The rain didn't seem to want to let up anytime soon, but after the recent events in the Bond-space, none of us felt like working on kill codes, slavery bonds, or trying to bend magic in ways never seen before in this world. It was, however, a very good chance to test something Elyra had been working on for a while now: her invisibility spell, put to the test in the easier scenario of a world blurred by the rain and shrouded by the lingering mists that it caused.
Ted's message through the guild token came at the perfect time. The token beeped, and we were informed that Brigitte was ready to meet us outside the city, away from prying eyes and the chaos of Perseverance's End, so that we could have a chat and get to know each other. To see if we would be a good fit before committing to a long journey together.
She loved the rain.
She loved the freedom that it gave her.
She loved the connection it made her feel to a world that seemed to have forsaken her and the other Races.
She reached the rendezvous point with ease, her expertise with the terrain outside Perseverance's End allowing her to use her skills to the fullest, eating the ground in great strides while never losing sight of the monsters, the dangers and the treacherous terrain all around. Her green cloak flapped around her, and she tightened the leather belt around her waist, feeling the moist air touch her skin, carrying the fragrance of the vibrant life of the forest.
It was in moments like these that she truly felt like a Wood Elf of old, like the people of the stories and legends, before civilization was reduced to barbaric bastions clinging to a bare existence, where people still pretended to be high and mighty in the face of a world that had clearly moved on without them.
She felt the System sputter and churn below the surface of her magic, trying to prompt a skill level up as she traveled the land. She expected to see the usual message, telling her that there wasn't enough energy to even grant her the level up anymore, let alone to allow her to choose a new boon to complement her kit. She had looked far and wide, and there were alchemists and mages and witches who claimed to be able to commune with magic itself without the need of the System, so that they could bypass this annoying lack of energy. So far, though, when push came to shove, nothing worked save for the good old usual method of using monster cores.
She had a few stashed around in a special spatial pouch enchanted so as not to broadcast to every thief, pickpocket and lesser being the sheer amount of money she carried inside in crystallized form. But those cores were for special occasions, or for emergencies.
She knew that her [Ground Strider 13] skill was not one such thing. It was a useful skill, but that was that.
When the message came, she almost dismissed it in a mechanical, annoyed flick of the eyes. But then her mind registered the change.
Congratulations. You have reached level 14 in [Ground Strider].
What the hells was going on? She swallowed, feeling a strange lump in her throat. Was the System… breaking down or what? She should have been happy, but everyone these days preached that the end of times would come once the System ran out of energy and yet here it was, handing out boons to her without an apparent reason, wasting energy on a useless skill! On her!
She refocused. If the System wanted to favor her, then so be it. She would take it as a good omen for the upcoming job she had yet to accept, about escorting a party of…
She had no idea what to think of them, honestly. Her brother hated them, and perhaps that had been what really convinced her to at least hear them out when Ted fucking Groutfok approached her with the job. Straight through the TLC too, no guild involved.
Three-Letter Club jobs were the best. They paid well, they offered great opportunities, and she loved how mad they made her brother every time she took one. This one though…?
When she arrived at the clearing, she was happy to see that she was the first one there. Of course, she always made it a habit of being first at these kinds of first meetings, which she demanded every single time so that she could get a read of her potential clients before accepting onerous and dangerous jobs.
Being first allowed her to see the reaction of her clients to seeing her, perhaps the only genuine peek into their being before their rational mind took over and began weaving its schemes.
It also let her scout the area to find escape routes, potential traps, monsters and hiding spots. You never know, with these people, and in the past it paid to be paranoid, more than Brigitte liked to admit.
The rain eased a little bit.
Touching the guild token, she checked the time and leaned against a tree, pretending to be chilling without a care in the world. The rain soaked her clothes and hair, her blonde locks twisting in wavy curls that cascaded down her back and made her look wild and untamed. Just how she liked to think of herself, despite her 'station'.
She snorted without even noticing at the thought, but her mind didn't have time to linger on her gut reaction because in the distance, she saw movement. A man was approaching, but it wasn't he who gave Brigitte pause. There were two girls with him. One was innocuous-looking enough, she thought. She couldn't see her well yet, but she looked like a pretty little thing clad in green, which the elf approved—green was the best color. She was shyly holding the man's hand as she leaned against him, easily two heads shorter than he was.
The other girl, though. Brigitte swallowed the immediate sense of danger. She was twice as tall as the man. Muscular. Alien. Almost monstrous, yet carrying a strange allure to her. Actually, the more she looked the more the woman did not seem monstrous at all. She was hot! And dangerous.
Brigitte found herself gawking at the sight, as the strange woman walked with casual ease behind the man that was going to be her client, should she accept the job.
She was a fucking dragon, she thought. A dragon-kin, at least. She saw the scales now, washed by the rain, and the massive, powerful tail. Then she recognized the body language and realized that it was much like hers, pretending to be relaxed and yet scanning her surroundings, muscles coiled and ready to dish out a monstrous amount of power should the need arise.
She amended all her thoughts about this woman. She was a slave, of course, she had to be. But she was also… so, so attractive. Brigitte had no idea where her client got her but, she'd be damned if she didn't at least try to steal her. She didn't need slaves. In fact, she loathed the whole idea of slaves. Especially when it came to consumption and classes.
But it was akin to saying she hated the world, wasn't it? And she could not say such things, not even to a man Ted ensured her would blow her mind with his revolutionary ideas. Sure. As if.
Better to just dream of stealing away that dragon woman and freeing her somewhere deep in the mountain. Better to dream than to try and fail again. She was sure her brother wouldn't save her sorry ass this time.
Shaking herself from her thoughts, Brigitte made a move to approach the trio, wanting to maintain the feeling of control. However, their gaze was not on her. Were they—?
Then he appeared. From where the three were staring, a volume of forest Brigitte had thought empty and that her many skills had confirmed to be empty, emerged… her fucking brother.
"There you are!" Fredrick shouted over the rushing sound of the torrential downpour, the rain having intensified as if reading their changed mood. He made no effort to even acknowledge her, instead putting himself between her and the man, talking to him directly. "You and two of your fucking weirdos. Where are the others? Did you finally consume them, got their power for yourself?"
"Fredrick Slyzarik," the man said calmly, although Brigitte could feel an undercurrent of distaste in his voice. "I don't believe we have business with you, but with her."
Then he looked at her. Their eyes met for a split-second, but it was enough to make her shiver as if the cold of the rain had suddenly seeped into her bones. It went as quickly as it came, as the man's face melted into an easy smile that replaced the scowl he reserved for her brother.
She understood where he came from. Hells, she wanted to scowl at her idiot brother just as hard. How did he even manage to follow her unseen and undetected? And for what? To mess with her work? Her source of income? To scare away her clients?
No. There was something more. He and her clients knew each other. Perhaps Ted was right in saying that this man was a revolutionary. If anything, for openly standing up against her brother!
Just as she thought that, the man ignored her brother and took a step towards her, extending his hand. "Sol Nightguard, a pleasure to meet you," he said. "Despite the weird circumstances, that is," he chuckled while her brother fumed. "I believe you are to be our guide to the sea?"
She took the proffered hand and they shook. "If we like each other," she said cautiously.
And, she thought. If the circumstances haven't already blown the whole deal. Then she realized she was squeezing his hand rather hard, her inner turmoil affecting her more than she thought, her brother once again messing with her fucking life. But the man, Sol, seemed unaffected. He simply smiled at her, meeting her with equal and opposite force as the handshake lingered beyond its initial welcome.
Brigitte was aware of her brother watching them with a sneer of outrage plastered on his face. He was indeed fuming, as if the rain reached his elegant Chasmer-style cowl and simply evaporated into mist. His jaw was so tense she half-expected to hear his teeth crack under the pressure.
Looking at Sol, he snapped. "Don't you fucking dare ignore me."
He said that while putting a hand on the man's shoulder and squeezing.
From behind Sol, the dragon woman loomed like a death sentence. "You have one second to remove that hand," she said.
Fredrick was all smiles as he defiantly met her gaze. "I was simply greeting an old friend! Don't you remember me, from the tea house?"
"Oh, I quite remember the tea house," the dragon-kin woman said. "But you are but a sad smear of gunk in an otherwise idyllic memory. Do you remember Sol, my love, what we did after the asshole finally left?"
Brigitte paused. My love…? Is she…? But it couldn't be. She was a proud dragon if she had ever seen one. That was, until she talked to what Brigitte still assumed was her master. But then again, it could be slavery magic at work there, even though she could not detect any. Just like she could not detect her own brother, after all.
Fredrick was fuming. The dragon woman's comment—from a slave—got a rise out of him. He made to punch, and Brigitte was ready to intervene, to do… she didn't even know what. Her brother outmatched her, outmatched anyone really, save for the most powerful of adventurers. But those people were on his payroll anyway, so what did it matter?
She saw the fist traveling in slow motion, and yet her legs failed to carry her forward despite her protests. This was still her brother, dammit, and while she could throw a tantrum afterwards, what could she do to intervene? Fuck. Proof time and time again that her life wasn't really her own.
Sol was calm. The dragon woman behind him did nothing.
He simply raised his hand to meet the fist, and caught it.
What?
He stopped it in place, staring Fredrick in the eye.
Brigitte gawked. Their stats were, at the very least, close enough that they could pull something like this. No. Her instincts screamed at her. Sol was not pretending. The rain was not hiding his shakes or his sweat. His smile was not strained.
The same could not be said about her brother. He had been pulled in a contest of strength and he was losing.
This would force him to escalate. She couldn't have that.
"Brother!" she shouted. "What the fuck do you think you are doing?"
His smile was brittle. "Shut the fuck up, little sister. I am doing what I must."
Sol chuckled, looking at her. "By what he must, he means he's channeling magic." Then his smile turned glacial.
Pressure from behind. Brigitte turned and saw a woman at the edge of the clearing. She could do nothing but stare in awe at the sight. She had heard about her, but seeing her in person? Those wings. That halo!
And the pressure of the magic circle right in front of said halo. She had heard the stories. Of what happened during the beast tide.
Then a flicker of movement. Another woman, claws of billowing darkness millimeters away from Fredrick's throat.
"Stop casting immediately, elfboy, or I will paint my lover with your blood and then lick it all up with my tongue, tasting your death on his skin while I suck his cock."
Brigitte's brain struggled to come to terms with what she just heard. But perhaps even more surprisingly, her brother retreated. Snarling, struggling, cursing Sol to hells and heavens, promising retribution, slaughter, pain and misery, but he took careful steps away from the man and then turned tail and fled, disappearing into the forest, vanishing from sight both mundane and magical.
Except, Brigitte could see the angel woman's eyes tracking something as it got away from them. She could see him, she realized. And they had not been able to see her in turn.
"Do it," she heard Sol say.
And then the halo brightened and the magic circle flared and a beam of red light erupted and rain turned to steam and the forest exploded and and and…
Fuck. Who were these people?
"Did… you just kill my brother?" Brigitte found herself asking.
Sol shrugged. "The laser grazed his leg, but he's not even limping. I sure hope he pissed himself, though."
Then he was calm and relaxed. "Well, with that out of the way, let's introduce ourselves again. I'm Sol, and these are my girls. Vespera, Elyra over there, Calla here and the big strong dragon is Zery."
"Brigitte Slyzarik," she said, trying to pull herself together enough to at least appear dignified. It was her brother's presence that always fucked up her composure, she told herself. The rest? Just another Tuesday for an adventurer.
Even though it wasn't really true. More like a Friday. Or Saturday?
Yeah, let's pretend it's Saturday. I could go for a round or three or ten of cheap booze to forget all of this.