“This is bullshit.” Fleur lies in her sleeping bag, staring at the roof of the cotton tent. The soothing hum of the gems aren’t much comfort to her as she replays the scene of Sage constantly in her mind. “I could have won that.” Lying to herself only proves to anger herself even more so, with her adjusting her sleeping bag to toss out a frustrated wing out. “Fucking bullshit. We better be paid.” Fleur looks over at her sleeping party members, Dave between the two and Maribelle having the coveted corner spot. Her wing falls to her side with a dull plap. The next few minutes of her tossing about, trying to sleep ends when Dave shifts in his sleep, outstretching his hand.
It's a complete coincidence he grabs her breast, hand firmly cupping through the thin fabric. “Uhh, Dave?” She watches him for any proof he's awake, genuinely unsure how to react. “That's my boob.” She tries to grip onto his arm with her wings, just to struggle to move him. His hand comes off her, and she shifts away from him. “Really haven’t been laid since Sakura, huh?” She adjusts to face the roof again, using her wings to gently bounce her breasts. “Maybe someday.” Her mind goes to the idea of her and Dave breeding, just for her to slap her cheeks with her wings, admonishing herself. “Damn it, I’m a mercenary first, woman second.”
“Although it would be nice to get some action soon.” She knows she's in for a sleepless night.
The town of Silverfield extends to the horizon on foot and talon, a large stone and thatched roof town surrounded by a river and seemingly hundreds of fields, all aglow with golden grain. Wheat sways to the calm and cool breeze, a fitting backdrop to the varying harpies flying over. The three walk a cobbled road, watching the town prepping for harvest. Two idly jab iron spears at a small group of scaled reptilian naked women, who occasionally jab back with daggers, clearly out of range. Fleur chuckles as the kobolds are nonchalantly brushed off by the guards, who take joy in not having to do anything strenuous but repel the six kobolds. Harpies fish with rods and spears at the river’s edge, casually chatting as they put their spoils into a bucket.
Fleur looks to Dave, whose eyes are locked on the harpies swatting the kobolds away, and she narrows her eyes. Dark blue eyes meet amber as he realises she’s looking at him. He sheepishly smiles. “Kobolds might be able to teach me, remember?”
“Later, not now. We have more important things.” She gestures to the main plaza, plenty of harpies mulling about, with a large group watching over them. “Sage is next to Breeze. The wanker with the sunplate cuirass and chainmail skirt. It's really weird to see an armoured harpy, but to the queen’s royal guard, it’s normal.” Dave looks over at the two harpies at the tallest elevation. Sage stands at attention, next to a harpy much taller than her. Slightly fading magenta feathers fade into a deep plum. Her ageing face glares down at those she considers inferior, face perpetually in a scowl as the much younger harpies try to ignore the glares.
Sunkissed plate armour of slight light blue adorns her torso, paired with a chainmail skirt to her thighs and loose fitting dark blue cloth trousers. On her hip lies a weapon that takes Fleur a minute to recognise as they join the crowd.
“Oh fuck that, that's a Skyborn Lantern.” From Breeze’s hip lies a metal rod holding a hanging lantern of golden metal, with a flame of silver dancing around the translucent stained glass. “It doesn’t give much stat wise, but for a level 50 [Phoenix], she really doesn’t need stats.” Her eyes go to Breeze’s blessing belt, a large emerald green oval gemstone that swirls with a red demonic energy. “That blessing looks strong as well. Probably right from the Queen’s own treasury.” A shiver goes down her spine as she sees a flicker of crimson spit out of the blessing. “I genuinely don’t think anyone alive can kill her.”
Breeze steps forward at last, everything going silent as everyone either flinches or turns to stare at her. Her presence alone demands the group’s respect or fear. She beholds the large group of over two hundred harpies. She scowls at them with a level of hatred that has stewed for decades.
“Greetings, harpies and half-breeds.” Fleur rolls her eyes, while Maribelle huffs. “Unnecessary men as well.” Breeze’s look flicks to Dave, then three other spots among the New World Harpies. Fleur tries to look over the crowd, only managing to spot a pair of wolf ears and brown hair over the girls. “I’ll cut to the chase. Homunculi in the forest, that’s your job while the harvest is being collected. Whatever you can gain from it is yours. Tonight I will send out a squad to find out what they can. Whatever remains of today is yours to do with as you see fit. Tomorrow the hunt begins. Do not get in the way of the true harpies. Be gone.”
The New World Harpies share a nervous look as Breeze turns on her heel and walks away, followed by the rest of the Old World Harpies. The atmosphere brightens considerably once she leaves, with most of the harpies looking around. A few of the natives of the village start offering tours, and one approaches Dave. The party immediately bristles at the realisation she's an Old World Harpy, around thirty five, with the oldest New World Harpy being twenty years old. darker skin meets goldenrod feathers and hair. Instead of the normal silver scute of every other harpy, hers are a shiny bronze. A sleeveless navy blue blouse with matching shorts sit comfortably on her, the fabric on her chest strains slightly against her sizable bust for a harpy. Almost reaching a D.
“Greetings.” Her accent matches the rest of the harpy continent natives, such as Breeze. “The other men are going to get their tour through me, if you wish to participate, follow me.” Her voice is professional although clearly forced as she walks into the crowd, Dave’s party looking at each other before silently agreeing and following her.
Fleur had been to Silverfield quite a few times over the years, but not even she knew of the sheer quantity of wheat fields. The Old World Harpy, called Silica, happily regaled them with stories from her twenty five years living in the town. Dave watched the fields sway in awe as the other two men walked by Silica’s side. “My friends and I decided the collapsed silver mine was a good place to play, we found a secret tunnel and discovered highwaymen used it to hide between ambushes. I was lucky to only escape with a broken back.” She points to a hill in the distance. “Nowadays it has been completely blocked off, entry is punishable with death.”
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The group shares an understanding glance amongst themselves. Nobody wants to test that.
The tour takes them past the wheat fields to a forest. “The homunculus is in there, and is said to be the home of several kobold tribes, some of which even possess rudimentary iron tools. How they have remained high in numbers is a true mystery.” Fleur doesn’t miss the somewhat nervous expression from one of the men, a man the group can only describe as insect-like, covered in an exoskeleton and having small mandibles in front of a familiar mouth clicks the chitin of said mandibles together.
“Sounds like they have a good nest.” His voice is nasally, oddly alluring to Fleur and Maribelle, but laced with nerves. “We would never build in forest, for the issue of Titan Vards.” The other men look straight up disturbed at his speech, Dave taking a step back. “This one’s name is Bugsil, and my number is worker 500420.” Dave smiles a little, clearly amused at something Fleur doesn’t get.
Night falls, a group of five harpies adorned in golden platemail wander the nearby forest. The lightweight armour doesn’t hamper them much, clearly able to fly as the group scout. Four of them are less decorated, all wielding varying tomes, currently attached to their hips. The Old World Harpies keep their focus on any movement, superior eyes honing in on anything dangerous. They surround a much more decorated harpy, silver thread covering her armour in an elaborate floral pattern. On her hip is a bearded axe, along with several smaller throwing axes.
“What is that?” One of the four points, eyes on what she can only describe as webbing. The ethereal threads are a pale white, almost translucent, but bright against the pitch black background. They walk to it, one holding her blue wing against it. “This isn’t emitting light. How does it look like it's the middle of the day?” They look to the leader, who ignores their question.
“Listen up, [Inquisitors]. We aren’t here to kill it, just get as much information as possible. Spread out.” The group nod, just for one to hiss in pain. Webbing covers part of her blue wing. She’d been too focused on the quest and lowered her wing into the webbing by accident. The webbing bounces as she tries to get her wing out of the sticky material, feathers pulling loose as tears prick at her eyes. The other [Inquisitors] nervously crowd her, some trying to help her pull her wing out of the webbing. A throwing axe cuts through thread, releasing her from her suffering. “For fuck sake. Focus on the task and don’t let,” She pauses, counting the harpies, “Where did Ava go?”
“Maybe she started to look around?” Another mumbles, backing up from the web and trying to ignore the whines of pain from the blue harpy. Finally the group spread out, nervously looking around as the webbing starts to surround them. The injured harpy takes a minute to try to calm down, nursing her damaged wing. She watches her allies leave, then look down to her wing. Several important feathers hang from the webbing, making flight near impossible. From her sitting position she starts to treat her wing using items from her void bag. Healing salves feel like fire on holes where feathers would be. The small spotting of blood stems while she tries to ignore the pain. She waits in her spot for what she believes to be around a full hour before the pain ceases entirely and she has the energy to move again.
It's far quieter than she’d like, with no sounds in the slightest. Not even the sounds of nightlife reach her attuned ears. With that she tries to remember which way everyone went, opting for going west, around the webbed areas instead of into it.
A full hour later, and nobody was in sight. Two passed, still nothing. “How am I still in this forest?” She mumbles to herself, looking around in confusion. The webbing had only gotten more invasive, coating trees root to leaf with ethereal thread. “Hey!” She yells, “Anyone here? Captain? Ava?” Her voice quietens slightly, “Karlee? Furret?” She closes her eyes and listens out for anything. A faint noise reaches her, almost like scuttling. Her ears twitch, feathery insides shifting to focus exclusively on it.
She dives to the side, something ginormous crashing into the spot she occupied. She draws her tome into her healthy wing, using her chin to open it in a practised motion. A creature of black stands in front of her on eight spindly legs, ending in a spiked point. A pale purple mist outlines it against the dark forest. A black miasma drips from its body, evaporating once it hits the ground. A bundle of deep crimson eyes watch her from what she assumes to be its head. A large abdomen twitches, sickles periodically snapping together.
The homunculus stares down at her, easily over ten feet. She grits her teeth. “Impac-” Something slams into her from the side, tossing the book from her wing and casting her to the ground. Something vaguely familiar grips her throat. She kicks out with her talons, points dragging across something hard and unforgiving before finding a joint her toes dig deep into. A humanoid scream temporarily deafens her before it rears up.”[Repel]!” The creature is launched into the air, sailing over the treetops before crashing down to Terra. She’s immediately in the sky, trying to fly away on her hurt wing. She didn’t watch it go into the sky.
“Kill me!” A barely there voice she recognises as Ava’s causes her to falter just long enough for another entity to land on her back. The breath is knocked out of her as she tries to flip herself. A mop of golden hair catches her off guard, just for two spiked legs to begin tearing at her armour. “Please kill me!” It’s almost silent despite the speaker being in her face. Her breastplate is torn from her body.
“[Repel]!” This time It’s less successful, with the creature’s back legs firmly entrenched it only lets her see the beast in its full glory. A beast with a spider’s lower half and legs, with Ava’s battered top half practically sewn onto it. “What the fuck?” She screams in genuine terror, before Ava slams down, digging both front legs into the dirt under her shoulders. It picks her up, keeping her body suspended as it walks into the treetops. She tries to fight, body burning with the holes in her shoulders. She finds herself dropped suddenly, landing on a web with her puncture holes suddenly free to bleed intensely.
The homunculus, apparently present, gets to work. She feels webbing start to cover her body. She can barely move, only managing to get a glimpse of a helmet she recognises on the head of another one like Ava. Webbing covers her vision without warning.
The sun finally rises.
