Blood and Sawdust Pt. 1

A Mage Hunter Short Story

Hello! I got this piece completed at the skin of my teeth! Man, what a journey. Most of the problems I encountered were technical related sadly, but in spite of the delays, we got yourself a new hot short story! This will be a three part short story, so if you haven’t subscribed yet, be sure to so you won’t miss out!

Enjoy!

Part 2 | Part 3

A rude, thunderous boom rocked the once peaceful city of Eskanore. The explosion interrupted the pre-dawn slumber of the citizenry with its violent blast releasing tremors throughout the cobblestone streets and rattling ceramic mugs off shelves—if people weren’t stirred by the quaking boom, the burning, chemical stench that followed certainly would as it burned nostrils, chattered teeth, and inflicted painful migraines. Above the city's patchwork of tiled roofs and weather-worn shingles, a plume of black smoke draped the stars, choking out the last moments of night.
Rion's bare feet slapped the cold wooden floorboards as he burst from his quarters, his hastily-donned robe catching the chill morning air as his sandals protected his delicate elven feet from the sharp ground outside. With his attire, the blue and silver badge of the mage hunter’s guild was all he had time to take, bouncing against his chest vicariously as it was hastily strapped. Around him, the streets filled with an unusual crowd… Crowd? This early? He barely had time to put on clothes, certainly there was no time to question why these citizens are out at this hour.
The silver-haired elf surveyed the scene with his ancient eyes, once witnessed to many similar disasters in his centuries of service. Those very eyes watched the greedy flames quickly consume the nearby buildings, painting hues of orange and red across the panicking faces that fled their homes, screams echoing through the roaring flames for either their loved ones or releasing pain from the hellish burns. There were many wounded, and a few seemingly unconscious or dead. The acrid smoke caught in his throat, making his eyes water, but beneath it his keen elven senses detected something else.
Rion was light-footed, navigating his sandals around the shards of glass and splintered wood as he aided the panicked victims. Many were injured, and sadly many seemed to have perished. It wasn’t long until the city guards came in to investigate and help those in need. The fire was thankfully quelled right on time thanks to the help of elementalists, sparing the neighboring buildings from a similar fate of that of the sawmill. The mage hunter lent his strength, aiding an injured grandfather towards safety, until a familiar voice interrupted, "Oi! Your kind usually sleep till noon. What got ye’ out of your silk sheets so early, tree-hugger?"
The familiar voice cut through the chaos, bringing an unexpected smile to Rion's lips. Jorghan's heavy boots announced the dwarf's approach, each step accompanied by the musical chiming of steel rings woven through his beard. The enchanted maul on his back thrummed with protective magic, sending ripples through the air that made Rion's pointy ears pop.
"Ahh, so that was you who caused this explosion," Rion called back, breaking the grim atmosphere with a joking grin, wrinkling his nose theatrically, "eat too many rocks again? I warned you they would upset your stomach." Their laughter, though brief, cut through the grim atmosphere like a knife through smoke. The moment passed quickly as they turned to survey the destruction before them. As the Elementalists finished quelling the violent flames and fanning the smoke with wind magic, and the guards and priests gathered all the wounded, the air filled with steam, creating a ghastly fog that wrapped around their ankles.
“What a miserable sight. What’s going on ‘ere brother?”
"Six dead so far," Rion reported with a cold voice, “and a dozen more injured currently being treated.” He paused as his senses tuned to the scene once more. With suspicion and a quick a gesture, his eyes flared sapphire blue. What revealed to him was a magical residue painting the scene in twisted ribbons of green and blue energies, writhing like breathing tentacles all across the planks of wood and coating the smoke in a layer of its sparkling arcana. "So it was magical in nature…” Rion muttered mostly to himself, crouching to examine a piece of charred wood that carried that identical signature.
“The explosion?”
"Yeah. But not elemental. There's something... organic about it."
Jorghan's boots crushed charred wood as he moved closer, his broad nose twitching, "then it must be alchemy, given this scent. Gah! This whole place reeks! But why would a lumber mill need an alchemist?"
“Good question…” Rion paused again. Thanks to the situation now under control, he now had time to recall what he noticed upon his arrival.
Right as he was about to analyze the events, Jorgund exclaimed, “WAIT LADDIE! We shouldn’t be here! We should be evacuating! Gods know what sort of filthy magic this smoke may have!”
“No, relax. The magic here is latent. The explosive reaction must’ve expended the mana.” Rion sighed in relief. An active cloud of alchemic magic would have been a disaster for these residents. Who knows what the purpose of this alchemy was, and when it comes to magic, nearly anything is possible.
The mage hunter recollected his thoughts again, this time without interruption. In spite of the initial chaos, his seasoned mind learned to pick up key details. All those who fled the mill appeared to be gruff, and were likely are part of the carpentry guild that frequents the mill. After all, no one else would be here at these hours. However, some of them had blood stains plastered on their clothing. Sure, the explosion would pelt skin with lashing splinters, but that didn’t explain the bloodied axe one of them was carrying.

The amount of soot and wood they had to sift through proved to be laborious, straining muscle and patience alike. The sawmill was stubborn on its supports, and no one knew how much time before the structure completely fails. Each step brought fresh horrific sights: splinters of wood driven deep into walls like arrows, everywhere that headache-inducing chemical scent remained prevalent, and of course, more bodies, charred beyond recognition. During their arduous effort, a junior investigator called the mage hunters to a partially collapsed office. Beneath the cunningly hidden floorboards, a case of crystal vials was uncovered, containing ominous, iridescent liquid, each marked with an unmistakable symbol: a leaf embracing a crescent moon, pierced by a single thorn. "Druids of Jubilee," Rion sighed, the words bitter on his tongue. "Of course. Their mess has been spreading through this city lately."
"Explains the alchemy," Jorghan added. "But why’s this stash in a lumber mill of all places?"
“Let’s find out.”

It took no time for the mage hunters to find Henrik Vale, the sawmill's owner. Spouting an attitude when they discovered him drinking at a nearby tavern, he eventually agreed to the interrogation. Thanks to the assistant priest of Yul, the Zone of Truth's divine radiance crumbled his lies faster than his mill. His brow was coated in frustration, pain, as well as sweat that beaded on the orc's bruised, green skin while incantation burned his throat, forcing the truth from unwilling lips – revealing a troubling state of affairs. "That damned elf…" Vale spat, “should have never listened to her… Ngh...” He stalled, but Yul hates liars, and she forced his tongue, “I lead the Carpenters Guild. Honest business, I swear! Ngh! But… six months ago, an elf by the name of Dizalle offered these…special oils.” His words drawn out like splinters. The more he tried to stall and deceive, the harsher the searing pain in his throat and tongue grew, "Ngh…said it’d boost productivity, and promised it would double my profits. We built hidden compartments, secret rooms across the city for them in return, as well as a cut."
"What went wrong?" Rion pressed.
"It worked…for a time. Then the Jubilee demanded more! And the effects of their oils were being diluted! Now my boys can’t even output the amount of lumber we used to before this mess, and they’re growing addicted to this crap!" Vale's voice cracked, "we both agreed to reconcile with the Thieves Guild as a mediator, but something went wrong. The meeting turned violent, and someone must have damaged one of the storage caches during the scuffle..." Rion and Jorghan exchanged glances. A gang war between magical drug dealers and a gang of carpenters was bad enough. But if the Thieves Guild was involved, this explosion was likely just the beginning.

"Aye Wonderful," Jorghan grumbled, metal rings clinking as he stroked his beard concluding their interrogation. "Just what we need – criminal carpenters and magic mushrooms addicts bloodying our streets."
"Well…on the bright side," Rion offered with a grim smile. "At least you got something more to look forward to, outside of chugging ale and playing dress-up with your beard."
"Hah! Piss off pointy ears!" The dwarf spat, the glob sizzling slightly when it hit the still-warm ground. "Ye’ kind wouldn’t know a good time even if it clobbered ye across the face.” The jesting abruptly ended with a hefty sigh. “Aye…This is going to turn into a bloody mess soon. What’re our next steps laddy?” A war for Eskanore's underworld had begun, they knew the city would burn before it ended, so they had to act fast.
“We got our options.” Rion was thankful for the (unwilling) cooperation of the carpenter’s guild leader. Perhaps with him in custody, they could avoid much broader conflict, in spite of three warring factions now at each other’s throats. Without their leader, the carpenters would be easier to pacify. Jorghan’s concerns, however, were still legitimate, and he agreed they had to act now.

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