The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly part 4
General Summary
Grolm 13, 578
pitch-dark noon!
pitch-dark noon!
When last we saw the SNAFU Posse:
They stood scattered across the blackened grass of what was once Sarsparilla Ranch. The air around and over each of them is thick with silvery fog. No one can see more than five feet away -- no one but those who carry the storm in their blood.
The world smells of rosemary, of garlic, of fertile soil.
Of blood.
Light blazes from windows, doors, and chimneys at Sarsparilla Bunkhouse. Within inches of each aperture it becomes a dazzling, chaotic bloom that wipes out any hint of shape or color.
Near the northeast door to
Sarsparilla Barn:
Methurgh's physical form has dissolved, the Cloven Prince's soul trapped in two bottles sealed together at their necks. Close by, his Hell Woolly defender lies similarly unconscious and slowly dying of its many wounds.
Another Hell Woolly returns to his Dire hooves after a lightning strike to his midsection. He has been instructed by his ruler to "Kill them," a command absolutely meant for the human scholar and the human druid -- almost certainly meant for their little Bee, too!
Near the southeast corner of
Sarsparilla Barn:
Master Kerner is traipsing around as if he owns the place. He exerts himself on the unconscious, weakened person of Rye Hess who was freed a moment ago from demonic possession.
The Herd linked ranch hands together to form Hell Hand Duos. If the demon has been repulsed, does the Duo bond remain?
Two Briarseed Child have arrived within order-hearing distance of their maker. They may prove useful in seeing to the two Hell Hands from Larchblossom Ranch.
Against the southern face of
Sarsparilla Bunkhouse:
The Banshee remnant of the Storm Shepherd, freshly fed on both the spirit of the sheep and the spirit of the possessing demon that make up a single Hell Woolly, has not yet found satisfaction. She has nearby options for a second course:
- Inside a birdcage constructed to serve as a Pisky gallows, a Kobold clutches the blood-soaked remnant of his chef hat to his head with one claw. In the other, he holds splintered bits of a Hell Woolly's weapon tip. He has been healed back from the brink by divine energy, but he is not well. His blood has already dripped once upon the Mysterious Book.
- Were it not for the intense fog spread over the heart of Sarsparilla Ranch, hints of a mobile person might be seen within the bright lights of the Bunkhouse.
- Perhaps 30 feet away, a Hell Woolly rushes away from the horrific wail of an undead predator.
- If Three continues on her current struggle through the magic thicket of Plant Growth, she will eventually encounter either Zhang Sephia or Xifeng -- either of whom might have a strong enough soul to sate a Banshee's need.
Beyond the northwest face of
Sarsparilla Bunkhouse:
Ranger Bruthazmus, carrying Stormborn Sorcerer Miro Teague on his back, is three seconds away from tripping over something in the heavy fog.
That something is not Plant Growth thicket.
Nor is it the corpse of a badly scorched Hell Woolly, smothered in the leaves of a Cabbage then drained of its blood.
It's Ranger Horn.
Badly beaten, terrified, incense-annointed blacksmith Emory Horn.
When the Banshee arrived to tear into the Hell Woolies who were murdering their prisoner, Ranger Horn stumbled away toward the nearest light. Once the immediate adrenaline wore off, once the blood loss started to catch up with him, he continued to crawl along the eastern edge of the sudden thicket.
Horn does not know about the oncoming ranks of Blood-sucking Cabbage. He only knows that he heard the agonized scream of a dying sheep ... then, after a brief silence a similar death-cry from a second sheep, cut off in mid-bleat. The fog swept over him between those two terrifying sounds. He no longer remembers where anything is, any place where he might be safe.
Even the magical fog cannot muffle the wail of the Banshee, somewhere to the southeast. Where can he hide from the undead?
Despite everything he has faced, Miro Teague is a good soul.
Unfriendly, aggressive thoughts are trying to take root in his heart right now. They long to rend and tear, to rip apart the wailing challenger. The faint scent of blood in the soothing fog makes these thoughts feel stifling -- as if trapped under the blanket of Miro's compassion. Trapped right in there with the muscle of his heart, pulsing with every beat.
Beyond the northernmost corner of
Sarsparilla Bunkhouse:
Topiary Rex is in bad shape. He needs to restore his health by consuming plant and animal mass, the fresher the better. Fortunately he is surrounded by a magic thicket sprouting from druidically enriched moist, fertile soil!
And he can hear four Hell Bovines near the heart of the thicket! Master will be pleased if Rex gobbles down one or two of those, yes?
Beyond even the
Thicket of grass, shrubs, and Cacti:
Some of the Briarseed Children toy cruelly with their captured Hell Bovine. Can we make Nine bleed from a thousand cuts before she comes apart at the seams?
Two of the Briarseed Children tear into the two horses with the mutilated legs.
Any moment now, one of the two will follow the scent of human blood in the fog to where it seeps from Bull and Gore Hester. While it's true that they are now ranch hands again, yesterday they were a Hell Hand Duo. And they slept in their clothes. They still smell like the smoked herbs used in the possession ritual: garlic, rosemary, and sea salt, all smoked over a mesquite fire. That makes them valid targets in the service of Master Kerner.
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Notes
