“What the hell are you doing? Let me go, this creature’s gonna kill Tarka,” Cleave said, rage buzzing in his mind.
“Uh, Cleave, look,” Krug said.
Cleave’s vision cleared, and he saw the skeletal body of the undead wolf beneath him. Its skull was smashed into several pieces and some of it had disintegrated into powder. The elf looked up and saw Berryl helping Tarka attend her wounds.
Berryl looked over to the destroyed skull of the wolf and whooped. “Wow Cleave, you screwed up that skeleton worse than Krug, and he’s fifty times stronger than you.”
“That’s because he’s been hammering at it for about five minutes,” Tarka mumbled through the bandages wrapped around her maw.
Cleave dropped the frying pan and backed away from the wolf. The sharp pain in his arms caught up to him and he winced. “How long has that thing been dead?”
“About three minutes,” Krug said.
Cleave’s jaw dropped. “Three minutes? Then why didn’t you stop me? If you did my arms wouldn’t be so sore.”
“I would have,” Berryl said, “but I was afraid to get near you.”
“It took me six tries before I could grab you, each time I tried you hit me with your frying pan,” Krug said, holding up two badly bruised hands.
“Geez, I did all that?” Cleave said.
“Course you did,” Tarka said from the side of her mouth, “you get crazy when you fly into a rage.”
Cleave could only remember flying into a rage once. It was when he first met Tarka, and a wolf attacked her. The wolf nearly tore out her throat, but he leapt on the creature and brained it with Tarka’s frying pan. He flew into a rage that caused him to crush that wolf’s skull into powder, just as he’d done to the skeletal wolf lying before him. He chuckled at the thought of this wolf being the same as the one he’d killed before.
Cleave picked up his frying pan and put it back into his belt. He looked over the skeletal wolf once more then walked toward Tarka. As he moved toward his girlfriend, a light blue holo window popped open before him.
You gained +1 to your Overkill “Skill.” Enjoy those sore muscles!
Phil
Cleave flipped off the screen and joined Tarka. Many of the kobold’s wounds were deep and bled profusely. The first set of bandages were soaked with blood within a few minutes and another set had to be applied. Cleave and Berryl applied pressure to the wounds, but more blood came. Tarka became woozy and was close to passing out, but through determination and some light slaps by Cleave, she managed to remain conscious.
Tarka opened her character screen. The red Bleeding status flashed beside her name. However, after a few minutes and prayers from the party, the blinking letters faded. Tarka regained her composure, and soon the party was sitting beneath a large purple tree. The wolf skeletons turned into a blue flame that rose into the sky.
Cleave heaved a sigh. “Well, that was hell.”
“Seriously, what were those bones made out of, Titanium?” Berryl said.
“It was complete bullshit,” Tarka managed to mumble around the bandages soaked with dried blood obfuscating most of her mouth.
“Well, Phil did say this was going to be really hard,” Krug said.
“But having skeletons that tough - skeletons. Measly skeletons, is a bit much, isn’t it?” Berryl said.
Cleave massaged his biceps. “It scares me to think what else is awaiting us on our adventure. With our luck it’ll be some kind of extra planar demilich that’ll rip us apart with its otherworldly magic.”
“Shh,” Tarka put a finger to her lips, “don’t give Phil any ideas.”
“Phil, who’s that?” Berryl tilted her head.
“An asshat. We’ll explain later,” Tarka said. “So, we have assholes in purple robes, assholes in green robes, and some kind of unknown mystical eye thingy. What a way to start an adventure.”
“Assholes in green robes that supposedly evacuated our friends out of the blighted area,” Krug said.
“What do you wanna bet ‘evacuate’ means kidnapped?” Cleave continued to massage his muscles.
Berryl crawled over to Cleave and started rubbing his arms. His pain was slowly soothed, and he leaned back into the catgirl, his back cushioned by her massive breasts. The elf felt his member grow firm and thought of another way Berryl could heal him, but now wasn’t the time. Cleave thought he caught a jealous glare from Tarka before she turned away.
“It’s possible,” Krug stroked his stubbled chin, “but where do you think they were taken if they were kidnapped?”
“Maybe we could go back and search for clues,” Tarka said, still looking away from the catgirl giving her boyfriend a massage.
“Don’t know if that’d be such a good idea with those crazy mages running around,” Cleave said.
“Not to mention anything else that might want to kill us,” Krug said, “and then there’s the blight.”
“Oh, I don’t think the blight stuff will hurt us. We’re sitting in it.”
Cleave looked down and saw the grass he was sitting in was purple and wilted. Half of the clearing was covered in dying, dark purple grass. The elf jumped up and ran over to the other side of the clearing and his friends joined him, all looking at the forest floor with disgust and wonder.
“That necromantic magic must be hellaciously powerful to damage this much of the forest,” Krug said, staring at a putrid patch of purple crawling up a tree trunk. “I wonder if our quest is to find the source and stamp it out.”
Tarka let out a derisive, muffled laugh. “Please, I doubt it’ll be that simple. Those purple and green robed guys both probably used that tainted necromancer magic to cast their spells. With them using so much, so often, it probably caused all this.”
Berryl frowned, and Cleave asked her what was wrong.
“I’m a little in the dark.”
“There’s a surprise,” Tarka said sarcastically.
The green-eyed catgirl gave her a glowering look. “You guys are talking about quests, magic, and some guy named Phil. What’s going on? Maybe I can help you.”
The party explained what’d happened in the real world with Phil, the contract they all signed, and the quest to stop the forest from being destroyed. After they explained everything to Berryl, she screwed her face up.
“So you have to save the forest from being destroyed, and from what we can tell, those mean mages casting their spells are what’s hurting the forest?
“If what they said was true,” Krug said.
Berryl grinned. “Then the solution is simple. All you have to do is stop the mages from casting spells.”
“And how do you propose we do that?” Tarka said.
“Easy peasy, you just gather all the mages together in a big group, and then we can hack them all to pieces. Problem solved!”
“Right,” Tarka’s face lit up. “We’ll just ask them nicely to please all get together in one location and please not fry us with their magic while we cut them up. Perfect plan. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because you’re not smart like I am,” Berryl closed her eyes and smiled contentedly.
“Or we could try to figure out why they’re fighting in the first place,” Cleave said. “If we can put an end to whatever is causing them to fight, we can stop the blight.”
“That sounds like a good plan, but how do we start? They seemed pretty aggressive,” Krug said.
“I think they were only that way because of the Scrying Eye,” Cleave said. “If we can find some way to approach them on neutral terms maybe they can explain what is going on. Maybe they didn’t actually kidnap our friends, and maybe they just sent those wolves after us so they could stop us from taking away the Scrying Eye, so we don’t unleash its power and do more damage.”
Tarka shook her head. “It’s possible, but I doubt it. They’re probably as bad as those purple robed guys and our friends are in danger. Our best course of action is to find out where our friends are, so they can help us put a sto
p to all this. Maybe someone in our guild can unlock that eye thing, and it’ll show us how to stop this nonsense.”
“Then let's get back to the guild house and see what we can find. With any luck we’ll find a trail that’ll lead us straight to our friends,” Cleave said.
“Or to a gaggle of powerful necromancers that’ll blow us to hell,” Tarka retorted.
Cleave crawled over to Tarka and kissed her forehead. “That is what I love about you Tarka; you’re always a ray of sunshine.
EIGHT
Tarka led the group through the forest, carefully slipping from tree to tree, making sure no one was in front of them before the party moved on. The party chose to avoid the main road and move where the trees were the thickest. They were unsure of the situation in the forest and thought it prudent to avoid contact with anyone until they got more information about what was going on.
Krug always hated it when the party tried to slip through the forest. It was much harder for him since he was so big. He offered to stay in the clearing while the rest of the party members went to the guild house, but they all refused. If they were attacked, the party had a much better chance of surviving with the big, burly half giant around.
That was the general idea, though Cleave wasn’t sure. If the party came across a group of mages half as strong as the ones they first encountered, they’d probably be forced to run before they ever had a chance to launch an attack. The elf watched his friend absent mindedly scratch himself while Tarka scouted ahead. At least he looked fearsome...sort of.
The kobold peeked from behind a gnarled bush coated in purple mold. She squinted and looked forward then took a step back and motioned toward the party.
Cleave and Berryl soundlessly stepped forward while Krug tiptoed behind them. Leaves and twigs crunched beneath his gargantuan boots. Cleave winced each time the half giant’s foot came down. Krug really needed to find some way to learn a silence spell, so he could sneak through the forest like the rest of the party.
The kobold’s eyes were wide when the rest of the party reached their position. When Cleave looked out in the large clearing, he saw why.
Shriveled dark purple grasses and gnarled and sagging bushes with dark purple, wilted leaves littered the forest floor. Black, leafless trees twisted and reached toward the sky with gaunt arms and putrid purple fingers. Cleave thought he could see large, misshapen faces in the bark cry out noiselessly while the sickening purple substance on them ate away at their flesh.
Cleave shook off purple gunk from his boot that lay beneath a thin layer of midnight black soil and stared at the picturesque horror before him. The party was still a half mile from the guild house. The forest seemed deader the closer they came to the Fey Wilder’s base. He shuddered as he imagined how horrific the guild house or the arboretum that served as home to their dryad friends must look.
There was a rustle along the main road, and the party quickly bolted out of sight. Cleave, Tarka, and Berryl took refuge behind an amalgamation of dead bushes while Krug knelt behind several thick, black, dead trees that twisted together and spiraled skyward.
The group waited in silence for several minutes as the footsteps grew louder. Around a turn came two women garbed in deerskin clothing that tightly clung to their curvy frames. One had short cropped, dark raven hair while the other sported long, soft golden blonde curls. The women were short, in comparison to Cleave, which only accentuated their magnificent breasts even more. The elf felt himself growing firmer below. He was reminded of the pain in his arms and the desire to be healed in that moment.
Cleave’s hand slowly fell to the bulge in his pants, and he pressed against it. Desire flamed in his loins, and there was a small tingle in his feet. He closed his eyes and imagined the many fun things both women could do with their ample tits. The elf felt a gentle nudge in his ribs from Tarka. She fixed him with a stern look, nodded toward the women, and cupped a hand to her ear.
Cleave shook himself. He had to focus, but the beautiful women walking down the pathway was making it a challenge. The women spoke loudly to each other as they walked along the pathway, so it was easy to listen in.
“So with that, Mistress Fiana should be done with the first wave of experiments,” the raven-haired girl said.
“It’s taken so long to get everything ready. Do you think they’ll be done in time, before The Dreadmore finish with theirs?”
The black haired girl laughed. “What? Are you kidding? Those idiots are still busy trying to blow up Nature’s Way. We’re so far ahead of them both that we’re going to run them smooth ass over when we finally attack.”
“We should strike now while we have the advantage. We have the Severed on our side and their other guilds are busy with each other. Why not attack and wipe them out now while they’re fragmented?”
“Because we have to make sure we have enough strength for when the other guilds move in. There’s more than just Nature’s Way and Dreadmore. There are tons of smaller clans getting together, so they can get a piece.”
“Yeah, but they’re not gonna get in. We’ve already got this area locked down, and we’re expanding every day. We should have this part of the Wilderwood completely under our control by the end of the week.”
“I doubt you ladies or your clan will have anything but death.” Cleave’s attention was turned to a large tree a little further down the path. A huge man in dark green leather armor stepped out from behind a tree. In one meaty hand, he held a long sword shaped like a thin blade of grass and in another was a two-foot wide round shield.
A smirk on his cherry lips rested amid an orange curly sea that was his beard. The muscled human strode up to the women and held out his weapon. The women took defensive stances. The blond woman held out her left palm and a scintillating white globe appeared there. The other drew two daggers from her belt.
“Oh dear, looks like you caught us unprepared. We weren’t expecting company,” the blond woman said, ready to hurl her globe at the large human.
The raven-haired girl, who had the long, sharp ears of an elf, sneered at the man, suddenly belligerent. “Well, I’m not in the mood to entertain guests. So he’d better clear out before I decide to gut him like the ugly red orangutan he is.”
The man snorted. “Please, I’ll split both of you bitches in half before you have the chance to attack.”
“Care to try?” The raven-haired elf snarled.
“I could, but what’s the point of slaughtering low-level players? I’ve got some injuries from my last encounter, why don’t you two make yourselves useful and heal me. If you’re good, I’ll introduce you to my guild master, and he can make you both healing wenches. Lot of guys in our guild would pay good copper for the services of good little cocksucking sluts.”
The blond-haired woman, also an elf, blew a raspberry. “I’m sorry, but we’ll have to pass. We can’t suck what we can’t find.”
The bearded man’s smile turned into an angry sneer, he raised his blade and charged. The blond woman threw her sphere at the charging man. He dodged left. The sphere struck the ground and created a small white cloud that left several shards of ice poking out of the ground. The raven-haired elf raised her daggers and came at the man.
Their weapons whistled in the air and clanged loudly as they crashed against each other. In their first exchange, the large man quickly gained the upper hand, bearing down on his opponent with rapid strikes of his grass blade. He backed the raven-haired elf against a tree and stepped back to run her through with his weapon. When he paused, another white ball came toward him. He ducked, and it slammed into a tree, leaving spiky ice shards against the black bark.
The trio of combatants went back and forth for several minutes. The raven-haired elf and bearded man exchanged blows while the blond woman threw white balls of magic that exploded into ice. The elves tried to work the bearded man into a position where he’d be an easy target for the blond mage’s ice balls, but he managed to use his superior footwork to place himself out of ha
rm's way.
Cleave wanted to intervene in the combat, attacking and capturing both groups so he could question them and find out what was going on in the forest. He motioned for his party to draw weapons and attack. Berryl grinned and extended her claws, but Krug and Tarka shook their heads.
This frustrated Cleave. They didn’t have any leads, and this could be their best chance to get one. Then again, perhaps they were wise. There was no telling how powerful these characters were and once one side was victorious, they could just gang up on the remaining side and have an easier fight.
The bearded man unleashed a quick series of slashes that sent the raven-haired girl reeling. His blade moved so fast it could barely be seen. The blond elf put both of her hands together and created a larger white globe that missed its target by inches and created a massive explosion of icy spikes that extended three feet from the side of a tree.
Cleave blanched and his frustration gave way to fear. He wanted to question all three of these people, but in this case, discretion seemed the better part of valor.
The two sides continued to fight with no one getting the upper hand. In one exchange, the raven-haired woman found herself on the defensive once again. The raven-haired elf raised her hands above her head, this time creating a pulsating white orb two feet across. She held it for several seconds, waiting for the right time to throw.
When the bearded man’s back was to her, she threw it. The orb throbbed as it soared toward its unsuspecting target. The raven-haired elf kept her opponent engaged until the orb was just inches from the man, then she kicked off a tree and rolled out of the way.
Her opponent instinctively jumped three feet into the air and grabbed the tree she’d kicked off of. The orb mostly missed the male warrior, but managed to connect with his right calf. The ice shards exploded from the bark, rending his flesh. He unleashed a guttural howl.
He tore the icy shard from his leg, and a stream of blood spilled on the blackened ground as he leg to go of the tree. He grimaced and looked up at the blond mage, who already had another small ice ball at the ready. She hurled it at him. He hopped to the side using his good leg, narrowly avoiding the second attack. The ice ball struck another tree several feet away, and there was a loud yelp.
The Tainted Wood Page 6