Ch: 157 A Man Of Means, By No Means
Emma made an outrageous outburst in reply to a simple offer, one that came instinctively and from a very honest and open place. “...Enchanted weapons, my sweet aunt Fannie’s plump arse!”
“Colorful outbursts aside, yes. Enchanted tools, armor and charms are what we are offering, in addition to our line of potions and curatives, rations and travel aids.” Becky fixed Emma with a penetrating look.
“Weapons were specifically left unmentioned. I am aware of this afternoon’s debacles.” She scanned the group of suddenly restless women with her eyes once more, before continuing.
“Lord Marduk is quite put out by the whole event. We will be discussing matters of safety with our friend when he is feeling stronger but let me be clear from the outset.”
The small woman seemed to loom larger in the pleasant taproom, casting a shadow far larger than she should have been able.
“The Ginger Dreadnought Company will not provide enchanted weapons, save those intended to combat the restless dead and the immaterial. Special requests will be considered on a case by case basis.”
“You wish us to purchase these trinkets?” The countess muttered. “Present your sales pitch to the cult of War, we have weightier matters to consider than camp stoves and fairy stories. Enchanted indeed…”
“Not a sales pitch, an investment opportunity. If you give the Orphan’s League and the Adventure Guild full control over your orphanages’ curriculum and Contract negotiations; we will outfit a band of your warriors and train them in the use of the tools.” She smiled at the noblewomen warmly.
“We will offer a similar deal to the other nobles, but you get first refusal, because you are Tawny’s friends. If you prove yourselves reliable, some of our more interesting toys may become available.”
“You want control of our orphanages?” The countess muttered. “Why? We don’t produce elite warriors like Wheatford…”
“That’s precisely why. You see simply common orphans, sent to be common soldiers in War’s legion… grist for the mill. We see our brothers and sisters, bound in tears and sent to die.” The tiny, pretty girl with the colorful beads in her hair settled a grim look on the four women gathered around her.
“The Orphan’s League has finally awakened and Adventure stirs in its long slumber. The tide of this war turns on what you ladies decide, you have the power here, the power to change the course of War’s long, bloody conflict.”
Becky’s firm, level gaze swept the room, bearing and almost physical weight somehow.
“I say you have the power and I mean it. You can be among the first to set your feet on the path of victory… whose houses will be remembered by generations to come.” She added with a gentle smile.
“What do you mean by that… high priestess?” Jaspreet asked cautiously. Even a bride with her wedding party would be wise to step with care among the clergy.
“Indentured orphan slave soldiers…” Becky said coldly. “Generations yet unborn will look on these days and wonder at the immorality and horror of what has been done for so terribly long.”
Cold bitter fury lurked around the edges of her strangely compelling voice. “Those eyes of future history will see whose feet were turned into the rising sun, to face a new day… and who attempted to drag us back into darkness.”
She smiled, shattering the portentous mood with a giggle. She brandished the shining rapier Emma had been playing with earlier in the day, wielding it with a deft grace her ladyship had failed utterly to display.
“Once we make this pitch to the other lords and ladies, I’ll be off to meet with the beastfolk shaman council, to offer them a similar arrangement. My noble ladies express disbelief at our talk of enchanted and magical items, yet these toys fascinated you to the point of doing injury to my lord’s servant…”
Becky casually stabbed the shining blade of silvered wood through Tawny’s abdomen.
“These toys were included to demonstrate in dramatic and clear ways what we can do… and what we will not do. We will not provide weapons which can be used to slay our brothers and sisters or oppress the people.”
While Jaspreet gaped in amazement and horror, Becky calmly unstabbed her smiling companion, dropping the sword back into Shai’s box of troublesome things.
“Armor and survival tools, potions and healing balms. Those are what we offer, for now. Again if you prove reliable… perhaps some of our more advanced items may become available.”
Emma spoke up again, with her fingers running over a spidersilk arming coat, designed to wear beneath armor. The smooth, tough cloth was hard to grab and hold, slipping through her grasp like water. “You make hints… priestess Becky, but what do you really offer here? Swords that can’t stab monsters do little for us.”
“We have no flaming swords or arrows of lightning to show you, good ladies… Our effects are subtle, but potent in their own right. Survival is the first priority, since warriors who do not return cannot battle tomorrow’s threats.”
Becky’s smile returned, making the room seem even brighter. “Please, join us for tea on the patio, brother Dannyl is playing his guitar out there, there will be a glorious sunset… it would be a shame to miss the show...”
Their hosts withdrew just a little, sitting on the patio in a loose group, as the beautiful young boy lifted sweet stirring music into the afternoon sun.
Tawny and her friends chatted and whispered while Ivy, Dannyl and Liam listened to the music and swayed to their brother’s art.
#
“Gary, wake thyself.” Shai said softly.
“Mm? Yah love?” He murmured, adrift in the pool’s swirling hot water.
“Gary, why did ye craft this thing?” She demanded not very gently, holding up the beautiful, mostly harmless dagger.
“S’ for Tawny, fer banishing the undead…” He yawned deeply and held out his arms, silently imploring her to join him in the water. “Nobody likes the dead, especially when they start roaming around and making trouble.”
“This knife be made fer killing, nae banishing. Speak plain boy, fer I am wroth with thee. I do think ye hae been crafting yer own end in this thing. I fear that this, as well as some others, are fer naught but thee.” She whispered.
“That’s crazy, lover… we just keep running into the undead, if I weren’t around… that slug could have wiped the group. I can’t be the only one that can deal with shades and ghosts too, those would have been a problem.”
“Boy, thy first gift tae me were Yorik’s Spade, yer sweet, undead bashing murdershovel. Now, I do look back an see, ye hae been looking to yer future… an see only dark things.” She dropped the dagger into the pool, watching as it dissolved away into nothing.
“Thy family will keep thee in the sunshine, walking among men. An there comes a day that ye must be eased into the next world, I shall be there wi thee, none other.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she was already leaving. “Dinnae test me on this, I hae little wish tae revisit this matter. Thy life is mine.”
She didn’t slam the door, stomp or stalk away. She walked with a firm gait and in silence, her bells falling still despite her brisk motion.
“As you wish...” He grumbled, while darkness claimed him again.
#
Ducky and Thirp were waiting for him in the other place, they were cross as well. “Shai showed us that thing you made…” The spider goddess began softly, until Marduk butted in.
“I‘d call you a fool, but that was just self-destructive. Would your ‘Superman’ become a Kryptonite miner? As well place a blade at your own throat and dare people to jiggle your elbow.” He fumed and raged, stomping his little golden sandals.
“Just because I don’t Need to dwell inside you anymore, doesn’t mean I am ready to see your light sputter out.”
“Poor little Rio had to pluck that weapon from your body, before it unraveled you entirely, the little dear. You owe Shai and your children better than the way you have treated them.” Thirp sang sweetly, really hitting those uplifting major chords, before shifting into an ominous dirge.
“You owe Me better than that as well, Gary.”
“Ouch… ok, looking back, I can see how those weapons and tools could seem a little… ominous. But unless I’m really working on a specific design they are kinda a little random… whatever my subconscious mind thinks would be needed… ohh…”
The gods watched calmly as he stumbled over his own metaphorical shoelaces, after tying them together himself.
“Ok, in hindsight… It’s probably best if I pay more attention to what’s going on inside me… It’s kinda weird that you guys are watching what I do all the time… ”
“Yes, Gary, we have been watching… your show is compelling, a number of entities have been tuning in to watch…” Maple sang out, from her place on Becky’s island. “It could be that somewhere, on some distant world, some surviving relative of yours is dreaming under the spreading boughs of one of my many sisters. Perhaps such a one is a poet, or a writer, who will spill their dreams across a page… Such dreams are often the source of your cultures’ songs, novels and stories.”
“Uhh…” Gary mused, with the wit and wisdom oft found in the stories of legendary heroes.
“Never mind her,” Thirp snapped, glaring at the dryad. “Your concerns are valid, you could, if different choices are made… become something truly awful and unpleasantly pernicious.”
Marduk sighed sadly. “Tales of undead lich kings are not simply legends… they have appeared in the past. But to become such, one must dedicate themselves to that path… do you see yourself cultivating in a manner that could lead there?” He cocked a golden eyebrow at the poor fool. “Morrigan’s influence is feeding into your broody, melodramatic nature, just as Joy has influence on other aspects.” He smiled sadly. “Until you complete that Contract and can be free of her, you will need to monitor your own mental health a little better…”
“And apologize to your entire family… Your entire family, mind you.” Thirp remarked, tapping a distressing number of toes at him.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Yes, your highness, I abjectly and completely regret being a big blubbering mess, I beseech your divine grace and forgiveness.” He murmured, while gathering his friends in for a good long hug.
“Shai is gonna be super pissed…” He whispered as he woke.
#
“Shai is gonna be super pissed…” He murmured in his sleep, as he began to stir.
“Aye, she is indeed! Now rise an dress, boy, ye must eat an regain yer strength, a playful kitten could slay thee, as ye are.” She grumbled.
“Yeah, ‘m pretty weak… is it the blood and loins menu?” He asked while struggling into his clothes with her gentle assistance.
“Nae, just the blood, yer loins be nae my concern til thy mind be righted.” She grumbled.
“I’d hae thee alive, ere I simply hae thee.”
“Help me out here love…” He said softly.
“I mean, I’ll nae share yer bed till ye stop trying tae end yer own life. I’ll nae be widowed ‘ere I’m wed, boy.” Her hurt and fury washed over him in waves, followed by worry and an overwhelming sense of loss.
“Shai, I was in a really low place for a long time, living in the dark… I need you and the others to keep me pointed forward…” He wrapped her in a gentle hug, since he was too weak to do any more and was about to fall down.
“I can’t deny that there could be a day when… I’m not ok anymore… but I’m not gonna keep looking back. Forward lover, forward into whatever comes next, you and me all the way.”
He felt her relax into his arms, sobbing gently along with him, right up until they landed onto the mossy turf.
“Hmph…” Shai grumbled as they picked themselves up, or rather she picked him up. “Here, I’m thinkin a proper gentleman would hae caught his lady love, an she swooned.” She swatted his ass a few times to make certain he was moving under his own power.
“Come boy, I’d feed thee… an aye, tis the blood an the loins. Glad I am, that ye dinnae call me bluff.”
#
Tawny and the four ladies of the wedding party were in the taproom, discussing and debating the things that had been learned and offered. The rest steered wide of the table of peers, by preference and custom.
Gary and Shai joined the cluster of tables holding their kin, squeezing in with the kids and Becky.
After a moment, Tawny abandoned her guests with murmured apologies and slipped into the small crowd of diners.
“Gary…” Becky began firmly, only to be silenced by Shai taking her hand gently and shaking her head.
“He hae seen his error an come around.” She dangled a thin strip of crayfish in the bubbling hotpot in the center of the table, from a long pair of chopsticks. “Now he need only beg the forgiveness of the company.” She mused, with a delighted twinkle in her eye.
She continued working as the others eyed the boy up and down in disgruntled amusement. Even the little ones were fixing him with uncomfortable stares of immense superiority. Shai finished her task and placed a wide, shallow bowl with a mound of sticky, coconut rice in the middle, on the table in front of him.
The shining white hemisphere rose from a moat of spicy broth, loaded with thin sliced meat and vegetables. The cruel woman placed her creation just out of his reach, while gently smiling and tapping her chin with a spoon of carved olivewood.
“I am deeply sorry that I distressed and upset you all with my foolishness and self indulgent moodiness.” He said clearly and sincerely, while his gaze locked onto the steaming culinary vista laid out before him.
“If you forgive me, I will do my very best to eat that… to do better and not do self destructive… Is that sliced deathshead locust?” His voice became thick, as drool clogged the noisy parts.
“Go on boy, eat…” Shai laughed, sliding him the bowl and spoon with a kiss. “Dinnae vex me such any more, lad.”
#
“They really are a family… I thought it some strange boast…” Emma murmured in wonder, as Tawny was blowing on Amy’s spoon full of rice and broth, while Rio fumbled with chopsticks on her lap.
Ivy was doing the same for her giant man, sitting on his lap and feeding him, for which Dannyl and Becky abused the big man mercilessly.
Liam was loading a bowl for Tawny, while being instructed in no uncertain terms to increase his own portion. The countess Lakshmi blushed prettily when Tawny went on to explain why.
“I heard you ask Gary to take in the seat of your pants… I had him let them out for a reason. That rock hard backside is in need of a bit of softening!”
Watching the duchess heir whack her boyfriend between the eyes with Amy’s spoon was more than any of them could stand. In the rough and tumble, happy mess, Tawny fit in too perfectly, becoming simply a pretty girl with her family.
“I’m sold.” Lady Emma whispered. “Even if they offered nothing… I want what they have.”
“I have been gently shoving Abed in this very direction since I began my charity work in his orphanage…” Jaspreet answered gently. “The conditions there were… I don’t have a polite word for it.”
“My family’s more conservative members may resist…” Baroness Leticia looked a little uncomfortable, feeling a bit of a voyeur. “Should we leave… it’s getting pretty awkward… socially. I did stab one of them.”
“About that…” Tawny said softly, having extracted herself during their discussion. “I would prefer if as few rumors of today’s events escaped as possible… that is, of course a foolish wish.”
Her gentle smile became just a bit predatory. “Failing that, I would wish that as many and widely varied rumors as possible should spread. My ladies will serve our host and hostess best, by simply speaking the unvarnished truth of today’s events when asked. Or lie creatively.”
“That’s my girl…” Jaspreet whispered happily, glowing with joy.
#
Notice: Curse: Sacred Stricture concluded at dawn, it has been replaced by Curse: Penitent Chain.
Curse: Penitent Chain. Target may not consume or absorb any natural sentient being for one day. Curse ends at dawn.
“What the hell was I afraid of turning into?” Gary whispered to himself, as he dismissed an avalanche of messages.
“Boy, that knife were awfully blessed and terribly cursed. What ‘ere ye wrought on it were bad fer thee.”
“The rest of the props are only dangerous to ghosts. To me they’re just wooden swords.” He shrugged. “They’ll beat the ectoplasm out of a ghost though. A wooden sword cuts them even deeper than iron would, ‘cause it’s cleanly dead.”
He stretched in the morning sun, still in bed with Shai with the windows flung open to the breeze. “I’m still cursed til dawn tomorrow. I can’t eat or absorb any sentient beings or suffer some nasty result… I didn’t look at what comes next if I do.”
“Oh? Ye kinnae devour sweet Shai… a pity, that… I’ll be havin a taste of thee, me boy!” She growled, as she rooted around in the bedding for something fun to play with.
#
The fist came around and smashed a knot of shamblers against that giant fringer, Rootedbear. His club dashed the things to the ground and even made them quickly decay into inoffensive soil. His band of tribals were as solid as any team Lubu had seen… and the old man had seen a lot.
The archer girl from their team was a nightmare for the stupid dead as well, plucking the real threats out at a distance. Larksong’s strange, exquisitely crafted short bow flung imaginary arrows that skewered and banished any shade or specter that dared show itself.
His expeditionary force was doing well; with few injuries, few illnesses, no casualties… save morale. The unending trickle of restless dead weighed down on the whole force.
The swamp kids, along to help with parasite control and to harvest the wretched beasts, seemed oddly steady. No doubt they were confident in their ability to slip past the slow moving wretches if need be.
The fighters were just tired. Even though they were simply weak and disgusting, the corpses that wandered in small groups were a constant nuisance. An alert warrior could destroy or evade the slow moving and pathetic things with ease. Even a healthy unranked adult with a farm implement could do for a few of them unless caught unawares…
That meant alertness in the daylight hours and in the night, shades were an actual danger. Lubu had a gift from his Contract with the spirit of light, it had no effect on most creatures, but on shades and ghosts it was a stone killer.
Like Larksong, he could simulate drawing his bow and let fly a conjured arrow. His was a swift moving stream of short lived, sparkling light.
Any living thing would sparkle for a moment, in a pretty, but harmless display of flashing lights when struck. Intangible creatures of darkness reacted violently and spectacularly when pinned with his arrow.
Yet another black reaching shadow became a sparkling firework, crackling and popping bright and vibrant colors high into the night.
Any shambler or shade that bumbled into the sparkling display joined it, becoming another crackling pillar of energetic, contagious flame. Sadly, sniping the physical dead did nothing. Only the infrequent shadows were so delightfully, destructively pretty.
The intangibles sprinkled through the swamp were the problem. They had only a few solutions to them. His ability, Larksong’s bow and the big man’s club. The three of them were getting run down, as the action dragged on inconclusively.
Lubu was in his command tent, near the swamp kid’s camp and the healer’s tent. Their priest of Healer had been recalled, replaced with two lay brothers from a village shrine. That was no real surprise, but at least they had a good supply of those pink cubes. Those and the insect wards were doing more to keep his troop healthy than any number of lay healers could.
Supplies at least, were bountiful. When the greenies had arrived with Lubu riding at the head, they had found the Fist encamped in a cozy little seaside cove, with all the comforts a camp could provide. Folding campaign furniture, snug, well crafted tents and bedrolls… Even a camp stove and samovar that could either burn wood, or run on the mana of a warrior, in which case they produced no smoke or fumes.
And food… The Fist had been nearly buried in ground dragon meat: salted, smoked, dried, pickled, jerked, pounded into a powdery meal mixed with fruit and grains and even ‘freeze dried’, which was a light, puffy substance which could be crumbled into hot water to form a nutritious and strangely tasty gruel.
They had been generous with their surplus, extending and enhancing the orphan’s own rations… which were famously meager. They could requisition grains, flour, dried vegetables, salt and basic sundries all they wished, but requests for meat and fresh foods would start the supply chain creaking and groaning.
Likewise, clothing armor weapons and bedding could be requested and would be billed… and likely would never arrive.
Now, he had small teams out looking for game and fishing, learning the skills the swamp kids had been born to. Trapping, fishing and hunting were filling their cookpots and his frugal supply orders from town were being filled without complaints.
Lean to’s and small huts were all over the small cove, forming a village of sorts. Some enterprising kids had cobbled together a clay oven and were churning out golden loaves of bread in the morning sun.
His little army of greenies were shaping into an actual force, for the first time in his long, long memory. Typically, the odds of an orphan coming in with a Contract were not good, most arrived un bonded and went to auction as such. As a result, most got the standard three from War and three from Order, when possible. He truly pitied the kids that got stuck with six from War.
This crop of greenies were all Contracted, at least once. He had a few that were nearing the cusp of iron rank… an unheard of event. He watched with pride, as his troop spread out and took their gifts and talents out for an airing.
He had a dozen familiars in the camp at least, probably more stealthy cats and lizards that he hadn’t spotted yet. The three with horse familiars were not able to pretend they were anything else.
The wolves, bears and big cats were doing a great job of alerting his kids to any threat, taking much of the burden off his few aged veterans, pensioners that had donned their old gear and come out for a bit of the old days.
Right on time, the barge from Port Clement tied up to the convenient, if slightly ramshackle pier that had been there when they arrived
“Delivery from the trade boat sir, from Wheatford… says to give it to you directly. Looks like a bundle of sticks.” Timmy was a sharp kid, Lubu felt smarter for picking him as his aide, most days. Sometimes, the kid was as dumb as a box of rocks.
“Sticks with strings, handgrips and notches for bowstrings? They’re practice bows, boy. Why they sent those to me, I’ll never guess. No time for archery drills here.” He complained mildly.
Any non noble field commander could always expect to get sent rubbish, to pad the books, or unload inventory that was otherwise unwanted. Paper pushers seldom cared if they were disrupting his work, as long as their precious books came out balanced, they were comfortable sending him whatever they wished. A tag dangled from the bundle; he grabbed it and glared… “Any of your kids read?” He asked.
“I… I do sir.” Timmy muttered softly, clearly embarrassed.
“Good! Read that, be quick boy.” The old man’s eyes kept scanning the treeline, from his open sided command tent. Not having to worry about the damn skeeters was a victory all its own.
“It’s pretty silly sir… some kind of joke.” Timmy blushed, and read when Lubu shot him a glare.
“Please give these to The Fist, they are not practice bows. It’s signed Ginger Dreadnought.” Timmy shrugged. He flipped the dangling card on a string, reading the other side.
“Quiet Harvest, enchanted bow, spiritual enchantment. Rank: unranked. Rarity, common. Elemental affinities: Earth, Water, Wind, Life, Death.
Effect, Ghost Whomper: Undead and spiritual entities may be struck with this weapon, or its projectiles regardless of tangibility.
For a minor mana and stamina cost wielder may conjure an immaterial arrow on the bowstring. Arrow impact is harmless to living entities and non living objects.
Undead entities struck by this weapon or its projectiles may be afflicted with: Spectral Decay.
Spectral Decay: Affliction, causes rapid dissolution of undead matter and energy. Base chance to inflict: twenty percent, scaled against: Rank, Will, Mind, Animus, Might and Resilience. Incorporeal or intangible entities can be affected.”
“That makes less sense…” Timmy muttered, flipping the card back and forth.
“Call in the Fist… and Larksong. Our mad friend may have sent us some help.” The old man grumbled. “Mad wizards, hedge witches… enchanted bows… I’m too old for all this rot…”
#
An hour later, the Orphans were trading off, potshotting any wanderer that shambled in through the bush. The kids eagerly watched the treeline, waiting for a shot, woe to the kid that missed. They would have to hand the toy bow off to the next in line, to take their turn flinging imaginary arrows at the dead.
The whole feeling of the camp changed, as an archer armed with one of the simple bows went out with the next patrol; giving the three veterans who had been on incorporeal dead duty, the chance to rest for the first time in days.
A dozen childrens’ practice bows turned a constant slog into a training exercise, though one with an unknown source and ending.
“Take tomorrow, rest… then I want you out searching for where all these corpses and shades are coming from… We’ll need a wizard to resolve this, they won’t send one until we have the solution for them.” Lubu muttered.
Herve and Runningtree nodded, this was a known thing. Mages, clerics and Order knights could deal with the dead far better than common troopers or Adventure bands, yet… Mages, clerics and Order knights were by definition, the nobility. Getting them out in the mud to smash a few wandering cadavers and wights without a real threat to trade or their lands was a big ask. One that would be answered very firmly and derisively at best.
“Huh… Enchanted bows…” Herve mumbled, as the two team leaders walked out to relay their orders to their gathered bands.
“Those kids are very odd… did you meet the mushroom man?” Rootedbear asked, while he smiled at some fond memory.
“Uhhh… is that the musician’s deal? Whacked out on mushrooms?” Herve wondered aloud. “That would make a lot of sense…”
#