ARC 6-Winter War-12
“Rrrooikk.” Was that a growl or a squeak? [Master Lou, I have the halfling’s scent, along with the attackers’.]
[I as well.] How? You don’t even have a nose. Her antennae twitch. Maybe? [You shouldn’t underestimate a creature’s senses because it doesn’t have a recognizable structure.]
I’ll trust you. “Alright. Nomad, stay here and start cleaning up. Gajin, take her and go to the closest guardhouse.”
“I already told you they won’t—”
“They’ll listen to you,” I say sharply, “because you’re going to explain to them that a master caster is about to settle a score.”
“Master caster?” She looks at dubiously. I jerk my head in the direction of my wife, who is busy stretching. “Really?”
“Gajin will convince them. Right?”
“Sure thing, milady,” he mutters, rubbing tired eyes. “I’ll do my best to save them.”
“Hurry, pets,” Kierra growls with excitent. “We will hunt them before the sun rises, while they remain unalert. Keep up with , Lou.”
Hah, are you kidding? This is what I’ve been training for. What I remade myself for. “I’ll be right beside you.”
-
It’s a good thing the streets are empty as the four of us tear out of the bar and race down the streets. Bell is in the lead, her weird sniffer the most adept at tracking. Right behind her new, bushy tail is Kierra and Geneva with bringing up the rear.
We move toward the heart of the city, where the buildings are taller and the roads are wider, fast enough the wind whistles in my ears. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited, my heart pounding in my chest at the thought of the impending action.
At so point, I’ve beco numb to my old fear of confronting powerful people, inheriting my wife’s enthusiasm. Probably when I beca strong enough to throw horses and tough enough to deflect a sword with my bare hands. Fighting is a lot more fun when you’re sure you’re going to win.
We co upon our first witness, a plain carriage with a single lantern hanging off its side. Understandably, the driver is startled, yelling and yanking on the reins. His horses aren’t pleased with that.
We all move to avoid the carriage as it loses control. Bell leaps over it, making the driver scream and cower. I follow Kierra as she darts to one side. Geneva scuttles under the thing but then suddenly straightens, tossing the carriage into the air.
“Really?” I shout as the driver and his passengers scream.
[We are rampaging, are we not? And they will live.]
“Keep the damage to the innocents at a minimum.”
[As you wish.]
The air starts to sll of tasty foods and sweaty, drunk people as we enter an area full of taverns, it seems. The streets are more crowded and the people aren’t happy to see us. They scream and scatter as we thunder down the road, throwing aside carriages and wagons.
“Rrroik!” [Master Lou, the scents diverge here. One of the attackers carried the halfling one way while his companion ran another.]
Bell, stay on Howie. Geneva, track down the other one and drag him before . Fight as you see fit but damage to a minimum.
Geneva breaks off and dashes away, leaping into a building through a window and eliciting more screams. A shrill whistle pierces the air and several armored n rush toward the tavern. I turn away as they enter, shaking my head. A wild laughter bubbles up and escapes my throat. Can’t wait to see what madness she’s going to report to later.
We reach the area of the city with the tallest buildings. It doesn’t take a genius to deduce these are the headquarters for the guilds. If the workers moving wagons of manabeast corpses and odd number of individuals with weapons on the street didn’t give it away, the banners hanging over the doors would. Only knight orders and guilds do that.
“Monster!”
Predictably, the hunters seeing my imp turned nightmare dog mistake her for a monster. Also, predictably, they attack.
Suddenly, we’re dodging a storm of attacks. Fire, lots of fire, strong gales of wind, rocks, ice, arrows, knives, and more rain down on us. Few hit and those that do we shrug off. A few brave souls run into the middle of the street to stop us with physical force but they don’t last a mont, snapped up in Bell’s massive maw filled with dark tentacles covered in sharp barbs or thrown away by my laughing wife.
“Rrr!” [Master Lou, the building ahead!]
The red banner with a torch on it waves in the breeze stirred up by the wind created by the casters trying to impede us. The Torchbearers. Didn’t expect that. “Ram it!”
Bell lets out a screeching howl before picking up speed. The attacks intensify as we near the building but they aren’t enough to stop us. The two hunters at the door, both dressed in crimson robes, erect a wall of fla. Bell jumps right through it, taking down the door and a good section of the wall.
“Left!” Kierra shouts before I lose sight of her in the flas.
I barely feel the heat as I dart to the right. I find the caster by his racing heart, slamming a fist into his chest. The air is knocked from his lungs and his ribs snap as he is thrown to the ground. The wall of fire falls and I see Kierra jumping through the hole in the face of the building, her target lying in a growing puddle of blood. I quickly follow her.
More red-robed casters are trying to subdue Bell. The air shimrs from the extre heat in the room and countless spells of fla splash uselessly Bell’s gray fur. She swings her busy tail and the fur at the end flies, dozens of needles piercing those who aren’t fast enough to dodge. The martial fighters who rush her are held back by paws the size of my head, wickedly sharp claws at their ends easily cutting through their breastplates and helts.
“You bastards!”
I turn to see soone rushing , sword raised. A quick blow to the stomach doubles him over, but I have to quickly step out of the way of a spell. Spotting the caster, I lift my first attacker and fling him, grinning at the caster’s startled expression before he’s knocked over by his comrade.
Let’s see. Multiple moving targets, most of them fire casters. They likely have spells to resist heat, otherwise they wouldn’t be trying to cook us. No need to expose my other affinities. That leaves…
I quickly scoop up so of the stones dislodged by Bell’s violent entrance, crushing them until they’re vaguely round. Then I take aim at one of the casters, launching a stone.
I wince as it pierces through his chest, leaving a gaping hole, the man crumbling like a puppet with its strings cut. Saints. Didn’t an to kill him. A little less strength. And maybe I should aim for their legs.
With the three of us working together, it doesn’t take long to subdue the room. Where is he, Bell?
[Below us.]
I can hear reinforcents coming from the floors above and gathering outside. Let’s not waste ti looking for stairs. Straight down.
A mont later, the wooden boards of the floor snap and the ground gives away, a cloud of dust surrounding us as we fall down, landing in a narrow hall. A hunter carrying a ring of keys in their hand has a mont to gape at us before a stone dents his helm. I don’t have ti to see how he fares as the ground rumbles and we fall again.
This ti, we land in a large room. An underground workshop? Or a storeroom. It has elents of both, with tables lined with glass cylinders and vials while crates are stacked in the corners. Between the lanterns hanging off hooks are papers with pictures of plants and manabeasts, notes scribbles in the margins. The air slls thickly of herbs and dicine.
In one of the room’s corners, sitting in front of a pile of crates, is Howie, tied to a simple chair. With his head bowed, I can’t see his face, but he seems unhard and his heartbeat is strong.
Standing in front of him is Cordy, the representative of the Torchbearers at the earlier eting, features moving from pinched anger to slack surprise as he stares at us. Beside him is Simone, the consul who arranged the eting. Beside him is another man in a crimson robe I don’t recognize.
Kierra turns to , letting decide how to proceed. I toss a rock up and down. They get one chance. “Does sobody want to explain why my favorite brewer is in your basent?”
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