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ALL THE -PUNK GENRES
Tegru hated cities.
He didn't know why people would actively choose to run the risk of being stabbed, robbed, raped and your corpse desecrated all in the span of a single day. He enjoyed people, sure, as the higher concentration of people led to a higher probability for Stories to form. Yet a city holds so many dangers. Tegru simply didn't have the time or the willpower to defend against them on a daily basis. A large town was maybe the largest Tegru would prefer to be in. Or maybe a town built in the ruins of a once great city. Oh he'd like that. Simply just exploring with Sparra and f-
What was he thinking about? He had a legitimate job to do.
He blinked and looked around in the cramped carriage. He locked eyes with an amused looking Sparra "Daydreaming are we, Crow?" Tegru gave a tight lipped expression, lowering his head in embarrassment. He glanced outside their armoured carriage. There was a group of beggars following their carriage in the hopes of a donation. Sadly Tegru didn't have any money left on his person. The one at the back, the girl with a child in her arms, looked genuine enough to convince him that she wouldn't outright use the money on drugs and booze. Still though, it's for the best. She could have wasted it on herself rather than the child…. Maybe.
He gave a lingering look as the women begged incomprehensibly, stretching her hand out with tears in her eyes. She couldn't keep up with a carriage though, and fell into a pitiful mess.
He forced himself to look the other way, she could be false. She was probably false. Tegru just had to look away and he would believe that. He just needed to look away.
Turning his head made him meet some half dead hospital. The building itself looked like it was dying along with the people inside it. Some weren't even inside. They spilled out of the door in stretchers built so badly, Tegru was pretty sure he could build better ones. What with his flimsy arms and uncalloused fingers, he figured he could build something that would last at least a week. Those things looked like they wouldn't even last the hour.
What in the Gods' name happened here?
Tegru could see Sparra was asking the same thing. Her hair pulsed green light as the two braided tails swished nervously. A nervous tick Tegru noted about her. She always stopped when she saw he was looking at her, though. When her glowing red eyes locked with his own brown ones, it was no exception "Hey Crow. The people here…. They're superstitious to say the least. Especially now with the vampire problems they asked us to get rid of." Tegru gave her a questioning look
"Listen, Kid" She started, using Kid to let Tegru know that the matter was both extremely serious and her Godling lifespan has given her intimate wisdom about the matter "Don't do anything unnatural. At all. No random bouts of Chanting" Tegru frowned "No inscribing healing runes all over the fucking place" Tegru blinked "And don't, and I mean this one, interact with crows. They'll have you on a stake for being a warlock faster than you could say 'Abracadabra' "
"Who said that?!" Some idiot outside their carriage yelled, looking around with that certain manic murder in his eyes. Tegru wanted to shout him against the wall on instinct, but calmed down quickly enough. These people were superstitious. The pair remained in odd silence until they were more than sure they passed earshot "See what I mean? If anyone asks, you're a mute. You're no magic user. If anything, do that thing you do where you furrow your brows and give that 'What are you talking about?' look you do."
He gave her a curious look. What was she talking about?
"See? That."
Tegru blinked and held back a laugh, Sparra giving a lopsided smile.
The carriage dropped to Tegru's left, then jerked back up unceremoniously.
Before anything, these guys need to fix the roads.
Tegru liked to travel as much as they did, but he'd rather not be here. Where he couldn't even write in runes due to their rhabdophobic nonsense. Honestly why couldn't he help people? Because they're scared of little glowy scratches in wood? He couldn't let something like that go. He wanted to help these people. Make them see reason. He literally had more luck that one time when they worked with Orcs. Those things see magic as weakness. Tegru was still convinced they took that job because Sparra lost a dare. He just never had the opportunity to ask her about it in a way that wouldn't piss her off. Not like he could even ask it verbally to begin with.
The carriage jerked to a halt, leaving Tegru to stop the inertia with his head by bashing it against the back wall. It didn't hurt, but there was certainly plenty force behind it. He was mildly surprised it didn't hurt though. He thought it would. From the looks of Sparra wincing, she did too. He gave her a small wave off to show he was fine, and opened the door to his right side, as always, to get out. Sparra opened the left. While she landed on a dry, albeit poorly made, sidewalk, Tegru landed an entire foot of his sandal in the unknown horror of a strangely coloured puddle.
Ffffuuuuuuuuck.
A look of disgust came over him as he started hopping on one foot and twitched his tainted one to get rid of the water still attached. He suppressed a shudder, a scowl forming on his now soured face. He walked with a slight limp as he didn't like the feeling of his socks pressing that cold gunk against his feet, but he couldn't limp. These idiots would probably start thinking him a leper or some other sort of stupid magic fearing shit like that.
Sparra gave him a pointed look, shaking her head. She of course dressed to fit in: A nice trench coat, big collared with a wide brimmed hat, and a pair of sturdy boots to go with her leather leggings. Tegru wore what he always wore: A robe of some sort and sandals. He wasn't in the mood for waddling around in something with so much tight fitting cloth, though it certainly agreed with Sparra. Then again, everything agreed with her. A thing Tegru simply did not understand.
The important people were waiting at the door of some building, as always. This time it was a mayor. The fat kind. Honestly it reminded Tegru of his father's fat but… rounder. Instead of finding every nook and making everything round except the back, this particular breed of fat made the man look like an oversized clayman small children were supposed to play with. Or maybe a fresh loaf of bread. Perfectly made to have a smooth, round form
"I suppose you are the anti-witches?" The mayor ask, his moist hands rubbing together nervously. Gods, please don't let him shake those things. Who the fuck even knows what he's done with them. Tegru wanted to eat now. Not rush to the nearest basin to get whatever sticky stuff. No. Just please no.
Sparra shook it without even flinching. Braver than him.
"We're not…" she began, but looked harder at the mayor. Apparently, gathering from Sparra's more cautious tone when she spoke again, the Mayor wanted to pass our magic off as "Antimagic". Dumb sod probably didn't even know what that was to begin with "Ya. We're the Anti-Witches. You called us for a… Vampire problem?"
The mayor blinked "That was settled a week ago." Tegru snorted. Of course it was. Did some other problem pop up in between and they thought himself and Sparra was sent to fix that? "We have a new problem. A coven of witches settled into our fine town!"
Sometimes he hated it when he was right.
Also Fine Town? Seriously? Did he see the same town Tegru drove through on a steel carriage? With the beggars and the with-child women and the hospital that looks like it belonged in a fucking ruin? That city? Then again if they had the horrible infrastructure damage that follows with witches, it'd be unsurprising.
Tegru sighed
Once. For Once he'd like to be angry without arguing himself out of having right to it. Yet Tegru found that he always logically argued his right to hold a grudge away. It frustrated him even more than the actual thing he was mad at, because then he had nothing to point the anger to. It was like not allowing a fire to give off heat.
Wait they were still talking.
He repeated to sounds he heard when he was contemplating: Something about details of payment, exact sums and things like that.
Tegru let his mind wander again, he wasn't part of any of that to begin with. He turned his head to view what used to be a public park. Everything was dead now, but it gave the park a pretty feel to it. Pretty through chilling atmosphere. A crow cawed to get Tegru's attention. It held out it's left wing, then the right. A small greeting they always do when they wish to show him something interesting. He glanced back to Sparra, then returned the gaze of the crow with a frown. He shook his head, indicating that he didn't want to see the crow's surprise. The crow in question looked at him with it's head tilted to the side, like it didn't understand that Tegru just did that. Tegru replied by tilting his head to the townsfolk, making a motion of a townsmen with a pitchfork.
The crow flew away.
Tegru returned his focus just as Sparra, probably in some feat of great will, shook that mayor's slimy hand yet again and still managed to smile. Tegru still had to hold back a shudder at the thought of it.
Payment was apparently sorted. Now they had to fix the town's problems. First they'd need to find the witches' lair. From there they could ambush them while inside (For whatever reason witches rarely have more than one entryway/exit in their lairs. Probably to make it easily defendable but yet it was always their downfall with Tegru) Tegru didn't think that the case would take longer than a week, if at all. He should probably start looking for a Story though. A city like this, with the way it's broken down, would probably have a few new ones. He'd either choose one of those or a particularly ancient one. One long since forgotten. Sadly Tegru could only tell so many Stories, yet so many more were still Untold. It saddened him when he thought about it, so he didn't like to think about it too much.
He wasn't at the point where he needed to worry about that though. He was hungry. That was where his worries should be. He gave Sparra a pointed look, miming putting food in his mouth. Sparra nodded "Ya me too. Come on, it's late. Let's find a decent looking inn and sleep there for the night." He gave her another pointed look. He made the eating motion again and gave a small thumbs up, raising an eyebrow to indicate a question. "Yes, Crow. One with good food." Tegru nodded, satisfied. He let her lead the way. They inns they passed were filled with grabby drunks. You could see the type a mile off. Neither of them were in the mood to deal with those imbeciles.
After a while, the setting sun went to twilight. They eventually found a relatively calm place by the name of The Lonely Barfly. Amusingly enough it didn't have barflies, literal and figurative. It's for the best though. For some reason they kept jumping Tegru. Like they actually expected him to know how to handle things like that. Admittedly he had a strong, handsome face and nice green eyes, but you're supposed to tell if someone has no experience with matters like that. Or maybe they were just too drunk whenever they met him? No, someone had to be sober when they jumped him. It happened enough times for it to be impossible otherwise.
Women.
Tegru opened the door for Sparra on habit, walking in and quickly taking a seat at the table. The music from the idle musicians sounded reasonably pleasant for uninterested ears. The barmaid, rather pleasingly dressed, leaned over the table, using her arms as struts "What can I getcha?" Sparra spoke up before Tegru tried gesturing "Roast chicken and fresh loaves of bread. For both of us. And bring the grease you cooked it in with." Tegru felt his hunger growing at the thought of the stuff. Oh that'd taste so good. He gave Sparra a smile, nodding his head in thanks as he decided to conclude the day after the meal.
*********************
The next morning, Tegru started the day by washing himself. He had a nice big wash tub and Sparra was still sleeping in her room, otherwise she would have woken him. He was apparently supposed to heat the water up with the fireplace under the tub, but a few heat runes scrawled on the sides of the tub with charcoal did the exact same thing. He made a mental note, and thankfully remembered, to wash the runes out before anyone could see them. That was a headache he didn't want to face here. Especially after Sparra told him not to scrawl runes all over the place. This was different though. He could just erase them after.
Tegru sat back down in his bed, digging his book out of his luggage bags they had carried back and started reading through his tome. An interesting little thing explaining some absolute drivel about the supposed origins of magic. As far as Tegru could tell, the book did a terrible job of saying nothing in particular, pointing to very vague sources and making absolute truths of them, making baseless assumptions on that as well. According to the book, an ancient God by the name Garovesh made all types of magic and promptly killed himself because…..reasons. Done. End of theory.
The only thing Tegru could accept as intelligent was the author's excellent use of Black Script. The language had countless rules of grammar and the sentence structuring literally changes depending on the mood of the sentence, the nature of the topic itself, the age and gender of the person writing it and all the other qualms of time and tone of normal sentence structuring. Honestly it was a masterpiece behold and a horror to learn. The man made mistakes, undoubtable in it's consistency as he seemed to have jumbled his happy and negative tones. Based on the book it seemed the man was around sixty when he wrote it. He was also male, even though he jumbled into female grammar every now and then. He was also someone who enjoyed talking about cultures a lot.
Sparra came bursting through the door, scaring the shit out of Tegru. She never fucking knocked did she? Holy shit, just once he'd like her to knock. One of these days he's going to scream a fucking hole into the wall and it'd be her fault. Not his. It's not his fault his voice had a pack of bulls worth of kick.
Tegru took a deep sigh as Sparra laughed at his jolted flailing "I see you're awake. Didn't eat breakfast though." Tegru shook his head "Too far?" A nod, drawing out a smile from Sparra "Come on. Let's get that sorted." Tegru groaned, stashing his book in his luggage bag before getting breakfast. Something he didn't regret, surprisingly. Very well seasoned eggs with boiled vegetables. Clean boiled, the juices of the vegetables made a good enough taste as is. The chef really knew what he was doing. It was surprising that the place wasn't more populated. With cooking like this, the chef could be in the King's Court in the matter of months if he thought he could achieve it. He wouldn't think so though, Tegru knew it. You either had the ambition or you didn't. Telling a man that would have no effect unless you left a resounding impression. A mute boy that looked like a noble's bastard didn't leave enough of it.
"We're going to walk the streets, find information vendors" Sparra stated "Find the most likely place for witches to hide out." Tegru gave a nod, moving back rather dramatically to show Sparra the barmaid was coming to pick up their plates "You two enjoying ye're stay here?" Tegru nodded, patting his stomach with satisfaction. Sparra nodded as well "It's got good food, alright. Who's your chef?" The barmaid put up a show of modesty "Oh I don't think I cook that well"
Well it'd explain why she isn't a king's cook. Tegru didn't know why, but that was always a male role. Even if most men eat women's food. Tegru always found it amusing how they always placed roles on everything. Even written language wasn't spared of that, as evidence by Black Script.
"Oh you do." Sparra stated, then shut off as the girl did another false modesty. All she really wanted was more praise. A lot of people do that, the fake modesty. Either as etiquette or, in her case, because it entices people to try and convince you. He'd bite. She gave him good food and he'll make her feel good for it.
He nodded furiously, eyes wide with intensity. He patted his belly with a satisfied smile. It brought out a rather cute giggle. She gave him an… amused smile. That wasn't supposed to be in her character. "Ye mute, den?"
Tegru nodded, it was easier to say that than to say your voice had the power to break down a door due to how powerful you were at Chanting.
"Ahh'see. Y'make sounds 'r are yer voice gone?" Tegru made a humming noise. He didn't like where the conversation was going. Sparra noticed too and tried to redirect it "Listen. We're here on official business. Would you mind telling me any rumours you heard about these witches?"
Too blunt. Changed the topic though. Sadly it made the entire room fall silent. Even the musicians Tegru didn't even notice until they stopped playing. Must be such a common thing in inns you simply ignore it as background noise. The barmaid gave a tight lipped smile "Ye sure ye wanna ask dat?" Sparra noticed the tension, but pushed on "Yes. Yes I do." The barmaid sighed "Dey say dem witches are holed up in the park. 'S why nobody goes dere anymore."
Tegru blinked. The crow from yesterday. It just motioned him where the witches were. Tegru leaned forward and grabbed Sparra's shoulder. He nodded furiously, showing that he had it on good belief the lair was there. Sparra sighed "Thank you. That'll be all." The barmaid quickly made her way with the plates, far more interested in leaving rather than charging for the meals.
Tegru got up, dusting himself off. He gestured his head to the door. Sparra nodded "You're right. Best we get searching. The sooner we do this, the sooner we get payed." Tegru nodded, opening the door for her and walking around to look for the park. Surprisingly enough, it was just a street or so from the inn. It could be why they had such terrible amount of customers. It could also be why everyone at the inn was so tense about it. Probably feared that uttering the word "witch" would bring them forth and make everyone's day that less pleasant.
The search was horribly dull, but by the end of the day Tegru had expended all his willpower and they found an inconspicuous hole behind a thick wall of brambles. Sparra held her hands together, spawning what seemed to be some sort of eye on spider legs. She sent the thing down there. In less than a minute, it returned. Sparra absorbed it inside herself yet again, nodding as she was flooded with the thing's short memories "They've dug themselves in nice and tight. Nobody's home though. Probably out by now to prepare for a night of hexery" Tegru raised an eyebrow. Hexery? That's a new one.
"We'll return tomorrow. At around noonish"
Tegru nodded in agreement, getting up and dusting himself off. He wasn't one to argue with Sparra. She was in charge and he didn't have a problem with that. Tomorrow at noonish he'll probably be here, Chanting some Story he's yet to determine and burning the witches out, possibly quite literally. There was an Inquisition here in this region at some point, if he remembered one of his history books correctly. Tegru was pretty sure a Story like that would be more than happy to burn out witches. He needed to find one while he was looking for that to work though.
"Let's return to the inn. I can't believe we spent the entire day just to find a hole in the ground"
Yes that was rather frustrating. He could return to his book, though. That was the important bit. Tegru considered writing in the language himself. It left any runes he made rather impossible to alter unless you know exactly what you're doing. It's why Black Script was so popular among mages, those who managed to figure the thing out anyways. They also said that you can put more powerful enchantments on, but Tegru concluded that's simply because very few people understand the language to change another's runes without it failing spectacularly. With small runes it wasn't that much of a problem, but the stronger the runes written, the more dangerous it was. You ran the higher risk of dying because the magic burned you to a crisp or making the thing it was enscribed on explode violently.
Not something you want.
They made their way calmly back to the inn, but something was amiss. Tegru could feel it. He didn't know what exactly, but things felt off. While not always accurate, Tegru trusted his instincts. He tapped at Sparra, looking at corners on either side to indicate he was suspicious "Really? You sure this isn't something you convince yourself about?" Tegru shrugged. He honestly didn't know. He still didn't like it though. "Come on. I think you're just hungry." She waved to barmaid over, a nice sight regardless of anything, and made another order of chicken. Tegru loved chicken. He'd probably calm down if he had some of the stuff in his gut.
They even gave drinks beforehand.
Sadly it was beer. Tegru didn't want any of that.
Sparra drank the stuff like a lady though. Small gulps, silent blenches, and even smooth exhale. She gave him a small smile as the food rolled in. Tegru smiled, grabbing the chicken with his hands and putting it to his mouth.
He put it out of his mouth just as clearly. Sparra gave him an irritated look "Come on. Don't go Paranoid Tegru on me." Tegru did though. Something was off. He didn't know what, but the chicken smelled funny. Like they put a little something extra with the normal spices.
He didn't like it.
He put the thing back, which strangely brought the barmaid "Ye alright dere? Something off about yer food? I can bring some new food if ye'd like" Tegru blinked, shaking his head. He wasn't going to put new food in. Yet, she grabbed his arm. She seemed headstrong about the matter "Listen, cutie. I don't want a customer to leave unsatisfied. So you wanna get another food or do you want some more… physical help?" Sparra gave a giddy laugh.
This was wrong.
Why did her dialect change?
Why did Sparra laugh like that?
The barmaid ran a hand down to his pants, licking her lips.
That's when he saw the ink on her arm.
He shoved the hand forward, pulling the sleeve away. The sight sent chills up his spine. It was Black Script. An entire arm of Black Script stating some nonsense about skills.
This girl had magic.
It was like it happened in slow motion. Tegru looked up to her, the knowing look in his eyes indicating to the barmaid that he knew. She gave a snarl, her teeth elongating and she seemed to wish to pounce.
Tegru never gave her the chance.
"No!" He screamed. The sheer force of his voice coupled with her close proximity sent her flinging across the inn. The few patrons, the innkeeper, even the fucking musicians charged Tegru.
These were all things. Toys. Servants to whatever the fuck wanted him. He didn't have time to think about that.
"Get back!" He screamed, sending the musicians stumbling back. Tegru backed away to the door before sprinting out. He didn't have time to calmly find a story. He was a fucking sheep in a room full of wolves. This wasn't good. This was fucking terrible. A single glance at Sparra confirmed his fears. There was some sort of drug in their food and drink. She couldn't be helped, not in his state. He needed to save her later.
He needed to get out.
As he grabbed the handle, the door flung outwards, showing a large, emaciated female thing. Nine foot tall at least. Naked. It had an almost human face, but warped and stretched and hungry. The glowing crimson eyes glowed with amusement as it reflected on a young man who sprinted from the wolves and ran into the Dragon. This was a fucking horrible chain of events.
"Hello….Chanter."
Fuck.
The last thing Tegru remembered was her hand, impossibly stretched out with long as fuck nails, clamping over his mouth and nose.
*********************
They were good. He'd give them that.
They controlled the inn opposite of their coven's lair. There, they take in lost children and weary travellers. They get the pick of the crème of the crop, apparently letting people stay for one night with good food and good rest for whatever reason they did that. Witches were weird. Probably some strange thing about emotions and how the betrayal of one's trust in the inn helps with the taste. Then, they drag them back to this hole and do whatever they wish to them. Mostly eat. Tegru and Sparra were different cases. They wanted Tegru to sing, and they wanted to take Sparra's Godling powers. Take her strengths and leave her a dying husk.
They were smart though. They had taken the time to enchant a collar with Silence. The black collar choked him just so slightly. Just enough to make him anxious. Just enough to make him sweat and panic for the first ten minutes.
They were careless too. The barmaid from before was his guard. They just had him in one of their rooms. They didn't even bother to have a door. They never needed one with that bitch always watching him. She apparently decided her disguise wasn't necessary. Purple-pink skin, riddled with black script and several other magical languages Tegru didn't even bother to understand. She was apparently some sort of flesh made golem. Horny growths grew out of her head, hair on top of that. It somehow made her grotesquely alluring. Her glowing light green eyes, promising pleasures and sated desires abound, didn't help with Tegru maintaining focus on serious matters.
She was also naked.
The really didn't help.
All in all, she proved too advanced to have been made by these hags. Tegru had seen expertly made magic from the most powerful mages of great Orders.
Tegru also knew that a good deal of those would scratch their head at this golem.
She didn't care though. She was probably built to not care.
A cackle emanated from the den.
"Sister, how goes our plan to drain the Godling?"
"Very well! Very well! The ritual requires special ingredients, however. It is hard to find with our hexes already damaging the city so badly"
Those crazy hags should dare to try to hurt sparra. He'd rip this fucking collar they put on him off with is bare hands and cave this entire place in with his voice. He'd rather suffocate than see Sparra be so used.
The barmaid seemed to have noticed his thoughts. She promptly moved from the entryway and spun her heel around to connect with his jaw, making him land on the floor.
As far as Tegru could tell. She determined his thoughts by facial expression alone. If Sparra wasn't to be devoured, he'd have taken his time incarcerated simply observing the golem. In all of it's pleasing glory.
He got up immediately, holding his chin as he sat back down in his chair, the only thing they actually gave him to rest on besides the hard dirt, and leaned forward. He rested his head in his arms by holding his chin and rested his arms on his thighs. There had to be a way out of this. Tegru just had to notice it.
A caw.
Tegru looked up, quite surprised, to see a crow at his feet. The golem was confused as well. She moved to intercept, but flinched as pain shot through her body. He order was to stand in that exact area and stand guard. She only managed to hit him with her leg when he moved closer to hear the hags.
Tegru gave her a cheeky smile, leaning down to see what the crow wanted. It cawed, pecking at his own leg. No, rather the lashings against his leg. Something put a note over it. Tegru quickly undid the bonds, reading the note carefully
"Have you seen
The great
Half Man Crow
He obeys
Those
loved by crows
He Protects
All
Which they hold
And he Kills
All
That he's told."
Tegru blinked. It was a Story. An actual fucking story. Why the crow would give this was beyond him. He wasn't even capable of speaking, much less chant. It was too short too. It was like the length of a nursery rhyme. Tegru didn't know what he was supposed to do with that
"M'ladies?" The golem started, a look of worry in her eyes when she couldn't read his note. She could read his face, though. Rather well. She could tell he was brewing trouble
"Shut up!"
The order was given. There was no way out of it.
She looked on silently, fearfully as Tegru hid the note in his now filthy robes. The witches were musing about some children they "ate" if you could call it that. Sucking the life force out of someone wasn't eat in Tegru's books. That was vampiric murder. Or maybe parasitic. Tegru didn't have time to argue that.
Maybe. Maybe the way out wasn't around the golem, but through her. He stood up, looking at her with intensity. Specifically the markings she had on her. A long, convoluted enscription that somehow maintains her body. She wasn't a person or even a demon. She was really a golem, yet behaved so organically. Technically she was a flesh golem, but still. The golem fidgeted slightly, but couldn't say a word. Couldn't move away. She could only endure it.
As far as Tegru could see, the bits in Black Script dictated her concepts of skills. Any skills. Everything from cooking to pleasuring. Combat skills as well, like the one move where she did a spin kick on him. He had a sharp thingy with the crow's beak, although he really didn't want to go that far. Tegru figured he could try to damage her runes, make her malfunction. The problem was choosing what. By all accounts, a safer bet would be changing something he could read. The only thing on her glorious body he could read was the Black Script. He could try and reverse her skills. Instead of saying capable, say incapable. He'd need to find the rune for it, though.
After five or so minutes of scrutinizing out of range from her kicks, he had found it. A small little symbol that looked like a turtle. It sat right above her breast on her left side. He just needed to cross it out. An amusingly simple way to say "not" in Black Script.
Now the headache was to get to it. He could psych her out, try and trick her in attacking and moving in through the opening, but he just read her combat skills. She'd figure it out. He needed something truly strange, truly idiotic. Something she would never be able to anticipate.
Like doing a shamanistic dance.
Admittedly, not the best plan. Yet when he started twitching like a snake, utter confusion spread across the golem. She honestly did not know what the hell to do with a prisoner doing strange tribal dancing. Tegru grabbed the resigned crow, swinging him around like a prop. Ideally, he'd be able to cross the line out with a simple cut, and not kill the crow. He held a firm grip on the crow's head and neck. The creature accepting it without any resistance.
Tegru figured it was stranger that he didn't say a word with all of these strange, alien movements.
Then, he pounced.
He had a low squat, a nice way to leap at her.
If he had attacked her, he'd probably have done little to no damage.
Yet, as her palm connected with his chest, the unnatural force stopping his leap dead in his tracks, he managed to make a nice cut through the turtle thing. Tegru fell to the ground, coughing slightly. The poor crow died. It's neck snapped the moment Tegru full to the ground and crushed it's neck with his palm when he braced for the ground. Tegru was honestly disappointed.
It did work though. The golem tried to hit him again, but the punch didn't hurt Tegru. It did snap all of her fingers out of her joints. She hissed in pain, holding it with her other hand before fearfully looking up to Tegru. Tegru gave a small smile, shaking his head. There were a lot of ways you could exploit a girl who could not fight back. Tegru didn't have the time or the thick enough skin for it.
What he did have time for, though, was to rip this fucking collar off and get his voice back. He grabbed both ends and started to yank. A small, sliver of a tear could be heard. It wasn't enough though, not nearly. He needed more of it. He yanks and yanked, the increased leverage helping immensely. Finally, he tore through the thing. He gave a big smile, rummaging through his robe until he found the piece of paper.
Time to see if the force behind the crows showed him favour.
He honestly had no other idea how he'd get out.
Another hit, mildly painful, from the now neutralized golem girl. This was rather interesting. Maybe Tegru disabled more than just her combat abilities. Maybe her strength as well. Tegru knew of twelve year old children who hit harder than how she punched him furiously, desperately.
"Have you seen,
The great,
Half-Man Crow?"
Even with a whisper, the lair walls shook and dust fell from the ceiling. They held though.
The golem staggered back in fear, the witches making very angry noises in the background. They knew he got out. They should be scared. Not the golem girl. Not angry.
The crow he had killed by accident twitched, apparently having offered itself as a vessel before Tegru killed it.
"He obeys,
Those,
Loved by crows"
The golem girl sank to her knees in defeat and horror, unable to unable to fight and thus unable to stop Tegru. The crow was both alive and growing.
And growing. And growing.
The thing stood taller than Tegru. It didn't have hands, but a gruesome mix of wings and hands. Spiked claws at the ends served as fingers. It's pitch black eyes gazed at Tegru, then at the girl. Tegru waved her off. She was no threat. The Half-Man Crow nodded in agreement. It gave a squawk, making the witches give a shrill scream. They were coming. The Half-Man Crow grabbed the golem girl, unceremoniously shifting her several feet to the left. Out of the doorway. The Half-Man Crow flexed his wings, preparing to attack.
"He Protects,
All,
Which they hold
And he Kills,
All,
That he's told."
The witch came in just as Tegru finished his lines. The Half-Man Crow gave her one look, gave Tegru a glance, then simply charged.
The witch was probably a very good user of magic.
A shame the thing slit her throat with one of his claws. It silenced her in a very literal way. As the wound healed, the Half-Man Crow did a pincer strike, slamming it's bony claws into either side of her skull. To add that final bit needed to kill her, the Half-Man Crow started to peck at her face.
And pecked and pecked and pecked.
He pecked until he started pecking her brain
Then he ate her brain.
It was grotesque, disgusting, and infinitely fascinating.
The Half-Man Crow apparently knew how to deal with magic users.
"Sister?! Sister?!" One of the hags screamed "The beast killed our sister!"
Then came the scream.
There wasn't anything else but the scream anymore. Just a mind clawing screech that took Tegru's entire thoughts and strangled them until the screaming was all there was.
Everything went black.
*********************
"Tegru! Tegru!"
Tegru felt his world come into focus once again. Just in time to feel the slap across his face.
He blinked, looking up at Sparra. She was bare breasted, strange, crude looking runes scratched into her form. It took a lot of force of will to direct his eyes upwards.
"Tegru get a hold of yourself, you perverted dolt!" Another slap, unnecessary but undoubtedly satisfying.
Tegru nodded furiously, indicating he was sober
"Good." She sighed in relief, her entire body deflating like a balloon. She blinked, a look of worry spread across her face "Tegru, what happened?"
Tegru blinked, tilting his head up. There was blood everywhere. Literally. It looked like someone decided to paint the lair in blood. It started at the entryway of Tegru's room, went through the main chamber and continued to a far corridor Tegru couldn't see through. From the looks of where he could, though, the blood continued well into the next room. A gambling glance downwards indicated stains of blood from the waist down on Sparra.
Tegru shook his head. He honestly didn't know. He blacked out when that witch let out that scream. He thought the Half-Man Crow also fell, but considering he saw three big corpses in his peripheral and the one behind him he knew of, it didn't seem like the Half-Man Crow went down without doing his job.
Tegru made a writing motion with his hand. He tried to, at least. Apparently his arm was broken at some point. The searing pain and the odd angle was enough to notify him when he glanced down at surprise.
His other arm was also broken. It raised a considerable amount of questions.
Sparra started pulling him on his neck "Come on. Let's get the hell out of here." Tegru hissed in pain and surprise, but got up shakily. It was hard. Pain shot through his arms at every movement. He had to move though, and he found a forward leaning angle that made his arms as still as possible. He just needed to walk slowly. That was the trick when you're wounded and don't want to feel pain. Obviously there were exceptions, but thankfully it wasn't now. Tegru suddenly felt very dizzy. Sparra had to hold on to him, otherwise he would've fallen flat on his ass, though he could land far worse.
"Come on. I think I still have few things I want to get. A proof of death of the witches." She stated, putting Tegru down at a table in the main chamber. They were brewing something foul in the stew pot. Tegru saw tiny skulls in it. He remembered idol gossip about an orphanage closing shop. It was nothing of note, until the tiny skull.
Sparra shambled to the furthest corridor. From Tegru's vantage point, he could discern a mass of black feathers and torn flesh. The Half-Man Crow had his wings torn off in the last moments. Considering he was on top of a limp witch spoke of the final laugh.
Wasn't there three witches, though?
Tegru glanced around. He found the third witch.
Or rather, a mass of nine foot flesh that was a witch until an animal tore through it.
In Tegru's mind's eye, he could picture what happened. The scream left the Half-Man Crow in a state of rage. There was a scuffle with one and the Half-Man Crow tore her to pieces. He then moved to the last one, busy with a spell. Whatever she casted had charred the outer side of the Half-Man Crow's wings. The witch then tore the wings off. The Half-Man Crow had the last laugh, though. Apparently it managed to lunge at her and eat her brain as well.
How he broke his arms was still a mystery, though.
A mystery he was not in the mood of solving.
Sparra came back with three large left ears. Apparently the Half-Man crow didn't bother with proof of existence when he killed the witches.
"Come on, Crow." She stated, though there was a more certain tone in her nickname. Like Tegru had solidified it. She put her shoulder under his own, lifting the silently groaning Tegru. The two dragged eachother forward. Out of the lair. The brambles were all dead. The only real struggle was lifting Tegru, who had no arms, out of the hole. Sparra had enough strength to make a spider creature. It literally tied Tegru to it's back and dragged him out.
Outside, the corpses of the Inn People were scattered about. Apparently they were some sort of thralls. When the witches died, all of witches, they did as well. They were well on their way to their mistresses' aid though. A good thing they were still human.
Tegru was missing something. He knew it. He just didn't know what.
The pair carried each other through the city, not bothering to look at the gawking onlookers. A bare breasted women with magical runes carved into her flesh, along with her Godling heritage, made her look like quite the witch herself. Thankfully there was no group of people. The single stragglers just ran.
They went to the town hall and Sparra literally kicked the door in.
"Hey! I finished the fucking mission! Where's your mayor! I need healers and I need my money!"
Sparra, Sparra, Sparra. Always so crass. Always so impulsive.
Clerks scattered about and the mayor stumbled in, looking away when he saw her attire "Miss! Please! Some clothes!"
She lunged at the Mayor, Tegru hampering her from actually grabbing the man. Pain shot through his being as she screamed "Then fucking get me some! And a healer!" Tegru laughed slightly as Sparra eased him into a chair "It's going to be alright, Crow." She stated, looking at a women who scrambled to her with a blanket
"It's going to be alright"
*********************
"Crow, where's your head at?"
Tegru blinked, looking up at Sparra. She should know by now that he goes into his head if he doesn't have a book for such a long journey.
They were in a caravan, heading East.
After the witches in the city, they were given indefinite leave until Tegru's arms could heal. The arms in question were broken to an astonishing degree. It was like someone stomped his elbows into powder. It took, with sponsored healing magic from a rather good mage, two months to heal fully and regain his use of his arms after so long without it.
Now the Order was sending them East. To combat some sort of Eastern horror that ventured too far West. The caravan was already payed for. They just needed to stay on the road for two or so months to actually get there. Not the quick way, but a caravan offers a safe way.
Sadly, he ran out of books. The request to entertain the guests at the nightly gatherings with his chanting was also denied. The most amusing thing he did for the past week was fix a cart wheel. Not even the crows kept him company. Not with this many people in constant proximity to him. He literally whittled his days away in their thankfully comfortable wagon. All the wagons had a rune of fortune on them. All written in Black Script. The language flowed like water if you knew what you were doing.
Sparra was well off, though. She naturally took to the life on the road. She took the lead of the night watch quite effectively. Her creatures patrolled the outer reaches of the caravan, serving more as scouts rather than true soldiers. It didn't stop them from smoking out and killing several small bandit groups. Those were too small to cause a real threat to the caravan, though. It was why they got hooked up with the thing in the first place. It significantly lowered variables the Order had to consider.
A shame they were horrible cooks. Tegru and Sparra never make good food. Tegru simply throwing everything that was considered a herb or spice into his meals and Sparra doing the same. The meals were nice, but both of them missed food made by someone who actually knew what they were doing.
People thankfully left him alone. Nobody really wanted to talk to a mute and the mute in question didn't really want to talk to them. All of these people were of lower intelligence. Listening to them talk only infuriated Tegru. The most prime example in Tegru's memory was a man spouting some nonsense about using dried dung as a blood staunching agent. Everyone around him actually nodded to that horrible logic.
If only there were more Sparras around.
"Hey Crow. I'm going to head to the front of the caravan. I want to know where we'll make camp." Tegru gave a nod as Sparra leaped off their wagon, jogging forward until she reached the front. A long way to jog, considering there were thirty caravans and theirs, since they joined last, were at the furthest back.
Tegru gave a lazy sigh, scooting back into his bed. He was honestly surprised when he had gotten used to the rickety motions of the wagon. Now though, with his head nestled against his used in pillow, he was well and truly glad for it. He drifted off to a nice little nap.
Up until someone tapped him on his shoulder. Hard.
Tegru groaned, figuring it was Sparra. When he looked up, he found a pink/purple skinned girl, thankfully dressed this time in some farmhand dress, with glowing light green eyes. Those eyes looked incredibly amused as Tegru made a squeak, sitting up and crawling against the waggon wall.
"Miss me?"
What should he do, what should he do, what should he do? He gained a stoic look, preparing to scream and most likely destroy their wagon by taking a deep breath.
She stopped any such ideas by leaping at him and kissing him.
Tegru honestly didn't know how the fuck to handle this. Where would he even begin? Her tong was fucking around in his mouth like it was her fucking plaything. He literally did a small flail, but she pinned him against his own bed, her strength apparently back. He had to admit though. It felt fantastic.
She pulled away, a line of saliva connecting the golem with the absolutely dumbstruck Tegru. She gave him a small smile "That was a thank you. For not killing me back then." Her voice had a new tone on it. Smooth as honey and deceptively innocent "That was also my sales pitch."
What the fuck?
She burst in laughter at his expression of surprise "Oh don't be like that. It makes a girl doubt her womanly charms~"
That wasn't the fucking point!
Tegru stood up as she climbed off of him, sitting on Sparra's bed to look him in the eyes. Tegru never did that. He had realised long ago that he never looked someone in the eye. He looked at their face. It was both easier and it was something he learned before he even developed uneasiness to look into someone's eyes.
"So, I'll explain things since you were passed out and Lady Green Hair was still out of it due to their brews making her loopy. After the second witch screamed, she repaired my Black Script at a distance with magic." She pulled the farmhand dress she had lower, revealing the marking, unscratched, on her upper chest. "I was then instructed to kill you" Her face hardened into a grimace "Thankfully she didn't tell me how long it had to be. So I figured I'd kill you slow, give your Crow-Thing some time to kill them."
Tegru furrowed his eyebrows. Then they shot wide. She was the one who broke his arms.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" She pleaded, noticing he had discovered that fact "I had to! It was either that or kill you quick! The witches were too busy with your friend to care that I wasn't doing it quick enough. It worked out in the end though! You're alive"
She made a good point. He'd probably be dead if she didn't decide to "Kill him slowly" He frowned, looking at her before giving her a nod. He believed her. She couldn't save him because the compulsion of the orders was too much. She could only kill him slowly and mean it.
She sighed in relief, giving him a grateful smile "Good. That's good. Because since my former owners are dead, killed by a thing you summoned, you own me now."
He gasped so hard that he started to choke on his own spittle.
"Well who else would own me?" She retorted, looking offended as he coughed to clean his throat out. He looked at her with bewilderment. She gave a small sigh "Look," her skin turned pale white, raising an eyebrow at him as the bony growths at the top of her head vanish, letting her hair fall on her scalp like a normal person's "I can act normal, see? I'll just tell everyone I'm your servant by choice. I finally tracked you down and it was a way to repay my debt to you"
He frowned, raising his hand
"I know I already saved your life, but we need a story, right?"
We. Like Tegru was already in on this.
"I also don't care whether you want me or not. I'm staying." She frowned, folding her arms "Now can I cook you a meal or are you going to sleep?"
Wait. Cooking meals?
He remembered something about her meals being good.
The girl was apparently also very gifted in reading someone's face "I can make that chicken you so loved…"
Done. Deal. If she wanted him dead, he would already have been. Tegru wanted his chicken.
Then, as if appearing by magic, a sharp point of a long, thin length of wood rested at the golem girl's throat. Sparra looked absolutely furious as she pushed the sharp end of some sort of bamboo at her throat "Who the fuck are you?" She hissed, spittle flying out as she hanged on the outside of their wagon.
Tegru instinctively moved in, pushing the girl away from the spear and giving Sparra a serious look. She was friendly, although understandably unexpected. The girl in question gave a small laugh "You can call me Azerith. I'm Tegru's new servant girl."
That cruel women.
Sparra glared fire into Tegru's eyes "Oh really? When did this arrangement happen." The tone implied that an answer better be given. Now. Tegru tried to gesture with his hands, but Azerith was too fast.
"Just now. He just picked me up here and made me his. Wrote it all in some fancy lettering. Wanna see?" Azerith innocently pushed her servant's dress down to give Sparra a full view of Black Script.
Gods have mercy.
The spear thing Sparra had made smacked him square on the head. He clenched his teeth and rubbed the top of his head to instinctively get rid of the pain
"Explain. Now"
Azerith gave an innocent look "There's nothing to explain. I simply decided to be his servant."
Well that's a blatant half truth if he's ever seen one. His lips curled back in thought before he nodded in agreement. Sparra raised an eyebrow, not sold yet "Really?"
Azerith chirped in, a gesture Tegru would soon learn to fear "Really! You saved me from witches. They drugged me with the food and I was left to wake up an hour later to find all of them dead. I only figured out it was because of you two months later! You were already gone for almost a week when I started looking!" She scooted forward and put a protective arm around Tegru "Please m'Lady! Have mercy!"
Sparra glared at Azerith. Slowly, she lowered her spear and dropped it to the side.
"You cook?"
Azerith smiled brightly and nodded furiously
"Make us something tonight. You make good food, you stay."
Azerith squeezed Tegru in joy, smiling brightly
"Of course, m'Lady!"
He didn't know why people would actively choose to run the risk of being stabbed, robbed, raped and your corpse desecrated all in the span of a single day. He enjoyed people, sure, as the higher concentration of people led to a higher probability for Stories to form. Yet a city holds so many dangers. Tegru simply didn't have the time or the willpower to defend against them on a daily basis. A large town was maybe the largest Tegru would prefer to be in. Or maybe a town built in the ruins of a once great city. Oh he'd like that. Simply just exploring with Sparra and f-
What was he thinking about? He had a legitimate job to do.
He blinked and looked around in the cramped carriage. He locked eyes with an amused looking Sparra "Daydreaming are we, Crow?" Tegru gave a tight lipped expression, lowering his head in embarrassment. He glanced outside their armoured carriage. There was a group of beggars following their carriage in the hopes of a donation. Sadly Tegru didn't have any money left on his person. The one at the back, the girl with a child in her arms, looked genuine enough to convince him that she wouldn't outright use the money on drugs and booze. Still though, it's for the best. She could have wasted it on herself rather than the child…. Maybe.
He gave a lingering look as the women begged incomprehensibly, stretching her hand out with tears in her eyes. She couldn't keep up with a carriage though, and fell into a pitiful mess.
He forced himself to look the other way, she could be false. She was probably false. Tegru just had to look away and he would believe that. He just needed to look away.
Turning his head made him meet some half dead hospital. The building itself looked like it was dying along with the people inside it. Some weren't even inside. They spilled out of the door in stretchers built so badly, Tegru was pretty sure he could build better ones. What with his flimsy arms and uncalloused fingers, he figured he could build something that would last at least a week. Those things looked like they wouldn't even last the hour.
What in the Gods' name happened here?
Tegru could see Sparra was asking the same thing. Her hair pulsed green light as the two braided tails swished nervously. A nervous tick Tegru noted about her. She always stopped when she saw he was looking at her, though. When her glowing red eyes locked with his own brown ones, it was no exception "Hey Crow. The people here…. They're superstitious to say the least. Especially now with the vampire problems they asked us to get rid of." Tegru gave her a questioning look
"Listen, Kid" She started, using Kid to let Tegru know that the matter was both extremely serious and her Godling lifespan has given her intimate wisdom about the matter "Don't do anything unnatural. At all. No random bouts of Chanting" Tegru frowned "No inscribing healing runes all over the fucking place" Tegru blinked "And don't, and I mean this one, interact with crows. They'll have you on a stake for being a warlock faster than you could say 'Abracadabra' "
"Who said that?!" Some idiot outside their carriage yelled, looking around with that certain manic murder in his eyes. Tegru wanted to shout him against the wall on instinct, but calmed down quickly enough. These people were superstitious. The pair remained in odd silence until they were more than sure they passed earshot "See what I mean? If anyone asks, you're a mute. You're no magic user. If anything, do that thing you do where you furrow your brows and give that 'What are you talking about?' look you do."
He gave her a curious look. What was she talking about?
"See? That."
Tegru blinked and held back a laugh, Sparra giving a lopsided smile.
The carriage dropped to Tegru's left, then jerked back up unceremoniously.
Before anything, these guys need to fix the roads.
Tegru liked to travel as much as they did, but he'd rather not be here. Where he couldn't even write in runes due to their rhabdophobic nonsense. Honestly why couldn't he help people? Because they're scared of little glowy scratches in wood? He couldn't let something like that go. He wanted to help these people. Make them see reason. He literally had more luck that one time when they worked with Orcs. Those things see magic as weakness. Tegru was still convinced they took that job because Sparra lost a dare. He just never had the opportunity to ask her about it in a way that wouldn't piss her off. Not like he could even ask it verbally to begin with.
The carriage jerked to a halt, leaving Tegru to stop the inertia with his head by bashing it against the back wall. It didn't hurt, but there was certainly plenty force behind it. He was mildly surprised it didn't hurt though. He thought it would. From the looks of Sparra wincing, she did too. He gave her a small wave off to show he was fine, and opened the door to his right side, as always, to get out. Sparra opened the left. While she landed on a dry, albeit poorly made, sidewalk, Tegru landed an entire foot of his sandal in the unknown horror of a strangely coloured puddle.
Ffffuuuuuuuuck.
A look of disgust came over him as he started hopping on one foot and twitched his tainted one to get rid of the water still attached. He suppressed a shudder, a scowl forming on his now soured face. He walked with a slight limp as he didn't like the feeling of his socks pressing that cold gunk against his feet, but he couldn't limp. These idiots would probably start thinking him a leper or some other sort of stupid magic fearing shit like that.
Sparra gave him a pointed look, shaking her head. She of course dressed to fit in: A nice trench coat, big collared with a wide brimmed hat, and a pair of sturdy boots to go with her leather leggings. Tegru wore what he always wore: A robe of some sort and sandals. He wasn't in the mood for waddling around in something with so much tight fitting cloth, though it certainly agreed with Sparra. Then again, everything agreed with her. A thing Tegru simply did not understand.
The important people were waiting at the door of some building, as always. This time it was a mayor. The fat kind. Honestly it reminded Tegru of his father's fat but… rounder. Instead of finding every nook and making everything round except the back, this particular breed of fat made the man look like an oversized clayman small children were supposed to play with. Or maybe a fresh loaf of bread. Perfectly made to have a smooth, round form
"I suppose you are the anti-witches?" The mayor ask, his moist hands rubbing together nervously. Gods, please don't let him shake those things. Who the fuck even knows what he's done with them. Tegru wanted to eat now. Not rush to the nearest basin to get whatever sticky stuff. No. Just please no.
Sparra shook it without even flinching. Braver than him.
"We're not…" she began, but looked harder at the mayor. Apparently, gathering from Sparra's more cautious tone when she spoke again, the Mayor wanted to pass our magic off as "Antimagic". Dumb sod probably didn't even know what that was to begin with "Ya. We're the Anti-Witches. You called us for a… Vampire problem?"
The mayor blinked "That was settled a week ago." Tegru snorted. Of course it was. Did some other problem pop up in between and they thought himself and Sparra was sent to fix that? "We have a new problem. A coven of witches settled into our fine town!"
Sometimes he hated it when he was right.
Also Fine Town? Seriously? Did he see the same town Tegru drove through on a steel carriage? With the beggars and the with-child women and the hospital that looks like it belonged in a fucking ruin? That city? Then again if they had the horrible infrastructure damage that follows with witches, it'd be unsurprising.
Tegru sighed
Once. For Once he'd like to be angry without arguing himself out of having right to it. Yet Tegru found that he always logically argued his right to hold a grudge away. It frustrated him even more than the actual thing he was mad at, because then he had nothing to point the anger to. It was like not allowing a fire to give off heat.
Wait they were still talking.
He repeated to sounds he heard when he was contemplating: Something about details of payment, exact sums and things like that.
Tegru let his mind wander again, he wasn't part of any of that to begin with. He turned his head to view what used to be a public park. Everything was dead now, but it gave the park a pretty feel to it. Pretty through chilling atmosphere. A crow cawed to get Tegru's attention. It held out it's left wing, then the right. A small greeting they always do when they wish to show him something interesting. He glanced back to Sparra, then returned the gaze of the crow with a frown. He shook his head, indicating that he didn't want to see the crow's surprise. The crow in question looked at him with it's head tilted to the side, like it didn't understand that Tegru just did that. Tegru replied by tilting his head to the townsfolk, making a motion of a townsmen with a pitchfork.
The crow flew away.
Tegru returned his focus just as Sparra, probably in some feat of great will, shook that mayor's slimy hand yet again and still managed to smile. Tegru still had to hold back a shudder at the thought of it.
Payment was apparently sorted. Now they had to fix the town's problems. First they'd need to find the witches' lair. From there they could ambush them while inside (For whatever reason witches rarely have more than one entryway/exit in their lairs. Probably to make it easily defendable but yet it was always their downfall with Tegru) Tegru didn't think that the case would take longer than a week, if at all. He should probably start looking for a Story though. A city like this, with the way it's broken down, would probably have a few new ones. He'd either choose one of those or a particularly ancient one. One long since forgotten. Sadly Tegru could only tell so many Stories, yet so many more were still Untold. It saddened him when he thought about it, so he didn't like to think about it too much.
He wasn't at the point where he needed to worry about that though. He was hungry. That was where his worries should be. He gave Sparra a pointed look, miming putting food in his mouth. Sparra nodded "Ya me too. Come on, it's late. Let's find a decent looking inn and sleep there for the night." He gave her another pointed look. He made the eating motion again and gave a small thumbs up, raising an eyebrow to indicate a question. "Yes, Crow. One with good food." Tegru nodded, satisfied. He let her lead the way. They inns they passed were filled with grabby drunks. You could see the type a mile off. Neither of them were in the mood to deal with those imbeciles.
After a while, the setting sun went to twilight. They eventually found a relatively calm place by the name of The Lonely Barfly. Amusingly enough it didn't have barflies, literal and figurative. It's for the best though. For some reason they kept jumping Tegru. Like they actually expected him to know how to handle things like that. Admittedly he had a strong, handsome face and nice green eyes, but you're supposed to tell if someone has no experience with matters like that. Or maybe they were just too drunk whenever they met him? No, someone had to be sober when they jumped him. It happened enough times for it to be impossible otherwise.
Women.
Tegru opened the door for Sparra on habit, walking in and quickly taking a seat at the table. The music from the idle musicians sounded reasonably pleasant for uninterested ears. The barmaid, rather pleasingly dressed, leaned over the table, using her arms as struts "What can I getcha?" Sparra spoke up before Tegru tried gesturing "Roast chicken and fresh loaves of bread. For both of us. And bring the grease you cooked it in with." Tegru felt his hunger growing at the thought of the stuff. Oh that'd taste so good. He gave Sparra a smile, nodding his head in thanks as he decided to conclude the day after the meal.
*********************
The next morning, Tegru started the day by washing himself. He had a nice big wash tub and Sparra was still sleeping in her room, otherwise she would have woken him. He was apparently supposed to heat the water up with the fireplace under the tub, but a few heat runes scrawled on the sides of the tub with charcoal did the exact same thing. He made a mental note, and thankfully remembered, to wash the runes out before anyone could see them. That was a headache he didn't want to face here. Especially after Sparra told him not to scrawl runes all over the place. This was different though. He could just erase them after.
Tegru sat back down in his bed, digging his book out of his luggage bags they had carried back and started reading through his tome. An interesting little thing explaining some absolute drivel about the supposed origins of magic. As far as Tegru could tell, the book did a terrible job of saying nothing in particular, pointing to very vague sources and making absolute truths of them, making baseless assumptions on that as well. According to the book, an ancient God by the name Garovesh made all types of magic and promptly killed himself because…..reasons. Done. End of theory.
The only thing Tegru could accept as intelligent was the author's excellent use of Black Script. The language had countless rules of grammar and the sentence structuring literally changes depending on the mood of the sentence, the nature of the topic itself, the age and gender of the person writing it and all the other qualms of time and tone of normal sentence structuring. Honestly it was a masterpiece behold and a horror to learn. The man made mistakes, undoubtable in it's consistency as he seemed to have jumbled his happy and negative tones. Based on the book it seemed the man was around sixty when he wrote it. He was also male, even though he jumbled into female grammar every now and then. He was also someone who enjoyed talking about cultures a lot.
Sparra came bursting through the door, scaring the shit out of Tegru. She never fucking knocked did she? Holy shit, just once he'd like her to knock. One of these days he's going to scream a fucking hole into the wall and it'd be her fault. Not his. It's not his fault his voice had a pack of bulls worth of kick.
Tegru took a deep sigh as Sparra laughed at his jolted flailing "I see you're awake. Didn't eat breakfast though." Tegru shook his head "Too far?" A nod, drawing out a smile from Sparra "Come on. Let's get that sorted." Tegru groaned, stashing his book in his luggage bag before getting breakfast. Something he didn't regret, surprisingly. Very well seasoned eggs with boiled vegetables. Clean boiled, the juices of the vegetables made a good enough taste as is. The chef really knew what he was doing. It was surprising that the place wasn't more populated. With cooking like this, the chef could be in the King's Court in the matter of months if he thought he could achieve it. He wouldn't think so though, Tegru knew it. You either had the ambition or you didn't. Telling a man that would have no effect unless you left a resounding impression. A mute boy that looked like a noble's bastard didn't leave enough of it.
"We're going to walk the streets, find information vendors" Sparra stated "Find the most likely place for witches to hide out." Tegru gave a nod, moving back rather dramatically to show Sparra the barmaid was coming to pick up their plates "You two enjoying ye're stay here?" Tegru nodded, patting his stomach with satisfaction. Sparra nodded as well "It's got good food, alright. Who's your chef?" The barmaid put up a show of modesty "Oh I don't think I cook that well"
Well it'd explain why she isn't a king's cook. Tegru didn't know why, but that was always a male role. Even if most men eat women's food. Tegru always found it amusing how they always placed roles on everything. Even written language wasn't spared of that, as evidence by Black Script.
"Oh you do." Sparra stated, then shut off as the girl did another false modesty. All she really wanted was more praise. A lot of people do that, the fake modesty. Either as etiquette or, in her case, because it entices people to try and convince you. He'd bite. She gave him good food and he'll make her feel good for it.
He nodded furiously, eyes wide with intensity. He patted his belly with a satisfied smile. It brought out a rather cute giggle. She gave him an… amused smile. That wasn't supposed to be in her character. "Ye mute, den?"
Tegru nodded, it was easier to say that than to say your voice had the power to break down a door due to how powerful you were at Chanting.
"Ahh'see. Y'make sounds 'r are yer voice gone?" Tegru made a humming noise. He didn't like where the conversation was going. Sparra noticed too and tried to redirect it "Listen. We're here on official business. Would you mind telling me any rumours you heard about these witches?"
Too blunt. Changed the topic though. Sadly it made the entire room fall silent. Even the musicians Tegru didn't even notice until they stopped playing. Must be such a common thing in inns you simply ignore it as background noise. The barmaid gave a tight lipped smile "Ye sure ye wanna ask dat?" Sparra noticed the tension, but pushed on "Yes. Yes I do." The barmaid sighed "Dey say dem witches are holed up in the park. 'S why nobody goes dere anymore."
Tegru blinked. The crow from yesterday. It just motioned him where the witches were. Tegru leaned forward and grabbed Sparra's shoulder. He nodded furiously, showing that he had it on good belief the lair was there. Sparra sighed "Thank you. That'll be all." The barmaid quickly made her way with the plates, far more interested in leaving rather than charging for the meals.
Tegru got up, dusting himself off. He gestured his head to the door. Sparra nodded "You're right. Best we get searching. The sooner we do this, the sooner we get payed." Tegru nodded, opening the door for her and walking around to look for the park. Surprisingly enough, it was just a street or so from the inn. It could be why they had such terrible amount of customers. It could also be why everyone at the inn was so tense about it. Probably feared that uttering the word "witch" would bring them forth and make everyone's day that less pleasant.
The search was horribly dull, but by the end of the day Tegru had expended all his willpower and they found an inconspicuous hole behind a thick wall of brambles. Sparra held her hands together, spawning what seemed to be some sort of eye on spider legs. She sent the thing down there. In less than a minute, it returned. Sparra absorbed it inside herself yet again, nodding as she was flooded with the thing's short memories "They've dug themselves in nice and tight. Nobody's home though. Probably out by now to prepare for a night of hexery" Tegru raised an eyebrow. Hexery? That's a new one.
"We'll return tomorrow. At around noonish"
Tegru nodded in agreement, getting up and dusting himself off. He wasn't one to argue with Sparra. She was in charge and he didn't have a problem with that. Tomorrow at noonish he'll probably be here, Chanting some Story he's yet to determine and burning the witches out, possibly quite literally. There was an Inquisition here in this region at some point, if he remembered one of his history books correctly. Tegru was pretty sure a Story like that would be more than happy to burn out witches. He needed to find one while he was looking for that to work though.
"Let's return to the inn. I can't believe we spent the entire day just to find a hole in the ground"
Yes that was rather frustrating. He could return to his book, though. That was the important bit. Tegru considered writing in the language himself. It left any runes he made rather impossible to alter unless you know exactly what you're doing. It's why Black Script was so popular among mages, those who managed to figure the thing out anyways. They also said that you can put more powerful enchantments on, but Tegru concluded that's simply because very few people understand the language to change another's runes without it failing spectacularly. With small runes it wasn't that much of a problem, but the stronger the runes written, the more dangerous it was. You ran the higher risk of dying because the magic burned you to a crisp or making the thing it was enscribed on explode violently.
Not something you want.
They made their way calmly back to the inn, but something was amiss. Tegru could feel it. He didn't know what exactly, but things felt off. While not always accurate, Tegru trusted his instincts. He tapped at Sparra, looking at corners on either side to indicate he was suspicious "Really? You sure this isn't something you convince yourself about?" Tegru shrugged. He honestly didn't know. He still didn't like it though. "Come on. I think you're just hungry." She waved to barmaid over, a nice sight regardless of anything, and made another order of chicken. Tegru loved chicken. He'd probably calm down if he had some of the stuff in his gut.
They even gave drinks beforehand.
Sadly it was beer. Tegru didn't want any of that.
Sparra drank the stuff like a lady though. Small gulps, silent blenches, and even smooth exhale. She gave him a small smile as the food rolled in. Tegru smiled, grabbing the chicken with his hands and putting it to his mouth.
He put it out of his mouth just as clearly. Sparra gave him an irritated look "Come on. Don't go Paranoid Tegru on me." Tegru did though. Something was off. He didn't know what, but the chicken smelled funny. Like they put a little something extra with the normal spices.
He didn't like it.
He put the thing back, which strangely brought the barmaid "Ye alright dere? Something off about yer food? I can bring some new food if ye'd like" Tegru blinked, shaking his head. He wasn't going to put new food in. Yet, she grabbed his arm. She seemed headstrong about the matter "Listen, cutie. I don't want a customer to leave unsatisfied. So you wanna get another food or do you want some more… physical help?" Sparra gave a giddy laugh.
This was wrong.
Why did her dialect change?
Why did Sparra laugh like that?
The barmaid ran a hand down to his pants, licking her lips.
That's when he saw the ink on her arm.
He shoved the hand forward, pulling the sleeve away. The sight sent chills up his spine. It was Black Script. An entire arm of Black Script stating some nonsense about skills.
This girl had magic.
It was like it happened in slow motion. Tegru looked up to her, the knowing look in his eyes indicating to the barmaid that he knew. She gave a snarl, her teeth elongating and she seemed to wish to pounce.
Tegru never gave her the chance.
"No!" He screamed. The sheer force of his voice coupled with her close proximity sent her flinging across the inn. The few patrons, the innkeeper, even the fucking musicians charged Tegru.
These were all things. Toys. Servants to whatever the fuck wanted him. He didn't have time to think about that.
"Get back!" He screamed, sending the musicians stumbling back. Tegru backed away to the door before sprinting out. He didn't have time to calmly find a story. He was a fucking sheep in a room full of wolves. This wasn't good. This was fucking terrible. A single glance at Sparra confirmed his fears. There was some sort of drug in their food and drink. She couldn't be helped, not in his state. He needed to save her later.
He needed to get out.
As he grabbed the handle, the door flung outwards, showing a large, emaciated female thing. Nine foot tall at least. Naked. It had an almost human face, but warped and stretched and hungry. The glowing crimson eyes glowed with amusement as it reflected on a young man who sprinted from the wolves and ran into the Dragon. This was a fucking horrible chain of events.
"Hello….Chanter."
Fuck.
The last thing Tegru remembered was her hand, impossibly stretched out with long as fuck nails, clamping over his mouth and nose.
*********************
They were good. He'd give them that.
They controlled the inn opposite of their coven's lair. There, they take in lost children and weary travellers. They get the pick of the crème of the crop, apparently letting people stay for one night with good food and good rest for whatever reason they did that. Witches were weird. Probably some strange thing about emotions and how the betrayal of one's trust in the inn helps with the taste. Then, they drag them back to this hole and do whatever they wish to them. Mostly eat. Tegru and Sparra were different cases. They wanted Tegru to sing, and they wanted to take Sparra's Godling powers. Take her strengths and leave her a dying husk.
They were smart though. They had taken the time to enchant a collar with Silence. The black collar choked him just so slightly. Just enough to make him anxious. Just enough to make him sweat and panic for the first ten minutes.
They were careless too. The barmaid from before was his guard. They just had him in one of their rooms. They didn't even bother to have a door. They never needed one with that bitch always watching him. She apparently decided her disguise wasn't necessary. Purple-pink skin, riddled with black script and several other magical languages Tegru didn't even bother to understand. She was apparently some sort of flesh made golem. Horny growths grew out of her head, hair on top of that. It somehow made her grotesquely alluring. Her glowing light green eyes, promising pleasures and sated desires abound, didn't help with Tegru maintaining focus on serious matters.
She was also naked.
The really didn't help.
All in all, she proved too advanced to have been made by these hags. Tegru had seen expertly made magic from the most powerful mages of great Orders.
Tegru also knew that a good deal of those would scratch their head at this golem.
She didn't care though. She was probably built to not care.
A cackle emanated from the den.
"Sister, how goes our plan to drain the Godling?"
"Very well! Very well! The ritual requires special ingredients, however. It is hard to find with our hexes already damaging the city so badly"
Those crazy hags should dare to try to hurt sparra. He'd rip this fucking collar they put on him off with is bare hands and cave this entire place in with his voice. He'd rather suffocate than see Sparra be so used.
The barmaid seemed to have noticed his thoughts. She promptly moved from the entryway and spun her heel around to connect with his jaw, making him land on the floor.
As far as Tegru could tell. She determined his thoughts by facial expression alone. If Sparra wasn't to be devoured, he'd have taken his time incarcerated simply observing the golem. In all of it's pleasing glory.
He got up immediately, holding his chin as he sat back down in his chair, the only thing they actually gave him to rest on besides the hard dirt, and leaned forward. He rested his head in his arms by holding his chin and rested his arms on his thighs. There had to be a way out of this. Tegru just had to notice it.
A caw.
Tegru looked up, quite surprised, to see a crow at his feet. The golem was confused as well. She moved to intercept, but flinched as pain shot through her body. He order was to stand in that exact area and stand guard. She only managed to hit him with her leg when he moved closer to hear the hags.
Tegru gave her a cheeky smile, leaning down to see what the crow wanted. It cawed, pecking at his own leg. No, rather the lashings against his leg. Something put a note over it. Tegru quickly undid the bonds, reading the note carefully
"Have you seen
The great
Half Man Crow
He obeys
Those
loved by crows
He Protects
All
Which they hold
And he Kills
All
That he's told."
Tegru blinked. It was a Story. An actual fucking story. Why the crow would give this was beyond him. He wasn't even capable of speaking, much less chant. It was too short too. It was like the length of a nursery rhyme. Tegru didn't know what he was supposed to do with that
"M'ladies?" The golem started, a look of worry in her eyes when she couldn't read his note. She could read his face, though. Rather well. She could tell he was brewing trouble
"Shut up!"
The order was given. There was no way out of it.
She looked on silently, fearfully as Tegru hid the note in his now filthy robes. The witches were musing about some children they "ate" if you could call it that. Sucking the life force out of someone wasn't eat in Tegru's books. That was vampiric murder. Or maybe parasitic. Tegru didn't have time to argue that.
Maybe. Maybe the way out wasn't around the golem, but through her. He stood up, looking at her with intensity. Specifically the markings she had on her. A long, convoluted enscription that somehow maintains her body. She wasn't a person or even a demon. She was really a golem, yet behaved so organically. Technically she was a flesh golem, but still. The golem fidgeted slightly, but couldn't say a word. Couldn't move away. She could only endure it.
As far as Tegru could see, the bits in Black Script dictated her concepts of skills. Any skills. Everything from cooking to pleasuring. Combat skills as well, like the one move where she did a spin kick on him. He had a sharp thingy with the crow's beak, although he really didn't want to go that far. Tegru figured he could try to damage her runes, make her malfunction. The problem was choosing what. By all accounts, a safer bet would be changing something he could read. The only thing on her glorious body he could read was the Black Script. He could try and reverse her skills. Instead of saying capable, say incapable. He'd need to find the rune for it, though.
After five or so minutes of scrutinizing out of range from her kicks, he had found it. A small little symbol that looked like a turtle. It sat right above her breast on her left side. He just needed to cross it out. An amusingly simple way to say "not" in Black Script.
Now the headache was to get to it. He could psych her out, try and trick her in attacking and moving in through the opening, but he just read her combat skills. She'd figure it out. He needed something truly strange, truly idiotic. Something she would never be able to anticipate.
Like doing a shamanistic dance.
Admittedly, not the best plan. Yet when he started twitching like a snake, utter confusion spread across the golem. She honestly did not know what the hell to do with a prisoner doing strange tribal dancing. Tegru grabbed the resigned crow, swinging him around like a prop. Ideally, he'd be able to cross the line out with a simple cut, and not kill the crow. He held a firm grip on the crow's head and neck. The creature accepting it without any resistance.
Tegru figured it was stranger that he didn't say a word with all of these strange, alien movements.
Then, he pounced.
He had a low squat, a nice way to leap at her.
If he had attacked her, he'd probably have done little to no damage.
Yet, as her palm connected with his chest, the unnatural force stopping his leap dead in his tracks, he managed to make a nice cut through the turtle thing. Tegru fell to the ground, coughing slightly. The poor crow died. It's neck snapped the moment Tegru full to the ground and crushed it's neck with his palm when he braced for the ground. Tegru was honestly disappointed.
It did work though. The golem tried to hit him again, but the punch didn't hurt Tegru. It did snap all of her fingers out of her joints. She hissed in pain, holding it with her other hand before fearfully looking up to Tegru. Tegru gave a small smile, shaking his head. There were a lot of ways you could exploit a girl who could not fight back. Tegru didn't have the time or the thick enough skin for it.
What he did have time for, though, was to rip this fucking collar off and get his voice back. He grabbed both ends and started to yank. A small, sliver of a tear could be heard. It wasn't enough though, not nearly. He needed more of it. He yanks and yanked, the increased leverage helping immensely. Finally, he tore through the thing. He gave a big smile, rummaging through his robe until he found the piece of paper.
Time to see if the force behind the crows showed him favour.
He honestly had no other idea how he'd get out.
Another hit, mildly painful, from the now neutralized golem girl. This was rather interesting. Maybe Tegru disabled more than just her combat abilities. Maybe her strength as well. Tegru knew of twelve year old children who hit harder than how she punched him furiously, desperately.
"Have you seen,
The great,
Half-Man Crow?"
Even with a whisper, the lair walls shook and dust fell from the ceiling. They held though.
The golem staggered back in fear, the witches making very angry noises in the background. They knew he got out. They should be scared. Not the golem girl. Not angry.
The crow he had killed by accident twitched, apparently having offered itself as a vessel before Tegru killed it.
"He obeys,
Those,
Loved by crows"
The golem girl sank to her knees in defeat and horror, unable to unable to fight and thus unable to stop Tegru. The crow was both alive and growing.
And growing. And growing.
The thing stood taller than Tegru. It didn't have hands, but a gruesome mix of wings and hands. Spiked claws at the ends served as fingers. It's pitch black eyes gazed at Tegru, then at the girl. Tegru waved her off. She was no threat. The Half-Man Crow nodded in agreement. It gave a squawk, making the witches give a shrill scream. They were coming. The Half-Man Crow grabbed the golem girl, unceremoniously shifting her several feet to the left. Out of the doorway. The Half-Man Crow flexed his wings, preparing to attack.
"He Protects,
All,
Which they hold
And he Kills,
All,
That he's told."
The witch came in just as Tegru finished his lines. The Half-Man Crow gave her one look, gave Tegru a glance, then simply charged.
The witch was probably a very good user of magic.
A shame the thing slit her throat with one of his claws. It silenced her in a very literal way. As the wound healed, the Half-Man Crow did a pincer strike, slamming it's bony claws into either side of her skull. To add that final bit needed to kill her, the Half-Man Crow started to peck at her face.
And pecked and pecked and pecked.
He pecked until he started pecking her brain
Then he ate her brain.
It was grotesque, disgusting, and infinitely fascinating.
The Half-Man Crow apparently knew how to deal with magic users.
"Sister?! Sister?!" One of the hags screamed "The beast killed our sister!"
Then came the scream.
There wasn't anything else but the scream anymore. Just a mind clawing screech that took Tegru's entire thoughts and strangled them until the screaming was all there was.
Everything went black.
*********************
"Tegru! Tegru!"
Tegru felt his world come into focus once again. Just in time to feel the slap across his face.
He blinked, looking up at Sparra. She was bare breasted, strange, crude looking runes scratched into her form. It took a lot of force of will to direct his eyes upwards.
"Tegru get a hold of yourself, you perverted dolt!" Another slap, unnecessary but undoubtedly satisfying.
Tegru nodded furiously, indicating he was sober
"Good." She sighed in relief, her entire body deflating like a balloon. She blinked, a look of worry spread across her face "Tegru, what happened?"
Tegru blinked, tilting his head up. There was blood everywhere. Literally. It looked like someone decided to paint the lair in blood. It started at the entryway of Tegru's room, went through the main chamber and continued to a far corridor Tegru couldn't see through. From the looks of where he could, though, the blood continued well into the next room. A gambling glance downwards indicated stains of blood from the waist down on Sparra.
Tegru shook his head. He honestly didn't know. He blacked out when that witch let out that scream. He thought the Half-Man Crow also fell, but considering he saw three big corpses in his peripheral and the one behind him he knew of, it didn't seem like the Half-Man Crow went down without doing his job.
Tegru made a writing motion with his hand. He tried to, at least. Apparently his arm was broken at some point. The searing pain and the odd angle was enough to notify him when he glanced down at surprise.
His other arm was also broken. It raised a considerable amount of questions.
Sparra started pulling him on his neck "Come on. Let's get the hell out of here." Tegru hissed in pain and surprise, but got up shakily. It was hard. Pain shot through his arms at every movement. He had to move though, and he found a forward leaning angle that made his arms as still as possible. He just needed to walk slowly. That was the trick when you're wounded and don't want to feel pain. Obviously there were exceptions, but thankfully it wasn't now. Tegru suddenly felt very dizzy. Sparra had to hold on to him, otherwise he would've fallen flat on his ass, though he could land far worse.
"Come on. I think I still have few things I want to get. A proof of death of the witches." She stated, putting Tegru down at a table in the main chamber. They were brewing something foul in the stew pot. Tegru saw tiny skulls in it. He remembered idol gossip about an orphanage closing shop. It was nothing of note, until the tiny skull.
Sparra shambled to the furthest corridor. From Tegru's vantage point, he could discern a mass of black feathers and torn flesh. The Half-Man Crow had his wings torn off in the last moments. Considering he was on top of a limp witch spoke of the final laugh.
Wasn't there three witches, though?
Tegru glanced around. He found the third witch.
Or rather, a mass of nine foot flesh that was a witch until an animal tore through it.
In Tegru's mind's eye, he could picture what happened. The scream left the Half-Man Crow in a state of rage. There was a scuffle with one and the Half-Man Crow tore her to pieces. He then moved to the last one, busy with a spell. Whatever she casted had charred the outer side of the Half-Man Crow's wings. The witch then tore the wings off. The Half-Man Crow had the last laugh, though. Apparently it managed to lunge at her and eat her brain as well.
How he broke his arms was still a mystery, though.
A mystery he was not in the mood of solving.
Sparra came back with three large left ears. Apparently the Half-Man crow didn't bother with proof of existence when he killed the witches.
"Come on, Crow." She stated, though there was a more certain tone in her nickname. Like Tegru had solidified it. She put her shoulder under his own, lifting the silently groaning Tegru. The two dragged eachother forward. Out of the lair. The brambles were all dead. The only real struggle was lifting Tegru, who had no arms, out of the hole. Sparra had enough strength to make a spider creature. It literally tied Tegru to it's back and dragged him out.
Outside, the corpses of the Inn People were scattered about. Apparently they were some sort of thralls. When the witches died, all of witches, they did as well. They were well on their way to their mistresses' aid though. A good thing they were still human.
Tegru was missing something. He knew it. He just didn't know what.
The pair carried each other through the city, not bothering to look at the gawking onlookers. A bare breasted women with magical runes carved into her flesh, along with her Godling heritage, made her look like quite the witch herself. Thankfully there was no group of people. The single stragglers just ran.
They went to the town hall and Sparra literally kicked the door in.
"Hey! I finished the fucking mission! Where's your mayor! I need healers and I need my money!"
Sparra, Sparra, Sparra. Always so crass. Always so impulsive.
Clerks scattered about and the mayor stumbled in, looking away when he saw her attire "Miss! Please! Some clothes!"
She lunged at the Mayor, Tegru hampering her from actually grabbing the man. Pain shot through his being as she screamed "Then fucking get me some! And a healer!" Tegru laughed slightly as Sparra eased him into a chair "It's going to be alright, Crow." She stated, looking at a women who scrambled to her with a blanket
"It's going to be alright"
*********************
"Crow, where's your head at?"
Tegru blinked, looking up at Sparra. She should know by now that he goes into his head if he doesn't have a book for such a long journey.
They were in a caravan, heading East.
After the witches in the city, they were given indefinite leave until Tegru's arms could heal. The arms in question were broken to an astonishing degree. It was like someone stomped his elbows into powder. It took, with sponsored healing magic from a rather good mage, two months to heal fully and regain his use of his arms after so long without it.
Now the Order was sending them East. To combat some sort of Eastern horror that ventured too far West. The caravan was already payed for. They just needed to stay on the road for two or so months to actually get there. Not the quick way, but a caravan offers a safe way.
Sadly, he ran out of books. The request to entertain the guests at the nightly gatherings with his chanting was also denied. The most amusing thing he did for the past week was fix a cart wheel. Not even the crows kept him company. Not with this many people in constant proximity to him. He literally whittled his days away in their thankfully comfortable wagon. All the wagons had a rune of fortune on them. All written in Black Script. The language flowed like water if you knew what you were doing.
Sparra was well off, though. She naturally took to the life on the road. She took the lead of the night watch quite effectively. Her creatures patrolled the outer reaches of the caravan, serving more as scouts rather than true soldiers. It didn't stop them from smoking out and killing several small bandit groups. Those were too small to cause a real threat to the caravan, though. It was why they got hooked up with the thing in the first place. It significantly lowered variables the Order had to consider.
A shame they were horrible cooks. Tegru and Sparra never make good food. Tegru simply throwing everything that was considered a herb or spice into his meals and Sparra doing the same. The meals were nice, but both of them missed food made by someone who actually knew what they were doing.
People thankfully left him alone. Nobody really wanted to talk to a mute and the mute in question didn't really want to talk to them. All of these people were of lower intelligence. Listening to them talk only infuriated Tegru. The most prime example in Tegru's memory was a man spouting some nonsense about using dried dung as a blood staunching agent. Everyone around him actually nodded to that horrible logic.
If only there were more Sparras around.
"Hey Crow. I'm going to head to the front of the caravan. I want to know where we'll make camp." Tegru gave a nod as Sparra leaped off their wagon, jogging forward until she reached the front. A long way to jog, considering there were thirty caravans and theirs, since they joined last, were at the furthest back.
Tegru gave a lazy sigh, scooting back into his bed. He was honestly surprised when he had gotten used to the rickety motions of the wagon. Now though, with his head nestled against his used in pillow, he was well and truly glad for it. He drifted off to a nice little nap.
Up until someone tapped him on his shoulder. Hard.
Tegru groaned, figuring it was Sparra. When he looked up, he found a pink/purple skinned girl, thankfully dressed this time in some farmhand dress, with glowing light green eyes. Those eyes looked incredibly amused as Tegru made a squeak, sitting up and crawling against the waggon wall.
"Miss me?"
What should he do, what should he do, what should he do? He gained a stoic look, preparing to scream and most likely destroy their wagon by taking a deep breath.
She stopped any such ideas by leaping at him and kissing him.
Tegru honestly didn't know how the fuck to handle this. Where would he even begin? Her tong was fucking around in his mouth like it was her fucking plaything. He literally did a small flail, but she pinned him against his own bed, her strength apparently back. He had to admit though. It felt fantastic.
She pulled away, a line of saliva connecting the golem with the absolutely dumbstruck Tegru. She gave him a small smile "That was a thank you. For not killing me back then." Her voice had a new tone on it. Smooth as honey and deceptively innocent "That was also my sales pitch."
What the fuck?
She burst in laughter at his expression of surprise "Oh don't be like that. It makes a girl doubt her womanly charms~"
That wasn't the fucking point!
Tegru stood up as she climbed off of him, sitting on Sparra's bed to look him in the eyes. Tegru never did that. He had realised long ago that he never looked someone in the eye. He looked at their face. It was both easier and it was something he learned before he even developed uneasiness to look into someone's eyes.
"So, I'll explain things since you were passed out and Lady Green Hair was still out of it due to their brews making her loopy. After the second witch screamed, she repaired my Black Script at a distance with magic." She pulled the farmhand dress she had lower, revealing the marking, unscratched, on her upper chest. "I was then instructed to kill you" Her face hardened into a grimace "Thankfully she didn't tell me how long it had to be. So I figured I'd kill you slow, give your Crow-Thing some time to kill them."
Tegru furrowed his eyebrows. Then they shot wide. She was the one who broke his arms.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" She pleaded, noticing he had discovered that fact "I had to! It was either that or kill you quick! The witches were too busy with your friend to care that I wasn't doing it quick enough. It worked out in the end though! You're alive"
She made a good point. He'd probably be dead if she didn't decide to "Kill him slowly" He frowned, looking at her before giving her a nod. He believed her. She couldn't save him because the compulsion of the orders was too much. She could only kill him slowly and mean it.
She sighed in relief, giving him a grateful smile "Good. That's good. Because since my former owners are dead, killed by a thing you summoned, you own me now."
He gasped so hard that he started to choke on his own spittle.
"Well who else would own me?" She retorted, looking offended as he coughed to clean his throat out. He looked at her with bewilderment. She gave a small sigh "Look," her skin turned pale white, raising an eyebrow at him as the bony growths at the top of her head vanish, letting her hair fall on her scalp like a normal person's "I can act normal, see? I'll just tell everyone I'm your servant by choice. I finally tracked you down and it was a way to repay my debt to you"
He frowned, raising his hand
"I know I already saved your life, but we need a story, right?"
We. Like Tegru was already in on this.
"I also don't care whether you want me or not. I'm staying." She frowned, folding her arms "Now can I cook you a meal or are you going to sleep?"
Wait. Cooking meals?
He remembered something about her meals being good.
The girl was apparently also very gifted in reading someone's face "I can make that chicken you so loved…"
Done. Deal. If she wanted him dead, he would already have been. Tegru wanted his chicken.
Then, as if appearing by magic, a sharp point of a long, thin length of wood rested at the golem girl's throat. Sparra looked absolutely furious as she pushed the sharp end of some sort of bamboo at her throat "Who the fuck are you?" She hissed, spittle flying out as she hanged on the outside of their wagon.
Tegru instinctively moved in, pushing the girl away from the spear and giving Sparra a serious look. She was friendly, although understandably unexpected. The girl in question gave a small laugh "You can call me Azerith. I'm Tegru's new servant girl."
That cruel women.
Sparra glared fire into Tegru's eyes "Oh really? When did this arrangement happen." The tone implied that an answer better be given. Now. Tegru tried to gesture with his hands, but Azerith was too fast.
"Just now. He just picked me up here and made me his. Wrote it all in some fancy lettering. Wanna see?" Azerith innocently pushed her servant's dress down to give Sparra a full view of Black Script.
Gods have mercy.
The spear thing Sparra had made smacked him square on the head. He clenched his teeth and rubbed the top of his head to instinctively get rid of the pain
"Explain. Now"
Azerith gave an innocent look "There's nothing to explain. I simply decided to be his servant."
Well that's a blatant half truth if he's ever seen one. His lips curled back in thought before he nodded in agreement. Sparra raised an eyebrow, not sold yet "Really?"
Azerith chirped in, a gesture Tegru would soon learn to fear "Really! You saved me from witches. They drugged me with the food and I was left to wake up an hour later to find all of them dead. I only figured out it was because of you two months later! You were already gone for almost a week when I started looking!" She scooted forward and put a protective arm around Tegru "Please m'Lady! Have mercy!"
Sparra glared at Azerith. Slowly, she lowered her spear and dropped it to the side.
"You cook?"
Azerith smiled brightly and nodded furiously
"Make us something tonight. You make good food, you stay."
Azerith squeezed Tegru in joy, smiling brightly
"Of course, m'Lady!"
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