Vengeance of the Fallen One

[The Mammoth]

In the aftermath of Ralf'url's defeat, the recovery of Mammoth had gone roughly. He remained seriously impaired for quite a while. It took nearly 4 months for him to be well enough to move out again. The others had healed much more quickly, their wounds not as grievous. Mammoth had told them not to wait, to go live in the world they had saved. He also told them where he'd be heading once he was good enough to move again. He didn't wish to remain in Korgasa, much like he never wished to stay in one place for very long. He took pride in his travel, and loved to see the vastness that was this planet. In the years since he traveled from his homeland, he always seemed to return back to the northern lands where he came from after he moved for a while. He had heard from many that the planet was so vast that if he went far enough, people might never have heard of Korgasa nor any other nation nearby. Even Mammoth's northern lands of Wymondis were rarely mentioned if known by the denizens of Korgasa.

Nonetheless, Mammoth finally rose from what became his home. The paladins and clerics knew him by name. The friendly nurses that had tended to him often had meals with him. He was always gracious for their assistance, and most were disappointed to see him go, even though it was inevitable. Such a long time he spent there, and they had seen him through his near death. Mammoth knew he would need to train himself back to full strength, as his repaired muscles would struggle, and his ability to move and fight would be impaired for a short while.

To his surprise, as he began to prepare for his departure, his armor had repaired itself. Apparently the enchantments of the Ancestors that had applied to his armor enabled it to heal much like flesh, and it had become whole again. Strapping it to himself he placed his claymore in his sling, and his helm on the hilt of his blade. Having said his goodbyes, Mammoth moved out, alone once again. He hoped he would see his friends again, but he knew that it would be likely some time before they met him far to the west.

His travel was as uneventful as usual, the occasional demon that the planet seemed to be finishing off was all that he seemed to run into. Bandits were not even an issue, it seemed that the struggle with the demons left everyone rather friendly to each other, at least for a short while. After days upon days of travel with the occasional stop to train his skills with his weapon, Mammoth arrived at a small outlying town of Gitrem. It was the furthest he had traveled in his life. So much empty land and wilderness was in between the nation of Korgasa and Rasti that few in Rasti even knew of the kingdom of Korgasa. Most civilians knew nothing of it, but the majority of the ruling parties had an idea. Mammoth enjoyed the change of scenery. So much damage had been done to Korgasa, it seemed the further away that he got, the more it seemed like the world would move on without issue.

Dirty and covered in grime, Mammoth entered the small town in the blistering heat. He entered the nearest tavern in an effort to gather some information.

"Scotch on the rocks." He said to the bartender.

He sipped his scotch at the bar, looking around for any of his friends. It seemed they were not here, at least not in the bar. He asked the bartender about the area, trying to get a feel of where he would head next. He figured he would clean up, get a few good nights sleep, and move out after a week or two if he never saw either of his friends. He would stay in the area for a while, he figured, but he knew that some may wish to forget the ordeal, and that his friends may not come. He was prepared to move on alone again. He drank his scotch quietly after that, ordering a few more before he finally got up to leave. He was surprised at the friendliness of the people there, as the two men at the bar around him were interested in the runes on his armor, but absolutely nonthreatening. It was unusual for a tavern. Mammoth left and wandered around the town. He found the public baths and showers, which surprisingly had a rather impressive irrigation system used to feed water to the individual stone stalls. He paid a few gold coins, and was impressed as cleaned off. Once clean, he washed his clothes, and dried them. Willing to walk around shirtless while his shirt dried, but having a spare pair of pants in his survival pack, Mammoth carried his armor under his arm. It fit very nicely together so he could do that, something he intended when he crafted it. Upon leaving, he walked through the impressively ornate town square. Cobbled roads, a fountain which supplied the town fresh water, and the buildings were treated wood. The town's prosperity was impressive.

The local children seemed scared by Mammoth scars. There were many signs that he had seen much battle. It was rather difficult to look at him, but he reassured the children with a smile, and watched as they returned to play. The women of the town didn't seem much more confident. They looked at him wish concern of why such a weathered man would be in their city. He didn't wish to cause trouble, and found a small shop where he bought a shirt with which to cover up his scars. There were many shops around, and plenty of signs that this town was a rather successful merchant stop. He didn't remember it being this well off the first time he was here, and he finally made his way to the place where he ate the last time he was here. A massive smokehouse, the place cooked the best beef he had ever had, and he learned how to make his jerky there.

He entered the small establishment and sat down. As he was being served, a few men, obviously guard, moved in to speak with him. After a short bit of speaking, they were satisfied he was not a threat, and apologized for the intrusion. Mammoth understood, and continued eating.

"Wonder where those two fools went off ta..."

[Da Pwny]

Rain... Jodice never did like rain much. But now that she had absolutely no cover from it, save for the occasional tree, it was even worse. The last four months had been spent much like today; sparse human contact, near-constant fighting against a fleeing demon hoard, and a persistent nag from the wench that claimed to be her mother. A downpour that'd started half a week ago continued unabided today, drenching her, the ground, and pretty much every dry area available. Worst of all, Jodice didn't have a clue in heaven or Hell where they were going. The only response she could ever get was something to the effect that it was “closer”.

Worse still, she’d forsworn the abilities discovered in the last battle she’d fought alongside the group she had been with, having found other ways to dispose of her opponents. As if to make matters more difficult, the spirit claiming to be her mother continued to nag her about it. That only made Jodice less willing to use them. Her sessions weren’t getting any better.
~If I knew before I was killed off that I’d be giving life to a coward that was scared of herself, maybe I wouldn’t have even bothered saving your half-bred soul.~
“Mother, shut up. I already told you I’m not using those… powers, or whatever they are. I don’t give a rat’s ass about your opinion, because that decision is final.”
~Well, we’re not critiquing the rodent, now are we?~

Even Enia’s sarcastic wit had gotten sharper. Jodice sometimes wished the witch was still alive, because she would have socked her right in the jaw for a comment like that. Instead, she just growled quietly. “Seriously, do you have to be such a b**** all the time? Most mothers I know of would be coddling their children, not pointless beating on them.”
~Most mothers don’t have demigods for children. And I am not beating on you – you wouldn’t be able to walk if I was.~
“Okay, you got me there. But still, where the hell are we going?! There’s nothing but the Wastes this way, and all the demons ran to the foothill swamps in the deeper South. Shouldn’t we be hunting them down?”
~Tsk… not the least bit of patience. I had more faith in you to not be so jumpy, but perhaps that was misplaced. Anyhow, there’s something you should see first that’s just as important. Of course, if I tell you that ruins most every bit of it, so just shut up and follow.~

Once again Jodice found being verbally spanked, and it was getting on her nerves. “Maybe I don’t feel like finding out another of your dirty little secrets. Maybe, just maybe, I don’t give a rip about any of this. Maybe I just want out of this mess, and quickly.”
~It’s too late for backing out. You accepted these responsibilities when you accepted that you can cheat Death. And now that I’m trying to give you something that could possibly make your life a little easier, you want to back down?
~You really don’t care about what’s happening, huh? Then why did you get involved, knowing that you could’ve died at any point? Why’d you save your ‘friends’ from the fires of Hell? You know what you’re doing? Attempting a pathetic try at dodge Fate’s hand. That’s all.
~There is no hero in your story, and there never will be. Do you know why? Because that’s your place, and no one else’s. You have no hero because you need none, because you are the ‘hero’, if that’s how you like to think on it. And don’t let it get to your head, or you might get a headache. My only place in all of this is to make sure you don’t screw it all up. If you fail, there’s only one person to blame for it, and I think you know her very well.~

Great, another lecture; just what the doctor ordered. Sitting beneath a tree, Jodice sighed, taking out a piece of jerky she’d been given before leaving the infirmary where her group had landed after defeating Ralf’url. Speaking of them, made her mind drift to Mammoth, which caused her to shake that thought immediately. It was a temporary infatuation, she reminded herself, but was that true?

That single thought alone was causing her grief enough; Jodice had left without any goodbyes to any of them, and even though he’d told them they could, it still felt wrong to leave without saying goodbye to Mammoth. The first thing she’d done was return to where the castle had stood and unburied Wolfie’s remains, giving him a proper burial, leaving only an unsigned marker to signify his final resting place. It was the least she could do, she figured, seeing as the mages refused to so much as even brush against his body, and not even Pinata had mentioned anything of him after his passing. Abomination against nature or not, he’d been a friend, if not the better kinds then at least an acquaintance that deserved recognition for giving the ultimate sacrifice.

Even now, one question nagged at her above all others; ‘why me’? Why did she come back almost as easily as waking up from a short nap, while everyone else was forced to rot forever? Couldn’t someone who’d deserved immortality have taken her place? Even now her crimes were still affixed; she had been a thief once. Dozens of people had been robbed by her hands, rich or poor, and there was no way around it. Was she not as bad as a murderer who took life, perhaps in some cases even worse than that? So why was she given a free ride, while so many others suffered…

So many questions, and so little time right now. Finally realizing that she still held the piece of dried-out meat in her hands, Jodice ignored these thoughts and ate in haste. There was going to be plenty of time for contemplation later, she told herself, so worrying now wouldn’t help. After a short rest, she was on her way once more, heading ever closer to the Eastern Badlands, a land simply named ‘The Wastes’ by those she’d grown up with...

[reaper]

Shylock didn't have a house here. He hadn't owned a piece of land ever in his live. He wasn't used to settling down anywhere for long enough to consider buying any property in the numerous towns he passed by. Besides, he wasn't really rich enough to afford one either, not unless he started charging for everyone he helped, for his assistance. He usually got enough 'tips' to get by on food and any provisions he required but it would have been a waste of time for a thief to try and rob him. And they all knew that.

He didn't usually fight unless he had a good reason to or could still avoid it. Fortunately he didn't get into too many situations where such a need would arise. He was glad to find out where he went, he was known more for his helpfulness than his other 'hidden talents'. He stopped walking and looked at the sign for a while. Gitrem, that's what it said. He had not been here before but as he started to walk down the main street of the rather prosperous looking town, he noticed a lot of people stopping and staring, as if trying to remember if they knew him or rather knew of him.

Sure enough, he was currently in his usual clothes, like he always was. But it was cloudy and he looked more brown from the dust of the road he had traveled on than his usual silver or grey. He wasn't really tired but he was thirsty. He spotted a smokehouse down the road and entered it. It was a larger than he had seen in other towns in his travels. He guessed it was right to assume this town had frequent travelers. That would also explain the number of merchant shops. Gitrem was a trade outpost.

It took him a few seconds to look around the large room, at each person, woman and man in the room. The service was surprisingly good. Within a few minutes of ordering he had the plate of food in front of him. Bread and a thick stew of vegetables and an assortment of meat. The bartender was grinning as he also filled out the odd request of his strange customer; a tall glass of milk. Shylock grinned right back and walked away with his glass of milk.

He headed straight for the table that seated a big man who was eating quietly. Most of the other tables were full and he seemed to be alone in this smokehouse. He walked close to the table and spoke to get the man's attention, "May I take this seat?" It didn't show on his face but Shylock was wondering at that moment if there this man was hurt. There was something about the way he was seated, resting his arms on the sides of the table. Of course, he had noticed the armor at his side too. If he had to make a guess, he would say it was the shoulder. He would find out soon enough.

[The Mammoth]

Mammoth glanced up, and looked around, seeing the place was rather full and Mammoth's spot was one of the few with an empty seat.

"Go ahead" Mammoth said, continuing to eat before he finally looked up at the smaller man that was now sitting across from him. He had the look of a man of the cloth, the way he carried himself, the way he spoke. He sounded well spoken, confident, and carried himself rather passively, something uncommon for a traveler, as his robes color suggested. Mammoth came to the assumption by the marks on the man's hands that he was a monk. There were scars on his knuckles, but nothing that told of a desire or eagerness to fight, no wounds on the insides of his hands, no scars on any spots but the knuckles, meaning that whatever strikes he chose were conservative or technique based.

Mammoth didn't want to trouble the man with conversation, so he continued to eat. He scratched his shoulder and leaned back as he finished his meal, ordering a house beer from the waitress...

[reaper]

Shylock didn't have to look up to the man's shoulder and therefore into his face to notice the signs of a relatively new injury. He could see the instability of the hand, the left hand. The movement was minute but the finger holding the fork gave away the twitch and the subtle shakes that came with persistent uneasiness. Either the man was drunk, which he doubted, the shoulder had been injured at some point recently. That's what he would have guessed. Otherwise there was no need for the that symptom when he could clearly handle a huge sword with the same hand.

Once he had made his deductions he looked down again and continued to eat quietly. He looked up at the man, into his face and eyes as he ordered beer and smiled. He was almost done and kept the spoon down next to the bowl and picked up his glass of milk. He spoke after a while, once the big man had looked at him, "I never understand the purpose of beer. Why do people prefer it over the other things you may drink. It's not really healthier than say water, or milk." He paused. Then nodded his head to a side, his right, towards the shoulder, "That looks like its been healed by professionals. Though I would have to guess you haven't had the chance to use it much. Still feels a bit cramped?"

[The Mammoth]

Mammoth laughed at the comment about beer.

"It's not so much about health as it is taste." He replied.

When the man asked about his shoulder, Mammoth's demeanor was no longer as light-hearted. The man was trained, and obviously knew to look for the small things. His open mentioning to a warrior about any type of weakness set off red flags everywhere. Mammoth's eyes narrowed as he looked up at the man, now interested in sizing him up, just in case there was a fight ahead. He reminded himself that perhaps his breakdown of the man's personality simply from his knuckles could have been wrong.

"Yeah..." Mammoth replied slowly, his tone hard and deep, implying his distrust at the man's interest in his arm. If the man truly meant no harm, he would explain himself...

[reaper]

Shylock smiled at the man as he got the same reply he had got before on quite a few occasions. He replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders, "I like my water more." He could see that the man became a bit more alert as he mentioned the injury. He should have expected that seeing as he seemed like a seasoned warrior and they usually didn't appreciate someone pointing out their weaknesses, and in public.

Though he ignored the change he saw in the armored man and spoke again, "You should remember to exercise it before you go to sleep and after you get up, or its going to take longer than it should to become as flexible as before."

[The Mammoth]

"Preachin' to the choir, my friend." Mammoth said, his defenses still up. He was preparing for a fight. He watched the man closely, before he finally set down his fork and looked at the man plainly.

"Alright... What is goin' on here, bud? Ya gettin' a bit too interested in my arm..."

[piñata]

Pinata returned to the site of Wolfe's death so soon after Jodice had that their paths nearly crossed. He waved his hand over the gravesite, muttered a few words, and watched as flowers sprouted profusely from the ground. Wolfe probably wouldn't have cared for it much, but Pinata's magical gifts being so strongly geared toward nature it was the best tribute he could manage. He also took out a dagger and inscribed a name and epitaph on the unsigned marker. Now everyone would know whose final resting place this was, and would hopefully believe the epitaph rather than the rumors that had followed Wolfe in life and regard him as the hero the marker proclaimed him to be.

With that done, Pinata wandered the forest for a time, communing with nature. He learned many things about the plane he was on from his conversations with the native animals and plants, and reemerged from the woods with a much greater understanding of the geographic, political and religious makeup of the world. Gitrem was the place where things would happen next, is what they all said. So he went there.

[Da Pwny]

(might as well get part of all this out of the way x-x Gray, feel free to jump in if you wish)

The days seemed to draw out into weeks, which threatened to stretch even longer, and still there was no end in sight. As if the landscape was much better; all around, barren wasteland laid for as far as the eye could see. What few animals large enough to be edible Jodice killed, but even they were not enough to make her forget the nagging feeling of hunger that continuously burned within her. Worse still was her parched throat, which seemed to dry up any droplet of spittle she had left in her, leaving her gasping with each step. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Enia finally did something worth noting; she forced her daughter to stop and rest at midday.

Barely noticing that the spirit of her mother had disappeared, Jodice slept for the first time in what had to be almost three weeks, not wondering nor caring if anything came across her. Even with this new body, she was exhausted, dehydrated, and starving, but unwilling to weather another lecture by her mother about how she should be getting used to this. How she ever could was beyond the mind of the young Valices, and all she wanted right now was a warm bed, a boiling-hot bath, and enough food to feed a nation. Strangely, though, up until now her stomach had been complaining much less than before, and she'd been forgetting what sleep felt like. Now, if only for a moment, the comfort of normality blanketed her like-

Well, it was only for a moment; no sooner had she begun to get comfortable than she felt a rather harsh slap across her face. Swearing in protest, Jodice turned her vengeful, bloodshot eyes towards the visage of the one who claimed maternity over her, which disappeared a moment later. "You know, a whisper or a gentle shake would be nice. Just... once..." Even though she knew better than to not stand up almost immediately, Jodice still didn't get off without complaining. ~Warriors don't snore when they sleep; it attracts too much attention to themselves, as well as the party they are with. Follow. ~

Unable to retort, or even form another coherent sentence, Jodice obeyed...


Entering the cavern, the first thing that struck her was the sheer size of the cavity. It wasn't just a larger section of the cave; what appeared to be stone seats sat in a semi-circle around the center, branching up and out as the number of them grew. ~ This was once an amphitheater, where both sorrow and joy were created, often on the same day. My... judgment was passed here, but many plays were also shown in its time of use. This entire cave was built using magics long forgotten, even by those in the time that I lived in; hence, why it still stands, and has not fallen into disuse. However, this is just the entrance to a world beyond. ~

Chanting a few barely-audible words, Enia summoned a glowing sphere into existence at the room's center. At first, the object did nothing, but as words continued to warp and change it, the air grew strangely warm, and suddenly the sphere expanded wide, covering the entire back section of the amphitheater as what could best be described as a portal. However, little could be seen through it, as the images that were summoned continued shifting too fast for her eyes to focus upon.

~Beyond this lies what is left of your ancestral home, Jodice. What you make of it and do beyond here is up to you, but I must forewarn you: if you continue to forsake your birthright, you may not survive long, nor find anything of value. Time has no meaning in this place, but for your sake, I hope you do not diddle-dally long. For reasons that will soon become painfully obvious, I cannot follow, and instead will await your return. Best of luck to you, child. ~

Staring at the portal before her, Jodice turned back to her mother only to find the wench nowhere in sight. Sighing, she pressed a lump back down her throat, and stepped through...

The first thing to hit her was the pain: a stabbing something that was almost as bad as what she'd endured no more than five months ago. The second: a feeling of being yanked through to a space far longer than her comprehension could handle in the matter of a second, though for all she knew it could have just been a few miles. Combined together, when she emerged, the experience left her gasping for air, clawing at the ground until she righted herself and finally caught sight of the view before her.


It was evident that, at one time, this place had been a paradise: a calm river ran through the center of everything, beginning at the top of what at first glance seemed to be a mountain, but upon second inspection turned out to be a glimmering palace of some sort, majestically standing tall over the landscape. Tudor cottages, each large enough to hold a decent-sized family and servants, dotted the landscape, which had to have been lush with grass and trees once, ending at rough edges on one side where the land simply fell away, the distance obscured by cloud cover below; on the other side, it cascaded over hills into a distance unforeseeable by her eyes.

However, it was now a marred beauty: the grass was black and shriveled, crunching underfoot, and the trees were bare of leaves and, for those that could bear them, fruits; the houses were burnt, broken down, though it all seemed to have been done just yesterday; the majestic stone-and-crystal palace at the top of the mountain was broken asunder, obviously in a desperate state by now; and the river now flowed black as twilight. The worst, though, was the bodies; there was no smell, an unnatural state indeed, but they were everywhere, littered about like ghoulish confetti, some hung from the buildings that surely had once been their homes or businesses - others were nailed to them. It was almost more than her eyes could bear as she walked through the silent streets, not even the wind daring to howl through. It was the aftermath of a battle, one that had cost an entire race its population...


As Jodice continued on, she also noted the absence of ambient life anywhere; no birds, small mammals, deer, reptiles, or even insects. Everywhere she went, this world was silent, as well as vacant - the latter being confirmed via her secondary vision, which she'd dubbed "mana-sight" - and it was starting to drive her crazy. It was that fact that she dwelt upon when a shadow played upon a wall just out of the corner of her line of sight; before she could consciously react, someone – or something – descended upon her. Instinct took over, and she narrowly dodged a swipe aimed at her throat by bending back, but that didn’t account for having the ground swept out from under her feet. Rolling quickly away, Jodice heard the unseen opponent’s weapon eat dirt, and she quickly found solid footing as her body righted itself; Natulesa formed in her free hand as its sword form, and swung blindly out and upwards.

An unearthly scream signaled that she’d somehow made contact, and for the first time Jodice set eyes upon the being that had attacked her; although it looked human as it laid there bleeding to death, there were distinct differences that made it out plainly to be of demonic origin. It carried a definite feminine form, but black cracks dotted exposed skin, along with vacant eyes and the scream it made before it died chilled Jodice to the bone; at one time, this might have been a human, or even a lesser god of some sort. With it, the demon-being carried a knife carved from bone, with a distinctly human-ish shape... Her mother’s words echoed in her head as she observed quickly and moved onwards, though far more cautiously now than before…

(6,108 characters, not including spaces, and three days to write after maybe a month of brain gas x-x)

[piñata]

By the time Pinata arrived in Gitrem he was starving... he had learned to make his own jerky from Mammoth, but had finished his entire supply on the way here. Therefore, his first stop was a rather large smokehouse in the main area of the city.

Upon entering, it was impossible not to notice Mammoth. Certainly there were other big men in there, but none as impressive as Pinata's friend. He sat down at the table behind Mammoth, the larger man's back to him, and ordered some food and rum... something told him the conversation Mammoth was currently engaged in might be important.

(OOC: Gives Reaper one last opportunity to post before we advance without him... Mammoth, you can post and notice Pinata sitting behind you once you're sick of waiting for him.)

[The Mammoth]

((Well... considering I decided I am bored enough to stop giving up on this place, here's a post!))

Mammoth ignored the stranger in front of him, finally standing up and aiming to leave, picking up his armor. As he stood, he turned around and noticed Pinata sitting behind him. He stopped in his tracks, a bit shocked.

"Well... If it isn't the womanizer himself..." Mammoth laughed, slapping pinata on the shoulder with his free hand. He sat down across from his friend, a smile on his face.

"How are things, brudda?"