MQ: Arms of Gold

[Dark Temptress]

It seemed rather foolish what she was doing at the moment, and not to mention dangerous. But for some reason instead of feeling the pull of anxiety she felt the rush and the thrill of adrenaline begin to flood through her veins, spurring her further on. It was quite intoxicating like the gentle touch of a lover as he slowly brought you to your peak and left you balancing there for a moment of two, not wishing to relinquish his power over you. And the closer to the caravan she drew, the more the feeling began to seep into her.

With the relatively flat landscape that the Salvar wilderness provided her, the seductress found what she required relatively easy. It was a place where the dirt had hardened greatly in anticipation of the coming winter and the few growing plants sheltered amongst the rocks were nothing more than dried husks of their former selves.

Dismounting from Firnin, A’rai began a slow inspection of the area. Her long black and red skirt brushing against the ground as she moved about, kicking small rocks and ripping out the plants that would get in her way. When she was finished she had a small area that would be just big enough to do what she wanted and the ground appeared to be flat enough that it would not hinder her. If she screwed up though, that demon would break the circle and kill her within an instant. Of course, she did not plan on making any mistakes. She never did when it came to summoning, not unless it was on purpose.

Glancing to her right, she watched as the caravan came to a stop and felt her brows rise in confusion and surprise. Though the caravan had grown much closer to her, she could still not make out a great amount of detail. Voices carried on the wind as two figures emerged from the front caravan, but the words were far too mangled by the time her ears could catch anything more than the basic sound of what had been. Curious, she watched for a few moments longer as what appeared to be a battle quickly ensued. The one figure was throwing around the others as if they were rag dolls and then from nowhere came someone else. He ripped right through them and though A’rai could not be sure, she had the distinct feeling that everyone he came in contact with was utterly and irrevocably dead. Perhaps it was the way their bodies hit the ground. It was not the haphazard form of someone unconscious, but the skewed position of someone who no longer cared how they landed.

Where can I summon one of him? She thought with a smirk.

Turning away from the scene and walking over to her horse, she ran her fingers along his dark brown coat as her hand sought the satchel attached to his saddle. Once she had retrieved it, she quickly opened it and grabbed two things, a stick of white chalk and a book. The book was old, bound in leather that was worn around the edges and especially the corners. The spine was beginning to deteriorate and if it wasn’t for the fact that the name was embroidered into the front cover, it would have worn off long ago. It was the Pseudomonarchia Daemonum a book that Markus had in his library, hidden in the secret rooms that Kings and Shadows met in. She had liberated the book from the library the last time they had met and she highly doubted that Markus even realized it was gone.

Opening the cover, she took a deep breath as she felt that tingle of promise run up her arms. With great care she leafed through the worn and torn pages, yellowed with age. Some of them were worn passed the point of reading, which was quite disappointing considering the information that this tome concealed within it. Finally, she found the page she was looking for.

Belial…

He was one of her more favoured demons and she had summoned him before. The page contained the proper inscription needed to summon him and a suggestion on what kind of circle she should use. She disregarded it though. A’rai had her own circles and she certainly did not need the one they had drawn in here, it was slightly weaker than those she used to keep the demons at bay. She threw back the material of her cloak, allowing the cool wind to move along her constricting dress and dance across the tops of her breasts, eliciting a slight shiver from her. Her hood followed, dropping to her back, as it would only get in her way.

Kneeling, she held the book in one hand as she began to trace the circle upon the soil, making it no more than three feet in diameter. She would normally make it much bigger than that, but the landscape did not leave her much play. Not to mention the bigger it was out here, the more chance she had of messing it up. Belial’s incantation was relatively simple compared to the others she had done and so it would not take her too long. In fact, it took her less time than she thought. No more than a few minutes later and she had the circle with the inscription completed. To be sure it was correct, she went over it with her against again and again, looking for some kind of break in the chalk or even a misspelled word. But she found none.

Keeping the tome opened, she began reading aloud the ancient words written within it. The air around her shifted and changed and grew heavy with magical energy that flowed through her body and the circle in front of her.

[Djakara]

Djakara had turned to talk to the girl before Godhand, the mercenary he had hired back in Ettermire, came up to him and accosted him. However, the young entrepreneur couldn’t even manage to get a sentence out before being yelled at. Even in the cold winter of Salvar, Djakara could feel his ears going red. He was genuinely embarrassed, an embarrassment that was made that much more acute by the fact that an eighteen year old girl had been paying attention to him.

The fact was, even though he hadn’t even wanted to admit it to himself, he was in over his head. He had hired Godhand, a single mercenary, in Ettermire to have him deal with five wagons. True, he had a few other allies in there to help him, but for the most part, he had not gotten a large enough force to join him. Jame Whitizard had fallen into his lap, and grateful for providence, Djakara had taken the man up on his offer. However, their victory was not a matter of skill, it had been one of good fortune.

Now, he stumbled for some way to explain himself. “You’re later than I thought you’d be,” Djakara began. This was a lie, Godhand had arrived roughly right when Djakara had wanted. The young entrepreneur had wanted to get clear of all the big Salvarian cities and make his move in the wasteland, and that was what Godhand had done. Still, now that he was being dressed down in front of others, he wanted to defend himself. Jame had returned also, and Djakara hated to think that both of his enforcers would now think badly of him.

“Well, regardless of whose fault this is, we aren’t done yet,” he said. “We’re going to have to get a bunch of things done.” Eager to get moving, Djakara began to give a new series of instructions, though these instructions were not just for Godhand, but everyone involved.

“We’re going to need to get these weapons to Knife’s Edge,” he said. “ We get them there, and then That’s the only way we get paid, not if we in fight amongst each other. Jame and Godhand, I want the two of you to make sure that everything is going fine in the wagons back there. Make sure they have enough people to continue on, and then we’ll start moving. As long as none of the drivers are injured then we should be fine. We’ll still have to worry about the church, but the baronies here are too disorganized. If you need, take any of the weapons for the job, there’s more than enough to go around.”

With that, Djakara finally turned his attention to the girl. He had wanted to speak with the red haired teenager the moment he laid eyes on her, not only because she was attractive, but because she was also his age. The young Frieherr hated having to deal with so many people older than him, all of whom were eager to criticize him for his faults. Now, he figured he had someone his age, someone likely to be impressed by how far he had gotten in such a short time.

“We’re weapons dealers here,” he said. “And I’m the one in charge. You’re pretty brave if you’re going to walk up to a fight just like that, if you want, go sit in the first wagon and talk to the driver Brownstone, he’ll give you anything that you need. Just tell him you were sent by Freiherr Djakara Fraye.”

With that, Djakara figured he could talk to the red haired girl more later. There was one last issue he needed to deal with first. He had sent Godhand and Jame to take care of the three wagons in the back, but there was a man named Leon Adalbert that he wanted to handle personally. Unsure of whether the red haired girl would listen to him or follow he made his way over to the second wagon and entered it.

The young Freiherr smiled, Leon had been subdued. “When he wakes, let him know what the situation is,” Djakara told the dwarf. “We’ll give him one chance to join us, but if he doesn’t, I’ll let you decide what to do with him. He seems a principled man, so let him know that plans have changed and we’re taking the weapons to Raiaera now. They’re undergoing an attack from some Xem’zund and there is bound to be people there willing to pay more than Corone…”

The dwarf nodded.

“Well with that settled, it’s on to profit,” Djakara declared.

[Leon Adalbert]

With a groan, the dirty-blonde stirred and stretched out. Rather, he would have, if two factors didn't prevent him. First, his ribs were sore and bruised from the beating he had taken, and any such movement would have caused him terrible agony. Second, he couldn't move anyway, so tightly had he been bound by the dwarf.

His hands were tied together at the wrist, and his arms were bound to his sides by a single rope wrapped tightly around him. He might have wriggled out of the latter binding, but for his current handicap. One thing was strange, however. The gun still lay in the merchant's right palm, where he had held it when he tried to shoot his now-captor between the eyeballs. Balanced on his chest, and out of his reach, sat a bag of gunpowder, as if to mock the young man for his stupidity in the heat of the moment.

"A' las', yer awake," came a growl from behind and above him. With clomping steps, the grizzly dwarf from before came into view, strangely enough, towering menacingly over Leon. "Here be th' deal, lad. This shipment isn't goin' ta Knife's Edge annehmore. Th' first plan were ta take 'er ta Corone, ta fuel th' civil war there, but even that ain't happenin' now." He picked at his scraggly beard as he surveyed his captive's response while he explained the situation. "We be headed fer Raiaera now. There's a pow'rful mage there named Semsa-...Sendzu-...ne'ermind 'is name. 'E's tryin' ta take o'er tha country wit' an army o' tha dead. We're goin' ta sell these 'ere weapons ta the bards ta fight this whojamacallim."

He paused and picked up the gun from Leon's hand, loading it properly and pointing it at Leon's head before he continued. "I here tell ye got a good head on yer shoulders, lad. I also here ye got uncommon charm to ye, and yer tha heir to a trade comp'ny. Ye can 'elp us, and share tha profit, or ye can fergit all o' that inher'tance." He cocked the hammer with a deafening click. "What'll it be, lad?"

Through the entire speech, Leon lay there listening intently, trying to figure out the best way to make it out of this alive and, better yet, live to profit from it. He hated to break a deal, but this necromancer, if unchecked, might turn next to Alerar, and then what? He'd be out of a home, probably dead, and if not that, incredibly poor and on his own in a harsh world. Besides which, the dwarf had made it clear that, should he not accept, he would have a little ball of metal lodged in the back of his brain.

There was only one thing to say. "How much for my assistance, good dwarf?" he asked, smiling.

[Crimson Rose]

Brave...I don't know about brave... Mariah thought nervously, as she listened to the dark skinned youth's voice. More like frigid...and I desperately wanted to get out of the cold. If, I had my choice. I would have kept on moving until I reached a safe house. At least...there I would have found someone I could trust....I don't even know this boy.....how can I be sure...he won't do anything... biting her lip, Mariah tried to resist the urge to leave the warmth of the wagon.

Her heart was telling her to get out, leave before she got herself hurt; but her brain was saying something entirely different, her mind was telling her to stay and not risk the cold. Starting to chew nervously on her lower lip, Mariah's eyes studied the dark pair that briefly looked at her. He was handsome...in an innocent sort of way, with his dark hair and soft eyes. His voice was strong too, similarly his stance and authority reminded her of Seth.

Pain was tingling slightly on her tender lips, as she released her teeth from them. A sigh escaped from her mouth as she thought If I can trust Seth....then I can trust him. I don't think he'll hurt me.

With her mind made up, Rose gave the boy a slight smile, in a soft voice she murmured "First off, I am Mariah, and second I have a proposal for you. If I help you with this weapons trade...I want a cut. I won't do this for free." She then moved to make her way towards the first wagon. A slight smile on her face as she felt confident for once.

As she traveled over the cold ground toward's the driver's seat of the wagon she shivered. The wind had grown colder, as if a storm was fast approaching. Wrapping her cloak to guard herself from the freezing winds, she soon spots a short dwarf leading four horses. Moving to sit next to him she smiles wearily at him saying "Hi...I'm Mariah, Djaraka Fraye sent me to sit with you.

"Ah lass welcome. I am guessing your another hired hand for this weapons deal?" The dwarf said in a low voice.

Mariah nodded as she settled herself down on the wooden seat. Her eyes traveled slowly to the four chestnut horses. Their manes gleamed against the frigid climate. She could see their breathe as they plodded along the frozen path. Looking at them she softly asks 'Are they used to long travels?"

Brownstone nodded as he said gruffly "Yes they are. Don't worry your pretty head. They'll get us to where we are going."

Mariah nodded as she pressed the soft material of her cloak closer to her body. She felt nervous around all these men. She hoped that she'd be able to get to a safe house safely, and that no harm would come to her. As she looked over the caravan wagon, her eyes counted at least two other men aside from Djaraka. Beginning to chew again on her lower lip she thought worriedly I hope I'll be ok.....and that I didn't get myself into something that I can't get out of....

[Godhand]

If he hadn't seen it with his own fucking eyes he wouldn't have believed it. He had tried to slap some sense into the kid, let him know that this was a job and that like any other job it needed to be completed quickly and efficiently with as many unforseen variables avoided as possible. And yet there he was, not two minutes after Godhand had told him what was who he was chatting up some broad that had just walked up to the scene of a horrible massacre and asked for shelter like that's what made sense. And lord, the flirting. The gunrunner had just witnessed a dozen people murdered in cold blood and yet he was still ready and willing to get intimate with some strange girl. Fucking teenagers.

And then, yes, we're weapons dealers. Why don't you come on in? Godhand couldn't believe his ears. Why didn't Djakara just say yes, we're commiting a war-crime on both Alerar and Salvar. We're shouldering all of the considerable risk but please, take a nice big cut out of the whole thing. I don't mind. If he hadn't been paid to protect the wagons and as an irritating aside his employer as well, the mercenary would be beating him across the neck and shoulders with the nearest blunt object. But, and though he was a filthy Goddamn cretin for recruiting help in the middle of the mission itself, at least he'd managed to lure in a capable warrior. The churchies around here...They didn't attack one at a time. They swarmed you like frenzied insects and though Godhand was tough, a nest of hornets could still kill a lion. It was nice to have somone watching his back. Still, he needed to make sure the new guy knew what was what.

"You! What was the kid's first mistake?"

"He brought me in without asking anyone."

"Good answer. I'm glad to know at least one of his employees besides me isn't an idiot."

Godhand walked forward and shook the new mercenary's hand. The swordsman had seen him work out of the corner of his eye; not as strong as him but fast. That counted for a lot in this business. You could wear size 30 boots and punch harder than the devil but if you couldn't get close enough to lay someone out before they got an arrow off then you might as well be four feet tall and still have your baby teeth.

The mercenary turned out to actually be pretty sharp for his age. Knew how the game was played at least, and that was good enough for now. Godhand went from wagon to wagon checking to see how many dead there were and what kind of losses they had suffered. There had been none despite their leader's outburst, which suprised him but was pleasing all the same. After he had finally gotten rid of the bodies and sat up front in the leading wagon Godhand told the rider to get moving.

It was a long way to Knife's Edge.

[Call me J]

Jame was glad that he spoke with the older silver haired mercenary. They had yet to exchange names, and the half dragon still thought he was far more reliable than Djakara. Had this been a mission he was undertaking for profit, Jame would have had no objections about taking what he could carry and leaving. However, after what had happened in Eluriand, Jame knew he couldn’t afford to do that. There was far too much at stake here, the weapons needed to help in the fight against Xem’zund.

Once everything had been settled and the wagons were moving again, Jame made his way to the first wagon. From the talk they had had, Jame had got the impression that if someone was going to speak to Djakara it would have to be him. The silver haired mercenary had either made his peace or was content to stew in his anger. With that, Jame made his way up to the first wagon, where Djakara was continuing to chat up the red haired girl.

“Oh hell… that’s where his mind is now,” Jame thought irritably. He knew Djakara’s look well, for he had wore it many times himself. Normally, the half dragon wouldn’t have had a problem with it. It was less than an hour ago that he was flirting with Maia in the Schools of Magic in Eluriand. However, now, the situation was out of control. Djakara hadn’t really even checked up on anyone, and he was supposed to be the leader.

The two of them were in the wagon, talking to each other. Djakara was offering her a blanket, and whatever they were saying, it had absolutely nothing to do with getting weapons to Knife’s Edge. Jame could tell it by the slight, meaningless lilt that had appeared in Mariah’s voice when she laughed. Their conversation was meaningless.

“Djakara, I need to talk to you,” Jame called out. Djakara paid no mind. Jame shouted it again, only to be ignored once more. With that, Jame started to move more purposively, putting his anger into his walk as he climbed up into the wagon.

Once he was in the wagon, Jame tapped Djakara on the shoulder, but he was brushed off again.

“Just a minute!” Djakara complained, with his voice more resembling a child’s whine than that of a leader. The younger boy pushed Jame’s hand away.

“It’s something important…” Jame threatened.

Djakara only replied with, “I’m talking to Mariah.”

At that point, Jame decided he’d had enough. He took a step back, only to break into a light run. Before either Djakara or Mariah realized what he was doing, Jame’s forearm had caught Mariah in the throat, knocking her to the ground. He looked over her as she lay there fallen, the wind knocked out of her. “We can talk now,” he said darkly to Djakara.

Initially, Djakara was too surprised to say anything, but within seconds he managed some stammers and a single protest. “But she-”

That was when Jame cut him off. “For the sake of the Mya above, there’s a time and place for the women. If you’re smart about this, you’d impress her by actually doing something. Way you’re talking now, she’s running off with me or silver hair before this is through. Probably me, he’s too old, even after I gave her the short clothesline. Thing is, girls aren’t going to like you if you flirt around while Eluriand burns.”

Djakara was still angry, but he seemed willing to mollify Jame now, perhaps only because he had no other choice.

“What did you want?” Djakara asked.

“You’re losing your men…” Jame replied. “They don’t respect you, especially that silver haired man, the older one.”

“You mean Godhand?”

“Yeah,” Jame replied. “I guess. Silver hair, more ornery than I am?”

Djakara nodded. “Well, leave that business to me,” he replied indignantly, finally finding his spine again.

Jame just shrugged as he hopped off the wagon to go back and guard the rear. “It’s your funeral,” he warned as he left.

(bunny of Mariah approved by Crimson Rose)

[Dark Temptress]

As the last of the words were lost to the wind, the stench of sulphur began to permeate the air. Strong and choking, it filled her lungs with the disgusting smell, nearly making her gag and more than once lose her breath. No matter how many summonings she did, she never grew accustomed to the smell of rotting eggs that always accompanied a demons entry. She didn’t know why and she had never bothered asking, but she assumed it was residual energy from the transfer from their realm to her own. Perhaps some day she should question it, but today was not that day.

The summoning was far less dramatic than most, but it did the job. Within the circle a small fog began to emerge, dark purple in colour. It obscured the light and allowed nothing to penetrate inside, not even her eyes. It lasted for only a few moments, unchanging within the circle as the elements outside of it made no effect at all. And then it dissipated with a strong gust of wind that billowed her cloak around her body and made her wrap her arms around herself seeking just a little more heat. As her forest green eyes watched the fog shift away, she gazed upon the familiar form of Belial.

He had a basic humanoid shape with a few major differences. He was nearly seven feet tall and he had a set of obsidian horns upon his head that curled back over his black hair. Upon his muscular shoulders was another set of three spiked growths of bone that protruded upwards from his skin, skin that was black and coloured in crimson markings that quite possibly meant something to his kind but nothing to her. At the end of each one of his fingers was a long, claw that she knew was sharp enough to cut easily rend flesh and though he looked a bit on the small side for someone so tall, he was packed with muscle.

“Nice to see you again, Belial.” A’rai said with a smile.

“The pleasure is all yours, humans.” He grunted in a voice that sounded almost layered. He was so magnificent compared to the lowly shadow demon that she had summoned to kill that Priest.

“Now, now… no need to be testy and rude. I thought we’ve come farther than the whole demon and human thing.” She gave him a pretend pout that she knew he would see right through.

He growled the next words at her as he moved to the very edge of the circle, unable to actually leave it. “If you told me your name, maybe I could call you by that instead.”

She smirked as she took a step closer but didn’t dare enter the circle. If she were to so much as cross within an inch of those lines, he would rip her to pieces without a moment’s hesitation. “You of all people know just how powerful a name can be… don’t you, Belial?”

He snarled and barred teeth far too long and far too sharp at her, raising his fist and smashing it against the unseen force that surrounded him.

“No need to get all upset,” A’rai said to him as she began moving around to the other side of the circle. He turned his body with her and surveyed the area around him, as if realizing for the first time that she had summoned him outside and not within the chambers of Kings and Shadows. “I give you the choice of spreading your wings and using those muscles of yours.” He remained silent as she watched his eyes greedily drink in the Salvar wilderness. Apparently demons trapped in other realms just didn’t get to see very much of Althanas.

“Do you see that caravan over there?” She pointed, he followed and nodded his head with a confirming grunt. “I want you to tear it and all the people inside of it apart. Any way you want to. Have some fun, Belial and remind me why you’re my favourite.”

The scowl that had been looming over his angular face turned into a rather pleased grin. With a bow of his head, he disappeared leaving nothing but a faint mist in his wake that quickly went with the wind. Turning her eyes from the circle to the caravan, she watched as it began its move towards Knife’s Edge once more. Whatever had taken place upon it she didn’t know and didn’t care to know. Everyone would be dead soon and the shipment of weapons destroyed.

Following her orders, Belial appeared before the first of the five caravans, his form drastically standing out amongst the landscape. Though she could not see the details of his face from here, she knew he would enjoy this greatly. Without wasting a moment’s time, the demon called forth a large spear made completely of flame that he threw towards the four steeds pulling the caravan along.

[Djakara]

Though Djakara was looking back angrily towards Jame when the demon appeared, the sudden force with which Brownstone pulled the wagon to a stop alerted him to what was coming. “Damnit lad, a fire spear!” the dwarf said, running to the back of the wagon for cover.

Djakara didn’t have the time to worry about Jame or Mariah for a moment as he prepared to fend off the fire spear heading towards the horses. Immediately, he waved his hand, creating a shield of electricity over the horses. The fire shield collided with it and within seconds, the fire dissipated. Djakara smirked. “Took care of that,” he said, almost as if to imply that Jame and Godhand weren’t the only fighters involved with the convoy.

Though the boy took one last look at Mariah lying on the ground with the wind knocked out of her and decided that she would be fine. Instead, he had decided that he was going to fight this demon himself, if that was what the demon wanted. He picked up his personal bow, a weapon that he had taken from a vampire in Underwood, and pulled back on the bow string.

Though Djakara had not knocked an arrow into the weapon, a bolt of electricity soon appeared where an arrow was supposed to be. Figuring that he was speaking not only to intimidate the demon, but to get his team’s respect back, he didn’t call for any help, even though he didn’t doubt that all the warriors from the caravan had already taken their arms. Now, Djakara didn’t consider them allies, but as witnesses he was going to win back with his valor.

“You picked the wrong caravan to mess with!” he said. “I don’t care if you support the church or state, you’re not getting anywhere near these weapons. I have staked my reputation and my life in the pursuit of this task, and no demon is going to get in my way!”

Djakara smiled. He only hoped that Mariah had got her bearings back so that she could have heard him. With his smile becoming disturbingly more arrogant every second he waited, he finally let go of the bow, only to completely miss his target by a distance of five feet. “Shiiiiiit!”

Belial’s second attack now seemed to come without warning. Djakara had barely lowered his bow before he saw it heading his way. He was frozen, surprised by the deadly accuracy with which the demon’s attack had come his way. It was a quick fireball, and seconds later it hit him and he had fallen down to the caravan floor, embers dancing on his chest as he’d fallen next to Mariah. He was still conscious, and Brownstone immediately began to pat out the flames with a blanket, but still, Djakara realized that he’d failed. Belial was still out there, and someone else would handle him. Probably Godhand or Jame, the two whose respect he had all but lost.

(Bunny of Belial approved by Dark Temptress)

[Godhand]

Godhand was just settling himself in for a long and hopefully quiet ride when out of nowhere the creature had appeared. Big guy; tall. He was a bit thin, though. Most likely a capable lancer or scout but not much for one-on-one fist fights with others of his kind. The horns and spikes were a nice touch, but Godhand knew no bird preened his feathers like that unless he was serious about warding off predators. And topside in the tundra, with no lava or vampires or fellow demons to help the fellow out, that's just what the mercenary was.

And then, of course, came Djakara. He'd impressed Godhand by neutralizing the creature's spear before it could harm their horses and showing that he had more sense than your regular underhanded gunrunner. Nevertheless, all good things must come to an end. His employer had worked himself up into some sort of towering pride frenzy and was now loudly explaining how he didn't need help, how he was a real man etcetera. After the little display with the electric barrier he'd actually earned enough respect from the mercenary that he didn't mind letting him strut some of his stuff, but then he had to throw it all away by missing the demon with his arrow by a good four or five feet. And then the lancer had responded with some hellfire and that was that. The kid was out for the count.

Godhand muttered a curse and with his irritation renewed dismounted from the wagon. The swordsman walked up the demon in no hurry, easily swatting away the minor fireballs the creature summoned forth. Finally he was face to face with the demon, close enough to talk to him. The monster reared back and tried to appear regal or intimidating. Something. He probably expected that the mercenary would try to cut a deal with him and was most likely already rehearsing his haughty response in his head.

"Bit cold out here for your kind, isn't it?"

"How d-"

That was as far as he got. The mercenary had taken a quick step back and then hit Sweet Chin Music on the demon. He was a bit tall so he had aimed for his chest instead, but nearly fell when instead of the satisfying impact and thud he had expected the creature suddenly burst into smoke. Godhand stumbled forward awkwardly but quickly regained his balance by steadying himself with his other foot. Unfortunately this left him right at the center of the cloud of noxious fumes. He flailed his arms while coughing to drive away the sulfurous stench before quickly surveying the area around the wagons. When a demon didn't leave a corpse that meant it had been summoned and that meant somewhere around the convoy there lurked an enemy.

[Leon Adalbert]

Leon rubbed his wrists where the dwarf had bound them. The skin was still sore from the chafing ropes, and his ribs weren't in much better shape. Still, he wasn't tied up on the floor anymore, staring down the barrel of a single shot pistol, and that was good. The caravan was moving again, back on its way to Knife's Edge before going to Raiaera, where much gold was to be had. All things considered, the young man felt rather lucky for this turn of events.

"Say, dwarf, what's your name anyway?" he inquired. "I'd like to know what to call the first of your kind to lay me lower than himself."

"Ye can call me Aafo, lad. An' I'll be lettin' thattun slide. But, boy, you make anudder shor' joke, an' it'll be yer last." The disgruntled dwarf set the gun and two small bags down on the crate between himself and the Adalbert boy, pushing them across to his companion. "An' don' fergit ta load the powder next time, rocks fer brains."

Leon picked up the firearm, looking it over. He hadn't noticed what a nice piece of work the pistol was before, when he haphazardly grabbed it. The steel barrel and handle were encased in a smooth dark mahogany, with a piece of filigreed iron stamped on either side, between the trigger and the hammer. The base of the handle came to a knob, designed to allow it to hang loosely in the palm when not in immediate use, but rather at the ready. The angle of the handle with the barrel was perfect, as well, for comfortable aim by a swordsman, who would be used to holding his hand tilted slightly forward to guard, rather than straight up and down.

"It's a beautiful weapon, Aafo," he said as he tucked it into a narrow pocket inside his jacket. He then reached out and pocketed the two bags, one of bullets, the other the bag of powder that had sat on his chest as he dozed. Just as he did so, the wagon lurched to a halt once more, forcing Leon to catch himself on the crate in front of him before falling backwards into another. He spun around, looking to see what was going on and why they had stopped again.

Some sort of light show was taking place above the horses leading the first wagon, and the Freiherr was shouting something in an overconfident tone before he was struck down by a ball of flame. Ignoring the pain in his chest, Leon leapt over the crate and down onto the solid, if frozen, earth right behind the whinneying workhorses. He drew the loaded pistol, pointing it around as he surveyed the wintry countryside. He spotted the perpetrator just in time to see a large silver-haired man walking up to it. With a single kick to the chest, the horned beast disintegrated in a puff of smoke.

I don't want to get on his bad side, he mused, putting the weapon away.