Tortle Enclave.
"So after convincing the pygmy tribe that I was some vengeful god ready to unleash fiery destruction upon them. I told them to pour their sacred spicy bean stew into the mouth of the giant believing that it would quell my rage. After MANY years of surviving on nothing but moss and rainwater, the stew FINALLY gave the giant enough indigestion that eventually he shot be clear over the Ardent Sea!" Kesle said to the assembled group of halfling children that watched her tell her tale.
"'Ow did you survive?!" One of the quarterlings asked wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
"Which? The fall, or smelling like giant-"
"HAMISH!" Addie cried out as she ran towards her limping and battered husband with Stella in her arms and Feryl close behind.
He gave his wife a hug with his one good arm while he kissed the wee babi Stella and patted his boy on the head as he ruffled his hair. The rest of the women and children halflings were much the same as they ran towards the men that had fought bravely to defend them and their home.
The old tortle sage rose with a grunt and the creaking of bones and staff. She waddled over to the reunion of halflings with a kind smile.
"How fare you Children of Soil and Field?"
"We've been better. But! We managed ta drive back tha brigands yet again!" Hamish declared to cheers from the halflings.
Hamish turned and bowed his head to the tortles with a smile.
"I thank you fer lookin' after ours."
"Of course! All are welcome here!" Kesle proclaimed.
"Except thugs." One of the tortles said.
"Yes, except them."
"And sea urchins." Another added.
"Yes and sea urchins. They get between the shell something fierce."
"And sea snakes."
"Yes, those too. And-" The tortles continued to list off names of various creatures or things that they thought were either too threatening to them or inconvenient to be around.
Hamish looked at the tortles as they continued their listing.
"Should we wait until they're finished?"
"No. Ifin we do, we'll be 'ere forever!" Addie said hastily as the halfling women began to push their husbands and children away as the tortles continued regardless.
"But I want ta 'ear wha' 'appened after she got shot out o' tha giant's bum!" Feryl whined.
-----
Residence of Lord Myrle. (Formerly)
The gang leader burst through the door with a huff and a string of curses. He winced and cursed some more as he looked around for the brats.
"Boy?! Where are you?! I need-"
He didn't finish though as a fist blindsided him and connected with his jaw. He cursed some more as he rubbed his sore jaw and spat out a couple rotted teeth.
"Who the fu-"
A boot to his nose forced him to fall onto his back with a groan, and a few more coughed up teeth. He looked up and saw the three figures of Barnaby and his two henchmen.
"What the fuck?!"
Barnaby sauntered over and brought his cane down onto the gang leader's wounded knee.
"Where's the lord o' the estate? I would have words about compensation fer what he did ta mah merchandise."
"Sod your merchandise! Lord Myrle is dead!" The gang leader cursed as he held his bloody face.
Barnaby cocked a brow.
"Dead? How? And by whom?"
"As if you don't know! You armed them!"
Barnaby snorted and turned towards the kitchen where the boy and girl hid.
"Lad? Would you come here a moment?"
The boy crept out fearfully, tears streamed his red face. Barnaby patted the boy on the shoulder.
"You wouldn't happen ta know where the key ta yer da's safe would be? The one that holds the guns?"
The boy looked towards the fallen gang leader with fear in his eyes. Barnaby snapped his thick dwarven fingers to get his attention.
"Don't worry about him, lad. Do you know what I'm talkin' about?"
Eventually the boy nodded and Barnaby smiled.
"Would you be so kind as ta bring me one? A bullet or two as well?"
The boy nodded again before running off. The gang leader looked around for the rest of his gang. But only the vets that had survived and a handful of other expendables had followed him back here.
"Where's our boys?!"
"Oh, they work fer me now. Some extra muscle around the place always comes in handy. Most left o' their own volition. Some... had ta be convinced." Barnaby said as the boy returned with a shotgun and a handful of shells.
Barnaby smiled and took the shotgun and shells.
"Thank you lad."
He gave them to one of his men as Barnaby squatted beside the gang leader.
"See. I didn't arm anyone. I can barely arm myself with how tightfisted and keen-eyed mah kin at the trainyard are bein'.
Barnaby's goon nodded as he finished loading the shotgun and, with a gesture from Barnaby, shot the gang leader's foot off. He screamed and yelled for but a moment before Barnaby brought his cane down upon his already bloodied mouth.
"Shush! You'll frighten the neighbors with yer wailin'!"
The gang leader spat and choked on blood and rotted teeth as Barnaby stopped assaulting him and spoke.
"The humans o' this world. They're so inventive! Guns! Firearms! That's what they call the thundersticks. Unlike back home, they're EVERYWHERE here! If you had bothered ta find that out before, you might not look like chum right now."
"So no. I didn't arm... who was it "Lord" Myrle died ta?" Barnaby asked the bloodied gang leader.
"Halflin's." The girl nearby spoke up in a mousy and scared voice.
Barnaby turned and cocked a brow in surprise.
"Halflin's? Is that what you said girl?"
She nodded, as did her brother. Barnaby turned back towards the gang leader, who stayed silent. But he could see fear, anger, and humiliation in his eyes. Then Barnaby started to laugh.
"Yer tellin' me, that His Lordship Myrle died ta a bunch o' halflin's?!"
Barnaby and his goons laughed heartily. The gang leader spluttered.
"As head of his gang! I call-"
But he was silenced by another whack of Barnaby's cane. The dwarf didn't stop until all that was heard was barely a bloody gurgle from the man. He leaned down to the bloodied form.
"Here's the thing. The Thieves Guild served it's purpose when we were back in Daele and our world. But HERE? Well, we need ta make a few... changes. Startin' with the fact that there ISN'T a Thieves Guild anymore."
"But the Hombot-" One of the vets outside spoke up, but was quickly silenced by the shotgun being aimed at him.
"Are bein' dealt with. And with Lord Myrle recently passin'. It means that I am the sole head o' the Thieves Guild. Which I hereby disband. Things don't work as they used ta. Can't go 'round filtchin' everythin' not nailed down, and you certainly can't be rushin' off and makin' a scene out in the open. No, it's time fer things ta be a little more... discrete."
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Barnaby sauntered over to the gang vets.
"So, you can either operate how I tell you ta. Or-"
BANG!
The vets jumped as their former leader's head was blown apart by the shotgun.
"Not at all."
The vets all looked to one another, then back at Barnaby.
"What's the plan then... boss?"
Barnaby smiled.
"Good! Go see our boys runnin' the liquor and counterfetin' operations. They'll tell you what ta do, and be discrete about it."
The vets nodded as they got what was left of their gang and left to follow Barnaby's orders. One of his goons cleared his throat to get the dwarf's attention.
"What about them, boss?"
Barnaby cast a eye towards the children that still shook with fear and uncertainty in their eyes. He walked calmly over to them and looked down at them.
"I'm guessin' that yer parents aren't among the livin' anymore?"
The two children shook their heads as tears formed in their eyes. Barnaby nodded and looked around. Who knows what they've seen in this place, he thought. He reached into his coat pocket and produced a wad of dollar bills and pulled out a few 20s and threw them to the kids.
"Do with that what you will. Buy a hot meal, or stay here if that is yer wish."
Barnaby left the shocked children, and the dead body, but called over his shoulder as he and his men left the house.
"But if you wanna learn how ta survive, come find me!"
-----
Halfling Colony.
The ganger began to open his eyes as he awoke. But had to quickly close them again at the blinding light above him. He tried to cover his sight but found he was bound to a metal table.
"Wha- What's going on?!"
"Oh good, you're awake." Came a cold clipped voice.
The ganger looked fearfully at the voice and saw a woman with cold eyes who was surrounded by others. They all wore some kind of white suit and had a helmet on with some sort of clear substance that looked like glass covering their faces.
"Who are you?! What happened?!"
"Who I am is no concern of yours. What happened is also irrelevant. What is relevant is what is about to happen." The woman said as she walked towards the ganger as a metal table was wheeled over.
"I'm glad that I'll be able to properly experiment on subjects that aren't protected by my orders."
"What?! What experiments?!"
"That's what you are here to find out. I've yet to be able to dissect any of the diminutive hominids. They even refuse me their already deceased. So I've been unable to properly examine how different our biology is. Until you and your "gang" arrived. Providing me with excellent, albeit different, test subjects."
"Dissect?! What does that mea-" The ganger stopped in a cold sweat as the woman produced a rather large needle filled with a clear liquid.
"While testing your responses would be excellent. I can save that for the other gang subjects we acquired during the attack. For now I just need to see the internal structure." The doctor stated as she brought the needle closer to the ganger's neck even as he thrashed.
A couple of Dr. Zhu's assistants held down the ganger long enough for her to inject him with the sedative. Then she was handed a couple other needles with liquids in them that finally forced the young ganger's life to expire peacefully on the table.
She picked up a tape recorder and pressed a button.
"Dr. Allie Zhu. Experiment 0-0-2. Autopsy of otherworld human male. Subject age appears visibly to be late teens to early twenties. After removal of garments subject, along with others acquired recently, is moderately malnourished with bone structure obvious through the skin with signs of bruising of various stages along the cranial structure, chest cavity, lower thorax, across the back, groin, as well as along the arms and legs from recent conflict, though it is uncertain if it was before or during their assault upon the diminutive hominids, and scarring both old and new. Despite condition no apparent STI's observed. Hands are broken with signs of previously being so repeatedly before. Several malformed or partially healed bones appear along the legs and arms. Teeth are rotted, broken, or missing and signs of severe gum disease are apparent. End of out external observation. Beginning autopsy proper."
-----
The damage to the halfling colony wasn't near as bad as Clive and Hamish thought it was. Clive's initial observation that the gang was focusing on inflicting pain rather than outright killing was proven true by the fact that the halfling's casualties amounted to only eight! Most of those wounded would have scars, physical and mental, for years if not their whole lives obviously. A couple of the human workers also perished during the fighting. One was from his earlier wounds during the skirmish on the road. Another fell during the assault later on.
So ten had perished all together on their side, Clive thought as Kilpa tended his wounded back and side. The number was almost absurdly low. But most of it looked worse than it actually was. Even his own wounds looked worse than they actually were. Nothing major was hit or broken. Sure he would have scars there for the rest of his life, but considering the alternative, he was just glad to only have that and some serious bruising.
Same with most of the halflings, apparently having a good bit of fat between a blade or boot and their vital organs helped prevent most of their injuries from being fatal. Not that they simply walked them off though, but it let them survive what would normally mean death.
Kilpa helped change his bandages, she tried to hide that she was still pretty banged up. But Clive could see the way she slightly limped as she walked or winced when her arm rotated a certain way.
"You know you can take a break right?"
"Shush. I've been in more scrapes than any o' these midwives. I know 'ow ta patch up some nasty wounds myself." She said.
"Course it was better when Travis could just utter a prayer 'nd heal us right up. But we cannae do tha' now can we Travis, you dumb sod." Kilpa muttered with Clive only barely able to hear her.
Not that it was easy, given that the halflings were holding yet another feast. Clive wasn't sure what it was for exactly. Some said it was to honor the memory of the dead, others said it was victory over their hated enemy the elves since it was an elf that led the gang, others said it was because of victory over the gang itself, yet some said it was because some of the food and beer containers had broken and they needed to eat it or it would spoil and go to waste.
The funerals for the halflings weren't much different from humans. They were dug little barrows on a nearby hill, where loved ones and friends spoke parting words and deeds, then some offerings of ale, food, tobacco, and other mementos like favorite fishing rods or dinner plates were left behind as the halflings said a prayer for the Harvest Mother to welcome them into her arms and let them into her domain of bountiful food and oceans of ale. Some of the prayers got rather dirty depending on how sloshed the prayer speaker was. Replacing arms with ample bosom and domain for... well you get the idea.
After that they came back down and began the feasting. For some they were drowning their sorrows and dulling their injuries, others were celebrating being alive. But all were eating their weight and then some in food and booze. The humans were no exception. They had hauled the two that had died into the back of a truck and drove to town to settle things like burial and informing their next of kin if they could as well as dropping off the more severely injured at the hospital. In the mean time, those that remained were joining the halflings in doing the same thing for the same reasons.
Even Clive had to admit that the booze helped ease his pain a bit, along with a certain halfling rogue taking the chance now and again to wrap her arms around him and hold him close as she kissed his wounds and bruises. Perhaps it wasn't healthy to be getting so lovey so soon after they more or less made up not long ago. But at that moment, Clive didn't care. He was glad to be alive, and he was glad to be in the arms of someone he cared for and who obviously cared for him.
Not that Carrie didn't try to fill that hole soon after she returned with the women. Hell, she practically threw herself into Clive's arms! Exclaiming how much she missed him and had wanted to treat his wounds and this and that. But thanks to the intervention of her husband, she was dragged away to "celebrate" his survival during the fighting.
Clive and Kilpa were broken from enjoying one another's soft attentions as reps of the Big Families walked, while Fallmeadow was wheeled, to the stage that was set up for halflings to sing their ballads and play their instruments during the festivities. Despite their best efforts, his sons weren't able to get him elevated enough to actually be ON stage, but with a bang of a pint against a pan he got everyone's attention.
"Good folk 'nd *hack cough* 'onored guests! I would like ta *hack hack* on behalf o' our fair *cough fart* colony, thank tha humans fer their *cough wheeze* aid in drivin' back those rascals!"
The halflings cheered and raised their mugs of ale and food. Fallmeadow continued after it had died down.
"We smallfolk 'ave ne'er *hack hack* 'ad many a friends! In our world er *cough cough spit* this one. But thanks ta Clive 'ere! We 'ave made many! Some tha' 'ave *hack fart* fought, bled, 'nd e'en died fer us!"
The halflings cheered and raised their mugs and food once again. Some even wept and smiled.
"So I *fart* declare! Tha' Clive 'nd all those tha' stood with us, be *hack cough* 'onored as True Halflin' Friends! May they *cough cough* 'nd their kin always be welcome *hack spit* beside our 'earths 'nd at our tables!"
Cheers and claps rang out as halflings came over to Clive and the other humans and shook hands and offered congratulations. The reps of the Big Families smiled and cheered as well as they nodded and bowed their heads towards the humans. They began to leave to join the festivities, but Fallmeadow continued.
"I would also like ta thank *cough cough fart* Clive! Fer tha 'ot'ouse tha' provides us with food! Ta *hack hack* goin' with Hamish 'nd gettin' us bountiful livestock! Fer showin' us *cough hack* ta our new 'ome 'nd fer aidin' us time 'nd *hack cough* time again! Fer showin' more braver 'nd 'onor than... e'en myself."
Fallmeadow went silent for a moment and Clive could swear he him cry. But just as quickly as it was there, it was gone and was replaced with the same jovial smile.
"So! I *cough cough* nominate Clive fer Mayor o' our colony! May 'is wisdom 'nd *hack hack* courage lead our people ta not only survive but thri- *hack hack cough cough* -ive in our new 'ome!"
Clive just stared at Fallmeadow as the halflings cheered so loudly that it made his ears ring. Many came over and patted him on the, still wounded, back and shook his hands more fiercely than before. He turned around and looked at Kilpa, who just shrugged as best she could and looked just as confused and surprised as he was.
Hamish limped over and patted Clive on the knee with his one good arm.
"Hamish? What happened? What's going on exactly?"
"Well, yer officially tha mayor o' our lil colony now! Tha's wha' 'appened!" Hamish said as the cheers died down after a minute. Even if the celebration itself continued at a higher pitch of jubilation.
"But how?! I didn't do anything!"
"O' course you did! It's as Fallmeadow 'imself said! You've done much fer us, 'nd it's time we repaid you fer it. Besides, he's right. Wha' you've done 'elped us when we needed it most. I could think o' no-one better ta be mayor than you!" Hamish declared.
"'Nd they're all sayin' it were you tha' killed tha elven lord." Kilpa mentioned.
"But I didn't! The damn ram did!" Clive said.
"Really? So you didn't shout 'im ta death with yer voice? Er looked at 'im so 'ard tha' he exploded?" Kilpa asked teasingly.
"But, isn't there another mayor already?" Clive asked more than a little overwhelmed.
"Technically, Fallmeadow was. 'As been since he retired from leadin' tha country 'nd settled down in our town."
"But, shouldn't there be a vote? Or something? I can't just be made mayor can I?"
"Tha vote is just a formality. Yer mayor 'nd no-one worth a copper penny would say otherwise!" Hamish said.
"I can think o' a few tha' would." Kilpa whispered to Clive and pointed towards where the Big Families' reps were, and from the looks of it they were getting pretty heated with Fallmeadow about something, but the content look on his face said he didn't care in the slightest.
He met Clive's eyes and nodded with a sincere smile before he was wheeled off by his kids, with the Big Families' reps not far behind. Clive made to follow him to find out what this was all about, but his wounds and the throng of congratulatory halflings prevented him from doing so. All he could do was sit there and watch Fallmeadow get wheeled away.
Hamish watched Clive as he sat there dumbfounded at what had happened. He wasn't that surprised though, and was even a bit hopeful. Sure Clive will probably have to reign in some of his more curious ideas if the halflings were going to listen to him. But with things like the construction crew and their machines, as well as the hothouse, and getting the humans to go to battle for their sake, even if it was foolish to do it on their own. He had little doubt that he'll be good to lead the colony.
He was a little sad that this meant that Fallmeadow was officially retiring, but also not a surprise. He was getting up in the years, and weight. Even for a halfling. It would be good for him to take it easy and enjoy what he had left with those he loved without worrying about things now that Clive could take over.
His bandaged arm was tapped and Hamish turned to glare at one of the hothouse halflings.
"Ow! Damn it all wha' is it?!"
"Sorry! It's just... well, you better come 'nd see fer yerself." The hothouse halfling said as he gestured for Hamish to follow.
Hamish looked back at Clive, who looked like a fish out of water. He chuckled before limping after the other halfling. They passed the colony that was already being rebuilt. Tents were easy to destroy but just as easy to replace and remake. The bodies of the gangers were disposed of, split between being burned on a pyre and being fed to the pigs. As long as they were gone and not stinking up the place the halflings didn't care. They certainly weren't going to give a bunch of hoods a proper burial! Especially what was left of the elf! What was left of him was being paraded around like a grim and grisly trophy, after they had their fun he would be dumped into the sty for the hogs.
As they neared the hothouse he could see several halflings riding back on ponies with herds of sheep and cows in tow. Herding hounds barking and yipping to keep them from straying from their herds. In the lead was the ram that was actually responsible for killing the elven lord. Head held high as he kept a watchful eye on his flock of ewes.
Not that Hamish would be the one to let it be known that it was a sheep that did it. Not that it'd do much good if he did, Hamish thought. Halflings love a good tale, and what better one than Clive the Slayer of Elves and Giants! Not that he slayed either, but that wasn't very entertaining now was it?
The two stopped outside of the hothouse. Hamish sighed as he was expecting the worse. They haven't gotten to all the dead gangers just yet. They were focusing on the bodies near the center of the colony and were spreading outwards.
"'Ow bad is it?"
"Well... see fer yerself." The halfling said and opened the bottom door.
Hamish closed his eyes and took a deep breath before cracking open one, and saw something amazing! All the plants were vibrant and healthy! Like weeks had gone by since they last checked them and they were now plump and delicious looking! Like they were ready to be plucked right this second!
"Wha'?! But 'ow?! 'Nd where's all tha bodies?!"
"Turns out tha' there aren't any."
"Wha' you mean there aren't any?! I saw some o' those hoods make fer this place, chasein' after some folk!"
"Aye, they did. But-" The halfling stopped and was hesitant to keep speaking.
"Out with it lad! But wha'?!"
"But... accordin' ta tha folk tha' done hid in 'ere. Tha hoods DID break through. But they was attacked. By tha garden."
"Tha garden?" Hamish asked with a skeptical brow.
"Aye! Tha's wha' they said! Tha garden came alive 'nd attacked tha hoods! Killin' 'em 'nd buryin' 'em in pottin' soil!"
Hamish cast a eye to the shrub figure of Henry. Still holding the same grimace of his last moments alive. He returned his gaze to the halfling.
"Listen close. Tha garden didnae come alive."
"But they said-"
"It were nothin' more than panic 'nd excitement. Tha last thin' we need is folk sayin' tha' our garden is comin' alive 'nd killin' folk... e'en ifin they were thugs!"
"But-"
Hamish shushed the halfling and glared at him pointedly. The halfling nodded before returning to the festivities. Hamish turned towards Shrubry.
"Well, a fine mess you've made, aye Henry?! Wasn't enough ta turn yerself inta a shrub, now you got people scared out their gourds thinkin' tha garden is alive!"
Hamish threw his good arm up in annoyance and left the hothouse be, even as the leaves of Shrubry moved and the cracks of bone could be heard from within the planters and pots that held the remains of the thugs that dared assault his home and kin.