But I say, “NOT!”

To prevent my commision from being anymore damaged, as the cracked jaw could become an issue, I put my greatsword at his throat.

Of course I’m referring to the dull side, I put the DULL side to his neck.. 

With my sheer brute strength I kept it from pressing into him, even with the force from the tail pressing down.

“Hey now… you should let up so I can get out of here!” I knew the creature would take nothing to my words. Though it became agitated at my addition to its challenge.

I could never wrap my head around the idea of these things. A crippled, partially intelligible, quarter thoughtful being conjured from the delinquent debt of some arcane…

Does the gods bring us punishment for their actions, or is this some naturally occurring phenomenon?

I don’t think there is anyone around who could answer this question reliably. 

But getting back to what’s at hand.

Gripping firmly on my greatsword I threw it upward, knocking back the Tache’s tail. 

In the same breath I dragged my sword across its lower set of arms, getting deep enough to cut, but barely enough to draw blood. 

It retracted slightly as a reaction. 

With this I went to slash at it again, aiming for its stub of a head. 

The Tache had a neck, but it was so short you’d have mistaken it for simply having been nonexistent. 

Its traps were developed enough to consume what would have been an inkling of a neck.

My blade was stopped before landing on its target, as expected. A tendril prevented my attack by tanking the blow in its curled “hand.” 

Its other one is still secured around the leg of Layne.

Speaking of him, the spineless bastard. His eyes had gone white, so at some point during the struggle he had passed out cold, his eyes rolled completely into the back of his head.

Strength was something the Tache outclassed me by over a mile, so I surrendered my blade to it. In exchange, my hand let out a compressed spark. 

An ember-like particle landed on the still clutching right tendril of the Tache. For a moment nothing happened as it seemed like the lack of fuel had it burn out. 

Then, as if materialized out of another plane entirely, its “arm” ignited into a raging fire. 

It was so sudden that the monster flung itself off of Layne, away from me too, and vigorously tried to flatten the blaze on the dry dirt below.

It dropped my great sword, luckily.

Its attempts at putting the fire out did prove futile, as the inferno grew only bigger, as it ate away at its arm. 

Though, that may have been a slightly exaggerated account as to its reaction, as I didn’t get a good look. 

I had spent no time grabbing my sword, shoving it under my garments, and tossing Mr. Limpdick over my shoulder.

My sprint had been faster than I expected. 

I guess my weighted running practice has actually been paying off… maybe I should incorporate it more into my routine.

The creature won’t chase, as it typically just guards a set area. So there was no value in spending time courting an unfortunate death!

Now, my new foe was the transport of all three of these blokes. 

Physically speaking it isn’t an issue. Yet, taking the fact that I alone need to secretly get three fully grown men from here to a filthy slum, over three miles away, makes it a bit more challenging.

…

After some time I had managed to drag them, painstakingly, through the forest. 

Right now, over both of my shoulders, was the leader of the three men. He was the last one I needed to get back into town.

Sometime during the numbing experience I wondered, “What does anyone get from these buffoons being dead, and WHY DO I NEED THEIR BODIES!?”

I could have spent hours, dissecting, splitting, crushing, raping, mutilating, but instead I’m left with clean up duty.

Just maybe I should have declined. Didn’t think I’d be stuck in this dingy place, it's just not fair to me. 

I’m outside yet it feels like a smokers paradise, these shit shoveling Tarks are so damn dirty I can barely keep my eyes open, and I still cannot, for the life of me, understand what anyone would get from keeping their carcasses.

But hey, that’s not my job. I’ll stick to the stick and poke(ing) mindless slop that I call a profession.

He traversed the forest with the deceased on his back, and during some down time he caught and chopped a wild hog into pieces. Taking sections of its now estranged organs for himself.

When it came time to walk on the road he threw a cover over the body. It was still on his shoulders, but now comfortably hidden. 

Carts coming to and fro all went about their merry ways. 

But during the final stretch to the slums, where no one would even question an openly displayed body, a more firm looking carriage stopped in his path.

“Yup. These fucks are sure spending our tithe accordingly…” More than enough sarcasm spewed from his words.

Stepping from a now opened door was a truly ironclad man. Head to toe, leaving no room for interpretation, was a crusade style knight.

The mark on its chest was some symbol. To be honest, I couldn't care less about whatever sect this guy comes from, they’re all the same. 

Zealots hellbent on bending the likelihood of them going to whatever colorful hell imagined by their god.

“You. What is that you have covered?” The suit pointed at a thin trail coming from behind me. 

Somehow I didn’t notice the dropping blood following me.

See, these zealots are ignorant beyond belief, but I would be found dead before I could try to oppose them outright. 

“This? It's nothing, just spoils of a good hunt. My family will finally be able to eat tonight.” 

I just needed to pretend like I’m some random fucking Tark. Rummaging in the forest for sustenance, like a wild beast.

It stopped pointing, instead resting its hand near the sword by its side. “Take off the cover. Now.” 

Ughh, always something.

Nonetheless I listened. You can’t blame me, when you’re face to face with one of these guys then tell me about how you ‘stood on your business.’

I lowered my left shoulder, then with my right hand, pulled back the cover slowly. 

On me was a wild boar, or pig, whatever the difference. Its eyes were hollow and mouth agape. 

My shirt was soaked in a deep red. “I had to bleed and gut it immediately. I didn’t know how long it was going to take me to get back to town!” 

I molded my words to sound a tad more desperate, as though I was begging for his understanding.

To aid this, a bunch of organs could be seen draped over my shoulder. 

The suit’s hand did not relax. “If that is so, walk off the road. You’re breeding filth. And smell abhorred.”

With no semblance of an apology it took its leave. Getting back onto the carriage and riding away.

“*Huwgh*, that was too close for comfort. Thanks to the church(s) for neglecting any basic training for their lakies!” A pair of sweat almost fell into my eye.

I went unimpeded until reaching the city. Its smell was enough for me to know where I was.

Putting this one with the other two I had finally completed this little quest. 

“I’m going to toss these clothes. Never again, you won’t get me to save these things from a deserved death.” For my effort I let out some saliva, spitting it on the ‘men’ as goodbye.

Plus, this place is far too cold for me to want to stay any longer. 

I departed for that cloaked man. He should be awaiting my arrival. As I had earlier contacted him as to my soon completion.

…

I sat alone, waiting. In no time my expected company arrived.

The ego fueled wealthcentric man, hired by me as a dagger, was here to report back.

“Their bodies are stored in the meat locker below Raizes’. I give you four days tops before they start to actually rot.” 

The consideration he showed was unwarranted. “Yes. I’ll have that place checked by sundown. After I confirm, Seyrie will have your paym-”

His body moved with my words, putting more emphasis on what he went to say. “Don’t. Not that. Here I thought we were growing on one another. Trust between scum compatriots!” 

His hands weren’t antsy, nor did it seem like he was in desperate need of the coin. 

Cutting me off seemed unusual. I wouldn’t have taken him as the type to get even mildly invested in his work this much.

Still, I stood fast on my initial choice. “No. I check, then you are paid.” Giving in to this man, in only the second interaction, was not a choice I could make. “Nonetheless, you’re a tempful person..”

A squint met my demeanor, “Tough crowd I guess, but good business is based in convenience. So I’d get to figuring out your issues.” 

Aside from the point, he looked fairly bad. His clothes were housing soot, and dried with stains of either blood or ale.

But regardless, the mercenary took his leave before me this time. He seemingly forgot, the first to leave always picks up the tab.

I have his coin, so it’s no problem.

But now. It’s time to start this again… they’re dead, so no going back.  

I have to convene with the dead.