[X] Seven years of Darkness have passed under one man who claimed ultimate power. The land itself twisted to his will, and the sole viable opposition to such tyranny is nowhere to be found. But a faint hope blossoms; rumors swell that a chosen Hero is to return, and its people will have their salvation...
Otherworldly Corruption (Darkest Dungeon/Legend of Zelda)
- Thread starter PranksterOliwar
- Start date
- Crossover
IV: Dealings of Blade and Tongue
PranksterOliwar
Pranks Not Included
- Location
- Houston
When next you become self-aware, you find yourself lying down. Soft, dew-covered grass presses against your back, and warm sunlight caresses your prone form. As eyes attempt reopening, the harsh brightness forces you to squint as your eyes adjust to the suddenly radiant environs. Only when sight returns in full do you at last learn of how drastically altered the world around you has become. Gone is the forest canopy, and the trees that leered and loomed from on high have vanished. Now the incandescent sun shines unimpeded on your prone form, sky clear and only partially clouded far above you.
Pressing your hands upon the verdant earth beneath, you raise yourself to a seated position to better observe the full extent of your unwilling relocation. From what you can see, the surrounding terrain is exceptionally mountainous; steep, rocky surfaces just out from the green earth, pockets of trees interspersed far below you, where a much flatter path seems to be carved through the mountains. You yourself seem to be propped fairly high above, though thankfully the mountaintop you find yourself stationed on is not perilously steep, allowing evacuation if necessary. More pressing, however, is the disconcerting knowledge that nothing is recognizable; the simple fact that no notable buildings or landmarks lay in site indicated an arrival to either an exceptionally rural local or, even more unfortunately, to an entirely uncharted land. Also, though far more distantly, you can just barely make out strange shapes moving about in the distance. They look humanoid, but something about the figures seem... off.
More nearby movement distracts you. To your relief, you find your men are close at hand, though similarly prone and groaning from the spontaneous disorientation. Staggering on anxious but uneasy legs, Dismas proves first in the bid to regain footing. After some moments of snapping a raven-haired brow from side to side in examination, the radical change in atmosphere seemingly dawns on the former brigand, judging from his widened eyes and slackened posture.
Slowly, but more steadily, you stand on your own feet and stride towards him, Reynauld content with rubbing his face from the ground for the moment. So wondrous does your more unscrupulous mercenary find this radical change in situation that he seems to barely register your presence. His gaze settles on you, but it is unfocused. Slack-jawed, even.
"...We're so high up", he utters softly. "Ain't ever seen such lands before. Where're we?"
Clicking your tongue, you cannot help from condescendingly shaking your head; to think such a soul would be so easily entranced by a mere sight is quite bemusing.
"Astute observations, Dismas", you respond dryly. "Perhaps you'd be interested in helping your lord answer those queries?"
To this, a blank stare is all he offers for a moment. Then, as though roused from lingering slumber, Dismas at last snaps from his daze, eyes blinking and gruffness returning to his voice. "Right. Sorry 'bout that, I was... anyway, fucked if I know what t'do. Got no idea where this is, or how we're gonna get back on track from 'ere. Might as well flip a coin, for all we know how to go 'bout things".
Grimacing, you try and ponder your possible courses of action. Though traversing the grassy mountaintop downwards is certainly possible, you would all have to take careful, measured steps to prevent painful catastrophe. Of further concern are the mysterious humanoids scattered across the green, mountainous lands; you have no assurance that they hold no ill intent, and even then you doubt they would either hear your voice from here or remain in place long enough for your trio to reach the bottom. You briefly reach into your coat pocket to check on your captive. The creature, both fortunately and unfortunately, seems to remain in the depths of Morpheus' domain. A shame, as her insight might elucidate you all as to this current predicament.
During your musings, the knight at last seems to have gathered his own wits as he comes to stand at attention by your side, armor clanking noisily until he halts in place.
"May I recommend a recourse, milord?" His voice is shaken, but resolute. You return your captive to its pocket and turn to Reynauld.
Offering the man a nod, he continues. "Though we know not our current location, this path might lead to settlement of some sort. For now, I believe it best to simply follow the path without risking harm reaching the bottom. The mountaintops along in that direction", he notes as he gestures to the path, pointing what you believe to be eastward if you have not mistaken the time of day and position of the sun, "seem relatively level, so if we travel henceforth, an easier path downwards may present itself".
Your other employee offers only a shrug in response, and you yourself lack any alternative solutions, so you nod in assent. Together, after ensuring all worldly possessions are present and secured, you slowly and steadily begin the march eastward. Again, you're not entirely sure if this path lies indeed eastward, but you will continue to assume so due to lack of any contradicting evidence. Besides, you had a blessed education as one of noble lineage; you were trained in all matters, including geography and navigation, and so like to think yourself gifted in knowing cardinal directions at the very least. In any case, the way is set, and you three depart with haste.
Though relatively level, travel through the mountainous terrain remains arduously slow for your tastes, Dismas once again assuming the lead. A chilly breeze brushes across your form, cool enough to make you thank your foresight in wearing your overcoat. Less fortuitously, you lack for means of passing the time, as neither of your companions are particularly conversational. To relieve boredom as precious time ticked by, you thus allowed your eyes to scan and sweep across the mountainside. Though mostly grey due to exposed stone, you also note that the color green dominates much of your surroundings; grass sprouts up in abundance, and occasional pockets of trees and shrubbery dot the landscape to notable degrees. You're somewhat curious how fertile the land may be.
However, just as you begin to hypothesis your possible locations and business ventures, Dismas calls for quiet. Listening, all three of you make out not so distant clanging sounds; a noise equal parts curious and concerning. Slowing to a crawl up ahead, your dual henchman gesture for you to remain a fair distance away. They no doubt predict trouble to be afoot.
As you progress towards the noise, you manage to see landscape ahead, as well as the perpetrating disturber of your silent trek. To your right, a sizable stream flows by noisily, a waterfall forming and flowing over a steep cliff. To your left, however, a more important site presents itself. Close at hand, two hooded figures - similarly garbed to your assailant back in the weald - are gathered around a strangely designed chest, the smaller of the duo butting the end of a shoddily constructed blunderbuss against the lock. Clearly, neither holds any experience in opening locks, judging from the mutual frustration both seem to be exhibiting. But far more important is what you spy in the background, behind the obvious brigands.
Windmills. A tower. And just barely peaking over some cliffs below, rooftops. A settlement at last!
Still, you suppose the more immediate matter must be addressed. Surprisingly, all three of you are able to sneak fairly close to the duo, possibly due to the rumble of the waterfall masking Reynauld's clanking armor. You're also fortuitously close enough to make out their conversation, if you strain your hearing.
"...wouldn't be takin' so long if ya had your picks, ya damn twit", chides the larger form. This one, you think, is most likely a superior of the other.
"I said I'm sorry, boss!" whines the smaller. "Not mah fault we was whisked away! Left all my 'picks in the old camp. Still tryin' to make heads 'n tails of where we is!"
Groaning, the larger man crosses his arms and turns away. "Whatever. Jus' hurry up 'fore I clock ya. Don' like stayin 'round in the open like this".
So, it would seem these brigands are strangers to this land as well. Perhaps even associates of the man who attempted to ambush you, though you have little evidence to support that hypothesis beyond superficial appearances. In any case, you doubt the duo would be willing to surrender to your custody peaceably. Leaving them to their own devices would additionally be utterly irresponsible for a man of your stature. Ultimately, it would seem violence is your only true recourse here. When your cohorts face you and request instruction, you permit them to subdue the bandits in any manner they deem fit. After a brief debate, Reyanuld stubbornly chose to take the lead and marched off to confront their foes, much to Dismas' disgruntlment, you note.
"Halt!" barks out the aged knight. "In the name of Baron Darkest, kneel or die!"
At the crusader's audacious proclamation, the duo before you whirl on their feet towards your direction. Startled, the smaller of the two stumbles over himself, muttering fretfully as he loads the apparently empty blunderbuss.
The larger man, by contrast, proves much more irritated. "Wha' in- What's this 'bout a Baron? You've got balls messin' with us, tin man! I'll grant ya that".
"Silence, cretin! I said kneel!" Reynauld raises his longsword threateningly, cold steel in his hand and tone in equal measure.
His opponent, however, merely offers a cruel smirk as he steps forward. "Nah, I don' think so, bucket head. I'm thinkin' you're intrudin' on our turf. But empty ya pockets, fancy pants, and I might be willin' to forget you three exist".
"T'think I thought y'were friendly folk", Dismas muses dryly as he then darts forward without warning.
Dismas proves the swift to action, his dagger darting forth and carving through the thick abdominal of the larger foe. Reflexively yelping, the victim steps back, blood trickling from the gash across his torso. Sensing a window of opportunity, Reynauld attempts to capitalize on his companion's strike, slamming down the pommel of his own blade in an attempt to incapacitate the leader. Unfortunately, his target remained alert, redirecting the blunt blow away from his brow into a muscular shoulder.
"Right", he barks out, grasping and unfurling a barbed whip. "Blast 'em to bits!"
His smaller subordinate grits yellowed teeth, taking aim and firing the rusted gun in seconds. The shell scatters and scrapes both of your cohorts, though they thankfully endured most of the blow. A savage gleam in his eye, the larger foe then lashes out at the knight with intent to maim, only for Reynauld to bat the whip away with a cold steel blade.
Reeling from the counter strike, the behemoth is caught unprepared by a second strike from your highwayman. The dagger finds deep purchase, and a bellowing cry of anguish spills forth from the large brigand as blood further gushes from his torso. As a pseudo coup de grâce , Reynauld then buries his longsword between sizable pectoral muscles, tearing open yet more scarred flesh and forcing the foe to a knee, desperately and hopelessly struggling to staunch the flow.
Seeing his superior's dire straits, the lackey fires a second shell upon the knight's armored form, staggering him and denting the iron shell. Alas, he is helpless to aid the larger foe, as said brigand is once more struck by Dismas, offering only an errant flail of an arm as resistance. Easily dodged, he at last collapses, having lost too much precious life fluid to remain conscious.
Panicked, the remaining foe rushes out a third shot, only this time missing entirely. Third and last, it would prove, as your duo pounced on the outnumbered cretin and made short, grizzly work of the pest.
The battle at last reaching its inevitable conclusion, you all take a few moments to rest and scan your surroundings for further opposition. Position and isolation secured, you at last turn your attention to the mysterious chest the bandits had attempted to compromise.
From appearances alone, you can certainly ascertain why the now deceased criminals exerted so much effort attempting to plunder its contents. The silver chest is immaculately ornate, rimmed with gold and enticingly glimmering. No doubt even the most immaterial of souls would be attracted to such a display.
You are thus not surprised when Dismas eagerly sets upon it, examining the box for any lock or trap awaiting. You wonder if perhaps he is too eager in his efforts, but ultimately shrug and consider the chest officially part of the spoils, considering it has no proper owner. Or at least none that is plainly obvious.
Trusting the highwayman to be competent at his task, you silently join Reynauld in searching through the deceased's pockets. Aside from their weapons, the fallen duo seemed only to carry a various assortment of gems much the same as those you had found in the tent earlier. The only exception among the unfamiliar jewels is a single, glimmering citrine. A comparison of material value will certainly be needed once you locate a banker. Less fortunately, the aforementioned weapons prove to be of little use; both of your mercenaries shared their level of training when recruited, and neither skill-sets included that of a whip or a blunderbuss. Not that the later could be used anyway, as you find that the ballistic device had been so poorly constructed and maintained that it practically fell to pieces in your hands. How anyone could wield such a thing was beyond you, but the point was moot, you suppose.
Once the looting had concluded, you both returned to Dismas' side to check on his progress.
"Looks safe 'nough", he assures, grasping the edge of the lid and begging to lift it open. "Let's go on 'n see wha-"
A hiss and fume of noxious gas interrupts the highwayman then, blasting open the chest and colliding directly into unfortunate soul's face. Mere seconds pass as Dismas is reduced to a coughing wreck on his knees, you and Reynauld being fortunate enough to avoid similar fates with instinctive retreats.
"Sonuva - *hack* bitch!" the man chokes out. Before long, though, Reynauld is at his partners side and assessing all his viable methods of assistance. Lifting his helm to examine the patient more closely, you can see the frown deepen on his features.
"Are you trained in proper medical procedure?" You cannot help but inquire.
Without even looking at you, he offers a prideful retort over the pained hacking sounds coming from Dismas' plagued throat. "Of course I know what I'm doing, I'm a soldier!"
After a while of wary observation - during which the knight doesn't do much, you note - he shakes his head and delivers a confident diagnosis. "Seems to me this man has been plagued with a minor poison. He won't die, but with nae a vial of antidote, there's nothing to be done 'til it wears out on its own". After a pause, he hesitantly adds one last piece of mind to his patient. "Incidentally, if ye do perish, I can perform last rites".
Continuing to hack up his own lungs, the highwayman managed to shoot his cohort the most withering glare he could muster. He could do no more, however, before the unexpected interrupted him.
The lid of the chest suddenly slammed shut, starling you all as a humanoid figure leapt atop the ornate container. Immediately, Reynauld is on his feet and in front of the still kneeling patient, whirling around along with you towards this mysterious mischief-maker. Once you both ascertain who stands before you, your crusader growls contemptuously at the stranger before you.
"Imp! You dare return!?" He barks out. This must be none other than the mysterious interloper he saw back in the weald, then.
Were you to judge this man based entirely on the wardrobe, you wouldn't think much of him. His clothes were of an appearance quite commonplace among the plebeian masses: ragged, stained, and lacking any semblance of frilly decor you've witnessed among those of higher class. Such an individual resorting to petty thievery is both unremarkable and unsurprising.
But you hardly pay his dress a passing glance, for what truly engulfs your attention above all else is that which lies upon the face. Reynauld was mistaken: the face was not heart-shaped. Rather, if it was, his facial countenance was hidden behind a distinctly heart-shaped mask. Everything the garb was, this mask was not: vibrant in color, visually distinct, and utterly encapsulating in its mysticism. The painted "eyes" in particular practically radiated intense energy, to the point you swear they were glowing. Pin prick pupils were surrounded by small forest green irises, encircled in turn by bright yellow-orange whites. The way they seem to pierce you, seeing straight into your ethereal being...
Your trance thankfully doesn't last too long before the newcomer himself breaks the unspoken spell with words of his own.
"Boy", he remarks snidely in a distorted, reedy voice. "You three sure are impulsive, ain't ya? Not one day goes by before you pounce on poor gents mindin' their own business and try to take things that ain't yours. Very rude of you all". He takes a seat upon said chest and lazily leans to one side, propped upon a single arm. "Good thing I followed you here then. Lord knows how much trouble you'd be on your own. Good taste in scenery though. I can definitely see myself with a summer home here".
"Silence, thief!" snaps your crusader, thoroughly annoyed at the disrespectful tone of voice. "Surrender yourself and your ill-gotten possessions, or taste my steel!"
The stranger seems thoroughly unimpressed by the threat, however. "Hmm? Surrender to you idiots? Didn't say the magic word, tin man. Can't prove I did anything wrong, anyway. Everything I have is mine, I'm pretty sure". Here, he pauses, as if confirming the validity of his own words in his mind.
As he does so, Dismas chooses the opportunity to speak his mind, recovering from his illness enough to stand on his own, knife drawn at the ready. "Don't be so - *hack* - cocky, ya shit! This tin man saw ya messin' with me unconscious body. Says y'took my flintlock; I'll be takin' that back, if y'don't mind".
"Oh? Was that you? Gee, since I found this beauty", the stranger remarks coyly, tapping on the surface of the mask, "you lot really have all looked the same t'me. And that toy? Really, you dropped that, more than anythin'. That's just irresponsible. Can't ya just buy another one?"
When the highwayman's scowl only deepens in response, he continues just as the deadly duo begin advancing on his position. "Hey, no need for horseplay! Not that you can do much anyway, but I'm willin' to part bloodlessly. I'm curious though..." Here, he addresses you directly. "Oy, mister mute. You in charge? You look it, if the fancy clothes say somethin'".
A grimace graces your features as an uneasy sensation builds in your innards. Still, you manage to keep your own tone even as you address the interloper. "I am their lord, yes. As well as yours, if you are a resident of the Darkest Hamlet. If you know what's good for your pitiful health, you'll do as the good ser instructed and surrender yourself to my custody".
A hum exits a throat hidden behin the mask. "Ah, the new baron, then? Seems I hit the jackpot all right. I have no lords, I'm afraid. I like being my own boss, personally. But that's not important, of course. Shouldn't forget how your kind like feelin' important. So here's a query from a lowly, but humble man, if ya don't mind".
Here, he leans forward, arms resting upon his knees. Somehow, those painted eyes seem to pierce ever more deeply into your being. "These two. What do ya think about them? Do you like them? Love them, hate them? Do you even care whether they live or die?"
Your brow reflexively furrows at the perplexing question. "These gentlemen? I hardly know them. They entered my service just the other day. What concern is it of yours?"
His head tilts, absorbing your words. "...Is that right? Ok", he announces, suddenly leaping to his feet, flintlock spontaneously twirling around his fingers. You all flinch at the sudden motion, but otherwise stand your ground as he continues fiddling with the weapon, index finger notably distanced from the trigger. "Let me ask somthin' else. Now, I'll give back the toy if you answer this one. Promise. Which of the two is your favorite?"
Though uneasy, you fail to hide the irritation you feel at the inquiry. "I just declared I hardly know them. What is this petty game of yours, imp?"
"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little heads about that", he dismisses the query casually. "I'll ask one more time. Which of one do you like more, of these two?"
It would seem this bizarre stranger is incessant in harrying your journey. The pest certainly seems to be hiding important knowledge, if the ill feeling in your own gut is any indication. Fortunately, he's not behaving aggressively, at least for the moment, and seems to be willing to let you formulate a proper response. Still, you need to carefully consider your approach to this uncertain situation. Though not overtly dangerous, his confident and condescending behavior indicates he's not afraid of combat, in spite of how low you think the odds of him winning against your men in battle be.
Ultimately, you decide on a course of action.
[ ] Enough of this insolence. You will put this petty thief in his place, and take what is rightfully yours by force! You have no doubt Reynauld and Dismas are more than enough to defeat a single brigand. (Enter Combat)
[ ] You suppose you can humor this stranger. The query seems to be harmless enough, and he seems merely mischievous, as opposed to outright malevolent.
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Reynauld is your favored employee.
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Dismas is your favored employee.
- [ ] You insist to the stranger that neither man is your favored employee.
[ ] Lie to the stranger. Harmless as the query is, he has no business involving himself in your affairs. Additionally, if mischief lies in wait, a deception will deter his efforts.
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Reynauld is your favored employee.
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Dismas is your favored employee.
- [ ] You insist to the stranger that neither man is your favored employee.
[ ] Perhaps you can bargain with this stranger. The man might know more than he lets on, and whatever intel you can gain on your current predicament would be invaluable.
- [ ] What trade do you propose?
[ ] Something Else? (Write-in)
Party gains +125 gems?
Party gains +1 citrine
Pressing your hands upon the verdant earth beneath, you raise yourself to a seated position to better observe the full extent of your unwilling relocation. From what you can see, the surrounding terrain is exceptionally mountainous; steep, rocky surfaces just out from the green earth, pockets of trees interspersed far below you, where a much flatter path seems to be carved through the mountains. You yourself seem to be propped fairly high above, though thankfully the mountaintop you find yourself stationed on is not perilously steep, allowing evacuation if necessary. More pressing, however, is the disconcerting knowledge that nothing is recognizable; the simple fact that no notable buildings or landmarks lay in site indicated an arrival to either an exceptionally rural local or, even more unfortunately, to an entirely uncharted land. Also, though far more distantly, you can just barely make out strange shapes moving about in the distance. They look humanoid, but something about the figures seem... off.
More nearby movement distracts you. To your relief, you find your men are close at hand, though similarly prone and groaning from the spontaneous disorientation. Staggering on anxious but uneasy legs, Dismas proves first in the bid to regain footing. After some moments of snapping a raven-haired brow from side to side in examination, the radical change in atmosphere seemingly dawns on the former brigand, judging from his widened eyes and slackened posture.
Slowly, but more steadily, you stand on your own feet and stride towards him, Reynauld content with rubbing his face from the ground for the moment. So wondrous does your more unscrupulous mercenary find this radical change in situation that he seems to barely register your presence. His gaze settles on you, but it is unfocused. Slack-jawed, even.
"...We're so high up", he utters softly. "Ain't ever seen such lands before. Where're we?"
Clicking your tongue, you cannot help from condescendingly shaking your head; to think such a soul would be so easily entranced by a mere sight is quite bemusing.
"Astute observations, Dismas", you respond dryly. "Perhaps you'd be interested in helping your lord answer those queries?"
To this, a blank stare is all he offers for a moment. Then, as though roused from lingering slumber, Dismas at last snaps from his daze, eyes blinking and gruffness returning to his voice. "Right. Sorry 'bout that, I was... anyway, fucked if I know what t'do. Got no idea where this is, or how we're gonna get back on track from 'ere. Might as well flip a coin, for all we know how to go 'bout things".
Grimacing, you try and ponder your possible courses of action. Though traversing the grassy mountaintop downwards is certainly possible, you would all have to take careful, measured steps to prevent painful catastrophe. Of further concern are the mysterious humanoids scattered across the green, mountainous lands; you have no assurance that they hold no ill intent, and even then you doubt they would either hear your voice from here or remain in place long enough for your trio to reach the bottom. You briefly reach into your coat pocket to check on your captive. The creature, both fortunately and unfortunately, seems to remain in the depths of Morpheus' domain. A shame, as her insight might elucidate you all as to this current predicament.
During your musings, the knight at last seems to have gathered his own wits as he comes to stand at attention by your side, armor clanking noisily until he halts in place.
"May I recommend a recourse, milord?" His voice is shaken, but resolute. You return your captive to its pocket and turn to Reynauld.
Offering the man a nod, he continues. "Though we know not our current location, this path might lead to settlement of some sort. For now, I believe it best to simply follow the path without risking harm reaching the bottom. The mountaintops along in that direction", he notes as he gestures to the path, pointing what you believe to be eastward if you have not mistaken the time of day and position of the sun, "seem relatively level, so if we travel henceforth, an easier path downwards may present itself".
Your other employee offers only a shrug in response, and you yourself lack any alternative solutions, so you nod in assent. Together, after ensuring all worldly possessions are present and secured, you slowly and steadily begin the march eastward. Again, you're not entirely sure if this path lies indeed eastward, but you will continue to assume so due to lack of any contradicting evidence. Besides, you had a blessed education as one of noble lineage; you were trained in all matters, including geography and navigation, and so like to think yourself gifted in knowing cardinal directions at the very least. In any case, the way is set, and you three depart with haste.
Though relatively level, travel through the mountainous terrain remains arduously slow for your tastes, Dismas once again assuming the lead. A chilly breeze brushes across your form, cool enough to make you thank your foresight in wearing your overcoat. Less fortuitously, you lack for means of passing the time, as neither of your companions are particularly conversational. To relieve boredom as precious time ticked by, you thus allowed your eyes to scan and sweep across the mountainside. Though mostly grey due to exposed stone, you also note that the color green dominates much of your surroundings; grass sprouts up in abundance, and occasional pockets of trees and shrubbery dot the landscape to notable degrees. You're somewhat curious how fertile the land may be.
However, just as you begin to hypothesis your possible locations and business ventures, Dismas calls for quiet. Listening, all three of you make out not so distant clanging sounds; a noise equal parts curious and concerning. Slowing to a crawl up ahead, your dual henchman gesture for you to remain a fair distance away. They no doubt predict trouble to be afoot.
As you progress towards the noise, you manage to see landscape ahead, as well as the perpetrating disturber of your silent trek. To your right, a sizable stream flows by noisily, a waterfall forming and flowing over a steep cliff. To your left, however, a more important site presents itself. Close at hand, two hooded figures - similarly garbed to your assailant back in the weald - are gathered around a strangely designed chest, the smaller of the duo butting the end of a shoddily constructed blunderbuss against the lock. Clearly, neither holds any experience in opening locks, judging from the mutual frustration both seem to be exhibiting. But far more important is what you spy in the background, behind the obvious brigands.
Windmills. A tower. And just barely peaking over some cliffs below, rooftops. A settlement at last!
Still, you suppose the more immediate matter must be addressed. Surprisingly, all three of you are able to sneak fairly close to the duo, possibly due to the rumble of the waterfall masking Reynauld's clanking armor. You're also fortuitously close enough to make out their conversation, if you strain your hearing.
"...wouldn't be takin' so long if ya had your picks, ya damn twit", chides the larger form. This one, you think, is most likely a superior of the other.
"I said I'm sorry, boss!" whines the smaller. "Not mah fault we was whisked away! Left all my 'picks in the old camp. Still tryin' to make heads 'n tails of where we is!"
Groaning, the larger man crosses his arms and turns away. "Whatever. Jus' hurry up 'fore I clock ya. Don' like stayin 'round in the open like this".
So, it would seem these brigands are strangers to this land as well. Perhaps even associates of the man who attempted to ambush you, though you have little evidence to support that hypothesis beyond superficial appearances. In any case, you doubt the duo would be willing to surrender to your custody peaceably. Leaving them to their own devices would additionally be utterly irresponsible for a man of your stature. Ultimately, it would seem violence is your only true recourse here. When your cohorts face you and request instruction, you permit them to subdue the bandits in any manner they deem fit. After a brief debate, Reyanuld stubbornly chose to take the lead and marched off to confront their foes, much to Dismas' disgruntlment, you note.
"Halt!" barks out the aged knight. "In the name of Baron Darkest, kneel or die!"
At the crusader's audacious proclamation, the duo before you whirl on their feet towards your direction. Startled, the smaller of the two stumbles over himself, muttering fretfully as he loads the apparently empty blunderbuss.
The larger man, by contrast, proves much more irritated. "Wha' in- What's this 'bout a Baron? You've got balls messin' with us, tin man! I'll grant ya that".
"Silence, cretin! I said kneel!" Reynauld raises his longsword threateningly, cold steel in his hand and tone in equal measure.
His opponent, however, merely offers a cruel smirk as he steps forward. "Nah, I don' think so, bucket head. I'm thinkin' you're intrudin' on our turf. But empty ya pockets, fancy pants, and I might be willin' to forget you three exist".
"T'think I thought y'were friendly folk", Dismas muses dryly as he then darts forward without warning.
Dismas proves the swift to action, his dagger darting forth and carving through the thick abdominal of the larger foe. Reflexively yelping, the victim steps back, blood trickling from the gash across his torso. Sensing a window of opportunity, Reynauld attempts to capitalize on his companion's strike, slamming down the pommel of his own blade in an attempt to incapacitate the leader. Unfortunately, his target remained alert, redirecting the blunt blow away from his brow into a muscular shoulder.
"Right", he barks out, grasping and unfurling a barbed whip. "Blast 'em to bits!"
His smaller subordinate grits yellowed teeth, taking aim and firing the rusted gun in seconds. The shell scatters and scrapes both of your cohorts, though they thankfully endured most of the blow. A savage gleam in his eye, the larger foe then lashes out at the knight with intent to maim, only for Reynauld to bat the whip away with a cold steel blade.
Reeling from the counter strike, the behemoth is caught unprepared by a second strike from your highwayman. The dagger finds deep purchase, and a bellowing cry of anguish spills forth from the large brigand as blood further gushes from his torso. As a pseudo coup de grâce , Reynauld then buries his longsword between sizable pectoral muscles, tearing open yet more scarred flesh and forcing the foe to a knee, desperately and hopelessly struggling to staunch the flow.
Seeing his superior's dire straits, the lackey fires a second shell upon the knight's armored form, staggering him and denting the iron shell. Alas, he is helpless to aid the larger foe, as said brigand is once more struck by Dismas, offering only an errant flail of an arm as resistance. Easily dodged, he at last collapses, having lost too much precious life fluid to remain conscious.
Panicked, the remaining foe rushes out a third shot, only this time missing entirely. Third and last, it would prove, as your duo pounced on the outnumbered cretin and made short, grizzly work of the pest.
The battle at last reaching its inevitable conclusion, you all take a few moments to rest and scan your surroundings for further opposition. Position and isolation secured, you at last turn your attention to the mysterious chest the bandits had attempted to compromise.
From appearances alone, you can certainly ascertain why the now deceased criminals exerted so much effort attempting to plunder its contents. The silver chest is immaculately ornate, rimmed with gold and enticingly glimmering. No doubt even the most immaterial of souls would be attracted to such a display.
You are thus not surprised when Dismas eagerly sets upon it, examining the box for any lock or trap awaiting. You wonder if perhaps he is too eager in his efforts, but ultimately shrug and consider the chest officially part of the spoils, considering it has no proper owner. Or at least none that is plainly obvious.
Trusting the highwayman to be competent at his task, you silently join Reynauld in searching through the deceased's pockets. Aside from their weapons, the fallen duo seemed only to carry a various assortment of gems much the same as those you had found in the tent earlier. The only exception among the unfamiliar jewels is a single, glimmering citrine. A comparison of material value will certainly be needed once you locate a banker. Less fortunately, the aforementioned weapons prove to be of little use; both of your mercenaries shared their level of training when recruited, and neither skill-sets included that of a whip or a blunderbuss. Not that the later could be used anyway, as you find that the ballistic device had been so poorly constructed and maintained that it practically fell to pieces in your hands. How anyone could wield such a thing was beyond you, but the point was moot, you suppose.
Once the looting had concluded, you both returned to Dismas' side to check on his progress.
"Looks safe 'nough", he assures, grasping the edge of the lid and begging to lift it open. "Let's go on 'n see wha-"
A hiss and fume of noxious gas interrupts the highwayman then, blasting open the chest and colliding directly into unfortunate soul's face. Mere seconds pass as Dismas is reduced to a coughing wreck on his knees, you and Reynauld being fortunate enough to avoid similar fates with instinctive retreats.
"Sonuva - *hack* bitch!" the man chokes out. Before long, though, Reynauld is at his partners side and assessing all his viable methods of assistance. Lifting his helm to examine the patient more closely, you can see the frown deepen on his features.
"Are you trained in proper medical procedure?" You cannot help but inquire.
Without even looking at you, he offers a prideful retort over the pained hacking sounds coming from Dismas' plagued throat. "Of course I know what I'm doing, I'm a soldier!"
After a while of wary observation - during which the knight doesn't do much, you note - he shakes his head and delivers a confident diagnosis. "Seems to me this man has been plagued with a minor poison. He won't die, but with nae a vial of antidote, there's nothing to be done 'til it wears out on its own". After a pause, he hesitantly adds one last piece of mind to his patient. "Incidentally, if ye do perish, I can perform last rites".
Continuing to hack up his own lungs, the highwayman managed to shoot his cohort the most withering glare he could muster. He could do no more, however, before the unexpected interrupted him.
The lid of the chest suddenly slammed shut, starling you all as a humanoid figure leapt atop the ornate container. Immediately, Reynauld is on his feet and in front of the still kneeling patient, whirling around along with you towards this mysterious mischief-maker. Once you both ascertain who stands before you, your crusader growls contemptuously at the stranger before you.
"Imp! You dare return!?" He barks out. This must be none other than the mysterious interloper he saw back in the weald, then.
Were you to judge this man based entirely on the wardrobe, you wouldn't think much of him. His clothes were of an appearance quite commonplace among the plebeian masses: ragged, stained, and lacking any semblance of frilly decor you've witnessed among those of higher class. Such an individual resorting to petty thievery is both unremarkable and unsurprising.
But you hardly pay his dress a passing glance, for what truly engulfs your attention above all else is that which lies upon the face. Reynauld was mistaken: the face was not heart-shaped. Rather, if it was, his facial countenance was hidden behind a distinctly heart-shaped mask. Everything the garb was, this mask was not: vibrant in color, visually distinct, and utterly encapsulating in its mysticism. The painted "eyes" in particular practically radiated intense energy, to the point you swear they were glowing. Pin prick pupils were surrounded by small forest green irises, encircled in turn by bright yellow-orange whites. The way they seem to pierce you, seeing straight into your ethereal being...
Your trance thankfully doesn't last too long before the newcomer himself breaks the unspoken spell with words of his own.
"Boy", he remarks snidely in a distorted, reedy voice. "You three sure are impulsive, ain't ya? Not one day goes by before you pounce on poor gents mindin' their own business and try to take things that ain't yours. Very rude of you all". He takes a seat upon said chest and lazily leans to one side, propped upon a single arm. "Good thing I followed you here then. Lord knows how much trouble you'd be on your own. Good taste in scenery though. I can definitely see myself with a summer home here".
"Silence, thief!" snaps your crusader, thoroughly annoyed at the disrespectful tone of voice. "Surrender yourself and your ill-gotten possessions, or taste my steel!"
The stranger seems thoroughly unimpressed by the threat, however. "Hmm? Surrender to you idiots? Didn't say the magic word, tin man. Can't prove I did anything wrong, anyway. Everything I have is mine, I'm pretty sure". Here, he pauses, as if confirming the validity of his own words in his mind.
As he does so, Dismas chooses the opportunity to speak his mind, recovering from his illness enough to stand on his own, knife drawn at the ready. "Don't be so - *hack* - cocky, ya shit! This tin man saw ya messin' with me unconscious body. Says y'took my flintlock; I'll be takin' that back, if y'don't mind".
"Oh? Was that you? Gee, since I found this beauty", the stranger remarks coyly, tapping on the surface of the mask, "you lot really have all looked the same t'me. And that toy? Really, you dropped that, more than anythin'. That's just irresponsible. Can't ya just buy another one?"
When the highwayman's scowl only deepens in response, he continues just as the deadly duo begin advancing on his position. "Hey, no need for horseplay! Not that you can do much anyway, but I'm willin' to part bloodlessly. I'm curious though..." Here, he addresses you directly. "Oy, mister mute. You in charge? You look it, if the fancy clothes say somethin'".
A grimace graces your features as an uneasy sensation builds in your innards. Still, you manage to keep your own tone even as you address the interloper. "I am their lord, yes. As well as yours, if you are a resident of the Darkest Hamlet. If you know what's good for your pitiful health, you'll do as the good ser instructed and surrender yourself to my custody".
A hum exits a throat hidden behin the mask. "Ah, the new baron, then? Seems I hit the jackpot all right. I have no lords, I'm afraid. I like being my own boss, personally. But that's not important, of course. Shouldn't forget how your kind like feelin' important. So here's a query from a lowly, but humble man, if ya don't mind".
Here, he leans forward, arms resting upon his knees. Somehow, those painted eyes seem to pierce ever more deeply into your being. "These two. What do ya think about them? Do you like them? Love them, hate them? Do you even care whether they live or die?"
Your brow reflexively furrows at the perplexing question. "These gentlemen? I hardly know them. They entered my service just the other day. What concern is it of yours?"
His head tilts, absorbing your words. "...Is that right? Ok", he announces, suddenly leaping to his feet, flintlock spontaneously twirling around his fingers. You all flinch at the sudden motion, but otherwise stand your ground as he continues fiddling with the weapon, index finger notably distanced from the trigger. "Let me ask somthin' else. Now, I'll give back the toy if you answer this one. Promise. Which of the two is your favorite?"
Though uneasy, you fail to hide the irritation you feel at the inquiry. "I just declared I hardly know them. What is this petty game of yours, imp?"
"Oh, don't you worry your pretty little heads about that", he dismisses the query casually. "I'll ask one more time. Which of one do you like more, of these two?"
It would seem this bizarre stranger is incessant in harrying your journey. The pest certainly seems to be hiding important knowledge, if the ill feeling in your own gut is any indication. Fortunately, he's not behaving aggressively, at least for the moment, and seems to be willing to let you formulate a proper response. Still, you need to carefully consider your approach to this uncertain situation. Though not overtly dangerous, his confident and condescending behavior indicates he's not afraid of combat, in spite of how low you think the odds of him winning against your men in battle be.
Ultimately, you decide on a course of action.
[ ] Enough of this insolence. You will put this petty thief in his place, and take what is rightfully yours by force! You have no doubt Reynauld and Dismas are more than enough to defeat a single brigand. (Enter Combat)
[ ] You suppose you can humor this stranger. The query seems to be harmless enough, and he seems merely mischievous, as opposed to outright malevolent.
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Reynauld is your favored employee.
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Dismas is your favored employee.
- [ ] You insist to the stranger that neither man is your favored employee.
[ ] Lie to the stranger. Harmless as the query is, he has no business involving himself in your affairs. Additionally, if mischief lies in wait, a deception will deter his efforts.
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Reynauld is your favored employee.
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Dismas is your favored employee.
- [ ] You insist to the stranger that neither man is your favored employee.
[ ] Perhaps you can bargain with this stranger. The man might know more than he lets on, and whatever intel you can gain on your current predicament would be invaluable.
- [ ] What trade do you propose?
[ ] Something Else? (Write-in)
Party gains +125 gems?
Party gains +1 citrine
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Probably just the paranoia talking, but this sounds suspiciously like a Come Unto Your Maker decision: Majora's been shown to be cruel enough for it. Unfortunately, he's also a final-boss tier eldritch entity, not something we want to mess with.
[X] Something Else?
-[X] Walk away. This stranger is too confident in the face of threats: as if he knows something you don't. While your pride chaffs under the mockery, your life is more important, and your not interested in playing his games. Besides, you can always get another flintlock.
[X] Something Else?
-[X] Walk away. This stranger is too confident in the face of threats: as if he knows something you don't. While your pride chaffs under the mockery, your life is more important, and your not interested in playing his games. Besides, you can always get another flintlock.
[X] Something Else?
-[X] Walk away. This stranger is too confident in the face of threats: as if he knows something you don't. While your pride chaffs under the mockery, your life is more important, and your not interested in playing his games. Besides, you can always get another flintlock.
-[X] Walk away. This stranger is too confident in the face of threats: as if he knows something you don't. While your pride chaffs under the mockery, your life is more important, and your not interested in playing his games. Besides, you can always get another flintlock.
Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[X] Something Else?
-[X] Walk away. This stranger is too confident in the face of threats: as if he knows something you don't. While your pride chaffs under the mockery, your life is more important, and your not interested in playing his games. Besides, you can always get another flintlock.
-[X] Walk away. This stranger is too confident in the face of threats: as if he knows something you don't. While your pride chaffs under the mockery, your life is more important, and your not interested in playing his games. Besides, you can always get another flintlock.
- Location
- California
[X] Something Else?
-[X] Walk away. This stranger is too confident in the face of threats: as if he knows something you don't. While your pride chaffs under the mockery, your life is more important, and your not interested in playing his games. Besides, you can always get another flintlock.
-[X] Walk away. This stranger is too confident in the face of threats: as if he knows something you don't. While your pride chaffs under the mockery, your life is more important, and your not interested in playing his games. Besides, you can always get another flintlock.
[X] Something Else?
-[X] Walk away. This stranger is too confident in the face of threats: as if he knows something you don't. While your pride chaffs under the mockery, your life is more important, and your not interested in playing his games. Besides, you can always get another flintlock.
-[X] Walk away. This stranger is too confident in the face of threats: as if he knows something you don't. While your pride chaffs under the mockery, your life is more important, and your not interested in playing his games. Besides, you can always get another flintlock.
V: The Only Winning Move...
PranksterOliwar
Pranks Not Included
- Location
- Houston
Immediately, you can discern that the man before you is no mere mischievous looter. Though you cannot determine what exactly the stranger has in store for the three of you, the unnerving energy emanating from the mask is clearly eldritch in nature. You must act carefully here if you wish to avoid catastrophe.
One one hand, you three could assault him, attempt to take him by surprise before he can enact his foul designs. You quickly right that option off, however; his bemusedly cheery confidence alone and in the presence of two battle-hardened mercenaries makes it clear he is more than prepared for violent confrontation. Since the duo are you only means of defense and law enforcement, you have no wish to risk losing them in an unnecessary struggle.
You could converse with him. Even if you deign to ignore his curious query, you could attempt to bargain or reason with him. But would that be playing to his expectations? Is he trying to manipulate or tick you into revealing something you shouldn't? The piercing, predatory stare of those yellow-orange eyes certainly makes this entire scenario seem somewhat Faustian in nature. So no, you would rather not play this demented game, however it works.
It would seem any attempt at interaction would most likely conclude in greater peril, you decide. This revelation brings an alternative to mind, though...
What if you simply... walked away?
You grimace at the thought; you'd prefer not to, as such a recourse is essentially an admittance of defeat. Not in a military sense, of course, but it would certainly humiliate you and your men to acknowledge that a mere pleb, criminal or otherwise, stole from from nobility and escaped justice. But there are simply too many uncertain factors at play: an unknown land, unknown peoples and dangers, and unknown means of returning home, reclaiming the birthright. Ultimately, what is one loss of a mere flintlock when the fate of you and your people might hang in the balance?
Huffing, you turn on your heel and wave to your cohorts to follow you onward, not deigning to dignify the stranger's words with a retort.
Neither of them seem to take the decision well. Dismas contents himself with growling in frustration, but Reyanuld sputters out a vocal protest. "Milord! You're simply allowing this filthy imp to go about his foul business?! This matter is more than just mere petty thievery..."
"Indeed it is", you stoically reply, looking over your shoulder at the knight. "I do not trust this man to act decent. He hides much and foul power lurks within that mask. We have too many important matters that must be addressed to risk our lives over a single weapon".
"I-I... Lord Darkest..."
Dismas chooses that instant to clap his comrade in arms across the back. "Jus' let it go, mate. He's right. Shames me t'admit it, but it's really not worth it". As he continues onward, he chooses to add one last comment to the stranger just as he passes you by. "Pray we ne'er meet 'gain, wanker".
At this, Reynauld reluctantly sighs in defeat and rejoins you. The stranger, oddly quiet up until this point, hollers an annoyed protest as you depart. "Oy, you seriouesly leavin' already? I asked you a question, moneybags!"
Again, you deny the cretin a response, continuing after the highwayman on the unpaved path ahead. The thief manages one more declaration just as you leave hearing range. "RUDE! Raised in a barn, ya'll are! Don't think this is over!"
A roll of your eyes is all you have in response to that. The man did nothing to stop you from leaving, so he must be more bark than bite. No doubt he'll stew for a moment before inevitably getting bored and taking his wearisome mischief elsewhere.
You breathe a sigh of relief as you finally lose sight of the masked cretin, turning to follow your comrades through the mountain pass and allowing thoughts on the settlement awaiting you to enter your mind. A glass of wine is sorely needed after all your perilous experiences.
What followed was the most miserable traveling experience you ever had the displeasure of embarking upon. The mountainside pathway grew incessantly more perilous to navigate, growing impossibly steep and requiring numerous detours frequently. Though little time was required to identify a way onward, the increasingly unbearable conditions of travel seriously dampened morale; already physically taxed from the previous events of that very same day, the uneven ground and ever frigid air killed extensive conversation and befouled everyone's moods. Reynauld perhaps suffered worst of all, having to additionally contend with the notable weight of his own iron armor as he navigated the mountainous passage, struggling at points to elevate himself past nature's earthen obstructions. You and Dismas fared little better, however, and were just as desperate for any relief from your plight.
"God damn", the aforementioned highwayman groaned in exasperation, "will this ever end!? Feels like we been here f'days"!
Far from amused, the knight gruffly admonished his cohort. "Hush, you. At least this be no battlefield. I'd take tall stone over raining arrows any day".
Dismas only grunted in response and continued onward, increasingly desperate to find some means of exit from our mountainous prison. Incidentally, he seemed to have discovered one shortly afterward; he gazed slightly downward to one side before excitedly calling you forward, pointing to his find. "There! I think we're finally low 'nough to get off this rock! Very least, it's a change a scenery!"
Bemused, but not protesting, you and Reynauld follow the man, grasping the cliff below and easing yourselves down. Anxious and hopeful, you descend quick as is humanly possible down to the point of interest. What you do see is certainly encouraging; in contrast to the dull grays and browns of the surrounding mountains, the vibrant green like that of the valley you witnessed earlier greats your tired eyes. Eventually, your footfalls finally make contact with the site to find...
The place you had just departed. Same shrubbery. Same waterfall. Same chest. Same distant settlement.
And most infuriatingly of all, the same wretched, hateful stranger awaits you, barely having moved from his lounging spot. Spying you all emerging, he waves in a manner that somehow seems both cheerful and mocking.
For their part, both your guards seem equal parts shocked and enraged. Reynauld sputters in indignation and begins grasping at the pommel of his longsword, torn between leaving it there and tearing the blade from its sheath. Dismas instead chooses to vocalize his displeasure. "... Wh- how in- FUCK me!" he exclaims in exasperation. "What Light-damned sense does that make!? This-"
However, the rant ends as abruptly as it began, the highwayman freezing in place once he turned around. Turning around yourself to follow his gaze, you suddenly empathize greatly with his distress.
The mountainous path you followed is gone. In it's place is nothing other than some shrubbery before the imposing, imperial stature of the mountain.
For what seems like the passage of eons, you three simply stand in slack-jawed bewilderment. You struggle to even process your terrible luck. How is this possible? Do you dare even consider if all of the previous journey was a mere hallucination? The former unspoken inquiry causes your attention to snap back in the direction of your mysterious tormentor. You had sensed eldritch tidings from the stranger before, and now your fears were beginning to crystallize...
Before you can even formulate a proper response, however, your Crusader unsheathes his sword and marches unhesitatingly towards the chest. Shaken from your daze, you and Dismas follow the grizzled veteren, though your tongue remain tied. Once you have all returned to your previous positions before the thief Reynauld all but roars at the relaxed figure standing before you all.
"You", he declares. "You will cease tormenting us or die, you wretched imp!"
For his part, the stranger merely tilts his head in faux curiosity. "Whaddaya mean? I was jus' hanging out here. You guys just up and decided to go on without knowing the path ahead".
You frown suspiciously at this claim, and at last find your own words. "Then you knew an impossible path lay in store?"
A scoff answers you. "Didn't mean a literal path, moneybags. See, I don't really like bein' ignored, so I thought I'd give you just a taste of what I'm capable of. The mask isn't for show, y'know. I told you not to think this was over. Now, you feel like playing nice yet?" He then places his hands on his hips, ominous gaze once more piercing into your being.
Clenching your fists, you cannot help but bark out your next words accusingly. "You expect us to believe you amicable, yet you consort with dark arts, hide knowledge and treat us ill when your way is not had? What reason have we to trust any word of yours?"
"Well, I was going to say something... but I figured it'd be more sophisticated of me t'let you find out on your own. I know how your kind likes to feel like you're in control. And as a bonus", he notes cheerily, "I got t'watch you numb nuts stumble around like idiots. So no worries, you didn't completely waste my time!
"Alas", he then sighs, "I must admit that all games must end. An' while this game was fun, I understand you failed to really understand me".
At this, you felt yourself physically collapse somewhat. Startled, your head jerks down at the ground to see your feet have sunk into the earth! When did that even occur? Even more distressingly, both Reynauld and Dismas have befallen identical fates, cursing and struggling vainly against the grasping earth below. You do not have long to panic, however, as distinctly alien movement enraptures your attention; before your widened eyes, you behold the stranger arise, lifting himself unassisted off the ground before once more lounging in mid-air! The air seems to thicken as this being, this demon once more addresses you, all previous affability absent in his next words.
"Now, I'll ask one more time", he declares, voice distorting and deepening ever further. "The knight, or the bandit. Which one do you like more?"
Well. This certainly took an unsettling turn. Your response must be carefully considered once again...
[ ] Well that tears it! You've had enough of this insolent game! (Enter Combat) Really? What are you gonna do, throw your butter-knives at me?
[ ] You have to get away somehow! Maybe you can distract him long enough to free yourself and your cohorts before escaping! Oh yeah, I'd love to see you do that with no legs.
[ ] ...Perhaps negotiation will best diffuse these unfortunate circumstances. Better have more to offer than pretty rocks, moneybags.
- [ ] What do you propose?
[ ] You suppose you don't have a choice in the matter. You have to answer him, whether you want to or not.
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Reynauld is your favored employee.
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Dismas is your favored employee.
- [ ] You insist to the stranger that neither man is your favored employee.
[ ] Lie to the stranger. The imp certainly deserves
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Reynauld is your favored employee.
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Dismas is your favored employee.
- [ ] You insist to the stranger that neither man is your favored employee.
AN: I forgot to record that you also collected more wealth in the earlier battle. The previous post should now be edited to reflect what you gained.
One one hand, you three could assault him, attempt to take him by surprise before he can enact his foul designs. You quickly right that option off, however; his bemusedly cheery confidence alone and in the presence of two battle-hardened mercenaries makes it clear he is more than prepared for violent confrontation. Since the duo are you only means of defense and law enforcement, you have no wish to risk losing them in an unnecessary struggle.
You could converse with him. Even if you deign to ignore his curious query, you could attempt to bargain or reason with him. But would that be playing to his expectations? Is he trying to manipulate or tick you into revealing something you shouldn't? The piercing, predatory stare of those yellow-orange eyes certainly makes this entire scenario seem somewhat Faustian in nature. So no, you would rather not play this demented game, however it works.
It would seem any attempt at interaction would most likely conclude in greater peril, you decide. This revelation brings an alternative to mind, though...
What if you simply... walked away?
You grimace at the thought; you'd prefer not to, as such a recourse is essentially an admittance of defeat. Not in a military sense, of course, but it would certainly humiliate you and your men to acknowledge that a mere pleb, criminal or otherwise, stole from from nobility and escaped justice. But there are simply too many uncertain factors at play: an unknown land, unknown peoples and dangers, and unknown means of returning home, reclaiming the birthright. Ultimately, what is one loss of a mere flintlock when the fate of you and your people might hang in the balance?
Huffing, you turn on your heel and wave to your cohorts to follow you onward, not deigning to dignify the stranger's words with a retort.
Neither of them seem to take the decision well. Dismas contents himself with growling in frustration, but Reyanuld sputters out a vocal protest. "Milord! You're simply allowing this filthy imp to go about his foul business?! This matter is more than just mere petty thievery..."
"Indeed it is", you stoically reply, looking over your shoulder at the knight. "I do not trust this man to act decent. He hides much and foul power lurks within that mask. We have too many important matters that must be addressed to risk our lives over a single weapon".
"I-I... Lord Darkest..."
Dismas chooses that instant to clap his comrade in arms across the back. "Jus' let it go, mate. He's right. Shames me t'admit it, but it's really not worth it". As he continues onward, he chooses to add one last comment to the stranger just as he passes you by. "Pray we ne'er meet 'gain, wanker".
At this, Reynauld reluctantly sighs in defeat and rejoins you. The stranger, oddly quiet up until this point, hollers an annoyed protest as you depart. "Oy, you seriouesly leavin' already? I asked you a question, moneybags!"
Again, you deny the cretin a response, continuing after the highwayman on the unpaved path ahead. The thief manages one more declaration just as you leave hearing range. "RUDE! Raised in a barn, ya'll are! Don't think this is over!"
A roll of your eyes is all you have in response to that. The man did nothing to stop you from leaving, so he must be more bark than bite. No doubt he'll stew for a moment before inevitably getting bored and taking his wearisome mischief elsewhere.
You breathe a sigh of relief as you finally lose sight of the masked cretin, turning to follow your comrades through the mountain pass and allowing thoughts on the settlement awaiting you to enter your mind. A glass of wine is sorely needed after all your perilous experiences.
What followed was the most miserable traveling experience you ever had the displeasure of embarking upon. The mountainside pathway grew incessantly more perilous to navigate, growing impossibly steep and requiring numerous detours frequently. Though little time was required to identify a way onward, the increasingly unbearable conditions of travel seriously dampened morale; already physically taxed from the previous events of that very same day, the uneven ground and ever frigid air killed extensive conversation and befouled everyone's moods. Reynauld perhaps suffered worst of all, having to additionally contend with the notable weight of his own iron armor as he navigated the mountainous passage, struggling at points to elevate himself past nature's earthen obstructions. You and Dismas fared little better, however, and were just as desperate for any relief from your plight.
"God damn", the aforementioned highwayman groaned in exasperation, "will this ever end!? Feels like we been here f'days"!
Far from amused, the knight gruffly admonished his cohort. "Hush, you. At least this be no battlefield. I'd take tall stone over raining arrows any day".
Dismas only grunted in response and continued onward, increasingly desperate to find some means of exit from our mountainous prison. Incidentally, he seemed to have discovered one shortly afterward; he gazed slightly downward to one side before excitedly calling you forward, pointing to his find. "There! I think we're finally low 'nough to get off this rock! Very least, it's a change a scenery!"
Bemused, but not protesting, you and Reynauld follow the man, grasping the cliff below and easing yourselves down. Anxious and hopeful, you descend quick as is humanly possible down to the point of interest. What you do see is certainly encouraging; in contrast to the dull grays and browns of the surrounding mountains, the vibrant green like that of the valley you witnessed earlier greats your tired eyes. Eventually, your footfalls finally make contact with the site to find...
The place you had just departed. Same shrubbery. Same waterfall. Same chest. Same distant settlement.
And most infuriatingly of all, the same wretched, hateful stranger awaits you, barely having moved from his lounging spot. Spying you all emerging, he waves in a manner that somehow seems both cheerful and mocking.
For their part, both your guards seem equal parts shocked and enraged. Reynauld sputters in indignation and begins grasping at the pommel of his longsword, torn between leaving it there and tearing the blade from its sheath. Dismas instead chooses to vocalize his displeasure. "... Wh- how in- FUCK me!" he exclaims in exasperation. "What Light-damned sense does that make!? This-"
However, the rant ends as abruptly as it began, the highwayman freezing in place once he turned around. Turning around yourself to follow his gaze, you suddenly empathize greatly with his distress.
The mountainous path you followed is gone. In it's place is nothing other than some shrubbery before the imposing, imperial stature of the mountain.
For what seems like the passage of eons, you three simply stand in slack-jawed bewilderment. You struggle to even process your terrible luck. How is this possible? Do you dare even consider if all of the previous journey was a mere hallucination? The former unspoken inquiry causes your attention to snap back in the direction of your mysterious tormentor. You had sensed eldritch tidings from the stranger before, and now your fears were beginning to crystallize...
Before you can even formulate a proper response, however, your Crusader unsheathes his sword and marches unhesitatingly towards the chest. Shaken from your daze, you and Dismas follow the grizzled veteren, though your tongue remain tied. Once you have all returned to your previous positions before the thief Reynauld all but roars at the relaxed figure standing before you all.
"You", he declares. "You will cease tormenting us or die, you wretched imp!"
For his part, the stranger merely tilts his head in faux curiosity. "Whaddaya mean? I was jus' hanging out here. You guys just up and decided to go on without knowing the path ahead".
You frown suspiciously at this claim, and at last find your own words. "Then you knew an impossible path lay in store?"
A scoff answers you. "Didn't mean a literal path, moneybags. See, I don't really like bein' ignored, so I thought I'd give you just a taste of what I'm capable of. The mask isn't for show, y'know. I told you not to think this was over. Now, you feel like playing nice yet?" He then places his hands on his hips, ominous gaze once more piercing into your being.
Clenching your fists, you cannot help but bark out your next words accusingly. "You expect us to believe you amicable, yet you consort with dark arts, hide knowledge and treat us ill when your way is not had? What reason have we to trust any word of yours?"
"Well, I was going to say something... but I figured it'd be more sophisticated of me t'let you find out on your own. I know how your kind likes to feel like you're in control. And as a bonus", he notes cheerily, "I got t'watch you numb nuts stumble around like idiots. So no worries, you didn't completely waste my time!
"Alas", he then sighs, "I must admit that all games must end. An' while this game was fun, I understand you failed to really understand me".
At this, you felt yourself physically collapse somewhat. Startled, your head jerks down at the ground to see your feet have sunk into the earth! When did that even occur? Even more distressingly, both Reynauld and Dismas have befallen identical fates, cursing and struggling vainly against the grasping earth below. You do not have long to panic, however, as distinctly alien movement enraptures your attention; before your widened eyes, you behold the stranger arise, lifting himself unassisted off the ground before once more lounging in mid-air! The air seems to thicken as this being, this demon once more addresses you, all previous affability absent in his next words.
"Now, I'll ask one more time", he declares, voice distorting and deepening ever further. "The knight, or the bandit. Which one do you like more?"
Well. This certainly took an unsettling turn. Your response must be carefully considered once again...
[ ] Well that tears it! You've had enough of this insolent game! (Enter Combat) Really? What are you gonna do, throw your butter-knives at me?
[ ] You have to get away somehow! Maybe you can distract him long enough to free yourself and your cohorts before escaping! Oh yeah, I'd love to see you do that with no legs.
[ ] ...Perhaps negotiation will best diffuse these unfortunate circumstances. Better have more to offer than pretty rocks, moneybags.
- [ ] What do you propose?
[ ] You suppose you don't have a choice in the matter. You have to answer him, whether you want to or not.
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Reynauld is your favored employee.
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Dismas is your favored employee.
- [ ] You insist to the stranger that neither man is your favored employee.
[ ] Lie to the stranger. The imp certainly deserves
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Reynauld is your favored employee.
- [ ] You tell the stranger that Dismas is your favored employee.
- [ ] You insist to the stranger that neither man is your favored employee.
AN: I forgot to record that you also collected more wealth in the earlier battle. The previous post should now be edited to reflect what you gained.
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- Location
- St. Petersburg
[x] ...Perhaps negotiation will best diffuse these unfortunate circumstances.
- [x] This is hardly a fair bargain he's driving. Offer him a contest of wits. If he wins, we will answer his question. If we win, he will answer ours and let us be on our way.
- [x] This is hardly a fair bargain he's driving. Offer him a contest of wits. If he wins, we will answer his question. If we win, he will answer ours and let us be on our way.
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- Location
- Rivendell
[X] You suppose you don't have a choice in the matter. You have to answer him, whether you want to or not.
- [X] You insist to the stranger that neither man is your favored employee.
- [X] You insist to the stranger that neither man is your favored employee.
- Location
- United States
[x] ...Perhaps negotiation will best diffuse these unfortunate circumstances.
- [x] This is hardly a fair bargain he's driving. Offer him a contest of wits. If he wins, we will answer his question. If we win, he will answer ours and let us be on our way.
- [x] This is hardly a fair bargain he's driving. Offer him a contest of wits. If he wins, we will answer his question. If we win, he will answer ours and let us be on our way.
PranksterOliwar
Pranks Not Included
- Location
- Houston
Just so I understand, what exactly do you mean by "a contest of wits"? Did you have something in particular in mind or are you letting the stranger decide?
- Location
- United States
Hmm, Chess perhaps? i would say riddles but i don't think we have enough people that are into this quest (yet) to have a decent chance of making good riddles and solving them.
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PranksterOliwar
Pranks Not Included
- Location
- Houston
Tell you what, in the event your vote wins, we'll hold a quick mini-vote tomorrow or the day after to decide what challenge you issue.
PranksterOliwar
Pranks Not Included
- Location
- Houston
Hmm, looks like another tie. Well, if it's not broken in a few hours, I'm flipping a coin.
Since we're still just starting out, I'll say this: none of your options here are good ones, considering who you're dealing with. So while I won't spell out what your votes will result in, I will say I'd recommend voting on whatever you believe has the least bad outcome.
Since we're still just starting out, I'll say this: none of your options here are good ones, considering who you're dealing with. So while I won't spell out what your votes will result in, I will say I'd recommend voting on whatever you believe has the least bad outcome.
[X] You suppose you don't have a choice in the matter. You have to answer him, whether you want to or not.
- [X] You insist to the stranger that neither man is your favored employee.
Curse you Majora.
- [X] You insist to the stranger that neither man is your favored employee.
Curse you Majora.
PranksterOliwar
Pranks Not Included
- Location
- Houston
And the vote is now closed. Ideally, the update will be up in the next few days.