Onze (Simius Emulato)

War Mage 2

Strength 2

Agility 1

Dexterity 2

Constitution 2

Intelligence 7

Wisdom 8

Charisma 6

Luck 9

“Well, your physical stats are a mess, but they’ve already gone up a touch from our healing efforts. Once you’ve given birth, I suspect most of your stats will double. Though if I’m estimating right, your agility is being reduced by more than that”

“Helpful. I’m big as a house so I can barely move. Clearly, the dungeon knows all.”

Onze sat on the sidelines in their new training arenas, watching over her new war mages and giving them what pointers she could. She hadn’t been the only one to unlock the class naturally, but she’d been the first, and seemed to have the deepest insight on how to develop new spells and train this brand-new class up. She hadn’t quite figured out how to reach the third level yet, though the bu- Guiying- had suggested she work on developing spells in every element, and applying them to as many uses as she could.

She’d gotten no more advice from that source after she’d learned how to create a toxic cloud of bacteria that effectively devoured all living matter within the spell’s radius. Blessedly, it had a natural limiter that sterilized the cloud after it did its work… but even she’d admit the results were a touch grisly. Mostly, she’d been launching small bolts of flame out of the end of her focus, and had all her recruits do similar until they could reliably and efficiently cast the spell without a second thought.

Monotonous work, but a good way to ground them in focus and control.

A hiss, as the gob inside her landed a critical hit to her left kidney. She honestly feared giving birth in her state, but that was part of why Rhys was constantly monitoring her and had a healer squadron constantly attending to her.

Shaking off the hit, she looked over past her trainees to the scouts. They still favored flint arrowheads, but to be fair they’d be quite nasty against light armor, and the scouts did train with some kobold steel arrowheads designed specifically to punch through heavier designs. The supervisor there was, surprisingly, a goblin she knew named Ilm. Nice enough girl, but… well, those who passed their grudges on did so in secret, and even those who kept them weren’t supposed to know their origin. But it wasn’t that hard to connect a few dots when you paid attention, even if you didn’t ask questions and kept your mouth shut. Ilm had a lot she didn’t let show beneath the cheer.

“Stop slacking off, you brain-dead lizards! I don’t have to be looking to know when you aren’t putting effort in!”

Her charges (and to be fair, there were a few goblins in the mix, even throwing out the ones who hadn’t been slacking while she was looking elsewhere) renewed their efforts, and she looked behind her into the sparring rings.

Axes, spears, knives, and swords were wielded with a hunter’s efficiency. The swords were new, based on a design Guiying had provided and called a “jian,” but were basically just straight knives that were about three-quarters of the wielder’s arm in length. Fairly simple, but she was fascinated by how light they looked. Apparently, the pommel was weighted in such a way to make the blade and tip of the sword feel lighter in the hand. In Zuk’s, the blade felt like a natural extension of his body, though the kobold still said he preferred a good spear or a solid axe.

In the off hand, many of the kobolds were using one of two shield designs. Those with spears were using a large rectangular shield Onze herself had mentioned the dwarves seemed to favor, and Rhys had apparently referenced some cosmic library to make a few improvements on the design. Those with smaller, lighter weapons carried a shield Rhys had called a “buckler,” which was designed specifically to deflect attacks instead of absorbing them, and worked better when you needed mobility and weren’t in a heavy formation like the spearmen tended to be.

Actually, a divergence between the warriors was starting to develop, with the ones favoring spears, swords, and large shields becoming “hoplites” and the ones that favored axes, knives, and smaller shields becoming “skirmishers.”

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And somehow, the kobolds who went down that road were learning to spit fire. Nothing spectacular, but it made for a good point-blank attack for the skirmishers, while the hoplites turned it into a light barrage. Her war mages hit harder, and the scouts had more range… but there was plenty to learn and share, and no one said you had to lock yourself into one class or role.

Speaking of which…

“You lot bore me. I’m gonna go check on the engineers. Make me waddle back, and you’re target practice. I’ve been trying to figure out how lightning works.”

Her war mages gulped, and redoubled their efforts. She’d followed through on that threat just often enough to keep them on their toes. After all, having to move was a hassle right now, and did leave her cross if someone forced her to push herself.

Outside, there was mayhem. Her people had always had a knack for tools and mechanical gadgets, and the kobolds were born trap-masters. Combined, it turned them into a class called siege engineers… and just about made Onze wet herself when she looked at their masterworks.

Well, she kinda did anyway, but that was because she currently lacked a bladder. But that was what the pads were for, and the healer squad always had extras.

Guiying was sitting in a black-painted “stealth” catapult and trying to convince the boys to launch her. Thankfully, they weren’t that stupid, even if they thought painting something black would make it sneakier, or red made things move faster. Tough as their resident rabbit-girl was, no one was going to humor her for something she called a “classic gag,” even if odds were higher than average that she’d survive.

Aside from boulder slingers, they had some nasty toys designed for the more direct approach. Nothing too heavy, since they didn’t have a way to haul anything without towing it with their own bodies… but the arrow scorpions threw a nasty cloud of “stingers” into enemy formations, every pointed projectile contained some random poison or another, and… oh. Oh no.

“You figured it out.”

Mik and Tzed, a goblin female who’d lost her mind a little to the grudge and a kobold who liked fire a little too much, were grinning together as they hefted the carefully-sealed jug between them.

“First batch, right here!” Mik exclaimed, her manic grin showing hints of pride. “Ignites on contact with air, near-impossible to put out, burns through a few materials we even thought weren’t flammable! Rhys had to make up a special glaze when our first urn kinda… well, melted. Says to call it ‘kobold fire,’ and… well…”

“Told us we’d wish for something as simple as death if we ever shared the formula with anyone but him, and said he’d be the only one making it from now on.” Tzed finished sheepishly.

“For good reason. This stuff is… well, you don’t know what rocket fuel or napalm is, but it takes the nastiest qualities of both into something disturbingly easy to make and nearly impossible to contain, especially once it ignites. I plan on burying this stuff the moment we take down Evan.”

Onze nodded, and readied an ice attack to throw Guiying off the catapult with less damage than being used as ammunition would cause. She jumped down on her own, looking cross.

“You’re always such a grumpy little thing, Onze!”

“Horomones.”

“No, I’ve seen horomonal emotion swings. You’re just angry that you can’t take the fight to the enemy.”

“I’m angry that you’re not taking this seriously?! Have you ever had to suffer through a war?!”

Ice. And not the kind she was threatening to conjure. Guiying glared at her, rage seething in a way that she’d never seen before.

“My mother was pregnant with my oldest siblings when the war began. She had to flee for her life and saw her mentor murdered before her eyes and everything she’d known to that point destroyed because of a petty tyrant who treated those beneath him like disposable playthings at best. When she took her revenge on that tyrant, she was pregnant with me, and the power she drew on to kill him left permanent marks on my mind before I was even born. I grew up missing meals, working hard from the moment I could walk, and dealing with refugees who weren’t anywhere near as badly-treated as you were, but were so used to their oppression that they often demanded to go back to it. Things had only just been resolved when I found myself here, but they’re still trying to clean up the mess, and my dad estimated it would be centuries before the land recovered entirely. You have the grudges of your people, and shared them with me because you didn’t deserve to hold that burden alone. But I have my own weight to carry, and it includes seeing a city of millions turned into a ruin because of a house cat who wanted to be a god. Those small skeletons… just children…”

Guiying broke down for a moment, pain and rage filling her eyes in equal measure.

“I’m sorry. I-”

“How were you to know? I only just told you. But yeah, keeping good cheer during wars is the only way to keep yourself from breaking sometimes. And you’ve seen it in your people, it’s often just another way to break.”

Onze froze, as Guiying gave her a firm hug.

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore. Zuk and Rhys wanted you here even if you’d been fit enough to go on the front lines, just because you have a talent for keeping everyone motivated. Zuk’s a hunt leader in his heart, and barely translates that to being a general. Rhys has his hands full keeping the resource bars full and making sure the liminal zone between himself and this ‘Evan’ stays where it is. And I’m… honestly best at keeping the industry going.”

A small croon, as Lin entwined herself around Guiying for scritches.

“Can’t heal, can’t sew, can’t even manage laundry or cooking. Damn I’m useless on the domestic front. If my mother hadn’t been brought in on loan for six months, we wouldn’t even be in the shape we are now in this little valley. Why did They pick me?”

Onze couldn’t answer, just stay there as a shoulder to lean on.

“Well, at least I can teach hand-to-hand fighting and basic stat training. But that’s after lunch. Care to launch me before then?”

“Guiying… I have half a dozen people behind me who do not want to patch your broken bones when they’re supposed to be eating. And it’ll take me that long to get to the eating hall anyway, so let’s just get started. I’m thinking ramen.”

As Onze walked back into the dungeon, Guiying smiled. She hoped the two of them would become the best of friends, given time.