Ogre Tyrant

Chapter 20 – Will to live – Part Two

Chapter 20 - Will to live - Part Two

The army’s camp rapidly became a bustling hive of activity as soldiers and sleds full of materials and supplies began appearing from the portal. It now made sense why so many junior officers had been sent through first, as Col. Klive, Cpt. Felix and a few other senior ranking officers began assigning junior officers to organize the new arrivals and maintain a sense of order amidst the mounting chaos.

“Lord?” One of my dozen Serpent-kin escorts had stepped forward on behalf of the others, “What iss your will?” Every one of them looked up at me determinedly, as if trying to show they were ready to take the fight to the enemy if I ordered it, even Vishek, who was already poisoned.

Wearing only crude hide armour, it was already a miracle that only one of them had been injured so far. With that in mind, I had no desire to lead them into further danger. A defensive footing would be our best option. If we could buy time, perhaps Toofy could make the armour and weapons we needed in order to launch an offensive of our own that wouldn’t be doomed to extensive losses.

Even as I considered it, the thought of barricading ourselves in, it seemed...wrong, like it was exactly what the enemy wanted us to do...

My attention drifted for a moment while I was lost in thought, and without realising it, I had begun to stare at the East. The expeditionary force was expected back sometime in the next couple of days. But why would seven humans and a monster matter to the enemy? Sure, Ushu had been a de facto leader of his people, so kidnapping or killing him might demoralize them...But that didn’t feel right.

Trying to push me onto the defensive so they could deal with seven humans seemed stupid considering the sheer number of humans arriving by portal every passing minute...Then it clicked, “The girls aren’t alone...” I breathed in surprise. The only reason I could think of for the enemy wanting to keep us on the defensive, was to deal with another force without interference.

The number of adventurers they must have rescued from the raided foothold must have been truly substantial if the ‘Bright Lord’ viewed them as a credible threat. I needed to let Col. Klive know about this. At the least, a relief force needed to be organised to provide aid in seeing them to safety.

“Wait here,” I told my escorts, straightening my back and injecting as much confidence into my tone as I could muster. Public speaking wasn’t something I had ever considered myself particularly good at, but for whatever reason, I had noticed that I was far less anxious about it lately. I suppose that it was probably to be expected when you had so many people worshipping the ground you walk on.

Projecting an air of confidence I didn’t really feel but pressed on by necessity and urgency, I strode through the human war camp like I owned the place. Head and shoulders taller than even the tallest armoured soldiers, few didn’t make a point of clearing a path as I headed towards Col. Klive, and those who didn’t were hurriedly dragged away by their fellows.

As such, Col. Klive saw me coming long before I cleared the milling throng of soldiers and junior officers milling about in his general vicinity. He waved them off and made his way over towards me, the soldiers and officers falling in line behind him as if they expected me to do something stupid, violent, or likely both.

“You need to send a relief team to recover my people and those travelling with them,” I stated bluntly and pointed to the east. “I believe the enemy is trying to cut them off and kill them before turning their attention to us.”

Col. Klive came up somewhat short and seemed somewhat surprised, “You are sure?” He asked hesitantly, “I know you may think quite highly of your friends, but-”

“I think they rescued more adventurers than I had initially expected. Or maybe...maybe they found more refugees,” I shook my head somewhat uncertainly, “In either case, I want them rescued and brought to safety.”

The Colonel, surrounding officers and soldiers all stiffened slightly as my quest notification appeared in front of each of their eyes. The conditions were simple. Rescue the expeditionary force in addition to any refugees, human or otherwise.

Capable of viewing the quest details myself, I was surprised to find a crude map accompanying this quest, along with a faintly glowing marker. The only cause I could find for the marker, was that perhaps Ushu’s ward was allowed to serve as a homing device for allies in very specific circumstances.

“Sir?” A woman in her early thirties with short clipped auburn hair and intense blue eyes stepped forward. “Me and my boys can find a path through this swamp no problem! If you can give me Kristof and a company of men, we can see this mission through no worries!” She insisted, her leather armour making almost no sound despite her animated request.

Col. Klive nodded and looked around the surrounding crowd before settling his attention on a tall broad-shouldered soldier in chain and gambeson, “Cpt. Kristof, get a company of men together and prepare to sortie. You have command, but Lt. Rooke has operational mobility. Understood?”

“Understood, sir!” Cpt. Kristof thumped the left side of his chest with his right fist before turning to the camp at large. “SECOND COMPANY! FORM UP ON ME! MOVE IT MOVE IT MOVE IT!” He barked while heading towards a relatively clear space near the gap in the briar wall.

The blue-eyed woman, Lt. Rooke, grinned and headed towards the gap in the briar wall as well. Instead of calling out for her subordinates, she instead placed her finger and thumb in her mouth and released a distinctive piercing whistle. As Lt. Rooke made her own way over to the same mustering grounds as Cpt. Kristof, a couple of dozen men and women in similar armour, armed with bows, bucklers and shortswords fell into step behind her.

I turned my attention back to Col. Klive. “I need to head back to my people. There are things I still need to prepare,” I explained somewhat vaguely, although I honestly doubted he needed a detailed itinerary given our present situation.

Col. Klive nodded, “Of course. I will have Cpt. Felix and his men escort you and your honor guard back to Sanctuary.”

Cpt. Felix had already been waiting nearby, so despite his initial surprise, he was quickly able to gather around fifty soldiers to escort us back to Sanctuary.

As a small sign of gratitude, I issued another quest specifically for Cpt. Felix and his soldiers. Even though the travel distance was negligible, the very real possibility of dangers out in the fog would probably help reinforce the value of my goodwill in the projected conflicts ahead. Bonus Exp to boost your Class levels and augment your stats was probably no small boon for a rank and file infantryman. Furthermore, despite not being an expert in military matters, I was fairly certain that at least a third of Col. Klive’s newly arrived soldiers were fresh recruits.

It was mostly little things at first, like how young some of them seemed to be, or their relative sluggishness in following orders despite constant reminders from nearby officers. Again I wondered what the political landscape was like outside of the Labyrinth. Was Col Klive simply making the best of a rare opportunity? Or was there more to his eager opportunism than I had initially suspected?

The Asrus kingdom didn’t show any blatant signs of sexual discrimination from what I had seen thus far. Although the women were outnumbered roughly eight to one, that was actually a higher enlistment rate than my home country, and the same ratio seemed to be the case in the ranks of the officers too. But without another country's army to compare this to, I didn’t know if this should be taken as ‘normal’ or not.

Before we left the camp, Col. Klive also gave Cpt. Felix orders to pack down the other camp and transfer everyone and everything over to the new base. An understandably pragmatic decision given the circumstances.

With an armed escort shielding my original escort and myself from harm, we made it back to Sanctuary without any incidents. Leaving Cpt. Felix to his other duties, I reentered Sanctuary proper.

Hana had set two of her Wood Wyrds to serve as both guards and improvised barricades for the gatehouse. They did a good job of it, their large gnarled bodies efficiently blocking the space and blending into the large gatehouse tree itself at the same time.

There were also a dozen Deep Orcs and close to three times as many Serpent-kin standing guard or lightly resting near the gate as well. Our return, or perhaps mine, seemed to give them a great deal of relief.

Leaving my escorts behind to explain events to their fellows, I headed off towards the mineshaft. Besides the sky, the gate and the mineshaft were the two ways I knew that enemies could get into Sanctuary, so they were my top priority.

There seemed to be nothing to worry about. Either Hana or one of the other Druids had apparently decided it would be safer not to risk it and simply collapsed and sealed the tunnel.

I was about to head off towards the cooking fires to get something to eat, but stopped as I heard the sound of clashing metal coming from the southern end of Sanctuary. To my surprise, we were not under attack. In fact, as I drew closer to investigate the sounds, I found that the Deep Orc’s had managed to make some sort of primitive smithy.

Blacksmithing was not something I had ever really paid all that much attention to on Earth. Besides making and fitting horseshoes, I didn’t think anyone still had much of a practical use for it anymore. However, just from watching the trio of Deep Orc smiths diligently set about their work, I really wish I had paid more attention, even a single online video may have been a huge help to these primitive smiths.

Rather than the cast iron anvils that were easily recognisable from cartoons, the smiths had made do by spiking moderately sized pieces of iron into a large stump. Watching the smiths work, I think I vaguely recalled having seen a similar primitive anvil in a Viking documentary or something. Not that it mattered, the smiths seemed fully capable of working with what they had, showing no signs of smelting down and casting a larger anvil from the impressive pile of iron ingots stacked near the forge.

Judging by the small pile of what I assumed were completed pieces, the smiths were in the process of making more crude armour plates.

I briefly considered tasking the smiths with making me some armour, but I dismissed the idea for now. In my last fight, a clean blow to my back hadn’t even broken the skin. So the prospect of taking armour away from those who could benefit far more from its protection left a bad taste in my mouth.

A helmet wouldn’t be a bad idea, but the visor was the part I would see the most use out of. That actually gave me an idea, so I hurried off towards the Grove, in search of Toofy.

As I had expected, Ril was swimming lazily in the fountain, while Toofy paddled her feet from the fountain’s edge.

“Good morning Toofy, Ril,” I smiled and waved at them as I drew closer.

“Tim!” Toofy nimbly hopped up onto the lip of the fountain and then jumped at me.

I caught Toofy before she could fall and gave her a hug. It felt like ages since I had last done that.

*Splash*

I looked up just in time to see that Ril had launched herself out of the water. Thankfully, she seemed to have more than enough propulsion to make it on her own.

Giving them both another quick hug, I walked over to the fountain and sat down.

After a few moments, Ril let go and wriggled back into the water, but Toofy seemed content to just sit with me for a while.

Unfortunately, I didn't know when I would next be needed, so despite wanting nothing more than to just sit with Toofy and enjoy the silence, I had preparations to make. “Toofy?” I prompted softly.

“Mm?” Toofy shifted so she could peer up at me with both eyes.

“Do you think you could make a mask out of wood?” I asked hopefully.

Toofy gave me a strange look and then shrugged, “What is mask?”

“Ah...” That would be a problem. I had kind of hoped that Toofy already knew... “Well...A mask is like a disguise, a face that you can wear over your own face so people don’t recognise you.”

Toofy gave me a dubious look.

“It’s kind of like this,” I held both hands over my face and peeked at Toofy through the gaps in my fingers. “Only instead of hands, it would look like someone's face, or maybe like an animal face instead.”

“Ohhh,” Toofy nodded and scratched her chin, “Like the scary face on the tree?” she pointed to the Totem tree and the scary face we had carved in it.

I nodded, “You just have to make sure it has holes so you can see and breathe.”

Toofy shrugged, “Kay, Toofy do,” A lump of wood almost as large as herself appeared in her hands. A moment after having appeared, the lump of wood disappeared and was replaced by a large grotesque plaque featuring the grinning face from the totem.

I tried using her in her first attempt to better explain the concept, and to my surprise, Toofy just about nailed it on her second try.

Now roughly conforming to the shape of my face and head, the mask provided vision through the vertical eye slits and allowed breathing through the small gaps between the spiked teeth. Since the face on the totem didn’t have a nose, Toofy had simply curved that portion of the mask in order to accommodate my nose.

The only thing missing was a means to tie it to my head, but I should be able to figure something out on my own. Besides, I had just realised that there was something I needed to work on that was far more important.

If open conflict were to break out at this point, fighting alongside the human soldiers would be incredibly dangerous. So far as I had seen so far, there were no obvious ways of telling my people apart from the enemies at our gates. Ideally, full-body identifiers of allegiance would be preferable, but we didn’t have the money for that. Not yet anyway.

We needed some way of marking everyone in a visible yet preferably non-harmful way. I kept coming back to coloured bands on cloth tied onto an arm or perhaps around the head, but it just didn’t seem like enough. There had to be something more obvious that could be done, I just couldn’t think of what it was.

Given the limited materials on hand, there wasn’t anything I could think of that our enemies couldn’t mimic passably with only a little effort. It was incredibly frustrating. Worse, should any fighters on our side be killed or captured, the enemy could always steal those differentiators and wreak havoc all over again.

After wracking my brain for more than a half-hour, I shook my head and accepted the fact that there was no perfect solution to be found. After waving goodbye to Toofy and Ril, I headed off towards the garlic field, although that section of Sanctuary should probably be called a farm since the Druids were growing all manner of spices and edible plants over there.

Explaining to Qreet what I wanted was surprisingly easy, and she managed to ‘grow’ a sturdy pole and cross beam for my prospective Warbanner. I would have had Qreet attempt weaving the banner part itself as well, but I was planning on using something less flammable. Besides, with enemies just outside Sanctuary’s walls, I didn’t want to distract the Druids from their important work in helping to stockpile fresh food in case of a prolonged siege.

Heading back to the Grove, I waved at Ril and Toofy in passing before heading down into the holding cells and consulting with the imprisoned vendor. After assessing all my options, I decided on the cheapest, and bought a sheet of light brown Niffleweed fabric roughly three feet wide and four feet tall, as well as a large vial of Bileberry Ichor, which the vendor assured me was a potent dark purple dye. For whatever reason, the vendor flat-out refused to dye the design onto the panel of fabric, which unfortunately left the task to me instead.

Returning to the grove, I made an improvised paintbrush from a sturdy twig and some fraying rope. I had barely managed to draft the outline with some charcoal, when Toofy decided I needed help. My initial fears of her wasting the expensive dye were largely unfounded. In fact, despite a couple of stray drops early on, Toofy’s natural agility ensured an altogether more faithful expression of the original than I could expect to manage on my own.

Leaving the last of the dye with Toofy as thanks for her help, I tied the fabric to the staves prepared by Qreet earlier and then took it to the eastern gate. As much as I wanted to demonstrate favour equally amongst my subjects, the particular phrasing regarding the magical properties of the banner made it clear that a Deep Orc would be the best choice to make sure the banner did not fall. To that end, I chose the largest amongst those at the gate to bear it.

As the Deep Orc took hold of the banner, the intense focus in his eyes shifted in a way that was now all too familiar to me.

“What is your name?” I demanded while calling up Sanctuary’s registry in my mind.

“Kurg, Lord,” The Deep Orc lowered his head in a sign of submission.

Inviting Kurg to my retinue, I was not surprised to see that he had taken the Grappling Pugilist Advanced Class. Skipping through the bulk of his Status, I found what I was looking for.

[Class Qualifications: Grappler, Pugilist, Banner Bearer. ]

“Do you see a Class confirmation screen?” I asked excitedly, “Like before, when you unlocked the Grappling Pugilist?”

Kurg slowly shook his head, “No, Lord,” he replied dejectedly.

So the Banner Bearer Class was Basic or Advanced? Otherwise, Kurg would have been given the chance to take it. Turning my attention briefly to the registry again, I was somewhat disappointed to find that all of the Deep Orcs had either already taken an Advanced Class, or were newly hatched children.

“Erm, my Lord?” A relatively old Serpent-kin interrupted, stepping forward from the gathered volunteers guarding the gate. Missing his right eye and bearing a large disfiguring scar that covered the right side of his face, the middle-aged Serpent-kin was still slightly larger than his peers. “I would be honoured to bear your banner into battle againsst your enemiess!” He clasped his hands together and bowed his head.

“What is your name?” I asked curiously.

“My name iss, Hesk, my Lord,” the older Serpent-kin replied unwaveringly, his lone remaining eye staring stoically back at me as I looked him over again.

Like all of the Serpent-kin, Hesk was comparatively frail by human standards, and practically skin and bones compared to the Deep Orc’s or myself. By the standards of the Serpent-kin, Hesk was not just slightly taller, but more robust than the others as well. Furthermore, the other volunteers had not seemed surprised when Hesk stepped forward.

Unlike most Serpent-kin in Sanctuary, Hesk was apparently also amongst the few who had not chosen to attempt progressing to an Advanced Class, or perhaps hadn’t been able to... Taking a minute to think about it, Hesk did seem somewhat familiar. Disfiguring scars were not uncommon amongst the Serpent-kin refugees, at least two in ten had scars as large or larger than my hand, and one in twenty had lost a digit, or in Hesk’s case, an eye.

“Why have you not taken an Advanced Class?” I asked, feeling that his answer would be the determining factor in whether I left the banner in his or Kurg’s care.

Hesk nodded his head in understanding, “Ushu ssaid opportunitiess to sserve would appear for thosse who would wait. I am ready to sserve ass you ssee fit, my Lord.”

The gathered crowd of Serpent-kin all nodded in confirmation.

The respect the other Serpent-kin afforded Hesk made my choice that much easier. From what little I knew of medieval history, being chosen to bear the banner of your Lord was meant to be a high honour. It made sense to choose someone for the job that others already respected.

Taking the banner back from Kurg, I laid a hand on his shoulder, “I am not doing this because I lack faith in your abilities. I am only trying to do what is best for our people. Do you understand?” The last thing I wanted was to foment discord through unchecked petty rivalries and misunderstandings.

Kurg hung his head and nodded disappointedly, “Clan comes first,” he agreed, “Kurg or other, no matter. Clan is stronger, Clan survives, all that matters.”

Unsure what to say to that, I just nodded and handed the banner to Hesk instead.

With only a moment's hesitation, Hesk accepted the banner. “Acssept,” he hissed excitedly.

Almost immediately, I felt a strange calmness wash over me. Judging by the subtle change in the others gathered around us, I was certain I wasn’t the only one.

Knowing that my banner’s Ability was related to reducing damage taken by allies, I was curious about the Class Abilities of the Banner Bearer. Specifically which of them was responsible for the all to welcome sense of calm I now felt.

[(Class Ability: Hold the Line {Rank 0}): Inspires calm in Allies. Allies within range are more resistant to {Stress}. {Presence} increases the range of the effect.]

[(Class Ability: Stand Firm {Rank 0}): The Bearer falls before the Banner, or not at all. Resist {Sleep}, {Fatigue} and {Exhaustion} while bearing the Banner. Expend MP to ignore injuries for a time. {Toughness} increases the effects.]

Reading the abilities aloud for the benefit of Hesk and the others present, I was surprised when after I was finished, another Serpent-kin stepped forward.

“I would bear your banner ass well Lord!” The second Serpent-kin was far younger than Hesk, but seemed no less determined.

I was going to explain how I could only create one special banner for the time being but stopped myself as I considered something I hadn’t originally thought of. The Banner Bearer Class only required me to present a minion with a banner. There was no reason why I couldn’t just make another one, or, better yet, have the two of them share responsibility for the special banner linked to my Class Ability. With two Banner Bearers taking care to keep the banner out of enemy hands and inspiring our allies, the burden would be lighter than just one of them bearing it alone.

“What is your name?” I asked somewhat cagily, trying to keep my thoughts to myself while judging his character.

The younger Serpent-kin grinned, “I am Hessik, Lord!”

I looked a little closer at Hessik, then back at Hesk.

“Hessik is my younger ssibling, Lord,” Hesk explained, very likely guessing the purpose of my comparison.

I had some trouble telling some Serpent-kin apart. The differences in their facial bone structure seemed minimal, and they all had the same coloured hair and eyes. Some had more prominent patterns on their scales than others, but the younger Serpent-kins lacked most of those patterns altogether. Considering the relatively limited gene pool, the similarities weren't exactly surprising, just frustrating sometimes. As an outsider, I didn’t have much of a choice besides just taking Hesk’s word for it.

“My own Class Ability is dependent on the banner being prominently displayed and kept out of enemy hands. While I have no expectations for you to fight alone to defend the banner, a second bearer would help ensure not only that my Ability remains active, but the benefits of the Banner Bearer Class remain active as well.” I gave them a few moments to think over my explanation before pressing the issue itself, “Would you be prepared to share the responsibility of bearing this banner?” I asked Hesk. As the first to take up the Class, it didn’t feel right to split his duties with someone else, even a sibling, without his consent.

Hesk grew contemplative and pointedly ignored the pleading look of his younger brother Hessik. After two minutes of deep thinking, he seemed to have come to a decision. “I will share this duty,” Hesk stated, still ignoring his younger brother, who was now grinning eagerly. He held out the banner for me to take it back.

Accepting the banner, I then held it out for Hessik to take.

However, just as Hessik was about to take hold of the banner, Hesk took a firm grip of his younger brother’s arm and held him back. “There iss no turning back from thiss. You will prove worthy of it, or I will make ssure you do!” He hissed, the ominous threat lingering and dampening his younger brother’s enthusiasm somewhat.

“I am ssure!” Hessik replied after taking a few moments to build up his nerve again.

Hesk nodded and released his brother’s arm, allowing him to accept the banner.

After confirming that Hessik had taken the Banner Bearer Class as well, I gave them both an order and permission, to select ten other minions to help protect the banner. I would invite them all into my retinue later, after the brothers had made their final selection. Making sure the Banner Bearers got as much Exp as possible in any conflict seemed like a really good idea given the widespread benefits they offered. All the more important because both Hesk and Hessik were now very low level and without real combat Abilities of their own.

Looking for Lash, I found her back over by the smiths, who were now surrounded by an industrious workforce of Serpent-kin. While the Deep Orc smiths worked iron into armoured plates, the Serpent-kin were busily fabricating hide tunics, bracers, and kilts.

After watching for a few minutes, it soon became obvious why. The armoured plates were not for the Deep Orcs, but for the Serpent-kin. What I had earlier assumed to be plates intended for Deep Orc pauldrons were actually plates intended to serve as a protective chest plate for the much smaller Serpent-kin.

Taking a closer look, I could now see that the plates were much thinner and lighter. No doubt thick enough to still turn a blade, a crossbow bolt may still penetrate it at close enough range. Still, it was nice to see the Deep Orcs weren’t selfishly hoarding the iron for themselves. Especially since the Serpent-kin were making do with wooden weapons.

In the midst of the feverish efforts of mass production was Lash. She was so absorbed in her efforts in both explaining and demonstrating to the Serpent-kin workforce how to put together armour from the materials at hand, that Lash didn’t notice me standing a few feet away. That is until the nervous staring of her workforce made my presence obvious.

“Tim,” Lash grinned and pulled me in for a kiss.

Expecting a short peck on the lips, I was surprised when it lasted more than a few seconds, although I certainly wasn’t going to complain about it. As embarrassed as I felt by the display of public affection, it actually seemed to bolster the workers' fervour as they returned to their work. Or perhaps it was simply because of my presence itself...It was hard to think just at the moment.

“Have been showing how to make armour,” Lash purred, her hand lingering on my arm as she expansively waved at the immediate surroundings with the other. “Clan did not always have metal for armour. Young are taught to make protection from soulless bones, hide, teeth and claws...” Her voice grew quieter and somewhat pained. Before I had the chance to ask Lash what was wrong, she roughly cleared her throat and dragged me towards the smiths. “You need a helmet,” Lash insisted brusquely, “I will make.”

“Lash, wait,” I pulled back, drawing us both to a halt, “I had Toofy make me a mask to protect my eyes already. We don’t have much iron, so I would rather see it do more good elsewhere-”

Lash narrowed her eyes at me critically, but she said nothing.

Feeling like I had to at least make some effort to convince her, I pulled the mask up from around my neck and fitted it onto my face. While the eye slits restricted my horizontal plane of vision somewhat, I seriously doubted an opponent would have much luck slashing at my eyes or of any splinters making it through the mask at all.

*Thwack*

Without warning, Lash had planted an armoured fist in my face. The momentum of the blow caused me to stagger, but besides a small amount of pain in my cheeks and forehead, I was none the worse for wear.

Lash gnawed her lip and nodded, but it was obvious she still held a number of reservations.

“I could still use a hide cap or maybe a bone one to protect my head,” I suggested as a sort of compromise. While I hadn’t really faced a significant enough threat to warrant it thus far, I was willing to wear something made of more plentiful materials if it would help set Lash’s mind at ease. After all, despite the fact that she was currently walking around in what was obviously freshly forged armour herself, I had already witnessed first-hand how easily that armour could be bypassed. “And I want you to use a shield.”

Lash gave me a curious look and then began to smile again.

“A big one,” I insisted, already formulating a requisition quest for Qreet, Hana or one of the other Druids to fulfil when available. As much as I had become accustomed to not using one, I needed a shield to better distract and engage as many enemies as possible. Not to mention provide cover against those crossbows.

“Okay,” Lash agreed, “I will make armour of hide and bone instead.”

Even though it was not exactly what I had agreed to, I was fine with the compromise. After all, running around in some sort of savage-looking bone armour would probably help in intimidating our enemies, even if it didn’t provide much actual protection.

Lash spent the better part of the day instructing the Serpent-kin volunteers in how to make each piece of a full hide armour reinforced with all manner of different bones collected from different monsters.

Using the late afternoon light to check my reflection in the fishing pond, I was incredibly impressed with how truly savage the completed armour made my overall appearance. While the armour did take some effort to get in and out of, the weight was pretty much negligible. A thick hide cord that served as my belt made sure that the bulk of the weight was being carried on my shoulders and hips.

Even the temperature was pretty bearable. Consisting of a helmet, jerkin, bracers and greaves, the armour actually gave my body a reasonable amount of surface area to breathe. For most people, those exposed areas would be considered weaknesses or vulnerabilities, but for me, the armour was mostly for aesthetics anyway so it didn’t matter.

There was actually some good news as well. The first shipment of scavenged equipment had been organised and delivered to the gate.

While it offered the opportunity for me to try out a full set of Deep Orc plate armour, I actually wasn’t all that interested. Instead, I left a standing order that all iron weapons and armour be set to the smiths to make sure they were fit for use. With the priority on providing armour and weapons for as many people as possible, the smiths had my permission to reforge anything they deemed to be in surplus.

That was actually something I found rather surprising. Despite the forges being handled by only three Deep Orcs, apparently just about every Deep Orc in Sanctuary knew at least the basics of the craft, even the newly hatched children. What the Labyrinth chose to impart to each monstrous species as standard knowledge was rather bizarre. In the case of the Deep Orcs, it heavily suggested their adaptation to the underground of this floor and the presence of the Clay Dolls was no accident.

It really made me curious. Did Toofy know how to make things as well? Thinking back on the incredibly crude clothing and armour she had managed to patch together before we found her, I was thinking that she probably did. So what was with the Serpent-kin? I had yet to see them do anything particularly noteworthy as of yet. Or was their special knowledge much more generalised, encompassing the majority of tribal living? It was hard to say.

Before I had the chance to question one of the Serpent-kin for answers, a disturbance by the gate seized my attention.

As I began making my way over to the gate, I felt a mounting sense of dread. Even the presence of Hesk and the banner didn’t seem like quite enough to drive it back fully. “What is going on?!” I demanded.

“It is the Usurper!” Growled Kurg, shakily waving his axe towards the gate, although whether it was in anger or fear was unclear, “The Bright Lord!”

“** *** ** *** *** ***** ** ***** **** **, **** **** ******** ***** ** ** ***! ** *** **** ******!” As if having waited for his cue, a deep low voice called out a message from a short distance beyond the gate. I didn’t understand a word of what was said, but the language sounded eerily familiar all the same.

“Open the gate,” I commanded, taking my morningstar from my belt and limbering up my shoulder before taking up my newly completed shield. Reminiscent of my first shield, it was three-quarters of my own height, nearly as wide as me, and three inches thick. The outer facing was covered in thick thorns and barbs, while the inner facing was padded with thick moss. “Open the gate!” I repeated firmly. This was a chance to better understand the capabilities of our enemy and perhaps to take him out entirely. I was not going to let such an opportunity pass by uncontested.

The Wood Wyrds slowly began to part, giving me my first look at what lay beyond.

Having expected a small army at the least, I was confused when I saw a lone armoured figure roughly fifty feet from the gate patiently waiting out in the open. Despite the fog present everywhere else, the armoured figure’s presence seemed to have driven it back a short distance, leaving them incredibly exposed.

Waving back the Deep Orcs and Serpent-kins, I pressed forward alone. I recognised the armour of the enemy and had almost no doubt as to their intent in wearing it. After all, what sort of edgelord would unironically wear such armour and call themselves the Bright Lord?

The Bright Lord had all but confirmed that he was an Awakened. The ‘borrowed’ armour design from a popular fantasy film franchise, coupled with his choice in title, made it painfully obvious. Which was perhaps what he intended.

As I drew closer, I made sure to keep a wary eye on the distant fog banks. At the first sign of an ambush, I would retreat back to the gate. This was a fact-finding mission first and foremost.

The spiky edgelord I was all but convinced was another awakened waited until I was only ten feet away before suddenly raising one gauntleted hand. “****!” He demanded with the same commanding tone as before.

I felt a faint tug at the edge of my mind, the briefest desire to kneel down before him, but it quickly passed.

[ You have successfully resisted a {Necromantic Curse}]

Blinking away the black Status Alert, I grit my teeth and lamented the fact that I didn’t have a bladed weapon with which to hack the large gaudy ring from the stranger's finger.

The spiky armoured Awakened seemed genuinely shocked that his sneak attack had failed. An all too familiar looking and objectively oversized flanged mace appeared in his hands.

I had drawn close enough now to realize I had made a small mistake. This Awakened was not wearing armour made of iron or steel, but blackened bones. In spite of myself, I still felt like I should have expected as much given the prefix that had accompanied his attempted curse.

As much as I detested someone who had committed so much wanton slaughter, the thought of killing someone else in the same situation as myself still didn’t sit well with me. Despite the knowledge of what this person had done and was intending to do, I wanted to believe I could find another solution besides killing him.

“Enough!” I growled angrily, “Did you really just call me out here to attempt an ambush?”

The armoured figure made no reply, but he seemed genuinely surprised by what I had said.

“Anyone with eyes can tell your borrowed look and name combined make it obvious that you want to be recognised. But is that because you want to find others like us? Or is it because this is what you do when you think the rules no longer apply to you?!” I demanded scathingly.

The Dark Lord impersonator took a half step back before stopping himself. “Ktch! I’ll make you pay for that!” A reedy voice whined from within the darkness of the spiked helmet. “I have powers you couldn’t even dream of! A simpering oaf like you, all brawn and no brains has no business giving me a lecture on morality!”

Now only five feet from the other awakened, I hardened my heart and prepared to end it. “What you are doing is wrong! There is no possible excuse for it!” I hissed, tightening my grip on both my shield and morningstar.

“NO EXCUSE?!” He shrieked angrily, “EVERY FUCKING DAY! WITHOUT EXCEPTION! PEOPLE LIKE YOU MADE MY LIFE A LIVING HELL!” He began to visibly tremble, the armoured black plates of bone-rattling ominously, “BUT NOW IT IS MY TURN! I’LL SHOW YOU WHAT REAL STRENGTH IS!” A black mist erupted from within his armour and enveloped me before I had the chance to react.

[ You have successfully resisted a {Necromantic Curse}]

*Whap Crunch*

The Awakened had momentarily disappeared, only to reappear behind me, his flanged mace smacking into the small of my back, cracking and breaking the bones tied to my hide jerkin, but otherwise dealing no damage.

I retaliated with a sweeping strike of my own, but my morningstar passed through his body as if he wasn’t there. A half-second later, he disappeared and then immediately reappeared in my right flank again.

*Whap Crunch*

More bones shattered, but I ignored them. Was he really this stupid? I gathered most of my remaining mana and awakened the thunder lying dormant within my veins. Feinting a shield bash into the alleged Bright Lord’s chest, I ignored the fact that my shield met with no resistance and immediately backhanded my morningstar into my blindspot.

*BOOM*

Black splinters of bone flew everywhere as the BrightLord tumbled head over heels across the ground.

Staggering to his feet, The Bright lord appeared to be breathing heavily, but then he began to laugh. Far from sounding like he was happy or enjoying himself, the braying laughter sounded deranged...unhinged. “You aren’t as stupid as I thought you would be! But it doesn’t matter! There is no way the likes of you could possibly defeat me! ARISE!”

Nine ghostlike apparitions rose up from the black fog, their features hidden behind billowing shadows.

The temperature dropped almost immediately, hoar frost crystallizing on the ground and chilling the air to the point that my breath turned to steam.

On a primal level, I understood that I couldn’t let these creatures touch me. As the first apparition raced towards me, I swatted at it with my morningstar.

*BOOM*

The Wraith shrieked in fury and evaporated into nothingness.

However, while I had been distracted by the first, another had approached from my blindspot.

A surge of white-hot agony flared down the length of my back on my left side, a pervading numbness immediately following in its wake.

*Boom*

Despite the minimal momentum of my shield, it was apparently enough to trigger the effects of Thundering Strikes, driving away the second Wraith and causing its form to dissipate into nothingness.

[Tim - HP: 50*/56 - Enervated (50/50) ]

Even though I didn’t fully understand how the Wraith had managed to hurt me, I wasn’t stupid enough to linger and find out. Especially since the other Awakened had somehow already disappeared. With no reason to continue fighting, and almost no mana left in reserve, I turned back towards Sanctuary’s gate and fled.

*Boom*

The impact of my first stride striking the ground activated the last of the Thundering Strikes mana, propelling me dangerously forward, narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with one of the Wraiths. Feeling my right knee strain from the excess force, as I landed and continued forward, I very nearly barrelled into the trio of young Serpent-kin that were rushing out of the gate.

Each of the Serpent-kin was holding what looked like small wooden toys, however, as they each cloaked themselves in ashen coloured mana, their significance quickly became obvious.

“BANISH!” The trio cried in unison, their collective mana racing outwards and towards the oncoming wraiths like a wave.

Even before the wave hit them, the Wraiths struck the invisible wall of Sanctuary's barrier. While it did not stop them, their movements became comically slow as they struggled to make even the slightest headway, like ants entombed in honey. However, as the Serpent-kins collective mana washed over them, the Wraiths howled and shrieked like they had been doused in acid, their incorporeal forms steadily dissolving into nothing.

Staggering backwards and resting against the gate, I lamented having given the enemy the opportunity to showcase his abilities. I should have been more aggressive, put him down hard then and there rather than trying to talk to him...

Jacque was right, the Awakened were unrepentant killers, and if I wanted to protect my people, I needed to treat the Awakened accordingly.

*****

“I need a tourniquet!” Nadine called out hoarsely, her blood slick hands already occupied with clamping the unfortunate Goblin’s severed elbow shut. “USHU?!” She cried out exasperatedly as he made no signs of moving. “USHU!”

The Serpent-kin Shaman was standing deathly still, a fistful of mana stones disintegrating in one hand and the mana stone serving as the focus for his Ward flickering dangerously dark in the other.

“Can help?!” Another wounded Goblin staggered to her feet, ignoring the bloody mess that was the left side of her face.

Nadine very nearly forced the Goblin back down to rest, but she stopped herself at the last moment. “Bring me some cord, rope, anything! I need to tie off this wound before he bleeds to death!”

The Goblin nodded and hurriedly snatched a corded belt from another wounded Goblin.

“Tie off the wound!” Nadine hissed, her fingers slipping from all the blood.

The Goblin looped the cord around the ragged bloody stump and pulled it tight before tying it off.

Gasping in relief, she staggered back to dry off her hands on an already bloodied rag. There was no spirits, moss sap or even clean water left. The best Nadine could manage now was removing the worst of the blood from her hands before sewing the arteries and wound shut. She had unlocked a mass cleansing Ability earlier when the fighting broke out, but Nadine simply didn’t have the MP to spare in order to use it. Even with every damned mana potion confiscated from the Guild, it wasn’t enough. Nadine was barely managing to stay ahead of the curve by practising emergency triage.

She had done her best to put the fighting out of mind, but Nadine could still hear it going strong beyond the makeshift walls of her open air field hospital. Consisting of nothing more than upright sleds originally made from the scavenged remains of the ship and its cargo containers, the sporadic impacts of crossbow bolts and arrows outside proved their necessity.

With near mechanical detachment and efficiency, Nadine sutured the wounded Goblin’s injuries and then transferred him off the large crate serving as her operating table. Currently waiting on the previous mana potion to restore another point of MP, Nadine mentally adjusted her running priority for healing and prepared to receive her next patient.

The female Goblin from earlier offered Nadine a slightly cleaner rag. “Rifi help,” she insisted, pushing the rag into Nadine’s hands.

Somewhat touched by the gesture, Nadine accepted the rag and removed as much of the drying blood as she was able.

“Healer! I need a Healer!” A booming voice demanded. A few moments later a large man in blood-spattered mail entered Nadine's hospital, his eyes almost immediately fixing upon her. “You! Healer! You're coming with me!” The man demanded, already moving towards Nadine with an imminent air of violence about him.

“No!” Nadine flatly refused. This was not the first adventurer or Guild lacky that had attempted to drag her away to treat a slightly wounded master or companion. Rose, Kirk and their daughter Millie were doing what they could for the Foothold’s wounded while Nadine did her best to keep the Goblin refugees and warriors alive with her own flagging strength and appropriated resources.

Given that the brunt of the fighting, and dying, was being borne by the Goblins, Nadine saw it as only fair that they were her priority.

The man growled dangerously as he stalked towards her.

“Back! No! Nasty human!” Rifi hissed, baring her teeth and pulling a sharp hand length spike seemingly from nowhere.

Rifi wasn’t alone either, many of the barely conscious and wounded Goblins tried rising to their feet, small weapons materialising in their hands as if drawn from thin air.

“Abominable filth!” The man swore and brutally kicked Rifi aside, sending her crashing into the far wall.

Rifi slumped to the ground and didn’t move.

Shocked by what she had just witnessed, before Nadine could come to her senses and react, the man had taken a firm hold on her upper right arm and had begun dragging her out of the hospital.

Dragged out into the chaos of the battlefield, Nadine was staggered still further by the chaos unfolding around her. The fighting had gotten much worse and the ground was littered with bodies. While many belonged to the Deep Orc’s and wild monsters, there was also no shortage of the small childlike bodies of the Goblin refugees.

“-ARE YOU DOING?! LET GO OF HER!” Emelia’s sudden cry kicked Nadine’s fatigued mind back into focus.

As weakened as she was, Nadine had no intentions of fighting fair. While the man holding her arm was temporarily distracted, she drew a dagger from her belt and slashed it hard against his exposed fingers.

“GAH!” The man roared in pain, reflexively shoving Nadine away.

Barely managing to keep her feet, Nadine panted from accumulated fatigue and hastily looked about for signs of Emelia, and with any luck, Clarice.

Unfortunately, there was no sign of Clarice, but Emelia was already rushing to her rescue, with Toby’s Shadowcat, Shady, loping along beside her. “Take him down!” Emelia cried, gesturing to the man who was now hastily drawing a bearded axe from his belt.

Unfortunately for him, Shady was faster, disappearing in a cloud of shadowy smoke and to Nadine's immense surprise, reappearing behind the man, now twice the size it had been only a moment before. Effortlessly driving the man to the ground, the now enlarged Shady roared fiercely at the pinned man’s head, almost certainly deafening him.

While Shady kept the man pinned, Emelia skittishly tried guiding Nadine back to the walls of the field hospital, “You need to go back!” She insisted, “They have sharpshooters in the mist!”

Mouth now incredibly dry, Nadine stopped resisting and allowed Emelia to shepherd her back to the relative safety of the field hospital. There were some close calls, but bolts and arrows that flew in their direction had thankfully gone wide or fallen short. Now safely back within the field hospital, Nadine’s stomach lurched as she recalled what the man had done to Rifi, her Goblin assistant.

Two other severely injured Goblins had apparently moved her in the meantime, so she was now laying down, but Rifi had become incredibly pale. With the imagery of the carnage outside still so fresh in her mind, Nadine’s meticulously curated triage list evaporated like smoke as she rushed to the dying Goblin’s side.

Before even touching her, Nadine could tell that Rifi was bleeding internally. Taking only a half second to confirm that she had the necessary MP, Nadine willed the mana to leave her body and stop the bleeding by repairing the damage. Without suturing the wound first, the healing would accomplish far less than it would otherwise, but her other Class Abilities would offset that somewhat, so Nadine just hoped that she had managed to intervene in time.

*Thump Thump*

Ignoring what she assumed was the noise created by stray arrows on the wall, Nadine kept her attention fixed on the deathly pale Goblin.

*Thump Thump, Clank*

“Nhadleagh...” The wet gasping gurgle was almost so quiet that Nadine had almost missed it.

Hurriedly standing up and turning around, Nadine froze.

Emelia had collapsed against the far wall by the entrance, her right hand desperately pressed against the left side of her neck, a black fletched arrow shaft protruding through her fingers. Visibly struggling to keep her eyes open, Emelia tried to speak, but couldn’t.

“EMELIA!” Nadine raced across the room and barely managed to apply pressure to the wound before her friend’s hand fell limply to the floor. Every instinct was telling her to pull out the arrow, but Nadine fought off the impulse as best she could and focused on applying pressure to the wound to stop Emelia from bleeding out. Foolishly removing the arrow would only accomplish the opposite, and unplug the dam, causing her to bleed out in moments.

“I NEED HELP!” Nadine called out hoarsely, tears stinging at her eyes as she felt Emelia’s pulse begin to weaken. “ANYBODY!”

“What do you need?” The calm controlled voice caught Nadine thoroughly by surprise, and if her fingers weren’t already cramping, she may have accidentally lessened the pressure on Emelia’s neck.

Turning her head to search for whomever the voice belonged to, Nadine was surprised to see a woman in her early thirties, with short clipped auburn hair and intense blue eyes, dressed in scouting leathers had knelt down beside her and opened a large pack filled to bursting with medical supplies.

The woman deftly worked her hand beneath Nadine’s own to maintain pressure around Emelia’s arrow wound. “Your friend, the chieftain Tim, he sent us here to help. What do you need?”

Three more women and four men, all wearing similar armour to the first, deposited equally large packs onto the floor as they entered the field hospital.

Sorely tempted to just collapse and succumb to her exhaustion, Nadine bit the inside of her cheek, using the pain to help her focus and reorganise her thoughts. Nadine was no longer the helpless child she had been all those years ago. She had seized the opportunity Tim offered, knowing that personal sacrifice and intense resilience would be necessary to reach her goal.

Filled with grim determination, Nadine forced back her feelings of exhaustion and got to work. The power to change and shape the future was now literally in her hands, Nadine only needed the will to see it through.