That sounds more like you want to write an omake.
[⎯⎯∈] Take the self-guided tour
"Hey look, I'm deceptively powerful but ultimately not particularly helpful," you say as you don the so-called 'Grey Beard's Beard.' The notation stresses that it isn't the beard of a Greybeard, but rather a vestigial beard that grew from another, greyer, beard.
"Oh, wise and smelly one, mayhaps you will grant me use of your mountaintop hobo shack, that I may better reach out to the stars." Neither of you are sure how the large, wooden club that Lutecia is heaving about is supposed to work as a 'Prototype Astronautic Propulsion Device', but that doesn't mean you can't both have a good giggle about it.
Your revelries are cut short, however, at the sound of a rattling doorknob.
"Oh snap, it's the fuzz! Quick, act natural," you cry as you dive for one of the display stands and put on your best crotchety, old wino pose. Lutecia drops to the floor and throws a 'Baby Gargantuan Snowcat' pelt over herself.
"Muahaha, I return, dear collection, from yet another night of dastardly deeds. Soon I will have my sweet sister back, and we can all be together again," a man, fresh from his job at the local abattoir, based on the voice and smell, announces to the room. "That's right, old comrades," he says as he skips over to a shelf littered with metal hooks and calipers. "With each passing night and each passing soul I feel my goal move closer."
He executes a flawless 720° pirouette which places him in front of a plain wooden pipe, which he picks up and nuzzles against his cheek. "Ah yes, faithful companion, I miss her too, but our long wait is almost over." He lays the flute back down with the love and tenderness one would afford a newborn babe. "And you, my newest friends," he hops through the air and lands on a single toe, one leg supporting him and the other held out straight behind him, "I can't wait to introduce you to…" He trails off and his eyes bug at the empty bowls whose contents were now part of a lovely, glowing mural you painted on the kitchen wall. He takes several deep before walking calmly to a set of rusty silverware which he begins slowly stroking.
"Dear, oh, dear, what do we have here? It seems as if some inconsiderate snooper has been poking their nose where it doesn't belong." Almost faster than you can register, he spins, his hand flicks, and a large portion of your vision goes black. You shriek in shock and outrage as your hands move to pull the small shaft jutting from your ruined eye. With grit teeth and a savage grunt you tear the object free and hold it up to inspect it.
A fork. This imminent floor-stain of a man just brutalised you with a
fork.
"Flandre!" Lutecia is up, a spell readying in her hands.
"Stay back, Lutecia." You consider drawing Laevateinn to deal with him, but decide against it. No, scum like this doesn't deserve such dignity. You prepare the fork in a guard position and focus as much hatred and rage as you can through a single-eyed glare. "He's mine."
"Ah, confident, are we? Well then," there is a flash and then he's holding a large, curved knife, visibly stained from excessive use, "I see no harm in humouring you."
You have time to see a smile split his face and then he's on you, using his superior reach to slash wildly from beyond your effective range. You manage to deflect his attacks, but aren't able to get any of our own through his assault. He draws back for a heavy blow and you take the opportunity to lunge at him, however the moment you plant your weight on one foot, his leg snaps out and kicks it out from under you. You raise your weapon to intercept his counterattack, but he once again proves his skill with a knife by swapping it to his other hand and raking it across your ribs on your blind side. You feel warmth flowing down your side and tally up yet another destroyed outfit.
"Ho ho, I don't know how you found out that I am the Butcher, little detective, but it seems you make a better gumshoe than you do a champion. You need not fear that your efforts will be for nothing, though; You and your friend will make for welcome subjects in my experiments." You can tell he's trying to rile you up with whatever nonsense he's spouting, and it is working, but that doesn't mean you can't use it to your advantage.
You let out a wordless snarl and leap forward. He smirks, thinking he's made you blunder into a fatal error, as he once again goes for your blind side. You're ready for it this time, though. You deflect his strike, sending sparks inexplicably flying from the contact, and allow the force to lift and carry you across the room. You plant your feet on the wall and feel the world hang for just a moment before launching yourself off and rocketing towards him. To his credit, he is able to raise his weapon and position it in the path of your good eye, but you're a ballistic vampire with a four pronged warhead, and whatever gods run this place decide that that his luck stat just isn't high enough to deal with that.
You catch his blade of his weapon in between the tines of your own and turn it aside as you introduce your fist to his nose. There is a
delightful crunching noise that is accompanied by him rolling bottom over brow across the floor and into a twisted heap against the far wall.
"Heh, whose shoes are full of gum now, huh?" you declare victoriously. Suddenly, the self-processed Butcher's body becomes inflamed with golden light, causing you to hiss and shield your eye from the irritating glow.
"Yes, I'll admit that you are more formidable than you first appear," his mashed face says from a decidedly unhealthy looking angle. "But, then again," his head then rolls back into place of its own accord, "I've got some tricks of my own." You watch in fascination as his body pulls itself up like a limp puppet, broken bones audible straightening and resetting. The brilliant glow is then replaced by a dark purple and the scent of rotted meat fills the air. Lifting itself from a portal in the floor is a monster that looks like it was stitched together from the cadavers of various people and creatures, and you feel your jaw drop. Patchouli would no doubt be mortified at the sheer disorder the thing's form exemplifies.
You are still staring at it in disbelief when it rears its arm back and-
"Fus ro DIE!"
Lutecia brings the improbably large club down on the golem and pulverises it flat into the floorboards and then some distance further. If you were stunned before then you're outright flabbergasted now. The Butcher seems to share in your state and is standing limp-shouldered and dumbfounded by the cloud of pink mist that Lutecia's attack left behind.
"What? I thought this just became a two-versus-two. Did I mess up?"
"N-no, Lutecia. That was very good." You turn to face the Butcher but can't help giving Lutecia one more glance over your shoulder. "Remind me to invite you to the next zombie uprising, okay?"
The two of you skip merrily back to the inn together, too high in spirit to be bothered by the dark or cold. Lutecia was sadly forced to leave her club behind, as it was just too large and ungainly to carry around, but you are very pleased with your souvenir of the night's events.
"So, that was a pretty
eye opening experience, wouldn't you say, Lutecia?" You brandish your fork's new accessory at her. "Hey, did you
see what I did there?" you struggle to say through your giggles.
"Yes, I get it, now get that gross thing away from me." For a girl who just no doubt set a new world record in grinding meat patties, she was getting awfully green in the face about it. "Urgh, you know that 'eye for an eye' is supposed to be figurative, right?"