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The stimulation of terror plus the performance enhancing potions set Rylan's sprint at a blistering pace. She was across the village and winding down the sloped path to her home on the ranch in a matter of seconds. There was a violent tremble of the earth that she had no way of predicting and her body was thrown across the ground for a distance. Rylan didn't waste half a second to continue running into her house, scowling and swiping at the dirt that had gotten onto her spendthrift-swordswoman attire.
As soon as she was inside, Rylan went to her potion supply and stocked her belt and satchel with as many vials as they could hold. She proceeded to shove plenty more of the thin tubes into her skintight leggings, chilled by the smooth glass that pressed against her skin. Then she got a leather backpack and stuffed it with clothing for a week, taking care to make tasteful decisions regarding fashion and avoiding wrinkles. On top of them she packed containers of food and water and beauty products and more super fluids until the bag could barely shut.
The thing with these "super fluids" is that they can, often unexpectedly, produce psychoactive effects on the user, especially when consuming copious amounts daily like Rylan. Her lifestyle sets her mind on a shaky fence between reality and delusion and typically she has a good handle on distinguishing the difference. As otherworldly as it had appeared, the sight of the horde that crept towards the village struck a feeling of fear in her that was too real to ignore. Deciding early that she didn't owe the village her life, she planned to be as far away as possible by the time the undead arrived.
"The castle is crying!" Harlyn wailed. "Oh, but it pains old Harlie to see these village people, all these people, in such a miserable state! How can they be left like this? There must be something that can be done, some way to save them…"
With some gestures of the hand and a growled incantation, Harlyn unleashed the trauma of his childhood unto the people of Ordon Village. His spell gave birth to many delusion-beings that would plague the place with horror and hauntings until every last villager was a lunatic not unlike the mad jester himself. That was Harlyn’s gift to the forest.
He then commanded his followers to march back to the Castle and he impatiently prompted his nightmare steed to depart at full speed. As he rode out, Harlyn hung sideways off his mount with one arm outstretched and he snatched a baby girl directly from the arms of her mother who was trampled under him.
Dina tore up the grass as Rylan rode northwards despite the weight of baggage and a bedroll. Through the woods and she would travel a bit further to get out harm’s way, she thought. Then she would reapply makeup and decide on her next step.
As soon as she was inside, Rylan went to her potion supply and stocked her belt and satchel with as many vials as they could hold. She proceeded to shove plenty more of the thin tubes into her skintight leggings, chilled by the smooth glass that pressed against her skin. Then she got a leather backpack and stuffed it with clothing for a week, taking care to make tasteful decisions regarding fashion and avoiding wrinkles. On top of them she packed containers of food and water and beauty products and more super fluids until the bag could barely shut.
The thing with these "super fluids" is that they can, often unexpectedly, produce psychoactive effects on the user, especially when consuming copious amounts daily like Rylan. Her lifestyle sets her mind on a shaky fence between reality and delusion and typically she has a good handle on distinguishing the difference. As otherworldly as it had appeared, the sight of the horde that crept towards the village struck a feeling of fear in her that was too real to ignore. Deciding early that she didn't owe the village her life, she planned to be as far away as possible by the time the undead arrived.
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Moments after setting foot in the village, an abrupt quake had Harlyn’s herd of undead crouching for stability. At this second, his expression of excitement quickly sank to a worrisome discourse with himself. He was getting this unfamiliar, unsettling sense that something was terrible wrong. Before he had even gone on to start rounding up village folk for Joarm, Harlyn was shrieking at himself and had fallen into a panic. At the same time, he felt like he was being summoned back to Castle Town by the power of the dark deity himself."The castle is crying!" Harlyn wailed. "Oh, but it pains old Harlie to see these village people, all these people, in such a miserable state! How can they be left like this? There must be something that can be done, some way to save them…"
With some gestures of the hand and a growled incantation, Harlyn unleashed the trauma of his childhood unto the people of Ordon Village. His spell gave birth to many delusion-beings that would plague the place with horror and hauntings until every last villager was a lunatic not unlike the mad jester himself. That was Harlyn’s gift to the forest.
He then commanded his followers to march back to the Castle and he impatiently prompted his nightmare steed to depart at full speed. As he rode out, Harlyn hung sideways off his mount with one arm outstretched and he snatched a baby girl directly from the arms of her mother who was trampled under him.
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Rylan frowned as she walked through her stable, fearing the worst for her animals. However, she didn't stop to contemplate which horse would be her best option. Dina was her obvious choice. An elegant palomino with a flowing white mane and white bootlike leg markings, the horse reflected its rider in her stylistic superiority. The steed even had a golden earring of her own. A healthy, swift mount too, but that’s besides the point.Dina tore up the grass as Rylan rode northwards despite the weight of baggage and a bedroll. Through the woods and she would travel a bit further to get out harm’s way, she thought. Then she would reapply makeup and decide on her next step.
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