Grimoires and Gunsmoke

Azeline twirled a healing potion in her hand with a thoughtful look on her face. The other day, just after the meeting with the village chief, Elijah had made good on his promise and sourced a red vial.

Initially, her plan had been simple - drink the potion and be cured of all her ails. After all, that was the purpose of these magical concoctions, wasn't it? To mend wounds, restore vitality, and get the drinker back to peak condition.

However, upon closer inspection, Azeline realized that the potion Elijah had procured was… particularly potent. The liquid inside the vial seemed to glow with a deep and rich crimson hue as if it were a light. This was no ordinary healing potion- it was a concentrate, a distillation of powerful restorative magic with no ounce of watering down to be seen.

This put Azeline into a predicament. On one hand, she could drink a portion of the potion and save the rest for later. Just a few sips would be enough to get her back on her feet and ready for action. She could just keep the rest and make it act as a reserve, a failsafe for future injuries or emergencies.

On the other hand, she could choose to heal naturally, to let her body heal naturally. It would be a slower process, but it would allow her to save the entire potion for a truly dire situation. In a world as unpredictable and dangerous as this one, having a full-strength healing potion could last her for who knows how long.

And then there was the third option—selling the potion. Azeline knew that such a high-grade healing item would fetch quite a sum on the open market. With the funds, she could acquire other useful supplies or perhaps even secure some favors from the right people—in a place like Aldenshore, where money talked, and influence was everything.

Lost in her musings, Azeline almost didn't notice a lone figure approaching her, but the man’s all too familiar voice made her head snap up.

"How do I look?" Elijah asked, raising his arms to present himself. He was clad in a loose-fitting earthy tunic, half covered in an unbuttoned leather surcoat. For pants, sturdy breeches fitted loosely over his strange earthen boots that were made from strange and alien materials.

Azeline looked him up and down, her eyebrow arching in surprise as she took in his new appearance. She hadn’t even recognized him as he approached and mistaken the man for another peasant. His usual upright and powerful stride was replaced with a more relaxed and lethargic gait that was accompanied by a lazy hench of his back.

Giving him a slow, appraising nod, a small smile playing at the corners of Azeline’s mouth. "Not bad! Not bad at all," she said, her tone a mix of surprise and approval. "You look like a pilgrim or a fledgling freelancer from the southern islands."

Elijah's grin widened, and he was clearly pleased with her assessment. "Perfect. I was going for the nobody merc look."

A hum of interest left Azeline’s mouth. She nodded her head and observed Elijah's new appearance. "I see, I see," she said, a note of understanding in her voice. "That makes sense. Blending in with the locals, becoming part of the background. Smart move."

Sweeping her gaze around their little corner of the village, she saw it was bustling with activity. The strange human group she had found herself traveling with was also donning a variety of different outfits. Some were dressed as peasants, simple folk going about their daily lives. Others had taken on the appearance of merchants, their clothes a bit more refined, a hint of prosperity about them. And then there were those, like Elijah, who had opted for the look of freelancers, wandering adventurers, and sellswords.

But what stood out most to Azeline was the sight of them loading their equipment into the back of wooden carriages. Gone were the sleek, metal carriages that moved without the aid of beasts of burden, and in their place were simple, horse-drawn carts.

Azeline turned back to Elijah, a furrowed brow betraying her confusion. "You're not taking your metal carriages?" she asked, gesturing toward the wooden carts. "I thought those were your primary mode of transportation."

“Eh? Nah," Elijah lifted an eyebrow before dismissively throwing his hand. "Too conspicuous if we show up in those and too bothersome to hide if we get close and stash them somewhere."

After quietly considering his words for a moment, Azeline nodded her head in agreement as she tapped the side of her potion. “I suppose you’re right.” She conceded. “People also like to wander and might run into them. You’d need to station a permanent guard.”

"Yep, pretty much," Elijah agreed, nodding his head. "Last thing we need is some curious local stumbling upon our stuff and causing a scene. Or trying to steal it."

Taking another look around, Azeline’s brow furrowed further as a thought struck her. Now that she considered it, why were they all preparing now? The expedition wasn't set to leave for a few days, yet here they were, packing up and getting into character.

"Why the rush?" she asked, turning back to Elijah. "I thought we had a few days before we were supposed to head out. Why is everyone gearing up now?"

Elijah, who had been busy watching Yana continue to meddle with their prisoner in various concerning ways, did a double take towards Azeline. His gaze flickered between the two, making sure the mischievous fairy wasn't doing anything too crazy, before focusing on Azeline’s question.

"Oh, they're just familiarizing themselves with the local garb and equipment," he explained, waving a hand towards the bustling activity. "Getting a feel for how to move, how to act. It's one thing to look the part, but it's another to act the part."

“Act the part?” Azeline murmured to herself as she tilted her head in through. The action caused the ears to wobble as she took in Elijah’s words. It made sense. If they were going to blend in, they needed to do more than just dress for the part. They needed to live it, breathe it, and make it their second nature.

Meanwhile, Yana was zipping around the still unconscious and seemingly braindead prisoner with a mischievous glint in her eye. The fairy had her hand on her chin, deep in thought as she examined the man from various angles, as if he were a particularly intriguing puzzle to solve.

Suddenly, she darted to the man's face, prying his mouth open with her tiny hands. With a giggle, she grabbed his tongue and pulled it out, stretching it out to hang from the side of his mouth in a comical fashion.

Yana then flew back, putting some distance between herself and the prisoner as she admired her handiwork. It was like an artist stepping back from a canvas, considering the next brushstroke.

"Hmm..." she hummed, tilting her head as she flew from one side of the man's head to the other, examining him from different angles. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and impish glee. It was a look that would have made Azeline and the otherworldly humans wary and put some distance between themselves and her.

Elijah, still in conversation with Azeline, continued his explanation. "Ya, the sooner we start, the more natural it'll feel when we're out there. And the more natural it feels, the more..."

But his words trailed off as a sudden zap filled the air, followed by the sight of Yana electrocuting the prisoner with bolts of violet electricity. The man's body jerked and spasmed with each zap, his tongue flopping around wildly as the fairy cackled with delight.

"... convincing we'll be..." Elijah repeated distractedly, his eyes widening at the scene unfolding before him. "Hold on a sec..."

As he started to walk over with a brow furrowed in a mix of concern and exasperation, the fairy continued her mischievous play. She was so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn’t even notice her Apostle rapidly approaching.

Zipping up to the prisoner's face once more, Yana grabbed an eyelid in each hand and started pumping her arms like pistons, causing the man's eyes to flutter open and close in a grotesque pantomime of wakefulness.

"WAKEY WAKEY!" she yelled gleefully, her high-pitched voice carrying across the village.

A look of alarm spread across Elijah’s face as she took off into a jog. "Yana!" he called out, trying to get the fairy's attention. "What are you doing!? Stop that! What the hell is wrong with you!?"

But Yana seemed to be in her own world, lost in the joy of her mischief. She continued her assault on the prisoner's face, alternating between zapping him with electricity and manipulating his features like a deranged puppeteer.

And the moment he got close enough to snatch Yana out of the air, the prisoner suddenly let out a shrill scream as he twisted and writhed, trying to break free of his restraints.

“JESUS-FUCKING-CHRIST!” Elijah yelped as he stopped in his tracks, stumbling backward.

Elijah's hand instinctively went to his pistol, drawing it in a smooth, practiced motion. He leveled the weapon at the prisoner, his finger resting alongside the trigger guard as he assessed the situation.

The prisoner's scream had drawn the attention of the other operators lurking around the area. They rushed over, weapons at the ready, their faces tense with anticipation of a potential threat.

Coleman and an SASR operator were the first to reach Elijah and the squirming prisoner. "What the fuck is going on here?" Coleman demanded as his hand rested on his own pistol. His eyes darted from the writhing prisoner to Elijah's drawn pistol to Yana, who was still gleefully zapping the man with bolts of violet electricity.

"I don't know!" Elijah replied in a befuddled voice. "One minute, he was out cold, the next, he's screaming like a banshee!" For once, he found himself completely flustered, unsure what to do.

The SASR operator who helped them with the convoy raid, known as just Ian, spoke up. "Mate, I think your little friend there might be the problem."

Yana cackled evilly as she continued to torment the poor soul, her manic laughter mixing with his agonized screams in a discordant symphony of chaos. "Are you awake yet!?" she yelled, her tiny hands prying the man's eyelids open. "Did you have a nice sleep!? Rise and shine! It's time to -"

"GWAAK!!!" Yana's taunting was cut short as Elijah's hand shot out, snatching her off the man's face. But with her tiny fists still clenched on the man's eyelids, Elijah inadvertently yanked the man forward, out of his resting place inside of the GMV, and face-first onto the stone floor.

Elijah froze for a few moments as he looked down at the groaning man with a blank expression. The prisoner's face contorted in pain, and his hands weakly grasped at the air as his muscles spasmed from the unrelenting shocks. But before Elijah could even begin to process the insane scene before him, a sinking feeling crept up his spine.

Slowly, Elijah turned his head to look behind him. He knew that, with how loud they were, it would draw a crowd, but it wasn't just Ian and Coleman standing there anymore. No, half the damn village and most of the operators lurking about were crowded around the makeshift garage, craning their necks to get a peek at what was happening.

The operators, the villagers, all stared at him with expressions ranging from gobsmacked disbelief to outright incredulity. He could practically hear their thoughts: "What the hell is wrong with these guys?"

With an audible smack, Elijah facepalmed, dragging his hand down his face in exasperation. "Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered under his breath.

In his grip, Yana wiggled and squirmed, her tiny face scrunched up in indignation. "Stupid head! Stupid, stupid head!" she squeaked, her high-pitched voice cutting through the stunned silence. "Did you want me to wake him up or not!?"

Elijah gritted his teeth, his patience diminishing by the second. "Yana," he ground out, "I didn't mean like this!"

But the fairy was having none of it. She continued her tirade, her words coming out in a rush. "You said wake him up! I woke him up! What's the problem? He's awake now, isn't he!?"

With a sigh of resignation, Elijah looked up, meeting the eyes of the assembled onlookers. "Alright, fuck it. Well," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "he's awake. So, I guess we can at least interrogate him now."

The crowd collectively shook their heads and grumbled about the omnipotent and pervasive insanity of this planet before meandering off back to their own tasks while the villagers stood there dumbfounded. Meanwhile, Elijah shifted his gaze to Azeline who was watching the spectacle with a mixture of interest and disgust.

"Hey, Azeline," he called out, "you think you can sit in on the interrogation? We're gonna need an interpreter, or at least someone who knows about knights and warriors and all that shit."

Azeline raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "You want me to babysit your prisoner?"

Elijah opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but instead just flapped his mouth and moved his hands as he struggled to find an appropriate answer. “Yeah, more or less.” He finally shrugged and released his hold on Yana.

Taking the opportunity to gain some distance, Yana stuck her tongue out at Elijah and let out an indignant huff. “This is the thanks I get for helping you stupid mortals!?” She barked in irritation. “I shoulda just left him brain dead! Hmph!” She harrumphed and zipped out of the garage.

Azeline shook her head after letting out an exhausted sigh. Looking down at the healing potion in her hand, Azeline watched the red liquid sloshing gently in the vial. With a shrug, she uncorked it and took a swig, gulping down a quarter of the contents.

Immediately, a warm, tingling sensation spread through her body, and she could feel her injuries starting to mend. The pain in her hip and arm faded to a dull ache.

Straightening up, Azeline’s posture turned more relaxed as she sucked in a deep breath of air. "Fine…" she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "But only because I know you’re going to underestimate him and get yourselves hurt."

As Azeline straightened up, Elijah's eyes widened in astonishment. The change in her posture was subtle but unmistakable. Gone was the slight hunch and the careful way she held herself to avoid aggravating her injuries. In its place was a fluid grace, a sense of ease and strength that seemed to radiate from her very being.

Elijah's brow furrowed as he watched the transformation unfold. As a medic, he'd seen his fair share of injuries, from the mundane to the catastrophic. He knew the toll they took on the body, the slow and painful process of recovery. But this? This was something else entirely.

Before his very eyes, Azeline's wounds seemed to be knitting themselves back together at an impossible rate. The bruises that had mottled her skin faded from angry purple to sickly yellow to nothing at all. The scabbed-over lacerations sealed themselves, leaving behind only faint pink lines that quickly disappeared.

But what really caught Elijah off guard was the fact that he could see the magic. Or at least, he thought he could. It was like a shimmering aura, a barely perceptible flow of energy that seemed to dance across Azeline's skin. It pulsed and swirled, concentrating around her injuries before sinking into her flesh, accelerating the healing process to an unbelievable degree.

Taking a look around at the other faces observing the two, Elijah tried to gauge the reactions of the others. Did they see it too? The strange, ethereal glow that seemed to emanate from Azeline? But to his surprise, no one else seemed to notice. They carried on with their tasks, oblivious to the miraculous feat of healing taking place right in front of them.

Azeline, seemingly unaware of Elijah's scrutiny, strode over to the hogtied prisoner, and without a care in the world, she yanked him up and slung him over her shoulder as if he weighed nothing at all. The prisoner let out a startled yelp, his eyes wide with fear and confusion, before trying to wriggle away. However, Azeline’s grip was iron-clad, and there was no escaping.

As Elijah watched, he could see the flows of energy within Azeline herself, contorting and manipulating in ways he couldn't even begin to comprehend. It was like watching a complex machine at work, all gears and moving parts, except it was pure, unadulterated magic instead of metal and oil.

"Fine," Azeline sighed, looking over her shoulder and snapping Elijah out of his mesmerized state. "Where am I taking him?"

"Oh, right. Fuck." Elijah shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs of wonder and disbelief. "We need to get those HUMINT spooks."

He glanced over at Ian, the SASR operator who had been watching the whole exchange with a mixture of amusement and bewilderment. "I guess you guys want in on this too?"

Ian nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Damn right we do. Can't let the burgers have all the fun, now can we?"

Both Elijah and Coleman seemingly recoiled away from the literally mental damage they incurred when the Australian called them burgers. The fact that someone would describe an entire nation and its people by their food staples seemed completely out of pocket. The two American SOF operators looked the Australian up and down equally as impressed as they were offended.

“God damn.” Coleman huffed in bewildered amusement as he shook his head. “Can you calm down?”

Elijah pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture of exasperation. With a wave of his hand, he motioned for Azeline to follow him. "Come on, let's get this over with," he said in a resigned tone.

Turning to Coleman, Elijah jerked his thumb toward the abandoned building on the outskirts of the village. "Go grab The Activity guys and have them meet us at the snitch hut, will ya?"

Coleman nodded, already moving towards the building with a sense of purpose. "On it."

With that, Elijah and Azeline made their way toward the makeshift interrogation room, the hogtied prisoner bouncing uncomfortably on Azeline's shoulder with each step.