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starlling-writes · 1 year ago

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Steel My Heart

An adventurer falls in love with his sword, but can they truly be together when their love is so dangerous?

Rating: Teen Contains: swearing, fantasy violence, alcohol consumption

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Little fanfic inspired by Ginny Di's OC Temper, and the story Temper is writing. I've written this fanfic as if Temper is the author. Because of that, all the main characters are named after smithing terms - which I like to think that if anyone calls Temper out on in, she gets flustered and defensive, saying it's hard to come up with names. This is not the only fun little detail I've put in, but it's the only one I'll disclose (for now). Oh, and yes - even though Ginny really only has fem OCs, I made the main character of the story masc (I have reasons; no, I won't explain rn, sorry).

For now, it's just this one chapter, but I would like to one day make this a full-length fic, especially with all the ideas I already have for it.

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Writing Masterlist

Woe to Weal

“How much can I get with—” Anneal paused as he dumped his coin purse on the bar and counted, then meekly continuing, “three silver?” He was down to his last coins. He didn’t enjoy relying on the sympathy of others, but he had no choice but to bank on it.

The barkeep gave him a pitying look before going back into the kitchen. Hopefully that was good. There hadn’t been much to scavenge or hunt on his way into this village, so any food would be good. On cue, his stomach growled like an owlbear. Not that it could be heard over the boisterous group that stumbled in, making everyone turn and look. A hallow pang turned Anneal’s head back to his measly fortune.

A fortune that was swiftly swiped up by the barkeep. In its place, a plate of food and a stein of juice were set. And the key for a room. He was about to thank the barkeep but one of the new, rowdy patrons all but slammed into the bar beside him. “Good friend, some drinks and food, if you please!” the halfling lilted. “And later some rooms so we may rest at ease.”

They eyed the gold she offered, then the group of hers who were all lost in their own conversation. “You’re adventures.”

“That we are, indeed. And we’re open for hire, should you so need,” she honeyed on.

“Yeah, actually.” They reached under the bar and pulled out a small flier. “Go see the mayor when you got time. She’ll give you the details. If you can manage to handle this tonight, you can dine and stay for free.”

“Well well, what a deal—”

“Sorry,” Anneal cut in, “but is this request open to all adventurers?”

They both looked at him. The barkeep raised their brow as they looked him over again. “You’re an adventurer?”

“I am.” Anneal cleared his throat, then straightened up and adjusted himself. “I admit, I’m… a bit down on my luck at the moment, but I can hold my own.”

A strong hand clamped on his shoulder. It seemed that the halfing’s group had been listening in and were all now circled behind him. The orc woman leaned in close. “Trying to be competition, little man?”

She could easily snap him in half—he had mixed feelings about that. “No, no!” he quickly defended. “I—I’m clearly no competition for the four of you.”

“Correct,” she said.

“I merely meant more of a… partnership? If you will—if the job is even something that would benefit from more fighters?” He glanced to the barkeep, hoping his desperation wasn’t noticeable to everyone.

It was.

The barkeep shrugged. “Hell if I know. Mayor knows more,” they deflected, then promptly removed themself from the situation developing between all of the adventurers.

Anneal slowly turned and faced the group he callously interjected himself into for this job they knew nothing about. Their expressions ranged between friendly, curious, reluctant, and unimpressed.

The orc spoke up again. “So, how do you fight? You look like fragile magic wielder.”

“Uhh…” He didn’t enjoy being called fragile, but compared to her, it was fitting. Especially with how scruffed up he was at the moment. “Well, I guess it’s sorta like magic.” He flicked his hand and in it appeared a spectral dagger. “Right now, these are all I got. But I know how to fight with other weapons, too. I’m best at being sneaky and such. You know—typical rogue shit.”

She nodded acceptingly. “Not bad. Maybe we work on more fighting skills for you.”

“Wait, so… you’re all fine working together?”

“We all fall on hard times at least once. It’s always good to help others when you can.” The elf with pastel hair held out her hand. “I’m Cerromet.”

“Anneal. Nice to meet—ahh!” When he went to shake her hand, a small creature jumped over Cerromet’s shoulder and tried to bite his hand. Luckily, he withdrew in time.

Acting fast, Cerromet turned her hand and grabbed the little psudo-dragon by the belly. She held the fang-bearing creature to her chest and petted it sweetly under the chin. “Sorry about Bloom. She’s just hungry.”

“She’s not the only one!” piped up the gnome. She hopped up on the stool beside him and leaned over for a better look at the plate the barkeep left him. “It’ll be nice to have some actual food instead of goodberries.”

“I’m sorry the ones I make are so sour,” Cerromet pouted with a little attitude. “That’s just how my magic is, Pennyweld.”

The halfling leaned on the bar and stole his stein. She took a swig then said, “I’m Burr, by the way; and Bi’Kern is our burly friend. She’s tough, for sure, but kind in the end.”

“I don’t mean this as a criticism, just an honest question. Do you always speak in rhyme?” Anneal asked.

“It’s more fun to speak in song. Try it sometime and tell me I’m wrong.”

“But do you ever not speak in rhyme?”

“You’ll sooner see ancient dragons fill the sky, than you’ll hear a lilt fail from I.”

“Okay, okay… what’s a rhyme for orange?”

Bi’Kern smacked the back of his head. “Stop being ass. Just drink already.” Burr made a point to start chugging the drink she stole from him while conspicuously returning to the table they had claimed.

They all gathered around the table, eating and drinking, getting to know each other better. Anneal was grateful for how warm and welcoming they were with him. He needed it after the past month. He was still hesitant to think that they’d become his new adventuring group, but the more they talked and laughed together, the more hopeful he grew. The quest they’d take that evening would tell if they were actually compatible.

“Oh thank the gods. Finally, some adventurers who can sort this mess.” Mayor Planish was visibly relieved once the group explained they were interested in taking the quest. “You see, about a couple weeks ago now, this ancient mausoleum within our graveyard was opened. Not to get too into it, but this tomb has been thought to be impenetrable since before this town was even founded—so its opening is… is something. The tomb has been the cause for this horrid stench,” she waved her around the air, “that has permeated everything.”

“Good to know this isn’t usual,” Pennyweld not-so-quietly scoffed.

Planish smiled apologetically. “Yes, well, this stench isn’t the only thing. We sent a couple people to check out the tomb once we realized it was opened, but they never returned. There’s no telling if the worst has happened, or if there’s some force keeping them from returning. Or hells, maybe they found a treasure and magically snuck off. Townspeople have also started to go missing at night. We’re not yet certain that’s connected to the tomb, but it’s a safe bet.”

Something in her story pricked Anneal wrong. He couldn’t tell if she was lying by omission or just lying outright, but he could tell there were secrets she was keeping close to the chest. He held his tongue for now.

“So basically anything could be in there,” Cerromet said. “And we’re to go in blindly for how much of a reward?”

“1000 gold total. And I’m willing to let you keep almost anything you find inside the tomb.”

“Not to sound like a greedy cunt, but is any of that paid upfront?” Burr asked.

The mayor hesitated, then slowly nodded a couple times. “A portion can be arranged.”

The group exchanged glances. “Give us a bit to discuss it over,” Cerromet said, smiling in polite anger. She almost literally pushed the group all the way out of the building and across the street for enough privacy. “We all agree this is iffy, right?”

“Mayor knows more than she’s telling,” Bi’Kern agreed. Everyone nodded, having also caught on to that. “Pay is low, too.”

“Yeah, especially when we have no idea what we’re up against,” Pennyweld said.

“Perhaps we should do some recon and ask around before we decide to accept or turn the mayor down?”

They all agreed and split up to gather information on their own. Cerromet scoped out the cemetery for clues; Pennyweld and Bi’Kern asked around the taverns and eateries; Burr checked out the shops; and Anneal searched for signs of a thieves guild, and other less-reputable info circles.

Overall, their hour of research didn’t turn up much. There were rumors that the mausoleum belonged to an ancient spellcaster—some rumors specified a dark mage, others a philosopher of questionable alignment. There were also no signs within the cemetery that suggested anyone or thing left the mausoleum after it opened. At least, none remained currently.

The mission remained much of a mystery. But everyone, wanting answers, agreed that they were up for the challenge. Up for trying, at least. They reported back to the mayor, then used the initial portion of their pay to get prepare for the fight.

The cemetery was silent and empty, the nauseating stench repelling all visitors. The great, stone double doors of the mausoleum hung askew, cracked and split where they appeared to have been forced open. Entering the mausoleum, the antechamber was long and unassuming; a soft, floral smell offered some slight relief from the rotten stench. Rows of columns stood at each side and a dusting of pink flower petals, decorated the floor to the stone plinth that stood at the other end.

“Fresh petals,” Cerromet frowned. “How did they get here?”

The petals shouldn’t have been there. Who would have left them? Why? Everyone readied themselves for anything.

“That plaque over there seems to have some writing. You think it might hold a clue as to what we could be fighting?” Burr exchanged looks with the others before taking the lead, walking over to investigate.

A shiver made Anneal flinch. Something was near. He whipped around in time to see the petals rise up off the ground. In time to call out to the others so they could at least turn and see the petals swarming forward at them.

Everyone started fighting the flora off. All the melee fighters were having a rough go. Trying to punch and slash little, floaty petals was practically useless. Especially so for Anneal. Even when his spectral blades connected with the swarm, none of them shriveled or smushed the way the others were achieving.

“I thought you said you could fight,” Bi’Kern criticized.

He growled and unsummoned his blades in frustrations, settling for using his fists. “I can fight, but like I said before: I only have my astral knives. Whatever these things are, they must be too dumb to take any psychic damage from them.”

Bi’Kern laughed derisively. A few others held back their own smirks and laughs.

“Ow! These things bite!” Pennyweld called out.

“Did it just get redder?” Anneal asked.

“I think these things are vampiric,” Cerromet guessed. “Watch yourselves. I doubt them getting their fill of blood will be a good thing.”

The vampiric petals proved to be just a tedious hinderance rather than a real challenge. Anneal was once again feeling down on himself. His first test with this new group and he was basically useless—not to mention he didn’t find out any info earlier since this town was so small, there was no underground network. Unless he could really turn things around, he didn’t see things working out with this new group.

“Though they die not, may her gruesome works be ever confined,” Burr read off the plaque. “I don’t think these flowers are the threat this warning had in mind.”

“Agreed.” Everyone gathered at the end of the chamber by the plaque. From here, they saw two staircases, one on either side, curving downward. “Well, shall we continue?” Pennyweld said a bit too merrily.

They decided to split the party and explore both staircases. Burr cast dancing lights for her group, while Cerromet used the same spell via an enchanted ring. But they quickly found out that the dark stairwells led to the same place. Unamused looks were exchanged. Then Pennyweld let out an excited ooh, dashed up the stairs she had just come down, then down the opposite stairs behind the second half of the group. “Hey guys! Our stairs led to the same place!”

Cerromet chortled. Bi’Kern was less amused. But overall, the silliness was appreciated.

Beyond the landing, the hall split in two again. Betting the paths would converge again, the split up to explore. This time the path led to identical hallways with six coffins. All were broken open. All were empty. Well, not fully empty; they found a couple rings, a broken pair of earrings, and an old dagger.

“Here,” Bi’Kern said as she picked up the weapon. Turning towards Anneal, she tossed the dagger at him, saying, “Now you can fight.”

Thankfully his reflexes were better than her knife throwing skills. The blade didn’t draw blood, but it still stung a little. “Please don’t do that again.”

She shrugged. “What? You caught it.”

Brushing it off, Anneal looked the blade over. Did a few test slashes. It needed to be cleaned and sharpened, but overall, it was in good condition for being sealed down there for such a long time. He slid it into the empty sheath on his side.

Continuing on, they started hearing some questionable squelches. The horrid stench was more concentrated here too. With a silent look, they all prepared to fight. As the two hallways came together into a larger chamber, they could faintly see a sarcophagus on a dais. The source of the sound was deeper in the chamber, still shrouded in darkness. Cerromet sent her lights further in, dispelling the dark. When the creatures were revealed, they all wished they had let them stay in darkness as the group left.

Four, fleshy monstrosities lingered a dagger’s throw away. Three of the abominations looked like corrupted, wrong deer; the other creature was a mound of bloody viscera and eyeballs. They were definitely the source of the stench. And they just noticed the group.

One of the abominations bellowed a guttural shriek. It made their skin crawl. Beyond the initial discomfort, there was no lasting effect. The beast exhaled sharply out its nose. Then the fight took off.

All three abominations reached out with an intestine-like appendage, aiming to ensnare them. Penelope and Anneal dodged, while Bi’Kern didn’t resist. She let the thing draw in her in. And when she was close, she ripped and sliced her way out of her restraints, then followed with another axe slash to its body.

Cerromet transformed into a dire wolf and lunged for the throat of another abomination. Her teeth sank easily into its flesh. The creature thrashed, trying to shake her off. As it finally managed to fling her off, Cerromet slashed at it with her claws skidding to a stop a few feet away—her slash missing its mark.

The mound schlepped over to Pennyweld just as her eyes went bright blue. The mound rose up, its flesh spreading into a wide blanket. It tried enveloping Pennyweld, but she kept it at bay with a fury of punches—no, not quite punches; her hands had morphed into bestial, clawed paws that she used to swipe at it. Anneal hadn’t seen anyone fight like her before; the others were only just getting used to this new ability of hers.

One of the abominations switched focus and tried to ensnare Pennyweld. It succeeded in catching one of her wrists. And with her less able to defend herself, the mound began to engulf her. She struggled to get free, to move away. But the creature’s hold held fast. Bi’Kern was too focused to try to assist; and Burr was in the middle of giving Cerromet some quick healing.

But thankfully Anneal was there, and swiftly slipped away from distracting the one that had been attacking Cerromet. He rushed in and sunk two of his spectral daggers into the mound’s fleshy mass. Luckily these things weren’t immune to psychic damage. It shrieked and thrashed, no longer interested in trying to consume Pennyweld—letting her switch her focus to fighting the abomination.

All in all, they had been in tougher fights. They all stayed conscious throughout the encounter. And they weren’t totally wiped of spells and abilities. Thankfully, the monsters dissolved away into nothing, their wretched stench gradually dissipating with them.

“I know this is a grave and all, but… should we check for any loot?”

“If you keep things like that in your tomb, I say anyone who thwarts them deserves to take whatever else you’ve buried with ya,” Anneal agreed. “Also, we did technically take this dagger already, so might as well be thorough about it.”

No one here was morally pure.

But that’s okay.

Besides the few metal weapons left behind by the unfortunate adventurers who first entered here, the only thing of note was the sarcophagus. The top was already halfway off. After seeing the other coffins in the other hallway, it was curious to see a skeleton still inside. The single ring it wore definitely gave off magical vibes. They doublechecked for traps. Seemed safe. They took the ring and the corpse crumbled to dust, catching them all by surprise. It was quickly agreed upon that if anyone asked, they found it like that.

As they started to leave the tomb, something caught Anneal’s eye. Kicked off to the side, partly covered by dirt, there was a stray metal button. He picked it up. It had a unique design on it that he swore he recognized. He pocketed it for the moment, then they left to report in.

“What?” Planish blurted in a panic after they gave their report. “There were really no corpses anywhere? How—what happened to her?”

“Her?” Anneal pressed. He crossed his arms, cocked his head, and gave her a challenging look. “How would you know the corpse was a woman when, according to you, no one has escaped the tomb?”

Planish’s eye twitched. “I—well, you see, the… the adventures had sent a Message before we lost contact.”

“Are you sure that’s how you know?” The rest of the group exchanged looks, unsure of where Anneal was going with this. He stepped forward, leaned on the mayor’s desk, looked her over. “You know, that’s quite the nice coat you have there.”

“Thank you?” she tentatively said. This felt like a trap, but she couldn’t determine how.

“Such a shame that you lost the button on your cuff.” He grabbed her left wrist and held up her sleeve. The broken threads had been snipped away, but the button had yet to be replaced. Anneal withdrew the one he picked up in the tomb and held it against her coat. Planish pulled her arm away, standing up from her desk and turning to hide the damaged sleeve. “You were there. And you escaped—likely while the group of adventurers you hired were fodder for those things.”

She growled. “What do you want?”

“The truth.” The others stepped forward and flanked him. None of them were going to let the mayor escape this without answers.

“Fine…” she sighed, frustrated, and withdrew a book from her desk. She proceeded to tell them the tale of how she found this book of poems behind an exterior stone of the mausoleum. Of how beautiful the poems are and how she fell in love with Izod, the long-departed writer. And so, she hired a group of adventurers to break into the tomb so that they could find the poet’s corpse and cast True Resurrection—so that she can be with her love. However, Planish was not expecting there to be monsters sealed away too, and was quick to flee for her life.

“You endangered your town for that?” Anneal scolded her. “People died because of you and your foolish, parasocial crush! That wasn’t even Izod’s tomb—a different name was on the sarcophagus. Someone hid that notebook behind a loose stone long after the thing had already been built.”

“That spell wouldn’t have worked anyway; that corpse was too long dead. Whoever convinced you otherwise has you severely misled.”

“This town needs new mayor.”

Planish had no further excuses. The group collected the rest of the reward money and left.

They returned to the tavern they met at for food and rest. True to their word, the owner let them eat and drink for free; they even returned Anneal’s three silver from earlier. The ladies were all quite jovial, but a cloud still hung over Anneal.

“You wanna talk about it?” Pennyweld softly asked him.

He took a slow, deep breath, and let it out while still staring into the bottom of his drink. “Can I see that sword we took?” Bi’Kern removed it from their bag of holding and handed it over. He checked the handle and found three, tiny rubies inlaid in the metal with a single rune etched below them. “Remember earlier when I mentioned I recently parted with my previous party? Well…” He stood the blade on the floor, his palm on the pommel to hold it up. “This is what happened to them.”

That sucked their energy away. He went on to explain how the three he traveled with before had ditched him—presumably after hearing about a mission they didn’t want to share the bounty of. He wished he could say he was surprised by their betrayal. But he was the last to join their party and had always felt not quite let in. It left a churning feeling in his gut to learn that the mission they tried to do without him was the one he’d succeed at without them.

“Shit,” Burr said, then took a long drink.

“Hey, you didn’t rhyme,” Anneal called her out, slipping out of his remorse.

With a quirked eyebrow, she leaned forward, using her cup to gesture and point at him, “What else is there to say, when things had gone that way?”

He laughed, conceding. “Fair enough.”

“Here,” Bi’Kern said as she placed a stein in front of Anneal. “One drink.”

Burr smiled and pulled out her lute, immediately starting to play. It was like a secret cue that the ladies knew, for they all took up their own drinks.

“Let’s see if you can keep up,” Cerromet smiled. Anneal felt it was a challenge—one he was not prepared for.

They all started singing along. The beginning was slow and somber, fitting Anneal’s mood. Then the ladies started drumming on the table as the song picked up. When the song cued, they drank. The song was about taking a moment to honor all that was past and gone, but not letting it hold you back from celebrating all the good things you currently have, and looking brightly to the future.

By the end, the bitterness Anneal felt before had dissolved. “Made a whole song for this kind of situation, huh?”

Burr shrugged. “We all have grief that weighs on our hearts, so I found a way to help using my musical arts.”

“Well, thank you.”

“So do you have any specific plans for after this?” Cerromet asked as she fed a chunk of meat to Bloom.

“Oh, uh,” he stammered. Guess they weren’t going to let him into their group. “No. but I’ll figure something out.”

“You should come with us to Ravalo then—if you’re okay with still being in our party.”

Anneal stared dumbfounded at her for a couple seconds. His emotions were being flung every which way tonight. “You’re all okay with me joining you?”

“Of course. We wouldn’t celebrate with you if we didn’t,” Bi’Kern added, her sass coming out more threateningly after having imbibed a few drinks.

Anneal laughed. It was wild to think about how quickly his fortunes had changed today. How quickly he comfortably fell into this new group.

He was too lost in thought thinking it all over that he wasn’t prepared to suddenly hear someone say feed me almost directly into his ear.

He flinched, choaking on his drink. After clearing his lungs and breathing normally again, he looked around for the source of the voice—it definitely wasn’t any of the ladies.

“You okay?” Pennyweld asked. Everyone was giving him curious or concerned looks.

“Yeah…” he said slowly. “Who the hell said that?”

“Said what?”

“Feed me.”

“Well I didn’t hear anything like that, so either you’re hallucinating, or it’s some sort of magic thing.” The others concurred with her. That didn’t make him feel better.

Fool. At your hip, the voice came again. Anneal looked down, and all around. Was someone invisible? Or super tiny? The voice growled, the dagger!

He took the dagger they had grabbed from the tomb out of the holster on his upper thigh and stared at it. “Hello?”

Feed me and restore my strength!

“Oh shit!” Startled, he dropped the dagger on the table. “The dagger talks!”

Burr burst into a fit of laughter. “Of all the weapons you find in the tomb, you grab the one that’s cursed?” she said amid her laughter. “Guess we better hurry to Ravalo & find a cleric to get it reversed.”

“You have some terrible luck,” Pennyweld said, pity nowhere to be heard as she continued to happily devour her plate of mushrooms and stewed veggies.

“If it makes me try to kill you guys, please stop me,” Anneal said flatly. He had had no personal experience with cursed weapons, but had heard plenty of tales of them compelling their wielders to harm those closest to them.

Bi’Kern laughed and slammed her now-empty stein on the table. “Phhwa! You won’t even get close to killing any of us before I break you.”

Anneal wasn’t entirely certain that she wouldn’t try to break him right now…

They other continued making jokes while he examined the dagger. It looked rough. Which was odd for what he knew about magical items—cursed or otherwise; he thought they were supposed to have some kind of immunity to damage. This was certainly no ordinary cursed weapon. It might not even be cursed for all he knew.

Well. Everything in balance, he guessed.

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Writing Masterlist

#ginny di universe #cursed weapon #human x living object #fanfic #had posted this before but took it down

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