An Open Horizon Ahead

[Conor]

69th of winter, 509 AV

A jolt of adrenaline and euphoria rushed through Conor’s body, stimulating his reaction speed and mental abilities. His javelin had crippled the sight of the mastodon, giving Conor a huge advantage over the aggressive predator. Or was that just his imagination? Only seconds after the adrenaline had taken away his last doubts about his own capabilities he feet were swept away from underneath his body. He fell to the ground, cursing himself for letting his guard down. This wasn’t the time to underestimate that creature... Oh, if he got out of this alive he would crush that little piss midget that had led him here. Conor crawled back up, completely numb. He had been flailed against a tree by the impact and now every joint and bone in his body refused to cooperate. Fortunately, the adrenaline kept the pain at bay; Conor knew that this battle could have been over already. Lady luck had favoured him once, but would she do it again? Conor wasn’t keen on finding out.

The creature remained vigilant, ready to intercept any missiles that would threaten his vision again. Conor knew that it was neigh impossible to land another lucky hit, and he knew that he was no match for the creature’s melee prowess. But this creature wasn’t sentient, it lacked basic intelligence and tactics and it relied fully on its misguided instincts. Conor simply had to lure him in a trap, something he could use to even the chances. Slowly, he stepped outside of the cleared area. The trees would hinder the creature and with some luck a tree would snap and fall on him. But even if that didn’t work, he had a good plan. He would climb the rocky foundations of the cave until he could fight the creature face to face. Perhaps it was even large enough for him to be bigger and gain yet another advantage. Slowly, Conor retreated towards the cave, and started to climb.

He grabbed hold of a piece of rock and pulled himself up, finding hold with his legs against the rough walls of the cavern. He didn’t look back to see if the creature was following him, afraid to lose hold. He didn’t want to think about the consequences if he would fail. The resonance of the beast’s vile roars still plagued his ears and his guts turned when he thought about its fearsome bulk. But that was were true courage lied; he continued despite his worst fears and he confronted himself with them. He could have easily fled, his horse was waiting for him near the old imp. But he had asked for training and now he had committed himself to slaying the contemptible beast that was already haunting his thoughts. Every time he got higher up he was relieved that he was still alive, and that he was closer to his goal. He would achieve it; death had no business with him yet, and he would sell his hide dearly.

[Jedo]

Fortunately for Conor, he had sneaked past the Balicani's blinded side, with its head turned away from him in a moment of condensed pain and fury. It brought a massive paw and swiped at its face, an inaudible cry of suffering palpitating the air. Its one functional eye focused on the trees in search of its assailant, the creature spotted the giddy and ever so relaxed old man, who was still accumulating his saliva inside his mouth. Roaring in rage, it smashed its claws into the ground as it jumped into the air, then using its mighty wings, glided down in a dashing aerial movement towards the tiny imp. The old man raised his eyes nonchalantly at the rapidly approaching creature, still obviously bored from his 'tiring' spitballing ordeal. When it was merely a few feet away from him, he quickly pulled his strange, highly-touted weapon from the ground, leaped a dozen into the air from his sitting position, did an acrobatic body twist like a nimble gymnast, then landed softly on the Balicani's armored back, settling that disgusting excreta-laden ass on a round hollow space between its wings. The lunge landed on soil and wood, with some more trees getting crushed under the monster's weight. Folding his arms across his chest, the old man tapped the creature's head with his sword spear three times. Being unable to see or turn its head towards his direction, it thrashed around wildly, with the imp only responding by a yawn and remaining perfectly still on its back. In its desperation, something caught its last remaining eye's attention: that of Conor, who was still scaling the cave's cliff face. A piercing, blood-curdling shriek of fury wafted from its bloody mouth as its four scaly legs began to dash in a crocodile-like manner towards the intruder. Rearing on its hind legs, it looked up at Conor's elevation with a burning, deadly look on its face, before striking the mouth of the cave with its tail in an attempt to make him fall. The hunter would be able to behold the extent of the damage he had done to the creature in his proximity, as well as smell the old man's odor penetrating the atmosphere like a plague.

[Conor]

69th of winter, 509 AV

He was almost there, he had but to pull himself up and he would be on top of the cave. Behind him, a shrieking sound seemed to cut right through the trees. Afraid that the monster had managed to catch up with him, Conor swung around and tried to see what happened behind him. The mastodon was flying towards the mouth of the cave – wait! Was that really that old dipshit that was riding on top of him? The Ballicani hit the cave with its abominable tail lash and Conor lost his grip on the rocky wall. An even more vile smell drifted along with the wind towards Conor, a small of human waste – so the imp was on top of the beast after all – and fresh blood. Dangling from one hand that was still clamping itself on the rocks in a desperate attempt to regain control, Conor could see the amount of damage that he had done. The eye had been obliterated and squirts of blood still erupted from the now blackish put. Relying on both his endurance and his strength as his willpower, Conor managed to pull himself up, and despite all the odds he reached the surface of the cavern.

But to what good? The Creature was capable of flying and so there was no way that Conor could meet the creature face to face, except if that same face would be rupturing his intestines from his stomach. Nervously, Conor paced around on the “roof” of the cavern. He was still panting from the long climb up, but his struggle was yet to begin. How the hell had that little bastard managed to get on the back of that beast? How? Had he used his farts to propel himself in the air once more? Was he really that skilled? Conor sighed, his mind still numb from the exhaustive climb. And then, a plan started to form itself in his mind. He had a sword, which was the same as an ice pickaxe, so what if he used the same technique as the glacier climbers did. He just had to have a little luck… What if he jumped, and used the entire weight of his body and armor to pierce a way through the scales… What if that was enough to gain a hold on the beast, and to either pull him down, or to get on top, like the old one had done.

But that seemed so impossible to attain. Conor’s heart started to throb in his throat, and he had to swallow several times to shake the awful feeling off. He had no other plan, descending down this rock meant even more overtiredness and certain death. But if he could gain a hold of the abominable draconic beast, he was almost certain of glorious victory. Conor bided his time, as soon as the creature would ascend from the ground, he would jump down on it, and use his sword as a grip. Seconds seemed to last like hours, as Conor waited on top of the hill, ready to face everything destiny had in store for him. “Come on, snaky, I’m waiting…” he whispered to calm himself. He was ready. When the creature finally ascended, he dived onto it, sword first, screaming a strange war cry.

[Jedo]

The creature merely looked up at the still climbing Conor, still gauging if he was going to fall right into its open mouth or not. It watched him with a roving, bloody eye, making sure not to lose him despite its horrendous handicap. The old man, growing bored with the rock climbing human's determination to win, tapped the beast's head again, making it swing wildly in fury. Bits of rock and snow fell from the top of the cliff, falling over towards the balicani. While it got hit several times to its annoyance, the imp's skill was finally demonstrated in plain sight for Conor to see. The old man batted the stones away with powerful twirling movements, making sure that even the tiniest pebbles were laid aside or crushed to dust. When a particularly large rock began to plummet down towards his very spot in the creature's back, he leaped again into the air, a flash of mighty skill shining through his eyes, then pierced through the 200 pound projectile with the tip of his weapon. To top it off, he spit the saliva which he had been saving in his mouth, effectively disintegrating the remnants. He continued flying up the air, reaching even Conor's level and beyond as he smirked at the brash young man from his elevation, that twinkle still shining in his eye. When his jet spurt began to wane in accelaration, he huffed up visibly in mid-air, then unleashed a stinking fart tornado of epic proportions from his potty-laden ass. The smell and the heat was so horrendous that even the snow around Conor's feet began to melt away as it propelled him higher up into the air again. It was obviously just a show for Conor, nothing more, for the old man obviously loved showing off his... "abilities" with the stink than his skill with the blade. "Good luck with that creature, youngin! You're doing everybody a huge favor! NYAHAHAHAHAHA!" he cried as he saluted, continuing to fly up and up until he had disappeared into the blue sky as another twinkle. He had, effectively, left Conor for dead. Below Conor, the Balicani flapped its powerful wings, dispelling the stink which the old man had left behind. It then leaped up as well, landing with a massive thud right in front of the hunter. Then, Conor charged forward with his ready sword, screaming in fury at the creature. (Dice roll: SUCCESS: Hit!) The sword was plunged into the creature's chest, but it only reached below the skin to the flesh, unable to pierce the organs. Roaring in pain, the creature immediately began to thrash around, and the sword was quickly dislodged. Not wasting any time, it quickly lunged forward at him in retaliation to chew him to death. (Dice roll: SUCCESS! CRIT HIT! Get ready to feel the THUNDAH! ) Conor was unable to react quickly to the creature's sudden attack, and was caught in its massive jaws. The bits of armor he had on however, broke a few teeth before it was able to puncture him too deeply, leaving him with only deep gashes to his belly and two broken ribs. The creature then flung him down the ravine and back into the clearing, where he laid with the dead cow, just as bloody a mess as it is. The Balicani, now angered beyond rage, leaped back down to earth with a thunderous slam, its draconic head and tail coiling back, ready to strike Conor dead the moment he tries anything again. Secret : OOC: You are so unlucky with the dice my friend. Conor: 30 HP Balicani: 60 HP Old Man: Fled.

[Conor]

Nothing went according to plan. Yes, his sword did injure the beast grievously, but it didn’t inflict any critical damage, nor did it manage to hold Conor on. The beast simply chewed at him and after it broke some of its teeth, but then, it pierced Conor’s stomach twice and it broke a few ribs. Pain crippled Conor’s thoughts and dazed he fell to the ground, he was finished, this was it. He had no escape route, the beast was ready to kill him once he would move. There was no way he could ever get out of here, never would he meet new friends and never would he be with a woman again. Conor coughed up some blood. He was through, the old man had simply left him for dead and he had lured him to his death. If Conor had believed in the gods, he would have cursed every name he knew, alas – or perhaps a lucky break for him - he didn’t know any of their names.

The agonizing pain made it impossible for him to think, but he tried so nonetheless. He wanted to get out, he wanted to butcher the beast and hack at its corpse until it was beyond repair. What if he just remained passive until the creature lunged forward? What if he used his throwing knife to blind it? It would do him no good. What if he waited until the beast wanted to chew some more, and then lunge forward with his blade to kill it? It all made no difference, he was through, he was dead, there was no way he could kill the beast. But if he got the chance, he would go down fighting.

[Jedo]

The monster was already feasting on the fallen human warrior in its last remaining eye, and the sight of Conor in agony almost seemed to give it some sadistic sort of glee. It started to inch closer, still wary of anything Conor might have up his sleeve, creeping slowly like a menacing reptile towards an unwary prey. The beast continued its advance, scaling the last remaining yards that stretched between it and its soon-to-be-victim. Conor, however, stopped moving, and this confounded the creature. Maybe from shock, maybe from fatigue. Maybe even blood loss, as the holes in his abdomen were leaking blood like it was some some sort of broken pipe. Whatever it was that happened to the poor human lying there, it saved him. Balicani are not scavengers after all, as can be evidenced by the festering cow beside him. It took in a whiff of his scent, following that by sticking out its long and slimy tongue to lick his back to see if he was really dead. The hot saliva dripped into the gaping holes, which almost caused Conor to gasp in malignant pain. Still his body remained unmoving due to the enormous stress. Grunting in satisfaction, the creature turned around and started to flap its wings again, leaping into the air and flying away towards a new habitat. Conor for his part, remained there, still alive but barely. With his legs still strong and intact despite the wreck that his body had become, he could still flee towards his horse and back to civilization. But the clock is ticking and he has to move fast. Secret : Conor: 30 HP Balicani: HP Fled.

[Conor]

Luck was a strange thing, it constantly shifted, favored different persons and had no regard for justice, right or wrong. It could screw you over in an instant and the next moment it could save you from certain death. If Conor wouldn’t have feared to suffocate, he would have sighed in relief when the damn mastodon left. He chuckled, laughing at his own bizarre destiny, but he quickly stopped when a jolt of agony crawled up his spine beginning at his diaphragm. He wasn’t out of the blue yet, he still had to get to a physician or a healer before he would bleed out. It seemed like he had already lost an obscene amount of blood, and he was surprised that so much blood flew through his veins. Maybe he had plenty left? When he tried to crawl to his faithful horse, he realized that he didn’t. “Shit,” he cursed, angry at his luck. Why hadn’t lady fortune favored him when he had attempted the jump instead of now, when he was near death. He tried to control his respiration, and he was happy when adrenaline took over. It worked like a drug and it numbed his senses and pain and stimulated his muscles and endurance.

But it wasn’t nearly enough. He finally managed to crawl through the dirt towards his horse. Every step hurt like hell and he still had so many left. A red haze clouded his vision like a vapor of blood remained in place forever. Cursing his faith for the hundredth time that day, he finally reached his warsteed and he tried to pull him up in the saddle. It proved to be not that easy and only after numerous attempts did he finally manage to pull himself up. He directed his horse to a direction that seemed fit, and he tried not to fall off. Falling would mean death. His strength of will kept him in place and his horse took him away, hopefully to his rescue.

[Jedo]

Conor's faithful horse galloped as fast as its legs could carry it, neither it nor its master knowing where help would be in the massive forest. The shades around the trees which they passed by seemed to be towering specters coming to grab the wounded man, with the lingering presence of the wicked old imp pervading his sight at every interval. It seemed that the old man did not only get him maimed and left him for dead, he had also cursed Conor to see him everywhere. However this was truly not the case, and luck was on the human's side, for on the edge by a clearing in the woods, a hut could be seen, patrolled by some Syliran knights. The flags flew up high in the sky, high enough for Conor to see them right before he fainted and dropped from his horse. He was to wake up several hours later, with his wounds still painful but bandaged up. A couple of knights were standing watch outside, with another one holding a pot of what appears to be some badly-cooked soup to his face. "Good thing you're awake sonny. You've been out cold for awhile." he said. He appears to be a middle-aged man, with blond hair and a thick mustache, as well as a few wrinkles on his face. Nonetheless he is a massive man, around 6'5 in height, bulky and sturdy looking. The knight placed the pot down on a side table beside the bed, taking another look at Conor's wounds. "Balicani attack?" he asked roughly. "You were pretty banged up you know. You're lucky to be alive, we've lost quite a few men to those dumb animals in recent years." He sat down on a chair adjacent to Conor, his heavy armor and bulk putting a strain on the flimsy chair he sat on. Without saying anything else, he took off the robust and battered looking helmet he had on, tucking it under his arm. "Name's Argen Konar, who're you sonny?"