Boar in the street

[Templum]

Closed for Culix (again).

Really long background, not necessary to RP against, but necessary to understand why Quietus as Boar acts the way he does. The part involving the other RPer begins after the ~~~ line.

Outside of Radasanth live the true suppliers of the city. Farmers, hunters and peasants are a vital, if mundane, part of the cities existence. For the most part, their lives are simple and uneventful. However, at times something intrudes upon their peaceful existence. Such was the case in the fields and woods on the outskirts of eastern Radasanth.

Evidence began appearing two weeks ago: a broken fence, an overturned feeding trough, and the heavy, hoofed tracks of wild boar.

Initially the villagers did not worry. Animals passed through frequently, sometimes caused some damage, but it was not a large concern. But after a week the boar was still around, prowling at night, and grew more aggressive. Some small farm animals were killed, gored by the boars tusks. Now the villager worried, knowing that an aggressive animal will grow bolder and bolder until it is stopped.

The boar’s attacks grew more vicious and the victims larger, no longer a chicken or small sheep, the boar attacked a herd of cattle, injuring several and killing one full grown bull. Action had to be taken before a son or daughter became the next victim.

It was a nervous evening as the men of the village gathered to form a hunting party. Each had seen the damage the boar could do and had his own guess of how big the creature might be. Demon possession was the popular explanation for the boar’s aggressiveness, adding to the fear of the night.

But the men were prepared. Some held long hunting spears with thick shafts and heavy heads that could withstand the force of a charging boar. A few carried heavy longbows. Most of the men carried torches, unlit in the waning light of dusk. A few carried hunting horns to help communicate in the darkness and pursue in the hunt. A group of skilled riders tightened the girths of their horses, prepared to give chase it the boar should run.

The bait was set out in an open field to lure the boar into a position where the men could attack it. No trap could contain a beast of this size. This battle would come down to the strength and speed of the boar against the wit and courage of men.

With plans set, the men spread out and hid around the bait. And then the waiting began.

They didn’t have to wait long.

Within an hour of darkness a large shape began shuffling through the field, sniffing and rooting toward the bait.

Each man prepared to light his torch, flint in hand. A horn sounded, signaling the springing of the trap. Torches around the field lit and men charged from hiding, quickly surrounding the boar. Archers quickly began loosing arrows at the boar, hoping to bring the beast down, but the thick, calloused hide and heavy hair deflected the shafts, the strikes doing little but angering the beast.

A circle forms around the trapped beast and the flickering light of the torches reveals what a monster it is. The beast stood half as tall as any man and twice as long as it was tall. Although it was impossible to tell exactly how much it weighed in the shifting light, no one would doubt it weighed at least 500 pounds.

Note: These are accurate measurements for an unusually large feral pig/wild boar

Most frightening was the shining white tusks. Slightly longer than half a foot, the white bone of the tusks caught the light, highlighting the razor sharp edges. Each and every man had seen the damage those tusks had done to the cattle and prayed that when the boar charged, those tusks would be pointed in a direction beside his own.

Finally, one of the archers achieved a direct hit, the area thudding solidly into the hindquarters of the beast. The pain sent the beast into a rage. It spun quickly around the circle, selected a target, and charged. Strange as it may seem to the outside observer, this was exactly the farmers’ intentions. Only the boar itself would produce enough force to drive a spear point through its thick skin.

The boar chose its target well, one of the smaller, younger men of the party. There was fear in his eyes as he braced the butt of his spear against his foot, directing the point at the charging boar. The boar would not change direction, it was not in their nature to shift or dodge, it would try to run the man over and gore him on its way past. Only the spear would stop the beast.

The rest of the men could only watch as the inevitable collision approached, preparing to follow up the initial impact. However, the clash never came. Just before reaching the man, the boar stumbled in a divot, careening to the side. Rather than a clean, stopping blow to the center of the boar, the spear point grazed the side of the animal as the young farmer fell away, narrowly avoiding being trampled. The spear point opened a long cut along the beasts side but did not bringing it down.

The boar continued running, despite the injury, intent on escape. Now the riders came into play, chasing after the boar on horseback, blowing their horns so the others could follow.

The boar plowed through the woods, hounded by the pursuers. It tried to turn away, but the riders herded with horse and spear toward a valley nearby, the mob of farmers on foot giving chase as quickly as possible. Soon the beast found itself cornered once again in the back of a narrow canyon. The horsemen block the entrance while the crowd moves in once again. The archers open fire once more, this time with greater effect as the boar has nowhere to move to avoid the shots. Several shafts sink into the boar, one into the neck, obviously wounding it. The boar shudders once, crouches, and with all the rage and fear within it, it charges. This time there is no escape. A spear head sinks into the boars neck, just below his head, stopping him dead in his tracks.

The farmers cheer, relieved that they have escaped unscathed and slain the beast. They gather around the corpse and say a quick prayer to dispel the lingering demon that caused the beast to become aggressive. They then tie the boar up, hoisting it on a spear. The meat would provide a great feast for the village tomorrow.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The beast was dead, that was certain, but its existence continued in an indirect way. In the moments before the final charge, drawn by the powerful fear and rage of the cornered boar, the silent, formless being of Quietus floated over the lip of the valley, dropping onto the great beast below. For a moment, two being occupy one body as the boar’s image is imprinted onto the blank energy of Quietus. As quickly as it came, Quietus sped from the scene.

Initially, there was no evidence of Quietus’ passing. Then, slowly, swirling bits of leaves, branches, and dust formed a small cloud, traveling through the forest. The cloud slowly expands as larger rocks, chunks of clay, and larger sticks were sucked into the swirling vortex. Soon a substantial cloud had formed, speeding down a roadway toward Radasanth. The force of Quietus’ formative will pulled young saplings up at the roots, pulling them into the nebulous mass. A wagon, long broken and forgotten, lay by the side of the road. The cloud pauses for a moment over the wagon, rusted iron wheels and fragments of wood tearing apart and adding to the tornado of materials.

Drawn to the powerful mental energy of the city, Quietus moves toward the city, dragging the mass of materials along. Slowly the materials break down, reforming as the imprint of the boar begins to manifest itself. The cloud reaches the city gates, tearing past the guards who are forced to hide behind their shields to protect themselves from the flying pieces of debris.

Racing along the street, Quietus comes to a crowded market. The concentration of mental energy and materials causes Quietus to pause as the final steps of formation take place. The area is thrown into disarray as the materials are sucked into the vortex. A heavy rope, pieces of jewelry, even a sword from a nearby smith are all hurled through the air. Noise overwhelms, crashes of fleeing people, rocks and wood smash into one another in the cloud, women scream, and the wind whips through the crowd, howling in the air. The cloud continues to expand, stretching from one side of the street to the other at its largest.

Suddenly, there is a last, great gasp as all the materials rush together, particles slamming against one another and merging. As quickly as chaos ensued, silence reigned as the crowd calmed and focused on the forming lump that now rested in the center of the street. Within seconds the shape of a boar was recognizable, though this was unlike any boar seen before.

The body is mostly hard clay, covered in thin, scaly rocks. Strands of rope and torn fabric formed a patchwork coat of fur sprouting from between the rough skin of stone. A skeleton of compressed wood gives the body rigidity and shape and a stoney spine runs along his back.

Though this is all very unusual, most of the crowds attention is focused on the head of the beast. Flesh, torn from the carcass of a deer in the woods, partially covers the face, dark clay fills in the spaces. The eyes of the deer, altered and reformed to fit the boars skull, peer lifelessly from the sockets.

Just as in nature, the tusks are most riveting. The left tusk is brown and rough, the iron of the broken wagon forming a hard but blunt horn. The right tusk is a study in contrast, gleaming with the razor sharp steel of the enveloped sword and inlaid with the gold and precious stones of jewelry.

All is silent as the lifeless, now recognizable hulk lies in the street, all eyes fixed on the strange sight. The body shudders for a moment in a massive inhalation, the breath audible to all the curious watchers as Quietus animates the dead husk into its living self. The beast staggers to his feet, life gleaming in the eyes and air rushing into whatever lungs it contained within.

Quietus has become Boar.

Please check out my profile before replying so you understand what has happened. Also, understand that Quietus as Boar is a boar, he won’t talk to you or anything like that, he has the intelligence, instincts, and physical abilities of the boar described in the background.

Note: This battle WAS fought once before, against Culix, but that was before the crash and it was lost. For many reasons, I am using the same opening post as last time.

[Culix]

A discarded apple rolled along the street. Though it had a few abrasions, dulling the moonlight that shone off its surface, the skin of the small fruit had not yet broken. The slightly stronger kick the young man gave it indicated this was beginning to irritate him. "Stupid villagers..." he mumbled, his foot again sending the small red thing bounding over the cobblestones. This time, it made a soft squishing sound as it landed, and rolled to reveal that the boy's inefficient method had finally begun to peel it. It cheered him up a little, but not by much.

Earlier that day, Jannin had been passing by the hamlet near Radasanth, perhaps hoping it might contain one of those helpful wise men he'd always heard about, when he'd caught wind of their boar troubles. Once he saw the sheer number of men planning to head out on the hunt, the lad did a few quick calculations, nodded, and made a declaration: "Attention, rustics! You don't hafta risk your lives! Simply put one gold piece each inta my hand, and I'll be more than happy to take out your giant piggy. I'll even tell ya where I left the body, in case you wanna make some of those greasy entrail dishes you people like." The child's free time that evening was as plentiful as his tact wasn't. So if he could turn a profit from what he considered a trivial task, all the better. But, while some of the meaner-spirited hunters briefly considered taking him up on it, all of them knew the beast needed to be dealt with as quickly as possible. They had no time for the games of a small boy with a bauble-topped staff. They gave him stony glares and told him to go home before they marched out.

Jerks... Jannin gave the apple another kick. He'd stayed a while after their departure, feeling insulted and embarrassed. The young mage returned to the city just before sun set, but didn't feel like returning to his inn. He began wandering the streets, taking his feelings out on the first unfortunate piece of produce that happened to cross his path. However, deep down, he knew the rejection wasn't really what had gotten to him. The lad faced doubt on a regular basis; if anything, it provided the incentive of rubbing his victory in the faces of those with such little faith. No, there was something more about this scenario. Why did I leave? I could've just crept behind and really showed 'em up! The idea simply hadn't occurred to him until it was too late to act.

What's wrong with me? Jannin demanded, kicking the fruit one more time. One last time, as it turned out. It careened out of the alley and into the city's market. It might have tickled the small red object's original peddler to know that, after falling from his cart and lying in the street all day, it had eventually make its way to the market. However, he was a tad preoccupied at the time. That merchant's eyes, as well as every other pair, were locked on the strange cyclone of clutter that had just spun its way into the area. The child stood transfixed near the mouth of the alley, all concern about himself on indefinite hiatus. What the--? Curious, he watched with all the other onlookers as the the chaotic conglomerate began to flow together. I've never read about anything like this before... What's it gonna do? He wouldn't have long to wait.

[Templum]

The boar trembles for a moment as the will and energy of Quietus acclimates to the body, fully integrating with Boar before opening his eyes to survey the scene.

Stalls filled with fruit, trinkets, and bolts of cloth line the streets. The bright canvas awnings give color to the grays and browns of the street. Faces turn toward the center of the street as people press against the booths and merchants seek protection behind the thin walls of their stalls.

Under normal circumstances, the situation may have been resolved without destruction or violence. Animals for the most part are not aggressive toward humans and would sooner not cause trouble. However, Boar’s imprinting from a frightened, injured, and enraged wild boar created an unnatural creature, overly aggressive with a disposition toward violence. Glancing around the street, Boar does not see frightened people who present no threat. Instead he sees the angry faces of hunters surrounding him, prodding at him with spears. To a cornered beast, there is only one real option. He charges.

Turning to the nearest side of the street Boar stamps his stone hoofed foot once before lowering his head and bounding toward the crowd gathered there. The crowd scatteres, diving out of the way of the threatening tusks. Boar arrests his charge, stone hooves skidding across cobblestone. His momentum carries him into the booth of a potter, smashing the thin wooden walls and collapsing the awning. Ceramic and clay pots smash on the street as Boar struggles to free himself from the tangle of ropes and canvas.

Bolting from the wreckage of the first booth, Boar clips the pole supporting a second awning weighted down with iron pots and pans. The pole snaps and the weight of the heavy iron pulls the canopy to the ground in a crash as Boar extracts himself from the wreckage to re-occupy the rapidly clearing street.

The inhabitants of the street go from frightened but curious to full fledged panic in an instant as they realize the danger that Boar poses. People scream and begin running, trying to escape into the side alleys. The noise and motion antagonize Boar even further as he pauses in the center of the street, hoofing the ground, searching for his own escape.

[Culix]

A... boar? Jannin thought, once the bits of matter had coalesced into the recognizable shape. The newly constructed beast rose and, giving a brief warning stomp, charged ahead in a rage. Most of the people in the area had just gone out for an evening stroll, or to do some shopping away from the afternoon crowds. One man had planned to purchase a ham, but decided the porcine image of ferocity bearing down on him meant he should probably settle for a salad. With this in mind, he as well as most other civilians threw themselves out of its path and fled the scene. They were joined in this exodus by a number of merchants, grateful that their shops had so far been spared.

Many of these frightened individuals hurried past Jannin as the loud crash of a stall's destruction and the shattering of various ceramic pieces reached the lad's ears. Oye... That stuff looked expensive. Wonder how much it cost... He was denied his answer when the stall's owner ran past, the lamentations about his loss drowned out by the unscheduled demolition of his neighbor's stand and the clattering of iron cookware. Well... At least he's got his health.

As Jannin calmly made these observations, several of the passing civilians and merchants gave him peculiar looks as they hurried on. After all, in the midst of a crisis, gawking at the damage done was usually frowned upon. To the boy's credit, he was also sizing up the monstrosity. As it returned to the center of the street, illuminated by two torches miraculously not extinguished by the whirlwind of debris, the beast's appearance made very clear that it was not to be toyed with. Even ignoring the creature's deadly tusks, at a height just below the lad's chest, the boar outweighed him by over 400 pounds and had a uniquely composed hide that would be impervious to blows from his staff.

Added to that, Jannin felt a strange reluctance to fight the pseudobeast, a reluctance transcending its physical abilities; the situation had a certain discouraging familiarity about it. Nevertheless, he shrugged this off and smiled. Heh... I guess the universe really wants me to crush a giant boar today. He began to approach it with an air of smugness. That'll show those stupid villagers. Just gotta figure out how to--

"What are you doing?" a voice suddenly demanded, surprising and halting the boy. He looked around in confusion for a moment. A lone guard had stepped into the area, apparently addressing everyone. By that time, this included Jannin and the few brave or stupid merchants still trying to salvage some of their stock. The guard moved into the boar's line of sight and readied his lance as these last few hurried off. He had no experience hunting wild boar and doubted he'd be able to slay the beast. The man simply hoped his partner would be swift enough in gathering reinforcements.

Oh... Jannin thought, his spirits deflating as he stepped back into the alley. I guess he'll take care of it... I should stay out of the way. With a sad frown, he slinked back into the alley. It then occurred to him that he had gone from 'utterly despondent' to 'brimming with confidence' and back again in record time. That can't be right... The boy's expression became a puzzled frown with furrowed brow. He'd leave things to the guard until he'd solved his own problem.

[Templum]

Malek Tern had joined the Radasanthian Guard when he was eighteen with delusional hopes of achieving glory and fame as the protector of Radasanth. This morning he had nearly convinced himself that there was no glory or adventure in being a Radasanthian guard. No army or warlord, no matter how brave, would ever be foolish enough to attack Radasanth. The place was chocked full of the greatest warriors in the land, all gathered in one place for the services of the mighty Citadel. While occasionally there were strange magical disturbances and isolated instances of vampires or other disturbing and powerful creatures, the mages and Ai’Brone monks always dealt with these threats, encouraging the Guard to “Make the people feel safe and keep your eyes open.”

In fact, when it came down to it, Malek’s Guard duties for the last 7 years consisted of regulating traffic, opening and closing the gate for night, aiding citizens with emergencies like fires or sickness, and on occasion chasing down and arresting a petty thief. Hardly the stuff of legends. Even recent rumors of the rise of a criminal group outside of the Syndicate, known as the Illicit Entrepreneurs, did nothing to stir Malek’s blood as he was certain someone else would get the glory in their inevitable defeat.

All that changed when a calamitous cloud of dust blew through Malek’s gate just minutes ago.

After the miniature tornado passed, Malek grabs his lance and takes off at a run, yelling over his shoulder to Horton Mikat, the sleepy old guardsmen who had watched the gate since before Malek was born.

“Rouse the Guard!! I’ll slow it down!!”

Horton shrugs and mutters as he ambles off, trying to remember just exactly how he was supposed to rouse the guard.

“Brave kid…hmmm……grmff…”

Following Quietus is not difficult. A trail of tossed and turned destruction lays down a clear path, not to mention the shocked stares of people along the road. While the initial excitement and adrenaline still fill his body, Malek begins considering that he has no idea how he is going to slow down the apparition, he doesn’t even know what it might have been.

Forget it…just go and figure it out on the way. FOR GLORY!!

Screams and the tramping of feet tell Malek he is onto something. He pushes against the flow of people streaming down an alley, nearly flattening a small child with a funny looking staff before arriving at the main street. He yells at the people, trying to force his way through.

Boar stands in the middle of the street, sensing the fear in the mob as it disperses. With the thinning crowd, Boar ses an opportunity to escape as the last of the merchants escape down an alley. Boar takes several steps toward the alley just as Malek breaks through the crowd, blocking his path with lance and shield. This presents a problem to Boar. With Malek so close, he doesn’t have room to build up speed for a charge. After a brief moment of confusion, Boar takes a step away from Malek to prepare a charge.

Malek, for reasons beyond his own bravery, takes a step forward, maintaining the narrow distance between himself and Boar.

Boar is again surprised and confused. He is the biggest beast in the woods, other animals were supposed to fear him, flee from him. But this, this aggressiveness is unfamiliar to the simple mind of Boar. Unable to formulate anything more complex, Boar tries his plan again, taking a step back and lowering his head to charge.

Malek keeps pace with him, his confidence increasing, not giving Boar room to put his monstrous body into motion.

HA HA…see…I can handle this. The creature is scared of me, as well he should be. You don’t mess with the Radasnthian Guard!

Malek now becomes aggressive, yelling at Boar.

“Back foul vermin!! Back to the pit of hell from whence you came!!”

Malek emphasizes his point with a quick thrust of his lance. The steel head meets Boar’s iron tusk with a dull clang, causing Boar to retreat another step.

Malek has quickly gone from unsure and frightened to aggressive and confident as he backs boar across the street, thrusting hard at Boar’s face, who continues to give ground. Boar stumbles slightly, his hard hooves slipping on the cobblestone street. The uncertainty sends him into full retreat as he backs quickly away from Malek until he bumps into a stall on the far side of the street, dislodging a pile of apples and oranges that scatter to the ground around him, producing a series of soft thuds. Malek pursues, not realizing the danger of cornering a beast. He thrusts confidently at Boar’s face. With no room to retreat, Boar strikes back at the spear, swinging his tusks and deflecting the blow. Malek, in his heroic glee, doesn’t notice the sudden change in attitude. Another thrust at the cornered beast, this shot aimed at his right shoulder. Boar again succeeds deflecting the attack with his tusks, but only partially. The tip of the lance pushes aside flakes of stone as it pierces the muddy flesh. The wound is insignificant, barely a prick to the massive body of Boar. But even a needle prick causes pain and Boar’s response is immediate.

Any confusion or situational uncertainty gives way to raw aggression fueled by fear and pain. His head swings away from his shoulder as he lunges forward, lowering his head, leading with the lethal tusks.

As often occurs in high action situations, time seems to slow for Malek. IN the brief moment before Boar’s impact, Malek realizes that he is not a hero. He further realizes that he is not even that skilled of a spearman and has no idea how he ever planned on dispatching some sort of artificially constructed monster over twice his size. His final realization is that there was no way he was going to stop this charge, but he did his best by lowering his shield in front of the scything tusks.

Though hardly heroic, this last action probably saves Malek’s life. The steel tusk on Boar’s head punched cleanly through the wooden shield, affixing it to Boar’s head and pushing the base of the shield into Malek’s feet. Rather than taking the full force of the charge, Malek finds himself airborne, tumbling over Boar’s back, bouncing hard off the stony spine. His left shoulder twists painfully before the leather straps holding the shield to his arm gives way. Malek falls heavily to the ground as Boar passes completely underneath him.

This leaves Malek hurt, but alive. However, Boar finds himself in a new predicament. The shield, still skewered by the sharp tusk, has slipped over Boar’s eyes, rendering him momentarily blind. With nothing else to do, he continued his charge, flailing his head to remove the shield. The force of his powerful neck quickly overcomes the integrity of the shield as it crackes from end to end around the horn before hurling through the air to shatter against one of the buildings. With his sight restored, Boar realizes too late that he has nearly crossed the street and is nearing the opposite row of booths. He plants all four hooves, trying unsuccessfully to stop. He slams into yet another stall, fragments of wood and various cooking utensils flying through the air.

The stall collapses in a heap, hiding Boar from view as his momentum carries him into the small alley between the shops and buildings. For a moment the street is quiet once again as Malek struggles to raise himself up, using his shattered lance as support.

Perhaps the beast has ended itself…

Malek’s wishful thinking is quickly dispelled as an adjacent stall, specializing in watermelons, explodes from behind. Boar has figured out that the booths are much weaker than he is and takes full advantage of this fact as he re-establishes himself in the street. Now there are no thoughts of escape, only violence against the one that wounded him. Fragments of wood from the booths have scraped away at the clay flesh of Boar’s flanks, exposing the boughs of small trees, shaped to form a ribcage. In his enraged state, Boar ignores any pain the injuries may have caused.

Like the calm before the storm, Boar pauses. The only sound is the scrape of his hoof as he stamps the ground, eyes fixed on the struggling Malek as Boar prepares to charge.

[Permission given to Culix to bunny the charge]

[Culix]

Many people who have studied the human mind agree that overcoming one's trepidation, intense feelings of helplessness, and mood swings is an arduous process that usually requires one or more licensed professionals and several years' time. Jannin had never heard this, but if he had, he would have declared it a load of hooey. Further, he would have taken it as a personal challenge and begun casting out all his inner demons, pronouncing himself a picture of mental health inside of half an hour. As it was, the desire for action proved motivation enough and he set to work.

Alright, the boy thought, deciding how to wrap his mind around the problem amid the sounds of splintering wood. It seemed best to define what exactly the problem was. Let's see... Guys with pointy sticks tell me to stay out of the way, then they go after boars while I get depressed and meek. Hmm... He leaned against a granite wall. Looking at that boar thing makes me feel kind of uneasy, too... It's weird... Almost like deja vu... But that can't be. I've never fought anything like an artificial boar bef-- He paused. Artificial... Like a golem... Like Thoracis's golem...

The lad shivered. The night was temperate, but merely thinking about the ice mage's name sent a chill down Jannin's spine. It was no secret that he had squared off with the veteran in the first round of that year's Serenti Invitational. Nor was it any surprise to the gamblers that he had lost. Thoracis had outclassed him in every way, eventually creating a weaker opponent for the boy to fight. Even the ice golem had been more of a match, however; Jannin couldn't remember anything about the fight after the living ice sculpture's second attack broke his knee.

It explained a lot. His hesitation around something clearly animated by some mystical force required no explanation. Both the village's hunters and the city's guards were clearly more experienced and better armed for combat than the lad, echoing Thoracis and clarifying Jannin's submission. Of course, while understanding his plight made the boy feel better and restored some confidence, he still wasn't sure he could defeat the boar construct. His spirits were not raised any when the artificial beast in question violently slam into a nearby wall. C'mon, c'mon, c'mon... Think faster!

When the monster emerged from those shops, it again faced Malek. At that moment, the guard's life began to flash before his eyes. When he had passed over the creature's back, he had not only hurt his arm, but also landed awkwardly on his legs. They weren't broken, and he would probably be fine given a few moments. But those few moments seemed beyond him as his presumed executioner stared down its snout at him. The young man had always thought himself a hero, so, facing certain doom, he tried to stand tall and perform one last gallant act. He spied Jannin, still looking uncertain, and called to him, "Kid, get out of here before you get killed."

Malek's words provoked an unexpected emotion: anger. Even lost in thought, the boy had paid enough attention to the guard to form a passing opinion about him: This guy's an idiot. Jannin had no experience with boars, but living near a forest for most of his life had taught him something: cornering a wild animal is an excellent way to dice with death. With that realization, the lad's submission melted away into indignation; the man was clearly no Thoracis, so who was he to tell Jannin what to do?

Enraged, the boy did something reckless: he bolted out of the alley, and hoisted himself onto the animal's back. The great beast didn't even seem to notice its surprise passenger. Given the boar's great rage, this was understandable. It merely stamped the ground with a hoof once more, let out a snort, and charged. As it moved, Jannin became aware that the cold surface of stone and clay made for the least comfortable riding conditions of his life. To keep from falling off, he grabbed hold of its neck. Again, it failed to notice. Boar was unable to ignore what the lad did next, however. He clutched his staff tightly and brought it into position to trip one of the beast's forelegs.

Letting out a surprised grunt, it stumbled and teetered over. Once he felt the creature's girth beginning to shift, the boy pushed off and leaped away to its left, leaving the pseudoboar to drag along the streets. The pool of practical combat knowledge Jannin possessed was indeed a shallow one, but it contained one very useful nugget of wisdom: when trying to roll after a fall, be sure to tuck in the head and arms to keep fractures to a minimum. With this in mind, the mage tumbled along the streets for a moment, coming to a stop with his limbs bruised, but his skull in one piece. ... Oww...

[Templum]

Boar lets out a squealing snort of surprise as his footing, somewhat shaky in the first place owing to the hoof-stone on street-stone combination, was intruded upon by Jannin’s staff. When such a bulky creature is thrown off balance, the result is often dramatically poor for the precarious beast. As his front legs stop their forward motion, Boar’s neck and chin plunge earthward into the cobble. The sudden stoppage of the front half of his body causes his hindquarters to play catch up with the rest of him, lifting into the air before his whole body slams hard into the street. Boar rolls several times before sliding to a stop, the powerful momentum from his charge great enough to carry him a good distance across the street, a streak of mud and clay marking his passage.

For a moment, Boar lies still from surprise and pain. His breath was left well behind, somewhere on the second of several rolls and heavy impacts, and the air gasps into his traumatized body. Once he can breathe again, Boar staggers to his hooves, stumbling further across the street, shaking his head and snorting wildly as blurred vision and pain hinders him.

Unlike the thick fur and tough, pliable skin of an organic boar, Quietus’s animated form is rocky, rigid, and vulnerable. While fur and skin would have allowed for smoother sliding, the rough street has scraped Boar’s left flank clean, exposing a full array of wooden ribs. Several of the boughs show cracks and splintering, interpreted by the mind of Boar as cracked ribs, causing pain at every movement. But, as oxygen flows into artificial lungs, Boar’s head clears a bit and his eyes focus enough to act.

With his vision restored, Boar finds himself barricaded by an array of odd equipment. In reality, his wobbly gait carrying him into a display of gardening tools. Plows and small carts block his right side while racks of shovels, rakes, scythes and picks form a prison like cage to his left. Through the bars he can see Jannin surveying the situation. Angry to find his way blocked by the racks of tools and too disoriented to realize he can simply walk around them, Boar takes a suprisingly innovative approach to clearing this particular barrier. Lowering his head, he hooks his tusks on the underside of the rack and snaps his head upward, lifting the rack from the ground. The collection of tools hurls through the air, separating from the rack to form a swarm of spinning, twisting, implements of injury.

[Culix]

Wincing after his fall, Jannin lay in the street and looked up at the starlit sky. Lousy gravity... I'll get you, someday! As he took several deep breaths, it occurred to him that he had done something stupid. Wait... Maybe not. If I killed it, he reasoned, it could only be a brilliant move. As the boy began to climb to his feet, he turned to his left just in time to see an assortment of gardening tools fly in his direction.

"Gya!" the lad cried. For the second time in as many minutes, he leaped to the streets, landing with less grace than he would have liked. Learn to fall better, he advised himself. A rake and sickle loudly clanged off the streets where his head had rested. Yee... Close one. The mage reflected that he had always thought of boars as little more than bigger, fiercer, hairier pigs. The most recent assault reminded him that pigs weren't exactly the stupidest members of the animal kingdom, so letting down his guard would probably not be the best of plans. Not that letting down my guard would ever be the best of plans, he would have added. He quickly returned to his feet.

Vowing not to let the beast catch him off-guard again, Jannin kept one eye on it as he assessed the situation. A line of rock-strewn mud leading to the pseuod-boar first caught his eye. Alright, I've smeared a bit of the ugly thing on the city streets and now it looks confused. That's a start. He was fortunate all his inhibitions had vanished; as long as he was in the thick of things, they would do him little good. Now, I need to find a way to really hurt it. The lad noticed the beast's exposed wooden bits. Hmm... Those have possibilities. What else've I got to work with?

Surveying the marketplace again reminded Jannin just how much variety the square had to offer. Fruits, painted figurines, inks, perfumes, and spices to name a few of the products for sale outside, and to say nothing of the indoor smith's, baker's, and tailor's offerings. His eyes fell on the market's only remaining pottery stand and he recalled the young woman who had sat there, selling almost all her inventory in spite of her grating tone. The boy had feared his eardrums might burst at her cry of, "Pots! Pots! Get ya'r pots!" Ugh... When the world is mine, I've really gotta make that illegal. There's no reason she couldn't use a sign! Now, her neighbor... She could probably make a job of her voice alone. He smiled at the recollection, despite the dire situation. I wouldn't mind someone like her singin' in my court at all. I wonder why she even bothered selling... As the memory of her offered product struck him, his smile grew to a healthy smirk. A plan began to form.

Malek, meanwhile, had recovered sufficiently from his jostle to stand at the ready. At the ready for what, he wasn't quite sure. The guard had never watched a 'hero' at work, but had always assumed such an individual would handle things fine on his or her own. Then again, he had also assumed such an individual would be a bit taller. As he debated with himself over whether or not to rejoin the fray, it occurred to him that he couldn't do much with a broken shield and a damaged lance. He frowned. I guess I'll just have to watch.

[Templum]

Boar had other plans for the unfortunate city guardsmen. Flinging the assorted gardening implements was more an expression of rage at having his way blocked than a true tactical maneuver. The unexpected effect of actually reaching Jannin gave Boar a chance to briefly explore new possibilities for destruction.

At this moment, Malek had the misfortune of ruining his plans to “just watch” by bumping against the still-unstable piles of fruit, sending several mangoes tumbling to the ground with distinct plopping sounds, drawing Boar’s attention. Spinning quickly, Boar fixed his eyes on Malek, snorting and stalking forward. Now Boar was fearless, recognizing a target he had beaten once already. Though enraged, Boar had learned that charging into the booths seemed to be a poor decision, so he closed slowly, occasionally slashing with his tusks. Malek backed fearfully away from thrusts, dropping his shattered lance as he backed through the booths.

In desperation, Malek began tipping shelves over in front of Boar, trying to slow his progress. Boar’s retaliation against the shelves was swift and effective, the iron and steel of his tusks hurling each successive variety of merchandise as the flimsy wooden constructs shattered in rapid succession at each sweep of his head. Eventually the shelves ran out as Malek reached the end of the market, temporary booths giving way to permanent storefronts. By chance, the popular pub at the edge of the market was replenishing their supply. The workers were halfway through their work before being disrupted by Boar’s appearance. Taking flight with the rest of the crowd, they left several rows of double stacked kegs under the awning of the pub. The stack now formed the second wall of the corner that Malek found himself bottled up in.

Boar paused for a moment, seemingly reveling in his imminent victory over his terrified and weakened foe. Closing for a final assault with his tusks, Boar lunged at Malek’s feet, just as Malek turned to pull himself up to onto the first level of stacked kegs. Rather than tearing into human flesh, Boar’s jewel encrusted steel tusk slammed into the barrel, perforating the container. Boar jerked his head back in surprise, letting flow a spout of ale, spraying for a moment before the weakened barrel collapsed, the amber liquid flowing into the street.

Both Boar and Malek barely missed a beat, Malek scrambling higher onto the stack while Boar renewed his assailment on the barrels. The wooden planks gave way easily, steel tusk puncturing to be followed by the blunt, breaking force of the iron tusk. Boar disregarded the flood of beer that swelled past him, intent on reaching Malek who now stood atop the barrels, watching rows of barrels drop from sight as Boar did his
damage. Soon the barrels ran under the awning, leaving Malek with nowhere to escape to. His panicked gaze fell on Jannin, now a fair distance away.

“HELP ME!! HELP!! GET THIS THING AWAY FROM ME!! HELP!!!!!!”

Another row of barrels is smashed, leaving only one level of protection for Malek before his perch would suffer the wrath of the enraged beast bellow. Boar paused for a moment, glancing up to ensure that his prey was still trapped, before smashing the last bulwark protecting Malek. One more charge and Malek would tumble to the ground at the mercy of Boar.

[Culix]

Jannin stared worriedly into the creature's eyes. After returning to his feet, it occurred to him that he was without cover and the beast was looking directly at him. Oh... No, no, no, no... the boy thought, trying in vain to impose his will on the cosmos. Frantically, he looked for the booth of his salvation. Of course, with the clattering of rakes and hoes still fresh in his ears, he remembered to keep an eye on the boar. The lad spotted the stand right away; four booths down from Malek, the large, porcelain vase stood out beside it. Alright, he began, attempting to calm himself, This shouldn't be too hard. All you have to do is jump out of the way of its charge, pick yourself back up before it tramples you, and get it all the way back over there without getting gored. Piece o' cake. His rational side rolled its eyes. As the youth struggled to reach a better solution, he hoped something would distract the monster.

And something did. Several splats -- incidentally of the sort Jannin had earlier been going for with his apple -- turned the eyes of boy and beast in Malek's direction. That'll do, the lad thought in relief. As Boar turned and snorted at its old quarry, the look of shock and horror on the guard's face told Jannin the diversion had not been intentional. Though the young mage was growing increasingly weary of hailing dumb luck as his savior, he knew he was in no position to be picky. As Boar slowly approached the frightened man, the boy quietly followed it, trying very hard to avoid its notice.

The gears in Jannin's head whirred at top speed to formulate his game plan. Okay. Chubsy-ubsy over there is backing Mr. I'm-too-scared-to-do-my-job into a corner. And, between 'em, they're destroying everything in the way. The boy was pleased that the vase was not in this path of destruction. He was further cheered when he finally felt able to set things up. When he reached the stand, the youth waited for several moments; though not as acute as those of a canine or feline, porcine ears were, the boy expected, good enough to hear a liquid-filled vase scraping across the cobblestone streets. He would wait for the opportune moment.

When ale began pouring into the streets, Jannin knew that moment had arrived. However, the sight of the alcoholic beverage tempted him to forgo the present plan. Hmm... I know that stuff burns pretty well. I guess I could just use it; it's gross and the world'll be a better place without it. Then again... That guard might not make it. ... Wait, why's that a problem? Oh, yeah. Gotta have a witness. Oh, well. My plan works fine. He began to move the vase. It was heavier than he'd expected and almost gave him a bath once or twice. Soon enough, however, the young mage brought it out into the street.

Jannin had been quite right to wait for the beast to busy itself; the contents' sloshing was clear and the vase's scraping had to be audible from a block away. He then noticed that the number of objects between Malek and Boar had become dangerously low. The boy approached the pair. I guess I should help a bit. Dead eyes can't really watch my gl-- Hello... he paused, spying several bolts of fabric, knocked to the ground by the guard and trampled by the beast. Smiling, the lad tucked a red sample under his arm, noting its silky texture. The color wasn't important, but it was traditional for what he had in mind.

Jannin then positioned himself between Boar and the vase. Taking a breath, he steeled himself for what was to come. This's simple. All you've gotta do is go through with it. You'll have to hit the dirt one last time, but you'll definitely show Snuffles who's boss. With one barrel left, the lad set down his staff and began lobbing pieces of wooden figurines and assorted fruits at Boar's back. Once he drew the beast's attention, he would unfurl his length of fabric and wave it at the creature with all the flair of an amateur matador. For the expected charge, he prepared to dive out of the way and drop the cloth onto the monster's borrowed eyes. Chuckles ran through his body, his earlier insecurities all but forgotten. Such a perfect scheme... This is gonna be great!