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Reminds Me of Home; (O)
Topic Started: Sat Mar 28, 2009 5:16 am (315 Views)
Barizzin
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The smell of the Hauntwood Marsh was so redeeming, so rank, so disgusting, and so nostalgic. It smelled very akin to the City of Dis back in Hell. It was such a liberating odor that Lou knew he would visit here sooner or later. He walked slowly through the thickest part of the marsh, enjoying the pleasant scenery all around him which reminded him of the River Styx after somebody had been foolish enough to jump in. It sloshed about achingly underneath his near gallant footsteps as he treaded through.
__ Although it was a great place to enjoy such wondrous scenery, Lou wasn’t here to enjoy himself. Well, at least he wasn’t here only to enjoy himself. He needed to find and raise leeches. He had an upcoming task which would require a lot of leeches and there was no better place to find a leech than the River Styx. Unfortunately he didn’t currently have access to the River Styx so instead he settled with the next best thing in Imythess, the Hauntwood Marsh.
He knew they wouldn’t be in the more resistant part of the swamp which was why he was desperately trying to force his way to thinner waters which held the little bloodsuckers. Of course his use for them would not be to consume somebody’s blood so much as it would be to cure a particular type of poison he would be facing in an upcoming mission.
__ The Marsh almost seemed to be whispering to him of something’s presence, but there wasn’t any time to worry about that. He had to find those leeches post haste!
__ Eventually past the trees he found thinner waters, something almost seemed to be attacking his legs with anticipation. Could this have been where the leeches were? He lifted his leg to look, but alas it was nothing more than the unfortunate breaking of baby alligator teeth on toughened devil skin. He let out an almost anguished sigh as he picked the baby gators from his legs and sent them back into the water.
__ He could have sworn that the leeches would be here. But where were they?
“Where are the damndable leeches!?” He called out wishing for a quick and simple answer to his dilemma. But none seemed to come. In hell, there was almost always somebody to help, but in Imythess you were almost always alone, even with somebody in earshot.
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Sangre Azul
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Sangre, former gladiator, former possessor of two arms, looked about himself blurrily.

There were two reasons for this. The first was not typical, despite racial stereotypes that proclaimed all goblinkind to be perpetually intoxicated. Still, the orc was horribly, horribly drunk. This involved a long, complicated and rather convoluted tale that had to do with an orphanage and a bet and an old woman who had a liver made of granite. But that was besides the point because, as the orc was starting to suspect, the old woman had not been all that she had seemed and the children neither.

(In retrospect, the fact the orphanage was a hut with chicken legs seemed a trifle odd.)

The second reason was a bit more reasonable. Or at least less liable to get all sort of liberal editorial literary types to proclaim the equality of the races regardless of the random looting, pillaging, rampaging that some races supposedly managed more often than others. After all, and this fact was undeniably true, everyone's hands had blood on them if your view was long and far away enough. And if you looked back really far, it had all been the fault of that stupid god who had decided to make the world in the first place.

The second reason was that Sangre, former gladiator and whatnot, current drunk and wanderer of a stinking, smelly marsh had blurry vision was that something had latched onto his head, covered his face and inserted scissory teeth that were apparently trying to get to his brain.

Luckily it was translucent so he could kind of make out shapes and forms as he wrestled with it and splashed around, searching for the mace he had dropped in a very vigorous attempt to knock the thing off. He really wished he had two arms. It had survived but the self-inflicted blow to the head had not helped Sangre any. A muffled voice rang through the brain-eaty-thing and Sangre stumbled towards it. In the best case scenario, the brain-eaty-thing would leave him and latch onto whatever else was out here, and in a worse one- well, this was already pretty bad so- eh, might as well give it a go.

Sangre charged.
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Barizzin
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Lou turned to see something greenish amongst the green-marsh setting grow larger and seemed to be a creature which was actually charging at him blindly. He stood there for a moment, holding a hand up and examining the randomly charging thing as it came closer and closer, noting that it had something stuck to its head as well as one missing arm. But the missing arm didn’t interest him nearly as much as the pale thing attached to that of the greener thing’s head. After a moment of it getting closer, Lou could plainly see that it was something humanoid, then believing it was an orc he side-stepped the charging creature, grabbing onto the white thing which was a leech, used his power of telekinesis to grab onto it successfully, and then pulled it off of the orc’s face. He looked at the leech and the blood which was dripping from its sharp fangs as its body tried desperately to readjust the head and bite down onto Lou’s head. He just sighed and put it in the bag he had been carrying, caring little for its attempts.
“Thank you, one-armed orc. Where did you find this thing?” He called out to the thing which had charged him just a moment before. It was by sheer luck that he found an orc which may hold the answers to where the leeches may be. Was this a gift from some unknown force feeling pity upon the Devil for such harsh punishment for a rebellion from so many years before? Or was this no more than sheer coincidence?
__Whatever had been the force behind the wholesome luck that he had been so grateful for, he didn’t honestly or dishonestly care. It was just a great convenience that he was able to be given such a thing even though he had done nothing really along the lines of good or anything you could find in a thesaurus relating to good. Okay, that was an understatement, or maybe an overstatement. He was too consumed in glee of the leech’s existence, which meant that they did in face exist in the Marsh!
__He just now started wondering about the orc and its one arm. It hadn’t lost it in the marsh since it was healed up for the most part, as in it didn’t still bleed, and that surely wasn’t the reason that the leech had latched onto it. Of course then again, it might be a sore topic, and Orc’s were infamous for their strength, even with only one arm it might not be too wise if one wanted to avoid confrontation to bring the arm up.
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Sangre Azul
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Sangre's vision suddenly cleared up quite nicely. Which was probably good because it meant that the thing trying to get to his brain was gone or Sangre was dead. But no, that made no sense Sangre couldn't be dead because dead people didn't think about the things heading towards brains at all - they rotted. Rather well. He had seen quite a few bodies in his time at the Arena. The orc congratulated himself on his well-reasoned, methodical approach to figuring the important fact that he was still alive out.

(And no, he didn't congratulate himself using either the words 'well-reasoned' or 'methodical' or even 'alive')

He turned (just in case the brain-eaty-thing was just biding its time) and spotted another... thing. Things (like the brain-eaty-one) usually didn't have legs, but this one did. It reminded him of those puffy pastries he had puzzled over when terribly, terribly young and afraid and ignor... ignor... not-knowing what a city was.

It talked:

"Thank you, one-armed orc." The orc in question blinked in bemusement. He hadn't been thanked very often, except by wee ones. He wasn't sure why, either. That cinched it. This was a thing. On the same scale of magnificence as a bottomless pocket. If bottomless pockets could take brain-eaty-things off heads and randomly thank people for no reason at all.

"Where did you find this thing?"

A thing calling a thing a thing! The orc rofled (in his head) in amusement.

"Sangre... found it... in..." he considered, still quite intoxicated. Where, now that he thought about it, had he found it? Bugger it. The witch had probably given it to him.

"In house with chicken legs."
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