Ingolf pulled the Beast Rod out and held it to his mouth. He looked at the Barghest, having made doubly sure that when he was reinforcing the restraints that there was no way for the Beast to break its bindings. It was still sporting injuries to the legs, torso, as well as its legs. The Beast’s face also bore evidence of Brynhild’s attack, with a few ghastly teeth having been smashed and broken off. There was dry blood around the area with the missing teeth, and said area was swollen as well. The Barghest seemed to understand that it wasn’t in a favourable position, and didn’t try kick up a fuss or cause any further trouble. Its head slowly moved as its glowing eyes looked around, assessing the situation, and displaying a level of intelligence that caught many by surprise. It saw the corpses of its underlings and let out a weird snorting sound that caused a few people to jerk in shock. In the passing moments, more and more of the Demon Tooth Mercenaries had gathered to watch. Ingolf watched in silence, patiently waiting for the Beast to conclude its assessment of the current situation. As the injured members of the Demon Tooth received their portion of the healing potion, they would head over to where Ingolf and the Barghest were. It didn’t take all that long for a crowd to gather, and the Barghest snorted a bit before looking at Ingolf once more.
“Why am I still alive, Human Thief?” The Beast said, its barks not threatening in any way.
“You’re still alive for a few reasons, but for now, you're here to answer a few more questions.”
“I already answered you before the fight, Human.”
“You're right… but I have more questions, and you are in no position to remain silent.” Ingolf said with some thinly veiled menace in his voice.
The Barghest looked at Ingolf for a few moments. This human was in terrible physical condition. He was emaciated with gaunt cheeks, bags under his eyes, and had fresh blood stains on his robes that indicated he had been injured during the skirmish. Yet despite all that, the menace in both his eyes and his voice had the desired effect on the Barghest, who felt as though things would get a lot worse than they already were if he tested this person’s patience.
“Ask your questions…” The Barghest said, its ears almost instinctively lowering.
“If your King is asleep, who ordered you and yours to kill us?”
“The remaining Guardians.” The Barghest answered simply.
“Alright, and who exactly are these Guardians?” Ingolf quizzed.
“Well…”
The question and answer session went on for some time, with the ever-growing crowd not understanding even a single bark or yip that was exchanged between Ingolf and the Barghest. At some point during the conversation, Brynhild had appeared, joining Thorvald and the others, who gave he a knowing look and smiled.
“Well, look who’s decided to join us!” Henrik quipped from below. He was squatting with both elbows on his knees, as well as his face in his hands. “Rest in peace to whoever had to give you that damn potion.” He said with a chuckle.
The others chuckled as well, and Brynhild just shook her head dismissively.
“So who gave it to you?” Thorvald asked.
“Some old woman.” Brynhild said with a shrug.
“Wait, seriously?” Ola asked. “That frail looking old woman actually overcame the Blessing and made you drink?”
“No, and yes.” Brynhild said while being surprisingly vague.
“Huh?”
“That slave… he appeared out of nowhere and a few moments later, I was practically out cold.” Brynhild said with a shrug.
There was a moment of silence between them, which was filled by the sound of barking and growling. The Barghest had almost immediately noticed Brynhild’s emergence, and began exhibiting aggressive behavior, but was almost as quickly warned against trying anything by Ingolf. A few moments later, Thorvald shook his head as he sighed somewhat.
“…that slave, he really isn’t a slave, is he?” He asked.
“Not at all.” Henrik replied, shaking his own head. “He attacked Brynhild, yet instead of disciplining him or having him disciplined, we’re all standing here, listening to the Boss bark.”
There was some laughter and a few glances shared between them all, before Brynhild looked at the ground somewhat awkwardly.
“So, Brynnie…” Henrik said as he stood up. “Tell us how it happened.”
“How what happened?” Brynhild said as she looked at Henrik.
“How that slave dude kicked your ass. I know you were Frenzied at the time, but surely you remember what happened.”
“Ugh…” Brynhild snorted as she looked up into the sky. “Well…”
While the entire leadership of the Demon Tooth was engaged in conversation, behind their carriage stood the tall, nameless slave and the much older, female slave. The Old Woman was virtually cowering before the Tall Slave, while he looked down at her with a scowl so intense, it could almost be felt. To the Old Woman, his eyes were glowing, and the tentacle things that had invaded her face from before could be seen slithering and squirming from his eyes, as if they were alive. She swallowed a lump in her throat and attempted to gather herself, but failed, and as if she had two of the largest, heaviest hands pushing down on her shoulders, she found herself falling to her knees before the slave, unable to offer any resistance. A third imaginary hand suddenly started pushing the back of her head down, until she had bowed her head completely. She could neither fight, nor explain it all, but she was compelled to bow before this man. The two of them remained like this for a while longer, before he spoke.
“…you understand me when I speak, don’t you?” He said in a deep voice.
The old slave was completely surprised. The Tall Slave had caught on, and she had no idea how or why. She didn’t dare look up however, and simply nodded, confirming that she did.
“I’m surprised you admitted it…” He said with a snort. “I see you, Old Woman. You cannot deceive me like you do the others.”
The Tall Slave started walking towards the woman, stopping when he was directly in front of her.
“Can you speak my language?” He asked.
“No, I cannot.” The Old Woman responded. “However, I’ve learned a few tricks over the years…”
The Old Woman, who was still kneeling and bowing before the Tall Slave, started chanting something in the faintest of voices, as if she was trying to hide it from the slave standing so close that he could literally kick her head off. As she chanted, a large number of letters from different alphabets appeared and began swirling around both her head, and the Tall Slave’s head.
“What is this?” He enquired, watching the letters he didn’t recognise swirling around his head.
It was a rather quick process, with the letters glowing brightly, before suddenly disappearing. There was little flair, and little fanfare to the entire thing, and it was over just as quickly as it started. The Tall Slave was suspicious however, and just as he was about to enquire about what had happened again, the Old Woman spoke.
“Can you understand me?” She asked hesitantly, as she tried to look up, but was still compelled to continue looking at the floor.
“What sort of witchcraft is this?” The slave asked, seemingly confirming that he could understand her.
“No witchcraft has been used… I once worked as a Translator on a different Continent. I just extended the technique to allow you to use it as well.” The woman said.
“I see.” The Slave then seemed to relax somewhat, before speaking again. “We are currently under siege by the creatures that call this place home, and it has to do with that strange deer.”
The Old Woman looked up towards the Tall Slave with a somewhat confused expression, which prompted him to elaborate.
“I am trying to confirm my understanding of the current situation as accurate, Old Woman. Is my grasp of the situation correct?”
“I… I think so.” The Old Woman responded. “All the strange barking coming from behind you is actually the leader of the Demon Tooth Mercenaries communicating with that Barghest.”
“Who?”
“The Mage. The thin man with the staff.”
“You mean that pale, emaciated man is the leader of the other pale ones?”
“Yes, that is correct…” The woman confirmed.
“I would have thought that it would have been the Brute.”
The Slave then chuckled to himself, before turning around and starting to walk. He stopped after a few steps and looked back, causing the older slave to jerk slightly.
“Let’s go. I wish to be present when the emaciated one elaborates on the conversation with the Beast, and I need you to translate.”
“What do mean?” The older slave asked. “I extended my technique to you. You don’t need me to translate.”
“Correct, however it’s better for you if they think that I do. That way, you might survive after whatever you’re planning comes to light.”
“Excuse me?”
“I saw what you did earlier… the cuts were small, but I saw them.”
“…”
The Old Woman was silent as she looked at the Tall Slave; her eyes doing their best to hide the fear that was in them.
“Do not worry… as a reward for your honesty, I won’t tell anybody about it. If we make them think that the only way to communicate with me is through you, it will raise your value and possibly save you down the line.”
“…you make it sound as if you are important enough that it will affect how I’m viewed within this camp. You are but a slave, no different from me or the rest of them.”
The older slave was displaying a more abrasive side now, considering how she had been a lot more subservient in her approach with the Tall Slave. This was something she would learn was a mistake, as she suddenly heard footsteps thundering towards her, and before she could react, a cold, wet, mud covered foot was on her neck, and pressed her down onto the ground forcefully. Both of her hands quickly grasped onto the shin of the foot in question and tried to push the foot off, but failed horribly. In fact, it seemed as though the harder she tried to push it off, the more pressure was applied. She thrashed and flailed about with more vigour than anybody her age had any right to, yet it had no effect. She had her eyes closed, yet suddenly felt them being pried open forcefully, and felt the invasive tentacles from before forcing their way into her eyes and into her mind once more. The process was a lot more painful this time, and she could not will herself to close her eyes or look away. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out from her parted lips – either that, or she just couldn’t hear it. The Tall Slave’s eyes were transfixed on hers, glowing with a golden light. It was bright, almost blindingly so.
“I am no slave, Old Woman. You would do well to remember that, and address me with respect.”
The older slave heard this from within her head. The Tall Slave’s voice seemed to bounce around in her skull, and not in a good way. As this was happening, the foot on her neck became heavier and heavier, which meant oxygen was now coming at a premium. What was surprising however was that despite being choked out by the large foot on her neck, the Old Slave wasn’t necessarily slowing down or weakening as she continued to flail about. This definitely didn’t go unnoticed, and after a few more seconds of torment, the Tall Slave raised his foot off of her neck and took a step back. As he did that, whatever it was that had forced its way into the woman’s eyes and head slipped out, and it felt like her head was hers once more. She started hacking and coughing, while taking deep breaths. Covered in mud and virtually soaked, the old woman looked up at the Tall Slave as she recovered, all the while rubbing her neck.
“Forgive me for calling you a slave…” She said in a rather feeble sounding voice. “However you are bound… shackled in a way the rest of us slaves aren’t.”
“Hmph…” The Tall Slave said as he snorted in derision at that statement. “Get up, Didi; we’ve wasted enough time here as it is.”
The older slave’s eyes bulged as she looked up at the Tall Slave after he nonchalantly called her Didi.
“H… how do you know my name?” She asked in complete shock.
“You would be surprised if I disclosed all that I know, now. I know that your name isn’t Didi, but is simply what you prefer to be called. Now, do not make me repeat myself a third time.”
Didi scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could. She slipped a few times in the mud, but eventually got up, flicking mud and muck off of her hands once she was up. She followed after the Tall Slave as he moved, walking out from behind the carriage. She walked in silence as she looked at him from behind. Despite her argument about him being shackled, everything about this man screamed at him being so much more than a mere slave. There was something about the way he moved, his gait, his stance, his posture that made the old woman shudder in a combination of fear and awe that none of the slavers or the mercenaries managed to do.
The pair of slaves arrived at the interrogation scene just as it seemed to have come to a conclusion. Ingolf had put the Beast Rod away, and had turned to those who had gathered. He had something of a severe expression on his face, and he spoke after clearing his throat.
“Somebody go summon Fatty, and quickly. I have something to say, and we all need to be present.”
Almost immediately after Ingolf’s order, somebody scurried off towards the Slaver carriage in order to call Saheed. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t take all that long for Saheed, Fekir and a few more Slavers to briskly make their way over to where most of the camp had gathered. There was even a group of slaves lurking nearby. There was some anxious chatter coming from the gathered ground and Ingolf was looking around to see if everybody was present when the Tall Slave appeared, with Didi alongside him. A section of Demon Tooth Mercs parted quickly, and the pair of slaves walked right through the space. The buzz and noise suddenly died down, and the Tall Slave looked around in silence. A few moments passed, before a slave appeared while carrying a crate, and then set the crate down behind the tall one. He quickly nodded, and scurried off, joining the group that had gathered in the shadows. The Tall Slave then sat down on the crate with something of a shrug, and looked at Ingolf, as if waiting for him to proceed. Funnily enough, Ingolf kept quiet as this was happening, as if he himself had been waiting for this to happen before starting.
“Well, I’ll be brief people, we’re in a bit of a fucked up situation. As many of you know, we are but a stone’s throw away from the Timberland, as well as the Magical Beasts that call it home. Unfortunately, it seems that we have offended the Beast King of the forest, and are practically sitting ducks over here, waiting for his Guardians to come here and turn us all into Beast food.”
As Ingolf paused for a bit to let everybody process the information, he suddenly noticed Didi, whose name he still did not know, leaning in close and speaking into the Tall Slave’s ear. He watched carefully, and it was only a matter of seconds before it dawned on him that she was translating whatever he was saying for the Nameless Slave.
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‘What the fuck?! There was somebody in this camp that could speak his language?’ Ingolf thought to himself as everybody stared at him, waiting for him to continue.
He quickly realised this, and cleared his throat before continuing with the briefing.
“Despite our precarious position, all is not lost! We have these camp walls which serve as a barrier between us and the deadly wind. In fact, whatever fucking creatures come after us have to make it over the damn walls before they get to us! Despite the first wave being grueling, we have suffered zero casualties; we have a healing elixir… shit, we even have one of them as a hostage. For now, all we should focus on is recuperating as much as possible, because the remaining hours of this Cycle are going to be a bitch.”
“What of a battle strategy, Ragnar?” Saheed asked.
“Since we don’t know what type of enemy we’ll be facing next, the only strategy we can implement is ‘kill whatever enters our encampment’.”
“And we wouldn’t have it any other way!” Thorvald boomed, before letting out a roar, which was reciprocated by those in his team.
As those clad in heavy armour let out their war cries, Didi continued to whisper into the Tall Slave’s ear. Ingolf noticed this once more, and looked over at Thorvald, giving him a certain look and nod. Thorvald, having seen the look a million times before, immediately nodded in response and began speaking, seemingly haven taken over and continuing to motivate the troops. Ingolf meanwhile made his way over towards Didi and the Nameless Slave, who both noticed him fairly early. Once he reached the pair, Ingolf simply nodded at the Nameless Slave, and then looked at Didi with a somewhat stern expression.
“You and I need to talk, Old Woman. Excuse yourself and come meet me by the Demon Tooth Carriage – NOW.”
He didn’t even look at the Nameless Slave as he walked off, and once he was far away enough, Didi looked down at the tall man.
“What should I do?” She asked.
“Do as he says, Old Woman. The emaciated one no doubt wishes to discuss how it is that you can understand and converse in my language.”
“Yes, I suspect as much myself.”
“Use your judgment and come up with a suitable reason – however do not even think about mentioning how I can understand them now due to your spell.”
“Yes, of course…” Didi said as she quickly broke eye contact and looked away. “Then, if you’ll excuse me.”
The old slave didn’t even wait for a response before scurrying away and making her way towards the Demon Tooth carriage. The Tall Slave remained seated on his makeshift chair, and just watched as Thorvald continued with his theatrics, stoking the flames within the hearts of the men and women who were still trying to recover from the previous skirmish. He then looked over towards the Barghest, just looking at it for the longest time. He was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts as he looked to his right and saw Henrik standing next to him.
“Hi there!” The dandy looking Henrik said with something of a wave.
“What do you want?” The Tall Slave snorted before looking back towards the Barghest.
“So, according to Brynhild, you had a hand in helping heal her. Despite her essentially being an Ogre, she is my friend, so I have taken it upon myself to thank you in her stead for the assistance.”
The Tall Slave looked back at Henrik, who raised a bag from behind his back and grinned. He even shook it about a little bit before setting it down and continuing to speak.
“So, you’re a slave and all, but you’re the only slave of your kind in the group, and it seems that there isn’t anybody who is able to help groom you. So, as a way to show my appreciation for helping my friend, I’m going to take care of that beard and that… hair.”
Henrik had been speaking while performing some strange form of sign language. The Tall Slave, who understood everything that had been said in spite of the sign language, just dismissively shooed Henrik away.
“There is no need for any of that. Go away.”
Just as the Tall Slave shaped as though he was going to stand up, something was draped over his shoulders. He looked to his right and saw an assortment of salves and things in jars that were on a foldable table which had been set up in record time. Next thing, and after his head had been tilted back, the Tall Slave felt warm water running through his hair and over his scalp.
“Don’t worry!” Henrik reassured as he dipped his hands into a sweet-smelling salve. “This shampoo is a proprietary blend of herbs and plant oils, designed to keep your hair healthy, and luxuriously soft.”
For some reason, the entire camp heard Henrik’s sale’s pitch, causing quite a few of them to actually look over at the pair in silence. While Henrik continued to speak about everything and nothing, Ingolf, who had watched the entire exchange between the two, closed the door to the Demon Tooth caravan and then sat down in a rather large chair with a tired sounding sigh. Didi, who was able to examine his face properly for the first time, noticed just how tired looking and gaunt the Mage looked. Despite looking like he was teetering on the precipice of consciousness, his gaze was almost unbearably strong and held Didi’s own gaze forcefully, as if refusing to let her look elsewhere in the room.
“…excuse me for speaking out of turn, but would you mind telling me why we are speaking in private?”
Ingolf continued to stare at Didi with unblinking eyes before he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.
“We might not have enough time to discuss this properly, so short answers will be best. Can you speak the same language as that slave?”
“Yes, I can.” Didi answered curtly.
“How long have you been speaking with him?”
“Possibly, the past half hour.”
“Really? You two haven’t been speaking amongst yourselves up to this point?”
“That man first spoke to me tonight, Demon Tooth Leader.”
“And you have never attempted to communicate with him?”
“No, Sir. Even when he spoke to me, I attempted to ignore him and pretend that I didn’t understand him.”
“But you do understand him?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Are you fluent in his language?”
“Enough to converse with him.”
“And that is why you were translating what I was saying to him a little earlier?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Ingolf opened his eyes to look at Didi again, and it felt as though he was contemplating what exactly to ask next.
“Who is he?” He eventually asked.
“I do not know, Sir.”
“Where is he from?”
“I do not know, Sir.”
“Why is he a slave? Where did his shackles come from? Do you know anything about him?”
“…the only thing I can be certain of Sir, is that he is not of this place.”
“Yes, well even I figured that out already.” Ingolf said with a roll of his eyes before standing up. “Listen, from now on, if I need to speak to him, I will speak through you. I’m not exactly sure who¸ he is, what he is, or why he’s a part of this caravan, but something that is clear to me is that he is not a slave.
The Demon Tooth Leader then moved to the door and opened it, before gesturing for Didi to leave. She bowed and did just that, however just as she crossed the threshold, Ingolf grabbed her by the shoulder.
“We will speak about this again.”
“Of course, Sir.” Didi said with a slight bow.
The old woman’s shoulder was released, and she walked out of the trailer. As she looked in the direction of the Tall Slave, she found herself being somewhat taken aback by the sight of Henrick working something not only into his hair, but into his beard as well. She quickly scurried over to the pair, and found the Tall Slave was leaning back with his eyes closed – looking entirely too relaxed.
“How did it go, Old Woman?” He asked before she could even announce her presence.
“O-Oh, it went well… Sir.”
“What did the Pale One ask you?”
“Basic questions about you which were centred on your identity.”
“I see.” The Tall Slave responded, seemingly done with his questioning.
“If I may ask, I have a question for you.” Didi tentatively mumbled.
“Ask.”
“What exactly is going on here?”
“This pretty boy took it upon himself to neaten me up.”
“…and you just allowed him to do this?” Didi asked incredulously.
“Whatever is in those jars smells nice.” The Tall Slave responded.
Didi just stood there in shock, however Henrik’s gaze made her feel slightly uncomfortable. She looked towards him and saw that he actually had a massive grin on his face.
“Whoa now, you can actually speak this guy’s language?” He asked, sounding somewhat excited.
“To a certain extent, yes.” Didi answered.
“In that case, I have a bunch of shit I need you to translate for me!”
Henrik just started talking, and as Didi ‘translated’ what was being said to the Tall Slave, he let out something of an inaudible groan as he was hearing most of what was being said for the second time, with the translation being the third. As the one sided conversation continued at break-neck speed, the actual haircut itself seemed to be taking forever, as Henrik experimented with various combinations of shampoos and conditioners. After what felt like an age to him, the apparent annoyance on the Tall Slave’s face seemed to make the decision to begin cutting the hair for Henrik, who pulled a series of blades out from the bag and lay them out meticulously on the table.
As Henrik began to cut the unkempt mop of hair with a pair of scissors, Ingolf, who had made his way over to Thorvald and the others, shook his head in disbelief as he watched what was going on. This slave, who was seated on a crate which was practically in front of the Barghest, was being groomed as though they weren’t in the process of waiting to be attacked. In fact, this was happening in full view of the entire encampment, the significance of the haircut was not lost on a few key members of camp.
“What in the Hells is Henrik doing?” Ingolf asked with a shake of the head.
“He’s… giving a slave a haircut.” Thorvald said with a shrug and a sigh. “He could have at least told the slave to move.”
“Told him to move? Even the slave owners don’t tell that man what to do.”
“Good point.” Thorvald conceded as he sighed.
“That said, we can actually communicate with him now.”
“Really?”
“Yeah – can’t you see Henrik over there doing his hair? He’s speaking to him through that old woman who made the healing potion for us.”
“That lady can speak his language?” Thorvald asked as he looked at Ingolf with wide eyes.
“She says she can speak a similar language.”
“Well, maybe now we can actually find out who he is and where he comes from.”
“It seems he has yet to divulge that information to anybody, so we’ll have to wait for that.”
“Sure, sure… tell me Ingolf, has Henrik ever done your hair?” Thorvald asked, looking somewhat perplexed.
“My hair? I don’t think that he has. How about you, Thorvald?”
“That bastard kept saying his ‘proprietary skin and haircare products’ were expensive to make, and were formulated for his hair alone. Yet here he is, washing and cutting a slave’s hair.” Thorvald snorted.
It sounded as though Thorvald felt rather annoyed by this fact, and Ingolf did well not to show any signs of his amusement at this. As the two continued to watch on, elsewhere, Brynhild was busy putting her armour on in the company of Ola, and a few of her subordinates.
“Why are you here, Ola?” Brynhild asked as she put her gear on.
“I’m just here to keep you company, Brynhild.” The archer said with a nonchalant wave of his hand.
“Did I ask for you to do that, Ola? Besides, don’t you and your bowmen have a job to do?”
“We have been doing our job, though. Which means we have seen what’s been happening since the end of the first wave of attacks. I have found that the tall nameless slave my brother has taken an interest in is the most interesting person in camp to keep an eye on. So I’ve seen everything he’s done… from the strange interactions with that old slave, to him providing assistance in giving you the healing potion.”
“Yes, and? Why are you bringing this up?” Brynhild asked as she shot Ola a particular look.
“I’m just saying – I saw some things that appeared to be a lot more interesting than what was said to the group. For example, how you were embraced by a slave and stared longingly into his eyes. How your cheeks flushed and your breath became heavy. In fact, your under garments appeared to become—”
Ola was unable to finish what he saying as he was pushed rather violently into the side of the Demon Tooth trailer. A blade was then pressed against his neck, and he looked into Brynhild’s glowing eyes. He saw what could only be described as rage in her eyes, however it neither lasted long enough nor was intense enough to have had any real effect on either of them.
“Don’t think that because you’re the Boss’ younger brother, you are exempt from having to show respect, you punk.” Brynhild warned, her voice menacing at first but calming down surprisingly quickly.
Ola just took a deep breath, and then smirked at Brynhild and shrugged.
“This has nothing to do with that. I’ve told you before, you don’t need to look for these slaves to let you fulfil your desires… I’m right here, and I always will be.”
Brynhild scoffed, before slowly pulling her weapon away and sheathing it.
“You’re a child, Ola – this approach of yours just confirms that. I would appreciate it if you stopped this shit before I feel as though I have to retaliate.”
Brynhild signaled for her subordinates to follow her and then left. Ola took yet another deep breath, as if inhaling the woman’s scent before grinning and acrobatically leaping onto the roof of the trailer. Brynhild went to join Thorvald and Ingolf, all the while keeping her eyes more or less on Henrik and the two slaves.
“The more I look at that, the harder it becomes to understand.” She said out loud once she reached the Demon Tooth Leader and second in command.
“Yeah, I know, right?” Ingolf replied with a sigh before looking at Brynhild. “Only one person can make you pull that kind of face. Did that idiot cause even more trouble?”
“It’s nothing, Ingolf.” Brynhild said dismissively.
When Henrik was about halfway through cutting the Tall Slave’s hair, one of Ola’s subordinates appeared from out of nowhere and stood before Ingolf.
“Sir, we’ve got enemies incoming!”
“What? Have you identified what they are?”
“Yes, Sir – Snow Harpies!”
Ingolf then shot a look in Thorvald’s direction, with the big man wasting no time in stomping his foot and letting out a thunderous roar.
“Attention! We are about to be swarmed by Snow Harpies! To those who don’t know, these Beasts attack in groups and like to flank, so unlike when fighting the Barghests, we have to use our heads. Form teams, try to cover each other’s blind spots, and above all else, if a teammate falls prey to a Harpy’s song, try to snap him or her out of it! Stay alert!”
Thorvald altered his “War Cry” skill in order to convey information to the entire camp. While the Demon Tooth mercenaries and the slavers readied their weapons and formed into their groups, Henrik and the Tall Slave were still seated on the crate. A few of the mercenary’s subordinates appeared as if from nowhere and stood behind their leader, as if awaiting instructions. The other members of the Demon Tooth Leadership were all barking instructions to those that served directly under them, assigning teams and the like. Seeing as they were used to fighting the Beasts of this region, they were going over the standard battle plans and strategies. Brynhild and Thorvald were the most vocal, while Ola and his archers were having a quick strategy meeting on the roof. Henrik’s troops were waiting for instruction on any level, but their captain was busy measuring something with his fingers while concentrating on the slave’s head.
“…Henrik.” One of them said after what felt like an age. “The Harpies are coming.”
“Yeah, I know.” Henrik said almost dismissively. “You already know what to do against these things. Go team.”
The few rogues that were there just sighed and shrugged their shoulders, before spreading out and finding their fellows to relay their superior’s instructions. Staying true to her role, Didi was giving the Tall Slave constant updates on the current situation, prompting him to actually address Henrik, through his ‘interpreter’.
“This encampment is about to be attacked. Was that wise?”
“Huh? Oh, of course.” Henrik said with a nod. “Between mine, Brynnie, Ola and Thorvald’s teams, mine is easily the best. They’ll be able to handle those birds with no issues.”
Henrik said this just as he went back to cutting the slave’s hair, and that was that. Barely a minute or two later, the air in the camp seemed to change, causing those who were sensitive to the change to actually reach for their weapons. The slaves were corralled into the tents by the Izdurians, and that turned out to be a rather good decision as moments later the flapping of wings could be heard. The flapping was then accompanied by strange shrieks and caws, until a large number of winged creatures came into view. They easily flew over the top of icy walls of the camp, and everybody drew their weapons.
“SNOW HARPIES!!!” Was bellowed by somebody, as if everybody else could neither see nor hear the Beasts.
These creatures were an odd and frankly hideous amalgamation of bird and human. They had almost eagle like talons, from the knee down, human legs from the knee to the waist, elongated vulture like bodies that were covered in a combination of feathers and plumage, with the latter completely covering pairs of saggy breasts, long vulture like necks and then incredibly ugly, wart ridden faces with shaggy mops of hair as the cherry on top. Glowing blue eyes scanned the encampment for targets, and they all let out a deafening shriek which caused a few people in the camp to shudder.
Ingolf, who had moved to a more centralised position in the camp shuddered as well, but not due to the shriek.
“Ugh.” He said as he cringed. “No matter how many times I see these hideous things, their looks get to me every time.”
He then removed his staff from his back and took a deep breath.
“As an offensive force, I am virtually useless this time around, so we will handle this the way usually do when facing enemies of this type.”
Despite speaking in his normal voice, the entire Demon Tooth Leadership heard him clearly, and all of them with the exception of Henrik looked at Ingolf and nodded their acknowledgment of the command. The Harpies wasted no time in identifying their targets and swooping down like a mass of shrieking, feathered and furry meteorites. The Demon Tooth mercenaries split into their little groups and spread out. As if to show everybody how it was done and to set the pace, Thorvald set off in the direction of a few Harpies that appeared to have targeted a group of his guys. Wielding his axe in both hands, he leapt up into the air and swung down with force, although the Harpy he had targeted noticed him at the last second and evaded with a caw. The attack was ferocious, and if the beast hadn’t evaded, there was every chance it would have been cleaved in two. Thorvald didn’t stop after the first attempt however, and he continued to swing wildly and tirelessly. As relentless as he was, Thorvald was not making any progress in his attempt to hit the Harpy. That said, the look in his eyes hinted at him not being the slightest bit disappointed by this, and after what looked like the hundredth swing and miss, the Harpy flew back and created some space between it and the warrior. Thorvald then grinned and stomped his foot on the ground hard as a red glow enveloped his body. Suddenly, a tendril shot out from his body and wrapped itself around the beast before yanking the squawking Harpy towards Thorvald, who was standing with IceBane raised high above his head and a grin on his face. With an almighty yell, he swung down once again and this time, he made contact with the Harpy, with IceBane seemingly awakening as its head started to glow moments before making touching the Harpy, and splitting it in two. Normally, the blow wouldn’t have been fatal, but the stars aligned for the large warrior and he landed a Critical Hit on the beast. Harpy blood coated the still glowing axe and as it sprayed from the two halves of the beast, Thorvald raised IceBane above his head and roared – an act that instantly caused the other warriors to raise their own two-handers above their heads and roar as well, raising the morale of pretty much everybody in the camp.
As the two-handed weapon wielding warriors fought the Harpies using Thorvald’s template as best they could, the sword and shield wielding warriors were fighting in their own. Lacking the sheer destructive power of Thorvald’s subordinates, Brynhild’s warriors relied more on speed and accumulative damage to take down the Beasts. They even attempted to draw them in, banging on their shields and Taunting the Beasts, before blocking whatever attacks they faced and then attempting to retaliate. The issue with this pattern was that it allowed the Harpies to use their own special attacks – namely their sleep-inducing songs. As grotesque and as shrill as their voices usually were, the moment those creatures started humming a tune, it was extremely difficult to not succumb to the effects of the song. The singing Harpy would have to be a certain distance from the targets when it sang for the technique to be effective, which meant that if there was a second group somewhere – or in this case a Mage – it was possible for the Beasts to be countered. Ingolf, who had been hanging back and keeping an eye on proceedings, would wait for the Harpies to start singing before pointing his staff towards the beast and casting the Dispel spell. In the hands of a skilled enough Mage, the spell cost next to nothing to cast, and the higher the caster’s skill, the more powerful the spells they could dispel. When the Mercenaries in question had been released from the song, there was a window of opportunity for them to swarm and attack the Harpies, which were more often than not stunned in place.
Because Ingolf was the only Mage present in camp, he wasn’t able to take care of all the Harpies that began singing. That’s where Ola and Henrik’s came in. When Harpies all started singing at the same time, arrows would rain down from the darkness to both interrupt and injure them, and whether it was to provide assistance for Thorvald or Brynhild’s warriors, the arrows would provide assistance. Even then, after an arrow would successfully hit, one of Henrik’s men would appear from the shadows and unleash attacks from behind known as Backstabs, and these attacks would do far more damage than a regular attack from the front. Despite the pendulum of battle swinging in both directions, that morale boost that the Human’s received at the start of the second wave really did have an effect, as they were coming up trumps in most of the engagements – despite being outnumbered by the beats.
Ingolf, who had gradually made his way towards the Slavers, reached them to find them having switched tactics from the previous wave, and they were now guarding their cargo. The slaves, who were all still in the tent were being guarded by their owners. Ingolf looked at them all suspiciously, before shaking his head slightly as his eyes fell on Saheed. The portly man wasn’t even enveloped in his flame shroud, and they were all quite clearly waiting it out while recuperating as much as they could while leaving the bulk of the heavy lifting and risk taking to the mercenaries.
“Fatty.” Ingolf said with a tired sounding voice. “We really could use your help over there.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
“Look, these are SNOW Harpies, Fatty. You guys and your Holy Flame of Izdur would be of great help.”
“Of that, I have no doubt, Ragnar. But you see, we hired you to protect us. We paid you a large sum of money up front, and if we are required to help you do what you were paid for, shouldn’t we then take a portion of our money back?” Saheed said as he looked at Ingolf while having a drag of his pipe.
“What?!” Ingolf replied incredulously as sweet-smelling smoke flooded his nostrils.
“You heard me quite clearly, my emaciated friend. We will continue to recover while you and your people handle these disgusting bird women.”
As Ingolf was trying to contain his rage, back at the crate, it was almost as if Henrik, Didi and the slave were all in a bubble. There was shouting, screaming, grunts, groans, shrieks, singing, every sort of sound imaginable coupled with blood and violence all around them, and they weren’t even reacting. At this point, Henrik was now shaving the Tall Slave’s face, and the levels of concentration and care were now real. As if the many Harpies that were in the sky and close to the ground suddenly realized that the trio existed, a few of them swooped down, targeting the trio. Just as they were about to make contact, Brynhild came flying in with her shield raised. She crashed into the first Harpy with such force, her Shield Bash did far more damage than she ever thought it would, sending the Harpy it hit flying into one of its fellows. Brynhild was still in midair when she unsheathed her longsword and performed two diagonal strikes in the shape of a giant X, striking two more Harpies at the same time and sending them flying back as blood sprayed forth from the wounds that the attack caused. As the warrior landed on the ground, she slid forward quite a bit until eventually coming to a stop. Clearly pumped, she banged her sword against her shield and let out a roar of her own. She watched as the Harpies she attacked recover while a few more appeared to target Henrik and the two slaves once more.
“Come at me, you… ugly birds!” She boomed, using her Taunt skill to full effect. “Are those beaks, or noses on your faces? Huh?!”
The Harpies weren’t particularly interested in Brynhild however, and only had eyes for those they had originally targeted. Brynhild then banged her sword against her shield one more time, before stabbing the tip into the muddy ground below and flipping the harpies the ‘bird’.
“Y-Your saggy tits are gross! I bet the milk they produce is sour and lumpy! Y-Yeah, the only things that come out of your gross-ass tits are milk curds, and… and rotten cheese!”
There was just a moment of absolute calm and silence as every single living thing within the confines of the camp seemed to hear exactly what Brynhild had said. The heads of the Harpies that were the target of the taunts all suddenly turned and looked squarely at Brynhild, and glowed with the kind of rage that only came from the soul. They ALL let out a blood-curdling shriek, before cawing and flapping their wings.
“Why did that even work?!” Ingolf asked out loud as he ran towards a group that was battling some Harpies. “These things are birds – they don’t produce milk!”
Meanwhile, the Harpies all made a beeline towards Brynhild, who had pulled her sword out from the dirt and was standing with her shield pushed in front of her and her sword ready to strike after defending. As they all got close however, a number of arrows flew in from behind Brynhild and struck the Beasts at the same time, before exploding and setting them all alight. The Harpies made some shrill noises as they fell to the ground and burned alive. Brynhild stood to her full height and snorted as she towards where the arrows came from.
“Your Scatter Shot always was a potent attack, Ola.” She said, as though he could hear her.
She then looked towards Henrik and the slaves, intent on giving the mercenary a piece of her mind when what she actually saw caused her eyes to widen and her jaw to drop. The Demon Tooth Leader had finished shaving the Tall Slave, and was in the process of applying some kind of post shave oil. Whether it was because of the lighting caused by the massive flames, the oil making his face glisten, or even the haircut, the sight of his freshly groomed head had Brynhild dumbfounded. Even Henrik took a moment to examine not only his handiwork, but the slave’s face.
“Well, well…” Henrik said as he keened in close and looked the face over with puckered lips. “You certainly are a handsome one without all that hair obstructing everything.
The Nameless Slave neither said a word nor changed his poker face. He just looked at Henrik before standing up, with the bib that had been placed on him slowly falling off as he did. The moment the bib hit the wet ground, there was yet another change in the atmosphere as the slave took a deep breath and looked around before simply snorting.
“Hmph.”