04-22-2017, 11:55 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-23-2017, 12:34 PM by Kelly MacAryn.
Edit Reason: Initially, just one word. But then I got going...
)
The intensity of the rainfall increased again, raising a dense cloud of ankle-high mist as the fast, fat droplets exploded on the weather-beaten cobblestones. As far as the traveler could tell though, few people were going indoors.
They don't seem bothered by the rain. But then, I suppose if they were then they wouldn't live in a place that was named for its gloomy weather.
Inclement weather aside, the first order of business was to contact Doctor Regal. In order to determine how best to execute his mission to the tangled Green - and indeed, to evaluate whether going there was the best decision - Kelly needed more detailed information; he needed tactical and strategic background. Hopefully, the Doctor would be able to provide it.
Drafting a message to the mysterious scientist didn't take long. It was completed and sent by the time Kelly's intimidatingly shod feet had carried him the remaining, dismal distance to the Darkshire city gates. PepsiCo headquarters hadn't responded to Alan Mayhew's request for instructions yet, so the psychic set both of his inboxes to forward a notification to his wristcom if he got any new messages, then closed the dataverse window and bid the city farewell.
Getting the attention of a guard was a simple matter, and in short order the massive, iron-bound wooden doors groaned open, rumbling and splashing. With just a few brief strides beneath their looming limestone frame, Kelly was back on the Moors.
The journey back to the Nexus gate wasn't nearly as arduous as the vicious, blood-soaked midnight trek that had first brought Kelly to Darkshire.
There were several reasons for the change. The traveler had grown stronger for one - the return of his telekinesis made many formerly challenging enemies seem trivial, and his overall potency, both mentally and physically, seemed to have increased since he'd awakened from his recent coma. For another the Pale Moors, while still very dangerous, were far less threatening during the day, raining or not. He was actually able to go more than two hundred yards without having to fight for his life.
Probably the largest contributing factor, however, was that this time Kelly had summoned himself a ride. It was true that he'd proven woefully incompetent at piloting a hover-cycle, but the psychic figured that while you could theoretically crash such a vehicle in thousands of different ways, there must be a limit to how badly a person could drive something with actual wheels.
Fortunately, despite the similarities to his last, disastrous attempt at transportation, Kelly actually proved to be pretty good at handling a mountain-bike. The mud made the going slippery, but he'd put chains on the tires, so traction was only a minor issue. With his staff floating along behind him, held in a telekinetic grasp, the psychic made good time.
Even sparing the time to deal with three ogres, a wandering skeleton-warrior, and a small horde of zombies, it only took an hour for the traveler to reach the shimmering, mist-shrouded portal to the Nexus. He was soaked to the bone, shirt stuck to his chest and ponytail drooping, but in spite of the weather and the stress of his exertions, the psychic's spirits were high.
He brought the bicycle with him. He got the feeling it was going to come in handy.
They don't seem bothered by the rain. But then, I suppose if they were then they wouldn't live in a place that was named for its gloomy weather.
Inclement weather aside, the first order of business was to contact Doctor Regal. In order to determine how best to execute his mission to the tangled Green - and indeed, to evaluate whether going there was the best decision - Kelly needed more detailed information; he needed tactical and strategic background. Hopefully, the Doctor would be able to provide it.
Drafting a message to the mysterious scientist didn't take long. It was completed and sent by the time Kelly's intimidatingly shod feet had carried him the remaining, dismal distance to the Darkshire city gates. PepsiCo headquarters hadn't responded to Alan Mayhew's request for instructions yet, so the psychic set both of his inboxes to forward a notification to his wristcom if he got any new messages, then closed the dataverse window and bid the city farewell.
Getting the attention of a guard was a simple matter, and in short order the massive, iron-bound wooden doors groaned open, rumbling and splashing. With just a few brief strides beneath their looming limestone frame, Kelly was back on the Moors.
***
The journey back to the Nexus gate wasn't nearly as arduous as the vicious, blood-soaked midnight trek that had first brought Kelly to Darkshire.
There were several reasons for the change. The traveler had grown stronger for one - the return of his telekinesis made many formerly challenging enemies seem trivial, and his overall potency, both mentally and physically, seemed to have increased since he'd awakened from his recent coma. For another the Pale Moors, while still very dangerous, were far less threatening during the day, raining or not. He was actually able to go more than two hundred yards without having to fight for his life.
Probably the largest contributing factor, however, was that this time Kelly had summoned himself a ride. It was true that he'd proven woefully incompetent at piloting a hover-cycle, but the psychic figured that while you could theoretically crash such a vehicle in thousands of different ways, there must be a limit to how badly a person could drive something with actual wheels.
Fortunately, despite the similarities to his last, disastrous attempt at transportation, Kelly actually proved to be pretty good at handling a mountain-bike. The mud made the going slippery, but he'd put chains on the tires, so traction was only a minor issue. With his staff floating along behind him, held in a telekinetic grasp, the psychic made good time.
Even sparing the time to deal with three ogres, a wandering skeleton-warrior, and a small horde of zombies, it only took an hour for the traveler to reach the shimmering, mist-shrouded portal to the Nexus. He was soaked to the bone, shirt stuck to his chest and ponytail drooping, but in spite of the weather and the stress of his exertions, the psychic's spirits were high.
He brought the bicycle with him. He got the feeling it was going to come in handy.