Author's note

I'd like to thank the two people who gave my story five stars, It's very motivating and supportive. I do have my personal doubts whether or not my story deserves this, however (Especially since it's a NaNoWriMo draft - Hopefully newcomers will take this rating the right way.)

Regardless, Thank you for the ratings, and thank you all for reading.

Word count

This chapter: 1967

Total: 23421

NaNoWriMo target for the 14th: 23333

(I should totally have these chapters out before midnight, otherwise I'll be a few hours late on the last day... I guess that ain't happening for now.)

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We're gonna do a POV switch this chapter, but it's a fluent transistion, I trust you can keep up with it due to the third-person nature of it. Also, the chapter is very relevant to Aitken, and the plot in general so it's not some lame filler-esque chapter about a side character off on a sidequest we will never see again.

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Aitken finally arrived at the safehouse. It was indeed a cave, and to the uninformed, it could easily pass as a simple bear cave. It consisted of a large hole in a rock, but went deeper than it would initially seem.

Aitken dragged the boar’s corpse to the end of the cave, and fell to the ground exhausted and breathing heavily.

Around him was all sorts of hunting things lined up on neat tables, placed against the rough stone edges of the cave. The tables were splatted with plenty of animal blood, presumably the remains of Flasor cutting up his dinner from smaller prey.

Finally, that took forever. The sun already set. I guess I’ll sleep on it and get to work tomorrow. Bobby won’t be back for another two or three days anyway.

Aitken got up, and went to work immediately. The tables would under no circumstances hold the mighty beast, but the knives were going to be useful.

I do wonder where he got all these things from. There’s even needles and thread, despite his claim he can’t sew or tailor.

Aitken walked over to his backpack. I guess I’ll need to design it to fit the black wolf-skin on top from the beginning, otherwise it’ll be a mess.

Aitken opened his backpack and pulled up the wolf fur, as he did so a familiar black potato fell to the ground.

“Oh hello there, I almost forgot about you.” Aitken said to the potato. “Here, you can help me make my new armour.” He said, as he placed the potato on one of the tables.

“I should start by measuring out myself and the materials I have, right?” He looked over at the potato. “I’ll take your silence as a yes.”

With a stick, he measured out the lengths of himself and the skin, and cut the important lengths permanently into the stick with a skinning knife.

With that, his work began. He made a crude tanning rack from wood he gathered outside and started scraping the skin, removing fat and hair. After this, he would cut it and sew the black fur of the wolves on, camouflaging himself for his future stealthy missions. This was long off, however - he had several days of hard labor ahead of him before any measure of results would be achieved.

In the meantime, Flasor was already approaching a village. In his hand, he held the head of a mighty beast that had terrorized the village for years, eating their crops and destroying sheds and even hurting and killing people in the dead of the night.

Flasor was optimistic - upon seeing their saviour, the villagers would surely realize he was not evil.

The small village formed in the distance - it was made mostly of wood and had no fence around it. Each little home had a garden with crops, as well as a few fields - some of which looked like an army had trampled over them during heavy rain.

Flasor simply lifted the head of Hogzilla and approached the village. Not long after, he was spotted.

“Look mom! It’s a funny little red-orange man!” A child yelled.

The mother looked out, and terror spread in her face. “Help! Demons!” she yelled as loud as her lungs would allow, grabbing her child and running into a house.

Yelling and panic spread in the town like a wildfire, and soon after a bell was ringing.

Flasor didn’t stop his slow approach, still holding the head higher than ever.

A lot of voices could be heard. “It’s an imp.”, “It killed the boar menace, it will kill us all!”

Yet one booming voice broke through the atmosphere. “Silence! Grab any weapon you can find, we will not let our entire town be destroyed by a single imp.”

Fleeing villagers suddenly stopped, and went for pitchforks, sticks and other makeshift weaponry.

“Line up! If there’s a witch you want a man by your sides to help you” The scarred and bulky man howled. He had a large scar across the eyebrow and below the eye on the right side.

The scarred man pointed at somebody. “Call the nearest priest, paladin, inquisitor or even a guy with some holy water. Just get somebody with something holy here.”

He proceeded to point at another man. “You! get the guards, army or whatever you can find. There’s a witch in town!”

“If there’s a witch we should run.” Some people mumbled. “But I don’t see a witch.”

“There might be a witch - we will assume the worst and work from there. Now line up, before she sneaks by.” the scarred man said.

The villagers lined up in a crude shape resembling a line, in front of the village.

Flasor stopped around twenty steps from the line formation and threw the head of Hogzilla forwards. He still, awaiting their response.

“What is it doing?” someone shouted.

“It’s trying to get us to lower our guards - the witch will kill us all if we start feeling safe.” The scarred man said, as he stepped forward.

He stared directly at the imp. He grit his teeth and clenched his fists around a rusty spear he held in his right hand. “Back off. We will not go down without a fight - there will be no point in attacking us for you or the witch… So just leave.” he said.

Flasor pointed at the severed head of Hogzilla.

“I know you defeated the boar, but we won’t go quietly.”

Flasor shook his head and pointed at the boar again. He continued to point at himself and at the scarred man.

The scarred man shook his head. “We don’t deal with demons. You will have no rewards from us, and you will have nobody to possess, no sacrifices in your honor. Leave.”

Flasor shook his head again.

The scarred man sighed irritably. “Get out here in the open so we can talk, witch! I know you’re there.”

Flasor shook his head violently and stomped on the ground. He pointed at himself and on the ground. The he scanned the horizon with his fingers and shook his head.

The scarred man drew his spear. “If you won’t come out, I’ll simply have to remove your little messenger.”

The scarred man thrusted his spear towards Flasor.

In response, Flasor dodged sideways, and leapt at the man. Flasor latched onto his shirt and formed a fireball in the other hand. He moved the fireball closer to the scarred man’s face and then suddenly closed his hand. The fireball disappeared as suddenly as it had come.

Flasor let go and dropped down, walking several steps away from the unharmed man. He pointed at himself, and at the hog’s head. Then he pointed at himself and then the villagers.

The scarred man broke out in cold sweat and backed into the villagers formation.

“T-Throw rocks at it. It’s a demon.”

The villagers threw rocks and everything they could find and grab a hold of at Flasor, who had to retreat.

Flasor ran off into the forest, but he had no intentions of giving up from this minor setback.

The very next day he returned, and the villagers lined up.

“You again? Away!” The villagers threw rocks at him again.

The third day they had prepared rocks in advance, as well as pitchforks for everyone. Flasor persistently continued showing up every single day, just to get driven off. Always with new approaches of trying to communicate that he would like to be a part of the village - he wished to have somewhere to belong.

The sixth day a priest had arrived, and when Flasor approached once more, he was met by the priest.

“There he is! The imp besieging our village” The scarred man howled.

The priest slowly nodded. “But where is the witch, I wonder…” He raised a glass jug of transparent liquid while chanting and pointing with the other hand.

Flasor kept pointing at himself and then at the villagers.

“In the name of the light, face righteous judgment!” The priest howled, as golden lightning shot from his fingers.

Flasor felt the incredibly painful burns of the holy lightning, as it tore into his skin. “Grr-aaaaah!”

“And now, for the exorcism itself!” He threw the jar of holy water towards Flasor. “Go back to Damnation, demon!”

The jar flew through the air towards Flasor, who was pinned to the ground due to the constant stream of holy lightning burning his skin.

Flasor looked at the jar, as time slowed down for him. The jar spun in the air as it approached him faster than he could react to.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

In that moment, a flame-tsunami swept across the vicinity, pushing the jar with the sheer force.

“What are you doing, Imp? Where’s your master?” A black-haired witch with a Pentacle pendant holding a purple core said. Next to her stood a goat-hoofed, -legged and -horned humanoid about her own size.

Flasor blinked several times.

The priest started howling “There you are, witch!”

The scarred man backed off slowly. “It’s the grey witch, father. Let’s just back off...” His teeth started to chatter.

“Go to the imp, Cepath. I’ll deal with the priest.”

The satyr nodded and headed towards Flasor.

The grey witch approached the priest slowly. “This is not my imp, but I have an interest in him. Please move along, and I will not be killing you.”

The priest frowned. “You burned down the church near Dragonsbreath, and destroyed the town itself. Why would I, a holy man, back off from you?”

“Because otherwise I’ll make you a hole-y man.” The grey witch smiled menacingly.

The priest frowned. “Is that a threat?”

“It could be…” She answered.

“Then let’s have a little fight.” The priest said.

The grey witch grinned and waved her hand nonchalantly. “Let’s.”

An arrow struck the priest right in his chest, and he stared at the satyr in disbelief, as the satyr had had pulled his bow and shot.

“Told you that you'd be hole-y.” The witch said as she turned around, walking over to Cepath and Flasor.

“I heard there’s another witch in town. I believe this to be the villagers own perception, but I had no choice but to show up anyway.” She said to Flasor. “I’m Rosedriah by the way. Now please explain what you are doing here?”

Flasor waved his arms around for a bit.

“No. Just talk.” Rosedriah said.

Flasor froze for a moment. “But you can’t understand me?”

Right after Flasor had spoken, Cepath spoke in the human tongue. “But you can’t understand him, he said.”

Flasor turned to Cepath. “You can speak human?”

“Most humanoid demons can.. That is, if the face look remotely like a human. Now please answer her question.”

Flasor sighed. “I’m a masterless imp, I had killed a large boar that terrorized the village, so I hoped I could find a place to stay.”

Cepath quickly translated this, and Rosedriah nodded. “I see. Your wishes have been fulfilled. You can come with me and Cepath.”

Flasor shook his head. “I’m no slave, that’s not how I wish to live.”

Cepath didn’t translate this time, but instead he talked directly to Flasor. “This is the grey witch. She is not like the rest. She does do jobs for the cult, but she is only loosely affiliated… No, the grey witch is named this due to her not being directly affiliated with the light or the darkness, she is kind of her own. If you join, you’d be on equal footing with a human, just like I am.”

Flasor’s eyes lit up upon hearing this. “So I’d have a place to call home?”

Cepath nodded. “Yes.”

“What are you talking about, Cepath?” Rosedriah asked impatiently.

“I just convinced him to join us. Right?” Cepath looked at Flasor.

Flasor nodded. “But there’s a condition. I said I was masterless, but I’m not alone. I have someone else with me, he will need to come with us as well.”

Cepath translated and Rosedriah nodded. “That won’t be a problem. We would be glad to have you and your companion.”

Flasor nodded in gratitude. “It’s about a day away. Follow me” he said as he lead them towards his safe-house.

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Thanks for reading!