Forgotten Pains, and New Beginnings. (High Fantasy, Arwen and Pazzo)

[Pazzo]

Imagine if you will, a quiet, tranquil forest road covered by freshly fallen snow. It's about mid morning, and brightly lit by the sun peeking over the mountains to the east. Clouds to the west are gray, and cover the sky with their solemn gloom. The trees lining the road are ancient and massive, larger than the huge wine barrels used for the aging process.

Along this path, two figures walk. One of them is an older human male, wearing plain but well made brown woolen robes, with a wide brimmed hat, topped with two brown and white pheasant feathers tucked into its leather band. His heard was thick, long and reddish, with two streaks of gray flowing from the corners of his mouth. In his left hand was an impressive looking walking staff about six and a half feet long, made of polished blackened metal. Set in its head was a fist sized blood red ruby that glistened in the morning sun.

Alongside him walked what looked like an overfed corvid type avian, possibly a crow or a raven. Fistandalus was not quite sure, and had no idea why the bird was following him for the past few miles. He did not mind the company. "Well then, Frank." He said in his gruff voice to his companion, in the name that he had given him roughly an hour ago. "How about you fly up high for me, and tell me how far away we are from this fabled inn with the legendary hot-springs, that could supposedly soothe any aliment?"

The bird said nothing, and just kept pace with the wizard, who just grumbled, wincing each time he put weight upon his left leg, leaning more on the staff than he normally would with each step. He considered just changing his shape to that of a hawk or even a wolf, to aid him in traveling faster, but he had made a wager with his compatriot at the university. "Four full flasks of elderberry wine to you, if you can make the journey by foot, in three days or less." The professor of herbology had said to him.

The grizzled mage just shook his head and grumbled, and startled a little as he heard the bird call out, and open its wings, flapping them loudly. Frank flew forwards a little, and then landed upon the arm of a fairly attractive orc female, dressed in rough leather skins, revealing more than a little of her muscular thighs and midriff. Her hair was corded into neatly arranged dreadlocks, tied back against her neck. Her tusks were short, and gilded in small copper ringlets.

Fistandulus squinted his eyes a little, as he opened his mouth slightly as he tried to evaluate her sudden appearance. He lowered his staff, bringing it over to his right side. "Good morning…" He started to say, as the female grinned at him, and in a not so pleasant way. Several other rough looking individuals started to appear from out behind trees, all clad in rough skins, and drawing their longbows, aiming at him. He could hear rustling behind him, and her turned to look, to see more of them.

The wizard clenched his teeth together. There were at least a dozen of them. He inwardly swore, having allowed himself to become so distracted as to not notice a bunch of brigands sizing him up.

The attractive, if rough looking female murmured to him, "And good morning to you good sir." The bandits around her chuckled a little, as he heard bowstrings tightening. Fistandalus pursed his lips to one side, his bushy mustache wriggling a little. "Ah, banditry it is then?" He said in a dismayed tone. "I am but a humble old man, making his way to an inn for the night." He murmured, as his mind race, trying to buy time to muster up some kind of defense.

He took a quick mental inventory of his assets. His staff was formidable, and capable of blasting them all to hell if he wished, but only one at a time. He would never get them all, and would surely be hit by arrows first. They wouldn't kill him, on account of his ring of regeneration. They would however hurt like hell. He could snap his fingers, and enchant the space around him to stop the arrows, but it would take a few seconds to get the spell off, and less time for them to loose their arrows.

"Oh, not so humble on account of that magnificent ruby." She murmured, gesturing to his staff. The wizard's eyes narrowed. This was not going to go well, but at the same time he would not be waylaid by common brigands, not without a fight anyway. "I think you know how this works old man." She said, in a more acid tone, as she approached Fistandalus, with her free hand held out and open.

"Yes. Yes I believe I do." He murmured, as his mouth curled into a grin of his own. "You take another step, and I immolate the lot of you, even after you shoot me." He hissed, his voice taking on a dark, terrifying aspect. The bandit leader stopped advancing upon him, her eyes hardening. "Well then." She said, nodding her head, glancing behind the wizard to one of her bandits, who lifted a heavy crossbow, taking aim…

 

[Arwen Sorensen]

The morning had started out well enough for Meera. Her urges were...well manageable today and the weather offered a slight chill but nothing more. She did not even mind the grey clouds so long as the downpour or the snow stayed at bay for the moment. At the height of around seven feet and three inches, Meera's frame was built like a brick house. Muscle lined with war paint and covered with furs that adorned her added only to this appearance. From her hair, from where brown locks hung wildly, a pair of two wickedly sharp horns. Each a milk white with an eerie black tip. Her tail of a brown coloration with a tuft at the end, and the powerful legs were covered in brown fur leading down to shiny black hooves. You see Meera was a minotaur, and a very impressive one at that. Her line descending from a rather famous band of dread pirates if one was to truly ask her about it. However, it was the same background which caused her so much trouble within the present.

Her ancestors had disturbed the tomb of some mad mage, one which had a curse upon it. The entire family line was doomed to suffer from the malady of eternal rut without end. A rather strange curse in hindsight, but one that tormented her to no end. Even now she could feel the nagging tug of her nether regions to mate and the ache of her large breasts which were swollen by this point. She would have to deal with them later tonight. The barbarian collecting her great axe and pack from her makeshift camp as she snuffed out the embers of her old campfire. It was time to move on and she did not intend to leave a trail for the forests bandits to pick at. From the information she had gleaned from a passing farmer, this place was rife with them. Their leader said to be of particularly nasty sort all things considered. For that matter, Meera had thanked him with a gold coin and went on her way. She did not wish to fight on a day like this if she could not help it.

The minotaur had trudged maybe two hundred yards from her camp when she first heard the echo of commotion from the road. Something clearly had begun to unfold outside the tree line. A glance towards this area revealed a number of shapes out there, all seeming to gather around a lone traveler. Bandits? Only the Gods knew for certain. For the moment she would way her options. The mental math put the odds in the bandits favor but in all honesty she wondered if they could harm her at all. It had been quite a while since anything had, and perhaps today would be no different. Meera would sigh. She would like to rage.

Forest branches were thrust aside as the minotaur broke through the undergrowth with a bellowing noise and enough bovine fury to flatten a small house. Her frame slamming straight into the archer without much warning and driving one of her long curved horns straight through the man's sternum. An oozing sensation rushing over the horn as the angered monster girl shook the man free and tossed him like a rag doll to the side. She brought forth her greataxe in both hands now, the cloud of rage becoming a miasma of bloodlust as she would launched herself at the next nearest living bandit. The axe coming down as if she were trying to cleave him in two like one of the great oaks by the road. It would seem the wizard had his distraction in this moment of time.

 

[Pazzo]

Fistandalus was startled by the sudden bellowing, and saw all of those surrounding him turn their attention to some point behind him. He did not risking turning around to look, and instead took his chance to act. His first action, was to concentrate on the immediate area around him to a distance of five or so feet from his person.

He quickly spat out a single ancient syllable, and he immediately felt everything around him grow a little bit lighter. The bandits nearest to him loosed their arrows right at him, only for them to immediately slow and tumble around harmlessly once the entered his area of effect.

The nearest bandit drew a crude looking scimitar, and advanced upon him. The wizard wasted no time in pointing his finger at the ground just behind where the female orc leader was standing, shouting, and directing the others. The wizard yelled out another syllable with an angry hiss, and a tiny streak of light flew from the tip of his outstretched finger, streaking through the air to strike the ground at where he was pointing.

The spark detonated immediately upon contact with the dirt, blossoming into a huge explosion with a deafening boom. The bandit leader howled in terror as she was immediately thrown upwards by the explosion, as it disintegrated three of the bandits.

A third of them were now no longer a threat, and so Fistandalus spun around on his heel, wincing as he felt pain shoot up his thigh from his bad knee. The bandits were in complete disarray, with two of them having been completely butchered by a huge, raging beast of a creature clad in rough tanned furs, wielding a brutal looking double axe easily as long as the wizard was tall.

Five bandits appeared to still be standing. One of them was gotten close enough to swing his long sword at the wizard, who instinctively brought in his staff to block. Sparks flew as blade met staff, with the bandit ripping his weapon back to strike at the wizard again.

The wizard swore, bringing his hand up to attempt to cast another spell, only to be forced to break it off. This bandit was just too fast, swinging his sword at the wizard again, forcing him to block it with his staff a second time. The wizard yelled out another profanity, poring forth his magical energy into it, turning his shout into a weapon. It struck the bandit square in his chest, making him stagger back a few steps. Fistandalus brought his staff down hard in an overhead swing, crushing the skull of the hapless bandit beneath it.

Four were left, all bearing down upon the creature that had decided to assist him...

 

[Arwen Sorensen]

Violence was a token of her life at this point. A miasma of fury boiled over her and made the Barbarian tear through the next man whom she had targeted earlier. The greataxe biting away at flesh like some dog on the hunt. The spray of red and a sudden wetness gracing her face as she trampled the corpse. Her frame would come around next like a locomotive, hooves digging into the earth and kicking up fragments as she wheeled about.

The next bandit who by this point was currently trying to distance himself would not meet a much better fate. A sharp twist of her shoulders and her axe caught spine straight along the midline. As such the hooded figure proceeded to fold like a deck chair in a wind storm. His frame bent in half at the point of the blow and no longer a trouble for Meera. The loud explosion caught her attention for a moment as the minotaur whirled about.

Behind her fell down dirt, debris and blood from the mystical arts this seeming frail man could project from his fingers. Had she been in a better mental state, she might have done well to take not of this key fact. However, as it was, she only saw fear and dead men within her immediate proximity. Speaking of dead men...a crossbow bolt landed home in her shoulder. A roar of rage escaping her as she whirled about with murderous intent.

Her eyes meeting a rather unfortunate highwayman who was now furiously trying to crank the damn thing back for another round. He would not get the chance to loose his next bolt. The axe went flying through the air, driving deep into his body as the minotaur had quite literally hammer thrown the damned thing straight into him. This left two poor unfortunate souls left for the slaughterhouse.

These two individuals now found themselves between a rock and a hard place. Either fight the man with sparkly fingers who made them explode or fight the monstrous woman who had just cleaved two of their best friends in half. Self-preservation took the better of both of them. Very bravely, these two went stumbling over one another to sprint down the road. Each dropping weapons as they did behind them.

Meera would give a half satisfied snort at the display of cowardice. These weaklings would not come back! With that she would begin to let her rage ebb. Her hooves tromping through the dirt as she went to wrench the axe from her last victim, the blood dripping from its massive steel head. The minotaur looking back to the old man with a quiet look of appraisement. She then spoke in a voice that was much more soft-spoken then her entrance into this mess. The arrow still sticking out of her back as she did.

"You ought to avoid traveling with that gem out. Too many thieving lot in these parts...all too many looking for a quick score."

 

[Pazzo]

The wizard watched the barbarian warrior rip through the remaining bandits, clenching his teeth, and wincing a little as he watched the Minotaur wield that massive two handed axe with a precision greater than a master painter with a brush.

He was more than a little surprised, and a lot more than a little grateful. He was about to loose another spell to assist the warrior, when the remaining two would be brigands tossed their weapons away, and broke out into a dead run deeper into the forest. Fistandalus considered firing off a quick flurry of force bolts in their direction, but decided against it. Best to conserve his magical power for emergencies only instead of showing off.

The wizard's eyes widened a little when the fur skin draped Minotaur spoke to him in a firm, yet soft and pleasant feminine voice. "Well now." He murmured to her, as he glanced to the headpiece of his magic staff, and then to the warrior maiden with the quarrel protruding from her shoulder. "I am in no position to disagree." He lowered his staff, cradling it in his arms, and started to walk towards her as he fished around in his belt pouches.

"Thank you for coming to my assistance in dealing with those ruffians. Please, allow me to return the favor, and attend to that." He murmured, gesturing to the arrow protruding from her shoulder. She must have been strong to ignore the pain she felt, if any at all. From his belt pouch, he withdrew a small spherical bottle.

"Please, sit upon this rock here, and let me see your shoulder." He said, as he gestured to a wide, flat boulder nearby upon the upraised hill she stood upon. "My name is Fistandalus. A humble student of the arcane." He said, as he set the vial down, as well as a leather wrapped healer kit next to it.

"And what is the name of the obviously capable warrior who decided to help me this frigid morning?"

 

[Arwen Sorensen]

Meera would crack her neck slightly as muscle rippled. The minotauress still feeling the tingle of her curse beneath her skin even after the heat of battle. It was as if the only time she was free of it was when in a rage. Her attention would be reclaimed, however, at the sound of approaching footsteps.

The voice of the older man was soft as he approached her in a steady fashion. Her eyes would focus in on him as she hefted the greataxe onto her shoulder. A quiet sort of studying glance holding on her face. This man was still a stranger to her, and because of that she tried to keep him at least at an arms length for the moment. After all, sudden touching had other effects besides the surprise now days.

"You are not. Perhaps you wish to address why you approach with your hand at your belt line. You might make a traveler nervous." She would not take her eyes from him at this point. Assured that she might need to settle this endeavor should it turn foul. Yet his next comments caught her off guard. A visible change in her face showing her surprise as she would look over her shoulder to the arrow. "You wish to help me with this?" A questioning tone held low in her words. She was suspicious.

When he drew for the spherical bottle the axe would be brought in front of her. Silvered steel glinting wickedly as carnage and gore still dripped from the dual axeheads. Her hooves planting in the ground as her tail flicked back and forth. The bovine woman unmoving for as moment as he explained what he wished to do. She was thinking the matter over.

Finally, she would aqueous to his desire to help. The axe raising up somewhat as she mounted it onto her back. Pointing at the wizard and his bottle. "You fix it and that's it. No tricks. Or I fold you backwards till your spine snaps." She snorted with a bit of agitation. Tromping slowly over to unceremoniously drop down on the stone. The minotaur pulling back the fur trading cloak to reveal slinky smooth bare skin. Covered in blue war paint, but very human to the touch.

The arrow was lodged towards the inside of her shoulder blade. It's positioning probably suggesting it would somewhat hurt to remove. Her brown eyes turning back to the small man who had started to move behind her. "My name is Meera." She would remark simply. Her name title enough it would seem to the great barbarian. Her free hand moving up with a small little cloth to clean the blood from her horns. Very carefully removing any flecks of flesh which still coated them before she would put the cloth away.

"You study the arts of the arcane and mystical? Are you familiar with curses?" She would remark gruffly. In her mind, if she could trade this favor for ensuring her curse was lifted, she would be over the moon. Yet it remained to be seen if this man carried such knowledge within his wheelhouse. It was worth a shot however. "Also you only touch where you need to touch...understood?"

 

[Pazzo]

The wizard's pupils constricted a little as he saw the gore slick spike of her massive axe suddenly thrust towards his nose, pissing it by possibly half a milimeter, and then held completely steady. Savage perhaps, but this warrior was possessed of extreme skill and discipline. She most definitely did not fit the stereotype of any barbarian he had ever heard of.

Her apprehension made him curious, though a little healthy paranoia was what kept one alive in a magic and mystery filled reality such as this. "No tricks. And this is a healing potion, though it's best to drink it after an arrow is removed." He murmured as he drew closer. Underneath all of her furs, her body was magnificent. Her well defined muscles were corded beneath a beautiful lightly furred skin, covered with criss-crossed scars of many battles. Yet despite all of that power, she was still quite feminine, and beautiful.

Fistandalus just nodded as she advised him where to keep his hands, and what she would do if they strayed anywhere else. Normally people would just cower around him, given his fame and power, yet for this woman to actually show a little backbone was somewhat refreshing. "Oh, I bet you say that to all the men who find you even the slightest bit attractive." He murmured, a little teasingly. He examined her wound a little more closely. "Hmm." He said, as his eyes narrowed.

"I have been on many a battlefield, and tended to many a crossbow bolt or arrow wound, though you have the distinction of being the first Minotaur I have ever worked on." He said, as he examined the point of entry, and the finger thick shaft of the protruding bolt. Thankfully it was no smeared in shit, as was the old army tactic of causing an infected wound. If anything, it was finely made, with a well lacquered shaft made from cattail reed. The feathers were cut from a pheasant, and threaded to the shaft with oiled threads.

He gently presses upon the wound, and felt the broad head underneath, buried into her muscle. He grasped the shaft near its base, and held it steady. With a strength that belied his appearance, the wizard snapped the shaft cleanly close to the wound, with just enough to grab for what comes next. He grunted, and placed the healing potion into her large, powerful hand, and uncorked its stopper.

"I'm going to have to push this through to remove it." He whispered. As soon as I do, you down that whole potion, as quickly as you can. It shouldn't taste horrible, as I made it with cinnamon brandy." He explained. He then gripped the shaft, and took a deep breath. "On three." He murmured to her. "One…" He did not wait, and quickly bent the shaft outward, making the sharp metal tip make her skin bulge. He then shoved it as hard as he could, making the bladed tip pierce her skin and flesh quickly. He then grabbed it and yanked it out.

It took possibly half of a heartbeat to do it all. Apprehension is often what makes pain all the worse, but with it happening early, she couldn't expect it, and now it was over…

He took a few steps back, out of her reach, should she take an errant swing at him.