Idar was on the outskirts of a village called Bleck. He stepped through a thicket of bushes, and suddenly he could see his destination. The locals called it Buttock Cave. At first he thought it was a cheeky joke, but now he could see the reason behind the name. There were two massive boulders on both sides of cavemouth.

“Majestic,” he thought aloud and took the last few strides up to the entrance.

Idar had come to Buttock Cave in pursuit of a creature named Kepheus. Idar’s father, Arvid, had tasked him and a handful of other angels to hunt down Kepheus and the remainder of the the Dawn-sons. These are the guys who nearly wiped out all of mortal life when they suddenly appeared back in the day’s before kings, so, you know, kind of a big deal. Idar treated the threat with the respect he felt it deserved and drew his hammer before mockingly shouting down the cave.

“Oh Kepheus! Come out to play!”

His voice echoed down into oblivion and he nonchalantly stepped into the but-shaped burrow. A damp smell exuded from the rocks and began to turn pungent, like sewage, the further in he went.

“This better be mud I’m stepping in,” Idar called out through the cavern.

As the last glimmer of light faded from the cavemouth, Idar held out a torchstone. A marvelous devise the mortals had enchanted to create light. He gave it a flick with his writ and suddenly the dark tunnel was filled with a soft white glow. With the new luminance came new realization.

“This is not mud.”

Buttock Cave was living up to its reputation, but Idar had his own reputation to uphold. He was the son of Arvid, the greatest adventure among all the angels, renown among all peoples and across all lands. Name recognition was both a blessing and a curse in the game of heroes he was playing. Sure, everyone was more likely to pay attention to him and what he was doing, but on the other hand, everyone was more likely to pay attention to him and what he was doing. He couldn’t be seen fleeing from danger. So he pressed onward to where he would eventually find Kepheus and face… his decapitated corpse.

“Damn it, Gary!” Idar called out as he kicked the cadaver at the end of the tunnel. He was too late.

Idar sat down on the enormous chest of the Dawn-son and held his chin like a pouting toddler in time out. With Kepheus gone there couldn’t be more than five Dawn-sons left to slay. And that was assuming his information was up to date. So far, Idar had hunted down only six Dawn-sons. The first one flew away before he had the chance to do anything, and he hadn’t heard anything about it since. One had nearly killed him before he was saved by his sister, Vimia. Twice, Gary had shown up out of nowhere and stollen his kill. He absolutely destroyed the next one by smashing its skull so thoroughly that he had to take its wings as proof of the kill. And the most recent one, as well as Kepheus, he had found already dead with the words, “Too Slow,” sprawled on the walls, signed Gary.

Fucking Gary! The son of Greg! The tailor!

Idar wasn’t willing to let this type of insult stand any longer. He marched back out of the cave, returned through the thicket, and stomped his way into the nearest pub in Bleck. Heads turned as Idar crossed the threshold. There was no way for the people of Bleck to know he was an angel or an adventurer, so he announced himself loudly so the mortals would know he deserved their full attention.

The bar tender interrupted his speech and called him over to the bar.

“Welcome, Son of Arvid,” he said with a tone of sarcasm that was lost on Idar. “It’s a true pleasure to have you here in my humble eatery. What can I do for you?”

“Thank you barkeep. I have come in search of a man named Gary. He’s about my height. A little thinner. Weaker. Less good looking. He wears a helmet forged from cosmic metals. Very colorful. Hard to miss.”

“Oh, yeah. Everyone around here knows the name of Gary. Our bard, Bartholomew, does a fantastic retelling of the time he slew that sea serpent.”

“Does he?” Idar said, lifting an eyebrow. “Because you know, I was there for that. I assume your bard includes the part where I covered their flank and sunk that ship that was chasing them.”

“Oh, really now?” The bar tender said. A crowd was gathering around them now. “Sure. I think I remember something about a ship. Wanted to protect the snake or something like that.”

“Something like that,” Idar agreed.

There was banter all around that Idar assumed was the murmur of a crowd in awe.

“I am in a sort of contest with Gary, you see, bar tender. He and I are hard at work vanquishing an ancient evil that still threatens the you and your kin. Time is very sensitive in this matter. So if you have seen Gary around here recently and know what direction he left in, I will continue my quest to save the world.”

“He actually was in here the other day. Yeah. Left headed west I think.”

“Thank you, kind sir.”

Idar spun around to exit the bar, in a hurry to catch up to Gary before he could get too another Dawn-son first. He wasn’t proud to admit it, but he was in mode of last-resort. He had no leads on the location of any other Dawn-son. And his only hope was to follow his rival and give him a taste of his own medicine. Idar was still imagining the satisfaction he would get from jumping in to steal the kill when he noticed something tugging on his sleeve.

There was a little girl looking up at him with watery, brown eyes. She couldn’t have been more that four years old, and she spoke to him in a babyish voice.

“Mistaw. Will you pwese hewp my fwend.”

The sudden interruption was bouncing around Idar’s head still and all he could do was produce a low grumbling noise. The girl continued.

“Pwese. He’s my wittle kittie fwend. His name is Hakki, and he’s stuck in a twee. You’re so big. Won’t you pwese hewp.”

The bartender and his possie were listening through a window. Idar had hardly stepped outside before the girl caught his sleeve. The bartender intruded on the conversation before Idar could even process the strangeness of the request.

“Sandra, you came to the right person. This is Idar, Son of Arvid! He’s a hero like Gary.”

“Youw like mistaw Gary!” the little girl said, the tears slowly drying. Idar wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that Gary’s name was the only word she’d pronounced correctly this whole time. Fucking Gary?

Well, he didn’t really have time for this, but the he couldn’t let his fans in the bar see him turn down the needs of a little girl. He would have to do something. He spoke through a fake grin.

“Of course, little girl. I’ll help you get your kitty cat out of the tree before I continue my quest to save the world. Show me the way.”

He put a hand on the girl’s back and prodded her forward. She wrapped her hand around his pointer finger and ran him through the street, clearly headed to the giant oak in the heart of the village. They passed into a small alley way where there were no eyes on them, and Idar stopped. The girl lurched backward, still holding his finger. Idar got down on one knee and looked the little girl in the eyes.

“Listen girl. I don’t actually have time to save your kitty cat,” he said with an exaggerated grimace and shrug. “You see, sweetie. There is this really bad guy out there, and I have to go find him as soon as possible to make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone. You see?”

The girl stared at him blankly.

“So I must go as soon as I can. I really would love to save your little kitty cat friend. I’m sure he’s very soft and cute. But cats get into trees all the time. He will be fine. I promise you.”

The girl blinked. She hadn’t understood a single word he said. But Idar didn’t have time to repeat himself. So he hesitantly patted her on the head and stood up to leave hoping she wouldn’t scream or cry out.

“Best of luck.”

He jogged back the way they came, out of town—sure to avoid passing by the bar again. And tried to shake off the nasty feeling filling his head. Just before he left town, he saw a woman in a long white apron stopping people in the street. She was an orange cat morphid, a bipedal humanoid, not common at all in these parts. He overheard her speaking to a man a few paces ahead.

“Please. Please. Someone needs to save my son. My little Hakken. He’s up in that tree again. That blasted Squicheious snatched him. Gods know how much time before something happens. Please!”

The man was unsympathetic. And as Idar watched the mortal man turn away from being too busy, the nasty feeling growing in his mind sprung to life like a fire spayed with mead. The conviction in his head weighed him down so much that he could do nothing but stare at his feet while the cat morphid came up to him and pleaded.

The woman’s words were muffled and distant to Idar as he wrestled with the choice in front of him. Every second he stayed in the town so disgusting even its own residents called it Belck, Gary, Vimia, and the other angels were closing in on the remaining Dawn-sons. He was already so far behind in the game of heroes that he was being Gary the son of the tailor. Fucking Gary. If he stopped now, he may as well be giving up his final chance. What would his father say? What would the others back home say? How would his legends read if he failed the name of his father? What would they say if he left now when there was a child in need of help?

“Please. Please. Please,” the woman was still begging. She had wrapped her entire arm around his massive bicep to keep him from walking away. He gently brushed her aside and looked to the sky with his arms held out, bellowing a mighty roar that caught the attention of everyone in the village.

“I will save your son. Wait here.”

Idar let out a deep breath and called upon the power of his ancestors. There was a snap, a crack, and a clap as a bright light enfolded him. As it dimmed, he stood triumphantly with radiant wings standing proudly on his back. He went into a deep squat and sprang into the sky, the ethereal wings sending a gust of wind that launched him into the sky.

He soared over the buildings toward the oak jutting out from the center of the town. Down below he could see a crowd gathered around with pointing fingers. The little girl was nowhere on sight, presumably still searching for someone who can save her kitty friend.

Idar touched down gently on the ground, everyone in the crowd stepping aside as he closed his wings and walked up to the base of the tree.

“Where is the boy?” He asked, bobbing his head in an attempt to see through the leaves.

The crowd unanimously answered him. About half way up, on the south side. Near the trunk. Idar took off again and flew into the tree as high as his wings would let him. Then he climbed rapidly.

Half way up the tree, he saw the kitten-shaped boy cowering in fear under the wrath of a three foot tall, humanoid squirrel. Idar didn’t ask questions. He produced his hammer, smashed the squirrel’s head in with a thwack that sprayed both of them in gray matter and blood. The boy ran over to Idar, who picked him up under his arm and jumped out of the tree. His wings manifested again and slowed their descent.

The whole town gathered to celebrate Hakken’s safe return to the ground and the death of the wicked villain that was Squicheious. Idar later learned that the cat family had an ongoing feud with Squicheious. Something about a rivalry as the only morphids in all of Bleck.

The little girl and the mother showed up not long after the boy was returned to. The mother gave Idar an evil glare as she wiped the blood off of her son’s face. The little girl gave the boy a hug and needed to be wiped off as well.

Moments after, the bartender and his possie showed up.

“Holy shit!” the bartender said. “We were standing out in the street when you flew overhead like a giant eagle or something.”

Idar sensed a bit of apology in his voice.

“You know, Son of Arvid, from what Gary was saying we assumed you were the biggest joke among the angels. But that was something else. I hope this doesn’t set you back on your quest to save the world.”

“What was that?” Idar said. There had been too much noise from the celebration.

By the time he had manuvered his way out of the social situations that come after saving a boy from certain squirrely death, the sun was setting. Idar would have to wait the night before setting out to catch his rival. He got a room at an inn, and as his head hit the pillow, he decided it was worth it.