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Brass Plague
Chapter 1 Burning Salt

Chapter 1 Burning Salt

The clear and sunny blue skies of The tropical paradise of Rajeva were haunted by smoke and fire, raiders had come for the capital of Nusantara a small but prosperous port of sharp and angled roofs, and open and welcoming homes, smelling of spices and fresh fruit. ancient stone statues and pyramids. Now in flames and coated in blood. The site of the temple of Ibu Harimau, a place of worship for the citizens of rajeva the reason they left their ancestral home. Now the pyramid was half destroyed and her priests laid across in bloody heaps of bodies. Their robed figures being fed on and looted by massive insects and their armored masters in chain armors and wielding axes, spears, and swords holding the moth like creatures on reins

Their masters were pale men, with long blonde or even white hair in braids or simply flowing past their nasal helmets. Bearing war paint in odd symbols on their faces. Their charges were winged horrors, massive moths with serrated mandibles and night black chitin. This moment was interrupted, a guttural cry and a volley of arrows rained down on the creatures and their masters impaling them on the barbed arrows blood splattering around, heads split by the arrows effortlessly piercing through and fraying the skin and metal meant to protect them.

Figures emerged from the foliage, flat faced, hairless, shades of blue and grey, and webbed fingers and toes. In odd porous armor that didn’t glint or shine, and curved and serrated axes and swords. Another figure robed in a red and white habit and wimple , a beautiful, youthful, and green skinned woman. She pointed with a white gloved hand at a raider crawling away. An arrow through his eye. One of these tall blue like men stomped towards him a sharp polearm in hand and slammed the weapon in front of the raider. He heavily exhaled and spoke in a deep and sober tone.

“Gardman, how many of you are there? Talk and I can ease your passing.” His eyes transfixed on the raider barely moving or blinking and exuding a silent fury. In return the raider spat blood on the ground. And gritted his teeth. “Better to die, in pain and alone than give anything to a *vyrko*” Hearing this the interrogator brought his weapon to chop through the dying man’s skull with the top portion of the weapon with an axehead. the red robed woman was taken aback holding her gloved hands over her mouth. But shock turned to anger as she stormed over and shouted. “Alco! Control your damn temper! I thought you were a vyrko elite not a petulant child!”

The tall bluish grey man reacted to his name unphased by the priestess’ shouting, inhaled and exhaled and spoke softly with clarity. “He wasn’t going to talk, and besides he has no information, he’s a low rank, but this is the first wave. Let’s clear out the stragglers and head back to nusantara and bunker down.” This set Awhina’s yellow irises ablaze with further anger as she clenched her fists tight. “And cost the city further losses? We were supposed to stop the next attack!.”

The vyrko soldiers seemed a bit unsettled after this, the cost of life had clearly taken its toll on the morale of the troop, this war weariness could be felt among the men, they held somber grimaces and held long stares into the distance. Alco glanced around and leaned in to speak softly through gritted teeth “I know, but what would you have me do, Sister?, we’re outnumbered and these are militia not professional soldiers.” 

Awhina closed her eyes and inhaled and exhaled in a slow and deliberate manner. “We need to know what we’re up against is all I’m saying.” She now held one hand in the palm of another holding them to her chest. Alco sighed and relaxed his jaw and shoulders. He gave a softened look to her, and signaled his men to move. Awhina simply had dread on her face and followed suit, no matter the cause she wanted to defeat these raiders and end this chaos.

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Cries roared and blades and axes fell as 2 men were in battle with vivisectors and raiders. A bronze colored bastard sword wielded by an older ruddy man cleaved through chain and flesh tearing asunder a raider into halves, blood and grit splattering as he did. 2 elegant blue longswords held by a fair skinned red headed younger man redirected an insects mandibles, then slipped away against the mandibles causing sparks then flourished and stabbed it in each eye of the horror. A raider charged the distracted warrior but the ruddy man cleanly sliced his head off causing the body to fall and the head to land where it was cut.

Behind the ruddy man was one of these horrid insects lunging out, the young warrior runs towards the monster and stabs once in the neck with the right handed blade and the head with the left handed one, white colored gore seeped from the wounds. It fell once he removed the blades with a sharp pull and sighed in relief. and among them were bodies bloodied and hacked apart by man and monster. 

The younger man exhaled. “They’re becoming more ferocious master, more persistent they’re making another offensive.”

the older man thought carefully about his words, his apprentice was reckless, headstrong, if he spoke wrong he’d charge into battle without a second thought for his life. He spoke softly “that may be, Ronan , but our place is here, we’re just you and me and the forces of vyrkos we’re going to catch up with.” Ronan nodded, sheathing the blue swords to the scabbards on his sides. His eyes began to look down as he fell silent looking at his boots. “And the stone? Is it bothering you still?” Ronan had a look of worry and dread waiting for the response, one hand resting on the pommel of his left sword. 

Gaspar, the ruddy older man produced a small black smooth stone about the size of an eyeball swirling orange and blue lights in the center. He 

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

rolled it in his calloused fingers and stashed it away in his pack on his side. “Never you mind, it’s telling me that they’re massing near the temple and beach on the west side of the island. We have to go.”

Ronan softly inhaled knowing that he wasn’t getting an answer, biting one side of his lip out of a frustration with his master for not worrying about himself but this anger had to step aside, he released his lip and swallowed deeply as if to digest his emotions and made his hand into a fist and held it to his chest. “Of course, Master lead the way.”

They trudged along heavily across the singed earth, iron boots cracking the dry mud. Ronan trekked along with Gaspar through the brush and trees viewing the bodies of vivisectors, raiders, villagers, warriors, Gaspar was trying his best to look ahead but the sight made his chest feel heavy with grief and worry hoping he wasn’t too late, even if he was here for another reason. He wouldn’t leave these people to their fate, he thought to himself coughing as the trek neared its end to a ridge in the jungle Overlooking the beach.

Gaspar crouched and motioned for his apprentice to follow suit, Ronan crouched nearby and leaned towards his master to softly speak. “What does the stone say they’re here for?” Staring out at a group of warriors on the beach from their vantage point. They carried no bugs but axes, swords, and rifles. 

Ronan bent down keeping a hand on one of his swords squinting his eyes, into a disgusted sneer at their rifles. “Red salt weapons” He jeered venom dripping from his voice. “Cowardly warfare” he added still gritting his teeth.

Gaspar would normally have something sage to say but the small black smooth stone he rolled in his scarred fingers had his attention to him it stitched his mind into the minds of these raiders. Their tactics, their thoughts, their fears. And with that he closed his mind off from the stone and placed it in his belt again. Pointing at the landing point. “You see there?” He softly breathed. “They’re heading to cut off a warband of vyrkos, and a priestess.” 

Ronan stood and began to unsheathe a blade but gaspar firmly grasped his wrist and shot him a wife eyed glance. “Wait! Not yet! We’ll just get overwhelmed now, they’ll be here any second.

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Alco began to lean on his staff weapon while heading to the capital with the warband, he was tired and sore. But the men couldn’t see that they needed strength to look upon, not weakness. Awhina took in the coast they had reached from the burning, barren, and ashy jungle. It was Pristine, no bodies, no fire, still natural. She could see the sea, and the sky free of smoke. She had moved ahead to Alco, fast walking her robe somewhat restricted her movement adding to the restlessness. When she finally walked through the sand impeding her movement a bit she placed a hand on alco’s shoulder with a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry I lost my temper at you, I just-“ she pursed her lips as if struggling to voice what she’s saying. “I can’t stand to see what’s happening here!”

Alco kept his grim expression his sharp teeth making an uneasy grimace as she brought up the suffering, gripping onto the pole of his weapon. “No need, Sister Awhina, I can hardly be mad at you for wanting to save more people, andI want to save them too but we need to be prepared To win and prepared….” *he gave a more contemplative glare stopping in his tracks. “We need to be prepared for casualties as well.” He started walking slowly again giving her a tired but sympathetic look. She let go of his shoulder and placed her hands together, locking fingers and nodding wordlessly. They both hated his conversation but it had to be said. She was a doctrix among her convent, a healer, to realize she couldn’t save everyone felt like a breach of her oath. Alco felt a knot of guilt for saying it to her but in his own way wanted to guard her heart and prepare it for the horrors of war. 

Before anyone could move further a loud blast shot across the beach hitting a vyrko piercing through his chest armor. Everyone in the warband ducked and began to run for what sparse cover there was. Everyone but Alco and Awhina.. Awhina sprinted over and dragged the wounded aquatic away towards cover and began to assess the wound speaking Incantations as she moved to staunch the bleeding. “iidreik rokil” the soldier grunted and shouted in pain as his wound was pressed on and began to slowly knit back together with the magic of the sister.

Alco never moved, he waited, weapon in hand for the next shot. Another rand out, he barely dodged the bullet as it grazed his side. After regaining his balance he could see the rifleman and flipped the polearm around and tossed it with great effort, a responsive shout of pain let him know he hit what he was aiming for. He ran over to the bordering jungle edge he threw the strange glaive into and say a dead raider holding a red salt rifle with the weapon’s sharp point above the axe head in his chest. 

Before he could attend to the bleeding in his side he heard shouting from his men. And a squad of avngardians ambushed him charging out but before they could hit a hideous roar and a streak of flame took out the bulk incinerating them instantly. Then the remainders looked for their attacker in vain as a figure with 2 swords shouted appearing from the jungle brush dispatching them before they could react by a quick clean slice. The red haired warrior turned to Alco, pulled out the pole arm from the rifleman’s chest and handed it to him motioning with a head tilt that they should move. Alco barely processed that but figured questions could wait.

Sister Awhina saw as the vyrkos formed a defensive line but saw the main force of avngardians aiming and firing their rifles, shots fired their shields either breaking or being pierced. And causing a hit, time seemed to slow as when the raiders charged the vyrkos she heard a shot and knew it was for her she froze before hearing the impact of a bullet to skin but saw a taller ruddy man with a greatsword in front of her and the wound he took, but to her surprise he seemed to barely flinch. Instead in he inhaled and belted a hideous cry as he spouted flame from his mouth and the rifleman was incinerated, the wound was healed and he ran into the fray with one big sweeping strike. 

Alco and Ronan ran to the beach after facing a few straggler raiders alco electing to pick up one of their axes and threw it at the back line of the soldiers it connected to the back of the helmed skull of one of these men. Ronan charged in thrusting the two blue swords forward and piercing two men. Alco shouted a charge as he stabbed one from behind as well with the bottom of the polearm then rearing back and delivering a devastating sweep hitting a man in the ribs. The small force left were cut down by the remaining vyrkos warband hacking at them from behind their shields. As the battle died down Awhina ran to the field and began to tend to any wounded. Alco slammed his polearm into the sand gripping the handle and squinted his eyes. “Not to be ungrateful, you got us out of a tight spot but who are you two?”

Gaspar and Ronan looked over and stood side by side. Sheathing their weapons. Ronan was about to speak but Gaspar extended his arm across ronan and interrupted and inhaled. “Gaspar Montana And Ronan of Gwyllia, black guard. At this mention Alco’s eyes flashed and his face sneered.

Awhina had finished patching a vyrkos together best she could and stood up And wiped the blood off her face with a cloth. “Blackguard? Never heard of them who are they?” Before she could. Say anything alco Strained out a single response. 

“Traitors”

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