The Giant's Great Fall

[Oushi]

This is a closed RP between The Writing Writer, Ksarh, and me. Here's hoping that I'm doing everything correctly with this first post.

"So, you want me to find your little girl."

Zyx leaned back in his seat, across from him sat a married couple torn over the loss of their daughter. The spiky haired half-demon sighed and looked over the room. Beyond his table lied the rest of the Drunken Dragon, one of the many taverns in Radasanth. It was still early in the day, so few, aside from a few drunkards, had come to fill their bellies with ale. Zyx, however, had come for a different reason than a drink. The Drunken Dragon had become his base-of-operations, and he would spend most of his days in the tavern waiting for a client. It was only recently that Zyx came to Radasanth, and he found it quite a pleasant place. The sheer diversity of the place made him feel confidant that none would mind his hellish heritage, and he strode across town proudly flaunting his fanged teeth, his hood resting against his black clock instead of atop his black hair.

The mercenary sighed. Usually he considered himself above running around looking for something lost, whether it was a family heirloom or something as precious as a child. Zyx much preferred to do his work with his swords, but this couple was willing to pay quite a bit for their daughter's safe return, and Zyx could not refuse a pouch filled to the top with coins. He leaned forward and looked at his clients.

"Alright, I'll find your da-"

Zyx was cut off by a tapping on the window. He turned to see where the disturbance had come from and saw his little demon familiar, Kmoidryrk, tapping on the glass with a black little claw. Kmoidryrk was not allowed in the tavern, on account of his tendency to sneak into the cellar and come flying out in a drunken fury. The shadowy little imp was motioning excitedly to a crowd of people gathering outside the tavern, in the center of the throng Zyx noticed what looked like a tiny puddle of blood, and that was enough to catch his interest.

Zyx stood from the table and began striding outside. The couple spun in their seats, "Wait! What about our daughter?!" they shouted in worry. Zyx continued, disregarding their concerns, "It looks like I have better things to do." He replied before stepping outside into the cool morning air.

Kmoidryrk approached his master and guided him to the crowd. Zyx pushed his way past the excited townsfolk and shoved himself into the center. Inside, Zyx found the object of everyone's attention was a beaten and bruised young man. The man was outfitted in armor and a spear, though it appeared they did him no good. Fresh wounds bled onto the road, and the man was so weak he was relying of a study piece of wood to keep him off the ground. The young man was apparently enlightening the crowd to why he was in such a pitiful state. Zyx listened half-heatedly, but when the word 'giant' came up, the conversation reached a new level of interesting.

"Tell me, boy." Zyx said, abruptly cutting the warrior off. He turned to look and Zyx and replied, his breath was ragged and slow.

"What is it you want, friend?"

"This giant, where can I find it?"

The warrior was stunned, and replied in a low, confused voice, "You...you don't want to fight this beast, do you?" He uttered.

"Indeed, it shouldn't be too much of a fight. I figure if you got out alive then it can't be too strong a giant." Zyx smirked. The crowd, however, did not find Zyx's comment so amusing. One man pushed through the crowd and stared angrily at Zyx.

"That's my mate Darren, and you dare mock him?! You think you're so mighty, I'll put you in your place!" The angry man charged at Zyx and threw a rage driven punch at his face. Zyx chuckled and stepped to the side, the man's fist striking only the air. Zyx lifted up his leg and shoved the man back into the crowd with his foot. The man grunted and stumbled back into the crowd, knocking over a few people in the process.

"Bastard!" The man moved to get up and make a second attack, but Darren was quick to prevent anymore violence.

"That's enough, Berret, let the giant take care of him." Darren said coldly as he reached inside his trousers, producing a crumpled up piece of parchment, slightly stained with blood. Zyx took the piece of paper and straightened it out, though it was stained with blood and wrinkled, it was clear that this was a wanted poster. On the top of the page the name 'Giant' was scrawled out, and a rough sketch of the beast was drawn below it. Zyx wasn't interested in names and pictures, though, he was looking for a reward.

"Ohhoho, looks like whoever posted this bill is willing to pay its weight in gold. Not a bad profit, I'd think." Zyx's eyes scanned the page for more information. Apparently the giant had made its home inside the Jagged Mountains, a mountain range north of Radasanth. Having learned what he needed to learn, Zyx stuffed the paper into his pocket and began to walk off, the Jagged mountains his destination. However, a slight tug at his coat caused him to stop and turn. He saw that it was an old woman who had stopped him, her wrinkled old face was one of concern and fear, Zyx recognized her as a client he had several days ago.

"Please, sir, I know you're determined to fight this beast, but hear me out. These townsfolk know well of Darren's strength, he would be no push-over, not even for you, and I've seen your power with my own eyes. I ask that you take some companions with you, surely you won't have any objection to an old woman's wish?"

Zyx pondered her words for a moment, and found a bit of wisdom in them, "Very well." Zyx looked over the crowd, surely some of them were decent warriors. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

"Anyone who thinks they are more than a match for a giant and would like to earn themselves a large sum of gold and glory, come forth! All I ask is that you don't slow me down!"

[The Writing Writer]

Quickened steps and passing branches filled The Writer's ears with their rhythmic song. The sun shone dimly through the breaks in the branches of the surrounding trees. It was a warm evening in Corone. Even as the sun cowered behind the horizon and his sister moon made her way into the sky, the heat of the day still clung to the air.

Young pines stretched upward, reaching for the heavens above. The forest was quiet, save the deep, eerie breath of The Writer's prey. It bellowed deeply, shaking the ground itself with every breath. Jacob detested snorers.

The creature's stench was unmistakable- it was near by. For days Jacob had stalked the creature, adopting the shadows as his sanctuary. Just beyond the creatures sight, and just upwind of the creature's keen nose, The Writer stalked, and watched, and considered.

Shortly after the loss of his home to the hands of the doppelganger, Jacob had ventured north, deep into the Jagged Mountains. Without a place to spread his twisted roots, the Mad Poet had been restless. The dangers of the mountains served to occupy the broken mirror that was his mind, easing the pain of loss.

Jacob had been wandering about the mountainous countryside when he happened upon the creature- a giant. Never before had Jacob seen so much skin. With that creatures flesh alone he could fashion himself a new lair and once again be surrounded by the walls of flesh that were his poems. But bringing down a giant was no easy task. The creature stood twenty feet tall at the least, perhaps more. The creature's sheer size and strength alone prevented The Writer from taking any action against him, lest he wind up nothing more than a stain upon the creature's foot.

Jacob regretted not taking his chance earlier that day. A lone soldier, or perhaps a knight, had challenged the monster. The young man was clad in plate mail and wielded a mighty pike. Though the fight had dragged on for quite a while, the giant spent the majority of that time toying with the soldier- tossing him around like a simple play thing. Jacob reasoned that perhaps if the young man had not weighed himself down with all that cumbersome armor, he would had stood a better chance. In this way, the Mad Poet had an advantage over the creature. For though the giant was strong, The Writer was fast. But a quick wind alone cannot bring down a mountain. Jacob would have to continue watching, and continue waiting until the right moment to strike.

For now, the Mad Poet stopped and rested his leathery feet. He lay there, still winded from a day's worth of running. Each step the giant took was comparable to several of The Writer's, so even though the creature stumbled lazily and clumsily about the mountains, it was not easy to keep up with him. The Mad Poet felt his eyes grow heavy. He eventually obliged them, and allowed his body to rest.

[Ksarh]

Ksarh exited through the back of The Drunken Dragon into a small alley. He was not drunk though. He had not even drunk any liquor, not seeing the appeal of alcoholic beverages. Back when he had visited the establishment for the first time, the patrons had tried to get him drunk, thinking it would be hilarious to have a drunk Dragon in The Drunken Dragon. The things they had given him to drink had ranged in taste from horrible to quite tasty, but in his opinion, none could beat fresh spring water. Eventually they gave up, concluding that this species of Dragon could not get drunk, but the disappointment of the patrons was quickly undone when he found out that he could set his burps on fire because of the large amounts of alcohol he had consumed.

One could wonder why a Dragon ended up in a tavern in the first place. He did not need anything from the place to sustain himself, being a capable enough hunter to fetch his own food, but unfortunately, gold could neither be plucked from trees nor hunted down in a forest. The only way he could get his claws on some was to venture into lands inhabited by other sentient races. Since they didn’t hand it out for free he had to trade it in for some auxiliary prey or simply rob them. Not wanting any pitchfork and torch wielding mobs behind him, he had settled for the first option. Just a moment ago he had delivered a freshly slain deer in exchange for a handful of Gold. He took a few pieces in his claw and looked at them for a moment before throwing them in his mouth. As he chewed on the hard metal like a dog on a bone, small flames could be seen in his mouth, making gold a little softer.

After he had satisfied his taste for gold sufficiently he swallowed the mangled blob of metal that the pieces had now become and left the alley. It was time to head back into the wilderness. Just as he was about to move towards the city gates, he caught the strong smell of blood on his tongue. Curious he followed his nose towards the group gathered around the wounded Darren. He did not quite get what the commotion was about, but the chatter of a Giant kept him interested enough to listen a bit longer, eventually learning what had transpired.

When the challenge was issued to go and fight a Giant for gold and glory, his first thought was to join up straight away, immediately followed by his common sense telling him he was not 'more than a match for a Giant' by far. The thing would most likely squash him before he could even get close. Just then, another man stepped forward, answering Zyx’ call. “You said his weight in gold right?” He had a light tan and short brown hair. He was dressed in brown leather pants and a cuirass with a crimson tabard lightly draped over it. At his side hung a large claymore and he held a helmet with a red plume under his arm. Whether his spotless appearance was due to good care of his equipment or lack of field experience was hard to tell, but the man looked well trained at least.

Seeing others join, Ksarh’s mind kept mulling. Alone he was no match for this prey, but in a group he might just have a chance. By not joining, we would be throwing away a very reasonable chance at the bragging rights of having killed a Giant and a solid amount of gold on top of that. His mind was quickly made up. He rose to his hind legs, wings stretched backwards and a little to the side, trying to appear as large as he could. “I’m in as well.” He crossed his arms and tried to look as menacing as he could.

[Oushi]

The once slightly solemn crowd was now getting very excitable, much to Zyx's amusement. The promise of such a magnificent reward had the townsfolk giddy with visions of grandeur. Friends were playfully jostling each other, daring one another to go fight the giant, but despite the enthusiasm, for a while it seemed that Zyx would be going on his hunt solo. Until, that is, the first volunteer stepped forth. Dressed in a sturdy suit of armor, wielding a mighty blade, and clothed in a rich, crimson tabbard, the brown haired warrior looked eager for battle, and whether his choice fueled by courage or the promise of a sack-full of coins, Zyx cared not.

The well-equipped warrior's bravery did not go without a reward. The crowd roared with cheers and hurrahs, and a thunderous applause rose from the townsfolk. Even Zyx joined in, more to humor the gathered rather than out of sincerity. The more fodder he could get, the easier this fight would be, after all.

It wasn't long before one jovial voice raised up the cheers of everyone once more, though. "With these numbers on our side, that giant won't stand a chance!" He cried, and the rest of the crowd cheered once more, even louder than they had for the sword-wielding warrior. Zyx grinned; he had a considerable force on his side.

"Well then, no more volunteers? Very well then, shall we be off then?" Zyx asked the two warriors. Suddenly, a voice rose from the crowd, a somewhat familiar one, and one that didn't exactly sound as jolly as the rest.

"Hold it right there, I'm coming to." The voice came forward, revealing himself to be the very same man who had assaulted Zyx earlier, Berret. Now that he wasn't flailing his fist about, Zyx had time to notice his features. Atop his head he wore a brown cap, and strands of blond spilled out from underneath it. He wasn't as extravagantly equipped as the crimson clothed warrior that had offered his sword earlier, in fact, Berret was dressed in nothing more than a loose cotton shirt, trousers, and a well worn pair of boots.

"Don't be a fool, you expect to take down a giant with your bare hands?" Zyx retorted, a smirk forming on his lips.

"No, I'll not be coming unarmed," Berret reached for Darren's spear, "I shall use Darren's spear, and it will taste the giant's blood. It is all I can do to avenge my friend." Berret placed a hand on Darren's soldier, and gave the wounded fighter a sincere smile.

Darren smiled, "I'd be honored if you were to slay the beast in my name, friend. Just remember that your life is more important than my revenge."

Berret nodded, "Then it is settled," he marched towards Zyx until he was only inches away from the half-demon, "It shall be I who slays the giant, the killing blow is mine! You best not try and steal it, bastard." Berret spat at Zyx, still angry with the mercenary over their previous scuffle.

Zyx frowned and leaned close to Berret and whispered, "If you can live long enough to take that killing blow, then by all means, it is yours. But I warn you, the path the the giant's lair is sure to be treacherous. Make one misstep, and you may not make it back to town." The mercenary leaned back and turned from Berret, "Yes well, the more the merrier. As I was saying before, shall we be off?" Zyx nodded his head to his impish familiar, who was currently busying himself with checking the contents of people's pockets, and the black little fiend scurried over to his master, scrutinizing the hodge-podge of a party Zyx had formed as he waited for the group to begin the hunt.

[The Writing Writer]

" Jacob! Please! Don't! Jacob I love- "

A sickening grin crept across the Mad Poet's face as he pressed a rusted blade into the foul wench's throat. Even as blood sprayed from her open neck, covering his face and teeth, he continued to grin. Her gargled words fell upon deaf ears. The sound of Jacob's own beating heart was all he could here. It grew louder and louder with each beat, filling his veins with adrenaline.

Thump. Thump. Thump. THUMP. THUMP!

Jacob awoke with a start. The ground beneath him shook violently. Something was quaking the very earth. It had to be the giant. Seemingly just as the thought had entered his head, Jacob spotted a gargantuan foot looming overhead, descending rapidly towards Jacob. The Writer fumbled clumsily to his feet and leaped out of the way, barely evading the crushing weight of the massive man.

As the giant's foot met with the ground beneath it, a shock wave radiated outward, sending rocks, dirt and The Writer himself into the air, if only for a brief moment. The Writer stumbled and rolled across the ground until eventually coming to a halt in a patch of fallen leaves. Still disoriented, Jacob swiftly looked up to the giant, hoping that the over sized creature had not seen him and had just passed over him by coincidence. Fortunately, the giant seemed to be looking ahead, and not down. Jacob was safe, for now.

The Mad Poet brought himself to his feet and began following the creature once again. It was still warm outside, despite the absence of the sun. The muggy air only exacerbated the awful stench of the creature. It was comparable only to a pig pen of the most foul variety. It was a new kind of stink, the likes of which had never crept up the Writer's nostrils before...not pleasant.

Keeping pace with the creature took considerable effort on Jacob's part. Avoiding the branches and stones of the forest was a feat all it's own- avoiding them at night was an entirely different matter. The moon did shine brightly, but it was a dim light, hardly fit for a quickened pace. More than once Jacob found his face pressed against a low-hanging branch, shredding away small bit's of skin. What a nuisance.

After several minutes of pursuit, the giant seemed to have reached his destination. The creature had unwittingly led Jacob to his mountainous lair. A massive open cavern was an ideal place for a giant to take shelter. Jacob watched from the trees as the creature made his way to it's home. The giant dropped to all fours and crawled into the darkness of the cave. The Mad Poet didn't dare venture into the beat's lair alone. Though Jacob was annoyed with his current situation, at least he now knew where the creature's home was. Advantage: The Writing Writer.

[Oushi]

Unfortunately, Real Life stole Ksarh from us, so he won't be participating in this RP. We can't think of an IC reason why Ksarh would suddenly leave after just joining, we're just going to pretend he never joined the RP. I am, however, going to steal the NPC he created.

A quick check of their equipment, a few goodbyes to their family members, and the party was off to the Jagged Mountains, the cheers of the town behind them. Zyx took the lead, the others followed behind at their own pace, Berret was sure to keep a close watch on Zyx from the back of the group; not trusting the half-demon, wanting to avoid any more tension. Zyx had set Kmoidryrk on the task of running ahead the group, looking for anything that may disrupt their progress.

Kmoidryrk scampered emerged from a bush, a dead rabbit in his blood-red fangs, "'Ord za dy gymm drod r'zor?" He asked in his demonic tongue, gesturing to Berret. Zyx grinned at his familiar's enthusiasm, but shook his head, "Ry, mad'k 'oyd 'rdym 'a vyrj dra Kyord." Kmoidryrk nodded his head and grinned widely, his crimson fangs glimmering in the moonlight, and streaked off into the dark forest, blending into the darkness in a matter of seconds.

The crimson clothed warrior stepped up to Zyx, "Tell me, why do you want to fight this giant? Is it the gold, or perhaps the glory? I've got my eyes set on that giant pile of gold that awaits us."

Zyx rubbed his chin, "I suppose the gold is quite the reward, and the fame isn't a bad prize either." A smirk formed on Zyx's lips, "I'm only going in order to mock that Darren; I could defeat a giant blindfolded. I only brought you two along so I could eat you in case we get lost and can't find any game."

The warrior's eyes widened in shock, but before he could do anything foolish, Zyx wrapped an arm around the man, "I'm only joking, friend. You're all going to return back to your families in one piece. Besides, I'd never eat a living, breathing comrade of mine." Zyx laughed. The warrior slowly backed away from Zyx, deciding that better company could be found with Berret.

As the night grew darker, the parties fatigue grew as well. Berret spoke up from the back of the group, his voice weary, "I believe we ought to stop and rest, we wouldn't want to stumble upon the Giant when we're too tired to keep our eyes open."

Zyx turned around, "I refuse to stop until I'm sure we're close. I don't want this Giant to run off wi-Oof!" Zyx stumbled unceremoniously into the dirt and grass. The tiny black claws of Kmoidryrk hoisted Zyx up onto his knees. Zyx coughed and brushed the dirt form his face, "What happened?" he asked, looking around at his surroundings. Berret stepped up, "Huh, looks like...a footprint?"

Zyx got up and got a better view of the area, "Huh, I suppose it is a footprint. A bigger one I haven't seen since my childhood." Indeed, a gargantuan footprint was in the ground, waiting for a party to stumble upon it, "Well then, I suppose we know that the Giant can't be far. May we rest now?" Berret asked again,and this time he received a nod of approval from Zyx.

After some preparation, a little camp had been built. The party laid their mats by the fire and nestled into them, getting much needed rest for the day ahead. Everyone, that is, except for the crimson warrior. Zyx argued that, being the most well-equipped, the warrior would be best suited for keeping watch over the group as they got their rest, and after receiving a promise that after a few hours he would be allowed a chance to rest, he, albeit reluctantly, agreed.

And so the crimson warrior sat, enjoying to heat of the fire on his back as he kept an eye out for anyone who would disturb the camp. At first things went well the only sound was the soft crackling of the fire, there was the occasional rustling of leaves, but the warrior paid them no mind, assuming they were a tiny animal wandering about. He kept himself busy with thoughts of what he would do with that vast fortune, all he'd have to do is wait in the back lines while the other two took down the giant, and that reward would be his. As night progressed, however, things took a turn for the worse for the soldier. As he glanced over the group, he noticed that the black little imp that had been following them around had suddenly disappeared. He had been frightened of it ever since he caught of a glimpse of it's bloody fangs, and the thought of it prowling about in the cover of darkness did nothing to quell those fears. He hummed nervously to himself, every little sound startled him. The fearless looking warrior was reduced to a scared little child, all he could hope for was that his shift would be over soon, and he could retire to the safety of his dreams.

[The Writing Writer]

A giant man would present giant sized problems, even for one so clever and so quick as The Writing Writer. But a group? A company of fellows? This was not an idea the Mad Poet enjoyed. While he was partial to the many games he played with those who called themselves sane, it would certainly go against his nature to work with such people, even to reach an end all his own. Still, desperate times...

It had been about an hour since Jacob had witnessed the monstrous man take refuge within his cave. The moon had shifted in the sky, but still shined as brightly as before. The cloudless sky was not as cloudless as it had been an hour ago. Tiny puffs tumbled and morphed into various shapes, dancing in front of the moon, taunting it with their mobility. But...wait- they weren't clouds. It was smoke. Billows of smoke were rising out of the forest. They weren't very far off either. Curious that someone would be camping in this area. Surely the locals would have known that this was the giant's territory...unless of course, it was a hunting party.

Jacob set off in the direction of the smoke, keeping a brisk but relaxed pace. Enough skin had been shredded from his face already. The Writer's run did not take long. After just a few moments, the dim glow of the fire came into view. Jacob slowed his pace, and began crawling as silently as his limbs would allow. Closer he crept, his body just inches above the forest floor. The Mad Poet was filled with excitement as he neared the fire, his signature grin forcing itself onto his face. He was able to make out several figures strewn about the small clearing, all surrounding the fire. All lay silent but one, who was no doubt charged with guard duty.

The Writer continued to close in on the camp, his cherry blossom eyes locked on he who was awake. Jacob was close enough now to make out the details of the guard. Chestnut hair, clad in armor and painted in crimson, the guard was no doubt a trained warrior, or simply a show off. The look on the man's face certainly was not that of a trained warrior. His face depicted the image of a coward. He trembled in fear. Fear of what, The Writer couldn't be sure. Perhaps of the giant. If that were the case, perhaps the warrior had best not come into the giant's territory.

The Mad Poet found himself tickled by the warrior's cowardice. A quiet, whispering laughter seethed out between the Writer's clenched teeth. What was once a whisper began to grow all the more audible as Jacob continued to gaze upon the warrior's terrified face. Soon The Mad Poet found himself roaring with maniacal laughter. There was obviously no more point in hiding.

Jacob crept out of the darkness that had once concealed him and stood within the fire's glow, his alabaster skin glowing in such a way that the moon herself might have been envious. As he continued to laugh, the Writer rose to his feet and addressed the crimson warrior with a mocking tone.

" Heheheh... Such a waist, all that iron and steel,
When not even your face does it conceal.
You hide your fear as well as I hide my mind,
And the shattered mirror that is behind.

What is it you fear, oh cowardly man?
Is it the giant that wanders about these lands?
Or is it something worse? Something...like me?
A man who whose madness runs freely... "

The Mad Poet's laughter quieted down a bit, but his smile was ever present. His piercing, glowing eyes remained steadfast, never shifting from the crimson warrior's face. Jacob eagerly awaited his response, whether it be with words or with steel.