《Fallen Off the Bifrost, Jormungandr Book 1》 Death Comes For Us All… THIS STORY IS AVAILABLE IN FULL ON KINDLE UNLIMITED. HI, I''M THE AUTHOR, AND I AM POSTING THE FIRST TWO OR THREE CHAPTERS HERE ON ROYAL ROAD FOR PUBLICITY PURPOSES...AND BECAUSE WE WILL SOON BE RELEASING THE TABLETOP GAME FEATURED IN IT! VOICEOVER: THIS IS...THE CLINTON NEWS NETWORK. Your best source for the unbiased truth. In foreign news: President Harris today finalized the sale of unneeded land in many States to China, successfully paying off the national debt for the first time in history. This, despite ongoing protests by the fake-American citizens in those states, and their conspiracy theories about this being the culmination of a communist plot against the American people. President Harris, when asked about this, responded with "What do I care what they say? They were never LOYAL Americans anyway, so let the Chinese do with their people what the CCP thinks they need to do ." SIDETALK: Well at least we won''t have to worry about these former states voting for a traitorous fascist like Trump again, Right? That''s right Chelsea, the last thing this country needs is another so-called "president" following after THAT fake-martyr, ha ha ha! In domestic news today: The so-called "Constitutional States" movement just put out a report on the supposed upswing in paramilitary attacks and terrorist events all along the United States/Mexico border. They have illegally detained or killed several foreign nationals, claiming them to have been engaged in wartime activities. The US Department of Homeland Security, and the Federal Bureau of Investigation, have both called on the governors of the border states to release these innocent people and arrest the far-right terrorists responsible for these acts of domestic terrorism, since their field offices in the states were destroyed in riots last month. While the governors did not respond, the reply given to us by their press representatives is...not repeatable. Wayne turns off the radio in his truck before he vomits. Turning onto the road that leads back to his home from town in his work truck, he wonders how long his gaming buddies will want to go tonight. He listens to the rattle-clank of the rolls of barbed wire and rubberized pegs in the back of the truck, looking forward to their game of The Harrowed Earth tonight, but dreading having to head out to run wire around his property tomorrow. Why the HELL did I come back here after the navy? Pia and I could have raised Paul outside of Cebu, like we had planned, and just let Johnny take over the ranch when Ma died. Wayne, a former U.S. Navy Munitions Warrant Officer, ruminates over having his family trapped in Texas during this ¡°Second American Civil War¡±. An old regret, but one that he even has to admit to himself isn''t fair. After all it wasn''t Johnny''s fault that he and their mother ended up killed by a "truck of peace" when they were visiting a gerontology specialist in Houston. He remembers the old ache in his chest from when he got the call about their deaths, while in the VA Hospital in the Philippines the day after the birth of his son Paul. He went from being the happiest a man could be, to having a pit open up beneath him. He and Pia talked it through, and he decided to move their small family back to Texas to take over the family ranch, so that they could keep it in the Sigurdsson family and eventually pass it on to Paul. Neither of them could have guessed that after the DemonRats stole the 2020 election, they would go full-bore traitor and eventually assassinate their competition in 2024! Now the family is trapped here in the States because, as a former-serviceman, the current regime considers him too much of a risk of "foreign radicalization" as an "alt-right extremist" to let out of the country. Being in a so-called ¡°secessionist¡± state like Texas doesn¡¯t help, either. And they wonder why the majority of the populations of the border states have decided to secede from D.C., even as they surround them with Chinese military forces to prevent the population from leaving...and SUBSIDIZE foreign attacks into them from the Mexican border. "Almost" like they are trying to genocide the American population, and replace it with an imported one too stupid to resist their communist overlords. Heh heh, "DemonRats"...I still can''t believe the guy who WROTE The Harrowed Earth came up with that one... As he rolls up the window on his dad''s old Ford (which is older than HE is), the thought which brings him back to later tonight, is that the truck is back from when America used to MAKE things. The Harrowed Earth is an alternate-d20 (i.e. ¡°alt-20¡±) DnD-style game he bought from a local RPG store a few months back, wanting to take his mind off of the growing devolution of his country WITHOUT climbing down the neck of a bottle...little hard to run a ranch when you are drunk off your ass 24/7. The guy who runs the store is an old Army Ranger, who managed to smuggle it into the state past the Chinese Army barricades, mixed in with a trailer of 5.56 for the Texas Guard. When he found out Wayne was a former navy munitions warrant officer, he laughed and pulled out the ¡°Red-Pilled as FUCK¡± book from beneath the counter, then introduced him to a bunch of other locals he knew who were looking to start a game. Now, several months later, the six of them meet up at Wayne''s farm on the first Sunday night of every month to stay up late slinging dice and drinking beer. Ah, looks like everybody beat me here, Wayne thinks as he pulls up to park in front of his family home, alongside the three other cars from his gaming buddies, and the Jeep that his wife uses when she needs to run errands while he is out on the ranch with the Ford. He smiles as he sees Paul playing with John and Samantha''s twins, hosing each other down with squirt guns in the hot summer evening sun. He is looking forward to when Paul is old enough to take out coyote-hunting on the ranch, kid looks like has AIM, he thinks with a mental chuckle as Paul hits one of the twins square in the mouth when he starts laughing. As his car engine down in the hot sun Pia comes out taking off her cooking apron, smiling and calling the kids in for dinner, before leaning off the porch to pull him into a passionate kiss as he reaches the steps up to the porch...making all three kids laughingly cry out ¡°eeewwww!,¡± before they run past the two on their way inside. In a husky voice Pia whispers ¡°John and Samantha brought bacon-wrapped roast beef this month¡± in his ear, teasing him with his favorite food before running inside to dodge out of the way of Wyane''s butt-swatting hand. Little minx still knows JUST how to get to me. Wayne walks into the mudroom on his way to the dining room, seeing John''s prosthetic leg leaning against the inside door but no crutch...he must have left the wheelchair at home this month. Walking into the dining room he confirms it, with John sitting next to his wife Samantha at the adult''s table, his crutch leaning next to the window frame behind him, sucks that he got dosed-up with that fake-ass ¡°vaccine¡±, before everybody KNEW it was poison...but at least it ONLY cost him a leg. A joke that John not infrequently brings up when playing ¡°Doc House¡±, the medic in their WWII-era The Harrowed Earth game. Sitting at the head of the table Wayne looks around and sees that in addition to the two of them, Perri and Thomas are already what looks to be about halfway done with a card came with Finnley their Horror Guide...who is winning. An atypical result which explains why Finn looks so dejected at having to clean up the game so they can dig into dinner. The world may be going to hell on a lubed-up waterslide, but DAMN am I still a lucky man, Wayne thinks as he ponders his family, friends, and having the free time to enjoy good hobbies. *** The Sturmwolf officer collapses in agony, clutching his abdomen as the zombified rat starts to gnaw its way out, letting Herr Grey move forward to shove a rag in his mouth without any opposition. ¡°Be careful which blond you pick up at a bar next time,¡± he says, before stabbing a silver-coated ice pick into the werewolf¡¯s brain through the eye socket. Herr Grey: Neutral Good ECL 4 ¡°Human¡± Precursor (Ascendant) Hit Die 3, Level Adjustment +1. High Charisma and Intelligence. Notable Traits: Eldritch Soul ¡Á3, Psychic Medium ¡Á3. Wayne laughs as he says, ¡°I can¡¯t BELIEVE that worked!¡± as the rest of the table in his detached garage start roaring with laughter. ¡°I can¡¯t believe he bought that your character¡¯s 6 foot-tall ass was a WOMAN,¡± says Finnley, holding his side from the pain of the laughter. ¡°But hey, I guess that¡¯s what happens when you make a Bluff-o-Mancer¡±. Still caught up in the ridiculousness of the situation, the rest of the table cracks up again at the poor pun, despite Wayne¡¯s ferocious blush¡­or more likely BECAUSE of it. ¡°I did NOT lie to him! Herr Grey really HAS never slept with another man, and coming back to my hotel room really WAS a once-in-a-lifetime experience¡­death is a one-shot event, after all.¡± Even Wayne can¡¯t keep a straight face at that one. ¡°Besides, it was Doc House that implanted my zombie rat inside his intestines after he passed out from the what¡­fourth?...Essence of Sleep-dosed shot of Whiskey?!¡± ¡°Hey it wasn¡¯t MY fault that YOU had to go and pick up the highest-ranking lycanthrope you could find, you Extra-Terrestrial asshat!,¡± snirks John, with a wink and a chuckle. ¡°Let¡¯s get inside before your ¡®date¡¯ has to change shifts. We still have a LOT of cattle cars to empty out!¡± Doc House: Chaotic Good ECL 4 ¡°Human¡± Aasimar Hit Die 3, Level Adjustment +1. High Intelligence and Wisdom. Notable Traits: Spiritualism ¡Á3. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it With the NAZI werewolf dead on the floor of the rail yard watch-house-cum-love-shack, Herr Grey lets the illusion of a blonde bombshell drop, before flashing his light twice in the window. At the signal the rest of his Polish Resistance cell came rushing into the building from alleyway across the street, carrying carts full of clean clothes between them so the wheels don¡¯t squeak. Once the other four are inside the shack, Doc House and Fraggy begin taking stacks of clothes from one of the carts to put on the table, while the other two wheel the last cart out into the train yard¡­the NAZI¡¯s keys in hand. After Fraggy stripped down to deadlift the corpse into the wagon, Doc House starts using his alchemical concoctions to clean the bloody mess off the floor, and eliminate their scents. Meanwhile Herr Grey cuts off some of the officer¡¯s hair to put inside his jacket FOR the scent, before casting disguise self to assume the dead lycanthrope¡¯s form and stepping outside to resume ¡°his¡± place on guard duty. A perfect operation¡­for now. And a good spot to pause for a snack break. Fraggy: True Neutral ECL 4 Human Hit Die 4. High Strength and Wisdom. Notable Traits: Call of the Wild ¡Á4, Combat Bonuses ¡Á4. ¡°Everybody ready to resume, or does someone need to go take a piss or something?,¡± asks Finnley. When nobody says anything he resumes, ¡°OK when we last left our intrepid heroes¡­fifteen minutes ago¡­you had managed to smuggle the two hundred kidnapped Innuit Elves to safe houses, but Cinda and Vienna were captured covering your retreat, when the dead guard¡¯s replacement shift arrived. Herr Grey, you and both Fraggy and Doc House managed to get away, thanks to Doc House using create water to hose down the werewolves that had your scent.¡± With a conciliatory sigh Wyne says, ¡°Sorry I couldn¡¯t help talk you out of getting arrested ladies, but the mission took longer than we expected and I had to run before my last disguise self spell wore off.¡± ¡°No worries, Cinda is a ¡®good German woman¡¯, they will treat her well until she can escape,¡± says Samantha. At which point everybody laughs, Perri barely getting out, ¡°Yeah¡­as long as none of them fall asleep around you, and gets eaten by their NIGHTMARES,¡± while wiping her tearing eyes. Cinda: Lawful Good ECL 4 Human Hit Die 4. High Charisma and Wisdom. Notable Traits: Divine Agent (Elder Deities) ¡Á4, Skillful ¡Á4. Has taken the ¡°Dreaming¡± Elder Domain. Samantha only shows an evil grin, ¡°Ah, but think of the OPPORTUNITIES¡­¡± Perri continues, ¡°At least they didn¡¯t strip YOU naked and toss you in a kennel, as ¡®subrace filth¡¯.¡± She describes what¡¯s happened to her character Vienna, the Hawai¡¯an wife of a French diplomat who was killed when the NAZIs invaded Poland, now hell-bent on revenge. Vienna sits shivering slightly from the water the NAZI scum hosed her down with, naked, on the floor of the dog cage they had thrown her into after stripping her clean to get rid of any hidden weapons. And for a cheap thrill, nobody ever accused NAZI foot soldiers of being gentlemen, after all. Good thing they missed the garrote in her hair clip, and the Skinpicks on her back. But she can¡¯t use her witchcraft or reach the lock without alerting the Polish collaborator sneering at, an occasionally spitting on, her. Sure she could kill him in short order, but not without him dropping the bell that would alert the Sturmwolves outside to her escape. Vienna: Chaotic Good ECL 4 Halfling Hit Die 4. High Dexterity and Intelligence. Notable Traits: Psychic Attack ¡Á4, Psychokinetics ¡Á4. Meanwhile, in the back room of Doc House¡¯s apothecary shop the next evening, the three remaining resistance cell members are plotting. ¡°We have GOT to get the ladies out of the klink, before they wind up on the next car out of town!¡± wails Fraggy. Doc House tries to lighten the mood with a joke, ¡°Don¡¯t worry my friend, after last night they are far more likely just to KILL them, since the railyard is obviously not secure.¡± ¡°Doc, your bedside manner needs¡­well¡­ALL the work. But I have an insane idea that JUST might work¡­,¡± pipes up Herr Grey with a bone-chilling grin. After sunset, an hour later, Fraggy whispers to Doc House, ¡°I think us two are the ¡®insane¡¯ ones for agreeing to this¡±. Then the wolf-man Sturmwolf yanks on the ropes around their wrists, making them stumble, before growling back ¡°no talk¡± through his shaggy blood-drenched muzzle. As it turns its face back to the front, the three of them are caught in the beam of a spotlight from the guard tower around the NAZI base they are approaching. Shortly, the two Polish rebels are being taken to the cells, while the Sturmwolf is following the base commander to his office. ¡°We feared you were lost when we could not find you at the train yard, how did you escape?¡± The Sturmwolf hackingly growls out, ¡°taken¡­woke up in basement¡­moon rose¡­ate man with pliers.¡± The commander laughs, either at the broken German being forced through his canine muzzle, or the thought of the look on the interrogator¡¯s face just before he was eaten. ¡°Well the butler will bring you a new uniform to my office, my apologies for any poor fitting, but we can tailor you one after you¡­are back to normal. I¡¯ll pour you a nice tumbler of Schnapps while we wait, but you will have a hard time drinking it until you change back.¡± The side of the werewolf¡¯s snout pulls back in a semi-canine grin, ¡°will manage,¡± before the commander laughs again as he opens his office door. A few minutes later the werewolf shoves the tumbler halfway down his muzzle, before tilting his head back to swallow the contents, ¡°yum¡±. ¡°Funny, I thought you would lap it up for some reason, you folks are the first time I¡¯ve ever had Sturmwolves under my command,¡± says the chagrinned commander. As there is a polite knock on the door, the commander calls in the butler with the uniform, before telling the werewolf to use his attached bathroom to change. Then he tells the butler to, ¡°Fetch the traitorous whore, for my new guest¡±. Meanwhile the prisoners are being taken to the basement cells by the guards on shift, stripped, hosed down, and thrown into prisoner¡¯s cages. As the last guard is left behind with an alarm bell to watch them, Vienna looks over at her new neighbor and says, ¡°So¡­what¡¯s up, Doc?¡± Doc leans into the bars between their cells before whispering, ¡°Don¡¯t worry Vienna, this is all part of the escape plan!¡± Incredulously Vienna whispers back, ¡°WHOSE hair brained ¡®rescue¡¯ scheme is it to get CAPTURED?! Oh¡­oh no¡­¡± Her face falls as Doc¡¯s crazy smile gets wider and wider, before he says ¡°just wait for the signal.¡± Meanwhile, the newly-dressed Sturmwolf is still using a hand towel to clean the soapy water from his newly-Human face while sitting on the edge of the commander¡¯s desk, and chatting amicably, when there is another polite knock at his door. The commander¡¯s call opens the door showing the butler, as the guard shoves Cinda inside by the arm, before the door is shut again at a nod from the commander. ¡°So my little race-traitor, it is time for you to do your duty as a good Aryan daughter of the German Reich. This man here is a Sturmwolf officer who has just accomplish a great deed for the war effort, and YOU are to be his mate¡­the Fuhrer could use more men of his caliber!¡± Cinda tilts her head to the side to see the Human-looking werewolf, before twisting her mouth and saying in exasperation, ¡°I don¡¯t care if he is adopted ¨C I am STILL not going to fuck my BROTHER.¡± The commander¡¯s puzzled look quickly vanishes as the soapy rag covers his mouth, just before his neck is opened by the letter opener from his desk. ¡°I never could fool YOU, sis,¡± says Herr Grey. The table erupts in laughter again as ¡°stage two¡± goes into effect. ¡°Ok, ok, I¡¯m going to get the ¡®tea¡¯ from our informant the butler, and douse the room in it. Then put the lit candle on the ground and escort ¡®my new mate¡¯ out of the office,¡± says Wayne. ¡°Once I have her in the troop transport in the motor pool, I¡¯ll disguise myself as the ¡®commander¡¯, and go free ALL the prisoners after the fire alarm goes up!¡± Riding in the back of his staff car as the butler drives it from between the gates, the troop transport full of ¡°soldiers¡± follows behind them as the NAZI command post¡¯s fire starts spreading from the basement and the commander¡¯s quarters. The rest of the NAZIs being too distracted with trying to put out the fires, and guarding against possible outside attack by resistance forces, to more than passingly inspect either vehicle. ¡°Ok folks, with that lets call it a night,¡± says Finnley. ¡°You have all managed to level up after this, so send me an email with your desired traits and other improvements, and we will meet up again in a month!¡± *** Its midmorning when Wayne finally crawls out of bed the next day; the day after game night being the only time he ever really sleeps in. As he hits the bathroom he can hear John and Samantha downstairs, but not the kids or his wife¡­Oh, right, school day. You would think I would REMEMBER that once of these months! Buckling on his 1911 gunbelt, he heads downstairs to say goodbye to John and Samantha, ¡°Howdy rebel scum, did the kids get off to school OK?¡± ¡°Yeah man, Pia took the three musketeers to school like usual, said to let you know she¡¯s going to be spending the day in town getting supplies before bringing your rug rat home with her,¡± says John with a wink. Samantha swats him on the shoulder his crutch isn¡¯t using before adding her two cents, ¡°She said she left a plate of leftovers in the oven for you.¡± Then the two of them leave after giving Wayne a hug. After waving them off from his front porch, he goes back inside to grab an energy drink and breakfast, Mmmm¡­still good the next day . Pushing back from the table when he is done, he fills a canteen from the freezer with water before heading out to the truck, Long-ass day of stringing barbed wire ahead, but at least this should keep the cattle and my family safer. After driving over to the Eastern range, Wayne pushes the cattle into the home range with the liberal use of his car horn, so that he can start laying the barbed wire around it. As he drives a wide circle around the homestead, collecting stray cattle, he dumps off a roll of barbed wire every quarter mile or so. Stopping only once to shoot a coyote trying to stalk his herd, damn things are getting worse than the Mexican rustlers! Wayne spends the rest of the day unrolling barbed wire and pegging it to the ground in the hot late spring sun. Gathering a few nicks on his arms, even through his thick work gloves. Every now and again swinging the hatchet for its intended purpose, to clear away brush from where he has to run the loops of barbed wire. Fuck this is making my sweat sting, he thinks as he waves at his wife and son coming home that afternoon. ¡°Papa papa!,¡± Wayne looks up a short while later to see his son running towards him with a cloth-wrapped bundle and thermos, having run down the corridor of barbed wire that leads from the house area to the outside of the ring Wayne is making, ¡°Mama said you probably forgot to eat, so she asked me to bring you supper!¡± ¡°You did good kiddo,¡± Wayne tells Paul as he takes the meal and puts it in the car. He ruffles Paul¡¯s hair before saying, ¡°Now run on home son, it will be dark soon and we don¡¯t want your mom to worry. Tell her I will be inside in a couple hours.¡± Paul laughs and goes tearing off back home at a dead run, with the kind of energy that the universe seems to reserve for happy little kids. Wayne finishes his meal as the sun sets, before turning on the truck to drive to the next roll and finish the last stretch of wire around the perimeter. The work is going slower, since he has to hammer in pegs in the semi-darkness cast by the headlights, but eventually he is down to the last roll. Almost done, just one last section and I can grab a shower before snuggling up with Pia in be¨C There is a as Wayne¡¯s body collapses onto the dirt when his leg gives out, barely more audible to him than the of the suppressed rifle that fired through his thigh. SHIT! Must be rustlers!, Wayne thinks, as he grabs for his 1911 holster. He loses precious time rolling over to get off the holster, before pulling it out, only to have his hand stomped into the dirt by a man backlit in the truck¡¯s lights, standing over him. His mind echoes. No, this must NOT happen!, rattling around it in some odd scramble of neurons, sounding like another voice speaking in words that take time for his shocked brain to process. Got to get him off my hand, Wayne thinks, pushing futilely against the man¡¯s foot trapping his pistol. But then his hair is pulled back from behind him, before a sharp cold pain cuts across his throat, ¡°Don¡¯t worry puta, the Cartel will make good use of your woman. I already know somebody interested in buying that sweet little piece of ass she gave you ,¡± his murderer and the two men with him laugh cruelly as Wayne lay there, clutching his throat, trying desperately to stay alive¡­to save Pia and Paul from the hell just promised to them. Hear me, mortal. I can save them both, but there will be a cost. You will have to take up My burden, SHRIEKS the voice in Wayne¡¯s head, sounding desperate even as the strange foreign-sounding words swim into comprehension inside of him. With a gurgling voice, Wayne manages to croak out, ¡°do it¡± to the bewildered look on the face of the man still holding his hair. Then the world flashes to purest white. …But It Need Not Be The End ¡°Tragedy at the Sigurdsson Ranch,¡± hello and welcome back to the Lone Voice Radio Podcast, I''m your host Mr. Mann, and whoa BOY do I have a strange story to start off tonight with! It seems that shortly after dark this past Monday, local rancher Wayne Sigurdsson was murdered on his ranch by Mexican invaders. I know what y''all are thinking, "must be a day that ends in Y, what makes this strange?" Well evidently God took umbrage to THIS attack because, I shit you not, a BOLT OF LIGHTNING from a CLEAR SKY hit the site of the attack, killing all three murderers! Of course this might have something to do with Mr. Sigurdsson being out all day laying barbed wire around his property, to fend off attacks just like this according to his wife Pia, but hey...if it quacks like a duck AND THROWS LIGHTNING... Besides, unconfirmed reports state that SOMETHING was ¡°left behind¡± where the bolt touched down¡­what that is and how it is notably different from other lightning-scoured ground is unknown. Unfortunately, according to a source I have in the local P.D., a fourth man might have escaped the veritable Judgement of Heaven. I¡¯ll follow up on this later, and let y¡¯all know what is happening, if something comes up. I feel like I should throw up, but with how raw my throat is, I think I already hork¡¯d up my damn SPLEEN. And that¡¯s not all, Oh holy FUCK does my head hurt¡­what happened? With a sudden flash of memory, I reach up to grab my throat, to keep my life INSIDE me. With a flash of relief, Must have been a nightmare or something, I find my throat un-slit. And also un-bearded, What the fuck? I try to open my eyes, to shout my surprise and sit up in bed, but it feels like my flesh is filled with lead, and instead I just crack them open as I roll out of the bed I find myself in where it lays flat on the¡­DIRT floor?! Through my cracked lids I can see that I¡¯m in some sort of primitive hut with a low fire in the middle, being tended by a veritable GIANT of a man who quickly turns in surprise to see me flop around. What the hell is happening, where¡¯s the ranch, where¡¯s Pia? ¡°¡­Pia¡­,¡± I manage to croak out through my weakness. The giant smiles, his teeth sharp white, almost fluorescently so, as he exclaims, ¡°It worked? You made it, you¡¯re alive!¡± He then nearly crawls to me, before scooping me up in his arms and hugging me tight, ¡°Thank the deepest darkness and that which moves within it, I thought I had lost you too Laughash!¡± The weirdness only gets deeper. I can HEAR him talk, I can HEAR the words, but they are all gibberish¡­yet somehow I understand him. I can see the thick beard on his face, but as he rubs his cheek against the side of my face I feel only skin. Plus, you know, the guy looks to be about THREE TIMES taller than I am¡­and I¡¯m 6¡¯0¡± tall! ¡°Here, stay in bed for now, I¡¯ll make you some soup¡­you¡¯ve been feverish for over a tenday and haven¡¯t been able to keep anything down but water,¡± says the giant, before putting me back in the¡­pallet?...and pulling the furs up over me. Wait, furs?! Where the FUCK am I?! I¡¯m too weak to struggle or protest, barely able to move my hands up to pull down the furs from my naked body, but this lets me see that the man ISN¡¯T a giant¡­I¡¯m a child! My body is naked, hairless, and all the hard-working muscle I¡¯ve put on throwing around cows is just GONE! Plus, the weird markings all over my skin, that from rubbing one looks to have been painted on¡­yeah, that¡¯s weird as hell. This is my last thought before, evidently having blown all my limited energy, I pass out. I wake up sometime later, my upper body resting on the¡­just a guy¡¯s¡­legs, as he uses a carved wooden spoon to feed me some sort of broth. I admit it doesn¡¯t taste that bad, despite being totally un-spiced, but between bites my curiosity gets the better of me, ¡°who are you?¡± ¡°Huh, your spirit must still be wandering from the fever, I can¡¯t understand what you are saying Laughash,¡± my caretaker says in his weird language. Shit, I spoke in English, didn¡¯t I? With a bit of effort I manage to puzzle out what I need to say in the same language, reversing whatever it is that lets me comprehend it, ¡°who are you?¡± He looks sad suddenly, his facing falling into what seems to be near-despair, ¡°Oh no, the fever must have taken your mind. I¡¯m Venradik, I¡¯ve been taking care of you since your father died last spring.¡± He puts on a strained smile, ¡°Don¡¯t worry, your memory will come back after you recover, I¡¯ve seen this happen to people who get snow-sick before.¡± Yeah, obviously from his tone of voice, he doesn¡¯t believe a WORD of that. I don¡¯t either¡­this ¡°Laughash¡± kid is obviously not in residence anymore. Fuck, I¡¯ve been Isekai¡¯d like one of Pia¡¯s freaking anime, haven¡¯t I? The realization of my situation is a shock, to say the least. What about Pia and Paul? Are they going to be OK? This is the kind of anime thing that PIA likes to make me watch! Why the FUCK am I the one ¡°waking up to an unfamiliar ceiling¡±?! Then I remember the voice I heard when I was attacked back on the ranch. I may not have gotten some scene where a goddess grants me a second life, complete with cheat-like super powers, but at least whatever entity sent me here promised to protect my family. I miss them already. At least they will make it, I think before once again passing out, to the feel of soup flowing down my chin like drool. It is weeks before I am strong enough to do more than eat and do the inevitable side-effects of that. Embarrassing as all fuck the first time, when waking up to Venradik cleaning me off. Good thing babies don¡¯t remember doing THAT. Imagine the therapy bills! Yeah, I admit it, I kept freaking out over all this. At least Venradik used WARM water to wipe off the strange runes he had evidently painted on my new body, while Laughash was unconscious from fever. But Venradik seems to honestly care for this Laughash person. Whenever I am awake he keeps talking about my life, trying to kick-start ¡°Laughash¡¯s¡± memory, evidently. I may not remember this kid¡¯s life, but at least his worried mumblings are giving me some sort of backstory. That will be useful if I am to survive in this strange place, in the body of a 5-year-old freaking CHILD! Evidently, my people are (or were) a local primitive tribe here in the Land of Fire and Snow, nearly neolithic, and my mother died from an Ogre attack shortly after giving birth to me. Yeah, Ogres¡­fuck, this is some sort of fantasy world isn¡¯t it?! Well last spring the tribe came to this volcanic valley in their wanderings, only to find a walled village was already here, surrounded by farmland. So they attacked it to take the land and food, only to find out that stone axes and bone spears didn¡¯t do shit against even primitive iron blades¡­especially when wielded by a veritable BEAR of a king. Despite the iron weaponry, and decent hide armor, the battle wasn¡¯t completely one-sided. Many of the village¡¯s warriors died, but ALL of the tribe¡¯s warriors did! The ruler of this place, called the ¡°Jarl¡± (heh, isn¡¯t that some sort of Viking term?), decided to take in the tribe¡¯s noncombatants. After all, he needed labor to replace the farmers who died, and even though the tribe doesn¡¯t know shit about farming they can be taught. So now here I am; a veritable slave to some pseudo-proto-Viking wannabe king¡­great. At least I¡¯m not TOTALLY up shit¡¯s creak. It seems that Venradik was the tribe¡¯s doctor, for lack of a better term, and his skills with plants and potions gives him some status to the villagers thanks to his being useful. Hell, I even see him casting a SPELL once, filling his hand with fire, when the fire pit needs re-lighting! So he is a spellcaster and a doctor, no wonder he has some sort of respect from our New Overlords. He was also Laughash¡¯s father¡¯s childhood friend, like an older brother, and took me in after the guy died; so I seem to have SOME protection by association. At least I won¡¯t have to worry about being worked half-to-death in the fields. When it comes to technology, this place seems to be some sort of mix between cavemen and the Bronze age. Only with primitive Iron, thanks to the mountains around the valley being filled with Iron-rich ores. Other than that, education is nonexistent, with no seeming method of preserving knowledge beyond passing your skills on to your children. Even worse, when I tried using hashes to mark the passage of time, Venradik got upset and scraped out my efforts, ¡°Don¡¯t use runes, only us shamans and rulers are permitted to make runes, YOU will get in BAD trouble.¡± Great, I¡¯m going to have to hide most of what I know, aren¡¯t I? Hey, then why the hell did he graffiti me? Something is off here, but I¡¯m not exactly in a position to make an issue out of it! *** It has been about three weeks, or ¡°two tendays¡± according to Venradik, when I am finally strong enough to move about and take care of myself. The valley still has a lot of snow in it, kept there by the shadows cast from the mountain range to the east, but the days are at least warm enough that I don¡¯t see my breath when I go outside. Venradik pushes me out of his dugout hut in the mornings, telling me to, ¡°Go run around, get fresh air, you have been sick too long.¡± Shit, this guys acting like I¡¯m HIS kid isn¡¯t he? I remember doing much the same thing with Paul when he was this age, I¡¯m going to have to act like a normal kid, to get by without being stoned by these primitive screwheads¡­fuuuuck. The mountain valley isn¡¯t completely enclosed, evidently the huge-ass mountain at the Eastern apex of the east-side and north-side ranges was once a volcano, and spewed out a lava flow deep in the past that built up here over time. So not only is the soil here rich from ancient volcanic ash, but the valley slowly spreads open to the SouthEast, eventually becoming just rolling hills covered in woodlands that the villagers have yet to clear. Venradik takes me out there from time to time, when he goes to collect mosses and plants for his elixers, I think trying to teach me these skills. On the days he doesn¡¯t take me to scavenge in the woods, I sneak around the village proper, trying to get a handle on what resources they have to survive around here. Mostly I just see normal, if primitive, people doing basic things like tanning leather or smelting ores. I get further confirmation that I AM living in some sort of fantasy isekai, when I see a shaman/priest chant in a field, and the sapling plants near him suddenly stand tall and vibrantly green, in a widely-growing circle. Other than him, the only magic stuff I see anybody doing is a handsome young woman seal a warrior¡¯s wounds, when he comes back injured after a boar hunt. So, between these two and Venradik, and whomever ELSE I haven¡¯t found yet, magical power is DEFINITLEY something I am going to have to deal with. I wander into the woods after seeing the hunter¡¯s dead boar, safe in the knowledge that I can get some at least semi-safe privacy there until a new hog moves into the territory. Great, here I am in a world of magic, and I get¡­nothing. Maybe I can figure out how that shaman worked his weirdness, or apprentice with the woman to learn that healing-hands trick? Nope, I¡¯m not one of ¡°them¡±, second-class citizen doesn¡¯t even come CLOSE to the status of the tribe¡¯s people, I think after washing off the pig-shit in the cool creak waters, thrown at me by the laughing local kids. At least out here, away from prying ears, I can speak English¡­which oddly enough gives me SOME comfort that I am not stark-raving mad! ¡°What the hell was that voice that brought me here? I understood what it meant, even if I couldn¡¯t understand the WORDS, and they weren¡¯t like these people¡¯s languages¡­,¡± evidently the language Venradik speaks, and that I was speaking to him, isn¡¯t the same as the village language. A language that I can somehow speak anyways, in the same kind of weird-comprehension that lets me speak the tribe¡¯s language. I¡¯m not unaccustomed to speaking languages besides English, thanks to Pia I was at least passable in Tagalog, but that was more of a hobby than a means of survival! Yet somehow I can speak these two additional languages as if I grew up with them? ¡°Is this some sort of cheat power, given to me by whatever force sucked me into this? Great, my big-ass ¡®cheat¡¯ power is the ability to speak a language that doesn¡¯t exist ANYWHERE else¡­damnit, why couldn¡¯t I have some sort of super-powerful weapon skill, or magic power?¡± I hate that I seem to be getting only a half-assed isekai life, like all the down-sides and NONE of the up-sides! And the worst part is, that I am WHINING about it. ¡°I don¡¯t even have some sort of ¡®status¡¯ screen, like a character sheet¡­¡± which is when one pops up in front of my face! NAME: Laughash RACE: Human SUBRACE: Primitive AGE: 5.3 years HIT DIE: 1(1/3) ECL: 1/3 SIZE: Small SPEED: 20 ft. (due to size) ERA: Classical (Primitive, use one Era lower) ABILITY SCORES: Cha 14 (12 due to age), Wis 12 (10 due to age), Int 15 (11 due to age), Dex 13, Con 10 (8 due to size), Str 8 (4 due to age and size) DURABILITY: 0 (due to Small size) SAVING THROWS: Fort ¨C2 (0), Ref +1 (0), Will +1 (0) SPECIAL ABILITIES * Trickery Domain spells: 1 per day. ATTACK: Base Attack Bonus +0, Melee ¨C2, Ranged +2. SKILLS (¨C3 to Social skills from Primitive): [allocate up to 18 skill points] * Charisma-Linked (+1) * * (CbF) Bluff * * (CbF) Disguise * * (P) Use Mystic Device * Wisdom-Linked (+0) * * (P) Survival +2 (0) [+2 from Primitive] * Intelligence-Linked (+0) * * (P) Alchemy * Dexterity-Linked (+0) * * (CbF) Hide +5 [+4 from size] * * (P) Move Silently * Constitution-Linked (+0) * * (P) Control Shape * Strength-Linked (+0) * * (P) Climb * Linguistics +2 (2 ranks) FEATS (Simple Weapon Proficiency): * HD 1: [none due to age] * Human: Chosen by Fate (Trickery) TRAITS (Mystical Hero): * Favored: Skillful ¡Á1 * HD 1: [choose one] * HD 1: [none due to age] * HD 1: [none due to age] SPELLCASTING: * Chosen by Fate CL 1 (+2), Max SL 0th. * * 0th: [choose one Arcane or Divine] SPECIAL ABILITIES: * Advantage: Breaking the Limits (Eldritch Soul) [Charisma score ¨C10 ¨CSpell Level to spell effects] * Extra skill points ¡°Hoe¡­Lee¡­FUCK!¡± I exclaim, shocked out of my little pity-party. The window I am seeing is translucent dark grey, like a faded square of paper fraying at the edges, which makes everything behind it look to be cast in shadows. The text itself if glowing faintly, giving a good contrast to the shadow-page, letting me read it even in the midday sun coming through the tree branches. And¡­Why is it in ENGLISH?! Hey¡­wait a minute¡­this looks like¡­ No way, ¡°No FUCKIN way!¡± I recognize the terms, I recognize the format, condensed as it is. This is a character sheet from The Harrowed Earth! ¡°I¡¯ve been fucking isekai¡¯d into a The Harrowed Earth game?!¡± ¡°Ok, ok, calm down Wayne¡­or evidently ¡®Laughash¡¯¡­I know this system, this is my reality now, so just accept it¡­¡± Nope. Not gonna. I JUST got used to being trapped here in the body of a damn KID¡­now I got to accept that I am in a damn GAME WORLD I used to roll dice in?! I collapse to my knees on the forest loam, clutching my too-thin chest, panting from the sudden panic attack. Is some fucker back on Earth rolling dice for ME? Is my entire new existence just somebody¡¯s RPG game?! Was I EVER real? After nearly hyperventilating into unconsciousness, I slowly calm down and THINK. I¡¯ve been playing this game for months, I used to skim the core rule book for fun while watching the cattle. Nowhere in the book, and not even while playing, is there a mention of self-aware characters in the game¡­the closest thing is an allusion to the player as an Elder Deity called, appropriately enough, ¡°The Player.¡± A kind of tongue-in-cheek joke acknowledging that, if the characters knew they were just miniatures being moved around a battleground, they would view their player as an existential eldritch horror. So ¡°The Player¡± is the only Elder Deity to even SEE individual characters in the seas of chaos the universe floats in, and it gets its jollies from throwing them into the weirdest (and often ironic) situations they couldn¡¯t ever imagine. Well, that certainly describes THIS shitshow that I find myself in, Pinky, I think before laughing at myself nearly hysterically. So, maybe this is some sort of bizarre coincidence, maybe The Harrowed Earth was just one of The Player¡¯s fucked-up jokes? Is the WRITER some sort of avatar of his, or just a guy The Player was fucking with?! Or¡­maybe¡­THIS is my ¡°cheat¡± ability! Looking at the still-floating screen with its fuzzy edges, I see that in several places it says I have choices to make. So I can gain skills and such just by CHOOSING them? How is that NOT a massive CHEAT! And with my knowledge from slinging dice, I can try to optimize for whatever I want, swordsmanship to magic¡­Hmmmm, magic. I remember the rule book having rules in it for using magic to travel across planes, skipping from the real world to places like the Hell Realms or even the game¡¯s version of Heaven. And there was that section about using extreme measures to travel between UNIVERSES! If I can figure out how to do THAT, could I get back to Earth? I could see Paul and Pia again! I only remember the fact the rules exist, something about travelling the tides in the Astral Plane, and that it takes a LOT of potent magic. It could take me years, even DECADES, to build up to it¡­but I¡¯m 5 right now, I GOT that time! With a sight, a release of tension and misery I didn¡¯t even know I had until then, I sit up and look at the screen, Time to cheat like I got loaded dice! *** Ok, first step lets review what I got NOW, to see how I can improve best. So lets go over each item¡­ NAME: Laughash RACE: Human SUBRACE: Primitive AGE: 5.3 years The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Looks pretty obvious, and evidently I was born sometime around¡­Christmas? Really? Sheesh, I¡¯m not fantasy Isaac Newton, am I?,¡± I laugh, mumbling to myself in English. HIT DIE: 1(1/3) ECL: 1/3 ¡°Great, wasn¡¯t there some sort of rule about under-1st Hit Die creatures getting reduced stats? Well I AM only 5 years old, guess that comes with SOME drawbacks. This is going to take longer than I had hoped, if I can¡¯t level up until I¡¯m closer to full-grown!¡± SIZE: Small SPEED: 20 ft. (due to size) ERA: Classical (Primitive, uses one Era lower) ¡°Yep, I¡¯m a tiny shit AND from a near-Paleolithic tribe¡­this tracks. At least once I¡¯m taller I will have longer legs!¡± ABILITY SCORES: Cha 14 (12 due to age), Wis 12 (10 due to age), Int 15 (11 due to age), Dex 13, Con 10 (8 due to size), Str 8 (4 due to age and size) ¡°That¡­is¡­BULLSHIT! I have a LIFETIME of experiences, including almost 10 years in the navy, no WAY my ¡®Wisdom¡¯ is THAT low! Huh¡­well¡­maybe it¡¯s just a carry-over from Laughash¡¯s body? I know my Strength is going to be crapped out, thanks to being a kid, so it kinda makes sense that smaller brainmeat would have struggles processing my 30plus years of life. The size and age penalties are understandable, given everything, but no WAY am I just ¡®average¡¯ Intelligence. I ran the entire munitions stock on a freaking battleship! Must be another carry-over.¡± DURABILITY: 0 (due to Small size) SAVING THROWS: Fort ¨C2 (0), Ref +1 (0), Will +1 (0) ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m a small kid, so obviously I¡¯ll be frailer than an adult. At 0 Durability I¡¯ll be taking double damage from everything, but it should rise to 1 for once I hit Medium-size. My low Constitution and Strength explains the low Fortitude save, and why Laughash apparently ¡®died¡¯ this past winter. At least having a 12 in my Charisma and Dexterity lets me have +1 to Reflex and Will saves.¡± SPECIAL ABILITIES * Trickery Domain spells: 1 per day. ¡°Trickery domain?! Wait, this means I have MAGIC! But that¡¯s ¡®Daily Use¡¯ spellcasting, not the ¡®Prepared¡¯ from Divine Agent or ¡®Pool¡¯ from Spiritualism¡­how the FUCK did I get THAT??¡± ATTACK: Base Attack Bonus +0, Melee ¨C2, Ranged +2. ¡°So I¡¯m a little kid who can be kept at bay in melee by putting a hand on my head, but can hit stuff with rocks fairly well? Yeah, that tracks from all the roughhousing I did with Paul.¡± SKILLS (¨C3 to Social skills from Primitive): [allocate up to 18 skill points] * Charisma-Linked (+1) * * (CbF) Bluff * * (CbF) Disguise * * (P) Use Mystic Device * Wisdom-Linked (+0) * * (P) Survival +2 (0) [+2 from Primitive] * Intelligence-Linked (+0) * * (P) Alchemy * Dexterity-Linked (+0) * * (CbF) Hide +5 [+4 from size] * Constitution-Linked (+0) * * (P) Control Shape * Strength-Linked (+0) * * (P) Climb * Linguistics +2 (2 ranks) ¡°Ok, I¡¯m guessing that the ¡®(P)¡¯ tags are to indicate my Perpetual-access skills. That social-skill penalty¡­yeah, I¡¯m a ¡®primitive screwhead¡¯ as far as everybody in the village thinks, so I get it¡­no need to rub it in! At least I got plenty of skill point to distribute! From the looks of it, Laughash was set up to be Venradik¡¯s apprentice. But wtf does ¡®(CbF)¡¯ mean?¡± FEATS (Simple Weapon Proficiency): * HD 1: [none due to age] * Human: Chosen by Fate (Trickery) ¡°Great, no Hit Die 1 feat thanks to being a freaking toddler, but¡­Chosen by Fate?! That¡¯s a Charisma and Wisdom based feat that doubles your luck, good and bad, while giving you minor spellcasting powers¡­aaaannnnddd¡­this explains the Daily Use spellcasting I got. Not to mention why Laughash is a veritable orphaned slave, but being taken care of by somebody at least in a minor position of respect. But the feat is only taken by characters that are, essentially, the Saturday-night TV show of some eldritch force or entity¡­¡± I look up to the trees and ponder for a bit. ¡°Yep, that CERTAINLY tracks, pretty much perfectly.¡± TRAITS (Mystical Hero): * Favored: Skillful ¡Á1 * HD 1: [choose one] * HD 1: [none due to age] * HD 1: [none due to age] ¡°Well having ¡®Skillful¡¯ certainly shows where all those skill points to allocate came from, the trait gives 16 at 1st-HD and ALSO lets you put them anywhere¡­guess it comes from having both a hunter-type father and semi-doctor ¡®uncle¡¯. And BONUS, I seem to have a Hit Die 1 trait I can actually SELECT, from being a ¡®strong¡¯ character no doubt! I¡¯ll have to put some thought into that¡­I need to start my magical powers ASAP, if I want to get back to Earth in any sort of reasonable time. Glad I got the ¡®Mystical¡¯ Hero Type, it will buff up whatever spells I cast, which could be VERY useful.¡± SPELLCASTING: * Chosen by Fate CL 1 (+2), Max SL 0th. * * 0th: [choose one Arcane or Divine] ¡°And THERE¡¯S my spellcasting bonus from the ¡®Chosen by Fate¡¯ feat. Looks like my Wisdom is too low to get more than the bonus 0th-Level spell each Hit Die. Guess I¡¯ll get the 1st-Level Trickery domain spell once I get that full Hit Die, and my Wisdom goes up. But what spell to take? I¡¯ll have to think on THIS one¡­¡± It has got to be something that I can rely on, to use my Earth knowledge for extra utility. SPECIAL ABILITIES: * Advantage: Breaking the Limits (Eldritch Soul) [Charisma score ¨C10 ¨CSpell Level to spell effects] * Extra skill points ¡°Ok, being ¡®Primitive¡¯ gave me that +2 to Survival AND this Advantage, which it looks like is focused on the Eldritch Soul trait. I guess that since I¡¯m a soul from another freaking REALITY, it makes sense that I would be focused towards ¡®Eldritch Soul¡¯ sorcery.¡± Yeah if ever ANYBODY was the living embodiment of the whole ¡®mysterious relationship with the fundamental forces of reality¡¯ thing, it would be ME, heh. Ok, so it looks like I¡¯m set up to sling spells out of a mystical pool of energy, reality-is-my-bitch style¡­awesome, I know how that works from play Herr Grey. So I got a leg up there. No point delaying it anymore. Between a high Charisma to cast Eldritch Soul spells with, and Breaking the Limits for the same trait, it looks like sorcery is my best bet for getting my¡­er, borrowed¡­ass home. So I call out, ¡°I choose to take Eldritch Soul¡± and¡­nothing happens. Huh, guess this character sheet isn¡¯t voice-controlled. That leaves touch, so I reach out to the image I see and¡­press the ¡°[choose one]¡±? Yep! Now there is a list of all the trait categories: TRAITS [SELECT ONE]: * COMBAT * SKILL * SPELL * SPECIAL * PSYCHIC * MONSTER Ok, it¡¯s a little freaky that I am seeing the ¡°Monster¡± category¡­that¡¯s usually only available for characters with more a-typical abilities, like claws or native spellcasting. Oh, wait, I realize that I HAVE ¡°racial¡± spellcasting thanks to Chosen by Fate. Hmmm¡­I could take something there¡­NO, bad gamer, FOCUS! ¡°Spellcasting¡± first, I got to get the hell OUT of here and back HOME, with a quickness. So I reach out and press ¡°Spellcasting¡± and¡­sure enough, it expands like a drop-down menu on a phone screen. SPELLCASTING [SELECT ONE]: * ARCANISM * DIVINE AGENT * ELDRITCH SOUL * SPIRITUALISM Hey, wait a minute, this list is missing stuff like ¡°Call of the Wild¡± or ¡°Exorcise Supernatural¡±? Does it only show what I already meet the requirements for? Great¡­if so, then I hope like HELL I can remember options that aren¡¯t shown¡­in case I need them. Anyways, complaints about the user¡ªunfriendliness of my cheat ability not withstanding, I press ¡°Eldritch Soul¡±. REQUIREMENTS NOT MET Ok, now THERE is a problem. I have the minimum Charisma score needed for the trait, I KNOW that, and there is no OTHER trait needed first like how ¡°Call of the Wild¡± needs ¡°Wildman¡± first¡­so why the FUCK can¡¯t I select the VERY DAMN trait that I have ¡°Breaking the Limits¡± for?! Calm down, calm down¡­I¡¯ll just let this percolate while I do something else, maybe the answer will come to me. Ok, so if I¡¯m going to mess around with spell-tossing, what OTHER choices do I have? Oh, right, I still have the 0th-level spell from Chosen by Fate to select. So I look over to the ¡°Spellcasting¡± section of my sheet, and press the ¡°[choose one Arcane or Divine]¡± there. I¡¯m going to need something that is versatile, but that I can preferably utilize my lifetime of experience with¡­bring a little of the 21st century and show THEM whose the primitive screwhead! The page I see is replaced by two columns, one labelled ¡°Arcane¡± and the other ¡°Divine¡±, with the Arcane list MUCH longer. Despite that there is a ton of cross-reference, both have detect magic on them after all, but I avoid stuff like that since I¡¯ll get detect magic automatically when I finally figure out how to get Eldritch Soul. Hmmm¡­well, guess since Eldritch Soul ALSO gets spells off the Arcane list exclusively, there¡¯s no point in selecting any Arcane spell¡­so it looks like Divine is where it is at. A lot of these are either useless to me, only useful in limited circumstances (seriously, other than the ¡°firehose¡± option of create water, why would I ever USE that spell in this winter wonderland?), and so on. Divine just doesn¡¯t have the general-purpose versatility that Arcane does, but¡­oh yeah, summon weapon! I remember that as a 1st-level Arcane Spell from when I was playing Herr Grey, and here I can get it at 0th-level, so that it becomes FREE when I get my 1st-level Trickery domain spell? Heh, heh, heh¡­I can ABUSE this, oooooh, yeah¡­ So I press the spell, and confirm the selection when the ¡°ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT THIS SELECTION YES/NO?¡± Then, excited, I hold out one hand and picture my old Colt 1911A2 .45, while saying ¡°summon weapon¡± with FEELING. Nothing happens, ¡°FUCK!¡± Ok, ok, ok¡­no ¡°error¡± message popped up, so maybe I¡¯m just doing this wrong? Let¡¯s take a look at the spell description. I press the spell name on my character sheet, and sure enough, it pops up the spell¡¯s description. So, evidently, it needs a ¡°verbal¡± and ¡°somatic¡± component when being cast. ¡°Verbal¡± for Arcane spells is some sort of related chant or mantra, while ¡°somatic¡± can mean a related action made with the hands¡­like pointing a finger at your target when casting a ray of frost. I remember that from playing Herr Grey, so why didn¡¯t this work? I held my hand like I was going to have a gun in my palm¡­not like I was WIELDING the gun, maybe that¡¯s it? And I just called out the NAME of the spell in the local lingo, BUT the sheet is in English, so¡­maybe if I say it in English? I hold out my hand, fingers curled, like I am already clutching the gun¡¯s grip. Imagining the same pistol like the text in the description says, I call out in English, ¡°summon weapon¡±. YES! FUCK YES! I AM A GOD AMONGST APES!!! There it is, a fucking FIREARM gripped in my hand. Time for a function test. Remember, never trust a weapon until you have fired it. I flip the safety to ¡°off¡±, and grab the slide to rack it. Then there is a as the slide pops off into my hand, and a bullet hits my face as the exposed top of the magazine unkinks and the spring pops into my forehead before the rest of the spring snags. Ok, now I¡¯m starting to think this is a freaking COMEDY show¡­ The bullet on the ground quickly fades away, its piece of the spell losing integrity once it is no longer ¡°held¡± by the caster. Just another reason to take summon weapon, no matter what I pull out of my memories nobody would be able to steal it and use it AGAINST me! But yeah¡­has to WORK first! Why didn¡¯t it? I spent years of my life cleaning and maintaining these things in the navy, not to mention growing up learning to shoot using this EXACT SAME weapon, from my dad. I know that there is a skill check to successfully ¡°summon¡± a useable weapon, but I know this thing BETTER than my own face! Except¡­I don¡¯t, do I. I know the mechanisms, the FEEL of each piece, even the smell of the same gun oil dad used, and that I have been using since inheriting it from him. Yep, smells the same. But I don¡¯t know SHIT about how the METAL is made, do I? So I got the right SHAPE, the right FEEL, even the right SCENT¡­but NOT the correct MATERIAL. Just a look-alike facsimile made from whatever SEEMS right? Great, I¡¯m going to have to take up blacksmithing or something, to get a comprehension of the MATERIALS needed¡­. Huh, hold on a minute, what if I didn¡¯t? What if I just use ANOTHER type of magic to make up the difference? I remember there was a spell somewhere that let you FIND materials by DESIRE, so what if I used THAT to find the ores I need to MAKE UP the gunmetal and such I am missing? Going back to the character sheet, I sweep the spell description to the side so I can see my base sheet again, intent to see if I can figure out what trait I have to take to get the¡­detect metals and minerals spell? And there it is, completely derailing my train of thought. The EXPLENATION for my current frustrations, staring me in the face like a slap with a wet fish: ¡° REQUIREMENS PARTIALLY MET¡±, right next to my still-selected ¡°Eldritch Soul¡±¡­ I need to train, don¡¯t I? In The Harrowed Earth, you cannot take a trait unless you can JUSTIFY it¡­¡°Combat Bonuses¡± from getting into bar fights, ¡°Stalker¡± from following people around town or ambushing people on the road, and so on. And here, in THIS world, evidently you cannot take ¡°Eldritch Soul¡± without USING magic¡­or maybe at least TRYING to? Any way this works, evidently casting summon weapon qualifies as ¡°training¡± for picking up Eldritch Soul¡­great, just great. Is my new life a comedy show for some twisted ancient deity or something? Oh¡­yeah¡­that¡¯s right, it IS. I want to kick its ass sooooo bad right now. Rather than hunt around for a useful spell to make up the difference, it looks like I am going to be summoning a LOT of¡­I don¡¯t know, deer-horn daggers? Great, just FUCKING great, so much for skipping the training montage. Great isekai ¡®cheat¡¯ ability. *** Days pass, casting summon weapon in secret once every day after my spells recover at dawn, working on making IMMEDIATELY useful things. But with only ONE shot at this a day, it is slow going¡­like a mud slide in the arctic tundra slow. After a couple weeks or so (sorry one ¡°tenday¡±), I finally manage to make a bone-bladed dagger that can actually scour a fallen branch, instead of just warping like it¡¯s a rubber Halloween toy. But it still takes me a couple more days to repeat the accomplishment successfully. It is mid-summer by the time I not only manage to get bone daggers semi-reliably, but can start making METAL ones. It is only a blade made from iron ore, similar to a chip of it that I managed to five-finger- discount from the village blacksmith (I refuse to SAY that damn name!). It is less reliable though, I¡¯m only able to recreate the ore accurately around half the time. Guess ACTUAL metal will have to wait until I can figure out how to snag a piece of it to study¡­ And yes, iron ore does NOT make a functional firearm. I couldn¡¯t even rack the slide it was so stiff from grit, gun oil or not. And NOW I can¡¯t even go to the forest to practice anymore! It seems that not only have fresh boars moved into the area, but there are ALSO bears and, supposedly, even ogre-sign is being seen by the hunters from time to time. I don¡¯t know if I believe that, despite there being obvious magic in this world, wouldn¡¯t seeing a BEAR moving around through thick underbrush be MISTAKEN for something like an ogre? Or hell, what do I know, for all I know it could be a troupe of dancing Japanese-style oni/ogres dressed like clowns! But at least I can still ¡°play¡± around the village, like I¡¯m one of the REGULAR kids. An adult found in the smithy while the owner is eating lunch will have the shit kicked out of him¡­a kid will just be tossed out into the muddy village ¡°street¡±. My butt still hurts from the impact. And nobody can recognize an iron ring covered in mud. SUCCESS! After going to the creek behind the village to rinse off the muck, hiding the ring in my diaper-like britches like the most valuable cock-ring in existence (at least to ME), I walk to the ¡°home¡± I share with Venradik. The iron ring then joins the iron ore fragment in a secret spot under my bed-furs, to be used late at night when the fire is banked down to slow-burning coals, and ¡°both¡± of us are asleep. I HAVE to keep them there, since what with being a ¡°filthy savage¡± the village¡¯s kids often bully (read: MUG) me whenever they can catch me around town outside of adult observation. I¡¯ve lost a LOT of lunches that way¡­I can¡¯t AFFORD to lose my study materials! So late at night, once I am sure Venradik is asleep, I pulled out the iron ring and tried to replicate the material with my summon weapon spell. Once I can do that at least two out of three tries, I head to the woods (or now, the undergrowth-filled areas near the creek) to replicate the results. It takes longer than I had hoped to get a 1911 that wouldn¡¯t turn into something like black licorice when I try to rack it. This ¡°iron¡± ring is more like low-grade pig iron than anything else, practically mostly slag, At least SHAPEABLE slag . However, near the start of fall, I FINALLY get one that FEELS like true metal when I grab the slide. With a silent prayer to god, Jehovah, Samuel Colt, and the flying spaghetti monster I pull the slide back and release it. It is truly the most beautiful sound I have ever heard since Paul¡¯s cries when he was born, as the slide jumps forward and racks a bullet. An iron-cased slag-headed bullet, but a bullet none the less. Unfortunately, I¡¯m not the only one to hear it. In my excitement I forgot that Venradik was asleep in a pile of furs almost on the opposite side of the hut¡¯s central fire pit. With a startled shock, he sits up and looks around for the alien sound, and sees me holding a precious iron object. ¡°By the creeping dark Laughash, you need to STOP stealing trinkets from the villagers,¡± he says with exasperation as he lunges from his bed to snatch the firearm from me! ¡°NO! It¡¯s Danger-,¡± I get out in shock, admittedly in English, as his hand grips the top of the slide. And his thumb goes into the trigger well. With a sharp the 1911 goes off. The primitive metal isn¡¯t strong enough to take the gas pressure, practically shattering with pieces tearing into my hand and far shoulder. But Venradik gets it so much worse. The bullet leaps from the barrel as it flower-petals out, tearing into his extended upper arm, and existing out the back of his shoulder. His hand is practically torn apart by the rapidly-fragmenting metal, the fragments of the slide and firing chamber turning it into Swiss cheese! ¡°AAAGGGHHHRRR!,¡± Venradik screams as he falls to his unwounded side, clutching the entry wound as his injured arm flops around in blood-spraying spasms. ¡°VENRADIK! Hold on, let me help!¡± Yeah, still using English, I quickly switch to the local lingo, ¡°I can help, just hold on¡­¡± I need to do this fast. I think the bullet nicked an artery, with how much blood is flowing from under his hand¡­at least the exit wound is small thanks to the low-energy bullet, and practically just seeping in comparison. Venradik may be annoying, what with his condescension and occasional lectures to what he thinks is just a five-year-old, but he is a GOOD man and doesn¡¯t deserve to bleed to death on a packed dirt floor! Almost panicking myself, surprised at how much I¡¯ve grown to care about my erstwhile caretaker over these past months, I look around for something that I can use as a tourniquet. My own wounds forgotten, in my NEED to help the medicine man. I can¡¯t spot anything, the few strips of plant bark or dried plants I see in his potion-crafting area being too fragile. But then I remember the leather necklace he is always wearing, the one covered with decorative stonework woven into it. THAT would work! Quickly moving behind his head I start undoing the leather ties at the back, the seeping blood from my wounded hand actually provides some lubrication to work out the knots. ¡°NO LAUGHASH! LEAVE that al¡­,¡± he says before passing out from blood loss. Finally pulling it off I think, FUCK I got to work fast!, before stopping in surprise. Venradik is gone. In his place, wearing his clothes, and still with the bleeding arm is a thinner figure with obsidian-black skin, dirty bone-white hair, and long tall sharply-pointed ears. Venradik is a freaking DROW?! Well that explains why I never felt his beard whenever he would hug me, but still¡­a BABY-EATING EVIL ELF HAS BEEN TAKING CARE OF ME! I quickly shake my head clear. His race doesn¡¯t matter, his ACTIONS do, and those have been nothing but kind and compassionate towards what he THOUGHT was just an orphan. I quickly use the necklace to tie off his arm between the entry hole in the bicep and the exit hole in the shoulder, realizing that it is probably something similar to a hat of disguise that he used to hide his true nature. I¡¯ll have to ask him about this later. Once I got the entry wound bleeding under control, I reach my damaged hand into the bottom of the banked fire pit, scalding it but also grabbing a fist full of ashes. Packing the ashes into the exit wound does for him what they did for the very-wounded hand I used: helping coagulate and seal the shredded flesh. Just before, with realization and none-too-little pain to remind me, I shove the last of the ashes into the wound in my own shoulder, at least the fragments vanished, so I don¡¯t have to worry about pulling out shrapnel. A bunch of the other tribesmen are at our doorway no, banging rocks on the wooden post beside it to get our attention, I guess knocking is a common custom, I chuckle to myself, obviously in shock. Lightheadedly I crawl to the entryway and pull myself up, before sweeping aside part of the animal pelt covering, to tell them, ¡°Get-the-fuck-out-I¡¯m-busy.¡± ¡°We heard thunder, then screaming! Where is Venradik?,¡± the one in front says, still holding the rock in one hand while clutching his barely-on leather pants in the other. I can¡¯t wait until I¡¯m old enough to get leather pants of my own, this whole semi-diaper thing is getting old FAST. Yeah, still in shock, my mind keeps wandering. ¡°One of his elixers went bad and he had an accident. Now go away so I can HELP him! Are YOU going to put him back together? Have any of YOU been learning healing at his side for years? No? Then GO AWAY and give me the time I need to HEAL him!,¡± I rant before closing the curtain. The look on their faces would have sent me into fits of laughter if I wasn¡¯t so pressed for time and in throbbing pain of my own. Evidently they have never heard a small child speak so eloquently, let ALONE tell them off so well! I guess those ranks in Linguistics were good for something other than learning the local languages. I go to Venradik¡¯s supply of potions. Yeah it¡¯s primitive as fuck, and I know from personal observation that there are some pretty DISGUSTING things in them, but I¡¯ve also seen them WORK. Hunters with wounds that should have crippled them were walking around a couple weeks later, burns that should have left hideous scars healing like new in a few days, that sort of thing. I guess, what with this being a world of magic, things like hedge-medicine actually WORK now. Either that, or he is putting some sort of Drow¡­magic¡­into them. Chanting to myself ¡°this is not dead baby parts, this is NOT dead baby parts¡± I apply several pastes to his bullet wounds, before slowly releasing the necklace/tourniquet until I¡¯m sure that the life-juice is sealed inside. I¡¯m guessing that the reason his shattered hand isn¡¯t spraying cherry soda everywhere is because of the superheated gasses that caused the explosion at least partially-cauterized the injury. That, and his hand smells like fried bacon. FUCK I miss bacon¡­ After applying some of the goo to my own hand and shoulder, This stuff is like smelly superglue, I find a bone needle and some of his wound-sewing thread. It takes longer than I would like to clean out the shattered holes in his hand, sheesh, looks like he has THREE thumbs, this thing is so mangled, before sewing the bits into something hand-looking. Then coating it in more glue-goo, and strapping it straightened out between two pieces of flat-ish fire wood, At least the dried grasses are good for SOMETHING. *** What¡¯s rocking the boat, it is a clear day for fishing on the lake with Paul. Damnit kid, stop rocking the boat, or we might have to turn this into a swimming trip! I am shaken awake by Venradik sometime the next day, evidently having passed out face-first into the dirt next to him, one hand still on the dried medicinal grasses that I used to tie the two pieces of wood together. I turn my head towards him, and his still-Drow appearance, ¡°Are you doing well, Laughash?¡± The first though he has after THAT¡­is for some kid¡¯s safety?! ¡°Yeah Venradik, I¡¯m fine. I used your medicines to help heal the wounds.¡± Isn¡¯t he going to freak you or something? ¡°You called down thunder, how did you do¡­,¡± he peters off, finally noticing that the hand he is shaking me with is dirt-smudged black instead of pinkish-white. Guess he forgot about the necklace, in the shock of being hurt. ¡°Oh¡­oh no¡­I¡¯m NOT a bad Svartalf Laughash, I promise you! I¡¯ll swear by anything you want that I am not going to eat you, spread plagues, or anything else you have heard that we do!¡± He¡¯s almost panicking, lol. Funny, given that all the Svartalf horror stories I remember are ones HE has told me. I guess Laughash heard more¡­they DO seem like bogeyman stories. Or are they more his memoires, from when he was living with other drow? ¡°It is fine Laughash, you have been nothing but good to me, and even are a healer for everybody else. The monsters from the stories wouldn¡¯t do any of that, so YOU must not be a monster,¡± I say as I sit up, and give him a hopefully-reassuring smile. ¡°Here, but you will probably need this.¡± Then I give him the bloody necklace, which I was evidently sleeping on top of, having forgotten that I was holding it in my exhaustion. ¡°Laughash¡­please tell no one, I beg you to keep my secret, so I don¡¯t have to run again!¡± Is he starting to tear up?! ¡°I said it was fine, I will keep your secret until death Venradik, I owe you that much after everything you have done for me.¡± He can¡¯t get the necklace on, unable to knot the leather thongs together with just one hand. So I walk around to his back where he is sitting up, and use my one-and-a-half hands plus teeth to tie it off. Yuck, I guess Drow blood tastes like¡­aluminum? Strange but¡­he IS an alien in a world of magic, so ¡°strange¡± is kind of the new ¡°normal¡± I guess. As his appearance seems to get blurry, then solidifies into the Venradik I¡¯ve known these past months, he sighs in relief. ¡°Wait, the thunder! What WAS that, HOW did you call it?!¡± The wide-eyed look in his eyes is almost funny, making me chuckle a bit as he turns to look at me. ¡° Well, after I woke from being sick so long, I found that I could¡­ummm¡­UNDERSTAND a new set of runes, and even SEE them? The ¡®runes¡¯ I see let me understand everything about my body and soul, and choose how I am to learn and grow in the future. So I chose some minor magic to test it out, only there was an¡­accident.¡± I know I am not being 100% truthful, but in my defense how the FUCK do you describe time travel from another UNIVERSE to a Paleolithic humanoid-shaped ALIEN? ¡°What? How¡­I don¡¯t understand. And YOU, Laughash. You are speaking almost like an ADULT!,¡± says my flabbergasted caretaker. ¡°Huh, well, I think it also let me improve my speaking skills. It is called ¡®Linguistics¡¯, and evidently I have enough in it to understand and use things normally only understood by adults,¡± it¡¯s not a TOTAL lie¡­I DO have two ranks in it! I realize I should keep the whole ¡°not REALLY Laughash¡± thing to myself. After all, since MAGIC and DROW are real here, they probably have a taboo against things like possession. I may not have POSSESSED Laughash, but whatever happened is likely close enough to get my ass burned at the stake! Over the next couple hours until dinner time, with a break so that Venradik can go out to get food and let everyone know he is going to be OK after the ruckus last night, I explain the ¡°character sheet¡± to him¡­and my discoveries with it. Interestingly enough, ¡°Eldritch Soul¡± now says ¡° REQUIREMENTS MOSTLY MET¡±¡­I haven¡¯t looked at this thing in months, it seems like my ¡°training montage¡± is almost over. ¡°I think this is MY fault Laughash. When you were sick this winter you came close to death, and I tried to call upon the Elder Deities to heal you. It seemed to have worked, but there is ALWAYS a price paid for calling upon them, and I have been dreading them coming to collect for the debt. Beware the Elder Deities Laughash, their way of viewing the world is all twisted up and WRONG, so the costs for their gifts often is as well. I thought that I would be paying the price for saving you, but it looks like with this ¡®KRAK-Tur SHE-hit¡¯ and ¡®Chosen by Fate¡¯, that they have decided that their price is YOUR future. They will be watching you SPECIFICALLY, for the rest of your life, as¡­entertainment. ¡°You must KEEP this SECRET, and NEVER mention it again. This power that they have given you has great potential, but it is STILL the product of a bargain with the powers from the original darkness¡­people will be scared of what it could mean. Usually those who make a practice of such bargains destroy tribes and spread the attentions of foul powers, to keep the Elder Deities¡¯ attention and satisfy their bargains. So please, NEVER mention it again,¡± Venradik pleads that night as he is kneeling down, clutching me to him in a hug. It sounds like he is talking about people who have taken Divine Agent for the Elder Deities instead of a NORMAL god, like ¡°Cinda¡± from the Sunday-night game. I¡¯m not THAT, I¡¯m more like...leftover peas on the plate after they devoured the ORIGINAL Laughash. But still¡­this sounds like a good idea. ¡°I swear I won¡¯t Venradik, so it¡¯s fine,¡± hey, wait a minute! ¡°But¡­can you HELP me with learning magic and stuff?¡± He laughs as he holds me gently by my wounded shoulder, ¡°Sure, son. Better to HELP you, than let you accidentally call thunder again!¡± Shit, looks like I now have a hidden DROW as my adopted father. I guess I really AM living in one of those isekai anime that Pia always used to sucker me into watching! CHAPTER 3: The Lonely Prince Are we on? We are? Ok. Hello, this is Heather Lockwood for the Redonkulas Information Network, and today we are here at the Sigurdsson Ranch with Pia Sigurdsson, widow of the Wayne Sigurdsson who was murdered by members of a Mexican cartel last month. It is nice to be here Mrs. Sigurdsson, you have a lovely home. Thank you, Heather. Keeping this place clean is pretty much the only thing I have been able to do to take my mind off Wayne¡¯s death. When I am sweeping the mudroom or washing the curtains, I can almost convince myself that he is just out on the range for the day. I¡¯m so sorry for your loss. From what I¡¯ve heard from everybody I¡¯ve talked to, he sounds like a great man. His loss has left a major hole in the hearts of many, and we are all reduced by it. I appreciate that Heather, but what I miss is my husband, and father of my son. Paul hasn¡¯t¡­been taking the loss well. He spends most nights crying himself to sleep. My apologies for bringing up bad memories, it was not my intention. I¡¯m just here to follow up on the events AROUND his death, with the strange lightning strike and the researchers from Texas University? Well, yeah, I guess people WOULD want to know more about that. Not about a widow¡¯s problems trying to run an entire ranch by hiring ranch hands, to replace somebody irreplaceable. Ok, after the lightning strike and the flash, I grabbed the medical kit from the front room and tore rubber in the Jeep to get to him. But when I got there he was already dead, his body laying against the truck¡¯s side from being thrown by that weird lightning strike. All I could see other than him in the Jeep¡¯s headlights was several half-burnt skeletons. When I couldn¡¯t see an intruder I called 911, and started doing CPR. It took the ambulance over an hour to get here, but¡­Wayne never woke up. His heart never beat, he was gone. It wasn¡¯t until the sheriff came out the next morning to look over the scene, that we discovered the weird pattern scoured into the soil by the lightning. My apologies, but we¡¯ve heard several people claim that this is a hoax. That to get money and attention after your husband¡¯s tragic death, you made the design YOURSELF. What can you say to that? HOW the FUCK am I supposed to have DONE this?! Money? Attention? All I really WANT is my HUSBAND back! There is freaking GOLD inlaid into the earth in some sort of weird design, if I wanted MONEY I would have KEPT the damn gold! I practice my limited magic under Venradik¡¯s guidance. It seems like his magical ability is being able to access nature-oriented spells on top of his normal Drow powers. I don¡¯t know they come from the Call of the Wild trait or elsewhere, or even if this trait system is mine EXCLUSIVELY, and everybody else uses something different. But it still lets him have insights into how my magic is supposed to work¡­insights that I find invaluable. As a result, later that winter, I manage to FINALLY unlock and take Eldritch Soul. I know that, while it gets access to the same spells as the Arcanism trait, it is usually used less for utility-type magic and more for ¡°blow your face into the next COUNTY¡± stuff¡­and for good reason. When you are slinging spells like bullets in a Chicago neighborhood, you don¡¯t want to drive yourself insane at the speed of applesauce, which is how Arcanism works. When casting an ¡°Arcane¡± category spell with Arcanism, you have to make a Will save to avoid turning part of your mind into the aforementioned applesauce, so people typically take it for low-frequency use utility effects such as invisibility and mage armor. Then frequently use it to make one-shot items for later use, or enchanting more long-term objects¡­like Venradik¡¯s necklace of disguise self. But the flip-side is that, unlike Eldritch Soul, Arcanism users can swap out prepared spells just by cracking open their spellbook and setting up a new one, giving them ULTIMATE customizability from one situation to the next. Combined with a few pre-made ¡°just in case¡± items, plus the cash to make them, and you wind up with a highly versatile spellcaster capable of handling any situation. USUALLY with a minimal need to wear a jacket showing how much they love themselves. So why am I taking Eldritch Soul instead? Frankly¡­because Laugash¡¯s Intelligence sucks worse than a possessed vacuum cleaner in a Planned Parenthood clinic on Elm Street. Ok, it¡¯s actually AVERAGE, and much of that due to age, but still¡­compared to his Charisma it is no contest. And I don¡¯t want to have to WAIT several YEARS for it to go up high enough that I can access more potent magics than ¡°make my coffee warm¡± cantrips! Plus, I¡¯d rather utilize the Eldritch Soul¡¯s ¡°Pool¡± points, than risk blowing my brain out of my ass. I got enough problems keeping sane in this crazy situation, without INVITING it! All that¡­and I am FAMILIAR with it, from playing Herr Grey, as well as that nice ¡°Breaking the Limits¡± Advantage that I seem to have inherited from the otherworldly soul currently piloting this meat-mech, and Venradik¡¯s attempts to save his friend¡¯s child. Yeah. And what are the odds that my poor ass would be able to AFFORD all the crushed gems and rare inks needed to DO all that fancy shit¡­not to mention the Arcanism/Enchanting tool options here in the, I¡¯m going to guess Classical?, era are VERY limited! Besides, just because Eldritch Soul isn¡¯t PERFECT for using ¡°utility¡± magic¡­doesn¡¯t mean you CAN¡¯T. My time spent playing Herr Grey proved THAT! Of course since there aren¡¯t any cities around here, and I¡¯m going to HAVE to do some combat magics anyways¡­so why not maximize it? Bippity-boppity-boo, brutal and short . And with Venradik¡¯s insights on the world in general, and ¡°modern¡± magic in it specifically, I got some good advice on what to take. Which is the long way to explain my updated ¡°Spellcasting¡± section of the character sheet. SPELLCASTING: * Chosen by Fate CL 1 (+2), Max SL 0th. * * 0th: summon weapon * Eldritch Soul CL 1 (+2), Max SL 1st. Spell Level Pool Points: 13 (0th-Level are free) * * 0th: acid splash, detect magic, prestidigitation; 1st: color spray, mage armor Acid Splash (Evoc): Orb deals 1d3 (+2 Breaking the Limits) damage [to Con]. [Acid] Color Spray (Ill): Knocks unconscious, blinds, and/or stuns 1d6 (+2 Breaking the Limits) weak creatures [Material Consumed (colored red, yellow, and blue sand or powder)]. [Mind-Affecting; DC 12 Will save] Detect Magic (Div): Detects spells and magic items within 60 ft. (+2 Knowledge:arcana and Spellcraft checks Breaking the Limits) Mage Armor (Conj): Gives subject +4 (+2 Breaking the Limits) armor bonus [Focus Needed (piece of cured leather)]. [Force] Prestidigitation (Universal): Performs minor tricks. (+2 to relevant skill checks Breaking the Limits). Each of these new spells, modified by my Charisma and Breaking the Limits, jack-up their effective ¡°power¡± level up by about halfway to the next-higher Spell Level. And since the potency of spells in The Harrowed Earth is exponential (1st-level is twice as strong and 0th, 2nd-level is twice as strong as 1st and this FOUR times as strong as 0th, and so on), this effectively DOUBLES their usefulness to me. Unfortunately the potency bonus goes down as the Spell Level goes up, but when I get my increase to Charisma WHEN I get older, the bonus will increase even more. Plus¡­BONUS¡­it turns out that while Venradik has to use odd-looking gestures and words I don¡¯t understand in an ear-slithering language to cast spells, I can use MINE by speaking their names in English and doing what I can only describe as ¡°meme moves¡±. Even our same-function spells, like detect magic, we each use with different-looking components. His makes my head hurt if I try to understand what he says, and the gesture looks like he is trying to knit the air with one hand. I can do it by saying, ¡°detect magic¡± and putting the circle of one hand¡¯s finger and thumb over an eye¡­the other fingers don¡¯t seem to matter. According to Venradik, this is because they are both used as mental shortcuts to mix the disparate concepts behind them, and by bringing them together we can ¡°push¡± magic into the resulting construct to create the effect. Untrained magical concepts, or those whose components do not match them, create weak constructs that either cannot HOLD the magic, or¡­worse¡­CAN hold it but will break when filled with magic, ¡°like boiling water in a cup made from fresh clay.¡± So, I guess that the descriptions I am getting from the character sheet, the mechanics I remember from The Harrowed Earth, and cultural idioms like ¡°talk to the hand¡± basically constitute magic-ready concepts in this universe. He thinks I am so good at magic due to a natural gift for it, created by the runes he used to try and save Laughash¡¯s life. I honestly can¡¯t say he is wrong, since those very runes MIGHT be part of the reason my Earth-born soul is in this body! Thanks to studying plant-craft and medicine-making with Venradik, I can easily source the colored powders for color spray, which is consumed like¡­well¡­spell bullets in the ¡°color spray¡± caliber. And to cast mage armor I only need a piece of cured leather, LIKE the very tied-town pseudo-diaper all the kids like me around here wear, ON HAND¡­giving me skin as resilient as the BEST armor around here! Between that and acid splash hitting as hard as an arrow, I got enough combat capacity to take a pissed-off squirrel in a fight, and for everything else there¡¯s the age-old tactic of ¡°color spray and RUN!¡± Then I can use detect magic and prestidigitation (also known as ¡°least wish¡± to those in-the-know) to practice my magical AND survival skills. Normally they would, at best, just ALLOW such a skill check ¨C but thanks to the ¡°to spell effects¡± wording of Breaking the Limits, ANY skill check a spell ALLOWS is¡­by definition¡­part of that spell¡¯s ¡°effect¡±! Of course I checked this out before selecting my spells, utilizing the automatic detect magic spell that just taking Eldritch Soul gave me, first. I¡¯m 6 (going on 40), not an idiot . It turns out that, like in The Harrowed Earth, 0th-level spells are free ONLY while I still have a point left in my spell pool. I tested this by running my pool to one remaining Spell Level through casting mage armor repeatedly, then using prestidigitation to light my thumb on fire over and over again. Even after several minutes of playing ¡°flick the thick¡±, I still had the same amount of ¡°hollow¡± feeling as I started with. Then, when I popped out the last magical butt-nugget for the ¡°FULLY empty¡± sensation, I couldn¡¯t even light my farts. Huh, I might be getting a little jaded. I guess after a YEAR of using it, even full-on physics-fingering MAGIC can get to be old hat . Despite this new batch of toys, I¡¯m still working on summon weapon every day. After getting some skill ranks unlocked by making all those daggers, I decided to try making weapons by hand so I can get even MORE points into ¡°Craft (weaponsmith)¡±. Since it seems I can only get a couple points in from making stone-bladed knives or bone-headed arrows magically. I¡¯m guessing that this is either because whatever force has been governing my ¡°training¡± requirements considers me not OLD enough to learn more, or because the Difficulty Class (i.e. ¡°DC¡±) of making these types of weapons is so low that I¡¯m not ¡°pushing¡± myself far enough to put in more ranks. Hell, maybe I am lacking the ¡°smith¡± part of ¡°weaponSMITH¡±¡­and need to get my thin-ass arms into the forge to smack some metal around. But in any case the experiment was a success, and I can now summon functional wood, bone, and even STONE small easy-to-use weapons almost 100% of the time. But from my attempts to summon a duplicate of my old 1911, this time WITHOUT bullets, I can¡¯t tell if I¡¯m any more accurate or not. Too many failures, with only VERY sporadic seeming successes, so the pool of information is just too small to determine if I am getting closer to a FULLY FUNCTIONAL ¡°wand-of-thunder¡±, as I described it to Venradik. So until I can figure out how to get my near-caveman hands on some decent (or at least DIFFERENT) metal to play around with, I spend my days either studying whatever apothecary-like or magical skills Venradik tries to share with me, or searching the woods for useful and novel things. On days when it is raining too hard to make the walk to the woods, or the wind is blowing too hard to get there without being blown all over the fields, I just sneak around and spy on the folks in the village. I once even made it into the Jarl¡¯s earth-works-surrounded longhouse fortress, but had to run like hell when I heard somebody cry out behind me to stop. Thankfully I had long since plotted out a veritable warren of small nooks and crannies all over the village, and was able to slip away once I got into it. Always know the terrain. Yeah, despite the growing respect I am getting from the tribesmen as Venradik¡¯s apprentice, and even from some of the villagers thanks my knowledge of basic hygiene and first aid from being a navy man letting me fix things even the village¡¯s PRIEST sometimes cannot fix. Turns out telling people to eat their veggies, and stick to drinking ONLY small beer, to cure gout actually WORKS. Of course this doesn¡¯t endear me to said priest, and he often dresses down Venradik like a Drill Instructor who found a prospective seaman¡¯s boots untied. Despite this Venradik always tells me to keep it up, assuming that these ¡°bouts of inspiration¡± are just a side-effect of my brush with the Elder Deities. Or maybe BECAUSE of it? I don¡¯t imagine that a guy who is who-the-fuck-knows how many CENTURIES old appreciates being talked to like a naughty child by somebody barely HALF a century old. But even if I doubt Veradik¡¯s motives, I have ZERO doubts about who keeps putting the village children up to bullying me. That damn wannabe-druid has GOT to be the one doing it, since they ALWAYS seem to find me in the next couple days after I cure somebody¡¯s embarrassing rash, or whatever, and beat the living shit out of me! I know I could use magic to win a fight against a bunch of other kids, none of whom are past 10 winters old, or at least put up a DAMN good showing of myself. But if I do that¡­THEN what? I¡¯d be an ¡°ungrateful savage¡± who ¡°used mystic powers against unarmed innocents in a mere children¡¯s squabble¡±. Plus, I¡¯m TRYING to keep my magical skills on the down-low¡­a surprise resource ceases to BE a surprise once everybody knows you HAVE it. So in the interim, I take my lumps, and deplete Venradik¡¯s stores of poultices. At least he makes an oddly good potato-and-bird stew after each time he find me beat half to shit in our hut. I know he thinks of me as his child, but I think of him as¡­a good buddy? No, a BATTLE-buddy! We might not have slung lead on the same boat together, but we have supported each other in this SOCIAL battlefield, and he has taught me a lot. Maybe that makes him my senior NCO in our little two-man unit? Yeah, I think that¡¯s pretty much it. I know that when I was the ¡°wise old timer¡± I acted much the same way he does, took the E-1s under my wing, looked out for them, and taught them whatever I could. At this point, how about a little intermission? I know you are wondering ¡°why I am writing this¡±, ¡°who am I talking to¡±, and so on. The answer is simple; there is a ¡°notes¡± section on the character sheet¡­with seemingly unlimited room in it (but no search function, just a kind of scroll bar). The more I dictate into it, which I can do by just opening the field and THINKING at it (or speaking while it is open), the more it is filled and the larger it gets. I remember that the same spot on my The Harrowed Earth sheet was just a couple lines, usable for things like hair style or ¡°looks like Marilyn Monroe¡± and so on. But this odd collapsible-and-popup system my character sheet HERE uses is¡­unlimited. Maybe I should be using for what it is obviously intended, like remembering things such as directions or people¡¯s names, but¡­I¡¯d rather use it to write this pseudo-memoire and stay SANE¡­ish. Some of the earlier entries in this I had to write in retrospect, and most of the entries later on have to be made once I get enough privacy to do so, but I am TRYING to write this all while it is at least fresh in my mind. Plus, if I ever make it BACK to Earth, I can transcribe it and give it to Paul to explain where his papa has been all this time. I¡¯ve already missed his birthday once; I don¡¯t want to be unable to answer his questions because of a failing memory, no matter HOW MANY birthdays I have to miss! Besides, Pia will be incredulous that I am ¡°me¡±, after seeing my dead body! Being able to pass this journal to HER will¡­maybe¡­get me my wife back. She was pretty heavily into isekai anime, she MIGHT believe me. Or am I just insanely hoping in vain. Either way, I only guarantee failure by not TRYING, and I¡¯ll take a less-than-1% chance of success over a 0% chance, every day of the week, when it comes to my family! End of interlude . It occurs to me that I haven¡¯t covered the other developments I¡¯ve made since the ¡°incident¡± with Venradik and I uncovering our respective Swords of Damocles. I have managed to invest several points into many useful skills working as an apprentice herb-mixer, helping folks with their ailments, hunting small game and materials in the forest, and creeping around the village over this past year. Then the night-time secret spellcasting studies with Venradik has helped me figure out how magic LOOKS, how it SOUNDS, and so on. As a result, my ¡°Skills¡± section has changed. SKILLS (¨C3 to Social skills from Primitive): * Charisma-Linked (+1) * * (CbF) Bluff +0 (2 ranks) [¨C3 Social] * * (CbF) Disguise * * (P) Use Mystic Device * Wisdom-Linked (+0) * * Heal +2 (2 ranks) * * Spot +1 (1 rank) * * (P) Survival +3 (1 ranks) [+2 from Primitive] * Intelligence-Linked (+0) * * (P) Alchemy +2 (2 ranks) * * (P) Craft (weaponsmith) +2 (2 ranks) * * Knowledge (arcana) +2 (2 ranks) * * Knowledge (nature) +2 (2 ranks) * * Spellcraft +1 (1 ranks) * Dexterity-Linked (+0) * * (CbF) Hide +7 (2 ranks) [+4 from size] * Constitution-Linked (+0) * * Concentration +1 (1 ranks) * * (P) Control Shape * Strength-Linked (+0) * * (P) ClimbUnauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. * Linguistics +2 (2 ranks) I want MORE skill points, I got to increase my magical skills, and I KNOW that I should be getting some from Intelligence¡­eventually. But in the meantime I can utilize skill points from bonus sources, such as my traits and the Human racial bonus skill points, it seems. So I am still creeping around town and spying on the villagers, trying to get the ¡°Stalker¡± trait unlocked, which if memory serves ALSO gives a ton of skill points. Plus I am trying to get some much-needed wilderness skills, thanks to all the hunting in the woods to unlock ¡°Wildman¡±. If memory serves, these two traits give some of the highest bonus skill points, and thanks to having taken ¡°Skillful¡± as my favored trait at 1st-HD, I can allocate those skill points¡­anywhere. Like into my magical skills, heh heh heh. And this was how I spent another year, evidently trying in vain to unlock more traits, until the spring of Laughash¡¯s seventh year. MY second year stuck living a life from his abandoned ¡°save game¡± file. *** Spring comes, and I find myself spending less and less time playing ¡°Dr. Wayne, Medicine Man,¡± and more time creeping around the town or the woods. Turns out using color spray to stun-lock birds and other small game makes them easy targets for a kid with a sling. I may not be bringing in the deer and boar that the ADULT hunters can get, but I always come home with enough meat for the day¡¯s stewpot. With the ability to coat myself in magical armor for half the day using just a few points from my spell pool, relying on acid splash to scare off anything DANGEROUS I come across, I gradually gain enough confidence to creep further and further into the forested hills south-west of the village. Which is good, since it lets me find useful mushrooms and other materials that Venradik can use for his elixers, plus a more fecund hunting ground for small game. But then my stable life got kicked in the nuts, went sideways on an elevator track, circled the black hole, and so on. As I was wandering the deep woods, just far enough away that I could still find my way back easily, I heard the sound of combat. This wasn¡¯t a rare occurrence since hunters would often wind up fighting boars, wolves, and bears. But THAT is the sound of shouting and animals bellowing in their bestial fury. THIS was the sound of men shouting, something making sharp high-pitched sounds, and METAL ON METAL! Has a group of hunters ambushed by hunters from another village, one too far out for me to have discovered? Maybe bandits, people kicked out of whatever village they were from originally, or having left them for whatever reason? Explorers from some far-off land? Whomever is fighting, the noises are coming from over the rise of a hill I am walking across as the time, so I can at least look at the fight¡­and maybe pick up something that could be useful for my magical studies. With that thought in my greedy little mind I quickly hustle up the side of the hill to the top, where I start crawling between groups of bushes until I find a spot just over the other side where I can see the battle. And guess what? Each guess was TOTALLY wrong. Oh don¡¯t mistake me, it¡¯s still hunters from the village, I recognize several of them¡­but they are NOT fighting foreign people. There are about a half dozen still-standing hunters fighting what looks like¡­werewolves? Some sort of wolf-like creature that stands up like people, but are wearing thick hide armor and wielding long-handled axes with gleaming blades. No¡­with BRONZE blades! Time to Strategically Transport Equipment to an Alternate Location¡­specifically, MY greedy little mitts! Bronze isn¡¯t hard enough to make a 1911, but it MIGHT be ductile enough to make a single-shot pistol of some sort, I just had to get my HANDS on some of it. HEY ho, there are several short-length spears with bronze heads on their backs¡­and¡­YEP, some of them are in the ground near the hunters and a couple IN the hunters on the ground. I have a snowball¡¯s chance in Los Angeles of stealing one of those big-ass axes, but a stick with a pointy piece on the end nobody is paying attention to? THAT I could do¡­ I decide to increase my chances of going unnoticed, grabbing a handful of leaves from the forest floor and casting prestidigitation, with the intent to muffle the of my body across the leaves. It may only give me a +2 bonus to ¡°Move Silently¡± across the underbrush, thanks to my Breaking the Limits bonus, but at it is better than nothing. So I sneak closer and closer. Peeking out of the gaps in the forest shrubbery as I get closer, aiming for the area near the back of the hunters¡¯ impromptu defense between two thick groups of trees, where several sticks are poking out from the ground. Obviously those self-same bronze headed spears (javelins?) that the creatures are carrying on their backs. Eventually I get close enough that the trees stop breaking up the wolf-men¡¯s vocalizations, letting me actually hear them¡­yip?! Just then I realize that these are GNOLLS, If memory is correct they are a type of humanoid mutated into a canine hybrid by wild magics, that raid travelers and villages for that sweet-sweet manflesh. I never faced any as Herr Grey, but I remember seeing them in the rule book. With this in mind I hurry down to the stomped-down area behind the tree-based defenses, probably faster than I should, as one of the hunters blocking the gap falls down and gets dragged away into the pack of gnolls. From the sounds that followed, I guess I got their diet correct. As I am reaching from behind a small fir tree for the spear closest to me, a foot STOMPS on it. A small foot in a well-made boot, quickly followed by the full body of a child dressed in well-made armor, his leather cap flying into my face as it leaves his head during his collapse. ¡°No my prince, you MUST stay back!,¡± shouts the hunter who shoved the kid back, sending him stumbling straight into my carefully-laid plans like a bull in a box of lightbulbs. Oh¡­great¡­there I am with a bloody nose, cursing in ENGLISH, while exchanging stares with the freaking SON OF THE DAMN JARL! ¡°What are YOU doing here?!,¡± he says, obviously as thrown for a loop by my presence, as I am by his clumsy ass planted on top of my prized poking-stick. Ok, I admit I was being short-tempered from pain, so maybe I SHOULDN¡¯T have shouted out, ¡°Well I am NOT wandering around the woods like a juicy fresh-cooked deer thigh, about to get eaten by a bunch of damn WOLF-MEN now, am I!¡± Thanks to that little outburst, the hunters that were evidently GUARDING Prince Torden, turn and look at me in shock¡­surprised that ANYBODY was even there let alone a kid from the tribesmen! A reaction that almost cost one of the men in the melee his life, as he barely turns back around and ducks an axe swing in time. ¡°YOU! Take the prince back to the village, before we are overcome!,¡± shouts the hunter/guard nearest us both. What an idiot. ¡°No! While I can get away easily, THIS lumbering pile of rocks would not be quiet enough to avoid being seen or heard. Then we are just two rabbits trying to run away from¡­well¡­a pack of wolves with axes¡­easy pickings.¡± See? I can be diplomatic. At least once the shock of getting socked in the face by a flying helmet fades away. I was going to have to do something TRULY stupid, wasn¡¯t I? I¡¯m going to have to pull out my secret weapon, and save their collective butts¡­but NOT without getting something OUT of it! ¡°I am Venradik¡¯s son, I have some magic. I can use it to save you all, but I want something in return,¡± I say as I stand up from behind the bush, still pinching my nose closed. ¡°Whatever is in my power to gift you, consider it yours, if you can save these men,¡± says Torden as he stands up and holds his hand out to help me rise. DAMN, is this kid for real?! What a noble IDIOT, that¡¯s a fucking BLANK CHECK! ¡°You got a deal¡­and MY spear under your foot, be sure you bring it!,¡± I say as he pulls me to my feet. I move to behind the two warriors, one covered in cuts and nicks from the strikes that got past his shield and through his armor, to tell them, ¡°When I say ¡®spray¡¯ step back, or you will be left for wolf food!¡± And I spin the leather sash I am wearing around so the small belt pouch where I keep the mixed colored powders. Grabbing a pinch from it before dropping the bag so that its weight pulls the leather thong tight again, I hold my hand upwards in front of me. With a strongly spoken ¡®color spray¡¯ I step forward opening my hand in front of me, as if tossing the sand, while the two hunters step back to either side. A brief second¡¯s bright multicolored light fills a 90 degree arc in front of me, 45 degrees to the left and right of my outstretched hand, catching the entire pack in the blast. While one of the two closest to me stops fighting to rub its eyes and whine, the rest stop to shake their heads and drool, their brains restarting like a car whose battery cable has a broken connection. With a sense of savage revenge, the two hunters leap forward to stab the still-aware gnoll to death, as the ones behind me quickly shake themselves out of their amazement. One grabs the prince and starts to run back north, as he clutches MY spear, while the others grab men that are still moaning to drag along. I turn to slowly follow them, when I feel a jerk on my leather sash, and am quickly pulled up into the arms of a hunter fresh from his vengeful gnoll-stabbing. We all run hell-for-leather, the bouncing aggravating my bruised face to the point where I have to lean my head to the side and up my moccasin boots! About a half minute into the ¡°retreat¡± we all hear the remaining gnolls howl and yip, as they come towards us. But for some reason they stop, the sounds of their pursuit ending shortly after it began. Out of curiosity I pull myself up my involuntary mount¡¯s shoulder, to see behind us, and ¡­yuck. They were EATING the dead men that had to be left behind! Remember what I said about trying to keep my sanity? Yeah, let¡¯s put ¡°watching people be eaten by wolf-men¡± on the list of things NOT to do. After maybe 15 minutes of running, getting slower and slower, we eventually stop a couple hills closer to the village. The five remaining able-bodied hunters flop on the ground or against trees, panting from exhaustion after running like the fires of hell were behind them WHILE carrying nearly-true veritable dead weight of their fellows. I take the opportunity to examine the survivors that were carried along, noticing that only two of the three rescued men are still alive¡­one having evidently bled out during the run. But I always bring some of Vendrik¡¯s medicines with me whenever I go into the woods, just in case of a boar or wolf that won¡¯t be scared away by balls of acid. One empty bag of medicines later I am sure that the last two will survive the trip, and have patched up the worst of the wounds the rest have. Fuck, what have I gotten into, and how can I get OUT of this mess? But at least¡­BRONZE!, I think, as I see Prince Torden clutching my (yep, that¡¯s a javelin) prize to his chest, staring at me with obvious wonder and surprise on his gobsmacked face. *** The day wears on before everybody is ready to move again, but thier strength is obviously blown out. Asking around I find that they brought trailbags with them, full of breads and smoked meats to eat while escorting the prince on his hunting trip, but had to leave them behind to carry the injured. After the savage fight, and even more desperate flight, they just DON¡¯T have the energy to carry anybody any further. These asshats left their supplies behind, and need grub¡­ Thankfully, my old navy supply sergeant instincts come to the rescue here. It is a good thing I¡¯m more than just a magic-slinging apprentice apothecary. Prince Torden still has some pep in his step, the benefits of youth and being carried instead of running himself. It takes a bit of explaining and cajoling, but I manage to convince him that stealth and speed are more valuable than wearing his armor on our little food run. So there the two of us are, him in the precious goat hair cloth undershirt he had on below his armor, and me in my leather near-caveman getup, as we travel a few hills away. It takes us almost an hour for a round trip to the pile of rocks I had dug up and placed at the norther foot of a big-ass former tree at the apex of a hill, the remains of a lightning strike sometime in the distant past. Enough of a landmark to be located from several places in the forest, and where I have placed several wax-coated leather-wrapped packages of bread preserves and smoked meats. Between the stones buried in the ground on the underside of the cairn, and the constant shadows cast by the dead tree, it is kept in near year-long frosted shade that lets it serve as a kind of unpowered refrigerator¡­and the stones keep the off any beasts that might be attracted by its errant scent. On our return the hunters have managed to dig out a stone-ringed fire pit, with a low flame going to provide light and warmth in the growing late afternoon shadows. It isn¡¯t enough to fill their bellies after splitting the packages open and sharing them out, but it IS enough to put pep back in their step. So, with several village hunters singing my praises and back-slapping me like I was one of them fresh from the hunt, we march into the settlement that evening. With a wave to them I take my broken-off bronze prize, and move to walk down the path around the edge towards the tribe¡¯s huts, when the prince himself steps in front of me, ¡°Where do YOU think you are going? Father will want to reward you himself, and I still have gifts to give to the boy who saved my men!¡± With an overly-friendly yank on my arm, I feel my safe and secure life of semi-anonymity fading away further and further behind me. A little more with every step towards the Jarl¡¯s fortress. Fuck my life, I¡¯m screwed aren¡¯t I? With a sinking heart, and after a few attempts in vain to escape the veritable electric chair, I am drawn to the earthen ramparts around the longhouse and handful of outbuildings, inside of which I can see the doors of the Jarl¡¯s longhouse. Why does it feel like I¡¯m walking to my own execution? I am practically frog-marched into the longhouse by one of the prince¡¯s guards, past another guard at the open log gate between earthworks, which forms a kind of castle-wall gate. As the longhouse¡¯s doors open with a low resounding groan, I can almost hear the ¡°Imperial March¡± playing in my mind¡­Is there going to be a Sith lord on the other side? I¡¯ve never seen the Jarl except at a distance, I don¡¯t even know his NAME?! How am I going to beg for my life, if I don¡¯t even know his name? Understand, the only times I have seen him is when the tribespeople were gathered at the fencepost gates between the huts and the town, twice. Each time was for the execution of a tribesman for some crime, and those were¡­brutal. I don¡¯t want MY skinned-still-breathing carcass hanging from my wrists, over the middle of the path! With an uplift in his voice, Torden calls out, ¡°Father, you would not BELIEVE what happened on my hunt!¡± before he goes running to the pelt-covered throne at the other end, where a giant-muscled grey-bearded man stands up after talking to¡­Yep I¡¯m boned, that¡¯s the freaking priest who hates my guts. Torden runs to his father¡¯s smiling arms, his voice muffled by the Jarl¡¯s bear fur cloak, before he holds the kid at arm¡¯s length and shouts, ¡°Where have you BEEN!¡± his angry voice mitigated by his obviously concerned look. ¡°It is sunset, you should have been back my mid-afternoon!¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry father, but¡­oh yeah, we were ambushed by wolf-men and nearly died, isn¡¯t that great!,¡± Shit, this kid¡¯s an adrenaline junkie. A well-dressed woman in her late 20s or early 30s comes out about from the back then, to pick up large child even younger than I am who is stumbling around the back of the room swinging a wooden sword as he shouts, ¡°Ulf-men! Kill ulf-men!¡± With a kind smile at me, she picks up the little boy and carries him into the back, ¡° Now now, my boy. You need to get cleaned up for sleep-time¡­¡± I have a hard time not laughing at the dumbfounded look on the Jarl¡¯s face. Unfortunately my barely-contained distracts the old priest, who turns to see and then glare at me, ¡°Borden, I think THAT foul little thing is responsible for your worries.¡± Well, there goes my new life, hopefully I can sneak out of captivity and then Venradik and I can look for a new tribe or something . At least I still have two food caches, those should help us run! Something of what I was thinking must have shown on my face, because after looking at me the Jarl laughs at the priest¡¯s suggestion of my culpability, ¡° No Sikan, I think this child has mischief on the mind, not murder!¡± Thank you, Jarl¡­BORden? Like TORden? Sheesh, at least he didn¡¯t name the kid ¡°Borden Junior¡± or ¡°Borden the Second¡±, but what do I know¡­maybe such a naming scheme is the local equivalent? ¡°That¡¯s right father, he SAVED me and half of the guards AFTER we were ambushed!,¡± Torden nearly shouts with glee, his arms swinging as he gesticulates wildly under his father¡¯s hands. ¡°Then he fed us and tended our wounds afterwards, so we could make it home,¡± Torden is practically vibrating with excitement as he proceeds to tell the story, Borden having to duck back quickly to avoid a poked eye from a wild flail. Rapidly he keeps up the story, with a lot of ¡°and then¡± statements, and focusing mostly bragging about our deeds. By time he is done, you¡¯d think I flew into the battle on a black horse, and laid waste to them all with lightning bolts after Torden single-handedly held them off with a stick, before pulling mana from heaven to feed them all like some angelic champion. Borden humors the kid, all while Sikan¡¯s face grows redder with anger, but once he winds down the Jarl turns to one of the guards next to me and commands, ¡°So, what REALLY happened?¡± At least the guard¡¯s rendition of the tale was recognizable, but he starts with stuff I didn¡¯t know, as they gathered for the prince¡¯s hunting trip that morning. When I appear in the tale, evidently they had already lost people to wolves, and fallen back to the tree-blocked spot I found them in, after having to abandon their game thanks to the wolves that harried them along the game trail they were following. Then I come in, having snuck through the brush to meet up with the prince, and help them escape the remaining wolf-men. I used a fragment of the northern lights to stun and distract the creatures, letting them run into the woods with enough time to get out of sight and eventual escape. After stopping to catch their breath and make a fire, I healed their worst wounds and provided food to get them mobile again. Ok, THAT sounds closer to what happened, but I am coming off sounding a LOT more heroic than I remember . Now I am feeling less doomed, what with sounding like a rescuer and the benevolent look growing on Borden¡¯s face, ¡°So child, is what he said true?¡± ¡°Yes my lord, as far as I can remember it sounds like what happened,¡± I say, I¡¯m not going to ruin his good opinion of me! ¡°No Borden, the tribe child MUST be lying, why was he alone in the forest if NOT to treat with the vile things within?,¡± Ooohhhh yeah, that priest HATES my guts! ¡°Sikan brings up a good point, WHY were you in the woods?,¡± he says, my chances of getting out of this with my skin attached getting smaller with every word. In a rush I try to explain, forgetting that I¡¯m supposed to be a 7 year old kid, and talking like an adult, ¡°I often go into the woods when it is warm, to hunt small game for food and find plants for Venradik, the tribe¡¯s medicine man, who is ALSO my adopted father. He trusts me to be safe since I have been gifted with magic, the very same magic that I used to save your son. I am not a warrior, nor a hunter, but my magic lets me distract and protect myself so that if pressed I can FLEE! And so, when I was going deeper than normal because I had a hard time finding squirrels and such after so long hunting them closer by, I heard the sounds of battle and crept in to investigate. I thought that some of your hunters might be getting attacked by bandits, or scouts from another village intent on attacking yours, but it turned out to be gnolls! So I helped and¡­you know the rest.¡± He just stares at me in wonder, Uh oh, I think I went too far. Then he speaks, and I KNOW I did, ¡°Gnolls you say? NOT wolf-men? You can tell the difference? You have a surprisingly sharp mind for a child, young¡­what is your name?¡± Yep, I let my maturity slip out, ¡°Laughash my lord.¡± I¡¯m bowing my head, looking at his feet, trying in vain to appear ¡°less¡± than I revealed. I quickly look up, as he tells the other guard to go fetch Venradik, and then hesitantly walk to him after he waves me to join him and Torden. Looking up as I walk to the two, Torden at a side table stuffing his face with breaded meat buns brought out by the woman from before, evidently his mother. I see that the priest is practically apoplectic. ¡°Go feed your belly, kids should be well fed, and you look like you haven¡¯t had a good meal since birth! Hahaha,¡± says the Jarl with a smile on his face. So there I am at the same side table, eating surprisingly tasty treats and making agreeable sounds to Torden¡¯s rambling diatribe about whatever. Sorry I wasn¡¯t paying any attention to him, lost in my own worries while starting at the Jarl and the priest on the other side of the room having a quiet argument. Eventually the same hunter that was guarding me returns to join the remaining guard, who was enjoying a flagon of mead and small loaf of bread brought to him by the¡­Queen? Is THAT the right term? And there, a step or so behind the returning man, was Venradik looking about as worried as I was, ¡°Jarl, I have returned with the man you called for.¡± With a sharp but quiet word to the priest, Borden steps back to the foot of his primitive throne, before sitting in it with a barely-concealed wince, ¡°Venradik, healer of the tribesmen, is it true that this child here is yours?¡± ¡°Not quite Jarl Borden. I adopted him and have been teaching him the healer¡¯s arts, ever since his father¡¯s death two winters ago,¡± Venradik said, standing proudly and speaking with a strength of voice I didn¡¯t know he had. ¡°If he has offended you then please, I plead to take his punishment in his place. I should have taught him to behave better, so in truth his failure to do so is my fault more than his!¡± Fuck Venradik, I think I¡¯m going to cry. Now THAT is a father! Although some of his sincerity loses its potency, since I know he can utilize his magic to escape if push comes to shove. In a benevolent tone Borden informs him, ¡°I think that there is some misunderstanding here, healer. I did not bring you into my presence to yell at you for being a poor father, you are evidently NOT. Nor is clever young Laughash in trouble, despite what others might say. I brought you here to discuss your place as his adopted father¡­I would like to take that place.¡± Say the fuck WHAT?! ¡°Pardon, my lord? I do not understand. We are just simple tribesmen, taken into your lands under your kind care, following our attack on this place. You have children of your own, gotten with your wife, as well as the health blessings of Sikan the priest. WHY would you want to take in a healer¡¯s apprentice, from a people that were your ENEMIES so recently?,¡± he replies in puzzlement. You go Vendrik! The second-to-last thing I want is being forced to deal with some iron-age court intrigues! Of course the VERY last thing I want is to get executed, but since being stuck around that priest will pretty much mean the same thing, just delayed¡­ ¡°Earlier today he selflessly travelled into the deep woods, where he rescued not only several of my warriors using potent magics, but also my firstborn SON. Evidently you taught him VERY well, healer,¡± Borden says with a chuckle. ¡°I seek to take him in, as a brother to Torden, in hopes that my son picks up SOME of his intelligence and maturity. And until he does, at least I will be comforted in the knowledge that Torden is playing with somebody who can get him safely out of whatever trouble he gets himself into,¡± the Jarl says while giving me side-eye, or maybe Torden who is standing gobsmacked beside me. Half a meat bun is still in his mouth, forgotten at the news that his father wants to adopt his new friend. ¡°Isn¡¯t that GREAT Laughash! We will get to play together ALL the time! I can show you my favorite places to fish. We can practice swords together, my teacher is SO mean. And we can go on adventures together EVERY DAY!,¡± says the proto-fratboy while he grabs me in a bear hug and lifts me from the ground, pieces of meat and bred go spewing from his overexcited smiling face. Great, just perfect. I¡¯m doomed to be a glorified babysitter for a kid in DESPERATE need of ADHD medication?! While he is shouting his joy in my ear I miss a large part of Borden and Venradik¡¯s conversation, but at least I catch the end of it after Torden puts me down. Or at least Venradik¡¯s side, ¡°Very well my Jarl, Laughash will return here tomorrow with his belongings. And he shall visit with me every day of the full moon, to continue his studies.¡± Ok, THIS I cannot allow, I NEED Venradik¡¯s help with my magical studies¡­I can¡¯t ask that damn priest for help, after all! ¡°Jarl Borden, please, Venradik has been a father to me for as long as I can remember! How can joining your household is to be a reward, if I am to then lose so much time with the man who has raised me, and taught me to behave in the very ways that have earned me such a reward? Can we not bring him into your service as well? Surely you have a station that a man with such skills with plants and healing could serve?¡± Time to put those skill ranks in Linguistics to use, and maybe I can shift some of Borden¡¯s good will from me to Venradik. It may not be the Gettysburg Address, but I got to try SOMETHING¡­I can¡¯t lose access to my only real ally in this time and place, except for three days out of every damn month! Borden just grins before responding to me, ¡°Hearing such mature words coming from such a young man¡­this is not something I think I will EVER find normal . But you make a good point, even if I am to be your father from here on, it WOULD be poor manners to deprive you of the man that has made you the good person you have become. And besides all that, maybe having this man around will grant SOME of his obvious wisdom to Torden over the coming years. So¡­very well. Venradik the healer, you shall move yourself to the empty house outside my fortress, and tend to the care of my village. Also, I appoint you the caretaker of the fortress grounds themselves. The sod on my fortress wall needs a caretaker to maintain it, as do the plants kept inside. And so this shall be YOU, that way Laughash shall have access to your teachings in the years to come, and your skills as a healer will always be on hand for whenever Torden inevitably needs them,¡± proclaims Borden, to the obvious fury of the spitting-mad priest. And THAT is how I fucked myself, my easy casual days vanishing from my grasp. That¡¯s what I get for not being able to leave well enough alone. CHAPTER 4: On A (mis)Adventure PAUL¡¯S DAIRY The scool cowsilensor gave me this book, and said that when I cannot talk to others I can write what I feel here. I hope this works. I miss papa every day, more and more and more. Mama says it will get better when I get older, but I do not WANT to forget him! Mama doesn¡¯t know how sad she gets when she does not think I am looking, but I see her crying. Does SHE want to forget papa so she is not sad anemore? Logan, dad¡¯s old friend from the nay-vee, came to visit when all the polees cars were stil here, but he missed papa. He has been staying in papa¡¯s shed, his ¡°dice cav¡± from when papa¡¯s friends would come over for diner and games. All papa¡¯s books are still in there, but meen mister Logan won¡¯t let me in to look at them! Years have passed, and now I am 11 winters old. Howdy, my erstwhile Elder Fuckwit, who is probably the only one reading this¡­ever. Pia has likely remarried by now, and Paul likely doesn¡¯t even remember my FACE, thanks to you. If I ever EVER get the chance, I am going to kick you in the whatever-passes-for-nuts¡­and I¡¯m NEVER going to stop! But, on the off-hand chance that I manage to make it out of here and get back home, guess I might as well describe what has been going on. I¡¯ve had a lot of shit happen to me between now and my last entry, and I even recorded them. However I later deleted them¡­there¡¯s only SO many times I can complain about something before it even gets to ME! So instead, I¡¯ll just summarize what has happened, and we will continue from there¡­unless I later delete THIS as well. Meh, time will tell. Let us start with my ¡°character sheet¡± and its changes. Thanks to getting older, while having time to study and practice, I¡¯ve had some pretty¡­SIGNIFICANT improvements! AGE: 11.4 years HIT DIE: 1(1/2) ECL: 1/2 That¡¯s right; I¡¯ve managed to go up a whole FRACTIONAL Hit Die¡­woo-hoo! But, and this is a BIG one, that DOES have the perks of getting me some ability score penalties removed AND another trait. ABILITY SCORES: Cha 14, Wis 12 (10 due to age), Int 15 (13 due to age), Dex 13, Con 10 (8 due to size), Str 8 (4 due to age and size) FEATS (Simple Weapon Proficiency): * HD 1: [none due to age] * Human: Chosen by Fate (Trickery) So not only have I managed to get rid of the Charisma penalty, but I¡¯ve ALSO gotten my Intelligence penalty down to just 2 points. Still no luck getting the skill points for raw Intelligence, but this HAS allowed me to improve my skills with the +8 points from Wildman, and jacked-up my ¡°Spellcasting¡± powers. SKILLS (¨C3 to Social skills from Primitive): * Charisma-Linked (+2) * * (CbF) Bluff +3 (4 ranks) [¨C3 Social] * * (CbF) Disguise * * (P) Use Mystic Device * Wisdom-Linked (+0) * * Heal +2 (2 ranks) * * Spot +1 (1 rank) * * (P) Survival +4 (2 ranks) [+2 from Primitive] * Intelligence-Linked (+1) * * (P) Alchemy +4 (3 ranks) * * (P) Craft (medicine) +2 (1 rank) * * (P) Craft (weaponsmith) +3 (2 ranks) * * Knowledge (arcana) +3 (2 ranks) * * Knowledge (nature) +4 (3 ranks) * * Spellcraft +4 (3 ranks) * Dexterity-Linked (+0) * * (CbF) Hide +7 (2 ranks) [+4 from size] * Constitution-Linked (+0) * * Concentration +1 (1 ranks) * * (P) Control Shape * Strength-Linked (+0) * * (P) Climb * Linguistics +2 (2 ranks) SPELLCASTING: * Chosen by Fate CL 1 (+2), Max SL 0th. * * 0th: summon weapon Summon Weapon (Conj): Creates a non-magical mundane weapon you are familiar with. [Summon] * Eldritch Soul CL 1 (+2), Max SL 1st. Spell Level Pool Points: 15 (0th-Level are free) * * 0th: acid splash, detect magic, prestidigitation; 1st: color spray, mage armor Acid Splash (Evoc): Orb deals 1d3 (+4 Breaking the Limits) damage [to Con]. [Acid] Color Spray (Ill): Knocks unconscious, blinds, and/or stuns 1d6 (+3 Breaking the Limits) weak creatures [Material Consumed (colored red, yellow, and blue sand or powder)]. [Mind-Affecting; DC 13 Will save] Detect Magic (Div): Detects spells and magic items within 60 ft. (+4 Knowledge:arcana and Spellcraft checks Breaking the Limits) Mage Armor (Conj): Gives subject +4 (+3 Breaking the Limits) armor bonus [Focus Needed (piece of cured leather)]. [Force] Prestidigitation (Universal): Performs minor tricks. (+4 to relevant skill checks Breaking the Limits). Plus, I get the ¡°Track¡± feat as a bonus feat¡­so I can now actually JOIN Torden on his hunting trips! Yeah, I¡¯m as excited by that as the last shit I took. Of course this hasn¡¯t stopped Torden from dragging me along, which is how I actually finished picking up Wildman, and training my extra ranks in Knowledge (nature) and Survival skills¡­thanks to the tutelage of the hunters that guard him on these trips. I seem to become something similar to a mascot for them, given that I will pay attention to their lessons while Torden just climbs trees chasing squirrels, or whatever. I swear this kid would sell ALL the ADHD medication, if he was ever on a commercial for it. ¡°But what about your gun summoning,¡± I can hear you asking. Well, I¡¯ve managed to get the slag-iron 1911 to be reliable about 70% of the time, and a bronze one up to pretty much 100%. But I dare not even TRY to fire that iron one again, and the single test firing I did of the bronze model (using a string, a couple wedged rocks, and a handy tree for cover) showed that it was just as bad at staying in one piece. But, I HAVE managed to get a bronze single-shot blunderbuss to work about 9 out of 10 times, give-or-take. So what if the barrel looks like Fudd¡¯s after that wascly-wabbit puts a carrot in it, since it only has ONE shot anyway. I think going low-tech is the better option, at least for now. *** Part of being Torden''s adopted brother is having to live in the Jarl''s longhouse, and attend his court. Supposedly, it is to learn the skills I would need to serve Torden as a competent aide when he takes over, but it invariably just turns into Borden asking MY advice on various matters. Advice he RARELY takes, usually only when he is leaning that direction anyways, but this doesn''t seem to matter to Sikan (the I-eat-nothing-but-lemons priest). Yeah, I''m still getting shit on by my least favorite man of the cloth. At least I only have to deal with his sniping in court, AND his attempts to sabotage me when I am out on my own. So if I could avoid the flying goat shit he eggs the village kids into using, and stop him uprooting my Alchemical herbs, just by staying inside the fortress: why don''t I? Well the answer to THAT is because Borden and his wife got BUSY back in the day. In addition to a rarely-seen daughter from his previous wife, Torden has a sniveling spoiled rotten little brother named Badrik (yes, the same sword-swinging kid from my¡­interview). A couple years younger than myself the sweet cherub-cheeked apple of EVERYONE''S eye who can do no wrong, and who shits rainbows. The priest''s little tricks are annoying and often embarrassing, but BADRIK is a stereotypical spoiled prince with NO sense of ¡°too far¡±! That goat shit I mentioned? I''d rather dodge it flying through the air, than have it shoved down the back of my tunic...in a flagon of scalding-hot water. So yeah, I take every chance I can to get away from a kid NOBODY will discipline, who hates my guts because I ¡°have¡± his father''s ear, and that I get punished for even shouting at to stop throwing stuff at me when we eat dinner. I swear, the kid must have some kind of super power, to not get in trouble from THAT! On the flip side of my new family relations is the Jarl¡¯s wife, Freygi. She is a still-pretty woman in her early 30s, with platinum blond hair, and a positively infectious smile. She makes the family¡¯s meals, from butchery to bakery, often teaching the village¡¯s young women how to tend a household when they don¡¯t have mothers to do it themselves. And Borden DOTES on her like a lovesick teenager, it¡¯s honestly kinda heartwarming. She treats me like I¡¯m her own son, so all of my current clothing that is not a hand-me-down from Torden has been hand-made by her. She even has Venradik helping her out, growing cooking herbs and vegetables in with the plants for his elixers. She may be twice as tall and MUCH paler-skinned that Pia, not to mention about as far apart in hair-sliders as it is possible to get, but she somehow still reminds me of my wife every day. Probably why I avoid her as much as I can. I just can¡¯t handle the constant heartache, not to mention the reminder that even if I was able to get back to Earth the day I woke up here¡­Pia would STILL no longer be my wife anymore, since I died and was a freaking CHILD! Yep, I¡¯m DEFINITELY going to develop calluses on my nut-kicking foot. *** The next spring after I rescued Torden, we get a few hundred people wandering into the valley, carrying whatever possessions they had and starved nearly half to death. It seems that the gnolls we fought were part of a scouting force, and the tribe as a whole decided WE weren''t worth the risk since WE had magic...so they harried and eventually overran another village about a hundred miles south-west of us. A fishing village on the fjord, which thankfully limited the avenues of attack. The village''s warriors stayed behind to weather the siege, and to buy time for their women, children, elders, and other non-fighters to escape into the late winter wilderness. So over a thousand of these people took much of their smoked fish, tools and other amenities, and struck out to find a NEW homestead. Notice the discrepancy in numbers there? Yeah, over 2/3rds of them died in just the past 40 or 50 days until they found US. Not only is even the tail-end of winter here BRUTAL, but the NORMAL wilderness is full of wild animals like bears and boar, that do not take kindly to being disturbed ESPECIALLY during the snow season. Add to this a world of magic filled with monsters, without warriors to defend them, and it gets WORSE. I was there when their surviving elders beseeched Borden for entry into his village''s walls, a privilege only a handful of the TRIBESMEN have gained! Then again, we DID attack him, so yeah, I get it. I remember all the ¡°trucks of peace¡± and other terror attacks, child trafficking, and so on from the muslim ¡°refugees¡± America took into OUR walls un-vetted, honestly Borden has done a MUCH better job. I even have managed to find out WHY he executed those two tribesmen so brutally. I won''t say why he did it, because I still hold out hope of showing this to my family, but I TOTALLY agree with his actions! So when he asks the priest''s advice, Mr. Smug McTwitson says to kick them out, and keep HIS village safe from THEIR bad fortune. My advice was, ¡°Take them in, I heard Sikan is ALWAYS taking men into HIS home overnight, often more than one at a time, so he MUST have enough space to....FIT...them.¡± Ok, I admit it, I''ve heard no such thing, I just wanted to tweak Sikan''s beak after that unveiled allusion to kicking out me and the rest of the tribe. Don¡¯t get into an insult fight with a former U.S. Navy seaman NCO, unless you want to wind up losing it! But, to my surprise, Borden LAUGHS and agrees! Mostly. He said that they could make camp in the low wooded hills west of the village, help his warriors clear the land, and live upon whatever they could reclaim by next winter. So long as they swore fealty to Borden and the crown of Askfj?r (the village''s name translates to English as ¡°Ashfjord¡± by the way), and with obvious joy they agreed. Then the fucker bids ME to see to their accommodation until such time as they have roofs of their own. I don''t know who was more disappointed between us, but at least the elders appreciated my speaking on their behalf. That isn¡¯t to say they respected ME, and thus would really listen to whatever I had to say. Well¡­at first. After a tenday (see? Even I can learn to use the phrase!) of getting hosed by skunks, finding their dugout huts filled with water runoff, and OTHER things I warned them about, the new villagers FINALLY decided that the kid who has spent years running around those very hills MIGHT know where is good to put up their homes. I guess THEY can learn too . they manage to get the entire group of refugees housed by late spring thanks to my guidance on where the fruit-bearing trees and bushes are more densely populated, where dangerous animals keep their dens, and places that the ground is too unstable to build. Which still gives them enough time to plant some summer crops, in those semi-cleared fields. I say ¡°semi¡± because the newcomers do not cut down the already-food-bearing plants, instead putting in crops AROUND them. And in areas where the fields would be too stingy, they plant fresh apple tree saplings, to prepare for the future. All of this alongside seeing me utilize magic to help eliminate boar dens, and fixing their injuries with my healing skills, has earned me not only THEIR respect¡­but also made the two priests that they brought with them into my own erstwhile allies! Yes, I FINALLY have access to SOME clerical-type people to answer my questions! An unexpected benefit of this is it has almost doubled the number of children in Askfj?r, and the NEW ones actually don¡¯t HATE me. Over time this slowly combines to undermine Sikan¡¯s influence in the village, and I rarely have to tolerate bullying by kids anymore. Except by Badrik, he¡¯s still 100% dick. So, with my newfound popularity, I eventually reach 11 a little over three years after the refugees arrive. And THIS is when my life derails, of course. All because of Torden¡­AGAIN. *** Torden has reach 14, found girls, and like so many guys before him he has let them ruin his life. Even worse, he took ME down with him! There is a girl from the former refugees that he likes, but his father does not, due to her ¡°loose¡± reputation. But, when has a teenage boy listened to good advice with the promise of poontang in front of him? The father and son argue about it hammer-and-tongs, on a pretty much daily basis, until everybody ELSE in the fortress has come to just¡­tune them out. A young buck in spring, knocking heads with the old grey-furred stag? Must be Tuesday. That is until I wake up in the middle of the night to Torden shaking my shoulder, having evidently wedged his huge frame into my tiny-ass former-storage room. Yeah it¡¯s about the size of a postage stamp. Just BARELY large enough for my twin-sized bed, a chest/table with all my clothing and personal items (at least those that I am not hiding under a cut-out piece of the floor in a corner), and a chair. Despite being ¡°royalty¡±, the rest of the household doesn¡¯t live much better, just LARGER. They ARE back-country nobility in the ass-end of the far north, not far removed from cavemen, after all. ¡°Get dressed for an adventure, my brother! But be quick about it, we have to leave FAST,¡± says the guy almost twice my height. At a guess it is a mix of the ancient Elven genes mixed into Laughash¡¯s DNA that make him, and so many OTHER tribesmen, so small in comparison to the linebacker-like villagers. But it could ALSO just be generations of malnourishment¡­or fucking magic pixie dust, how the hell am I supposed to know? ¡°Hurry little Laughash, I have the BEST idea EVER!¡± Great, what disaster is he cooking up NOW? So a quick change into my ¡°surviving Torden¡¯s fuckery¡± outfit, made with Venradik¡¯s assistance to be as close to fur-lined Kevlar camo-gear as I could manage here and now, I shortly find the two of us up in the hills tossing pebbles at the back shutters of a small house. I got a BAD feeling about this¡­ After a few minutes the shutters open, and Torden¡¯s crush is yawning into the night while holding a lit taper from the house¡¯s banked firepit. Yep, guess I can see the future now, too. I know JUST where THIS is going, passes through my mind with an exasperated sigh, as I start mentally ticking ways to mend a lovestruck heart and knocking them off a checklist. Lots of beer? We got plenty of ale back at the longhouse, and since Venradik has taken to being the brewmaster it ain¡¯t COMPLETELY horrible anymore. Sports games with friends? Meh, I¡¯ll just have to get his guards together to take him out boar hunting, not too hard. Picking up easy chicks until he¡¯s too pooped to pump? He¡¯s a KID, but if push comes to shove all I have to do is point out all the OTHER village girls that he¡¯s been ignoring the advances of these past months, any of whom will seem like SAINTS to his parents after THIS little debacle. As I¡¯m lost in my reverie, only half-listening to her telling him off for the STUPIDITY of thinking she¡¯d run off to live with him in the woods (after I set them up with a fresh home of course), I¡¯m shocked out of it, ¡°Then I¡¯ll just have to PROVE to you it is easier than you believe, come on brother, let¡¯s go find me and my new wife a home!¡± Wait¡­what? I hear a feminine squeal fading into the distance behind us as the dumb blue-balled lummox drags me behind him towards the ¡°sunset¡± mountains that run westward from just north of Askf?rd, ¡°Wait¡­WHAT?!¡± Guess I couldn¡¯t keep it in. I don¡¯t get my arm free until we are long past the village¡¯s outskirts, and it is a good few hours of panting as I follow the long-legged freight train until we reach the foothills past the woods, before Torden FINALLY stops to catch his breath. The next thing I know it is dawn, and Torden is kicking me awake with his toes, evidently having kept watch all night after I collapsed from exhaustion¡­and he is THINKING for a change. Once I am awake he takes out some smoked goat meat (his favorite) from the bag he had prepared, and splits it with me. ¡°I know that you are more cleaver than me little brother, EVERYBODY knows that, and that I am probably being foolish for not seeing even HALF of the problems with this plan of mine that YOU see. But you don¡¯t know what this fire in my chest FEELS like, because for all your wisdom Laughash¡­you are COLD inside. I hardly ever see you smile, and you seem to have been mourning something ever since I first met you that day in the woods. It is like you have closed your heart off, so that you may never be hurt again, and EVERYBODY can tell. I love you brother, and I hope that in helping me find love with MY life, your clever eyes can see how to find happiness with YOURS. Besides, I¡¯m not SO addle-witted as to think I could pull off founding a home in the wilderness WITHOUT your aid¡­or that if I left you behind that you wouldn¡¯t be able to find us for father before I even LEFT the village!¡± Shit, I spend so much time ridiculing Torden for his frat-boy personality, that I¡¯ve missed just how INSIGHTFUL the little shit can be, haven¡¯t I? With a heavy sigh, I stand up and resign myself to the inevitable, ¡°Well are you coming or not, you hairless bear? It isn¡¯t like a decent hidden mountain home is going to fall on from the sky, and knock some SENSE into you, on its own is it?¡± He¡¯s going to head out if I¡¯m with him or not, but at least THIS way I can probably get the kid back home safe after he realizes what a fool he has been. If I go back NOW all I¡¯m going to get is my hide torn off by his father, for leaving Torden to his own wits¡­and I¡¯d deserve it too, since I will have gotten the innocent jackass killed. *** It is a bit over a week later (FUCK this ¡°tenday¡± shit), and we are staring to run low on supplies as well as frustration tolerance. We are MUCH higher up the mountains than either of us feel comfortable with, having had to backtrack and route around large hunting creatures¡¯ territories time and time again. I don¡¯t know what they were, guess my tracking skills aren¡¯t THAT good yet; just places with fresh bloody trails dragging off ahead of us¡­and neither of us wants to be the NEXT meal! Eventually I find something promising: a crevasse in the rocky mountainside with a thin trickle of water draining out of it, and the mixed musk of animals blowing by in the breeze. I can¡¯t tell WHAT animals, or if they are SAFE, but Torden smells goats and his nose for his favorite food has ALWAYS been better than mine, so we go inside. I¡¯d say we are maybe halfway up the mountains at this point, when we come across a large jagged-cliffside hidden valley filled with clover, down the back of which a stream flows to make the place more damp than one would expect. To Torden it must look like the promised land, because of all the goats! There must be a good few HUNDRED of the sure-footed fiends here, probably trapped long ago by the too-sheer cliff faces between levels for even THEM to get out. As we start walking around the edge of the valley, looking for a good place to set up Torden¡¯s love-nest, I am torn. On the one hand it looks like the dumbass¡¯s whole plan to elope might actually WORK, since his food would more-or-less take care of itself, and there¡¯s even a water source. On the other hand something about the place just makes me feel¡­wrong. Like I am missing something on the tip of my brain. Then there¡¯s the sound of bees buzzing around, shocking given the altitude and total LACK of flowering plants, and I look around to find them despite feeling like they are constantly buzzing around my ears. So I grab Torden¡¯s arm to pull him away from the hunt for footholds to climb, only to see his blank face staring into the distance, his slack mouth open and drooling. I¡¯m standing there dumbfounded, doing my best Torden impersonation, at a loss for words when I hear voices far above us talking in loud deep bass. THEN it hits me what was so strange about the place, what I have been missing. These jagged cliffs looked kind of like STAIRS¡­just with steps up to a dozen feet apart. Giants! I quickly run through what I know of them from Venradik and the tales told in town, which is honestly not much besides ¡°big and tough¡±. Remembering what I can recall from my copy of The Harrowed Earth all these years after reading it, I can only recall that all the ¡°True¡± giant species have some sort of psychic magic in common, tend to live in mountainous areas far from civilization, and that SOME of them take humanoids as slaves to do fiddly labor jobs they are too immense to do themselves. Oh, and that the only way to effectively fight them is with Adamantine weapons or LOTS of magic. Just great, we got NONE of the first, and too little of the second. So as the ground shakes near us, I purposefully let out a little drool, and try my DAMNDEST to keep a blank look in my eyes. Surely if they wanted to kill us they could have just landed ON us, which means that this is some of their psychic magic. Maybe hold person, which means these are likely the ¡°takes slaves¡± type¡­meaning we could have a chance at ESCAPE later! If they are just the ¡°people are crunchy¡± type, and don¡¯t feel like pancakes, I swear I am going to become a ghost just so I can spend the rest of eternity haunting TORDEN¡¯S ghost! The giants pick us up, and get their leg day in carrying us up the back side of the valley to the accordion-style divots in the mountain¡¯s side, laughing and chatting in their language the whole time. Huh, nice to have confirmation that it is only Laughash¡¯s languages that I can somehow understand, not ALL of them. Eventually we are carried to a large open-air outside hall dug out of an expanded cavern, cast in shadowed illumination by the gigantic rent in the ceiling to the south, where they talk to an even BIGGER giant on a throne made out of a carved stalactite¡­stalagmite? Meh, whichever one comes up from the ground. As the giant¡¯s king questions the smaller giants, I take the opportunity to look around from the corner of my eye, examining the OTHER giants in the hall with us so as not to risk the king ¡°feeling¡± my eyes on him. They all look like grey stone statues, in desperate need of a hair cream supplier, even the females being TOTALLY bald. Guess that explains the need for Adamantine weapons to do more than stub one of their toes, they look like they are made from mobile GRANITE! Each appears to be wearing clothes made from stitched-together layers of goat hide, when not wearing plates of thick slag-iron held together by thicker-linked steel chains, and often a mixture of both. Just before our escorts carry us away I see one of the unarmored ones carrying in a plate of roasted skinless bodies, but this time even MY nose can tell they are freshly-fried goats. The last thing I see as we leave the hall of the mountain king is the giant king himself popping one in his mouth like it¡¯s a chicken nugget, before his head tilts to the side and turns to face the way we just left, almost meeting my eyes before I turn my head down. They¡¯re telepathic¡­can¡¯t risk it. *** We are deposited in a smaller collection of caves near the back of the complex, where their slaves strip us of our belongings, before giving us goatskin robes to wear which are obviously made from fragments of torn giant¡¯s clothing. I notice that the largest proportion of the slaves are humans, with the second-largest being orcs. Well¡­I am GUESSING they are orcs, since I haven¡¯t really seen them before, but they fit the description. The humans appear to be mostly of the same dark-haired phenotype as my (erm¡­I meant Laughash¡¯s? meh, whatever, I¡¯m leaving it in) tribesmen, but not ALL of them. There are even half-elves and a handful of elves, which I discover later as I get increasingly familiar with my fellow slaves over the next days. Torden gets put on mining duty with most of the orcs, due to his size, whereas I wind up spending my waking hours in a circle sewing hides together to make clothing for our captors. It isn¡¯t long before I figure out that the main language spoken by my captors is the same as the giants¡¯, just in a less rumbling-thunder-over-rocks timbre. Probably thanks to their having grown up in captivity. Some, however, still remember their old languages and it is from THESE folk that I manage to figure out what kind of fire Torden and I have jumped in to. These are ¡°stone¡± giants, a race of slavers that live in the far north at eternal war with their ¡°frost¡± giant cousins. They utilize their prodigious mind-magic to enslave those they capture, as well as to ward away predators from their settlements, and then interrogate their captives for information about other resources. THIS settlement has been mining shiny rocks for hundreds of years, eventually breaching a nearby dwarven thane, tripping a war between the two natural enemies. But when the dwarves came through that tunnel they found themselves bloodied by those very same mining slaves, and were eventually captured then enslaved in their weakened state. Now the giants keep a TIGHT mental leash on the dwarves to prevent their rebellion, and are forcing them to work in the forges making tools for the other slaves as well as weapons and armor for their new masters. As a result the former dwarven thane¡¯s population is a fraction of what it once was, and has had all metal stripped from it, to turn it into a giant mushroom farm that is tended by the children of the various slave races.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Great¡­not only slave labor, but CHILD slave labor, what a WONDERFUL world I have found myself in, I think, trying to come up with a plan. Evidently Torden and I only managed to escape being brain-tortured to death for information, thanks to the recent acquisition of the dwarves cutting down on their labor needs for now. But even if we COULD stay here, I don¡¯t want that hothead to get himself killed trying to organize a slave rebellion any more than I want to spend the rest of my life sewing underwear for some granite-skinned huffalaunt! And who knows WHEN the local equivalent of a chicken wrangler is going to decide it¡¯s time to replenish the flock¡­I have GOT to get us out of here! After another few days of feeling out my sewing circle fellows, it becomes obvious that they are all too accustomed to their lot in life to even risk THINKING about trying to escape. No wonder, what with the giants able to pluck errant thoughts of rebellion from the mental winds. Which begs the question¡­why not from MY mind? Maybe a side-effect of getting sucked into another world? Or was my Will save just too high the first time, and NOW I¡¯m just lucky enough not to have gotten noticed? Whatever the reason, I need to bury any rebellious thoughts DEEP down, just in case. So I set out to do what every other slave has done around here¡­time to learn how to speak giant-ese! Turns out¡­it¡¯s not that hard. The language is very similar to the two I already know, just with different intonations and some minor pronunciation changes, plus a few sentence structure tweaks. It¡¯s a lot like speaking pig-Latin, but doing it Yoda-style. Maybe this is just another benefit from those Linguistics skill ranks? Yeah, that¡¯s probably it, otherwise there is NO way I could have picked it up enough to be fluent in just eight days! Huh, maybe I should get a job at the United Nations when I get back¡­then I can tell them ALL what I think about them! Hey, I got to laugh to avoid going whacko, and I¡¯m fresh out of ketchup and mustard to make funny faces out of. So a few weeks later with THAT task out of the way, I set off to go get my erstwhile brother from the gym, and get the ducks outa this pond! Good thing too, I am so fucking SICK of mushrooms! Surprisingly, slipping out of the sewing circle is pretty easy. Ready with a quick lie about having to hit the shitting-closet down the hall (after having sabotaged the one in THIS room), I stand up and walk out casually¡­just waiting for somebody to call me back to tell me to get back to work. But nobody does. Then I start making my way to the place that I¡¯ve been told the forges are located, ready to tell anybody I need a new shitting-bucket made for the sewing room if I¡¯m asked why I am not at my assigned task. Since the old one has an extra (read: acid splash made) hole in it¡­but again, nothing. I go past the mushroom-stalk-powered forges down to the mines to find Torden, a quick lie on my lips that I am running an errand for our giant masters to fetch somebody for ¡°questions¡±¡­and STILL nothing. Ok, I am officially NOW weirded the FUCK out! I stop one of the humans heading walking towards me with a box of ores, asking him in my newly-proficient Giant, ¡°I need to find the newcomer. I have a tas-¡± ¡°The laughing idiot is back that way, down the third shaft on the left, alone. Just follow the bellowing,¡± he says before giving me the cold shoulder-check as he carries his box further up the way I came. This mystery is getting deeper and deeper, my dear Watson. I follow the rather rude porter¡¯s directions, past other tunnels busy with life, to one shaft with the sound of Torden¡¯s laughter ringing out of it¡­but no sounds of metal on stone. Following the light from the phosphorescent moss that seems so prevalent down here, I find my brother sitting and panting. He is buck-ass naked except for the sweat, laying atop the same kind of goatskin smock that we are all wearing while leaning against a long-handled metal sledgehammer. Being fed water and cooked mushrooms by a bevy of girls from all the various races of slaves, ¡°What the FUCK Torden?! I¡¯ve been working my fingers bloody every day of our CAPTIVITY, while YOU have been drowning your broken heart in whatever piece of gash you can find?!¡± Shit, lapsed into English at the end. Yeah, I¡¯m not ashamed to admit it; I was so thoroughly PISSED, however despite my linguistic fuckup my intent came across. But hey, in my defense, I¡¯d been stressed out for WEEKS that this asshole was being worked to death under an overseer¡¯s whip so¡­yeah, pretty shocking sight. ¡°Would you fine girls please leave my brother and I alone for a bit? It looks like he is upset by something, and I¡¯d HATE for you to see us fight,¡± Torden asked with his usual big floppy-eared dog smile, and the girls laugh before almost skipping down the hallway. ¡°I knew you would find me Laughash, no need to be angry, I¡¯ve just been doing MY part to help out your escape plan!¡± Huh?, ¡°What?! Help me out HOW, by drowning your broken heart in a broken MANHOOD? Oh, how about by chasing off anybody who MIGHT be strong enough to help, with your constant laughter IN AN ECHOING TUNNEL, so that NOBODY can stand to help us? Have you organized a rebellion, or found a secret escape tunnel, or DUG one? What is it ¡®dear brother¡¯, do tell ME how getting finger-fed by a bunch of floozies will help us escape being made into slaves WHILE LOOKING FOR A HOME FOR YOU AND YOUR LADY-LOVE!¡± With every sharp-witted point, I could SEE him flinching in pain and¡­so help me¡­it felt GLORIOUS to vet my spleen after years of babysitting the short-sided ass! But eventually I had to wind down and catch my breath, giving him a chance to talk. ¡°I drove away my fellow miners because I KNEW that YOU would come up with some method of escape, where obviously THEY either could or WOULD not¡­being too in love with their own captivity to ever dream of open skies and freedom once more. After I found out that you can get FAVOR here for mining the most resilient deposits, I set myself to mining THIS one because everybody ELSE said it was impossible to get the ore out of the wall...but I managed it anyway. While I have not managed to find or dig a tunnel out, I HAVE dug a nice-sized hole¡­and used it to secret away the things we WILL need to get back home again!,¡± then with a flourish he stands up, shoving a nearby boulder out of the wall. Revealing a fairly sizeable cache of goatskin hides, smoke-preserved mushrooms, water skins, and¡­yep, even iron tools. I¡¯m just leaning over as I look inside, flabbergasted that my idiot brother managed to come up with so much as a half-baked GOOD idea, let alone THIS, ¡°Oh, and before I forget¡­here, as an apology.¡± Turning around I see him drop two small finger-length plates of metal into my hand after he pulls it up, ¡°I know how you THINK I forgot about that wolf-man spearhead all those years ago, but I¡¯ve seen you looking at it and thought you might like to add to your collection. I got given these by one of the dwarves in the smithy tunnels when I asked for samples of what ores to look for down here, I thought you might like them.¡± One was a silvery metal with an oil-like shine to it, the other looking to be iron with a shimmer of pale-white and gold in it. I knew EXACTLY what these were, since I had been FANTASIZING over their descriptions in The Harrowed Earth nearly every day after my first failed attempt at replicating dad¡¯s old Colt 1911¡­Mithril and Adamantine. ¡°Who are you, and what have you done to my short-sighted self-obsessed big brother?,¡± I say, nearly tearing up, but unable to take my eyes off his present. ¡°Laughash, I think that is the FIRST time you have ever called me ¡®brother¡¯ without a sneer in your voice!,¡± Torden says with a barked laugh. Damnit¡­he¡¯s right. Leaning down to my height and throwing his arm over my shoulders as I quickly grip these treasures to my chest, ¡°Come little brother, let us get out of here before one of them comes back with ANOTHER little gift I am going to have to hide in this hole, in her attempt to buy my affections for her own!¡± I don¡¯t know if he was talking about them trying to bribe him for some one-on-one time, or to get into their smock, and before he has the chance to tell me I slip from under his hug and start pulling things out of the wall to go over. *** I tell Torden my plan for escape, mostly just to shut him up, and get him to stop speculating where people might overhear him. We¡¯re going to the old dwarven thane, taking supplies to the kids working there. Originally I was going to volunteer us to do so, to get bags of supplies, but thanks to Torden we can skip that dangerous step. Now, anybody who sees us walking towards the tunnel which leads to the thane will simply assume we are just part of the normal hauling detail, instead of having to try and talk our way onto it. Once in the dwarven thane we circle the place, looking for a side tunnel WITHOUT tracks, since that will mean nobody has taken it since the thane fell¡­and thus, it just might be the way to the SURFACE. Then it is just a matter of marking tunnels as we go, doubling back when we hit a dead end, until we EVENTUALLY find our way outside. But we will have enough food, and goat bones covered in faintly-glowing moss, to do so. Turns out it takes what I am estimating to be six days to find a route that is just a couple hours long, and no you do NOT want to know what we had to do to keep the moss glowing that long. My kingdom for some two-ply. Why rely on the world¡¯s worst TP instead of using prestidigitation to make light, you ask? Because the candle-flame I can make just isn¡¯t BIG enough to do¡­well¡­shit, for lack of a better word. This will probably change as I get older, but for NOW it just doesn¡¯t make enough light to keep from stumbling around. So, despite finding AN exit, we have to camp for a while until the sun comes up. The errant breezes we felt while down in the dark show there are doubtlessly OTHER exits, but many of the passages we had to double back from had giant holes, were thin cracks, or were otherwise impassible¡­who knows how long it would take to find another one? So we stayed here and waited on this small ledge, until the sun rose and we could see how hard the climb down would be. Turns out, from the angle of the mountains we could see, we weren¡¯t too far from home. I¡¯d say around halfway between there and the giant¡¯s settlement as the crow flies. The rising sun also showed us one of the trails that we took further down below us, maybe¡­30 or 40 feet? The side we were on wasn¡¯t a sheer cliff, but still pretty steep, while covered in south-facing brush and saplings stuck into the near-vertical wall¡¯s cracks. Not a QUICK free-climb, but a doable one, and looking to be easier than some of the rope-climbs I¡¯ve had to do while I was in the navy. The path below us even had an upturned lip on the other side, so we could toss down our bags without fear of them rolling off the side of the mountain never to be seen again. So, leaving behind our shitty moss-covered torches, we began to climb down after tossing the bags. Torden went first, ¡°To catch you if you should fall Laughash.¡± But I think it was just him being eager to get home faster. Either way it was slow going. While Torden has a longer reach and wider stance thanks to his bigger frame, I made good time despite having to stop every now and again to cast prestidigitation for a firmer grip. Then something I should have thought of happened, FUCK I can be so DENSE at times! One of the plants that Torden was gripping tore out of the mountainside, RIGHT as he was reaching down to grab another one. At his startled shout I look down, only to see him try for and fail to grab another plant¡­and fall backwards. He hits the path below with a crackling sound like crushed bubble-wrap, before fetching up against the bags and stopping¡­motionless. ¡°Fuck, fuck, FUCKING FUCK!,¡± I shout in English. Throwing caution to the wind I start rushing down, in my panic to reach him and see if he is OK, before nearly falling myself about halfway to the bottom. That sudden spike of fear from my own brush with death gives me the clarity I need to realize, I can¡¯t help HIM if I¡¯M dead myself. Then I resume casting prestidigitation and taking my time to get down safely. Reaching out I feel for his jugular under the thin start of his beard coming in, YES! The lummox is just too STUBBORN to die! Then, as if the universe believed my thoughts to be a challenge, I heard a rumbling growl behind me just as I fell a through my knee on the ground. Quickly looking over my shoulder I see the mother of all Neanderthals carrying a small tree bole in one hand, coming out from under an outcrop in the mountainside, invisible from above thanks to the scrub brush. It looks back at me and smacks its lips like a cow after fresh cud, or to be exact AT TORDEN! NOT going to happen, lummox is NOT on the menu today, boys! A quick mental inventory reveals that I am out of my usual ¡°fire and RUN¡± option, being unable to cast color spray without either my usual pinch of three-colored dust or¡­STUPID! I left the ¡°useless¡± moss torches back up top! But maybe I could distract it, get it angry enough to chase ME and MAYBE get a chance to double back and tend to Torden? ¡°Hey UGLY!,¡± I shout standing up, before hitting it in the (bearskin?) smock with an acid splash, then turning and running. With a hissing bellow I can hear its wide footfalls behind me, slowly closing the distance, and it starts cursing at me¡­in Giant? Well, something LIKE Giant, but like the retarded inbred step-child of it. Shit if I keep going like this, I¡¯m just going to die as a tired appetizer, before it doubles back to Torden! Then I see what I need, run a bit more, and stop to turn around. It is maybe 30 feet behind me, giving me enough time to line up and whip off another acid splash into it, before I have to jump aside to avoid becoming one with the stone¡­or its club, coin-flip either way. But this puts me on the outside edge of the path, which it realizes must mean I have nowhere else to go, as it turns and smiles at me. But this time I¡¯m smiling back as I raise up my bronze punt-gun to fire upwards, to the precariously-tipping boulder coming out of the mountainside above the path. As the (I¡¯m going to go with ¡°ogre¡± here) reaches up to shield its eyes from the flash, it is staring straight upwards when it receives some impromptu dental work courtesy of Rocky Boulder-Boa. Meanwhile I¡¯m running BACK towards Torden, to get out of the way of the landslide I just caused! After I am outside of the landslide zone, and done panting, I look back, Going to need a new way down, but THAT is tomorrow me¡¯s problem. *** At least that ogre was good for SOMETHNG, I think dragging Torden on a sled made from his goat skin smock into the ogre¡¯s cave. From the look of some of the bones around here, this used to be a BEAR¡¯S cave, until that ogre ate it. Torden wasn¡¯t waking up. From the bruising on his chest under the slave¡¯s smock, and the feel, he has at LEAST three broken ribs. One arm isn¡¯t looking too hot either, being a mass of bruises pretty much everywhere from the bicep down. We still have plenty of mushrooms foods but I don¡¯t have any healing magic, and all my emergency medicines were taken by the slaves back in the¡­giant¡­batch of resources, where they don¡¯t even know I am gone¡­ Am I REALLY that desperate, here? Before making an OBVIOUSLY STUPID plan, I use the bear¡¯s skull and some of the small trees that fell with Torden to make a mushroom broth, then feeding it to him a sip at a time. On the general principle that, ¡°The body cannot heal without fuel for the fires of life¡± as Venradik often says. Then I go outside to see about finding my way down, maybe I can SLIDE the big ox to the forest? And I find the path I need, just 10 feet below where the one that the cave is on ends, and it looks kinda steep BUT it goes down ALL the way to the forest. Where were was this on the way UP?! No way in HELL I can get Torden down THAT without ending up buried UNDER him, let alone carrying him down TO it! So¡­time to make a withdrawal from the Bank of Bad Ideas. I make a quick trip up to, then down from, the tunnel entrance that afternoon. I had to empty out then carry up one of the sacks, before bringing down one of the moss torches. I am NOT going to risk being without my full arsenal of spells again! Then I head down to the thicker brush besides the trail I spotted, and spend the rest of the day ferrying bunches of brush up to the cave for firewood. As evening starts to set in I use some more bones to hang Torden¡¯s ruined smock over part of the cave¡¯s entrance, before stacking rocks in the rest of it to make a half-way useful windbreak that can keep the heat in. The rest of the night is spent using some broken bear bones to shave off a patch of that same torn leather smock, then sewing it into a small pouch on a thong I can hide beneath my OWN smock. No point in getting supplies to take care of him, if Torden DIES before I get back! The last thoughts I have that night before feeding Torden some more broth, is that if I he DOESN¡¯T wake up, at least his body should be safe until Borden¡¯s men can come and retrieve it. After my execution. *** Dawn arrives, and it is time to do the single DUMBEST thing imaginable, outside of marrying a feminist. I can practically HEAR my old drill instructor shouting in my ear, ¡°Just because it is the ONLY idea you have, doesn¡¯t make it a GOOD one, just you a DUMB ASS!¡± I couldn¡¯t agree more. And then I start climbing BACK into the slave pits. Thanks to prestidigitation and the path I remembered from yesterday, it goes much faster than the first trip up, almost like fate itself is pushing obstacles out of my pathway to hell. Oh yeah, calluses ON calluses, you hear me you eldritch asshole?! Taking the spare moss-torch I ¡°refuel¡± it, before starting my trek back, using the trail markings from the trip out. At least my ass doesn¡¯t feel like a bad night at Taco Bell by the time I get to the mushroom farm, but I have to wait, dousing my smelly-ass (ass-smelling?) torch beneath my smock as I wait for the runners CURRENTLY in the cavern to leave. Might as well go over my checklist: * Food, and a LOT of it, preferably including GOAT if possible! It is amazing what you miss when you are stuck in prison¡­or recently ESCAPED one. * Weapons. Even if we can make it down to the forest, I am unfamiliar with this section of it, and have NO IDEA where dangerous creatures might be! * Medicines. I can make SOMETHING once I am in the woods, but we need to GET there FIRST, and Torden might not be mobile without some pharmaceutical help. * Water. Can¡¯t rely on streams below the treeline being free of little nasty surprises, best to carry our own for a while. * Camping Supplies. As cold as it is up HERE, at least the south-side is FACING the sun all day. Under the forest canopy, at this time of year, it will get cold enough to FREEZE overnight. That¡¯s quite the list, and I¡¯m going to have to bring it back a piece at a time. Joy. Welp, looks like the path is clear, I think before heading back into the cavern to wind my way to the slave pits. For some reason my nose starts to ache. Blaming the cold I rub it until the ache fades away. In hindsight, I think my subconscious was probably trying to tell me I wasn¡¯t as sneaky as I thought myself to be. Let¡¯s knock off the hardest stuff first, since I can get much of the rest on the way back anyway. I take the route into the slave pens, then turn to go towards the forges instead of the mushroom piles. We are going to need WEAPONS to fight off any animals or monsters in the woods, plus at least a small cookpot and metal spit. Torden¡¯s little collection of penis-surcharge loot already included several small knives and metal pegs, so at least we should be able to fell smaller trees, but there is NO way that bear¡¯s skull will survive the trip back¡­maybe not even the trip off the mountain. And we¡¯re not going to be able to fight off a gnoll hunting part with pocket knives and bone-tipped spears. So¡­we need some ironmongery! It is easy enough finding the forges, but NOT so easy getting the attention of one of these brain-drained slaves. The only time any of them pays attention to me is after I get between them and their ore cart, This bruise on my butt hurt for DAYS after I did that! However I notice that the further back into the forges I go, the older and more broken-down the dwarves get, which goes along with them getting less and less busy. Is it some lingering sense of dwarven solidarity, trying to protect their elders, maybe? In any case I take a gamble, and go to the cave furthest in the back, where¡­sure enough¡­there is one white-bearded dwarf inside sitting on his anvil. Evidently snoozing, with his face on his hands, atop the long handle of a hammer. Cautious of the boot-shaped bruise on my ass cheek, I carefully move up to shake him awake while saying in Giant, ¡°Wake up old-timer, the masters call on your services.¡± With a snort his rheumy eyes crack open to stare at me uncomprehendingly, before he starts and seems to realize I was speaking Giant. ¡°Eh, what? The masters called for ME?!,¡± he says querulously, with the beginnings of sparking pride in his dying eyes. Not QUITE what I meant, but sure, let¡¯s run with it. ¡°Yes, they demand the best of weaponsmiths be called upon to make something, and everybody says that was YOU, sir.¡± Maybe I can get some decent weapons out of the guy, even give him a bit of his old pride back before he dies¡­ ¡°Naw kid, you are just trying to play a joke on me. The masters forbid making weapons back when they captured us, all we make NOW are tools for slaves, and iron bars for the masters¡¯ own forges,¡± his voice sounding incredulous, and evidently with reason. Ok¡­change of tactics, after all a ¡°weapon¡± is just a tool for killing things, ¡°Not playing with you old man, they don¡¯t want a WEAPON, they want a special TOOL made for a special miner. The masters recently captured a human who can break the hardest ore from the wall, but he is going too slow and breaking too many tools to do it. They want YOU to make a wea¡­er-TOOL capable of letting him work nonstop, without it breaking, since you are the best of the old weaponsmiths.¡± Hmmm¡­let¡¯s see about making grandpa Sugurdsson proud and it isn¡¯t like anybody ELSE will get the joke to call me out on it¡­ ¡°Eh? What pick could POSSIBLY hold for so long against ¡®mant ore WITHOUT breaking¡­and NOT be a weapon?,¡± he asked, with obvious curiosity and pride leaking into his voice. Got him! ¡°No pick, no pike, no spade¡­but a HAMMER old man, the BEST hammer you can make!,¡± I can see his face start to fall, but before he can voice the complaint I already see coming, ¡°AND the masters have ALREADY given permission to use the ore the human has dug out, to make it!¡± The old dwarf¡¯s eyes light up with hope as a fire seems to burn once again in his heart, ¡°YES boy! I¡¯ll get it done. But I will need some of this human¡¯s hair, to dedicate the hammer with, so it doesn¡¯t turn against him in a dark tunnel late at night!¡± Fuck, I forgot how superstitious our village smith is, guess the same is true of dwarven smiths too. ¡°He is busy trying to pry more ore out right now, but I will bring you a handful of his hair tomorrow, just spend today gathering what you need to start,¡± I saying right before leaving. I got to go back anyway, and I doubt Torden will be awake to complain about my taking one of the fire-red braids he is so vain about. If you are going to force me to play proto-viking in a fantasy isekai, then I¡¯m going to get MJOLNIR on the battlefield, you eldritch motherfucker! By now it was getting pretty late, and I¡¯m likely not going to be back to the cave with much daylight left, so I better head back before I have to climb down by moonlight. I am NOT kiestering a damn torch just to climb down! It doesn¡¯t take long to find my way to the mountain springs that the slaves use for water, and the cistern is empty of peopleby the time I¡¯m done filing and tying off the water skins in my bags. Mostly empty, as I turn around to find a young half-elf slave girl staring at me, ¡°I saw you two leave, but only YOU came back, then you went to the dwarves. Why?¡± Sheeeeiiit, red-handed and all, what can I say to get her from calling out an alarm?, ¡°Look girl, I don¡¯t know WHAT you saw, but it WASN¡¯T me. Now get out of my way, I have errands to run.¡± But as I am passing by her, ¡°You going back to the cursed tunnel in the mushroom farm again? Good, I¡¯ll follow you!¡± FUUUUUUCK! I don¡¯t want to have to KILL some innocent slave kid, just to save our lives! ¡°Just go back to your parents; they must be worried about you if you¡¯ve been following ME around all day instead of doing your work,¡± I try to dismiss her perfunctorily. I can hear her walking just behind me for another couple minutes, before I make out her sniffling, Shit I better stop and get her to cease crying, before we wind up being spotted, ¡°Why are you crying, I don¡¯t think they will be THAT angry at you.¡± DAMN this kid has a trumpet on her, ¡°Mama died before I knew her, papa walked into the cursed tunnel last year, and nobody BUT YOU comes back!¡± She¡¯s nearly screaming by now, not just crying but UGLY-crying. ¡°Shhh, shhh, I didn¡¯t know, I promise you I didn¡¯t know. But hey if I made it to the end and came back, then maybe your father just hasn¡¯t been able to find his way back? He might be outside right now, trying to figure out how to get YOU out too!,¡± Yeah right, if he isn¡¯t dusty broken bones at the bottom of some pit, he probably got turned into ogre chow. Her eyes start to dry as she rubs her snotty nose on the back of one arm, ¡°You really think he is?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if he is or not, I never met him. But I know that if I was separated from MY child, I would do ANYTHING to get back to them,¡± Shit, I¡¯m not even lying am I? Strange, am I so used to having to stretch and mutilate the truth these days that it is noteworthy when I¡¯m telling the bare-faced TRUTH? ¡°Very well then, take ME with you!,¡± Aaaannnd THERE¡¯S why I¡¯ve been lying so much these past few years. Well, in for a penny¡­ ¡° Fine, but you are going to have to help out, and keep this SECRET or NONE of us will make it to the outside!,¡± at least she¡¯ll keep her trap shut, before somebody HEARS her! She actually starts to look whitsful, ¡°Papa always used to describe the outside to me before he left, it sounds so wonderful¡­¡± And that is how I ended up with a nurse to take care of Torden while I was collecting supplies. *** Turns out her name is Aedirboa, and she is able to create glowing orbs of light, using some sort of dancing lights-based power. Her father fled to find a way to get her to safety, since any slave with psychic powers is executed by their stone giant masters, rather than risk a slave uprising. So she promised her father not to use her ¡°snow lights¡± as he called them, until she was free of the slave pits¡­the little lawyer figured out that being down the ¡°cursed tunnel¡± counted. And she would NOT stop making jokes at my sore ass¡¯s expense for the entire trip, after she saw me rubbing the boot print. I got to get me a set of shit-kickers like that, for when I find the fucker that sent me here¡­ I got my revenge though, after she nearly pissed herself in fear at the sight of the sun! She was so scared of the giant burning ball of light in the no-ceiling sky, that I don¡¯t think she even REMEMBERS the climb down. I showed her how to make mushroom broth, feed, and care for Torden. Then the next morning she shows ME how to make it taste edible, before I head back to the slave pits with one of his dreadlock braids in hand. By the time I come back that evening with extra goat pelts and food, I find that she has cleaned up and organized the ogre¡¯s filthy hovel-hole. Then she shows me her prize, a woven-gold ring that she found in the ogre¡¯s filthy fur bed before tossing it out. Afterwards I take her outside when the sun is setting, point out the location of Askf?r, and then spend time pointing at the stars and trying to explain what they are. Sometime that night she hands me the ring as a present. I don¡¯t have the heart to give it back to her, since she was happy-crying and smiling while she did so. Then out of curiosity I cast detect magic and realize it is a MAGIC ring¡­but I have no idea WHAT the enchantment it (not many magic items in the village to practice on). I explain this to her and ask if she wants it back, but just end up keeping it as we talk late into the night about the differences between MY magic and HER ¡°mind-magic¡± psychic powers. Its hours later as I explain the differences in the types of magic as I remember them from The Harrowed Earth, and what tricks and options for psychic powers that I still remember reading about all these years later (admittedly not much, since it wasn¡¯t my jam), comparing them to what SHE can do. Eventually her fuel tank hits ¡°E¡±, and she passes out after experimenting with her ¡°DANCING lights¡±, then I follow suit. It¡¯s nice to have somebody I can be ME around, without the ghost of Laugash clouding their perceptions. *** Weeks pass, and eventually I am only making trips into the slave pens every few days to refresh our water and food supplies, having gotten all the other stuff on the checklist that the three of us need to get back to the village. I haven¡¯t tried making or test-firing a firearm since the ogre, for fear of alerting the giants to our location, or awkward questions from Aedirboa and Torden (when he EVENTUALLY wakes up). Meanwhile, ¡®Boa and I have gone through tic-tac-toe and even checkers in our early days, and are playing chess on a board made from pieces of carved wood while I¡¯m trying to explain the concept of a collectable card game to her, when Torden FINALLY wakes up, ¡°Will the two of you STOP talking for a bit, so I can sleep?¡± Ok, he¡¯s not AWAKE-awake, just grousing on the edges of wakefulness in his coma and nearly re-breaking a rib as he tries to roll over. I end up having to use some homemade sleeping dust on him to make him pass out before he undoes WEEKS worth of healing! I leave the dust with Aedirboa and show her how to dose him up if he starts moving again, explaining WHY, before going back to the tree line to get the makings of more as well fresh small game. Looks like it will be a few days until he is healed enough to ACTUALLY awaken, so I can explain to him why rolling onto a broken rib is a BAD idea. At least on my next trip into the forges, I find thar his present is finally ready. I also manage to snag a few pounds of refined Mithril for myself, by using prestidigitation to make it look like pig iron. Turns out ¡°least wish¡± actually CAN make valuable objects . A few days later I am able to get Torden to actually WAKE-wake up, and explain that is has been a couple moons since we were captured, most of them with him on his sickbed. A quick poke in the ribs is all it takes to convince him to listen to his doctor, and STAY there until he heals. Then I show him his present, an Adamantine hammer, its long faces carved with knotted scrollwork around their edges later filled with molten iron, ¡°Hey brother, when you can swing THIS comfortably, then we can head home¡­ok?¡± Yeah it¡¯s an obvious bribe, but he¡¯s a 14 year old kid full of piss and pride¡­a bribe WORKS! He is mistrustful of Aedirboa at first, but after watching us laugh and play with our magic, her making lights that I try to shoot down with acid splash, he comes to a grudging respect of her as, ¡°Good for Laughash.¡± And time marches on. Eventually he is able to breath without any pain, and rapidly regains his muscle mass while depopulating the local squirrel and bird population, until he can easily swing his big-ass mass of skull-mashing metal. After depositing our travel supplies at the start of the next trail below us, we manage to climb down and start our trek back. Not much to say about the trip, other than the universe STILL hates me, as I seem to run face-first into every skunk on the way! But at least eventually we find the stream that leads back to town, making it go relatively quickly and hassle-free after that. Torden even gets to introduce a boar to ¡°Mister Slammy¡±, Mjolnir not having caught on, which feeds us for much of the rest of the trip. No gnolls though, maybe they are south near the coast for the season? And yes, Borden was FURIOUS when we got back! But despite my fears, he was angry at TORDEN and not ME. He just thanks me for getting his ¡°fool of a goat-minded son¡± back home. Huh, for a change when Torden gets us in trouble, I¡¯m NOT the one mucking out the goat pens, ¡°If you are going to think with your manhood like a goat, and think you can live in the MOUNTAINS like one, you might as well SMELL like them!¡± I try my best not to laugh whenever I bring him his meals for the full tenday of his punishment, I swear, but I usually fail. Even afterwards, whenever he gets too full of himself, I find that saying something like, ¡°Yes brother, but I hear that the goats need some tending¡± will usually deflate his princely ego nicely. Aedirboa winds up living with Venradik, since none of the villagers will take in an obvious ¡°savage-born¡± kid, and the tribesmen think that her being a slave makes her bad luck. Venradik, however, couldn¡¯t give two wet shits (and we BOTH know why), so he takes HER in as his new live-in apprentice since I¡¯m not able to play doctor-in-training much of the time. At least I now have an honest-to-god FRIEND in the settlement now, even though much of the time she¡¯s just picking my brain for training ideas. Plus, Torden and I have a relationship I haven¡¯t had since my ACTUAL brother died, I didn¡¯t know how much I missed that kind of comradery until now. Oh, the ring? Turns out to be in essence a ring of stashing with a 5-pound capacity, capable of holding one object (or container) up to that weight outside of space/time until it is called upon by the wearer. Nothing was stored inside of it though, at least not YET¡­ CHAPTER 5: A Father’s Gratitude It has been months since her husband Wayne was murdered on the ranch, and life hasn¡¯t gotten any easier for the family he left behind. Wayne¡¯s gaming buddies have done what they could to help out, but they aren¡¯t Wayne, and none of them are ranchers. So while Pia is walking through the store¡¯s aisles while Paul is at school she thinks, If it wasn¡¯t for his old navy friend Logan, I don¡¯t even think I could have kept the place running no matter HOW much money those university people are paying to rent space for their trailers. In the end it has less to do with money than it does with LABOR, and skilled trustworthy hands at that. Pia Sigurdsson¡¯s been the wife of a rancher for the better part of a decade, so listening to her husband¡¯s complaints and helping him celebrate his victories has taught her more about the minutiae of cattle-handling than she ever thought possible. But she is STILL just a small woman barely 5 feet tall and 100 pounds on a bad day, so she just doesn¡¯t have the sheer BULK needed to throw hay bales out the back of a pickup¡­or even get a sick cow in out of the rain! So she has to hire field hands for that, but it is so hard for her to tell the competent from the braggarts, or the honest from the criminal. If it wasn¡¯t for Logan helping out now that he¡¯s retired from the navy himself, I¡¯d be at my wit¡¯s end long ago. Evidently, when he got out he decided to smuggle himself back into Texas, after getting stuck in-service when Biden effectively enslaved most of the remaining servicemen to keep the numbers up. He and Wayne always promised to take care of one another when they got out, but he just¡­didn¡¯t make it to Wayne¡¯s side in time. I¡¯m not an idiot; I¡¯ve seen how Logan looks at me, with longing AND regret¡­makes me wonder who did he lose while he was still in the navy? It must have been somebody special to him, but he refuses to talk about it. At least he has taken a liking to Paul, although I AM worried about Logan spending so much of his spare time alone in Wayne¡¯s gaming shed¡­it almost feels like he is torturing himself that the couldn¡¯t make it in time to at least say ¡°goodbye.¡± Now if only Paul wouldn¡¯t get so angry at Logan, it isn¡¯t like he¡¯s EVERY going to be able to replace Wayne, Logan just...he¡¯s hurting over Wayne¡¯s loss JUST as much as WE are¡­ With a whimsical thought, Pia remembers Wayne¡¯s old gaming group, and starts to formulate a plan, before turning down the liquor aisle. I¡¯ve been in this isekai hell for TEN YEARS now. I think I¡¯ve got to accept the fact that I am never going to see my family again¡­I need to plan for living here long-term, instead of just surviving from day to day. With this in mind, the start of winter finds me in the village¡¯s forge, beating the ever-loving SHIT out of a glowing hunk of metal under the blacksmith¡¯s befuddled eye. It is understandable, he has never seen a metal like this, nor a blade so thin, and the forge is blaring hotter than the fires of hell itself¡­so hot that we couldn¡¯t even BEGIN this project until snow was blowing outside for fear of baking to death! Somehow I doubt that he is going to be adopting my little innovations for his daily practice¡­charcoal, blowers, and the like. He¡¯s spent the past week since the snows started helping me out in the forge, in exchange for my help birthing his newborn son this summer. A favor he gave in gratitude, which he doubtlessly regretted as soon as the crucible sprayed sunlight-intense metal into the sword¡¯s mold the first time. I¡¯m just happy he made the offer before I had to figure out how to bribe him; Laughash doesn¡¯t have NEARLY the muscle mass I am used to, let alone enough for this little ¡°secret weapon¡± project. I¡¯ve been working with Venradik off-and-on for the last three years to figure this out, ever since I first HAD the idea. If Torden won¡¯t call ¡°Mister Slammy¡± Mjolnir, then I¡¯m going to make fucking Laevateinn the Everblade! I¡¯ve spent the past couple summers practicing with a wooden replica of my old formal-wear dress saber, much to Torden¡¯s laughter, until I was sure that my piratical-fantasy reflexes were good enough to do THIS. Since Mithril is as tough as modern-day steel, but light as wood, it makes for the PERFECT fast-attack blade¡­but sabers don¡¯t exist in this world because metallurgy is pathetic. Not wanting to lose my weapon to the snow or other mishaps in a fight, I thought, What about just MAKING it via summon weapon? Turns out it¡¯s for the same reason I couldn¡¯t make an Adamantine 1911; summon weapon cannot create objects of inherently supernatural materials. So¡­FUCK the rules! I know that I can ¡°Anchor¡± spell effects into items I make myself, while making them, since I did it with Herr Grey frequently¡­but can I ¡°invert¡± the effect? Would it be possible to ¡°Anchor¡± the Mithril itself, to target WHEN casting summon weapon? According to Venradik it is possible, but only by ¡°boosting up¡± the summon weapon spell with a similar existing magical item, and bonding it to the completed item as well as myself as its maker. I¡¯d always wanted to mess around with the ¡°Mystic Reengineering¡± rules in The Harrowed Earth while I was playing Herr Grey, looks like I got my wish. Hence my two weeks spent sweating my balls off here in the smithy, cheating access to ¡°dwarven¡± technology with my modern-day knowledge of how-to-make-shit-hot, and the sacrifice of the ring of stashing to form the stop just behind the saber¡¯s tang. After pouring the Mithril into summon weapon rune-etched (really just the spell¡¯s description from my character sheet, but in English) clay form with an oversized blade. We spent days folding and welding the blade, then reforming it to do it all over again, as the saber¡¯s blade lengthened into something approximating hard-edged spring steel. Once the blade was finished I etched my name, my REAL name, into the blade, so evidently the ¡°rune script¡± I am using for it just says ¡°Wayne Sigurdsson¡± this time . Hey, I got to stay sane SOMEHOW! And finally quenching the glowing blade in a slurry made from snow and the blood that I have been bleeding out a little of every day since we started. After testing it in private, once Venradik finishes winding the handle with leather he has been preparing, I can now ¡°target¡± it with a summon weapon spell to teleport it to my hand! So, late at night, I go outside the village when nobody is looking and¡­toss it in the creek. What would YOU do to hide it; this is the only place I can think of where it won¡¯t risk getting stolen by Badrik and messed with! So now, a month after the winter snows began, let¡¯s review my character sheet statistics. Turns out that I ended up unlocking the ¡°Loremaster¡± trait instead of ¡°Stalker¡±¡­probably from spending years helping Aedirboa work on HER training, and brainstorming with Venradik so much. Well, if my memories of The Harrowed Earth count for anything in THIS world, I guess Loremaster¡¯s universal-access ¡°I heard this somewhere¡± ability Tales & Legends qualifies¡­ NAME: Laughash RACE: Human SUBRACE: Primitive AGE: 14.9 years HIT DIE: 1(3/4) ECL: 3/4 SIZE: Medium SPEED: 30 ft. ERA: Bronze-Age (Primitive, use one Era lower) ABILITY SCORES: Cha 16, Wis 12, Int 15, Dex 13, Con 10, Str 8 DURABILITY: 0 (due to Small size) SAVING THROWS: Fort ¨C1 (0), Ref +3 (0), Will +5 (2). +2 vs. Fear. SPECIAL ABILITIES * Trickery Domain spells: 2 per day ATTACK: Base Attack Bonus +0, Melee ¨C1, Ranged +1. SKILLS (¨C3 to Social skills from Primitive): * Charisma-Linked (+3) * * (CbF) Bluff +4 (4 ranks) [¨C3 Social] * * Diplomacy +5 (0 ranks) [+2 from Court Raised] * * (CbF) Disguise * * (P) Use Mystic Device +4 (1 rank) * Wisdom-Linked (+1) * * Heal +3 (2 ranks) * * Sense Motive +3 (0 ranks) [+2 from Court Raised] * * Spot +2 (1 rank) * * (P) Survival +4 (2 ranks) [+2 from Primitive] * Intelligence-Linked (+2) * * (P) Alchemy +6 (4 ranks) * * (P) Craft (medicine) +3 (1 rank) * * (P) Craft (weaponsmith) +6 (4 ranks) * * Knowledge (arcana) +6 (4 ranks) * * Knowledge (nature) +5 (3 ranks) * * Knowledge (nobility & royalty) +4 (0 ranks) [+2 from Court Raised] * * Spellcraft +4 (3 ranks) * Dexterity-Linked (+1) * * (CbF) Hide +3 (2 ranks) * Constitution-Linked (+0) [¨C2 from Court Raised] * * Concentration +1 (3 ranks) * * (P) Control Shape * Strength-Linked (¨C1) [¨C2 from Court Raised] * * (P) Climb * Linguistics +2 (2 ranks) * Tales & Legends +3 (1 trait) FEATS (Simple Weapon Proficiency, Firearms Proficiency, +Saber): * HD 1: Court Raised * Human: Chosen by Fate (Trickery) TRAITS (Mystical Hero): * Favored: Skillful ¡Á1 * HD 1: Eldritch Soul ¡Á1 * HD 1: Wildman ¡Á1 * HD 1: Loremaster ¡Á1 SPELLCASTING: * Chosen by Fate CL 1 (+2), Max SL 0th. * * 0th: summon weapon Summon Weapon (Conj): Creates a non-magical mundane weapon you are familiar with. [Summon] * Eldritch Soul CL 1 (+2), Max SL 1st. Spell Level Pool Points: 17 (0th-Level are free) * * 0th: acid splash, detect magic, prestidigitation; 1st: color spray, mage armor Acid Splash (Evoc): Orb deals 1d3 (+6 Breaking the Limits) damage [to Con]. [Acid] Color Spray (Ill): Knocks unconscious, blinds, and/or stuns 1d6 (+5 Breaking the Limits) weak creatures [Material Consumed (colored red, yellow, and blue sand or powder)]. [Mind-Affecting; DC 14 Will save] Detect Magic (Div): Detects spells and magic items within 60 ft. (+6 Knowledge:arcana and Spellcraft checks Breaking the Limits) Mage Armor (Conj): Gives subject +4 (+5 Breaking the Limits) armor bonus [Focus Needed (piece of cured leather)]. [Force] Prestidigitation (Universal): Performs minor tricks. (+6 to relevant skill checks Breaking the Limits). SPECIAL ABILITIES: * Advantage: Breaking the Limits (Eldritch Soul) [Charisma score ¨C10 ¨CSpell Level to spell effects] * Extra skill points STILL no access to my Intelligence skill points¡­and no base saving throw point. I guess I get those once I finally ¡°tick over¡± to the minimum starting age of 16? All of the soft living in the Jarl¡¯s household, as well as the little ¡°go get this problem solved¡± tasks from him¡­yeah, that explains the ¡°Court Raised¡± feat pretty much exactly. Not the one I would have CHOSEN if I could have figured out how to shoot for a specific feat, but at least the Charisma bonus from it helps out my spellcasting powers! But at least whatever is responsible for my access to the rules of The Harrowed Earth has decided to grant me ONE benefit; I can now utilize my FULL Hit Die for Trickery spells per day. I can still only cast summon weapon, but with two a day my experimentation rate has doubled! Noice. And THAT is why, after DOZENS of failed attempts, I re-read the summon weapon spell description and realized¡­¡°can conjure any non-magical mundane weapon that you are familiar with¡±¡­must mean that in addition to not being able to create flaming swords, I ALSO cannot create weapons unless I can FULLY visualize them, so no claymore mines because I have ZERO idea how to make the explosives. So yeah, not too happy about THAT, so being able to twist the spell like a pretzel so I can create a weapon I can summon from any place in the world? THAT little act of rebellion is my revenge . Now I just need to ¡°get good¡± enough to be able to craft my OWN firearms from Mithril or Adamantine, and repeat the process. Long-term goals are good. *** So what about everybody else in my life, these past three or so years? What has happened to Torden and his father Borden? What about Borden¡¯s wife, Freygi? What about Venradik and Aedirboa? Yes¡­Badrik is STILL an asshole, but by now he is joined in the Order of the Full Moon Salute by Sikan. Well first up, as I already said my relationship with Borden has gotten better, to the point where I am treated as his actual son in every way these people think of it. He isn¡¯t happy with my total inability to put on muscle, but is as proud as an actual father over my skills with magic and the medical arts. He has even taken me on family trips to hunt boars and bears, discussing civil matters and actually LISTENING to my advice and the reasoning behind it. As a direct result, we even have a pilot project going where we have a bunch of boars in a stone pin, being bred for their meat (it¡¯s the rancher in me, I couldn¡¯t help it). Torden is a full-fledged adult of 18 now, and is the heir apparent, taking over some of his father¡¯s duties to get people used to his being in charge. He frequently drags me along when inspecting the fields, or settling petty disputes, for my advice. In effect, if this keeps up, I¡¯ll become the power behind the throne¡­fuck. It has gotten to the point where some people come to me DIRECTLY when a problem comes up, and I keep having to go grab Torden. He finds my obvious desire to stay away from responsibility hilarious. Freygi is spending a lot of time with Aedirboa, teaching her how to be a person and NOT a slave. Taking her under the older woman¡¯s wing, teaching her how to dress and make a household like she does with the Village girls, only doing it MUCH more often. Twice a tenday Aedirboa even makes the meals for the Jarl¡¯s family, when Venradik joins us as her guardian, and we have to endure her amateur-hour attempts at cooking something BESIDES mushrooms. But after a couple years it has at least become EDIBLE¡­Freygi is a fantastic teacher, even if Aedirboa can¡¯t boil water without it catching fire (no joke, it happened once). Speaking of Venradik, he is still the royal gardener, and playing a magical version of trivial pursuit with me. But I think I¡¯ve finally figured out what The Harrowed Earth ability he has; some type of Spiritualism. I¡¯ve seen him casting spells from the ¡°Divine¡± spell list, plus some plant-oriented spells off the ¡°Nature¡± list, so I think he has the Spiritualism trait with the ¡°Plant¡± Domain. I¡¯ve only seen him toss around spells of up to 3rd-level, I think, but mostly he makes medicines and alchemical concoctions to use as carriers of his magic. I don¡¯t know if this is a problem with his spellcasting, or just a preference he uses to hide his magical skills, and I¡¯m kind of afraid to push the matter. In either case, I¡¯ve learned a LOT about how to shove magical effects into items, thanks to him! Then there is his apprentice, Aedirboa, who has been practically attached to my back ever since I rescued her from the giants¡¯ slave pits. Don¡¯t get me wrong, I like her; she¡¯s easy to talk with, asks insightful questions, and actually LISTENS to me when I try to explain my answers. But that doesn¡¯t mean I want to have a Q&A session when I am on the crapper! Girl needs to learn boundaries, but I guess there¡¯s still some of the slave pit mentality in her. However, she¡¯s managed to develop her psychic ¡°mind-magic¡± powers thanks to my advice, and is now capable of using ¡°Psychic Senses¡± for the inspiration spell. She wanted something similar to my prestidigitation, after seeing how useful the minor bonus to things was. Unfortunately for her, her elven blood is slowing down her aging, and she looks only 14 now, making it hard for her to get any respect from the adult Villagers. Now we come to my least favorite people; Badrik and Sikan. I have to list them together here, because ever since Sikan was ejected from the Jarl¡¯s court, the two have been practically (and maybe literally) joined at the hip. At least they aren¡¯t focused on making MY life miserable anymore, mostly just fucking with me in passing. Unfortunately, for THEM, the target of their efforts these past years has been Aedirbboa¡­and I can¡¯t stand for that! I¡¯ve taken to trying to train them like dogs, by giving them negative reinforcement when they do something bad. I¡¯d reward them for good behavior¡­if they ever HAD it, so it¡¯s the stick all the time. Tear out her medical herb garden? Get a bunch of fleas in your bed. Talk local kids into throwing goat shit at her in the street? Your next meal ¡°mysteriously¡± causes you to shit your guts out. I¡¯ve managed to get them to tone down the harassment, but it still happens when they THINK they can get away with it¡­but they can¡¯t, obviously. Badrik is petty and childish in his harassment, almost like he thinks it¡¯s a contest or sport, but¡­Sikan? He¡¯s just downright MEAN, bordering on purely malevolent! I¡¯ve tried bringing this up to Borden and the family a few times, but all I get are sympathetic smiles or a hearty laugh and a pat on the back that sends me stumbling, and the like. Sheesh, you¡¯d think being caught in the act rubbing poison ivy on her drying clothes would get Badrik in SOME trouble! But nope, his aura of ¡°spoiled youngest child¡± is still as impenetrable now that he is 13, and it was when he was 5. *** It was about a month and a half, maybe two, into winter when we got some unexpected visitors from the south; travelers from the village that Freygi was born in before she married then-prince Borden. Amazing isn¡¯t it, even in such a harsh land there is STILL travel and trade between people¡­WITHOUT wanting to turn them into slaves and take all their shit. Why am I feeling embarrassed? Meh, whatever, must be some remnant of all that ¡°white guilt¡± propaganda from the public school system. I was getting ready to pass out after spending the day playing chess, and bullshitting about ¡°training¡± theories from my memories of The Harrowed Earth core book, with Aedirboa when Borden¡¯s voice bellowed out, ¡°Laughash my boy, come out front, we have company!¡± Great, MORE not-quite-a-Viking hospitality I have to endure, my liver can¡¯t take much more of this! Well at least I know why history always described these people as brave beyond reason¡­they were CONSTANTLY drunk! So I grab the nice furred jacket that Fregyi embroidered, tie my pants back on, and head to the longhouse¡¯s front¡­time for Night Court. Entering through the goatskin curtain that blocks the public from the private side of the longhouse, I see Borden already sitting on his raised throne looking like the cover of a Conan novel, with Torden standing beside him. Why didn¡¯t he just name him Borden Jr., instead of TORden? There are also three wet and shivering strangers kneeling in front of them, each taking a knee with their weapons buried in the packed-dirt floor on the same side as their planted knees. I¡¯ll never understand why these people consider it polite to present their petition to the local king, WHILE carrying weapons¡­that¡¯s like a court house REQUIRING you walk into court with a pistol on your hip! On second thought, after a few dozen asshole judges get shot in the face, that would solve a LOT of problems on Earth¡­ ¡°My sons, these are representatives from the village of Valdi, where your mother comes from,¡± Borden must be talking about Freygi. ¡°It is about three or four days¡¯ walk south along the mountains, surrounding a small lake, but it must have taken these brave warriors at about a tenday to make it here through the growing snow, so¡­why ARE you here?,¡± Borden turns to ask his question to the visitors, at the end. ¡°Jarl Borden, you are right that the journey was harsh, we were four when we left. But it had to be done, for Valdi is under attack from wolf-men. They started raiding us from the woods when snow first started to fall, and after the third attack it became obvious that they were going to be a problem for the whole of winter! We are the SECOND group to travel here to ask for your aid, but it seems the first to MAKE it. Please Jarl, we have so few warriors compared to you, with so much of the village being fishermen and wise-men with powers over plants¡­but it is WINTER and the plants are too asleep to heed their calls. We NEED your aid, and I have been given permission by our Jarl to give you whatever it is our power to give, if you would but give it! For the sake of your wife¡¯s remaining family, our villages are brothers, and does not one brother come to save the other when he cries out for help?,¡± Ooooo¡­nice plucking at the heart strings, come the end of that. Borden turns to Torden and asks him his opinion, but if there is a chance for him to use ¡°Mister Slammy¡± on something¡¯s face, he is ALWAYS down for it¡­I could have told him that! But then he turns to me, ¡°And what of your view of this, Laughash? I know you think coolly, instead of with your muscles like your hot-blooded brother,¡± I have to spend a minute thinking about this. It is likely the one decision I have been asked to advise on with the greatest possible ramifications¡­ ¡°My Jarl, I think we SHOULD risk the winter to send warriors to assist them, and our best at that. Askfj?r is peaceful during the winter, and the people here often handle the few beasts that wander into our fields, usually without any of the hunters even being called upon. So our hunters just spend the winter in idle activities. If our neighbor, to whom we owe gratitude for Freygi¡¯s life, needs help¡­why NOT help them? Yes it will be a long and harsh trip, but they can rest in the longhouses of Valdi on arriving. And, without ANY other considerations, remember the fjord village that was destroyed by gnolls a few winters ago, from whence so many of our villagers came? And now the SAME thing is happening to a village so much closer to us, since gnolls are a type of wolf-men? Doesn¡¯t this mean that, in a winter soon, they will come HERE? Better to fight and kill them in Valdi, both villages together, than in Askfj?r alone!,¡± we fight them there, so we don¡¯t have to fight them here¡­I feel kind of dirty for suggesting this, but it is true. ¡°You both have good views on this, and I am inclined to agree that we must help, for our own sake AND for the honor of it. We shall travel there with these brave warriors, as well as much of our own, and go with them OURSELVES to give them heart and guidance. Laughash, Torden, you two shall go with me, to learn how war is done...since you will have to do similar acts after I am gone.¡± After talking to each of us in turn, he addresses the visitors, ¡°Go with the warriors that brought you in, they will show you to houses where you can rest while I prepare for the trip. Taking a dozen people to war is complicated enough, without having to move them in winter, so you have my apologies but¡­we won¡¯t be ABLE to leave immediately.¡± The visitors looked more relieved than anything else. I think Borden¡¯s apology was more of a social nicety than anything else. After they left with the guards who brought them into the longhouse, Borden stands from his throne and stretches with several in his back, ¡° I HATE that chair, but your grandfather built it with his own hands, so there¡¯s no way I can replace it with something that doesn¡¯t need half a damn bear on the seat to be sat upon.¡± Well THAT explains why it looks like it is ripped out of a Robert E. Howard book! ¡°Go to bed and sleep well boys, we have a lot of hard work ahead of us come the dawn,¡± he says before heading into the back, to follow his own advice. *** Dawn breaks with the wailing of a banshee, waking me up from a dead stop to 100 miles an hour, almost propelling me out of my own bed; or maybe that is an f-15 jet taking off? Then I hear Borden¡¯s shout, ¡°DAMNIT woman, stop that unholy shouting! Would you have me take off last night in the middle of the night¡¯s snowfall, in my small clothes, only to freeze into a husband-shaped block of ice? How is THAT going to help your former village and friends?! Well, ANSWER me!¡± And thankfully the wailing stops, evidently this morning he told Freygi what happened last night, and she did NOT take it well. Shortly afterwards, I just hear her caught up in deep soul-wracking sobs, evidently chastised into heart-wrecking reality. First time I¡¯ve heard them be anything but a loving couple in¡­well damn, I think this is an ACTUAL first! So I pull on my clothes and walk past the royal bedroom on my way to the back door which leads to the ¡°facilities¡±, taking a quick side-glance out of morbid curiosity. And there¡¯s Freygi, her eyes already puffed up like an allergic reaction, snot running down her nose like a faucet¡­with Borden wrapped around her on the floor from behind, his huge arms holding her tight. The side of his thick white/grey beard pushed into her cheek from behind, completely ignoring the tears and snot that it is absorbing, with his obviously concerned look. OK, scratch that, even when they ARGUE they could push Earth¡¯s marriage counselors to suicide. ¡°Shhhh, my love. It will be ok. If we leave soon, we can return after midwinter, at the latest, but if we don¡¯t leave SOON then there is little point in going at all¡­shhhh¡­.¡± I pass Torden coming back the other way from the outhouse, ¡°Mom and dad still fighting?¡± ¡°I doubt they ever were, at least not in any serious sense, but either way last I saw she was just crying in his arms¡­make of that what you will, brother,¡± Torden looks thoughtful for a few seconds, then puts his head down and walks with determination back to the longhouse. I finish downloading yesterday¡¯s dinner, able to actually breathe comfortably despite the¡­aroma, thanks to my profligate use of prestidigitation. Then leaving the place smelling better than I found it; what with Torden¡¯s rather ¡°sizeable¡± donations. I always find myself grateful to have taken prestidigitation for the sake of my nose, despite the lack of appropriate bathroom tissues makes having to use pinecones a painful necessity. I still miss 2-ply though, using magic for THAT just feels¡­creepy¡­in a place that you don¡¯t WANT to feel that way! When I get inside, Aedirboa is unexpectedly there, ¡°Hi Lou! Help me carve up a boar, would you? Fyodr (you know, the guard?) he asked me to come over this morning to make the midday meal. Is something wrong with Freygi?¡± As usual when she is excited by something, it takes me a bit to parse what she says after she stops rapidly rambling, so I CAN start translating. Why is it that SHE¡¯S the only one to call me by a nickname? Well, one overly-familiar idiosyncrasy deserves another. ¡°Hi ¡®Boa! Let me go over this in order, ok? First off, I have to talk to the Jarl, but if he is fine with it then I will happily use my magic to knock out a boar in the pin so you can cut butcher it. I¡¯m glad to see you, but Freygi has had really bad news, and needs some alone-time with Borden. Before you ask, not THAT kind of ¡®alone-time¡¯. So please just leave her alone for the day, ok?¡± Looking a little disappointed, Aedirboa sullenly agrees to just handle the midday meal and leave Freygi alone. Sheesh, gossip-hound much? The rest of the day is spent getting ready for the trip, after using color spray on the boars in the pin, so that Aedirboa can grab and knife one. Finding ponies hale enough to make the trip, for breaking trail through the snow and carry supplies. Gathering enough wheat stalks for the horses, there and back, then bailing them in goat skins to stay dry. Collecting fruit-filled bread loaves and smoked meat to feed US for the trip. Collecting weapons, then spare weapons, for us and a dozen warriors. FINDING a dozen warriors willing and capable of making the trip. Collecting medicines and useful elixers from Venradik, or waiting until the next morning for him to make them. And, after she finds out what is going on from Venradik, convincing Aedirboa NOT to go! I failed on that last part¡­. Evidently, even with ME along to play mister fix-em-up, Borden wanted ANOTHER healer ¡°in case Valdi has need of one as well¡±¡­I can¡¯t really fault him for that. Plus, I wasn¡¯t comfortable leaving her behind with Badrik in charge of the village, even nominally, without ME there to keep him contained. But given that, I¡¯d rather her have to deal with pig shit buckets being dumped on her, than risk her getting hauled away and eaten alive by gnolls. Huh, since when did I become so PROTECTIVE of Aedirboa? Well whatever, she¡¯s my only true FRIEND, it¡¯s understandable that I would want her to stay out of harm¡¯s way. And after a day¡¯s solid prep work, the next morning during a break in the falling snow, we set out. Borden and Torden in the lead, riding a pair of thick-muscled ponies to break the trail, trading positions whenever one tires. The rest of us walk, or rather casually stroll, given that the horses aren¡¯t able to break trail through the hip-deep snow THAT fast. Behind them comes two of the warriors of Vladi, the third having developed a wracking cough and being left behind in the care of Venradik. Then comes Aedirboa and I, travelling with the two warriors taking care of our four pack animals, so that we can go back and forth along the column to check up on the health of them all. This includes the ten warriors in the back of the column, each with short bows in hand to shoot potential game¡­or attackers, their round leather-faced shields and weapons hanging from their backs. Our thick fur-lined boots keeping our feet surprisingly warm and dry, the iron nails driven down through the thick leather soles provide great grip on the hard ice-covered ground, making the trip surprisingly pleasant¡­horse farts excluded. Despite the pack animals we are each carrying our weapons, along with full leather backpack-like travel bags strapped across our shoulders, filled with spare clothes and other things we might find useful. Aedirboa is carrying medical salves and bandages, as well as a bag of goodberry berries made from force-grown plans, courtesy of Venradik and his gardens. For myself I am carrying a few spare bandages just in case, as well as some of Venradik¡¯s alchemical concoctions that he has been keeping in reserve for a special occasion. Stuff that he can only make thanks to his advanced technological knowledge from being a drow. This includes a couple of Night Crystal lenses sandwiched between a pair of leather straps, which I can put on so I can see in the dark if needed. Nowhere near as good as a set of NVGs, but better than nothing, plus THESE don¡¯t need the batteries swapped . Plus a few of Venradik¡¯s more experimental items, which I can get to work¡­MOST of the time. That first night¡¯s camp was¡­uncomfortable, in the extreme. We couldn¡¯t carry enough wood with us to make a campfire, so the only way to get water was to scoop snow into a bag then press it COLD against us under our clothes; NOT fun! But at least I was able to warm up our bread and meat rations with prestidigitation, which everybody appreciated, ¡°Hey brother, if you can heat up our food, why not heat up and melt the snow so that I don¡¯t have to freeze off my favorite poking stick just to have a drink?¡± Fuck YOU Torden, coming up with a clever-but-OBVIOUS idea that I should have had two bags of snow ago! Evidently the look on my face after he said that made everybody laugh their asses off, even Aedirboa tried to hide her behind her hand, but couldn¡¯t hide the explosive puffs of white breath when I looked at her. Et tu, Aedirboa? Despite the occasional laugh for the rest of next day¡¯s travel, I made sure to use prestidigitation on everybody¡¯s snow bags as I walked he column, melting the contents into cool water. It only took me until after the midday meal to get over the embarrassment! Hey I can take a joke as well as the next seaman, pun intended, but I draw the line at the SAME joke CONSTANTLY. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. It was when we had to cut our way through a section of forest later that afternoon, thankful that we didn¡¯t have to break trail because of the newly-falling snow storm was being mostly blocked by the trees, when pig excrement hit the rotating blades. There was a deep hungry groan, and the sounds of snapping TREES, coming from somewhere nearby¡­coming CLOSER. The horses were freaking out from the sound and whatever they scented on the wind, without even Borden able to keep his under control. He and Torden managed to get off, after looping a rope from the pack handlers around their necks, and then they let all six horses run off. Why? Well with being roped together, especially in the woods, they won¡¯t get far. Plus, by seeing which way they ran, we knew which direction the maker of these echoing sounds came from. As the ground was noticeably shaking, and we could barely hear Borden¡¯s orders, everybody eventually got into a loose line of battle. Prince Torden and Jarl Borden in the front, in a line flanked on either side by the now-armed horse handlers. Behind them in a staggered block of two rows where the ten other warriors, their bows drawn, and their shields and swords buried in front of them in easy reach. Behind all of them were Aedirboa and I, so we could pull back and try to stabilize any who fall, or I could use my own magic against whatever this thing is. A zombie stone giant, maybe? Nope, worse. The¡­THING¡­that pushed a tree out of its way two or so trees from us was¡­IMMENSE. It was built like one of those dwarves from the giants¡¯ slave pits, as wide as it was tall, and covered in thick boulder-like muscles. Its hair and beard were covered in long-rotten gore, so greasy you could lubricate an entire battleship¡¯s engine room with it! The flesh was a sickening rotten-wood brown, complete with sections of moss. Unclothed, it was obviously¡­and SCARILLY¡­a male of the species, getting engorged as it spots us, with drool coming out of BOTH heads. It quickly lifts one arm, the hand filled with a branch-denuded tree, to swipe aside the trees between it and its prey¡­US! A brief flash of realization hits me at that; I¡¯ve fought something like this before, when I was playing Herr Grey! With a shout I try desperately to warn everybody, we are NOT ready for this fight, ¡°TROLL! WE NEED FIRE TO KILL IT!¡± I don¡¯t know if anybody could hear me over the sound of snapping wood and thundering footfalls, as the archers release their arrows in a jagged wave. About half of them hit and bite into its flesh, but no blood comes out. It stops at the edge of the small space we were travelling through; to swipe the arrows off like it was wicking off water droplets, when Borden and the front line rush forward shouting in an attempt to keep it away from the archers. Borden¡¯s spear, held in two hands, bites into the troll¡¯s lower thigh deep enough to draw blood and it releases a howl of outrage, tearing away the spear from his hands as it twists the leg aside, and the other two warriors hack futilely at its other leg. Torden¡¯s warhammer skidding across that leg¡¯s thick flesh as it leans over to smash Borden with its club. No FUCKING way! With a pinch of sand from my pouch I run around the archers to try and get close to the troll, unleashing a ¡°color spray!¡± but¡­too late. Just before my fan of multicolored light reaches it, the club impacts the empty-handed Borden¡¯s arms, as he vainly tries to push it aside and jump back. I can hear the of at LEAST one arm bone breaking, with the power of the strike sending him flying end-over-end until he is stopped face-first by a tree bole, collapsing to the ground motionless. ¡°FATHER!,¡± screams Torden, stunned like the troll, while it tries to swipe away the colored spots in its eyes. The archers continue to pepper it with arrows, the warriors hacking away at the same leg that Borden¡¯s spear is sticking out of. A few seconds later I see Aedirboa arrive at Borden¡¯s side, dropping her pack to rummage in it for supplies, OK, he¡¯s in the best care he can get¡­wait¡­my BAG! When Torden starts swinging at the troll¡¯s knee, the rest of the cuts having started to seal up and the spear being pushed out of the wound, I drop my own bag and start throwing things out of it. Useless, useless, not useful NOW, useless, BINGO! I pull out a fur-lined flap-covered sack with half a dozen internal compartments, each holding a clay flask of ¡°oh FUCK¡±. Then, the thing ROARS in pain, as the clearing is filled with the of its kneecap shattering under the pounding force of Torden¡¯s warhammer. That¡¯s right, its adamantine, and giants are weak to adamantine! It goes to one knee and drops the club to grab one of the few still-standing trees nearby, holding itself upright. One of the warriors was unfortunate in the extreme, caught under its flying-forward foot to be crushed against the ground like a tube of toothpaste under a car¡¯s tire. In rage it slams a fist forward to sweep into the front rank of archers, connecting with two of them, and pulling one into the air. I yell, ¡°Torden, DUCK!¡± as I hurl a flask of fantasy-napalm at the thing¡¯s torso, while Torden and the remaining swordsman jump backwards to avoid the falling flames. A spot of the troll¡¯s torso catches fire just as it bites the archer in half, its mouth opening and the half-a-man falling from the maw as it screams in pain once more. It drops the archer and reaches for me with the same hand, falling onto the ground to reach me. I manage to dodge its hand as it slaps into the ground where I was standing, instead catching the bag of five remaining flasks and they explode into fire. However, I didn¡¯t see the hand that WAS holding the tree as it grabs me from behind in a vice-like grip. The flames on its chest being snuffed out by the belly-flop, it gets the bright idea to shove its burning hand into a nearby snow drift, snuffing it out, as it drags me to its opening mouth. If I¡¯m going to be a meal, I¡¯m giving you fucking indigestion! Once I am nearly down the gullet, I reach my free hand INTO its mouth and call out ¡°Laevateinn!¡± With a muted flash of opalescent light, my mithril saber appears in my hand, from where it sits in a gap between the troll¡¯s jagged lower teeth to the point resting against its palate. It gets a confused look in its eyes at the sensation, making me laugh in futile despair as I hear a cry of ¡°BROTHER!¡± from above me. Looking over the top of the troll¡¯s head I see Torden running up the thing¡¯s back, ¡°Mister Slammy¡± raised above his head. With a quick realization I pull my hand out of the troll¡¯s mouth, a split second before the of his warhammer striking the top of the troll¡¯s head. Not only cracking the skull open like an egg, but also driving Laevateinn into its brain! Its muscles start to spasm, throwing Torden from its back while thankfully also throwing me across the clearing as its hand OPENS on the flailing arm, rather than CLOSES. I roll across the ground a couple times, bleeding off momentum, before fetching up against a thick shrub getting more than a few nicks and dings, At least its not a tree! I get up and quickly stumble sideways, to lean against a tree, Yep, that¡¯s a sprained knee for sure, maybe the same ankle too. Figuring I¡¯m close enough anyway, I start unleashing acid splash shots into it, until it stops moving. Unfortunately for another couple archers, having swapped to their swords and shields to hack at the troll¡¯s flesh, they get caught by the flailing limbs before that happens. But, eventually, it DOES Just FUCKING DIE! I don¡¯t know if I was yelling that last part, or just thinking it. Everybody was screaming and shouting, I was in IMMENSE pain, and I¡¯ve never hating something more in my life. Alright you piece of trans-dimensional crap, you are¡­temporarily¡­number TWO on my nut-kicking list. Once it had stopped moving, it was time to collect our dead, and lick our wounds. *** We wind up making camp in the same newly-made clearing where we fought the troll, after some of the warriors use axes to cut the corpse apart and move it into the trail it had made. The horses were caught up on a tree not 20 feet away, making recovering our supplies easier. As some of the warriors were setting up leather hide tents, while the other activities were going on, Torden lets me borrow his shoulder so that we can go check on Aedirboa¡¯s care of our father. She¡¯s crying¡­that is NOT a good sign¡­ Sitting down besides the two of them with Torden¡¯s help, I can see that Borden¡¯s face is more like a hamburger package, but at least he¡¯s still breathing. ¡°Its OK Aedirboa, where there¡¯s life there is hope, between us and Venradik¡¯s medicines we can get him back to his old laughing self in no time,¡± I say, trying to comfort her, and even more so trying to convince myself. Then she holds up the hand that was hidden by Borden¡¯s head, ¡°I don¡¯t know how to put this back, and Venradik never could either.¡± Holy shit¡­is that his EYE?! Yes, yes it was, evidently it had popped out like a cork from a Champaign bottle when his head hit the tree. Well THAT¡¯S not good. ¡°I¡¯ll help Aedirboa, we will do what we can, and¡­pack that in snow, and put it in a bag, he might go looking for it later,¡± I say with a squinting wink at her. A lame attempt at a joke, but she stops crying and gives a snuffling chuckle, At least she¡¯s not despondent anymore. Using some of Venradik¡¯s elixers, most of them actually, we manage to fix up Borden¡¯s face to be recognizably a FACE again. Then, it¡¯s time for me to use prestidigitation to move things and summon weapon for a scalpel, to cut open his face AGAIN so that I can extract the shards of wood that got imbedded in it. Now that I can differentiate THEM from HIM, that is. After splinting his broken arm, I can tend to my OWN wounds¡­a couple hours later. My knee AND ankle were BOTH sprained, but not torn or broken. I didn¡¯t notice a branch from the shrub had penetrated my back, imbedding into the flesh of my kidney, until I had finished tending to Borden. Aedirboa does what she can pulling it out and washing the wound, then sealing it shut with some of Venradik¡¯s flesh glue. One of the warriors, I think one of the guys who hacked legs alongside Borden, helps me wrench my leg into place and then tie off the splints to immobilize it while I¡¯m screaming. I pull out a couple of Venradik¡¯s talismans, putting one into my pants just below the busted knee, and the other in the impromptu cast on Borden¡¯s arm. Supposedly they will accelerate healing, but I won¡¯t know if I managed to get them working until I see the effects. Thankfully my bag and most of its contents survived the battle. Torden spends the entire time just¡­lost. In one afternoon he went from being a fun-loving prince on a trip with his father, enjoying time chatting and joking around; to the survivor of what SHOULD have been a deadly event, with a father who might be dying right in front of him. Poor guy¡¯s shellshocked. I try comforting him, telling him that Borden will be pissed at him AND proud for that running-up-the-back stunt, but no matter what he just ignores me. No, not ¡°ignores¡±, he doesn¡¯t NOTICE me, just sits there staring at his father, where we had to leave him at the foot of the same tree for fear of his neck being broken. A couple of the warriors just build a tent around the two of them. I do my best to help out after I¡¯m done with my medical needs, and failing to pull Torden out of his funk. Casting prestidigitation to melt snow, warm food, and seal gaps in the tents to ward off the wind. One of the warriors even had the foresight to make a crutch for me out of a branch, getting me somewhat mobile. I didn¡¯t know that being ¡®disabled¡¯ in The Harrowed Earth was THIS annoying! Everybody¡¯s mood improves drastically once Aedirboa breaks out the pain-relieving tea, and boils up a big batch of it in the cooking pot for everybody, me included. But not Torden, who just ignored Aedirboa when she took some to drip-feed it into Borden¡¯s mouth, like she once had done for Torden so many years ago. She was faintly crying as she left their tent, and fell asleep in mine after crying herself out into my shoulder. I just pulled the bearskin over her as well, and slept myself. My last thoughts before I drifted off were, We have three dead, two seriously injured, PLUS Borden and myself¡­and we aren¡¯t even halfway to Valdi. Not a good sign. I wond¡­er¡­ *** Come dawn I am alone in my furs, but my leg feels MUCH better. Huh, guess Venradik¡¯s charm worked. Still not good enough to actually WALK on, but at least I can stand and move around with the help of my crutch. Slipping out of my tent I can see the snow on the ground piled up over the night, reaching about halfway to my knee, which is worrisome¡­if we get snowed under there is NO way these tents will survive. So I stump my way to the tent that I see Aedirboa coming out of, the same one with Borden inside, only to stop when she looks at me and shakes her head. She makes her way to where I am standing to tell me, ¡°Don¡¯t bother trying to talk to him. I don¡¯t know who is lost more, Torden or his father, but until Borden recovers or dies¡­I think Torden is not coming back.¡± Fuuuuckk. I go over to where the still-living warriors have set up the cooking pot, under some trees. A few of them look haggard from poor sleep, but ALL of them look to be in bad spirits, ¡°Hey fellas, as long as we are stuck here, we might as well make the place decently comfortable. So come on, finish eating and shake your legs out, we got an ACTUAL camp to build!¡± My jovial attempt at command¡­did NOT go well. ¡°Go fuck a goat Laughash.¡± ¡°You aren¡¯t Borden, HE is in charge, NOT you!¡± ¡°Yeah, if Borden is too sick to tell us what to do, then it¡¯s up to TORDEN to take charge.¡± Add in several invectives and allusions to my parentage that I will NOT repeat, since there is a non-zero chance my kid winds up reading this, but¡­respect. Got to give them some props for creativity, at least. So I take a deep breath, and channel my inner drill instructor, ¡°Listen up you fatherless sons of rats! Borden is on his sickbed, half-dead, and Torden¡¯s heart is likely there waiting for him! That leaves ME, the adopted savage son, who has SAVED Torden¡¯s ass more times than I can count, to save YOUR ungrateful butts too! Now you can either piss and moan about why the Jarl isn¡¯t here to clean your nappies, or you can pick your nuts up off the ground and listen to ME, so I can save HIM!¡± Aedirboa was looking at me in shock, from her tent over on the other side of them, and the warriors were looking at me like I had grown two feet¡­and THEN grew horns! But they obeyed. Using the horses for power, I had them drag fallen tree trunks, over to the tree under which Borden was on the border between life and death. Then, making a fulcrum from a tree I had them chop down so that it fell onto another, they tie the two off. With this they could use ropes and the horses to pull the end of each log UP, so it rested against Borden¡¯s tree, before scaling it to cut and tie it to the still-living tree. By repeating this process we were able to make a fan about a third of a circle wide around the tree, and used another log on the opposite side to brace the central tree against the weight. While new trees were getting dragged into place, I had Aedirboa and two of the warriors on the roof of trees, weaving their branches together so that the falling snow would form a snowpack roof, like happens for the tribe¡¯s woven-branch huts. We had the roof section done by nightfall, and everybody moved their tents under it. It provided little protection from the wind and bone-chilling air, but the lack of snow atop the tents let them actually get COMFORTABLE for the night. So the men were not only more amenable to my instructions, come the next morning, but I was actually woken up by one of them to start the day¡¯s work! As I sat up in my now-warm furs, eating the meat porridge somebody had made before dawn, I couldn¡¯t help but think, This is like taking the men on landside exercises, good thing I took that field survival course. This day was spent denuding the inside of the trees, removing the branches so they could be woven into the framework of smaller trees being set in the sides of this MEGA lean-to. While backtracking the troll¡¯s path for more fallen wood, the warriors ambushed and killed a boar, greatly adding to our meat supply! All while the snow returned, but not as deeply as before¡­until nightfall that is. So with a deadline burning under their butts, we managed to get the horses inside the lean-to and seal it up, with lots of spare wood to use for the slow-banked fire that gave us heat and a little light, augmenting the dancing lights that Aedirboa would manifest to help the people working under the tree-roof. That night the wind picked up, and I mean HARD, if we had been staying in tents then the last thing we would have had to worry about was being crushed under the snow! We could hear the occasional of forest-floor detritus hitting our imprompt-to, as we roasted the boar for dinner. I pretended not to notice some of the men looking at me like I was some sort of fortune-teller, able to predict that the tents would be useless in the coming storm¡¯s winds, If I can get a little bit of mystique, then they are more likely to just do what I say in the future. I think we are going to NEED that obedience, since we HAVE to stay the winter here. At least until Borden wakes up. I had no illusions that he could survive the trip back, even if strapped to the back of a horse or being dragged in a pallet. The weather was turning stormy as well as colder, without this shelter¡¯s warmth he would freeze to death, since he wasn¡¯t moving his muscles to stay warm. With sending out hunting parties and making a few traps to catch about half of the animals that come to eat the troll¡¯s flesh, we managed to survive for the two weeks it took for Borden to wake up. But he wasn¡¯t out of the woods, yet¡­pun intended. *** ¡°I can¡¯t feel my hands,¡± where the first words Borden said as he woke up, according to Torden after he stopped scream for Aedirboa and I in his astonishment. The kid was looking as rough as his father, barely having eaten anything while sitting at Borden¡¯s side, leaving only to shit in the midden-sluice we had put in at the edge of the structure¡­and cry silently. I know because it was my ¡°job¡± to play air freshener after somebody used it. Which, to be honest, didn¡¯t do MY appetite any good either! I move aside the tent flap with one hand, the other still holding up my britches, just a step ahead of Aedirboa. Why did you THINK I mentioned the crapper? Telling Torden to get out so we can both tend to him, he FINALLY looks at me, and moves. As Aedirboa climbs inside to kneel beside me Borden says, ¡°I¡¯m trying to hug you son, I really am, but something is on my arm and I cannot lift it.¡± ¡°That would be the sticks and leather holding the broken bones in place so they can heal right, my Jarl. It was Laughash¡¯s clever idea, you can hug him when you have recovered,¡± she says while tearing up. Borden looks confused after a second, ¡°Then why can I not move my OTHER arm? Is that one broken as well?¡± Oh no¡­ ¡°Borden, try lifting a leg for me will you?,¡± I ask gently, hiding my own fear. He could not, but he COULD feel something when I pressed a sliver of a twig into the bottom of his feet, like I¡¯ve seen on all those medical shows. After stepping out with Aedirboa to talk to Torden, and hearing what his father¡¯s first words were, we had a discussion¡­my first medical conference. We went back inside, and I told Borden the news, ¡°Father, I-.¡± ¡°Stop right there son, I know I am dying, otherwise you would not call me ¡®Father¡¯. You call Torden your brother, but have ALWAYS addressed me as either a Jarl, or by name, but NEVER as family. All I ask is that you end me with dignity, and burn my corpse alongside whatever warriors died fighting that thing, alright? Consider this an order from your father, not your Jarl¡­that will be Torden from now on.¡± Huh, good speech, he must have been working on it since he realized he was paralyzed. ¡°No BORDEN, I will NOT kill you, since you WILL walk again. The damage is bad but it is NOT permanent, so long as we do not move you, then you will make a full recovery. It will be slow, and you will have to re-learn how to walk right, but you WILL walk again. Now, your broken arm is going to take longer to heal than you would like, and you will be walking long before you can use it properly again. Just be careful not to move your head, you stubborn old goat, or Torden WILL be burning your bones!,¡± as I was making MY speech I was carefully pulling Venradik¡¯s talisman out of his primitive arm cast. Checking it, I could see with detect magic that it was still ¡°charged¡±, evidently I had failed to activate it. I place it¡­slowly¡­under his neck as I try to activate it. I hope that this works, this time. ¡°Why can¡¯t I open my eye? Can you take your salve from it, so I can see you both¡­please?,¡± his voice was filled with worry, obviously predicting what we were going to say. When he saw the fallen look on my face, he closed his remaining eye and started to tear up softly. ¡°Please My Jarl, stop crying, or your other¡­eye¡­will fester,¡± Aedirboa said. ¡°Aedirboa, see to it that he sleeps, and tend to him alright? Borden, I¡¯ll take care of Torden, and he will take care of the men. Don¡¯t worry; we are set up to winter here for a long time, just focus on getting better,¡± with those parting words, I leave to go talk to Torden. Now that his mind is back, I got to keep him busy, so he doesn¡¯t have TIME to get depressed about his dad¡¯s situation. Keep him focused on Borden¡¯s recovery, not what he¡¯s lost. ¡°Come outside with me brother, I need your help to get something done for Borden,¡± slimy manipulation, I know, but it¡¯s for his own good. On our way out we grab a couple axes, from where we¡¯ve stacked the horses¡¯ cargo in our cramped sanctuary. Then we go outside into the still-swirling snow, and walk down the giant¡¯s trail until we come to the more denuded of its thighs, ¡°We need to hack the flesh off this leg, so we can bring the bone back to the shelter. Borden will need me to make something of it, so he can walk again. I need you, HE needs you, to help with this¡­I am too weak to work its bones, but YOU have the strength I lack!¡± So we spend a couple hours hacking away the frozen flesh. Mostly Torden actually, I wasn¡¯t lying about him being so much stronger than me. Fetching a rope once we are down to bloody bone, the two of us drag it to the entrance of the shelter shortly before sunset, ¡°Go sleep while I clean this, Torden. Tomorrow the REAL work begins!¡± Exhausted from his efforts he just nods, before going back inside to pass out besides his father, too tired to disturb him. The next morning I wake up Torden with a thick hunk of last night¡¯s wolf meat, reheated by my magic, and bid him to follow me outside with ¡­groan¡­¡°Mister Slammy.¡± We head outside into the calm morning air, the sky showing it will snow soon, ¡°Now brother, you must shatter and remove the thick parts of the thigh bone on the top and bottom, before we can work with the rest. Yours is the only weapon that can break these bones, we know that from the fight, and yours are the only arms that can swing it hard enough. Borden will need this, so please, work on it whenever you can handle the weather.¡± With the thunderous sounds of every from his swings, I go inside to talk to the men. I tell them not to disturb Torden, and that they will have to range further out for game, since he is going to be scaring it away for a while. But, if this past tenday has proven anything, it is that we CAN survive the whole of winter here if we must do so while Borden recovers. The news of Borden¡¯s recovery brightens their spirits, and I nearly face-plant from all the back slapping. With that, weeks pass. *** It takes almost two weeks for Torden to finish breaking the bone¡¯s knobby ends, by which time Borden can move his unbroken arm. It shakes and is hard for him to control, but it MOVES! Convinced that his sweat equity is paying dividends, Torden finishes his task with some hustle to it. Then, to KEEP him busy, I set him to the more delicate task of removing all the hard shell around the softer core of the bone. Did you know that troll bones aren¡¯t hollow, but actually surround a REAL bone with a rock-like shell? I didn¡¯t¡­but I do now! I call Laevateinn to my hand before handing it over to Torden, to be used as a wedge for slowly tapping out the bone core by shaving off the kinda-rock sheath. With each day spent on a fallen log he dragged over to sit on, tapping his hammer against the flat backside of my sword, Torden¡¯s father continues to recover. His arms get steadier, and he regains control over his bowels (THANK GOD!). The paralysis seeming to receding downwards, as Venradik¡¯s charm and his own prodigious constitution conspire to heal him as fast as if he was in a modern-day hospital back on Earth. By the time he can stand, shaking the entire time and weak as a kitten, Torden finished removing the bone core and I am set to MY part of the task. Torden has since taken over tending to his father¡¯s daily needs, helping him to the cooking fire or the midden as needed, with the two of them spending most of the day in their tent talking. I might as well do SOMETHING myself, since I told Torden that his father was going to need this. Originally I was planning on turning a fragment of the bone into a staff or walking stick for Borden, something he can lean on while he regains his coordination. But Torden turns out to be better at making things than I thought, with the entire length of the troll¡¯s thigh-bone¡¯s core available. I search the bone fragments until I find one the right shape, then use the face of¡­...¡°Mister Slammy¡± to chip and polish it into a sharp point. Binding that point to the notched end of the bone, tied off with strands of the troll¡¯s hair and a LOT of glue made from the stomachs of several of the animals we¡¯ve been eating, it forms a head-tall spear to replace the one the troll broke as it fell. Borden can¡¯t use it with just one arm, but he CAN use it as a walking stick, and it will give him motivation to recover his strength once his broken arm is fixed up. With nothing better to do than wait until Borden can walk well enough to ride a horse back to Askfj?r, I spend the rest of the months we are trapped in place carving ¡°runes¡± into the spear, using Laevateinn¡¯s tip like an oversized xacto knife. The ¡°runes¡± being the lyrics to ¡°Carry On Wayward Son¡± by Kansas in English¡­dad LOVED that song, and I figured that he would appreciate the nod to him in my new father¡¯s walking stick. I have to admit it after all this, Borden IS a good father to Torden, and has been trying to be the same to Me. It has absolutely NOTHING to do with my missing home, and my own family. Seriously, it doesn¡¯t. I mean it. Once Borden can walk without his legs shaking, even though he still needs Torden¡¯s shoulder for balance, I present him with his new spear. There, standing on his own for the first time in several weeks with his face covered in several small scars except for the giant one running down from his empty left socket to his chin, the warriors all cheer at the return of their Jarl. ¡°Not even DEATH could take him!,¡± says one, as the rest laugh in joy, Borden included. But once the joviality settles down, and the warriors await their Jarl¡¯s command to break camp and return home, his orders are¡­unexpected, ¡°We have been delayed for half of winter, but we STILL have a promise to keep! Our distant cousins have been suffering as the prey of this rampaging wolf-man tribe, praying for us to save them, and where have WE been? Stuck here, for several moons, barely a day¡¯s WALK from our home! I say that they have waited long ENOUGH. So, my brave warriors, spend this day preparing the horses and gathering what we need to make the trip, for come dawn we CONTINUE south. I refuse to die so long as I have a promise to fulfill, so if I must I will travel alone, then I WILL.¡± With that he limped his way to his tent, leaning on the spear so he can do it under his own power, before crawling inside. Coughing to get everyone¡¯s attention, Torden starts to speak, ¡°You heard my father, let¡¯s get to work. You two are going to be guiding the pack horses again, so go gather green-needle branches for fodder, while the rest of us go hunt whatever we can find to tide us over for the trip. Aedirboa, you stay here and make whatever elixers you can, I get the feeling that we are going to need a LOT of them when we arrive. Laughash, you-¡± ¡°Stay here to keep the campsite safe from anything that happens upon it, so the horses aren¡¯t eaten? Good idea Torden, let me go discuss this with Borden to see if he has any advice to give me,¡± I gruffly interrupt before turning my back on him, and marching the six or so steps to the tent at the apex of our camp. I can¡¯t BELIEVE this foolishness! It has been MONTHS since we left Askfj?r, there is ZERO chance that we will find anybody left to save! Crawling into Borden¡¯s tent, I interrupt him as he opens his mouth to speak, ¡°I did NOT reach into the afterlife and drag your spirit kicking and screaming back to the land of the living, only for you to throw it away! Was your eternal sleep so pleasant, that you wish for your warriors to share it? What about Aedirboa and I, do WE deserve death for your wounded pride? DAMN IT TO HELL ¡®FATHER¡¯, what of TORDEN?!¡± I was FUMING at this point, my words coming out in a viper-like hiss through squinted eyes, visible in the dim candle-like light being cast by one of Aedirboa¡¯s dancing lights, which also showed Borden¡¯s¡­kind but firm expression? With a soft sigh he tells me, ¡°Laughash you are probably the cleverest person in Askfj?r, maybe the whole of the Northland, with wisdom and insights that sometimes seem divinely inspired. But this often blinds you to the way NORMAL people see things, or even simpler matters. I know that you think this trip is dangerous, and I can ¡®see¡¯ why, and I too understand as you do that there is not likely to be anybody LEFT to rescue. But the very long time that has passed is on our side in this, because the wolf-men are likely to have left for better hunting grounds, once the meat ran out. But they WILL have left behind signs of their strength, so we can see how great a force WE will need to defend against in the winters to come! Since we need that knowledge, I MUST go there to see it, because I cannot trust my decisions on even YOUR eyes. And if I did go back, then left again once the snow breaks, we would not only be losing precious days but ALSO giving the impression that the Jarl¡¯s words are not worth the breath it takes to spit them out. If we are to survive when they come for US, then we cannot AFFORD that kind of hesitation.¡± Fucking asshole¡­is¡­ ¡­right. ¡°I apologize for my outburst father, you are correct, I do not know as much of this world as you do even IF I know far more in other matters.¡± After he looks at me with a puzzled expression on his face, I interrupt him again when he opens his mouth to ask the inevitable question, ¡°Venradik bade me to keep my wisdom to myself when I was young, for fear of being exiled or even killed, but¡­well¡­I cannot TELL you where it comes from, just what I KNOW, is that ok?¡± At a nod from him, I continue. ¡°You have seen Sikan, myself, and others cast what¡­two maybe three tens of spells? While I do not have the ability to cast them, I have the knowledge of HUNDREDS, as well as an understanding of how to make MORE. I have the skills to build structures like this, only rising as high as the tallest tree, and I know that it is possible to build as high as the MOUNTAINS. I can build boats that travel without sail, iron horses that consume oil and roar their fury, capable of moving faster than the wind. I can build weapons capable of calling upon the thunder of the storm, and drawing it down to smite my foes. I can speak languages that do not exist, and the runes on your staff are in one of them, a SONG believe it or not. My head swims with more minor skills than I can put into words, with more stories than the entire village has ever believed COULD exist, and more years of life than my face shows. Jarl Borden, if you were to string the days of my life together, both in memory and in winters since I got them, then we would be as close in age as Torden and myself¡­but I know not which of us would be the eldest!,¡± by the end of this little explosion, I¡¯m crying from the relief, being able to bring this man I respect SO MUCH into my confidence. But fearing his reaction. After all, I did just tell a barbarian KING that compared to me, ¡°he ain¡¯t SHIT¡±. ¡°I thought as much Laughash, from Sikan¡¯s fear of you, but I did not know the extent of it. So,¡± he reaches out to grip my forearm ¡°can you translate this song, and sing it for me? We can discuss what aid your gods-given knowledge can do to help the village survive next winter, afterwards. Forgive me for needing my curiosity satisfied while my heart rests.¡± So, after laughing with a suddenly-light feeling in my own chest, I sing a barbarian proto-Viking in a fantasy world ¡°Carry on Wayward Son¡±. It is hours later, and my entire repertoire of remembered songs by Pantera and (old) Metallica, with a few others; when the flap opens up and Torden grabs me by the back of the jacket to yank me out, ¡°Shut UP so we can sleep!¡± Before crawling in to take my place. As I lay there Aedirboa plops a bowl of stewed meat beside me, ¡°I liked your songs, especially that ¡®Cowboys from Hell¡¯ one, sing me some more later, ok?¡± Then she leaves. I sit up scooping my bowl into my lap, and see that it is late and everybody else is leaving the cook fire for their bedfurs. Huh, guess the show¡¯s over. *** The next day by popular demand, and to Torden¡¯s growing frustration, we head out on the march with the men singing the refrain to ¡°We Will Rock You¡± by Queen, but it translates more as ¡°stone¡± than ¡°rock¡±. I guess a bunch of hunters and part-time warriors appreciate the bloody-faced and bragging-rights themes, since they asked for me to sing it when we broke camp in the morning. Borden decided to leave the mega-MAGA-hat (it stands for ¡°Make Askfj?r Great Again¡±, which is a bit of fanboying embarrassment I don¡¯t share with the others) in place, since it was the largest structure built by the village to date, and he thought it might be useful after the winter thaw. Everybody is in a much more chipper mood than they have been in weeks, except for Torden whom I am getting the sneaking suspicion does NOT share my musical tastes. Even Borden has a gleam in his remaining eye, like he just found out that the light at the end of the tunnel is NOT a train. I¡¯m still walking the column melting snow for the men, but spending more time at the side of Borden¡¯s horse to talk about¡­¡°possibilities¡±. Most of what we discuss comes from documentaries on the Vietnam and Revolutionary wars that I watched with my father, which seems to catch his bloodthirsty fancy. He always said that they were ¡°educational¡±, but I doubt he could have predicted THIS! We have to let quite a lot of deer and other prey escape as we travel, since the archers can¡¯s guarantee a kill at the ranges they must shoot from, and I cannot use summon weapon to get a musket for fear of some monster in the area being attracted by the noise. But we manage, until an incoming storm front forces us to stop just above the tree-line about a day¡¯s trek to Valdi. Instead of a huge lean-to, I show them how to make blocks of snow to stack into an igloo, and then line the insides with deadfall from the trees just below us. We end up making a set of five of them, four for us and one for the horses, each of which faces inwards to the pit where we dug up the snow and erected an oversized tent that stretches from one igloo entrance to the other. That way we can funnel some of the heat from the campfire to each igloo, and block out the wind with the packed-down sides of the snowbank around it all, while rendering it virtually invisible to anything walking by. A couple days later once the storm passes Borden, still needing to lean on his spear to walk, decides to send me into the village with an older warrior (and my current igloo-roomie from Valdi) named Fjodr. We are given a couple days of supplies, and standing orders to NOT engage any ¡°wolf-men¡± (I STILL can¡¯t get him to call them ¡°gnolls¡±) we might see, but to report back their numbers instead. Then he takes me aside, ¡°I trust my own eyes before yours, but if anything can be trusted more it is your ability to survive situations that would have killed anybody else, so¡­come back to me, understand son?¡± Damn, this guy could have led eskimos to invade hell, with only the underwear on their asses. Oh, I¡¯m sorry ¡°Innuit¡± is the PROPER term, right? Well FUCK that, this is MY memoire¡¯s voice-over, and I will say what I want in it! So with that heart-warming confidence in mind, I follow Fjodr on what he remembers being the most concealed trail into Valdi. We are almost to the boathouse behind which the trail comes around, when Fjodr slips and falls on his ass. I lunge forward to slap a fur-mittened hand over his mouth before his scream draws attention, pulling it away after he is obviously just cursing while clutching his ass and rolling over. ¡°Hit your tailbone, didn¡¯t you?,¡± I chuckle. After a sideways glare, his eyes soften and he starts to chuckle too. Then outright LAUGHS in the suddenly-released stress, and I join in, both of us clutching our mittens over our mouths to muffle the noise. ¡°I tripped that¡¯s all,¡± he says as we stand up. Then turning to me he points towards the back of the boathouse, at the village beyond it, to try and explain the place¡¯s layout¡­but I can¡¯t hear him. All I can do is stare in shock at his mouth, before dropping to my hands and knees, to root around in the snow. ¡°What is it? What is wrong?,¡± he says. ¡°Your mouth is covered in blood. Blood from YOUR hands,¡± I tell him looking up to his face, and seeing the shock of a growing realization there. Then he drops down beside me and starts helping to swipe off snow. We uncover a few hands still held together by tendons, some leg-bones, and a few ribs, in just a couple of minutes. Then, we find a skull. A HUMAN skull, one on the smaller side. Just like what was found in so many of the mosques after Texas broke away, and the Rangers raided them. With grim determination we set our bloody discoveries aside, and continue into the town. Different world, same evil. I will NOT stand idly by and let this shit happen HERE too! *** We spend an hour sneaking around the town, but while we find several other ¡°feeding sites¡±, we find NO survivors nor the enemy. Yeah, that¡¯s right, these things are ¡°the enemy¡± now¡­deal with it. The village¡¯s winter stores of smoked fish are all gone as well, the tied-log casks they were in being filled with shit. However, the supply of wheat is still there, even though the farms at the edge have been burned down. I guess the filthy mutts don¡¯t know how to bake bread. Funny enough, no dogs in town, nor any signs of them being killed. I remember there was something about this from The Harrowed Earth¡¯s core rule book, but I can¡¯t remember what it is. Well whatever the reason, I doubt it is GOOD news! So with our report in proverbial hand, we decide to set up in the wheat storehouse, since that is the least-defiled location, and head out in the morning. Otherwise we¡¯d risk missing our hidden camp in the night. Not that we get much sleep, jumping at every wind-blown branch or flailing piece of leather. Come the morrow we groggily set out, arriving at the camp in the early afternoon after almost overshooting it, since last night¡¯s wind blew away our trail. Everybody gathers around the campfire while Fjodr and I tell them what we found, and Borden comes to a decision, ¡°We are leaving this camp here, for the return trip, but come dawn we are going into the village and will be collecting all the wheat and other useful items we can. We will make sleds to drag behind the horses, bringing back as much as possible, and anything we CANNOT bring back we will store in the boathouse that the trail led to.¡± With that he stumps off to his igloo angrily, but we can see the rage-fueled tears coming down from under the leather thong covering his empty eye socket. So it is with grim determination we all set about getting ready to break camp, before I fall into an exhausted sleep that night. Waking up I find Aedirboa dragged her sleeping furs over to mine, easy to do since we share an igloo with the two warriors from Valdi, probably hunting for some sense of security in the night. Poor thing, she¡¯s always thought of me as her personal savior since the slave pits, I think, before shaking her awake to start the day. Aedirboa and I set out to make some meat stew to fuel everybody for the trip, while they get all our other camping gear rolled up and into packs or on horses. Except for Borden who supervises, trying to keep it running smoothly without leaving anything behind, other than the leather tarp. Then we stow them in our packs, after scrubbing out our used wooden bowls with snow, before starting the march towards our funeral duties. The trip is uneventful, except for a gust of wind so strong that it knocked over one pack horse. It had to be unloaded and stood up before, being reloaded¡­maybe an hour of lost time. Arriving at the longhouse we unload the pack horses into it, and then put them on long leads at the base of the dock so that they can forage and exercise a bit; with only the horse-men tending them. Then it is a task for the rest of us to go from building to building, either passing them over as ruined and worthless, or scavenging them and forming a ¡°fire brigade¡± to unload anything useful that we find down the line to our impromptu warehouse. We get about a third of the way through the village doing this, reaching the end of how far we can comfortably daisy-chain, before Borden calls it off for the day. Since we only have a half-hour of daylight left we collect all the horses and go to the storehouse with the wheat, setting them up in a leanto made from our leather tarps outside of it, against the wall where we dig out a fire pit and knock a hole in the thatch roof to form a chimney. So the horses stay warm through the night, along with the rest of us¡­we¡¯re just sick of smelling their farts, so outside they go! The rest of us collect inside the warehouse, many sleeping atop baskets of wheat, since none of us want to sleep in any of the village¡¯s slaughter-¡°houses¡±. Without enough room for everybody, Fjodr and his fellow warrior volunteer to camp outside in tents up against the open door for heat, just in case. Afterwards, it takes us five days to finish looting the village. It would have been three, but a snowstorm came in, and we lost a day to that then another to having to make paths through the snow with our flat wooden-headed spades. And so, a week after we started all of this, it is time to start making sleds. We COULD have used the village¡¯s ice-house sleds, made for ice fishing over the long winter, but they were gone along with the fishing boats. We had hope that this meant SOME of the villagers survived by taking their chances out on the lake, at least until we found the remnants of their timbers in the fire pits. Holy FUCK this is depressing! Since we were not wanting to risk the woods, and any of the enemy¡¯s forces that might still be creeping around in them, we take apart the least-defiled houses to get the lumber we need for the sleds. With six horses, we can make six sleds, and four will be for the village loot. Which is mostly wheat, since we cannot be sure that it will still be useable come summer, without people and dogs to run off rats. Between disassembly, woodworking, assembly, and unpredictable snowstorms, it is another tenday before we set out. Which is good, since it takes that long for Borden to stand well enough to drive a sled, and he needs to be point-man on this due to the growing morale problems the men are having. You can only dig up so many child-sized bodies out of shit piles, before even barbarians start to feel depressed about it. These past three weeks have been HARD on the warriors, particularly those from Valdi. We couldn¡¯t bury anybody in the hard soil, so instead we built a raft on which to put their bones on. The last thing we did before leaving was for Torden, the two warriors of Valdi, and I to drag the loaded raft out into the icy lake. Covering it with the boiled fish oil used for lamps in this time and place, they stepped back as I lit I up with prestidigitation. After we all said a silent prayer for the dead, although I doubt to the same gods, we walked back and began the return caravan. Even so we have to still travel at walking speed, but more because of the sleds and the snow slowing down the horses, instead of the ten men walking behind us. I¡¯m walking in the front of that column, just behind the last sled, so I can refill and pass down-or-up whatever snow pouches are handed to me. More down than up to be honest, since the men are sweating from the exertion of the walk, instead of just standing at the head of a sled pulling on a horse¡¯s reins. We blow past our igloo camp, and set up a ¡°circled wagons¡±-style camp, fetched up against a small cliff in the eastern mountains at the edge of the tree-line. That night, with a snowstorm blowing in, it almost all came to an end but we managed to expand and harden our camp with a few hastily-cut trees and some branch weaving. Nowhere as good as the affectionately-dubbed MAGA-to, that they pronounce ¡°MAH-go-toe,¡± but it blocks the wind enough that we are able to survive for the next two-and-a-half days. Not wanting to waste more time, we are back on the trail that afternoon. So we hustle through the night and into the next day, until we stop at ¡°Mahgoto¡± for a good night¡¯s rest. This turns out to be a wise decision, because we get snowed in that night and can¡¯t even dig our way OUT for over a week. During that time, using a mixture of magic and ashes from the previously-stockpiled wood, I sit down with Borden and Torden to draw out the ¡°bright ideas¡± I have for our defense next winter. Torden ends up so bored that he passes out not half an hour into the discussion-cum-lecture, and not even repeated smacks to the back of the head from Borden could keep him awake for a full hour, so we let him drool where his head is on the top of ¡°Mister Slammy¡±. With a sigh, the two of us settle down to get some REAL work done, judiciously ignoring Torden¡¯s snuffling snores. So it is that after the week-long war college is finished, we finally hear the storm stop, and manage to dig ourselves out over the next couple days. Now with Borden having MOSTLY recovered from his injury at the start of winter, he switches off with Torden, doing the most-strenuous spadework at the tip of the veritable spear. We are all in a hurry, since the storm was an indication that midwinter had come, and if we failed to get into town before the next storm hit then we would NEVER get back until the spring thaw! Three days later we roll (ski?) into the tribal huts just south of the village wall, sending them running to both halves of the village to announce our return. A few voices rise up in cheers of joy, giving us a hero¡¯s welcome¡­or a king¡¯s. CHAPTER 6: The Wilds Run Rampant Jake Carpenter walks into the control trailer at the Sigurdsson farm, late since it was his turn to make the java run, carrying the coffee order for the rest of the day shift. ¡°Hey fellas, the night shift have anything to report?¡± ¡°Just the usual ¡®echo¡¯ at 17:17:43, magnetic flux level unchanged for¡­what, 47 days since we first detected it?,¡± piped up Luke Crowder from the electrodynamic station, in between slurps of rahmen. With a long put-upon sigh Jake then circles the double-wide trailer, passing the usual order around to the rest of the scientists working on the ¡®Thunderstruck¡¯ project, saving his own and Director Finnley¡¯s for the last. ¡°So boss, what¡¯s on the agenda for today?,¡± the engineer asks. Director Juliet Finnley almost snatches her double-tall cocoa, with a double-shot of expresso, and enough sugar to send her husband the dentist to dentist¡¯s school all over again. She avoids saying anything until half of it is resting warmly inside her stomach, and restoring the density of her caffeine stream. Tossing Jake the printout she was drowsily reading before he came in, while sitting back to bask in the vitalizing warmth. ¡°Well¡­fuck,¡± Jake says a couple minutes later, after reading it. With chagrin Juliet piles on the pain, eyes still closed, ¡°Yep, evidently a weird solid-gold diagram two meters across, that PRODUCES heat every 24 hours like clockwork, isn¡¯t a valid enough ¡®discovery¡¯ to merit our ongoing budget. If we don¡¯t produce ¡®more actionable¡¯ results, we are going to have to break camp when our mandate runs out end of the month.¡± After a bit of thought, Jake asked, ¡°What about the spatial distortion, or the seeming self-repair ability?¡± ¡°Not replicable, despite our best efforts, and even if they WERE¡­what does self-fixing gold or a 3-centimeter ¡®dip¡¯ after 10-meters do for the war effort to keep Texas free? I don¡¯t like it, but I can UNDERSTAND it.¡± ¡°Yeah boss, me to. I don¡¯t want to be rounded up and put in some commie death camp either. But I still get this niggling tingle in the back of my head, like we are missing SOMETHING¡­y¡¯know?,¡± Jake says, with a resigned sigh. Then a voice pipes into their conversation from the other side of the room, ¡°What about INCREASING the dip? The math indicates that this COULD be one side of a 4-dimensional structure, so¡­what if we just kick in the door, to see what¡¯s inside?¡± The four of us are met about halfway through the original Askfj?r village by Borden¡¯s adult daughter F¨¹rda, coming from the priests that have been training her, followed shortly by his wife Freygi. He brightens up at seeing them, smiling even as his daughter lays into him for, ¡°Thinking with his manhood instead of CONSULTING with her, before going off to stick his prick in somebody ELSE¡¯S business!¡± Freygi meanwhile comes running up before seeing he is back, slowing down and trying to reclaim SOME of her dignity, despite her obvious relief that Borden still lives. Then she calls out to him, ¡°Husband! You missed your return by MOONS, my lo¡­¡±. Turning around, smile still stuck to his scarred bushy-bearded face, he sees his wife with his one remaining eye. And all sense of dignity leaves her as she starts bawling in wracking sobs, running up to clutch his face in her hands, examining his healed wounds up close, ¡°Who DID this?! Where ARE THEY! I¡¯ll tear them apart and feed their still-mewling carcasses to the village dogs!!¡± Heh, hell hath no fury, even in another world. Sidling up to me, as her father and his wife clutch each other and share a private moment in public surrounded by increasingly-uncomfortable villagers, F¨¹rda side-talks to me, ¡°I missed his injuries, I am not proud to admit. Who do I have to thank for putting that puzzle-knot back together¡­you?¡± It occurs to me that I have not talked much about F¨¹rda, have I? Well see, Borden was a widower before he married Freygi, which was an arranged marriage to end a squabble between the Asfj?r and Valdi. He agreed to marry the Jarl of Valid¡¯s daughter, even though he was still mourning the loss of his first wife, who died in childbirth. Their love developed over the years that passed, as she slowly healed his broken heart. Before that F¨¹rda was taken in by the priest Sikan¡¯s wife who was her wet nurse, since Borden was not emotionally or physically capable of caring for the newborn, but grew up knowing Borden as her birthfather and spending time with him off-and-on as she grew up. This is how Sikan originally got enough into Borden¡¯s good graces to become a permanent advisor, at least until he pissed him off one time too many after I saved Torden¡¯s life that day in the woods. But as she grew older she grew to resent not having her mother around, and pulled away from Borden more with time. By the time I came into the Jarl¡¯s house, F¨¹rda was spending most of her time as Sikan¡¯s priestly understudy, and I only knew her in passing. Hell, it wasn¡¯t until last midsummer¡¯s celebration that I even found out Borden was HER father¡­I just knew that he had A daughter! Pretty much all the rest I know about her I discovered by asking around when the subject of conversation allowed. After a brief rendition of the troll fight story, and Borden¡¯s recovery, I get to the part where Torden was helping me make him a trophy spear when the family starts heading towards the longhouse. So I have to beg off the rest of the tale, and I leave F¨¹rda to pass the word on to the villagers. Finally reaching home, Badrik steps out from the door-flap to greet his father, still smelling of the pig-grease from his interrupted meal. Before he escorts us all inside and commands the servants to make more food to feed the returning heroes. Has this asshat been acting like the Jarl while we were gone?! Shortly after sitting down back home Venradik and Aedirboa join us for an impromptu monthly dinner, Borden taking over the head of the table from a briefly-frustrated looking Badrik. So as we get to relax for the first time in months, Borden tells the tale of the trip in between bites of stew and fruit-baked bread, with the rest of us filling in for what he missed. Unfortunately, the tale makes the others look uneasy, until eventually, they just stop eating and listen¡­their appetites obviously ruined. But not us, we¡¯ve been eating camp food for MONTHS, you¡¯d have to use a crowbar to get this wonderful fresh-baked goodness out of my face! *** Despite Sikan¡¯s protests, over the rest of winter, Borden and I draw up a map of Askfj?r and our planned defense. We go through several goat skins for plans and diagrams, as I trawl my memory for every dirty trick I can think of that our primitive civilization could pull off. Landmines are out, but pungi-stake pits are all the rage this coming fashion season! Meanwhile Borden calls a war council with his sons, the warriors from Valdi, and the surviving refugee elders. It was during this discussion that two commonalities were brought up: First, the attacks occur at the start of winter. Second, the first winter¡¯s attack is minor and probe-like, while the second winter¡¯s attack is an overwhelming tide. So with that in mind, we decide that we need to bleed the first attack as much as possible to weaken the second attack¡¯s force. Any that we can kill off in the first attack we will not have to face a year later, after all. The village¡¯s entire environs are too sprawling to defend the whole perimeter, so¡­we won¡¯t. Time for some inspiration from Sparta! We will ¡°funnel¡± them by building two earthen ramparts at the edge of the town, from the orchard¡¯s northern edge where it meets the mountains going south, and from the creek along the eastern mountains going northwest. Leaving a wide gap between the two, into the flat-ish land that runs towards the tribe¡¯s huts (now pretty much houses in their own right). We will cut back the woods come summer, to line the earthworks with a log palisade, so they cannot be easily climbed from the village-side. We will put in pungi-steak pits in that whole killing ground, to slow down and pin the enemy in place, while crippling them to prevent their retreat. At the border of the killing ground, we will extend the earthworks INWARDS, burying a large cut-log barracks room with several days¡¯ worth of supplies for a dozen warriors each. That way they can fire on the trapped enemy from atop the hills, and retreat to safety instead of being overrun. Finally, we will ¡°badger hole¡± the whole place, even MORE than a town made up of former hunter/gatherers and proto-Vikings already is! Giving everybody at least a fire-hardened long club, which is ¡°oddly¡± similar to something you would see at Rayleigh field. Filled with imbedded sharp rocks and iron slag spikes from the smithy, insert evil chuckle here. I call then ¡°Negans¡±, because¡­why not? I WAS going to go with ¡°Lucilles¡±, but they kept mispronouncing it, as usual, but for SOME damn reason they have no problem saying ¡°negan¡±. After spending the winter finalizing the plans, developing a cheap-and-fast way to make negans, and preparing for the spring construction project, the time to start arrives. *** I¡¯m laying out stakes to indicate where the edge of the northern wall is to run, when Torden comes up to have a chat, ¡°Brother, father has a task for us he says is more important that putting sticks in the ground. Maybe he wants you to go take a shit? Or scream back at the goats? ¡±. Yeah, Torden doesn¡¯t get the whole war-plan thing¡­he¡¯s too much of a straight-forward thinker. ¡°Very well Torden, let us go see who is louder. The goats¡­or you after I shove a squirrel down your breeches,¡± I joke, with a groan as I stand up and drop the hammer and armload of stakes I was using. ¡°Don¡¯t even JOKE about that Laughash, you promised NEVER to do it again, and I agreed I wouldn¡¯t draw on your scribblings anymore!,¡± he almost wails like a teenager finding out he can¡¯t use the car that weekend. I make sure that he doesn¡¯t see my grin. So while still trading friendly barbs, and Torden¡¯s occasional bone-crushing side hugs, we make our way over to where Borden and many of the village¡¯s men are laying into the trees. Moving around a horse they are tying to a fallen tree for hauling, we get Borden¡¯s attention so he can step away to talk to us, ¡°Boys, I need you to go into the east mountains, to a village there, for more warriors.¡± Torden and I share a confused look, before turning back to say in unison, ¡°What?!¡± At which Borden laughs, wiping sweat from his forehead. With a smile on his scarred face, ¡°You two are becoming more like brothers with every passing winter; it does your father¡¯s heart proud. But yes, we need MORE warriors for the war to come, and like it or not J¨¢rn is the next village in their path. Either they add their strength to ours and we destroy these wolf-men together, or they face them on their own after we are destroyed. To make that point, and make it WELL, I am sending the two of you along with Fjodr and a volunteer from the newer villagers.¡± ¡°But father, you need us HERE to dig pits and cut trees!,¡± pleads Borden, obviously not relishing ANOTHER trek into the mountains since the LAST one. I wonder when he developed this phobia? Now that I think on it, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve seen him go into the mountains since our time in the slave pits¡­ ¡°No son, three strong-armed men and one too clever for his own sake, will not dig enough holes nor cut enough trees to make a difference. But a dozen MORE, come winter, COULD mean we survive when we would have otherwise perished. So, go to the orchard storehouse, the two of them will meet you there with your travel supplies. You ARE leaving, TODAY.¡± With a grim set to his face, he turns to go back to cutting into trees, obviously dismissing us. ¡°Come on brother, I don¡¯t have the strength to DRAG you into this, but I can certainly BADGER you about it until you submit to Borden¡¯s orders,¡± with resignation, Torden decides I am correct and follows me to the Orchard storehouse, eyes downcast the whole time. ¡°Hey, cheer up; this is OBVIOUSLY just something he came up with while sweating this morning. You don¡¯t even KNOW how to get to this village, and I certainly don¡¯t! We can just laugh around with these other two about it, then chide him for his oversights tonight until he agrees to let us stay and sends somebody else tomorrow.¡± Torden perks up and even smiles through his fire-red increasingly Borden-like beard, ¡°You are right Lou! I don¡¯t even have Mister Slammy, and we CANNOT go into the mountains unarmed. ¡± I tilt my head back and sigh, before turning to look up at him, ¡°Torden, brother-mine, you KNOW that only Aedirboa calls me ¡®Lou¡¯, right? I barely tolerate it from her, what makes you think that I would tolerate it from YOU?¡± He laughs before saying, ¡°Oh yes, how can I forget AEDIRBOA, my apologies Laughash. I¡¯ll leave it to the two of you.¡± We are quite for the rest of the walk, except for Torden glancing at me with a shit-eating grin and laughing, for the rest of the walk. Sheesh, what the fuck is taunting that hamster in his head? Coming around one of the newer houses in the orchard half of the village, we see the front of the longhouse used for storage in the distance, and the two men standing there see us as well. Fjord waves Mister Slammy over his head, to get our attention, while the younger other man reaches inside the door to start pulling out leather backpacks, ¡°Welcome my princes, I look forward to this trip with you! At your father¡¯s behest I fetched your weapons for you, so here is your hammer Torden, and Laughash your daggers are rolled up in the top of your pack. This is Hidl, he is from the newer villagers, and this trip is to be his warrior¡¯s test. So fellows, I was told that we travel upstream the creek into the mountains until it splits at some sort of ¡®rainbow rock¡¯, then take the split downstream until we reach the village of J¨¢rn, have either of you been there before?¡± So¡­I¡¯ve been outsmarted by a one-eyed barbarian king, and as I look at Torden I see him looking at me with the same realization. We¡¯re stuck going on this trip, and Borden arranged everything to keep us from having the TIME to come up with a way out of it. Good play old man, I¡¯ve let him in on too many of my old U.S. Navy Warrant Officer tricks, and so he¡¯s got us by the short-and-curlies. Torden and I inspect our packs¡¯ contents while Hidl prattles on about how excited he is to travel with us. I am hoping SOMETHING was missing, for an excuse to stay in town, but we are out of luck. Evidently Fjodr packed them both, and he¡¯s an experienced enough woodsman to know what we will need, plus he was ¡°thoughtful¡± enough to even ask Venradik if there was anything else to take. So I don¡¯t have even THAT excuse to use for delaying the trip. FUUUUCCCKKKK. Thus it is with resignation, that the four of us walk towards the back of the original village where the two mountain ranges meet. Where the creek comes down before travelling along the eastern range¡¯s base, is where we begin the journey. I hope there are no giant spiders. *** I wish these were giant spiders! It is late evening, and the four of us are looking for a place near the divot created by the creek on which to camp, walking along the near-trail it created by means of thousands of years¡¯ erosion. We haven¡¯t found a nice flat space or a cave, but we DID find a pair of huge-ass bears¡­during mating season. A blast of color spray confused them enough that we were able to fall back to a thinner section of the trail, so only one could come at us at a time. Now Fjodr is holding it back with a burning tree/bush pulled out of the side of the cliff face and lit on fire with prestidigitation, but it is getting angrier every minute while the branch is nearly burned out. Hidl is standing behind him with a short bow, shooting the bear whenever he has a clear shot, but not doing much through its thick brown furred hide. Torden is behind me, hitting the cliff to dig out large chunks, before pitching them BEHIND the bear to keep its mate at bay whenever it tries to wade through the creek to get at us. Me? I¡¯m clutching Torden¡¯s dropped backpack for dear life, trying to pull myself back onto the trail after falling into the creek during our breakneck escape, and freezing my nuts off. I could drop my own pack and pull myself onto the bank easily, but then we would never retrieve it, and it is far too late to walk safely down to Askfj?r in the dark for a new one. If I hadn¡¯t turned to cast prestidigitation while we were running away, I wouldn¡¯t have missed the turn in the path! Lesson learned, now hopefully I live long enough to apply the lesson later. If these were giant spiders, at least the network of webs would have WARNED us. I must be getting hypothermic, I¡¯m starting to find this FUNNY, I think as I chuckle with chattering teeth. Then Torden¡¯s strong grip wraps around my forearm, as he pulls me bodily onto the trail below him with a muted , before turning back to smack more rocks around, ¡°Got any of your bright ideas to hand, brother?¡± ¡°D-d-d-d-r-r-r-op a r-r-r-r-r-r-ock-k-k-k on it-t-t-t?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not an ogre, and these cliffs aren¡¯t that steep, so no luck THERE, clever guy,¡± He says as he hurls yet another head-sized rock in the second bear¡¯s direction. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m ALREADY trying that, but it doesn¡¯t seem to be working.¡± ¡°B-b-b-bag-g-g b-b-b-r-r-rown-n-n b-b-bot-t-t-tle r-r-r-red-d-d-d t-t-t-top-p-p-p¡­,¡± I can barely get out as my vision starts to brown out from the wind-chill. The last thing I notice, before the darkness takes me, is being flopped onto my face by Torden. I wake up to the sound of crackling fire, and the warm smell of meat roasting over burning wood. Torden, who is holding a stick with a hunk of meat on it over the fire, smiles and shouts to the others when he sees me shift around under the layers of furs, ¡°Laughash is awake! Here brother, rest, let me cut you off a slice of bear.¡± It tastes like chewy leather ass, Torden seems incapable of making ANYTHING tasty, but he never appears to notice as he is wolfing down the rest of the roasting meet, ¡°So I found the bottle you told me about, but I didn¡¯t know what to DO with it. Turns out that the dust inside, when tossed into the bear¡¯s head, was enough to run it off. And the other bear climbed up the cliff when IT got a whiff as well! So that was a great idea, brother, got any more?¡± ¡°Torden¡­that was our ENTIRE supply of cooking licorice. You only needed a small handful of it blown into their faces to drive them off, not an entire BOTTLE of it!,¡± I say with weary exasperation. ¡°Oh, my apologies brother, but net time stay awake long enough to SAY that,¡± Torden says, while the three of them laugh at my facial expression. I guess my pained put-upon disbelief is a great punchline. So I grumble and curl up under my sleeping furs, or actually Torden¡¯s according to the smell, before drifting to sleep with a full belly of bear butt. Just to escape their embarrassing joviality. *** Come morning I do some doctoring on the claw nicks that Fjodr got from the bear¡¯s claws, and on my own cuts that I didn¡¯t notice before because of the freezing water and shock. Then the four of us resume our journey. It is a good two days of hiking, climbing, and occasionally wading through the edge of the creek; before we come to the fork in the stream. It is obviously the one we are intended to find, not just because it is the first split we find, but ALSO because the ¡°rainbow rock¡± is actually the mother of all quartz crystals imbedded into the granite of the cliff, right at water level! The noonday sunlight refracting through it, casting the entire area in faint rainbow light as it reflects and refracts off the water. We are all just standing there stunned at the sight, even Torden is awestruck, ¡°Beautiful¡­,¡± he says, lost in the experience. Then we all get soaked wading through the entire stream to the other side, Torden last as he tosses our packs to us from the other side, with his powerful pitching arm. Once all four of us are on the other side we strip down, pulling out the lower cliff branches while using the higher ones to hang our clothes on for drying. Then we just sit around a small fire to dry out and get warm, trying not to shiver TOO much from the wind across our naked skin. By the time we are done we only have a brief time to find a camping spot, so instead we spread out to sleep along the trail, and eat some smoked meat warmed with prestidigitation. Tastes MUCH better than that nasty-ass bear, at least. The next morning we set out to the downstream of the split in the creek, as it curls around deeper into the mountains. Eventually we come around a corner as the sun starts to set, excited for what we will see since we have smelled cook fires for a while, coming across a small encircled valley with a village in it. We have found J¨¢rn at last! *** There¡¯s a scream in the village as we come down the creek trail, followed by shouting. Shortly afterwards we are facing six muscle-bound men, half with drawn bows, and the others with swords and shields. So, of course, we stop. The biggest of the sword-bearers tells us to shut up, in slightly-accented speech, when Torden tries to explain who we are. So here we were, just standing there, for maybe a quarter hour before an older-looking warrior in an embroidered leather jacket comes casually walking towards us. He looks at us, his eyes stopping when he sees Torden, and says, ¡°So what in hell does Borden want THIS time?¡± Yeah, this guy must be the local Jarl. Torden then puts his foot firmly in his mouth, probably pissed at the guy staring him down and his insulting tone of voice when mentioning his father, ¡°He wants to give YOU a chance to save your worthless hide, are you going to turn him down, goat-fucker?¡± I think I might have concussed myself with that face-slap, Way to go antagonizing the man, Torden. Why don¡¯t you kick him in the nuts, and call his mother a bad fuck, while you are at it? ¡°Take them to the winter storehouse, and keep them inside. If they don¡¯t surrender their packs and weapons, just kill them,¡± the Jarl says, before storming off in a huff. Torden gets red-faced and pissed, grabbing the handle of his warhammer before I grab his forearm. ¡°Trust me Torden, our best chance to get out of this with our hides intact is to go along with them. Don¡¯t worry, we WILL get our stuff back ONE WAY OR THE OTHER, understand?¡± I look at my adopted brother, pleading with him to surrender, while he looks back at me with pure FURY in his eyes. A couple of breaths later he has calmed down, let go of Mister Slammy (one of these days I WILL get him to call it Mjolnir, damnit!), and agrees to be detained. So there we are in the village¡¯s nearly-empty storehouse, weaponless and without our packs. Well¡­MOSTLY weaponless. Not to mention my summon weapon spell and the ability to use it to bring Laevateinn to me, there¡¯s also the belt pouch I keep my spell components in, and the daggers down each of my boots. Good thing these guys don¡¯t know how to properly frisk somebody¡­guess it isn¡¯t something they think they need to worry about, in a world where ¡®weapons¡¯ are typically swords and bigger metal monstrosities. They toss us some dirty furs to sleep with for the night, give us fairly tasteless bowls of gruel, and a bucket for afterwards. No fire or anything, but we are comfortable enough to sleep that night, despite the stink. The next morning I feel a sharp pain in my thigh, as one of the village warriors kicks me awake along with the rest of us, ¡°The Jarl wants to talk to you, come now.¡± ¡°Torden, keep your trap SHUT unless it is to apologize, understand?,¡± I whisper to Torden as we walk to the Jarl¡¯s longhouse. He grumbles, probably hungry, but doesn¡¯t disagree. Best I¡¯m going to get, I guess. We are escorted into the Jarl¡¯s longhouse with a guard for each of us, standing there as he eats his morning meal being tended to by servants, ¡°I¡¯ve thought it over, and I¡¯ve decided NOT to have you killed¡­yet. I want to hear what message that whining shit wanted you to deliver, so speak it.¡± Torden¡¯s face gets beet-red again, the difference between his beard and skin almost imperceptible, so I elbow the oversized rage-ball in the hip to distract him. He lets out a gasping breath and clutches it, turning to look at me, as I glare at him from my the side-eye. Once he calms down a bit I speak up, ¡°Jarl, my apologies for my brother¡¯s gruff speech last night, but the essence of what he said was true. There is an army of wolf-men monsters capable of wielding weapons and thinking like men that has been slowly coming this way over the past few years, consuming the people of each village they have come across. Askfj?r is next, and then they will attack J¨¢rn after WE fall. That is why Borden has bid us to come here to beg your assistance with the fight coming this winter. If we fall, YOUR¡¯S will be the next village on their cook-fires, so it is in your own interests to send warriors to us to fight them off these next couple winters, before that can happen.¡± He finishes eating the hunk of meat he was chewing after I spoke, probably using the time to parse my words, before replying, ¡°So you need warriors for TWO winters, and these creatures are to attack DURING the winter instead of the spring or summer, which is the typical time of war? This sounds unlikely.¡± Then he dips some hard bread in soup, and starts eating it, while looking at me as he waits for a reply. Not wanting to disappoint him I try to explain, ¡°Winter is not the time of war for US, bit THEY are furred and so feel the cold less. Unlike US they don¡¯t keep winter stores, thinking the next village is their¡¯s to consume, as their winter food supply. The first attack is just to test our defenses, not intended to conquer, just find what problems they might have for the following winter after they have eaten all prey in the woods. Then the following winter they attack in an unending wave of weapons and teeth, rolling over any defenses they have found, and consuming all people in the village. So far we know that they have destroyed TWO villages before us, but thanks to some survivors who managed to escape these attacks we have figured out their pattern. Now, with YOUR help, we can kill them off BEFORE they sweep into the mountains looking for fresh prey.¡± ¡°WHAT survivors? All I see are two dew-faced princes, and a young man whose balls are still smooth, being escorted by ONE warrior who knows what he is doing,¡± the Jarl doesn¡¯t look convinced. So I look to Fjodr, and wave him forward to speak, ¡°I am Fjodr, from Valdi. My village has traded fish with you for your iron, before. I am one of only two survivors of Valdi, so that is why nobody has come to you to offer trade again.¡± Then I step in, pushing Hidl in the back so the shell-shocked young man steps forward, ¡°And THIS is Hidl, from the Fjord village of Nifl (which translates in English to ¡°mist¡±, pretty appropriate) that you might have heard of. He escaped with his people as a child, to find refuge with us, a few years ago¡­but only one in five survived the trip.¡± The Jarl sits there thinking for a few minutes, his meal forgotten. Picking up a bowl of berries he says, ¡°Both of you from these dead villages stay, take the others back to the storehouse.¡± Damn, he wants confirmation, and those two aren¡¯t the best talkers. So with reluctance, Torden and I return to the longhouse. At least they give us some smoked meat and berries to eat, as well as emptying our bucket. About an hour later the other two are pushed in here with us, having told their stories to the Jarl before being unceremoniously returned to confinement. I hope he is convinced. Come that evening he comes to the longhouse, and he is NOT convinced, ¡°Borden has tricked me before, and I am loathe to fall for his tricks again. But I cannot ignore the sincerity of these two, which is NOT the same as agreeing with Borden¡¯s assumptions! So, come the morning, I will be sending two warriors I trust with you. They are going to report back to me next year with their observations of your village¡¯s attack this winter, and if they DON¡¯T return¡­then I have my answer anyways.¡± With that he leaves, still looking upset. Well we didn¡¯t get the NUMBER of warriors we wanted, but at least we MIGHT get them next winter. The trip back the next morning was surprisingly easy. We saw one the bears on the way down from the fork, but once it saw us it went scrambling up the sloped cliff to get away. Ok, maybe using the WHOLE bottle of licorice was a good idea¡­but I¡¯ll be damned before I tell Torden that! And with that, we make it back to Askfj?r just under two weeks after we left. *** Coming down from the mountains we can see an overview of much of the village, letting us see the changes so far. The log wall coming down from the northern mountains is almost complete, backed up by dirt mounds being made from the hills out front of it, moved one bucket at a time. It is running towards the last hill, which they have been digging a tunnel into, moving the dirt to the side where the wall is running UP from to meet together in the middle. The wall running northwest from the creek isn¡¯t more than a line of stakes, somebody having finished my work. Good progress¡­ might even be done in time at this rate. Asking around we find that Borden is over at the partly-finished wall, so the six of us go there to report to him. Seeing us approach he hands off his rope to somebody else to pull the log vertical, and comes to meet us, ¡°I hope these two are just the first of Jarl Vorn¡¯s forces, and the rest wil arrive later.¡± With an apologetic tone Torden answers after I remain silent, not wanting to catch flak, ¡°Sort of father. They are to observe this winter¡¯s attack and report back to¡­Vorn?...about it. He said he would send us warriors if their report is good. I¡¯m sorry father, but we failed.¡± Borden steps forward to grab Torden in a sweaty hug, ¡°No son, you returned healthy, that is NOT a failure. We just have to survive this winter, and the NEXT we will have the aid we need.¡± Releasing the now-relieved Torden, he looks at our guests, ¡°I¡¯ll find a place for you in the village, but you will have to work for your food here. Grab axes and help us cut back the woods, we could use your strong arms building the wall.¡± With an arm around each of their shoulders, he takes them to where the woodcutters are pumping iron sideways into their wooden opponents. Borden looks back at us as he moves away, ¡°You four relax for the day, you¡¯ve done good work.¡± This makes three of us relived, but Hidl gets a happy grin on his smooth face, before tearing off to his parent¡¯s home, I guess. Kid has WAY too much energy; he¡¯s like a two-legged Chihuahua . Torden and I walked towards the Jarl¡¯s fortress, but while he went to play around with his hunting dogs, I stopped off at Venradik¡¯s house. Aedirboa was off playing midwife. Thanks to my knowledge about using boiled water to disinfect herself and her patients, to prevent infection, the child survival rate has skyrocketed these past few years. As a result, her services as midwife has become the default, leaving the old women who used to perform that duty jealous; and too stubborn to change their practices, so nobody wants their services. Would YOU want your child to have five times the chance of death, AND the mother, or bite your tongue and let an ¡°unlucky¡± CHILD deliver it? At least it has more-or-less put an end to that whole jinx-like rumor that has been hounding her since she came to Askf?r. Once alone in Venradik¡¯s home, I pull up my character sheet to go over how I should progress when I get more skill points, since I expect to finish my 1st Hit Die when I turn 16 this midwinter. I¡¯m expecting to get 20 of them, 2 for the base amount, plus another 2 for high Intelligence, plus another 1 for being Human; all before multiplying by 4. And since I have the ¡°Skillful¡± trait this Hit Die, I can put them ANYWHERE¡­that I can ¡°justify¡±. NAME: Laughash RACE: Human SUBRACE: Primitive This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it AGE: 15.2 years HIT DIE: 1(3/4) ECL: 3/4 SIZE: Medium SPEED: 30 ft. ERA: Bronze-Age (Primitive, use one Era lower) ABILITY SCORES: Cha 16, Wis 12, Int 15, Dex 13, Con 10, Str 8 DURABILITY: 0 (due to Small size) SAVING THROWS: Fort ¨C1 (0), Ref +3 (0), Will +5 (2). +2 vs. Fear. SPECIAL ABILITIES * Trickery Domain spells: 2 per day. ATTACK: Base Attack Bonus +0, Melee ¨C1, Ranged +1. SKILLS (¨C3 to Social skills from Primitive): * Charisma-Linked (+3) * * (CbF) Bluff +4 (4 ranks) [¨C3 Social] * * Diplomacy +5 (0 ranks) [+2 from Court Raised] * * (CbF) Disguise * * (P) Use Mystic Device +4 (1 rank) * Wisdom-Linked (+1) * * Heal +3 (2 ranks) * * Sense Motive +3 (0 ranks) [+2 from Court Raised] * * Spot +2 (1 rank) * * (P) Survival +4 (2 ranks) [+2 from Primitive] * Intelligence-Linked (+2) * * (P) Alchemy +6 (4 ranks) * * (P) Craft (medicine) +3 (1 rank) * * (P) Craft (weaponsmith) +6 (4 ranks) * * Knowledge (arcana) +6 (4 ranks) * * Knowledge (nature) +5 (3 ranks) * * Knowledge (nobility & royalty) +4 (0 ranks) [+2 from Court Raised] * * Spellcraft +4 (3 ranks) * Dexterity-Linked (+1) * * (CbF) Hide +3 (2 ranks) * Constitution-Linked (+0) [¨C2 from Court Raised] * * Concentration +1 (3 ranks) * * (P) Control Shape * Strength-Linked (¨C1) [¨C2 from Court Raised] * * (P) Climb * Linguistics +2 (2 ranks) * Tales & Legends +3 (1 trait) FEATS (Simple Weapon Proficiency, Firearms Proficiency, +Saber): * HD 1: Court Raised * Human: Chosen by Fate (Trickery) TRAITS (Mystical Hero): * Favored: Skillful ¡Á1 * HD 1: Eldritch Soul ¡Á1 * HD 1: Wildman ¡Á1 * HD 1: Loremaster ¡Á1 SPELLCASTING: * Chosen by Fate CL 1 (+2), Max SL 0th. * * 0th: summon weapon Summon Weapon (Conj): Creates a non-magical mundane weapon you are familiar with. [Summon] * Eldritch Soul CL 1 (+2), Max SL 1st. Spell Level Pool Points: 17 (0th-Level are free) * * 0th: acid splash, detect magic, prestidigitation; 1st: color spray, mage armor Acid Splash (Evoc): Orb deals 1d3 (+6 Breaking the Limits) damage [to Con]. [Acid] Color Spray (Ill): Knocks unconscious, blinds, and/or stuns 1d6 (+5 Breaking the Limits) weak creatures [Material Consumed (colored red, yellow, and blue sand or powder)]. [Mind-Affecting; DC 14 Will save] Detect Magic (Div): Detects spells and magic items within 60 ft. (+6 Knowledge:arcana and Spellcraft checks Breaking the Limits) Mage Armor (Conj): Gives subject +4 (+6 Breaking the Limits) armor bonus [Focus Needed (piece of cured leather)]. [Force] Prestidigitation (Universal): Performs minor tricks. (+7 to relevant skill checks Breaking the Limits). SPECIAL ABILITIES: * Advantage: Breaking the Limits (Eldritch Soul) [Charisma score ¨C10 ¨CSpell Level to spell effects] * Extra skill points I can¡¯t remember the synergy table from The Harrowed Earth core rule book (it has been a DECADE, sue me), and unfortunately the descriptions given by the character sheet doesn¡¯t provide access to them, but that is not the same as being unable to remember ANYTHING. I remember from playing Herr Grey that the skill ¡°Bluff¡± gives a LOT of bonuses to other skills, and that ¡°Use Mystic Device¡± can give bonuses to charged items¡­as well as my being able to access the ¡°Anchored¡± spells in items Venradik makes. An ability I used to good effect when Borden was injured, so I want to keep up on that one to make it more reliable. Then there is making my OWN ¡°Anchored¡± items with various ¡°Craft¡± skills and ¡°Spellcraft¡±, I need to get more varied Craft skills and improve my Spellcraft, so that I have a wider selection of options for making Anchored spell items. I want to increase my general-utility skills as well, higher ¡°Spot¡± so I can throw spells further accurately, ¡°Heal¡± for extra usefulness from using medicines, and so on. So I figure out that I should be spending my time with Freygi learning to sew and embroider, to get ¡°Craft (tailoring),¡± while rejoining Venradik and Aedirboa in the evenings for spellcasting lessons. We are still discussing how the elements of the character sheet mesh with reality, and deciding that the source of HIS odd magic probably comes from a mix of his innate drow spells and the ¡°Wildlands Spirit¡± feat (seems I was wrong about his using Spiritualism), when Aedirboa comes in exhausted from staying up all night with her patient. She perks up on seeing that I have returned, and hustles over to hug me. Veradik laughs and tells her, ¡°Go to sleep girl, before you pass out on Laughash¡¯s shoulder!¡± Groggily she stumbles to her bedroom nook in the back corner of the room, before shutting the leather curtain around it to undress and pass out. I excuse myself, and return to my own bedroom, intending to start my training regime in the morning. *** So that is how I spend the next couple months. Borden has the goatskins with the diagrams needed to complete the defenses, and I am too physically weak to help with the heavy labor needed (fucking noodle arms, Laughash just seems to be one of those guys who CANNOT keep muscle mass), so I manage to talk myself into the job of fixing and making clothes for those who CAN work. I might not be the most talented of seamstresses, but Freygi is doing it with me most of the morning, and she has a surprising amount of good advice on the subject. Badrik is still being an asshat, trying to prove his superiority over me since HE can work on the berm¡¯s bucket brigades while I am stuck doing ¡°women¡¯s work¡±. As a result I wind up having to spend much of my time sneaking around the house when he is home, trying to stay out of his sight, since I don¡¯t want him shoving handfuls of goat shit down my shirt¡­again. Seriously dude, that just means YOUR hands are going to be smelling like shit the whole day¡­how is THIS a practical joke?! Then spending the evenings with Venradik and Aedirboa, studying magic theory and making Anchored items. I manage to talk Freygi into letting me sleep at Venradik¡¯s place, ¡°To increase the amount of time I have for making medicines and talismans to protect us this winter.¡± Yeah, totally NOT to get away from Badrik¡¯s asshatery! Unfortunately, Badrik decides to spend some of his time out front of Venradik¡¯s place. I wind up taking my bedfurs outside to shake the bugs out of them (thanks asshole) every evening, and he keeps following Aedirboa around the woods when she is collecting magically-capable or medicinal plants and such. It annoys the hell out of her, but she puts up with his CONSTANT badmouthing of me and bragging, so that I can sew in peace. She¡¯s a damn good friend, I don¡¯t think I could tolerate him prattling at me day after day. And with that, the midsummer celebrations come around. By then the north/south wall is complete, as well as the archer¡¯s bunker-hill, and work has started on the wall running from the creek. It is going slower since it is further from the cut-back woods, losing much of our work-time just to transport costs. But this has freed up much of the woodcutting crew to start putting in pungi-stake pits on the killing field, so the overall work is proceeding apace. The two groups of villagers and the former tribesfolk all gather together for the three-day celebration of midsummer, with honey-baked bread treats, sweetmeats, and rich goat stews. Now that the pig-keeping project is bearing fruit, we even have pork chops and BACON! Freygi thinks I¡¯m insane, cutting a piece of bread in half then putting thick slices of wonderful pork goodness between then, with a slice of lettuce on top¡­until she tries it. Now we just need tomatoes! Overall the summer festivities are a good break from the pervasive dread of impending doom that has kept the village entrapped in it since winter, and everybody is having a great time. The hill that is at the border of the orchards and the village¡¯s farms, practically at the apex of the three components that form this settlement, is where Borden sets up the high table. This is where there is a giant bonfire at the base, with the ¡°royal family¡± at the top overseeing the whole thing, and the people are permitted to come talk with us about anything without fear of reprisal, according to tradition. Every now and again, as cries for it sweep the celebrants, one of us will speak up to address the petition. As a result of this Borden gives the status of manhood to Hidl and a few others, for their achievements. Freygi oversees a few weddings with the piests, taking the brides aside to give them advice, much to the chagrin of the prospective grooms. Torden gets into a few wrestling matches for bragging rights, and wins them all except the match with his father that people called for. Torden may be a big-ass 6-foot-plus brick shithouse, who is like a younger version of Borden, but his father has EXPERIENCE. Myself? Well people start singing ¡°We Will Stone You¡± (the translation STILL rubs me the wrong way), and a few other songs. Badrik winds up spending much of his time in private with a few village girls, and true to form, ruins the festivities on the last day. As the sun sets and the party starts to wind down, he stands up with a mug of mead, and drunkenly announces, ¡°Everybody pay heed, I intend to marry the healer Aedirboa once the walls are done, to celebrate both our survival and my own marital bliss!¡± Aedirboa, who is holding the dreadlocks (who would have guessed that that hair style was originally Vikings?) of a warrior that drank too much and is praying to the¡­pit in the ground at the side of the hill, looks up in confused astonishment. Standing up, her face quickly changing to pale outraged fury, she bellows out, ¡°Like HELL you are! I¡¯m marrying Laughash as soon as he gets off his ass and ASKS!¡± Then her face quickly turning beet red in embarrassment, she covers it with her hands and runs off into the village¡¯s fields. Oh¡­oh fuck¡­this is NOT good! Hey, waitaminute, since when does SHE fancy ME? We¡¯re not even 16, and she LOOKS 14¡­I¡¯m NOT marrying THIS young! I¡¯m already MARRIED to Pia, and I am NOT cheating on her!! I¡¯m obviously flabbergasted, when Borden slaps me on the back then grabs my shoulder, ¡°Go after her son, she¡¯s been burning THAT torch since you brought her here, don¡¯t let it burn out.¡± ¡°Father, I CAN¡¯T marry her, and you KNOW why. We are both too young as well, even if I DIDN¡¯T remember what I remember, and she¡¯s just enamored of me not in real LOVE,¡± I tell him, with my head close to his so we can hear each other over the sudden frenzied gossiping of everybody around us. ¡°No Laughash, you are clever as a god, but you know nothing of a maiden¡¯s heart. She has known you closely for years, and even shares some of your secrets, yet instead of driving her away this has only made her fonder of you. She MIGHT have once just had a little girl¡¯s fancy, but she has grown into a young woman with a woman¡¯s wants, and she WANTS YOU. Everybody knows this, and I mean EVERYBODY, but you it seems. Your memories are just that, memories, the world in them is not THIS one where you live. And who is to say how much time has passed since they happened; all the people in them that you remember caring for could be dust by now. Don¡¯t let ghosts in your mind prevent you from having a bit of happiness in your life, my son. Badrik can be a fool, obviously, but you would be a BIGGER fool if you left her to her heartache,¡± damn¡­I¡¯m a stereotypical fucking isekai protagonist aren¡¯t I? Dense as a fucking rock. With that, I get up and hustle down the hill into the half-moon-lit farm fields, passing a pissed-off Badrik on the way. At least there is THAT bit of good news¡­what is it called when you take pleasure in another¡¯s ill fortune, again? Well whatever it is, yeah THAT. I¡¯m stumbling around the wheat in the poor light, calling out to Aedirboa, when I hear a girl sobbing in the dark. Using prestidigitation to create a small candlelight, I find her sitting between two rows, crying into her hands, ¡°Boa, are you alright? We should head home before it gets too late, you don¡¯t want to sleep out here and end up with louses tomorrow, do you?¡± I chuckle saying that, trying to lighten the mood. ¡°Go AWAY Lou! I can¡¯t believe I SAID that¡­I¡¯m so EMBARASSED! I know you don¡¯t like me like that, but I like YOU, and I am so SO sorry I made such a scene!,¡± she says, wiping her tearing eyes on her sleeves. I sit down beside her, putting an arm around her shaking shoulders, ¡°Its fine Boa, I just have¡­to much in my mind¡­to think of ANYBODY that way. I never thought that you actually LIKED me like this, but if I was to marry ANYBODY it would be you, understand? We are just both too young, and too busy trying to survive these next couple of winters, to think about this stuff. So how about we just put this off and go back to how we were until we know we HAVE a future to worry about, sound good?¡± She pushes me away, ¡°NO Lou! I¡¯ve been delivering babies for wives younger than I am! People our age get married ALL the time, you know. Hell, your YOUNGER brother just made a public PROPOSAL to me! People just GOT married yesterday, THEY don¡¯t have to wait, so why should WE!¡± I stop reaching out for her, and look around to make sure we are alone, before turning back to her still-crying face to wipe away her tears. ¡° You have known that I have the ability to¡­see¡­how life works, ever since we met. And we have talked about it a lot, and even used my own insights to help YOU grow your own mind-magic. But there is still more you should know, to understand WHY I cannot marry you. I guess I must tell you something that only Borden knows, about WHERE this wisdom comes from, about¡­another LIFE that I remember.¡± And so I tell her about my life as Wayne Sigurdsson, in a world without magic, from a civilization thousands of years in the future. I tell her about cars, about airplanes, about computers, about guns, and about¡­Pia and Paul. I tell her about how I have been missing them ever since I woke up as Laughash, about how my heart still aches for the wife I loved and the son I was so proud of. And about the deal I made with some unknown cosmic power to keep them safe, from a fate worse than death. The deal that made me wake up AS Laughash in the first place, eternally separated from my family just to protect them. By the end she looks like she¡¯s seen a ghost, before she reaches out and pulls my head to her developing chest, shushing me and petting my head. Unexpectedly I start crying my heart out, involuntarily clutching at her as YEARS of pain and heartache let go, tearing out of me one bone-wracking sob at a time. ¡°I¡¯m here Lou, they are not, but wherever they are I KNOW they are alright. The elder gods might be unpredictable, but NONE of my father¡¯s stories of them said they don¡¯t keep their end of the deal,¡± she says, obviously trying to soothe my pain. I manage to hold in my tears long enough to ask, ¡° What do you mean?¡± She takes my face in her hands and pulls it back so I can see her in the pale moonlight, ¡°My father would tell me stories of the gods and the older god-like THINGS they keep away from the world. In all the tales of them, whenever somebody got their attention and cut a deal with them, they would hold up THEIR end of the pact¡­but ALWAYS would make sure that the mortal paid some unexpected price for it. I think that is why you have these memories; whatever force that offered to help you as you died on that ranch cast you into OUR world, ages BEFORE this Wayne person was born. There are some tales of them playing around with people¡¯s souls and time; I think that they played around with YOURS, too.¡± Huh¡­that fits disturbingly well¡­ I sit up and start wiping my own eyes clean, when she smacks me upside the back of the head, ¡°Venradik knows the same stories, we¡¯ve talked about them a lot while waiting to sleep late at night. If your dumb ass had told HIM about this past life of yours, he would have told you the SAME thing! You have been suffering for this life-yet-to-be without any NEED to, just because of your obsession with keeping your secrets, you stupid jerk!¡± And we laugh together, as I realize¡­she¡¯s right. Paul, Pia¡­I WILL find you, no matter how many years into the future I must travel to reach you! But whatever elder deity is responsible for this, you are NOT off the hook¡­my boot tips are STILL coming for those nads, you asshole! After nearly laughing ourselves sick, we get up and head to Venradik¡¯s hut, where he is waiting for us after having left the party early. Then, at Aedirboa¡¯s urging, I tell him what I told her about my past life as Wayne. After sitting down on his stool to listen to my tale deep into the night, while I am sitting next to the fire and Aedirboa has passed out in her furs, he leans forward with a serious look on his illusionary face, ¡°I¡¯m not an idiot¡­Wayne¡­I know the same stories as Aedirboa, and even MORE. I knew that you were hiding something more than your ¡®Ka-rac-tors-He-it¡¯ from me, and after thinking about it I realized that you were a reborn soul like in the stories. I figured out that you would tell me about this other life when you were ready.¡± He leans back with a thoughtful look on his face, staring up, ¡°BUT¡­I had no idea about this future-looking world your new soul came from. I figured that you were just a child that died early, and cut a deal to live longer. So you got tossed here to me, to satisfy my OWN deal to let Laughash¡¯s body live longer.¡± With a sigh, he looks me in the eyes, ¡°I¡¯m so sorry I treated you as a child for so long, my friend. However, it IS your OWN fault for not letting me know that you had an adult¡¯s soul inside you! ¡± Well then¡­guess being burned at the stake wasn¡¯t in the cards after all. ¡°Just tell nobody else about your past life, you came close talking about this to Borden. You could wind up being burned alive as a daemon possessing Laughash and bringing ill fortune, if they find out about your life as Wayne!¡± Ok, got it, getting BBQ¡¯d was a possibility after all, so I¡¯m staying OFF it! Standing up to go to bed, he helps me get off the ground since my legs fell asleep, then puts a hand on my shoulder, ¡°Now, when are you two getting married? I heard her declaration at the festival Laughash, and I know there is an empty house that could use filling¡­¡± Et tu, Venradik? ¡°Even IF Pia won¡¯t exist until thousands of years from now, we are BOTH too young to marry, Venradik. I know that getting hitched after fifteen, or even FOURteen, winters is the norm around here¡­but in my memories it was wrong to marry until at least EIGTHteen years of age, and I feel wrong about doing it any sooner!,¡± damn, lapsed into a bit of English¡­haven¡¯t done THAT in a while. ¡°Laughash, and you ARE Laughash now, your soul has almost 40 winters MORE than the 15 of your body, and Aedirboa¡¯s elven father makes HER age SLOWER than a human. If she looks 14 winters old, she is probably CLOSER to 18! Also, half-elves like her rarely develop physically beyond the stature of a human around 15 winters, unless they take more after their human parent. But from the look of her she takes after her elven father. Now, if you DON¡¯T marry such a sweet girl, if you break the heart of a child I have come to think of as my daughter, I WILL make your life miserable,¡± the hand on my shoulder grips TIGHT into my trapezius muscle. Leaning forward as I wince, until we are practically nose-to-nose, he lets his illusionary appearance drop for the first time in years and I am left staring into his blood-red eyes, ¡°Do you UNDERSTAND me boy?¡± Shit¡­I forgot that even with my nearly half-century of experience, THIS guy is still CENTURIES older than me¡­and has a ruthless streak from how HE grew up, ¡°Yes I do. I¡¯ll formally ask for her hand tomorrow, I promise!¡± I¡¯ve seen him make an abusive husband¡¯s dick shrivel up and fall off with his potions, don¡¯t blame ME for not wanting that to happen to my OWN piss-stick! And that is how, a few days later, I married Aedirboa and moved into my own home with her. Freygi spent the days leading up to the marriage with Aedirboa, cleaning out the house and having ¡°wife talk¡± with her, leaving Aedirboa red-faced and embarrassed whenever I see the two of them chatting. Likewise Borden has a frank talk with me about a husband¡¯s duties and rights, which are pretty savage and frank, but oddly kind as well. Huh, if American women were like THIS, feminism would be dead and people would be HAPPY! Most of it is just the kind of life I lived with Pia, anyways, so I¡¯m not surprised. Badrik, in the meantime, spends his days walking around like a living storm cloud, ruining the atmosphere of any room he enters. Borden tries to talk to him, only to get blown off as he storms away in a huff, and tells me later, ¡°He should have TALKED to her about marriage, to see if SHE was interested, before making such a public statement. I¡¯m sad he is suffering, but he brought it on himself, so don¡¯t let it ruin YOUR happiness Laughash.¡± I agree with Borden, and decide to put Badrik out of my mind. At least once I am living with Aedirboa across the farm fields; I won¡¯t have to worry about Badrik¡¯s ¡°pranks¡±. Torden, in the meantime, shows an unexpected talent at carpentry. He spent two days making a bed for us, so we don¡¯t have to sleep on the bed in which the house¡¯s elderly prior owners died this past winter. There is some sort of superstition about that. Then he promised to deliver new chairs and a table for after our honeymoon. Which, it turns out, means the village puts us up for a month of drunken mead-fueled marital bliss. Since mead is MADE with fermented HONEY, and it lasts a full lunar cycle, it is called a ¡°honey moon¡±. I never knew that was a Viking thing. Come noon the two of us are in our fanciest clothes, standing in the northern part of the pungi-staked field, so that half the entire damn place has room to watch and cheer us on by using the orchard hills as natural bleachers. I¡¯m sweating like a pig at a BBQ, despite the cool spring wind, and I¡¯m not afraid to admit I¡¯m a walking bundle of nerves. Across the way I can see Aedirboa with Venradik, and Sikan standing in front of the arch of flowering branches between us with a barely-concealed look of apathy. ¡°Borden, father, I am¡­scared. I haven¡¯t been this frightened ever before, even when fighting that troll,¡± or handling shipments of high explosives on a battleship! Standing on one side of me with Freygi on the other, Borden puts a hand on my shoulder as he tells me, ¡°Laughash my son, let me share with you a secret of my own. You are not the ONLY man to lose his water when standing before his bride-to-be. I¡¯ve been married TWICE, and the second was just as terrifying as the first!¡± ¡°That explains that smell on our wedding night,¡± Freygi jokes with a chuckle. Then the drum starts thumping, and I am walking towards Sikan while Aedirboa starts down the other side to meet me. Her face smiling brightly, but her eyes showing the fear she is also trying to hide. Guess I¡¯m not the only one scarred of the future. That is¡­oddly comforting. A few minutes later, after a short ceremony and some oaths, our forearms are tied together with a ribbon of colored goat-hair cloth; and we are married. Then promptly carried to our home bodily by a cheering crowd, as the loose binding slips from our arms, and I am pushed stumbling into the front door of our small 3-room home. As I come to a halt and stand up straight, I¡¯m almost pitched face-first into the ground by Aedirboa being shoved in behind me, before the door is slammed shut and I hear things being piled in front of the door. Borden¡¯s loud voice hollers out, ¡°We¡¯ll let you out tomorrow morning, so you two can¡¯t run! Have fun until then, the mead is in your bedroom! ¡± Our well-wishers laugh with him as they all clear out, giving us our privacy. Nervously Aedirboa and I don¡¯t-quite-look at each other, before she stands up stiff and straight, almost daring me to me her eyes, ¡°You have been married BEFORE Lou, I think you are more confident in what comes next than I am!¡± This twigs my member-berries, and I stop being so nervous as I laugh at myself, then meet her eyes, ¡°Boa dear, you KNOW I care about you, but I CANNOT forget what I¡­used to have. I¡¯m not afraid that I cannot PERFORM tonight, I¡¯m afraid I will DISSAPOINT you, by not being able to return the amount of love you have for me.¡± ¡°My love, I know your heart, both the one here,¡± she says, stepping forward to place a hand on my chest, ¡°and the one here,¡± she reaches up with her other hand, to run her fingers through my backswept braided hair. ¡°I don¡¯t want EVERYTHING you have to give; I just want to be a PART of it, of you, and you of me.¡± Then stepping up on her toes, she kisses me and I take her in my arms, feeling myself more Laughash than Wayne in that moment. I won¡¯t bore you with what happened next, nor titillate you with what happened for the following four weeks. It is only between her and I, and I¡¯m deeply sorry if this hurts you, should it be Paul or Pia reading this. All I can say is that what I have with Aedirboa is, in my heart, an extension or addition to my life with Pia. My love for one in no way hinders my love for the other. Yeah, I said ¡°love¡±, I can admit it now some weeks later¡­I LOVE Aedirboa too. We spend the ¡°honey moon¡± doing honeymoon things, leaving the home only for necessities, and I spot Torden hustling people away from our home occasionally. Evidently he has taken up the roll of bouncer . Instead of the usual pillow talk, I open my character sheet, and read her what I have written there. Which at times earns me a couple solid sock in the chest, comments about how stupid I can be for somebody so clever, or a full-on bending-over stomach-clenching belly laugh. In the process I even teaching her some English, and singing some of the same songs that I sung while trekking to Valdi. Turns out she¡¯s a fan of anything she can sing along to, She has a great singing voice . I think¡­I think I am HAPPY!? *** Once our honey moon is over, we emerge from our home like a caterpillar coming out a butterfly. Only to be hit by a windshield . Not to put too much HBO on it, but ¡°winter is coming,¡± and with it the enemy assault. And now I have something PRECIOUS to protect, something ELSE that I cannot leave to a fate worse than death. I¡¯m practically hyperventilating as Aedirboa is sleeping in, not even noticing Borden¡¯s thunderous footsteps before he slams an arm across my shoulders, ¡°Welcome to married life my son¡­um, again I guess. We have LOTS to do, and much of it needs YOUR eyes! Now come with me, let us go look at these ¡®bunkers¡¯ and the ¡®puhn-gee-pits¡¯, and see if there is anything that needs doing.¡± So I spend the day inspecting the progress so far, noticing several things that we forgot to go over when drawing on the goat skins. The pungi-pits need the branches on the covers half-broken in the middle, so they will collapse completely when stepped on. The smoked meats in the bunkers need to be coated in a layer of honey and re-wrapped in leather, before I use prestidigitation to seal them bug-tight. The bunker doors need to be flipped around to open INWARDS, so that they can be barred from inside. Those kinds of things. As the sun gets low, Borden joins Aedirboa and I in our home to go over the war plans. Which thrills her no end, I guess it¡¯s a bragging point that the local king is her first houseguest, ¡°Son, is there anything you can think of to add to our defense in those strange otherworldly memories of yours?¡± Thankfully, Aedirboa knows that Borden believes that it was Laughash who inherited a bunch of memories of a random man from Earth, and not Wayne that has grown up AS Laughash. ¡°I heard him tell tales of waters that burn like fire, and dust that creates thunder when touched by fire, what about those husband?,¡± she asks, as she passes a wooden mug of leftover mead to Borden before joining us at the table. ¡°I think I could figure out HOW to make those, using what we have here, but I am not SURE about it or how long it would take. Not to mention I have no idea how much I could MAKE before the first snows come. It is probably best to save those until we defeat the first attack, then I can use the rest of winter to puzzle through making one or the other,¡± I lean back in my newly Torden?-brand chair, thankfully made MUCH better than Borden¡¯s throne. As I look upwards to help think I can see my erstwhile-father actually look at the chair with JEALOUSY in his eyes . ¡°What about a device that can hurl a spear further than any man, with the strength of an ogre?,¡± I ask, a bright idea in my mind from a documentary I watched with dad, about siege warfare through the ages. We already know HOW to make spears, so¡­scorpions? Borden¡¯s jealous look turns to the near-lust of a professional warrior being offered a new toy. Yep, I¡¯ve seen that on a LOT of faces, back when I was kiting out SEAL missions¡­I know that look well, heh. ¡°Speak on son; is this something we might be able to take on campaign into the northern mountains, perhaps? Say¡­to visit some giants?¡± Laughing I let my chair¡¯s front legs slap to the ground, as I run into the spare room that Aedirboa and I share as a workshop. Grabbing a piece of scratch goat leather and a stick of charcoal wrapped in a piece of split wood, the closest to a pencil I could fashion, I draw a makeshift diagram for Borden. ¡°Sorry but even with the wheels, this thing is going to weigh as much as two fully-armed warriors, and is wider than both. There is no way we could get it up those mountain trails, and even if we COULD it only works in a long straight line. With THIS distance is our ally, since it takes a long time to ready for each shot.¡± I give Borden a feral grin as his face falls, leaning over conspiratorially, ¡°BUT¡­it can fire as far as the entire width of the village, AND with enough strength to go THROUGH one enemy into ANOTHER¡­or even more than two¡­¡± I see his eyes light up, sharing the same glimmer as mine, at the thought of a new way of delivering a good old-fashioned does of American Freedom? to the bad guys. If only I could have gotten muskets or something working, but metallurgy in this place is FAR too poor to handle it. Well, at least for NOW. ¡°I¡¯m going to bed, you two keep the cackling to a minim please, so I can sleep,¡± Aedirboa says with overblown exasperation, seemingly just happy that the two of us have found something to fanboy over. Damn, sometimes she reminds me OF Pia¡­ummm¡­I better not tell her that. Note to self: leave this thought OUT of any recitations I tell her . Borden leaves to go home a couple hours later, after we have run my supply of goatskins dry with diagrams and maps. If (IF!) we can get these working, we plan on putting them on towers before and after the farmlands, so they can shoot into the killing ground OVER our warriors, as well as cover one another should the enemy make it through to them. No sense having a glass cannon or, uhm¡­scorpions? The next morning I kiss Aedirboa goodbye for the day, and go to meet up with Borden with a piece of fried bacon in my mouth. She has to go take care of some of the hunters who were injured when a log rolled into them while we were on our honeymoon, so Venradik can get back to making his medicines. Meanwhile Borden and I are going to the village¡¯s carpentry shop, meeting Torden there where he has become obsessed with his new hobby. In an age without power tools, a guy who can practically JUGGLE logs is almost as good, I guess. So with the diagrams in hand, the two of us get the carpenters to stop making chairs and buckets, and start working on an all-wood scorpion. Well¡­NEARLY all-wood, since the clasp has to be made by the smithy, and the usual linguistic impediments winds up referring to them as ¡°Sk?rpn¡±¡­looks like Borden wasn¡¯t the only one who couldn¡¯t pronounce it correctly. However he IS the Jarl, so now ¡°correctly¡± is how HE says it! I guess ¡°Sk?rpn¡± is going to be sticking. Unlike the near-fistfight that it takes to get the carpenters on-side with the project, the smithy goes smoothly. Ever since helping me make Laevateinn, the village blacksmith has had a fearful near-reverence of me, which disturbs Borden when he almost ignores him on seeing me. So when I show him the diagrams of the clasp, shaping some of his clay with prestidigitation to the needed shapes, he happily sets aside the woodsman axe he was working on to start the project. Or maybe it went so easy because Torden wasn¡¯t there to be a contrarian, when his father butted in on his newly-found talent? Who knows. It takes a few days to get the prototype working, and I have to redo the molds for the clasp because the carpenters made the spear groove too wide, but we get it at least LOOKING right. Instead of rolling it on wheels, we all grab it and carry it out to the hills behind the farmlands, Borden hollering out to everybody to get out of the fields for a while. Well I say ¡°we¡± carry it, but in all honestly it is mostly Borden, Torden, and the blacksmith¡­I¡¯m stuck just carrying a pair of test-firing spears. Setting it up on a couple logs, so we can adjust the elevation, they wind back the cocking wheel and engage the clasp. It holds tension, so¡­first step achieved. Putting the spear in the groove, everybody steps back and looks at me. ¡°It¡¯s YOUR toy brother, YOU play with it!,¡± Torden says, grinning. I pull the damn lever, not showing ANY of the fear I feel, out of pride and stubborn one-ups-man-ship with Torden. With a the wooden bow-arms straighten out, pulling the rope taunt, and the cup in the middle HURLS the spear¡­about 20 degrees off to the right. But at least it imbeds itself halfway into the hillside it hits, nearly impaling one of the village¡¯s dogs as it runs away with a . ¡°Well¡­it has POWER, but we need to work on the AIM,¡± Borden says, laughing. I¡¯m just standing there, embarrassed as hell, because I forgot something¡­the blinder-like guides on the FRONT of the damn thing. ¡°Torden, get the men working on putting up watch towers around the fields. Use this map of the area so they know where to put them. WE will work on solving this aiming problem, and then lift them into place atop each tower with ropes. Laughash, join me in the carpentry¡­we need to solve this.¡± And that is how we ended up with a 20 foot tall tower at the edge of the hills and the original village, each side of the tribe¡¯s hut/houses, with a scorpion and stacks of spears atop them. In the back-side of the fields we put another two identical towers, each atop a rise in the hills leading up the mountainside, so they can see OVER their fellows and fire into the killing ground BETWEEN them. Anything that gets INTO the farming fields, would be caught in a crossfire of all four towers, and slaughtered. Plus, below the covered platform that the ¡°Sk?rpn¡± is on, is another platform that can fit half a dozen men with shortbows. There to keep the enemy away from the tower itself. The ladders that let men climb the towers have ropes on their bottom rung, and sliders around their lengths, so that they can be cranked UP out of reach after they are manned. I think we are as ready as we are going to get. Now we just need targets¡­ *** The first snows start to fall a few weeks later. Except for the warriors on the bunker-hills watching for enemies, with their log drums, the REST of the village turns out to bring in the last of the fruit from the orchard and the summer crops. As a field is cleared others come behind us, planting turnips and lettuce seeds, to grow over the winter. It¡¯s almost like crop rotation. Wheat growing in the spring, bulbs and nitrogen-fixers in the winter. The only ones not helping with the harvest are Venradik and Aedirboa, who are working to collect their herbs and other summer plants, since the things they need DON¡¯T grow except in the hotter months. It is as we are halfway through the harvest that the first attacks start. Over-eager, the guards pound the drums when the first group attacks, but not even a dozen enemies lay dead from their arrows by the time the rest of us get everything ready. Exasperated at half a day¡¯s lost labor in the fields, Borden and I put our heads together and come up with a code alarm for the drums. One beat, pause, one beat, pause, repeating for a handful or so enemies. Two beats between pauses for around ten. Three beats between pauses for over a dozen, at which point the warriors that live near the bunkers are to join the guards in case they make it to the bunker-hills. Four beats between pauses is over two dozen, at which point we FULLY mobilize for war! When Borden drops the dead carcass of a gnoll in front of the two warriors from J¨¢rn, as they and I come down from our posting in one of the rear-most towers as archers, they laugh at him, ¡°Jarl Borden, ONE wolf-man does not a war make!¡± Picking the carcass up by the back of the neck, Borden shoves it in their faces, ¡°Like rats, ONE now means MORE later¡­don¡¯t think THIS is the end of what we face.¡± He then tosses the carcass at their feet, splattering them in the thing¡¯s blood, like a mic drop. Then turns and walks away with royal dignity. Damn, this guy would make Patton take notes! What is it about this primitive world that makes people like Borden and his family, Venradik and Aedirboa, and the rest? I¡¯ve yet to encounter NEARLY as many useless navel-gazing assholes as I did every day back on Earth! Is it because the weak die off, or are they just a stronger breed in general? Hopefully we survive the winter, so I can puzzle this out in my spare time while falling asleep with Aedirboa in my arms. Over the next couple weeks we get quite a few more attacks, sometimes with a day between them, but mostly every day. Most of the attacks are under a dozen, but one of them was over a dozen, and two of the enemy made it back to the denuded edge of the forest, Damn¡­they are able to report back. Then the BIG hit comes in the mid-morning, after another couple minor probes. I¡¯m entertaining a group of children, using prestidigitation to make illusions of birds and pull things out from behind ears, when I hear the first of the log drum. All of us stop, ears pricked up to listen, the children¡¯s smiles dropping from their faces, as the next three s occur¡­four in a row, then pause, then¡­yep, four more. ¡°YOU!,¡± I say pointing at the oldest child. ¡°Get the rest of you into the winter storehouse, DO NOT go home first, your parents KNOW you are to be at the storehouse!,¡± I tell him, before running to get to my own post atop a back tower, furthest from the attack. From the back I can see the entire village, and even over the wall to see the field outside of it thanks to my much greater elevation. My ¡°Spot¡± skill, however, is not high enough to pick out any useful details¡­a disability I overcome by taking a roll of leather and using prestidigitation to mimic optical lensing so I have an impromptu telescope. Got to love the check bonus I get from having ¡°Breaking the Limits¡±¡­I couldn¡¯t do HALF the shit I get away with if I didn¡¯t! I am the last one up, letting the three warriors on the Sk?rpn deck pull the ladder up behind me. ¡°Why are you, with your twig-like arms, on the archers¡¯ deck?,¡± I hear you asking, across time and space, and in English too. Well there are TWO very good reasons, and they are BOTH the warriors from J¨¢rn. We are JUST high enough that my color spray and acid splash can reach foes below us, allowing me to help defend the tower if the enemy gets this close. Plus, I can use the same pseudo-telescope trick to help THEM see the battle as it is going on, and talk up the danger to their village should we fall. Basically, I¡¯m here to bullshit them into telling Jarl Vorn to mobilize his warriors for our defence next winter. We see the enemy coming from the woods in waves, like a tide coming in, and can hear their thundering mix of howls and barks. They are running FAST, faster than we could cover the same ground, but the wolves in their group charge in even FASTER. As they see the wall coming south from the northern mountains, most of the tide of wolves sweep south towards the wide gap between the two walls, only a few climbing the foothills to try and get behind it. Those few are quickly hacked apart by the force of warriors Borden placed there, to sweep around and ¡°plug¡± the hole once the entire enemy is in the killing ground. I hope nobody got hurt too bad there, since I¡¯m stuck here and both Aedirboa and Venradik are in the Jarl¡¯s fortress for safety. Then the flood of wolves hits the entrance to the killing ground, the archers atop the bunker-hills picking them off with arrows. Coming around the edge they are trapped between the steep-sided hills, with the stakes in them pointed downwards to keep the wolves from climbing. It doesn¡¯t stop some of them from trying, only to be either caught on the stakes, or peppered to death with arrows from the archers on each hill firing into the others¡¯ hillside. Most of the wolves (and DOGS?!) flow between the hills, obsessed with getting into the town proper and tearing into people, only to hit the pungi-pits and being trapped to bleed to death. THIS slows the tide, the sudden death-wails of the dying trapped canines causing the ones behind them to slow down, and more cautiously creep through the killing field. This is when the forward-most Sk?rpns open fire, their powerful low-angled spears impaling wolves up to three at a time, in the back near the opening. This makes the rest that have not entered the area yet break, having killed two thirds or so of the wolves, they run into the woods in terror. But the two-legged enemy¡­keeps coming. Oh, THAT is what I forgot about gnolls! They use their canine allies/slaves as disposable fire-and-forget weapons¡­they don¡¯t CARE if they are killed, so long as it makes the gnolls¡¯ assault EASIER. With most if not ALL the pungi-pits revealed by their canine Polish-mine-detectors, the gnolls start to flow into the killing ground nearly untouched. Only an occasional archer from the bunker shooting at them, but nowhere near enough to break them¡­as planned. Some of the gnolls stop at each hill, hurling javelins upwards into the archers. We see a few of them hit, and I notice one falling after being impaled THROUGH the gut, so the archers do as planned. They grab their wounded and hustle down the sloped-side near the walls, using the thicker ¡°lip¡± side to keep the entrance clear enough to get inside the bunkers and bar the doors¡­I hope. It isn¡¯t like I can see THROUGH the same earthwork extrusion, to see if they make it inside before the gnolls work their way around to the bunker doors. Then, reloaded and aimed, the Sk?rpn towers start in on the gnolls near the clumped-together bunkers, and they start dying by the dozen every minute. This attracts their attention, and the wave of furred evil starts swarming towards the towers, across the killing field into the tribe¡¯s huts. As they get within range, I hear our Sk?rpn as it starts to fire into the enemy¡¯s ranks. This draws most of the enemy force into the tribe¡¯s huts, using them for cover. I¡¯m so sorry about this¡­but it was the most EVIL tactic I could think of, and Borden signed off on it¡­ Then the archers on the forward towers start shooting arrows wrapped in flaming oil-soaked rags into the huts in the back and front. Almost instantly catching them on fire, since the tribesmen threw flasks of lamp oil onto them once they heard the four s of the alarm drums. I hope we have enough room to get everybody through the winter, with the tribes¡¯ homes gone. The enemy starts to panic, half of their force not trapped in the fires that creep from the edges inward, sparks flying from the lit homes to the ones not yet aflame. As they cry their howls into the sky, dying in droves, some of them manage to make it out into the farm fields where they are riddled with arrows and Sk?rpn spears from the rear towers. Unfortunately, their flaming hides still light some of the newly-planted fields alight. Thankfully they have not grown much to speak of, so at least little is lost. The same cannot be said of the orchards, as many of the enemy ran north into the hills of that area, and light many of the houses, bushes, and trees on fire. I guess we are not the ONLY ones to be feeling our inner pyromaniacs! The remainder of the enemy force is mostly in the killing ground, being peppered by Sk?rpn spears from the closest two towers, and occasionally being killed in twos and threes by one from our back row that falls onto their midst from above. With the wall to their southwest, the flaming hell to their east, and the houses on the hills to the north where random arrows are falling, they have no place to go. Except back out the way they came, the ones in back realize, as they turn to flee¡­only to run smack into the forward elements of the warriors that had been marching down from the northern divot in the wall ever since they spotted that the main group was entering the settlement. With swordsmen bearing shields in the front, and archers behind shooting over them, the increasingly larger portion of our panicking enemy is thinned and staggered¡­and eventually slaughtered wholesale. I think I spot Torden¡¯s flaming red head of dreadlocks in the front, ¡°Mister Slammy¡± crushing and throwing back foes, and if it was him then I can IMAGINE the giant grin on his face! Unfortunately, many of the swordsmen falling to the blades or their javelins of our foes, some of which overshoot the front ranks and strike the archers. Hopefully Torden isn¡¯t one of them, but I think Fjodr will protect him as much as he can. It looks touch-and-go once the main enemy force routed, and we have to stop firing Sk?rpns for fear of hitting our own people in the increasingly messy melee. The drums set up atop the watch platform over the entrance to the Jarl¡¯s fortress beats, Borden smacking it with a staccato one, pause, two, repeat rhythm. Looks like it is time for the finishing move. As the sound of the signal echoes off the mountains behind us, the archers using the orchard hills and houses for cover drop their bows and arm themselves with the shields and nail-covered baseball bats on their backs. Then, forming up into groups of ten atop the hills closest to the killing ground, they charge into the enemy flank and rear, each as soon as it can. No way to be any more organized than this, we don¡¯t have radios or anything, but hopefully the force of surprise lets them get into it in enough numbers to keep themselves from being wiped out. As the hammer of the orchard¡¯s semi-elders and young teen men slams into to enemy over and over again with their swinging ¡°negans¡±, adding to their battle line with each ten-man blow, the anvil of the forces in the breach wind down their archers to avoid friendly fire. Instead they pull out the wounded, and replacing them with these relatively-fresh swordsmen. I say ¡°swordsmen¡± only because MOST of them are wielding double-sided longswords, but many are also using large-bladed or long-handled axes, and some like Torden are wielding warhammers. I got to remember to make note of this when I write the events of today up. Now you know. Unfortunately, we don¡¯t get them all. Some of the enemy climbs into the creek bed, taking advantage of the gap between the mountain¡¯s cliffs and the wall that we had to leave to prevent filling the pit in front of the wooden wall, to swim to safety. Well, MOSTLY they just drown as their arms¡¯ weight makes them too heavy in the freezing water, with only about 1 in every 3 or 4 attempting escape by that route making it, for around a dozen escapees. But those that DO climb out of the creek past our own battle line, have to drop all their gear but their armor in the water, so they run into the woods laughably looking like soggy dogs. If we had some archers in reserve they could be picked off, but everybody we HAVE is needed to mop up the remaining hundred or so in the killing ground. As the sun creeps past noon, the final wolf-like humanoid falls, and a ragged breathless cheer goes up from all our fighters. This draws the women, children, and other noncombatants that couldn¡¯t make it into a thick-walled storehouses down from the foothills in the east and north of the village, to celebrate their loved ones surviving¡­but some to mourn their losses. But as the walking wounded gather at the near-empty winter storehouse to be tended by Venradik, or the meat-smoking house in the orchard for Aedirboa to patch up, the remaining relatively-untouched warriors gather their dead as well as carry out those who cannot walk. Even as the dying continues, from people too injured to save or too late to a healer, I¡¯m walking through the ranks with a bag of bandages and medical goods, to try and save whom I can. Once the sun starts to dip into night, and the dead are counted, all those left come to the same realization. Holy fuck¡­we ARE going to survive this winter! CHAPTER 7: Here Were Giants ¡°War¡­War Never Changes,¡± hello and welcome back to the Lone Voice Radio Podcast, I¡¯m your exhausted host Mr. Mann, and I apologize for being nearly two hours late with today¡¯s broadcast. I am reporting on the latest offensive by the Chinese forces into the panhandle, from the forward command post of the Texas Guard, and frankly¡­it¡¯s a little hard to be heard when bombs are dropping on your roof. It looked like this new strategy of theirs, staggering artillery fire ahead of an infantry march on Amarillo, was going to work, with our brave patriots unable to gather to push back the creeping red tide thanks to the artillery bombardment. However, it seems like god STILL loves Texas, since as the communist hoard hit Pampa the faint clouds thickened¡­and in the span of less than an hour formed into a full-on LIGHNING storm! Despite a weather forecast that predicted clear skies for a week¡­summer, am-I-right?. NEITHER side expected this! So there were the invaders, marching with giant 20-foot-long lightning rods, filled with high explosives¡­heh heh heh. It¡¯s still true to this day: God Bless Texas! INTERRUPTION, DEEP MECHANICAL VOICE: Sure, why not? Just don¡¯t RELY on it. I¡¯m busy most of the time. Wait, who the FUCK was THAT?! Over the next few days the villagers strip the dead gnolls, and move their corpses to the flatland south of the creek, halfway down to the tree line. A few gnolls sneak out to get the bodies, only to be picked off by archers stationed nearby to keep watch for scavengers, during the day. Since they have to go inside at night, the gnolls decide to just grab them then. Damn, I wish we had enough poison to dose those corpses, but no luck¡­another missed opportunity. In addition to all the bronze swords and javelins, many of them were carrying loot from all the settlements that they had raided¡­and probably none too few travelers too. Most of it falls into the category of ¡°shiny shit¡± such as gems and decorated cups, now filthy with years of grime, but still useful for the priests to make potions and such. There are even small bars of copper, silver, and gold. I guess coinage isn¡¯t a thing yet. But my familiarity with playing The Harrowed Earth inspires me to convince Borden to allow my inspection of all the loot¡­and a good thing too. Once I identify the magical items, with Venradik¡¯s help, we figure out what they are. And it¡¯s not a bad haul! * One of the wide-bladed bronze swords has a +1 enhancement bonus, which Borden gives to Fjodr so that he can better protect Torden in battle. * Three of the javelins are also enchanted with a +1 enhancement bonus, which Borden keeps as a decoration behind his throne to impress visitors. No judgment here. * Two of the gems actually contain psionic enchantments, one of spiritual weapon and the other of lesser restoration. Both useful items for a fighter, but since she¡¯s the only dedicated psychic in the village both are given to Aedirboa¡­who literally with joy and begs me to make a necklace of them for her. Sorry Venradik, but your psychic wound-stitching just isn¡¯t enough. * A belt of giant¡¯s strength, which makes Borden¡¯s face droop, as he hands it to Torden since he refuses to be anywhere but on the front line¡­and Borden wants to make SURE he survives. He¡¯s a good dad. * Finally, a periapt of Wisdom +4! We know because I put it on and check my character sheet to see how potent the bonus is, Character sheet cheat for the win. Sikan and the other priests, on finding out that it will make their spellcasting more potent; literally get into a fist-fight over it! Pissed at them acting so childish, F¨¹rda snatches it from my hands and tosses it into Borden¡¯s chest, ¡°Maybe this will make you a BETTER Jarl, instead of laughing as your priests fight!¡± With a final guffaw, Borden puts it on, and makes sure to wear it visibly as he fingers it whenever he has to deal with any of the priests. I think he¡¯s having WAY too much fun teasing them . Yeah, I end up with jack and shit, and Jack left town. So I decide to re-start the ¡°BIG bada-BOOM¡± project now that I have more bronze, and in private ask to be given it to ¡°make thunder-sticks¡±. Borden isn¡¯t too happy with that, since so much of this nicely-ductile metal can be used to make heads for the Sk?rpn spears, and so decides to instead give me just about 30 pounds of bronze. Enough for some experimentation and, if my efforts bear fruit, we can discuss the rest of it come spring. ¡°It is too hard to smelt all this ¡®bronze¡¯ metal in winter anyway, so you and the smith can toy around with a small bit of it, and let us see what you come up with.¡± Well, THAT sounds¡­REASONABLE? Huh, maybe that periapt is already bearing fruit. So after melting and smelting a piece off a javelin¡¯s head into a plate to put the psychic gems into, then decorating it with carvings via a summoned weapon iron xacto knife, I get to work on making a gun. And Aedirboa slobbers me with kisses each day after I get back from the smithy, thanks to her pretty present. Sheesh, girls REALLY like fancy jewelry, don¡¯t they? At least my marital life is going well, Aedirboa¡¯s happy tending to people¡¯s injuries, and cooking our meals in the evening. Normally a modern Western feminist would be throwing a shit-fit over being ¡°a kitchen slave¡± when they are asked to cook dinner, since they are home while their man is at work. NOT having that diseased philosophy is one of the things I found MOST attractive of Pia, and now here I am enjoying the same treatment again. As we are sitting at the table eating the diced-meat meal, Aedirboa reaches over to wipe the tear I didn¡¯t know I was shedding off my face, ¡°What is upsetting you, love.¡± I look at Aedirboa and smile shakily, ¡°This, ALL of this, nice and pleasant home just¡­reminds me of my OTHER home. I¡¯m sorry that I am eating your wonderful spiced goat, thinking of another family, Boa¡­I don¡¯t mean to make you feel neglected or anything.¡± ¡°No Lou,¡± she says while smiling shyly. ¡°I am glad that the life I can give you here and now, reminds you so much of the HAPPY life you had before. I know that I am not her, but I do not RESENT her, since she took such good care of your heart that I could share the joy she gave you, now that you are here with me.¡± I put down the two-pronged wooden fork we use for an eating utensil, and smile at her, before getting up to sweep her off her feet, ¡°I can¡¯t believe how much I love you Aedirboa, but there is ONE thing missing from our life together you know¡­¡± ¡°Yes!,¡± she laughs excitedly as I stumble carrying her to the bed, ¡°I look forward to seeing their face¡­¡± Then she pulls me into a violent and hungry kiss, as I put her on the bed. We end up eating prestidigitation-reheated spiced goat the next morning, instead of the usual stew set to simmer overnight, but neither of us are upset by it. *** Its official, this blacksmith WORSHIPS me! I try to ignore his awestruck face as he melts the stripped-clean bronze sword blade in the crucible, amazed at my seeming to ¡°already know¡± how to use this easy-to-melt metal. Well, there was a LOT of bronze fitting in the barn and house, so dad made sure I knew how to heat it up with a blowtorch and fix cracks in the bathtub or corner caps. Once it is nice and sloppy, glowing white-gold, he pours it into the clay pipe mold I made until it is about a third full. Then I drop the straight clay rod I prepared down the top of it, feeling the four pegs on the top and bottom slide along the inside of the tube, raising the level of the bronze. Eventually some of it overflows, into the same crucible as it is held below the mold. It would be impossible to do this, without using my suped-up prestidigitation to hollow out the clay block and make it all straight! And I can score the barrel by cutting the pegs down on the bottom, then spinning the plug as I pull it out, to get SOME rifling. We let it cool and harden slowly in the forge overnight, as he pours more bronze into the flat clay plate that has the various components of the trigger assembly and breach-loading mechanism. If I¡¯m going to be making a ¡°thunder stick¡±, I want it to go as quickly as I can get it to! Since the flat pieces cool quicker, each being smaller and exposed to the air, I put them still-warm into a leather pouch to take back home to my workshop. But I take a minor detour to Venradik¡¯s place to see if he has managed to get what I need out of those rocks I found in the northern foothills, ¡°Ah, Laughash, come in out of the snow!¡± ¡°Brrr¡­thanks Venradik. I¡¯m just stopping on by to see if you have managed to ¡®milk¡¯ those stones yet?¡± As I put my fur-lined outer jacket over a peg in the wall besides his door, he gives me the good news, ¡°Yes! It¡¯s not the yellow dust you wanted, though. I had to drip a mixture of varying extracts onto it slowly, so that they can soak into the stone, and the yellow fades as it drips into a bowl below it! Then, once all the yellow is gone, I spread it onto a goatskin near the fire to dry into a flaky substance. But, like you said, it DOES stink and tastes like tangy dirt¡­so is THIS what you were looking for?¡± Passing me a small piece of leather with some flaked yellow substance on it, I gently crush some between two fingers to smell and taste¡­yep, this is the shit, ¡°You did it! Now I that we have Sulphur I can start working on the ¡®thunder-dust¡¯! How many did you make?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­,¡± he rubs the side of his head, looking deflated suddenly. ¡°THAT is the problem here. Making the extract mix is careful work, doesn¡¯t make much per batch, and the drip process is SLOW. I am afraid that in these past two days I have only managed to pull all the yellow out of ONE stone¡­the SMALLEST one.¡± Shit, that is NOT a fast enough production rate to field a bunch of riflemen. ¡°Can you find another way to do it? With a few stones done I can experiment, but we will need HUNDREDS, maybe THOUSANDS of stones done in order to make enough for the next winter¡¯s war!,¡± My voice rises towards the end, and I catch myself after hearing what I sound like. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Venradik, I know you are doing your best, and I don¡¯t mean ANY disrespect. I¡¯m just worried.¡± His face stops hardening up at my confession, and his shoulders cease rising in anger, ¡°I know, I understand, and I don¡¯t BLAME you for being so disappointed. If I confess, I am too. I thought this would be EASY given how much more about alchemy that I know compared to everybody around here, and my centuries spent in my people¡¯s workshops. But this is something NEW to me, and I am sorry that it seems I must take my time figuring out the intricacies of it.¡± We clasp forearms briefly, one old friend to another, before he scoops the Sulphur he has finished into another leather pouch for me, ¡°Here take this for now, and I will try to figure out a faster way to do this while waiting for the next stone to finish.¡± Feeling sad about the slow pace of our progress with making gunpowder, I walk home to Aedirboa¡¯s gentle hug and a good meal. At least the salt peter was easy, if slow, thanks to all the gnoll heads we have. Good think Pia make me watch that ¡°Drifters¡± anime . It isn¡¯t like there are bat caves around here. And so I spend most of winter making new designs at the smithy, collecting gunpowder ingredients, and experimenting at home after dinner in our spare room. Nice that I can use my ¡°Breaking the Limits¡±-powered prestidigitation as air freshener, otherwise this place would REEK! *** It takes me a month of small batches to figure out a functional ratio of my adulterated salt peter, charcoal, and purified Sulphur to get serpentine powder. Since I have to mix them all wet, and then grind up the ¡°serpent¡± rope, before drying it out in small batches. You would THINK that using prestidigitation to do the drying would make it go faster, but I have to keep stopping to wait for a break in the snowstorms, before I can dig up a fresh batch of gnoll brain-fruit. It¡¯s ironic, that I am going to be using DEAD gnolls to kill MORE gnolls . Once I have my primitive single-barrel shotgun assembled, during the days the now keeps falling, I spend my spare time shaving down wooden dowels to fit it before hollowing them out into small cups. There is a quartz-based volcanic obsidian around here, or at least I ASSUME that is what it is, that Venradik and the rest of the village uses like a primitive lighter by striking sparks against their slag-iron weapons. I bore a tiny hole in the base of each wooden shell, and glue a tiny shard to the base¡­blasting caps! A few dry fires with a wad of goat hair inside the shell shows, thanks to small patches of scorched hair (and the smell¡­ugg) that it DOES produce a spark INSIDE the shell when struck by the hammer. Not spring-loaded though, just a triple-hinged lever mechanism, meaning I have to pull the ¡°trigger¡± lever RAPIDLY to hit it hard enough to spark. At least this means it can only be fired intentionally, so no safety mechanism is needed, but the rapid jerk WILL throw off my aim. Well once I have this first one working, I can start working on a better firing mechanism. All that work was wasted when I take the first shell outside on a clear day, for the very first official test firing. The ¡°breach¡± mechanism evidently wasn¡¯t strong enough, or the ¡°shell¡± had too much tension on the slug, but for whatever reason it was ruined as the firing mechanism blew out in the shell¡¯s detonation when I pulled the trigger. I ended up losing a hunk of hair to the flying pieces of bronze, but thankfully wasn¡¯t cut. It took a couple weeks of Aedirboa laughing at me to re-grow that eye brow. Lesson learned? Prop it in place with rocks and DON¡¯T hold future versions next to my HEAD when test-firing, dumbass! At least I know that the CONCEPT is sound¡­ Once I have the back powder mix right, the bottleneck becomes reiterating the gunsmithing at the village forge. This is a world without fine measurements, so no standardization, making EVERYTHING a bespoke piece. So if ¡°part X¡± works fine, unfortunately that is no guarantee that the same ¡°part X¡± will even FIT in the next model! The best I can do is keep the molds we use as intact as possible, and hope that variables in metal batches can be overcome through repeated re-forging, until we get a batch that works for that individual part. I wasn¡¯t expecting THIS to be the problem with the project! With a little over a month to go in winter, I FINALLY get a fully-functional prototype! After pumping a dozen shells through it in a couple minutes, and adjusting the hand-tied bronze wire sights, I can even hit the same head-sized rock at twenty paces reliably¡­breaking it on the third hit. Since I started this project the villagers have taken to using my, often SPECTACULAR, misfires as entertainment. Even Borden and the family come out to laugh at my ¡°rod of thunder¡±-ous failures. So they are there to witness my ACHIEVEMENT¡­and the shattering of the stone. When there are no laughs or other sounds beyond the reverberating of the shattering rock in the cold winter air, I turn to look and make sure there is anybody THERE. Well they are, although some of them have moved back an involuntary step, as they are all staring at me in (pardon the pun) thunderstruck awe. That¡¯s right you primitive screw-heads, this is my BOOM stick! ¡°So¡­who wants to wield thunder?¡± *** I never realized how much American gun-culture gives us an almost instinctual knowledge of how to use firearms, until NOW. Of the 14 villagers that aren¡¯t grasped by some atavistic terror at the thought of even TOUCHING the thing, only Borden and his son aren¡¯t thrown flat on their asses with the first shot. Well¡­the first SUCCESSFUL shot, since it takes a bit to get them to squeeze fast enough to strike a spark, their hands been too accustomed to a STRONG grip instead of a FAST one. Aedirboa just lays there in the snow laughing, being the only one to even HIT the boulder we are using as a training target, but also being taken from her feet by the kick. Torden is the ONLY one to even figure out how to reliably pull the trigger to create a discharge, AND stay standing¡­but his aim? Inside a barn, being told to hit ANY wall, he would miss¡­fucking hell, maybe if I figure out buckshot rounds he could be effective? Borden¡¯s smoke-stained hand falls around my shoulder from behind as he walks up to meet me, long after most of the townsfolk have left, and Torden is STILL trying to hit the boulder¡­from ten paces away, ¡°You have my apology Laughash, I never thought that this thing of yours was anything more than a toy that would give people some entertainment over the winter. But here it is, an effective, and FRIGHTENING weapon. It would seem that your other world is good for something BESIDES war plans and songs.¡± He puts his arm around my shoulders as he said this, stepping up beside me, towering over two heads taller than I am. ¡° No apologies needed Father, for a while there I was starting to think the same thing. I just wish Torden had better aim! HEY BROTHER, it needs SMALL movements to aim, it is not a warhammer!.¡± I don¡¯t think he heard me, his ears probably still ringing from that last shot. ¡°Yeah, I understand HOW we are supposed to use it after you explained it, but my old hands are too thick-fingered and OLD to make the small movements it needs. And sadly, Torden takes after me, just twenty winters younger. I¡¯m afraid that unless you can come up with a way to make a strong arm more useful than quick hands, YOU will be the only one to find this thing useful,¡± Borden says with a sigh of resignation. But that¡­twigs my member-berries¡­what IS it again? ¡°Borden¡­can you say that again, there is something on the TIP of my mind, but it won¡¯t come together¡­,¡± I absent-mindedly ask. He takes his arm from around my shoulder and turns to partly face me, as I turn to face him, ¡°What part? My old thick-fingered hands? Torden being me but younger? Our strong arms not being as-¡± A shock of realization, ¡°YES THAT!¡± I go running the dozen paces to Torden, grabbing his shoulder, then quickly stopping him as he turns with a LOADED shotgun, ¡°Torden your aim is SHIT, so let¡¯s not waste any more shells.¡± His face falls from the feral shit-eating grin he has had since he first managed to get it to fire, as he hands the firearm to me, ¡°Aww damn, brother. Can you make ME one? I promise that I will figure it out!¡± I laugh maniacally, causing him to get a worried look in his eyes, ¡°I will do no such thing brother, when I can give you something to put those strong arms of yours to USE instead!¡± ¡°Huh?,¡± the guy looks like I just told him his britches flew south for the winter . ¡°I have an IDEA Torden,¡± I say as I hear Borden stopping just behind me, and turn towards him. ¡°And it is an EVIL idea, father.¡± Why does Borden have that shocked and scarred look? Do I have something on my face? ¡°Nevermind, just meet me here tomorrow morning, you do NOT want to miss THIS!,¡± heh, these people have no resistance to FOMO, a crack like THAT will have them here at dawn! And they were, along with¡­I think¡­the ENTIRE village. Word must have spread yesterday. I hand Torden a wooden box the size of one of HIS fists, covered in small flecks of volcanic black/grey stone, ¡°Here brother, throw this as FAR as you can up into the hillside, ok?¡± Torden looks at the box, rolling over between his hand, looking for something in confusion, ¡°Laughash, where is the ¡®tray-GAR¡¯?¡± Ugg, his English is HORRIBLE. With a grin so feral that it makes even HIM flinch back a little, despite having two heads of height on me and easily another 100 pounds of pure muscle, ¡°Your ARM is the trigger, just make it hit as hard as you can, as far AWAY as you can!,¡± I say, with a chuckle even I have to admit is pure evil incarnate. So, unsure of what is about to happen, Torden turns away from the village and hauls back his arm. With an almost-baseball like pitch, he hurls it maybe 30 or 40 paces away, as the wind catches it and pulls it to the side. With a second or two of flight time, it strikes in some exposed wind-blown rocks¡­and EXPLODES, scattering several of the stones as far away as the height of a full-grown man. YES! ¡°Close¡± only counts in a game of HAND GRENADES, you dog-faced motherfuckers! Now THAT is a hot potato, let¡¯s play ¡°fetch¡±! . Torden takes a couple steps backwards in shock, at the explosion creating a at LEAST a dozen times louder than my shotgun, as several of the villagers fall on their asses in astonishment. I move up to turn him around like a stunned child, both of us looking at the gob-smacked expression of his father and the other villagers nearby to be seen under their fur-lined hoods. We can¡¯t do any sort of reliable fuses in this day and age, but enough kinetic energy pumped into those sparking stones means a fuse isn¡¯t NEEDED¡­if you can get the detonation far enough AWAY. The sight of everybody¡¯s astonished faces making the lyrics to ¡°Thunderstruck¡± by AC/DC coming to mind. Yep, they all look like they opened a wardrobe, and saw another world complete with roaring lion inside of it . Over the last month or so of winter Torden and I go out to keep practicing with our respective toys, although I manage to convince him to use wooden blocks so not as to waste a lot of black powder. Even with small rocks mixed into it for shrapnel, those grenades use up at least TEN TIMES the powder as one of my shotgun shells! Despite his almost-supernatural ability to hit a target with a thrown spear, Borden can¡¯t get the ¡°rock chucking¡± style needed to throw a grenade accurately, even after a couple days of practice. But he still comes out every morning to watch us practice, along with increasingly fewer and fewer villagers, an open look of pride on his face every time I glance at him. I spend the evenings trying to get a second shotgun made, thinking that I might be able to get Aedirboa to use one if it is a smaller caliber with less kick. However, despite the lessons learned from making MINE the smithy and I never seem to get one working. I guess I¡¯m sucking technology penalties for that ¡°Primitive¡± era, and I just got lucky making ONE that works¡­right? Well if so, that explains why so many of my summon weapon versions kept failing! By the time the winter winds die down, and the snow starts to melt, I can accurately hit the rock three out of four times from fifty paces. Also, Torden¡¯s managed to knock out goats with a hit to the head from about half that distance¡­usually when he wants to eat some for dinner. *** So while everybody else is bringing in the winter crops, Borden decides to send the warriors from J¨¢rn back. The four of us who brought them here playing escort, and to plead for more help the following winter. I manage to convince him to delay our leaving for a couple weeks, so that the pass gets clearer and I have time to make shells and grenades from the last batches of salt peter and Sulphur. I don¡¯t tell him it is because I FINALLY finished my first Hit Die, and want to train to spend the stuff I just got! Plus, as a bonus, it seems that I retained about half of the XP that I need to go up a Hit Die, likely from the fight with the ogre and troll, but capped-out halfway to level 2. I don¡¯t remember any rule like that from The Harrowed Earth, maybe it was in an expansion book or something? NAME: Laughash RACE: Human SUBRACE: Primitive AGE: 16.2 years HIT DIE: 1 ECL: 1 XP TO NEXT LEVEL: 500/1,000 SIZE: Medium SPEED: 30 ft. ERA: Bronze-Age (Primitive, use one Era lower) ABILITY SCORES: Cha 16, Wis 12, Int 15, Dex 13, Con 10, Str 8 DURABILITY: 0 (due to Small size) SAVING THROWS: Fort +0 (1), Ref +3 (0), Will +5 (2). +3 vs. Fear. SPECIAL ABILITIES * Trickery Domain spells: 2 per day. ATTACK: Base Attack Bonus +0, Melee ¨C1, Ranged +1. SKILLS (¨C3 to Social skills from Primitive): [5 ranks remain to spend] * Charisma-Linked (+3) * * (CbF) Bluff +4 (4 ranks) [¨C3 Social] * * Diplomacy +5 (0 ranks) [+2 from Court Raised] * * (CbF) Disguise * * (P) Use Mystic Device +7 (4 rank) * Wisdom-Linked (+1) * * Heal +3 (2 ranks) * * Sense Motive +3 (0 ranks) [+2 from Court Raised] * * Spot +5 (4 rank) * * (P) Survival +4 (2 ranks) [+2 from Primitive] * Intelligence-Linked (+2) * * (P) Alchemy +6 (4 ranks) * * (P) Craft (medicine) +3 (1 rank) * * (P) Craft (tailoring) +4 (2 ranks) * * (P) Craft (weaponsmith) +6 (4 ranks) * * Knowledge (arcana) +6 (4 ranks) * * Knowledge (nature) +5 (3 ranks) * * Knowledge (nobility & royalty) +4 (0 ranks) [+2 from Court Raised] * * Spellcraft +6 (4 ranks) * Dexterity-Linked (+1) * * (CbF) Hide +3 (2 ranks) * Constitution-Linked (+0) [¨C2 from Court Raised] * * Concentration +4 (4 ranks) * * (P) Control Shape * * Strong Heart +4 (4 ranks) * Strength-Linked (¨C1) [¨C2 from Court Raised] * * (P) Climb * Linguistics +2 (2 ranks) * Tales & Legends +3 (1 trait) FEATS (Simple Weapon Proficiency, Firearms Proficiency, +Saber): * HD 1: Court Raised * Human: Chosen by Fate (Trickery) TRAITS (Mystical Hero): * Favored: Skillful ¡Á1 * HD 1: Eldritch Soul ¡Á1 * HD 1: Wildman ¡Á1 * HD 1: Loremaster ¡Á1 SPELLCASTING: +1 save DCs for Illusion except ¡°phantasms¡±. * Chosen by Fate CL 1 (+2), Max SL 0th. * * 0th: summon weapon Summon Weapon (Conj): Creates a non-magical mundane weapon you are familiar with. [Summon] * Eldritch Soul CL 1 (+2), Max SL 1st. Spell Level Pool Points: 17 (0th-Level are free) * * 0th: acid splash, detect magic, prestidigitation; 1st: color spray, mage armor Acid Splash (Evoc): Orb deals 1d3 (+6 Breaking the Limits) damage [to Con]. [Acid] Color Spray (Ill): Knocks unconscious, blinds, and/or stuns 1d6 (+5 Breaking the Limits) weak creatures [Material Consumed (colored red, yellow, and blue sand or powder)]. [Mind-Affecting; DC 14 Will save] Mage Armor (Conj): Gives subject +4 (+5 Breaking the Limits) armor bonus [Focus Needed (piece of cured leather)]. [Force] Prestidigitation (Universal): Performs minor tricks. (+6 to relevant skill checks Breaking the Limits). SPECIAL ABILITIES: * Advantage: Breaking the Limits (Eldritch Soul) [Charisma score ¨C10 ¨CSpell Level to spell effects] * Extra skill points * Charged, Daily Use, and Use Consumed enchanted items get +1 Caster Level when used. I decided to put my free saving throw base point into Fortitude, just to get it out of the negatives, since I am sick of tired of getting sick and tired every damn winter! As for the 20 skill points I had to distribute, I drop 3 each into Use Mystic Device and Spot, pick up 2 ranks in Craft (tailoring) and another 2 into Spellcraft, then top off Concentration with 1 point. Then, thanks I think to the long walk to Valdi and back with a heavy pack, I¡¯m able to pick up 4 ranks in Strong Heart¡­letting me increase my carrying capacity AND giving me a separate skill check to avoid being winded for such activities...go, go, cardio! Turns out that this makes my non-phantasm spells harder to resist, from a synergy bonus, thanks to the Bluff ranks. My next synergy bonus is Concentration, taking my bonus on saves vs. Fear effects up to +3 instead of +2. Lastly, Use Mystic Device increases the Caster Level of any charge-style magic item I use by +1, which can be handy when utilizing talismans from Venradik, if nothing else. Not the BEST round of synergistic boosts, but if I remember right there are a LOT more once I can get 5 ranks maximum to my skills at Hit Die 2¡­ but I still have 5 ranks left to train before I achieve it. Training those Craft (tailoring) ranks took some effort¡­and a LOT of goat hair thread from the village¡¯s weaver women. I first tried to make a loom of some sort, but frankly I have ZERO idea how they work, and wasted two whole days trying to puzzle one out. All I was left with was a mess of broken shaved sticks, a tangle of wires, and a wife that couldn¡¯t stop laughing at me since I was stuck in the MIDDLE of it all after it snapped from the tension. Aedirboa, still laughing lightly, tried to help me untangle myself from the mess for over an hour until I got frustrated enough to cast ¡°least wish¡± (i.e. prestidigitation) to unravel and wind up all the wires of thread. Then she just looked at me with a puzzled look, complete with raised eye brow, ¡°If you don¡¯t have the patience to make cloth the normal way, with combs, why not use that spell to REPLACE the combs?¡± Awww¡­.FUCK my life. After that it only took a couple hours to wind up all the goat-hair thread into patches of cloth of the sizes and shapes I needed, little cutting required! I know she¡¯s going to bring this up EVERY time I try to do something complicated again . So by the time I go to sleep that night, I have the bandoleer for the shotgun shells, which I wanted. It takes a bit more finagling, plus a leather strap from Fjodr¡¯s leatherworking eldest son, to make a thick-walled and compartmented satchel case for Torden¡¯s grenades, after a few tries. Then I spend the rest of the time until we leave over AT the weaver¡¯s, helping make cloth ¡°the usual way¡±, to train up the last rank in Craft (tailoring). So the morning two weeks later, I give Torden his well-padded high-yield, for the age, present¡­and the six of us set out. *** This time on the trip up we are dragging a canoe in the creek behind us on a rope, taking turns pulling it between the two J¨¢rn warriors in the morning, and both Hidl and Fjodr in the evening. Torden and I get excused from this duty party for being princes, and partly because I weigh HALF as much as the next lightest person in the group while Torden is a walking WALL that is taking point on the trail. Why bother taking it along? Because as much as it suuuucks to have wet boots and britches from wading into the shallow sides of the creek when the trail disappears, it sucks MORE being soaked to the bone when we have to CROSS it at the ¡°rainbow rock¡±! If we have to move dozens of people across the river, this would be MUCH faster, anyway. Not even half a day out of the village, we get hit by three wolves running down at us from the increasingly-steep hill/cliffside beside the trail, attacking our two guests in the back while Hidl and Fjodr are taking the tow rope from them. One of them is crushed and thrown to the side halfway towards us, without even a yip, by a hurled ¡°Mister Slammy¡±-shaped missile. Then one pushes away from the slope, leaping onto Hidl just as he manages to raise his shield between them, its snapping jaws slavering just inches from Hidl¡¯s face. The last one passes right by the warriors, to lunge at my leg and latch on, yanking me painfully to the ground. I¡¯m wracked with pain, trying to grip and pull off the wolf as it shakes and savages at my leg, blood flying everywhere. Then it lets out a pained releasing my thigh, as it is YANKED off me by Torden, his powerful gripping hands on the thing¡¯s tail and a hind leg. With a savage roar, my brother slams the wolf into the steep hillside besides the trail, before falling onto it lie he¡¯s auditioning for a wrestling federation. I start clutching at my leg while my eyes squint in agony, trying to stem the bleeding, as the two fight. The wolf snaps at Torden¡¯s face, but he just puts one powerful forearm into its mouth, and SHOVES the wolf¡¯s head to the side, using it as a lever while his other hand holds it in place by its scruffy fur. With a and a grunt of pained effort, the wolf stops moving¡­its neck snapped. My leg seems to have stopped bleeding while I¡¯m sitting up clutching it, Torden rummaging around in my backpack, pulling out things until he reaches my medical bag. Glancing to the side I see that the last wolf died unremarked, Hidl¡¯s shield scoured from the blades of our J¨¢rn allies and covered in the beast¡¯s blood as well as bits of hacked-off flesh. Hidl¡¯s face likewise bloody, but at least it doesn¡¯t look to be HIS blood. THAT was a short-and-sweet fight¡­just my bad luck to be the ONLY one hurt, right? Torden calls for us to camp out here early, to give the bandage and potions time to work, rather than risk the wounds reopening on the walk to the village we can still see below us. As I lay there wrapped in my camping bed-furs, with Hidl watching over me, the rest split up to find firewood. While Hidl is just staring off into the hills, a nervous but lost look on his face. I think the kid¡¯s in shock, from having that wolf right in his face. ¡°Hey Hidl, you did a great job, you know. Certainly better than ME .¡± ¡°Excuse me prince, but no I didn¡¯t. All I did was lift a shield to keep my face safe, while everybody ELSE fought! I¡¯m just¡­I¡¯m¡­I was AFRAID Laughash,¡± he says, his voice falling along with his gaze. ¡°So was I. So was Torden, even. Want to know a secret, my friend?¡± With curiosity, he turns his head to look at me, ¡°A secret, prince? Are you going to tell me that you just lied to me, claiming Torden was afraid?¡± Yeah, the kid doesn¡¯t believe a word of THAT, does he? So I lift my shoulders to look him straight in the face, ¡°No Hidl, that was no lie, and I am NOT trying to trick you. Torden WAS afraid, as was Fjodr, and doubtlessly the others, although I doubt they will admit it since it doesn¡¯t seem manly. The secret, Hidl, is that you cannot be brave UNLESS you are afraid. Bravery is not the ABSENCE of fear; it is the ability to act DESPITE the fear. And you DID act; you lifted your shield, and used it to hold the Wolf in place, so that the OTHERS could kill it! If you were a coward you would have frozen in place, while your throat was ripped out.¡± Then, laughing to break the tense atmosphere, ¡°Or you would have turned to run, and gotten a second craphole torn in your ass!¡± The guys return to find Hidl and I sharing jokes and laughing, Torden looking relieved to see the sight and he nods at me ingratitude. The guy is getting to know me too well. *** The next morning my leg is mostly patched-up, the skin having sealed together into scars from the cure light wounds-Anchored bandages and alchemical medicines, but the thigh muscle still stiff and knotted with damaged tissue. As a result my leg is stiff from the hip to the knee, being hard to move, but at least I am in no danger, ¡°Give it a few more days and I should be back to normal.¡± Shaking his head, Torden commands, ¡°Hidl, help Laughash keep up with us, he¡¯ll just have to heal on the walk. The wolves will have kept most other threats from the area so it should be fairly safe. Fjodr, you are going to be breaking the trail instead of me, and I will pull the boat alone in the afternoon. We will be moving slower thanks to my brother¡¯s leg, so I won¡¯t have a problem keeping up.¡± With a shocked look Fjodr says, ¡°No Torden, I cannot ALLOW you to do such a thing! We can just go back to Askfj?r, and try again in a few days, once we are all hale.¡± ¡°YOU are not in charge of this task Fjodr, father placed ME in charge. I know you are only concerned for our safety, but if we let days pass something will have moved in to take the place of these wolves, and we could end up in a WORSE situation. As for my dignity, it is MINE to do with as I choose, and I choose to sacrifice it if that means this trip is less likely to be a failure.¡± With a firm commanding voice, Torden pushes Fjodr to the top of the trail, and picks up his own backpack to follow. Sighing, Fjodr turns around with his enchanted bronze sword and shield, and starts walking. The guy is his father¡¯s son, it seems. I¡¯m dying of curiosity during the trip, wanting to check my character sheet, but I lack the privacy I need to NOT look insane while doing so. Guess I¡¯ll have to wait until we are back home. After a couple days we reach the section of trail that leads to the split in the creek in the evening, intending to make camp there tonight rather than attempting a crossing in the dark. My leg, thanks to the medicines Venradik gave me for the trip, is mostly fine. At least well enough that I can usually walk on my own, just needing help from Hidl when we have to trudge through the creek or climb steep sections of trail. Then Fjodr drops into a crouch up ahead, waving one hand for us to stop as he turns around and puts a hand over his mouth. He wants us to be quiet, right? Everybody stops, the minor conversations ending immediately, to avoid making noise. Yep, that¡¯s a signal for silence. Before he slowly walks back, shuffling past me to talk to Torden in a whisper, but close enough that I can hear what he says, ¡°There¡¯s a bear in the clearing, I think it is the one from last time. It looks like it is trying to catch fish from the water.¡± Torden gets an evil grin on his bearded face, making him look like he is a savage with that red scruffy beard making his mouth look to have recently enjoyed a his bloody meal. Passing the tow rope to Fjodr he moves to the front of the trail, ¡°Finally¡­time to try this for REAL!¡± Aww, damnit. I slowly put my pack on the ground to help my mobility, pulling out and slowly cocking my shotgun, before creeping up to ten or so feet behind him. I know EXACTLY what the overgrown child is going to do¡­I DID give him a new toy, after all. Seeing him stop at the gentle curve that leads to the beach clearing on this side of the creek, he takes a grenade from the pouch I made him, and throws it with POWER around the corner where I cannot see. With a thunderous it detonates, quickly followed by a pained bellow from the still-living bear. Torden falls back beside and in front of me, pulling out his warhammer, as I lift the shotgun to my shoulder and aim down the barrel, leaning over flexing my good leg to get a better line of fire. The bear, bloodied and limping with one trashed rear leg, its fur smoldering from the flash-detonation of the black powder, comes around the corner. It sees us, and jerkily rears up to try and bear (pun intended) down on us, as I fire at where its head was. Missing the head I hit it in the general area of the solar plexus as it stumbles forward, dropping again to all fours, just shy of reaching Torden. With joyful bloodthirsty shouted laughter, Torden leaps forward, ¡°Mister Slammy¡± raised high overhead just before he brings it down. Slamming into the bear¡¯s skull, it lives up to its name, almost pulping it from the powerful blow knocking the head into the trail. The obvious corpse just lays there and twitches for a couple minutes, before winding down to stillness. Panting great lungful¡¯s of air from the adrenalin, Torden turns to grab me and my empty shotgun up in a bear hug, laughing uproariously, ¡°My brother gives the BEST gifts!¡± Despite the crushing arms keeping me from breathing easily, I can¡¯t help but laugh in agreement. Compared to LAST time, this was easy! So we camp at the small beach that night, enjoying some fresh bear meat, which tastes great to us despite being so objectively nasty. Come the morning, my leg only twinges when I do a deep sitting bend, so it seems I have mostly if not completely recovered. Hidl nimbly climbs up the side of the cliff face further up the creek, to wrap the canoe¡¯s rope around a large rock jutting out of it, so the canoe won¡¯t flow away with the water. Getting inside once he is done, Torden in the front, he and Fjodr move across the way by the simple expedient of Toden reaching out to grasp the rope and pulling towards the side of the canoe closest to our own shore. He looks over at me before doing so, likely afraid he is going to overturn the boat, ¡°Are you SURE this will work? I¡¯ve never heard of a boat moving against the flow WITHOUT pulling it from the land¡­¡± ¡°Hey, who has the clever ideas in the family, you or me?¡± Prepare to be shocked by the power of PHYSICS, you muscle-head . Sighing, he shakes his head, and pulls. ¡°WHAT THE FUCK!?,¡± Torden shouts, while Fjodr just clutches the sides in astonished fear, as the entire canoe moves across the river and UP-stream, using the other end of the rope as a pivot point. The force of the water hitting the angled side of the canoe pushing it AWAY from the bank, with enough force to also push against itself to some degree, it slowly creeps across the river-wide section of the creek. Everybody left on the beach with me takes turns staring at the self-pushing boat, and at my shit-eating grin, while Torden laughs in shocked surprise over his trip. A couple minutes later Fjodr jumps out onto the other bank, and ties off a second rope to the back of the canoe, looping it around a thickest cliffside scrub-tree he can find. Torden releases the rope while Fjord leans back, letting out slack from the rope slowly as the boat moves back to our side. Thanks to Torden¡¯s strength, we are ferried one at a time across the split, getting to the other side safely and dry in less than half an hour. We leave the boat on the Askfj?r side of the ¡°rainbow rock¡± split, tying off the other rope to the same scrub-tree, before walking down the trail to J¨¢rn. And we didn¡¯t have to spend an entire day drying off our gear and warming up¡­physics, bitches! So with that we come around the trailhead into the valley of J¨¢rn as the sun starts to set, to one HELL of a shock ahead of us! *** The giants are here! We see four immense grey-skinned figures standing in the village¡¯s center, one leaning down, surrounded by people. Turning to head back up the trail, to escape capture ourselves while we try to figure something out, the two J¨¢rn warriors who were travelling in the back of the column move to stand side-by-side, weapons already in hand. With shock in his voice, Torden hisses out, ¡°What do the two of you think you are doing? Is THIS how you treat allies!¡± ¡° Prince Torden, this is NOT what you think. The giants of J?kulm are NOT enemies; we have been trading with them every spring and fall for generations. Last year you just came before they did, which is why Jarl Vorn was so eager to send you BACK!¡± ¡°Oh, and what EXACTLY do you trade? How many PEOPLE do they take each year?,¡± Torden asks, angry and starting to shout, as the rest of us from Askfj?r are staring at the exchange. I¡¯m carefully trying to hide behind Hidl¡¯s wide back, my shotgun in hand, as I load it as quietly as possible. Then, with the breach open and one hand holding a shell, a voice that is FELT as much as HEARD rumbles behind us, ¡°No little prince, they give us iron from their mines, in exchange for our sheep.¡± With a falling heart, our faces pale, we all turn to see the giant white-haired¡­well¡­GIANT, standing there leaning on a staff made from an old-growth pine tree. Wait, HAIR? With a rumbling thunderous chuckle, the thing says, ¡°I assume from your reaction that you have come across our slave-taking stone cousins. Well rest assured, your minds are safe from US, we would rather live in peace and solitude, trading for the things we cannot make ourselves.¡± It turns around, walking away from the blind corner that hid it from us initially, to walk through the treed hills towards its fellows, ¡°Come, we were warned that you might arrive while we are still here, and I think both the Jarl of J¨¢rn and our own leader seek to talk about this invasion of yours.¡± We are pushed into motion by the warriors that barred our way, and must then follow the giant¡­shaman? Well, whatever his role in their society, we follow it to the town center where the other four giants are located. Coming through the trees we see that there are dozens of long-legged sheep there, coming up to the calves or knees of the giants, while Jarl Vorn is sitting on his throne outside talking to the giant that is kneeling. That thing looks comfier than Borden¡¯s throne¡­I better not tell EITHER of them that, though. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. What is probably the greatest indicator of the giants¡¯ good intentions is that, unlike last time, nobody takes our weapons. Then again, they are GIANTS¡­what fear would they have for toothpicks? Despite this I¡¯m glad of their hubris, since I think that Torden¡¯s adamantine warhammer and my own shotgun can make them at least REGRET trying to enslave us. Ok, they ALL have hair, and the kneeling guy even has a BEARD¡­they are certainly NOT those bald-ass stone giants. And I see no decorative tattoos either, so WHAT kind of giant are they? I remember from The Harrowed Earth that each species of ¡°true¡± giant has widely different philosophies, and practices different kinds of psychic powers, but I don¡¯t remember the specifics of them. In the time period that I was playing Herr Grey, most giant species had died out, and the few that remained were ¡°lost¡± in the deepest parts of the world far from civilization. Having seen the giant by the trailhead walk towards them, evidently Jarl Vorn had stools brought out for us to sit at the edge of the village¡¯s cleared center, near him. Well now I know why they had this big-ass clearing in the middle of the place, at least. Then he turns to the giant and projects his voice with both confidence and VOLUME, ¡°Let us finish the negotiations tomorrow, since it seems I have other guests I must see to. Until we agree on a price, we will shelter the sheep in our pens, so that you can sleep without worrying over them. Is this agreeable to you?¡± The giants in charge¡¯s voice bellows out, but softer, like it is trying to SOUND smaller, ¡°Yes Jarl Vorn, it gives us a chance to ask our Jarl for further instructions, if you tell us later tonight what news they bring. Agreed?¡± ¡°Agreed,¡± says Jarl Vorn, standing from his throne as it is then grabbed by two burly villagers and carried away to his own longhouse. ¡°Come, see our visitors to someplace comfortable, while you two tell me what happened this past winter,¡± he says pointing to us, before the two of them follow his throne to his longhouse. A large house is emptied to make room for us, which is an upgrade in prisons from the storehouse with a shitting bucket. So there we are, sitting in the main room, eating the stew that they left behind rather than let it go to waste. I lean over the corner of the table, to say in hushed tones in case we are being spied upon, ¡°Brother your hammer will work well against these giants, as will the thunder-boxes I made you, and my own weapon. If we have to fight our way out, it won¡¯t be like the troll fight, we CAN hurt them¡­easier, I think, than they EXPECT we could.¡± Torden leans over to me to say in hushed deep tones, ¡°I guessed as much, but SO FAR they have treated us like guests more than prisoners. We will keep our weapons to hand, but it is a bad idea to fight this battle if we don¡¯t NEED to. Even should we win our freedom, our task is to get allies here in J¨¢rn, not to make enemies.¡± Hidl and Fjodr nod in agreement, evidently having followed our conversation despite the attempts to keep in quiet. Then Fjodr, the veteran among us, cautions, ¡°We should keep watch in any case, should the just be expecting us to let our guard down before slitting our throats as we sleep.¡± And so we are all tired come morning when a villager knocks on the door to escort us to the Jarl, having slept fitfully mostly due to the stress of our predicament. We meet Jarl Vorn in his longhouse, sans throne since we see it being carried out as we walk up. He says to us, as he leans against the table covered in a roughly-drawn and marked-up map of Askfj?r, ¡°So it seems that you WEREN¡¯T lying about the wolf-men threat.¡± He stands up to face us, speaking to Torden, ¡°However you ALSO managed, with trickery and preparation, to wipe out the attackers. So why do you need help from ME, if you are so capable?¡± Torden stand up straight, putting on his regal airs, ¡°Jarl Vorn, from all we know this group was just the EDGE of the horde that is coming. Yes we managed to kill all but a few of the HUNDREDS that came at us, but what of the THOUSANDS that will sweep upon us this winter? We lost warriors in this attack, and our tricks are now known by them. So our chances of victory are much less THIS winter, and can only go UP with your aid. As you know, should Askfj?r fall, YOU will be their next meal!¡± After a minute¡¯s thought, Vorn replies, ¡°You make a good argument prince Torden, and you reflect my own thoughts from last night. So you WILL have your allies from my people, but I CANNOT send all our warriors with you. We need many HERE to keep the ogres and other threats in the mountains at bay, or else I risk DOOMING my village in the attempt to save it.¡± He then moves to the door behind us, before turning to command, ¡°Now come, prince Ferkad wishes to speak with you this morning as well.¡± Great, and the frying pan was JUST getting to a comfortable temperature. *** Despite my misgivings I have to admit, Ferkad is charming and does his best to come across as kind rather than threatening. We are left sitting there on the same stools from before, while he and Vorn finish their negotiations; agreeing on the 40 sheep in exchange for a cartload of smelted iron rods, each the height of a man. I guess they use them for construction? Must be hard to build floors that can hold their weight without SOME reinforcement. Once the negotiations are over, and the villagers are carrying rods from around the village to the wooden cart for the giants, Jarl Vorn tells his attendants to move his throne back before turning to us, ¡°And now I¡¯ll leave you to your conversation. But don¡¯t expect much privacy, with how loud this guy is even when talking softly!,¡± he says, laughing as he walks away. Torden stands up as Vorn leaves, then turns towards Ferkad, his chest out and cloaked in pride to hide his fear. ¡°So, prince of the giants, what is it that YOU wanted from us?,¡± he says in as loud a bellow as he can manage. Ferkad releases a deep rumbling chuckle as he points at ME, and says, ¡°That pale yellow metal rod your companion has in his hands, do you have more? We have use of it but have not been able to FIND more, and my father bade me to trade with you for it if possible.¡± Shocked by this, my ship¡¯s supply-officer (A.K.A. ¡°scrounge master of horse trading¡±) instincts kick in. Years of under-the-table dealing in the navy coming out before I can engage my mouth filter, ¡°We have more bronze than you just trading for in iron, with more to come, but what can YOU give to US for it¡­since WE have uses for it as well, it needs to be something worth our loss after all.¡± Afterwards I rub my throat, the need to shout starting to aggravate it. I don¡¯t realize it until I am done talking, but I am already standing besides Torden, who is looking at me like I just grew a second head! ¡°Brother, I am in charge, so please sit down and-¡± ¡°NO brother, I am a prince as well, and while father bade you to see to our alliance with J¨¢rn, MY orders are to use my wits to your benefit. So now that YOUR authority has ended since the alliance is secure, it is time for ME to do what I do best, isn¡¯t it?,¡± I ask with a feral grin, my eyes likely sparking with greed and an Evil Idea?. From the look he gives me as he backs away after I interrupted him; he knows that the only way to stop me from taking over this conversation is to KILL me. And maybe not even then, heh heh heh. You see I remembered something, from seeing the iron rods, and realizing that they are using them for construction. A little tidbit from reading their entry in The Harrowed Earth: no matter the Era that they are in, all civilized ¡°True Giants¡± have a MEDIEVAL level of technology. Which doesn¡¯t mean much, but since the human population seems to be stuck at a ¡°Classical¡± Era of technology, they are still MORE advanced¡­and they are practiced at CONSTRUCTION. So, how about getting stone walls complete with crenellations for Askfj?r? It is a HELL of a lot easier to fight off an army from atop a 20 foot high stone wall with cover, after all! ¡°I care not which of you two I deal with, so long as a deal is made,¡± rumbles Ferkad, obviously starting to lose patience. I grin inside as I cast a prestidigitation spell to magnify my voice, and preserve my throat! ¡°Well there doesn¡¯t seem to be a deal OFFERED, prince Ferkad. My brother and I may have disagreed about who has the authority to engage in a bargain with you, but we did NOT seek you out to offer any sort of deal. However if you have one YOU would like to offer, I¡¯m sure my brother agrees that doing so falls under MY authority, not his own. Isn¡¯t that correct Torden?,¡± I say, trying to tell Torden to BACK OFF with my look. Thankfully he has always been more insightful with people than I am, and gets it. I have a PLAN here, let me see it through. So as Torden holds up his hands in surrender, before going back to sitting with Hidl and Fjodr, Ferkad speaks up with conciliation in his voice, ¡°I¡¯m sorry little prince, I intended no insult, just seeking to gain whatever I can from your wealth.¡± HAH, got ya! Now I have the advantage in this negotiation¡­and I am going to get as many horses as I can out of it. ¡°No apology needed Ferkad, the town of Askfj?r is willing to sell you the metal you want, if the offer is good enough. But that still bears the burden in this conversation; what CAN you offer? We have no need for herds of sheep after all.¡± C¡¯mon, take the damn bait¡­ Ferkad pushes up on his extended knee from where he is kneeling, using his other hand to rub his thick beard, ¡°Let me think, then¡­well I doubt you would welcome blocks of ice delivered to you, nor lumber since I hear that you live next to a deep woodland. But I also hear that you are under attack, in the winter, and the cold has no effect on us. So what if we provide you with some service to help fend off the attacks?¡± Ok now, let¡¯s surf this wave, ¡°We JUST closed a deal with J¨¢rn for warriors to address that very thing, warriors we don¡¯t have to build immense homes for, and can also aid us with building up Askfj?r¡¯s walls.¡± Raising pale eyebrow on his now-visibly deep BLUE skin (not grey as it appeared in yesterday¡¯s failing light), ¡°Walls did you say? Well it happens that my people are well practiced at building such things. So what if we assisted you in building up your defenses, and I even make them better than you could yourselves?,¡± he says, grinning with ill-concealed confidence. So, you think you¡¯ve WON, do you? I smile, from the familiar feeling of imminent victory, ¡°Oh? Do you think you with your giant hands could make walls we mere humans could use? How are we to climb steps so high that we must PULL ourselves onto them? And what of the provisioning of your people while they are there? It isn¡¯t like our puny fields can feed ONE of you, let alone what¡­tens? And what of the warriors that are to return to Askfj?r with us, what will THEY be doing while your folk are doing the labors THEY were going to undertake? No, no, this doesn¡¯t seem like a good trade for us at all.¡± And now the hook is baited. Looking worried, Farkad holds out a hand between us, waving it back and forth in negation, creating a noticeable breeze as he does so, ¡°Hold on, hold on, you misunderstand something. I am offering that we use our skills to create defenses for you as good as those we use for ourselves, at OUR cost, completely. Not to REPLACE your own efforts, but to ADD to them, and without your need to bear the price of any of it, INCLUDING feeding our larger stomachs. All we ask for in return is whatever ¡®bronze¡¯ you are willing to give up, that at least makes the task worthwhile to us. If you agree to this, I will have a work force at your Askfj?r in a tenday, to look the place over and bargain for the construction. And THEN we can come to an agreement, if that is amenable to you.¡± And that is how you get an open-ended deal with the giants to build advanced, for the age, defenses¡­for scrap metal. *** As the four of us the next morning, plus the original two J¨¢rn visitors, walk up the trail to where we left the canoe, Torden keeps looking at me strangely. Finally, fed up with his side-eyes from the front of the column, I move up beside him at a wider section of the path, ¡°Very well Torden, spit out whatever it is behind your teeth that you want to say.¡± Grumbling he says, ¡°You traded all those weapons, to giants, for their building us¡­walls. I don¡¯t understand how you could do that.¡± Damn, he¡¯s upset that I overstepped, isn¡¯t he. Or maybe that I cut a deal with them, after the time we spent as slaves to the stone giants. I put a comforting hand up (WAY up) on his shoulder, ¡°Look brother, those WEREN¡¯T the same as the giants that made slaves of us; they are the ones FIGHTING them! So I am sorry if I made you feel bad by stepping in and taking over like-¡± He shoves his thigh-thick forearm in front of my face, stopping me from talking as I flinch backwards and release his shoulder, ¡°NO brother, you do not understand! You traded those USELESS weapons, to GIANTS, and in exchange THEY are building WALLS for US! I can¡¯t puzzle out how you DID that!¡± Oooooohhhhh¡­he is ASTONISHED! I¡­can¡¯t resist the joke. I haven¡¯t been able to pull this gag since I was an arms-section NCO, training newbies. So I reach out to push down his arm, patting it at his side like I¡¯m comforting a small child, ¡°Talent brother. Pure Talent,¡± then with a straight face I slow down and fall back to my place in the column of nearly 100 people, before feeling my face crack open in an ear-to-ear grin. I¡¯m holding my side as I feel my face, holding in my laughter as I make sure that my face hasn¡¯t REALLY cracked into some horror-show grin, when Torden looks back at me once more. Then I can¡¯t take it anymore and start laughing uproariously, followed shortly by Torden as he falls back to hug me from the side. We continue that way, each of us laughing as the other one starts to wind down, the release of the stress from the encounter and unbelieving astonishment that WE DID IT, washing relief through us. Eventually, we wind down, and he goes back to the front of the column after gripping my shoulder with bruising force to show his pride in his little brother. Is THIS what my own little brother felt like, back on Earth? For once, the memories of my life before this don¡¯t hurt, just leaving a pleasant ache in my heart. But that column of 100 I mentioned? Vorn spent the rest of the previous day organizing one able-bodied warrior from each house, sending about 2/3rds of the fighters from J¨¢rn to follow us, as well as our two visitors. They are gathering food and goods to make the trip, with the earliest-ready following immediately and the rest coming along as their gear is prepared. The two prior visitors are intended to stay at the canoe and ferry people back and forth, probably over the next few days, before returning home. So we lost 22 warriors, half to death and the others to infirmity, but gained 90¡­ish. It isn¡¯t like they were lined up to be counted; it is just an estimate that Jarl Vorn gave Torden before we started our march. It is an increase, but I don¡¯t know if it is to be ENOUGH of one! Hopefully the walls the giants build are enough to make up for it. So we get to the boat as the sun starts to set, thankfully still tied off, and the four of us ferry ourselves across while our guests last winter (I really SHOULD have learned their names) pull the canoe back to their side before we all set up camp. Once I am taking watch, I wait a bit to make sure everybody is asleep, before ¡°going to take a leak¡± and whispering ¡°character sheet¡±. XP TO NEXT LEVEL: 1,337/1,000 [cannot level up until skill points are spent] Looks like I¡¯m ¡°LEET¡±! Pity I never really got into computers, beyond the basic stuff I needed in the navy, but even I get that joke. Hey, waitaminute, I can level up to 2nd Hit Die? Don¡¯t I just have to SLEEP for that? So why haven¡¯t¡­oooohhhh¡­I still have skill points to spend. Well, I¡¯ll do that, and see what traits I can get when I wake up. So I try to see what I can put points into, having ¡°trained¡± it over this past week since leaving Askfj?r. Unfortunately, no luck putting them into my Craft (tailoring). But I CAN put points into Diplomacy, Heal, Knowledge (nature), and Survival. After some experimentation I find that I can also put points into Craft (traps), Knowledge (geography), Move Silently, Profession (smithy), Profession (thievery), and likely others before I stop messing around with the character porn. I¡¯m still on watch for another hour or two; I don¡¯t have to rush, so WHY should I put points into WHICH skills? Ok, pros of each, since the cons are pretty obviously ¡°missing points elsewhere¡±. Craft (traps) can be useful, and I can even go up to TWO points in it, but it isn¡¯t like my one ass is going to be useful in the coming war¡­and the hunters in the village are already better trappers than I could ever be. My only benefit is that I have knowledge of traps that haven¡¯t been invented yet, but that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯d be able to MAKE them! Yeah, hard pass. Diplomacy means I will have an easier time schmoozing my way through life as a prince. But I can only put ONE point in it right now, and these negotiations were my first chance to even USE it! It isn¡¯t like I¡¯m in a major civilization that spans hundreds of miles¡­my ¡°kingdom¡± is a single village! I think I need to pass on this one. Heal can go up to 3 points now, probably because of all the ¡°physician heal thyself¡± I had to do after the wolf fight. And since I can pick up ANOTHER Chosen by Fate spell once I level up, I can grab cure minor wounds and start spamming it out, because I¡¯ll have unlimited spells after learning the 1st-level ¡°Trickery¡± domain spell¡­hmmmm¡­ I think it is worth it. Knowledge (geography) can get a point in it, which means I can break the ¡°DC 15¡± cap limit on Knowledge skills, but I doubt that we are going to go marching across the CONTINENT any time soon. And, once again, the local hunters have already been doing this for their entire LIVES. So yeah, passing on this one as well. Knowledge (nature) can go up to 4 ranks, from the current 3, which means I MIGHT unlock a synergy bonus somewhere. Even if I don¡¯t, it WILL help me find crafting materials and stuff like that, as well as getting me closer to the synergies with Survival that I KNOW it has at 5 ranks. Fuck, just talked myself into putting that point in here. Move Silently can go up 2 ranks, to a TOTAL of 2, from what...all the time I spent trying to move around and not wake people up when I use my ¡°character sheet¡± ability? Well either way, I am already pretty agile, thanks to this thin-ass body, and I don¡¯t HUNT so sneaking up on game isn¡¯t too useful. While I would have loved to put points into it as a kid, as an ADULT it is just not useful to me or my future plans. Profession (smithy) could be handy for the synergy bonus when making firearms, but at the 2 ranks I can put into it I won¡¯t be seeing THAT soon enough to be useful¡­if at all. Plus portable tools just aren¡¯t a THING around here, so I¡¯ll have to pass on this one as well. Profession (thievery) is just a FUCK no! Even if this society didn¡¯t have its ¡°thief-to-slavery pipeline¡± to deal with, my status as a prince is FAR more valuable compared to any pocket lint I might be able to get in a village with a BARTER economy! Survival can go up 2 ranks, all the way to 4, from what¡­all these long-ass walks through the wilderness and mountains? Hey, I¡¯ll take it, since it will help with my ¡°Track¡± feat AND finding useful materials in the wilderness. So to summarize I put 1 point into each of Heal (bringing it up to 3 ranks) and Knowledge (nature) (4 ranks), 2 points into Survival (for a total of 4 ranks), leaving only 1 point. After looking for a USEFUL place I can put it, I find that I can slip 1 point into Craft (handicrafts)¡­which I remember can be used to make tools. Eh, at least it MIGHT be useful¡­ Then, after a synergy bonus to Craft (handicrafts) from Survival, my skill list looks like this. SKILLS (¨C3 to Social skills from Primitive): * Charisma-Linked (+3) * * (CbF) Bluff +4 (4 ranks) [¨C3 Social] * * Diplomacy +5 (0 ranks) [+2 from Court Raised] * * (CbF) Disguise * * (P) Use Mystic Device +7 (4 rank) * Wisdom-Linked (+1) * * Heal +4 (3 ranks) * * Sense Motive +3 (0 ranks) [+2 from Court Raised] * * Spot +5 (4 rank) * * (P) Survival +6 (4 ranks) [+2 from Primitive] * Intelligence-Linked (+2) * * (P) Alchemy +6 (4 ranks) * * (P) Craft (handicrafts) +4 (1 rank) [+1 synergy] * * (P) Craft (medicine) +3 (1 rank) * * (P) Craft (tailoring) +4 (2 ranks) * * (P) Craft (weaponsmith) +6 (4 ranks) * * Knowledge (arcana) +6 (4 ranks) * * Knowledge (nature) +6 (4 ranks) * * Knowledge (nobility & royalty) +4 (0 ranks) [+2 from Court Raised] * * Spellcraft +6 (4 ranks) * Dexterity-Linked (+1) * * (CbF) Hide +3 (2 ranks) * Constitution-Linked (+0) [¨C2 from Court Raised] * * Concentration +4 (4 ranks) * * (P) Control Shape * * Strong Heart +4 (4 ranks) * Strength-Linked (¨C1) [¨C2 from Court Raised] * * (P) Climb * Linguistics +2 (2 ranks) * Tales & Legends +3 (1 trait) Welp, time to wake up Torden and pass out myself. I won¡¯t be able to look at my character sheet in this kind of privacy until I get back home, but I look forward to finding out what I can snag for Hit Die 2 traits! *** Thankfully the walk back down was without any of the excitement we had on the way UP. Not because we didn¡¯t see anything, more than once we noticed shadows retreating on the cliffs above us, or animals scrabbling up the steep sides to get away from us. Yep, more wolves moved in. In hindsight, it was probably because of the dozens of warriors following on our heels, scaring away the local wildlife. Not that I minded. Even unable to secretly open my character sheet and poke around, I can still cast summon weapon, and I figure out that I picked up the 1st-level Trickery spell because I don¡¯t get the ¡°draining¡± feeling I once had from using it. By just dicking around I get up past a dozen different weapons in a day, having lost count, before I drop the activity having grown bored of it. Evidently, Borden re-tasked one of the rear-most Skr?pn towers after we left, since I hear a smacking log-drum resounding from them shortly after they come into sight. Guess he wanted to know the instant we came back. Then I notice, at the base of the trail going into the farms long after it split from the creek, a pair of oversized figures hanging from logs driven into the ground. I lose sight of them as the trail dips down below the top of a hill, before it lazily curves around to pass between the¡­crucifixions? What the hell is going on? I try to ask Torden about it before they came back in sight, but he just looks at me confused, ¡°I wasn¡¯t looking that way brother, so I did not see what you did.¡± Well an hour later as our trail crests over the low saddle and turns to become the same trail, I see it again, up close and personal as we pass by them. On either side of the trail are two logs imbedded in the ground, having been dragged here from across the denuded ground, since they look pretty fresh. Pity the 9 foot tall corpses hanging between each by the wrists, lashed to the tops of the logs, can¡¯t have the same said about them. They look half torn apart, most of their flesh and bowels laying splayed open and obviously missing, as their heads hunch over towards their chests. It takes me a bit to realize WHAT I am looking at, and passing by way to close for my gorge¡¯s comfort. These are OGRE corpses, like that thing that nearly killed Torden when we escaped the stone giants! I am about to ask Torden if he recognizes them, but when I see him white-knuckling the handle of Mister Slammy with a feral grimace, I realize that he does. And that it is best NOT to re-open old wounds. Then the cheers start, shocking Torden out of his rage and myself out of my own funk. Looking in the direction of the din as it wells up from further down the trail, I see much of the village has turned out to cheer us on, probably drawn by the thumping of the watch-tower drum. I can already pick out Borden and Freygi waving at us from the trail¡¯s end, with Badrik off to the side arms crossed and sulking like the angsty teenager he is. Then I see Venradik and Aedirboa, as I catch a bit of her voice calling to me with her hands around her mouth, trying to amplify her shout. Poking Torden in the side with my elbow to get him moving again, I look up to him as he looks down to me, a joyous smile on BOTH our faces. We did it, we are HOME. *** Sitting down with the entire extended family at the Jarl¡¯s table that night, with my hips pleasantly aching from my PRIVATE homecoming earlier, I see that Torden is already there with a young woman beside him. Isn¡¯t that the girl that rejected him all those years ago? WHAT was her name again? All I remember is Borden¡¯s nickname, ¡°little status-hunting bitch¡±. Back on Earth we would call her a ¡°gold-digging THOT¡± . Raising an expensive horn-handled wooden mug from where he is sitting on his throne, Borden shouts out to us in joyful welcome, ¡°Aaaahhh Laughash my son, and his WONDERFUL wife Aedirboa, come sit down! Freygi has had her apprentice-wives frying sliced boar back, and baking honeyed apple stew, ever since the tower watch sighted your arrival. Best not let her efforts be wasted, or I won¡¯t hear the end of it! ¡± Freygi, sitting beside him and smiling innocently, pulls herself up in her chair from having just OBVIOUSLY kicked him under the table. Since he¡¯s grinning at her, he¡¯s obviously not UPSET about it, though. On the other side of Borden sits Badrik then Venradik, with two empty seats towards the other end of the table, which the two of us take. The far side of the table is taken up by Freygi, Torden, and¡­ummm¡­.his female companion. WHAT was her NAME, again? Oh well, at least Venradik is here to keep Badrik from messing with me, since she¡¯s taking HIS usual place at the table. Now that I have a chance to think about it, writing this in bed as my wonderful wife listens to me dictate it, this means that usually it is ME at Borden¡¯s left-hand in the seating order. Then Torden and Badrik, after Freygi, on his right-hand side. I always thought sitting on that side of the table without any of his other family was just a sign of my place as the ADOPTED son, but from what my wife has said to me it is actually a sign of how much he relies on me, sitting on the same side as her OTHER advisor. Hey, does this mean that Badrik is being relegated to the role of a mere advisor, or just that the table wasn¡¯t that long? ¡°So my son, Torden has told me what HE wants as a reward for bringing this alliance to bear fruit, and with GIANTS coming to our aid no less! But I have not had a chance to ask you what it is that YOU wish to have? Hopefully your desires are more reasonable .¡± I see Torden give his father a brief frustrated side-eye, before going back to pay attention to¡­¡°her¡±. Aaahhhh¡­it IS the same girl, and Borden STILL doesn¡¯t like her, but Torden carries a torch for the ¡°forbidden fruit¡± and has decided to take this chance to pluck it! Thinking quickly, using taking a bite of the crispy butter-fried bacon as a way to buy time, I try to come up with something. Hmmmmm¡­baaaaaconnnn¡­ I KNEW that taming those boars was a good idea! Hey, now THERE¡¯S an idea. With a swallow followed by a swig of apple-juice-flavored small water, ¡°Like Torden mentioned, these giants want bronze in exchange for their help, but we have SO MUCH of it. And while I can¡¯t seem to get another thunder-rod to work, that doesn¡¯t mean it is useless, not given how much THEY want it! So I would just ask for one cartload of the several that we have collected, for my own tinkering with, and that my home is expanded to place it within. Otherwise it will be hard to work with it when it snows!¡± Borden laughs his relief at my simple request, ¡°DONE! I will task the carpenters to start work on your home tomorrow, and you can choose any of the leather-covered wagons that you wish to fill it with. At least you didn¡¯t ask for my permission to do something STUPID!¡± Yep, there¡¯s Torden¡¯s glare again. Borden, if you are trying to talk him OUT of this, you are NOT going about it the right way. I feel Aedirboa¡¯s breath lightly against my ear as I am taking another drink, ¡°The stupid idea¡¯s name is Segg.¡± Then I cough up and nearly spray drink from my nose, from the humor of that, before looking back into the cup with a sudden pang of heartache. Pia used to do that kind of thing at the monthly Sunday dinner with the game gang. Not ALL the time¡­she would make sure to surprise me with it. Then I feel Aedirboa squeeze my arm to pull me out of my thoughts, and back to the present. Looking at her with a smile, I can only think, Most guys don¡¯t get this lucky ONCE, let alone TWICE! I¡¯ll give Segg this though; at least all those braids match my brother¡¯s dreadlocks . Trying to stay out of the family drama, I decide to ask Borden about something that has been bugging me, ¡°So father, I saw some INTERESTING scenery on our way back into the village. Where did they come from?¡± ¡°Ah, you must mean the ogres! No need to dance around the bonfire son, I doubt our woman¡¯s stomachs are so weak to be upset over a little man¡¯s-talk,¡± He cuts out with a deep belly laugh before continuing, as young brides-to-be bring out fruit-baked bread for the next course, the prior batch taking the remaining meats home for their own families. Yep, that¡¯s right, evidently Vikings recycle. Tearing a hunk of bread in half, he takes a bite from its steaming innards before continuing, ¡°I thought that we would have more people coming in than we could put under a roof, and it takes too long to build a longhouse. So we could use some TEMPORARY housing, capable of keeping our visitors safe through the winter. I remember the mahgahto you made when we fought the troll, and so I sent out the warriors from that time with a carpenter to look it over, and figure out how you did it. It wasn¡¯t the most COMFORTABLE place, but it kept us all safe and warm for much of the winter, so if we could build them in the hills behind town¡­why not? The worst that could happen is that they run into a few wolf-men in the place, and have to clean it out. Or at least that is what I THOUGHT was the worst! ¡± Borden takes another bite of his bread, while I swallow the bite I had been chewing and then comment, ¡°I take it from the way the story is going, that you are admitting to being WRONG father? ¡± He washes his mouthful down, then grins as he replies, ¡°We are not MARRIED Laughash, I have NO need to make any such false admission to keep the peace. Anyway, what happened was, (damn woman that one HURT) that it HAD been filled with wolf-men¡­until the OGRES came and ate them! I found out about this AFTERWARDS, sadly, being out of town cutting the woods further back. Thankfully they had enough wisdom to send somebody back to town after the fight was over, so that Venradik and Sikan could stitch together the worst of the wounded, so nobody died. A couple of them won¡¯t be walking again until closer to winter, but they didn¡¯t DIE. ¡°So I took a few of the fresher-cut logs, and we dragged them to the trailhead east of town, while I sent a crew to follow after the two of them and retrieve the bodies. With so many warriors being welcomed into our home from that old bastard Vorn, I have NO ideas what his worm-nest of a mind might have planned, so it would be best if they didn¡¯t think we would just roll over and present our bellies to their teeth! Yes, I see the look, I know that NOW we are allies¡­but I am not going to put my people¡¯s lives at stake on a bet against HIS good will,¡± with that he savagely bites down on the remainder of his loaf, taking his frustrations out on helpless bread. The rest of the dinner passes without such heavy conversation, but at least Torden wasn¡¯t the brunt of Borden¡¯s rough teasing for most of it. Freygi made sure to needle ME over not giving her grandchildren yet, much to Aedirboa¡¯s red-faced embarrassment and Torden¡¯s amusement. Although Badrik spent the rest of the meal looking like he just ate a turd after she brought the subject up. We split up late into the night, promising to meet up the next evening for a council of war, and I walk home with Aedirboa on my arm. ¡°Husband, I¡¯m sorry that we are just the two of us, I know that you miss having a child to raise,¡± Aiderboa says once we are inside, having walked back quietly the whole way. Uh oh, mother-in-law guilt trip alert. After putting our jackets on the pegs beside the door, I pull her into my arms, ¡°No apology is needed love, it will happen when it happens. And at least we won¡¯t have to worry about a newborn while ALSO fighting a war, and in WINTER!¡± Pulling her back until I can see her face, I tilt up her gently crying face and say with a smile, ¡°Besides, I do NOT think of you as a replacement, and when we DO have children neither will they be. I love you for YOU, Boa. Not for what you can give me¡­OR Freygi,¡± the last bit I said with a wink. *** The next morning I get up and quietly use prestidigitation to warm up some water for a whore¡¯s bath, before going to sit at the front room table and call up my character sheet. Time to see what I can do after leveling up. By the time Aedirboa wakes up to see the now-familiar sight of me poking at mid-air, I¡¯ve only selected Eldritch Soul again for one of my two Hit Die 2 traits. Even if I have to wait thousands of years before Pia is even BORN, I still need the magic to survive this upcoming winter¡­AND to protect Aedirboa! She sets a bowl of overnight stew and a mug of small bear on the table for me, before joining me with her own, ¡°So what secrets of the world attracted my husband¡¯s attention this morning?¡± ¡°I ¡®leveled up¡¯, gaining the opportunity for even MORE abilities, on the trip back. I am looking at what I can currently access for doing so, and trying to remember what I can of the options from The Harrowed Earth.¡± I admit it; I was kind of lost in experimentation, and replying on autopilot. Aedirboa must have noticed, since she waves a hand in front of my face to distract me, ¡°EAT husband, then you can explain to me what you have found, once you are not doing it hungry and distracted!¡± I laugh, thinking ¡°Just like Pia used to do whenever I would get caught up in the bookkeeping for the ranch.¡± Yeah, lucky as the devil TWICE in one lifetime! Or is it two, since I died and was isekai¡¯d? After eating my late-morning breakfast, I snuggle up to Aedirboa¡¯s side, and try to explain what I¡¯ve discovered, ¡°I get two traits for going up a Hit Die, which I already described to you, as well as a saving throw point to put wherever I want. However, much like skill points, I can only select ranks that I can JUSTIFY taking, with my actions since the time I gained my prior Hit Die. Only I cannot spend time ¡®training¡¯ to gain new traits to access, unlike with skill points, what options I have now are ALL I will get for this Hit Die! So far I have taken another ¡®Eldritch Soul,¡¯ since more magic means more options for this winter¡¯s war, but I still need to select my OTHER trait as well as the bonuses these traits give me, like spells. Unfortunately, I am at a loss as to which to take, love.¡± She seems to have adapted well to the untranslatable English terms. Looking curious, Aedirboa gets up to get us another couple drinks, saying as she does, ¡°So what ¡®TRAY-tee¡¯ options DO you have? Maybe I can give some insight, as the town¡¯s healer.¡± ¡°Well darling, I¡¯m afraid it isn¡¯t much, but at least the selection is VARIED!,¡± I reply with admittedly child-like enthusiasm. ¡°I¡¯ve got Combat Bonuses, probably from all the fighting against wolves and bears, which would make me harder to hurt and my own attacks a little more reliable, but NOTHING else. ¡°Then there is Enduring, which will make it harder for me to get sick AND give me a touch more skill points. ¡°Unexpectedly, but probably not in hindsight, I can pick up Era Adaptation. In addition to a single additional skill point, this trait just lets me utilize ¡®Craft¡¯ skills for more advanced technology¡­but all it would do at the moment is just remove SOME of the penalties that I have. ¡°Loremaster is an interesting one, letting me increase my strength of will, but ALSO giving me a nice block of skill points¡­sadly, for skills that I don¡¯t really need to invest in at the moment, nor have the option to train up. ¡°Speaking of skill points my BEST option would be Wildman, again, but other than the large lump of skill points I don¡¯t get access to much in the way of useful skill selections unless I¡¯m hunting. ¡°I had THOUGHT I would unlock some other options too, but I guess I didn¡¯t do enough these past couple months to access them. Which is a pity, another Skillful, or a Mystic Studies, and I could have gained some magical bonuses,¡± so with a sigh I look down from the roof I had been staring at, only to see my wife looking at me like I am an idiot. ¡°Laughash, I know that in comparison to the world of your memories we must seem like the basest of savages, but ANYTHING you can show us how to do such things as you remember would be nearly-divine revelation to US! So what if this ¡®Era¡¯ thingie just makes it easier for you to make what YOU would consider toys, it was those toys of yours on the towers that kept us all from being dog food LAST winter!,¡± she puts the back of a hand to her forehead, teasingly. ¡°Oh woe, for such TOYS to save us this winter¡­how EVER would we survive the embarrassment!¡± With a chagrined chuckle I reach out to make the selection, ¡°Alright woman, you can stop poking at my manhood, I get that I was being a jerk. You¡¯ve made your point, I¡¯m taking it already!¡± ¡°Good! Now, I have to go tend to the injured from the ogres a few days ago, and then I have a couple mothers-to-be to check up on. I¡¯ll leave you to playing with your TOYS, and don¡¯t wake me when you get back in late tonight from the Jarl¡¯s...I have to be up early tomorrow to go mushroom picking,¡± with that she finishes getting dressed, grabs her medical bag, and leaves after a quick kiss. Later that night I head to the Jarl¡¯s fortress for the war council, having advanced my character sheet as much as I could, to provide what assistance I can for the winter. I made MOST of my decisions with this winter¡¯s war in mind, but a couple for more¡­personal reasons. I am NOT going to risk my new family this winter! I can use endure elements to keep us all safe from the WORST of the winter cold, and cure minor wounds is just obviously a good idea. Unfortunately I don¡¯t think my ¡°Trickery¡± domain spell disguise self is going to be too terribly useful . I will see what I can do for skill points over the summer, just in case something comes up. Oh, and I put that base saving throw point into Fortitude again¡­I noticed certain ¡°benefits¡± from last time, and want to see if it helps me out in bed even MORE. Don¡¯t judge me, you¡¯d do it too. So with a thought to my new abilities, and how to utilize them to prepare for winter, I enter the Jarl¡¯s longhouse. Time to make the donuts! NAME: Laughash RACE: Human SUBRACE: Primitive AGE: 16.3 years HIT DIE: 2 ECL: 2 XP TO NEXT LEVEL: 1,337/3,000 [cannot level up until skill points are spent] SAVING THROWS: Fort +1 (2), Ref +3 (0), Will +5 (2). +3 vs. Fear. SPECIAL ABILITIES * Trickery Domain spells (0th-level are free if any uses remain): 2 per day. TRAITS (Mystical Hero): * Favored: Skillful ¡Á1 * HD 1: Eldritch Soul ¡Á1 * HD 1: Wildman ¡Á1 * HD 1: Loremaster ¡Á1 * HD 2: Eldritch Soul ¡Á2 * HD 2: Era Adaptation ¡Á1 SPELLCASTING: +1 save DCs for Illusion except ¡°phantasms¡±. * Chosen by Fate CL 2 (+3), Max SL 1st. * * 0th: cure minor wounds, summon weapon; 1st: disguise self Cure Minor Wounds (Conj): Heal check to cure 1 Str or Con damage. [Healing] Disguise Self (Ill): Disguise your appearance. Summon Weapon (Conj): Creates a non-magical mundane weapon you are familiar with. [Summon] * Eldritch Soul CL 2 (+2), Max SL 1st. Spell Level Pool Points: 18 (0th-Level are free) * * 0th: acid splash, detect magic, flare, prestidigitation; 1st: color spray, endure elements, mage armor Acid Splash (Evoc): Orb deals 1d3 (+7 Breaking the Limits) damage [to Con]. [Acid] Color Spray (Ill): Knocks unconscious, blinds, and/or stuns 1d6 (+6 Breaking the Limits) weak creatures [Material Consumed (colored red, yellow, and blue sand or powder)]. [Mind-Affecting; DC 14 Will save] Detect Magic (Div): Detects spells and magic items within 60 ft. (+7 Knowledge:arcana and Spellcraft checks Breaking the Limits) Endure Elements (Abj): Ignores 5 (+6 Breaking the Limits) damage each round from one energy type, and a secondary effect. [see text] Flare: Creature is blinded or dazzled. [DC 13 Fortitude] [Fire, Light] Mage Armor (Conj): Gives subject +4 (+6 Breaking the Limits) armor bonus [Focus Needed (piece of cured leather)]. [Force] Prestidigitation (Universal): Performs minor tricks. (+7 to relevant skill checks Breaking the Limits). *** Turns out I am not the last to arrive, THAT honor goes to Torden¡­surprising since he LIVES in the longhouse. I hope THAT doesn¡¯t indicate something rotten in the state of Denmark. Oh who am I kidding¡­of COURSE it means trouble behind the scenes! While waiting for my older brother to arrive, I¡¯m entertaining Borden by holding hot coals from the fireplace in the room, while Venradik looks like he¡¯s fed up babysitting idiots. After I shove a lit torch down the front of my britches and start doing a belly-dance, just because Borden said I wouldn¡¯t, I have to acknowledge that Venradik MAY have a point. Thankfully shortly after that Torden arrives, and after a puzzled look tries DESPERATELY not to notice me shamefully pulling it out and putting it back in the sconce. ¡°Now that all my advisors are here, everybody make room on the table for the maps,¡± Borden calls over his shoulder as he moves into the back to grab the rolled-up goat skins on which we made maps last year. After he quickly returns, the rest of us are standing around the table. The chairs having been moved to the sides of the room, to more easily walk around as he lays the map skins on the table. Then, pulling a box out from under his arm, he starts putting down¡­war game figures? Carved mock-ups of the Sk?rpn towers, men with bows, men with swords across their shields, and even a few sticks carved into wall segments that he arranges over the walls drawn on the map. ¡°Do you like them? I had one of the carpenters make them as a winter project, after we spent so much time marking up the skin. Laughash can¡¯t be here to remove the marks ALL the time, after all,¡± Borden says with the light and joy of a child having discovered a new toy. God no¡­I¡¯ve turned the local king into a wargaming nerd! From a quick glance at Torden and Venradik, I¡¯m the only one embarrassed at Borden¡¯s ¡°discovery¡±. They seem EXCITED, particularly Torden. Like father and all that, I guess. While I¡¯m trying to hold in my atomic levels of cringe, we start discussing the preparations for this winter¡¯s war. The star of the show is Venradik, who announces that he has figured out a way to process ¡°the yellow dust¡± from stones in QUANTITY, using the smithy. So our bottleneck on making black powder becomes ¡°head salt¡± from the fermenting brains of the gnolls, which should accelerate now that the ground is warming up. Unfortunately, this means that I won¡¯t be able to experiment around to try and make more firearms or cannons, now that I have my era increased to reduce the penalties for doing so, since my little free time will be taken up with black powder production. But Torden has the bright idea of hollowing out the tree stumps in the cleared land, and turning them into gigantic grenades, that can be set off with flaming arrows. He would make a good demolitions man, back on Earth . Borden likes that idea, but is concerned about the strength of our walls, and what to do with the prior-year¡¯s killing ground now that the enemy knows of the pungi-pits, ¡°The big problem we had in the LAST war was not being able to get all the warriors involved, because the wall funneled the enemy into a smaller area¡­and this year we have even MORE warriors! They have axes, what if they just make their OWN hole in the wall now that they know not to take the bait?¡± ¡°Fear not Borden, the giants that are coming will build our new walls from STONE, and twice as high as those we have now. I even have an idea on how to block their access to the village through the creek-side. I suggest that we focus on finding new uses for all the logs that make up our CURRENT wall, you mentioned needing shelter for the warriors from J¨¢rn? What if we set them to making shelters out of the wall¡¯s logs similar to the mahgahto?,¡± but despite my attempts to reassure him, Borden looks uneasy. ¡°I am overjoyed that you two managed to find allies to help us prepare for winter Laughash, but I do not think it wise to put all our lives on the quality of their work, and the promises of its usefulness,¡± he says with furrowed brows. ¡°Father, you know me, and when I say that this WILL work, please trust me on this.¡± C¡¯mon old man, trust my ¡°other future memories¡±¡­ He looks in my eyes inscrutably for a solid minute, the room silent, ¡°Very well son, you haven¡¯t been wrong on this kind of thing before. Tomorrow I will have you start directing our allies on building their shelters, with Torden observing.¡± He then turns to look at my brother, ¡°Torden you need to learn how to make mahgahtos, so that when these giants arrive Laughash and myself can direct their efforts. We have people trickling in for the next tenday, if not longer, and will NEED the room for them!¡± Not much of note gets done beyond that, and the conference ends early, with Torden asking to talk with me as we walk outside of the Jarl¡¯s fortress, ¡°Laughash, I am marrying Segg, but father STILL doesn¡¯t approve of it, even after our successes in J¨¢rn. He trusts your advice; do you have any that you could give me?¡± After thinking about it for a minute, ¡°Yes Torden, I do. Marry somebody ELSE. Father has no problem with you getting married, just your choice in BRIDE.¡± After a minute of thought of his own he replies, with a pained of his own, ¡°I cannot do that, I LOVE her. I have been with several women, but SHE is the only one that puts a flame in my chest, instead of just my manhood. I honestly cannot imagine having children with any other. Can you talk to father on my behalf, in this?¡± ¡°Well then brother, you are fucked. Borden trusts my advice because I never purposefully mislead him, and if I were to tell him to accept Segg as his oldest son¡¯s bride I would be doing exactly that! I know that you care for her Torden, but she is NOT a good bride. She cares nothing for YOU, only for your position as the prince, or have you forgotten WHY we went into the mountains and were made slaves?,¡± yeah, I know it is a low blow, but I¡¯d rather not see Torden heartbroken WORSE later. ¡°I know what she is Laughash, I know. I remember that night, and I remember the mines. Honestly I think some of the girls who treated to me there would make BETTER wives, but I never¡­felt¡­ANYTHING for them. Despite their best efforts to inflame my passions. Even if she only cares about the prince, and not the man, *I* care for HER. Which is more than I can say for any other woman, I can see SEGG alone bearing my children,¡± Torden says, with an anguished sigh. So I stop him with a hand on his arm, turning him so he can see my face in the moonlight as we talk, ¡°I know what you are saying, and I understand. But I am TELLING you that this path will NOT lead to a happy married life like your parents have, but to misery. Even if I am not the most versed in the mind of females, I am NOT stupid enough to advise marrying a woman who doesn¡¯t even care about me!¡± Torden shakes his arm from my grip, anger on his face, before hissing out, ¡°I WILL marry Segg even if father doesn¡¯t approve, even if YOU don¡¯t! She WILL be my wife!¡± Great, he¡¯s whipped . As Torden storms off in anger I hustle to catch up to him, ¡°Do not misunderstand me Torden, I don¡¯t think this is a GOOD idea, and WILL warn against it. But if you are determined to marry her I will NOT make you miserable over it! You are my brother, Borden¡¯s son, and we BOTH just want you to be happy¡­even if we think you are being a fool.¡± Torden stops in the village path and hangs his head in resignation, ¡°Thank you brother, I get it, even if my short temper doesn¡¯t. And if this DOES look to be becoming a disaster, please help me try and prevent it, agreed?¡± I just pat him on the back and smile; walking him to the small area where he is building his own marriage home, to the leather tent set up in the frame of the house. Saying goodbye to each other, I head home myself. DAMN glad that Aedirboa isn¡¯t like Segg. *** Over the next few days Torden and I are making giant log-based lean-tos, but with the logs being shorter than I originally used they wind up more like half-sided teepees. The new warriors pick up the trick of using a rope to climb the central timber and cut grooves easy enough, but it is a LOT of sweat-equity to lift the logs to fit into them! Thankfully Torden is as strong as any two of them, and more than happy to push upwards on a log once it is hoisted high enough for him to get under it. After some thought, we put the ¡°open¡± side of the teepees facing outside of the village, in a line where they will be facing the new wall. That way fires lit between them in the winter will warm the stone, letting it radiate heat back INTO the teepee, to keep them warmer. The bases of the logs, long since denuded of branches, are filled by another crew with gravel-filled clay, letting it dry out into a pseudo-brick, for the next layer(s) to be added until the gaps are filled. We have the process running smoothly, each work crew following the others as we make them, like an assembly-line, instead of the usual custom of doing something in a whole piece then starting the next. Torden laughed at my foolishness not completing one before starting the next, but by the time the third one was fully-finished on the third day his laughter had stopped. Hah, welcome to the industrial revolution, you primitive screw-heads! Then the giants arrived, walking in from the mountains to the east. The Sk?rpn tower converted to a watchtower doesn¡¯t stop thumping its drum, the watcher likely panicking when the MOUNTAINSIDE started walking towards him! Sighing over it, I tell Torden that it looks like I¡¯m off the teepee project, but he reassures me that he can keep it going. I¡¯m still surprised that such a mountain of a man likes to do woodworking¡­and is GOOD at it! By the time I make it to the other end of the village, Borden is atop the other Sk?rpn tower, talking with the Ferkad. He looks down and spots me, before bellowing out a happy laugh, ¡°So this IS the correct village! My apologies, we got lost, and thought that the abandoned village on that lake south of here was Askfj?r, and had to go back to J¨¢rn for directions!¡± I guess their home isn¡¯t north of J¨¢rn then, otherwise they would have run into the line of warriors trickling in¡­good to know. ¡°Welcome Ferkad! Best late than never making it, am I right?,¡± I shout at him, as I start to climb up the tower to meet him eye-to-eye. ¡°Yes, I guess it is, little prince. As promised I have brought a few craftsmen to make the wall, and a shaman to tend to their needs, as well as sheep enough to kept us fed for a few tendays. Some of our fellows will be bringing more later, and be taking back the first half of the payment for our services,¡± he says with a reassuring tone, waving his hand behind him to the other giants. ¡°So only the work to be done, and the price for it, needs to be discussed. Where would you like us to quarry the stone from, to build the wall?¡± And so we walk Ferkad to where the wall is being converted, and use a branch in the dirt to finalize the design. The edge of the mountain to the north-west of town, and the one which the creek passes by, is to be shaved down for the quarried stone. A long flat tube is to built over the creek, to prevent swimmers making it through without drowning, with a flat top that can be accessed at several points by trap doors to clean out anything stuck on the pylons beneath. The top of the wall is to be crenelated, with extra-wide platforms where the stairs up meet the wall, so we can emplace more siege engines. Borden is impressed with the description of the wall to be made, and after the giants start sheering off chunks of Cliffside he is confident the description isn¡¯t a false promise. Frankly, I am impressed with his negotiating skills, convincing them to take one wagon load of bronze weapons up front, and two more when finished, leaving two for us. One of which is MINE! Despite my misconceptions, once the deal is made it is the shaman that directs the work, while Ferkad plays shepherd for the herds of sheep, sitting down and using a staff made from an entire tree to keep them from running off into the forest. Normally we don¡¯t let the village goats graze on that land, even before we removed the trees, out of fear of wolves and other predators. But after Ferkad sends an overly-confident ogre flying with a swat of his staff, to turn into a windshield bug against the mountainside, it becomes obvious that HE doesn¡¯t need to worry about that sort of thing. As the village¡¯s representative, and one of the few that can speak Giant, I spend my days for much of the spring hanging out with the giant¡¯s shaman, whose name is Sekim. He is an older-looking ¡°frost¡± giant larger than any of the others, even though he moves with the careful slow pace of an elderly man close to the end of his life. It takes me a bit to break his disinterested shell, but once I introduce him to chess he opens up. Sheesh, this guy is just¡­jaded and BORED? How old IS he? But not all is good with our over-sized guests. After the pit before the old wall, that is to serve as a foundation, is expanded and the first of the wall stones emplaced; the workers bring out bags made from sheep leather filled with human skeletons, and ANIMATE them to then carry smaller stones to fill the gaps! Yeah, no wonder people freaked the fuck out¡­I was! Sekim and Ferkad are obviously confused when the villagers of Askf?r start nearly rioting over the sudden appearance of the undead¡­as they begin building a wall. Seems to THEM that there is little difference between the living and the ¡°sleeping dead.¡± Since the giants keep their own in great galleries, so that their descendants can come to them for advice. And they offer a similar service to those from J¨¢rn, who do not want to leave their families without aid in the winter; they offer their bones for small work like this in exchange for being allowed to guard the borders of their old home in the depths of winter. It takes some effort to negotiate a compromise. The giants will have the undead work at night, since evidently their animation is a temporary effect, keeping them away from the Askfj?r villagers, even though the J¨¢rn villagers don¡¯t seem to mind. Well it IS their ancestors, after all. It is after this unpleasant revelation that I am standing on the giant-sized chess board, using quickly-carved logs made by Torden as playing piees with Sekim, when Aedirboa brings me lunch, showing off her newly-developed telekinetic abilities to carry them floating beside her. With a curious tone he says, ¡°I did not know that your village had access to mind-magic. Tell me little human, what can YOU do, how did you discover these gifts?¡± As I am eating some meat-filled bread, and pluck the drink mug from the air, she pecks me on the cheek before answering with her loudest voice, ¡°Actually I am half elf, my father, and seem to take after him. He also had powers like this but not much of them. It was after I met Laughash here that I was able to figure out how to do more than make snow-lights! He knows a LOT about ALL kinds of magic, and is always interested in learning more.¡± Sheesh, good thing she doesn¡¯t have pom-poms! ¡°Huh, curious, and your father passed these gifts to you? Laughash and I will have to talk about this later, it will be a pleasant topic to cover in the days ahead, but YOU I only have at the moment to annoy with my questions ,¡± he said with jovial curiosity. As she opens her mouth to reply, I touch her arm to stop her, before casting prestidigitation, to magnify her voice and give her a nodding wave to keep talking. ¡°Well I can only do minor things compared to my husband. I can do snow-lights and small rays of sunlight, enough to light a cook fire but that is about it. Recently, with his assistance, I managed to make hands in my mind that I can use to move things, so long as they are small and I don¡¯t need them to move terribly fast. But for NOW, I must get back to the village, there is a woman going through a rough labor that I need to check up on,¡± then bowing her head in a courteous nod to him, she leaves me alone with Sekim. Speaking in Giant to my somewhat acquaintance, my voice long since magnified by magic, ¡°I am the luckiest man in this or any other world.¡± I said absent-mindedly with a dreamy longing look at my wife as she walks away, knowing that she heard every word. And so did all the people in the area, thanks to the volume. Sekim roars with laughter before replying, ¡°Yes my small friend that you CERTAINLY are! So I take it she is a healer here in your village?¡± ¡°Yeah, we were both raised to be healers, but my life took another path whereas her interest in patching people together never waned. It is funny though, MY magic permits me to fix up scrapes and small things like that, yet HER¡¯S is focused on destruction. I know she has the physical capacity to share her health with others, but still can¡¯t quite ¡®get¡¯ how to make it work.¡± Moving around the field with our chess statues set up, Sekim grunts as he sits his old stone bones down, ¡°Fate is a fickle thing. I myself have very little in the way of healing magic, largely because it takes SO MUCH to put us back together when we are broken that it just¡­.doesn¡¯t seem worth it. Better that I use my magic to make stone easier to quarry, and give blessings, so that such injuries occur less frequently to start with!¡± I glance up at him out of the side of my eye, grinning, ¡°A pebble of prevention is worth a boulder of healing, is it?¡± He gives out a pained chuckle at my wise-crack, adapted from an Earth saying. ¡°Yes little sage, I must say that for somebody so young you have impressive insights into the nature of the world. Which brings up something that she said, which has stuck in my mind¡­,¡± Sekim trails off with a leading tone in his voice, and a smirking side-eye down at me. Sighing I give in to the inevitable. No point trying to distract him anymore, he¡¯s like a dog with a fresh bone, ¡°Yes Sekim, I have put together a LOT of lore on the nature of magic, its sources, and uses. Some from personal experience, some from legends heard around the campfire, and some from seeing its use by others. However I am NOT some all-knowing oracle, just a clever guy who can see that water flows downhill, no matter where the river runs from.¡± ¡°Hmmm¡­an apt comparison, now that I think of it. But what of the similarities in divine and natural magic, and how so often one can access similar powers with mind-magic?,¡± he asks, starting our impromptu think-tank. Ever collaborate on making a magical lexicon of spells with a giant? I recommend it, actually. We spent days with goat-skins and charcoal sticks, making a master list of spells and how hard they are to achieve in different ways. I contribute what I can remember from my fading memories of The Harrowed Earth rule book, and he contributes his decades of experience with their psychic necromancy and his own divine magic. Not comprehensive, by a LONG shot, but far more than I had from looking at potential spells with my Eldritch Soul selections¡­and doubtlessly helpful in my future. We also cut a deal. I¡¯ll make a copy of it on their sheepskins, in exchange for a map of the area as they know it, including the settlements of both humans AND non-humans. He will have it delivered before winter starts, giving me time to tan his sheepskins and copy the text over to them, since he has to use the records they have back at their village to copy the map from anyway. The one they have is giant-sized, after all, and it will take animated skeletons a WHILE to copy it all over onto one skin accurately! Then, when the wall is close to completion, tragedy happens. *** I am with the tanner delivering the latest batch of sheep skins from the giants¡¯ lunch. They eat surprisingly little for beings so big, maybe their biology is augmented by magic? When EVERYBODY in the village hears the deep resounding of soul-wracking pain echo around the place, bouncing from mountain to mountain, and slowly dying down to an unholy wail. Running outside of the awning where the tanned skins are curing, I look backwards towards the forest and the wall, a sick suspicion in my gut. I can see giants¡¯ heads running towards the back near the cliff-side, where something has crushed the top-layer of the first section of the wall. I also see birds flying up from the forest in the distance; at least I am guessing they are birds because at THIS distance it is more like a haze of smoke rising into the air over the whole place. Then I begin running, hell-for-leather, to the collapsed section of the wall! I get there just after Torden and Borden, and we watch as Ferkad is sitting there on the ground crying, holding Sekim¡¯s head in his hands and trying to reassure him. The two of them surrounded by the handful of giants in the work crew standing there in a circle, with depressed looks on their faces, ¡°whispering¡± to each other in Giant. It wouldn¡¯t matter if they were talking at their normal felt-in-the-bones volume, since only Torden and I can speak the language¡­and Torden is FAR out of practice in comparison to me! Sekim is alive, nothing dead could whimper in pain that much, but his leg is SHATTERED. The bone of his femur poking out through the flesh of his thigh, and the leather of his sheepskin robe, the leather having formed an impromptu bandage¡­but not COMPLETELY stopping the bleeding from the pressure created by his massive heart. I pick up the words being spoken by the giants, saying how Sekim is going to die, and arguing if they should make it fast. Complaints about how if he dies away from home he will be lost, unable to enter the vaults of their ancestors, and his spirit being doomed to an eternity of darkness. Wonderings about if they can get him back home in time for him to die and his soul saved, but the impression I get is that these are more forlorn hopes than a serious proposition. Walking slowly to put a hand each on Ferkad¡¯s thigh and Sekim¡¯s cheek, I solemnly ask, ¡°What happened?¡± Then repeat the question in the giant¡¯s language, since the shock of the event has evidently made them forget the human language of the area. Crying softly Ferkad answers, ¡°I saw it all while I was pushing the sheep to the wall for the night¡¯s grazing. Sekim was on the cliff using his magic to soften the stone, as usual, from atop the steps of the prior times, when the stone beneath him cracked and broke. He fell twice his height before he hit the wall¡¯s top with is outstretched leg, and it just¡­crushed. Then he screamed as he fell the rest of the way, but I think it slowed him down enough that he did not die outright when he hit the ground. Still though, this kind of wound is¡­so many of us over the generations have died from similar injuries. Even with all the shamans of the village healing him, the best they could do is keep him alive but lame, IF he could survive the trip!¡± Then Sekim manages to swallow his pain long enough to grunt out, this time in human language, ¡°Remember we are guests here Ferkad, even if the young prince can speak our language I know I taught you better than this, my prince. Don¡¯t regret my loss, I lived a long life; and in my last years even found something NEW to add to the village, when I thought all novelty long since lost. I can die happy.¡± At some time point in all this Aedirboa showed up, butting in to ask, ¡°So it is merely a broken bone? I¡¯ve lost count of the number of times I¡¯ve fixed these; I can try to fix yours as well. But¡­I will need you to help me do it; he is too big for me to move. Husband, can you ask the other giants to lend me their hands?¡± Hey, I was a bit distracted, with the probably loss of my new friend. I completely forgot that there was a chance to SAVE him! With Borden¡¯s permission, I serving as translator, and Aedirboa uses up nearly her entire supply of pain-numbing drinks before we cut open Sekim¡¯s robe and then YANK his leg back into place with the work-crew¡¯s aid. Even with the barrels of tea he drank, the pain was intense enough to make him cry out with the same world-spanning pain, before passing out with shock. ¡° Good, this is SO much easier when they aren¡¯t awake!,¡± my wife says. Yeeaaahhh¡­I¡¯m NOT translating that. She may be a good medic, but she has SHIT for bedside manner! Once his leg is straight, she tries to cut his skin to reach the bone, but even her sharpest knife cannot do more than scratch the wound. On a hunch I cast summon weapon, and call Laevateinn to me to use its sharper Mithril-edge¡­but still no luck. However thanks to his own strength, Torden can slowly open the leg up with my sword, while the other giants hold Sekim in place as he writhes from the pain even in his sleep. Once the skin around the break is opened, coating her hands and arms in strong mead (I taught her that!), Aedirboa reaches inside to loop mead-soaked ropes around his muscles so that they can be pulled away from the bone by a sweating Borden and Torden, allowing her to finally reach the bone. Then it is a ¡°simple¡± matter of moving the larger pieces back into their proper place, before filling in the smaller parts with the shattered stone-like pieces of the other smaller pieces imbedded in the surrounding muscles. Once it is all set into place she liberally coats the newly-rebuilt bone in honey, to stick it together, before slowly allowing my brother and Jarl to loosen their ropes and put the torn muscles back against the bone. Then, she glues the skin back together with an entire cask of the skin-glue that Venradik taught her to make, before wrapping the wound over in the remains of Sekim¡¯s mead-soaked robe. Wiping the sweat from her face with one blood-smeared hand she says up to Ferkad who has been towering over her this whole time, ¡°There, now he just needs to immobilize the leg for about a handful of tendays. Well, if he was human it would be that long, but I have no idea about giants. Normally I would tie a bunch of branches around the leg with wet ropes, so they will squeeze the leg and keep it together as it heals, but I doubt there is ANY amount of sticks and ropes that can hold THIS together!¡± ¡°So why not use the softened stone he was making when he fell?,¡± I ask. The words slipping out of my mouth before my brain can engage a filter to stop it. How the hell did my wife get THIS skilled, without me noticing?! I feel a hand fall on my shoulder, as Venradik says behind me, ¡°Because she has been the most diligent student I have EVER taught, in ALL my long long years, Laughash. Not even *I* could have done this better, and that trick with the mead is something SHE taught ME! But that doesn¡¯t mean she knows everything.¡± So that is what we do. We dig a hole underneath his leg in his sleep, to clump the clay below him, in a hands-thick cast around his ENTIRE leg AND foot. That way he won¡¯t aggravate the broken bone by standing on the foot, since the stone will transfer the pressure directly to his waist. Recalling John¡¯s own predicament from my time on earth, I direct Ferkad to help me find a tree with a ¡°Y¡± split high enough up to be converted into a crutch, then tear it out of the ground and bring it back for Torden and I to shape it into a giant-sized crutch. There goes most of the village¡¯s remaining rope ALONG with our stockpile of mead¡­better tell Borden to get the old folks to make more. When he wakes up the following day around noon, Sekim is as shocked to be alive, as the other giants working to repair the wall are to hear him shout his pained surprise. By the time I get there from the other side of the wall, where I am marking stumps to be hollowed out for bombs, Aedirboa is already there talking to him, ¡°No you are NOT to move around if possible, not until the pain dies to AT LEAST a dull ache, and if I find you CLIMBING again I will personally kick your giant ass!¡± With a groaning pained chuckle he answers, ¡°Yes ma¡¯am, I will do as you say. I expected never to see the sun again, I have YOU to thank for every sunrise I get from here on, and I will never disrespect that by thinking your words have less weight than my desires.¡± From my vantage point walking towards them I can see Aedirboa¡¯s back curled up, her fists clenched outwards, in a familiar fury¡­thankfully not one ever directed at ME. I can also see Sekim¡¯s face, along with the astonished utter sincerity in it. Then he reaches across his body to gently place a light hand on her back, before saying in whispered gratitude as he looks me in the eyes, ¡°May all the gods of the north grant you and your progeny even half the gift you have given me¡­my eternal friends.¡± And that is how my wonderful wife got us allied to a village of frost giants.