Upon the conduct of each depends the fate of all. [Open catch-all, some closed prompts]

[towards_okeanos]

Who: Iskandar and whoever he drags into his nonsense
When: Ieneuer
Where: Aefenglom, Dorchacht Wilde, Aefenglom Wilde, Wilde in general
What: One King of Conquerors is physically unable to sit still
Warnings: Violence, language, alcohol, outrageous acts of (heroic) stupidity. Will add as need arises.


As the new year begins one King of Conquerors dangerously grows restless... so he's going a-questing.

Prompts will appear in the comments below. PM or poke on plurk bitweaver.

More may appear later.

Iskandar has a top level on Return to Dorchacht Event as well.

Comments

[futhark]

The birds on nearby trees take flight now, frightened by the sounds of battle or by the stench that the wind carried away from them.

This is the moment, the perfect one, one of the many he witnessed. The creature's focus is elsewhere, fighting an intense fight against the great warrior of old. Wounded and cut down. A perfect moment, one of the many he took advantage of. His stance switches, grip on the spear flips, only touch needed to activate the enchantments carved along the way. The old stories said when piercing, Gae Bolg's blade expands into barbs and thorns, that courses body through veins. The reality was less literal, but that didn't mean the stories were entirely wrong— This spear has no name, nor tales of its secret capabilities. It won't "always" pierce the heart.

But this time it does, the purification enchantment firing off as well— it's mostly used against the Cwyld infected, which this creature is not— but the purification is not unlike fire and even if the creature was to survive the stab, extensive internal burn damage should slow it down.

Survive it does not. It writhes, lets out one last gurgling sound, and grows a weight upon the blade. Cú removes the spear with one long movement, letting the monster fall on the ground.

"Ha— it wasn't as tough as it looked." He starts ever in a conversational tone, now that the fight is over and he can check the damage they sustained. It's easy to miss wounds and scratches when in the heat of the battle, and the adrenaline will take a moment to die down entirely "Pretty sharp with that blade, friend. Cypriot steel you say?"

Surprised shouts from above tell them that survivors didn't really expect them to come out of it in one piece.

[towards_okeanos]

The beast would stand a chance against one of them but not both. Once the initial shock of its unusual appearance fades it is like any other living creature. It bleeds, it breathes, it can be killed. Its death is swift. It takes only one blow from CúChulainn's spear to end it. Iskandar can't see from the distance but he wouldn't hesitate much to bet that the weapon has enchantments of its own.

Iskandar laughs. "Give us some credit, it had some fight in it. Good thing we had more of it in us!" That he has not even a scratch on him borders on a miracle. At least not any obvious one. It is a boon and a curse that he can push past almost any injury. Still, this time it looks he got lucky. Iskandar crouches near the slain creature to have a closer look. It remains equally monstrous, now that is dead. He gathers a fistful of grass to wipe his blade from the beast's ichor. He'd do it properly once they're back at the camp but this should suffice for the moment.

"It is. A gift from my dear friend, king of Cyprus. It has seen many a battle and not once has it failed me. They make fine blades, the Cypriots." He replies with a smile.

Though a thought crosses his mind. They made fine blades. He doesn't even know what happened to the island nation in later years. The sword has passed to legend, his legend, but it's no Noble Phantasm so by some odd whim of chance made its way to this strange world with him. And his horse.

"Let's get them back to the city."

They were victorious now but gods only know what other dangers lurk in those impassable woods.