In this world, Magic is Everything. All people, all races, are granted with the power to perform mystical and magical feats via grimories, mystical tomes granted to each and every child on their 15th birthday. Those blessed by the mana can have their names written down in legend.
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[attr="class","shadowsTitle"] INT [break] Civilians
[attr="class","shadowsBody"]
[attr="class","shadowsHead"] To Cure Corruption
Knowing there to be a cure to vampirism, at least as long as it is administered before the conversion from human into a vampire is completed with them dying as a result of the disease, a nobleman within the group going by the name Stanard sends you out to the Witches Forest to find several ingredients. Because the place is considered dangerous to the group, they refuse to go out themselves, sending you out there with a shopping list instead.
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[attr="class","shadowsSub"]Details
Maximum Number of Players: 3 [break]Minimum Word Count: 2500 [break]Location: The Witches Forest [break]Special Requirements: For the potion to be made, several very specific ingredients need to be brought to the group in Kiten. These ingredients are called: Twilight Foxglove, a beautiful purple flower that seems to glow with a dim hue. Devil’s Helmet, an equally beautiful dark purple flower that is extremely toxic and can kill a fully grown man just by making skin contact. And finally, Umbrella Hemlock, a white flower that grows on a small island in the middle of an equally small lake. Return these three flowers as intact as possible so Stanard can fashion them into a cure.
[attr="class","shadowsSub"]NPC Information
What NPCs are in this mission? Please fill out the template for any notable NPCs. While those you have to socially interact with during the mission are not required, any enemy that is presented in the mission must be listed here.
Health Limit: Intermediate [break]Physical Speed: 15 m/s under water [break]Physical Damage: Intermediate [break]Magic Element and Types: Water | Restraining | Attack Creation [break]Combat Style: The Grindylow attack by spitting highly compressed volumes of water from their gullet, which can cause fair amounts of damage during sustained contact. Additionally, they possess sharp claws, fangs and move frighteningly quick when beneath the surface. Their preferred manner of killing is by dragging someone into the depths and drowning them before stripping the flesh from their bones like a school of hungry piranha. [break]Additional Information: These small, scaly aquatic creatures were once put here by one of the witches of old, protecting something of value that once resided on the small island in the centre of the lake, but has long since been moved elsewhere. Over time, the Grindylow has been forgotten, no longer being used to human contact and being incredibly violent to anything that would even consider stepping into or moving across the surface of their domain. As they refuse to get on land, one is safe from them as long as they were to stay out of the water.
With the option to have the woman saved over having her put out of her and everyone else’s misery, there was really nothing to debate about anymore. For as much discourse as there was within the room, none of them would hear any kind of struggle or feedback from Gawain. He was really just there to make a bit of money, which would happen a lot faster if the people involved gave him what it was that he needed so that he might be on his way. Out of all of the individuals gathered in the room, there was really only one of them that seemed to have any idea about what it was they were dealing with. So as unfriendly as it might have sounded, the white haired youth just zoned everyone else out while he focused on what he was saying. Laying a book upon the massive wooden table, he read a few passages from what sounded like folklore at best.
Though he wouldn’t say it, if there was anything he had learned during his time on Skjaergard, it was that folklore was more often than not a bad compass. Over there, it had often been the deciding factor between life or death, as most common sense went out of the window. It was sad, seeing people put to death to appease some kind of sea deities that didn’t even exist, with those being sacrificed doing so willingly and feeling it to have been some kind of honor. Preposterous. All they did was throw away their lives over fairytales and make belief. In a way, he felt more or less the same now that he was being sent into what was arguably one of the most dangerous places on this side of the continent, especially with the demons being in a riled up state. And all of that for a bunch of flowers that might end up just mixing into a caustic liquid that ended up killing the woman anyway.
But if that were to happen, one way or the other, it would solve one portion of the vampire problem, and he’d get paid to deliver what were essentially the reagents for a poisonous tincture. Could he live with that? Probably.
He wasn’t the one to administer it after all, he was just the guy being paid to risk his life and fetch these odd flowers. When a second book was placed onto the table, the man paying him for his efforts went through the trouble of pointing out all of the different plants he would need for this antidote or cure or whatever it was to work. Believing it to be a good idea to get some pictures into his head as a means of helping him pick the stuff they needed rather than the stuff that might look like it but held different properties entirely, a pair of gloves and a small container were also placed on the table. Undoubtedly being there for whomever they might have been able to find that was crazy enough to go through this whole undertaking, he refrained from taking them up just yet. Since the man was going through the effort of showing him exactly which plants he was to go after by imprinting the images into his mind, the least he could do was try his best to hold any information he was given.
These were the names of the three plants he was looking for, each having a fairly distinct bit that made them unique. The first was a plant said to grow in the shade while glowing with a faint purple hue, undoubtedly making it quite a sight to see for any aspiring herbalist. The second was another purple flower, albeit one that could kill just about anything that as much as made skin contact with it faster than they could curse themselves for fucking up. Finally, the third of the three was a flower that white in color and seemed to thrive on small islands in the midst of a lake. It made Gawain wonder about who it was that had written these books, as it seemed to have been someone that was at the very least welcome in the forest of witches. It must have been a long time ago, since it was quite clear that the forest was entirely under the control of the demons now.
Some time after that, young Gawain had made his way from the civilized world and across the border leading into the forest of witches. In truth, he had expected there to be more resistance along the way, something like demons patrolling the area and making it impossible for any normal humans to get through with their life. The fact that he had managed to do so solely by keeping his head down meant that this was not the case, or he would most certainly have been found out. As it were, he did not possess the ability to hide his mana from people, so if anyone or anything out here was actively trying to find any mana signatures, they would have found his in a heartbeat. Because for the small frame he possessed due to his age, he possessed a lot of mana, more than the average fifteen year old should probably have.
But that did not really matter all that much right now. Believing that the fighting that was going on against the greater demons was the reason why one could move in and out so easily, it was more than likely also the reason why the witches that hadn’t sworn fealty to Lilith had been able to leave and seek refuge in Clover. It was rather sad to think about people who had to leave their homes and everything they knew behind because of a cruel overlord, though it could always be worse. In his case, raiders had come to his childhood home, murdered his father and took him and his mother overseas by boat. They took him away from what he knew by force and had him dragging corpses from the port town in a cart and dumping them in a swamp filled with corpse eating monstrosities and the living angry dead. He had lost his mother to a disease contracted by said corpses, leaving him alone in a foreign nation.
If it hadn’t been for his own perseverance and a good bit of luck, he more than likely still would have been in that country, fighting men twice his age with crude axes and swords just to earn an extra bite of bread or a mouthful of mystery meat. And when he said mystery meat, he meant that it might have belonged to anything ranged between an animal, a monster or even another human being. And judging by the sheer amount of fishermen and warriors that died on Skjaergard every day, the latter did not seem nearly as unlikely as the people here on the continent might think. As far as he could care, it really didn’t matter what he ate as it filled his stomach and allowed him to live to fight another day. Had he not eaten what he was given, he wouldn’t have lived long enough to see his salvation at the hands of two magic knights in service to Clover. From what he had been able to deduce at the time, it seemed like him surviving was mostly just luck.
If he had raised his weapon to them, he more than likely wouldn’t have lived long enough for them to figure out that he was not Skjaergardian but Cloverian in origin. And now, thanks to all of that, he now found himself skulking about in the witches forest like some thief looking to loot a bunch of flowers. At least the eventual goal was admirable, as the plants and flowers he was looking for would supposedly suffice in crafting a draught that would cure a woman of her vampirism, thus saving her from a very long unlife as a monster forced to prey on innocent humans just to stay “alive”. Either that, or the draught would prove more toxic than the instructions claimed, thus killing her in the process and curing her as it took her life. While that was not the outcome they were hoping for, as simply driving a stake through her heart would have been an easier way of getting similar result, the chance that this might end up giving her a second chance at life made defying the will of demons somewhat worth the effort.
Thanks to all of his pondering, it did not take him very long to reach a point in the forest where there were large clusters of plants growing in the shade of massive trees. Standing out because they gave off a strange purple glow, these were undoubtedly the Twilight Foxglove. Wandering over to them after making sure the coast was clear, he took several of them as he uprooted them entirely, believing this would keep them from withering as quickly before putting them into the container he had been provided with. With the first of the three flowers located and in his possession, it was time to press on, heading further to the north.
The further north he ventured, the more it seemed as though the troubles of the Clover country, as well as the dangers of the looming war with demonkind and the hells were getting further and further away. It was quiet out here, serene almost. Though as someone had told him a long time ago, when something appeared to be too good to be true, that was usually because it was just that, a delusion. For when he reached a small and shallow lake, Gawain looked down into the water, finding that he could actually see right down to the bottom. Estimating the water to get roughly up to his waist, the boy believed that he could just wade his way through all the way to the small island that was roughly twenty meters away from his side of the shore. Had it been possible, he would have liked to fly over there, but having left his broom laying around somewhere, that luxury was not afforded to him.
Sighing deeply, he figured it had been a while since he had had a proper bath, or washed his clothes for that matter. Wading into the water and beginning to make his way across, everything seemed to be going pretty smoothly. But as things often went when they were going too smoothly, they often had to come to an abrupt and unflattering end as he sensed something darting towards him through the shallow waters. Through the use of his Ki, he could tell that there was most certainly something going on, all the more so when he felt a cutting sensation by his side as the water next to him began coloring red. The stinging pain was caused by a strange creature latching on to him and biting into his side. Were it not for a high tolerance for pain as a result of several years of slave labor and having to fight to the death on several occasions, he might have cried out.
But given the sudden nature and his urge to fight back against a threat that appeared in such a cowardly manner, Gawain responded by hitting the creature with his elbow. When it refused to let go, he hit it again, and again, and again. Continuously hitting it until it was no longer just elbows but rather fists coming down upon it again and again, forcing it to loosen its grasp and head back into the waters. Disappearing for a moment as it made for the water again, it was like the bloodied waters mixed with the creature moving back and forth had roused a whole bunch of other creatures. All darting through the water as they made their way towards something they considered to be some sort of snack, there was only one way to counter them all. Rapidly forming a hand seal over his chest, he waited for them to get into his range before letting loose a massive burst of compressed air mana that pushed the water aside and launched the creatures back several meters.
Using this opportunity to push forward, the young mage made his way towards the island as he could hear the little monsters plummeting down from the air and hitting the surface of the lake with load smacks. Knowing quite well how it fell to be slammed into the surface of water that hard, many forgot that water being a liquid would still hit you like a boulder if enough velocity was applied. And in case they hadn’t figured it out, it was something they soon came to figure out the hard way. As much as he wanted to see them learn this lesson, he didn’t want to stop moving towards the rare flowers. Gearing up his gloves, he picked a handful of them and stashed them into the container on his back. The moment he finished, he looked for the most clear path to cut through the water and make his way back to the shore on the other side. It was only twenty meters after all, or so he thought to himself as he got back into the lake.
Name of Spell: Push Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Junior | Attack Creation Range & Speed: 10m AoE | 15 m/s Mana Cost: 10 | 5 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot | Knockback Description: Releasing a burst of air pressure to aggressively push away threats, this spell moves into all directions with Gawain at the epicenter. Activated by holding the hand horizontally, the back of the hand facing downward while pushing the tips of his index finger and thumb against one another, the burst follows up straight after. The attack itself is non-lethal, even with direct contact, though capable of causing minor scuffs and cracks on structures and minor bruises on people while leaving the direct area mostly intact, dealing Junior rank damage. Utilizing a fairly powerful knockback effect to blow back the aforementioned by up to seven meters + an additional 5 meters for every 10 Power, those who do not possess at least 10 sensory will be unable to see the spell itself. Those that do will see a wispy green dome coming into their direction before forcefully shoving them back.
Last Edit: Sept 20, 2023 15:55:49 GMT -5 by Gawain
Tearing up his slacks and using one of the leg sleeves to tie up the wound on his side as well as he could, it didn’t take a whole lot of time before the wound itself stopped hurting and just started itching. While equally annoying, it was something he could ignore until he was done collecting the final flower. And according to the wisdom of the man that had sent him here and the books he had been reading about the subject, they shouldn’t be a whole lot further from here on out. As it were, he could already tell what the first thing he would do would be once he got back into the civilized world. He’d take a lengthy, steaming hot bath to let his wound soak for a bit, as it absolutely needed cleaning after being bit by that weird marine creature. It was mildly aggravating that it had managed to hurt him the way that it did.
The final flower, and coincidentally the one that was the most hazardous of them all was called the devil’s helmet. As it was described, the plant itself was so toxic that making skin contact could kill a grown man in seconds, which was not something he was willing to put to the test. Keeping the gloves on as he had put the umbrella hemlock in with the twilight foxglove, Gawain pushed through the hurt and made his way through the thicker part of the forest. Because the devil’s helmet liked to be touched, it grew in places where plenty of people used to roam, one of the areas where the witches used to go before the witch queen turned out to be a demoness in disguise that more or less put every last one of them on house arrest in the inner city. Because of this, the young man believed that it was safe enough to venture closer to one of these parks.
Using the dense forest as a means of obscuring sight of him from the skies above, the thick foliage would hide his presence from any demon or witch sympathizer that might be scouting the area. Or so he hoped. Walking for the better part of thirty minutes, he finally reached the place he had been looking for, as the statues in the area more or less gave it away. It was clear that no one had been here for some time, as the statues were in the early stages of being reclaimed by nature. If one didn’t tend to them soon, there was a good chance that they would never go back to looking as spotless as they once had, not even with the application of magic. But Gawain hadn’t come here to discern the state of the outer forest area or gain insight into the architecture of the witches here. Landing his gaze on a cluster of devil’s helmet, he remained close to the ground as he reached for them.
Taking any that he could lock in his clutch, he stuffed them into the case he had been given before putting the gloves off, folding them inside out to keep any of the residue from touching his skin and leaving them on top of one of the statues. It was a little parting gift, as well as a big “fuck you” to whichever guard patrolled this region, as them finding this meant someone had slipped in and out right under their noses. That was the kind of subtle trickery Gawain could appreciate. Without spending another second longer than he needed to, he then began making his way back towards the land of Clover, moving at a steady pace and not bothering to take a break even once. He had a bunch of ingredients that needed to be returned as soon as possible, and a wound that needed cleaning just as quickly if not faster. Because at the end of the day, the life of the woman wasn’t as valuable to him as his own was.
Upon his return to Kiten, absolutely no time was wasted as he cut straight through main streets and back alleys to get right to the mayor’s mansion. Knocking on the door, the guards that had almost assaulted him during their first meeting eagerly awaited his arrival. Letting him in and pointing him straight towards the group that stood eagerly around the large table, but none more so than the individual that had requested the batch of flowers from him. With the case of flowers placed carefully upon the table, the man took them from him with caution, as he too was aware that one of the flowers inside of it had the potential to kill if he happened to touch it by accident. Vowing to take the whole batch home with him so he could work on the cure in peace, Gawain was just about ready to leave this place until the next phase was ready.
However, he was stopped in his tracks by the mayor, claiming that his work was nowhere near done just yet. Instead of showing the man the wound on his side that needed cleaning, he instead decided to listen to what needed to be said. Upon hearing him out, Gawain could honestly say that the man had a good point, one the ashen haired youth himself had clearly forgotten about when venturing through demon controlled lands. This being the fact that they still hadn’t captured the supposed culprit, the man going by the name of Waylon. Sighing deeply, the boy thanked the men in the room and told him to send for him while the cure was being prepared for administering. Claiming that he’d start looking for the supposed vampire right after he had had a proper bath and some time to clean his wounds, the boy left the room, fully ignoring the mayor and his objections.
The way he saw it, he wasn’t going to be doing anyone any favors by arriving in a less than optimal state when it came to locating and fighting a vampire. Knowing next to nothing about them aside from what one might learn from folklore and old wives tales, him having an infected wound while doing battle seemed like a death sentence. Meaning that when he died, they’d be down another pair of hands, the vampire would have made yet another victim, and he himself wouldn’t be able to claim any of the money that had been promised to him for bringing the ingredients for the cure and taking the head of the vampire as a trophy. No, a bath was what he needed right now, and he wasn’t going to be paying for it either. The mayor however was, though he didn’t know about it yet.