- Pronouns
- He
Yeah, Erza being basically a pre-teen spartacus in her backstory is something that often get´s not featured in stories with her, despite it being a pretty awesome part of her backstory
(Fairy Tail/ Warhammer Fantasy) The Fairy Queen of Tilea
- Thread starter AllenWalker
- Start date
chapter 7
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 7
"So may I ask what does a radiant and delicate Rose like you do in a town like this?" The noble began the conversation as he led Erza through the house, dismissing the many servants that rushed in to greet him.
"There were beastmen scouts at my companion's home, I came to warn the townsfolk of a potentially large warherd, as he called it." Erza replied with some impatience. Her hunger for sweets had distracted her from the task, there was no time to dally. Also did he just call her a delicate flower? Maybe her previous assessment of his observation skill had been erroneous.
"Is that so? Beastmen are rare around these parts but they are far from unheard of. Are you certain?" He actually straightened up at the mention of the threat. "How did they look like? How many were there?"
"I saw two, Father Grimaldi claimed they were a vanguard." Erza answered, eyeing her surroundings. The opening foyer seemed to be rather tacky by her standards; huge paintings lined the walls, a third were of him. Cases of gold and jeweled trinkets were set up on pedestals, gaudy things that seemed to only exist to show off how much money the owner had. Beyond was a 'living room' as she thought of it, with fine upholstery that was colored in reds and blues, with some green for a slight change. All of it looked tremendously expensive.
Passing by a couple servants, Erza took a second to admire the clean clothes the women had, black outfits with white aprons and tops, their caps hiding their hair. The two moved with graceful haste, professional in how they started cleaning the furniture with a close eye for detail. A man in a bright orange uniform and a strange hat of the same colour carried a gleaming platter towards another room offering some form of grilled meat, barely the size of a small pig, sliced into thin stripes. Her mouth watered when a whiff of bubbling honey reached her nose.
"Take as much as you want, the food here Was prepared by the Best cooks money can get you." The man himself took a slice and gnawed at it, gesturing at her to mirror him. Erza took two and chomped, squeeing at the delicious flavor.
"It's fantastic! What is this?" She only barely stopped herself from taking more.
"Some beast imported from araby. It's quite difficult to catch but that makes it only more of a treat." As Emanuello ate he gestured for the servant to come closer, before whispering something into his ear. The butler simply nodded before moving away in all haste.
Emanuello veered towards a room that looked like a study, where another servant dutifully came to meet them, carrying the plate of the first. This one looked decidedly younger, his brown hair a strong contrast to the former greyness. Like the older man however, he was as silent and disciplined as the rest, though he stared at her longer than necessary. Erza glanced down, wondering how often his master took in armored guests.
Unlike the rest of the mansion, the study was so bare that Erza briefly wondered if she entered the wrong room: there were bookcases, a cluttered desk, and a handful of chairs with a couch, but everything was so much more humble than outside.
"Surprised? The ostentatiousness is to impress my guests, here is where I actually work." Emanuello explained, gesturing at a seat. "Please, sit. Your feet must be sore after your long journey."
"I'm well enough, thank you." Erza turned when the younger butler returned, carrying a plate with a bottle and two glasses resting on top.
"Nonsense. Traveling all this way with your father, carrying around that heavy armor, surely your politeness must not extend that far." He smiled warmly.
"Well… alright." She decided he meant well enough, it'd be rude to turn him down. Why did he say she came here with her father? Was he alright?
Taking a seat, the butler placed the platter on a small table between them and poured two glasses of red fluid, a sniff confirming it was wine. Emanuello nodded to dismiss the butler, ending his wide eyed staring. Like she expected of a noble he made a big show of taking a whiff of the wine.
"Ah, perfect. This is a rare chatelle vintage from Bretonnia, its over twenty years old. Its quite difficult to acquire at the best of times, demand far outstrips supply. It is said this is favored among ambitious nobles from that nation." He swirled the cup.
"It sounds good." Erza took a cup and sipped, bracing herself: to her relief it didn't taste like pond water as normally super aged wines tended to be. In fact it was quite sweet as wines go.
Erza drank more, savoring the taste; She was usually not supposed to drink any alcohol, her friends told her she became strange whenever she did. Why she did not know, she couldn't quite remember the last time. She just remembered that something had caused lucy to go sick, whenever she looked at her face had gone terribly red. She also refused to speak of her for days. Not to mention that Mira had been horribly smug for some reason.
Oh well, a sip or two couldn't hurt, what was the worst that could happen?
"Only the finest for such a lovely flower as yourself. I wonder, are all women from Fiore as stunning as you?" Emanullo shifted in his seat, observing her.
"Not by far, a lot are much prettier." Erza thought of Mirajane when she said that, wishing she were here too. She would keep him busy while she sampled the wine, pouring herself another glass and ignoring him trying to reach for her; she could get more herself.
"Oh really? I find that hard to believe given your appearance. Please, there's no need to be so modest." Emanullo waved off, having not even finished his first glass.
"Its the truth. Just like the threat to Corno." Erza remembered with a frown. "Have you sent word to warn the town?"
"As we are speaking Carlos is contacting the town guard. He's the servant from before. Though I feel you're overreacting, your father struggling against two beastmen does not mean the guard or the local mercenaries will face the same trouble. And anything they can't handle Skeerig and his clan will take care off." He outlined. "They are a dawi throng from one of the holds my father has a trade treaty with." He quickly expanded, seeing her confused face. "He delivered them many large caravans of food and ale when the accursed skaven poisoned and consumed their supplies. Since them they consider themselves into our debt and send their warriors to protect our caravans."
He showed a smug smile, undoubtedly remembering some fond memory. "Many of the trinkets and statues in the entrances were made of dawi artisans, in fact."
"Nevertheless." Erza drained her third cup and thought for a second; he still hadn't finished his first glass, and he did look somewhat surprised at the sheer speed she was dumping them down. Was she seeing a flash of slight concern into his eyes? Nah, she wouldn´t know why.
This stuff was really sweet, not as sweet as strawberry cake, but still good. Nothing like the bitter stuff Cana usually gulped down. Oh, she was actually starting to get a bit lightheaded. Best she'd stop after two or three more glasses. She decided on the latter as she downed another cup.
"Please, have no fear. The warriors of Tilea are impressive the world over, and dwarven throngs impress the Tileans. There's nothing to worry about." His expression twitched, Erza thought he did anyway. She was feeling woozy, another glass of wine should help. "Um, Miss Scarlet, are you…"
"Huh? Oh I'm fine." Draining the… second? Yes, second cup with a gulp, Erza slammed the fancy glass on the table, somehow avoiding smashing it. "Why aren't you *hic* taking this seriously?"
"I-I am. Calm down lady Erza." He was more than a bit twitchy just now.
"Calm down? How *hic* can I when you are sitting around?" Erza growled, weaving from side to side in her seat. "Those foul vulcans are *hic* amassing right now, or, whatever they are. Beastmen. Whatever."
Jolting to her feet, Erza immediately lost her balance; swinging her arms wildly, she flailed as she threatened to tip over at the slightest twitch. For a split second she started falling with a cry, only to be stopped from a helpful gauntlet grabbing the chair for stability. She thanked that mystery person as she let go of the chair, shoving past the table while Emanuello quickly rose to his feet.
"I shall, woah, ah, I will deal with those monsters, as a *hic* Fairy Tail wizard." Erza slurred, stumbling towards the door.
"Wait, Lady Erza!" Emanuello was pancicking. "Please, sit down! And be careful of that!" He warned her of a large glass statue, shaped to look like a map of Tilea. "Its very-"
Thunk. *crash*
"-fragile." He gawked at her throwing the doors open.
Another orange clad guard blocked her path. "Lady Erza, I can't let you leave while inebriated-"
Thunk. He hit the floor a second later on his back, his chin already starting to swell. Erza blearily groaned, wondering what was wrong with him. She didn't punch him that hard, was there something wrong with her hand? With a snarl she swung in irritation, hitting something else; when she turned she saw no one, so with a shrug she tripped over a foot and staggered into the hallway.
"Oh no, by blessed myrmidia, what did you do?!" Turning her head, Erza beheld a maid gawking in place, having dropped a plate of… pastries! Delectable sweets, splattered against the ground.
She recoiled in horror, then her rage grew. "You…"
"Wait, wait! Please don't-" the maid tried to back away.
Erza lurched towards her, bumping another fancy statue to crash it into the ground. Ignoring the crunching rock under her boots, she grinned lecherously as she raised her hands, making grabby motions at the maid, who was on the verge of screaming.
"I, *hic* shall punish you." Erza heaved, weaving from one wall to the other towards her victim. "Deep, severe pun-"
Thunk.
Erza hit the floor in a pile of wine smelling armor, twitching once before groaning. In just seconds she was starting to snore, blissfully unaware of the lump on the back of her head.
Breathing heavily, Emanuello lowered the ceremonial golden mace he once bought from a Dawi Hold. It was nearly bent in half, the sculpted top now flattened with a slight curve, as if it was moulded to her skull. Gulping in fear, he ignored the incredible pain in his chin ame checked to make sure how injured he was. Reaching down he felt up through her red main, seeking for the hole he had surely caved into her skull.
There was nothing, not even a little bruise? It was like she just passed out instead of getting her head split open! How-? Wait, she had mentioned that she was a witch? Could it be? It would explain her incredible beauty and voluptuous body; had he accidentally let in an agent of the fell gods? He had merely heard of them in the works of Detlef Sierck that his father had forced him onto with numerous different rich merchant princes, daughters and foreign nobles. Works about that dreaded monster a Coung once slew, one sworn to dark powers.
"My lord!" Was the announcement of several armed guards rushing up, decked out in full armor and weapons, one even carrying an Empire made pistol that he aimed at the snoring witch.
"I'm alright. See to Marchio's injuries. As for… her." Emanuello grimaced. "Lady Erza is under arrest for suspicion of witchcraft. Bind her in the strongest chains the town has, something not even an ogre can break out of. Strip her of all belongings, clothes, necklaces, whatever. Check her whole body for any strange signs and report them to me."
The guard's eyes fell on the witch and grinned lecherously. He for one simply groaned and put the half bend mace under his chin. "Do not indulge yourself in her. Myrmidia alone knows how their ill-begotten kin's corruption spreads. If you do so, I will cut you down myself!"
For a moment he contemplated doing so anyway, before shaking his head. Who knew what plot they had conspired too. Were there really beastmen here? Had they simply been a distraction? A conspiracy? No, there was too much unknown to act too hastily here.
"And get her father as well!" By the goddess, the man would regret imitating a faithful servant of Myrmidia dearly! "Ready the guards, both of the caravan and the town! I fear we all are in great danger!"
Goddess, why hadn't he just kept his hands off the pretty woman?
AN:
Chapter 7 is done. Even managed to bring it out on a borderline acceptable timescale. Yay me!
Please, tell me what you all think of it, what you liked and what you didn´t and enjoy your day.
"So may I ask what does a radiant and delicate Rose like you do in a town like this?" The noble began the conversation as he led Erza through the house, dismissing the many servants that rushed in to greet him.
"There were beastmen scouts at my companion's home, I came to warn the townsfolk of a potentially large warherd, as he called it." Erza replied with some impatience. Her hunger for sweets had distracted her from the task, there was no time to dally. Also did he just call her a delicate flower? Maybe her previous assessment of his observation skill had been erroneous.
"Is that so? Beastmen are rare around these parts but they are far from unheard of. Are you certain?" He actually straightened up at the mention of the threat. "How did they look like? How many were there?"
"I saw two, Father Grimaldi claimed they were a vanguard." Erza answered, eyeing her surroundings. The opening foyer seemed to be rather tacky by her standards; huge paintings lined the walls, a third were of him. Cases of gold and jeweled trinkets were set up on pedestals, gaudy things that seemed to only exist to show off how much money the owner had. Beyond was a 'living room' as she thought of it, with fine upholstery that was colored in reds and blues, with some green for a slight change. All of it looked tremendously expensive.
Passing by a couple servants, Erza took a second to admire the clean clothes the women had, black outfits with white aprons and tops, their caps hiding their hair. The two moved with graceful haste, professional in how they started cleaning the furniture with a close eye for detail. A man in a bright orange uniform and a strange hat of the same colour carried a gleaming platter towards another room offering some form of grilled meat, barely the size of a small pig, sliced into thin stripes. Her mouth watered when a whiff of bubbling honey reached her nose.
"Take as much as you want, the food here Was prepared by the Best cooks money can get you." The man himself took a slice and gnawed at it, gesturing at her to mirror him. Erza took two and chomped, squeeing at the delicious flavor.
"It's fantastic! What is this?" She only barely stopped herself from taking more.
"Some beast imported from araby. It's quite difficult to catch but that makes it only more of a treat." As Emanuello ate he gestured for the servant to come closer, before whispering something into his ear. The butler simply nodded before moving away in all haste.
Emanuello veered towards a room that looked like a study, where another servant dutifully came to meet them, carrying the plate of the first. This one looked decidedly younger, his brown hair a strong contrast to the former greyness. Like the older man however, he was as silent and disciplined as the rest, though he stared at her longer than necessary. Erza glanced down, wondering how often his master took in armored guests.
Unlike the rest of the mansion, the study was so bare that Erza briefly wondered if she entered the wrong room: there were bookcases, a cluttered desk, and a handful of chairs with a couch, but everything was so much more humble than outside.
"Surprised? The ostentatiousness is to impress my guests, here is where I actually work." Emanuello explained, gesturing at a seat. "Please, sit. Your feet must be sore after your long journey."
"I'm well enough, thank you." Erza turned when the younger butler returned, carrying a plate with a bottle and two glasses resting on top.
"Nonsense. Traveling all this way with your father, carrying around that heavy armor, surely your politeness must not extend that far." He smiled warmly.
"Well… alright." She decided he meant well enough, it'd be rude to turn him down. Why did he say she came here with her father? Was he alright?
Taking a seat, the butler placed the platter on a small table between them and poured two glasses of red fluid, a sniff confirming it was wine. Emanuello nodded to dismiss the butler, ending his wide eyed staring. Like she expected of a noble he made a big show of taking a whiff of the wine.
"Ah, perfect. This is a rare chatelle vintage from Bretonnia, its over twenty years old. Its quite difficult to acquire at the best of times, demand far outstrips supply. It is said this is favored among ambitious nobles from that nation." He swirled the cup.
"It sounds good." Erza took a cup and sipped, bracing herself: to her relief it didn't taste like pond water as normally super aged wines tended to be. In fact it was quite sweet as wines go.
Erza drank more, savoring the taste; She was usually not supposed to drink any alcohol, her friends told her she became strange whenever she did. Why she did not know, she couldn't quite remember the last time. She just remembered that something had caused lucy to go sick, whenever she looked at her face had gone terribly red. She also refused to speak of her for days. Not to mention that Mira had been horribly smug for some reason.
Oh well, a sip or two couldn't hurt, what was the worst that could happen?
"Only the finest for such a lovely flower as yourself. I wonder, are all women from Fiore as stunning as you?" Emanullo shifted in his seat, observing her.
"Not by far, a lot are much prettier." Erza thought of Mirajane when she said that, wishing she were here too. She would keep him busy while she sampled the wine, pouring herself another glass and ignoring him trying to reach for her; she could get more herself.
"Oh really? I find that hard to believe given your appearance. Please, there's no need to be so modest." Emanullo waved off, having not even finished his first glass.
"Its the truth. Just like the threat to Corno." Erza remembered with a frown. "Have you sent word to warn the town?"
"As we are speaking Carlos is contacting the town guard. He's the servant from before. Though I feel you're overreacting, your father struggling against two beastmen does not mean the guard or the local mercenaries will face the same trouble. And anything they can't handle Skeerig and his clan will take care off." He outlined. "They are a dawi throng from one of the holds my father has a trade treaty with." He quickly expanded, seeing her confused face. "He delivered them many large caravans of food and ale when the accursed skaven poisoned and consumed their supplies. Since them they consider themselves into our debt and send their warriors to protect our caravans."
He showed a smug smile, undoubtedly remembering some fond memory. "Many of the trinkets and statues in the entrances were made of dawi artisans, in fact."
"Nevertheless." Erza drained her third cup and thought for a second; he still hadn't finished his first glass, and he did look somewhat surprised at the sheer speed she was dumping them down. Was she seeing a flash of slight concern into his eyes? Nah, she wouldn´t know why.
This stuff was really sweet, not as sweet as strawberry cake, but still good. Nothing like the bitter stuff Cana usually gulped down. Oh, she was actually starting to get a bit lightheaded. Best she'd stop after two or three more glasses. She decided on the latter as she downed another cup.
"Please, have no fear. The warriors of Tilea are impressive the world over, and dwarven throngs impress the Tileans. There's nothing to worry about." His expression twitched, Erza thought he did anyway. She was feeling woozy, another glass of wine should help. "Um, Miss Scarlet, are you…"
"Huh? Oh I'm fine." Draining the… second? Yes, second cup with a gulp, Erza slammed the fancy glass on the table, somehow avoiding smashing it. "Why aren't you *hic* taking this seriously?"
"I-I am. Calm down lady Erza." He was more than a bit twitchy just now.
"Calm down? How *hic* can I when you are sitting around?" Erza growled, weaving from side to side in her seat. "Those foul vulcans are *hic* amassing right now, or, whatever they are. Beastmen. Whatever."
Jolting to her feet, Erza immediately lost her balance; swinging her arms wildly, she flailed as she threatened to tip over at the slightest twitch. For a split second she started falling with a cry, only to be stopped from a helpful gauntlet grabbing the chair for stability. She thanked that mystery person as she let go of the chair, shoving past the table while Emanuello quickly rose to his feet.
"I shall, woah, ah, I will deal with those monsters, as a *hic* Fairy Tail wizard." Erza slurred, stumbling towards the door.
"Wait, Lady Erza!" Emanuello was pancicking. "Please, sit down! And be careful of that!" He warned her of a large glass statue, shaped to look like a map of Tilea. "Its very-"
Thunk. *crash*
"-fragile." He gawked at her throwing the doors open.
Another orange clad guard blocked her path. "Lady Erza, I can't let you leave while inebriated-"
Thunk. He hit the floor a second later on his back, his chin already starting to swell. Erza blearily groaned, wondering what was wrong with him. She didn't punch him that hard, was there something wrong with her hand? With a snarl she swung in irritation, hitting something else; when she turned she saw no one, so with a shrug she tripped over a foot and staggered into the hallway.
"Oh no, by blessed myrmidia, what did you do?!" Turning her head, Erza beheld a maid gawking in place, having dropped a plate of… pastries! Delectable sweets, splattered against the ground.
She recoiled in horror, then her rage grew. "You…"
"Wait, wait! Please don't-" the maid tried to back away.
Erza lurched towards her, bumping another fancy statue to crash it into the ground. Ignoring the crunching rock under her boots, she grinned lecherously as she raised her hands, making grabby motions at the maid, who was on the verge of screaming.
"I, *hic* shall punish you." Erza heaved, weaving from one wall to the other towards her victim. "Deep, severe pun-"
Thunk.
Erza hit the floor in a pile of wine smelling armor, twitching once before groaning. In just seconds she was starting to snore, blissfully unaware of the lump on the back of her head.
Breathing heavily, Emanuello lowered the ceremonial golden mace he once bought from a Dawi Hold. It was nearly bent in half, the sculpted top now flattened with a slight curve, as if it was moulded to her skull. Gulping in fear, he ignored the incredible pain in his chin ame checked to make sure how injured he was. Reaching down he felt up through her red main, seeking for the hole he had surely caved into her skull.
There was nothing, not even a little bruise? It was like she just passed out instead of getting her head split open! How-? Wait, she had mentioned that she was a witch? Could it be? It would explain her incredible beauty and voluptuous body; had he accidentally let in an agent of the fell gods? He had merely heard of them in the works of Detlef Sierck that his father had forced him onto with numerous different rich merchant princes, daughters and foreign nobles. Works about that dreaded monster a Coung once slew, one sworn to dark powers.
"My lord!" Was the announcement of several armed guards rushing up, decked out in full armor and weapons, one even carrying an Empire made pistol that he aimed at the snoring witch.
"I'm alright. See to Marchio's injuries. As for… her." Emanuello grimaced. "Lady Erza is under arrest for suspicion of witchcraft. Bind her in the strongest chains the town has, something not even an ogre can break out of. Strip her of all belongings, clothes, necklaces, whatever. Check her whole body for any strange signs and report them to me."
The guard's eyes fell on the witch and grinned lecherously. He for one simply groaned and put the half bend mace under his chin. "Do not indulge yourself in her. Myrmidia alone knows how their ill-begotten kin's corruption spreads. If you do so, I will cut you down myself!"
For a moment he contemplated doing so anyway, before shaking his head. Who knew what plot they had conspired too. Were there really beastmen here? Had they simply been a distraction? A conspiracy? No, there was too much unknown to act too hastily here.
"And get her father as well!" By the goddess, the man would regret imitating a faithful servant of Myrmidia dearly! "Ready the guards, both of the caravan and the town! I fear we all are in great danger!"
Goddess, why hadn't he just kept his hands off the pretty woman?
AN:
Chapter 7 is done. Even managed to bring it out on a borderline acceptable timescale. Yay me!
Please, tell me what you all think of it, what you liked and what you didn´t and enjoy your day.
- Pronouns
- He
Yeah, It will take a while but eventually
- Location
- indonesia
Erza is cinnamon roll.
With the amount of destruction, she is in debt and I can see here as the beginning of her journey as telia queen, it's just unfortunate that future Warhammer historians will ignore her misdemeanor before it.
A lot of fairy tail shenanigans are covered by Makarov. You can see in the early chapter at the guilds meeting he complain about their collateral damage and the cost.
With the amount of destruction, she is in debt and I can see here as the beginning of her journey as telia queen, it's just unfortunate that future Warhammer historians will ignore her misdemeanor before it.
- Location
- The Black Moon
That sounds positively awful. There's nothing worse than having a joke played complete straight, with "realistic consequences."
- Pronouns
- He
the best of cinnamon rollsErza is cinnamon roll.
A lot of fairy tail shenanigans are covered by Makarov. You can see in the early chapter at the guilds meeting he complain about their collateral damage and the cost.
With the amount of destruction, she is in debt and I can see here as the beginning of her journey as telia queen, it's just unfortunate that future Warhammer historians will ignore her misdemeanor before it.
Oh I´m not really doing that either. I´m happy to insert some much needed lightheartedness into whf. Which isn´t to say i am going to shelf the darkness of whf, just that at the moment we ain´t there yet. This is just the set up for a later joke, notably
Erza failed her task successfully. The tileans don´t take a beastman threat seriously. Crazed cultists or some rival family pulling some shit otoh? Oh corno will be on high alert!
- Location
- United States
It can be done well actually- like when the heroes in Konosuba are riding high off of defeating a monster, only to realize that they actually lost money beccause they destroyed the monster so throughly that there is nothing to be sold afterwards, and the attack did collateral damage that they have to pay for- Or in that one short anime that was 90% jokes about impractical female armor, the king tells them to go fight the big bad and gives them a handful of gold, they at first respectfully ask for more because prepping for such a quest is expensive, and the back and forth gets heated and he ends up arresting them all.
Consequences can be a punchline- including the consequences when the people who blew Erza off realize 1 she was completely right when a warherd arives, 2 that she is incredibly dangerous when she gets released along with her "father" to help in the defences and 3 that they might have made an enemy of the most deadly person on the continent.
- Pronouns
- He
of course he´d get decked into the schnoz, was there ever any other way this could end?
Chapter 8
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 8
When Erza awoke she couldn´t help but led out a groan. Why did her head feel like half a dozen natsu´s were pounding on it? She moved to grip her forehead, but instead she heard a rattle before her arm was blocked. Snapping her eyes open, she blinked at the dim light pouring through a small windowcell, into a room of cold stone brick. Her breath caught, shifting to feel a mass of metal that practically cocooned her; there had to be her body's weight in iron chains from her neck down.
The cold cell, where were her friends? Why couldn't she move? Why did everything hurt? Kyoka, that smiling demon rippling her claws, then pain, pain, pain!
Erza thrashed a second, quick breaths slowing by force of will. She forced herself to stop and think, not give into fear. She wasn't locked deep within Tartaros, this cell was infinitely better than that pit; straw covered the floor, there was warm sunlight coming through the window, and when she shifted herself she felt scratchy clothes under the chains. It felt like low quality wool, but there was something between her skin and the scratchy chains.
"Miss Scarlet, you're awake!" Exclaimed a familiar voice.
Erza looked up and smiled, then winced. "Father Grimaldi, why are you here?"
The priest looked mostly unharmed, his robes were somewhat dirty and scuffed. His wrists and ankles were bound by shackles which left him hobbling, though unlike her he wasn't affixed to the wall as well. He smiled back before concern flooded his expression.
"Are you alright? You were unconscious for a while." He fussed.
"I am alright, this isn't the worst place I've woken up in." Erza thought mainly of Hades Island, though she had some uncomfortable reminders of the Tower of Heaven as well. "What about you?"
He huffed in mock indignation. "Apart from some ignoble treatment of a man of faith, well enough. They did take my possessions as well as yours."
"That explains this." Erza halted a shiver. "How long have we been here?"
"A day now. They have provided food and water." His nose wrinkled at the thought. "Well if you can call it that." He spit at a nearby bowl containing what charitably might be called food. Uncharitably it was brown water and some bread that was more mold than grain.
"What happened?" Erza desperately tried to remember the last day. Why were she and her companion in prison? The last thing she remembered was accompanying that Noble into his house. She wanted to warn him about the beastmen….
"Oi! Quit yer yappin!" A deep yet somehow young voice shouted, followed by a loud clang against the cell bars. Raffaelo flinched, Erza merely turned her head.
Walking up to the bars was an odd figure, a man as short as Wendy or Master Makarov yet nearly as wide, clad in thick metal plate that left a neck length beard dangling. He looked to be rather young in spite of the beard and his general thickness. His runty eyes narrowed at the sight, hefting a short handed ax to again rap it against the bars.
"I was merely discussing my counterpart's condition, dwarf." Raffaelo replied testily.
"Doesn't matter, you're not suppose'd to talk." The dwarf shot back, gazing away with light fear at another couple dwarves marching up, along with a sour faced human guard.
"See? All good." An older dwarf gestured at Erza insistently.
"Yes, what fine work you've done. Worth every coin." He said dryly. "So much better than we lowly humans. There is no way that normal chains could´ve been enough, we had to use your oh so special, and naturally expensive, bindings instead."
"Bah, tis not our fault yer boss don't trust ya. Baratok!" He suddenly barked, the younger dwarf jolting and hurriedly adjusting his hold on his weapon.
"Ah, y-yes Captain Rumpslayer?" He stuttered.
"We're goin for a drink beardling, its on the house." The dwarf barked, and the guard groaned. "I don't wanchu talkin to those umgi without me present, got me beardling?"
"Yessir." Baratok nodded quickly.
"Good lad, don't disappoint me." The dwarves rumbled off with their companion in tow, who looked like he swallowed a lemon.
When they were gone Baratok sighed. "Left me again, not even with any extra ale." He despondently grabbed a small flask, which rattled hollowly. "Just my luck."
"Wait a moment, what did he mean by special chains?" Raffaelo gripped the bars with a rattle.
"Oh, uh, I shouldn't be speaking to you without my captain around." Baratok looked much less certain now that his apparent elder wasn't around.
"If it's so strong then there's no harm in telling me. See?" Erza flexed against the chains, getting only a rattle. After a second she amended that, there was a weird tingle whenever she used any strength against the metal, like it was blocking her.
"Well, uh… as long as you don't tell my sergeant." Baratok rolled his stubby shoulders. "Those are runic chains of binding, they were made in Karaz Kaferkammaz for the mercenary companies that set out from the Hold. They can hold down a giant."
"Really, that's amazing." Erza was impressed; magic chains weren't unknown to her, though as she looked closer she saw the craftsmanship was actually far better than she thought. Smooth, well wrought, they were almost fancy compared to Raffaelo's bindings.
"They are. My great uncle crafted those, he was proud of it. I, uh, tried to be his apprentice, but…" he shrugged pensively. "Dunno why Lord Emanuello wanted these on you, but we do what our contracts specify. I figured once your armor was off you wouldn't need more than basics like your friend here."
"My armor? What do you know of it?" Erza snapped up.
Baratok abruptly gulped. "Lord Emanuello was, uh, insistent that the Dawi mercenaries be the ones to, ah, imprison you. He didn't want his own men to lay a hand on you. As the youngest dawi of this company, I…"
"Well, that's some good news." Raffaelo muttered.
"I mean, you're pretty for an umgi-erm, human, but you're still just an umgi." Baratok waved his ax, accidentally clattering it off the bars.
"I see." Erza narrowed her eyes. "Where did you put my armor after you stripped me?"
"Uh, I'm not supposed to tell you. Rumpslayer took it anyway, I dunno where." He answered, gulping. "A-anyway, I'm not supposed to be talking to prisoners anyway." He said quickly, whipping around to show his back even faster. He was out of arms reach anyway, Erza couldn't have grabbed it even if she wanted to.
She probably could have, depending on how earnest the small man´s boasts of their chains were, but that would probably put her in even more trouble than she already was. She didn't want to behave like Natsu and cause more unnecessary damage.
"What can we expect to let out of here?" She asked. Surely the local authorities would be reasonable and not keep them in prison for too long? She couldn't remember what she did, but that probably meant it wasn't something too bad anyway.
The dawi just stared at her for a couple seconds, before shaking his head and laughing, saying something about Dumi worshipping Umgi being really as crazy as his master always told him. Whatever uncertainty that led to his talk spell had evaporated, partly because she heard stomping feet approaching.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Emanuello found himself feeling quite anxious. Not for the usual reasons of worrying over his rivals or if the damned skaven were trying to assassinate him again, but over his unusual prisoner, someone his aching chin wouldn't let him forget for even a minute.
"Are you sure those two witches are secured?" He stressed. To think that worshippers of chaos had come so close to him, to think that he had invited them -her- into his own private quarters, by Myrmidia! He really had to stop getting drawn to attractive women, they were always trouble.
Even if they were as breathtaking as Erza Scarlet.
Master Goric Thunderpeak, the head of the dwarf mercenary throng his father had hired to protect the caravan, and him as Emanuello had admitted with some difficulty, snorted simply. "The chains that hold them now had been worked on by the best runesmiths of Karak Kaferkammaz, they aren't the kind of umgi work you are used to." He didn´t say anything further, apparently that that was all that needed to be said on that topic.
"And what of magic? Surely even you must be worried about witch touch." Emanuello forced the issue.
"Runes of Warding are on those cells. You'd need something stronger than a plain witch to break a single rune, even a witch that trucks with fell powers." Master Thunderpeak was just as dismissive. "And before you prattle on any further, I'll remind you that even the beardlings of my throng have far more experience than your men. My youngest men are tougher and more steadfast than any guard you've hired."
Anyone else and Emanuello would be furious at this flagrant disrespect and would have laughed at those boasts. Not with the dawi. He had personally seen how his force of a mere two hundred had dispatched bandit bands many times the size of his own with ease during the time of his travels. Thunderpeak was barely more friendly now than when they first met, but never once had he failed to deliver on his terms; if he said something was done, it was.
His doubt in the old dwarf was as rude as his behavior towards him, but he had to be sure. Something he seemed to pick up on.
"You felled her by breaking a decent decoration piece on her head. How dangerous can one woman really be?" Thunderpeak raised a bushy brow.
Emanuello was moderately sure that her being "felled" had nothing to do with his striking prowess and more that she simply couldn't take a drink all that well, but he kept those suspicions to himself. He had already embarrassed himself enough in front of the mercenary captain, no need to further that.
"And about the threat of further attacks? We can't just assume they were handling it alone." He was certain he could take any cultist in a direct flight, and like any noble of Tilea, he was well prepared against poison or nightly assassins, but an attack by magic? It was not something he had much experience in fending off.
"You went through the trouble of getting my throng here, that's more than enough. Even without that you're rotating the guards and having your personal staff keep an eye on them. You wanna call in another wizard to be sure?" Thunderpeak turned up his nose at the idea, but it was a genuine question. "I've dealt with magic before, up north in the imperial lands, and down south in Araby. Don't leave things to chance and magic can't hurt you. You've done a lot to keep chance where it belongs."
Emanuello nodded testily, feeling disagreeable with that statement. "Very well. Nonetheless, keep an eye on them. That woman especially."
There was still some time before his scouts got back, doing their usual searches for skaven burrows or Orc nests. Enough time to go to his study, where he ordered Erza's belongings be placed; locking the door behind him, he approached the weapons and armor she wore in this very room yesterday.
Tracing his hands over the breastplate, he marveled at its touch. It felt like steel instead of something more exotic like gromil, but he knew quality when he saw it. Not to dawi standards yet still a league apart from his men. And not only that, there were telltale signs of repairs; creases from being bent back into shape, waves from reforging, additional lines of thoroughly careful repairs. He was so distracted by Erza's beauty that he didn't see she displayed her prowess in plain sight.
His eyes fell on the sword next. It was an exotic thing, a curved single edge weapon that resembles the bizarre swords from the Far East. The hilt was largely unadorned save for a small brass guard and a small cloth wrap, and the grip only had a small set of beads connected to a rope. One side of the blade was black while the other was steel. Overall it was well made, but lacking in ornaments.
And yet, Emanuello had trouble looking away from the sword. It had a presence to it that grabbed his eyes and didn't let go; rubbing his ear, he checked the room to find himself alone. So why did he feel like someone whispered in his ear?
"Maybe…" he mumbled to himself. There were tall tales from imperials and occasionally bretonnians, of extremely rare weapons used by dreaded northmen, weapons that had a foul presence bound to their existence, granting their wielders boons.
On the other hand, he had seen runic weapons before. Thunderpeak himself carried a rune-inscribed hammer at all times, giving the evil eye to even his own men to keep them from touching it. They were powerful tools that could be temperamental, but as long as the user was careful nothing could befall them.
The sword Erza carried, it didn't seem like it was tainted. Powerful certainly, perhaps worth a hefty price in the right hands. But he wouldn't know without examining it. He wasn't about to charge into battle, and he was a faithful servant of the gods; he could put it down after a moment, once his curiosity was sated.
Wrapping his fingers around the hilt, Emanuello lifted the surprisingly light sword into the air. Immediately he could tell it was well balanced, sturdy, and such a sight to behold-
"Wait." He suddenly frowned. He gripped it tightly, so much that his knuckles were going white.
Shaking his arm only twirled the sword in an artless pattern, with enough force that he felt the air reverberate. Staggering back, he swung around and accidentally sliced a pedestal in half; the top part slid to clatter on the floor, the cut going through the stone so impossibly smooth. More than that, the single slash saw the air itself vibrate as if even it tried to move away from the weapon in his hand.
His breath came faster and faster, struggling as if running. Emanuello couldn't breathe, he gasped, hyperventilating as his hand shook. Even as his legs gave out and he dropped to his knees, eyes locked on the sword.
It was glowing. Unmistakably, unquestionably, it was getting brighter by the second, and dare he say getting sharper. Before his eyes he felt his skin seemingly crackle, that arm alone feeling anything while everything else felt like it was dying. His body was getting weaker, his essence flowing into the blade, fueling that crimson glow…
"Lord Emanuello!" A sudden strike of gromil on steel caught him by surprise, wrenching the blade free from his dead man's grip. He collapsed in a pile, suddenly aware that his throat was sore beyond belief and his ears were ringing. That drop kept him from seeing what befell that sword when it left him.
Flipping him over, Thunderpeak grimaced at patting him over, the dwarf's hammer hovering over him with a chunk missing from the flat edge. When he was finished he dragged Emanuello so he sat up.
"You screamed like a banshee. What in the blazes happened here?" He demanded.
Emanuello took quick gulps of air, clutching the wrist that was closest to that sword. Skin prickled from numbness, slowly bringing forth a shaking that nearly upset him. He was exhausted, but how?
"How?" He repeated aloud, his eyes inevitably locating the sword. It was a couple body's lengths away, embedded halfway in a stone statue.
"It was the Grimnir damned sword. What, by Grungni´s beard possessed you to hold it? It was sucking your very life out!" The dawi thundered with a cuff to his head, his face one of fury though there was an undercurrent of concern in it. With a groan he hefted the noble over his shoulder, carrying him like a sack of potatoes.
"Let's get you fixed up." His voice was still harsh, but there was a certainty under it that grounded his shook up soul in a manner. "I'll be charging you for repairs to my hammer, just so you know."
Still, Emanuello couldn't help but wonder even in the state he was in. Who was it he had imprisoned that she could wield a weapon like this and not be impaired by it?
AN: New Chapter, hope you enjoy it.
When Erza awoke she couldn´t help but led out a groan. Why did her head feel like half a dozen natsu´s were pounding on it? She moved to grip her forehead, but instead she heard a rattle before her arm was blocked. Snapping her eyes open, she blinked at the dim light pouring through a small windowcell, into a room of cold stone brick. Her breath caught, shifting to feel a mass of metal that practically cocooned her; there had to be her body's weight in iron chains from her neck down.
The cold cell, where were her friends? Why couldn't she move? Why did everything hurt? Kyoka, that smiling demon rippling her claws, then pain, pain, pain!
Erza thrashed a second, quick breaths slowing by force of will. She forced herself to stop and think, not give into fear. She wasn't locked deep within Tartaros, this cell was infinitely better than that pit; straw covered the floor, there was warm sunlight coming through the window, and when she shifted herself she felt scratchy clothes under the chains. It felt like low quality wool, but there was something between her skin and the scratchy chains.
"Miss Scarlet, you're awake!" Exclaimed a familiar voice.
Erza looked up and smiled, then winced. "Father Grimaldi, why are you here?"
The priest looked mostly unharmed, his robes were somewhat dirty and scuffed. His wrists and ankles were bound by shackles which left him hobbling, though unlike her he wasn't affixed to the wall as well. He smiled back before concern flooded his expression.
"Are you alright? You were unconscious for a while." He fussed.
"I am alright, this isn't the worst place I've woken up in." Erza thought mainly of Hades Island, though she had some uncomfortable reminders of the Tower of Heaven as well. "What about you?"
He huffed in mock indignation. "Apart from some ignoble treatment of a man of faith, well enough. They did take my possessions as well as yours."
"That explains this." Erza halted a shiver. "How long have we been here?"
"A day now. They have provided food and water." His nose wrinkled at the thought. "Well if you can call it that." He spit at a nearby bowl containing what charitably might be called food. Uncharitably it was brown water and some bread that was more mold than grain.
"What happened?" Erza desperately tried to remember the last day. Why were she and her companion in prison? The last thing she remembered was accompanying that Noble into his house. She wanted to warn him about the beastmen….
"Oi! Quit yer yappin!" A deep yet somehow young voice shouted, followed by a loud clang against the cell bars. Raffaelo flinched, Erza merely turned her head.
Walking up to the bars was an odd figure, a man as short as Wendy or Master Makarov yet nearly as wide, clad in thick metal plate that left a neck length beard dangling. He looked to be rather young in spite of the beard and his general thickness. His runty eyes narrowed at the sight, hefting a short handed ax to again rap it against the bars.
"I was merely discussing my counterpart's condition, dwarf." Raffaelo replied testily.
"Doesn't matter, you're not suppose'd to talk." The dwarf shot back, gazing away with light fear at another couple dwarves marching up, along with a sour faced human guard.
"See? All good." An older dwarf gestured at Erza insistently.
"Yes, what fine work you've done. Worth every coin." He said dryly. "So much better than we lowly humans. There is no way that normal chains could´ve been enough, we had to use your oh so special, and naturally expensive, bindings instead."
"Bah, tis not our fault yer boss don't trust ya. Baratok!" He suddenly barked, the younger dwarf jolting and hurriedly adjusting his hold on his weapon.
"Ah, y-yes Captain Rumpslayer?" He stuttered.
"We're goin for a drink beardling, its on the house." The dwarf barked, and the guard groaned. "I don't wanchu talkin to those umgi without me present, got me beardling?"
"Yessir." Baratok nodded quickly.
"Good lad, don't disappoint me." The dwarves rumbled off with their companion in tow, who looked like he swallowed a lemon.
When they were gone Baratok sighed. "Left me again, not even with any extra ale." He despondently grabbed a small flask, which rattled hollowly. "Just my luck."
"Wait a moment, what did he mean by special chains?" Raffaelo gripped the bars with a rattle.
"Oh, uh, I shouldn't be speaking to you without my captain around." Baratok looked much less certain now that his apparent elder wasn't around.
"If it's so strong then there's no harm in telling me. See?" Erza flexed against the chains, getting only a rattle. After a second she amended that, there was a weird tingle whenever she used any strength against the metal, like it was blocking her.
"Well, uh… as long as you don't tell my sergeant." Baratok rolled his stubby shoulders. "Those are runic chains of binding, they were made in Karaz Kaferkammaz for the mercenary companies that set out from the Hold. They can hold down a giant."
"Really, that's amazing." Erza was impressed; magic chains weren't unknown to her, though as she looked closer she saw the craftsmanship was actually far better than she thought. Smooth, well wrought, they were almost fancy compared to Raffaelo's bindings.
"They are. My great uncle crafted those, he was proud of it. I, uh, tried to be his apprentice, but…" he shrugged pensively. "Dunno why Lord Emanuello wanted these on you, but we do what our contracts specify. I figured once your armor was off you wouldn't need more than basics like your friend here."
"My armor? What do you know of it?" Erza snapped up.
Baratok abruptly gulped. "Lord Emanuello was, uh, insistent that the Dawi mercenaries be the ones to, ah, imprison you. He didn't want his own men to lay a hand on you. As the youngest dawi of this company, I…"
"Well, that's some good news." Raffaelo muttered.
"I mean, you're pretty for an umgi-erm, human, but you're still just an umgi." Baratok waved his ax, accidentally clattering it off the bars.
"I see." Erza narrowed her eyes. "Where did you put my armor after you stripped me?"
"Uh, I'm not supposed to tell you. Rumpslayer took it anyway, I dunno where." He answered, gulping. "A-anyway, I'm not supposed to be talking to prisoners anyway." He said quickly, whipping around to show his back even faster. He was out of arms reach anyway, Erza couldn't have grabbed it even if she wanted to.
She probably could have, depending on how earnest the small man´s boasts of their chains were, but that would probably put her in even more trouble than she already was. She didn't want to behave like Natsu and cause more unnecessary damage.
"What can we expect to let out of here?" She asked. Surely the local authorities would be reasonable and not keep them in prison for too long? She couldn't remember what she did, but that probably meant it wasn't something too bad anyway.
The dawi just stared at her for a couple seconds, before shaking his head and laughing, saying something about Dumi worshipping Umgi being really as crazy as his master always told him. Whatever uncertainty that led to his talk spell had evaporated, partly because she heard stomping feet approaching.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Emanuello found himself feeling quite anxious. Not for the usual reasons of worrying over his rivals or if the damned skaven were trying to assassinate him again, but over his unusual prisoner, someone his aching chin wouldn't let him forget for even a minute.
"Are you sure those two witches are secured?" He stressed. To think that worshippers of chaos had come so close to him, to think that he had invited them -her- into his own private quarters, by Myrmidia! He really had to stop getting drawn to attractive women, they were always trouble.
Even if they were as breathtaking as Erza Scarlet.
Master Goric Thunderpeak, the head of the dwarf mercenary throng his father had hired to protect the caravan, and him as Emanuello had admitted with some difficulty, snorted simply. "The chains that hold them now had been worked on by the best runesmiths of Karak Kaferkammaz, they aren't the kind of umgi work you are used to." He didn´t say anything further, apparently that that was all that needed to be said on that topic.
"And what of magic? Surely even you must be worried about witch touch." Emanuello forced the issue.
"Runes of Warding are on those cells. You'd need something stronger than a plain witch to break a single rune, even a witch that trucks with fell powers." Master Thunderpeak was just as dismissive. "And before you prattle on any further, I'll remind you that even the beardlings of my throng have far more experience than your men. My youngest men are tougher and more steadfast than any guard you've hired."
Anyone else and Emanuello would be furious at this flagrant disrespect and would have laughed at those boasts. Not with the dawi. He had personally seen how his force of a mere two hundred had dispatched bandit bands many times the size of his own with ease during the time of his travels. Thunderpeak was barely more friendly now than when they first met, but never once had he failed to deliver on his terms; if he said something was done, it was.
His doubt in the old dwarf was as rude as his behavior towards him, but he had to be sure. Something he seemed to pick up on.
"You felled her by breaking a decent decoration piece on her head. How dangerous can one woman really be?" Thunderpeak raised a bushy brow.
Emanuello was moderately sure that her being "felled" had nothing to do with his striking prowess and more that she simply couldn't take a drink all that well, but he kept those suspicions to himself. He had already embarrassed himself enough in front of the mercenary captain, no need to further that.
"And about the threat of further attacks? We can't just assume they were handling it alone." He was certain he could take any cultist in a direct flight, and like any noble of Tilea, he was well prepared against poison or nightly assassins, but an attack by magic? It was not something he had much experience in fending off.
"You went through the trouble of getting my throng here, that's more than enough. Even without that you're rotating the guards and having your personal staff keep an eye on them. You wanna call in another wizard to be sure?" Thunderpeak turned up his nose at the idea, but it was a genuine question. "I've dealt with magic before, up north in the imperial lands, and down south in Araby. Don't leave things to chance and magic can't hurt you. You've done a lot to keep chance where it belongs."
Emanuello nodded testily, feeling disagreeable with that statement. "Very well. Nonetheless, keep an eye on them. That woman especially."
There was still some time before his scouts got back, doing their usual searches for skaven burrows or Orc nests. Enough time to go to his study, where he ordered Erza's belongings be placed; locking the door behind him, he approached the weapons and armor she wore in this very room yesterday.
Tracing his hands over the breastplate, he marveled at its touch. It felt like steel instead of something more exotic like gromil, but he knew quality when he saw it. Not to dawi standards yet still a league apart from his men. And not only that, there were telltale signs of repairs; creases from being bent back into shape, waves from reforging, additional lines of thoroughly careful repairs. He was so distracted by Erza's beauty that he didn't see she displayed her prowess in plain sight.
His eyes fell on the sword next. It was an exotic thing, a curved single edge weapon that resembles the bizarre swords from the Far East. The hilt was largely unadorned save for a small brass guard and a small cloth wrap, and the grip only had a small set of beads connected to a rope. One side of the blade was black while the other was steel. Overall it was well made, but lacking in ornaments.
And yet, Emanuello had trouble looking away from the sword. It had a presence to it that grabbed his eyes and didn't let go; rubbing his ear, he checked the room to find himself alone. So why did he feel like someone whispered in his ear?
"Maybe…" he mumbled to himself. There were tall tales from imperials and occasionally bretonnians, of extremely rare weapons used by dreaded northmen, weapons that had a foul presence bound to their existence, granting their wielders boons.
On the other hand, he had seen runic weapons before. Thunderpeak himself carried a rune-inscribed hammer at all times, giving the evil eye to even his own men to keep them from touching it. They were powerful tools that could be temperamental, but as long as the user was careful nothing could befall them.
The sword Erza carried, it didn't seem like it was tainted. Powerful certainly, perhaps worth a hefty price in the right hands. But he wouldn't know without examining it. He wasn't about to charge into battle, and he was a faithful servant of the gods; he could put it down after a moment, once his curiosity was sated.
Wrapping his fingers around the hilt, Emanuello lifted the surprisingly light sword into the air. Immediately he could tell it was well balanced, sturdy, and such a sight to behold-
"Wait." He suddenly frowned. He gripped it tightly, so much that his knuckles were going white.
Shaking his arm only twirled the sword in an artless pattern, with enough force that he felt the air reverberate. Staggering back, he swung around and accidentally sliced a pedestal in half; the top part slid to clatter on the floor, the cut going through the stone so impossibly smooth. More than that, the single slash saw the air itself vibrate as if even it tried to move away from the weapon in his hand.
His breath came faster and faster, struggling as if running. Emanuello couldn't breathe, he gasped, hyperventilating as his hand shook. Even as his legs gave out and he dropped to his knees, eyes locked on the sword.
It was glowing. Unmistakably, unquestionably, it was getting brighter by the second, and dare he say getting sharper. Before his eyes he felt his skin seemingly crackle, that arm alone feeling anything while everything else felt like it was dying. His body was getting weaker, his essence flowing into the blade, fueling that crimson glow…
"Lord Emanuello!" A sudden strike of gromil on steel caught him by surprise, wrenching the blade free from his dead man's grip. He collapsed in a pile, suddenly aware that his throat was sore beyond belief and his ears were ringing. That drop kept him from seeing what befell that sword when it left him.
Flipping him over, Thunderpeak grimaced at patting him over, the dwarf's hammer hovering over him with a chunk missing from the flat edge. When he was finished he dragged Emanuello so he sat up.
"You screamed like a banshee. What in the blazes happened here?" He demanded.
Emanuello took quick gulps of air, clutching the wrist that was closest to that sword. Skin prickled from numbness, slowly bringing forth a shaking that nearly upset him. He was exhausted, but how?
"How?" He repeated aloud, his eyes inevitably locating the sword. It was a couple body's lengths away, embedded halfway in a stone statue.
"It was the Grimnir damned sword. What, by Grungni´s beard possessed you to hold it? It was sucking your very life out!" The dawi thundered with a cuff to his head, his face one of fury though there was an undercurrent of concern in it. With a groan he hefted the noble over his shoulder, carrying him like a sack of potatoes.
"Let's get you fixed up." His voice was still harsh, but there was a certainty under it that grounded his shook up soul in a manner. "I'll be charging you for repairs to my hammer, just so you know."
Still, Emanuello couldn't help but wonder even in the state he was in. Who was it he had imprisoned that she could wield a weapon like this and not be impaired by it?
AN: New Chapter, hope you enjoy it.
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DragonUnitOmega
Akechi/Fem!Akira gives me life
- Location
- Inaba
- Pronouns
- She/Her/Etc
I think you left some of your notes/outlining in the chapter itself.
- Pronouns
- He
Fixed em
Oh, it´s just that Erza is just so bullshit she just doesn´t tend to notice stuff like that
Chapter 9
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 9
Arialdo leaned on his pike as he looked into the nighttime darkness, breathing on his fists to warm them up as he stared down the wooden palisade to see if anything was out there. There wasn't of course, but it was still his task. It was damned chilly compared to the last few days, unnaturally cold. Not that he was surprised about it at this point.
Things had been incredibly strange ever since the cursed green moon had appeared over the day. He had heard how the local butcher's flesh had suddenly began to weep blood. and how peasants had to put down their own maddened livestock. A nearby stream had turned green and everyone who drank of it, animal or man, had turned incredibly sick and a good number of them had died. Arialdo himself suspected the ratman to be behind it; it would fit the stories he heard.
Not only that, Charles had told him that some cultists and crazy witches tried to kill the merchant prince who had come to Corno to rest here. In fact, he was still telling him about her, the bastard reveling in the attention the other guards gave him, having been the only one present for the whole affair. He was so active he didn't need to shuffle for warmth like him, instead gesturing and giggling like a boy with a naughty secret.
"Say, is it true that she was strong like an ogre, had three heads and could breathe fire like a dragon?" Amon was the youngest among them, barely old enough to properly take his wine. "My Ma told me she and Prince Emanuello had duelled for hours before he defeated her. She told me that she heard that from a friend."
"Now I heard something else. My Uncle told me that she was beautiful like an elf and that she warped the minds of every male who looked at her." Now Rodrig mixed himself into the discussion. "I heard she was even more voluptuous than Clarette, is that true?"
And as always the youngster was thinking only with his pants. They all knew of his numerous attempts to woo Clarrette and the other wenches at the tavern. So far he hadn't been successful at even getting them to take him seriously.
Not that he could actually fault him much about leering at the witch, if the stories were true…
Charles for himself just nodded, a fat grin on his face as he beheld the small mob of guards around him.
"You know? I can't quite remember…. was she beautiful or a monster? Hmmm..." The bastard shrugged. "Maybe some wine would clean up my memory? It's hard to tell stories with such a dry throat, yannow?"
There was much grumbling around him but Charles remained silent, until Rodrig groaned and gave him his wineskin to take a strong sip from. He even took his sweet time at that, making sure to boil them in their curiosity no doubt, before finally answering.
"Bit of one, a lot more of the other." He smacked his lips, taking another sip of wine. "She looked human, but was monstrously strong. She carried a donkey and a man on her shoulders like they were nothing more than feathers. On the beauty part?"
His grin turned lecherous, as suspected.
"Yeah. She was something else. Didn't see much, since the Merchant prince insisted that the Dwarf's stripped her of her equipment, though from what bits I could make out? She got the biggest juggs you've ever seen." He made some rough motions half an arm's length away from his chest to underline what he meant. "Probably got them through witchcraft or some foul pact, to better ensnare her victims."
Everyone else agreed and nodded, though Arialdo saw hints of hunger in the eyes of a number of men.
It had probably been a wise decision of Prince Emanuello to not trust the men of Corno to secure the witch, if she was indeed that luscious and beautiful. He wasn't entirely sure if some of the good men around here could resist being enchanted by her body, especially considering how the wineskin made it's patrol through their ranks.
The dwarfs had luckily been far more disciplined than that, even if some of the guards around here murmured about them. They did nothing but criticize the guards, chortling about how they'd break the moment a proper fight started. Their comments had seen more than a single fist fight break out in the taverns of Corno, and so far the human participants had lost them all, much to their shame. One of the men in sight bore a mark from such a brawl, a sizable bruise on his cheek while he was enamored by Charles.
Listening to the stories they told of said "epic" struggles, it always was because the dwarfs had an overwhelming superiority of numbers on their side and it was always a close affair.
Adriago had his doubts about that. For one, from what he had seen, there were not that many dwarfs here anyway, maybe hundred and they mostly kept to themselves. And Clarette had told him the exact opposite of the events when he had asked her, often with a giggle.
She had found the whole situation pretty funny apparently.
"Shouldn't we be more careful?" Rodrig was clearly uncomfortable stirring the discussion away from Charles' tales about the redhead's prodigious rump and bust, but he seemed more than a little concerned. "The prince told us to be careful of other witches and cultists following up after the two that came today." he gulped, clearly worried about the possibility.
In response one of the other guards just clapped him on his back and laughed.
"Please, witches messing around would be one thing, but actual cults to some dark powers? Prince Emanuello is simply jumping over his own shadow!" And back to the stories it was.
Adriago for himself wasn't so sure about that. Still, the dwarfs were on the lookout for any threats to Corno, and -as he suspected- in their opinion much more importantly their client. They had sworn some oath to protect him and the small folk were awfully serious about that business. He glanced back to the darkness and rubbed his chilly palm.
If anything where to come attack them, surely their sentries would warn them first.
XXXXXXXX
Emanuello had much experience in swallowing down some rough drinks. As part of his education as a potential heir of Tobaro, not to mention during his business ventures. That was if something were to happen to Tibaldus, not an impossibility given how often some rival or maybe even the skaven tried to contest the influence of the De Vela Banking house in Tobaro.
As such he'd been accustomed to drinking various poisons ever since his twelfth year of life, always in tiny enough potions to not be lethal as to slowly harden his body against them. It was still enough to turn days and weeks of time into a nightmare.
The worst of those poisons didn't burn a tenth of the brew Goric had just given him. He had to physically hold his mouth shut with his own hand to avoid barfing it out as it slowly, - by Myrmidia, why didn't the pain stop- go down his throat.
"What by Myrmidia's massive tits was this stuff?!" He just barely managed to bring out, looking at the mug the dwarf had given him as if it would try to bite him any moment. His old priest back in Tabaro would have spanked him raw for cursing in Myrmidia's name like that, but he didn't care at the moment. That had been like downing magma!
"Another couple hundred gold coins of your treasury, mannling." The old dwarf picked the mug up and carefully checked it for any damage, before stowing it away. "Do you feel any change yet?"
"I, what?" Emanuello stretched his arm, before pushing himself slowly up from the bed he had been dumped in the by Longbeard. Just a couple moments ago he was barely capable of raising his arm to his mouth!
With a groan he sat up. "What happened?"
The last hours (?) had been something of a blur, something like being just steps away from falling unconscious. That… thing, it almost killed him. Yet even now he felt some lingering rapturment from thinking about that cursed sword. It drew him in, like a cat baiting its tail for a tasty rat.
"You wazzock thought it was a smart idea to pick up a dumiblade and swing it around. Damn thing sucked almost your life out of you." The Dawi nodded towards the mug. "What you just drank was beer, specially brewed and blessed yearly by the Valayan priesthood of Karak Kammerfaz. It returned you your strength of what would otherwise have taken an umgi like you probably weeks to discover."
Emanuello opened his mouth to speak up, but promptly shut it, once Goric leveled his glare at him.
"What were you thinking? Honestly, even for an umgi of these lands, what you've done was boneheaded idiocy. You heard enough tales about fell weapons to know better, but instead you went and played with it like a beardling toying with his master's prized tools. If you died, who would've paid for repairs for my hammer?" Goric cuffed him, albeit without that much force. By dwarf standards, he still gasped from the blow. "And that's not touching the issue of that witch you invited into your room. Don't mine among loose rocks is the dawi way for a reason."
He shook his head, his impressive beard shaking along with it. "For the trade treaties your brother made with my clan I swore an oath to him that I would protect you. If you insist on acting further as you did so far, then I will have my Iron Breakers constrain you, lock you into a barrel, only letting you out for food until we have arrived at Migrolino. I will not let you turn me into an oathbreaker, Mannling. Is that clear?"
Emanuello nodded, allowing himself to fall back into the bed. "How much for repairs-"
"A lot. Gromil isn't cheap, and neither is runesmith work." Goric was as stern as always, studying him with an intent gaze. "Next time, be more careful with strange womenfolk and dumiblades, you understand? I may not be in rescue distance if you decide to let another sword eat you."
"I'll keep that in mind." Mustering his strength, Emanuello rose up with a groan, and with what felt like a monumental effort swung his legs over the edge.
Goric stepped back, staying in arms reach the whole time. "Fetching the coin already?"
"Not just yet. I have some questions that need answering first. For starters: How come this sword did not hurt your dwarfs? I saw your subordinates carry it around?" He eyed the dwarf. That had been the reason he wanted to look at it, not only did the dwarfs touch it freely, but one of his men held it while Goric's men secured the witch. No doubt he went and spread rumors about her already, he would be surprised if every tavern was chatting about Erza.
"Bah, magic and Dawi don't mix. Never have, never will. That wild stuff doesn't affect us. If we need magic power, we bind it properly through runes." He patted his damaged hammer, flashing a grimace at the deep cut in the solid metal. "It's safer than tossing around fireballs like a damned elgi. That dumi blade could probably not affect us because of that"
"And my man? He was fine holding it while your men bound her." Emanuello pointed out.
Goric shrugged. "No idea. Can´t expect dumi blades, magic ones on top of that, to function like a sensible straightforward az. Maybe it didn't affect him because he just held it? And you swung it around." He looked around. "We can probably find out more from the witch, if you want to interrogate her before you do away with her."
Emanuello swung his feet over the edge to test his weight; rising up left him woozy, needing to grab the frame to steady himself. A moment of strained breathing passed before he let go, his balance in awful shape but overall functional.
"Yes, interrogate her. I need some answers from Lady Scarlet concerning her belongings." He meandered towards the door.
Acquiring more men on the way, Emanuello left his opulent home with Goric in tow. The jail guards straightened up when they spotted him, allowing his party in without a word of protest; numbering a dozen men, six dwarfs including Goric, and himself, they made for an intimidating presence into the dirty jail.
Heading directly to the most secure cell in the building, Emanuello passed the couple dwarf guards to halt before the bars. He adjusted his jacket, beholding the false priest and the witch turning towards him, the former rattling some chains, the other unable to move without making a racket.
"Lady Scarlet." He greeted dryly, laying on the sarcasm. "It's time we had a talk."
Erza groaned, shifting up to shuffle her cocoon of chains; the most secure bindings the dwarfs had at his insistence. She swiveled to him, and even in her lackluster state she was stunning.
"Prince Emanuello, have you come to release me?" She sounded far too calm for someone with as many chains as she had. He demanded enough to hold down an ogre, and they obliged.
"Not exactly." He went on guard, prepared for any wiles.
"If you already made up your mind, then why did you come?" Raffaelo the false priest, or was he corrupted? He assumed the former, creating a creature like her couldn't be done overnight.
"For answers of course, from your 'daughter' as well as yourself. Of all the talents you possess, lying convincingly isn't one of them." Emanuello began.
Both looked at him in confusion, Erza raising a brow. "This man isn't my father."
"Erza isn't my child, I just met her a couple days ago." Raffaelo sent her a puzzled look, laced by annoyance.
"Then why did you call him that?" Emanuello was feeling annoyed as well.
She cocked her head. "He is a man of faith. What else would I call him?"
"A priest." Emanuello answered, muffling a groan. Goric sent him a glance that he ignored. "Alright, now tell me why you came here."
"We came to warn you about a beastmen attack. I… got sidetracked." She turned away with a blush. Raffaelo added a stronger annoyed look.
"Do you really expect us to believe that?" Emanuello laughed. "That some army of beastmen strong enough to take entire towns would materialize out of nowhere and just attack us?" He sighed, hoping that he could have avoided this. Witch she may be, Emanuello wasn´t one who liked to see people tortured, even if they had almost killed him twice so far. Hopefully the threat of it would be enough.
With a wave of his hand he ordered one of his men forward. "If you insist on continually keeping up that charade, I'm afraid that I will have to resort to ha-"
A boom echoed in the distance; a second later the stone walls shook like a quake, dust falling from the ceiling. Emanuello spaced his legs immediately, sending a fearful look upwards at a crack that tore apart a sizable chunk of the wall, groaning unsteadily but after a second failing to collapse on their heads. Something very big slammed against one wall, threatening to break it down from the impact.
"What was that?!" One of his men quivered in terror. Dust floated through the windows, bringing with it the sounds of crashing rock and distant screams.
"Like a bloody cannon blew up." Goric snapped, suddenly turning to the direction it came from. "Wait, that sounded like… where the walls are!"
"What? How?!" Emanuello was about to dart out to see what happened for himself, but he had to stop because of that accursed witch. Raffaelo was as shocked as his men, but Erza didn't; she turned her head to the direction of the blast (how powerful must it be to hear all the way in the jail) without fear. Just narrowing her eyes, the chains clinking from her straining against them.
Shaking his head, Emanuello joined his guards in rushing out of the jail. They had to bypass the main entrance due to it collapsing, instead rushing through a collapsed wall into a scene of chaos; he gawked at the collapsed buildings, flattened like a gigantic bomb went off. Which may very well have happened, once he saw Corno's wall. Or what was the wall, a sizable chunk of it was a pile of rubble that gave a wide opening for attackers.
He froze, hearing a twisted roar that sounded almost like a donkey's bray. Then a lot of them, a calvacade of bestial roars that drowned out the shouts of town guards and screams of injured citizens. In the gloom he saw a vast number of shapes clamoring over the rubble into Corno. A whiff reached his nose by the time he identified the creatures, balking at the stench.
"Beastmen. She was right." Emanuello whispered, gulping. "Myrmidia help us, she was right."
Arialdo leaned on his pike as he looked into the nighttime darkness, breathing on his fists to warm them up as he stared down the wooden palisade to see if anything was out there. There wasn't of course, but it was still his task. It was damned chilly compared to the last few days, unnaturally cold. Not that he was surprised about it at this point.
Things had been incredibly strange ever since the cursed green moon had appeared over the day. He had heard how the local butcher's flesh had suddenly began to weep blood. and how peasants had to put down their own maddened livestock. A nearby stream had turned green and everyone who drank of it, animal or man, had turned incredibly sick and a good number of them had died. Arialdo himself suspected the ratman to be behind it; it would fit the stories he heard.
Not only that, Charles had told him that some cultists and crazy witches tried to kill the merchant prince who had come to Corno to rest here. In fact, he was still telling him about her, the bastard reveling in the attention the other guards gave him, having been the only one present for the whole affair. He was so active he didn't need to shuffle for warmth like him, instead gesturing and giggling like a boy with a naughty secret.
"Say, is it true that she was strong like an ogre, had three heads and could breathe fire like a dragon?" Amon was the youngest among them, barely old enough to properly take his wine. "My Ma told me she and Prince Emanuello had duelled for hours before he defeated her. She told me that she heard that from a friend."
"Now I heard something else. My Uncle told me that she was beautiful like an elf and that she warped the minds of every male who looked at her." Now Rodrig mixed himself into the discussion. "I heard she was even more voluptuous than Clarette, is that true?"
And as always the youngster was thinking only with his pants. They all knew of his numerous attempts to woo Clarrette and the other wenches at the tavern. So far he hadn't been successful at even getting them to take him seriously.
Not that he could actually fault him much about leering at the witch, if the stories were true…
Charles for himself just nodded, a fat grin on his face as he beheld the small mob of guards around him.
"You know? I can't quite remember…. was she beautiful or a monster? Hmmm..." The bastard shrugged. "Maybe some wine would clean up my memory? It's hard to tell stories with such a dry throat, yannow?"
There was much grumbling around him but Charles remained silent, until Rodrig groaned and gave him his wineskin to take a strong sip from. He even took his sweet time at that, making sure to boil them in their curiosity no doubt, before finally answering.
"Bit of one, a lot more of the other." He smacked his lips, taking another sip of wine. "She looked human, but was monstrously strong. She carried a donkey and a man on her shoulders like they were nothing more than feathers. On the beauty part?"
His grin turned lecherous, as suspected.
"Yeah. She was something else. Didn't see much, since the Merchant prince insisted that the Dwarf's stripped her of her equipment, though from what bits I could make out? She got the biggest juggs you've ever seen." He made some rough motions half an arm's length away from his chest to underline what he meant. "Probably got them through witchcraft or some foul pact, to better ensnare her victims."
Everyone else agreed and nodded, though Arialdo saw hints of hunger in the eyes of a number of men.
It had probably been a wise decision of Prince Emanuello to not trust the men of Corno to secure the witch, if she was indeed that luscious and beautiful. He wasn't entirely sure if some of the good men around here could resist being enchanted by her body, especially considering how the wineskin made it's patrol through their ranks.
The dwarfs had luckily been far more disciplined than that, even if some of the guards around here murmured about them. They did nothing but criticize the guards, chortling about how they'd break the moment a proper fight started. Their comments had seen more than a single fist fight break out in the taverns of Corno, and so far the human participants had lost them all, much to their shame. One of the men in sight bore a mark from such a brawl, a sizable bruise on his cheek while he was enamored by Charles.
Listening to the stories they told of said "epic" struggles, it always was because the dwarfs had an overwhelming superiority of numbers on their side and it was always a close affair.
Adriago had his doubts about that. For one, from what he had seen, there were not that many dwarfs here anyway, maybe hundred and they mostly kept to themselves. And Clarette had told him the exact opposite of the events when he had asked her, often with a giggle.
She had found the whole situation pretty funny apparently.
"Shouldn't we be more careful?" Rodrig was clearly uncomfortable stirring the discussion away from Charles' tales about the redhead's prodigious rump and bust, but he seemed more than a little concerned. "The prince told us to be careful of other witches and cultists following up after the two that came today." he gulped, clearly worried about the possibility.
In response one of the other guards just clapped him on his back and laughed.
"Please, witches messing around would be one thing, but actual cults to some dark powers? Prince Emanuello is simply jumping over his own shadow!" And back to the stories it was.
Adriago for himself wasn't so sure about that. Still, the dwarfs were on the lookout for any threats to Corno, and -as he suspected- in their opinion much more importantly their client. They had sworn some oath to protect him and the small folk were awfully serious about that business. He glanced back to the darkness and rubbed his chilly palm.
If anything where to come attack them, surely their sentries would warn them first.
XXXXXXXX
Emanuello had much experience in swallowing down some rough drinks. As part of his education as a potential heir of Tobaro, not to mention during his business ventures. That was if something were to happen to Tibaldus, not an impossibility given how often some rival or maybe even the skaven tried to contest the influence of the De Vela Banking house in Tobaro.
As such he'd been accustomed to drinking various poisons ever since his twelfth year of life, always in tiny enough potions to not be lethal as to slowly harden his body against them. It was still enough to turn days and weeks of time into a nightmare.
The worst of those poisons didn't burn a tenth of the brew Goric had just given him. He had to physically hold his mouth shut with his own hand to avoid barfing it out as it slowly, - by Myrmidia, why didn't the pain stop- go down his throat.
"What by Myrmidia's massive tits was this stuff?!" He just barely managed to bring out, looking at the mug the dwarf had given him as if it would try to bite him any moment. His old priest back in Tabaro would have spanked him raw for cursing in Myrmidia's name like that, but he didn't care at the moment. That had been like downing magma!
"Another couple hundred gold coins of your treasury, mannling." The old dwarf picked the mug up and carefully checked it for any damage, before stowing it away. "Do you feel any change yet?"
"I, what?" Emanuello stretched his arm, before pushing himself slowly up from the bed he had been dumped in the by Longbeard. Just a couple moments ago he was barely capable of raising his arm to his mouth!
With a groan he sat up. "What happened?"
The last hours (?) had been something of a blur, something like being just steps away from falling unconscious. That… thing, it almost killed him. Yet even now he felt some lingering rapturment from thinking about that cursed sword. It drew him in, like a cat baiting its tail for a tasty rat.
"You wazzock thought it was a smart idea to pick up a dumiblade and swing it around. Damn thing sucked almost your life out of you." The Dawi nodded towards the mug. "What you just drank was beer, specially brewed and blessed yearly by the Valayan priesthood of Karak Kammerfaz. It returned you your strength of what would otherwise have taken an umgi like you probably weeks to discover."
Emanuello opened his mouth to speak up, but promptly shut it, once Goric leveled his glare at him.
"What were you thinking? Honestly, even for an umgi of these lands, what you've done was boneheaded idiocy. You heard enough tales about fell weapons to know better, but instead you went and played with it like a beardling toying with his master's prized tools. If you died, who would've paid for repairs for my hammer?" Goric cuffed him, albeit without that much force. By dwarf standards, he still gasped from the blow. "And that's not touching the issue of that witch you invited into your room. Don't mine among loose rocks is the dawi way for a reason."
He shook his head, his impressive beard shaking along with it. "For the trade treaties your brother made with my clan I swore an oath to him that I would protect you. If you insist on acting further as you did so far, then I will have my Iron Breakers constrain you, lock you into a barrel, only letting you out for food until we have arrived at Migrolino. I will not let you turn me into an oathbreaker, Mannling. Is that clear?"
Emanuello nodded, allowing himself to fall back into the bed. "How much for repairs-"
"A lot. Gromil isn't cheap, and neither is runesmith work." Goric was as stern as always, studying him with an intent gaze. "Next time, be more careful with strange womenfolk and dumiblades, you understand? I may not be in rescue distance if you decide to let another sword eat you."
"I'll keep that in mind." Mustering his strength, Emanuello rose up with a groan, and with what felt like a monumental effort swung his legs over the edge.
Goric stepped back, staying in arms reach the whole time. "Fetching the coin already?"
"Not just yet. I have some questions that need answering first. For starters: How come this sword did not hurt your dwarfs? I saw your subordinates carry it around?" He eyed the dwarf. That had been the reason he wanted to look at it, not only did the dwarfs touch it freely, but one of his men held it while Goric's men secured the witch. No doubt he went and spread rumors about her already, he would be surprised if every tavern was chatting about Erza.
"Bah, magic and Dawi don't mix. Never have, never will. That wild stuff doesn't affect us. If we need magic power, we bind it properly through runes." He patted his damaged hammer, flashing a grimace at the deep cut in the solid metal. "It's safer than tossing around fireballs like a damned elgi. That dumi blade could probably not affect us because of that"
"And my man? He was fine holding it while your men bound her." Emanuello pointed out.
Goric shrugged. "No idea. Can´t expect dumi blades, magic ones on top of that, to function like a sensible straightforward az. Maybe it didn't affect him because he just held it? And you swung it around." He looked around. "We can probably find out more from the witch, if you want to interrogate her before you do away with her."
Emanuello swung his feet over the edge to test his weight; rising up left him woozy, needing to grab the frame to steady himself. A moment of strained breathing passed before he let go, his balance in awful shape but overall functional.
"Yes, interrogate her. I need some answers from Lady Scarlet concerning her belongings." He meandered towards the door.
Acquiring more men on the way, Emanuello left his opulent home with Goric in tow. The jail guards straightened up when they spotted him, allowing his party in without a word of protest; numbering a dozen men, six dwarfs including Goric, and himself, they made for an intimidating presence into the dirty jail.
Heading directly to the most secure cell in the building, Emanuello passed the couple dwarf guards to halt before the bars. He adjusted his jacket, beholding the false priest and the witch turning towards him, the former rattling some chains, the other unable to move without making a racket.
"Lady Scarlet." He greeted dryly, laying on the sarcasm. "It's time we had a talk."
Erza groaned, shifting up to shuffle her cocoon of chains; the most secure bindings the dwarfs had at his insistence. She swiveled to him, and even in her lackluster state she was stunning.
"Prince Emanuello, have you come to release me?" She sounded far too calm for someone with as many chains as she had. He demanded enough to hold down an ogre, and they obliged.
"Not exactly." He went on guard, prepared for any wiles.
"If you already made up your mind, then why did you come?" Raffaelo the false priest, or was he corrupted? He assumed the former, creating a creature like her couldn't be done overnight.
"For answers of course, from your 'daughter' as well as yourself. Of all the talents you possess, lying convincingly isn't one of them." Emanuello began.
Both looked at him in confusion, Erza raising a brow. "This man isn't my father."
"Erza isn't my child, I just met her a couple days ago." Raffaelo sent her a puzzled look, laced by annoyance.
"Then why did you call him that?" Emanuello was feeling annoyed as well.
She cocked her head. "He is a man of faith. What else would I call him?"
"A priest." Emanuello answered, muffling a groan. Goric sent him a glance that he ignored. "Alright, now tell me why you came here."
"We came to warn you about a beastmen attack. I… got sidetracked." She turned away with a blush. Raffaelo added a stronger annoyed look.
"Do you really expect us to believe that?" Emanuello laughed. "That some army of beastmen strong enough to take entire towns would materialize out of nowhere and just attack us?" He sighed, hoping that he could have avoided this. Witch she may be, Emanuello wasn´t one who liked to see people tortured, even if they had almost killed him twice so far. Hopefully the threat of it would be enough.
With a wave of his hand he ordered one of his men forward. "If you insist on continually keeping up that charade, I'm afraid that I will have to resort to ha-"
A boom echoed in the distance; a second later the stone walls shook like a quake, dust falling from the ceiling. Emanuello spaced his legs immediately, sending a fearful look upwards at a crack that tore apart a sizable chunk of the wall, groaning unsteadily but after a second failing to collapse on their heads. Something very big slammed against one wall, threatening to break it down from the impact.
"What was that?!" One of his men quivered in terror. Dust floated through the windows, bringing with it the sounds of crashing rock and distant screams.
"Like a bloody cannon blew up." Goric snapped, suddenly turning to the direction it came from. "Wait, that sounded like… where the walls are!"
"What? How?!" Emanuello was about to dart out to see what happened for himself, but he had to stop because of that accursed witch. Raffaelo was as shocked as his men, but Erza didn't; she turned her head to the direction of the blast (how powerful must it be to hear all the way in the jail) without fear. Just narrowing her eyes, the chains clinking from her straining against them.
Shaking his head, Emanuello joined his guards in rushing out of the jail. They had to bypass the main entrance due to it collapsing, instead rushing through a collapsed wall into a scene of chaos; he gawked at the collapsed buildings, flattened like a gigantic bomb went off. Which may very well have happened, once he saw Corno's wall. Or what was the wall, a sizable chunk of it was a pile of rubble that gave a wide opening for attackers.
He froze, hearing a twisted roar that sounded almost like a donkey's bray. Then a lot of them, a calvacade of bestial roars that drowned out the shouts of town guards and screams of injured citizens. In the gloom he saw a vast number of shapes clamoring over the rubble into Corno. A whiff reached his nose by the time he identified the creatures, balking at the stench.
"Beastmen. She was right." Emanuello whispered, gulping. "Myrmidia help us, she was right."
- Location
- United States
Its warhammer, with the threats that exist there, Fairy Tail mage grade collateral damage is acceptable.
Chapter 10
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 10
Arialdo spit out a ball glob of blood and phlegm, coughing as he tried to ignore the agony coursing through his body to look at his surroundings. Just a couple minutes ago he had been joking and talking around with his pals, the discussion in question having settled on the "assets" of a captured witch. The next moment one of them, Rodrig, had spotted a single figure coming closer to Corno, barreling straight out of the woods. It had pointed a staff at them and then said something.
Each of them had heard it clearly, despite the distance between them. His ears had bleed in refusal to understand those horrible, horrible words. And all around him his comrades, friends he knew for almost his entire life, people he had joked and fought with, had drunk and celebrated with, they began to change.
Charles had horns sprout from his head, all the while he had been scratching his own eyes out, his screams turning into maddened bleating. Amon's had begun to grow additional hands as his entire body began to twist and bleed out of every pore. And the rest… oh mercy full Myrmidia!
Arialdo couldn't keep the bile back in his throat and vomited, not caring how his damaged throat screamed in protest. It had only been sheer luck that had allowed him to escape this terrible fate. In the midst of it he had been pushed down the wall by Rodrig's lungs, which had begun to push themselves out of his back like a horrid sort of wings.
There, there had been dwarfs up with them, with him. They hadn't talked much with them before, but they had been unaffected by whatever terrible curse that had befallen them. As he fell he could see how the small mercenaries had thrown themselves between them, bellowing war cries into their forceful tongue, their great axes cutting through his former friends and comrades like wheat. Then he hit the ground and everything went black.
He couldn't have been unconscious for too long, the sounds of fighting were still going strong above him, together with the unmistakable noise of dwarfen guns being fired at something in the distance. Considering the almost ear shattering roars that were heard in response to the gun fire, that something didn't seem to appreciate it.
Grunting in pain, the guardsman slowly pushed himself, taking a nearby stick as aid.
What was going on? Was it that cult that had tried to murder the prince? Were it the beastmen the witch had warned them from? But no. That couldn´t be. Beastmen, they couldn't, they couldn't do this. All they were capable of was ambushing some isolated travellers and trades! In none of the encounters the men of Corno had with them nor in any of the stories he had heard about hinted that they could do this!
He managed to slurf a paltry dozen feet from the wall before the world screamed once more, the sky and the night itself turning into a perverse green. A monstrous noise, the kind of which he had never heard before, hit him just moments before something akin to the hand of a giant picked him up and tossed him into the air, throwing him far into the town itself.
When he came up on the ground, it was accompanied by a sickening crunch, but strangely little pain. Arialdo had landed not too far away from the main market around which all of Corno was centered. He could even see the prince from here, him together with a thick pack of guards and the heavily armored dwarfs.
The Prince could even see him? But why was he making such a fa-?
XXXXXXX
Emanuello felt a sickness crawl up in him as he shot the abomination before him in the head. It wore what was roughly still recognizable as the green and brown of Corno's soldiery, or at least what little pieces of it remained on its body. It´s face had morphed into a perversion of the human grimace, spouting half a dozen barely formed mouths with arrays of teeth that ranged from just formed baby teeth to wolf-like fangs. And that was nothing to say of the rest of its body.
But even it couldn't compare to the horror that had spread itself out from what once had been Corno's walls.
Hundreds upon hundreds of ungors, armed with spears, clubs and axes, stormed over the rubble, butchering what little centers of guards and otherwise resistance stood in their way. Behind them, on piles of rubble and half collapsed buildings, came gors, shooting their crude and small bows at the fleeing and screaming citizenry, in which packs of minotaurs threw themselves into, swinging great black axes in a blender of carnage and death. Worst of all, behind them stood two immense creatures, spouting four arms each that were showing maws where there should be none.
One of them picked up a screaming man from a still standing piece of wall before lifting him above his mouth, squeezing the blood and organs out of him like one might squeeze out a grape, before throwing the mangled corpse into its mouth.
The second didn't seem to mind cannibalizing its allies either, falling on its knees to shovel screaming and protesting gors into its mouth before grabbing a half molten piece of wall to throw randomly into the city, surely bringing death and ruin to all in its path.
For just a moment Emanuello froze, his mind refusing to accept the sight before him. For just a moment this all seemed like the fabrication of a bad dream, a nightmare. Then the realisation of cold reality and the training of Tobaro's military academy his father had forced him to attend in his wisdom set in. and the Merchant Prince sprung into action.
"TO ME! ALL ARMED MEN AND WOMEN TO ME!" His voice, surprisingly free of stammers and trembles, hit the guards around him who were similarly in shock as he had been. With a curse he drew his sword and discarded the empty pistol with which he had gunned down what once might have been one of his men. "We need to seal off the breach in the wall or we all are lost!" He smacked a still frozen guard lieutenant over his head with the flat side of his blade, beating him out of his stupor. "MOVE, DAMN YOU!"
He looked for Goric and the other dwarfs, but they had already begun to move before he had even started to speak. Bellowing out something in Khazalid, Thunderpeak had called the nearby longbeards into a charge, smashing into the beastmen that had been butchering people nearest to them, Goric's mangled hammer bringing down a minotaur in a single blow, the runes on the hammer blazing like a comet striking the earth.
However many he slew, more beastmen came. Smaller creatures, brays he vaguely remembered they were called, only these things were ungainly mutants that could have been anything beforehand, loped over the rubble around their 'allies.' Many were cut down by the dwarfs, some were slain by the ungors, but they charged into battle like madmen. Many were going towards his party.
"FORM UP!" Emanuello shouted, his personal guards jolting as their training went into effect. Pikes went up, the men scrambling to form a rough square in the center of Corno. A basic if undersized pike wall, something that did well on the plains between mercenaries armies, now would serve to make those monsters pay for every inch of ground.
A pack of misshapen creatures reached them, only to impale themselves on the pikes; deep wounds tore into their grotesque flesh, inflicting lethal injuries that somehow didn't stop them. The screeching things kept reaching for his men, one with hateful eyes pounding on the haft in a vain attempt to get Emanuello in particular. Even after he lopped its head off that expression of raw hatred stayed.
"Hold fast!" Emanuello shouted, adding a small amount of confidence that rallied the men. A handful of surviving town guards ceased running to join his party, injured or not they helped fend off beastmen. Men and women fled around them, chased by monsters until the creatures saw the obvious challenge, heading for the dubious shelter of the church. One man fell from an arrow to the throat, another was taken down by a rat shaped thing before the others could slay it.
Meanwhile the dwarfs were doing better than his group, though that wasn't saying much. The hardy little men hacked and crushed anything that dared to attack them, meeting no end of monsters willing to test their mettle. Goric smashed a gor in time for one of his dwarfs to fall to a vicious rat that could have been a skaven, if not for the rows of horns and extra arm it sported. It paid with its life, but every dwarf that fell was one more crack in a very necessary defensive block.
Emanuello hacked up an ungor, then a bray, then helped brace his men when a gor slammed into the pikes. The polearm creaked dangerously, then with a whip crack of shattered wood the pike snapped, allowing the roaring gor to get ever closer. A yell had Emanuello plunge his sword into its throat, cutting off that ear splitting noise but nearly wrenching the weapon from his grasp. Thick bands of muscles protected it from his strike, its own mindless rage allowing it to ignore its lifeblood gushing out; his eyes went wide at it grabbing his arm, fortunately slacking a second later as it perished.
From the corner of his eyes he could see a group of minotaurs, together with maybe a dozen gors and ungors excited a partially destroyed building to their flanks, the remains of the inhabitants of said building smeared over their blades, before charging to fall into the unprotected rear of their very shaky lines. A lone man attempted to kill one with a rusty sword, and only added to their count.
For a moment it looked like catastrophe would engulf their desperate defence, before a tirade of "Khazukan Kazakit-HA!" was heard, followed by a phalanx of half a hundred dwarfs storming out of the market, wildly swinging their axes and hammers, crashing in the rear of the beastmen who had tried to assault them from behind.
Simultaneously heavily armored small forms appeared on various rooftops around the destroyed wall, furiously firing down bullets and crossbow bolts on the invaders, both reaping a bloody toll on anything they hit.
Emanuello felt relief flare up in him. The dawi mercenaries had arrived in full! And they hadn't come alone as, though clearly out of order and many lacking crucial equipment such as helmets or armor, came the guards and soldiers who had been manning the other parts of the city or had simply been with their families at the time the attack happened, now coming to reinforce their lines at this crucial moment.
For a moment, the tide turned. The beastmen's frenzy washed against Corno's defenders, like an ocean of madness and hate, but they held. Their pikes impaled and gutted those that rushed against their defences, the axes and hammers of the dwarfs smashed those that came to close, the dawi thunderers and Corno's crossbowmen thinned out the gors that dared to try and shot them with their crude bows.
The creatures died in droves. Bodies piled high where they fell, some beastmen falling to tear into their slain comrades before they too died, choking on meat and their own blood. Brays were thinning out, ungors came in fewer numbers, gors dropped in spite of some attempting to flee for their miserable lives. Emanuello held out hope they could persevere.
But a second later those hopes were dashed; a terrible roar announced the arrival of a pack of gigantic beasts, twice the height of an ogre and somehow even more grotesque than the monsters that had assailed them thus far. These giant creatures were similar to the other deforned monsters, three armed and sporting various mutations, eyes where they didn't belong, an extra mouth or two, and tree trunks for clubs. There were only four or five of them, but each one could single-handedly pose a threat to the entire town.
Emanuello still had the dwarfs, who didn't shake in place like the human defenders. Every dwarf with a ranged weapon smoothly switched their aim, some already taking shots at their eyes. Whatever could slow the rampaging monsters.
A bolt of green light sprung from the darkness, striking another group of guards a few dozen paces away. Before his eyes he saw something out of a nightmare: the men screamed, dropping weapons to clutch themselves, writhing as their flesh rippled. Clothes were shredded by freshly sprouted claws or by their bubbling skin, forming fur or great bulging muscles. He had to take a step back into one of his equally horrified men at the sight of them, hearing their cries turn deeper, more bestial; faces elongated into snouts, pain changing into brainless rage, the former guards turning towards his men with the same agression as the rest of the beastmen.
"What in Myrmidia's name is that!?" One of his men screamed.
Emanuello drew upon strength he didn't have to shout, "Hold fast!" It was a wonder he didn't squeak the order.
Arrows and bullets tore into the former guards, putting them out of their misery. The Dawi had reacted to the unspeakable attack as they had everything else, cutting them down in a flurry of shots. Even as the former men died the rest of the beastmen horde seemed invigorated, their diminishing numbers now being compensated by a renewed fury.
As the gorgons bore down on Emanuello a tall figure emerged from the darkness, what had to be a shaman. It was almost normal compared to the rest of the creatures, wielding a staff as green light grew in its hand.
"Tremble in fear meat! Ghurleth is your reckoning!" It shouted in a loud deep voice that had just a slight twist to it, an unnaturalness that birthed in him the desire to crawl into a ball and hide in the deepest, darkest corner, away from that thing.
And the merchant prince wasn't the only one. All around him, Men, who until just now had been fighting savagely to protect their families and homes, began to shake, the formation began to lose cohesion and Emanuello knew that if something wasn't done right now to keep their morale up, all would be lost.
"Men of Corno, hold fast! Do not falter to the terrors of the night!" How Emanuello's voice didn't crack he didn't know. "We are all that stands between these hellspawn and your families! Your home! If you give into the fear, all you hold dear will be lost! Your children will become nothing but food and sacrificial lambs for these monsters, our women will become nothing more than broodmares!" He saw how his words began to reach some of the men, who were until a moment ago looking ready to bolt. That primal fear that had filled them began to be replaced with a shaky courage born out of sheer desperation.
That little flame of courage is something he had to seize upon, if Corno was to be saved!
"Look at them!" He pointed his blade towards the men who were screaming and being twisted before their very eyes. "The enemy doesn't just seek to destroy our homes, to rape our women, to sacrifice our children, they seek to pervert, to corrupt our very souls!" His voice cracked as he screamed the last part, horror at the sheer image creeping into his head.
"These beasts are an abonomination who seek to drag our very souls into the abyss they crawled out from! They are an abhorrence in the face of our lady Myrmidia! She who stood steadfast against the endless onslaught of countless horrors and foes! SHE WHO THEY COULD NOT BEST IN BATTLE; SO THEY KILLED HER THE COWARDS WAY!" He spit out at the memory, an ancestral hatred that burned deep in the heart of every Tilean, one that began to shine in the eyes of the hundreds that stood terrified around him. "WILL WE SHAME HER; HER MEMORY? WILL WE FALL AND BREAK LIKE RATS BEFORE THE FOE?! LIKE THOSE SHE DESPISED TO HER DYING MOMENT!? LIKE THOSE SHE SHIELDS US FROM EVEN NOW?!"
He didn't need to answer that question. The men and women around him did it. As one they screamed out, not any single discernible word, but as a united expression of defiance. Soldiers, guards and militia who had been in the process of throwing their weapons away and to run from the fight, almost certainly dooming them all, picked up again their pikes, their maces and swords and threw themselves into the fray with renewed fervor burning in their faces.
Gors and ungors who until just had been hacking and slashing at the backs of fleeing men, themselves breaking their crude excuse of a formation for the pursuit were instead met again with cold steel, wet with blood. For a moment it seemed like the battle would return to the grinding stalemate of before, until suddenly Goric, his hammer smeared with the brains of a minotaur, bellowed out a single command. As one the rows of dawi not directly fighting the beastmen pulled something out of the bags they were carrying, lit it on fire and tossed it into masses that assailed them. For a moment nothing happened until suddenly the world was raptured again, not by a single explosion, but multiple dozen smaller ones, fire and shrapnel immolating much of the foe.
More screams overwhelmed Emanuello, these ones lightening his spirit. For they were screams of pain, of unholy monsters suffering and dying in agony. Those very cries spooked the gorgons, halting their charge towards his meager pike square. One however clubbed its comrades over the head, then ignored bullets tearing into its hide. He balked at seeing it heft a chunk of rubble the size of a horse, roaring as it tossed the improvised weapon.
The wet crunches of several remaining guards getting crushed took away his buoyed resolve, and that of his remaining men. In exchange the dumb brutes seemed delighted at the idea, another hefting a man sized stone to whip it at his group; Emanuello stumbled away at the rock landing right beside him, a sharp crunch splattering him with iron tasting gore. The impact felt like a small quake, throwing off his balance so he staggered just outside of his protective block.
As he regained his footing a fresh bolt from the shaman tore into the dwarfs, adding a hellish shout he never heard from the short folk before, giving him a glimpse of several Dawi writhing into a green goop. That awful sight shocked him, long enough for one gorgon to roar with a rumbling laughter, charging up and ignoring the several pikes piercing its flesh.
Emanuello had just brought his sword up when the giant monster swiped him off his feet, yanking him boldly into the air. He thrashed against its stony grip, gasping at the air being forced from his lungs as he was shaken like a child's doll.
Just below was the gorgon's mutated snout, lips curled back to reveal a mouthful of tangled teeth, growing haphazardly in every shape imaginable, and some that didn't; it was grinning, that terrible beast was grinning. Arrows stuck into its hide, disregarded in favor of it bringing him closer to its slavering maw, letting the stomach churning stench of its breath waft over him. A quick glimpse of his death, bringing him to its mouth-
There was a flash of gleaming light, like a glint of steel, and the grip suddenly tightened to unbearable levels. Just a second later it unexpectedly relaxed, Emanuello slipping to plummet to the ground with an undignified cry. He impacted a second after a heavy weight smacked with a wet crunch, adding a fresh splatter of sickly red gore to his filthy jacket. Scrambling and ignoring the pain in his legs, he slowly processed that the gorgon wavered, dropping in a massive heap. The ground shook, bouncing him as the headless monster went still. Something had hit it and burst its skull like an overripe fruit.
He could do nothing but stare as all around him silver rained down, striking groups of beastmen and individual monsters like cannonballs, the sheer force and speed behind them splattering dozens of gors and ungors at once. To his side he could see a single sword flashed down, bisecting the other Gorgon from shoulder to groin, just as it had reached to slam one of its monstrous limbs into the broken dwarf phalanx. The rest had no more roared in confusion before they too were cut down, their threat ended in the blink of an eye,
Numbly blinking, what little sense Emanuello had left made him look up.
Descending from the evening sky was a sight like nothing he ever witnessed before. A gleaming silvery being floated in the air, clad in brightly shining armor that reflected all light that it caught, shaped as a feathered dress with huge silver wings, still although the being was flying. A flash of fluttering red grabbed his eye, discovering a mane of scarlet hair that was perhaps the most beautiful he ever saw.
It landed a dozen paces from him, turning to say in that familiar voice, "Are you alright?"
It, she, was Erza Scarlet, as difficult as that was for him to grasp. That witch who nearly killed him was almost unrecognizable, stern faced and tall with that gleaming armor, a sword in each hand and in defiance of reason had several more floating beside her metal wings. What he saw was just about what he imagined Myrmidia herself to appear as; the only flaw in the image was a somewhat undersized metal top.
Their meeting was interrupted by a roar so potent in fury that it shook Emanuello even besides this shining figure. Not too far away from them he saw Goric, charging through the routing beastmen, every single blow of his hammer killing one beastman, pulping throats and crushing limbs as he charged at the damned shaman, his voice loudly demanding vengeance.
Said shaman simply pointed its hideous staff at the dwarf elder, summoning a corona of green lightning before firing it at the throng leader, the beam being so bright that he had been forced to avert his eyes for a moment.
When he returned them he fully expected and dreaded to see the charred remains of his friend, only to see the witch there, standing protectively before him a barrier of blue light surrounding both her and the dwarf. It was hard to say who was more surprised, the dawi or the beastman.
Gone were her wings, replaced by what he could best describe as a priestly attire, white robes and aquamarine spiked armor dotting her body with elegant, dare he saw masterful craftsmanship, a long staff lance bristling with power in her hands and her brilliant scarlet hair knotted together into a ponytail. What stayed the same was her stern look, that of a warrior.
Before the shaman could react, she pointed her lance at him in an almost bored motion and once again the world exploded, just into white and blue instead of corrupting green.
AN:
So, here´s the new chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it .
Like always, your reviews, opinions and potential criticism of this story are higly appreciated and I´d be happy to answer them as far as possible. Also since I already know the question is coming, erza took so long because she thought they had the situation under control and didn´t want to break the chains that held her. That was until she heard the screams. Erza is a bit desensitized as to the danger of explosions, given that she lives in fairy tail.
Arialdo spit out a ball glob of blood and phlegm, coughing as he tried to ignore the agony coursing through his body to look at his surroundings. Just a couple minutes ago he had been joking and talking around with his pals, the discussion in question having settled on the "assets" of a captured witch. The next moment one of them, Rodrig, had spotted a single figure coming closer to Corno, barreling straight out of the woods. It had pointed a staff at them and then said something.
Each of them had heard it clearly, despite the distance between them. His ears had bleed in refusal to understand those horrible, horrible words. And all around him his comrades, friends he knew for almost his entire life, people he had joked and fought with, had drunk and celebrated with, they began to change.
Charles had horns sprout from his head, all the while he had been scratching his own eyes out, his screams turning into maddened bleating. Amon's had begun to grow additional hands as his entire body began to twist and bleed out of every pore. And the rest… oh mercy full Myrmidia!
Arialdo couldn't keep the bile back in his throat and vomited, not caring how his damaged throat screamed in protest. It had only been sheer luck that had allowed him to escape this terrible fate. In the midst of it he had been pushed down the wall by Rodrig's lungs, which had begun to push themselves out of his back like a horrid sort of wings.
There, there had been dwarfs up with them, with him. They hadn't talked much with them before, but they had been unaffected by whatever terrible curse that had befallen them. As he fell he could see how the small mercenaries had thrown themselves between them, bellowing war cries into their forceful tongue, their great axes cutting through his former friends and comrades like wheat. Then he hit the ground and everything went black.
He couldn't have been unconscious for too long, the sounds of fighting were still going strong above him, together with the unmistakable noise of dwarfen guns being fired at something in the distance. Considering the almost ear shattering roars that were heard in response to the gun fire, that something didn't seem to appreciate it.
Grunting in pain, the guardsman slowly pushed himself, taking a nearby stick as aid.
What was going on? Was it that cult that had tried to murder the prince? Were it the beastmen the witch had warned them from? But no. That couldn´t be. Beastmen, they couldn't, they couldn't do this. All they were capable of was ambushing some isolated travellers and trades! In none of the encounters the men of Corno had with them nor in any of the stories he had heard about hinted that they could do this!
He managed to slurf a paltry dozen feet from the wall before the world screamed once more, the sky and the night itself turning into a perverse green. A monstrous noise, the kind of which he had never heard before, hit him just moments before something akin to the hand of a giant picked him up and tossed him into the air, throwing him far into the town itself.
When he came up on the ground, it was accompanied by a sickening crunch, but strangely little pain. Arialdo had landed not too far away from the main market around which all of Corno was centered. He could even see the prince from here, him together with a thick pack of guards and the heavily armored dwarfs.
The Prince could even see him? But why was he making such a fa-?
XXXXXXX
Emanuello felt a sickness crawl up in him as he shot the abomination before him in the head. It wore what was roughly still recognizable as the green and brown of Corno's soldiery, or at least what little pieces of it remained on its body. It´s face had morphed into a perversion of the human grimace, spouting half a dozen barely formed mouths with arrays of teeth that ranged from just formed baby teeth to wolf-like fangs. And that was nothing to say of the rest of its body.
But even it couldn't compare to the horror that had spread itself out from what once had been Corno's walls.
Hundreds upon hundreds of ungors, armed with spears, clubs and axes, stormed over the rubble, butchering what little centers of guards and otherwise resistance stood in their way. Behind them, on piles of rubble and half collapsed buildings, came gors, shooting their crude and small bows at the fleeing and screaming citizenry, in which packs of minotaurs threw themselves into, swinging great black axes in a blender of carnage and death. Worst of all, behind them stood two immense creatures, spouting four arms each that were showing maws where there should be none.
One of them picked up a screaming man from a still standing piece of wall before lifting him above his mouth, squeezing the blood and organs out of him like one might squeeze out a grape, before throwing the mangled corpse into its mouth.
The second didn't seem to mind cannibalizing its allies either, falling on its knees to shovel screaming and protesting gors into its mouth before grabbing a half molten piece of wall to throw randomly into the city, surely bringing death and ruin to all in its path.
For just a moment Emanuello froze, his mind refusing to accept the sight before him. For just a moment this all seemed like the fabrication of a bad dream, a nightmare. Then the realisation of cold reality and the training of Tobaro's military academy his father had forced him to attend in his wisdom set in. and the Merchant Prince sprung into action.
"TO ME! ALL ARMED MEN AND WOMEN TO ME!" His voice, surprisingly free of stammers and trembles, hit the guards around him who were similarly in shock as he had been. With a curse he drew his sword and discarded the empty pistol with which he had gunned down what once might have been one of his men. "We need to seal off the breach in the wall or we all are lost!" He smacked a still frozen guard lieutenant over his head with the flat side of his blade, beating him out of his stupor. "MOVE, DAMN YOU!"
He looked for Goric and the other dwarfs, but they had already begun to move before he had even started to speak. Bellowing out something in Khazalid, Thunderpeak had called the nearby longbeards into a charge, smashing into the beastmen that had been butchering people nearest to them, Goric's mangled hammer bringing down a minotaur in a single blow, the runes on the hammer blazing like a comet striking the earth.
However many he slew, more beastmen came. Smaller creatures, brays he vaguely remembered they were called, only these things were ungainly mutants that could have been anything beforehand, loped over the rubble around their 'allies.' Many were cut down by the dwarfs, some were slain by the ungors, but they charged into battle like madmen. Many were going towards his party.
"FORM UP!" Emanuello shouted, his personal guards jolting as their training went into effect. Pikes went up, the men scrambling to form a rough square in the center of Corno. A basic if undersized pike wall, something that did well on the plains between mercenaries armies, now would serve to make those monsters pay for every inch of ground.
A pack of misshapen creatures reached them, only to impale themselves on the pikes; deep wounds tore into their grotesque flesh, inflicting lethal injuries that somehow didn't stop them. The screeching things kept reaching for his men, one with hateful eyes pounding on the haft in a vain attempt to get Emanuello in particular. Even after he lopped its head off that expression of raw hatred stayed.
"Hold fast!" Emanuello shouted, adding a small amount of confidence that rallied the men. A handful of surviving town guards ceased running to join his party, injured or not they helped fend off beastmen. Men and women fled around them, chased by monsters until the creatures saw the obvious challenge, heading for the dubious shelter of the church. One man fell from an arrow to the throat, another was taken down by a rat shaped thing before the others could slay it.
Meanwhile the dwarfs were doing better than his group, though that wasn't saying much. The hardy little men hacked and crushed anything that dared to attack them, meeting no end of monsters willing to test their mettle. Goric smashed a gor in time for one of his dwarfs to fall to a vicious rat that could have been a skaven, if not for the rows of horns and extra arm it sported. It paid with its life, but every dwarf that fell was one more crack in a very necessary defensive block.
Emanuello hacked up an ungor, then a bray, then helped brace his men when a gor slammed into the pikes. The polearm creaked dangerously, then with a whip crack of shattered wood the pike snapped, allowing the roaring gor to get ever closer. A yell had Emanuello plunge his sword into its throat, cutting off that ear splitting noise but nearly wrenching the weapon from his grasp. Thick bands of muscles protected it from his strike, its own mindless rage allowing it to ignore its lifeblood gushing out; his eyes went wide at it grabbing his arm, fortunately slacking a second later as it perished.
From the corner of his eyes he could see a group of minotaurs, together with maybe a dozen gors and ungors excited a partially destroyed building to their flanks, the remains of the inhabitants of said building smeared over their blades, before charging to fall into the unprotected rear of their very shaky lines. A lone man attempted to kill one with a rusty sword, and only added to their count.
For a moment it looked like catastrophe would engulf their desperate defence, before a tirade of "Khazukan Kazakit-HA!" was heard, followed by a phalanx of half a hundred dwarfs storming out of the market, wildly swinging their axes and hammers, crashing in the rear of the beastmen who had tried to assault them from behind.
Simultaneously heavily armored small forms appeared on various rooftops around the destroyed wall, furiously firing down bullets and crossbow bolts on the invaders, both reaping a bloody toll on anything they hit.
Emanuello felt relief flare up in him. The dawi mercenaries had arrived in full! And they hadn't come alone as, though clearly out of order and many lacking crucial equipment such as helmets or armor, came the guards and soldiers who had been manning the other parts of the city or had simply been with their families at the time the attack happened, now coming to reinforce their lines at this crucial moment.
For a moment, the tide turned. The beastmen's frenzy washed against Corno's defenders, like an ocean of madness and hate, but they held. Their pikes impaled and gutted those that rushed against their defences, the axes and hammers of the dwarfs smashed those that came to close, the dawi thunderers and Corno's crossbowmen thinned out the gors that dared to try and shot them with their crude bows.
The creatures died in droves. Bodies piled high where they fell, some beastmen falling to tear into their slain comrades before they too died, choking on meat and their own blood. Brays were thinning out, ungors came in fewer numbers, gors dropped in spite of some attempting to flee for their miserable lives. Emanuello held out hope they could persevere.
But a second later those hopes were dashed; a terrible roar announced the arrival of a pack of gigantic beasts, twice the height of an ogre and somehow even more grotesque than the monsters that had assailed them thus far. These giant creatures were similar to the other deforned monsters, three armed and sporting various mutations, eyes where they didn't belong, an extra mouth or two, and tree trunks for clubs. There were only four or five of them, but each one could single-handedly pose a threat to the entire town.
Emanuello still had the dwarfs, who didn't shake in place like the human defenders. Every dwarf with a ranged weapon smoothly switched their aim, some already taking shots at their eyes. Whatever could slow the rampaging monsters.
A bolt of green light sprung from the darkness, striking another group of guards a few dozen paces away. Before his eyes he saw something out of a nightmare: the men screamed, dropping weapons to clutch themselves, writhing as their flesh rippled. Clothes were shredded by freshly sprouted claws or by their bubbling skin, forming fur or great bulging muscles. He had to take a step back into one of his equally horrified men at the sight of them, hearing their cries turn deeper, more bestial; faces elongated into snouts, pain changing into brainless rage, the former guards turning towards his men with the same agression as the rest of the beastmen.
"What in Myrmidia's name is that!?" One of his men screamed.
Emanuello drew upon strength he didn't have to shout, "Hold fast!" It was a wonder he didn't squeak the order.
Arrows and bullets tore into the former guards, putting them out of their misery. The Dawi had reacted to the unspeakable attack as they had everything else, cutting them down in a flurry of shots. Even as the former men died the rest of the beastmen horde seemed invigorated, their diminishing numbers now being compensated by a renewed fury.
As the gorgons bore down on Emanuello a tall figure emerged from the darkness, what had to be a shaman. It was almost normal compared to the rest of the creatures, wielding a staff as green light grew in its hand.
"Tremble in fear meat! Ghurleth is your reckoning!" It shouted in a loud deep voice that had just a slight twist to it, an unnaturalness that birthed in him the desire to crawl into a ball and hide in the deepest, darkest corner, away from that thing.
And the merchant prince wasn't the only one. All around him, Men, who until just now had been fighting savagely to protect their families and homes, began to shake, the formation began to lose cohesion and Emanuello knew that if something wasn't done right now to keep their morale up, all would be lost.
"Men of Corno, hold fast! Do not falter to the terrors of the night!" How Emanuello's voice didn't crack he didn't know. "We are all that stands between these hellspawn and your families! Your home! If you give into the fear, all you hold dear will be lost! Your children will become nothing but food and sacrificial lambs for these monsters, our women will become nothing more than broodmares!" He saw how his words began to reach some of the men, who were until a moment ago looking ready to bolt. That primal fear that had filled them began to be replaced with a shaky courage born out of sheer desperation.
That little flame of courage is something he had to seize upon, if Corno was to be saved!
"Look at them!" He pointed his blade towards the men who were screaming and being twisted before their very eyes. "The enemy doesn't just seek to destroy our homes, to rape our women, to sacrifice our children, they seek to pervert, to corrupt our very souls!" His voice cracked as he screamed the last part, horror at the sheer image creeping into his head.
"These beasts are an abonomination who seek to drag our very souls into the abyss they crawled out from! They are an abhorrence in the face of our lady Myrmidia! She who stood steadfast against the endless onslaught of countless horrors and foes! SHE WHO THEY COULD NOT BEST IN BATTLE; SO THEY KILLED HER THE COWARDS WAY!" He spit out at the memory, an ancestral hatred that burned deep in the heart of every Tilean, one that began to shine in the eyes of the hundreds that stood terrified around him. "WILL WE SHAME HER; HER MEMORY? WILL WE FALL AND BREAK LIKE RATS BEFORE THE FOE?! LIKE THOSE SHE DESPISED TO HER DYING MOMENT!? LIKE THOSE SHE SHIELDS US FROM EVEN NOW?!"
He didn't need to answer that question. The men and women around him did it. As one they screamed out, not any single discernible word, but as a united expression of defiance. Soldiers, guards and militia who had been in the process of throwing their weapons away and to run from the fight, almost certainly dooming them all, picked up again their pikes, their maces and swords and threw themselves into the fray with renewed fervor burning in their faces.
Gors and ungors who until just had been hacking and slashing at the backs of fleeing men, themselves breaking their crude excuse of a formation for the pursuit were instead met again with cold steel, wet with blood. For a moment it seemed like the battle would return to the grinding stalemate of before, until suddenly Goric, his hammer smeared with the brains of a minotaur, bellowed out a single command. As one the rows of dawi not directly fighting the beastmen pulled something out of the bags they were carrying, lit it on fire and tossed it into masses that assailed them. For a moment nothing happened until suddenly the world was raptured again, not by a single explosion, but multiple dozen smaller ones, fire and shrapnel immolating much of the foe.
More screams overwhelmed Emanuello, these ones lightening his spirit. For they were screams of pain, of unholy monsters suffering and dying in agony. Those very cries spooked the gorgons, halting their charge towards his meager pike square. One however clubbed its comrades over the head, then ignored bullets tearing into its hide. He balked at seeing it heft a chunk of rubble the size of a horse, roaring as it tossed the improvised weapon.
The wet crunches of several remaining guards getting crushed took away his buoyed resolve, and that of his remaining men. In exchange the dumb brutes seemed delighted at the idea, another hefting a man sized stone to whip it at his group; Emanuello stumbled away at the rock landing right beside him, a sharp crunch splattering him with iron tasting gore. The impact felt like a small quake, throwing off his balance so he staggered just outside of his protective block.
As he regained his footing a fresh bolt from the shaman tore into the dwarfs, adding a hellish shout he never heard from the short folk before, giving him a glimpse of several Dawi writhing into a green goop. That awful sight shocked him, long enough for one gorgon to roar with a rumbling laughter, charging up and ignoring the several pikes piercing its flesh.
Emanuello had just brought his sword up when the giant monster swiped him off his feet, yanking him boldly into the air. He thrashed against its stony grip, gasping at the air being forced from his lungs as he was shaken like a child's doll.
Just below was the gorgon's mutated snout, lips curled back to reveal a mouthful of tangled teeth, growing haphazardly in every shape imaginable, and some that didn't; it was grinning, that terrible beast was grinning. Arrows stuck into its hide, disregarded in favor of it bringing him closer to its slavering maw, letting the stomach churning stench of its breath waft over him. A quick glimpse of his death, bringing him to its mouth-
There was a flash of gleaming light, like a glint of steel, and the grip suddenly tightened to unbearable levels. Just a second later it unexpectedly relaxed, Emanuello slipping to plummet to the ground with an undignified cry. He impacted a second after a heavy weight smacked with a wet crunch, adding a fresh splatter of sickly red gore to his filthy jacket. Scrambling and ignoring the pain in his legs, he slowly processed that the gorgon wavered, dropping in a massive heap. The ground shook, bouncing him as the headless monster went still. Something had hit it and burst its skull like an overripe fruit.
He could do nothing but stare as all around him silver rained down, striking groups of beastmen and individual monsters like cannonballs, the sheer force and speed behind them splattering dozens of gors and ungors at once. To his side he could see a single sword flashed down, bisecting the other Gorgon from shoulder to groin, just as it had reached to slam one of its monstrous limbs into the broken dwarf phalanx. The rest had no more roared in confusion before they too were cut down, their threat ended in the blink of an eye,
Numbly blinking, what little sense Emanuello had left made him look up.
Descending from the evening sky was a sight like nothing he ever witnessed before. A gleaming silvery being floated in the air, clad in brightly shining armor that reflected all light that it caught, shaped as a feathered dress with huge silver wings, still although the being was flying. A flash of fluttering red grabbed his eye, discovering a mane of scarlet hair that was perhaps the most beautiful he ever saw.
It landed a dozen paces from him, turning to say in that familiar voice, "Are you alright?"
It, she, was Erza Scarlet, as difficult as that was for him to grasp. That witch who nearly killed him was almost unrecognizable, stern faced and tall with that gleaming armor, a sword in each hand and in defiance of reason had several more floating beside her metal wings. What he saw was just about what he imagined Myrmidia herself to appear as; the only flaw in the image was a somewhat undersized metal top.
Their meeting was interrupted by a roar so potent in fury that it shook Emanuello even besides this shining figure. Not too far away from them he saw Goric, charging through the routing beastmen, every single blow of his hammer killing one beastman, pulping throats and crushing limbs as he charged at the damned shaman, his voice loudly demanding vengeance.
Said shaman simply pointed its hideous staff at the dwarf elder, summoning a corona of green lightning before firing it at the throng leader, the beam being so bright that he had been forced to avert his eyes for a moment.
When he returned them he fully expected and dreaded to see the charred remains of his friend, only to see the witch there, standing protectively before him a barrier of blue light surrounding both her and the dwarf. It was hard to say who was more surprised, the dawi or the beastman.
Gone were her wings, replaced by what he could best describe as a priestly attire, white robes and aquamarine spiked armor dotting her body with elegant, dare he saw masterful craftsmanship, a long staff lance bristling with power in her hands and her brilliant scarlet hair knotted together into a ponytail. What stayed the same was her stern look, that of a warrior.
Before the shaman could react, she pointed her lance at him in an almost bored motion and once again the world exploded, just into white and blue instead of corrupting green.
AN:
So, here´s the new chapter. Hope you all enjoyed it .
Like always, your reviews, opinions and potential criticism of this story are higly appreciated and I´d be happy to answer them as far as possible. Also since I already know the question is coming, erza took so long because she thought they had the situation under control and didn´t want to break the chains that held her. That was until she heard the screams. Erza is a bit desensitized as to the danger of explosions, given that she lives in fairy tail.
orchamus
Caffeine King
- Location
- Right beside you :0
Read this with Erza battle music
Absolutely glorious, seriously, this was the best chapter of anything I've read all week, and considering how much I read that's saying something.
Absolutely glorious, seriously, this was the best chapter of anything I've read all week, and considering how much I read that's saying something.
Chapter 11
- Pronouns
- He
Chapter 11
Erza was no stranger to war, to the carnage of combat. When she was just a small child, a young girl not even in her teenage years, she saw her father figure blown to pieces in front of her very eyes, shielding her and her friends against the guardian demons of the cult with his body.
She remembered personally leading the rebellion that arose against these monsters, sending a hurricane of steel back at them, turning the Zeref cult's greatest advantage, their magic, against them. The Tower of Heaven fell that day by her doing.
She had killed many of them back then, not caring about the carnage her magic inflicted on them as she raced to liberate Jellal. The experience had left her just a bit desensitized about death compared to her comrades in the guild. She didn't enjoy killing, but she was no stranger to it.
And yet, the things that she saw as she flew over the city, over Corno? It disgusted her. People disfigured in mind and body, men, women and even a number of children who had been to close the destroyed walls were slaughtered.
As such it was not with little anger that she summoned her blades to rain them down on the invading monsters, mere scraping blows already eviscerating any she hit. Even the two larger ones who spouted multiple armes just…. Burst when they made contact with her attacks. Flying overhead in Heaven's Wheel, she could scarcely believe the beastmen were dying so easily.
How could it have been that these monsters got so deep into the city, causing this much death and destruction, when they were so weak? How could this be? Where were Corno's Rune knights? Where were their mages?
Spotting a deformed creature four times the height of a man, she switched tracks from a pack of runty beastmen upon spotting Prince Emanuello being picked up in its huge paws. He fought and stabbed, the monster simply roaring like a vulcan capturing a prisoner. Flinging another sword saved his life, pulping the thing's head in a shower of gore; she winced at seeing him fall, even though it was only a little drop.
Landing in front of him, Erza tracked several other beastmen scrambling into cover, or running away. She then turned to Emanuello to ask, "Are you alright?"
Lying on the ground in evident pain, Emanuello gawked at her. Erza frowned, but a quick glance showed he was alright, mostly. His men weren't looking so good, clutching their pikes in anticipation of more beastmen behind her.
A roar swam over the whole town, loud even by her standards; was that a dragon slayer's battle cry? Whipping around, she did a double take at one of the dwarfs charging into the fray, his white beard fluttering as his hammer swung, crushing one monster after another. Even without magic his speed and sheer ferocity earned her approval, acting as the final straw that routed the beastmen.
Slaying one more a second later, the dwarf turned to a lone beastmen standing apart from the rest of the horde; that one had Erza freeze. It felt… different. Not like the rest of them, or the humans here. That thing gave off a sensation she recognized all too well. It had magic!
The shaman sneered at the dwarf's roar, pointing its glowing staff at him, letting loose a bolt of sickly green light; Erza darted over to him, her armor flashing from Heaven's Wheel to Lightning Empress, forming just in time, dashing between the dwarf and the beastman, ripping her lance up to deflect the incoming lightning bolt.
The power flowed over her lance, hitting her skin. She let out a surprised grunt as it washed over her. It felt nothing like being hit by Laxus' lightning, there was a pain to it, but that by far was overshadowed by a sudden rush of sickness and the desire to throw up, almost as if she had eaten something rotten.
Grimacing, she flipped her lance up and sent a good chunk of the lightning, mixed with her own magic back at the horned creature, the latter not even having time to really register her before being engulfed by a hailstorm of energy.
For a moment it seemed as if this was enough to destroy him, but unlike his many companions, he refused to go down in one hit. Instead a green amulet around his neck, formed like a skull, began to glow in a sickening green light, shielding the enemy mage for a couple seconds. Long enough for him to summon a barrier on his own, just before the necklace shattered under the strain of her attack.
The beastman shaman let out a loud chortle that grated her nerves, dripping with arrogance. "Ghurleth sneers at your weak attack! Ghurleth's power is immeasurable-"
Erza's patience was at an end; with a shout of effort she threw her lance at the shaman, not holding back at all. She thought she saw a dumbfounded look on the thing's besital face, then it turned into a red mist, the body flying back from the sheer power of her attack. Of its detestable head there was no sign, it evaporated long before the lance finished passing through, impaling on a broken wall and shattering it further.
Taking shallow breaths from effort, Erza straightened up first to check on the short man; like Emanuello he was dumbstruck, hammer quivering ever so slightly. He recovered much faster though, his bearded expression twisting into indignant rage.
"How did you do that?" He started to demand, face looking at her with clear suspicion in his eyes, weighing in his chances in a fight between the two of them most likely, given the way he wielded his mangled hammer. Erza wondered what could have cut off a whole third of the hammerhead like that?
"Are you alright?" She asked first, backing up so he had room to stagger back to his feet.
"You-" The small one began, eyeing her. "How did you break out of our chains? Those were runic true steel chains."
"They were pretty strong." She quickly complimented. Took her a couple moments to break them, once the screams had started. "I'm sorry for breaking them!" She quickly apologized, seeing him scowling.
"You're sorry?" He balked. "How did you even do it in the first place!? No human should be able to damage them, let alone-"
More screams ended the conversation, Erza was already rushing off. One of the giant four armed monsters had survived, desperately trying to stop its organs and guts from spilling where a stray blade of hers had cut it up. Though wounded it was frantically staggering away, trying to put as much distance between her as it could. That did it little good, she covered the gap between them in an instant, her lance slicing through his left leg just below its knee, sending it tumbling down.
With a bellowing scream it lashed out towards her, but she dodged its sluggish, almost snail like movements with ease before driving her lance into its back, the accompanying electricity that hugged the weapon cooking its innards. That caused it to scream again before a last blow against the head finally put it out of its misery.
Swinging back around she recognized that the surviving beastmen were fleeing, utterly broken at the sight of their most powerful champions being decimated with ease, all the while being chased by the rallying and wrathful townsfolk. Who, together with the supportive fire of the dwarfs, cut down any which tried to make a stand and those few that actually managed to form something resembling a block of resistance were mowed down by one or two lightning strikes from her.
Many died in the counterattack, but many more fled over the rubble. Several were hit by arrows or gunfire, though only a handful of those died, the rest broke off shafts or just ignored the projectiles sticking out of them. That would not do.
Switching back to Heaven's Wheel, Erza floated into the air. Chasing fleeing enemies rubbed her the wrong way, but after witnessing that display of brutality she wasn't about to let these monsters try attacking again.
Below her Emanuello hobbled after her, waving his sword frantically. "Wait! Lady Scarlet! Erza!"
Just by looking at him she saw he was in no condition to fight. Erza promised to make up for taking care of the beastmen for him; with a rattle of her armor's wings she shot off, leaving behind the fires and the smoke to give chase.
The beastmen likely thought they would be safe when they hit the treeline, a dozen of their number not making it that far. Swords launched at the smaller things, cutting into their backs with braying screams. That likewise didn't sit right with her, a feeling she ignored to finish the job. For she was still a Fairy Tail wizard, she didn't leave her work half done; with a lot of collateral admittedly, most of the time it wasn't her fault…
Shaking her head, Erza swooped to cut a fleeing goat monster in half, the last one before the rest of the horde scrambled through the trees. She shot off again, feeling branches smack against her face with annoyance; there were a lot left, she knew she couldn't get all the beastmen but she could still thin them out.
Starting with a duo that had large whiskers for some reason, running and panting for breath. A swoop brought her close enough to bisect them both, catching a surprised yell nearby that had her race off. Another fell, another, another…
Bringing a tree down on a couple's heads, Erza scowled. Eliminating one or three at a time was taking too long; landing with a small quake, she requipped a flightless armor, one that reduced her mobility in exchange for raw damage potential. Silver became orange and black, her long mane dropped as a pair of twin tails, and her reflective steel blade reshaped into a black and red sword with a bronze hilt, sprouting fire when she brought it to bear.
Flame Empress armor usually covered Natsu's area of expertise, here it would be of great use. And people of Corno didn't need the woods here that badly, they were mostly traders instead of loggers. There was no reason why she didn't swing her Flame Sword in a wide arc, letting out a war cry as a wave of fire gushed out, incinerating the nearest trees; over the inferno she heard a couple screams.
Grimacing at the idea of making those things suffer, Erza went to work. Shouts came with each swing, igniting whole swathes of the forest each time. When she had a wide area bathed in flames she pointed the sword, making a stream of fire pour from the tip, burning everything she aimed at. Over the roaring of the inferno she heard more screams, none of which lasted long.
Erza's deluge had to stop eventually, due to her coughing. The smoke was getting thick, she had trouble seeing where anything was; the armor ensured she wasn't harmed by the fires licking at her form, feeling barely any heat. Turning and covering her mouth, she took off in a random direction, seeking to clear the blaze she created. Crashing through the bushes, she accidentally stumbled upon a beastman writhing and screaming, its fur was burning. She stabbed it through the chest and carried on.
When she entered a small clearing Erza requipped Heaven's Wheel, wincing at the feeling of unbearable heat returning, what resistance she had against the choking smoke vanishing. Immediately she leapt into the sky, taking flight through a plume of ashy smoke before finally emerging into the steadily warming evening sky.
"There, now… oh." Erza's half smile dropped. The forest below was a blaze, most of it engulfed by hungry flames she lit. Whatever was making a home there was certifiably gone now, and all it cost was putting what remained of Corno at risk, as well as burning dozens of acres worth of woods, along with any hunting or other things that could be done.
Erza… may have overdone it.
"Uh… right." She cleared her throat, locating Corno through the plumes and taking flight towards the city.
AN:
And here is the next chapter. Hope you all enjoy and see you next time. Criticismn and comments are as always highly valued and welcome
Erza was no stranger to war, to the carnage of combat. When she was just a small child, a young girl not even in her teenage years, she saw her father figure blown to pieces in front of her very eyes, shielding her and her friends against the guardian demons of the cult with his body.
She remembered personally leading the rebellion that arose against these monsters, sending a hurricane of steel back at them, turning the Zeref cult's greatest advantage, their magic, against them. The Tower of Heaven fell that day by her doing.
She had killed many of them back then, not caring about the carnage her magic inflicted on them as she raced to liberate Jellal. The experience had left her just a bit desensitized about death compared to her comrades in the guild. She didn't enjoy killing, but she was no stranger to it.
And yet, the things that she saw as she flew over the city, over Corno? It disgusted her. People disfigured in mind and body, men, women and even a number of children who had been to close the destroyed walls were slaughtered.
As such it was not with little anger that she summoned her blades to rain them down on the invading monsters, mere scraping blows already eviscerating any she hit. Even the two larger ones who spouted multiple armes just…. Burst when they made contact with her attacks. Flying overhead in Heaven's Wheel, she could scarcely believe the beastmen were dying so easily.
How could it have been that these monsters got so deep into the city, causing this much death and destruction, when they were so weak? How could this be? Where were Corno's Rune knights? Where were their mages?
Spotting a deformed creature four times the height of a man, she switched tracks from a pack of runty beastmen upon spotting Prince Emanuello being picked up in its huge paws. He fought and stabbed, the monster simply roaring like a vulcan capturing a prisoner. Flinging another sword saved his life, pulping the thing's head in a shower of gore; she winced at seeing him fall, even though it was only a little drop.
Landing in front of him, Erza tracked several other beastmen scrambling into cover, or running away. She then turned to Emanuello to ask, "Are you alright?"
Lying on the ground in evident pain, Emanuello gawked at her. Erza frowned, but a quick glance showed he was alright, mostly. His men weren't looking so good, clutching their pikes in anticipation of more beastmen behind her.
A roar swam over the whole town, loud even by her standards; was that a dragon slayer's battle cry? Whipping around, she did a double take at one of the dwarfs charging into the fray, his white beard fluttering as his hammer swung, crushing one monster after another. Even without magic his speed and sheer ferocity earned her approval, acting as the final straw that routed the beastmen.
Slaying one more a second later, the dwarf turned to a lone beastmen standing apart from the rest of the horde; that one had Erza freeze. It felt… different. Not like the rest of them, or the humans here. That thing gave off a sensation she recognized all too well. It had magic!
The shaman sneered at the dwarf's roar, pointing its glowing staff at him, letting loose a bolt of sickly green light; Erza darted over to him, her armor flashing from Heaven's Wheel to Lightning Empress, forming just in time, dashing between the dwarf and the beastman, ripping her lance up to deflect the incoming lightning bolt.
The power flowed over her lance, hitting her skin. She let out a surprised grunt as it washed over her. It felt nothing like being hit by Laxus' lightning, there was a pain to it, but that by far was overshadowed by a sudden rush of sickness and the desire to throw up, almost as if she had eaten something rotten.
Grimacing, she flipped her lance up and sent a good chunk of the lightning, mixed with her own magic back at the horned creature, the latter not even having time to really register her before being engulfed by a hailstorm of energy.
For a moment it seemed as if this was enough to destroy him, but unlike his many companions, he refused to go down in one hit. Instead a green amulet around his neck, formed like a skull, began to glow in a sickening green light, shielding the enemy mage for a couple seconds. Long enough for him to summon a barrier on his own, just before the necklace shattered under the strain of her attack.
The beastman shaman let out a loud chortle that grated her nerves, dripping with arrogance. "Ghurleth sneers at your weak attack! Ghurleth's power is immeasurable-"
Erza's patience was at an end; with a shout of effort she threw her lance at the shaman, not holding back at all. She thought she saw a dumbfounded look on the thing's besital face, then it turned into a red mist, the body flying back from the sheer power of her attack. Of its detestable head there was no sign, it evaporated long before the lance finished passing through, impaling on a broken wall and shattering it further.
Taking shallow breaths from effort, Erza straightened up first to check on the short man; like Emanuello he was dumbstruck, hammer quivering ever so slightly. He recovered much faster though, his bearded expression twisting into indignant rage.
"How did you do that?" He started to demand, face looking at her with clear suspicion in his eyes, weighing in his chances in a fight between the two of them most likely, given the way he wielded his mangled hammer. Erza wondered what could have cut off a whole third of the hammerhead like that?
"Are you alright?" She asked first, backing up so he had room to stagger back to his feet.
"You-" The small one began, eyeing her. "How did you break out of our chains? Those were runic true steel chains."
"They were pretty strong." She quickly complimented. Took her a couple moments to break them, once the screams had started. "I'm sorry for breaking them!" She quickly apologized, seeing him scowling.
"You're sorry?" He balked. "How did you even do it in the first place!? No human should be able to damage them, let alone-"
More screams ended the conversation, Erza was already rushing off. One of the giant four armed monsters had survived, desperately trying to stop its organs and guts from spilling where a stray blade of hers had cut it up. Though wounded it was frantically staggering away, trying to put as much distance between her as it could. That did it little good, she covered the gap between them in an instant, her lance slicing through his left leg just below its knee, sending it tumbling down.
With a bellowing scream it lashed out towards her, but she dodged its sluggish, almost snail like movements with ease before driving her lance into its back, the accompanying electricity that hugged the weapon cooking its innards. That caused it to scream again before a last blow against the head finally put it out of its misery.
Swinging back around she recognized that the surviving beastmen were fleeing, utterly broken at the sight of their most powerful champions being decimated with ease, all the while being chased by the rallying and wrathful townsfolk. Who, together with the supportive fire of the dwarfs, cut down any which tried to make a stand and those few that actually managed to form something resembling a block of resistance were mowed down by one or two lightning strikes from her.
Many died in the counterattack, but many more fled over the rubble. Several were hit by arrows or gunfire, though only a handful of those died, the rest broke off shafts or just ignored the projectiles sticking out of them. That would not do.
Switching back to Heaven's Wheel, Erza floated into the air. Chasing fleeing enemies rubbed her the wrong way, but after witnessing that display of brutality she wasn't about to let these monsters try attacking again.
Below her Emanuello hobbled after her, waving his sword frantically. "Wait! Lady Scarlet! Erza!"
Just by looking at him she saw he was in no condition to fight. Erza promised to make up for taking care of the beastmen for him; with a rattle of her armor's wings she shot off, leaving behind the fires and the smoke to give chase.
The beastmen likely thought they would be safe when they hit the treeline, a dozen of their number not making it that far. Swords launched at the smaller things, cutting into their backs with braying screams. That likewise didn't sit right with her, a feeling she ignored to finish the job. For she was still a Fairy Tail wizard, she didn't leave her work half done; with a lot of collateral admittedly, most of the time it wasn't her fault…
Shaking her head, Erza swooped to cut a fleeing goat monster in half, the last one before the rest of the horde scrambled through the trees. She shot off again, feeling branches smack against her face with annoyance; there were a lot left, she knew she couldn't get all the beastmen but she could still thin them out.
Starting with a duo that had large whiskers for some reason, running and panting for breath. A swoop brought her close enough to bisect them both, catching a surprised yell nearby that had her race off. Another fell, another, another…
Bringing a tree down on a couple's heads, Erza scowled. Eliminating one or three at a time was taking too long; landing with a small quake, she requipped a flightless armor, one that reduced her mobility in exchange for raw damage potential. Silver became orange and black, her long mane dropped as a pair of twin tails, and her reflective steel blade reshaped into a black and red sword with a bronze hilt, sprouting fire when she brought it to bear.
Flame Empress armor usually covered Natsu's area of expertise, here it would be of great use. And people of Corno didn't need the woods here that badly, they were mostly traders instead of loggers. There was no reason why she didn't swing her Flame Sword in a wide arc, letting out a war cry as a wave of fire gushed out, incinerating the nearest trees; over the inferno she heard a couple screams.
Grimacing at the idea of making those things suffer, Erza went to work. Shouts came with each swing, igniting whole swathes of the forest each time. When she had a wide area bathed in flames she pointed the sword, making a stream of fire pour from the tip, burning everything she aimed at. Over the roaring of the inferno she heard more screams, none of which lasted long.
Erza's deluge had to stop eventually, due to her coughing. The smoke was getting thick, she had trouble seeing where anything was; the armor ensured she wasn't harmed by the fires licking at her form, feeling barely any heat. Turning and covering her mouth, she took off in a random direction, seeking to clear the blaze she created. Crashing through the bushes, she accidentally stumbled upon a beastman writhing and screaming, its fur was burning. She stabbed it through the chest and carried on.
When she entered a small clearing Erza requipped Heaven's Wheel, wincing at the feeling of unbearable heat returning, what resistance she had against the choking smoke vanishing. Immediately she leapt into the sky, taking flight through a plume of ashy smoke before finally emerging into the steadily warming evening sky.
"There, now… oh." Erza's half smile dropped. The forest below was a blaze, most of it engulfed by hungry flames she lit. Whatever was making a home there was certifiably gone now, and all it cost was putting what remained of Corno at risk, as well as burning dozens of acres worth of woods, along with any hunting or other things that could be done.
Erza… may have overdone it.
"Uh… right." She cleared her throat, locating Corno through the plumes and taking flight towards the city.
AN:
And here is the next chapter. Hope you all enjoy and see you next time. Criticismn and comments are as always highly valued and welcome
- Pronouns
- Masculine
Meanwhile Drycha is shrieking in rage.