We stood frozen, the five of us, as thirteen ragged men slunk in through the main entrance. The only entrance. And exit. Their eyes spoke of confidence, their gait of dishonesty and the way they carried their weapons, some were looking forward to unspoken, promised brutality. And other things I didn’t want to think about.

A feeling like a hollow pit grew in my stomach, not stopping, ever larger.

“And what is this supposed to be?” Vinesse asked and strode forward with practiced confidence. It was somewhat undermined as she was still covered head to toe in swamp gunk.

What do you think it looks like? Thirteen thugs, armed, grinning, laughing, cornering us inside? It’s a shakedown! A mugging! A, a… murdering. Revenge.

I looked to Avice for reassurance. She had a white-knuckled grip on her spear and the side of her face poking out behind her mask betrayed definite worry. More than just worry. Understanding. Fear.

She motioned for another small flask of water – her last.

Whatever she’s hiding in those flasks, I want some of it too.

“Oh, this?” The horrid man from earlier today said. He stretched his arms wide, as if to encompass the entire sunken chapel. “My crew. Just some fun. Business.”

Our leader’s mouth turned thin and all of us stood somewhat close, huddled even, staring them down in a contest of who flinches first. We weren’t on the winning side, considering we were… sixteen eyes short.

“You want the water.” Vinesse said flatly. “The treasure.”

A lopsided smirk pulled at his cheek. It did nothing to hide his foul teeth.

At least the smell of the swamp is overpowering his. Wait, no, focus. Bad. This is bad. Really, really bad. They want to get our stuff. We can’t give it to them. Krah needs it. He–

“We’ll give it to you.” I was shocked by her words. “As long as you let us leave unharmed.”

A moment of silence reigned. Then the man laughed. Loud and horrible. Long. He wiped a tear from his eye and spat on the ground.

“We ain’t here fo’ some miracle water. We’re here to make ya’ dead.”

A few of them stepped forward, menacing with clubs and swords unsheathed. I had mine readied, and my shield. But my mind was playing a different game.

They’re people. Honest to gods’ people. Not dregs. Not monsters. Sane. Human. Real. Why do they want to kill us? Here? Why us? We didn’t do anything wrong. We’re friendly. We just want to help our friend. Why us? Why me? Why, why, WHY–

“Rye.” A voice tugged at my ears, clearer than everything else. Or maybe the surrounding sounds were just muted by my fear. Or Ritz. He was talking to me after all. “Five on thirteen. We need the initiative. Hold out until Vinesse casts her magic. Then, shank them while they are on the back foot.”

“What? Why? How, how are we–“ I asked, but despite nearly yelling from shock, my voice wasn’t louder than a whisper.

“Keep em’ busy until then.” He said. “Injure them, kill them, hold the line. Make fighting us not worth the risk. Me and Avice, we’ll hold the sides.”

I couldn’t turn around to look him in the eye.

They’ve got swords. They’ve got armor. Two even have spears and I sure as hell don’t want to know what Toothy the Assweasel has in store besides his axe. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. I’m gonna die. We’re all gonna die.

“Nod if you understand.”

I had no other choice. I was terrified, shaking in my armor to the point that I was sure you could hear it across the room. But Vinesse boldly took a step forward and stared down the hoard of thugs.

“So. Make us dead, was it?” she asked in a clipped tone. “For the souls?”

There were chuckles all round on their side.

“For our gear?” She wagered, but then opened her mouth, pointing a finger as if she was just struck by an epiphany. “For someone else?”

That got the chuckles to die down quite quickly. Toothy the Large stared holes in her eyes. But she didn’t buckle. Vinesse never buckled. She even countered with a knowing smirk of her own.

“And who might be interested in the demise of a few lost souls such as we? A merchant, perhaps? Another adventuring soul? The toad?” She smiled condescendingly. “Or maybe even demons?”

“Awfully smart fo’ a dead girl.” Toothy said and spat onto the ground. “Name’s Nonya’fuckinbusiness.”

Vinesse scoffed. Her right arm lowered, gripping her staff, pointing it ever so innocently in their direction.

I see. That’s what we’re going for. Ok. Ok, that’s good. That’s a plan. Then after she does… magic stuff, we run in and then… then…

Then I have to kill people. Again.

Pull yourself together, Rye. These people are scum. Evil. Worse than monsters, because at least monsters can’t choose between cruelty and mercy.

But they’re still humans. All human life is sacred. But if that’s true, and I don’t fight back here, take the initiative to kill them first… they’ll kill me.

But I can see all their faces. Gods I hate this.

Our two groups stood at something of an impasse. We were only five, sure, but the two blocks of pews clogged much of the chapel’s insides. Only two narrow paths to the sides of either remained, as well as a wider path in the middle. That was the path I’d have to take. Right into the middle of the fray.

I don’t know if I can do this.

Then, the toothy man’s face turned cruel. “By the by, no need to worry ‘bout the water. ‘S for your friend? Bekki man, half-high, hisses and scratchy?” The corners of his mouth reached his eyes. “We shanked ‘im good. No struggle. An’ th’ best part? He thought we was with you! Hah!”

I looked to Vinesse. Her face was unmoving, cold as ice. A short jerking motion, and something flung forward, straight at the laughing man.

The dagger missed him by inches. He barely flinched, even as his ear started trickling blood. His face contorted into a predatory grin, and the group of bandits, startled, yelled before stepping forward to kill us dead.

“Kill the men. Spare the girls and the little boy, until we’ve ‘ad our fun, then kill them too.”

I stepped forward, shield in my right hand. Short sword in my left.

“Thank the gods I didn’t forget to sharpen it” was the last thing I thought before someone slammed into my shield. The difference in weight almost knocked me over, but I held just barely.

A glinting something came at my face. I tugged the shield upwards, struggling against some added weight. It was enough. The dagger strike missed, going over my shoulder and missing my painfully exposed neck.

N–now! Do it! Stab!

I struck a moment too late, my opponent’s legs dancing back as my sword poked out from under my shield. I was tugged with for a second and peeked over it.

His sword really is stuck in there. Good. Very good. Now to just–

A heavy bludgeon smashed against my shield from a foe to my right. The sword guy pushed with all his weight, my feet sinking into the mud and still being slowly pushed back. But that was all.

Moggen to my right was holding two of his own, warding an incredibly large brute with his shield, and a smaller one with his meticulous swordplay. Still, he was being pushed back as well.

A low sword strike scratched against my greaves, metal on metal. That got my mind back to focus on myself.

Right. Range. Range is king. Range is everything. He’s in mine. Remember your footwork. Hold your shield steady. And then, and then…

I don’t know, stab? Stab. Stab!

I thrust forward and caught something with the tip of it. It was soft and squishy. For a moment, I expected the blade to come back fully bloodied. But only the very tip did.

Not deep enough. Shit. If only I had half a hand’s more reach.

My opponents stepped back a bit, the surprise that I didn’t break like a twig, but rather bent like a sapling making them wary. Making them take me seriously.

I risked a glance towards Avice. A spearman was her opponent, his spear a good two feet longer than hers.

But… but she’s still winning.

She fought forwards, skillfully in a duel of pointy sticks. Almost artistically dismantling his every move. The short moment of inattention cost me, or would have, had the idiot to my front not lodged his sword in my shield. Again.

Get. Off! You’re doing good, Avice. You’re doing great!

I crouched my body low and held up my shield against an incoming rain of smacks and whacks.

He cursed something nasty and as I peeked over my shield, I had but a moment to notice his neck bulging hideously. I was half a second too slow to dodge the mass of gooey phlegm, slime or whatever it was that he spit at me. It hit me square in the face.

Ow. Shit shit shit. Ow, it stings. It stings like saltwater meets fire pepper. It’s sticky, It’s everywhere, ugh.

I frantically tried, and failed, to wipe it off of my face.

Fuck, fuck, they have boons?

I can’t see.

Shit.

I’m gonna die.

I could feel the speed and ferocity of the impacts on my shield increasing. A few deflected off my helmet. Another went for my legs, hitting the sabatons higher, almost at my knee and very nearly making me stumble.

Then, there was a hiss like a large snake, and the yelling started. The air turned hot and humid.

Steam? Steam is friendly. Steam is good.

“Forward! Knock them down!” Vinesse yelled, quickly followed by screams and a gurgling sound of someone in front of me. It was cut short, and the ongoing sounds of hissing and chaos gave me just enough time to wipe at least my left eye free of gunk.

Which was just in time to see Avice’ opponent capitalize on his reach advantage by quickly whipping his spear over the pews and trying to stick me in the neck instead.

I tore my shield around, the spear deflecting along the side–

Cutting across my upper leg, unarmored, at the same time as Avice pounced forward and drove her spear through the surprised thug’s neck. He had a longer pole, but she had two arms and a hell of a lot more control. And skill.

Shit girl, now I really want whatever’s inside your water flasks.

In front of me, the thugs were down four men, wounded or dead. Cut and boiled alive. It was five on eight now and the others were looking less sure of themselves. One turned to run, a thin cut along his neck courtesy of Mog or Vinesse, who were stood atop their dead opponents.

“Coward!” With a swing of his axe, the Toothy man split the runner’s head in half, a sickening crunch-crack-pop. The sound alone made me want to throw up, however the other thugs were suddenly a lot more eager to step forward.

Dammit. I should’ve been on the attack. It wasn’t enough to make them all run. At least they can’t surround us. As long as our flanks hold.

I couldn’t see how Ritz was doing, but I knew I just had to do my part over here and trust him. My best. At taking hits. From people a head taller than me. Stronger. More reach. And who, unlike me, wanted nothing more than to kill and murder and pillage, and, and...

I have to. I have to do it.

I dutifully stepped forward, eyes peeping over my shield, surveying the two opponents arrayed against me. The slime-spitter was still there, sweating hard and with skin like a cooked crayfish as the steam all around started to dissipate. The other looked to be barely taller than me, drooping ears like a dog, but only armed with two knives.

I’ve got the reach advantage. Good. I–

A swear to my right had me peeking at Mog, as his two opponents threw something brown and heavy at him. He struggled to get free from the weighted nets once they were upon him. All the while his opponents struck for his joints and thighs, only punished by a number of unsuccessful stabs of Vinesse.

They didn’t back off, a big thug brute still standing despite his red bubbled skin and battering him with a hammer, over and over. The hammer rose and fell once more, cracking the wood of his shield.

In that moment, vines shot out from his body, further than I’d seen before, and grabbed the man, hammer and all. They dug into the ground and wrapped around the two thugs’ legs, trapping them in place. A perfect target.

But Vinesse only reacted slowly. A gout of steam covered the thugs, their screams distracting from the considerably smaller amount of sputtering boiling vapor roiling out. Her arms were shaking.

Her eyes went wide as she shouted something I couldn’t hear over a roar that drowned out all sound for a moment.

Moggen was just finishing off the big thug with a well-placed thrust when a stream of flame washed over him. It looked almost alive and from one moment to the next, the rope and vines were up in a roaring inferno.

He screamed, first in surprise, then anger.

Shit.

A wet glob of something splashed over my shield as smoke filled the air and made it hard to breathe. Someone tried to pull my shield away, but I caught a finger or two with my blade. Still, my imagination of what the sounds to my right meant were playing havoc with my focus.

“Rye! Back! Back!” I heard Vinesse yell through the billowing black and started slowly retreating back. The attacks on my shield became heavier as mister slim-spitter had gained the ingenious idea of using an axe instead of a sword.

I can hold. I can hold. We’re stepping back, into the deep muck. Fuck. Footing is everything. Reach is everything. Hold. Hold. Ho–

“Caster!” Vinesse yelled.

I felt the fire before I saw it, instinctively raising my shield as a ball of it washed over. A few tongues licked at my face, and I felt a singing pain along my brows.

Fire. Magic. Fire magic. Shit, that’s hot.

“What are you muckin’ about for? Get ‘em!” The loud voice of Toothy bellowed out, whipping the rest of the thugs forward once more.

I felt a tap at my side and back.

Vinesse.

I retreated faster, in measure with Vinesse and Mog, who still had burning plant stuck to his body. A few more attacks rained on my shield as I saw Avice struggling with what looked like a man with metal scales for skin. Thick ones, covering him like a coat of steel. She was being pushed back, too.

Ritz? Still no idea. Gotta go back, gotta–

Two small fangs suddenly poked through the wood on my shield. Two daggers and a weight like a body falling pulled me downwards. I let it, because just how I couldn’t let go of the shield, I couldn’t carry the weight of someone on my lame arm either.

Slime spitter wasn’t prepared for my lunge as I threw myself forward, over Dagger-Dog and at his face. Chest rather. My sword plunged into his abdomen. It didn’t kill him immediately, but the frost-tipped spear of Vinesse finished the staggered fellow off.

I fell to the ground, overextended, sword still stuck in Spitty’s body and my heart pumping in my ears. I struggled to introduce my knee to the dagger-dog’s groin, over and over as we rolled across the muddy ground. At some point, I heard a cry to my right or left, not one I recognized.

I didn’t see the tip of the dagger before it ripped past my face. Breath short, pushed and pulled by forces inside and out, I did the best I could and bit his hand. He screamed and twisted beneath me as I felt for my own dagger. Which I didn’t have. Because I sold it.

Right. Shit.

I bit harder and harder, the dog-eared bandit swearing until he finally dropped his dagger.

It found its way into my hands. In one moment, I was looking at his young, grey eyes. The next I was stabbing his throat. Again. And Again. And again and again and again and–

A kick to my head sent me sprawling, coming to a stop with the back of it against a wooden pew. Stars. Stars were everywhere and the world turned blurry-sharp as I saw Toothy stare me down, then casually swat away a stab from Vinesse’ spear before charging in.

I blacked out and came to moments later. Just in time to see the leftover thugs overwhelming our center. The leader’s left hand trickled tongues of flame, which fell to the ground in a thick, burning whip. Mog was still standing, head and shoulders covered in billowing smoke, steaming and with remnant licks of flame.

Dutiful Mog. Protecting Vinesse. Coughing. Burning. Choking. To his last.

Then he fell over, death or wounds or maybe exhaustion taking him to face the mud. Toothy and another bandit went for Vinesse, who by the looks of it had problems standing. Sweat was pouring from her like a waterfall. Arms shaking.

That steam magic stuff must’ve taken a lot out of her. How much did she even use while I was blind? How much while I wasn’t looking? Where’s Avice?

All I could see was the Toothy grab our leader’s copper staff by the next thrust, then heat it with a coil of flame until she screamed and let it fall with a sizzle. Both her hands and the murky water below steamed from the heat.

“…ot so clever now, eh mudslut?” The toothy man said and kicked her in the ribs. Vinesse groaned as he lifted her up and threw her against a pew, pinning her as his other companion went to finish off Mog with a dagger.

She threw the flask of healing water to the side and into the muck. A last act of defiance.

“HANDS OFF, YOU MANGY FUCK!” An unnaturally loud yell shook the room and both bandits staggered, before a spear missed Toothy and hit the smaller one square in the gut.

Ritz was still in the fight. He paid for that though, pressured by two sword wielders. They cut his gambeson to ribbons and his left arm as well before he forced them to back off again.

A stream of flame flew his way as well and then I lost sight as smoke billowed from the burning wood all around.

This is it. It’s over. We’re done for. But we got them good.

I blinked, more a weird fuzzy mix than concussed.

… is that really ok? Say ‘we got them good’, and then die?

I rolled to my side and gripped the dagger tightly.

That I fought well, while my friends died or got, got… defiled by those filthy murderers?

Injustice. Rage. A bitter bile rising up. The smell of hot earth, filling the lungs. Sweat. And wet pebbles. A lot of it. Mixing and churning with the damp, rotting muck.

I took another breath.

They aren’t human. Their friends die and they don’t care. Murder. Pillage. Rape.

…in the pursuit of order, what sticks out must be cut away.

Sub-human. Animals.

I stood and shook off a heavy weight. I staggered towards the Toothy monster of a man but caught movement out of the corner of my eye.

Another bandit. Wounded. Wyckwax. Burnsalve? Whatever. He’s dead first.

I lunged at him, but he parried my first stab. And the second. I pushed against him with my shield. Both of us were wounded, yet he was still stronger, heavier. Had a sword where I had a dagger. Metal armor around the chest and arms.

The world cannot give you fair.

I opened my guard fully and threw myself at him in a martial hug. He was surprised, but not surprised enough to not try and kill me.

If I die, I die.

But I didn’t. His sword clattered harmlessly along my lower breastplate. I hugged him with my shield arm and stabbed him under the armpit with my other. Again. Again.

He didn’t have the polite sense to die quickly, nor to not cough up blood all over my face. Somehow, he managed to push me off himself and run away.

Whatever. He’s bleeding. He’s dead soon. Next. Vinesse.

Gotta save her. Gotta save Mog. Gotta save Ritz, if he’s still alive. Gotta save everyone. Where’s Avice? Fighting sounds behind me–

Something fiery and hot wrapped my wounded leg and I fully staggered to one knee, screaming. It didn’t just burn me, no, it burned something inside me, more than just skin. Deeper. Like scraping against my bones, like setting my mind on fire.

My soul.

I dropped and rolled in the mud, quickly doing everything, ANYTHING to get that burning feeling away.

“Fuck me, you’re not a boy.” Was all I heard as a boot with the weight of the world stepped on my neck. Making it hard to breathe. Pushing me into the mud. Only for a moment. But that moment lasted forever.

Not the mud, not the mud, not th–

The feeling of mud, slowly forcing itself against my will down and into my lungs. Slimy, sandy, rancid, I can breathe, but I can’t breathe, and I can breathe but I don’t want to breathe.

I have to get up, up, UP! UpUpUp!

Images of a muted struggle underwater. Thrashing, twisting, wrenching, choking, bubbles fleeing the scene and I’m alone, all alone.

I hate this. I hate it. I–

The taste of dead mud, the feeling of being helpless, being crushed like a bug, squish, squish, squish…

“Oh, I like me a struggler.” The man like a fish with too many beards gurgled with glee and laughed and there were screams, dead eyes, dead face, hungry, hungry, like a sharp toothed fire, fire, fire!

I want out.

The moment passed. My eyes were wide open. Face half sunken in the mud. But no weight. No fish. Just three thrusts, three arms, fighting against the one-man monster menagerie.

Avice. AVICE!

“Avice.” I muttered with teary eyes, everything wanting to get inside and sting. But I couldn’t close them.

I need to get up. Rise and shine. Five more minutes are over. Wake up. Face reality. Life is bad. Baddies are worse. Avice is here. Facing her fear. Because you were kind. Face yours. Face mine. You’re scarier than them. One drop in the ocean, but it’s blood-red.

And then I was standing again, mud and wetness and everything else pulling at my heavy shoulders.

But I stepped forward, until I was in front of Avice. No looks were needed. No words to communicate what we felt.

Hatred. Hatred for the kind, who fell. Hatred for the rotten sinners, who did the felling. Feelings didn’t care to check if they were dead, Vinesse, Moggen, or Ritz. They just wanted a target.

We pushed him back. A bandit came from Ritz’s side, blows from the big man’s axe up front.

I took them like a wobbling rock and Avice reserved three heartbeats to tear out the other man’s guts.

They’re running. The others are all running.

We pushed him further into the muck. Avice became slower, tired, more uncertain, but I forged ahead. My shield cracked and groaned in places, the axe-head peeking further through the holes with every strike.

A kick sent me back and stumbling into Avice. Soft, kind Avice. Not afraid. Just there, standing tall.

“Fucking useless bags o’ shite.” The large man spit on the last bandit to leg it. Only a few small cuts marred Toothy’s otherwise pristine body. Pristine insofar as strips of fur, cloth and gambeson still clung to his frame.

“He’s not running.” I muttered to Avice.

“Mhm.” Was all she said.

“We can take him.”

“Mh.”

His whole left arm burst into flames and for a moment, I hesitated. “Fun’s over! I’ll fuckin’ grab you by th’ cunt and burn you inside out, you two-bit whores!”

And then, he plunged the fire directly into his chest. It burned, red and evil. Deep and deeper. Hollowing out his insides.

“WITNESS!" He screamed “THE OLD POWER OF GIANTS!”

A heartbeat rang out that we could feel. He was upon us before I could move more than a foot.

Shit.

A stab from Avice’ spear went for his chest, and dug deep, but he didn’t seem to care. His blow came, quick. It burst through the wood, the axe-head scoring a tear under my eye.

He wrenched it out and nearly lifted me off my feet. I flailed with my left arm, trying to cut his hand. The second hit came regardless, just as hard and widening the same hole again. He pulled back and grabbed my shield with a hand like a torch, burning, too close.

Avice’ spear came slowly, but it came. Pushed him back just enough for me to focus.

Tie him up.

With that singular thought, the next time he motioned to strike, I bulled right into him. It barely made him flinch, but I had his attention. Especially as I stabbed my dagger around and into his right flank.

“Avice! Now!” I yelled.

But the spear scored shallowly on his body glowing red and unnatural, caught in the layers of gambeson. And pulled back too slow as well.

He caught the spear and broke its tip with a singular crunch. Avice didn’t expect him to pull as well and I felt her slam into me as he pulled her close.

His axe flashed high in the baleful fire light.

“AVICE!”

It came down and there was a crunch.

Huh.

At least it’s not her shoulder.

And then, there was pain. Too slow to block it fully. The axe remained firmly lodged between neck and shoulder. Bones beneath, shattered. Mine.

That was the last of it, as I hit a wall. I couldn’t go further. I slumped back, Avice pulling me out of the next strike. It simply chipped the front of my shield as we backed up, further and further outside. Away from him. Away from our fallen friends. The man was wild, yelling, laughing, his heart a burning bonfire all the while.

Whatever that fire uses for kindling, we’re not strong enough to wait it out.

He loomed over us as Avice stumbled over a corpse. A hideous grin. A lick of charred lips. “This is gonna hurt you a lot more than me, oh, be sure o’ that, puppit.”

Bleeding out wasn’t a great response to that. He wasn’t even looking at me. I was a non-threat. Already defeated. He didn’t care to respond as I spit on the ground in front of him.

Nor did he react at all as an Icicle pierced his scrotum.

The man looked down at his privates. A moment passed. He let out a hoarse, high yowl of pain. High and liberating. Vinesse gave him a mud-faced smirk, gripping her staff weakly with one shaking hand. Then, she slumped face first into the mud again as Toothy the horrible stumbled over pews, far and further away.

Out the door and then he was gone. A hoarse-voiced “you’ll regret that” floating on the wind.

“W–we won. They’re all gone. We’re alive.” Avice said in disbelief and looked at my lolling head and bleeding shoulder. Her expression was rather queasy. “Oooh, F–frick.”

“D–double. Frick.” I said and gave her a smile only someone who was in immense pain ever could. But I didn’t care one bit.

All that soul. Feels good. Feels warm. Feels cold.

I did good, didn’t I?