Chapter Text
“You’ll get it next time.” The firm bark of his fathers voice winds deep in his ears. It's a commanding brutish sort of sound, but not absent in love.
He settles his bat against the tousled turf and looks into the horizon. His fathers face is obscured, his hat hung low and covering all of his eyes besides the gleam of sunlight halloing his figure.
Anger beads in his chest, melting wax in a ball through the majority of his throat, a choking suffocating experience. He just wanted to be good at this. He didn't want to be yelled at by his father on the side of the pitch, he didn't want to fail.
He wasn't an angry child. Not that often. But on occasion something dark would brim up in his chest, flood his being like iced water and not let up until it was sated. Energy pulsed under the calloses of his small hands, the tough deepened purple of his skin sparkled with energy, riveting and screeching. His hands are still on the worn handle of the bat, and in just a few seconds a crackle runs through it as his hands ignite. Flames trickle from his skin like water rushing, eating up the wood.
He jumps and pushes it back, dropping it into the loose soil and sand of the play field. He tilts his gaze to his father who made his way to his side. He uses his foot to roll the bat in it until it sputters out. HIs fathers tone comes to him in a slightly warmer more even sound, as close as he could ever get to a coo.
“Don't be startled, Kid. Perfectly natural for a tiefling. Its infernal nature. Your doing great-
…”
Funny. He. I We. Me?
I can't remember what name he said.
~~~
Fort endrich seemed to gleam in the dousing pooling double mooned light of the sky as Bruitaliteam weathered the elements to meet its tall worn walls. The militant structure stood in a defiant pose against the rolling hills of the surrounding areas, its flags seemingly moving in a different step than the rest of the air as it swallowed into the scene on approach. Nattie gives herself a moment of pause, sucking a sharp breath in and turning back to face her team.
“Looks like we’ve made it back home.” She smiles at them. Her compatriots don't seem to share a lot of the same enthusiasm.
“Im just a bit nervous to go in there. We're supposed to be getting a promotion right?”
“Well that's a good thing Dug.”
“But what if only one of us gets it and then we all have to be like- under their command.”
Gunther puffs out his chest. “Then I could not stay. I made a deal with my deity. I cannot break it.”
Tolv lets out a low whistle. “Nobody needs to get all worried or start going off on their own. We just need to see what the happenings are at the fort. No sudden movements are needed.”
Nattie nods. “Tolvs right. Now lets get a move on, there are places to be people.”
Brutaliteam continued down the terrain in the surrounding area until coming to the portcullis to enter. The next hour or so passes full of events - there's a long winded speech from the commander and a rank up for- luckily, everyone in the party. Soon enough Nattie and her friends are given their own privates to order out onto different bases. It's a unique feeling to be so in control of so many.
Nattie loves it, but she's not so sure how her cohorts are taking it. They assimilate their groups but before they know it a surprise attack is launched upon Fort Endrich- Gunther's family. Or more over, gunter's very combative aunt there to teach him a lesson. It wasn't something Nattie had fixed to pay a lot of attention to, had it not been for one of her privates returning from somewhere in the barracks. The woman- a dwarf with reddish hair , stumbles back to Nattie's side.
Behind her stood a tall purple red ponidarian with a surprisingly human form. A tall slendered sort with limbs a gradient charcoal black, fingers ending in pointed nails. It has two sets of horns and a vaguely animal face- with teeth that sit out strangely and a growl building in the recesses of its throat. It has four tails that swing in a nearly impatient manner. Its skin is slightly shimmery with sweat and blood, red lathered thick and dark against the torn wounded skin of its mid- a dark blue jacket like shall ripped open and puffing out bits of stuffed lining like a chimney. It staggers slightly in the grass, legs going bowed as it wobbles.
One of the lower ranking members of fort endrich forces comes besides natties private and points the creature to the ground, trouncing it to the grass at the end of a spear.
“Well hold on now fella,” Natties hands fall to her hips, there's something different about this Oondarian, she can feel it in the magic stirring under her perfectly pressed cuticles.
“Aint no good reason you should be coming in so hot. Who's this? ” she gestures to the oondarian on the ground.
The privateer stiffens, working his feet side to side and stammering under her commanding gaze. “Well hes- hes an Oondarian- Mam- their the enemy.”
“Then why isn't he dead yet? If it's your job to take out the enemy then why's he still here?”
“We figured he’d have information for the army”
She sighs, and tentatively comes to meet the face of the infernal creature in front of her. His eyes shut and squeeze like a feline in peril. Acceptance of fate.
“Well then Private, you should brush up on your c’mand book some. The best way to get information is to have a bit of hospitality. Somebody fetch our new friend here some water”
The private eyes widen but they heed to their command. They rush off in a direction, sputtering across sprigs of uneven weathered lawn and soon rounding back with a canteen of water. The oondarians' long almost cat-like legs shake and buckle as it attempts to paw its way off of the earth.
Tolv draws a step near, his heavy thaumatech body pulsing the earth. “Here let me-”
The oondarian hisses, a low bellied sound squealing to life like a minecart on old tracks. He steps back, yellow eyes and dark red pupils tightening. Tolv puts his hands up. “Okkay.” He glances to the side. “Dug , gunther. Either of you want to give it a try?”
Gunther lets out a low croak. Dug shifts. “I- i guess I could give it a go.” He takes a hesitant step towards the Oondarian.
“Hey little. Little guy?”
“He ain't exactly little, dug.” Nattie half laughs.
“Right- well. He's little to me since I'm so- …” his tone trails off. He moves in a small gust like motion just in time to support the weight of their new infernal companion. Dug props him up and Nattie watches as he recoils in shock. The man presses against dug fur like he's a familiar face, teeth clenched in a silent growl but no noise coming back as he contorts the ends of dug fur against his face, rubbing at it like a bristled brush.
“Woah..”
Dug turns to the others rather excitedly. “Guys he likes me!”
Nattie sigh laughs. “Well that's something."
Dug adjusts the oondarian in his arms. He frowns. “He's burning up.”
“Should we leave him in the infirmary?” Gunther questions.
Tolv looks from gunther to dug, then back to Nattie herself. “I believe you're still the team leader right now nattie. It's your call.”
“Well if it's all the same to you fellas I say we nurse him on our way out. That way we can send him packing or send him to my wife after gettin our info straightened.”
Tolv nods. “Aye aye nattie then. Dug, do you want to hold onto him.”
“Uhh, sure. I can do it!”
Gunther raises his hand. “Nattie if i may-”
“You may.”
He sits in one of his very long very strange gunther typical pauses.
“Could we see what - it is that. Could we perhaps- what would . Giggy think?”
She follows his train of thought, somehow. She scoops the little hellion up under the pits of his arms.
“Gigglesworth you wanna give our new friend her a lil sniff? See whatcha think?” She extends her child to the stranger. Giggy growls and lets out a series of noises before springing from Nattie's arms onto the man in Dugs arms. Giggy shifts and settles against his chest, licking against a wound on the side of his stomach in a placating gesture.
“Oh that's mama's good boy playin nice like!” she grins at him. “Now come on, we best get a move on. We've got places to get ta.”
~~
Dug had hoped Brutaliteam would get farther. The goal had been to get all the way to the boiling bluffs in largely one trip. Their new friend seemed to have other plans.
The Oondarian had not yet spoken, and had spent the majority of the trip moving between his arms and slumping besides captain grumbles. He meanders behind them but eventually fails to keep his wits about him. The man coils in on himself, holding at the wound through his side.
Dug grasps him tightly as he slumps, looking at the receding forms in front of him.
“Uh, guys?” He’d pipe. “I think we need to rest. The new guy isn't seeming so hot.” He presses the pad of his hand to the demonic creature's face. “Well actually he seems very hot. Like. Too hot.”
Tolv cringes slightly. “I'm afraid I don't have any sort of medical expertise but I can help set up camp. Dug you and nattie try a patch job.”
Gunther nods. “I will make food and start a fire while Tolv makes sleeping arrangements.”
“Go team!” Nattie cheers. With a task force in order they set each task. Distantly in the corner of his eye Dug watches as Tolv digs pylons into the ground and strings up tents between two natural rocks in the surrounding area while Gunther gathers a series of dried leaves and other thicket to throw into a boyscout like configuration. Dug gently drags the Oondarian on his back across the flattest way of the dirt until he's somewhat in the light. Nattie kneels next to him and removes a glove.
“Can’t send you packin’ just yet.”
She grabs a roll of bandage from out of her pack, and furrows her brow as she pulls a false nail off of her hand with the sharpest of her teeth before pulling back his shirt. Dug swallows back a twinge of something camping out in his throat at the look of it, puss filled with that deep dark acrid sort of smell and looks to the festering blood. He offers his canteen out to her and she takes it, dribbling water across the marred skin. He lets out a hiss like an opened steam vent, but remains stationary. Dug reaches gently to pat at his head while Nattie does what she can.
“Nattie,” He starts softly, glancing at the drow.
“Yeah Dug?”
“I know you have a … love of adding friends to our party but I don't get exactly why this guy needed to come.”
She keeps winding the bandages. “Well to be honest with you DUg, im not exactly sure why I know but I just do. I'm fixing to commune with my wife when I can next, see if she can help a gal out. Till then it's all instinct.”
Dug puffs out his chest just slightly. “Your instinct usually doesn't steer us wrong.”
“Thanks, sugar.” She smooths down the last of the wrappings flat to the ends of the wound where it's all bruised.
“Thats about all we can do for the cut. If I know anything about these sorts it's that they have a speedier sorta healin. Or at least Giggy does.”
The little devilish child makes a wet snarling noise from beside Nattie's leg. Gunther returns to their sides, holding a bucket over one of his shoulders.
“Would cool water help or hurt a creature of infernace?"
“I think he needs to cool down. Would you like that, big guy?” Dug watches as Nattie leans over the man's face. His eyes creep open and blink harshly once, filling up and naturally rewetting as his dark maroon pupils dart from one side to the other.
~~
Why are you people talking to me?
~~
Dug watches the man writhe and growl, the heat concentrating and simmering deep, heating the dirt. The grass seems to gain a near instantaneous wilted quality.
~~
Where are my friends?
~~
“Cant get much of a clear answer out of him.” Nattie sighs. “Dug, he seemed to like you , do you want to give it a try?”
Dug shrugs his large shoulders and does as she did, repeating the question to him.
~~
I want to go home.
~~
“Come on , man, we're trying to
~
I WANT TO GO HOME
~
“I don't think raising our voic I WANT TO
~
“I don't think thats gunna work gunther, maybe set that to the side for a moment-
IWANTTOGOHOMEIWANTTOGOHOMEIWANTTOGOHOMEIWANTIWANTIWANT
IWANTTOGOHOMEIWANTTOGOHOMEIWANTTOGOHOMEIWANTIWANTIWANT
IWANTTOGOHOMEIWANTTOGOHOMEIWANTTOGOHOMEIWANTIWANTIWANT
IWANTTOGOHOMEIWANTTOGOHOMEIWANTTOGOHOMEIWANTIWANTIWANT
IWANTTOGOHOMEIWANTTOGOHOMEIWANTTOGOHOMEIWANTIWANTIWANT
~~
“Guys, maybe give him room!” Tolv blocks out a bit of the sky light, the vikings imposing structure dominating the scene. Dug and the others listen to his reasoning and take a step back, all but gunther who was half way to pressing a wet cloth to the man's head. He finishes his ministry against orders. The man's skin sizzles, and he seizes every muscle taught for just a moment. His jaw unclenches with a slight pop and for a daring moment it seems as though he might scream.
He doesn't. He just lies there. And then, subtly he stills.
The right choice, probably. But a risky one.
Tolv's eyes narrow for a second, their deep red shuttering through a blink but he doesn't say anything about it. He switches topics at a slight. “Let him rest. Bjorn needed to eat a lot whilst he was sick to sustain. We’ll see if we can't get him to eat sooner rather than later, ya?”
Dug gives a slightly shaky sigh. “Sure. That's a good plan.”
~~
From what Gunther could gather there were a handful of facts making themselves apparent about the given situation.
One: After hours of nursing at a seemingly never ending fever, the Oondarian is starting to improve.
Two: He seems to really, really hate Tolv.
It is a very spirited Oondarian, or at least not a mindless sort of being. Of the infernal creatures raised by the powerful infernace there had proven to be a lot of variety. Some looked like goblins or wargs or other fowl beasts with unique differences and their levels of intelligence and will seemed to vary somewhat.
Despite its illness and wound, this Oondarian seemed to have a lot of spirit to how it operates. While some seem like mindless drones this one feels far more present than anything.
He hovers between Dug and Captain Grumbles at any given time, a methodical sort of purr emitting from its demonic body as it huddles near Dug. Dug has gotten fairly endeared to it as the days go on. Gunther thinks that is a stupid choice but for group moral he doesn't really comment on it.
That's another thing, group morale. Nattie is the party people person. That much is known. Her inability to fathom why this creature seems to hate her is clearly grating on her morals. In all fairness though, she isn't the most hated by miles- that title going to Tolv. Anytime the Oondarian and the Thaumatech orc happen to be even close it sends the purple hued creature into an unexplainable nearly feral panic.
It's almost funny. That leads into point three of Gunthers.
3. It cant and or wont talk.
The Oondarian makes noises. Lots of noises. Their walk towards the nearest city has been nearly plagued by sounds, growls hisses and things of the like but no real words. Dug was able to use some of his magic to identify that the Oondarian is capable of speaking and seems to understand common with the same abilities a native speaker might- or in his direct words “better than Gunther does”. So as of current it's a mystery onto why he wont actually speak.
He can however write. Just not in a language any of them know.
Gunther speaks abyssal which is what he initially suspected the Oondarian may talk or write in, but that just wasn't the case. So that leaves Infernal which he is almost certain the Oondarian knows.
Yet that isn't what he writes in either. Dug was able to once again deduce something of the Oondarian and it was that the language he writes is in thieves cant.
Nobody in the party can write in thieves cant.
That is a problem none of them are exactly sure how to solve. Regardless, it's something of a boost to confidence that he's doing well enough to write.
They’d gathered by the campfire after another long day of travel. Nattie impatiently picks at her autoharp while Tolv silently oils his mechanical joints. Dug is sitting across from the Oondarian, writing on a piece of paper. WIthout anything better to do, Gunther approaches.
He honestly isn't sure what the Oondarian thinks of him, but it doesn't seem to be that bad. On a scale of captain grumbles to tolv he was ranking just a bit above nattie.
That seemed like a good sign to him.
Dug waves Gunther over and shows him the page. “Im translating from thieves cant to common! I'm really close to a breakthrough!”
He holds up a page of messy scrawl, showing a layer of thieves' cant and under it several translations of words and actions, basic knowledge.
Gunther lets out a satisfied hum. He points to a set of letters. “This is?”
“Go.” Dug answers and turns to the demonic creature. He nods firmly.
“Thats go then. Have you tried asking about his name?”
Dug brightens like a campfire fed hay bales. “Gunther you're a genius!”
“Uhh.,, thanks.”
Dug writes out MY NAME and IS in a big font on the page. He starts to instruct through each. A familiar sort of face flashes over the Oondarian, like he knows the language but is struggling to connect the dots on what it means to him. Still , they persist.
Fifteen minutes of baited breath waiting and they get through MY and IS , all that's left is NAME and the question can be properly translated.
“Guys?” Nattie asks them, twisting around to face the three huddled to the ground.
“Nattie was so close to a breakthrough, give us just one second!”
“I don't think these guys want to give us a moment!” The urgency in her tone rises. Gunther hops to his feet and turns to face the others and sees a small Platoon of Oondarian adversaries coming over the hill.
“You came from the way of Endrich Bay?” THe tallest of them hisses, red skin flaring redder with a deep marring ire. “Mortaliion! Seize them!”
A battle chant for inference calls over the surroundings, shattering still air and sending birds fluttering from the trees. Gunther secures his sword, tightening his fingers on its hilt and spinning it in a swift motion.
Dug stands with him, rooting through his bag for supplies. He turns back briefly to the Oondarian. “Stay down, we've got this!”
Tolv stands at the head of the party near nattie, hands shaking with a familiar mounting rage. “What if our oondarian is with them?”
Gunther looks back. The purple Oondarian lets out a loud hiss.
“How would he have communicated with them if he doesn't talk?” Dug interjects.
“While I'd love to argue with you boys, I think we've got bigger issues!” Nattie aims and fires off an explosive eldritch blast at the imprinting mob of infernal creatures, striking a handful of them down into a wailing heap before being thrust to the ground at the edge of a sword. Tolv's war hammer meets the sky and promptly the skull of an adversary, his body going rigid as a negative programmer seizes his body.
Gunther charges, moving in step with Dugs' invention of Gambot to hack and slash at the others. Gunther finds the neck of a demongral and cuts it, being pushed back to back with tolv from the body's last ditch effort before its head rolled off. A piercing pain blooms through the meat of Gunther's thigh as a lance pierces where each tendon meets, an agonizing squelch leaching out onto the land in thick ribbons of burgundy. It grapples Gunther to the floor, tousling the dew soaked grass with the weight of combating forces.
Dug anxiously picks up a pickaxe from Tolv's discarded and rears it high , slamming its pointed head into an Oondarian. Gunther croaks from under his much larger adversary.
“A little help!?” He can see Nattie's stained white boots braced low in the mud as she pins down and sends away another demon with the flick of the wrist and a blown kiss but she's stopped from freeing gunther by another dog pile from the enemies.
He looks for Dug but the bugbear is a bit preoccupied, and Tolv's overclocked rage is practically impenetrable.
Gunther tries to push at the large demonic figure flattening his chest, and just can't seem to manage to. The snare of a knife being driven into various points of his fwailing body is like a cruel laughter to the bones, hollow and shaken. Gunther reaches for his sword, but before he can meet its hilt an arrow thunks into the bear strengthed body forcing his lungs out through his mouth. He gasps in a breath as his assailant winces and writhes. He finally gets enough movement and momentum in his legs to kick up, narrowly rolling the man off of him. He grasps his sword and moves to plunge into its chest but the body is unmoving, faulted by an arrow to the head.
Gunther turns on a swivel to see the purple Oondarian standing in the grass with a bow and arrow. There's a pained look on his face, likely from the injury he has , but he gives an awkward too toothy smile.
Gunther exchanges it and turns back to the fight, an energy of spite filling him to the brim. He boils over , slashing everyone in his path till he's unleashing as much devastation as his warlock and barbarian friends. Between that Dugs robot and a helpful volley of arrows from the back lines, their enemies are soon disintegrated.
Gunther plants his sword into an armoured body to give himself pause, leaning on it in lew of using his bad leg. He pants, eyes fixing to the ground. An unfamiliar voice calls.
“I remembered!” Perfect common, spoken in some strange sort of accent. Gunther sees Nattie and Dug's shocked looks before he sees the speaker, but turning reveals it to be coming straight from the mouth of their purple Oondarian friend. His eyes seem impossibly brighter, somehow more red. Invigorated with spirit.
“My name is CHI-”
The air shatters like glass, cracking and screaming like a banshee, and suddenly Gunther's head starts to pound.
~~~
I can think. I can think again. Where am I? What am I holding?
Why do I have a bow?
~~~
Thunk! Another shot in the target. He turns to face his mother, excitement beaming across his face in a wide stroke like it was painted right on. She smiles, her ginger hair falling across her face as she looks at the bullseye.
“Very well done young archer! You’ll make a great teacher someday.”
He gives her a biteless huff. “I don't know if I'll be a teacher.”
“Well a Lover or a parent then. Regardless, you’ll make somebody very safe and very proud.”
He meets her kind dark eyes. “Besides you?”
She laughs, feet crunching in the snow as she bends down to pat his head.
“Yes, besides you ky”
Oh. I remember.
That must be right.
That must be my name.
~~
I'm holding a bow.
~~
Gunther blinks, and suddenly the world as it was moments ago, fragmented mirrors and a reality disturbed by endless turning freezes back to a staggering inaction.
His eyes unblur. The figure at the bottom of the hill looks nearly disturbed. Just a moment.
Then, blank. Neutral. Almost in a way, chipper. He waves a hand over his head, shaking his bow around.
“My name is Ky!”