Daes Dae'mar

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"Think a thousand times before you say yes to anything."
-Anuj Jasani
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~While the mercenaries gathered the goblin corpses into a pile to burn, two nearly identical men sat nearby in uncomfortable silence. Despite the claim made by the man sitting next to him - the man who had just saved Jay Omega's ass - the fact was that Janus von Megar was most definitely not the Bloody Baron whom Omega had sought an audience with. However it seemed Jean-Michel Leloup was no longer among the living; his title and lands were quietly claimed by von Megar shortly after the baron's death. That was partly what bothered Jay so much, though.

"You're supposed to be dead." Omega stated bluntly, finally breaking the silence between them.

"The same couldst be said of thee," the Baron replied evasively, before he ducked his head in concession, "But such is not the answer thou seeketh. An explanation doth be forthcoming, but the forest doth have ears whose masters I wouldst not wish to overhear matters of import. If thou wouldst join me in my humble abode, I shall have a light repast prepared whilst I provideth thou with what knowledge I can."

"Oh Hells no," Jay began, shaking his head vehemently, "I would rather sleep naked under a manure cart than go anywhere with--"

"Fook that, bruv!" interrupted Jack Hampshire, approaching from Omega's other side, "I've had enough of the so-called great outdoors to last me a fookin' lifetime, and these mercenaries might as well eat boiled dog shite for every meal; I am fookin' ready for some comfort and fine food."

"Might not be so ready if you knew who we were dealing with, Jack." Jay's voice was tight with barely constrained animosity, and the glance he spared for his arcane ally advised attentiveness. It also caused von Megar to smile broadly, the expression made gruesome by his scarred visage.

"Come now, spoil not the surprise," the Baron admonished Omega, then turned to address Hampshire, "If it will help to allay your patron's fears, I wouldst be willing to submit to a binding, preventing me from committing any acts of aggression against thou whilst thou art visiting my realm."

Jack considered the offer thoroughly, silently asking Jay's opinion with a raised eyebrow. For his part, Omega looked back and forth between the two magic users, then shook his head and threw up his hands.

"Fuck it," Jay said in exasperation, "If you want to believe this lying sack of shit, that's on you. Fine, we'll go, but when this turns into a shootout, I'm blaming you."

"Oi, that's not fair, bruv," Hampshire said with a wry twist of his mouth, "Fookin' half the situations you get into turn into fookin' shootouts, innit? At some point you gotta think maybe it's just you."

"So diplomacy ain't my strong suit; fuckin' sue me," Omega said, with perhaps a bit more snap than he intended, "Whatever, let's just get this over with, all right? Whistle up your magic carpet, or whatever ya got, Anus."

"The name is Janus," von Megar said testily, his friendly demeanor vanishing in a hideous scowl that was replaced with an approximation of an amicable expression so quickly, one might not have noticed.

"I know, I was just calling you an asshole." Jay replied, baring his teeth in what could only charitably be called a smile.

"Ah, yes, I can see why a shootout would be my fault." Jack commented drily.

"I didn't say it would be your fault," Omega explained, "I said I would blame you; there's a difference."

"Shall we away?" Baron von Megar interjected in a bored tone, "Or wouldst thou prefer to remain here and continue thy witty banter?"

Jay took a deep breath and held it while he made a placating gesture; upon exhaling he seemed much more calm, and spoke in an even voice, devoid of emotion.

"I'm ready," The Omega Man said simply, raising an admonishing finger in von Megar's direction, "But no blood magic; that shit makes me feel dirty inside."

"It truly would be the fastest way to--" Janus cut off as Omega whirled about, stabbing a finger into his chest to emphasize each word.

"No. Fucking. Blood. Magic." Jay's tone brooked no argument, and while the baron was reasonably certain he could vaporize Omega where he stood, he had his own agenda to forward. As such, von Megar simply bowed his head and spread his hands in acquiescence.

"As thou wish; I shall summon thestrals to convey us." As the baron's statement left his mouth, mercenary captain Harrigan Paikoh stepped up and shook his head.

"Apologies, m'lord," the grizzled veteran said in a surprisingly meek voice, "But my men are a superstitious lot, and they'll no get within a mile of your keep."

The Bloody Baron of the Northern Reaches met the mercenary's gaze and held eye contact until the battle hardened old warrior swallowed audibly and looked away. Another grisly grin pulled at the ruined half of von Megar's face, and he stepped closer to Paikoh.

"How fortuitous, then," Janus said, a venomous timbre to his softly spoken words, "As thee and thine were not invited."

Jay was about to intervene when the drumming of hoofbeats reached their ears, the sounds coming from the direction of the road. Several of the mercenaries nocked arrows to bows, a few others drew their swords; von Megar laughed at their apprehensiveness.

"Superstitious fools, indeed!" The baron muttered, mostly to himself, "'Tis but the noble steeds I summoned! Come, gentlemen; there is still a long ride ahead of us, so it's best not to dally."

Janus von Megar spun about, his crimson robe whirling dramatically, and set a brisk pace through the wood; Omega and Hampshire trailing along just close enough to keep him in view, but distant enough to converse without being overheard. Jack sidled up to Jay as they made their way out of the forest proper, casting a globe of light above them to ease their passage.

"All right, spill, mate" the mage whispered, just on the edge of hearing, "The way you've been talking makes me think this bloke isn't just this world's version of you."

"He's not; this world's Jay Omega - the real Janus von Megar - died three years ago," The Omega Man's jaw tightened as he bored a hole in von Megar's back with his gaze, "His... essence was consumed by an extradimensional entity with some fucked up name like Ardroc'numahni'sidorath, or some shit; knew him in my world, where I called him the Hardcore Maniac because that other shit's a mouthful. Dude's serious bad news and I had to put him down. Seems it didn't take."

"Ballpark it for me, bruv," Hampshire prompted, "What d'you think the odds are we'll have to kill him again?"

"Oh, a hundred percent, for sure," Omega said with conviction, "Ain't no way we're getting home without spilling some blood, now, Jack. But for now… he wants something, so he'll play nice. Just don't forget it's an act, and we might still get what we came for without too much extra trouble."

Jack of Shadows nodded his agreement, and the two men fell silent as they broke from the treeline. Standing in the road were three creatures which resembled horses at first glance, though their skeletal appearance made them seem closer to corpses than living creatures. The great, leathery wings - reminiscent of a giant bat's - added to their otherworldliness, as did the glowing red eyes and gleaming fangs. Jay warily stepped closer to his mount, inspecting the fangs from a safe distance. Less like a horse's muzzle, the thestral's head was more like a crocodile's snout, if the reptile had scales carved from jet.

The thestral lifted its head and sniffed at Omega, then tossed its head and snorted, exhaling a puff of foul smelling smoke in his direction. The Omega Man wasn't looking forward to this; he didn't know how to ride a regular horse, let alone a magical flying one, but he didn't have a lot of options. Jay hoisted himself up onto the horse, finding the space just behind the wings to be surprisingly comfortable, and took hold of the beast's mane. No sooner had he settled himself than the thestral launched itself into the air, with Omega hanging on for dear life.~

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"To be successful you need friends and to be very successful you need enemies."
-Sidney Sheldon
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*Welcome back, True Believers! What a show we have for you today! Sure, it's the same show as always, but who doesn't love having their eyeballs filled with visions of the magnanimous, the magnificent, the magnetic, the magpie, the Maggie Simpson--*

*I knew it was a mistake to let you do this on your own.*

*Hey! You said the third one was gonna be collaborative; get outta here!*

*Truth be told, I'm not sure there will be a third one.*

*Doesn't mean you can go back on your word; this promo's mine! I was just about to do the fade in. So we fade from a blank screen to find our favorite Red-Eye Jedi(Jay Omega, for the uninitiated) lounging in a red velvet wingback chair, situated in a swanky looking sitting room. Typically a pretty chipper guy, Jay's face is currently scowling, which is a pretty good indication that he's a little miffed about something.*

JAY OMEGA: What up, peeps? Don't mind the resting bitch face, I'm less than pleased with a situation I find myself in, but it don't pertain to the ring so I won't bring it up again. Instead, let's talk about what does pertain to the ring; the quartet of clowns management is making me mow down in order to get a shot at a singles title that I have no interest in. Not that there's anything wrong with or distasteful about the Supercontinental Championship, or current champion Corey Smith; I just thought that I had made it clear that I intended to pursue the tag titles, yet I still haven't been set up with a single tag match thus far.

*Omega shakes his head, and pulls his ever-present black cigarette case from the right pocket of his utility pants, and his gold Zippo from the left. Jay sparks up a blunt, then puts the items back in his pockets before exhaling in our direction.*

JAY OMEGA: And it's starting to be a bit of a pain in the ass, because - as Corey pointed out - I've got a paleolithic partner waiting in the wings, and Omegadon is getting antsy. Sidenote, I also have a pet dinosaur which I picked up during a most excellent adventure with my time travelling buddy, Johnny Reb. Little Corey is a microceratus, which is like a two-legged triceratops with no horns. And no, Mister Smith, he's not named after you. He's named after my old friend Corey Black, because he's tiny and he doesn't take powerbombs very well. But while we're not here to discuss the various reptiles in my life, the subject matter of scaly things does segue into talking about Chameleon.

*Omega hits the blunt again, taps what little ash there is onto the unseen carpet, and continues as he exhales.*

JAY OMEGA: So it seems I was right, Chammy - can I call you Chammy? No, don't answer, I'mma do it anyway - it seems I was right about how your emulation ability is surface level only. Of course, it's pretty hard to imitate someone you don't know a damn thing about, isn't it? Make no mistake, I am egotistical as fuck - hard not to be when you're this awesome - but if that's all you see when you look at me, boy howdy are you gonna get fucked up once the bell rings. I'm really not sure where to even begin correcting all your nonsense - or if I should bother - plus I'm also kinda high at the moment, so forgive me if I bounce around a bit; I ain't at home right now, so I don't have access to my usual means of doing this, and have to rely on the ol' unreliable memory. I'll start by trying to explain why I don't actually have infinite chances to meet the women I love for the first time.

*The Omega Man looks up and away for a moment, collecting his thoughts. After a contemplative toke from his blunt, he nods to himself and brings his attention back our way.*

JAY OMEGA: See, typically when I jump to a new universe for the first time, it sets off a BK-class Reality Emendation Wave which overwrites the personal history of whichever Omega lives there; there aren't many physical changes to the universe, but everyone remembers that Jay having done all the stuff I did. It can get pretty sad and confusing sometimes, especially when I jump to a universe where that Jay never left Earth; lightyears away the princess of an interstellar empire suddenly has memories of marrying some random alien, an interplanetary assassin remembers being romanced by an interspecies couple, a tetradextrous bounty hunter recalls being thoroughly embarrassed by someone he's never met. Doesn't matter what actions are taken after that point, the memories are there and they don't go away when I do.

*Jay hits the blunt and ashes on the carpet again, then sits forward with his forearms on his knees.*

JAY OMEGA: It's actually a point of contention between me an' the Director, the douchecanoe who made it so; it's ruined the lives of more than a few of me, some of them better men than I. That's right, I ain't even the best version of me I could be; I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and got suckered into an existential war across the Multiverse. Yaysies. Regretfully, that responsibility doesn't really allow much time for humanitarian efforts. But even if it did, sure, I could devote my considerable resources to curing cancer, or whatever, but why stop there? There are billions of inhabited planets in the galaxy, why don't I also cure all their illnesses, solve all their problems? Fuck you, that's why. It ain't my responsibility to pull Humanity out of whatever shit hole they're in, no matter which universe. I'm a nice enough guy, being a Canadian expat and all, but I am a mercenary, and I don't work for free. Why ain't you using your imitative abilities to better the world? You could impersonate any world leader - supposedly flawlessly, though I've seen precious little evidence of that claim - impersonate any world leader and enact policies for the betterment of mankind. But here you are, sucking at being me harder than you suck at being you.

*Omega snorts and rolls his eyes before taking several small hits from the blunt in rapid succession.*

JAY OMEGA: But you don't know who you are, do you? You're just a poor, faceless victim in all this, ain't ya? Dancing to the off-key tune of a hypocritical pseudoscientist with small ambitions and a narrow view. Like, how the fuck am I supposed to consider you a credible threat, when your tormentor-slash-puppeteer doesn't even consider you a person? It's no wonder you have to imitate the identities of others when you don't have one of your own. Poor Secret Agent Man; they've given you a number and taken away your name. Of course, if you actually were some kind of secret agent, that would raise you a few notches in my estimation; that would be a reasonable use of your talent for mimicry. Instead you're here for reasons murkier than my own; like, the end goal is to just use people's schtick against them because anything they can do, you can do better? Well, except exhibit any semblance of originality or independent thought, that is.

*Another hit of the blunt, and more ash tapped onto the presumably expensive carpet; clearly Jay is doing so to be a dick, since there's a large crystal ashtray on the cherry wood table to his left.*

JAY OMEGA: For instance, just taking a pot shot at my loss to Lycana, that's some low-hanging fruit that I'd expect a rookie to go after, sure. But the way you try to tear her down and present Lycana as some bottom feeding flubtrash, and me as incompetent for losing to her… like, do you not know who Lycana is? I ain't gonna hype her up or anything, because she doesn't need it, nor am I gonna talk shit about her, 'cause she ain't involved in this, but she's a Hell of a lot more accomplished than you are, pal. For real, you accuse me of being selfish and egotistical, yet here you are acting like your shit don't stink, when you haven't even set foot in the ring yet. Confidence is all well and good, but you crossed into arrogance long ago, and that hubris is gonna come back to bite ya in the ass. Or at least, the general area of that Hefty bag outfit where an ass would be. Appropriate that your clothes resemble a trash bag, considering what's inside them. But speaking of you projecting, how 'bout that crack about my "aspirations to remain erudite"?

*Omega shakes his head and takes another hit from the blunt, now burned down to about half.*

JAY OMEGA: First of all, settle down, Wordy Harrelson; pretend you're talkin' to somebody who doesn't have an English degree. You're trying way too hard to sound smart, which is what I discovered you were accusing me of, once I looked up what "erudite" means. Turns out you're using it wrong, which makes you just as bad at faking intelligence as you are at imitating me. After that you said a bunch of other shit I didn't understand; not because I couldn't comprehend the words, but because the word salad just didn't make any fuckin' sense. I legitimately have no fuckin' clue what point you were trying to make, or what meaning your nonsensical ramblings were supposed to convey. Maybe I ain't smart enough to get it, or maybe you're just throwing out bullshit and seeing if anything sticks. I never claimed to be a genius, but I'm pretty sure it's the second one.

*The Omega Man hits the blunt once more, then grinds it out on the table beside him.*

JAY OMEGA: That's enough of that for now. Let's take a few moments to talk about someone else in this match who doesn't know the first thing about me; Dick Powers. The main difference between Dick and Chammy - aside from even Dick being more accomplished that Chammy - is that while Chameleon is simply ignorant, Dick is just fuckin' lazy. I know I should take some time to refute some of what he had to say, but honestly, it was all so far off the mark, he might as well have been talking about somebody else. At least he's smart enough to acknowledge that I would absolutely destroy him in a straight fight, not that that's saying much; a fifteen year old girl would destroy him in a straight fight, and probably provide better trash talk, too. I don't know what he thinks is going to happen at Fire and Ice if not a fight, though. Does he think we're all gonna gather around and whip it out for a measuring contest? Because I'll be honest, most of my dick is in my personality, and even then, I'll still likely outperform Powers.

*Jay leans back in his chair and hooks his right ankle over his left knee, slumping to the side to rest his head in his right hand.*

JAY OMEGA: Rampage still hasn't said anything, so I don't need to do more than reiterate that he's strong but slow, limited and predictable, and anyone with the slightest bit of experience against larger opponents should have no difficulty dealing with him. Hayato Okamoto has likewise remained tight lipped; a sign of nerves perhaps. Debuting in a contendership match on Pay Per View can put a lot of pressure on someone who's only been working the Japanese circuit for a year.

*Jay smiles lazily, in what you are just now learning is his trademark half baked half grin*

JAY OMEGA: That just leaves Corey Smith.

*Once again, Omega looks up and away to collect his thoughts, then drops his foot back to the floor and sits up straight, fixing a level gaze at the camera.*

JAY OMEGA: Zapp Brannigan?!? I don't give a fuck what anyone else thinks; that's the most cutting insult so far. I mean, I can kind of see it, but still, oof. Personally, I like to think I model myself after a combination of Han Solo and Commander Riker. Regardless, despite that one grievous act of disrespect, I still like you, Corey. I do want to set you straight about the cybernetics, though; see most people hear "cyborg" and think Terminator type shit, all metal bones and robot parts. But my synthetic parts are all in my skull, and all they're really good for is interfacing with my supersuit. Well, that, and I can stream Netflix in my head, but that's not really as great as it sounds.

*The Omega Man retrieves his pot smoking accoutrements from his pockets again, pulls another blunt from the seemingly inexhaustible supply, and sparks it up.*

JAY OMEGA: Respect and credit where they're due, I've gotta admit that I feel a small swell of pride knowing that I'm Corey's preferred opponent after the initial clusterfuck. It's gonna make smashing out Chameleon that much more satisfying. Now, I've got no problem letting you set the pace of the conversation, Corey; it's something I myself was adept at in my younger years. But I'm afraid I can't let you set the pace of our match. See, I'm going to be a little tired after busting Dick's balls, stopping Rampage in his tracks, out-Shonen-ing Okamoto, and being six shades of awesome more than Chameleon can hope to emulate; after all that, I'm gonna need to keep things slow and methodical so I don't run out of steam mid-match. Wouldn't want to hand you an easy win, after all. I don't know if this is another similarity between us or not, but personally, one of the easiest ways to piss me off is to hold back in a fight.

*Jay takes a deep haul off his fresh blunt, then uses it to gesture at the camera.*

JAY OMEGA: So when you and I step into that ring, inside the dome being constructed specifically for Fire and Ice, be forewarned that regardless of whether or not I like you as a person - and I do - once that bell rings, you are my opponent, and I will do everything in my power to win. I'm not gonna hold back because you're a good kid going through some tough shit. By the same token, I not only expect, I demand you come at me with everything you have; proclaim thy warrior's soul, as an old friend of mine used to say. To do any less is an insult to both of us. Plus it's pretty cathartic to just let everything flow with each strike. Then afterward we can hug it out like bros, and compare trauma peens in a healthy, therapeutic way. Spoiler alert, I have died twice, and fought my way through two different Hells. Those… those are unrelated experiences, by the way; I didn't die and go to Hell, I was actually alive both times. Well, the second time was I was just a projection of my consciousness on the Astral Plane after having been kicked out of my own body, but that's a wild story in its own right - best told over a couple of beers - which I'd love to tell ya some other time.

*Omega considers the blunt in his hand for a moment, then shrugs and looks back at us.*

JAY OMEGA: Well, I think that's enough stoned rambling for now, I'm gonna go see what kind of kitchen this asshole's got and make a mess, heh heh heh. I'll try and fulfill my contractual obligation to make one last promotional video, but I can't guarantee anything. Hopefully, I'll see ya later.

*The Omega Man gives us a smile and a cheery wave before making the "cut" motion with his left hand, causing the scene to fade to black. Wait, that's it? Where's the nudity? I was promised nudity, dammit!*

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"The nobles and the noble Houses maneuver for advantage. They do things they think will help them, or hurt an enemy, or both. Usually, it's all done in secrecy, or if not, they try to make it seem as if they're doing something other than what they are."
-The Great Hunt
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~They had landed atop the tallest tower of von Megar's keep shortly after sunrise, and Jay had been most grateful to feel the Sun's warmth on his back; Omega had been ill-prepared for how cold riding an undead, flying horse-thing through the night sky would be. Since then, he and Jack had been given the opportunity to bathe while their clothes were magically cleaned, and allowed the chance to rest comfortably if they desired. Hampshire had jumped on the chance to sleep in a bed again, and had been snoring within moments of his head hitting the pillow. Jay wasn't nearly so trusting of their host, and had chosen to remain awake; opting to make a promotional video for his upcoming wrestling matches instead.

After that he had made a trip to the kitchen with mischief on his mind, but had been stopped cold by the cook - or rather, the Mistress of the Kitchens, as she had haughtily declared herself in a thick brogue - a rotund woman with an iron gray bun and a large wooden spoon that had seemed more for directing her underlings than anything else. Only mildly disappointed, The Omega Man had requested breakfast and been served a hearty meal in short order. Now that Jack was also awake and fed, the two men had finally gotten around to explaining their situation, and asking von Megar for help. Surprisingly, he had agreed, for a price; it seemed he had a situation of his own, and was willing to trade his help for theirs. Omega had been less than pleased to learn just what that situation was.

"You want us to just kill a bunch of innocent people?" Jay asked incredulously, "How could you possibly think we'd agree to that?"

"Fool!" Janus von Megar cried dramatically, "I know better than to ask thee to go against thy delicate principles; these people are no more innocent than thou or I. No, we of the nobility understand that using innocent adventurers in our little game wouldst draw undesired attention; friends and family seeking closure and vengeance doth bode ill for secrecy, and we wish not to turn the common rabble against us."

The baron lifted the hose of an elaborate hookah and took a steady draw, the exhaled smoke a deep crimson shot through with flecks of sickly yellow.

"No, we either purchase convicts, or hire mercenaries; the kinds of people whom polite society doesn't ask questions about when they go missing." von Megar smiled cruelly as a black spot floated horizontally across his good eye, "Didst thou not wonder why thy hirelings were so fearful of my presence?"

"I just assumed it was 'cause you so ugly," Jay said glibly, then tilted his head in concession, "The again, you look pretty good, considering the last time I saw you, half your head was a gooey mess on the wall behind ya."

The baron gave a hideous smile, refusing to rise to the bait. Instead he took another draw from his hookah, then stood up and paced toward the room's marble hearth.

"I only wish for thee to prevent these miscreants from breaching my tower," Janus explained calmly, "Thou doth not need to kill them, if thou doth not wish to; simply prevent them from interrupting me whilst I complete some very important research."

"Okay, that doesn't sound so bad," Omega said uncertainly, "But I'm gonna need a little more; who are these people?"

The Bloody Baron allowed himself a small smile of self-satisfaction before he schooled his features to stillness and turned to face his guests.

" They're a small strike team hired by Countess Krystellia Nightbloom, Dark Sorceress of Ebonwood--"

"You people and your pompous titles." Jay said, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

"Said the Emperor of Entertainment, without the slightest hint of self-awareness." Janus snapped back, "To continue; this troupe of fiends is more a hastily assembled collection of individuals than a team; they're not likely to work well together. But their number is thy greatest threat, not cohesion. I hath provided dossiers for thee to peruse at thy leisure."

Von Megar waved a hand over the gilded coffee table and four parchments appeared, each detailing some information about the mercenaries in question. Omega picked up the closest one and unrolled it, recoiling at the unexpected sight of a diseased and misshapen penis. As Jay tilted his head, he realized that the picture was in fact a man's face, and blinked in surprise.

Johnson Armstrong Human Bard Stereotypically eternally horny Omnisexual Wanted in the Nations of Kem, Davross, and Theragetes for fifty-seven(57) counts of congress with livestock

Jay stopped reading and set the parchment back on the table, taking a moment to cleanse his mental palette before reaching for the next one. Omega was a little more careful in opening this one, lest he be surprised by another dickhead. The picture on the parchment was even more ugly than the previous one, though in a different way; pointed ears, skin a deep baby shit green, and a protruding jaw with small tusks jutting up out of a crooked row of rotting teeth.

”The Rage” - Real Name Unknown Half-orc Barbarian Stereotypically angry dullard Seemingly immune to unarmed attacks Wanted in the Nations of Kem, Theragetes, Ashmedol, and Elyr for three hundred twelve(312) counts of destruction of property, one hundred twenty-four(124) counts of drunk and disorderly conduct, four hundred forty-two(442) counts of assault, and two(2) counts of punching a town guard’s face inside out

That last one quirked Jay’s eyebrow, causing him to try to picture what it might look like to have one’s face turned inside out. The image his mind came up with was rather unsettling, so Omega shook his head to clear it, and traded the Rage’s dossier for the next in line. A fresh faced young man of indeterminate Asian descent looked back at Jay from the parchment.

Sum Khan Ji Human Monk Stereotypically taciturn Relatively inexperienced Wanted in the Nation of Kem for one(1) count of public preaching without a permit, and one(1) count of assault

That guy seemed rather mild in comparison; perhaps this was his first outing in the greater world of mercenary work? He would possibly be the easiest to convince to stand down without resorting to violence. Conversely, most of the so-called monks Omega had encountered in his time seemed like they had stepped straight out of a wuxia film, so perhaps that was something to watch out for here as well. The Omega Man retrieved the final scroll and unrolled the parchment, discovering a blank silhouette in place of a picture.

”Camouflage” - Real Name Unknown Changeling Fighter Stereotypically incoherent Known for mimicking opponents during combat Wanted in the Nations of Kem, Davross, Theragetes, Ashmedol, Elyr, Utswana, and Mydvahleir for too many crimes to be listed here

Jay handed the scroll off to Jack, who had begun reading out of boredom, then lit up a blunt and leaned back in his chair.

"All right, this doesn't seem too difficult at first glance," Omega said warily, “So clearly there’s got to be some sort of catch. You’re not going to tell me what it is, though, so if I’m gonna do this, I’m going in blind.”

“I do require an answer posthaste,” urged von Megar, his gaze darting to a large set of double doors at the far end of the room, “This research is time sensitive, and the curs have already broken through the lower dungeons, and slain my dragons.”

“Hang on,” Jack spoke up, the word dragon pricking at his ears, “Did you say dragons? As in plural? Like, more than one dragon? These four killed more than one dragon, and you want us to–”

“Verily, it shall not be so difficult an endeavor as thou might thinketh–”

“For Xor’s sake, will you stop talking like that, please?” The Omega Man interrupted impatiently, “It is so fucking pretentious and annoying, and I know you’re doing it on purpose.”

The Bloody Baron regarded Jay silently for a moment then sneered with a sour twist to his mouth.

“Fine, killjoy.” von Megar acquiesced, his tone much less medieval, “To clarify, Smrgol and Gorbash were Komodo dragons, but they were still good boys who didn’t deserve to be put down like that!”

Omega regarded the dossiers one last time, then turned his attention to the man wearing half his face.

“All right, I’ll buy you some time,” The Omega Man said reluctantly, “But before I do, you’re going to give me the help you promised, because I don’t trust you to follow through after I do my part.”

“How uncharacteristically wise of you.” the baron said tauntingly, “Very well, ask your questions, though I cannot guarantee you’ll like whatever answers I might provide.”~