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Claiming the Furthest Point

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Closing round


As soon as the wagon fell, the Chhitten scurried away from the defenders as one unit, heading for the numerous cracks in the Broken Plains. Two of them fell to Charlie and the horror-struck Soryn, but the rest vanished faster than the defenders could give chase. This was their habitat, and their familiarity with the environment could not be matched.

Fidelitas surveyed the damage, then pressed his lips together into a thin line. With two wagons down, half of the resources that they had planned to move to the hill would either be delayed as they were forced to make a double trip. There was also a significant chance that the items that they would be forced to leave behind with the broken wagons would be stolen or further damaged by the prowling creatures of Yh'mi. He had to make a decision whether to turn back to Inns'th, or press on to the Furthest Point with the remaining resources. There was also the matter of the casualties and the injured. The greatest damage had been done by the Twistlings, whose cunning and disguises made them the most terrifying of Yh'mi's creatures. It was never easy to deal with deaths, but despite the failure to protect the two wagons, the group had held up relatively well. A lesser team could have been wiped out by now.

However, that did not preclude idiocy among the defenders. Fidelitas shouted at Charlie when he sent a fireball spiraling into one of the entrances to the massive labyrinth of caverns that lay below the Broken Plains. The admonishment came too late, the wave of insectile creatures surging out of the crevices towards the man. It was despicable that he would direct the heavily-injured Murray towards the incoming swarm, essentially leaving him behind as bait. The paladin rushed forward, sword by the ready, and rammed into the swarm like a tank, hacking and slashing the creatures apart. His sword hummed with energy, and the aura of the Gaia-blessed sword was visible as a faint white glow enveloping the blade. He cut a path through to stand by Murray's side, protecting him from the creatures. These Chhitten were not nearly the same as the ones that had attacked the wagons. Their movements were chaotic, and the moment they sensed the divine power radiating from the paladin's blade, they turned tail and skittered back underground.

After a few moments of making sure that they were not going to resurface, Fidelitas turned to Murray and patted him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry for the loss of your men. And it pains me to say this, but we have to leave their bodies behind. Whatever that we can carry, even by hand, we have to bring them to the Furthest Point." The paladin's tone was not entirely devoid of emotion, but it was hardened with practicality. "I will perform the rites for them, give them a proper send off. The most we can do is to cover their bodies with rocks, in the hopes that the creatures don't get to them." It was a slim hope, and it was more than likely that their flesh would be picked clean by vile creatures in this forsaken land where fresh meat was rare. But he would pray for the men's souls to be embraced by the goddess, so that they could leave their mortal shells behind in peace.

He handed bandages and medical supplies over to the nearest able persons. "Help to patch this guy up quickly, and also help the rest of the injured. We are all pressing onwards to the Furthest Point." They were closer to their destination than they were to Inns'th. The journey back didn't hold any less danger than moving onwards, and going back would render whatever distance they had covered thus far moot. Those deaths would have been for nothing. The greatest concern he had was that he had to bring the injured along with him, since they couldn't possibly make it back to Inns'th by themselves alive. At least he took relief in that Yh'mi may have won this round, but the defenders had dealt them a heavy blow as well by taking down a Chhitten Magnus. Those gargantuan creatures were rare, and Fidelitas predicted that this particular victory would keep Yh'mi's monsters off their backs for a short while. They only had to hold out until the next wave of fighters salvaged whatever they could from the two broken wagons and joined them at the hill. He raised his voice to address the group.

"We will take a short breather here, then move on to the Furthest Point with our remaining supplies. There, on the hill, we can make a better stand against our enemies with whatever we have left. The deaths of our brethren will not be in vain. We will show this blasted land our tremendous tenacity and resolve!" He gestured to the Chhitten Magnus so that everyone saw the steel equipment that had spilled out from it. "The enemy has spilled items that had been taken away from brave warriors. Take what may help you, just don't bog yourself down with the weight of too much, or you'll only be endangering yourself. We aim to reach the hill by sundown."

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Challara was furious! The group that had hired them, the Order of the White Hand, would doubtlessly blame the group for this failure, despite either knowing nothing, or doing nothing about who or what is clearly organizing these creatures so seamlessly and effectively. In fact, many of the missions she went on were to break or disrupt such organization ahead of a large offensive. Shit like this will only keep happening if nobody does anything to disrupt this clear organization.

As if to punctuate her point, a bunch of unorganized chhitten burst from the ground after Charlie's last fireball. Challara tosses grenades and opens up with bursts of automatic fire to kill as many of the fuckers as she can, even firing into the tunnels they crawl back into before turning back to the pile of supplies, picking up averything she can possibly carry, prioritizing her own ammo and grenades.

Tonight, after she comes back from her second or third trip, she'll definitely have something to say to Fidelitas about his competence and the competence of the Order of the White hand, and it will be neither kind nor complementary.

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Un. Believable. The trip ended in failure, despite the boss being taken down.
See, this is why I fucking HATE escort missions.

True enough, Dan couldn't stand those. In gaming or in real life. In addition to hating them, he was also not the best at them in the first place. He had thought that his incredible monster slayer skills would be enough to offset it, but it appeared he was incorrect.

Seeing shinies inside the chitten magnus, he went up to it. To his mild disappointment, it was only steel armor and weaponry. He took a piece of steel chest armor, not because he planned to use it- Very few things could even land a hit on him in the first place, and he had an amulet of armor making him resistant to physical damage- but because he was going to get SOMETHING out of this.

Two small scale Chitten decided to try to intimidate him, and slithered in front of him and made their annoying sounds, attempting to look bigger to frighten their prey. Two on one, AND they were using intimidation. Surely they would be able to eat this skinny creature.

Dan didn't so much as show a facial reaction. What he did do was grip his sword hilt, and begin to draw it.
In a literal blink of an eye, Dan was on the other side of them. He finished sheathing his sword that final centimeter, and continued walking. Behind him, the chitten fell apart into four pieces apiece before they knew what happened.

And just as anime as he can manage, everybody.

Edited by HollowCipher

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"Wut, you dink you can just run away from me and wreck our shit, huh?" Cap Guy started stalking toward the last twistling, patting his club in his hand, "Com'n, bring it!"

The twistling hopped off the wagon eyeing the bold young man in curiosity. Most humans were afraid, and even those who didn't usually didn't show such provocative bravado, especially not against an enemy that was far faster than the average man could hope to be.

"Yeah, I'm talkin' tuh you!" 

The twistling cocked its head to the side, beginning to stalk forward to meet its challenger. But then, it caught movement out of the corner of its eye. Then, it caught a bullet in the corner of its eye. Challara's burst caught the twistling off-guard, a couple of the rounds slicing through its flesh and drawing forth the monster's putrid blood, but not being enough to severely wound it. However, one of the rounds hit a far more sensitive mark, striking the left eye at an angle, shredding the organ and punching a hole out the side of its skull, near the temple area. The angle was such that the trajectory missed the twistling's brain entirely, but the injury was still significant.

Wailing in pain, deceiver halted its advance toward the cap guy, instead pivoting around and following the retreating chhittens. Cap guy wasn't fast enough to pursue, and though several of the remaining defenders may have tried to take it down as it fled, it managed to avoid all the attacks and disappear over a ridge. But it was marked now, if it managed to survive the blood loss from its wound.

[exit: Twistling #3 "Deceiver"]

"Hey! I had 'em!" cap guy snapped in the mercenary woman's direction.

It was then that he happened to turn and see Murray on the ground, barely conscious, trying to fight off a pack of chhittens that the fire merc accidentally aggro'd. 

"Dun worry, boss! I'm com'n!"

Fidelitas arrived first, quickly cutting through several of the bugs like he'd done it a million times before. Cap guy arrived in time to smash one of them with his club, but the swarm was already fleeing from the holy knight. Of course, cap guy didn't realize it was the knight's aura they were afraid, instead thinking it was his timely arrival.

"That's what I'm talkin' 'bout! Yeah, dey know not to mess wit' me!" he puffed out his chest, before approaching Murray, "Hey boss! You okay?"

"Deckel? How the hell are you alive? I saw you... I saw you die..." Murray wheezed.

"Huh-hey! I'm just dat awesome!" cap guy, AKA Deckel, responded braggadociously.

"That... or... I'm already... dead..." Murray slumped over in exhaustion, losing consciousness almost immediately as his head hit the dirt.

"Boss? Hey boss?! Oh fuck... MEDIC! MEDIC!" Deckel called out for help, at about the same time as Fidelitas was. 

Murray would probably pull through, but he had lost plenty of blood thanks to the gaping gash in his chest, so he'd probably need some time to recover. In the meantime, Private Scott "Scoot" Deckel would be the lone surviving representative of the Norkotian squad, and even he wasn't a survivor in a certain sense. Not that he was really smart enough to even realize that...

[exit: Murray & SQUAAAAAD]

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It stopped?

It really did. Thoughts as to why could wait. The fight was still ongoing. But the flow of battle? Yeah, a massive reversal had just occurred and the utter beatdown the creatures of Yh'mi were receiving in retaliation for thier acts of vandalism were slowly exceeding plausibility. Heh. Didn't leave much for a guy like him to do.

Ed shrugged off the familiar sunburst of pain as his wounds abruptly closed. His shadow certainly wasn't showing any wounds and it wasn't that much of a stretch to inflict that condition to his physical body. It still hurt, pain was the body's way of noticing something was wrong and such an act certainly qualified. That was magic for you. Shadow might not have a true healing ability, but it could treat most flesh wounds like a dislocated shoulder.

"MEDIC" @Tyler

Ah right. The lemmings.... Ah right, don't pull a Priscilla and actually call them lemmings. Even if they were.

As Ed made his way over to Deckel and Murray a grand total of two chittan made a bid to bite him. The second of them displaying nothing short of the typical full insanity of the creatures of Yh'mi. Mostly because it still came after him after he'd punted the first one. Shadow was pretty good at moving things and it did his heart good to see them stay punted and not come tearing back.

"I guess I'm the medic. Look on the bright side, you Nortos never got the chance to be spoiled by healing magic in your deficit homeland. So the fact that this isn't gives ya something to look forward to next time you fuck up. Evey have a dislocated arm? Well the thing about"

PAIN. It wasn't true healing magic, so unless Ed simply wanted to collapse Murray's torso and call it a day he needed to get a feel for the proper end result hence half the reason for the excessive talking. The other half was that as required as the end result was, the process sucked. In Murray's case, the dislocated arm being shifted back into place was his chest.

"Pain is that it's the body's way of saying what the literal fuck is this. Now as for your medical bill, I'll put you down for bringing three less sleepers to your next nature walk with an outpatient prescription of please don't give the monsters guns."

Really. Guns were useful but they were just as bad as giving a violent idiot magic. Disagree? Well there's a poster child called Dredge out there. They'd pulled ahead today, but if they'd had less dumb luck and more monsters had arrived during the suppression... 

If they kept half assing this campaign, then Ed would have no choice but to pack up and leave. Because there was no way they'd get underestimated again and if they performed as well as they did today, everyone would be killed to the last man. No exceptions.

I am alive today because we were underestimated... And we almost squandered that. Ed wouldn't be surprised if he looked as depressed as he felt.

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Vlad watched. Ignored by the assailants and the defenders, he stood near the broken wagon, unconsciously sliding his finger through the spear's cracks. He watched not for the insects crawling back into the misty nothingness they came from. He watched not for people chasing after them. He watched for it.

His bleak eyes were gazing thoroughly upon the twisted ranger. He memorized the mark people of Terrenus had left on it - a shattered left eye, covered in blood. He watched at the creature itself, which was limping away and leaving a thick red trail. Vlad was certain - in any condition, in any circumstance he would recognize this abomination. His hand trembled, gripping the spear's shaft with full force...

Seven bullets. Seven scars. Seven debts. That's how it is. And that's how it will be... until I settle the score with this son of a--

And with that trailing thought in mind, Vlad had completely regained his senses... from whatever it was.

The atmosphere of tension and struggle had begun to die out. The defenders started to cut their losses, gather the injured ones and dig through whatever was left of the gigantic insect. Situation seemed quite grim: half of their resources had been wrecked, most of the people were harmed in various ways and the entire squad of mercenaries had bitten the dust - except for its captain and that one lucky drunkard in a cap. However, the expedition captain, much to someone's dismay, had not ordered to turn back toward the relative safety, but to march forward.

Vlad silently accepted this order with no visible enthusiasm. One part of him felt like it had been already fed up with unraveling mysteries of Yh'mi and searching for Spires and/or Philosopher Stone's source. He got sliced, he got bitten, he had a wild trip on that bug's saliva... Vlad lowered his head- oh, and his jacket was a toast. Then he noticed several people pulling from the giant's insides everything it hadn't digested yet - steel garments included. The engineer admitted he was unlikely to carry any of those armor sets, but any foul-smelling chain mail would be a lot better, than a torn jacket... that happened to be a bit too holey since he began this hell of a trip.

Vlad walked toward the heap consisted of salvaged armor pieces and picked up a chain mail that looked more or less unaffected by stomach acid. He dropped off his jacket... and stopped in shock. His dusty white shirt was crimson red and full of holes as well -seven bullets-. Across the chest there were several growths sticking out of these holes. Vlad touched one of them - hard and cold, just like the walls of Tian Spire... A sweat appeared on Vlad's forehead.

He counted up all the growths - three, four, five, six... seven. Seven scars. Seven bullets. Seven scars...

Something resonated in Vlad's mind. Something he struggled to remember. But he couldn't. His own brain was concealing it from him. The more he tried to recall, the more questions arose, confusing him even more. Why do my jacket looks like Ignatz Cheese? Where did all this blood come from? Why is my chest, my stomach, my leg - all of it is covered in onyx? Why can't I...

And then it came. The revelation. A moment of clarity. Vlad remembered what was holding him here, in this place, together with this expedition. He knew he had a few chances to make it back to Inn'sth without being condemned as a deserter. And yet, there was the question that needed to be answered. Its answer lied somewhere behind the ridge. The answer would explain it all. But what was the question, one might ask? Simple, the past Vlad would say, the question is this...

"Did anybody see my pistol? I can't find it!" - yelled the present Vlad. A moment had been lost, a true question had been forgotten for now... And yet, grieving on his weapon's loss, he felt through his subconsciousness with all the growing terror on his spine...

This land would not let him go. Or rather, it was him that would not let it go...



Edited by P.N.See

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As the battle died down and things started to calm on the battlefield, Aryssin looked around. Having spent some time nursing that broken rib of hers, she stood up gingerly, holding the once broken rib in case there was still some pain left. Finding out that there was none, she straightened up, surveying the battle scars that had been left on the plain. The sturdy wooden carts had broken down, and Aryssin could not help but wonder if she had been part of the cause; after all she had spent some time hiding in one, and that might have called attention to it. Thinking for a bit Aryssin shook her head; there was no attack on the carts while she was in them, therefore no blame could be afforded her. 

Walking to the hulking beast that had caused her so much hurt, she kicked its head as though trying to see if the creature was truly dead (if it was not she would stab it repeatedly with her sword till no more head could be seen). Satisfied that the Magnus was well and truly dead, the ex-assassin followed the trail of the creature's body downward, noticing that there was a massive opening in the creature. Curious as to what the Chhitten looked on the inside, Aryssin slowly walked toward the wound, the smell of the innards hitting her like an anvil. As providence would have it, she noticed a glint in the leftover sunlight; a glint of metal that shone off something shiny within all that ichor. Picking up a stick, Aryssin poked and prodded at the glint until it revealed a small handle, silver and gleaming with little to no tarnish. Upon closer inspection, she noticed an emblem on the lower crossguard: a Lefellian coat of arms. This one was emblazoned in rose gold; it was a dagger once owned by a member of the Lefellian Royal Guard. Quickly tugging it out of the fell creature's innards, Aryssin wiped the dagger on her cloak, ridding it of all the stains that was upon its blade. "Still sharp," she thought, noticing a few threads on her cloak had split just by gently brushing the dagger on it. She expected it to be too, as Lefellian blades were renowned for their incredibly sharp blades. 

"Poor bastard, to die so far from home," she thought to herself, slipping the blade into her belt. "Wonder what they were doing here though." Her mind began to wander, and soon stuck itself on one possible reason: to bring Miss Silvergrove back to Lefel. That would have been a good reason to venture so far, to look for the princess. "Well, too late boys, she's off," she muttered to no one in particular as she began walking off the field to join the others.

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Pain. Pain washed all over the body of the body of the dark knight, and he drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness. It had been some time since he had experienced pain of this caliber. The ever-vigilant Eri, although wounded herself, watched over him and slowly, oh so slowly, grasped his armor in her teeth and began to drag him back towards the other defenders. Gormaric's mind floated between thoughts and memories aimlessly. In the dark depths of his mind, his memories and identity mixed with those of Neque...

Seven beams of light struck his body. A great agony spread over him as the spells tore apart his body and shattered his soul. Then, there was nothing, nothing but the vaguest sense of consciousness... and a small, black flame of pure, burning rage and vengeance.

A body impacted against the bottom of the black abyss. Broken, broken, broken. Yet, the faintest vestiges of life... Unsuitable as a vessel, but as a servant... no, a friend, a companion, that would one day bring him back to life...

Blood and fire... The Inanis consumed all, only to be consumed itself... Now̴̞̝͊͝     KI̴͇̖̍̈Ḷ̴̱͗͝L                Ordé̶̪͚̋r̶̛͚̫͂  ̵͖̫̓͝                          MU̸͈̓̀S̴̾͑T.   

Something about this last set of memories jarred Gormaric into consciousness. That was not Neque... those had to be the memories of Remissio, extracted by Neque at great cost during the corrupted paladin's assault on Inns'th. The Order... the Order was not his enemy. In fact, they had been surprisingly pleasant to the dark knight overall. Then again... saving the lives of a group of people during their darkest hour tended to have a rather positive impact on one's relationship with them. And his efforts in repairing the wall's breach surely were appreciated as well. A slight smile broke through the pain, and the dark knight extended his senses, once again being immersed in the familiar, comforting power of the Inanis. The dark power washed over Gormaric's body, small tendrils sewing shut the most grievous of his wounds, and allowing enough strength to return for him to raise himself off of the ground and begin to walk. His foot hit against something in the guts of the Magnus that had fallen all around him. Leaning down to pull it out and then wipe it off, he saw a steel shield, not the greatest quality he had ever seen, but one sturdy enough to ward off blows. He slung it over his back, and then he leaned into Eri ever so slightly for support as he took stock of the situation. Two wagons down... the loss of supplies would assuredly hurt them. Those monsters had attacked in an all too orchestrated manner, guided by the fell wind... or more precisely, the entity behind the fell wind.  A concentrated push by the mercenaries in Inns'th, the Order, and those forces from the likes of Aligoria could perhaps be enough power to destroy that entity, if anybody in this forsaken land even knew what it was, really. But in the current situation, it was obvious that the loss of the wagons was the fault of the defenders. When he killed the Magnus, the defenders of the left side should have flooded over to the right side, to kill the monsters there before the second wagon could be felled. But so many of them had been too slow to action, or even wasted attacks, power, on time on the Magnus when Gormaric so seemingly obviously had had it taken care of. And from what the dark knight had gleaned of the right side's situation, the Norkotian squad that had gone there from his sector had harbored several Twistlings that ensured the fall of the right side wagons.

All he could think of now was how all of this could have been easily prevented had he been allowed to bring along the Aligorian forces, or at the least the duo of war elephants. They could have made short work of the Magnus while he and the other defenders on the left could have bolstered the right side and prevented the second wagon's fall, if not the first's. He decided then that he would send for them as soon as he was given the go-ahead to call in more forces, regardless of any protests against bringing them forth. The power of the Inanis took shape in his hand, and an ebon falcon soon took flight back toward Inns'th. Even if he couldn't bring them in as reinforcements yet, he would have the Aligorian force venture forth and secure the broken wagons' supplies, before Yh'mi could destroy or scatter them too much. With that, he smiled and walked to join the others as Fidelitas called for the expedition to continue forth in spite of their losses.

(Gormaric & Eri: Exit, pursued by a bear incompetence)

Edited by EpicRome23

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Embarassment flooded Soryn as he felt a bit of shame run through his system at being caught in such a vulnerable state. Calm usually overcame any anxiety or discomfort he had ever faced but the chitten’s neurotoxins were potent enough to pierce through an otherwise formidable resolve. He could feel his heart thumping against the cage of his chest, his body flaring in temperature, and his hands trembling after gripping his weapons. Sheryl’s attempt to exhort him was met with a deep breath before he would move to take the hand that had firmly gripped his shoulder into his own.


“Thank you for your words….miss? What is your name?”


The hovering cameras zoomed in on the lady knight before he continued.


“I apologize for allowing these annoying little creatures to affect my mental state with their toxins. Nevertheless, the emphasis that I placed on this difficult endeavor was still warranted. Do you agree?”



It was clear that Soryn had swiftly recovered and returned to reporting mode. Fidelitas soon signaled that they were going to rest here before continuing on though the majority considered this more of a failure than a success. He silently wondered how Fidelitas and the rest of his order managed to maintain morale but he would stash that inquiry for later when he was finished with Sheryl and a few others. Kindly excusing himself but not before letting Sheryl know they will speak again, he moved to survey the remains of the Chitten Magnus. Initially his intent was just to survey the corpse and have several detailed photos meant to spice up his final report but the slew of items that spilled from the carcass deserved some attention as well.


Celeste quickly analyzed much of the gear which came up as mundane but something ornate caught his eye. A necklace that was clearly crafted by someone with deep passion for the Gaian religion pierced through from underneath a pile of common weapons. Soryn would reach in to take hold of the necklace and place it within his cloak to admire later. After that, he’d quickly return to the group to settle in for some rest.

(Exit toward hub)

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Sheryl stepped back as the reporter appeared to regain his mental faculties, and just looked upon him sternly. 

"I am Sheryl Wainwright, Knight of the Order of Force Majeure" she responded to his questioning. "The emphasis placed upon this expedition is well known by those overseeing it. We are merely the first wave, and truth be told, matters have gone better then I expected." 

It was the truth to Sheryl. While there were veterans amongst their lot, the majority were untested. Yh'mi swallowed up whole parties before without trace, and even her predecessor, Master Knight Eredas, was tested amongst these lands, despite being able of taking down a Magnus in single combat. 

"We will speak later then. There is much to salvage". Sheryl then went to aid the others. Whilst they salvaged, she would focus on addressing wounds,bin the way of physical cleaning and binding if her more magical winds was refused. 

Edited by Fierach

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Is it over?

After getting knocked down by some kind of enemy ability earlier, Sera was finally realizing the final moments of this battle. There were no last stands for her nor songs of victory. There were only exhaustion and the stark relief of surviving yet another life-threatening encounter.

I didn't even get to fight anything.

It may have not been her preferred outcome but Sera knew it was the best. She picked herself up then, her eyes shifting towards the wagon. 

It's still safe. Guess that means I did well this time.

Sera allowed herself to chuckle for this brief moment of success before she turned her attention to the dead monsters farther ahead. There wall sorts of loot spilling out of their guts and it was both a questionable and rather distressing sight. She's not complaining though.

Guess I can just loot one of these for my reward. That needlessly large shield looks perfect for me. That loot is mine! All mine!

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"Good talk."

Who would have thought getting a response would be harder than squeezing blood from a rock? Taking the near absolute randomness that defined this group Ed supposed it couldn't be helped. Might as well get on with his day, there seemed to be a clamour about the corpse of the magnus.

Huh. So the magnus was a steel item pinata. Was there a particular reason for why one species would seemingly be braindead enough to trot about with weapons in its stomach? Maybe. But since he was late getting over to the beast..... There really was no way to say for sure. Studying the body before it got pulled apart in preparation for the next one would have been nice.

But if everyone couldn't get thier shit together and coordinate then it simply didn't matter.

Pick something but don't get overburdened. Okay, that was easy. Shadows didn't have weight and it would be a tedious but trivial matter to just lift and carry both broken wagons. All Ed would need to do was trust his trusty companions to come to his aid when Yh'mi decided that this one guy in particular was inconvenient and decided to focus him down.... 

After the last exchange? Fuck that.

From the remains of the magnus' stomach Ed selected a hunting knife. Half because it would be immediately useful and half because the remaining picking were really that slim. While there were bigger chunks of what could be considered steel scrap the potential gain wasn't enough to interest him. After all, he hadn't come out for the money, just the chance to shoot some acceptable targets. Huh, maybe it shouldn't have been a surprise that the twistlings snuck in when he'd just strolled into the group without giving so much as his name when that paladin called out for volunteers.

So to play it safe Ed grabbed the saevion corpse that Charlie didn't incinerate and slung it over his shoulder. If tossing it around earlier didn't damn him then simply carrying it couldn't be more eye catching. Weight? What was that? If questioned on his choice of loot, he'd simply raise an eyebrow and respond with bro, do you even lift? Every. Single. Time.

Any other words might be too complex for everyone else.

(Ed exit)

Edited by Akiris

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As everyone else seemed to pull out, as the wagon was destroyed, Noah went back quickly towards the Magus instead of sticking around for small talk.  He was interested in some of the loot that had dropped, but also some of the parts.  He noticed that the plated exoskeleton seemed rather hard in some areas, and so he decided to procure some plates that they had managed to knock off with their attacks.  Its defensive mode was truly powerful after all, and therefore he figured he might be able to use it as shields, weapons, and such.

And also, he found a pair of swords that caught his eye.  He liked his current swords, and his backups, but these looked good too.  With that done, he decided to make his way back.  Still, he had a bad feeling.  If this was how they did right off the bat, what would happen when things went down the road.  This was only the beginning after all.

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The concern any normal human being would have had for his fellow defenders was lost on Charlie. Instead of halting his pillage to assist the defenders he'd practically used as bait for the skittering monstrosities behind him, he continued on-wards to the spoil that had spilled from the Magnus's body.

He didn't even look back.

He didn't take notice of the last, fleeing Twistling that would doubtlessly return to exact revenge for its missing eye and dead brethren. Or maybe it'd return just because it was evil like that. He paid no heed to the commotion behind him. He figured that if everyone behind him got killed, he'd get to score a much larger haul. The only part about that scenario that bothered him was that the hot women he'd been planning to swoon would also be dead. He shrugged the thought off. It wasn't like he was committed to them or anything. If they died, they died. People always died. It was a mantra in Charlie's mind. He knew that someway, somehow, he would die one day too. In his mind though, his death would be legendary. He'd obviously go out with a bang. Or surrounded by large breasted women who couldn't keep their hands off of him. Either one seemed cool to him.

The moment he reached the magnus's body, he began scooping up as much loot as he could, cramming smaller items into his backpack and slinging larger ones over his shoulders. The chest-plate he'd had his sights on beforehand  was a little heavier than he'd expected, but he latched it to his back-pack nonetheless. He had absolutely no regard for the wise words of Fidelitas, choosing riches over a greater chance of surviving long enough to claim such riches. He thought to himself that if things got ugly, he'd just drop the pack someplace secure and get to the fighting unhindered. If someone stole it...well...you can probably guess what hell he'd raise. If he raised enough hell, the others might nip the issue in a bud and kill him, which I honestly believe would be a service to the rest of Terrenus.

The only problem with that outcome would be explaining it to Zack.

Charlie elected to stop looting after the chest-plate, figuring that he'd just steal loot off the others if he wanted more. He was walking back towards the others when he caught sight of a woman he'd seen earlier at the start of the expedition. Her name was Sera, and he was liking what he was seeing. She was walking over to pick up a shield from the spilled loot, and Charlie eyed her backside the entire time. Because of this, he wasn't looking where he was going and almost tripped over something again. Looking down, he spotted a pistol.

He didn't hesitate in picking it up and examining it, the thought of looking around to see who had dropped it not even briefly crossing his mind.

On 3/5/2019 at 1:30 PM, P.N.See said:

"Did anybody see my pistol? I can't find it!"

Charlie quickly stashed the weapon away with a deft quickness and pretended to notice Vlad's outburst. He then pretended to look for the weapon and eventually shrugged at Vlad.

"No dice, man!" Charlie shouted back. He gave Vlad a resigned grin before continuing on his way, whistling a tune.

He planned to find an unoccupied spot in order to case out the others for anything he could "borrow" when he spotted the woman he'd been healed by earlier when he got cut up by the Twsitling pretending to be doctor Warren. She appeared to tending to the injured. Taking a gander at her body for a few seconds, Charlie put on his best smile and practically sauntered over to her.

"Yo!" he said as he approached her, all his loot and stolen items clanking against one another on his person. "You're one that fixed me up out there right?" Charlie's grin grew. "Back there when I was hallucinating? I saw you for a split second and thought I was dead, cause you looked like an angel!"

Charlie waited with baited breath for her response, seemingly unaware that the last thing he'd ever see after death would be an angel. It be quite the opposite really, but he probably wouldn't even care if he was being stabbed by a being of torment as long as she was hot.


@P.N.See @Thotification @Fierach

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The beautiful blonde Knightess put on a smile for the approaching Charlie's benefit.

"Thank you for the compliment, but you must be mistaken, sir. I did not heal anybody on the field of battle" she replied, and then turned away to continue her medical aid to anybody else who needed it. Sure she was helping people now, but back when the fight was in full swing she had only applied restoration once, and to herself.

Charlie was not the only man to have attempted to approach and with flirt with Sheryl. Her classic beauty and noble demeanor garnered her many suitors, and she always accepted compliments politely. Precious few men ever caught her eye in return however, she usually was too busy to pursue such matters anyway.


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