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DraconicFeline rolled 1 100-sided dice:
25
Total: 25 (1-100)
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 Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2014 10:14 am
Character || Biroki
Stage || Sage
Battling || Spitorog
Battle Stat || 40
Defense || 5
Roll Needed || 20-100
Rolled || 25
Outcome || Win
Experience earned ||
23
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DraconicFeline rolled 2 100-sided dice:
87, 30
Total: 117 (2-200)
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2014 10:19 am
Taming || Spitorog
Attack Stat || 40+7=47
Speed Stat || 21+4=25
Intelligence || 5
Roll 1 Needed || 15-100
Roll 2 Needed || 70-100
Rolled || 87, 30
Outcome || Failure
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Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2014 10:44 am
Biroki gasped as he leaned against the door to his house, trying to calm down. He was frightened, terrified to his blazing core, and of what?
A spitorog.
It was ridiculous. They were the most harmless creatures that Jahuar had to offer. They were fat, stupid, slightly pokey, and they made bubbles. Bubbles, by the stars... bubbles.
And he was afraid of them? Of one measly little spitorog?
Absurd... but true.
It followed me... he thought, It followed me all the way from the battlefield in Neued. There had been no doubt. It was the same spitorog that had plagued him those last few days in the camp. Its markings were distinct and an uncommon color combination for a spitorog, especially one from this part of the jungle.
So what if it was the same one? Spitorogs were well known for following people at random, even over long distances. They never really tired, and nobody was sure how they died, if ever. So it wouldn't be unlikely that a spitorog would have followed him home, for whatever reason.
But, no matter how rational Biroki tried to be, he was still afraid. Spirits did exist, and he was convinced that it was one. Something vengeful and strange, out to kill him or, arguably worse, remind him of some terrible sin he had committed. He didn't know what he might have done to deserve reminding, but what if he had?
It was still absurd. He had done no wrong, whatever Zuri might say, and it was a spitorog. Just that: a spitorog. A pudgy, bubbling, harmless frog.
Biroki laughed nervously at himself. Look at him, petrified with fear. He was acting like a child and he had grown up chores to do. So, he should go do them. He opened up the door to leave.
Then shut it again, his heart racing in his chest, the air around him becoming electrified and clingy with his magic. It was out there. The spitorog. Right out there, just outside his door, sitting there. Staring. Waiting.
This was no coincidence, and certainly no mere animal. This was a spirit, obviously a spirit, and it was after him. He whimpered, remembering - as he often did - the woman in the water. He'd been but a boy then, a young, nervous, shy child. She had wanted to kill him, but he'd survived. He'd heard that her spirit now slept again, not to return for a century or so... but was that really the case? Was she the spitorog, come - somehow - to finish what she had attempted? Biroki whimpered, shuddering at the thought. He didn't like spirits, he didn't like being haunted, and he wanted the awful creature to go away and leave him be.
He worked up the courage to open the door and, with a quick movement, picked up the spitorog, ran to the edge of the clearing that ringed his home, and threw the spitorog into the jungle.
He stared at the darkness that had swallowed it, chest heaving with exertion and fear.
Ribbit.
He knew it would be back.
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