Reports had come in about an explosion, but it just turned out to be Hank’s workshop.
“Man, I'm glad I found him a place on the edge of town,” Francis said as he looked at the crater. It was glowing alternating hues of purple and green.
Locke peered over the palace wall. “Yeah. I reckon it might make a nice swimming pool, once the toxic waste is eliminated.”
The Marine looked up at his second favorite necromancer. “Please tell me you know what's going on, and how to stop it.”
“I don't know for sure,” the lich said, “But I saw something similar once, right before a cataclysm.”
When he saw the incomprehension on Francis’s face, Locke elaborated. “Usually before things really pop off, the rules change a bit. Nothing major, mind. Just enough to shake things up and keep things interesting.”
Francis grunted in frustration. “Alright. Things are changing. What can I do about it?”
“Nothing,” replied Locke, “The change has already happened. All you can do is figure out how to exploit the new rules before someone else does. That's how you end up on top.”
He pointed a bony finger at the column of men on horses riding towards the city. They were heavily armored and swinging banners. “Now, who do you reckon they are?” the lich asked.
***
Skye and Indigo, Paladins of the Holy Order of the Avocado, rode triumphantly towards the city. Riding with them were assorted Knights and Paladins from the Kingdom of Grumble, which brought their total number to nearly three hundred.
Their cunning plan to launch a surprise attack in the early afternoon had gone off without a hitch. The massive black stone gates of Brexis were open, and they could see the city beyond.
“For glory!” shouted Indigo as he led the charge.
***
The Marine watched as familiar banners dipped and fell. It probably had something to do with the fact that the people holding them were being ripped apart by feral skeletons.
“It couldn't happen to a nicer bunch of guys,” Francis said as he enjoyed the carnage. Undead were swarming over the column of riders like ants on a corpse. “On the one hand, they pissed off the horde. But on the other hand, we were probably going to end up doing that eventually. So, better them than us.”
“Yeah! Fuck those guys!” Willow agreed as she made some very unladylike gestures at the paladins below. “Where's your god now?” the Death Cleric taunted.
“Actually, I'm right here,” said a husky voice.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Francis and Willow turned around to see Shiv standing behind them. She was wearing full battle rattle and a shit eating grin.
“Oh thank Francis that was just a joke,” said Willow as wiped away a bead of sweat, “I don't have the time to mend fences with the other pantheons right now.”
“Where do you want my team?” Shiv asked in her normal voice.
Francis had never been one to waste a good distraction. Feral skeletons were already making their way across the city towards the battle. “Your people are pretty stealthy. Have them sneak in behind the skeletons as they leave and guide people to safety.”
They had a number of safe zones set up around Brexis. Most were near Temple Row, but there were a fair number situated in pubs across the city. They had the thickest doors and were hardened against outward intrusion.
Francis watched as feral undead flowed through the city streets, drawn by the blood and commotion. Brexis was designed like a spiral, with a ring road along the outer border. Normally the city’s undead workforce walked down the streets in an endless loop, waiting for someone to tell them what to do.
As the battle near the main gate went on, more skeletons were turning feral as they walked into the fray. The attacking force was either too brave, or too stupid to retreat. They continued fighting as more and more undead piled onto them.
He eyed the mass of undead. “I'd give someone's left nut for a daisy cutter right now.”
“What's a daisy cutter?” Willow asked.
“It's a big fucking bomb,” the Marine explained, “We replaced them with the MOAB, but the thing could flatten a forest.”
Francis felt a tingle in the animal part of his brain. Hank was missing, presumed vaporized, but there were other sources of ordnance. He made a gamble, and cast Telepathy.
“Hey Stonebreaker,” the Marine said as he felt his reserves dip, “I need as many thunderbird eggs as you can lay your hands on, and I need them now. Don't ask me how I know, and I won't ask you where you got them.”
The dwarf took a second to reply. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I'm a respectable bar owner, not a weapons dealer.”
Francis wasn't a walking truth detector like Sir Auldric, but even he could smell that lie. Most of the pubs and bars in Brexis were secretly fronts for foreign governments. And the Golden Frog was part of a franchise based out of Grumble. If anyone was smuggling weapons into the city, Stonebreaker was at least taking a cut.
The Marine looked at the ominously glowing crater that used to be a workshop. “That's a shame,” he said, “Because my buddy Hank’s place just blew up. Magic is all fucky wucky right now, and who knows how that will affect magical explosives? They might just go off without warning.”
There was another pause. “I may know a guy,” admitted Stonebreaker, “Coincidentally, he is here with me at the Golden Frog. Perhaps you can take them away and dispose of them properly.”
Francis decided to twist the knife a bit. “That'll cost you. Free drinks for me and my lady until the end of the year. Hazardous material disposal isn't cheap.”
“Fine. Just hurry,” replied Stonebreaker, “One of my people just told me that the eggs are glowing. And I don't want to find out what happens next.”
The Marine grinned. “I'm on my way.”