“Strolled into Stonehold and been there mostly ever since, with some trips to the Frozen Valley for, eh, diplomatic purposes,” Briggs shrugged.
Kristie Rantha just chuckled under her breath again, turning a knowing eye back on the three Gurogs who, upon hearing that they were going out to fight the undead, had asked to join him in the battle. One was even toting a borrowed Fire Axe so he’d have an appropriate Weapon.
They were giving Ryin wary side-glances after she had wiped out a hundred undead with basically one spell. Then again, everyone was trying not give the Lady Magos wary looks at that simple display of power, while the Scouts riding with her just had the most blasé looks on their faces, as if they’d seen it all before and weren’t surprised.
Attitude is always good for impressing the rubes, Princess Kristie thought, trying to hide her own grin. “Diplomacy. With gurogs.” She cleared her throat noisily. “I did receive a fairly extensive briefing from Lord Mick on them. How exactly did you establish diplomatic relations with them?”
“Well, I killed all their Summons whenever I met them, but I just pummeled the crap out of the living ones and let them go. Helped that whenever they were in my Source Field the charm effects on them were eroded away. Once I stumbled onto that fact, making the Amulets for their best warriors to keep them free of the undead followed, and then I followed up with the Snow Tuskers, too.” He grinned toothily. “That was a fun time, walking into their strongholds and beating them down with just my fists… if they were willing to do the same. It got a little more painful for them if I had to use my Hammer.”
“Were they bound around the edges of the System, like the undead and shades employ?” she asked with professional interest.
“Yes. There’s only a couple hundred of them, and it took them time to realize the Summons were actually completely different from the living ones. The main problem before the Fall was that being killed automatically terminated any pregnancies, so there were no young gurogs. It wasn’t until after the adventurers stopped coming and methodically killing them off that they realized pregnancies were even possible, and they had to shelter the females from conflicts, somehow managing to do it despite the undead being totally uncaring of the fact.
“So there’s gurog younglings around somewhere. Another artificial race, brought magically into existence.” He gave her a glance at the comment. “Moarsmen and sclavi are the same thing, although you may not have encountered them?”
“Huh. The Creatures from the Black Lagoon?” She nodded at his comparison. “Yeah, there’s a temple on the beach near where I washed ashore I stumbled across, had a bunch of them around it.
“Sclavi I’ve heard of, but not encountered directly, they aren’t common here in the North, even in some of the manifested Dungeon complexes.” The two of them started up yet another of the steep hills in their travel path, ignoring the climb effortlessly.
“Powered playing at making their own pet races.”
“Ah,” Briggs nodded slowly. “Well, the virindi tried, but it seems they aren’t very adept at much modification and evolution of form, only at enhancing aspects of power familiar to themselves, like intellect and magic. Turning the native mattekar into bipedal killers was beyond them… but not beyond the undead, who took over the virindi’s project and made it come to life as part of their Bloodstone initiative. They made themselves a cheap warrior race they programmed with a hate of the lugians who’ve been defying them, and used them in an attempt to make Bloodstones as locuses of power for themselves.”
“The Mick mentioned those. We were hoping such an obviously magical thing overloaded with the Fall.”
“No, it’s still working, but the Bloodstones become unstable if they drift beyond the confines of the Frozen Valley, which makes them next to useless as a power source for the undead. The Gelidites were seeking to expand them across the island. Then, I helped lead the revolt which threw the undead out of the Frozen Valley entirely, and the gurog take it upon themselves to destroy each new Bloodstone as it drifts up out of the Dungeon where they form. I’d’ve collapsed the whole thing, except I’m pretty sure if that happens the whole Dungeon gets taken out and, well, it’s at the bottom.”
“Ah, yes. So you destroy it for a day or two of peace of mind, and then it reforms, while you have to struggle all the way back to the top.” She nodded understanding. “I assume the gurog are using it for training.”
“Very good. The main gurog camp is above the testing Dungeon, and they’ve taken over the upper level entirely. Since they control their own akasha, they’ve removed their kind from the Summons array inside, so all they have to fight are Bloodstone bits and the Frozen Wights who keep manifesting. They are getting VERY good at fighting the undead.”
“Yeah, they were pretty eager to hop on board. Kind of taking them under your wing, aren’t you?”
“Based on what I’m seeing, they might live to be fifty. They weren’t designed to live long, but to grow up quick and be able to be thrown into a fight. The kids are basically adults at four years old, their brains way behind their bodies. They are a bunch of kids with violent streaks meant to beat on things, and they have to be tempered out of it.” He shook his big head gravely. “They were designed to die like dogs for their masters, and they finally know it and resent it.
“But this is just the first, second, and some third generations, that’s all. They have nothing. No culture of their own, no information to rely on that wasn’t programmed into them. So, yeah, a young race to mold and guide, but for all that, programmed as a warrior people genetically, so they have to be led by something stronger, or they’ll just pummel them down.”
“Enter Commander Briggs, who is very good at all that stuff.”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Yeah. I’ve basically recruited them as miners, and they’re pretty good at it, as well as sniffing out the veins themselves. It’s hard for them to learn more than basic crafts and skills, their brains just aren’t wired for adaptability the way a monkey’s is. They can do some basic ironwork and repair, but the masterwork they’ve come through with is more accident than design. They just don’t have any feel for it.”
“Then if they can only be heavy brutes, they should be the best heavy brutes that they can be,” she nodded. “The tuskers?”
“They are Magical Beasts and such they remain. They don’t make things, and everything is built on strength and experience. Peace basically came because Bobo the Tusker King established that we can get along without killing one another, although Isparians not being servants to the tuskers is rather new to them. There was a lot of beating them in the face with their own broken tusks, repeatedly, to get the point across, and some particularly aggressive ones got flaming Hammers to the soul and aren’t coming back. Nobody misses them much.”
“You obviously figured out vivus Seals the spawn points. How much have you been pursuing it?” she asked professionally.
“No random ones remain around Stonehold within two miles. Too prone to popping up undead. Frozen Valley only has two areas left that pop up undead, used as battle practice for the gurog, and two sections with devoted gurog Summons for guarding their camp and going with them to a bigger fight if needed.
“Virtually all other Summons points in the Valley are gone. It makes the snow tuskers feel a lot more vulnerable without all the extra tuskers scattered around the place, too.
“We use the Dungeon of the Pit for most of our early training. It’s got multiple layers that graduate in difficulty, mostly monugas, some undead at the very bottom. There’s a spread of local Dungeons of varying difficulty, and we’ve been thinning out the Summons across a broad area constantly, opening the area up for more wildlife, and allowing us to harvest timber and farm in a wider area than before. Slow but sure pacing.
“The Frozen Valley’s forts are still available for high-level guys who want to test themselves. There’s a few paramounts at Stonehold, and they try to keep in shape.”
“Teaching them Melee Levels and such, I hope?” she asked.
“Yeah, they were surprised to see them on your people, and the Mick there is especially far along. Well done, there.”
“We’ve been doing some pretty crazy stuff down south,” Kris nodded. “And he’s really devoted to it all. He’s basically the field commander for the Royal Scouts. Good man.”
“Elder Oswald was neutral on him, which is pretty good, as he’s not much impressed by anyone, bit of an arrogant arse that he is. But he always delivers, which is more than most people can say. I, uh, understand he has a really bad rap for trying to kill the High Queen a generation ago…”
“Yeah, not something most people forget. Manipulated into it by Nuhmudira, know about her?”
“Yeah. Oswald is, unsurprisingly, a murderously condemning expert on her, while public opinion is very mixed depending on how informed people are and who they believe. She managed to found a whole faction here under the banner of ‘Isparians First’, and if that meant killing the High Queen, so be it. Some folk think she’s a bloody hero, the others a fanatic who sacrifices her own people for power?” he queried her.
“She suborned the Zharalim and Summoned in something back in Ispar that killed fifty people and put a big crater in the ground. She ran to Dereth here to get away from the scimitars coming for her head.
“Then her daughter tried to do the same thing a generation later, and that’s how I ended up here, following Ryin, who exposed her machinations and her, once one of the Zharalim she hoodwinked got away after Ryin revealed who she truly was, through a Portal to here.”
“Huh. I take it you’ve not met or found her?” he asked thoughtfully.
“Ryin’s tried Scrying to track her down, and gotten nowhere… including notification of death.”
“So, alive and still around somewhere, shielded from Scrying magic? That means the shades, undead, or virindi have her here. Given the tales, I’d guess she’d go with the undead if she could, as her mother messed with the virindi and shades something fierce, and she at least worked against Grael, which was to the benefit of the undead. Given the shit her mother was involved in, her daughter might well pique their interest, especially if she’s got the same kind of Blood Magic experience.”
“She’s got at least some,” Ryin confirmed, and they crested the hill and separated for the moment as their different lightfoot styles put them on divergent courses.
When she and the Scouts behind her came swooping and skating down next to him again, their conversation resumed. “Any complications you foresee in this fight?” Briggs asked reasonably.
“No. Get up Interdictions, pin them in place. Ryin may not kill the commanders, but they’ll be on fire and not ready to deal with us coming in fast and hard. How many true elder undead do you expect? One or two?”
“Three tops. We perma-offed two of Aerefalle’s best lieutenants and commanders when we broke the hold of the wights on the Frozen Valley. Part of this response is probably revenge for that.”
“Awwwww, I feel so sorry for them. A reunion between comrades should definitely be in the works!” Kris grinned fiercely.
“I had the same kind of noble thoughts in mind!” Briggs agreed cheerfully.
“You ever fought alongside a Rantha using Butterfly Sting?” she asked sinisterly.
“Butterfly, Butterfly…” he mumbled, and then his green eyes glittered. “Oh. Oh, shit!” His lips drew back in a big flesh-tearing grin. “What’s your crit mod?” he rumbled expectantly.
“With Biting Strike… forty percent!”
“And you noticed I’ve a Tauran Greathammer with Crushing Blow and Biting Strike, too…”
“I had, amazingly enough!” she chuckled throatily.
“Feed me crits, woman, and I don’t care if it’s Rytheran himself, he’s going to go down VERY quickly!”
“Just watch me!”