Realm Stepper

Scaly Little Freaks

"Fuck OFF you scaly little freak!"

Harmon kicked at the dragon under the table currently trying to nibble the end of her boots, and watched it scurry into the forge with an indigent scree.

"Fucking useless creatures, should have left them in the realm they found them in" said Harmon's master.

Harmon loved her master, Harrow, a woman with skin indefinitely covered in soot from the fires in her forge, and shoulders like the oxen that her father had used to plow the fields. Harrow had taken her off the streets only a few weeks prior, citing that begging was not known to create fortunes, gave her a home, and since then Harmon had blistered, bled, and burned her hands in town's forge as the apprentice. 

Harmon watched Harrow snort and pull a sparking hot chuck of steel, soon to be lovingly crafted into a weapon of the war, and chuck it at the returning scaly fucker, who thought it'd try a second shot at the boots with friends in tow. Sparks flared off the floor, shortly extinguished by the bucket of water that flew over and soaked the nearest dragon. It let out a shriek that deafened the pair and left eyes watering, and keeled over. Steam rose from its tiny little body as it writhed on the floor, its inner candle being put out. 

"Would think a dragon would be at least a bit water resistant, wouldn't you" muttered Harmon as she grabbed it and chucked into the flames of the forge. 

"I heard their realm is all fire and broken earth" replied Harrow "and that they burrowed so far into the ground they found the underworld". 

"The underworld's a fucking myth, and you know it Harrow" Harmon laughed in reply "everyone wants an explanation to where the Warlocks came from, but a world under a world isn't it. Pretty sure every Warlock I've seen came from between a woman's legs just like the rest of us." 

"Yeah well, they sure seem to like trying to climb back up there".

The pair shared a chuckle at that.

"I'm calling it for the day Harrow, some of us don't get food bought to us you know. Don't forget the dragon in your forge", said Harmon as she threw down the leather she had been turning into a sheath. Her stomach grumbled at the thought of fresh bread and the meat waiting for her at the butchers. She stood up and pulled her apron off, throwing it on the table. Harrow threw her a wave, Harmon returned it and headed out into the dusky streets.

Yaris was a small town, only on the map because it had a realm stepper, though admittedly no one really knew where it went. The occasional Warlock stepped through every few years, and returned with his mouth shut and slightly disheveled robes. The butcher's boy, Sol, thought it might be a realm of naked women and naked morals, too much for even the Warlocks to handle. Harmon thought Sol should have his balls set alight. 

Thoughts of the realm stepper rarely plagued Harmon's thoughts anymore as she walked the path to the butcher's, her steps firm and sure despite the tiny craters created by the dragons napping in the sun, super-heating themselves to the point of melting stone. She filled the hours of her day in the blacksmiths, and then at the inn drinking, her hacked off dark hair and blacksmiths clothes making her far from a presentable lady that should be home after sunset. Tonight though, she stepped into the butcher's, tossing a coin to Sol behind the counter before he could open his filthy little mouth, and grabbed the package on top of counter. Securing it under her arm, Harmon then carried on down the streets, towards the shack leaning at a perilous angle towards the brothel.

"Haaarmon!"

A wince graced Harmon's face, as the disgustingly sweet voice floated from behind her. She lengthened her stride in an attempt to escape, and suddenly ran face first into a cloud of lace, perfume, and rouged cheeks.

"How the fu-"

"Harmon! Trying to run from me, how naughty. You haven't been to visit since that night you know". Selest flounced indigently, the acres of white lace surrounding her seeming to have a mind of its own. 

"Look, uh, you se-"

"Don't start with me, you said you woul-"

"Selest!" Harmon exclaimed "it was one night! I don't like women, but, well, you know, a few pints and it's good enough for a few coin! Bloody leave me alone!".

Harmon wasn't sure how it was possible for lace to look sad, but fuck, it was definitely managing it. Selest sank down, her large lined eyes starting to water and run, leaving streaks of glowing porcelain skin where it fell. This definitely was not what Harmon intended. This was definitely a sign to stop frequenting the inn so much. Damn pints. 

"I'm not apologizing for what I said" 

"I'm the best here! You selfish little drunkard, I hope a dragon gets your tongue and chews it to a crisp and forces you to eat it, throw it back up, and eat it again! I hope you drown in your damn tankard and spend the rest of your days cleaning the shit of a Warlock!" Selest screamed at Harmon, her voice so high and shrill the nearby dragons squeaked in return.

The worst wasn't over yet however, as Harmon spotted the madam of the brothel storming towards her, fierce gaze locked onto the cause of harm to one of her darling girls. Absolute fear rattled through Harmon's bones as she stumbled backward, desperate for an escape from the cloud of rage and violence relentlessly coming towards the pair. Selest cackled like the little whore she was as the madam raised her cane, and cracked Harmon across the skull.

Harmon felt the blood start to run down her face before the darkness took over, and everything faded to black.