Grimoires and Gunsmoke

A deep-seated frown graced Sofan’s face as he looked around the plain to see the sight of otherworldly foreigners and their abominable contraptions surrounding him. They set themselves up in a defensive position around the caravan itself.

However, what upset him was that the otherworlder his son kept harking on about was standing before him, shoving some fanciful magical tool to his face. From his position on the cart, Sofan squinted his and lowered his head to get a better look at what this infernal man wanted to show him as a barely contained look of disdain spread across his face.

Sofan leaned in further, squinting at the small screen, trying to make out the colorful shapes as he begrudgingly cooperated. For a moment, his usual dislike for the otherworldly humans was replaced by a flicker of worry.

The device showed an aerial view of a group of armed men wearing equipment and carrying themselves in a manner that marked them as something more than simple bandits. However, there was something about a small contingent of them that set the alarm bells off in his head to scream in full force.

"Recognize any of them?" Elijah asked, his voice casual but his gaze intense.

"Freelancers," Sofan groaned in a tight voice. "I see a few of ‘em, mixed in with them bandits."

Elijah nodded as if this confirmed a suspicion. "And the bandits... they're not your usual desperate lot, are they?"

Sofan shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "No. These ones are well-equipped and organized. The sort that usually looks to take richer folk ransom."

Azeline struggled to hold her poker face and not let out an amused huff. Before they made their way up here, she had informed Elijah and the other humans about who they were up against.

These were no mere highwaymen but professional thugs in the employ of a merchant named Master Simol. Simol was known for using these men to harass rivals and to clear the area for his smuggling operations, ensuring that his illicit goods could move unimpeded.

As a matter of fact, she even knew who these freelancers were after recognizing one of them. Among the rabble was a man she had frequently worked with in the past, clearing the forests of monsters and paying off patrols for smugglers bringing in contraband from the goblin cities. He was one of Einar's lackeys, a backstabbing piece of shit who ran that team that killed her teammates and failed to kill her.

Einar himself was a conniving and treacherous piece of shit. It seemed he was the one who plotted to take Azeline out, viewing her as a threat to his operations, seeing that she worked for someone whose position he was gunning for – the bastard.

"Would they bother with a peasant caravan like ours?" Elijah raised an eyebrow and asked Sofan.

Sofan hesitated, his brow furrowed. "Hard to say…” he replied, scratching his rough patch. We usually won't be worth the time, but they might be desperate or think we carry something valuable. especially with you lot slinkin’ about…"

Elijah let out an exhausted sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So we run into conflict no matter what…” He exhaled, throwing his arms up and letting them slap his side. “Fuck, so now what?” Looking to Azeline, he was greeted with a noncommittal shrug.

A moment of silence passed as Elijah looked around at his team’s and the SASR’s vehicles idling around them. The low rumble of engines echoed in the air as he pretended to contemplate on what to do next.

After noticing Sofan seemed a little more uncomfortable about the prospects of the unknown, Elijah decided to capitalize on the opportunity to steer the situation in a more favorable direction. "What if," he began, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of suggestion, "we went and talked to these highwaymen? Maybe I can see if they'll agree to give us safe passage?"

The village head’s eyebrows shot up as surprise and skepticism warred on his face. "Talk to them? Are you mad?"

“No, no. Hear me out.” Elijah raised his hand, indicating he had more to the plan. “I have some shiny shit I… repurposed from this Knight here.” Elijah motioned to the immobilized knight captain chained to the LRPV. “Maybe we can convince them we’re not a threat and let us pass without incident. After all, we have no quarrel with them, and everyone likes money."

Sofan frowned deeply when he looked towards the knight captain, clearly offended by the idea. The thought of negotiating with bandits, the scum of the road with the spoils of a loyal Imperial, went against every instinct and moral he held dear. But as he looked at the aerial image again, at the number of armed men and the presence of the freelancers, he knew he couldn't disagree. They were outnumbered and outmatched, and if it came to a fight…

There would be casualties. More death, more blood on his hands.

"And if they don't agree?" he asked with tension tight in his voice. "If they decide to attack anyway?"

Elijah's smile took on a harder edge, a glint of steel in his eyes. "Then we take them out. Right, then and there." There was no hesitation in his voice, no doubt. It was a statement of fact, a promise of violence if the situation demanded it.

A chill ran down Sofan’s spine as he swallowed hard. Once again, he was reminded of these otherworlders' ruthless practicality. They were not men to be trifled with, not opponents to be underestimated. He needed to get to the Seraphic garrison and warn them of these monsters before they dug themselves in too deep. And if that meant sacrificing some of his morals to do so, then so be it.

Furrowing his brows in thought, Sofan looked between Elijah and Azeline. "So," he said, his voice slipping into a thicker, more pronounced hick accent, "what are ye plannin'? Go out there by yerselves?"

Another moment passed as Elijah pretended to work through the possibilities. Then, with a glance at Sofan, he spoke. "Actually, it might go a long way in convincing them to let us pass without incident if you came with us as an official representative of your village."

Sofan's eyebrows shot up, surprise and unease flickering across his face. But before he could voice his objections, Elijah continued. "We'll act as foreign traveling mercenary or... freelancer escorts you hired to help ward away the dangers of the road. The Grovemaws and the, um..."

He looked to Azeline, making a flapping motion with his hand and pointing to the sky, searching for the right term.

"Rotwings," Azeline supplied in a matter-of-fact tone.

Elijah nodded, turning back to Sofan. "Grovemaws and rotwings!” He snapped his fingers and pointed at Sofan. “We're your hired muscle, here to ensure safe passage for your people and your goods."

Obviously uncomfortable with the idea of aligning himself with what he considered the Enemy, Sofan's mouth twisted. Even in pretense, this fact clearly grated against his sensibilities. But as he looked out over the caravan, at the faces of his people –innocent and unwitting– he knew he had little choice.

"Alright," he said at last, the word heavy with resignation. "We'll play it yer way. But I'll be watchin' ye, every step of the way. No funny business, any sign of sellin’ us out..." He let the implication hang in the air, a reminder of the fragile nature of their alliance.

With a smile that never waivered, Elijah tilted his head in confusion and furrowed his brows. “I don’t see why…” He looked at Azeline with a puzzled look on his face. “We’d do that, seeing as we’re trying to get to the same destination, but I have no intentions of hurting your people.” He responded.

Azeline, who had been quietly observing the exchange, interjected. "If we're going to do this, we need to do it soon." Her voice was calm but carried a note of urgency. "The longer we linger, the more chance we give them to spot us and make the first move."

Sofan nodded in agreement with a grim expression. He understood the tactical disadvantage of hesitation and the risk of allowing the enemy to seize the initiative. “Aye, let's be done with this.”

Seeing the consensus, Elijah slapped Azeline's shoulder, a gesture of camaraderie and readiness. "I'm gonna head over to the Australians, let them know what's going down." He turned to Sofan, giving him a nod. "Be ready in 5 minutes."

Without waiting for a response, Elijah strode over to the LRPV, where Ian sat, his rifle resting on a chair, the barrel pointed directly at the back of their prisoner's head. Still bound and hooded, the knight captain sat motionless, a picture of defeated resignation.

As Elijah approached, Ian looked up, his face a mask of professional detachment. "What's the word, mate?" he asked, his voice low and steady. “The dickhead buy it?”

"We're all green," Elijah replied, folding his arms on top of the rear of the vehicle and leaning against it to rest. "Conditions are going. We're good to proceed." He then nodded to the knight captain. "We're also going to cut this shitter loose and at the same time,” jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating Sofan. “Aze and I are gonna dispose of this guy."

An eyebrow on Ian's raised slightly at the development, and they’re getting rid of the village head RIGHT NOW. However, he didn't question it and didn't ask for justification or explanation. He knew they were getting rid of the bastard due to how squirrely he’d been, but it was surprising.

But he couldn’t help but smirk at how clever it was as well. Using the pretext of a bandit negotiations gone wrong to get rid of a thorn in your side. "Roger that," he said as the barrel of his rifle remained trained on their prisoner's head. "And the bandits? Or whatever the cunts are?"

A glint of anticipation in his eyes as Elijah's grin took on a feral edge. "Smoke 'em," he said, his voice a low growl. "Soon as we gut Sofa or whatever the fuck his name is, just waste the fucks except the dickhead with the big axe."

Ian nodded in satisfaction. "With pleasure," he said, his finger caressing the trigger guard. "Well played, yanks.”

Elijah clapped his hands together in silent acknowledgment that they were on the same page. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away with Azeline where Sofan was still starting to get ready.

As he approached, he could see the tension in his postures, the coiled readiness of a herbivore about to take flight. Azeline, on the other hand, had her hand resting on the hilt of her blade as she met Sofan’s gaze with a nod.

"Let's do this," Elijah said in a low rumble. "Stay sharp, stay alert. And don’t let anyone sweet talk you get ya in the back.”

Sofan snorted, his eyes narrowing at Elijah's warning. "As if I'd be foolish enough to let a bandit take my rear," he scoffed, his pride bristling at the implication. "I've dealt with their kind before, boy. I know their tricks."

A small, amused smile spread across Elijah's face as he turned and gestured towards the waiting vehicles. "Then let's not keep them waiting," he said, his tone light but with an undercurrent of steel.

It took a matter of minutes for the vehicles to navigate the rough terrain, their engines growling as they ate up the distance to the designated staging area. The clearing, chosen for its strategic position and clear lines of sight, was the perfect spot to set their plan in motion.

As the LRPV carrying the prisoner rolled to a stop, Azeline was already in motion. With deft, practiced movements, she unchained the knight captain, her eyes never leaving his face. "Listen carefully," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "If you try anything stupid, I'll gut you like a fish."

The man groaned, his one good eye blinking against the sudden light as Azeline removed the sack from his head. His other eye, swollen shut from her earlier ministrations, gave him a lopsided, almost comical appearance.

But there was nothing funny about the situation. As Azeline bound his hands tightly with rope, the knight captain could feel the eyes of the otherworldly operators on him, their gazes hard and unforgiving.

"These men," Azeline continued, jerking her head towards the operators, "they have boomsticks. You saw what those boomsticks can do. So don't fuck with them, or they'll end you."

The knight captain swallowed hard, the memory of the otherworlders' devastating weapons still fresh in his mind. He knew, with a sinking certainty, that any attempt to escape would be met with swift and lethal force.

As Azeline finished her work and trotted after the men in the distance, the other vehicle was already moving out, seeking a better position to provide support if needed. Sofan, flanked by four of the otherworldly humans, began to march towards the location of the bandits while putting on an air of relative important albeit subdued

Elijah, had snagged a ballistics shield from the Australians as he took point and marched out in the open field. His eyes scanned the tree line in search for any sign of movement. Any hint of people hiding and waiting to ambush them. However, as far as he could tell, no soul was in those trees, which was confirmed by the drone lingering above.

Azeline trotted to catch up, drawing her weapon and getting ready as the tension in the air started to grow. The weight of the impending confrontation was bearing down on them all. But beneath it, there was a sense of anticipation, a excitement to finally put their plans into action.

As they approached the bandit's position, Elijah's mind was already racing, calculating angles and lines of fire. He knew that the success of their mission, the safety of the caravan, and their own lives depended on the next few moments.

And as the first signs of the bandits came into view, as the sound of rough laughter and clinking metal reached their ears… He knew he was past the point of no return. It was all or nothing.

The well-equipped bandits, fifteen in number, slinked towards the approaching village leader and the otherworlders, their movements confident and professional. They held their weapons with a casual ease, a clear indication of their competence and experience.

Their laughter and cackling filled the air, a sound that spoke of a cruel amusement, a sense that they viewed their uninvited guests as little more than fools walking willingly into a trap. They moved with a predatory grace like wolves circling their prey.

And as they drew closer, Elijah's gaze was drawn to the man at their head. The one man Azeline had pointed out earlier as Einar's goon, and he was a rough-looking character. With a face scarred by battle and eyes that gleamed with a cold, he sauntered over with a confidence that suggested he already won the battle.

The man bandit leader’s posture radiated confidence as he spoke, "Well, well, well," he drawled in a mocking voice. "What do we have here? A bunch of lost little lambs wandering into the lion's den?"

A chorus of harsh and grating chuckles left his men’s mouths as they spread out to confront Sofan and the otherworlders. Even though they eyed these strangers with a wary gaze, they still held her weapons lazily.

If their leader didn’t quite take them seriously, then why should they as well? However, despite his confidence, the bandit leader's gaze swept over the group, taking in their humble attire but unfamiliar weapons. There was a flicker of suspicion. A flash of doubt as his eyes went to the black or tan rods in their hands and then to their equally strange carriage.

Shaking his head, his attention then shifted to Sofan as a sneer twisting his lips. "And you, old man. What's your game? You think you can just waltz into our territory with a bunch of foreign dogs at your heels. What do ya want?"

He spat on the ground in contempt. "Either lost your mind, or you've come to pay tribute. And judging by the look of you, I'm guessing it's the latter."

Sofan bristled, his pride stung by the man's words, but before he could respond, Elijah stepped forward with his rifle dangling casually from his chest. "We're not here to pay tribute," he said in a calm and even voice.

Snapping his head to the side, Sofan looked at Elijah with a shocked expression. Their entire goal here was to pay tribute so they could pass through peacefully and only move towards aggression if it was absolutely necessary.

But the otherworlder immediately went to hostilities.

Seemingly unfazed by the village head’s look, Elijah pressed on with a nonchalant attitude. "You're Einar's boy, right?" he asked in a casual yet probing tone.

The leader frowned as his grip tightened around the shaft his axe. "I dunno what ya talkin’ about, boy." he growled while shifting into a more ready stance and narrowing his eyes dangerously.

A huff of amusement left Elijah’s mouth as he looked the leader up and down, but his gaze shifted to the bandits lingering in the rear. "And you lot work for Simol?”

The demand hung in the air as the bandits exchanged worried glances. A mix of confusion and anger grew on their faces as they drew their weapons. "What's it to ya, foreigner?" one of them spat, echoing their leader's dangerous edge.

“Eh, got business with the man.” Elijah shrugged and slapped his side pouch, which caused an audible jingle to echo. “I owe him some money, and I’d like to get this debt out of the way.”

"Ah, forgive us, but Simol is currently indisposed at the moment." An evil cackle left the mouth of a more dense bandit, hinting at some sinister meaning behind his words. “But we’d gladly take it off ya hands!” An oof echoed out from the one who made the ominous statement as his comrade jabbed him in the side, especially wheh noticed something out of the corner of their eye starting to approach.

Flanking them from the side was a strange rectangular cart moving upon its own power just barely a hundred meters away. The thing came to a stop, and the top of it buzzed with activity, with people dismounting and pointing strange black objects in their direction. The vehicle's presence seemed to unsettle them as their eyes shifted nervously.

"What the fuck is that?" one of them muttered with his grip tightening around his weapon.

Elijah shrugged in a nonchalant manner, not even bothering to acknowledge the Austrian LRPV's presence. "Don't worry about it. Focus on us right now. I'm asking you a question." He said, snapping his fingers to refocus their attention on him

The casual dismissal seemed to anger the bandits further as their postures grew even more aggressive. The leader stepped forward with his face twisted into a snarl. “Don’t worry about it!? The fuck you mean!?” He snarled as his eyes shifted back and forth. “That thing comes any closer, and I swears to the gods I’ll cut ya down where ya stand!”

"What happened to Simol?" Elijah pressed in an infuriatingly calm voice, ignoring the threat. "Why'd you try to kill Azeline?"

At the mention of Azeline's name, the leader's gaze snapped to Elijah as his eyes widened in recognition and sudden unease. But before he could respond, a new voice cut through the tension.

"Hey there, Tamos!" Azeline called out, emerging from behind Elijah after finally being able to catch up. The woman waved her hand joyfully as a bright smile spread across her face. "Long time no see!"

Tamos, the leader of this band of freelancers and bandits, stared at Azeline in utter disbelief. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. He seemed to be frozen where he stood as his mind struggled to process the sudden appearance of a woman he thought was long dead.

But Azeline wasn't done. In a fluid motion, she drew her sword with the blade gleaming in the sunlight. And before anyone could react, she plunged it into Sofan's chest, the razor-sharp edge slicing through flesh and bone with sickening ease.

Sofan's eyes widened as a gasp of shock and pain escaped his lips. Gladeheart tumbled to the floor as the village leader staggered back, his hands clutching at the gushing wound and blood pouring between his fingers.

Then, before anyone else could react, an unholy barrage of unending snaps and cracks erupted as every weapon on the LRPV opened fire and made its presence known by gunning down the mass of bandits behind Tamos.

Elijah turned his head and made eye contact with Azeline as screams and yelps erupted from where the bandits stood. “He’s all yours, have fun.” The man gestured towards Tamos and handed her a ballistic shield.

A cold and ruthless smile spread across Azelines face.

"Now then," she growled in a sadistic voice as she marched towards her shocked prey. "Let's talk about that passage fee, shall we?"