Intellect is the last defence of the weak. Reason is an attack on the strong. It tricks them to ignore their senses, hate their instincts, work against their own well being.

* The Book of Wrecker

1 Day Later (Wreckworld Time) - Copycat - Lonely Caravan

“It’s time to wake up.” says a deep voice.

No thanks, deep voice. I’m very sleepy.

“Wake up. You won’t like it if you don’t. Also, we have questions.”

I yawn. Whatever. I don’t - YIKES!! A spike of raw pain drives into my back and shoots straight to my brain. The fuck that hurt!

The pain peels away several layers of groggy, and I’m able to take in my surroundings. I’m slumped in a caged wagon, my wrists bound in chains bolted to the floor. The mobile prison is being slowly towed through a rusty desert by a pair of mules.

There’s another prison wagon ahead of us, and a few more behind. This convict convoy is chaperoned by a ruly mob of Tieflings and Orcs. They have a warrior monk aesthetic. Rough robes, rough weapons, and rough home lives. Probably. I’m just guessing about their home lives, but they have the general demeanor of people who hate fun.

Across from me is the source of the deep voice. Tall, bald, and broad. Covered in thick, knotted, runic tattoos. They spiral around his limbs and torso, curl up his neck, over his scalp, to end at his temples.

He’s kind of sexy in a menacing way. He’s also chained to the floor. Interesting. If he’s trying to gain my trust, that’s a strong gambit.

“I’m not answering any questions until you release me.”

“How would I release you? I’m obviously a prisoner.” He frowns. “Do you think I’m pretending to be a prisoner to better interrogate you? That would be awesome. And honestly, something I would do. But no, I was just making conversation so I can stay awake.”

I yawn. “Why stay awake? Sleep is awesome. I’m so sleepy - FUCK!!” Another spike of pain launches from my back to impale my brain. The hell?

An imp bounces into my line of sight and lands on the big man’s shoulder. He looks like a monkey with bat wings and a scorpion tail. Kind of cute in a menacing way.

“I’m Vali, this is my friend, Carl.” says the big guy. “Kind of. I guess he’s really my captor. Professionally we’re enemies, but on a personal level, we have a lot in common.”

“Pleased to meet you.” whispers Carl.

“Hey, Carl.” I grimace at the venom oozing from his barbed tail. “I assume you’re the little bitch who keeps stinging me?”

“Um, no.” whispers Carl. “That would be Gretchen.”

I freeze as wee claws dig into my scalp and an angry upside down monkey face hisses into mine. Holy crap. The little demon takes a moment to stare hate into my soul before bouncing up to cling to the roof of the cage.

Well hello, Gretchen.

Vali and Carl look embarrassed by Gretchen’s hissy fit. “Yes, well, that’s why I want to stay awake. It’s less ouchy. So... what brings you to Wreckworld? Get pelted with arrows from a mysterious assailant?”

“No, we killed that guy.” I frown. “I think someone spiked my drink.”

“That’s monstrous. I wasn’t a fan of invisible arrow guy, but at least he left the booze alone.”

I nod dozily. Goddamn I’m tired. My eyes start closing by themselves, until Vali gives an anxious little hiss. They snap open to see Gretchen’s vile stinger hovering near my face.

“I’m awake! I’m awake! Fuck! What the fuck is going on?”

“Yeah, we should explain that. Carl, do you want to explain it?”

“I dunno, you do it better.” whispers Carl in his raspy little voice.

“I don’t think I do.” demures Vali. “But, I’ll do it if you’d like me to.”

“Yes, please, thank you.” rasps Carl.

I shake my head. “Holy fuck, can you get to it? You’re putting me to sleep again.”

“Right, sorry. We’ve been kidnapped by Wrecker...”

Gretchen hisses from the ceiling. “Saved by Wrecker!”

“Sure, whatever.” Vali continues. “Wrecker paid dark elf bounty hunters to kick the shit out of us and drag us towards salvation. They just chucked us through the Sinner’s Gate. That’s it behind you.”

I look back and see a large volcano behind us. A jagged peak, billowing black smoke. Wow. That’s menacing. Little sexy, I guess.

“The Sinner’s Gate is up near the top, we came through it yesterday. This caravan is taking us to some brainwashing camp…”

“School for Wizards!”

“... sure. So, does that clear everything up?”

“No!” I snap. “Why am I so sleepy! Why won’t you let me sleep!”

“Oh, they keep us dosed with sleeping poison so we can’t concentrate enough to do magic.” says Vali. “It works pretty good. Man, if I could use magic there’d be big trouble.”

Carl nods happily. “Oh yeah, you’re a huge problem.”

“Thanks, buddy.”

“Arrg.” I grumble. “Why don’t they let us sleep then?”

“Hmm. I’m not sure.” muses Vali. “Seems like that would be a simple way to control us. There must be a reason. Could we possibly get more dangerous while we sleep? Hey Carl, what happens if we fall asleep?”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m a professional.”

“Fair enough. Interesting idea, tho. Maybe I can do some kind of devastating dream magic? That’d be something to look forward to if I wasn’t about to be brainwashed.”

“I once dreamed I ate a potato.” whispers Carl. “Could I make that happen?”

“Absolutely, buddy. Anything’s possible with dream magic.”

Gretchen hisses like a tea kettle. “You can’t sleep because you might wake up refreshed enough to concentrate! There’s no such thing as dream magic!”

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Vali and Carl are crestfallen.

“Well that’s disappointingly mundane.”

“No potato for Carl.”

“There’s gonna be potatoes for everyone.” I stagger to my feet, test the strength of my chains. “We’re getting the fuck out of here.”

I heave on my restraints. I expect a few stings, but Gretchen just watches calculatingly. A couple of the grumpy monks give me the side-eye, but don’t intervene. The chains groan and the floor creaks, but nothing lets loose.

Right. I try to duplicate. Nothing. Not surprising, but that would have been convenient. Maybe I can goad someone into stabbing me. Call that Plan B. I try my healing spell. Nothing. I remain unhurt, but sleepy.

I try to summon gnomic fire, a cloud of bees, a magic missile. Nothing. Should have practiced more. I close my eyes. Let go of all earthly desires. Really well (I think) but I’m still on Wreckworld when I open my eyes. Dang.

Hmm. I peer around at the other cages. I see plenty of dejected elves, and nymphs, and more elves, but no bright green dragonmen.

“Slight change of plan.” I declare. “I have friends on the way. We’ll leave when they get here.”

Vali and Carl look awkward. Gretchen snickers. “She forgot about the time difference.”

I look at Vali. He winces and explains. “Every hour on Lighthome is a month down here in Wreckworld. It’ll be weeks before your friends even know you’re gone. Probably years before they find a way to get here. We’re basically already brainwashed.”

“Saved.” hisses Gretchen.

“Shut up.”

I huff and sit back down. The gnomes were probably still partying when we ported over. If they party till they pass out, I’ll be here for a while. A year at least. But Presto never passes out! And has a comprehensive travel spellbook! So it could be much less. Maybe. Not likely, tho. He probably won’t notice I’m gone until the party winds down. Cy’s much more likely to notice I’m missing, but he was trashed.

So. I’m probably getting brainwashed. Jokes on Wrecker, I don’t have enough brains to wash. I barely know anything. I choose to believe that’s an asset in this situation.

While I’m thinking Carl absentmindedly gives Vali a jab.

“OW! Dammit Carl! What was that for?”

“Sorry. You were quiet and breathing deeply. Thought you were nodding off.”

“She’d just got some bad news. I was giving her a minute.”

“Sorry. I just kinda stung on autopilot. I’ll focus up.”

We travel slowly through the rusty desert, Vali and Carl jabbering the whole way. I eventually lighten up and join their endless conversation. I’m not really in the mood to talk - too sleepy - but it’s better than being stung repeatedly, which is my only alternative activity.

I learn a few things about Wreckworld, but just basic stuff. Vali’s been here before, but doesn’t remember much. Carl’s lived here his entire life, but has spent most of it working on the savior caravan.

Apparently, there’s more to Wreckworld than red rocks and volcanoes. The land around the Saint’s Gate is actually quite nice. That’s where the Wizard School is, and where we’re headed. I ask why we didn’t just come through the Saint’s Gate, and get snark from Gretchen. I guess we’re not “good enough”.

We play a lot of word games. Riddles, 20 questions, truth-or-dare. Mostly truths. Hard to get a good dare going when you’re chained to a wagon. I ask what’s up with Vali’s magic tattoos.

“They’re a binding spell. They limit my powers.”

Carl and I share a leery look. “Yeesh, who put them there?”

“I did.” Vali flashes a savage grin. “Sometimes I make bad decisions.”

Nighttime is the worst. Sometimes we stop at rough hewn rock monasteries, get fresh mules, and continue on. Usually we just stop right on the trail, and I get to watch as the mules and monks sleep. I hate it. It’s even too dark to play I-spy. Can’t see the red rocks that make the backbone of our game.

Bitching in the dark, I workshop dozens of ways this caravan could move faster. Let’s get this brainwashing started! It’s repeatedly explained to me that nobody rushes in the lower realms. Plenty of time down here. Also, nobody cares if I’m sleepy and bored. Eventually, Vali teaches me some dwarvish songs to shut me up. Carl joins in with a scratchy, yet pleasing baritone.

Nighttime is also when we’re served the bad gruel that is our only nourishment. It’s so gross I assumed it was part of the brainwashing process, until I noticed it’s all the monks eat as well. Maybe they’re just shitty cooks.

Of course, our gruel is liberally sprinkled with sleeping poison, but Vali insists that makes it slightly tastier. I’m skeptical, but sometimes I catch Carl surreptitiously adding a little poison to his own meals, which kind of confirms it.

On our eighth night out, we spot flashes in the sky. Wild bolts of lightning pummel the volcano behind us.

“Huh.” grunts Carl. “Never seen that before.”

It seems the monks haven’t either. They wake the mules, and start the caravan moving. I get the impression they’d like to move faster, but the mules only have one speed. Should have hurried up when I first suggested it. Too late now.

Just before dawn the caravan stops. The monks get edgy. Our guards move forward, then get ordered back to their posts. But they don’t pay us much mind, whispering together and shooting nervous glances forward. Gretchen growls and paces the ceiling, tail whipping with anxious rage. Carl placidly takes a shot of sleeping poison and calls over an Orcish Monk. They share a few guttural words.

Carl turns back to us. “The path is blocked. Some kind of noxious smog.”

I perk up. That sounds promising.

“Idiots.” hisses Gretchen. “Go around.”

“We can’t. It moves.” rasps Carl. “We sent in scouts, but they didn’t come back.”

I smile. Oh yeah.

“Well boys, it’s been fun, but I’m off.” I pause. “Wanna come with?”

Vali and Carl share a skeptical look, then direct it at me. “Are you friends with an aggressive poison cloud?”

“I am indeed.” I stretch, limber up. “We’re kind of a team. Could use a few more good men.”

They’re cautiously interested. “What does your team do?”

“Drink beer. Smoke dope. Tame ogres. Slay elves. Seek hidden gods.”

Vali’s impressed. “That’s a diverse portfolio.”

Carl nods. “What are the hours like?”

“Not bad. We usually adventure for a few hours, then eat potatoes and have a nap.”

Vali nods wistfully. Carl clutches his brow. Gretchen laughs derisively. “Do you really think they can overcome the warrior monks?”

“Definitely.” I watch the monks unload a wagon and equip themselves with long spears and tower shields. “Probably.” I do a little math. Eight days here means about twenty minutes in Lighthome, so… fuck, they’re still drunk. “Sixty-forty.”

“Good enough.” snaps Carl. “Give me the keys, Gretchen.”

“Fuck you! Die traitor!" Gretchen pounces down on Carl, gouging with her claws while stabbing feverishly with her stinger.

“Ack! Get off me!” Carl slaps ineffectually at the more aggressive guard. “I want to kill elves and eat potatoes!”

Carl curls into a ball and tries to reason with his most unreasonable opponent. She’s distracted, close enough for Vali to give her a good kicking… and he’s asleep. The big man slumped over and snoring to beat the band.

Well dang. My little rebellion fizzled out fast. I peer through the cage. Wonder if the drunks can do better?

The monks are now armored, and have formed a phalanx to advance into the poison cloud. Huge shields interlocking, long spears bristling. Their charge will shred and trample whatever’s in the cloud.

KA-BOOM!!

Thunder crashes behind the caravan. Wind whips in every direction as the air pressure plummets. A lone figure walks from the storm. A silhouette lit by a sparking blade.

The monks break formation as they scramble to turn around. They struggle to reform their phalanx. Too late.

The swordsman surges forward as a lightning bolt arcs down from the sky. They strike the monks as one. As the swordsman darts through the broken phalanx, his blade guides the lightning to their metal armaments, blowing asunder everything in his wake.

It’s total destruction, which I relish, until the lightning arcs over to detonate the prison wagons.

I look down at the metal shackles grounding me to the wagon. Shit.

KA-BAM!!

The roof, bars, and inhabitants of my wagon are blown away. I’m left stunned on a smoking platform, scorched all over, and raw from where my shackles blew off. Ow. I’m awake tho. And free. So huzzah.

The winds have dispersed the poison cloud to reveal Cy, who fishes his charred father out of a smoking crater. He flops the groaning gnome next to me and lays down on the platform as well.

“God damn, I’m tired. You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had.”

I laugh. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“No problem.”

“Ow.” Presto groans. “Sorry about the cages. Thought that would be a good way to burn off excess energy. Two birds type of thing. Didn’t really think it all the way through.”

“That’s fine. Everyone is free now. Very efficient.” Some of them may be in pieces, but they are free.

“What now?” asks Cy. “Do we have time for a nap?”

Please god, let the answer be yes.

KA-RACK!!

Another peal of thunder wracks the sky, as winds start whipping again.

“That you, old man?”

“No.”

Lightning flashes, silhouetting a dozen winged forms menacing above us. They have the crested helms, breastplates, and kilts of Wreckworld Wizards, with huge maces and giant wings jutting from their backs.

“Crap, it’s the Praetorians.” swears Cy. “Why’d you use storm magic in Wreckworld?”

“It’s all I could remember.” mutters Presto. “I don’t think it’s gonna work on these guys.”

“Right. Have to kick their ass the old fashion way.” Cy staggers to his feet. “HEY ASSHOLE! COME DOWN HERE!”

The lead Praetorian nods and rockets down at Cy, blowing him from the platform. Another flashes down and slams me with his mace.

I crash a dozen yards away, badly battered. The Praetorian lands above me. Hefts his mace.

I feel a pressure rise in my chest-

WHAM!

I feel a-

WHAM!

I-

WHAM!