The Crows Burden

Crowe stared at his helmet while listening to the chanting inside the arena. Crowds like this always long for blood, and it doesn’t matter who’s is spilled so long as the masses are sated. As he stared into the slits of his helmet, his sins stared back. The chanting faded away as Crowe lost himself in the memories until He heard the faintest whisper echoing inside his mind. “Are you ready?” the voice whispered as the chanting got louder. Crowe startled to reality and hesitated to answer before he muttered “not particularly, however jobs a job”.

“You keep staring at that helmet as if you could change the past through force of will.”

“… How did you know I was reminiscing?”

“Crowe, you forget, we are more than mentally linked. I can sense your agitation of what the future holds for us, however that remembrance will only slow you.”

“Your right as usual my friend.” Crowe chuckled as the whisper once again reminded him that he was never alone. Gates at the rear of the bloodwork’s started to draw open signaling the start of the bout. Crowe stood up, shook his head free of distractions and donned his helmet. A glint of fire could be seen inside his eyes as he walked out into the blistering heat of the arena. The roar of the crowd grew ever louder with each step he took, yet the cry of a falcon cut through the din as it passed overhead. “Anything I should be aware of?” Crowe asked, the arrogance returning to his voice.

“good turnout, honestly, these guys must be a crowd favorite! By the way, we are getting paid for this job, right? Well anyway, there are two waiting. That’s all I can get” the voice whispered again.

“Why do I keep you around again?” muttered Crowe. Crowe approached the two figures he would be facing in the arena. One on his left was wearing shiny plate armor, a full-face helm and carried a large round shield with a brutal mace. To his right the second opponent was kneeling in the sand a hood covering his face and tattoos encircling his arms. From Crowes position the kneeling enemy appeared to be some sort of mage that has been reading a ritual, meaning he’s the dangerous one.

Crowe reached out in front of him pulling a javelin out of thin air. The gleaming knight watched in increased interest as Crowe flung the javelin at his comrade. The knight sprinted over and barely caught the projectile on his shield, after the impact the javelin merely faded away to the knight astonishment. Not wasting any time Crowe slashed his right hand in front of him. At the end of the motion, he held a burning axe. With a bloodcurdling war cry Crowe charged forward.

Before he could close any distance, the voice boomed in Crowe’s head “Boss behind you!” Crowe turned to see a bleached skeletal hand breach the arena floor. All around Crowe more were stumbling up and gripping ancient weapons. The falcon screeched as it watched the ongoing melee. Skeletons lumbered towards Crowe, swinging wildly with all manner of weaponry. Several blows glanced off Crowes armor before one by one smoldering fell before Crowes furry. Crowe glared at the hooded enemy, as more bleached bones broke the surface to replace the fallen. Rising from his ritual the hooded one snickered. “I knew we pissed someone off. But never would I have imagined they would send you after us! Oh, but we won’t make this easy for you, Crowe!” He spoke the name Crowe almost like a curse. The knight who towered over the skeleton army was quickly getting bored of playing bodyguard for his friend. With a disgruntled huff he Lunged forward to deal with Crowe personally.

Dispatching the endless horde of undead was draining Crowe. Luckily, opportunity presented itself in the form of a shiny armored tank barreling towards him. Crowe grinned under his helm and focused on the charging rhino. Taking a step forward Crowe sent his axe arcing towards the knight, only to have it bounce off his armor then fade from existence. That single second was all it took for a dagger to appear in Crowes hand. Crowe side stepped right as the Behemoth was upon him. As, the knight passed by crushing all undead in his wake, Crowe gracefully slashed at his hamstrings. Crimson blood spurted from the wound as the knight came crashing down.

Slowly Crowe turned to the necromancer the burning axe back in his grip. The crowd in the stands cheering wildly at the unexpected battle of magic and combat mastery. Crowe stepped forward as the necromancer ordered the skeletons to kill him. Undead proved ineffective to Crowes unending arsenal of weapons. Before his enemy could raise more soldiers for his army, Crowe was upon him. Unused to anyone getting so close the necromancer stumbled backwards and landed on his back. When he looked up, he saw the blade against his throat and felt a heat that threatened to scorch him. Spitting in defiance the mage glowered at Crowe. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get on with it!” Crowe knelt so that he was eye level.

“Oh, I don’t want to kill you. I want to hire you.”