Posted by The Basket
on 6/23/2009, 9:36 pm
The road outside Fair Weather. The smoking remains of a wagon lies just off the road, the horses long since fled. Everywhere about are the signs of battle. If any were still around, they would be treated to a most unusual sight – a large wicker Basket, charging up the road, carried by myriad tiny feet.
Reaching the wagon, it turns around in circles as if looking for something. Snapping its lid in frustration, it slams into the side of the wagon with, well, all of the force of a large wicker basket. Nevertheless, it keeps up its assault for a couple of minutes. Little further damage is done to the wagon, though the Basket seems satisfied that it has proved some point.
The Basket next roots around in the wagon, snapping up some supplies not too badly damaged by storm or fire. It stops for a minute, rocking back and forth meditatively. Its work there finished, it hops back onto the road. Something else nearby draws its attention, and it trundles off the road to where a large area is marked off by a strange collection of magic circles, signs and symbols.
With the gleeful destructiveness of a small child, the Basket methodically stomps and scuffs each magical marking into oblivion. If it were capable of biological functions, it would likely...but no, it isn't. It does, however, use a remarkably lifelike mahogany tongue to snag several small objects piled in front of the central arcane seal, swallowing them with every sign of relish before smudging out the last evidence of the recent activities. Finished, it settles down in the middle of the trampled ground, waiting for its Purpose to return.
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