THIS STORY IS AVAILABLE IN FULL ON KINDLE UNLIMITED. HI, I'M THE AUTHOR, AND I AM POSTING THE FIRST TWO OR THREE CHAPTERS HERE ON ROYAL ROAD FOR PUBLICITY PURPOSES...AND BECAUSE WE WILL SOON BE RELEASING THE TABLETOP GAME FEATURED IN IT!
VOICEOVER: THIS IS...THE CLINTON NEWS NETWORK. Your best source for the unbiased truth.
In foreign news: President Harris today finalized the sale of unneeded land in many States to China, successfully paying off the national debt for the first time in history. This, despite ongoing protests by the fake-American citizens in those states, and their conspiracy theories about this being the culmination of a communist plot against the American people. President Harris, when asked about this, responded with "What do I care what they say? They were never LOYAL Americans anyway, so let the Chinese do with their people what the CCP thinks they need to do
SIDETALK: Well at least we won't have to worry about these former states voting for a traitorous fascist like Trump again, Right? That's right Chelsea, the last thing this country needs is another so-called "president" following after THAT fake-martyr, ha ha ha!
In domestic news today: The so-called "Constitutional States" movement just put out a report on the supposed upswing in paramilitary attacks and terrorist events all along the United States/Mexico border. They have illegally detained or killed several foreign nationals, claiming them to have been engaged in wartime activities. The US Department of Homeland Security, and the Federal Bureau of Investigation, have both called on the governors of the border states to release these innocent people and arrest the far-right terrorists responsible for these acts of domestic terrorism, since their field offices in the states were destroyed in riots last month. While the governors did not respond, the reply given to us by their press representatives is...not repeatable.
Wayne turns off the radio in his truck before he vomits. Turning onto the road that leads back to his home from town in his work truck, he wonders how long his gaming buddies will want to go tonight. He listens to the rattle-clank of the rolls of barbed wire and rubberized pegs in the back of the truck, looking forward to their game of The Harrowed Earth tonight, but dreading having to head out to run wire around his property tomorrow.
An old regret, but one that he even has to admit to himself isn't fair. After all it wasn't Johnny's fault that he and their mother ended up killed by a "truck of peace" when they were visiting a gerontology specialist in Houston. He remembers the old ache in his chest from when he got the call about their deaths, while in the VA Hospital in the Philippines the day after the birth of his son Paul. He went from being the happiest a man could be, to having a pit open up beneath him. He and Pia talked it through, and he decided to move their small family back to Texas to take over the family ranch, so that they could keep it in the Sigurdsson family and eventually pass it on to Paul. Neither of them could have guessed that after the DemonRats stole the 2020 election, they would go full-bore traitor and eventually assassinate their competition in 2024! Now the family is trapped here in the States because, as a former-serviceman, the current regime considers him too much of a risk of "foreign radicalization" as an "alt-right extremist" to let out of the country. Being in a so-called “secessionist” state like Texas doesn’t help, either.
And they wonder why the majority of the populations of the border states have decided to secede from D.C., even as they surround them with Chinese military forces to prevent the population from leaving...and SUBSIDIZE foreign attacks into them from the Mexican border. "Almost" like they are trying to genocide the American population, and replace it with an imported one too stupid to resist their communist overlords. Heh heh, "DemonRats"...I still can't believe the guy who WROTE The Harrowed Earth came up with that one...
As he rolls up the window on his dad's old Ford (which is older than HE is), the thought which brings him back to later tonight, is that the truck is back from when America used to MAKE things. The Harrowed Earth is an alternate-d20 (i.e. “alt-20”) DnD-style game he bought from a local RPG store a few months back, wanting to take his mind off of the growing devolution of his country WITHOUT climbing down the neck of a bottle...little hard to run a ranch when you are drunk off your ass 24/7. The guy who runs the store is an old Army Ranger, who managed to smuggle it into the state past the Chinese Army barricades, mixed in with a trailer of 5.56 for the Texas Guard. When he found out Wayne was a former navy munitions warrant officer, he laughed and pulled out the “Red-Pilled as FUCK” book from beneath the counter, then introduced him to a bunch of other locals he knew who were looking to start a game.
Now, several months later, the six of them meet up at Wayne's farm on the first Sunday night of every month to stay up late slinging dice and drinking beer. Ah, looks like everybody beat me here, Wayne thinks as he pulls up to park in front of his family home, alongside the three other cars from his gaming buddies, and the Jeep that his wife uses when she needs to run errands while he is out on the ranch with the Ford. He smiles as he sees Paul playing with John and Samantha's twins, hosing each other down with squirt guns in the hot summer evening sun. He is looking forward to when Paul is old enough to take out coyote-hunting on the ranch, kid looks like has AIM, he thinks with a mental chuckle as Paul hits one of the twins square in the mouth when he starts laughing.
As his car engine
Wayne walks into the mudroom on his way to the dining room, seeing John's prosthetic leg leaning against the inside door but no crutch...he must have left the wheelchair at home this month. Walking into the dining room he confirms it, with John sitting next to his wife Samantha at the adult's table, his crutch leaning next to the window frame behind him, sucks that he got dosed-up with that fake-ass “vaccine”, before everybody KNEW it was poison...but at least it ONLY cost him a leg. A joke that John not infrequently brings up when playing “Doc House”, the medic in their WWII-era The Harrowed Earth game. Sitting at the head of the table Wayne looks around and sees that in addition to the two of them, Perri and Thomas are already what looks to be about halfway done with a card came with Finnley their Horror Guide...who is winning. An atypical result which explains why Finn looks so dejected at having to clean up the game so they can dig into dinner.
The world may be going to hell on a lubed-up waterslide, but DAMN am I still a lucky man, Wayne thinks as he ponders his family, friends, and having the free time to enjoy good hobbies.
***
The Sturmwolf officer collapses in agony, clutching his abdomen as the zombified rat starts to gnaw its way out, letting Herr Grey move forward to shove a rag in his mouth without any opposition. “Be careful which blond you pick up at a bar next time,” he says, before stabbing a silver-coated ice pick into the werewolf’s brain through the eye socket.
Herr Grey: Neutral Good ECL 4 “Human” Precursor (Ascendant) Hit Die 3, Level Adjustment +1. High Charisma and Intelligence. Notable Traits: Eldritch Soul ×3, Psychic Medium ×3.
Wayne laughs as he says, “I can’t BELIEVE that worked!” as the rest of the table in his detached garage start roaring with laughter.
“I can’t believe he bought that your character’s 6 foot-tall ass was a WOMAN,” says Finnley, holding his side from the pain of the laughter. “But hey, I guess that’s what happens when you make a Bluff-o-Mancer”. Still caught up in the ridiculousness of the situation, the rest of the table cracks up again at the poor pun, despite Wayne’s ferocious blush…or more likely BECAUSE of it.
“I did NOT lie to him! Herr Grey really HAS never slept with another man, and coming back to my hotel room really WAS a once-in-a-lifetime experience…death is a one-shot event, after all.” Even Wayne can’t keep a straight face at that one. “Besides, it was Doc House that implanted my zombie rat inside his intestines after he passed out from the what…fourth?...Essence of Sleep-dosed shot of Whiskey?!”
“Hey it wasn’t MY fault that YOU had to go and pick up the highest-ranking lycanthrope you could find, you Extra-Terrestrial asshat!,” snirks John, with a wink and a chuckle. “Let’s get inside before your ‘date’ has to change shifts. We still have a LOT of cattle cars to empty out!”
Doc House: Chaotic Good ECL 4 “Human” Aasimar Hit Die 3, Level Adjustment +1. High Intelligence and Wisdom. Notable Traits: Spiritualism ×3.
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With the NAZI werewolf dead on the floor of the rail yard watch-house-cum-love-shack, Herr Grey lets the illusion of a blonde bombshell drop, before flashing his light twice in the window. At the signal the rest of his Polish Resistance cell came rushing into the building from alleyway across the street, carrying carts full of clean clothes between them so the wheels don’t squeak.
Once the other four are inside the shack, Doc House and Fraggy begin taking stacks of clothes from one of the carts to put on the table, while the other two wheel the last cart out into the train yard…the NAZI’s keys in hand. After Fraggy stripped down to deadlift the corpse into the wagon, Doc House starts using his alchemical concoctions to clean the bloody mess off the floor, and eliminate their scents. Meanwhile Herr Grey cuts off some of the officer’s hair to put inside his jacket FOR the scent, before casting disguise self to assume the dead lycanthrope’s form and stepping outside to resume “his” place on guard duty. A perfect operation…for now. And a good spot to pause for a snack break.
Fraggy: True Neutral ECL 4 Human Hit Die 4. High Strength and Wisdom. Notable Traits: Call of the Wild ×4, Combat Bonuses ×4.
“Everybody ready to resume, or does someone need to go take a piss or something?,” asks Finnley. When nobody says anything he resumes, “OK when we last left our intrepid heroes…fifteen minutes ago…you had managed to smuggle the two hundred kidnapped Innuit Elves to safe houses, but Cinda and Vienna were captured covering your retreat, when the dead guard’s replacement shift arrived. Herr Grey, you and both Fraggy and Doc House managed to get away, thanks to Doc House using create water to hose down the werewolves that had your scent.”
With a conciliatory sigh Wyne says, “Sorry I couldn’t help talk you out of getting arrested ladies, but the mission took longer than we expected and I had to run before my last disguise self spell wore off.”
“No worries, Cinda is a ‘good German woman’, they will treat her well until she can escape,” says Samantha. At which point everybody laughs, Perri barely getting out, “Yeah…as long as none of them fall asleep around you, and gets eaten by their NIGHTMARES,” while wiping her tearing eyes.
Cinda: Lawful Good ECL 4 Human Hit Die 4. High Charisma and Wisdom. Notable Traits: Divine Agent (Elder Deities) ×4, Skillful ×4. Has taken the “Dreaming” Elder Domain.
Samantha only shows an evil grin, “Ah, but think of the OPPORTUNITIES…”
Perri continues, “At least they didn’t strip YOU naked and toss you in a kennel, as ‘subrace filth’.” She describes what’s happened to her character Vienna, the Hawai’an wife of a French diplomat who was killed when the NAZIs invaded Poland, now hell-bent on revenge.
Vienna sits shivering slightly from the water the NAZI scum hosed her down with, naked, on the floor of the dog cage they had thrown her into after stripping her clean to get rid of any hidden weapons. And for a cheap thrill, nobody ever accused NAZI foot soldiers of being gentlemen, after all. Good thing they missed the garrote in her hair clip, and the Skinpicks on her back. But she can’t use her witchcraft or reach the lock without alerting the Polish collaborator sneering at, an occasionally spitting on, her. Sure she could kill him in short order, but not without him dropping the bell that would alert the Sturmwolves outside to her escape.
Vienna: Chaotic Good ECL 4 Halfling Hit Die 4. High Dexterity and Intelligence. Notable Traits: Psychic Attack ×4, Psychokinetics ×4.
Meanwhile, in the back room of Doc House’s apothecary shop the next evening, the three remaining resistance cell members are plotting. “We have GOT to get the ladies out of the klink, before they wind up on the next car out of town!” wails Fraggy. Doc House tries to lighten the mood with a joke, “Don’t worry my friend, after last night they are far more likely just to KILL them, since the railyard is obviously not secure.”
“Doc, your bedside manner needs…well…ALL the work. But I have an insane idea that JUST might work…,” pipes up Herr Grey with a bone-chilling grin.
After sunset, an hour later, Fraggy whispers to Doc House, “I think us two are the ‘insane’ ones for agreeing to this”. Then the wolf-man Sturmwolf yanks on the ropes around their wrists, making them stumble, before growling back “no talk” through his shaggy blood-drenched muzzle. As it turns its face back to the front, the three of them are caught in the beam of a spotlight from the guard tower around the NAZI base they are approaching.
Shortly, the two Polish rebels are being taken to the cells, while the Sturmwolf is following the base commander to his office. “We feared you were lost when we could not find you at the train yard, how did you escape?” The Sturmwolf hackingly growls out, “taken…woke up in basement…moon rose…ate man with pliers.” The commander laughs, either at the broken German being forced through his canine muzzle, or the thought of the look on the interrogator’s face just before he was eaten.
“Well the butler will bring you a new uniform to my office, my apologies for any poor fitting, but we can tailor you one after you…are back to normal. I’ll pour you a nice tumbler of Schnapps while we wait, but you will have a hard time drinking it until you change back.” The side of the werewolf’s snout pulls back in a semi-canine grin, “will manage,” before the commander laughs again as he opens his office door.
A few minutes later the werewolf shoves the tumbler halfway down his muzzle, before tilting his head back to swallow the contents, “yum”. “Funny, I thought you would lap it up for some reason, you folks are the first time I’ve ever had Sturmwolves under my command,” says the chagrinned commander.
As there is a polite knock on the door, the commander calls in the butler with the uniform, before telling the werewolf to use his attached bathroom to change. Then he tells the butler to, “Fetch the traitorous whore, for my new guest”.
Meanwhile the prisoners are being taken to the basement cells by the guards on shift, stripped, hosed down, and thrown into prisoner’s cages. As the last guard is left behind with an alarm bell to watch them, Vienna looks over at her new neighbor and says, “So…what’s up, Doc?”
Doc leans into the bars between their cells before whispering, “Don’t worry Vienna, this is all part of the escape plan!” Incredulously Vienna whispers back, “WHOSE hair brained ‘rescue’ scheme is it to get CAPTURED?! Oh…oh no…” Her face falls as Doc’s crazy smile gets wider and wider, before he says “just wait for the signal.”
Meanwhile, the newly-dressed Sturmwolf is still using a hand towel to clean the soapy water from his newly-Human face while sitting on the edge of the commander’s desk, and chatting amicably, when there is another polite knock at his door. The commander’s call opens the door showing the butler, as the guard shoves Cinda inside by the arm, before the door is shut again at a nod from the commander. “So my little race-traitor, it is time for you to do your duty as a good Aryan daughter of the German Reich. This man here is a Sturmwolf officer who has just accomplish a great deed for the war effort, and YOU are to be his mate…the Fuhrer could use more men of his caliber!”
Cinda tilts her head to the side to see the Human-looking werewolf, before twisting her mouth and saying in exasperation, “I don’t care if he is adopted – I am STILL not going to fuck my BROTHER.” The commander’s puzzled look quickly vanishes as the soapy rag covers his mouth, just before his neck is opened by the letter opener from his desk. “I never could fool YOU, sis,” says Herr Grey.
The table erupts in laughter again as “stage two” goes into effect. “Ok, ok, I’m going to get the ‘tea’ from our informant the butler, and douse the room in it. Then put the lit candle on the ground and escort ‘my new mate’ out of the office,” says Wayne. “Once I have her in the troop transport in the motor pool, I’ll disguise myself as the ‘commander’, and go free ALL the prisoners after the fire alarm goes up!”
Riding in the back of his staff car as the butler drives it from between the gates, the troop transport full of “soldiers” follows behind them as the NAZI command post’s fire starts spreading from the basement and the commander’s quarters. The rest of the NAZIs being too distracted with trying to put out the fires, and guarding against possible outside attack by resistance forces, to more than passingly inspect either vehicle.
“Ok folks, with that lets call it a night,” says Finnley. “You have all managed to level up after this, so send me an email with your desired traits and other improvements, and we will meet up again in a month!”
***
Its midmorning when Wayne finally crawls out of bed the next day; the day after game night being the only time he ever really sleeps in. As he hits the bathroom he can hear John and Samantha downstairs, but not the kids or his wife…Oh, right, school day. You would think I would REMEMBER that once of these months! Buckling on his 1911 gunbelt, he heads downstairs to say goodbye to John and Samantha, “Howdy rebel scum, did the kids get off to school OK?”
“Yeah man, Pia took the three musketeers to school like usual, said to let you know she’s going to be spending the day in town getting supplies before bringing your rug rat home with her,” says John with a wink.
Samantha swats him on the shoulder his crutch isn’t using before adding her two cents, “She said she left a plate of leftovers in the oven for you.” Then the two of them leave after giving Wayne a hug. After waving them off from his front porch, he goes back inside to grab an energy drink and breakfast, Mmmm…still good the next day
After driving over to the Eastern range, Wayne pushes the cattle into the home range with the liberal use of his car horn, so that he can start laying the barbed wire around it. As he drives a wide circle around the homestead, collecting stray cattle, he dumps off a roll of barbed wire every quarter mile or so. Stopping only once to shoot a coyote trying to stalk his herd, damn things are getting worse than the Mexican rustlers!
Wayne spends the rest of the day unrolling barbed wire and pegging it to the ground in the hot late spring sun. Gathering a few nicks on his arms, even through his thick work gloves. Every now and again swinging the hatchet for its intended purpose, to clear away brush from where he has to run the loops of barbed wire. Fuck this is making my sweat sting, he thinks as he waves at his wife and son coming home that afternoon.
“Papa papa!,” Wayne looks up a short while later to see his son running towards him with a cloth-wrapped bundle and thermos, having run down the corridor of barbed wire that leads from the house area to the outside of the ring Wayne is making, “Mama said you probably forgot to eat, so she asked me to bring you supper!”
“You did good kiddo,” Wayne tells Paul as he takes the meal and puts it in the car. He ruffles Paul’s hair before saying, “Now run on home son, it will be dark soon and we don’t want your mom to worry. Tell her I will be inside in a couple hours.” Paul laughs and goes tearing off back home at a dead run, with the kind of energy that the universe seems to reserve for happy little kids.
Wayne finishes his meal as the sun sets, before turning on the truck to drive to the next roll and finish the last stretch of wire around the perimeter. The work is going slower, since he has to hammer in pegs in the semi-darkness cast by the headlights, but eventually he is down to the last roll. Almost done, just one last section and I can grab a shower before snuggling up with Pia in be–
There is a
His mind echoes. No, this must NOT happen!, rattling around it in some odd scramble of neurons, sounding like another voice speaking in words that take time for his shocked brain to process.
Got to get him off my hand, Wayne thinks, pushing futilely against the man’s foot trapping his pistol. But then his hair is pulled back from behind him, before a sharp cold pain cuts across his throat, “Don’t worry puta, the Cartel will make good use of your woman. I already know somebody interested in buying that sweet little piece of ass she gave you
Hear me, mortal. I can save them both, but there will be a cost. You will have to take up My burden, SHRIEKS the voice in Wayne’s head, sounding desperate even as the strange foreign-sounding words swim into comprehension inside of him.
With a gurgling voice, Wayne manages to croak out, “do it” to the bewildered look on the face of the man still holding his hair.
Then the world flashes to purest white.