Tabula Rasa: Adventures In A New World

Clack!

A decently long sword crashes against the flat of Krvavy’s axe, its reddish-brown blade utterly failing to divert, redirect, or even slow that sweeping strike.

Thmp...!

This bulky knight is forced a step back, air driven from his lungs despite the layers of soft fabric that rest beneath his articulated armour. “Hhhhhhh...!” He grunts and groans, batting away that already retreating axe.

“Hah! See Vasyl?” Snickering laughter carries over from the sidelines. “Not even your extra padding is enough to keep the wind from being knocked out of you!”

“Shut it! Haah! I barely felt a thing!” Not a single soul witnessing this show believes that boastful lie. Especially not those who have already taken similar hits tonight, having sparred with this barbaric bodyguard earlier in the eve.

Clack...!

“Still think you are being ‘fair’ for not using that shield of yours, Vasyl?” One of the other nearby knights playfully asks, his voice raised into a shout.

Clack!

Overwhelmed and under assault, the heavyset knight tries to parry Krvavy’s axe... only for that recently grown training sword of his to get torn from his grip and sent flying away.

Clang...!

1.11 Damage dealt to [Vasyl]

“Hhhnn...!” A comparatively small but entirely solid hammerhead slams into Vasyl’s shoulder, more than enough force in that strike to make him stumble and stagger to the side. “I... yield...!” He reluctantly gasps.

“You gave it a good go.” Piotr steps forward, giving his fellow knight a firm pat on the back. “Though I must say... it was quite foolish of you to go against such a long axe with just a sword.”

“Yeah,” Krvavy slowly exhales, rolling her shoulders. “Still, it was a nice change of pace from all the polearms.”

“You are one to talk! That axe of yours is taller than each and every one of us!”

The Drakling dismissively waves in the vague direction of whatever knight just made that comment. She didn’t entirely recognize the voice, so she probably hasn’t sparred with him. Not yet.

“Damnit...!” Some other knight softly curses. “Looks like your chaperone is here...”

“Huh?” Krvavy finds herself glancing back at the ring of carriages, having to squint a little to see past the bright lanterns that surround this late night fight club.

In the distance, surrounded by darkness, stands Vera. Emerald eyes meet a pale pink pair as that albino maid’s piercing gaze cuts straight through this crowd of knights, glaring directly at the Drakling. Who very much sticks out among these men.

“Guess it is curfew time for you!” An armoured gauntlet casually clasps onto Krvavy’s shoulder. “Now then, don’t keep the lil’ missus waiting!” That jovial voice laughs again, gently shoving her forwards.

“What?” A different knight not so innocently asks, grinning from ear to ear as he sees a grimace creep onto Krvavy’s face. “Not a fan of that particular fair maiden?”

“Eh... Not really.” The Drakling honestly replies, watching as that aggressive albino’s expression grows even more hostile and impatient. “Not the biggest fan of having to wonder if I’ll wake up with a knife between my ribs.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” One of these knights reassures, his joking tone not exactly inspiring confidence. “She is more the type to slit your throat. Far more efficient and effective, that is.”

“Hahaha!” The cheery and chipper knight loudly laughs, making Krvavy feel a little guilty about not remembering his name. She is sure that he introduced himself at some point... “Yes, the good maid can be a bit cold! But do not take it personally! She is like that with all but our Lady!”

Krvavy subtly shakes her head. “Well... Guess I’ll be off. You lot have fun without me.” Her pale lips curl into a rather wry smile as glances over this crowd of about a dozen or so men. “And don’t stay up too late. You’re the ones with an actual job in the morning. I just have to sit around and play board games all day.”

“No need to brag.” Piotr warmly returns, earning a laugh from some of the others. “Good night.”

“Night.” Krvavy waves and heads off, resting her wooden axe over a shoulder.

“““Good Night!””” “Good Night.”

The clang of an armoured elbow bumping into a bulky breastplate echoes across these open plains, followed by another round of lighthearted laughter. “A bit slow there Vasyl. Sure you are not tired, old man?”

“Shut up, you whelp...”

Hardly a cloud hangs in the sky, yet still barely any light shines down from above. The two moons are dark, the larger one nothing more than a black circle and the smaller one soon to join it, only a sliver of silver left along its side. But, despite that relative darkness, Vera stands out from the shadows. Her snowy skin, pure white hair, and pristine apron almost make her shine like a beacon, contrasting beautifully against her mostly black uniform.

This isn’t the first time that Krvavy has had such a thought, and it definitely won’t be the last, but... If that girl was more bratty than bitchy, then the Drakling would almost certainly have fallen in love with her already. Vera is honestly a lot like Thea, though both brats would definitely feel insulted by that comparison...

“Follow.” The albino maid coldly orders, turning on her heel before the barbarian can even get close.

A single crimson coloured brow finds itself being raised. “Is it that time already?”

Vera visibly twitches, shooting Krvavy a hasty and brief – but still undeniably hateful – glare. “The Countess wishes to speak with you before retiring for the night.” She curtly states, displeasure clear in her voice.

“Alright.” Krvavy simply sighs and follows after that maid. The fact that she is even being fetched kind of answers her question.

It doesn’t take long until Rina comes into view.

“Oh, there you are.” The Countess looks up from a book, her beautiful face illuminated by the warm glow of a nearby campfire. “I hope that I did not interrupt your fun.” She breezily states, painted lips curling into a subtle and alluring smile as she looks Krvavy up and down. Her gaze lingers on the barbarian’s bare abs, that patch of pale skin glistening with a faint sheen of sweat, almost sparkling in the firelight.

“Not at all. I had just finished a fi-ght.” The Drakling immediately glances at the maid by her side, not even waiting for the tingling sensation of a cleaning spell washing over her to fade. Just how petty can this girl be...? “Do you need something?”

“No.” Rina gives her head a soft shake, the pearl earrings that dangles from her pointed ears jingling like quiet chimes. Her amethyst eyes glimmer as she gazes up at the towering Drakling standing before her. A silken ribbon is slipped between the pages of her book, before it is gently closed. “Yesterday and now today... You are quite quickly making friends with more and more of my knights. First the greenest, but soon enough my elites will flock around you as well~. Need I worry about you stealing them away~?”

Vera scowls as she hears that teasing tone enter her Lady’s voice. Those pale pink eyes of hers glare through the lenses of her glasses, focused entirely on a certain Drakling, as she wordlessly takes that book from Rina’s hands.

“Ha, no.” Krvavy lightly laughs, casually waving off that playful comment. “I mean... I only really know a few of their names, and that’s all. I don’t exactly know any of them beyond our little fights.”

“Come now, Krvavy~,” the Countess casually leans to the side, shifting slightly in her comfortable seat as she elegantly rests her chin on a delicate hand. “This is only the second day in which you have been sparring with my men, yes? You will have many more chances to familiarize yourself with them before our journey comes to an end. If that is what you wish, of course.” Her expression shifts from warm and friendly into an almost seductive look, gazing up at her tall Draconic bodyguard with twinkling amethyst eyes. “Perhaps I may pop over to watch one of your fights tomorrow~? It would be quite entertaining to see you in action, dear~.”

The albino maid by that noblewoman’s side visible bristles as such an affectionate word is used to describe someone other than herself. She clenches one of her gloved hands into a fist, clutching Rina’s book tightly to her chest while unblinkingly glaring at the Drakling.

“If... you want to, sure.” Krvavy tries to casually respond, unable to keep her face from heating up. “Just don’t expect anything too exciting. We were... mostly just hitting each other with sticks.”

“So humble~.” The half-Elf’s melodic voice gently caresses Krvavy’s senses. “Even without your magic, I am sure that it is not so simple~. It is much like a dance, yes~? A clash of will and skill, where both sides look for an opening or make their own~. Not unlike the games that we have played together, yes~?”

A deep red blush fills the cheeks of both barbarian and albino maid as Rina dares to be so blatant, so provocative. All while out here in the open, no less.

Rina easily rises to her feet. “Regardless, I must thank you for encouraging my men to train~. The drills they run can be quite... structured and orderly. Useful for parades, not so much for actual combat.” The faintest hint of a sigh underlines her words. “Perhaps, before the end of our journey, even the more experienced of my knights will spar with you? That is surely something which I would wish to witness, more so than any other fight~.”

Krvavy can’t help but shudder as a delicate finger, its manicured nail painted black like onyx, trails down her bare and muscled midsection. “Y-yeah, I, uh...”

“My, you can be quite cute at times~.” The Countess smiles and takes a step back. “Forgive me, I simply could not resist~. Ahem,” she softly clears her throat, straightening up and looking incredibly dignified... yet still quite seductive. “Last night was for Vera alone, but now I am yours once more~. I take it that you are ready, yes~? Good~. Now please, give me a few minutes to prepare myself~.”

With that, Rina rather abruptly turns and climbs into their carriage, her hips swinging side to side in a hypnotic rhythm. With much less grace, and absolutely no seductive intent, her blushing maid hastily scrambles after her. The openness of this whole conversation clearly left Vera a bit too flustered, because she didn’t even give Krvavy one last glare like she usually would...

The Drakling takes a long, deep breath. After a few seconds of holding it, she very slowly exhales.

There are a few other people milling about, mostly aides and support staff. And none of them, not even the knights, seem to be paying Krvavy much attention. Much to her relief.

The chair that Rina was sitting in mere moments ago creaks as the Drakling carefully drops her ass into it. Her tail, and the thick tassets that cover her hips, makes this seat much less comfortable than it otherwise should be.

Krvavy’s armoured fingers lazily drum on the matte black metal covering her leg.

She... doesn’t really have the patience to just sit here and wait. Not right now. Not after Rina so cruelly riled her up. She needs something to focus on...

The ring nestled so snugly on her lower right horn pulses in a way that only her eyes can see.

⟨Yes, my Ushumgal?⟩

A tinge of concern creeps into the back of Krvavy’s mind. ⟨I didn’t wake you up, did I?⟩ She doesn’t want to be a bother.

⟨No.⟩ Inanna’s voice carries across the connection between their two pieces of Far-Speaking jewellery, clear and steady despite the regrettably large distance keeping them apart. ⟨I was just getting ready for bed.⟩

The very corner of Krvavy’s pale lips twitches upward. ⟨So was I, kind of.⟩

Though they can’t see each other, this Dwarf is more than familiar enough with her Drakling to know exactly what Krvavy means. ⟨Enjoying your time with the Countess, are you?⟩ The faintest hint of amusement fills those otherwise neutral words.

⟨Yeah.⟩ The back of the barbarian’s head bumps into the very top of this comfortable seat, her gaze aimlessly climbing up to the countless stars scattered throughout the sky. ⟨But I still miss all of you.⟩

⟨Of course.⟩ Were Inanna here with Krvavy, then she would surely be smiling right now. Perhaps not widely, knowing who she is, but still smiling nonetheless. ⟨Beryl is doing quite well, if you were curious.⟩

The Drakling takes in the sight of those many motes hanging so high above these lands. ⟨I know.⟩ She softly replies. ⟨I ‘talked’ to her earlier. Has she seen the beryl Geode-Tree yet?⟩

⟨No. She can’t move that far from her own tree just yet. And I haven’t told her about it either: I’m waiting until it is fully grown, so that it is a better surprise.⟩ Inanna pauses for a moment. ⟨Admittedly, I am unsure of when any of the Geode-Trees will be ready. I don’t know how large they will become, but at the moment they are little more than saplings. Possibly only a fifth of the way to being fully grown? And then we must wait even longer before they produce geodes for us to harvest.⟩

⟨Well,⟩ Krvavy shrugs, and then immediately frowns a little, suddenly feeling rather self-conscious. It probably looks like she is talking to herself right now. Which... she kind of is... ⟨They were always going to be a long-term investment. Even more than the Ore Seeds.⟩

⟨Indeed. Now...⟩ The impression of Inanna slowly inhaling and exhaling is transmitted through their Far-Speaking jewellery. She is getting better at getting more than just her words across. ⟨I do not want to be the reason for you to keep the Countess waiting. So goodnight, my Ushumgal, my love. Enjoy yourself. And sleep well, afterwards.⟩

⟨I love you. Goodnight.⟩ Hardly a second after those affection words are ‘spoken’... the connection cuts out, going completely silent.

Yet still a warm smile plays at the Drakling’s lips as she rises to her feet. Her heartbeat quickens. She may not be able to cuddle with her girls like she would just love to, but... Rina is waiting for her. And there is no way that Krvavy is going to complain about being able to spend the night with that absolutely gorgeous noblewoman~.

The barbarian idly bites the inside of her cheek. Her emerald eyes meticulously trail across the table, looking over the various models scattered about. Hesitantly, she pushes a wedge shaped clump of models forward, angling them slightly in the process.

Directly ahead of that wedge stands a line of simplistic bow-wielding models. A line that is, for the most part, facing away. Judging by the angles, Krvavy won’t be able to charge into the rear, but the flank is wide open, so –

The Countess calmly rotates a blob of bristly spears, using a measuring tape to ensure that she makes the most of its movement.

“I am not a fan of cavalry.” Krvavy plainly states, frowning a little as her planned charge is completely ruined. In retaliation, she pushes her own line of archers onto a green felt patch, giving them cover and a perfect shot at Rina’s bowmen.

A disarming smile fills this elegant noblewoman’s face, her expression unreadable as she idly watches Krvavy collect nearly two dozen dice, one for each model archer in that mass. “Using or going against them?” She curiously asks, amethyst eyes pointedly glancing over at the various units of simplistic horsemen that she has scattered across her side of the table.

“Both.” The Drakling sighs, slowly picking out the dice that rolled too low. Looks like she got fifteen hits off. Now, how many of those are kills...?

“They are complicated and annoying in equal measure, yes?” Rina rolls for her units defence, losing only five of her bow-wielding models. Lucky... “A poor charge squanders their use. As does an unlucky roll, but that at least is intentional. Not everything goes to plan.”

The albino maid, a silent observer to all of this, shoots Krvavy a glare for seemingly no reason as she turns to the next page of the book held in her gloved hands.

“In all honesty,” the Countess continues on, sliding one of her own wedges off to the side and setting it up for some flanking charge in a turn or two. “This is one of the aspects in which this game fails to reflect reality the most. There are no rules for disengaging from combat, so cavalry cannot pull back and charge again, not unless they rout their foe upon the charge or suffer enough losses to be routed in turn. Nor are there rules for charging through a line. Each unit, no matter how small, is treated as an immovable block.”

“I mean, its fine as a game, I guess.” Krvavy shrugs, sliding a block of infantry forward to hopefully keep her archers from getting charged later. “Maybe it is also good to help learn some basic tactics, but...”

The pointy ears of this pink-skinned half-Elf wiggle with warmth, those vibrant eyes of hers glimmering with an affectionate light as she meets the Drakling’s gaze. “Exactly. That is how I see it as well.” She agrees, moving yet another wedge of cavalry, in a direction where not many of Krvavy’s melee units are... “Even if it were a perfect recreation of a battle, this game would still be a poor teacher. There is nothing beyond each match. No consequence for losing half your units or more. No grand strategy. No logistics. It is –”

Knock knock knock knock knock!

The black painted lips of this elegant noblewoman twist down into a frown as she suddenly leans to the side, moving away from the door and towards the window opposite it, squishing against her maid in the process. Her delicate brow furrows as she parts the curtains and looks outside.

Knock knock, knock!

“Can you get that, Krvavy?” The faintest bit of tension underlines those words, turning what would otherwise have been a request into an order.

Krvavy simply nods, scooting to the side and rising to her feet. Relief washes over her, mingling with growing worry, as she takes just a second to straighten her armour. Well, most of it. The hip plates are laying on the ground instead of being attached to her loincloth belt, simply because they are a bit cumbersome to wear while sitting. But still, missing just a piece of her armour is a big upgrade to what she was like an hour or so ago...

The fact that she has not yet been caught with her cock out is, honestly, a miracle.

Knock kno–

“My Lady!” The mounted knight on the other side of the door immediately shouts, his raised fist quickly shifting into a salute. “Th-there is something on the road ahead!”

“What is it?” Rina calls back, safely behind the armoured barbarian serving as her bodyguard.

“Some... some sort of animal! The horses refuse to go near it!” A nervous waver underlines that knight’s voice, a feeling mirrored by his mount as it shuffles in place, hooves anxiously and skittishly scraping against the packed dirt road.

A quick glance is all it takes for the Drakling to confirm that she is indeed still wearing the enchanted Ring of Pacified Presence on her lower left horn.

“Krvavy. Can you go and see what the trouble is?” The Countess’ tone is calm and steady, almost casual even. A convincingly composed façade.

“Yeah.” Krvavy turns to see Vera standing there, holding her oversized axe with both hands. She gives the unfriendly maid a thankful nod as she takes her Soulbound weapon, before stepping back and unceremoniously hopping down from this carriage.

The door is swiftly shut and locked behind her.

“Th-this way!” The knight urges her on... completely unnecessarily. This whole convoy is travelling in one direction down a single road. It is pretty easy to tell which way is forward.

Krvavy’s half armoured fingers cling tightly onto the haft of her axe as she keeps pace with the trotting horse of this mounted knight, nearly having to jog to do so. Most of the people she can see – the drivers and escorting knights – seem rather confused by this unplanned stop. But that changes as she gets close to the front.

A feeling of unease creeps into her bones.

The sound of whinnying horses and stomping hooves echoes around this convoy of carriages. The knights struggle to keep their horses still. The drivers struggle to keep theirs from breaking free from the reins.

Krvavy’s throat goes dry as she sees the animal up ahead.

It...

It is a deer...?

And not even a large one.

But...

Something is clearly wrong with it.

The head of that thing is tilted to the side, hanging limply at the height of its chest. The grey and colourless fur that covers its emaciated body is matted and marred... Countless festering wounds are visible through the holes in its patchy pelt.

An oily black liquid oozes from those gaping wounds, thick and viscous and devoid of all light. The ground beneath and around this... deer... has been polluted by that utter darkness. It is bubbling and hissing, vapour rising from sullied and spoiled soil, staining the stagnant air. A malevolent, uncaring haze bleeds outward, a putrefying rot upon all that is real.

Krvavy’s mind screams in warning, fear, and rage as she advances further. Each step is a struggle, a battle against conflicting and clashing instincts.

This creature is dangerous. The darkness infecting it is a hazard to all that exists.

Even so much as being near it is a risk..! If that taint infects Krvavy then she, and all of her girls, will be doomed to a fate worse than death...!

It must be purged! Destroyed! It cannot be allowed to remain in this world!

Krvavy’s blood freezes and burns, her heart struggling to even beat as the muscles that make it up rebel against their use. She leans so heavily on her axe, treating that faithful weapon as nothing more than a walking stick, its wobbled wooden haft holding her up. Stabbing pain erupts behind her eyes as she stares at this half-dead deer, unable to look away and unable to blink.

Its limp head sluggishly swings towards her. Milky, dull eyes stare back, peering into her soul. The mangy chest of this tainted beast shudders and shakes as it swells and contracts, breathing with deceptive ease. It shakily lifts a cloven hoof and steps–

-3.71 Health

Crimson flames erupt from deep within the Drakling’s core, surging through her throat and bursting from her mouth. Agony engulfs Krvavy’s very being as her sensitive and fleshy insides begin to sizzle, simultaneously being seared, singed, scorched, and scalded.

-2.86 Health

-5.73 Health

The tainted deer stands unblinking as blood-red fire engulfs its form. Wisps of darkness eat away at the light, dampening that inferno. The black ooze, the inky vapour, the affront to all that is...

-6.84 Health

It burns. That darkness burns beneath this Dragon’s bloodflame. It cannot withstand her rage, the blazing radiance of her soul.

███.██ Damage dealt to [███████ ████]

Rancid smoke rises into the air, threatening to escape. As if in response to that, this crimson inferno pulses and beats like a heart, growing taller and brighter and engulfing all that dares to challenge her dominion.

-10.23 Health

-9.63 Health

███.██ Damage dealt to [███████ ████]

███.██ Damage dealt to [███████ ████]

███.██ Damage dealt to [███████ ████]

-13.92 Health

█,███.██ Damage dealt to [███████ D██r]

█,███.██ Damage dealt to [███████ De█r]

█,███.██ Damage dealt to [███████ Deer]

[Northern Spotted Deer] has been slain!

+75 Experience

-8.96 Health

-7.34 Health

The plume of crimson flames rushing through the conduit that is Krvavy suddenly sputters and dies.

Aching agony arcs this barbarian’s entire body, her very being. Her lungs burn. Her throat is raw and charred. Dried, burnt blood cakes her chin and painfully parched lips. Her legs buckle, muscles strained as her Soulbound weapon does all it can to support her weight.

Nothing remains where the... deer... once stood. No bones, no tainted darkness, no corruption upon the land. All has been purged, leaving just a hellish scar of charred earth and molten slag. Puddles of her burning blood and flames linger around that blistering wound, sizzling as they continue to melt away at the packed dirt of this lonely road.

“Khhkk...” Krvavy struggles to breathe. Each inhale brings pain. Each exhale releases a cloud of ashen smoke.

-0.47 Health

You have been inflicted with a Major Wound: Severe Internal Burns. Your Health Regeneration has been reduced by 75% and will not have an effect on the wounded area(s).

Krvavy’s core pangs as she tries to pull mana from its empty reserves. The synthetic Heartstone merged into her Soulbound weapon is equally drained.

This Drakling’s dry eyes glance towards the large head of her axe. Sunlight glimmers on its sharp edge.

Her heavily armoured left hand grasps at that weapon’s sturdy haft, keeping her body steady as her right reaches up, bare palm open...

“Th-thank you...” A mounted knight – the same one as before? – shakily gasps, voice tense but relieved. His posture is straight and rigid, almost completely unmoving, as his helmet points towards the molten scar that now mars the road.

Krvavy grits her teeth and nods. She can bear the pain a little longer.

Silence hangs overhead, the horses calm and still.

With a shallow breath, Krvavy turns and slowly heads back. It takes all of her will and all of her strength to stay upright, to not stumble and fall. To hide how weak she feels. The fact that not a single knight helps her walk must mean that she is doing a good job at masking her pain and exhaustion...

The door to one of the carriages swings inward. A decorated staircase folds out from beneath it, thumping into the ground.

Pale pink eyes glare down at the Drakling, narrowed into slits.

A gloved hand grabs at Krvavy’s wrist, squeezing with surprising strength as she is all but pulled up those wooden steps.

Click.

Spectral hands manifest in front of the Drakling’s face, their delicate fingers grasping at her mask-like helmet before lifting it off her head, its metal cheek guards warped and glowing with heat. The fur padding that lines the back of that mask is visibly singed. But that damage is gradually being undone, metal bending itself back into place and fur regrowing. Faster now that it isn’t on her person.

“Drink.”

Krvavy winces as a cold glass bottle is pressed against her cracked and bloodied lips. But she does as ordered and painfully swallows the slick and bitter liquid within. Her body tingles as the taste of charred flesh and metallic blood overwhelms her returning senses.

+100 Health

The all-consuming pain fades into little more than a dull throb.

Krvavy opens her mouth, but not a word can be heard. Only a choked gurgle. Her throat... is stiff and clogged. Her aching lungs strain. No air can make it in or out. Her stomach turns.

Panic grips at her heart as she stumbles to the side, throwing open the sliding doors that block her path, one after the other. Her armoured knees clang into the tiled floor of that cramped bathroom stall. The toilet’s lid is torn open just in time for that porcelain bowl to catch the charred chunks of flesh and blood spewing past her lips.

Translucent fingers softly trail across the barbarian’s scalp, some providing a reassuring massage while others simply hold her hair back, keeping those crimson strands from getting in the way.

Soon, Krvavy is left gasping for air above a bowl of black and bloody viscera, remnants of her cremated throat. It takes a few flushes to drain it all away.

“What was out there?” The Countess quietly asks, gently rubbing a wet cloth over the Drakling’s face, scrubbing away the layers of caked and baked blood that cover what should be pale skin.

Krvavy is not sure how to respond. She honestly doesn’t know what that was. And glancing back at the notifications doesn’t help. Not even a little. “A... a sick... deer...” She hoarsely whispers, throat raw and sensitive.

“I received a... more slightly detailed report... while you were dealing with it.” Rina sounds almost hesitant to admit that, her amethyst eyes glancing in the direction of the closed and locked door. A gesture that sees the maid hovering behind her step just a little close, a gloved hand coming to rest on her shoulder, doing what it can to provide reassurance. “Was the deer... undead?”

“Worse...” The Drakling shakes her head, brow furrowing deeply. Was it worse...? Yes. There is no doubt in her mind, in her soul, that whatever that thing truly was... it is far, far worse than anything undead could ever be. But why...?

A stifling silence fills this carriage. Countless questions linger in the minds of all those present, the answers that they seek so far beyond reach. A fact that they are all painfully aware of.

“We... are no longer within the lands and territory of Raseyne. Anything beyond our carriages is beyond my authority.” Regret hangs from the Countess’ every word. “Let us pray that there are no more like it, and that you had dealt with the only one...” Rina slowly... tiredly... sighs. “Come now. Sit and relax.”

A dozen glowing purple hands grab at the barbarian, helping her back onto her feet, guiding her back to the comforts of the couch.

Rina’s pearly white teeth lightly press into her bottom lip. “I... am sorry.” She abashedly apologizes, delicate fingers clasped together. “That potion... I did not expect it to be so... intense. Would you like something to drink? To wash away the taste?”

“Beryl’s nectar, please...” Krvavy grimaces as she utters those words. She may feel remarkably better now that she did just a few minutes ago, but... shedding layers of her burnt insides and vomiting it all out isn’t something she can just push aside and forget about.

A glass clinks down onto the table, next to the lines and blocks of models frozen mid battle. The gourd bottle is popped open soon after. A seductively sweet scent leisurely dances through the air as that glass is filled and handed over to the barbarian.

Krvavy takes a sip of the delicious honeyed liquid that her Dryad so generously provided, swirling it around her mouth before hesitantly swallowing what she can. A gentle and reassuring tingle spreads across her inhuman tongue and down her raw, freshly healed throat. The taste of blood and charred flesh remains, tainting the wonderfully fulfilling flavour of her sweet berry’s nectar, but it fades away after a second and third swirled sip.

Vera slowly refills the Drakling’s glass.

“You– hhghk...” Krvavy coughs, frowning a little over how phlegmy her voice feels. Another sip seems to fix that, for the most part. “You can have some too, if you’d like...” Her emerald eyes drop down to the cup in her hand, staring at the translucent fluid it contains. “This... tastes better fresh...”

The Countess carefully sits down beside her Draconic bodyguard, placing an elegant hand on the uppermost part of Krvavy’s thigh, that small stretch of pale skin not covered by any armour. “Does your magic usually cause you so much harm?” Her soft fingers tenderly rub the barbarian’s toned leg, concern apparent in her eyes and in her tone.

“It can sting or hurt a little, but this... I went a bit overboard... That... that thing...” Krvavy grits her carnivorous teeth and clenches her tense jaw, hard enough for it to hurt. “It needed to burn...”

Rina’s delicate brow furrows ever further as that Drakling continues to stare off into space. Her own expression lightens a little as Vera hands her a glass of freshly poured nectar. “Oh...!” Her pink cheeks grow ever so slightly more vibrant. “This is quite good...! Surprisingly fruity, with a flavour that is difficult to place... What sort of plant did Beryl harvest this from?”

“Heh~...” Krvavy can’t help but laugh a little, a wry smile playing at her pale and still parched lips. “A very special one that she only just grew before I left. I’ll let her know that you like it~.”

“Please do.” The Countess’ elegant face scrunches ever so slightly in thought, leaving her looking so incredibly adorable. “I wonder how well this would mix with hard alcohol...?”

The barbarian takes another sip of Beryl’s sweet and fruity nectar, basking in the gentle waves of tingling bliss that each mouthful sends through her body and mind. It is almost as if the Dryad is here herself, cuddling and sharing her warmth...

That feeling is nearly enough to wash away her worries. Nearly.

Krvavy can’t quite take her mind off of that deer. Off of the darkness that was infecting it...