He hummed a tune to the beat of drops falling from the dismembered beasts as He wiped His hands on a now-ruined handkerchief. Combat was not His kind of jazz; had never been. It felt out of tune, like a melody that had lost its way.
He tossed the rag aside and unrolled the sleeves of His silken shirt, checking to make sure there were no stains. He nodded politely to His aide while slipping into the presented vest, then grabbed His fedora off a nearby branch.
“You are quite correct, my cloudy companion.” He peeled off His face and handed it over. “Freedom from the moth-eaten miens of ancient animals, able to affect a more modern mirage… It is inspiring. Bring now the bounty which we have hunted.”
As He watched the shadowy silhouette slipping around the glade, a torso slid loose nearby and drifted to the ground a gentle sigh. His heel tapped impatiently, strumming along with His desire to leave.
He adjusted His shirt and examined himself in the mirror of a blood pool. The hem of His suit glowed softly in shades of green, a neon highlight to match the sparkle of blue irises enveloping His crescent pupils like flowers in bloom.
His reflection began redoing the bowtie while His valet slid up next to Him, offering an apologetic shrug in response to His inquisitively arched brow.
“Missing?” He turned sharply, swinging into a full spin to survey the glade. Trolls without rhythm, shattered rocks, toppled trees…
But no sword.
He took a deep breath and started to whistle, jauntily moving off into the forest whence He had come. His myriad reflections gazed at Him quizzically from the morning dew, and He replied with a knowing smile.
“Only one warrior with the wits to take the trophy that brought our band back from beyond,” He offered as His servant glided into stride with Him. “Sylvan streets to shift our scene shall show the score.”
He ignored the collective eye-roll His minions performed behind His back, instead resuming His merry tune as He faded into the night.