Senior Member
EXP: 8,121, Level: 3
Level completed: 79%,
EXP required for next Level: 879
Dragged across the jungle grasses, sluggishly but surely, Yvonne kicked and thrashed to free herself from the stubborn plant. The grey dwarf was a denser, heavier feed than it was accustomed to, but her size would be just so when it came time to gobble her down. If the carnivore-herb had eyes they would have been bulging with anticipation. If it had a tongue it would have licked its trigger bristles. In place of such a tongue was a major organ that appeared almost identical to one of its long vines - but thicker, sinewy - and it was retracting back down its stem-throat, drawing its sustenance ever closer.
Yvonne's black leather boots were the entrée. She couldn't kick anymore - the tendrils were too tight. Squeezed inside its maw, decomposing secretions very gradually began to dissolve the leather. Yelling at the grappler obviously wasn't having much effect on it - plants don't speak with the likes of dwarves - however she did achieve the attention of a stranger who looked to be human at a glance. A red-headed lass - younger, taller, stronger, braver than she was - had arrived to save her, brandishing her blade.
Ohh, thank all that glitters golden...
The gigantic fly-trap predicted the warrior's imminent sword swipe, pre-emptively clutching her saviour by the neck and hoisting them aloft.
Ohh, curses on ya seedy sproutlings!
The hungry plant was getting to its main course, Yvonne's sable legs, the harsh secretions the first hint of how painful this was going to be. The sel darthirii-dwarf gritted her teeth, struggling feebly against her constrictions, ignoring the pain as best she could. This really wasn't how she had imagined her own death, but here she was, on the brink.
Fire seethed into existance beneath her, materialized from nothing but air, erupting up the stem of the murder-blossom. A piercing, hair-raising shriek stabbed her ears, impaled her mind as the deadly-vegie writhed in fiery, scorching torment. Yvonne would have pressed her hands to ears, the sound was so shrill and slicing, if her arms weren't strangled by vines. The plant let go - practically spat her out into a mucus mess on the grass - had enough. The magic-fire spread quickly, burning up the predator in a matter of seconds, leaving naught but smoke and ashes. The grey dwarf didn't know who was more horrified, the fly-trap or herself.
A familiar voice chimed in, jingling in her ears, "Please dun die on me. I still need the other half of your pay." It was the dheathian fae guide, returned from gods-know-where to collect his coin.
"I had one condition, ONE..." Yvonne seemed to be yelling a lot today, clearly on edge, incensed and afraid, "...and that condition be nae magic spells. Did ye uphold yer end of our agreement, fae?" Her breaths were deep, swift, rapid as she left the question hanging.
She was hyperventilating. The Alerar-born's phobia of magic had come to the fore, her silver eyes wide with dread over the little creature and his sorcery. "Of course not! Ye could've set me ablaze! What would ye have done then? Magicked up a stormcloud and rainy downpour over me head?! I could've been permanently magically scarred!" In, out, in, out, her breathing was getting carried away. Yvonne's hands frantically untied the coin pouch from her belt, fumbling from fluster, finally loosening it. Once she had it free she threw the purse at the fae, socking him one in the belly. "Keep yer hexes to yerself."
The fae sputtered, speechless.
"Ye and I be done. Thank ye for bringin' me this far. I'll find me own way to Donnalaich now." Hurriedly the grey dwarf shouldered her backpack and quiver, swooping up her crossbow as she turned on a heeled boot. Decisively, she just picked a direction, truthfully not having more than a cursory idea of where the fae city was.
Yvonne looked the disarmed warrior woman square in the eyes as she approached, and walked by her. The pupils of her silver eyes were dilated with a fight or flight response, fear plain as day. The grey dwarf couldn't hide it, not after her royal tantrum that unfolded before the saviour-to-be. She couldn't keep it from her face or features, so instead she tried to wear it proudly, back straight, puffing up her chest as she passed her by. Keeping her gaze steady, her expression still very distraught, she offered the human an apology, "I'm sorry ye got tangled up in all this."
How embarrassing. Yvonne tried to avoid letting her get a word in and kept on walking.
Last edited by Yvonne; 05-05-2018 at 07:23 AM.
So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
Singing this will be my victory.
Then I, I see them coming after me.
And they’re following me across the sea.
And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
~ Thrice, Black Honey.
