TRC - Last Name Pt. 02

"Wait, you're going to make me a leg that can do both of my forms?" asked Maris. She was hoping for just a human leg and hadn't considered that they might make one that can do both.

"Aye, makin' that'll be the fun part. The last thing ye need ta know before ye accept is that this'll take time. Just doing all the research to start will take a couple of years. The other thing is that the rest o yer leg will come off up to the hip. In the past, we had problems with bones breaking above the graft. Now we just put the attachment point up at the socket where there's more bone ta grab on to. Are ye in, lass?"

"This seems a bit rushed," said Devlin, uncomfortable with how Garful was pressuring the cat-girl.

The dwarf laughed, "I am bein' a bit of an arse ain't I. Me grandad pioneered turning mithril and steel into missing arms and legs. The problem is that most dwarves who lose a leg just strap a wooden peg to it and go on about their lives. Hernfel lost his forging hand, or he likely wouldn't have bothered. A dwarf ain't a dwarf if he can't swing a hammer. As you know, my father was a master smith, but my uncle took after my grandpap and kept his work going. I took after me uncle more than me pap which is why yer talkin' ta me. I have bunches o' engineers who will be howlin' ta be first ta work on this. To be honest, I'll be at the front o' that line."

Maris glanced up at Devlin then back to the dwarf, "Why?"

"Cuz it's new. Ain't nobody done a leg like yours before. So, are ye in?"

With a final, nervous glance up at Devlin, she nodded.

"And you, boy?"

"Just point me where you need me to go."

---

---

Devlin entered his quarters in the underground kingdom, one of the dwarves he passed told him that it sounded like crying coming from his room.

Lying on the bed, Maris was curled into a ball sobbing. A few weeks ago, they removed the remainder of her severed leg. A mithril mount now covered the area where her future replacement would go. Since they were still designing the leg, a metal plate covered the mount. In the past, the dwarves had better results letting bones and the mithril stitch together naturally instead of healing spells or potions. This meant she couldn't go back out with the scouting teams and had been stuck in their quarters since they installed the artificial hip socket.

The fighter knelt by the bed, "Maris, what's wrong?" he asked, but the cat-girl rolled away and started crying harder.

"Maris..."

"How can you love a woman who is part machine?" she asked between sobs.

He gently rolled her onto her back though she resisted at first. Her eyes filled with tears when she looked up at him, "Before they put this on me, they told me I shouldn't have any children because my hips might not move the same way with metal in them. I wanted to give you a daughter, but now I can't," she said, rolling away from him.

Devlin took off his armor and set his hammer next to the bed. Crawling in behind Maris, he pulled her to him and held her as she cried.

---

---

"Are you ready?" Devlin asked, looking down at the feline woman lying on the table surrounded by dwarven engineers. She had her hands up by her head where he held them tightly as the dwarves made the final preparations to attach her leg. Part of the fighter's job was to keep her in place during the process

"I'm fucking terrified, but yes," answered Maris. She glanced over at his arm, "If it's as bad as they say, I'm going to hurt you."

"If it's as bad as they say, whatever you do to me will be nothing compared to what you are about to go through."

Garful looked up at him from where he stood by her hip, "Remember, you have to keep her awake through the entire process, or we will have to start all over. I guarantee she doesn't want to do this a second time."

Maris's head came up off the table and glared at the dwarf, "I'm doing this a second time when you finish the one that shifts to my cat leg anyway, aren't I?"

"Not like this, lass. Once this part is done, ye'll be able to take it off and put it back on with no more pain than a hefty slap on the arse. But this time it needs ta find the proper way up ta yer head fer ye to move and feel, and it's gonna hurt all the way up," said Garful. Figuring that the cat-girl laying her head down was acceptance, he nodded to the other dwarves, "Do it."

There was a metallic click, and Devlin saw one of the dwarves shift forward as he pushed Maris's leg into place. The cat-girl's eyes widened as she felt the leg she had been missing for so many years back on her body. At the same time, it felt like the leg was being dipped in the vats of molten metal down in the Great Forge. She laid her head back and screamed as her nose and mouth pushed out, becoming more cat-like as searing pain traveled from her leg over to her spine and made its way up into her head before it began slowly abating as connections snapped into place.

Devlin pressed down on her hands as she tried to escape the agony. As her face changed shape, her hands reverted to claws that sank into his palms. Maris's turned her head and she sunk her teeth into his arm as she hissed and snarled, lashing out at the things preventing her from fleeing.

Wincing as she switched to his other arm and bit him again, Devlin hoped he left a spare healing potion in Tun. His arms and hands were going to need it.

---

"How does it feel," he asked when they finally returned to their quarters. Devlin sat down on the bed and unwrapped the bandages around his hands. One of the dwarven clerics took pity on him and healed his hands and the holes in his arm. Dwarven clerics were better known for turning water into ale than their healing powers, and the wounds still hurt.

"It does," said Maris, stripping off the long tunic she wore for the procedure and walking around their room.

"How is that an answer?"

She ran a hand over the silver-blue metal plate covering her thigh, "I can feel that. It's not like it was, but I can still feel it." Lifting her leg, she tilted her foot forward and back, then put it down and leaned from side to side. "This is amazing," she whispered for probably the hundredth time since she first stood up from the table.

Devlin was looking down and trying to flex the soreness out of his hands when he felt Maris's fingers on his cheeks, lifting his face to look at her.

"Garful said the next few weeks were going to be full of tests and experiments. But there's one thing they won't be able to test," her pupils dilated from their usual slits to nearly taking up her entire eye at the same time a low, rumbling purr began emanating from her chest, "and that's how well my new leg wraps around you as you fuck me."

---

---

The tavern around Devlin and his party was extremely lively. The little town they were in got lucky as two minstrels showed up earlier that day. They took turns singing and telling stories when a third showed up and joined in the rotation. The new singer started his first song as Devlin pointed at the map on the table in front of him.

"Here is where we are. We have an abandoned mine over here to investigate, as well as some ruins to the west of it that we should check out."

"The ruins are probably looted," said the man sitting across from him, a fighter who was probably the most cynical person he had ever met. Every chest was trapped to him, every ruin was empty, and every dungeon was going to kill them. He was nearly impossible to get along with, but his constant paranoia had saved them a few times. Unfortunately, the dwarves of Bardinthuul decided who his party members were, not him. However, according to the dwarven accountants, he only had to say that for another year or two before he and Maris would be free. Seven years was a long time, but it was hard to say it wasn't worth it when he saw Maris walking around.

"We'll find something worthwhile there," slurred the cleric to Devlin's left as he waved his tankard of ale around. Since he was the cleric of some nature goddess, at least Devlin didn't have to deal with the constant harassment about his female companions. In fact, the cleric seemed to be quite the opposite and took an odd amount of pleasure in telling people of his party leader's various sexual conquests. He did notice that if the cleric's tales netted Devlin a companion for the night, the cleric often found a woman to warm his bed as well.

"How long to the mine?" asked the dwarf sitting to Devlin's right. At first, the fighter thought that Bardinthuul sent the dwarves along to keep tabs on him. Garful later explained that they were just there to get away from the kingdom and see some other lands for a while. There was no need to keep tabs on him because every gold he made and gave to the dwarves was time off his and Maris's servitude. His only complaint was the smell and constant bleating from the rams the dwarves used as steeds after learning this.

"About three days—" Devlin's head shot up in surprise as he recognized the voice of the minstrel singing behind him. His eyes widened even more as he listened to the words of the song.

"So he laid the queen down and swung his hammer/

For her and her lady friends/

And when he stopped a-swingin' his hammer/

They begged him to swing it again!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and hoots, making the bard yell to be heard over them. "There you have it! The tale of Sir Stormhammer! But his stories don't end there—"

"Naden!" Devlin roared, knocking over his chair as he stood. "What the hell are you doing!"

The tavern went silent but for the drunken mumbling of a man about to pass out.

Naden threw a hand out toward the fighter, "Ladies and gentlemen, the hero of my last song! In the flesh! It's Devlin Stormhammer!"

Devlin had to wait a few moments for the cheering to die down before shouting across the tavern. "What the hell are you singing about?"

The bard smiled wide as everyone in the room turned to look at him. "Well, the story goes that a few months ago, a man by the name of Devlin Stormhammer got rightfully hammered on some orcish grog an innkeeper had purchased. In a fit of drunken bragging, Stormhammer told everyone there the story of climbing a tower in the middle of a thunderstorm and giving a queen and her handmaidens a taste of his hammer," said Naden in a deep voice with a suggestive thrust of his hips, "and that was how he got really his name."

Devlin groaned, remembering the night as the dwarf in his party guffawed behind him.

"I would like to point out to the good folk gathered here... he hasn't denied it yet. However! I know that he, in fact, cannot deny it." Naden's voice dropped to a conspiratorial stage whisper, "You see, I once traveled with Sir Stormhammer, and nine months after we parted ways, I heard a certain king finally got his heir. Tell us, Devlin, have you been back there since?"

"No," he replied, glaring at the bard.

"Good thing too. I've seen the boy. If the king saw your face, he'd know in an instant it wasn't his."

The barkeep held up a hand, looking between the two men, "This isn't some act, is it? You're actually Sir Stormhammer?"

"I'm... not a knight, just a fi—"

"Let me tell you a tale I have of Sir Stormhammer," yelled the cleric, stumbling in front of Devlin and sloshing the contents of the tankard in his hand onto the floor. "So this mage bitch puts us all to sleep when we're at camp one night, and we all wake up in fuggin' cages. What does this guy do?" the man pointed at Devlin, nearly dousing him with ale. "Strips his fuggin' clothes off and stands there. Bare ass naked! He just stands there! His cock gets hard every time the woman shows up, but he never talks to her or nuthin', jus' stands there..."

Naden crossed the tavern sidling around the drunken cleric to stand in front of Devlin.

"You're putting them in danger, Naden."

"Not my song, Devlin. I heard it from a traveling minstrel, and he told me that east of here there are places you can hear it every night. All I've been doing is adding some stories from my time traveling with you. Though I may... embellish them here and there, and Sir Stormhammer rolls off the tongue so much easier than Devlin. Your stories are extremely popular and once news of this gets out and it becomes known there is truth and a face behind the tale, the songs will spread like wildfire."

Devlin looked at the floor, "Fuck."

"Maris?" the bard asked.

"Alive and walking thanks to the dwarves. They made her a new human leg, and soon she'll be getting another that lets her switch to her cat leg again."

Naden breathed a sigh of relief, "That's good to hear. Sorry, Dev, but one of the reasons I left was I didn't want to be around if you lost her too."

"...so not only do we escape! But then Stormhammer here tells us to wait and goes back to the woman! Two days later, he comes strollin' back into camp, and the very same mage that wanted to kill us is following along like a lost puppy and askin' if she can join the party!" The cleric swirled the splash of ale left in the bottom of his mug, "Damn good mage too, stayed with us for four months after that."

Naden took advantage of the lull following the cleric's story to run back to the small stage on the other side of the tavern, grabbing the townsfolk's attention. "As I said, I traveled with Devlin," The bard called out to the audience. "Now, let me tell you the story of a raven-haired woman who became Sir Stormhammer's first true love."

"Naden!" Devlin yelled in a warning tone, "Find someone else to sing about." Picking his chair up off the floor, he took a seat facing away from the stage. Time had dulled those memories and he didn't want them dredged up again

The bard bowed, "As you wish, Sir Stormhammer."

---

Maris bolted down the halls of the dwarven kingdom on all fours. Coming to an intersection, she leapt above the heads of two dwarves coming around the corner and ran along the wall for a moment before dropping back to the floor. "Devlin!" she yelled upon seeing him in the hall ahead, talking with a dwarf.

"What is it?" he wasn't sure he had ever seen the woman so panicked. Bouncing into the air, her arms and leg switched back to human, and she hopped a few times on her human foot while her metal one shortened and her thigh lengthened to bring her heel down. As she came to a stop in front of him, all the mithril plates clicked into place.

Pulling a folded piece of paper from her cleavage, she shoved it at him, "Messenger parchment from Teremin."

Devlin's face drained of color as he read the note. He looked up at Maris, "I have to leave."

Maris pulled his head down and kissed him hard, "I know. They served you well last time, so take my claws again. Don't get killed, Devlin. I need you."

"I won't," he said before dashing off to their quarters.

---

Maris tossed the letter down on Garful's desk. He wasn't a Magistrate anymore but still acted as a liaison between the kingdom and the human and cat-girl couple. "Devlin is leaving," she stated.

Garful picked up the letter and read:

Devlin Stormhammer,

News of your exploits reached Teremin. A wizard confirmed the boy wasn't his. After the first two queens, Lermin's vizier convinced him to hold a public trial and make an example of her, but she will hang, and so will your boy. You should have kept your mouth shut.

Jemma

The dwarf sighed, "If ye don't come back and finish yer debt, I swear I'll hunt you down, drag ye by the tail all the way back here, then kick yer arse from one side o' the kingdom to the other. Go help yer man save his boy."

Maris leaned over the desk and wrapped the dwarf in a hug that might have broken bones were he human. She then bolted out the door to collect her gear and catch up with Devlin. Running out the front gate for the first time in eight years without being challenged, she raised her nose and sniffed. Devlin took nearly all the money they stored in their room, indicating he would probably run the horses almost to death then trade them for fresh ones at a stable. That meant she needed to find another way to get to him. Catching a whiff of what she was searching for, Maris dropped to all fours. After giving her metal leg a moment to shift, she took off in the opposite direction.

---

"Devlin! Devliiiiin!" yelled Maris.

Devlin turned to see who could be yelling at him and his eyes widened in shock. Maris was dropping out of the sky toward him while being carried by... a harpy? Tugging lightly on the reins, he brought the horse to a halt. The harpy gently set Maris down before landing a short way down the road.

"What are you doing? Did you run away?" he asked as she jogged up to him.

"Nope, they let me go, but I have to come back and finish once we are done," she said, leaping up on to the horse's rump. "I hope you don't mind, but I promised our bird friend here some time with you for the ride."

The harpy came walking over, her eyes wide with hope. "She said you could give me a chick if I helped her. Is that true?"

Devlin glared at Maris then turned back to the robin-colored bird woman, "If she promised it, then I shall honor the deal she made. But it will have to be once I return. I'm trying to save my son and his mother, and I simply cannot take the time to do it now."

The harpy's head dipped toward Maris, "That's what she said. If you are in a big hurry, I know a couple of other harpies in the area who might carry you where you are going if you offer them what you offered me."

Devlin glanced back at Maris, but the woman seemed as surprised by the offer as he was.

Turning back to the harpy, he nodded, "Go speak with your friends," Devlin paused as Maris moved around in front of him and sat down, "if they accept, then have them meet me on this road before sundown." Kicking his horse to a gallop, he continued on his way. The harpy took to the air and pumped her wings furiously, impatient to tell her friends of this chance to have a chick.

---

"I want that cheating bitch dead!" screamed King Lermin, his rant punctuated by a bolt of lightning followed by a rolling peal of thunder from the storm outside. "Every moment she and that bastard child of hers live is an insult to me!"

"The people are nervous, my Liege," the monarch's grand vizier explained, drawing his attention to lords and ladies of the court cowering from Lermin's rage. "Killing the queen and the boy outright will leave you with no heir-apparent. Since you jailed the queen, merchants are already refusing to come to the kingdom for fear of getting caught up in a major upheaval. If we do not tread carefully, the people will side with the queen, and we will have a revolt." The man looked harried after explaining this same thing over and over to the infuriated ruler.

"Nonsense!" he yelled, slamming a fist onto the arm of his throne. "Why would they side with her?!"

"Because whether she is in the dungeons or not, she is still the queen, Sire, and she has produced an heir."

The king's face went red with anger, "That... thing... is not—"

"That's all I needed to hear," came a voice from near the roof of the throne room. Noblemen and women shrieked, trying to get away as a man thoroughly soaked from the rain outside dropped to the floor. The two spearmen stationed inside the throne room door lowered their weapons and charged, yelling for the guards outside.

Devlin pulled his war hammer from the holster on his back. Stepping aside as the soldier thrust a spear at him, he hooked the shaft of the weapon under the spike and drove it across and down, intercepting the other guard's spear and forcing the tip through the ornate purple rug at their feet. Devlin stepped on the second spear's shaft, snapping it as he brought the hammer up and into the side of the first guard's head. Before the soldier hit the ground, the spike on the back of his war hammer sunk into the side of the other man's skull. Tugging the point free, he turned and sent the hammer spinning at King Lermin as arcs of electricity danced across the weapon's head.