This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.
The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/duddlered on 2024-06-17 13:12:22+00:00.
READ 9 CHAPTERS AHEAD
Chapter 72 Volume Finale is now available for the Knower Tier Patrons on my Patreon!
Patreon:
Discord:
ART ALBUM:
***
Azeline twirled a healing potion in her hand with a thoughtful look on her face. The other day, just after the meeting with the village chief, Elijah had made good on his promise and sourced a red vial.
Initially, her plan had been simple - drink the potion and be cured of all her ails. After all, that was the purpose of these magical concoctions, wasn’t it? To mend wounds, restore vitality, and get the drinker back to peak condition.
However, upon closer inspection, Azeline realized that the potion Elijah had procured was… particularly potent. The liquid inside the vial seemed to glow with a deep and rich crimson hue as if it were a light. This was no ordinary healing potion- it was a concentrate, a distillation of powerful restorative magic with no once of watering down to be seen.
This put Azeline into a predicament. On one hand, she could drink a portion of the potion and save the rest for later. Just a few sips would be enough to get her back on her feet and ready for action. She could just keep the rest and make it act as a reserve, a failsafe for future injuries or emergencies.
On the other hand, she could choose to heal naturally, to let her body heal naturally. It would be a slower process, but it would allow her to save the entire potion for a truly dire situation. In a world as unpredictable and dangerous as this one, having a full-strength healing potion could last her for who knows how long.
And then there was the third option—selling the potion. Azeline knew that such a high-grade healing item would fetch quite a sum on the open market. With the funds, she could acquire other useful supplies or perhaps even secure some favors from the right people—in a place like Aldenshore, where money talked, and influence was everything.
Lost in her musings, Azeline almost didn’t notice a lone figure approaching her, and it was only when the man spoke up in an all too familiar voice did she looked up.
“How do I look?” Elijah asked, raising his arms to present himself. He was clad in a loose-fitting earthy tunic, half covered in an unbuttoned leather surcoat. For pants, sturdy breeches fitted loosely over his strange earthen boots that were made from strange and alien materials.
Azeline looked him up and down, her eyebrow arching in surprise as she took in his new appearance. She hadn’t even recognized him as he approached and mistaken the man for another peasant. His usual upright and powerful stride was replaced with a more relaxed and lethargic gait that was accompanied by a lazy hench of his back.
Giving him a slow, appraising nod, a small smile playing at the corners of Azeline’s mouth. “Not bad! Not bad at all,” she said, her tone a mix of surprise and approval. “You look like a pilgrim or a fledgling freelancer from the southern islands.”
Elijah’s grin widened, and he was clearly pleased with her assessment. “Perfect. I was going for the nobody merc look.”
A hum of interest left Azeline’s mouth as she nodded her head as she observed Elijah’s new appearance. “I see, I see,” she said, a note of understanding in her voice. “That makes sense. Blending in with the locals, becoming part of the background. Smart move.”
Sweeping her gaze around their little corner of the village, she saw it was bustling with activity. The strange human group she had found herself traveling with was also donning a variety of different outfits. Some were dressed as peasants, simple folk going about their daily lives. Others had taken on the appearance of merchants, their clothes a bit more refined, a hint of prosperity about them. And then there were those, like Elijah, who had opted for the look of freelancers, wandering adventurers, and sellswords.
But what stood out most to Azeline was the sight of them loading their equipment into the back of wooden carriages. Gone were the sleek, metal carriages that moved without the aid of beasts of burden, and in their place were simple, horse-drawn carts.
Azeline turned back to Elijah, a furrowed brow betraying her confusion. “You’re not taking your metal carriages?” she asked, gesturing toward the wooden carts. “I thought those were your primary mode of transportation.”
“Eh? Nah," Elijah lifted an eyebrow before dismissively throwing his hand. “Too conspicuous if we show up in those and too bothersome to hide if we get close and stash them somewhere.”
After quietly considering his words for a moment, Azeline nodded her head in agreement as she tapped the side of her potion. “I suppose you’re right.” She conceded. “People also like to wander and might run into them. You’d need to station a permanent guard.”
“Yep, pretty much,” Elijah agreed, nodding his head. “Last thing we need is some curious local stumbling upon our stuff and causing a scene. Or trying to steal it.”
Taking another look around, Azeline’s brow furrowed further as a thought struck her. Now that she considered it, why were they all preparing now? The expedition wasn’t set to leave for a few days, yet here they were, packing up and getting into character.
“Why the rush?” she asked, turning back to Elijah. “I thought we had a few days before we were supposed to head out. Why is everyone gearing up now?”
Elijah, who had been busy watching Yana continue to meddle with their prisoner in various concerning ways, did a double take towards Azeline. His gaze flickered between the two, making sure the mischievous fairy wasn’t doing anything too crazy, before focusing on Azeline’s question.
“Oh, they’re just familiarizing themselves with the local garb and equipment,” he explained, waving a hand towards the bustling activity. “Getting a feel for how to move, how to act. It’s one thing to look the part, but it’s another to act the part.”
“Act the part?” Azelien murred to her self as she tilted her head in through. The action caused the ears to slight wobble as she took in Elijah’s words. It made sense. If they were going to blend in, they needed to do more than just dress the part. They needed to live it, to make it second nature.
Meanwhile, Yana was zipping around the still unconscious and seemingly braindead prisoner with a mischievous glint in her eye. The fairy had her hand on her chin, deep in thought as she examined the man from various angles, as if he were a particularly intriguing puzzle to solve.
Suddenly, she darted to the man’s face, prying his mouth open with her tiny hands. With a giggle, she grabbed his tongue and pulled it out, stretching it out to hang from the side of his mouth in a comical fashion.
Yana then flew back, putting some distance between herself and the prisoner as she admired her handiwork. It was like an artist stepping back from a canvas, considering the next brushstroke.
“Hmm…” she hummed, tilting her head as she flew from one side of the man’s head to the other, examining him from different angles. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and impish glee. It was a look that would have made Azeline and the otherworldly humans wary and put some distance between themselves and her.
Elijah, still in conversation with Azeline, continued his explanation. “Ya, the sooner we start, the more natural it’ll feel when we’re out there. And the more natural it feels, the more…”
But his words trailed off as a sudden zap filled the air, followed by the sight of Yana electrocuting the prisoner with bolts of violet electricity. The man’s body jerked and spasmed with each zap, his tongue flopping around wildly as the fairy cackled with delight.
“… convincing we’ll be…” Elijah repeated distractedly, his eyes widening at the scene unfolding before him. “Hold on a sec…”
As he started to walk over with a brow furrowed in a mix of concern and exasperation, the fairy continued her mischievous play. She was so engrossed in what she was doing that she didn’t even notice her Apostle rapidly approaching.
Zipping up to the prisoner’s face once more, Yana grabbed an eyelid in each hand and started pumping her arms like pistons, causing the man’s eyes to flutter open and close in a grotesque pantomime of wakefulness.
“WAKEY WAKEY!” she yelled gleefully, her high-pitched voice carrying across the village.
A look of alarm spread across Elijah’s face as she took off into a jog. “Yana!” he called out, trying to get the fairy’s attention. “What are you doing!? Stop that! What the hell is wrong with you!?”
But Yana seemed to be in her own world, lost in the joy of her mischief. She continued her assault on the prisoner’s face, alternating between zapping him with electricity and manipulating his features like a deranged puppeteer.
And the moment he got close enough to snatch Yana out of the air, the prisoner suddenly let out a shrill scream as he twisted and writhed, trying to break free of his restraints.
“JESUS-FUCKING-CHRIST!” Elijah yelped as he stopped in his tracks, stumbling backward.
Elijah’s hand instinctively went to his pistol, drawing it in a smooth, practiced motion. He leveled the weapon at the prisoner, his finger resting alongside the trigger guard as he assessed the situation.
The prisoner’s scream had drawn …
Content cut off. Read original on https://old.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/1dhxqb8/grimoires_gunsmoke_operation_tolkien_ch_64/
You must log in or register to comment.