Recent Content by Frosch

  1. Frosch

    The sound of wood being battered awoke Evander. "Mmmmmmm..." he groaned in protest, adjusting the position of his head on the slightly too-hard pillow. More banging outside. "MMMMMMmm..." he counter-argued eloquently. And yet, the noise continued.

    Evander opened his eyes, then immediately shut them tight, rubbing a fist against them hard. "F*ck off," he growled. The culprits responsible for the noise did not f*ck off. Evander considered his position. One, he had been rudely awakened. Two, his pillow was exceptionally uncomfortable, and he knew it would keep him from falling asleep again for ages. Three, and most importantly, Evander was beginning to become sober. How this had happened, he had no idea, but it was a bad state of affairs to be in.
    Evander was angry. His mind furtively searched for something near at hand to vent his anger upon. Perhaps this god-awful pillow, or that small chair in the corner, or… or the bastards making all the racket right outside. Yes, the bastards. He would show them…
    Only half-aware of his surroundings, Evander stumbled to the window, struggled with the latch for a few moments, and then swung it open wrathfully. His glare fell upon the short man and his five sidekicks at the door. Evander took a deep breath, and bellowed.

    He paused, considered the conversation so far, and then added, just to make sure they understood the message, “F*CK OFF!”.
    Post by: Frosch, Mar 26, 2018 in forum: Retirement Home
  2. Frosch

    Evander grabbed the mug of ale from Dayla, taking in three large gulps before pausing for breath. "Uh, cheers," he nodded to Dayla as an afterthought, and then immediately raised the mug back to his lips.
    Didn’t I order more than one? he asked himself. He looked down at the mug; he could now see two mugs in front of him… both held by two right arms? That didn’t seem right. He was pretty sure he had a standard number of right-hand limbs. Evander blinked hard, and then stared again – the mugs, and thankfully the arms as well, had condensed back down the one apiece.
    But he’d order more than one drink, hadn’t he? Three… no, it had been… more? Less? Thinking, especially about numbers, was becoming harder the longer he sat there. His mug and arm had once again split, this time into four, each pair spiralling the others and inverting intermittingly. That didn’t seem normal… or did it? What did things usually look like? Was it always this purple? And why were his toes trying to talk to him again…
    Ah yes, the drink. The angry demands of the digits on his feet could wait. “Mish, I thinkya furget tha uth...” The remaining words failed to come. He blinked, looked in Dayla’s general direction in hopes that she would get his message, and then collapsed face first onto the bartop, snoring unconscious in a pool of spilled ale.
    Post by: Frosch, Jan 10, 2018 in forum: Retirement Home
  3. Frosch

    A tall, shabbily dressed man stumbled down a Novigrad street, head swaying from side to side as he searched for an open tavern. His regular watering hole down by the docks had been abandoned. Something about a big snake? - He had been in an alcohol-induced slumber, and hadn’t noticed anything. It couldn’t have been that big a deal though.
    In any case, the bartender was gone, and the fire dying down, so Evander had decided to find somewhere warmer and with equally copious amounts of drink. He now wandered down a street he hadn’t been on before, trying not to stumble over the end of the sword hanging at his side, rubbing two pebbles in his hand.

    There! Someone exited a building ahead, revealing a warm interior, chattering voices, and the promise of a welcome drink. Evander lurched towards the door, pushing through it and into Dayla Elendel’s tavern.
    He cast a bleary eye over the room, not really noticing the occupants, finally located the bar, and staggered over to it. He hoisted himself onto a stool, almost slipping off at first but steadying himself by bracing against the bar top. Then he peered with up and down the room, trying to locate the bartender, unsuccessfully.
    Unfazed, he addressed the wall facing him. He held up a hand to catch its attention.
    “Two of whatever will f*ck me up the fastest, please,” he slurred, and then slumped down onto the bar top, eyes hanging sleepily, his fingers continuing to fidget with the two pebbles out of habit.[\COLOR]
    Post by: Frosch, Dec 8, 2017 in forum: Retirement Home
  4. Frosch

    You were named?

    You have been alive for? 620 years.

    You were born as a… A sorcerer.

    You chose to be… A teacher, and a force for good. Now I am but a drunkard.

    You were gifted with… Earth magic. Rock and stone bend to my will. Sand and soil dance before me. I imbue earthen golems with life for a short time.

    You fear… Getting close to people, and being honest with myself.

    You love… Snowdrops, teaching people the wonders of magic, and kittens.

    You may have heard of them… But I don’t remember their names...

    Who will you fight for? I haven’t found something to fight for in a long time.

    What is your history? I was born to parents of human and humble origins. I was told I had talent, and was helped to nurture it. I became powerful, and I used that power for good. I kept my parents comfortable for the remainder of their short human lives.
    I discovered new aspects of magic, and I shared them with others. Some came to me for instruction, others for advice, so I became a teacher, and sat on the councils of mortals and more-than-mortals alike.
    I built a school of learning and was it’s Grandmaster. I fell in love with a human. We knew I would long outlive her, but even as she aged and became frail, I loved here more than ever. We adopted three children, and raised them as best we could. She should have lived and died peacefully.

    But one day, while I was far away, enemies that I did not know I had came and destroyed it all. They destroyed my school, and decorated its ruins with her mangle corpse.
    I killed the perpetrators. And their families, their friends. I think that was a mistake.

    What are your weapons of choice? A sword for the common dangers of the land, and my powers.

    Who is your puppeteer? Frosch (or is he the puppet? D: ).
    Post by: Frosch, Dec 7, 2017 in forum: Retirement Home
  5. Frosch

    Ellyn nodded at the General's request for proof of who she was. She pulled out a leather thong that hung around her neck, a ring dangled from the end of it. The signet ring identifying a member of the command staff of the Impera Brigade. It wasn't a widely know symbol, but the General would know it in a heartbeat.
    "I'm here to discuss the army of undead that is massing to the southeast of your camp," she told him casually, leaning back in her chair. "Lead by a mage named Solomon. But perhaps I should start from the beginning."
    She paused for a moment with a thoughtful look on her face, evidently deciding on where the 'beginning' was, and then continued. "I and your man here, Corporal Ardal aep Skellan, rode to Pontarsfork this evening, and found death. The people are gone; there were a few limbs and bodies scattered about, from the looks of things ripped apart, but it's important to note there there were very few such bodies."
    "The corporal returned here for reinforcements, but while I was there I met two witchers and a third man. They'd been tracking this Solomon from Oxenfurt, where apparently he raised an army and ravaged the city. And then came on to Pontarsfork, for what I can only assume was to add to his army."

    Ellyn stopped there, deep in her own thoughts and giving some time for the General to take it all in.
    "The force we're dealing with," she added quietly after a few moments, "includes almost the entire population of Pontarsfork, and a substantial amount of that of Oxenfurt. It has to be dealt with now before it grows even larger."
    Post by: Frosch, May 14, 2016 in forum: Retirement Home
  6. Frosch

    The evening sun sent out long shadows before it as Ellyn reentered the Nilfgaardian camp. This time she didn't bother pausing at the two guards at the gate; they would remember her, and even if they didn't she wasn't about to stop for a simple corporal when she had so much of importance of her mind.
    She made a beeline for Ardal's tents, keeping Oak moving at a fast pace barely avoiding trampling those that got in her way. Oak for one wouldn't have minded running one of those small humans over.
    Ellyn pulled back sharply on the reigns, and Oak skidded to a halt in front of their destination. Before he had settle back down Ellyn had already leaped off, dashing onward. She spotting Ardal fussing around the tents and men: presumably mustering them for the investigation of Pontarsfork. Well, plans had changed, but the men would still be necessary. In fact, she would need many more.

    "Ardal," she barked urgently as she approached the soldier. "I need to see the commander of this camp. Things in Pontarsfork are much worse than they appeared at first glance." Gods knew they'd looked shit in the first place. "We will need every man in this camp, and maybe then some. Gods help us if your commander doesn't listen to me."

    Stone ground against stone, cracked with pressure, rock chippings fell to the floor, and Evander walked. He leaned heavily on the surgeon to his side, but he fucking walked. A flash of genius, really, and about as far as he had ever stretched his knowledge of magic and sheer power. Evander had never been much of a healer, as evidenced by the scars that marred his body that any mage with a good understanding of healing could have erased, but if he was anything it was god damn tough. He could ignore the constant pain.
    His stroke of genius had simply been to create new limbs. Not grow new ones of course, he wasn't capable of that. These legs and arm were of hard granite, infused into the ends of his real limbs with magic. It fucking hurt, but a small flow of magic staved off that pain, and even if he didn't maintain that magic he could ignore the pain.

    "... miracle of medicine, this will change the world!" The surgeon was rambling at his side. "Riches untold are before us, and rulers shall flock to my care!" Evander tried shutting the man's voice out of his mind. Gods, the man was an idiot. But Evander needed him for now. For now...
    The mage eased himself back into the bed, to rest. This was still a learning process. His left leg still wasn't rotating correctly, and both legs needed be shifted slightly in the way they aligned with the rest of his limbs. As for his left arm, right now it was still a chunk of rock that could only make basic movements. While he worked out those kinks, he could rest here in this small room, alone and shut off from everyone else. Aside from the idiot surgeon.

    "But soon, soon we'll be back in the world."
    "Yes, very soon. Back with a vengeance."
    Post by: Frosch, May 3, 2016 in forum: Retirement Home
  7. Frosch

    Ellyn smiled slightly at Veera's somewhat hostile tone. She wasn't welcome, but the Witcher would kindly condescend to allow her to follow along, was it? A proud woman it seemed. "I do intend to go after this mage, Veera," Ellyn told the woman, "but before I do so, I mean to gather together a few more men. As famed as the skills of the Witcher's are, I don't think just two of you plus whatever your companion is could hope to take him down, and I on my own can hardly add much. More men will be needed to take this monster down if he's already ravaged Oxenfurt." Had the entire town really been overwhelmed? The possibility sent a shiver down her spine. And now he'd presumably added the corpses of Pontarsfork to his horde... a veritable army.
    "There's a Nilfgaardian camp nearby, and I'll be able to have the commander raise it's full force, once I get to him. With that, I'll hunt this Solomon down, and kill him." She turned her horse away, having decided that the conversation was over. "You may accompany me, if you like." And then with a slight pressure of her knees she urged Oak forward in a walk.
    It occurred to her that she was acting just as proud as the Witcher woman. She chuckled grimly at that.
    Post by: Frosch, Apr 25, 2016 in forum: Retirement Home
  8. Frosch

    Ellyn shook her head in response to Veera.
    "No survivors in the village anyway. Maybe some got away on foot, but..." She gazed around at the carnage. A mage called Solomon who could raise the dead? Well, such creatures would explain the sort of injuries the remaining corpses showed. She'd seen stranger things. "It seems you know more about this than I do, despite arriving here afterwards. What I can say is that it has happened quite recently, so we should be able to catch up to this Solomon before long. There should be some tracks around."
    Something struck her then, and a vague look of worry passed over her face. "The undead he controls," she asked Veera, "what exactly does he have them do?" The question was unnecessary though; considering what had happened in the village, she already knew what they were used for.
    Post by: Frosch, Apr 24, 2016 in forum: Retirement Home
  9. Frosch
    As she mounted Oak and prepared to leave Pontarsfork, Ellyn suddenly became aware of three figures moving through the village. Immediately moving to a wall where she could observe them hopefully in hiding, after a moment she realized that two of the people were most likely Witchers, based on their distinctive two swords. Not many people carried two swords, wielding two such weapons was awkward, but it worked for the Witchers. The third man wasn't particularly notable, but given the company he was in, Ellyn didn't think he was a mere nobody.
    Regardless, while she didn't know who had attacked the town, she could be sure that it hadn't been the Witchers, and certainly not just the two of them, despite their famed skill. In fact, they seemed to be doing much the same as she had, investigating the village.

    Ellyn moved out of her hiding spot; more than likely the Witchers had seen her before she them. They were tricky that way. Taking a direct route towards the, lance held across her saddle and helmet-less, she had as welcoming an appearance as someone dressed in full armor could be.
    "Greetings, Witchers and their companion," she called out to them for a short distance away. "I am Ellyn. I'll be blunt with you, I'm looking for who did this; can you tell me anything?" There wasn't any time for subtlety. If any of the villagers were still alive, very unlikely given the state of the village, but if they were, time was of the essence, and the Witchers at least could help speed things up, and perhaps even their companion.
    Post by: Frosch, Apr 23, 2016 in forum: Retirement Home
  10. Frosch
    Ellyn waited until Ardal and his young charges were out of sight over the hill before turning Oak down towards Pontarfork. She stuck the lance in under the saddle girth and drew her sword; it would be a better weapon in the confines of the village as she moved at a walk. First she circled the village entirely, standing on stirrups to peer into the village for any signs of hidden enemies. None were immediately obvious. After a few more moments of silent observation, she took a deep breath and entered Pontarsfork.
    The signs of struggle were everywhere. Doors and windows were smashed, carts overturned, blood was splashed around in violently large amounts, and there was the occasional fly-covered limb. But after pacing through the village thoroughly and entering a few buildings including the inn, what was immediately striking was the lack of bodies. She had seen one or two savagely mangled corpses, limbless and entrails spilled, but certainly not the amount expected from an attack.
    So the bodies have either been carried away, or been eaten, Ellyn reasoned to herself, as she squated down pensively examining one of the mangled corpses. One of the stable boys from the inn, she vaguely remembered, although it was strange that she could recognize the fellow given that half his head was gone. Ripped apart by claws and teeth. And to take on an entire village and win, this must be the work of monsters rather than a pack of wolves. An extremely large group of monsters... That last thought was troubling.
    Monsters that had eaten the populace? Perhaps, but if they had then Ellyn would have expected to see much more blood, many more bones, and perhaps a central area where the beasts had gathered together to feast. She had seen no indication of that.
    But to carry an entire village away... that didn't sound like the work of monsters. Brigands might do that, if they knew of a slaver in the vicinity, but she'd never heard of a slaver so far inland. In either case, there would be tracks leading from the village. It was just a case of finding those tracks.
    Having determined a course of action, Ellyn stood up determinedly and turned away from the stable boys mangled corpse. After a few steps the grotesqueness of the display hit her, and she was driven to her knees, suddenly and violently puking.
    Post by: Frosch, Apr 17, 2016 in forum: Retirement Home
  11. Frosch

    Nodding silently in response to Ardal, Ellyn moved Oak away slightly from Gordon and Matilda, far enough so that she and the soldier could talk privately. She stared intently at the village, her fists clenched tight on the reigns. Death hung over this place, she could clearly see now that she paid attention to her surroundings. She was a fool for not having been aware of it sooner. And she wanted to cry, to scream at the world and ask why this had to happen here. Instead she forced herself to grow cold.

    "I don't think there's anything left alive in there," she murmured to Ardal in a steely tone. "There's no movement," she explained further, directly contradicting her last post GOD DAMN IT. Ahem.
    "Gordon and Matilda need to be kept away from this. They know, or will, what has happened, but they don't need to see it. You should bring them back to the camp." Shifting her gaze from the village towards the two in question sadly, she turned back again to Ardal.
    "If your camp commander will allow it, you should also bring a squadron or two of cavalry back here to sweep the area. In the meantime, I will investigate the village and figure out what exactly happened. If I find anything, I'll either come to you myself, or leave directions on where to find me. And if you don't come back at all, then I'll manage by myself."
    Looking the Corporal dead in the eye, she wondered if he would actually go along with her directions. "Just get those two out of here at the very least," she sighed.
    Post by: Frosch, Apr 6, 2016 in forum: Retirement Home
  12. Frosch

    A gushing breeze tugged at her loose hair as they topped a small rise, and Ellyn looked down at the farmland below, and the village nestled among them. It looked nice, this little corner of the world, with the sun dazzling on the nearby river and the trees around keeping it sheltered from the outside world. It was the out of the way villages like Pontarsfork that stayed constant and safe, for the most part blissfully ignorant of the ravages of war and machinations of politics elsewhere in the world. It felt like it would stay like this forever.
    Oak had stopped at the top of the rise in response to a tug on his reigns, giving Ellyn a chance to muse happily over Pontarsfork. It reminded her of her childhood, such as it had been. Vaguely she questioned why there were no farm folk in the fields, but she dismissed it. They were probably finished. Looking at the town itself though there seemed to be a lot of people around, more than she had thought had actually lived there. Perhaps from some farms further afield, or another town?

    “Gordon, is there something going on in town today?” she asked the boy absentmindedly. She was reminiscing on how she and the other children had spent their time paddling in the ponds during summer.


    Evander awoke to pain. Mind-numbing, body-engulfing pain. It hurt all over. It hurt within his very bones. Thought and mere breath brought a fresh torrent of that pain with each passing second. It wasn't possible to live like this. Death would be kinder. Desperate, he grasped Power, and the flow of it he turned to healing his body. The pain grew less, slightly bearable, and with that lessening Evander was able to use more of that Power to heal. Soon, that unendurable pain was gone, and he could think clearly.
    Vaguely he became aware of someone speaking to him.
    “ you feel? Can you hear me or see me?” Evander turned his gaze to the right, and saw a man in bloodied clothes sitting beside the bed he was lying in. “The fuck do you want?” he rasped. The state of his voice surprised him for a moment.
    The surgeon seemed a little put out by that greeting, but managed to move past it professionally.
    “Sir, I am a surgeon. You were brought to me injured, and I did what a could to help you. Quite a miracle I can assure you, the extent of your injuries...”
    Evander was ignoring him by now. He had noticed his left arm, or what was left of it. It was simply gone half way up the forearm. Panic rising, he scrambled into a seated position, clutching at his arm with his right. What the fuck happened?!
    “...sorry about your arm, truly I am, and, ehm, your legs...” the surgeon trailed off in a politely embarrassed tone.
    Evander shot the surgeon a wildly panicked glare, and tore the blankets off of himself. Hideous red scars covered his left arm and torso, leading down to his legs, which both ended at the knee.
    Dazed, his gaze drifted from his legs to the stump of his arm and back again, passing over the burn scars as he did so. His healing had helped with the scars as much as it could, they looked years old, but his limbs... the greatest healers alive couldn't bring those back.
    The surgeon was now tentatively holding out a mirror for him.
    “You should look...” Evander grabbed it, peering furiously, terrified, into it. His face was a mere mass of distorted, melted flesh. His nose was gone, and his lips stretched back in a thin, gastly grin. Only the area around his right eye was untouched; the other eye was gone forever.
    “I'm sorry. I really did do all I could,” the surgeon told him sympathetically. “But you're alive, at least.”
    Evander simply stared at him for a moment, before breaking into a mad, mirthless, desperate laugh.
    “Thank you, dear doctor.”
    Post by: Frosch, Apr 4, 2016 in forum: Retirement Home
  13. Frosch

    Ellyn smiled and nodded at Matilda.
    "Very well then, we'll leave now. Ardal, perhaps you could some horses for the three of you. Oak prefers not having to carry two people at a time."
    She stood up and turned to leave the tent. "There's plenty of light still, but it would be best to use it as efficiently as possible," she told them over her shoulder as she left the tent. "I'll be waiting outside." She made her way over to Oak and stroked his neck, the large beast pleased to see her but also keeping a close eye on any soldiers that passed, stamping a foot if he decided they came way too near. Ellyn pulled herself up into the saddle, and waited.

    Evander, lost in the blackness of an unnatural sleep, was suddenly torn from it by a whirlwind of pain. It hit his legs first, and traveled up his body in a flash, each inch of skin lost to the fire feeling like an eternity of pain. He screamed. He pulled himself forward with his arms, pushed with his legs. He didn't know if he was heading to or from the source of the inferno. He didn't even know who he was anymore; all he knew was the fire was pain, and he must escape it. His legs stopped moving, although he didn't know how he could possible sense that through all this agony. The flames reached his face, somehow inflicting more pain than he was already experiencing. His screams became louder and shriller, somehow more desperate.
    God, the pain.

    Metal clad guards looked down at the charred body. Their mage leader had just exploded in a ball of fire, some of their comrades were in pursuit of the doppler and his companion sorceress (I don't remember reading that, but I'm going to assume there's at least some attempt of the sort), and yet others were dealing with what may or may not be a nobleman.
    The remaining four had the relatively safer, if much more disgusting job, of seeing if they could help the burned up drunk. They'd managed to put out the flames, and yet they couldn't see how the man could be alive. The legs were almost gone, gleaming white bone shining through all along their length, pieces of charred flesh sloughing off constantly. The left arm was a stump. The face, they made sure not to look at after the first time. They'd all thrown up at least once at this point.
    And yet, there was a heartbeat in what remained of the body. A ragged breath came irregularly, barely perceptible. The guards were sure that their charge would die, and yet they went on with giving him what help they could. They were good soldiers.

    The blackened body was hauled onto the table of a nearby surgeon's, and left alone in the care of that man of medicine. The doctor too had little hope, and yet went on with his administrations.
    A mortal man would have died. A saner man would have given up life. Evander was neither of those things, and survived the treatment. A miracle, the surgeon said. Perhaps it was.

    Lol no, it's plot armor bitches!
    Post by: Frosch, Mar 30, 2016 in forum: Retirement Home
  14. Frosch

    Before Evander could get a word in edge ways, what had first been a tense confrontation became a full on battle, with Alanna throwing up some sort of shield, Adolin baring steel, Kyle turned out to be a mage, and for some insane reason a random passerby decided to query what was up. At least the guards, from the looks of things shooting literally everyone in sight, were acting perfectly normally. He would have done the same in their position.
    But yes, things were getting chaotic. Evander knew that he should have stepped right in to calm the situation, explain that while a doppler, Adolin technically was not of the dopplers the King had ordered to be executed. He wanted to bash their heads together, to tell them to grow the fuck up and shake hands. He wanted to merely watch the slaughter cackling in glee, and when the last was left standing, reward them with a slow death.
    Instead, he did nothing. He had no power, and while he clenched the hilt of his sword with all his strength, he had so little of it he doubted he could draw the thing. The situation was too far gone for him to do anything, and he stood there swaying on his feet.

    "You fuckers are keeping me from my drink," he bellowed, whirling around wildly to glare at everyone, jabbing a finger in their general direction. "I told you what would happen to the next person who did that!" He reached for his Power; there was none. Instead, it seemed as if the ground reached up to him, and then he was lying face down on the ground, consciousness slipping away.
    Post by: Frosch, Mar 24, 2016 in forum: Retirement Home
  15. Frosch

    “Matilda, just look at me.” Ellyn fixated the young woman in her gently firm gaze. “My father didn't want this life of mine for me either. Riding armored into danger hundreds of miles from home, and with few visits back there. He didn't want it, and he voiced his opposition to it, but in the end he realized that what he really wanted was the best for me, for me to be happy. Every parent comes to a point like this, where they must decide between letting go, and losing their child forever. I only spoke to your father very briefly, but I believe he is a good man that will choose to let you go your own way, if you only give him a chance. Go back to your parents, Matilda, and talk to them,” she urged.
    Her gaze switched over to the soldier at her side.
    “You too Ardal. Whether or not her father likes you, you owe him at least a talk man to man.”
    She finished with a small encouraging smile, allowing them to think about this for a few moments. Suddenly she remembered Gordon standing nearby, and she glanced over at him. "What about you, Gordon?" she murmured, almost to herself. "What do you think of Nilfgaardians?"
    Post by: Frosch, Mar 18, 2016 in forum: Retirement Home