The Drake Blood Tales

As the conflict Arnis have been avoided by fallion and his party.

The set first take the point of view of fordragon.

Three days before fallion departure

The tavern was filled with the murmur of mercenaries, their faces hard and their eyes wary, as they exchanged whispers and shared rumors. The dry heat of the desert kingdom of Namrud pressed in from outside, but it was the stirrings within the tavern that truly caught everyone's attention. The patrons were all waiting for someone—someone dangerous.

A figure in the back of the room caught the eye of several mercenaries. She was an elf, her long white hair flowing like a river of moonlight, a stark contrast to the rough men around her. She wore a dark cloak, her movements measured, and her expression calm. Maltufa, a deadly assassin known for her precision, had positioned herself perfectly within the tavern, masquerading as someone she was not.

"Hey, is the Crow here yet?" one of the guests, a grizzled man with a scar running down his cheek, called out, leaning forward eagerly.

Maltufa's gaze shifted to him, and a small, practiced smile curved her lips. She exuded an air of confidence, enough to make her lie believable. "Unfortunately, no," she replied smoothly. "He won't be here for a while," she continued, her voice carrying just enough of an edge to suggest she was trusted by the infamous ForDragon, the Crow himself.

The man nodded, clearly eager to avoid suspicion. "I see," he muttered, but his eyes narrowed as he glanced at the drink she slid across the counter toward him. Maltufa offered him an easy, encouraging smile, her demeanor betraying no hint of deception.

The man hesitated for only a moment before rejecting the drink n. Maltufa watched him silently,she made no move to stop him.

From a table farther back in the tavern, a gruff orc let out a low grunt of frustration. "Hey, Maltufa!" he called out, his deep voice carrying across the room. "Could you at least not waste every poison just because your target didn't drink it?"

Maltufa turned toward him, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. The orc, Drok, was one of the few who knew her true nature, though even he didn't know everything about her methods. He had been her reluctant partner for years, and while he didn't always agree with her tactics, he respected her results.

"Relax, Drok," Maltufa replied, her tone cool and dismissive. "There will be others." She leaned back slightly

The tavern's tension broke slightly as the bar owner—a burly middle-aged man with a worn apron and a mop slung over his shoulder—stepped into the scene. He fixed Maltufa with a sharp glare, his voice rough with annoyance.

"You know," he grumbled, "if you just decided to use a blade to assassinate your target, it'd be quicker for you to finish the damn contract. Less mess too."

Maltufa leaned lazily against the counter, swirling the empty glass in her hand. She raised an eyebrow at him, her tone laced with amusement. "Oh, well… maybe, just maybe, I'll do that when my target isn't guarded by a bodyguard." She glanced toward the bar's corner with a smirk. "Not to mention, one of your customers happens to be his bodyguard."

At those words, a female goblin archer who had been silently observing Maltufa from a nearby table suddenly stood, her sharp eyes narrowing. Slinging her bow across her shoulder, she stalked toward the exit. As she passed Maltufa, the elf gave her a mocking smile.

"Yeah," Maltufa called out casually, "get a better disguise next time, sweetie."

The goblin shot her a glare but said nothing, slamming the door behind her as she left. Drok, the orc, scratched the back of his neck and stepped closer to Maltufa. He lowered his voice, his expression cautious.

"Well, if he really hired the Crow as his bodyguard," Drok said with a low grunt, "you may as well drop the contract now. The kid's got skills, I'm telling you."

The bar owner let out a heavy sigh and began mopping the floor where Maltufa had wasted her poison, muttering to himself. "I've seen him with my own eyes. That one's no ordinary human, I'll tell you that. Doesn't matter what he looks like—he's fast, and his magic? That's no joke. Bet he learned at some mage guild or one of those mage societies."

Maltufa tapped her fingers on the counter, then signaled the server for a drink. As the cup was placed before her, she spoke, her tone quieter now, but no less menacing. "Yeah, but it's not his speed or raw magic that I'm concerned about." She took a sip, her expression unreadable. "It's his holy magic that scares me the most. Mystery magic, I can deal with—it's unpredictable, but it's sloppy. Holy magic, though? That's a whole other beast."

The bar owner paused his mopping and looked up. "Holy magic? That's restricted, isn't it? Only the Justiciar Paladins or their ilk are supposed to have access to that kind of power."

Maltufa nodded, her gaze narrowing as if recalling a distant memory. "Exactly. And that's what makes him dangerous. Holy magic isn't just rare—it's tightly controlled. If he's using it, he's either a rogue from the Justiciars or someone far worse." She leaned back, her voice taking on a cold edge. "The Crow's reputation is fearsome, but this? This makes him more than a mercenary. It makes him a threat."

The orc, raising his mug to his lips, glanced at Maltufa with a contemplative expression. "So, you're saying he's from the Spear of Justice paladins' order?" he asked, his voice gruff.

The bar owner chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned on his mop. "Nah, no way. I know paladins when I see one, and he's not one of them." He gestured with his mop handle for emphasis. "The Spear of Justice order only acts as lawbringers for civilizations that invite them. They don't go around making aggressive moves against lands that don't follow their laws—not unless those lands pose a direct threat."

He paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Now, if there's a threat that needs handling, that's when the Blade of Mercy paladins step in."

The orc set his mug down with a heavy thud and stood, his tone grave. "The Blade of Mercy paladins… Those assassin-paladins are no joke. They're trained to a level that makes other paladins look like rookies in comparison." He folded his massive arms, his gaze distant. "Their blades are enchanted with light-forged magic, and their gear and tools? Top-notch. I saw one once when I was a kid."

Maltufa rolled her eyes and cut in, her voice dripping with skepticism. "No, you didn't," she said flatly, fixing him with a sharp look. "You either didn't see them at all, or you saw four or five of them working as a team. They always move as a unit."

She leaned back, her tone becoming sharper, almost grudgingly admiring. "Their solid teamwork? It's on another level. They make the League of Shadows and the Assassins' Guild look like a bunch of amateurs fumbling in the dark." She snorted softly, a bitter edge creeping into her voice. "Compared to them? I might as well be some second-rate intern playing with toy knives."

Not long after, a deafening explosion echoed outside, prompting the orc and Maltufa to rush out and investigate. They arrived to find chaos unfolding—a group of guards engaged in a heated battle with a suspected cultist.

The cultist, a goblin cloaked in tattered robes, frantically hurled fireballs at his attackers, the flames illuminating the night with an eerie orange glow. The guards countered with binding spells and defensive shields, struggling to subdue him. Despite their efforts, the goblin cultist managed to evade their restraints with surprising agility.

As he made a desperate attempt to flee, an arrow whizzed through the air and pierced his left foot, causing him to stumble and cry out in pain. The source of the shot became clear as the goblin bodyguard from earlier stepped into view, her bow drawn and her sharp eyes locked on her target.

The cultist snarled in pain, his free hand glowing as he prepared another barrage of fiery magic. Maltufa watched from the sidelines, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Well, well. Looks like things are heating up," she remarked, already reaching for one of her vials.

The two stared at each other before the goblin cultist unleashed a barrage of fireballs at the bodyguard.

The bodyguard tried to evade as the cultist aimed to strike her. Suddenly, the goblin cultist felt a strange sensation. He caught a peculiar scent and realized a pink mist had enveloped him.

"Wha-what's this?" he stammered, starting to feel dizzy.

"Oh, nothing, sweetie. Just some poison that will destroy your lungs," Maltufa said calmly.

As the cultist tried to attack Maltufa with fireballs, an arrow pierced his neck, causing him to suffocate almost instantly.

"Phew, I thought I was about to get burn scars," Maltufa said calmly.

The goblin bodyguards approached Maltufa, thanking her for her help.

Before long, they noticed a pack of crazed wolves charging toward them. The wolves quickly lunged to attack, but the orc from earlier managed to intervene and save them.

"Hey, this way!" the orc shouted.

They fled from the pack and turned to witness the wolves devouring the cultist's corpse.

"What the hell is that?" the goblin bodyguard asked, shocked by the gruesome scene.

Maltufa analyzed the situation and replied, "Probably another cultist worshiping a different outer god."

A loud voice echoed through the air, reaching the ears of the three.

"It's okay, people! I know you're all afraid, with all the news about the cultists, but I assure you, Mother Nleghor will be our savior! She will first destroy these followers of the false gods, and with that, she will bring a new age of peace, where we mortals will abandon our hatred and shackles!"

A figure appeared, standing on a large, winged monster. The creature had no head, but two pairs of wings, four legs, and a half-human body with two arms.

Maltufa sighed. "You know, I'm starting to think migrating here was a bad career decision."

The crazed wolves began to scream in pain as their bodies morphed, taking on more human-like features—though they were grotesquely deformed.

"Hahaha, solid, solid," the orc laughed.

Maltufa and the bodyguard stared at the orc in disbelief.

Before long, a giant eagle swooped down and attacked the monster. As the cultist fell, one of the wolf monsters caught him.

"What?! Who dares to attack the messenger of Mother Nleghor?!" he shouted.

A faint voice was heard in response.

"Wow, crazy, right? Who would attack the messenger of an alien who turns animals into monsters?" Fordragon revealed himself.

The cultist commanded the wolf monsters to attack, but a barrage of spectral blades suddenly rained down, slicing through the monsters and killing them all instantly.

"You!!" the cultist yelled, his anger rising. His body began twisting and transforming into a giant monstrosity.

"Nope, nope, nope... this isn't a bedtime story, buddy. I have no time for this every time I fight your kind," Fordragon said, suddenly appearing behind the cultist, holding something in his hand.

As the cultist began to feel dizzy, he was shocked. "Is that... my heart?" he gasped before collapsing to the ground, lifeless.

The orc was shocked. "Holy... what is that? I didn't see anything—almost like the author just decided to skip a few paragraphs!"

Maltufa responded, "I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm out of here. The crow was here. I definitely need to pick another bounty.

You heard that, sweetie? I won't be going after your boss anymore. Now go back to him and have your cuddle moment."

Maltufa then turned and walked away.

The goblin bodyguard spoke up, "It doesn't matter. All we have to do is ask the crow to be on our side."

The orc shared his concern. "You're not from here, right, little fella?"

The goblin bodyguard immediately ran off without answering.

The orc sighed. "Well, that's it, I guess. I'm no good at talking to women."

Not long after, the guest from the tavern earlier approached Fordragon.

"Wait, Mr... Mr... You... You're the crow, right?"

Fordragon proudly responded, "Wow, I must be that famous, if a guest from far away knows me."

The guest introduced himself. "I'm Kazaimon Yarisuke. My father was a businessman, but during his trade with nomadic people, they were attacked by the Yarinaga. My father's life was lost, but we wish to recover the medicine he brought from the nomadic people."

"Hmm... search and retrieve, I see.

I don't see a problem, but the Yarinagas are tough opponents. So, I will charge over 25,000 verak."

answer fordragon.

"No problem, sir. But I can only pay 8,500 in advance," the guest replied.

After some thought, fordragon agreed and asked a strange question.

"Do you happen to have met someone before finding me? Someone who may be an assassin targeting you?"

The guest tried to think, but his panicked state made it hard for him to think straight.

"No... I didn't. I didn't pay attention."

The goblin bodyguards, however, informed them.

"Yes... the girl at the tavern tried to poison you, boss."

"Maltufa. This is actually going to be easier than I thought... Alright, three days. We meet at Burash country, in the village of Parang, behind the mountains of Parang."

Fordragon then called his eagle and flew on its back.

"A guy called the Crow, and yet he rides an eagle? While his name is Dragon... what's with that guy?"

said the bodyguard.

The guest then said, "Yeah, he's unique. But I pray he can save my family business."

.

As Fordragon flies in the sky, he spots Maltufa running outside the city.

His eagle then dives towards Maltufa.

"Hey!!! Poisonous girl!!!"

Maltufa sees Fordragon diving with his eagle towards her. She panics and begins to run as fast as she can.

"Whaaaa! What do you want from me?!" she shouts.

Fordragon jokingly replies, "I just want to dive my eagle at you!!!"

"CAN'T YOU PICK SOMEONE ELSE TO BULLY?!"

She screams loudly as the eagle chases her.

"Well, but you're the easier one to pick."

As the eagle gets closer, no matter how fast Maltufa runs...

"IM NOT PLAYING WITH YOU!!"

She screams in tears.

"But I wanted to."

The eagle suddenly stops diving towards Maltufa. However, due to Fordragon not holding on tightly to the eagle, he is launched and hits Maltufa with his head.

The two then get stuck to a tree.

"You bully," says Maltufa.

The two then get up, while the eagle, now standing on a nearby tree, shows a laughing expression towards them.

"Hey, hey, Maltufa... you got yourself a contract recently, didn't you?" asks Fordragon.

However, Maltufa claims she abandoned the contract already.

"Forget it. He asked you for his service, right? I don't want trouble fighting you, so consider it as having abandoned the contract."

"Haha, well, yeah, but could you at least tell me where the contract came from?"

Fordragon smiles.

"...You want me to get executed?? I got it from the Assassin Guild. The contract isn't much, but it's nice to have dinner for the next month."

Angrily, Maltufa begins to walk away.

Fordragon then follows her.

"How about this: I give you 5,000 verak. Help me get this mission done, and I'll give you another 5,000?"

Maltufa hears this and asks, "In advance?"

Fordragon then shows her a bunch of paper. "Yeah, in advance."

After thinking carefully, Maltufa agrees.

"But on one condition... you either don't get seen or caught, let alone make me known to those people. Or you have to take care of them permanently."

Fordragon thinks for a while.

"Well, I don't think that's possible. They definitely know you were plotting against them."

Maltufa denies it.

"Don't try to trick me with your wordplay!!"

Fordragon assures her, "What, me? No... no... definitely not. I'm just stating the facts. Otherwise, why would there be a bunch of Yarinaga assassins stalking us?"

Maltufa then starts, realizing they are surrounded by Yarinaga's soldiers.

She then hides behind Fordragon.

"Please protect me, the Crow!!! I'll give you my virginity if I need to, but please don't leave me!"

Fordragon sighs.

"Heh... I highly doubt you're a virgin... but regardless..."

The samurai then slowly approach Fordragon.

"This is the Crow?" one of them asks.

"Yeah, this one... the one Miko's after seems like a false one, or a fake one."

"Hey, the Crow, come with us quietly and we may spare your life," says one of the samurai.

"Yeah... I'll take my chance," Fordragon replies.

"Well, consider this your last chance. I hope you've already said goodbye to whoever that kid is who looks like you in Whiteford," shouts one of the samurai.

Fordragon is shocked upon hearing that.

A sword comes out from his sleeve, and as he draws it, a powerful darkness coats the blade.

"What did you say?"

Maltufa, terrified by Fordragon's aura, falls unconscious.

.

.