Red Riding Hood (Graded)

4th of Saun 719

The untamed wilderness of Melrath is vast and encompasses frigid mountain ranges, glacial fields, deep alpine lakes, dark ancient forests as well as the expansive shoreline of the nation. Here creatures and spirits dwell together in the remote places of the world, far from the hustle and bustle of civilization.
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Alora
Posts: 246
Joined: Thu Aug 23, 2018 7:49 pm
Race: Naerikk
Profession: Sorceress
Renown: 120
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Red Riding Hood (Graded)

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Time of Day/Night: After Noon
Weapons: Torch
Armor: T8 Masterwork Blood Metal
Injuries: Recently amputated left forearm. Cauterized wound in left thigh.
Illness: Depression and anger and pain
Ether Reserves: Moderately Exhausted





4th of Saun 719

The beaten path through the Myrkvior woodlands was well worn, about two horses wide. Enough for a carriage, certainly enough for the woman in red, riding down the path on her horse. To any who saw her from a distance, she wore a bulky red dress of silk. To anyone who drew close, they would see the hidden metal rivets set all along the cloth, concealing the blood-metal plates that underlined the dress.

Alora sat side saddle on Starboy as she cantered down the path, going at a leisurely pace. With her one good hand, she held the reins. The loss of her other arm was more than simply annoying. More than an inconvenience. It'd been traumatic. She'd spent much of the latter portion of Ymiden burying that anguish in a mountain of busy work in the Forge, and manic planning for the escapades she'd get up to when she left. The prosthetic arm she'd been fitted with was very basic, more or less a placeholder for something better, although the metal and other materials it'd been crafted from was more than adequate.

Hanging from her saddle, a weapons-grade torch that was a burning bludgeon once the rushes and oiled rags were lit. For now it sat dormant in the sheath on the side of Starboy's saddle. Apart from that, her allies of the elements, and her armor, were all that stood between herself and a swift death by the bandits that infested these woods.

So as she proceeded, Alora kept an eye out for the signs of these errant woodsmen, who hid and pillaged those travelling the roads. Desperate men who would stop at nothing to let anything get between themselves and their latest meal ticket.

Alora's hood concealed her strange coloration and mutations. The glowing orange eyes that gave her away for a naer, and the forehead horn that gave her away for stormtouched.

Right now, she was merely a travelling noblewoman. The riveted, brigandine armor she wore wasn't exactly the most flattering. It downplayed her natural curves and made her appear a bit frumpy. Yet it would have to do. The bandits didn't target nobles based on their beauty, but their value as a target. She could only hope that she looked the part, or that the bandits were simple enough not to tell the difference between a soft noblewoman, and a hardened Valkyrion.

Starboy began snorting in consternation, as she rode along. Alora caressed the horse with the hand that held the reins. The old gelding had grown on her, ever since she learned how to care for the beast in Yaralon. She almost - almost - repented her former treatment of the horse then.

The woods ahead of her were darkening now, the canopy of the trees thickening, obscuring the light of the afternoon. She thought she heard a whistling at once, and then Starboy reared up. A crossbow bolt buried itself in the path ahead of her horse, and then a ring of arrows shot out from the treelines, similarly surrounding her. Their shot was good. If they wanted to, they could have ended her right then and there. Yet Alora had calculated well that they would seek to abduct rather than rob and kill. It was a flimsy guess, all told. Alora half didn't care if they shot her down and did what they would with the loot. Her mood was just that low these days.

"Off the horsie! C'mon red dress. Let's 'ave a look atcha." Came a voice from beyond the treeline. Still no faces appeared to her. She'd have to do some coaxing.

Nodding, and feigning fright as best she could, Alora slowly lowered herself off of the horse. It was simple enough. All she had to do was push off and slip down the horse's side.

Then she was standing on the ground, holding up her prosthetic arm, while the other gripped the torch that was fastened to the saddle. "Please don't kill me!" She cried.

A chorus of eager laughter bubbled out of the forest, as more men came forward, entering her midst. They thought she would be easy pickings, with no escort. She'd done well enough, and her plan was going right so far. All she needed now, was to light a fire signal, and hope there weren't too many other archers hanging back beyond the treeline.

"We won't kill ye, darlin'" A dirty-faced brigand assured her, as he approached, getting close enough to reach out and touch her cheek. She shivered in revulsion at his touch, which he smiled, seeming to interpret it as fear.

About a half dozen, maybe more bandits arrived from the trees, coming out of the woodwork as it were. They wore the brambles through which they travelled, concealing their passage for anyone that had a mind to look for them. The others looked from side to side, checking for any escort that might've lagged behind her. When they found none there, the leader pushed aside Alora's red silk hood, revealing the hardened visage of the Naer, her plate horns, and her glowing orange eyes.

He was taken aback, stepping away a few paces on seeing her true face. He wasn't swift enough to back away.

With one swift command, Alora willed the rushes to light the rags on her torch, and swung it on his shoulder. The leader screamed hideously as the flames spread at her bidding, coiling and bathing him in dark fire. The smell of his burning flesh filled the air as it coursed over every inch of his being. Alora snarled soundlessly as the fire consumed him, sending up plumes of ash and smoke.

Then, the man who'd dared lay hands on her was burned to ash, and the smoke had lifted up above the canopy.

With one lobbing swing of her torch, Alora sent a fireball high into the air, letting it feed on the divine power of Faldrun so that it might light up the branches above. Then, all chaos broke loose.

With the lighting of the branches, the smoke signal went up as Alora commanded the flames to sink after burning for so many trills. What remained of those licks of fire descended and flew, dancing into the torch she was holding. A polearm wielding bandit came at her after she incinerated their leader.

She back stepped, voiding the hammer and spike at the end of the pole, then caressed her torch with wind, to give her flame-whip more control as it lashed out at him. She swung the elongated flame tongue in the air, underhanding it to the fool's crotch. His screams filled the air as he lost his grip on the polehammer.

Having disabled the greatest threat at the moment, she turned her attention to the rest. Before she could choose a target, a whistling sound filled the air. She felt before she saw the quarrel coming, as it pounded against one of the metal rivets in her armor. She winced at the impact, although the crossbow quarrel hadn't penetrated the plate.

There were several bandit footmen between her and that crossbowman, who would be able to intercept her before she even thought about getting to the archers. As she locked eyes with the man that had shot her, he instinctively took a step back, perhaps unsettled by her appearance. Before he could take more than two steps, she danced the earth beneath his feet to turn into mud, and then harden, tripping him up. As he went to the ground, she didn't have time to reflect at the time that bought her before there were more men on her.

She swept a kick beneath the legs of the nearest bandit, bringing him to the ground then held the torch over his face, allowing the flames from the torch to drip to the floor. His screams aside, she finally heard the Sliepnir on the wind. Their withering cries rattled the sky above as Bothild and her riders came upon the scene. Once they got over the area where the smoke signal had gone out, they descended to the ground and began putting those bandits that were out in the open to the sword.

Alora took advantage of the confusion to mop up the ones who were stuck in place, surrounded and cordoned off from escape by the circling Sliepnir.

She swung her torch a bit wildly, as she was wont to do. Letting the flames and momentum do most of the work. While bludgeoning weapons could be made to finesse, and there were techniques to make clever use of them, Alora had always revered their simple brutality. That she could just take it up, and smash in some skulls by blindly wailing it around.

This served her well, until her awareness of the battlefield led to mishaps. Which happened just as a crossbow bolt found its way through a gap in her armored skirt, and into her left leg. Grunting in pain, she knelt, and looked to where the bolt had fired from. It was the man she'd tripped earlier.

Without waiting for him to start cranking once more, she approached as swiftly as she could with one good leg. The quarrel she left in her leg, so as not to exacerbate the bleeding that would ensue.

Once she arrived at the crossbow wielding fool, she too her torch, and lowered the cage on his chest, battering him down. Once he hit the ground again, she used the cage of the torch to bind his wrist, at which point he screamed for the fire searing into his glove, and then flesh.

A couple of Valkyrion came up to Alora, looking at her wound and then at the man she was torturing. In the chaos, the rest of the bandits had been either slain or routed. This was their only prisoner.

"Best leave him alive." Said the mounted Valkyrion. He put a hand on Alora's right shoulder. "Our plan was to take prisoners, yes?"

Alora glared at him for a moment, incensed that someone had interrupted her fun, but then her expression softened, and she nodded.

The Valkyrion fighter took the crossbowman, and began trussing him up as best he could with what was at hand. The prisoner was taken to his mount, where he'd be carried off to Thrudheim Tower for enhanced interrogation.

Alora approached Bothild, and grinned painfully. "Fine timing."

She finally hiked up her armored skirt, and with a swift jerk of her right hand, removed the narrow-pointed quarrel. A groan in pain exited her lips, but it would be nothing to the cauterizing that she inflicted on herself, with her still burning torch. Screams echoed up as high as the canopy, setting even the hard-hearted Sliepnir ill at ease.
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            Strange
            Prophet of Old
            Posts: 1105
            Joined: Wed Mar 27, 2019 1:43 pm
            Race: Undead (Ghost)
            Renown: 999
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            Re: Red Riding Hood


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            Thread Review
            Alora
            Skill Points: +10 (can be used for magic)
            Magic XP: Yes (Defiance)

            Renown: +15

            Injuries/Overstepping: Cauterized quarrel wound, severe burn, on her left thigh. Keep the area clean for the next few trials or it'll get infected...
            Wealth Points: None.
            Loot: VICTORY!

            Skill Knowledge:
            • Acrobatic: Sliding off the back of a horse.
            • Bludgeon Combat (Torch): Using the cage of the torch to trap someone's hand.
            • Defiance: Elemental Manipulation (Fire I): Consuming an entire man's body in arcane and divine flame, until he burns to ash.
            • Defiance: Lobbing a fireball up to the canopy to catch fire.
            • Defiance: Commanding the flame to douse itself, to create smoke.
            • Mount (Equine): Riding side-saddle
            Non-Skill Knowledge:
            • none requested.
            Notes: Be careful with cauterization.

            You had me at Faun for the theme song. The title for the thread was also on-point.

            The set-up went right into immersion, without giving away too much (though I read the lead-up planning threads so I had a hunch). Alora is a little... fire-happy. There was a sense of blurred morality here. The insinuation of the bad-guy-bandits comes across in an obvious, cliched manner, but does that justify burning living men alive? Then again, what would they have done to her if she didn't have that ability? Thus, the gray line is marked.

            The pacing here was great, it focused on Alora as it should have, but also gave a nice balance to the various NPCs involved. Overall, a vivid read that felt firmly entrenched within the world's premise.

            Great job and enjoy your rewards!

            PM me if you have any questions, issues or concerns.

            Total Word Count: 1878 words.
            Review Request Link: viewtopic.php?p=126941#p126941
            stampcodehere

            word count: 297
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