Super-Soldier in Another World

Twindil sighed as she rounded the corner into the tunnel. She saw Lance already far ahead of her, quickly moving right past the wagon and further into the darkness. She would likely need some time to herself to cool down, just as Hoplite did. It had been strange, and admittedly a tad bit terrifying to hear the Outworlder lose his temper that way. He was normally cold and stiff, almost like a statue that had become animate. To hear that heat in his voice was deeply unsettling, it wasn’t the same as when they were on the wagon… When he’d shouted back then, she knew that it was due to Kazon’s influence.

With Twindil canceling out that vile magic, that meant that his anger had been genuine. She didn’t think he’d be offended by her mild scolding, at least, not to that level.

“So, are you angry with him too?” Alistair asked, quickly walking up beside her.

“Not at all.” Twindil said honestly, “But I suspect Hoplite is the kind of man that needs space when he gets frustrated, so I didn’t wish to stay.”

“Makes sense.” He replied, “How long do you think he’ll be out there?”

“I’m guessing only a few minutes,” She shrugged, “But with him, who really knows?”

“Should we talk to Lance- or you I mean,” Alistair said, nodding towards the Watcher’s retreating back, “I don’t think it's a good idea to let that one stew.”

“I’m intrigued to see that you care.” Twindil replied, her tone genuine.

Alistair frowned, “This is a dangerous trip, we can’t have the party tearing itself apart. Sure, they aren’t really part of our group, but right now we’re sticking together, and these kinds of fractures can’t be left to worsen.”

“I’m impressed,” Twindil said, again in an honest tone, “I’m happy to see this side of you.” She finished with a smile.

Alistair’s lips pulled into a tight line, “I don’t care, not in that way at least.” He explained, “But it would be foolish to let this fester, best we resolve this as soon as possible.”

“That’s wise.” Elum said, pulling up beside them with a nod, “Such a dire mood has a habit of spreading to others as well, imagine if all of us were behaving that way at the same time. We wouldn’t have survived this long.”

“It’s hard to b-be apaetic- apathetic,” Kid’ka stuttered behind them, “To people who’ve had your back for years. Hoplite and Lance haven’t known itsother- eachother, for nearly as long as I’ve known you.”

“Dire moods can still spread, and keep in mind that the heat of anger can evaporate years of friendship if left to cook.” Nolvi commented in a passive tone from behind Kid’ka.

“That might be the longest sentence I’ve heard from you.” Alistair laughed, “Special occasion?”

After a long moment of silence, Alistair waved a dismissive hand, “Guess we’ll talk again next year…” He said with a mild grimace.

Twindil and the others passed the wagon finally, and she saw that Lance had come to a complete stop at the far end of the chamber, her back to them. Twindil began walking faster, putting up a hand to dissuade the others from following after her. Once she was certain that the party was remaining by the wagon, she pulled up beside Lance, gently placing a hand on the Watcher’s shoulder.

“Some people are very unaware of the effect their words can have on others,” Twindil explained, “Him least of all it would seem.”

“It isn’t really his fault.” Lance said, her tone low, “He’s socially stunted.”

“His parents must have been the same way I’m guessing, how a child is brought up significantly impacts how they interact with others.” She replied with a nod, “Once he cools down I’ll try and talk with him again-”

“He wasn’t raised by anyone except his world’s military.” Lance explained, interrupting Twindil, “He was taught that he was a tool, not a person. A tool doesn’t care about how their words would affect others, it only cares about what it's supposed to do.”

Twindil paled at this revelation. Hoplite had been raised to think of himself not as a human being? How cruel did the other realm have to be in order to drain the life out of a child that way? A mote of hot fury began to build in her heart at the thought, but she quickly extinguished it. Anger could not be allowed to fester within her, not when she was trying to bring tranquility, it would taint the peace.

“He might say that he’s little more than a tool, but that doesn’t change what he really is. He is a man, no matter what he says.” Twindil said, firming her features, “A tool doesn’t have emotion, and the anger he displayed earlier is proof of that.”

“I heard that when I was walking away. He’s been getting a lot less…” Lance hesitated, “A lot less cold lately… maybe that’s why his words stung so much.” She paused for a long while, her face contorting into an intense grimace, “No… no. It hurt because it was true, it hurt because he was right, I’m useless.”

Twindil remained silent, but clasped her hand on Lance’s shoulder, waiting patiently for her to go on.

“I’ve always been good at my job, scaring off ruffians, reporting disturbances in the Faewood, but when it comes to important events, I fade into obscurity. There has been nothing great I have accomplished, I’m the second best living Watcher from the Faewood, and yet I feel as if I’ve done nothing to change-” her voice caught, “to really change anything.” She finished, wiping tears away with her palm, the links of her chains clattering against one another with the motion. “I’m insignificant. Fire-Eyes knows it and Hoplite does too. They’ve both laid it out plainly for me: I can’t change anything.”

Twindil remained silent for another moment, waiting for Lance to continue. When she did not, Twindil said gently, “That isn’t true.”

She shook her head. “You’re just trying to make me feel better. That’s alright, but I can handle the truth. I couldn’t make a dent in that horde earlier, not even hold my own like the rest of you. I’m a… a liability. Hoplite’s just blunt enough to admit the truth when you're too nice.” A sniff punctuated her breath as she lifted up her arms. “I bet these chains felt sorry for me too. It’s like Hoplite all over again, but nestled against my arms, weighing me down and reminding me that I can’t do anything compared to everyone else without outside magic.”

Twindil forced a sigh down. She’d seen many a worshiper demean themselves for not being as tranquil as possible for Afina’s sake, feeling worthless and unworthy of the faith. Hells, she’d felt that way more than once. She kept her tone gentle and comforting, “Not everyone in this party is meant to be a combat specialist.”

“But I should be, at least to stop from getting cursed-”

“That’s not my point,” the paladin interjected, pausing on how to address the much-older elf, “sweetheart, it’s that your skills don’t have to be only focused and valued by how many Fiends you can incapacitate.”

Lance only shook her dark hair.

“If killing was the only metric we used, then healers would be just as much a liability as you think you are. No one would bother building Fikchon’s house, and battle tactics would be measured in individuals cutting swaths through enemies. Does that sound like our world?”

The elf heaved a sigh and narrowed her reddened eyes. “I’m no child, Twindil.”

She bit her lip, realizing her mistake. “Sorry, what I mean to say is that you have plenty of skills that the rest of us haven’t had the opportunity to cultivate. You’re a Watcher of the beautiful Faewood. I bet you know so much more about nature and tracking than anyone. And you’ve had the years to specialize and branch out into aspects of Watcher-hood that have made you stand out in your group, right?”

“That doesn’t change that every encounter we have from here on is a death sentence for me if I dare step out to help.” Lance replied, “At least not until I learn how to use these chains.”

“Then find a way to help from behind the front lines,” Twindil offered. “To be honest, I think you’re being too hard on yourself. Our party has some advantages in combat that most don’t.”

“Like what?” Lance looked up.

The paladin cursed the near-slip. “We’ve been traveling across Ahkoolis for some time, fighting off powerful foes. In fact,” she paused to give her next words more weight, “Kazon himself has been goading us into becoming strong enough to fight him.”

“What? Why?”

Twindil raised her shoulders. “We aren’t sure why exactly us in particular,” she said vaguely, “but he’s taken something very precious from all of us. We’ve had no choice but to become as strong and battle-hardened as quickly as possible to save what we love… if it’s not too late, that is.”

Lance examined her closely.

Twindil felt the weight and potential wisdom hiding in the older elf’s eyes and backpedaled from the topic. “This isn’t about me and my party’s woes. We’ve had to bond together out of necessity and your situation is probably different. The point is that what you’ve trained for isn’t the place you find yourself in. You couldn’t possibly have prepared for these drawbacks in close combat. But, I think you’ve got what it takes to adapt and find a place in this group, as hard-headed as it is.”

She attempted a small grin and chuckle to soothe the Watcher. “I doubt that Hoplite would have let just anyone follow him around on such a cursed adventure. Even if he didn’t say it outright, the fact that he didn’t insist on you staying home means that he’s seen you hold your own and wants your help, right?”

Lance tilted her head back and forth with a shrug. She was distracted with the topic of Hoplite effectively, shutting down any further questions about Twindil or the rest’s past. She was sure the topic of Kazon’s interest in them would come up once more, but that was something that could be talked about another time. Twindil did not wish to speak of it now.

“Trust me, you’re not useless to the party. We can find ways to make you stand out more, but it might not be in the way you’re used to. Think about it, and we can all work together. Alright, Lancela?”

The dark-haired elf fiddled with the chains around her arms again, quiet and solemn. After a few moments, she said, “Alright, I’ll think about it. Though, with these,” She continued, lifting her chained arms, “I might be able to remain in my comfort zone, at least when it comes to battle.”

“That’s good to hear,” the paladin smiled. “If you want to give that chunk of metal a good talking to, you’ll have everyone’s support.”

Well, perhaps she’d not have Michael’s support, or Nolvi’s, or Alistair’s or- Twindil blinked. They didn’t seem the type to get too involved with personal drama… but Lance would at least have her support.

She breathed out an amused sound. “Nah, I’m too run down right now. I’ll talk to him tomorrow maybe, when we’ve both had a chance to calm ourselves.”

“Wise.” Twindil replied with a nod, “Alright, now we should be figuring out how these chains of yours work… unless you aren’t up to it?”

Lance smiled, “Of course I am, I don’t need to sleep tonight so I’ll have plenty of time to learn.”

“I might be able to help too, I’m not a full-blooded elf but I feel that I’m able to stay up until midnight at least.” She said, again nodding, “I’ve spoken with plenty of people who’ve performed the bonding, and they’ve explained to me how they get their items to function.”

“I appreciate it, truly but…” Lance paused, “I was wondering if you could perhaps check on Hoplite? See if you can’t get him to come inside? It's about time for him to sleep I think.”

Twindil smiled, “Certainly, I’m sure that he will have calmed down by now. I’m surprised that you would worry over him after what just happened.”

Lance shrugged, “Just because we had a little spat doesn’t mean he shouldn’t get sleep, I’d go out there and tell him to do it myself but… but I still want some time on my own.”

“I understand.” Twindil said with a nod, “I’m off, if you decide you want help with your chains just let me know.”

With that, Twindil turned on her heel walking back toward the entrance of the tunnel. She passed the rest of the party, including Michael, on the way back. Alistair and he seemed to be leading the talk, each asking about one another's methods during the battle. Their tones seemed awed and complimentary, and this pleased her. Those two may become good friends if they maintained decent rapport, at least she thought so. As she passed them, the Outworlder made a comment about Hoplite needing more time to himself, but Twindil felt that he had likely cooled off already. He didn’t seem the type to remain angry for long periods of time. Twindil did tell Michael that she would return if Hoplite was still upset, and this seemed to satisfy him, for he drifted back into conversation with ease.

She rounded the corner, taking a deep breath to steel her nerves. How did she bring tranquility to a man who didn’t think he was one? If what Lance said was accurate, then he only viewed himself the same way as she viewed a bucket, or a wrench. Could she convince him that he wasn’t the tool he thought he was? It sounded as if some intensive indoctrination had taken place when he was a child, chipping away at such a worldview would be much like mining a mountain with a toothpick. Hoplite saw his existence through a very thick lens; a lens that never bent nor smudged… at least, not without outside help. She knew it to be so… for she understood exactly what it was like to see things through that very same lens.

She’d not try and break that lens today, it was far too soon and this was an inappropriate time. Twindil would just do what Lance had asked of her and bring the man inside for rest. Now that she thought of it, it had been a few days since he had last slept- she rounded the corner - It was absolutely unhealthy to-

Twindil gasped in shock as standing there, next to Hoplite, was a towering silvery man clad in the most ornate plate mail she had ever seen. He towered over the Outworlder by at least two heads, with snow-white hair as long as she was tall draping down over his long silvery cape. Who was this man, and why was he talking with Hoplite?

“So, that is your answer?” The man asked, his angelic voice reaching her ears just barely.

“Leave.” She heard Hoplite order in a sharp tone, “You won’t speak of my Lord that way, if you stay, I will be forced to neutralize you.”

The stranger laughed then, a hearty amused sound that echoed across the bridge.

“If you deny such a lineage, then you will show me proof, remove your helmet for me.” The man ordered in a tone that expected compliance, “I have no more time for this, boy.”

Surprisingly, Hoplite’s hands reached up toward his helmet, but as they were just about to remove them, they froze. The Outworlders hands began shaking before they lowered, almost as if they were being forced back down.

The stranger then gave an irritated sound, “That is almost proof enough for me as it is… but this still does not satisfy me… I command thee kneel!”

And Hoplite fell to his knees.