“For the last time,” Andrew growled, “Father Diatrin is not killing people in the old temple. Those grounds are sacred, consecrated in the name of Domas, god of mercy. He’d never allow someone to commit such an act in his name without retribution!”
Rufus scowled. “Maybe you’re supposed to be his retribution, old Andy! Didn’t you say you grew up in a temple just like ours? This could be his call to arms for you an-”
“I'm no paladin.” Andrew interjected. “I’m not even a warrior - not anymore. Rufus, you do this every time a new person comes to town. You accused me of being a Milassi spy for 3 years! Why can’t you just accept that Father Diatrin is just a kindly old man that worships Domas?”
The scowling old drunk pulled a small flask from his oversized beard and took a swig before answering. “I thought you were a spy because you’re friends with an elf. Didn’t know she wasn’t from Milassi! As for the ‘priest’, have you ever seen him call upon divine power? He doesn’t even heal himself!”
Andrew took a slow, deep breath, clearly struggling to control himself. “I’ve had enough of this, Rufus. There’s a difference between a priest and a cleric, as I’ve told you a dozen times!”
“He’s up to something!” the old drunk insisted. “There’s been strange sounds coming out of that damn temple each night!” He looked around the room, eyes narrowing. “You lot want to make some money?” He said slyly. “I’ll pay 10 coins for proof that the old man’s a fraud!”
“10 silver isn’t even worth the time!” Vivi scoffed.
“I meant 10 gold,” Rufus responded with a crooked smile.
“I’ll match that, and provide room and board for a week, if you can prove Rufus wrong!” Andrew rumbled.
That was how Jubel found himself walking to the local temple, accompanied by an engineer, a wall of irritable muscle, and a beautiful elven girl.
“Why do I have to go?” Lucas muttered. “10 gold isn’t that much, and if we split it 4 ways, it’s even less! I should just-”
“Find another way to pay for your room?” Vivi finished, her tone deceptively sweet.
That earned a glare from the immense man, who took to inspecting the haft of his glaive instead of talking.
“Don’t mind him,” Damaia said, a genuine smile on her face. “He’s basically an oversized teddy bear once you get to know him! He just hates mornings, and he hasn’t had his second cup of coffee yet!”
“Or his third,” Vivi added helpfully.
“Not all of us can get by on four hours of sleep,” Lucas objected, sounding genuinely hurt this time. “It’s not my fault I need a little help in the morning!”
“See what I mean? A total softie!” Damaia smiled cheerfully as she gestured towards Lucas. “So how do we do this whole ‘sneaking around’ thing?”
“I do the sneaking,” Vivi said firmly. “You try to distract him.”
“But Viviiiii,” the felblood began.
“No! Damaia, you have so many tools strapped to you that you sound like a full battalion! Just leave the sneaky stuff to people who don’t risk waking up a distant dragon every other step. Lucas! You’re with me. You might want to leave the glaive outside though - it’s not easy to sneak with a 6 foot pole attached to your back. Jubel, Watch Damaia and make sure she’s safe! If the priest is a fake, he might get violent when confronted. Together, you should at least be able to stall until we get there.”
Jubel silently nodded as she laid out their plan, discussing the layout of the old building and pointing out various potential points of entry. “Do you do this often?” He finally said as they crossed the lone remaining street between them and the temple. “You seem like you’ve got a lot of experience with planning - or maybe just break ins.”
Vivi hesitated at that. “I was in the military for a few years. Never managed to make Captain or anything, but I studied tactics for fun while I was there. Plus, I read alot of stories about adventurers. Planning to sign up with the Hunter’s guild back home next month, so I can become one myself!”
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Finally, something he’d heard of! The Monster Hunter’s guild - or just Hunter’s guild for short - was present in basically every country on the continent, from what he could remember. He’d wanted to join when he was younger, but he’d been told he couldn’t, because -
“Wait, don’t you need the backing of a noble house to get in?” he blurted out as the thought came to him.
Vivi glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “You’re from Milassi, aren’t you?”
He was happy to say he did not freeze this time, though he did hesitate to answer. “How’d you know?” he finally asked as they stopped in front of the temple doors.
“Damaia asked the same thing last week, and she grew up in the capitol there - what’s it called?”
“Bellus,” the half elf and felblood replied in unison.
“Yeah, Bellus. Weird name. Then again, I’m one to talk. Domas have mercy, our capital is called ‘Invicta’!” She chuckled.
“Can we please just do the job and get back to my coffee?” Lucas grumbled.
“Fine - but only because you said please!” Damaia replied cheerfully.
Vivi quickly slipped out of sight, looping around the back of the temple with Lucas barely half a step behind. Even as they vanished, Jubel hauled open the double doors, and stepped inside the old temple.
Father Diatrin was, as it turned out, a cheerful old man that was only too happy to talk to them. Damaia did most of the talking, at least at first. Jubel simply walked around and investigated the area under the guise of checking out the renovations the old man had apparently been working on since he first arrived. Then, three things happened in quick succession.
First, Damaia managed to insult the priest.
“But that’s stupid!” She said, sounding deeply offended.
“Excuse me?!” Diatrin replied stiffly.
“There’s no reason to just shun technology! It makes life better for everyone! Makes tough things easier!”
“And it is hard to get ahold of in this poor land,” He replied, eyes narrowing. “Domas is a god of mercy - but also of suffering. We who serve him get by with less and take on the burdens of others, that there might be more for those who truly need it. I have no use for clocks when I have a sundial, nor will a radio provide me with anything a choir cannot. Let such luxuries go to those who may yet get the most out of them!”
Jubel had to commend the old man for keeping his temper so well. In fact, he was just about to do so when the second thing happened.
He saw a faded reddish brown handprint on the only closed door that led deeper into the temple - the door to Diatrin’s room.
“Did you hurt yourself?” Jubel asked quietly, gesturing to what he was sure was a bloodstain. “Smash a finger or something? Looks like it left a mess.”
Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but the priest seemed to grow paler as he answered. “Y-yes. That’s right. I slipped using a saw, actually. See?” He held up his left hand, which was indeed heavily bandaged.
“I have some healing salves!” Damaia said cheerfully, though her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Unless that’s too luxurious for you.”
The priest scowled. “I’d appreciate it, actually. But I still have work I must finish this morning. Would you mind coming back in an hour or two?”
Now he was trying to get them to leave. Jubel hated to admit it, but the old drunkard might’ve been right. What was he hiding back there? He was trying to find an excuse to say when the third thing happened.
A muffled scream came from beyond the door.
“Vivi!” Demaia cried in concern, moving before anyone else could react. She slammed into the door shoulder first, shattering it instantly. Jubel darted between her and the now fuming priest, not even bothering to draw his weapon. He didn't want to hurt the old man until he knew what was happening - especially considering he still didn't fully understand what had happened last week.
He looked over his shoulder as he heard the felblood girl gasp, but didn't have time to see much before the priest shoved him to the side. He mentally added ‘stop looking towards every noise you hear’ to his to-do list, right beneath ‘stop freezing every time you get surprised’, and rolled to his feet.
The priest’s room was sparsely furnished. He had a bed, a small wooden tub, and a wardrobe with no door that seemed to be filled with white and black robes. All in all, it looked fairly normal - if you ignored the man tied to the bed. The man was so heavily bandaged that it took a moment for Jubel to realize they weren’t human - or elf for that matter.
The person tied to the bed was an orc. Taller and more aggressive than their smaller goblin cousins, orcs tended to be lean, muscular and covered in scars from head to toe. This one was no exception, but he was clearly in rough shape.
“Get away from him,” Diatrin shouted as he saw Vivi move to untie them. “He’s wounded, but refuses to rest! If you untie him he’ll try to run off!”
“I’d try to run off too, if you tied me to your bed!” Vivi shot back as she cut the rope, eliciting a gruff chuckle from Lucas, who was standing off to one side, glaive in hand. “Honestly, how is this helping him?!”
She glanced at the orc and whispered something under her breath. A soft blue light enveloped the heavily bandaged man, and when it faded, his eyes were open. Diatrin gasped as his prisoner - or perhaps his patient - abruptly sat up, glaring around the room.
“What day is it?” He rasped. “How long have I been here?”
“I found you two days ago,” the priest offered timidly. “I’ve been trying to tend to your wounds, but it’s these fine folk you have to thank for your recovery.”
“He’s not recovered,” Vivi snapped, glaring at the priest. “He’s still in need of proper rest and some medicine, but I’ve healed the immediate damage. That’s all my magic can do. I’m not a cleric, either.”
“Then what are-” The priest was cut off as his patient leapt out of bed.
“TWO DAYS?! We must move! We must run!”
The now panicking orc twisted his head left and right, looking desperately for a way out.
“Take it easy,” Damaia said softly. “You need to calm down and rest. You heard Vivi, you’re not really recovered yet-”
“There is no time!” the orc snapped. “They will be here soon! My squad was wiped out! I was the only survivor, and I collapsed too soon! This village is doomed! YOU MUST RUN!”
“WHO is coming?!” Lucas snapped, suddenly intensely focused on the orc. “What’s attacked you?”
“The Devourers!” The orc snarled, baring his teeth. “They leave no survivors, they do not claim land, and they do not rest. All they know is death and mayhem, and unless something has slowed them in the past day, they will be here by midday!”
As if to punctuate his words, a distant, beastly howl rang through the town.
“Too late,” the orc said, his face going pale. “They’re already here.”