Bitemarsh was a deceptive land - not in the sense that the people who have been living there have historically participated in the absence of moral standards that allow them to go about their business of villainy unfettered, though that was indeed true. No, the land itself had the nature of misleading those unfamiliar with it into thinking it was paradise brought to reality. In some ways, it was an obscenely beautiful place, with vast, sprawling stretches of grassland hugging the rocky cliffs and white sandy beaches, and verdant, lush forests that climb along the slopes of mountains soaring into the sky. Tucked between the rolling meadows and underneath the fog that rolled in from the coast were picturesque towns garnished with opulent mansions, castles, and palaces occupied by each of the region's allied rulers, host to great material treasures or prized flower gardens. Without context for the land's corruption and rampant crime, an outsider could mistake these views for a dream of Heaven.
Perhaps the land's beauty was what first inspired people to fight over it. Still, even with a three centuries-old 'peace' reigning between the lords, the idyllic vistas may never be anything other than a backdrop for the work of some of the most depraved individuals to walk the world. However, with such an abundance of the scum, it was natural that, from time to time, there would come along those who seek to exploit Bitemarsh's cornucopia of crime as vigilantes, heroes-for-hire. This is the story of one such bounty hunter...
...and his one-hundred-thousand-pound weighing land whale of a Gryphon.
"Stop dodging my attacks, and just let me kill you!" Barnaby' The Bull' Strangeways screamed at the top of his lungs as he tried and repeatedly failed to thrust his single-edged blade into the flesh of our hero. Wanted for theft of farmers' livestock and several instances of physical assault, the bounty placed on his head was low, only good enough for a couple of days of rest at an inn - something he could benefit more from than the hero turning him into the authorities. He was dressed in what might have once been a shirt but was now distinguished as a flimsy towel barely holding together by some fibers, with a dirty, worn-out traveler's coat over it. His trousers, covered in holes, and caked in mud, have been shortened by the march of time, his thin ankles exposed to the elements. "Bastard! What the Hell is your problem?! You're the one who started this fight, so let me finish it!" The Bull's 30-inch sword clashed against his opponent's 45-inch blade, the resulting grinding between the steel sending sparks flying.
"You know what? You're right. I've been incredibly rude to you for refusing to let you kill me, and I'm sorry. I guess I was being selfish with my life, but it's only fair that you get to take it, right?" Landgrave was just as deceptive as the land he conducted his business in - people took one look at his skinny build and immediately characterized him as an easy mark, someone who could never hope to be a threat to them. But what he lacked in strength, he made up for in agility and skill with the blade - steel was steel, no matter how much muscle is on the arm of who holds it, and it would cut flesh all the same. A slight smirk rose on the human male's face as he looked out at the increasingly indignant bounty, which was only worth a measly sum for successful capture. "...do you realize how stupid you sound right now?" Barnaby's response to the hunter's quip was a bloodcurdling yell as he began swinging his weapon around, desperately trying to get it to land contact with his assailant. But even for each attack that Landgrave couldn't swat away with his sword, he could jump back out of the way.
"You little runt; damn you!" The petty criminal spat, his face red with rage.
"Lots of folks have." Landgrave yawned, unaffected by all the abuse he had received from his target. "Alright, I'm bored." The hero-for-hire raised his free hand to his lips to put his index and thumb into his mouth. A short but loud whistling sound pierced the air as sharp as a sword; its tone carried throughout the clearing outside the town where he had found the criminal hiding out, into the skies above them. After that, Landgrave hoisted the hilt into the space ahead of him so it could smoothly slide back into its sheath. The action of putting away his weapon in the middle of a fight was so abrupt and retrograde to the entire notion of combat in general that 'The Bull' faltered from shock.
"Wh...what are y-you doing?" Strangeways narrowed his eyes in confusion, half-tempted to strike the obnoxious bounty hunter down to the ground right then and there.
"Waiting for Otho," Landgrave replied matter of factly. An awkward silence then was established between the duo. The hero-for-hire took his time to observe the number of grass blades swirling in the wind around them.
In what was rapidly becoming one of the most annoying and perplexing experiences in his life, the petty criminal dared to ask the question in the battle's apparent end. "... who's Otho?" Not long after this question was posed to Landgrave, the sun suddenly disappeared. One moment, it was bright and sunny, with only a few clouds dotting the cerulean Heavens; the next, the duo, along with the clearing - no, along with the whole fucking town nearby - was draped in the shade. With a sudden sense of dread welling in the pit of his stomach, Barnaby Strangeways hesitantly gazed over his assailant's head. He saw a round black silhouette blotting out the noon's light, and it was steadily growing outwards in size...
"That's Otho," Landgrave explained before he leaped up from the ground in a quick jump. This action was taken so the hunter could escape the tremors that ruptured through the land as fifty tons dropped from the sky a couple of feet away from him. The Bull felt flat on his ass as he bounced along the grass, the clearing breaking out in widening cracks that spider-webbed well into the nearby forest and town. Briefly, a cacophony of bells tolling could be heard as the earthquake shook every clocktower. "Don't worry, he's friendly - but I wouldn't recommend running away. People tend to look like prey to him when people are running away." The criminal widened his eyes and felt his jaw slack as the dust cloud dissipated, and he got a good look at what had caused the impact.
Looming over The Bull was a Gryphon as tall and wide as a cottage, a confident, smug smirk adorned on his break sandwiched between two boulders for cheeks. It was hard to distinguish the living, breathing creature before the petty criminal from a naturally raised mound of dirt if not for the soft wobbles that rippled across his ocean of fat fur and features with each breath. The eagle portion of the eagle-lion splice was like a splash of snow adorning the tawny mountain of lard beneath - its long, avian neck was swaddled in a cresting tire of fat that was covered in soft plumage. Those snow-white feathers extended down from his head to his pectoral area; it may not have had the skeletal structure for moobs, but it was still draped in fat, extending down as it gently reverberated from the mighty heart that beats somewhere deep beyond all that flesh. But what took the cake was his stomach, big enough to push up against the birdlike claws slicing the ground close to the bounty.
Otho's vast belly was big enough to smother the ground and swamped out on either side of his torso to act like some massive bean bag chair he could lay on whenever he pleased. With a playful, hungry glint in his piercing eyes, the tremendous fat beast let out a mirthful chuff, blowing hot air across the vagabond's body as a tongue escaped to lick the sides of his beak. "Uh...uhm, I, er..." Mr. Strangeways was understandably at a loss for words as he tried to compose himself in the aftermath of the Gryphon's appearance. Remembering that he had the means to protect himself, he reached for his sword...only for the fat beast to take a single step forward and crush underneath its foretalon. The serrated steel groaned like a dying animal as it warped under the impossible weight before inevitably cracking in half. "...if I come along quietly, do you promise he won't eat me?"
"Are you insinuating that my best friend would eat you? Don't be silly," Landgrave smirked. "You're filthy - he has some standards."
Choice 1: Landgrave walks the bounty back into town to collect the reward for his capture with Otho flying overhead. While in town, he hears of a much more dangerous bounty being issued...with a much better payout promised.
Choice 2: Landgrave hands his bounty to the authorities...but after all the property damage Otho's earthquake caused earlier, he ends up with less money than before!
Choice 3: The Bull decides to try and escape capture - which was stupid. It looks like Otho found himself a new toy to play with!
Choice 4: Otho's stomach lets out a mighty roar of hunger - how exactly does Landgrave keep this big guy fed?
Choice 5: Free Choice!
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