Near Mint Mill

What had started as working for a meal had turned into working as she had nothing else to do. A day turned into two, three, a week, two weeks and now a month since Saroria stumbled upon the quiet village.

Pleasantly quiet until she tasted the change in the air, the atmosphere of the village subtly shifted to apprehension. Born and raised in Hell, as Saroria was, everyone down there quickly learned all the sensations the predominantly negative emotions generated.

The trepidation of the villagers was steadily rising into a commotion out in the square that caught everyone’s attention.

“LOVELY VILLAGERS OF wherever the hells this is!” A distinctly male voice called out. “YOUR BELOVED PROTECTORS HAVE RETURNED! COME ON OUT AND SHOWER US WITH YOUR AFFECTION!”

Saroria arched an eyebrow at the door as she continued to clean the leftover mugs from the night before. She turned her head when Santi came out from the back leaving his giant pot of stew to simmer. “Stay here.” He told her, digging through his apron as he made his way to the door.

Santi’s demeanour just piqued Saroria’s curiosity even more. She waited a couple heartbeats before moving to the darkest corner of the tavern and angled herself to be able to keep her eyes on Santi as he walked out into the village square. Saroria tugged at the infernal power deep within her that she had chosen to suppress and used her will to channel it into her sight to enhance her vision beyond mortal levels. She could now make out details anyone normally could if only they were standing right in the square.

Any of the mortal races that acceled in a singular sense would be hard pressed to match Saroria’s should she put even the tiniest amount of effort into its usage. She was supposed to be a predator of mortals afterall, a far better predator than those currently shouting athte villagers.

The one doing the yelling was off his horse, a tall strong male with dark brown skin and long pointed ears that arched backwards from under thick dark brown hair. The ears likely belonging to one of those ‘nef’ races Saroria had been mistaken for since her arrival in this mortal realm. He wore shabby armour but had a couple more distinguished pieces than the other three of his group. All of them, though, had their weapons on prominent display. A shinny handled sword hung low on his hip, with his hand resting on the pommel.

The other three had not gotten down off their horses, one was a skinnier version of the one doing the speaking. The other two hung back a couple horse lengths. Neither were taller than the one on the ground but they both had significant muscle. Nef variants as well, one with dark green skin and hair the other dark blue skin and black hair, the more she watched them the more curious she got of just how many deviations there were of these nefs. They sat upon their horses in silence, a hand near the handle of their weapon of choice and eyes watching the crowd.

Saroria knew what they were from the moment they arrived, but it was confirmed when she watched Santi hand over a small coin purse. They were thugs who extorted the village for coin in the guise of protecting them. But really the protection was from the thugs themselves should they not get paid their coerced fee rather than protecting them from any other dangers to the town. Absolutely gutless behaviour pursuing minimal risk for easy profit.

The one she deemed the leader bounced the bag of coin Santi gave him in his hand, testing the weight. A touch of power, shaped by her will, into her hearing and Saroria could hear them as if she was standing with them. “Seems a little light, my friend.”
A tendril twitched on the back of the kryt’s head. “It is the same as last time.”

The thug tilted his head apologetically. “Did you not get the notice? Cost goes up every time.” He tossed the bag up a little higher and caught it. “But since we’re in a rush and I’m feeling generous and I don’t want you making it up to me with disgusting ale of yours.” He carried on tucking the coin into a pouch on his hip. “Make sure it’s double for the next time and we’ll call it even.”

Saroria had picked up enough of the kry bar keep’s mannerisms since her arrival that she knew his immense aggravation at the unscrupulousness of the thug. The tone of his response came out remarkably even despite his repressed emotions. “I’ll see what I can do.” Santi said noncommittally.

The leader grinned and clapped a hand on Santi’s shoulder. “Trust you, my friend.” He turned back to the others and headed for his horse. “As much as we would love to stay and regale you with our numerous courageous deeds, other towns require our attention.” The leader effortlessly pulled himself up onto his steed. “Stay safe and see you before winter.”

Saroria had heard and seen enough. It was situations like this that had caused such destruction in her life, the pathetic preying on the weak, forcing their own misfortunes upon others. With all the kindness Santi and the other villagers had shown her, no way in any of the Seven Hells was she going to let them suffer at the hands of these lowlifes. She rose to her feet and headed for the front door. Saroria tugged down her tunic a bit more to better expose some extra curvature of the top of her generous chest as she walked out of the heavy shadows and into the light.

“Hey!” Saroria called from the doorway, just as the thugs had turned their backs to the villagers. Everyone, even the thugs whipped their heads around to look at her. 

“Holy…” The skinnier of the brown ones said with eyes wide.

“Don’t be strangers!” She waved cheerfully at them.

“Oof.” The blue one woofed in appreciation of her tantalising body.

“We don’t have time for this.” The green one reminded the others.

Their leader cleared his throat. “Definitely won’t be if you stick around.” He responded to Saroria’s comment before turning back to the path and urging his horse on.