《Balancing Blood (Glory/D&D LitRPG Merger)》 Robert: Rising A voice Robert Gould Shaw knew, having heard it once, but would never forget echoed in his ears, though the words were new, the sentiment and emotion were not. ¡°Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman''s two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said ¡®the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.¡¯¡± ¡°And do you think the blood spilled by the sword in the last five years has matched that drawn by the lash in the last eighty-nine?¡± this voice he did not recognize, it was deep, mocking, cruel. ¡°If not, then I shall pay the bal¡ª¡± He heard a shot, pistol, not rifle and screams, the cruel voice returned. ¡°Accepted, but insufficient, especially given how little the sword was actually used!¡± mocking laughter filled the space around Robert. ¡°You spoke for your nation...who should pay the balance?¡± Silence stretched. Robert tried to speak, but he could not. He could see nothing. He was in total darkness¡ªno, his eyes weren¡¯t open¡ªno, he did not have eyes. ¡°What is the funniest answer?¡± He had no tongue, no lips, no throat. He had no way to speak, or scream. ¡°Oh, yes, that will definitely do. Delightfully obscene.¡± Everything twisted. Blue lights flashed before his eyes, resolving into a floating, translucent blue box. What had happened? He had eyes. When had he not had eyes? What a strange thought. He¡¯d been shot! His hands automatically sought his wounds and found only the cloth of his undamaged uniform. It took a moment for his eyes to focus on the blue box rather than the brilliantly blue sky above, or the green grass underneath him. Hadn¡¯t it just been night? On a beach? Now it was noon, in a field. A river was somewhere off in the distance to the east, he could hear it and there were birds in the trees around the field.
Error-Transfer Limits Exceeded-Tutorial Mode Activated-Tutorial Mode Overloaded-Stat Transfer Complete-Skill Transfer Complete-Background Transfer Complete-Class Choice Override-Random Assignment-Error-Recompense-No Recompense Available At Needed Scale-Skill Mode Selected-Warlock Class Removed-Pact Barred-
He blinked. The box remained in place. The sky overhead was replaced with darkness, as he closed his eyes but the blue box remained. He tried to push it away and his hand just slid through the translucent blue box. It remained in front of him until he read its nonsensical words, then it was replaced with more words.
Name: Robert Gould Shaw Hit Points: 10
Species: Human Strength: 13
Class: Paladin Dexterity: 10
Background: Military Constitution: 10
EXP: 0 Intelligence: 12
Level: 1 Wisdom: 14
Deity: Christian God Charisma: 16
Age: 25 AC: 10
Skills: Persuasion, Religion, Athletics, Intimidation, Martial Weapons, Firearms
Background Feature: Officer (Colonel): Members of the Union Army recognize your rank and subordinates will generally defer to you. You can requisition support and supplies at Army posts.
Species Feature: Human: You gain EXP faster and level faster than more long lived species.
Sense Evil: 4 times per long rest you may invoke your divine senses and become aware of any undead or fiends within 60 feet of you, as well as sense anyone committing an evil act within that radius at the time of invocation.
Lay on Hands: You may heal up to 5 HP per long rest, simply by touching the target and willing it so.
¡°What the dev¡ª¡± Robert muttered and another box popped up.
Error-Automatic Translation Buffer Overload-Error-Searching For Fix-Searching-No Fix-Recompense-No Recompense Available At Given Scale-Alteration-Possible-Recompense-Divine Boon of Translation-
¡°What the¡ª¡± Robert started to stand up and another box appeared.
Congratulations! You are a recipient of the Divine Boon of Translation. You will be able to understand any spoken language you hear, or any language you read [barring unusual circumstances]. You may also mark ten (10) individuals with this boon. Caution, once chosen, the boon cannot be removed! Additional uses may be earned.
¡°Colonel!¡± he turned to see his men stirring around him, dozens of them. More appeared even as he watched, recovering as slowly as he had. But in the distance, he saw about fifteen already standing and moving towards them quickly. They wore the blue coats of Union soldiers, and their dark skin made it obvious they were not secessionists in disguise. Though they were strikingly untidy and their uniforms undone. The box returned.
Error-Starting Equipment Unavailable. Starting Gold: 5d4*10-Rolling-(2+1+3+2+2)*10=100-Error-Gold Supply Limit Exceeded-Recompense-No Recompense Available At Given Scale-Alteration-Recompense For Rogues.
¡°Rogues? What the devil? There are no rogues in my regiment!¡± Robert announced to the heavens which would not stop tormenting him with blue boxes. Gold began to pour out of the air around a number of the fallen men. ¡°Sir!¡± Robert took in the small group of men. He knew them. By face and by name, for he had been reviewing the casualty rolls and ensuring the bodies would be sent home just last night. They were the men who had fallen at James Island. They did not look dead, even if they were decidedly untidy. ¡°Gentlemen,¡± he saluted and Corporal Braugher returned the salute sharply. ¡°Boy are we glad to see you, Colonel. We thought we were alone here.¡± ¡°Ain¡¯t so bad,¡± Private Turnball said. ¡°Plenty of game in the forest.¡± The corporal shot him a look and he shut up. ¡°Sir, what happened after we fell? Did we win?¡± ¡°At James Island? Of course. The rebels ran.¡± All fourteen men began to hoot and holler, lifting their hats and praising the Lord that their sacrifice had not been in vain. Robert considered for a moment. ¡°Ah, gentlemen, did you...see anything when you arrived?¡± ¡°The boxes, you mean, Colonel? Yes, sir, all of us got ¡®em. They¡¯re right weird. The way they show up only for each man...tis spooky.¡± ¡°Okay. Well...did you hear anything...in between?¡± the words slipped out of his mouth without full control, but it was like, well, it was like Antietam, when death had touched him and passed him by, but not without leaving its mark upon him. Something had happened in that liminal space, which was now escaping his conscious mind.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t try ta remember the words, sir. They fall outta yer mind. Johnnie tried to remember and all he got was a bloody nose and a nap.¡± Robert shook off the horror after a moment. The other men rising and beginning to talk were also beginning to panic. Some were scrabbling around in the dirt after the coins which had fallen from the sky, others were having some sort of attack and sergeants were trying to keep order, but the situation was sliding towards chaos. Chaos of the sort that got men killed, especially when they were all armed.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. That couldn¡¯t be allowed. Picking out the officers was easy, given the skin color, only three were here. Forbes amongst them to Robert¡¯s ashamed gratitude. He raised his voice sharply and wished for his horse, this was so much easier when you towered over everyone else, something he otherwise very much did not do. He didn¡¯t spend any time trying to calm them down, they wanted answers he did not possess, so rather than waste time, he gave orders. ¡°Captain Simpkins, interview the men, gather information on all the content of these blue boxes everyone¡¯s seeing. Write it all done and organize it properly, you know how it¡¯s done. Men, try to remember the contents of the boxes as best you can!¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± the man snapped, glad for orders he could follow. ¡°Fall in by companies!¡± he ordered loudly, a command that was taken up by the handful of sergeants and corporals who were here. Men organized themselves rapidly...and horrifyingly, or gratifyingly. The entire regiment , ten companies had marched out, but he had little more than a single full strength company here. Which must mean that most of them had survived! And weren¡¯t here. ¡°Sir, if you just think that you want to see the big box with all the stuff about you again, it comes back,¡± one of the soldiers who¡¯d been here for two days said. Robert blinked at that. Tested it.
Name: Robert Gould Shaw Hit Points: 10
Species: Human Strength: 13
Class: Paladin Dexterity: 10
Background: Military Constitution: 10
EXP: 0 Intelligence: 12
Level: 1 Wisdom: 14
Deity: Christian God Charisma: 16
Age: 25 AC: 10
Skills: Persuasion, Religion, Athletics, Intimidation, Martial Weapons, Firearms
Background Feature: Officer (Colonel): Members of the Union Army recognize your rank and subordinates will generally defer to you. You can requisition support and supplies at Army posts.
Species Feature: Human: You gain EXP faster and level faster than more long lived species.
Sense Evil: 4 times per long rest you may invoke your divine senses and become aware of any undead or fiends within 60 feet of you, as well as sense anyone committing an evil act within that radius at the time of invocation.
Lay on Hands: You may heal up to 5 HP per long rest, simply by touching the target and willing it so.
¡°If the large box beginning with your name has gone away, simply think you want to see it again and it will return. For those who can¡¯t read¡ª¡± A man shifted nervously and Robert turned his eye on him, pausing for a moment, lowering his voice. ¡°Well?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t read, but I can understand what it all says.¡± Robert swallowed, forced his face to calm and raised his voice again, ¡°I hear you may be able to understand their contents nonetheless, if not, draw what you see, as best you can when it¡¯s your turn!¡± ¡°Captain Russel, interview the men, get a full inventory of all supplies!¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the younger man was nervous, patting the top of his head repeatedly, like he was afraid it was going to come off in his hands. But he moved out. ¡°Sergeant-Major, set up pickets!¡± ¡°Yes, Colonel,¡± the older man said, selecting his pickets swiftly and assigning them in pairs, out into the woods surrounding the field they¡¯d all woken up in. Things seemed to be calming down until another man just appeared, but snapped up, not slow as most had been, clutching at his leg, ¡°My leg! Stop cuttin¡¯ on me! My¡ª¡± Trip smacked the man in the back of the head, ¡°You¡¯re fine, boy. Both your legs are fine. We¡¯re all fine.¡± That was handled, Robert turned to his last officer. ¡°Major Forbes, get these men back in uniform, interviewed and pull together a patrol to scout the area. Start with that river I¡¯m hearing east of here!¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± Thomas! He¡¯d been injured before the attack on the fort, he might still be hurt and this [Lay on Hands] allegedly allowed him to heal. And his old friend could speak several languages Robert himself did not, so he could test this boon of translation. ¡°Corporal Searles, front and center!¡± Thomas marched up quickly and precisely, saluting, ¡°Colonel, sir!¡± Robert returned the salute. ¡°Corporal, how¡¯s your wound?¡± ¡°Gone, sir!¡± Robert stared at him in confusion, then, disbelieving dropped his hand to his old friend¡¯s should, expecting to feel bandages and see a wince. There was nothing. ¡°Sir, I think we¡¯re all like we were when we originally marched out of Boston, including all our gear.¡± That made sense¡ªwell, it didn¡¯t, but it fit with what he had on him and everyone else¡¯s clean and undamaged equipment. Robert¡¯s heart rose as he saw both flags flying above his small body of troops. It was no surprise that the color guard were all here, with their flags, they had been in the front with him when he-- ¡°I see. These strange boxes claim that I can understand any language, do you mind saying something in German?¡± Thomas smiled at the reminder of his more academic days and Robert¡¯s total disinterest in the language, far preferring Latin, or even French. Carefully watching his lips, he heard ¡°All good things must come to an end,¡± but that obviously was not the words his lips and tongue were shaping. ¡°All good things must come to an end.¡± ¡°Literally, everything has an end, only a sausage has two, but that¡¯s the meaning, yes.¡± Robert blinked¡ªwhich was why he¡¯d been able to understand some of the men so much clearer, it wasn¡¯t just translating languages, it was translating accents too. Not fully, but enough... There was a disturbance in the ranks, and people were shifting nervously away from someone, Robert heard the words ¡®magic¡¯ and ¡®witchcraft¡¯ being bandied about and felt himself shifting slightly away, awkwardly, but he forced the movement to still. ¡°Robert...my box says ¡®spellcasting,¡¯¡± Thomas admitted, quietly. Robert blinked for a moment and barely controlled the urge to flinch back from his old friend. Then he did when from the crowd, a sudden uproar emerged as an entire section was suddenly bathed in violet light, which clung to more than half of them. Men shrieked and clawed at themselves, another took a swing at the man who¡¯d been speaking as the formation broke apart. ¡°STAND AT ATTENTION!¡± Robert bellowed. The command was echoed by every officer and noncom in the field and drilled instinct slammed everyone into place. The light faded after a moment and Robert approached the group. Captain Simpkins stood there with his little diary in his hand as he¡¯d been taking careful notes. ¡°Sir, I just said Fa¡ª¡± the man began, only to be gagged by the man next to him. He shut up. Robert glanced at the notes, Captain Simpkins had actually finished writing it down as he hadn¡¯t been looking. [Faerie Fire]. A ¡®spell¡¯ the man knew. He¡¯d spoken it and...his eyes roamed over the page. ¡°Bring back up your box, private.¡± He closed his eyes then nodded, ¡°Sir, it says I¡¯ve only got ¡®1 spell slot¡¯ left this long rest. I must have...cast it when I said the name, but I said the name of the others too!¡± Robert nodded. ¡°Everyone with the spellcasting feature in their boxes, fall out and report to Corporal Searles. Corporal Searles, figure out how that works¡ªover there,¡± he pointed to an unoccupied corner of the field, ¡°and report back!¡± There was muttering as men fell out, though Robert could see some holding back, unwilling to out themselves to their companions. He frowned slightly and raised his voice, ¡°Gentlemen, I do not know where we are. But I know three things. This is not heaven. This is not hell. And we are the soldiers of the 54th! Soldiers of the Union! We have nothing to hide from one another and nothing to fear from anything in this universe except the Lord, our God, who has not abandoned us! Even these boxes say it, do they not? Deity: Christian Lord! We are all of us, godly men, patriots and no boxes or change in scenery can change that. We will figure this out. We will overcome all challenges before us!¡± Three times they cheered a huzzah, before he repeated the order. More fell out. Almost half went over and began talking. Including Cabot. And Rawlins. Any fear Robert had had that he might be wrong vanished with that. Rawlins was by far the most godly man he¡¯d ever met. Half the pickets moved out as well, which kept him busy for a moment reorganizing that. As he finished, he heard the group announcing that if you ¡®just thought about the spell name,¡¯ a new box would appear, describing how it works and what it required. Robert kept moving, finishing organizing the patrol and glanced back at where Major Forbes was talking to the other people with the spellcasting feature. A couple of the men who¡¯d been here longer were in the patrol, as were Privates Trip and Sharts. Most of the men I¡¯d have wanted to lead a patrol were in the spellcasting group. My sharpest minds and calmest hands were over there, trying to make sure they weren¡¯t cursed. The two captains I had were brave men, but neither was a woodsman, nor did I want them operating on their own. The senior man in the patrol was Sergeant Merriman. ¡°Sergeant, give me a quick patrol, make sure nothing¡¯s about to ambush us, then get back here.¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± he snapped off a sharp salute. ¡°You know your men and their skills, use them well,¡± Robert said, giving a slight nod towards Trip. Given the man¡¯s history, he was probably the best sneaker in the regiment, even if it hadn¡¯t quite worked out for him. And Sharts, after long weeks of drilling had steadied his nerves, was undoubtedly the best shot in the regiment. The sergeant nodded. Robert hesitated for a moment, but if there were people here, better they be able to talk. He dropped a hand on the sergeant¡¯s shoulder and focused. Divine Boon of Translation, I choose him. Nothing seemed to happen, but he checked and he had only 9 uses of the ¡®Divine Boon¡¯ left. ¡°Sergeant, I believe I have just made it so you will understand other languages...which I cannot test, as the box claims everyone will understand my speech regardless of language. Anyone know a language the sergeant doesn¡¯t?¡± ¡°Colonel, what class you get?¡± Trip called out. ¡°Damnable box calls me a barbarian!¡± ¡°Better than ¡®commoner¡¯ what¡¯s that mean?¡± another man muttered. ¡°Paladin,¡± Robert said. ¡°Son of a gun, guess it does work,¡± Trip said, and Robert belatedly realized the other man had been talking some other language, most likely either one of the southern creoles or some native language, depending on how the man had escaped his bondage. Robert glanced at the sergeant, who also nodded. ¡°How¡¯s that work, then, sir?¡± the sergeant asked nervously. ¡°That¡¯s a problem for those poor fellas to solve,¡± he nodded at the spellcasters. ¡°Our job is to figure out where we are and what the threats are.¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± the sergeant agreed, saluting sharply. ¡°Two hours, sergeant, by your watch,¡± he¡¯d noted the watch chain on the man¡¯s uniform, uncommon, but not rare for an enlisted man, which was good, otherwise he¡¯d have had to offer his own, ¡°or I¡¯ll lead another patrol looking for you myself!¡± Robert returned the salute and the patrol moved out carefully. They headed east, towards the slight sound of a distant river, as rivers tended to mean people. Robert watched them go, then turned back to the chaos and did his best to bring it to some sort of order and understanding. Trip: Scouting Silas Trip did not go by Silas. He¡¯d considered changing his name when he escaped, but in the end, he simply chose a surname that he wanted to be known as. There were reasons for the name, but they were no one else¡¯s business, not even for the other members of the 54th. At least the sergeant was smart enough to put him and Sharts our front. They were by far the quietest. It was embarrassing that it was the idiot Sharts who was blazing the trail markers for the others, but, to be fair, he clearly had the best idea of where an idiot would look for markers. The two of them moved well together. It was...nice to have someone to watch his back, though the boxes were troubling him. He tried to put it to one side, but the label stung him in places the lash hadn¡¯t.
Name: Silas Trip Hit Points: 16
Species: Human Strength: 18
Class: Barbarian Dexterity: 14
Background: Ex-Slave Constitution: 18
EXP: 0 Intelligence: 11
Level: 1 Wisdom: 9
Deity: Christian God Charisma: 12
Age: 23 AC: 16
Skills: Athletics, Stealth, Intimidation, Survival, Martial Weapons, Firearms
Background Feature: Ex-Slave: Other slaves, or ex-slaves recognize a fellow spirit and are more likely to cooperate with you.
Species Feature: Human: You gain EXP faster and level faster than more long lived species.
Rage: Twice per long rest you may enter a rage, which increases your damage with melee weapons and makes you more resistant to enemy attacks.
Unarmored Defense: When not wearing armor, your AC uses your constitution bonus as well as your dexterity bonus.
Barbarian. Ex-Slave. And those numbers, summing up his entire being in six numbers. It reminded him of ugly history and cruel men, for he would call no man master, ever again, except in mockery. Even Sharts got called a Ranger and a Farmer, when Idiot and Fool were more accurate. Though the boy could shoot¡­ Despite himself he gasped as the reached the edge of the treeline, moving into some of the brush and looking out. It was not the river that startled him. It was a mighty thing, yes, far wider than the ones he had swum on his way north, but it was just a river. What startled and even awed him, though he would never admit it, was the massive fist of rock, thrusting up out of the ground not a quarter mile from the river in the scrubland that bordered the river and offered little cover for their patrol. He had never seen it¡¯s like. It punched up into the sky a distance he couldn¡¯t be sure of. As his eyes rose further...he saw smoke. And his eyes picked out a winding path that circled around the edge of the massive outcropping. It didn¡¯t seem to make it all the way to the ground, instead, breaking off most of the way down. Someone had started slowly piling up dirt and rocks at the base to rebuild the walkway. More proof, if such was needed that there were people here. Indeed, he thought there was movement at the base, but it was further over, they¡¯d need to either emerge, or sneak along the treeline to make it out, but one thing was obvious. It was inhabited. They¡¯d found people. Schooling his features to the unconcerned sneer which usually came naturally, he nudged Sharts, ¡°Whadda ya think, farmboy?¡± Sharts knelt and scrapped up some soil. ¡°G-g-g-good soil...but this close to the river? F-f-f-floods are no joke.¡± ¡°I meant about the folks up there?¡± Trip rolled his eyes at his friend, feeling more confident as their natural dynamic reasserted itself. ¡°Dunno.¡± Trip reported back and then got the whole patrol moving along the treeline to where they¡¯d spotted movement. It was hard to make out details at this distance, but figures were piling up rocks and using simple tools to dig up the soft dirt underneath, piling it up. More were seated around a fire, cooking something. It was hard to get a sense of scale, until one of the seated ones rose, revealing itself to be twice the height of the others. Parent and children maybe. Oh, and they were all green. It was a mark of something that that wasn¡¯t the first thing he noticed. They wore ragged clothing and the big one had a massive axe slung over its back, while the smaller ones seemed unarmed and almost naked, which supported his theory. The way the big one held a joint of meat in one hand easily out of reach of the smaller figures...might have been teasing? But it did not feel that way. The smaller figures jumped, or several jumped, one fell to its knees, begging shamelessly and crawling forward, only to be kicked onto his back. The bigger creature laughed, loud enough to be heard despite the distance in the silence which was rippling through the group. Then he casually took a bite of the meat. The smaller figures stopped jumping and the one on the ground tried to rise, but seemed to be moving badly. Trip recognized this. His hand fell to the bayonet still strapped to his thigh, while his other tightened on the butt of his rifle. ¡°Sharts, you still got the wrap for your uniform?¡± the sergeant asked, his voice low and ugly, but controlled. Trip had been so focused on the scene in front of him that he''d missed the others catching up. ¡°Yes, sarge?¡± ¡°Give it to me. Adams, get back to the field. Tell the colonel what we found and ask for reinforcements.¡± The big creature kept eating until all that was left was a bone, then he flicked it to the smaller creatures, who started to fight over it, except the one who¡¯d been kicked, which glared hatefully at the bigger creature. The distance was so great he couldn¡¯t make out those details...but he knew. The big creature lunged forward as the sergeant stabbed the paper with his own bayonet, creating an improvised white flag. Sharts raised his rifle, but the smaller creature fell back and the larger one laughed again, pulling back and turning around. It made it one step, then turned back as the smaller one must have said something and Trip knew he was about to witness a murder. ¡°With me Trip. No one fire unless we¡¯re attacked,¡± the sergeant whispered and rose out of the bushes, waving his improvised white flag. ¡°Excuse me, we would like to peacefully negotiate an exchange of information,¡± he yelled as he walked out of the woods. Trip swore silently. What were even the odds that any of these creatures spoke English? Oh, right, the ¡®boon of translation¡­¡¯ Well, he put that to one side as he hastily followed. He kept his rifle on his shoulder, though he did fix the bayonet as the pair of them advanced about fifty feet into the open. That still left another couple hundred, but the big creature which had been mocking the smaller ones was already approaching. A second leapt from the fire and moved with the first, a massive axe also on...her back. He was surprised to see an armed woman, but put it to one side. Three more rose, drawing weapons, more axes but did not rush in. The two creatures which approached towered over the humans, even Trip, and he was a big man, but they were both taller than he. Closer to seven feet than six. Neither actually drew their axe, and in turn, Trip kept his weapon to his shoulder. The male growled something as he approached. They definitely didn¡¯t speak English, but the sergeant must have understood them. ¡°I see. I am Sergeant Merriman, of the 54th Massachusetts. And who are your smaller compatriots?¡± More growls and sneers, and hands were on the hafts of their massive axes. ¡°I see. So you¡¯ve conquered this area and enslaved the locals...then you must have information regarding the region. We are newcomers here and¡ª¡± the sergeant was interrupted by more growls. Though it was obvious he was mostly repeating what they¡¯d said for the benefits of the audience. ¡°We are not attempting to¡ª¡± more growls. Merriman did not look merry. ¡°Those aren¡¯t spears. We are speaking under flag of truce, if you don¡¯t¡ª¡± A growl and the axe spun free, chopping towards the sergeant. Trip was faster. He shot the creature, but its axe still smashed into Merriman and dropped him with that single blow and a sharp, cut off scream. A second shot rang out, Sharts, as the creature took it in the throat, toppling to his knees and then onto his stomach, without ripping its axe free, which meant the sergeant had a chance. Not a good one, but more of one than the massive creature dying on the ground in front of him. The muskets¡¯ minie balls ripped small holes through his guts and throat, but had blown a massive hole in his back and almost taken his head off. The woman screamed and lunged at Trip, her own axe free. He felt a scream rip past his own lips as rage bubbled up, speeding his movements. He ducked under her swing and smashed his bayonet into her stomach, twisting. He wanted to keep pushing. He wanted to go for the grapple, slam her to the ground and stomp her to death. He wanted¡ªThat Irish ass Mulcahy¡¯s voice echoed in his ears from training En Garde. A meaty fist tried to grab him and he managed evade, as he pulled the blade back out. Thrust. The blade slipped into her chest with all the power his legs and back could deliver. Develop. It twisted easily in his hands, this was the work of his arms, the steel breaking bone as it carved a bloody cavity in her chest, sliding through the hide armor she wore easily. En Garde. The blade slid out. Despite the two gaping wounds, she wasn¡¯t dead, still trying to attack, a foot rose in a frantic kick, which hit nothing but air and sent her sprawling onto her black, blood leaking from her wounds.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. He wanted to finish her. He wanted to stomp her throat, or stab down with his blade, but Sergeant Merriman was lying on the ground, clutching his wound, whimpering like a kicked dog, and there were three more massive figures, all staring and already beginning their charge. Part of him thought he could take them, but not without leaving the sergeant exposed. Instead, he cursed to himself and grabbed the other man¡¯s collar, glad they¡¯d both dumped their packs before coming out here and ran for the treeline. Besides Sharts, they wouldn¡¯t dare fire with the two of them in the way, so they needed to get out of the way. He hauled the other man straight back, moving quickly. They were fast, faster than he, even if he hadn''t been burdened by Merriman, but their distance was greater. The sound of their howling war cries behind him itched at his back, made him want to turn and fight. It wasn¡¯t the famous rebel yell that had broken and fled from them a few days earlier, but it was a war cry and it was his turn to flee and that burned him. Until a command snapped from the woods, Corporal Stilles¡¯ order was sharp. ¡°Ready.¡± Eighteen rifles rose, bayonets gleaming and visible. They had split around his path, none closer than fifteen feet. He kept running, though the warcry behind him heightened in pitch and the enemy accelerated further, howling their strange growling words that he could not understand. ¡°Aim.¡± Trip kept running, almost to the treeline. ¡°Fire.¡± The noise was deafening, smoke filled the air and Trip spun, lifting his own, still empty rifle, only to find three corpses on the ground. The slaves had fled and there was no way to communicate with them, even if they were here, what with Sergeant Merriman still having an ax in him. Say this for the other man, he¡¯d held onto his gun, even if the makeshift white flag was stained with dirt and blood. Trip bent over him, doing his best to bind the sergeant¡¯s wound. He didn¡¯t dare remove the ax. In his youth, he¡¯d seen a man half-crushed by a wagon. He¡¯d lived until they moved the wagon and all the blood in his body had raced out faster than a good piss could empty a bladder. At least he owed it to the man to see if he could keep him alive until someone who knew the right prayers for the dying arrived. The Colonel surely would. He was learned like that. Dumb as a stump and ignorant as a stone in other ways. But he was learned like that. Trip had no fear working on the man at the edge of the treeline, for the soldiers of the 54th moved past him, weapons reloaded and ready for any attack. Except Sharts, who was still in the treeline, waiting for any movement. That must have been ordered, because he knew it to be true, but he had no recollection of it, he¡¯d been too focused on his own part of the battle. It was an annoyingly long time before the second party showed up. The corporal had put his original group to work. There were sentries posted, a group had checked the base camp, finding only a fire, a spit and the source of the joint of meat, a giant rat of all things. One of their number had vomited at the mere sight of the thing. Trip had laughed to himself when he heard that. He¡¯d eaten rat before. Though never a giant one. Another group pulled all the bodies together and had searched them. There were some jokes and some discomfort about the fact that two of them proved to be women. Trip didn¡¯t see the concern himself, if someone was coming at you with an axe, they were coming at you with an axe. Weapons were the great equalizer...if you had them and the great oppressor if you didn¡¯t. It takes more than a weapon to make a soldier, boy, Mulcahy¡¯s brogue echoed in his ears, but he pushed the voice aside. They made a pile of axes, four massive things which it would take two hands to wield lay, to one side. And another lay in Merriman''s side. Heh. But besides those weapons all they found was some badly preserved meat, a few hunting trophies, claws and teeth and the like, a handful of silver, or copper coins with no symbols anyone recognized. The only thing each of them had was some strange amulet of carved bone, each different but showing the same symbol. An eye. The men who¡¯d done the searching grumbled about that, calling it a heathen or heretic symbol, but no one actually knew anything. It was all piled up for the Colonel and the men who¡¯d touched them made sure to volunteer for the trip to the nearby river, and washed their hands thoroughly before returning. The others were talking about other things as well...mainly how fast they¡¯d reloaded their guns. They¡¯d been well drilled and well practiced, they could fire three volleys a minute, which was the expected rate for good troops. But their hands had flown through reloading so fast that men were boasting that they could put five, or even ten shots in a target in a minute. The corporal didn¡¯t let them waste the ammunition, though he didn¡¯t mention it, running out was obviously a concern. No one wanted to try to fight more giant, green, ax wielding monsters with a bayonet. Except Trip. The whole time Trip had to sit there with the sergeant, holding his hand and letting the other man blather on about his life, his dreams, his girl and how much getting a giant ax smashed into you by an equally giant monster hurt. Trip hated this. Yes, yes, he¡¯d want someone to do it for him, if he were in the other man¡¯s...extremely fine shoes, shoes which matched his own. The finest he¡¯d ever had. Though he''d paid for his more than this soft sergeant had. Well, that wasn''t true, they''d both paid with everything they had, in the end, that''s how they ended up here. He tried to remember what the man said as he asked for reassurances and for messages to be passed, but even as he tried, he could not suppress his irritation fully. He wanted to be finding his way up onto that fist of stone, where he was sure there would be more slavers. There were ropes leading down from where the stone path broke...but the corporal simply set guards and kept Sharts watching, he didn¡¯t try to climb them. Even Trip had to admit there was sense in that. None of their weapons would help if someone dropped a rock on their head as they climbed, or wormed their way on their belly down the path and cut the ropes. Indeed, three times rocks were hurled from the top of the outcrop, down towards the sentries and scouts. There would have been many more, but Sharts finally caught one of them and a single shot had taken the monster cleanly through the head, sending him plummeting over the side to, well, burst on the riverbank. After that, they tried chucking rocks, but only blindly from behind the lip of the outcrop, which accomplished little other than making everyone keep a close eye on the sky. Finally, the Colonel arrived with reinforcements, almost three full squads, including the old man, with the bookworm right behind him. He moved directly towards them and grabbed the sergeant¡¯s unwounded side. Light glowed from his hand and the ax slid out of the wound of its own accord as the wound sealed itself. The sergeant wasn¡¯t fully healed, but he had gone from ''definitely going to die'' to an ugly, but mostly sealed wound across his torso. Both of them stared at the Colonel in shock. He shrugged, uncomfortable with their stares and Trip forced the awe out of his eyes. ¡°Neat trick.¡± ¡°Gift from the boxes. I can only do it once a day. What happened, sergeant?¡± he asked. Did he see how the man straightened at that? At being treated like a soldier? Like a man? Not an invalid, or a beast¡ªa tiny whisper in the back of his mind said ¡®or a monster¡¯ and tugged his attention towards the corpses which now numbered six, though one was in rather worse shape than the rest. The Colonel was a learned man, surely he could learn and had learned. Was this a trick? Manipulation? A plan? Hard to know...but he¡¯d seen the man charge the slaver lines and die for it...if it was a trick, it was the best one Trip had ever heard of. ¡°Saw two groups at the ramp. One doing all the work, one tormenting the other. There was...an incident. The big ones, called themselves ¡®the Stormclaw Orcs¡¯ said they¡¯d conquered this place and enslaved the ¡®goblins¡¯. They were littler and doing all the work.¡± ¡°And taking the kickings,¡± Trip muttered. The sergeant belatedly realized he was still holding Trip¡¯s hand and released it, a little guiltily. He started trying to rise, but winced as the wound tensed. ¡°You aren¡¯t fully healed, stay down. We¡¯ve got others with healing abilities, but they¡¯re still figuring them out, or lack some required component.¡± ¡°Yes, sir. I tried to negotiate with them, but they thought my questions were an attempt to scout for some other group and decided to attack.¡± The Colonel¡¯s face was carved from that fancy white stone he¡¯d seen on statues, ¡°Despite the flag?¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°Did they know what it meant?¡± ¡°I said truce, they came to us.¡± ¡°I see. Continue.¡± ¡°They attacked. I got hit. Trip saved my life, killed ¡®em brought me back here. The boys took out the rest when they charged.¡± ¡°The goblins?¡± ¡°Scarpered in the confusion,¡± Trip cut in, as the sergeant didn¡¯t know. The Colonel nodded. ¡°More up there?¡± ¡°We think so, sir,¡± the sergeant said. The Colonel looked at the bookworm. ¡°Still think your trick¡¯ll do it?¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°Then get to work. Trip, watch his back.¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± they both snapped off salutes, which were returned in kind. ¡°Sir,¡± Trip heard the sergeant say quietly. ¡°They recognized us as humans¡ª¡± Thomas moved away before he could hear the rest, but he didn¡¯t need to. It was one of the things Trip had been going to report to the Colonel after the sergeant died. Phrased almost the same way too, he did remember what the rest of it would be ¡°¡­.though it took a while...they spoke of us like I might speak of demons. Something I knew existed but have never seen, or sought to see. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s any actual humans anywhere near us.¡± He wanted to know how the Colonel would react to that, but he kept his eyes forward, watching the bookworm¡¯s back. What he was going to do about a mountain was something he was curious about. He frankly doubted the man would even be able to climb the ropes. Especially with his injured shoulder¡ªthough the man had fought on, despite the injury, killing a slaver who¡¯d got the drop on Trip himself. So, he¡¯d watch the bookworm''s back. He owed him at least that much. So, he was watching carefully when the bookworm just pointed at an area near the ramp the slaves had slowly been constructing and a square of dirt simply rose out of the ground and slid forward, following his finger. The man turned to face him and Trip felt his jaw going slack. He tried to force it into his usual knowing smirk, but he¡¯d only barely kept himself from flinching back at the blatant display of...magic? Witchcraft? This wasn¡¯t like what the Colonel had done. Healing hands were something he¡¯d heard about, even if he thought them the realm of charlatans or madmen. But this¡­ This wasn¡¯t witchcraft. Witchcraft was a sneaking poisonous thing by all accounts. This was something else. Something new. Just like the ¡®orcs¡¯ and ¡®goblins¡¯¡­the bookworm¡¯s smile was so broad that Trip had to do something about it. He managed a sneer. ¡°Only that much? Here I thought your brain was stronger than my back! I could lift that much dirt, no problem!¡± That...was a lie. And he knew it. But he was holding onto his cynicism and certainty with his fingernails, even after seeing the reward for trying to be what they wanted him to be was getting ripped in half by a goddamn cannon, his stupid heart wanted him to still be that man. The bookworm laughed and moved his finger, sending the earth he¡¯d lifted gliding over the ground until it got to the base of the ramp and dumped it, then back to the start. Another chunk of earth rose and moved smoothly to its new destination forming the bottom layer of the end of the ramp. Well, that explained the Colonel¡¯s plan. He wasn¡¯t going to climb the ropes, it was going to be a march after all. The boxes of dirt didn¡¯t remain in that shape once dumped, instead slumping to the side, without support, but that was fine, it should mean they marched up a slope not clambering up repeated neck high steps, like the whole thing was stairs built for a giant. More rocks were occasionally tossed over the side, but whatever the bookworm was doing was quiet enough and the enemy wasn¡¯t willing to stick their head over the side of the outcrop and risk the wrath of Sharts. That thought almost made Trip chuckle, the wrath of a stammering field hand kept those big, bad slavers hiding in their homes, blindly throwing rocks in a hopeless bid to hurt an enemy they were too scared to even look at. ¡°Woulda been damn useful to have this talent when we were diggin¡¯ back in Carolina. You coulda done all the diggin¡¯ for the whole regiment.¡± ¡°And deny you the chance to show off those big muscles of yours to those white boys marching past? Who else would give you an excuse to show them how much bigger you are?¡± Trip chuckled. The bookworm had learned to bite back. Sharts hadn¡¯t, but Sharts¡¯ problem was that he was nice, the bookworm¡¯s problem¡ªThomas¡¯s problem was that he was soft. And that was fixing itself right nicely. Finally, he asked the obvious question. ¡°Why are you pulling dirt from so far away?¡± ¡°If I pull it from right next to where we¡¯re dumping it, the whole thing may collapse.¡± ¡°Fine, pull it from twenty feet out, not a hundred! You like walking that much?¡± ¡°Look at where I¡¯m pulling from,¡± Thomas said, making it a puzzle, which he hated, or a challenge, which he hated even more. It took a few minutes, but then it was obvious. They weren¡¯t just building a ramp, they were also making a trench! It would surround the bottom of the ramp, leaving room for walls, then it was cutting along the side, heading for the river. That was a long way to go, but not if you could just point at the dirt and it would move for you! The implication was clear, they were taking this place over and fortifying it into a base. He sneered, ¡°And what if the locals don¡¯t want us sticking around?¡± ¡°Then they¡¯ll have a better fortified home when we leave. But they obviously need help and protection and we need a base and someone who knows what¡¯s safe to eat in these woods. Sounds like a match made in heaven to me.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡± Trip looked up as the dirt pile continued to grow. The outcrop was shorter than he¡¯d thought, only about 2-300 yards, but he¡¯d have still thought it would take the entire regiment days to rebuild the broken path. Instead, it was done in hours, all by one person. The Colonel gave his orders. The three best sharpshooters were going to be escorted by the rest of a squad led by some dickhead corporal and circle around the ¡®mesa¡¯ as he called it, picking off any orcs who tried to rain rocks down on them from above, or set up ambushes on the path. A second, under the old man¡¯s command would hold the ditch that was now carved at the base, in case of any attempted ambush and guarding the still injured sergeant. The bookworm would stay with them, continuing to construct his ditch. The rest of them would be heading up. With the men he¡¯d brought, that was almost thirty soldiers, marching two abreast. The first would be the Colonel...and Trip. With the color sergeants a few ranks back. The orders were simple, if the enemy allowed them to the top, whether to talk or to prepare an ambush, they would form a firing line and await further orders. If they tried to block the top of the mesa, then first squad would engage the blockers, second squad would clamber up the side of the path to the top, while third covered them, then third would follow. They¡¯d clear the enemy out and let first advance. They advanced in...well, not silence, thirty men marching is not quiet endeavor. And the path was hardly perfect. Once it turned to rock, things were straightforward, but the piled up loose earth compacted slowly under their feet and every so often men had to pause to pull themselves free. But it did not take long to climb and they managed not to lose anyone over the edge. Trip carefully took the position on the inside, not next to the sheer fall, unprotected by even a fence. He was not afraid. He was not afraid of anything. And certainly not something as simple as heights. It was just...not something he had experience with. Like this ¡®spell¡¯ business. It was entirely sensible to be cautious about new experiences. It was even more sensible to keep your eyes firmly on the road ahead, which men might come from. It was only natural that he jumped at the sound of a gunshot down below. Many people flinched and looked around, which only stopped with the welter of blood and brain rained down on the path in front of them and they looked up to see the corpse of the orc who¡¯d poked his head over the edge to see what was coming and gotten shot for it. He didn¡¯t fall, obviously, as only his head was sticking over the edge. Then he did, as a growl came from above and someone clearly pushed the corpse from behind, causing it to fall across the narrow path. Trip and the Colonel pushed it to one side, but not off the edge altogether. Trip wanted to, but a sharp look from the Colonel stopped him and they continued the last few steps to right below the lip of the mesa. They bent slightly, advanced and poked their heads up above the edge to see what awaited them. Trip didn¡¯t wince from it, or from the Colonel¡¯s grip on his shoulder. He doubted the other man even thought Trip might be afraid, instead he was clearly seeking to comfort himself in the face of this by reminding him of the caliber of man he had under his command. Robert: Confrontation The space would have been open, but for the people. There were ramshackle structures and a few scraggly trees, which looked surprisingly well tended and to have provided the wood for all the structures, but in the large open space at the top of the path, it was bare rock, or a thin layer of dirt. Except that ostensibly open area was filled with dozens of the small green men¡ªgoblins, standing in front. There were indeed green, and small as children, but clearly were adults. They stood no higher than his stomach, with long pointed ears, almost batlike. Small red eyes, deeply inset and dark protruding brows. Flat, large, almost horselike noses, while their teeth were sharp as a predators¡¯. Most wore only a loin cloth, though to his eyes, those were actually higher quality than the furs and leather worn by the orcs below. Several also had fine, elaborately embroidered scarves. The sight of the orc corpses below had given him some insight, but seeing the goblins up close, it was obvious they were not related to the orcs. Orc ears were small, though their noses were smaller, but they had massive underslung jaws, with upward protruding fangs, but their other teeth were flat, like a humans. The bodies below had not inured Robert to the strangeness of it, but he was a committed abolitionist and believed the Colored men were every bit as much men as white men. He simply hadn¡¯t expected to have that claim tested by quite so many colors. Indeed, the goblins came in many different shades of green, as well. But once he forced himself to look past the strangeness, he saw that they were poorly armed, cooking knives and clubs, hastily sharpened sticks, a few even only had piled rocks to throw. All of them were unarmored save for their clothing. And all were, he was certain, despite their strange faces and beady, red eyes, frightened. Regardless, there were many of them, enough to outnumber his entire force. If it came down to a fight with barely armed slaves who were barely up to his stomach, he knew the 54th would win, but it would be a cruel thing to kill such wretched creatures. Behind them were ranged half a dozen or so of the larger orcs, each wearing poorly tanned hides and furs. Almost evenly divided between men and women, their minimal clothing made that obvious. He wished there were not women here. Battle was an ugly thing¡­to include women in it made it worse. Even Montgomery, who he would not grace with his dishonored rank, had realized that and that man was near enough an animal. But...they had the axes and they were larger even than Trip, they could not be captured safely and even if they could, he feared the consequences of keeping women prisoners when they had lost all of their camp followers. He trusted the discipline of his men, but better not to tempt them. Putting that matter aside, as there was nothing else to do with it, he focused on the nature and equipment of his enemies rather than their sex. They were an unimpressive sight, except for their size and the size of the axes each of them held, contrasting pathetically with the photos of the various Indian tribesmen he had seen exhibited in Boston. Their badly tanned hides were clearly rotting in places, and lacked the beauty of buckskin as well as any of the decoration. No, that wasn¡¯t entirely true, they wore claws and fangs of great beasts, awkwardly and badly attached to their clothing, or on makeshift jewelry with leather thongs bound about some portion of their anatomy. It was the look of a people who cared not for their appearance. Even their weapons were unadorned, brutal steel and barely shaped wood. That seemed...unnatural. People tried to decorate themselves and their things. He¡¯d seen it in his own regiment, he¡¯d seen it in the contrabands who had sacked and burned Darien, the only people he hadn¡¯t seen it in...were the slaves who were denied control over even their clothing and equipment and so could not. As his mind considered that, he saw one more figure, seated behind the others, but seeming even larger than the orcs. Had he perhaps misunderstood? Was there only one master here and the rest slaves? The flash of metal on his torso and the even more massive axe, which seemed, though it was hard to tell, far more impressive then the others, perhaps even to flash with an inner fire¡­it was hard to see through the ranks of goblins and orcs. Behind the rows of threats, there were small buildings and a cave entrance, all of which could conceal reinforcements. The enemy lacked the numbers to cover the entire mesa-top and, strangely, had not chosen to place their defenses at the top of the path, where a few could block many. He kept his eye on the ground, in case they¡¯d tried to dig pits, or ditches, but it seemed bare rock. Regardless of the reason, they¡¯d left sufficient room for his force to deploy, so he stepped forward and the men flowed after him, instantly forming battle lines on either side of him, rifles in hand, first rank kneeling, second rank standing awaiting the order to fire, or the moment the enemy attacked. It was a fearsome sight, the wall of blue and black, bristling the steel of bayonets and their guns hungry for the blood of the enemy. The only question was...who was the enemy? The enemy seemed to be waiting for something, but before Robert could figure it out, the large figure stepped up, revealing himself to be at least seven feet tall, wearing gleaming chain-mail and wielding an axe that was almost the size of Robert himself, negligently in one hand. It was, indeed, glowing. His other hand held a piece of meat, studied nonchalance, calm certainty of victory. An act, Robert thought, but a good one, for his men. One Robert had to match. Which became harder when he realized the meat was uncooked and the skin still on it was the green of a goblin¡¯s skin. His eyes flicked to the corpse he hadn¡¯t been able to see before lying by the large stone stool the monster had been using as a seat. The goblins before him looked back at the monster behind and back to Robert and his own soldiers, weighing them and deciding they were more afraid of what was behind them than what was before them and Robert¡¯s position meant he could not see the state of his own men...this monster was better at this than he. But he kept his back straight and showed no doubt in the courage of the 54th, how could he, knowing what they had faced just hours before? The cannibal¡¯s underslung, protruding jaw had massive tusks, far larger than those of the orcs under his command, indeed, looking at him, he realized that some of the fangs on the outfits of the orcs might have come from creatures like this. ¡°Huh, so the elves called for help against the Vomiting Shitbirds?¡± the orcs and goblins chuckled like that was an old joke they laughed at out of politeness. Or fear. ¡°No surprise, they never like to do their own fighting, or dying. Which clan called you in to do their dying for them?¡± Trip to his side twitched in surprise at being able to understand, not having expected or been informed of the boon Robert had chosen to give him at the last moment, when he saw the horde of slaves arrayed against them and did not know whether it would be high rhetoric or similar experience which would be needed to reach them. But for now, Robert ignored that, and focused on the battle which had already begun, the battle of morale and rhetoric. ¡°You ask who we are?¡± He had to clarify for those of his men who could not understand the speech of this monstrous figure, but he forced his tone to make it mocking, astonished that they had not been heard of, despite the manifest absurdity of that. ¡°We are the 54th Massachusetts! We are soldiers of the Union! We are the blade of abolition and the bane of the slaver. We are the proof of and fulfillment of the vow our predecessors made, that all men are created equal,¡± He didn¡¯t know how the boxes were translating his words, but the goblins in front of him were certainly staring at him, though he could not read their strange, distorted features well enough to tell if it was hope, incomprehension, or disbelief that was plain upon them. The monster towering above him stared and Robert couldn¡¯t read his expression either, but the magical translation let him hear tone as well as words and that tone was confused. ¡°What madness is this? You are numbers? You are numbers from the hills?¡± he laughed and a few sycophantic laughs followed, but only from the orcs, not the goblins. ¡°You seek to free slaves by attacking us? Take yourselves north and fight the children of Maglubiyet in the foothills!¡± Everyone was confused by that, though Robert hid it with some effort. ¡°Instead you seek to challenge the children of One-Eyed Gruumsh!¡± he slammed his fist and axe haft against his armored chest and every orc mirrored him. ¡°Even as we recover our strength you sneak about and strike at us in ones and twos with your magics, you are no better than elves who seek to slay sleeping warriors, afraid to face them on the battlefield. I name you cowards!¡± he pointed his axe at the line of soldiers. Robert felt more than heard the huff of indignation and anger from the men at his back. He laughed. ¡°We are the men who volunteered to be the first against the walls of Fort Wagner. We are the men who did not break in the face of death. The only coward here is you, hiding behind your slaves and hill and words!¡± his sword flew clear of its sheath, while his other hand found the butt of his pistol. At those words, Robert learned that even green skin could go white with anger, but he saw something else he recognized, not in features he still had not figured out how to read, but in the monster¡¯s inset, sunken eyes, he saw the glimmer of triumph. ¡°Then you should have no hesitation in facing me! Let us settle this ourselves! Leader-to-leader, orog-to-man! Hardly a fair fight, so bring along one of your feeble men, make it orog-to-men! I will smite you both down.¡± ¡°Goblins, stand aside, you will be free in just a moment,¡± Robert ordered sharply. They scattered the moment the massive ¡®orog¡¯ nodded and waved the goblin meat he still held in one hand. They mostly kept running, either into the small makeshift buildings, a few dugouts, or into the cave. Three peeked out and one, older than the others only went so far as the side of the mesa. The massive monster stepped forward, and Robert spoke a single word. ¡°Fire.¡± The world exploded and smoke filled the air, too much for him to see the effect. There would be no time to reload, instead he spoke a second word. ¡°Charge!¡± and matching word to deed, he rushed forward. Thirty men burst out of the smoke and found one orc, miraculously unharmed by the barrage and the ¡®orog¡¯ barely standing, swaying, unstable and in agony, but his eyes fixed on Robert and he tried to charge, only to take the first shot from Robert¡¯s pistol directly to the chest, smashing him onto his back, though the chainmail stood up to the pistol shot, unlike the rifle shots which had ripped apart his torso. Robert continued forward and after a moment of concern for their limited supply of ammunition, he dashed forward, Trip at his side and stabbed the prone figure. The sabre rebounded from the chainmail, but that simply sent it curving upwards towards the throat and a moment later the creature choked on blood. A moment after that, Trip¡¯s bayonet stopped its choking. The charge had taken down the orc before he could even recover from the shock of the volleyed fire and every fallen orc took at least two stabs to make certain they were truly fallen. ¡°Reform!¡± Robert yelled and a moment later both ranks were lined back up and reloading their weapons. He swept along the line, making sure his men were all right. Most were. There were a few minor cuts, and bruises, none from the enemy, but thirty men running forward, with bayonets raised on uneven ground, with smoke swirling and their blood up could end with injuries even if the enemy never managed to make a strike. Especially if their fool commander was unwise enough to order them to charge before ordering the kneeling men in front to rise. He saluted them sharply.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. He took two steps towards the older goblin, examining its features. He was not sure if all the goblins he had seen were male, or if the signs of difference were more subtle than amongst humans, or orcs, more like cats than cattle in their dimorphism. He wasn¡¯t even certain he was reading the signs of age properly. Yes, he had gray hair, but who said that was the same for goblins as for humans? He was wrinkled, but so was every goblin he had seen thus far. ¡°Grandfather, are there more orcs here?¡± The goblin looked at him in some confusion, then shook his head. ¡°None here, master.¡± ¡°Please do not call me master. I was not lying when I said we keep no slaves.¡± The goblin nodded, though Robert thought he was being humored. Still, he did continue, ¡°There was a hunting party that went out this morning.¡± ¡°How many?¡± ¡°Five.¡± A muscle jumped in Robert¡¯s jaw as he considered, any of the groups he¡¯d left should have the strength to deal with such a force, but he¡¯d prefer to outnumber the enemy far more. After a moment¡¯s hesitation, he looked at the old goblin, for the man¡¯s voice had assured him that his assessment was correct. The boon of translation might be helping him here as well, granting him insight that would usually be obscured. ¡°You do not know whether to trust my words,¡± he said, finally, finally, finally grasping the slightest bit of the mind of a slave, he knew the goblin would deny it. ¡°I would never doubt the words of a brave and honorable a commander!¡± the goblin denied it. Robert heard Trip¡¯s barely controlled laughter and he supposed it was deserved. The words probably would have worked for the powerful the goblin was used to dealing with and they would not have noticed the mockery. For by the standards the orog had proclaimed, it was obvious that he was neither brave, nor honorable. The orog had thought he had foxed Robert, forced him to engage in single combat, or be revealed as a coward and a liar. And in a band of warriors like those who¡¯d followed the orog, that probably would have been a fatal revelation as his own turned upon him. But Robert¡¯s own were soldiers. He had sacrificed his honor and theirs as well at Darien, to keep them under his command and give them, and him as well, the chance to prove their worth. Which they had. And now they killed monsters, without a single casualty. That was honor enough for a soldier. He could, and might, claim that he had never agreed to the orog¡¯s terms and they had not been under the flag of truce, unlike poor Sergeant Merriman. He could, and might, argue that dueling was against the Code of Military Justice. He could, and might, argue that dueling was even more against the rules in time of war when the Union needed every man. He could and might argue that he was a godly man, and did not duel. But the truth was simple, his duty did not allow him to duel while he was responsible for the lives of a regiment. It definitely did not allow him to duel a monster which would likely kill him and then attack his demoralized men. And so he did not. Even if the implication stung his honor and pride. ¡°Why would you believe me or my words?¡± Robert pulled his gloves off and held up his soft hands. ¡°You look at me and see a rich man, or rich man¡¯s son. What do I know of slavery? Or freedom?¡± ¡°I am sure you are a most learned man!¡± ¡°There are things which cannot be learned, but only experienced and I have never experienced them,¡± he turned his head to Trip, who was still trying to suppress his laughter at the goblin¡¯s overt praise and covert mockery. ¡°But he has. Speak with him, Trip. Answer his questions. I will leave you to it and warn those below of the hunters so that you may speak freely. Second squad, with me!¡± he ordered and began marching back to the larger group, ignoring Trip¡¯s attempts to protest. He paused for a moment, ¡°Grandfather, do you know the rites for these men?¡± he asked, waving at the orcs and orog? ¡°No, mast¡ª¡± he flinched at Robert¡¯s glare, which was the opposite of what he wanted, but he couldn¡¯t control the reaction to the term. ¡°Call him colonel,¡± Trip suggested, ¡°it¡¯s what the rest of us poor ex-slaves do,¡± there was a hint of acid there, but not directed at the old man. ¡°No, colonel.¡± ¡°Then we¡¯ll give them a Christian burial down below,¡± Robert¡¯s eyes flicked to the half-eaten corpse beside the stool. ¡°I assume you will have your own rites for him?¡± he nodded towards the corpse. The old goblin nodded cautiously. ¡°Then we will leave you to them. Trip. Grandfather,¡± he nodded to the old man and turned back to the group, grabbing a squad, dropping the boon on the sergeant who was in charge of the remainder and having them secure the top of the mesa and await his return. They made it halfway down before he heard gunshots. From below, not above. He picked up the pace, waving ahead Rawlins and the guards at the foot of the ramp, then his own squad took their place, while he continued on towards the gunshots... He forced himself to march down the path, as running on such a narrow defile with a sheer drop to the side was an invitation to death, especially if the men behind followed suit. They had a clear line of sight to the base and no one could sneak up on their position given the open nature of the country and there was no way he was going to catch up to Rawlins¡¯ men, running across open ground towards the fighting. That didn¡¯t make it any easier to maintain his steady pace. It wasn¡¯t until the bottom that he left the defense of the path in the hand of the senior corporal, as he was missing a sergeant (promotions and reorganization would be needed once he knew who and what he had at his command) and sprinted after Rawlins¡¯ men and towards the gunshots. By the time he reached the area, the battle was over. One of his men was down, but Rawlins was over him and he seemed all right. Five more orcish bodies lay on the ground and the patrol was tense enough that they snapped their rifles around towards him as he approached, before diverting them. ¡°Report.¡± ¡°Got lucky, sir. We spotted them first. But they charged right away. We got the drop on ¡®em while they were still dropping their prey,¡± he pointed to where, indeed, two deer and a number of smaller creatures lay. This set of orcs also had javelins and slings, as well as a few other tools and lengths of ropes, clearly this group was more equipped for hunting. And were skilled at it to, given their prizes. ¡°But they got Charlie.¡± ¡°Sir, he¡¯s stable, but unconscious,¡± Rawlins reported. ¡°I still can¡¯t figure out what the hand gesture is for the [Cure Wounds] spell, sir!¡± frustration filled his voice. Indeed, so far, of all the spells which required hand gestures, only the one for [Mold Earth] had been figured out before he¡¯d brought Thomas and the other half of first platoon over to deal with what Merriman had found. The spells seemed to require up to three components, a vocal component which was just the name of the spell, thankfully. A ¡®somatic¡¯ component which was a hand gesture, which people were mostly still trying to figure out as only one spell¡¯s description (which popped up when they focused on the individual spell name) [Burning Hands] actually described it for some reason.. And a ¡®material component¡¯ which was some sort of item, a sprig of mistletoe, a bit of copper wire, things like that. Most of which the regiment did not possess at this moment. The spellcasters came in a number of varieties, which he still hadn¡¯t absorbed, but some got to choose their limited use ¡®leveled¡¯ spells (though not their infinite number of per-day cast ¡®cantrips¡¯) once a day, he hoped when they did so, they¡¯d be given the instructions for the somatic components of the spells they chose, as the vocal and material components were identified. But that wasn¡¯t happening until tomorrow. ¡°Carry him back to the base camp, along with the food,¡± he ordered. ¡°We¡¯ll handle the bodies.¡± ¡°Yes, sir.¡± Sharts looked nervous, moreso than most. He swiped a hand in front of his face. ¡°Sharts?¡± ¡°Sir, the box won¡¯t go away.¡± ¡°What does it say?¡± ¡°It said ¡®Level Up¡¯ but that one went away, this one says ¡®Select a Fighting Style and then¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t say it! I think that¡¯ll be your choice. Examine them, then you can make a choice.¡± Sharts looked nervous, then glanced at him, ¡°S-s-s-sir, there¡¯s a lot of options here.¡± ¡°Describe them,¡± Robert ordered after a moment. He wanted to push the choice back on to the Private, but leadership was his responsibility. As he listened to the man talk, his mind whirled¡ªlevel up, what could that m¡ªhe¡¯d had a level in his stupid box. Could that go up? His age could, obviously. And presumably his strength and such could rise as well, with proper exercise, but what would have brought Sharts¡¯ level up, and not everyone elses? It took a while, especially as Sharts¡¯ stutter got worse when he was nervous, which he always was around Robert, ever since he¡¯d used the man as a demonstration of the difference between target shooting and combat shooting. There were indeed several options, but most involved melee combat of various sorts, none focused on the use of a bayonet. Then there was one on thrown weapons, which seemed pointless. Another one which theoretically would help aiming of ranged weapons, but Sharts¡¯ aim was excellent already. An ability to fight in total darkness, but only out to 10 feet seemed strikingly useless, but the last one would allow him to choose two ¡®druid¡¯ cantrips and gain them. That was obviously the correct choice, but Sharts was a farm boy and deeply religious, telling him to take something magical into himself... ¡°I will ask that you choose that one. We need to figure out what the hand gestures are and I hope if we actually learn one it will tell us what they are. Sharts nodded. Then we worked through the spell choices. This was equally painful, though Sharts instantly chose the [Control Flame] spell ¡®to make sure nothing would burn again¡¯ said for once without his usual stutter, which was a disturbing insight into the man¡¯s history. The obvious one to go along with that was [Create Bonfire] as [Control Flame] only let him control existing flames, not create them, but given the new insight, Robert did not push him in that direction. Eventually they landed on the [Mending] spell to repair equipment. As hoped, they got the hand gesture for them. Sharts smiled broadly as casually put out a torch they¡¯d lit to test it, then made a floating cross appear in it when it was relit. That was reassuring, as it meant they should get those components for everything. Unfortunately, the [Mending] cantrip required two lodestones which they did not have as a material component. Even more unfortunately for Robert¡¯s patience and Sharts¡¯ nerves, the next portion of the ¡®leveling up¡¯ process was that Sharts got the spellcasting feature and two known spells which he had to select. He also had an opinion on one of these, he really wanted the [Goodberry] spell which created 10 small berries, each of which allegedly could feed a man for an entire day, to make sure he would never go hungry again. Though it had a material component of a sprig of mistletoe, which they rather lacked. The second one, most of the options were about the use of bows, or traps, which were of limited interest, so he agreed to go with [Cure Wounds] which gave us the somatic component for that spell. Unfortunately, he was not granted any usage of those spells until the next day, but Robert put him to showing Rawlins, who managed to use his last spell for the day to cast [Cure Wounds] on the injured soldier, which at least closed his wounds and woke him up, though he and Merriman were being kept at the base of the mesa, under guard until they could be brought up and give more secure housing. Once that was done, he asked Sharts to check and indeed, his level had risen to 2. And, he noted, his EXP had risen to 317/900. Which prompted Robert to check, his own had only reached 35/300. Strange. He¡¯d need to look into that, but for now, he sent a squad back to the clearing, to bring everyone else, except two squads, left to secure the field in case more of the regiment came through. Thomas was continuing the ditch and men were collecting water from the river, though someone had already gathered wood for a fire and had a few kettles and pots prepared, while others were dressing the recovered animals and preparing spits and pans for those who had such. A couple of the salvaged axes were missing, which was fair enough, they had only a few hatchets, rather than anything intended for gathering significant firewood. But the salvage pile had grown as the hunting party¡¯s gear was claimed as well. Eleven corpses lay off to the side, with another half dozen or so up above. Tiredly, he added policing the fields for any dropped percussion caps, or recovered bullets, as supply was going to be a problem, before he looked up the path to the Mesa and grabbed another group to march up and retrieve the other bodies. Those needed to be dealt with efficiently. Field fortification continued, as did setting up tents, all organized by sergeants as the rest of the officers were back in the field, gathering information...someone should have taken the initiative to follow the group Robert had brought, but that was something he¡¯d work out later. They only had the smaller, dog tents for 2-4 men, though he hoped at least one of the larger Sibley Bell tents had come through, as trying to command things from the open, or a dog tent would not be pleasant to command out of. And given they had no earthly idea about the climate... The soldiers were commendably cautious. No one was going anywhere alone and most people were moving about in groups of 3-5. After what had happened thus far today, that seemed very reasonable to Robert. Between the marching, the fighting and the talking, and the dying, Robert found himself quite tired, though the sun wasn¡¯t yet too low in the sky. He nodded to the handful on noncoms who¡¯d organized everything and gave orders to prepare a camp below, the mesa, where at least they¡¯d be able to see any threats coming thanks to the open ground. Then he headed up to the mesa again. If they were really going to base off it, the next thing he was doing was having a fence put in along the side of the trail and maybe broadening the thing as well. He doubted magical healing could fix ¡®fell off the top of a mesa.¡¯ But as he topped the mesa he saw the result of his abandonment of Trip. Varrarg: Confusion It had been a bad few seasons for Varrarg Breakleg and the Settled Feet. Well, years really. First there had been bad harvests in both the main mushroom caverns that left people starving. Then there had been an outbreak of the frothing madness in the Giant Rats, that some goblins had caught, and meant they had to kill any infected (rats and goblins alike) and hurl their bodies from the top of the walls towards the river, and three of those who¡¯d tried that had been killed by terrible flying monsters. Then, when they finally started recovering from that, there had been the shitting plague which weakened most of the families, striking down the elders especially. That had lead to all the arguing between Big Tujit Nonose and Little Tujit Nonose, who both thought they should be in charge of the biggest family remaining in the clan. Though clan was overstating it, they¡¯d never been that organized, even before the Orcs had come in and killed all the adult Nonoses. Ever since there ancestors fled the Old Masters in the Deep Dark, with only their Giant Rats, the clothes on their backs, the tools and chains of their slavery, and the spores for the mushrooms they grew down below, the (then) Fast Runners had been more a collection of people than a clan. She¡¯d thought they were starting to come together under Breakleg leadership after the plague, except the Nonoses, but the other families...and then the Breaklegs had lost the lower caverns, the most productive mushroom growing ground to that monster, which had also cut them off from the lower rat nests. Then some orcs, running (though they¡¯d never admit it) from their own defeat at the hands of a rival clan had seen the smoke from their fires above, scaled the great walls that defended them and massacred their would-be leaders and would-be warriors all in a single night, forcing them back into servitude. Now, new figures came, humans (or so the orcs had identified them) who¡¯d snuffed out the orcs as easily as the orcs had snuffed out the Nonoses, who built a ramp up from the ground to their walls in a single day. Who commanded weapons that ¡®Trip¡¯ claimed were not magic, but that anyone could use. Who said they were here to rescue them. And who smelled even stranger than orcs. A young and stupid part of her, the part that had always wanted to go down into the forest and search for the wolves they could hear some nights, which legend said their ancestors had ridden into battle, wanted to believe them. But the world was not kind to those who hoped. Her own mate and most of her children and grandchildren had been lost with the lower cavern, along with the hope for her family to dislodge the Nonoses as the most numerous and powerful family in the clan. Another had been eaten in front of her by Gaturn the Orog, with her unable to do anything about it. Yes, one had been saved by the humans and even now was resting in the caverns beneath their feet, recovering from a beating delivered while he was surrounded by ¡®clanmates¡¯ too frightened, or disinterested to do anything about it. She¡¯d give the lead human this, he wasn¡¯t stupid, or a coward. He was smart enough to realize Varrarg didn¡¯t trust him. Not that she was any more likely to believe another, even bigger human, even if they claimed he¡¯d been a slave too. So what? Being a slave didn¡¯t mean they were on the same side. If there was one thing slavery had taught her, it was that it was every goblin for themselves. And maybe their family. Even moreso than usual. Usually you needed to work together, if only to survive. Goblins needed salt from the dry lake, water from the spring, meat and milk from the rat pens and mushrooms from the farms in order to live. And they wanted the mushroom beer brewed by the brewers, their metal beaten into new shapes, or sharpened by the smith, earthenware from the cave of clay walls, tanned giant rat hides, the wood collected from the top of the walls, or even outside them occasionally, and the use of the huts at the top of the walls for privacy and ritual and the many more exotic mushrooms that grew only in various family holds, that made your head buzz, the rarer ones that might punish, or even kill a rival, and to find a mate, find good work for their children and compete in the various games which let you show off and filled the parts of the days which weren¡¯t busy staying alive. Of course, you also needed to honor the ancestors who¡¯d sneaked, raced and when it couldn¡¯t be avoided, fought their way through the Deep Dark to bring them to this promised land, where no one had tried to kill or enslave them. Until now. Now, admittedly, her desire to honor the ancestors who had brought them here was significantly lower than it had once been. But even so, as a ¡®clan¡¯ they¡¯d had to work together. As slaves, she had seen the truth of things as goblins betrayed one another to stay alive, or just get a bite of food. It was a miracle none of them had betrayed the secret tunnel down off their walls into the monster-filled woods. Though she supposed everyone who knew of it was keeping it secret for their own use if (when) things went wrong. And the orcs didn¡¯t bother questioning their victims before killing them, or giving them time to try to bargain. She¡¯d probed the human for information, of course, and was reasonably sure he was speaking the truth about these ¡®guns¡¯ that they were using. Those were of significant interest, as they didn¡¯t rely on the strength of the wielder. Even a goblin could kill an orc, or a human, with one of them. Even when circumstances didn¡¯t let them engage in their ancestrally preferred mode of combat, cutting sleeping throats. Not that they did much of that inside the walls, but the orcs had certainly expected it of them, it matched most of the stories of their ancestors and it had been what the handful of goblins who tried to resist had attempted and what the ones who¡¯d tried to dislodge the monster below had tried. In neither case had it worked. But she was also sure they were outnumbered, after the culling by the orcs and though the man had inadvertently revealed the strange fact that humans couldn¡¯t see in the dark, with his surprise that the goblins and orcs could, they were not stupid and were planning to set guards. Unfortunately, Varrarg had therefore revealed their one significant advantage. Strangely, the man had also pushed on some sort of strange obsession with floating blue square containers, but Varrarg could not assist him there, as she¡¯d never seen or heard of such a thing. They had some earthenware, clay and leather containers, but they were all round. She considered trying to lie about that, of course, but without knowing what these ¡®boxes¡¯ contained, that seemed unlikely to be successful. There were more loud noises--gunshots and goblins who had been sticking their heads out of their hiding places ducked back, but Varrarg forced herself to follow Trip over to the side of the walls, where they looked down into the distance. Varrarg¡¯s distance vision was not great, no goblin¡¯s was, but she saw them emerge, carrying one wounded man and then dragging the corpses of the orc hunters. Unlike the orcs who had mostly abandoned their few wounded to the tender mercies of their fate, the wounded human was carefully cared for and after a few moments, she saw a flash of magic, the sort that the tales said the Old Masters had used and even whispered one of the ancestors had possessed, but this was clearly healing, as the figure then rose. Still, it made her nervous. More goblins had trickled out again and several were pestering Trip with questions about where they had come from and why they were here. This was a large group, all wearing fancy clothes of the same make and fighting under strange cloth markers of identity, which not even the more traveled orcs had recognized, though they had called them ¡®banners¡¯. Trip¡¯s answer was as blunt and unbelievable as the ¡®Colonel¡¯s¡¯ declaration of their intentions. They had died and all been transported here for some unknown reason and given power. Varrarg knew nothing of the gods, even their existence was just a vague recollection of old tales, gods their ancestors had cursed for abandoning them to the old masters. The only ones the Settled Feet respected were their own ancestors who had freed them...just like these humans had. Given their behavior, she was fairly sure she could survive a direct question and it would probably scare off the cowardly other families, or at least make them back off. ¡°Trip, what do you want from us?¡± some of the others did back away at that. ¡°We¡¯re lost. We want a place to rest. Allies who know this area. What can be safely eaten? Where can we go? How do we contact other people?¡± ¡°You killed the last of the Storm Claws, you¡¯ve conquered us. Ask and we will answer you; take whatever, whoever you like we cannot stop you; go wherever you please.¡± the others nodded, no, they were bowing like the orcs liked. Would the humans like it too? They had no other models. ¡°Get up! Stand up straight!¡± the man yelled, fury deep in his bones. Some of the goblins in the back fled, but those closest, within reach obeyed instantly, rather than risk his wrath. ¡°Be men! That¡¯s what I want from you. It¡¯s a choice! To be men, not slaves! I did it. You can too!¡± Eager nods from most of the other goblins, but they¡¯d have eagerly nodded if he told them to grovel on the floor. Varrarg nodded herself, ¡°Yes, yes, you are right, it¡¯s a choice! We do not need your size, or strength, or weapons, it is a choice!¡± Trip¡¯s shoulders fell slightly, then straightened and the ¡®gun¡¯ came off his shoulder. Varrarg flinched, fearing she had been too obvious and was about to prove her point by means of painful death. Then she awkwardly caught the weapon as it was tossed to her. Varrarg shook as Trip approached her, pulling the blade that was strapped to his thigh free, but she couldn¡¯t run. Both because she wouldn¡¯t be able to before Trip reached her and because there was still a line of human soldiers at the top of the path with their ranged weapons and her few remaining family within easy marching distance. She held his ground, because there was no alternative and tried desperately to figure out how the weapon worked. She¡¯d seen it used and loaded, but they¡¯d put something over the snapping part of it before pulling the strange curved handle and that hadn¡¯t happened, would it still work? As her mind raced the blade came up and snapped into place on the end of the weapon, which she had managed to point in his direction.. ¡°I was a slave. Now I¡¯m a soldier of the 54th. Because I chose to be. What are you?¡± ¡°Yeah, Breakleg, you¡¯re a soldier! Take that and go kill the beast! Reclaim the depths your kin lost!¡± sneered Lornig Notchear from where he¡¯d dashed off to hide. Varrarg flinched at the reminder, but Trip¡¯s attention turned on Lornig and it was his turn to flinch. ¡°Beast?¡± ¡°Before the orcs, we held the whole of the walls. Down to where our ancestors filled the path to the Deep Dark. But a bit back something big broke in, it killed everyone in our best mushroom cave, and cut us off from the best rat nest. It¡¯s too big to get any higher through the tunnels, but,¡± Varrarg¡¯s eyes sparkled as she realized something, ¡°if you want to prove yourselves, or just make sure we¡¯ve all got enough to eat, clear the beast out!¡± As Trip opened his mouth to respond there was a sudden crash from the hut the Orog had claimed as his own and smoke began to spill from it. Almost instantly the guards at the top of the walls pointed their weapons directly at it, and everyone else, while Trip moved forward instantly, snatching the weapon out of Varrarg¡¯s unresisting, startled hands. Another goblin came staggering and coughing out of the fog, while the human plunged into it. The fog continued to spread. The soldiers still outside were getting nervous. Which was making everyone else even more terrified than usual, as Varrarg grabbed the goblin, one of the Notchears, by his (not actually notched) ears ¡°What did you do, idiot?¡± ¡°I was just looking! I was just looking!¡± he whined pitifully, as if pity would stay her hands when he was obviously lying. Lornig pushed forward and got pushed back by a Oneeye. ¡°What did you do?¡± she repeated, twisting the ear cruelly in her sharp nails. ¡°I swear, I¡¯ll make your ear match your name, boy!¡± ¡°I just opened a bottle! Who would fill a bottle with smoke?¡± One of the soldiers called ¡°Trip? What¡¯s going on?¡± He got coughing in return, then the phrase ¡®Turn Off Eversmoking Bottle¡¯ came out of the murk and the smoke stopped growing and began to respond to the wind which was a constant presence atop the walls. A moment after that, Trip came out, waving smoke away and holding a fancy-looking bottle. ¡°This was doing it. Didn¡¯t actually have to cough, just thought I did, which was weird.¡± ¡°How¡¯d you know how to turn it off?¡± another soldier asked. Trip smirked and flipped it over, revealing a glowing rune on the bottom. It meant nothing to Varrarg, not did it answer the other man¡¯s question in any way, but it must be some human magic. ¡°That was the orog¡¯s quarters? Mind if we search it?¡± Everyone eagerly indicated that was fine and they were certainly not even thinking of denying the soldiers their duly earned rewards. Or stealing anything they¡¯d rightfully won through blood and smoke. Definitely not. ¡°Good, good, was anything of yours stolen by the orcs? That¡¯s not ours. Just tell us what it is, and we¡¯ll return it.¡± That put them in an awkward position. Things had been stolen by the orcs, of course, but mostly food, or weapons, but they could claim anything they¡¯d seen the orcs using...if they were willing to lie and no one else chose to betray them to the humans for it. And the way he¡¯d laid it out, they definitely couldn¡¯t claim anything they didn¡¯t know about. Varrarg spoke up without hesitation, ¡°There were some weapons, sized for goblins which belonged to the Nonoses, but they¡¯re dead. Food and drink that¡¯s probably all gone. Other than that, they stole the carving of our ancestors. A head sized shiny stone, carved like a goblin¡¯s head.¡± ¡°They didn¡¯t give the weapons back when they rounded you all up to fight?¡± Trip asked, confused. ¡°Didn¡¯t trust us,¡± Varrarg said, leaving the unsaid ¡®do you¡¯ unsaid. She actually wasn¡¯t sure the reasoning. They¡¯d certainly been able to take the weapons, well, more tools than weapons, away from their strongest without any difficulty. ¡°Come on in and grab ¡®em, as soon as the smoke clears,¡± he said. That took a few minutes while they chatted more about the monster. Varrarg didn¡¯t know much, just that it had killed the goblins down there that saw it, and threw rocks/growled at any who tried to sneak in. His questions about the lower caves she could address in greater detail. They were large, almost as large as the base of the walls themselves, and led down to the lowest rat nest, where all the waste from above was dropped down to the rats below (some goblins had tried climbing down there, but the walls were quite slick with waste and all they¡¯d accomplished was feeding some of the rats on goblin, rather than goblin waste. There was also an entrance from above and the previously blocked entrance to the Deep Dark. But after a moment, she chose to reveal the other secret, there was no way to have him clear the monsters and not see the small tunnel that connected to their escape tunnel at the base of the walls. Fortunately for her grandson, you didn¡¯t need to go into the main cave, and could just continue up the escape tunnel, which appeared too small for the massive monster, but still, that drew some glares from the others. No doubt some had thought she was trying to set them up the same way they¡¯d been thinking about trying to set the orcs up, with the same goal. Get them inside and either block off the entrances, or hope they kill enough of each other that their depleted numbers could swarm the rest. Fortunately, the orcs had mostly ignored the actual children, viewing them as too weak to be worth interacting with, so the clan shouldn¡¯t be doomed, even if the adults suffered heavy casualties in such an attack. Whether that would have worked with the orcs...well, anyone willing to really fight had most likely died the first night, but it certainly couldn¡¯t work with the humans, there were simply too many of them. ¡°So we¡¯ll be able to come at ¡®im from two sides. Good...I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t run into the woods with a path out? Threats against those left behind?¡± Varrarg shook her head, ¡°That¡¯s an absolute last resort, the forest ain¡¯t for goblins. It¡¯s full of monsters that eat us.¡± He looked skeptical. ¡°Every so often, young bloods go running off, thinking they¡¯ll find treasure, or meat, or something. Those that come back talk of furry creatures ten times the size of a goblin, with paws as big as a goblin¡¯s torso, claws bigger than spearheads and a maw that can eat a goblin in one bite!¡± she could tell he was impressed by this description, until he started examining goblin sizes and then muttered something to himself that she couldn¡¯t quite make out about ¡®bears¡¯ whatever those were. Regardless, he picked up a stick and passed it to her. ¡°Can you draw the cavern?¡± She was confused, until he demonstrated by drawing the top of the walls. It was a strange way of describing things, as if you were flying above them. But she supposed it was sort of like the view from the top of the walls down at the world below. She¡¯d always loved that view, one of the few times a goblin could look down at something that wasn¡¯t another goblin.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. It took her a while to figure out the distances, but she could pace them easily on top of the walls and then drew it out, the massive central cavern, with its upper balconies of stone, carved by the ancestors when they first arrived, each filled with fungus. The smaller passages leading to the Giant Rat nests and the massive entrance they¡¯d filled with the stone taken carefully during the process of turning the handful of caves within the walls into a proper warren for all their people, before those arts had been lost. She remembered her own father had known them, but there was no use to them, as the walls were fully hollowed out by then, except the rock which resisted even the strongest of goblins and broke picks. By the time the drawing was done, the smoke had dissipated and they headed into what had once been the home of the Nonoses. Varrarg gathered up the weapons and passed them back to various goblins, making sure to give personal belongings back, but distributing those which had belonged to the dead as she saw fit, claiming the best pick for her surviving grandson and the best knife for herself. And, she made sure she came out of the hut, holding the head-sized carved stone which went on the altar to their ancestors. It didn¡¯t, couldn¡¯t, show them all, but its ear was notched, it missed a nose and one eye was gone, marks of the great families of their clan, named for the injuries their ancestors suffered bringing them to this place. She hefted it above her head, with some difficulty and shouted, ¡°Again! We outlast our enemies!¡± The surviving goblins whooped and cheered and she passed it off to a Oneeye, as the altar was right next to their family den. Meanwhile, Trip had turned up a small chest full of strange metal discs and a small number of shining stones, though nothing of interest to her. Though given the way he hefted it awkwardly, maybe there was enough metal weight in their to make something useful? Trip shook his head with condescending bemusement as he watched them, then became rigidly straight, one hand snapping up to his head, palm out. Varrarg turned and saw the Colonel and a number of other men had returned. ¡°Sir, I inspected the leader¡¯s quarters. Found this,¡± he offered the chest. ¡°And it doesn¡¯t belong to the locals?¡± ¡°No, sir, they¡¯ve reclaimed their belongings.¡± ¡°Good,¡± the Colonel said. ¡°Sir, there¡¯s also bottle in there which produces large amounts of smoke. To turn it off, you just need to say the word on the bottom.¡± The Colonel blinked at that, then shook his head, not doubting Trip¡¯s word, just generally annoyed by something. The men behind him were moving towards the orcish bodies, as the Colonel looked over them, smiling slightly, condescendingly at the group of goblins who had gathered and were now armed with their own weapons, such as they were. ¡°Will you introduce me, Private?¡± ¡°Of course. Colonel Shaw commander of the 54th Massachusetts Regiment, Varrarg Breakleg, matriarch of the Breakleg family.¡± The man winced for no particularly obvious reason. She took advantage of the moment to examine him in greater depth than she had before now that she¡¯d spent some time with humans and observing their reactions. There were differences, obviously. The Colonel was shorter and far paler than the more muscular Trip, or the soldiers. Looking at them side-by-side, if not for the greater gold decoration on the Colonel¡¯s uniform, she¡¯d have thought Trip the senior and stronger of the two. But she remembered the Colonel¡¯s blade sliding easily into the throat of the almost defeated orog, ending its pitiful life as easily as it had killed of one of her grandsons when he talked back, using one hand to lift him by the face and then crushing his skull in an iron grip. The different skin tone, combined with the strange hair on his face made her wonder if he was to the other humans as the orog had been to the orcs, but he was smaller than they...though perhaps he had greater magical power than the others? Or he was better at deception than the others, certainly when she¡¯d first seen him, she hadn¡¯t seen the cold-blooded commander who ordered the deaths of the entire Storm Claw Clan and had cut the throat of their leader. Or maybe their skin lightened as they aged? It was only natural for the oldest still hale to lead as their cunning and strength were proven by survival...as she considered this, her warm red eyes caught on his. They were an unnatural and uncanny blue, as dangerous as the river, or the sky above. Ice blue. Death blue. Frightening. Not at all like the natural red of goblin eyes, or the cave darkness of Trip¡¯s... ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± he nodded his head to her. She carefully mimicked the gesture. ¡°Can you speak for your people?¡± he asked. After a moment of thought, she glanced back at the crowd. No one objected, mostly because those who might were afraid they¡¯d be responsible for taking over and taking to the man who commanded this host and had casually cut the throat of the massive orog. ¡°Yes, I speak for the Settled Feet.¡± ¡°Very well. You¡¯ve had an opportunity to speak to Private Trip, which I hope has provided some insight. We are castaways in a strange land and seek a base of operations, local knowledge and local allies do you believe we can¡ª¡± One of the soldiers interrupted, exclaiming something she could not understand in their strange language and waving the orog¡¯s axe¡ªwhich was now far smaller than it had been a moment ago. The Colonel looked over in annoyance. ¡°Excuse me, ma¡¯am. Yes, private?¡± More nonsense words. ¡°What are you bl¡ª¡± he cut himself off. ¡°Ma¡¯am, do you mind holding the axe for a moment?¡± She looked at him in confusion, but stepped forward unwillingly, as she was in no position to deny him. ¡°It changed size to fit the soldier¡¯s hand. He wants to know if it¡¯ll change and fit yours,¡± Trip explained. The Colonel gave him a sharp look, then realized she couldn¡¯t understand the soldier and flushed slightly. ¡°Indeed. My apologies for not explaining.¡± She happily stepped forward and took the massive axe in both hands, it instantly shrunk down to a perfectly comfortable size for her. Everyone stared at it in awe and confusion. ¡°Private, take it down to Corporal Searles and tell him what you saw.¡± Even though she couldn¡¯t understand the words, that was obviously a man glad of his order, who snatched it up, flinching as it grew again and took off down the path with great speed. ¡°My apologies, ma¡¯am, as I was saying. Do you believe we can be allies?¡± She glanced around the top of their walls, where human soldiers were dragging off the corpses of the orcs they had massacred and down to where campfires were already burning at the foot of the ramp they had built to the top of their walls. There was only one answer possible. ¡°Of course, of course.¡± Since they wanted to play at being allies, not rulers, she would go along with it. And get everything she could out of their sentiment and performance. ¡°Ally, I was just telling Trip about the monster which has claimed our lower caverns. Can you assist us?¡± ¡°We can discuss operations tomorrow morning, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°And Trip mentioned how he¡¯d become a soldier, can we do the same?¡± she asked. The Colonel glanced at Trip, who did not react in any way. ¡°We are allowed to enlist volunteers, to make up our numbers, yes. But they would be under military discipline and expected to serve the three year term.¡± She nodded slightly. ¡°And...the recoil on a rifle may be too large for someone of your stature¡­¡± she frowned, then controlled the reaction. She should have known that they would never share their weapons with¡ª¡°so goblin troops would most likely need to be armed with pistols,¡± he drew his and flourished it, ¡°like this one...indeed, that might also solve the kneeling problem for line fire, it always slows maneuvering, but goblins would not need to kneel¡ªor perhaps they could and we could get three lines. Regardless, either way we will need additional materials to craft additional pistols and ammunition. Lead, iron and gunpowder. I will be giving orders tomorrow morning to attempt to set our supply system on a firm basis, if you wish to participate, you are welcome. Indeed, a feast is being prepared below, any who wish to join us are welcome.¡± She nodded and there were many nods at that as her fellows looked eagerly now down at the smoke rising from below. ¡°But before we continue, if we are to be allies, then we should be able to understand one another. I can grant this ability to four of your people, which would you like to choose?¡± With some hesitancy, she chose herself, and the most influential members of the Oneeye and Notchear families. Then sent the idiot who¡¯d messed up his theft of the bottle below to fetch the oldest of those who would have been Nonose children. The family was lost, as the adults could not pass on the name to the new children, but they were almost half of the children below and if they could truly reclaim the lower caverns, then the Breaklegs would need those children to truly recover. As she herself was missing most of her own youngsters, taking the others under her wing and firmly establishing herself as their leader and benefactor would give her a claim on the higher areas as well, given their historical control of the upper mushroom caves. If she could manage it, then she would have a monopoly on the main mushroom caverns and most of the giant rat caverns. To match the Notchears¡¯ control of the salt lake and the Oneeyes control of the spring. The other families had their own specialties, but none were as critical as the four prime families were and would be. After a moment, they¡¯d all been touched gently on the shoulder. As far as she could tell, nothing had happened, until she realized the low rumble she¡¯d been ignoring was someone speaking. The men who were handling the orcish bodies were grumbling about the weight and those who¡¯d been on guard duty were moving to assist them, in response to a quiet order from the Colonel, now that they were allies. That seemed...very trusting. But then again, he could just storm the walls if they turned on him. ¡°Now, ma¡¯am, before we go down, I must ask for you to fulfill your side of our alliance, what do you know of this area?¡± ¡°Little,¡± she admitted. Again, lying was tempting, but if it led to casualties, or discovery, not wise. ¡°We do not leave our walls unless forced, except for the young and stupid, who sometimes go exploring and more often run out to grab some fallen wood to prove their bravery. Some go out, but few return and speak of beasts and monsters. We do not even usually go to the river, for we have seen goblins dragged beneath the waves by strange, scaled creatures. The connections to the Deep Dark were blocked long ago and I have only the tales of our ancestors on the horrors that lurk in the depths.¡± The Colonel was looking more and more disappointed in the results of this alliance, so Varrarg sped on to what they did know. ¡°But we do watch the river. There used to be boats on it sometimes, but that has not been true since before I was born. When I was a babe, we saw orcs frequently at the river, but we had not seen any orcs since I first mated, until they came, but they did not cross the river here, they came from the north.¡± ¡°Orcs to the north and east, monster-filled forest to the west and south, monster-filled river to the east...and this Deep Dark?¡± ¡°Endless caverns and tunnels beneath the ground, filled with the worst kind of monsters. Our ancestors escaped to this place, this one safe place in all the world for us...until the orcs,¡± and you. No safety anywhere. ¡°No safety anywhere,¡± his words unknowingly echoed her thoughts, but then he smiled and went an entirely different, and insane, direction, ¡°well then, we have work to do to tame these lands. How long is it until winter?¡± She blinked at that, then supposed they must be clinging to Trip¡¯s story about magical transportation. ¡°The snows have all melted and things are beginning to grow again, Colonel,¡± she said. Though what he heard was ¡°It¡¯s spring, Colonel,¡± he did notice the difference, as her mouth moved a lot more than would make sense for the words he¡¯d heard. ¡°Probably the best we could hope for. We¡¯ll need salt to preserve what we can catch, water won¡¯t be a problem,¡± he glanced towards the river, ¡°but we have no livestock and¡­¡± his voice trailed off, ¡°a problem for tomorrow. For now, a feast is being prepared, and all are welcome! Before it begins, we will hold the ritual burials for the fallen.¡± ¡°Sorry, sorry, sorry that you had losses saving us!¡± Lornig butted in, as nothing had gone wrong so far and he saw a chance to curry favor. The Colonel frowned slightly and Lornig quailed. ¡°None of ours fell. These are ritual burials for the orcs. Obviously, if you wish to bury any of your own, we can make room below?¡± he glanced slightly to where Putric Oneeye¡¯s body had been lying. His kin must have taken him below at some point while everyone was talking. ¡°No need, no need, the Oneeyes will take care of their lost,¡± Kirric Oneeye said. He nodded politely. ¡°I apologize for prying, but I must ask, have you ever heard of our Lord God and his only son, Jesus Christ?¡± Again, she wanted to lie, as he clearly, desperately, wanted the answer to be yes, but that would leave her open to questions she couldn¡¯t possible answer. ¡°I am afraid not, but I¡¯m sure they¡¯re both fantastic! We¡¯d be happy to serve your lord and his heir!¡± Lornig got there first, though she was probably going to say almost the same thing. Though Lornig had clearly mistaken god for a name, rather than a class. ¡°Jesus isn¡¯t¡ªthis can be discussed at another time. Have you ever heard of the United States of America?¡± This time they confined themselves to shaking heads, which continued as he listed a dozen other increasingly confusingly named organizations, none of which they had ever heard of. ¡°If we can reclaim your lower caverns, how many people besides yourselves do you think they can feed?¡± Everyone looked at her, as she was the only one who might know. Except...she didn¡¯t, both for the reason she was about to give and because she had no idea how much humans ate. Orcs had certainly eaten more than goblins, humans probably would too, but how much more? She didn¡¯t know. ¡°It depends what they¡¯ve done to it. Our mushrooms grow fast, but not that fast.¡± He nodded. ¡°We obviously have sufficient water and wood, I doubt you have saltpeter?¡± ¡°We have salt!¡± Lornig eagerly cut in, as his family controlled the salt lake. He was smiling broadly, and several humans flinched at the sight¡ªdid they not like the sight of goblin teeth? They were different, perhaps the sight unsettled them? Something to remember, she could keep her teeth behind her lips. ¡°Different thing,¡± the Colonel muttered, then, as Lornig¡¯s face fell in a comical manner, he managed a smile, ¡°but good news indeed, it can supply us all?¡± ¡°Oh, yes, there¡¯s plenty of salt!¡± ¡°Good, good, the other things we¡¯ll need are iron, sulfur, copper and lead.¡± That got a chorus of confused looks, except at iron, and all the iron they had was carefully recycled by their one smith from the occasional item scavenged by brave goblins if something had been seen being dumped by a ship camped on the shore or lost in the river by the ships which used to pass by, or which their ancestors had brought with them from the Deep Dark. Again, it fell to her to give the bad news, as no one else would. ¡°Sorry, no idea.¡± He nodded, ¡°Better than I feared, worse than I hoped,¡± several goblins cringed, expecting a beating, or some other punishment, but he simply clapped his hands together, ¡°well then, ritual burials and then a feast!¡± he smiled and headed back down, this time Trip followed him. After a moment, Varrarg did as well, which was the cue for the others to stream down, though they formed familial knots around the individuals who could now understand the humans. As they walked down, she was able to make out the camp they had set up in greater detail and only barely kept her jaw from dropping. The ramp being completed all had known about, as a goblin had been sent, crawling on his belly down to keep an eye on the ropes and call up when they were used, only for the humans to not need them, instead building a ramp and marching up. He¡¯d barely made it back. She did wonder at the limited use of her goblins. She wouldn¡¯t figure out the reason for it for some time and when she did, she almost laughed. They hadn¡¯t been sent to their deaths in futile attacks, for the same reason they hadn¡¯t been given back their weapons, because the orcs didn¡¯t think they were ¡®worthy¡¯ of them, or of combat. They had truly only been intended as shields to delay the human advance and confuse the issue. The ramp was expected and not entirely impressive, being barely compacted dirt, compared with the stone path that circled most of the way done. But the camp below was already spreading out. The bodies of every member of the Storm Claws lay out to the north, near the edge of the walls, inside a ditch that had somehow been dug all the way from the north edge of the wall, around the areas which had campfires and rows of rising fabric huts. More fabric than she¡¯d ever seen in one place. She¡¯d been impressed by the fabric uniforms the humans were all wearing. You could have dressed a dozen goblins in one of their uniforms, you could have dressed the entire clan in one of their fabric huts. She herself, besides her breech-cloth, only wore the scarf woven from the hair of her ancestors and children that marked her as the family leader and that was more than most. The ditch continued on, south, to encompass an area as large as the top of the walls, then drove straight towards the river. As she watched, a man extended it further by simply pointing and the dirt leapt out, creating a trench deeper than a goblin¡¯s height and a moment later, the mound she hadn¡¯t realized was being created extended further. Both trench and...wall were almost to the river, where a party was filling containers and carrying them back and another was standing guard. Indeed, she saw guards on careful watch all over the place. Her eyes caught on the flapping banners which stood tall and proud over the camp. One had thirteen red and white alternating stripes filling most of it, but in the upper left hand quarter, it was entirely blue, except for a number of white stars. The other was mostly white with with an elaborate figure and symbol in the middle But what caught her attention were the squiggles around the figure, which the Colonel¡¯s magic translated as words, somehow, despite her not being literate, or even aware of the existence of writing, besides that Trip had mentioned on the bottle mere moments ago. It was not only the existence of the words, but rather their content which startled her, ¡°By the sword we seek peace, but peace only under liberty.¡± They were really committed to that bit. More men moved out of the forest, forming a single unit, which formed strange ordered patterns at a word from the Colonel and yelled commands from a number of other humans. He waited as the others gathered, before he finally spoke, lowering his head, as the others did the same. ¡°Soldiers of the 54th, this day began with our deaths and it ends with the deaths of our enemies. For ourselves, we can only thank the merciful Lord for plucking us from the battlefield and giving us a second chance to serve his great works. For our enemies¡­¡± he raised his head, looking to the darkening sky above, ¡°Oh, almighty God, we do not know the names, or homes, or causes of those we inter here. We only know that they sinned mightily and fought mightily and fell mightily. For all the wrongs these poor heathens did, they surely suffered greatly in never learning of your grace and mercy. I commend these souls to your care and pray they can find a gentler hand there then they did here on¡ªthis world. And we thank you for your care, that allowed us victory without loss of any soldiers of the 54th, your children and your servants. We beseech you, Lord, in this strange land, to shelter us from our enemies and strengthen us to serve your cause, through Jesus Christ, our Lord. In your name, we commit these bodies to the ground and to their fate. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Let it be so.¡± They chorused ¡®Let it be so¡¯ back to her as the first body was lowered, the Colonel stood at their strange rigid, frozen posture, with his hand raised to his head until the last body was lowered and then snapped his arm down sharply and relaxed. The others did as well as each was filled in by a single gesture from the spellcaster and an unmarked cross of crudely carved wood, bound together with string, which, to Varrarg¡¯s eyes represented a fair bit of work with carefully harvested hair, was placed at the head of each of the graves. She noted a man with lighter hair and wrinkles...which suggested the Colonel was not merely an old human, or first they aged as goblins, then their skin lightened as well and the wrinkles went away...that seemed unlikely...regardless, the man who would have seemed aged as a goblin kept his head bowed far longer than the rest. Then the Colonel raised his hands, ¡°And now, let us celebrate our survival! Tomorrow I will have new orders for you all, but for tonight, all those not on watch should enjoy the feast!¡± A few moments later he¡¯d vanished and men began to eat, drink and make merry, in a manner which would naturally make a goblin nervous, but she forced herself to remain, take a piece of the offered cooked beast in her grip (noting the metal cups, or plates which many of the soldiers used, another indication of their absurd wealth, even the best off goblins ate off of wood, or stone, not metal). It was...delicious. Not necessarily better than giant rat, but she had been denied that since the orcs took over, as they demanded all the meat, leaving them with an uninteresting diet of mushrooms. And eating through the rats in the upper (accessible) pens far faster than they could breed, without the lower pens to replenish the stock, there would be great difficulties. As she hungrily wolfed down the food, she sought out the old man who¡¯d kept his head down longer than the rest and began to speak to him about their strange beliefs, the better to understand and suck up to the new overlords of the Settled Feet. Interlude: Flow In the fortress city of Ghurek¡¯s Glory, three ships sit in a rarely used port. They are almost finished, missing only the oars and rowers. Many more partially constructed ships fill the port. The city¡¯s warlord (Ghurken) had a plan. To secretly build a large fleet and then storm down the river, flanking the elves defenses, overwhelming the summoned elementals which blocked the passage usually and allowing them to build a fortress south of the elves¡¯ position, forcing the outnumbered enemy to split their forces. It would be the border cities who conquered, but all would know it was because of his cunning plan. Soon. Soon. Soon, his plan would have been ready to put into operation thanks to the vast slave workforce and resources he was pulling from the forested heart of his domain. But that plan had to be put on hold. Something was happening to the east. Those lands were usually more a training grounds and a source of fresh slaves than anything else, as the ill-disciplined orcs who occupied the foothills beneath the mountainous cities and fortresses of the hobgoblins had been no match for them ever since Hurgin the Great united all of the legions in the mountains. Even before that, their only successes had come when the hobgoblin legions were weakened from fights against one another. No one knew what was going on, but the armies of the mountain were marching east at the call of the Warlord of Warlords and despite Warlord Ghurken¡¯s argument that his plan would work as well on the east side of the river as the west, he had been ordered to march and was preparing to march, with most of his forces and a baggage train of slaves and servants. It wouldn¡¯t be too soon, as there were only so many paths through the mountains and though the current Warlord of Warlords was not Hurgin¡¯s equal, she was more than a match for the logistical challenge of organizing the legions so they did not crash into one another, and so none were insulted by being behind a legion with which they had old feuds. This Flow knew from carefully listening to the polite discussion of the hobgoblin leaders of her team of slave workers who had actually been building the ships. From listening to the rather less polite discussions between the goblin workers (well, slaves, really, but better off slaves than her and her nongoblinoid fellows), she heard fearful whispers that the orcs were trying to unify, just as the hobgoblins had more than two hundred years ago. And the Warlord of Warlords was trying to make sure they couldn¡¯t. But this would be no mere enslavement, or execution of some wandering warband, but true war. Soon. Soon. Soon, the hobgoblins would fulfill their purpose to their dark gods and coat the ground in blood as they sought conquest. None of that mattered to Flow, the water genasi cared about this only because it meant that an incredibly rare opportunity had arisen, one she and her sister had been waiting for, for years. As they could swim like fish and breathe underwater, they¡¯d been invaluable for work on the ships and port generally. But, that also meant that they were more watched, as it would be so easy for them to escape. The solution was as simple as it was effective, they were never allowed into the water at the same time. And if one ran, the other would be executed. It was a typical hobgoblin solution to a problem. Efficient, effective and cruel. But with the army marching out, they would have their chance!Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. Not all the hobgoblins would be going of course, especially not the Iron Shadows, that secretive organization that watched for internal troubles and dealt with them silently. Well, silently until it came time for the public execution, but they didn¡¯t handle that part. Just the ferreting our of plots. Which was why she and her sister, the even more creatively named (or renamed, for their names had been given by goblin overseers when they were captured as children and neither used their original names while slaves) River, were keeping their plan extremely tight. This was an unprecedented chance, once the army marched out, it would be their best chance. They¡¯d steal all three boats, if everything went to plan. If not, they¡¯d steal one and burn the others. Or just steal one and trust the elves would let them through and handle any pursuit. Which meant they needed oars. Which meant they needed wood, which meant in addition to all her normal work, she was searching for good quality driftwood, which she would then hide where it could be retrieved, dried and shaped into oars. And spears, as they¡¯d need to handle a handful of hobgoblin guards and scare off a bunch of goblin overseers. Fortunately, bugbears were generally too lazy to bother coming down to the docks, and too worried about getting their fur wet, which left them miserable, so they were unlikely to face any of the massive goblinoids. They¡¯d need other things of course. Food most obviously, but also things like barrels to hold food and water, tools to shape the wood into spears and oars, tar or oil to fire the other boats if parts of the plan failed and hopefully any old charts or maps of the river, though she and River could swim ahead to spot any shallow points. But those supplies weren¡¯t her problem. Soon. Soon. Soon. Okay, eventually, she and the others would escape down the river to freedom! It was the opposite direction as their old home, as the Warlords generally exchanged captured slaves to make sure each would have to cross the entire length of their domains to reach their homes. But past the orcs there were human nomads...who probably weren¡¯t friendly to random groups of ex-slaves, but there was also supposed to be some sort of free city at the end of the river. And they¡¯d have a ship they could sell, or work. And they¡¯d be free. No more cowering. No more hoping hobgoblins or goblins look past them when they want a bit of sport. No more temptation to just swim away and pretend they wouldn¡¯t kill her sister. Freedom. It would come. Soon. Soon. Soon. Robert: Dawn There was no one to play reveille. The fact that the buglers had survived was a bit odd, but habit still woke most of the men and the rest responded to loud voices and maybe some kicks from non-commissioned officers. Robert had barely slept, planning to rely on a brief nap and coffee to get him through the next day. He had spent the, too short, night reviewing everything he knew, all the information that had been gathered and the handful of pieces of information in his own brain. He would have preferred to write it down, but his diary, like most of the available paper (other than bibles and a handful of other books) had been donated to the wizards, who apparently had to create spellbooks to be able to properly use their magic, unlike the others. Fortunately, they were being given ¡®one free¡¯ which didn¡¯t mean they were given a spellbook, but allowed to create one without having to pay the ¡®gp¡¯ cost. Which seemed likely to be an acronym for gold piece. And so, he was to be denied one of the few comforts he had, writing, whether letters to his family, or in his own diary. He had removed the filled pages and tucked them into his breast pocket before turning it over to Thomas, for distribution. At least that spared him needing to try to come up with an explanation for the treasure hoard which was now sitting in his tent to his family. Between that provided to ¡®Rogues¡¯ and the loot from the orcs, 810 gold pieces. 800 silver pieces and 2100 copper pieces, which were destined to be percussion caps, if anyone knew how to make the material which caused them to work. He sure didn¡¯t. He didn¡¯t even know how to make the Minie-balls they fired, though he knew they were lead over iron. Gunpowder he at least knew the ingredients and basic proportions, but percussion caps were a mystery besides their copper cases. For that matter, he didn¡¯t know how to make the paper needed for the cartridges. Which was, of course, Cabot¡¯s point and why his second in command was right. Yes, he had to keep them together and maintain his separation from the men, an officer needed that. He¡¯d seen all too often in his two years of service how bad it could get when that separation was not maintained. Especially with elected officers, who might need to defend their position, reward supporters, or play favorites. He hadn¡¯t agreed with the sneers with which the regular Army officers had greeted the volunteers, but it had to be admitted that they were right about the degree of separation needed from the line troopers. They needed to believe you cared and would fight for them, but they also needed to believe you knew best and were impartial, which required distance¡­ But these circumstances would not allow him to remain as separated and superior as he had been acting. That was a route to swift failure and death. No one man knew everything that the regiment, that the company, that the company and its allies¡ªdeep breath, begin again. No one man knew everything that was needed to survive and establish a successful colony. Though that would also require human women, but that was a problem for later. The problem of the moment was survival and supply and for that, he needed every mind and every pair of hands. Even little things could help. Cabot figuring out the hand gesture for [Prestidigitation] was incredibly useful. The flavoring and warming of food were minor comforts which would help keep everyone happy, but the real time saver was cleaning items. It worked on uniforms, which would save innumerable hours and the need to assign men to laundry services. It still needed to be tested on rifles and other weapons and equipment, but if it worked there as well, then it would save significant upkeep time as well. Cabot¡¯s method of figuring out the gestures required, thinking about the description and what hand gesture made sense and figuring out that it was snapping your fingers theatrically, was not necessarily helpful with the other spells, but hopefully the method used with Sharts would work on the others. ¡®Leveling up¡¯ his men was one route to power and survival, hopefully. But that was just how Cabot drove home the point. Robert had a hundred brains, well, a hundred and eleven, actually and two hundred, or two hundred and twenty-two hands. Trying to figure everything out himself was just stupid. Which hadn¡¯t stopped him from spending the night reading the giant list of information gathered by his officers, in order to figure out the outline of what needed to be done and who might be capable of doing it. Then he¡¯d needed Cabot, as the other man knew everyone in the regiment, their names, their history, their skills. When he¡¯d found the time, Robert didn¡¯t know, but he¡¯d been able to put skills and names to faces. So, what he needed to do was break the tasks up and put those minds and hand to work. The first step was to gain understanding and control of the many new abilities the men had gained. His own healing had proven astoundingly effective...what else might he gain if he ¡®leveled-- According to the report from Captain Simpkins, who had done a delightfully thorough job, there were thirteen ¡®classes.¡¯ Commoner, Fighter, Wizard, Artificer, Sorcerer, Bard, Cleric, Druid, Barbarian, Rogue, Monk, Ranger, andPaladin. Of those, six had the spellcasting trait, and Ranger at least gained it at level 2. Perhaps they all would, who knew how this worked? But the initial point was that the Druid, Cleric and Artificerall got to select their spells every day, so by having their 13 Clerics, 7 Druids and 7 Artificers learn all spells which overlapped, they could teach the hand gesture components to those who needed them. Since the Artificers for some reason needed tools they were proficient in, rather than material components, they should focus on those spells, which meanthe¡¯d spent some time cross-referencing the various spell lists to create a list of the spells which people should attempt to get, which would eventually be almost all of them. The [Charm Person] spell would not be acquired, as he was issuing orders banning its use altogether, as well as the [Friends] cantrip, which both were wildly immoral. Most spells could simply be treated like any other action taken against another person, but anything which tampered with the mind was trespassing on God¡¯s grant of free will to man and would not be tolerated. But most spells¡¯ hand gestures would need to be learned quickly as they had many problems and few tools. He wasn¡¯t casting any nonblasphemous ones away without cause. That had been when Cabot had found him, doing work he should have had Simpkins doing. He¡¯d been smart enough to put Cabot himself on the inventory and received a nice, short, summary of what they had and what they didn¡¯t. They were lucky, despite none of their mules, horses or carts (let alone any of the other livestock) which had followed them coming through, they had their own base rations and the company supplies for two of the companies, leaving them with (besides each individuals¡¯ supplies for three days), a number of staples, and, critically, a large amount of beans, peas, rice, green coffee and potatoes. Those were the only things which even might be able to grow in this new environment. All their grain was in the form of flour, which was good for portability, but not for growing more. Each man had his 40 balls, 40 cartridges and 50 percussion caps (as the small caps tended to be fumbled/lost more often, more were issued), but that was the extent of their supply, none of the larger company or regimental supplies had come through. Why he could not have said. They¡¯d fired 53 shots destroying the Storm Claws, and at his orders, scouring had retrieved about half that number of percussion caps and bullets. Neither could be reused, but they might be recycled, if someone knew how and knew how to make the explosive that caused the percussion cap to go off when impacted by the hammer. Or if some magic could do it. Thus far, most of the magic was focused on combat and strictly worse than just shooting people. The healing was far and away the most impressive, but out of combat spells were somewhat limited otherwise. The most immediately useful was the [Light] spell, which would save them a great deal of time...if they could find fireflies, or phosphorescent moss, which were the required material component. As it lacked any gestures, and the verbal portion was [Light], combined with the fact that the cantrip was one of the most commonly possessed, meant that it should be extremely useful, especially in the battles underground, which were undoubtedly to come. But they still needed that component. The [Create/Destroy Water] spell might be helpful in a siege, but they were right next to a river. For now, it was of theoretical interest, as was the [Detect Magic] spell, or [Comprehend Languages] given his own boon, though he was running out of uses for it. [Druidcraft]¡¯s weather prediction functions would have been fantastic...if not for the fact that it had a gesture, which no one knew, and as it was a cantrip, which people didn¡¯t get to change, everyone was stuck guessing. Or the druids were stuck guessing. In retrospect, he wished he¡¯d pushed Sharts to choose that one, but he¡¯d been too focused on other concerns. [Mending] had a material component they still needed to find, but again, might spare massive amounts of time on repair/replacement of gear. [Unseen Servant] might help with camp work, but until he knew where this invisible ghostlike apparition was being summoned from, he was unwilling to risk it, even if the boxes claimed that it was mindless and soulless. Too much like slavery, or their own sudden arrival here. And the [Floating Disc] spell acting as a floating beast of burden might make up for their lack of pack animals...except its material component was a drop of mercury, which they didn¡¯t have access to! But by far the most long term useful spell was undoubtedly going the be [Purify Food And Drink]. A ritual spell, which meant it could be cast indefinitely rather than using limited spell slots, so long as the caster took the needed ten minutes and it would remove all diseases and poisons from food. Disease killed more men than bullets and being able to ensure their food was good would make it stretch further and keep his men alive. Given the healing spells already existing, he was upset there wasn¡¯t already one which cured disease and could only hope more powerful spells would become available. The existence of some spells which indicated variable effects if cast ¡®using higher level spell slots¡¯ seemed to support that notion. Though higher level spell slots didn¡¯t necessarily mean higher level spells to go along with them, but the organization certainly suggested it. That just took him back to the question of ¡®leveling up.¡¯ After some late night discussion with Cabot, and pestering a few folks for their EXP totals, it seemed clear that what gave EXP, whatever that was, was combat. And not merely combat, if so, more men should have the same amounts, but it appeared that for some reason, Sharts and Trip had been credited with more EXP than the others. The best they could come up with was that EXP was pooled for shared combat, but for Sharts¡¯ sniper kills, he got full credit and Trip got the full credit for the one he¡¯d killed hand-to-hand. Whether because no one else had interfered for fear of hitting him, or because of the nature of the combat was unclear. But that was all mere speculation, whatever was happening was neither clear, not intuitive and what EXP was an acronym for had distracted their increasingly tired minds for some time into silliness. So, his plan had been set when he finally took his nap, coffee waiting beside his bedroll to awaken him fully. He did not oversleep, but his plan still fell apart instantly, because of two events that occurred almost simultaneously. First, he woke up and a box appeared. Before he could even glance at it, Sergeant Merriman and Private Wilson burst in, ¡°Sir, sir, our wounds are gone! We¡¯re fully healed!¡± Both of them had their shirts off and did a little twirl, revealing, indeed the wounds which had been partially healed by spellwork and his [Lay on Hands] were now simple scars. Robert stared for a moment, then poked the scar, Merriman stood their proudly. ¡°Is this something you did?¡± he asked, eagerly. ¡°No...please check with our goblin allies, the Settled Feet if this is normal, then start falling the men in for orders, Sergeant,¡± he ordered after a moment, his plans for the day thrown off by the sudden, strange revelation and reminder of the strange land they had found themselves in. Men healing from a spell, or strange ability granted by the boxes was one thing. Men healing from a good night¡¯s sleep...like that, was quite another. But perhaps the magic kept working? It indicated it healed ¡®HP¡¯ but how exactly that interacted with injuries was ambiguous... As the men left, he turned his attention back to the box.
Quest Complete! You¡¯ve completed the quest: Defeat the Storm Claws! Reward: 10 100 EXP Reward Boxes and 1 Random Reward Box (Elite Tier)!
¡°Quest? What quest?¡± he muttered and another set of boxes appeared. But overlaid atop the rest was a single box:
Quest Screen limited functionality mode. GM assigned quests will only be revealed upon completion. Those directly assigned by NPCs will be visible upon assignment. System rewards will not be visible unless earned.
What exactly any of that meant was up entirely unclear, but worrisome, especially the mysterious GM, NPCs and System which all had the audacity to believe they could simply assign him quests, like some aristocratic fop speaking to a feudal knight. The South might have been entranced by chivalry and aristocracy, but he certainly wasn¡¯t and no one save God and the Union had the right to assign him quests! Regardless, having read it, it vanished and let him see the boxes beneath. There were dozens of them, hundreds of them, almost all completely black rather than the standard blue, and empty, as far as he could tell. But two were blue and had text in them, though they were nowhere near each other. The first:
Defeat the Storm Claws (Total Monster CR: 10). SUCCEEDED. Reward: 1 Random Reward Box (Elite Tier) Additional Objectives: Claim leadership of the Storm Claws: FAILED. Frighten the Storm Claws away: FAILED. Kill all Storm Claws: SUCCEEDED. Reward: 10 100 EXP Reward Boxes Conquer Storm Claw Mesa and exterminate the goblin infestation. FAILED.
¡°What in the world?¡± Robert muttered. Partly at the rewards and various ¡®additional objectives¡¯ but mostly at that final additional objective. Why would they have ¡®exterminated¡¯ the goblins? Or wanted to claim the leadership of a group of slavers? What was the aim of whoever, whatever had assigned him this quest? He was uncomfortable enough with the boxes rewarding them with EXP for killing, seeing the explicit goal be killing all the Storm Claws¡ªbut those were surely alternate paths. You couldn¡¯t claim leadership, frighten them away and kill them. But the rewards might be different on different paths...which didn¡¯t matter. He would do what he would do, he would not allow the boxes to dictate his actions. Though that didn¡¯t mean he would reject the rewards, but that was a problem for later, for now¡ªhis eyes focused on the other box with visible text.
Remove the Threat in the Lower Level of the Mesa (Total Monster CR: 8.25) Additional Objectives: Minimize damage to mushroom farms. Tame the Threat. Destroy the Threat. Expel the Threat. Preserve Giant Rats. Secure entrance to the Underdark.
Ah, okay, so this was the request of the Settled Feet. Which, since he could see it without having completed it, must make them ¡®NPCs¡¯ by the language of the boxes...who knew what that meant? Ah well, the Settled Feet hadn¡¯t been explicit about the additional objectives, but they were obvious from the intended goal. He was deeply uncomfortable with the fact that their leader was a woman, but he supposed the orcs had probably killed most of their menfolk, before enslaving the rest. The fact that none of them exactly appeared feminine would surely be helpful in maintaining the discipline of the men. The orcish women had been disturbingly human-like, but they were all dead, which also made him extremely uncomfortable in a number of ways, starting with the fact that he was uncomfortable killing women, even if they were rushing at you like a madman--madwoman with a big ax. He didn¡¯t even want to think about the magical, size-changing ax which he¡¯d turned over for use splitting wood, or the apparently ever full bottle of smoke which he¡¯d turned over to Thomas for study and which, he now had a note, apparently would fill an area bigger than a baseball diamond with smoke, which blocked sight, but was easily visible. He could imagine strategic uses for that, especially combined with the [Unseen Servant] spell to deliver it, but why those items? It was such a strange set of items to exist. But perhaps it was all a small band of orcs could steal? Or perhaps they had their own magic users who made such things? If you were going to make a magical ax, make one better suited for chopping down trees! A magical bottle should be filled with endless clean water. His men might prefer beer, but he preferred sober soldiers. Instead, he got this tat. Frustrating. He focused on the ¡®rewards¡¯ and there was suddenly a box.
Select reward to apply: Random Reward Box (Elite), 100 EXP Reward Boxs
He started with the first one and a spinning wheel appeared in front of his face. It was translucent like the boxes and reminded him of the roulette wheel he had seen when his family went on tour on the continent, except someone had flipped it vertically and it was broader, with more colors as the wheel spun, music filled his ears, strange, but synced to the spinning wheel, which just kept spinning until he managed to focus on it. Then it began to slow to a stop and he realized there were symbols on each of the individual sections. One read EXP, another GP, several had what seemed different weapons, armor, jewelry, or a big question mark, and there was one that read ¡®Boon Recharge,¡¯ but it stopped on one which read ¡°Retainer.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. Another box popped up.
Select your retainer, retainer will be loyal unto death: Elite Steward. Knight. Servant/Assassin. Slave Mage.
¡°I am not summoning a person who will be magically loyal to me, such a thing is no less than slavery, regardless of the title given.¡±
Warning: Declining reward will result in redrawing from that category at a lower rarity level.
¡°Fine.¡±
Select your retainer, retainer will be loyal unto death: Steward. Squire. Servant. Slave Girl.
¡°Still no!¡±
Warning: Declining reward will result in redrawing from that category at a lower rarity level.
¡°Still fine.¡±
Select your retainer, retainer will be loyal unto death: Mule. Horse. Dog. Cat.
Robert swore internally. He wanted that horse. He wanted it badly...but the mule was the right choice. ¡°Mule,¡± he said and thought before he could talk himself out of it, or realize that choosing an animal that definitely couldn¡¯t breed as his reward was arguably a mistake. And then there was a mule in his tent. He wished he had been a bit smarter and stepped outside. Getting the shockingly obedient mule out of his tent was no easy feat, but he turned it over to one of his men and confirmed his instinct that they didn¡¯t get any rewards. It would be too much to hope for that everyone could get rewards for the same quests. It was odd that he was the only one with the set of quest boxes, as he confirmed with a few questions, but presumably that came from being in command? Once he ordered the mule to obey them and everyone in the 54th, it obediently left, rather than remaining standing outside his tent, like a guard. Regardless, when he finally got the mule away from his tent and himself back into it, he found Sergeant Merriman had returned, apparently, no goblins did not heal overnight and they didn¡¯t know anything which did, except some old legends about some monster called a troll which couldn¡¯t be killed by mundane means because it kept healing itself. He nodded politely, and then it belatedly occurred to him that that might mean the goblins had injured people of their own and sent Merriman off to check and grab the few Bards who had been randomly assigned a healing spell, and get those goblins healed up, if so, then get the briefing set up. When he finally got rid of them, he managed to bring back up the reward screen and select the ¡°100 EXP Reward Box¡± wincing in anticipation of another dizzying array of lights and sounds. But instead, all he got was another box.
Select which PC will get the EXP reward.
His brain reacted instinctively to that question, the obvious answer was Trip, given how critical he¡¯d been to the business with both the orcs and the goblins and what he¡¯d done after Robert¡¯s death on the battlefield back home. Before he could reconsider, the box accepted the thought.
Reward assigned. Assign another 100 EXP Reward Box now?
¡°No.¡± Then he had to go find Trip and get confirmation that the man now had an additional 100 EXP, bringing him up to 285/300. With that finally clear, only about an hour after he¡¯d originally intended to, he could finally get to the briefing. Almost everyone was there. Except the squads securing the field they¡¯d all come out and the squad standing watch. A number of goblins were watching from nearby, with some confusion. He straightened his uniform and marched to the front of the column. ¡°Regiment, Attention!¡± Rawlins shouted as Robert reached his position. Cabot and the two captains were up front with Rawlins. Every soldier came to rigid attention, with some of the goblins trying to imitate the movement and Robert spoke to Rawlins and a moment later the man yelled again, this time ¡°Stand at ease!¡± They slid into that posture. ¡°Soldiers of the 54th Regiment. We find ourselves in unique circumstances. We are cast far from home by providence¡¯s hand, we are not dead, but rather given another chance at life. Already we have defeated one band of raiders and slavers and made allies, with the goblins of the Settled Feet Tribe. Certain tasks must be undertaken with some alacrity by those who have been ¡®classed¡¯ as druids or clerics. Captain Simpkins has a full list of the spells to prepare this day and in future days in order to ensure we have full use of as many of the spells we have gained as possible.¡± It wouldn¡¯t be all of them, some appeared to be only for Sorcerers or Bards and therefore were not acquirable in this fashion, but those were few and far between. ¡°Captain Russel has a full list of the material components we are seeking. Keep your eyes posted for those items, rewards are available for locating the needed items. Our noble allies in the Settled Feet have a problem, a beast, interfering with their farming and ranching. We will assist them with that, as soon as we locate the phosphorescent moss, or fireflies required for the [Light] spell which will allow us to engage them in lighting appropriate to our plans and nature. Captain Simpkins will be preparing a plan of action for the operation.¡± ¡°We have learned some things about how this world works and the strange boxes we have all been seeing. Allow me to summarize briefly.¡± He was not particularly brief. ¡°So, this EXP from killing enemies allows us to gather strength, as does completing these quests. The rewards will be distributed to those who are participating in the next combat, to strengthen them. Which leads us into the reorganization of our forces.¡± That got a few murmurs, which were permissible while at ease, but Rawlins bawled out, ¡°QUIET IN THE RANKS!¡± and everyone shut up. ¡°We are currently the size of a company. Until we receive reinforcements or new recruits, we will operate as such. Captain Simpkins will lead 1st Company,¡± since usually companies went by letters, that deliberately avoided favoring any of the existing companies. ¡°Captain Russel will act as my staff officer and quartermaster, while Major Forbes will remain as our executive officer.¡± That got no major response, because it was all basically what they expected. They were glad Robert was taking the extremely young Russel off their hands, though Simpkins wasn¡¯t that much older. Robert¡¯s officers, except his surgeon, had all skewed young to avoid the tendency of older men to think they knew better than the younger, which would have been awkward given Robert¡¯s own age. But still, no one wanted to be commanded by someone who didn¡¯t need to shave. The next command however. ¡°Sergeant-Major Rawlins, please step forward.¡± He snapped out of line, approaching with razor precision, and came to attention in front of Robert. ¡°Sergeant-Major Rawlins, a company sized force does not require a Sergeant-Major.¡± There was a mixture of resignation, annoyance and relief in the older man¡¯s eyes. But no surprise, which hurt a bit. Robert continued, ¡°It needs a first lieutenant.¡± It was a good thing Captain Russel¡¯s inventory had been so thorough, otherwise he wouldn¡¯t have had the shoulder boards for this. Rawlin¡¯s eyes widened in shock. Which also hurt a little bit, but a better kind of pain as he pinned the boards to the shoulders of Rawlins¡¯ uniform. ¡°For courage under fire and steadfast leadership, I promote you to the rank of First Lieutenant and assign you to second in command of Company 1.¡± Robert came firmly to attention ¡°Sir, you can¡¯t do this! Orders were no Colored officers in the regiment! You said it yourself when you made me Sergeant-Major.¡± ¡°They said none were to be assigned or appointed to the regiment, they said nothing about brevetting you to the rank, which I have the authority to do and am doing.¡± That was pushing things. Brevetting out of the noncommissioned ranks was questionable and his interpretation that appointment was different than brevetting was not something that made much sense, but--¡± If command disagrees with my interpretation of my orders, all they must do is tell me so.¡± A thin round of amused chuckles ran through the throng. Robert saluted. He saluted again. Rawlins slowly came to attention and returned the salute, then they shook hands. The crowd cheered. ¡°Sergeant Merriman, please step forward.¡± The man did so, and approached, saluting. Not quite matching Rawlins¡¯ precision, but it was close. ¡°For courage in the face of injustice and going forth to face an unknown threat under the banner of peace, I promote you to the rank of Second Lieutenant and assign you to third in command of Company 1.¡± That was it for the available officer insignia. If they were able to recruit, or more of their own turned up and they expanded back to multiple companies, they would need to make additional insignia. ¡°Three cheers for Lieutenant Rawlins!¡± Hats rose and fell with the heartfelt huzzahs of the men, even as the handful of watching goblins either mimed participation, or simply stared in confusion. ¡°And three cheers for Second Lieutenant Merriman!¡± the cheers were not quite as enthusiastic, but they still rose eagerly enough. Robert saluted the crowd. ¡°Additionally, Private Trip has served both on the front line and as liaison to the Settled Feet and for that is promoted to Sergeant Trip,¡± who could sew on his own stripes, made from something, that was a problem an NCO better be able to solve. ¡°Three cheers for Sergeant Trip.¡± Robert was surprised that the cheers were as loud as for Rawlins, he hadn¡¯t thought the abrasive private was that well liked. ¡°Finally, Corporal Searles has served ably in an engineering and spellcasting role, which he shall continue as Sergeant Searles. Three cheers for Sergeant Searles.¡± These were more muted, which was unfortunate, he¡¯d thought the reaction would be reversed and he¡¯d be ending on a high note, but he just pushed forward. ¡°With those promotions addressed, the company¡¯s officers can reorganize as needed.¡± ¡°With our command structure resolved, we turn to the matter of our current situation. Besides the needs of our allies, we have three primary priorities. Food. Equipment. Defense. Secondarily, we need additional information and allies. Food, as previously described, we will assist our allies in reclaiming their farming and ranching caverns. We also have potatoes and a few other potential crops. Those of you with farming, fishing or hunting experience will report to Lieutenant Merriman to assist. No one goes anywhere alone, or eats anything without having it checked out. We do not know this area, assume nothing is as it appears. Try talking first, but if anything attacks you, make sure we¡¯re the ones who walk away. One hundred and eleven soldiers of the 54th have arrived here, I want to see one hundred and eleven developed homesteads within out walls the day I finally meet our Lord, not plots in the cemetery beside the orcs.¡± There was a moment of silence for that. ¡°Second objective, equipment. We¡¯ll need to be able to replace our ammunition, which means lead, iron, gunpowder, paper and percussion caps as well as make more weapons for new recruits and allies. Anyone who knows about those matters should report to Lieutenant Rawlins. Again, no one is going prospecting alone. If you need facilities, coordinate with Sergeant Searles.¡± ¡°Which leads us to defense. Sergeant Searles has already made a creditable beginning with the ditch and earthworks, but those need to be strengthened into a proper palisade, wells need to be sunk and proper housing put in place to protect us from the weather. With the mesa to act as a redoubt in the event of enemy attack, we can have defenses in depth. Sergeant Searles will coordinate that construction, as well as any other needed construction activity.¡± Thomas nodded slightly and seriously, as eager as the day he volunteered for the 54th, but with a resolve which hadn¡¯t been there before¡ªno, the resolve had always been there, what had been missing was the steel core of the man, which the drill instructor and battle had tempered out of the brittle cast iron which had been there before. ¡°The first thing I need to do is get information from the Settled Feet about the flooding in this area. We can control it, but we need to know how bad it gets.¡± ¡°Coordinate with Sergeant Trip, he will continue as the liaison to the Settled Feet.¡± He nodded, ¡°Yes, sir.¡± ¡°Gentlemen, if there is some matter I have missed, speak now.¡± There was silence. ¡°In that case, I leave you with this thought, the United States was created out of disparate colonies carving their place in savage wilderness, with few friends and many enemies. Its original sin was slavery. We are offered here the chance to recreate the feats of our ancestors, without their mistakes. If we can do it. I believe we can. Shall we try?¡± That got a roar of approval and he yelled, ¡°Dismissed to your assignments, let us build!¡± And the entire group imploded as people moved towards the various officers and NCOs, seeking to be useful. A bare squad didn¡¯t have an assigned duty, as their skills fit none of the needs. Mostly barbers, waiters, or hostlers. Robert instantly put them to work carrying word to those on guard duty in the field and replacing those whose skills were needed for construction. Most of the goblins were just watching bemused, but he saw the matriarch, identifiable by her strange scarf, moving towards Trip, apparently fearless in the crowd of larger people. If the rest of her clan had her courage...well, he hadn¡¯t been lying about having visions of battlelines in his head. The pistol had a closer range than a rifle, but so far the biggest threats had been melee based and a battle line of goblins, shoulder to shoulder in front of the humans, each armed with a pistol like his...the amount of fire they could put out would break almost any charge, so long as they stood fast. He had not been impressed by their courage, and he lacked Sergeant-Major Mulcahy to make soldiers of them. But that was a problem for later, the rest of the morning was spent drinking tea (to his annoyance as all the green coffee beans had been seized to see if they could be properly grown, but no one even imagined they could grow tea plants from tea leaves) and repeatedly saying yes, or very occasionally no, to proposals by the various groups he¡¯d just set up. Thomas needs large quantities of wood, okay, he would start men working from both ends towards clearing a straight path to the field they had come out, that way the men on guard duty weren¡¯t just all standing around. It meant some trees would need to come from further away, but since the key limiting factor initially would be cutting down the trees and getting them into position, that was less of a problem than it might have been. Cutting trees was not unskilled labor, but a man could learn the basics quickly and if they rotated men quickly before they got exhausted and started making mistakes, progress could be made. Fortunately, the men had the whetstones to sharpen axe-blades and the magical one never went dull, which was its first trait that impressed rather than annoying him. The trees would be used mostly for construction, while the limbed branches would be used for fuel, or construction, depending on size. That was fine. But then there was a debate about ashes, which were desired for fertilizer, for use in creating percussion caps and soap. And that was without getting into the need for charcoal for gunpowder, which would also require significant wood to create, and would fight with other needs. Thomas wants to start with a sawmill, which means he needs to reshape the river flow somewhat, create a pond and gates to that pond? Fine, though Robert had his suspicions that this had more to do with Thomas¡¯s longstanding interests in mills and machinery than a cold-blooded calculation on what¡¯s needed first. He needs earthmovers, who else has the [Mold Earth] spell? Robert produced a list. Ah, but Rawlins¡¯ team reports that to make the saltpetre needed, they need to dig various pits, for either human excrement, or human urine and they wanted his input on which. Fortunately for him, as he was attempting to make that very important decision, Merriman¡¯s team insisted that though some of the soil was good, they¡¯d need manure, and since humans and goblins (whose excrement and that of their own livestock was spoken for, both for fertilizing mushrooms and because the Giant Rats, disturbingly, nested in the stuff) were the only available sources, except for the mule which had just showed up, they¡¯d desperately need as much of the excrement as possible to attempt to get the crops to grow. Which solved that problem. Separate latrines would be dug for urine and excrement, with both leading to clay-lined cisterns which could easily be collected from. Or, that was the idea, until Thomas came up with a better one for the urine latrines, they could be placed near the saltpetre fields and angled to be self draining into them, using a halved and hollowed log as the pipe, at least for now. Feces was rather less...sliding and so would need to be moved, but they placed those latrines near their future farm fields¡ªwhich meant they would have to extend the ditch, earthworks and future palisade. Every solution came with more problems. And there was nothing anyone could do about sulfur, iron, lead, or mercury (apparently needed for new percussion caps). Natural sources of all of those would have to be found. The percussion caps¡¯ explosive required three elements as well, mercury, nitric acid and ethanol. Allegedly, once they found the component needed for the [Witch Bolt] spell, they would be able to use its sustained bolt of electrical power to create nitric acid from air and water. That took wood from a tree hit by lightning, which people were already keeping an eye out for. Mercury, as previously noted, required mercury. Ethanol...every farmer knew how to make, but that would take crops that weren¡¯t even planted, let alone harvested. Trip reported that the goblins had their own ¡®smithy¡¯ which was somehow deep within the Mesa. Its smith was practiced at recycling the small amounts of metal they had and fuel made from the dung of their Giant Rats. It was not particularly efficient, but it would let them reshape some of their own metal, or the captured orcish equipment into the tools needed for actual smithing, which was another thing Rawlins had been looking for. And, he could resharpen axe blades a lot faster than their hand-held whetstones, meant for bayonets and cooking knives. Meanwhile, Thomas had dug a very temporary well, without supports, but since it only had to go down 10-20 feet due to the high groundwater this near the river, it would last until they could get the sawmill up and running and get boards in place on the next one (their own supply of rope was more than sufficient for that, but they had to rough cut a bucket from some lumber, as they didn¡¯t have any of the blasted things). Given [Purify Food and Drink], they could take water straight from the river withou giving themselves the runs, but Madam Varrarg¡¯s stories of monsters made him wary, anything in the water would be a real problem for them. Perhaps a place attack spells might be useful? Regardless, that issue was temporarily solved, but they¡¯d need a blade for the mill¡ªwhich brought them back to the blacksmithy. Which was operating on a limited basis because the supply of Giant Rat dung had been greatly reduced with the loss of the lower caverns. The 54th could supply wood fuel, but no one was looking forward to carrying that up the mesa. Fortunately, at that point Simpkins finally turned up with a plan of action. Apparently, the goblins listening to his speech had heard the bit about phosphorescent moss and fireflies and though they had none of the later, they used the former quite a bit in their nursery caves, where they communally raised their young. A strange practice, but one that they would surely grow out of as their civilization advanced under the protection and guidance of the Union. Regardless, they produced the moss and Simpkins had had the men with the [Light] spell practicing. He proposed a two prong assault, as the cavern allegedly had two entrances. There was only one beast, so whichever group found it first would pin it in place, while the second attacked from the flank or rear. Given the relatively small size of the caverns, each force would be squad-sized, with a second squad for backup. Those capable of casting the [Light] spell would be in reserves, casting it on rocks. Twenty brilliantly glowing rocks, would be created ahead of time, since each spellcaster could only support one, and one give to each goblin guide, who would lead them into position. Then they¡¯d lay down a barrage of light, advance in skirmish formation to the edge of it and, if the area was clear, the reserves would advance, create more light-bearing rocks, toss them forward and repeat the process until the enemy was brought into the light and engaged, closing to tighten their ranks. They¡¯d clear each gallery as they got to it.If they got pinned down in the tunnels, each group also had one wizard capable of casting [Silent Image] which, given that the material component was fleece, was not a problem. It was as good a plan as Robert could have come up with. Neither Cabot, nor Russel had any real improvements to make. He looked at the order of battle. Rawlins would be in operational command, as it was too small a force to justify Simpkins taking command himself. But...how would the men take that? Having colored officers was good for morale, but if the white officers did not expose themselves to danger, would the men think them cowards, or that they viewed the men as expendable? Surely not. Every white man here had died for the regiment after all. Still, the words of his first commander rang in his ears, ¡°A soldier is only as brave as his commander allows him to be, by command and by example.¡± After a very long moment, he realized he was being an idiot and asked a runner to bring him S-Lieutenant Rawlins. ¡°Lieutenant, Captain Simpkins has come up with a plan to deal with these beasts beneath the mesa,¡± he laid out the plan. Rawlins didn¡¯t have any improvements either. ¡°He has drawn up a roster of the men to participate in the attack. Two squads which came through mostly intact as they¡¯re used to working together, with reserves made up of those capable of casting the [Light] spell. He proposes you for command of this assault.¡± Rawlins saluted sharply, still an NCO in his bones. ¡°Understood, sir!¡± ¡°Relax, Lieutenant, you¡¯re an officer amongst officers.¡± He tried to relax and failed. ¡°Lieutenant, I am...uncertain on how this will be interpreted by the men and would welcome your insight.¡± ¡°About what, sir?¡± ¡°Promoting you was the right decision. You are the right man to lead this operation, given its size and your capabilities. However...if no white officer accompanies you, I am concerned that the men will think that we are willing to subject them to risks we do not accept for ourselves.¡± Rawlins actually smiled at that. ¡°Sir, you need not concern yourself with that, not after yesterday.¡± ¡°As Benjamin Franklin said ¡®It takes many good deeds to build a good reputation, and only one bad one to lose it¡¯.¡± ¡°Sir¡­¡± ¡°Speak freely.¡± ¡°If I was a white officer would you worry about this, or trust me to handle it?¡± There was a long, painful silence. The other officers shifted. Several excuses flew through his mind. Russel got so uncomfortable he started to say something, but Cabot elbowed him sharply, while Simpkins was still examining the maps he¡¯d made. Finally, he simply nodded. ¡°Lieutenant, given your primary assault forces, who would you recommend receive the EXP boxes? We have 9 remaining, that should be enough to allow two men to receive an increase in level.¡± He blinked. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t it be three, sir? Three hundred EXP per level?¡± ¡°Three men will advance, but one of them is already chosen. It¡¯s you,¡± he said calmly and activated three reward boxes, choosing Rawlins each time. Interlude: Baerwyn In the shining city of Four Feasts and Three Axes, Baerwyn Steelfire teased her brother. From anyone outside the family, her words might have been deadly insults, to be answered in the dueling circles that dotted the city, but from her to her elder brother, they were mere teasing. Well, not mere teasing. There was a point to it. The Steelfire family was respected and respectable, but their mines were almost played out. It was why more and more of their family had gone into the service of the city as warriors of late. And it was why she knew they had to go on this expedition, if they were to turn the fortunes of their family around. They had never been rich, their family mine had produced coal, not gold, silver, or even iron, but all the others had needed their coal to work the other metals. But with their mine playing out and the new coal source found within the claim of the King, they had to either find the wealth to buy it, or become hired hands, rather than owners. Some tiny, distant, disobedient part of her suggested they could do something besides be coal miners, or warriors, but that was not a part of herself she listened to. To go on the expedition, she needed to convince Kithryk. Not because she needed his permission, she was an adult...if barely, by dwarvish standards. But because Kithryk was widely known as a skilled warrior and competent commander, who had participated in more than twenty patrols into the Underdark and led four of them, successfully. Given the relatively isolated nature of the city, trading only with a handful of outlying holds, a rock gnome settlement, and a strangely rich group of kobolds, few could claim as much experience.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Him going along would allow them to bring along at least five or six family members, even if their skill with an ax was less than their skill with a pick. And since shares for the proceeds would be distributed per person and rank, if this mission succeeded¡ªwhen it succeeded, they would have enough money to buy the mine, she was sure of it. The great skald and adventurer Urthkin Silverlute had found the old rune maps that indicated where the lost trading post between the city and the surface had been before the earthquake that cut off those roads. And he had then personally scouted a new path upwards. He had had to retreat when within sight of the trading post, as the cavern before him had been filled with oozes, too many for him to defeat on his own. And so she was teasing her brother to get him to agree. It wasn¡¯t going to work. Today. But the last day to sign up wasn¡¯t for two weeks. That was plenty of time to break stone. Whether it would be enough to break her brother was a different question. Rawlins: Advancement The box that flashed before his eyes said ¡®Level Up,¡¯ but vanished as soon as he read it. It was replaced by another. Allowing him to ¡®roll¡¯ or take the average for ¡®HP¡¯ which appeared to be something to do with health, given what the injured had reported. He took the average and it increased by 7, to 17, from 10. Was he truly that much more durable all of a sudden? Or would he be after he rested? It actually read 10/17, after all. But he didn¡¯t feel injured the way the men who¡¯d reported missing ¡®HP¡¯ had been. The boxes continued to unroll.
He carefully did not say any of them, but instead wrote them down, after reading the instructions aloud and passed that list around the group. There was some debate, with various arguments being made for Nature, War, Peace and Knowledge, given their situation, but in the end, the Colonel recommended Forge, and Rawlins agreed. They needed their equipment. If they were reduced to using axes and knives like the locals, they¡¯d undoubtedly be swarmed under, eventually. Forge seemed most likely to help. Besides, Rawlins had always wanted to be a man who made things. His spellcasting feature updated, giving him one additional use of magic per day, though not until he rested, and two new spells, [Identify] and [Searing Smite] both of which were useless. [Identify] theoretically might not be, even though it only worked on magic items, not others, but more critically, it required an expensive pearl as a spell component, which they did not possess. He also gained an additional spell known, which he could learn tomorrow morning. Then there were a whole series of other updates, which he read through quickly, by the end, he was smiling broadly. He mentally compared his initial status with his current one
And what he was¡ªno, what he had now.
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It was that last point which was of critical interest, though the Colonel was pleased by the ability to enhance a weapon, if he could make another axe magical, even if not necessarily to the same degree as the one the orcs had, that would reduce arguments over who got to use it. But Artisan¡¯s Blessing was the clear winner. There would need to be tests done, to figure out what a ¡®short rest¡¯ even was, besides how it actually worked and what monetary value was placed on the ammunition, after the mission, but perhaps this would provide a stopgap. Either way, he had an operation to carry out and a question to answer. ¡°Trip,¡± he said as the new Sergeant would be leading the other section and they had no idea what second level of Barbarian gave (which turned out to be almost nothing, besides a lot of hitpoints, the only other things he got strengthened his ability to sense danger and allowed him to attack recklessly...no change there). When phrased that way, it was obvious that the other one would be an Artificer, to see what came with that title, which seemed closely related to creation. Only one man in the assault group was an Artificer, Private Price. The poor man was so nervous being brought in to talk to all the officers in the regiment (except Merriman) but when they quickly had him ¡®leveled¡¯ up, he walked through it eagerly. That left two reward boxes, which could be distributed after the completion of the mission, depending on EXP levels. The ¡®level¡¯ gave Price no additional spells known, or spell slots, instead it gave him an entirely new ability, ¡®Infuse Item,¡¯ which allowed him to imbue magic into two items, which would last until he died, or replaced them...which made everyone nervous about relying on existing magic items in case they might vanish if their creator so chose. They went through the long list of options, most of which were based on armor or weapons which they didn¡¯t have, or didn¡¯t use. Though there was one they were eager to experiment with, the Repeating Weapon asserted it would create magical ammunition for a weapon which lacked ammunition. The problem was, even if they advanced all their artificers and they all made such weapons, it would only equip a fraction of a battle line. Their strength was in volley fire, not in a handful of guns. Again, it wouldn¡¯t work until the next day, but as they looked through the list the man had scribbled down. There were several obvious winners. The Alchemy Jug could create many things. Even if some were unspecific, or of uncertain use (what sort of poison/acid did it make?) something that could make 4 gallons of beer a day would be of use in maintaining morale, without even getting into the uses for oil, vinegar, or honey. Though what use one could have mayonnaise, which the jug could also produce was confusing. The Colonel suggested it was about having a source of salt to be added to food, though it could also produce salt water. In the end, they shrugged and moved on from that point. The Bag of Holding would allow easy transport of goods up and down the mountain, but that was low priority for the moment, despite the fact that they all wanted to see it and see what could fit in its allegedly 64 cubic feet of storage, taking up to 500 pounds of weight while still weighing only fifteen for the carrier. The Cap of Water Breathing did exactly what it said and given the claims about monsters in the river and their need to secure a water supply for the mills and for fishing¡­it seemed potentially useful. But the two stand out, obvious choices were the Sending Stones, paired items which would allow single statement and response once per day, regardless of distance. Portable telegraphs, even Rawlins could see their military potential. They¡¯d need smooth stones to quickly shape and enchant, but the obvious advantages of that, especially given the need to separate into smaller groups, made those high priority. The other winner was known as the Goggles of Night, which would give vision, even in total darkness, at least out to 60 feet. This would be crucial for the underground operations and night watches, given that both orcs and goblins could see in the dark and who knew what other residents of this strange place could do? Leveling the playing field was critical. Tipping it in their favor would be even better, but that would have to wait on further ¡®leveling.¡¯ And if they could get two items from each of Artificer they brought to second level and had 7 artificers, they could get a squad kitted out with Goggles of Night to keep watch over night, an Alchemy Jug to provide beer to about a third of the men each night, two Sending Stones, one for the field outpost, one for an exploratory operation, and a Bag of Holding to carry supplies...or so the other officers almost instantly agreed, while Rawlins was still attempting to work out the arithmetic. He really wasn¡¯t comfortable being an officer. He hadn¡¯t been comfortable being Sergeant-Major. He remembered running, escaping, leaving behind his children, his kin. And his prayer before the battle had been granted. He had died, they had all died standing up, taking it to the enemy. But now he was here and an officer, fighting forces he didn¡¯t understand. The war with the Grey Backs was one thing. He understood that. The godly side was right clear. So far that had been true here as well, the goblins were heathens, yes, who had never even heard of the true church, or any church, but that did not mean they deserved to be held in bondage. They deserved freedom from both the orcs and their own ignorance. His conversation with Madam Varrarg had been enlightening on that front. He doubted she would deliberately send them against some innocents they labeled beasts, given her clear interest in salvation for her people. But it was still best to be cautious in territory he did not understand. Especially as he had not been able to understand the comments of her fellow goblins, lacking the boon of translation she had been granted. With Trip leading the other section, he brought in Sergeant Wilson, as the Colonel had given him the blessing of languages, so he should be able to communicate with their guide. He¡¯d also be relying on the sergeant in the event this beast could speak. He rendezvoused with Trip and the other soldiers, briefing them all on the plan, then their goblin guides showed up and they split up. Rawlins had chosen to come in from below, while Trip took the walk to the top, then down again. They both had watches, synchronized to move out at two in the afternoon. That should give them both plenty of time to get there and wait. The goblin guiding them, Merrik, as he¡¯d been introduced, twitched nervously as they waited around the bend from the main cavern. The bend would mostly conceal their light, as they counted down the minutes and talked quietly. A few men checked and rechecked their weapons, despite being fully loaded and prepared. Bayonets weren¡¯t fixed yet. Even with the lit stones, the tunnels were dark and cramped and Rawlins had no desire for his men to kill themselves, or one another if someone tripped. Hence also leaving the percussion cap off until the last two minutes, when it was put in place and the bayonet was locked into place. Two men stepped around the curve of the tunnel and chucked lit stones into the darkness. A large rock answered them, fortunately exploding against the wall of the cave and only ineffectually showering them with rock fragments, though some men would have cuts. He heard a growling rumble, then what seemed to be a reply and glanced at Wilson. ¡°First voice said ¡®Run home Gobbos, this is ours now.¡¯ Second said ¡®Why¡¯d you scare it off? I want Gobbo meat!¡¯¡± The voices continued from around the bend, ¡°Now they¡¯re arguing about which tastes better goblin or rat.¡± All doubts about their task faded away in the face of this admission of cannibalism and conquest. Though the fact that there were two enemies gave him some pause, this wasn¡¯t how he¡¯d thought it would go. Had the goblins lied? They¡¯d said the ones down here died and it threw rocks at whatever came down here and though he didn¡¯t know either language, it was obvious the goblins and whatever was down here were not speaking the same language, at all. That was a problem for later. For now, they had their orders. He glanced at the wizard and the poor man did his best. He¡¯d only seen the cave from the other angle, but after a moment, he managed to complete the spell, it blocked off the end of the exit, showing the view of the back of the tunnel as he saw it from here. That was reversed, but it was good enough to confuse for a moment. As they walked around the corner, they could see through the illusion as they knew what it was and were able to see the creature as it was approaching one of the glowing stones and picking it up, staring in wonder at it¡­ It was even bigger than the orog he¡¯d seen buried, at least ten feet tall, maybe closer to fifteen. He had no idea how they would get it out of here, even if they could kill the damnable thing. And it had two heads. The other hand came around, clamping down around the light and plunging it into darkness, only for the hand holding the stone to pull free, revealing it again. They laughed. Rawlins reconsidered talking, only to see the goblin skulls hanging from the belt that was its only clothing, along with two massive weapons, both crudely made from wood and stone. He¡¯d first thought it was more dressed than it was, but the dark material that covered its grew skin was not fabric, but rather dirt, congealed sweat and what certainly looked like food and blood. Matted hair from each head and chin ran down, fusing into the waste that covered its body in a truly nauseating way. He counted down almost silently to the squad, and at zero, they all rushed out, forming a swift line at the cave and Rawlins bawled out, ¡°Aim! Fire!¡± even as the monstrous giant spun to face them with shocking speed. Smoke filled the air, blocking line of sight, even as more light stones were sent flying overhead by the group behind. ¡°RELOAD!¡± Rawlins ordered, suiting word to deed as he heard and felt the footsteps of the creature, rushing them with a screaming warcry on both its pairs of lips. Or not, he still couldn¡¯t understand the language. It thundered forward through the smoke even as the reloading was finishing, faster than ever before. It wielded a massive club in one hand and an equally massive stone axe in the other. The creature looked crazed and was so badly injured that it was not long for this world as well over half the shots had hit and one seemed to have hit one of the heads, though the beast was still charging. It seemed determined to take a few of the soldiers with it. Rawlins wished he¡¯d ordered the reserves to prepare to toss cantrips which couldn¡¯t hit friends from behind the battle lines, but instead, they simply braced for the charge. Even if it could injure, or kill a few of his men, the beast would die the moment they finished reloading, or in a charge from the reserves as the line broke apart. To his utter shock, Merrik, the goblin, leapt forward snatching up one of the light stones on the ground and hurled it directly in the face of the charging monster, before screaming and fleeing back behind their lines. It wasn¡¯t much, but the bright light directly at its face made the creature flinch and that gave them the time they needed. The second volley dropped the beast, ripping it apart. From across the vast cavern, they saw another ocean of light and could hear the snapping of guns. He¡¯d been right the second time. There¡¯d been at least two of the monsters. Fortunately, the two entrances weren¡¯t directly across from one another, so they could target things over there without any missed shots potentially hitting their own men (though they could also simply aim up, over their heads, but though the 54th had drilled diligently with their weapons, with a handful of exceptions, they were not marksmen and their training was to aim chest high on a man, for the best chance of hitting the enemy). Unfortunately, the beast on the other side wasn¡¯t in the light and they couldn¡¯t see the blasted thing anymore than the desperately blind-firing group was managing on the other side.Rawlins¡¯ men advanced quickly towards where the battle was clearly occurring as soon as they¡¯d reloaded. There was probably a better solution, but the only one he could think of was to yell ¡°Skirmish formation, spread out those lights! Fire at will as you have a target! Sergeant, keep Merrik with you and a stone handy, if he sees the thing, let us know where it is and throw a rock at it!¡± They advanced quickly across the cavern as more shots rang out, followed by screams as a rock burst near a man who was trying to advance out of the tunnel entrance and showered him in stones, sending him collapsing to the ground, screaming. The monster tried to rush into the light to grab him and got shot several times, retreating away, bleeding, but still throwing another stone at the soldiers in the light. This one sank into the rich soil underfoot and so didn¡¯t shatter, accomplishing nothing. As they approached Trip raced out and pulled the other man back to the tunnel entrance where there was a flash of light and angry cursing as he was healed. More lights spun ahead of them, then Merrik yelled and pointed, flinging a stone which mostly went wide, but illuminated the beast in passing. Everyone who had a shot fired. Most went wide, but enough struck that the monster screamed and that let more men target the area, pouring on fire. More light stones flew, more shots were fired and it took Trip, Wilson, and Rawlins yelling ¡°CEASE FIRE!¡± at the top of their lungs to end the barrage of bullets into a corpse. By the end of it, more than a hundred rounds had been fired. But both creatures were definitely dead and there were no fatalities, though several men were injured from shrapnel from the massive thrown stones and one of Trip¡¯s men needed serious healing as she (as their monster proved to be) had ambushed them on the way out of the cavern, smacking one of them into the wall and crushing ribs. Only his own use of the Second Wind ability which allowed Fighters to heal themselves somewhat and rapid healing spells from the reserves had kept him alive. Another man had been injured by friendly fire as the assault team had fired to drive back the ambushing monster, fortunately the reserve group had two druids with both [Light] and [Cure Wounds] which meant that the operation which, back home, would have cost them at least two men dead and half a dozen or so injured, was completed with no cost except ammunition and spells. Well, and damage to a uniforms, most of which could be set right by a needle and thread, but one man had half his chest bare as the mace had ripped it away before pulping his ribs. Rawlins remembered after a moment that he was in full command here and ordered Trip to find he entrance to the Deep Dark, and secure it fully, while his own squad secured the entrance to the Giant Rat caverns beneath, while the reserves spread out light stones so they could inspect the entire cavern and make sure there were no more surprises. That took quite a bit of time, as the ladders up to the galleries were sized for goblins, not meant to bear an adult human man¡¯s weight. Merrik volunteered to go up, confident there was nothing else up there. Or eager to show his courage, Rawlins couldn¡¯t quite tell. All the goblin had was a pick. Instead, they brought out some rope and had him go up and lower it down, after tying it off. Each gallery was carefully searched and nothing was found, except quite a lot of mushrooms that Merrik was glad to see. By the time he returned, Rawlins and the goblin who had been guiding Trip, Keibel, had headed down to the Giant Rat pens...which proved not to be pens at all. There were massive mounds of waste that the rats tunneled through, but they came eagerly enough when Keibel whistled. They weren¡¯t precisely domesticated the way dogs were, but since the goblins controlled the water supply, they were able to control them somewhat, training them to come when called and give up both milk and occasionally their lives, though the dumb beasts would tend to run away after one of their number was killed, they¡¯d still come when called. It was lucky the goblin trapped down here when the monsters had come had removed the stopper which controlled the flow of water out of the cistern above. And lucky that the goblins above had noticed the drainage and swam down to block it at the other end. Which they¡¯d continued to do daily for months, in the hope that their rats would survive below and be reclaimed. Hope which was now rewarded. And reminded Rawlins to use [Purify Food and Drink] before taking any food or drink from the goblins. No surprises up there, and Trip had secured the entrance, swiftly rebuilding at least a waist high barricade from the stone scattered around (or those stones that hadn¡¯t been thrown at them) and had scattered light stones out into the tunnel. It lead downwards at a relatively sharp angle through solid stone. Some stones rolled further down, providing a clear line of sight until the tunnel turned sharply, cutting off line of sight. For the moment, that would have to be good enough. So far there were no surprises, until one of the men going through a giant pile of junk, having spotted a few glimpses of metal suddenly shouted and fell on his butt, clutching for his gun. Then there were more surprises. Or another surprise, it wasn¡¯t entirely clear how he should refer to the discovery of a wailing two-headed baby, in a clear space within that junk, which was already the size of a goblin. That was a surprise, or surprises, but there was only one thing to do about it. Interlude: Yaluh Nimun Yaluh Nimun waited. Patience was a skill a warrior needed almost as much as a hunter. And he was as great a hunter as he was a warrior. The greatest of all the People of the Swift Coursers, even before they had been reduced to this motley crew of slaves and prisoners. Which was why he was alive, of course. The only surviving man of the Swift Coursers. The orcs respected a strong warrior and killing three of their number with a sword, even after his horse was killed under him and he lost his bow had been enough to earn him his life and, rather less welcome, the unpleasant attentions and ¡®affections¡¯ of one of the orcish women. They valued strength, which was also why most of the women taken prisoner and carried along were those who¡¯d fought back with their bows when the orcs had somehow ambushed them in their own camp. It had been some sort of magic, he was certain of it, because one of the orcs he¡¯d cut down had summoned darkness no torch could penetrate with a single word. But the fool had failed to realize that it did nothing to block Yaluh Nimun¡¯s keen hearing and so he had been able to evade the orcs slow, clumsy strikes and take its head off with his scimitar. If not for their numbers, swamping him and dragging him to the ground, wrestling off his weapons and helmet before savagely knocking him unconscious, he would have slain them all. Better that than this. The discovery that his body was not under his own control and could be aroused against the will of his conscious mind was not one that Yaluh Nimun was comfortable with. He had no idea if it was true of the women who were subjected to the attentions of the orcish men, but they could hide such things, unlike his own shame, which was obvious to all watching. And the orcs did not generally bother with such niceties as privacy. Teylas curse their bones. He prayed every day as they marched to the Lord of Storms to curse his enemies. Yaluh Nimun did not pray for his own freedom, or those of his fellows, of course, for all the Teylas was the God of the Sky and Movement and Freedom, he was not a God who helped those who could not help themselves. Yaluh Nimun would free himself, when his moment came. He spoke some of the orcish languages, as they were, along with other nomadic clans and the northern, mostly human cities, the prime targets for both raiding and trading and Yaluh Nimun went along on both such expeditions, his smooth tongue almost as effective as his horn bow at separating outsiders from their belongings. What he heard floated around his brilliant mind as he considered it. And what to do about it. Usually, any attempt to force him to cross the Great Dawn River would end with immediate death to anyone who dared try it. It was taboo to cross the river. Also, there wasn¡¯t anything on the other side worth having, even if you took one of the rare lowland passes to it, or fought your way through the orcish camps in the foothills. The land on the other side was too heavily forested to be good for anything true people would want to use it for. Which made the taboo all the more reasonable and important. There might be some reason to violate other taboos, but this one...the only reason to violate it was cowardice, flight before some enemy. And anyone who made such an absurd suggestion about Yaluh Nimun¡¯s motives deserved the death they courted. But, his hands were quite thoroughly bound, his weapons taken, his horses mostly dead, save for those which pulled the wagons these orcs had dragged along until they had horses, or prisoners to drag them, and the carts of the Swift Coursers themselves. He still had his sheep, or those which had not yet been eaten, but they belonged to the orcs now. And sheep were, even in the best of times, a poor weapon of war, save in their absence, or in using them to cut ahead of another tribe and eat up all their grass, forcing them to change their route and abandon a region. But that didn¡¯t really work on orcs, who were usually too stupid to maintain proper herds. This group was smarter than most, as proven by their ability to ambush the Coursers in their own camp. But, they had at least lost most, or all (even his keen eyes could not tell if the orc arguing with the warchief about strategy was a magic user himself, or merely supportive of their sneaking style of combat) of their magic users and there were rumblings within the tribe about dishonorable tactics and cowardice. The problem for them was that there was no one to fight. Their plan had been correct, these territories, which should have been full of Screaming Hawks, were entirely empty. Which made the sneaky one brag so much that the warchief bodily threw him out of her cart. Yaluh Nimun spotted the pouch containing the potions stolen from the Courser¡¯s shaman on her belt, then looked away again. Staring at orcs was considered a challenge and he was too cunning to begin the fight before he was ready. Yaluh Nimon listened to the conversation at a distance that the foolish orcs did not realize his keen ears could pick up each word and pieced them together with the intellect of the cleverest of the Coursers, even when they had numbered more than three hundred warriors! Admittedly, that had been in his youth, they had only had a hundred warriors when they were ambushed, and most had been out hunting, or raiding, to be picked off piece-meal upon their return, as he was. But they surely must have taken a fearsome bodyguard of the orcs with them to Acheron...even if he hadn¡¯t seen such bodies and there were not that many unclaimed belongings or weapons¡­The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. But that was besides the point, the point was that it was the Screaming Hawks, ancient enemies of the Coursers, whose lands the Coursers had raided since time immemorial, who were the cause of all this. They¡¯d found...something which made them more powerful, but still, obviously, not powerful enough to face their dreaded enemy and so were heading north, conquering and unifying orcish tribes. This bunch, the Golden Fangs, were, though they didn¡¯t have the courage to admit it, running from the Screaming Hawks. They¡¯d raided the Coursers for supplies and slaves, as they lacked the rations, or skills to acquire them, needed to cross the steppe on their own and were running away to where they didn¡¯t think the Screaming Hawks would follow, cutting across the other tribe¡¯s path behind them, in hopes of avoiding their warriors. It was not a bad plan, to be honest. Far cleverer than he¡¯d have expected an orc to come up with. Whichever one had managed it (obviously not one of the magic using ones) must have had more than a bit of human blood. Maybe even Courser blood, they¡¯d raided enough orc camps in their time, and admittedly, been raided in turn. Orcs usually charged at any strong targets, no matter how many times the Coursers made them pay for it, proving their horses faster than orcs and their arrows swifter than axes, they would still make the mistake, every time. So, yes, it must be Courser blood in their veins, or perhaps one of the other, lesser tribes had blessed some orcish woman with a child of uncommon ability. Regardless, he knew where they were going and what the plan was. They called it finding new lands to conquer, but everyone knew what they were doing was fleeing the Screaming Hawks. They¡¯d fled the northern mountains, ambushed the Coursers, moved south and west through their territory, towards Screaming Hawks territory and soon would reach the river. Then he would have to make a choice about what to do. They had been traveling for weeks and they had waited at the camp for weeks for the last of the hunters to return and to strip it of all potential loot, as well as eating all of the fallen horses and sheep, though at least they properly left the fallen Coursers to the messengers of Teylas. Several of the captured women and his own captors were showing signs of swelling with children, to the visible delight of the orcish woman wearing the symbol of the bear, their fertility goddess...Luthic. He¡¯d seen that symbol before on orcs who attacked desperately in protection of home and hearth. Only a fool took them straight on, for they often had magic and always had long, cruel claws. Worse, they could be dangerously clever, or wait in ambush to defend their homes and caves. Besides her and the warchief, the senior members of the tribe were male. There was the warrior arguing for stealth, but who lacked the red fangs of the spellcaster Yaluh Nimun had killed, rather sporting the golden fangs of his fellows. Then there were two others, who both fit standard orcish types. One was clearly a devout follower of their high god, Gruumsh, as he was missing an eye, and was called the Eye of Gruumsh by the warchief, who listened to his advice rather more than the others. The last member of this honored group wore bone white gloves over taloned hands and never spoke, which was confusing until Yaluh Nimun saw him laugh and realized his tongue was missing. Besides this core, there were almost two hundred ¡®standard¡¯ orcs, though there were far fewer children than he¡¯d expect of a band this size. Perhaps they had not survived the march? That might explain their eagerness for new slaves and children thereof, though recognizing the superior blood of the Swift Coursers could also explain it. Of course, he could escape into the grassland and survive to reach some other tribe, who would, no doubt, welcome a warrior and hunter of his skill and reputation...but, the Coursers were the farthest flung tendril of the great alliance of tribes known to outsiders as the Horse People (well, actually, true outsiders called all residents of the steppe that, but the Horse People were the true core of the steppe, with the other major alliances contesting that role). They had gone west to sever the Kith from the Patrein great clans as the two groups had been working together to try to let southern merchants reach the cities in the north without going through the territory of the Horse People. It had worked, of course, but that meant that as they were driving ever westward, he would have to cross enemy territory to reach that of his own people, and even then it would be that of other tribes, even if the same people. People who had not known him in his youth, and who he did not truly know. There would be connections, of course, Yaluh Nimun had ridden in the warbands of the great leaders of the Horse People many times and distinguished himself, but he knew how he would treat even a great warrior whose fellows had all died and it would not be well. Indeed, he would undoubtedly have to face many challenges just to be accepted. He could do it. Yaluh Nimun could do anything but that would mean abandoning the other Coursers. Outstanding as he was, he could not maintain their ways alone. Though he could obviously fulfill all the male roles, he didn¡¯t even know the female roles and so could not teach any of the women who would doubtless seek to wed him¡­ No, for now, he would continue on, enduring the situation until the moment came to strike back. The right moment would no doubt be some point during the trip across the river. Exactly when, he would have to depend upon his unparalleled combat instincts to tell him when to spring him into action. Robert: Cleanup The news that Rawlins had killed a pair of giant two headed monsters and adopted their baby was...confusing. He hadn¡¯t abandoned his duties, of course, the caverns had been fully swept, no other monsters located and the tunnels down into what the goblins called the Deep Dark and the quest screen called the Underdark were under guard. There was a decision that needed to be made there, about blocking it off, or constructing a guard post, but that was for later. Also for later would be using the remaining boxes on someone, depending on how many additional ones they got. Given what the others had received, he was curious what he would get if he ¡®leveled up¡¯...but he didn¡¯t need it. The goblins were thrilled by the reclamation of the lower caverns though the strange two-headed creatures had ravaged the mushroom fields and eaten every giant rat they could catch, it was still less bad then they¡¯d feared. Some areas the dirt was badly compressed and would need to be raked up and re-fertilized, but the mushrooms hadn¡¯t been all eaten and many of the smaller nooks and crannies had been left alone as the giants couldn¡¯t fit their hands inside to pick them. And they couldn¡¯t use the ladders the goblins did to access the galleries, and though their height was significant and their strength impressive, apparently they didn¡¯t manage chin-ups and so had only plundered the galleries where they could reach them, except one which they¡¯d managed to bring all the way down to the ground by successfully clambering up onto it somehow. For whatever reason, the quest boxes had not updated, but then again, they hadn¡¯t updated until the next morning last time. Perhaps whoever/whatever was doing this only checked those in the morning?Theorizing was pointless. When Rawlins had sent a runner, Robert had followed along to see. He¡¯d thought the orog was massive, these had to be thirteen feet tall and surely weighed at least a ton. After a moment¡¯s thought, he remembered the [Enlarge/Reduce] spell a few spellcasters had and the Artificers could select. The material component was a bit of powdered iron, which he didn¡¯t love wasting, but to get rid of these two giants, he¡¯d take it. But it only lasted a minute, and even at a fair clip, getting to the outside wouldn¡¯t be that fast. The spells would have to be layered on there as if it expanded in the passage, there would be problems. Most of the people who might have the spell didn¡¯t have it today, so he ordered a runner to have Captain Simpkins make sure those who could have it, would have it tomorrow. The corpses would have to be removed then. The men were disassembling a massive mound of garbage. Most of its was useless, rotted hides, or timbers which were infested with termites or ants. There was a pile of things which might be salvageable, corroded metal and a surprising number of coins. But the vast majority of it was food waste and normal waste as well, though the goblins arriving were scrapping that off and pulling it towards the rat nests, which would, apparently consume almost anything and produce fertilizer for the mushrooms in turn. It was remarkable efficient, though he couldn¡¯t help wondering what they did with the skins of the rats they killed. Given everything else, he doubted they simply threw them away, but they certainly weren¡¯t wearing them. Their scarves were clearly woven from longer hair, probably their own, as were their loin cloths, not being made of tanned hides. Perhaps they lacked the knowledge or materials to tan the hides? That might be something they could provide, he was sure there was a tanner amongst his men, though really he needed another list of the men¡¯s prior professions, to go along with the list of their new skills and what supplies they had. Speaking of which, they had now fired more than 150 of their 4200 shots. Hopefully Rawlins would be able to create more at a reasonable cost with his new ability and they might be rewarded with enough EXP boxes to level up a few more clerics. Though many men had gained EXP from this combat, none had gained enough to level up, though Trip would have, if he hadn¡¯t already gained one through the boxes. That balancing act was going to be annoying. Push people over before a battle, or let the battle do it for them, while concentrating boxes elsewhere? Several men from Rawlins¡¯ squad were close enough that the two remaining boxes could push ay of them over, but none of them were Artificers or Clerics. He was tempted to try spreading it out, the skills those two classes had gained at level 2 were extremely useful, while Trip¡¯s gains were far less so. Should he try to focus on the known gains, or spread things around? This was all an effort to distract him from the gigantic baby in the center of the mound, which Rawlins was fussing over, attempting to calm. Thankfully it already had teeth and seemed more than capable of eating food (indeed, Rawlins was trying to get it to eat from his own rations, rather than pulling rotting food from the pile surrounding it. This was good, as if it had needed milk Robert had no earthly notion of how they would find enough milk to feed a babe of that size, given his limited understanding of the yields from the giant rats...though perhaps they could have hired a goblin wet nurse...or twelve? Though he did not know if goblin babes needed milk. For all he knew goblins might come out of eggs. He shook off that thought and quailed at the thought of talking to Rawlins as the older man was attempting to clean the giant filthy baby with his handkerchief and water from his canteen. Instead, he went to talk to Trip and examine the fortifications on the entrance to the Underdark/Deep Dark. They were reasonable, though stronger ones could be built, the question was, did they want a gatehouse or a wall? That was a problem for later and frankly, maybe not for him. He was starting to slide again into everything being his responsibility and that was true within the regiment, but ¡®should this area be open to exploration or not,¡¯ was not a military question, but an archetypal civilian question. It was the government that decided when territories were opened to exploration and colonization, not the Army...but there was no government here. Yet. That would have to be remedied soon, but that just raised the question of what they were? Still part of the United States, or something new? Perhaps that question could be dodged for now, but the question of what to do with a baby the size of a goblin couldn¡¯t be avoided much longer. Men, were carrying the remnants of a shattered gallery out, as the rock might be useful building material, while the other rocks were simply being gathered by the entrance for use in whatever defenses needed to be constructed. He gained another few moments by checking the rat nests. They were as disgusting as he feared. Indeed, he actually found them quite frightening, even though the rats were clearly shying away from the lights of his escorts, he could still see their shadowy forms running about just on the edge of the light. They were nearly the size of goblins and their furtive, ratish motions seemed wrong on something that large. As he reluctantly returned, he found another honorable cause for delay as Madam Varrarg had arrived and was inspecting the cavern, while dragging another goblin, one of the guides, as he¡¯d been there when Robert had arrived, around behind her, with one ear clenched firmly in sharp-nailed fingers. ¡°Colonel, sir, uh¡­¡± Sergeant Wilson interrupted him on the way over. ¡°Yes, Sergeant?¡± ¡°Merrik did a good job, sir. He distracted our beast and spotted the other in the dark. Whatever is happening over there, he did a good job.¡± Well, that at least identified the goblin. He nodded back to the sergeant and kept moving. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡± As he approached he heard muttered insults at Merrik¡¯s intelligence combined with comments about the state of the cavern. ¡°No way to rebuild that¡ªreduce yields somewhat, but we don¡¯t have enough smart goblins to even work what¡¯s here, even if I were to count you as smart, despite you deciding to rush a giant instead of hiding behind the humans like a smart goblin!¡± ¡°But grandma¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t grandma me. You¡¯re the only other adult Breakleg, if you die our family goes the way of the Nonoses!¡± ¡°You¡¯d just teach one of the kids, you¡¯ll probably outlive me,¡± he muttered. ¡°Because I¡¯m too smart to rush giants instead of hiding behind the soldiers who know how to fight!¡± His voice dropped, but Robert thought he could hear a response containing the phrase ¡®too mean to die.¡¯ ¡°What was that?¡± Madam Varrarg asked with a sharp twist to the ear that brought a pained squeal and a denial that anything had been said. ¡°Ma¡¯am,¡± Robert said as he approached. She untwisted Merrik¡¯s ear, but didn¡¯t release it, though he tried to straighten. ¡°Ah, Colonel, thank you for returning our caverns to us and slaying the beasts. Did I understand correctly, that Ser¡ªLieutenant Rawlins intends to ¡®adopt,¡¯¡± he heard the word adopt, but her mouth moved considerably longer, like she was explaining some unknown thing to him, ¡°the child of these creatures?¡± she waved her free hand a the corpses. ¡°I believe so, yes. Apparently they could speak, and we can hardly kill an intelligent creature for the crimes of its parents.¡± She gave him a confused look, then shrugged. ¡°On his head be it. I hope his faith is not leading him astray.¡± Robert blinked at that, but pushed forward, ¡°We won¡¯t be able to remove the bodies until tomorrow.¡± She shrugged again, ¡°We could chop ¡®em up and feed ¡®em to the rats, if it¡¯ll save you work.¡± Robert shuddered slightly at the suggestion, to Madam Varrarg¡¯s clear confusion. He forced himself to explain calmly. ¡°I do not know your funeral rituals, or those of these...people. In the absence of direct indication to the otherwise, we will give them a proper funeral, for the sake of their souls and our own.¡± He suddenly realized he didn¡¯t know what had happened to his own body. Had it vanished when he came here, or hard a new one been made for his soul? What would the rebels have done with it if it was left there? They¡¯d proclaimed that captured officers commanding Colored troops would be executed as those who incited insurrection were. The obvious comparison was John Brown, who he knew had been returned to his wife for burial...though the corpse of his son and three of his followers had ended up in the hands of doctors who dissected them rather than allowing proper burial and rest. Though the college of those fiends had burned at the hands of General Banks¡¯ more than a year ago...but that was slim comfort to the soul and body of those men. To fear your body was in the hands of men such as that was a hard thing, but he forced himself away from that thought. He shook the thought off as Merrik twisted and broke free of his grandmother¡¯s chiding hand, ¡°Colonel, I did the right thing, didn¡¯t I? Helping your men? I did help, didn¡¯t I?¡± Robert met his gaze evenly, though he had to look down at the young man. ¡°You did help.¡± the boy puffed up. ¡°Whether you did the right thing? If you were one of my soldiers, the answer would be yes. But you aren¡¯t. Whether you did the right thing as a Breakleg, I don¡¯t know. But if you wish to enlist...talk to Trip. And your family.¡± He nodded politely to the boy and to Madam Varrarg, whose red eyes narrowed at him. ¡°I thought your weapons wouldn¡¯t work for us.¡± ¡°We may have a solution for that, we¡¯ll be testing it tomorrow.¡± ¡°Already?¡± was what she said, but Robert heard ¡®Wait, you were serious?¡¯ ¡°Yes. We don¡¯t know how well it will work, but we make progress. As you see,¡± he said with an expansive wave at the reconquered cavern. Captain Simpkins arrived at that point to inspect the progress and joined Robert after a moment. He took orders about removing the bodies and providing the information about the soldier¡¯s prior employment and skills. And to Robert¡¯s request that he identify someone else who had experience to act as chaplain going forward, as Robert did not have the skills to do it...especially given his youthful dalliances with Catholicism and his family history of Unitarianism, while most of the men were Baptists or Episcopalians. He had no desire for religious turmoil in the ranks, but he had even less desire for it to appear he was attempting to convert anyone. Simpkins instantly looked towards Rawlins and Robert quickly shook his head. The new lieutenant was busy with his new duties and would be even more busy given what he was clearly setting up. Making him chaplain as well was simply unreasonable. While he¡¯d been doing that, more goblins had come down and were starting to organize things, talking to Trip who was casually handling the defensive operations. Robert released the other squads, leaving one on guard duty here. With another on guard duty for the base and two at the field, a large portion of his forces would be tied down defensively, especially when it was considered that the guards needed to be on all day and night, which at least doubled the number of men needed. Now, two squads were sent out to the field specifically to address that, but it still meant more than half of their eleven squads (counting officers) were on guard duty. They could do some other work, but it was just too much. He needed more men, a way to reduce the guard forces needed, or both. The obvious way was to abandon the field...but he had no idea if more men would be coming through. He needed more people. The goblins could help and Thomas was already working on designs to let a small number of people accomplish a lot, his proposal to install a sawmill where the river bent a bit north of them, then use the outlet of the mill pond to water both crops and to ¡®flush¡¯ the saltpeter works that were being constructed downwind of everything else and well away from water supplies. But to really improve the place, they both needed more people and needed to get more use out of the people they had, which meant training and educating the goblins, as well as learning their tricks. And it meant making greater use of spells. There was an [Alarm] spell (though it required a bell and silver wire...and the field could be left with clear signage directing any arrivals to wait. If hunting, or prospecting groups went through there daily, or every few days, that might be more efficient...he¡¯d wait until three days had passed with no new arrivals before shifting to that. If the entrance to the Underdark was sealed, then they¡¯d just need to trust the goblins to flee and warn them of a breach, given the stories they¡¯d apparently told about burrowing and flying monsters, total security might be a delusion and men would just need to keep weapons close and have systems for rapid mobilization. His own minutemen, as it were. There was also the [Find Familiar] spell, for scouting and warning, but the resources it needed, combined with the short range made that less attractive. Better to focus on more broadly useable things, such as making use of lookouts, the top of the mesa offered impressive views, and if men, or goblins were equipped with field glasses, or telescopes, they might easily keep watch on the entire area, unto the treeline on this side of the river, or the far distant hills on the other...yes, that would be a priority, along with the other many things he would need Rawlins to make... With that decision made, he was out of excuses and went to talk to Rawlins. ¡°Lieutenant.¡± ¡°Colonel, sir, I know he¡¯s--they¡¯re large, but no larger than a goblin and though they¡¯ll get bigger, that¡¯ll make them so useful in construction and work on the walls. They¡¯ll probably be able to lift entire trees into position!¡± ¡°Lieutenant¡ª¡± ¡°And think what a soldier they could be! Flying artillery will have nothing on the 54th!¡± ¡°Lieutenant¡ª¡± ¡°If a man fights like four men, surely we can feed him like four men too. And there¡¯s two of them, really, so¡ª¡± Robert overcame his irritation with an effort and forced himself not to yell. Officers didn¡¯t yell at one another, at least not in front of enlisted men. Instead he forced his voice to drop to a whisper. ¡°Rawlins.¡± The man finally stopped babbling arguments and just looked at him like he was a monster, with the certainty that something horrible was about to happen. ¡°If you wish to adopt this¡ªthese people, that is fine, I do not believe we are likely to encounter any relatives to contest such an action.¡± Rawlins sagged in relief and Robert continued forward, ¡°I won¡¯t waste your time with the fact that you¡¯ll need to make sure you manage your private life to not interfere with your duties, but I will point out that so long as they remain your care, you will be responsible for them and their actions.¡± Even as he said it, he knew he didn¡¯t have a good alternative if Rawlins decided he wasn¡¯t taking responsibility for the child (or children). He certainly wasn¡¯t killing them, but it¡¯s not like there were handy civilian families or churches he could turn them over to and turning them over to the goblins seemed cruel given what his (nudity meant it was obviously ¡®his¡¯...or ¡®their¡¯) parents had done to them.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Yes, of course!¡± ¡°Then, you¡¯re officially given the rest of the day off to get this sorted, but we¡¯ll need your assistance tomorrow to test the Artisan¡¯s Blessing.¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± ¡°Sergeant Wilson, you¡¯ve got command.¡± ¡°Yes, sir!¡± With that resolved, Robert fled quickly, pausing only to grab the coinage that had been retrieved. He counted it and added it to the inventory on top of the chest. An additional 31 copper coins, 25 silver coins, 22 of some strange metal he didn¡¯t recognize, 16 gold coins and another 2 of a different metal he didn¡¯t recognize. He tried working on a list of things to get from Artisan¡¯s Blessing to get price information. He made it through most of the list before he fell asleep at his desk, only to be awoken by a yelling messenger, the woodcutters had found something. And it had trapped a number of them, but they were talking rather than shooting. So far. Robert sprang to his feet, tripped over his travel desk, recovered and made it outside in something that looked like a dash, rather than a sprawl. The messenger was talking with Cabot. Apparently another man had come through, he¡¯d apparently died of his wounds after the battle, but still coming through (another Commoner alas). He¡¯d been being escorted to the mesa by a squad swapping out on guard duty and they¡¯d taken a more direct route than had previously been taken, as they decided to combine blazing a trail with bringing the man in, only to find themselves trapped in magically erupting vines and a voice speaking from the trees, demanding to know a bunch of stuff. A messenger was sent to bring back an officer. ¡°Simpkins, one squad with me. Private, lead the way,¡± Robert ordered, moving out at a quick march. A scratch squad was sent after him, catching up in moments. It took far less time than the previous route, and they were there in only a few minutes. There were no vines in view, instead he found ten men standing around one shockingly beautiful woman whose only clothing was leaves which were shifting over her green body like unstable sheets. His first thought was orc, just due to skin color, but she had none of the broad, brutish features of an orc, instead her face was built along human lines, but thinner, more delicate. Besides her skin color and the leaves, her only truly inhuman characteristic was the pointed ears. All ten men were boasting about their roles in the regiment and in combat against the rebels. So much so that none of them even noticed when he arrived, until the sergeant in charge of his escort snapped, ¡°ATTENTION!¡± Then drilled instinct took over and they leapt back into position. ¡°As you were,¡± Robert said, noting the woman also leapt into a mockery of the attention position when she saw what everyone else was doing and then relaxed when they did. ¡°Corporal, will you introduce your companion?¡± ¡°Certainly, Colonel. Miss Silene of the Great Oak, I introduce you to Colonel Robert Shaw, Commander of the 54th Massachusetts Regiment.¡± ¡°My, my, my that¡¯s an impressive title and a fancy uniform! You must be someone important who has seen so many interesting things and has so many interesting stories!¡± she¡ªhe¡¯d somehow expected her to purr seductively, in a manner which fit her appearance and would be hard to deal with, given his recent marriage. Instead she spoke much like one of his sisters. But of more immediate interest was how she¡¯d been speaking to the others, which he had realized was unusual, but only after he¡¯d taken off...the most likely explanation was some sort of magic, though none of the spells they¡¯d identified would allow that, besides his own boon. He bowed slightly to her, ¡°I may have a few. May I ask how we¡¯re communicating?¡± ¡°Oh, an elf taught me the [Tongues] spell a few centuries ago before they all ran off for their little war. I can only cast it once a day, and it only lasts for an hour, but that¡¯s plenty of time for lots of stories. You have to tell me something. I¡¯ve got no one to talk to but plants and animals since the other dryads ran off to the Feywild! I¡¯ve been soooo bored!¡± The impression of his younger sisters was even more impressive, as she clearly hadn¡¯t met them and was apparently centuries old. Robert nodded as his brain reeled at the question of how old this ¡®dryad¡¯ who was acting like his little sister had to be, given what she¡¯d just said, assuming he believed her. He put that to one side and focused on the important things. ¡°I understand you imprisoned some of my men?¡± ¡°Oh, just an [Entangle] because they were getting close to my tree and I thought they wanted to carve in it like they did the others. Can¡¯t have that, it¡¯s my life! But then they got out those fancy sticks and pointed them at me and everything was very exciting as everyone yelled. I¡¯m afraid I called the man who ran off many names, as I thought he was a coward, but now I see he was a courier. I really am sorry,¡± she patted the messenger on the shoulder and though his skin made it hard to tell, Robert was fairly sure the man was blushing. ¡°So, this is just a misunderstanding?¡± he asked and the men all nodded eagerly. ¡°Unless you attack my tree! It¡¯s that one,¡± she pointed at what sure looked like a massive oak tree. ¡°Isn¡¯t it handsome? Such a magnificent tree, it¡¯s the youngest here by at least a hundred years, but thanks to my careful tending,¡± her voice lowered conspiratorially, ¡°and a bit of pruning of the others nearby, don¡¯t tell anyone, it¡¯s by far the best around! Even the other trees agree.¡± Robert nodded again, as that was the second time she implied she could talk to plants and she¡¯d earlier implied she could speak to animals. There was a spell which did that too, but the need to bribe and interrogate the animals, combined with the knowledge that they usually killed and ate animals made that an uncomfortable prospect for many. ¡°We were planning to put a trail in here, is that a problem?¡± ¡°Not at all, I¡¯d be happy of the company! People can stop by and chat whenever you¡¯re traveling along it! Why, so many might go along that I had to learn your language as we all talked so long that [Tongues] ran out! Wouldn¡¯t that be fun?¡± Robert, who was operating on two brief naps in the last three days, which had also included three battles, a death, an adoption of a giant two-headed baby, a transportation to another world and more confusing blue boxes than he could count at the moment, did not find it fun. Given the way the men were staring at her, he was clearly the only one to feel that way. ¡°I¡¯m sure it will be. Did I understand you correctly that you can speak to plants and animals? And have been here for...a while?¡± He didn¡¯t actually know if the etiquette rules for referencing a lady¡¯s age applied to a centuries old dryad, but he didn¡¯t feel like finding out, especially as she kept referencing spells which weren¡¯t in his little list and therefore probably were not 1st level spells, implying she was more powerful than any of their spellcasters. ¡°Oh, yes, I know lots about the forest and talk to all the plants and animals. They¡¯re boring though, I¡¯d rather talk to you folks! You¡¯re new and interesting!¡± ¡°I see, perhaps a game? Lieutenant Merriman is handling our food needs, I¡¯m sure he has many questions about local plants and animals...you do know we eat them?¡± ¡°Oh, yes, just like the wolves eat the deer and the deer eat the grass, it¡¯s very funny. You all look so silly eating and drinking. Why, when I fed your men some goodberries, all their little bulges jumped up and down like they were dancing!¡± Robert blinked. His mind went somewhere filthy and then came back. [Goodberry] was the spell Sharts had wanted, which created berries that could allegedly provide all the food a man needed in a day in a single berry. Which made the bulge going up and down an Adam¡¯s apple. And of course they¡¯d happily eaten food provided by a strange plant lady in the dangerous woods. Had none of them heard any fairy tales as children? ¡°How...fascinating. Gentlemen, please escort Corporal Gooding,¡± and Robert was pleased to see the man straighten at being recognized, ¡°back to camp and request that Lieutenant Merriman bring along a few folks who know about plants¡ª¡± ¡°And folks with fun stories! But what¡¯s the game you mentioned?¡± she asked eagerly. ¡°Oh, and do you want some goodberries?¡± ¡°And folks with fun stories. No, thank you. The game would be the question game, he¡¯ll ask a question about local plants or animals, and you answer, then you can ask a question about our old history and he¡¯ll answer. In the meantime, you and I can play. We¡¯re looking for mistletoe, do you know where we can find some?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± she smiled, then when Robert raised an eyebrow, she gave instructions, to a surprisingly close location and Robert sent off half his squad to fetch it. ¡°Tell me how you got that scar,¡± she reached out towards thescar on his neck. He flinched, but kept his back straight. ¡°The Battle of Antietam¡­¡± he did not have the strength to return her joke in kind and simply continued when he could. ¡°the rebels had come north, seeking to invade our territory, rather than fight on their own. They had ravaged Maryland, ravenous men seeking to feed themselves on the crops of the Union, even as they rebelled against it. I was a captain, with the 2nd Massachusetts. We were part of the 3rd Brigade, 1st Division, XII Corps of the Army of the Potomac.¡± ¡°Wow! And there¡¯s over a hundred of you in the 54th, so, those must be really big numbers of men involved! How many?¡± He should have asked another question of his own in response, but he wasn¡¯t quite there anymore. ¡°The Regiment had many hundreds of men. The Corps more than eight thousand, the Army, I heard had more than a hundred thousand, though I think only half fought that day.¡± ¡°A hundred thousand? That¡¯s...I can¡¯t even imagine it.¡± ¡°We were sent to dislodge the rebels and marched into cannonfire. We kept good order, closing to rifle range ¡®marching under the flag of the union, keeping step in brave comunion¡¯ until the cannon drowned out bugles and knocked me from my feet. Some shrapnel hit me here...they didn¡¯t tell me what it was when they removed it, but I saw it. It was a piece of bone from one of the men around me, flung into my body by the force which removed it from his. We retreated. The rebel cheered. But in the end, their invasion failed and they fled back to Virginia. They say more than ten thousand men on each side were injured or killed that day...I suppose, technically I¡¯m one of them, though I don¡¯t really think this counts,¡± he tapped the scar, staring past the dryad into the forest. It was early evening and shadows were just beginning to lengthen, but to him, it felt like midday. ¡°Wow! That¡¯s so exciting!¡± He controlled the urge to draw his pistol and show her exciting. ¡°What are the directions to the nearest tree that was hit by lightning?¡± he asked instead, through gritted teeth. She provided them eagerly. ¡°How did you join the¡­¡± her nose crinkled as she tried to remember what he¡¯d said, ¡°2nd Massachusetts?¡± ¡°It was my second regiment, I joined the 7th New York on a 90 day commitment. When that dissolved, Cabot and I joined the 2nd Massachusetts and was elected an officer...I was with them eighteen months, until after Antietam...Shamrock leaf?¡± ¡°No idea. Never heard of it. Wait..months? How old are you?¡± ¡°25 years. I¡¯ll be 26 in about three months. Yew?¡± ¡°You¡¯re only 25 years old? How fast does your tree grow?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have a tree.¡± ¡°Right. I knew that. That doesn¡¯t count!¡± She belatedly gave directions to the Yew tree. Robert shrugged, the more important thing was the relationship with someone who knew the forest, he had many men with many anecdotes who could amuse her. Though, as he watched the men of his escort shifting position and flexing slightly, he realized that one attractive woman and more than a hundred men might be significantly worse than zero attractive women and a more than a hundred men. Given her eagerness and naivete, he doubted she was going to simply choose someone. ¡°Pardon?¡± he asked, as she¡¯d spoken while he was distracted. She repeated the question. ¡°How did you come here? Almost no one does, except the occasional orcish or sahuagin outcast and they always try to kill me.¡± Another reminder that this was not a woman to be messed with. ¡°I died. We all did, attempting to storm a fort defending Charleston. We volunteered to lead the assault. We charged and reached the walls. I died as we tried to storm the parapet. Then I woke up here, we all did, along with strange powers and odd floating translucent boxes. Then we found some orcs enslaving goblins, killed the one and freed the others and are now building a colony to survive, defend ourselves and bring the light of God and the Union to this territory.¡± ¡°Uh...I have more questions, but its your turn.¡± ¡°Wychwood?¡± ¡°No idea.¡± ¡°You saw ¡®floating translucent boxes¡¯?¡± ¡°Yes, each of us saw different content.¡± She gave him a flat look, ¡°What did yours look like?¡± ¡°It had a great deal of basic information, name, age, faith. Then claimed to somehow quantify our strength, dexterity, constitution, intelligence, wisdom and charisma and identify specific abilities which were given to me. For instance, mine granted me the ability to provide some healing via laying on hands and to allegedly sense undead or fiends.¡± Speaking of which, he focused hard and tried to use that ability, just in case. He couldn¡¯t tell if it worked until he brought up his screen and checked.
Name: Robert Gould Shaw Hit Points: 10
Species: Human Strength: 13
Class: Paladin Dexterity: 10
Background: Military Constitution: 10
EXP: 35/300 Intelligence: 12
Level: 1 Wisdom: 14
Deity: Christian God Charisma: 16
Age: 25 AC: 10
Skills: Persuasion, Religion, Athletics, Intimidation, Martial Weapons, Firearms
Background Feature: Officer (Colonel): Members of the Union Army recognize your rank and subordinates will generally defer to you. You can requisition support and supplies at Army posts.
Species Feature: Human: You gain EXP faster and level faster than more long lived species.
Sense Evil: 3 times per long rest you may invoke your divine senses and become aware of any undead or fiends within 60 feet of you, as well as sense anyone committing an evil act within that radius at the time of invocation.
Lay on Hands: You may heal up to 5 HP per long rest, simply by touching the target and willing it so.
Divine Boon of Translation: You will be able to understand any spoken language you hear or any language you read [barring unusual circumstances]. You may also mark two (2) subordinates with this boon. Caution, once chosen, the boon cannot be removed! Additional uses may be gained as well.
Yes, it had previously been 4 uses, so she wasn¡¯t a ¡®fiend¡¯ or ¡®undead¡¯ and wasn¡¯t carrying out any evil acts, however the boxes defined that. ¡°Oh, that is soooo weird! I¡¯ve never heard of anything like that, ever before! How fascinatingly interesting!¡± ¡°Glowworm?¡± he asked She gave directions, but warned it was a cave with an old, mean bear she called Snapper, inside. Lieutenant Merriman was taking his time, so he had to answer a few more questions about the boxes, even calling it up, so she could wave her hand through where it appeared to be to him. They¡¯d already known no one else could see it, obviously, but seeing her hand pass through it was strangely disturbing. He¡¯d seen his own do that when he first arrived, but that had been when he thought they were physical things, so had been too shocked to observe his fingers passing through what looked almost like a plane of blue glass, floating in the air. In exchange, he asked about local threats, which got him a lengthy lecture about wildfire risk to trees, until he finally managed to remind her that he wasn¡¯t a tree person. She repeated the goblin¡¯s claim about monsters in the river, though she called them Sahuagin? Shark people? Who could breathe underwater! Allegedly they ranged up the river at times, hunting their ancient enemies, the elves, or, more frequently sent scouts up it, or exiles fled there, having committed some crime too heinous even for their allegedly barbarous society. Given Miss Silene¡¯s admitted history with elves, Robert wasn¡¯t inclined to take any position on such people without first hand experience. Especially given that fighting someone underwater would negate...all of their advantages in technology. Of more immediate concern was the fact that giant spiders (and didn¡¯t even the mention of that send a chill through him) had spilled out of some caves to the north and were claiming a portion of the forest itself. One of the men spoke up, ¡°Can you eat ¡®em?¡± Robert couldn¡¯t contain a surprised and disgusted look at the other man. ¡°What? If they¡¯re that big, it¡¯s just like crab, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never tried, but Snapper¡¯s eaten a couple over the years, never done him any harm.¡± A few more questions got a description of the monsters and a warning about their stealth, webs and poisonous bite. Spiders the size of dogs or horses were very low on his list of things to encounter but even lower on his list of things to encounter on their terms, rather than his. Spiders the size of horses were right out altogether. They¡¯d need to be dealt with. And if there were as many as she said, then using [Purify Food and Drink] and preserving the meat with salt was the obvious choice. And since they were only knowing spilling out of a cave system, which, as far as she knew only had two entrances, They could secure them both early in the day, then set up lights and smoke the beasts either out, or to death...but there might be lower levels which would not fill...but if they could secure the entrances and smoke out the upper layers, they could then advance slowly and empty the entire place...probably. Another problem for later. The only other danger was a ¡®Galeb Duhr¡¯ or ¡®big living rock thing¡¯ that protected a ¡®sacred¡¯ hilltop to the west and killed anyone who encroached. Miss Silene¡¯s main complaint was that the thing wouldn¡¯t talk to her, but as she finished that complaint, Merriman and a few of his men showed up and Robert was able to switch off to let him handle it. He retreated, with his own, somewhat reluctant, squad, leaving her to Merriman. Over a few muttered comments about her beauty, he heard Miss Silene¡¯s first question ¡°Why¡¯s his skin so pale? Did he fall in a bucket of milk as a child?¡± Well...at least that told them something about the skin tones of these elves. Hearing mention of a war made him nervous, but that was centuries ago, what could it matter to him? Interlude: Shriyrr Dottar Shriyrr Do''t''tar twisted in a writhing dance as she completed her ritual and felt the warm breath of the Spider Queen on her back. For a moment, she froze, for it was when the Spider Queen seemed happiest with you that you had to fear her mercurial nature the most. Of course, when the Spider Queen was most angry with you, you had to fear her wrath. Shriyrr left for other peoples the foolish beliefs that their gods were constant, or loved them, or were anything other than powerful being who had to be appeased, before they could be used. But this day, the Spider Queen let herself be used and her power infused the nest surrounding her. They would breed more rapidly now. She would have to go to every nest in this blessed part of the Underdark and repeat the ritual, or this nest would expand, only able to truly be opposed by the other nest she had already completed this ritual at. And that would not do. She would recreate the lessons of the Spider Queen, competition bred strength. Every nest would breed faster. More would spill onto the surface, perhaps causing some trouble for the weak surface dwellers, but that was only an amusing side effect of the true purpose of her actions. The war beneath would rage until the whole was stronger, until the whole was strong enough.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. She had some influence over the spiders, due to her blessings,, but they were simple creatures and saw little need do more than tolerate her. But when they were all strengthened, then she would summon her twin to this place, to lead this army of spiders. Not against fellow drow, of course, that would never work, even if her sister were willing to be around other drow, the Spider Queen¡¯s blessings were fickle, but any drow outpost would have many protected from spiders, too many for one drow and one drider to conquer. But there was a city of the rock grubs nearby and with enough spiders they could surely overcome its defenses and rule it as they wished. The Do¡¯t¡¯tar sisters, conquerers. Queens. Together. Yes, it was the plan, it would work. Which meant she had to go to the next nest once she rested. She sank to the ground, flowing gratefully into the trance, where she saw her and her twin¡¯s shared trip to the Daemonweb, Lolth¡¯s domain, to be tested. One had risen, blessed, the other had fallen, cursed. And only the two of them knew the truth, they had performed identically. The Spider Queen had chosen one to punish and one to reward at random. Because it amused her to so split the sisters who had, against all custom and tradition, trusted one another and not been betrayed for it. Robert: Awakenings Robert had slept through the night. It hadn¡¯t made up for the last few days, but it was a first step. And he found himself waking up, eagerly as he remembered they¡¯d completed a quest. If it was as well rewarded as the last, he might be able to get Rawlins to Level 3, and maybe even get several others to Level 2 and see what their classes gained at that level. Indeed, there was a box in front of his face as soon as he awoke.
Quest Complete! You¡¯ve completed the quest: Remove the Threat in the Lower Level of the Mesa. Reward: 1 Random Reward Box (Regular Tier), Recipe: Mushroom Stew, Recipe: Rat Leather Armor, and 1 Ever Burning Torch!
And, indeed, a torch glowing brightly, flames leaping around its head dropped in his bedroll as did two small pieces of paper. Robert instantly tried to smother the fire in his blankets, which did not work, but after a brief moment of squealing that brought in another soldier, he realized it was not burning him, pulled it out blushing from underneath his sheets, passed it to the guard and dismissed him to deliver that to Thomas, carefully ignoring the other man¡¯s sniggering at his half-dressed state and panic. He brought up the quest screen and found the information for the completed quest, though he spotted several more boxes that had gone from black to blue.
Remove the Threat in the Lower Level of the Mesa (Total Monster CR: 8.25) SUCCEEDED Reward: 1 Random Reward Box (Regular Tier) Additional Objectives: Minimize damage to mushroom farms. SUCCEEDED Reward: Recipe: Mushroom Stew! Tame the Threat. IN PROGRESS Destroy the Threat. IN PROGRESS Expel the Threat. IN PROGRESS Preserve Giant Rats. SUCCEEDED Reward: Recipe: Rat Leather Armor! Secure entrance to the Underdark. SUCCEEDED Reward: 1 Ever Burning Torch (torch with [Continual Flame] cast upon it).
Robert did not, as a general rule, swear. But it was a close run thing when he realized, belatedly, that the quest was treating the baby as part of the threat and withholding rewards until they either murdered them, expelled them, or ¡®tamed¡¯ them. That was...these boxes were definitely not to be trusted. He bent over and picked up the recipes. They were useless. Sure, they included a list of required ingredients and that the stew would ¡®allow regaining an additional 1d8 hit points if consumed over a short rest¡¯ and the armor would ¡®function as +1 leather armor,¡¯ but though Robert was no cook, or tanner, he knew that you needed more than just a list of ingredients! He pocketed them to be turned over to Thomas when he ran into the man. With that done, he pulled back and looked at the new blue boxes.
Deal with the spider threat (Total Monster CR: 100-200) Additional Objectives: Destroy all nests Discover the cause of the spiders¡¯ domain expansion Tame the spiders Destroy the Spider Queen
Well, that was a really, really high ¡®CR¡¯ whatever that was. Much higher than any of the others...though the quest for the Storm Claws had been 10, while the one for the two-headed giants was only 8.25, but significantly harder and more dangerous, but there had been many more Storm Claws...perhaps it simply meant there were many spiders, not that the quest was actually ten to twenty times harder? Regardless, the first step there was to figure out if they needed to deal with it at all. He¡¯d check with Merriman on food supply. And he¡¯d need to know if Rawlins could make additional ammunition, if not, they¡¯d need to save it, not spend it attacking vast numbers of spiders. And this business about a spider queen, or taming spiders was fairly terrifying. He moved on to the next quest.
Conquer the Hilltop (Total Monster CR: 6) Additional Objectives: Kill the Galeb Duhr Deconsecrate the hilltop Consecrate the hilltop to your God
What? Why would he do anything like that? It was absurd.
Retrieve the glowworms (Total Monster CR: 3) Additional Objectives: Kill Snapper. Sneak past Snapper. Negotiate with Snapper.
Okay, this was a more reasonable one. They didn¡¯t desperately need the glowworms, but bear was good eating and the spell component would be useful for the [Dancing Lights] cantrip, which was a moveable light, unlike the [Light] one. Being able to send it ahead and maneuver it at will, even if only within 120 feet of the caster would be significantly more efficient in underground areas. He might put a squad on it. And seeing that a bear had a ¡®CR¡¯ of 3 made him feel significantly better about the spiders and other monsters in the area. He ran into Simpkins on the way to Thomas, and got an updated list of everyone¡¯s EXP. He had two 100 EXP boxes left and, conveniently two had 202 EXP, three others had 185, so he could level up one of 185, or both 202. One of the 185 was a Cleric, another was Druid and the third was a Wizard. The two 202 EXP were a Fighter and Rogue. After a moment, he decided to hold off and see if Rawlins could create ammunition and how much it cost. He ran into Thomas, who was a bit overwhelmed between designing the village, building things, organizing things and handling all the questions about spellcasting. After a moment, Robert asked about taking the spellcasting issues off his plate and Thomas reacted with gratitude rather than shame, so Robert dumped that mess in Cabot¡¯s hands, along with the random pieces of paper and moved on to find Rawlins. A quick look at the exhausted, food-stained officer who was attempting to feed his giant, two-headed baby, each of which controlled one hand that kept snatching food from the other mouth and cramming it into its own, and Robert decided to start with Merriman. Their food supply situation was not good, but also wasn¡¯t desperate. Yet. He was coordinating with Varrarg and the goblins did have excess food, due to their heavy casualties, but he was unsure how to pay for it. The Settled Feet used a barter arrangement, but at the moment the 54th was rather short on things they could actually trade...which just went to prove that Robert needed to try to get a government set up which could properly pay them...or at least give them food and supplies. Now, as they had recovered mistletoe, and had 7 Druids, each with two spell slots, who could cast [Goodberry] which summoned 10 berries, each of which could feed one person for one day, though could feed up to 140 people per day that way, if they had to (even without considering Sharts). And they would (and were) somewhat, but soldiers would not be pleased with a meal consisting of one berry a day and it would limit what else the Druids could do. Those were solvable problems, more concerning was that depending on them would mean that if they got sick, or died, they¡¯d be helpless. It was the same reason why, despite his hopes for a magical solution, he wasn¡¯t stopping or slowing work on the saltpeter fields, or the sawmill, or the regular fields. They needed multiple sources, since they weren¡¯t connected to any broader trade networks which could let them buy their way out of any failures. Well, except for the Settled Feet. Merriman did confirm that the Settled Feet who owned the salt supply would (and could) provide salt for salting meat, in exchange for half the salted meat. That felt high, but since without it, they¡¯d have to try to smoke meat to preserve it, it was reasonable enough. And the forest seemed very full of game. And, after waxing poetic about Miss Silene until Robert glared at him, he reported that Silene knew where to find most of the plants they could reasonably expect to find in the forest. Mushrooms, herbs, berries and many other vegetables, but obviously no standard crops, though some wild rice and grains might be possible. But he was seeking permission to carry out a foraging operation with the dryad¡¯s assistance. That provided an excuse for Robert to stop by the newly ¡®leveled¡¯ and rested artificer and get him to make an Alchemist¡¯s Jug and put Merriman to work on finding/creating two stones which could be used as Sending Stones. As soon as that was done, he¡¯d be able to move out. With that motivation, he moved out quickly to find what he needed. Robert couldn¡¯t delay anymore and ruthlessly grabbed up the nearest off-duty soldier, then two more and assigned them to assist Rawlins and get the man working. Three soldiers were just about able to control and feed one baby (or two babies, he really needed to know how they were treating that, for his own peace of mind, if nothing else), which freed Rawlins. The man was eager to jump into it, but Robert forced some food and tea on him before asking him to try to make 10 pieces of ammunition, including all three parts. Robert laid out 100 gold pieces from their store.Rawlins focused and his hands and lips began to move, in a strangely hypnotic way. Robert looked away from it, glanced back at his own paperwork, there was something he¡¯d missed...because he¡¯d been so exhausted and others didn¡¯t have the full picture. One of the men Corporal Braugher had 10 EXP, but he hadn¡¯t been involved in any of the combat. He was one of the men who¡¯d been here first...and they¡¯d hunted. They said they killed a deer, or something. Could you really get EXP by hunting? Or...was it just the killing which did it? He knew Sharts had gotten EXP for sniping an orc...there was an easy way to test it, either hunting themselves, or, perhaps one of the giant rats needed to be slaughtered? If so, having one of their men do it would be an easy test. He assigned Trip to ask about it and if it was needed, have the Cleric who had 185 EXP do it. If they could get him over 200, he¡¯d be able to split the difference. With that done, he spent the rest of the hour resolving disagreements about resources and timing of various needs, especially of the magic axe, as it apparently made cutting wood much easier and there were disputes between the men cutting down trees and the ones limbing the trees, cutting firewood and shaping the wood needed for the sawmill. In the end, the sawmill would make everything else far more efficient, so Robert went with that one. Rawlins finished his ritual and ten bullets, ten cartridges, and ten percussion caps appeared. And 3 gold pieces vanished. At that exchange rate, they could make more than 2500 additional shots with the gold coins they currently had. Whether they could use other coins and what the conversion rates were, he wasn¡¯t sure, but that could be tested later. For now, the next step was to figure how long a ¡®short rest¡¯ was...and whether Rawlins could engage in child care while doing it. They¡¯d give him up to four hours. If it wasn¡¯t working, then they¡¯d try it without the childcare. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. As they waited, the crudely carved stones worked, taking the enchantment easily and Merriman headed out with one, while Robert held onto the other. By the end of the day they had visited a number of sites and were transplanting numerous plants into the areas around the fields which were being prepared for the handful of crops they¡¯d been able to salvage from their supplies. More crucially, they¡¯d discovered a ¡®short rest¡¯ was one hour and could include childcare. The next few cycles got costs on other items. A rifle cost 33 gold pieces. A pistol 46 gold pieces. Pistol ammunition also cost 3 gold pieces. Finally, Rawlins asked about creating something else, as apparently the two heads slept separately...and woke up separately and then woke one another. So he was looking to make some sort of wearable earplugs and had come up with a desperate design to allow him some sleep. Robert did not suggest wearing them himself, as he did not think that would be taken well. The band would be metal to meet the requirements of Artisan¡¯s Blessing, then heavy fur, like standard earmuffs, but with a core of metal welded to the band. Robert was uncertain it would work, but it seemed worth the risk and only ended up costing 2 gold pieces, one for each set. The man also ended up making a number of clouts with metal buttons (4 gold pieces) and singing the praises of Cabot and the other spellcasters with [Prestidigitation], who could clean them (or Rawlins¡¯ own uniform) with a literal snap of his fingers, which apparently made handling infants easier. That was rather more than Robert wanted to know. Though some stupid part of him wondered if it was possible Annie was pregnant. He doubted it, they¡¯d only had a little time together, and it had been months ago, but mail could be delayed and he knew it took some time to know if you were pregnant...that thought was quite irrelevant. He¡¯d sent her a letter before the assault, she would know what he¡¯d done and why and he would simply have to hope and pray she was all right. Over the next day, by making more ammunition, they learned that the skill would take other coins and that the silver-to-gold ratio was 10-to-1, and the copper to gold ratio was 100-to-1. Which was useful information...if somewhat unnatural. Robert was no expert, but he knew that there had been a whole thing about the value of silver versus gold and whether the ratio should be 15 or 16 to 1. The only currencies which neatly divided like that were those based on something manmade. A dollar could be divided into cents nice and evenly, but those didn¡¯t line up with any round weights in silver or gold...but perhaps things were different here? Regardless, at those costs, they could equip a number of goblins with pistols...if they were willing to join and learn, though uniforms would be costly as well, but he¡¯d seen how much uniforms meant to men¡­ besides what could they offer the goblins? And was that even wise? Frankly, they needed more civilians more than they needed more soldiers. Again, what he needed to do was not be in charge of that question. Recruitment was a government decision, not a military one. But for that, they needed to gather everyone...and did everyone include their new allies? It basically had to, otherwise they didn¡¯t have any civilians, which seemed like a recipe for problems. The other problem of course was that whatever government they instituted would have no resources. Besides the goblins not using money, there was no one to trade with and therefore no trade to put tariffs on. Excise taxes were also authorized and he knew other nations used income taxes...but nothing was being sold, it was all barter and no one had any income, or coinage (except him) it was all barter...he hadn¡¯t realized how much he¡¯d depended on other systems to provide support and structure until they all vanished. To summon everyone here they¡¯d need their defenses complete, someone to watch the field...Silene was the obvious choice, but without another American present, any new arrival, fresh from the surgery tent, or rebel custody might not react well to a green woman. Oh...there was an answer after all, it was obvious once he considered it and what he needed to do and not do. Besides completing their defenses, they¡¯d need a significant store of food and an area everyone could meet. A town hall, or church would be perfect, but was probably not achievable in the available time...if the weather was good, the top of the mesa had plenty of room and if it wasn¡¯t...he¡¯d need to ask Varrarg. But first, it was time for something he¡¯d been putting off. Retreating to his tent and bracing himself for it, he claimed his second ¡®Random Reward Box.¡¯ This time the music was a bit quieter and the spinning wheel spun slower, he thought, allowing him to catch a few more of the labeled sections. ¡®Building material¡¯ was interesting, ¡®Building¡¯ was even moreso, ¡®Spell Scroll¡¯ and ¡®Spell Components¡¯ were potentially useful and the symbol of a bottle called to a part of him he¡¯d tried to ignore ever since he¡¯d enlisted. Getting drunk while a student, especially a student abroad was fine, doing so under these circumstances would be inappropriate. It landed on the bottle, which felt ominous, given what Robert had been thinking and how the boxes responded to his thoughts.
Select your potion(s): 1 Philter of Love, 1d4 Potions of Watchful Rest, 1d4 Potions of Climbing
As far back at the Greeks and Trojans, everyone knew that love magic always ended in tears, so that was right out. The other two...he didn¡¯t know what either did. He had a good guess that a Potion of Climbing would make them better climbers, but he had no idea how you could have a Watchful Rest? Maybe it would make them wake up easier at any outside sounds? Or sleep with their eyes open? There were many possibilities¡­ In the end, he selected the climbing one, as he pictured needing to fight spiders which undoubtedly would crawl all over the place and all over everyone. The very thought of which sent shivers up and down his spine. A moment later, the spinning wheel was replaced with a single three-sided-pyramid shaped die rolling and landing¡ªhow would you figure out which of the three visible faces was the right one to look at? And each face had three numbers on it. How would he know which number was correct? His vision zoomed in on the top of the pyramid, where all three faces showed the same number, 2. A moment later, two slim vials full of strangely layered liquid, which had multiple layers of brown and silver appeared in his hand. He only barely didn¡¯t drop them as another box popped up.
Reward: Two (2) Potions of Climbing. These potions grant the imbiber a Climb Speed equal to their Movement Speed for one (1) hour.
Oh. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure why he¡¯d thought such potions would grant permanent boosts, but he passed them and a description of their power over to Cabot. Robert was stuck holding the coinage for some reason, so he should spread stuff around so it didn¡¯t look like he was hoarding. As the day was ending food was being served (after having been purified by a spellcaster). A few men were playing instruments, others were singing, the artistry of both was enhanced by illusions, or shapes swirling in the fires, or food, as men took advantage of their new powers to either show off, or mess with their compatriots. Robert picked up some food for himself and was left alone. He spotted Varrarg lingering and listening and walked over to stand by the goblin. A few words confirmed they did have a meeting place which could be used. She didn¡¯t ask what it would be for. But he continued. ¡°We have been able to make ammunition as well as weapons. Recruitment may be possible, but the question is...recruitment to what?¡¯ She gave him a confused look, ¡°I thought you were called the 54th Massachusetts?¡± Robert frowned slightly. ¡°Indeed, we are. Which meant we were the 54th regiment raised by the state of Massachusetts. But we aren¡¯t in Massachusetts anymore. We¡¯re somewhere new. And there will need to be a new state, a new colony, a new government for us to serve. We have to decide what that is.¡± ¡°Just let us know what you decide.¡± ¡°We is all adult citizens of the state. Whether that includes the Settled Feet is up to you.¡± He frowned slightly to himself...he¡¯d forgotten Varrarg was a woman. They all looked basically the same, with no obvious sexual dimorphism. And Varrarg was clearly in charge of them. Perhaps it was different for goblins? His own mother had been a strong proponent of the Women¡¯s Rights, but she certainly hadn¡¯t been arguing to be treated the same as men and any man who treated her the same as he treated her husband would be brought up short by her tongue for his discourtesy...but the bigger question was how the men would take it...would they treat the goblins as different enough not to allow their own beliefs about the role of women to cause them not to listen, or participate if they did? Did he even know what their beliefs were? Well, in the end, this wasn¡¯t his choice, that was the point. ¡°What are you talking about?¡± she asked, confused. ¡°I propose a community meeting, to decide what we are, and how we organize ourselves. Who should lead and what limits should be placed upon them.¡± ¡°Let us know what you decide,¡± she repeated herself. ¡°The decisions will be made by majority vote. If the Settled Feet wish to participate...they can choose to do so, unless they are voted out by the meeting.¡± She blinked at him. ¡°And how would you ¡®vote¡¯ on that?¡± the implication was clear. ¡°I will not be attending. I will call the meeting, then I and all the officers will withdraw.¡± He¡¯d discussed it with the other officers. They all knew the stories about how politics had interfered with command in both the Mexican-American War and the War to Preserve the Union. The only way to avoid that was to keep them as separate as possible. ¡°We will watch the field for any late arrivals, while the rest of you make these decisions. Our role as soldiers is to carry out the military policy of the state, not to make it and not to command its structure.¡± She turned to face him directly. ¡°What? This translation magic must not be working because that made no sense.¡± ¡°Which part?¡± ¡°All of it. What are you even talking about?¡± ¡°Civilian control of the military?¡± ¡°How could nonwarriors possibly control warriors?¡± she asked, clearly even more confused. ¡°That...was not what I said. I think we are not communicating clearly. Are you familiar with democracy as a concept?¡± ¡°Of course, the family heads voted on things whenever there was a problem for the entire clan.¡± ¡°Okay...that¡¯s not democracy. Let me roll back. Democracy is when every adult¡± male, tax-paying, ¡°citizen has a vote on decisions.¡± ¡°That...does not seem efficient.¡± ¡°Indeed, not, representative democracy is when they vote on individuals to make those decisions. Representative constitutional democracy is when they vote on individuals to make those decisions within the scope of powers and authorities imposed by the constitution. A military dictatorship is when the military rules for itself. In the United States, and I hope whatever is agreed upon here, the expectation is that the military is placed under the control of a civilian elected leader.¡± She blinked, clearly pushed most of his blither aside and honed in on the key point. ¡°But how would they maintain that control? If the warriors disagreed, they could just use force.¡± ¡°The usual means, besides the oath, is to limit the power of the military. A small standing military, with large local militias, who are, after all, voters, means that if the military tried to take over, there would be a check on them. For the moment...that will be difficult, but the obvious step, unless we get many more people, is to let most of the soldiers return to civilian life and perhaps join the militia. But that and the makeup of the militia and army are questions that will need to be sorted out at this assembly. Thomas is something of a student of governmental structures, as well as engineering ones. I¡¯m sure he can provide additional insight.¡± It...hurt to step away from this. He wouldn¡¯t claim to be a great scholar of government, but he had, of course, read the constitution of the United States and of Massachusetts and many of the debates surrounding their construction and amendment. ¡°Then shouldn¡¯t you be there?¡± ¡°My voice would carry too much weight.¡± ¡°And mine wouldn¡¯t?¡± she asked, pushing. ¡°Yours would not come with the implicit threat of violence, no. I will go along with whatever is voted, but you made this point not two days ago.¡± She looked up at him with confusion, ¡°You are...confusing me. You have Trip arrange the killing of one of our Giant Rats, so your strange ¡®boxes¡¯ can feed from the death...which is not an encouraging thing to ask, but then you plan to surrender command. You kill all the Storm Claws, then bury them with prayers for their wellbeing. What do you want?¡± I want to be home. Was what he did not say. ¡°I want to be what I am, a soldier and an officer. I do not want to be a chief, a president, or a dictator.¡± He¡¯d tried his hand at study, at commerce and at philanthropy and he had despised them all. In every field you were at war with your fellows, even if they didn¡¯t acknowledge it. In war, you were only at war with the enemy. Mostly. He couldn¡¯t help remembering the conflicts with the quartermaster back at Camp Meigs and his blackmail of General Harker. Both times he¡¯d tried so hard to make the system work for him and in the end, he¡¯d had to force the issue. And now he desperately wanted that system back...how pathetic. Well, hopefully they¡¯d build a better one this time. She stared at him and he was pretty sure she was just confused. He shrugged. ¡°A word of warning, back home, only men can vote, hold office, or serve in the military. How it works here...will be something you folks figure out.¡± She blinked up at him, ¡°You¡¯re all male?¡± she asked in some confusion. Oh, right, they¡¯d probably made the reverse set of assumptions he had initially¡­ ¡°Yes,¡± he grabbed his food, and then paused. ¡°When our predecessors were first preparing their own government, a great man wrote that. ¡®Ambition must be made to counteract ambition...If men were angels, no government would be necessary. If angels were to govern men, neither external nor internal controls on government would be necessary. In framing a government which is to be administered by men over men, the great difficulty lies in this: you must first enable the government to control the governed; and in the next place oblige it to control itself.¡¯ Good luck.¡± He said, before heading off to his tent to prepare the announcement for next week. Merriman and he tested the Sending Stones (which he really should have done before hand, rather than taking their effectiveness as read) and indeed, they worked. And Simpkins rewarded select men with a beer from the Alchemist¡¯s Jug, which balanced out the usage of Goodberries to feed a good portion of the men. He had Simpkins prepare a team to deal with the bear and collect glowworms tomorrow, using the Sending Stone. He circulated once through the camp, checking on the pickets on the earthworks and the guard post into the Underdark. Music and laughter (and the screams of a grumpy, two headed baby) echoed around the open space and Robert...went to bed to try to catch up on his sleep. Interlude: Captain of the Riverguard The Captain of the Riverguard stared at the river, swirling with the elementals which had been summoned, bargained with and bound to defend the river against the goblinoid threat more than a century ago. Their swirling dance was beautiful, but his eyes did not see it. For though his eyes stared at the river, his mind looked out through the eyes of the blood hawk which flew swiftly north over the open ground which usually was already filling with hobgoblins preparing for the year¡¯s campaign It wasn¡¯t empty of course. There were worgry patrols moving in the same patrol routes as last year, intended to prevent infiltrators from sneaking in and burning supplies, or assassinating commanders. Trying to fight the goblinoids in straight battle could only end badly, especially given they could simply breed five more for every one they killed. Even with a wood elf¡¯s superior ability to reproduce when compared to other elves and their superior martial and magical prowess to the goblinoids, a war of attrition would only end in defeat. Even if they were able to offload most of the dying onto elementals, summoned creatures, or other allies, the goblinoids could simply drown them in bodies and blood. Combined with their brutal, but admittedly effective tactics, they were a threat which could not be underestimated. Especially as their total lack of love for nature in any form meant they had no hesitation about firing entire tracts of the forest, if they could. The whole section the hawk was flying over had been forest once, but now it was the staging area for their next push. Or it usually was. Despite the worgry patrols, there was no massing of troops behind it. He¡¯d been fairly certain that would be the case, despite what some of the other commanders thought, the enemy was not stupid. The only reason they would re-use the same patrol routes twice in a row was because there was nothing behind them to protect. The [Beast Sense] had a strict time limit and even a hawk¡¯s speed would not let it get too far before that expired, but as he watched it continued its trip back to the mountains. It would have been better if it had followed the river more closely, those were the areas he was most familiar with, but thanks to the Riverguard, the goblins rarely bothered trying to send supplies downriver, but they still set up bases near it to draw water. Many times he and his troops had burned those bases, delaying offensives, or executed key personnel to throw things into chaos. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. The hobgoblins had a rigid hierarchy, which reacted quickly to any gap, but not instantaneously. And some people, especially mages, or particularly skilled commanders, couldn¡¯t be replaced so easily. The better target however were the leaders of the packs of goblins, or allied bugbear clans. As those groups would often fight among themselves for leadership and the hobgoblins might well have to kill many of their own men to re-establish dominance. But the key point was timing. If only part of the enemy advanced, that section could be destroyed, because the rest were sorting out their chain of command, and it would take years for their forces to become a threat again. It was not a bad defensive strategy. It usually worked and limited losses. But it was a defensive strategy and there was no complementary offensive strategy. There was no route to victory, except for the promises that eventually the goblinoids would turn on one another. It was just a matter of outlasting their unity. He believed that, but even putting aside the fact that they had changed leaders five times without collapsing into civil war yet, he saw further than the other leaders. Even if that happened, it wouldn¡¯t remove the threat, it would simply be another delay. The threat was the goblinoids control over the mountains between them and the eastern cities and their own disconnection and lack of allies with those peoples of the western coast and islands. And though Southport held to old oaths and did not interfere in the abandoned southern forest, they sent no allies at all. They got some mercenaries and adventurers from the isles and the coast as allies, but no armies marched to their aid. The other elves were either too few, or too distracted to bother and the others within easy march viewed the conflict as a never ending battle between strangers. So be it, they could win on their own, but they had to actually take the fight to the enemy when they were given an opportunity...but the Council of Elders did not see it that way. And in the end, even his rank did not allow him to overrule their wisdom. Varrarg: Preparing The next seven days passed in a blur. Varrarg was used to life moving...slowly. Oh, there were always games and the occasional crisis, but usually things happened slowly. Quietly. Subtly. The giants had been an exception to that, as were the orcs and now the humans. But the first two had been sudden changes, which then settled into a new period of, well, slowness. Not a good slowness, but with the giants there was nothing to do, with the orcs they just had to do what they were told and try to stay out of the way. The humans were more...troublesome. Not in a violent way, but their actions were firing everyone up. Yes, the other family elders, but not just them, Merrik desperately wanted to join them and had taken the news of the meeting as an opportunity to get his way. Of course, he couldn¡¯t speak their language, nor could most. Only five on the human side and four on their side could and two on the human side were officers and so would be missing. It would make discussion hard. So Merrik had decided to throw himself into learning their language and teaching them the true tongue. He hadn¡¯t made much progress in a mere seven days. But he had managed to get the oldest of the would-have-been Nonoses onboard, and then started getting a few humans who could decipher the symbols they wrote on various things to come start teaching them and the other children how to do that. And she didn¡¯t have any just complaint. The children were raised together and taught together and could invite others to teach, that was well within their rights. The only things that couldn¡¯t be shared were family rites, history and secrets and work rites, history and secrets and those were only taught when they reached their majority (and almost always aligned, it was the rare goblin who would teach their secrets to someone who was not a relative). Until then, they were meant to try everything and learn what they were good at, so they could be of use to the clan. Of course, some idealists also thought it was meant to tie the clan together by having them grow up with each other. That didn¡¯t work, in her view, nothing bred rivalry more tightly than growing up with someone. But it was tradition. They also wanted to learn human magic, but it didn¡¯t seem to be working, thank the Ancestors. The last thing she needed was a bunch of kids running around with magic. Though, she wouldn¡¯t have minded more, or any, goblin spellcasters. There were rumors that one of the ancestors had been one, but there were none now. Then they tried to learn about the human religion, especially once they learned that it included one day with (almost) no working, but rather religious stuff. That was...a bigger problem, as many of the older goblins did not care for it. She doubted they¡¯d be able to significantly participate in either the human faith, or their magic, or their army...but if she tried to block them, she¡¯d be making trouble for herself with them. If she didn¡¯t, she¡¯d have trouble with the other elders. But that was just what was happening inside the clan. The bigger issue was what was happening with the humans. They¡¯d long since finished their ditch and earthen walls, though they had also (after ¡®requesting permission¡¯ used their magics to haul masses of dirt to the top of the goblins¡¯ home and begun the work of constructing a ¡®watchtower,¡¯ though they reportedly were holding off bringing any wood to the top until they could more easily shape it, then there was a great deal of debate about whether they could make a ¡®crane¡¯ to pull things to the top, or not, with some issue about ropes which she didn¡¯t entirely understand. But regardless, they were cutting down trees with great enthusiasm all along their future ¡®road¡¯ and pulling them within the walls, and then, strangely chopping off the branches and burying them, and then had one of their mages light them on fire. Humans were quite bizarre creatures. Though, also somewhat terrifying. Watching forty men go out into those terrifying woods and return carrying a live tree, plucked from the ground by their magic and might and replant it in their absurd outdoor farm was...intimidating. She didn¡¯t understand why they bothered, but apparently the tree gave some fruit they wanted. Which was at least an explanation for why they weren¡¯t chopping it down the way they did so many other trees. Most of the wood they hadn¡¯t buried and set on fire, that was being worked, was being shaped into some sort of wheel and they now had two people magically creating pieces for it, or more weapons or ammunition. One was the man who¡¯d killed the rat for the feast she¡¯d thrown announcing the upcoming meeting with the humans and emphasizing the need for goblins to stick together (after the human who¡¯d ¡®purified¡¯ the meal left, she wasn¡¯t sure about that, to be honest, but they¡¯d watched and it was the same things the humans were doing over their own food, so it wasn¡¯t likely to be harmful). Whatever strange experiment they were doing had worked and so they¡¯d requested to kill all the rats going forward, which she had agreed to easily enough (after an unfortunate misunderstanding where she¡¯d thought they were asking to kill all her rats right now as opposed to simply being the people who killed rats when it was decided that was needed). Merrik was more fascinated by the practice of their warriors. They couldn¡¯t all practice at once, but each group practiced marching, moving in formations and several men were practicing with strange metal horns, though they only played very short tunes, unlike the more elaborate ones they played on other instruments as part of their evening meals and celebrations, which took place immediately after they gathered and lowered their strange banners and put them away. Their training was very strange and different from the sparring done by the orcs, or the elaborate posturing the Nonoses had engaged in when they had claimed they were becoming warriors. No one moved anywhere alone and the only individual practice was practice with their short spears and that only very simple repeat drill of a single stabbing attack. They had sent out hunting parties as well every day and a few days ago had gone after a ¡®bear¡¯ some sort of forest monster. They¡¯d returned, with several people still injured when it turned out not to be a ¡®bear¡¯ but some sort of strange monster they were unfamiliar with. They kept calling it a combination of an owl and a bear. But since neither of those words meant anything to her, she¡¯d taken a look when they¡¯d dragged it back into camp and been...even more concerned about Merrik joining their ranks, even if their wounds were magically healed. She felt less bad as she watched men going back and forth to the cave, retrieving mountains of rotting meat and dung which were added to their fields and the strange separate place their urine ran to. If Merrik wanted to do that, more power to the boy, she doubted her stomach was strong enough for it these days, she had a hard enough time with the goblin and rat manure they used on the rats and mushrooms. But he was more interested in the strange, mostly wooden, one wheeled containers which they used to move the stuff through the forest. Apparently he thought it a lot better than either the earthenware pots, or the carved stone pulls that they used for transportation in the walls (though he of course was not foolish enough to believe it superior to the many slides and drops their ancestors had engineered. Admittedly, despite the disgusting lair it apparently lived in, the meat had been tasty. Much of it had gone to the Notchears in trade for their salt to preserve the rest and they¡¯d thrown a much fancier feast than hers, agreeing that goblins needed to stick together. Just behind them, not her. They were a lot less pushy than she¡¯d expected, probably because when they pushed too hard, people muttered that the only reason that they even had a chance was because she¡¯d given them a gift of the magical communication. The humans weren¡¯t as thrifty as she would have liked, but that had its own advantages, though they asked for aid in tanning the bear¡¯s fur to keep it soft, that proved beyond the goblin tanners, but they had the supplies that the humans needed and so they exchanged knowledge for supplies. The tanners were excited about it, but personally, the giant rats were so dirty she thought there was little benefit to keeping their fur on the hide. More usefully however was their minimal interest in the bones of the bear, or indeed, most of the other animals they killed. They spoke of bone soup as a last resort, but had no interest in the bones as building or carving materials, which meant they were perfectly willing to pass them over in exchange for nothing more than the ash from the smith¡¯s fires. A good deal for everyone, in the long run, even if they were oversupplied with everything at the moment, as the orcs hadn¡¯t bothered to loot more than their weapons and altar stone. Games broke, so did musical instruments and decorations and all the other niceties of life which were better made of bone than clay. She was not the only one politicking, nor were the goblins the only ones doing so. As soon as the announcement was made, the humans began speaking at great length about it. With some annoyance, she managed to convince Kirrik Oneeye, as a neutral party who understood, to go down and listen to what was being being said. It was more of the sort of nonsense that the Colonel had spoken. Mostly, but a few things were being said clearly, in a way which made his strange speech snap into place a bit more. None of those strange references to ¡®perfect celestial beings¡¯ whatever such things were, if they were even possible. No, the point that was made was that the goal of whatever they did had to be to align people¡¯s selfishness, greed and fear (they also mentioned pride, but she ignored that) with the goals of their society. The obvious way to do that was give people something to defend. The Colonel had already started them down that path with his reference to homesteads, but there was a major fracture within the humans. One group wanted to stay and build something here, but the other, lead, to her annoyance and disappointment, by Trip, wanted to leave and go try to find other humans. There was a lot of strange human lust and faith questions bound up in it, but that seemed to be the big fault line. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. She was uncertain who would win, but perhaps they could shape the victory. The humans leaving would...not be good, even if it would remove their threat...perhaps she was over-focused on the last year. She¡¯d made it her entire life without any outside threat impinging within the walls, until this last year. But it had happened twice in that year¡ªthree times, if you counted the humans. They needed to be stronger, to be able to defend themselves and...fuck, was Merrik right? Well, even if someone had to do it, that didn¡¯t mean it had to be her grandson! There was some distraction caused by the strange appearance the following morning of a second giant beast that the Colonel simply...made appear, this one apparently a ¡®mare¡¯ that is a female ¡®horse¡¯ which was...another big beast to pull stuff? Then Rawlins and the other man had to make ¡®harness and saddle¡¯ for the beasts, which was apparently a bunch of connectors to allow them to haul stuff, or carry people. That helped them pull the felled trees around, towards the massive hole near the river that the one with the strange facial jewelry had made and where their ¡®mill¡¯ was going to go. Besides the massive hole they¡¯d made for the ¡®pond,¡¯ and channel they¡¯d dug down a square area, then spent a full day smashing heavy things into the ground, before bringing in massive amounts of sand, spreading it everywhere, then smaller stones, then the larger stones they¡¯d salvaged from the cavern and finally they were spreading sand over the stones again, filling the gaps. There was no actual building yet, but besides their flat area they had their giant wheel mostly made and they had dozens of cleared logs ¡®drying¡¯ as they lay near magical fires. They¡¯d also assisted with the work in the lower caverns, as they kept ten men down there at all times, but thanks to their strange, always burning, never smoking torch, and some sort of magical warnings, they only kept two actually watching. The rest were eager to help put things to rights and tend the mushrooms. Which was good, as besides the losses to the Breaklegs, the losses to her worker families had been significant. Indeed, the Settled Feet had shrunk to a quarter of the size they had been before the twin disasters of the monsters and the orcs had descended upon them. The strange green woman they¡¯d found, who looked almost like an orcish female, but with very different features, visited the town beneath several times and each time gathered a group of the soldiers, dancing with one or two, which almost started a fight, every time, until an officer stopped them. The hunting and gathering parties went out frequently, though only one group at a time. The only thing of interest to her besides the strange sun-loving plants they were gathering to try to grow were the recent return of a hunting party with a number of small, pink squealing beasts, that looked almost like too-large baby Giant Rats, but had been proclaimed to be ¡®piglets¡¯ as apparently the hunters had been confronted by its angry parents and killed them, while the green lady showed them something. She¡¯d also shown them the ¡®piglets¡¯ though there¡¯d been some concern among the humans about her expectation that they¡¯d kill and eat them all. At any rate, they now had a pen for them. And besides all that, the soldiers had started working together on building their own huts. But these were clearly intended to be larger than the ones atop the walls and it sounded like they were planning to build one for each and every soldier, which was an absurd extravagance. Admittedly, there was a great deal of open space within the walls of the Settled Feet these days, but that was due to casualties. Usually, and soon, they would be full again...unless they spilled out of the walls. They¡¯d always limited their numbers in the past, but perhaps¡­ She cut off the thought, as sharply as she cut off the thoughts that hearing howling from the woods had given a young Varrarg. Besides internal politicking, her only real success had been convincing the Colonel to also prioritize a gate for the exit to the Deep Dark. They clearly needed all the stone they could get and that from the original excavations within the walls had either been thrown away, or used for the huts atop the walls and neither helped the humans. But they had wood in abundance. It wasn¡¯t as good as rock, as it didn¡¯t look natural, but if two ¡®gates¡¯ were installed, then they¡¯d have warning of any approach and the ability to shut out any threat long enough to run, or muster to fight. She¡¯d gotten the idea when she asked about the moveable walls that were being made around each end of the giant hole they¡¯d made near their ¡®mill¡¯. Those were going to be gates to allow water in and out. She¡¯d been so proud of the idea, but hadn¡¯t been certain how to move the gates, as those were intended to rise into the air, which in this case would send them into the stone ceiling only for Thomas to look at her like she was an idiot and explain the concept of ¡®hinges¡¯ to her¡­ That had been embarrassing. There was no reason for her to know that, there were no ¡®doors¡¯ within the walls. Though the tanners had a large boulder they rolled into place to block off their tanning cave, but again, no hinges. The door wasn¡¯t complete, but it was done enough to be jammed into place and watched by a handful of men who volunteered because they did not want to participate in politics. Ironically, that gave them a great deal of privacy as every goblin adult was topside. For the goblins, historically privacy was achieved by going to one of the huts above, or finding an area without goblins, or trusting in the rat leather hangings which would muffle sound and block sight...which reminded her of the other things she¡¯d used in her politicking. Cabot Forbes had brought two strange pieces of paper to her. One had meant nothing, besides its base content, which was something about rat leather, but the second, when she touched it, the information shifted from just a simple list of ingredients to a full set of instructions for rat stew. Some of the ingredients were things she hadn¡¯t heard of, but asking Cabot about that and he was able to produce most of it and when she tried to make the recipe, it was...bizarre. Holding the paper, she knew how to do every step of it. She was a good cook, but this was not how that worked and as she held it, her hands began to move, easily shaping the various mushrooms from inside and plants from the outside into the feast pot (they only had enough metal for one and it was shared between the families). When she finished the ¡®stew¡¯ and tasted it she was quite impressed and shared the recipe with the other cooks, which got some interest, especially when she let them try some of it and they were able to see both how good it tasted and that it could simply sit in the pot, as it was good both warm and cool. More critically for her politicking however was sharing the other recipe with the tanners. No one had any interest in ¡®rat leather armor¡¯ but the tanning method was different than that they used in the tanning cave (she knew little about it except that it must somehow have to do with severe cold, as one poor apprentice had actually frozen to death in there). They tried it on the first batch and it produced leather so soft and flexible it could be used for far more things than just barriers, containers and full blankets for bad weather. By the time of the meeting, both the senior tanners wore elaborate cloaks and the other goblins were bidding on such for themselves. She was the only non-tanner to have one, though she wore it carefully, to expose the elaborate painted patterns on her skin. Those were worn rarely, as the same mushrooms which made the dye for them could also be eaten and so putting them on was a very showy display, usually only done on Commemoration Day, or some other major marker in a goblin¡¯s life. Few others put their own on as well, Lornig, most obviously, but not only her rival, though for most it was clearly not about politics, it was about showing off for another goblin as various people sought to convince goblins who¡¯d lost their partners to choose new ones. But as almost every adult goblin began to stream to the top of the walls, Varrarg looked at the swarm. They were outnumbered by the humans, but there were dozens of them. And many, many more were still children, or sequestered while pregnant, as was tradition (usually this was only a few, as given the number of children each pregnancy resulted in and their limited space, they had to limit how many bred at any one time, but after the disaster below and the massacre of the Nonoses, anyone could breed and it got you out of having to deal with the orcs, so many had, even the orcs had allowed the pregnant women to go below and children to remain below, though more because they didn¡¯t have any use for either than out of any sensible greed for more slaves). The only child allowed was the would-have-been Nonose, who was with her son, Merrik, to act as a translator. The Colonel and the other officers were there, despite what he¡¯d said. But as the last people trickled in, he spoke, quietly. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen, I and the rest of the officers will withdraw at this point. We leave the question of what form of government and who should lead it, in your hands. Send us a messenger when you¡¯re done. To be clear, I have spoke to all the officers, and we have agreed, we will not seek, nor will we accept, any civilian position, so long as we are officers in the military. The one thing I ask of you, as a personal favor, because changing the name of a regiment is bad luck, is that whatever we do, takes on the name, New Massachusetts. Thank you, we leave you to your business.¡± He waved his hand slightly and all of the officers moved out, leaving a group of more than a hundred and fifty people waiting for someone to take charge. Varrarg smiled to herself. This was going to be...interesting. Then she froze. Did she actually want this? Even if she managed to win somehow...none of this was magic. Not based on what the Colonel had said. Which meant she wouldn¡¯t really be in control, not so long as they were outnumbered, with no real weapons. But, they couldn¡¯t turn on her without revealing themselves to be liars. Was that protection, or the point? She didn¡¯t believe them. Was she trying to prove herself right? Well...if you didn¡¯t have strength, you had to have relationships. It was relationships which had meant she ascended to leadership of the Breakleg family and which had been on the verge of letting her bring the Nonoses into line. That could be overwhelmed by force, but now due to her connections to the humans, despite her family being reduced to two adults, everyone still treated her well and due to her gifts to the other families, even her rivals didn¡¯t insult her¡­ There was no safety in anonymity, or hiding, not with humans within the walls, so she had to roll the dice that she could take the role and make it real before she annoyed them so much they turned upon her. If nothing else, the fact that they were all male meant that she only needed to manage this for a single generation, then the clan would inherit their homes, their knowledge and their weapons. Given that...really, all she had to do was keep them happy and here and the Settled Feet would be destined for safety, security and expansion. And if not, well, their beliefs and reputation made it unlikely they¡¯d attack unless she pushed them, which meant she could try, if nothing else, she might be able to get concessions, or bribes from whichever human ended up winning... Yes, the path forward was clear. She just had to take it. Interlude: Kalang Baron Kalang swam through his village. It was...not good. He had proven himself in combat against Baron Puana, but the other sahuagin had not gone down easily and had force Kalang to turn to general combat to prove his superiority. That had left the village weakened, then Prince Key¡¯sa had called upon his services and those of his hunters and warriors against an incursion by triton filth. In their absence, the women had been left to run things and the weak had been allowed to breed and most of the outer fishing areas had been lost to the merpeople. And now it was time for one of his village¡¯s duties to the Low King. The patrol up into the freshwater of the river to make sure no new threat had appeared and discover whether there were any new settlements of land-folk suitable to be raided was an unpleasant formality. Occasionally they caught some merpeople, and once even an aquatic elf spy, but to get to anyplace inhabited by any people worth killing and anything worth taking you had to go so far that sahuagin breed in the depths of the salty ocean would truly suffer. And fighting orcs was dangerous and unproductive. They couldn¡¯t be made slaves, as they just drowned, they were hard to make sacrifices, as they fought to the death, unless stopped and they had nothing worth taking. Even worse, they were almost impossible to take by surprise, which made standard raiding tactics less than effective. They weren¡¯t as bad as elves whose constant disgraceful use of magic only made it clear that the longstanding blood feud between their peoples was obviously correct. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. He had to send scouts up the river, unless he was willing to challenge the king. The question was, how few could he get away with sending and which ones? With proper braggadocio, he thought he could get away with 4, as surely no one in such a poor water would dare to challenge their great kingdom or warriors. As for who to send, he basically had three options, he could send one of his handful of competent subordinates who still survived. That was what the king would want. It would also make his life immeasurably harder. Second, he could send one of his more cowardly subordinates, who he¡¯d meant to punish for being notably slow to respond to his orders during the dispute with Puana. Kalang was not afraid of what might be found, but if anything was, he¡¯d have to deal with it and his forces were not as prepared as he might like at this point. The cautious could be relied upon to not go any further than they absolutely had to...but they¡¯d also run back the moment they spotted any trouble. No, the better course of action was to send a handful of aggressive warriors who would just keep pushing forward until they reached the water elementals and got a bloody nose, or ran into actual trouble and tried to solve it. If they didn¡¯t come back, no real loss and if they did come back with a problem, it would be a real one, not ¡®I spotted something on the shore and swam all the way back here.¡¯ And maybe it would even mature some of that mindless aggression out of them. Aggression was good, mindlessness wasn¡¯t, even in a man. Robert: Guard Duty The past week had been exhausting. It had had many successes, including a few more level ups, gaining a second Cleric, and a Fighter (though it had used up the two EXP boxes he¡¯d had before the death of the deformed bear, ¡®Snapper¡¯ brought 5 more) who had gained a truly bizarre ability, to accelerate themselves so fast, they could load and fire a gun twice in only six seconds, though only once per ¡®short rest¡¯ or ¡®long rest¡¯. Loading and firing once every six seconds was already absurd, to be able to do so twice in that time was insane. He was already considering creating a special group made up of Fighters to unleash a truly devastating initial salvo. But...making assignments based on class felt like a slippery slope. Indeed, there had been a long discussion about who to assign as company Chaplain, and whether it was appropriate to select a non ¡®Cleric.¡¯ In the end, they had all agreed that Private Watson was a godly man, who knew his bible, even if he was not the most learned in theology, he had been a preacher before enlisting and the men respected him. That was enough (though it made his Catholic leaning heart squirm to say it). So what if his ¡®Class¡¯ was Commoner? They would not make decisions based on such things. But how firmly could that hold as the leveled gained more and more abilities which suited them to the role they were cast in? He had a similar feeling about assigning men to kill the giant rats for EXP and sending a squad to kill the bear, which had proven to be some strange mutant thing that had nearly taken a man¡¯s arm off. Would he have risked men for glowworms and the mobile light spell they could power, without the quest reward dangling in front of him? He had learned from it, one of the question marks on the spinning wheel of rewards allowed you to spin twice and select one. Again, he¡¯d selected retainers rather than some sort of magical wand. The mare he¡¯d gotten was useful...but he wished he¡¯d been smart enough to decline, let it lower the reward and see if he could get chickens, or pigs, or something else. With his luck, he¡¯d probably have gotten pigs mere moments before the hunting party returned with the piglets. They clearly weren¡¯t domesticated, but he hoped the animal experts would be able to make use of them regardless, especially if he could get a domesticated pig through the quest rewards to add some calm to their bloodline. The five EXP boxes they¡¯d won had all been for killing the bear, just like the last set came from killing the Storm Claws. Given they got EXP when they killed things, there was an obvious and uncomfortable inference to be drawn. He was holding onto those boxes for the moment, until their next combat operation was decided upon. Perhaps that was a mistake, he could level up another cleric, or try a druid or wizard...but since he really wanted to level himself up, he was concerned his judgment might be compromised in this matter. He wasn¡¯t the only Paladin. There were two of them in total, just as there were two Rangers, If he was going purely by numbers, the next ought to have been a Commoner, as they were the most frequent...but he feared that the name perhaps did not suggest a lot of gain upon leveling, especially given the paucity, or rather, complete absence of additional features beyond the base species and background ones they all possessed. The next most frequent were Fighters, but he already had one of those leveled, then Clerics, two of those leveled, then Wizards. Wizards next was the obvious solution, especially given the benefits they¡¯d gained from the other spellcaster. But it would depend on deployment and the next need. The other concern was that as word spread about EXP and the benefits of ¡®leveling up,¡¯ men were starting to push for more combat, for rat-slaughter duty, for other opportunities to earn EXP and advance. Given his own curiosity and desires, he could not blame them for that, but the dangers of it were obvious. It wasn¡¯t as bad as the squabbles over Miss Silene, as earning EXP mostly included some danger, as the business with the bear and orcs had made clear, whereas almost none of them saw any danger in attempting to court Miss Silene. Fortunately, the NCOs and other officers were keeping that in hand, with hard drill and lots of work, though if they didn¡¯t find more women and she didn¡¯t choose someone, there was going to be trouble, eventually. As he thought, he kept an eye out for her, as the new path to the field (not quite complete, but quit a lot of progress) led directly past her tree. He also kept his eyes open for any trouble. There were five of them (as Rawlins had chosen to remain with his babies, who were growing shockingly fast and consuming a terrifying amount of meat) and they were all armed. And he had the Sending Stone, the other was with Sergeant Wilson, in case something happened. But still, men usually went about in squad sized groups outside the walls, just to be safe, as though many animals seemed the same, every time they started to think they understood everything that was going on they ran into something like the strange beaked bear and were reminded that this was another world. Despite his best efforts, he didn¡¯t see her before she literally stepped out of a tree and startled all five of them, though he was the only one to actually draw his revolver, before he realized who it was. Her repeated trips to town, limited only by the length of her [Tongues] spell, had somehow not dulled her enthusiasm and she was talking about starting to show up at other times to try to learn English. ¡°Hello, hello, hello, Colonel! What are you doing out here with so few people?¡± To Robert that sounded menacing, but the other officers clearly did not see it that way. ¡°We¡¯re taking over the watch on the field, while the others are deciding our governmental structure and leadership.¡± ¡°Oh! That sounds like fun!¡± he wasn¡¯t sure which she meant, until she took off at a sprint down the path towards the town. Well...oops. Hopefully she wouldn¡¯t have too much influence over the others. He wondered what influence she would have...especially on the question of the involvement of women. No one was likely to want to kick her out. Well, regardless, the others frowned at him, clearly annoyed that it was his words that had sent the pretty woman away. He ignored them as they continued on. They chatted idly about what must be happening back there. Russel and Simpkins argued quite a bit about the whole business of women being involved in the discussion, with Simpkins viewing politics as a sordid affair which would undoubtedly sully them. Or sully Miss Silene, anyway, his concern about goblins was¡­low. Russel took the contrary view, no doubt echoing what his own female relatives had told him as a young man, arguing that you couldn¡¯t shield someone from politics without shielding them from public life. Which Simpkins was happy to concede, arguing forcefully that a woman¡¯s place was in the home. Russel hadn¡¯t expected an actual defense of that position, so spluttered for a moment. Merriman didn¡¯t say much on the topic, clearly nervous and Cabot cut in gently to disarm the disagreement before it could become angry. ¡°What do you think, Lieutenant?¡± Robert asked, curiously. It wasn¡¯t a topic which had come up with any of the enlisted men before, though he knew generally where his officers stood on the matter. Most, even those still living would be reasonably in favor of women¡¯s participation, if only because of their strong role in the anti-slavery movement, which all of the officers who¡¯d been selected for the 54th were firm proponents of. Indeed, many of the officers had relatives in the Women¡¯s Loyal National League, and though the organization was focused on abolitionism, it did not hide its push for women¡¯s rights. ¡°Don¡¯t know that we¡¯ve got enough people that it makes sense to try to keep anyone home, sir,¡± Merriman said after a moment, drawing a clap on the back from Russel and a frown from Simpkins, who then smirked at the other man. ¡°Oh? Want Miss Silene running around with the entire army, if she says yes to you, do you?¡± the mockery was unkind and unfair, as both men were trying to court her, as were the unmarried (and a few of the married) men in the regiment. Cabot cut in again, ¡°What do you think, Colonel?¡± the misdirection was quick, but not unfair given Robert had tossed Merriman into it. ¡°My sympathies are with the movement for women¡¯s rights, by nature and experience¡­¡± Russel puffed up slightly, as did Merriman. ¡°But, the business with the Storm Claws...war is an ugly enough business, without adding women to the battlefield.¡± ¡°No one¡¯s proposing that!¡± Russel hurried to state. ¡°On what principled difference will you draw that line, Captain?¡± Robert asked. ¡°If a citizen, then the rights and obligations of defending the state fall on you, or else you will be despised as a coward by all those who fulfill their duties.¡± ¡°A woman cannot be expected to¡ª¡± Simpkins began. ¡°A woman cannot¡ª¡± Russel began at the same time. Merriman stood their considering, the argument was not precisely that which had brought him and the rest to the 54th, but he remembered the note from Senator Sumner that he¡¯d seen on recruiting posters, and muttered quietly, ¡°Do your duty to our country, and you will set an example of generous self-sacrifice which will conquer prejudice and open hearts.¡± Both Captains turned to look at him and he flinched, despite himself, but the Colonel nodded slightly. ¡°But surely women couldn¡¯t endure the sort of training that the men were put through,¡± Simpkins argued. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t, I would say, sir! Treating a woman in that fashion, I¡¯d have any man who did it thrown out of the army!¡± Russel snapped. ¡°This won¡¯t be our decision,¡± Cabot said, then smiled, a smile Robert knew all too well, ¡°but there¡¯s always Deborah Samson.¡± ¡°A unique personage, no doubt, sir,¡± Simpkins argued, ¡°but there is a reason she was discharged from the army when her deception was discovered.¡± ¡°Honorably. And granted full pension, eventually,¡± Cabot pointed out. ¡°And yet, discharged. Do we know better than the founders of our Union?¡± There was a moment of silence and all eyes skittered towards, than away from Merriman, before Robert spoke up, ¡°It would be our failing if we did not, having had almost a hundred years of advancement since their time.¡± Everyone took the out and Cabot swiftly changed the subject to what sports they should support being set up. The men wanted boxing, but usually there was concern about the injuries that might cause. With magical healing it was less a problem, but Robert viewed it as distasteful for soldiers, especially boxing one another. Between regiments was possible, with enemies was possible, but within the regiment it seemed like to encourage gambling and dissension. Wrestling he was less concerned with, but the men were less interested in, as it lacked the bloody spectacle of fisticuffs. Horse racing was obviously out and though footraces were a fine idea, they would keep the men fit and encourage healthy competition, not enmity, the men were not particularly interested, taking the view that they marched and ran plenty as it was. Cards and dice were the classical entertainment and he had no doubt the men were already making use of the gambling devices, but Robert had no expectation of actually being able to prevent that and frankly, if it distracted them from their circumstances, so be it. It wasn¡¯t like gambling could ruin a man when there was nothing to gamble for. And their current circumstances were such that gambling debts were not likely to have the deleterious effect on unit morale they might otherwise have. Which left the two team games, the kings of American sport (if you didn¡¯t count horse racing, or boxing, which he didn¡¯t as both were more spectacle and gambling object than sport, in his view) cricket and baseball. Both were competitive, yes, but hopefully not in a damaging way and were team games rather than individual ones. The question was, which? They admittedly had a lot of space, but they didn¡¯t have enough people, or equipment for both. That debate went on for quite a while, but was significantly less vitriolic than the other and Robert had no strong opinion. Well, he had one strong opinion, anything was better than the entertainment the men had figured out for themselves, with the spellcasters who lacked healing spells and so were free to use their spells at will. Not the use of [Silent Image] for truly elaborate (if time limited, given the 10 minute duration) plays (with Uncle Tom¡¯s Cabin not resonating at all with the goblin viewers, though an alternate version where Tom slits Simon Legree¡¯s throat in the night, escaping with Cassy and Emmeline was rather more warmly received, even if Robert rather thought it spoiled the sentimental Christ allegory that Mrs. Stowe had been writing). No, his concern was about the practice of ¡®proving¡¯ their manhood by leaping from the top of the mesa and using [Feather Fall] to slow their descent to a safe landing. He supposed he should be glad they¡¯d tested the distance and spell by flinging one of the piglets (a mostly natural barrow, so there was no loss of breeding potential if anything went wrong) from the top and casting the spell as it squealed its way down. Fortunately, Chaplain Watson had lectured them on the unChristian cruelty of that act before he had to get involved and the spell was effective. Personally, Robert thought it reckless and foolish, but it seemed to build esprit de corps and many of men found the closeness to flying to be inspiring, or pleasant. Poor Trip though, the man was clearly scared of heights, but had been easily bullied into going up. Terrified of heights he may have been, but he was even more terrified of looking afraid. They leapt in groups of eight-to-ten, as that was how many the spell could slow to safe descents, but Trip had been unwilling to wait, racing ahead and bellowing as if to force the fear from his path and deny himself any chance to turn away, leaping so far he ended up falling into the pit which would soon be filled with water to act as a mill pond, he¡¯d had to be pulled out. The men had thumped him heartily on the back, celebrating his courage and triumph over his natural caution. Indeed, their celebrations had grown so noisesome it had drawn Robert¡¯s attention, which was how he had learned of this little practice, to his frustration, especially as several of his officers had already allowed themselves to be bullied into it (and Cabot had been one of the first to jump, after a scout on patrol with him had leapt from a treetop and cast [Feather Fall] on himself rather than climb down). It wasn¡¯t so bad that they be close to the lower officers, or for them to participate in the rituals and traditions of a regiment. Every regiment Robert had been in had either had its own traditions, or created them almost instantly, but this wasn¡¯t exactly one he was thrilled to see spread, especially by his own officers...but he had no desire to participate himself, which he probably would have to do at some point. An officer who didn¡¯t lead from the front didn¡¯t lead, he¡¯d learned that from his first commander and this was part of it, unfortunately. Oh, well, at least he wasn¡¯t afraid of heights. Was he jealous of Cabot¡¯s popularity? Even with the decision to somewhat relax the distance from the men, he lacked Cabot¡¯s easy manner and could never forget that he led the men. And had led them to their death. The fact that none had overthrown him, or replaced him, did not reduce that fact and he dared not let them too close, lest his fears be revealed. But, Robert didn¡¯t distract the other officers with his musing, or annoyance. Their conversation shifted to a debate of various players and teams, which Robert again had little interest in. They¡¯d set up in the field and were keeping a general watch on the area by the time that conversation died and they went looking for another topic. Again, less vitriolic, they were trying to guess what format the government would end up taking. A few copies of the U.S. and Massachusetts Constitutions had come through (as well as a heavily defaced version of the Rebel Constitution) and the obvious answer was to copy one of those, with some modifications. But as everyone acknowledged, having such an elaborate government when there were less than two hundred people involved was insane. Cabot argued they¡¯d probably make a town meeting act as an assembly, while electing a small town council to deal with matters between meetings and a judge to run any legal issues. That seemed likeliest to Robert as well, but there was a lot of discussion about contingencies. Wouldn¡¯t it be best to sort out what happened if they did grow significantly? After all, they¡¯d already had many more visitors than the goblins were used to and their village was much larger (physically) and more visible than the goblins hidden hideaway. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Personally, that sounded like unwarranted optimism to Robert. An attempt to bridge the growing divide he¡¯d created in the men by opening up the question of politics and path forward to more than just himself and the other officers. It was no surprise that many of the men wanted to strike out in search of other humans (or dryads), or simply for larger civilization, where they would not be trying to create everything themselves, from scratch. He didn¡¯t precisely agree with Wilson that given the circumstances, this was clearly holy ground and they should build their ¡®city on the hill¡¯ here, but certainly it was the best place they¡¯d seen so far for a settlement and base of operations. Striking out randomly up or downriver seemed foolish to Robert, though he admitted they needed more people (and yes, especially women), but his preference would be to take the year to fully establish the settlement, then they could properly outfit either a small vessel or expedition to properly scout the region, looking for people. Especially given how swiftly they could be strengthened by basic combat, and some of the monsters Miss Silene and the goblins had referenced, he wanted any such expedition to have clear lines of retreat and be composed of strong men as leveled up as he could get them. Admittedly, he was a married man, and did not view his oaths as having been broken by his ¡®death¡¯ and therefore was less interested than many of the men in the near total absence of women. They too up position in the center of the field, where the men had already dug a fire pit (or had Thomas or one of the other spellcasters do it). Firewood lay by it, making things easy enough. The men on guard duty had fortified the place a bit, but just a ditch and earthworks around the perimeter, with one flat area, leading to the path out. It wasn¡¯t perfect, even wolves could have cleared the ditch and wall relatively quickly, but it would slow down any advance and give them time to respond, as well as a somewhat elevated position as they circulated around the perimeter. The conversation ran through many light subjects, including the attempts by poor Privates Campbell and Brooks to learn the bugle calls (3 gold pieces each) as none of their buglers had come through and both had some experience with musicians, through to the annoying discovery that field glasses and spyglasses both cost over 100gp, so Rawlins couldn¡¯t make them, which prompted many questions about how the things were being valued, given you could get a pistol, rifle and 30 rounds of ammunition for that! However the boxes valued things, it was very odd. But the conversation had somehow turned to beards. Or lack thereof. Cabot¡¯s mustache was praised for its restrained dignity. Robert¡¯s own beard comes in for some debate as to whether it is an Imperial or a Handlebar and Chin Puff. There are a few questions regarding why he went with that style and he smirked slightly at Cabot, ¡°Proves I can grow a beard, while still being restrained enough to indicate virtuous self-discipline.¡± Cabot sneered at his old friend, ¡°I can grow a beard!¡± ¡°I know, I¡¯ve seen it, comes in like alternately planted acres, patches here and there and bare ground in between.¡± Cabot shook his head furiously at the chuckles of the other officers. The two captains looked too young to Robert¡¯s admittedly somewhat jaded eye to manage more than peach fuzz, though he knew they shaved religiously, in his view probably seeking to conceal that fact. Merriman was older, older even than him and Cabot, at least thirty years, and had a neatly trimmed beard, grown long enough he could use scissors rather than the razor that Robert himself used for most of his face. Though at least he actually had to use it, lest a full beard start to erupt these days. The rest of the day went on like that, talking of everything and nothing as they waited for the decisions to be made without them. They circulated, built a fire and had some lunch, warmed over the fire, bear meat and mushrooms and some foraged roots. It was funny, the usual problem was insufficient meat, or meat gone bad, but now it was bread and grain they lacked, though as they talked Merriman mentioned that Miss Silene said there was wild rice growing in ponds and the marshlands to the north where the river spread out, but she¡¯d only heard about it from others, as it was too far to get there and back in a day and besides the forces that usually occupied this field, he was not eager for longer expeditions which would take portions of his tiny force out of immediate ability to support one another. Robert, despite theoretically (and actually) being on watch, found himself surprisingly relaxed, in a way he hadn¡¯t been since he¡¯d taken over the 54th. It wasn¡¯t just the limited command, or being only among other officers, a Colonel needed to keep a little distance even there. Nor was it the lack of outside eyes measuring him and the men. They weren¡¯t on parade, but it wasn¡¯t that. No, this wasn¡¯t a relaxing of the tension he¡¯d grown used to in his time commanding the 54th that had never really gone away. Even here, the eyes were just watching for something else, not for the failures that they expected of negroes, but instead they were watching for the brutality they expected of conquerers. But it wasn¡¯t the absence of eyes, or expectations that relaxed him. No, it was the certainty that he could actually do this. He knew how to command a patrol and keep watch. He knew how to lead four other men. Leading a thousand. Building a town. Creating a government. These were not things he knew and he feared they were things he was messing up. Oh, the 54th had been as fine a regiment as he¡¯d ever seen, or served with, but he knew his assault had failed. What he didn¡¯t know was what consequence that would have. They had tried as bravely as the 2nd Massachusetts at Antietam, or any other regiment in the war. But as Tacitus wrote, Iniquissima haec bellorum condicio est: prospera omnes sibi vindicant, adversa uni imputantur. The injustice of war is that victory is claimed by everyone and defeat falls on a single man. Relief is already on its way. Ten minutes. Robert nodded, there was no more communication to have, so he instead nodded towards the firepit. ¡°Fall back to the fire, if the wolves want the corpses they can have them. Cabot, you can light it?¡± Cabot nodded, ¡°Yes, sir,¡± his voice was tight with pain from the bleeding wound on his shoulder, but he¡¯d gotten lucky and it hadn¡¯t hit anything that was causing him to bleed to death. ¡°Lieutenant Merriman, help Captain Russel, Cabot, you¡¯ve got the lead, I¡¯ll take the rear, Captain Simpkins, with Merriman.¡± That put the injured man on point, but the threat was behind them and it meant if Cabot fell, one of the others could help him. He¡¯d have preferred to put Simpkins with Cabot, but the major would be insulted by the care as he was still mobile. He got a chorus of nods and they moved out quickly. Howls were getting closer. They moved quickly, but as a group, until they got to the fireplace, where Cabot instantly snapped his fingers and [Prestidigitation] caused the fire to leap to life. ¡°Damnation Robert, if I got to choose my spells the way the Clerics and Druids do, I could heal him myself. It burns me to run from a pack of wolves and let them have the beasts we killed.¡± He didn¡¯t mention his own wound, which he now pressed a hand and handkerchief to. Robert didn¡¯t mention it either, but he made sure to position Cabot and Russel together, with Simpkins to keep an eye on them. Robert nodded. He didn¡¯t exactly want to eat vulture and he had never been a hunter or a man interested in hunting trophies, but having nearly lost a b¡ªman to the beasts, he was suddenly much more understanding of the desire of men for trophies, or the historic desire to stick heads on sticks. See this? It tried to kill me and now it¡¯s a decoration! A warning. A threat. He¡¯d been in battle before and had felt the exhilaration of survival many times, but usually it was tempered either by loss, or the need to control other men. He shook it off, though it was less easy than he¡¯d like and to his shame, his subconscious brought up the boxes. 135/300 EXP, how much more would the wolves he heard in the dark, tearing apart the vultures that had nearly killed Russel? It wasn¡¯t worth risking the lives of his men, or himself for that. But it did indicate, given that it must have been divided four or five ways, depending on if Russel got any, given he was unconscious the entire fight, that the giant vultures were dangerous creatures. Not that that wasn¡¯t obvious, if not for good luck in the first attack, it would have been two versus three, or they might simply have flown off with their prey, daring the survivors to shoot at them from below, past the swinging bodies of their victims¡­ He glanced over at Russel who was standing on his own, though Simpkins stood nearby, ready to steady him if he slipped, especially forward. Robert had seen a man fall in a campfire while drunk and he¡¯d only needed to see that once. The rest of them faced outwards, keeping their eyes and ears on the shadows moving in the growing darkness outside the circle of firelight and the approaching light in the distance that had to be their relief. It would only a few minutes, and Robert was confident the wolves would focus on the free meal they already had, rather than fighting for an extra one. He spoke quietly, trying to confirm something that seemed to be correct based on what the men who¡¯d fought the bear had reported. ¡°Everyone, what is your current Hit Points?¡± He got a number of responses and it confirmed what had seemed likely based on the language of his healing abilities and the reports he¡¯d received from the injured. Cabot had several fewer Hit Points than previously, Russel had exactly 5, the same number of ¡®HP¡¯ that Robert had healed, and Simpkins had lost only one from having the bird fall upon him. It appeared having 0 hit points caused men to fall unconscious. How that interacted with actual death, or wounds, he didn¡¯t know and didn¡¯t see any safe way to find out, so he left it. At least he¡¯d confirmed that Hit Points and HP were the same thing. An unfortunate number of acronyms in the boxes were entirely unexplained...As expected, the wolf pack did not bother them, not with two massive meals just lying there and the garrison arrived swiftly. Sergeant Wilson lead the two squads and as he approached, the wolves howled and fled rather than fighting such a large group. ¡°Need medical spells for Captain Russel and Major Cabot,¡± he caroled as soon as they were within earshot and the men sped up. Moments later, both the wounded were fully healed. Robert sighed in relief, then restrained a sigh of concern. Given Wilson was here...he probably had not carried the day in his arguments. Though perhaps they would have a later election? He¡¯d said the officers would not stand, not that they would not vote...well, regardless, he¡¯d learn soon enough. ¡°What happened, Colonel?¡± he asked. ¡°Giant vultures. Follow me, Sergeant,¡± he ordered and the men fell in around him. The tension that returned was a weight, but a familiar one by now. The other officers moved as well, though both Cabot and Russel were surreptitiously poking their bare, pink flesh, visible as their uniforms had been torn open at the shoulders. The men followed and stones with [Light] spells on them were lifted high, to see the damage the wolves had done to the corpses. It was quite impressive how much they¡¯d managed to eat in only a few minutes. But the birds were still massive and the wolves had focused on the core of the first body and a few bites on the core of the second, leaving the massive wings almost entirely alone. The men gasped at the size once it had been spread out and lifted. They pulled the bodies back towards the fire and examined them in more detail. ¡°Keep an eye on the sky, Sergeant. They¡¯re most dangerous when they strike from surprise.¡± He nodded. Robert continued briefly, ¡°They struck silently, each trying to carry off one man, then attacked with talons and beak, given the size, rifles will probably do better than pistols. We were lucky with our shots, given the size of the creature.¡± The Sergeant nodded and snapped a few orders. Men began to dress the birds, collecting the bones to be traded to the goblins, plucking the feathers, most likely as decoration, or trade goods, assuming...whatever they were and wherever they were going, they could find someone to trade with. They were careful with that, but called over to Cabot to help clean off the down as they pulled it free from under the larger feathers. That was a precious commodity for the men themselves. Every man had a bedroll, but a down pillow, or down stuffing in the blanket would be a true luxury. And one the regimental quartermaster would need to manage for fairness. Russel was still poking his no-longer bloodied shoulders, but Cabot was already there, shaking him slightly and sending him on to take over management and make sure nothing went missing. ¡°Well, at least we¡¯ll figure out how much it costs to make a uniform,¡± Robert muttered, though he was not happy with the answer, 20 gold pieces for a full uniform, 8 for just the top. But the tears were so large that they couldn¡¯t be sewn up the way a clean axe blow could. And they were able to salvage the cloth from the damaged tops for other uses. Robert looked over to Sergeant Wilson. ¡°So, what was decided?¡± he asked quietly, to spare the man¡¯s feelings, as he¡¯d been one of the main contenders for leadership. ¡°Well sir, it was the queerest thing I ever saw¡­¡± Interlude: Lord of Southport The Council of Southport, great and mighty mortals that they imagined they were, still scampered to their feet as their Lord entered the chamber where the Council met. ¡°Great Lord¡ª¡± the Speaker attempted to speak for the council, as was her duty. She was interrupted by the thump of his sack hitting the long marble table and the heads sliding out. One actually slipping along the length of the table and slapping against the thighs of the Commander of the Southport Rangers, who did not scream, but only barely. The man was soft, inheriting his position from a more worth father¡ªgrandfather? It had been so long since any dared attack Southport that their military grew weak. The Guildmaster of the Goldsmith¡¯s Guild was not weak, nor was she soft, but she still screamed, presumably because one of the other heads that came out belonged to her son. The Captain of the Home Guard clapped a hand over her mouth. He wasn¡¯t soft either, but he was responsible for making sure that none of the people annoyed their lord so much that he needed to discipline them himself. The Deliverer, who, as his title suggested, delivered Southport¡¯s tribute to its Lord and Master, gathered the heads up and tidied them back into the massive sack as the Speaker spoke, as was her duty. ¡°Great Lord, may we request to understand how these have erred?¡± If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°I swore that none of my people would trespass in the northern forest. This was the bargain made and this is the bargain that will be kept. The borders are the borders. Any of mine who trespass them are violating my oath and will die for it.¡± The Council bowed to his word, even if the Guildmaster was more bent than bending. He stormed out of the chamber, leaping from the balcony, leaving the heads and shocked mortals behind. Such foolish creatures. He had to teach them the same lessons every generation or two, though it had been a long time since he had to burn down part of the city...he wondered how long it would be before he had to do it again. As wings burst from his back and his features twisted and spread, he considered the smoke rising from countless (to mortals, he could count them and had, knowing exactly how many houses, people and chimneys belonged to him) chimneys and considered how strange it had been to burn the city last time. He did so love fire, but he hated losing anything that was his. But, if it rebelled, it wasn¡¯t his...if only he could convince his innate greed of that fact¡­ Thomas: Results The vote had been close. With three people in the running (well, seriously in the running, several other men had put themselves forward, or been put forward, but had been chased out by their obvious lack of support during the discussions), voting had unfortunately mostly followed species lines, and with Trip and Wilson splitting the human vote and the goblins voting as a block, Varrarg Breakleg was the first Mayor of New Massachusetts. Serving a one year term, with monthly town meetings to decide any long term policy matters. It might have gone differently, but with Miss Silene present, only a few older men raised the notion of women not being allowed to participate and they so clearly were outnumbered they did not even request a vote. The vote had been close and interesting. With many of the people illiterate, or unable to communicate with one another, and a shortage of paper, they had resorted to older methods. Each had chosen their symbol, a rock from the ground for Varrarg, a bullet for Trip and a twig for Wilson. Everyone had been given one of each, then dropped whichever they supported into a large clay jar, which had then been emptied and counted in front of everyone. The other two symbols had been dropped in another jar, from which the bullets were retrieved. To be sure everyone remembered which stood for which candidate, the candidates were made to stand at the front, holding their symbol. Which had actually been quite amusing, as it took a surprisingly long time for more than a hundred and fifty voters to cycle through the line. To make matters worse, the goblin had stood there, quite dignified in her heathen garb and body paint, while Trip and Wilson both had attempted to emulate politicians and called out last minute arguments and pleas to the crowd. All they did was make her look dignified in comparison. Thomas himself had been torn. He liked Trip...sort of. But didn¡¯t agree with the man. He wanted to build something here. Once they had a solid base, they could find other people to trade with. Women liked a man of property, not a mercenary. Or at least, they married men of property, not mercenaries. This was good land. He didn¡¯t know farmland, but he knew towns and buildings and wood and there was good wood here, good animals and the farmers said good land. Land he¡¯d never have been able to afford and now it was his. Not the mill. They¡¯d voted, the mill, wells, latrines, all farmland within the walls and any other communal buildings, or resources would be owned by the town. But each and every human man would be given space within the wall for a house, or shop and house as they preferred and equal parcels of farmland outside the walls. The farmland was worthless for now, until they cleared it and had plows and horses to pull them, seeds and irrigation ditches to water them, and employees, or children or friends to work the land. But someday, he could almost see it, this tower would eventually become a military citadel, central to a growing settlement that would spill into the forest, down the river and across it...a city they could call their own. They¡¯d also elected a judge, but that had been easy because no one wanted the job. No one was getting paid at this point, they didn¡¯t even have anything except land and each soldier was given as much as they could reasonably manage. In the longer run, there would be a town-hall with rooms for the judge and the mayor, allowing at least some benefits, besides prestige. Once they had a proper economy and money, that would all change, but for now, it was just a remarkably unpopular job, especially as the limited legal code and insistence on jury trials for anything not handled by the military code of justice meant that he would be administrator more than lawyer. Corporal Robinson had ended up with it, because he¡¯d worked as a clerk for a lawyer and had one of the highest wisdom scores in the regiment. They¡¯d agreed on basic laws fairly easily, but left anything more complicated than ¡®no killing, no fighting, no stealing,¡¯ for later discussion. And, they¡¯d stolen their oath from that they had already sworn, swearing allegiance to New Massachusetts, their elected leaders and their obedience to superior officers, all so long as it did not conflict with their prior duties to the United States and their oath to uphold the constitution. The Settled Feet swore likewise, but without the restrictions, Thomas wasn¡¯t sure if it was because they did not have any such outside loyalties, or because they did not take the oath seriously. They did not seem to have any notion of the existence of such things before it was brought up. With Varrarg¡¯s platform winning for the year, the only other major topic of discussion had been what to do about the troops. In the end, a compromise had been reached, they¡¯d all signed up for three year hitches, or until the end of the war, whichever came first. Some men argued the war was over for them, others that they couldn¡¯t know and so should serve their full three years. Mostly the dispute was over men who wanted to be able to start work on their own property, or run off in search of women, and those who wanted to stick together. In the end, the compromise was to split the baby evenly as neither parent was willing to give to prove their love to Solomon. Eighteen months, then any man could resign if he wished. That left them with ten months of service. Then the goblin youngsters had asked about enlisting. The eventual answer after painfully lengthy discussion and several votes was that New Massachusetts was authorizing a military of 120 men. Women would not be allowed to enlist, but male goblins could, to get them up to full strength, but they would only take volunteers. No draft at this time. Since there were a hundred something soldiers already, that meant only a handful of goblins could get in, but since they were very short on resources, and it made at least two in three of their citizens soldiers, which was absurd in the long run, but since the soldiers were available for free (not quite free, every goblin soldier who completed their service would get the same land rights as the human soldiers, everyone was paid in land, for the moment, as it was all they had) labor for the moment, Thomas wouldn¡¯t complain. Well, he would, as the company didn¡¯t stop drilling or training. Besides everything else, they were practicing almost every military skill, except shooting, as ammunition was too dear for that. Men were even practicing bugle calls, both the ones for battle and the ones for everyday life. Which was a shame, Thomas had rather hoped he was done with reveille. He was proud of his service, proud of his actions, but that didn¡¯t mean he liked being woken up by the blaring of a horn, though at least he, as a sergeant, no longer had to share a tent with Trip. Respecting and even liking the man was a lot easier when you weren¡¯t trapped in a tiny tent with him. Robert¡¯s one ¡®request¡¯ had been granted and the town meeting had gone further, formally adopting the Union flag as that of New Massachusetts. It didn¡¯t make a lot of sense anymore, given the lack of any connection to the 13 original colonies, or the existing states, but it was a pretty flag and the goblins were fine with it, having no notion of flags, or larger loyalties beyond the clan. Robert himself had been off for the entire meeting, fighting Giant Vultures, apparently. Thomas was pleased his old friend hadn¡¯t been truly hurt, and no one was dead, so he didn¡¯t feel guilty about feeling glad that the other man had been a little humbled. Having endured brutal training, marched across the country, done hard labor, fought in two battles, and died, Thomas felt he understood what Robert had gone through in the first two years of the war and so felt no particular guilt in saying that his old friend had become something of a humorless prig. A deeply admirable humorless prig, but a humorless prig nonetheless. Even this business of absenting himself, to avoid ¡®undue influence¡¯ over the process, was both deeply honorable and so condescendingly arrogant that Thomas wanted to use his newfound muscles to punch Robert squarely in the face¡­ Thinking of Robert, his mind flicked back to their new civilian leader. He wasn¡¯t certain, he wouldn¡¯t claim to be an expert on human facial expressions, let alone goblin ones, but he had thought Varrarg¡ªMayor Varrarg had looked extremely surprised, when at the end of the town meeting, the entire company had come sharply to attention and saluted her. She¡¯d agreed to maintain their command structure when Robert finally returned (and hadn¡¯t that been a nerve-wracking night, not knowing how Robert and Cabot were, given the message Lieutenant Rawlins had received), but again, seemed surprised by receiving the question. Not as surprised as she was by the massive corpses which had been carried along behind them. Those birds were by far the largest flying creatures he¡¯d ever seen, though they were surprisingly light. Hollow bones apparently, though the goblins were pleased to receive them and requested the beaks and skulls as well, as apparently they had lost goblins to such creatures over the years. Robert asked the Mayor if that was acceptable and she eagerly agreed. The larger feathers were likewise disposed of by being passed to the Mayor for distribution, trade, or use. Robert did request the down be retained for bedding, which she casually agreed to and the meat was treated like any other hunted meat, which made Thomas a bit nervous, carrion birds did not seem like safe eating, but the ritual magics of purification seemed quite effective. None of the men had come down with anything, even the usual fluxes that were inevitable when moving to a new place. Thomas admitted he was jealous of the down pillows some men had received. Robert had insisted that they go to the men wounded in killing the vultures first, then to those wounded in other actions. Then he carefully checked and confirmed every man had a standard bedroll, which they did, and distributed the remainder first to those involved in the fight with the birds, then based on rank and seniority, which, alas, meant it had run out before it got to a new sergeant like himself. Indeed, despite their prodigious size, it had run out before it got to Rawlins, let alone the NCOs. But it had worked, besides acting as a reward, it meant men were keeping an eye on the sky, not in fear, but in hope for down pillows and bedding of their own. She¡¯d been even more surprised by the question about planning and operations had been met with delegation to Robert, for the most part, though she received the briefing of what was underway with a certain equanimity, which was impressive from such a small person. The hunting parties were also scouting surrounding territory and they had a basic map of the area immediately around the settlement, but she did want to (or Robert suggested and she agreed, it was hard to tell) approve/order any military operations beyond standard patrols/hunting/sentries. And she formalized Robert¡¯s position that they would not go into the Deep Dark, or mess with the river (except his sawmill, which wouldn¡¯t be going into the river) without orders from her, given the horror stories they¡¯d heard about both. She¡¯d also given her one and only direct order, though it was phrased as a request, to prioritize finishing the door to secure the entrance to the Deep Dark. Robert saluted and agreed. Of course, any actual war, would need to be declared by the town assembly/meeting, but anything urgent, or standard operations were for her to set sideboards on, while Robert actually managed it all. The next few days were busy, well, the entire time was busy, but they¡¯d gotten the frame of the mill up (after appropriate prayers and blessings from the Chaplain for laying the first stones and timbers) and finished the mill pool and gates, which would create the still pool of water they could use to control the flow of water over the wheel and thereby the speed of the saw. To assuage Mayor Varrarg¡¯s and Robert¡¯s worries, Rawlins produced two heavy nets, each with metal anchors, which were stretched and anchored into place to prevent anything from getting in, or at least getting in easily. The gates worked properly, sliding smoothly in the wooden frame they¡¯d put in place. He¡¯d prefer something in stone and had many plans for improvement, but this only needed to last a few seasons. Everything worked! The gate to the river was in place and with a few waves of his pointed finger, he opened a channel to the river, where it bent slightly, allowing a single line of water to run straight down into his pool...and soak into the ground. He signaled and the gates were open wider, speeding the flow, then cursed as it began to fill, but was still draining far too fast into the dirt and it sped out so fast that it was eating away at the sides of the channel and even part of the pond edge. He cursed again. This was why the mill ponds he¡¯d seen were all lined with stone on the sides and bottom...but they didn¡¯t have the stone, any mining on the massive mesa was banned as the goblins had riddled the thing with tunnels as much as was safe. There was no nearby quarry, though the foothills across the river looked encouragingly stony. Thomas cursed to himself as he looked up. It was windy atop the mesa, he should have built a windmill atop it...damnation. He ordered the gate closed, which also worked like a dream, even if it had taken a lot of animal fat to grease the wood. He could dig down further, but from digging the wells, he was not optimistic about hitting bedrock or clay any time soon. Indeed, surveying their town for a clay base to make sure the saltpeter beds would retain their waste and properly transform had been annoying. Only at the edge had such a place been found and he didn¡¯t know if [Mold Earth] would work on clay, it specified loose earth...he quickly made his way over to the edge, ignoring the stench of the somewhat covered urine pits and stripped off the covering earth of an adjacent area and pointed a finger. The ground shook, but didn¡¯t shift. He cursed again. Then thought for a moment, found a dozen men with entrenching tools and had them cut around the edge of the clay. It wouldn¡¯t be fully loose, but it would be disconnected from the rest. He pointed, it shook more. He sighed heavily in frustration, then thought for another moment and realized he needed to narrow it down. The spell let him take up to a cube five feet on each side, which he¡¯d tried automatically, as it was what he¡¯d generally done. But the entrenching tools had dug down maybe a foot, not five. He pointed and narrowed it down to just the top six inches, and despite being stuck horizontally, it peeled off nicely, and flowed over the ground. He quickly stripped dirt off more clay in the area, until he got to the edge of the clay pit and put men to cutting squares, five feet on a side, while he dragged over thick slabs of clay and armored the sides and bottom of the pool. The men grumbled a bit, and more when they all then had to go into the pit and smooth the clay together with hand tools and hands, but given that everything could be cleaned (except for themselves, as they rather exceeded its one cubic foot limitation, it was strange that rifles didn¡¯t, they pointed out, but, it appeared to be going by volume rather than actual size) by any spellcaster with [Prestidigitation] and Thomas promised they could swim themselves clean in the pond once it was done, the men worked with a will. Before night fell, he was able to reopen the gates and the pond filled smoothly. A swim later, he pulled on his, once again, clean uniform and smiled. If nothing else, having a pond inside the walls, which was safe, would be a benefit. Indeed, one of the other Wizards finally got to experiment with his [Frost Fingers] spell. Others had tried using spells which allegedly inflicted ¡®cold¡¯ damage on water, to try to produce ice, but only the [Frost Fingers] spell said it froze liquid and that proved to be true. Thirty seconds later, they had a massive block of ice to try to move...only to realize they lacked a good ice house and that given the ease of making more ice (though only one Wizard currently had the [Frost Fingers] spell), they shouldn¡¯t waste time on making one now. But he didn¡¯t want it to be merely a source of water, so he looked back at the mill and the workings. The assembly would take many men, but not that much time, not with most of the company assisting, he was sure. He still needed Rawlins to make the actual blade and some of the gears, they would be iron and wood, so he should be able to do it quickly and efficiently. The wheel was almost done and he¡¯d dug a deep pit after the second gate, so the water would come down from above and spin the wheel forcefully. The question was, how many gears did he want? A sawmill needed to move the blade up and down many times for each spin of the waterwheel, but it also needed enough force to cut through any wood they might put on it. The conversions would require multiple gears, as well as a connecting rod and shaft to convert the rotation of the wheel to the up and down motion of the saw. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. In a perfect world, he¡¯d have additional connections would allow the wheel to also power the movement of the log into the saw. But for now, he¡¯d rely on human power for that, a simple cradle, well greased and the soldiers could slice logs easily. That was simple enough, but there were a million other questions about the design, which he needed to finalize. How the men would move the logs around, the size of the logs it would take, both in length (which determined how many pieces a tall tree needed to be cut into by hand) and in girth (which determined which trees could be used at all). The trees they¡¯d gotten so far had been fairly small, being on the edge of the forest, where the ground turned to sand. It was surprising there weren¡¯t willows, or other trees growing into the river, but perhaps this place didn¡¯t have such? Or the monsters in the river kept it clear? Regardless, even a small cradle would work for the trees nearest the settlement, but the larger ones which were deeper in would need to be cut into many pieces to be brought in, especially given the lack of actual roads, or draft animals. Perhaps those could be charcoaled in place? But Miss Silene was very worried about fire...well, that was a problem for Robert and the Mayor. He made the final set of decisions and again asked Rawlins to prioritize his gears and sawblade as he prepared to finish the mill. Which meant he had to go see Rawlins. And his babies. Unfortunately, Rawlins was trying to get some of the goblins who were already caring for large numbers of goblin children to care for his babies as well. Which meant he went inside the mountain...which he wasn¡¯t terribly comfortable with, until he saw the tiny goblin babies. They were so tiny it was insane. And adorable! He¡¯d seen human babies, of course, held and cared for siblings and nieces and nephews, but goblins were just built on a smaller scale all over, so their babies were tiny. More like kittens, or puppies than the babies he was used to. Older children helped take care of younger ones, as were some adult caretakers, the Chaplain and a handful of human volunteers, teaching English and trying to teach them reading via the Bible. To his surprise, this was the first place he¡¯d been within the mesa that was lit without a human bringing in a lantern, or something with [Light] cast on it. Perhaps the younger goblins couldn¡¯t see as well in the dark? The goblins were using a strange slightly glowing fungus and candles, probably made from animal fat, but those did give off some smoke that must be let out somehow¡ªah, there was a vent in a jagged corner that was the top of the cave, that wasn¡¯t too bad. He wondered about seeing if they wanted someone to come cast [Light] for them, but that would be needed every hour...though the Ever Burning Torch would work...but it was being used at the guard post below... The whole place was so warm that Thomas actually undid his uniform and the goblin children were clearly comfortable running around naked, squealing and chasing each other, throwing things and, for some of the older children were observing the older goblins who were working as they watched the children. He wasn¡¯t sure why it was warm, and almost got distracted into looking into that, until he suddenly discoveredthat goblin women both had breasts and could breastfeed, but they were apparently only visibly distinct when actively producing milk. And that, as a result, goblin women had no sense that they should cover themselves. He looked away carefully as Rawlins made his case and the goblins looked with great dubiousness at a baby that was now larger than any of them and beginning to crawl with terrifying acceleration and speed. Babies the size of an 8-year old boy was a sort of horrifying notion in general, but babies the size of an adult person, which is what the goblins were facing was worse. And unfortunately, though couldn¡¯t speak, or really understand yet, despite growing at a prodigious rate. Indeed, as Thomas watched, one head finished chewing on a bone and hauled off and tried to whack the other head. Rawlins casually caught it, as if he was expecting it and rapped the bone against the attackers hand. ¡°Naughty Abraham, don¡¯t hit Sumner,¡± as that head burst into tears, Thomas twitched...were those really the names he had given them? ¡®Abraham¡¯ then reached out for the bone which was returned and gnawed on again. Sumner was also gnawing on a piece of wood, wrapped in bits of a uniform, apparently not hungry, though not enjoying the teething process and not even noticing his attempted bludgeoning. ¡°See, you just need to be firm with them.¡± The goblins looked at him with a certain amount of doubt, probably because they couldn¡¯t understand him. But an almost grown goblin spoke up, repeating his words understandable to both. A male goblin nodded eagerly, but the others in the large cavern were not, especially as the baby started to crawl towards other, small children and had to be hauled back into place by Rawlins. It took a moment, but one of the older women gave a lengthy speech, which the translator translated as ¡®they say no. Not unless they¡¯re forced to.¡± Rawlins sagged. The male goblin frowned, and poked his friend, ¡°But we can watch them for you, sir! If it¡¯ll help Merrik and me enlist?¡± Rawlins frowned slightly, then shrugged, ¡°You¡¯ll have my support, but it depends on the Colonel and the Mayor.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll do it!¡± there was a lengthy discussion of what the babies needed and where they¡¯d be, then they headed off, herding the baby like sheepdogs, before Thomas could make his requests. Rawlins was willing to work a few extra hours, if Thomas covered for him with the babies. Not exactly what he was hoping for, but he¡¯d take it. Several working days (and one forced mostly day of rest) later, the mill was done. It was insanely fast. Without magic and a hundred hands to help, it would have been impossible. But the entire regiment turned out to see it. There wasn¡¯t a real roof, or full building, but the gears were in place, and they¡¯d been tested and a log had been heaved into the cradle, the saw was in place. It had cost 97 gold pieces for everything that he¡¯d needed from Rawlins. If this didn¡¯t work...he¡¯d tested it, of course, but only by hand, spinning the wheel to watch the saw rise and fall. The regiment and the mayor were here to see it. He took a deep breath and nodded to the man by the gate before the plunge down to the wheel and he moved the gate up, allowing a trickle of water through. The wheel began to turn, the saw began to go up and down, slowly. No one was impressed by that. The gate continued to open and the wheel sped up, until Thomas yelled for him to stop. It was fast enough. This wasn¡¯t perfect, a modern mill could be controlled more centrally, with fewer people, but this would do for now. The log was already in the cradle, and had been fully debarked (the bark had been requested by some goblins, though he wasn¡¯t sure why). Two men slowly slid the log forward and sawdust began to fly as the blade slid through the wood without difficulty. First they sliced the log along one side, then pulled off about eight inches there, turned it and repeated the process on each other side. Within ten minutes, and that was working slow and careful, they had a thick central squared pillar, suitable for a major support beam in a reasonable structure. Twenty minutes later, the other portions were turned into long, 2 inch thick planks. They stopped several inches from the end, as they hadn¡¯t fixed the log to the cradle and so were handling it with spike and hand, quite close to the saw. But something which would have taken men days, and a large number of saws, was done with one saw and an hour. Thomas smiled so broadly his cheeks ached as he yelled for the gate to be closed. The pond hadn¡¯t dropped that much, but he had it refilled as the boards were taken off to dry. All the time spent marking the cuts on the board in charcoal (the first batch, not particularly well done, but good enough for this purpose) had been worth it, the practice cuts using the saw as a handsaw which had shown his initial intention had flung sawdust up into the faces of the men guiding the log, rather than onto the floor, (okay, rocks and sand, but that was good enough for now, the next goal was a roof and walls to protect the mill workings, though the goblins said rain was unlikely for a few more weeks). They also needed places to keep the wood...he almost smacked himself in the face and went to talk to Varrarg. They had an entire cave system, after all, most of which wasn¡¯t in use. Easy solutions were easy. A warm dry place was best and would speed the drying and the goblins were fine with use of some of the corridors near the blacksmith (who was practically in love with the 54th as they¡¯d provided him with so much more metal to work and new problems he could work on, as well as suggesting improvements to his anvil, there had apparently been some early disputes, but after the 54th¡¯s own former smiths proved their skills, it was more friendly competition than insult) and their potters (who, he was interested to note, didn¡¯t use kilns, so must have some alternate method of firing the pots), which, he belatedly noted was right below the floor the children were on, these were the source of the heat that let them run around naked. He was impressed by the efficiency of the design of this place. Even as men grumbled about carrying the wood all the way up through the narrow corridors. In the long run, he thought they might want to punch holes out into the open, and set up cranes. They¡¯d need long ropes to get all the way to the top, but at this height, only a hundred or two hundred feet would be needed. Usually it wouldn¡¯t be worth bothering with something like that as there would be plenty of people to carry stuff, but that simply wasn¡¯t the case here. He laughed to himself, the goblins had become incredibly efficient with space, because they¡¯d been so space constrained and now he was trying to make the humans more efficient with people, because they were so short. It was interesting. As was the goblin language, which he really needed to try to learn, though he hadn¡¯t had time. The goblins he interacted with on the way up had managed enough english for ¡®Yes,¡¯ ¡®No,¡¯ ¡®Stop,¡¯ ¡®Go,¡¯ and, of course, the necessities, ¡®Please,¡¯ ¡®Thank you,¡¯ and ¡®Hello.¡¯ Personally, he thought it was worth it to teach ¡®Good Morning,¡¯ ¡®Good Afternoon,¡¯ ¡®Good Evening,¡¯ as those were much more polite, but he supposed since any of them were more than he could manage in their tongue, he should not complain overmuch. As he was preparing to leave, a goblin did try to speak to him, but he couldn¡¯t understand until the younger one who¡¯d translated for Rawlins earlier in the week showed up and explained the goblin was hoping to trade for clay, as he¡¯d seen men gathering it and mixing it with water and sand, testing the ratios for this clay to figure out what they could use to make good bricks. Thomas frowned and the goblin flinched. Thomas forced his face back to stillness, he wasn¡¯t mad, he just hadn¡¯t noticed it happening. It wasn¡¯t a bad idea, if they could make bricks that would help too. The problem was...he didn¡¯t know anything about that process. Some of the men must have worked at brickyards in their past, but he certainly hadn¡¯t and it didn¡¯t involve any of the machinery he¡¯d studied, at least so far as he knew. Still, he knew the answer to this question, ¡°The clay deposit by the saltpeter beds are considered to be owned by the town, rather than by any individual, you¡¯ll need to ask Mayor Varrarg, as I assume the men making bricks did,¡± he made a mental note to check with Robert, wouldn¡¯t do to step over the line. It was impressive the men had the energy for bricks, unless Robert had put them up to it, but then again, he¡¯d been more energetic here than he had before. He¡¯d put it down to the interesting puzzles, but perhaps it was another gift of the boxes? In fact, he was even more pleased when he realized it wasn¡¯t just bricks, the men had made two earthen ovens, which were already firing, to let them make better use of the flour in their supplies. He stopped by to talk to Robert, who was pleased with the result and agreed they needed to get everything under shelter quickly. Which meant they needed more boards, more shaped wood and something to actually roof the structures. The mill needed a real roof. They hadn¡¯t found any slate yet, so that was out, as was asphalt, or copper. Tar was possible, but would compete with charcoal for their wood supply.Thatch, usually the fast, cheap choice wasn¡¯t due to their lack of straw, or knowledge of local plants¡­.a question for Miss Silene, perhaps? And an excuse to talk to her...she wasn¡¯t exactly modest in her dress or behavior, but she was so beautiful¡­but as the Bard said ¡°beauty is but a vain and doubtful good; a shining gloss that fadeth suddenly; a flower that dies when it begins to bud; a doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.¡± Except...that wouldn¡¯t be true, was it? She was centuries old, and would, as far as he knew, live as long as her tree. She would be beautiful far longer than he would be alive, barring some disaster...they really should do something to protect her tree from threats, that was the true route to her heart, not flattery, or dances, substance... He shook off the thought, that left clay, or wood shingles, neither of which would be fast. Robert said that the plan for the bricks, once they¡¯d been sun dried was to just get raw wood frames spreading out some tent fabric to protect them from the coming spring rains, which would ruin unfired bricks. They could do the same with the mill if need be, though it would mean more men would temporarily move into the caves, the goblins had plenty of space, even if much of it was so short that it would be deeply uncomfortable, but many areas were larger, as there were natural caves throughout, some had intermediate floors, but a shortage of materials prevented many. In the long run, they¡¯d probably put in wood floors splitting up those taller caverns, unless they preferred to keep some open for humans? But it would probably be easier for humans to build up top, given the lack of lighting, in most places... Yes, he could see more rising, even as he walked over to where the men must have gotten someone else to dig down to the clay, and were dumping dry stuff in, as men brought over buckets of water (wood, hand chopped and dried, mostly, while he¡¯d been building his mill)which was being dumped in. They already had a couple of brick molds, lined with metal to make sure that it was not worn down from repeatedly being filled with clay and having the striker stick shove off any excess clay, before the brick was dumped out onto sand, brought up from the beach in massive piles (which was also mixed into the clay and used to keep the clay from sticking to the molds), which indicated someone else working with [Mold Earth] was helping. The big delay was moving water, otherwise they were an efficient team. The wood buckets weren¡¯t very efficient. He considered and asked. It hadn¡¯t occurred to them to put in a closer well. Given the presence of the saltpeter bed, it couldn¡¯t be used for drinking water, but it could work for this. He punched one in carefully and got out of their way. After two men almost fell in, they put up simple fences made of tree branches to keep people back. That hadn¡¯t been an issue with the other well, but it was in almost constant use, given the number of people who needed water. But with the pond...he put a few men on it, before heading back to the mill and finding men just standing around, as they¡¯d already cut all of the debarked trees. Thomas spent most of the rest of the day sorting that out, as they were short on both tools and men to keep cutting trees down, delimbing them, skidding them to town, debarking them and cutting them to size. All the other bits of the process needed his attention as well, especially given their limited number of tools. If not for the axes they¡¯d taken from the orcs, they would have needed a lot more tools from Rawlins, but even so, they didn¡¯t have enough and massive war axes made poor debarking tools. So getting better tools from Rawlins was a high priority. Even so, as he worked to streamline the process and fought with the men who were trying to prioritize finishing the road to the field, or who wanted to use trees and axes for the construction of log cabins (when none of the fools had even finished the foundations to their houses!) he felt himself smiling. Progress was being made, every day, towards something he could be proud of. Sure, he hadn¡¯t even managed to touch the plot of land allocated to him for his house, or see the plot of land allocated for his farming, but by the time he was ready, he was sure he¡¯d be able to build himself the finest house in town and he¡¯d have all the tools he needed...assuming he¡¯d be allowed bricks and boards? He wasn¡¯t quite sure how that was working, as they were paid in land. The men wanting to start construction were talking about cutting down trees in unclaimed areas, but he wasn¡¯t sure about that either. Really, there were so many interesting problems, how could-- To his immense frustration, his problem solving was interrupted by a bugle call. Not one he recognized, which wasn¡¯t unusual, their new buglers were...not good yet, even with diligent practice. Though they had gotten reveille down, so he hadn¡¯t worked through the night, which was good, that hadn¡¯t happened since back in Knox College...for a moment he remembered watching the fifth debate between Lincoln and Douglas while a student there, it had been impressive watching both men, masters of rhetoric, logic, sophistry and argument, knowing their every word was transcribed to be written up and transmitted, lie to one another and the audience. Watching Lincoln expressly saying that ¡°in their right to ¡®life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness,¡¯ as proclaimed in that old Declaration, the inferior races are our equals,¡± had been a master class in joy and anger all wrapped in a single thing. And Douglas...Douglas the compromiser, who owned a plantation in Mississippi and a hundred slaves...had rallied to Lincoln¡¯s side in the end, when the Slave Power of the south finally overreached itself and attacked Fort Sumter. You could never truly understand another man. The bugle sounded again, shaking him from his thoughts and he realized it was calling them to the top of the mesa. Another town meeting? So soon? He might have lost track of time, but it hadn¡¯t been a month! What in the world was going on? Interlude: Lysis the Guide Lysis felt the bones of her tail ache. They always did before she set out. Her nieces and nephews honored her with a feast before she went out, but the ache made it hard to enjoy the feast, or the children. She loved them, she truly did, but there was a reason, besides her calling, that she did not have brats of her own. She wove her way through the tunnels, the glowing jellyfish she¡¯d taken from the school outside her sister¡¯s home wasn¡¯t truly necessary, she could feel the water and the walls, and knew the route like she knew her own scales. Even as she thought that, she managed to scrape against the side of the wall, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to sting, make her grumble and make her wish she was wearing the clothes woven from the reeds and plants of their home. Which, of course, made her feel guilty, such things were fine for the others, but she was a Guide. She went outside the walls of their caverns. She led the people to the spot where the Water Lion had slain the sahuagin and freed their clan from that threat, before leading them to the caverns where they lived to this day, all in exchange for a song. He went naked, so did she, so did all the guides. Well, except for her spear. The only metal weapon they had, made of tarnished bronze shaft and spearhead, which did not rust, unlike the small amounts of iron they had sometimes found either by her, or her predecessors (or her idiot apprentice, Krlil, who insisted he had learned enough to Guide without her, despite only six years of training) in the Great River when she ventured out, or which was lost in one of the pools which connected to their caverns. She waited by the exit, for the Guided. There were three children this month, which wasn¡¯t unusual. Their growth was limited by the caverns, but life could still be hard, disease swept through their small community frequently, despite the best efforts of their shaman and chief and though food was plentiful, accidents were frequent too, whether while hunting, or in the many games that especially the young liked to play. They arrived one at a time, each accompanied by their families. None tried to speak with her, they knew better. She focused on what was to come, letting the route and the expected threats float through her mind as the world drifted past her. The meditation slowed her heart and pushed the aches and uncertainty away, letting her become the Guide in truth. This set was nervous about going out into the river, for their coming-of-age, but they didn¡¯t twitch overmuch and each managed to meet her gaze as she looked them over. No would-be runaways or explorers in this group, she thought. ¡°You have your shells?¡± she asked. Each of them nodded, one already had it in his hands, as he was too poor for the pouches the other two had theirs concealed in. Each lifted it high so she could see the carvings on the front, of their chosen patron, two for Eadro, their creator and one for the Water Lion, their protector. The carvings on the front proved their skill and adulthood. The carving on the back was their own prayer and was no concern of anyone but them and the gods. She nodded. ¡°Follow me carefully, and silently. Obey my orders like the chief¡¯s. If we are caught by outsiders, die before you tell them of the entryways.¡± They nodded solemnly. A dozen large merfolk were waiting by the rock which blocked the entryway to the river. Lysis floated there for a moment, closing her eyes and doing her best to feel if there was any threat. As always, the Water Lion did not warn of anything. She swam closer to the rock. The other merfolks shifted it, working in manful silence, though some of the women in the families of the Guided were watching with more than a bit of lust. One started a low whistle, before being silenced by a fang-edged glare from the Guide. The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation. Sound traveled and was dangerous with an entryway open. They had only opened it a handsbreath, though muscles shook to keep it there, she closed her eyes, listening intently, focused on what was beyond their safe haven. Her nose twitched, smelling the scents brought by the river. Nothing unexpected. She nodded, without opening her eyes and the entryway was opened further, just far enough. She went through without a backward look. She¡¯d ordered them to follow, if they couldn¡¯t follow that order, then they could not complete this rite. All three followed her. She felt the water react to their awkward movements and was certain they were sliding in the unexpectedly powerful current, which they¡¯d never experienced. But they recovered swiftly enough as they swam upstream. Always travel upstream, where the scents of what you travel towards will be carried to you, while your own will be denied to them. The old words from her master rang in her ears. He had been an old bastard. Krlil may have thought her harsh, but he wouldn¡¯t have lasted a day with her old master. Youngsters today were so soft. She almost snorted to herself as those words came not in her own voice, but in her old master¡¯s. It was one of his favorite sayings, and she¡¯d hated it. It was a shame he was as right about it as he had been everything else¡­ They moved swiftly, along the river bottom, just above the mud and sand. It was not a long trip, but the silence clearly weighed on the children. But they obeyed, holding their tongues as her carefully honed and trained senses kept carefully focused on every threat which might exist and guided them along the hidden, sacred path, almost invisible from above and to the sides as they wove through the thick plants growing along the bottom of the river. Some part of her noted that the plants were growing back fast, she would need to make another trip, alone, to carefully trim them back to maintain this path, as well as the multiple false trails that led to some of the dangers of this part of the river. She could feel the tension growing amongst the children, expecting to be jumped by sahuagin, surface dwellers, or demons at every moment, until she brought them to a halt. They clearly wanted to speak, but didn¡¯t, even as she thrust her spear into the ground and swam back towards them at full speed, which levered the cover out of place, revealing the cache of prayers, hidden under the ancient pad which had been in place ever since the first Guide reclaimed this sacred place for the people. The voice came out, as her eyes began to glow. As always, she felt the Water Lion only here, only in this moment. ¡°Place your work within the cache, speak no words, but remember your prayer and your god in this sacred place,¡± the ancient words flowed out of her and through the water, deep, reverberating in the bones of the children who had reached this place, shaking them to their core. But despite the strangeness around them and her own terrifying visage, they rallied and one by one they dashed forward and slipped their shells into the cache. The Guide slammed her spear down on the other side of the cover and threw her whole body weight against it, slamming it back into place. Without another word, she continued swimming upstream, the others falling into line behind her. They never swam downstream, where any enemy would be coming from, instead they continued swiftly upstream until they reached the second concealed entrance to their caverns. She thrust her bronze spear through the small gap near the entryway, once, twice, thrice and left it there. At that sign, the men who¡¯d let her out (and then swum to the other end of the caverns to the other block) pushed it aside just far enough to let her and the others in. The new adult¡¯s families were waiting and smiling, but they held their tongues until the block was back in place and the Guide had retrieved her spear. ¡°The clan has three new adults! Step forward, and speak your names!¡± Each did so, though they passed through her mind, as tension began to fade and the intense focus and meditative state which she had maintained throughout abandoned her, leaving the aches in her body and the tension headache, as the Guide moved on, leaving only Lysis. The families were throwing a feast of course, and Lysis went, as was required, though she had a hard time eating much. The backlash from the nerves of being out in the river twisted her stomach, so she simply nibbled on a few things before finally taking her leave. She headed home, tired and heart heavy. She really needed to find another apprentice, or rebind her relationship with Krlil...but for now, she needed to rest. Robert: Arrivals The last week had been hell. Not because of any danger, or really any major change in the reality of the situation. Mayor Varrarg was easy enough to work with, her single request, besides seeing the map Robert was slowly assembling of the surrounding area based on information from Miss Silene and the hunting parties was strange and dangerous, but he could pass it off easily enough to Sergeant Trip and Private Sharts, as their resident woodland experts. Besides hunting game and gathering plants either for Miss Silene to identify, or which she had identified and they wanted more of, they were also to figure out how to trap and retrieve a wolf, alive and unharmed for her and the goblins, as they allegedly had some historical connections to the beasts, which she wanted to test. Usually, this would have been an absurd request, but the [Sleep] spell should let them put the beast to sleep, if they could corner one. Unfortunately, it only lasted for a minute, which meant they¡¯d need to be quick about tying it up. If not for the prevalence of healing magics, he might have balked, but as it was, he gave the job to Trip and Sharts, they grabbed some of the spellcasters with the [Sleep] spell and fucked off to do the job. It wasn¡¯t going fast, as they were extremely short on rope, even if some of the men were figuring out which local plants could be used to make simple ropes and teaching their fellows. Traps without ropes were possible, but apparently were more usually deadly, if he¡¯d understood Shart¡¯s stammered explanation. So, their plan was simple, keep dumping offal and off cuts near where the wolves had feasted on the vultures, then keep an eye and [Sleep] them when they returned and save the ropes for restraining them. But the Mayor was being reasonable about the time it was taking. Having to brief her daily on the activities and get her involvement was annoying, but the woman wasn¡¯t stupid and she knew what the goblins had and needed. As soon as he mentioned needing lodestones for the [Mending] cantrip, she managed to get two small ones from the blacksmith, who apparently used a larger one to hold small finished products while he was working. She made sure the goblin tanners worked with the small number of men who had experience in that field from the regiment and so the hides and furs from the many animals disappearing down their gullets weren¡¯t going to waste. The tanning process wasn¡¯t done on any of them and it massively stunk up an area right outside the wall, but the men would be glad of it once winter came, or if they found someone to trade with. And despite her obvious reluctance, when her grandson had volunteered to be one of the handful of goblins to join, she had not objected, even as the squad of seven volunteers began to go through the long and painful process of training. Robert was glad he wasn¡¯t watching. The company officers had recommended Wilson for promotion to First Sergeant, which he¡¯d duly done and then dumped the problem of training on him, along with his sole copy of Hardee¡¯s Rifle and Light Infantry Tactics. It was somewhere between funny and heartbreaking to see men the size of children double timing it around the town, marching, trying to keep up with the large man. Trying to learn the bugle calls, even as the buglers were trying to learn them was no easy task. And many of the rules didn¡¯t really apply, as long arms were just absurd on their small frames. Of more immediate concern was that just equipping the seven of them with pistols would consume more than half their store of gold and that was without considering ammunition. There was also the issue that if more men came through, and more men would come through, he was confident, even if they never saw combat again, men died on campaign, mostly from disease, that would put them over their 120 man cap. But it could be raised at the next meeting, if that were to happen, or a man could be released to serve in a civilian capacity. Mayor Varrarg would probably be thrilled to have her own healer on hand, though Russel was smart enough to make sure several were at the guard post in the main cavern, so if any goblin was injured they wouldn¡¯t need to be taken far (or call far) for aid. The excitement down below when they¡¯d seen lights coming through the firing ports in the door they¡¯d successfully mounted to block access to the Underdark, which had proven to be some strange glowing giant beetles hadn¡¯t been a problem. The men had shot one, the rest fled, but it continued glowing, which was strange. They recovered the corpse and found that it had two strange glowing organs, which were still glowing down below. The goblins had recognized them from old stories and been deeply sad that they¡¯d been chased off, so the next time they came back, a few were captured by use of the [Sleep] spell and quickly brought into the rat nest. Apparently, they¡¯d historically had both, but the beetles had been lost in their escape. The light did not improve that place, but the beetles apparently ate the rat dung? Which did make it smell better. Robert had considered attempting to claim the dung in there, but the place was deeply creepy and would not help morale, nor would it help relations with the goblins. But that wasn¡¯t the problem. The goblins weren¡¯t the problem. Mayor Varrarg wasn¡¯t the problem. The outside world wasn¡¯t really a problem. Miss Silene was a bit of the problem, for by now officers were breaking up arguments amongst the NCOs about her favors and Robert had even had to have a quiet conversation with Simpkins and Russel about the matter. But that wasn¡¯t the real problem. The real problem was his own men. The solution the town meeting had come up with for the lack of pay was, in retrospect, the obvious one and one the United States had used frequently, paying in land rather than specie, given the presence of the former in rather greater abundance than the latter. The problem with it was that once they¡¯d sorted out who got what (and how that had ended up being his problem, he still wasn¡¯t entirely sure, but Mayor Varrarg was a tricky one), everyone suddenly wanted to work their own land, rather than focus on the things everyone needed. The men who could cast [Mold Earth] were suddenly flush in beer rations and others eager to cover their patrols in exchange for saving them days of back-breaking labor cutting out house foundations with five minutes of spellcasting. And then Robert had somehow been sucked into a surveying question, which meant he had to stop everyone until they could mark out each plot, which had somehow needed to involve him, until he¡¯d managed to offload it onto Corporal Robinson, as the town judge. But now the property was marked, which meant everyone was interested in improving it. And interested in both what crops would be available and, for those without farming experience, in learning how to farm. Which meant men kept trying to ¡®help¡¯ Merriman as he worked on the farms within the walls. Which meant keeping people focused on the work that needed to be done, and the drills which still needed to be done, especially as they couldn¡¯t spare any ammunition for target practice, everyone¡¯s favorite part of the drill, was torturous. He heard more grumbling than he liked, that wasn¡¯t just the standard soldier¡¯s complaining. And then Thomas got the mill working and started turning the woodcutting into a streamlined lumber production engine. Which got people all excited about using that lumber for houses, without even considering that they didn¡¯t really have much in the way of nails, or other fasteners. Rawlins could make them, but only 10 at a time (thankfully costing 1 copper piece each, which seemed very low, but the pricing was absurd as far as he could tell). Given the time taken, it was better to get a smithy set up, but for now, the cost wasn¡¯t worth it, as there was already one in the mesa. So, they were¡¯ providing the goblin smith with metal to be recycled and charcoal to do it and he took a percentage of the metal in exchange for the work. In the long run, they desperately needed a source of metal, which was the one point of disagreement with Varrarg. The most likely place to find metal was underground and they had a big tunnel into the ground, they should check it out. But she was adamantly opposed and they weren¡¯t desperate yet, though once the goblins graduated to weapons practice (well, pistol practice, as they were doing some basic training with their own weapons, which was all poor Wilson could manage as he was no expert in combat with a pick, or a big knife, especially by people who were so small, but he was smart enough to recognize that they¡¯d probably be deployed as skirmishers, given their height, they could easily hide in underbrush, so tried focusing on that), they¡¯d lose a lot of their gold. Even a few nuggets of gold would replenish their stock and they could hardly expect to just keep getting attacked by people carrying coinage. The quest rewards also included such, but they seemed strangely focused on combat, as nothing which simply improved matters gave a quest. He¡¯d hoped that some of the town goals would, but that had not proven to be the case. But the point was, things were getting tense, especially as men realized the advantages of various spells and that Sharts had gained the ability to cast spells when he reached the second level. The reversal from the earlier fear of such things was amusing, but not helpful. Sharts and Trip were actually making the most progress, as they were the best hunters. But two others who had earned experience from the other encounters were brought up to second level by dint of volunteering for hunting missions and being assigned to kill Giant Rats, when the goblins decided to do so. It was strange that a deer brought only 10 EXP, while a Giant Rat brought 25, but he wasn¡¯t complaining. Though he was somewhat complaining about what he¡¯d gotten. The Bard had gained two abilities, and a third 1st Level spell slot. The first ability allegedly allowing them to add half their ¡®proficiency bonus¡¯ whatever that was to checks that they weren¡¯t already proficient in. Given the phrasing, it seemed clear it was intended to make them more generally skilled, as it was called Jack of All Trades. But it had no visible effect as far as anyone could tell. The second skill allowed people to heal more when they took a short rest, which was the first indication that they could heal during a short rest, which seemed absurd, it was an hour long break for a meal, how could anyone heal during that? But it wasn¡¯t something they tested. They had plenty of magical healing available, especially as the Bard was allowed to change one of their spells, though not their cantrips, upon leveling up and had chosen to replace one of their spells with a healing one. More usefully, they also were able to choose an additional spell to know. Which was also useful, though no sign of any ¡®2nd Level¡¯ spells, which was unfortunate. The only other benefit was that they could use one of their ¡®bardic inspiration dice¡¯ to empower their spells, which was the only use that had been figured out for the things thus far. As far as anyone could otherwise tell, they didn¡¯t have much effect. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The Sorcerer was...stranger. Like the Cleric, he¡¯d apparently been denied some choice he should have been able to make the prior level due to the nature of their arrival, but instead of being a clerical domain, it was a ¡®bloodline¡¯ which empowered their magic. The choices were opaque to the point of being worrisome. Aberrant Mind, Shadow Magic, Draconic Bloodline, and Wild Magic were obviously out. Lunar Sorcery seemed too pagan for the poor man, and frankly, for Robert. That only left o options Storm Sorcery and Divine Soul. Without hesitation, the man went for Divine Soul, which seemed fair enough to Robert. The boxes then asked him to choose an ¡®affinity for the source of divine power¡¯ offering ¡®good,¡¯ ¡®evil,¡¯ law,¡¯ ¡®chaos,¡¯ and ¡®neutrality.¡¯ It took no prompting for the poor man to choose good. Which meant he gained the [Cure Wounds] spell. Besides small things, it was one of the two main healing spells they used, it was more powerful than the other [Healing Word], but you had to touch the injured man to cast [Cure Wounds] while [Healing Word] could be cast at a distance of thirty feet. Which had gone into their new formations. At least one man with [Healing Word] every 30 feet, to try to keep people hale and in the fight. The Sorcerer also gained an additional spell and was able to choose to replace one of his others, but this was in addition to the new spell, which seemed unfair to the poor Bard, but the boxes were under no obligation to be fair and given the choices they offered included evil and chaos, he was unsurprised by their lack. He also gained some strange power to roll more dice, which again, seemed thoroughly irrelevant. But for his second level trait, he gained some ¡®Sorcery Points¡¯ which could be used to regain a spell slot, and he gained an additional 1st Level spell slot. None of that was as critical as what the Clerics or Artificer had gained. Robert was curious what the Druid would gain, as they were the other class blessed to be able to choose their spells every day from a large list and the Wizards, who seemed quite unique. Indeed, one of the wizards had overcome his concern about the name of the spell [Find Familiar] and had asked about actually casting it. But since they lacked the brass brazier that was part of the material component and their charcoal supplies were very limited, so Robert wasn¡¯t willing to sacrifice 10 gold pieces worth of the materials in order to experiment. Unfortunately, both groups had relatively few people with serious experience, as they skewed more intellectual and were not eager to go running around in the woods, especially after the bird attack and the news of the Giant Spiders in the north. Fights about EXP and the various stats, as the men had heard their squadmates telling Simpkins what their intelligence, wisdom and strength all were, which no one had cared about at the time, but now were making use of, were breaking out. Not physical ones, thus far, but men were starting to believe the boxes, about the capabilities of their fellows, as well as about the skills the boxes gave. And those men with better statistics were strutting, while those with lesser were ashamed. It was easy to say all men were created equal and understand that that coexisted with some men being strong and others weak...but having explicit numerical rankings didn¡¯t help people believe that truth. The fact that none of the officers had leveled up didn¡¯t help matters, but Robert refused to use any of the boxes at this point, until he knew what was needed and what the next threat was. Fortunately, the new chaplain had leaned hard on the everyone equal point, and after a conversation with Robert had mostly managed to shame the men into focusing on the needs of the town, at least until a church could be built so they could all give thanks to the Lord for their salvation. But that had just pushed it subsurface and caused the men to focus on the design and construction of the church (which Robert sure wasn¡¯t letting be build until they took the small hills they called walls and gave them proper ramparts for firing down that someone couldn¡¯t just run up) which had brought forward the disagreements between sects, which he had managed to dump in the Mayor¡¯s lap for a change, as it surely wasn¡¯t a military question. The Mayor didn¡¯t understand the underlying issues and was confused by her involvement as they¡¯d all agreed at the town meeting that everyone would be free to worship as they pleased, but she managed their dispute quite well, Robert had heard, if mainly because she viciously forced them to explain the cause of the concern, then stared at them in total confusion until their attempts to justify how different they were and how important those differences were faded to naught in comparison to her own heathen ancestor worship. Which was actually a source of some discomfort with many. The goblins didn¡¯t proselytize, obviously, but the humans sure did, especially to their new recruits. And, to be fair, the good Lord could offer rather more than the goblin¡¯s ancestors, who could only offer a mesa home which had now been subjected to plague, famine and war. And certainly death, which completed the quadfecta of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse. And then there were constant, endless, complicated problems. How to get various things to the right places? Who had right of way? Who got to use the horse and the mule? Who got to use the axes? What was highest priority? What was highest priority for wood? For clay? Can we build earthen ovens, or should we focus on bricks? Who got what assignment (especially the potential EXP earning hunting/slaughtering assignments)? Could men switch assignments? Could men cover for one another if they were off? Could men go hunting on their own? What should the squad on duty in the field waiting for more arrivals be doing? Did they really get to just lie around while they were there? Shouldn¡¯t they be making improvements too? Didn¡¯t they need a midpoint watchtower that should be placed...hmm...right by Miss Silene¡¯s tree? Didn¡¯t they need a gate? How could they get more varied food? Why couldn¡¯t they swim in the river? Why did they have to keep so many men on guard duty? Why was the blacksmith focused on nails rather than more axes? With that in mind, he was actually pleased to be summoned to the top of the mesa to deal with some sort of actual military issue, rather than playing peacekeeper and problem solver and deputy Mayor. He really wished he could offload those decisions onto Mayor Varrarg, but she was clearly uncomfortable giving orders to humans and, frankly, didn¡¯t know enough about how surface towns work to make sensible decisions, which left...him. But now there was some actual problem. He was pleased right up until he got to the top of the mesa and looked to where the sentry was pointing. The river was broad and the figures weren¡¯t even at the river, but it was obvious that there was movement towards the river, and not the occasional individual fisherorc or orc seeking water the goblins had reported in the past, this was hundreds of figures. A small herd of some sort of herd animal, might have been sheep, or goats, or something altogether new, he couldn¡¯t tell. They had carts which were being pulled by people and maybe horses, or some other draft animal. At this distance, he was just assuming they were orcs based on what Varrarg had said. And, he reminded himself, he had no basis for believing all orcs were the same as the Storm Claws. There was no way to hide the village and the smoke rising from cooking fires, or the obvious walls, or the waterwheel rising above those walls. That didn¡¯t mean the orcs would put in the effort to cross the river, but looking past them to the hills that rose, rocky and rough and the obvious difficulty, even from this distance, they were having getting the carts down towards the river suggested they were going somewhere and putting a lot of effort into it. That didn¡¯t mean they would cross the river, rather than simply traveling along the riverbank. Though that wasn¡¯t the easiest travel route...regardless of the orcs intent, there was only one course of action, prepare. He considered for a moment and glanced at his watch, Sharts and Trip shouldn¡¯t have headed out yet this morning. And the sniper had by far the best eyes in the company. A quick messenger retrieved the young man, who was still nervous to be in his presence, which was endearing. ¡°C-C-Colonel, sir, you called for me?¡± Trip was also there, smirking at the stuttering boy, which was unfortunate, but Robert let it go. ¡°What do you see, Private?¡± he asked, gesturing. Sharts followed the line of his finger, then took a few steps forward, caught by Trip a moment before Robert moved to catch him, and two steps before he walked off the edge. Robert really needed to get fences put up around all the steep falls in town. A man had actually fallen down one of the wells two nights back. Fortunately, they¡¯d hauled him out and healed him up in moments, and that¡¯s how he¡¯d discovered there was a gray market in mushroom beer, which the goblins apparently brewed. Which at least let him make a deal for that, swap the Alchemy Jug for a second set of Sending Stones and send one out to the field and the other out with hunting parties, rather than trusting the field force to handle itself. He watched the man¡¯s face twist and Trip looked as well. Trip didn¡¯t see what Sharts did, anymore than Robert did. ¡°What do you see, Private?¡± Robert repeated. ¡°Cages,¡± the boy¡¯s voice was cold and for once he didn¡¯t stammer over his Cs. ¡°I need more information.¡± ¡°Orcs, lots of ¡®em. Horses. Sheep. Some goats. One b-b-big goat. C-c-carts. Some have cages on ¡®em. Humans too.¡± ¡°Armed?¡± ¡°C-c-can¡¯t tell.¡± ¡°Anyone in the cages?¡± ¡°Not now.¡± Robert¡¯s eyes flickered as he considered. ¡°Private Sharts, you¡¯re on watch. Sergeant Trip, step up the hunting. If we need to withstand a siege, I want to be fat and happy.¡± Both saluted and Robert went to put Simpkins on the other jobs which needed doing. Building a blind up top to shield observers and getting more sharp eyed men to support Sharts, as well as a signaler, in case of weird magical nonsense. Then he went to talk to Mayor Varrarg. There were few options and not enough information, but they had to prepare. So prepare they would.