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grumpygreenwitch · 8 months ago

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The Witches and Wizards Job 23-24-25

Advance warning, the wizard cuts a little bit loose here. Tagged for some fantasy violence.

I'm aware the links to the back chapters are borked up, but it's nearly midnight right now and I just finished uploading everything to the queue. I'll try to fix them between Thursday and Friday.

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TWENTY THREE

I think no one expected to get together that night and count nothing but wins. But no one was hurt and our knowledge of the situation had grown by leaps and bounds - at least, that was what Ford claimed.

"I'm not happy that you all have Dresden working on the side," he told the room, throwing me a quick look.

I put a hand up; I really didn't mind. I was still trying to digest the truth both Eliot and Hardison had offered me. I'd done my job, and I'd done it well, and with their help I'd done it so quick I was still trying to get used to the fact that both cases were done, had been done nearly as soon as they'd been picked up. But the technology Hardison had used just wasn't something I could ever, would ever, have permanent access to. On the other hand, my expertise, my knowledge, everything I knew about magic and the creatures of that world, was information to be found in no database, no internet search. It was maddening.

"But it's done, so we move on to the auction. Odds are both our targets, as well as the mark, are going to be there: the lady, the portrait and the man in black."

The last bit seemed to startle the night's guest, who'd been lounging sedately on a brand-new couch near mine while nursing a vodka neat. Ford had introduced him as the client. He'd introduced himself as Vanya Fedorov. His accent had introduced him as part of the Russian mafia. Mouse had lifted his head from the moment the man had walked into the loft, and he'd never once looked away. Between him and my dog, I was getting more than a little nervous.

"Nate, there's a problem with the auction," Hardison pointed out as he rejoined us around the coffee table with its sharpie'd circle and anti-tracking ward, as well as a few other newly added protections. He'd left his phone behind by the row of desks after sorting out the delivery of the selkie skins, and he gestured at me.

"Most of the people attending aren't human," I informed the room.

Fedorov's drink paused on the way to his mouth. "My uncle is a hard man," he said levelly. "But his first loyalty is to our business. He knows I am good for it. He would not betray me."

"I don't think he has," Sophie replied. "The bird-woman, the -"

"Alkonost," he supplied.

"She wasn't there to harm you. She was there to protect you."

I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact that this gorgeous woman had decided, on the fly, to bluff one of the most powerful creatures of Russian lore, and she'd stuck the landing. God but I could only hope Ford knew how lucky he was.

"We were immune thanks to Harry," Sophie pointed out, "but you weren't affected at all. She did come looking for you, but to keep you safe."

"Safe from what?" he demanded restlessly.

"The man in black?" Eliot suggested.

"He doesn't want Fedorov hurt." Ford said mildly. I was beginning to recognize that tone as a warning signal. "He very nearly derailed one plan already for you," he told the Russian.

"For me?"

"The museum!" Parker exclaimed in sudden realization.

Nate nodded, then looked at Fedorov. "You made plans to go visit the Sokolov collection. Made them in advance. I had a look at your electronic ledger. You did have plans - for the day after, the last day of the exhibition."

"I did," the Russian admitted readily.

"You changed those plans when someone told you we were there."

Fedorov grinned ruefully. "I thought to press my case and enjoy Sokolov's work. Two birds with one stone. It seemed efficient at the time."

Nate nodded thoughtfully. "See, I was wondering about that. Because our presence there wasn't really important enough to merit derailing anyone's plans. It was you. When he came up to the room, it was to make sure you were there and he had to cancel the plan. You weren't supposed to be there that day."

"But then he did come up, and saw Grandmother," Sophie pointed out. "And getting her was worth more than protecting you."

"Mm," Nate nodded. "It was a rush job; the sort of rush job that happens when someone first says 'go', then 'stop', then 'go' again, and tempers are getting frayed, the timeline is off, everything just this much out of whack…" He waved a hand at us all. "You know the sort."

I did know the sort; I couldn't help but be amused that, from the look on their faces, so did the rest of the Leverage team.

"Explains why the guy was still there fiddling with the system when I got there," Eliot muttered. "He was waiting to put the Witchwell back in place. That's why the nitrogen tank was attached, but still closed."

"How do you know all this?" Fedorov demanded.

"The cameras," Ford replied. "Our… consultant pointed out that it's only the presence of beings like the man in black that blows up technology, and Hardison has created a number of failsafes so we can tell when a screen is about to fail. Turns out you can track someone by their absence nearly as much as by their presence."

The Russian took all of this in slowly, carefully, and finally frowned minutely. "I don't think I care for the Blackbird's interest in me. Or my family. Or my business."

Ford said nothing, but I could see in his face that he was holding back. I risked a glance at the other deadly intelligence in the room. Sophie was looking at the mastermind very closely. She caught my eyes and shook her head tinily.

I said nothing. I had just noticed that, behind Sophie, Parker was frowning, staring at nothing. Apparently Ford was contagious.

"I think your uncle's loyalties are a matter between you and him. For what it's worth, I believe he honestly thinks meeting with these people will help you take over from your father."

"By binding the family to these creatures." Fedorov scoffed. "What do they know of the family business?"

I didn't need to see the look Ford shot me to recognize a cue when I heard one. I picked up the printed photographs next to me on the couch and started handing them out one by one. "The lovely lady in white? Fey. Specializes in erasing evidence. The man next to her in red? Also fey. Specializes in erasing memories." Another picture. "Fat toad-looking man? He's actually a toad. His people love toxic waste. If someone gets a contract with them, they'll never see another fine for dumping again. The gorgeous thing next to him might be the deadliest we've identified so far. She's from Bangkok. Jade Court. Vampire. Human trafficking. This one? I'm not sure, but gosh, things sure do seem to catch on fire whenever he's around, mostly out at sea. Mostly when they're well-insured."

Between Hardison and me, while the 3D printer churned away and I stuck mirror-masks to everything it was spitting out, we'd sifted through enough information to identify thirteen of the twenty four people who we knew were going to the auction. It had been risky, using Koschei's invite to create a resonance spell that would let me find where the other invites were, but God it had paid off so well. We'd done weeks, maybe months of footwork in one long afternoon and half an evening.

It was enough to impress Fedorov - and to worry him. "No. I will not deal with these creatures. They are no better than the Blackbird, and if he's involved then each of them is a trap."

"I'm not telling you this to impress you," I corrected him. "I'm telling you to warn you. They might wanna make it look like you have no choice but to agree with whatever they say. You need to be prepared."

Fedorov took the stack of printouts and stared sightlessly at them. He looked oddly familiar at that moment, as if a touch of deja vu had come at me out of nowhere; he looked like something out of antiquity, like one of the paintings I'd seen in Hardison's screens while he studied Sokolov's work. "Can they die?" he asked.

Ooops, nope, we were back in mafia mentality. "Depends what you shoot them with. And in some cases, where."

"Then I believe you and I should speak, wizard." He shook his head and gestured impatiently. "He just stole the damn portrait. Why is he turning around and selling it already?"

"Because after the auction he won't need it anymore. Or at least that's what he thought, until he met Parker and she stole his key, and all of those." He waved a hand idly at the table's worth of knick-knacks. "So between now and the end of the auction he has to get that key back. You," Nate told Fedorov, "are going to trade it for the portrait. Make sure to tell them that when you RSVP."

"You are sending me into a den of monsters alone, Ford," Fedorov gritted out. "If you want me dead have the decency of doing it yourself."

"Not alone, no. You're bringing Sophie with you. If Dresden can get the tracker off of the other invitation we have, we'll even send Eliot in with you. And we will all be nearby to provide support. We don't want another 'situation', Fedorov, no one wants that."

Fedorov eyed Eliot, who shrugged calmly. He eyed Sophie, who smiled at him. "No offense," he told Eliot, "but I will feel safer with her."

Eliot beamed at the man. "None taken."

I had to agree with both of them, honestly.

"What about Grandmother?"

"She'll be there," Ford assured him. It was the only part of the plan I didn't like, because Ford had no explanation, no reason as to why he believed Baba Yaga would show up at the auction when Koschei was sure to be there. Last I'd checked, and from all Bob had taught me, those two were not on speaking terms, and got along about as well as fire and gasoline.

Fedorov looked thoughtful. "Wizard."

Oh, I did not like where this was going. "Uh."

"Since you are taking jobs on the side, will you take one more?"

"Uh." I looked at Ford, but he said nothing. He was giving me a keen, level look. I liked that even less. "That depends on the job."

Fedorov grinned at me. "He has tried too many times to harm Grandmother. Perhaps to kill her outright. I don't know if this is possible, if he can do this thing. I know he's trying, and I do not like it. I will pay whatever you ask, wizard. If you're there and do your best to protect her."

I felt as if the silence in the room were crushing me. "You want me to protect Baba Yaga."

"You are what I have."

"This is Baba Yaga. Grandmother Winter. Close to a living god as it gets. Not to mention I've already met the Blackbird. He won both times, in case you weren't listening."

"Did he? You walked away and he did not follow. Twice. The way I see it, you won the only victory that matters."

I wanted to scream. To walk away. I would have laughed in Fedorov's face but the truth was, I was scared. He was asking me to stand between what I saw as an unstoppable force and an immovable object. However, and I hated that he was right, but he uh. He was right. I'd stood up to Koschei twice, and I'd walked away both times. Either the man sucked at killing people, and I knew that wasn't true, or I was doing something right. I just didn't know what.

I felt as trapped as Fedorov did, but I could also see his reasoning. Koschei was an asshole. An unparalleled one. No one disagreed on that. But Baba Yaga, even if she was mercurial, alien, inhuman, still cared about the land and the people in a way her pupil didn't. If there was a line on the sand, I knew which side I was on. "I'll do what I can," I couldn't make the words come out civil, but at least I could make them come out.

Fedorov nodded at me. "In that case," he grinned minutely, leaned forward and picked up one of the chicken bones and the little carved wooden cup from among the many knick-knacks on the table and dropped the one inside the other. The bone let out a little rattle. "Let me tell you a fairy tale about Koschei and Grandmother."

TWENTY FOUR

The leshy came back that night, and they brought friends once again.

I was dead asleep in spite of every thought and worry wrecking chaos in my mind. I was worried, and I was pretty sure I had a right to be. We were about to throw a bluff in the face of some of the deadliest, smartest monsters ever to come out of the Nevernever, Leverage also wanted to steal from them at the same time. There was just so much going on that I'd given up trying to keep track of it all, and resigned myself to doing my part of it and never figuring out what, other that stealing, these people did.

Mouse's low growl woke me up as if someone had punched me. He'd been asleep at the foot of the bed, which was big enough for five of me or two of him, and when he stood up I could see his ruff standing up on end, outlined against the faint light coming in through the window. I sat up just in time to hear a muffled yowl of pain, and the creak of the door swinging open.

They'd found me. Of everything we'd picked up, all the trinkets, all the traps, I was still the easiest source of magic to find. I just hadn't known if they'd be willing to gamble that Koschei's stuff would be with me and not in a vault somewhere, or with the Leverage people.

The house had no lintel to speak of, no doorway. It was a safehouse, a fancy storage unit where I'd spent two nights. I'm sure the leshy had expected some trouble getting through the door, but I already knew they had humans in the roster, and humans could pick a lock or break a window, slip inside and invite the leshy in. There wasn't enough of a presence in the house, mine or otherwise, to kick up a passive defense out of habitation alone.

Which was why Eliot had lined every doorway and windowsill with iron nails.

Another muffled yowl and I was quietly on my feet, reaching for my shirt and my duster. There were a few traps between the leshy and what they sought, but once again I was counting mainly on them not being able to use magic to find the stuff. I drew a deep breath, stepped back from the bed, called Mouse to me, and flicked a throw blanket on the bed.

I'm not good at Veils. I know people who can hide entire stadiums worth of people, sight, sound, scent, every sense. Me, I was counting on it being dark so that when the leshy came up, as they must, it would look like I was still asleep on the bed. It didn't make sense for them to risk waking me up while they tore the place apart, which they'd likely do. Not to mention they could always ask me where everything was, and provide all sorts of incentives for me to tell them.

I managed to get my sneakers on before I heard the stairwell creak minutely. I fell back into the shadows of the closet, Mouse by my side, staff on one hand and wand on the other, and waited.

The door to my bedroom opened very slowly. The same dim, reflected streetlight glow that had shone on Mouse showed me the paw-like hand of a leshy as it stepped forward, sniffing the still air in the room. Its eyes locked onto the bed and it moved forward with a little more confidence. It cleared the door and another one came in behind it. They moved to flank the bed. A third one came in.

The moment it was clear of the door I surged forward, slammed the door shut, and pointed my staff at it. "Forzare."

It might have come out a little angry. I was getting real tired of leshy, to be fair. The blast of force threw the leshy through the window in a shower of glass and wood; it screamed as it went, the iron nails on the windowsill scraping it raw.

Mouse flew at another leshy with a snarl. Its nature betrayed it; not only was my dog very big and fairly terrifying despite his youth, leshy were creatures of the field, their nature very close to rabbits, to hares, to moles. It shrieked in immediate terror and went down, scrabbling and writhing, all the fight gone from it, wanting only to get away from its natural predator.

The last one didn't stop to think. It leapt up and kicked me in the chest. I went through the bedroom door like the old oak wasn't even there. The pain was immediate, immense, blinding. Next thing I knew I was on my knees out on the hallway, and I couldn't breathe. I'd be lucky if nothing was broken. Leshy kick like the hares they look like, and the fairy-thug's reaction had been so quick I'd had no time to summon my shield.

Mouse was barking furiously in the bedroom; I couldn't get wits or breath enough to get back on my feet, but I had just enough of them to see motion coming up the stairs. I swung my wand around and let a stream of fire blaze out. The figure in front shrilled inhumanly; behind it, someone cursed entirely too humanly.

I had to get up. I had to move. I was easy prey if I didn't. I got one leg under me just in time for one panicked leshy to come sprinting out of my bedroom, and we both went down in a tangle. It tried to bite my face, and I just barely put an arm up. Its teeth caught it, but couldn't quite punch through the duster's defenses. It didn't feel like roses, though, and someone let out a very undignified howl of pain. Couldn't have been me.

I'd lost my wand when we'd gone down, and I didn't have enough room to bring my staff to bear, so I let go of it, put my free hand on the leshy's face, and let go with all the electricity I'd collected the past day. I didn't have the breath to call it - the words aren't part of the magic as much as an exercise in focus, a visualization aid. I could throw everything around without them, but I'd been using the word to try not to get zapped myself. It was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

Electric fire lit up the leshy's skull from within, made its ears stand up on end; it rolled down my hand and up my arm, but I was far more interested in the fairy-thug not getting another bite in. Fortunately, it crashed down limp on top of me, smoking faintly.

I shoved it aside and groped around for my staff. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I threw my shield up instinctively.

A net crashed over it and came to rest on the gleaming half-bubble, and I was in trouble. The net had magic, unknown magic, probably meant to counter mine. I couldn't let go of the shield without getting caught in the net. I couldn't do magic without dropping the shield. The hallway was narrow, and they couldn't get to me any more than I could get to them, but that left them free to tear my house apart.

Which was apparently the going plan. The leshy I'd singed on the stairwell called out something to the human behind it, who shouted in Russian down the stairs. I heard the door to one of the rooms slam open, and a crowbar start work on the crates.

I forced myself to draw a deep breath. Mouse was still engaged with the last fairy-thug in the bedroom. My ribs were still screaming. My lungs had mostly forgotten how to work. But I needed that breath, I needed the focus of it.

At the peak of it, I dropped to a crouch, dropped the shield and called out, "Ventus!" more or less at the same time.

Have I mentioned I'm a hammer when it comes to magic?

Wind roared out, coming out of me in every direction. It threw the net for parts unknown, it sent the people on the stairwell flying back, stumbling down the steps with startled squawks and something that sounded very much like cursing. I wouldn't know, I don't speak Russian. I found my wand under my foot, lifted my staff and for good measure threw a second gout of wind down the stairwell. "Mouse!"

He came charging out of the room. I peeked in. The leshy was crawling away for the gaping hole in the wall that had been a window, both legs a ruin of greenish blood. I closed what was left of the door between it and us and began to inch my way down the stairs.

There was a hissed, angry argument going on at the bottom of the stairs, probably wondering if I was worth the trouble. Oh, I was not. So many people could've told the thugs, I'm very much not worth the trouble. I'm a burr, and at that point I was an angry burr, and to compound their misery I was an angry burr that could do magic.

Someone shouted a warning in the dark of the first floor. I threw my shield up.

Three bullets bounced off it, along with a shower of sparks. Oh, ok. Uh. I hadn't expected them to decide I was that kind of trouble. Hell's Bells. Boston had powered up my shield, but I'd apparently finally hit on the limit of what the damaged bracelet could do. If it hadn't been made to hold back more mundane threats as well as magic, I would have been very much in trouble.

I could see, vaguely, four of them gathered in what was supposed to be the living room. I was pretty sure there was at least one more crashing and wrecking one of the rooms. I saw one of them grab and yank at another, and some tiny part of me was glad to know the leshy themselves didn't want me shot, but that didn't mean one of their number, likely one of their human buddies, didn't have a gun he was entirely too willing to use. I had to finish this quick, before someone else got trigger-happy.

I dropped the shield. Mouse leapt the moment it was gone, with a snarl like a roar. I love my dog. I know my dog. At that moment I was absolutely terrified of my dog.

So were the thugs. I slammed the butt of my staff on the ground before any of them could get any ideas. "Forzare!" The shockwave sent two of them tumbling - the humans. The leshy tottered, but managed to stay upright. One of them immediately went down with a panicked screech when Mouse slammed into it.

The other twisted one hand sharply and threw something at me that glittered in the dark. I threw my shield up automatically.

The night's breath powder settled on it and began to burn.

I heard a howl, realized belatedly that it was mine; my shield-bracelet had gone instantly white-hot while it tried to defend against the very thing that was attacking it. I dropped the shield, felt the poison sink into my magic. The leshy charged me, as aware as I was that I couldn't throw magic around wildly anymore; I could very well run out of energy mid-fight.

So I swung the staff at it as hard as I could.

The impact drove it into the wall and it staggered back, dazed. I stepped into its space and punched it. Hey, it worked for Eliot. It went down on its knees with a cry.

But the two human thugs were getting up, and one was lifting his arm in a familiar fashion. I couldn't gamble, I called up my shield, gritting my teeth against the pain. The goon slammed the taser into it, electricity arcing from it over the roiling surface of the half-bubble.

I put my hand out, the one with the wire bracelet, dropped the shield and called the electricity to me. It burned down my already singed fingers, and into the bracelet, and I threw it at the other man before he could get it into his head to start shooting again. He made a sound like a broken police siren and crashed down, twitching.

I'd been keeping my eye on the group in front of me and that open bedroom door, but in the middle of the chaos I forgot that leshy are like roaches: there's always more than the ones you see. Something came at me from the kitchen and hit the back of my head. It wasn't even painful; it was just instantaneous darkness; everything shut down. My cheek hit the floor, but I didn't feel it so much as vaguely registered that my perspective on things had changed radically. I heard Mouse snarl, and someone screamed - the natural order of things.

Things went blurry and uncertain for a while. I heard the group talking, and Mouse barking furiously, but I was only aware of it because it was Mouse, and I was worried that they'd hurt him. The night's breath had settled on me like the weight of the world, burning, hissing in a way only I could hear. I felt crushed. I couldn't breathe. My magic felt sluggish and foul, like blood poisoning.

"It's not just the circle, he's got a ward of some sort around them," a man's voice said in English. Someone else spoke in Russian. I was beginning to understand Hardison's comment about learning a language by infection.

"Koldun", a hoarse, gravelly voice said. Something grabbed my face and picked me partially up, talons prickling my cheeks. "Wizard," the leshy said in terrible English. "You hear me?"

"I thought leshy didn't speak." I was trying to get myself in the game, but the night's breath was burning into my bones, my ribs hurt like someone had kicked them out of my chest, and my head was pounding.

The leshy growled - its way of laughing, I realized. It said something to one of the people around. We were in my basement. There were glow-sticks all over, illuminating my work: the brass circle on the concrete floor, closed and holding strong around a small shoebox full of Koschei's knick-knacks. Inside the circle were two more wards: the tracking foil I'd copied from the key, and a little bubble of force, very much like my shield, meant to keep things and people from this side of the Nevernever from getting through.

See, I could learn. I'd remembered that the leshy had been working with humans back at the museum, and I'd been ready.

"He says, 'the world changed, we changed with it'." It was the man who'd shouted a warning earlier, likely the one who'd shot at me. He was wearing all black, the better to be impossible to distinguish from the rest of the group. The leshy growled something at him. "You will dismiss the circle and remove the rest of your protections."

I gritted my teeth. Those talons were like shoe cleats, sharp and solid, and the fairy's grip was incredibly strong. They'd stripped me down to my pants and tee, and I was pretty sure they'd taken off anything that wasn't nailed down. I couldn't even feel the familiar weight of my pendant around my neck. My arms were bound behind me and my shoulder was really unhappy about that. They'd even taken my shoes off. "Bite me."

The leshy growled again and it occurred to me that it probably wasn't a good idea to invite him to do that. It said something a little longer this time. I was trying to figure out if I could use their ignorance to my advantage: the outermost circle was just that, a circle. Any of their human buddies could have made it past it. But because the leshy knew magical circles to be impregnable, they apparently hadn't thought to have the humans try.

"You will dismiss the circle," the translator said. "Or we will shoot your dog."

My lunge was instinctive. And pointless. The leshy stopped me before I could get an inch closer and slammed me back against a wall. It was just hard enough to be painful, but not enough to knock me out again. He even gave me a few minutes to find the wits he'd just send scattering all over with that casual bit of controlled violence.

"I drop the circle, you shoot us both."

The translator spoke. The leshy examined me, head cocked, golden eyes throwing an occasional red gleam when the light hit them just right. He said something long-ish.

"He considered it," the man translated. "But is not worth a death-curse, and you obviously love dog. What assurance can he provide?"

"Lock my dog up in the bathroom. Everyone else waits outside. I'll break the circle for him, and him alone."

"Nyet." The leshy wasn't stupid, though I'd hoped. He spoke at length, the translator asking a couple of questions.

"The dog stays in the net, goes in the bathroom. Three of us stay here. You drop the circle, remove the wards. We take you to the bathroom with your dog. You do not follow."

"I get your gun, you keep the bullets," I added.

That created a brief argument between the man and the leshy, but the translator caved eventually. Not that I didn't think they had a dozen other ways to kill me and Mouse, but the gun was the quickest one.

"And I'll need my hands free."

The leshy didn't wait for the translator. "Use feet."

"Fine."

He dragged me to my feet. Off to one side I could see Mouse, all but wrapped into a net, bound up inside a blanket that had been secured with duct tape. Ah, the net hadn't been for me, it'd been meant for him all along. He snarled, but didn't bark, probably out of pity for my throbbing skull. In the basement the sound would have echoed like thunder. Two humans picked him up warily, and while he tried to snap at them, he couldn't do more than twitch and drool. All but two leshy and the translator followed them out of the basement.

The translator pulled out the gun, removed the clip and the loaded bullet, and I twisted so he could give it to me. He didn't look happy. I made a show of muttering under my breath and calling up some magic. The effort bent me over double and I nearly felt my legs go to jelly. Bile rose up in my throat, and the lead leshy had to hold me up. I had to make it look like I was doing something, though, otherwise the leshy would catch onto my bluff about the circle.

But Boston, ah, Boston. The night's breath couldn't corrode what the city was giving me fast enough. If I could just get away, purge all of the corroded magic, I'd be fine. As it was, I had the power to throw a punch, I just had no way of knowing if it was going to blow up in my face or theirs.

I took a couple of deep breaths, tried again, and scuffed my foot over the circle and the two wards beyond it. And very calmly said, "Ignitum".

The circle broke. The lead leshy gestured the other two forward. The shoebox was plain, empty of anything but the rough dozen or so things Parker and I had got from Koschei. Everything was there, even the feathers and the invitation.

Except for two things.

The leshy grabbed me by the throat. "Key, koldun." He snapped at the translator.

"You are missing things. Where are they?"

"I only agreed to break the circle. It's not my fault if you didn't check your shopping before you paid the bill."

The leshy didn't like that. It slammed me against a wall and snarled. The translator opened its mouth -

The other leshy, who'd managed to grab the box, squealed in pain when something hot dripped down on it, then shrieked, clawing at its shoulder as a sizzling sound and the smell of burning fields began to fill the room. One of the ceiling tiles crashed down.

Everyone looked up. I just grinned at them.

Eliot had set up the trap for me, and he'd honestly had a blast doing so. The basement was bare concrete in every direction; to hide the fact that he was putting iron everywhere he could reach, he'd put up styrofoam ceiling tiles. He'd glued them to the concrete.

He'd laced the glue with iron filings.

Throwing a magical punch? Fifty-fifty. Melting fresh silicone that wasn't even hard yet? Child's play.

The lead leshy barked an order. The translator started for me. While they were both distracted I balanced myself on one foot, lifted the other, and kicked the leshy as hard as I could in the gut. He went sprawling back and crashed down on the floor. I snapped out the word of command. The circle snapped into life and cut him in half.

I dropped to my knees, most of my focus on not throwing up. The rest I channeled into forcing all the corroded magic the night's breath had poisoned out of me. I didn't even bother giving it shape, I just threw it out. It flattened the last two thugs and sent me crashing down on my face, even as I tried to force myself to get up, get to the box, I couldn't let them have the box -

More melted silicone dripped down. The last leshy squalled something that didn't sound nice, and the one human cursed. He came at me, trying to take his gun back. I drew in a deep breath and threw what little clean power Boston had given me in his face as a flash of light. He staggered back, blinded, swearing.

His buddy caught him and they both ran out of the basement, and I was left there, breathing hard, wondering if I should pass out. Or throw up. Or both, maybe. Somewhere above me Mouse was barking fit to bring the house down.

Passing out it was.

TWENTY FIVE

The gunshots woke up the neighbors. The neighbors woke up the cops, who expected to be summoned to such an address to bar brawls or petty theft, not to shots fired in a staid, elderly Boston neighborhood.

The gunshots also roused Nate. He came sprinting down the block to find half a dozen people peering out nervously, each one demonstrating vividly what they considered a safe distance, and none of them agreeing. The mastermind, who knew exactly how far a bullet could travel on kinetic energy alone, never mind inertia, didn't want to think of what would happen if there were more shots. He began taking stock of the problem by waving his phone at three of the people on the street. "Did someone, uh, did someone call the cops?" When the neighbors confirmed, he let out a long breath. "Good, good. Hey, those weren't gunshots, were they?" he asked as he dialed. "Hardison."

The Leverage team roused like a nest of wasps. A Crime Scene van and a two-man team nearly beat the cops to the site; the truck from Animal Control rolled in with them, and the one man joined the two masked people at the door, the cops making a path for them. All three of them winced as they walked in, pausing to yank their earbuds off.

"He's here," Eliot confirmed to the other two as they lit their flashlights, everyone taking a moment to hold their breath and see if they held - which they miraculously did. "You go ahead with the distraction, I'll find him." They had to find Dresden, get him out of the line of fire, and set up something appropriately gunshot-like but wholly accidental before the cops started looking in earnest. At the moment they weren't setting foot in the house, but Leverage could only guess as to why, rather than confirm.

"I need three minutes in the kitchen," Hardison said from behind Parker.

"I need two in his bedroom."

"I think we can buy you that," Eliot assured them.

"We?"

Despite the worry gnawing at him that the wizard had gone and gotten hurt (again), Eliot could only smile faintly. He whet his lips and whistled lightly.

From somewhere in the dark Mouse started barking immediately in response, a sound like thunder. Nate and Sophie, part of the crowd outside, saw every cop wince and twitch away. None of them went for their guns; none of them looked willing to go into the house. The crowd shifted restlessly, and stepped back without being urged to it. They crossed a look, but said nothing.

Parker threw a clean suit and a mask at Eliot and they split up. Alone in the dark, Eliot launched himself to the guest bathroom, just to one side of the stairs. "Harry!" When he got no answer he tried again, just a little louder. "Dresden!" No answer. He sniffed; there was a faint, familiar scent in the air that he couldn't readily place, but which left his gut tightening in anticipation of a punch he couldn't see coming. That, however was immediately set aside when he opened the bathroom door and found Mouse trussed up like a Bolivian hostage. "There you are."

Tied up or not, the Temple dog wagged his tail at him. Eliot started sawing on the duct tape, then paused; there was something sticky on either the ropes of the net or the blanket. Or the dog. Eliot considered shining the light on it, then decided he was better off not knowing. "We need to be quiet," he told Mouse, who whuffed nearly soundlessly at him. "And we need to find Harry, fast."

The moment he was loose, the mastiff sprang up on his feet and charged out of the bathroom. Eliot followed him down the stairs to, where else, the basement. The air was hot and full of the scent of burning plastic. Styrofoam tiles had fallen and shattered, leaving the tidy space a wreck. Eliot smelled rotten candy and recoiled. "Mouse, don't!"

The dog froze, and stepped back, whining.

Eliot knew that smell. He'd only smelled it once before, but sometimes that was all it took. He'd smelled it again, faintly, by the stairs. Rotten candy. Burning licorice. The basement cloyed his senses with it. Someone had come in prepared to take down both wizard and dog, and the hitter gritted his teeth. "Night's breath," he murmured, looked down at the dog. Moused looked up at him, ears perked. "You gonna be alright in there?"

Mouse eased himself gingerly into the basement. Paused. Whuffled.

Eliot followed. "Harry?"

A groan answered him, and he charged in. His boots squished on something very much not blood, but he didn't stop to check what it was. "Harry!"

"I'm gonna be sick," the wizard moaned. Eliot found him slumped in a heap against one side of the basement, tied up very efficiently, looking ashen under the light of the flashlight, Mouse licking his face enthusiastically.

"Place reeks of night's breath, man."

"That was me," Dresden admitted as Eliot worked to free him. "Someone dosed me upstairs. Burned it off here." He let out a vague sound of pain when his hands came loose and he started working feeling into them immediately. "They took the box."

"Who's surprised," Eliot grimaced when he nearly lost his grip on his knife sawing at the ropes around Harry's feet. "What… Why is everything slimy down here?"

"That was me, too," the wizard admitted. "I killed one of the leshy. Things from the Nevernever kinda melt when they die."

"They m- You mean- " Eliot found himself suddenly realizing he was, apparently, wading knee-deep through someone's equivalent of bodily fluids. "You mean we're covered in fairy blood?"

"Blood, guts…" Harry waved a hand to encompass a nebulous whole.

Full of violence as his life was, Eliot definitely had feelings about the situation, and none of them were good. "Damn it, Dresden!" he snapped as he helped the wizard to his feet and dragged him up the stairs.

"It'll evaporate to nothing soon!"

"And what part of 'don't get hurt' didn't you get?"

"You also said 'make it believable'," Harry protested wearily. "And they had humans with them. Again. And the humans had guns so. You know. The night's just been full of surprises."

Eliot hissed a breath out. Of course they would. "Alright. Get dressed." He thrust the clean suit and the mask at Harry. "We're going out the front door."

"Out the - They're gonna notice there's more people going out than came in."

Parker choose that moment to pop up next to them, making them both jump. "I'm not going out the front door." She had Harry's duster on, which made her look even more elfin than she already was, and looked terribly pleased with herself. "I found everything. They had it all stashed together. Amateurs."

Eliot merely imagined strangling the thief. Only a little. Just to soothe his rising temper. "They weren't thieves, Parker." When she gave him a pointed look the hitter realized what he'd said. "Ok, yes, they were thieves, but they weren't here to rob Harry!" Her brows went up. "You know what I mean! Is Hardison done?"

"I'll go check." She turned to look at Harry, and frowned minutely. "Are you hurt?"

"If I answer that, Eliot will get mad at me," he told her as he zipped up the clean suit.

To the hitter's chagrin, she took in that answer solemnly, nodded, and raced off for the kitchen.

"You are hurt," Eliot accused mildly.

"Leshy like to kick."

"Is anything broken?"

"No." Dresden breathed in, deep and very slow. "I don't think so. I'll get back to you on the concussion, though."

"You have a helluva sense of humor for someone I just found hogtied in his own basement."

Eliot saw the wizard grin, hard and bitter. "Eliot, I'm used to going down. I'm also used to waking up in a cell of one kind or another after." He popped the medical mask in place and put up the hood. "This is a distinct improvement."

The hitter had to pause at that. "Harry, don't you have anyone? Anyone that has your back?"

The wizard paused, went very still. "People… don't do so good when they get involved in a wizard's affairs," he admitted slowly, and the burden of pain and guilt and regret in his voice brought Eliot up very short. It had been years since he'd heard such a refined, complex mix of exactly those emotions from someone, but he remembered the day well enough.

He'd been staring in a mirror at the time, and he'd been horribly young.

"And not a lot of people accept that 'men in gray and big swords' trump a lot of the answers they sometimes want out of me."

The hitter caught the wizard's good shoulder. "Harry, for what it's worth," he said evenly. "I know it's hard. I know how it is when you've drawn a line on the sand and no one sees you holding it. Me, I'm here to keep my team safe. Twice, so far, I wasn't there - but you were. And that's enough for me. Thank you."

Dresden blew out a long breath. "Don't suppose you guys want to move to Chicago?"

"No more than you wanna move to Boston." Eliot looked up to see Hardison coming out of the kitchen, passing his backpack to Parker and taking hers in exchange. "Come on. The timing Hardison cooked up is tricky."

They marched out, the Animal Control guy first, leading the friendliest, most gigantic and slobberiest ball of fur out, leaving all the cops vaguely embarrassed that they'd been afraid to step into the house. Mouse hammed it up, tongue lolling to one side and tail wagging cheerfully. The crime scene people cleared out, the cops poured in, and everyone jumped into their respective vehicles.

It took a while to put both the Animal Control pick-up and the Crime Scene van back in place, none the worse for their small adventure, and everyone reconvened back at the loft. Sophie reported that there had been plenty of cops in the kitchen when the same security system that had destroyed the bedroom window interacted badly with an ancient electric board, entombed in the walls. The system had blown the garden door out onto the overgrown grass, and the antique board had gone off like a gun once again. A report had been written; fines would have to be paid. The owner had been summoned, and she'd been most grateful for everyone's prompt response, gracious and elegant even in her concern. Everyone had gone home somewhat disappointed and secretly reassured that life could go back to what it should be: quiet.

While Sophie soothed the mood at the safehouse, Nate came to see Dresden as Eliot, once again, patched up the wizard in the small spare bedroom behind the kitchen. Harry's entire chest was a rising, ugly bruise. When Eliot moved away to wash his hands, he spoke very quietly to the mastermind. "You know, when I said I'd like a job where I wasn't a punching bag, this wasn't what I meant."

"I know." Nate's mouth was pressed to a thin line. It wasn't just the injuries, or the attack. Violence threatened them all, that was just part of the job. But the violence that kept coming at Dresden was unpredictable and far too big for any countermeasures to readily work. "He's getting more hurt than you have in our worst jobs," he murmured quietly at the hitter.

"He's a civilian, Nate."

"So are you," the mastermind pointed out. "But I know what you mean."

"He doesn't have the training, he doesn't have the mental firewalls."

"Can you teach him?"

"In what, two days?!"

Nate gave the hitter a very keen, very level look. "I think he'd be grateful, and better off, with whatever you do give him." He pitched his voice to carry. "Dresden, what did they get?"

"Everything," Harry replied, testing his arm until Eliot flung a sling at him. "Everything but the key and the Witchwell."

"Mm. But he doesn't need those two back nearly as urgently as everything else. Not once Fedorov's offer gets to him. And he already has the portrait, he doesn't need help stealing it."

"He does if the Witchwell's not his and he needs to return it to the proper owner," the wizard pointed out, frowning thoughtfully.

"Does he?"

"He might. I'm guessing," Harry admitted, "but I don't think it's his. It's too modern, it doesn't fit what we know of the guy."

"I agree with Harry," Eliot added.

"So do I," Nate replied. "His reaction at the bagel shop was very telling. But the man in black has to know we can't destroy it, and he has to know it'd be much easier for him to recover it after the auction." He seemed momentarily lost in thought. He was wondering if Koschei would think of the many ways in which the Witchwell could be turned against him; if that potential danger would force him to divert attention and effort to its recovery.

And in three days' time, I will grant you and your people your heart's desire.

"He'll wait. He'll wait until he can simply take it back."

"He could take it back right now," Harry muttered.

"Could he? That's twice you've faced his hired thugs, and twice you've survived, Dresden. Twice you've almost won, until an external factor stepped in. Have a little faith in yourself. From his side, his odds don't look good."

Eliot understood. "He doesn't gamble. When he wins, he likes it to be by overwhelming force."

The mastermind nodded. "And every time Dresden steps in, it doesn't matter what the man in black throws on the field, it never ends up with a clean victory for him. He'll wait. We go on with the con. Get some rest, Dresden. You're no use as a monkeywrench if you're in pieces."

"I live to please, boss," the wizard declared wearily.

#the dresden files #leverage #my writing #fanfiction #crossover #harry dresden #alec hardison #nathan ford #parker #sophie deveraux #eliot spencer #urban fantasy #fantasy violence

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starlit-hopes-and-dreams · 1 year ago

Note

Ice: share a snippet where a character is taking a risk.

Thanks for the ask, Elli 💜 From this ask game.

I'll pull from Shattered Dreams for this one. A series of risks got us to this point actually, but uh. yeah. They didn't pay off, unfortunately :)

CW for fantasy violence

Serin

“I know what Warren wants. Shut the fuck up,” Marcus snarled. “Or I’ll take it out on you instead.” A slow smile crossed Serin’s face. “Please, do. In fact, I’ll take her place.” Marcus raised an eyebrow at that, then pulled a thin blade from out of nowhere and ran his thumb down the edge, gently splitting his own skin without even a grimace. The sight prompted what felt like a den of snakes slithering and coiling in Serin’s gut, but he made sure his expression remained the same. He forced himself to cock an eyebrow as well, waiting on Marcus’ response. Without ever breaking eye contact, Marcus flicked his wrist. The scream that followed had Serin whipping his head around so fast a muscle in his neck spasmed. Alaia had circled the table, pressing up against the brick wall on the other side, closer to the stairs. Evidently, she’d been inching along as Serin kept Marcus occupied, but now… Serin swallowed. Now, the blade Marcus had been playing with was embedded in her palm, pinning her to the wall. Shock widened her eyes, the whites visible all around. She didn’t cry out again, but the small whimpers she made as her other hand fluttered over the handle had Serin clenching his hands into fists, nails biting into his palms. His jaw ached as he helplessly watched Marcus stalk over to her, grab her free hand, and slam it into the wall by her head. “I’m sorry,” Marcus said, stepping into her space. “Maybe you misheard me when I told you to undress and lay on the table?” “Fuck. You,” Alaia panted. Oh gods. A chill went down Serin’s spine. Marcus… you didn’t speak to Marcus like that.

#starlit asks #i-can-even-burn-salad #no gore or overly descriptive injuries so im gonna leave it at #fantasy violence #it sure gets worse though #:')

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aquadestinyswriting · 9 months ago

Text

Foreshocks

Summary: Meredith and Ufgi head down to the Trading District after finishing a late shift in the Cathedral. They take a shortcut only to find more than they bargained for.

Words: 1,913

Tags: @druidx, @sparrow-orion-writes ,@ashirisu, @thesorcerersapprentice, @blind-the-winds, @philosophika, @the-down-upside-finch

Warnings: Fantasy violence, knives, threats of bodily harm, magical accident

Notes: foreshocks are the initial rumblings before an earthquake hits. I leave it to you, dear audience, to decide what kind of disaster the title is a forewarning of.

It was a quiet evening down in the Trading District. Most of the people who worked in the area had long since left and were chasing the day’s troubles away at the various pubs dotted around the area. The sound of raucous singing filtered out of the Porter’s Axe as two young dwarves, both clerics of Moradin, walked along the street, turning a corner onto a side street wedged between two tall warehouses,

“...So I says to Kidri ‘Ye’ve got to be the daftest wean I’ve ever kent!’” the taller of the two exclaimed, frustration tinging his words. His companion, shook her head and scoffed,

“I bet she didn’t tak’ that well.” The much shorter dwarf muttered, shaking her head, “Kidri hates being reminded she’s the youngest o’ us.” She looked up at her travelling companion, who grunted,

“I don’t know what to do with her, Merri.” he groaned, “Gran’s trying her best but she’s getting on a bit now, and Granda’s no help whatsoever!” he threw his hands up in the air as the two of them made it to the other end of the side street, pausing a moment to gesticulate. Meredith patted her friend’s arm,

“Ufgi, I’m sure if ye –” she started, only to stop part way through her sentence at the sound of crashing metal quickly followed by a high pitched yelp. Meredith held up a hand to quiet her chestnut-haired friend’s question, her eyes narrowing as she caught sight of a group of skinny, shadowed figures exiting her father’s smithy. Ufgi tugged on her stole, quickly backing up as he noticed the figures as well,

“Merri, no. C’mon we’re better off getting a hold o’ the Ironguard.” he hissed. Meredith glared up at him,

“If you think for one minute that I’m gonna let a bunch of stinkin’ gobbos trash my da’s smithy, ye’ve got another thing comin’ Kiruksson!” she hissed back, stepping forward and tearing her stole out of her friend’s grip, pulling out her mace. Ufgi swore under his breath, quickly Blessed his friend and dashed back down the street to find someone that could help.

The goblins paused in their stroll down the street, looking up at the young dwarf storming towards them. One of them giggled maniacally,

“Aw, lookit her. Does the little baby dwarfy want to come play?” they cooed, causing the rest of their group to giggle along with them.

“Cor, she’s a short-arse, ain’t she?” another called, “What’re you gonna do sweetheart? Swing that hammer at my knees?” The whole group cackled,quickly surrounding the lone cleric. Meredith merely snorted and adjusted her grip on her mace,

“Could take out more than yer knees.” she retorted. She glanced around at the group of greenskins surrounding her. Three. More than she would have liked, but nothing she couldn’t handle for a few minutes at least. The largest of them cackled, drawing out a rusty shortsword,

“I’d like to see you try with all of us on you at once, girlie.” they sneered. They pointed their sword at Meredith, causing the other two to leap forward, drawing their weapons as they did.

Meredith swore under her breath as she ducked under the swings of the two taller goblins and quickly parried a strike coming at her midsection from the one who’d seen her first. She stepped back and pulled out her Holy Symbol with her free hand, quickly muttering a prayer. Golden light shimmered around her, just in time to deflect another dagger strike from the smallest goblin,

“Faster than you look, beardy.” the creature taunted, “But you’re gonna have to do better than some parlour tricks.” they added, looking over Meredith’s shoulder. The cleric had no time to react as a club cracked down on her shoulder, pain shooting down the arm and causing her to drop her mace. Meredith grunted as a clawed hand shoved her to her knees,

“Well, well, well. What have we got here, lads?” a new voice chuckled, “You’se a brave one, I’ll give you that.” it added with a sneer. Meredith growled, turning her head to come face to face with a much larger goblin, his skin a brighter green than the others, surrounded by a much larger group, who were fanning out to completely surround her. The lead goblin leered as he leaned down, placing a large knife at her throat, before running the point down to her chin,

“Pretty little beard you got there. Wonder how long it’s gonna take to get it all off?” he tittered gleefully. Meredith’s heart raced, anger boiling in her gut. Like hell she was going to just sit here and let him shave her. Ignoring the flare of pain in her shoulder, Meredith spat in the goblin’s face and took the opportunity to shove him aside as he reeled back. She stumbled forward, towards a small gap in the crowd, only to be sent sprawling to the floor as two of the lackeys leapt onto her back.

The lead goblin cackled as Meredith struggled to free herself,

“Nice try, girlie, but we’se not stupid!” he crowed, “Tell you’se what, seeing as I like you, I take the beard and let you live, how’s that?” he asked as he sauntered around and crouched in front of Meredith, knife pointed at her face and a sadistic smile on his face. The fire in Meredith’s veins turned to ice.

No. Nonononono.

Meredith tensed, squeezing her eyes shut. She began muttering a desperate prayer under her breath, gathering up as much power as Moradin was willing to grant to allow her to escape.

Several sets of ears perked up, hearing distant whistles and warcries. The lead goblin snorted and leaned in towards the dwarven cleric being pinned by his goons,

“Ugh, damn, gotta make this quick.” he muttered, placing the knife at Meredith’s ear. The moment the knife made contact with bare skin, Meredith's mind went blank, her prayer forgotten. She jerked her head away,

“Leave me alone!” she thundered. The goblins surrounding her didn’t have time to react before the magic that the cleric had been gathering detonated and the street under their feet jerked violently upwards before falling still once more.

As soon as the latent tremors had settled a group of three Ironguard, led by Ufgi raced around the corner,

“Moradin’s beard. What the hells happened here?” Lieutenant Woldbasher asked, looking around at the cracks in the buildings and the scattered remains of what looked like a dozen goblins. He was still taking in the damage when one of his officers called out,

“Sir! We got an injury over here!” Officer Stonehewer knelt next to Meredith, her usually ruddy face ashen as her Lieutenant rushed over, “Lassie’s completely unconscious and barely breathing. She’s got a dislocated shoulder but no other external injuries.” she reported. Woldbasher nodded and looked around at the destruction surrounding them. He frowned,

“Don’t know how she managed this much damage, but this looks like a classic case of over-channel.” he said. The greying dwarf looked up and gestured to his other officer,

“Darbek, run ahead to the Cathedral, inform them that we have a severe case of over-channel incoming. Stonehewer, I want you to start gathering evidence, find out where and how those greenskin bastards got all the way up to the Trading District without being spotted.” he ordered. Both officers saluted, with the stockier Darbek racing further up the street towards the stairs leading to the Cathedral, while Stonehewer took out her notebook and started to scribble in it.

“What about me, sir?” a small, nervous voice asked. Woldbasher looked over his shoulder, his expression softening as he looked at the much younger dwarf dithering anxiously behind him,

“You got any spells left in you, son?” The Ironguard Lieutenant asked. Ufgi grimaced, twisting his hands together, but he nodded,

“Aye sir. But I’m only able to cast the most basic Cure spells, and not many.” he replied,”If Merri’s managed an over-channel that bad I don’t know if –” he cut himself off, swallowing thickly. Woldbasher nodded,

“I know it’s a big ask, son, but you’re the only healer I have.” he told the beardling, “Some healing’s better than none.” he added. Ufgi nodded, setting his jaw and scampering over beside the Lieutenant. He pulled out his Holy Symbol, gripped it tightly in one hand, bowed his head and muttered a prayer. He reached out and gently placed his free hand on Meredith’s arm, a gentle blue glow emitting from it as he did. The wheeze in Meredith’s chest eased. Woldbasher nodded and quickly picked the prone cleric up, gesturing for Ufgi to follow him as he started to run towards the stairs leading to the Cathedral right as a crowd started to gather from the nearby pubs to see what had caused the mini-earthquake that had interrupted their drinks.

Meredith groaned softly as her mind started to claw its way back to consciousness. Everything ached and she didn’t have the strength to even open her eyes just yet. She felt soft cotton under her fingers and could hear a distant, if somewhat garbled, feminine voice singing. Though she couldn’t make out the words, Meredith vaguely recognised the tune as an old hymn. She was about to let it lull her back down into the gentle embrace of sleep, when the smell of incense mixed with pine reached her nose.

Oh, Moradin’s balls. Not again.

As much as the rest of her protested the action, Meredith heaved her eyes open. A familiar, naturally carved and pitted ceiling met her gaze. The singing stopped, replaced by a relieved-sounding sigh,

“Good morning, leannan.” Morag called softly, “How are you feeling?” she asked, gently stroking at Meredith’s cheek as her daughter gingerly turned her head to look at her. Meredith groaned again,

“Like a dozen carts full o’ lead ran me o’er.” she mumbled, “Please tell me that I’m no’ gonna have a bunch o’ medicine shoved down my throat.” she whinged. Morag suppressed her laugh as she shook her head,

“No, love, no medicine.” She replied, “However, Sister Imraksdottir did say you’d need to rest for about two weeks, and has told me you have strict instructions to drink as much water as possible.” She tried not to smile too much as Meredith pouted,

“Oh, alright, fine.” she grumbled, “Please tell me I can do that at home?”

Morag’s smile turned a little more indulgent. She nodded,

“I think the good Sister wants to keep you in one more night, just to make sure that nothing’s been permanently damaged.” she said, “But after that, you’ll be sent home and won’t have to spend that time looking at these sorry old walls.” she assured her daughter. Meredith relaxed, blinking tiredly,

“I think I can deal with that.” she murmured. She fought to keep her eyes open, “How long was I out anyway?” she asked, her words starting to slur. Morag shook her head and stroked her hair,

“About two days. Given how much power you apparently managed to channel, though, I think it’s safe to say that’s not quite enough, hmm?” she replied. Meredith grumbled, but allowed her eyes to slide back shut. Morag continued stroking her daughter’s hair, watching as proper sleep finally swept her into its gentle embrace. She started to sing again, finishing the hymn she’d been singing before her daughter had woken up,

“Better lo’ed ye canna be,

Will ye no’ come back again?”

#aquadestinyswriting #titan fighting fantasy #the trouble with meredith #fantasy violence #knives tw #weapons tw #magical accident #threat of bodily harm

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blog-of-a-time-witch · 1 year ago

Text

The Good Guys Get Trashed

[ Editing Note from Lyb: This battle was written over the course of two weeks as a collaborative effort! The participants in this battle are credited at the bottom. The battle has been formatted to help readability and separated into Rounds. There is a TLDR summary at the end of each round, and one at the very end of the battle. For the AO3 version, click here. Please enjoy reading! ]

Introduction/Surprise Round:

Willy stands alone in the midst of a building’s ruins, examining a small object. High above, the Doodler works its influence over the land below, gently tugging and tearing at the minds of those foolish enough to visit Earth. Those fools are Henry Oak, and Glenn Close. Henry and Glenn teleport onto the plane using Henry’s Tree Stride spell and arrive near the ruins. They see the sole figure of Willy.

Henry holds out his arm to stop Glenn from rushing in, digging his heel into the hard dusty ground. Anger overtakes him as he catches sight of Willy, his veins thrumming with electricity as thunder cracks overhead, lightning crashing down from the suddenly darkened clouds at Willy.

Call lightning, target Willy, Dex Save 19 to hit, 62 damage on hit 31 on fail.

28 > 19, success.

Willy doesn’t look up as the lightning hits him, but he does place the thing he’s holding into his pocket before stretching a little.

As Junior, Birdie, and Hen step into the moment, they find themselves hidden just out of sight. Junior takes their hands off of the shoulders of the other two and peers out toward the scene where Henry and Glenn were confronting Willy.

"It's safe to open your eyes now," Junior whispers, glancing at Birdie and Hen.

After Hen opened his eyes, he looked around their environment. It was horribly barren—what kind of life could thrive here? Just rocks and dust. A lot of dust.

"Looks like they haven't s- ah… ah…" The slight movement of the three young teenagers was enough to send a light cloud of dust up from the dead earth. Unused to handling dust in any typical capacity, Junior's nose twitches. Before they can think, or even really realize what's about to happen, they sneeze. "A-CHOO!" A small flame bursts out with the sneeze, and the sound carries across the ruins with alarming ease. Junior claps their hand over their mouth, but it's too late.

Birdie turns very slowly to look at Junior, expression clearing communicating “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Hen was shaken out of his focus by a loud sneeze and a bright flaming light in the corner of his eye. Hen turns to Junior and looks at them in distress, then turns back to the adults who were preparing to fight. He readies his shield—a flimsy piece of decorative wood—and attempts to hide behind it.

Surprise Round TLDR: Henry tried to get a surprise attack on Willy, but it barely seemed to affect him. Birdie, Hen, and Junior appeared and tried to stay hidden, but Junior sneezed and gave away their presence.

ROUND 1:

Initiative Rolls:

Willy Stampler: 25 (AC 17)

Glenn Close: 23

Henry Oak: 22 (AC 16)

Hen Ry’Oak: 15 (AC 15, 14 w/o shield) [AO3]

Birdie Oak: 12 (AC 14) [AO3]

???: 9

!!!: 8 (reactions)

[REDACTED]: 2 (AC 13)

Junior Kels _ : 0 (AC 10)

[Willy's Turn]

Willy rolls his eyes as he finally looks up and acknowledges Glenn and Henry’s presence. He makes several gestures in Glenn’s direction, smirking lazily as he does so.

Mental Prison, target Glenn. DC 24 Intelligence saving throw– on failure take 32 psychic damage & bound to mental cell (area around target appears dangerous, target cannot see/hear and is restrained). On success take ½ damage. This spell fails if the target is immune to being charmed.

For Glenn, it feels somewhat reminiscent of his time in Meth Bay Supermax. His gaze becomes unfocused, as if he’s been hypnotized.

[Henry's Turn]

Henry looks in horror as Glenn’s eyes glaze over and panic overtakes him. Despite everything they’d been through Henry had never seen Glenn in any state he’d sort under the ‘flight’ of fight or flight response. “You fucking piece of- What did you do to Glenn?!”

He slams a hand down onto the ground, grasping vines shooting through the cracked hard earth trying to restrain Willy, he kicks off of the ground trying to close the distance between them as his form shifts and twists, Growing into a large brown bear.

Entangle, target Willy, save roll 19 strength to beat, restrained on failure.

Wildshape BA.

8 < 19, failure.

Willy looks somewhat surprised as he’s ensnared by the vines, and his muscles spasm briefly as lightning surges through him again. He manages to break out of them almost immediately though, and the expression fades.

Dex save, 31 > 19. Conc. save, 23 > 20. Legendary action: Escape restraints, 24 > 19.

[Hen's Turn]

Hen watches the battle in horror—he had never seen a fight on this scale before. He drops his shield on the ground and digs through his bag, throwing on a cloak.

Cloak of Invisibility — While wearing this cloak, you can pull its hood over your head to cause yourself to become invisible. While you are invisible, anything you are carrying or wearing is invisible with you. You become visible when you cease wearing the hood. Pulling the hood up or down requires an action. If physically attacked, Dex save (DC 12) to keep the hood on.

Perception check w/ a DC of 17 (Hen’s Dex score) to spot movement, Arcana check w/ a DC of 13 (Hen’s spell save DC) to spot the magic while actively looking.

He then leaves the hiding spot to stand next to Glenn.

[Birdie’s Turn]

Birdie is starting to get the idea that she might be a bit too in over her head here, but she didn’t show up to just not do anything. She takes a quick breath and summons a shimmering psychic blade to her hand before chucking it in Willy’s direction.

Attack roll 16+6=22. Damage with sneak attack bonus is 15 of psychic damage. She then uses her movement to run to the cover of a different rock, and then uses a cunning action to hide.

Stealth roll: 5+8=13

She…does not hide well, it’s not a very big rock and people tend to watch people after they throw knives at them, unfortunately.

Willy rolls his eyes but just straight up ignores her.

Henry sees the movement from the blade, tracking it backwards and turning his attention away from Willy. Spotting his daughter behind one of the rocks, fear immediately fills the pit of his stomach.

[Junior's Turn]

Junior watches Glenn crumple into a ball on the ground, wincing. Things were going worse than expected, and if they didn't do something to even things out soon, they'd all be in big trouble. Junior takes a breath and sits up so they have a clear view of Willy. Eyes flashing, the sound of a clock ticks around them, echoing until it reaches Willy's ears. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. The clock's ticking begins to lose speed as Junior Kels casts the spell Slow.

Slow, Wisdom Save 16.

20 > 16

Willy frowns but manages to shake off the droning tick that attempts to assault his ears.

Round 1 TLDR: Willy immediately incapacitated Glenn with a Mental Prison spell. Henry turned into a bear. Henry, Birdie, and Junior tried to attack Willy, but most of their attacks weren’t very effective. Hen used his Cloak of Invisibility to turn invisible and approach Glenn.

ROUND 2:

[Willy's Turn]

Willy takes a breath and begins to cast a spell. A ball of lightning forms and explodes immediately in front of Henry, Glenn, and Hen, although it catches Willy in the crossfire.

Fireball, 1 sorcery point spent to transmute from fire to lightning. 8d6 lightning damage, spell save DC 24 Dex. 28 damage on fail, ½ on success.

Hen fails, rolling a 14 on the Dex check. Takes 28 damage and is now in death saves. The hood falls off his head as he crumples to the ground and is now visible.

Henry fails rolling an 8. Taking 28 damage. He spots Hen and panics.

Glenn fails, rolling a 12. Takes 28 damage and is bloodied.

[Henry's Turn]

Henry, completely terrified, turns fully away from Willy, casting A heal on Glenn and Hen and then trying to tackle Glenn out of the mind prison.

Mass cure wounds 6d8+5 hit points return for Hen and Glenn.

[Hen's Turn]

Hen scrambles to his feet upon being healed and readies his Quarterstaff of Nature, slamming it into the ground in a panic. Vines erupt from the ground and lunge towards Willy.

Quarterstaff of Nature Attack: Thorn Whip — 1d6 + 5 piercing damage, dex spell save DC 13 (creature is pulled 10 feet towards you on fail).

Willy is yanked towards Hen– his expression twitches a little, but he points towards Henry and then gestures towards Hen.

Legendary Action: Crown of Madness– Wisdom saving throw, DC 24. Target must make a melee attack vs a creature other than itself that you choose before moving. It can act normally if none are in range. Target, Henry (instructed to attack Hen)

Henry turns and swipes at Hen (28 damage) shouting ‘Run! Take Birdie and Run!’

Hen can’t, as he is #dead.

[Birdie's Turn]

In a fit of panic, Birdie establishes Psychic Whispers with Henry. “Dad! Dad!”

You can establish telepathic communication between yourself and others. As an action, choose one or more creatures you can see, up to a number of creatures equal to your proficiency bonus, and then roll one Psionic Energy die. For a number of hours equal to the number rolled, the chosen creatures can speak telepathically with you, and you can speak telepathically with them. To send or receive a message (no action required), you and the other creature must be within 1 mile of each other. (currently 2 hours in this case)

Birdie upon seeing all the magic realizes that without spell casting the number of things she can do are pretty limited so she goes to throw another psychic blade because it’s kinda all she’s got atm.

Attack damage: 14+3(1 psionic die used) to get to 17, damage dealt 13 with sneak attack.

Bonus action: Birdie goes for a second psychic blade.

Attack Missed: 14 doesn’t hit the AC

She remembers Nicholas saying something about stealth being overall more helpful but she’s pretty sure he was saying that to make her feel better about being a rogue and not because it’s actually true.

[Junior's Turn]

“HEN!? Fuck!” Junior fumbles for their notepad and scribbles in it furiously. After writing the note, they shove the notepad away and start to run forward.

Movement: 30 feet to the diagonal/right, flanking Willy.

Bonus Action: Uses 2 sorcery points to cast Firebolt. (18 to hit, 17 damage)

Round 2 TLDR: Willy saw through Hen’s invisibility cloak and attacked him, knocking him out immediately. Henry healed Hen, waking him up, as well as Glenn, who was still trapped in the Mental Prison. Birdie and Junior continued attacking Willy. Henry was still a bear.

ROUND 3:

[Willy's Turn]

Willy makes a circular motion with his hands and the ground beneath Henry, Glenn, and the unconscious Hen flashes white.

Circle of Death - 8d6 necrotic damage. Con save DC 24 for ½.

Hen fails (14) and takes 28 damage. The child is #dead4real, as his match HP was 27 and he was already under zero.

Henry fails (19) and takes 28 damage. He mentally begs Birdie to get out of here.

Glenn fails (21) and takes 28 damage.

Willy rolls his eyes. “That wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so fucking easy,” he drawls.

[Henry's Turn]

Henry, enraged, dives at Willy, slamming him backwards with the force of a bear and aiming for Willy’s neck with his teeth, intending to tear open his throat.

He mentally continues to beg, “Birdie please- Run! Get out of here- Please!”

26 to hit :) Nat 20!, 23x2(46 dmg) for attack and bite (18 to hit 7dmg )

Willy practically snarls as Henry tears at his throat. He looks tempted to do something, but… no. He has plans, you know.

[Birdie's Turn]

Birdie considers her father’s words but she can’t leave him here. That’s the whole point. She believed it would be less scary to know what was happening to him rather than try and imagine it from afar (though she’s starting to question that just the slightest bit) “I’m not going home without you!” she thinks.

She is scared though, missing with her blade last turn shook what little confidence she’d mustered, so, she uses her movement to run to another place of cover (still approximately 50 ft. from the center of the action) and does her best to hide

Stealth roll is 4+8 so 12 total…this is like a difficult terrain to hide in, okay?

[???’s Turn]

To the naked eye, the silver ring appears out of thin air. It falls from about three feet in the air and drops to the ground beside Birdie.

( 18+2 Athletics ) Glenn appears to suddenly fall from about a foot in the air, two meters outside of the illusory field of the Mental Prison.

And then a figure appears, a rather smallish figure in black clothes and chain armor with an odd, triangular shield raised in one arm. More specifically, the figure appears at the moment that they are bashing the shield into Willy's head ( 17+2 = 19 to hit, 1d4 damage...4! ).

As the Time Stop spell comes to an end, Psi Kelsey expends 2 sorcery points to Misty Step to 30 feet behind Willy, with the intention of drawing his attention away from the children. They smirk darkly, raising the yellowish, triangular, and very familiar-looking shield.

"Hope you like Doritos, bitch."

Willy rubs at his head and scowls. “Fucking christ,” he spits. He draws his hands across his chest sharply, and for a few moments nothing happens.

Summon Greater Demon.

A portal of golden flame appears, and one Lark Foster pokes his head out, frowning. “Seriously?” he mutters, stepping out fully. “I didn’t fucking want to– fine. Whatever. It’s fine. I get to make a fucking… it’s fine. I’ll be out later.”

Willy gestures to Henry. “Do what you have to.”

[Lark Foster's Turn]

“Let’s see…” Lark mutters. “I’d use acid, but that’s not– you know what? Cold’s fun. Let’s do that.” He points at Henry and casts Fireball. “Never said anything about splash damage, so…”

Fireball (1 sorcery point to change to cold damage). 8d6 cold, DC 17 Dexterity saving throw. Targets: Lark Foster, Henry, Willy Stampler.

Willy saves and takes 13 cold damage.

Henry fails , taking 33 damage.

Lark blinks, and then shakes himself. “Oh. Glad that’s over.”

29 > 24 Charisma saving throw.

[!!!]

Lark Foster takes no damage.

He frowns. “What the fuck?” he says, to nobody.

[Junior's Turn]

Sighing in relief to see the cavalry had arrived, Junior starts to… cry? No, Junior’s gonna get angry. That’s my secret, Cap, I’m always angry…

Action: Attack. Firebolt. ( 14 to hit, misses. )

Bonus Action: Spends 2 sorcery points to attack. Firebolt. ( 11 + 8 = 19, hit. 15 damage.)

The redhead grinned as, while the first bolt of flames streaked past Willy, the second blasted into him solidly.

Round 3 TLDR: Willy cast an area of effect spell that instantly killed Hen. Henry (still a bear) tried to tear out Willy’s throat. Birdie hid. Psi and Lark Foster joined the fight. Junior was Junior.

ROUND 4:

[Willy's Turn]

Willy glances over at Junior and then looks over to Psi, looking between everyone to decide who to target. He smirks again as an idea hits him– he steps forward, and with a loud crash of thunder, is near where Birdie is.

Thunderstep - Each creature within 10ft of space you left takes 3d10 thunder damage. Con save (DC 24) for ½ damage.

Henry fails, taking 19 damage.

Glenn fails (# nat one!!), taking 25 damage. He is in death saves <3

[Henry's Turn]

Henry in a pure panic rushes at Willy, shifting out of wildshape and throwing himself between Willy and Birdie, panting with exertion, bloodied.

“Stay the fuck away from my daughter.”

Sprint action; Healing word 9d4+5 returned health on Glenn

Glenn is no longer in death saves and is stabilized.

[Birdie's Turn]

Birdie grabs the ring off the ground, then runs using her full movement and dash to get 75 feet away from Willy and continuing to kind of circle the area where combat had previously been happening.

Willy rolls his eyes as Birdie flees. That’s fine, but he thought she might have wanted to watch this part. He points at Henry and whispers, “Power Word Kill.”

Power Word Kill - Kills creature with <= 100 HP.

Henry’s eyes widen and realizing he has less than seconds left he uses the mental connection to say,

“I’m sorry Birdie, I love you, tell your mom I love her too.”

Tragically all Henry gets as a return on the mental link is just screaming…also probably audible screaming…there’s just a lot of screaming going on here.

Henry drops to the ground.

[Psi’s Turn]

Watching Henry fall to the ground, Psi’s jaw tightens. They narrow their gaze on Willy and lift their free, non-dorito-shield wielding hand. They allow the rage to flow through them freely, and a bright, red-hot energy begins to radiate off from them. A sudden spectral light illuminates the wasteland, capturing Willy’s form in an instant.

Sunburst. Con Save 19. 39 Radiant damage if fail (+ Blindness for 1 minute), 18 Radiant damage if succeed.

They aren’t done yet, and as the fires of hell burn red hot within them, Psi speaks the spell’s name with all the ire in their bones.

Fireball, 2 SP spent to cast as bonus action. ( Let me know if I missed something and someone is nearby. ) Dex Save 19. 49 damage if fail, 24 damage if succeed.

“Picking on little kids, old man?” Psi calls out, stalking toward Willy ( 10 ft movement ) “That’s disappointing. And after I spent so long waiting for this fight.” They crack their neck, and although they grin, revealing a sharp set of demonic fangs, there is no joy in their eyes: only fury.

13 < 19

28 > 19

Willy winces as the flash of light encompasses him, pressing a hand against his eyes. “Motherfucker,” he spits. He very much wishes he had another use of Power Word Kill right about now.

Despite being blinded, he manages to sidestep most of the fireball blast.

[Lark Foster’s Turn]

Lark, who looks like he was preparing to fight Willy, decides that Psi has that handled actually. He opens a portal next to Birdie and tries his best to keep up with her. “Do- do you want to go? Because I can get you the fuck out of dodge. If you want.”

[Junior's Turn]

Junior can’t pass up the opportunity to try getting in an attack on Willy, so they mimicked their elder self for a moment and cast Firebolt.

Firebolt. To Hit (advantage due to Willy’s Blindness) Roll 1: 12. Roll 2: 16.

The bolt narrowly misses, and Junior curses.

Seeing Lark approach Birdie, Junior narrows their eyes at him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Get away from her!" They start to run toward Lark and Birdie, preparing to chase Lark away if necessary.

Round 4 TLDR: Glenn got put into death saves by Willy, but Henry healed him. Birdie started to run away. Willy used a legendary action to cast Power Word Kill on Henry, killing him instantly. Psi attacked Willy and managed to blind him. Lark started trying to get Birdie to leave the battlefield with him.

Round 5:

[Willy’s Turn]

Willy grits his teeth and jabs a finger in Psi’s general direction, cursing under his breath.

Finger of Death - 7d8 + 30 necrotic damage. Constitution saving throw for ½. DC 24. Humanoid killed rises as zombie next turn.

Psi feels a wave of negative energy wash over her. Gritting their teeth, they power through the attack and shake it off by remembering the people they care about. Some of whom may die today if they can’t keep their shit together.

Con Save: Natural 20 + 10 = 30. 15 damage taken.

“Oh no, my feelings!” they shout sarcastically.

Hey Willy, get ready to make a Dex save. Slore. DC 19

26 > 19, saves.

Psi raises her middle finger at Willy to cast Hellish Rebuke as a reaction, at the 3rd Level.

3d10 is the original damage, halved by the save. 19 rolled, 9 damage taken.

Finally aware of the gravity of the situation, Glenn does the only thing he can think of: protect Henry’s kid. (Definitely not thinking of Henry and Henry alone, no!) He raises his hands towards Birdie, and a shimmering field surrounds her.

[Birdie’s Turn]

Birdie pivots, completely disregarding Lark and begins sprinting back towards her dad. Whether she’s ignoring him intentionally or she just can’t hear him over her screaming is hard to say. As she gets within 60 ft of Willy, she throws a psychic blade more out of panic than any conscious choice.

Attack roll: 13 (it misses but not like…as embarrassingly as it would have been if it was a 7 also crying can mess with your aim)

She dashes to Henry’s side and collapses on the ground next to him screaming and begging for any kind of response or reaction, but of course none of that happens.

[Psi’s Turn]

They take a steadying breath and stay focused. Hearing Birdie’s anguished crying is absolutely heart-wrenching, but they have to keep Willy from turning his attention back to the kids.

Just as when Junior attempted to cast the Slow spell, the sound of a clock ticking begins to surround the fucking old man. This time, however, it was more pronounced, each tick ringing clear as a bell.

Slow: Wisdom Save DC 19

Then, expending 2 sorcery points to make their next spell casting time a bonus action, Psi casts… Firebolt.

To hit: ( 9 + 11 = 20 ) , ( 16 + 11 = 27 )

Damage Taken: 17 (spent 1 sorcery point to reroll damage)

“What’s wrong, Willy?” They call out tauntingly, trying to keep his attention away from the kids and Henry. “Are you too used to fighting people weaker than you? Letting yourself go soft, just like your dick?”

Willy, despite being unable to see, rolls his eyes and gestures vaguely in Psi’s direction. “Hey, you know what they say. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Finger of Death + Heightened Spell - Finger of Death - 7d8 + 30 necrotic damage. Constitution saving throw for ½. DC 24. Humanoid killed rises as zombie next turn. + Spend 3 sorcery points to give one target disadvantage on its first saving roll to resist the spell.

Well, fuck. Psi flinches as the same negative energy from before batters his mind.

12 with disadvantage, other roll was a dirty 20. 72 damage taken.

“Ack!” He stumbles, clutching his head as an unbearably sharp pain runs through his skull as if it were lightning. The attack leaves Psi looking rattled, a cold sweat forming as he forces himself to stay standing. “Heh. You really do play dirty.”

[Lark’s Turn]

“Hey, what the fuck?” Lark turns to chase after Birdie as his eyes start to glow and fire appears in bursts as he keeps running.

Bonus action: Mantle of Flame.

He sighs and points in Birdie’s general direction as she runs. “D– I don’t want to kill you, can you stop running?”

(16 + 5 [Mantle of Flame bonus] to hit) Chaos Bolt (casting at level 2) - Bolt shoots target for 2d8 + 2d6 damage. Roll 1d8 twice for damage type. Spending sorcery point to ensure it’s fire damage.

Birdie takes 13 damage (is she screaming in physical or emotional pain? Probably both)

[Junior’s Turn]

“Shit! Birdie– leave her ALONE!”

Junior, panicking but not wanting to do major damage, casts a hasty Firebolt at Lark.

Rolled a 14 to hit. Does 4 damage.

They keep running, trying to catch up with Lark and Birdie.

Round 5 TLDR: Psi distracted Willy while Birdie ran over to Henry.

Round 6:

[Willy’s Turn]

Willy rolls his eyes again and makes a broad flicking motion with one of his hands. “We have fun around here,” he mutters. “Parry this, you shitty fucking… trickster deity.”

Synaptic Static + Twinned Spell - Creatures INT 3+ take 8d6 psychic damage (INT save for ½.) On failed save, target has muddled thoughts for 1 minute, subtracting 1d6 from ability/attack rolls and CON saves for concentration. Target can make another INT save at the end of their turn.

Targets: Lark Foster + Psi, DC 24

Lark, with all the force of a Natural One slamming into him, pauses dead in his tracks, yelps, and clutches at his head. He… ugh, what the fuck was he thinking about…?

[!!!]

Lark Foster takes no damage. Psi takes half.

Psi’s head begins to swim with the echoes of past memories, and they take 16 damage. They look around in confusion, struggling to separate reality from what they recalled of fights before. Living this long can really take a toll on a mind, even one that is no longer mortal.

They tilt their head, with the briefest notion in their mind that something was not right about what just happened, but their cloudy mind loses the thought a moment later.

“SHIT!” Glenn yells, running using his 30ft of movement + 30 feet of dash action to reach Henry. “Uh...shit. Look, eh...I can help, I just need you to...stop crying. Please?” (Rolling a 2 for persuasion, making a total of 9)

[Birdie’s Turn]

Birdie slips the ring on her finger, worried that she’ll drop it if she doesn’t, (under normal circumstances she might question the wisdom of putting on a rogue and clearly magical piece of jewelry, but she trusts Kels, they’re friendship bracelet buddies, after all) and buries her face into her dad’s shirt. “Dad…we…we have to go home to mom…I can’t…I can’t go home without you.” She is sobbing. Everyone had told her this would all work out and everyone would be okay, but just as she suspected, everyone had been lying.

[Psi’s Turn]

Action: Fireball. Dex DC 19 Save. ( 30 dmg rolled, half taken on successful save ) Aimed not directly at Willy, but about 10 feet away from him, between him and Psi.

Psi has a -1 to Int Saving throws, and cannot possibly make the DC 24 save to end their Muddle Thoughts.

Psi hears the words, “You’re testing my patience,” in their head and the muddled thoughts end.

“What the fuck was that? Navi, that you? Hey- Listen-”

[!!!]

In the instance that Psi [not Psi, they're at a distance], Birdie or Lark Foster were to receive damage from the fireball they simply do not. Problem solved.

Birdie feels the heat of the fireball washing over where she’s curled up next to her father, but finds that, unlike before with the attack from Lark, it doesn’t hurt. She’d probably have questions if she weren’t so goshdarn sad.

Glenn, however, rolls a nat 20 (24 total) to dodge the fireball with a lot of expletives yelled in Psi’s direction.

[Lark’s Turn]

Lark, still feeling the adverse effects of a fucking Natural One, keeps one hand on his head as he shakily opens a portal and casts a spell.

Lightning Lure - Target is pulled 10’ in a straight line towards you, then takes 1d8 lightning dmg if it’s within 5’ of you (STR save negates.) DC 17, targeting Birdie.

Birdie does not save.(6) She is yanked in Lark’s direction and takes 5 damage.

[Junior’s Turn]

Catching up to Lark, Junior sees him attacking Birdie and growls angrily.

Unarmed Strike, 14 to hit. 3 bludgeoning damage.

They punch him. That’s all. Back to the top of initiati-

Top of the initiative order? I think not. Someone wants to make two turns in a row. Willy, still blinded, jabs a finger in Psi’s direction once more. You know the drill, I think.

Finger of Death - 7d8 + 30 necrotic damage. Constitution saving throw for ½. DC 24. Humanoid killed rises as a zombie next turn. Target: Psi

Psi gets an 18, takes 66 damage.

Psi coughs, covering their mouth, but not before a spatter of red can be seen. They stumble… and fall forward. They don't get up.

Round 6 TLDR: Willy attacked Lark and Psi, giving them the Muddled Thoughts status effect. A strange voice spoke to Psi and freed them from the Muddled Thoughts, as well as protected Birdie from a Fireball’s splash damage. Willy used a legendary action to take an extra turn and attack Psi, knocking them out.

Round 7:

[ Willy’s Turn ]

Willy tosses a fireball in Psi’s direction too, just for fun. He has better things to do, really, but hey! A little fire never burned anyone.

Oh, wait.

Fireball (level 6) - Creatures take 8d6 + 3d6 fire damage. Con save for ½. DC 24.

Psi's Con Save: 22. Rolled 41. Halved for fire resistance. 20 dmg taken.

Nothing has gone right for Glenn. That poor kid Hen is dead. The man he was supposed to protect is dead. His child is there, for fucks sake! And that witch is hurt, too. Willy thinks he can just leave without a fight, he’s got another thing coming!

“Hey, asshole—HOLD IT!”

Fireball - 3rd Level — DEX 15 save at Willy (otherwise rolled 25 damage)

[11 + 13 = 24 > 15.]

Willy snorts as the fireball blasts him, but otherwise ignores Glenn. “Toodles,” he mutters, before finally casting Plane Shift, and…

…well, he’s… gone.

[ Birdie’s Turn ]

Birdie can’t focus on anything besides getting back to her dad…running back to his side as soon as the pull of the lightning lets up. She pulls off her backpack and starts digging through it, knowing there’s nothing in there that can help, but hoping that maybe she overlooked something.

[ Lark’s Turn ]

Oh my fucking god nobody is listening to him. Okay. He’s— no! He’s— he’s fine. He is great. Wonderful, even. He marches over to Birdie and tries to drag both her and her dad’s corpse (don’t think about that too hard, you can have a drink later) through the still-open portal.

16 - 1 = 15 strength opposed. Birdie opposes with a 19 dexterity.

[!!!]

Well steps out of a portal sighing and hefting Psi up onto his shoulder.

“Hello Lark. You fought well.”

Lark, for a brief moment, looks fucking livid, but it passes. “Hello, Father.”

[ Junior’s Turn ]

Junior, seeing that Birdie has no desire to follow Lark to Wherever The Fuck that portal leads, attempts to cast a spell on him and shove him away.

Reduce, cast as Bonus Action using Sorcery Points. Con Save DC 16

8 + 2 = 10 Pushing him away, Strength opposed. (If Reduced then make it at disadvantage)

The spell fails, and Lark shoves Junior away from him. They trip backward and land in the dirt.

Well frowns. “The fight is over Time Witch.”

Junior glares over at him and seems torn between trying to confront Well or defending Birdie and Henry's body from Lark.

Round 7 TLDR: Glenn attacked Willy with Fireball, but Willy planeshifted away from the battle. Well Actually appeared, apparently having been observing the battle from a distance.

After the Battle:

Yeah, Birdie overlooked something: this old guy who’s trying REALLY hard not to panic. Be proud of him, he’s done literally nothing this entire fight. He’s breathing heavily with honestly a pathetic attempt to keep his composure when his eyes are glistening with tears. Seeing Lark attempt to move Henry, Glenn unsheathes the Jaded Greatsword from its hilt and rushes at him. Shit, shit, shit, this has to work please let it work—

Wait, how does this work? And drives the sword through Henry’s heart. (Casting Revify instead of dealing damage.) Because obviously the heart = life, right? Except now there’s a LOT of blood pouring out of him.

“What? What the fuck are you doing? What the fuck are you doing?” Birdie looks over while holding a small box of bandaids.

Birdie takes 2 psychic damage.

Henry, who’s been previously unmoving, gasps. It takes a few seconds but slowly he opens his eyes, no longer laying limply in Glenn’s arms. He looks slightly out of it but alive. Undeniably alive.

“I thought I was a goner” he coughs out a laugh. “Thought in Disney movies it was a kiss, not a sword?” He gives Glenn an incredibly fond lopsided smile.

“Oh, shut up,” Glenn whispers, a smile forming in his expression. He gingerly hugs him, pressing his forehead against Henry’s. Definitely crying.

Junior gapes at the fact that someone just got brought back to life by getting stabbed for a second, then stands up and turns toward Well Actually, who has Psi slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" The red-haired teen spits viciously at him. "Put them down."

“No.” Well raises an eyebrow but makes no other indication that he gives any care whatsoever to what the teenager version of the time witch has to say. He turns part of his attention back to the mess of the battlefield, thinking for a moment before walking up to Birdie and awkwardly patting her on the head, healing her at the 8th level, easily replenishing her full health.

“You and your friends were not supposed to be here.”

Birdie is almost disoriented by being back to full health, as though not having any damage is almost unnerving after everything that happened, and her dad…he’s talking? And…how can it feel like everything’s changed while also being the same. But she looks up at Well. “I’m not sorry.”

Junior takes out their nunchucks and stares at Well.

Well gives Junior an incredibly bored look.

“Please refrain. I do not want to hurt you.”

He continues to look at the battlefield, attention turning to Lark instead.

“Do you want to be healed?” He smiles softly at Lark.

“…no.” He glances back at his portal, which is… still open! How long’s that been there? Weird. He starts to inch towards it. “I think… I think I’m going to… go.”

"Then get out of here already," Junior mutters, glancing at Lark. They don't like the creepy guy holding the older version of them. "Are you a kidnapper or some shit?" They ask Well.

“Okay, Lark.” he turns attention back to Junior “Oh. You do not yet have the memories. I am a friend. And…”

He frowns at the battlefield again. “I am done here. Goodbye.” Well opens a portal for himself and the time witch he is carrying and disappears through it, closing it as soon as he does.

"Hey, sto-" Junior doesn't get to finish yelling at Well before he disappears. They blank for a second and seem to prepare to scream some kind of obscenities, but stop when Psi steps in front of them. They're rubbing one of their eyes, slightly disoriented but unharmed. "What the fuck was that about?" Junior demands. Psi just shakes his head at them.

"Spoilers," they chide softly, and walk past them to check on Glenn and Henry.

Glenn glances around, now that everything is sort of...okay? Now? “Uh, what do we do with the sword?” he asks, mostly mumbling to himself.

“I’m kinda hoping you’re gonna take the sword out of me so I can heal myself” he chuckles and coughs a bit reaching up to put a hand on Glenn’s shoulder.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have to do that, just, uh—” Glenn readjusts himself to tug on this sword, releasing it from Henry’s chest with an ugly squish. He cringes a little before doing what good paladins do and squeezing Henry’s hand, casting Cure Wounds at a 5th level for 31 points of healing.

Henry smiles and pulls him down so he can kiss his cheek. “Thanks Glenn… you saved me, you weren’t kidding about being my knight in shining armor.”

Psi approaches the two from behind Glenn and looks Henry over. They glance at the sword and raise their eyebrows, impressed with the resourcefulness of these two.

“Glad to see you two again,” they say with a faint smile.

Henry seems to have a hard time pulling his attention from Glenn, but he does, having an even harder time placing Psi. “Uh I don’t think I- Hail and well met friend?” He sits up a bit, trying to remember exactly what happened in the fight before he died. The moment it starts to come back though he’s scrambling to his feet “Is Birdie okay?!”

Birdie is still just sitting on the ground, holding a box of bandaids and looking really out of it, but unhurt.

Henry rushes over to her side as fast as he can, checking her over, relieved “oh- Oh God you’re okay- Birdie- I’m so sorry-“ he isn’t even sure how to formulate the multiple questions and apologies he wants to so he settles on just pulling Birdie into a hug. “Oh god you’re okay…”

Birdie wiggles a little in his embrace and it’s a bit difficult to tell if this is her attempt to get away or not, but then he feels a band aid being pressed across the bridge of his nose. (the band-aid is super cute btw).

Still being fairly roughed up and having less than a quarter of his usual health, it takes him a moment to process what’s happening, smiling softly when he does. “I’m okay Birdie… we’re okay…It’s going to be okay”

Birdie doesn’t say anything in response, but her expression calls bullshit.

Glenn doesn’t want to talk to Birdie because he is certain he will make things worse. He doesn’t know her, she doesn’t know him, he stabbed her dad...it just wouldn’t work out. Instead, he glances up at Psi. “Uh. You good?”

Psi looks down at Glenn with a faint chuckle and offers a hand to help him up. “Yeah, I’m good. How ya doin’, ‘old man’,” they say, although there seems to be an affectionate tone laced under the words.

He takes their hand, using them to hoist himself up. “Nothin’ Advil won’t fix,” he chuckles. “Glad to see you made it out of there. Who was that guy that healed you?”

Psi leans back to give Glenn a little more leverage, and steps back after he’s to his feet.

“That was Well Actually… You only met him briefly in your time, before you were imprisoned. He’s-” Psi frowns, thinking. “He’s usually someone who plays by the rules, but the way he helped out was a little… odd.”

Glenn looks surprised. “Really? Huh, can’t remember. I mean, at least he...helped?”

“Yeah,” Psi agrees half-heartedly, staring into the middle distance for a moment.

“But he doesn’t have any stake in what we do, right?” he asks, vaguely gesturing to the empty-ish battlefield. “So what’s he doing saving you?”

“I’m not really sure,” Psi admits, shaking his head. “He says he wants to be friends, but I thi-” And they stop, because Junior has started shouting at Henry. Without finishing their sentence, they take a step and vanish.

Meanwhile, Junior has been checking on what appears to be the body of Hen. They’re leaning over him, hand shaking while holding a healing potion. [ 18 on perception :( ] They stare down at him, not sure why he’s that still. They’re trying to prop him up to use the potion, ignoring the way his body is unnaturally cold.

“C-c’mon, idiot,” they mutter. “You gotta- gotta drink the potion.” They pour the blue liquid unsteadily into Hen’s mouth, but it flows out too easily. He doesn’t sputter or even stir at the unfamiliar sensation. “Hen, come on. Hen. Hen!” The bottle is empty, and Junior drops it to the ground, where the bottom caves in with a crack. They grab Hen’s shoulders and begin to shake him. In their voice, a breathy panic begins to creep in as they start to shout. “Hen! HEN! WAKE UP! WAKE THE FUCK UP!” They gasp for air, fighting not to break down as the lack of response tells them everything. Junior can’t accept the obvious reality. Breathing faster, their fingers dig into Hen’s shoulders. They try to shout again, but their throat is dry and tight, and all they can do is gasp for air. No, this isn’t how it should have fucking gone. The next sound to leave their lips is a broken sob.

Birdie hears Junior shouting and glances over her dad’s shoulder. “Dad…Dad, something’s wrong.”

“S-shi- shoot- okay- uh let me go help okay?” He pulls back from the hug and stands again, Birdie taking his hand as he moves to Junior’s side “hey- can I see? Maybe- maybe I can help?” He carefully puts a hand on Junior’s shoulder. “Try and not look okay? Focus on me for a second- uh-“

“Don’t FUCKING TOUCH me!” Junior snaps at Henry, tear-filled glare rising to burn at him. “This is YOUR fault! If you weren’t trying to go after that fucking guy, Hen and Birdie wouldn’t have wanted to follow you!”

Henry pulls his hand away quickly, before he can even apologize Junior is shouting and it’s honestly echoing a fear he’d been trying to ignore since seeing Birdie behind the rock at the start of the fight.

“Junior.” Psi appears behind Junior, unceremoniously pulling the younger witch to their feet by the back of their denim jacket. [ 23 Perception ] Psi looks at Junior, a few emotions flitting across his face, before he turns them around. “Come over here. He’s not going to hurt Hen, I promise.” To Junior’s chagrin, Psi’s superior strength doesn’t leave them much choice as they are forced to make space for Henry to examine Hen’s body.

Henry, frowning and trying to push away the thought that he definitely was at fault for this, leans over Hen, checking him over and casting cure wounds- but it has no effect. He takes a moment and checks him over again, pausing as he looks at his face. “Fuck.”

Birdie gives his hand a small squeeze in response to his cursing, she doesn’t really feel like talking, but wants him to explain what’s happening, she’s gathered that Hen is dead. Willy was able to take her father out with a single word, that’s not a surprise at this point. But she doesn’t know how to think about it or how to feel, all of those resources were used up in the fight, and she just feels sort of empty.

“He isn’t- he isn’t here. I-“ he takes a deep breath. “He’s back in Oakvale.” He looks to Glenn “he was a homunculus- he’s got the same mark that-“ he slowly stands. “We… we should go back right? We should- we should get him out-“

“No!” Birdie is still on the ground next to Hen. She’s gingerly removing his friendship bracelet and putting it on her wrist next to her own. “You’re not going anywhere.” She puts as much authority into her voice as she can, but it’s not particularly impressive, and actually wobbles a little bit.

Persuasion 12

Dc 10, pass

Henry’s eyes widen and he turns to look at Birdie. “I- okay- I’m sorry… I won’t go anywhere…” he pulls her back into a hug.

Birdie tries to start sorting through her emotions, but they’re still just too tangled. Plus she’s a little scared that once she starts pulling on that thread, everything will just fall apart. Relief, however, that emotion feels safe. So she just rests in the hug and tries to believe Henry.

Glenn casts Message — target: Henry. “Don’t worry, I’ll go burn down Oakvale. ;)”

Henry replies mentally: “Thank you Glenn… I- I really appreciate it” it sounds like he wanted to say something else but chickened out.

Junior turns to look at Psi.

“We’re gonna go get Hen, right?” they ask pleadingly, eyes still wet. Unswayed, Psi shakes their head and reaches into the small bag at their hip. [ Trigger warning for needles and syringes. ]

“No,” they say, and pull out a small syringe. “Turn around and lift your hair out of the way.”

Junior starts to pull away from Psi, frowning at him.

“What? No, we have to get Hen and I need to remember what happened so it doesn’t happen again.”

“You know the rules, Junior.” Psi sounds tired, but attempts to be gentle. “It’ll be alright. We’ll make a note.” Junior makes a resentful grunt and turns away, but does move their hair aside. Psi carefully uses the magical item to remove Junior’s memory of the fight. They place the memory into a vial, where it swirls as a cloudy silver liquid.

Junior blinks dazedly after the fact.

“Psi? Uh… oh.” They look around, then pull out their notebook. Psi takes it and flips to a new page to write a note. “Oh, hey- the Little one is at Birdie’s house,” Junior says suddenly. Psi nods, and hands back the notebook.

“I’ll get her after helping these guys get back. I suggest doing page twelve next,” Psi says, patting Junior on the shoulder. The red-haired witch nods, and opens to that page in their notepad. They take a step, and disappear, leaving Psi holding the vial of liquid memory and frowning.

Henry picks Birdie up. “Let’s go home okay?” He holds a hand out to Glenn. “Ready Glenn?”

“We can’t just leave him,” Birdie whispers.

Glenn takes it. “Yeah, just...I dunno, is a funeral appropriate? For the, uh...body. He’s alive.”

“It’s not him… he’s- he’s fine- it’s just clay and magic…” Henry looks tense, squeezing Glenn’s hand. “He’s back in Oakvale Birdie- he’s alive…”

Birdie starts shaking, it’s just hitting her that this whole time Hen had a back up and Junior had multiple versions of themself that could come to the rescue, but she’s just Birdie. She hadn’t had a plan or…or spells…or… instead of thinking about it too hard, she rests her head in the crook of Henry’s neck and tries to feel his pulse with her forehead.

Psi pockets the vial and walks over to Hen's body, scooping it off from the ground. They straighten and turn to look at Henry.

"I hope you don't mind if I tag along. There's something I need to do at your house."

“That’s- you’re on our side, right? It should be fine?” He sighs and casts Tree stride on one of the only remaining trees in the area, stepping through with Birdie and Glenn in tow.

Psi doesn't answer verbally. They glance once over their shoulder, then take a step and leave the empty battlefield.

After the Battle TLDR: Glenn revived Henry using a magical artifact. Well Actually healed Psi. Hen was revealed to have been a homunculus the entire time, and his real body is still in his Oakvale.

- - - End of Battle - - -

Battle TLDR: The good guys got thoroughly trashed. Willy trapped Glenn in a Mental Prison right off the bat, then proceeded to kill both Henry and Hen. Psi and Lark showed up part way through the fight, Psi having been brought by Junior and Lark having been summoned by Willy. After Willy left the battlefield, Glenn revived Henry using a magical sword. Hen was not revived, and Henry pointed out that he was a homunculus all along. Well Actually revealed himself and healed some of the survivors. Lark, Well, and Junior each left separately. Henry, Birdie, Glenn, and Psi returned to the Oak-Garcia house.

Battle Participants:

Willy @fisherman-with-a-plan

Henry @henry-is-o-a-k

Glenn @too-cool-4-meth-bay

Hen @princehen

Birdie @justalittlebirde

Lark @lark-foster

Junior and Psi @blog-of-a-time-witch

Well Actually @well-actually-youre-wrong

Thank you for reading. =)

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