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Post by Duma on Feb 18, 2018 20:38:30 GMT -6
Duma took the torch and gave it a quick examination. It looked sturdy enough. The green-clad swordsman would need to light it once he was ready to run. He then glanced back at Vincent for some reassurance.
"That sounds ideal. But we won't know if that will be possible until we engage it. Let's see what damage we can do first. If any." He then had a very somber expression on his face.
"If things go south, If I get torn apart by that creature... Vincent you need to run away. No sense in both of us dying here tonight." It feels weird having to say that. He stared at the ground for a bit. Parts of his life flashed before his eyes. How many times did he repeat that line to Mila. It was rare for him to develop bonds with people. He shook his head again. Focus.
Duma braced himself as Vincent went running the opposite way. Good. Don't die. The swordsman made his way out of his hiding spot. He turned on the torch with a spark caused by some flint. The sudden noise of the rocks hitting each other drew the monster's attention. The flame fed upon the torch material and lit up. Duma took a moment to enjoy the small bit of warmth and light the torch brought. He saw that he had the Entombed was rushing towards him. Four long arms propelled the mass of a monster forward. Duma broke out into a run. He made is way back towards the crypts. The swordsman dropped the torch on the stone floor and took a stance.
It's now or never.
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Post by Vincent on Apr 6, 2018 9:54:59 GMT -6
“Aye, no sense in us both dying, but no real sense about either of us dying regardless, so let’s just focus on living. I’m not going to bank lives on a plan if I think it’s going to fail,” even if many of his plans were less than half baked spur of the moment debatably gratuitously overheroic gambles. Vincent was off in the opposite direction of Duma so he could get into place; he needed to make it all count. One to two good hits was all they needed, and likely all the pair could get against this monstrosity.
Vincent’s breaths shallowed as he focused. Phoenix Heart would not be able to assist him here thanks to that blade in it’s chest, but now, what was he without his blade’s power? Was he even much of a swordsman? He was inefficient and outdone by every other swordsman he met, even Mila could probably beat him he wagered, and she spent most of her time playing support to everyone else’s schemes. It’d be terrifying to see her use that in a fight instead of exhausting herself altering terrain.
There was little time for more wandering thoughts as the beast charged Duma, mouth unhinged and gaping. It was fast, and Vincent would need to be faster, it was now or never. He’d felt the power in his arms once before as he made two blades into four, he’d seen Duma make one into three, he’d felt true power from magic cycling through him from Elias and Phoenix Heart alike, he just had to recall it, feel it and make it his own again. Like lightning surging through his legs he felt it. He was coming Duma. (Celerity) With a burst of speed Vincent bolted forward to intercept the creature before it could reach Duma. He was fast, too fast!
There was little time to react or change plans but he couldn’t possibly strike the creature when moving like this, so he came up with a snap alteration. From the side he barreled into the creature, the impact winding himself and taking the monster sideways. It’s claws dug into the ground to steady itself once more, but Vincent had his grip on the blade in its chest! “Duma! Take the shot!!!” With the last of the energy his speed offered him Vincent followed through wrenching the blade from the Entombed’s body while simultaneously throwing both it an Phoenix Heart to Duma.
Black blood spilled from the reopened wound and the beast shrieked as Vincent’s body tumbled. It was enraged and slashed an arm down into Vincent’s left leg. Vincent’s cry of pain from the feted claw was only drowned out by the monster’s own shrieks. It’s pinned Vincent down and had three more arms for Duma.
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Post by Duma on Apr 9, 2018 19:04:34 GMT -6
Control. Breathing. Focus. He repeated this mantra in his mind as he braced himself for what was to come. A mantra that was taught to him by both of his parents. Steady your self. He could hear his mother's voice in his head. But, for all the breathing he did he still couldn't shake the lingering fear in the back of his mind. His heart was still beating far too hard for his liking. So much so that he could feel the life-giving pulses in his own temple. He swore the beating lined up with the footfall of the mighty monster that was coming for it. The swordsman swallowed the lump in his throat. Do not hesitate. Hesitation leads to death. Breathe. Breathe.
The swordsman altered his stance slightly. A more defensive one that was reserved for fighting large charging ax men. He only had one shot at this. Focus. Ever so slowly the thumping of his temples slowed down. Silence. As the beast took its form in front of the swordsman, he braced himself for the worst. But, something took him off guard. He saw Vincent, crash into the entombed. Not the sort of distraction I was expecting. But.. it's.. fitting.
TAKE THE SHOT!
Duma waited for a split second. He wasn't about to take the shot while his companion was lodged onto the beast. He wanted to avoid as much injury as possible. But, the hero pulled through. The silver-haired man managed to pull the blade from the monster's chest and throw it at his feet. Duma quickly glanced at the two blades on the floor. One was a blade meant to null magic, the other one meant to cast it. The swordsman quickly swiped Vincent's personal dagger from the floor and moved.
He wasn't sure what it was. Adrenaline. Fear. Focus. Or a combination of all three. But, his body moved without his thought. As the creature anchored itself to the ground and took a swipe at his buddy. The swordsman was determination was honed by instinct. His brave sword danced in the darkness as he slashed at the arm closest to him. An X shaped pattern appeared on monster's flesh. The wounds seeped a vile black blood. He moved again. This time behind the monster. He jumped and used the monster's back as a lift. Duma quickly spun Pheonix Heart in his hand and thrust the holy relic into the back of the beast. Do your worst. Do your worst to save him! He mentally told the blade. He was unsure of how magic weapons worked, but he knew how friendships worked. Friends, partners, do the impossible for each other. He hoped Pheonix Heart would do what it could to save them. At the very least to save Vincent.
The mighty beast let out a roar of pain as it arched backward. Away from Vincent. Two of its fettered claws reached back, towards Duma's clinging body. The swordsman let go of the holy blade and tried to jump away. He raised his brave sword up in front of it and deflected the sharp parts of the monster's claw. But, the force of the impact launched him back first into the cold unforgiving ground. He let out a pain ful groan. The impact was enough to break some of his bones for sure.
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Post by Vincent on Apr 10, 2018 10:21:13 GMT -6
It was as though time froze for Duma when he hoped to make use of the power within the sword Phoenix Heart. As he hit the ground with his body breaking it all went still. The blade, now lodged into the torso of the entombed, trading places with the regal blade had pulled Duma into its mindscape. In this place he felt no pain and could even go wherever he pleased, but while he moved his body would not follow.
An illusory figure stood just beneath where the blade had made impact. "Duma, the wandering vagabond hiding from his own failings." The voice was cutting and crisp. "My partner has such faith in you as to cast me into your hands? It is a most curious decision to me, but that boy is nothing if not curious." The figure walked toward's Duma, or maybe glided? The figure was like a shimmer of light whos form was nondescript, perhaps it was a man or woman? Both? Neither? Not even Vincent knew.
"I understand Vincent's desperation in his decision but he may have burdened you with something terrible unwittingly, and you, just as unwitting chose me over that anathema blade. Tell me why, and tell me of your worth. What is it you desire? Why did you seek my power over another?" The voice was calm and even as it spoke. The figure circled around Duma, reading his movements and judging every action he would make. "If you want my power, then I have but one requirement vagabond: STAND!" No matter his answers to the spirit's questions once the command was set forth he was returned to reality.
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Post by Duma on Apr 14, 2018 22:14:11 GMT -6
Well. This is it. I'm seeing that white light that leads out into the afterlife.. Duma thought to himself as the hazy figure of white light moved within the realm of his mind. He couldn't feel anything coming off of his body either. There was no pain. No tiredness. No sound. Well.. almost no sound. There was a voice in his ear. A voice that spoke of cowardice, worth, and desire. Vagabond?
"Even if this is my death, I'll not spend it being insulted, by a two-bit twinkle of light." He grumbled to the person shaped of light.
"Were you not... paying attention.. blade.. That boy, your partner, spent his energy getting that magic nullifying blade out of the monster. Why in the hell would I grab that to shove it back into the foul beast!" If he could shake his head he would.
"My wants are many. But, they aren't what I need. What I NEED is for us to make it out alive. Hell, maybe just Vincent to get out alive." Duma made a motion to try and move his hand but felt nothing.
"That boy.. no.. that young man.. has so much trust in you.. you fickle blade." The swordsman made another attempt to move his body. There was a tiny bit of sensation in that movement.
"It is because of the faith he puts in you.. that I grabbed you. And I have no choice but to trust in your power too." A movement in his legs this time Ah. There it is.. Pain. Well.. guess I know I'm still alive.
"And if that something involves using my body.. then do so." He spoke that last bit out loud, in a hoarse voice. The world was starting to come back to him. The image of the light figure faded. Trust me twinkles I'm trying really hard to f*cking stand. His vision returned and he could see the blurry sky above him. A mix mash of pitch blackness and tiny specks of starlight. His hearing returned too, and the sound that graced him was the cries and screeches of the monster. When the scent returned he distinctly smelled his own blood and a foul misty stench in the air. His sense of taste returned and reminded him of what blood tasted like. Like rusty ash in his mouth, he turned his head to try and spit the excess of blood from his pallet but was greeted by an intense pain instead. The impact had hurt his back, neck, shoulders, every part of him that he needed to actually move and do something.
Grit your teeth and bear it. He did just that. Push.. with that regret. He moved his legs this time. More pain graced his senses. But he kept moving. He kept moving until he was sitting upright. His right arm pulsated in pain with each movement and found it hard to move. He suspected that something along its structure had broken and rendered useless for the time being. A sharp pain in his chest told him something inside there was damaged. Maybe a bruised organ. Or perhaps a broken rib? He couldn't tell in this state. He used his left hand to hold his weight and pried himself off the ground. He wobbled as he stood. He gripped the hilt of his second blade, his steel sword. His brave sword lay on the ground somewhere near him but he dared not reach for it. The pain in his body might not give him the opportunity to stand up again if he did. Alright you bratty blade. I'm up.
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Post by Vincent on Apr 16, 2018 11:28:22 GMT -6
There was a sound in Duma’s head that was distinctly that of a giggle from the spirit. “Oh, no, no, no. You will not do at all, so demanding.” A sigh. Oh well, Phoenix Heart was not looking for a new partner anyway, but it had a feeling Duma will was strong of will and so they ordered him to stand. Show them his will to resist the backlash of power! Through his pain and everything else Duma endured just to stand he would also experience an intense heat running through his very core. It was not like fire or even the sun, it was something more primal within his soul.
But as he rose the power of Phoenix Heart flared searing the impaled entombed. It staggered the fiend giving Duma all the time he needed to rise. The rotted and darkened flesh around the wound burned and glowed brightly beneath the skin with more and more intensity. The pain caused the beast to thrash about, and unfortunately for Vincent that meant getting yanked by the claw. His leg split painfully down the center as he was dragged several yards before it ripped free. Vincent cried in pain, biting his lip to bleeding and blood pooled from his leg. He needed to stop the bleeding, or slow it enough to get to a healer! Oh blast it hurt!
When Duma was on his feet the first two seals on the blade broke open and magic poured forth ripping open the gut and chest of the beast so widely the blade fell right from its body. The entombed fell to the earth thrashing and spasming. The black blood spilled as charred innards followed. The beast started to rise and slipped upon it own gore falling again and then it fell still. It shrieked in a low guttural and barely audible manner.
Then, it rose one more time, it staggered and used its claws to keep itself grounded, turning on Duma. It pulled closer to the sword master dragging its body and stopping at the base of his feet. It looked up at him and in its eyes was an almost human pleading, even still it lived but so weakened as to fall still.
Vincent took note of his dropped cloak and pulled himself to it. The blood from his leg left a trail easily followed. A sense of fear took him, what if more of its kind ventured above? They would never get away. With his dagger he tore his cloak to wrap tightly around his leg, tight enough to begin numbing it. A claw like that, what if it became infected? Could a healer really take care of it all? Should he head for a capital?
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Post by Duma on Apr 28, 2018 19:52:54 GMT -6
Keep awake. The swordsman muttered to himself. The pain and sudden exhaustion put upon his body nearly knocked him out. It almost caused him to miss the stunning light display the holy dagger had made for itself. But, as the light show went on, Duma felt some sort wrong. Like his body was suffering from an intense heat, heaviness, and anxiety. As if some divine force was peering through his soul and judging him for all his past transgressions. Yeah. Look all you want. I don't care.
"I.. wouldn't be here today without my actions.." He muttered to no one in particular. As the monster flared about like an angry bull with a rider upon it's back, Duma did not move. He found it incredibly difficult to perform any sort of action at the moment. The stress of it all must be taking a toll on him or perhaps the adrenaline was finally wearing off. Whatever it was he didn't like it. He knew he needed to move. He knew he'd be a dead man if he didn't. And yet he found the action of lifting his feet incredibly taxing. As the monster slithered its broken corpse over towards his feet, the swordsman simply stared at it with no emotion. He forced his arm to move and sliced the monster's forehead in two. The beast fell still and silent forever.
The swordsman let out a hard breath. And suddenly felt very cold. The weird heat of the previous moment had passed and now he realized he was drenched in a cold sweat. Stay. Awake.
"Vincent!" He called out. In all of the hubbub, he had forgotten about the young hero. He recalled a shriek, but he didn't know it was Vincent's or the Monsters. He took a step forward. Numbness now. Not.. that's.. not a good sign.
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Post by Vincent on Apr 30, 2018 11:55:47 GMT -6
“Vincent!” Duma called his name prompting a weak smile from the mercenary. They did it, they survived and won. They took a big toll... a really big toll but they did it... he found himself laughing weakly to himself before seeing the flow of blood begin to slow. He wasn’t out of the woods yet but he should have bought himself enough time, the city was not so far removed from the crypts after all.
“Duma!” He called to him as he forced his body to shakily rise from the tainted earth. His leg burned and his balance faltered but he managed to hobble his way to his better half. Well, he looked better off anyway if an exhausted and disheveled mess. They needed proof of the monster’s death and he needed a walking stick to support himself with. Retrieving Phoenix Heart Vincent proceeded to cut an arm off of the entombed so he could use its exaggerated length to support himself. “Feel free to lean on me if you must.” He spoke to Duma. A quick snack of the area and he found the regal blade that he’d ripped out. He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t want it, in fact he possessed just enough raw ore to forge a blade of his own should he find the smith for it. No, he retrieved it for its value in battling monsters. Duma could have it if he liked, or he’d pass it off to someone else in Lycia.
Entombed arm-staff in one hand and regal blade in the other he slowly moved to Duma’s side. “We need a healer.” He winced with each step and sucked his teeth each time he jarred himself. “Once were better, could I trouble you to report with me? Lord Aster would probably appreciate your side of things, and he needs to know just how infested those crypts are.”
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Post by Duma on May 3, 2018 20:20:36 GMT -6
Duma just stood there for a moment. He heard the sounds of Vincent's movements and he wanted to move towards him. But, as he forced himself to take another step, a horrible feeling of pins and needles ate at his legs and lower torso. His chest felt like it was under intense pressure. It made each breath incredibly painful and very difficult. He came to the conclusion that not only did he have a few broken ribs, which were hard enough, but one of his lungs must be punctured as well. That slam to the floor did more damage to him then he'd like.
But, Vincent was worse. At least he looked a lot worse. While Duma himself probably looked like he had the worst flu of his life and hobbled like a stiff old man. He didn't have a drop of blood on him to show for it. No, most of his trauma was internal. Vincent's trauma's were seen all over his body. A nasty cut on the leg and signs of severe exhaustion.
"I.. think.. we may.. need.. several.. healers.." He struggled to speak his own words. They came out of him on the tail end of each painful breath. The lord who posted the job wanted proof of their victory. Vincent did well in taking it's arm, but the monster had four of them. A monster with three extra arms could still survive out here. Especially, when it had friends in the crypts below ground. No, the swordsman determined that they would need to bring their lord something else. Duma pulled off his cloak and crouched down. Slowly. Painfully. He cut off the broken head of the monster and scooped up its remains into his cloak. He then tied the cloak off as a loose bag then tied that to his own sash. That was all really hard to do considering he was certainly one of his shoulders were either broken or popped out of place. He picked up the torch they used as bait. Miraculously, it was still lit.
"Took.. it's.. head." Duma then hobbled over toward's Vincent's side.
"No... Lean.. On.. me." He offered his good arm.
"Give.... sword.. please.." The green-clad swordsman pointed to the anti-magic blade in Vincent's hand. Once, obtained the swordsman quietly found a place for it in his holster. This freed up Vincent's arm, which helped Duma to hold him.
"Are.. you.. familar.. with.. three legged.. races?" He asked. The two of them were going to have to pull off something similar if they were going to walk all the way back to town.
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Post by Vincent on May 3, 2018 20:53:38 GMT -6
Vincent was worried he might topple Duma in an effort to support each other but they managed to stand firm. He gave over the regal blade without a second thought, but Phoenix Heart seemed to breath a sigh of relief, well metaphorically anyway. "Yeah. I've done three legged races before, mostly as a kid for fun." And now for survival, how the twist of irony turned in life.
Looking at the makeshift bag carrying the head Vincent looked at it in disgust as its nether blood dripped through. He suddenly chuckled until he worked up a weak laugh. "This is just wrong! Its so disgusting!" Then as though realizing the irony of him saying that he added, "Then again, I am the one using an arm for a staff! Speaking of, sure you don't need a HAND with that!?" Was he delirious or just really tired and in need of a good laugh? Maybe both would be good... yeah, both was good with him.
"Well, we don't exactly have a mile to go, but it will probably feel like it." Looking at his bleeding left leg and then at Duma he tried to figure out what would be most efficient for traveling like this... "Okay. I'll step first, so you lean into me, then you can step with your right leg and I lean into you, you step with your left and rinse and repeat." Wait, would that work? He paused for a moment as he tried to make a mental image of it and exhaustedly brushed it off to take his first step back to civilization.
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Post by Duma on May 5, 2018 15:47:39 GMT -6
As Vincent remarked on how disgusting it all was, Duma was inclined to agree. He could feel some sort of sludge leaking from the bag and oozing out onto his leg but he tried hard to ignore it. He tried hard to ignore it all. He.. no They.. couldn't afford to be distracted now. They needed to make their way towards the village before it was too late. Before those things in the crypts come up to investigate why their companion had not yet returned. But, he couldn't hold back the urge to crack something of a joke especially, after Vincent's terrible but highly appropriate pun.
"You. should.. have.. cut.. a leg."
Great, now he was stuck imagining how the other monsters in the crypts would react upon the discovery of the Entombed's body. He wondered what they would say? Like "What the hell happened to Bill?" Or Frank.. or whatever name the other monsters gave their four-armed beast. Did he give them all four armed high fives? Why was he even thinking this? Ah yes, clearly, the mental shock was wearing in. Or perhaps he'd finally gone insane. Or maybe he was perfectly rational in his thinking and this whole situation was just too crazy to be believed.
"Don't... let... it.. grab... you.. now." He spoke again then listened to Vincent's comment about how to three leg walk. Sure, that sounded reasonable. It was all that they had at the moment. And Duma had to hope that it had to work because his body couldn't handle too much more. Hell, he wasn't even sure how he was still standing.
"Pray.. we.. flag.. down.. a wagon.." He spoke and the duo made their way out of graveyard.
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Post by Vincent on May 5, 2018 16:38:58 GMT -6
The trip felt far longer than it really took but that was little consolation with the two in the state that they were in. While no wagons ever came into view they were fortunate enough to be spotted by a pair of hunters on their way back for the night with their catch. The brothers each took one of the swordsmen under their arms to help them back to the village and to the local healers'.
As they were escorted through the gates the guards were shocked to see the two men. One of them remembering them from when they had first left had outright gasped. There was no time to explain and so Vincent opted for the simple choice of "We fought a monster." Aside from the reactions of fear that elicited it was far too recognizable these days for more than that.
As the brothers got the two to a healers they were traded over to the clerics. "Oh dear, get them to the seats over there." Looking them over briefly she added and start prepping some hot water and be careful with them!" Her voice was urgent and stern. "Goodness."
The brothers seemed reluctant to help but followed the instructions they were given. When the men were set down the cleric snatched the arm from Vincent's hand to check on the claws of the beast before telling the brothers of various medicinal herbs to mix into the water.
Vincent forced a weak chuckle. "I think I'm in trouble Duma. I think it's going to hurt." Before the wound could be mended it was going to need to be cleaned as well. In Duma's case the cleric's understudy looked him over, his wounds were far less obvious but seemed no less dangerous. The punctured lung especially.
The apprentice came to him with a rag. "We can fix you, but it is going to hurt, so I want you to bite this and get ready to cough. Once its done the blood should come out."
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Post by Duma on May 6, 2018 19:24:00 GMT -6
The swordsman thanked the gods that their "walking" was actually working. He also thanked the gods again when those hunters showed up and helped them get into town. The green-clad swordsman didn't even get their names. His body was so tired, beaten, and in so much pain that it put his mind in another place. All he could focus on was on his footfall and trying really hard not to pass out in the middle of the walk. He tilted his head up for a bit once they went past the city gates. He caught the sight of the people, mouth agape, and some in shocked silence. Then his focus shifted right back down onto the floor, now that his mind knew they were in the presence of people, back in civilization, his body was starting to give out. No. Just. A bit more.. step. Step. Each step felt like he had legs made of stone. Sooner or later those two hunters were practically dragging him through the streets.
The mud laden roads turned into floorboards. The two hunters carefully seated him on a chair somewhere. And Duma couldn't keep himself awake anymore. He felt his mind slipping into darkness. There were new voices around him now, a woman, and another man. The man was asking him questions, trying to find out what was broken.
"Sh..Sha..shoulder.. c..chest.. r-ribs..blo...blood..inside..inside.." And that was the last thing he remembered saying. Vincent's concerns over pain fell on deaf ears. Duma was unconscious on the chair. His body went limp and the understudy had to catch him before he slipped onto the floor.
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Post by Vincent on May 6, 2018 22:01:14 GMT -6
"Hey, hey now, don't go dark on me!" The understudy cradled Duma's face before giving his cheeks a light slap. "Damn it!" he called over the cleric in order to let her tend to Duma.
"What's the matter?" Aside from everything obvious.
"He said something about his chest and blood. I think he has a punctured lung," the understudy clarified for the cleric who took a deep breath and wordlessly nodded before getting to work on him. "Get him on his side. We're going to get the blood to come up and out."
Meanwhile for Vincent he got to experience every agonizing moment of his wound being scrubbed clean along with the stitching afterwards. The poppy juice drink they gave him only went so far to ease that agony and his cries of pain carried until he was given the rag originally intended for Duma. --
Some Hours Later --
"Well, we're alive, so that's something to be happy about." Vincent looked at his wrapped leg and then to Duma in the seat next to him. "I might get gangrene but it could have been worse. I reckon I very well could have lost it."
He then smiled, "You know, this will probably sound ridiculous but I'm glad that if I had to get this beaten down with someone that it was you. I'd hate to look this weak in front of my other rivals." He gave a cheeky grin towards Duma then. They almost died... and Duma still doesn't know about Mila... "Hey... if I can convince them to see you, I have a friend you might want to meet. She's pretty cool and has helped me out of a lot of binds."
Before more could be said or Duma could reply the door to the medical ward opened and sauntering in was a man in regal clothing and short black hair. He looked tired and generally unwell with dark circles under his eyes. Notably in his garb he wore a half cape that covered his left side from front to back.
"Lord Aster!?" Vincent tried to stand but was met with intense pain.
"At ease Heelcutter." Aster glanced to Duma briefly. "I came to check on your conditions. I heard you were successful but at a terrible cost and so it would seem."
"Yeah." Vincent gritted his teeth waiting for the pain to subside again. "About that. You said no one had fought the thing before. But we found it littered by weapons."
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Post by Duma on May 7, 2018 15:13:04 GMT -6
Duma was completely out of if for the rest of the night. When he woke he found himself in the chair next to Vincent. Shirtless. His arm wrapped up in a sling and his torso wrapped up in bandages. They were splints within the bandages, probably meant to keep the bones, in one place so that they grew in properly. The rancid taste of old blood mixed with morning breath was stuck in his mouth. He was given a concoction of pain numbing potions, mostly made from poppy seed and willow bark. Half of him was conscious of the situation around him, the other half was lost in a daze from the medicine.
The swordsman turned to look over at his neighbor. And he looked just as bad as he did. Possibly worse. The gash on his leg was bandaged up. When his white haired companion commented on the nights events, Duma felt the need to respond.
“That sucked.”
Before he could retort to the comment about meeting a mystery woman, both of them were interrupted by another man. Now, even in his half baked state Duma could tell he’d never met this individual before. Vincent seemed to know him.
“That thing was coated in arrows, axes, and had a sword plunged through its chest.” And a partridge in a pear tree. Duma pointed to the table across from him. The spoils of their war with the undead were lined up on a table. The head was partially uncovered and sitting in a bowl of its own filth. The arm was propped up on one of the table’s legs. And the sword was alongside it.
“And.. it wasn't alone. You've got a terrible pest problem in the tombs.”
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