Glen

Garth Aniculo

Challenging training partners

They lost another horse ten days later.

Or a week.

Glen had completely lost his sense of time in turn, the desert dull and hot in the day, dark and dull and not as hot, in the night. The animal locked up and collapsed shuddering on the soft sand. It didn’t fall down a dune’s slope this time, it just kicked the bucket on flat terrain. Being as it was the last in line, they almost missed its untimely demise.

“What now?” Glen asked looking back, trying to illuminate the darkness with his lightstone, Biscuit landing on the back of Outlaw at that moment and making a clicking noise with his throat.

Very annoying.

“It’s dead,” Gimoss announced, standing rigid on the saddle. “Soon to be beset by rot.”

“Gratitude for your input,” Glen told him mockingly. “Yer contribution is stellar per usual.”

He jumped down and started walking towards the still animal, Flix following behind him mounted. Glen started pulling at the straps to release the supplies, the small wyvern working on one of the horse’s hind legs with his sharp teeth.

“Hey, wait a bit,” Glen said in warning.

“We might need to leave some stuff behind,” Flix decided. Biscuit resumed eating the moment Glen turned his head. “It’s not prudent to overburden the rest of the mounts,” The Gish added.

“It’s not prudent, leaving supplies behind,” Glen retorted. “How far are those mountains?”

“Days, a week.”

“That’s not a small journey.”

“Eh, we’ve been traveling in the desert for over three months,” Flix countered.

“There’s no way it has been that long!” Glen argued. “Right?” The latter he asked looking at Gimoss.

“Hah… haha,” The corpse guffawed. “Hahaha!”

Oh, for slovenly fuck’s sake!

Flix had climbed down from his mount in the meantime and walked slowly towards the dead horse.

“It’s alright,” Glen said. “I’ll get them.”

“Hmm,” Flix replied.

Right.

“I’ll start with the water,” Glen decided and grabbed the first large leather flask to carry it to their other mounts. He made a loop with a piece of rope, secured it and walked back the small distance. He glanced at Biscuit gnawing at bone already and sighed.

Flix was examining the horse’s head still and Gimoss… well, he was staring at the sky right where Glen had left him.

“We have them fed and watered pretty well,” He told the old Gish. “Maybe it’s the desert.”

“It’s not the food, or the water,” Flix said, opening one of the horse’s eyes. “We have the same they have,” He stared at the blissfully eating wyvern next and Biscuit sensing his eyes stopped chewing and returned the stare.

“Yes?” Glen prompted him, noticing the exchange.

“Perhaps it is nothing,” Flix decided and got up with a sigh.

“Ehem, what if it is… something?” Glen insisted.

RRRRRR

Glen stared at Biscuit. “Keep chewing at that bone you!”

“I must have been mistaken,” Flix said.

“Out with it, Gish!” Glen snapped, having had enough with his stalling.

WRRRR

“WORK. THAT. BONE!” Glen barked at the interrupting wyvern, emphasizing every word.

What was that little bugger doing anyway?

Flix blinked blushing at the words double meaning. Glen whipped his head on him. “What?” He snarled, spittle flying out of his mouth.

“I think its poison,” Flix blurted.

Ah.

Hmm.

Well…

Glen frowned. Stared at Biscuit next, the wyvern pretending to eat, left eye watching them talk. “So…” He scratched his head, made to look at his worn out boots, the lightstone hanging from his neck, blinding him momentarily. Glen stumbled back dazed. “Luthos hairy nose! Fuck!” He cursed, Gimoss snapping out of his all-consuming gazing of the skies to let rip a riotous laughter, his enthusiasm palpable.

“Haha…ahahaha…hah!”

Glen wiped his sweaty, heavily tanned and decently bearded face, with a dirty cloth, thinking it through.

“A stinger?” He repeated grimacing.

“That telson-like thing at the tip of its tail,” Flix explained. “It’s small now—”

“It’s the size of a small dagger!” Glen snapped, eyeing the wyvern. “Can we cut it away, like they do wit dogs, or something?” Biscuit gathered his tail, behind his body to hide it.

“Eh, that would be unwise,” Flix replied, with a concerned frown.

“Ye just implied he’s poisoning the animals!”

“For food,” Flix explained.

Glen sighed, it turned into a small groan at the end.

What the fuck is this shite? Who needs more problems?

“How dangerous is it?”

“Mostly fatal, I suppose.”

Suck a bag of dicks.

“So ye say there’s a chance?”

“No, there isn’t probably. It is just… a larger Wyvern rarely uses it thus," Implying there was another use for it, "And we didn’t have one this small, when I was… since this is an Onyx—”

“What does this mean?” Glen asked, cutting him off mid-sentence, just as he was about to explain. The detail lost on him.

“Onyx Wyverns are very aggressive,” Flix explained patiently, then glanced at Gimoss. “Not very stable.”

“You shall suck my cock harlot,” Gimoss said. “But not today. It’s not fully working yet. Have patience.”

Glen blinked and shook his head right and left in despair.

“So… it’s a problem,” Glen decided.

“As long as there are animals to feed, not really,” Flix hissed through his teeth, glaring at a silently chuckling Gimoss.

Wait a fuckin’ minute there!

“What happens, if there are no animals?” Glen asked and stared at Biscuit. The wyvern gulped down a piece of bloody meat, broken bone still attached on it and then burped loudly.

Flix shrugged his shoulders.

“Hey,” Gimoss said and walked towards the dead horse. “Move aside ye idiot!” He kneeled on creaking knees and started hacking at the horse’s thigh with his saber. Slashed a big piece of meat out of it and gave it a good bite.

“What are ye going, you freak?” Glen queried, grossed out. “You haven’t eaten anything in… forever?”

“Don’t need to, I think,” Gimoss replied, his decrepit mouth full and blood spilling down the sides.

“Yer not sure?”

“Ah, no?” Gimoss replied. “Are you?”

“We can’t take these two into a village,” Glen murmured and Flix standing right beside him nodded.

“It would be unwise.”

Glen unsheathed Emerson’s blade and slashed energetically at the air a couple of times with it. Danced around on the soft sand, Biscuit hopping about behind him, mimicking his moves.

“Well?” He asked, when he stopped breathing heavy. “Are ye ready Gish?”

Flix got up, removed his dress and two weapon harnesses he wore, leaving a shorter tunic underneath and walked towards Glen. A shortsword in his right hand.

Glen cleared his throat and stared at the undersized old assassin.

“Do you want my other blade?”

“It’s too heavy,” Flix replied.

“Ah, sure.”

“Show me a slash, stay on your feet,” Flix said and grimaced, left hand pressing at his back.

Glen shook his head, not buying the Gish’s shenanigans. He stepped forward, faked a left high attack, switched at mid-point and slashed at his feet. He was going to pull the blade, if Flix failed to dodge.

Hopefully.

Flix jumped up two feet gathering his knees, rolled forward the moment his feet touched the ground and tapped the back of Glen’s knee with the flat of his blade.

“Cheating!” Gimoss bellowed from where he was watching. “The harlot isn’t using the blade properly!”

Glen breathed out, a little pissed, gathered himself and went after the small Gish with purpose. Flix stepped aside to avoid a downward cut, parried away the return with his shortsword and deflected Glen’s blade down next.

“Right,” Glen murmured, crooking his mouth. “Are ye getting tired?” He asked, breathing heavy.

“I can barely walk,” Flix admitted.

Glen sneak attacked him, while he was talking. Flix deflected the blade away from his head raising his own, smacked Glen’s incoming –also sneaky- punch down, grabbed him by the elbow and pulled hard, while kneeling. The former thief burst forward, made one step, then tripped on the Gish’s knee and went over his opponent, landing on his face right behind him.

Gimoss roaring laughter woke up the heavens.

“Gah!” Glen cried and spat a mouthful of sand out, more in his teeth and under his tongue. “Ye tripped me! Ye sneaky no-nose bastard!”

“Why did you close in?” Flix asked him, a small smile on his lips, while casually cleaning his tunic.

“To grab you?” Glen groaned, getting up.

“For what purpose? When fighting a single opponent, with a longer blade,” Flix said. “Allow him to make the mistake and come at you. Time is on your side.”

“Yer too fast,” Glen griped. “Like Jinx, always jumping around.”

“She’s fast?”

“Very. Nimble as fuck. I’ve seen her jump from a two story building, managing a couple of somersaults afore the landing,” That was some acrobat shite right there, he thought, remembering Jinx coming down the customs building in Rida.

“Was she injured?” Flix asked.

“Huh? I don’t think, then again… Jinx is frequently smashed up. It’s her thing,” Glen explained. Flix chuckled and walked to his things. He found his pipe and lit it.

“Younglings,” The old Gish said simply. “Ah, nothing stops young bones.”

Right.

“So, ye are gonna fight drugged?” He asked him. Flix sucked deeply a couple of times and then pointed at Gimoss. “Fight him. My back is killing me.”

“No weak arse crap!” Gimoss blasted them and unsheathed his sabre. That is, he just loosen it from the rope he had it tied to. “First to drop a limb, takes the loss and the other gets to brag!”

“It’s called training, Gimoss!” Glen protested angry and a little worried, eyeing the corpse giving his blade a couple of wild slashes.

“Training what? You haven’t landed shit for weeks you fool!” Gimoss blasted him back.

“I don’t trust him,” Glen told Flix and the Gish narrowed his eyes.

“You shouldn’t,” He said simply.

Gimoss swung at him viciously, without warning. Glen ducked under the whooshing blade, rolled away half-panicked and stoop up, mad as all hells.

“Ye cracked motherfucker!” He cursed and parried away Gimoss’ next brutal slash, blades clanging and sparks flying. Gimoss went for his leg on the return, but Glen pulled it away and retaliated with a cut that opened his opponent’s chest, cutting through the corpse’s shirt.

“Hah!” Glen guffawed, as Gimoss stared at the ruined garb, the leaking gash horrendous. “There! Yer done!”

Gimoss frowned and came at him again.

“Hey!” Glen yelled jumping away. “What the slovenly fuck?” Gimoss attacked again and again. Simple downward cuts, then a slash aiming for his head. Glen parried them away, his muscles screaming, the blades ringing and the corpse relentless.

Glen blocked his blade, Gimoss run the length of it -gliding his own blade down- intent on slicing away his fingers at the guard. Glen pushed it away, got poked in the chest hard with a finger, the tip almost piercing through cloth and skin. The pain blinding. He stepped away with a panicked groan, Gimoss staring at his broken finger perturbed.

“Weak-arse shite!” The corpse growled and Glen took his chance to run him through with his longsword. Right under the sternum and out his back.

“Oh, fuck,” Glen cursed and made to pull away again. “I didn’t mean—” Gimoss punched him hard in the face, blooding his nose. Glen’s head swung back, but the corpse grabbed him by the neck in a steely grip to stop him and then pressed hard, bony fingers turned into a death vise.

Eyes ogling desperately, Glen tried to get away, one hand still gripping the handle of his longsword, the blade still in the corpse’s chest, the other punching Gimoss repeatedly on the side of his head, right at the ear.

Gimoss grinned showing a horrendous mouth and raised his free hand holding the sword, to cut his head off. Ye mad bag of rot! Glen cursed desperate now and kneed him in the jewels hard. Gimoss doubled over, Glen kicked him again at the same spot and letting go of his sword, elbowed him in the face, right at the mouth.

“Arggh!” Glen cried out, as Gimoss let him go and staggered back, his mouth a bloody mess. “You insane fuck! What in Luthos arse got into you?” He bellowed furious, hobbling about, his hand numb and daggling useless.

“What?” Gimoss asked and spat down, his upper lip cut to the gums, the two parts flapping bloody. “You gave me opening!”

“I run ye through, ye dumb turd!” Glen blasted him, his throat swollen. “Ye should be dead!”

“So fucking what?” Gimoss growled. “Was dead afore that you fool! Your stupidity knows no bounds!”

Glen blinked in shock. Glanced frustrated at a chuckling Flix, blowing smoke out of his nostrils and then at Biscuit who had approached Gimoss sneakily and jabbed him once with his stinger, just above the ankle.

“Ah!” Gimoss snapped and looked down. “Idiot kin of mine,” He told the small retreating wyvern. “I don’t have blood circulation, unless I want to.”

Biscuit narrowed his burgundy eyes and snorted. Then just to be sure, swung his tail around and jabbed him again, right at his cock.

Apparently Gimoss was working on it at the time and it turned out to be a very painful experience that lasted through the night. The grotesquely swollen member had gotten so huge, the corpse walked about without pants cursing and looking for the small wyvern, over a tired Flix’s protests.

As for Garth, he greatly appreciated the whole ordeal, while tending to his own injuries.