Reinhardt Wilhelm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hammernhasslehoff) wrote2017-11-05 06:14 pm
hammernhasslehoff) wrote2017-11-05 06:14 pmSnazzy Jazzy OPEN POST LAND
Wherein Reinhardt time is All The Time.
hammernhasslehoff) wrote2017-11-05 06:14 pm
Saving Lil' Kim
And hell, anything was better than retirement.
But as it so happened, Overwatch had not actually sent him anywhere. He'd gone out in full armor to engage in battle, had been on his way to the point and...
Then he wasn't in Eichenwald anymore. No, no it was a lot darker... in here. Also quieter, no pings of bullets hitting walls or his armor, no whirring of robots or cries of battle or... much of anything that would say FIGHT GOES HERE.
It was unnerving to see through the helmet dozens of blood red eyes though, dark skinned, white haired people here and there. Were... those elves? Were those elves was he looking at elves what the heck was going on here.
He would have asked but the woman at the front, who was very hard to ignore, her plunging neckline seemed to demand to be stared at, gestured sharply at a far more diminutive figure bound at the center of the room.
"Kill him."
... Wait no what was going on here what had he stepped into this was not orthodox. All seven foot four of the crusader straightened in surprise, his silence a byproduct of that, still trying to wrap his brain around what... the hell just... happened.
What.
Kill who?
Who are you?
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And yet, here Kimmuriel was. All because a priestess had taken offense to Jarlaxle aiding another house against her own.
Briefly, he entertained the thought of how much more furious she would be, had she known that house was actually Jarlaxle's own. Perhaps she would have murdered Kimmuriel by her own hand, regardless of the risk of his power, instead of calling this hellish creature to do it for her. Though as the moments passed by, with no attack, no indication that the creature had even heard the order...
Despite himself, Kimmuriel gave a soft, empty chuckle.
"You would summon the single deaf demon in all of the Abyss," he muttered with a glance at the priestess across the room, voice cold and humorless even as a bloody smirk briefly touched his lips. It still hurt to talk, and normally, he wouldn't have. Normally, in the presence of a priestess, he would keep his mouth wisely shut.
Normally, he wasn't bound and at their mercy, sentenced to die so that the only obstacle left in the way to Jarlaxle was Jarlaxle himself, and thus that final barrier of self-preservation was nowhere to be found. No, if he was going to die, he wasn't going to die cowering in the face of his executioner. And with a defiant look at the female, he turned his attention back to the armored giant she had summoned, dull red eyes staring it down.
At least, bound as he was, the shake of his hands would go unnoticed.
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Kill him, and even in the face of what must have looked like certain death, he still had the fortitude to utter what, apparently, would have been his last words, and they were still defiant.
Reinhardt hadn't intended on listening to the order anyway. But now, it seemed like the stage was set for some very, very delicious irony.
The priestess sneered at Kimmuriel, opening her mouth to deliver an insult... or a spell. Or a threat.
Frankly she never got that far. Reinhardt didn't really think, truthfully.
Her body was flung through the air like a meat filled rag doll with one careless swing of the hammer.
The briefest moment of horror and panic among the warriors was immediately taken advantage of. One man verses a room full of heavily armed, violent, professionally trained several hundred year old murderers.
They had swords, staves, arrows, spears and spells.
He had a hammer.
It was unfair really. They never stood a chance.
With a roar, the crusader dove into the pack, that hammer swinging left and right as weapons clattered uselessly against thick, technologically advanced armor. Anything that didn't simply bounce off was caught and snapped with one massive hand as if it was a tooth pick, anyone smart enough to flee having to dodge flaming balls of fuel hucked out from the rockets of the hammer.
And all the while, the crusader bellowed, taunts and jeers when attacks missed or failed, threats and challenges in German and English.
It was hard to say, when he was done, if anyone had lived. He'd not really paid attention to killing them all, inasmuch as he'd taken very, very good care to not let a single attack from anyone come within a foot of Kimmuriel. He wasn't even out of breath, and the room, save for a whole bunch of twitching, pulped bodies, was empty. Probably not for long, he did just start the worlds most lethal mosh pit in someone's very fancy castle.
... Should probably consider leaving, now that he thought about it.
Sorry Kim, he barely bothered with a warning-
"Come come, up up! We're overstaying the welcome." And up Kim was hauled, tucked into an arm before the crusader took off again.
Well.
This was A Day.
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The priestess was suddenly just...gone. And in the frenzied explosion of movement just a second after, many other drow followed in suit, the demon felling warriors left and right with broad, powerful swings of that massive hammer, and had he been a lesser drow, Kimmuriel is almost certain his jaw would have dropped at the sight of it. Had he been a lesser drow, he may have cowered away from the sight, as he hadn't with the priestess, if only to avoid being one of the poor bastards that ended up in bloody, broken piles of bones in the far corners of the room.
Perhaps he would have, if he hadn't noticed that through it all, the giant seemed to actually be protecting him. That hammer never came close to the psionicist, and neither did those other drow that thought they might curry favor with their house to finish what the priestess had failed to.
Had he been more inclined to, he would have laughed. As it was, all he could do was watch the chaos unfold around him, a small, dark flicker of satisfaction in his eyes, and he thought for a moment of how Jarlaxle would appreciate the story, if he made it back to Bregan D'aerthe in one piece.
If, of course, being the key word. Because no sooner had the last drow body fallen lifelessly to the ground then did the demon finally turn back to him, and...
And he was swept up. Very high up, a startled noise sticking in his throat, but instead of being thrown, or crushed, or any other number of scenarios he may have met his end in, he was...held protectively, against the hard steel of the creature's strange armor, and frankly Kimmuriel wasn't about to question the sheer insanity of the moment so long as it meant that he would escape this Lolth-damned house alive.
It was instinctively that he curled into the hold, grimacing against the pain in his limbs and struggling anew to try and work his hands out of the bonds holding them behind his back. If the demon was going to be his new ally, he wished it had taken a moment to at least do that much for him before scooping him up, but even now he wouldn't press his luck.
"Upstairs." Said with the tone of an order, and one he expected to see followed, red eyes looking up at Reinhardt with an intensity that hid how much pain he was still in. "Others will have heard the commotion. But we need to get out of the house, do you understand?"
Because if he could just get somewhere to open up a portal and get back home...
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He'd just forgotten it. Heat of the moment, and it was still going, he wasn't really thinking too hard about if Kimmuriel was still bound. Stopping to untie him right now would mean giving the rest of this place time to find him, and Reinhardt didn't have a knife on him.
Untying shit was hard with those huge goddamn gauntlets on.
Upstairs he went, the roar of rockets sounding as more drow either scattered from his path or grimly and ultimately futilely attempted to slow him. More crunching as the hammer did its work, the crusader easily plowing through them. They were not, after all, omnics, and in comparison to his own armor, the drow here would find themselves sorely lacking in both physical power and defense.
What looked like an awkward, underhanded swing of the hammer turned out to be a method of forcing it to eject more fuel, he'd run out soon but the fire seemed to be doing a damn good job of clearing the way. These little elves didn't appear to care much for the blazing light.
Nor, did it seem, did they care for the shield, as more than once did it need to be activated, bathing both Reinhardt and Kimmuriel in its protective light, arrows and spells either bouncing off or breaking on contact.
"We are upstairs! These doors are poorly marked, kleiner freund, I don't know where to go."
Not... that this was stopping him. Rockets were going once more but uh... they weren't on the hammer as he set his shoulder down.
"This is fine.
We'll make an exit!"
PARTY TIME.
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He couldn't seriously be suggesting what Kimmuriel thought he was suggesting. Could he?
Distracted as he had been between trying to work free of his bonds and watching with vicious satisfaction as Reinhardt crushed and set fire to everything and everyone in his path, the small drow was almost sure he had heard the creature wrong. Had hoped he had, head snapping up to that masked face in alarm.
And even without an expression to see, he knew that, no, he had heard the words exactly right.
"Wait-" Except he wasn't waiting. And in a brief, real moment of panic, Kimmuriel acted.
The kinetic barrier enveloped them only a heartbeat before Reinhardt barreled straight through the hard stone wall, the giant of a demon taking the impact as if it was nothing. Yes, he certainly had made an exit; a jarring one, the psionicist somewhat shaken, and from the looks of the drow standing where they had just come in through, he wasn't been the only one.
That time, the demon didn't need its hammer. Even if Kimmuriel had the energy left to maintain the kinetic shield, he wouldn't have bothered to, and all at once he let it fall, releasing the energy from Reinhardt's breakthrough on the shocked drow in front of them. Watched as their armor and their bodies beneath it caved in, as if crushed under a great impact, and fell boneless to the ground.
He slumped heavily against his new companion's chest, head spinning.
"And now the entire blasted estate will know we've escaped. Well done."
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That kinetic shield though... that was impressive. He liked that! The way cleared for them, for now at least, Reinhardt started down the hall, knowing full damn well that he'd woken up the entire estate. Which was, frankly, fine with him.
"Sehr gut! Now I will not be bored, ja? Take a nap, I will tell you when the rescue is done." And yes, he was serious with that too, the rockets gunning on the armor and the hammer as the hall filled with the sounds of alerted guards and warriors.
"Pick a good dream!"
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For a moment, he was bitterly disappointed that he hadn't been able to kill the priestess himself, for leaving him so weak.
A nap, however, was out of the question. Nevermind that the small drow had far more pride than that, but falling asleep in the presence of a demon? That was plain suicide, no matter how powerful one might have been. The bizarre rescue didn't change that fact, and Kimmuriel would be damned if he managed to escape one execution only to die at the hands of the overzealous creature holding him now. After all, it had no sense of discretion. If they were overwhelmed, weakened or no, Kimmuriel would still need to help Reinhardt fight them off.
It was a shame that the rest of his body didn't agree with him.
He didn't even realize he had passed out until much, much later.
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Out of the question, he said! Won't do it, I will not, he cried! Okay then. Well Reinhardt did his best not to shake him hard as he felt Kimmuriel go limp in his arm, every attack deflected carefully away from his small charge.
Don't worry, Kim. He won't make fun of you for this. You were, indeed, very brave.
When the drow awoke, he'd find himself untied, and carefully wrapped up in a thick, warm cloak. The thing was massive, lined with fur, probably large enough to cover a bed. A small fire had been started, and Reinhardt's hammer lay close by.
And Reinhardt?
He looked like he was just getting back from something. Hunting, by the looks of the dead creature he dragged behind him. No he had no idea what it was, just that it was a beast and might taste good, may as well. He was starving, and he was sure Kimmuriel might be too.
They were, it seemed, a good distance away from the city, no sign of any other life in sight.
"How is your head?"
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He had to when he realized that despite how comfortable he'd been made, there was no sign of him being back in Bregan D'aerthe. The caves were too quiet, the bustle of Menzoberranzan nowhere to be found, and it was with a small amount of alarm that the psionicist forced himself to sit up, barely suppressing a soft groan, and looked around for...
Ah. The demon was still there. And looked entirely uninjured, somehow having walked out of the house and the city without a mark on him. It was more than a little impressive, he thought, as he eyed Reinhardt and the beast he dragged back with him.
"It is fine." Except for the throbbing, though of course he wasn't going to admit that. And running a hand through his hair it wasn't hard to see why, flakes of dry blood coming away from his scalp.
A very brief message was sent across the mental link shared with Jarlaxle, to inform the older male that he was in one piece, and would return eventually. The question of when was left hanging in the air as Kimmuriel looked back to Reinhardt, dull red eyes studying the giant with a thoughtful look. He didn't think he had any reason to fear the creature, after this; he couldn't imagine a demon would see him released and looked after if it truly meant him harm, no matter how bizarre a thought that was.
Perhaps something in the priestess's summoning had somehow twisted its mind. Perhaps she hadn't actually called a demon. She had been young, after all, arrogant as any female and dabbling in spells she clearly had no power to control. In all honestly, it wouldn't have surprised him to know that the spell had been a complete failure.
"Although after that display back there, it would be unwise to return to the city so soon," he continued, and surprisingly he sounded...less displeased than he probably should have. He was still tired, maybe, though it didn't show, expression blank as he looked over to his savior again, watching as the creature began to work on the beast. "What was that, exactly? Crushing that wretch's skull was understandable, but as for myself?"
...there might have been a note of gratitude in there. Somewhere. Maybe.
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The house had been destroyed, barely anyone left, most females killed and the ruling matron heavily injured. It was unsure if it was critical, it seemed that she'd been hurt as part of the building collapsed in Reinhardt's escape. In 'the rogue demon's' escape, rather. He sounded terrible interested... and concerned. He did, after all, want his second back.
As for Reinhardt, he took a seat across from Kimmuriel, letting the beasts body thump down upon the ground.
"Ja? I did not know your pomade was red." He knows you're bleeding, don't lie. But he doesn't press it, reaching up for his helmet as Kimmuriel asked about why, mostly. What didn't matter, that wasn't a real question for Reinhardt.
"I protect those who need it most. I am not an executioner." First of all.
With a click, the helmet loosened and then was pulled off, the features of the older, scarred, white haired and one eyed human made all the more pronounced and craggy in the firelight.
"And... I have no idea what happened, if I am to be honest with you! I was not supposed to be here."
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And without any warning to Jarlaxle, the link was terminated, Kimmuriel staring up at Reinhardt, red eyes a fraction wider.
That. That wasn't a demon. That wasn't even close.
That was a human.
That was, by far, the largest godsbedamned human he had ever seen.
Briefly, Kimmuriel looked from Reinhardt, to that massive hammer, and back again. Had he been any other drow? He might have laughed at the realization that a human had very nearly destroyed an entire noble house, all on his own. There was some sweet, delicious irony in that fact, and again, Kimmuriel found himself entirely disappointed that the priestess and so much of her family had been killed so quickly. What would the look on her face have been, had she known exactly what she'd summoned?
"No, I expect you weren't." For the love of the spider queen herself, he was going to tell Jarlaxle about this the moment he was safely back home. The smallest hint of a smirk touched his lips, gone too quickly as if it had never been there, before he shook his head with a sigh, instantly regretting it as the throbbing intensified. "To think an iblith could cause so much damage..."
Even Entreri couldn't claim to conquer an entire house on his own. It took a moment to fully wrap his head around, especially with the lingering pain, but eventually Kimmuriel just...let it go. He wouldn't be here without the man, he was well aware of that, as difficult as that was to admit.
"The aid isn't unappreciated. My captain could even reward you for it, if you wished."
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They were dead!
"Iblith? I do not believe I have heard that word before." And perhaps, that was for the best. Though honestly, even if he knew it was an insult, he'd probably just have laughed.
"I was headed into a fight, at home. Or else I feel perhaps I would have been less prepared for this unexpected excursion!" Yeah, no armor and just his bare fists might not have ended well, even for Reinhardt. He still had perfectly normal human skin after all.
"The only thing I want is to return you to your home safely, and then to return to mine. I do not need a reward for doing my duty. It is simply a basic expect-" A wet SHLORP as he yanked at the creature, managing to tear the head he'd mostly cut off completely away from the corpse.
"-tation."
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Barbarians. All of them.
"We will not be indebted to a human." The words weren't harsh, but Kimmuriel's tone tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. Arrogance, maybe, even in the face of this monster of a human, but he was reasonably certain that if the man had wished him harm, he would still be back in that damned house. In pieces.
It was a thought that had Kimmuriel look up at the man again, red eyes studying his face, his movements as he prepared the beast for the fire. Weakened as the psionicist was, he couldn't completely hide the cold pressure of his presence pushing into Reinhardt's mind, nor could he delve deeper than what was there on the surface. But there was nothing there to see. No sense of a threat. No hint of deceit.
That would have to be enough for now, and Kimmuriel swayed a little where he sat, shook his head as he pulled back from the man's mind.
"I can send you back where they summoned you from," he finally continued after a long moment, once again composed and confident in his voice. "When we return to Bregan D'aerthe, and I can rest properly. But until then, you could explain why you really aided me."
Because that was the biggest question right now, and Reinhardt's earlier answer hardly seemed believable. Allying with a drow for their strength was one thing. Rescuing one as weak as Kimmuriel had been, on the other hand, was a useless cause, no matter how one looked at it.
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Can't make an omelette without ripping the heads off a few dead animals. Or something.
"Then you are not!" Cheerful and upbeat, that comment, setting about cleaning and gutting the beast with careful efficiency.
"There, see? It is that easy. You are not in my debt."
No, nothing to be found in Reinhardt's head that would suggest any ill will. The only thing really going on in there was a list of parts that he could recognize in the carcass he was butchering that he knew were edible, wistful thoughts of stout, and a quiet reminder to take a bath when he could manage it.
Also home, thinking a bit about home here, since, you know, he'd like to be there.
The crusader looked up as Kimmuriel swayed, apparently oblivious to the cold pressure that had begun to intrude into his head. A migraine, he'd written it off as, or at least the beginnings of one. It'd been a trying day after all.
"Are you okay?" Don't mind him just ignoring that question for a moment, watching the little elf carefully for a moment. "If you feel lightheaded, you can sleep again. I will wake you when dinner is finished."
Dinin Has a Babysitter
Although at first, he had not even known that. The years of torture--Dinin had no way to know how long it had been--had taken their toll on him. Dinin had come to the world almost comatose, and had to crawl his way back to awareness. To relearn how to use his body, how to speak again, how to do everything once more.
Without a question, he was taken care of. An alien, they called him. They could have not been more right. Dinin found himself being treated in ways he could have never imagined nor dreamed of. Treated with compassion and caring--two things he still didn't understand.
It had been a jolt of cold water when he had come back to himself enough to remember the stories that were supposed to be true. None of it had been true, as far as he could understand. None.
And then some Dungeon and Dragons nerd had found out about Dinin and realized what he was. Drow. That was how Dinin's stay in the hospital ended; at the end of a dozen police rifles. Hours of interrogations followed. Days, weeks, months of being locked up. His entire life story being forcibly pulled from his lips--or so they thought; there was much that Dinin held back, knowing his life was on the line.
Grudgingly, he was released again when he was able to convince the government officials that he was not a threat. Given an education on English and the modern world, given an apartment to live in, given a stipend, but not entirely given his freedom.
No, he was given a 'guardian' instead to help him 'navigate' the world. A guardian that could bench press him with his finger. Yeah. Dinin knew at once what the guy was there for--to make sure he behaved, and if he didn't, to instantly kill him.
Dinin had no intentions on dying. Like before, he did whatever he had to do to survive. Besides, this 'prison' was far better than Menzoberranzan had ever been. He could deal with this.
Still, he all but gave the cold shoulder to Reinhart as they traveled in the back of a taxi. Regardless of how he felt, Dinin could not help but sneak disbelieving glances at the man. How in the nine hells could a man be that big?
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Dinin would never even be given the idea that the big man was at all displeased with this. Quite the contrary. Even as the elf attempted to shut the man out... well.
"It is interesting to be in a non combat situation like this. Normally when I watch someone, it is to keep them from being shot! It is so much quieter now."
Yeah.
Yeah he was gonna talk. He could talk for a long, long time, Dinin.
"I hope you do not mind that I brought a few things to keep me occupied in the apartment. It has been some time since I've lived in anything like it, you see." The old barracks in Strudel were a touch better suited for someone of his size.
And yet, despite being so big, Dinin would find an amazing amount of room between himself and the man. He'd settled himself just so, so that the smaller man wouldn't feel cramped or imposed upon. Even if it meant squeezing into a corner.
He looked comfortable enough, smiling brightly at Dinin.
"What would you like for dinner tonight?"
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"Anything except pizza and a good glass of wine," Dinin answers, looking out the window at the ever so strange world he inhabits through his sunglasses.
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"Pizza would never go with wine anyway! Nein, I'll make us sauerbraten and bread. You have no issues with meat, do you?" If so, hey. He could make vegan saurbraten. It wouldn't be the same and he sure as hell wouldn't eat it, but if Dinin wanted it, he'd definitely make a decent portion for him too.
"Und nachtisch, ice cream maybe? You have not had this yet have you?" Please say no, he wants to see you taste ice cream for the first time, okay?
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"Hence why I do not want it," Dinin looks back to him, then, trying not to appear curious. "You cook?" Quickly followed by "What is sauerbraten? ... and ice cream, for that matter?"
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"Sauerbraten is meat, cooked in a sour sauce with vegetables. It has been marinating for a few days now, it needs time, you see... Ah what is in it... Red wine, peppercorns, juniper berries, cloves, nutmeg, and bay leaves... It will be a while yet still before it is fully cooked, it needs four hours..." Yeah, he's drifting off just thinking about making this.
Your seven foot four burly four hundred pound baby sitter with the face of a bear is getting thoughtful over cooking.
"Wine is good, but it goes best with stout... Ice cream! Ah, it is... well, iced cream! Very thick, sweet cream made in different flavors. Chocolate, vanilla, mint, pistachio, cherry... Ah, the car ride is not long enough to tell you all the flavors."
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"We will have to get a flavor you like. When you think of sweet, what is it that comes to mind first? Fruit? Candy?"
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Once more, open offers. Choice given, even if it was just between going to the apartment, or stopping at a store to get ice cream first.
"I think they make syrup in dark chocolate as well... We will have to show you more flavors later, maybe. We have plenty of time, after all."
Already, the glow of the apartment lights, and by proxy the corner store, was blooming across the cab windows, the car pulling to the curb and Reinhardt excusing himself after paying, politely holding the door open for Dinin.
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"... I would like to see the store; I have never been in a human 'corner store'," Dinin nods his thanks to the door being held open, scooting out of the car and standing, looking around curiously. "I was allowed only on supervised trips to the nearby 'mall'."
Their luggage had already been moved ahead of them, so there wasn't any need to worry about it.
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Again, the door was held for Dinin, Reinhardt making it a point to enter before him. Just in case anyone did actually happen to see and recognize the little dark elf and get upset.
He had a job to do, after all.
"Alright, dark chocolate ice cream and syrup! Should not be hard, eh? Here, there is a section for food that is frozen, over here." Gesturing to the back wall behind the chips.
ADVENTURE, DININ.
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That's the equivalent of Dinin saying his thanks repeatedly and with great gusto; don't expect it to be much more than that.
He looks around in surprise at the store so crammed full of... things and food. That's the two things he can think of. Things and food. And makeup. The one good thing about his sunglasses is that he can scan a place without most people noticing where his sight has gone, and he can see the shop owner tense up a little after he enters.
Ah. "It is like a grocery, only smaller."
Dinin has been to one of those, too.
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He just beamed down at the smaller man before letting the door close, heading right to the ice cream. Hey. He's nice, but he's pretty single minded, and he wants some goddamn ice cream.
"Less fresh food here than a grocery, I would say, but yes." Everything was made to last, jerky and chips and cans of instant ravioli and boxes of microwave pasta.
"Here we are, dark chocolate! We'll get the gallon, we'll need it."
Considering Reinhardt can pound back a gallon of ice cream all by his damn self, yes. They'll need it. He's going to try and be moderate here.
"Now, syrup? Cherries maybe? We could put candy on it, what shall we get..."
Because if he has to be happy with just a gallon to share, he's gonna need to load this up with more sweets.
Oh hey I realized I was not spelling Reinhardt right WHOOPS
"Whatever you wish," Dinin looks up and up and up at him. "The 'ice cream' shall be more than enough for me."
FOUR MONTHS LATER
Then there's at least five bags of fun size snickers being grabbed too. That's gonna be more candy than ice cream, Reinhardt.
"Anything else you would like, while we are here? I remember, no pizza, of course. But there are so many other foods for you to try, ja? Pick one, you are so small, you need it."
A WELCOME BLAST FROM THE PAST
Look. He misses the mushrooms of Menzoberranzan. That was some good stuff.