Jeremiah was still hung over from the previous night’s debauchery. Thankfully; the brightly polished chainmail and the purple tabard seemed to dissuade the populace from commenting on his stumbling through the darkening streets.

“Blazes, how much did you have last night?” Tefolus- one of his two fellow officers muttered from his side. Jeremiah waved the man off and nearly knocked himself over as his heavy boot collided against a misplaced stone in the cobbled street.

In a grunt, he replied; “A lot...” It had been a cause for celebration, after all. Their lengthy shift of boring guard-duty ended as they set that lusty, ragged whore ablaze. Tefolus chuckled in turn and clapped Gunther’s iron pauldron to involve their freshest member in the conversation; “How about you, Gunny? You’ve been awfully quiet all night- you still upset we burned your plaything?”

Gunther looked to his displeasing comrades in turn- less-than-satisfied with the honesty in their bemusement. He nodded; “Can’t help it. Sir Bartholomew kinda fucked me over with claiming her... I only got to fuck her once.” He sighed.

Tefolus clapped the back of Jeremiah’s helmet and almost knocked him off his footing by upsetting his migraine once again. “Well, it wasn’t all for nothing. He told ol’ Jerry that he was impressed with our efforts and sent us out here, after all.” He motioned for the empty streets around them.

As proud as Jeremiah was that he had sent them out to this silent corner of the city, he’d rather not have been given the extraordinary patrol and would rather have slept one of his rare off-days off, in peace. Gerry stopped to look at the dilapidated, wooden buildings beneath the overgrown trees with a frown. “Hey, did he say why we needed to go out here? There’s nuthin’ out here.”

Tefolus shrugged and added; “Not really, no... I’m sure he had a plan. Whatever it is, I’m glad to see him take charge and actually do something around the Garrison.” Criticizing the leadership was a dangerous business- especially in Pilta. Titus would not take kindly to hearing a report of any bad-mouthing of his brother.

Jeremiah sat down on his knees and rubbed his gauntlets against his face with a groan; “Would you two shut up already!? I-” In between his fingers, a swift movement caught his eye. Tefolus had seen it too- the tall, pale, naked woman in the dim illumination of his torch. Glancing sideways; he could see Gerry’s yellow grin stare down the road as he scratched his blood-boiled member and began piecing together the premise of their reward. “I knew Ol’ Barty knew how to party...”

_________________________________________________________________________________

Kester was in a state of perpetual shock. The magical piece of cloth in his hand made him light-headed, but had done wonders in curing his migraine and despite his earlier annoyance at his pale companion, he was now somewhat grateful for having been rudely awoken with a series of slaps and a reminder not to disobey him. With the torch in one of his hands and the cloth in his other, he watched as Asrael hunched down behind a rocky protrusion in the wall and closed his eyes to focus on something further down the tunnel. Kester sat down and took another whiff of the cloth, only to receive a strict warning from his compatriot; “Stop it, you fool! That concoction is meant to anesthetize the-”

A shout sounded from further down the tunnel; “Come back here, you whore! Barty didn’t pay you to exercise us, did he!?” The scruff voice of a man preceded a series of slams of armor. Kester reared his head as a woman appeared between them- a pale, tall, beautiful woman with green eyes and monstrously long... claws...” He blinked several times to verify that the magical cloth’s hallucinations were powerful- far more powerful than his slipping mind. She shook her soft posterior to excite the men further down in the darkness.

“That’s it! Look; she’s lit the place up! You’d better have some blankets ready-” The man’s voice was cut short by a loud, ear-piercing shriek from his companion. “What the fuck is that!?” A roar shook the tunnel a moment before a large, pale mass shot forwards to slide atop one of the guardsmen on the rough stone floor of the abandoned shaft. They came to a halt just short of the necromancer, whose swift hands quickly jutted forth to raise the stumped, panicked guardsman’s visor to thrust the cloth to his face. It only took a moment for him to cease struggling against the large, bald, fat form pinning him to the stone- a moment that the other two used to unsheathe their blades.

“Magi! They’ve got to be magi- aah!” The next man screamed, before a series of loud clangs echoed through the darkness ahead of them. Asrael raised his voice to the inattentive, shaking tavernkeeper; “Snap out of your stupor, you fool! Come!” As if acting on untrained reflexes, honed by naught but the vapors of the cloth; Kester stood to his height and followed after the dark shape of his tavern’s guest, only to stop and gawk at a pair of similarly inhumane women thrashing a pair of terrorized guardsmen about the darkness. Finally; the strong, naked, pale forms raised the near-unconscious men and pressed their breasts to their backs while pinning the misfortunate guardsmen’s arms backwards. Asrael pressed forwards and again thrust the cloth into the man’s face while shouting for Kester to follow suit. “Do it, you halfwit! Do it or I will end you right here!” Stricken by the terror of the prospect of joining the guardsmen’s side in their losing battle; he had little choice but to comply and in turn; press the cloth to the face of the other soldier. His consciousness nearly fully returned before the rag’s effects began to take hold, but when the vapors had concentrated sufficiently in his bloodstream; it was too late. His head slumped forwards- unconscious as could be.

The two women dropped the men from their solid grips and looked to their Master for his orders, whereas he looked to the heavily armored guards with displeasure. “That was... clumsy... painful. I will have to repair their broken bones, but I can accept this result. Next time; you have to be quicker!” He raised an accusatory finger towards the confused tavernkeeper.

“What do you mean next time!? What did we just do- they'll kill us for this!” Asrael’s lips split in a malicious grin- contrasting his previous displeasure to make him seem all the more unhinged.

“This is but the start of our great work, tavernkeeper...”