Uriko's hands moved across the paper with grace as she etched elaborate magical diagrams and complex elvish scripts. She smiled, feeling prideful about her neat and elegant calligraphy. Once the ink had dried, she moved the quill onto the next page and continued transcribing notes into her spellbook. She caught herself nervously licking her own arm, an embarrassing habit she had yet to shake off from her earlier years. She stopped herself, thankful that no one else noticed, and started reading another book.
Another hour passed, and by then she had finished inscribing another ritual into her trusty book. It was an old and worn out thing, with its fading red leather cover and tattered brown pages, but it held great sentimental value. Uriko had always found solace in her reading. Learning about magic, ancient and contemporary, was an endless source of wonder for her. It reminded her of the awesome powers that governed the realm, and inspired her to improve her own druidic magical prowess through diligent practice. She felt inspired to follow in the footsteps of the greats whom had come before her. Her favorite tales were of powerful spellcasters who could shape earth, time, and space on a whim. She had grown up learning about the exploits of countless legendary figures throughout her tutelage with the elves. One day I'll be like them. No, I'll be even greater. She told herself every night.
Uriko stood up to stretch and ease the tension in her body that had accumulated after prolonged sitting. She shut her eyes tightly as respite for her strained eyes, which had grown tired from constantly reading. She then twisted her back side-to-side with a satisfying crack as she took a quick look around the room, and noticed that the environment had changed since the last time she checked.
Some leftover sunlight peaked through the clean spots and broken panels of the tavern windows, filling the room with a warming yellow-orange glow. Must've lost track of time, she thought. It's nearly sundown.
Uriko yawned and took a deep breath. The expected smell of rotting wood and alcohol filled the air like a haze, but she had long since become accustomed to it and didn't care. She noticed that there were several others in the immediate vicinity. A pair of unconscious dwarves laid in the corner, one atop the other, both snoring loudly. There was a quartet of humans were sitting huddled around a circular table, playing cards. To the back of the room, there was a large oak bench that stretched along half the width of the room. Behind it, there were four large shelves displaying a large assortment of various beverages. The bartender Olaf, a fat man with an awkward combover and a bushy mustache, was wiping down some glasses and keeping the place clean, as usual.
It'll be dark soon, she thought. I'll finish the rest tomorrow. She began shuffling her various scattered tomes of magic, folklore, and nature into nicely organized piles. As she began to pack up her belongings into her bag, her eyes fell back upon a particularly interesting passage in her newest book: "Open Grave: Secrets of the Undead." She bit her lip as she internally debated for a moment. After I finish this, she concluded, and she sat back down to resume her work again.
As the light slowly waned over the next several minutes, the door opened again beside her, and she felt the cool breeze of the encroaching twilight brush against her fur, causing her to shudder. Why did I choose to sit so close to the door?
A pair of strangers entered the establishment. One appeared to be human, and had messy black hair that went past his shoulders. This man had pale skin and a slight beard developing around his chin and cheeks. He was clad in fancy-looking chainmail and had a kite shield slung over his back and a flanged mace secured to his hip. The fellow beside him wore tarnished leather armor covered up with a dark green cloak with visible tears in the cloth. Uriko spotted a red and black scaled tail poking out the back of his cloak, and he appeared to have a long snout lined with sharp teeth, almost like an alligator.
The odd couple strode towards the bar bench, and eventually sat down besides each other. They had a look of weariness on their faces, and were constantly looking around, as if suspicious of their surroundings.
"Dragonborn, eh?" Uriko could hear the bartender remarking. "We don't usually have your kind visiting our town."
"That has been made abundantly clear these past few days," the scaly stranger retorted.
"Let's just say we're not exactly good at making friends," the human spoke.
Uriko sat up, feeling a bit parched. She walked over the bartender and waited for her turn to be served.
"What'll you be havin' tonight?" The barkeep asked the duo, gesturing to the unorganized bottles in the shelves behind himself.
"I'll have a bottle of spitfire," the dragonborn stoically grumbled as his chair creaked. Without waiting for a reply, he dropped a sack of silver coins onto the grog-soaked bench. "Keep the change."
The bartender's demeanor instantly lit up. "Very well! Right away, sir!" He quickly pocketed the payment and walked towards the trapdoor. He lifted the wooden slab, descended into the space, and began rummaging his inventory for the requested item.
As he sat there waiting, the dragonborn fidgeted with the leather belt and harness which kept a longsword fastened to his hip. The blade rattled against its hilt, indicating its sup-par craftsmanship. The human leaned closer to him and they began conversing inaudibly.
Uriko, barely three feet away, tired not to make eye contact or eavesdrop on their conversation. But her eyes eventually wandered, and she noticed that the dragonborn was removing some chips of crusted blood from underneath his gnarled claws and nonchalantly flicking them away.
The dragonborn sniffled twice, and then abruptly sneezed. He peered over his shoulder, and his cat-slit reptilian yellow eyes locked with hers.
Uriko awkwardly spun away, breaking eye-contact.
"Here we are!" The bartender proclaimed, breaking the awkward silence. He emerged from beneath the floorboards, lifting a dark amber bottle with a bright red label into the air. "One bottle of spitfire for my number one custom-"
The dragonborn snatched the bottle from his hands, interrupting him. He bit down on the bottleneck, snapping off the entire thing, and spat it out to his side. Shards of broken glass and mashed up cork spewed from his dagger-lined mouth. He then raised the broken bottle up to his lips inverted it downwards into his gullet. Uriko, the bartender, and other nearby patrons continued to stare in bewilderment as the mysterious stranger gulped down the stinging black liquid without pausing.
The dragonborn's companion nonchalantly spoke to the bartender. "I'll have a stout." And he dropped some coins onto the bench.
The bartender retrieved a hollowed-out horn and filled it to the rim with dark brown liquid from a nearby cask. "Enjoy," he said as he handed the overflowing foamy drink to the human. "And what about you, miss?" He asked, finally addressing her.
"Could I have another one of these?" She asked, holding up her empty mug.
"Sure thing, lass." The man poured topped off her mug with more ice-cold milk. He then took a second to mill over the various papers and books strewn about her area. "What's all that, then? Are you one of them scholar folk?"
Uriko lapped up some milk before replying, refreshing herself. "Something like that," she said with a smile. "I'm learning how to cast rituals. One of the hardest ones I've come across is 'Raise Dead.' I can barely decipher the symbols, let alone even begin to cast it." She began to ramble. "Magic that affects life, such as raise dead and true resurrection, are among some of the most difficult magics to perform. Not only are the ritual components exceptionally rare, but the spell also usually poses a significant threat to the caster as well. And to top it off, the whole topic itself is packed with controversy. Many debate whether it should be considered necromancy, and that all usages of the spell should be strictly limited. In fact, this ritual is so difficult to perform that it usually only performed by ordained members of the clergy or by accredited spellcasters."
The bartender continued to nod, slowly backing away. "That sounds fascinating, lady."
"Thanks for the drinks, barkeep! Keep them coming!" Uriko said with a friendly wink. She then rushed back to her studies with utmost urgency.
Another hour passed swiftly. Uriko, who had initially planned to sleep earlier this night, had finished reading an additional two books, and had transcripted several new spells. The sun had long set, but the nearby array of swaying candles offered some illumination. Uriko began to doze off from time to time. Maybe I should turn in now? She thought. "Just one more," she murmured under her breath. She looked up from the book, clearing her blurring vision, and noticed that dragonborn and his companion were still drinking. They had accumulated a massive pile of empty bottles, glasses, and mugs atop the bench where they sat.
"Don't you think you've had enough?" The bartender asked with a look of concern. "I'm worried you'll drop dead at any second," he said half-jokingly.
"I'll decide when I've had enough," the scaly man snapped back.
"I can still see, so I'm nowhere near finished yet," his human companion slurred.
The bartender rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say," he replied as he filled another pair of steins with frothy amber liquid.
Uriko's sensitive ears perked up for a second. Despite her sleep-deprived mind, Uriko's keen senses were still able to detect the faintest sound from the outside: an alarming scraping of metal. Blades were being drawn. The double door beside her abruptly flew open, making a thunderous clatter as it slammed against the nearby wall. The resultant wind knocked over her half-filled cup, spilling the contents over some of her books. "Hey, what gives?" She let out in frustration.
Within seconds, five burly, grizzled men entered the establishment. They all wore grey wolf pelt garments, save for some brown leather boots and gloves. They had scowls etched across their faces as they scanned the room, searching for someone. Their eyes centered upon the human and dragonborn duo by the bar.
"You!" One of them called out. He was a taller man than the others. He had a bulky, muscular build with thick limbs and broad shoulders. His head was topped with black hair left in a twisted and unkempt fashion. And most noticeably his face was covered with bruises and swollen, bloodied flesh.
The two companions ignored him.
"Don't you ignore me, you-"
Uriko interrupted him, her annoyance boiling over. "Well, that was rude!" She had just finished tidying up her workspace, and was now glaring straight at them. "Who enters a bar like that?! Were you raised by wolves or something?"
The leader pointed a single finger at her in a threatening manner, "You shut your whore mouth, bitch, or I'll make you swallow your own teeth." The ruffian then turned back to the duo and, with an accomplice at both sides, began advancing on them.
His fourth and firth associates remained by the door, keeping lookout.
Uriko clenched her clawed fists as the hairs all along her body began to stand on end. Don't you turn your back on me. She reached into a her pocket and pulled out a single, small, pristine red rose with the thorny stalk still intact.
"Look, fellas, if you two have a problem with one another, please take it outside," the bartender pleaded, backing away to a safer corner.
"You two owe me some money, you goddamn cheat! No one takes a beating like that with nothing to show for it!" He had a large hunting knife clutched tightly in his right hand. His pace increased as he continued towards the unmoving pair.
Uriko stepped forward and chanted a quick incantation. She could feel the magical energy coursing through her veins, amplified by her rage, as she reached her right hand forward. Druidic magic poured from her hand and into the rose, causing it to grow and extend at a supernatural rate. It morphed into a massive vine adorned with vibrant green leaves and covered with thorns, reached outward several yards, and wrapped itself around the thug's shoulder. The initial attack ensnared him and stopped his advance in his tracks. Uriko immediately followed up and yanked the rude man backwards with all of her might. He flipped over once in the air and landed loudly in a painful, contorted heap. The green whip released its grasp and slipped away like a serpent, stopping as it gently wrapped itself around her arm and rested.
The brutish man quickly recovered, stood up, and turned to face her. His massive build dwarfed hers, and his square jaw was clenched in an intense grimace as he stared her down. He fumed as he reared his left fist backwards and threw it at her face with a wild swing.
With cat-like grace and elegance, Uriko nimbly contorted her slender frame and narrowly dodged the blow. She appeared on the other side of his arm, poised towards his back.
His overzealous swing and subsequent miss caused the attacker to lose his balance.
Uriko glided over to the man's exposed left side. She bared her right hand, which sported five sharpened claws. And with a single downward arc of her palm, slammed his face downward into the earth, knocking him out cold.
"Learn some manners," Uriko quipped as she cracked her fur-covered knuckles. Her palm was slightly stinging from the impact.
All the bandits in the tavern stood frozen in bewilderment for a few brief moments. They then broke out of their stunned silence and drew their weapons. One brandished a gnarled axe, and the other clutched a spiked club. The two closest to her each sported a pair of jagged, rusted daggers.
"You'll pay for that, you mangy cunt!" The bandit beside the door who was closest to Uriko dashed towards her. His ally fell suit, not speaking.
Uriko felt a slight chill when she had realized what she had done. She dropped her stance and started backing away, her arms raised ready to defend herself further. There was hint of excitement mingled with the fear of the impending battle, which caused her to slightly grin.
"Come here, you!" One of the riffians rushed up to meet her, his teeth bared like a feral dog. The flickering candlelight gleamed off the clean streaks on his poorly-kept blade.
Unexpectedly, as Uriko braced herself to defend against her nearest foe, a glass sailed into her periphery before contacting with the side of the man's head and shattering into several jagged shards. The attack immediately interrupted his attack, and he was knocked sideways before he could reach her. Blood began to drip down the side of his head as he clutched his head in pain.
Uriko turned to face whomever threw the glass, and saw that the man at the bar had arisen and was retracting his left arm. He had one of the bandits held in a chokehold with his right arm. He maintained his grip with ease, despite the bandit's fervent struggles.
The other thug closest to the bar was now lying in the fetal position, painfully grasping his stomach. The skid marks on the earth indicated that he has been knocked back several feet. The dragonborn walked coolly past his incapacitated foe and began muttering something guttural.
Distracted by the shock, Uriko failed to notice that the other doorman had gotten within arms reach of her. From the corner of her eye, she could only watch helplessly as he descended upon her with blade in hand.
As a follow-up, the dragonborn entered a wide stance as a shining blue tether wreathed in sparks poured out from his palm. With one decisive outstretch of his arm, the lightning whip flew towards the doorman and ensnared him by the throat.
The knife stopped within an inch from Uriko's forehead, and she shifted back in recoil. It would have impaled her face if the dragonborn had not intervened.
The dragonborn then gave the vibrant crackling whip a sharp yank and the bandit subsequently spun towards him and landed painfully face-first in the dirt, twitching from the remntant electrical energy surging through his body.
The doorman with the bloodied forehead recomposed himself and turned to face Uriko, eager for another chance to hurt her.
Uriko did not give him time to recover. She dropped onto one knee, slammed her rose vine covered hand into the ground, and immediately casted another spell. Let's see if this works, she thought, hopeful.
Her enchantment was thankfully successful. The vines left her body and began to change form yet again. They grew outward across the ground in a pattern akin to a spider's web. They surged toward the bandit's legs and latched onto the bottom of his boots. The tendrils of rapidly growing vines started to move upward and around his body, constricting more tightly as they enveloped him. In mere seconds, the bandit's entire body had been completely encased in ensnaring greenery. The thorns dug into his flesh whenever he struggled, drawing blood.
Uriko shook her head twice to alleviate the light-headed feeling she had acquired from the ordeal. She was still getting accustomed to casting combative druidic magic, and had never strained herself this intensely before. But despite her waning physical strength, she briefly paused to revel at what she had accomplished under pressure. "Wait here until the city watch comes for you," she taunted the imprisoned bandit as she stood back up.
The unnamed human slammed the bandit he was grappling with face-first into the wooden bench with a cacophonous sound. The bandit crumbled in an unconscious heap at the base of the bar, his face covered with fresh blood.
The electrocuted bandit attempted to rise from the dirt, but the twitching spurred by the dragonborn's lightning attack prevented him from securing stable footing. As he fumbled with his steps, the dragonborn slowly walked towards him, cracking his neck. In abject terror, the weakened bandit began to reach for a secondary weapon; a knife that he had kept hidden behind his left hip.
"Are you sure you want to do that?" Uriko heard the dragonborn's voice clearly for the first time, and he spoke with a deep, gravelly voice. He drew his longsword and held it to the man's throat. "I wouldn't kill an unarmed man," he warned, taunting him with tip. "I suggest you remain that way, unless you are keen to die tonight."
The bandit's eyes welled up with tears as he sat trembling on the floor. A steady pool began to collect underneath his crossed legs.
Bullies, and cowards. Uriko thought. Figures.
At this point, the bartender was livid. "All of you," he beckoned to Uriko, the dragonborn, and the human. "Get out of here!" He gestured to them towards the exit. "I don't want any of your trouble!"
"But we-" Uriko began to protest, but her words were cut off.
"Help me!" The lone, conscious, and entangled bandit let out a desperate cry as he painfully writed in Uriko's cage of thorns, "We need backup! Kill them all!" He continued to shout.
Beyond the veil of the bar's oak double doors, Uriko could hear more steel being drawn. Others were coming.
Uriko began backing away from the door, aligning herself between the double doors and the dragonborn and human duo. "What do we do now?" She asked, growing increasingly anxious.
The human brandished his shield and mace. "We have no choice. We'll have to fight our way out." He seemed unconcerned.
The doors were violently kicked apart again. This time, the leftmost door fell off its rusted hinges and collapsed onto the floor in a clatter. An additional eight brutes entered the establishment, this time armed with swords, and clad much more well-kept leather armor.
Bodyguards. But who were they protecting?
The mercenaries pointed their blades at the ragtag trio and began marching in unison towards them. From the way they advanced, Uriko could discern that they were much more coordinated and trained than the previous lot.
Uriko continued to back away towards the bar-side of the room, moving away from them in fear. She felt magically diminished and exhausted; she could not cast for combat anymore.
The encroaching marauders were now within ten feet of the trio, their sharp swords jutting towards them.
"Relax, we'll handle this," the dragonborn addressed Uriko directly for the first time. "Get behind-" His words were violently cut off as he let out a thunderous agonized roar.
Uriko spun around to investigate the startling sound. She gasped in horror at what she saw. As they were distracted, the leader from before had regained consciousness, dragged himself over to the dragonborn's side undetected, and sunk his great knife into his scaly back.
Blood dripped down the length of the dragonborn's armor and onto the floor. He dropped his sword and turned towards his assailant as both arms seized the bandit by the throat. They both loudly struggled for a moment, and bandit managed to reach around and twisted the knife.
The dragonborn roared again in pain, and seized the bandit's forearm with his right hand as his left hand continued to constrict the bandit's throat.
Uriko could feel her hairs perk up all around her body, as if she had recently rubbed up against wool. The feeling of the air had changed. What's happening?
"Attack!" The swordsmen trumpeted as they finally broke formation and charged.
The dragonborn flexed his right arm, causing the bandit's elbow to bend sickeningly in the opposite direction with a muffled pop. The man attempted to cry out, but was only able to squeeze out a pitiful whimper as his throat was held tightly shut.
The dragonborn spun his head around towards Uriko's direction, staring past her. His mouth was stretched wide open, and she could see sparks forming deep within his throat. Streaks of blue began to arc out from his gullet.
"Get down!" The unnamed man charged into Uriko's without warning, knocking her to the ground and partially draping his body over hers.
The abrupt landing knocked the wind from her lungs. She instinctively raised both arms to shield herself.
The armed mob was now directly upon them both, and she was helpless on the floor as they swung their swords.
Without warning, a wall of brilliant blue crackling energy slammed against the approaching bandits, launching them backwards with blinding speed. A vortex of lighting had somehow materialized and was sweeping away the mob like a savage wind. The remaining ruffians, along with various strewn about objects, sailed through the air and slammed into various pieces of furniture and scenery as lightning cascaded all across their bodies. Some stray dancing sparks arced towards Uriko and struck her in the back, painfully zapping her. A blinding light engulfed the entire room, and she shielded her eyes from the blast. Finally, there was a conclusive and deafening thunderclap, followed by the intermittent sounds of collapsing wood, stone, and bodies.
Uriko coughed loudly as she shoved off the stranger. "Get off!" She hissed as she arose. She waved the layer of sawdust off of her body and squinted into the dimly lit area, attempting to find her way through. As the dust swirled all around her, Uriko could barely see five feet in front of her own face. Chips of wood scattered from her hair as she traipsed through the miasma. Her fur had been puffed up by the same lightning energy that had just devastated the room. What in the hell was that? she thought, irritated. She shook her entire body, releasing more debris that had clung onto her fur. I've never seen magic like that before, she thought. Up to now she had mostly dedicated her magic to manipulating plant matter, which was a useful utility throughout her earlier years. But she had never seen a lightning breath up close before. The idea intrigued, and simultaneously frightened her.
As she reached the former entrance to the tavern, her jaw dropped at the sheer destruction she witnessed.
The remnants of the double doors, along with a large portion of the adjacent walls had been torn to pieces by the magnificent burst of lightning. Chunks of shattered wood and glass had been spilled onto the street outside, along with the unmoving bodies of their former enemies. Some remnant sparks danced around the air, clinging to any metallic objects in the vicinity.
Uriko turned around, and could see the faintest outline of the dragonborn's bulky frame from within the settling dust cloud. She could also make out the silhouette of a second figure. She slowly approached him, curious to learn more. Uriko kept her arms outstretched to aid in her navigation and prevent her from bumping into anything.
The dust finally parted for her to see clearly.
The dragonborn was standing tall, with both clawed hands tightly grasping the bandit leader's throat. He pinned his helpless foe against the cracked and drink-soaked bench. There were remnant sparks dancing inside his gaping fang-filled maw, a supposed aftereffect of using his dragon's breath ability. Up close, the dragonborn was a fearsome looking individual. The massive knife was still sticking out of his back, causing a steady stream of crimson to pour down his armor.
The dragonborn's clawed hand tightened around his victim's throat, making the helpless foe let out a desperate gag.
Uriko felt an eerie chill crawl up her spine. The sounds the man made were disturbing, but she was unable to look away.
The thug attempted to struggle, and weakly reached from the knife, in a desperate attempt to make the lizard-man release him. But his grip was ironclad. He began to awkwardly flail about pathetically.
The dragonborn effortlessly lifted the hapless thug up to his feet as he continued to strangle him. He lifted him up further, until his feet were no longer touching the ground.
Uriko could feel her heart pounding in her ears. Time and everything around her slowed to a crawl.
By now, the thug's eyes had rolled over, and his face was turning purple as throbbing veins were etched across his forehead. A steady stream of drool began to pour from his twitching mouth.
Two other figures emerged from out of the dust cloud, flanking Uriko from her right and left side. They appeared to be two tall, tan-skinned women in guard's uniforms. They were yelling something indiscernible to her, but she paid them no heed. They also aimed their spears at the dragonborn and yelled commands, but he did not respond or acknowledge them either.
"Don't do it!"
"Let him go!"
"You should've let me be," the dragonborn whispered as he stared down at his doomed victim with fiery eyes.
Uriko flinched as a meaty crunch echoed throughout the room. The dragonborn finally dropped the bandit leader. His body landed onto its knees, almost as if he were still alive. The head bobbed sickeningly side to side from the draft, until at last, it bent all the way backwards, bringing the rest of the body crumpling to the earth.
The dragonborn reached behind his own back and, with a painful wince through gritted teeth, pulled the blade out of his back. His eyes begin to glaze over, possibly from the rapid blood loss. His stabbed the knife into a nearby bar stool and began shambling towards Uriko.
The two guards immediately rushed towards the dragonborn and set upon him with a series of blows, knocking him into the dirt. He did not resist as they continued their relentless assault on his unmoving body. He gazed into Uriko's eyes and never broke his concentration. Eventually he was knocked out cold by a spear's wooden shaft. The other proceeded to attach chained hand restraints onto the unconscious dragonborn's limp wrists.
Uriko looked back across the demolished, bar, and noticed that the mail-clad warrior had also been apprehended. "You are an accomplice of a grievous crime! The charge is murder, and you will be brought to justice!" One guard barked into his ear as they wrestled him into the ground.
Within seconds, the nameless human had both hands secured behind his back and was struggling to explain himself. "We were defending ourselves!" A gauntleted fist to the gut shut him up.
Behind her, Uriko could hear the coordinated footsteps of several more guards approaching the scene in response to the explosion. Barely a minute had passed before a squad of steel-clad footsoldiers appeared at the gaping entrance of the tavern.
Abruptly, one of the guards immediately moved up to Uriko. "Are you hurt?" He asked in a booming voice, causing her to instinctively flinch.
"No, no," she started. "I'm completely fine," she started. "I'm-"
Her words were cut off by a shrill, panicked voice. "It's all her fault this happened!" It was Olaf, the bartender. His face was caked with sawdust and sweat, and he was pointing at her accusingly. "She started the fight by attacking their leader! It's all her fault!" He repeated, almost hysterical.
A second guard appeared from behind Uriko, uncomfortably close to her. "Is that true?" The voice asked as hot breath wafted against her nape. "Are you responsible for this carnage?"
"It's true!" One of the other bar patrons cried out. The mob had turned against her.
"No!" She immediately replied. "Of course not! They attacked me first! I-" She stopped herself when as she began to recollect what had just occurred. "Well, technically no," she sheepishly started over. "But I was just defending myself, and-" She started fumbling with her words, and her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment.
"I want you, that scaly bastard, and his friend to pay for the damages you have caused me!" The bartender shrieked. He started breathing very rapidly and flailing his short, stubby arm in a flustered manner.
"All, right I've heard enough," a third guard said as she seized Uriko's arm.
Uriko began to resist. "Wait! It wasn't my fault!" She started to squirm away, but another pair of hands seized her. This time, they grabbed her shoulder and gripped tightly. Uriko instinctively bit down on the back of the hand, drawing copper-tasting red liquid.
The guard released her hold and exclaimed, "Ow! You bitch!" She reared her other hand back in a fist, and in a flash of light, caused Uriko to see stars.
