Ch: 168 Such A Sweet Surprise
The orphan’s warcamp had become a comfortable base of operations, allowing the field teams of veterans to take shifts containing the constant stream of rising dead. They cycled the more advanced greenies through the teams in support roles to give them some safe seasoning. These wretched misfits were at least reliably weak.
Billy had his club at the front, mowing down the small group of shamblers. The kid was strong, but was wearing out fast, using an ‘iron rank weapon’ seemed to exhaust the unranked greenie fast, despite the feeble foes. His growth was pretty impressive afterwards, when the exhaustion passed from the lad he would last a little longer next time. There were a number of young heavy fighters, Rootedbear had taken him and a few others under his wing a bit.
Billy handed back the club with an exhausted smile when they called the return. “Good work kids. Fall back to camp in order.” Runningtree called, while the veterans swept the area one last time.
The gathering crew had collected a good number of wild mushrooms and hunted a big gator, stir fried waterlizard for dinner again.
Larksong and Evard slipped out of the trees, rejoining the formation, she gave a firm head shake, indicating nothing had changed at that bizarre and wicked ritual site in the moors.
When viewed from afar, the ritual site seemed to be the edge of a vast, half ruined necropolis… from every angle save the viewer’s.
A familiar aura of dread and horror plucked at their nerves when they circled the area, revealing the city of graves was some kind of illusion. The vision projected from the thing from every angle… or something.
No one could remain in its vicinity for long and a wizard had yet to appear, so it was whatever the hell it was. They worked on containment and did their duty. A quick roll call and head count on the march and they were back in camp an hour later. They passed the Fist on the way, taking a pack of greenies out for late patrol around the camp.
There was a trade barge on the way out of their little cove, so Runningree broke off for the command tent as soon as they passed the health screening at the gate.
She found old Lubu chatting with a man just as old and bald, though much shinier. He too was the color of well worn ebony, so dark that he gleamed. His bald pate was a gleaming expanse of smooth, unblemished skin.
“He must wax it.” She mumbled aloud, as she took an indelicate sniff of the old man when he rose to greet her. Tall and spare, he moved like a sailor, or with a dancer’s liquid grace, despite his age.
“I use an emollient blend from a local alchemist… the pleasant aroma is the best part…” He said with a smile. “Lubu and I were just discussing skin care. Amicus Fawn, master mage of Wheatford, adjutant administrator of the college there. I’m your wizard!” He said happily.
She looked him up and down, clad in sensible boots and common clothing, he seemed rather unwizardly, at first glance.
He winked at her suspicious stare. “I would have dressed for the occasion, but our mutual friend said you were a no frills operation.” The old man began idly patting himself here and there, as though searching his clothing for something. “Was Gary wrong about that? I might have a lovely silk robe and a pointy hat here somewhere…”
He turned around dressed in a long flowing robe of midnight blue. Spangled with embroidered stars and celestial symbols, it flowed into a ridiculously tall pointed hat, standing two feet above his already tall frame. “Better?” He asked with a smile.
“If I‘m honest, yes. It would be typical to send us some half trained apprentice or local crackpot.” She answered bluntly. “If you know that mad boy, maybe you will do in any case. What have you brought us?”
“Just myself… and a few scraps of paper.” He answered calmly. “I have a warrant co signed by duchess Sheng, with dukes Rummel, Belen and Mubarak, this action is now council sanctioned. The Fist has been commandeered for the duration of this action, as independents you can choose to conclude your contract with duke Belen, or join this action.”
“We are invested, we stay, I can speak for my troop.” She answered, relaxing at last.
“Good news all around then, the extended contract comes with all the usual bonuses and sweeteners, in addition to the ten percent council action bump.” The ever businesslike old man said with a wide grin.
“Money aside, we need it ended. Gods and spirits, this thing is unnerving.” Runningtree muttered
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“Yes, I’ve read your reports… I trust you will guide me out there for a look around tomorrow?” The old geezer asked with a smile. “I promise not to cause trouble. Unless it’s trouble you want from me.”
“Gods and spirits above, they did send a local crackpot…” She groaned, unwrapping a boney arm from around her shoulders.
#
Morning in the swamp was rather pretty… with stink magic and enchanted bug wards. Dry socks would have made it idyllic. They followed the well marked trail through the mires and waterways, splashing through silt darkened water and clinging mud.
Eventually they stood atop the only ‘rise’ in the area, a low hummock of rotting plant matter, overlooking the strange and uncanny meadow.
“Interesting…” Amicus muttered, wandering closer and eying the circle of trodden, dead ground and glass knobs rising from the turf. He paid close attention to the spot where the stream had cut through the circle, breaking its formation.
A shade rose from the undercut bank as the old man waded closer to the breach, its shadowed claws sizzled in the light as it reached for him. Calmly, he drew a wand from his sleeve and stuck it into the reaching thing. With a deft spin of his wrist, the creature twirled around the tip of his wand, which he plunged into the stream at his feet and swished around vigorously.
“These aren’t even real undead…” He called to the nervous warriors. “They are the dreams of some sleeping entity… one we should take care to not awaken until we know more.” He clambered back onto the bank and grinned.
“We should return to camp. I’m going to recommend a monitoring and suppression team remain at your lovely base camp, while you continue using these shades and wights for training. Please do not approach or molest this site.”
The ebullient old man kept up his chatter as they walked back to camp. “I’ll remain for a day or two, gathering a little more data, but it will come down to research and perhaps a bit of luck…”
“Do you know what it is, master Amicus?” Evard asked softly.
“Absolutely, it’s a demon or some form of outsider, summoned and bound here with necromantic energies. More important than what it is, we must discover who it is… this will be our challenge.” He answered glibly. “I see now why lord Marduk tasked me with this… how appropriate for my first task as a member of the cult of Knowledge!”
“You seem very happy about this abomination from beyond… master Amicus…” Rootedbear muttered unhappily.
“You should be too, I know the Fist is over the moon. A council warrant like this could go on for weeks and weeks… they may be set for life when their indentures end.”
“That assumes we won’t all be devoured, if and when whatever is out there wakes up.” Evard grumbled.
“On that we have few worries, the energies meant to awaken it are draining away, creating those undead manifestations. It is a problem, but a stable one. All in all, this has been a sweet surprise… here, have one of these pies… A shipment of them came with me, mock cherry, I believe.”
#
“So what happens to our ducal signet contract from Rummel? That was going to be a real payday…” Bronwyn griped.
Herve smiled patiently at his cranky heavy, she had been insufferable since she had tried swinging that boy’s sledgehammer.
“That contract rolled over our basic class C contract, well this one rolls over the other. We are going to come out of this with real money… the best part, baronet Willard only gets the class C contract, the rest is considered hazard bonus pay… it’s all ours, boys and girls…”
A deep sigh washed over the simple reed hut they were staying in, even Bronwyn smiled. Herve grinned even wider and handed Bronwyn a canvas wrapped object.
“The wizard brought us some stuff from that boy… ‘gifts’ he said. A club like the Bear’s and a bow just like Larksong’s sorry, no hammer lover.” He kissed his blonde braided woman on the cheek and smiled at his team. “This is our shot guys… let’s make it count.”
#
“No, chew slowly... Make it count…” Beni said with a grin flecked with black cloud fungus. “Hot and sour soup with magic mushrooms is even better…”
Rufus yipped a quiet bark of agreement. He liked his human name more than his pack name, Uff just lacked gravitas. Beni too had adopted many human ways, that made him an ideal partner for this job. Guiding the human exploration teams was easy money… as long as they didn’t spot any of lord Axio’s skull beetles skittering about.
Men get weird about their ancestor’s skulls being used for anything, even as wholesome a task as the fungus lord’s. Those skull constructs were everywhere, tending the moss and fungus, spreading seeds and spores, culling sickly specimens and transplanting wayward growth back where it belonged.
Their tireless efforts had transformed the empty, dusty valley of red barren soil and dry mesas, into a lush garden of fungus and foliage.
Arrow straight canals had been re-dug, connecting the long empty irrigation channels and spurring new growth everywhere. Wind and weather patterns had altered, bringing soft, misting rain up from the lowland valleys, along with a cooling breeze.
Rufus looked up at lord Axio’s verdant mesa, crawling with jungle life and the constant coming and going of his secretive minions. Humans felt a pall of forbiddance radiating from that ancient pile, while the coyote men were wise enough to leave the dead to their business without additional warnings.
“Is it really safe to eat that stuff?” Renaldo asked, poking a clump of the black, wiggly fungus in a crack between two stones.
“Try and find out for yourself… Even warm words are a poor substitute for hot soup.” Rufus said over his steaming mug.
“In one day we enter what men once called county Kinnis, a very long time ago… There, we will meet the rest of our clan and explore this place… cautiously. My kith and kin will depart if hostile forces appear. We will provide our skills to aid you and assist with exploration, but will not fight.”
“Understood, master Rufus… we should be adequately defended…” Renoldo shot a nervous glance at the silent, black shrouded Adventure specialist that had been stalking their party, rather than accompanying or escorting them.
“A dangerous woman…” Albert remarked in a whisper. “It feels like she’s looking beyond, into what’s coming next…”
“Courage brother. That clarity of purpose and focus will be our shield in the wilds.” Renaldo muttered, looking with awe at the sinister, dark figure watching over their camp with such intensity. “She seems so fiercely driven…”
#
Diane was miffed at getting drawn into this piddling escort contract, it was a job suited for a copper or even iron rank team, not a high tier bronze ranked specialist. ‘Damn Adam Belen and those dimples of his…’ She thought, as she planned out her sweet revenge on the beguiling priest boy.
“You’re an utter fool for a pert backside in a Healer’s robes…” She muttered to herself while watching the surprisingly competent coyotes set up camp.
Whatever was in that mesa felt benign and strangely familiar, as did the scuttling skull beetles toiling all around, just out of sight. She had bumped into enough harmless undead in her career to give them little thought.
That healer boy’s rump however… a low growl of pleasure drifted up from her veiled form, as she considered his fate at her hands.
#