Side Quest.II
Memories & Madness
A Byron & Trevor Adventure
PART 1
Rumours danced like shadows across the bruised stained streets of Korvosa. One hinted of a party at The Crested Falcon, which went off magnificently and was something of a talking point. There was juggling by the renowned Pennydew "The Swift", acrobatics by some unknown twins, a display of fire breathing by "The Flame", several moving musical sets by the New singing sensation Calli EK, an extraordinary tango through the centre of the party by a number of the performers but the reports are that the guest of honour felt that the highlight of the evening was ‘a Dragon boy’ who’d displayed an incredible display of magic and mystery! However after the party the Falcon was targeted by a daring thief and many valuables were taken. What a lucky coincidence that the thief should choose to target the Falcon after the party.
Another rumour that floated in the air of Korvosa like a bad miasma, suggested that the King's assassin had been captured. This news eased the tension on the crimson soaked streets and all the angry mobs seemed to dissipate back into the dark depths of Korvosa basements. They were clearly waiting to hear of the justice that would be meted out to the assassin.
As the mud stained sun rose over the shackled buildings of Old Korvosa, Byron, The Korvosan bear, walked the streets casually listening to all the rumours and pretending to ignore them all. He was on his way to the Cracked Weasel. Sirius Blackfire, the innkeeper of the place, had extended a gracious invitation for breakfast. As Byron made his way down to the inn, he noticed people looking at him. Their eyes widening as he strode past them. However, they weren’t admiring his physique or his towering demeanour. No, it was the Drake perched on top of his shoulder. The residents were used to seeing Drakes flying in the air. This was something new, something odd. They had never seen a Drake as someone’s familiar before. Needless to say it caused quite a few eyebrows to be raised, jaws to drop and Byron knew more rumours would be flying around the streets within moments. The Korvosan Bear smiled.
Byron knocked on the sturdy wooden door of the Cracked Weasel and was met by Trevor and Sirius. They welcomed him in and Sirius promptly went to make them both breakfast as well as pickled rat for the Drake. Little Focker, Byron and Trevor exchanged pleasantries, but Byron couldn't help but prod at Trevor's enigmatic past i.e. that there was another side to him. As soon as this was brought up again, Trevor’s right hand darted towards his temple. A flashback, a memory, sliced into this mind, like a dirty surgeon's needle . He could see himself fighting people and things he’d never seen. Gaedran Lamm appeared in the flashback too as well as Byron. The memories were both confusing and disturbing.
In the midst of their conversation, a knock echoed through the wooden door. The entrance revealed a Korvosan guard. Someone they were familiar with - Grau Soldado, the once-drunken soldier on the streets who now stood transformed - clean-shaven, sober, and adorned in a respectable uniform. He approached Trevor and Byron with a newfound sense of dignity.
Sodlado said he was here to express his gratitude and wanted to thank them for the kindness they had shown him on that fateful drunken night. At a time where most people would’ve ignored, jeered, mocked or even hurt him, they showed kindness and compassion. It was thanks to them that he was able to change his ways.
Trevor modestly acknowledged their actions, emphasising the importance of guiding others onto the right path. Byron, however, couldn't help but question his friendship with Trevor, muttering under his breath “Sometimes I don’t understand why we are friends!”
However, Soldado's gratitude wasn't the only reason for his visit. He had a favour to ask, his eyes glancing nervously around the room. He inquired about their involvement with Kressida Kroft. Both Trevor and Byron were uncomfortable with the question, and neither confirmed or denied this, but their involvement with the Commander was obvious by their uneasy expressions.
Soldado, believing they were the only ones he could trust with a problem, then revealed a disturbing tale. He explained that he’d received a tip off from an informant form the Cerulean Society Korvosa’s only established thieves' guild. The informant warned him of an impending attack on their territory. He went on to explain that this independent gang intended to use the present chaos in the city to try and steal goods and land from the Cerulean Society. This action would result in gang warfare which inevitably lead to civilian casualties. Something that the city desperately needed to avoid. Soldado therefore decided to investigate. His informant suggested they should start at a warehouse on Warehouse Way. However, when he got there, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Workers were casually going about their business as expected. Suddenly though, an invisible force started ripping the workers to pieces. Their bodies were gruesomely torn apart. Soldado immediately sprinted into action, rallying his fellow Korvosan Guards for help. But when he returned, everything was fine. The workers were inside, going about their business as if nothing happened. The scene was inexplicably normal. Soldado was then reprimanded for wasting the guards time. His Commander believed that he’d been drinking again. But Soldado had been sober for weeks. He knew what he’d seen, and he couldn’t let it go. A few days later he returned to the Warehouse. As he peeked inside the warehouse, he could see dead bodies strewn on the floor. However, from his vantage point it looked like all the bodies had somehow been drained of their blood. Leaving just a shell. It was a very disturbing sight. Soldado, scared and knowing he couldn’t tell his Commander of what he’d seen out of fear he'd be reprimanded again, left the building. As he did so, he got the distinct impression that he was being watched, but he couldn’t see anything. As he left the murderous scene, A chilling realisation gripped him, connecting the present events to a past tragedy involving a young halfling who had died with all the blood drained from him. He believed the kid hung around Byron at his fights and was seen in the company of Trevor. The halfling was called Benni.
The air in The Cracked Weasel Inn grew heavy with the weight of Soldado's story. Byron dipped his head as memories of the halfling flooded into his mind. Trevor reached for his right temple again as another memory lanced through him. He could see Byron, Benni, Lamm and himself walking towards a fighting arena. But it wasn’t him.But it was. Just another version of himself…..
Flashback 2 years previous
Byron, Lamm, Benni and Shiv were headed towards a fight. They crossed The High Bridge to get to the East Shore on their way to a cattle shed in the Thieves camp to take on the Golden Cirlce’s champion- a huge grunt of a man from Shoanti called the Mauler.
Benni was excited. Beyond excited. He lived for these moments! Benni was a halfling, about half the height of a human, with large green twinkly eyes and hair scraped up into a topknot on his head. His ears were pointed like an elf's, and his body was quite slender – perfect for wriggling into places he wasn’t supposed to be. He could’ve easily been mistaken for a child of around twelve or so, but that wasn’t his real age and he used that to his advantage. The clothes he wore were colourful and mismatched – bright red leggings and a plain fur-lined vest. His face, when he smiled and he always smiled, was full of wrinkles and was seen as attractive. And he loved to talk. By god he could talk and tonight he was on fire!
As they walked into the cattle shed, the noise was deafening! The Korvosan Bear had arrived, and the crowd knew blood would be spilt tonight! They craved it, yearned for it, hungered for it. Benni, seizing the moment, grabbed a small but surprisingly loud bell, and rang it enthusiastically to gather the crowd. The crowd hushed; their curiosity piqued as the halfling took centre stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, gather the feck round for the spectacle of the century!" the halfling exclaimed with a voice that carried much farther than expected. "Tonight, in this very square, we have a clash of titans, a showdown of epic fecking proportions! Two colossal barbarians are set to face off in a test of strength and skill that will leave you on the edge of your seats!"
As the halfling spoke, the crowd's anticipation grew, and they exchanged excited glances. The halfling continued to weave a tale of grandeur, exaggerating the barbarians' feats and prowess, painting a vivid picture of the impending battle.
"Tonight my friends, Blood will be feckin spilt!" The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, caught up in the spectacle.
"On one side, hailing from the rugged mountains, we have the indomitable, the unstoppable Shoanti called The Mauler!" The halfling pointed dramatically to one side of the square, where the towering Shoanti barbarian flexed his muscles to the delight of the crowd.
"And on the other side, from the blood smeared streets of Old Korvosa, the ferocious, the fearless, the most magnificent feckin fighter known to mankind, I give you Byron, The Korvosan Bear!!!!!! " The halfling gestured to the opposite end, where Byron snarled. The crowd erupted, calling out Byron’s name, over and over again! With the crowd thoroughly engaged, Benni encouraged cheers, whistles, and applause, building the excitement to a crescendo.
Benni, clearly elated by his actions, then sniffed some power up his nose and leapt over to Byron, his eyes on fire “Oh, you’re going to smash him Byron. You’re gonna feck him up, feck him up, ya hear me. Feck him up!” Byron said nothing, his eyes were archer-like focussed on the Shoanti. He simply held his hands out for Benni to wrap in knuckles in gauze. “Ya gonna feck him up!” said Benni, laughing deliriously! “Feck him up!”
The Referee of the night's fight, an oversized man, with an enormous handlebar moustache and comb over hair, then stepped into the arena and calmed the audience down. In a loud burly voice he reminded everyone of the rules “First one to be unconscious or dies loses. To the victor the spoils! Once again the crowd exploded into a cacophony of noise, Benni joined in screaming “He’s gonna feck you up, feck you up!Hahaha!” whilst The Mauler and The Korvosan Bear just silently stared at each other murderously.
Whilst all this was happening, Lamm instructed Shiv to follow him out of the arena and into a small outhouse. Its rotten wooden walls creaked in the wind, and the air within was thick with the stench of decay. Inside the cramped space, the flickering light of a lone lantern barely illuminated three well dressed men and three armed bodyguards.
“Good evening gentlemen” Lamm said in that slow sardonic way of his “So, good of you to meet me here tonight. We have business to discuss!”
One of the well-dressed men stepped forward rubbing his hands whilst his head tilted to one side.”I don’t see we have any business to discuss. We’ve already told you that we have no interest in selling you our building. What makes you think we’ll change our mind this time?” Lamm licked his lips, smiled, and then pointed at Shiv “Meet my chief negotiator!”
Shiv, the hulking Half-Orc with a twisted grin and an insatiable appetite for chaos, stepped forward. His eyes glinted with malice as he clutched a wickedly curved axe, its blade pulsating. “I have a smile that can warm the coldest of hearts, but I can make a room as cold as the grave!” Shiv said slowly “Choose wisely you cunts!”
“Kill him!” replied the gangster and the three bodyguards came towards Shiv.”Good choice!” smiled the Half-Orc.
As the three human axe men, mercenaries with a thirst for blood, started to flank Shiv, the Half-Orcs malevolent grin never faltered, but his eyes tracked each opponent, calculating their every move.
The first human, a burly figure with a gnarled beard, lunged forward, his massive battle-axe swinging through the air. Shiv deftly sidestepped the attack, but the second assailant, a wiry man with a scarred face, was quick to capitalise. His axe grazed Shiv's side, eliciting a guttural growl from the Half-Orc.
Ignoring the pain, Shiv retaliated with a furious onslaught. His deadly axe sang through the air, but the human trio fought with coordinated precision. The third attacker, a swift and agile warrior, danced around Shiv, landing precise blows that took their toll. Blood seeped from wounds as Shiv found himself on the defensive.
The cramped space of the outhouse intensified the struggle, the air thick with the acrid scent of sweat and blood. Shiv's movements became sluggish, his axe pulsating erratically. Yet, his twisted determination spurred him on.
The battle raged on, each combatant's breaths mingling with the sounds of clashing metal. Shiv's once-predatory grin turned into a snarl as he felt the weight of his injuries. The human axe men, however, were not unscathed; their bodies bore the marks of Shiv's relentless counterattacks.
As the fight reached its climax, Shiv summoned his remaining strength for a final, desperate assault. The dark energy within his soul surged as he unleashed a whirlwind of strikes. The human trio, fatigued and wounded, faltered under the onslaught.
One by one, they fell. The burly figure collapsed to his knees, as Shiv’s axe cascaded into his stomach, causing his entrails to spill onto the floor. The wiry man, his scarred face contorted in agony, crumpled to the floor, as Shiv expertly spun around him and sliced his axe through his spine. The agile warrior's jaw dropped; this couldn’t be happening. They thought this would be easy. Shiv looked at him menacingly. He was next! The axe man stumbled backwards looking at Shiv, but knew he had to come at the Half Orc again. He took one step forward and that was all the Half-Orc needed. The great axe of Shiv swung in arc, making a deadly whistling sound as it passed through the air before, and then sliced straight through the man's neck. The man stopped dead in his tracks. His hand went to try and touch his neck but couldn’t. For a moment he just stood there and then his body slumped to the ground and his head danced and bounced on the floor, his eyes blinking in disbelief before finally succumbing to eternal darkness. Shiv roared in satisfaction.
The outhouse, now a chaotic battleground stained with blood, bore witness to Shiv's triumph. The Half-Orc, panting heavily and drenched in sweat, surveyed the lifeless bodies of his adversaries. The malevolent whispers of his axe subsided, leaving only the haunting silence of the night.
Shiv, though victorious, stood amidst the wreckage, his wounds a testament to the brutality of the encounter. With a twisted smile, he turned his attention to the three remaining gangsters.
“Now, now, Shiv” said Lamm “Let’s not be too hasty! After all, these men are not your enemies. They’re our friends. Isn’t that right gentlemen! And they want to give me present”
The three gangsters, knowing they were beaten, nodded their heads in acquiescence. One of them stepped forward and presented Lamm the deeds to the building that he craved. As he did so, Shiv ripped the head off one of the dead humans and hurled it at the others.
“Thank you, gentlemen!” said a smiling Lamm “Enjoy your evening!” and one by one the three gangsters slowly and sheepishly began to leave.
“When the fight is over Shiv, I want you to take Benni back to the orphanage. Ok.” instructed Lamm. As he said this, the last of the gangsters leaving the building seemed to pause and take note of this. ”If Byron has done his part The Golden Circle will have lost a lot of money on the fight, it'll take them years to recover” said smiling Lam, rubbing his hands in delight.
“I don’t want to go back to that fucking shithole” screamed Shiv “I hate it there. I fucking hate it. I just want to burn it down, raze the whole fucking thing to the ground and that laughing little cunt Benni. He’s a wanker”
“Well, maybe I’ll let you do that one day, my boy” said Lamm, making Shiv’s eyes widen in delight. “Yes, I think you’d like that. But for now, you’re tired. Go get some rest”. And it was true. Shiv was tired. The night had taken its toll. “Ok, boss” said Shiv and both he and Lamm left behind the shattered remnants of the outhouse and the defeated echoes of their enemies.
As all of this was playing out, The Korvosan Bear and The Mauler were about to go toe to toe with each other in battle. The air buzzed with anticipation in the cattle shed as the raucous crowd, a sea of bloodthirsty onlookers, jostled for the best view of the impending battle. In the centre of a sandy pit, the two contenders stood facing each other, their faces obscured by menace and their muscles rippling beneath their bare, scarred torsos.
On one side stood Byron, a hulking figure with wild, unkempt hair cascading down his shoulders. His eyes, fierce and determined, surveyed the throng of spectators with a silent challenge. Across from him stood the infamous Mauler, a Shoanti brute of a barbarian known for his merciless victories in the arena. His massive, calloused hands clenched into fists, a testament to the raw power he wielded.
As the referee signalled for the fight to begin, the crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers and jeers. Coins changed hands as bets were placed, the fervour reaching a fever pitch. The deafening roar of the crowd melded with the heavy breaths of the fighters as they circled each other, sizing up their opponent.
The first episode of their brutal dance began as The Mauler ran towards Byron at a tremendous pace. It was exactly what he wanted. As the Shoanti came pummelling towards him, Buron lunged forward, claws extended. The Mauler met him head-on, his powerful hands raised to parry the assault. The clash of flesh on flesh reverberated through the arena, sending shivers down the spines of the onlookers. Byron's retractable claws proved a deadly advantage, slashing through the Mauler's defences with unparalleled precision.
The crowd's excitement intensified with every swing and parry. Byron's agility and cunning evaded the Mauler's relentless onslaught, and the bets in his favour soared. But the Mauler, fuelled by the bloodlust of the crowd, fought back with a ferocity that seemed unrelenting.
The second episode saw Byron utilising the arena's environment to his advantage. He danced between pillars and leaped off the sandy floor, launching surprise attacks from unexpected angles. The Mauler, enraged and disoriented, struggled to keep pace. Byron's retractable claws found their mark again and again, leaving deep gashes on the Mauler's battered form.
The third episode unfolded with both warriors visibly fatigued, the taste of victory and defeat lingering in the air. The crowd, now a frenzied mob, screamed for a finish. Byron, sensing the Mauler's exhaustion, summoned the last of his strength. With a primal roar, he unleashed a flurry of devastating blows, each strike bringing him closer to victory.
In a climactic moment, Byron drove his claws into the Mauler's midsection, the crowd falling silent as the defeated barbarian crumpled to the ground. Byron stood triumphant, his chest heaving, as the arena erupted into chaos. The crowd, torn between disappointment and awe, showered him with both cheers and jeers.
Byron, the hero of the arena, raised his bloodied claws in a salute to the tumultuous crowd. Benni ran to his side, climbed up his back until he was perched on his shoulder and started screaming in celebration! “Byron! Byron! Byron! Hahaha! You fecked him up Byron! You fecked him up! Hahaha” Benni looked over at the Maulers assistant "Hey look at that he's so surprised his face is melting in sorrow!! Hey, you with the Melting Face you're next!! Don't melt away into the shadows or dissolve in tears!Hahahaha" Benni then opened a leather bag, inside of which were hundreds of flower petals, and hurled the petals all around the arena. The Korvosan’s Bear victory salute. As the flowers cascaded and poured over everyone, the victorious barbarian, bathing in the crowd’s cheers, knew that he had continued to earn his place as Korvosa’s ultimate champion of the savage spectacle.
With both ‘fights’ over, the two barbarians were exhausted and decided to head back to their beds to recover respectively. Benni was the opposite; he just wanted to talk and talk and talk. By the time they had made it back to the Orphanage, Shiv had changed back again into Trevor. As the half-orc stood by his bed he was confused as to what had happened to him. He had no idea why there were cuts and bruises all over his body and why he felt so exhausted. All he wanted to do was get his head down and sleep. But Benni was having none of it. He just wanted to talk about the night's events. ‘Trevor, my dear friend'' exclaimed, his speech rapid and jittery “Ya won't believe the fight I saw today!" Trevor, uninterested in tales of excitement at such a late hour, grunted and rubbed his eyes. "Can it wait, Benni? I'm tired and need some rest," Trevor mumbled, his eyes half-closed. "But Trevor me man, it was epic! There were claws and muscles and melting faces. It was Epic!" "Benni, I really need to sleep. Maybe tell me the story tomorrow," Trevor interrupted, trying to gently stop the halfling from blathering on. Benni's eyes widened, and he had a mischievous grin. "I've got just the thing to keep you awake and entertained, my friend. Wait here!" Without waiting for Trevor's response, Benni darted out of the room. Trevor sighed and settled into bed, hoping Benni wouldn't find any more sweets or “Shiver'' as it was really known. The drugs were taking a terrible toll on Trevor and that was the last thing he needed. Just as he closed his eyes to go to sleep, Trevor heard a terrible blood-curdling scream emanating from the corridor Benni had just sped down. Fear and adrenaline surged through Trevor’s body and for a moment he turned back again into Shiv as he rushed towards the source of the sound. Turning a corner, he found Benni sprawled on the floor, a look of horror frozen on his face. Shiv’s eyes widened as he saw a grotesque worm-like creature, its body pulsating with an otherworldly yellow glow, hovering over Benni's lifeless form. The creature had sucked all the blood from the halflings body and his life force. The creature seemed to look at Shiv, and then quick as a flash, dematerialised leaving a trail of darkness behind. Exhaustion hit the barbarian and once Shiv turned back to his other self. Trevor slumped to the floor and knelt beside Benni. Desperation etched across his face, and he cradled Benni's limp body in his arms. Trevor hadn’t seen the creature murder Benni, only Shiv. As far as he was concerned, Benni had died from a terrible drug overdose. "I'm sorry, Benni. I’m so, so sorry," Trevor whispered, his voice choked with sorrow. The night air carried the distant echoes of the creature's eerie disappearance, leaving Trevor alone with the weight of his friend's lifeless form.
Present Day
The memory subsided and Byron and Trevor exchanged a glance, recognizing the gravity of the situation. In the shadows of the inn, a new mystery unfolded, entangling them in a web of worry and unseen threats that reached beyond the ale-stained table of the Cracked Weasel and into the heart of Old Korvosa. They both understood a terrible truth-Benni had been murdered. No, not murdered-slaughtered. In a terrible, terrible way. Trevor still couldn’t understand why he was seeing these new memories. It was still horribly confusing to him. He was the one who’d seen Benni murdered and yet it wasn’t him who saw it-or was it? The two barbarians sat at the table in deep contemplation. Byron explained that Benni had been his ring man. He used to wrap his knuckles before a fight and sew up gashes and stitches afterwards. He loved the little fella as he used to make him laugh. He was always there to fix things. Trevor laughed at that. It was true. Benni was a ‘fixer’ and he used to make Trevor laugh all the time. Trevor and Byron looked at Soldado and agreed to investigate. In memory and honour of Benni. Grau Soldado thanked the two of them and then parted ways, expressing his thanks once again. And with that the two giant barbarians walked out of the Cracked Weasel with vengeance in mind.
PART 2
Trevor and Byron made their way through the city and found the warehouse that Soldaldo had told them about. There was nothing sinister or mysterious about the warehouse. No hint that terrible things had happened here. No clue that murder and mayhem may have occurred and that a monster may lay await inside. No. It was simply an ordinary warehouse. A passer-by could simply walk by and think nothing of it. But Byron and Trevor looked upon it with worry and foreboding. Who knew what terror awaited them there.
Two double doors stood at the entrance, with three windows above them, whilst a stairway could be seen on the side of the building, leading up to a single door at the top. Byron instructed Little Focker to fly up and spy through the windows and then report what he could see. The last thing they wanted to do is go through the double doors and be ambushed. The cat sized Drake, always happy to comply, spun and swirled through the air with the lightest touch and went off to look. When he returned, he explained to Byron he could see bodies strewn across the floor and a little boy running around the place with a smile on his face. The barbarians looked at each other with confusion and concern written all over their faces.
The two ‘man-giants’ then made their way up the side stairs of the building trying to be as stealthy as they could, but Byron's heavy physique made this quite difficult. When they reached the top, they found the door wasn’t locked and so they cautiously walked in.
They stood upon a gantry, a skeletal structure of rusted iron, which cast eerie shadows on the chaotic scene below. Ladders either side of the gantry led down to the warehouse floor. Chains with hooks dangled from the gantry, which connected to the worn wooden boats below. The chains passed through large doors to connect to the boats.
Apart from the three narrow windows on the opposite side of the gantry, the interior of the warehouse was dimly lit, with sporadic rays of sunlight piercing through the cracks in the worn wooden walls. The air was thick with the musty scent of aged wood and dampness. Barrels and crates of varying sizes were scattered haphazardly, forming a labyrinthine arrangement that seemed to stretch endlessly. The crates were stamped with symbols and crests, bearing witness to the diverse origins of their contents.
As their eyes continued to survey the scene, a grim discovery unfolded. Lifeless bodies lay strewn across the cold stone floor, clad in tattered clothing and bearing the marks of violence. The atmosphere was heavy with an unsettling silence, broken only by the occasional creaks and groans of the warehouse's timeworn structure.
In the midst of this macabre tableau, an unexpected figure emerged a halfling with an unsettling demeanour. The halfling, with a terrible glint in their eyes, stood amidst the chaos, smiling and laughing as if revelling in the dark energy that permeated the air. As they looked at the figure they could see the halfling was none other than Benni!
Trevor’s whole world came to a standstill. His body froze and trembled. His mind was bolting like a racehorse. This was impossible. He’d seen Benni die. He held his lifeless body in his hands. He now had memories of his murder. This was impossible. As a wild jungle of thoughts lanced through his mind, Benni looked up at the Gantry, spied the barbarians and cried “Well hello there! Good to see you again fellas! Do you still enjoy the sweets? Still enjoy the fights! Ah to be sure you do! To be sure!”
Byron started engaging in friendly conversation with the halfling, uncertain if this was actually the real Beni, but deep in Trevor’s soul he knew the figure he was staring at wasn’t. It was an abhorrent aberration. The barbarians moved down one of the gantry’s ladders to investigate. As they stepped off the last rung of the ladder though, the Halfling somehow had made his way to the top of the gantry ”Do you want to see something special boys? Well, do you? Hahahaha. Well, to be sure, you’re going to love this!” and then as quick as a flash, ‘Benni’ produced a crystal from his pocket and hurled it with might down onto the warehouse floor which then smashed into a myriad of glittering shards. As the fragments scattered, an otherworldly energy enveloped the air.
Little Focker, with his unique abilities, could see what others could not, and he started screaming “what the fuck is that? What the fuck is that?” The halfling, manically laughing, ran towards one of the ladders on the gantry. However, as he ran, his arms seemed to extend as if they were made of elastic, allowing him to grab the rungs and move quickly towards them.
Once again, Little Focker screamed ““What the fuck is that!?” The barbarians couldn’t see anything, but they knew the Drake could see invisible things and was scared. So, they moved quickly. They scrambled back up the ladder to the gantry, whilst asking Little Focker what he could see and where was it? Little Focker pointed at an area, and cried it was a flying horror with twisted masses of writhing feelers surrounding toothy maws. The creature had three long tentacles, each tipped with razor-sharp talons, and thousands of tiny feeding tendrils that undulated menacingly.
Reaching the top of the gantry, Byron and Trevor, understood the immediate threat it posed. This was the thing that had killed Benni as well as the other bodies on the warehouse floor. Without hesitation, they sprang into action. Trevor, reached for a bag of flour he’d obtained from Sirius earlier and hurled it into the area where the Drake said the creature was flying. The Bag exploded onto the monstrosity, now revealing its true location revealing outlines of its vicious tentacles. Byron, a wild and agile warrior, leaped off the gantry towards the nightmarish creature that hovered menacingly in the air. The twisted mass of writhing feelers and toothy maws seemed to sense the impending threat as Byron closed in. In a primal roar, Byron landed on top of the creature mid-air, and extended his hands, each adorned with razor-sharp claws that glinted in the dim light of the warehouse, aiming to strike at its vulnerable spots. He executed a swift and acrobatic manoeuvre, to twist his body to avoid the creature's flailing tentacles. The monster, momentarily disoriented by Byron's agility, and weight upon its own body, presented an opening. With a primal instinct, Byron lunged forward, driving his claws deep into the creature's tangled, nightmarish flesh.
Meanwhile, Trevor rushed down the gantry stairs. As he reached the floor, Little Focker opened the doors to the boathouse enabling Trevor to grab one of the swinging chains that hung from the gantry above. However, a wall prevented him hurling the chains and so with brute strength, he smashed his whole body through it. Now that he had an opening he swung the chains towards the monster, attempting to dig the chains hook into the creature and drag it onto the ground. The chain hook hit causing the creature pain, but it didn’t dig in.
Up above, Byron fought this almost invisible creature in the air. The battle was fierce and chaotic. The monstrous entity retaliated with ferocious attacks, its tentacles lashing out and its toothy maws snapping at him. One of the maws bit into Byron deeply, severing an artery, causing him to bleed profusely. Another of the beast tentacles though, hurt itself, causing the creature to slow momentarily.
Out of the corner of barbarian’s eyes, the ‘halfling Benni’, could be seen racing towards the double doors of the warehouse whilst laughing its maniacal laugh. However, looking at the halfling it looked as if his face had melted on one side and then grown, elongated into something larger, something unnatural. The thing smiled and then opened the doors and escaped into the city.
Trevor, with relentless force, launched the chain hook again desperate to entangle this creature. But once again the hook hit the creature but failed to dig into it.Byron was struck again by one of the creature's maws causing him to bleed even more, draining him of his strength. However, the barbarian skilfully dodged and countered the other maws, slashing at the creature's appendages. His claws sliced through the monstrous entity with a sickening squelch, leaving trails of ichor in their wake. Byron aimed for the vulnerable areas between the thrashing tentacles, finding the creature's most sensitive spots. His movements were swift and precise, a dance of deadly precision amidst the chaos of the battle.
As Byron's claws tore into the creature, a sudden surge of energy pulsed through its form. The monster let out an otherworldly screech, its writhing appendages momentarily freezing in a grotesque display. Byron seized the opportunity, leveraging the monster's momentary paralysis to deliver a final, devastating blow.
With a powerful swipe, Byron ripped his claws through the heart of the creature. The monster convulsed, its form writhing in agony as it succumbed to the mortal wound. In a dramatic display, the monstrous entity began its descent from the sky, plummeting towards the cold stone floor of the warehouse.
With uncanny grace, Byron managed to extricate his claws from the dying creature just in time. He used the beast's monstrous mass as a cushion as it crashed to the ground with a thunderous impact which left him unscathed by the monster's final descent.
The once-menacing creature lay defeated on the warehouse floor, its twisted form now still and lifeless. Byron stood amidst the aftermath, his chest heaving with exertion, claws stained with the creature's otherworldly blood. The warehouse, now eerily silent, bore witness to the prowess of the skilled barbarians and the victory they had achieved against a force of darkness.
As the echoes of battle faded, Byron and Trevor found themselves standing amidst the aftermath of the fierce confrontation with the otherworldly creature. Both barbarians were visibly exhausted, their bodies battered and bruised from the intense struggle. They exchanged a glance, acknowledging the toll the fight had taken on them.
Breathing heavily, Byron wiped the creature's ichor from his claws and winced at the soreness that permeated his muscles. Trevor, still gripping the chains he had used in the battle, flexed his hands, feeling the strain from the relentless swings he had delivered. Despite their weariness, the barbarians knew that their task was far from over.
With a shared determination, they turned their attention to the mysterious warehouse. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness as they began to investigate their surroundings. The crates, once scattered haphazardly, now drew their attention. Byron and Trevor approached cautiously, inspecting the labels on the crates.
The crates now displayed a distinct logo—a stylized golden circle. The name "Golden Circle" was emblazoned prominently, along with an unfamiliar address. The barbarians exchanged puzzled glances, realising that this seemingly innocuous warehouse had connections to a larger, enigmatic organisation. As they looked closer at the labels they could see these labels had pasted over labels which bore the symbol of the Cerulean Society.
"We need to find out more about this Golden Circle," Trevor grunted, his voice filled with determination despite the pain in his body. Byron nodded in agreement, his sharp eyes scanning the labels. "Agreed. Whatever they're involved in, it goes beyond just this creature. We need to get to the bottom of this."
Both Barbarians then remembered. When Byron fought and defeated The Shoanti Mauler all those years ago and when Lamm had forcibly taken the deeds to a building from the gangsters, all of them were part of the Golden Circle. It seemed history was catching up with them.
The weary barbarians limped out of the warehouse, desperate to solve this mystery. But first they needed healing.
PART 3
Eudicot villa stood as a symbol of elegance and wealth. It was a majestic structure set amidst lush gardens and manicured lawns. It radiated an aura of opulence and history. Tall, imposing gates guarded the entrance, adorned with intricate ironwork that bore the family crest. The villa itself stood as a testament to architectural grandeur. Its façade boasted a harmonious blend of classic and modern design elements. Ivory-coloured columns framed the entrance, supporting a balcony with intricately carved railings. The windows, tall and adorned with velvet drapes, hinted at the lavish interiors within. Ivy gracefully climbed the walls, adding a touch of whimsy to the otherwise stately structure.
On this day though, something wasn’t quite right. The tranquillity of the estate was abruptly shattered when two formidable warrior figures, one with an large axe and and another with razor sharp claws protruding in between his knuckles, approached the grand gates and rang the opulent bell that hung outside.
The gates opened and the butler of the house, a thin wiry man with a long nose, peered at the two barbarians with a mixture of surprise and disdain.
"May I help you gentlemen?" inquired the butler, wrinkling his nose as he looked disdainfully down at the blood-spattered barbarians.
Trevor the Half-Orc, stepped forward with a friendly grin and replied. "Oh, er very good day to you sir. Um, sorry to trouble you like. But er, we're friends of Calliandra. Heard she lives here. Um, we were wondering if we could get some assistance, please. If it’s not too much bother that is”. “Yeh.” interjected Byron “We need some healing potions."
The butler’s eyes narrowed, and he surveyed the bruised and battered warriors from head to toe. "Friends of Miss Calliandra, you say?”
“Um yes, that's right” replied the diplomatic Trevor. “Sorry to be a burden, but as you can see” he said pointing to the blood pouring out of Byron’s side “We could really do with your help here. Were on a very important mission” and both barbarians flashed the Drakes Mark - the medal of honour that Kressida Kroft had given them.“Yeh and we need some healing potions." said Byron.
The butler, both worried about what the neighbours would say about these two ruffians on the doorstep as well as feeling they might rip his head off in a heartbeat replied. “Stay here and wait in the lobby. Don’t go anywhere, don’t touch anything and please, do your best not to drip blood on the marble floor."
As Trevor and Byron waited in the manor's opulent lobby, placing their hands over the open wounds to try and stem the flow of blood oozing from their bodies, the butler made his way to the drawing-room where the Lady of the House, Mimosoideae Eudicot, or Mimsi as she was fondly called by her friends, was enjoying a cup of Elderflower tea. He leaned to her in and whispered, "My lady, there are two rather, um, peculiar individuals in the lobby, claiming to be friends of Miss Calliandra. They seek healing potions."
Mimsi raised an eyebrow and set down her teacup delicately. "Friends of Calliandra? Healing potions. That's unusual. Show me them."
As the butler escorted Mimsi into the Lobby, her eyes widened at the sight of the two enormous, bloody and scarred barbarians. "Oh, my! What in the world...?" she gasped, clutching her pearls.
Trevor, ever the charismatic one, stepped forward with a bow. "Oh, er hello your Ladyship, pleasure to meet you again. Sorry to disturb you. I’m sure you’re very busy doing, well, whatever rich people do… but we're friends of your daughter and we're hoping for a bit of help if that’s ok”. “Yeh” said Byron “we need healing magic."
Mimsi, though taken aback, composed herself. "Friends of Calliandra, you say? Oh yes, yes, I remember, you came here once before. Yes?”
“Er yes, that’s right your ladyship” replied Trevor.
“And why is my daughter friends with the likes of … you?” Mimsi tried politely asking
“Better to have a friend rather than an enemy!” replied Byron not realising he had just inadvertently threatened poor Mimsi.
“Yes…..” said Mimsi “And is my daughter with you?”
“Um, no” said Trevor
“Oh. Well, have you seen her then?” asked Mimsi.
Trevor scratched his head, sending a cascade of dust particles into the air “Um no” he replied “She’s probably at the er University. Studying or something”
Mimisi gave them a sceptical look “May I ask how you came to be so, um, scathed?”
“Or er, we're just on a secret mission for the State” said Trevor. And once again both Barbarians displayed the Drakes Mark. “But don’t worry, Byron is used to this, what with the fighting in the pits and all.”
“Fighting in the pits?” exclaimed Mimsy in shock.
“Oh yeh, He’s the Korvosan Bear!” said Trevor proudly.
Mimsy’s hand flew to her chest in shock and her face turned a whiter shade of pale. “You’re…you’re the Korvosan Bear! I’ve.. I’ve heard of you and your… ferocity! And you are friends with my daughter? The next time you see her, tell her I would like a word please!”
“Um yes, of course, your ladyship” replied Trevor, not really understanding what the problem was. She was probably just a bit starstruck, he thought.
Mimsy, still in a mild state of having a nervous breakdown, turned to her butler, and motioned for him to provide the healing potion. "Get them what they need. We wouldn't want them dying on our doorstep."
The butler hesitated but nodded, understanding the lady's directive. As he left to fetch the potion, Mimsi regarded the barbarians with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
“Thank you very much, me lady!” said Trevor “That’s very kind of you. Ey, if you ever fancy a meal at the Cracked Weasel, you’re more than welcome!”
“The Cracked Weasel?” Mimsy replied “What’s that?”
“Oh, it’s a pub in Old Korvosa” Trevor proudly replied.
A ripple of disgust travelled across Mimsi’s face. The thought of having dinner in a pub in the slums made her stomach turn over. She definitely needed to talk to her daughter about the company she kept!
“Oh it’s a lovely place!” continued Trevor. “You won’t get murdered or anything!”
Mimsi’s eyes widened in horror. “Why would you say that?” she baulked
“Well, cos it happens from time to time” replied Trevor shrugging his shoulders “But if you’re with me and Byron, you’ll be fine! Ey, talking of which maybe we can also take you Ru…..” Trevor was about to say Ruby’s Rest. Madame Devlins boudoir, where you could be entertained by various ladies of the night in all sorts of salacious ways, but thought better of it “rrr….somewhere else” he corrected.
The butler returned in the nick of time for all concerned with a beautiful crystal cut vial which contained a draft of healing, which Mimsi then handed over to the barbarians. "Take these, and please, try to keep yourselves out of trouble."
Byron nodded his gratitude, whilst Trevor thanked her and then gave her a kiss on the cheek. The Butlers jaw dropped to the ground when he saw this, whilst Mimsi almost fainted in revulsion. She would need a bath after this. Actually more than one. Many! The Half-Orc’s touch and smell needed to be expunged.
The barbarians clutching the much-needed healing potion then bade their farewells and left the villa, their heavy footsteps echoing through the halls. Mimsi watched them go, contemplating the intriguing and unpredictable connections her daughter had seemed to have attracted.
PART 4
Trevor and Byron, the two hulking barbarians, with a drake nestling on the should of one of them, pushed open the creaking wooden door of a terraced shop. This was the Golden Circle address they found on the crates in the warehouse. The air inside was thick with the scent of herbs. No items adorned the shop. It was suspiciously devoid of anything. At the back of the shop, there was a long wooden counter, behind which an old man could be seen hunched over some pamphlets. A flickering candle cast eerie shadows across the room.
As the barbarians approached, the old man looked up with piercing, pale blue eyes. “Come to join the Church of The Golden Circle?” He asked. Byron simply said “yes” and then the old man extended a parchment towards them. However, as he did this both barbarians noticed his hands seemed to elongate unnaturally. Suspicion flashed across Trevor's eyes, and Byron's claws twitched in readiness. It was the shapeshifting creature they had seen at the warehouse! Trevor swung his axe, but the old man easily sidestepped the blow. In his zeal, Trevor accidentally struck himself, eliciting a grunt of pain. Byron lashed out as well, but missed the target too.
The old man’s appearance now changed. His whole body seemed to melt, twist and contort. The once feeble figure transformed into a hairless, leathery biped, its face a grotesque canvas of whorls and slits instead of recognizable features. The creature lashed out with surprising speed, missing Trevor but striking Byron across the chest, leaving a gash that oozed dark liquid.
The biped, now a nightmarish entity, dragged Byron towards it. A thin tube extended from its faceless form, aiming to pierce Byron's skin and drain him of his lifeblood.
Byron, fueled by rage, roared and attempted to claw at the creature, but his attacks did little to hinder its advance. Trevor, recognizing the imminent danger, swung his axe once more. The blade sliced into the creature, causing it to convulse in pain but not incapacitating it.
As the creature continued to drain Byron, Little Focker, unleashed two powerful swings of his tail, which cut deeply into the creature's side causing it howl pain. With a thunderous rage, Byron then plunged both his claws into the creature, severing a large portion of its form. The detached mass fell to the floor, convulsing briefly before becoming still.
Trevor, Byron and Little Focker took great satisfaction in vanquishing the nightmarish creature that had disguised itself as the old man. Their victorious roars echoed through the shop, scattering lingering shadows. The severed portion of the creature lay on the floor, a testament to their strength and resilience.
As the adrenaline began to fade, curiosity led the barbarians to explore the mysterious shop further. Their search revealed a trap door concealed beneath a worn rug. With a shared nod, Trevor and Byron heaved the door open, revealing a dark, gaping hole that descended into the city's dirty and stinking sewers.
With a lantern in hand to pierce the thick darkness, the barbarians cautiously descended into the underground labyrinth. The sound of rushing water greeted them, and they soon discovered that the sewer had a powerful current that threatened to drag them under if they ventured into the filthy stream. On either side of the sewer were narrow walkways, slippery with dampness and up ahead they could see a makeshift bridge traversed across the sewer. On the other side of the sewer next to the makeship bridge they could also see a fork to the right.
The barbarians exchanged glances knowing this is where they must venture. But both Trevor and Byron were aware of the perilous monsters rumoured to inhabit the depths below, Otyughs, Dire-Rats, Blackboil Gators to name but a few. These terrible things could leap out and attack them at any given moment. Therefore, the barbarians decided to try something. With a grunt of disdain, Trevor and Byron hefted the remains of the grotesque creature they had defeated earlier and hurled it into the murky waters of the sewer. The mutated body bobbed along the current, carried away by the flow. Trevor and Byron waited in anticipation
Suddenly, bursting from the shadows of the waters, emerged Reefclaws, nightmarish monsters that combined the features of lobsters and eels. Blood-red spines ran down their backs, and their claws snapped eagerly as they sensed the scent of fresh flesh. With swift and voracious movements, the monstrous amalgamations pounced on the remains, tearing into the leathery flesh. The water churned as the Reefclaws engaged in a frenzy of feeding, their attention diverted by the unexpected banquet.
Seizing the opportunity, Trevor and Byron navigated the slippery walkways and crossed the makeshift bridge. The lantern's feeble glow reflected off the damp walls as they moved past the distracted creatures, whose attention remained fixed on the feast before them.
They approached the fork, and decided to explore the side passage. As they advanced deeper into the tunnels, the current of the sewer water intensified. The distant echoes of the Reefclaws' feeding frenzy gradually faded, and the barbarians found themselves looking at a wall on their right that had been deliberately caved in.
The narrow passage led into the unknown, while the main tunnel continued ahead. The lantern's flickering light cast eerie shadows, emphasising the uncertainty of their journey beneath the city. Suddenly sounds of chanting could be heard coming from the narrow tunnel. Byron asked Little Focker to stealthily fly down the tunnel, and then report back to them what was down there. Once again, the little Drake was happy to do Byron’s bidding and he zipped off into the darkness. Within moments he returned.
Little Focker described a chamber that defied all natural laws. The dimensions seemed to warp and twist, making the room appear both larger and smaller than it should be. The very fabric of reality seemed to tremble in this unnaturally incorrect space. At the centre of the chamber, an ancient stone altar stood, upon which rested a large three-quartered stone circle. A mysterious yellow light emanated from its centre, casting an otherworldly glow.
Before the altar was a surreal sight. Two of the same hairless, leathery bipeds they had faced earlier stood, their featureless faces pointed toward the stone circle.And they were chanting. Alarmed, Trevor and Byron nodded to each other, and so with purpose in their steps, they headed down the tunnel prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead.
The barbarians approached silently, moving with practised stealth. The unnatural chamber seemed to amplify every footstep, making them acutely aware of the strangeness surrounding them. The air resonated with an ominous hum as the creatures chanted in a language that seemed to twist and coil around the very essence of the chamber. It was a summoning, an invocation that transcended the boundaries of the natural world.
As they drew closer, the chanting of the bipeds intensified, resonating with an unsettling harmony. The yellow light from the stone circle pulsed rhythmically, as if responding to the cadence of the otherworldly incantation. The air crackled with an energy that set the barbarians' senses on edge.
Without warning, the chanting reached a crescendo, and the stone circle began to radiate a blinding brilliance. Shadows danced along the distorted walls, and the air itself seemed to shiver with anticipation. It was then that the barbarians realised the bipeds were summoning something, something that lurked beyond the veil of their understanding.
Trevor and Byron charged towards the bipeds and attacked them with ferocity.With a guttural roar, Trevor swung his mighty axe at one of the bipeds, aiming to sever whatever dark connection they had with the otherworldly summoning. The biped, however, moved with unnatural speed, dodging the blow and retaliating with a strike that caught Trevor off guard. Claws slashed through the air, leaving a trail of ethereal energy. The surreal chamber seemed to vibrate with an impending clash of forces as the yellow light from the stone circle intensified, casting elongated shadows across the chamber's distorted walls.
Meanwhile, Byron engaged the second biped, his claws poised for a deadly strike. The creature danced with eerie grace, its movements seemingly attuned to the eldritch forces at play. The barbarians fought with all their might, their every swing and thrust countered by the uncanny agility of their adversaries.
As the battle raged, the yellow light from the stone circle seemed to be reaching a blinding crescendo. The very fabric of the chamber seemed to warp, revealing the silhouette of a monstrous dog-like creature poised to burst through the rift between worlds. Its eyes glowed with malevolence, and the air pulsated with its impending arrival.
Sensing the imminent threat, Trevor and Byron, fueled by primal instincts and sheer determination, fought with renewed vigor. Their attacks became more frenzied, the clang of steel against claw echoing through the chamber. But with each passing moment, the monstrous dog drew closer to breaking through the dimensional barrier.
Byron, his claws extended like deadly talons, engaged the second biped in a brutal dance. The leathery creature moved with an unsettling fluidity, contorting its form to evade Byron's strikes. The barbarian's frustration grew as each attempt to land a decisive blow was met with an eerie grace that defied the laws of natural movement.
In a moment of primal synchrony, the barbarians exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them. They had to end this now!
Byron's claws met the creature's leathery hide, ripping through its form with a visceral force. Dark ichor sprayed across the chamber as the biped emitted an otherworldly shriek. Meanwhile, Trevor seized the opportunity and swung his axe in a sweeping arc, connecting with the distracted creature. The impact reverberated through its body, causing it to convulse in agony.
With a coordinated effort, Trevor and Byron closed in on their respective foes. Trevor unleashed a flurry of strikes, each one aimed at weakening the biped's defences. Byron, fueled by a primal rage, drove his claws into the creature's form, tearing away chunks of leathery flesh.
As the bipeds writhed in pain, their unearthly chant now replaced with anguished cries, the barbarians saw an opening. With a final surge of strength, Trevor swung his axe with all his might, severing the head of the first biped. A gush of dark liquid sprayed across the chamber as the lifeless body crumpled to the floor.
Simultaneously, Byron plunged both claws into the second biped's chest, his strength overcoming the creature's otherworldly resilience. The biped let out a final, guttural sound before collapsing alongside its fallen counterpart.
Silence settled over the chamber as the barbarians stood amidst the aftermath of the fierce battle. Their breaths came in ragged gasps, but their work here wasn’t done. The yellow light from the stone circle erupted into blinding brilliance, illuminating the chamber in a burst of ethereal radiance. The beast was coming through! It was a gaunt, long-limbed quadruped that had huge, soulless eyes and a toothy maw. A Hound of Tindalos!
With the last reserves of their strength, Trevor and Byron focused on the stone circle at the centre of the chamber. Straining against the otherworldly forces, they staggered towards the ancient structure, determination etched across their battle-weary faces.
Summoning the remnants of their energy, Trevor and Byron exerted themselves to the limit. With a primal roar, they heaved against the stone circle, the sound of cracking stone mingling with the roars of the monstrous dog.
The stone circle toppled, smashing into pieces on the chamber floor. The dimensional rift wavered, and the monstrous dog's form dissipated like smoke. The air itself seemed to sigh in relief as the otherworldly energies receded.
Exhausted and battered, Trevor and Byron sank to their knees amidst the shattered remnants of the stone circle, victorious but on the brink of collapse. The once-unnatural chamber returned to a semblance of normalcy, and the air no longer crackled with eldritch energy. The barbarians were triumphant yet drained.
As they took stock of the situation, the pieces of the puzzles of this mystery all came together. On the night of the fight, where Byron had fought and defeated the Shoanti Mauler, The Golden Circle both lost their building to Lamm and almost all of their money by betting on the Mauler. At the same time, Benni, in his drugged up state, celebrating Byron's victory had been heard shouting “Melting face! Melting face!” and pointing to the Maulers assistant. That’s because he was a shapeshifting Biped and just for a moment the ‘mask’ had slipped. Out of spite and fear of discovery, The Biped followed Benni back to the Orphanage that night and acted out its vengeance. It had taken years for the Golden Circle to get back to where they were, and taking over the Cerulean society territory was part of its plans. Summoning creatures from another dimensional to wreak havoc and chaos on the city was also part of their ‘powerplay’
Trevor, Byron and Little Focker had foiled their plans, saved the city and at the same time served justice for their friend Benni. Despite being battered and bruised, scarred and bloody, they all felt good. Very good. But they hoped somewhere, a little halfling was looking down on them with a little smile on his face saying “well done fellas! Ya fecking killed them! Ya fecking killed them! Good on ya!”
The End
Epilogue
The butler at Eudicot villa had just managed to clean the blood and grime the two uncouth barbarians had spilt on the lobbys pristine marble floor. It had been an arduous task but at least it was now done. The freshly cleaned lobby of the villa now exuded an atmosphere of pristine elegance and opulence. A subtle symphony of fragrances enveloped – a delicate blend of citrusy notes from polished wood, the faint hint of lavender from the recently dusted surfaces, and a touch of floral undertones from freshly arranged bouquets. The air was crisp and invigorating again, carrying a sense of luxury that permeated every corner.
A gleam of satisfaction and pride shone in the Butler’s eyes. His dedication to maintaining the villa's pristine condition was more than a duty; it was a reflection of his commitment to the art of hospitality and service. The satisfaction of a job well done radiated from him as he surveyed the lobby, ensuring that every detail was in its rightful place. Life at the villa was now back to normal.
Suddenly, the villa’s gates bell rang. “What now?” he thought. He straightened his meticulously tailored jacket, adjusted his black bow tie, so it was perfectly tied and positioned at the collar, pushed his shoulders back and slowly opened the grand door in the most genteel and elegant way possible.
To his horror, standing there were the same two barbarians and their rodent like pet, the Drake, that had soiled the villa’s presence earlier that day. And this time they were in an even worse state. They were battered, bruised and bore vicious wounds from another fight. Blood streaked across their weathered armour, mixed with a sickly dark ichor. But that wasn’t the worst part. The smell that clung to them though was overwhelmingly nauseating. They smelt like the sewers, reeking of the stench of decay and filth. It permeated the air around them, not only clinging to their clothes and hair but now seemed to fill the villa’s entire lobby.
And they were smiling!
“Ey up lad!” said Trevor “Good to see you again!”
The butler, holding his mouth not to gag, just stood there, utterly dumbfounded that these two ‘oiks’ were standing in his lobby once more.
“We just wanted to return this” said Trevor handing him the crystal vial of healing that Mimsi had generously given the earlier. The butler looked down at the crystal cut vile and saw it was smeared in bile, blood and ichor as were his snow white gloves now.
“Yeh” said Byron, slapping the Butlers shoulder with his bloody, offal stained hand “We don’t need no healing potion”.
“Thanks anyway!” said Trevor and then the two hulking warriors, turned around and departed the villa, leaving the butler, standing in the lobby in a state of utter despair.
His pristine suit, a harmonious blend of tradition and contemporary style, embodying the highest standards of service and presenting a visual embodiment of the villa's commitment to luxury and excellence, was ruined. He could never wear it again. But far worse than that was the lobby. It would need cleaning. Again. But the smell, by god the smell would take him at least a week to eradicate. Lady Eudicot would not be pleased. Not pleased at all!
Perhaps, the Butler, thought it might be time to change professions.
