Chapter Text
“Fantastic treasure, ey?” Sir Vendrick mused, his deep voice resounding within the confines of his golden barbute helm.
“How uninspired.” The devil that sat to his left snarked, Vendrick looked at the woman: she was blue skinned and curvaceous, dressed in a blazer and walking skirt, the very picture of professionalism. She sized up the bar keeper that had approached them with a single piercing yellow eye, the other hidden by her long sideswept bang. “Surely if you were going to scam us into dealing with your goblin problem, you’d come up with a better story than this to avoid paying my client.”
Vendrick kicked his feet onto the inn table, watching the two business people hash out the parameters of the mission. As a professional adventurer it was useful to have a handler; someone to deal with all the paper work and information gathering for you. That way, you could get to killing things in half the time. For him; he had Elle Forrest, best in the business, of that, his father was certain. Sure she was a hellspawn, but no one knew their way around a contract quite like a devil.
“But it’s true, dozens of adventurers have tried to kill the goblin tribe, but none have returned.” The barkeep explained, his hands twisting his apron. “Surely all their fancy gear would be worth your time.”
“Oooor, more likely,” Elle clicked her tongue. “They said that they would, and then simply walked away.”
The humble bar man flinched at the demon’s tone, Elle smelled his weakness and went in for the kill. “Any rookie weak enough to get killed by a goblin pack is too weak to have anything worthwhile. 4th tier or even more pitiful. If you could not tell from the magic pouring off the mountain sitting next to me, my client is of the 11th.”
“Please, we need ya! The gobbos have been poachin’ our livestock and produce for years now!” The barman begged, he pounded the tabletop with a rough hand. Vendrick stared at him down, he was a handsome little thing; with side parted blond hair, green eyes, and a neat beard. The man was as pretty as a summer peach.
“Don’t be hasty, Elle.” Vendrick interjected, slipping his muscular arms behind his head, his hairy pecs flexing. He leered at the bar man through the T-shaped visor of his helmet. “I am sure we can come to some kinda arrangement; hey little bird, are you a virgin?”
“Huh?” The bar man flushed red, shifting uncomfortably in place.
“Uuuugh.” Elle moaned with undisguised disgust, folding slender arms over her voluptuous chest.
“What? He can be a virgin at 35!” Vendrick countered.
”We’ve been over this, you can’t pay me in virgin souls, Carl.”
“Aw c’mon.” Carlyle Theodore Vendrick II chuckled, inclining his head towards the devil. “A little man meat is worth a goblin or two.”
“And as soon as we start collecting souls, we’re slapped onto the villain list. I’ve been nurturing this career since before you were even born, sir knight.” Elle hissed, injecting his title with as much venom as she could muster. “I will not throw it away because you can’t go a week without sticking your dick in something.”
Vendrick shrugged, letting his attention fall back to the man. He was staring at him, the bar keep was enthralled by his beautiful physique, of that he had no doubt. Vendrick had muscles of iron, almost literally thanks to a little top-of-the-line spellwork. He had no need for armour, so he never bothered with plate. He charged into battle in little more than; his crowned helmet, his greaves and gauntlets. Everything else was optional, pants included. The armour was merely for looks, to maintain his masculine mystique. A warrior without his helmet is like a bird without feathers. He charged into battle chest out, it was a kindness. To allow his opponents to glimpse the majesty of his tits and biceps before he killed them. His abs were probably the most exciting thing anyone in this nowhere village had ever seen, he was a generous man. A true philanthropist.
“Sir?” The bar man asked, interrupting Vendrick’s musings.
“Huh what? Were you talking?” Vendrick huffed, sitting up his boots landing on the worn wooden floor.
“We’ll…I…” The smaller man sputtered, anxiously toying with his wedding band. “We’ll have to talk it out with the others, but if we find enough men to… serve you. Will you help us?”
Elle’s mouth fell open in shock, Vendrick slammed a fist on the table splintering the wood. “HA! Now we’re talking!” He jumped to his feet, standing at his full 2 meters. The spikes of his crowned barbute brushing the ceiling. “All you can pound buffet!” He crowed, clapping his mammoth hands together. He pointed to the bar man, finger gun loaded. ”Alright go get your cute friends and we’ll make some magic happen!”
Pow.
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“I cannot believe this...” Elle frowned, pouring her ire into the town square from her place at the town’s fountain.
“You can be such a pill, Elle.” Vendrick waved off the woman's concern. He wasn't interested in her fussing. She was always like this, ever since his lord-father found the demoness to help manage his budding career in slaughter. However, that was 20 years and over 200 successful quests ago. She didn’t have the power to force him to do anything anymore. Not without whipping out her true form, anyways. “C’mon, you’re acting like this is the first time I’ve ever had groupies.”
“These aren’t fans, Carl. They are sacrifices.” Elle frowned, crossing her arms over her chest. “None of this makes sense. If the town is so willing to throw their bodies to the wolves, why haven't they sent out their own militia.” She began to bite down on her left set of nails, ruining her manicure for the second time that month.
“Because they need a real man for the task, obviously.” Vendrick pounded his fist against his chest. “You think I should oil up my chest first?” He asked, squeezing his pec. He loved how the sun shone on his deep brown skin when he did. “I wanna really leave an impact.” The devil rolled her eyes and looked away. Vendrick just shrugged, maybe he could do it on his way back; fake that post-combat glow.
Movement snagged Ven’s ear, drawing his attention back down the main road. The villagers had begun to gather slowly filling the otherwise empty square. Vendrick adjusted his stance, puffing out his chest and pulling back his shoulders. He needed the wind to hit his cape just right to optimize his heroic grandeur.
Slowly but surely every man in the village from ages 18 to 45 stood before them; a medley of bored faces. Vendrick deflated, this was not the welcome he was expecting. “C’mon, fellas what gives? This is the gratitude you show your saviour? Let’s see some enthusiasm, ey?” He barked at the crowd. The assembly stiffly smiled at him, cold and business-like.
Insight Check Failed! DC10 (WIS) roll10(- 2) total: 8
The barely concealed hostility failed to penetrate Vendrick’s skull. He beamed beneath his helmet. “Now that’s better.”
The towering warrior strode down the line of working stiffs. Most were farmers by trade. He liked that, it gave them a harder edge than you would find on most city folk. “Hm, too skinny, shitty beard, too short...” Vendrick glibly remarked, dismissing them one by one. He was picky, but he had a right to that. He was the best, so he deserved the best ass he could find. The knight had to lament, most of the villagers were other humans; that was fine enough in a pinch, but he did enjoy a little flavour in his sex life. “Hmm, these 3 will do.” Vendrick declared, grabbing two of the burly farmers. They were strong, but not as strong as the knight, just as he liked them. Despite their size, he handled them like toys dragging them away from the crowd.
“Ugh.” Elle looked away, scowling.
“Ey! You can’t jus’ grab us and go! You haven’t been up to the ruins yet.” The bar man grabbed on Vendrick’s cape, struggling in vain to slow him down. Vendrick towed him along, the smaller man’s heels fruitlessly dragging through the dirt.
“The what?” Ven paused, looking over his boulder shoulder. The bar man pointed to the remains of an old keep that perched on the mountainside, visible over the trees. It looked to be an old military installation. Ruins like those were all over the countryside, leftovers from the dark ages. “Oh right, the goblin horde… well, hey Elle can you look after–”
“You know what, no. You are on your own, Vendrick.” Elle turned away, her hair flowing behind her in an elegant arc. “Maybe the consequences of your actions will do you some good. I’ll be having another drink in my room if you survive.” She stormed off, her hooves clomping against the dry dirt.
Vendrick watched her walk away, his eyes bright blue beacons of surprise in the darkness under his helmet. “Tch, who needs her. It’s not like this quest is on the books.“ He waved her off, his dejection resounding in his helm. She’ll see, she’ll love having some man-slaves around the camp. It was time to go to work, he supposed. She was right about one thing, this would be child’s play. A pity, he needed the work out but gains were gains. “So boy–”
“Aren’t you going to ask me for my name…?” The bar man asked, cocking his head.
“Nope.” He pushed the two men he had wraggled at him. “Look after these.” Vendrick turned towards ruins, his cape blowing in the lazy wind. “I have a town to save.”
“Right, whatever. Thanks ‘Carl’.” The barman sneered, giving his saviour a sardonic send off.