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2024-10-29 19:42:56At first he thought she was going to refuse, for she was young, she had only recently arrived from the country, and she still had quaint ideas about virtue. But she was a slave to the Empire; she belonged to the lowest peasant class owned by the feudal lords, and she had fled to the city to escape serfdom. Losing her job at the tavern meant having to choose between starving to death in the city, trying her luck in the nearest city, or returning to the empire where her master's wrath awaited her. If she lost her job there, Wolf could see to it that she didn't get another one. When the reality of that situation penetrated the girl's mind, she lowered her head to nod once; the movement was so minimal that it was hardly noticeable.
“In that case, get out of my sight until then,” Wolf said.
The girl fled as tears streamed down her face, pursued by coarse jeers.
Wolf allowed himself a contented sigh, then drained another glass of wine. The sweet, clove-scented liquid stung down her throat and set her stomach on fire. He glanced across at Heinrich Kasterman, sitting across from him, and the fat, pig-faced young nobleman stopped gorging himself long enough to give him a flirtatious smile.
“Well done Wolf. Before this night is over, you will have initiated Greta into the secret mysteries of our Dark Lady. Can I meet you later? I ask for a turn.”
Wolf frowned as Heinrich made Lilith's secret sign. Not even his father's fortune could protect him if it became known that he and several of his trusted comrades were followers of the princess of lust, the goddess of pleasure. He looked around to see if anyone had paid any attention to what the fat fool had said, but no one seemed to have noticed them. He relaxed as he told himself that he was unreasonably restless. The truth was that he was a little nervous since the symbol of Lilith had appeared on his chest. The books assured him that it was a sign of special favor from his mighty Mistress, a mark that proved he was one of the Chosen. Still, if someone knowledgeable about the forbidden ever found out...
Perhaps the wisest thing would be to finish off the girl after he had gotten what she wanted tonight.
"Perhaps. Well, that's the fun of tonight... But what will we do until then to entertain the long and tedious hours in this boring place?
He didn't see anyone he was worth tormenting. Most of the patrons were of a similar social status to his, and were accompanied by their own bodyguards. In one corner sat an old man, no doubt a sorcerer, leaning on a staff. The two corner booths were packed with merry pilgrims. Only a fool would anger a sorcerer, and the pilgrims were too numerous to be easy prey. The torches swayed in the draft of the outer door opening.
"Perhaps the fun has just arrived for this evening."
An oddly disparate couple entered The Sleeping Dragon. One of the figures was a short, slender, black-haired woman whose lightly tanned face had sharp, handsome features; she possessed exotic eyes with vertical pupils, a pair of charming cat ears, and a long sensual tail wagging slightly behind them. It was obvious that the clothes she wore had once been elegant, but now they were stained, patched, and battered from the long journey. From her attire, she might have been a beggar, but there was something in her demeanor, a nervous poise, that suggested she wasn't as down-and-out as she seemed.
The other was a stocky man a little taller than the door of the tavern, since he had to bend his head a little to enter the building, the Feral girl barely reached the man's chest; Her body was clad from top to bottom in imposing plate armor, she carried on her back a greatsword that a blacksmith might have had a hard time lifting with two, and descending from her shoulders was a slightly billowing crimson cloak. .
Wolf had never seen anyone like him. The armored warrior moved slowly, seemed wounded.
They walked to the bar, and the girl ordered two pitchers of beer. The well modulated accent of hers that she spoke of her suggested that she was a cultured woman. The armored warrior set the greatsword down by the fire, and the girl seemed somewhat shocked, as if this was the first time she had seen him do such a thing.
The tavern had fallen silent, waiting for what Wolf and his cronies would say. He this one knew that they had seen him torment other newcomers before, so he sighed; he supposed he had to maintain his reputation.
"Good good. Has a circus come to town? he commented aloud, but, to his irritation, the two at the bar ignored him. “Hey, inept! I asked if a circus had come to town!”
The girl in the faded cloak turned to look at him.
"You're talking to me?" she inquired, her voice soft and courteous though belied by the cold, steady gaze she directed at Wolf.
“Yes, with you and your asshole friend. Are you perhaps some clowns traveling with a traveling company?
Catgirl glanced at her stocky companion, who continued to look around her in a daze.
"No," she replied, and turned to her beer mug.
The girl looked confused, as if she expected a reaction from the armored warrior, a reaction that did not come.
Nothing infuriated Wolf more than someone showing contempt for him by ignoring him.
“You seem sullen and rude to me. If you don't apologize, I'll have my men teach you a lesson in good manners."
The man at the bar barely moved his head.
"I think if anyone here needs a lesson in courtesy, it is you," he replied calmly.
Nervous laughter from the other patrons of the tavern fueled the sparks of Wolf's anger. Heinrich licked his lips and slammed a clenched fist into his chubby palm. At such a gesture, Wolf nodded.
“Otto, Herman, Werner, I can't stand the smell of this tramp anymore. Throw her out of the tavern. Outside you can do as you please with it, have fun of it”
Herman walked over to Wolf and rubbed the knuckles of his clenched fist through his unkempt beard.
“I do not know if that would be wise, my lord. Those two look tough,” he whispered.
Otto rubbed his shaven head as he looked at the armored warrior.
“That one looks like he's wearing Adamantite armor, and he has a platinum plate that identifies him as an adventurer. I heard platinum rank adventurers are dangerous.”
“So are you, Otto. I don't keep you around because of your wit and charm, you know that. Settle your accounts."
“I don't know…” Werner grumbled. "It could be a mistake."
“How much does my father pay you, Herman?”
The big man shrugged resignedly and motioned for the other thugs to follow him. Wolf saw that he was putting something hard and metallic on his fist, and leaned back to enjoy the spectacle.
The catgirl with long black hair watched the approaching thugs.
"We don't want trouble with you gentlemen."
"Too late," Herman replied, and threw a punch at him. To Wolf's surprise, the unknown she parried Herman's blow with her forearm, then doubled the big man with a punch to her ample belly. The armored warrior did not move.
"Frei, help me!" the girl yelled as the thugs rushed at her.
The armored warrior just looked around her in a daze and backed away as Werner and Otto grabbed the young girl by her arms. She herself fought bravely and made Otto jump with a kick to the shin; she then punched Werner in the face as she staggered back while clutching her nose, which was bleeding profusely.
Karl and Pierre, two of Heinrich's hired louts, joined the fray. Karl hit the girl with a chair to the back of her head, knocking her down. The others picked her up and put her against the bar; then Werner and Otto held her down, and Herman proceeded to take his anger out on the helpless stranger.
Heinrich winced each time a fist slammed into the stranger's body, and Wolf felt her own lips part with a growl. He found himself gasping with bloodlust, and felt a real temptation to let Herman continue to beat the girl to death. Then his thoughts turned to Greta, and she became aroused. There was something about pain, particularly other people's, that appealed to him. Perhaps later he and the girl would follow that train of thought to its logical conclusion.
Wolf finally snapped out of his reverie. The young catgirl was bruised and bloodied as he made a sign that she was enough; he then ordered her to be thrown out into the street. The armored warrior continued without noticing anything.
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The desire to kill reverberated through Jasmine's brain, and the darkness rooted in her soul threatened to overtake her completely. Madness bubbled through her veins, and bloodlust flooded her as if she were a drug; her carnage gave him ecstatic pleasure. She wanted to find the black-armored warrior and kill him, for of all the enemies she had faced, he was the most powerful: a worthy offering indeed to the god of Wrath. At the last second, when she was about to brush aside his sword and kill him, her fate, in the form of her own idiotic followers of hers, had intervened to separate them. She wanted to find him again and finish the fight.And then she saw the girl. As if against her will, she gazed at the frightened little face that peeked out from where she was hiding. He knew what he had to do, because it was time to end this once and for all, to take the first step on the path that would end in eternal life, to take advantage of the opportunity offered to him of a glorious
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Jasmine watched as the great cannon blasted the third breach in the city wall, then decided enough was enough. They had to save powder for the next fortification they came to, and the gaps were big enough for their soldiers to squeeze through. The defenders were tired and bewildered, so the time had come. She signaled to the bugler, and he sounded the advance blast. Marching to the beat of the human-skinned drums, the beastmen sprang into motion.Jasmine felt the thirst for blood rise within her, and with it, her desire to offer souls to the god of Wrath. She that night she would make him a great offering.♦ ♦ ♦Elysia watched as the tide of beastmen surged across the grounds, and archers began firing from the ramparts. They chose their targets calmly, methodically, and efficiently, and fired. Arrows pierced the darkness, piercing chests, throats, and bestial eyes. As the infernal drums beat, the relentless bloodthirsty beastmen continued to adva
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Elysia watched the clouds overhead, racing across the sky like a mass that twisted and undulated in a strong wind. The color of the forest had changed from a light green to a darker, more ominous hue; she seemed as if the trees, like everything else, were waiting.She was standing on the parapet at the top of the wooden wall, and she was looking across the fields, straining to catch any sign of movement in the undergrowth. By her calculations, it was the end of the afternoon. Next to her was Frey, who was looking at his sword with disinterest. Every ten paces along the wall there was an archer, one of the woodcutters, men who could hit an ox's eye from two hundred paces, and measuring the distance between them and the line of trees, Elysia realized. realized that this was a slaughterhouse. Any attackers would get bogged down in the plowed fields and be easy targets for archers.She tried to let that thought reassure her, but she couldn't. Night in the woods was not lik
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Elysia looked up at the ornate golden hammer that gleamed in the early morning light streaming through the open door of the temple. The runes etched into the Hammer's head reminded him of the ones adorning the blade of her own sword, but that didn't surprise him too much. Her sword had been the most prized possession of an Order of paladins and it seemed only fitting that the sword be engraved with holy signs.There were few people present; only some old women who were sitting cross-legged on the floor and praying. The babies with their mothers were outside, getting the cool while they could, and Elysia guessed the air might be unbreathable in there with the doors closed.The temple was a simple sanctuary with a simple altar, except for the presence of the Hammer, which was used to bless marriages and contracts. The Father, The Mother and The Son were not very popular deities there, since most of the woodcutters looked to Belial, Lord of the Forests and God of the Eart
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Kat hurried toward the base of the watchtower because she felt the need to be alone. She had grown tired of sitting by the large central bonfire, and not even Frey's presence reassured her. She felt very alone in the midst of all those busy adults; in reality, there was no one with whom she could talk, and for the first time she realized that she no longer knew anyone in this world and that she had no place in it. Her flames reminded him too much of the Kleinsdorf fires. The ladder barely creaked under her bare feet as she climbed toward the trapdoor with the agility of a monkey.Elysia was sitting alone, and she was looking into the darkness. She had long since set the sun like a bloodstain on the horizon; the moon had risen through the sky, its silvery light bathing the surroundings. A gentle breeze cooled Kat's cheeks and made the forest whisper and murmur ominously. Elysia watched him mesmerized, lost in her own thoughts, and she hurried across the tower and sat down besi
