Drawing a hatchet and a hammer as they arrive, Drake nods to Noala. "No problem, Noala. We'll take it from here."
Turning to the others, "Well, we've got a tree and a cave. A dark cave full of who knows what just waiting for us." Raising his eyebrows as he takes a deep breath, "Should be fun, right?!" Looking back to the tree, "Yeah. Fun."
Baradim's eyebrows lift at the sight of the writhing shrubberies, their roots ripping through its body to feed. Drawing his sword and shield in hand, he would give a nod to the others before they rushed the ravenous vegetation.
The beautiful steel sword, etched with a faintly glowing purple rune near the base of the blade, felt somewhat lighter in his hands. It was as if the rune was helping correct the blade, removing the small mistakes in his swings and stance. It took his potential as a warrior and focused it just that much more as he came down with a chopping strike.
What being a warrior never prepared you to fight was an angry bush. The strike was solid but it catches in brambles, branches, and leaves. The unexpected motions make the blade strike imperfectly, sparing the flora from being split into firewood.
After the horrors of Hallod's squalid abode, and seeing the man himself cleaved nearly in half, Niss was glad it was only plants they were tangling with. Still...how did one effectively kill vegetation? Fire, obviously, but that wasn't her forte. She would have to hope making a salad out of it worked well enough...
Using the same trick that had been so brutally effective against the wolves and subsequently the dogs, she swirled her hands as though creating whirlpools in water, and an area around the three moving plants became a brief tempest of levitating debris, mulch and stone and the like lifted and swirled...though it was much less effective against light foliage than meaty canines.
The Princess Guard, warned by Finoan, rush to attack the aggressive flora before they get a chance to attack.
Finoan’s orb of compressed water hits the bush full force; however, the damage seems to have very little effect on the plant…
Inniska’s rend shakes the tendrils of the aggressive plants–one of them seems entirely unaffected and the other two lose a leaf or two and their tendrils wave around aggressively in response. It seems some of the damage meant doesn’t hurt them much.
Fin gasps in pain from the vine attack. "huuff, these things hit hard."
He ◆Steps away to get out of reach of the plant and then ◆hurries up to the north to get even farther away.
"What are we even dealing with here?" Fin searches his memory to remember anything he can about these vicious ambulatory plants.
"I don't think I have seen anything quite like this before."
"Um... I may not be a botanist, but I don't remember any type of plants that move that quickly." Fin points to a carcass that looks like it is crawling with worms. Worms made of plants.
"Yeah, that's disgusting. And those things have got to go."
Drake moves a little closer and launches his hammer and hatchet at the nearest one.
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Seeing Fin get absolutely torn up by a bush, "By the gods, what are these things?!" Drake then focuses in on the red one, pulling out multiple hatchets, thinking they'll prove more effective versus plants, and tosses them one after the other.
Niss's eyes widen at how badly the plants injure Fin, and she quickly reaches out to heal his wounds. "You were there for me when I needed you last night. Allow me to repay the favor."
"Mind if I borrow one of these, love?". Without waiting for a reply, she ◆pulls a hatchet from Drake's belt, so she can fling it mentally at one of the plants momentarily. There isn't much else sharp around, and her storm of pebbles proved plants were unsurprisingly difficult to bludgeon to death.
Fin feels a deep calming feeling and his injury lessens quite a bit. "Thank you, princess."
Niss's eyes widen at how badly the plants injure Fin, and she quickly reaches out to heal his wounds. "You were there for me when I needed you last night. Allow me to repay the favor."
"Mind if I borrow one of these, love?". Without waiting for a reply, she ◆pulls a hatchet from Drake's belt, so she can fling it mentally at one of the plants momentarily. There isn't much else sharp around, and her storm of pebbles proved plants were unsurprisingly difficult to bludgeon to death.
Glancing over his shoulder and wearing a smile, "It's all yours, sweetheart. I can beat 'em to death just as easily. If nothing else, distract them enough to where Baradim can make a decent vegetable stew out of 'em." He winks before retuning his focus back to the crazy plants.
Baradim prepares for the worst, raising his shield up protectively. He scans these shrubberies, anticipating their movements and strikes. When the opportunity comes for him to make his move, he strikes surgically and viciously.
Drake launches his hatchet at the nearest bush and slices cleanly through some of the leaves, carving a sheer edge into the bush. His hammer hits right after, but the bush seems to shake off some of the hit. The hammer and the hatchet clatter to the ground next to the bush.
Drake draws two more hatchets and launches them at the same bush, carving away more of the bush’s leaves, causing the tendril coming out of it to whip around angrily. Both hatchets land near the previously thrown weapons.
Some of Finoan’s wounds close while he attempts to examine the angry flora, but nothing really seems to come to mind…just some weird, angry plants in the middle of a blighted area.
Baradim’s strikes are, indeed, surgically accurate–he clips the leaves of the bush in front of him with precision, reducing the strange plant to half of its former glory.
The bush beside Baradim lashes out at the orc, hitting the warrior hard. Baradim raises his shield and blocks the vine with a snarl, shoving the bush back a tad.
Blood pours from the wounds left by the vicious tendril without stopping.
The bush is badly hurt, knows it…and knows exactly what it needs. It stays still, lashing out with its long tendril at Drake.
It just barely manages to hit Drake, but slices into the ranger’s torso, blood pouring from the wound and not stopping.
The bush shuffles around the already wounded Baradim, desiring much the same as its other leafy comrade, and lashes out at Drake as well.
When the first vine doesn't hit, it lashes out again in shrubbish fury.
Niss pales as she sees each of her friends being slashed badly, in turn. As soon as she helped Fin, the other two were whipped bloody, and one of the plants seemed to be...drinking from Drake.
Breath coming rapidly, she took a ◆step closer to Drake, ◆◆tearing a long strip from the bottom of her dress and tying around his wounds to stem the flow. She would help Baradim next, but there just wasn't time.
"Pull back! We should hit them from range!"
"Well, watering the plants didn't do any good. How about fire?" Fin mutters to himself.
"Niss is right. We need to pull back a bit. Baradim, glad you bought those potions now, yes?"
Fin ◆moves to the south a bit to get in range, ◆pulls out one of the Alchemist Fire flasks, and hurls it at the bush to the south that is draining Drake.
Baradim is battered by the vines, being brought to a knee as a massive shot overhead cracks his shield and dents it unusuable. The sheer force of the attack sends pain jolting through his arm as he feels his forearm crack in pain. Blood drips from the multiple slashes across his whole frame and he shakingly steps back up to his feet.
His eyes focus again even as his blood drips to the ground, his body growing chilly with an almost uncomfortable speed. Stepping closer to his comrades, he gets out of range from the bushes when Fin's flask of fire blows up upon the bush.
The mighty orc swings his blade, aiming to try and cut down the bush closest to him before making a rush to his comrades.
After his swing, the warrior has to retreat. Falling back to his comrades, leaving a streak of red behind in his wake.
"Yeah, I'm th-th...tha" Baradim begins to say before he stumbles, the green skin looking paler than before. He collapses onto the ground, unconscious as he continues to bleed.
Fin says something under his breath that you can't quite make out and probably couldn't understand anyway. "Well, at least he has the sense to pass out over here. Niss, if you have any healing magic available, now would be the time to use it. He is still bleeding rather badly. I'll see what I can do about that."
Watching half of the team getting obliterated by these stupid bushes, Drake finds himself stunned when he sees the orc fall. "Baradim has potions! Take them out of his pack and pour them down his throat! Use them all! My hatchets are over there, Niss! You're free to use them at your leisure!" Drawing one hammer after another, Drake launches them in rapid succesion at the bush that's trying to drain his life from him.
"I can heal him, but be careful! I don't have a lot left in that department.". She eyed the plants warily, fearing they would have time to attack again before she could help the orc.
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In the moments before Baradim falls unconscious, he manages to strike a critical killing blow on the bloodlash bush, putting an end to its threat even as the deadly flora puts an end to his.
Finoan launches a flask of alchemical fire that seems to be wildly effective against the plantlife; an obvious assumption, all things considered.
Niss wraps Drake’s wounds, finally managing to staunch the flow of blood, and Drake’s hammer throws, despite one missing and the plant seeming to shrug off some of the damage, does in the sinister shrub.
Noala emerges from the foliage behind them, kneeling down next to Baradim, and begins to bandage the still-seeping wounds.
"My hand is crippled. This is all I can do." She stays nearby, keeping an eye out for anything else approaching...or for anyone who needs a bandage.
The last bush standing rustles forward and lashes its tendril out twice, once at Drake and once at Finoan. Its slashes
"Rrrrr. These plants are entirely too fast with their vines." Fin growls as he takes another vine lash.
He ◆pulls out the other fire bomb and throws it. "Was a bit silly of me to not prepare a fire spell when going into a forest. Who wouldn't want to start a forest fire?"
Finoan looks behind him at the fallen Baradim, then over at Drake who isn't looking any better than Fin himself is.
"I didn't even prepare my shield spell today." He shakes his head. "No help for it now though."
Not willing to stop protecting his ally, Fin simply crouches down, flattens his ears back, and hisses at the bush.
Finoan continues bleeding noticeably.
Getting slashed again by the psychotic bush, "Gods I HATE these things!" Turning around, he looks at the fallen Baradim and contemplates what he's about to do but not for very long. Reaching down, he takes his weapon. "Sorry, Baradim, but I really need to borrow this." Turning back to face the bush, "When this thing hits me again and I fall like a rock from on high, I've got a potion in my pack. Give it to Baradim, please. I don't want him dying on us." Drake then steps forward and slashes at the blood-sucking shrubbery.
Drake then prepares himself for the worst. "Alright you stupid plant, let's see what you got. This freaking town has crapped on us both literally and figuratively and frankly, we hate you both absolutely."
Niss trusts Fin and Drake to keep the demon plant at bay and focuses entirely on Baradim. He's still bleeding. He has potions. She has magic. But it's all a race against time, with the enemy hurting the others again while she decides, and with Baradim's life blood draining away. She could heal him exactly twice. If she didn't do well enough then the bleeding would threaten him again. She could stop the bleed, but then would lack the time to heal him, or to find the potions and use them on him.
The bleed had to come first. Any other healing would be undone otherwise, and the more blood he lost, the nearer death loomed. ◆◆Tearing another strip from her dress, she tried to tie off the bleed, putting pressure on the worst of his wounds.
With that attempted, she laid her hands on his chest and closed her eyes. The source of her power was her emotions. Stronger ones were more powerful, but channeling more power hurt. There wasn't time to care about that now. And certainly, she had significant power waiting to be released.
Unleashing her psyche fully was only possible on the tail of another spell. Something had to breach the cage she put around her feelings before they could all erupt. But there was no time for a full casting of a heal or something similar. So instead, she spoke to her unconscious friend, with a ◆message planted directly into his mind. Maybe he'd hear her, maybe he wouldn't. But it would be the spark that allowed her to unleash her raw power momentarily.
"Baradim. Come back to us. Please. We need you. Tamli needs you. Fight. Fight for her."
The sounds of the world grew softer and softer as Baradim drifted off, the pain of his wounds seeming to disappear. He felt cold but fine, like he was drifting along in a riverbed just deep enough to let him float. It was truly peaceful for a moment as his mind emptied and moved away.
He could almost see it, the blurring of light and dark. Phantoms moved at the side of his being, pulling him along with the gentlest of hands.
"Come Baradim, Come He-Who-Walks-The-Earth, Come Private Greenskin, Come Baradom of the Darak-Kull. Come and join the procession." The voices whispered, guiding him through the thick haze. A place began to manifest before him, a line infinitesimally long before a massive spire in a sea of mists and stars.
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It seemed a little ridiculous, really. That these shrubs, these blood-sucking bundles of leaves, could knock The Princess Guard so low. That the plants were so deceptively powerful. In the final moments of the battle, everything seems to be a blur: Finoan desperately launching a flask of alchemical fire at the bush, lighting the animated vegetation on fire; Drake taking Baradim’s sword and bringing it down over the bush, cutting through budding flames and the tendril with a desperate swing; Niss kneeling beside their massive, dying friend, staunching wounds and using magic to restore health. Noala hovers at the edges, ready to bandage more seeping wounds.
Baradim, drifting along in the peaceful waters that would bring him through the gates of death, coaxed along by the phantom guides, hears a familiar voice drift into his mind: ”Baradim. Come back to us. Please. We need you. Tamli needs you. Fight. Fight for her.” For a brief moment, the orc pauses. He knows that voice. It’s familiar, and it grasps at his drifting body gently, pulling him backward, away from the phantoms and the gates.
For a moment, Baradim fights: this is a peace he could only dream of. No more obligations, no more shame, no more grief–nothing weighs heavy on his heart anymore. But those words slipped into the cracks and whittled away at his peace. The thought of his newfound friends, a newfound love, coping without him…Baradim takes one more look at the gates of death and then turns away, following a faint tendril of light back to a hazy portal.
As Baradim steps through the hazy portal to conciousness, he is slammed with white-hot pain…a pain that reminds him that he is alive, alive with promises to keep and friends to protect.
Fin sees the last animated bush collapse from a combination of the flames and Drake's attack. He does the same, though less quietly.
"Rrrrheaow. That hurts," he grumbles, clutching his side where the worst of the bleeding is coming from. He rummages around in the pouch at his hip and pulls out some bandages.
As Finoan starts wrapping his wounds, he looks over at Drake. "You might want to return that sword before it is missed. Though I doubt Baradim has much room to complain about you using it."
Fin wraps up his own wounds to stop them bleeding and offers the same for Drake if Niss doesn't get to him first. Afterwards He goes over to the bushes and starts checking them over. "Nature isn't my best subject in school. Any of you guys have more experience with hostile wildlife?"
"I suggest we get out of this blighted area and patch ourselves up a bit. I don't feel like hanging around here for long periods of time unprepared."
After a bit more than an hour of work, Fin has managed to heal people up at least a bit.
Niss stops Drake's bleeding the moment the plants is dead, using more makeshift bandages. Once the flow is stemmed, Baradim is moving again, and Fin seems safe, she lets it all out -- the dread she's felt since last night, the sympathy she felt for Vilree, the acute terror that a vegetable was about to kill her whole family. All three of them feel a wave of healing coming from her, right before she winces in pain from the exertion.
With Baradim's sword held out, Drake squints an eye and awaits the lashing from the demonic bush. Seeing none come forth, he notices the fire seems to have finished it off. Breathing a HUGE sigh of relief as he looks to the sky, "Thank the gods!!!" All he can do is shake his head and get to work to help stop all the dying.
As Finoan starts wrapping his wounds, he looks over at Drake. "You might want to return that sword before it is missed. Though I doubt Baradim has much room to complain about you using it."
Nodding, "Yeah, that's a good idea." Drake then opens the orc's free hand and places the hilt within before closing his fingers over it. "There, that ought to do it."
Niss stops Drake's bleeding the moment the plants is dead, using more makeshift bandages. Once the flow is stemmed, Baradim is moving again, and Fin seems safe, she lets it all out -- the dread she's felt since last night, the sympathy she felt for Vilree, the acute terror that a vegetable was about to kill her whole family. All three of them feel a wave of healing coming from her, right before she winces in pain from the exertion.
Smiling at her, "Thanks, Niss." He also doesn't miss her reaction after she expends healing upon them all. Looking at her inquisitively, "Niss? You alright? That looked like that hurt or something."
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Baradim walked quietly with the guides of the dead towards that immeasurable line. Memories faded and for a moment there was that gentle peace that one only experienced twice in life; birth and death. Yet a voice pours into his mind unbiddened. It stirs the fog in his mind and his body hurts.
"Ah. Not yet, it seems. The Lady does not wish to see you yet, young orc." The voice of the psychopomp beside him spoke, thought, and maybe he just imagined the amusement in its voice. "...or will you stay?"
The voice was calling him back, back from the end of everything. The end of pain, of his sorrows, of his shame, everything that weighed him down. It felt unbearable but as he felt those words reverberate, his hands instinctively reached up for the debts that hung around his neck. It was more than that though; there was friendship and there was love. There was more than the horrors of his past and present. There was hope waiting.
"The Lady can wait. I am a taken man." Baradim growled, an echoing chorus of amused chuckles following him as he moved towards the unending brightness before him. He walked into it, unafraid, bearing his teeth as the pain assailed his whole form and reminded him of the truth. He was alive. Still alive.
"Did you use it well?" Baradim mumbles from the ground as Drake slips the sword back into his hand. Slowly, the orc would sit up as pain echoed down through his whole frame. A litany of choice words in Orcish left his lips as he looked around. "You are all alright, more or less. Good, very good."
Shakily, he begins to rise as another wave of soothing came over him. It felt familiar, like he had just imagined something. Yet like a dream lost in the morning light, his brief time in the Boneyard was gone.
He also doesn't miss her reaction after she expends healing upon them all. Looking at her inquisitively, "Niss? You alright? That looked like that hurt or something."
The sensation passes relatively quickly, and she waves her hands reassuringly. "It's nothing, that just requires a bit of strain. Like when you lift something heavy, and have sore muscles later." She smiled. "A price I'm more than willing to pay a hundred times over to keep you three standing. I can help more soon, after I rest a few minutes."
She looked to Baradim. "Are you alright?"
"Did you use it well?"
Smiling as he scratches the back of his head in a show of awkwardness, "Let's say between me with your sword and Fin and his firebombs, we definitely made them pay." The ranger will then offer the orc a hand to assist him up if he so desires.
Fin says to Noala, "Well, the only thing I know for sure is that those are not normal plants. But I don't think I have to tell you that. I have heard of vampires, but I don't think that condition extends to plant life. Usually plants wait until you are dead before trying to eat you."
Noala nods. "This is the first time I've run into these plants. I try to steer clear of flora I don't recognize." The elven woman looks troubled, cradling her crippled hand regretfully.
"I noticed a trail of blood near the entrance to a cave under the tree. Looks like something got caught by one of my snares and isn't doing well. We can take a look inside, but it's a tight fit. Do you all want to push forward, or do you need to rest?" She glances worriedly at them all, especially Baradim.
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"I...hurt." The orc confesses. His wounds are bandaged but still leaking. The blood drain was what lasted the most and even with her psychic soothing and Finoan's skill, it would take time for the body to recuperate. The orc would grasp the ranger's hand, pulling himself upwards before looking at his shield. The front of it was horrendously dented from the impact of the blow.
"A good shield. Saved my life. We'll get you fixed soon." Baradim lays it against the nearby tree, and takes off the backpack he wore. Underneath it was his wooden shield, the original one that he had arrived to Etran's Folly with.
After an hour of recovery, the pallor has returned to the warrior's face and he moves with grace. He still is a little slower somewhat but the dazed look he had when he first awoke is replaced with the almost furious focus he commonly had.
"I will be fine. I have survived the dead and now ferocious plants. I am ready when you all are." Baradim looks to each of his comrades, waiting to see if they would press forward or not.
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Noticing Baradim set his good shield aside and pull out the old wooden one, he goes over to it. "Actually, if you give me a few minutes more, I should be able to do something about this too." He pulls out his tools from his pack and gets to work.
You all approach the old, rotting tree–sure enough, Noala is right. There is a trail of blood leading into the small entrance to the space underneath. The closer you get, the more you all smell the tell-tale scent of wet dog, tinged with the smell of rot and sickness.
The entrance itself looks cramped - you all will fit, but only going single file.
"Bah. I think I have had a year's supply of dogs in the last few days."
Fin hopes that someone else will volunteer to go through first, but hunkers down and heads through in short order.
Baradim looks over the shield as Finoan gets to work, his tools working out the dents and fixing the crack on the wooden reinforcements. In a matter of minutes, the shield was almost entirely restored. It had a weathered look, the black castles of Lastwall scraped but the shield was ready for combat once again.
"Good. This is very good." Baradim says as he picks it up, testing it with a solid strike of his fist. "Thank you Finoan." Stowing his old shield once more, he would turn towards the old, rotting tree that was there. He gives them all a nod and lifts his shield like he is playing Dark Souls and is exploring a new area and leads the way in slowly, taking the lead.
Gathering up all his weapons, Drake looks at the tiny entrance. "Great. Another crawl space." Looking to Niss with concern etched upon his face, "You want to go before me, Niss?"
She shook her head. "I'll be alright. But be careful, please. I'm a bit tapped."
"I'll stay out here and make sure nothing follows you in," Noala says, a grim look on her face as she goes to inspect her snares.
When you all enter, the narrow tunnel is slick with a foul-smelling mud that coats the skin as you shuffle through. It leads down into a cramped den lit by a shimmering pool of oily water. The chamber reeks: wet dog, rot, and illness permeate the air. Next to the pool, between the gnarled and dying tree roots, is the rotting carcass of what must have once been a truly gigantic wolf. Nosing around it is a pair of hairless mutant wolves, their bodies deformed by large pustules and tumors. One of them is limping, presumably injured by Noala’s snares. Although they have no eyes, they clearly detect your presence, for they turn their heads at you and snarl.
The den itself is filled with hanging vines and roots, making it difficult to see.
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She shook her head. "I'll be alright. But be careful, please. I'm a bit tapped."
Studying her for a moment, the ranger finally gives a nod. "Alright. But if you need anything, anything at all, let me know, okay? Doesn't matter what it is." Drake then allows Fin to go ahead of him before he follows. He double-checks to make sure that Niss is following and only feels safe when she's finally behind him.
Baradim hears the growling of the sightless monstrosities, these mutant wolves baring their fangs. Baradim returns the favor, snarling low as his eyes capture what little light was in here and making them glow with deadly purpose.
He moves carefully, feet splashing in the muddy soil before running atop the giant carcass to dash between the creatures. He lifts his shield, aiming it towards the wolf that is uninjured, before thrusting his blade to try and pierce the other beast's heart.
Drake moves toward the nearest freakshow of a wolf, pulls out a hatchet in each hand, and strikes!
Studying her for a moment, the ranger finally gives a nod. "Alright. But if you need anything, anything at all, let me know, okay? Doesn't matter what it is." Drake then allows Fin to go ahead of him before he follows. He double-checks to make sure that Niss is following and only feels safe when she's finally behind him.
She felt like she was barely holding together in some ways, and Drake's thoughtfulness and concern lightened her burden more than he knew.
Emerging into the cave, she took a deep breath and exhaled in a huff. Sympathy or no, if Vilree was behind all this, the woman would have much to answer for. Niss was neck deep in her own problems and could stand to do with 100% fewer plant and wolf mutants.
She stepped into the open space until she could see, then targeted the areas just behind each wolf with her spinning vortexes of death.
Fin sighs. "Yup, more dogs that need put down. Starving wolves, starving dogs, now pustule, blind dogs." He watches the one near Drake to see how it moves.
"Well, they can see well enough without seeing. But..." He creeps towards that mutant dog and claws it where it doesn't expect.
Baradim strikes true and slashes across the pustules on the mutated wolf, eliciting a yelp and a growl from the beast.
Drake engages with the already-injured wolf, a hatchet in each hand, and strikes out–the first strike hacks away at the beast’s neck, but the other goes wide when the wolf stumbles from the initial impact and manages to dodge out of the way in the process. Finoan takes a moment to study the dog’s movements and reactions to Drake and Baradim, then hones in on the pustules on the mutated wolf’s body, slashing across them with precision.
Both wolves are caught in Niss’ vortexes and yelp in fear and pain.
The wolf in front of Baradim growls in response to Baradim’s hits and lunges at the orc, acid dripping from its maw.
Once the wolf sinks its teeth into Baradim’s flesh, it yanks hard, ripping at Baradim’s flesh. The acid on its jaws begin to seep into Baradim’s bloodstream, burning like hot fire.
The wolf in front of Drake snaps at the ranger, attempting much the same as its packmate. It sinks its teeth in for a bit, then yanks to tear at Drake’s flesh and snaps its jaw again. Luckily, the last strike misses, but Drake feels a sharp burning at the wound site.
When the wolf leaps upon Baradim, its acidic maw sinks in deeply into his shoulder despite the shield getting in the way. Baradim roars in pain as it begins to rip his flesh before mustering the legendary strength that orcs were known for. He throws it off of his body, slamming it hard into the ground where it whimpers for a moment before getting back up to attack.
The acid burns into his flesh, caustically ruining his skin and darkening where it burns. Yet when the wolf comes in for another attack, Baradim catches it in the face with the side of his shield, knocking it back.
The big man shouts, knocking it off-balanced as he turns and strikes at the injured dog behind him that is fighting Drake. The blade thrusts in, looking to rupture what organs were left unmutated inside of it.
He then turns his blade around, seeking to ends its miserable life with a downward chop. His shield is lifted up once more to protect himself, despite its battered condition. He winces, the acid burning and smoking around his bite wound.