“Duffy…” Ruby sheathed her sword amidst shrill protests and from thin air, produced a violin and bow. “You know those stupid and highly dangerous ideas you’re prone to have?” She shook the violin suggestively.

“I don’t have stupid ideas!” the bard protested.

Their companion rolled his eyes. The road shook as the creature flailed free of the fallen, splintering tree trunk. With a final heave-ho the tree spiralled away, crashing into the dirt and providing an opportune spark of inspiration.

“Oh, you mean those stupid ideas.” He eyed up the convenient ramp up to the creature’s shoulders and sighed.

Sizing up their next challenge, Duffy didn’t fancy his chances leaping from the end of the bough to the shoulders. He needed a little help from his friends.

“Those glowing eyes. Do you think you can give them a bolt or two?” Ruby moved between the electromancer and her brother and played a few notes to warm up. “If there’s anything I’ve learned from centuries of monsters emerging from closets it’s the glowing bits are the weak points.”

“It can’t be that easy, can it?” Duffy started to doubt himself, but produced a dagger from the ether all the same.

A wind rolled down the road, carrying with it the creature’s stench and a portent of doom. The creature clod-thumped the ground, roared so loud the trees shook along the tree line and Ruby’s breasts juddered just enough to remind her she was drastically overdressed.

“Get going Duffy, we’ll come up with the nail in the coffin if you just get it in the box.” She rested the bow against the violin and the golden thread running through the carved wood glowed with white balefire. “Try not to die again.”

Duffy had no intention of doing so, but as he strolled towards the giant a niggling doubt gnawed at the back of his mind. If one of those fists connected with his pretty little face there wouldn’t be much left of him to celebrate. As he closed the gap, sweat poured down his brow in a mix of nerves and exertion. The nerves rose as he cut into each of his shoulder blades with the edge of his blade. A vortex of power burst into being in his heart and from each wound a blooded wing sprouted.

“Whilst my brother serves as a distraction, you and I need to come together and sing a song. What do you say, can you electrify an audience without stripping the flesh from their bone?” Ruby began to play, hoping that the pressure would draw out whatever musical strands wound about the mage’s vocal chords. “Let’s give your talents a little push in the right, eye popping life-saving direction!” She let words fail her and began to play a raucous folk song from the autumnal playbook of Scara Brae.

As she played she watched Duffy mount the fallen trunk and charge. The blooded wings beat in time to every step and at the apex of his climb he launched into the air. They gave him just enough lift to make it to the back of the creature and, rather like a moth hitting a lantern, began to really, really piss it off.