Tristan awoke to the sound of snuffling. In a panic, he jumped to his feet, bashing his head first on the top bunk, then the roof. His grogginess fled at the double impact, but the noise had silenced the noise that had woken him up. Tristan looked around, trying to get his bearings, but the room he was in was completely black.

The snuffling returned, it was coming from above. Tristan extended his metal sense to encompass the area above the outpost. Eight wroughtwilers were sniffing around the area he had hidden. Another two entered his detection range and joined in the hunt. Fortunately, they seemed unable to comprehend that Tristan was below ground.

Normally their prey would have a burrow to hide in, but with a metal hatch covering the entrance, no such hole was visible. That was a good thing, the bad part was Tristan’s inability to do anything about it until he was fully healed. If there were only ten dogs, he believed he stood a chance of winning a fight. He would walk away injured and have quite a long healing time afterward.

The wroughtwilers provided an odd challenge. On one hand, they were less intelligent and lacked weapons, making them weaker than tier two humans. On the other, Tristan had no experience fighting skilled pack animals. He barely had experience fighting mythical beasts at all, at least none of the non-ghost crab variety.

Grimacing, Tristan decided to wait. He needed to see what else was in this outpost. It only possessed one room, but that room was three times longer than the bunks were. Tristan believed it would be odd for the little hidey hole to be unsupplied.

Groping around, he searched for a lamp of some kind. Whatever was used to light the room had to be essence powered, fire would be extremely foolish to use in these cramped confines. After finding nothing, he summoned Vulcan. He was not a fan of relying on the artifact at the current moment, but he needed light and the ethereal flame did not produce smoke.

Tristan leaned it up against one of the bunks and inspected his surroundings for the first time. Blinking, he stared at a dormant glow stone embedded into the ceiling. One step farther and he would have walked right into it. Unfortunately, he could not use glow stones, one needed a fire or light kern to use them.

The last two-thirds of the room had shelves just as deep as the bunks running along either side. Medical supplies took up one part of the top shelf. Bandages, painkillers, needle and thread, and disinfectant. Tristan’s healing alloy and consumption alloy made everything but the needle and thread pointless. Infections could be eaten by consumption and once he got his healing amulet recharged, most wounds wouldn’t faze him.

He was excited about what was right below the medical supplies. A large container with a spigot rested on the floor. He twisted the tap and expected water, so it came as a surprise when wine flowed out. It was cheap wine as well, most people wouldn’t drink this unless they were desperate.

“Why is there rum down here?” Tristan wondered.

He had just been muttering to himself, but a bored Vulcan decided to give him an answer anyway, “the alcohol makes it resistant to bacteria and mold.”

Tristan knew that. He just hadn’t put the pieces together yet. His mind had still been on the medical supplies and alcohol made a good disinfectant as well. Tristan did not know if it would be a satisfactory replacement for water. He felt like he would need to find a source just to be safe.

He found some water inside a few stone jugs. There were only three gallons, it would last him a day or two if he did not do much, but it was not the barrel of water he had been hoping for. At least he had already been planning on resting for the next day to heal up. Without the strain on his body, the healing alloy would not have to constantly heal the damage his movements and fights caused.

Beside the water was a crate of food. Mostly crackers, nuts, and a few other nonperishables. All of them were dry foods that necessitated the drinking of large amounts of water. None of the food was seasoned either, it was just a large pile of food designed to get warriors back home. Tristan supposed that it did its job on that account.

Stolen story; please report.

On the opposite side of the aisle were clothes. Thick green canvas pants and jackets alongside several different boots. Tristan had expected weapons, but truthfully, he was happier about the clothes. Winter would return as soon as Viral left, having something to wear was an immense relief.

Grabbing a jug of water, Tristan took a drink. In two days he would leave, but for now, he would take advantage of the safe place to rest.

For two days the wroughtwilers prowled around. They weren’t present all the time. Some would run off in ones and twos, but the whole pack only left one time. Before Tristan could capitalize on it, they returned with a four legged animal. Tristan assumed it to be a deer, but his metal sense only gave him a picture of the anemic iron in its bloodstream. Assuming it was a deer that had fattened itself up for winter, the wroughtwilers would have two or three days worth of food. One or two days longer than Tristan’s water supply.

There was one good sign in the wroughtwilers wanting to stay here. No matter how much they were waiting for Tristan to poke his head up, they also needed water. With the amount they moved plus having metal fur, Tristan assumed that they would need a consistent supply.

He was not completely healed, but he still needed to get out. The issue he had was the dogs would be able to bite his head off, no matter what he did. Even if he did somehow get out of the short shaft, ten wroughtwilers was a bit much. Tristan simply could not dole out lethal injuries faster than they could swarm him. The result would be similar to the time the elementals had swarmed him in the battle against the Forest Caldera.

Tristan thought through his options with the supplies that he had. A knife, a barely charged tier fifteen artifact, medical supplies, alcohol, and some alchemy tomes. There was also a supply of canvas clothes, but Tristan doubted the cloth would be too useful. Nothing here would let him emerge safely, looking around he had a thought. Why did he need to leave?

He could lure the wroughtwilers underground, then kill them in the natural choke point of the shaft. The room he was in was eighteen feet long, nine feet wide, and six feet tall with the shaft forming a semicircular shaft on one side. The bunk beds and shelves took up three feet on either side of an aisle that ran down the center of the room.

Each bed was little more than two steel plates with bars separating them on each corner, with a few inches between the metal plate and the floor. Tristan rolled up the mattresses on the beds and stuffed them in the back corner. He then proceeded to dissect one of the bunk beds. Only one bed was needed for sleeping, and he could think of several uses for the poles and plates.

“Vulcan, I need to use your fire,” Tristan said.

He got back an impression of a raised eyebrow. It was an expression many children saw on their parent’s faces.

“Really?” Tristan said, then sighed, “Please, can I use your fire?”

“Yes, and because I am polite. Thank you for asking.”

Tristan grumbled as he scooped up the lamp post that he intended to use as a glorified welder. The first thing he did was cut the poles off the bed, leaving him with four six foot poles and two sheets of metal. He was surprised to find that the poles were solid, if Tristan had been commissioning the furniture he would have utilized pipes. They were cheaper, lighter, and would still hold a normal warrior’s weight.

He would not complain about receiving an improvised spear. Using his knife he sliced away the ends. It was odd to whittle metal in the same way most people could whittle wood. Tristan was surprised at how relaxing it was to make the spears. While he needed them to survive, nothing was breathing down his neck. The wroughtwilers would not find the shaft until he allowed them to.

Once the four spears were sharp, he cut grooves into the point. They would not reduce the sharpness much, but they would be great for holding the decay alloy construct he intended to stab the mythical beasts with.

Now for the welding. Tristan took one of the metal sheets used on the beds and laid it down on its side. He slid it up against the shaft so that the lower three feet of the entryway would be blocked off. Tristan would have no issue stepping over it, but the wroughtwilers would have to jump.

He superheated the pointed butt of the lamp post and started welding the metal sheet to the metal frame of the shaft. Once he was satisfied Tristan placed the other sheet perpendicular to the first, covering half the open shaft. He did not intend this one to be permanent and simply braced it upright with the other bunk. This left a foot-and-a-half gap that he could stab through, but hopefully, the wroughtwilers would struggle to jump through.

Was it perfect, no. Would it work? Well, it should. Tristan took a deep breath and prepared to face the pack.