kase9187
One of 1000 Faces
Jorm was no one special. Just a three-foot tall kobold with a hobby for making music. His deep crimson scales contrasted his sharp yellow eyes, his horns chipped from when he used to travel the world. He gathered both experience both as a renowned fighter in his own regard, and fame through his musical prowess. His heroic actions heavily drowned out the actions of his more youthful past. He’s a hero in the eyes of several people, but he’s taken part in... less than savory activities. His normal attire consists of a set of studded leather armor, tailored to fit him.
Jorm had gotten a letter, an invitation. A new king had been coronated over in a kingdom across the country's trade border. They wanted him to come and perform for the new king, as they requested the best of the best. The letter requested his presence, and normally when someone requests for Jorm to be there, they want him in a professional, job-offering standard. Eager at a king witnessing his performance, he happily got everything together to go to this new king and to his next show.
...
It took a full week to get to it though. The kingdom, Evasiry, was large but on a smaller plot of land. It was condensed, is what it was. Buildings on top of buildings, roadways between buildings in the air. It all had this nice sandy white sheen to it, like it was all made of pale off-white marble. “Ever been to Evasiry, sir?” The elvish carriage driver asked Jorm. “No, not really. I spend my time on the other half on the continent most often. My home’s back over there, not much reason to leave.” Jorm took in the cleanliness of it all compared to the messy lovable chaos of back home. “Well, this place is a bit different than your usual, eh? And up to see the new King Ivgan. Lucky soul.”
The streets were so... pale, in comparison to the wet cobblestone he knew from his portside home. There were streets of sandy, yellowed arches passing between and above. Jorm stepped out of his ride and the carriage left, out of the city gates made of a polished bronze. To his left, Jorm could hear the sounds of half a dozen, if not more, street merchants calling for attentions from passerby. To the right, the signs were identifiable in a number of languages. He walked towards a sign, and read it in his native language of Draconic.
"Crimson Star Inn." He read aloud, chuckling. "Either says that or Red Light Inn. Fun place." He walked inside, the doors swinging shut behind him.
The tables were crowded and bustling with the sounds of adventures and glory from the likes of which Jorm used to travel with back in the day. They exchanged tales of glistening, metallic dragons flying over mountains, burrows filled with out-of-date gold worth a good penny to the right collector, scrolls filled with arcane knowledge lost to time... Jorm reveled in it all as he took a seat at the bar and ordered a small drink and a turkey leg. He ate, half listening to the two humans dressed in plate sitting next to him...
...
"I'm telling you, mate, there's a fortune up in the mountains if we can find some of 'em. Royal brats love the little buggers, easy to collar." One whispered to the other.
"Dude, they're smarter than you're giving them credit for! They'll tear the skin off your face and eat your heart out!" The second replied, obviously worried.
"The royal pet they got in the palace ain't vicious at all. Dunno what you're talking about."
"Well, of course she ain't vicious! She's been raised up with Ivgan his whole soddin' life!"
"Whatsat gotta do with anythin'?"
"They obviously don't let her get too out of line, ya dim!"
...
Jorm finished his meal, paid his due and left the tavern. Seems like wild creature hunting was a profitable venture here... as long as you got the thing back alive, and if you were in one piece. Content that he'd be ready and able for the show tonight, Jorm headed onwards to the palace, taking in the sandy scenery. As he walked up the rather large staircase to the palace gates, two guards halted his approach.
"Speak your purpose, monster."
"Hey, that's no way to treat a guest!"
"A guest doesn't show up in dirty armor. The king would rather his palace floors not be soiled by the likes of you. And your wretched armor isn't helping your case either."
Jorm held back a scowl and chuckled.
"If you're a guest, you might want to get a change of clothes. The show starts in thirty minutes." The guard smirked. "Tick tock, kobold."
...
“Thirty minutes, they said. Had to look ‘Fancy,’ they said.” Jorm mumbled to himself as he wandered the market, searching for high-end attire with armor inlays. “Why they won’t just let me wear my armor is beyond me. And the fucking nerve!” His grumbling was interrupted by the pleasant sounds of chimes from a nearby stall. He focused and heard a voice shouting. “Finest cloth from Avalor! Hand-woven by talented artists themselves!” Jorm approached the… unusual stall. It had an orange-white color pallet unlike the other stalls, and the sign was lined with crystal chimes. The stall owner was about double his height. “Hello, does your clothing provide armor inlays?” Jorm asked. The stall owner, a cross between a fluffy tabaxi and a dragon, his fur brown but his scaly wings lined with a bright green, looked down at Jorm with big blue eyes. “My friend, our clothing is the best you can get! Not only good for looking and *sounding* stylish, but it even provides inlays of whatever you need!”
A stunned silence stood for a good three seconds before Jorm blinked. “I’m sorry, they what?”
“Ah, someone hasn’t seen us before.” The stall owner hopped up and landed on the ground, eye level with Jorm. He stuck out a three fingered, clawed hand. “I’m Fulrus. Nice to meet you, mister...?” “Jorm.” They shook hands, and Fulrus gave a half grin to Jorm. “I’m an Atraxin. We’re a race from a colder part of the world. We don’t like heat, so we only send people with magical protection.” He pointed to two pairs of scaled ears on his head. “We have advanced sound perception, and our culture is highly musical. Most of our high-end fashion sounds as good as it looks!” Jorm cracked a grin. “A highly music-based culture? You sound like my kind of people. Let’s see what you have.”
...
Jorm stepped away from the stall of the strange hybrid with a robe his size, small crystal chimes clinking against each other. A quick dip into the alleyway, and Jorm was able to change in privacy. His armor fit into a small pouch on his belt, but his clothes were a different story. His shirt and pants shifted and changed to form a suit fitting of the robe he bought. His clothing had the magic effect of changing into whatever article of clothing he wanted... provided it wasn't armor. And Jorm never felt safe without some armor on.
Stepping out, Jorm looked like a draconic noble with dwarfism rather than a common kobold. A few quick wipes off his face and he was able to ascend the steps in relative ease, into the court of the royal palace. The doors opened, and he stepped graciously inside.
...
Jorm walked across the ballroom floor, the grand crimson red robe draped over his shoulders. The chimes resounded whenever he took a step, a clear and low pitched tone. The robe had the bonus of feeling like his normal armor due to inserts, hidden against his royal purple suit underneath. Each step felt like it just drew in the noise around him and converted it into a clear chime. He walked forward, straight down the carpet towards where he saw the new king on his throne of marble overlooking the ballroom. It was adorned heavily, as if this wasn't intended to be a ballroom, but was being used as such.
“Showy. I like it.” Jorm’s attire turned heads, and people looked mildly displeased to see a Kobold in such formal attire, much less the king’s ballroom. He maintained a sort of smug “Yeah, I’m here” attitude as he approached the throne. Jorm kneeled before King Ivgan.
“My lord, what an honor to be here in your court,” He said graciously. “I would think you would believe my skills to be sub-par with… normal musicians.”
King Ivgan laughed heartily. “Nonsense, my good man! Anybody has the skills to be on par with anyone!” Jorm chuckled as well, still kneeling. Ivgan spoke again. “Reginald, go fetch tonight’s… entertainment for our esteemed guest.” A slender man in a black suit walked quickly and quietly out of the room.
“My lord, I thought I was summoned here to perform.” Jorm wanted an answer. Who was this… entertainment? “My good lad, you’re our guest of honor! I wouldn’t deprive you of watching a good show!”
Reginald walked back into the room, holding what looked to be a chain. Jorm sucked air through his teeth, quiet enough to not be heard. Something wasn’t moving on the other end, so Reginald tugged the chain. The thing on the end of the chain was pulled out into the open and dragged next to Reginald. An Atraxin, same height as he was. They had black scales with a blue tint and big dark-blue eyes. From what he remembered of Fulrus, this was not male. Most likely a woman, judging on her posture and movements. The chain connected to a collar secured around her neck. She stood up slowly, eyes avoiding his.
King Ivgan chuckled. “Jorm, this is my favorite slave, Volvuntur. She’s a master of acrobatics with those pretty little wings of hers.”
“Favorite slave, sir? You have others?” Jorm asked. “Why, of course! I need cheap labor and servants!” Jorm’s blood was starting to boil. He didn’t like King Ivgan all that much anymore. He always had a hatred and fear of imprisonment, so much so he would actively fight someone like a feral beast should they approach with a collar or handcuffs. And seeing it on something as reluctant and helpless as Volvuntur made him all the more mad.
...
The night was less than pleasurable, the tickling of certain thoughts about King Ivgan tickling the back of Jorm’s mind. It came time for the entertainment event of the night. Thirty minutes were up. Time to see what this show was about.
“Everybody have their ‘dancing rocks’ ready?” King Ivgan’s voice boomed through the ballroom. Everyone took up a bag of rocks, jagged ones the size of Jorm’s palm. Jorm had a bag as well, as if each guest had been given one specifically for this. Reginald led Volvuntur by her… leash. He clipped the end of the chain into the center of the room, the noise a loud clang. The people were whispering about her potential performance tonight. Jorm made his way over to the king.
“Pardon me, sir, but what kind of… entertainment is this?” The king chuckled. “My little slave here is going to put on a dance for us, of course.”
“And the rocks, sire?” “Why, Jorm, the rocks are for when she needs a little… motivation.” The last word hung in the air, so foul that Jorm could almost taste it.
Vol’s dance started simply enough. A few spins around on the edge of her leash, a leap here and there. The crowd clapped with the music played for Vol to dance to. However, they soon demanded more daring and complicated moves. A few jeers, a cheer here and there for her performance. Jorm hoped it wouldn’t happen, but he knew. He saw the first stone fly in slow motion and nail Vol in the back of the head. The stone skittered on the cold marble floor; its edges splattered with blood. He saw blood trickle down the back of her head for a split second as Vol kept trying to dance to the requests of the guests with nary a word. Rocks were being thrown more frequently now. Jorm looked in horror as he saw the guests mercilessly pelt this poor girl with jagged stone for not dancing to perfection. She managed to dodge some but was only met with more in response.
After only a few minutes, maybe five at most, the throwing started getting harder. As if the guests believed the harder they hit the poor slave with their rock, the more likely she would to dance how they wanted her to. Some demanded actions that others reprimanded them for, and Jorm could only look in disgust as they weren't told off for suggesting such acts, but for doing it during a performance. Jorm stared at the dancing slave girl, and their eyes met.
Time slowed down to a crawl. Jorm looked into her eyes. He stared deep into them, and flinched. What writhed about wasn't a beast, nor a determined heroine, or even just someone hoping to survive. He looked into her eyes and he saw... pain. She could hold it off her face, but in that moment, Jorm could feel Volvuntur's urges to scream, to crumble, to die right there on the floor.
A hand grabbed his shoulder, and he turned away to see the same man that had locked Vol into this dance. He leaned down, giving Jorm a crooked smile.
"What's the matter, dear guest? Not enjoying the show? Go on, give her a request." He handed Jorm a stone that looked like a sphere, but was coated in jagged edges and spikes. Jorm looked at the stone and felt the uneven surface. He turned and looked at Vol, who was still dancing, staggering a bit with each blow.
"I..." Jorm whispered a bit. He swallowed and shouted "Do a double spin in the air!" Vol leapt up and twirled only once, getting half of a rotation in before she landed.
"Oh, give her incentive to get it right... go on." Reginald whispered, leaving Jorm to clutch the stone in his hand. He pulled his hand back and tensed his body.
Please miss, please miss, please miss, please miss... Jorm begged whatever deities were watching this show to let Vol dodge his stone. He threw it, and it sailed through the air.
No deities were watching him down below. None wanted to watch this repulsive act. And none granted Vol the mercy of being able to dodge the stone, which hit her forearm and rode up it a bit, narrowly missing her head, Her forearm bled, and Jorm felt himself want to throw up. He hastily hid his discomfort beneath a mask of pleasure, to throw off Reginald.
"Enjoy the festivities." He said, returning to his king's side.
...
Ten minutes. Vol’s silence was broken. She let out a sharp cry in response to a stone hitting the side of her face. She had staggered. More stones were thrown. She tried to dodge, only to get pelted by more for trying to avoid it. Tears mingled with blood, crawling down her ragged body. Jorm threw more rocks, aiming past her and narrowly grazing her. He started to want to cry as well.
...
Twelve minutes. Blood was matted in her fur, dripping from her wings. One of her eyes was swollen shut, but she kept dancing. Jorm was appalled. This... this feels so wrong! Why is this allowed?! He thought to himself. His bag was half empty.
Thirteen and a half. Vol was limping. A rock had hit her leg and a loud crack had shot through the ballroom. Someone had hit bone. The dancing was slowed down, Vol’s efforts to keep silent easier. She could barely keep her head up anymore while dancing. WHEN WILL THIS BLASTED SONG END?! PLEASE, END! Jorm screamed in his head. He only had a few stones left.
Fourteen minutes. Fourteen of the worst minutes in Jorm’s life, and it ended in him seeing Volvuntur try to spin while jumping. She landed on her injured leg and went down; she hadn’t gotten up or even moved. She was still alive, her shallow breaths able to be heard within a few feet of her. Reginald unhooked her chain and forced her to stand and led her back into the other rooms. She followed, half dragged, half limping. Jorm resolved to do something. He'd come back later that night.
...
It was nighttime, the party was over. Jorm had feigned going back into town to the Red Light Inn. He had used his magical abilities to fly back into the palace undetected, using the minute of flight he had. He found where he was going easily enough, the sound of a cracking whip and Vol’s cries let him know where she was. He stuck to the roof, using some daggers to dig into the stone above. After the coast was clear, he dropped to the ground silently and peeked through the door. His robe was stuffed into the bag, his normal armor on.
“Stupid slave!” King Ivgan was using a multi-headed whip on Vol’s body. “You know it was supposed to be longer!” Every crack of the whip against her flesh, Vol let out another cry, eyes shut tight. “You disgraced me!” Her body was chained to the roof, allowing Ivgan to punish her on all sides. “Failure! Useless! Idiot!” Vol was sobbing heavily, her head hung low. Blood dripped onto the floor, echoed against the sound of the cracking whip. “P…Please… I won’t… I won’t… Please…” Jorm watched all of this from the rafters, a twisted sneer on his face. I want to just drop a stone on you right now. Right on your fucking head.
Moving back, Jorm pointed at a door a bit further down, over by where he assumed Ivgan's personal chambers was. A loud knocking resounded from the door as it creaked open. He turned back to the door he'd seen Ivgan through. Ivgan had put down his whip and washed his hands clean of blood.
"Reginald? Is that you?" He calls out as he passes by a hidden Jorm, headed for his quarters. He silently ducked through the door and closed it, locking it with a quiet click. He turned to Vol, tied up. Vol lifted her head and a look of fear spread across her face.
“No… No… No! No! No! Stay away!” She struggled against her chains as Jorm approached. He held up his finger to shush Vol. "T-Take someone else! P-Please! I-I was told I wouldn't be used tonight!"
“Shh. I’m not here to do anything to you. If I was, I would’ve been in here with old Saint Nick."
“You’re… not here… to hurt me?” Vol’s face was still filled with fear as her voice quieted. Jorm shook his head. “The opposite, really. I’m going to get you free.” He pointed to the securing above Vol and a metallic knocking noise resounded, freeing her arms. He did the same with her legs, her bindings off.
"We need to go. Odds are King I'm-A-Dick heard that." Jorm led Vol out of the door, hiding her easily in the shadows.
...
They re-entered the ballroom and heard clapping from the throne. Ivgan was sitting in his throne of marble, offsetting his blackened soul.
“Bravo, Jorm, bravo! You’ve snuck into my castle and freed my favorite slave, and for what? Recognition? Honor?” Ivgan’s voice carried over the empty room. "I've had it up to here! I tried to show you mercy, you monster!"
"I don't keep slaves and beat them for trivial bullshit, you goddamn psychopath!" Jorm called out. Both Vol and Jorm turned to face him, Jorm standing with defiance as Vol shrunk visibly behind him. Guards filtered into the room, surrounding the pair.
“Guards? Put these two in the dungeon. The special cell.”
Vol started panicking. “No! Not there! Master!” She pleaded with Ivgan for mercy.
“He’s not listening, Whirly-bird.” Jorm handed Vol a dagger. “You’ll need to fight. I hope you know how to use that.” Vol nodded, holding the dagger with both hands. She shakily held it in front of her.
Jorm unsheathed his rapier, poison coating the blade in a swirling loop. Vol shuddered, white lines tracing up her body unnaturally. Jorm flinched. She had magic, but unfortunately she didn't seem to be able to control it. Jorm's body vibrated, but more refined than Vol's. Both dashed forward, slashing at the unprepared humanoid guards and eliminating them... all but one. They screamed and ran as they saw their allies decimated by a monster and a slave no higher than their waist at best.
Vol shuddered and shook behind Jorm, her body unused to using magic. Ivgan watched with increasing anger as Jorm turned and looked at Vol. She didn't even appear to be conscious, like she was asleep. Shit. Jorm thought to himself as he caught her as she slumped over, knocked out cold. He picked her up in his arms, turned and bowed to Ivgan.
"Sorry to run, your highness, but I have to run." Jorm flashed a shit-eating grin to Ivgan, making him fume even more.
"YOU INSOLENT WHELP!" Ivgan roared, his voice echoing around the chamber. "I'LL HUNT YOU DOWN! YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!"
Jorm rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yeah, yeah, if I had a fucking gold piece for every time some rando threatened my life, I'd be able to pay for a fucking mansion!"
Jorm stuck up his middle finger, flipping off the king before carrying off Vol's body out the front door quickly. Luckily, Vol was a lightweight, meaning Jorm could carry her out easily. He looked as more guards were ascending the steps, cursing.
"Sorry, chaps, but I can't stay for this show! I got someone to sweep away from here!" His bag on his belt glowed as he lifted off the ground and flew over the guards' heads, over the wall, and down towards the forest nearby. Unfortunately, he dropped out of the air as his minute expired, but he was able to give himself and Vol a soft landing. The guards looked for where the pair might've landed, and Jorm took the opportunity to heft Vol into his arms and dash away into the wilderness.
...
Vol woke up a few hours later. “Mgh… Wh...?” She mumbled from Jorm’s back. Her head was fuzzy, and she didn't remember much of what had happened.
“Morning, sunshine. Welcome to your ride on the Jorm Express. I’m your operator, Jorm.” Jorm cracked a half grin.
Vol’s face felt hot. “Wh-why are you carrying me?” She fumbled out.
“You passed out, the magic you used wore you out. I couldn’t wake you up.” She clutched to him a little harder.
“I… I can walk…” She let go, dropping from Jorm’s back. Pain shot up her leg, but she barely flinched; she’d gotten used to hiding pain.
“Come on, then.” Jorm beckoned her forward. She looked a bit confused, but decided to follow what he had to say.
She took two steps forward, and he just said “Stop. Stop walking.” She cocked her head at him.
“What?” He just facepalmed.
“Your leg. It’s hurt.”
“What? No, it isn’t…” Vol weakly tried to lie… and Jorm was having none of it.
“Come here, we’re far enough that I can do something.” Vol shook her head. Jorm simply sighed and pulled a guitar out of the small bag on his belt... somehow... and played a few chords. He beckoned Vol closer with a single finger, and her body moved on its own. She walked over to Jorm and sat on his knee, showing her injured leg. She, rightfully, began to panic, being forced to move on her own and sitting down on this stranger's knee.
"Just my magic, calm down." Jorm set down the guitar and inspected her leg. "I can charm someone to do something for a while." He frowned as he pushed on her leg a bit and felt her tense up. Even if she denied it, he could tell. Her leg was still broken from her "performance."
"D-Do you use magic on everyone you meet?" Vol asked, her tone a bit biting. Jorm just chuckled.
"No, not unless I'm fucking around or need to."
"So am I special?"
"You're stubborn, and you're leg is fucking broken. I needed to." His smile dropped as he looked about, finding a stick tough enough for her to bite down on.
"Here, bite this. I need to set the bone, otherwise I won't be able to help it." Vol opened her mouth, showing off her rather sharp teeth. Jorm silently thanked the gods above for giving him a stick strong enough to maybe withstand her teeth biting into it. He grabbed a couple of sticks and some cloth, ready to make a splint.
...
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s set and the splint is on it.” Jorm was holding a crying Vol, teeth still sunk into the stick.
“Ith sthill hurths.” She managed. Jorm packed up the bag and got everything situated.
“Let’s get going then. We need to get away from the city before dark.” Vol tried to stand and stumbled straight into Jorm’s arms, the stick falling from her mouth.
“Falling for me already?” Jorm joked.
“…What? No!” Vol hid her face. Both Jorm and Vol laughed as Jorm carried Vol into the forest.
...
Meanwhile, as the dawn was still a ways off, King Ivgan called his advisors together.
"What do I do about that insufferable gecko? Ideas?" An advisor stepped forward.
"We should have the guard hunt him down!"
"... Too costly. I could lose face. Next." Another advisor raised his hand.
"Hire a seer to help?"
"No. I don't want him figuring out anything. God, don't any of you have any good ideas?"
Reginald coughed, gaining Ivgan's attention. "Sir, might I recommend a bounty? We could disguise it as repentance for criminal activities."
Ivgan laughed. "Perfect! Let others hunt him down for sport." Reginald and the royal advisors left as King Ivgan's laugh echoed through the palace.
...
Jorm reached an empty clearing.
"I think we can spare a few minutes of rest. Give me a minute." Jorm let Vol down, and she was able to keep herself standing, if only just. Jorm started to rhythmically chant in a foreign language as Vol pulled out Jorm's sleeping bag. He finished chanting and a dome sprung to life around them.
"Don't mind the hut, we're invisible to the outside. It'll keep us safe. Get some sleep."
"Can we..." Vol fidgets while Jorm unpacks some cooking gear.
"Can we... what?" He looks confused at her nervousness.
"Can you just... come stay with me?"
"Why?"
"I'd just... feel safer." Jorm shrugs and walks over to the bedroll, sitting down.
"You need sleep."
"Just..." Vol looked nervous. "I just need to feel safe." She lies down on the bedroll, closing her eyes.
Jorm watched Vol lie down to sleep and grabbed his guitar. He played a small, plucky tune and began to sing a slow, calm song.
"Rest your head, close your eyes..." Vol yawned, blinking slowly.
"Time to sleep, safe and tight..." The guitar resonated through the dome, a calm constonant.
"Sweet dreams for you tonight..." Jorm's voice was putting Vol to sleep, giving her assurance someone was keeping her safe and was there for her.
"I'll be here with dawn's light..." Vol closed her eyes and began to breathe slowly and evenly. Seeing her fall asleep, Jorm stuffed his guitar back in his bag and just sat near her. She didn't shuffle around, just sleeping softly.
...
Jorm was tending to the campfire he'd made when he heard it. He heard a tree fall in the distance. Vol was fidgeting underneath the robe at the same time, but something was coming. And it was pissed. Jorm didn’t want to leave Vol vulnerable without the dome he put up, but he couldn’t fight unless he left either. He just had to hope they couldn’t tell the dome was there. He just waited and watched as a human in maroon robes with gold trim walked into the clearing, ten feet from the edge of the dome.
“Where are you, lizard?” the human called. They were male, not part of Ivgan’s normal guard. “Come out and I promise not to hurt you.” Jorm watched as he wandered aimlessly around the clearing, not expecting his target to have access to this kind of spell. He left shortly after calling out, not seeing Jorm through the spell.
Vol woke up to Jorm shaking her gently. She blinked a couple of times, trying to wake up completely.
“Why time is what then?” Jorm laughed.
“I need you to run that by me again.”
“When place are they mean?”
“I’m just gonna explain it to you. People are after us, and the magic’s about to expire. We need to get going.” Jorm put out the fire he set a few hours before, covering it in dirt.
“Eh?” Vol looked completely out of it. Jorm rolled his eyes and picked her up, carrying her in his arms.
“When is… me seeing?” She sounded so confused and tired, he felt bad for waking her up. So disoriented, so vulnerable… “Just keep quiet.”
The dome that made up the edge of the spell disappeared, Jorm left in the clearing, backpack full and Vol in his arms making soft chirping sounds. The mysterious individual seemed to be gone. Jorm silently pulled out one of his rations and handed it to Vol, who started nibbling on it. Keeping an eye out for anything, Jorm walked into the tree line.''
...
From a nearby tree, a hooded, robed individual watched the pair of shortstacks walk into the treeline and scowled. They seemed to be respectful of the forest, unlike the other guy who came through and blasted their 64th favorite oak tree. The guy really seemed keen on finding the pair, though. A green vine moved around the neck of the individual, the end lifting up towards the opening in the hood. It hissed at the watcher.
"No, Boross. I don't know why they're here, but from the lookss of it... they'll need to watch out." They stood up on the branch, completely steady, and walked into the trunk of the tree and melded into the bark.
(This is torn from the first 2 chapters of my WIP book, I appreciate legitimate feedback!)
Jorm had gotten a letter, an invitation. A new king had been coronated over in a kingdom across the country's trade border. They wanted him to come and perform for the new king, as they requested the best of the best. The letter requested his presence, and normally when someone requests for Jorm to be there, they want him in a professional, job-offering standard. Eager at a king witnessing his performance, he happily got everything together to go to this new king and to his next show.
...
It took a full week to get to it though. The kingdom, Evasiry, was large but on a smaller plot of land. It was condensed, is what it was. Buildings on top of buildings, roadways between buildings in the air. It all had this nice sandy white sheen to it, like it was all made of pale off-white marble. “Ever been to Evasiry, sir?” The elvish carriage driver asked Jorm. “No, not really. I spend my time on the other half on the continent most often. My home’s back over there, not much reason to leave.” Jorm took in the cleanliness of it all compared to the messy lovable chaos of back home. “Well, this place is a bit different than your usual, eh? And up to see the new King Ivgan. Lucky soul.”
The streets were so... pale, in comparison to the wet cobblestone he knew from his portside home. There were streets of sandy, yellowed arches passing between and above. Jorm stepped out of his ride and the carriage left, out of the city gates made of a polished bronze. To his left, Jorm could hear the sounds of half a dozen, if not more, street merchants calling for attentions from passerby. To the right, the signs were identifiable in a number of languages. He walked towards a sign, and read it in his native language of Draconic.
"Crimson Star Inn." He read aloud, chuckling. "Either says that or Red Light Inn. Fun place." He walked inside, the doors swinging shut behind him.
The tables were crowded and bustling with the sounds of adventures and glory from the likes of which Jorm used to travel with back in the day. They exchanged tales of glistening, metallic dragons flying over mountains, burrows filled with out-of-date gold worth a good penny to the right collector, scrolls filled with arcane knowledge lost to time... Jorm reveled in it all as he took a seat at the bar and ordered a small drink and a turkey leg. He ate, half listening to the two humans dressed in plate sitting next to him...
...
"I'm telling you, mate, there's a fortune up in the mountains if we can find some of 'em. Royal brats love the little buggers, easy to collar." One whispered to the other.
"Dude, they're smarter than you're giving them credit for! They'll tear the skin off your face and eat your heart out!" The second replied, obviously worried.
"The royal pet they got in the palace ain't vicious at all. Dunno what you're talking about."
"Well, of course she ain't vicious! She's been raised up with Ivgan his whole soddin' life!"
"Whatsat gotta do with anythin'?"
"They obviously don't let her get too out of line, ya dim!"
...
Jorm finished his meal, paid his due and left the tavern. Seems like wild creature hunting was a profitable venture here... as long as you got the thing back alive, and if you were in one piece. Content that he'd be ready and able for the show tonight, Jorm headed onwards to the palace, taking in the sandy scenery. As he walked up the rather large staircase to the palace gates, two guards halted his approach.
"Speak your purpose, monster."
"Hey, that's no way to treat a guest!"
"A guest doesn't show up in dirty armor. The king would rather his palace floors not be soiled by the likes of you. And your wretched armor isn't helping your case either."
Jorm held back a scowl and chuckled.
"If you're a guest, you might want to get a change of clothes. The show starts in thirty minutes." The guard smirked. "Tick tock, kobold."
...
“Thirty minutes, they said. Had to look ‘Fancy,’ they said.” Jorm mumbled to himself as he wandered the market, searching for high-end attire with armor inlays. “Why they won’t just let me wear my armor is beyond me. And the fucking nerve!” His grumbling was interrupted by the pleasant sounds of chimes from a nearby stall. He focused and heard a voice shouting. “Finest cloth from Avalor! Hand-woven by talented artists themselves!” Jorm approached the… unusual stall. It had an orange-white color pallet unlike the other stalls, and the sign was lined with crystal chimes. The stall owner was about double his height. “Hello, does your clothing provide armor inlays?” Jorm asked. The stall owner, a cross between a fluffy tabaxi and a dragon, his fur brown but his scaly wings lined with a bright green, looked down at Jorm with big blue eyes. “My friend, our clothing is the best you can get! Not only good for looking and *sounding* stylish, but it even provides inlays of whatever you need!”
A stunned silence stood for a good three seconds before Jorm blinked. “I’m sorry, they what?”
“Ah, someone hasn’t seen us before.” The stall owner hopped up and landed on the ground, eye level with Jorm. He stuck out a three fingered, clawed hand. “I’m Fulrus. Nice to meet you, mister...?” “Jorm.” They shook hands, and Fulrus gave a half grin to Jorm. “I’m an Atraxin. We’re a race from a colder part of the world. We don’t like heat, so we only send people with magical protection.” He pointed to two pairs of scaled ears on his head. “We have advanced sound perception, and our culture is highly musical. Most of our high-end fashion sounds as good as it looks!” Jorm cracked a grin. “A highly music-based culture? You sound like my kind of people. Let’s see what you have.”
...
Jorm stepped away from the stall of the strange hybrid with a robe his size, small crystal chimes clinking against each other. A quick dip into the alleyway, and Jorm was able to change in privacy. His armor fit into a small pouch on his belt, but his clothes were a different story. His shirt and pants shifted and changed to form a suit fitting of the robe he bought. His clothing had the magic effect of changing into whatever article of clothing he wanted... provided it wasn't armor. And Jorm never felt safe without some armor on.
Stepping out, Jorm looked like a draconic noble with dwarfism rather than a common kobold. A few quick wipes off his face and he was able to ascend the steps in relative ease, into the court of the royal palace. The doors opened, and he stepped graciously inside.
...
Jorm walked across the ballroom floor, the grand crimson red robe draped over his shoulders. The chimes resounded whenever he took a step, a clear and low pitched tone. The robe had the bonus of feeling like his normal armor due to inserts, hidden against his royal purple suit underneath. Each step felt like it just drew in the noise around him and converted it into a clear chime. He walked forward, straight down the carpet towards where he saw the new king on his throne of marble overlooking the ballroom. It was adorned heavily, as if this wasn't intended to be a ballroom, but was being used as such.
“Showy. I like it.” Jorm’s attire turned heads, and people looked mildly displeased to see a Kobold in such formal attire, much less the king’s ballroom. He maintained a sort of smug “Yeah, I’m here” attitude as he approached the throne. Jorm kneeled before King Ivgan.
“My lord, what an honor to be here in your court,” He said graciously. “I would think you would believe my skills to be sub-par with… normal musicians.”
King Ivgan laughed heartily. “Nonsense, my good man! Anybody has the skills to be on par with anyone!” Jorm chuckled as well, still kneeling. Ivgan spoke again. “Reginald, go fetch tonight’s… entertainment for our esteemed guest.” A slender man in a black suit walked quickly and quietly out of the room.
“My lord, I thought I was summoned here to perform.” Jorm wanted an answer. Who was this… entertainment? “My good lad, you’re our guest of honor! I wouldn’t deprive you of watching a good show!”
Reginald walked back into the room, holding what looked to be a chain. Jorm sucked air through his teeth, quiet enough to not be heard. Something wasn’t moving on the other end, so Reginald tugged the chain. The thing on the end of the chain was pulled out into the open and dragged next to Reginald. An Atraxin, same height as he was. They had black scales with a blue tint and big dark-blue eyes. From what he remembered of Fulrus, this was not male. Most likely a woman, judging on her posture and movements. The chain connected to a collar secured around her neck. She stood up slowly, eyes avoiding his.
King Ivgan chuckled. “Jorm, this is my favorite slave, Volvuntur. She’s a master of acrobatics with those pretty little wings of hers.”
“Favorite slave, sir? You have others?” Jorm asked. “Why, of course! I need cheap labor and servants!” Jorm’s blood was starting to boil. He didn’t like King Ivgan all that much anymore. He always had a hatred and fear of imprisonment, so much so he would actively fight someone like a feral beast should they approach with a collar or handcuffs. And seeing it on something as reluctant and helpless as Volvuntur made him all the more mad.
...
The night was less than pleasurable, the tickling of certain thoughts about King Ivgan tickling the back of Jorm’s mind. It came time for the entertainment event of the night. Thirty minutes were up. Time to see what this show was about.
“Everybody have their ‘dancing rocks’ ready?” King Ivgan’s voice boomed through the ballroom. Everyone took up a bag of rocks, jagged ones the size of Jorm’s palm. Jorm had a bag as well, as if each guest had been given one specifically for this. Reginald led Volvuntur by her… leash. He clipped the end of the chain into the center of the room, the noise a loud clang. The people were whispering about her potential performance tonight. Jorm made his way over to the king.
“Pardon me, sir, but what kind of… entertainment is this?” The king chuckled. “My little slave here is going to put on a dance for us, of course.”
“And the rocks, sire?” “Why, Jorm, the rocks are for when she needs a little… motivation.” The last word hung in the air, so foul that Jorm could almost taste it.
Vol’s dance started simply enough. A few spins around on the edge of her leash, a leap here and there. The crowd clapped with the music played for Vol to dance to. However, they soon demanded more daring and complicated moves. A few jeers, a cheer here and there for her performance. Jorm hoped it wouldn’t happen, but he knew. He saw the first stone fly in slow motion and nail Vol in the back of the head. The stone skittered on the cold marble floor; its edges splattered with blood. He saw blood trickle down the back of her head for a split second as Vol kept trying to dance to the requests of the guests with nary a word. Rocks were being thrown more frequently now. Jorm looked in horror as he saw the guests mercilessly pelt this poor girl with jagged stone for not dancing to perfection. She managed to dodge some but was only met with more in response.
After only a few minutes, maybe five at most, the throwing started getting harder. As if the guests believed the harder they hit the poor slave with their rock, the more likely she would to dance how they wanted her to. Some demanded actions that others reprimanded them for, and Jorm could only look in disgust as they weren't told off for suggesting such acts, but for doing it during a performance. Jorm stared at the dancing slave girl, and their eyes met.
Time slowed down to a crawl. Jorm looked into her eyes. He stared deep into them, and flinched. What writhed about wasn't a beast, nor a determined heroine, or even just someone hoping to survive. He looked into her eyes and he saw... pain. She could hold it off her face, but in that moment, Jorm could feel Volvuntur's urges to scream, to crumble, to die right there on the floor.
A hand grabbed his shoulder, and he turned away to see the same man that had locked Vol into this dance. He leaned down, giving Jorm a crooked smile.
"What's the matter, dear guest? Not enjoying the show? Go on, give her a request." He handed Jorm a stone that looked like a sphere, but was coated in jagged edges and spikes. Jorm looked at the stone and felt the uneven surface. He turned and looked at Vol, who was still dancing, staggering a bit with each blow.
"I..." Jorm whispered a bit. He swallowed and shouted "Do a double spin in the air!" Vol leapt up and twirled only once, getting half of a rotation in before she landed.
"Oh, give her incentive to get it right... go on." Reginald whispered, leaving Jorm to clutch the stone in his hand. He pulled his hand back and tensed his body.
Please miss, please miss, please miss, please miss... Jorm begged whatever deities were watching this show to let Vol dodge his stone. He threw it, and it sailed through the air.
No deities were watching him down below. None wanted to watch this repulsive act. And none granted Vol the mercy of being able to dodge the stone, which hit her forearm and rode up it a bit, narrowly missing her head, Her forearm bled, and Jorm felt himself want to throw up. He hastily hid his discomfort beneath a mask of pleasure, to throw off Reginald.
"Enjoy the festivities." He said, returning to his king's side.
...
Ten minutes. Vol’s silence was broken. She let out a sharp cry in response to a stone hitting the side of her face. She had staggered. More stones were thrown. She tried to dodge, only to get pelted by more for trying to avoid it. Tears mingled with blood, crawling down her ragged body. Jorm threw more rocks, aiming past her and narrowly grazing her. He started to want to cry as well.
...
Twelve minutes. Blood was matted in her fur, dripping from her wings. One of her eyes was swollen shut, but she kept dancing. Jorm was appalled. This... this feels so wrong! Why is this allowed?! He thought to himself. His bag was half empty.
Thirteen and a half. Vol was limping. A rock had hit her leg and a loud crack had shot through the ballroom. Someone had hit bone. The dancing was slowed down, Vol’s efforts to keep silent easier. She could barely keep her head up anymore while dancing. WHEN WILL THIS BLASTED SONG END?! PLEASE, END! Jorm screamed in his head. He only had a few stones left.
Fourteen minutes. Fourteen of the worst minutes in Jorm’s life, and it ended in him seeing Volvuntur try to spin while jumping. She landed on her injured leg and went down; she hadn’t gotten up or even moved. She was still alive, her shallow breaths able to be heard within a few feet of her. Reginald unhooked her chain and forced her to stand and led her back into the other rooms. She followed, half dragged, half limping. Jorm resolved to do something. He'd come back later that night.
...
It was nighttime, the party was over. Jorm had feigned going back into town to the Red Light Inn. He had used his magical abilities to fly back into the palace undetected, using the minute of flight he had. He found where he was going easily enough, the sound of a cracking whip and Vol’s cries let him know where she was. He stuck to the roof, using some daggers to dig into the stone above. After the coast was clear, he dropped to the ground silently and peeked through the door. His robe was stuffed into the bag, his normal armor on.
“Stupid slave!” King Ivgan was using a multi-headed whip on Vol’s body. “You know it was supposed to be longer!” Every crack of the whip against her flesh, Vol let out another cry, eyes shut tight. “You disgraced me!” Her body was chained to the roof, allowing Ivgan to punish her on all sides. “Failure! Useless! Idiot!” Vol was sobbing heavily, her head hung low. Blood dripped onto the floor, echoed against the sound of the cracking whip. “P…Please… I won’t… I won’t… Please…” Jorm watched all of this from the rafters, a twisted sneer on his face. I want to just drop a stone on you right now. Right on your fucking head.
Moving back, Jorm pointed at a door a bit further down, over by where he assumed Ivgan's personal chambers was. A loud knocking resounded from the door as it creaked open. He turned back to the door he'd seen Ivgan through. Ivgan had put down his whip and washed his hands clean of blood.
"Reginald? Is that you?" He calls out as he passes by a hidden Jorm, headed for his quarters. He silently ducked through the door and closed it, locking it with a quiet click. He turned to Vol, tied up. Vol lifted her head and a look of fear spread across her face.
“No… No… No! No! No! Stay away!” She struggled against her chains as Jorm approached. He held up his finger to shush Vol. "T-Take someone else! P-Please! I-I was told I wouldn't be used tonight!"
“Shh. I’m not here to do anything to you. If I was, I would’ve been in here with old Saint Nick."
“You’re… not here… to hurt me?” Vol’s face was still filled with fear as her voice quieted. Jorm shook his head. “The opposite, really. I’m going to get you free.” He pointed to the securing above Vol and a metallic knocking noise resounded, freeing her arms. He did the same with her legs, her bindings off.
"We need to go. Odds are King I'm-A-Dick heard that." Jorm led Vol out of the door, hiding her easily in the shadows.
...
They re-entered the ballroom and heard clapping from the throne. Ivgan was sitting in his throne of marble, offsetting his blackened soul.
“Bravo, Jorm, bravo! You’ve snuck into my castle and freed my favorite slave, and for what? Recognition? Honor?” Ivgan’s voice carried over the empty room. "I've had it up to here! I tried to show you mercy, you monster!"
"I don't keep slaves and beat them for trivial bullshit, you goddamn psychopath!" Jorm called out. Both Vol and Jorm turned to face him, Jorm standing with defiance as Vol shrunk visibly behind him. Guards filtered into the room, surrounding the pair.
“Guards? Put these two in the dungeon. The special cell.”
Vol started panicking. “No! Not there! Master!” She pleaded with Ivgan for mercy.
“He’s not listening, Whirly-bird.” Jorm handed Vol a dagger. “You’ll need to fight. I hope you know how to use that.” Vol nodded, holding the dagger with both hands. She shakily held it in front of her.
Jorm unsheathed his rapier, poison coating the blade in a swirling loop. Vol shuddered, white lines tracing up her body unnaturally. Jorm flinched. She had magic, but unfortunately she didn't seem to be able to control it. Jorm's body vibrated, but more refined than Vol's. Both dashed forward, slashing at the unprepared humanoid guards and eliminating them... all but one. They screamed and ran as they saw their allies decimated by a monster and a slave no higher than their waist at best.
Vol shuddered and shook behind Jorm, her body unused to using magic. Ivgan watched with increasing anger as Jorm turned and looked at Vol. She didn't even appear to be conscious, like she was asleep. Shit. Jorm thought to himself as he caught her as she slumped over, knocked out cold. He picked her up in his arms, turned and bowed to Ivgan.
"Sorry to run, your highness, but I have to run." Jorm flashed a shit-eating grin to Ivgan, making him fume even more.
"YOU INSOLENT WHELP!" Ivgan roared, his voice echoing around the chamber. "I'LL HUNT YOU DOWN! YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!"
Jorm rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yeah, yeah, if I had a fucking gold piece for every time some rando threatened my life, I'd be able to pay for a fucking mansion!"
Jorm stuck up his middle finger, flipping off the king before carrying off Vol's body out the front door quickly. Luckily, Vol was a lightweight, meaning Jorm could carry her out easily. He looked as more guards were ascending the steps, cursing.
"Sorry, chaps, but I can't stay for this show! I got someone to sweep away from here!" His bag on his belt glowed as he lifted off the ground and flew over the guards' heads, over the wall, and down towards the forest nearby. Unfortunately, he dropped out of the air as his minute expired, but he was able to give himself and Vol a soft landing. The guards looked for where the pair might've landed, and Jorm took the opportunity to heft Vol into his arms and dash away into the wilderness.
...
Vol woke up a few hours later. “Mgh… Wh...?” She mumbled from Jorm’s back. Her head was fuzzy, and she didn't remember much of what had happened.
“Morning, sunshine. Welcome to your ride on the Jorm Express. I’m your operator, Jorm.” Jorm cracked a half grin.
Vol’s face felt hot. “Wh-why are you carrying me?” She fumbled out.
“You passed out, the magic you used wore you out. I couldn’t wake you up.” She clutched to him a little harder.
“I… I can walk…” She let go, dropping from Jorm’s back. Pain shot up her leg, but she barely flinched; she’d gotten used to hiding pain.
“Come on, then.” Jorm beckoned her forward. She looked a bit confused, but decided to follow what he had to say.
She took two steps forward, and he just said “Stop. Stop walking.” She cocked her head at him.
“What?” He just facepalmed.
“Your leg. It’s hurt.”
“What? No, it isn’t…” Vol weakly tried to lie… and Jorm was having none of it.
“Come here, we’re far enough that I can do something.” Vol shook her head. Jorm simply sighed and pulled a guitar out of the small bag on his belt... somehow... and played a few chords. He beckoned Vol closer with a single finger, and her body moved on its own. She walked over to Jorm and sat on his knee, showing her injured leg. She, rightfully, began to panic, being forced to move on her own and sitting down on this stranger's knee.
"Just my magic, calm down." Jorm set down the guitar and inspected her leg. "I can charm someone to do something for a while." He frowned as he pushed on her leg a bit and felt her tense up. Even if she denied it, he could tell. Her leg was still broken from her "performance."
"D-Do you use magic on everyone you meet?" Vol asked, her tone a bit biting. Jorm just chuckled.
"No, not unless I'm fucking around or need to."
"So am I special?"
"You're stubborn, and you're leg is fucking broken. I needed to." His smile dropped as he looked about, finding a stick tough enough for her to bite down on.
"Here, bite this. I need to set the bone, otherwise I won't be able to help it." Vol opened her mouth, showing off her rather sharp teeth. Jorm silently thanked the gods above for giving him a stick strong enough to maybe withstand her teeth biting into it. He grabbed a couple of sticks and some cloth, ready to make a splint.
...
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s set and the splint is on it.” Jorm was holding a crying Vol, teeth still sunk into the stick.
“Ith sthill hurths.” She managed. Jorm packed up the bag and got everything situated.
“Let’s get going then. We need to get away from the city before dark.” Vol tried to stand and stumbled straight into Jorm’s arms, the stick falling from her mouth.
“Falling for me already?” Jorm joked.
“…What? No!” Vol hid her face. Both Jorm and Vol laughed as Jorm carried Vol into the forest.
...
Meanwhile, as the dawn was still a ways off, King Ivgan called his advisors together.
"What do I do about that insufferable gecko? Ideas?" An advisor stepped forward.
"We should have the guard hunt him down!"
"... Too costly. I could lose face. Next." Another advisor raised his hand.
"Hire a seer to help?"
"No. I don't want him figuring out anything. God, don't any of you have any good ideas?"
Reginald coughed, gaining Ivgan's attention. "Sir, might I recommend a bounty? We could disguise it as repentance for criminal activities."
Ivgan laughed. "Perfect! Let others hunt him down for sport." Reginald and the royal advisors left as King Ivgan's laugh echoed through the palace.
...
Jorm reached an empty clearing.
"I think we can spare a few minutes of rest. Give me a minute." Jorm let Vol down, and she was able to keep herself standing, if only just. Jorm started to rhythmically chant in a foreign language as Vol pulled out Jorm's sleeping bag. He finished chanting and a dome sprung to life around them.
"Don't mind the hut, we're invisible to the outside. It'll keep us safe. Get some sleep."
"Can we..." Vol fidgets while Jorm unpacks some cooking gear.
"Can we... what?" He looks confused at her nervousness.
"Can you just... come stay with me?"
"Why?"
"I'd just... feel safer." Jorm shrugs and walks over to the bedroll, sitting down.
"You need sleep."
"Just..." Vol looked nervous. "I just need to feel safe." She lies down on the bedroll, closing her eyes.
Jorm watched Vol lie down to sleep and grabbed his guitar. He played a small, plucky tune and began to sing a slow, calm song.
"Rest your head, close your eyes..." Vol yawned, blinking slowly.
"Time to sleep, safe and tight..." The guitar resonated through the dome, a calm constonant.
"Sweet dreams for you tonight..." Jorm's voice was putting Vol to sleep, giving her assurance someone was keeping her safe and was there for her.
"I'll be here with dawn's light..." Vol closed her eyes and began to breathe slowly and evenly. Seeing her fall asleep, Jorm stuffed his guitar back in his bag and just sat near her. She didn't shuffle around, just sleeping softly.
...
Jorm was tending to the campfire he'd made when he heard it. He heard a tree fall in the distance. Vol was fidgeting underneath the robe at the same time, but something was coming. And it was pissed. Jorm didn’t want to leave Vol vulnerable without the dome he put up, but he couldn’t fight unless he left either. He just had to hope they couldn’t tell the dome was there. He just waited and watched as a human in maroon robes with gold trim walked into the clearing, ten feet from the edge of the dome.
“Where are you, lizard?” the human called. They were male, not part of Ivgan’s normal guard. “Come out and I promise not to hurt you.” Jorm watched as he wandered aimlessly around the clearing, not expecting his target to have access to this kind of spell. He left shortly after calling out, not seeing Jorm through the spell.
Vol woke up to Jorm shaking her gently. She blinked a couple of times, trying to wake up completely.
“Why time is what then?” Jorm laughed.
“I need you to run that by me again.”
“When place are they mean?”
“I’m just gonna explain it to you. People are after us, and the magic’s about to expire. We need to get going.” Jorm put out the fire he set a few hours before, covering it in dirt.
“Eh?” Vol looked completely out of it. Jorm rolled his eyes and picked her up, carrying her in his arms.
“When is… me seeing?” She sounded so confused and tired, he felt bad for waking her up. So disoriented, so vulnerable… “Just keep quiet.”
The dome that made up the edge of the spell disappeared, Jorm left in the clearing, backpack full and Vol in his arms making soft chirping sounds. The mysterious individual seemed to be gone. Jorm silently pulled out one of his rations and handed it to Vol, who started nibbling on it. Keeping an eye out for anything, Jorm walked into the tree line.''
...
From a nearby tree, a hooded, robed individual watched the pair of shortstacks walk into the treeline and scowled. They seemed to be respectful of the forest, unlike the other guy who came through and blasted their 64th favorite oak tree. The guy really seemed keen on finding the pair, though. A green vine moved around the neck of the individual, the end lifting up towards the opening in the hood. It hissed at the watcher.
"No, Boross. I don't know why they're here, but from the lookss of it... they'll need to watch out." They stood up on the branch, completely steady, and walked into the trunk of the tree and melded into the bark.
(This is torn from the first 2 chapters of my WIP book, I appreciate legitimate feedback!)
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