Book of Mors: Summoned

Arc: Getting a Soul Weapon

Chapter 21, Part 3: Bar Fight

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Letting out a sigh, Mors followed the rest of the group as they walked through a walled enclosure, designed to stall attackers if they made it past the wooden gatehouse, and into the densely packed town.

For all its fame, Mors was disappointed with Ashsqua, feeling that it was a step backwards if compared to the places he had seen since arriving in Acoria. Little did he know, that the Frozen Citadel of the Ice Demons and the Wolf's Den were on a scale that would make even the Empire's Emperor green with envy and was almost considered national landmarks in their own right.

The roads and pathways of Ashsqua were formed with compact dirt while most of the buildings were made from wood, the exception being any that dealt with flammable substances.

Surrounding the edges of the buildings, poorly constructed stalls, selling everything from produce to weapons and armour, buzzed as people haggled for the best deals or got the latest gossip.

Even though it was busy, Verz's group moved through the crowd like a hot knife through butter, people almost falling over in their attempt to get out of the way of the masked Huntsmen and to avoid drawing their attention.

The adepts looked around in awe. Unlike Mors, they had been training for three years at the Wolf's Den, and this was the first time since, that they had been let out. All of them, even Bruce, was keen to do a little shopping and interact with, what they considered, normal civilians.

Mors, on the other hand, was trying not to vomit in his mask. Since evolving, his senses had been on overdrive.

Huntsmen prided themselves on not having a scent, mainly due to their stealth abilities, and he felt comfortable with natural smells having spent most of his time in woodland, but the pungent, acidic smelling humanoids running around the town were almost too much for him. Not to mention the amount of noise they were making.

More than once, the draconic demon stumbled as he struggled with the relentless bombardment to his senses.

Eventually, the pain in his head dulled and he began to taking steadying breaths and meditate as he walked. Something he recalled from a fragmented memory, limiting his external senses as he focused inwards.

Feeling an odd sensation, Velcea looked back, her white mask hiding her expression, before turning back and leading them to the centre of the town with a renewed sense of purpose after muttering something to Verz.

After five minutes of walking, the group reached what appeared to be a market square, and without pause, Velcea marched into an inn. The squeaking sign of a drunken goblin dancing hanging above the door.

"It's filthy in here," said Alice in disgust, however, her comment was ignored by everyone, including Verz, as they turned to look at Mors when he left out a loud sigh of relief and leant heavily against a wooden pillar trying to catch his breath. Though it wasn't exactly the most hygienic place, at least Mors' senses were only picking up on dozens of stimuli and not the hundreds out in the street enabling him to quickly recover.

A few men, slumped against a dank bar as waitresses carried simple meals, mainly meat and potatoes, to tables.

"HO, Captain. Long time no see. The usual?" bellowed a pudgy bartender, the rolls of fat in his chin jiggling as he spoke. "Grab a seat, and I'll get you guys sorted."

"Thanks, Teak," responded Verz as she waved in an offhand manner, moving towards a table and sitting down. The rest of her group followed while the adepts moved towards the only other free table, located in the corner, noticing there were not enough chairs or space with their seniors.

Once Verz, Kelora, Rock and Velcea had sat down, Mors moved over and stood nearby, leaning against a wall as his head rotated in an almost unnatural manner, scanning everything in the room.

Shaking her head, Verz let out a small chuckle. "Mors, go sit with your team."

"They are not my team so-" Mors' words were cut off as the pair stared at each other, the fur on Verz's ears standing on end.

Seconds ticked past before Rock started chuckling, his mouth half open as he was about to make a bet before getting death glares from Kelora and Velcea.

A deep growl, barely audible emanated from Mors as his eyes momentarily glowed red before he looked away and started walking towards the adepts table.

Verz laughed, the sound as gentle as a summer's breeze, while her silver, predatory eyes watched the demon shuffle away. "That's right."

Rock snorted as he put his arms on the table in anticipation of retaliation for his next words. "He's a draconic demon, not a pup Captain, I don't think going alpha on him is going to work."

Kelora's chest contracted, making it look like she was having difficulty breathing as she tried not to laugh or join in.

"Pfft, sure it does," replied Verz as she leant back, shocking everyone but Velcea by not getting angry at Rocks hidden suggestion. "The little idiot has been getting too full of himself lately though. Stopped trying to attack vital areas during our training and even held back a few times. Like he could actually hurt me."

Kelora leant forward, her demeanour changing instantly. "What? He's lost the will to kill?"

Letting out a sigh, Verz shook her head. "Nope, if anything that part of him is getting worse. He just won't attack me like he wants to kill me, no matter how hard I push him. It has pretty much stalled his progression."

"Maybe he realises he can't win and has given up," suggested Rock, "that or~"

Rock stopped, knowing there was a line on what could be said without serious consequences, at least for himself.

Two Elven waitresses appear next to the table and place four plates, with matching tankards, onto the table before giving a small bow and walking away.

Kelora, who hasn't moved since she leant forward, spoke in a hushed tone. "As a mate or familial?"

Rock sighed, rolling his eyes, as Verz' eyes locked on the demoness like an angry lioness who had just found someone pulling her tail.

Verz leant towards Kelora, who's red eyes sparkled with mischief. "I think a particular little demoness is feeling left out and wants some one on one training with their Captain."

*Bang*

The group turned their heads as one, looking towards the corner that the adepts were, spotting a overturned table and Mors towering over a small, blonde girl.

Verz sighed, feeling like she had been doing that a lot recently, and stood up.

Kelora could only snigger. "Wow, you trained him well, not even twenty minutes in town and he already picked a fight with the only person in town he shouldn't... Seems he takes after his mother."

Verz glared at Kelora, causing the demoness to snort as she barely contained her laughter and Rock to join in. Velcea however, glared at her lover. "I will not share."

Verz's steps faulted as she turned back to the dark elf, who suddenly started laughing and waved off her statement as a joke. "Go, save the pup before he gets himself killed."

Verz body tensed before she turned and started walking again.

Rock chuckled. "I think we are going to regret this."

"Damn straight you are," mumbled Verz, her keen ears still in range, as she stomped towards the scene as the inn's other patrons backed from, or moved towards, the impending fight.

A few minutes earlier...

Bruce sat down slowly in his chair, rubbing his hands together. "I can't wait to get some decent grub."

"We had 'decent' food a couple of hours ago," said Alice as she walked behind him, trailing her arm across his shoulders before taking her own seat. "You and the bottomless pit you call a stomach."

"Man's gotta eat," said Alex as he took his seat. "Anyway, any idea why we are here? Also, why is the command squad here? I thought they only head out together if the shit hits the wind mage."

Claire fidgeted as she claimed the seat next to Alice. "Maybe it has something to do with Mors. He was on the Eastern Front as an adept and has been training with the Captain for months. I wonder how strong he is now? Recon he's cute under the mask?"

Alice hissed as her sister's elbow hit her in the side. "I doubt it, and even if he was, who cares, he is a demon and, through tricks and deception, he stole the initiation rewards from Bruce. With those tokens, we could have eaten like Kings for years"

Bruce snorted. "He got lucky. Even with his evolution and all the training in the world, he wouldn't be able to repeat that stunt."

Alex slumped forward. "You would be surprised. I heard that not only has he got personal training from the captain, but the reason he evolved so quickly was that they have been given him the best of everything. Spared no expense."

"Who told you that?" said Trent, a mocking smile on his face. "Making stuff up again to seem in the loop?"

"Got a friend in the Undercity. Said that Lieutenant Kelora was training him and he even stayed with her instead of the barracks," responded Alex dryly, clearly irritated that his friend tried to call him out.

"Incoming," said Alice, her voice barely above a hiss.

Mors walked over, pulling a wooden chair out before sitting on it.

Bruce and Alice stiffened while Alex and Trent barely managed to resist the urge to ask Mors if he slept in the same room as Kelora. The tips of their ears going red as their minds started to wander.

The awkward silence was broken by Claire, who stood so she could reach, holding out her hand to Mors. "Hey Mors. We haven't really had a chance to introduce ourselves yet. My name's Claire, its a pleasure to meet you."

"Sure," grumbled Mors as he leant back in his chair, ignoring the outstretched hand.

"So, how was the Eastern front? I heard we lost a few people, but news has been pretty quiet," Claire didn't seem bothered by Mors' reaction and sat down.

Mors' body tensed momentarily before he relaxed. "Can't say, Captain's orders."

"Oh, OK," Claire looked to the others, hoping they would help with the conversation only to see they were looking anywhere but her.

As if to help the struggling Lamia, who was biting her bottom lip, the waitresses appeared and delivered their meals with along with a tankard for all of them apart from Mors.

"Urg, Ale," complained Alice. "Why can't we get some wine?"

Bruce chuckled, noticing Mors' lack of drink and deciding that he was being punished for something. "I doubt a place like this would serve wine."

The other adepts tapped their masks at the chin and the area around where their mouths should be distorted, enabling them to eat without removing them.

"Can't wait until we get on the road and can lose the masks," sighed Alex.

"You and me both," declared Trent as he held up his tankard for the other elf to clank.

"Where's your drink Mors?" asked Claire, thinking the waitresses had forgotten about him.

Bruce chuckled again.

Mors' eyes locked onto Claire for a moment, deciding if he should bother answering, before nodding his head towards the approaching waitress. "On its way."

A small, clear glass, half filled with a light brown liquid was placed in front of him.

"When did you ask for that?" questioned Alex, only to be ignored. "We had an option other than swill?"

Mimicking the action that the adepts had done, Mors' mask pulled back enough to allow him to drink.

"Well look what the wolf dragged in." A haughty voice emanated from a small, blonde haired girl, surrounded on each side by two guards, behind them.

Looking at the masks facing her, the girl frowned. “Don't you know it's rude not to offer an open seat to a young lady such as myself?”

Mors snorted but said nothing, seemingly enjoying his drink.

"Sorry, we don't have space for you and your friends," responded Bruce, as he turned back to his food and continued to eat.

“That's fine, they can stand,” gleefully replied the girl as she sat down in the empty seat, between Trent and Mors.

Introducing herself as Ariel, the youngest daughter of the region's Duchess and mayor of the town, Ariel began to question the other adepts about everyday Huntsmen life.

A Duchess was a powerhouse that was, at least on paper, was even stronger than their captain. So much so that they always managed a region or district in the capital. As Ariel mentioned her mother was the mayor of Ashsqua, the region was more than likely meant Flatner so the Adepts, were overly polite. Well all of them excluding Mors who continued to ignore her and the group, rocking on his chair and slowly sipping his drink, a small smile on his lips.

He had smelt the familiar scent of a drink her vaguely remembered enjoying, and so as the others headed to their tables, he quickly placed an order. His only regret was that the one drink nearly bankrupted him, having not had any means to acquire money other than from collecting it from the dead.

"So, Mr dark and mysterious, what's your story?" Ariel turned her head towards Mors, tilting it slightly in an attempt to be cute.

"It's one where I ignore those that use illusions to get their twisted kicks," Mors' mouth, visible through the hole in his mask, twisted into a smile.

The adepts froze, but instead of looking hurt, Ariel's dark green eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Oh, you dare talk to me like that?"

"You insulted my intelligence first, did you not?" Mors' head tilted, mocking the girls earlier behaviour. "Who Rocks up to a table uninvited, pretending to be something they aren't and starts asking people about their lives?"

The dark green eyes narrowed. "Interesting. What are you and how did you know?"

“Complicated,” responded Mors.

"Which question?" The childish tone dropped from Ariel's voice as it took a sharp edge.

Mors shrugged, finishing his drink. "Both."

"Hmm, not too smart. If you even had a clue who I am you-"

"Honestly, I don't give a flying fuck who you are. Go play dress up somewhere else," growled Mors, not letting the girl finish her threat.

Claire stood and tried to calm the situation. "Hey now, there's no need to be like-"

“Are you a Pathfinder Adept?” Ariel ignored everything else as she focused on the the man in front of her, her fingernails digging into the table without resistance.

“Nope, travelling saint of the church of shut the fuck up and leave me alone. I guess you have never heard of us as you are still here," responded Mors.

Her right eye twitching, Ariel took a deep breath. "Look, brat. I am trying to be nice."

"Look hag, so am I." A red mist started seeping from the eye slits on Mors' mask. He was losing his patience, just like the woman in front of him.

“Oh I see, you must be an orphan as obviously you didn't have parents to teach you any manners. I guess even the Pathfinders will take in strays like you. With no family and no possibility of ever being of any value to anyone or anything, it's an honour for you to be used as cannon fodder. Luckily no one will miss you.”

Mors responded with just a shrug.

The lack of response caused the girls face to twist in anger, as her two guards paled and started to back away. Obviously, she wasn't used to people treating her like this and the guards were more scared of her than the teens at the table.

“I wonder if your parents are dead or if they just abandoned you. If it's the former, they must be spinning in their graves and begging forgiveness to the Mother of Life, if the later they must be counting their blessings for dodging such a spell.”

Bruce chuckled as the twins stared at Ariel in shock.

Normally insulting huntsmen was a sure way to earn a few scars, but due to her background, the others were not stupid and decided to let the insult slide. However, they all watched Mors, his short, explosive temper being legendary, but against all their thoughts, he didn't attack.

The elves shifted their chairs backwards as if preparing to run, their complexion matching the guards. Due to their innate abilities, they had a pretty good idea of how dangerous someone was by their movements and small signs that they could pick up on. Both Ariel and Mors screamed danger.

Mors sniggered. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me... Especially when they are from the mouth of an old hag trying to look like a teenage bimbo. I wonder, do you pretending to be a brat or are you so god damn ugly, that you are trying to make up for your shitty youth?"

*Bang*

Flipping over the table, Ariel stood up, along with Mors as he felt her mana surge and a cold smile appeared under his mask as it reformed.