"Artherias!"
Artherias, the lad of Kalbaster, hastily shifted his mask back into position and turned to meet the speaker.
"Sir!" He brought his black-gloved hand over his chest.
Yet the cloak-draped man before him, almost six feet tall, merely sighed. Between the pair, his iron mask was detailed with the visage of a hawk. Body-wise, Artherias was no match for the older man; in the human kingdoms, even before account for their family's histories, those of the western territories were naturally well-built. None of the group saw the detailed masked figure's faces, yet the few times Artherias had seen the man without his gloves let him see the tattooed fingertips seen from the opposite end of humanity's reaches. Compared to an Easterner like him that was smaller-framed and acutely-sighted from intermingling with elven tribes, his commander made Artherias look like a child.
In reality, the difference in their years was around only five by the Order's standards. Korten scoffed and grabbed his wrist, pushing it out of the way.
"Are you trying to get my killed Artherias? Kobolds are stupid but even they know how we salute superiors. You've heard the rumors by now, so surely you've asked the other veterans."
"Of course sir... I-I just-"
Korten released him and let his hand fall to the hilt of a hand-and-a-half sword sheathed on his hip. "Artherias, these forests have been having kobold problems longer than you were a wee sparkle in even your grandpa's eye. Five of my friends have died here; two after being raped by these savage demonspawn."
All the rumors and stories about kobolds didn't need repeating. Artherias averted his gaze reaching to his iron buckler and nearby axe. They both had belonged to his father before he retired from military service, both being drilled into his blood and bashed into his head enough that he sometimes forgot how to do the imperial math-system devised by the Alliance.
"I know Commander Korten," he sighed. He stood up straight, looking at the man and toward the camp as a result. "I won't let my guard down."
"Good." Korten's face may not have been visible, yet he swore he could sense the man smile. The westerner turned and looked at the campfire, as well as the featureless mask of his squad.
In total, Korten Squad was fifteen; Korten was the most detailed mask member, three others bore lines or tracings of their first ceremonial etchings, and all of the rest had nothing. Four members of the Alliance Masked Order that had seen combat, whilst eleven who were fresh out of training. Artherias and one of the other recruits were Hinstgard-Grade — effectively the weakest grade in the scope of magical standards — Magicians, yet the Order had armed the squad with the anti-kobold scent cloaks and special training for dealing with the pests. Baelic Forest had been plagued for supposedly two centuries with kobold infestations, yet all the progress in stopping them stopped around a century ago. No one knew why, yet the Order began taking it seriously around ten years ago when the demon front grew uneasy.
If another war were to brew... would our squad still be here? We were supposed to fight kobolds, but... we're only a few miles from the demonic border. Any day now, they could storm an entire legion across and we'd be-
Artherias stopped thinking when the sky darkened above him. Both he and Korten turned their gazes upward, only for the veteran to step back and reverse-tackle into him, sending him toppling away whilst he pulled his sword. Artherias saw nothing but heard the sound of steel meeting something hard.
The recruit rolled at least twice before he caught himself by bashing his buckler into the forest floor. Korten shouted and something barked back in a deep, rolling tongue.
The only creatures that sounded like that had become too infamous to not be known, even if he hadn't heard one in his life.
Artherias glanced up and shakily stood himself up, staring in fear through his dirtied mask at a figure only half a foot shorter than them... despite that, the figure was holding their own against Korten. The five-foot-tall kobold was too big to be normal, yet the blue beast snarled with an almost human visage that identified it as anything but regular. Artherias almost lost control over himself at the sight of it, yet Korten barked an order to him and all the still-startled campdwellers.
"It's a kobold prince but we can kill it! Stand together and figh-"
Korten's shoulder lurched back and in an instant, the kobold leaped and twisted its hips. The entire clearing burst with a sickening crack and their commander dropped his blade and screamed in agony. Although it looked normal, the creature's tail was reinforced with thick scales that made it no different than a mace.
And to the entire squad's horror, the kobold immediately struck down and crushed Korten's head with its strangely-constructed club. Artherias watched the man slump over before he immediately puked against the inside of his mask. His buckler hand clutched and tore it free, seconds quick enough to let him see the kobold turn its attention to him.
No... no!
Artherias raised his axe and screamed, no longer caring for well-being.
"Frigid!"
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Baik snorted, his blood-red eyes glaring down at the man's extended hand.
You think I'll let you? I can see it... you can use magic.
The prince hurled his club across the ten feet between them, the stone-weight of his bonewood club smashing the young man's hand. Even if he was human, the pale youth wasn't a true warrior; he screamed in pain and fell down, dropping his weapon and cradling his crushed fingers.
He's done; in that shape, he can't cast magic. As a human, pain used to blind me... so it'll do the same to them.
Kobold or not, right now he had to strike first. He pivoted on his right foot just as one of the other humans charged, barely evading a thrusting spear. His tail swirled through the air and harmlessly avoided skewering, instead choosing to drag his sail across it and cut it cleanly in half. The masked figure cursed in another deep voice but unlike the first man he wasn't going to survive one hit. Baik thrust his hand out and grabbed the somewhat short human by their iron breastplate's collar, raking his free hand across and clawing his throat out effortlessly.
Aggel told me that when facing humans, they fail to do two things: protect their neck and react. Strike them fast and efficiently and it won't matter what they wear. The only ones I should even consider taking as slaves would be the ones who are useful or females. In their shoes... I would be terrified too.
That's why I have to kill as many as I can now while they're still trying to recover.
The blue prince grabbed the man's mask and stripped it away, revealing an older man with chubby cheeks. Humans who were young or conscripted likely made up the bulk of their forces if they were anything like the old humans in his world. It was a logical deduction... but the truth was that the information about people was different. Although he struck fast, the dead man and the one with the crushed hand were speaking in slightly different tongues or accents. It was very likely that they had a widespread language like Ancient Rome for business or military service but also had their own personal languages for their regions.
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These humans weren't that different from his... which made it weigh a bit more heavily on his conscience that the out-of-shape man's wheezing and dead-eyes were signs of his life draining out of him. Baik had slashed an artery.
For now, he let the man fall and surged forward toward the campfire; there were three of them rushing and ready to meet him with swords whilst the rest were scrambling to fall back or running for the forest treelines. One of the three turned his head to call out to them, instantly triggering Baik's attack instinct and making him draw his axe. The blue kobold danced past one of them and leaped out, throwing the mask at another plain-masked figure... before the third turned back and the shieldsplitter hand-axe crashed down on the top of his skull. Obsidian weapons had a sharp edge but a skull was difficult to get past; the strike was fatal with the force Baik hit with, but instead of sticking it deflected the weapon and sent the man crumpling.
Baik turned and threw his axe at the one that had momentarily been distracted with the mask, hitting them so hard in the breastplate that they fell over. The second soldier charged in and swung horizontally in a perfect decapitating swing.
The blue prince let his tail slide in the dirt and snap its tip into the dirt a foot behind him, dropping all his weight back and falling out of the arc's path. His human assailant was baffled but Baik didn't give him time to recover. Instead, he pushed himself back up and kicked out their rear-positioned leg. In an instant, they lost their balance and slapped mask-first on the ground.
That can concuss but it isn't fatal.
Baik grabbed their long blonde hair and stomped their only shoulder with good mobility, pulling their hair and forcing them to drop the sword in agony. Instead, they grabbed at his ankle and wrist, powerless within his hold.
Might be a female... but can't check. I need to keep trimming numb-
"SALVMERIN!"
Baik hastily turned his head just as a thick ball of ice slammed into his hip. The sphere hit him like a cannonball, throwing him through the air like a toy and snapping the hair free in his hand. Although the figure was crying and clutching their pulled apart hair, they were alive... and the kobold prince slammed into one of the wagons the humans had brought. A wheel thankfully meant he hit what felt more like a wall but the spoke snapped the instant of contact, bouncing him whilst the ice shattered and splintered. Countless pieces of the glass-like magical substance cut and raked at his hard scales, but only a few hit his softer scales.
On the surface it had done little... but the attack had him gasping and feeling extremely heavy on his wounded side.
Internal damage... is this... a spell used because it was the only choice or... because it's meant to fight me!?
Baik grit his teeth and turned, glaring at the all-too-familiar boy from before. Even with his puke-stained cloak and armor, even with his crushed hand, and even after the death of his comrades... he had resolved himself and used his good hand to cast a spell. The damaged hand was pulled tight to his gut and wrapped sloppily in battlefield bandages; the few parts of exposed bloody skin were coated in ice.
He froze his hand? Doing something like that... he did it to stop the bleeding even if it cost him his hand?
Baik unsheathed his sole weapon — the dagger — without any hesitation. He rushed forward and raised his own hand.
"SALV-"
"Spark!"
Lightning arced off his free hand and smashed into the figure's extended arm. The ball of ice form, but their shaking and electrocuted form caused them to lose focus; their mana unsteadied and the spell exploded on him.
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Artherias had blacked out.
All he remembered was casting Frigid only for the kobold prince to attack him back. Magic was possible for a kobold prince but the possibilities of it happening were supposed to have been low. Even without it, that single Prince had begun tearing through their formation.
In his entire life, Artherias had never seen anyone or anything fight like that. It wouldn't surprise him if he had died from the momentary agony he felt of his own spell detonating on himself. Even if he survived, life would never be the same with his hands destroyed.
But to his surprise, his nostrils drew a hard breath and his eyes snapped wide-open. The weight of his armor was gone... but his hands still hurt. Smelling his own fear from before made him want to wretch but when he tried to scream there was no noise... just pain. Tears welled in his eyes and he tried to move.
His body tried... but the clank of metal manacles stopped him.
"Artherias, r-r-right?"
Even though he had been conscious for a few seconds, the struggling Kalbasterian didn't even recognize that someone was standing over him on his right. Though they no longer wore a mask, the familiar blonde hair of Renia was unmistakable. She and him had graduated in the same class.. and to be precise, she was the other magic user. The group's healer.
Artherias looked at her round face for the first time, taking in every detail in his hyper-alert state. She was pretty and would make a good wife to anyone back home; her dark skin may be more common in the western territories but her lean purple eyes were gems. Her face was full from eating well and clear of blemishes save the cutest layer of freckles.
Was Renia an angel all along?
Unable to reach to her, he wanted to ask her what happened... but he knew when he saw that monster standing above and behind her.
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"Tirs mah vlin, Renia! Vlin kobold nars!"
I can't understand anything they say... but this girl was smart.
Baik had won... albeit just barely. There had been at least twelve of them, but many of them had fled. There were three dead; the first man who had the strangest mask, the plump spearman, and the one he had fatally concussed with his axe. The blonde one had been a woman and was crying on the ground begging for mercy whilst he beat and captured the sole member of the trio who hadn't run. They were bound in a pair of manacles as well nearby, facedown in the blood. As gruesome as the scene was, he hadn't been to certain of whether or not he was going to keep hostages. Humans likely had enough smarts to determine he had taken them... but they also likely would be too intimidated to make moves on him with the group captured.
But he didn't plan on letting the others go; the only reason Baik remained at the camp was that he saw the woman treating the side of her head. The magician had been knocked out but with his hands in such a bad condition he would have died... so he made use of the human woman like a tool. She healed her friend and saved his life.
But did I do it because I wanted to spare that man?
Although the guy had tried to kill Baik, he understood why. He'd seen his friend killed so hastily and lost both of his hands' fingers. Her healing magic had mended them back to flesh... but the lines of his crushed digits merging back with their hand made it obvious it wasn't perfect. In their current condition, this man would never be able to do anything complex again. In all his rage and screams, there was a human reality that he had crippled him for the rest of his life.
Yet Baik didn't feel too guilty. He had no time.
Ensuring the woman was still chained, he ensured all three were bound and secured by the damaged cart. The crying lad was cuddled tight in the human woman's arms in delirium, cursing him to no end whilst the healer brushed his hair comfortingly.
These three will have a purpose... even if they despise it. The healer can teach us healing magic and the mage can teach me more about humans. Their friend seemed adequate with a sword... but now comes the dirty part.
The kobold prince had gathered his bonewood club since it was in great condition still... but his axe was busted. Taking the man's axe was one option, but he needed to not completely risk ruining any chance at cooperation. Daesal was too big to lose all the avenues.
Baik picked up the sword from the man he had bludgeoned to death and turned it over, examining the sword for a few moments with an untrained eye. He didn't have memories of swords in his prior life... but killing was something he could do regardless. The length was a bit long but not only could he grow into it, Baik could even use it as a two-hander. It was an ideal weapon to upgrade to for any self-respecting warrior. Sadly, he doubted it was going to survive the next few hours. Gathering a bag of the human's food for himself and tossing the other at the side of the healer, the kobold hoisted the sheath over and around his upper half. These three were hostages but he wanted them to be suspected dead as long as possible.
Baik was going to have to track down and kill the others.