Today is the Golden Autumn festival. A festival to celebrate the change of the season and to thank the natural and wild elements of the world for their bounty. Many believe that if nature isn’t thanked every once in a while, nature will treat those who reap the boons and benefits of nature and the wild will cease to receive these boons. This becomes especially dangerous when natural and wild magic is involved. To lose the benefit of a means in which magic can be performed is not something a country is comfortable with. Which means a country's national budget is committed to creating a festival to thank some trees for growing strong and then cutting them down without worrying about druids coughing up a plague of locusts in their cities. Regardless of the case, normal people were more than happy to take advantage of a national holiday and a reason to celebrate.
Ren, Alliot Greenbloom, Bron Stonearm, Linda Bona and Malo Goldleaf were tasked with enhancing security for the Golden Autumn festival. It is unfortunate, but a conspiracy is still lurking somewhere in Longcrest city. The man who put them up to the job couldn’t care less about the reasoning. He just wants to make sure that all threats are dealt with, conspiracy or otherwise. To achieve this, he had them all watch key points of value.
The party was split up. Ren is watching a city gate for trouble or other such threats. She was sitting on a rooftop looking down at people going in and out of the city gate. There was nothing to do beyond hopping down every now and again to point out minor infractions like a juggling alligator being improperly seated in a cart. Most of the day was uneventful and boring. This boring watch duty continued well into the afternoon.
“And you’re sure that all this black powder is for fireworks?” a city guard asks a merchant.
“Absolutely.” the merchant responds. “I have a buyer and everything. A little workshop for fireworks. They’re probably chomping at the bit to get this stuff and get to work.”
“Right.” the guard nods along as he speaks. “There’s a festival going on, so we’re going to need you to be very, VERY careful with these powder kegs.”
“Will do, sir.” the merchant says.
The merchant begins to head drive both his horses to pull his wagon. The horses start pulling the wagon and the merchant gets comfortable in his driver’s seat. As soon as the man’s cargo of barrels leaves the shadow of the city’s walls and touches the sun’s light, a bell at the gate rings. Most people give the bell ringing a confused look. Every city guard at the gate goes wide eyed.
“No way!”
“An alarm?”
“Is someone attacking?”
“Who the hells is sieging the city now of all times?”
“It’s one of those magic alarms. None of us rang it!”
“Shut the gate and go on alert.! Assume this alarm is real!”
The guards scramble to their defensive positions. However, none of it mattered in the next moment. The gate’s arch crumbled as a monster burst through. A scaly orange monster with an elephant’s truck breaks through with it’s head. It leers out at the crowd of people below.
“Holy shit!”
“A monster!”
“It’s Krosstetch! It’s that monster that came in from up north!”
“It’s Krosstetch, the warped wyvern!”
“Guards! Move in!”
The guards rush to their battle positions. Krosstetch the monster foreign to these parts leaps down from the arch on the city wall. As it leaped down, it moved to perform a front flip. The front flip was made especially dangerous as the tail functioned as a spiked mace. It slams down onto the ground and the impact forces everyone away from the epicenter of the slam. From the city walls, or what’s left of it, the city guards shoot down at Krosstetch from above. The musketballs visibly impact with it, however it seems that only a third of the fired muskets managed to pierce the monster. Those that did pierce the monster’s scales sprayed deep red blood on impact. All the guards with a sword were understandably hesitant to approach this monster. Even more are less inclined when Krosstetch spread it’s wings and gave a roar that shook the ground they stood on. The guards are very hesitant to make a move now.
Ren decides to leap off the rooftop she was standing on and tries to plunge her sword into the monster. The blade pierces the monster’s scales, but the blade doesn’t plunge as deep as anyone would like. Even less so with Ren’s arm still in a cast. The blade sinks into Krosstetch’s neck, but the monster only turns to try and look at Ren. It only manages a brief glimpse, but can’t quite get an angle on her. To swat Ren off it’s neck, Krosstetch claws at Ren with one of it’s fore legs. In the face of the approaching claws, Ren pulls her sword out of it’s neck and leaps away to land on the ground.
The warped wyvern looks down at Ren. From the look in it’s eyes, it doesn’t even seem remotely interested in Ren, despite being stabbed in the neck by her. Krosstetch tries to swat her away like a fly. On account of the fact that there was no way Ren could stop a clawed wyvern swiping at her, Ren is forced to leap away or face a crushing blow. Ren chose to take the leap back. Krosstetch then swept it’s tail at Ren to force her back even further. Once Ren put some distance between herself and the monster, it rushes off in a direction opposite Ren. Not with it’s wings, but with it’s legs. It just plain ran instead of using it’s wings to fly.
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Krosstetch ran for a cart abandoned by it’s driver. Unfortunately, he left the horses hitched to the wagon. The impending wyvern rushing at them also gave both horses a spook. The horses figured that they should start running, driver or otherwise. Krosstetch, gives chase. Ren gives chase. All three of these factors head directly into the city where people are trying to celebrate.
“I’m bored.” a young woman says.
The Golden Autumn festival was in full swing. There were carnival games, street performances and a variety of other fun and festive things. Sitting under a cafe table with a parasol, there sit a young woman and two young men. They each have fair skin and deep blue hair, although their eyes are all different colors. They seem to be related, but their eyes indicate some great variety in their parentage.
“This is all so damn boring.” the woman drones on.
The young woman has silver eyes and wears white and silver coat and lined pants with accessories to match these colors. She grows her blue hair out long and ties it into a ponytail.
“Oh, come on.” one of the young men says. “This is a festival. There’s gotta be something here worth a gander at.”
One of the young men cheers. His eyes are blue, a lighter blue than his hair. He wears fine clothes with blue accents and themes. He also sports a pleasant smile to compliment a handsome face. He keeps his hair short and clean.
“You’re the one who thinks we came here to play.” the other man scoffs. “We came here to do a job. This paltry little festival these foreigners put on is none of our concern.”
The other man sneers. His eyes are yellow. He wears what appears to be a ceremonial military uniform with medals decorating his breast. He also keeps his hair in a buzzcut.
“Well, we can’t exactly go out on our own.” the cheerful man says. “So why not enjoy ourselves while we wait for these Irvan fucks? You rather we just sit around in that Duke’s estate all day?”
“As opposed to doing nothing here.” the other man spits back.
“There’s nothing but kids shit here.” the woman scoffs. “Even that arena they have is doing kids shit. They’re playing around with toys and everything.”
“Well it’s not a grand arena.” the stoic man says. “It’s a small place that seats, like, 300 people or something.”
“Where is a woman to find some quality blood sport.” the woman scoffs.
As the three of them wallow in stagnation and boredom at different levels, a horse drawn wagon without a driver rushes past their table.
“Oh! Looks like somebody lost their ride!” the cheerful man says.
As he speaks, a thumping is heard from the direction the horses came from, as well as a rumbling that shakes the floor beneath them. The three turn to face the source of this thumping and find a warped wyvern bolting down the street. The three of them go wide eyed and slack jawed as the wyvern rushes past their table.
“Huh?” the stoic man barely manages to squeal.
“Is that-... was that-...” the cheerful man stammers.
“Wa- wait! Did- did you guys bring your stuff? Y- your weapons and armor?” the woman barely manages to ask.
“No!”
“I didn’t!”
“Fucking, no way!” the woman cusses.
The three of them helplessly look on as a wyvern stomps past them. As they do, a girl with long red hair rushes past their table after the beast. The girl is clearly chasing after something. While they can’t definitively say it was the wyvern or the wagon without a driver, they find her notable.
“Who is that?” the stoic man says.
“I don’t know!” the cheerful man shouts.
“Who cares? Let’s go back and pray to whatever gods you think can hear us that we catch up to them!” the woman rushes down the street opposite the chase.
Ren sheathes her sword and uses her one working hand to wave around and cast a spell.
“Haste.”
Ren began to run at a greater speed. The wyvern whips it’s spiked tail into a building and it crumbles behind it for any pursuer to contend with. Ren deftly leaps from debris piece to another until she lands on a roof and resumes the chase. This idea is swiftly questioned by the voices in her head as Krosstetch slams it’s tail against another building in front of her and causes it to collapse. Ren has to leap over it to barely keep up with the wyvern. Ren points her single functioning hand out at the wyvern to cast a spell.
“Fireball.”
A raging ball of fire charges at the wyvern and impacts against it’s side in a massive fiery explosion. There is no apparent damage. Krosstetch doesn’t even slow down. Ren tries another spell.
“Ice Bolt.”
A sharpened bolt of ice sings as it cuts through the air to find it’s mark in the wyvern. When it meets the wyvern’s scales, it shatters and splinters across it’s scales.
“Chain Lightning.”
Lightning lances out at the wyvern. Krosstetch seemingly reacts to the lighting. It appears to be lightly giggling. It appears to have been tickled by the spell that makes men drop a cold sweat when in a clustered group. Failing that, Ren tries a spell that was made to punch through armor.
“Magic Pierce.”
A beam of pure magic strikes the wyvern from behind. The beam strikes Krosstetch in the hind leg. When the beam clears, there is a visible mark. There is a visible mark on this wyvern’s scales, finally. Krosstetch didn’t react to it, nor it is the wyvern bleeding after the spell hitting it, but there is a black smudge mark on the hind leg where the spell struck. Unfortunately, that isn’t meaningful enough damage. So far the most damaging thing Ren has done to the warped wyvern is stab it with Warumasa. Even if it was only a shallow cut and she can’t use Netami Style martial arts with a broken arm, her sword did the most damage. It’s just that not even the stab was effective. Ren generally doesn’t have a winning move here available to her.
As the voices in Ren’s head despair, whine and complain about the situation, Krosstetch manages to catch up to it’s target. The horse drawn wagon that it was chasing is finally within reach. It lunges and smashes the wagon. The horses are set free once the wagon comes apart. The cargo of barrels also spills forth from the rear of the wagon. With it’s four legs Krosstetch scoops up 4 barrels and a fifth barrel with it’s tail. Once the barrels are in it’s clutches, Krosstetch unfurls it’s wings again and starts to beat it’s wings. As it begins to fly away, the various voices in Ren’s head see one of the barrels on the ground come open. Inside this barrel is black powder. These are all powder kegs. Parsing this new information, the voices in Ren’s head come up with a sinister plan. Ren points her right hand at Krosstetch and she chants a spell.
“Fireball.”
A ball of fire once again is hurled at Krosstetch, however this time the true target are the barrels it holds. As the ball of fire comes close to striking and causing a glorious explosion, Krosstetch looks down at the ball of fire rising up at it. The wyvern lets out a roar. The magically conjured fire vanishes and the wyvern continues it’s ascent. Not willing to give up just yet, Ren turns on her toes and pulls a musket from her cloak. She clumsily fumbles with the musket using her one working arm and points it in the wyvern’s general direction. She pulls the trigger and the strike lights the spark. In a desperate bid to hit the powder kegs, she fires her musket. A moment passes as the musket ball vanishes into the afternoon sky. Using Ren’s Hit Marker skill, she senses that the musket ball never even came close. She just helplessly watches the wyvern fly away.
