Talia Cadash, a Dwarven Shieldmaiden ports an impressive track record or successful adventures but what happens to a living weapon like her when there are no more wars to fight? This is a collection of periods through Talia's life where her skill in battle cannot save her.
The Shieldmaidens Tale
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Part 1: The Breaker In Chains
"Rezan the Chainer. Dead or Alive. Last spotted in the countryside between Oswill and The Dale."
She had read it a hundred times over and still her nerves were never calmed. The white haired Dwarf rolled up the bounty poster and stuffed it into her pack, the rustling of her chainmail making each movement sound similar to someone gently shaking a jar of coins.
"Headin' North then, Tal?" The gruff, scale faced man before her leaned in, watching her eyes.
"Hmm? Uh, right, y-yeah. Sorry, Shiv, just tryna… plan." She replied, nodding to him assuredly to offset how flustered she got.
"Mm hmm… Well, do keep yer eyes out. There've been rumours o' folk goin' missin' on them roads. I'd hate t' see ye go." The Kadal rested his elbows on the countertop, peering down at his patron.
She frowned up at him, taking her helmet from the stool next to her and putting it on. The half-helm gave her the appearance of someone slightly more self assured.
"Thanks for the unwavering faith. Knew I could always count on you to back me up." She grinned a challenge up at him.
He let out a soft single laugh before lifting himself back up. He pat her on the top of her helmet, causing it to slide down in front of her eyes.
"Not a squire anymore, eh? You're ready, I'm sure of it… just… Tal you sure you don't wanna take a lower stakes job? You're not splittin' bounties no more." He kept smiling but his eyes showed his concern and a small amount of guilt.
"I've always been a 'one big score' kinda gal, you know that." She fixed her helmet and winked at him.
With a defeated sigh he let her go with one last drink for the road. Shiv watched his friend walk out the door for the last time, already burdened with a preemptive sense of loss. The Bounty Hunter, equal parts eager and arrogant, set forth with all she owned on her back. Weapons jangled against cooking pots and pans with a bedroll set on top just above her own head. She was overloaded with everything she thought she needed, a fact that pointed out her inexperience like a bright beam into the sky to anyone with a few years of adventuring under their belt. Once outside of The Dale, Talia's demeanour shifted. The Dwarf's brows lowered and a scowl crept across her face. It would be some time before she even got close to where she needed to start looking but it didn't matter. From this moment on she was all business. Days passed of sleeping rough along the roadside and questioning passers by only to bear no fruit. Nothing but rumours and hearsay. However, there were just enough straws for her to grasp at to convince herself that she was on the right track.
On the sixth night, the white haired dwarf stared into a dying fire, grumbling softly to herself as she finished her burnt rations. She didn't mind the charred bits of the dried meat, it gave them a smokey flavour she enjoyed. Everything else was, conversely, terrible. She assured herself that she'd get better as time went on, taking the sink or swim approach to learning as she did with all things. This case being to cook or starve.
She took a moment to take stock of her supplies, having burned through a sizable chunk of what she'd brought with her. With any luck she would pass by a merchant on his way to the capital, cart overburdened with ripe fruit and fresh meat. With no luck she'd have to very rapidly learn to hunt as well as cook. Either way, she was certain she'd be fine. Adjusting her position as the quiet set in, she glanced at her piled chainmail with a frown. Nagging thoughts started clawing their way in from the darkness of the countryside around her. Her breath grew shallow as her eyes locked on every scratch, every dent, every scar each ring bore as she compared herself to it. It and its former wielder, her father, took blow after blow of hate and fury but held strong. It defended her from all harm. What blows could she withstand? What hate and fury could she hold fast against? Who could she defend? Without the rank and file of the Paladins, without her father, could she even stand?
The voices grew louder, the doubt crawling up her very being, threatening to consume her entire mind as her scarred right hand gently glided over the wounds on her Husband's shield. The marks of the two she couldn't save only added to the weight on her shoulders, something no amount of physical strength could even budge. The war paint on her face smeared as a single, bitter droplet of salt and water dragged its way down her cheek in a desperate plea for catharsis. Suddenly, she blinked. Once, then twice more. Her left hand moved a final bite of jerky to her mouth.
"Ya can't hide forever, Rezan..." She said plainly. "One day, you slimy bastard..."
The thoughts were set aside and the shield shoved to the grass beside her.
"... I think it's time I got a partner."
An all too familiar silence fell on the woman once again, her eyes returning to the fire. This time she made sure not to keep them in one place too long, lest her mind wander towards the creeping slug that loomed over her sanity. As the moons above dragged themselves along the sky, her eyes started to dim. She stood up, kicking some dirt onto the smouldering fire to extinguish it and allow her to get some much needed rest. As she went to lay down however, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something moved in the greyness of night. She sat up and jerked herself forward. Talia grabbed her helmet, setting it quickly on her head and grabbed for her weapons. She raised her axe and shield, mentally committing herself to sleeping in full armour for now on. She felt naked in her leather jerkin with her usual steel attire being so close at hand. Pulling her focus to the here and now, she attempted to focus her eyes in the gloom. A club lashed out from the darkness, clipping her side and throwing her into the all too familiar haze of combat. Three cloaked figures surrounded her, wearing darkened robes to hide them in the cover of night. She darted forward, refusing to be cornered on the side of a road. A slash across the leg followed up by a swift backhand from her shield took the first assailant off their feet.
"Hah! Lively for a keg belly, ain't she? You alright, over there?" One of them chuckled, patting his club as his eyes drifted over to his downed companion.
"Oh she'll do more than nicely." The other moved closer. "Rezan likes 'em catty."
"Suck a cock, you fucking cowards." She barked back, drawing another confident chuckle from the two.
"Such a foul mouth. If you were a few feet taller I'd be shaking in my boots. As it stands it's just sad."
She hurried forward, taking the initiative and swinging across at the chattier one. She narrowly missed his neck before twisting the haft of her axe around and reefing it back towards herself. The beard of the axe caught around his club and yanked it from the man's hands, flinging it off into the night. With triumph came a cost however as the other assailant grabbed her from behind, trying to restrain the woman and hold her still to be beaten. He only managed to lock her axe arm behind herself before she dropped her shield and grabbed his collar. With strength she prided herself on, she took the three attackers by surprise as she dragged the man over her shoulder. With a grunt of anger she threw the man onto the ground, his back impacting the dirt hard as she raised her axe to finish him off. She went to swing down only to take a punch to the jaw, making her stagger back. The first foe that she knocked off their feet moved around behind her, brandishing a small axe with a cruel intent. Talia gripped her axe in both hands and swung for her chatty unarmed attacker, catching the bastard along his arm and forcing him away.
"Got a strong arm on you, Miss, too bad it's not strong enough." A smirk grew beneath the cowl that hid his face.
With a sharp swing, a handaxe dug itself into the Dwarfs helm, splitting a jagged gash in steel down its centre. Lodged halfway up the handaxes blade, the loose fitting headwear lifted off the woman's head as the weapon was withdrawn. She dropped to one knee. Despite the adrenaline telling her all was fine, she quickly gripped the wounded area to assess the damage. It wasn't a deep hit, the helmet took the brunt of the blade but it still hurt like the hells themselves. Her eyes locked on the helm as it fell to the ground, peeled off the axe's blade.
"I'm gonna crush your fucking skull…" She growled, teeth bared in pain and anger.
"Oh yeah. Rezan'll like her." He chucked, nodding to his ambushing compatriot.
With a sudden thump, everything went dark. In the confines of her mind, she wondered if this was the end and, if so, did she want it to be? Was there comfort in the fight being over? Having nothing more to live up to. No vengeance to claw through fire and flame for. To finally just allow her mind to find release in the finality of her chapter coming to a close. There was an odd sense of peace in the void while she questioned all this. In the end, she choked it up to the good rest she was forced to have, if only to suppress that thought further after the fact.
Regardless of the Half-pints internal answer to that question, her eyes fluttered open to the same sky she was about to fall asleep under, separated from her by the steel bars of a cage, the grass beneath her kept away by a layer of metal that made her back sore. A campfire flickered nearby accompanied by the soft breath of an old guard dog. Her face softened as she stared upwards and was brought slowly back to reality, an unhappiness in her core tugging harder and harder on her spirit. Her eyes slowly wandered around as she sat up, the movement stinging the back of her head. There were other cages nearby. Filled cages. All free standing and waiting to be loaded into a massive carriage. The hulking figure next to her slowly turned its enormous mass towards her, leaning in a little closer curiously. Talia's eyes widened with realisation. She knew those tattoos.
"Kroll? Kroll, is that you?" She whispered, curling her fingers around the bars as she leaned in closer.
"Tal-ee-ah?" The Ogre cocked his head to the side. "Friend!" His hushed voice still boomed enough to make the bars of her cage quiver.
"Well… shit… 's been a while, eh?" She cracked a slight smile towards him, the pain in her mind, both physical and emotional, quieting.
"Friend…" She repeated his words, just liking the way it sounded. "Don't worry, Kroll, I'm not gonna let these shits keep us here. I promise."
She allowed her newfound resolve to guide her. In response, the Ogre pressed himself against the cage to reach out and pat her head. Wincing in pain as the tended wound was touched, she let out a soft hiss but didn't reject his affection. The cheap metal of the cages creaked against the giant's weight, his straining to reach the dwarf having tilted his cage somewhat. Talia widened her eyes as she tightened her own grip around the bars. She gritted her teeth as she pulled hard against them. After a brief test of strength, Talia nodded to herself, certain she could bend the old bars right out.
"Bend." Kroll nodded in agreement, mimicking her grip on the bars and smiling.
"You got it, big guy. We're bustin' out of these. Serves 'em right for cheaping out on the iron.. Just need to wait for them to be distracted, okay? Then we'll rush 'em!"
"Oi, wake up, fuckface! Night's still young!" Came a voice from across the campfire.
Both turned their gaze to see an Orc clutching his cage bars, spitting at one of the tired slavers.
"Shut it and go to sleep, Gorgoth. Before I put you to sleep." Came the slaver's response.
"You're welcome to try! I'm not gonna let you pricks have a single fucking wink of sleep!" The prisoner pounded his chest.
The slaver growled an annoyance as he picked up a nearby club and started moving to the man's cage. Looks like there was no time like the present.
She had read it a hundred times over and still her nerves were never calmed. The white haired Dwarf rolled up the bounty poster and stuffed it into her pack, the rustling of her chainmail making each movement sound similar to someone gently shaking a jar of coins.
"Headin' North then, Tal?" The gruff, scale faced man before her leaned in, watching her eyes.
"Hmm? Uh, right, y-yeah. Sorry, Shiv, just tryna… plan." She replied, nodding to him assuredly to offset how flustered she got.
"Mm hmm… Well, do keep yer eyes out. There've been rumours o' folk goin' missin' on them roads. I'd hate t' see ye go." The Kadal rested his elbows on the countertop, peering down at his patron.
She frowned up at him, taking her helmet from the stool next to her and putting it on. The half-helm gave her the appearance of someone slightly more self assured.
"Thanks for the unwavering faith. Knew I could always count on you to back me up." She grinned a challenge up at him.
He let out a soft single laugh before lifting himself back up. He pat her on the top of her helmet, causing it to slide down in front of her eyes.
"Not a squire anymore, eh? You're ready, I'm sure of it… just… Tal you sure you don't wanna take a lower stakes job? You're not splittin' bounties no more." He kept smiling but his eyes showed his concern and a small amount of guilt.
"I've always been a 'one big score' kinda gal, you know that." She fixed her helmet and winked at him.
With a defeated sigh he let her go with one last drink for the road. Shiv watched his friend walk out the door for the last time, already burdened with a preemptive sense of loss. The Bounty Hunter, equal parts eager and arrogant, set forth with all she owned on her back. Weapons jangled against cooking pots and pans with a bedroll set on top just above her own head. She was overloaded with everything she thought she needed, a fact that pointed out her inexperience like a bright beam into the sky to anyone with a few years of adventuring under their belt. Once outside of The Dale, Talia's demeanour shifted. The Dwarf's brows lowered and a scowl crept across her face. It would be some time before she even got close to where she needed to start looking but it didn't matter. From this moment on she was all business. Days passed of sleeping rough along the roadside and questioning passers by only to bear no fruit. Nothing but rumours and hearsay. However, there were just enough straws for her to grasp at to convince herself that she was on the right track.
On the sixth night, the white haired dwarf stared into a dying fire, grumbling softly to herself as she finished her burnt rations. She didn't mind the charred bits of the dried meat, it gave them a smokey flavour she enjoyed. Everything else was, conversely, terrible. She assured herself that she'd get better as time went on, taking the sink or swim approach to learning as she did with all things. This case being to cook or starve.
She took a moment to take stock of her supplies, having burned through a sizable chunk of what she'd brought with her. With any luck she would pass by a merchant on his way to the capital, cart overburdened with ripe fruit and fresh meat. With no luck she'd have to very rapidly learn to hunt as well as cook. Either way, she was certain she'd be fine. Adjusting her position as the quiet set in, she glanced at her piled chainmail with a frown. Nagging thoughts started clawing their way in from the darkness of the countryside around her. Her breath grew shallow as her eyes locked on every scratch, every dent, every scar each ring bore as she compared herself to it. It and its former wielder, her father, took blow after blow of hate and fury but held strong. It defended her from all harm. What blows could she withstand? What hate and fury could she hold fast against? Who could she defend? Without the rank and file of the Paladins, without her father, could she even stand?
The voices grew louder, the doubt crawling up her very being, threatening to consume her entire mind as her scarred right hand gently glided over the wounds on her Husband's shield. The marks of the two she couldn't save only added to the weight on her shoulders, something no amount of physical strength could even budge. The war paint on her face smeared as a single, bitter droplet of salt and water dragged its way down her cheek in a desperate plea for catharsis. Suddenly, she blinked. Once, then twice more. Her left hand moved a final bite of jerky to her mouth.
"Ya can't hide forever, Rezan..." She said plainly. "One day, you slimy bastard..."
The thoughts were set aside and the shield shoved to the grass beside her.
"... I think it's time I got a partner."
An all too familiar silence fell on the woman once again, her eyes returning to the fire. This time she made sure not to keep them in one place too long, lest her mind wander towards the creeping slug that loomed over her sanity. As the moons above dragged themselves along the sky, her eyes started to dim. She stood up, kicking some dirt onto the smouldering fire to extinguish it and allow her to get some much needed rest. As she went to lay down however, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Something moved in the greyness of night. She sat up and jerked herself forward. Talia grabbed her helmet, setting it quickly on her head and grabbed for her weapons. She raised her axe and shield, mentally committing herself to sleeping in full armour for now on. She felt naked in her leather jerkin with her usual steel attire being so close at hand. Pulling her focus to the here and now, she attempted to focus her eyes in the gloom. A club lashed out from the darkness, clipping her side and throwing her into the all too familiar haze of combat. Three cloaked figures surrounded her, wearing darkened robes to hide them in the cover of night. She darted forward, refusing to be cornered on the side of a road. A slash across the leg followed up by a swift backhand from her shield took the first assailant off their feet.
"Hah! Lively for a keg belly, ain't she? You alright, over there?" One of them chuckled, patting his club as his eyes drifted over to his downed companion.
"Oh she'll do more than nicely." The other moved closer. "Rezan likes 'em catty."
"Suck a cock, you fucking cowards." She barked back, drawing another confident chuckle from the two.
"Such a foul mouth. If you were a few feet taller I'd be shaking in my boots. As it stands it's just sad."
She hurried forward, taking the initiative and swinging across at the chattier one. She narrowly missed his neck before twisting the haft of her axe around and reefing it back towards herself. The beard of the axe caught around his club and yanked it from the man's hands, flinging it off into the night. With triumph came a cost however as the other assailant grabbed her from behind, trying to restrain the woman and hold her still to be beaten. He only managed to lock her axe arm behind herself before she dropped her shield and grabbed his collar. With strength she prided herself on, she took the three attackers by surprise as she dragged the man over her shoulder. With a grunt of anger she threw the man onto the ground, his back impacting the dirt hard as she raised her axe to finish him off. She went to swing down only to take a punch to the jaw, making her stagger back. The first foe that she knocked off their feet moved around behind her, brandishing a small axe with a cruel intent. Talia gripped her axe in both hands and swung for her chatty unarmed attacker, catching the bastard along his arm and forcing him away.
"Got a strong arm on you, Miss, too bad it's not strong enough." A smirk grew beneath the cowl that hid his face.
With a sharp swing, a handaxe dug itself into the Dwarfs helm, splitting a jagged gash in steel down its centre. Lodged halfway up the handaxes blade, the loose fitting headwear lifted off the woman's head as the weapon was withdrawn. She dropped to one knee. Despite the adrenaline telling her all was fine, she quickly gripped the wounded area to assess the damage. It wasn't a deep hit, the helmet took the brunt of the blade but it still hurt like the hells themselves. Her eyes locked on the helm as it fell to the ground, peeled off the axe's blade.
"I'm gonna crush your fucking skull…" She growled, teeth bared in pain and anger.
"Oh yeah. Rezan'll like her." He chucked, nodding to his ambushing compatriot.
With a sudden thump, everything went dark. In the confines of her mind, she wondered if this was the end and, if so, did she want it to be? Was there comfort in the fight being over? Having nothing more to live up to. No vengeance to claw through fire and flame for. To finally just allow her mind to find release in the finality of her chapter coming to a close. There was an odd sense of peace in the void while she questioned all this. In the end, she choked it up to the good rest she was forced to have, if only to suppress that thought further after the fact.
Regardless of the Half-pints internal answer to that question, her eyes fluttered open to the same sky she was about to fall asleep under, separated from her by the steel bars of a cage, the grass beneath her kept away by a layer of metal that made her back sore. A campfire flickered nearby accompanied by the soft breath of an old guard dog. Her face softened as she stared upwards and was brought slowly back to reality, an unhappiness in her core tugging harder and harder on her spirit. Her eyes slowly wandered around as she sat up, the movement stinging the back of her head. There were other cages nearby. Filled cages. All free standing and waiting to be loaded into a massive carriage. The hulking figure next to her slowly turned its enormous mass towards her, leaning in a little closer curiously. Talia's eyes widened with realisation. She knew those tattoos.
"Kroll? Kroll, is that you?" She whispered, curling her fingers around the bars as she leaned in closer.
"Tal-ee-ah?" The Ogre cocked his head to the side. "Friend!" His hushed voice still boomed enough to make the bars of her cage quiver.
"Well… shit… 's been a while, eh?" She cracked a slight smile towards him, the pain in her mind, both physical and emotional, quieting.
"Friend…" She repeated his words, just liking the way it sounded. "Don't worry, Kroll, I'm not gonna let these shits keep us here. I promise."
She allowed her newfound resolve to guide her. In response, the Ogre pressed himself against the cage to reach out and pat her head. Wincing in pain as the tended wound was touched, she let out a soft hiss but didn't reject his affection. The cheap metal of the cages creaked against the giant's weight, his straining to reach the dwarf having tilted his cage somewhat. Talia widened her eyes as she tightened her own grip around the bars. She gritted her teeth as she pulled hard against them. After a brief test of strength, Talia nodded to herself, certain she could bend the old bars right out.
"Bend." Kroll nodded in agreement, mimicking her grip on the bars and smiling.
"You got it, big guy. We're bustin' out of these. Serves 'em right for cheaping out on the iron.. Just need to wait for them to be distracted, okay? Then we'll rush 'em!"
"Oi, wake up, fuckface! Night's still young!" Came a voice from across the campfire.
Both turned their gaze to see an Orc clutching his cage bars, spitting at one of the tired slavers.
"Shut it and go to sleep, Gorgoth. Before I put you to sleep." Came the slaver's response.
"You're welcome to try! I'm not gonna let you pricks have a single fucking wink of sleep!" The prisoner pounded his chest.
The slaver growled an annoyance as he picked up a nearby club and started moving to the man's cage. Looks like there was no time like the present.
Part 2: The Half Folk
The white haired Dwarf looked across the tavern at her exhausted companion, the Juren rocking back and forth in his chair. His intimidating, massive form offset by the gentle smile that rested eternally upon his lips even now as he slept. Even after surviving such a brutal ordeal, peace found him naturally and she envied him for it. She shifted her gaze to another, who was busy sponging and scraping aware the gore dried onto his blade. The injuries they had both sustained in that cursed ruin kept them bound to the city until they were fit to fight again. The days of inaction grated on her, her knuckles grew white as she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. She was stuck uselessly in the guildhall like she was still a squire in training. The sudden touch of a hand on her shoulder snapped her attention back to the space around her. She turned her head to stare down a tall, pointed-eared man standing beside her. He stared back down at the woman less than half his size. Quickly, she shrugged the man's hand off of her and took a step back.
"Other side of the bar." She said sternly.
The pale-skinned Elf similarly took a step away, caught off guard. It wasn't the introduction he had expected but he shook it off and complied with her demand. With a few short clips, he removed his prosthetic arm from its socket and set it on the counter as he walked around. An arcane contraption of copper and gears that went limp once disconnected. With a soft grunt, he sat on a stool in front of her.
"You alright, Shieldmaiden? Or is it Talia now that you're off duty?" He cocked his head to the side, watching her inquisitively.
"Commander to you." Talia said firmly.
Cyrak rolled his shoulder and leaned back a bit.
"Heh. Fully out of retirement I see. Alright… well I'm-"
"I know who you are, Cyrak…" Talia cut him off abruptly, placing her hand on his and gripping tight in a sudden motion. The force of her grab nearly crushed his fingers. With her free, wounded arm, she placed a rolled up parchment on the counter. It was old and worn, but he could recognise it as plain as day; an aged bounty poster.
"And I know who you really are, Kiir'Athelithis Cursed Sea..." Talia hissed.
Her gold eyes matched his, burning with a fire of disgust. "... and what you did. What you do." She straightened herself up, placing herself above the Elf for a brief moment.
"Khemze seems to trust you, the fucking moron, and since Vy trained him that held enough merit for me to not immediately drag your sorry hide to the guards after our rescue."
She leaned in once more, whispering a threat. "But I'm watching you, pirate."
The man's expression wavered for a moment before lowering his gaze.
"I was different then…" He muttered.
"Were you? You still look like the monster I was tracking fifteen years ago. The only thing different is there's less of you to hand in." Talia snapped back quickly.
Cyrak's eyes widened for a moment before settling as it finally dawned on him. A tiredness overcame his expression as the weight of the past caught up to him.
"I thought I recognised the name Cadash… You and your Husband…Heh. Small world." Cyrak closed his eyes and let out a dry chuckle. "Why just watch me? Hand me in." He reopened his eyes, locking them with hers.
The dwarf took a step back, shocked. She narrowed her eyes at him with suspicion.
"What're you playing at, Elf?"
He let out a soft single chuckle in response.
"Really, Commander? I'm trying to do the right thing… for once. If you want me gone, get rid of me. The Chainbreakers, whether you realise it or not, are the highest authority in town, even more so now that you and the others have returned from your year long… absence. Arrest me. Drag me to the guards. Put me on some death wish of a contract. You've got the authority to send me anywhere you so desire." He narrowed his eyes at her, speaking in Dwarvish to dissuade any prying ears like it was his first language.
"You've lost your mind." She muttered, disgust marring her face.
Everything about the conversation confused her. The Dread Pirate Cursed Sea standing before her, a quarry that she, her husband and her Father all failed to capture, offering his head on a silver plate. It had to be a trick, something to distract her now that he had been discovered so he could slip away like the slimy eel he was.
"I'm a dead man walking. Have been for a long time. The others… they're trying to fix me and it's hurting them. Worse than I can let happen. If I leave, they'll follow. I'm done hurtin' folk I care about… so send me to a place they won't go." He stood and leaned forward on the bar, eyes moving to the prosthetic.
A functional limb crafted out of love by those he had come to fight with the past year. A labour of respect and admiration that he could not even conceive of being worthy of. For every second he held it the guilt that knotted up his insides tightened.
"Cursed Sea, you think I'll fall for something so-"
"Don't call me that. You leave me titles at the bottom of the ocean where they belong." The former-pirate snapped.
The two stared the other down. The Dwarf moved out from behind the bar and squared up to the Elf, refusing to accept his pathetic excuse of an outburst. Each watched the other for a long while, waiting for one of them to say something to escalate things. A bubble of tension formed around them, hanging in the air like cigar smoke as time crawled onwards.
"You want to die, do it yourself. I won't help you escape the guilt that you deserve to stew in. The guards will-" Talia huffed like a bull waiting to charge.
"If I did, they'd blame themselves." He interrupted. "Why not put me down? You know how long my kind lives. Any time in prison will be a blip in my lifespan. If you're fine with taking the blame, send me out to meet my end. Go with me to ensure I fall. Or just take me to the Wilds and do it yourself after we fight something." Cyrak folded his lone arm, seeming more assured the further he went on.
The Shieldmaidens' rage faltered, finding it harder and harder to convince herself that the Elf was playing her. She shuffled her feet with uncertainty as she processed his words, finding a new anchor to direct her anger. His intent. To redeem himself for his heinous deeds through a noble death. A perversion of everything the Chainbreakers stood for. Of everything she stood for.
"So you came to the Chainbreakers to kill yourself? To force a heroic death so folk have to remember you fondly? Or is this some sick final act of defiance? To make me a monster to my own family for putting you to the sword?" She glared.
Cyrak sighed in response, kneeling down to get eye to eye with the Dwarf.
"Remembered fondly? No, lass. I want to be forgotten. I want my name buried and lost to the tides where it belongs." He kept his eyes on her, a bright gold burning into her own as he forced her to hear every word. "You know who should be remembered? Orobas. He was cut down four months ago by a Manticore. He liked to read. Loved hearing the sound of morning birds… he was a good man. Harrison. When the city was attacked eight months ago, he was the first one up and out the door with a blade in his hand. He was the fucking groundskeeper, Commander. Not a single bastard at the battle memorial even whispered his name. While you and yours were trapped in those ruins, people far better than myself have been dropping like flies and I can't take it anymore!" Cyrak's words dripped with bitter hatred. Hatred of his own survival.
"I can't… dig any more graves. I can't be the only one to remember."
She went to respond, to cast out his words as lies but he acted first. Cyrak threw his head towards a door behind him that led out to the guildhalls garden. She watched him carefully before conceding, edging out from behind the bar to follow behind. The two walked in tense silence to greet the temperate Levalian air, an overcast sky hanging above to rob the world of some of its colour. Coming to a halt before a large stone that Talia did not recognise, Cyrak gestured to the engravings across it. Names. Twenty or more at least, along with carvings of various Gods and Holy symbols and a lengthy epitaph.
"Tedaith and I built that. Alone. Read it, Commander." Cyrak spat his words in anger as Talia did just that.
"You were worth a thousand words spoken. A thousand songs sung. A thousand gold spent. You were a bright light in a storm of darkness. A beacon of truth, hope and justice. You stood against those that would bring pain to the world. And we failed you."
She wandered close as she held out her hand, the scar burned into her palm pressing against its corresponding holy symbol on the stone while she read. The symbol of Graeson, the God of Order.
"Over the last year, Tedaith and I recovered every body, every fallen we could, guild member or not, and buried them. Alone. Those who I couldn't recover I made markers for. Alone. They deserved to be remembered. Not me. And with you back, Shieldmaiden… with you and the Platinum Guardian and all of you 'legendary warriors' with your fancy titles back to lead us... I suspect that we no longer have need of a guild gravedigger. Learn every one of those names and forget mine." He stared into her eyes as Talia returned to him, watching his every move carefully.
"... What do you want, Pirate?" She set her hands on her hips, her expression softening.
"A chance, Bounty Hunter. One I don't deserve." Cyrak responded with pleading eyes. "Are you done with Titles, lass? Cyrak and Talia are talking, not Kiir' Cursed Sea and Paladin Squire Cadash. Please…"
At his words, Talia seemed to sink, taking a moment to think as she looked to the ground. He knew it was a long shot, but Cyrak had faith in the stories of the Shieldmaiden. The fact she hadn't just dragged him out by his throat already gave him hope that she would listen. After a few seconds of painful silence she held out her hand to him.
"Eggshells."
"Pardon?"
"You are to walk on eggshells until I decide you've changed. One slip up. One sliver of doubt that you're using my guild, my family, and I will show you exactly what I have the authority to do."
Cyrak cracked a smile and took her hand, shaking it.
"I'll gather the hens..."
"Other side of the bar." She said sternly.
The pale-skinned Elf similarly took a step away, caught off guard. It wasn't the introduction he had expected but he shook it off and complied with her demand. With a few short clips, he removed his prosthetic arm from its socket and set it on the counter as he walked around. An arcane contraption of copper and gears that went limp once disconnected. With a soft grunt, he sat on a stool in front of her.
"You alright, Shieldmaiden? Or is it Talia now that you're off duty?" He cocked his head to the side, watching her inquisitively.
"Commander to you." Talia said firmly.
Cyrak rolled his shoulder and leaned back a bit.
"Heh. Fully out of retirement I see. Alright… well I'm-"
"I know who you are, Cyrak…" Talia cut him off abruptly, placing her hand on his and gripping tight in a sudden motion. The force of her grab nearly crushed his fingers. With her free, wounded arm, she placed a rolled up parchment on the counter. It was old and worn, but he could recognise it as plain as day; an aged bounty poster.
"And I know who you really are, Kiir'Athelithis Cursed Sea..." Talia hissed.
Her gold eyes matched his, burning with a fire of disgust. "... and what you did. What you do." She straightened herself up, placing herself above the Elf for a brief moment.
"Khemze seems to trust you, the fucking moron, and since Vy trained him that held enough merit for me to not immediately drag your sorry hide to the guards after our rescue."
She leaned in once more, whispering a threat. "But I'm watching you, pirate."
The man's expression wavered for a moment before lowering his gaze.
"I was different then…" He muttered.
"Were you? You still look like the monster I was tracking fifteen years ago. The only thing different is there's less of you to hand in." Talia snapped back quickly.
Cyrak's eyes widened for a moment before settling as it finally dawned on him. A tiredness overcame his expression as the weight of the past caught up to him.
"I thought I recognised the name Cadash… You and your Husband…Heh. Small world." Cyrak closed his eyes and let out a dry chuckle. "Why just watch me? Hand me in." He reopened his eyes, locking them with hers.
The dwarf took a step back, shocked. She narrowed her eyes at him with suspicion.
"What're you playing at, Elf?"
He let out a soft single chuckle in response.
"Really, Commander? I'm trying to do the right thing… for once. If you want me gone, get rid of me. The Chainbreakers, whether you realise it or not, are the highest authority in town, even more so now that you and the others have returned from your year long… absence. Arrest me. Drag me to the guards. Put me on some death wish of a contract. You've got the authority to send me anywhere you so desire." He narrowed his eyes at her, speaking in Dwarvish to dissuade any prying ears like it was his first language.
"You've lost your mind." She muttered, disgust marring her face.
Everything about the conversation confused her. The Dread Pirate Cursed Sea standing before her, a quarry that she, her husband and her Father all failed to capture, offering his head on a silver plate. It had to be a trick, something to distract her now that he had been discovered so he could slip away like the slimy eel he was.
"I'm a dead man walking. Have been for a long time. The others… they're trying to fix me and it's hurting them. Worse than I can let happen. If I leave, they'll follow. I'm done hurtin' folk I care about… so send me to a place they won't go." He stood and leaned forward on the bar, eyes moving to the prosthetic.
A functional limb crafted out of love by those he had come to fight with the past year. A labour of respect and admiration that he could not even conceive of being worthy of. For every second he held it the guilt that knotted up his insides tightened.
"Cursed Sea, you think I'll fall for something so-"
"Don't call me that. You leave me titles at the bottom of the ocean where they belong." The former-pirate snapped.
The two stared the other down. The Dwarf moved out from behind the bar and squared up to the Elf, refusing to accept his pathetic excuse of an outburst. Each watched the other for a long while, waiting for one of them to say something to escalate things. A bubble of tension formed around them, hanging in the air like cigar smoke as time crawled onwards.
"You want to die, do it yourself. I won't help you escape the guilt that you deserve to stew in. The guards will-" Talia huffed like a bull waiting to charge.
"If I did, they'd blame themselves." He interrupted. "Why not put me down? You know how long my kind lives. Any time in prison will be a blip in my lifespan. If you're fine with taking the blame, send me out to meet my end. Go with me to ensure I fall. Or just take me to the Wilds and do it yourself after we fight something." Cyrak folded his lone arm, seeming more assured the further he went on.
The Shieldmaidens' rage faltered, finding it harder and harder to convince herself that the Elf was playing her. She shuffled her feet with uncertainty as she processed his words, finding a new anchor to direct her anger. His intent. To redeem himself for his heinous deeds through a noble death. A perversion of everything the Chainbreakers stood for. Of everything she stood for.
"So you came to the Chainbreakers to kill yourself? To force a heroic death so folk have to remember you fondly? Or is this some sick final act of defiance? To make me a monster to my own family for putting you to the sword?" She glared.
Cyrak sighed in response, kneeling down to get eye to eye with the Dwarf.
"Remembered fondly? No, lass. I want to be forgotten. I want my name buried and lost to the tides where it belongs." He kept his eyes on her, a bright gold burning into her own as he forced her to hear every word. "You know who should be remembered? Orobas. He was cut down four months ago by a Manticore. He liked to read. Loved hearing the sound of morning birds… he was a good man. Harrison. When the city was attacked eight months ago, he was the first one up and out the door with a blade in his hand. He was the fucking groundskeeper, Commander. Not a single bastard at the battle memorial even whispered his name. While you and yours were trapped in those ruins, people far better than myself have been dropping like flies and I can't take it anymore!" Cyrak's words dripped with bitter hatred. Hatred of his own survival.
"I can't… dig any more graves. I can't be the only one to remember."
She went to respond, to cast out his words as lies but he acted first. Cyrak threw his head towards a door behind him that led out to the guildhalls garden. She watched him carefully before conceding, edging out from behind the bar to follow behind. The two walked in tense silence to greet the temperate Levalian air, an overcast sky hanging above to rob the world of some of its colour. Coming to a halt before a large stone that Talia did not recognise, Cyrak gestured to the engravings across it. Names. Twenty or more at least, along with carvings of various Gods and Holy symbols and a lengthy epitaph.
"Tedaith and I built that. Alone. Read it, Commander." Cyrak spat his words in anger as Talia did just that.
"You were worth a thousand words spoken. A thousand songs sung. A thousand gold spent. You were a bright light in a storm of darkness. A beacon of truth, hope and justice. You stood against those that would bring pain to the world. And we failed you."
She wandered close as she held out her hand, the scar burned into her palm pressing against its corresponding holy symbol on the stone while she read. The symbol of Graeson, the God of Order.
"Over the last year, Tedaith and I recovered every body, every fallen we could, guild member or not, and buried them. Alone. Those who I couldn't recover I made markers for. Alone. They deserved to be remembered. Not me. And with you back, Shieldmaiden… with you and the Platinum Guardian and all of you 'legendary warriors' with your fancy titles back to lead us... I suspect that we no longer have need of a guild gravedigger. Learn every one of those names and forget mine." He stared into her eyes as Talia returned to him, watching his every move carefully.
"... What do you want, Pirate?" She set her hands on her hips, her expression softening.
"A chance, Bounty Hunter. One I don't deserve." Cyrak responded with pleading eyes. "Are you done with Titles, lass? Cyrak and Talia are talking, not Kiir' Cursed Sea and Paladin Squire Cadash. Please…"
At his words, Talia seemed to sink, taking a moment to think as she looked to the ground. He knew it was a long shot, but Cyrak had faith in the stories of the Shieldmaiden. The fact she hadn't just dragged him out by his throat already gave him hope that she would listen. After a few seconds of painful silence she held out her hand to him.
"Eggshells."
"Pardon?"
"You are to walk on eggshells until I decide you've changed. One slip up. One sliver of doubt that you're using my guild, my family, and I will show you exactly what I have the authority to do."
Cyrak cracked a smile and took her hand, shaking it.
"I'll gather the hens..."
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Part 3: Blind Justice
A gauntleted knuckle tapped against the hard wood of a doorframe. The One-Armed Elf within the Chainbreaker barracks lifted his head from his journal, casting a curious glance to his visitor. His expression shifted from interest to a wary gaze as the woman before him glared back. Letting out a long exhale, he looked to his side at the sleeping feline in the hammock he sat on. He snapped the book shut and set it on the floor, the sudden noise making the cat's head jerk up. The Elf gave his familiar an apologetic look before finally breaking the silence. The tattoos that formed a tapestry on his lone arm started glowing a cool blue, illuminating the area around him in its soft hue.
"Growls." The Pale Elf had an underlying worry to his words. "Give us a minute, yeah?"
Growley looked at her master with suspicion. She hopped off the hammock and shifted her eyes to the visitor, standing just barely illuminated by the glow. The Dwarfs stern look never left the Elf. The Cat sat in place, rooting herself like a stump as she faced her protector, as if demanding answers.
"Just need some privacy, alright? Please." Despite his regular smug pride, the man was begging and made little effort to hide it.
With an unsure nod, the cat retreated from the alcove, heading for the tavern at the front of the guildhall. The Elf shrank once he was alone with his visitor, shoulders falling forward and head hanging low as the glow of his tattoos died out. The Dwarf in the doorway remained still, her arms folded while watching her targets every move. They both waited, each expecting the other to make the first move, both tempted to reach for their weapons to end it quickly. After what seemed like an eternity, the Elf spoke first.
"Ye here to kill me, boss?" He lifted his head to face her, only half joking.
With as little movement as possible, the Dwarf revealed a scroll clutched in her hand and tossed it into his lap.
"Should I be?" She replied coldly.
She pushed her shoulder against the wall to straighten herself up. Her hands fell to her sides, hovering above the pommel of her axe, and the chain of her hook that hung from her hip. Cyrak grabbed the scroll, reading through its contents with a look of confusion. As he did, dread overtook his expression as the words stabbed blades of panic through his chest. It was a hastily written warning that detailed Cyraks supposed involvement in the recent assassination attempt of one of the other Chainbreakers; an Ogre named Kroll. An attack that left the man in critical condition to this day. The pirate stood up, slower than he'd ever moved in his life. He raised his hands carefully and kept his voice low.
"Talia… Commander. This… You gotta see a set up when it's right in front of you." Cyrak said softly, watching her every move.
"I can't believe it. I can't believe I almost trusted you." Talia scoffed bitterly at her own foolishness. "But I'm being too hard on myself. You managed to lie past Khemze and join us after all. If you can fool a spymaster, how could you not fool an old Shield."
"It ain't Khemze's fault I'm here. Me and Sera go way back. She vouched for me. Listen, I've got nothin' to hide. I'll even disarm meself." He reached to his belt, unbuckling a sheathe and letting his rapier fall to the floor with a clatter.
"Funny, she never talked about you." The Dwarf cocked her head to the side, unimpressed.
"Wouldn't expect 'er to. It was aboard 'er fathers ship."
"Of course, a vile man would have an equally vile crew." The Dwarves' eyes narrowed in the dim light.
"Hey, she wouldn't have got out of there if it weren't for me. Gods above, don't I get a trial here, boss?" The Elf took a step closer.
"Stop calling me that!" She swung her fist to the side, the gauntlet cracking against the wood, chipping some of it off and leaving splinters sticking out around the impact. "I am not your boss and you are not part of the family I built!"
The pale Elf raised his hands further, holding his ground as the armoured warrior took a challenging step into the room and closed the distance between the two.
"You're right… I'm not part of your family, I suppose… but I am part of a family. One I built out here. A family I changed for… a family that changed me. I'm a different man now, Cadash… I know you know what that's like. Why would I throw that away and attack Kroll? I love the guy." The Elf gently reached out his forged hand to place it on her shoulder.
"Don't act like you fucking know me." The Dwarf grabbed the prosthetic hand, twisting it to the side and forcing the Elf to bend his legs. "You think I'll fall for that again? That you can just pull the 'I've changed' card and that makes everything okay? Should I care that you have a family now? You sure as fuck don't care about mine!"
"Talia, I didn't-! Ach, don't! You'll damage the arm!" The Elf begged, moving his body as best he could to ease the stress on the intricacies of his forged limb.
"Don't use my name! You don't get to use my fucking name you bastard!" With a simple flex of her strength, the dwarf threw the elf into the ground, the impact cutting along and weakening the leather straps that held the limb to his body.
The Elf tried to get himself up onto his knees, the artificial limb still in the clutches of the Dwarf. When he did finally rise up to face her, he was thrown right back down with a left hook to the eye, the impact almost immediately leaving a nasty bruise.
"I warned you. I warned you what would happen if you slipped up and you still fucking tried your luck. I wonder how little you were paid to do it. Clearly you didn't think I was serious. Well, I'm about to keep my word, you pirate scum." The Dwarf spat with cruelty in her voice.
The Elf lifted his head from the ground, blinking a few times as the words sank in.
"Commander… Just… stop! No one…" He rubbed the growing bruise with his free hand, trying to reorient himself. "No one paid me. I understand your suspicion of me… I know what I did. Who I was. But this? Even a blind man could see this is a set up! I was in Oswill when Kroll got attacked!"
The Dwarf's face twisted with anger at his words, only hearing what she wanted to at this point.
"Blind? I'll show you blind, Cursed Sea. I know exactly where you were. And I know you went there alone. No witnesses to your departure or return. Nothing but your word. And I've had enough fucking words from you!" She pushed him back into the stone with a steel covered boot, nearly crushing his chest without even trying.
"Tal-…" He pleaded, grabbing at her boot to try and pry it off him with his free hand.
"What did I say about calling me that!?" With another twist and a pull, strained contraption gave way.
The forged arm struck the floor, dropped from the Dwarfs hand after she ripped it straight out of the Elf's sleeve with broken pieces spilled about like a spray of blood. The arcane prosthetic immediately went limp once away from him, dead on the cold stone. The man watched it with horror but the Dwarfs' violent gaze still fixated on him. Another silence fell upon the two as prey and predator stared each other down, Talia slowly drawing her axe as Cyrak pleaded with horrified eyes.
"Talia!" A distant call boomed through the open door, accompanied by thundering running footfalls.
The Dwarf bared her teeth, ignoring the interruption as she raised the axe. Cyrak winced in anticipation for the end, all of his attempts to clear his name having fallen on deaf ears. Before the blade could swing, however, two forms slid to a stop in the doorway in a hurried panic. One was the silhouette of a large Orc, eyes wide and moving urgently, the other was an equally distressed feline, desperate to protect her carer.
"Talia!" The Orc shouted in an attempt to halt the Elf's execution, charging towards her.
"What!?" She snapped, yanked from her rage-filled bloodlust. "Gorgoth?"
Her expression softened as she saw her closest friend wearing the same expression as her quarry. Gorgoth darted forwards and grabbed her axe-wielding hand to prevent her from acting further.
"It was fake! The letter was fake!" He blurted out as he locked his wide eyes with hers. "Khemze's scrying worked. He saw Kroll's memories. It was the Azure Fang!"
Talia's breath grew shallow as the axe slacked in her grip, sliding down until the top of her fist slid beneath its beard. She stared up into the Orc's eyes, the way he was looking at her crushing her spirit in an instant. Her rage and righteous fury melted away like ice in a desert, replaced with a powerful and unrelenting guilt.
"What on Tyr are you doing, Tal? We agreed we were going to investigate the letter first!" The Orc scolded in a concerned whisper.
Breaking eye contact with Gorgoth, Talia looked down to the Elf that lay under her boot. With horror at her own actions plastered across her face, she took a staggered step back and lifted her foot from Cyraks chest. Moving her gaze from one man to the other, she found no words to defend herself. Talia fled, bolting out the door in an urgent stride. Her thundering metal-coated steps clunked against the stone floor. Gorgoth sent a glance down to Cyrak, making an attempt to say something as his knee-jerk reaction compelled him to defend Talia. When no words came, the Platinum Guardian turned away from the Elf and hurried after the Dwarf. Once alone, Cyrak pushed himself up onto his elbow, turning his attention to Growley. The cat, having sensed the tension behind the Dwarf's arrival, lay down next to the Elf. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, winded from frantically searching for a high ranking member of the Chainbreakers to protect her master. Slowly laying back down on the cold stone, Cyrak put his arm around the tired cat and softly scratched at the top of her head.
"Good girl, Growls…" He said softly.
"Growls." The Pale Elf had an underlying worry to his words. "Give us a minute, yeah?"
Growley looked at her master with suspicion. She hopped off the hammock and shifted her eyes to the visitor, standing just barely illuminated by the glow. The Dwarfs stern look never left the Elf. The Cat sat in place, rooting herself like a stump as she faced her protector, as if demanding answers.
"Just need some privacy, alright? Please." Despite his regular smug pride, the man was begging and made little effort to hide it.
With an unsure nod, the cat retreated from the alcove, heading for the tavern at the front of the guildhall. The Elf shrank once he was alone with his visitor, shoulders falling forward and head hanging low as the glow of his tattoos died out. The Dwarf in the doorway remained still, her arms folded while watching her targets every move. They both waited, each expecting the other to make the first move, both tempted to reach for their weapons to end it quickly. After what seemed like an eternity, the Elf spoke first.
"Ye here to kill me, boss?" He lifted his head to face her, only half joking.
With as little movement as possible, the Dwarf revealed a scroll clutched in her hand and tossed it into his lap.
"Should I be?" She replied coldly.
She pushed her shoulder against the wall to straighten herself up. Her hands fell to her sides, hovering above the pommel of her axe, and the chain of her hook that hung from her hip. Cyrak grabbed the scroll, reading through its contents with a look of confusion. As he did, dread overtook his expression as the words stabbed blades of panic through his chest. It was a hastily written warning that detailed Cyraks supposed involvement in the recent assassination attempt of one of the other Chainbreakers; an Ogre named Kroll. An attack that left the man in critical condition to this day. The pirate stood up, slower than he'd ever moved in his life. He raised his hands carefully and kept his voice low.
"Talia… Commander. This… You gotta see a set up when it's right in front of you." Cyrak said softly, watching her every move.
"I can't believe it. I can't believe I almost trusted you." Talia scoffed bitterly at her own foolishness. "But I'm being too hard on myself. You managed to lie past Khemze and join us after all. If you can fool a spymaster, how could you not fool an old Shield."
"It ain't Khemze's fault I'm here. Me and Sera go way back. She vouched for me. Listen, I've got nothin' to hide. I'll even disarm meself." He reached to his belt, unbuckling a sheathe and letting his rapier fall to the floor with a clatter.
"Funny, she never talked about you." The Dwarf cocked her head to the side, unimpressed.
"Wouldn't expect 'er to. It was aboard 'er fathers ship."
"Of course, a vile man would have an equally vile crew." The Dwarves' eyes narrowed in the dim light.
"Hey, she wouldn't have got out of there if it weren't for me. Gods above, don't I get a trial here, boss?" The Elf took a step closer.
"Stop calling me that!" She swung her fist to the side, the gauntlet cracking against the wood, chipping some of it off and leaving splinters sticking out around the impact. "I am not your boss and you are not part of the family I built!"
The pale Elf raised his hands further, holding his ground as the armoured warrior took a challenging step into the room and closed the distance between the two.
"You're right… I'm not part of your family, I suppose… but I am part of a family. One I built out here. A family I changed for… a family that changed me. I'm a different man now, Cadash… I know you know what that's like. Why would I throw that away and attack Kroll? I love the guy." The Elf gently reached out his forged hand to place it on her shoulder.
"Don't act like you fucking know me." The Dwarf grabbed the prosthetic hand, twisting it to the side and forcing the Elf to bend his legs. "You think I'll fall for that again? That you can just pull the 'I've changed' card and that makes everything okay? Should I care that you have a family now? You sure as fuck don't care about mine!"
"Talia, I didn't-! Ach, don't! You'll damage the arm!" The Elf begged, moving his body as best he could to ease the stress on the intricacies of his forged limb.
"Don't use my name! You don't get to use my fucking name you bastard!" With a simple flex of her strength, the dwarf threw the elf into the ground, the impact cutting along and weakening the leather straps that held the limb to his body.
The Elf tried to get himself up onto his knees, the artificial limb still in the clutches of the Dwarf. When he did finally rise up to face her, he was thrown right back down with a left hook to the eye, the impact almost immediately leaving a nasty bruise.
"I warned you. I warned you what would happen if you slipped up and you still fucking tried your luck. I wonder how little you were paid to do it. Clearly you didn't think I was serious. Well, I'm about to keep my word, you pirate scum." The Dwarf spat with cruelty in her voice.
The Elf lifted his head from the ground, blinking a few times as the words sank in.
"Commander… Just… stop! No one…" He rubbed the growing bruise with his free hand, trying to reorient himself. "No one paid me. I understand your suspicion of me… I know what I did. Who I was. But this? Even a blind man could see this is a set up! I was in Oswill when Kroll got attacked!"
The Dwarf's face twisted with anger at his words, only hearing what she wanted to at this point.
"Blind? I'll show you blind, Cursed Sea. I know exactly where you were. And I know you went there alone. No witnesses to your departure or return. Nothing but your word. And I've had enough fucking words from you!" She pushed him back into the stone with a steel covered boot, nearly crushing his chest without even trying.
"Tal-…" He pleaded, grabbing at her boot to try and pry it off him with his free hand.
"What did I say about calling me that!?" With another twist and a pull, strained contraption gave way.
The forged arm struck the floor, dropped from the Dwarfs hand after she ripped it straight out of the Elf's sleeve with broken pieces spilled about like a spray of blood. The arcane prosthetic immediately went limp once away from him, dead on the cold stone. The man watched it with horror but the Dwarfs' violent gaze still fixated on him. Another silence fell upon the two as prey and predator stared each other down, Talia slowly drawing her axe as Cyrak pleaded with horrified eyes.
"Talia!" A distant call boomed through the open door, accompanied by thundering running footfalls.
The Dwarf bared her teeth, ignoring the interruption as she raised the axe. Cyrak winced in anticipation for the end, all of his attempts to clear his name having fallen on deaf ears. Before the blade could swing, however, two forms slid to a stop in the doorway in a hurried panic. One was the silhouette of a large Orc, eyes wide and moving urgently, the other was an equally distressed feline, desperate to protect her carer.
"Talia!" The Orc shouted in an attempt to halt the Elf's execution, charging towards her.
"What!?" She snapped, yanked from her rage-filled bloodlust. "Gorgoth?"
Her expression softened as she saw her closest friend wearing the same expression as her quarry. Gorgoth darted forwards and grabbed her axe-wielding hand to prevent her from acting further.
"It was fake! The letter was fake!" He blurted out as he locked his wide eyes with hers. "Khemze's scrying worked. He saw Kroll's memories. It was the Azure Fang!"
Talia's breath grew shallow as the axe slacked in her grip, sliding down until the top of her fist slid beneath its beard. She stared up into the Orc's eyes, the way he was looking at her crushing her spirit in an instant. Her rage and righteous fury melted away like ice in a desert, replaced with a powerful and unrelenting guilt.
"What on Tyr are you doing, Tal? We agreed we were going to investigate the letter first!" The Orc scolded in a concerned whisper.
Breaking eye contact with Gorgoth, Talia looked down to the Elf that lay under her boot. With horror at her own actions plastered across her face, she took a staggered step back and lifted her foot from Cyraks chest. Moving her gaze from one man to the other, she found no words to defend herself. Talia fled, bolting out the door in an urgent stride. Her thundering metal-coated steps clunked against the stone floor. Gorgoth sent a glance down to Cyrak, making an attempt to say something as his knee-jerk reaction compelled him to defend Talia. When no words came, the Platinum Guardian turned away from the Elf and hurried after the Dwarf. Once alone, Cyrak pushed himself up onto his elbow, turning his attention to Growley. The cat, having sensed the tension behind the Dwarf's arrival, lay down next to the Elf. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, winded from frantically searching for a high ranking member of the Chainbreakers to protect her master. Slowly laying back down on the cold stone, Cyrak put his arm around the tired cat and softly scratched at the top of her head.
"Good girl, Growls…" He said softly.
Part 4: Tusks and Pints
Through the darkness of the night, a four foot tall hulk of metal and clanking plates hurried forward. She needed to clear her head while her mind raced to ruin. Her axe twirled through the air, cutting through the gentle wind as it swung. The relative silence was painful as the city slept. Her ears focused on the clunking of her armour to drown out the nagging accusations that dug into the back of her head. Suddenly, she was snapped back to the world as a new noise broke through the black.
"Tal, wait up!" Another hulk shouted after her, jogging to catch up. "You move fast for a half-pint."
The man was a giant of steel and fury, his face the first thing to emerge from the shadow as both their eyes adjusted to meet the others. The Dwarf glanced back and slowed her pace, still swinging the axe in her hands through the empty street. He knew the walk she was doing all too well. Ever since they met all those years ago in Rezan's cages, Talia had always resolved to keep her stress separate from those around her. This was her 'trying to cool off' walk. He slowed down in kind but still followed for a good five minutes. He maintained his current distance, waiting until she decided to speak.
Talia stopped completely. She turned around to face him properly in a side alley. She dropped her axe to signal that she would go no further. The flames of a nearby lantern settled into a steady dance as the wind died down. The light tinted her pale white hair a hue of blazing red and orange. Her pauldrons reflected the dim light onto the wall beside her and the red cloth sash around her waist brightened in the flames. It caught the fabric just right to reveal intricate patterns loomed into the fabric in a slightly off colour, almost hidden to the naked eye.
"I slowed down so you could catch up, short-tusk." She offered him a weak laugh.
He gave her a smile and jabbed her shoulder with his thumb as he got close. The green of his skin shifted as he approached the light, giving them a shared complexion on at least one half of their face.
"There's my Blood-Kin. You alright?"
"Nearly killed a framed man... No, no I'm not." She hung her head dejectedly. "That's... never happened before. But... It makes me think... Did I fuck up like that before? Have I condemned an innocent before?"
"Don't do that. Stop, or I'll hit you." He let out a sigh and dropped to the ground to sit with his legs crossed.
The Orc slowly pulled the greatsword from his back, sheath and all, and set it to the side. He patted the paved street to invite her down.
"Don't beat yourself up. Maybe you did, I hope you didn't but in the end you're here now and all we can do is you can work to be better. We'll figure this out. We'll find whoever wrote that letter and the Azure bastards who went after Kroll."
Despite being on the floor, he still rivalled her height, a point he never let her forget and a fact she was still bitter about to this day. Right now wasn't the time for their playful back and forth, however.
"I hope so..." She sat down next to him. "I'm not gonna live this one down, will I?"
"Well that depends, do you remember what I was? Think I'll live that down?"
Her shoulders fell at his words, eyes cast to the floor. Though the two could contend with each other often enough both physically and mentally, this was one of the few times one defeated the other with a single sentence. A look of uncertainty showed on her face as bright as day. Hypocrisy hurts. Worse still that it took Gorgoth spelling out the similarities between his tale and the very reasons she had believed Cyrak irredeemable.
"That's something I can't answer. You know that..." She shifted a bit closer and rested her head on his paldron.
"Then, you probably know the answer to your one." He raised his powerful arm to rest it around her shoulder.
As he did, his eyes watched the internal reprimanding the Dwarf was giving herself. He reached up and patted the top of her head before leaning down to plan a soft kiss atop it.
"Don't you worry, they'll get theirs. And we'll get ours."
"I meant that you'd keep making fun of me for it, short-tusk... I wasn't intending for things to get this... heavy." She smiled softly up at him and placed her hand on his, gently setting the plate on plate. "We're fuck ups but... we're the best they got. Ain't that fuckin' terrifying?"
"I guess that means we're not entirely failures, hm? We built all this. You and me… And the others." The Orc muttered the last caveat under his breath. "You got one thing right, though. We are the best.Yeah, its scary but… just gotta stick it out with who matters."
She fell silent for a moment, summoning up some of her trademark arrogance that she always kept bottled up inside for emergencies.
"Ain't nothin' scarier than us.... Except Vy… I'm still scared of her." Talia chuckled for a moment but it faded as quick as it came. "We'll get everyone through this time... I promise."
She closed her hand around his, intertwining their fingers. He gripped her hand in his, softer than it seemed he was capable of, given his size. He watched the connection for a moment, a question playing on his mind, brought to the surface by a comfort only they could know. Such a small gesture as this, the steel and leather separating their skin but the heat still coming through; it made the world feel a little less dangerous. The two of them were able to feel a little less alone.
"It's gonna be a busy few months. Hunting the Azure Fang, dealing with that Dragon in the mountains.... Maybe we should go find my father, really load up our plate." He let out half of a laugh, but it was clearly forced.
She regarded him with her amber eyes, tinted with a soft red undertone by the burning lantern. She could see how anxious he was, and it worried her. Even alone together like this it was rare that either of them showed any sort of unease towards facing another.
"You joke but… you always brush me off when I ask about him." She blinked twice at him. "Why?"
"Fear mostly." He shrugged, dry as possible.
"How so...?" She lifted her head up from his shoulder to turn towards him.
"Well..." He exhaled, his grip on her hand tightening. "My father was a... brutal man. Not a surprise, Orcs aren't known for their nurturing attitudes, especially ones from Oakland like me. He treated us, my sister and me, real hard. We became hard. Tough. Warriors. He wasn't all bad, he was just...not loving. Then he became Ceann Finte, which kinda changed everything. Think of it like being a mix of a Court Noble and a Warchief. He was leading the tribe and representing us in Meeting Place. He got hungry, greedy. Everything I did back then I did for him. At the time I didn't really think about it, it was just life. It was what I knew. He aged, and was to choose his successor since nobody could best him in Comhrac." His face hardened as he spoke, flashes of memory playing behind his eyes. "And rumours said it was gonna be my sister. So, being an idiot who needed his father's approval, I set out to Levalia to do some great deed of honour. And during which, I ran into Knights. Crownguard Knights. They slaughtered me. And then... I woke up, with this massive wound in my chest and my sister dragging my corpse. I ran. Undeath is a sin in my tribe, what dies; dies and that's it. Even if the Gods had chosen to bring me back, as far as they and I were concerned, I was no better than a shambling skeleton. So, here we are..."
She lets out a soft sigh, pouting like a bitter child as she went to dispute his tale.
"You're nurturing... My husband was nurturing... It wasn't an 'Orc thing' or an 'Oakland thing' for your father, it was just him." She seemed almost sorry to say it but continued. "But... if it means anything, I'm glad you're around. I don't think I'd be here without you..."
She shifted her position to face her body towards him.
"I… need to confess something." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Something I never told anyone."
. "…Go on." He let her speak, stopping himself from laying on his charm after her previous concession.
She fidgeted with her sash with her free hand, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. The arm around her that brought comfort and warmth suddenly felt heavy and made her feel uneasy. Talia looked genuinely nervous around him for once and at this, his internal sweet moment melted away as he gained a cagey look about him that she'd encountered before. Normally, his suspicions could be brushed off like flies, but this only made her more anxious.
"You know Buri?"
"What about her?" He raised a brow.
"One night when it was just us… We got talking about necromancy. Hypotheticals, emergency situations, all that stuff. Turns out she knows a bit of it. Me and her made a… pact. I… if I looked like I was gonna go down in a fight we weren't winning…" She took a deep breath, knowing what was coming. "I made her promise to bring me back so I can give you all a chance to escape... And for a long time I... wanted... hoped, even... for that to be my end."
She leaned forward a bit, as if to rest her head on his chest but backed up immediately as his arm fell from her shoulders.
"It... I'm sorry..."
Gorgoth's face fell, any emotion sinking away, the only signal Talia needed. She winced, tensing up moments before the blow struck her; a punch straight to her cheek. The strike made her head reel back and threw her off balance. She steadied herself to stay sitting up, her preparations having done little to soften the sting.
"Don't be a fool! We don't do bullshit self-sacrifices. If you go down, I'll bring you back and berate you."
She covered her cheek with her hands, hunching over a bit with closed eyes as she tried to breathe through the pain.
"... Right." She took a deep breath once again, the exhale twice as slow. "... I..." She just fell silent, knowing the sentiment was lost in his mind.
"I've died once and a God brought me back. I'm not gonna get that lucky again. I don't think you're gonna share that fortune either. You don't get to chance it and die on me, got it?"
"I... wasn't intending to come back! At all!" She looked at him for a moment, convincing herself that it was a stance worth fighting for. "You... don't come back when you get turned into one of those things... You can't come back! That was the point!"
She shook her head softly, her spirit retreating once again.
"It would finally be out of my hands. It-... Never mind."
"You don't get to be one of those shambling things, Tal. I'd have cut it down myself for daring to wear your face. You're worth more than that…"
"I said never mind!" She rose to her feet.
Talia moved across the alley, sitting against the opposite wall to put as much distance between the two as possible without leaving.
"Forget it... please."
"No. Promise me you won't do something like that, ever."
"Stop." She raised a hand between them.
"Promise."
"Gorgoth. This was a confession, not a debate. I knew it was a bad idea..." She stayed firm.
"I know, I ain't debating. I'm asking, as your Blood-Kin, for a promise." He was just as stubborn.
"I'm not making a promise I don't know if I can keep, Gorgoth... Especially not to you." She looked away from him, staring at the lantern. "I don't plan on dying any time soon... Not anymore."
"Then I just gotta make sure you don't do something dumb without me." A meek smile reached out to her, followed shortly by his bare hand. " 'till the end?"
She looked at his hand for a moment, taking a deep breath to let, or force, her emotions away. The Dwarf took off her gauntlet and clasped his hand. Her amber eyes met his, a radiant pale blue.
"To the end, you insensitive cock."
"Oh, like you're Miss Empathy all the time." He laughed as his smile turned into a smirk, pulling her closer and enveloping her in a headlock. "You are so fucking full of it, Cadash."
She flew forward like a ragdoll, getting caught off guard for once and suddenly finding herself trapped under his arm. Though she hated it, she couldn't help but laugh out of surprise,
"No, no! Don't you call me that. Cadash is reserved for bastards!" She struggled against the headlock. "Ugh, my father made me and everyone else call him that... figured it sounded tough." She chuckled softly as she forced space to breathe. "You're a piece of shit but... a shit that can always make me smile."
She lifted his arm off from around her neck before putting it back over her shoulder as she sat against him once again.
"Gorgoth... I got another question... a hard one."
"Just all out tonight, eh? C'mon then, give it to me."
"Well fuckin'... I missed you, alright? I thought I lost you... for months." She looked down at his arm as it softly coiled around her chest.
The Shieldmaiden let it go, surrendering to his embrace once more.
"Do you think... with our lifestyle... that you'd ever have kids?"
The blood rushed to his cheeks, tinting it a rare shade of red and green that was even harder to see than it was to cause. He took a long pause to formulate a response.
"I uh...I dunno. I feel I'd get it killed in the first week, and if not… I guess I'm afraid I'll mess it up some other way. I'd say maybe someday, when I'm out of this life. But I'll never be out of this life. You?"
"That's... kinda what I'm stuck on. I'm afraid that... having something like that to lose... would cause me to lose it." She shrank behind his arm, hiding the lower half of her face in it. "For the record... I think you'd be a great dad..."
She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the closeness.
"In peacetime, what is a warrior? I got asked that once back in Riverrest... I still don't got an answer... and I'm afraid to find out." Her eyes travelled up to him again. "Are we even capable of finding something in life beyond killing? Is... that all we're good for? What happens when we stop fighting?"
"It's all I'm good for. You though, Tal? You're more than you let on. When we get out there and deal with what we've to deal with, I'd like to see you settle somewhere. Find something or someone worth moving on for. Me? I can't even imagine it. Not right now at least. I so wanna be Uncle Gorgoth to a bunch of Dwarf kids one day. That'll be me sorted. I'd have been lucky if someone half like you was a parent to me."
She placed her hands on his arm again. Despite the cool winds and city grime that surrounded them, she felt warm from both his words and his heart. He felt it too, the cobblestone they sat on slowly shifting to soft cushion as the whole world seemed to get a little more comfortable just for them.
"You're smarter than you give yourself credit for... and worth a whole lot more to me and the world alive. I know I've chewed your ear off about the whole 'death in battle' thing plenty of times so I'll save you the trouble, but... just try to stick around long enough to stop and smell the roses with me... Just for a little while. I already gotta..." Her eyes seemed to water as she pressed her face against his arm. "I already gotta sit through three hundred years without you... I want as many memories of us to look back on as possible... and the fewer caked in blood and dirt, the better..."
"Alright cry baby, alright." He pulled her into a deep hug, his own eyes tearing up too, not that he'd ever admit it to her. "I'll do my best, half-pint. You do enough living for us both when that time comes, yeah? I'll be at peace knowing that. Love you Tal, always will."
"I love you too Gorgoth..." She lifted her face from his armour. "And... I'm glad you're okay... Is it ok if we just sit here for a while...?"
"'Course it is, I ain't going anywhere." He said softly.
The two sat on the cobblestone in their full armour, all the poking metal and chaffing leather not bothering them in the slightest. She rested her head on his chest, his big heart thumping away in her ear. The lantern slowly died out and left them in darkness once more but the warmth between them remained. They stayed there for who knows how long, two weapons finding comfort in their own purpose and lack thereof, next to a greatsword and an axe, nestled together in the same way they were.
"Tal, wait up!" Another hulk shouted after her, jogging to catch up. "You move fast for a half-pint."
The man was a giant of steel and fury, his face the first thing to emerge from the shadow as both their eyes adjusted to meet the others. The Dwarf glanced back and slowed her pace, still swinging the axe in her hands through the empty street. He knew the walk she was doing all too well. Ever since they met all those years ago in Rezan's cages, Talia had always resolved to keep her stress separate from those around her. This was her 'trying to cool off' walk. He slowed down in kind but still followed for a good five minutes. He maintained his current distance, waiting until she decided to speak.
Talia stopped completely. She turned around to face him properly in a side alley. She dropped her axe to signal that she would go no further. The flames of a nearby lantern settled into a steady dance as the wind died down. The light tinted her pale white hair a hue of blazing red and orange. Her pauldrons reflected the dim light onto the wall beside her and the red cloth sash around her waist brightened in the flames. It caught the fabric just right to reveal intricate patterns loomed into the fabric in a slightly off colour, almost hidden to the naked eye.
"I slowed down so you could catch up, short-tusk." She offered him a weak laugh.
He gave her a smile and jabbed her shoulder with his thumb as he got close. The green of his skin shifted as he approached the light, giving them a shared complexion on at least one half of their face.
"There's my Blood-Kin. You alright?"
"Nearly killed a framed man... No, no I'm not." She hung her head dejectedly. "That's... never happened before. But... It makes me think... Did I fuck up like that before? Have I condemned an innocent before?"
"Don't do that. Stop, or I'll hit you." He let out a sigh and dropped to the ground to sit with his legs crossed.
The Orc slowly pulled the greatsword from his back, sheath and all, and set it to the side. He patted the paved street to invite her down.
"Don't beat yourself up. Maybe you did, I hope you didn't but in the end you're here now and all we can do is you can work to be better. We'll figure this out. We'll find whoever wrote that letter and the Azure bastards who went after Kroll."
Despite being on the floor, he still rivalled her height, a point he never let her forget and a fact she was still bitter about to this day. Right now wasn't the time for their playful back and forth, however.
"I hope so..." She sat down next to him. "I'm not gonna live this one down, will I?"
"Well that depends, do you remember what I was? Think I'll live that down?"
Her shoulders fell at his words, eyes cast to the floor. Though the two could contend with each other often enough both physically and mentally, this was one of the few times one defeated the other with a single sentence. A look of uncertainty showed on her face as bright as day. Hypocrisy hurts. Worse still that it took Gorgoth spelling out the similarities between his tale and the very reasons she had believed Cyrak irredeemable.
"That's something I can't answer. You know that..." She shifted a bit closer and rested her head on his paldron.
"Then, you probably know the answer to your one." He raised his powerful arm to rest it around her shoulder.
As he did, his eyes watched the internal reprimanding the Dwarf was giving herself. He reached up and patted the top of her head before leaning down to plan a soft kiss atop it.
"Don't you worry, they'll get theirs. And we'll get ours."
"I meant that you'd keep making fun of me for it, short-tusk... I wasn't intending for things to get this... heavy." She smiled softly up at him and placed her hand on his, gently setting the plate on plate. "We're fuck ups but... we're the best they got. Ain't that fuckin' terrifying?"
"I guess that means we're not entirely failures, hm? We built all this. You and me… And the others." The Orc muttered the last caveat under his breath. "You got one thing right, though. We are the best.Yeah, its scary but… just gotta stick it out with who matters."
She fell silent for a moment, summoning up some of her trademark arrogance that she always kept bottled up inside for emergencies.
"Ain't nothin' scarier than us.... Except Vy… I'm still scared of her." Talia chuckled for a moment but it faded as quick as it came. "We'll get everyone through this time... I promise."
She closed her hand around his, intertwining their fingers. He gripped her hand in his, softer than it seemed he was capable of, given his size. He watched the connection for a moment, a question playing on his mind, brought to the surface by a comfort only they could know. Such a small gesture as this, the steel and leather separating their skin but the heat still coming through; it made the world feel a little less dangerous. The two of them were able to feel a little less alone.
"It's gonna be a busy few months. Hunting the Azure Fang, dealing with that Dragon in the mountains.... Maybe we should go find my father, really load up our plate." He let out half of a laugh, but it was clearly forced.
She regarded him with her amber eyes, tinted with a soft red undertone by the burning lantern. She could see how anxious he was, and it worried her. Even alone together like this it was rare that either of them showed any sort of unease towards facing another.
"You joke but… you always brush me off when I ask about him." She blinked twice at him. "Why?"
"Fear mostly." He shrugged, dry as possible.
"How so...?" She lifted her head up from his shoulder to turn towards him.
"Well..." He exhaled, his grip on her hand tightening. "My father was a... brutal man. Not a surprise, Orcs aren't known for their nurturing attitudes, especially ones from Oakland like me. He treated us, my sister and me, real hard. We became hard. Tough. Warriors. He wasn't all bad, he was just...not loving. Then he became Ceann Finte, which kinda changed everything. Think of it like being a mix of a Court Noble and a Warchief. He was leading the tribe and representing us in Meeting Place. He got hungry, greedy. Everything I did back then I did for him. At the time I didn't really think about it, it was just life. It was what I knew. He aged, and was to choose his successor since nobody could best him in Comhrac." His face hardened as he spoke, flashes of memory playing behind his eyes. "And rumours said it was gonna be my sister. So, being an idiot who needed his father's approval, I set out to Levalia to do some great deed of honour. And during which, I ran into Knights. Crownguard Knights. They slaughtered me. And then... I woke up, with this massive wound in my chest and my sister dragging my corpse. I ran. Undeath is a sin in my tribe, what dies; dies and that's it. Even if the Gods had chosen to bring me back, as far as they and I were concerned, I was no better than a shambling skeleton. So, here we are..."
She lets out a soft sigh, pouting like a bitter child as she went to dispute his tale.
"You're nurturing... My husband was nurturing... It wasn't an 'Orc thing' or an 'Oakland thing' for your father, it was just him." She seemed almost sorry to say it but continued. "But... if it means anything, I'm glad you're around. I don't think I'd be here without you..."
She shifted her position to face her body towards him.
"I… need to confess something." She rubbed the back of her neck. "Something I never told anyone."
. "…Go on." He let her speak, stopping himself from laying on his charm after her previous concession.
She fidgeted with her sash with her free hand, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. The arm around her that brought comfort and warmth suddenly felt heavy and made her feel uneasy. Talia looked genuinely nervous around him for once and at this, his internal sweet moment melted away as he gained a cagey look about him that she'd encountered before. Normally, his suspicions could be brushed off like flies, but this only made her more anxious.
"You know Buri?"
"What about her?" He raised a brow.
"One night when it was just us… We got talking about necromancy. Hypotheticals, emergency situations, all that stuff. Turns out she knows a bit of it. Me and her made a… pact. I… if I looked like I was gonna go down in a fight we weren't winning…" She took a deep breath, knowing what was coming. "I made her promise to bring me back so I can give you all a chance to escape... And for a long time I... wanted... hoped, even... for that to be my end."
She leaned forward a bit, as if to rest her head on his chest but backed up immediately as his arm fell from her shoulders.
"It... I'm sorry..."
Gorgoth's face fell, any emotion sinking away, the only signal Talia needed. She winced, tensing up moments before the blow struck her; a punch straight to her cheek. The strike made her head reel back and threw her off balance. She steadied herself to stay sitting up, her preparations having done little to soften the sting.
"Don't be a fool! We don't do bullshit self-sacrifices. If you go down, I'll bring you back and berate you."
She covered her cheek with her hands, hunching over a bit with closed eyes as she tried to breathe through the pain.
"... Right." She took a deep breath once again, the exhale twice as slow. "... I..." She just fell silent, knowing the sentiment was lost in his mind.
"I've died once and a God brought me back. I'm not gonna get that lucky again. I don't think you're gonna share that fortune either. You don't get to chance it and die on me, got it?"
"I... wasn't intending to come back! At all!" She looked at him for a moment, convincing herself that it was a stance worth fighting for. "You... don't come back when you get turned into one of those things... You can't come back! That was the point!"
She shook her head softly, her spirit retreating once again.
"It would finally be out of my hands. It-... Never mind."
"You don't get to be one of those shambling things, Tal. I'd have cut it down myself for daring to wear your face. You're worth more than that…"
"I said never mind!" She rose to her feet.
Talia moved across the alley, sitting against the opposite wall to put as much distance between the two as possible without leaving.
"Forget it... please."
"No. Promise me you won't do something like that, ever."
"Stop." She raised a hand between them.
"Promise."
"Gorgoth. This was a confession, not a debate. I knew it was a bad idea..." She stayed firm.
"I know, I ain't debating. I'm asking, as your Blood-Kin, for a promise." He was just as stubborn.
"I'm not making a promise I don't know if I can keep, Gorgoth... Especially not to you." She looked away from him, staring at the lantern. "I don't plan on dying any time soon... Not anymore."
"Then I just gotta make sure you don't do something dumb without me." A meek smile reached out to her, followed shortly by his bare hand. " 'till the end?"
She looked at his hand for a moment, taking a deep breath to let, or force, her emotions away. The Dwarf took off her gauntlet and clasped his hand. Her amber eyes met his, a radiant pale blue.
"To the end, you insensitive cock."
"Oh, like you're Miss Empathy all the time." He laughed as his smile turned into a smirk, pulling her closer and enveloping her in a headlock. "You are so fucking full of it, Cadash."
She flew forward like a ragdoll, getting caught off guard for once and suddenly finding herself trapped under his arm. Though she hated it, she couldn't help but laugh out of surprise,
"No, no! Don't you call me that. Cadash is reserved for bastards!" She struggled against the headlock. "Ugh, my father made me and everyone else call him that... figured it sounded tough." She chuckled softly as she forced space to breathe. "You're a piece of shit but... a shit that can always make me smile."
She lifted his arm off from around her neck before putting it back over her shoulder as she sat against him once again.
"Gorgoth... I got another question... a hard one."
"Just all out tonight, eh? C'mon then, give it to me."
"Well fuckin'... I missed you, alright? I thought I lost you... for months." She looked down at his arm as it softly coiled around her chest.
The Shieldmaiden let it go, surrendering to his embrace once more.
"Do you think... with our lifestyle... that you'd ever have kids?"
The blood rushed to his cheeks, tinting it a rare shade of red and green that was even harder to see than it was to cause. He took a long pause to formulate a response.
"I uh...I dunno. I feel I'd get it killed in the first week, and if not… I guess I'm afraid I'll mess it up some other way. I'd say maybe someday, when I'm out of this life. But I'll never be out of this life. You?"
"That's... kinda what I'm stuck on. I'm afraid that... having something like that to lose... would cause me to lose it." She shrank behind his arm, hiding the lower half of her face in it. "For the record... I think you'd be a great dad..."
She closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying the closeness.
"In peacetime, what is a warrior? I got asked that once back in Riverrest... I still don't got an answer... and I'm afraid to find out." Her eyes travelled up to him again. "Are we even capable of finding something in life beyond killing? Is... that all we're good for? What happens when we stop fighting?"
"It's all I'm good for. You though, Tal? You're more than you let on. When we get out there and deal with what we've to deal with, I'd like to see you settle somewhere. Find something or someone worth moving on for. Me? I can't even imagine it. Not right now at least. I so wanna be Uncle Gorgoth to a bunch of Dwarf kids one day. That'll be me sorted. I'd have been lucky if someone half like you was a parent to me."
She placed her hands on his arm again. Despite the cool winds and city grime that surrounded them, she felt warm from both his words and his heart. He felt it too, the cobblestone they sat on slowly shifting to soft cushion as the whole world seemed to get a little more comfortable just for them.
"You're smarter than you give yourself credit for... and worth a whole lot more to me and the world alive. I know I've chewed your ear off about the whole 'death in battle' thing plenty of times so I'll save you the trouble, but... just try to stick around long enough to stop and smell the roses with me... Just for a little while. I already gotta..." Her eyes seemed to water as she pressed her face against his arm. "I already gotta sit through three hundred years without you... I want as many memories of us to look back on as possible... and the fewer caked in blood and dirt, the better..."
"Alright cry baby, alright." He pulled her into a deep hug, his own eyes tearing up too, not that he'd ever admit it to her. "I'll do my best, half-pint. You do enough living for us both when that time comes, yeah? I'll be at peace knowing that. Love you Tal, always will."
"I love you too Gorgoth..." She lifted her face from his armour. "And... I'm glad you're okay... Is it ok if we just sit here for a while...?"
"'Course it is, I ain't going anywhere." He said softly.
The two sat on the cobblestone in their full armour, all the poking metal and chaffing leather not bothering them in the slightest. She rested her head on his chest, his big heart thumping away in her ear. The lantern slowly died out and left them in darkness once more but the warmth between them remained. They stayed there for who knows how long, two weapons finding comfort in their own purpose and lack thereof, next to a greatsword and an axe, nestled together in the same way they were.
Part 5: Does sorry cover it?
"Fucking… Gah!"
The short warrior grunted in frustration, staring at her warped reflection in her shield. Her stubby, calloused fingers fiddled with her hair as she tried to recreate one of the finer braids she'd been shown by her blood-sister.
"Ngh… Come on, you piece of..." She made another attempt.
A few twists into the braid, the spot that kept giving her trouble did so once more. The Dwarf winced at her own reflection, unable to make out the details due to the nature of her mirror.
"Damn it!" She huffed, undoing her progress with a single flick of her hand.
The free strands of hair fell along her cheek, curling under her chin to brush against her neck. Talia found herself in a situation she never thought she'd ever be in. Her armour and adventuring gear swapped out for a shoulder length blouse, leather corset and a long, ruffled dress. Normally, she had never been one for local celebrations, having assigned herself to patrols or other tasks to allow the rest of the Chainbreakers to enjoy themselves. While that had gained her no small amount of favour among her subordinates, it wasn't out of a desire to be a good boss. Talia watched her reflected self sit uncomfortably on a stone bench in the guildhall's garden. She was forced to accept the fact that she just couldn't bring herself to relax. To put the weapons down for a day and be a person. Her battle scarred fingers fidgeted with the ruffles of her dress as she caught her restless mind wandering to how she would fight in these clothes should the world end on her only day off in years.
She stared at the scarred metal, her pale fringe coloured by a scorch mark along the steel. Talia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing every thought out of her mind save for the instructions she was desperately trying to follow.
"One more try." She muttered, starting again.
As she went to work, the morning dew about the garden started to shift. The droplets of water began to gather and pull themselves together. They peeled off the blades of grass and petals of mage-grown flowers from all across the world, carrying themselves into the air to collect into a single point. The growing mass of liquid warped itself into shape, taking on opacity, colour and texture as a moving mirror of Talia's head formed before her. She recoiled, startled and wide-eyed. The Dwarf grew even more concerned by the reflection doing the same. She was already silently damning every soul who begged her to leave her weapons behind for a day. As she balled up her fists, ready to fight whatever unknowable creature was summoning the illusion, someone cleared their throat from behind the jumpy Commander. Talia turned around to see a familiar Elf behind her. One arm constructed of shaped metal, gears and arcane intricacies and the other covered in a tapestry of tattoos that glowed a soft blue. He was leaning a shoulder against a nearby ironwood tree with his arms folded and legs crossed. He lifted the glowing hand to gently wave at the jittery Dwarf. Suddenly self-conscious in her inability to switch off, she blushed a subtle red and rose to her feet. Talia picked up her shield, shuffling her feet a step away from the stone bench.
"I, uh… I'll let you have the seat." She muttered, avoiding his gaze.
"No, no. Sit. I want to see the braid when it's done." His reply was warm, almost kind to her surprise.
She kept her eyes low and let out a vague vocalisation of agreement. Setting the shield against the bench, she sat back down next to the floating reflection of her head. It took a moment to get used to the odd illusion. Eventually, she straightened her back to be level height with it and started working with her hair. The untrained fingers still caused problems but the main obstacle was removed. Eventually, the frustrated woman made hard-earned progress with her defiant hair, managing to recreate what Vy had shown her. A faux-undercut braid along the right side of her head. It was something that suited her neck-length, snow-white hair but allowed her to still feel like herself. Her blood-sister had assured her that it was something many women in the nearby frontier nation of Oakland wore into battle.
"I, uh… thanks." She nodded to him, still unable to face him properly.
"It looks good. If I wasn't scared shiteless of you I might've bought you a drink." The Elf chuckled softly and pushed off of the tree with his shoulder to mimic her approach from their last encounter.
The illusion faded and with it, so did the light from his tattoos. He took a few steps closer as his eyes were more piercing than any arrow to the Dwarf. Talia sorely missed her armour in that moment, feeling incredibly vulnerable under the gaze of a man she could snap in half like a twig. He sat near her, a foot or two away at the other end of the bench. His forged arm, that she ripped off the last time they met, has its sleeve purposely rolled up. She let out an awkward laugh in response to his attempt at levity, cheeks reddening again.
"Well, I… a lot of people find me scary but Vy's way worse. She's like me but… knows what she's doing, y'know?" She tried her best to ignore the elephant in the room.
"The Caoirigh lass, right? I found her professional, not all that scary. Just very… 'business' with the guildfolk." He nodded along, letting his eyes move off her finally towards the blooming beauty of the garden around them.
An off silence fell on the two, broken only by the beating of a charm of hummingbirds' wings as they darted through the exotic flora. Talia had attempted to plot out this conversation tens of times by now. From planning every word she would say to how she would handle every possible reaction. Yet, now in the moment, she longed for the relative simplicity of fighting some rampaging demon as she fumbled over everything. All of her preparations were nowhere to be found within her mind as she went to speak.
"So… uh… look. Ki-... Cyrak. I wanted to say that I'm… sorry for what I did." She fiddled with the rim of her dress, keeping her eyes on her hands.
"Yeah, I figured." The pale Elf nodded, idly scratching his beard.
"Yeah…" She repeated, sending an embarrassed glance up at him.
"I don't hold it against you, lass. All is forgiven." He waved it off as if it were just that. "Not like holding a grudge against you would do me any favours. You could knock my arse twelve ways to Noslin and have energy to spare. You showed that much."
He gave her a soft punch in the shoulder with his flesh hand. The friendly smirk on his face was warm enough to draw one onto hers if only for but a moment.
"That still doesn't-... How are you not furious with me?" She turned to face him properly.
"Because, seeing the great Shieldmaiden, Commander Talia Cadash avoiding me like a Pixie with Cold Iron stopped bringing me smug gratification days ago. Now it's just made it harder to work for you." He offered a matter-of-fact shrug as he turned to her.
"I-… uh. Thanks. I'll… Could we, I don't know, start over? I've never fucked up to this scale before… With a person, at least." Finally, she looked into his eyes.
He held her gaze for a moment or two before nodding a couple times and with a click of his tongue a puff of smoke appeared between the two. As it cleared he greeted her with an upwards nod and a grin.
"Evening, stranger."
She couldn't help but let out a short laugh before going along with it.
"Hey there, new blood. Names Talia, Talia Cadash. Your metallic arm is fascinating. I'd never rip it off."
He bowed his head in thanks as she puffed out her chest, a social cue she learned from Gorgoth, of all people, to assert dominance.
"Cyrak Mora, at your service. I love your braid. You look as radiant as the Aspects and tough as nails." He folded his arms again, letting the act drop. "There, boss. Much better intro, don't you think?"
She chuckled softly, looking down to hide the blush forming on her cheeks.
"I'm not your boss. Not today at least. I've been… ordered to attend the damned festival tonight." She crossed her legs, leaning back to put her weight on her palms.
"Fine, not-boss... Milord it is then." He smirked. "The heavily armoured shoe fits if you ask me."
"That'd be like me calling you Captain. No." She waved him off.
"Not complaining. I wanna get a ship after all this anyway. You should try leading something other than a group of monster hunters for once, I think you'd be good at it."
Talia smiled but it ran away from her face in almost an instant. Her eyes focused on a hovering hummingbird that had stopped to investigate a violet lily from a far off land for a few moments too long.
"I've spent most of my life being ordered to fight… figured it was all I was good for, y'know? Even in the Chainbreakers. I was just brought along to contracts and pointed at big beasts and mean bastards. My husband, rest his soul, got me into all this to hunt bounties with him. Gorgoth and I talk with our fists most of the time. Sometimes I just wonder if I really am anything more than a weapon for others to point at what they'd like to stop breathing this week."
Cyraks brows lowered, watching the Dwarves face as it was highlighted in the morning Soeul.
"Sera… wrote to me once. Told me about you. It's how I knew she came here in the first place. Told me how you once took on twelve trained soldiers by yourself in a brawl with a blunt axe and your fists… but she also told me you were a brewer with a passion for flavour. Told me how you once spent four days alone locked in your room trying to get a ratio just right. Told me of the way you cared for people, both as a barkeep and a friend. She really liked you in her odd way." His eyes never left her face as he spoke.
He watched for any shift in mood or indication that he was working the right angle. There was nothing at first. He started to lose hope and turned his gaze to the garden around them.
"She was a cunt. Stood down and watched with Rezan during that fight… just talked to him while they swarmed us." Her fingers gripped at the stone beneath her hands.
"Ah.. I see…" He pursed his lips and looked further away.
"What do you see when you look at me, Captain?" Talia finally turned her gaze to him.
"I see a loaded question, lass." He let a smirk play on his lips for but a moment before meeting her eyes. "I see the potential for a leader. A warrior who's done takin' orders. I see a shieldmaiden wanting to be a commoner. A woman for the people but desperately wanting to be of the people. And, I see someone who wants more out of life than steel and the taste of copper."
She replied to his words with a sullen nod, forcing herself to keep looking at him.
"Wanna do me now?" He chuckled, gesturing with his arms out wide.
"What kind of woman do you take me for?" She found her smile again, even if it was all too brief.
He started to laugh, snickering mostly.
"I had a feeling that'd get you. I'd like to introduce you to your smile. Hang on to it for a little longer and stop falling on your own axe." He bunched up his knees before pushing himself to his feet. "You're more than a blade to be swung, Talia. Swords don't often question the one who swings 'em. Or use such crude language. See ye around, Milord."
"Stay safe, Captain. If I had low enough standards I might just take you up on what you said earlier." She let out a soft chuckle, mostly as a response to his hearty laugh that followed her words.
"Had to cut me down one last time. Cruel, Boss. Sadly, I enjoy my hip bones not being a fine powder. Enjoy the Night of the Misty Dance, Talia. I'd avoid the wine, though, if I were you. I hear it's Aristacan."
With a firm pat on the shoulder, he passed her by, heading towards the barracks and leaving the Dwarf alone once more. Her time in the Chainbreakers was coming to an end. She wondered to herself what her next move would be.
The short warrior grunted in frustration, staring at her warped reflection in her shield. Her stubby, calloused fingers fiddled with her hair as she tried to recreate one of the finer braids she'd been shown by her blood-sister.
"Ngh… Come on, you piece of..." She made another attempt.
A few twists into the braid, the spot that kept giving her trouble did so once more. The Dwarf winced at her own reflection, unable to make out the details due to the nature of her mirror.
"Damn it!" She huffed, undoing her progress with a single flick of her hand.
The free strands of hair fell along her cheek, curling under her chin to brush against her neck. Talia found herself in a situation she never thought she'd ever be in. Her armour and adventuring gear swapped out for a shoulder length blouse, leather corset and a long, ruffled dress. Normally, she had never been one for local celebrations, having assigned herself to patrols or other tasks to allow the rest of the Chainbreakers to enjoy themselves. While that had gained her no small amount of favour among her subordinates, it wasn't out of a desire to be a good boss. Talia watched her reflected self sit uncomfortably on a stone bench in the guildhall's garden. She was forced to accept the fact that she just couldn't bring herself to relax. To put the weapons down for a day and be a person. Her battle scarred fingers fidgeted with the ruffles of her dress as she caught her restless mind wandering to how she would fight in these clothes should the world end on her only day off in years.
She stared at the scarred metal, her pale fringe coloured by a scorch mark along the steel. Talia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, forcing every thought out of her mind save for the instructions she was desperately trying to follow.
"One more try." She muttered, starting again.
As she went to work, the morning dew about the garden started to shift. The droplets of water began to gather and pull themselves together. They peeled off the blades of grass and petals of mage-grown flowers from all across the world, carrying themselves into the air to collect into a single point. The growing mass of liquid warped itself into shape, taking on opacity, colour and texture as a moving mirror of Talia's head formed before her. She recoiled, startled and wide-eyed. The Dwarf grew even more concerned by the reflection doing the same. She was already silently damning every soul who begged her to leave her weapons behind for a day. As she balled up her fists, ready to fight whatever unknowable creature was summoning the illusion, someone cleared their throat from behind the jumpy Commander. Talia turned around to see a familiar Elf behind her. One arm constructed of shaped metal, gears and arcane intricacies and the other covered in a tapestry of tattoos that glowed a soft blue. He was leaning a shoulder against a nearby ironwood tree with his arms folded and legs crossed. He lifted the glowing hand to gently wave at the jittery Dwarf. Suddenly self-conscious in her inability to switch off, she blushed a subtle red and rose to her feet. Talia picked up her shield, shuffling her feet a step away from the stone bench.
"I, uh… I'll let you have the seat." She muttered, avoiding his gaze.
"No, no. Sit. I want to see the braid when it's done." His reply was warm, almost kind to her surprise.
She kept her eyes low and let out a vague vocalisation of agreement. Setting the shield against the bench, she sat back down next to the floating reflection of her head. It took a moment to get used to the odd illusion. Eventually, she straightened her back to be level height with it and started working with her hair. The untrained fingers still caused problems but the main obstacle was removed. Eventually, the frustrated woman made hard-earned progress with her defiant hair, managing to recreate what Vy had shown her. A faux-undercut braid along the right side of her head. It was something that suited her neck-length, snow-white hair but allowed her to still feel like herself. Her blood-sister had assured her that it was something many women in the nearby frontier nation of Oakland wore into battle.
"I, uh… thanks." She nodded to him, still unable to face him properly.
"It looks good. If I wasn't scared shiteless of you I might've bought you a drink." The Elf chuckled softly and pushed off of the tree with his shoulder to mimic her approach from their last encounter.
The illusion faded and with it, so did the light from his tattoos. He took a few steps closer as his eyes were more piercing than any arrow to the Dwarf. Talia sorely missed her armour in that moment, feeling incredibly vulnerable under the gaze of a man she could snap in half like a twig. He sat near her, a foot or two away at the other end of the bench. His forged arm, that she ripped off the last time they met, has its sleeve purposely rolled up. She let out an awkward laugh in response to his attempt at levity, cheeks reddening again.
"Well, I… a lot of people find me scary but Vy's way worse. She's like me but… knows what she's doing, y'know?" She tried her best to ignore the elephant in the room.
"The Caoirigh lass, right? I found her professional, not all that scary. Just very… 'business' with the guildfolk." He nodded along, letting his eyes move off her finally towards the blooming beauty of the garden around them.
An off silence fell on the two, broken only by the beating of a charm of hummingbirds' wings as they darted through the exotic flora. Talia had attempted to plot out this conversation tens of times by now. From planning every word she would say to how she would handle every possible reaction. Yet, now in the moment, she longed for the relative simplicity of fighting some rampaging demon as she fumbled over everything. All of her preparations were nowhere to be found within her mind as she went to speak.
"So… uh… look. Ki-... Cyrak. I wanted to say that I'm… sorry for what I did." She fiddled with the rim of her dress, keeping her eyes on her hands.
"Yeah, I figured." The pale Elf nodded, idly scratching his beard.
"Yeah…" She repeated, sending an embarrassed glance up at him.
"I don't hold it against you, lass. All is forgiven." He waved it off as if it were just that. "Not like holding a grudge against you would do me any favours. You could knock my arse twelve ways to Noslin and have energy to spare. You showed that much."
He gave her a soft punch in the shoulder with his flesh hand. The friendly smirk on his face was warm enough to draw one onto hers if only for but a moment.
"That still doesn't-... How are you not furious with me?" She turned to face him properly.
"Because, seeing the great Shieldmaiden, Commander Talia Cadash avoiding me like a Pixie with Cold Iron stopped bringing me smug gratification days ago. Now it's just made it harder to work for you." He offered a matter-of-fact shrug as he turned to her.
"I-… uh. Thanks. I'll… Could we, I don't know, start over? I've never fucked up to this scale before… With a person, at least." Finally, she looked into his eyes.
He held her gaze for a moment or two before nodding a couple times and with a click of his tongue a puff of smoke appeared between the two. As it cleared he greeted her with an upwards nod and a grin.
"Evening, stranger."
She couldn't help but let out a short laugh before going along with it.
"Hey there, new blood. Names Talia, Talia Cadash. Your metallic arm is fascinating. I'd never rip it off."
He bowed his head in thanks as she puffed out her chest, a social cue she learned from Gorgoth, of all people, to assert dominance.
"Cyrak Mora, at your service. I love your braid. You look as radiant as the Aspects and tough as nails." He folded his arms again, letting the act drop. "There, boss. Much better intro, don't you think?"
She chuckled softly, looking down to hide the blush forming on her cheeks.
"I'm not your boss. Not today at least. I've been… ordered to attend the damned festival tonight." She crossed her legs, leaning back to put her weight on her palms.
"Fine, not-boss... Milord it is then." He smirked. "The heavily armoured shoe fits if you ask me."
"That'd be like me calling you Captain. No." She waved him off.
"Not complaining. I wanna get a ship after all this anyway. You should try leading something other than a group of monster hunters for once, I think you'd be good at it."
Talia smiled but it ran away from her face in almost an instant. Her eyes focused on a hovering hummingbird that had stopped to investigate a violet lily from a far off land for a few moments too long.
"I've spent most of my life being ordered to fight… figured it was all I was good for, y'know? Even in the Chainbreakers. I was just brought along to contracts and pointed at big beasts and mean bastards. My husband, rest his soul, got me into all this to hunt bounties with him. Gorgoth and I talk with our fists most of the time. Sometimes I just wonder if I really am anything more than a weapon for others to point at what they'd like to stop breathing this week."
Cyraks brows lowered, watching the Dwarves face as it was highlighted in the morning Soeul.
"Sera… wrote to me once. Told me about you. It's how I knew she came here in the first place. Told me how you once took on twelve trained soldiers by yourself in a brawl with a blunt axe and your fists… but she also told me you were a brewer with a passion for flavour. Told me how you once spent four days alone locked in your room trying to get a ratio just right. Told me of the way you cared for people, both as a barkeep and a friend. She really liked you in her odd way." His eyes never left her face as he spoke.
He watched for any shift in mood or indication that he was working the right angle. There was nothing at first. He started to lose hope and turned his gaze to the garden around them.
"She was a cunt. Stood down and watched with Rezan during that fight… just talked to him while they swarmed us." Her fingers gripped at the stone beneath her hands.
"Ah.. I see…" He pursed his lips and looked further away.
"What do you see when you look at me, Captain?" Talia finally turned her gaze to him.
"I see a loaded question, lass." He let a smirk play on his lips for but a moment before meeting her eyes. "I see the potential for a leader. A warrior who's done takin' orders. I see a shieldmaiden wanting to be a commoner. A woman for the people but desperately wanting to be of the people. And, I see someone who wants more out of life than steel and the taste of copper."
She replied to his words with a sullen nod, forcing herself to keep looking at him.
"Wanna do me now?" He chuckled, gesturing with his arms out wide.
"What kind of woman do you take me for?" She found her smile again, even if it was all too brief.
He started to laugh, snickering mostly.
"I had a feeling that'd get you. I'd like to introduce you to your smile. Hang on to it for a little longer and stop falling on your own axe." He bunched up his knees before pushing himself to his feet. "You're more than a blade to be swung, Talia. Swords don't often question the one who swings 'em. Or use such crude language. See ye around, Milord."
"Stay safe, Captain. If I had low enough standards I might just take you up on what you said earlier." She let out a soft chuckle, mostly as a response to his hearty laugh that followed her words.
"Had to cut me down one last time. Cruel, Boss. Sadly, I enjoy my hip bones not being a fine powder. Enjoy the Night of the Misty Dance, Talia. I'd avoid the wine, though, if I were you. I hear it's Aristacan."
With a firm pat on the shoulder, he passed her by, heading towards the barracks and leaving the Dwarf alone once more. Her time in the Chainbreakers was coming to an end. She wondered to herself what her next move would be.