An Open Horizon Ahead

[Conor]

69th of winter, 509 AV

That wrinkly old man sure had guts! "Know about me? Heh! You do not deserve to know more about me!" he sniffed. He flicked a bugger away and some mucus dribbled down his nose. "I am the greatest swordmaster of these current times! An insolent young punk like you deserves nothing from me!" The arrogance of that little doorknob astonished Conor, he knew people were adepts at lying, but it couldn’t be possibly true that this was the greatest swordmaster. He was small, looked to be at least well over seventy, and he was childish. And the most annoying thing was that he was proud of himself, like he had been created with the sole task of irritating innocent travelers.

And yet, some part of Conor wanted to believe that he was truly a great swordmaster… What if he really was capable of great feats with his sword? Conor could only find out if he asked him. “Lots of critters here in these woods at this time! Time for me to go!" he remarked, and he walked off towards the woods. But Conor was to intrigued by this remarkable fellow to let him go just yet. His horse quickly caught up with the little impish elder, and rode next to him. “Could you please teach me, I mean, if you truly are the world’s greatest swordsman then you could probable teach me, an insolent young, a lot.” Conor decided to act subservient to gain the favor of the peculiar fellow. After all, there was much at stake if he was a master with a blade.

“In return I’ll help you with something,” Conor promised. Of course he would do so, but only if the man offered his terms in advance. Conor wasn’t about to let him get tricked. “I could offer you some food, or even a small fee if you wish so,” Conor continued. He was eager to learn more about sword fighting, and he wasn’t about to let this chance slip through his nets. Hopefully the old man agreed to his terms. Perhaps something good could come of this meeting after all.

[Jedo]

The old fellow's nose wrinkled at the inquiry of him teaching Conor. Stopping dead in his tracks, he inched further towards the left, then stared into the rider's eyes with a gaze of incredulity. Remaining quiet for a few seconds, during which the birds in the forest took the moment to squawk and stretch their wings, all hell broke loose again once the man had collected his thoughts back to himself. "Are you INSANE?! You are SO INSOLENT!!" the old man spat, once again starting to jump up and down in anger. If his hair had not been sparse already one would have gotten the impression that he was just itching to tear it all off in frustration. The strange sword-spear on his back--which also happened to be far longer than the man's entire body at around 6 feet--swung precariously to either side helplessly with every movement, with the rope stabilizing it finally slipping down further from its resting position inside a circular sheath. The blunt tip of the weapon then thrust into the ground just as he was landing from a particularly high one, leaving him high and dry, dangling like a helpless pinata. Even more irritation started to wheeze into his mind as he struggled to go free. "Curses! Lemme down! Put me down I say!" He screamed and wiggled and thrashed, but the spear only swayed with every movement of his and made things worse. Finally tiring after two minutes of the ordeal, the old man simply gave up, letting his body rest limply against the pole. Giving Conor a look of fury and shame, he bellowed, "Are you just going to watch me hang here or are you going to help me, you young idiot?!"

[Conor]

69th of winter, 509 AV

At first, the old man declared him insane and he scolded at him with astonishing skill. It was like this man was made for insults and the like. The man started to jump up and down in anger, cursing Conor. But then, all of a sudden, his sword – which was longer than him – was pushed into the ground and the man hanged helplessly from the strings which he had used to carry the sword. Well, if you could still call that a sword. It was a spear, a claymore one might call it. After cursing and screaming for a while, the man finally gave up, and screamed: “Are you just going to watch me hang here or are you going to help me, you young idiot?!" Conor dismounted and walked over to the man.

“There is no need to scream and shout at me,” Conor explained. “I merely wanted to learn from the best – and isn’t that what you proclaimed to be?” Conor looked at the man and felt compassion. Whatever had made him this bitter and wretched, it must have been something awful. “I’ll let you down in an instant, but in return I ask you to help me improve my swordfighting skills. I’ll even give you some Miza’s, I swear!”

[Jedo]

A massive vein in the old man's temple started to crack even larger at the mention of an exchange, threatening to explode within that strange goblin head of his. A furious quake ran through his entire body as his body hung helplessly, the sensation overwhelming his whole being... Then, without warning, the tension burst out once more... from his bottom. A marvelously long and calamitous fart, one even more powerful than that which had come earlier, rocked the sword-spear's solid foundations, propelling him upwards and out of the sharp point's clutches. The flash from his eyes was one of triumph and glory, yet the moment he fell back to earth butt-first, he felt the exquisite wet feeling of human soil seeping through his jumpsuit. It seems that the powerful display of wretchedness did not come without a price this time, although it is one which would also serve to deter anyone from approaching him. The smell of his excreta would have been enough to send bears and horses running, as evidenced by the sudden uproar which Conor's horse made. It reared back, throwing him to the ground. The sly old man started sniffing around him, pretending that the smell wasn't coming from him. His sweat ran in rivers down his forehead and temples, and the wind blew the smell to Conor's direction even more. "YOU! Did you just soil your pants?!" he screamed in an accusing voice, pointing a stubby, bony finger at the human traveler. He wasn't about to be coaxed into teaching his incredible without a fight!

[Conor]

69th of winter, 509 AV

That little kobold had just proven to the world that he wasn’t just repulsive, he was the single most skilled person in that area of expertise. He was the king of repulsiveness, no, he was the emperor, if there were any competitions – Conor even dreaded of thinking about those – he would win them all hands down. It was impossible that that little man was the best swordfighter in the world. How could he be? Sure, he was inventive, and even though he seemed to get himself into all sorts of strange ordeals, he always found a way out. Like he was some sort of magician. But this time, he failed epically. His calamitous fart propelled him into the air, and liberated him from his delicate situation. He fell on the ground, and seemed to be repulsed by himself for a while – or was that just Conor’s imagination? He pointed to the young adventurer with a bony finger and accused Conor: “You! Did you just soil your pants?!” Conor couldn’t help but chuckle. How childish was this individual? So that was what was bothering him, he had soiled himself.

But when the smell was pushed in his direction by the wind, Conor almost had to vomit. It was like he had excreted a corpse that had been rotting in his stomach for years. It was almost unbearable and Conor’s horse thought so as well. He neighed and kicked. Clearly the animal wasn’t charmed with the odour at all. “Seriously,” Conor said. He reached out for a mask in his backpack and he covered his nose and mouth with it. “If anyone here is discourteous it is you,” Conor said. He wasn’t taking this shit anymore. How appropriate did that sound in his head. Perhaps the man had lost his skills in human conversation years ago when he started to roam the wilds, but that was hardly an excuse. “Look, I’m sorry if I ever insulted you in some bizarre way, but you’re the one who’s been acting hostile all along!” He was fed up, he really was. The last part of him that had found it humouring had been conquered by that stench. This man was no more than an animal, an even more primitive form of life. “You claimed to be the world’s greatest swordfighter? Prove it... Surely, the world’s greatest swordfighter would be capable of teaching me?”

But he clearly wasn’t he world best swordsman. No, that seemed impossible; the man was just a fraud. He could have know it, it was too good to be true, stumbling upon the world’s best fighter in the wilds. He had been adventuring for only a week now, so how possible was that... But some part of Conor wanted to believe it, because if this really was the best swordsman in the world, than he would gain some sort of reward for his stench. Conor shrugged. He knew the man was going to respond in an aggressive manner on his remark – hopefully he wouldn’t charge him head on – but Conor was ready. If he would attempt an attack than Conor would be delighted to end his miserable existence. No longer would starting adventurers have to endure the tirades of this beast. No longer would they be lured by his false pretences and no longer would they have to endure the stench. His hand rested on the heft of his sword, and his other hand was ready to either pull out a throwing knife or to mount up again. “So what is it going to be? Does “the world’s greatest swordsman want to coil up in the wilderness, or does he want to do something valuable with his life for once?”

[Jedo]

Surprisingly, the old man did not react vehemently to the provocation. He simply tilted his head to the left and looked at Conor with a curious look in his face. Could it have been the filth marring his rear? But if it was, it would have been an expression of discomfort. Nay to the idea, for this was an expression of amusement and confidence. And it was a serious one. Remaining silent for a few more minutes, the old man simply got up from his sitting position and dusted his butt, then squeezing the accumulated excreta inside his trousers and thrusting his middle and index fingers into one nostril each to take a whiff of the smell. The expression changed from that dark and serious look to one of delight and pleasure for a second before reverting back to a more straight and plausible manner of speech. "Since you have chosen to challenge me youngin, I'll give you something to fight." Turning around, the old man took hold of the sword-spear beside him, yanking it free with minimal effort before walking away once more. He raised his middle finger into the air and wiggled it to Conor, as if telling him to come follow him. The pair ventured deeper into the woods, walking for several minutes through thick undergrowth and thawing snowdrifts. The trees were towering pines with tiny holes in them, with the luminescent eyes of small creatures indicating that these are occupied by the thousands. The buzzing sound of flies swarming around something greeted Conor's hearing once they reached a clearing in the lush snow-covered fauna, and the already incredible smell of the old man was further compounded by something that was actually rotting. The bloated, festering flesh heap of a slain cow could be seen at the mouth of a massive cave, where the winds howled and told of an ominous presence nearby. Huge claw and bite marks could be seen adorning the body, and the belly was slashed open like a helpless rug. Its two hind legs were already missing, and in their place were gaping, bloody holes. Huge black flies feasted on the entrails and blood which spilled out into the ground, a true mess to behold it was. The old man stopped in his tracks just by the end of the bush, then thrust his strange weapon into the ground. His eyes sharpened into ones of keen alertness as he surveyed the cave and the dead cow, then he turned and faced the much younger man behind him. "Go on, explore the cave, but don't enter it. You will find all the training you need here."

[Conor]

69th of winter, 509 AV

The provocation appeared to have some sort of result at the old man. He cocked his head to the left, and stared to Conor as he lectured him. He seemed more serious when the sermon was over, and for a moment, Conor thought he was going to get aggressive. But he remained passive and simply touched his behind. A mushy sound made Conor stagger back a little. It was too much to hope for, one lecture from “ an insolent young” wasn’t enough to change his lifetime of habits, especially his more dirty and self-amusing ones. When the man pushed his fingers up to his nostrils and smelled his own excretes he smiled. Apparently he wasn’t disgusted by his own human waste and he seemed to enjoy the reaction of Conor. Well, he sure was easily content, if he could find pleasure and delight even in his own filth. “Since you have chosen to challenge me youngling, I’ll give you something to fight!” But instead of charging Conor, the man simply raised his middle finger to tell Conor to follow him.

Conor smiled; finally, he had made some progress with this peculiar being. It was like they were finally talking in the same language instead of in some bizarre code including a lot of fart-like expressions. They ventured deep into the woods, walking along myriad pines. Countless little eyes indicated that creatures lived in those threes. The buzzing sound of flies annoyed Conor and he was getting impatient when they finally reached an open spot. The old man kept waiting in the bushes and he seemed to gaze to some sort of carcass. The heap of meat – the remains of a huge cow – was already decaying, and a howling wind made Conor’s skin itch. Whatever had led to the demise of that beast , it must have been something horrific. Perhaps another impish fellow like the one that had led Conor here? Perhaps a whole tribe of these annoying little critters lived here, with the sole purpose to irritate people to death. If the smell wouldn’t come for them first. Conor’s imagination took a hold of him, until his guide finally spoke: "Go on, explore the cave, but don't enter it. You will find all the training you need here." His words didn’t really sound encouraging. Perhaps the beast was hiding in the cave, and Conor was the bait to lure him out? Or maybe he would call his brethren after all.

Conor tied his horse’s ropes to a pine, and gathered his equipment. He picked one of the javelin, and left for the open, his sword in the other hand. And if that wasn’t enough he still had a few throwing knifes. “Thanks,” he uttered when he passed by his “tutor”. It wasn’t exactly what Conor had in mind when he thought about training, and whilst he was standing there he couldn’t help but consider the fact that that vile man had betrayed him. He stayed vigilant, watching the entrance to the cave. He spun ‘round when he heard a branch snapping underneath something’s feet. This forest made a hell of a lot noise. Conor’s nerves were tensed, and his heart was pouding like a lunatic. But true courage comes from those that stay put, despite their anxiety, and Conor stayed put, ready for whatever fortune had in store for him. Fortune favored the bold after all…

[Jedo]

The old man settled down into the cold snow slowly, making sure that his tiny legs can stretch without actually breaching the limits of the bushy enclaves, He groaned in pleasure as he felt the he ice on his ass, which was extremely refreshing against the warm dung sticking into his jumpsuit. When a fly started to catch the irresistibly disgusting smell that he carried around, the old man finally displayed some of that skill which he had been tooting all this time--by grabbing a blade of grass and literally slicing the fly in half. Thus all further attempts by the raisin-sized buggers to feast on his ass was deterred. With a fickle eye he watched as Conor treaded the clearing slowly and cautiously, making a conscious effort not to provoke whatever was inside. An devilish grin started to coil up the sides of his flapping mouth, revealing his yellowed teeth in a hideously happy expression. "Now you will 'TRAIN' your heart out, youngin!" he shouted to Conor. He then huffed a huge breath, then screamed a shrill cry with all his might, "BETTER STAY ON YOUR TOES!!" Almost at once a huge bellowing noise crushed the dark silence which draped the deep cave, with a pair of huge yellow eyes suddenly lighting up against the black. The sound of wings began to drive powerful gusts of wind out of the cave, which blew away the flies around the carrion. Even the smell of rot seemed to dispel under the force of the winds confronting the human, as if a hurricane had just awakened inside the dwelling. Within a few more seconds, a larger-than-human-sized face emerged from the mouth of the cave, followed by a long, winding, reptilian body dragged by four hairy legs. Each of its four toes was ornamented by large, bloody, spike-like claws that matched the wounds on the dead carcass perfectly. The head had a flat, bat-like face, displaying a ferocious array of sharp teeth when the mouth bristled, and two long, damp horns sprouted from its forehead in a manner not unlike that of a domesticated bull's. Around its neck, back and tail were thick scales that seemed to be almost armor-like in quality. The green body also sported a couple of enormous membrane-bound wings that were more mammalian than dragonesque, and they fluttered together furiously as its eyes flared in animalistic fury at its supposed disturber. Saliva dripped from its monstrous jaws, ready to crunch bone and marrow to dust any second now. It waited for Conor to make the first move, towering over the much smaller human in its natural vantage point. For his part, the old man simply took a smoking pipe from inside his trousers, puffing away happily in his safety as Conor faced the challenge of his life, in the form of the most deadly known creature to Syliras: The Balicani. Secret : Sorry, the wiki ain't written in yet.

[Conor]

69th of winter, 509 AV

Seconds seemed to be hours, time passed in an excruciating slow rate as Conor stood there, in the middle of a little clearing. In the shadows of the cavern loomed his opponent, ready to baffle him with his no doubt monstrous appearance. Conor was almost fed up with the silence that seemed to have clouded the forest. He was ready to march into that cave anyway, to meet its vile occupant head on. “Now you will train your heart out, youngling!” the old one spoke. Bah, even now, that menace to society still had an attitude. With a shrill voice the kobold screamed: “BETTER STAY ON YOUR TOES,” as if to lure the beast out. Well, he did have success. The silence that had shrouded the forest with a mysterious aura was broken violently by the roars of huge beast. A powerful wind blew out of the caverns and the sounds of wings in use alerted Conor. Was he to fight a flying beast? How the heck was he supposed to do that?

The face of a predator appeared and dragged a long scaled, reptilian body behind him. The body was supported by four legs with depraved claws, still dripping with cow blood. The horns of the mastodon were in tone with the rest of his body; huge and extremely dangerous. When the beast roared its battle cry again, Conor could see three – yes, three! – rows of dagger-like, serrated teeth in the mouth of that abomination. If Conor would have seen its image from afar, he would have thought that it was a fierce but beautiful beast. Up close the only thing he cared about was its life and how to end it. The beast waited for Conor to make his first move; the young adventurer shrugged. His javelin seemed like a futile twig compared to the mastodon that was confronting him. His sword seemed inadequate as well. It was like he was trying to barge in a city gate with a rotten branch. But Conor knew that he had to kill it, running didn’t seem like an option, and after all, he had asked for a challenge. “Oh shit,” he uttered when he gave the beast a second look. His heart seemed to want to escape his chest. Maybe he would have been better off with a tribe of those impish fellows. But then again, their smell was probably equally deadly.

Conor threw his spear, but he didn’t even look to see if it did any damage at all. He knew it was a long shot, but he had aimed for the eyes. Maybe the beast was guided by those organs, or perhaps it could rely on smell and hearing as well. But if it did rely on smell… then it would probably go for that old goon that had crapped himself voluntarily. And when it was distracted, maybe Conor could… It seemed like a long shot, but the armor like scales probably weren’t pierce able. But how would he lure the animal’s head to his sword, how would he evade its claws and most important, how would he kill it? Conor got another plan, a backup plan. If the beast would bite at him, he would try to pierce his throat from the inside out by sticking his sword into the monster’s mouth. It was a long shot. But then again, as said before, fortune did favor the bold. He had proven that when he had addressed the old man. He had received training after all.

[Jedo]

OOC: From now on, you can pray to the lords of the dice my friend. *cackles* Also, this will be an attack - attack tactical fight. Pure luck will be needed here, but you can strategize too! ;p The monster's bellow was so fearsome and tremendous that the earth around the tiny piece of forest seemed to quake every time it uttered a sound of fury. The birds hiding in the trees, shocked awake by the commotion, started to fly and flee for dear life, knowing that the lord of the territory had awakened. (Dice roll for spear attack: Success! Critical hit! BUGGER!) Conor's spear, which had been hurled with a doubting and lackadaisical sense of desperation, seemed to be guided by some friendly god up above, for it found its path to the target to be straight and true. The tip plunged into the Balicani's face, effectively putting out its left eye. For its part, the creature threw its massive body around in pain, raging in the surprising accuracy of such a poorly thrown heavy weapon. The monster backed off a little, its wings flapping around with a hurting kind of force. Once it had recovered a little from its agony, it lashed out its powerful tail towards Conor, the impediment disallowing a clearer sense of sight to target him effectively. (Dice roll for tail attack: Success! BAM!) The retaliatory blow from the injured Balicani was somewhat weaker than to be expected due to the preemptive strike, but it was still strong enough to fling the human hunter a dozen feet away into a tree trunk, which cracked under the sudden application of weight. But being a little bit more cautious this time, the creature stood pat, more ready than before to catch anything which Conor might throw back at it. Its razor sharp claws, still caked in blood, dug deep into the soil to brace itself against whatever clever tricks the human might have up his sleeve. The old man continued to watch the unfolding battle with little excitement, once more picking his nose and then licking the hairy ball which he plucked out from within his twin caverns. A sudden downwards surge of the saliva that he had been spitballing for several minutes towards his esophagus made him cough and blanch a little, after which he began to grimace again, trying to accumulate more saliva for... something. Secret : Conor HP: 70 / 100 Balicani HP: 80 / 100 Old man HP: NA / NA