Reverie: The Lord's Tower

"I understand why you might be against it, because of your family; but you need to use at least a few utility spells," Gemma whispered.

Rolling his eyes, Ezekiel gently moved the branches of the bush they were hiding behind, looking out on the camp of bandits they'd been hired to clear out. Gemma made an annoyed sound and did the same, quietly saying, "Looks like they're getting ready to bed down for the night."

On a mountain plateau, miles from the nearest village, the pair of mercenaries prepared for what they hoped would be a short night of work, though they were suspicious of how smooth things had been going so far.

One of the bandits, a lookout presumably, gave the all clear and the campfires went out, lanterns dimmed and tired scumbags fell into their tents and bedrolls. 

Several minutes passed by before Gemma's fingers began moving in the strange patterns that Ezekiel was so familiar with, the patterns of magic and mystery, used in varying amounts all around the world.

The air around the lookout's head suddenly disappeared and he fell to his knees as he began to suffocate. She moved her hand again and the air around the torch fled as well, and the torch went out with no oxygen to keep the flame lit.

His last moments were of pure confusion and silence.

Pulling out her sword, Gemma brandished the simple weapon with practiced grace, bringing it up to a stance she'd developed herself, one for stealth rather than war, and within seconds she had moved silently to the closest tent, silencing another life.

Ezekiel shook his head and followed suit, opting for one of his daggers rather than a sword. The work would be faster and easier, not to mention that there'd be less mess to deal with afterward.

Gemma was married to her craft, wife and mistress to the blade, and had no eyes for anyone or anything else. 

She practically danced from place to place, carving a bloody path through the bandits as they worked deep into the night.

All in all, two hours of near perfect silent killing in total darkness with no mistakes or complications and they'd get the second half of their pay when they returned to the village with the bandit leader's head.

It was grim work, but it had to be done.

As she finished removing the old man's head, she grunted as Ezekiel entered the grandiose central tent, wondering aloud if they should take anything of value from the camp.

"We're mercenaries, Ezekiel, not grave robbers; besides, its bad luck to steal from the dead," she said in a stern tone.

He snorted, the closest to a laugh he'd come in ages, as she started laughing and said, "Could you IMAGINE? I saw a couple of chests near the main campfire, go take a look and see what you can find."

Shaking his head with a smile, Ezekiel left her to her butchery and wandered over to the darkened fire, and upon seeing the two chests, kicked the lid of the one closest to him open.

Something about the chest was…off to him.

He couldn't place it, but it didn't seem like the kind of chest that bandits would use. Generally, they would steal one, rather than make one…but this chest was clearly hand made, and not very well.

What kind of bandit would steal a chest made of trash?

The lid was still creaking from his kick as he turned and relit the fire to get a better look when he heard it.

A rasping hiss.

"Lizardfolk," he said quietly.

Gemma was already kneeling beside him as he started to put the fire out and she asked, "Where?"

The hissing continued, the indecipherable tongue of the monsterfolk rasping over in what was clearly some amount of distress.

"Think they'd pay us extra for a Lizardfolk head," he asked quietly while he scanned the area.

Where there was one monster, there were inevitably dozens, and he had no interest in being ambushed after such a successful night of work.

She shook her head and pointed at something he'd missed, long claw marks over by the edge of the cliff.

"I think I might be starting to understand why they were so cagey about giving us details about the bandits," she said, the stern edge in her voice carrying real steel this time.

It happened from time to time, and nobody wanted to admit it, were willing to pay to hide it.

A monster nest pops up and a group of fighters get together to deal with it. Maybe they win…maybe they lose…but the survivors realize that they don't necessarily need to do things the way everyone else does.

Work a job.

 Pay for a home.

Live in a society.

Why go to all the effort when you're strong enough to kill monsters?

Sometimes these groups wander from nest to nest, killing and collecting rewards…but sometimes they start hunting different prey.

"From the village, you think," Ezekiel asked.

"Definitely," she answered, a deep exhaustion filling her voice.

"What do we do?"

"Collect our fee and move on with our lives," she said, "the details are largely irrelevant, as far as I'm concerned. We were hired to kill bandits, and we killed bandits. Let their foolishness weigh on them on their own time."

Nodding, Ezekiel finally found the source of the hissing, and felt a wave of sickness hit his stomach.

The Lizardfolk had been tortured, badly, for a long time, with long ragged scars criss-crossing its face and chest.

Its eyes had been cut out, leaving scarred sockets where they had rested prior.

The monster had been here for months, that much was clear, but how was that possible when the bandits had only been active for a few weeks?

Just as he began to come to conclusions, Gemma said, "Don't even think about it. If you're feeling merciful, kill it, but we're not out to start a crusade against some nowhere town."

Sighing hard, Ezekiel walked over to the monster, lifted his dagger and with a quick motion, ended its life before the blinded creature could even register he was there.