Stepping Stones

[Nevermore]

2574


Closed. All bunnying approved. If and when that extends to dialogue, it will have been provided by the other roleplayer.

He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you. - Nietzsche

[Nevermore]

Two figures shared the lone patch of moonlight that streamed in through windows crusted over with years of filth. They were alone amid crumbled pews and a ruined altar, clad in leather jerkin and threadbare dress respectively. The hunter had taken care to light the single remaining candelabra, though it did little to assuage the chill that crept in through cracks in the old masonry. The moldering portraits of long-dead saints hung in dusty alcoves, illuminated by the soft orange light.

It had required more than a few reassurances before the woman agreed to meet him in the old church. Rumors indicated that powerful magi had used it for a battlefield some years before. Ever since, the slum’s many crime lords avoided the place, though they fought hungrily for every scrap of territory they could sink their teeth into. Not even criminals wanted to risk invoking any curses that might linger between the forgotten clay statues of gods and saints.

As far as Valerius could tell, those rumors were true. Sensate strands of energy blanketed the walls and floor like old cobwebs, evidence of a conflict on a scale that the young mageling could scarcely imagine. Still, he knew that vandals and robbers had long since triggered any dormant spells that had survived the battle.

He brought all of his clients to the church precisely because of the superstitions surrounding it. Places free of prying eyes were far and few between in the Radasanthian slums. The woman in front of him looked around warily, scowling as she kicked away a rat carcass. Finally, after seemingly deciding that no spirits were about to leap free from the shadows and steal her soul, she looked Valerius in the eye.

“M’lord…” she began meekly, rubbing her arms for warmth. Her breath reeked faintly of onions.

A ghost of a smile played around Valerius’ lips. “Yes, love. Tell me about your monster.”

“A- alright, m’lord. Pardon me nerves, but you know the stories they tell about this place…”

They aren’t stories, he wanted to tell her, but scaring the woman wouldn’t accomplish anything.

“Anyways, it was right near me house, m’lord, not three nights ago. There’s a grate to the storm sewer in the alley, ye see. I was preparin’ to lie down for some rest after a hard day drivin’ me vegetable cart around when I heard this awful scrapin’ noise, and this terrible stink came seepin’ through the walls. I looked out the window and saw it pull itself out of the manhole… ‘twas a thing out of the blackest pit in Purgatory, Lord, a shadow straight from me nightmares.” The woman paled visibly and dabbed at her glistening brow with a hand.

Valerius listened intently. Till now he had spent his days stalking giant rats and the exotic pets of careless noblemen… but this creature sounded like closer kin to a demon than the vermin he had dealt with so far.

“It had the skull of a ram on its shoulders, but that wasn’t the worst of it, oh no. There was no heart… instead it had this weird glowin’ stone juttin’ from its chest, made the midnight fog look like the bloody mist on a battlefield. After that I… I went back to me bed and tried to forget what I’d seen, m’lord.”

He rested a calming hand on her shoulder and smiled. “You did the perfectly correct thing, you know. This, as I’m sure you know, is something best left to professionals… Now, would you be so kind as to show me the way to your home, my dear? I’ll take care of your little problem tonight.” He hoped his tone didn’t betray the building excitement he felt.

The woman breathed a sigh of relief as she realized he meant they were leaving the church. She cast a quick look around and began to pick her way across the field of debris, eager to return to the familiar streets she called home. Valerius strode over and blew out the flickering candles before he joined her. The entrance towered above them, carved from black stone and inlaid with murals of gods and heroes; he took the brass doorknocker in his hand and pulled, wincing at the hesitant creak the door made as it swung inward. He opened it just wide enough for them to slip through and pulled it shut as he left

His client did not so much as look back to see if he followed before she rounded the corner onto the dark Radasanthian thoroughfares. Valerius was more courteous: he glanced back at the image of a god engraved on the obsidian door and spoke a little prayer for himself. One could never curry too much favor with the pantheon, after all.

He would need all the favor he could get, he figured.

The slums were a greasy, guilty stain on the great tapestry of Radasanth. Small, by the city’s standards: a few forgotten neighborhoods, ancient houses and hovels crammed together with wooden walkways joining the rooftops. The local thieves used them like a highway, and even now, Valerius spotted one or two shadows flitting across rotten boards, loot clanging in sacks slung over their shoulders. A wretched hive of scum and villainy if he had ever seen one.

The area doubled as one of Radasanth’s many red-light districts. Here in the outer fringes the whores and streetwalkers catered to orthodox tastes. Gaslamps flared on the sidewalk, bathing the thoroughfare and everyone on it in sepia light. The outsiders stood out easily here, merchants and aristocrats hoping to indulge their exotic fantasies in the establishment houses. Some stood with their shoulders back and their heads held high, indignant of the social stigma they opened themselves to, while others looked down at their feet and simmered in their own self-disgust.

Valerius noticed a friend of his father enter one of the better-kept structures. From the second story window, a child of ambiguous gender peered down with pleading eyes. The hunter smiled and turned away, not wanting to lose sight of his employer. As they continued towards the borough’s bloated heart, the crowds thinned.

The sumptuous houses segued into the xenian brothels, where the brats of noblemen cheered their friends on as they rutted with elves and half-orc women and other, more uncommon breeds. Cuffs, whips, and paddles lay discarded in the streets, some spattered with blood. Valerius looked in through a window and saw a girl of fourteen or fifteen in a baby’s crib, bawling and screeching. His view as obscured as a passerby stooped to peer in, then slipped in through the open door.

Such a fascinating place, Valerius thought to himself, but he had no time to satisfy his carnal curiosity.

Besides, before long even the red light quarter surrendered to the poverty that consumed the slums. The whorehouses gave way to lower, meaner homes. Pale-skinned women in rags sat on the sidewalks and moaned for more of the drugs that had destroyed them. Here Valerius felt out of his element, but he never lost sight of his guide’s floral dress as she drove ever deeper into the center of Radasanth’s darkness, into a place gentlemen couldn’t dream of in their worst nightmares. Eyes coated him as he walked, gazing out from unlit windows as the fog descended, enveloping streets and buildings and blessing him with its merciful camouflage.

He picked up his pace, not wanting to be left behind. For an instant, he thought the woman vanished into the gray haze; however, a second later she reappeared with a finger pressed to her lips. Valerius understood why a moment later: a scarlet smear radiated out of the fog a few dozen feet away, unmoving.

He looked to the woman for confirmation.

“We’re here,” she whispered, and Valerius could almost taste her fear.

[Sicarius]

It was with great reluctance that Arianna pushed open the tavern door. She regretted the decision immediately as the mixed ensemble of scents washed over her. Amongst the smoke and cedar, liquor dominated the air. She stifled her desire to gag, masking it with a narrow scowl. The door slammed shut behind her, bathing her ivory skin in waning orange light. She blinked quickly, her eyes unaccustomed to the dimness.

Laborers mulled around the room, their skin caked in dirt. They clustered near gaming tables, huddled at the bar, and loitered at the base of a makeshift stage where a young barmaid danced. Their shouts overwhelmed the flute in the background. There may have been a drum somewhere along the line, or that may have been the laborers’ stomping feet.

Tables had been tossed aside to clear the floor for them, and they did not hesitate in the slightest to make use of it. The area filled steadily as people left the dicing tables in frustration. Tipsy patrons stumbled in from the bar, veterans of this particular scene. They wound their way to the back to stand on tables, where they had a clear view of the dancer. They were the quietest, with the exception of the gamblers, but perhaps the most lewd.

Arianna picked her way through the crowd unobtrusively. She did not want to think about what would happen should one of the drunks try to lay their hands on her. She could not hope to outmatch any of them in a contest of strength. Instead, she needed the subjective form of strength her sword provided. Stabbing someone, however, opened up another set of problems. She lost regardless of her actions. The only way to avoid that outcome was to avoid the situation entirely.

A bead of sweat dripped from her forehead by the time she made it to the bar. Every step had been treacherous. She could hardly breathe past the pounding of her heart. She was finally at her mini-destination. That was something, at least. Inhaling deeply to collect herself, she opened her mouth to speak. The bartender stood behind his bar, a sopping wet rag in one hand, and a clay mug in the other.

“Um,” she began hesitantly. The bartender looked her way. “I was wondering about… um, a sword. I heard that a, uh, demon was around here, or something.”

“What was that?” Heat rose in her cheeks at the bartender’s reply. “Speak up, will ya?”

“Um, I asked about the, uh, demon. I heard there was one around here, and… well, I thought you might know something about it.” She clenched her jaw. She took another breath. “Well, do you?”

“That I do, that I do,” the bartender said. He paused in the midst of his cleaning. “But what business do you have with that thing? Last I checked, demons like that eat little girls.” He could not have put Arianna’s back up more firmly had he tried.

“What’s it to you, huh? Last time I checked…” she trailed off, fists clenched at her sides.

The bartender snorted. “A feisty one, eh? Well, you’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that. Why are you interested in demons anyway? Don’t tell me you’re seriously considering going after it.” He furrowed his brow.

“Of course not,” Arianna said. She should have been used to this by now. More the fool her for expecting cooperation from some stingy old man. “My… father wants to know. He’s a monster hunter.”

“So where is your dad?”

“On the other side of town. He’s scouting around for it. I just want to help too.” She softened her voice and stuck out her lower lip. “Please?” she all but begged, widening her eyes as she looked up to the bartender.

The man frowned. “All right, I guess it’ll do no harm to help you out. We don’t want you or your father coming onto that thing by accident now. From what I hear, the thing’s by the storm sewer. He comes out every so often for food and whatnot. I hear he sometimes brings children back with him. So you just go and tell your dad—”

“What about its sword?” she interrupted.

“Huh? Sword?”

“Doesn’t it have a magic sword?” She bit her lip in anticipation.

“Er, yeah, I think I heard something like that,” the bartender said. “It’s a nasty thing. Uh, what was it called again? Serpent’s Fang? Ghost’s Fang? Something like that. It’s the real deal, I tell you. Got a gnarled hilt and some dark runes running up the blade.”

Arianna nodded. That confirmed all of the other rumors she had been gathering. This was the third person to say that the demon was hiding out in the sewers. The sword would be hers. She shot a smile at the bartender. Waving brightly, she left without another word, dancing through the crowd.

She pushed open the door, barreling her way onto the street. The sun hung low in a crimson sky dotted with clouds. She blinked to adjust her eyes to the rapid change in light once more and darted off into the sunset. The sewer entrance was on the far side of town. If she hurried, she might be able to surprise the demon at nightfall.

If the rumors about its sword held even a grain of truth, she would not stand a chance in a headlong assault. However, with the element of surprise on her side, she could overwhelm the thing. The lack of light put her at a disadvantage, but if she landed the first blow, her victory was assured.

Time became fluid as she ran. She ignored the burning in her calves, the aching of her chest. The night slowly engulfed the sky as she ran, until only a sliver of light remained. She slowed to a halt, panting heavily. She unstrapped her pack and dug around until she found a lantern. A single spark was sufficient to light it. Once lit, the fire consumed the oil within at a steady rate, slowly draining the vial screwed in at the base. A bubble of light sprung up to stave off the darkness around her.

She looked at the sky with a sigh. If she had known how long it would take to reach the storm gate, she would have gone back to her inn and waited until morning. Maybe she could take a shortcut…

The alleys around her looked promising. She chose one at random and darted off in the general direction of her destination. As long as she kept going west, she should be able to find the main sewer gate.

Midway down her third alley, her feet tripped over something. The lantern fell from her hands with a clang, and the ground rushed to meet her. The cold weight on her legs increased. For a moment, it felt as if she was being dragged, but she dismissed the notion immediately. She shook her surprise away and tried standing up. Her legs would not budge.

“Huh?” She blinked. A smoky chuckle greeted her, sending chills down her spine. She kicked off instinctively and rolled away. Grabbing the lantern, she angled the light towards the source of the voice. A pair of filthy, clawed hands protruded from the ground—no, from a manhole in the ground. They scrabbled along the edge of the manhole until they found purchase. Blackened horns rose next, followed by a pale, elongated skull. Yellow eyes streaked with angry red veins reflected the lantern light.

“Demon?” Arianna asked. Her voice shook, and her breathing came irregularly. Her heart thudded in her chest. Was that fear? No, it couldn’t be. She was not afraid of some puffed up dog. Certainly not. The creature pulled itself from the sewer, chuckling as it went. It pulled out a sword once it was fully out of the sewer, a nasty thing with a crooked blade and a gnarled hilt. It was just an ugly slab of iron tied to a piece of boar’s hide. Even so, something about it seemed sinister, wicked.

It lunged and she rolled out of the way. She forced her blade out of its scabbard just in time to parry its next attack, but the force of the blow numbed her arm. It was stronger than it appeared. She gritted her teeth and battered its blade out of the way. Before she had time to launch an attack of her own, the demon forced her back again.

She had to drop her lantern again to maintain balance. She circled out of the way, keeping the demon well out of reach, but in doing so made a mistake. In her carelessness, she had placed the demon between her and the light, severely cutting down on her visibility. She could not make out any of its features and distinguished its sword only by the glint of lantern light it reflected. She was able to block it by a small margin, but the blow drove her into a wall.

“Give me the damn sword!” she growled.

[Nevermore]

The red glow shuddered and swerved through the fog abruptly as Valerius drew closer. He heard the clang of steel on steel, briefly making him apprehensive about competition, but the cry of “Give me the damn sword!” that immediately followed dispelled his worries. In fact, it gave him an excellent opportunity to end the struggle without exhausting himself.

Noiselessly sliding his blade from its leather scabbard, he dashed forward, heels clacking on the uneven cobblestone. The clamor of their fight obfuscated his approach, setting the young nobleman up for a perfect surprise attack. He crossed the distance in long strides, bringing his short sword up for a jab through the weird stone that the woman had mentioned in the church.

He could see the frayed ends of its raggedy cloak when he heard the shrill warning, “Master, behind you!”

He barely had time for confusion before the demon whirled, fleshless face so close Valerius could see nicks in the bone. The smell of rotten meat and ammonia burned his nostrils: predator breath. The beast’s weapon batted away his sword, a wickedly curved scimitar blunted by time and use, yet kept preternaturally sharp by the runes emblazoned on its flat side.

Valerius reeled and the demon stepped with him, yellow eyes struck through with red veins. Behind it, the other combatant’s blade cut through the space where the demon had been standing an instant prior. The hunter twisted his sword, changing his grip so that he could bring it up and open the monster from hip to shoulder. He had not expected a fatal blow, or anything even remotely so drastic, not from this distance with no space to build momentum.

But neither had he expected the creature to twist its wrist impossibly and parry his blow, nor for its skeletal fist to sink into his stomach before he could feel surprised. He wheezed as he bent forward involuntarily, expecting his negligence to cost him even further, but the demon whirled away once more as Valerius’ unwitting partner slashed at its skull. The glimmer of steel passed just a hairsbreadth overhead, close enough that he would be a few inches shorter were he not doubled over already.

“It can sense our surprise attacks somehow,” he said between gasps for breath. She nodded wordlessly and stepped forward, bringing up her own sword in a defensive stance. He poised his own for an attack, figuring that even with its impressive sixth sense, the demon could not be in two places at once. Nevertheless, they advanced cautiously, wary of the way its beady eyes took in their every movement, suspicious of how it changed the angle of its sword infinitesimally as it debated how to best counter their assault.

Valerius presented only his side to the beast, blade poised to thrust, eyes glowing madly. He had read about these creatures in bestiaries and the occasional grimoire. Their power centered itself in that surrogate heart, where the souls of its victims languished, fueling its strength. Until they damaged it, they were only prolonging the inevitable, but doubtlessly it would defend its soul stone at all costs.

He didn’t have time to consider his options.

“What do you want?” a voice called; not the shrill tenor from before, but a low, rich tone with the slightest hint of a Salvarian accent.

Valerius smiled. A childlike giggle passed his lips, but his expression darkened suddenly. The tip of his sword weaved through the air. “What do I want, eh? Power, wenches, coin and good wine. The same as all men.” He did not sound so sure of himself, but he masked his uncertainty with another chuckle.

The demon tilted its fleshless skull; the cloak covering its hunched back trembled inexplicably. A moment later, a woman’s haughty voice purred, “Why do you laugh, noble boy?”

“What would you have me do, demon? Whimper like a whipped dog? Perhaps you have heard the saying: laugh and the world laughs with you… weep and you weep alone. I chose the former.”

The hideous creature appeared to consider this comeback for a moment. A harmony of three voices replied, shrill and deep and proud, “You will end the night alone, hunter. Then we will hear you weep.”

It lunged, clawed feet clacking on the cobblestone. Their blades clashed, spitting sparks and filling the fog with the song of steel on steel. Valerius could barely follow the movements of its scimitar and responded with pure instinct, but even then, he could not help but give ground. Before long, he knew, it would pin him to the wall as it had the girl, and there gut him like a fish. He tried to return its blows with equal force, but for all the power he poured into his ripostes it only grew stronger.

He didn’t want to die, he realized with a sudden, imbecilic intensity… but it gave him no choice. With a final vicious horizontal slash it wrenched his short sword from his grasp. It went clattering across the pavement, disappearing into the fog. His opponent did not miss its opportunity, skeletal hand reaching upward and taking Valerius by the throat. With inhuman strength, it slammed him against the wall of some ramshackle building. He heard a startled cry from behind the thin walls.

The slut that hired me is gone, he thought, and felt sick, until he remembered that he was not totally alone.

“Girl!” he croaked, face already beginning to flush a livid purple. “Its hand! Cut off its damn hand!”

As if it too had forgotten its second adversary, the demon turned sideways, choking Valerius with one hand and confronting its other foe with the sword. The young nobleman could almost feel the satisfaction radiating from the demon’s soul stone as the life bled out of him.

“Yes, girl…” the Salvarian voice called over Valerius’ groans. “What do you want?”

[Sicarius]

Arianna blinked in wonderment as the demon’s voice degenerated to a low, static-filled gurgle. Its mouth worked too quickly for her to follow. Whenever she thought she was on the verge of recognizing a word, its lips twitched in an impossible manner. It licked its lips, moistening them with rust-flecked spittle. As it worked its way into the light, Arianna made note of how its skin clung to bones in emaciated clumps. In all appearances, the demon lacked any sort of muscle mass.

How did it put so much force behind its attacks? The thing was a sack of flesh and bones, liable to be blown away by a stray gust of wind. She could not comprehend how it could lift its blade, much less stagger her under the weight of its blows. Her arms yet stung from the impact, but it seemed impossible. Unless…

It must be the sword, she realized. The blade truly was as powerful as rumored. Had the arrival of this newcomer not have been so timely, she doubted she could have lasted much longer. A demon alone was enough of a foe, but a demon with a magical sword was something out of stories. She had been a fool to rely entirely on the element of surprise. To think that the creature would catch her off guard the night she set out to hunt for it. Did it possess some kind of clairvoyance? It had an uncanny knack of predicting her attacks. It went so far as to detect the newcomer’s surprise gambit without breaking stride.

That must be the sword as well. It seemed the blade was more powerful than she anticipated. At this rate, her only chance of survival was to let the newcomer take the fall and flee. Nevertheless, she could not do that. The man had risked his life to save her from the demon. Even if the attack made for an opportunistic getaway, she would not be able to live with herself for taking advantage of it. She let out a sigh. Maybe she and the newcomer together would be a match for the demon.

No, that would not work either. There was no way to counter the demon’s precognition short of synchronizing their attacks. Without any preplanning, that was out of the question. She knew nothing about her accidental companion, and had no way to convey her intentions to him. If she wanted to get out of this alive, and to ensure the survival of her companion, luck was the only option. And she hated relying on luck.

“…hand! Cut off its damn hand!” the newcomer bellowed at her breathily. She started from her reverie to see that the man’s face was beginning to turn a deep purple, and that the demon was slowly turning its attention towards her. It smiled crookedly and beckoned.

“Yes girl,” it cooed. “What do you want?”

Arianna bit her lip. “I want…” she began, her voice trailing off quietly. She hesitated in what she hoped appeared to be a demure manner, taking the time to size up her opponent. Its attention was fully on her now. Had she acted a moment earlier, she would have had time to launch an attack, and possibly cripple the thing. Dammit, why did she hesitate? She glanced at the newcomer. He would not last much longer like that. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath.

“I want your damn sword!” she screamed, rushing headlong into the creature. It turned hastily, unable to bring its sword to bear quick enough to deflect the entirety of her blow. The blades crashed together, with Arianna’s sliding down enough to score the demon’s upper arm. With its body still turned awkwardly away from her, its range of motion was limited. It struck straight out, attempting to use its superior arm length to keep her at bay.

Arianna snatched herself away, meeting the attack with just enough force to keep it from scratching her. She stepped forward, her blade locked on her opponent’s, her body of the opposite side of its sword. The demon finally dropped a gasping Valerius, disengaging with Arianna long enough to bring the rest of his body around. Arianna struck the moment the pressure of its blade lessened. She hacked at its neck, stepping just barely too much into the attack. The demon twisted out of the way, overbalancing her.

It took advantage of her precarious footing to sink its teeth into her proffered shoulder. She shouted in surprise more than pain and elbowed the thing as hard as she could. She caught it in the side, but to little avail. Its teeth dug into the leather over her shoulder, bruising the flesh beneath. It refused to let go, despite Arianna’s haphazard counter, and she panicked.

Screaming, she sliced down with her sword with as much force as she could muster. It slid into the demon’s flesh, cleanly severing the tendons of its wrist. Blood splashed over her face, momentarily blinding her, and the demon roared.

“Get off your ass and kill it!” She leveled her blade at the creature’s neck, heedless of the glowing stone a few inches below.

[Nevermore]

The grip on his throat relaxed and the severed hand dropped to the pavement, spraying cold black blood. It flopped and spasmed like a living thing in its death throes, fingers scrabbling for purchase in the sidewalk's cracks and whipping the bloody stump of its wrist around to paint bloody graffiti on the sides of the nearby hovels. The demon’s shrill scream reverberated through the slums as it recoiled, batting away Arianna’s blade, weaving its own weapon haphazardly through the air as it retreated.

Valerius didn't gave it a chance to recover. He pressed down on it, striking from every side, feinting towards its wounded arm and pivoting to slash at its opposite flank. Slowly, surely, it gave ground. Blood trickled down the cracks in the cobblestone and the creature’s movements slowed, its parries losing their sharpness, and it failed to counterattack whatsoever. Its strange animal mouth opened and closed, moving nigh imperceptibly as it mouthed the incantation to some spell.

The glow in its soul stone had dimmed, the lordling noticed as he locked swords with the beast, twisting his wrist and sending its strange scimitar clattering uselessly to the ground. He detected movement in the fog, nervous chatter, and realized that they’d attracted an audience. That had its benefits, he supposed. Perhaps a few would recognize him, or at least his alias of Caine, and he would get these sorts of commissions more often in the future.

He ducked a strike from its wicked claws reminded himself that he wouldn’t be able to accept any commissions from the family tomb.

He rose from his crouch, slashing upwards at its soul stone. It twisted its torso to absorb the blow with its shoulder, shredding its ragged robes in the process to reveal the emaciated body underneath. Valerius couldn’t fathom how it supported its own weight, much less outmatched both of them until they’d managed to wound it. Bones pushed and prodded the leathery gray flesh like sharp objects in an undersized sack.

It set up a steady rhythm of dodging his attacks while it searched for a way of retrieving its sword. With each exchange, however, it grew more and more sluggish. Before long it was all it could do to protect its soul stone as it retreated further into the alleyway, mouth still working silently. Valerius, however, didn’t intend to let it finish its spell.

“Now!” he yelled as he sidestepped another halfhearted strike. The demon realized its folly with an instant to spare, stepping forward instead of back as Arianna’s sword swept through the air its neck had occupied a moment prior. Rather than decapitating their foe, his partner cleaved through its horns, while Valerius brought his blade down towards its soul stone. He expected no resistance – perhaps a last ditch effort to protect itself with its claws, but those ragged talons provided little defense against tempered steel.

He did not, however, expect the brittle scimitar to stop his short sword a third of the way through the soul stone. The strange rock pulsated as if it sensed danger, blushing deep crimson, as if all the beast’s power flowed there in an effort to seal the wound. Already a jagged crevice in the stone oozed what little remained of the demon’s strength, a discolored pinkish-gray that contrasted with the surrounding scarlet.

Its agonized scream had four layers, shrill and deep and proud and bestial. It stepped backward, dislodging the tip of Valerius’ sword, and with the strength of a cornered animal drove its bony elbow into Arianna’s face. The girl dodged to the left but stumbled back nevertheless, slumping against the alley wall, blood trickling from a shallow cut on her cheek. Their opponent hissed, prodding feebly at the crack in its soul stone with the stump of its severed hand.

Telekinesis, Valerius thought in mute admiration. It knew it would not have the opportunity to retrieve its weapon.

The demon whined pitifully as it staggered back towards the open manhole. Arianna pushed herself to her feet and readied herself for a lunge, but before she could, the demon spun and gave one last roar before hurling itself into the hole. A lingering spell activated as it disappeared into the Radasanthian storm drain and the manhole lid pulled itself along the pavement, grating loudly as it slid into place.

Valerius sighed loudly. Behind him, he heard the sound of footsteps as their audience disappeared back into the fog, along with the occasional groan. Their bloodlust had gone unsated. He slid his sword back into its scabbard and helped Arianna to her feet, wiping away the blood on her cheek with a swipe of his thumb.

“Well, we’ve done a splendid job of mucking it up, my dear. The demon’s gone and retreated back into its lair. Of course, I’m obligated by my contract to give pursuit and finish it off. I assume I can count on you?”

It wasn’t his best lie. The bitch that hired him had abandoned him, and though she supposedly lived nearby, Valerius wasn’t in the mood to track her down. He wasn’t even sure if it would survive the blow to its soul stone, but the boy was a slave to his own curiosity. He ran a hand through his blond hair and winced when it came back red and glistening… he must have hit his head harder against the wall than he thought.

Now that adrenaline wasn’t numbing all of his scrapes and bruises, he did notice a dull throbbing in the back of his skull. He shrugged. His father’s physician could patch that up when he returned home.

He braced himself for the sulfurous stench of the sewers as he hooked one finger inside the manhole and pulled. It lifted easily, but the expected blast of foul-smelling air never came. Instead, he heard the distant sound of running water, as if an underground stream might run through the storm drain. It took him a moment before he realized the difference between ‘storm drain’ and ‘sewer,’ but when it came to him he smiled absently. At least he wouldn’t be slogging through shit and piss to get to his quarry.

“Come on, then,” he called over his shoulder without turning away from the darkness that peered up at him.

“I hope you’ve still got that torch.”

[Sicarius]

A tremor passed through Arianna at the feel of the demon's blood. The thick, ichorous substance chilled her. It dripped down her cheeks, staining her virgin skin. Her vision dimmed and her balance waned. Bile rose in her throat, and the accompanying wave of nausea threatened to steal her feet. She could scarcely breathe without the blood entering her mouth and nose, filling her with its vileness.

A shuddering breath stilled her. She closed her eyes for a moment and steadied herself. She reopened them to find that the fighting had continued through her hiatus. The young man kept the demon on its feet, pushing the offensive. As she watched, a vicarious thrill went down her spine. Something about the man's relentless attack and the demon's pitiful attempts to survive excited her. However, she was not satisfied being a mere bystander.

She rejoined the foray in silence, weaving her blade to catch the demon's mid-strike. Following through on the swing, she battered away at its arm, sacrificing accuracy for sheer volume of attack. As long as her partner continued his assault, she only needed to keep the creature disabled. Considering the current range, the best way to achieve that was a reckless offense of her own. She paced her breathing to the ring of steel on steel, and steadily backed her opponent up.

The creature grunted as it struggled to meet their combined onslaught. The grunts had an odd cadence, but Arianna ignored it. She kept pressing forward, falling into an easy rhythm. By the time she recognized the arcane traces on the demon's chant, it was too late. She barely had time to gasp as it uttered the final syllables.

"Now!" the young man shouted, shaking Arianna back to the battle. She slashed viciously at her opponent, catching it in a brief moment of vulnerability. Instead of meeting flesh as she intended, the demon jolted out of the way, and her blade dug into its horns. She pressed the follow through, cleanly separating the horns from its head.

In the following moments, her partner was able to break through the demon's guard, disarm the beast, and land a solid strike on its chest... or not. Out of nowhere, the demon's blade flew up to divert the worst of the blow, and it ran off.

I knew the sword was magic! A wave of elation passed over her at the confirmation. She was finally following a real lead. She was almost there.

She returned to her senses only to find her partner grandstanding. Apparently she had fallen over during the course of the fight, and her partner had just helped her up. Funny how one glances over certain details. She cleared her throat.

"Yes, yes, of course," she said, forcing a smile. The man's tone irritated her, as did the attitude he assumed towards the crowd. He had spoiled nobility written all over his pretty little face, and he did not even try to hide it. Having been exiled from her mother's court, Arianna held no love for nobles. Their holier-than-thou attitude, their immeasurable gluttony... she hated all of it.

Nonetheless, she found herself following his lead, at least to the demon's "lair." Not that it could even be considered such. It had run back underground from whence it came. If not for the sword the thing had in its possession, Arianna would not dream of following it. But she had come too far to give up now. Sighing, she followed the young man into the manhole, only to be greeted by his voice.

Miraculously, she had remembered to pick up her fallen lantern. Swinging it in front of her, she said, "I'm afraid your hope is in vain." She rolled her eyes. Just a little.

The lantern revealed something beyond her expectations. The "sewer" was no such thing, all spacious caverns and high ceilings. Unless her nose betrayed her, the place smelled faintly of dust and wet mortar, things which she was not accustomed associating with sewage. She uttered a silent prayer of thanks. Everything was turning out to be easier than she had hoped. First the demon came to her. Then a mysterious young man rushed to help her fight it. The sewers the demon fled to turned out to be nothing of the sort, and the chase promised to be clean at the very least.

She smiled. "So, what's your name anyway?" she asked. She was tempted to add a stipulation to the remark, but she refrained. There was no use judging one's nature before becoming acquainted with them. At least, she hoped.