"Gentlemen, I thank you for the timely healing, but it might be best if you retreat back upstairs. I doubt you'll have trouble going out a second story window on the back of the building. I'll yell if I need you, Benjamin."
Themis didn't have to tell Ben and Rolly twice. As soon as the fighters outside were allowed back in the tavern, things would get bad. They ran to the second floor and were about to leave out a window, when Rolly saw the dozens of bottles of alcohol sitting in crates. "Let’s not leave all of this for those idiots. How much can you put in your magic courier ring? "
It turned out to be quite a bit. What he couldn't store in his ring, Rolly put into a couple of pillow cases and they went out the window, and down to the ground. A few people saw them, but no one stopped them.
They ran past the smokehouse and out through the corrals to the fields. Ben noticed that the fire in the pit was still putting up a huge plume of smoke and flames. He could hear screams coming from it. Not his pit, not his problem. Let Ozzy figure it out when he got back.
They finally stopped when they got to the underbrush by the river. Both collapsed onto the ground and grabbed a bottle.
Rolly drank down half a bottle of something alcoholic and then stared off across the meadow. "You think she's really dead?"
Ben was doing his best to resolve all the chaos in his head. "I just don't know. That message was pretty definite, but we won't know until Ozzy gets back. I think I'll just have a small breakdown, drink a bit and go into denial."
Rolly finished his bottle and started another. "Nope. Not me. I'll cry for a month later. I think Ozzy had the right idea. Let's start killing things."
Ben thought back to seeing Ozzy tear apart Brandon and Timmy. Not even Themis was going to stop him. He'd known Ozzy a long time. He'd seen him take abuse and keep smiling, never seeming to let things bother him. Some people assumed he just let it wash over him. Ben knew different. It all went somewhere deep, and every now and then it all came out.
"Lordy, that was something. I haven't seen him snap that way in years. I don't know whether I hope he's in control or not when he gets back."
Rolly tossed the second empty bottle into the sack. "Who says any of these assholes will still be left when he gets back?"
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Themis considered the events of the last few hours. The emperor wanted a report. This should have been simple: Observe two groups of fighters from rival corporations engage each other with a small village and an undeveloped mine as the prizes. Play referee and declare a winner.
Simple....and yet they hadn't even gotten to the start of the battle before the wheels fell off the wagon.
The beforehand maneuvering to cripple ACME's forces just stunk. But it had been effective, and so of course that would become part of every corporate war from here on out. The outcome was predictable.
If a corporation focused on building, they'd fall prey to one that focused on training an effective fighting force. If both sides had effective fighting forces, the winner would be the one who was most successful in sabotaging their opponent before the fighting starts. Stuck in the middle would be villagers and workers.
She was not going to give the process a glowing recommendation.
And siege engines? Where had those come from?
Brilliant use of them, but really? Six catapults and three scorpions to use in one engagement against an army of a couple of hundred? Just wasteful overkill. Those machines should be deployed guarding the southern passes to keep the Empire strong against the orcs and not wasted in some northern pissing contest. She needed to find out who had sold those things to ACME.
The engagement had been short at least. As expected, both sides were led by untrained people, sent by their corporations. The idiots had made mistakes even a rookie commander knew not to do. Deploying acid and fire together? What the hell were they thinking. But that was the point, they weren't trained and weren't thinking. They were play acting as soldiers and using magic they didn't understand. Both sides had paid a price for that, and the town had gotten off lucky.
But the icing on the cake was the final act in the tavern. Contract workers on the losing side attacked by a mob looking for beer and a barmaid. That could have gone much worse. The only losses were the idiots attacking up a stairwell.
It could have ended with an apology, but Brandon had pushed things. First with back-door deals where ACME sold out, (and sold off) their own people. Then a bit of taunting the poor girl, and unbelievably, a death from just the thought of having to work for those people. Just what had they done, and what was she afraid of? More mysteries.
And the final, horrible piece of stupidity: Hers.
She had thought of this mission as below her level. Tier one squabbles and nothing she couldn't handle. And she got careless around a Butcher. Centurion Marcus had told her the man was extremely strong for his level. She'd seen him and noted his size, heard some of the stories. She should have believed more of them. He'd moved too fast and caught her off guard, nearly killing Brandon. Then he'd surprised her again with raw power and brutality.
Themis knew she wasn't at peak STR for her tier, but she should be able to easily handle any Tier 1 warrior. At a STR of 20, no tier 1 Butcher in the world should be able to knock her around. But he had matched her STR, and her aura hadn't fazed him a bit. People shit themselves when she gave orders using that voice. Ozzy had simply torn off the paladin's arm. She'd been saved from further fighting by sheer luck when he was pulled out of this world.
That bothered her even more. Another mystery.
Time to swallow her pride. Inquisitors loved mysteries. And she had an Inquisitor close by. Time to put him to work. Meanwhile she had a report to write. No time for a courier to take this. She'd have to use a spell. An expensive spell. But she needed answers to some questions before tomorrow's meeting with Brandon and Vernon.
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Ferdinand, Lord of the Pasture and Biggest Bull in the Herd, went running across the meadow as he heard the mournful cry of one of his cows in distress. He doubled his speed when he recognized that sorrowful scream as belonging to Betty. He came upon the huge old cow at the side of one of the fields. She was running back and forth, trampling through bushes, uprooting small trees, calling to one of her calves.
She had birthed two fine calves just hours ago. One of those was trying to stay close to his momma and not get trampled by her large, mis-sharpened hooves. One was missing. She'd been grazing on sedge in a thicket just off the field. One of the calves had chased after something into a bush. That was the last that she'd seen of it. The ground was torn to bits where she had been tearing up the underbrush, looking for her calf. It was confusing, but Ferdinand thought he saw tracks of a two-legger. He would need help with this!
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
He needed the shepherd!
Several fields away, Rolly turned to Ben. "Shit! Shepherd business! Something bad has happened."
Rolly ran off, leaving a confused Ben to wonder what was up. But he had business of his own to be about. He hefted the two sacks of alcohol and wandered off in the direction of the keep.
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Falconer wandered into Sedgewick, noting the damage done to the town. He'd made a detour on his way, walking into the cornfield to take a look at what was left of the catapults. Not much but wooden beams, but those told him what had been here. Recent construction, heavy timbers. Machines you didn't move into place fast. Which said a lot about Brandon's scouts if they hadn't had a clue that these were set up in ambush.
You scouted the enemy. You ALWAYS scouted the enemy. Or you fell prey to nasty surprises. He shrugged. Bad scouts meant he could more easily do his work and have this pay off for him.
He soothed his bird as he entered town. Inquiring as to Brandon's where abouts, he was pointed to a slightly burned tavern. People got out of his way until he made it to the door. Two large fellows seemed to be playing gate warden. "No one goes in unless Brandon says so."
Falconer bowed. "How lucky for you two, that Brandon wants to see me. Tell him Falconer is here to solve his troubles."
A muffled exchange and the door was opened. Brandon was inside. He didn't look good. He was trying to drink a beer, leaning his head back and pouring the liquid in. His mouth looked very odd. "Falconerrr, whaddaya wan' , birdman?"
The paladin was sitting nearby, a cleric was working on his arm. No!...what used to be his arm. It had been taken off at the shoulder. There was a huge pool of blood on the floor, poorly cleaned up.
"I'm sorry Timmy, that's the best I can do. I can't regrow an arm. It should come back when you resurrect. The same for Brandon. His jaw is all healed wrong and the bones are fused to his skull. I can't fix it. He'll have to die and resurrect. That should fix his jaw, and his teeth should come back. Probably."
Timmy seemed pissed and tired. "Which I can't do or I'm out of the war! Screw this. I'm going down to the dungeon Brandon. I'm not going to run around the woods looking for six people. Here's your bounty hunter, let him do it!"
Timmy went downstairs followed by a dozen other people. Falconer turned to Brandon. "You have people you need dead, and I can hunt them down."
Brandon glared a him, but nodded. "Geh starta, kil some befo tomorurrow."
Falconer saluted. "I'll need a couple of your people to help flush them. Don't trouble yourself, I'll pick them out myself and get started. You'll have some fatalities tonite, guaranteed. Far too small an area to hide in."
Brandon waved his assent.
Falconer moved around the town, seeing how the guards and look-outs were set up. Not very professional, but then, no one was going to be attacking a town with dozens of defenders with just six fighters, no matter how fearless you were. The bulk of Brandon's forces were camped across the bridge, in a small meadow. A party atmosphere prevailed. He saw quite a few barrels of Bludgeon Dark were being consumed and they had a carcass rotating on a spit over an open flame. It smelled delicious and his bird was agitated by the scent.
He wandered over. "What are you cooking?"
The cook was rubbing the meat with some sort of spice. "The boys got a newborn calf from the herd of ugly cows. Those things are horrible to eat, but the veal is very tasty. It hasn't picked up the nasty flavor from the local plants. Should be ready in a few hours, so swing back by.
Falconer nodded. "I'll plan on it. Thanks."
He wandered around looking for who he needed. People were already pairing off in tents, and he saw one couple head off to the woods for some privacy. If players weren't fighting, they had a party. The Famco. leadership was a bit occupied at the moment to give many orders, and there was no real chain of command.
Finally, he found the people he was looking for. Two men and a woman were sitting around a small fire drinking beer. "Hello, how's the hand?" The woman stood up quickly and took a step back. "Keep that bird away from me. I had to do things left handed until I got killed the next day hunting in the forest." Her two companions also stood and formed up next to her. "We don't want any trouble."
Falconer smiled. "You misunderstand. I came to apologize. And I've got some good news. Brandon said you three were a cut above the rest. We have a special mission hunting down someone. It pays 5 gold each for a few hours of work. You in?"
One man smiled immediately. "Yeah, for 5 gold each, we're in for sure."
Falconer tossed them each a bag. "Let's get moving then. Before we have to go stealthy, I'll even tell you a little about my bird. Maybe you can get some for yourselves."
That sounded even better than the gold. The three eager players and Falconer headed out into the forested area, unaware that eyes were following their every move.
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It was party time in goblin town!
There was so much to drink that every goblin had at least one bottle in their hands. It wasn't the traditional Red Wizard that they knew and loved, but that was ok. What it lacked in quality it made up for in quantity. And variety. Some was blue, some was sticky, some of it fizzed and sparkled. The best burned all the way down your throat and made your legs wobbly.
Toast after toast was made to Courierben, great friend of the goblins. If their friend wasn't there to drink with them, that was fine, they toasted him anyway!
Everyone was happy except for the Chief. He sat and brooded on his throne; a tasty bottle of sticky red drink nearly forgotten next to him. Greatfriend Courierben had told him the sad secret. Evil Invaders had come into their town, and were about to defeat big chief ACME. When that happened Courierben would be moving far, far away and there would be no courier in town. The old ways would return.
The Chief had grown fond of the new ways. They found treasures in old places and used those to buy Red Wizard whiskey. No one raided their little town, and they didn't raid the farms and village. Now they would go back to the cycle of raid and be raided.
"Great Chief! Great Chief! A visitor approaches!" The guard had a bottle in his hand, but at least he wasn't so drunk that he hadn't seen someone coming through the front gate. What was this one doing here?
"Why do you come here and interrupt my tribes sacred religious festival? Are you friend or foe to my people?"
Fearless Leader offers a quest to the great Chief of the Manydrinks tribe of goblins.
Quest: Slay 3 Evil Invaders.
Reward: 3 bottles of Red Wizard Whiskey
Bonus Condition: The Evil Invaders leave the town of Sedgewick defeated.
Bonus Reward: 1 Barrel of the sacred Dark Brew of the Dungeon of Bludgeon
Accept: Y/N?
The chief accepted immediately. Raiding season started as soon as they ran out of bottles.
He stood on his throne: "New Toast! To the Great Fearless Leader and the downfall of the Evil Invaders".
It was a popular toast. All toasts and any reason to drink were popular.
=*=
The Bandit camp was nearly silent. Everyone was sitting around the camp fire and only one voice was heard. This was a special night. Not only had they all got to hear two of the latest chapters of the Perils of Pauline, but Benjamin the Courier had started telling them a new story about a poor lonely barmaid named Suzette. Some of the story was sad, so sad that Benjamin had tears in his eyes as he told it. He'd given them six whole chapters and was about to finish the seventh.
"And then the evil Lord Brandon told poor lonely Suzette that she'd be his slave forever and not see her friends again."
Ben paused.
The bandits became restless and finally, someone prodded the storyteller. "And? And what happened?"
Ben wiped his eyes. "And she was so sad that she laid down and died. The end."
"The end, that can't be the end. She just died?"
The bandit chief, Rodney, approached Ben. "That story is a bit unsatisfying. You sure there isn't some other ending?"
Ben looked up; more tears were running down his face. "Sorry, Rodney. I wish there was. She died this morning, and now evil Lord Brandon controls the town and I'll be on my way soon."
"Bloody Biscuits and Gravy! We'll see about that, won't we fellas?!"