Mound of the Lizardmen

Lizards that walk like humans, evil beasts,
Ravage farmers livestock every moonless night,
Clear the fens of the lizardmen,
Total pay 100 silver, and an extra 20 per scalp.
The employer is not responsible for loss of life or damages incurred.

The words of the contract ran across Quixota’s mind as she stepped on the creature’s scaled chest and slid her sword through its leathery chest. Time stopped, for a moment, as if it ran out of breath.

The dank soil of the lizardmen’s barrow sucked crimson juice seeping from the reptilian corpses scattering its surface. Quixota wiped her sword and nodded to companions with approval, she’d chosen well. Rulok’s fought viciously an old priest, and whatever occult forces Parsifal was playing with were quick and deadly. With the barrow cleared, they could be back to the Keep by dinner tomorrow, payment in hand, and celebrate a job well done.

A whimpering hiss jerked Quixota from her reverie. A small group of the decrepit creatures huddled in the corner. Two larger ones, more slender then the ones slain, wrapped their arms around a now jumping and hissing batch of lizardlings.

Quixota felt her companions tense and stalk forward. “Stop!” She cried. “They are mothers protecting their young.”

Parsifal, the little shit just scowled as he counted the runts, “Contracts said to rid the fens of them no exceptions. Five or six more scalps doesn’t hurt either.”

Parsifal began chanting primeval incantations of a spell likely to obliterate the lizardlings but keep their skins intact. Quixota commanded again for him to stop but he ignored her his voice speaking the incantations with hasty vigor. Quixota lunged, sword drawn.

“Quixota no!” Rulok gasped as she had sliced the occultists head from his body. But it was too late. 

Parsifal’s mouth formed the final syllable of the incantation. As his headless body collapsed to the floor, his arm jerked with necrotic power and lobbed a greenish hue that settled peacefully around the lizardlings. They screamed as Quixota saw their eyes melt in their sockets, but their flesh remained intact as they burned from within.

Rulok backed away from Quixota, his mace raised defensively. “You murdered our companion just doing his job? These were evil creatures, we were sanctioned to kill by the grace of God. Let them grow and would murder man.”

“What makes them evil Rulok? These creatures hunt, raise families struggle to survive, how are they so different from us.”

Rulok looked at her like she was a child in need of basic explanation. “We are contract adventures on the borderlands, our coin is made by conquering so humans can settle. Those who threaten our existence are naturally evil as we are blessed by God.”

Then, Quixota heard a scuffle, a small squeak among the cindered bones. One lizardling, a runt, still alive. The others must have shielded him from the toxic spell. Quixota yanked the cloak from Parsifal’s corpse and grabbed the lizardling from the bodies of its kin. She held it tightly . “I’ve got you.” She whispered.

“Quixota, what will you do with that lizardling?” the priest moved closer, pleading with her. Quixota lunged forward shooting her free arm out and knocking the priest to the ground. “Get back Rulok.” She said calmly.

He grunted in pain and gave her a horrified look. “You will be charged with murder. You can never to the Keep or the Human realm, you know that.”

She nodded. “The I will not be returning to civilization.”

Rulok shook his head. “You will die out here alone Quixota. My she have peace on your soul.” He hurried toward the borrow entrance and didn’t turn back. Quixota turned toward the lizardling in her arm, its bulging reptilian eyes were wide and black, “how could one so young be evil?” 

She took two ends of the cloak and wrapped the young lizardling to her back, the way she had done with her own children so many years ago. She trudged to the swampy surface of the lizard man’s borrow. The sun still struggled through the fog and weeping trees, a few hours of daylight left.