Swish!
Cutting down another Shadow Monster, Svarog put back his axe to his back, dragging aside the debris to a corner. "My lords, do not deign to cut down the path yourselves – let us lowly folk do it, for we do not want to get the hands of our saviours dirty..."
With a smile wider than Cox's Bazaar, Svarog clasped his hands, bowing down in subservience: the Guild master had specifically told them to treat them as if they were their ancestors!
Svarog and the rest had heard of many stories in the past of how arrogant heroes were: he did not want to repeat the experience of how 'lesser' folks were treated back then! Heck, considering the folk tales of where they were used as bait, this was a hundred, no, a hundred hundred times better than what he had imagined! Not to mention the bizarre weapon the old man was using...
Whirr!
With another swing from his chainsword, Knoxis lopped off the head of a shadow Killamantis, its two pincer-like arms still twitching as its life ebbed away. Just as he was about to head towards the Gold-tiered adventurers, he whipped his head, barely dodging the stray bullet being fired at him. "Oy, you nearly got your head yanked by that bitch in the air!"
His mouth as foul as usual, Scarmond couldn't help but quip at the old man's lack of attention, hands gripped on the PLB 6969 Bazinga. Heh, got the old man good this time-
Well, that shattered quickly
"Thanks for the free service then, I suppose..."
Mouth curled up in a slight smirk, Knoxis continued his onslaught, hand twirling the chainsword against the (possibly gay) Drewlin inching closer up to his behind. "Man, what would I do if I didn't have someone catching all the strays for me..."
Okay, now you're taking it too far!
Grinding his titanium-alloy teeth to the point of ignition, Scaramond huffed in anger before stomping his feet and launching himself into the air, where he began deploying Concussion V homing missiles at the shadowy harpies that were circling the skies. God damn old man! Thinks he's soooo smart and strong...
Resisting the urge to kick the old man in his balls (Man, what are his balls made out of!? I still have two spherical dents on my previous leg segment, and they're were made of Adamantite plates! - A certain interstellar cowboy who still has a 250-year loan for 24K Adamantite plates), Scaramond lifted his miniaturised homing bazooka, aiming it right at the face of the stroke-worthy face of the flying hag.
"Say hello to my little friend!"
Kaboom!
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Sitting in front of the campfire, Knoxis was busy whittling a small wooden statue using a piece of dry wood he found on the side. Hearing crackling noises coming from behind him, he stopped what he was doing, and laid down the green pocket-knife. "So, what'd you find?"
"Nothing much, same old, same old: the usual 'glitches' that occur whenever I try to make them do things that are not part of their routines, such as trying to make a dumpy warrior do belly-dancing using his sword, or trying to ask an archer to do simple calculations such as what is 9+10 (And it's not 21 - Pissed-off Author who had way too many jokes of this kind).
See, they always start stuttering on the spot, or become way too blocky whenever they try something new. Now, this was weird enough for us to warrant an official investigation by the BOR, but I still don't get it:
Why did Aphuno send us here then?
And no, don't try to weasel yourself out of this one like you usually do- I mean, have you seen what happened to poor Kyrkz? Last time I checked, he was not some sort of drooling 'Mr. Hyde" (and yes, I do like detective stories). So spill it old man:
What on Aeronia is going on here?"
Near the end, Scaramond was close to spitting on the face of Knoxis, face red in raging anger.
For the next few seconds, the woods grew quiet, as it finally dawned on Scaramond what he had done. Face pale, he sat shakily into a nearby log, face clutched in his hands. "L-look old man, I-I'm sorry for what I did now. I, I don't know what came over me, I was just-"
"Just expressing your anger. Yes, I know. Been there, done that."
It was then that Scaramond's eyes fell upon the sculpture that was being whittled on the old man's hands:
A fat, pompous bastard, surrounded by what appears to be women on all sides, knawing on a stick of meat
Setting aside the unfinished carving, Knoxis turned his dull, brown eyes upon the prancing dick that was Scaramond. "I know more than you that this type of shit should be handled by the Investiqution, but from the missions that the old git Aphuno always gives, it can be seen that this has more to the eye than seen. So for now, keep your trap shut, and play along with the 'Hero Vs. Demon King' charade. Once we reach the so-called 'Valley of Silence', perhaps we can get an inkling of what on earth is going on in this dastardly planet..."
Finishing his sentence, Knoxis stood up from his log, dusting off whatever chips lay on his faded cotton jeans, before heading back to rejoin the (surprisingly) boisterous group...
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In the silent wind, the small carving stood there for a brief moment, untouched, unsullied, unfinished.
Suddenly, it began dissolving
Pixel by pixel, from the base, it began disintegrating, dissipating into the air, until all that remained were two logs, still warm from the faded-out campfire...