02-08-2017, 05:33 PM
Baldur rose to his feet, dazed from the explosion. How long had he been out? He looked behind him to see that an entire portion of the wooden wall was gone, as if something had burst outwards. The only catch was that he was the only one there. That’s when it clicked. Brooke was gone. He looked in every direction in a state of total panic, but saw no sign of his human companion. Even the revolver she had been carrying had vanished from the ground.
His heart pounded inside his stone chest. He could hear voices chanting odd hymns from every direction. He creeped forward, looking for his lost friend.
“Brooke! Brooke where are you!?” Baldur called out, scanning the area rapidly, though with such tight tunnel vision that it wasn’t doing him much good.
What he did see, however, was three figures in black robes that rounded the corner to face him. Baldur froze as he locked eyes on them, but then heard footsteps behind himself. The Goron quickly turned, only to observe that he had been flanked by three more people.
“It’s alive,” one of the individuals said, with a low but distinctly human voice.
“Take it, too,” another man ordered.
The figures all began to walk forward at the same time, closing the area around the rock man. More came around the corner, and soon he was in the middle of a sea of black robed people. He didn’t know what they were doing here in the wild of the Pale Moors, where they’d taken Brooke, or what they intended to do with him.
He just knew they’d probably never seen a scared Goron.
Baldur let out a screeching war cry that was equal parts adamant defiance and unbridled terror. To their credit, the eerie figures never once broke stride or slowed their pace, obviously used to fear induced reactions from their previous visitors. What they weren’t prepared for was when Baldur tucked his shoulder low and charged forwards blindly.
Torches, knives, and swords were suddenly in the villagers’ hands, ready to combat the stone monster before them. Baldur connected with a villager head on, lifting the man off the ground as he charged. The villager was stuck to him by the velocity, and others in the way were thrown in all directions like bowling pins as the Goron cleared a path.
He entered the odd, ritualistic area they’d visited anywhere from seconds to minutes earlier, depending on how long he’d been out. Already, someone had relit all the torches, just adding to the spooky atmosphere. With some breathing room and freedom of movement, Baldur stopped his sprint, allowing the inertia to throw his victim several feet away from him. He looked around again, able to see a little more clearly now. Villagers were flooding into this place from all directions. This would just like fighting dragon spawn on Death Mountain, except this time they bled a little easier, in exchange for being so pants-shittingly terrifying. He could deal with that tradeoff.
Baldur grabbed a large stone table, just about seven feet long and caked in dried blood. For a being made of rock in such an unfamiliar and unwelcoming land, this improvised weapon was a warm sight, and a little touch of home. It was just imperative that these insane freaks didn’t turn him into the next table.
He swung wildly, hearing the sickening sound of shattering bones and guts squishing as the table struck them with far more power than the human body was designed to handle. Bodies were thrown in every direction, and Baldur was able to hold his ground well enough. The occasional person would get in close enough, but their flimsy blades weren’t too much use against his rock skin.
Finally, the assault stopped. Baldur set the table down, winded from so thoroughly slaughtering this depraved village. One man stood at the front of the crowd, facing Baldur directly. The Goron stood confidently, now, unafraid of the horde that surrounded him. He was in his element, finally, and that was the middle of a fight.
“Where’s the girl?” Baldur demanded of the leader of the pack.
The man did not answer, instead merely waving his left hand. The others began backing up, but Baldur didn’t falter. They continued to make fierce eye contact, which became that much more personal when the leader removed his hood.
Before Baldur could repeat his question, a crack formed on the skin of the man’s face, as if his skin was nothing more than dried glue stretched to its limit. There was no blood to go with it, but it still made the Goron recoil backwards. More and more fractures formed until his skin was merely unconnected squares.
Once more Baldur went to say something, but the villager let out an otherworldly screech as a four headed beast erupted from his skin. The robes and flesh were cast aside as the monster grew to tower above the eroded homes, each head roaring in anger as saliva poured from their fangs. Four powerful legs slammed onto the ground to support to the thick body that connected these heads, and a massive tail began to swing freely. Baldur was speechless by the development, except for one word that had never left his mind since he first arrived in this twisted town.
Nope.
Baldur turned and fled into another alleyway, once more hitting a line of people that dared to block his path and hurling them like ragdolls. This time he heard shouting and screaming from behind him, as he’d clearly pushed the village to their limits. The monster’s roars echoed through the streets and rang in his ears. He couldn’t flee into the open countryside, now. That thing would run him down, and he didn’t need to be its lunch.
More importantly, through all of this, Brooke was still missing. He had to find her and escape this madness. Nothing more. Figuring out what the hell was going on in this town might have been a priority to some, but to Baldur, it was at the very bottom of his to-do list. He just wanted to live.
His heart pounded inside his stone chest. He could hear voices chanting odd hymns from every direction. He creeped forward, looking for his lost friend.
“Brooke! Brooke where are you!?” Baldur called out, scanning the area rapidly, though with such tight tunnel vision that it wasn’t doing him much good.
What he did see, however, was three figures in black robes that rounded the corner to face him. Baldur froze as he locked eyes on them, but then heard footsteps behind himself. The Goron quickly turned, only to observe that he had been flanked by three more people.
“It’s alive,” one of the individuals said, with a low but distinctly human voice.
“Take it, too,” another man ordered.
The figures all began to walk forward at the same time, closing the area around the rock man. More came around the corner, and soon he was in the middle of a sea of black robed people. He didn’t know what they were doing here in the wild of the Pale Moors, where they’d taken Brooke, or what they intended to do with him.
He just knew they’d probably never seen a scared Goron.
Baldur let out a screeching war cry that was equal parts adamant defiance and unbridled terror. To their credit, the eerie figures never once broke stride or slowed their pace, obviously used to fear induced reactions from their previous visitors. What they weren’t prepared for was when Baldur tucked his shoulder low and charged forwards blindly.
Torches, knives, and swords were suddenly in the villagers’ hands, ready to combat the stone monster before them. Baldur connected with a villager head on, lifting the man off the ground as he charged. The villager was stuck to him by the velocity, and others in the way were thrown in all directions like bowling pins as the Goron cleared a path.
He entered the odd, ritualistic area they’d visited anywhere from seconds to minutes earlier, depending on how long he’d been out. Already, someone had relit all the torches, just adding to the spooky atmosphere. With some breathing room and freedom of movement, Baldur stopped his sprint, allowing the inertia to throw his victim several feet away from him. He looked around again, able to see a little more clearly now. Villagers were flooding into this place from all directions. This would just like fighting dragon spawn on Death Mountain, except this time they bled a little easier, in exchange for being so pants-shittingly terrifying. He could deal with that tradeoff.
Baldur grabbed a large stone table, just about seven feet long and caked in dried blood. For a being made of rock in such an unfamiliar and unwelcoming land, this improvised weapon was a warm sight, and a little touch of home. It was just imperative that these insane freaks didn’t turn him into the next table.
He swung wildly, hearing the sickening sound of shattering bones and guts squishing as the table struck them with far more power than the human body was designed to handle. Bodies were thrown in every direction, and Baldur was able to hold his ground well enough. The occasional person would get in close enough, but their flimsy blades weren’t too much use against his rock skin.
Finally, the assault stopped. Baldur set the table down, winded from so thoroughly slaughtering this depraved village. One man stood at the front of the crowd, facing Baldur directly. The Goron stood confidently, now, unafraid of the horde that surrounded him. He was in his element, finally, and that was the middle of a fight.
“Where’s the girl?” Baldur demanded of the leader of the pack.
The man did not answer, instead merely waving his left hand. The others began backing up, but Baldur didn’t falter. They continued to make fierce eye contact, which became that much more personal when the leader removed his hood.
Before Baldur could repeat his question, a crack formed on the skin of the man’s face, as if his skin was nothing more than dried glue stretched to its limit. There was no blood to go with it, but it still made the Goron recoil backwards. More and more fractures formed until his skin was merely unconnected squares.
Once more Baldur went to say something, but the villager let out an otherworldly screech as a four headed beast erupted from his skin. The robes and flesh were cast aside as the monster grew to tower above the eroded homes, each head roaring in anger as saliva poured from their fangs. Four powerful legs slammed onto the ground to support to the thick body that connected these heads, and a massive tail began to swing freely. Baldur was speechless by the development, except for one word that had never left his mind since he first arrived in this twisted town.
Nope.
Baldur turned and fled into another alleyway, once more hitting a line of people that dared to block his path and hurling them like ragdolls. This time he heard shouting and screaming from behind him, as he’d clearly pushed the village to their limits. The monster’s roars echoed through the streets and rang in his ears. He couldn’t flee into the open countryside, now. That thing would run him down, and he didn’t need to be its lunch.
More importantly, through all of this, Brooke was still missing. He had to find her and escape this madness. Nothing more. Figuring out what the hell was going on in this town might have been a priority to some, but to Baldur, it was at the very bottom of his to-do list. He just wanted to live.