Path of Their Own Ch. 01

Holding her hands defensively over the crotch plate of her armor as unwelcome images filled her head, Felyn nodded at the paratroopers query. "They'll likely wait until the rest of the patrons leave. Maybe even until the two she brought in to cook and run the bar have gone. But when she's vulnerable, they won't stop they've all been satisfied."

"We gotta stop 'em," the Private said, turning to Flak as the Drow leaned back against the door to close it.

"Stop what? They haven't done anything yet," the Marine responded, crossing his arms as he realized the situation he found himself in yet again. "There's still local authority and we need to stay off as many peoples' radar as we can. Going to war with a town just to kill a couple armed travelers won't help that."

Noting the looks he was getting from both Galen and Petra, Flak suggested, "Look, pre-emptive murders never did nothing but start feuds. How about instead I stand guard here with my AK, make sure Rose is okay while you go out. Otherwise we get some bad blood following us around and I'm pretty damn sure something like that would make it a Hell of a lot harder to find the other Elves. We can't just outright kill them."

Felyn was annoyed. Even without saying anything, she could sense that Galen agreed.

"She is in danger and there are more of them than there are of you, Flak," the Drow said, her statement actually more directed at Galen than anyone.

"They still haven't done anything," the Marine repeated, glaring at her.

"They will, fool," she retorted. "I know."

"We could frame them," Petra suggested, bringing the two soldier's attention to her while Felyn had to fight the sudden, unexpected urge smile at the clever Neko. "We break in to Sloss' home, steal something valuable, and take Naipee while leaving her room looking like they had their way with her there. I can scale to the balcony and deal with anyone upstairs before you move in down below. And upon our return here, we plant the valuable on them."

Catching the frown on Galen's face, Petra looked to him and added, "I can do this without killing anyone. Then you and Felyn go through the front to take out the guards there, go inside to do what we need to, and then leave."

You've done this before, pretty kitty... the Drow thought in amusement.

"And I stay here to watch over Rose and Celia," Flak surmised, mollified. "You know what, that works for me. How about you, Galen?"

The Private nodded. "That does work. But let's get somethin' off the men here, somethin' that could tie them to the break-in. So if Sloss comes huntin,' we can pin it on these guys no problem."

"You can use your magic for that," Petra said, remembering his ability to pull objects from a small distance away into his hand. "Get something of theirs like a keepsake or a shred of their clothes. But make sure it is something unique."

"Will do. You and Felyn get ready to go."

"Galen," Celia interrupted, drawing his attention to her right as he was reaching for the door. "If you are going, I want to come. I want to see Naipee and help set her free."

He glanced to the Drow and Neko already preparing to leave, the former having crossed the room to retrieve a rope from her pack. They were about to go on a dangerous venture where someone could get hurt, and Celia wanted to come along. He had sworn to himself to not let her get into such a situation again. He opened his mouth to say no, but she cut him off.

"Naipee may still be scared of you. Of Petra and Felyn. She would need a clan sister to calm her. And Pretayus' pendant isn't around me anymore, I have magic that may be able to help." His Tree Elf watched his face a moment and pressed, "I will be a help, not a hindrance. You proved I can use your weapons, please, let me prove I can help my clan sister."

Closing his eyes, Galen pursed his lips and let out a breath. She had a point—more than once—and he knew it even as the noise down below in the common room grew louder. He didn't want to have a debate or an argument explaining why she should stay. Not when the amount of time they had before something happened with the men below was unknown.

"Petra, Felyn, make sure Celia is ready to come with us," he conceded, making the Tree Elf smile even as everyone else gave both of them a wary look.

"Are you certain?" Felyn asked, one end of her rope secured to a bed post with the other in her hand to be tossed out the window.

"I am. We may need her when we get to Naipee, and she says her magic can lend a hand. If she can help, then I say we let her."

"What kind of magic, specifically?" the Drow challenged. "Growing roses?"

Petra tried not to show her smirk, covering it with her hand, but Celia folded her arms and, for the sake of her sister in bondage, looked back at the Dark Elf as she rarely did.

"Yes," she replied in their common tongue. "And wood. Made of trees, I can change it."

"Oh?"

"The manor itself an' all its doors were made of wood," Galen argued on her behalf, "and Celia's quiet as any of us 'cept Petra. We're havin' her shoot guns, too, and we expect more, right? So we'll take her to see her sister. It'll help keep Naipee cooperative an' we need that."

"Your choice," Flak said, shaking his head in disapproval. "One less thing for me to worry about here."

"And one more for me out there," Petra muttered in her own language too lowly for anyone but the Drow to hear.

"It's decided, then. I'll go get somethin' off the men downstairs and meet you outside. Go."

Galen opened the door and stepped out in the main room of the inn as his female companions began to prepare. Closing his door behind him and staring down into the crowd of patrons below, how numerous they all were, he let out a sigh and circled around to the stairs. Making the mug he had taken up with him reappear in his hand, he headed down to the main floor of the inn to return it when he saw a prime target for what he had in mind.

A bald man in thick leather and chainmail armor was standing at the bar arguing with the bartender with slurred, drunken words. He kept demanding another drink even as the man behind the counter told him he was cut-off, and after the third time he was told "no," he seemed ready to tackle the pour soul and pour his own round. In all the commotion, Galen noticed a wooden trinket in the shape of a small bird swinging from a chain on his hip. Complete with bright, orange feathers hanging off its neck.

The timing couldn't have been more perfect.

Cozying up beside the man, Galen slid his mug across the bar and grabbed onto the trinket and made it vanish as the drunkard slammed his fists on the counter.

"This is a load of shit!"

"Richard, if you don't calm the fuck down, I'll club you!" snapped a powerful voice from the crowd that had 'Richard' smartening right up.

Galen started making his way for the door when a swordsman with a kite shield on his back grabbed that drunk by the collar and pulled him away from the bar. Before he slipped out the door, the Private could have sworn he saw an odd tattoo on the man's neck. With the commanding presence, he was probably the leader of Felyn's so-called "marauders."

Circling around the alley beside the Slizzed Stag and below his room's window, Galen found a vine growth had sprouted up the side of the building right up to the roof. Standing at its base was a proud-looking Celia grinning as Felyn and Petra climbed the plant down to the ground. When the Elf looked to him for his reaction, he just smiled.

"Nice work," he said, pulling his army tunic up and over his head.

Under Celia's confused gaze he made the shirt vanish into the air and his black, leather long-coat and some of his armor that the Sun-Kissed had given him appear in its place. When he'd finished fixing on his cuirass, as well as the plates and chain mail that protected his arms, he put his Sun-Kissed jacket on over the armor and adjusted the collar. By then Petra and Felyn had finished climbing down and stared at him in his new attire with the same look as the Tree Elf.

"Sloss's son has seen my tunic," Galen said as he made his helmet and combat webbing appear as well. "Can't let anyone there recognize my clothes."

The two women nodded in agreement as he put on his helmet and webbing. Adjusting the sheathed sword still hanging off the side of the canvas belt, he finally made his M14 appear and immediately found something wrong about the weapon.

As Galen tightened up his grip on the wrist of the stock, the moss meant to soften his grip on the wood peeled off. The Private looked at his rifle and discovered the fuzzy greenery was shedding everywhere in dead chunks of grey. What he was left with was the original walnut body that somehow looked to be in better shape than when it was issued to him.

"What's wrong?" Petra asked, and he showed her the side of his rifle while wiping a hand over the butt. Both her and Celia stared as the moss swept off like dust off a table.

"It's in hibernation," the Tree Elf said. "I can bring it back, if you want. But it would need water and your healing magic."

Frowning at the dead plant, contemplating whether he wanted to deal with its groaning or not while on a stealth mission, he shook his head. "No, leave it. It's only ever helped biting someone who would steal it, but makes too much noise for what we have to do."

Nodding her head, Celia let her ears droop and suppressed her bodily glow to almost nothing. With the other two women confirming they were ready to move, the soldier whispered, "Let's go."

The four moved quickly through the town with a howling wind blowing over the rooftops to drown out any sound they made. Galen stayed in the lead and kept checking their corners to ensure there were no surprises for them to run into. Unlike Redding, however, Ricton wasn't at war. There were no patrols, no rooftop archers, no cavalry riding around. Just the odd stray cat darting into alleyways at the sight of them. For Petra, it no doubt was an appreciated change. For Galen, he dared to hope that Celia's rescue would be under the most difficult circumstances and the rest of her sisters would find freedom without as many lives lost.

When they came to the town square, he was able to spot the two guards standing beside Sloss's front door under a lone lantern. With how dark the night was and how bright the light beside their eyes shone, it was doubtful they could see the group creeping along the western edge of the square toward the house. The two men remained idle at their post, neither of them making any moves at all aside from a tired yawn.

Coming up to the western-side of the house, the group took a knee and looked up to the balcony over their heads. It was a solid twelve feet up but with the log construction of the house, Petra could only laugh at it.

"I can scale this easily," she whispered as he claws emerged from her fingers. "I will give a whistle when I've cleared the top floor and you are good to rush the front."

"Understood," Galen said before looking to Felyn. "I'll circle 'round to th' other side. On her signal, I'll light up one finger in a glow sayin' I'm ready, you send a good feelin' with your Empathy when you're ready. Then we rush the guards and knock 'em out."

Getting a nod from the Drow, he then turned to Celia, still speaking English but slowing down more for her. "Go to the back of the house and keep watch for other patrols. Make a flower grow on the corner or some other signal if you see trouble, understood?"

She nodded.

"Good. Okay, go."

...

Galen and Celia moved as quickly as they could around behind the house while Felyn took up her position on the corner. Extending her claws and flexing her fingers, Petra leapt onto the side of the manor and scaled the wall to underside of the balcony. From there she shimmied along a support beam until she was able to climb up onto the balcony itself. Moving on the pads of her feet, she went to the nearest window and peered in to find what she figured to be an empty guest bedroom.

Sliding the window to the side, the assassin slipped in and shut her entry point behind her to keep the howling wind out. She then circled around the bed in the middle of the room and gently opened the door to peer into what she presumed to be an upstairs hallway. What she found instead was a square room with a spiraling staircase in the middle leading downstairs. Across from where she spied were two doors leading to separate rooms, with another door in the middle of the wall on her left.

This may take a while.

She moved into this central room and discovered yet another door on her immediate right. First pressing her ear to it to check for any sound coming from the inside, she carefully turned the knob and opened it up just a hair. To her relief it was empty save for a vanity and large bath tub with strange pipes feeding into it. Not having the time to be curious about it, she closed the door and moved on.

Prowling across the room she quietly opened the next door and peered inside. Against the wall to her right, sitting at an oversized and highly decorative desk under a candle's light was a young, shirtless man with a rather attractive physique. He couldn't have very many years on Galen judging by how smooth his hairless skin still looked. With his dark hair drawn back into a short tail that reached his mid-neck, he turned his head slightly to glance at a document to give the watching Neko a glimpse of his shaven, determined-looking face.

She had to admit that he looked rather handsome, but that wouldn't spare him from her intentions.

With his only pause being to dip his quill in ink, he scribbled tirelessly on his paper to the point that he didn't notice the Neko creep into his room. Even when she hovered over him, he remained focused on scrawling out whatever document he was working on. It made her job so much easier as he didn't have time to react when her fingers pinched the side of his neck to put him to sleep.

Standing behind the unconscious writer, Petra took a quick look about the room for anything worth-while that she could steal. There was a painting on the wall over his large bed, hanging above where his pillows were. Narrowing her eyes, she noticed that there were manacles attached to his bed posts. All four of them.

Mentally reminding herself that she wasn't to kill anyone on this mission, she turned her attention to the open wardrobe by the foot of his bed filled with rich, fanciful clothes. Beside it was a shelf filled with some unusual items.

Leather harnesses and straps. Whips, chains, and more manacles. A wooden ball with leather band going through it big enough to wrap around one's head. Even a paddle with what looked to be...

Petra crept over to the shelf with broadened eyes.

"Man-whore" was written backwards in the paddle. After letting that sink in, Petra figured out it would leave the words visible on any skin it struck. It also helped explain the wooden ball.

That would make a good gag and a bit to bite down on...

Looking to the unconscious man at the desk, she noticed the slightest amount of redness on his skin spreading up from underneath his pants. She glanced at the letters again, matching the "M" and "E" on his skin. She was at a loss for words. Aside from the bewildering assumption that the toys were likely used on him, she didn't know whether to be concerned or aroused at the image she had of him forming in her mind.

I cannot linger. They are waiting.

Leaving the man to sleep at his desk, the Shadow Stalker hurriedly vacated the room to do the job she came here to do.

The next room over proved to be something with which the Neko could admit being impressed. A rather ridiculously large bed complete with a fancifully carved headboard, its own tub and fireplace, a full wall painted in a beautiful mural depicting a meadow teaming with stallions. And...

Sitting in a pair of display cases on either side of the bed were two gorgeous gems.

One was a ruby with a color richer than fresh blood, and the other a sapphire twice the size of the one that the Ra'zorlichs had used to decorate the royal crown.

Creeping over to the sapphire's case, Petra discovered the lid to be unsecured and moved to lift it to steal what was inside. Only when she grabbed the cover, she froze.

This is far too easy.

With a degree of caution, she ran one claw around the seam of the lid all the way around and felt it catch on something other than the hinges in back. Inspecting her discovery revealed a glowing bauble attached to the back of the case with a thin, flip up needle pointing straight up. Had she opened the case, she suspected that needle would break and likely trigger some sort of trap or alarm.

Fortunately, she also discovered that the needle was on a pivot. The Shadow Stalker was able to flip it down and safely open the lid to steal the treasure inside.

It is a shame that the sapphire is to be used to frame those men at the Inn. It really is a thing of majesty.

She tucked the jewel into the wraps holding her breasts in place and gave it an affectionate pat before she went back out into the hall.

Pressing her ear to the final door, Petra could hear more scribbling of a quill on paper and took a moment to cycle her lungs. Turning the knob she opened the door just enough for her to peek in to the room.

What she found was a study with the far wall being made up entirely of windows holding the largest single-pieces of glass she had ever seen. Each of the six panes of glass went from ceiling to floor and was easily a full pace across. The waves that formed from the glass' mould were remarkably shallow to offer little distortion to the glorious view of the town square outside.

And this is just the far wall.

Full bookshelves lined the sides of the room, their shelves heavy with books of all sizes and several different scripts. A decorative suit of armor gilded in precious metals and meticulous engravings stood posing with its sword in the far right corner. Opposite of the suit was a mannequin wearing what looked to be someone's old travel gear complete with a rapier that had seen much better days.

In the middle of the room, hunched over a broad desk with a perfect view of his town, was a larger man sitting in a padded, low-backed chair. He was broad-shouldered, though it was hard to tell how muscled he was under his loose, white bathrobe. The hair on his head looked to have been black at one point, only now it was lined with broad streaks of silver and grey. Other than the wrinkles and splotchy, aged skin on his writing hand, that was all the detail the watching Neko could see from his backside.

This must be the Baron, she assumed.

Light on the pads of her feet, she started pushing the door open just enough to slip through when the hinges gave a horrifying squeak. As the Baron non-chalantly sat up in his seat and went to turn toward the door, she had no time to waste. In two bounds she bolted across the study and wrapped an arm around his neck. His powerful legs immediately kicked to throw his body into her, and that nearly sent the Shadow Stalker off-balance, but she braced with her own, well-toned legs to absorb the shock as his hands went to grab her head.

This effort proved futile as she used her free hand to pinch down on that nerve in his neck. He struggled against her hand and kicked with his legs again, but in that next instant, he was out.

Goddess-damned door, she cursed, setting the old man back down in his chair and double-checking that he was still alive.

When she heard his breath steady over his lips and felt his heart continue beating in his chest, she sighed in relief and went back out into the central room. She circled around the northern side of the staircase where the landing was and peered downstairs. She had to check to see if her racket alerted any men, but from her position, she couldn't see much on the main floor past the second floor's support beams.