A Hero is Airborne

Created
Status
Ongoing
Watchers
32
Recent readers
0

Some heroes are born. Some are made. Others just fall out of the sky.

"Whether one is falling...
OP
Location
Cagayan de Oro City, The Philippines
Some heroes are born. Some are made. Others just fall out of the sky.
"Whether one is falling or rising is simply a matter of perspective."

You couldn't remember who said that, nor why it was said. You only remembered thinking, then and now, that it was a stupid sentiment. Falling hurts no matter how you look at it. You couldn't remember how you got into this situation; odd considering most falling folk would remember how they got up to cloud-height.

On reflection, you found that you couldn't remember much of anything. What your name was, what your age was, not even what you looked like. Perhaps you were a bird that had forgotten how to fly.

You tried flapping.

Well, at least that reminded you that arms aren't wings. You looked down and were greeted by a vast and verdant expanse. The land was a patchwork of autumn-hued fields, dotted with homes, veined with snaking roads and rivers.

You comforted yourself with the knowledge that you would die in such an arcadia. You even regretted the mess you would make.

You closed your eyes.
---
"Grandpa! Grandpa, come quick!"

You open your eyes slowly. The sun hid itself coyly behind the clouds, the light it shed dancing and dappled. Excited shouts echoed in the distance, each cry of "Grandpa!" growing louder with each blink.

Everything was blurry, but your vision and hearing caught up to you. The dancing sunlight was gone, replaced by something else. Someone else.

Someone was standing over you, it was:

[ ] A girl with two buckets over her shoulder.

[ ] A boy with a hoe and a sling.


"Grandpa! Over here!"

"Get back in the house! Now!"

"But grandpa-"

"Now! There are orcs coming!"

You stood yourself up, knees wobbling wearily. From a tree-line, a band of misshapen figures sallied out. From where you where, you could hear them grunting and squealing. The sunlight danced on their piggish faces.

You rubbed your eyes. Weren't you supposed to be dead? You looked at the ground - there should have been a pitiful red stain. Instead, you saw a:

[ ] Wooden sword. The hilt, guard, and pommel all look normal. The blade itself is wood...

[ ] Long branch. At least it's got a cute little leaf sticking out the end.

[ ] Bow. No string nor arrows...

[ ] Rusty dagger. You could hope that it gives them lockjaw.

And tucked underneath it was a note. All it said was:
Ninety-nine good deeds.​
 
[X] A boy with a hoe and a sling.
[X] Wooden sword. The hilt, guard, and pommel all look normal. The blade itself is wood...
 
[X] A boy with a hoe and a sling.
[X] Bow. No string nor arrows.


Never any archer quests on sv.
 
[x] A boy with a hoe and a sling.
[x] Rusty dagger.
You could hope that it gives them lockjaw.
 
[X] A boy with a hoe and a sling.
[X] Bow. No string nor arrows.

Archer. 'Nuff Said
 
[X] A girl with two buckets over her shoulder.
[X] Long branch. At least it's got a cute little leaf sticking out the end.
 
[X] A girl with two buckets over her shoulder.
[X] Long branch. At least it's got a cute little leaf sticking out the end.
 
Voting's closed.
Adhoc vote count started by ManInACandyVan on Jun 23, 2018 at 9:52 PM, finished with 15 posts and 11 votes.

  • [X] A boy with a hoe and a sling.
    [X] Bow. No string nor arrows.
    [X] A girl with two buckets over her shoulder.
    [X] Long branch. At least it's got a cute little leaf sticking out the end.
    [X] A girl with two buckets over her shoulder.
    [X] Wooden sword. The hilt, guard, and pommel all look normal. The blade itself is wood...
    [X] A boy with a hoe and a sling.
    [X] Wooden sword. The hilt, guard, and pommel all look normal. The blade itself is wood...
    [X] A boy with a hoe and a sling.
    [x] Rusty dagger. You could hope that it gives them lockjaw.
 
I: Trick Shot
You stood, stumbling and staggering. You tucked away the strange note into your ragged clothes and quickly inspect the bow. It was a completely normal bow, no strings attached. Unfortunately. No arrows around either.

The boy next to you fired a pebble with his sling; drawing, aiming, and firing with youthful years of practice. In the tree-line, you heard a distant thump and an annoyed grunt.

"Boy! What did I say? Get back to the house, now!"

Turning, you saw a grizzled old man. Time and toil had left him hard and lean, but his hulking frame suggested he must have been a bear of a man in his youth.

"But," the boy started, still firing his sling. "I'm a man! I can fight!"

"Be a man, then! Go home and protect your grandmother."

Reluctantly, the boy turned and fled to a large house behind you. The band of orcs, around six of them, were encroaching hurriedly. Their spears were makeshift, their shields battered, but all that proved was their experience in violence.

"You there!" the old man called, pointing at you. "Had a good rest on my property? Get off your behind and help an old man!"

You shift around the bow in your hands. You thought, dejectedly, that it would at least make a usable club. As you raise it, however, a line of light appeared between the two ends of the bow limbs. You pulled it slowly, and another line of light shaped like an arrow materialized.

"Hann, help me. Here they come!"

With lightning speed, you aimed the bow at the nearest orc and loosed. The light flew like a shooting star. It buried itself into the orc's shoulder and vanished with a brilliant puff.

The old man wasted no time. He closed the gap with the wounded orc, burying a woodcutting axe into the pigman's neck.

As he pulled the axe out, a kick from behind knocked the man down. Another orc stood over him, spear poised to impale his gut.

You aimed. Drew. Loosed. The arrow flew and pierced the orc's chainmail as if it were parchment. It let out a squeal of anger. The man, quick as thunder, stood and swung his axe in one fluid motion. The orc's head rolled from its shoulders.

The four remaining orcs stood close, shields raised. You loosed another arrow. It went straight through an orc's shield as if it hadn't been there at all. The orc behind it roared in surprise.

You loosed again, and the orc fell with an arrow in his chest and throat. The other three, seeing the futility of defense, charged. Not for you, nor for the old man, but for the house behind.

One pulled out a torch and lit it by speaking foul whispers. The orc stopped in its tracks, arched its arm back, and flung the flaming torch.

The old man saw where it would go - the thatch roof. "No!"

Your eyes narrowed, your breathing deepened and slowed. Aim. Draw. Loose. The arrow met its mark as a hawk does a lesser bird, knocking the torch down into a patch of mud.

With a roar, the old man charged into the torch-lobbing orc, bulling the pigman down. One vicious downward swing split the orc from shoulder to belly.

The two remaining orcs skidded to a halt and turned to flee. They squealed like piglets as the old man chased them. You aimed your bow at the fleeing orcs, but the bowstring would not materialize at all.

Strange.

They were chased back into the forest by the old man, who sunk to his knees and clutched his chest. You jogged over to him and put a hand on his shoulder, one he brushed away.

"I'm not as spry as I used to be," he managed. He stood, refusing any help. He faced you. In his face of defiance, you saw relief and gratitude in his eyes. "Thank you, stranger."

---
"Dear, you really must go to town and see Father Ham." A woman was tending to the old man. She was old and round enough to accommodate the kindness that permeated her.

"Don't need to, don't want to. Besides, what would happen if the orcs returned while I was gone?"

"I'd defend the house!" said the boy from earlier. He was watching the stew cook over the hearth.

The house was smaller inside than it had appeared without, but to you that gave it a rustic coziness. You sat at a table, sitting across the old man and presumably his wife. She turned to face you as the man waved her off.

"Thank you so much for helping my husband."

"I killed most of them," he muttered quietly.

"Hush, dear." She smiled warmly. "My grandson, Abel, said you fell from the sky!"

The old man snorted. "That was probably a dead bird. She's probably some vagrant who took a nap in our orchard."

"She did fall from the sky!" Abel said, turning from the stew. "I saw it!"

"We believe you, dear," the grandmother said.

"She believes you, boy. Now get back to the stew. And as for you," the man said, facing you. "I don't take kindly to trespassers, but if it hadn't been for you it could have gotten bad. So, thank you. You can stay for the night."

"You can stay as long as you need," she said, thumping the man softly on the head. "Go wash up, there's a water trough in the back for that."
---
You kneel and stare into the trough. You wash yourself, and as the ripples subside you see:

[ ] Write-in. Describe shortly your gender and appearance. Doesn't have to be detailed. Also, human only.​
 
Last edited:
Male
Dark-skinned with lavender hair. dark green eyes,
a bit pudgy, stands roughly 5'7.

...What? It's human. A bit anime and out there even by our standards, but human.
 
[X] Male, Dark-skinned with lavender hair. dark green eyes, a bit pudgy, stands roughly 5'7.
 
Back
Top