“But the night is dark, the air possessed of an unpleasant chill, and the road home is long and lonely. I invite you to stay, to mend one more thing that the passing of time could not. My bed has room to spare for another warm body, if you would join me.”
“I have a tool for every purpose you need of me. For your fences, my hammer and saw brought them into suitable repair to keep your livestock penned. For your gate, my wrenches and files brought it into alignment so that it would shut smoothly. And for your broken heart, I have yet another tool to mend it as well.”
Brongam then pulled Genthel close, his arms enclosed around her as his final ‘tool’, firm and ready for use, pressed against her. Her heart too would find itself mended, and Brognam, a master when using his tools, knew just how to employ his craft. His smile widened, the light of the fire reflecting on his sharp teeth that were mere inches away from the naked flesh of her neck. He held her tighter as he pulled her to…
“To arms! Monsters approach!”
“Fuck, just when I got to the good part!”
I quickly closed my book and anchored it securely to the inside of my shield as I started shouting orders. It was inspiring to know that the lookouts took their job seriously, for to be blindsided when attackers had no cover for their approach would be a stain on the honor of the Crossing Guard that would never be removed.
“Wheel left, shieldwall! Sergeants, take command of your lines! Reposition on the Emperor, let no harm come to him!”
We hustled, just like we had trained, to reposition such that we were no longer to the rear and sides of the Emperor, but rather in formation on his left flank and facing the oncoming monsters. 80 of us stood in the shieldwall, with another 20 in reserve and to catch anything that slipped past us.
Big E just sat there at the table with his guests, not even a look of concern lighting on his face while the good men and women of the Crossing Guard put their lives on the line to defend him. Undoubtedly, he could kill all the monsters by himself, or the million skeletons could pitch in and win this handedly, but I understood his position. To render aid to us was to admit that we were insufficient to protect him, which would ultimately reflect poorly on him and make him appear weak or incapable of securing strong allies and underlings. For a dragon, such a weakness could invite challengers, and there were already enough matters on his plate to attend to.
“You took the Emperor’s coin, now it's time to earn it. Let’s send these bastards back to whatever pit they crawled out of.”
A resounding cry met my ears, a mixture of cheering and enthusiasm. Though the enemy remained daunting, they would serve as an ample whetstone to sharpen our new Skills and test our limits as both individuals and as a newly formed team. We had shiny new toys that we had only ever used in sparring, and each of us itched to test them in a real fight. Though sudden and unpredicted, a real fight had found us much sooner than anticipated. Morale was high, and we were more than up to the challenge.
Flares were launched, hundred of them, to litter the area and provide illumination, for night had fallen. Though the stars shone brightly, little other natural light offered any visibility, for the two moons were on the other side of the planet at this hour. And illuminate the enemy our flares sure did. Dozens of them, monstrosities of flesh, a wall of fangs, claws, horns, tentacles, and fury descended upon us.
While I am not an expert on monsters, for they are myriad in form and origin, these were clearly [Chimeras]. No two looked alike, but all were a hodgepodge collection of parts from various animals and beasts. Though some appeared whimsical and impractical, all were focused on a single task; they wanted to feast upon our flesh and were not squeamish about how they went about it.
We have no standard, nor an aquilifer to hold it high. Likewise, we have no true banners, just mundane ones that serve as a symbol to rally behind. Each of us could call upon our own Blessings, and so we could employ a versatile range of Abilities in both capacity and power. Such abundance can become unwieldy for the best of commanders, and I fully admit that I am not the best. Only months ago, I was a captain in the Pillars of Strife, and I had fewer men under my command. Now, 99 others look to me for leadership, and I pray that they do not find me lacking.
“First rank, fire!” I roared, my voice somehow carrying over the rumble of limbs thudding into the earth and the shrieks and bellows of the various beastial parts of these monsters.
The full gamut of our Abilities that could hit at range sallied forth. Great plumes of fire engulfed huge swathes of the monstrous horde, while lances of ice pierced flesh and broke bone. Sprays of acid sent the enemy to rampage blindly while skin melted, and spikes of earth erupted in their path to impale the unwary. Vines wrapped around unfortunate limbs, their thorns delivering pain and the promise of a slow death via poisonous payloads. Ethereal blades, as if wielded by invisible warriors, cut through the enemy with impeccable skill. A menagerie of beasts fell to the myriad of Skills we could each bring to bear.
Yet despite their losses, the monsters did not lose heart, and soon, they closed into melee. Front and center, I angled my shield to block the attack of… whatever it is. Goose necks and heads for legs, attached to a scorpion-like body with bear heads for pincers and praying mantis arms for its tail, it somehow managed to evade the salvo we had launched its way, only for it to crash into me. Big as a bull and twice as angry as any I had ever seen in the great herds of my people, the collision slid me backwards a good eight feet before I halted its advance. Fortunately, those behind me braced instead of falling on their asses, for such a blunder could prove deadly in a fight. No one wants to be trampled to death by friends and allies alike. Well, I know people who enjoy being trampled, but not to this extreme nor in this context.
While my sword was nice and all, they were the weapons of choice for duels and small skirmishes. In the shieldwall or in the battlefield, spears and other polearms tend to be king. However, I always preferred the axe. Specifically, I use a labrys, one of such size and weight that a puny human would need two hands to wield it. Being strong, even for an orc, and a [Shield-Maiden] besides, I naturally needed a shield to go with it, but it did not stop me from using it in one hand. If anything, the weight of my shield offered a great anchor to balance myself, for my swings were mighty and the effects of it far-reaching.
My first blow came down on the bear's head on its left side. I felt much more inclined to leave the other one alone for now, for it would find my shield to be an impassable bulwark while I dismembered its brother. Straight into the ash went the head of my axe, for I had underestimated how well it could cleave through flesh and bone. The bear’s head, now severed from its mortal coil, fell to the ground and rolled, where a goose’s neck tripped upon it, causing the monster to stumble.
The remaining head roared in pain and anger, and it rammed into my shield impotently. I readied a reply to the head of the bear, the head of my axe being the candidate to distribute reprisal liberally, but instead I had to [Interpose] myself to my ally on my left who had been on the receiving end of a ball of spider heads, complete with their poisonous mandibles and beady eyes.
I was no true [Commander]. I had no Skills to allow me to see the battlefield as a whole, to issue orders from a distance or to form cunning tactics to outmaneuver my foes. I led from the front, trusting the men and women by my side to do their best. But I did know how to protect the person to my left and right, for that is where the [Shield-Maiden] excels. The spider-ball monster, more like a tumbleweed of hate and hunger than any true creature, found itself sent flying as my shield bashed into it, and several heads looked down for the count due to the violent nature of our exchange.
My previous dance partner took offense to how I failed to show it the proper level of attention, and indignant honks signaled another attack coming my way. The bear head lunged with a deceptive degree of length, the arm supporting it stretching unnaturally far. It circled around my right arm to bite me in the shoulder, but it failed to account for the good men and women in the two ranks behind me and the spears they wielded. Skewered thrice over, the bear head found itself soon pinned to the ground, the light fading from its eyes as death scooped the bear into a cold embrace.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The rest of the scorpion-goose-bear-mantis seemed more lively than I cared for, and it brought its tail to the forefront of our exchange while I found myself still trying to recover from my maneuver to save my ally. The tail shot straight towards me, and the arms of the mantis unfolded with lethal intent and lighting speed. My shield, ever trustworthy, blocked it perfectly, for certain definitions of perfection.
Though I remained unharmed, it held my shield firmly in its grasp, and with me firmly clinging to my shield, I found myself yanked off my feet and upwards as the monster’s tail retracted. My armor proved sufficient in the coming moments, at least to protect me from grasping claws and hungry maws as it lowered me to the host of monsters behind it. Never releasing my shield, I flailed my axe at anything hungry or curious enough to dare approach. Though scores found purchase upon my armor, none managed to penetrate, which I consider fortunate.
What I consider unfortunate is the dismay and irritation of my captor, who proceeded to whip me about and slam me into the earth repeatedly. The armor remained pristine, but my body bouncing around inside of it experienced a different outcome. Battered and bruised, I found myself relieved from the burden of command or finding my way out of my current situation, for a spear to the tail by virtue of my allies coming to my aid had seen the life of the mantis portion of the monster extinguished, its grip slackened, and my body sailing towards the heavens.
Despite all the enchantments on my equipment, none dared to defy gravity, and with my own Blessing providing no remedy other than the conventional response to such a situation, I quickly fell back to earth, deep in the ranks of the misjudged dozens of monsters. There were at least… many dozens, for it is hard to count when spinning wildly.
Hungry monsters grasped at my falling form, and although I scarcely have any fat on my frame, my ample muscle and thick armor provide a great deal of weight to amplify the kinetic force of my momentum. Something ‘crunchy’, as I believe it to be, given the crunching sound of its body breaking beneath me as I fell to earth, let out a horrible shriek before falling silent. However, its nearby kin held no hesitation to seize the opportunity presented by its misfortune. Bastards didn’t even let me properly stand up before they were upon me.
Shield and axe swinging, I roared in challenge as I let loose my fury. Though it hungered for my surrender, I did not let the [Bloodlust] so common to my kind consume me. My rage was natural, my fury vindicated by the harsh onslaught of my foes, but my body found itself bolstered by my own Skills and unwavering refusal to lay down and die. No supernatural ‘gifts’ for me, let Grel’la’kel shut the doors of its great halls to me before I fall prey to Dundlegrak and his promise of power.
Battered, slightly dazed, my vision blurry as blood, ichor, and gore swallowed me in a tidal wave of fifth and carnage, I stuck to my training and kept moving. Always repositioning, always readying a block and counter-attack, I stayed as mobile as one could in the heat of battle and when so confined by the press of the swarm against me. I could hear the call of my allies, and if one is to be believed, the guidance of my ancestors as they sang to me the battle-song of my people.
Swing low. Step back. Shield Up. Turn and push. Instinct meshed with training, my own experience found itself melded with the wisdom of the ancients as I fought not for the Emperor, not for the Crossing Guard, but for one more breath of air in my lungs to give me energy, one more beat of my heart to send my blood thundering through my veins for the strength I needed to press on, one more second to live my life on the knife’s edge.
My axe swung, and heads rolled. My shield smashed into flesh, and flesh found itself wanting in such a contest. The struggle to survive became freedom, and in freedom, I found the strength to keep fighting until I met my bitter end. Sprays of acid found their caustic natures rendered impotent upon my armor, streaks of lightning were rendered as little more than static in the background of my fight, gouts of flame were but the warmth of torch on a dark night, and fang and claw were no more than the tingling crescendo of rain from a passing storm.
I felt on top of the world, invincible, for this armor was beyond comparison. My shield remained unblemished, the gore upon it sliding off as if magically cleaned of grime. My axe found no limb it could not vanquish, no foe it could not… okay, axe is gone now. My sword found no limb it could not vanquish, no foe it could not strike down as I purchased each inch back to my own lines with my very sweat and blood. Though my wounds mounted, mostly from things smashing into me, I had received worse from lovers who were too timid for my taste when it came to mixing pain with pleasure.
I was close now, only a few steps away from the wedge of troops that fought their way to me, only for my world to be ripped out from under me as something big latched on from behind and pulled me back. A maw like no other held me, one with teeth in every direction and all down its massive gullet. Some kind of large worm, it slammed its body to the ground, and me with it, as its teeth rent and tore at my armor, their sharp and indifferent ministrations to my armor stressing the limits of what power remained for the enchantments. Dark as night inside its body, save for what utility enchantments I had to illuminate my situation, I found my sword slip from my grasp. However, it needed no wielder to deliver its bite, for where it struck flesh via the propulsion of gravity and a thrashing worm, it cut without reservation.
Instead of trying to flee out the monster’s mouth, I pushed myself deeper, my sacred quest to be the retrieval of my sword, and with it, a way out of here. “When life doesn’t give you enough orifices to escape a creature’s innards, make your own”, as Dad used to say. Oddly specific advice, and perhaps he spoke from experience.
Tricky business trying to fetch a sword inside of a creature that constantly recoils in pain from the wounds inflicted by said sword. It was as if some mad devil had constructed a bounce house full of teeth and acid and threw the whole affair off a cliff with me inside. Twice I almost grabbed it, only to have to dodge or block as the business end spun my way. I would never live it down if I found myself impaled by my own sword, if I lived at all to tell the tale.
Let go of your shield. Trust yourself. The words offered guidance, and some [Shield-Maidens] may find it heretical, but I did as the voices guided and let go of that which had brought me so far but yet held me back. So unencumbered by mortal concerns and a big as fuck shield, I soon found the sword in my grasp. With a force of will and the use of my Blessing, I summoned my shield back to me, and it obeyed as the supernatural power that Blessings offered sent it soaring to my awaiting hand.
Now armed and somewhat steady while also closer to the part of its body near the ground, I sunk my blade into putrid flesh and wrenched it around, ripping and tearing my way free from the flesh-prison of the worm, which in hindsight, sounds like a great name for a band’s album.
Sweet, fresh, rejuvenating air filled my lungs as I drew my first breath of freedom. The battle still raged, its participants largely indifferent and ignorant of my recent trials and tribulations, not to mention my victories worthy of a triumph held in my honor.
Invigorated by my recent victory, or perhaps someone’s aura now that it is not blocked by a worm’s body, I hacked a path back to my lines once more. The monsters were largely defeated, but they remained undaunted in their purpose to feast and murder. Blade swinging, I continued moving, for without a shieldwall of allies, mobility remained my best defense.
My allies also worked to rescue me, their commander. I locked eyes for a moment, the small gaps in our visors providing just enough visibility for our heightened senses to perceive such fine details in the chaos. That look of sudden fear and surprise was my first clue that something was amiss.
I tried to turn to face whatever nightmare had come for me, but I was too late. Fang and fury found purchase upon me, a great maw gripping me by my waist and shaking me like a ragdoll. The beast’s jaws clenched down, and my armor strained as bones fractured. A second head, presumably of the same beast, this one seemingly canine in nature, fought over the prize that is my body, and the two heads tugged upon my broken body as muscles tore and bones shattered.
Seconds passed in the span of an eternity before I realized I was on the ground, broken, but still alive, if the crippling pain coursing through my body were any indication. I struggled not to drown in my own blood as I gasped for air, my lungs barely functioning due to torn shards of my armor embedded within them. Tears of impotent rage coursed down my face, my frustration mounting, for I could not take one more of the bastards with me before death claimed me.
My vision faded in and out as silence embraced me. Perhaps I had gone deaf, or perhaps the battle was over, I knew not which. Time had lost meaning, my only concern being to face my death with dignity. Perhaps a nap first would be fine, for fatigue had finally come to collect on the debt incurred by my recent struggles.
And apparently, one other had come for me. Standing over me was Big E himself, his expression showing concern but his motions calm and calculated. He raked his thumb over one of his canines, and with blood welling upon the wound so self-inflicted upon him, he brought that sanguine offering to my lips, now exposed due to my helmet being lost somewhere along the way.
Fire burned through my blood as power and pain vied for domination in my battered form. Serene rage and somber defiance walked beside me, their presence somehow pleasantly familiar despite how I have never felt them before. And then, nothing but darkness. Darkness and The Void.