by A Uscila
Regardless of how social and quick-witted Slicknick seemed, even he ended up stunned by the display – enough to be late on the uptake and confused on what to do next. Which might have been a problem, if not for the rest – since everyone else soon followed-after the grumpy magician, some without a visible disposition towards recent events, while others seemed quite up-in-spirits – mainly Willow, who failed to suppress a sadistic grin.
It was at this point that an unexpected Vivian prowled onto Wail, called-forth by the half-assed introduction. Sneakily, she came in from the side and grasped his defenseless hand – an action that completely caught the warlock off-guard. To such an extent that poor Wail instinctively pulled away the appendage in recoil, like a startled animal – unused to physical contact. Or at least the gentle kind.
Frozen in a pose of near-flight, he turned to meet the crystalline eyes of this unexpected foe, as if to check what intent was hidden within. What underhanded evil plot was cooking within that head of hers – yet all he could manage to discern was…innocence. Pure, childish innocence with not a shred of ill-intent and this was what shook Wail to his very core. This was why people feared children, why they couldn’t help but falter before that purity, couldn’t help but lower their guard against it. Couldn’t help but…underestimate kids.
Thus, mesmerized by the sight of Vivian still attempting to grasp at his lifted-up hand in desperation, he did not even notice himself slowly, but surely – giving in. For with each passing moment, strength seemed to sip away from the appendage, as it lowered towards the erratic Vivian with ever-increasing momentum. Right until it was finally caught as if some small treasure, grasped by two small hands and held within with unsettling desperation – her barely noticeable weight pulling down with clear intent to ground the ever-fleeing warlock. To hold him down. To prevent his escape. No matter how dense or cold-hearted Wail was – none of his defining characteristics could shine at this moment of weakness. Thus it was that with a heavy sigh, the magician finally allowed this small victory to the ever-clingy child – his appendage now dangling at the side, enough to make it comfortable for Vivian to hold-onto. A smile as bright as the sun shining in reply to his actions – with the only visible reaction from the warlock himself, being a dissatisfied scowl, flashed moments before he turned away completely. Both walking off, hand-in-hand, as if a father and his child.
Behind them, Willow stood in what seemed like shock – her gaze locked upon the sight of the two in such close and intimate proximity. Slowly, her arched eyebrows seemed to tilt, turning into a furrow, while delicate lips trembled ever so slightly. It was hard to say, what affected her so, yet Willow was, without a doubt, struggling with a compulsion to obstruct, to disturb to…corrupt. As if there was an unstoppable need to corrupt something innocent. Something beautiful.
“What do you think you’re doing you pedo…“ – Before she had the chance to satisfy the compulsion, Slicknick ended up interrupting her efforts, be it intentionally or not, as he scampered past her in pursuit of the magician. All her efforts ignored by both the receiving party and the new-acquaintance. Indeed, the ranger’s eyebrows now formed a full-blown frown.
“Hey, wait up!” – He exclaimed, a shout that did not get any kind of a reaction from the target.
“Ah, just forget about that big baby, he’ll get over himself eventually” – Reluctant to give-up and swallow the shame of being ignored, Willow attempted to change tactics – only to indirectly jeer at the mage, all the while using the goblin as an accomplice. Yet once gain – she found herself left behind, be it due to the low-volume of her voice or just blatant disregard. Following the temper-tantrum of the vixen’s eyebrows – Willow’s lips were already reaching new records in how low the corners could go.
“Hey! You didn’t let me finish!” – Indeed, without paying much attention to the vixen, Slicknick finally managed to catch-up to Wail and once the two were side-by-side, attempted once again to initiate a conversation.
“Finish what?” – success wasn’t far around the corner, though the grumpy tone and a reply given without even a glance in his direction did seem to cool-down the goblin’s enthusiasm a bit.
“Can I help you out somehow? You saved my hide back there, you know. Where are you headin’?” – Slicknick did not seem bent on giving up. Yet.
“None of your business” – Yep, Wail was still quite grumpy. His disposition standing in complete contrast to Vivian’s own, as her eyes sparkled with excitement, feet set into a merry-skip.
“Oh come one man, don’t be like that!” – Yet the goblin seemed quite persistent as he re-approached – “Look, I’ll be frank. By the looks of it, your group is going towards the Festering Gut dungeon, right?” – he paused for a moment, expecting verification, yet getting none, another hurdle that simply did not seem to have been enough to stop the determined tag-along – “I’ll take that as a yes. Either way – judging by how my band of minions were not bent on attacking you, I’m guessing that you and the rest aren’t exactly on the positive reputation road, so you’ll probably end up causing a commotion there. How about letting me stick-around? I’m sure me and my gang will be of some help if need be!” – Oh, this little guy was on a roll. Quite fearless as well, after all – his litany did not seem very effective at improving moods – a matter easily discernable by the ever-increasing furrow in Wail’s brows.
Finally, the magician was ready to snap, a glare towards turning towards Slicknick, lips ready to open and, without a doubt, let loose something undeniably mean. If only Willow didn’t intervene and get in the way of some good old fun in being a total asshole.
“Hey hey! Now look here, little mister! I don’t know how much of an idiot you think my ugly friend here is, but there is no way I’ll allow you to lead-us by our noses like that!” – While waving a finger as if reprimanding a child, Willow intervened – her facial features stern and uncompromising. A few shifty glances shot towards Vivian during the whole speech.
“Why so interested if we’re going to Festering Gut?” – Wail didn’t even attempt to approach the petty vixen regarding what was said and there was plenty to fix, instead – he completely ignored her and continued-on with the conversation as if nothing happened. Quite mature of him. If only he had managed to hide that frown away, then his dissatisfaction would have, maybe, been unclear.
“Should I take your lack of denial as a yes? You seem like a trustworthy sort, so I’ll tell you” – the goblin replied, pausing slightly when a snicker from both Willow, Bob and even Sorro interrupted his speech. Their reactions not unnoticed as Wail shot them a glare – “Truth is – I kinda need to get into that dungeon for a quest of sorts and the bastards that have been camping the entrance won’t let me in. So, I figured, seeing as they aren’t likely to let you through either, we’d work together to somehow resolve the issue!” – Oh, what a diplomat. Lips twisted into a friendly grin – which didn’t look as friendly due to the protruding tusks and sharp fangs that were laid-bare.
“Don’t listen to him Wail, he is clearly up to something! Look at that slimy grin of his!” – Clearly, if the goblin didn’t plan on being her ally, Willow was not about to let him remain neutral, as she verbally attacked, an accusing finger cast towards him amidst accusing shouts.
“Hey! I can’t help it! I’m a goblin for peats sake! It’s how we look!” – Pushed back onto the defensive, an inevitable end, Slicknick shouted with raised hands as if to push away the rude statement.
“Want me to fry him? His voice is really getting on my nerves” – Swaggering into the conversation with a bloodthirsty grin, Sorro dropped a spark into it, as if in hopes of it catching fire. Speaking of sparks – it was quite amazing how the forest has yet to catch fire from his very presence.
“Oh, you would know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you?” – With a raised eyebrow, the warlock mocked or in other words – played with fire. A dangerous game. Might end up singed. Or burned alive.
“You hinting
at something? Huh!?” – Sorro, clearly offended or purposefully latching onto the ridicule, shot back in a tone that seemed uncomfortably common amongst hoodlums.
“My voice is not that annoying…” – Slicknick could only pout silently to the side, the objection slipping by the notice of most those present, which helped avoid any escalation to violence on the matter.
Yet there was someone who still possessed an almost instinctual drive for curiosity, together with required attention span and memory to observe multiple events and/or objects within a short period of time. With clear green eyes and a somewhat worried expression, Vivian managed to glimpse at the goblin’s hurt expression – her attention quickly jumping to Wail as she lightly pulled and pressed the held appendage.
“What?” – somewhat dissatisfied with the short time of peace that his previous sacrifice managed to purchase, Wail could only glare down at the little child, only to find her pointing at Slicknick – his deduction skills, honed throughout years of observation, coming into full swing to help understand the situation better.
Clearly, the goblin was distraught for some reason and with the relentless pressure from Vivian – how could Wail not relent?
“Look, you can tag along, but I’m not promising you anything” – Finally, he could only play along as the agreement was breathed out together with whatever little pride he had. A hard thing to hold on to, when you had to constantly give in to a little girl. Yet, not all hope was lost – for Wail repressed a sneaky little sneer that threatened to slip-lose, for even though it did seem like the magician lost another mental battle – in truth, he gained another disposable tool, another distraction to guarantee his own well-being in whatever would await near and within the dungeon. Truly, an evil mastermind in the making.
“What?! Are you retarded?! Do you always have to do the opposite of what I’m suggesting just to spite me?!” – Enraged, Willow could only below in reply, her hands swung about to emphasize the swirling emotions, while black hair fluttered from the motions.
“Why yes, yes I do” - Wail, displaying an uncharacteristic confidence, replied nonchalantly, his tone as even as the ocean’s surface during a calm. So, not that even, after all.
Oh Wail. Always with the thin ice.
Chapter 65
Leaves rustled, as the wind whistled past the forest – carrying with it wisps of dust and dragging along pellets of sand and rock, the baggage scraped up from the bottom of a jagged cliff that loomed oppressively high above the woods – a part of a seemingly endless mountain chain.
Leading away from it all and through the restless woods, was a winding forest path – dusty and covered in grit, the grass pushed back to the very edges, which indicated its’ common use. As if to push the point further, two individuals were strolling along it, both immersed in an emotional discussion - energetic hand movements and scrunched-up eyebrows shared by both.
“Those bastards…” – one of the two, complained – a middle-aged human male of average height, dark short hair – covered from head to toe in an arbitrary assortment of armor. A sword hanging from his waist – “…they took most of what I managed to earn over there. At this rate, I won’t be able to afford new skills!”
“Yeah, just because they were the first ones to take over the entrance, doesn’t give them the right to abuse it so much…” – the other agreed – another human male of long, straight, golden hair, clothed in grey robes – a piece of leather armor here and there and armed with a small rectangular mace and a buckler – “…we should find another dungeon to grind, because at this rate we…” – the elaboration stopped at that, as his attention was suddenly caught by a sudden rustle from nearby – the attentive colleague redirecting his attention in echo.
From there, a figure of black plate stepped out – complete darkness from within the helm’s slits meeting the eyes of both – startling them as they took an unconscious step back. With a black long-sword in hand, its’ blade pulsing with red – the sudden guest stepped closer to the stunned two, only to stop a bare five feet away.
“Excuse me, did any of you come from the nearby Festering Gut dungeon?” – Yet, contrary to the scary appearance, polite words were spoken – the tone an ominous echo as it left the confines of the helm.
Somewhat surprised by the development, the two colleagues could only exchange glances – the one in robes taking the initiative soon after.
“Ah, yes. We just left recently” – Politeness was answered in kind, while the grip on the mace was tightened, sweat making the contact somewhat slippery.
“Could you please tell me a little about the fort that guards the entrance? Anything specific? Like how many people are usually there? Are the buildings inside wooden?” – A series of questions followed with the same ominous echo of a voice, the previous answer taken as some prompt to continue.
Once again, the two exchanged glances as if they came to some understanding – their features turning serious all of a sudden, a dark glint in the eyes coming into view.
“Well, there’s not many, usually – like fifty or so, only about twenty-seven of them being guards. They’re well geared though, so it’s usually enough to extort money out of people like us” – In quite the criticizing tone, the robed man explained, information gushing out like water from a broken dam.
“Yeah and they’re pretty mean about it too! They usually demand 80 percent of the spoils gotten in that damn dungeon!” – The variously armored compatriot joined in enthusiastically.
Like a representative of a firm, their listener nodded in reply as if to reassure of his undivided attention – the metal plates rubbing against each other in a screech.
“The inside is pretty much all-wood as well, heck – there’s even wagons of wooden crates, dried grass and other junk lying around here and there!” – All guard dropped at this point, while mace and buckler were waved about erratically – one of the two continued on.
“Oh, but you should be careful – the guards at the gates are quite strict – they’ll probably demand extra money from you for entry, simply because of how threatening you look” – Warned the man wearing a spiked, copper shoulder-piece, and a mismatched ragtag collection of bits of metal interconnected by chains on his leather-clad chest. His grip on the sword lightened, at this point.
“Thank you for the warning and your time. That will do” – With displayed gratitude, the black-knight looking fellow simply turned and left the same way he entered – just as abruptly, as well.
Moment’s passed after the departure, while both colleagues that were left behind remained rooted in the same spot as if expecting some sort of a continuation. Their eyes locked upon the point of departure – frozen and speechless. They didn’t need to wait long.
“You idiot! I told you to scout the place out, not ask some random passersby for information!” – Almost like an explosion, a furious shout smacked them right out of their stupor – the direction of the noise coming from where their interrogator disappeared.
Startled – the two exchanged another glance, only to carefully approach the thick forest-growth, curiosity getting the better of them, as they carefully parted the leaves and attempted to glimpse at the source of all that racket.
What they saw was something out of a horror flick.
Huddled under a large tree, the shadow cast by it obscuring their fine features from being discerned - stood a ridiculous gathering.
At the very middle of it – a figure robed in black robes with red lines tracing along the surface in peculiar and confusing shapes, almost skeletal fingers with pale flesh sticking out from the sleeves. A piercing gaze glared from within the obscured facial features, turned at a direct angle downwards – right at a prone figure of the familiar armored fellow. Black plates and a menacing sword – the dark-knight who so recently interrogated the two seemed to be prostrating before the previously described man - a scary thought, considering how menacing the knight seemed before.
As if that wasn’t enough
, the two were surrounded by apparitions and demons of all kinds – a prancing about, fire-spitting creature of sharp claws and swirling pools of lava for eyes. A floating blob of teeth and oculars that levitated in the near vicinity as if in search for prey. A disfigured, creepy-looking figure of pale skin, torn and singed flesh, pieces of armor melted upon it. A female succubus, whose identity was simple to discern after but a single glance upon her unearthly beauty. Tight-fitting black leather worn to emphasize the womanly charms, while medium length hair fluttered in the wind, brushing against the dark green cape hanging from the shoulders. A lithe hand rested upon an elaborately shaped dagger’s pommel. Not too far from her, stood another peculiar creature – pale skin, beady eyes and sharp teeth. Almost child-like stature and a hunched pose. Clothed in worn leather and covered in straps littered with hoops and hooks – something hanging in and from each one – a goblin, without a doubt.
Finally, the topping on the cake – a small, innocent child of long black hair and pure, scared eyes – held firmly in place by the robed criminal, hostage to a host straight out of hell. A host whose clear leader was asking about the dungeon fort. With that thought, which seemed to have struck both the observers at the same time – the two exchanged yet another glance, performed a firm nod and slowly and silently, they slunk away and ran towards the opposite direction as if nothing happened. Though their slightly hasty steps told a different tale.
*******
Life outside Festering Gut was as lively as usual – individuals of differing racial features and eccentric attire bustled in and out of it, its’ circled wooden frame strategically constructed right outside the dungeon’s entrance. While people armed from head to toe stood as guards near each exit – guiding people in and out, though paying extra attention to those that were about to leave. After all, before any could pass through the fortification and safely leave – every single one was required to stop at the toll booth and its’ personnel, be it willingly or not.
