Space Dad
Dagda
Just call it an adventure and it ain’t so bad!
Job: Pumpkin Picking
Post Word Count: 1,690
Job Word Count: 1,690/1,500
Muse: x/10
Music: The Spook
Items Used IC/OOC: Item 1, Item 2
Active Spells: Spell 1 (Duration: x/x)
Post Word Count: 1,690
Job Word Count: 1,690/1,500
Muse: x/10
Music: The Spook
Items Used IC/OOC: Item 1, Item 2
Active Spells: Spell 1 (Duration: x/x)
Dagda hummed a little tune as he strode along. The sound reverberated through his chest. Every few feet he would reach down and twist a pumpkin off its vine with ease, then stand up and toss it in his hand while he inspected it. Once the massive man approved, he would place the pumpkin in the wheelbarrow before him. It was pleasant to partake in such a mundane task. Dagda was more than willing to help when he found a flyer in Talonia. It had asked for mages of all kinds to head to a farm nearby and help harvest the pumpkins.
As he walked through the field, Dagda mused about pumpkins. They didn’t exist on his home planet, but then again not many plants did in the high alpine territory in which he grew up. At most, his people would eat tubers, short mountain grasses, and any sort of fruits they could find on the outskirts of the lowlands. He had tasted a berry once, and it was lovely. His own diet consisted mostly of meat, but upon his arrival in Earthland, he had discovered that the people here used plants to make all kinds of foods. Pumpkins could be made into pies, sauces, and even drinks! Dagda was curious to try them all.
As he reached down to pick another pumpkin, the titan felt a sharp pain on the back of his head. He whirled around, brow furrowed and one hand covering the place that had been attacked. Dark brown eyes caught sight of a murder of crows in the distance that were sat atop a humanoid straw figure. He’d heard of scarecrows before, but this one didn’t seem to be doing its job very well. The birds cackled in amusement at his pain and confusion.
Dagda frowned, then returned to his harvesting and attempted to ignore the birds. They were mere pests and would be easy to deal with, but he didn’t want to go out of his way to attack them. The task at hand wasn important to him. He loved to help other people.
The titan felt another peck at the back of his head, followed by the flapping of wings. With a grimace, he continued his work. Another peck, and he was getting annoyed. A third, and he whirled around. One large hand raised and swiftly chopped the bird out of the air, sending it rocketing into the dirt. A puff of dust flew up as the body landed. The other crows cried angrily and dived at Dagda, their sharp beaks open and ready to peck. One by one he hit and grabbed the birds out of the sky, ending them quickly and placing them in the dirt. When they were all deceased, he bowed his head and whispered a little prayer for them. “May your soul rest peacefully with the World Spirit.”
With a sigh, Dagda returned to his task. Killing the birds was a necessity, but he didn’t like ending innocent lives of animals so frivilantly. He hoped the World Spirit would forgive him. From behind, he heard a cracking and shuffling sound. The man turned once more to find that the crow’s carcasses had formed into one giant, gnarled beast. Dagda’s eyes opened in surprise. “What are you?” he queried, but the beast only attacked. The titan raised his arms in an X to protect himself from the crow-man’s first attack. He then drew one fist back. Skin cracked and transformed into stone, forming a fist made of blueish-gray slate. Dagda grabbed the crow beast’s shoulder to steady it and rammed three quick punches into the creature’s abdomen. The sound of crunching bones and flesh could be heard beneath his stone fist. The creature let out one last, strangled cry before collapsing into a pile of feathers.
Dagda brushed off his hands, then casually grabbed the wheelbarrow and continued on his way. There was no moral issue for him with killing a monstrosity like the crow beast, as it was magically-made with intent to attack. He realized that the crows may have been predisposed to be an enemy in the first place, and that eased his conscience a bit. As he passed by the scarecrow and down the row, Dagda could swear he heard a faint laughter. He picked up another pumpkin and heard the sound again. The whistle of metal through the air was the only signal Dagda received of the attack sent his way. The titan quickly covered the back of his neck with his hands and crouched down a little. The skin on his back rippled and turned into a pinkish colored granite.
The scarecrow’s scythe bounced harmlessly off the plane of Dagda’s stony back, raining the dirt in a shower of sparks. It let out a frustrated sound and raised its weapon once more. Dagda crouched down and leaned forward, putting his weight on his fists. He then kicked both legs out straight behind him, his boots hitting the scarecrow square in the chest. The enemy was launched backwards and dropped its scythe.
Dagda stood once more and hurried over to grab the scythe. As he tossed it between his hands to test the weight and grip, the scarecrow scrambled to its feet. The clothes on its chest region had been torn open by the kick, revealing a glowing gemstone-shaped thing nestled within the straw. Dagda tilted his head curiously. Was this thing somehow powered by the gemstone? He wanted to know more, but it seemed that the creature wasn’t exactly the 'sit down and talk about it over a drink' type.
Without its weapon, the scarecrow had little left to fight with. Hands of gnarled burlap reached out and formed into fists. Dagda advanced, swinging the scythe around him menacingly. The scarecrow struck out, but he chopped off one of its hands. It took a step, but the stake that made its leg got sliced off as well. The other hand was quickly separated afterwards, then the whole lower torso was detached. With one last swing, Dagda cut straight through its torso, shattering the magic gemstone-thing within it. One last screech left the creature’s mouth before it ceased to exist.
The titan crouched down among the straw remains, picking up each chunk of what was a lacrima, unbeknownst to him. The light glowing within it had died and only shards remained. Just what was this magic that had created the creature? Was it something that could be created or harnessed? He stowed away a piece in his pocket so he could study it later on.
Dagda hadn’t noticed the creeping fog that had started across the field while he was observing the lacrima. It was low to the ground around the edges but raised up a few feet as it went. The black fog curled around his feet and Dagda turned to look at the advancing cloud. He was starting to get annoyed at all the sudden attacks that were preventing him from picking the pumpkins. Hopefully whatever this thing was didn’t attack and just left him alone.
He wouldn’t be so lucky, however, because the creature that emerged from within the mist looked very sinister. A large jack-o-lantern sat in place of its head and sharp, claw-like fingernails sprouted from each hand. Its creepy grin and beady eyes stared the titan down, but Dagda raised his chin in defiance.
“Stop where you are and leave me be,” he called to the pumpkin man, his deep voice rumbling across the space between them. The creature paused for a second, then continued on its trajectory with a grin.
“I said stop!” Dagda growled, becoming frustrated. Was there no peace to be had in this pumpkin patch? All he wanted to do was help a farmer out. The creature floated closer, its chains clinking with the movement. It summoned a ball of black magic in its non-lantern hand and hurled it at Dagda with a cackle. The titan dodged. Fury was bubbling inside him, and each attack only fueled it. The man didn’t like being angry, but this was just too much.
Another few rounds of dark matter were sent his way. Dagda managed to dodge two, but the second two hit him in the arm and shoulder. Pain seared through his limb. He grunted, trying to bear the attacks, but he had had enough. The pumpkin man began to summon a large ball of energy. Dagda decided to end it there and then.
“CEASE!” the titan roared, his voice echoing loud and deep throughout the field. It scared off a flock of birds in nearby trees. The field fell silent and the pumpkin stopped in his tracks at last. It was too late to calm Dagda now.
The man began to transform into his Leviathan form. In mere seconds he had become a golem many stories tall, made completely of blue-gray slate. Glowing runes appeared on his long, rocky arms and his massive fists nearly reached the ground. Titan Dagda let out a growl that shook the trees. He was done asking nicely.
Before the tiny pumpkin man below him could react, Dagda raised his boulder-like fists. Punch after punch rained down on where the pumpkin man had once stood. Each strike caused the dirt around it to explode until the field was covered in a dust cloud. Dagda punched and punched until he started to calm down. As the dust settled, the titan realized he had mostly destroyed the field. A large crater decorated the previously even ground, and at the bottom sat the mashed remains of pumpkin, lantern, and cloak.
Dagda transformed back into his human form, taking deep breaths to calm his anger. Guilt pulled at his gut. He hadn’t meant to destroy the field, but the continuous threats were interfering with his job. The wheelbarrow was miraculously still intact and sitting askew on the ground. A few pumpkins had fallen out, but Dagda replaced them gently and made sure none had broken. He wheeled his collections out of the field to return to the farmer along with an apology. Dagda didn’t look back.
As he walked through the field, Dagda mused about pumpkins. They didn’t exist on his home planet, but then again not many plants did in the high alpine territory in which he grew up. At most, his people would eat tubers, short mountain grasses, and any sort of fruits they could find on the outskirts of the lowlands. He had tasted a berry once, and it was lovely. His own diet consisted mostly of meat, but upon his arrival in Earthland, he had discovered that the people here used plants to make all kinds of foods. Pumpkins could be made into pies, sauces, and even drinks! Dagda was curious to try them all.
As he reached down to pick another pumpkin, the titan felt a sharp pain on the back of his head. He whirled around, brow furrowed and one hand covering the place that had been attacked. Dark brown eyes caught sight of a murder of crows in the distance that were sat atop a humanoid straw figure. He’d heard of scarecrows before, but this one didn’t seem to be doing its job very well. The birds cackled in amusement at his pain and confusion.
Dagda frowned, then returned to his harvesting and attempted to ignore the birds. They were mere pests and would be easy to deal with, but he didn’t want to go out of his way to attack them. The task at hand wasn important to him. He loved to help other people.
The titan felt another peck at the back of his head, followed by the flapping of wings. With a grimace, he continued his work. Another peck, and he was getting annoyed. A third, and he whirled around. One large hand raised and swiftly chopped the bird out of the air, sending it rocketing into the dirt. A puff of dust flew up as the body landed. The other crows cried angrily and dived at Dagda, their sharp beaks open and ready to peck. One by one he hit and grabbed the birds out of the sky, ending them quickly and placing them in the dirt. When they were all deceased, he bowed his head and whispered a little prayer for them. “May your soul rest peacefully with the World Spirit.”
With a sigh, Dagda returned to his task. Killing the birds was a necessity, but he didn’t like ending innocent lives of animals so frivilantly. He hoped the World Spirit would forgive him. From behind, he heard a cracking and shuffling sound. The man turned once more to find that the crow’s carcasses had formed into one giant, gnarled beast. Dagda’s eyes opened in surprise. “What are you?” he queried, but the beast only attacked. The titan raised his arms in an X to protect himself from the crow-man’s first attack. He then drew one fist back. Skin cracked and transformed into stone, forming a fist made of blueish-gray slate. Dagda grabbed the crow beast’s shoulder to steady it and rammed three quick punches into the creature’s abdomen. The sound of crunching bones and flesh could be heard beneath his stone fist. The creature let out one last, strangled cry before collapsing into a pile of feathers.
Dagda brushed off his hands, then casually grabbed the wheelbarrow and continued on his way. There was no moral issue for him with killing a monstrosity like the crow beast, as it was magically-made with intent to attack. He realized that the crows may have been predisposed to be an enemy in the first place, and that eased his conscience a bit. As he passed by the scarecrow and down the row, Dagda could swear he heard a faint laughter. He picked up another pumpkin and heard the sound again. The whistle of metal through the air was the only signal Dagda received of the attack sent his way. The titan quickly covered the back of his neck with his hands and crouched down a little. The skin on his back rippled and turned into a pinkish colored granite.
The scarecrow’s scythe bounced harmlessly off the plane of Dagda’s stony back, raining the dirt in a shower of sparks. It let out a frustrated sound and raised its weapon once more. Dagda crouched down and leaned forward, putting his weight on his fists. He then kicked both legs out straight behind him, his boots hitting the scarecrow square in the chest. The enemy was launched backwards and dropped its scythe.
Dagda stood once more and hurried over to grab the scythe. As he tossed it between his hands to test the weight and grip, the scarecrow scrambled to its feet. The clothes on its chest region had been torn open by the kick, revealing a glowing gemstone-shaped thing nestled within the straw. Dagda tilted his head curiously. Was this thing somehow powered by the gemstone? He wanted to know more, but it seemed that the creature wasn’t exactly the 'sit down and talk about it over a drink' type.
Without its weapon, the scarecrow had little left to fight with. Hands of gnarled burlap reached out and formed into fists. Dagda advanced, swinging the scythe around him menacingly. The scarecrow struck out, but he chopped off one of its hands. It took a step, but the stake that made its leg got sliced off as well. The other hand was quickly separated afterwards, then the whole lower torso was detached. With one last swing, Dagda cut straight through its torso, shattering the magic gemstone-thing within it. One last screech left the creature’s mouth before it ceased to exist.
The titan crouched down among the straw remains, picking up each chunk of what was a lacrima, unbeknownst to him. The light glowing within it had died and only shards remained. Just what was this magic that had created the creature? Was it something that could be created or harnessed? He stowed away a piece in his pocket so he could study it later on.
Dagda hadn’t noticed the creeping fog that had started across the field while he was observing the lacrima. It was low to the ground around the edges but raised up a few feet as it went. The black fog curled around his feet and Dagda turned to look at the advancing cloud. He was starting to get annoyed at all the sudden attacks that were preventing him from picking the pumpkins. Hopefully whatever this thing was didn’t attack and just left him alone.
He wouldn’t be so lucky, however, because the creature that emerged from within the mist looked very sinister. A large jack-o-lantern sat in place of its head and sharp, claw-like fingernails sprouted from each hand. Its creepy grin and beady eyes stared the titan down, but Dagda raised his chin in defiance.
“Stop where you are and leave me be,” he called to the pumpkin man, his deep voice rumbling across the space between them. The creature paused for a second, then continued on its trajectory with a grin.
“I said stop!” Dagda growled, becoming frustrated. Was there no peace to be had in this pumpkin patch? All he wanted to do was help a farmer out. The creature floated closer, its chains clinking with the movement. It summoned a ball of black magic in its non-lantern hand and hurled it at Dagda with a cackle. The titan dodged. Fury was bubbling inside him, and each attack only fueled it. The man didn’t like being angry, but this was just too much.
Another few rounds of dark matter were sent his way. Dagda managed to dodge two, but the second two hit him in the arm and shoulder. Pain seared through his limb. He grunted, trying to bear the attacks, but he had had enough. The pumpkin man began to summon a large ball of energy. Dagda decided to end it there and then.
“CEASE!” the titan roared, his voice echoing loud and deep throughout the field. It scared off a flock of birds in nearby trees. The field fell silent and the pumpkin stopped in his tracks at last. It was too late to calm Dagda now.
The man began to transform into his Leviathan form. In mere seconds he had become a golem many stories tall, made completely of blue-gray slate. Glowing runes appeared on his long, rocky arms and his massive fists nearly reached the ground. Titan Dagda let out a growl that shook the trees. He was done asking nicely.
Before the tiny pumpkin man below him could react, Dagda raised his boulder-like fists. Punch after punch rained down on where the pumpkin man had once stood. Each strike caused the dirt around it to explode until the field was covered in a dust cloud. Dagda punched and punched until he started to calm down. As the dust settled, the titan realized he had mostly destroyed the field. A large crater decorated the previously even ground, and at the bottom sat the mashed remains of pumpkin, lantern, and cloak.
Dagda transformed back into his human form, taking deep breaths to calm his anger. Guilt pulled at his gut. He hadn’t meant to destroy the field, but the continuous threats were interfering with his job. The wheelbarrow was miraculously still intact and sitting askew on the ground. A few pumpkins had fallen out, but Dagda replaced them gently and made sure none had broken. He wheeled his collections out of the field to return to the farmer along with an apology. Dagda didn’t look back.
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