Story So Far:
* In a flashback scene, Ingrid learns about Rogue Rifts.
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S03E11
NO FIGHTING AT THE WAR CAMP
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The elf sighed, wishing that Ingrid could take this more seriously. "They're gold-ranks, Ingrid. They probably want us to hand over the Titan's remains and probably even our own familiars."
"...and use their peerage as leverage." Philia said "We'll be making big enemies big time if we don't."
"Those King Hawks are led by that falcon-folk Talarek of House Castor. He's heir to his father's Barony." Khorak grunted, making a displeased crocodilian bellow in his throat.
Alster made adorable dog whimpers, worried about making enemies with powerful nobility. His team nervously huddled behind him. The Iron Stampede on the other hand, stood straighter, their expressions grim.
Zefir sighed, "I'll go polish the howitzer then..."
"You do that, Baseplate." Philia said, touching her earpiece, "Outlaw, you might want to warm up the ATV, and prepare to bulldoze your way through hundreds of people and break through the gate."
"Understood, King Fish." Gwen muttered, "It wouldn't be my first time."
Kinu and Kvaris looked at Philia but their expressions gave nothing away. The implications of that huge iron wagon trampling its way through a city full of people brought to mind quite a gory sight.
The Furies and Stampede looked up at her as well. It took them a few seconds to realize that she was talking to someone else.
"House Castor is at Orinn-Fadel's Eyrie at the Tower March." Khorak added.
There was no flicker of emotion in Philia's eyes "His father's friend to a Margrave?"
"Nominally, he's subordinate but they have connections." Yakael cooed.
"English, Philia?" Cecil asked, not familiar with the political hierarchy.
"A Margrave is someone who holds land at the border," Philia explained "That makes them quite powerful because they control trade and defense."
"Ah," said Ingrid, nodding thoughtfully "Outsourced border patrol" she added, chuckling.
"The Tower Marches are adjacent to Elion-Nosco." Peanut squeaked, "which makes them quite valuable to Veles."
"If I remember my history right..." Philia continued "Orinn-Fadel was among the many tiny bits of land ceded from the Tower Marches, it ended a civil war, lords get their lands but in practice they're just autonomous bits still legally adhering to Tower Marches' state laws. In a manner of speaking."
"So if we piss off Baron Castor, he can get the Margrave to cause us trouble?" Cecil squeaked, though there was no worry in his voice.
"In theory...yes." Philia said slowly. "But you need to understand that these little baronies were ceded reluctantly, otherwise they would have willingly annexed themselves to Elion-Nosco. King Raldia spent quite a bit of gold wooing them over..." the ex-princess paused a bit, mindful of keeping her identity hidden "...as far as my contacts have told me."
"On the other hand, if the Barony dissolves, I'm sure the Margrave would love to reward whomever contributed to that house's downfall" the crocodile chuckled darkly.
"Talarek is heir-apparent." Yakael added "but word is his siblings are still vying for his seat."
"He's the heir." Kvaris remarked "He should be reading books and learning this land's history, not swinging his weight around."
"Oh don't look at us." Kinu said quickly "Once we do fifty years of adventuring, sister and I will take up the old coot's mantle."
Ingrid chuckled as the two sisters referred to Freid's greatest soldier as an "old coot."
"Why do you call your old man an 'old coot?', from what I've heard he's the greatest warrior around."
"Indeed." Kvaris said factually "He's probably still stronger thank you."
"But he can be really whimsical." Kinu added "One time we went sailing to the Maelstrom Isles..."
At the mention of these islands, Ingrid and Cecil were surprised when everyone's ears perked up.
"What?" Yakael half-yelled, "You went there?!"
"We were only twelve then." Kvaris sighed. "Too young to see the Gold Chamberlain's face."
"The Grim Reaper" Philia explained to Cecil and Ingrid.
Even Siria was aghast at the idea of Amaduscia taking his two young children there.
"What are these 'Maelstrom' Isles?" Ingrid asked, not understanding the significance.
"They're islands surrounded by a perpetual storm," Rhamad explained "the waters are infested with waterspouts and whirlpools, it's virtually impossible to navigate to them."
"There's only a few stretches of water that remains... normal." Kairos added "We call them the water-bridges of fate."
"Because only fate will dictate if that stretch of water will 'hold' or collapse into a whirlpool." the elf-archer girl said. "That said, those islands are rich with valuable treasure in the form of rare stones and valuable plants that can only be found there."
"Old coot it is." Ingrid said, nodding solemnly. "Alright, back on topic, just let me do the talking. If push comes to shove we..." her lips curled into a smile then laughed. "I'm sorry, Philia...what the hell? Barrel the ATV through the city streets?"
"It's a possibility," Philia said flatly "the second junior there gets a boo-boo, he might accuse us of anything heinous."
"Reasonable," Cecil declared "We can play that game too! They got any nutcase groups at the Tower Marches or anything?"
"Yup," Philia replied "let's just say that the Marches are in turn a collection of lands all swearing fealty to the Margrave, who in turn answers to the King. Some adjacent March lands to this day are still grumbling that the allotted territory towards those spoiled barons impinged on their own, so if you wanna do balaclava antics, there's only too many groups that would love to either play delivery boy or claim responsibility."
"Wow." Ingrid chuckled "Isekai Terrorism anypercent speedrun. World Record."
"Beat you to that, Ingrid." Philia said "I was eight when I brought down two-"
"WHOA! WHOA!! WHOA!" interjected both Cecil and Ingrid, "Let's not get too specific here! There are Americans here!"
Zefir was laughing.
“It was two bridges!” Philia protested.
"Were they suspension bridges?" Cecil inquired, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
"Well..." Philia's voice trailed off, visibly uncomfortable.
“Bad!” Cecil exclaimed.
"Technically, I'm shy of two weeks old here, Philia." Ingrid said.
“Terrorism?” Iohann asked, not familiar with the term.
“It means harming lots of people for a political or ideological motive.” Ingrid explained.
Siria's elf-like ears perked up. "Isn't that every noble's hobby?" she quipped.
"Ooooh!" Cecil exclaimed, his slime body wriggling in mirth "Sick burn!"
Ingrid and Philia began swatting at their bodies, as if their clothes had caught on fire as they comically feigned distress.
“Welp, that’s another item off of our bucket list.” Cecil squeaked “The asshole aristocrat encounter!”
“What?” Philia cried in mock dismay “What about me?”
“You’re a terrorist.” Zefir deadpanned “All that money you’re sitting on is blood money, it doesn’t count.”
Ingrid put a finger to her earpice, "Starchaser Actual to Glados, advise all Ram Ranchers for a possible Code Exodus..." she said, she motioning for everyone else to halt, then sauntered over to the group of Gold-Rankers eyeing them malicious. She waved to Cecil to accompany her.
"Let's get this shit over then." Cecil smiled grimly.
The group of King Hawks were dressed in an ensemble that would make a peacock look modest. They were all bird-folk, their well-preened feathers shimmered in iridiscent hues, and their armor looked more suited for a royal wedding than a dungeon dive. The leader, a falcon, strutted forward with a smug look.
"Can I help you?" Ingrid asked, stopping a few feet in front of the falcon man. "In case you're thinking of it, nothing belonging to my team is for sale, nor are they to be given to anyone."
"Not the carcass of the Lifebane Titan or all the monsters it had lying half-dead before we killed them all." Cecil added.
"Neither are the mice, nor the Fae Marsh Hare. Nor am I." Ingrid continued "Ingrid Lily, by the way, I'm the leader of this team The Whales."
The falcon tilted his head in the direction of Siria.
"Come here, Siria!" He called, "I don't have time to deal with your pet!"
Rather than respond, Siria briefly looked at the source of the sound before turning her eyes back to Khorak whom she had a little tête-à-tête with.
"I don't think he understood you, Ingrid." Cecil said cutely, but his voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I think you need to say it slower."
"Hi...I'm...Ingrid." She comically waved her arms for effect.
"And now we just wait, might take him half an hour to understand, you know, like that sloth at the DMV from Zootopia." Cecil chuckled.
"You know... I've seen hours of Judy, but I've never watched the movie."
"You need Jesus!" Cecil exclaimed, backing away from her.
Talarek, the haughty falcon, glared both at them down. Whatever unknown language they were speaking was flawlessly captured by his Interpretation Spell, and despite some obscure references and odd terms like "Dee-Emm-Vee", he could tell he was being insulted.
"You!" The falcon pointed his finger at Ingrid "Get me your master! I shall discuss-"
"See?" Cecil interrupted "I told you it would take him a while to understand. His brain works slow."
Ingrid couldn’t help but laugh. Talarek seethed as he belated realizedly that not only might the human be speaking the truth that she was indeed the team's leader; an absurd thought as it was, but that he had unwittingly cast himself as the "slow-learning buffoon" they had been mocking.
"Enough of you, slime!" Talarek retorted, there was a flicker of worry in his eyes. This Cecil not only was talking but had no core. His beady eyes looked back at his without any regard to peerage and the portal he resided in, led back to an opulent room patio far more regal than his own. He wondered if this slime was already the familiar of some greater noble and considered if he should reconsider his approach.
"I'd be careful..." Ingrid warned him calmly. "Last I heard, making an Elder Slime angry isn't exactly good for your health."
"Gotta work on that roll and parry time." Cecil joked cryptically.
"This is Cecil," Ingrid introduced "He's my number two-"
"The number two's in front of you." Cecil quipped, causing Ingrid and Philia to lose composure, turning away briefly to laugh.
Talarek's feathers bristled, there was something more to that underhanded insult but he couldn't put a finger to it. Something about it that made it more grating than simply being called second-class that made two of their number laugh too much.
"Cecil...Cecil, please..." Ingrid wheezed as the slime had that smug self-satisfied grin. "Anyway..." the girl composed herself. As I said, I'm Ingrid, I lead the Whales. Siria isn't my master. Those fine folks travelling with us are The Iron Stampede, and The Green Furies... now I'm told you're Lord-"
"Number four, Chicken Wonton with extra Sichuan sauce!" Cecil called out in some kind of accent, followed by playing a sound clip of a brass gong from his Muse Box.
Ingrid and Philia really lost it this time, bursting out in laughter.
A crowd had gathered around them now, drawn by the commotion. They were openly chuckling at the sight of the flustered Gold-Rankers. While they had no better understanding of the source of the slime and human's humor, it didn't matter; the fact that a noble, someone who should be well-read and better enlightened was struck clueless painted him as not only the butt of their joke but also their intellectual inferior.
"Enough!" Talarek yelled, wincing as he realized that since he had made the first outburst, he now was on the losing end of the dignity stick. He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "I am Lord Talarek, heir-apparent of House Castor, and I demand to speak with the leader of this...paltry team!"
"See?" Cecil smirked. "Give it a while." He turned around to address the spider-bot "Neith! How long ago did Ingrid say she was the leader?"
"Replaying." The spider-bot replied, before playing back the sound clip.
"The statement ‘Ingrid Lily, by the way, I'm the leader of this team, The Whales.' Was mentioned...one-minute... and... forty....seconds... ago." Many either jumped in surprise or did a double-take as the "spider golem" perfectly imitated Ingrid's voice.
Ingrid, Philia, Cecil, and Zefir were snickering as Neith recited the timestamp. There just was something funny with the way Neith was talking normally, only to use an overly synthesized voice for the numbers.
Back in Autumhollow, Zefir was laughing up a storm.
"Oh god, I hope to never hear that voice again." Zefir said, in complete stitches. "I am in hell!"
Gwen tilted her head curiously, her cat ears twitching. "Why is that?"
"Back on Earth, you can use a telephone to speak with businesses to provide you with assistance. Some guilds however can have many customers...in the hundreds of thousands." Philia explained. "They use primitive thinking machines like Glados to organize the concerns of their customers into a queue."
"Ooooh." Viel said "I get it now, so Baseplate is being horribly reminded of having to wait in line."
"Very long lines!" Sammy giggled.
"One minute and forty seconds!" Cecil exclaimed, "I told you he's slow!"
And now some of the crowd were openly guffawing at Talarek's expense.
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"Don't be a fool!" Talarek snapped, "No one would ever believe that."
"Careful, Talarek." Ingrid narrowed her eyes, her grin wide as ever as she tapped the guild badge on her scarf "You are leveling serious allegations against the Fenrir."
The crowd murmured amongst themselves, the human had a point, questioning a badge was questioning the guilds authority.
"Also," Ingrid added "You are questioning the City Guard of Teth-Odin, they let me in here, does your daddy have enough clout to throw dirt at this city? You see, last I checked, Teth-Odin's contribution to Veles' economy is the dungeon, meanwhile your place exports-"
"Avian flu." Cecil quickly filled in.
Talarek squawked in anger as whatever this insufferable slime said made the human dissolve into another giggling fit, which in turn made everyone else laugh even harder.
"Avian flu?" Viel asked.
"One time ago, many birds on Earth, ones for consumption, had been struck with a plague that rendered them unfit for eating. They were all culled." Neith explained, her voice a monotone contrast to the laughter around her. "Cecil is comparing Talarek to diseased poultry."
"Alright..." Ingrid said, taking a deep breath. "So what do you want?"
"I came to relieve your team of those squandered resources." Talarek growled, pointing at the mice "An insolent animal like you, pretending to be people deserves to be flogged to learn your place! We will be taking the Titan's remains, and your familiars, as reparations for your disrespect."
"Pika-choo!" Cecil squeaked cutely.
There was an audible cascade of metallic clicks as all the mice disengaged the safety catch of their guns. Cuddly, in the middle of eating a carrot, "ermm'd" in agitation, biting the root crop in half with a loud crunching sound, before jumping out of the elf archer's arms to stand next to the mice. Johnny croaked and wriggled his way to the front lines as well, ready for a fight.
Seeing the mice quietly form a half-circle behind her, Ingrid raised her hands in a motion for calm, before turning back to Talarek.
"Easy now, Team Rocket, before you go blasting off. If you're just looking for more familiars, I'm sure there's a lot of third-world countries you can get gophers from, have you tried the back of your crack house at... where you live again?"
"Podunk, Squawikstan." Cecil replied.
“R-right… Podunk Squawkistan, lovely place, I-PPPPFFTTT!” Ingrid’s suddenly broke cackling.
Talarek's plumage bristled in displeasure, he was prepared to be rejected with either a defiant "no" accompanied by some crass remarks in order to boost their bravado. The two were annoyingly sophisticated. Anger welled up in him, but he could find no riposte.
While still cackling, Cecil pressed on.
"Have you tried recruiting the cokehead pigeons across the street from where you live?" the slime suggested, "...they haven't flapped a wing yet and they're already high."
Ingrid was sounding like a goose having an aneurysm.
"Enough of your jests, you damned slime!" the falcon snarled. His intuition told him they were insulting his homeland and his people, though exactly what sort of caricature he was drawing in his mind was unknown. The human's constant braying in mirth however, suggested it was extremely degrading.
"I'm serious!" Cecil protested "What about all those big raven-folk lining up at your mom's-"
Ingrid was slapping her knee, doubled over in laughter. "Cecil!" she choked out.
Talarek's feathers turned a darker shade of red as the crowd's amusement grew, turning his embarrassment into rage.
The human was humbly holding up a hand as she composed herself, signalling she wanted to speak.
"I'm sorry..." There was a hint of contrition in her voice "But we're not giving you anything. Not the familiars nor the Titan, nor the prestige that goes with killing the Titan. You want glory and prestige? You get in line with everyone else, and go into the Rogue Rift. Shouldn't be a problem since you look like Gold-Ranks."
“They’re wasted on you and our ilk!” Talarek yelled indignantly, "with those in my possession. I bring glory to my noble house. To my noble lands. They're wasted on you, you...people." he sneered, looking down on them, his feathers ruffling in contempt "You're just fighting for gold, you don't have a sense of honor. The guilds let you operate untouched because-"
"OH MY GOD HERE COMES THE BORING POLITICS!" Cecil yelled "Don't give me that crap, Talarek! You just want henchmen to fight your wars, and you want a stuffed Titan to scare off the rest of Veles!"
"You mean Elion-Nosco." Ingrid frowned.
"Awww bullshit!" Cecil squeaked "He wants to posture and get more Lebensraum from the Margrave or else he'll defect to Elion-Nosco, that's why he wants bargaining chips!"
Ingrid's eyes narrowed "That's treason, My Lord."
Talarek swallowed nervously, several unfriendly gazes were being leveled at him. The human was right, he had phrased his intentions poorly, if it wasn’t for their damned buffoonery at his expense that got him all riled up! But an accusation this grave cuts both ways…
"Falsely accusing your betters is a serious crime, human." Talarek glowered indignantly. "To say nothing about not paying proper respect to a duly appointed Lord."
Ingrid stepped closer, though neither her tone nor her posture was threatening. Her hands remained on her hips.
"Sir, I'm from North Carolina, the twelfth of the United States of America." Ingrid said, her tone subconsciously sinking deeper and deeper into her native Southern Drawl "Where we're from, we don't observe the kind of hierarchy based on 'Because I Say So' logic such as ones held by Kings, Lords, or Saints. In our country, we only respect power that's earned by-"
Philia, Cecil, and Zefir were having a giggling fit as Ingrid's acquired neutral accent dipped deep into Banjo Country, although her vocabulary mercifully stood its ground. The situation grew more absurd when Neith began tormenting the earthlings by playing on her speakers a brass band rendition of "The Star Spangled Banner". To add more fuel to the fire, the spider-bot activated a telescoping flagpole and flew the Stars and Stripes.
At the first notes of the national anthem and the sound of hydraulics from Neith's telescoping flagpole, the mice squeaked loudly and stamped their feet, snappily turning to face the flag and salute, forcing Philia to scrunch up her face and try to hold in a burst of laughter as she did the same, her shoulders shaking in mirth as the mice loudly began to squeak "The Star Spangled Banner" along with the music, which was also contributing to Cecil, and Zefir's rapidly wavering composure. The sight alone would have been adorable, touching even.
"...so, I understand where you're coming from, Sir. Wanting to stand up for your people and all that," Ingrid continued, her North Carolina accent heavy with emotion. "But let me tell you something. Where I'm from, it doesn't matter where you're from. Those who shed their blood in service of our country are heroes loved and respected by all. So don't tell me what just because we're outlanders we don't have a voice here. We've shed our blood and laid our lives and by God, I will not let you take that away from me or any of us. Our sweat and tears have sanctified this place, and the fruits of our labor will not adorn the altar of your ego. Why, just a few days ago I lit the funeral pyres of brave men who sacrificed themselves in this very dungeon. They may not have been born here in Teth-Odin, or Veles, but they deserve statues, not you, who have-"
Peanut started weeping quietly as Ingrid made a defiant speech in honor of her fallen teammates, before Philia pulled her in for a hug with her free arm. The little mushroom blubbered and cried out on her shoulder, something that helped anchor Philia's composure amidst the absurdity of the situation. The onlookers saw the tears fall out of Philia's eyes and her utterly red face (from trying not to laugh), and averted their gaze respectfully.
"D-dammit, Neith!" Philia hissed violently.
"AMERICA!" Neith yelled, waving the flagpole, making the mice squeak to the anthem only louder, causing Philia, Cecil, and Zefir to snort.
"...and my great-grandfather, Patrick Blair fought on the beaches of Omaha, the man wouldn't die, a hundred wounds pierced body, but God the man did not die! Not until every single one of those Nazi nests were rooted out with fire and lead! He died on his feet after the last gunshot was fired on that blood-soaked sand. He wasn't no Duke, nor was he a knight, but his country gave him a home, a place to raise his family, so when the time came that America was looking for volunteers, volunteers to fight a war half a world away to save not his own people, but foreigner we called friends, he answered the call! And all for what? For the thankless masses, but we're Americans, goddamnit! And we will spill our blood just so our own people back at home can be so carefree to think like that! It was only-"
Ingrid was lost in the moment, ironically not seeing the banner fluttering in the dungeon breeze, still engrossed in her vitrioloic manifesto. The earthling's obscure humor that once made a fool of the bird-folk and his feather cohorts now having spectacularly backfired on them as they valiantly fought to keep themselves from laughing and represent their country, their world, with all due dignity.
Talarek's lackeys, who couldn't muster the wits to help their master now, wisely kept their mouths shut. They had nothing to offer, nothing to refute this humans' speech. The Drow Solenrala wrapped around her body must have been earned at such a heavy price. It alone held their tongues for they had no visible marks of valor like she did. Ever elf present at this point, now glared at their team with searing reproach. At this point, the King Hawks weren't just disrespecting Ingrid, but disrespecting their sacred garb.
"...and though I may no longer be able to return to my homeland," Ingrid continued, raising her fist in the air as she gazed up at the darkened ceiling above, "...by the grace of God, I will uphold her ideals. I offered my life once to the Red, White, and Blue, and by God, I am not afraid to bleed on those stripes to keep them red! I don't need no pedigree, nor appointment by no King to defend that land of mine that nurtured countless dreams, for every one that-"
Cecil's slime body was jiggling uncontrollably as he tried his hardest not to laugh, his tendril shaking as he continued to hold the salute, the whimpers and whining sounds he made made the now-concerned King Hawks turn their eyes in shame as they mistook his valiant attempt to corral his mirth with patriotic fervor and respect for the fallen brave. The human continued to speak proudly of being a citizen to a land where people put fanatic templar orders to shame as they gave their lives without a second thought. All Cecil was thinking however, was how funny the mice were sounding squeaking along to the tune.
"A land of the truly free, dammit! Where every man, woman, and child can say 'Get off my lawn!' to anyone they choose, to walk their streets without bowing their head to anyone but God Almighty himself! We may not like each other at times, but God as my witness, we're all Americans! And I will fight to the death to keep your freedom to tell me to fuck off! I-"
The King Hawks looked at each other, utterly flabbergasted at the human's vitriolic rant. It was clear she wasn't going to be swayed by their noble titles.
Some in the gathered crowd were sniffling, some sobbing as Ingrid’s stirring words brought memories of fallen friends. Rivalries were put aside, grudges were set down. In the end, they all bled here, they all lost someone here, everyone at some point in their history here in Teth-Odin was saved because of someone’s sacrifice.
"...and that's what America's all about! Personally I could care less if you want a curtsy your way, but I too have an obligation! An obligation to my parents, and their parents, and their grandparents, stretching back to when the first settlers thanked God for guiding their ships to that land of freedom. How can I call myself their daughter, the blood they've spilled on my behalf all wasted just so I could bow down to you? God did not put a fire in me to burn incense, but light the torches of Liberty!" Ingrid finished, her cheeks a bit flushed with passion.
"Can I get an Amen!?" Neith yelled.
As she spoke that last part, the mice squeaked the final part "For the Land of the Free, and the Hooooome ooooof, the Braaaaaaave!" extra loud with cute mousy squeaks that pushed the earthlings except for Ingrid even closer to the threshold. On cue, Viel's firebirds did a fly-by on Neith's request. The cat girl had no idea why, but saw no harm in doing so. A sight that only added to the absurdity and pushed Philia and Cecil closer to breaking out in laughter.
There was an awkward silence, the mirth of the two reincarnators totally lost to her. Ingrid's features softened and she patted the slime affectionately. Mistaking his effort to contain mirth for an attempt to hold back tears.
"Thanks Cecil." Ingrid said, touched that even an otherworlder slime considered her former homeworld his own.
"N-no p-problem..." The slime said, his voice wavering as he tried to keep face. He quickly shot up high into the ceiling, before bolting to his room to finally laugh.
“You should be ashamed of yourselves!” Ingrid glared at the King Hawks, jabbing her finger in the air at them.
Philia had it worst. She had nowhere to let it out.
___
Following Ingrid's speech, the mob assembled had angrily called for the departure of the King Hawks. Numerous adventurers present were outsiders themselves, which led them to empathize with Ingrid's firm stance to behave as a citizen of her homeland, and touched by her love for her country. Concurring without question, they deemed that the King Hawks had overstepped their bounds and acted dishonorably. The Gold-Rankers quickly slinked away in disgrace, knowing they could not enact any retaliation on the Whales. Their word may have weight but so did the words of many who watched.
The following day, an announcement was posted on the Liaison Office's board and soon a sworn written statement from several witnesses regarding the dishonorable behavior of Talarek and his men was circulated throughout the guilds.
But that is a story for another time…
Meanwhile, Ingrid and Cecil had received an astounding standing ovation from the gathered adventurers. When the audience had gathered around to witness the altercation, they saw the human; who looked like a Nemesis-Stalker dressed as a killer drow, and her slime companion; who could only be the larva of an Elder Slime. They all had believed that all it would take for the confrontation to escalate into an orgy of violence was a few choice words from the arrogant Lord of Castor.
In hindsight, even if the confrontation led to violence, Siria could not be held at fault for the pair's actions. The fact that the Nemesis-Stalker donned a Drow Solenrala, an esteemed garb under Siria's own tutelage, was a testament to the human's exceptional skill. Similarly, the Elder Slime larva's ability to cast and maintain a spell as advanced as the flying portal coupled with its unexpectedly sharp wit, suggested an intellect adept at deploying its magical abilities in deadly and unforeseen ways. Therefore, Talarek's choice to further antagonize two extremely dangerous entities was universally regarded as an act of utter stupidity.
The most astonishing aspect of the entire event was that the only thing eviscerated was Talarek's pride. The irony of mere "animals" verbally besting a nobleman; who should've had the high ground on matters of wit and intellect, was not lost on the crowd. Finally, Ingrid's impassioned speech had brought the house down, and she wasn't even aiming to denounce Talarek's noble origins but rather, bring to light the absurdity of his greed and entitlement, and the collective valor of the common folk as well as their sacrifices that allowed him to live so high and mighty. It was a declamation that resonated deeply within the hearts of all present, and the echo of it washed over the dungeon like a wave of righteous indignation.
The crowd had watched as Talarek's expressions went from shock, to indignation, to fury, and then a profound shame as Ingrid's words hit him harder than any sword could. It was the cherry atop the slice of humble pie, much to the audience's delight.
___
"Last time I heard anyone talk that much..." Rhamad murmured to Khorak "It was some perfumed noble with a mouth full of hot air."
"Indeed," Khorak chuckled quietly. "Instead, our good Ingrid brought forth real fire, not pathetic puffs of wind. Last time words stirred my heart so much was from an Enhancement Spell, not a speech."
"I wonder where this country of Ingrid is located..." Yakael mused, "Seems like it would make for an interesting journey."
"Don't bet on it." Kairos sighed "Philia mentioned they were forcibly teleported here by some cone hat magic, I doubt we'll be seeing it anytime soon..."
Meanwhile the Green Furies were also excitedly chattering amongst themselves.
"Never judge a book by its cover..." The elf girl, Lila giggled "To think such stuck-up nobles would be humbled in their own demesne of words, by the likes of Ingrid and Cecil..."
"I can see why Siria has such deference for her..." Alster said, "... I've never heard such learned speech from a human. Makes you wonder what else is out here in this world that can surprise us."
"Did you notice the mice though?" The young Sorian, Lenar whispered. "They looked like they were ready to fight, even though none of the Whales commanded anything... I've never seen Tixi Mice do that except to protect their own."
On the other hand, Kvaris lightly elbowed Philia.
"Spill it..." she whispered. "What was so funny? Ingrid's words were... powerful. Moving, even."
Fortunately, Ingrid wasn't nearby to hear Philia and Cecil give a breakdown of all the jokes that flew under everyone's radar, as the three teams made their way to the Titan Cage, the Starchaser was deluged by the crowd, congratulating her as if she was running for president.
"Ingrid for President!" Neith cried, waving the flag. Her laser-guided precision joke once again caused the earthlings (except Ingrid who didn't hear it) to laugh, especially when she started playing "Yankee Doodle" which made the mice march in step.
___
The Titan Cage had been transformed into a war camp, several rows of tents and campfires stood in neat rows. The air rang with the hammers of smiths forging, repairing, and imbuing weapons and armor. Gone was the ostentatious posturing of adventurers trying to puff themselves up. Or at the very least, the paradigm had shifted. A burly minotaur took off his tunic and flexed his muscles reassuringly before a team of novices, his hide looking too tough to be scratched by even the sharpest teeth and claws of any known monster. A paladin swung his surfboard-sized sword, filling all viewers with confidence that no monster carapace could ever hope to stand against such divine might. Orc warriors painted their faces in a ferocious visage, causing many onlookers to subconsciously stand tall and grind their fears beneath their boots. Kobold veterans were huddled around by others as they discussed tactics and strategy. The war camp looked like an army without a general, a confederation of the willing, united by the promise of glory, wealth, and the thrill of the fight.
Some had grouped themselves to stand guard at the various entrances of the Titan cages, barricades of all sorts of materials, either conjured from their spells such as boulders or ice, or brought in from their item boxes, denied entry to any groups of monsters that might've come in to investigate the sudden intrusion of light and sound.
Others used this as an opportunity to make a good amount of coin; instead of coming there to tackle the rift, some had made themselves useful by using their magic to create various sources of illumination, they were either paid in gold, or in kind by giving them food and rejuvenation potions.
One team set up a soup kitchen, using the monsters hunted down recently as ingredients. Healers from the churches above had also set up shop. Now that they were protected by many; the wounded, envenomed, and cursed now had a quick route for healing, not just from the expedition from the Rogue Rift but also from within the rest of the dungeon itself.
The Whales, Iron Stampede, and Green Furies had gathered around a fire, still chuckling out the last of their mirth as Ingrid finally rejoined them, Cecil, Philia, Neith, and Zefir through the spider-bot’s speakers had just finished breaking down the last of the comedic nuances when she had returned.
"I got word from those who've already ventured into the rift..." Ingrid began before sighing "Clairvoyants and auguries suggest over five-hundred clusters."
Rhamad clucked his tongue, shaking his head.
"the area extends over a hundred miles." Ingrid continued, there people posted in the first ten to watch over the clusters. They will be collapsed last for obvious reasons. For us Whales, we'll be heading to the straight South where they've pinpointed the largest cluster."
"What kind of resistance are we looking at?" Cecil asked.
"Target saturated." Ingrid replied "from what I can gather, there's herds of herbivores, which in turn are preyed on by all sorts of predators. We'll have to assume the herbivores can get territorial and act aggressively. The plant life is growing like crazy, which brings in all sorts of browsers and grazers to feast on them, which in turn gets predators coming over to prey on them..."
"Which means..." Kvaris said "...the only winners are the plants because no matter who dies, it's all nourishment for them."
"It's like the effects of the Red Moon have manifested on that world as well." Lila remarked.
"There's too many of them to be taken out in one day, much less a week." Khorak croaked "But at the very least we've prevented their number from pouring into our world."
"I suppose at this point, the best we can do is just hunt what monsters we can until the Jormungandr bring in their own Gold-Ranks to shut the portal for good." Alster whined.
"Why not use the howitzer?" Zefir suggested.
"Give me a cost-benefit analysis, Neith." Philia said.
Neith ran a few simulations in her system. "Cost ineffective. Best used for taking out wholesale biological targets. If you're thinking of using nuclear shells, you're out of luck. You will have no means to Item Box them."
"What's a noo-clear shell?" Kairos asked.
"It tears apart the fabric of creation." Philia said, simplifying it for them "A tiny tear could cause a great amount of destruction before the fabric of reality mends itself, even then, the area of effect will be cursed for years..."
Rhamad snorted "Sounds a little too cone hat to use."
"Agreed," Ingrid shrugged, "not advisable to carcasses you want to Item Box."
"What about the short-acting nerve gases?" Cecil suggested.
Philia shook her head "that still could take a good hour or two, by that time it could waft into people's noses, not an option."
"WMD's are out." Ingrid declared firmly "We're not bringing out the howitzer."
"What if I just fly out there?" Cecil asked
"Too dangerous, we don't know the extent of your barrier." Ingrid said, "and if something does get through, I may not be able to recall you in time."
"The old ways then..." Philia mused.
"Green Fury," Ingrid said, "It's time you guys form a coalition with others now, look out for each other, and keep your wits about you. This won't be a battleground, this is a siege."
The novice team nodded, and then went off to network with the others. The Iron Stampede finished off their wine before they too rose to their feet.
"It's time for us to do our own Titan-hunting." Khorak throatily announced, and then his team too faded into the crowd.
Ingrid waved to them, then checked her watch. There should still be plenty of sunlight left.
"Let's go." She said, standing up "Let's see if we can finish by dinner."
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INDEX: The Whales Party Sheet