Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius gestured towards the injured man, "He belongs to an allied guild, Letalis Serpentis."

"Lethal serpent!" Quay exclaimed, "I LIKE IT!!"

"Redundant," Gobsuke commented.

Dragan chuckled, "What a stupid name-- who thought of that?"

"I did," Tycon glared.

"Ahaha HAHAHA!!" The crimson-haired Titanblood guffawed, holding his sides, "Y'can't dock my pay if I'm not REAL, BOSS!!!"

"Actually..." Tycon smirked, "Yes, yes I can."

"W-wait!" Dragan held his hands out, "That's not fair!! The other-me is a righteous guy that's always on his best behavior!!"

The members of Sol Invictus stared at the half-giant with doubt in their eyes.

"Aha... alright," Dragan chuckled. "Maybe he doesn't. But come on-- it was funny? Guys?"

Tycon walked over to the wounded man's side and lifted his visor, to inspect the man's wounds... they were recent, but the cuts were deep. He would not survive without supernatural assistance.

⟬ Raphael, Bronze-Rank Human Bravo. Guild Letalis. ⟭

It seemed he had been transported to the Shadow Realm along with the rest of the Brazen Guard. That he was alive was a boon.

Bravo Raphael looked to Tycon with shaky, unfocused eyes, "M-monsieur le Baron... is... izzat you?"

"Mister Raphael..." Tycon started... he had a few questions for the young man... but what to start with first? Ah.

"Do you still have the potion bottle I gave you?"

"S-sir Baron... I... I don't have much time... I..."

"The bottle," Tycon insisted.

"The Stormbrands... they..."

Tycon narrowed his eyes.

Raphael hesitated... lifting a weak hand to fumble at one of his side pouches, "It's... it is here... But ze contents are..."

"That's fine," Tycon nodded. "I was just checking. Refined glass is very expensive."

"The Stormbrands... they... hrrk..." Raphael winced in pain. He was applying pressure to his bleeding side, "Zhey... released something... that... arghh..."

"Oh, come on..." Tycon rolled his eyes, "Just that injury? Is this the best you have to offer Guild Letalis?"

⟬ ⌈Inspirational Surge⌋ conditions met. Activate? Y/N? ⟭

« Go ahead. »

⟬ Activating. ⟭

Slowly, Raphael's eyes regained their focus... "Oh."

"Mister Raphael, report," Tycon ordered.

Raphael placed his hands about his body, feeling the magic take hold. The bleeding had stopped and his wounds were knitting closed... "Ah... haha... The... the Stormbrands, Monsieur le Baron, they have--"

Tycon rolled his eyes, standing up and crossing his arms.

Dragan sniggered right behind him, "Is this how soldiers of the Magic Kingdom report to their superiors? Sitting on their snail-sucking arses?"

The Bravo acrobatically leapt to his feet, "Sir, non! No, Sir! ...M-monsieur Dragan?"

"Sup?" The Titanblood grinned.

Tycon raised his voice, "Raphael of Cannes!"

"Ah, my apologies, messieurs," The man inclined his head politely and saluted with his fist to his chest. "Tancred and his goons have recovered a snake artifact that they call the Spinal Reaper... With it, they have released the soul of a Snake Cult champion known as Orcus... the Oathbreaker."

Tycon returned the salute and took a deep breath. This was known to him...

However... that Tancred had recovered what they'd sought from the Halls of the Dead Serpent implicated yet another faction.

"So this entire mission was a front for Guild Stormbrand recovering a heretical artifact."

"You said you're on this quest because of those Brazen Guard chumps?" Zuko mused. "Looks like they didn't check their sources for credibility."

Tycon clenched his fists, trembling in mounting fury... "The quest was issued by the city of Caeruleum... and they've played me for a gods... damned... fool."

"OhohooOoOo..." Dragan chuckled, "Boss is pissed... Only interestin' things happen when Boss is pissed."

Quay nodded, placing a bandaged hand of reassurance on Tycon's shoulder, "We're with you, Tycon. Wherever you need us, just give us the word."

"Right, we got your back, Boss! AhHahHA!" Dragan laughed heartily.

"...It won't be boring, that's for sure," Zuko turned away.

"As long as I get paid and my very mundane wives are doing well, I have no complaints," Gobsuke nodded.

Tycon shut his eyes, letting his anger seep away.

In the real... he didn't have any of them.

"Also, can I get that heal you promised me?" Quay smiled sheepishly. "Wh-what if it gets infected?"

He promised no such thing.

...

Barza Keith, the Lone Shadowdark, jammed the barrel of his pistol down the throat of a half-naked muscular man.

...Not that the guy was anything special. Lone was far more toned! ...The other guy did have bigger thighs than he did, though. But leg day was stupid! The cultist was not just wrong-- he was stupid, too!

Lone pulled the trigger, hearing the satisfying... click?

He had forgotten to reload his pistol.

"Seven hells," Lone smashed his forehead into the cultist's nose.

Thankfully, his wolf, Tres Leches bit and tore into the man's belly, growling and pulling out some of his entrails.

"Good boy," Lone grinned, holstering his weapon. "Or girl? I haven't decided yet."

Did his summoned wolf have a gender? If he couldn't tell, was it politically correct to decide it on his own? He didn't want to offend anyone and get into a stupid argument.

"Hey, Karodin," Lone turned to the Legionnaire fighting beside him. "Ever seen a wolf weiner?"

"I haven't," Karodin slammed his shield into a dual-axe wielding cultist, leaping forward and stabbing down into their chest to finish them off. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," Lone lied.

"FELLAS!!" Priestess Ariadne scolded, "Could y'all quit your piddlin' and focus, please? Bannok's fightin' tooth 'an nail up in the front, while y'all are discussin' doggy dick."

Lone grimaced, feeling a bit guilty about it.

The Brazen Guard collective was fighting their way through a city. Every street they walked on had enemies swarming at them. At first, it was just crazy screaming cultists wearing warpaint and wielding weapons covered in rust or made from bone... Then it was armored adventurers and... and 'normal' people with butcher knives and clubs and... just whatever.

They all had the same weird, glazed-over look in their eyes. But no matter who they were, they were definitely enemies. It felt like they'd killed over a hundred heretics in less than a bell.

...but there were always more.