A man in heavy plate armor, with drawn sword and unlimbered shield, worked his way through the canyon, surprisingly quiet for that amount of metal. He seemed cautious, but unafraid. The tabard on his chest bore a quartered shield with a bow and sword in opposing corners, marking him as a member of the Bastion. The Bastion was a group supposedly dedicated to the protection of the people, but was mostly shown to be only slightly more moral than your average mercenary. As a whole, The Bastion protected a number of different towns and cities in the area, but charged a heavy price to do so. Most civilians living in their “protectorates” considered them marginally better than the alternatives of rabid monsters or nobility. Their heavy taxation of the citizens was at the highest sustainable rate possible, but so was their defense, evoking the question of how much should someone pay for protection. Their citizens were poor, but safe from rampaging monsters. Less safe from those members of The Bastion that took their taxes in a more direct manner, to which their superiors turned a blind eye.
According to his tabard this particular Bastion member was a Hunter and Soldier. Soldier was the standard requirement that all members of the Bastion had to meet before they were allowed to roam free of their defensive fortifications, identified by the sword in the corner of the shield emblem that all Bastion members bore. Soldiers were the basic offensive arm of The Bastion, focusing on retribution and invasion against humanoids. The bow that pinpointed his membership in the Hunters signified his focus on hunting monsters. The Hunters were more than a little different from the rest of The Bastion, mostly being more independently minded than the others as their work was often solitary in nature. This independence took time to build, however, something this particular member had not yet gained. Without the additional arrows marking his rank amongst the Hunters, or swords for the Soldiers, he was most likely a newer initiate recently released from training. Like new members of any group the world over, he was attempting to prove his worth. Judging by his location, and actions upon exiting the canyon, he had chosen one of the most difficult ways of proving himself. Dragon hunting.
The area he found himself appeared to be a wide curve in the old river that had carved the canyon. Ages past the water had carved through the bedrock of the area, leaving a series of canyons and caves that provided a labyrinthian maze that was home to a great number of monsters. Goblins were a frequent nuisance to nearby towns, resulting in the patrols that had spotted the dragon settling into the area. Upon their return they had sent word to The Bastion, beginning a surge of Hunters descending upon the canyons. None had yet returned with news of success, making him believe he was the first to find the target. He sheathed his sword, crouching behind a boulder to inspect the area.
The other entrance to the widened area had been blocked long ago by the collapse of the canyon wall, leaving the only break in the canyon walls to be the wide, dark mouth of a cave. The cave entrance was in the southern wall, leaving it shaded from the sun, but he swore it was darkened further by the sheer malice of the creature that dwelled within. His eyes darted around the area, searching out signs of the beast, as well as the best place from which to challenge it. Reports had stated that it was a fire dragon, which matched the burnt areas of the canyon wall. Confirmation meant that despite the fire resistance enchantments on his armor and shield, he most definitely did not want to fight in the cave. Wide open spaces with slightly elevated areas to keep him out of the sea of flames that would pour off the shield from the dragon’s breath would be best. His eyes lit up at spotting the jagged section of stone that rose from the canyon floor like a spear head leveled at the intruder.
As he marched to the spar of stone he tightened the strap holding his shield to his arm and adjusted his grip on its handle. A dragon would truly test his grip, so it was best to be prepared. Drawing his sword, he briefly flared its piercing enchantment as he thrust it upright into the ground. His helmet followed shortly after, being set upon the hilt of the sword, as he shook out his golden locks of hair. He paused, reviewing the upcoming battle in his mind, preparing. He patted the potions arrayed on his belt, and planned out the order of his buffs. If the dragon hadn’t yet noticed his presence, then he would need to announce himself, which would leave him time to cast the skills and drink the potions that would buff him to higher strength. In a battle such as this, every second of duration on his buffs was important, so he waited to maximize their potential. A final deep breath, posing heroically as he faced down his nemesis. There might not be anyone closer than his retainers left two turns back, but it was important to have the facts right when retelling the story.
Sliding one leg back he raised his right hand, summoning a spear of shining golden light. Once more he shook his head, his long golden locks blowing straight back in the wind. He knew he looked like a knight out of a fairy tale story, so now it was time to issue his challenge. His mouth opened, sucking in a deep breath to bellow out his challenge, along with an oversized crossbow bolt that punched through the back of his mouth with enough force to separate his skull from his spine. He remained alive only long enough to realize it must not have been his story he was posing for, and then the light left his eyes. His spatial skill collapsed at the same time, spewing forth his accumulated wealth like a piñata at a child’s birthday party, only loot instead of candy. Weapons, armors, books, potions, monster corpses, and more splashed across the stone and sand of the canyon floor.
On the canyon ridge above the cave a man shook his head with a chuckle. He spoke to the empty air like it was a friend, “Why do these idiots all do exactly the same thing every single time? Can’t claim to hate how useful it is for me, but I can’t stand shoddy work.” He patted the massive arbalest he was partially laying atop fondly, then rolled to unload the one next to it. “I’ll never stop thanking them for taking their helmets off. The whole suit of armor is worth far more with the helmet intact, and without a giant hole in the chest. Have to remember to thank The Kid for these beauties when I get back.” Disarming of miniature ballista finished, he rose to his feet, and stretched. A dagger appeared in his hand as if by magic, then started dancing around his fist as he unleashed a feral smile, “Well. Time to save a maiden in distress.”
His eyes and voice hardened as he hollered towards the canyon floor, “Gather it all up, and put it where it belongs. Don’t cut the armor straps this time. After that, he’s all yours.” Not waiting for an answer, he flicked a tarp over the top of his arbalests, and started running. At his speed it wasn’t far to his target, but he was forced to detour slightly to get past the first bend in the canyon. Shortly he spotted the marker on the lip of the canyon that marked the location of the dead man’s retainers, and slowed to a silent stalk that turned into a belly crawl before he was silhouetted against the skyline. A small hand mirror was inched over the edge in the shadow of a nearby boulder allowing him to see the camp below. Two men dicing near the small fire, another sleeping, and a woman huddled against the wall with a mortar and pestle. Alchemist, eh? Guess that explains all the potions. He tilted the mirror side to side searching for more people. The marker indicated this was all of them, but he was still alive because he was cautious about some things. The sinister smile that started spreading across his face indicated that caution was about to vanish as he inched backwards from the edge.
Unlike the knight he had so recently murdered, the man didn’t need to check his gear as it was all arranged in such a way that he could always feel each individual piece was in place without having to check it over with his hands. When he was far enough from the canyon he ducked into a runner's start, throwing knives glinting in his hands. Then he was off at a dead sprint to the canyon. He didn’t slow down, hesitate, stop, or jump when he got to the edge, instead he purposefully fell forward, simply kicking against the face to rocket himself towards the opposite face. As he shot through the air he whipped the two blades he had drawn towards the sleeping man, then twisted to allow his legs to absorb the shock of hitting the other wall of the canyon. Reorienting himself to point straight down, he had just enough time to see the woman look up as the throwing knives killed the sleeping man. She had better hearing than the dicing men, as they noticed nothing, but she still didn’t know what the noise had been. Knives dropped into each of his hands again, and he kicked off the wall towards the floor. Glowing blue runes made of mana flickered to life at the bottom of his throwing knives before they were launched at the men dicing. As they left his hands they turned to blade tipped lightning bolts that punched into the skulls of both men.
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Twisting, he rolled himself around just in time to slam into the ground in a perfect three point landing, broad brimmed hat held behind and above him in his off hand. He waited a moment, but when applause wasn’t incoming, he simply stood and slipped his hat back onto his head. With his broadest, and warmest smile, and a tip of his hat he said, “These fellows seem dead tired of slaving away guarding you, so how about we escape to a better respite?”
As her mouth worked soundlessly, he took the time to study her. The shackles that adorned her wrists and ankles were ample evidence of her slavery, if the filth, bruises, and threadbare smock she was dressed in didn’t get the point across. The orange and black stripes in her hair, tail and ears gave away her association with the Beastkin tribes, most likely something tiger adjacent. There were other felines on Mantra with the same coloring so it wasn’t a guarantee. Sadly, she had a number of breaks in the tail that hung limp along one leg, and there was a chunk missing from one of her pointed ears atop her head. Her hair was somehow actually dirtier than the rest of her, leaving him slightly confused if it was supposed to be brown with orange and black, or virtually anything else. Even as emaciated, disheveled, bruised, and unwashed as she was, none of it could hide that she would be a rather attractive woman in better condition. A brief flash of rage welled up within Dix as he contemplated the tortures he would have subjected her captors to if he hadn’t killed them so quickly.
The woman was still stunned by the reversal of her fortunes so he quickly popped open her fetters. Maybe another bad pun was in store. People who could still laugh at terrible humor were obviously still people. Captivity had a way of stripping away those things that made people people. No civility, no cooperation, no empathy, no humor. To break them from the cycle, a reminder was needed. Dix found treating someone as a cross between long lost family and a little old lady he was shamelessly flirting with seemed to strike the correct balance. Either that, or his particular brand of idiocy was just so incongruous that it was impossible to deny. Hiking his thumb over his shoulder he asked, “You aren’t tied to any of these fellas are you? None of them are the old ball and chain? Or have you just been hanging out?”
He was holding her hands loosely, slowly spreading them farther out than she could have possibly done while shackled. She groaned as her muscles stretched for the first time in far too long. Seeming startled by the noise she jerked her hands free, amber eyes with a vertically slit pupil widened and locked onto his own. She gave a tentative smile, and then started giggling. She stumbled forward, staggering into him as she tried to desperately crush him with a hug, laughter turning to sobs as reality finally caught up. Dix barely managed to catch her as she passed out almost instantly. He chuckled to himself, hoisting her up into a princess carry, “Yup. Another woman swooning over me. Still got it.”
He released the runes for a number of different healing spells, all on the slower end, as well as a smattering of others that should help sustain her while she healed. He’d need to get quite a bit of food into her before he could do some serious healing, but this would take care of the immediate needs for now while he got back to camp. His only real hope was that she’d be better company than he had had for the last month or so, mostly consisting of monsters and the dead.
A couple hours later she woke in a fair sized tent with a sign attached to the ceiling where it was the first thing she saw. You are FREE! The memory swiftly came back, making her blush at how she had passed out on her savior. She saw a fair sized basin of steaming water near some towels and clothes, and headed over to get clean for the first time in ages.
Sometime later when she poked her head out of the tent she saw her rescuer cooking over an open flame. He flipped some meat on a pan, then stood to greet her. Another tip of his hat as he offered her his hand, a warm smile upon his face. “Name’s Dix. Glad you made it up in time for lunch, I was worried I would have to eat it all myself.”
Slightly nervous, she placed her hand in his, unsure of her own expectations. He simply shook it gently, and then let her snatch it back. “T - Theresa,” she blushed as she stuttered over her own name.
Dix gestured at the log across the fire from where he was working on lunch. “There’s no need to be nervous, although I am aware you only have my word for that. I would normally take you back to civilization immediately, but I’m on the job out here for a little while longer. So until we head back, I just need a conversational partner. It gets lonely out here, even with the endless training.”
He studied her again as she carefully sat on the log, her eyes lowered from his own but constantly scanning his body language and the area. She looked to be roughly the same physical age as himself, late teens, maybe early twenties. He handed a mug of broth around the fire to her. “This should help a bit. It’s just broth, but you need something lighter first before we get to the more solid foods. The drain from the healing needs more food in you before it can really get to work.” She took it carefully, giving it a cautious sniff before slowly starting to sip at it. He waited for her to finish before asking another question. He knew it would hurt, and seemed insensitive, but the sooner he knew the quicker he could help. “Could you tell me how long you’d been held?”
A shudder wracked her body, and she dropped the mug on the ground before almost collapsing in on herself. A quick flick of his fingers sent a small burst of air to slow the landing of the mug so it didn’t break. She slowly rocked back and forth, arms desperately wrapped tight around herself. He patiently waited, not pushing, knowing she needed to work through it herself first before he could help. It wasn’t his first experience with trauma. Eventually she spoke, shocking him slightly as he recognized the accent, “It… It’s been over a month, but… I - I don’t even know where I am, or what’s going on. All they wanted me to do was more and more Alchemy, but the threats were…” As she broke off into sobs once again, Dix was immediately around the fire and holding her gently as she wept into his shoulder.
“Shhh, shhh. I know. I get it now. Southern girl right?” She jerked against his shoulder, but didn’t stop crying. He gently rubbed circles on her back, speaking in a low, gentle voice. He was aware of the habits some communities had when dealing with people they considered to be interlopers on their world. Work based slavery was actually one of the milder options, death being most common. The worse options didn’t bear thinking about. “I’m originally from Seattle myself. They most likely wiped a number of memories from you, but it’s not anything too important. The spell doesn't work on our original memories from Earth, but it does clear out everything since. That means you’ve only lost things like your capture and interrogation, which were sure to be awful. On the other hand, you also lost the tutorial, and the instructions on how to use the system. Let me grab our lunch, and we can sit up on that hill to enjoy the view while I walk you through it. OK?”
He felt her nod against his chest, so he gently pulled away, tucking a cleaning rag into her hands as he did. He kept talking as he plated the food, and grabbed a waterskin. “I’m out here on guard duty, so I’ve got to keep an eye on my charge. It’s mostly just a precaution, as my arrangements should be more than sufficient. Never hurts to double check things though, and the view is terrific. Head for the chairs up on that hill there.” He pointed off to her side a bit, directing her as he moved to her side to help her if she needed it.
She had her head down, concentrating on where she was placing her steps, so she didn’t immediately notice what rose into view as they crested the hill. She turned as she heard the clunk of plates hitting the small table, then looked out over the viewing area at his gesture. It took a few seconds for things to register. The view of the canyon from the top revealed it was far more than a single canyon, it was instead a massive series of cracks inflicted upon the surface of the planet. Amazing as that was to see, it was the creature laying at the bottom of the cliff face she stood upon that took her breath away.
It was so large she couldn’t accurately estimate its size, and her tired mind could barely process the details. Scales, muscles, wings, and teeth. A creature out of myth and legends, dreams and nightmares. Beauty and terror all in one. “D- Dragon!” Her voice came out as a terrified scream disguised as a whisper, her eyes once more rolling up as she fell backwards into his arms unconscious.
Dix chuckled. “Yup, I definitely still got it. Guess I’ll tell her the story when she wakes up.”