Two Paladins and a Revolutionary
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Anything suited for being here ought to be left here comrade.â
Harlow didnât give themselves the benefit of tensing. It wasnât the worst thing theyâd been told, though the degradation normally came from people like Bradly. To say that it hadnât managed to sting a little despite Harlowâs expectations would have been a lie. Regardless, it wasnât like he was entirely wrong. It was enough to silence Harlow again, the weight a little heavier than it had been before as their guide rambled about the futility of their quest.
Then, the crying drew the scout like a siren call. Harlowâs brow furrowed as they followed. Losing sight of their guide was sure to be a problem and adding another member to the missing persons list hardly seemed productive. Their center of gravity adjusted quickly to the slopeâ
at least a lifetime of maintaining a careful balance had given them that muchâbut something about the sobbing struck Harlow as⊠off. Hazel eyes narrowed, trying to pinpoint what it was that bothered them about the wailing as Preston called to the white-clothed victim.
ââŠwait.â It was loud. Too loud for the situation. The white fabric was too pristine, the wailing too intact. In a place like this? Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Too many pieces didnât fit into place when they measured it against experience.
Impulsively, Harlow held an arm out to try and halt their companions from advancing, making sure to move forward enough to try and block Prestonâs path.
â
Wait. Iâll go first.â Hazel eyes remained locked on their wailing victim as their volume dipped lower, enough so that it wouldnât carry too far from their group. â
Thereâs something off.â
Thalorianâs eyes narrowed as they surveyed the scene, their instincts screaming caution. The air was thick with tension, and every shadow seemed to hide a potential threat. Despite his deep respect for Harlowâs intuition, the situation felt profoundly wrong on multiple levels. The eerie silence was only broken by the constant sound of water dripping, adding to the unsettling atmosphere.
Stepping closer to Harlow, Thalorian placed a reassuring hand on their shoulder, his other hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. â
I trust you, Harlow, but letâs be careful. Iâll be right behind you, ready to step in if anything goes wrong." Thalorian offered a reassuring smile, hoping to bolster Harlowâs confidence. The heat emanating off their touch was a stark contrast to the cold, foreboding environment around them. "
We need to get through this together.â
Thalorianâs gaze remained fixed on the crying figure, every muscle in his body tense and ready for action. The figureâs sobs echoed through the desolate space, each one a reminder of the potential danger lurking. He knew Harlowâs rebirths provided a significant advantage, but the potential danger still gnawed at his conscience. The memory of past battles and the scars they bore served as a constant reminder of the stakes.
â
Letâs proceed with caution. Your instincts are usually spot on, but we canât afford any mistakes here.â Thalorianâs voice was steady, but there was an underlying urgency that couldnât be ignored.
With a determined nod, Thalorian signaled their readiness, prepared to support Harlow in whatever came next. The bond between them was unspoken but strong, forged through countless trials and shared hardships. As they moved forward, Thalorianâs senses were on high alert, every fiber of their being focused on protecting Harlow and ensuring their missionâs success.
While they were discussing amongst themselves, the figure continued to sob, the cacophony of weeping had simmered into a softer, pained weeping. The wailing only breaking between a few words. "Help." "Help me..." Their voice began to sound muffled even, as if her own mouth had been covered with a cloth. "Please...help me. It...It hurts!"
As the final words were spoken by the kneeling figure it was hit by a gust of wind strong enough to blow a normal human against the nearby wall. Renauld had been focusing on finishing the spell that normally enabled his flight while his two companions were speaking. At least, that was its usual purpose. Hopefully the gust would be enough to reveal whatever the figure was beneath its garb without injuring it too badly if it happened to be a normal human being.
However, he doubted the last bit enough that he was already moving to grip his sash, ready to fling another spell at whatever he had just pissed off.
The figure was pushed against the wall by the force of wind, its pale hood parting to reveal the face of some middle-aged woman, curly black hair, screaming only further in pain. There was some sort of...fleshy appendage attached to her lower half, which seemed to stretch further into the darkness of the hallway.
"Oh the pain!" She wailed, her unusually pale voice growing that much more sickly, until it started to..deteriorate? Her facial structure sagged and inverted, almost like a balloon that was losing air. Her cries continued as her form crumpled. "Help me! Please! Help!" Through the pressure of air against her, the shrinking figure attempted to reach out to her attackers, but the arm couldn't get far as it shrank to nothing beneath the robe. And some seconds later, the form of the woman was completely gone; Only the strange white cloak remained, and the appendage attached to it- which now began to rapidly retract itself further down the hallway.
'Did that face look like a missing person's?' Harlow wanted to ask. If so, then she could be considered dead--most of the missing could be considered dead. Instead, their body started to move. They didn't consider themselves smart by any means, but they spent enough time on the job to know of rumors and posters. A look back to Renauld, brief and expectant--
he probably knew the bounties better than them, right?--was all that Harlow gave themselves the time for before they took off in pursuit of the lump of flesh.
The monk, wasn't it? The thought made Glory's fire burn hot, too hot--the discomfort crossed into pain.
Protect the guide. Follow the appendage. No benefit in adding a fresh corpse, but they might find some of the others. Probably not. Maybe it was a good thing it was the three of them and not another group. Harlow had plenty of things they could have said, but thoughts rarely ever managed to condense themselves into words when they belonged to Harlow.
As Harlow began to run, Thalorian followed suit, unsheathing his sword and letting it slice through the air behind him. His shoulder was poised for defense, ready to react if necessary, as he trailed Harlowâs soft, warm path. The creature they pursued was no longer humanâif it ever had been. Could it have once been one of the missing people? Perhaps it was genuinely crying out for help. Was that grotesque appendage controlling them, or merely
using them like some parasitic fungus? Thalorianâs mind raced with questions. All he knew for certain was that this abomination was exploiting people for some sinister purpose, and he was determined to uncover the truth.
