While Elan, Roy, Haley, and Durkon overloaded the telepathic bond with comedic misunderstandings, dry quips, banter, directions, and dramatic realizations, Belkar and Vaarsuvius worked, silently, smoothly.
The rhythm was divine.
Belkar: Feather fall. Knife. Jump.
Vaarsuvius: Fly overhead. Tag partially concealed enemies with magic missiles (which couldn't miss) so the murderous halfling could sense their presence and attack.
"Ppshhh–glllt!"
"Zzsspp–gharrr!"
"Phhzzu–bhpbluh!"
Occasionally V would toss a gust of wind, dispelling the fog so that Belkar could take down a handful at a time.
FWOOshhhh.
"Arg—fuu-–oyy–shii–zzsupp–nauu!"
Belkar glared up at Vaarsuvius. Smoke was all that remained of an enemy who had been sneaking up on Belkar—an enemy who Belkar was totally getting around to taking down.
[Kill steal] he murmured telepathically as the rest of the Order jabbered over him.
[Pardon me] came the low, gentle reply.
This was as unpretentious and apologetic as V had ever acted towards Belkar before. There was a time when Belkar and Vaarsuvius had a highly contentious relationship and constantly snuck swipes at each other.
But since the battle at the Final Dungeon, the resolution of the Snarl, the gates, ascending goblinkind and postponing the end of the world(s), team morale was at an all time peak. Zero casualties. The Order of the Stick, their animal companions, and friendly named NPCs had all survived.
Only one random encounter stood between the party and a huge victory celebration in the city.
Belkar soared and his stomach (whole body, really) flipped. He loved, loved trash mobs. Loved killing them. Piling their bodies. Loved the feeling of the weak morning sun, the dew kissed, fog chilled, blood of his enemies slick grass,
Splllllchhhhh~
just feeling powerful and being strong, weightless, and free. It was a beautiful day to be a winner.
Belkar corkscrewed and sent an enemy's head towards Vaarsuvius in a slow, easy arc. Pop fly.
[Catch]
Vaarsuvius caught the head and smirked. They grokked the mood. The next time Belkar leapt away from a swath of enemies, they returned it (much less skillfully, Belkar noticed). But it was a friendly volley. No words, telepathic or otherwise, were needed to explain.
Belkar threw the head upwards with all his might and jumped at Vaarsuvius, prompting them to catch him. Vaarsuvius zoomed him higher, higher, spiraling around the still ascending head, Vaarsuvius sending down a lightning bolt to help Roy and the others as Belkar concentrated on his game.
He sensed a burst of indignation from Vaarsuvius when he launched himself from their arms, jumping to close the distance between himself and their improvised toy.
"YES!" he shouted euphorically as he caught it, tumbling from the sky.
[Look, everyone] Haley's voice cooed in their heads. [Belkar and Vaarsuvius are friends. Isn't it heartwarming?]
[I guess, for those who consider playing with decapitated heads, "heartwarming"]
[Relax, Roy. Goblinkind rose to sentience as humanoids and potential player characters, sure. But our world still needs dumb, monstrous bad guys for good guys to kill in a morally black and white way, gain XP, and not have to think about it. I guess the gods must have made these little friends–ow–for heroes like us to–ow–and–ow! I mean, gain exp–please stop biting me–erience]
[Elan… how could you possibly know all that?]
[For one, they're just called 'enemies.' If we were meant to empathize with them, they'd have more characteristics. They're just nothing. Speechless. Generic. Is this a good segway into acknowledging the medium shift?]
[Let's focus up—]
[Since there's no visuals, I need all the fans reading this fiction to imagine me wearing a really cool—]
[Durkon, can you cast—]
[—Aye, but what aboot—]
[—interdimensional cloak that I got inside the Snarl—]
[—Roy, a little help with—]
[—EVERYONE IN THE AIR MOVE WHEN I SAY—]
[—and it's sparkly!]
