The walk out of the valley is as quiet as it is somber. The original joy of the victory against the bush men, as my underlings have taken to calling them, quickly dissolved away once everyone realized how many of us would not be coming home. We lost damn near half the expedition in that fight, a regret I’m going to carry with me for the rest of my life.
But, we knew it was a gamble, I made that clear to the men when we set off. They all agreed, probably because they trusted me, a trust that for half of them was clearly misplaced. At Least we accomplished our objective, we have five of the bodies of those things tied down to the carts, and it looks like they will take a while to decay at least. They should be intact enough still when we get back to civilization that we will get accredited, at least according to Sasil. She is the expert when it comes to monsters here, having been a hunter for thirty years now, so I trust her judgment.
Speaking of, I still need to talk with Sasil about those things. I slow my speed, letting other members pass by me as I nonchalantly make my way from the front towards the middle of the line. The men will definitely notice, I’m supposed to be near the front leading the line. But they either don’t care or are too tired to. Either way, one of Sasils people is the one actually doing guidance, so me stepping away for a few minutes won’t bring our progress to a halt.
I slowly lag my way towards the cart in the center of our line, it’s closer to a carriage and is the only one drawn by one of our two squaklers. The other of course being ridden by Resnorv. All three of the other carts are being drawn by hand. Slowly I fall back and into line with Sasil, who is walking just ahead of Resnorv and the squakler drawn cart just behind him. We walk in silence for a few moments, before she takes initiative and opens up the conversation.
“So captain, I suspect you haven’t dallied your way back here because you're tired. What has you concerned?” Sasil asks, apparently picking up on the little concern I let show on my face.
“Those monsters we fought, as foolish as it sounds I can’t take my mind off them. Something about them felt… they were too intelligent. From my understanding monsters shouldn't show that level of coordination until much higher levels, and even then….” I tailed off, so Sasil replied.
“Yes I agree, that was way too coordinated for monsters. It felt like they had a battle plan and were following it. Which shouldn't be possible until well into two fifty level ranges from my understanding. But this area doesn’t have anything near that high level, even in the peaks of the mountains. Something that big migrating would surely draw enough attention that the guild would have taken notice.”
“So what, this is the work of some kind of mad man then? Someone was controlling those things?” I ask.
“Highly unlikely, but possible. I remember when the Catla event was still fresh on everyone's minds. A rogue dark and death magic user spawning and controlling skeletons not as summons or thralls but as monsters really put everyone on one edge. Still, I think this is more likely a case of something new coming along as I said before. Worst case it's a monster type from a different region.” Sasil says.
“You didn’t mention that before.” I say with an edge in my voice.
“Because honestly it’s less likely than finding a completely new monster. Monsters just don’t move or start appearing very far from their natural areas. I’ve never heard of anything resembling a twigling in nearby regions. If it is from far off, it might as well be a new discovery.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
That explanation puts me more at ease, knowing that my men at least didn't die for nothing.
“So, how does this whole process work? Obviously we make it back to a town or would a city be better?” I ask
“A city would be best, we should be able to reach Sratsbury before these decay by any meaningful amount. After that I go in, probably speak with the hunt master, some 'experts' will get called, other high level hunters as witnesses, from there I don't know. We will have our names attached to it by that point. Which reminds me, if you get the chance, draw up a list of everyone in your expedition so I can hand that over, a lot easier than having them ask everyone one at a time."
"Noted, but how long will the whole process take? We were told to bring back a Night Stripe, and while finding a whole new monster certainly is a step up, the (bishop) isn't exactly known as a patient woman."
"This won't be a quick process by any means. Yes we will get glory, but first they will want to double check that we aren't bullshitting, then whatever jazz they want to. So timeline wise, maybe a month or two."
"That's unacceptable, the bishop will have me excommunicated well before that! Glory won't do me any good when I've already been thrown to the streets in squalor!" Resnorv buts in from behind us.
Without missing a beat Sasil turns and addresses him.
"Oh but good deacon there is no need for concern. While the process itself takes time we will be recognized as soon as the experts determine it is a new monster. While full accreditation may be farther along, I'm sure if asked nicely, the local branch master would be more than willing to write a letter to you and your superiors thanking you and the Church's efforts in bringing this discovery to light."
All Resnorv can do is grit his teeth and thank her. Sasil clearly has her own experience dealing with his kind of person.
"We've gone off topic, those things were too coordinated. The opening explosion, that was probably one of those bombers loaded with blast pods." I say.
"I agree, from what we saw and heard I think Grognar’s group fell for the trap while the rest of us were dealing with the night stripe, which I still don't think is a coincidence." Sasil replies with anger in her tone.
"I want to agree, but how would something like that even be coordinated? The night stripe is an animal, not a monster. Last time I checked, monsters and animals don't get along, much less coordinate. And none of these twiglings have any kind of control or slave brands on them, but if they did, who would waste those kinds of resources on level thirteen monsters? Did the night stripe have anything on it?" I ask.
"The night stripe was clean from what I could see, granted we were a bit busy trying to make it drop Flair that we didn't really look it over. Even then, it didn't feel like it was controlled, just trying to prey on us. The saving grace of the opening blast was that it scarred the damned thing off." Sasil replies.
"So if it wasn't being controlled then the twiglings were?" I ask.
"I think that's the more likely case, they were too coordinated for low level monsters, unless it was some kind of unique skill. But a unique skill on non-named monsters is unheard of. So that brings up your previous point of control and who or why waste the resources? It just doesn't make sense."
"None of this makes sense, that's why we are discussing it. And you know what else, a skill doesn't explain the use of suicide bombers. I got a good look at one of the final two that covered the monsters retreat, they clearly had blast pods tied to them. Tied, something put them there, even with a skill that allows coordination, there is no way in Verti level thirteen monsters are smart enough to think 'hey if we tie these to one of our own we can send them to blow up what we are trying to kill.' That isn’t monster level intelligence. "
“I agree, they blew up Grognar’s group, I’ve known him for twenty years and we worked together off and on. As much as I want revenge I think we are out of our depth, which is why it's a good thing we are leaving. The people they will be sending to investigate will be much higher level and better equipped. If we try to get answers odds are we’ll just end up dead.”
“I agree, but it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.”
With that our trek resumed in silence as I made my way back to the front. We made our way into the city three days later, only to find we had barely avoided death.