It is not Friday anymore, but I really liked the @Lineshare-friday prompt for today. So, I’m going to post this phrase from my barbarian story anyway as it’s one of my favorite lines I’ve written recently with a little bit of extra for context.
“My last resort, digging to the bottom of my bag, I pulled out my daggers. Plan D. I let them fly as fast and accurately as I could. By the grace of a god I really needed to start praying to, I managed to blind the last two heads before I ran out of weapons.”
This short story got pretty long. I wanted to write a story about one of my DnD characters that I made for a one shot and probably won’t get a chance to play again in the near future. This isn’t really a character backstory, and it didn’t happen in game. It’s just a story about how she decided to multi-class.
The ogre, that brought these five children to my doorway, I killed myself. Shouldn’t have had to fight alone, but the troop that should have fought it was two miles in the wrong direction. As I always do, I handled the problem. All it took was my hand axes in the back of both knees and give or take a dozen swings of my great axe.
Word got around, and I found myself with five children -- or as close as makes no difference -- begging for my help on a quest from some rich lord. He wanted troll body parts for a wealthy man’s idiocy and sent a scrawny thief with all his very best friends to get them. I could tell with a glance they wouldn’t leave a troll’s swamp with their goal. They’d be lucky if their little singer still had four limbs and the smart ass wizard didn’t get his pompous head knocked off. Told them as much.
The monk, a silent judge seeking a court, raised one eyebrow as he noticed my sling. “Might as well find someone else. We don’t have a month to wait around on that. What good is a barbarian going to be with one arm?”
I looked down at their monk. They carried themself like they knew what to do with a body, but monks never knew true art. My fingers caressed my great axe in its rack just out of sight of my doorway before hefting the battle axe beside it. I gave it a flashy spin with my good arm, and settled the handle against my clavicle. With a wolfish grin, I replied, “You only need one hand to swing an axe. One arm with the right tool beats two without.”
Their fancy fighter said, “We still need someone who knows how to find a troll. She’s the best option.” He offered me a sixth of their reward if I’d lead them to their quarry and help them fight it.
I didn’t have anything better lined up. A troll sounded like it might be a fun fight. I countered 30 percent. We shook on 25.
The children wanted to leave that night. Hard to tell if they were more eager for glory or death. Not having anything to prove, I arranged to meet them at the town’s edge mid-morning.
Being a professional monster hunter, there are several things I never leave home without: two hand axes, one great axe, one battle axe, a handful of daggers, and enough rope to hobble a minotaur. Anything else is a luxury that adds too much weight to a pack I might be wearing in the middle of a fight.
Armor is also superfluous. I can take a few hits. The closest I get to all of that is a couple steel plates strapped over my boots and steel at the toes. Beasts should feel it when I kick.
Packing finished on schedule, I adjust the sling holding my injured arm before setting out from my one room house.
Thankfully, the children aren’t late. All five look ready to go.
“Morning Axehound!” The singer chirped. And waved.
“No. That’s not starting. It’s just Thorn,” I sighed. Rumors and bards invent the most vile titles.
“Is everyone ready?” the monk asked.
“Need help with your pack?” I could feel the overly enthusiastic fighter’s gaze on the pack straps resting only on my fully mobile shoulder.
“This is also not starting,” I said waving in his general direction. “My arm is still attached to my body. If I need it, I will use it. Concern yourself with your own limbs.”
They kept their appendages and opinions to themselves after that. For the next two days, until the group reached a swamp, the most I was subjected to was the singer’s “marching songs.” The children decided a hut with only 3 full walls and a third of a roof would be a good place to lay out their bed rolls. After a particularly long and high-pitched ballad at the fire, I decided to encamp on a dry—relatively dry—patch under a short tree.
I was woken by a soul shattering scream from the hut. It cut through the trees and me better than a razor. Hand axes still in my belt, I grabbed the battle axe and rushed toward the shack. I leapt off what remained of the fourth wall, swinging my axe into a humanoid blue whisp with the fall. A head rotated to face me. The body followed a half beat later.
Through my foe, I saw the monk, fighter, and wizard laying bloodied in their beds. The bard stared and shook like a leaf. The rogue was searching, likely for the weapons that should have been on him. All useless. Three possibly dead.
“Stabilize your friends!” I yelled at the two bumbling idiots before slashing into the specter again.
Two more quick swings of the axe. The creature barely flinched.
Non-corporeal. Right.
Probably wouldn’t be able to kill it with just physical attacks. I wasn’t a mage. I had no magic, and, despite my modest successes hunting valuable creatures, I’d never seen a point to wasting coin of enchantments. Usually, I hunted with at least one person who could cast. Of course, the children who did know magic were currently out of commission.
This was a fine corner I’d found myself backed into. Frustration swelled, catalyzed by the smallest drop of fear, and crystallized into rage.
My awareness of the other five people dissolved. All that was before me was a ghost. I felt the weight of my battle axe in my right hand. My left was ready, hovering over a hand axe. Humble iron might not be suited to this fight, but I’d attack until I couldn’t move any longer.
In only seconds from the first clash, the creature was flying toward me with a hand outstretched. That, I dodged. The spin drove my axe’s blade through the blue haze. It was subtle, but I saw a stutter as they went. That might have been pain. That might have been hope.
Just keep swinging. Hope it goes down before me.
Too far away to reach with anything less than the farthest leap I’d ever attempted, I had to settle for waiting for my opponent to come to me. I wasn’t mad enough to hurl either of my hand axes, yet.
Another ghostly hand flew toward me, and I swung. We both missed. The next sweeping pass the creature’s fingers swiped through my shoulder. Somehow, it managed to take one of my lungs with it. A blast of fire consumed one side of my chest. Breathing got a lot harder. I barely grazed its form before the creature was out of range again.
It wouldn’t take many more of those hits before I’d be down. I couldn’t use my usual let them hit you all they want then hit them twice as hard.
Keep moving. Learn to dodge, fast.
I tried. My axe hit on a few more strikes as I swirled out of the way.
The thing raked me again when I tripped. Probably over something that belonged to the children. Maybe one of the children.
Now, from where I lay on my back, I hurled my hand axe at the opponent. My injured left arm performed. That hit looked like it actually hurt. But, the strength to stand had already been pulled from me. I rolled to my knees, and readied my axe for one more swing. The ghost, a feral angry woman, came forward.
Her hand sliced through my throat. My axe cleaved her in twain. The ghostly blue glow defining her form evaporated.
Was she...
I waited a breath. Then, I waited two more.
That thing was gone.
I was still alive. That’s good.
Every inch of exposed skin was oozing blood. My very being felt like a dragon had gnawed on my soul. Not great.
Both arms were still in working order. Better news.
I’d never see that hand axe again.
The energy sustaining my rage was redirected into standing.
I called for the two that had been alive before I lost track of them. “Hey! Your friends alive?”
“Ye- Yes,” a whisper, maybe from their singer.
The scoundrel was at least clearer, “All three alive, but we can’t wake them.... What, what was that thing?”
“No idea. Grab all your stuff, and look it up later.”
I retrieved my great axe and other supplies. My battle axe took down the most intact wall. Two of the three bodies got tied to the wood with rope.
I pointed to the rogue. “You carry the stick.” I gestured to the third body before addressing the singer. “You help pull these two.”
“Why? We can’t move them like this. The thing’s gone right? We can just stay here until everyone wakes up?” They were babbling now.
“No. Stop,” I barked. “There’s a tavern, with guards, six—uh, no—seven hours from here. A wolf pup could eat me at this point. I’m not staying here. I assumed you’d want to live too, but if you don’t care to see the sun rise, be my guest.”
The conscious children exchanged a look with each other. I could feel their terror seeping into the night air. They nodded.
That creature stole more from me than I realized. It actually took eight hours to reach the tavern. Letting the children be useful to their own, I immediately collapsed in front of the hearth and slept until the next dawn. The proprietor must have been impatient as I woke in a bed, not on the floor.
I ached. I itched. All I could stand was three days.
My great axe, my pack, two of the five children I started with, and I went to meet a troll.
Despite its size, the troll wasn’t nearly as hard to kill as the undead mist. The children actually participated. I had my great axe and a target that stayed where I put it while I unleashed all of my rage and then some. My kind of fight, competently handled.
My association with the children severed after their gold was in my hand, the agreed upon cut with a bonus to replace the hand axe I lost saving their hides.
That mission taught me four very important lessons: don’t let children plan a hunt, a banshee should not be fought in its lair, trolls really are just ogres that take longer to kill, and I need to do more than physical attacks.
Now to find a quality weapon shop I can afford.
Contacts from a few different guilds pointed me in the direction of a capable artificer’s shop in the city two days from home. It was big. Definitely wasn’t the cheapest place I could have gone. But, I don’t skimp on gear. Not since I lost the head of an axe mid-swing and had to finish that job with a stick.
The store front was a grand thing. The tallest glass windows I’d ever seen faced the street. One was filled with a wealthy woman’s jewelry box. The other had a veritable armory of finely polished, engraved, jewel encrusted weapons. Great axes, hand axes, broad swords, daggers, even a butter knife were displayed proudly. The shine was enough to hypnotize anyone.
I shouldn’t go in there.
Steeling myself, I swung the door open and walked straight to the counter, ignoring the sparkling allure of a wall of morning stars.
Don’t know how to wield a mace, doesn’t matter how good it’d feel to swing. Need to be practical.
Every weapon I owned went with me to the shop, even the plan D daggers. Laying my collection out on the counter startled the shop girl intently polishing spoons.
“Oh, sorry.” She set her spoon carefully back in a velvet-lined tray, stashing the polishing cloth somewhere below her counter. Taking a deep breath, she started, “Welcome to Artful Armory. We specialize in --”
“I’m not here to browse. I need something to cut ghosts. Word is the shop takes trades.”
“Oh, um, yes, trades are conditional. And, to be honest, I don’t know anything about ghost weapons. I’ll get someone, who can, who knows... I’ll get someone.” She slipped through a curtain behind the counter.
I waited for too long. I couldn’t help repositioning and nudging my weapons into a regimented display. When there was no more I could arrange without starting entirely over, my attention ranged from my belongings to theirs. My feet I would not move from the counter. There was no need. The shop was filled with proud displays. Jewelry sparkled under individual glass cases. A corner of the room was dedicated to robes and accessories. An odd collection of items for a smithy. Light concentrated over pole arms before bouncing off large, solid axe heads. The selection of sixes and curves was amazing. I could tell each of these axes was special.
Curiosity got the better of me as I tried to inspect the tray of spoons without being too obvious, in case I was suddenly interrupted.
Which, of course, I was.
A tall man in a soot covered leather apron with a loupe dangling from a rough chain attached to the bib emerged from the back. His smile was wider than his face. His chest filled with the threat of a laugh.
“So, Daisy said there was a lass here looking to trade for a weapon to bust ghosts. That you Miss?”
I surveyed the room again. As I thought, other than an odd display dummy or two, I was the only other creature in the establishment.
“Yes. These are the options I have. What’ve you got?” I crossed my arms.
“Ah, to the point, eh? Well let me take you on a tour! There are so many options to pick from.” As he spoke, he swung himself over the counter, barely missing my property and the spoons. He started walking toward the corner with robes and boots. “Now, I understand you wanted a weapon, but the best offense is a good defense. We’ve got a great selection of --”
I cut him off as he reached up to take down a very large black cape of all things.
“I don’t need that. I don’t wear anything that can be grabbed or snagged. Please stop trying to sell me bits I don’t need.”
The man laughed, loud and deep. “Understood. Good to be practical. Now, as we walk over to the weapons, I’m not going to point out our amulets of protection, which you probably don’t need but might want to consider. They’re small, light weight, and we’ve got two types. One works by absorbing some of the opponents force to make it feel like a kitten. The other improves your luck at evading blows to begin with.”
I just stared at the man’s back as I followed behind. His shoulders betrayed the chuckle he was suppressing.
“Right, well, here are what you’re after.” He spun with a flourish at a wall of broad swords and great axes. “Now, I can tell by what you’ve brought, you’re a lass with specific taste. Common folk hear legends and think only swords can be used against ghouls. Lucky for you, any shape of weapon can kill the undead as long as there’s magic in it. This entire half of the shop, excepting that table where we keep a few simpler silvered weapons, is filled with steel enchanted in one manner or another. My guess is you want another axe.”
“Exactly.” My eyes drifted to another morning star, then caressed a pole arm.
Don’t need a weapon I can’t use. Don’t need a weapon I can’t use.
“Let me explain what each of these works of art can do.”
Going through each axe, great, battle, and hand, took time. The tall man would introduce each weapon, by its name, before explaining exactly what the magic in it did. If I liked it, I swung it and checked the weight. I swung all of the great axes.
Finally, he’d tell me the price. Even with extra merchant money in my purse, the great axes were all too expensive. My whole armory in trade wouldn’t cover the cost of most of the weapons. A hand axe, even if it froze the target when it hit and looked magnificent, didn’t do much damage. But, I’d have to make it work.
“That’s the last of this weapon group. Any of these sirens singin’?” The man’s smile had somehow grown over the last two hours. His big calloused hands rested on his hips.
Your whole shop is a choir.
I sighed. “Look, I’m just hunting monsters. Cleaning up small towns and the occasional escort job don’t make much coin, but I need something that will keep me alive regardless of what it’s hitting. After swinging these, I can make anything work. What will you take for trade?”
“First impression, you’ve got decent gear. Let me take a closer look at them and then I can tell you more.”
He lumbered back to the counter, pausing to give Daisy, who was now cleaning jewelry cases, a quick word.
While waiting, I wandered to the exotic weapons. Daydreams bounded through my head of myself with the perfect tool to present to every opponent. Couldn’t use them in a real fight, but I’d love to play. They all howled a hunting song.
“Miss,” called the large man soon after.
I packed away my far off plans and returned to the counter. “Which one or how many do you want? I just can’t give you all of them.”
“You are a strange bargainer,” he laughed. “Probably should have expected that from a barbarian. I like crafting things more than I need a fortune. See, I had a thought when you said you’d be facing monsters, and I had Daisy fetch me this.” He held up a small leather bound journal between two fingers.
My shoulders tensed as if I’d just walked in between fighting mages.
He ignored my discomfort, continuing in good humor, “This holds my ideas. A lot of them I can’t even try because my materials are limited. So, I’ve got a mutually beneficial proposal. Starting for say six months, I’ll loan you that last great axe you tried if you agree to help me track down some rare items while you’ve got my weapon.”
“What kind of items?” It was the cheapest piece on the wall but had a simple elegance.
“Simple ones you’ve probably encountered without realizing, giant hide, harpy feathers, siren scales, ice spider fangs. I’d give you a list.”
“Working only for you? For half of a year? For only the use of an axe?” I shook my purse, measuring its contents, for the third time that day. I was tempted. It wouldn’t be that much more time. Regretfully, I shook my head. “I can’t. I have to have paying jobs to eat.”
“You can take jobs that will pay. This would be extracurricular. All I want is a good faith effort to travel in a direction that allows you to also run errands for items off the list. Stop by when you’re in town, and I can also help with maintenance on your other gear. Deal?”
I thought, arms crossed. He wanted a hunting dog at his service. I was more of a wolf. Obedience isn’t something I do well. But that is a very nice axe.
“Okay,” I finally said.
“Good. Now, since we’re working together, what should I call you? I’m Dem.” He extended his hand.
“Thorn,” I shook the offered hand as a thought occurred to me. “You wouldn’t be able to thrown in a hand axe with that, would you?”
Jobs were as steady as ever. Some came through rumor. Some were delivered in person. Thankfully, none of them were accompanied by inexperienced children determined to drag themselves and all their associates to their graves ahead of schedule. Parties of would-be-heroes seeking to recruit me at least came with plans and, most importantly, a reasonable amount of experience. Improving my equipment so quickly was fortunate. The axe worked well. Dem’s plan was working well.
But, as I stood on a narrow ledge half-way down a steep cliff with two wispy wizards and a knight, I had to consider not all plans were good. Might need to reconsider my job screening process. Money was nice. Living without permanent disability was better.
The harpies, I swear, were laughing at me. Well, maybe they were laughing at the knight next to me, wearing so much armor she’d turned into a statue once we reached this ledge. The targets were hovering 30 feet off, randomly moving, like flies at the garbage heap, making it difficult to hit them. The wizards were barely able to keep the harpies on their toes with ranged spells.
I’d already had to throw myself in front of the wizards twice. That was supposed to be the knight’s job. The harpies were still fresh as daisies.
Pulling my rope from my pack, I turned to look at the casters while I tried to secure the head of the great axe.
“You two got anything better?”
The older of the two replied, twirling a blue feather between his middle and ring fingers, “I can get you up to them, but, if I don’t have complete focus, the spell breaks and you’ll fall.”
A second section of rope I wrapped around the head of my battle axe. The weapon I wedged as tightly as possible into the cliff face. As I secured the other end around my waist and both legs, I looked 100 feet down to the earth dying to embrace me and said, “Falling’s a later problem. Just get me close enough to hit those birds!”
I launched my great axe at the nearest harpy. The wretched bird whirled out of the way as the rope went taught. Frustration hurled a hand axe with all of my rage and none of my thought. I did not see where it landed, only the damn bird woman dodge me yet again.
I growled at the mage, “What are you—?”
He cut me off with a firm hand between my shoulder blades. My feet left firmament and I shot through the closest harpy. I lodged my last hand axe in another harpy at the same time a bolt of scarlet energy nearly took my ear off.
“Aim better!” I yelled without looking to see which mage had nearly maimed me.
At least this set knew how to listen. The next several red blasts, passing through the periphery of my vision, only hit harpy.
Flying helped, but I still wasn’t able to reach all the harpies. The last two were smarter. They fluttered just past the end of my leash. The problem had several possible solutions. Find the hand axes I’d lost. Use the daggers in my pack. Cut off the rope. None of those actually occurred to me sunk in the depths of my rage.
With both hands, I spun the great axe in a large arc over my head. Luckily, I managed to catch and kill both harpies in the strike. Unluckily, I managed to slam the axe into the cliff face, edge first.
I didn’t even have time to wince before I was falling, swinging toward the cliff myself. My feet hit the rock first, giving me enough time to protect my head.
“Sorry!” The older mage called.
“Warning would’ve been nice! But I’m here now. I’ll fetch the feathers. You stay there to pull them up!”
Holding tight to the cliff face, I found my way down. It didn’t take long to pluck the harpies and fill all the sacks the other three threw down to me. Finding my second hand axe was a lot harder. Eventually, I had to declare it lost.
Once all four of us were safely back at the top, back from the drop, I finally examined the damage on the great axe. I winced.
Dem’s not going to be happy.
Dem would not stop laughing. “Of course a wizard would know how to get you into the air but not the spell to survive the fall!”
“Magic can stop a fall?” I frowned.
“’Course it can. Easier spell to learn than the one to fly, too.”
“You know someone who can do it?”
“Lass, I can do it. I’ve even put it in coins. Let me see…” He ducked beneath his counter, banging and clanking just out of sight. He pulled out a brass token, about the size of a gold piece, with a feather pressed in the center.
“I knew I’d still have one lyin’ around. Here, take it. Think of it as a trade for a good story.” He flipped the coin to me. “Be careful though. It works automatically if you fall while it’s on your person, and it only works once.”
With a deep breath, I set the coin on the counter. “You should have this before you give me any more free stuff.”
I set the great axe down. The edge now resembled a saw.
Dem chuckled as he picked up the weapon that still, technically, belonged to him. “What were you hitting with this? A boulder mimic?”
“Had to tie a rope to it so I could get it back after I threw it at the harpies. Then I swung it, and two harpies, into the cliff.”
“While in a fit of rage I bet,” Dem chuckled again. “There are better ways to get a weapon back than a rope, lass. There are better weapons to throw than a freaking great axe.”
He ran his thumb over the edge of the axe. Thoughts were flitting through his eyes.
“The hand axes were already gone. The battle axe was anchored on the cliff. Great axe was the next best thing.”
“It will be a few days before I can get this fixed. Can you sit still that long, lass?.”
“How much do you want for the repair?”
“Two to three days of physical labor.”
“I guess I’ve got that. What I don’t have is two hand axes?”
Somehow after I started working in Dem’s shop, pumping bellows, cleaning up scraps, and hauling everything he didn’t want to, I never really stopped. I realized pretty quickly he didn’t actually need my help. He employed two other crafts-people to make most of the items he enchanted. The big beautiful weapons were the pieces that Dem created from start to finish.
Liars had gotten me into quite the situation this time. “Researchers” wanted to see a manticore. They needed protection “just in case” the monster caught sight of them and attacked. Should have been simple. I’d fought a manticore or two before.
Except, it wasn’t a manticore. It was a chimera. As soon as we encountered it, I knew I’d been set up. They were excited, babbling about correct predictions and good luck. They wanted to get closer.
It was not possible to hide from a creature with three heads. Only sheer stupidity would lead someone to try in the first place. One head caught sight of a researcher’s giant shiny medallion, and before I knew it, I was trying to keep three heads from eating me with one great axe.
The only thing the fools did was run. But, I couldn’t get five feet from the thing without it trying to take another shot at me. I was enraged.
I’d have been lucky to live through the next few minutes. Luckier still to kill the thing. That was the first problem. I had never been lucky.
The second problem was that I was not at my best fighting alone. Yes, I killed ogres by myself and fought banshees with an audience, but those creatures were not a chimera. The thing had three heads! Just one other person to distract a head was all I’d need.
The last problem was that I only had 5 hand axes. The chimera could fly. I was going to lose my axes. I was going to lose my brand new perfectly balanced hand axes again.
Cataloguing my problems as I ran for my life, I threw one axe over my shoulder. I heard it connect with something. Who could tell if it hit something that actually mattered. Four axes left.
How do you run from a thing with three heads?
A wide roaring river materialized just beyond the trees and with it came an idea.
At the river’s edge, I faced the creature. Teeth first, it charged.
I snarled and threw two axes, one for the dragon head and one for the goat.
Only the goat axe hit, across the eyes. Well, now at least one of the heads was blind. Two axes left.
The chimera came closer. My last two axes flew. And missed.
Shit.
My shoulder and scalp tore open with the creature’s attack. Thankfully, one swing of my battle axe drove it back into the air, without me.
No axes left.
Damn, I needed it blind before I escaped. No time to string a rope around either of my axes. I did not want to bait that thing in close enough to strike again.
My last resort, digging to the bottom of my bag, I pulled out my daggers. Plan D. I let them fly as fast and accurately as I could. By the grace of a god I really needed to start praying to, I managed to blind the last two heads before I ran out of weapons.
Wasting no time, I flung myself into the river just as the blinded chimera threw a blast of flame. My already maimed arm was seared anew.
That river saved my life. The water hid my scent, and the sound hid my movement. I rode the waves all the way into the nearest village before turning right around and heading for home.
“That’s it! I have had it!”
I threw Dem’s front door open with so much force I rattled his display cases. He emerged from the back, perpetual smile still in place.
Leaning as far over his counter as I could, my face inches from Dem’s, I locked his gaze with mine and growled, “Teach me your magic.”
He pushed me back with two fingers to my forehead. “What happened this time? Must be bad if you want formal teaching.”
“Bad? Bad. Dem, I had to use daggers. It was horrible! The fools fed me to a chimera!” I threw both hands in the air. Tried to throw both in the air. My seared arm didn’t go past my shoulder. Dem noticed.
He grabbed the wrist and turned me to get a better look at my fresh scabs. With an appreciative whistle, he said. “You just need to pick your jobs better, lass. And run faster.”
“No. I’m tired of being caught unprepared. Thought I’d fixed it when I took five hand axes with me. I lost all of them. I need magic, and I need better, reliable weapons. Since I can’t afford your best work, I’ll have to make do with creating it myself.”
“So you won’t pay me for my weapons but want me to teach you all my secrets for free?” He laughed. “I might like you, lass, but a man’s still got to eat.”
I paused for a moment. In my frustration, I forgot everything had a price. There was nothing of value I could offer him. Still, lay out what I could give, maybe it’s enough.
“I could help in your workshop full time. You know I’m strong. I’m not an idiot. It wouldn’t take long to teach me.”
“She says it wouldn’t take long to teach her when it took me five years to learn my basics. You don’t even live in this city, lass."
“If I’m not prepared, the monsters will keep hunting me. I can move. I need magic.”
“Okay,” he grinned. “I’ll take you on as an apprentice. First task, apprentice, apologize to Daisy for scaring her with your desperation.”
I hadn’t even seen the petrified shop assistant sitting at the counter, polishing cloth hanging from one hand. Like soothing a frightened fawn, I whispered my apology.
Dem winked at her. “Best to start getting used to outbursts, Daisy. We won’t just be able to send her on her way when she gets cranky now.”
Two years later, Dem’s shop had a second counter. Okay, it was a small, rickety table in the back corner. But it had a fancy metal sign, “Monster Mercenary. Application for services required.”
It was my table. Once I had basic magic down, I started getting restless. Dem had, of course, predicted that. Before I demolished half his workshop with pent up frustration, he suggested I take the occasional monster hunting expedition. He did insist I screen jobs more strictly, though.
“I’ll still feed you, apprentice. Don’t go out and come back missing an arm. You need both of those, in working condition, for the forge,” he’d said.
I greeted the first petitioners with a pleasant enough expression and a rehearsed greeting. Working for Dem meant being trained to a sales pitch.
“I’m Thorn, and this is Connie. Got a job for us?” Dem just didn’t provide a script.
The fairer of the two gangly girls in front of me turned to the other. In a poorly suppressed whisper, she said, “The axe has a name. Are you sure this is the person you want to help us? Crazy people name axes.”
“Consequences is not an axe. She is a work of art. If you need a great axe that can take down your worst nightmare, that’s us.”
The two girls looked at each other. I appraised them. No muscle to either of them, only one sword between the two of them. I raised one eyebrow.
“Why are you two here?”
The unoffensive one said, “We need someone to help us slay a black drag—”
“No.”
“No? You don’t even know why we need your help. And you’re the only one in this town who—” the other spilled in a rush.
“Too bad. There’s a guild 3 days to the west you can try.”
“The dragon’s to the east!”
“Doesn’t matter.” I pointed at the second line of my sign. “Applications are required, and yours is rejected. I don’t seek out painful deaths in the company of fools.”
No more idiot children playing adventurers for me.
The first job I took Connie on was with a well seasoned adventuring party who just wanted a stand in for a member who broke a leg on their trek toward a few displacer beasts. I only had to wait two months to get it.
I packed up my professional monster hunter essentials. Rope went in first. All fifteen hand axes I made and Dem helped me enchant to return once thrown were next. A comfortable bed roll with pillows and a change of clothes were a new addition. My battle axe went in last. I checked the straps to my boots and tightened my the cord holding my protection amulet. Around my hips, I fastened both my harness and bottomless bag. A rod went in to each harness pocket on my thighs. Connie, in a place of honor and easy reach, rode on my back.
The journey out was uneventful. The hunt went well, no surprises. My clients knew how to fight. I did not have to keep children whole while they tried to kill themselves. I did not have to keep myself intact while wizards tried to drop me off a mountain. I did not run for my life. I did not lose a single hand axe.
It didn’t matter if I was 100 feet away or breathing the beast’s rancid breath. I had magic for the first and Connie for the second.
I can do anything.
The high from that hunt was almost better than the feeling I got when I slayed my first monster when I was 14, no, 12. Magic was great.
I might be a barbarian, but I was definitely becoming an artificer.
(I tried a couple times to fit a description of Thorn into the story, but she doesn’t pay attention to what she looks like. So here’s a picture of her instead. She’s actually not as thin as she ended up in this picture, but I got tired of trying to fix something that was just okay. This story might have also been an excuse to get myself to finish this image I started ages ago.)
There existed two cultures, forged by the gods, in the world. these species lived among themselves in peace. They were humans and beasts.
They gave birth to different races, and they all shared the world of Gaia.Life prospered among them, and new species were built by the gods of the upper realms. Years went on and reigns rose and fell, cultures were born and faded into darkness, empires were built and cities spread all over the world.
But peace, it remained. it seemed that harmony would rule the world…
...but it couldn’t last forever.
One day, two new kingdoms rose
Muruan the empire of humans, and Lonshysh city of elves
Lonshysh citizens disliked humans but tolerated their presence, the queen of this kingdom allowed anyone to cross it or reside there,
unlike the Muruan king, who promoted his subjects to believe those who werent pure blooded were enemies, causing specism to bloom from the kingdom’s heart and spread out and wide,
to the point anyone who was not considered worthy in the king’s eyes would have the honour of being killed in his name.
Monsters and demi-humans stopped crossing the small empire of Muruan for the reputation the king forged.
but this discrimination didn't stop here,as the king of muruan had special plans for the fellow creatures he considered unworthy of living
The beginning (1/?)
