Shin tilted his head at the screen that hung over the waystation, considering the implications behind its message. The kobold hadn’t had the chance to inspect it before, given that it hadn’t appeared until the messy business of dealing with the Oaken Rangers was well underway. But now that the elves were respectfully stacked at the end of the wall, waiting to peacefully dissolve back into the lifestream of the world, Shin had a chance to slake his curiosity.

Conquest Ongoing (1/7, 3/3)

“Hey, Momo? What d’you think of this?”

The little cleric stepped away from the crate of provisions she was sorting through, joining Shin in tilting her head at the message. “Well, it’s the fight we just had, isn’t it? That’s them,”–She pointed towards the ‘1/7’–”And that’s us,”–She indicated the ‘3/3’–”Right?”

“Hm.” Shin considered that. “Shouldn’t they be at zero, though?”

“I’m pretty sure that ‘one’ is Ceril.”

Ohhh right. Shin had completely forgotten about their prisoner in all of the excitement. The last surviving ranger was still where he’d been dropped near the firepit, still tied up and completely drained of all color. Shin could sympathize; he too knew how it felt to watch your allies pratfall to their deaths.

The elf went still as a corpse when Shin crouched down beside him, flinching back in terror when the kobold loudly snapped his fingers. “Hey. Look at me.” The elf did as he was compelled, looking as if he might throw up at any moment. “Surrender to us.”

It took a few moments for Ceril to remember how sounds worked. “S…suh…s’render…”

That was either good enough or the system simply took pity on the pathetic display, because a bright belltone promptly chimed through the waystation.

Conquest Complete! (Raze/Claim?)

That’s better. Wait, claim? Why is that one grayed out? Shin gave the second option a tap, only only to receive a terse buzz in response.

Cannot Claim (Tribal Strength 3/10)

Tribal Strength. It was back again, teasing Shin with the suggestion of systems and structures still out of reach. And now it came to titillate with a prize that enticed him more than a God ever could. So they could claim territory, could they? Interesting.

Very interesting.

Matters at the waystation needed to be cleared up first, though. “Gero, have you finished up in there?”

The other kobold called back an affirmative, emerging from the captain’s captain with a crate under one arm, a large book under the other, and a surprisingly colorful bird perched on her shoulder. “Not much to report.” She set the crate down beside the other provisions, tilting it forward slightly to reveal a dozen or so filled bottles. “Seems like the captain more or less lived on booze.”

“Clearly. And the book?”

Gero let the leatherbound tome drop on top of the crate. “Waystation’s log. First couple pages were scouting reports. After that he must have gotten bored, because from then on it’s just noting the rare visitor and terrible poetry.”

“Right. And the bird?”

Gero looked up at the rainbow-painted parrot, who clacked his beak amiably in response. “He said his name’s Tully. We’re friends now.”

Tully squawked in agreement, fluffing out his feathers before adding his own two cents. “Tully, Tully.”

Shin glanced at Ceril, who immediately elucidated. “H-he’s a carrier parrot. For m-m-messages back home.”

Maybe it was a bit mean-spirited, but Shin deeply enjoyed how utterly cowed the elf was. He had no doubts that Ceril would do literally anything to stay on their good side. For now, at least. Shin certainly wasn’t going to take for granted that Ceril was smart enough to continue doing the reasonable thing for long.

Still. For the moment, he was useful. “Ceril. What happens if we Raze this waypost?”

The elf wet his cracked lips. “S’destroyed. You’d get exp-perience, money…”

“Obviously. But would your side be informed that it had been destroyed?”

Ceril quickly nodded.

Hm. Inconvenient. Would they just have to leave it be, then? Shin was very close to deciding that was the only option when Momo spoke up. “Would they know it was us?”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

The elf hesitated for the briefest of moments, only to desperately shake his head ‘No’ when Gero looked meaningfully at her club.

Hm. Well that was something, but the problem was that leaving a mystery was almost as bad as making it clear that it was them. If the Oaken Elves sent an actual, possibly even competent force to investigate, there was no chance that they wouldn’t realize who’d done the deed. After all, it wasn’t as if there was anyone else who’d been through…

…Wait.

Shin snatched up the logbook, flipping to the last few entries and doing his best to ignore the poetry. Ugh, Gero was right; how many times can one man rhyme ‘Leaves’ with ‘Leaves’? Fortunately, it didn’t take long to find precisely what he needed.

Gero cocked an eyebrow as Shin carefully ripped a page out of the logbook. “Found a poem that spoke to you, did we?”

“Even better.” Shin lifted the page for Gero’s inspection. “I found the wicked fiends who destroyed this innocent waystation.”

Gero took hold of the paper, reading from it aloud.”Friday, the Ninth. Two Visitors. Balanthor and…” She trailed off for a moment, squinting an eye at what was written on the page. When she eventually decided it wasn’t some trick of her sight, she continued on. “...And ‘Mazter Azzblazter.’ Players.”

Looks as if he wasn’t named ‘Leathers’ after all.

Taking the page back, Shin began to fold it into a small square. “You said the bird is for messages, Ceril?”

The elf slowly nodded. “Yeah. It repeats phrases. If you, um, give the command.”

“Splendid. You’re going to send your higher-ups a message.” Shin extended the paper to Tully, the clever bird carefully snagging it in his talons. “The waystation was attacked by a Red Player. You can’t hold out. There won’t be any survivors. Got all that?”

Ceril quickly nodded, the color returning to his face as he opened his mouth. “I–”

“Be careful, Ceril.” Shin crouched down again, his face very close to the elf’s. “Be very careful about what message you try to send. I can always shoot down the bird. You wouldn’t be quite so lucky.” He crooked a finger underneath the spy’s chin, tilting his head up to force eye contact. “So I repeat: Got all that?”

His face drained of color once more, Ceril desperately nodded.

“Good. Do it now.”

The elf wet his lips again, his cracking throat needing a few tries to get the command out. “T-tully…sunflower.” The bird immediately tilted its head at Ceril, very still and alert as he gave the message. “W-waystation’s under attack. Red Player. Can’t h-hold out. No survivors. S-sunflower.”

The bird shook itself, fluffing itself out again. Then it clacked its beak and recited the message back. “Waystation under attack. Red Player. Can’t hold out. No survivors.” And with that, it spread its wings and flapped towards the exit of the zone.

Gero seemed sad to see him go. “Good bird.”

Shin absolutely agreed. That bird may have very well saved them from having to worry about vengeance-seeking elves before they saw the business that had started this entire endeavor through. Probably not forever, but at least for the time being. Fortunate, then, that their return to the zone that had birthed them was nearly at hand.

“Alright, I’ve finished sorting the provisions.” Momo stepped away from the basket, somewhat nonplussed. “It’s mostly just boar jerky and this stuff.” She held up something between a cracker and a wafer, preciously stamped in the shape of a tree. “It’s very, very stale.”

“Flembas bread,” Ceril muttered automatically, his voice dull and hollow. “The most ancient of elven staples.”

“Great. It tastes awful.” Momo dropped it back into the basket. “Besides that, they’ve gathered a bunch of mushrooms. But they’re nearly all the toxic kind. We should probably just leave the lot of it.”

“Mm.” Shin considered that, wheels beginning to turn in his head. “And Gero, you found…?”

“The logbook, the bottles.” She nodded towards a small pile of weapons. “Two bows and a few daggers. That’s it.”

With that, everything snapped into place. “Okay. Bring the weapons, the booze and the mushrooms. Dump the rest.”

Gero quirked a questioning ear. “And the elf?”

“He’s coming with us. We may need more information about any elves that come nosing around.” It wasn’t the worst idea to keep a convenient little boost of Experience handy either. Just in case of a rainy day.

Ceril barely reacted as Gero lifted him over her shoulder, meekly allowing himself to be hauled away like a bag of flour as Shin and Momo gathered up the rest of the loot. Then, Shin turned back to the waystation one last time and tapped ‘Raze’.

A flood of Experience surged through the three kobolds, immediately boosting them to Level Eight as the area stuttered and glitched. It was as if there were momentarily two waystations, the one they’d known and another layered on top of it. The entire zone shuddered once, and then the original was gone.

In its place was now a toppled wall, its cabin and observation towers reduced to kindling, and shredded tents left to litter the ground. It was if some calamity had fallen upon the zone, some force so irresistible that the waystation had no choice but to collapse over in total supplication.

Honestly, Shin found the display quite flattering.

“So that’s it, then?” Gero queried, peeking around Ceril to peer down at Shin. “No more prep? No more schemes?”

“Oh, I’ve got one or two more schemes. But we’re done with practice.” Shin shouldered his bow, eyes firmly set in front of him. “It’s time to go home.