Thanks to Hermit's good timing we're able to sneak in this update!
"The Feeld of Goodness"
(Mostly by Hectichermit)
As faint rumbles of the chaos that reigned in the distant city of Armor Games, the hermit fiddles with a new contraption he managed to piece together looking like an overlarge bagpipe with spindles of hoses connected to a humming munchanism that puffs white smoke. Grabbing a sack of these "Good Herbs" he thrusts a pipe into it and it begins to suck out the plant matter, a wheel spins and cranks churn the munchanism lets out a squeal of smoke that hisses, taking a deep wiff of the alleviating cloud the hermit mumbles "Ahhh, what a fine sample", normally those first exposed to such a strong anesthetic would pass out into a 2 day coma. But more then a decade of exposure and experimenting with mind numbing and distorting concoctions the hermit has developed an extreme resistance and mental stamina that an allure of toxins seems to radiate from his body, which tends to mask him an miasma. A few seconds pass and a green and orange tablet pops out of another tube that feeds into another but far smaller sack that rattles with at least 2 dozen other pellets.
The hermit looks across the field that stretches nearly half a mile across and wonders if he'll ever collect enough in time. As he begins to refill his empty sack he hears something barking from the the other side of the shrubs, another good herb, "Where is this hermit of yours Strop, Rawr", a kindling of spit fire burns a hole in the bushes which the hermit spies a large dragon, a purple cloud waifs towards him. Uninterested in his previous work, and irritated enough by the flagrant destruction of his precious garden the hermit marched towards the Dragon threw the growing cloud enveloping his hedgerows. The hermit reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small vial of blue green liquid and pops open the cork. A flurry of energy engulfs the cloud and it turns from a meandering purple to a crackling thunderstorm of white energy.
As the others stare at the mysterious phenomena before them, the cloud rises into the air booming with lightning and sparking electrical maelstroms, a tornado forms at the center of the miniature hurricane and at the base holding up the vial the hermit smiling a scorning laugh "Hey YOU! DRAAGONE!", the hermit pops the cork onto the vial and throws it towards Devoidless, "Catch." The vial splatters across the hard scales of the dragon and seeps into his body. With a white flash the dragon is turned into a Dwarf, one thing dragons hate is dwarves because of the long history they share of fighting each other for gold and other trinkets. With a wicked grin the hermit struts towards the group.
"Hermit, what the hell!? I asked you to prepare the 'good stuff', not turn our transportation into a dwarf." Strop was clearly unimpressed, hands on his hips, fairly shouting while DM and Devoidless were still trying to figure out their new relationship dynamic now that the latter was no longer a dragon. "How are we going to fly back to the city now?" Devoidless found his voice, which was several shades softer and lighter than his original gravelly dragon grunt, so in trying to emulate his former glory, he ended up rasping like he was afflicted with laryngitis.
"Humph, What Kind of Ally is this Strop!? Attacking a moderator with such a device.", strop utters "Umm", the hermit interrupts "A Mod you say, well I though you were just a grumpy ole dragon who had stumbled upon my modest abode and decided to Burn thing, that is what dragons do, anyways I don't think mods from Armor City have much authority here so far from their niceties." Devoidless immediately started protesting, but Strop held his hand up, anxious to resume proceedings. "He didn't know, you were probably away on one of your trips when he arrived." Strop regains his previous train of thought, "Well what about the plan, Hermit?" the hermit remarks "O well this is not a problem, there is always a remedy, I am sure we could use another pair of hands and having a dragon huff and puff around the field isn't a good thing." Devoidless scorns the hermit, "Why you crazy little man if I wasn't in this despicable form I would show what a true fire was."
The hermit guides the others to a small shed next to a rickety cottage that had more plants and vines growing forth from it. Opening the shed with a word, "A magic Seal" the hermit remarks to the others, "if it were to be opened by others it would lead to unimaginable things." Waving a finger towards Strop beckoning him in, he walks a little hesitant towards the door, wondering what sorta things the hermit had stored there. A warm candle lights a room twice as big as the shed seems to be, the walls a solid stone, not a flimsy wood as the outward appearance looked the hermit taps on another door and a column of hanging contraptions fling out, "With these we can make these" pulling out a green and orange tablet, "These are a concentration of the Good Herbs, about 25 to one, so we don't have to carry tons of the plant. I think that a hundred should do for the size of Armor City, I have about 25 already" looking at a map on the wall, one of the ninja pony's own designs.
A few minutes later Strop goes and explains the contraptions to the others, Devoidless still trying to manage his new form, falling every once in a while, guess dragons are not so good on two legs. Strop continued onto "These things are suppose to keep us from passing out from the smoke exposure that the machine tends to release" Holding out what looks like to be pink goo" the hermit said that if you chew this it will counter act the intoxicating effects, he also mentioned it might have a slight(under exaggerated) numbing effect to taste for a few days"
After about 20 minutes of trial and error everyone began to understand the operation of the 'Autopillator', not long after they were steadily gathering samples from the field, as directed by the hermit they were suppose to collect the "Green Cabbages", though there seemed to be more then twenty other plants, some lovely some grotesquely abominable. The hermit had warned that the prettier ones tend to be more potent... as DM found out, not in being rendered unconscious, but suffering the side-effect of her hair turning a rather luscious shade of green (Strop elected not to notify her until after everything was over). After nearly an hour of hasty work they seemed to finally have more then enough of the pellets.
"Well," Strop said, dusting his hands. "I'm impressed, Hermit. You've really outdone yourself with that pill machine. If we live through this remind me to thank you more adequately."
After they return to the glade where the hermits cottage was the hermit offers a brew of murky brown liquid, some decline but the hermit insisted Strop has had it before...in its more underdeveloped stage. Warily, Strop drank it, belatedly realising that he couldn't taste anything anyway, but noticing that he did feel a little revitalised. The hermit pours a red drink that smells of sulfur for Devoidless, not wanting it the hermit hearty laughs "I guess you like being a Dwarf?" Devoidless instantly snatched it back and chugged it down, and a moment later in a puff of smoke and a thunderclap he was his dragon self.
"Why you little-" he began, reaching for Hermit, murder in his eyes. This time DM, back in her former role, snaked the whip around his claws and pulled them together. "We don't have time for that, 'voidy."
"No, especially not now," Strop said, peering out the window. "Look."
Over the horizon, in every direction visible from that window, people, vehicles, even planes approached. It seemed safe to assume that they were also coming from every direction not visible from that window.
"Great, we're surrounded," DM remarked dryly.
"Not to worry," Hermit assured her. "I have herbs for every occasion."
"Do you mean herbs for them, or herbs for yourself?" Devoidless snapped.
"How about you go, and I'll handle this lot," Hermit shrugged, rising. "I am the herbalist, you should not underestimate me."
Strop opened his mouth, about to say something, before clenching his fist and rising. "We should go. They're probably going to follow us anyway."
"You heard him 'voidy," DM said, cracking her whip. "Time for a running takeoff."
As they taxied onto the dirt path in the field, Hermit stood by the hut, watching the raiders close in. There were too many to count, surely if they all converged on the field there would not be room to even move. Strop tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest.
"Good luck," Hermit said. Strop settled himself onto Devoidless' tail, and readied his bow.
"Good luck and godspeed." With that, DM cracked her whip, Devoidless lumbered, then galloped down the dirt path, leapt up and with a mighty beat of his wings, pulled away into the clouds.
---
Looks like trouble for Hermit! Armed with the pills that could save the city, the trio hasten back to the walls. Has the other team been successful in their bid to place the marker? And what will become of Hermit, with certain doom closing in on his field?
I'm busy with wedding business for the next couple of days but I'll try to have something for you by the middle of next week. THIS IS REAL.
