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Reforged pt 4

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Arthur was no stranger to being up with the dawn but he couldn't remember the last time it was because he hadn't slept during the night. Moreover, the blacksmith also couldn't recall when he'd last sat down and actually watched the sunrise. That morning, however, as he stood on the highest balcony on the east side of the Temple of Hieroneous, Arthur looked out over the ravaged, smoking ruins of Hearthbridge. It was a difficult thing to face and he was forced to fight back tears as he gazed at the broken corpse of his home town.

The temple always welcomed the townsfolk and, despite Hearthbridge being a peaceful place, Hieroneous' followers had always prided themselves as being the fallback place for commoners in the event that the village was ever attacked. It was unsurprising then that the place was packed with as many people as could make it to the safety of the temple's stone walls. Peter had carried Arthur through the front doors and they were quickly ushered into the back room so they could be seen by one of the temple's elder priests.

The blacksmith was still overwhelmed by the man's decree, announcing that, just as it had appeared, Peter had been chosen by Hieroneous; there was no other explanation for Arthur's spontaneous healing or the young bull's heaven-touched fur-color change. What that meant for the Minotaur, the Human didn't know, but they both stood silently staring down at the smoking town. The bottom of the sun had just taken off from the horizon when Peter finally spoke. "I am worried about Harold and Lucas."

Arthur's other sons were certainly on the blacksmith's mind as well. "While the elder was speaking with you I asked around... nobody has seen either of them."

Peter let out a soft grunt, both of his ears lowering. "I want to go out and look for them, but the priests said that I cannot... but they said that Sir Asler and his men would clear the countryside and then we could leave once it was safe."

Nodding calmly, Arthur did his best to maintain his cool; he also wanted to be out in the city looking for his missing sons but he knew the way of things. Sir Asler, as the village's reagent, was responsible for its safety and so he would respond to the dangers; the last thing he needed was to have commoners putting themselves in danger. Realizing his son was at odds with the situation he reached out and rested a hand on Peter's enormous forearm. "It will be alright, my boy."

The Minotaur turned to regard him, a painful glimmer in his gaze. He rested a hand atop the one Arthur had laid on his arm. "Father... the priests want me to stay here and join one of their orders."

It was a bitter-sweet statement. Arthur had suspected that it was a possibility and, on one hand, he was pleased that his son could find acceptance among the faithful. Conversely, he didn't like the idea of being separated from his son. In the end, however, he kept his tone even to avoid the risk of affecting his son's decision. It was, he reminded himself, Peter's choice, after all. "And what will you do?"

A voice calling from the veranda made Arthur realize that the two were not alone. Brother Victor, one of the temple's clerics stepped forward. "The Order of the Burnished Blade is a noble organization full of honorable men and women. They do Hieroneous' will and serve faithfully."

The words came out before Arthur could stop them, but he did manage to avoid any scorn in his tone. "Strange, Brother Victor, that I've never heard of them."

The Cleric chuckled, moving to stand beside the blacksmith opposite Peter. "I am not surprised. The Burnished Blade eschews fame and recognition, serving Hieroneous with vigor, will, and most of all, humility."

Peter nodded, glancing past Arthur to the cleric. "Father has always taught us that we should serve for the sake of service, not because of fame or reward."

Brother Victor smiled, glancing toward Arthur. "You have taught your wards well then, blacksmith."

Arthur wasn't exactly sure whether it was the fact that there was something in Brother Victor's tone that he couldn't quite place, or if it was the way the cleric spoke to him rather than his son, but something about the exchange rubbed him the wrong way. Regardless, he kept his own council on the matter, choosing instead to ask something more important. "And Peter would be well-treated there? The other members of the Order would not look down on him for being different?"

The cleric's smile widened. "Of course not, my son; Heironeous has chosen your ward and all will acknowledge his calling. Besides, the Order of the Burnished Blade counts many 'eclectic' race among its ranks."

The blacksmith grit his teeth as he tried to get past what almost sounded like Brother Victor's condescending tone. "Please forgive me, Brother, but I am a simple blacksmith so perhaps your meaning escapes me... what do you mean by 'eclectic'?"

Peter answered for him. "Father Bigsly said the Burnished Blade is an order made up of humanoids, Father."

Brother Victor nodded "As your ward says, blacksmith, the--"

"He is my son."

The words were out of his mouth before Arthur could stop himself. The cleric stopped speaking, paused, and then started again. "The Order of the Burnished Blade is a sect within the Temple of Hieroneous that specializes in training and caring for the more exotic members of our faith, blacksmith. It is a great honor to be considered for admission."

Arthur was rapidly losing the struggle within to remain civil, but he made one last attempt. "Peter is familiar with life as a Human, Brother Victor; he would not require any such 'special care'. What about if he were to join another order, perhaps?

He got no reprieve; making a sour face, the cleric stated "That is simply not done, blacksmith. As far as holy orders, your ward is--"

The blacksmith slammed his hand on the stone bannister. "Son! Peter is my SON, not my ward! He is my SON, damn you, and I will not have him treated like some cast-off, second-rate--"

The Minotaur reached over and placed a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Father..."

The soft reproach was enough to calm the blacksmith, but not for his or the cleric's benefit; he let out a breath and fell silent for the benefit of his son. Steeling his resolve and sending a silent prayer to Kord for the will to be civil, he lowered his voice. "...he should not be shuffled to the side in some cast-off group for non-Humans."

If his words angered Brother Victor the cleric didn't let it show. Turning to face Arthur fully, the holy man spoke simply and calmingly. "Hieroneous has a place for all of us in this world, blacksmith-- we may often find ourselves at odds with the plans of the god, but to fight against them is folly. The Order of the Burnished Blade is the place for your w--" he paused as Arthur shot him a withering glare. "--son, and Father Bigsly will send a missive to them once Hearthbridge's protection is seen to."

Although Arthur wanted to push the issue the plaintive glances from his son were enough to calm him in the imminent sense. He changed the subject. "And how goes the defense, Brother Victor? Have we heard from the knights?"

The cleric's face took on a slightly darker cast. "The scryer received a missive that the keep was attacked at the same time as Hearthbridge. It was not as intense or direct as here, which leads the marshals and paladins to conjecture that the plan was to keep our Lord and protector busy while the dark forces committed whatever atrocities they had in mind for our poor village..."

Peter spoke up. "My brother was taken. Lucas. The demon that attacked us went after him specifically."

Brother Victor looked to Arthur as if seeking verification of the statement. The blacksmith bit his tongue and provided it. "It is as Peter says; the demon hailed me and demanded the location of my youngest, Lucas. He is is less than a yard in height, perhaps 3 stone... red scales with yellow--"

The cleric's expression caused Arthur to slowly trial off and once he grew quiet Brother Victor asked "This 'son' of yours... the youngest. He was the kobold?"

Arthur simply nodded. "Aye."

Expression grimmer yet, Brother Victor shook his head. "The scryer has some concern that this attack was orchestrated by a wizard. If that is the case then the kobold's disa--"

The blacksmith interjected gruffly. "Lucas."

The cleric quickly corrected himself. "Lucas' disappearance may mean far worse things for everyone involved."

Peter spoke up "Why is that, Brother Victor?"

Smoothing out his robes, Brother Victor checked the mace at his hip before regarding the Minotaur. "I am no expert in arcane matters, Neophite, but I have heard before that some trace of dragon magic flows through their blood... if there is a wizard harnessing the power of the abyss to do his bidding in this then he obviously means to abuse that power and, in so doing, visit horrible strife upon those involved... not the least of which being your brother."

Arthur didn't like the sound of that. "What can we do?"

The cleric offered a slight bow of his head. "You can wait here for word that it is safe. In the mean time, I take my leave; the council must be notified."

Peter waited until the two of them were alone before he spoke up. "Father... he said that Lucas may be in real danger..."

The blacksmith nodded stroking his beard in thought. "I heard, Peter... which is why I am to go after him."

The Minotaur was at his side in an instant. "You are not yet fully healed, Father. The priests saw to you when we arrived, but they said you still need to rest."

Arthur turned to affix his gaze on his eldest; it always caught the Minotaur's attention, and he used it to get his point across. "I will rest when my sons are safe."

Peter, as expected, did not press the issue but, surprisingly, he did shift it. "Fine. Then I am going with."

The blacksmith shook his head. "Out of the question. I want you here where it's safe."

The Minotaur didn't even pause. "And that's where I want you too, Father... and Harold, and Lucas."

It was a difficult point to argue against so, for the sake of speed, Arthur changed his tactic. "If you leave then the priesthood may second-guess themselves... you've been told to remain here, and Paladins that do not follow orders are not favored. Are you sure you want to--?"

Again, Peter's answer was immediate. "Family always, Father... besides, you sounded as though you didn't like the idea of me joining the Order of the Burnished Blade."

Arthur couldn't combat either of the points, and he barely managed to subdue a smirk. "True... I believe there is something better out there for you, my boy... something where you will not be tossed casually aside into a second-class order."

The Minotaur's follow-up statement was surprisingly insightful. "Then it sounds as though there's nothing more to argue about... shall we go, Father?"

Knowing the priests wouldn't let them leave through the front door, the climb down the balcony was not an easy one but, despite himself, Arthur was smiling the entire way.

* * * * * *

Although neither Arthur nor Peter had much to go off of, the fact that the demon had taken Lucas across the rooftops to the north suggested at the very least a directional heading. The two made good time despite keeping to the side streets, and the blacksmith was so focused on the end goal that it took Peter to point out another reason. "Father... is your leg not causing you pain?"

Stopping short at an intersection with the town's main east/west street, Arthur glanced to his son then paused to look down at his leg; in truth, he hadn't even noticed it. The blacksmith gave it a shake, and slowly eased his weight back and forth. "I... think perhaps I am so focused on saving your brothers that Kord has gifted me with a reprieve from the pain... I had not even been aware of it."

Peter knelt down and gripped Arthur by the ankle; at any other time the sudden pressure would have caused incredible pain, but the Human only acknowledged it as if he'd been grasped anywhere else. The Minotaur looked to him, ears up. "Your foot is straight, Father."

Arthur realized his son was right; for over a decade his foot had always pivoted inward-- one of many signs of his injury. Once Peter let go, the blacksmith twisted his ankle in every which direction without so much as a sense of tightness. His words came out at a whisper. "Praise be to Kord..."

His eldest son was never one to object casually so when the Minotaur interjected, Arthur took note. "Father... I-- I think it was Hieroneous."

All faithful parts of the human wanted to object, but he knew, somewhere deep down, that it was possible Peter had a point. Regardless, it was beyond debate at that moment. "We can give proper thanks to ALL the gods later... but for now, we need to find your brothers."

With no objection forthcoming from the Minotaur, Arthur stepped out into the street-- at just the wrong time. A call in a dark, profane tongue identified the threat before either the blacksmith or his son could see them and they suddenly found themselves being approached by a pair of dark, twisted, humanoid shapes. They were each about the size of a man with two arms and two legs, but that is about where the similarities ended. Even in the morning light it was impossible to mistake them for human.

They wore tattered rags, each adorned with a shawl, their greenish, moist, scaled skin gleaming as if slickened by oil. Their lengthy fingers ended with cruel-looking hooked claws and their oversized, sharp-toothed maws were framed by snaky, disgusting-looking beards. The creatures' pointed ears flickered as they regarded blacksmith and son then, in unison, they began chanting in their dark language.

Peter stepped forward, pulling an oversized (for a Human) long sword from its holster at his side. Arthur had seen the priests provide it to his son, but he hadn't noticed that the Minotaur had taken it with. "Get behind me, Father... these are dark creatures."

The blacksmith pulled out his hammer. "I'll not let my son stand alone against these... things. Family, always, Peter-- we do this together!"

As one, they turned to face the attackers, only to see the street ripple in front of the profane beings. Cracks ran down the cobblestone road but, as Arthur stared at them, he realized that the stone itself wasn't breaking since the fissures actually seemed to be manifesting a few inches above them. As the breaks grew wider, two large, molten masses of flesh oozed up and out of the sundering, each topped with a human-shaped head and sporting spindly claws. Once they had pulled themselves free from the glowing cracks, the otherworldly, glowing fissures closed up behind them.

Peter wasted no time. "Today, you go back to the hells!"

Although Arthur rushed forward right behind him, the Minotaur's long, ground-eating stride took him forward far faster than the blacksmith. Even as the roiling balls of putrid flesh were gaining their bearings, Peter had launched himself between them, head down with his horns leading the way. The collision when the Minotaur struck one of the unholy, bearded creatures was immense and its scream caused nearby widows to shatter-- but it ended as quickly as it had begin when the thing simply ceased to be, disappearing in a whorl of brimstone smoke.

Unable to spend the time or energy to focus on the 'death' of one of the town's attackers, Arthur's own charge took it right into one of the quivering flesh mounds and he finished his sprint with a leaping attack and he brought his smithing hammer straight down on the only part of it that looked as though it had any purpose: the head. The weight of his weapon and the strength with which he swung it caused the entire thing to plummet through the bulbous creature like a stone dropped into water.

Only once the head and hammer touched the street beneath it was there any impact to speak of and, at that moment, the blacksmith felt the thing's skull give way with a satisfying crunch. Just like its dark master, the summoned creature disappeared in a wisp of black vapor. Despite Arthur's focus on his opponent's demise, however, he still maintained combat awareness and didn't miss the fact that the second humanoid foe was approaching him rapidly. He raised his hammer to defend himself, but an intervention made that unnecessary.

The sneering creature stepped his direction, coils of beard writhing like a mass of river eels, but it stopped as an arrow appeared in the street in front of it, followed by a second. A loud hunting cry alerted Arthur to another combatant, accentuated by Harold's unmistakable voice as he shouted "Get away from my Dad, you monstrous scut!"

Peter glanced over his shoulder as he parried the spindly claws of the remaining flesh sack with his sword. "Harold?!"

The Gnoll leapt down from a rooftop as he knocked another arrow in his bow. "I'm here, Peter! Just watch yourself!"

The Minotaur planted his hoof against the head of his assailant and kicked it back, shouting over his shoulder. "I'm glad-- but watch the language!"

Harold loosed another arrow, which found its home in the shoulder of the last humanoid beast facing off against them. "I said 'scut'! That's nowhere near as bad as ass!"

Arthur rushed to Peter's aid, swinging his hammer to force the legged assailant back. "Focus, you two!"

Despite his intervention, the blacksmith's aggression was only a temporary deterrent, and the things whip-like tail caught him in the ankle, off-balancing him long enough for the devilish creature to seize its chance and it launched itself forward, wicked claws slicing into Peter; the minotaur was hit once on the ribs and once on the forearm, but he shrugged it off and head-butted the creature, sending it sprawling back.

Two arrows flew in overhead, each hitting the sack of flesh as Arthur followed up Peter's head-butt with two strikes from his hammer; the weapon did almost nothing to the infernal creature's supernaturally stalwart body. It sneered in response and turned to regard the blacksmith, pulling its claws back to strike, but an arrow caught it in the palm, piercing its flesh the whole way through and it shrieked, forked tongue wagging in the air until Peter's backhand swipe with his sword cut it off.

Distracted, the Minotaur left himself open to the quivering flesh-jelly creature, which clawed him twice on the thigh with its branch-like appendages. From there, things only got worse as the bearded humanoid lashed out at Arthur, but Peter interposed himself, taking a solid blow from the thing's claw's. Arthur stepped around the Minotaur to attack at the thing in defense of his son, but Peter let out a war cry and cleanly lopped the thing's head off with a mighty hack, dismissing it in another puff of smoke.

The sound of shuffling from beside him was the only warning Arthur received as the head-and-claws-on-a-pile-of-flesh rushed him. He turned, swinging a back-hand blow with his hammer and knocked the thing aside. A blur of tawny brown fur signaled Harold's arrival, and the Gnoll finished it off with a strike from his hand axe. As with all other foes, the final enemy disappeared amidst a gout of foul, acrid fumes.

Arthur scanned the road for any further dangers, but was surprised when the bulky, furry form of his middle son slammed into him from the side and lifted him off the ground in a huge hug. "Dad! You're okay! ...and you're walking!"

It took a moment for him to recall that the last time the Gnoll had seen him was when he lay dying on the street. Recovering from the sudden embrace, the blacksmith smiled, hugging his son back with his free arm. "Your brother kept me alive, and the priests at the temple of Hieroneous helped me."

Peter, by that point, had returned to the two and picked them both up, hugging them to him. When he set them down Harold glanced toward the Minotaur. "The priests must have done well if your leg's healed... oh, and Peter-- I saw you fighting... guess you got over the... uh... thing?"

The eldest son's aversion to violence had always been well-known by his siblings but usually Harold chided him for it; Arthur was surprised when the Gnoll seemed much more respectful about the shortcoming. In response, Peter simply nodded. "I kept Father safe... and I healed him-- the leg. I think Hieroneous wants me to be a paladin..."

The Gnoll cracked a wry grin, giving his brother a light punch to the ribs "Well, if your fur color is any sign, anyway."

Peter offered him a friendly cuff back, but Arthur put an end to the antics by asking a much more pressing question. "Harold... do you know what they did with Lucas?"

The smile fell away from his son's hyena-like muzzle immediately. The Gnoll looked his way and nodded. "The thing took him North. I followed as far as I could-- to Traven Keep... they went in there."

Arthur froze in place; Traven Keep was the home of Sir Asler, and had been in his family for generations. The blacksmith fought to get his tongue to work. "W-what would Sir Asler have to do with any of this?"

Harold shook his head, tail drooping. "No, Dad... I mean... they went INTO the keep... the gate had been destroyed. Whoever attacked the town had already attacked there."

Wasting no time, Arthur slid his hammer into the loop at his belt. Although he didn't relish the idea of putting his sons in further danger, he was a realist and knew he would need their help; he hadn't given them basic martial training for nothing. "Then we go."

Peter's ears went up. "To the Keep, Father?"

"Yes."

Harold snorted. "That's where danger is, Dad."

The Minotaur snorted as well, but at the Gnoll rather than the Human. "Sir Asler is the knight protector of Hearthbridge, and, even though Father is no longer a militiaman he swore himself into his service. If he is holdings are in danger then we must respond."

Arthur was proud of Peter's sense of duty, but he missed an important component. "And Lucas is there... two very good reasons not to run."

Peter nodded succinctly. "Family first."

With nothing more to be said, Arthur headed off down the street. Although Peter followed just a step behind him, Harold lingered, calling after them "Uh... Dad? North is that way. We can get to the gate and--"

The blacksmith waved for the Gnoll to catch up. "I know... but we have to stop somewhere else first."

Harold trotted to catch up and stepped in line beside him. "Where?"

Arthur cracked his knuckles around the hilt of his smith's hammer. "The village armory... if we're going to do this then we'll need real weapons."

Neither of his sons objected.