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Necromancy: still evil (Hunting the Hunted log | Action, then open Video)
Fayren's Knight Captain had sent out the call, and six answered. Their mission? Find a pair of undead dragons and make them properly dead. The thought of laying waste to those sinister serpents and a necromantic abomination all at once gave Ted an itchy trigger finger. No offense, Qubine.
Speaking of his teammates, Ted's first instinct was to deviate. Not because he didn't trust them; they all seemed like decent enough people, or at the very least people he could trust to not prolong the poor wyverns' suffering. He'd wrestled with Qubine and played electro-volleyball with Dray before; clearly some of them were used to pain. But this was different. These things could kill you by breathing. And that's not a risk he's willing to let anyone take but himself. Colette, i.e., a woman throwing herself into the mix only aggravated his protective spirit. Why on earth was that necessary? Ted's certain one could turn over a rock and find perfectly serviceable warriors to take her place.
But what's he going to do? Tell them to go home; that he'd handle it himself? It's never that easy. So he'd compromise; there were two of them, so he'd try and get one all to himself. That, he felt, was the best way to keep everyone safe. Ted would talk tactics.
"These wyverns work in tandem, then? I'm afraid we never have, ergo they have the advantage there. Let's drive a wedge between them, eh? Keep them apart to make things manageable. How about this: when we've found the foul things, I'll pounce upon them if there's distance enough. Doubtless his partner in crime will rush to join him; please me and intercept him before he can, and we'll handle our enemies singly, all right?"
Ted would talk past any objections.
"Great! Now, if I'm right, their unfortunate ability to scramble our minds poses a problem. I have a solution. Here." He'd pass out some of the anti-magic charms he got from Konoka.
"Those, I think, ought to bar your brains from any wayward compulsions. They'll stop all sorcery, coming and going. They will suppress any magic of your own, however. Suppose you devil-worshiping occultists know best whether that's worth the risk."
What a kidder. If anyone were to raise concerns over his competency or safety in trying to bring down one of them on his own...
"Ahaha, that's kind of you, really. Don't worry; I may flirt with death, but we're a ways from marriage. Believe me, it's for the best."
There's some resolution breaking through his usual, careless cheer. He very much dislikes the thought of others putting themselves in harm's way, especially Colette. If he can't spare them the trouble, he'd do the next best thing.
The party found their quarry soon enough, in the forlorn woods of Fayren. The wyverns practically dripped with rot and decay. The dying, almost dusty trees and wilted greenery marked their tread. By the slight tremors they felt, odds were good that the enemy was in sight. A hand was raised to hush. One wyvern approached, gaunt and sickly. It's skin was pitch black, and a cruel malice radiated from an otherwise dark and garish creature, far past its prime. The only bright spot was its glowing green eyes and maw, where its poison flared and brewed, ready to kill all it touched.
Ted was afraid, but he was afraid for what might happen to the others more. He donned his goku uniform in a flash, draping himself in fibers that were somehow even blacker than the necrotic monstrosity.
"Go under the Omnipotence," he breathed, before running off. Two threads flew off his head, wheeling through the air before lancing themselves in the dragon's hide. He jerked in his course, aiming to pull it away from where the second was sensed. The first thing to do was make distance and separate, as he'd planned. He prayed the others would survive the ordeal. As for his own survival? Well, the dragon had gone along for the ride for a few seconds, before it breathed on the threads and put the plague to work, eroding and dissolving them. Organic themselves, the life fibers duly corroded into dust, and might have infected the entirety of the suit had Ted not wisely decided to amputate them first.
A dance with a dead dragon. How macabre.
---
Ted was on the defensive, putting all his enhanced speed and reflexes to dodging out of the deathly-green breath that would turn him to dust with a moment's exposure. He still felt in his right mind, affording him minor relief that his mind was still his own. The forest was faring worse, pock-marks of rot and death as the wilderness around them wilted before that breath's killing power.
He slung a few more threads to surround the creature and, hopefully, trap it into the void. No luck; it seemed to be able to sense the predatory nature of the fibers, and out of reflex, slashed them away until they too were going to rot. Ted had plenty of threads, but if he keeps sending them out to wither and die like that...well, he'd rather not test his supply.
Munitions might help. Dashing between the trees and through thickets, he produced a potent bomb. No worry about despoiling nature; the wyvern was doing quite enough of that on its own. He jumped skyward, then pitched it like a comet into its open maw, trying to smoke him out with more plague breath. At least the sound of the explosion would alert everyone else that he was still alive and well. As for the dragon?
It made a dent, but not much more. Even so rotten, a dragon's preternatural toughness was a force to be reckoned with. Rats! It seemed nothing he had from afar was strong enough. Has he no other choice than to get in close and risk death so near?
The wyvern slashed and breathed its way in a mad dash towards Ted as he made an awkward landing, his ascent giving away his position. He scrambled again to evade the creature, ever grateful for the agility the suit afforded. Maybe a diversion might work?
Thinking a few steps ahead for once, Ted placed one thread behind the dragon while he circled around ahead of it. From that thread, he fired a burst from the strongest firearm he could. That got its attention; now's his chance! As the wyvern breathed at the offending thread from behind, Ted took that chance to run up and carve into its underside. His strength with a sword ensured the cut would find far greater purchase than most weapons at his disposal. It roared in dismay, snapping at Ted as he slid underneath, leaping out of harm's way again out of another blast of breath.
The "apex predator" grew wise to that tactic, covering its defenses upon a second attempt. As Ted ran in again, it destroyed the thread and whipped Ted away with its tail, sending him sailing into a nearby stump. This stunned him, for a moment, but it was long enough to grant the dragon an advantage as it made to bridge the gap and finish him off. Ted panicked, wondering if the sin of being predictable would be what killed him. And if he died, wouldn't it make to rejoin its partner and give the rest more trouble?
No; that must not happen. With a burst of renewed vigor, he sent almost every thread he had underground. The dragons sensed something was amiss as it instinctively felt its threats multiply. No matter; with one breath, it could evaporate Ted and deal with the rest later. It reared up, noxious fumes ablaze, and then--
Ted was gone, vanished into the myriad portals he had made beneath. The threads had traveled fast and far, thanks in part to all the roots and troublesome undergrowth the wyvern had so considerately killed. The attack had killed only a smattering of the trace Ted left behind. And the rest? They had surrounded the creature from all sides. They rose up, a dark dome rising above the creature, casting a great and black shadow to consume it from above and around. For once, the wyvern expressed something like fear as it breathed more plague into the expanse of void coming to consume it. It was all for naught; it breathed into nothing, and nothing was its destination. It was in the void's clutches, and at Ted's mercy.
He had an easy time of it from there. He hopes the others fared better.
---
[Video]
[On the phone, Ted pants, clearly having undergone a great deal of physical exertion. Don't worry, he's in normal clothes, not that creepy uniform you're not supposed to know about. And you know what makes him feel better? Talk of books. All this plague business has him thinking of one in particular, and all the open questions it could provoke.]
"Two dogs, desirous of man's companionship but denied by man's abuses, suffer in exile as they make a treacherous journey. They were experimented on, you see, for cancer research or something equally noble. This left one of them cracked, much to the chagrin of the saner other. Still, they are friends to the end; their journey concludes as they swim out to sea, seeking an "Island" which the insane dog swears by, and the sane one can only trust in, likely to his doom. It isn't clear whether they made it; they probably drowned, given the sad nature of the story up to that point. Like Sancho and Quixote, if...Quixote had come much nearer to death, if only because he went much farther in fancy.
That sane dog; the one who put his faith in his silly friend and his island...do you think he was a fool?"
[Clearly the antidote for being so winded was conversation.]
Speaking of his teammates, Ted's first instinct was to deviate. Not because he didn't trust them; they all seemed like decent enough people, or at the very least people he could trust to not prolong the poor wyverns' suffering. He'd wrestled with Qubine and played electro-volleyball with Dray before; clearly some of them were used to pain. But this was different. These things could kill you by breathing. And that's not a risk he's willing to let anyone take but himself. Colette, i.e., a woman throwing herself into the mix only aggravated his protective spirit. Why on earth was that necessary? Ted's certain one could turn over a rock and find perfectly serviceable warriors to take her place.
But what's he going to do? Tell them to go home; that he'd handle it himself? It's never that easy. So he'd compromise; there were two of them, so he'd try and get one all to himself. That, he felt, was the best way to keep everyone safe. Ted would talk tactics.
"These wyverns work in tandem, then? I'm afraid we never have, ergo they have the advantage there. Let's drive a wedge between them, eh? Keep them apart to make things manageable. How about this: when we've found the foul things, I'll pounce upon them if there's distance enough. Doubtless his partner in crime will rush to join him; please me and intercept him before he can, and we'll handle our enemies singly, all right?"
Ted would talk past any objections.
"Great! Now, if I'm right, their unfortunate ability to scramble our minds poses a problem. I have a solution. Here." He'd pass out some of the anti-magic charms he got from Konoka.
"Those, I think, ought to bar your brains from any wayward compulsions. They'll stop all sorcery, coming and going. They will suppress any magic of your own, however. Suppose you devil-worshiping occultists know best whether that's worth the risk."
What a kidder. If anyone were to raise concerns over his competency or safety in trying to bring down one of them on his own...
"Ahaha, that's kind of you, really. Don't worry; I may flirt with death, but we're a ways from marriage. Believe me, it's for the best."
There's some resolution breaking through his usual, careless cheer. He very much dislikes the thought of others putting themselves in harm's way, especially Colette. If he can't spare them the trouble, he'd do the next best thing.
The party found their quarry soon enough, in the forlorn woods of Fayren. The wyverns practically dripped with rot and decay. The dying, almost dusty trees and wilted greenery marked their tread. By the slight tremors they felt, odds were good that the enemy was in sight. A hand was raised to hush. One wyvern approached, gaunt and sickly. It's skin was pitch black, and a cruel malice radiated from an otherwise dark and garish creature, far past its prime. The only bright spot was its glowing green eyes and maw, where its poison flared and brewed, ready to kill all it touched.
Ted was afraid, but he was afraid for what might happen to the others more. He donned his goku uniform in a flash, draping himself in fibers that were somehow even blacker than the necrotic monstrosity.
"Go under the Omnipotence," he breathed, before running off. Two threads flew off his head, wheeling through the air before lancing themselves in the dragon's hide. He jerked in his course, aiming to pull it away from where the second was sensed. The first thing to do was make distance and separate, as he'd planned. He prayed the others would survive the ordeal. As for his own survival? Well, the dragon had gone along for the ride for a few seconds, before it breathed on the threads and put the plague to work, eroding and dissolving them. Organic themselves, the life fibers duly corroded into dust, and might have infected the entirety of the suit had Ted not wisely decided to amputate them first.
A dance with a dead dragon. How macabre.
---
Ted was on the defensive, putting all his enhanced speed and reflexes to dodging out of the deathly-green breath that would turn him to dust with a moment's exposure. He still felt in his right mind, affording him minor relief that his mind was still his own. The forest was faring worse, pock-marks of rot and death as the wilderness around them wilted before that breath's killing power.
He slung a few more threads to surround the creature and, hopefully, trap it into the void. No luck; it seemed to be able to sense the predatory nature of the fibers, and out of reflex, slashed them away until they too were going to rot. Ted had plenty of threads, but if he keeps sending them out to wither and die like that...well, he'd rather not test his supply.
Munitions might help. Dashing between the trees and through thickets, he produced a potent bomb. No worry about despoiling nature; the wyvern was doing quite enough of that on its own. He jumped skyward, then pitched it like a comet into its open maw, trying to smoke him out with more plague breath. At least the sound of the explosion would alert everyone else that he was still alive and well. As for the dragon?
It made a dent, but not much more. Even so rotten, a dragon's preternatural toughness was a force to be reckoned with. Rats! It seemed nothing he had from afar was strong enough. Has he no other choice than to get in close and risk death so near?
The wyvern slashed and breathed its way in a mad dash towards Ted as he made an awkward landing, his ascent giving away his position. He scrambled again to evade the creature, ever grateful for the agility the suit afforded. Maybe a diversion might work?
Thinking a few steps ahead for once, Ted placed one thread behind the dragon while he circled around ahead of it. From that thread, he fired a burst from the strongest firearm he could. That got its attention; now's his chance! As the wyvern breathed at the offending thread from behind, Ted took that chance to run up and carve into its underside. His strength with a sword ensured the cut would find far greater purchase than most weapons at his disposal. It roared in dismay, snapping at Ted as he slid underneath, leaping out of harm's way again out of another blast of breath.
The "apex predator" grew wise to that tactic, covering its defenses upon a second attempt. As Ted ran in again, it destroyed the thread and whipped Ted away with its tail, sending him sailing into a nearby stump. This stunned him, for a moment, but it was long enough to grant the dragon an advantage as it made to bridge the gap and finish him off. Ted panicked, wondering if the sin of being predictable would be what killed him. And if he died, wouldn't it make to rejoin its partner and give the rest more trouble?
No; that must not happen. With a burst of renewed vigor, he sent almost every thread he had underground. The dragons sensed something was amiss as it instinctively felt its threats multiply. No matter; with one breath, it could evaporate Ted and deal with the rest later. It reared up, noxious fumes ablaze, and then--
Ted was gone, vanished into the myriad portals he had made beneath. The threads had traveled fast and far, thanks in part to all the roots and troublesome undergrowth the wyvern had so considerately killed. The attack had killed only a smattering of the trace Ted left behind. And the rest? They had surrounded the creature from all sides. They rose up, a dark dome rising above the creature, casting a great and black shadow to consume it from above and around. For once, the wyvern expressed something like fear as it breathed more plague into the expanse of void coming to consume it. It was all for naught; it breathed into nothing, and nothing was its destination. It was in the void's clutches, and at Ted's mercy.
He had an easy time of it from there. He hopes the others fared better.
---
[Video]
[On the phone, Ted pants, clearly having undergone a great deal of physical exertion. Don't worry, he's in normal clothes, not that creepy uniform you're not supposed to know about. And you know what makes him feel better? Talk of books. All this plague business has him thinking of one in particular, and all the open questions it could provoke.]
"Two dogs, desirous of man's companionship but denied by man's abuses, suffer in exile as they make a treacherous journey. They were experimented on, you see, for cancer research or something equally noble. This left one of them cracked, much to the chagrin of the saner other. Still, they are friends to the end; their journey concludes as they swim out to sea, seeking an "Island" which the insane dog swears by, and the sane one can only trust in, likely to his doom. It isn't clear whether they made it; they probably drowned, given the sad nature of the story up to that point. Like Sancho and Quixote, if...Quixote had come much nearer to death, if only because he went much farther in fancy.
That sane dog; the one who put his faith in his silly friend and his island...do you think he was a fool?"
[Clearly the antidote for being so winded was conversation.]