Demigod Quest :: Page 16

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Renowned (112)
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[x] Villagers.

There are people everywhere.

The market square is little more than a square of paved dirt, surrounded by a cobbled path, but it is enormous.

The place was almost suffocating, with the sheer amount of people inside. Men, women, children, walking and running, buying and selling, clubbing and beating...

You grind to a halt. Some unfortunate soul in front of a large orange tent had been clubbed over the head by an armored, thuggish guard. No one as much as batted an eye as he picked him up like like a sack of potatoes and threw him into the street.

...you decide to not go there.

After some deliberation, you end up in front of another stall, which you recognize as one you saw earlier, in the morning. It was a woodcarver's stand - little whittled figures of various gods lay on shelves, alongside more mundane items like cups and bowls. A small sign read: Commissions closed.

You take your place in the line, keeping an eye on...everything.

You see a little girl pocket the purse of an inattentive old man as her accomplice distracted him.

A servant carrying a large create rested against a wall, wiping the sweat off her brow.

An annoyed-looking man is taking out one...two...three bags of gold coins, each the size of your head...for a tiny jar of-

"Hello! How may I help you?"

You snap back to the present, and only then do you register the stallowner (a balding middle-aged man) glaring at you with the hatred of a thousand suns.

You put on what hopefully looked like a friendly smile. "Do you know where a pawnbroker is? I-"

"Big orange tent on the east side of the square," the stallowner said shortly. He gave the next customer an enormous, hate-filled smile. "Hello! How many I help you?"

You figured that asking specifically for the sword would lead you nowhere. Looking for a place where items could be sold, however, could get you somewhere.

You wade through the crowd, which squeezes and jostles and occasionally steps on your toes. The pawnbroker's tent appears within sight.

You knew it was coming, but you groan anyway. It was the tent you saw earlier.

The guard gives you a filthy look as you step inside.

The inside of the pawnbroker's shop is quite unimpressive. You see a modest amount of jewelry on display, a few battered pieces of furniture on one side, and some gardening implements, lying on cheap rugs and tables. What piques your interest are the locked chests in the back, where the true valuables where undoubtedly stored.

The pawnbroker turns out to be a irritated-looking, heavily bearded man who appeared to be wearing a large green bathrobe. "Buying or selling?" he grunts.

"I'm buying a sword," you say, as politely as you can manage.

"Don't see any money on you, sir."

You take out your pouch, which held nothing but your manacles at the moment. But it was a sack that jangled and had stuff in it, and so the man sighed and shoved a large, unmarked casket in front.

The pawnbroker produces a key, glancing at you with casual suspicion. A click and a kick later, the chest's contents are bared to see.

Several swords lay inside, all of them worn and ragged in one way or another. And near the top is one particularly battered sword, with a long line of corrosion running down the blade.

That was yours, you are certain of it. You had it pointed at you often enough.

You motion toward it wordlessly, and the man rolls his eyes and brings it to a table.

"That'll be three drachma."

More than a day's wages for a sword that wasn't even in "okay" condition was preposterous. It was kind of besides the point, since you didn't have any money anyway, but still.

The pawnbroker is starting to stare at you, suspicion mounting.

What should you do?

A Plan

[x] Grab the sword and run for it.
[x] Grab the sword and threaten him with it.
[x] Sucker punch him.
[x] Just leave.

Renowned (112)
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[x] Just leave

Might as well do it the pacifist way. Even though crime seems to run rampant with no law enforcement, I feel like the owner is one of those "death baiters". Pretty sure they have another name among hardcore RPG fans, but it's those NPCs that seem to be easily killable until you actually fight/threaten them and they beat the living lights out of you (*cough* pretty much every comic relief cartoon character *cough*)

What my yearbook quote should be: "Fluorine Uranium Carbon Potassium Ytrrium Oxygen Uranium Bismuth Technetium Einsteinium"

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Memorable (13)
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[x] Just leave

Starting a fight here would be more trouble than it's worth.

So you turn on your heel and walk out of the tent, ignoring the pawnbroker trying his best to fry you with his glare.

The guard is still at his post by the entrance, but he only gives a grunt of acknowledgement before disregarding your presence.

You step out into the square, which was slightly less crowded than before.

Well, at least you knew where your sword was, which was a step ahead of where you were a few minutes ago. Progress. What next?

You had half a mind to go get (or steal) some lunch when the ground started to shake. Again.

Everyone in the market square stopped moving. Hundreds of people, standing still, quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Then the ground erupted from beneath your feet.

You're familiar with it at this point, and you immediately dive aside as the Ankheg emerges.

The crowd screams, people scattering in one direction - away - as the monster uncoils, rising to its full length in the center of the square, its chitinous body glistening in the midday sun.

Just...what was with this thing?

It was way too intelligent for an overgrown insect. It had stalked him for days, it had poisoned you, and now it attacks when you lacked a weapon. It didn't go for the dozens of young, old, and crippled around him, either - easy meals for a predator. And it kept following you with a persistence that was...unsettling.

The Ankheg hisses at you, bent like a sprint, ready to strike.

The guard you passed earlier stares at the monster, then at you, then at the pawnbroker's tent. Coming to a decision, he shrugs and runs away.

Suddenly, an idea sparks to life.

You immediately break into a sprint.

The Ankheg lunges at you, but it hadn't been expecting you to sprint toward it. You slide under its body and make a sharp turn for the pawnbroker's tent, not daring to look behind you.

You wonder what you must have looked like, bursting into the tent with the Ankheg on your heels, a maniacal grin on your face.

You see the pawnbroker, his face contorted into an enraged snarl. And then you see his eyes widen and his mouth open in shock. Heh heh.

"Weapon!" you say in a completely calm voice that is not higher-pitched than usual. "Now!"

To give credit where credit was due, the pawnbroker reacted remarkably quickly. He unlatched something from under a nearby table, and threw:

Choose

[x] A standard longsword, clearly well-used and cared for.

[x] A huge, curved dagger, with red stains around the blade that you're fairly certain aren't rust.

[x] A spear with a blade that single-handedly redefines sharpness, glowing with eldritch runes along the shaft and spearhead, and faint whispers of "fffrrreeee uuuussss..." coming from the filigree along the handle.

[x] A good, heavy stick.

Renowned (112)
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What my yearbook quote should be: "Fluorine Uranium Carbon Potassium Ytrrium Oxygen Uranium Bismuth Technetium Einsteinium"

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Memorable (13)
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Signature by Stuke99, check out his Website Portfolio and his SmiteFire Profile!

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Distinguished (56)
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Renowned (112)
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[x] A spear with a blade that single-handedly redefines sharpness, glowing with eldritch runes along the shaft and spearhead, and faint whispers of "fffrrreeee uuuussss..." coming from the filigree along the handle

The spear flies toward you like a bolt of lightning, aligned directly for your heart.

Your reflexes save you. You snatch the spear from the air, narrowly avoiding impalement.

You aren't sure if the pawnbroker just tried to kill you or not, but you grin anyway. "Thank-gah!"

You jerk around, your hands moving the spear to catch the Ankheg's lunge on the shaft, inches from your throat. You shove it back, and bring around the spear in a horizontal slash that slices through the creature's face like it were made of butter.

You'd feel great if your body hadn't moved of its own accord.

The creature screams as greenish-black ichor pours from its wound, and it turns with surprising speed, swinging its back half like a flail as it turns to retreat.

You can't avoid the massive trunk, which slams into you and knocks you into a pile of cabinets. Some things broke.

You're disoriented and in mild pain, but-

kill

You had to kill it.

chase

You stand up, numb to the splinters in your skin, numb to the noise, and give chase.

You burst out of the tent to see the centipede slithering back to the center of the marketplace. It coils, twisting itself around to look at you. The massive cut across its head is beginning to close, the edges seeming to melt together, and it gives another piercing screech.

This thing is not going to get away for a third time. You were going to end this.

charge

Approach?

[x] A cautious advance.
[x] Charge.
[x] Wait for an opening.

Renowned (112)
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[x] Wait for an opening.

Ik it doesn't make sense since he's a son of , but still...

Signature by Stuke99, check out his Website Portfolio and his SmiteFire Profile!

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Distinguished (56)
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NO! WE MUST DO THE MOST SON-OF- LIKE THING!!!!!!

[x] Charge.

Remarkable (5)
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