Checking snares. Gathering herbs and mushrooms. Looking for signs of more dangerous beasts. Such was the life of Dead-Eye Zaskanella, slayer of an archdemon, now Bane of Bunnies. Oh, how far the mighty had fallen. Zaska smiled to herself at this thought. If this easy life was what passed for being fallen, she didn't intend to be getting back up anytime soon.
The crimson-skinned tiefling woman was neither tall nor short, tending toward a thin, athletic frame. Her studded leathers had been dyed earthy greens and browns in great swatches, a matching cloak limply flapping around her ankles in the still air. Zaska's dark, ridged horns jutted back and up from her forehead over tomboyishly short black hair. Her left horn was broken off about halfway up, capped with steel.
Zaska had a dozen dead rabbits and squirrels hanging from a wooden pole. Her pack had a menagerie of herbs hanging from straps or sticking out of pouches. She could move as naturally through the forest as any of the creatures born there if she wished, but stealth was not her aim at the moment. It had been a bountiful day, and now it was time to go reap the benefits of it.
When one heard the name of the town of Humble, it gave them a certain mental image. It didn't quite fit the name. About one-thousand people lived in Humble, with a transient population about equal to that on any given day. Proper stone buildings with wooden shingles filled the spaces between gridded streets.
The really spectacular thing about Humble was the view. It was a seaside burg, sitting atop a cliff that was dozens of feet up from the surf. Beyond the cliff were the calm waters of Sylrissa's Arms; two giant, arcing strips of land that reached away from the continent and formed a natural harbor. It was in this harbor the people of Humble lowered themselves down each day to cast their nets, set their crab pots, and harvest the abundant kelp. Ships also came in to dock within the Arms, their crews riding lifts up to the town. A wooden palisade of sharpened stakes formed a semicircle to protect Humble where the steepness of the cliffs did not.
Zaska entered Humble, joining with the modest evening crowd of sailors and travelers. Most were human, but as she passed by two goliaths escorting a yuan-ti merchant, the tiefling did not worry about standing out too much.
"...I 'eard Fyfe killed five-'undred o' them demons all by 'imself", one goliath was saying.
"P'shah! Errybody knows Fyfe Sun-Blessed could kill one-thousand in 'is sleep!" The other goliath argued.
It was only fifty. Zaska thought to herself as she passed them by.
Luckily, the butcher was still open. Zaska found the dwarf that ran the place outside, cleaning carcasses to be sold to folks looking for a good supper. He was smiling, humming to himself.
"Hail, mydame. Fine brace you got there", the portly dwarf said, indicating the tiefling's kills.
"There yours for the right price, mysir", Zaska replied, taking the pole off her shoulder. And setting it on the table before the butcher. While the dwarf took a look at the rabbits and squirrels, Zaska said further, "everyone seems in good spirits around here."
"And I should damn well think so. Didn't you hear the news? Fyfe's Four killed Myrthikas! Saved the whole damn kingdom, they did" The dwarf exclaimed, throwing hands about excitedly. Zaska politely ignored the blood droplets that got on her armor.
"Just four people killed the Blight of the West?" Zaska asked
"Sure as Pelor burns bright, they did. Fyfe Sun-Blessed, Petra of Arcanix, Urzo Merkodak, and Dead-Eye Zaska. Took Myrthikas and his army of demons straight back to the Abyss", the dwarf looked incredulous. "Where have you been that you haven't heard?"
The image of the ramshackle army that had followed them entered Zaska's mind; mercenaries, bandits, pirates, a few rogue wizards, even a tribe of firbolg barbarians. Most hadn't made it. That they'd been forgotten was a shame, whatever they might have been before the battle. They were all heroes, probably even more so than Fyfe's Four.
"I've been out in the forest. Rabbits aren't the best source of gossip, sadly." Zaska explained with a frown.
"Heh, s'pose that's fair", the dwarf let it go.
After getting her money and stowing her things in her lodgings, Zaska decided the best thing she could do was have a drink. The memory of the fallen was not one so easily shaken, but she knew one place in Humble where she might find a bit of peace.
The Blunt Halberd was raucous even from the outside. It was a three story coaching house, currently packed to bursting with fishermen, sailors, and travellers. It was well and properly nighttime now.
Just like that. Zaska could hear Fyfe saying in her mind. When this is all over, I'm going to buy myself a tavern just like that. You'll all drink for free. Except for you, Urzo.
Zaska grinned in spite of herself as she pushed her way into the Blunt Halberd. Things like decor and cleanliness weren't high priorities in places like the Halberd. It was dim but cozy, a pall of tobacco smoke hanging over everything like the harbor's morning mist. Groups of people clustered at tables or stood against the wall. Arms were around shoulders, voices were raised in laughter and debate. A halfling bard was singing a jaunty song in one corner:
Don't worry, all my comrades, I'll tell ye what we'll do
The king's men may be many, and we rebels may be few
We'll send an owl to Konstan to meet us at Fraenart
And then we'll have a jolly good ride in Konstan's four-wheeled cart
As Zaska made for the bar, she noticed one table in particular. An elf, a human, a halfling, and a minotaur, were gathered around a map in the center. Their equipment was telling; simple chainmail or robes, plain but sturdy weapons. The elf had a modest wooden holy symbol of Correlon around his neck. New adventurers, they were, sure as the Hells were hot. With a blink, Zaska saw herself there with an aasimar, an orc, and a half-drow; young, untested, hot under the collar with a chip on their collective shoulders. Gods. That had been ten years ago, hadn't it?
Upon reaching the bar and squeezing into a spot, Zaska was approached by a stout, aging human woman who was currently cleaning a dirty mug with a dirtier rag.
"What medicine can I pour, you, darling?" The barkeep asked with a lopsided grin.
"Whatever's cheap", Zaska said. She reached into her bag of holding, past golden trinkets of ancient civilizations, potions that could cure the gravest wounds, and a longbow crafted of red-marbled obsidian that thrummed to the touch. The tiefling's fingers brushed aside a plain golden ring to grab two coppers, then place them on the bar.
A pint that could have been ale, ogre spit, manticore urine, or some combination of the three was placed before Zaska. The tiefling took a drink. It was terrible. Gods, it was so wonderfully terrible.
"Not to your liking?" The barkeep asked innocently.
Zaska smiled, saying. "It's perfect. Thank you."
The barkeep nodded. She queried. "Then why the long face? If you don't mind my asking."
"I drank a lot of pints just like this, in a lot of taverns like yours, with some friends of mine the past few years", Zaska explained, idly fiddling with her mug. "They're alive, but we went our separate ways. Times like this make me feel like they're here with me, yet remind me they aren't. One of them told me I'd probably find him in a place like this.
The barkeep nodded in a knowing way. "Friends like that don't stay apart. The gods don't let such things die, you mark those words, dear."
"I will gladly do so." Zaska replied, trying to be sincere, but her heart wasn't fully in it. It was a nice thought. Zaska hoped it was true. When the tiefling had parted ways from Fyfe's Four, she had cited her desire to be alone, as she had before they'd come together. As joyous revelry and fellowship was engaged all around her, Zaska decided she still quite liked being alone, but she had no fondness at all for being lonely.
The barkeep moved on, still needing to serve a full establishment, leaving Zaska to her thoughts. She drank slowly. The halfling bard intruded upon Zaska's thoughts, singing a mournful song she realized she had heard a few times before.
"Come away with me, my darling dear
For the stars are bright and far above
Come away with me, we'll go along
And we'll outshine them with our love
Come away with me, don't be afraid
We will be at home in any land
Come away with me, right by my side
My love, my joy, please take my hand"
It went on, but Zaska didn't listen anymore. She lifted her head, eagerly looking around the Blunt Halberd. There was only one person who was sappy and soft-hearted enough to request that song in the middle of a tavern full of hardasses like this. The tiefling's eyes scanned the crowd back and forth, watching the roughly cut patrons swaying with the music, some of them teary-eyed, some blubbering and wiping their noses. Gods. How did that always happen? It really did never change, did it?
Zaska felt her heart sink as she realized her quarry was not here. Her hunt would continue. The tiefling sat down and sighed, looking down the bar for the one doling out the drinks. Zaska was going to need something stronger. The barkeep, it turned out, was already setting a drink down in front of a blonde-haired patron who had his eyes closed. The patron was in plate armor, apparently too into the music to register the mug in front of him. The barkeep snapped her fingers to get his attention and the patron opened his eyes to reveal they were solid blue, like cut sapphires.
Zaska got up. She worked her way through the crowd until she was standing behind the blue-eyed man. A two-handed morningstar, its head crafted to resemble a radiant sun, was hung across the man's back. How did nobody recognize him? Or Zaska, for that matter? Were Fyfe's Four just some ephemeral thing now; a blessed phrase with a substance that was accepted but not understood? The tiefling hoped that might be the case. Anonymity was always her preference.
As gently as if he might dissipate into thin air, Zaska tapped his left pauldrons with her fingernail.
"Mm? Sorry, can I hel-...?" Fyfe Sun-Blessed, paladin of Pelor, started to say. When he locked eyes with Zaska, however, his words died on his lips.
There was an awkward silence as they stared at each other. He had not changed in the slightest. A long, thin scar crossed from Fyfe's right forehead all the way down to his left jaw. Zaska remembered the sahuagin chieftain that had caused the scar.
Fyfe almost fell off of his stool as Zaska threw her arms around him and pulled the aasimar close.
"For someone who wanted to be alone, you sure do seem happy to see me", Fyfe took note with a chuckle as his arms circled around Zaska's back.
Zaska put her hands on his shoulders and leaned back, saying, "are you complaining?"
"Far from it", Fyfe replied, a dazzling smile splitting his face.
Zaska felt a swooping sensation in her gut, all the words she'd left unsaid piling up against her vocal cords and fighting to be the foremost spoken. All those late nights keeping watch together. All that traveling, fighting, laughing, crying...what it had forged wasn't so easily broken.
"What are you doing in Humble?" Fyfe broke the silence, making enough room for Zaska to stand next to him at the bar.
"I've been moving east", Zaska answered, steeling herself. Now wasn't the time to back down again. "Looking for a tavern you might have bought."
The aasimar quirked his head to the side, a curious half-grin on his face. "A tavern that I might buy?"
"Yes. Because that would mean you might be in it. I've been looking for you, alright?" Zaska said, her crimson cheeks turning something closer to maroon. "Have you paid for that drink?"
"Y-yes, why?" Fyfe responded, apparently still processing what he'd heard.
"Good. Then c'mon", Zaska demanded, taking the paladin by the wrist and hauling him out of the Bent Halberd.
The two adventurers ended up out in the street, heading for the harbor. Fyfe was right on Zaska's heels. Confused as he might have been, the paladin was silently trusting her, just as he had trusted her through countless trap-filled dungeon halls.
"Have you heard from Urzo and Petra?" Zaska queried to fill the silence while she arranged her thoughts.
"I have. Urzo went back to the Stone Tusk tribe. Last I heard they made him chieftain. And Petra's last letter said she'd already been kicked out of the College of Magecraft in Apex." Fyfe laughed at the latter point.
"That's six. She's going to run out of schools", Zaska said with a good-natured roll of the eyes. The half-drow wizard had always...pushed boundaries, to put it lightly.
Zaska stopped walking when the two of them had finally reached the cliffs overlooking Humble's harbor. It was a clear, crisp night. The moon and stars both danced upon the choppy surface of the water.
"Wow", Fyfe breathed as he came to the cliff beside Zaska. "Lost cities and ancient treasure vaults are all well and good but I could get used to a view like this."
"We saw a lot of those. I've only seen one of these", Zaska commented, her hands sweeping before her to follow the path of Sylrissa's arms.
"Yeah. This doesn't have nearly as many wights or wyverns, either", Fyfe noted, looking askance at Zaska. "So. You came this way looking for me."
Right.
"Yes. I did." Zaska confirmed, fighting the urge to curl in on herself in shyness. "Because I realized I didn't actually want to be alone again. I wanted to be left alone. Left alone by the kings and lords and high priests who need their lands saved from every lich and ancient dragon that scratches its ass the wrong way...", the tiefling let out a flustered sigh.
"But…?" Fyfe prompted.
"But not by you", Zaska said, feeling a stone settle into her gut as the words finally got put out there. "I missed you. I missed you so damn much."
Silence. The waves lapped against the base of the cliff below. The wind whistled in from the sea. Zaska felt like she might have an apoplexy right then and there waiting for his reply. Finally, the tiefling risked looking over.
Fyfe was looking at her.
He was crying.
"Oh, gods, I'm so sorry", Zaska hurriedly muttered. She produced a kerchief from her bag of holding. Instead of offering it to him, Zaska stepped forward, dabbing at the paladin's cheeks.
"I never thought I'd hear you say something like that", Fyfe whispered, his voice tight. "I'd hoped but I always figured it was just a stupid dream of mine."
Zaska giggled, beginning to feel emotional herself as the reality began setting in. How long had the two of them been travelling together and feeling this way, only to say nothing? "I'd call you an idiot for not saying anything, but I'm in that same boat. So here we are. Two silent, pining idiots in the same stupid dream boat."
Fyfe laughed in return. Gently, he took Zaska's right hand away from his face, enclosing it with both of his. The tiefling's heart did a couple of backflips at this. She looked into those teary sapphire eyes and decided she wouldn't mind if she got lost in them and never came back out.
"You want to know why I was coming west?" Fyfe asked.
"Looking for a tavern to buy?" Zaska guessed.
"No. Well, kind of. It was on the list", Fyfe admitted. "First on the list was because I knew you'd come this direction. I half expected you to punch me for bothering you after you said you wanted to be alone again."
"I can still do that if you want", the tiefling offered. Fyfe had been coming this way to look for her. Was it getting warm outside all of a sudden?
"You may have to. That might be the only way I'm convinced I'm not dreaming right now." Fyfe said, bashfully looking down at his boots.
"Well, you aren't. This is real." Zaska found some momentum and refused to let it go. "Maybe we couldn't say what we felt back then, but that doesn't matter anymore. You've been my friend and comrade for a long time, but the longer I've thought about it, the more I've realized I don't just want to be friends."
Fyfe's grip grew a bit more firm around Zaska's hand, a silent agreement. His mouth opened and moved a couple of times, but he seemed to be at a loss for words.
"A nod if you agree will do just fine", Zaska assured him.
They both laughed as Fyfe gave a several emphatic nods.
"I've been a hunter for a long time, Fyfe", Zaska said as her free left hand sank into her bag of holding. "I never let my quarry get away once they're in my sights."
"There was that one time that warlock you were chasing got away in Starklay…", Fyfe recalled.
Zaska set her jaw, tilting her head to the side, more out of embarrassment of herself than Fyfe's words. That damned fruit stand had rolled out into the street at exactly the wrong time during the chase...
"...that we of course found hanged in a tree a week later, so technically you didn't let him get away", Fyfe amended. "I'll stop ruining the mood now."
"Far from ruining anything, you've reminded me that you'll keep me humble. Appropriate, given where we are right now", Zaska forgave him. The ranger's hand finally closed around something in her bag of holding, so she drew it out. "As I was saying, now that I have my prey in front of me, it's time for me to set the snare."
With that, Zaska dropped to one knee. Fyfe released the tiefling's right hand from his own as she opened up her left palm and revealed a ring sitting there; a plain band of gold.
"In hindsight, the hunting analogy made this entire proposal a lot weirder than I intended, but regardless; Fyfe, will you marry me?" Zaska asked, her voice wavering as she finally popped the question.
Fyfe was crying again, but that was alright because Zaska was, too. She probably should have saved that for after hearing his answer.
"Hope you like it here because I was going to start negotiating with the lady in the Blunt Halberd to take the tavern off her hands when we got back", Fyfe said between sniffles.
"Is that a yes?" Zaska asked, her anticipation growing to the point where she might just throw herself off the cliff.
"That's definitely a yes", Fyfe assured her. The aasimar didn't even give Zaska time to slip the ring onto his finger. He'd already pulled her up to standing, drawn her close, and kissed her.
It was a sweet, soft, timeless moment. They weren't Dead-Eye Zaskanella and Fyfe Sun-Blessed, heroes of several kingdoms. They were just two people who had both found their way home at long last.
Zaska pulled away just a little, still resting her forehead against Fyfe's. She murmured, "you want me to threaten that barkeep with an arrow through the foot so she'll lower the price for you, my love?"
Smiling from ear to ear, Fyfe replied, "let's try things my way, first. The arrows can come later.
They left the cliff, walking hand in hand back toward the tavern. It would become a walk the two of them would make quite often for years to come, including the day of their wedding a month later.