TRASH - Act 1: The Spinner

Night pulled its shimmering cloak over the sky, illuminating the flickers of ash that still danced in the frigid air like falling stars. The trees whispered in the breeze - at least, most of them did. A few screamed and cracked as a hulking purple beast lumbered into the serene setting, huffing and puffing like it was about to blow over a straw hut. It scanned the brun wreckage around it, glowing yellow eyes darting around hungrily for any movement. A man came skipping after it, jumping around the wreckage of splintered trees to stand beside the monster. He held his hands up to his hair, trying to warm them a little bit over the flickering flames that acted as his follicles. "Cold."

The beast snarled, sauntering forward as the man quickly followed it, hugging himself to keep some warmth. "You need to stop it with the midnight snacks." He watched it continue towards a charcoaled building, eyeing the rest of the stilled chaos for anything that could tell him part of the story that had happened here. There were traces of magic splattered across the ground carelessly, likely the source of the flames that had grown beyond control.

He scoured for more details, looking for opposing traces of the magic that had scorched the place. A lack of this detail gave him another piece of the puzzle. It was a massacre.

He pulled a threaded necklace out of his robes, rolling the glowing crystal strung to it in his palm as he closed his eyes. A familiar voice tickled his mind, its voice sharp as ice as it echoed in his head. "Heroes."

He jumped at the sound of a loud snap, shooting the large purple creature a glare as it yanked the roof off of a larger hut. He watched it reach in to scoop out a handful of charred corpses, grimacing as it gobbled down the lot.

"You're gonna need some breath mints." He gagged, holding his nose to stave the wretched scent that had escaped the building. "Boy these heroes are really something aren't they Hord'anne?" He turned away to cough, escaping to sit on a toppled log and turn his investigation to a book bound to his satchel. Hord'anne joined him after a couple of minutes, dropping beside him on the uprooted tree trunk and successfully crushing it into splintered rubble. The man chuckled, looking around at the film of ash all around them. "You think it's rude if I set up a campfire here?"

Hord'anne chuffed.

"You're right! No one's here to judge us." He looked up at the sky, squinting before grabbing his necklace again. "Or we could get a head start and find out who did this."

Hord'anne stopped chewing the last bit of squishy charcoal in his mouth, giving his full attention to the man as he stared at the glowing crystal. The man's expression gradually fell as he stared at it. "Says we don't belong in that story," he scoffed, Hord'anne miming his scoff. He let go of the crystal, kicking at a mound of ashes in disappointment.

But Hord'anne wasn't so quick to give up, chuffing out a few choice growls that seemed to bring a flicker of life back to the man's fiery hair.

"You're not wrong. Where there's a story, there's a hero - a protagonist. And look at what this one did." He motioned to the scorched village, a devious twinkle in his eyes as he snapped open his book. "Wouldn't they be fun to kill?" He kicked a mark in the dirt, dragging his foot to start at a circle. "And it's not like we know they probably went northwards to the closest town, since the only thing south of here is bushwacking and undead."

Hord'anne rose to his feet with a growl, cracking his knuckles and letting loose a bellowing roar.

"You sure?" The man said, looking at the crystal with sudden timidness. "If we don't listen to her we might run into a protagonist with plot armour so thick we die in some skatty, illogical way."

Hord'anne let out a puff of air as the man nodded.

"You're right, screw em. Death to the protagonists!" He snapped his fingers, the markings he had made in the dirt glowing white. In a flash the man and his beast vanished, leaving only the swept circle from whence they stood.

—————

Corian sat there, face down and done with life, literally and figuratively. He'd finally gotten it all out, and was hungrier than ever now. But after a whole day of sitting out under the wagon's potty-hole, he wasn't going to lay a finger on the chunk of meat he had discarded. The bread definitely had something in it, and he'd been throwing up every soggy crumb of fluffy wheat since he'd finished his last bite.

The carriage lock rattled, pulling Corian's attention as Rikkihalynia walked in. They quietly came upon Corian's side, nudging him with their foot. Corian turned his head to glare at his masked sibling. "Go away Rikka."

They failed to listen, grabbing his shoulders and weakly dragging him towards the door before he struggled out of the hold and got to his feet.

"I can walk stupid. What do you want?"

Corian looked to where they were pointing. Through the shade of the forest, Inprobus and Quibbis were standing by a small bonfire, staring at a sheet of paper. He complied with Rikkihaylnia's gesture, walking across the clearing with the loud clang of his chained cuffs announcing his presence.

Quibbis came up to him, stopping him from stepping on something near the ground and pointing at the mysterious sight. Corian stared at the large footprint, frowning at the blackened grass that had completely withered in the indent. "A bear?"

"With hands?" Improbus growled, motioning to a tree crushed at the middle with a searing handprint on its bark. He didn't share Corian's look of fear, instead walking along the trampled trees and stroking a scorch mark. "His majesty has become especially interested in a fabled demon come to life. It is my duty to hunt down this creature. He wants it stuffed and mounted for his new wife."

Corian furrowed his brow. "Isn't the wedding over?"

"No, that one was executed last week. New wife."

Corian rolled his eyes. "Lucky her."

Inprobus ripped a chunk of scorched bark out of the tree and walked over to Corian. "You, ghoul. Can you track its scent?"

"Excuse me?" Corian spat, folding his arms. "For one, I'm not a ghoul. Ghouls aren't humans, so even if I'm a living corpse I'm still a hu-" His lesson was interrupted with choked gargles as Inprobus grabbed his throat.

"Shut up. I hereby declare you a blight to the holy sigil, a blight thusforth named Ghoul." He shoved the chunk of seared bark in his face. "Follow this scent."

Corian sniffed it while Inprobus still gripped his throat. It smelt foul. Beyond the burnt wood that blasted his nose, something decayed and rotten wriggled in. Like a batch of old eggs that had been forgotten in the cellar. "Smells like skat." He ripped Inprobus' hand off his throat, waving off the scent with a gag. "Guess what? This entire place smells like skat! Follow the footprints! There's not a lot of places a lumbering beast like that can hide you halfwitted dragon arse!"

Inprobus drew a dagger, slicing Corian's throat to cut off further scolding and kicking him to the ground. He wiped the blade, pointing at the wagon with a burning scowl. "Lock him back up!"

—————

Maddison vigorously scrubbed his cloak, pulling it out of the stream and wringing it out to sniff with a grimace; Sariel was right for once, it smelled like death. He'd sworn he'd washed it at least two missions ago, and it hadn't been sprayed that bad. He sighed, plunging it back into the river for more scrubbing as he looked to his right at Sariel. She was casually plucking dead strands of long grass from the root of a tree, weaving them together into the start of a bowl. She looked up and locked gazes with him, slowly narrowing her eyes as she plucked a piece of grass without breaking the uncomfortable stare down.

"What?" Maddison frowned as she averted her gaze back to weaving the bowl. "You keep doing that, what's wrong?"

"Be straight with me," she replied, pointing a piece of grass at him like it was a deadly sword.

Maddison cocked an eyebrow, pulling his cloak out of the stream to sniff again. "Sure."

"You one of em scammers?"

"What? No! I-" Maddison thought for a moment. "Why do you think I'm a scammer?"

"Well you straight up kidnapped me and stole Horse there," she retorted, motioning to the mount that sat obediently beside a tree. "Yer actin mighty suspicious there Mr. Sungard."

"I helped you! Those were royal soldiers! They're looking for The Black Witch that killed their hero, they're looking for you!"

"You said I'm not a witch," Sariel argued. "So yer saying you lied?"

"No, you're not a witch. It's just that the king's generals think you are. They're wrong, but they don't know that, or they just don't care. So it's best to get as far away from that place as possible so they don't catch your face."

Sariel gave him a hard stare, her eyes still narrowed as she slowly turned back to weaving the bowl, plunging the scene into silence once more.