Th3Breadnought
Loafing around on SH since 02/26
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2026
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Wrote this for fun while practicing, and was encouraged to share it, but also don't want to clog the Feedback threads for people seeking dedicated help with craft.
Disclaimer: While heavily d&d based, I fly fast and loose with cannon and mechanical rules. Contains mature subject matter without explicit content apart from brief violence. Strong language. Word count roughly between 6k & 6.5k.
Bartuc sat outside the modest home of their hostess, sharpening the mighty axe he always carried- taller than any of his companions who were off doing Shamshel knows what- he himself still taller than them in a seated position. Ornate plate clean and off to the side in the house, the morning sun settled comfortably on his tunic, pants, and grey flesh as coffee settled in his stomach. Blue eyes on his work as one clawed hand held the rock, the other his axe. Hair arranged in dreadlocks, facial hair short.
One of the children approached with awe and unearned confidence. Seven, maybe eight years old. No doubt finding a half-orc as exotic as his weapon. "Do you kill people with that?" Asked in the same tenor as his favorite food.
He didn't look away from his craft. "Ya know, that's a rude question to ask someone." But he couldn't completely banish a smirk.
"...sorry sir."
"Are you really sorry?"
The child blinked. "...no. Not really."
"Then don't apologize. Nobody likes a people pleaser. Certainly not the ladies."
The child made a vexed face, and Bartuc suppressed a snort of amusement.
"...yes. I kill people with it." Said flatly as the rock slid.
"Why?"
"Because the people and things I kill hurt other people. And they don't pretend to be sorry about it. Unless they want you to let them go... so they can keep hurting people."
"...why do they hurt people? And not... care?"
Bartuc shrugged. "I don't care. That's for the clerics, and my brothers from other chapters, to fuss over. My oath demands they be stopped. So that's what I do."
"Can I become an adventurer?"
"Anyone can. But you'll need a bit more muscle on those arms... like from those chores you're supposed to be helping your mother with." A frown and shifting posture manifested with a groan. "I've never met a respectable adventuring party who would take on a member that wouldn't help their own mother. Certainly not me."
With that the child was off, and a young man of nearly twenty-five approached. Another human, not imposing in height. Thin. A tunic and pants under a midnight blue traveling coat. Brown hair short and mildly unkempt- tinged in early silver-, eyes brown and face fair if... tired. "Morning." The young man greeted with a yawn.
"Morning. Where's Ebrik?"
The young man leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "Shopping."
"...and you are..?"
He shrugged. "I dunno. My regularly observed whatever it is I do here."
Bartuc shook his head with a quiet chuckle.
"Where's the princess?" The young man inquired.
"I'm not her babysitter. And she hardly needs one, Aedan."
"...fair."
"Besides, I assumed you knew where she went... I know you like to watch her leave." An orcish fang poked from his grin.
A faint red crossed Aedan's face as he scratched the back of his neck. "...like you have a vow of chastity."
"Maybe not. But I'm subtle."
"...I don't leer."
"I didn't say you did. Awfully defensive though..."
Aedan sighed.
"...anything from your sponsor?"
Aedan's wry frustration shifted to a frown. "No. Like the last three times you asked. He's not exactly chatty... kind of a long distance thing. And I prefer the silence. In case it needs to be said."
"...alright."
Then quietly. "If that changes I'll tell you."
"Thank you." A brief silence followed. "...they might not be equally costly, but everyone makes mistakes, Aedan."
"Stop, I'm gonna blush again..." with the least amount of energy Aedan had ever put in any sarcasm. "I'm gonna go see if Mildred needs more hands. Even a mage hand. Least we can do for the roof and food."
"Ah, yes. More humble aspirations than elvish royalty- single mothers. Don't be too aggressive with that mage hand."
"F-fuck off..!"
Meanwhile...
Lauriel held a soft smile as she let Mildred's oldest daughter, Emily, lead her by the hand. Emily was full of energy, wearing faded but warm colors on her simple dress. Just recently turned ten, and simultaneously carrying herself with the dignity of a deputy mom and effortless wonder of a young girl in a relatively safe and familiar community. Lauriel for her part wasn't going to wander through town in her custom half-plate. Instead, her dark green cloak sat snuggly over the dark leather of her shirt and pants, footsteps silent in her fine boots. Blacks and golds with subtle crimson accents decorating her attire. Everything from her ears to her unearthly fair and flawless complexion betrayed her as cut from a different cloth. Her strawberry blonde hair tied into an elegant bun, a few strands framing her face. Sea-green eyes taking in the humble town with novel curiosity, and if nothing else appreciation for their hospitality despite their poorly concealed exotic curiosity. An ornate and silvered scimitar with a more subtle curve, both edges sharp, sheathed at her side the only hint of danger.
But as far as Emily was concerned, Lauriel was a girl *and* an adventurer and the first elf she had ever seen and could make magic lights! Princess hadn't entered the discourse. Nor should it.
There was plenty of distraction besides.
Lauriel tried to take everything in and ignore the smell of such... humble... setting.
The... odor... but, she had to keep in mind they didn't have the aqueducts and bathhouses that were common in her distance isles, nor the architectural innovation and emulation of the capital, here in these rural reaches.
But they were far from being without their charms. "Do you shop for your family?"
Emily nodded proudly. "Yep! I know the best stalls and stores." She leaned in, quieter. "...are the boys making you do all the shopping?"
She let out a short, but full laugh. Smile steady. "No, but sometimes if you want something right; you do it yourself. I'm sure you understand."
Emily thought. Then kept thinking. Then dared. "...Ms. Lauriel... can I ask you something a little rude?"
She suppressed a chucked, letting a smirk form. "Is it how old I am?"
Emily blushed. "Yeah..."
"Two-hundred and nineteen. My people think of me as twenty-two, so to speak."
Emily let out an impressed sound as her mind reeled. Big numbers with no bearing on her life or education through a dynamic combination of homeschooling and the local chapel.
"Wow... what does elvish sound like?"
"Kyratias wi taso ro auxakilio tarmasha."
Emily blinked, like poetry and song washed over her. "That sounds so pretty!"
"It means 'thank you very much for your help today.'"
"Is it true that it's called 'moon-speak'?"
Lauriel could not intercept a subtle eye twitch, hardly directed at Emily, but paired it with a dry laugh. "No, it is not... our language is called Eldarthiel."
Proceeding along, they entered the market square; humble but sufficient and the product of honest labor. Lauriel had already drawn much attention, standing out with her attire, fey-like visage, and attractiveness. The former two of primary note, as she would wish. And once coins began emerging from the small pouch at her sash, in response to simple whispered code words, the attention amplified on track with Emily's ceaseless wonder.
Lauriel navigated it with pleasant charm and confidence as she acquired a mixture of foods and provisions to cover the mundane nuances of adventure, and semblance of a preservable balanced diet rather than whatever bachelor hodgepodge her allies would opt for with the consideration of a raiding party.
Her own shopping eventually concluded, one basket of goods found itself handed to Emily who blinked in surprise. Lauriel smiled and tucked a strand of hair out of Emily's face and behind her ear. "For the imposition. Let your mother know I'd be greatly saddened if she attempted to refuse."
"Thank you!"
"You're quite welcome." She replied warmly... as her ear twitched and her keen eyes calmly scanned the surroundings.
Five men. Human. Leather armor under coats, one in ring-mail. Armed. Having been following them with amateur subtlety. Signaling to each other. Three keeping to the edges of the street. Two attempting to be a part of the crowd.
"Let's head back."
Could be mercenaries, though unless especially amateur she'd expect better equipment. Petty bandits more likely... robbers, potentially ransomers presuming any elf to be a person of import, rapists. None were mutually exclusive nor could she discount danger to Emily given the depravity and barbarism humans were capable of, present company excluded.
Much as she expected, once the liminal space between town proper and the humble house was reached, three of them had looped ahead to bar their path. One with a hand on the hilt of a blade. Another, in ringmail, with both hands on a greatclub resting on the ground. A third with a crossbow. Behind her and Emily approached a spearman and a bowman.
Emily stopped and blinked, her mouth opening and closing, keeping composure only as Lauriel's left hand found her shoulder and offered a soft squeeze. "Do excuse us, boys."
The apparent leader smirked. "Sorry, milady. I'm afraid as newcomers to the community, we's gonna need to collect a bit of a donation towards protection money on behalf of the local authorities. Dangerous times, all that. And maybe if you behave yourself and cooperate with a little... interrogation, we let the little girl go home with her basket and all her teeth."
Lauriel's expression evened. "How gracious of you. I've a counter proposal for you: make way for your betters, or our goodbyes will be swifter than our introductions, and you lowly cretins afforded only as much mercy as is convenient... and only for the benefit of our audience."
The leader spat. "So much for goodwill. Get em lads, keep the elf alive. See if she's so high and mighty with her face in the dirt-" the crossbowman beside him fell, a knife in his eye. The archer on the other side of the formation following in kind.
Lauriel lifted her foot for a single step, then vanished and reappeared some thirty feet ahead, now behind their bruiser, her drawn blade appearing impaled through his heart from behind. The great club and man fell with unceremonious thuds as she drew it from the body and with both hands on the hilt, directed the tip to the leader's throat.
She glanced at the spearman who stopped dead in his tracks.
He raised his arms. She allowed an imperious smirk. "It learns." Then in a fluid motion, tripped his leg put from under him and brought the pummel of her blade down on his head just as it collided in the ground, knocking him unconscious.
She sheathed the blade as she stood, noting the spearman running for it, and reached for her bag with a different codeword, drawing forth a shortbow and arrow.
The shot pierced his leg and sent him falling with a string of profanities.
The last conscious one sat up with a pained groan and glance at the arrow in his leg, pulling an ominous green vial from his pack. But suddenly found himself unconscious as well from a thick boot to the head. The dwarf, clad in fine and beautiful half-plate, long black beard deliberately braided. Grey eyes calm, if firm. Complexion pale bordering on white as was standard for mountain dwarves. An arquebus rifle and ornate warhammer on his back. "Making friends wherever you go, eh elf?"
She rolled her eyes ss she approached Emily, who hadn't moved, offering her a canteen and urging her to drink while returning a hand to her shoulder. "Master Ebrik. I hope your morning has been productive."
"Aye. It was. Healed a few flus, delivered a baby. Did... what I could for some of their craftsmen given means available. No doubt you're finding the world outside your isles quite... disorderly, relative to Dominion sentiment and enforcement." He bound the incapacitated bandit, then approached.
Lauriel quietly exhaled. "It has its charms all the same."
"You're the most humble elf I've ever met." He remarked with a chuckle, continuing his approach.
"I seem to recall I'm the only elf you've ever met."
"Exactly."
"Well, in the spirit of reciprocity, you're the tallest dwarf I've ever met."
Ebrik stopped next to Emily, just a bit taller than her. And huffed. Emily giggled.
Ebrik considered his options. Then revealed chocolate, far more exciting to Emily than water. A look of triumph on his face.
Lauriel permitted a short laugh as he walked Emily back, and she sought out what passed for law enforcement in these parts.
Back at the house, Aedan eyed his target with controlled breathing, and a narrowed glance of focused concentration. Refusing to give an inch or show a hint of doubt. With a regulating exhale, he tightened his grip on the simple axe...
Bartuc glanced back and forth from the same seated position and location he'd been occupying. Between Aedan and his foe: a single log on top of a stump.
Suddenly, Aedan moved and brought it down; hitting it off center and sending the largely intact log rolling, axe embedded in the log. A frown became a sigh as a slow clap punctuated the results. Bartuc adding commentary as his clap progressed. "I admire the elbow grease. I think we'd all admire something more geared towards your capacity. Clean the vegetables, maybe?"
Ebrik and Emily approached, the dwarf shaking his head. "You need to lift with your legs and keep looking where you're swinging, lad."
"...noted." Aedan offered, heading off to assist the children with harvesting and cleaning while Emily went inside.
Bartuc regarded Ebrik with a nod, which the dwarf returned, the half-orc continuing. "Lady Lauriel. You've gotten even shorter, and much less pretty."
Ebrik chuckled. "Save it, ya bastard."
An amused snort. "Where is she?"
"Cleaning up a mess she left of some thugs. She might be easy on all your eyes, but she's no fair grassland flower, that one."
Further away now, Aedan began working on cleaning the vegetables in a large bucket...
...Ignoring a shadow cast over him.
A man of not quite six feet in height. Ordinary, and unremarkable build, neat dark hair, and a swarthy complexion. Dark clothing very fine for traveling clothes without being ostentatious. Red eyes that glowed faintly the only tell.
A wry frown graced the figure's face, as one hand found his hip. The other scratching his hair as he tilted his head. "Well, on the one hand, it's a contribution. A quiet dignity... Or is it? Looks awfully... tedious."
Aedan kept his attention on the carrots.
The figure nodded. "Fine fine, be that way." And leaned against the house. Arms folded. "You know, I'm glad we have a quiet moment and you're in a listening mood. Because I think we need to talk. I just... I just need to feel heard. I don't want you to jump to any solutions, I'd feel like you're brushing me off."
Aedan sighed... and the figure's sly gaze took note as he prepared to continue.
"...maybe we can figure this out together before we end up in a bad place..."
Aedan didn't look away. "Is that a threat?"
"See, this is a part of the problem. I offer acts of service, gifts, words of affirmation... but you only notice when I try to articulate a problem. Wow." The future shook his head. "That’s hurtful."
"What do you want?"
"Was that so hard? Time is ticking on our mutual enemy's designs coming to fruition. You're all moving at a leisurely pace. Perhaps a little more urgency could be managed such that I might measure it? I only want you to achieve your goals in a timely manner. Not that you listen."
"...I'm sorry I wasn't listening. Can you start over?" Aedan yawned.
A soft chuckle. "Ever a kick in the pants, sport."
"We're moving. We get there when we get there. We can't ignore everything along the way. I'm also not exactly in charge."
"...that's actually a good point."
Aedan froze.
"No one would ever let you lead anything."
Aedan scoffed. "Words of affirmation. Always at the ready. You're sincerity is making me feel seen."
The figure held up a hand. "I'm upset by it. They should respect you..."
"I'm not doing this with you."
A laugh. A low, throaty, diabolical chuckle. "You already are, warlock. I'm not even the mistake you made. Or have you forgotten where you reached out first in your quest for knowledge and relevance... what's held back by my grace alone? What you invited in?"
And suddenly a red, scaly tail had wrapped around his wrist as he reached for a carrot. And everything around began to fade. "Do you remember the abyss you gazed into, which gazed back and reached in tandem? The night terrors... the whispers... the presence in every shadow and puddle... the *lapses*..." suddenly the ground was soaked and briny ash and bone... unsteady and giving under his weight, promising a watery abyss below. A ring of fire around them hold back a considerable shape with deviant yellow predatory eyes. Tendrils probing the flames with a mix of scientific curiosity and hunger. His patron stood nearby, a dark red-eyed shilloutte from which the tail emerged.
Muffled screams as if under water resounding as Aedan swallowed, began to sweat, and remained still.
"...because I can let them back in, piece by piece, whenever I desire."
"So, are you ready to use your listening ears?" The bones shifted as grasping, pruned, drenched and pale arms began clawing through and reaching desperately amid louder drowned screams.
"Yes!" A dry, panicked yell that lacked volume.
Suddenly they were pulled back down. And Aedan pulled up to his feet to face the dark red eyed shadow, now nine feet tall and leaning forward, rows of fangs visible in an otherwise indiscernable mouth. "I knew you'd see the error of your ways. Now, kiss my feet. And *thank me*, for my patience."
Aedan kneeled. And shakingly, begrudgingly did so. A warm scaly hide against his lips he couldn't see. "...thank you for your patience."
Suddenly the unassuming swarthy man was before him again. The sun shining down on them. Helped to his feet, Aedan recived a gracious dust off and straightening of his shirt. "There we are. Chin up, bucko. I believe in you... someone has too." Then a smile, and he was gone.
"...Mr. Aedan?"
Aedan slowly turned his gaze, sweating profusely. The same boy Bartuc had spoken to. "...yeah..?"
"...who were you talking to? And why were you kissing the dirt?"
"Myself. Sometimes I need expert advise. And I was testing the soil."
"...that's wierd."
"Yeah. Tell me about it."
The child walked off. Slowly. Aedan leaned against the house. And equally slowly slid down to a seated position. Eyes half lidded.
"Fuck me."
Lauriel's voice was vaguely bemused. "I'm going to assume you were talking to yourself."
He jumped, another cold sweat of mortification washing over as his palm found his face. "Yeah. Yeah, I do that. A lot."
"So I've noticed." She remarked, placing more vegetables down. "...are you well?". Gently, tone even, focused on the task and not looking at him.
She had learned men tended to prefer side by side discussion unless talking about themselves to share.
He hesitated. He thought.
'I want to die. But death feels less safe, and the beginning of an eternity with two bad options.' "I'm fine. Sorry to be a spectacle."
"...very well. Looks like you cleaned most of them. Are you able to continue?"
"...yeah."
"Are you sure? You don't seem acclimated to labor. The effort is thoughtful, but knowing your limits is important."
He looked down into the bucket. Just barely preventing his head from outright hanging. "...I'm fine."
"If you say so." And she turned on her heel, giving him a nod.
Later, the evening had settled. Mildred and the older children treating them to a fine dinner of chicken, stew, and fresh produce cleaned by Aedan.
Lauriel had wanted to help cook... but didn't know how, instead helping the younger children set the table while Bartuc, Ebrik, and Aedan maintained watchfulness outside and bantered. Probably about everything from their quest in service to their peoples, weapons, food, and quite possibly... her finer points. A little vain of her? Perhaps. But... come on.
What mattered was dinner, all seated and eating gratefully. Mildred leading grace for the celestial hebdomad of which Bartuc's own archangel patron Shamshel- the lonely conqueror of the gods- was among.
Conversation had been pleasant and wholesome. The food far from the lavish variety she was accustomed to, but delicious and filling all the same.
As the evening progressed and their hostess put the children to bed, Mildred had been marveling at a set of wooden sheep, wolves, and a shepherd that Ebrik had whittled by hand for the children before they all retired. Save Aedan who took up a first watch.
But four hours of sleep was more than sufficient for an elf, and she woke. For a comfortable late summer night she might have preferred an outfit of elvish design: a small and breathable shirt without sleeves leaving her stomach bare. Shorts.
Of course, outside elvish lands this sent many messages and none the ones she wanted: that she preferred to be comfortable and feel the evening breeze.
Thus she opted for similar attire as earlier when she was out and about. Stepping into the moonlight to see a sky full of stars with quiet appreciation.
On a hunch, she took a step and vanished. Reappearing on the roof with one hand on the chimney.
Aedan laid against the roof, arms behind his head, gaze distant and directed at the stars.
At his non reaction, she tilted her head. Then cleared her throat, prompting him to startle, shift, and begin sliding down before she caught his arm with her right. Her left still on the chimney. "...this isn't terribly encouraging. What if I had been a bugbear?"
"...yeah, well... you're an elf. Light. What are you, seventy pounds after a swim?"
She raised a brow. "When confronted on a security lapse, you move to my weight within a stereotype of my people... and conjuring the image of a swim, no less. Not very encouraging at all, Aedan." She shook her head as she pulled him back up. The subtlest smirk present.
He scratched the back of his neck. Sitting up while she leaned back against the chimney. "I got it under control up here."
She glances around. "That so?"
"Locked down."
"Mm-hm..."
"So you have a plan then, for those three spearmen there... the two brutes there. The archers forming there. The cutthroat skulking over the fence by the pigs... the one of concerningly arcane looking bearing behind the archers, and the hobgoblin warrior next to him?"
Aedan blinked. "...what?"
Lauriel's eyes scanned as she planned. "You heard me."
"Um... I uh... had a plan. To look vulnerable. Because I was waiting for them to play their hand. See their plan. Then we could plan around that plan. Which was my plan all along."
Her eye twitched. "...do something about the archers. I'll wake the others." And with a step she vanished.
He stood, and held out his hand. Small candle flames gathering at at each digit before centering on his palm. The archers reacted, as did the mage, and six arrows plus six magic missiles sailed forth from beyond the distant fence... the arrows blocked by a shadowy veil that appeared around him like bat wings shielding him in an embrace, a rippling shield of energy conjured in his other hand blocking the missiles. 'By my grace...'
Aedan frowned, and then hurled the fireball like a stone.
By the time Lauriel had appeared to wake up Bartuc and Ebrik- a wonder any could sleep through both their snoring- a distant explosion, screams, and orders being shouted stirred the household into a panic. "We're under attack. Mercenaries by the looks of them, combined arms with one caster. Aedan's counter casting."
Bartuc rose and dumped his water over himself as he lifted his axe with one hand, remaining shirtless. Feet and clawed hands moving with purpose. "Ebrik, get them in the cellar and hold the house. Cast from here."
"Aye." The dwarf donned his helm as he reached for his rifle.
Lauriel walked briskly with Bartuc. "You charge, I address the flanks?"
"Agreed."
Power flowed to Aedan as life left his charred and broken foes and invigorated him, in service to and symbolic of the infernal power he wielded. The strong dole as they see fit, and the weak suffer as befits them. Though now he and the rival mage were locked in a back and forth. Aedan blocking and dispelling a barrage of attempts. It was clear the mage wasn't his arcane equal, but all the same... those who truly practiced and studied had a greater bandwidth than was bequethed to him.
Eventually exhausted of high magics. Aedan slid from the roof and landed before the porch. Quickly emitting a green blast of energy which sent an approaching spearman flying before a large and armored foe brought down a hammer, Aedan nearly stumbling back to dodge.
But as the brute went to lift the hammer, a half-orc foot had suddenly stepped on it, holding it to the ground as the flat of a greataxe sent the man unconscious to the ground.
Bartuc grabbed Aedan by the scruff and pulled him back. "Take cover."
The two remaining spearmen approached with the last brute, aiming to attack Bartuc from three sides. "THEY HAVE AN ORC, CUT IT DOWN!" Bartuc braced for melee.
Another replied. "Give it everything you've got, his *skin is twice as thick*!"
Morons. He wished that was a thing.
A rifle fired, and the brute fell.
A green Eldritch blast and another spearman was sent flying.
The last stumbled and faltered, Bartuc pulling the spear down under the hook up his axe blade and brining a knee to the head of the last spearman. "Fuckhead."
Off near where the animals were, a black-clad figure in studded leather readied a shortsword and hand crossbow as he pressed his back against the house near a window. But a bright dancing light from his left briefly blinded him as he looked through squinting eyes for its source...
...before Lauriel appeared behind silently, precisely sliding her blade through his heart and between his ribs, cleaning it as she drew it back and turned to where the remaining foes were.
Bartuc strode forth towards the mage who readied a coalescing orb of acid. The hobgoblin watching stoically.
With a soft prayer under his breath, he spoke in celestial to invoke the Lonely Conqueror,
"You who stayed faithful when the devil strayed, you who took the mantle abandoned by the champion of your heavenly host turned King of Hell, bless me in battle. Be my protection against the wickedness and snares of evils mortal and immortal. Deliver me before the evil that threatens beauty and life, and the order on which they depend. That I may preserve the meek and humble, the innocent and just, and shepherd them from evil, amen."
The chromatic orb shot forth, along with a strong wind from the west that veered it enough to merely graze the tip of Bartuc's ear. A sudden pistol draw from the hobgoblin taken by Bartuc's axe as he shifted his group.
More fortuitous than Aedan dared hope for, exhausted of counterspells.
An arrow bounced from the mage's spectral mage armor, visible in that instant alone, earning a side glance as Lauriel appeared behind to strike with her blade. The hobgoblin drew one scimitar and swung in a fluid motion, forcing her to parry instead. She let herself be swayed by his strength and nimbly found her feet a few feet away as the mage readied magic missiles of red light.
With the hobgoblin's left hand a small axe was drawn and thrown, Lauriel batting it aside with her blade before side stepping a second with barely traceable speed. The warrior now approaching her with two blades drawn.
Seven red missiles shrieked forth. Bartuc stopping as they all converged- "...fuck."- pelting him with concussion force and bringing him to a knee, bracing against his axe as he wiped blood from his mouth. Starry aqua energy leaving his left hand like pouring water to heal his wounds.
Bartuc stood, Ebrik emerging from the house and aiming on one knee as Aedan made a comment while passing to take his post. "Seems like every jerk's a mage these days..."
Ebrik cracked a smirk.
The mage was assessing.
A dwarf aiming a rifle...
A half-orc... barbarian, he assumed... approaching...
At least the warrior was on the elf...
...but when he glanced, he watched two scimitars strike into a scissoring motion, only for her to misty step up, stand on the flats of the warrior's two blades and bring hers through his eye. That was 600 gold well spent....
Nervously, he reached for a bound scroll on his belt...
"Come forth, fiend..." the mage's knife drew and was bloodied on his hand. Scroll opened and painted. "...Gilgamel."
The bloodstain on the scroll suddenly spread and deepened until drenched. A coalescing blackness gathering in its center as the mage dropped it. *"Who summons me? Who is so bold? Whom might I bend fame and fortune toward, defend from harm, and deliver fair elven maiden as charmed plaything for?"*
Hardly versed in summons, or dealings, more stoked with every offer, the mage responded readily "Daren."
And a stifled gasp was all that he managed as his eyes rolled back and blood sprayed from every orifice. The last thing Daren heard: Gilgamel's parting, over the shoulder words to his Abyssal peers:
*"Ha! I can't believe that worked, guys look at this fuckin idiot... and come watch me strip this paladin's flesh from his quivering bone."*
Daren's body began to contort, twist, and grow, Ebrik quickly firing and reloading. Aedan launching two distant Eldritch blasts. Bartuc and Lauriel both flanking and striking... only for their weapons to get caught as if in muddy clay. Both releasing their weapons and jumping back. Lauriel grabbing one of the hobgoblin's scimitars from the ground and tossing it to Bartuc who caught it, the blade just barely reaching him. She took the other.
Soon, the glabrazu towered over them at twelve feet.
Lauriel drew a knife a her free hand. "Well gentlemen, anything!?"
The guys responded with paladin, Cleric, and warlock expertise in unison: "Demon."
Lauriel's eye twitched. She didn't bother suppressing a sigh. "Men..." a great pincher, larger than her, embedded where she had been as she rolled away. Before amending "Boys."
The demon pulled her blade from its hide with a hiss, examining its engravings as black ichor splooshed from the wound. "Hm. A knife ear of note... more than a pretty face and nice ass, are you? Tell me more. Be forthcoming and I may spare you the worst of my predations." A clawed foot stepped forth. Other pincher pulling Bartuc's greataxe from its back and hurling it at Ebrik. "You'd do well to accept my generosity... the last maiden I ensnared didn't remain sane long in my tender mercies..." it licked its fanged maw.
Lauriel quietly exhaled in disgust as Bartuc prayed while running his hand along the flat of the scimitar. Ebrik rolling away from the axe. "Buggar!"
"What will it be, my pet?"
Lauriel scoffed, offering a condescending smirk, attempting to emulate her teenage years of petty social power politics. "As if. You're gross. And your hands, under the pinchers... *tiny*." Gilgamel's posture straightened. His own eye twitching. "You know what they say comes with small hands..."
Bartuc lept forth with as much energy as he was given poured into a single golden smite, propelled with orcish tenacity, bringing the scimitar down on Gilgamel's back in an explosion of golden heavenly stardust. The radiant energy burning demonic hide and evaporated black ichor as Bartuc fell to his feet. Gilgamel arching his back with a feral howl. Having landed, a quick second strike at the back of the knee brought Gilgamel to a crouch before a mighty pincher arm struck out and sent the paladin flying. Gilgamel's eyes briefly glowing and... tiny... hands gesturing; creating a cloud of darkness around him.
Lauriel's knife flew within, a squishy impact sound following. "YOU FILTHY SLAG!"
Gilgamel silently flew up from the cloud, then eyed the house: children, bite size. Perfect. Like fresh sardines.
Ebrik reached Bartuc, aqua light imparting a heal wounds as a prayer to Moradin enveloped Lauriel in a shimmering aura. "Let no profane intrude this secret space..."
Lauriel drew her shortbow from the magic bag, firing two shots. One sticking between a few plates of hide, another bouncing.
Gilgamel gripped Lauriel's blade... the clamped down on it, and bent it until it snapped. Tossing the pieces at her feet.
Now her eyes were wide. Mouth ever so slightly open.
Gilgamel flew to the house, uttering a baleful and dread word the knocked into Ebrik with force, stunning him.
Landing, might claws tore through a wall. Searching for the occupants who had long fled to the cellar. Aedan froze in his standing position. Cheese wedge partway to his mouth. A slow blink as he made eye contact. Gilgamel's fanged maw erupting into a grin.
...
Gilgamel prodded like a cat toying with a mouse; letting a low hiss escape as he tilted his head.
Aedan remained still.
...
Then bit and chewed.
Gilgamel's eyes narrowed.
Aedan glanced between the cheese and the demon. Then presented it. As persuasively as possible. Snapping his fingers for a little thaumaturgy boost to his daft charm.
"...are you some kind of a fuckin asshole?"
Aedan thought quickly. Then threw his arm forward. The cheese landing on a shoulder spike.
Gilgamel glanced from it to Aedan. "...I'm going to skin you alive." Snap snap.
One Eldritch Blast in the chest did slight damage before a claw snatched Aedan and pulled him up. A black book on Aedan's belt catching his attention. "No spellbook... a grimoire? Warlock then..." and as Gilgamel reached, a firebolt directly impacted the demon's face and to its shock, burned so hot that Gilgamel's nature offered no mitigation.
Aedan grimaced then yelled as Gilgamel squeezed, using his two tiny hands to open the grimoire. "Hellfire... then who-"
And a dark sketch stared back. A poised and scaled fiend shrouded in flame and dark. A wicked hammer on its side with wings like a cloak.
"Despoiler..."
And the book fell.
A dwarvish warhammer struck his left leg, and a greataxe with holy fire his right. Fallen again, and having dropepd Aedan. Ebrik and Bartuc each raised their weapons- a golden smite gathering in the axe, and holy fire in the hammer, before both came down and dark, thick liquid coated the parlor.
The same boy who started Bartuc's day peered round the corner. "That was SO COOL!"
Ebrik tousled his hair as he approached Aedan and kneeled Bartuc looking around with an exhale. "Can you stand, lad?"
"Let me check... no."
Ebrik examined, then clicked his tongue. "Ever have a dislocated shoulder set before, lad?"
"No-" SNAP. CRACK. "SONOFABITCH!"
"Now ya have."
Lauriel slowly approached. Blade pieces clutched against her chest. Expression distant while scanning the room. "Is everyone alright?"
Ebrik nodded. "We'll live. Aedan's gonna be sore... what about you, lass?"
Bartuc turned. Placing a clawed hand on her shoulder. "...irreplaceable?" He eyed the sword.
Aedan sat up with a groan. Casting a concerned look.
"...it was a gift from my father to commerate my station. He forged it himself... learned to forge specifically for it between managing matters of state."
Aedan frowned. He couldn't imagine getting something like that... well... anything from his father besides a fist to bite down on. He wanted to say something thoughtful. Eloquent. "I... I'm so sorry, Lauriel." A step up from the 'wow. That sucks.' That almost escaped.
Ebrik spoke. "...I know there's plenty back home for both of us who would take offense, but if you imagine your father the Archon isn't one, I would ask Moradin aid me in mending the blade when I'm rested enough. I believe he would extend grace. If you're not too proud."
She wiped a subtle wetness from her eyes. And nodded as she recapture her composure. "...thank you, Ebrik. Guys."
Bartuc smiled softly. "A big change for dwarves and elves."
Ebrik had already begun surveying the parlor damage as more children wandered up. Already drawing plans. "Change is inevitable. It requires the work of the faithful and principled to ensure it's for the better, and doesn't abandon what ought to be preserved."
"Hm." Aedan nodded. "I like that one."
Mildred stepped up. Tired, but still young in her late twenties. Hands over her mouth, red hair down. Eyes wide. "Are you all alright..? The... the house..."
Ebrik spoke. "You needn't fear, milady. We'll fix it."
Bartuc nodded, then whispered to Lauriel. "We ought to find out where those men came from. How they came by that scroll."
"Agreed."
Emily tugged Mildred's gown. "I bet some of the neighbors would help!"
Aedan smiled softly, settling against the wall.
Lauriel gently lifted the dark grimoire from the floor. Dusting it off. Even cleaned it had a strange texture like ash. A single skull shaped ruby centered in a red pentagram, a skeletal hand gripping it, the arm forming the shaft of a staff... the symbol of Asmodeus. Or "Old Hoof and Horn" to those who still fondly regarded Heaven's once foremost archangel, now Lord of the Ninth, King of Hell, God of Tyranny and Trickery.
She approached Aedan, holding it out. "...You have use for it, I presume?"
He nodded. "Thanks."
And they all went to get what sleep they could.
Disclaimer: While heavily d&d based, I fly fast and loose with cannon and mechanical rules. Contains mature subject matter without explicit content apart from brief violence. Strong language. Word count roughly between 6k & 6.5k.
Bartuc sat outside the modest home of their hostess, sharpening the mighty axe he always carried- taller than any of his companions who were off doing Shamshel knows what- he himself still taller than them in a seated position. Ornate plate clean and off to the side in the house, the morning sun settled comfortably on his tunic, pants, and grey flesh as coffee settled in his stomach. Blue eyes on his work as one clawed hand held the rock, the other his axe. Hair arranged in dreadlocks, facial hair short.
One of the children approached with awe and unearned confidence. Seven, maybe eight years old. No doubt finding a half-orc as exotic as his weapon. "Do you kill people with that?" Asked in the same tenor as his favorite food.
He didn't look away from his craft. "Ya know, that's a rude question to ask someone." But he couldn't completely banish a smirk.
"...sorry sir."
"Are you really sorry?"
The child blinked. "...no. Not really."
"Then don't apologize. Nobody likes a people pleaser. Certainly not the ladies."
The child made a vexed face, and Bartuc suppressed a snort of amusement.
"...yes. I kill people with it." Said flatly as the rock slid.
"Why?"
"Because the people and things I kill hurt other people. And they don't pretend to be sorry about it. Unless they want you to let them go... so they can keep hurting people."
"...why do they hurt people? And not... care?"
Bartuc shrugged. "I don't care. That's for the clerics, and my brothers from other chapters, to fuss over. My oath demands they be stopped. So that's what I do."
"Can I become an adventurer?"
"Anyone can. But you'll need a bit more muscle on those arms... like from those chores you're supposed to be helping your mother with." A frown and shifting posture manifested with a groan. "I've never met a respectable adventuring party who would take on a member that wouldn't help their own mother. Certainly not me."
With that the child was off, and a young man of nearly twenty-five approached. Another human, not imposing in height. Thin. A tunic and pants under a midnight blue traveling coat. Brown hair short and mildly unkempt- tinged in early silver-, eyes brown and face fair if... tired. "Morning." The young man greeted with a yawn.
"Morning. Where's Ebrik?"
The young man leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "Shopping."
"...and you are..?"
He shrugged. "I dunno. My regularly observed whatever it is I do here."
Bartuc shook his head with a quiet chuckle.
"Where's the princess?" The young man inquired.
"I'm not her babysitter. And she hardly needs one, Aedan."
"...fair."
"Besides, I assumed you knew where she went... I know you like to watch her leave." An orcish fang poked from his grin.
A faint red crossed Aedan's face as he scratched the back of his neck. "...like you have a vow of chastity."
"Maybe not. But I'm subtle."
"...I don't leer."
"I didn't say you did. Awfully defensive though..."
Aedan sighed.
"...anything from your sponsor?"
Aedan's wry frustration shifted to a frown. "No. Like the last three times you asked. He's not exactly chatty... kind of a long distance thing. And I prefer the silence. In case it needs to be said."
"...alright."
Then quietly. "If that changes I'll tell you."
"Thank you." A brief silence followed. "...they might not be equally costly, but everyone makes mistakes, Aedan."
"Stop, I'm gonna blush again..." with the least amount of energy Aedan had ever put in any sarcasm. "I'm gonna go see if Mildred needs more hands. Even a mage hand. Least we can do for the roof and food."
"Ah, yes. More humble aspirations than elvish royalty- single mothers. Don't be too aggressive with that mage hand."
"F-fuck off..!"
Meanwhile...
Lauriel held a soft smile as she let Mildred's oldest daughter, Emily, lead her by the hand. Emily was full of energy, wearing faded but warm colors on her simple dress. Just recently turned ten, and simultaneously carrying herself with the dignity of a deputy mom and effortless wonder of a young girl in a relatively safe and familiar community. Lauriel for her part wasn't going to wander through town in her custom half-plate. Instead, her dark green cloak sat snuggly over the dark leather of her shirt and pants, footsteps silent in her fine boots. Blacks and golds with subtle crimson accents decorating her attire. Everything from her ears to her unearthly fair and flawless complexion betrayed her as cut from a different cloth. Her strawberry blonde hair tied into an elegant bun, a few strands framing her face. Sea-green eyes taking in the humble town with novel curiosity, and if nothing else appreciation for their hospitality despite their poorly concealed exotic curiosity. An ornate and silvered scimitar with a more subtle curve, both edges sharp, sheathed at her side the only hint of danger.
But as far as Emily was concerned, Lauriel was a girl *and* an adventurer and the first elf she had ever seen and could make magic lights! Princess hadn't entered the discourse. Nor should it.
There was plenty of distraction besides.
Lauriel tried to take everything in and ignore the smell of such... humble... setting.
The... odor... but, she had to keep in mind they didn't have the aqueducts and bathhouses that were common in her distance isles, nor the architectural innovation and emulation of the capital, here in these rural reaches.
But they were far from being without their charms. "Do you shop for your family?"
Emily nodded proudly. "Yep! I know the best stalls and stores." She leaned in, quieter. "...are the boys making you do all the shopping?"
She let out a short, but full laugh. Smile steady. "No, but sometimes if you want something right; you do it yourself. I'm sure you understand."
Emily thought. Then kept thinking. Then dared. "...Ms. Lauriel... can I ask you something a little rude?"
She suppressed a chucked, letting a smirk form. "Is it how old I am?"
Emily blushed. "Yeah..."
"Two-hundred and nineteen. My people think of me as twenty-two, so to speak."
Emily let out an impressed sound as her mind reeled. Big numbers with no bearing on her life or education through a dynamic combination of homeschooling and the local chapel.
"Wow... what does elvish sound like?"
"Kyratias wi taso ro auxakilio tarmasha."
Emily blinked, like poetry and song washed over her. "That sounds so pretty!"
"It means 'thank you very much for your help today.'"
"Is it true that it's called 'moon-speak'?"
Lauriel could not intercept a subtle eye twitch, hardly directed at Emily, but paired it with a dry laugh. "No, it is not... our language is called Eldarthiel."
Proceeding along, they entered the market square; humble but sufficient and the product of honest labor. Lauriel had already drawn much attention, standing out with her attire, fey-like visage, and attractiveness. The former two of primary note, as she would wish. And once coins began emerging from the small pouch at her sash, in response to simple whispered code words, the attention amplified on track with Emily's ceaseless wonder.
Lauriel navigated it with pleasant charm and confidence as she acquired a mixture of foods and provisions to cover the mundane nuances of adventure, and semblance of a preservable balanced diet rather than whatever bachelor hodgepodge her allies would opt for with the consideration of a raiding party.
Her own shopping eventually concluded, one basket of goods found itself handed to Emily who blinked in surprise. Lauriel smiled and tucked a strand of hair out of Emily's face and behind her ear. "For the imposition. Let your mother know I'd be greatly saddened if she attempted to refuse."
"Thank you!"
"You're quite welcome." She replied warmly... as her ear twitched and her keen eyes calmly scanned the surroundings.
Five men. Human. Leather armor under coats, one in ring-mail. Armed. Having been following them with amateur subtlety. Signaling to each other. Three keeping to the edges of the street. Two attempting to be a part of the crowd.
"Let's head back."
Could be mercenaries, though unless especially amateur she'd expect better equipment. Petty bandits more likely... robbers, potentially ransomers presuming any elf to be a person of import, rapists. None were mutually exclusive nor could she discount danger to Emily given the depravity and barbarism humans were capable of, present company excluded.
Much as she expected, once the liminal space between town proper and the humble house was reached, three of them had looped ahead to bar their path. One with a hand on the hilt of a blade. Another, in ringmail, with both hands on a greatclub resting on the ground. A third with a crossbow. Behind her and Emily approached a spearman and a bowman.
Emily stopped and blinked, her mouth opening and closing, keeping composure only as Lauriel's left hand found her shoulder and offered a soft squeeze. "Do excuse us, boys."
The apparent leader smirked. "Sorry, milady. I'm afraid as newcomers to the community, we's gonna need to collect a bit of a donation towards protection money on behalf of the local authorities. Dangerous times, all that. And maybe if you behave yourself and cooperate with a little... interrogation, we let the little girl go home with her basket and all her teeth."
Lauriel's expression evened. "How gracious of you. I've a counter proposal for you: make way for your betters, or our goodbyes will be swifter than our introductions, and you lowly cretins afforded only as much mercy as is convenient... and only for the benefit of our audience."
The leader spat. "So much for goodwill. Get em lads, keep the elf alive. See if she's so high and mighty with her face in the dirt-" the crossbowman beside him fell, a knife in his eye. The archer on the other side of the formation following in kind.
Lauriel lifted her foot for a single step, then vanished and reappeared some thirty feet ahead, now behind their bruiser, her drawn blade appearing impaled through his heart from behind. The great club and man fell with unceremonious thuds as she drew it from the body and with both hands on the hilt, directed the tip to the leader's throat.
She glanced at the spearman who stopped dead in his tracks.
He raised his arms. She allowed an imperious smirk. "It learns." Then in a fluid motion, tripped his leg put from under him and brought the pummel of her blade down on his head just as it collided in the ground, knocking him unconscious.
She sheathed the blade as she stood, noting the spearman running for it, and reached for her bag with a different codeword, drawing forth a shortbow and arrow.
The shot pierced his leg and sent him falling with a string of profanities.
The last conscious one sat up with a pained groan and glance at the arrow in his leg, pulling an ominous green vial from his pack. But suddenly found himself unconscious as well from a thick boot to the head. The dwarf, clad in fine and beautiful half-plate, long black beard deliberately braided. Grey eyes calm, if firm. Complexion pale bordering on white as was standard for mountain dwarves. An arquebus rifle and ornate warhammer on his back. "Making friends wherever you go, eh elf?"
She rolled her eyes ss she approached Emily, who hadn't moved, offering her a canteen and urging her to drink while returning a hand to her shoulder. "Master Ebrik. I hope your morning has been productive."
"Aye. It was. Healed a few flus, delivered a baby. Did... what I could for some of their craftsmen given means available. No doubt you're finding the world outside your isles quite... disorderly, relative to Dominion sentiment and enforcement." He bound the incapacitated bandit, then approached.
Lauriel quietly exhaled. "It has its charms all the same."
"You're the most humble elf I've ever met." He remarked with a chuckle, continuing his approach.
"I seem to recall I'm the only elf you've ever met."
"Exactly."
"Well, in the spirit of reciprocity, you're the tallest dwarf I've ever met."
Ebrik stopped next to Emily, just a bit taller than her. And huffed. Emily giggled.
Ebrik considered his options. Then revealed chocolate, far more exciting to Emily than water. A look of triumph on his face.
Lauriel permitted a short laugh as he walked Emily back, and she sought out what passed for law enforcement in these parts.
Back at the house, Aedan eyed his target with controlled breathing, and a narrowed glance of focused concentration. Refusing to give an inch or show a hint of doubt. With a regulating exhale, he tightened his grip on the simple axe...
Bartuc glanced back and forth from the same seated position and location he'd been occupying. Between Aedan and his foe: a single log on top of a stump.
Suddenly, Aedan moved and brought it down; hitting it off center and sending the largely intact log rolling, axe embedded in the log. A frown became a sigh as a slow clap punctuated the results. Bartuc adding commentary as his clap progressed. "I admire the elbow grease. I think we'd all admire something more geared towards your capacity. Clean the vegetables, maybe?"
Ebrik and Emily approached, the dwarf shaking his head. "You need to lift with your legs and keep looking where you're swinging, lad."
"...noted." Aedan offered, heading off to assist the children with harvesting and cleaning while Emily went inside.
Bartuc regarded Ebrik with a nod, which the dwarf returned, the half-orc continuing. "Lady Lauriel. You've gotten even shorter, and much less pretty."
Ebrik chuckled. "Save it, ya bastard."
An amused snort. "Where is she?"
"Cleaning up a mess she left of some thugs. She might be easy on all your eyes, but she's no fair grassland flower, that one."
Further away now, Aedan began working on cleaning the vegetables in a large bucket...
...Ignoring a shadow cast over him.
A man of not quite six feet in height. Ordinary, and unremarkable build, neat dark hair, and a swarthy complexion. Dark clothing very fine for traveling clothes without being ostentatious. Red eyes that glowed faintly the only tell.
A wry frown graced the figure's face, as one hand found his hip. The other scratching his hair as he tilted his head. "Well, on the one hand, it's a contribution. A quiet dignity... Or is it? Looks awfully... tedious."
Aedan kept his attention on the carrots.
The figure nodded. "Fine fine, be that way." And leaned against the house. Arms folded. "You know, I'm glad we have a quiet moment and you're in a listening mood. Because I think we need to talk. I just... I just need to feel heard. I don't want you to jump to any solutions, I'd feel like you're brushing me off."
Aedan sighed... and the figure's sly gaze took note as he prepared to continue.
"...maybe we can figure this out together before we end up in a bad place..."
Aedan didn't look away. "Is that a threat?"
"See, this is a part of the problem. I offer acts of service, gifts, words of affirmation... but you only notice when I try to articulate a problem. Wow." The future shook his head. "That’s hurtful."
"What do you want?"
"Was that so hard? Time is ticking on our mutual enemy's designs coming to fruition. You're all moving at a leisurely pace. Perhaps a little more urgency could be managed such that I might measure it? I only want you to achieve your goals in a timely manner. Not that you listen."
"...I'm sorry I wasn't listening. Can you start over?" Aedan yawned.
A soft chuckle. "Ever a kick in the pants, sport."
"We're moving. We get there when we get there. We can't ignore everything along the way. I'm also not exactly in charge."
"...that's actually a good point."
Aedan froze.
"No one would ever let you lead anything."
Aedan scoffed. "Words of affirmation. Always at the ready. You're sincerity is making me feel seen."
The figure held up a hand. "I'm upset by it. They should respect you..."
"I'm not doing this with you."
A laugh. A low, throaty, diabolical chuckle. "You already are, warlock. I'm not even the mistake you made. Or have you forgotten where you reached out first in your quest for knowledge and relevance... what's held back by my grace alone? What you invited in?"
And suddenly a red, scaly tail had wrapped around his wrist as he reached for a carrot. And everything around began to fade. "Do you remember the abyss you gazed into, which gazed back and reached in tandem? The night terrors... the whispers... the presence in every shadow and puddle... the *lapses*..." suddenly the ground was soaked and briny ash and bone... unsteady and giving under his weight, promising a watery abyss below. A ring of fire around them hold back a considerable shape with deviant yellow predatory eyes. Tendrils probing the flames with a mix of scientific curiosity and hunger. His patron stood nearby, a dark red-eyed shilloutte from which the tail emerged.
Muffled screams as if under water resounding as Aedan swallowed, began to sweat, and remained still.
"...because I can let them back in, piece by piece, whenever I desire."
"So, are you ready to use your listening ears?" The bones shifted as grasping, pruned, drenched and pale arms began clawing through and reaching desperately amid louder drowned screams.
"Yes!" A dry, panicked yell that lacked volume.
Suddenly they were pulled back down. And Aedan pulled up to his feet to face the dark red eyed shadow, now nine feet tall and leaning forward, rows of fangs visible in an otherwise indiscernable mouth. "I knew you'd see the error of your ways. Now, kiss my feet. And *thank me*, for my patience."
Aedan kneeled. And shakingly, begrudgingly did so. A warm scaly hide against his lips he couldn't see. "...thank you for your patience."
Suddenly the unassuming swarthy man was before him again. The sun shining down on them. Helped to his feet, Aedan recived a gracious dust off and straightening of his shirt. "There we are. Chin up, bucko. I believe in you... someone has too." Then a smile, and he was gone.
"...Mr. Aedan?"
Aedan slowly turned his gaze, sweating profusely. The same boy Bartuc had spoken to. "...yeah..?"
"...who were you talking to? And why were you kissing the dirt?"
"Myself. Sometimes I need expert advise. And I was testing the soil."
"...that's wierd."
"Yeah. Tell me about it."
The child walked off. Slowly. Aedan leaned against the house. And equally slowly slid down to a seated position. Eyes half lidded.
"Fuck me."
Lauriel's voice was vaguely bemused. "I'm going to assume you were talking to yourself."
He jumped, another cold sweat of mortification washing over as his palm found his face. "Yeah. Yeah, I do that. A lot."
"So I've noticed." She remarked, placing more vegetables down. "...are you well?". Gently, tone even, focused on the task and not looking at him.
She had learned men tended to prefer side by side discussion unless talking about themselves to share.
He hesitated. He thought.
'I want to die. But death feels less safe, and the beginning of an eternity with two bad options.' "I'm fine. Sorry to be a spectacle."
"...very well. Looks like you cleaned most of them. Are you able to continue?"
"...yeah."
"Are you sure? You don't seem acclimated to labor. The effort is thoughtful, but knowing your limits is important."
He looked down into the bucket. Just barely preventing his head from outright hanging. "...I'm fine."
"If you say so." And she turned on her heel, giving him a nod.
Later, the evening had settled. Mildred and the older children treating them to a fine dinner of chicken, stew, and fresh produce cleaned by Aedan.
Lauriel had wanted to help cook... but didn't know how, instead helping the younger children set the table while Bartuc, Ebrik, and Aedan maintained watchfulness outside and bantered. Probably about everything from their quest in service to their peoples, weapons, food, and quite possibly... her finer points. A little vain of her? Perhaps. But... come on.
What mattered was dinner, all seated and eating gratefully. Mildred leading grace for the celestial hebdomad of which Bartuc's own archangel patron Shamshel- the lonely conqueror of the gods- was among.
Conversation had been pleasant and wholesome. The food far from the lavish variety she was accustomed to, but delicious and filling all the same.
As the evening progressed and their hostess put the children to bed, Mildred had been marveling at a set of wooden sheep, wolves, and a shepherd that Ebrik had whittled by hand for the children before they all retired. Save Aedan who took up a first watch.
But four hours of sleep was more than sufficient for an elf, and she woke. For a comfortable late summer night she might have preferred an outfit of elvish design: a small and breathable shirt without sleeves leaving her stomach bare. Shorts.
Of course, outside elvish lands this sent many messages and none the ones she wanted: that she preferred to be comfortable and feel the evening breeze.
Thus she opted for similar attire as earlier when she was out and about. Stepping into the moonlight to see a sky full of stars with quiet appreciation.
On a hunch, she took a step and vanished. Reappearing on the roof with one hand on the chimney.
Aedan laid against the roof, arms behind his head, gaze distant and directed at the stars.
At his non reaction, she tilted her head. Then cleared her throat, prompting him to startle, shift, and begin sliding down before she caught his arm with her right. Her left still on the chimney. "...this isn't terribly encouraging. What if I had been a bugbear?"
"...yeah, well... you're an elf. Light. What are you, seventy pounds after a swim?"
She raised a brow. "When confronted on a security lapse, you move to my weight within a stereotype of my people... and conjuring the image of a swim, no less. Not very encouraging at all, Aedan." She shook her head as she pulled him back up. The subtlest smirk present.
He scratched the back of his neck. Sitting up while she leaned back against the chimney. "I got it under control up here."
She glances around. "That so?"
"Locked down."
"Mm-hm..."
"So you have a plan then, for those three spearmen there... the two brutes there. The archers forming there. The cutthroat skulking over the fence by the pigs... the one of concerningly arcane looking bearing behind the archers, and the hobgoblin warrior next to him?"
Aedan blinked. "...what?"
Lauriel's eyes scanned as she planned. "You heard me."
"Um... I uh... had a plan. To look vulnerable. Because I was waiting for them to play their hand. See their plan. Then we could plan around that plan. Which was my plan all along."
Her eye twitched. "...do something about the archers. I'll wake the others." And with a step she vanished.
He stood, and held out his hand. Small candle flames gathering at at each digit before centering on his palm. The archers reacted, as did the mage, and six arrows plus six magic missiles sailed forth from beyond the distant fence... the arrows blocked by a shadowy veil that appeared around him like bat wings shielding him in an embrace, a rippling shield of energy conjured in his other hand blocking the missiles. 'By my grace...'
Aedan frowned, and then hurled the fireball like a stone.
By the time Lauriel had appeared to wake up Bartuc and Ebrik- a wonder any could sleep through both their snoring- a distant explosion, screams, and orders being shouted stirred the household into a panic. "We're under attack. Mercenaries by the looks of them, combined arms with one caster. Aedan's counter casting."
Bartuc rose and dumped his water over himself as he lifted his axe with one hand, remaining shirtless. Feet and clawed hands moving with purpose. "Ebrik, get them in the cellar and hold the house. Cast from here."
"Aye." The dwarf donned his helm as he reached for his rifle.
Lauriel walked briskly with Bartuc. "You charge, I address the flanks?"
"Agreed."
Power flowed to Aedan as life left his charred and broken foes and invigorated him, in service to and symbolic of the infernal power he wielded. The strong dole as they see fit, and the weak suffer as befits them. Though now he and the rival mage were locked in a back and forth. Aedan blocking and dispelling a barrage of attempts. It was clear the mage wasn't his arcane equal, but all the same... those who truly practiced and studied had a greater bandwidth than was bequethed to him.
Eventually exhausted of high magics. Aedan slid from the roof and landed before the porch. Quickly emitting a green blast of energy which sent an approaching spearman flying before a large and armored foe brought down a hammer, Aedan nearly stumbling back to dodge.
But as the brute went to lift the hammer, a half-orc foot had suddenly stepped on it, holding it to the ground as the flat of a greataxe sent the man unconscious to the ground.
Bartuc grabbed Aedan by the scruff and pulled him back. "Take cover."
The two remaining spearmen approached with the last brute, aiming to attack Bartuc from three sides. "THEY HAVE AN ORC, CUT IT DOWN!" Bartuc braced for melee.
Another replied. "Give it everything you've got, his *skin is twice as thick*!"
Morons. He wished that was a thing.
A rifle fired, and the brute fell.
A green Eldritch blast and another spearman was sent flying.
The last stumbled and faltered, Bartuc pulling the spear down under the hook up his axe blade and brining a knee to the head of the last spearman. "Fuckhead."
Off near where the animals were, a black-clad figure in studded leather readied a shortsword and hand crossbow as he pressed his back against the house near a window. But a bright dancing light from his left briefly blinded him as he looked through squinting eyes for its source...
...before Lauriel appeared behind silently, precisely sliding her blade through his heart and between his ribs, cleaning it as she drew it back and turned to where the remaining foes were.
Bartuc strode forth towards the mage who readied a coalescing orb of acid. The hobgoblin watching stoically.
With a soft prayer under his breath, he spoke in celestial to invoke the Lonely Conqueror,
"You who stayed faithful when the devil strayed, you who took the mantle abandoned by the champion of your heavenly host turned King of Hell, bless me in battle. Be my protection against the wickedness and snares of evils mortal and immortal. Deliver me before the evil that threatens beauty and life, and the order on which they depend. That I may preserve the meek and humble, the innocent and just, and shepherd them from evil, amen."
The chromatic orb shot forth, along with a strong wind from the west that veered it enough to merely graze the tip of Bartuc's ear. A sudden pistol draw from the hobgoblin taken by Bartuc's axe as he shifted his group.
More fortuitous than Aedan dared hope for, exhausted of counterspells.
An arrow bounced from the mage's spectral mage armor, visible in that instant alone, earning a side glance as Lauriel appeared behind to strike with her blade. The hobgoblin drew one scimitar and swung in a fluid motion, forcing her to parry instead. She let herself be swayed by his strength and nimbly found her feet a few feet away as the mage readied magic missiles of red light.
With the hobgoblin's left hand a small axe was drawn and thrown, Lauriel batting it aside with her blade before side stepping a second with barely traceable speed. The warrior now approaching her with two blades drawn.
Seven red missiles shrieked forth. Bartuc stopping as they all converged- "...fuck."- pelting him with concussion force and bringing him to a knee, bracing against his axe as he wiped blood from his mouth. Starry aqua energy leaving his left hand like pouring water to heal his wounds.
Bartuc stood, Ebrik emerging from the house and aiming on one knee as Aedan made a comment while passing to take his post. "Seems like every jerk's a mage these days..."
Ebrik cracked a smirk.
The mage was assessing.
A dwarf aiming a rifle...
A half-orc... barbarian, he assumed... approaching...
At least the warrior was on the elf...
...but when he glanced, he watched two scimitars strike into a scissoring motion, only for her to misty step up, stand on the flats of the warrior's two blades and bring hers through his eye. That was 600 gold well spent....
Nervously, he reached for a bound scroll on his belt...
"Come forth, fiend..." the mage's knife drew and was bloodied on his hand. Scroll opened and painted. "...Gilgamel."
The bloodstain on the scroll suddenly spread and deepened until drenched. A coalescing blackness gathering in its center as the mage dropped it. *"Who summons me? Who is so bold? Whom might I bend fame and fortune toward, defend from harm, and deliver fair elven maiden as charmed plaything for?"*
Hardly versed in summons, or dealings, more stoked with every offer, the mage responded readily "Daren."
And a stifled gasp was all that he managed as his eyes rolled back and blood sprayed from every orifice. The last thing Daren heard: Gilgamel's parting, over the shoulder words to his Abyssal peers:
*"Ha! I can't believe that worked, guys look at this fuckin idiot... and come watch me strip this paladin's flesh from his quivering bone."*
Daren's body began to contort, twist, and grow, Ebrik quickly firing and reloading. Aedan launching two distant Eldritch blasts. Bartuc and Lauriel both flanking and striking... only for their weapons to get caught as if in muddy clay. Both releasing their weapons and jumping back. Lauriel grabbing one of the hobgoblin's scimitars from the ground and tossing it to Bartuc who caught it, the blade just barely reaching him. She took the other.
Soon, the glabrazu towered over them at twelve feet.
Lauriel drew a knife a her free hand. "Well gentlemen, anything!?"
The guys responded with paladin, Cleric, and warlock expertise in unison: "Demon."
Lauriel's eye twitched. She didn't bother suppressing a sigh. "Men..." a great pincher, larger than her, embedded where she had been as she rolled away. Before amending "Boys."
The demon pulled her blade from its hide with a hiss, examining its engravings as black ichor splooshed from the wound. "Hm. A knife ear of note... more than a pretty face and nice ass, are you? Tell me more. Be forthcoming and I may spare you the worst of my predations." A clawed foot stepped forth. Other pincher pulling Bartuc's greataxe from its back and hurling it at Ebrik. "You'd do well to accept my generosity... the last maiden I ensnared didn't remain sane long in my tender mercies..." it licked its fanged maw.
Lauriel quietly exhaled in disgust as Bartuc prayed while running his hand along the flat of the scimitar. Ebrik rolling away from the axe. "Buggar!"
"What will it be, my pet?"
Lauriel scoffed, offering a condescending smirk, attempting to emulate her teenage years of petty social power politics. "As if. You're gross. And your hands, under the pinchers... *tiny*." Gilgamel's posture straightened. His own eye twitching. "You know what they say comes with small hands..."
Bartuc lept forth with as much energy as he was given poured into a single golden smite, propelled with orcish tenacity, bringing the scimitar down on Gilgamel's back in an explosion of golden heavenly stardust. The radiant energy burning demonic hide and evaporated black ichor as Bartuc fell to his feet. Gilgamel arching his back with a feral howl. Having landed, a quick second strike at the back of the knee brought Gilgamel to a crouch before a mighty pincher arm struck out and sent the paladin flying. Gilgamel's eyes briefly glowing and... tiny... hands gesturing; creating a cloud of darkness around him.
Lauriel's knife flew within, a squishy impact sound following. "YOU FILTHY SLAG!"
Gilgamel silently flew up from the cloud, then eyed the house: children, bite size. Perfect. Like fresh sardines.
Ebrik reached Bartuc, aqua light imparting a heal wounds as a prayer to Moradin enveloped Lauriel in a shimmering aura. "Let no profane intrude this secret space..."
Lauriel drew her shortbow from the magic bag, firing two shots. One sticking between a few plates of hide, another bouncing.
Gilgamel gripped Lauriel's blade... the clamped down on it, and bent it until it snapped. Tossing the pieces at her feet.
Now her eyes were wide. Mouth ever so slightly open.
Gilgamel flew to the house, uttering a baleful and dread word the knocked into Ebrik with force, stunning him.
Landing, might claws tore through a wall. Searching for the occupants who had long fled to the cellar. Aedan froze in his standing position. Cheese wedge partway to his mouth. A slow blink as he made eye contact. Gilgamel's fanged maw erupting into a grin.
...
Gilgamel prodded like a cat toying with a mouse; letting a low hiss escape as he tilted his head.
Aedan remained still.
...
Then bit and chewed.
Gilgamel's eyes narrowed.
Aedan glanced between the cheese and the demon. Then presented it. As persuasively as possible. Snapping his fingers for a little thaumaturgy boost to his daft charm.
"...are you some kind of a fuckin asshole?"
Aedan thought quickly. Then threw his arm forward. The cheese landing on a shoulder spike.
Gilgamel glanced from it to Aedan. "...I'm going to skin you alive." Snap snap.
One Eldritch Blast in the chest did slight damage before a claw snatched Aedan and pulled him up. A black book on Aedan's belt catching his attention. "No spellbook... a grimoire? Warlock then..." and as Gilgamel reached, a firebolt directly impacted the demon's face and to its shock, burned so hot that Gilgamel's nature offered no mitigation.
Aedan grimaced then yelled as Gilgamel squeezed, using his two tiny hands to open the grimoire. "Hellfire... then who-"
And a dark sketch stared back. A poised and scaled fiend shrouded in flame and dark. A wicked hammer on its side with wings like a cloak.
"Despoiler..."
And the book fell.
A dwarvish warhammer struck his left leg, and a greataxe with holy fire his right. Fallen again, and having dropepd Aedan. Ebrik and Bartuc each raised their weapons- a golden smite gathering in the axe, and holy fire in the hammer, before both came down and dark, thick liquid coated the parlor.
The same boy who started Bartuc's day peered round the corner. "That was SO COOL!"
Ebrik tousled his hair as he approached Aedan and kneeled Bartuc looking around with an exhale. "Can you stand, lad?"
"Let me check... no."
Ebrik examined, then clicked his tongue. "Ever have a dislocated shoulder set before, lad?"
"No-" SNAP. CRACK. "SONOFABITCH!"
"Now ya have."
Lauriel slowly approached. Blade pieces clutched against her chest. Expression distant while scanning the room. "Is everyone alright?"
Ebrik nodded. "We'll live. Aedan's gonna be sore... what about you, lass?"
Bartuc turned. Placing a clawed hand on her shoulder. "...irreplaceable?" He eyed the sword.
Aedan sat up with a groan. Casting a concerned look.
"...it was a gift from my father to commerate my station. He forged it himself... learned to forge specifically for it between managing matters of state."
Aedan frowned. He couldn't imagine getting something like that... well... anything from his father besides a fist to bite down on. He wanted to say something thoughtful. Eloquent. "I... I'm so sorry, Lauriel." A step up from the 'wow. That sucks.' That almost escaped.
Ebrik spoke. "...I know there's plenty back home for both of us who would take offense, but if you imagine your father the Archon isn't one, I would ask Moradin aid me in mending the blade when I'm rested enough. I believe he would extend grace. If you're not too proud."
She wiped a subtle wetness from her eyes. And nodded as she recapture her composure. "...thank you, Ebrik. Guys."
Bartuc smiled softly. "A big change for dwarves and elves."
Ebrik had already begun surveying the parlor damage as more children wandered up. Already drawing plans. "Change is inevitable. It requires the work of the faithful and principled to ensure it's for the better, and doesn't abandon what ought to be preserved."
"Hm." Aedan nodded. "I like that one."
Mildred stepped up. Tired, but still young in her late twenties. Hands over her mouth, red hair down. Eyes wide. "Are you all alright..? The... the house..."
Ebrik spoke. "You needn't fear, milady. We'll fix it."
Bartuc nodded, then whispered to Lauriel. "We ought to find out where those men came from. How they came by that scroll."
"Agreed."
Emily tugged Mildred's gown. "I bet some of the neighbors would help!"
Aedan smiled softly, settling against the wall.
Lauriel gently lifted the dark grimoire from the floor. Dusting it off. Even cleaned it had a strange texture like ash. A single skull shaped ruby centered in a red pentagram, a skeletal hand gripping it, the arm forming the shaft of a staff... the symbol of Asmodeus. Or "Old Hoof and Horn" to those who still fondly regarded Heaven's once foremost archangel, now Lord of the Ninth, King of Hell, God of Tyranny and Trickery.
She approached Aedan, holding it out. "...You have use for it, I presume?"
He nodded. "Thanks."
And they all went to get what sleep they could.