by A Uscila
Time limit: 20 minutes.
Without any prior notice a sudden quest popped up and knocked Wail off of his chair - as he quickly stood up, while hastily reading through the content. He couldn’t help but feel his heartbeat racing with each word read - eyes threatening to pop out of his sockets. Wail clenched his jaw with excess force, as tense muscles became visible on the sides of the face. Oh no, the game was not going to push him around like this. Not here, not now. Not again. Wail was done. Dealing with Willow was enough, let alone that little creature of hell. He was not turning into a freaking babysitter for a bunch of unruly outlaws.
Thus Wail hastily stormed past his confused underling and left the humble abode - stepping into the open field of his fort. Wail sure liked the sound of that - his fort. Possessive as always.
Either way, he did not need to look far - as an eye-catching gathering further away, drew attention. While approaching - the situation kept on getting cleared by the second. Loud phrases of obvious negative intent. Shouts, grunts, excessive cheering and the sound of bodies hitting the hard ground.
With a flick of fire, Wail quickly opened up tunnel towards the middle - only to find two of his men fighting. Most likely a domestic conflict - easily solved with a wave of the finger, a forced shake of the hand. Wail wasn’t interested in that sort of short-term solution though. Oh no.
This game was fucking him over. Playing him like some easy instrument - and it was time to take matters into his own hand.
“H-h-hey boss…we didn’t mean to cause a commotion…” - One of the infighters stammered, as he approached his former opponent with a terrified smile.
“Yeah, we were just playing around…we’re all good...” - The other one added, as the two hugged and patted each other on the back. Well isn’t that cute?
“Yes. Almost” - Wail quietly replied to that. More to himself than to the perpetrators - the fireball still floating in hand. Slowly, but surely - everyone seemed to be backing away, as Wail placed a piercing glare upon his two subordinates. It was quiet. Too quiet. No litany filled with morality, no lesson on interaction between coworkers.
Heck, all Wail needed to do, was to show himself and let his overwhelming negative reputation do the rest. And yet it did not seem like he planned to finish it up with just that.
“B-boss?” - One of the perpetrators spoke up again, still in a heartwarming embrace with his new buddy. Seems like by now, the two hugged out of fear of what might come next, instead of the need to prove their good intentions and a change of attitude.
A sudden flick of the hand - and the embrace just became much warmer, the two starting a little dance. Which involved a lot of screaming, running around and plenty of lightshows. Slowly, but surely the fire spread with the help of their dry, worn clothes, which was reinforced further by a couple of additional fireballs. The sight taken in with a completely cold and indifferent shimmer in Wail’s eyes. It’s as if he was mesmerized by the view - teeth still clenched with all the might his jaw could muster.
During all of this - some of the surrounding observers fell on their behinds, some ran - some wept. Some joined Wail in his activity - looking upon the view with a peculiar stupor.
Either way, Wail did not stop - until the two turned into nothing but ash, stomping out their remains for any monetary gain without a drop of regret or hesitation.
This was his way to stick it to the game. A game which looked down on Wail and his morality. A game that pushed him around, played him for a fool. Forced him into this kind of circumstance. Sure, he was quite rich now, so there was no need to complain. Yet it did not feel like all of it was achieved by his own strength. It felt more like everything was handed to him by hand - where all the effort that was needed from him - was to simply extend his hand and take it.
And Wail would have none of that. Even if he would lose everything here. Even if he would need to fight everyone present…he’d…
Congratulations! You have completed the quest An unexpected commotion in bandit heaven
Reward - Dramatically increased loyalty and fear factor of all the bandits serving under you.
A loud smack echoed throughout the open field of Wail’s fort - as he performed his usual reaction to all things annoying.
“I need a break…” - Wail mumbled under his nose, as the hand slid down to cover his face.
Chapter 26
Two lone columns of smoke spiraled upwards from a lonely wooden fort – squeezed in tightly in-between the thickly grown trees, an endless green stretching in every direction. Their source? The scorched remains of two bandits, with the executioner still looming over the done deed. Unmoving, Wail stood there with a palm still stuck to his forehead, his dangerously lean forearm glaring in a pale grey from within a loose sleeve. A few stragglers surrounded the scene here and there – some there out of interest, some out of simple fear induced stupor and some because they were passed out drunk.
“Macrosh!” - Wail suddenly shouted, finally granting freedom to the oppressed forehead - shouting with all the power his lungs could muster - which wasn’t a lot. Yet it was enough to startle all those around. Heck, it even woke a couple of the unconscious drunkards, as they shot up in a disorientated daze. No sight of the overbearing orc, though – the one whom the shout was actually intended.
Slowly, time passed by and everything returned to the usual state. Noise began resurfacing though the thick silence that loomed before, the surrounding figures returning to their usual bustling - traveling to and fro the fort.
During all that, the mage continued to stand around in the same exact spot, arms dangling at the sides as he looked up into the sky like some weirdo. Even though he didn't have to try very much to achieve a status like that. Maybe even no effort whatsoever was required, in fact.
It was in this state that Macrosh found the magician, marching towards him like a stampeding bull – dust and unsettled ground left in his wake. Before an anticipated crash could take place, though, the orc managed to halt his advance a mere meter away – spraying a handful of sand onto Wail’s feet. How disrespectful.
“You called, oh great one?” - Macrosh asked, after straightening up and giving a weird and completely uncharacteristic salute. Huge was a poor description of how large this specimen was. Heck, this fellow was the size of at least six individuals - of the same bodily structure of Wail, below. That’s right - below. That’s how tall Macrosh was.
Though his looks could use some improvement - the dark green tan to begin with. Unless that was his actual bodily color. In which case, body paint was back in fashion, or so Wail heard. But it is unlikely that adjusting the skin tone would be enough of an improvement, if the most glaring issue stared straight at you like a bloodhound – his face. A twisted-up mug of horror, with a nose that was bent in at least three places - which had a bigger resemblance to a potato than an actual nose. A scowling mouth with sticking out tusks, small beady eyes, thick black hair that dangled untidily down till his shoulders. Seriously - where did he put his helm? Wail could understand the reason why the orc carried it around everywhere. Since he probably scared everyone off in normal circumstance - which made it impossible to have a conversation. Did the damn orc actually feel a sense of kinship with Wail, due to the magician’s own looks? Was he just inadvertently insulted? Hmph!
Wail was forced to admit though – he kind of felt comfortable with his looks with the orc around as well. Guess the feeling was mutual.
“It's time to relieve some stress - tell me everything about the mine” – The mage verbally decided, a hand rubbing at the chin contemplatively – no doubt counting the probable profit - “Heck, you might as well show it to me”
“Of course, great one. But there's a matter that needs your immediate attention" - With a worried tone the orc countered - "You still haven’t given us any tasks to complete. People are starting to get really bored” - Macrosh complained - “And I mean really bored. A few of them gathered to watch ants crawl up trees” - He added whi
le pointing a thump behind. As if the group was just around the corner - which it wasn’t.
Wail didn’t like complains. Especially the kinds that come between him and money. His money. Yet - the kissing up was a welcome counter-balance, so he let it slide, this time - “Fine. You want work? I’ll give you work” - He replied in a snobbish manner. All that power was getting to his head - “Clear the damn trees around the fort. At least a hundred meters to all directions. Stack up the wood somewhere close enough. We’ll build more huts and proper fortifications. Also, dig up a well. Who ever heard of a wooden fort with a fire-wielding mage inside and no immediate water supply?” - Wail said in a nagging manner. A true stereotypical housewife.
“Heck, make sure our food supply is nice and diverse. Get some potatoes planted. I don’t care where” - Wail did have a thing for potatoes after all. Quite the wonderful plant - “And where the hell is that merchant you told me about?!” - He finished-up loudly, poking the orc’s chest with his lean finger. Most likely it felt like a mosquito bite to the overgrown brute.
“As the leader commands” - Macrosh replied in an overly-humble manner, after which a message popped up in the corner of Wails vision.
New tasks pending inspection
Which prompted an immediate inspection from Wail.
Tasks in progress - The bandit fort.
Clear the forest around the bandit fort.
Progress: 0% complete
Dig a well in the bandit fort.
Progress: 0% complete
Plant potatoes.
Progress: 0% complete
Quite an unexpected feature - which pleased Wail remarkably. Now he'll be able to directly observe the progress without being physically present at the site. It did take away the pleasure of carrying out due punishment for any slacking or falling behind. Collective punishment will just have to do. After all – Wail didn’t really care who to punish, as long as he could exercise his power in some twisted manner. A truly immoral character that Wail and possibly quite the slave-driver. He really did take great pleasure in the suffering of others.
“And don’t worry about the merchant, great one - he’ll be here” - The orc added, lifting up his bear-paw-like hands in defense - “It's been a while since he last visited us - and he does so at least once a month" - Honeycombing his excuses with hollow praise - "We're on very good terms with him and he offers us good prices, as well as news on what’s happening around”
"He better be. I have material possessions that need to be liquefied post haste. Though most of it has yet to arrive" - Wail complained in his usual grumpy tone, staring off into the horizon with a threatening glare. As if trying to transmit his mean-spirited thoughts to an unknown location - "And they better be on time…"
"Either way. Tell me everything about the mine. The matter interests me quite a bit" - With renewed vigor and any form of grumpiness or weariness all but gone - Wail turned to Macrosh. Fervent interest sparkling in his glaring eyes.
To the request Macrosh could only reply in surprise - taking his time before replying. As he scratched his forehead, words seemed to finally come-out - "A few months ago, we accidentally located an abandoned mine far to the north. Being a curious bunch - we investigated it and found that it still held ore inside. So after killing a bunch of goblins and other creatures - we decided to make some money out of it. Couldn’t have done it without a young lad that joined us not too long ago, though" - The orc went on enthusiastically, all the hesitation and lack of words long gone. For a moment or two - Wail even considered Macrosh to be a normal individual. At least on the inside. Though the memories of their first encounter quickly resurfaced and shattered the fleeting illusion.
"Well, be sure to introduce that " young lad" to me. I'll be sure to weight his worth personally" - Wail replied grumpily, almost visibly waving away the insignificance only to return on his interest - "Do our own work the mine or do you employ someone else?"
"Our own. We pay them a cut of the profits and they know that what they are doing is for the good of our little gathering" - The orc quickly replied without batting an eye. Seemingly persuaded by his own train of thought.
Wail on the other hand seemed to disagree - though only inwardly as he did not voice his doubts aloud. Seemingly in an unconscious gesture Wail raised a hand to the chin once again, only to retreat back to his inner mind - while his expression turned towards a darker one.
For a moment or two - the mage remained so, only to light up as if some light-bulb soon after.
"Are there any villages or towns in the vicinity?"
As if trying to visualize the surrounding - Macrosh tilted his eyes for a few moments before replying.
"Well there are a few villages and the town on the outskirts of the forest – a big one, since it’s the center of trade around here"
With a loud smack - Wail clapped his hands once - revealing a satisfied grin that served as one of his "evil mastermind" defining quirks.
"Fantastic. We'll raid those and will get free labor. Why use our own men on menial tasks when we can use a renewable resource that's right under our noses?" - As his voice rose - so did his demeanor as Wail lifted both of his hands in the air - smirking to himself like some wanna-be villain. Guess the fella was too absorbed in his own act - „We move out at once! Time is money after all!“ - A finishing wave of the hand - a finger pointing towards the horizon. If only Wail would notice all the looks he‘s getting...
Though surprisingly - most of those were actually filled with admiration and awe. Amazing.
*******
High up in the sky the sun blazed brightly with its’ magnificence - making the world a better place by searing the land to a dried out plain. Burning the eye-sight of those brave enough to look upon it. Forcing people to travel back home frequently - just to quench a momentary thirst.
During such an uncomfortable time of day, a caravan traversed the dusty road below - wiggling its’ way on the very edge of the forest, situated on the left.
Carts, wagons and coach-wagons trailed away in a long line - followed by dangerous attendants. Variously armed soldiers traveling afoot with a number of light cavalrymen accompanying them, a number of civilian-looking individuals intermixed in-between. Slowly the caravan continued its’ slow advance - burdened by its’ own weight and the heat of the sun. Seemingly - this outing went on for quite a bit, as everyone seemed exhausted from the arduous journey they undertook – covered in dust and grime, weariness reflecting in their expression. Other looked quite fine and dandy, as if the journey was nothing than daily routine to them. Routine with the possibility of unfortunate circumstance.
Very unfortunate circumstances.
Without warning - a swarm of arrows fell upon the caravan, falling in line with the piercing rays of the sun.
Numerous armed and unarmed individuals fell to the ground - dead, dying or wounded and crying in pain. Luckily - the swarm did not reach the caravan itself - sparing the horses responsible for all the hard-labor from an uncalled-for end.
Though most seemed caught unawares - it did not seem like a totally unexpected occurrence. As the caravan quickly stopped in its’ tracks and formed a straight line of shelter for the unarmed to hide behind. They guided the unmanned horses further away - so that they’d have with whom to pull the carts if things turned out for the better.
At the same time - a major part of the foot soldiers formed an effective shield wall and awaited the advance of the cowardly foe - while the cavalry retreated to a close distance, awaiting it‘s proper use in battle. No sane man would charge off into a thick forest with a horse and apparently - the company didn‘t have any crazy gooses in their mists.
As the caravan properly prepared for the assault and used its’ own archers that numbered in the tens - they started a counterattack, which relieved at least some amount of stress from the defenders. Still - every bit counted as the ragtag band defenders were deep in doubt and uncertainty of a possibly positive outcome. Since the atta
ck was carried out in seemingly larger numbers. Did not seem like it was about to end either - as the two sides exchanged arrows repeatedly - the assailants holding an obvious advantage.
Unexpectedly though - the volley of arrows that rained down from the forest stopped abruptly - in the same manner it started. Hopeful - the defenders loosed a few more arrows into the trees, as if to scare off any stragglers and make sure it was over. Slowly, all the noise died down completely, the only noise present being the snorting of unsettled horses, the occasional clamor of metal. A tension seemed to settle and many slowed their breathing in strained anticipation. All to hear even the most miniscule of sounds.
Sound they did hear indeed - a roaring clamor of steel and guttural screams, as the forest erupted in it - tearing apart the previous oppressive calm. So sudden was this concert - that the soldiers flinched - some of them dropping their weapons even. While a few even ran off into the fields beyond - like the cowards that they were. Abandoning their comrades to whatever fate came next. Their minds broken by the perfectly executed psychological attack - unable to take any more.