By Arm The Chance part I (Baine)
Jun 17, 2020 15:30:33 GMT
Grimes, Varis/G'Lorth/Sundilar, and 7 more like this
Post by Ser Baine Cinderwood 🔥🌼 on Jun 17, 2020 15:30:33 GMT
Finally, the signal comes. He watches the Order of the Crimson Fist assemble for war; squads of heavy horse cavalry leaving the compound one by one, Red growling commands that have never been obeyed quicker, soldiers organising with the frenetic energy of those who have been waiting to move for so long that they don't care that they're moving towards death.
You have to tell him.
He watches Isak go through Floris’ pack to make sure the tiefling hasn’t forgotten anything. He cuffs Kedi up the head and tells him to stay focused. Kamar pulls him in with a single, brutally strong arm and knocks the side of her head against his.
“Die on your feet, urzak,” she rumbles.
“It’s the only way I know how, urzag.”
He takes in all of their faces, commits them all to memory greedily. He tries not to wonder which ones he will see again. He scratches absentmindedly at Helena’s name tattooed over his heart.
Tell him.
He writes a final letter to Thea and sends it off. Checks and checks and re-checks his gear. He takes Frankie over to the Refuge and manages to catch Allenby in the midst of their preparations - the escape to the Dales should all of their plans fail.
(Tell him.)
“If I don’t come back he’s gonna need someone to look after him,” Baine says, nodding to the large hound. “He’s good with kids.”
Allenby considers him for a moment, before nodding. “Give him to Val for now,” he says, and continues packing.
A young, sullen goliath materializes by his side, already bending down to show a young halfling girl clinging to her legs how to pet a dog. When she straightens up she gives him a dark look.
“I know,” he says, “but it’s not in my hands. I can convince him to do a lot of shit, but he’s not gonna budge on this one. So here’s what you’re gonna do, Val, you’re gonna do the job, just not on the frontlines.”
She frowns.
“You’re gonna protect these people. Protect this corner of the world.” He nods down to where the little halfling girl has buried her entire face into Frankie’s fur.
“Look out for them, and keep them safe. Someone has to. Alright?”
She doesn’t look mollified but holds out her hand for the leash, silently.
“Take care, Little Mountain.”
There’s a feast for both the body and the mind, courtesy of Pieni. He has the bittersweet opportunity to look at the faces of many of his friends and wonder about them too; how many of them he will see again and how many of them will lay down their lives in the face of Zariel’s machinations.
Varis gives a speech, almost as good as the one he gave before battle in K’ul Goran. It does the job and Baine feels his focus sharpen, his resolve harden. He thinks back to the time on the ship, right after they’d gotten Varis back and went off to fight a giant eel. He compares that shadow of a man to the one rallying them all right now and smiles to himself. He remembers the words he himself had spoken on the way back. ‘I’m not scared of anything anymore.’
Tell him.
What a liar he’d been.
Ori drones on and on, but eventually they all hold hands and feel the familiar sensation of being transported from one plane to another. Avernus welcomes them back with open, scorching arms and in the shadow of an erupting volcano they set out for Coward’s Way.
Varis is holding it together, barely, and Baine imagines he can feel his commander’s pain as keenly as if it were his own; the clean, vicious slice of fear like a swift dagger to the gut.
They find the metal trees and the knights strung up in them, dead but somehow still feeling pain. There are some sort of bats, feeding on their remains, and Fuck This, he thinks, and starts climbing.
The plan works, unfortunately. The dead send out a call and a Hell Knight rides out to meet them. The fighting begins, finally. He’s never been good with planning, with words and possibilities and inaction. His maul sings in his hands and the Holy Symbol on his chest hums as he casts a protective spell on himself. (There’s something else there beckoning to him, something powerful just out of his reach, if he could only stop for a moment, catch his breath and grab it-)
It’s not long before they are recognized as those who had dared to steal Zariel’s last tears and that does it.
The sky is ripped asunder. Flanked by two of the largest devils Baine has ever seen, Zariel flies down to meet them, feathers still fluttering on what used to be celestial wings.
The plan worked, unfortunately. With a voice that rattles his teeth, the Archduke of Avernus mocks them and informs them of the futility of their plans. Baine runs his mouth, reckless as always in the face of insurmountable odds. At his side, Sunday flat-out punches the Hell Knight to death. He would be laughing at the absurdity of the situation if he wasn’t choking on bile and dread.
Behind them, the volcano explodes in another eruption. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Varis and Tuevel, black and red and silver, gleaming through the dust and fumes. Zariel spreads her wings.
You never told him.
You have to tell him.
He watches Isak go through Floris’ pack to make sure the tiefling hasn’t forgotten anything. He cuffs Kedi up the head and tells him to stay focused. Kamar pulls him in with a single, brutally strong arm and knocks the side of her head against his.
“Die on your feet, urzak,” she rumbles.
“It’s the only way I know how, urzag.”
He takes in all of their faces, commits them all to memory greedily. He tries not to wonder which ones he will see again. He scratches absentmindedly at Helena’s name tattooed over his heart.
Tell him.
* * *
He writes a final letter to Thea and sends it off. Checks and checks and re-checks his gear. He takes Frankie over to the Refuge and manages to catch Allenby in the midst of their preparations - the escape to the Dales should all of their plans fail.
(Tell him.)
“If I don’t come back he’s gonna need someone to look after him,” Baine says, nodding to the large hound. “He’s good with kids.”
Allenby considers him for a moment, before nodding. “Give him to Val for now,” he says, and continues packing.
A young, sullen goliath materializes by his side, already bending down to show a young halfling girl clinging to her legs how to pet a dog. When she straightens up she gives him a dark look.
“I know,” he says, “but it’s not in my hands. I can convince him to do a lot of shit, but he’s not gonna budge on this one. So here’s what you’re gonna do, Val, you’re gonna do the job, just not on the frontlines.”
She frowns.
“You’re gonna protect these people. Protect this corner of the world.” He nods down to where the little halfling girl has buried her entire face into Frankie’s fur.
“Look out for them, and keep them safe. Someone has to. Alright?”
She doesn’t look mollified but holds out her hand for the leash, silently.
“Take care, Little Mountain.”
* * *
Varis gives a speech, almost as good as the one he gave before battle in K’ul Goran. It does the job and Baine feels his focus sharpen, his resolve harden. He thinks back to the time on the ship, right after they’d gotten Varis back and went off to fight a giant eel. He compares that shadow of a man to the one rallying them all right now and smiles to himself. He remembers the words he himself had spoken on the way back. ‘I’m not scared of anything anymore.’
Tell him.
What a liar he’d been.
* * *
Ori drones on and on, but eventually they all hold hands and feel the familiar sensation of being transported from one plane to another. Avernus welcomes them back with open, scorching arms and in the shadow of an erupting volcano they set out for Coward’s Way.
Varis is holding it together, barely, and Baine imagines he can feel his commander’s pain as keenly as if it were his own; the clean, vicious slice of fear like a swift dagger to the gut.
They find the metal trees and the knights strung up in them, dead but somehow still feeling pain. There are some sort of bats, feeding on their remains, and Fuck This, he thinks, and starts climbing.
The plan works, unfortunately. The dead send out a call and a Hell Knight rides out to meet them. The fighting begins, finally. He’s never been good with planning, with words and possibilities and inaction. His maul sings in his hands and the Holy Symbol on his chest hums as he casts a protective spell on himself. (There’s something else there beckoning to him, something powerful just out of his reach, if he could only stop for a moment, catch his breath and grab it-)
It’s not long before they are recognized as those who had dared to steal Zariel’s last tears and that does it.
The sky is ripped asunder. Flanked by two of the largest devils Baine has ever seen, Zariel flies down to meet them, feathers still fluttering on what used to be celestial wings.
The plan worked, unfortunately. With a voice that rattles his teeth, the Archduke of Avernus mocks them and informs them of the futility of their plans. Baine runs his mouth, reckless as always in the face of insurmountable odds. At his side, Sunday flat-out punches the Hell Knight to death. He would be laughing at the absurdity of the situation if he wasn’t choking on bile and dread.
Behind them, the volcano explodes in another eruption. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Varis and Tuevel, black and red and silver, gleaming through the dust and fumes. Zariel spreads her wings.
You never told him.
