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Arguen Garth
Hardir O’ Fardor
Lord of Morn Taras
Monarch of Wetull
King beyond the Pale Mountains
Aniculo Rokae
Duath Erin I Menel
The Wine Wars | Coup de main*
Part II
-Unfortunately-
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image [https://i.postimg.cc/fWL3sNb8/Mussel-195-NC.jpg]-
> 8th of Enna (Primus) 3401 IC
>
> Old Imperial port of Mussel
> “Allgods damnit!” Erminio Sardone cursed jumping out of his quarters on one foot, cursing again twice as mad for landing into a pool of muddy water whilst trying to get his other boot on. “What is this ungodly ruckus?” He barked at his adjutant Mark Keitel who rushed near him.
>
> The bells ringing on the ships moored in the port and the north side gates watch responding with rousing trumpets to get the resting company up from their cots. Several local civilians also getting out of their houses –those the Owls hadn’t commandeered to use as their own quarters- and they weren’t that many to begin with.
>
> “Captain Laguna’s spotters at the crow’s nest got spooked and raised the alarm sir for some thing or other,” Keitel informed him and gave Sardone a hand to help him get his boot on. Muddy foot squelching in but there was nothing to be done about it, Sardone thought sourly. “Got everyone up. Your son went to speak with Captain Ked.”
>
> “What was it? This or the other?” Sardone grunted squinting his eyes to see better up and down the road leading to the docks. The weather cloudy but it had stopped raining at least sometime during the night. That’s enough water for today, he thought. The humidity had started bothering him, especially in the joints. Knees and elbows.
>
> “Eh… I don’t know. Didn’t see anything myself,” Keitel replied and followed after Sardone as the latter started heading towards the docks. The nearest ship, a brig named the Sundew, clearly visible about a hundred meters away. “Everyone is jumpy as fuck with them accursed Ticu singing all night. Two men went to take a leak by themselves and never came back. That’s seven missing in three days. I told everyone wanting to go out, he needs to find a partner to hold his god darn dick sir!”
>
> “Is that Scaevola’s man?” Sardone cut him off and pointed at the commotion near the brig. “The fuck is going on?”
>
> The engineer got an earful from the Captain of the Sundew, who kept pointing at the larger Barque, the Decibel was anchored further inside the port as all other bigger ships with the transports moored at the docks. The Barque had unfurled her sails as if she was about to depart.
>
> At least that was what Sardone got out as he hurried to reach them. Not ideal to sprint out of your bed first thing and keep running about without knowing why, he thought breathing heavy and rubbing at his swollen irritated eyes. The salty wind that blew from the port not helping at all.
>
> Mark Keitel went ahead to talk with the animated engineer when Erminio paused to catch his breath. The Commandant of the Owls kept his attention on their conversation giving periodic glances to their surroundings as the eerie clamor hadn’t settled down at all.
>
> “Keep the mounted Scorpios?” Keitel queried. “Didn’t D’Orsi order to strip down the ships and send everything after the main army?”
>
> “Aye, he did but Captain Fark got notified by Captain Laguna and ordered the fleet to move out of port.”
>
> “Fark cancelled the order?”
>
> “Yes lieutenant he did. Simon Mclean intervened,” the engineer replied a little miffed at getting grilled for something that wasn’t his fault.
>
> “Why?”
>
> “The boys saw a thing of sorts moving above the clouds. Got a bit nervy obviously. Won’t read much into it, given all the craziness around this fucking place. Aye. Disturbing shit,” the engineer replied with a shrug and looked at Sardone. “You might need to give the boys a bonus sir. Coin more often raises one’s spirits than not.”
>
> “Ugh? Forget about yer pay now! What thing? You left it vague?” Keitel cut him off.
>
> “You wanted a drawing sir?”
>
> “You plaguing smartarse. Just run up that ramp and tell Laguna to fall in line darn it!” Keitel barked turning red in the face. Sardone raised his eyes on the clouded sky again and examined its vastness with a grimace of worry.
>
> “Lieutenant,” Sardone grunted narrowing his hurting eyes as they were caught by sunrays finding a gap in the white canopy. The strong breeze moving the clouds and creating more openings as time ticked away slowly. An ominous feeling creeping up the Commandant’s spine. He forgot about his discomforted joints.
>
> “Sir?” Keitel queried turning around just as something casted a large moving shadow on the thinning clouds passing between the sun and the sky’s ceiling.
>
> Dan Ding. Dan Ding.
>
> Ding-Ding-Ding.
>
> The bells went.
>
> The strong light flickering and a black stain blocking part of the glowing disk that had emerged over their heads. Ever growing.
>
> A smaller fiercely glowing ball descending upon the port.
>
> Like a falling star, what the academics called… a meteorite, whatever the all-fucks that meant.
>
> A burning ball.
>
> Also ever-growing.
>
> Like the stain that now had doubled its size and had grown a pair of large wings on its sides. Its shape incomprehensible for common folk or those of Lesia’s citizens that haven’t spent a minute inside a library. Sardone had the funds to have a small library inside his villa, then had studied two years in Armium’s academy that had a bigger one and there were at least three paintings on its walls depicting a wyvern in the sky that he’d gazed upon with fondness in his youth.
>
> That thing was a wyvern.
>
> Nothing pleasant about it.
>
> “FIND COVER!” Sardone bellowed tipping his head back to release a mighty roar, yell half-covered by the crackling sound of the screaming fireball zipping past their heads and exploding next to the Sundew. The boiling waters rising twenty meters high and ten wide and creating a huge wave that pushed the creaking brig away from the docks while bunching up closer two of the unloading transports.
>
> WHOOSH.
>
> KA-BOOM.
>
> Erminio twirled around pushed by the shockwave, dropped on a knee tearing his pants and tumbled uncontrollably before landing on the ground soaked in brines.
>
> WHOOSH.
>
> WHOOSH.
>
> The sound of more incoming fireballs following, as the stunned Commandant desperately tried to recover his balance amidst the sudden and merciless shelling. Sardone’s ogling eyes following the fireballs erratic trajectory impotently after they left the diving wyvern. Mostly aimed at the ships but at least one flying past them and striking one of the docks warehouses. The ensuing massive colorful explosion, liquefied several nearby civilians and soldiers watching the scary spectacle frozen like statues. It also sent a ton of burning debris, bricks, pieces of cement, stone and cracked beams to bombard the headquarters –where Sardone had slept- along another nearby warehouse. The latter lost a wall that collapsed and instantly caught fire.
>
> In less than five minutes since Erminio Sardone had so violently woken up everything had changed and the Owls Company commandant, his men and the Barons Fleet had found themselves transported into one of Oras’ Hells.
-
These are not our guys? Uvrycres asked pretending to care.
“Just fly lower so I can have a good look at them! Fucking dropped the blasted spyglass wit yer senseless maneuvering!” Glen growled looking at the fast moving terrain under them. “AND GO SLOWER!”
I need to burn magic nectar to do that. Mystic juice. Energy? Else we’ll drop like a boulder in the middle of the road. Hah-ha! We also use speed and air resistance to fly on the cheap you dumbbell!
“Ah?” Glen grunted in total confusion. “Did you just make that up? Fuck off!” He slipped a little on the saddle but grabbed a strategically-placed lever to stabilize himself. “He-he! There ye go! Blasted progress right fucking there! Now we’re talking!”
Progress? It’s an ancient saddle Glen. I believe it can still be shed with a bit of try—
“DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT! You tried it twice already and nobody finds it funny but you!” Glen screamed irate. “Head for Mussel! We’ll start there. Get a firm grasp of what we’re dealing with!”
You don’t have to, Uvrycres said looking down and then back using his long neck. He watched the columns of mercenaries moving towards Taras with a nasty smirk. Glen punched a meaty bug into a pulp in the meantime and slapped a squealing bird dead in a devastating combo. The bird covered in blue-yellow plumage bouncing off of the wyvern’s scaled nape and then over the ducking Glen’s head.
“Fucking hells! I got plaguing bug juices and bird brains all over my face!” Glen roared afore stopping abruptly to stare at the wyvern’s smirking snout. Uvrycres loved flying whilst looking at Glen. You do that shit on the road you’ll crack yer head open and people might die.
People shall die either way. Theirs is a stupid plan.
“Explain.” He ordered the wyvern.
Just keep them here long enough, Uvrycres replied. They’ll grow weaker as you get stronger with time. I safely predict that eventually we’ll kill them all and eat them.
“We’re not eating people for fuck’s sake!” A disgusted Glen blasted him irate.
Fine, have your weakling diet. More for me I reckon! The wyvern roared and rotated once fully, the up turning down and the down becoming the yelping Glen’s ceiling.
Son of a doe-eyed cow!
Argh! Glen blinked shook, his ears popping in quick succession. A gloved hand wiping the mess off of his stained mask, the other straining to keep him attached to the wyvern.
“Just tell me yer bloody thought,” he finally rustled through gritted teeth. Uvrycres chuckled and then shot up towards the clouded sky afore he did.
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There was no way Glen could tell which ship was theirs or neutral from that distance. Mussel appearing like a scaled fake model of itself with tiny buildings, the ruined portion visible to the east and the clearly defined port filled with vessels.
“We might hit one of ours! Or a neutral!” He bellowed, cheeks ballooning and pressed against the mask that made it difficult for him to breathe. Glen could feel tear rivulets trickling backwards from his ogling eyes.
Our friends are gone Glen. Uvrycres noted with fake sadness. Butchered, flesh stripped from their bones, probably eaten already. It’s too late but we can get our revenge!
“What? The hells are you blubbing about ye cretin? Just aim for the warships!”
Hey, don’t be a freeloader smarty mouth! Point them the fuck out! STOP BEING SO FUCKING CHILDISH! Uvrycres snapped and dived with his neck extended, a determined scowl on his beastly face. The wind blasting Glen so hard he felt himself slowly ungluing from the saddle despite using his legs and stirrups to keep steady. He needed one arm to point and Glen wasn’t certain he could spare it.
“The warships! Hit the warships!”
Hit? How about kicking them? WHAT AM I? A BLASTED HORSE? I’m about to launch a motherfucking fireball! Uvrycres growled turning to glare at his rider and then used his long wings to abruptly break momentum for a brief second to aim.
Luthos pissed his pants whilst doing the tumble, sprayed urine all over his face and mouth!
“THERE!” Glen yelled hoarsely, order half-lost as he was hurled forward on the scaly neck. He felt the hairs on his arms tingling, the air drying up all around them and a burning sensation on both his legs.
What in the slovenly fuck? Glen cursed as he was tossed backwards again since Uvrycres had continued his mad dive behind the glowing fireball. The smoke and heatwave blinding the thrashing this way and that Monarch.
Bumpiest ride ever! He groaned inwardly.
“What… the all-hells… are ye plaguin’ doin’?” A strangled Glen managed to get out, almost dislocating his shoulder and then noticed his pants were smoking.
I aimed for the warship! Uvrycres roared enthusiastically and then glanced back at the flaying Glen. Better gather yer legs when I hurl them balls.
Eh?
“How am I supposed to stay on the…?” Glen wondered angrily watching said fireball striking the water with a huge explosion of steam and frothing brines. “Did ye just miss? Are you plaguing serious?”
Fucking ruffian moved. We were too far! Uvrycres cursed irate and halted mid-air to launch a volley of fireballs out of pure spite. One after the other. Heavy static erupted over the wyvern’s scaly back, run through the yelling maniacally Glen and puffs of ignited air smacked the Monarch in the chest and mask.
His pants were on fire.
Shite.
THOOMP
THOOMP
Uvrycres had gotten the hang of it and was firing one spell after the other en route. Or whilst diving. The top part of his horned head and upper scales smoking while turning smoldering hot.
The buildings and the docks getting bigger and more detailed as they lost altitude fast. Scenes of utter chaos and destruction unfolding inside the port, the docks facilities and everywhere Glen turned to look. Huge smoke clouds rising to meet their mad descent, flames leaping out of buildings and ships. One warship exploding and coming apart when it was hit dead center, another losing a third of its hull and rolling over.
HOLD ON TIGHT!
The Wyvern warned as he banged hard left to make another pass over the burning chaos.
“Wait… what? AARGH!” A scared Glen yelped. He was thrusted sideways holding on for dear life, the wyvern angling, angry waters and smoke blasting him in the face just before they encountered the first debris from the continuous explosions ravaging the port.
Parts of ships. Pieces of burning sails, ropes and tools. Broken timber and planks. Splinters, nails and body parts. Half a screaming and burning sailor looping over them, still spraying gore from his disemboweled body. Everything under the hapless man’s sternum missing.
The shrieking Uvrycres got out of the clouds after its tight turn, a large warship with open sails racing towards them. Glen could see it clearly as they now flew at twenty meters above water and the wyvern had stabilized its flight path.
The distance not even a hundred meters away and closing. Scores of sailors rushing and frantically pointing at the smoking wyvern flying low towards them.
“BREAK AWAY!” A worried Glen yelled spotting two war machines mounted at the bow aimed at them. “Lift up you idiot!” He cursed clenching his jaw tightly and felt the wyvern’s neck expanding outwards. The black scales separating and a fierce red glowing appearing at the fissures. “FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” Glen roared as Uvrycres unleashed a torrent of fire from his open jaws two meters wide and expanding as it lurched forward.
The tang of the Scorpios firing almost lost just before the firestorm rained across the ship’s decks sweeping men, masts and materiel away.
SHIT!
Uvrycres growled a moment later as they blasted out of the thick smoke leaving the burning ship behind them. The wyvern lost ten meters of elevation and touched the waves underneath them. Water splashed at Glen’s legs and thighs before Uvrycres started rising again but a bit staggered. His flight pattern that of a drunk bird.
“Fuck is wrong wit you?” A worn out Glen snapped looking back to see if the ship would survive. It was burning like a summer festival’s bonfire so it seemed unlikely.
Something teared at my left wing, Uvrycres explained and groaned irate. THERE’S A BLOODY HOLE GLEN!
The Monarch sighed. “Bolts can do that to you pal. Can you still fly?”
Hmm.
“Is that a yes? It’s a serious query mate.”
Why? I’m a little shook right now.
“There’s a fucking huge ship leaving the port,” Glen explained. He glanced at the flames covering the docks and moored transports behind them. “Can you get it?”
-
Five minutes later
The north entrance to the Two Straits
“I CAN’T SEE SHITE!” A chilled Glen griped. He was soaked to the bone due the heavy humidity of the waterlogged clouds and the thick mist surrounding the isles Ilithar and Lyari.
I spotted their sails! Uvrycres informed him. The wyvern was flying erratically with a portion of his leathery left wing torn badly and flapping in the wind. They are heading inside the canal!
“Hah!” Glen guffawed nervously. “We got them now buddy! A blind man can’t miss that!”
What blind man?
“IT’S A FUCKING EXPRESSION!” Glen bellowed now grinning fiercely and the Wyvern dived low following his words. “What are ye doing?”
Attacking them?
Glen ogled his eyes, stooping perilously to the left of the wyvern’s scaly neck to gaze at the large warship. Too large and with a familiar shape of sorts. What in the most slovenly of all fucks?
“Are they slowing down?”
Good for us!
Hmm. Where the allhells are ye going? He asked the ship’s captain tensing up again. Glen clenched his jaw so hard in fact, eyes almost popped out of their sockets from the tension in the act and he felt some of the back molars shift about.
His ears popping from the increase in speed adding to his turmoil.
“Wait…!” He grunted seeing the details of the packed with crew warship clearer as the wyvern leveled out coming out of the clouds right behind it and now into the narrow straits. You cunning motherfuckers! Ruffians of the deep! “Pull out… got damn it, pull away! IT’S A FUCKING TRAP!”
Didn’t you say a blind man—?
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“THEY KNOW IT TOO! FUCK!” Glen growled and Uvrycres started rising again abruptly, Glen’s ears buzzing again and the sound of the massive Galleass’ bells ringing ominously in the misty straits between the two small isles coming and going. Its design now clear and almost identical with Rybel’s proposal, the Zilan Master of Ships a Naval engineer himself that had brain-washed Glen about their firepower for months. “They have towers bow and aft!”
The wyvern turned right hard as they were heading straight for the basalt slopes, losing altitude afore gaining it back and several incoming bolts whooshed under them. Uvrycres barely cleared the west vertical slants of the straits, killing a family of four panicked seagulls that tried to get out of their way.
“How did they know about the canal?” Glen grunted irate as they circled at an ever increasing distance from the entrance.
Surprise them on the other side?
“They’ll just train everything they have forward. They only have to hit us once even if they lose the fight,” Glen hissed in frustration. “We need to find another way. Can you fire from a distance? Wait… why in Luthos’ shit-covered balls did you dive so low?”
Run out of juice, Uvrycres admitted. Yeah. Need to replenish a bit.
“Now you plaguing mention this fucking vital detail?” Glen roared irate. “Argh! And so… your answer to that was to jump on them?”
I don’t hear any bright ideas coming from you! The wyvern blasted him and turned its head around for a warning glare. NO IDEAS AT ALL BUT PLENTY O’ CRITISISM!
“Abort this shit. We are going back to Mussel.” Glen decided after releasing the deepest of sighs.
They’ll escape!
“Not heading that way. Fuck them for now,” Glen cursed. “Let’s make sure we got the other ships.”
-
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The heavy mist had cleared at Mussel as the morning had progressed but the burning fires from several buildings and wrecked ships inside the port itself had created huge black smoke clouds that made visibility almost impossible from afar.
“How does Lesia have our secret design?” Glen queried still miffed they had almost fallen into the Galleass’ trap earlier. “Rybel couldn’t have stolen it. So they must have someone spying on us? What the all-hells?”
It’s probably an ancient design. Rybel didn’t invent the wheel for you. The pirates have an almost identical ship?
Ah. Yeah. Well… that’s…
“Still I was told it was an Imperial design! Now we need to pour more coin in these blasted things to work on improving—”
The fucking Barque is still afloat. Uvrycres informed the frustrated Monarch cutting into his tirade. There’s a sneaky brig helping it douse the fires.
A scowling Glen eyed the two ships that stood about four hundred meters away from the burning docks and smoking half-sunk transports. The Barque’s upper decks were almost destroyed and still smoldering. Both masts missing.
“They can’t save it.” He decided with a groan of pain. “Head for the shore.”
I want them gone Glen. Uvrycres snapped angrily and started diving again abruptly.
“FUCK’S SAKE!” Glen roared in panic. He almost got hurled backwards and into the void as he’d taken that brief respite to let go of the long reins in order to stretch his arms out and offer relief to his hurting spine. He took the strain right to his thighs that clenched on the saddle. “STOP YE CRETIN!”
I’m going to sweep ‘em clean! Uvrycres snarled and trumpeted an ear-splitting shriek as he plunged for the two alarmed warships. No quarters!
“WHAT… MANNER…. OF BULLSHIT….!” A seriously worried Glen yelped, eyes gawking to spot any eager idiot with a big-ole bolt-thrower looking their way. He saw none trained on them but plenty armed marines and sailors had been alerted to their reappearance, especially on the unharmed brig.
Ding-Ding-Ding.
The bells of the ships went mixing with the fast descending angry wyvern’s war shriek.
RRRRRREEEE!
And Glen’s… screams.
“AAARRGGH! SHIIITE!”
Uvrycres did open his wings at the last moment to cut the momentum abruptly, just before they landed on the Barque’s quarterdeck. It was a poor attempt and an even worse landing. The wyvern crashed through the last floor of the aftcastle, wood splintering and exploding away whilst pulverizing two sailors manning the ship’s rudder.
A yapping Glen only saw some of that as he’d leaped off of the saddle at the last moment, his somersault catapulting him over one of the collapsed masts and its burning crumpled sails. He landed on the smoking deck, stopping in a large barrel that came apart and doused him with dirty water. Heart lodged in his throat and half-blind from the sudden adrenaline surge.
All those near-death earlier crash-landings coming handy for this part of the ordeal.
It was also auspicious everyone and their mother were looking at the thrashing large wyvern. Armed men yelling and cursing, sailors running away or jumping in the sea panicked and the brig’s captain directing a group of crossbow carrying marines about eight meters away to fire on the now attacking everything within reach Uvrycres.
“There! Aim and loose! Go for the beast’s eyes!” The naval officer ordered his men while Glen unsheathed Emerson’s blade and Flix’s steel peleg one after the other. The Jackal’s cackle ringing up and down the damaged Barque’s messy deck.
God dammit Uvry, Glen thought and a sailor came at him with an axe jumping over a burning piece of broken timber. Glen moved out of the way with a grimace and hacked at the man’s back when he blew past him. A severed arm bounced off of the soaked floorboards as Glen moved to help out the wyvern that had now crawled down from the destroyed quarterdeck on all fours to attack those brave enough to approach it.
Actually, it was an arm torn out of its joint.
Eh.
A fancy-dressed officer rushed him from the sides in the pandemonium but Glen caught his approach and turned at the last minute to block the man’s blade. The Lorian cursed, jerked back to avoid getting cleaved in the face and another marine came to his assistance from Glen’s other side holding a proper cleaver.
Son of an arse-fucked bitch! Glen cursed recoiling away whilst flicking the blade to hack away the officer’s nose and left eye. The marine stepped forward determined, a mean-looking dude but Glen kicked his shin with Angrein’s boot and sent it back messing the man’s advance. The Lorian stooped forward from the momentum and Glen lowered his helmed head to nail him right between the eyes.
A Troy special.
Welp, fancy move but pretty idiotic!
You beefed up imbecile!
Glen had split the skin on his own forehead close to where he’d stitched it a year back and howled like a crazy person while the Lorian was thrust backwards with a pulverized bloody nose. Glen parried the wounded officer’s returning blade aside irate and slashed him again across the face doing a lot of damage. The officer went down with a groan of pain and the Brig’s officer/captain finally spotted Glen as the latter stepped over his deathly injured compatriot.
“IT’S HIM!” He bellowed at his men pointing an accusing finger at the scowling and snarling behind the blood-covered mask Glen. While they were standing on the brig’s port side, the two ships were anchored very close together and the distance was less than five meters. “THE DRAGONRIDER! SHOOT HIM FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!”
What? Glen thought irate as several of the crossbows turned to be aimed his way. He danced one way then the other to find cover and mess with the shooters aim, the Brig’s captain raising a ruckus of epic proportions to direct his men on getting him.
Several of the Lorians now involved in the little drama.
Little considering there was a huge wyvern wrecking the Barque’s crew no more than ten meters away from the energetically dodging about Glen.
Once again the former thief had landed in familiar but not pleasant territory.
“RELOAD!”
“MOTHERFUCKER MOVED SIR!”
“FIRE AGAIN! NAIL THAT SUCKER!”
“PIECE OF SLIPPERY SHIT!”
“HOW FAST IS THAT FOOL?”
“HEY!” That was a miffed Glen that slid to a stop with bolts whistling all over the place, then twirled around changing direction. “Shoot at the wyvern you stupid fucks!”
“No! Shoot him!” The captain grunted with a snarl. “DO IT!”
Argh! Glen groaned inwardly and realizing he was wasting valuable energy, turned again to rush the distance and attack them instead. His intention to leap over the gap between the ships and turn this into a close combat situation. Now had he been in a calmer state of mind or not so blinded by adrenalin Glen would have probably not even considered it.
At that point in time this buffoonery seemed to be the best course of action.
A matter of pride also played some part as he hadn’t been assaulted for a long time directly and felt deeply offended. Which was probably the stupidest of all reasons in retrospect.
Glen made three quick strides afore realizing that going head on at the aiming crossbowmen was making their job easier and jerked left spastically just as their next volley came. Five of them had actually aimed their weapons at Wetull’s Monarch. Four missed spectacularly, probably rattled by the wyvern’s mayhem occurring nearby and Glen’s exotic armour and sinister mask. The fifth scored a perfect hit at the right side of Glen’s custom helm, the bolt clanking hard, penetrating the steel partially but causing no damage other than almost breaking the Monarch’s neck.
“HAH!” The captain yelled thinking Glen was down when the latter stumbled back stunned at the near catastrophe and with his brains rattled.
Glen shook his now sporting a protruding bolt helmet, his blurred vision clearing slowly and glared at Lesia’s marines behind his angry-grimacing mask. All but a shocked marine reloading fast their crossbows. Glen raised his sword and pointed at them, sneakily hurling the peleg he had in his other arm towards the snarling captain.
The next moment Glen burst forward after the twirling axe-type weapon. He reached at the deck rails and put a boot on them to launch himself over the gap, the peleg missing the ducking captain but smacking a marine standing next to him on the head with the shaft. The man went down losing his conned helm and messing up with his flaying arms one of his nearby friends’ aim that fired a wild shot over the leaping Glen’s head.
Glen cleared the small two meter gap between the two ships and rolled once on the soaked deck afore stopping briefly. The next moment he charged the captain with a savage slash trying to shove him in front of the now turning crossbows. The captain blocked the slash and retaliated with one of his own but Glen switched the grip on his sword to meet the attack halfway through. The blades clanged loudly and the captain’s shattered in four thin pieces, one hitting Glen’s chest armour and bouncing off, the other going the other way and skewering the captain’s neck under the chin.
Blood spurted out as Glen moved forward through the red mist, grabbing the gurgling officer’s shoulder to shove him aside. The captain went crashing down and Glen’s blade lashed out from up close hacking an arm and part of a crossbow away. He kicked the next recoiling marine between the legs next, got nailed with another bolt from point blank range under the left breast and violently stumbled back two steps with a pained grunt. The tip of the stuck bolt grazing the skin there. It had gone through the hoplite armour again but lost most of its momentum on the leather gambeson Glen wore underneath.
“SHOOT HIM AGAIN!” Another officer growled rushing towards them from another part of the ship. “USE THE OLD ISSUED TIPS!”
What the fuck? Glen thought stunned and whipped out with the sword cutting down another marine. The last one retreating next to the advancing officer. A marine sergeant based on his insignia.
“We kill this alien freak Larry,” the sergeant growled to his reloading friend. “And this whole nightmare is over. We’ll end this expedition in a day!”
Glen cursed and parried the lunging sergeant’s harpoon away from his face, the long weapon’s blade clanging on the undamaged side of his helm when it retreated. The Lorian tried again but Glen sidestepped this time and opened a ghastly wound on the man’s chest ruining his armour and lungs.
Larry’s incoming bolt almost killed Glen but for the latter’s instincts.
It had whistled partially hidden past the collapsing sergeant’s right ear and a hissing Glen had to twirl away, the bolt glancing the left side of his plate armour, almost finding the seams and snapping one of the clasps. The staggered Glen lost his footing as he was standing too close to the deck rails of the now moving brig. The last two things he saw afore going over and into the frothy waters were the riddled with bolts Uvrycres leaping over from one ship to another not to let the unanchored brig get away and a Ticu perched on Larry’s shoulders cracking the top of his skull open with its sharp claws.
Then scooping handfuls of the screaming Lorian’s bloody brains and shoving them into its wide open gnarly mouth.
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Biggest motherfucking pair of green-skinned tits I’ve ever seen this close afore! A coughing up foul sea water Glen thought trying to follow the moving flesh that danced before his face. Damn!
“Get it all out,” the mature female voice breathed near his ear in what appeared to be an ambiguous only thinly veiled vulgar suggestion that is until Glen noticed there were weird fish-type scales on her arms up to the elbows, strange small frothing openings under her long neck. The woman’s long hair was black as coal and straight. Eyes very large and round without any pupils.
SHITE!
“GAAH!” Glen groaned still half-drown with mouthfuls of seawater and coughing it out as he twisted about to get away from the naked Ticu that was laying on top of him. He shoved her away and rolled on the gravel-covered terrain of the beach… the beach what the fuck? He thought trying to get his bearings and find his blade. Any weapon! Glen found the dagger still in its sheath and got it out nervously, one tearing eye still blurry and his armour heavy with dripping water.
He tried to stand up but he’d burned a ton of energy trying to survive Uvrycres’ rage for getting injured and his legs wouldn’t support him fully. Glen dropped to a knee, crawled on it and then stood up slowly still shaking to glare at the silently watching his struggles female Ticu.
She clicked her tongue, sharp teeth clacking in a secret signal and Glen realized that about a dozen more were standing around them looking his way with soulless fish eyes.
“Easy now lasses. Ye need to think dis shit long ‘n hard,” Glen warned them breathing heavy and unable to spit the brines out of his mouth due to the mask returning most of the material back.
“You need to stop the wyvern,” the first Ticu said in Imperial. “Hardir O’ Fardor.”
The wyvern, Glen thought calculating his chances with the dagger against their lot.
Then his eyes wandered beyond the remote beach inside the gulf and about two hundred meters away he spotted the still sailing Brig approaching. The ship was under assault by the wyvern, but no humans were on it. Instead Uvrycres was defending the ship seemingly from a horde of swimming and leaping on its deck Ticu. Some the wyvern formerly called Biscuit hurled back into the sea with his claws, others Uvrycres hunted with his stinger using it like a harpoon to nail them whilst they were still swimming in the water.
Like trout.
Ugh. Good grief! It went clean through!
Ah.
Hmm.
Right then.
Glen had nothing to offer.
“The wyvern is too far away,” he finally reasoned. “Tell your… friends to stop attacking him? Maybe that’ll work.”
“They have to feed Hardir. The wyvern doesn’t let them because he is undisciplined. He can’t have every corpse since some belong to us. You keep what you kill and the sea keeps its share. Ask your wyvern to step away.” The Ticu insisted in her austere motherly tone. Now that Glen could see better some of the lines on her face, she reminded him of another.
An uneasy Glen pursed his mouth and then reached to remove the mask from his face after sheathing his dagger. He secured it on a hook at the left side of his weapon harness. “I know another Ticu named Assara,” he started and the older Matriarch gasped human-like, the skin shifting over the bones on her face and long inhuman limbs changing visibly to that of a mature but shapely woman. Um. “Called her mother Nerisea and Mussel her home.”
“My little one lives? I feared the worst after what happened to her sister,” Nerisea asked raspingly.
“She does. Befriended my daughter,” Glen replied and breathed out, now feeling the tension seeping out of him in waves. Living him feeling worn out from all the ridiculous earlier exertions and hurting from bruised muscles, battered bones and small cuts. He’d that bolt still stuck firmly on his helm and a tiny smarting hole as memento at his temple. “What happened to her sister?”
“Humans killed her at Lyari,” she replied and Glen narrowed his eyes not aware that humans lived there. He thought of that Galleass’ captain that had the presence of mind to retreat towards the straits and wait for them there in ambush. Hmm.
“Will you call on your wyvern?” Nerisea insisted.
“He won’t hear me from so far away,” Glen explained. The ship (a brig) kept coming towards the shores out of control but it was still way out inside the port. The beach Nerisea had dragged his half-drowned body located near the abandoned east outskirts of Mussel.
“He will. I’ll help,” Nerisea assured him and Glen put her boast to the test immediately afore Uvrycres killed anymore of the Ticu circling the ship.
“Uvrycres!” He bellowed and his voice came out significantly more vibrant, crackling at the skies like a thunder and shaking the pebble-covered beach. Glen lowered his eyes and saw Nerisea had covered the distance between them the moment he had looked away and the Ticu Matriarch’s right hand was now grasping his left forearm.
RRRRRRE
The confused wyvern responded from the side of the ship turning about this way and that.
RRREE?
Glen raised his right arm that now held the Wyvern’s Tongue and gestured for Nerisea to calm down. “It’s a witch’s dagger,” he assured the older Ticu. “Give me another boost… or whatever the all mighty sloppy fucks ye did just now.” He grinned fiercely at the end of that, showing great a many white teeth –and a gold one- to which Nerisea blinked with those huge black eyes.
“The all mighty sloppy fucks?” The Matriarch repeated unsure and Glen nodded now all serious.
“Ayup. Here it goes,” he replied and roared once more with that ‘magically boosted’ new voice of his. “Uvry you dumb blind fuck! I’m right here! LOOK! GODS DARNIT!”
Glen? The wyvern retorted and Glen saw him turning towards them from more than a hundred and fifty meters away. You live? What are ye doing over there?
“Thought of catching a tan under them thick smoke clouds,” a peeved Glen retorted mockingly. “Stop killing the bloody Ticu and get yer arse here for pity’s sake!” He cast a sideways stare at the bewildered Nerisea watching their exchange. “Partially injure. It looks worse than it really is aye,” he added soothingly wearing a diplomat’s expression and lying with a seasoned politician’s ease. “Most of the dead ones -them Lesia cunts had unfortunately already killed.”
Uvrycres reached them a moment later managing a stupendously long over-a-hundred meters leap with the help of his now extended wings and landed ten meters away scattering the gathered Ticu. The shrieking wyvern tried to murder a couple of them pouncing with his tail stinger or lashing out with his claws but mercifully he failed else Glen would have been nigh inconvenienced to explain that to their Matriarch.
Darn fertile in them meaty loins she must be if that’s more than a ceremonial moniker!
She’s a darn Ticu mate, the wyvern warned turning its glowing rubicund eyes on the tensed Nerisea that still clasped at Glen’s forearm tightly.
Glen could feel her long fingers testing the steel vambrace’s endurance.
“She got me out of the water. Let’s call it half-a-save,” a discomforted Glen explained and the wyvern snorted coming closer with its awkward movement that utilized all four of his extremities (the winged bat-like forearms included.)
I can see how she would float with ease under all conditions! The wyvern retorted meaningfully.
Glen rolled his eyes to the white at the semi-lewd immature jest but did pause to give another good look at Nerisea’s bare heavy bosom under the Ticu Matriarch’s amused gaze.
Hah! Thus I’m speedily vindicated! Uvrycres announced triumphantly with a loud protracted shriek that rattled the slowly re-gathering around them in a bigger circle mermaids.
“The Ticu are historically known to seduce their prey,” Glen informed the smirking wyvern that sported at least seven bolts in various places of its body. None lethal or close to.
“This Ticu never even thought of it Hardir,” Nerisea responded to set the record straight. “Given the timing and all that was at stake.”
Which wasn’t what Glen wanted though.
Glen nodded as if thinking about her words. “I don’t believe you,” he finally stated in a pleasant but firm manner. “But I’ll see to keep it between us if you will.”
With that he strolled away from the left speechless Matriarch, paused briefly to retrieve Emerson’s blade from a young Ticu’s arms, gave the Ticu a soft pat on the top of the head as the cheapest of thank-you’s and then deftly caught the steel peleg an older one tossed him by its shaft.
“Thank you naked brother… sister,” Glen said to the intently staring, also unclothed Ticu, and then realized every one of them was actually female. Not a single phallus in sight. Well then that’s interesting. He thought of making a comment about that but decided against it.
“Mussel is our nest and our ancestral lands Hardir O’ Fardor,” Nerisea told the climbing up the wyvern’s saddle Glen. The Monarch brought the now sculpted in a sober expression mask at his similarly sober face and secured it on his helm with the metallic clasps. “When those invaders leave we shall want back what was violently taken from our kinfolk.”
Blah. Blah. Blah.
“They rape and violently take. I’m here to deliver a crippling blow to their plans,” Glen replied harshly and showed her the burning wrecks inside the port to their west. “Garth joins in friendly partnership as the bigger partner that allows others to continue on with their lives… if they stay out of my business and avoid hurting what is mine.”
“What’s yours then?” Nerisea asked the thoughtfully staring at the smokes coming from Mussel Monarch.
You won’t manacle my desires woman… Ticu.
Whatever.
“Um.” A scowling Glen murmured instead and ordered Uvrycres to fly them over the city, without fully answering the waiting Ticu Matriarch’s query. The last thing Nerisea heard from him that day was the now flying over their heads Monarch yelling at the top of his lungs in righteous indignation.
“How can you lose the plaguing biscuits? Come clean! Did you eat the supplies bag?”
-
> Primo D’Orsi ordered Nico Vardar to hold the road and retreated towards Mussel to help out Sardone’s Owls that had stayed back with our fleet. They marched through the night and come dawn they saw the smoke rising over the ancient port. D’Orsi ordered everyone to find cover in the nearby woods and sent a rider to learn what had occurred in Mussel.
>
> While this was happening Nico Vardar’s Band of Silver made contact with a larger force of Taras’ city guards and fought a messy scrap, the second battle on the road to Goras capital as we then believed. Goras had only the one city according to the native Zilan made out of several town-sized districts that incorporated Taras, Tenebrous Castle, Favored Heights, the Temples and three ports. Sinya Goras, Hardir’s Port and apparently Mussel. Its monstrous size that of Scaldingport’s peninsula plus Castalor’s lands combined. If it had been similarly populated it could have housed easily more than half a million souls. The complicated mess bizarre to Jelin natives but perfectly normal for the Zilan and humans living there.
>
> Vardar’s mercenaries won the bloody struggle in a mighty impressive feat but got mauled hard and suffered heavy-casualties (about three hundred, with almost two hundred killed). The battered as well Captain Fane had to retreat losing over two hundred soldiers himself. Of all the engagements at the narrow front only the east flank of the mercenaries came under serious threat that day with the Taras’ soldiers there almost breaking through before the night came. A single warrior fighting for the Goras natives credited with thirty seven kills by himself. An impossible to fathom number that rounded up to forty for some but never dropped lower than thirty by all accounts. The former gladiator’s name, a freed slave in the arena, was the now famous Troy and hailed from Novesium.
>
> Vardar contemplated pressuring the retreating Captain Fane but decided to wait the night out and messaged D’Orsi about the happenings asking for instructions.
>
> D’Orsi had learned of the fleet’s fate early the next morning from Sardone’s adjutant Keitel, as the commandant had been severely injured and burned beyond recognition to an inch of life. His son killed during the firestorm. Apparently within a mere ten minutes the Monarch’s wyvern had descended from the misty skies destroyed all moored transports at the docks, sunk three of the four brigs and ruined beyond salvaging the Barque Decibel and the Sundew. Killing ninety percent of the crew with the rest eaten alive by the rampaging on land or lurking in the waters Ticu that had attacked grasping at the opportunity. Mussel had been struck hard as well, the port warehouses destroyed and the fires stopping at the ruined portions of the city. More than five hundred rear personnel, a hundred and forty Owls plus twenty-six locals were also killed that first hellish minutes.
>
> The only ship unaccounted for and rumored to have escaped the mayhem, the Galleass Crying Valkyrie that had been anchored near the exit of the port due to her size. Her captain succeeding in getting the warship to safety away from the burning wreckages left behind by the wyvern’s wrath.
>
> D’Orsi spotted the wyvern returning from Mussel that afternoon but the Monarch didn’t engage as he probably wanted to reach his own men or for some other undisclosed reason. The Commandant kept the loss of the fleet from his men but rumors spread like wildfire and Claus Viceroy who hadn’t been aboard the ships that morning reached him with promises of double pay for staying the course.
>
> But there was no easy road ahead really despite D’Orsi developing a new plan to utilize the expedition’s seemingly great advantage in better land units and the Monarch’s judicious (though devastating) usage of his wyvern. Garth had dealt them what a pensive Adriano Monte had described as ‘a blasted coup de main.’ A crippling blow that they couldn’t recover from.
>
> Soon the mercenaries’ fortune in land battles will end as well as unbeknownst to them the day of the road scrap a part of the vaunted and very much operational Imperial Phalanx arrived in Taras. They had ridden hard without stops and bringing no supplies with them. The 3rd Othrim (the unit involved) would change horses before nightfall and travel all night towards the returning soldiers of Captain Fane.
>
> Fane ordered his men to stop seven kilometers from the Temples district, regroup and turn around, with some heading immediately after the moving fast Othrim. The overwhelmingly Zilan manned unit (five hundred heavy Imperial Hoplites) kept cutting the distance from Vardar’s recuperating by the road men. Vardar waited for D’Orsi’s larger 333 force to arrive so they could attempt a final massive push towards Taras to decapitate Wetull’s leadership before their morale plummeted, but Lyceron’s Hoplites reached the Band of Silver’s soldiers first, early the afternoon of the second day.
>
>
>
> -
>
>
>
> Head Chef Saul Ferrero
>
> Former scribe of the 333, member of D’Orsi’s Expedition
>
> Complete History
>
> of the Realm’s Cuisine & Culinary delights
>
> -through the centuries
>
> (with recipes)
>
> Alongside a brief synopsis of the politics and major events of the time
>
> Annotated by Lord Sirio Veturius
>
> 3rd Edition
>
> Year Three (195)
>
> Chapter VII
>
> Coup de main
>
> -Prelude to a terrible meat grinder, a matter for all Jelin & the man-eaters of Calamer-
>
> Garth vs Riveras - The Wine Wars of 192-201
>
> Published circa 212 NC