assistirfilmes 120- Savagery Given Form
120- Savagery Given Form
Crixus- Hope's End
Crixus thudded down the path toward hope’s end; he was spattered in a bit of blood and gore from some utter idiots who had thought they could rob him for his runic armor. He hadn’t bothered to bury them; he simply threw the chunks that were left off to the side of the road so as not to offend any travelers.
After fighting alongside the completely unhinged new king, he had gone straight up to Dorn after the Dragons Maw battle and volunteered to be the first Abyssal Guard with boots on the ground and sword in skull at the Ravenous Grove. Not because he thought it would elevate his fighting immensely, although he did expect it to be a worthy challenge.
No, he hoped to gain favor with the new king. For the first time in his life, Crixus saw a way for the Abyssal Guard to gain an edge—a real shot at pushing the slavering hordes far enough back into their portals that they might be able to seal them. The idea had struck him mid-battle.
When he witnessed Vrax’s creations in action, he had plunged into a realm nearly as deadly as the portals he fought against when he entered Vrax’s Menagerie of Horrors. The paladin hadn’t stood a chance. The man had been set upon by everything from the very plants at his feet to the insects scurrying amongst the grass.
Crixus had barely done anything after they entered other than watch the man’s vain struggles against a madman’s darkest dreams made manifest. And that madman was now on their side. If Crixus could prove how useful his order was and asked Vrax honestly for aid, he believed he had a real chance to change everything.
If once his borders were secured, Vrax would be willing to go to Hellmaw and simply do what he did best. Make abomination after abomination to throw through the portal. The demons that rallied forth would be too busy trying to not be eaten to defend the portal anchors. He and the more venerable members of the guard could do it. They could close the portals.
Possibly not the grand portal at the center of it all, but even if they only closed all of the portals scattered around the beach, that would focus the defense on a single defensible point, hopefully aided by abominations that would give even the demons pause.
Crixus let out a grateful grunt as the shadows of hope's end finally fell across him. It had been a long trek, especially since he had been pushing his enhanced stats for days at a time to move at a blistering pace. Unfortunately, his portal mastery only allowed very short-range teleports and was prohibitively mana intensive. Fantastic for combat, useless for travel.
A gnarled-looking man stood at the front gate; wispy eyebrows and a frazzled beard highlighted his completely drained-looking face. He took a long pull off of a pipe before blowing out the cloud unnecessarily slowly while he looked Crixus up and down.
Crixus’s danger senses were going wild on him. This random guard exuded death, anger, and an astonishing amount of resentment. He knew without a doubt the man before him could kill him. Crixus simply nodded and turned to walk around the town. He didn’t need to go inside; his stats would keep him alive on his meager supplies for weeks.
“Who the fuck are you supposed to be?” The guard let out a cough along with another cloud of smoke.
Crixus could see the heraldry of Rembrand flying from a cart past the gates, and he didn’t want to get entangled in whatever politics were happening here; he knew Vrax was essentially at war with them. He slowed and turned back, ready to try and bolt from the lethal foe if he had to; the forsaken lands were visible from here. All he had to do was survive.
“A knight of the Abyssal Guard” was all he offered in answer.
The guard's brows shot up in slight amusement as more smoke wafted through his beard. His eyes were locked onto the symbol of Vurune around Crixus’s wrist. “Ahh, you are one of those new friends our town asshole was talking about... You got the right idea skirting town; the goldies inside wouldn’t be happy to see you.” He took a long pull and looked back to make sure none of the duke’s forces had seen the solitary figure yet.
“Yep, if you’re going to hook up with Vrax, I suggest you keep beelining it around the town and be ready to deal with some folks who are going to tell you the forest is off-limits.”
Crixus nodded in appreciation. “Thank you for the advice. I will... Inform them that nothing is off limits for a knight in pursuit of his duties.” Crixus picked up his pace as he skirted away towards the forest.
Behind him, Gregory let out a disbelieving laugh. “Oh fuck, that one will fit right in.”
Crixus managed to reach the other side of town; ahead lay a thick strip of willows and twitching wildlife practically reaching out from the forsaken lands, nearly touching the walls of the town. A half dozen figures could be seen on the edges of this hostile green glowing present from Vrax. They fired short bursts of scourging flames into the edges and occasionally slashed at figures that tried to pounce from within the foliage.
Crixus looked down at his mark of Vurune and shrugged, walking straight for the hostile line of trees. It was certainly better cover than just running across the field, and he was fairly certain it was on his side.
He made it halfway before a few idiots in chainmail started rushing his way. His senses trailed over them without him slowing at all; two were warriors of Rembrandt, and one appeared to be an elite duchy soldier. He walked a bit faster, rolling his shoulders. He had no intention of stopping, and they recognized it.
The duchy soldier at least tried to solve things without violence; he rushed just ahead of Crixus, only a dozen strides from the glowing strip of vegetation. “Halt, warrior! These lands are off-limits without a writ from the Duke.”
Crixus growled heavily through his thick armor and turned his red-tinted visor slightly to stare down at the man. “Move, I am a member of the Abyssal Guard, and I answer only to the king in the course of my duties.”
The soldier's face noticeably faltered under the withering gaze, and Crixus kept trudging towards him. “Stop! That...you don’t have a writ. Stop!”
One of the warriors of Rembrandt came in from his side with a spear thrust. Crixus sighed and turned violently, letting the spear shatter across his left vambrace. The same arm mercilessly clamped onto the soldier's throat, and he dragged him along as he charged at the Dutchy soldier.
He hit the soldier's upraised shield in a shower of metal sparks grinding against a shield that sought to arrest his momentum. It wasn’t enough; he struggled forward another two steps, dragging the warrior behind him and bullying the soldier ahead of him with sheer mass and strength. They all disappeared in a hateful shower of red light as Crixus opened a portal directly in his crashing path.
They all shot out in a clattering tumble in the heart of the glowing, hungering vegetation. The soldier had the misfortune of rolling straight into a chest-high mushroom that hissed with verdant acid. He never got to stand the probing limbs all along its stem stabbing into his collar and face, pulling him into a lethal embrace, mana fluttered around him uselessly shredding his surroundings and only managing to coat him in more acid.
Crixus gave a satisfied grunt as he clambered to his feet and slowly drew his jagged greatsword, raising it ahead of himself towards the terrified warrior of Rembrandt. The man looked all around himself, his shattered spear still dangling uselessly in his hand. A nearby vine started dripping lower towards him, and a bush reached out with tiny clawed hands.
The warrior savagely swung the haft of the spear around himself, sending the shrub tumbling and batting back the vines before they could loop around his throat. Crixus didn’t wait for the man to gather himself; he had a task to complete. He stepped in sharply in a powerful angled slash that started behind his shoulder and ended on the other side of the man's torso.
The warrior of Rembrand didn’t even feel it as his spine was severed from the side and his torso peeled open like a hunk of split firewood. He fell back into the eager hands of the shrubbery with nothing more than a surprised look on his face.
Crixus looked at the bracelet and nodded. “Good, that will make this next bit quicker.”
He slowly gathered mana into his hands, forming it into a red chain with a hook at the end, and began swinging it in slowly accelerating circles. The few other guards around the strip of Vrax’s domain were about to try their luck, and Crixus didn’t feel like playing hide-and-seek with zealots for his first few hours in the forsaken lands. He would make it quick.
***
Vraxious—The Ravenous Grove
Vrax was expecting a more dramatic backdrop for creating his second Apex Guardian, but it didn’t look like that was in the cards for today. Hans and half the Nightmare Conductors were stumbling around the town square after trying some fruit that was a bastard mix of wine and regret. Vrax scowled as a sugar glider lightly smacked into the side of his shrine and plopped onto the ground heavily.
“Well, I’ll leave you idiots to it then...” He walked back into his workshop and closed the thin leaf door. Then he sealed it over with everthirst root. The last thing he wanted was to be interrupted by a flock of smashed magical flying squirrels.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Vrax danced over a few reaching roots that were busy doing God knows what. Then he jumped past a small potted plant with angry pink flowers and scraggly branches he had made that morning that apparently wasn’t thrilled about the whole self-awareness thing. He had poured some intelligence into it and given it the ability to move just to see what would happen. It kept trying to get ahold of a pair of nearby shears, and honestly, he was a bit worried about why.
You know I can’t tell if it wants to end me or itself, and I’m starting to feel bad. I’ll deal with you before I go to bed tonight; otherwise, fifty-fifty I wake up choking on wrathful pink flowers.
Lux creaked at him happily as Vrax walked up to where he was playing with the mage bane worms. Vrax had made a few more over the last week amid a dozen other projects while Stereos researched leads for him.
Lux had been growing at an alarming rate since he had first been unleashed in the dungeon; his height had increased almost a full head, and his limbs had started becoming ganglier and gained slight jagged bladelike thorns along many of his bark edges. Vrax playfully stole a worm from Lux and tried to run away with it.
He made it half a damn step before Lux twisted his own everthirst roots around his feet, sending him down hard, face-first, into the dirt in the center of the workshop.
Lux creaked in amusement, making dark chuffing sounds like wood rubbing against flesh. Vrax was getting used to it, but the little bastards' noises were fucking terrifying. And he was willing to bet it was about to get a lot worse.
He pulled himself to his feet. “Hey Lux... You want a big upgrade, buddy?”
Lux turned towards him, a questioning glimmer burning in the pits of his eye sockets.
“Like Duchess! I can make you stronger! Honestly, I don’t know what exactly will happen because I'm willing to bet this power really wasn’t intended for a fucking Spriggan. You are already getting scary strong; this might well make you an equal for me or Duchess, hell, and that’s just right now. When you’re grown, I can’t even imagine...”
Lux hopped slightly and slashed at the air around them. “Hunt!” It creaked out in a chipper tone. Then pointed to itself. “Hunt!” It said in a darker, more insistent tone.
Vrax let The eddies of magic around him bend slightly as he brings his hand forward. [Adapt Life] Starting to dance across his fingertips in a nearly black flicker of life and possibility. The shrine outside thrummed as if Vurune’s attention had suddenly pressed down directly upon the Grove. The fangs of an unfathomable hunter pressed across Vrax’s spine as if in approval of what he was about to unleash.
He paused for a heartbeat, and Lux reached out and grabbed his hand, pressing it to his leafy crown. “Adapt!”
Vrax smiled, and so did a savage god.
[Confirm Elevation Of [Spriggan Tier-1](lvl24) To Apex Guardian]
[This Action Is Irreversible]
[Warning: this creature is sentient and can refuse or direct the elevation.]
Vrax pushed adapt life farther than he thought possible; mana fled from him as he accepted.
[Name Required For Unique Monster]
[Luxovoras]
The room darkened and then lit with blinding light as dirt and pure mana swirled around Vrax and Lux. The outpouring of power slowly settled, revealing Lux’s improved form. Vrax froze in wonder.
Lux looked in happy fascination at himself, already testing his new capabilities. Lux’s bark all along his limbs and torso hovered a handspan from him in jagged chunks, exposing the pristine white wood beneath strewn with veins of pure verdant mana. The bark quivered slightly, adjusting at his will, clicking back into place, and then detaching again in a dazzling display of magical mastery.
Well, that looks fucking awesome!
He had also grown slightly, now coming up to Vrax’s chin, and the crown of leaves on his head glimmered with emerald light like a halo of power slightly crackling with his every movement as pure nature mana seemed drawn to his very presence. Even his claws had the slightest shimmer of savage, barely restrained power along the edges.
Lux looked up in excitement and gave a happy hop, his bark following along with his every movement almost like a second skin. Vrax stepped up. “Okay, buddy, stand still for just a second. Let’s see what bullshit powers you have now!” He touched the crackling halo of leaves along Lux’s brow and channeled Adapt life again to inspect his status.
[Luxovoras Tier-1](lvl24)
[Talents]
[Holy Beast Of Vurune](Divine Talent)
Marked as a new Chosen holy beast, this creature gains strength and speed in any place steeped in Vurune’s influence.
[Blood Of The Land]
Blood spilled by this entity will be absorbed to heal any wounds it has received, even reviving it from anything short of total annihilation.
[Skills]
[Master Of The Land]
This entity may bend the life of the land to its will, controlling plants and lesser animals.
[Mana Cost: High]
[Summon The Bloom]
This entity may create plants from pure mana; the cost scales based on the complexity and size of the created foliage.
[Mana cost: Extreme]
[Savage Adaptation] (Apex Addition)
Revel in the feral fury of combat and slaughter; every part of this entity's body can be formed into weapons made of bark-flesh and mana. Costs increase with the scale of changes adopted.
[Mana cost: Moderate]
Now, now, I think we are ready for the hunt...
***
King Chronus- Hopes End
Chronus stared at the portly innkeeper who was currently gatekeeping his fun. His creased eyes furrowed slightly in challenge. Raphael sighed and stared back at him. “You have had five shots in five minutes. I’m not giving you anything else until those settle. I can tell you are some scary high-level mage and all, but that doesn't mean dick with the pure magically infused spirits you just downed. I thought you were ordering for a table, not yourself, you daft bastard.”
Chronus let out a gruff chuckle. “Fine, fine! I know I'm new and all, but once those settle in and I get a bit of fire in my fingertips, I'll be back!” He staggered away from the bar, slightly leaning on his staff lightly with each step.
Damn, the innkeeper wasn’t bluffing. I haven’t had liquor that actually hit like this since the dwarven envoys visited.
He made it back to his table and settled into a rather pleasant bowl of steaming stew. He languidly swirled his spoon through it while he considered everything going on in the eastern reaches of his empire.
Chronus has gone back to the capital after meeting with Vrax and spending some time among the populace in this duchy. The people were relatively flourishing, but that seemed more in spite of the Duke than because of him. There was also something wrong, something happening behind the scenes that made his skin crawl.
He wasn’t sure what it was yet, but he was sure it had something to do with the Order Of Rembrand. They had become far more numerous than actual Dutchy guards the farther east he went. This far out it simply seemed like they were the ruling force. Often outnumbering the few actual kingdom troops they accompanied.
As concerning as that was, that wasn’t even quite what was giving him this feeling of wrongness. Rembrand making a power play to take over the duchy was hardly even surprising. No, it was an almost imperceptible shift about the paladins, like they were tainted by something dark when before they had just had sticks shoved up their asses and a superiority complex.
Now... Chronus didn’t even doubt most of them wouldn’t hesitate to cut down anyone standing in their way. Between that alarming shift and the results of Vrax’s meeting with the knights. He had made a brief trip back to his castle to let his poor king's guard know he would be out for a while and make sure nothing had burned down while he was gone.
Then he ventured back out to Hope's End. One of the perks of being king was his laughably easy access to teleportation any damn time he wanted. This trip was equal parts information-gathering mission and vacation.
Vrax making a deal with the Abyssal Guard had sealed the king’s need to be a bit more present for whatever transpired here in the next few months. Almost no one other than Dorn, a few kingsguard, and Chronus himself really knew how desperate things were at Hellmaw.
If just a few more portals opened before they could close old ones or even if recruitment dropped further. Nearly any blow there would be enough to potentially tip the precarious balance into calamity. For now it was a slow grinding stalemate as Dorn and his men fought and died to keep a kingdom mostly unaware of the horrors on their doorstep safe.
If Vrax and Dorn became true allies, that could be enough to help tip the scales back in the kingdom's favor. Assuming the crazy fleshcrafter didn’t die and was able turn the forsaken lands into something remotely resembling a kingdom, of course.
Chronus looked up from his stew towards a rather irritable-looking fellow two tables over with a pair of slightly broken glasses perched on his nose and piles of scrolls scattered around him on his table. He kept looking a bit too hard in Chronus’s direction. He was pretty sure if he was remembering correctly, it was the town librarian, Tom.
Ahh shit, did someone actually recognize me all the way out here? That’s just bad luck. I should go nip this in the bud before tonight's objective gets here.
He confidently walked over towards the table with his bowl of stew in one hand and a friendly smile that reached his eyes. Tom’s eyes grew wide, and he looked like he forgot to breathe for a few moments as He gestured at the empty chair opposite Tom.
“Is this taken, young man?” He gestured broadly and waited to sit.
Tom shook his head far faster than he should have. Eyes locked onto Chronus like he was staring at a dragon. Chronus slowly sat down and carefully set his stew in a clear patch on the table. “So I noticed you keep looking over my way; did you happen to have a question? Or were you just enjoying my rather dignified features?”
Tom stuttered for a second, “No, no sir, no question, everything is fine...I, uh, hmm...” He blurted in a sheer fluster.
“Ahh, do you happen to recognize me from somewhere?” Cronus asked with a knowing, threatening smirk on his face; he subtly flexed his powers, and flaxen mana began gathering on just the tips of his fingers.
Tom set his scroll down and gulped audibly. “I, uhh...if I do... I don’t?”
Chronus let out a short laugh, making sure to carefully scan the bar for anyone who might have noticed Tom’s flustered reaction. “Good man! Tell you what, you keep not having any clue who I am, and I can arrange a fun visit to a rather hard-to-get-into archive.”
Tom’s eyes bulged, and he leaned forward greedily. “Sire? Do you mean the crystal Archives?” He whispered.
“Yes, if you never use my damn title again!” Chronus whispered back harshly and rolled his eyes a bit. Tom nodded violently. Chronus noted another figure walking confidently into the bar. “Ahh, now if you will excuse me.”
He lightly picked his way across the bar, plucking a half-dead flower off a table. He hid it in his robes and rewound its place in time and space, restoring it into an incomparably verdant blue rose. With a flourish he pulled it from his robes and presented it to a powerful, lightly flour-dusted figure handing a basket over the bar.
“Martha, what a delight to see you again.” Chronus gave a small bow as he offered the flower to the pleasantly surprised baker.
“Oh, Leyland? Ha, good to see you back so soon, deary.” She beamed a smile and accepted the rose with a slight blush.
“Oh my dear Martha, how could I stay away when a rose such as yourself is hiding on the edge of the wilderness with no one to appreciate your beauty?” He laid it on thick, and based on her rosy cheeks and smile, she was loving every bit of it.
Raphael sighed and took the woven basket of confections, mumbling to himself as he walked away. “See, and that’s how I know you are some high-level battlemage; you’re out here brazenly trying to woo the deadliest woman in town without a damn hint of fear. Wonder why that daft bastard is even staying in town with all the golden pricks running around.”
Chronus looked towards Raphael with a crooked grin.
Ha, I can’t leave until I see how this all plays out one way or another. I'm certain things in this town are about to get very interesting.
[End Of Book 2] [Let me know what you thought! ]