A writhing mass of bandits surged forth through the now open doorway, tripping over each other as they underestimated their space and how close the Guards were. Still wearing their Nightshade black leather armor, they now appeared to be equipped with all manner of implements they were able to salvage from the interior of the warehouse. Metal bars, broken furniture parts, and what looked like leftover tools from when it previously held cattle.
The first into the fray lashed out at the fallen Guard, knocked prone from the explosion of the door. Brief pained yelps were cut short as the flurry of opportunistic blows caught the hapless Guard defenseless. The Captain swore and backed away from the emerging throng of criminals, parrying a swing of a sharpened metal bar as he called out, his voice trembling with rage.
“Cut them down! Patson, call the Beta team and reserves.” A second swing of the makeshift weapon caught his gauntlet, the metallic clang ringing out as another two bandits approached him.
Grugg stood there, shocked. It had been so quiet, and now all hell had broken loose. The growls and shouts of Nightshade and Guard alike, the sound of clashing weapons and armor, wails of the injured, and even some screams and shouts from the civilian onlookers. It was a sensory overload, and his brain spent some extra cycles trying to process it.
[Watch out!]
An eager bandit had taken the lead of the pack, choosing to ignore the dwindling handful of Town Guard and assail the cyclops. With a wild shout, the scrawny, tattooed man swung his weapon in a wide arc. Grugg blocked it with his forearm, and the table leg being used as a club split and splintered in two from the impact. The brief look of shock and disappointment from the goon was all the time he needed, and the Detective grabbed the man’s shoulders with both his hands. A dull crack as he brought his head downwards, knocking the man out cold, eyes rolling back.
Wow, I almost felt that one. We need to help the Captain.
Grugg looked over to see Wanu giving up ground to the Nightshade bandits. Four now surrounded him, and for every parry or block, another would jab at him from an open angle. He was sweating and bleeding from a few small wounds. It would be only a matter of a handful or two of seconds before he would begin to tire against the unrelenting strikes. The single electric-blue eye of the cyclops blazed with purpose, and he strode over.
A second bandit had come to try his hand at dueling with Grugg, but hadn’t expected the advancing pace of the large Detective. The cyclops caught the swing in his hand early before it had time to gain any force, the sharp-bladed metal still biting into his palm and finger. He lifted the weapon higher, putting the man off guard, and slammed his left fist into the open ribcage of the squirming bandit, knocking the wind from him. Grugg advanced as the man fell to the floor, wheezing for air.
A clang as the Captain’s sword is knocked from his hand. Now unable to parry, one of the brutes clobbered him in the breastplate. As he staggered and dropped to the floor, one of them raised a heavy hammer while the rest gloated at the fallen half-orc.
The odd, booming voice echoed around the street, catching the attention of all skirmishers present. Most importantly, the hammer-wielding bandit paused and turned to see where the voice came from. He received the answer to this question in the form of a large, meaty hand enveloping his face. Crack. With a quick twist, Grugg snapped the man’s neck. The attention of the other three Nightshade soldiers assaulting the Captain was now fully on the cyclops, giving Wanu a brief reprieve.
The lunge of a sharpened metal bar caught him in the side, mostly a glancing blow but tearing a gash through his waistcoat and shirt. However, this put the bandit within reach as Grugg grabbed the man by the head. Twist.
Exchanging glances, the two other men dressed in their drab uniforms decided this was not a battle to be won. Taking self-preservation as their new boss, they turned tail to run. The Captain’s sword slashed out from the floor, catching one of the potential escapees in the calf, sending him sprawling into the cobbled street with a thud. Grugg picked the sharp metal bar up off the floor, and with a quick swing of his arm, sent it flying towards the second runner. A scream and a second thud as this bandit also hit the street hard, a metal pole now protruding from his back.
“Necessary force.” Grugg smiled at the Captain, lowering his hand to help him up.
“Necessary force,” Wanu confirmed, with a more grim expression than the cyclops. Although, in fairness, he did have blood running down half his face and was a paler shade of green.
Thunk! Grugg grunted as a sharp pain flared in his back, and turned to see Reggie standing there with that crossbow again. How he had that when the rest of them had to scavenge for scrap melee weapons, the Detective did not know. He was enraged by it, mainly because it really hurt.
“Grugg will break crossbow over tiny, empty head,” he seethed and stomped towards the curly-haired man.
“I d-don’t think you will”, Reggie grinned, despite his face growing pale.
Suddenly a flicker of something caught Grugg’s single eye, and instinctively he threw up both arms like a boxer to protect his face. Warm pain surged across his forearms as they were both slashed deeply, what remained of his suit and shirt shredded in the process. He lowered his arms to see the red lines soaking through the scraps of fabric that still clung to him. There was nobody in front of him though, except for Reggie, about twenty paces off.
[Look at the floor, the shadow!]
Stolen story; please report.
Grugg did, and it took him a second to process what the wizard meant. But once he saw it, it became obvious. As the light rain swept across the street, it would be easy to miss in the low light, but Reggie… his shadow was in the wrong direction compared to everything else. It was looming at an angle towards Grugg and had long, mantis-like scythe arms. It recoiled towards the otherwise unassuming bandit as if preparing to lash out again.
“Reggie is shadow?”
“W-what, you thought it was Frank? Not a v-very good Detective, huh?” A cold smirk crossed the pale Nightshade face, his one eye almost glowing in the low light. Strangely, there was a weird amount of nervousness to the guy, considering he was purporting to be the leader.
“Frank was stinkiest, though,” the cyclops conceded.
Reggie leveled the crossbow and quickly fired a shot off at Grugg, who ducked and dodged to the right side to avoid it. The shadow flashed out across the floor as he maneuvered, and another warm flare of pain spread up his leg, trousers splitting up from his shin to thigh from the sharp blow.
The Nightshade leader took a moment to observe the rest of the small battlefield. It was not looking too great; he had known that an open, public skirmish would be a bad idea. Aside from himself, only three bandits still stood, and there were two Town Guards, the Captain, and this rather annoying cyclops still opposing him. There was a chance backup for the Guard could arrive any minute too.
[Grugg, I’ve not much strength left.]
Reggie turned back to the cyclops, who had been fidgeting with something. “Alas, I must be off now. It’s a s-shame I couldn’t let you join your little r-rat friend.” The bandit clicked his fingers, and the shadow withdrew, pooling at his feet. Gradually, from the bottom of his legs upwards, the Nightshade criminal was enveloped in a dark mist.
“He is in Grugg’s bed; Grugg hopes to be there soon.” A wide but tired grin spread across the cyclops’ face as he walked stiffly towards Reggie, the pain in his leg hobbling him slightly.
“Charming, b-but you won’t see me again. Best hope I don’t f-find you in your bed, catch you unawares.” The sinister look in his eyes combined with his pale complexion made him look ghostly, as the wisps of dark shadow flowed up his chest and arm.
“No more hiding. You are under arrest.” Grugg held out his arm, but it was not his badge grasped in his hand. It was a strange stone with a rune inscribed upon it.
Briefly, the street housing the warehouse became bathed in bright summer sun, blinding anyone caught unaware.
“What w-was-” Reggie began, before finding he could no longer speak, on account of there being a large, strong hand around his neck.
“Reggie has right to remain silent,” Grugg knocked the man in the head with his other fist, knocking him out cold. He then jumped back from the falling figure to observe his shadow. It didn’t appear to move.
“Thanks, Bart. Rest well now,” he murmured to the hat. He unfurled his fist to examine the rune again. Always coming up with new surprises, that wizard was. Grugg felt that he would need to get the dwarven smiths to embed this rune into Thud as well. He sat on the floor, suddenly very tired, and glanced around. The remaining Guard had managed to subdue the last of the bandits; either they had given up or were just eventually outmatched by the better-equipped Alpha team.
A gauntleted hand was placed on Grugg’s shoulder. “You did well there, Detective. Took out half of the goons single-handedly and even managed to restrain the 'true' leader.”
The cyclops looked down at the unconscious boss. He looked so peaceful and innocent like this. It didn’t make much sense to Grugg how he was the bad guy. “Answers and arrests,” he concluded, shrugging and then wincing from the pain of the crossbow bolt still lodged in his back.
“Well said, Grugg,” he grunted, pulling the bolt out of the cyclops before continuing, “You will have the pleasure of questioning him tomorrow. Once we make sure that shadow business is contained and no longer dangerous.” He tapped the withdrawn bolt idly on his plated legs. “You think it was some kind of demon possession? Or arcane familiar? Good hunch on it being inactive when he was unconscious, though.”
If it didn’t work, then the next step would have been to kill the man and see how that fared, he thought, but couldn’t find the energy to say it. It had been the wizard’s idea to use the Light rune to render whatever kind of shadow-magic Reggie had been attempting to pull off, some kind of Invisibility or Teleport, he guessed. Grugg had just provided the physical means to do the needful, but that’s how they worked best.
The sound of footsteps approached as the reinforcements arrived on the scene. The Captain gave him another pat on the shoulder as he walked over to the Guards and started ordering them about, a healer was called for to attend to the wounded, and slowly the criminals were manacled or gotten ready for the morgue.
Grugg looked down at the Nightshade boss again. There was something that didn’t sit right with him still. Much like some of the scratch-built furniture back in his mountain home, the pieces just weren’t aligning properly. A Guard came over to attach some manacles and drag the body away. The dark iron had unusual blue arcane symbols etched around the clasps.
“Anti-magic,” the Guard explained, catching his gaze. “Stops most spell-casting. Like a muzzle for magic-folk.” And with that, he hoisted the young man up and half-dragged him over to a requisitioned wagon from a nearby shop.
Grugg kept his eye on Reggie for every second that he could until, eventually, the wagon rattled out down the street, the criminals all accounted for. All except one.
“Oddly enough, no Frank.” Wanu shrugged, wiping the dried blood from his brow. “Either he escaped in the initial rush, or maybe he is hiding in the warehouse. I’m about to gather the Beta team and scope it out. Howevern, I suggest you get yourself some rest, Grugg. You haven’t moved since sitting down.”
The Captain was right; he was exhausted and needed a good sleep. He nodded and stretched out his hands, standing back up with a wobble.
“Let’s get you patched up at least, don’t worry, medical is part of the benefits,” the half-orc beamed a soft smile, he himself looking like a vacation should be on the cards. He whistled over a healer who had just finished with one of the fallen Guards.
Grugg stood, his one eye half closed, as he enjoyed the slight breeze cooling him. The young and very stressed-looking blonde-haired healer started wrapping his forearms in bandages, adding in some stinging salve to assist their healing. He was going to need to get some bracers if people kept cutting up his arms, he mused sleepily. His stupor suddenly awoken as a sharp female voice rang out from a crowd of milling onlookers.
“Great Mountain! What happened to you?”