appeared to have once been a residence of some kind, she peered through a window. The interior had clearly partially collapsed in on one side; a wooden pillar laid topped over onto a pile of rubble. Looking closer, she noticed specks of white within the loose debris.

Bones.

Turning her gaze upward, she had a realization. There were more Ignatyr, Ignatyr whose bones could no longer be put to rest. Ignatyr that stood between her and the mace.

 

[Belduhr Brighthand]

Island 1: Plague Ghouls
Raigryn Vayd Fife

With the increasing number of groups headed to where the sword was, it seemed a right and proper idea to follow Raigryn in his shifted interest. After all, it wasn't an entirely wrong idea to believe that the other groups were not going to advance forward. Instead biding their time until the others had secured the weapon and began to come back.

Only to be ambushed by the waiting parties, fresh and waiting.

Belduhr did not have anything to add to the tidbit that Raigryn spoke of about the Plague Ghouls, simply nodding and feeling content with the man's explanation of the wretched creatures. On the other hand, the pointed note of sensing the Pandarann's anger made him stumble for a moment.

Then again from the volume of noise and feeling coming from above them of what he supposed was the creatures, he figured that the man was just feeling... cryptic.

"Ah yes, I too sense their anger." Belduhr nodded while a hand lightly brushed his beard. He did not linger on the moment however as Raigryn undid the sword and readied himself for the change in goal. Belduhr had not grabbed his hammer yet, but with the battlemage equipping his sword, Belduhr brought forth his own weapon.

 

[Fife]

Island 1: Plague Ghouls

She wasn't arguing when Raigryn suggested another island and another bounty. Whatever the Willow was, it seemed a popular choice and, therefore, more dangerous. The sounds of combat above came periodically through the fierce winds. It didn't sound like anything she wanted to tangle with.

Glancing across the water again toward the next tower with its ghouls didn't feel much more reassuring.

Nodding, she followed. She didn't argue about him going first, especially when he withdrew his sword. Fife's face paled, but she stepped faithfully onto the bridge after him -- albeit with a degree of room in case he needed to maneuver that sword. She certainly hoped not. Gripping the rope, her stomach was twisted into knots. Watching him go ahead of her might have been more stressful than testing the planks first herself.

// Raigryn Vayd // Belduhr Brighthand //​

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Fife Belduhr Brighthand

"You..."

Raigryn had been about to question Belduhr on being able to sense the anger. He cut himself off and came to an abrupt halt on the bridge.

Two levels above them, a pandarann watched them from behind a wooden railing. It was not as cute as he had pictured. Larger than an ogre and with a set of sharp, needle-like teeth.

Raigryn heard the railing creak under its weight. If it leapt from there it was tear the bridge put from beneath them. Raigryn kept his eyes on the pandarann and pointed with both arms towards the the next tower. He had to tuck in his chin to shield his eyes from the wind.

ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED. DABBED AT PANDA.

"Keep moving, slowly, no sudden movements."

 

[Flint]

The barber turned tail when he heard Orival crash to the ground below him. Moving back to the stairs, Flint surveyed the situation, another blade quickly in hand. The pandarann loomed over his friend, claws bloody, teeth gleaming in a terrible snarl. Orival, for his part, looked worse for wear. The mute was scrambling away from their foe, and while his wounds looked far from fatal, he imagined the mage was in a great deal of pain.

Taking another blade in his free hand, Flint skipped down a couple of steps before launching himself from the staircase, blades raised in a desperate attempt to mount the pandarann. He and Orival were partners, and they were going to have to look out for each other if they wanted to survive. Splitting up had been a misstep.

The barber let out a cry of rage as he descended on the beast, quickly realising that he had timed his jump incorrectly. So, at the last second, Flint braced for impact. Landing on his side, the man rolled beside the pandarann, crying out as pain flared up his arm. Luckily the drop hadn't been so far, and his pain did not leave him debilitated. Coming to a halt next to the pyromancer, Flint scrambled to his feet, gripping his wounded arm with his free hand.
"This isn't working, Orival, You have any ideas?".
Orival Theodric

 

[Orival Theodric]

Island 3: Pandarann/Willow

Orival's eyes shifted around but the beast was directly in there path and much of what was around was broken and likely weak against the Pandarann's hide. His fire should have been effective but the creature withstood it as if it had dealt with him its whole life. Its focus was easily diverted but its strength was immaculate. If they weren't quick enough, they'd have to face another wound that would not easily heal.

"When it comes for us." He wrote. "Let us each take one side and try to move to the staircase." He then sat and waited for the Pandarann to inevitably charge. As it did, Orival took the right side of the beast to shimmy passed. However his dance maneuvers did not save him this time. The beasts attack missed but the pyromancer was caught by the sheer size of it.

He made zero progress, yet again.

Flint

 

[Flint]

Advancing as a united front, Flint prepared to dart left. Upon seeing Orival's failed attempt, however, the barber decided he'd need to rough the pandarann up before making his move. The beast darted to cut off Orival, and Flint dove forward, plunging one of the blades into its knee and quicking pulling it out. He then moved to brush past it but was cut off when the pandarann staggered backwards, blocking his path once more. He turned the knife in his hand, warm blood coating his fingertips as he prepared to launch another attack.
"We need to weaken it more. Slow it down so we can get by without being pursued".
Flint backed away again, moving closer to Orival. He intended on poking the pandarann back whenever it made a move for them. The thing was a behemoth, but it was getting weaker. They just needed to play the slow game, as overwhelming the beast clearly wasn't a viable option.

Orival Theodric

 

[Orival Theodric]

Island 3: Pandarann/Willow

This was going nowhere fast. At this rate he and Flint would be trapped here forever. Orival conjured another ball of flame to hurl at the beast. The thing was far from stupid as it saw it coming and dodged it just in time, sending the fireball into the stone wall behind it. He was tossing a litany of curse words in his brain as he was beginning to feel like quite the failure. If he couldn't take one pandarann, what hope did he have in this adventurers life?

The beast thrust itself at Orival, but he was more aware of his surroundings this time. He was able to evade the attack as it had done his fireball. It was too quick to move back to the staircase though. It was very aware of their intentions.

"We're going to be stuck here forever." He wrote in dismay.

<107hp> <Roll: 11>

 

[Flint]

Island 3: Pandarann/Willow
The pandarann wrenched one of Flint's blades from its shoulder, letting out a shrill road as it dropped the bloodied weapon to the ground. Flint was no expert in the field of medicine, bit he reckoned the pandarann would have been happier had it left the blade in. It advanced once more, though now with each step also carrying a laboured shrug of the wounded shoulder. It was a start, at least.

Orival may have been right in saying they were going to get stuck, but Flint tried not to let that deter him. He was faring alright in this fight by his own standards, and he reckoned there was still room for them to overcome the beast. The barber awaited the pandarann's next more, ready to spring to action in retaliation.

<102hp><Roll: 6>
Orival Theodric

 

[Orival Theodric]

Island 3: Pandarann/Willow

Orival tried to not let his repeated defeats get the better of him. They HAD to do this. No matter the struggle. He wound up another ball of flame and hurled it with all his fury towards the pandarann. Despite it facing his ally the creature was visibly sick of the pyromancer's shit. It turned and caught the ball in its paw, crushing the magic under the weight of its own rage.

In a flash, the beast was upon him yet again. It backhanded Orival across the head and sent him flying into the wall on the side. His head cracked open against the stone slab and knocked him out cold. Orival's hand twitched.

<91hp> <Roll: 1>

 

[Belduhr Brighthand]

Belduhr turned his head to listen to Raigryn but quickly shipped it back around to look where he did. A large bipedal creature watched them. Likely would have been a marginally cute thing if it didn't stare at them as though they were it's next meal.

"Aye', slow movin' sounds like a right idea." The dwarf nodded. He moved slowly, one hand holding the hammer handle and rope while the other curled in front of his face. A spray of salt water on the wind hit his face, making him cover his face with the free arm and duck low. His mouth pushed into his elbow to stifle the urge to cough up the bitter spray.

Dabbing achieved.

"Feckin' sea water." He grumbled.

 

[Tol]

Island 3.

The water was nothing to Tol as he was a swamp troll and nothing was stronger than the waters of the swamp. Atleast thats what Tol thought before he jumped in and now he learnt the difference between the relative calm waters of a swamp to the angry thrashing of the ocean. Oh Tol regretted his actions, he sould have just stayed at the main island and let Rizzo do the stealing but no he wanted to challenge the ocean to a battle he couldn't win

Tol tried to swim to the other island but the waves kept knocking him about. Every time Tol thought he was making progress in his swimming he would look up and see he was further away from the island he needed to go to. It was swim or die for Tol for if he couldn't make it to the island he would drown and fail his holy quest.

Finally after what seemed forever Tol swam close to the third island ready to grab on to it when a big wave smashed into Tol. The wave pushed Tol towards the jagged rocks of the third island. Protecting his face by covering it with his arm while the other arm was put up in the air in an attempt to grab onto the rocks

PAINFUL DAB ACHIEVED

The rocks pierced Tol's arm causing him to roar in pain. But atleast now he made it to the other side and now just needs to climb up.

 

[Myrcella Bochanan]

ISLAND 3: PANDARANN/WILLOW

Myrcella smiled as Richard Henry the Eighth placed his hand upon her cheek, looking into his eyes. There was no deceit in them at all while he spoke. And while he joked about her hair, which was surely a mess, he seemed to radiate with his growing love for her. And how could she not reciprocate?

"Cake? Wherever did you find it?" She took the dessert in thanks and then ate it, savouring every sweet bite. Of course it wasn't nearly enough to abate her appetite, but something was better than nothing.

After licking her fingers clean, she climbed onto Richard's back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. As he started across the bridge and nearly lost his balance, Myrcella held onto him even tighter and shut her eyes. "I'm not looking down. I'm not looking down. I'm not looking down!" And she didn't want to die either. Not here and not today.

 

[Richard Henry the Eighth]

ISLAND 3: PANDARANN/WILLOW

"I found the cake before we somehow landed here," Richard explained. "Remember that empty house we took refuge in? There was tasty pastries in the cupboard, I knew you have sweet tooth especially when it comes to lemon cakes. Personally I can't stand the taste but you have fondness for it."

If there was one good thing about this journey was that Richard and Myrcella were growing fond of one another. The Bard Knight even grew to love her and vice versa which made things awkward. Oh he'll recognized the irony in all this. The woman that Richard chose was actually the person he was supposed to be bethroed to. But it will be all moot if they couldn't cross this long and creaky bridge.

"Myrcella!" Richard croaked nearly losing his balance. "You're choking me love! I know you love me so much Myrcella and think I'm oozing charm but try not to get to excited!"

Just then more of those giant birds were swooping in for another pass. As they sped over the duo, the bridge violently shook sending Richard to his knees. "Why is the bridge so bloody long?!" He grumbled slowly getting up and continuing to walk.

 

[Rizzo Bouchard]

ISLAND 3: WILLOW​

Rizzo stole at glance at the party of three as they decided to depart the third island and go to the one with the scary ghouls.

Ah hah! Rizzo was intimidating! Scared them right away when they saw her coming! And they didn't even really get to see Tol either. That Iron-class badge was going to fall right into her lap at this rate! Wow, amazing!

Mmmm, time to celebrate.

Rizzo set her traveling satchel in front of herself and undid the leather cords keeping the top shut. She brushed her hair out of her face as another gust of wind blew her bangs around and she reached inside the satchel. Pulled out a waterskin. Drank half of it greedily and put it back. And then! Ooooooh~~! Secret weapon! Courtesy of Ye!

Out came one of the stamina potions in her grasp. She popped off the cork and the wind took it and carried it away and sent the cork sailing off the wooden platform and tumbling down and down to the waters below. Touching the small bottle to her lips, she kicked her head back and drank the whole potion in a few gulps.

"Aaaaaaah..." And she tossed the empty bottle over the edge of the platform and the island as a whole and it twirling down after the cork which preceded it.

Just! Like! In Alliria! That tingling and crackling in her oh so tired legs and arms and all the little muscles in-between and a rush of energy radiating out from her chest and rolling along to all of her fatigued limbs. It was like when she was a child waking up out of a deep, deep sleep only to find out, HEY IT'S GIVING DAY! And whooooosh, going from knocked-out to springing up and out the bedroom door! Just like that!

Rizzo tied her satchel shut and cross-body shouldered the strap once more. She stood up and beside the terminus of the bridge, glanced back--

Aaaahh! The team of three left, but there was another team coming! But it was okay! One of them couldn't even walk; she had be carried! If it came down to it, Rizzo and Tol could tip-toe by while the Pan-nya-nyahs beat the pulp out of those two. And that other team. That was already in there. Inside the tower. Making a racket. Rizzo needed them to beat their way up to the top where the Willow MOST DEFINITELY WAS and then lose-lose. Or get all the way up there and get in a fight with the broke-leg team, then, you know, she and Tol would politely ask the winner to pay the toll. Or else. Raaaaaaaaah! Rizzo the Bull!

Rizzo heard a roar. Just barely over the whispers and howlings of the tumultuous winds. She carefully peered over the edge of the wooden platform, looking all the way down the columnar island rock jutting out of the sea.

"Tol!" she shouted, but he was waaaaaay down there. Wow, he was going to need a stamina potion. Or two. Or three! He had a long way up, and all she could do right now was watch and wait.

But the waiting worked. All according to Tol the Smart's plan!

Tol

 

[Myrcella Bochanan]

ISLAND 3: PANDARANN/WILLOW

Myrcella couldn't help herself when she held on tight. And how was she supposed to know that she was choking him with her arms? "I'm sorry! But it's scary!" Not to mention that she was at the mercy of Richard Henry the Eighth 's ability to keep his balance. Her life was once again in his hands, for the umpteenth time during this Godsforsaken journey. Will it ever end?

The birds swooped down low, causing Myrcella to shriek as Richard dropped to his knees. Her eyes snapped open and she looked straight down in between the roped planks. The distance down below was immense. Myrcella nearly froze in fear. She had never been so high before. "Let's just crawl...The birds might not get us this way." But it still swayed in the wind. And that made the scary situation even worse.

 

[Richard Henry the Eighth]

ISLAND 3: PANDARANN/WILLOW

Richard couldn't blame the girl for holding on to him too tightly but he didn't want to be choked to death. If he were to die, it would be in his own bed with his lute and a bottle of brandy. "Just look at me Myrcella," Richard smiled as he slowly placed the young girl down. "I won't abandon you. Because I love you."

Myrcella loved those cheesy romance novels, it was one of the things Celty loved to tease her over. Richard had spent the entire journey entertaining Myrcella through jokes and cheesy love one liners and it seemed to be working. "All right," he breathed. "We'll crawl to the other side just stay behind me."

 

[Fife]

Island 1: Plague Ghouls

She looked up when he paused. He was watching something behind them. With the same reluctance one might look toward the gallows, Fife turned and followed his gaze.

That, she could safely assume, was a Pandarann.

Never more grateful that they were moving on, Fife moved slowly and deliberately. It was difficult to take her eyes from the thing enough to walk. Both Belduhr and Raigryn shielded against the wind and watery mists, and she was no different.

One plank at a time. She kept glancing back at it and it kept watching them. They passed the middle and she looked at the terrifying creature for what she told herself would be the last time.

Something tickled her nose, and though she fought the untimely feeling with a few noble breaths, she couldn't stop it. Gripping the rope, Fife sneezed into her opposite elbow, trying her best to muffle the sound.

RELUCTANT DABBING AT PANDA

Eyes wide with fright, she looked up toward the Pandarann once more, silently praying that that didn't count as noise or sudden movement enough to stir it into action.

// Raigryn Vayd // Belduhr Brighthand //​

 

[Flint]

Island 3: Pandarann/Willow
Watching in horror, Flint observed his friend take a terrible hit, which sent him cracking against the tower wall. He suppressed a cry of concern, keeping himself from immediately rushing to his friend's aid. He couldn't lose his cool now. Orival was alright, he had to be...

The pandarann looked to him now, and Flint swore the thing was grinning at him. Gone was the limping tug on his shoulder. The beast stood tall, looming over him, a predator observing prey. Flint felt buzz course through his body, his hairs standing on end. Initially he'd thought it was from fear, but rather than freeze, he moved.

Well, he didn't necessarily mean to move. It was as though his body took the reins, his mind a mere bystander. His hands seized the two blades at his hips, and he lunged forward. His movements were methodical, like they had been in his old trade. He'd felt this kind of feeling before, but never to this intensity. It was as though his hands knew what to do, though his mind was completely unaware of it.

When he moved, the pandarann responded, stepping forward and swiping a thick clawed paw down towards him. The barber side-stepped, dragging a blade across the inside of the beast's arm, the momentum of its strike aiding him in tearing its skin. The barber dropped to his knees then, slamming the second blade into its knee, jarring his own wrist. The pandarann screamed now, out of pain rather than annoyance this time. Their first good strike at the thing. Flint rolled to the side, coming to a crouch beside the fallen Orival. As the pandarann twitched in pain, Flint shook Orival's shoulder lightly, seizing the man's wrist.
"Orival! Come on, man. I need you!".

<HP100> <Roll 14>
Orival Theodric

 

[Orival Theodric]

Island 3: Pandarann/Willow

Orival was very clearly out cold. His mind flashed him a brief dream of he and his mother in the kitchen together. Something serene and easy to cling to. His mind didn't want it to end whatsoever. It was home. It was everything he'd known and loved right there in front of him. This serenity was shattered by the throbbing of his shoulder.

The dancer woke up to Flint begging for his uprising. He could not stay down here long. The pandarann that was in mid combat with them was rearing in pain. His ally must've dealt the beast a decent hit. He laid there, with one arm extended on the ground with his fingers pointed outward. His other arm covered his injured face.

WOUNDED DAB ACHIEVED

After a second to recover the pyromancer put his hands backward and sprung himself forward. He still needed to fight, even if he was out of it for a bit.

<75hp> <Action Lost> Flint