When Autumn had first crafted her sleigh of bones, she’d not done so with war in mind. Its low walls and exposed interior had offered little to no protection for her friends and party as they’d escaped the drow city while under constant fire by arrow, bolt, and magic. Bloodstains and shattered bits of wood still littered the bottom of the craft days later as a testament to their harrowing ordeal.
Luckily, no one else besides Autumn had suffered more than light wounds during their flight, despite their lack of protection.
Even so, the lackluster design needed changing.
Something Autumn was more than willing to do. Not just because of the terrifying grim battlefield still fresh in her mind, but also because the sleigh’s amateurish construction embarrassed her every time she looked at it. To her slightly more experienced eyes, it looked lumpy, lopsided, and frankly, just downright ugly. Having inexpertly cobbled it together in a necromancer’s foyer with whatever mismatched pieces of dragon bone Liddie had brought back for her, it made sense.
It still made her unhappy to see it, no matter how she justified it.
So, over the next few days, Autumn roughly sketched out a few ideas in her notebook between her hellish early morning training and various chores Nethlia’d assigned her around camp. Using what she remembered about modern military and advice from Edwyn, she created a design that mixed the two in somewhat harmony.
Autumn was proud of what she’s created, even if it kinda looked like an APC (Armored Personnel Carrier) had a baby with a castle.
Elegant and ruthless were the words she was looking for.
Perhaps brutalist too?
With her design completed, getting a grunt of approval from Edwyn, Autumn got to work.
Laying her hand upon ancient bones, Autumn willed her blackcraft to warp and twist the calcic material into the shapes she desired.
The first thing Autumn did was siphon off the excess material, forming it into white spheres by her side.
As she’d a limited supply of the stuff, she needed to be judicious in her usage of it. As such, she and Edwyn had devised a triple-layered hull of bone, wood, and hide for their future wagon, both to stretch the supplies of dragonbone and to add greater protection than a single material could supply.
While Autumn would be the first to admit her knowledge of military history, technology, and tactics was embarrassingly lackluster, she was aware of the phenomenon known as Armor Spalling — the fragmentation of an armor’s interior produced via shockwaves from powerful concussive strikes propagating through said material, whether that was metal, wood, or in this case, bone.
Although she didn’t anticipate such an event occurring, it’d be foolish of her not to prepare for such, what with those giant creatures roaming about. Not to mention what magic could do.
Hopefully, using three layers of different materials would mitigate the danger.
As such, Autumn had sent Nethlia off once more, this time in search of lumber. Not a tough task.
Preferably, she’d take some from the non-feywild trees popping up here and there, but Autumn would take what she could get and deal with the consequences later.
While awaiting the wood, and with sleigh being down only to a hovering base, Autumn set to work creating the frame.
First, she reforged the thick bones into struts.
As the bone marrow had long since desiccated, there wasn’t much of a need to keep the now useless cavities. Autumn compressed the bones into themselves, making them even denser whilst still keeping the strong structural properties of the dragon bones as best she could. When she was done, Autumn was left with several long billets and heavy smooth panels of off-white bone.
Taking several billets, Autumn and Edwyn created a frame upon the hovering base, widening it till three abreast could stand comfortably upon it and five or so could do the same lengthwise.
Next, Autumn raised a heavy-duty frame up from the base.
She split the wagon’s walls into two halves horizontally at around waist-high. While the lower half was mostly perpendicular to the wagon’s base, if at a slight outward angle, the upper half turned sharply back towards a high roofline, beneath which even Nethlia could stand unimpeded, if barely.
The front of the wagon held a more aggressive slant to it, rising up and out like a thick wedge before too turning back towards the roofline, this time further above where the side walls had.
Autumn made a few minor adjustments to the frame before stepping back satisfied.
For a moment, she and Edwyn admired the rising behemoth before them.
“Dannae pat yerself on the back tae much, we ain’t finished yet,” Edwyn grumbled.
Autumn huffed out a breathy laugh before diving back in.
The next step was to add the heavy armored panels to the skeletal frame. However, as neither of them wanted to lug about needless weight, they unanimously decided to measure and cut out the doors, hatches, viewports, and arrowslits first.
There were four doors in total — one to either side of the driver, and a pair at the back. A hatch she added to the roof to let someone to engage fliers through or access any gear they wished to lash to the top. Next, Autumn carefully carved out a series of thin arrowslits equidistantly apart along the length of both sides for the party to fire out from with impunity.
To actually see where they were going, Autumn carved a long viewport along the width of the front, adding a small lip above to shield the driver from the sun, rain, or descending arrows and bolts. Gaps below the narrow window would feed reins down towards where they’d harness her bear to the wagon via a series of bone D-rings fused to the front.
With Edwyn advising her, Autumn made quick work creating the thick hinges and pins that’d keep the doors securely in place.
Autumn doubted the dragon bone pins made by her would ever break — they felt stronger than steel.
A simple latch on the insides would keep them locked tight.
When Nethlia returned, the trio swiftly hauled the heavy panels and doors into place, allowing Autumn to fuse them to the frame.
“She’s looking good,” Nethlia whistled as she gently slapped Autumn on the shoulder.
Autumn beamed with pride. “Yeah, we just need to do the inside now. Speaking of, how did you fare? No troubles?”
“Nah,” Nethlia shook her head of shaggy hair. Pointing a thumb over her shoulder, the demoness gestured to a small pile of felled trees. “I just grabbed the ones your bear marked before. I figured, if nothing bothered it, nothing would bother me.”
“Except, you bothered it.”
Nethlia let out a bark of laughter. “True, true. Want me to debark it for you? I’ve got some experience fixing up my old tavern.”
“Could you?” Autumn beamed. “My magic would only turn it to mulch, I’m afraid.”
“Sure, but tomorrow — you’ve been hard at work all day. Edwyn’s already vanished off towards the cookpot. You should too before you collapse.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Autumn’s stomach took that moment to declare its discontent with her. A fiery blush bloomed across her pale face at the monstrous noise.
“See?” Nethlia teased.
“Shut it you!”
Chuckling, Nethlia led Autumn towards the warmth of fire and food. Once they both were seated with a dinner of bear sausages and roasted vegetables, the demoness turned questioningly to Autumn.
“Hey, I was wondering — how are you planning to hold the boards in place once I make them? Are you going to make bone nails or something?”
Autumn swallowed her bite before speaking. “Yeah actually. That, and I was going to mold the bone around them. That way, we can replace them later if we need to.”
“What, don’t trust my amazing carpentry skills?” Nethlia gave a gasp of mock-offense.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Autumn aggrievedly nudged Nethlia.
Beside her, Ursa Ossa gave a deep, rumbling whine for attention.
Idly, Autumn reached over and scratched him behind his rounded bone ears.
In between making her war-wagon, she’d used some of the excess material to mold a faceplate onto the bear’s skull, building it up to resemble a living bear, complete with rounded ears and long snout. Over time, she planned to add more detail to it, just for fun and practice.
“Hmm, sure you didn’t.” Nethlia chuckled at Autumn’s pout. “By the way, how many crossbows and bolts did you end up grabbing? I don’t think you’ve said.”
Autumn hummed, mentally recounting. “I’d have to check to make sure, but I think it was about twelve crossbows and quivers. Each quiver had about ten to fifteen bolts in them, I think. So, roughly 120 to 150 bolts total. Other than them, I grabbed five swords, about ten knives, and four whips. That, and the poisons, but I already gave them to Pyre.”
“Good haul,” Nethlia smiled wryly. “However, I don’t know if the bolts will stretch that far.”
“True. We do have a lot of enemies.”
With a grunt, Edwyn sat down near Autumn with a heaping plate in hand, giving a wary look to Ursa Ossa as they did so.
The bear huffed back at the Manus.
“Good work today,” Edwyn grunted between bites. “Have ye thought o’ a name for it yet?”
Autumn blinked. “A name? I thought that was only for ships.”
“For ye aboveground folk maybe, but us deepfolk dinnae have a navy. Oh sure, we got riverways in the deep, but we keep tae the deeproads most o’ the time. And tae traverse ‘em safely, ye need a convoy wit’ cha. Convoys wit’ war-wagons tae guard ‘em,” Edwyn waved a sausage for emphasis. “Those we name, for luck ‘n’ such.”
“Any good ones?” Nethlia asked.
Edwyn hummed. “The names we give ‘em tend towards things found in the deep — Goblin Crusher, Trollbane, Rock ‘n’ Stone. That sought o’ thing. As its creator, it’s up tae the witch tae name it.”
“Have you been on many expeditions underground before?” Autumn asked curiously.
“A few,” Edwyn hedged. “Back when I was still wit’ my clan, they funded a fair number o’ ‘em tae seek out lost artifacts ‘n’ treasures in the ol’ ruins ‘neath Grudge Mountain and the Ironspine. The last o’ which I was wit’, I found a book o’ ancient runes left by an ancestor, may they work forever in Ondite’s halls.” Edwyn made a gesture of respect, touching the back of their fist to their brow.
“Is that what led you out here? To the north?” Nethlia asked.
A sour look scrunched the Manus’ face. “Nae, twas not a choice o’ mine to leave the mountains. I was banished.”
“Banished?” Autumn echoed.
“Aye. Banished,” Edwyn grumbled with a voice like a landslide as they glared into the fire. “My clan is—was the Brawnbeards. Not a clan well known for their love o’ magic. In fact, they vehemently oppose it ‘n’ its like. They offered me a choice — either I gave up the runes or be banished. I chose banishment. The day I left, I swore an oath, a grudge, tae ne’r return unless the clan gave up their foolish disdain for magic and rescinded my banishment or I died.”
Edwyn chuckled mirthlessly. “Neither has come tae pass yet.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It is wit’ it is,” Edwyn shrugged. “Been a long time since I’ve seen the halls beneath.”
“Do you want to go back someday?” Autumn asked.
Edwyn stared into the fire for sometime, before simply shrugging. “Like I said, it’s been a long time. Anyway, ye come up with a name yet, lassie?”
Autumn hummed a tune beneath her breath as she thought, not minding the abrupt change in topic. “Unopposed under crimson skies; Immortalized, over time their legend will rise~ And their foes can’t believe their eyes; Believe their size, as they fall~ And the dreadnoughts dread nothing at all.”
“How about — Dreadnought?”
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The next morning saw Autumn finishing her now aptly named Dreadnought, having clad its interior with a thin layer of wood and hides.
Along the walls, in between the arrowslits, she added a series of smooth hooks to mount their crossbows and bolts within easy reach. While below the wooden floor, she’d also added a small hidden compartment to hold their gear. Anything too large to fit, they’d simply tie to the roof and hope for the best.
Dragonbone. Feywood. All they needed now was a legendary beast’s hide, and they’d have the trifecta.
Autumn wondered what it’d be, so sure she was that they’d encounter and kill such. Such was their luck. For good or for ill.
The very last thing Autumn did was to sketch out the start of a mural along the smooth surface of the exterior. A mural that depicted their trials, tribulations, and triumphs — their departure from Duskfields on a glorious adventure. The burning of Everwatch. Hiding from the Fey-dragon. Their vanquishing of Lord Grungee the Honorable. The assault upon the goblin fortress and their fall at the claws of the Swamp Tyrant. Of their journeys through the darkness — finding the Tower of Bone and Black-iron and the hell within.
Autumn sketched her decapitation of the undead angel with a sense of pride and detachment. She gazed over the memories lightly scratched into the bone with wonderment.
Look at how far they’d come—how far she’d come. And look how much blank space remained.
Eme found Autumn soon thereafter, as she was sketching their journey through the Feydark. It didn’t look like much right now, but maybe one day it’d be a work of art marveled over by many.
“Hey Autumn? Are you busy? There’s something I want to show you.”
Autumn turned away from the mural, favoring the catgirl with a questioning look. “Sure, what’s up?”
Eme’s eyes flickered up in confusion before snapping back to Autumn. “I found something interesting outside camp I wanted to show you. Come on!”
“Is it dangerous?” Autumn asked, tucking her pencil behind her ear as she brushed the dust off herself.
Eme shook her head hastily. “No, no. It’s just a surprise, is all. We won’t go far! Please!”
Autumn smiled in fond amusement as the bard unleashed her grade-A puppy dog eyes on her. “Alright, alright. Put those weapons of mass cuteness away. I’ll follow you.”
“Yay!” Eme cheered before shushing herself.
Furtively, the catgirl bard led Autumn through the camp, ducking behind tents and other such objects to avoid the others seeing them. Not very well, it seemed, as Nethlia quirked an eyebrow at Autumn as they hid near her. Autumn simply shrugged. With an amused huff, Nethlia pretended not to see them as they snuck away from camp.
To Autumn, they felt like a pair of teens ducking away from class to make out behind the bike-shed. Not that she had any experience with that, sadly. God, she hoped that was what this was.
Speeding up slightly, Autumn followed Eme as she led them further away from camp into the trees. Not far. Still in earshot, in fact, but just far enough away to be out of sight.
Eme paused before a thick fern, nodding to herself. Turning to Autumn, she pressed a finger to her smiling lips before pointing past the vegetation.
Curious, Autumn approached. Pushing aside the fern, she saw a strange, wondrous sight.
Hundreds of brightly-clad pixies flitted and frolicked through the air in cheerful displays around a pair astride bees the size of Autumn’s fist. As she watched, the bee-riding pair charged at one another with squeaky war cries, leveling sticks towards the other. When they crashed, the gathered pixies cheered.
It was a pixie tourney, Autumn realized.
“What do you think they’re doing here?” Autumn whispered.
Eme leaned in closer to Autumn as they watched the aerial jousting. “I think they’ve been following us. Maybe using us for protection? Or just entertainment?”
“Huh, kinda like pilot fish?”
“I suppose?” Eme shrugged. “Whatever those are.”
“They’re small fish that follow in the wake of larger fish like sharks.” Autumn explained as she found a nearby root to sit upon. She pulled a startled catgirl onto her lap as they watched the pixies. “Do you get sharks here? Big predatory fish with lots of jagged teeth.”
“I know what a shark is,” Eme huffed. “I grew up on an island, remember? I just didn’t study every little fish there is.”
“I’m just surprised how many things translate over between worlds. Divine inspiration, maybe?”
Eme shrugged, “maybe.”
Autumn sat watching the fairy festivities for a while. “Thanks, I needed a break, I think.”
In her lap, Eme blushed shyly. “I know — you’ve been pushing yourself really hard the last few days. Not that I’m judging you or anything — I understand the danger before us, but I thought this might be fun.”
Autumn squeezed Eme gently. “It is. Thank you.”
“Um, you’ve been asking people a lot about whether they want to go home or not,” Eme shyly asked, turning to face Autumn. “Do you? Want to return to your home, that is?”
Sighing quietly, Autumn gazed into Eme’s eyes before turning to gaze out at the cheering pixies.
She didn’t answer.