I woke up the following evening at some unknown time. That was another luxury I cked, no wristwatch. I couldn't properly track my hours, which was an annoying inconvenience.

  My body hurt. The soreness of the backpacking and moving about was really kicking in now, and the constant rubbing and chaffing between my legs had me up with severe pain in the groin. This thing was of more use to me chopped off and fed to a pig. I smelled like rainwater, mud, likely animal feces, and what I smelled like naturally, brimstone and sulfur. The room I got didn't come with a bath, it was really just a room with a twin bed, a sheet, a pillow, a half-stuffed mattress too small for the frame, stained floors, a nightstand with a broken drawer, and a closet missing its door.

  Looking around, it was depressing. I'd paid for a room hardly worth a few coppers with the equivalent of a few week's worth of meals. I was still exhausted, still weak, and even after nearly a week passing since I got here, I hadn't learned much. There was little point moping about. Whether it was me or Chagrin taking action, I got up, grabbed my things, and left the inn.

  Ignoring the innkeeper on the way out, I made my way to the edge of town towards the river. Downstream from the lumber mill to find somewhere secluded. I needed to wash myself. If I wanted any chance of getting into a store, a pub, or finding work, I needed to be presentable at a bare minimum.

  I cked soap, so I would need a substitute. Anything better smelling than river and sulfur. Yet, in my search, I was dumbfounded. I couldn't find any pine trees for a pine scent. The best, and I did mean the very best I could do, was avoid the sawdust floating down in huge coagutions down the river. That, and whatever other waste the lumber mill dumped. It made sense given my eyesight, and at night with grayscale vision, it was hard to tell what from what.

  I came out now covered in water, and smelling like the lumber mill. At a bare minimum, I didn't smell like I had been caught in the woods for days. I used produce fme to dry for a few minutes and wring out the water, before heading into town. I needed the money I had on me to subsist, and so the 8 gold I had left would act as my emergency fund. This meant I needed work. Where else to go but the pub, te at night.

  Brudside had excellent alcohol, given the prominent lumber and orchard industry here. I stepped into a tavern aptly named 'Fullgug', the door closing quietly behind me. Now whether it was my appearance, the fact I was still dripping a little water off my hoof and onto the floor, or the fact my fucking balls dangled slightly out of my damn loincloth, the entire room turned and gave me a quick look-over.

  I remembered how I'd looked in the void. The way I was dressed and what I was carrying, damn, I may as well have been holding a sign that said 'Look at me, I'm unnatural and oddly shaped.' I probably looked like an apple that grew too many stems and changed color too many times while ripening. I met some of the gres. A few human men along the bar, still in boots and gloves, work clothes, clearly folks from the mill. The bartender and what looked to be his son were behind cleaning gsses and slowly serving drinks from huge barrels along the wall. Along the other walls were two older women sewing by the hearth, their wrinkled faces and shining leather boots reflecting some of the light. A troop of halflings passed a ptter around while pying cards at another table, the eight of them all turning for half a second before being swallowed back up in their game. A smaller group of hooded figures in the corner booth made it impossible to tell if they actually looked over. Lastly, facing away from the door, was a huge cloaked individual, whose food I could smell from the door. God how I missed a warm meal. Made me regret not choosing ranger as my starting css given how long and brutal traveling was.

  Really, it was just the bar workers and lumberjacks who looked at me and seemed to shrivel any remaining confidence I had. I was not welcome here, that much was very apparent. They returned to their drinks and conversation, and the soft noise of the tavern resumed as I stepped in to find a seat. Where to sit was the bigger deal though. With no troop of friends to begin socializing, and no joyful stories to tell to lighten the mood, I was at a loss for how to even begin networking. I supposed the person I should start with was the bartender, catching him while he wasn't busy with another customer. While the customer service I had gotten so far in town wasn't great, by most manners they had to at least answer me.

  Sitting down at least three seats over from the nearest lumberjack, I had to cross my hooves to make sure my fucking gonads wouldn't spill over the front seat of the chair. I wasn't one for public nudity and I had no intention of making myself visible like that here. After a few minutes, I was able to get the bartender's attention, who slid over with the cssic 'cleaning gsses forever, don't bug me even if I'm bored' look.

  "You're strange lookin'. New to town?" He asked.

  Holy shit, actual conversation. At the bare minimum, a question.

  "Yes, I am. As you may assume, I'm in search of work."

  "You and others, although you don't look tough enough to even carry that pack of yours." The man gestured to the bag I'd kicked underneath my bar stool, dense with gear.

  "No sir, not at all," I replied as politely as I could manage with a split, forked tongue and sharp teeth, both of which made it hard to talk normally and not reveal them as much. What it did instead was make me weirder to look at and be around. The discomfort on the man's face would make a great photo. "But I have other talents. I'll take nearly anything though, just to get me on my feet."

  He looked me over again, with clear attention on my horns which threatened to require room for seats of their own.

  "Ask the folks around. Things have been quiet in town for months now, people have been doing fine, at least from what I've heard."

  I could tell he was holding information back, but I would rather do what he said than push my luck trying to offer coin or favors to curry it out of him. Nodding, turned on my stool to look about the room at who was most likely to have some coin to give in exchange for a task they weren't capable of.

  After hasty deliberation, I stood up and walked to the hearth, to see if I could get the two older women's attention. Sitting on a nearby empty chair and leaning down some towards their rocking chairs, I spoke quietly.

  "Excuse me ma'am, but I'm in search of work. Is there anything I could help you with?" It felt like I was a beggar on the streets. This town wasn't big enough for a public request board or for bounty posters to be put up, and that sort of work would likely end up with getting me killed sooner than paying out anything.

  The older woman furthest from me didn't bother looking up, her gsses covering her eyes with the reflection of the hearth. I didn't need to see her eyes to feel the heat coming from her stare. The other woman, though, was much more open with her distaste.

  "You vilebloods need to leave our town be. Nothing good ever comes from your kind." The disdain in her voice may have reflected something from her past, but I couldn't read her expression well enough to tell what.

  With no response to that, I stood up and went to my next best bet. While the folks in the corner had their own private business, very clearly, and the halflings pying their games were more than preoccupied, the individual sitting in their booth with their back to the door was really my only choice here. I walked over, floorboards creaking under my hooves and the warmth from the hearth fading at this distance.

  "Excuse me, I'm sure you've heard, but I'm in need of work. I assure you I can be of use. I don't have much strength, but I can more than make up for it assisting you with tasks or healing wounds. You won't regret it."

  My tone was almost desperate. Pair that with a sneaky casting of guidance, and I felt it may be possible to convince them. There was another moment passed as I awaited any response at all before they motioned with their mug of ale to sit in the seat across from them. I took to it quickly. Even if the booth's leather was as thin as the sheet on my bed at the inn, knowing there may be a means for me to earn money was something invigorating.

  I got a better look at them from the front. Over their head and shoulders was a thick wool cloak that cast a shadow over what looked to be a steel helmet covering their face and head. They were wearing heavy armor all along their body- it looked like chainmail on closer inspection. Gauntlets, links, and a gambison over the chest, colored to match the cloak. I couldn't see weapons, but it was likely they simply weren't carrying them at the moment. After all, they were huge. If I had to guess height, they were likely 6'7", 6'9" possibly. Muscled as well, shoulders nearing double the width of my own. Not much for me, but for them, it looked like they either had pauldrons on or were really keeping the chain links taught. They didn't tilt their helmet up as they ate or drank, so I got no chance to see skin tone, complexion, or race. All I knew was that they were a rge humanoid. Given the size, I imagined goliath. Sex? Couldn't tell. I couldn't understand the mannerisms they bore. Their food and drink just disappeared through a folding metal slit on their helmet. I sat in silence with them for a few, their helmet rarely turning away from me other than to perhaps peek at the next pte. This was why I imagined a goliath- the appetite was uncanny, and everything on the table smelled great in comparison to the dried fruits and meats I'd been snacking on for days.

  As I was about to speak up about what sort of work it was going to be, they emptied their st bowl and reached down into their cloak, assumably to a pouch, and pulled out a crumpled poster. Fttening it on the table and stabbing through the image with the fork they were eating with, they pointed at what I quickly learned was our target.

  The bartender, as I had assumed, lied. There had been various muggings along the roads leading in and out of Brudside, all of which had started gathering bounties from any survivors. It had gotten bad enough that one of the nobles who had been receiving lumber from Brudside had actually posted a reward for taking in the head of the mugging operation. Crime scenes supposedly showed it was far too organized to be just opportunistic attacks. The thieves hadn't been stealing lumber but had been stealing the tools and equipment of the lumberjacks, which was severely reducing the work they could do.

  What this person cd in armor was telling me was that I would be helping them take on some of these bandits.

  "Alright, do you know where they are? On my way here, I didn't see any, nor had I heard of any. I'm happy to help, given the reward and difficulty it's causing this town."

  The ironcd figure, who at this point I would start mentally referring to as helmet, took back the paper with the bounty and pulled out a scroll case, taking a map out and ying it onto the table. The map showed most of the towns south of the capital city a bit to the north, near the center of the ndmass we were on. There was Brudside, where we were, as well as Cahan, Gugrove, Badudua, and Lasirest. Collsan was where I came from, and didn't pn on returning. The capital, Lndre, to the north, was also visible on the map. Other cities further away weren't listed, nor were any of their jurisdictions and vilges.

  Helmet pointed to a patch of woods in between Brudside and Cahan, assumably where the bandits were. They then dragged their finger over to a road carving through the woods, where I think they thought the next attack would be. I only nodded, gazing at the map longer so I could get a better estimate of what travel would be like for me in the future. I didn't own any paper or ink, but Chagrin had enough brains and memory to possibly design my own map.

  "When do we leave?" I asked, wondering if I would get to make use of the two nights I still had at the inn.

  With my words, Helmet promptly stood up and squeezed out of the booth, before hefting their rucksack nearly the size of me onto their back, and began walking out of the tavern. I rushed to roll up the map they left on the table, before jogging to catch up with them as the door flew open with their push.

  It was still the evening as we made our way out, but the encroaching dead of night brought with it the silence of the birds and the nearby orchards. A few townsfolk were still out and about, whose eyes Helmet and I caught as we began walking assumably in the direction of the woods they'd pointed out earlier. No time like the present, so at least I knew and Helmet were on the same page there.

  From their pack, I could tell they carried a lot of gear, and based on the lumpy shape of it, didn't pack it with much care. They clearly had the strength to carry around whatever they wanted, since I saw three sheaths strapped to the back of it, two bundles of rope, and a shield twice as big as my own on the side, made entirely of metal, unlike mine. In a much rger sheath underneath their pack, they carried a great scimitar, or more aptly just a huge cleaver. They had a heavy crossbow strapped underneath the pack and a hand crossbow on their hip. 5 javelins were bundled on top of the ruck, points as though they'd never once been sharpened or cleaned. Their cloak didn't reach the ground, the end of it tattered and stained with blood. The greaves they wore were rusted with the same, creaking every so often as we walked. Stealth was out the window- I assumed the chain mail they wore was equally rusted.

  Helmet walked with purpose, and it wasn't long before we were already deep into the woods. They didn't light a torch, which I found interesting. Were they not a goliath? Goliaths cked darkvision, so they had to be a monstrous race. This made sense, especially hiding any sembnce of skin on their bodies. Orc? Hobgoblin? Bugbear was out of the running given their correctly proportioned bodies. I was probably putting too much thought into it. Sure, knowing their race could help me understand their capabilities, but it was better for me to focus on the task at hand.

  We made our way deeper and deeper into the forest, where I continued to regret not leaving my bag back at the inn. Not everything in it was necessary for something like this, and carrying it around was a huge pain.

  "Hey, gimme a second to throw on my armor if we're going into combat. Watch for me, please."

  Helmet kept walking as if he hadn't heard me. Stunned for a few moments, I sighed and dropped my pack before throwing the scale mail armor on over my traveler clothes. Given I hadn't washed my clothes nor the armor since I had woken up, they both smelled terrible. The leggings went on first, wrapped up with a belt. This was also painful to wear, given my... appendage, but I could deal with some chaffing and discomfort if it meant I wouldn't need to walk. The coat went on after, and with a bit of struggle with my tail and wings, I got the gear on after five minutes. Slinging my dramatically lighter backpack on between my wings, I stretched them out for what was the first time in days. This, as well as having a tail and horns, was a surreal experience. Going from four limbs to seven was incredible. I could feel the faint night breeze against the wing membranes, and as I gave a few testing fps my tail kept bance for me. Helmet was already extremely far ahead, but given the time of night, I elected to fly into the air and catch up to him that way.

  Then, I realized, that wind is exceptionally cold. It blew in my face and tossed my hair in my eyes, and seeing with darkvision like this had me forced to fly close to the tree line. Not only that, but I had completely lost track of Helmet.

  "Fuck." I mumbled.

  Navigating with only a mental map and terrible vision was exceptionally difficult as well. Thankfully, I knew we only needed to travel in a roughly straight line from where we left off, and soon enough I was able to find the bandit camp before I found Helmet.

  It was six tents and a trash pile centered around a small fire ring with a rotating spit over it. Whatever animal they had been smoking over the fire smelled amazing, even from my position circling above it. I couldn't make out much given my terrible eyesight, but I estimated two thieves per tent, with what looked like a guard dog posted by the trash pile. The rgest tent was put underneath one of the rger trees in the small clearing and assumably had whatever stolen goods they had.

  Still, counting for each tent, there were 12 bandits here. Assuming they had ranged attacks, the odds were not in me and Helmet's favor. Even if they were harder to attack given the chain mail armor and their rger shield, the action economy was not in our favor. Running the math in my head, this was easily a deadly encounter. Helmet really intended to take them all on? Even with my help from the air, this would not be easy.

  Speaking of Helmet, I could hear them coming down through the woods loud enough. As far as I knew they certainly hadn't taken proficiency in stealth. They were wielding their shield in one hand, and their bundle of javelins in the other. While it was hard for me to be quiet, nobody would be able to see me given the darkness, and that went for Helmet as well. Did they pn on going in by themselves?

  They looked to be completely avoiding stealth, and whipped a javelin at the guard dog over by the trash pile. It zipped across the camp and nded square in the beast's side with a resounding squelch. Blood spttered onto the ground as it whimpered and fell over, dead.

  Damn, Helmet had an arm.

  As soon as the javelin nded though, tentfps burst open as the dozen bandits rushed out into their camp, scimitars drawn and crossbows loaded.

  "We're getting attacked! Over there!" They shouted, a few of them lighting up torches instinctively. Light filled the camp soon, and Helmet in their cd armor and shield readied another javelin.

  Helmet and I both had the advantage here given we were taking them by surprise, and I fully intended to make use of every second. I knew the bandits would struggle both hitting me from my perch and actually hitting me, but the bigger issue was my companion on the ground. I flew over and went above them, before dropping down and catching myself at the st moment. The sudden fall and minor g forces made my stomach flip a few times, but I managed to smack my hand on the back of their cloak, muttering a quick prayer.

  "Goddess Eldath, give this warrior the courage and strength they need to put those who would do harm to them in their pce under your judgment."

  It was a practiced line Chagrin knew well, but not one I didn't cringe at myself for having to say. With a pale green glow, faint light exuded from my hand and surged into Helmet as I gave them Heroism.

  Not a second after I nded, I used whatever time I had to fly back up into the air, getting some healthy distance between me, the ground, and the bandits. I clutched the symbol of Eldath around my neck in my hands, before reaching out and invoking her. I created an emboldening bond between myself and Helmet, granting us both another boost.

  As long as I stayed within a close enough distance to them, we'd both find ourselves with guidance from Eldath in our endeavors. With Heroism buffing Helmet, and his assumed armor css, I doubted they'd go down any time soon either. Temporary hitpoints would strengthen him on each of their turns, not to mention making them immune to any form of fear.

  Helmet took another javelin and arched their arm, hurling it at a bandit wielding their torch. It was arguably a terrible throw- either that or the javelin itself was in bad condition. Whatever the case, I saw it puncture the leather jerkin the man wore and blood sptter out like confetti. The bandit stumbled backward, heavily wounded and bloodied, but standing, still very much in the fight. They tore the weapon out of their front, more blood spilling, and I could see them grow dizzy for a moment- before their adrenaline kicked in and they yelled out.

  "Get the bastard!"

  Six of the bandits dashed forward, sprinting at full speed across the camp to encircle Helmet. Helmet instinctively smacked one across the face with the quarterstaff he had stuck in the ground beside him, drawing blood from the bandit's lip with a loud crack. Not a moment after, the sound of the other six bandits unching their volley from behind log seating and from small windows in their tents got sent towards the armored giant. A few bolts went awry, but the two that managed to actually hit the fighter only bounced off their helmet.

  I had another moment to move, and I flew out from my on the tree branch and up into the air. I needed to focus fire the wounded- spreading damage was for the stupid.

  "Eldath, may your guidance light my way."

  A quick flick of the wrist and I had a small globule of fme in my palm. As if I was throwing a baseball, I sent it whistling down towards the pincushioned bandit, the fire so on target it nded in the same wound the javelin had carved into. It sent the man groaning into the ground, not moving.

  It was exhilerating- I could hardly call Chagrin a build, but using him, being him, was a differently feeling than pying as him in a campaign. I wasn't in a game- this was real. I wasn't in a dream, I was living this. I had just killed a man. A thief, one who had probably harmed multiple other people, but still someone with a life, ideas, and dreams.

  It wasn't the time for those thoughts. One wrong move and one of those crossbow bolts could easily kill me. From this height, I could very well die ft out.

  Helmet flung the quarterstaff around like it was a one-ounce stick. The same bandit he'd cracked across the face one way had another the opposite- jaw visibly broken. Before he could even split up blood, the other end of the staff came crashing down onto the guy's skull- crumpling the bandit to the ground.

  "There's a demon in the sky! Where is he?!" One of the bandits shouted, taking a second to look up and try and spot me. I was up against the contrast of the night sky, but without ample enough light, even my shitty means of stealth kept me hidden from their untrained eyes.

  "Just get the big one! He's already killed Xavier!" Another shouted while actively swinging at Helmet with their chipped scimitar.

  It was incredible to see. Bolts either terribly aimed in the dark or good enough to nd only to bounce off a gauntlet or chink off the chain mail. Scimitars were the same way, either swatted off by his staff or thudding uselessly against their shield.

  This was the peak of low-level combat. Sure, the odds were against us, but Helmet's armor css was ridiculous. Pair that with the low skill of these thugs and support from above? At night? With the surprise round? I was actually starting to think we were going to win.

  I lobbed another mote of fire down at one of the bandits swarming Helmet, singing their back before I swooped another loop around the area above him. It peeled some of the leather clean off, and they shouted as they got distracted for just a moment.

  A moment was all Helmet needed. With another two quick cracks of their staff against the man's chest and neck, they too dropped to the dirt.

  "He won't go down! Get that damned bat thing out of the air already!" Another thief shouted.

  "You, James! Grab the net and chuck it on this lug, we'll drag him to the ground if we have to!" Another thug ran away from the group encircling Helmet, but not before he got a healthy smack across his back. I swore at least two chunks of his spine fractured, but he kept running.

  The five bandits shooting bolts paused for a moment and lit their torches, waving them in the air as they searched the sky for me.

  "There he is! Get that bastard!" One of them hollered, turning their attention to me. I had maybe a moment or two before a volley of bolts would fly my way.

  "Helmet! I need some help if you want to keep feeling as strong as you are right now!" I shouted down, before whipping up another mote of fme and chucking it at the bandit running for the net. It nded on the back of their leg, dropping them for a moment before they kept running. Damaged, worse than the hit with the stick, but not enough to stop them.

  Helmet made no noise, but I swore I saw the ground shake some. With highly concerning speed, they made a bolt for the center of the camp, surrounding themselves with the crossbowmen. Throwing a third javelin, it slipped out of their bloodied hands and dropped to the side. This was less surprising than the fact Helmet had covered over 30 feet while still having the time to make an attempt to kill.

  "An ORC!? You're an Orc?!"

  I yelled before three bolts came soaring up into the air, one of which nded on my quad, my blood gushing down my armor as it went underneath one of the scales. The pain was unreal- I had never fought like this in the real world, nor experienced any injury like this either- the bolt was cold, the tip of it felt barbed. I couldn't snap it out, and trying to move my leg felt like it was ripping muscles apart inside of it. I groaned and hissed, clenching my jaw as my ears pounded. The other two shots went aside as I fpped my wings, moving about recklessly trying to avoid any further ones.

  I saw through my panic the four bandits dashed to catch up to Helmet, as well as the thief with the net rushed towards him. The two crossbowmen who hadn't fired at me sent bolts toward Helmet. One actually managed to nd a shot- it nded square in their chest, bolt very clearly sticking out their front- and yet I heard not a shout or a yell from them. Even amid the pain screaming in my leg, I felt jealous. Then again, I had given them Heroism, so of course they were going to feel nothing. Helmet was now surrounded by the entirety of the remaining bandit troupe, one of which was ready to begin ensuring them. I didn't doubt Helmet's abilities to avoid the net- but if they didn't, things were going to look much worse for them.

  "Watch the net!" I shouted down through my gritted teeth, whipping a flick of fire down towards the one with the net. It nded ft on their face- burning it to the bone, their body falling backward as if they'd run into a pole. The net dropped over them, shortly followed by Helmet smacking another approaching bandit three times in quick succession. It was hard to see, but I swore I saw the man's head fly clean off his shoulders after the third strike.

  Helmet went and stepped onto the net on the ground, standing over the body, before the remaining three swordsmen surrounded him and began their attacks again. Another two shot their bolts at me, with three to helmet. Not wanting to get hit again I managed to duck one and pull my wing out of the way in time as it flew by. Another bolt flew into Helmet's chest, still completely unphased. A scimitar found its way underneath their helmet, and I saw blood dripping down their shoulder. I had no clue how deep the cut was, but given they'd smashed their shield into the man halfway through the motion, I hoped it wasn't dire.

  Another ball of sparks nded down on the nape of the neck of another bandit, spreading nasty burns along their shoulders as it made a mantle across their body. They screamed out, eyes shutting in pain and face contorted. Another two strikes made short order of said face, caving it in after two nasty overhead swings from Helmet.

  With three crossbowmen and three bde wielders left, we'd managed to cut the camp in half. Those three with the scimitars actually managed to put in something good though, as they tore Helmet's helmet from their head, and jammed their edges into the crevice around the chain and the warrior's neck. Any sembnce of temporary strength I'd given them faded at that moment, as blood gushed out like a fountain from the arteries they cut and the gashes along their neck and colrbone.

  That was when I saw Helmet's face, and in fact, they were an Orc. Not only that but... well, even from this distance, it was hard to tell. My eyesight was blurry, I was injured, but I swore they were a woman. I couldn't be sure, their hair was cut short. It was hard to pay attention when another two bolts flew past me, one over my shoulder and another past my hip. Their aim was getting closer, and luck was starting to swing to their side. Even through the turmoil, the third shot got deflected by Helmet's shield again, thunking into the steel front.

  I hurled again, another bundle of joy down at one of the bandits, this time nding much more brutally onto the side of their face- skin melted away in thick chunks, bone revealing as they dropped their scimitar and screamed in pain. One quick, vengeful shout from Helmet and their skull shattered with a crack, killing them on the spot. A roundabout strike to another knocked the wind out of one to Helmet's left, keeling him over for a split second.

  "Get her! While her helmet's off!" One of the crossbowmen shouted.

  Three bolts flew towards, well, clearly her, and I saw them puncture her chest and her calve, and I think I saw the temporary hitpoints literally fade as the pain caught up to her. She shouted like an orc- Gutteral, loud, and in pure rage. I could see the tusks, prominent on her bottom jaw, and properly confirm she was an orc. Made sense.

  But she was on her st limbs. Too many bolts stuck out of her body. Blood was gushing onto the ground, and had drenched her cloak and her chain armor. Her neck splurted crimson over and over, and still, they didn't let up. Another two cuts from the remaining bandits, and one managed to get a gash underneath her armpit, stabbing upwards.

  I saw the bde chink a gap or maybe saw a rusted link, but I saw the bde thrust out the other side, up through her right shoulder, cutting her shout short. She went limp, eyes shutting closed as she dropped to the ground. Lucky hits, and a group effort, had taken down the warrior.

  "Fuck! No, no no no- Eldath! Bring this warrior back on her feet! Your judgment isn't done!" I yelled, blood still dripping down my arm. My outstretched hand gleamed with yellow, radiant light before a wisp of the same energy left my mouth and zipped down into her limp body.

  I didn't miss a beat, yelling as I hurled another orb of fme down into the bandit keeled over, searing through the armor and out the other side- I saw their body flop in two different directions before another three shots flew up towards me. Two managed to nd, one nding square in my chest.

  I felt the wind leave my lungs, pain searing through me like my nerves were the fuse to a nuclear bomb. The other bolt had nded in my shoulder, and now my entire left side was drenched in blood, with a bolt stuck underneath a steel scale on my torso. It hurt to move. It hurt to keep flying. It hurt to breathe, to even mutter another word. My vision was blurry, I had never been this close to death before. Whether it was Eldath or adrenaline, I knew any longer and I would pass out.

  I saw Helmet manage to get onto her feet, her shout resuming as she screamed into the sky.

  "grrrrRRRRAAAAAAHHHHH!!!"

  It was loud enough for me to want to cover my ears, and I was 30ft in the air. She took the butt end of her quarterstaff and jammed it straight through the jaw of the bandit who'd impaled her, caving in their ribs half a beat ter as blood shot into their face.

  "Fuck! You fucking monster!" The st scimitar-wielding bandit shouted, before trying to make another swipe at her. Amazingly, he managed to jam his bde into another kink in her chainmail, but it only made the same Herosim she still bore fade slightly. In fact, I swear through my blurry vision I saw her grin. If it wasn't for the fact I was very, very much dying, I would've found that oddly hot.

  I weakly lobbed a mote of fire with my off hand down at the one who cut into her, melting off leather and flesh from their shoulder. Three bolts flew- two at her, one at me. I managed to avoid the shot by zily, weakly, lowering my elevation, while the other two pinged off Helmet's armor, likely missing out of fear shaking them up.

  Helmet missed her first swing against the remaining scimitar-wielding bandit, before the follow-up obliterated their face, dropping their body to the ground.

  "I'll kill you! I'LL KILL YOU ALL!!" She screamed, tearing her bloody helmet off the ground and steamrolling her way toward the remaining three bandits, smming her helmet on her blood-soaked face.

  By this point, I failed to even pull a mote of fire from my hands. The ground was already difficult to see, but now I could barely see my own hand as I tried to ignite it in fme. I groaned in pain, tears welling in my eyes from it only making it worse. Every movement, every breath, was intolerable. I had what felt like giant spikes tearing up my muscle fibers and my body heat dropping rapidly- my blood dripping down my front, my leg, and my arm, to the point it was dripping off my fingers and my toes. Not to mention, after having used up both my spell slots, my mind and my soul felt strained. The world felt like it was spinning. I could hardly keep concentration on Heroism.

  I spent my turn flying down towards the corpses in the bandit camp, nding on my feet and very literally sitting down, leaning against a tent pole as I saw Helmet tearing through the three panicking bandits. I didn't lose consciousness and just watched the carnage unfold.

  The three had surrounded her and were trying to cut into her with their bdes, their crossbows tossed to the ground now that they had no hope of escape. The weapons bounced or slid off her armor and shield hopelessly, while she smmed them with attack after attack.

  This went on for maybe 20 seconds- a bloody bout where after each passing pained breath of mine, another bandit fell. As I began to start truly feeling the pain, as the adrenaline subsided, I heard the st muffled shout of the very st bandit, as Helmet crushed his throat under her greave. I was lying amongst the bodies now, trying as carefully as possible to remove the bolts from my arm and leg. The one in my leg I was able to remove without issue, but the one in my arm only came out after much, much more pain. I didn't touch the one in my chest, wanting to trust that to magic. If, at least, I could survive the bleeding.

  Helmet stood amongst the three corpses for a few seconds, staring up into the night sky, her shoulders rising and falling. I could see blood dripping down her shoulders and even her back now. After a bit, she stepped over the bodies and made her way to me, and in the flickering torchlight, I could scarcely make out her face, even through my blurry vision.

  I could confirm she was an Orc. Orcs as a race have a special trait called aggressive, which gives them extra movement speed so long as they are moving towards an enemy. This is why I shouted as soon as I saw her sprint across the camp towards the enemy since Orcs are the only race to have that trait. She had pronounced tusks which jutted up at the end of each side of her lips. Her nose was a bit rger, which was common for Orcs, and she had prominent dark green skin. Her hair was long on one side, bck, and cut short, buzzed even, on the other side. Her eyes were blue, surprisingly enough, although any further details than that were hard to tell. I was actively losing my vision, and my hearing, for that matter, as my consciousness faded as the adrenaline did.

  She was saying something, and I saw some light beneath my peripheral. Faint teal, and... soothing.

  I felt the bolt stuck in my chest get steadily pushed out, the tears and wound sealing as it left. I felt the wounds on my shoulder and leg seal slightly too, or at least begin scarring. My vision became less fuzzy, the ringing in my ears faded out, and my head stopped pounding. I was still in a lot of pain. The strain on the body from expending all of one's magic is no joke, but I was much more conscious than I was before. And... my eyesight? It was weird. Could I always see this clearly? Wait, since when did...

  "Helmet... are you... are you a padin?"