Jump to content


  • Content count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

About bfc

  • Rank
    Always Hungry

Recent Profile Visitors

8,413 profile views
  1. AFV




      have a good time 

  2. bfc

    LoD II: Hail to the Kings, Baby

    Whatever was coming from the left, Schrei caught it first, and quickly tweaked her headphones to try and get a better sense of their number and location. She had a dead goblin in one hand, now, and was swinging it around with an almost casual ease, bludgeoning back the rest of the screeching fiends as they came within reach. With all the noise in the cavern, however, it was hard to get a read on what was coming down the tunnel. She could come down from above on anything that emerged into view, but nothing had, and a telepathic message brought with it signs of impatience, urgency. Her clients, it seemed, were not fond of waiting. She battered one last goblin away, then tossed the corpse aside and leaped from her perch. Without a specific enemy to target, she went for an ally instead, landing lightly on Dredge's armored shoulder and perching there like some kind of bizarre parrot. One hand flicked outwards, throwing her two tiny, transparent spheres down the tunnel from whence the larger creatures were coming, aiming them so that they'd hit the ground where the faint sounds of movement were thickest. A preemptive strike, to disrupt any ambush that Dredge might be walking into. The two orbs each contained a different spell, neither of which was the one she'd tagged the strange elf girl with back when they'd first arrived. That had been a tracker, marking its target and constantly scanning the area around her via echolocation while transmitting the information received back to Schrei. These two were a messenger and an amplifier: the former releasing a pre-recorded sequence of sounds that could only by heard by those caught in the spell's area of effect, the latter ratcheting up the volume of all sounds in its radius by a factor of three. The 'message' in this case was simple: a high-pitched shriek already loud enough to deafen unprepared targets and cause temporary loss of balance. The five or six creatures coming down the tunnel would be hit by this noise while amplified by the second orb, raising it to unbearable levels even as the effect of the original spell restricted it to their ears only. Their reactions, whether stumbles or screaming or otherwise, would likewise be amplified, pinpointing their positions for Dredge and Schrei and further confusing the targets. The vampire gestured, jabbing one hand urgently forwards. If Dredge wanted those heads, now was the time to take them.
  3. bfc

    [MT2:1] Crow vs Litalis

    Perhaps he was braver than he seemed, or perhaps her words had simply riled him up. Whatever the case, the old woman hadn't been able to scare him off, and now she had a man coming at her with renewed vigor even as her own body sang dirges of pain from the effort she'd forced it through thus far. When she found her feet, it was with a sound between a grunt and a groan. More honorable to finish things the hard way, she supposed, but if the fight carried on much longer some part of her would end up giving out. Old age might be even more of a bitch than I am... She'd have to end this quickly. He came at her with a scythe- an uncommon choice, but she'd dealt with one who used a similar weapon in the past. He struck with the handle and she twisted aside, the blow grazing her slightly as she lunged towards him, moving closer so that the blade would pass well behind her if he swung his weapon about. The scythe could be nasty at mid-range, but in close quarters it became hard to use the blade, and the crone intended to take advantage of that. Her right hand clenched, thumb and three fingers curling into her palm, the middle finger extending straight upwards. One Finger Fist style, secret technique... She swung the staff held in her left hand, but that was merely a feint, a diversion from the right arm that swung out with vicious precision, the old woman's middle knuckle hurtling towards her opponent's chin from below. What had seemed like a rude gesture was in fact a deadly martial technique, insult and injury combined into a single devastating attack: F*ckuppercut!
  4. Does the old lady have a name or does just old lady work?

  5. bfc

    MOBS tournament lobby v2

    @supernal I'm going to be traveling for the next few days, so depending on when @carrionjackal posts I might take more than three days to reply. Fight is already at 9 posts so this hopefully won't be too much of a problem, I just may be a little slow in getting to the resolution.
  6. bfc

    LoD II: Hail to the Kings, Baby

    Like a squirrel Schrei scurried, scrambling from handhold to handhold with such relentless speed that anyone watching might have feared for her life, had they not seen her survive a sword through the chest barely a minute before. The goblins who followed were no slouches themselves, but even they would have trouble keeping up. She had a head start, and while the hungry beasts were honed by instinct and evolution for this task, the vampire's movements were almost scientific in their precision, as if she knew in advance where to place her hands and feet for the best possible grip. The situation might have seemed precarious at a glance, but she was in no immediate danger. At least, until Dredge started blasting his music. Schrei suddenly paused as the noise started to ramp up, and one hand went to the mufflers over her ears. Hard, synthetic things, similar to headphones in general design, with small knobs hidden around the edges. She tweaked one, frowning down at her employer, then resumed her ascent. Still quick and confident, but not so unnervingly fast as before, and some of the goblins were catching up on her now. One reached up to grab her boot, and she swung her leg out of the way, then swung it back and smashed the creature's hand into the cavern wall. It wailed with pain, and one of its fellows shoved it aside, eager to take its place. The vampire, however, was having none of it. She dropped without warning, her foot crashing down onto the nearest goblin's skull and knocking the creature loose from the wall, sending it tumbling down to a hard landing. Schrei did not follow- at the moment of impact, she'd grabbed another handhold and held on, now swinging sideways to boot another goblin in the face and knock it into two more before hauling herself up with one arm and carrying on the way she'd been going. At last, she reached a ledge just large enough to crouch on. Here she made her stand, knocking away any goblins who came close with vicious kicks while one hand dipped inside her coat, retrieving something from within. She watched the carnage unfold down below, quietly waiting. The clients had only given one command: if they bring out any leadership, take their heads and be sure the underlings see it. Hence, she'd positioned herself with a good view of the battlefield and a clear route (albeit a dangerous one, relying partly on gravity) to any potential targets. There were other plays she could make, plays that might quickly resolve the entire situation- but this was their plan, not hers, and interfering beyond her intended role could throw the whole group off balance. Danger or no danger, the job came first.
  7. bfc

    [MT2:1] Crow vs Litalis

    Wa-pow! Right in the... er, shoulder! A solid hit, but the old woman knew it'd take another arduous assault to amply annihilate her antagonist. In the meantime, however, his bony brutes were barreling at her with blades bared, begging to be bestowed a brutal battering. Coarsely cursing her contempt at the cowardly creatures, she delivered a devastating drubbing with exceptional efficiency, first forcing one further from her with furious force, then grappling the other gaunt goon and hurling him headfirst into his henchman. Intense, implacable, and incredibly irate, the old woman jubilantly jousted the jabbering jerks with Kendo knocks and Karate kicks, leaving them lamenting their ludicrous loss as she laughed and lunged at Litalis, murmuring murderous mockery. "Only the most limp-dicked, piss-brained motherf*ckers ever need the dead to do their job for 'em. Are ye really that f*ckin' useless?" Nearing now with nary a nick on her, having offhandedly overwhelmed his odious ossuary, the crone purposefully planted her pole and quickly quelled the quarrel. Resting her rump upon the soft soil, she tiredly tried for a truce. "Beatin' up weaklings is no fun. So if yer truly nothin' more than a coward, I'll let ye surrender." Unless she'd underestimated him, he'd undertake to vamoose, verifying her victory. Still, she wondered whether he'd withdraw. She whistled xylophonically, yawned, and finally glanced over at the zany zounderkite she had for an opponent. "Or shall we go another round?"
  8. bfc

    LoD II: Hail to the Kings, Baby

    When the Lady Blackhead suddenly emerged and announced herself as an ally, Schrei didn't visibly react. The newcomer's entrance rang loud, her words intended to be heard by all, so the small vampire couldn't possibly have missed it; yet there was no instinctive turning of the head, no twitch or glance towards the unexpected noise. Just stillness, and quiet. Only when the Lady addressed her personally did Schrei turn and make eye contact. a dark and unblinking stare that lasted just a little too long. Dredge and Shugarath seemed to hold her attention more strongly, but even there her reactions remained subdued. She blinked at the cleric as he praised her with a flowery speech, then tipped her head towards him in acknowledgement, neatly sliding her knife into a hidden pocket as she did so. The warlord's offer she accepted with a simple nod before briskly moving to collect her pay. Her silence, as was becoming clear, extended to more than just killing. Making her way over to the sack of gold, she crouched down over it, like a crow pecking at carrion, the folds of her coat momentarily hiding it from view. When she rose, it was gone. She snapped her fingers twice. Loud, meant to catch people's attention and draw it towards her. With her index and middle fingers extended and pressed together, she tapped one of her ear mufflers once, apparently indicating that she'd heard something, then pointed down the smallest tunnel, the one with the glowing mushrooms. Once she was sure at least one of them had gotten her message, she walked up to one of the cavern walls and started climbing, pale fingers nimbly gripping tiny cracks and ledges, creeping up higher and higher. Seeking vantage points, perhaps, or preparing an ambush from above.
  9. bfc

    [MT2:1] Crow vs Litalis

    The old woman snorted, eyes narrowing with amusement. "So ye admit it, then? That yer a ninny?" She grinned. "Better'n most. But if you think being old's any excuse, then yer a gutless milksop to boot!" One finger jabbed out at him, scolding. "It's us wrinkly f*cks who got to be the wise ones! Our responsibility to show the damn kiddos how it's done-" She stopped, sniffing at the air just as the ground began to bubble with blight, then staring at Litalis with a look of disgust. "Odin's balls, was that you? If yer gonna fart that hard, at least warn me..." With the grass dying, however, it was clear that whatever the man had done was bad news, and that the vines would not hold him for long. Without further hesitation, the old woman leaped into the air, soaring over the dying ground. "WATAAAW!" Her leg snapped out, a flying kick driving towards her opponent's chin before he could fully break free of her bindings. Rather than worry about the bony minions emerging from the ground, she was going straight for the main target.
  10. bfc

    LoD II: Hail to the Kings, Baby

    Twelve mercenaries in all. Eleven, thanks to Dredge, but those still weren't good odds. Every one of them was ruthless, every one of them was greedy, but they all knew they had little chance of surviving a battle to the death with ten highly skilled opponents, all of whom were likely packing nasty hidden tricks up their sleeves. That was why the murderous demonstration had been required: to convince them all they had no other option. It drove the point home. Fight, or die. Except there was one among them who'd never needed any convincing. Schrei had been at the rear from the beginning, a very deliberately chosen position that none of the others had dared contest. She'd walked slowly and silently, but now it became clear that she could also move very fast and silently, and knew how to make good use of a distraction. Like Dredge, she didn't hesitate. By the time he'd spoken the word 'pay,' she was already moving. By the time he'd reached the word 'boys,' she was behind one of the other mercenaries with a long knife in hand. By 'kill,' the man was dead. To those who could see her- Dredge, probably, and the other two clients -it would appear almost ghostly, unreal. Her victim screamed, but nothing came out. His body crashed to the ground, but there was no noise. The other mercenaries stood oblivious, all eyes on the gold, on Dredge. Some already had their weapons out, listening to their client's brutal commands with a growing sense of dread, but none of them were aware of what had just transpired behind them. And why should they be? It was an instinct, an unconscious expectation, that if something was going on where their eyes weren't looking there'd be at least some sign of it, some faint noise that would draw their attention. But there was absolutely nothing. She targeted the stragglers, the men at the back, the ones standing where the others wouldn't be able to see them out the corners of their eyes. Approach from behind, stab, move on. It took about three seconds each time, her knife sliding in and out through joints in armor, targeting vital points and killing her targets before they even registered what was happening. The brutal process played out in utter silence, all the way through Dredge's warning and his demonstration. Only then, convinced they had no other option, did the other mercenaries turn, already in wordless agreement that they should target the one with the most fearsome reputation- -and there she was, walking calmly towards them, four bodies already splayed out behind her. That left six, Schrei included. The sight shocked the other men, a couple of them backing away in sudden fright. With their unity momentarily broken, she rushed the closest one, knife in hand. The man had a rapier out, and shifted into a dueling stance, his fear and surprise instantly quashed by honed instincts and battlefield experience. As Schrei came into range, he struck out with lightning speed, his blade whistling through the air towards her chest. It rammed straight through her and out the other side, painted dark red. Schrei coughed. Schrei sputtered. And then she collapsed, knees buckling beneath her, tumbling to the ground as the duelist withdrew his sword. For a moment, everyone fell silent, stunned by the outcome, the man with the rapier stared down at Schrei's body as if unable to believe what he'd accomplished- -and then a throwing axe took him in the back of the head, cleaving his skull in half. With the primary threat gone, the remaining mercenaries wasted no time at all in turning on one another. The one who'd thrown the axe hurled another at a big bearded brute, who blocked it with a shield and charged at him, roaring. Another, one of those who'd backed off after seeing Schrei, now swept his cloak aside to reveal the small hand crossbow he'd hidden beneath it, and took aim at a seemingly unarmed opponent, only to be blasted back and electrocuted by a surge of crackling lightning. His killer, hands now alight with electricity, swung towards the big bearded man. The latter had just bashed his opponent with his shield and knocked him to the ground, and wheeled about just in time to catch a lightning blast with his shield. Roaring, he charged. The lightning user backed away, flinging bolt after bolt, but his opponent was too large, too fast, too well protected. The bearded brute slammed into the mage and knocked him down, finishing the job by staving the smaller man's head in with a spiked mace as he tried to roll aside. At last, the sounds of combat died down. The bearded man stood tall, panting and covered in blood, surveying the bodies strewn all over the cave. "I've... I've won!" He turned back to Dredge, filled now with the thrill of victory. "I'VE WO-" Then his head was wrenched backwards, exposing his neck, and Schrei leaned over his shoulder and tore into his throat with her teeth. For a moment they stayed that way, her holding him up from behind as his hands went slack and his weapons clattered to the ground, his eyes slowly rolling back into his head as she shifted her jaws, latching on more firmly. Her throat pulsed, hungrily gulping down mouthful after mouthful of blood, until the man started to go pale and she tossed him aside, wiping her lips with the back of one hand. A moment later, she spat out the front of his neck. There was a small hole in her torso where the sword had pierced right through her, but it didn't seem to bother Schrei at all. Silent as ever, she padded over to one of the fallen bodies, which suddenly perked up as she drew near and tried to crawl away. "Please! No! NO!" Someone had apparently had the same idea as her: faking death, letting the others wipe each other out before rising up again to ambush the victor from behind. Difference was, this man hadn't let himself be injured deliberately, instead improvising the plan after he'd been knocked down by the one she'd just killed. That, and the new victor wasn't such a fool. She stomped down on his head, hard enough that the sound reverberated through the cave entrance, hard enough that his skull practically exploded beneath her boot, bone and brains scattering far and wide across the stony floor. Ten skilled warriors dead- and she hadn't had to fight a single one of them. She looked back up at the clients, expressionless. Not the strongest, like Dredge had asked for, but unquestionably the most lethal. Their league already included monsters and tyrants, warriors and conquerors, but now it had something new. Now, they had themselves a killer.
  11. It was chaos. Government could be a challenge at the best of times, strict rules and systems straining to contain the power-hungry factions clawing at each other’s throats. Fae government, if it were possible, could be described as even worse. Trying to get the flighty and capricious beings to work together under any kind of system was like herding cats- practically impossible without a sufficient driving force. Not only were the various sprites and fairies just as varied in their ideologies and as vicious in their attempts to enforce them as any other sentient race, their kind was also known for being unpredictable, for toying with the lives of others. Of those coming to the council, at least a third would be there for the sheer fun of it, with the express purpose of making proceedings as lively and disorderly as possible. Not that they needed to help much in that regard. Simply having so many Fae in one place was a logistical nightmare in and of itself. A boiling throng of wild and tricky creatures, counting among their number hundreds of different shapes and sizes and colors: from tiny flittering pixies to eight-foot-tall dryads, from the icily refined courts of the eastern forest who stood sharply dressed in the gaudiest of fashions to their hairy, naked, and wine-stained counterparts from the west. Shouts, hisses, loud songs and beautiful music dominated the air. Some groups met one another with tears of joy and happy embraces, others with bared fangs and drawn weapons. The rules forbade fighting here, but who would enforce them if a war broke out? Indeed: who could enforce anything upon this mad throng? There would be no democracy here. While the majority bickered and danced and laughed away the night, it was the powerful ones who moved towards the gathering stone. The representatives of the major courts, those few Fae wise and respected enough to be granted passage by the rabble, and the ones so strong and dangerous that none dared stand in their way. At the center of all the turmoil, they formed a small circle around the old stone slab. Old Tonn, brown and shriveled and smelling of rotten fruit, was first to speak. “Our… reasons… for calling… Council… are not clear.” His voice was the sound of dust being brushed off a canvas left for years in an attic. “There… is indeed… much to…” He was interrupted by the lord of one of the western courts, who put down his wine just long enough to shout the old creature down. “Clam it, you wrinkly fart!” A less drunken and better-dressed lady cut in, elaborating in crisp, precise tones. “Yes, we don’t have time for delay or ceremony. The issue at hand is clear…” she paused dramatically. “Foreigners have been trespassing on our woods, with the vilest of intentions!” Cracklebranch crackled his branches, the Owl’s wings fluttered, and all around the circle others grunted their assent or mumbled in outrage. Feris, who’d barely managed to edge her way into the central gathering, tried to speak up. “Wait, that’s not why I’m here. I called the council to-“ A ground-dweller, short and stout and covered entirely in black fur but for his pointy pink ears, was already speaking over her. “I saw them. Vermin, in the lower reaches! Hiding in deep burrows, gnawing and cutting away at our roots…” He shivered. “Friends, please. There can only be one solution here. We must unite, dig them out, exterminate them like the pests they are!” This got the biggest reaction yet. There were clapping hands, cheers, even a hungry roar of agreement from Toadskinned- but others raised their voices in protest, in complaint. Why should they have to care what happened to the ground-dwellers? What need was there to unite? Surely any courts or clans harassed by pests could deal with the minor threat themselves, and if they couldn’t, why- if they were so weak then maybe they deserved to be harassed! Feris tried again to speak up, but by now counter-arguments were flying back and forth, sprinkled liberally with insults and veiled threats. The Fae, it seemed, were just as likely to go to war with one another as with these mysterious invaders, and any chance of discussing what Feris had called them here to discuss, of making decisions that might actually change something, seemed lost to the winds. Until something began to stir. Not among the circle of the powerful, or even among the rival courts, who still spat and glared but hesitated to try and draw blood. No, this disturbance came from the very outer edge of the huge gathering, to the north. There, moving for the first time as a single unit, the various Fae were turning, starting in surprise. Then kneeling, heads bowed. At first, none in the center circle noticed, so consumed were they by their petty feuds. As the change spread, however, and the great rabble slowly fell quieter and quieter, even the mighty were forced to take noticed. Around the stone, the arguments faded away, momentarily forgotten as heads turned and took in the waves now passing across the great gathering, waves of Fae of every different shape and size and color, all taking a knee as one. “It’s him!” It was a whisper, as quiet with disbelief as it was filled with awe. Others followed, each one more frantic than the last. “He’s here!” “The King!” “The Faerie King is here!”
  12. bfc

    LoD II: Hail to the Kings, Baby

    Something had the mercenaries on edge. They didn't make it obvious, of course. Soldiers of fortune are tough bastards in general, and these ones were harder than most. Big and hairy and armed to the teeth, faces painted with black ink and blacker scowls, they showed no sign of fear at first glance, marching on after their vile clients without a moment's hesitation. Still- there was something in their posture, each one standing a little too stiff. Something in the way they looked about, sneaking stealthy glances of their shoulders. Something in the way they stood apart from one another, and especially from one in particular. It might have been the caves that had them spooked, but these were mercenary men. They made a living fighting in the worst places in the world, and many had charged into hellholes even scarier than this one for the sake of a day's pay. It might have been their clients, the band of gods and monsters who paid their fee, but these were mercenary men, and they'd all worked for dangerous, unscrupulous clients before. Horrible and deadly though it seemed, this was just another job to them. What had them spooked, in reality, was one among their own number. Ask any of those sell-swords who the blackest heart among them was, and they'd quietly point to the one at the back. The one who stood shorter than the rest and was distinctly female, with hair long and black and skin deathly pale, wearing no armor but a dark grey coat and a pair of mufflers over her ears. That's Toma Schrei, they'd whisper. She'll rip your throat out for a half-penny. With her teeth. She stayed to the rear, following Dredge and the rest of the hired hands deep into the cave. Slow, steady, and utterly silent in her movements. However, as Mayumi drifted off down another tunnel, Schrei's head turned just slightly, and she lazily swung a pale hand, tossing a small and translucent something after the elf. It shattered against Mayumi's back- though it was likely as not that she'd barely even feel it. The impact was no harder than being splashed by a few drops of water, and if perchance she did notice and look back, the pale mercenary's hand would already have vanished back into her coat, its owner giving no sign she'd even seen the elf leave.
  13. bfc

    A New World To Burn (Public Thread)

    "Whoop!" Some people, out of the goodness of their hearts, will assist old ladies in crossing the road. These are the kind ones, those souls who everyday strive to make the world a better place. Then there are the indifferent, the faceless pedestrians who brush past the struggling crones without so much as a glance. These are less kind, but still, there is little harm done. Only then, there are the unkind, the truly mean, those filled with enough spite and resentment to shove a grandma aside as they pass, or mock her slow progress. They are a blight upon the world, their everyday hatred making reality just that little bit darker. And then there are the motherfuckers who shoot blazing pillars of fire at old women trying to land. They're just fucking assholes. The daring crone swung her body to one side as the demonic flame came blasting at her, barely avoiding being burned. Her leaf-parachute proved less lucky, the spell punching a heavy wound in its surface and sending both plant and woman into a tumble. They crashed down together, and the clawed minion below was able to land a strike, leaving a series of deep gashes on the old lady's forearm. She was back on her feet in a flash, however, and quickly turning the tables. "Yah! Yah! AATATATA!" It was barely even a fight. "Whatsamatter, you blubbering pansy? Can't take a f*ckin' hit?" The old woman struck again- but this time, the tip of her staff burst out into a mass of tangling vines, wrapping around the poor creature and ensnaring it tightly. "Coward!" She stormed around the defeated minion, only to stop short as a little girl came flying towards her. "Oh fer Gaia's sake..." More vines lashed forth, catching the girl just before a lance of flame burst through her, the mutated woman, and the crone all in a row, three innocents from three generations killed in a single stroke- Or at least, that was what was supposed to happen. What actually occurred was far less tragic: the pillar of fire deflected off the vines surrounding the little girl, sparing all three from being burned. As the young one was lowered safely to the ground, the old woman let out a sigh. "...did you really think I'd fall for that? Damn trick's older than I am." She turned her staff around, pointing the end that hadn't sprouted vines at the undead cleric, but he was already fleeing like that coward he was. "Fine, f*ck off then. I don't have time for dickwits like you anyway." She'd won, in a sense. Given them an ass-whupping, sent them running for the hills. The armored giant thing was still around, but the big stranger who'd come down from the sky seemed to be dealing with him pretty handily. Yet as she looked about, at the ruined village and the blackened corpses and the raging fires, she couldn't help but feel that something had been lost. Just like it was the time before, and before that, and before that, all the way back to the day you slew the beast at the harbor. You stand victorious, and turn around to see that the world has burned down as you fought. "Pah!" She spat, angrily, at the ground. Then jabbed her staff into the earth, planting it once more, firm and deep as she could manage. "Come on, you silly ol' shrub. One more time." Blood dripped from her arm, and she breathed heavily. "One. More. Time." The stick swelled, then surged upwards at an angle, swelling once more into a massive trunk. This time however, rather than sprout branches, it simply kept going, curving as it rose, growing over the ring of fire around the village and all the way down on the other side. A living bridge, a path of escape. "OY, MILKSOPS! No more standin' around! Either throw yerselves into the fire, or hurry the f*ck on over!" What few survivors remained went sprinting off over the wooden bridge, the crone trundling wearily after them. As the fiery circle finally closed and two godlike giants battled it out over the hellscape that remained, the mortals fled- one clutching a tiny twig in her wrinkled hand, and cursing all the way.
  14. bfc

    [MT2:1] Crow vs Litalis

    The staff snapped back to its original length once the blow was struck, and the old woman snickered. Nothing like a good spot of unnecessary violence to get one's spirits up! She leaned on her stick as Litalis righted himself, content to let him retrieve his weapon and cautiously approach without harassment- at least, of the physical sort. Verbally, she was still as vulgar as ever. "The f*ck is this? Don't kids know how to move in a straight f*ckin' line these days? Or is it just that yer an arseclown?" She pointed at him with one finger, tracking his zig-zagging movements. "Look! I'm bein' attacked by a yo-yo!" When he finally drew close, she hopped quickly backwards, pulling her staff out of range of his short blade while jabbing it downwards at the shadowy threads he'd sent towards her. "Shoo! Shoo!" Wherever she struck, the darkness recoiled. Whatever her stick's true nature, it was anathema to his magic, able to beat back Litalis's shadows as if they were physical objects. "Farther than yours!" she cackled, keeping one end of the staff pointed downwards to fend off any further shadow attacks. The upper end, meanwhile, had sprouted a fat green bulb that was steadily swelling, larger and larger. "Though that's not sayin' much!" With that last word, the bulb burst open, releasing a swarm of leafy vines that lashed towards Litalis with the aim of wrapping around his arms and legs- entangling him in their grasp, and anchoring him firmly in one place.
  15. bfc

    A New World To Burn (Public Thread)

    "Doggone it..." the old woman muttered to herself as the flaming Feurerkönig tore apart its bindings with ease. Why did it have to be fire? Her poor stick didn't take well to such rough treatment- already she could hear a deep groaning in the huge tree's trunk, a wail of pain for its decimated roots. Scowling, the crone snapped her head around to shout more obscenities at the armored brute, but was interrupted as a pillar of flame blasted at her from elsewhere, forcing her to leap to another branch just in time to avoid being burned to a crisp. Great, now they were both using fire. "Damn punks," she roared back at them, "GET OFF MY TREE!" Alas, the great plant was almost completely on fire, now, cracking and withering before the blazing assault. Hopping onto a thicker branch, the old woman grabbed a small twig, snapped it off, and leaped into the air. Behind her, the tree sagged, as if all the life had suddenly gone out of it. In her hands, however, the tiny twig she'd pulled off suddenly blossomed into a massive leaf, which caught the wind and pulled her into a smooth glide. Hanging onto it with one arm, she flipped the bird at the Feurer with the other. "Catch me if you can, fatso!" What happened next, however, caught them all by surprise. Another player, the biggest yet, slammed down onto the field from the skies above, causing a minor earthquake with the force of his landing. The old crone's eyes nearly boggled out of her head. For the first time that day, she actually looked worried. Had this titan come to team up with the others? Fighting two powerful opponents at once was doable, if tricky, but three would be pushing it... The newcomer didn't come after her, however. No, he went straight for the huge armored fucker, practically offering to beat him up for her. The old woman grinned, and shot the bald giant a thumbs-up in response. "Kick 'im in the balls!" She landed on both feet, her leaf-glider snapping back into the shape of a quarterstaff, as she turned her attentions back towards the undead cleric. "Just you and me now, you pasty pissgargler." She plodded towards him, hefting her stick. Shugarath wasn't one to fight fair, however. Before she could stave his skull in, he'd send some monstrous mutation charging after her, a horrific mockery of a woman armed with sharp teeth and claws. The crone snorted with disdain- the fucker should have known better than to think a mere minion could take her down -but leaped forwards to meet the monster anyway. "WATAAAAAAAW!" Her staff jabbed out with lightning speed and impeccable accuracy, a storm of blows targeting the nose, eyes, liver, knees, and solar plexus. Wherever openings presented themselves, the stick was there, and with the weapon in her hands she could strike the mutant freely from outside the range of its claws, hopping about on agile feet to keep it from getting too close. No need for trees here; her martial arts moves would be more than enough!