The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows as the travelers glimpsed their destination. It appeared first as a smudge on the horizon, a dark brown mound that grew clearer as they approached. A town wall that starkly contrasted the nearby fields of yellow wheat and green corn. What they saw was a town, or what passed for one, encircled by walls of wood—rough-hewn logs and planks hastily thrown together in a semblance of fortification. Most of the construction was new, but there were bones of old earthworks intermingled.

As they drew nearer, the details of the fortifications became clearer. The walls, though sturdy, were cruder than Liam thought possible, bearing rough chop marks and twine that was already coming loose. There were no watchtowers to speak of, no great gates to guard against invaders—only a single entrance, and a platform that would have made an OSHA inspector weep, if their heart didn’t stop completely. It looked more like a barber shop awning than a platform to fight from. Two green giants, Orcs, stood atop the wall, one picking his nose as they watched the caravan approach.

Liam glanced back, finding his paladins in full armor and hardened eyes. They were ready to serve Taloc’s bloody purpose. A bit too ready by the look of Owen’s grimace.

“We’ll try talking first. Taloc has enough enemies already. Do not make more.” Ordered Liam, his wagon taking the lead as a dozen men and women dismounted.

Six magi flanked his wagon, with six knights templar to stand as their mundane shields.

The orc flicked a boogey towards Liam, his beady eyes narrowing as he looked the caravan up and down, finding the humans to be unworthy. He bared his yellowed tusks in a sneer, waving a blade that looked to be a wheelbarrow pounded into a hatchet.

"'Ere now, wot’s all this, den?" he snarled, his voice rough and guttural. "You gits can’t be loiterin' round ‘ere! This ‘ere’s me boss’s pantry! Yer shiny tin cans’ll muck up me fun-gus! Ain't got time fer no humie nonsense neither. Yer all just gonna scare off da framers wiv yer glowy bits! So clear off, before I ‘ave to krump ya meself!"

Liam couldn’t help himself.

He laughed.

Startling Owen, the magi, and the two orcs.

It was just absurd, too absurd!

There was a half literate orc telling him to go away. Of all the portal creatures, of dinosaurs, dragons, gorgons, and demons, this orc took the crackpipe cake.

“Uh, m’lord are you alright?” Asked Owen.

“Peachy!” Cried Liam, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, “Three weeks on the road and the greenskin thinks our stench is too pure for him!”

That got a chuckle from Velena, though she was polite enough to conceal it behind her hand. A gesture neither orc appreciated.

The orc’s eyes narrowed to slits, his snarl deepening. “Oi, ya shiny gitz! Keep yappin’ like that, an' I’ll be usin’ yer skulls as me new mugz! Ye lot ain’t nuttin' but a bunch of squirrel herders wiv brains smaller than a shizno’s toenail! Go run back ‘ome an’ take turns kissin' dat whore you call yer mum!”

Velena winced, Owen blinked, and Liam raised his finger.

“I’m done talking to you, go get your boss.”

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The orc burst into a raspy, guttural laugh. “Oh, look! Da lil humie’s got a finger an' he finks pointin' it’ll do summin'!” he jeered, his voice dripping with mockery.

Without warning, the orc spun around, dropping his ragged trousers and mooning the paladins with exaggerated glee.

"‘Ere’s wot I fink o’ yer threats! Go ahead, point all ya want, but this is da closest yer gonna get to winnin' any fight wiv me! Kiss it if ya fink it'll bring ya luck!"

Liam smiled, deciding that lightning was too clean a death for this orc. He’d been considering a new way to wield his magic, Pandora had surprised him with an immunity to lightning, so he was always on the lookout for new ways to weaponize his other affinities. But had thought some tactics too cruel. Until now, when he made the orc explode.

It was an easy feat, first hit the orc with a thin bolt of lightning, lethal to a man and probably just paralyzing to an orc. Then he summoned a two foot spike of quartz, launching it with all the momentum his earth affinity would allow. Which turned out to be faster than an arrow. The spike cored the orc like one might core an apple; if you then took a fifty pound sledgehammer and piledrove the apple immediately after.

Green viscera and whatever goop passed as orc blood splattered across the wooden gates and the second orc. Who had –until a moment ago– been entirely focused on cheering his mate on.

“I said, Go. Get. Your. Boss.” Repeated Liam, enunciating his words carefully.

“Sod off whoreson!” Said the second orc.

Whether the orc was too dumb to comprehend fear, or too brave to answer any other way, did not matter.

“Fine, I'll announce myself. Not the first time I've done this shit.” Snapped Liam, slaying the second orc with a lightning bolt.

“Ya know, I like this kind of talking first. It gets right to the point.” Said Owen, a grin plastered across his face.

“Seconded!” Said Velena.

His quip stole some of Liam’s fury, and the elf strode towards the gate, assessing its construction. It was built by farmers to keep wolves out of their streets, but the gaps between logs were wide enough to shoot arrows through, entirely unsuitable. Liam closed his eyes, kneeling and placing both palms on the ground. He wasn’t sure if physical contact helped, but figured it was one less variable to worry about.

He thought back to college, in order to earn his associates degree he’d been forced to take a ‘fine art’ class, and his election had been sculpting, after failing the painting class… The only F on his entire transcript. He’d hoped to progress past the paint by numbers books of his early childhood, and found the college professor entirely unwilling to deal with his incompetence. But sculpting, that had been a delightfully tactile arena. They’d used clay and while his classmates were trying to recreate marble statues, Liam had used the time to study anatomy, sculpting 1:1 scale recreations of bones. A pastime he hadn’t realized was morbid until Sarah made him put the clay bones in a box. With a lid. Then tucked it away in the darkest corner of the closet.

Presently, Liam envisioned two quartz chisels rising from the earth, severing the disaster of a gate from the rest of the wall. Wood cracked and broke, lashings snapped, and two thirty foot columns of quartz rose from the earth, utterly shattering what had once been a gate. Timber crashed, and Liam caused the ground to swallow up the wood. Earth shifted as it squiremed around the rough hewn trees and even rougher planks. The next phase took inspiration from the Duke’s mortuary, quartz towers rose from the earth, sand flowing through ground to meld into crystalline covalent bonds, and over the course of ten minutes a quartz gatehouse, complete with quartz doors and two towers stood to welcome Liam.

Doors that swung open under Liam’s power. Task complete, he stood, feeling a bit woozy from the mana drain.

Still too young for feats like this.

“Owen, I think I overexerted myself a little.”

“A little? By Taloc’s balls man!” Exclaimed Owen.

“Just a smidge, clear out the town, if the rest of the orcs are smarmy assholes kill them. Apparently being capable of speech is no longer a sign of intelligence.” Groaned Liam, returning to the wagon where he found Felix clapping and a sabertoothed serval that was cowering behind the child. As if he’d understood magic.

“And maybe being mute doesn’t mean you’re unintelligent.” Muttered Liam, ruffling Felix’s hair. “Can you see magic with that third eye of yours?” Asked Liam, earning a nod from the serval.

“That was awesome! Do it again!!” Shouted Felix.