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All that physics stuff they kept hocking at you in High School wasn’t hooie after all–tumbling down the grassy hill like a wheel of cheese in one of those funny British contests you watched on MeTube, you only come to a stop when another, equal force is enacted on you:
In this case: a massive, moss-covered boulder.
You hit the side of it with all the grace of a bird smacking into a window before laying flat on the dew-covered greenery beneath you. If you were anyone else you’d have probably broken a rib or an arm, but this world clearly underestimates Anton Peas!
That’s what you keep telling yourself as you try to hold back pained tears, at least.
“Oh good! You’re alive!”
Not bothering to get up, you merely crane your neck with an unsettling ‘<span class="mu-i">crack</span>’ towards the pair of catlike eyes just barely looming above you and the smug grin attached to them. TT, you remark in a dazed tone, you’re okay too…
“Heh! Well I wouldn’t be that good of a Spinner if a little tumble took me down!” She replies with a cheerful wink. “Now where’s that mage…”
Her question is promptly answered by said mage gracefully descending down the hill as if he was being lowered on those wires they use in the old kung fu movies. Landing with nary a sound next to you, Oti studies you with his segmented platter-sized eyes like a State Trooper looks at a pile of fresh roadkill.
“Are you waiting for an invitation?”
He’s gonna get an invitation to an <span class="mu-i">ass-kicking</span>, you snarl as you stumble to your shaky legs! What was that push for, huh?
“Motivation. Stimulating as this little adventure has been, I’m eager to get back to my lab sometime this week.” Shifting his ever-judgemental gaze towards your new trail guide, the Chytree cocks his head to the side.
“Shall we? I told your… friend up there that the survivors will be waking up shortly.”
Before you can ask, you hear a chorus of confused screams atop the hill.
“Ah. That’d be them.” Concludes the sorcerer before making a series of chitters. “Time to go.”
“Hah! Yea, they’re always so disoriented…” Chuckles Tzah-Tzie as she takes a few steps away.
“Well c’mon, legends ain’t gonna write themselves!”
You suddenly wish you stayed with the caravan. The sentiment is doubled when you pick up a whiff of something <span class="mu-i">RANCID</span> in the air…
What’s that <span class="mu-i">stench</span>, you mutter, clutching your nose like it was about to fall off!
“Our way in, Mr. Undying~”
Yea, you shoulda stayed on the cart…
“That moniker is ridiculous. Stop it.”
“Hmmm… How about no!”
>CONTD.
