It had been a long hard slog to climb through the hinterlands in order to climb into The Teeth. The Radiant Rangers were D-Rank but the monsters of The Teeth live in the most competitive state that a natural creature could survive in. That natural competition, in such an Aether-rich area, had produced some of the most powerful natural creatures you could find. Only inside established Dungeons could you find monsters more powerful but they didn’t usually have the cunning that was inherent in any creature that had survived to such high levels as was seen in The Teeth.
It was from one such battle with a large D-Rank Pack of Wolfbears, that they managed to reach their target valley. Exhausted and bloody from their trials, they looked at the verdant landscape with gratitude to The Light in their hearts. The Sun Engine glittered overhead, its rays glimmering off of the large lake that sat at the bottom of the valley. A river gushed forth from the woods at the lake’s edge and the men’s hearts were gladdened by the sight of running water.
Immediately they set off, pushing their exhaustion back for the moment, in order to reach the moving water. They managed it swiftly and finally, their disciplined composure broke. Some of the men dove for the lake to wash the blood away in the shallows while still others sought out the river for clean drinking water. They remained cautious, they were in The Teeth still after all, but for the most part, they relaxed.
Gerald was the one who was affected the most. His mind had been focused intently on following the threads and now it reeled from overtaxation. He hadn’t thought it would take so long to get here and had used the ability far more than he should have. His brain felt like it would split in two. He groaned even as went to the river’s edge and dunked his head in, letting the cool mountain water take the edge off his pounding skull.
As he hauled his head out of the water he heard Desmond shouting orders, though they were more like reminders.
“Alright, you lollygaggin anklebiters, enough of that! Remember the company motto! What do we hate?!”
“SOAP!” The company raggedly called out, Gerald joining in even though it sent a dart of pain through his skull.
“And what do we love?!”
“A jolly good SCRAP!”
“Then get to it company!”
Gerald groaned as he sat up before getting to his feet to do his part. SCRAP stood for Scout, Camp, Resupply, Attune, and Plan, usually in that order. First was scouting, where men specializing in stealth and/or perception abilities were sent out to scout the surrounding land for either their target or to gather geographical information. After the scouts returned with more information Camp had to be set up, usually something temporary since they were often on the move. Next was Resupplying from the surrounding woodland and checking to make sure everything was topped up and hadn’t been tampered with.
Attuning happened during downtime and was set aside for the rangers to consult the System on their gains or to Attune to any new magical items or abilities. Planning was the last step where the most senior rangers gathered together to go over the scouting reports and to assign watches for the evening while planning for any future engagements. SOAP, a joke made so long ago no one knew exactly how it had started, stood for Stupid Overly-Asinine Procedures. Simple was best as far as the Radiant Rangers were concerned. It also made for an outstanding company motto and inside joke all rolled up into one.
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Gerald was on Resupply so he made his way to where the current serving Quartermaster had begun taking stock. The man saw him coming and waved him off. “You’re good here Gerald, we can cover you. Go nurse that head of yours. I’m sure it's pounding like crazy and we’ll need you to guide us once the company is fully recovered. Gerald gave him a nod of gratitude and moved on, finding a thick tree trunk to place his back against.
To his sense of time, he had only been resting for a short while before the scouts returned and they were moving. Near the bottom of a rocky crag that stretched further north up the valley, there were a series of caves. The scouts had entered and there had been no sign of it being a den so the company was moving in. Gerald stumbled inside and fell in with the rest of the company as dinner was prepared and the lights were lit.
Apparently, the caves went some distance down and some of the scouts left to make sure there was nothing of interest deeper in. The rest of the company dived into the food, eating with gusto. Gerald, however, lingered near the cave entrance. His head throbbed and he preferred the cool breeze to the dank cavern interior. Someone brought him food but through the pain of his headache, he didn’t really remember who it was.
He ended up pitching his hammock near the entrance rather than sleeping inside. Perhaps that was why when the first battle cries rang out he had more time than most to respond than the others. He rolled out of his hammock with all of the agility his D-Rank physique granted him before grabbing his sword and bow from where he had laid them. Racing to the entrance he didn’t quite know what to make of the melee.
Locked in combat with the company was a nightmarish horde of creatures, oozing with foulness. Even as Gerald leaped forward to assist, one of his brothers fell to the onslaught and was dragged deeper into the blackness of the caves, roaring bloody murder as he was. Headache blessedly absent, Gerald was brought to a swift halt by Desmond’s roar deeper in the cave.
“Gerald don’t! Leave lad, continue the mission! Find the shard! There’s nothing to be done.” Gerald froze as commanded with his feet still outside the cavern proper. He could see where Desmond fought, his eyes blazing and his sword alight with radiance. He caught Gerald’s eyes and the man motioned with his head downward.
Gerald cursed and leaped back as a black oily tentacle whipped up from the ground seeking to entangle him. Looking closer, he could see that every brother was locked in a fight to break free from the ooze and filth while also battling twisted creatures out of nightmares. Desmond gave him a crazed grin when next he locked eyes with the man.
“Was here the whole time just waiting for the sun to go down! Quite the nasty surprise when the scouts returned and activated the damn thing! Get out, Gerald! Go find the shard of sunlight. We break free and join you when we’re done here.”
Gerald hesitated only a moment more before his training kicked in and darted away up the valley, engaging his ability to follow the threads. Even as he did so he heard a roar from behind him as the company thundered out their motto. The flash of activated abilities lit up the night in its wake.
“What do we hate?!”
“SOAP!”
“And what do we love?!”
“A jolly good SCRAP!”
“Hit 'em hard boys,” Gerald muttered as he sped away from his brothers, hoping against hope to find some solution before they succumbed completely to whatever foulness dwelt below.