Redmane came to the outer wall of Barograd and looked up.
Dawn was close. The sky shone bright blue over the tops of the crenelations.
He’d come to this spot to scale the wall, begin with a good vantage point. Walking in the front gates would have been more direct, but he’d lose the element of surprise and wouldn’t have as fine a view. While he was thinking about it, he selected beastmen as Prey again. And then he put the axe of Morholt on his back so he could sink his claws into the stone and climb.
Halfway up the wall, it occurred to him that he could have used Carnivorous Metamorph to sprout wings. But perhaps it was better this way. His Gnosis was already near empty.
You have entered Dungeon: Barograd Township (Rank 1)
Tasks:
1. Slay Burgomaster Sigvar
2. Slay Pietr, High Priest of Kraal
3. Slay Agneszka the Stitcher
4. Slay Powder Keg Pavel
Tasks Completed: 0/4
The list of Tasks appeared to him as soon as he came up onto the wall. So this place had four masters. Not so different from Häerz Castle, except in that case one of those had been hidden.
Perhaps there would be hidden ones here too. The place was large enough…
There were also allies down there. Valtr and Vengarl’s comrades, Radovid, Irina and Vella.
Redmane looked out over the town’s densely packed rooftops. Narrow streets wound between them, their course decided by the hilly terrain. The Bear River ran straight through the town in a gentle S curve, dividing it into northern and southern halves which were connected by a wide central stone bridge. Two lighter wooden bridges sat on the east side of the central bridge, and there was one more on the west side. The town had its own Keep on the south side of the river, built up against the southwest corner of the town wall.
But he only had a moment to appreciate the view.
He heard soldier’s boots approaching. Two of them walking in step with each other.
Redmane looked around. Spied the squat roof of the guard tower next to him, and leapt up onto it.
“Do you believe what they’re saying?” one said to the other. Redmane recognized the familiar distortion in his voice. A beastman.
“Hard to imagine it,” said the second. “Hard to imagine Lord Morholt layin down for it either.”
They came around the corner and into view. Two town guards, with mail shirts and Morholt tabards. They had swords belted at their waists, and the one on the right had a long dagger tucked into his belt on the opposite side.
Beastman Soldier
Monster Type: Corrupted
Level 30
“Classic case of clergy gettin ideas above their station,” the second guard added.
The first shook his head. “Pietr says the master is close. Any time now he’ll appear. Morholt won’t stand no chance against him, he says. No one will.”
“Well what happens after that?”
“Then the master takes command, and we go out and conquer the whole world.”
The second guard let out a guttural laugh. “Pietr got a good imagination, don’t he!”
The first looked panicked by his mate’s laughter. His gaze darted around, and then shushed him. “Watch what you say, are you mad?”
Redmane grinned down at them.
That one was right about one thing. The master was indeed here. But not the one they were expecting, perhaps.
He jumped down and landed in front of them. They halted immediately, looking up at him in alarm.
It wasn’t much of a fight.
Corpus: 5787
Redmane stood up from his snack and belched.
There would be more of those.
Stocking up on Corpus would be prudent. These Monsters kept hitting harder and harder, he’d have to keep up. The town was twice the size of Castle Barograd, perhaps he could spend the morning hunting beastmen. The simple size of the place ought to buy him more time before its defenders realized they were under attack.
Stalk would be most useful, but again, no Gnosis.
What was he going to do about that…
----------------------------------------
Magister Helmold sat at the table with Letha and her son, Kale. The three of them had finished breakfast together in a small dining room for servants, adjacent to the kitchen of Castle Barograd.
Helmold had seen to the mess in the kitchen before letting Letha try to cook. It wouldn’t do to let a lady labor in a charnel house.
As for the cries of help from young Aric Morholt, he’d done his best not to listen.
“That was a fine meal my dear,” he dabbed the corner of his mouth with his handkerchief, smiled at her. “You have a gift.”
Letha smiled back. “Twas no trouble my lord.”
He laughed, reached out and placed his hand over one of hers. She looked uncomfortable, but held the smile on her face anyway.
“No need to be humble. You’re as talented as you are lovely,” said Helmold.
Kale kicked his feet under the table, looking between his mother and the Magister curiously. “Hey ma, can I go up to the castle yard now?”
“Of course lad,” said Helmold. “Run along now.”
Kale blinked, looked between Helmold and his mother. He could see the stress on her face, but he didn’t appear to understand why it was there.
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“Ma?”
Letha nodded quickly. “Go ahead dear. Mind those hounds, they aren’t the playful sort.”
Kale lingered a moment, an eyebrow raised at her peculiar facial expression. Then he shrugged, hopped off the chair, and scampered out of the kitchen.
Helmold’s eyes followed the child as he ran off, then they slid back to Letha and his smile returned.
“Would you like some tea?” she asked.
“That would be splendid,” said Helmold.
She quickly rose and put a kettle on the fire, fetched mugs and tea and honey. Helmold made smalltalk with her while they waited for the water to heat, but his eyes continually roamed over her body in ways that made her keep her gaze fixed on the kettle. In a few minutes she served the Magister a steaming mug of tea, and sat down with one of her own.
“Many thanks,” he said, smiling as he held the mug. “Forgive me for being so forward, miss, but are you wed?”
Letha hesitated. She stared at her empty plate.
“Kale’s father died in a battle,” she said.
“Ah, I see. My condolences to you. So, you’ve no one to care for you and the lad?”
Letha smiled thinly. “We get along fine, my lord. Kale’s a good boy, he’s no trouble.”
“Surely it would ease your burden if there were a gentlemen in your life, yes?”
His smile changed character. Letha seemed to understand the intent behind it. She shifted in her seat uncomfortably.
Kale’s little footsteps echoed back toward them, running at full tilt.
“Ma!” he yelled out. “MA!!”
Alarmed, Letha’s gaze snapped to Kale as he rounded the corner back into the little dining room.
Kale was huffing and puffing, his little face flushed. “Ma… There’s a HUGE flower in the castle yard! It’s comin up out of a bush! And the bush got these blue fruits sproutin all over it! Ma, the flower’s the size of a whole pumpkin!”
Kale held his hands way out to his sides, pantomiming a grip on a pumpkin bigger than his own body.
Surprise shone on both Letha and Helmold’s faces. Letha looked at the Magister curiously.
“My lord, have you planted something… Magic related, in the castle yard?
Helmold shook his head, looking as mystified as Letha.
But he was trying to do something here. This flower nonsense could wait.
“Stay clear of that flower, lad,” he said. “Until I’ve had ample time to examine it and determine its qualities. It may well be harmful to touch, or even smell!”
Kale’s eyes went wide. “Truly?”
“Truly,” said Helmold. Then he smiled. “Now, be a good lad and go play.”
Kale’s eyes darted between his mother and Helmold a few more times. Letha gave him a small nod, and with that he scurried off again.
Helmold grinned and again placed his hand over Letha’s. “Now then, where were we…”
Letha slipped her hand away and stood, gathering the dishes. “I’m sorry my lord,” she said, in as polite a tone as she could manage. “There’s much work to be done and it seems I’m the only one left to do it.”
Helmold blew out a sigh, sat back in his chair and watched Letha busy herself.
She was a fine lass. Young and fit. Trim waist, child bearing hips.
It’d be a shame if he had to force the issue. But if he must, he must.
For the moment he simply watched, considering his options. And then again, the sound of a child’s hurried footsteps came pelting back down the hallway.
Gods, that brat was beginning to get on his nerves…
“MA!! There’s people in the yard! Loads of em!!”
That got both of their attention.
Helmold and Letha turned to see Kale, his little hand braced on the doorframe, huffing and puffing a second time.
“People?” said Helmold.
Kale looked up at the Magister, nodding vigorously. “A whole train of em! And they look haggard! There’s two in the lead, I think they’re warriors!”
Helmold and Letha looked at each other. For the moment the tension between them stood aside, replaced by this new problem.
“I’ll greet them,” said Helmold. “You and the lad stay down here, in case.”
Letha smiled, and Helmold saw some sincerity in it this time.
Progress.
He’d make her feel grateful in other ways soon. But this was a start.
Helmold rose from his chair, made sure his face was free from crumbs. He bowed floridly to Letha and then turned with a swish of his cloak to go and see about these unexpected guests.
When he climbed the stairs and emerged into the castle yard, his eyebrows went up.
Fifty some people milled about in a group, men, women and children of all ages. They were dirty and tired. Many had angry red marks around their wrists, as if they had been bound.
In the rear of the yard, by the kennels, Helmold spied the flower little Kale came running to tell them about.
In truth its bud was even larger than a pumpkin. It was a brilliant shade of green, and had yet to bloom. The flower was ringed by small bushes bearing dozens of ripe blue fruits about the size of plums. The unnaturally vibrant color of the fruits and the flower suggested Gnosis.
Curious.
But there would be time to examine that later. Two men approached Helmold from amidst the group of people, talking between themselves, a tall one and a stout one, both clad in mail and wearing weapons. They noticed Helmold at the same time he noticed them, and the tall one gave a genial smile and a wave as they came closer. Most likely they spotted each other’s System icons at the same time as well.
—
Valtr Khazador
Class: Hunter
Archetype: Marksman
Faction: House Redmane
Level: 31
Vengarl Khazador
Class: Hunter
Archetype: Trapper
Faction: House Redmane
Level: 31
—
Level Thirty One…
And House Redmane. So they had met the beast, and it approved of them. Unfortunate.
But, best to be polite. At least until one has the upper hand.
Helmold put a smile on his face and approached the two Hunters.
“Well met my lords,” he bowed to them. “Magister Helmold of House Redmane, at your service.”
----------------------------------------
Upon the wall there were two kinds of guards. Guards on patrol, and guards standing posts.
The former were easier to ambush. All Redmane had to do was hang over the side of the wall by his claws, or perch atop a watch tower, out of view. The latter group, the ones standing posts, required a careful approach. Often the paired guards would be gazing off in different directions, conversing with each other while they watched over the town below them.
Without Stalk, he had to be extra careful. And quick.
For the most part it was working. The guards who did spot him coming weren’t fast enough to raise a general alarm, and their posts were spaced far enough apart from each other that a sudden clash of weapons wouldn’t necessarily be heard.
He dragged them into their watchtowers to eat, and this too was quick.
Soon he’d amassed a respectable quantity of Corpus.
Corpus: 6522
Over the course of the morning’s early hours, Redmane made his way around the north side of Barograd’s walls, dispatching and devouring beastmen two to four at a time. He drew nearer and nearer to a large pair of watchtowers, which sat on either side of the Bear River. The wall between them featured a stone archway tall and wide enough to admit riverboats through.
Those towers were heavily fortified. Even from a distance Redmane spied ballistae mounted on the wall between them to deter the vessels of raiders. Redmane imagined there would be other nasty surprises in store. Soon he would discover what they were. He had no Gnosis, but he had weapons, and Corpus aplenty.
For the moment.
The first surprise came when he reached one of those riverside watchtowers. Redmane expected guards, which there were. But he didn’t expect a huge, pale insect to come crawling out from a hatch in the tower’s roof.
At least that’s what it looked like at first glance. The longer he looked, the less he liked what he saw.
It was indeed pale. And it resembled an insect in its construction. But its limbs were human, or at least they had once belonged to human bodies, spindly arms and legs with dead white flesh, sewn together like a macabre doll. Redmane could see the stitch lines where blackened thread pierced into that pasty skin, which was an angry red color around the stretched punctures.
The thing walked on an uncountable number of hands, with four more arms held aloft. Four arms, which belonged to a pair of human torsos stacked on top of each other and fused together at the spine. Each arm bore a weapon in place of a hand; a gently curved sickle, a long spike of rusty iron, the three pronged head of a trident, and a two headed axe.
It had many faces, sewn together on a bulbous head mounted to the top of its uppermost torso. Many faces but no eyes. And each one of its faces was stretched into a grotesque expression of one kind or another, a smile, a frown, an animal snarl.
Stitchwork Spider
Monster Type: Undead (Horror)
Level 35
Despite its lack of eyes, its senses must have been especially keen. Because it spotted Redmane the moment it emerged. The thing whipped around, looking right at him, and let out a shriek to alert all the nearby guards manning the tower, who were armed with blades and crossbows.
Redmane grimaced and readied his axe.
[Horror] Marked as Prey