My front door finally swung open, no thanks to the numerous locks. I shut it behind me and redid the myriad security before dropping my stuff off, de-shoeing, and heading for the bathroom. A quick freshening up followed before I hit the bedroom. Matti was there, laying in her nightie with Varia curled up on her belly, judging by the lump under the covers. Not a muscle twitched, not even a breath, deathsleep.
I paused, then snuck off to the crafts room. A minute later, I returned. Looming over Matti. I poked her, garnering no response. Carefully, I slid the blankets off her. My hand moved over her chest, placing the measuring tape on one shoulder and obtaining the first of many numbers. Bet you thought that was going somewhere else for a moment, didn’t you? Perv.
Height, length of leg, length of arm, circumference of neck, even her waistline went in my bedside notebook. She didn’t wake for any of it. Deathsleep really lived up to its name as I lifted her butt to get the tape around her waist. It was honestly a bit creepy as she didn’t show any signs of life; I’d be freaking out if she wasn’t… y’know, undead. It was certainly enough to wake Varia up, earning me a scarf to go with my undies.
With my covert operation a success, I hopped in bed and shut my eyes.
……
I awoke to the sound of… snuffling, I guess you could call it. Immediately following that, I felt 4 fangs press into my shoulder, though with so little force that the long-johns completely shrugged it off. My head turned and I peeked an eye, seeing Matti sound asleep—albeit, in a more alive-ish manner—right at my shoulder, having a good little gnawing session in her sleep. A simple flex of the shoulder got it out of her jaw, then I kicked her shin under the covers.
Matti awoke with a start, a snore turning to a surprised snort. She blinked the morning blur away and her face showed some surprise.
“Oh, welcm hom,” she slurred groggily.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” I greeted. Then I faced the alert ferret on my chest. “Varia, get her. No mercy.”
A sudden air of concern came over Matti as she tried to puzzle out what I meant. This was dispelled when Varia hissed a little warcry and leapt at Matti’s face, proceeding to scramble all over her body at high speed. It is one of the most brutal ticklings that can be experienced. She went from groggily laying there to writhing around the bed trying and failing to catch that fast little ferret.
After a good 10 seconds, Varia scurried off, surely feeling a massive boost to her already massive ego. It wasn’t every day that she got to out-speed a royal vampire and get away with a full-on tickle attack… assault? Invasion? War? Devastation? Devastation. Tickle devastation. At the same time, Matti was pouting rather adorably, all the way through our morning bath and going until breakfast.
I had some cereal as she described a more concerning interaction with Pokle. Long story, basically girl drama with a twist. (Vampires can’t just do girl drama, they have to be extra.) It sounded like a situation best resolved with some apologies and good, honest conversation. So I made a mental note to invite Pokle over for dinner and a talk. That led me to wonder what I should make, eventually landing on a low-country boil.
That, of course, made for a shopping list. To bring Matti’s spirits up, I decided to take a day to show her around town a bit more, and do some errands of my own. She was more than happy with that, dressing up and turning bauble brunette in a flash. We were off shortly thereafter.
Our first stop was the smithy. It was the best in town and still rather quaint by most standards, but don’t let looks fool you! The Golden Point blueprint stocks and magic item needs had single-handedly taken him from average smith to capable adventurer-armer in 2 years flat. Forgemaster Pepsum was his name. It always makes my lips bunch up like it’s funny, despite not being particularly… well, anything.
And there he was, out front and hammering away in full public view! Not the safest or smartest strategy, but the best marketing one can get without giant, illuminated golden letters. (But what sort of asshat would do that?) He picked me out of the crowd in an instant, and I can’t blame him for knowing his golden goose on sight.
“Dennis! My boy!” He called. “What can I do for you today?”
I waved as we closed into a more reasonable conversing distance. “G’day, Peppy. I’ve got a special order for you today.”
He looked down at the half-finished stick of steel, only partway through vaguely metamorphizing into a sword, then stuck it in the forge. “Well, I’m all ears, then. First, who’s the lady?”
Matti waved somewhat awkwardly. “I’m Matti. We’re together.”
Pepsum nodded. “Ahh, yeah, GCs don’t really date their age,” he muttered, then refocused with a clap. “Let’s see this special order, then!”
I brushed off the comment completely; what was I going to do, tell him we both age slowly? I plunked an E-D sack onto his tool table. “I need the contents of this sack ground up and forged into metal strips. Have your apprentice fetch the plans for ACR plates and build them to spec. It’s a tough job, so I’ll come back tomorrow once you’ve reviewed the designs. We’ll discuss finer details then. And if you back out, I’ll still pay you for the material refinement services.”
“Sounds good to me. Brekle! Write this man up a receipt!” he bellowed into the interior of the smithy.
His apprentice scurried out and jotted a writ of receipt that I could use to sue the shit outta them if they lost the crafting material dropped exclusively by an endgame superboss. Luckily, I’ve never actually needed to do that, since most everyone doesn’t know how to pick it out, or even why they should, since it’s so stinkin’ rare. Nonetheless, T.B.V., trust but verify. Pepsum opened the bag to check the contents, nodding as he removed a piece of paper to look under it.
“Black, hard, brittle? Looks pretty thin, so it shouldn’t be too tough to work. What’s this about, though?” he asked, glancing up from the stock of carapace to the letter. “To: Mattirina… that’s for you then, Miss?”
My eyebrow raised and Matti was briefly taken aback, then nodded. “Oh, um, yes,” she stammered whilst accepting the letter, looking at it a moment then promptly pocketing it in her day cloak. “Thank you. It must have been misplaced.”
He nodded. “Alright then. We’re all busy, so let’s get on with our days.”
“I’ll hop to it if you will, Peppyman!” I goodbyed with a little extra helping of dad energy.
We were off into the streets for the markets when Matti elbowed me softly. “Why didn’t you say she wrote me back?” she teased, except it was the kind of teasing that means she’s annoyed, for anyone who doesn’t speak subtext.
I shrugged. “I didn’t think she did. Must have hid it in there to save any potential embarrassment from explaining that she actually responds to fan mail.”
Matti tapped her chin. “Hmm. Lazy, cunning, and self-serving. It sounds like her.” She looked over. “Is that a thrift shop?”
Umm, let’s skip forward, like, 2 hours.
……
“And then I thought we could finish the day unwinding with this!” Matti explained, excitedly handing me a quest flier.
I accepted it after I finished selecting corn cobs. “Bandit camp… for a date? Are you sure?”
She grinned wide. “Absolutely. It will be wonderfully fun.”
I shrugged and dropped some coins on the counter of a mildly-confused farmer. “Well, if you’re into it then so am I. Tonight’s fine with me, if you agree to that dinner with Pokle.”
Matti clammed up slightly. “Alright.”
After a little sideways glance, I handed her the basket and followed my nose to the spice stands (but alas, I could no longer buy garlic). We soon acquired all the necessary meats and vegetables, along with the supplies for our coming date. Matti insisted on making our dinner, so I let her grab what she needed whilst I split off for a little business on the side.
I waltzed into the Crossed Needles and announced myself with a “Yo, Shminy!”
“Just put whatever needs mending on the table, I’ll get to it in due time,” Mr. Shminy drawled without looking over his shoulder.
He sure knew it was me, but I wasn’t there on 100% routine business. “Actually, I have something a little special going on today. Would you be game for a fur coat?”
The older seamster paused his work and gears started spinning in his head. Not making plain clothes for the average folk? Not fixing all the little fabric damage for everyone ever? Sold! His wrinkly butt was over in a… flash, relatively speaking. I produced the acceptably-tanned sturmfleder pelt and the page of measurements I took.
“Waddya think? Take this black pelt and make it into a nice gothic noble’s coat? I think that’s within your skillset.”
He stroked his short-yet-dense salt and pepper beard. “Hmm. It’s a good material, preserved acceptably. If you want it nice, it will need re-treating and lots of new material. Have you decided on a price range and color scheme?”
I tapped the table for a moment. “Umm, high hundreds, grey and black, a little silver in there, but understated in color and make up for it with very nice tailoring and geometrics. How about that?”
Shminy nodded. “200 down and I’ll get started.”
I slapped the coins on the counter and got my gosh-darn receipt. “I look forward to the final product.”
……
Whilst Matti dutifully assembled a picnic basket, I decided to knock a little something off the to-do list. Following my unceremonious eviction from the kitchen (insert ‘wOmEN’ joke here) I was in the stable, knocking on a solid, sleeping horse statue. Pyroshir animated from his perfect stillness and shook himself awake.
“Wasuhh, Bossman?” he greeted with that deep, sexy voice.
“Keepin’ my promise to Cam.”
He tilted his head. “Maaan, you sure? I knows you two’s homies, ‘n Cam is ballin’ ‘n shit, but you don’t gotta do this.”
I leaned against the wall. “But that’s the spell talking. I stopped to think about it, and now I’m all emotionally invested with, like, a moral compass and stuff.”
“Brotha, Imma live foreva, respawn if I get iced, and only work for you a couple… centuries? That’s nothin’ donchu worry ‘bout me, homeslice.”
A finger traced around my temple as I switched angles. “Sure, it’s just a blip in the timeline for you, but I am looking at owning a slave for the rest of my life. The more I think about it, the more no-bueno it is. I want my youtube drama exposé video-essay’s runtime to be under 20 minutes, thank you very much.”
Pyroshir blinked for a moment. “I have no clue watchu just said, but I fucks with it. I guess it’s your face and your conscience, so if you gotta do it, you gotta do it. What’s the plan?”
I held my arms akimbo. “Well, we need a wizard of significant power. I don’t really have a list of those I’d call friends, and they usually want something in return for their trouble.”
“I mean, what would they get paid in otherwise, exposure?”
I raised a finger. "Shush. This leads me to our last talk in here. How about that wizard with the I.D. Monster spell? He might consider time spent interacting with you payment enough, and he’s strong enough to maintain a vital spell service, so… why not him?”
He tilted his head a moment. “Dude’s kinda hyper…”
“Believe me. If I knew a wizard that was both powerful, and not abnormal in any way, I’d’ve picked him. But I don’t, cuz that’s about as hypothetical as a 5th-dimensional dark matter jacuzzi. And since I know you’ll defer to me on it anyway, we’re calling the I.D. guy.”
At that, I cast the spell without any objections. Indeed, it tried, failed, crashed out, and called the admin to come fix its boo-boo. A moment later, he picked up, not recognizing me.
“Who’s broken it this time?”
I waved at the little crystal ball projection in my left hand. “Hi, repeat customer here. I don’t want to alarm you, but I have a jet-black flaming horse and I want–”
“YOU! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME! YOU FIND ONE OF THE RAREST, MOST ELUSIVE CREATURES AND YOU DISREGARD MY DESIRE TO–”
“STOP!” I barked. “Dude, just stop. You were too excited last time and I didn’t want that hyperfocused wizard stuff in my life. I still don’t, but I’m willing to arrange something if you’re able to stay calm.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
A myriad of emotions were playing across his face as he recollected himself and immediately focused on his goal: Cool horse, meet!
“Very well, good sir. I understand your concern and will eagerly arrange whatever is necessary and reasonable for this. But time is short on this spell. Please contact me at my stone number, it’s–”
Poof
Aaand the spell ended. I looked at Pyroshir, who blinked twice, then we both threw our heads back and cackled. Once the moment passed, and there was nobody in the room laughing at the powerful wizard’s expense, I cast the spell again. He reappeared with a relieved expression on his face.
“Oh, thank goodness. My number is up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right…”
……
Well, it took a little bit to hash out, but I got… most of what I wanted. Nothing tangible yet, but we had a calendar-date appointment, and that’s good as gold once you’re in your 40s, like myself. Honestly, it was preferable to just get it set up for later, since, y’know, date. It also gave Pyroshir a chance to de-stress after the call; he didn’t really like the guy very much. We just had one more thing to grab before we could go.
“What made Grif take his first flight, though?” I asked as I followed Matti down the hall to retrieve said grump.
She straightened up. “I was taking him for a walk, and he saw a chicken.”
Nothing was said for a moment. I raised a brow. “That’s it. That’s the whole story?”
“Yes. Were you expecting more?”
I sucked air for a moment. “Nah.”
The latch turned in my hand and I swung the door open. Right then, a bolt of black lightning shot into my chest and dug its little claws into my damn shirt. I really should have flinched, but Grif… tolerates me to the point of no face removal. I scritched his head and moved him to my shoulder.
“Who’s a cute little murder machine, you are! Have you been good to mama? She says you have!”
……
It was a lovely afternoon overall. The early fall (not autumn, autumn is for pretentious people) sun was shining, the trees were just starting to turn a shade other than green, and the temperature was just… mm-hmm! We rode along on Pyroshir, the reins in Matti’s hands since it was her date and she’d picked the locations. Horse homie didn’t mind, since he was rather interested in what sort of date we... specimens would enjoy.
Our first stop was the Rodenfields, a place named for, well, the rodents. Matti steered us off the road to a nice little tree-free hillock, where we dismounted. Grif was enamored by the views, and Varia was just being my scarf whilst remaining within reach of Grif at all times like the good attentive auntie she was.
Matti gestured about. “First, a play date for the kids!”
She produced a whistle shaped like a raptor's beak and blew a shrieking cry of a tone. Moments later—almost from nowhere—a local brown-toed hawk came to land on her forearm. She glanced to me.
“Oh Griffy!” she called out, catching his attention.
Once he noted her, rather than the particularly threatening bird, she cast the hawk out and it dove for the fields. It lined up and struck a mouse that I had not even seen, returning moments later to perch on her arm and dine on its prize. Grif seemed quite interested, and once the hawk was dismissed, he could focus fully on the fields. I plucked him from my shoulder and put him on my hand, fully intending to be his catapult.
After a few moments, he spotted a target and started the butt-wiggle, which was my cue to wind up and chuck him. He was smart enough to capitalize on it, though not well-timed enough to spring at the opportune moment. I saw his legs go straight shortly after he’d already left my hand. Undeterred, he proceeded into a dive, overshot, tried to swoop up and around for a second pass, ran out of speed, and unceremoniously nosed into the ground.
We were a bit frozen on the hill... until he sprung up and shook his head. Grif elected to run back but quickly got on my hand again. He was so determined, it was adorable.
14 attempts later…
He got a mouse! We’ll just ignore the part where it took almost an hour, or that Varia had to start invading burrows to flush out new targets, or that it wasn’t even big enough to feed him completely. All you need to know is that he caught a mouse and he was proud of it. Of course, I still described the rest, because it was tragically hilarious.
Once he viciously, thoroughly, excessively tore apart the mouse and downed every last bit, he was tired and hungry, and therefore grumpy. Matti solved that with a treat and some snacks for him, making him just tired, so he balled up to nap after being toweled off. Thus, we headed for our next stop.
……
A few miles over from the fields was a nice cliff with a view of the valley. We took the path up and found a nice flat spot to unroll a blanket and set up our picnic dinner. Matti produced our appetizers of mini sandwiches, which we would toast over a small fire courtesy of Pyroshir. I had a mozzarella and tomato between sourdough, as well as a duck with orange sauce in a flaky dinner roll. Matti had beef and rye for herself, and we split some fresh-baked spiced chips with cayenne. (Crisps, for the Brits. Also, my condolences.)
Then the main course was schnitzel with oniony mashed potatoes and asparagus with lemon. I thought I was completely unable to take in any more food, but then she topped it all off with some goddamn strawberry sorbet.
“How did you make all this in two hours?” I asked as I paused to prevent brain freeze.
She shrugged with a smirk. “Some planning, a little determination, and a few pieces of magic cookware of my own to supplement your capable collection. The speed of a deadly, blood-sucking monstrosity may have helped as well,” she added with a sip of her ‘wine’.
I nodded. “Well color me impressed. I would have been happy with a turkey sandwich and a granola bar. But you really went all-out, Matti.”
Her smirk grew into a soft, appreciative smile. “My sisters always said that, if I wanted to keep a lover, the easiest, largest hook was to floor them with excellent sex. Blow their mind, make them look forward to every tumble. Lo and behold, the first man I even consider trying it on doesn’t even want sex at all! So I took a different approach.”
I gazed out to the sunset, seeing Grif clumsily riding the late evening updrafts. “They always said the fastest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
Matti licked a drop of strawberry from her finger with a snicker. “Reminds me of a feeding seminar I attended. ‘Fuss-less Blood’. This quote always stuck with me: ‘His stomach will bring him to you, his penis will ensure your privacy to drink.’” She leaned back on the blanket. “It was quite informative on how to stay fed and unnoticed at the same time.”
I nodded. “Mmm. Morbid.”
“But true!”
“I didn’t dispute that part.”
……
My full stomach was like a pendulum on a rubber band, dipping down and rebounding upward with every step Pyroshir took. I was rather grateful for Matti’s continuing insistence on… we’ll call it driving. It really freed up my brain to focus on not vomiting all her time and effort onto the roadside. I put a mental note to have the chat about ‘eyes bigger than stomach’ and whatnot.
The scene itself was cool and calm. Grif was sleeping in his E-D playpen carrier, Varia was keeping my neck warm, again, and Matti was taking us to start our last big activity.
‘What did she possibly come up with to cap off this lovely date?’ you might wonder.
Murder.
Now, it might be a bit of a shock, but vampires like to kill things. I know, big revelation, world-shattering and stuff. Well, after going undercover for so long, she hadn’t slain a soul in months. That meant the itch was returning, that niggling little urge to tear flesh from bone and bathe in what flows from every wound. It is rather fortunate that she is well-behaved and possesses laudable levels of self-control.
And we were off to help her scratch that itch with a cute team-building exercise. One bandit camp takedown mission. Speaking of the devil, we were moments away from riding headlong into the highwaymen detachment. I’d let you guess from scratch, but I’m a nice guy, so I’ll tell you there were seven, wearing dark greens, browns, and blacks. They had hoods, crappy weapons, crossbows, and a small little roadblock that wouldn’t stop anything with an ounce of determination.
One of them stepped forward as we came to a stop. Tension hung in the air as it grew quiet. The rest were poised to strike, though they knew not what danger had graced their presence.
“It’s a bit late to be riding by your lonesome, Sweetheart,” the lead bandit greeted smugly. “You never know what sort of dangerous types you’ll meet this time of night.”
Calmly, Matti panned her vision left to right, taking note of each and every combatant. Then her lethal gaze fell on the greeter.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Right as she said that, a former friend of his tackled him from behind, and a similar scuffle took place in the rear guard. Matti vanished into mist, reforming a quarter second later behind a shocked bandit and running him through each lung with her dual hemorrhagic long daggers. She bashed him forward and leapt through the air to dropkick the nearest foe in the face, bouncing off him backward and cartwheeling onto her feet.
To my right, the greeter punched his hypnotized mate, snapping him out of it. The two scrambled up and the greeter charged me. I raised my tomb sword as one of Matti’s daggers embedded itself into the head of the former-hypno. Once he closed the distance Pyroshir kicked the greeter in the nuts, then ate his sword right out of his hand. Tasty metal. I gave him a quick slice of the tomb sword to the head. The vorpal beam went in and diced up his gray matter. A nice, instantaneous death.
I looked back to see Matti charging the final three, leaving behind a coup de grâced bandit in her wake. One raised his crossbow, earning him a dagger thrown directly into his eye socket. As he crumpled, the last combatant freed himself from the grasp of the still-hypnotized fool trying to restrain him. He raised his sword and buckler as she pounced, taking him to the ground, where she raked her claws across his face and chest. He swung and she zipped back, standing over him.
With one blindingly-fast motion, she stomped his knee, reversing the joint with a crunch and causing him to scream, and scream, and scream until the wind was gone from his chest and he passed out from the pain. When he too was still, Matti straightened her back and retracted her blood-dripping, inch-long claws into her fingers. She drew a deeply satisfied breath.
Then, her head swiveled slowly to the last bandit standing, a blank expression on his face as he stood motionless. His eyes were empty, behind them screamed his true self, locked away in the prison of a body being utilized by someone else. Matti beckoned him, and he obeyed.
“Remove your hood,” she ordered calmly.
He did so, and, well, killing is hungry work. She bit. She drank. He died. It took a while; he was a raisin by the time she released him. His lifeless form crumpled to the ground. Matti raised her hands. Both knives flew free of their victims and landed effortlessly in her palms. She swung them wide and downward, causing all the blood on her clothes to magically fly off her garb. Then she sheathed her weapons and spun on her heel, walking back to me. She had quite a smile on her face.
“Now that… that was fun.”
I slow nodded as she hopped back in the saddle. “Brutal too. I... we two got… one.”
“One is more than none,” she remarked, flicking the reins.
……
We were back on the blanket in a little field away from trouble, chilling for a few minutes. Matti was pointing to various constellations and stars, telling lore about each one. I pretended like it wasn’t the sort of thing that made me mash 'A' to skip dialog. We only got about 2 quiet minutes before Pyroshir spoke up.
“So are we just not talkin’ ‘bout the fax we murkin’ peeps now? I thought we wuz pests only.”
I looked over at him. “Bandits aren’t people.”
Pyroshir balked. “Say whaaaaat? Is this dis-cri-mi-nation?” he asked, indignantly hitting each syllable.
Matti raised her head. “Yeah, what do you mean by that, Dennis?”
I put some hands up. “Wait, lemme explain,” I started, sitting up. “So, basically, bandits have to come from somewhere, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“But that’s the problem! We GCs have tried to end the bandit threat permanently, like, a dozen times. I read the reports over at the clubhouse and it’s actually fascinating. You see, only 10% of all bandits can be tracked back as members of society. The rest have no known town of origin, no observable familial ties, and very little connection to a criminal underground!”
She tilted her head. “But… where do they come from, then? And how do they function?”
I overturned my hand. “That’s the thing! A few hundred years ago, a band of GCs quarantined a whole forest under a barrier bubble with only 2 points of entry. No invisibility, full records of who entered and exited, anti-disguise wards… they cleared the whole forest of 3 bandit camps and then waited. The security remained and when they came back a month later… boom! A whole-ass new camp. No tunnels, no teleportation, no nothin’. They just appeared there.
“The fae don’t claim them, the Hells deny receiving any souls coinciding with the times of their deaths, and that’s not even going into the research of what they actually do with the crap they steal, or how many of them look suspiciously similar to deceased bandits. It’s a whole thing. Bloody respawning mobs, man.”
Matti quirked an eyebrow, then flashed a toothy smile. “Bloody indeed.” She sighed. “It does sound strange, and I believe you are exonerated from the label of ‘bigot’... for now.”
I nodded appreciatively, then turned to Pyroshir. “Well, waddya think?”
He shook his mane. “I think you said it like that just to start shit maaaaan. Coulda put it a million ways, and you picked ‘bout the worst one possible, dawg.”
I laid back down. “Fair enough. I guess the edgy teen leaked out a bit.”
We stargazed a few minutes more, then Matti sat up. “Alright, that should be long enough for him to have crawled back.” She rubbed her hands together.
“Let’s go follow a trail of bloodcrumbs.”
……
I followed behind Matti, guiding Pyroshir through the woods as my bloodhound of a girlfriend followed her nose toward the target of the night. She halted. She turned. She scanned. She moved. It was predatory behavior, to say the least. Honestly, it was mesmerizing to watch, and very nice to not be on the receiving end. We moved quietly, relying on the moonlight to guide us.
And then, we saw it.
There was light up ahead.
Matti crouched lower, skulking ahead with her senses alert to the slightest hint of prey. Tree to tree she darted, the eagerness for the kill evident in her stride. She raised a pale hand to me and I stopped. There I waited, mounted and ready to charge. Her form vanished into the night air, gone for misty reconnaissance.
There was buzz up ahead. The bandits were spooked, and rightly so. One man had returned, crawling, gashed across his face and chest. He surely spoke of death, come to consume them all. Or, so I assumed. It didn’t really matter what he said in the long run. Their flames burnt bright, their sentries alert. A false hope.
As she vanished, so too did she reappear. I spied her hands in the distance. She made a T with them. Tenderize. I fetched my spyglass and watched. I only caught a few kills as they happened.
One went to relieve himself in the brush. He thought he was safe, mere paces away from his friends. But they were fixated on the woods; not him. A thin silk noose dropped around his neck and he shot up into the treetops. A broken neck, surely.
Another watched outward from his tower, expecting the enemy to approach from the wood line. He was not considering a foe that could appear behind him at a moment's notice. And he was not prepared for a blade through the spine.
A leader grew suspicious. His senses told him something was wrong, though he did not know what. Listening to his gut, he moved for a watchtower, then already vacant of life. He climbed the ladder, only to come face-to-face with his doom as Matti formed on the other side of the rungs. She sliced his throat and viciously kicked him off the ladder. He landed on a tent pole, running him through.
Shouts. Screams. That was my cue. I hit the spurs and drew my sword, wielding a soulfire nexus in the other hand. Pyroshir charged. We felt the wind in our hair as we entered the bandit camp. To my left, I blanketed tents with green, life-consuming flame, and to my right, I swung, lopping a man’s head off.
Bandits were trampled, slashed, burned, and even drained. I counted about 20, and they didn’t last long. In truth, I was just a distraction. Every eye falling on my flame-spewing, vorpal-slashing self, was an eye that did not see the clawed, fanged, dagger-wielding superhuman that was—more often than not—right behind them.
It ended in minutes, and I say ‘minutes’ exclusively because 2 made a break for it. We were the only ones left. I inspected the carnage briefly, then nodded to myself and sheathed my sword. Matti appeared from the shadows, seeming to be in the near-orgasmic afterglow of a slaked bloodthirst. She gracefully leapt onto the saddle and nuzzled into my back affectionately. On any other occasion, it would’ve been endearing.
“Ahh, what a lovely night that was. We should do it again sometime,” she cooed.
“Ayup,” I answered, bringing Pyroshir around to head home.
As we passed the trees in silence, Matti tugged to make me halt our journey. I looked over my shoulder at her, and she addressed the nearest tree with a menacing tone.
“You know, a new hobby might thoroughly benefit your wellbeing, dryad. One that keeps you away from me.”
……
I slowly sorted through a collection of notes, callback requests, and mail that had accumulated on my desk since I took Cam for his… free legendary. Lots of junk mail, some crap that someone else could handle, and a number of things that used to be meetings, except I said ‘this could’ve been a email short letter’. Honestly, though, half of them didn’t even need to be a letter, it just needed to have come from a person who knew when to shut the hell up and solve a problem on their own for once in a goddamn while.
Then a more distinct wax seal caught my eye. Is that the moderation team emblem? I wondered to myself. Plucking up the letter revealed it was exactly that, so I popped the sucker open and read. It was… actually just business as usual. I’d been expecting to be in trouble for something, but instead…
“HEY, CAM!”
“WHAT?”
“YOU WANNA GO ON A WYVERN HUNT?”