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54- A Beer And A Brawl
🕑 Added 2025-08-05 23:17:56 +0000 UTCVraxious- The Forsaken Lands
The Sentinel flailed its nerves around, groping at the nearby ground for a moment, seemingly getting used to moving without the weight of meat and flesh upon it. Then it began winding its arm ropes around itself, all the small dangling nerves tying themselves tight, turning it into a creature roughly the shape of a snake with the large half-broken eye in place of a head.
Torvald cursed under his breath, fighting back. The need to vomit and ran to aid Vrax, Sunshine beat him there. The sentinel seemed almost shocked something went after it; its nerves were so hot it was cooking the corpses near it, and a psychopathic daisy hit it with the force of a runaway cart, carrying it fully across the cavern to slam into the wall so hard the ground shook. Sunshine was oblivious to the acrid smoke pouring from its body as it burned.
The eye of the Sentinel locked onto sunshine from a hand span away for about half a second before two tendrils ripped the eye off and stuffed it into the maw with a plorping sound. Torvald slowed to a stunned jog as he and Vrax watched Sunshine. Sunshine was stuffing the writhing sentinel into its maw, the tendril mouths greedily chewing through the dense, corded creature bite by bite. It was like watching a bird slowly choke down a snake far too large for its gullet.
The sentinel disappeared from sight, and Sunshine rounded towards them all of its tendrils stuffed into its own mouth, either sawing at or eating the struggling horror. Smoke was slowly rising from the plant horror's maw as its petals smoldered. The sentinel desperately flailed halfway out for a moment before Sunshine angrily smashed its own face onto the ground, and tendrils chewed with renewed vigor, letting the ground hold its prey captive in its mouth.
Torvald turned to look at Vrax, then slowly mouthed the words "You made that” with a horrified look on his face. Vrax smiled like a proud father as they both stood there catching their breath while Sunshine finished blending the Soulrender horror that had met something worse than itself. The surge of essence was substantial but nothing compared to the fight against the undead idol.
Vrax added all his intact creatures back to his garden and led them down the nearest tunnel quickly, leaving the warzone before something deeper inside noticed the absence of traffic. Farther into this flesh-coated stinking hell, Torvald was still struggling every few breaths not to retch at the stench.
Vrax silently dispatched every grub they came across with short jabs to the eyes, a smite in the shape of a cross rotting out what counted as a brain for the vermin. The amount of wriggling entombed creatures on the walls increased in density as they continued on. One shape on the wall was unmistakably that of a man; he had passed halfway free from the orange sludge, a hunting knife still clasped in his hands as his last hope.
“Fuck this place,” Vrax whispered. Torvald tried to grunt in agreement but simply doubled over, retching quietly against the wall.
The tunnel ahead gave way to another cavern, this one lit with a dull yellow luminescence. Vrax crawled to the edge and looked in. The entire room was strewn with crisscrossing tapestries of flesh that draped like thick curtains from the ceiling. Hundreds of man-sized eggs sat clustered around the bulbous form of the soul-render Matriarch in the dead center of the room. Thankfully her form was mostly obscured by the stretched canvases of meat. And all around the edges of the room, Vrax saw what they had come for. Shallow pools of yellow-gold honey that freshly hatched grubs greedily sipped at as their bodies finished forming. Oh, thank all the merciful gods above. Vrax thought as he quietly reached his arm around the corner of the tunnel, beginning to scoop from a pool of honey that was blessedly in arm's reach of the tunnel exit.
Vrax crawled back and forth, filling every empty jar he had and pouring them into small casks Torvald had ready in his pack. It took a very tense few minutes. Torvald had to blindly kill a few grubs that had come up and started munching on him. But by some miracle they didn’t alert the not-so-distant matriarch. If she saw them, they would have half the hive pouring after them. When they had filled every cask Torvald had on him, they crept back up the tunnels.
They made it most of the way back with only the occasional grub in their way until they rounded a particularly sharp corner and came face-to-face with a collector. Torvald shoved his oversized pack into Vrax's arms suddenly; his face was an awful mix between rage and nausea.
“Get the FUCK out of the way! I have had enough with these fucking tunnels!!!” Torvald bellowed mid-charge, ramming the collector down the corridor with a shoulder, screaming the entire way. Vrax jogged behind, struggling under the weight of the pack. Torvald didn’t slow his pace. The collector was halfway on his shoulder, slashing at his arms and face as Torvald simply kept shoving his fist into its side and ripping out handfuls of organs. When they hit the next sharp corner, Torvald threw the bear-sized monster at the wall with a sickening crunch, then stepped back slightly before charging into it with an upward hammer swing that bounced its remains off the ceiling; it splattered back to the ground in an almost unrecognizable heap.
Vrax watched Torvalds’s warcry talent seal the myriad of cuts across his face with a bit of concern. “You, uhh, good?” he asked a bit lamely.
Torvald threw up violently in response, letting out a pitiful strangled cough afterwards. He didn’t even stop walking; he just kept trudging upwards as he retched. Vrax stepped around the trail Torvald was leaving behind and thanked all the gods above that they were almost out of the nest.
When they finally broke to the surface, Torvald didn’t stop trudging ahead until he was solidly into the mesa away from the stench; he stopped and took ragged, grateful breaths of fresh air. Duchess peeked out from the nearby jungle curiously. Torvalds gaze locked onto her, like she was the cause of his suffering. “You! Where the fuck were you for all that, you useless fucking poultry-eating...” Vrax watched in sheer astonishment as Torvald chased after Duchess like she had stolen his lunch.
Duchess shouted back at Torvald in a mocking tone as she made her escape; the voice of the haughty noble echoed out, “That meat had spoiled. What do you take me for, a filthy peasant!?”
Once Torvald calmed down, they trekked back to the abandoned market. Torvald set about meticulously looting the place, and Vrax started making damn sure nothing moved in while he was gone. He released the Maneater Daisies into the city (except for Sunshine) and planted both varieties of dandelions around his new domain.
They rested for another two days at the market. Torvald looted the hell out of the surroundings, and Vrax started a garden in the real world for the first time. Vrax even made a few new abominations out of the park trees dotted around the market edges, figuring if they survived while he was gone, then they would be useful. The last thing Vrax did before they left was adapt as many warning signs as he could around the edges of his new domain.
Vrax and Torvald Traveled back to Hopes End with no real impediments; it was still a journey through the forsaken lands fraught with danger, but the thing that remained had scared many of the worst creatures from the area. It took them the better part of three days camping in sheltered places during the nights and skirting around any unwanted fights during the day. Vrax stuffed Duchess back into the Garden before they exited the forest proper. And the first thing they did when they arrived in town at midday was head to the market to give Martha her due.
She was standing in the center of the busy market next to her stall. A merchant caravan had just arrived in town and had set up on the edge of the marketplace behind her; thick carts with orange streamers had doors thrown open for the locals to rifle through the creature comforts they had brought. There were also four separate groups of adventurers Vrax spotted, in addition to a group of rather shady-looking individuals that Gregory was lurking in the shadows to keep an eye on.
Vrax slid through the hustle and bustle with a hastily wrapped package, stepping right up to Martha's stall with a beaming smile. She flicked a strand of golden hair from her ruddy features and returned his smile. “Well now, dearie, I’m guessing this time you did in fact come to settle up for that earlier mishap.” She deftly scooped one of Vrax’s favorite honey buns from her display, holding it out like a reward.
Vrax traded his parcel over, taking the buns with a grateful nod. “Yes, my dear resplendent, talented, and frankly terrifying baker. There is even some extra in there, as I was hoping to ask you a favor, a rather large one. I know you are fond of me and would hate if something were to happen to one of your valued customers.” Vrax flashed a winning smile and made an appreciative noise as he bit into her confection.
Martha huffed good-humoredly. “Boy, with words as honeyed as those, I am willing to bet you get what you want more often than not.”
Vrax mumbled around his mouthful of happiness, “Honestly yes, I’m kind of amazed how often it works.”
Martha shook her head. “Alright, what could the mighty forsaken paladin need from me?”
Vrax stiffened a bit at that jibe, but honestly most people in town would be able to figure it out pretty darn quick. Here goes nothing. “I have found that my martial skills…are lacking in real-world application…”
Martha gave a hearty laugh that rang out across the market. “Oh, oh my, you finally fought someone who actually trained with purpose and got your socks beaten off you, didn’t you?”
Vrax sighed. “Yes, that’s exactly what happened.” Then in a quieter tone he added, “Damn farmer of all things.”
Martha let out another friendly laugh, clasping a hand on his shoulder, her grip alarmingly firm. She wiped a few tears from her eyes with her free hand. “Sure, young man, I’ll teach you one gold lesson, and don’t even dare complain about it; you know how much I could actually charge.” Her eyes had narrowed to that of a merchant once again.
Vrax flinched at the price, but honestly it was a damn generous offer. She was probably, at a minimum, in the upper echelons of the second tier with a lifetime of combat experience. It wasn't uncommon for noble lords to pay in the hundreds of gold for lessons for their children with such powerful figures.
“Well, thank you, ma’am!” Vrax tipped his hood towards her in a gallant fashion. “I’m off to get some well-deserved wine!” Vrax turned to leave.
“On your way you might want to retrieve what I assume are your pets? That explorer came into town with two fuzzy little things full of sharp teeth and sass; last I saw, they were sleeping in the beard of an exceedingly drunk dwarf who had passed out slightly outside of the tavern.” She said with a tone that suggested they had caused more than one issue already.
Vrax and Torvald made their way to the hogs trough with large smiles and dreams of spiced meat and mead. True to Martha's description, there was the very heavily armored dwarf loudly snoring on a bench slightly outside of the inn; he was using his helmet as a pillow, and two sets of curious eyes peered out from his beard. The Conductors chirped happily towards Vrax, scurrying out and sailing to him, stuffing themselves in their customary pocket. Both of them looked almost sadly at their passed-out friend making chirps as Vrax continued towards the bar.
“That guy’s name was Hans, right? I'm going to have to thank him for taking such good care of them. I mean, it will completely give away my identity, but for some reason I don’t feel like he’s going to do much with it.” Vrax said thoughtfully.
Torvald chuckled. “Yeah, I dunno; he seems like he would be fun to get drunk with. Let’s shake him awake in a few hours and see if he’s ready for round two.” Torvald said cheerfully, hopping up the steps and bursting through the inn doors.
The few midday patrons gave a halfhearted wave on seeing the returning regulars. Tom the librarian was eating lunch surrounded by stacks of scrolls taking up two tables in the corner; he pushed up his glasses and gave an enthusiastic but tired wave before putting his nose back into a scroll. A scruffy man in the corner, who was deeply drunk for it just being midday, squinted in their direction before returning to his cup, mumbling to himself about not a druid, my ass.
Rafael pushed up to the bar, his belly resting upon it perfectly. “Bout time you two came back! Have a seat and tell me all about your adventures; the few rumors filtering in here have been damned amusing.”
A few hours, a hearty meal, and more than one mug of ale later, Rafael was booming with laughter at Vrax’s latest story. “I’m sorry, did you say Torvald fought the squirrel?” Rafael incredulously looked at Torvald while holding a napping conductor in his hand. Torvald grumbled into his mug.
“Wasn’t really winning either,” Vrax added, shuffling towards the bar more. The tavern was starting to get crowded, with fully half the tables occupied and drinks flowing freely.
Vrax looked over towards Hans; he was squared up with the town blacksmith. Elmric, a bear of a man covered in pitted scars and a beard down to his waist, his squinty eyes bored into Hans in challenge. “Aught yu backwoods yokel, let’s see hu hard yu can really hit.” Hans carefully set down the conductor that was threateningly staring down Elmrick from his shoulder, starting to gather shadows in the corners of the room. He raised a slightly swaying finger in its face “Dunut need ur hep my darlin floof thus is a mans contest” Hans staggered back over to Elmric and started swinging.
The bar around them whooped good-naturedly as the two figures clobbered the shit out of each other. Tables were slid out of the way, and even Rafael chuckled at the show after his furniture was put somewhere safe. “See, that’s how you do it. No weapons, no skills, I don’t have to repaint or kick anyone out... Ohhh ...gods he will feel that in the morning!” Hans had been pinned to the ground by Elmric, who was throwing ponderous, powerful blows into the side of Hans’s head. Hans reached up past the swings and yanked the man to the floor beside him by the beard, tearing nearly half of it off.
Everyone paused for a moment as the dwarf looked at the mass of wiry red hair in his hand. “Oh gods, I dunnu, men, ta laddie.” Hans looked aghast at what he had done.
Elmric let out a laugh that rattled windows in response, spitting a bit of blood onto the floor beside where they both lay. “That’s a first. Can I have my beard back? I bet with a potion I can reattach it.” Elmric said, rubbing the slightly bloody bald spot.
Vrax smiled broadly; he was happy to be home, with good food in his belly, surrounded by friends, family, and…. His joyous moment soured as the three rough figures from the market confidently strolled into the tavern, eyes searching for someone. He noticed the manacles hastily hidden in one of their pockets and a pair of bolas on another's belt; they were almost certainly bounty hunters.
The way the energy in the bar simmered from revelry to cautious whispers was downright creepy. Half the chairs and stools in the bar shifted to face the newcomers. The bounty hunters certainly noticed it, but the one in front with a wicked scar across his face and a neat goatee pushed ahead anyway. Slowly scanning the room before speaking in a calm but authoritative voice used to intimidating its marks “The Paladin, where is he? Thirty gold in hand to the first man to point him out.”
Vrax flashed identify, there confidence wasn’t entirely unfounded—not a single one of them was below level fifty. Not that that would help them much here in the heart of Hopes End in a bar full of some of the empire's worst cutthroats, adventurers, and mad mages.
Torvald leaned towards Vrax, a massive smile on his face. “This is going to be fucking great!” he said enthusiastically, grabbing another mug of ale and settling in to watch the show.
Comments
Sam
Thanks for the chapter
Beeees!
Hmmm, so they come after hopes ends golden boy and immediately announce that they are carrying at least 30 gold on em, not the smartest move I've seen
