by Troy Osgood
“We patrol the ridge,” Brient continued, motioning in the direction of the Breakridge, “but can’t see very far. It’s a good natural defense, but after the Trow attacks a couple of months ago, we should probably start keeping a better eye on the plains.”
Hall nodded. He had been thinking along the same lines. The watchtower being constructed on the mountain had a good view south along the Thunder Growl Mountains and could look out into the plains beyond the ridge, but wouldn’t see anything near the ridge itself. Having some kind of watch on the ridge would be vital in the future.
“You’re thinking some kind of watchtower on the ridge is more important than the mountain,” Hall guessed.
It was Brient’s turn to nod. “In an ideal world we’d have both at the same time, but…” He left the rest of the statement hanging.
Things in Skara Brae had improved drastically production-wise, but were still not ideal. The Valedale Gnomes, who had been instrumental in helping Duncant with all the carpentry projects, had mostly returned to their home in the forest to make their preparations for winter. It was still a couple of months away, but that time would flow past quickly.
Skara Brae still needed more citizens. But that brought another problem. They were already pretty close to the maximum capacity the city could have. As a Rank II Settlement, Skara Brae could only have one hundred citizens before it would need to be expanded to a Rank III Settlement, which required some stipulations that Hall wasn’t sure they would be able to meet. The biggest was owing fealty to a Rank IV or above Settlement. There were none nearby. The closest being Silverpeak Keep and Green Ember, home of the Brownpaw Firbolg. He wasn’t sure Green Ember was Rank IV, and there was no way he would swear fealty to Silverpeak Keep.
It seemed Skara Brae would remain stuck at Rank II with a maximum of one hundred people.
That wasn’t the immediate problem if they brought on more citizens. Only at forty-one citizens now, there was plenty of room to grow.
The problem was there wasn’t physical room to grow. Skara Brae, as it was currently laid out, could not physically house one hundred people. They could easily build homes in the meadow, but that had drawbacks, and Hall didn’t like the idea of making what would become two smaller villages. Already the barns and smithy, along with the airship docks, were out in the meadow, built near the mountains, but still a couple of miles away from the village proper. Meadow Ridge wasn’t that large, but Hall still didn’t want to get too spread out.
“What do you have in mind?”
“The ridge is long, it’s straight, but the mountains move out to block views down the sides from the ends. I think a series of three small outposts, not very tall towers, just places for guards to watch the plains. One on each end and another in the middle.”
Hall nodded. The idea had merit, seemed reasonable.
“With a gate.”
Hall stopped walking, glancing at Brient, who just shrugged.
“Breakridge is pretty much unclimbable for most of the length, and the road is the only good way up. Makes some sense.”
Hall just stared at him, working through all the angles. His eyes widened. A gate at the top of the road was only useful if there was no other way over the ridge. The ridge was over a mile long; a gate would only stop wagons from coming up, nothing else. Not unless there was a wall.
“We’re not building a wall along the ridge.”
Brient chuckled. “Worth a try,” he said with a smile. “I would like the three towers.”
“Work with Duncant on some plans and the materials,” Hall said, stopping. They had come to the inn, where Hall was living. “We’ll add it to the list.”
Brient nodded, continuing down the road only wide enough for a single wagon to pass. The sheriff had claimed a home near the main ramp leading down from the meadow. He kept his office there. Hall had chosen to stay in a room in the inn. Let the others have the houses. He was fine with the room.
For now, anyways.
Hopefully someday the inn would have regular travelers, and Hall would need his own place. Maybe a true guild hall or adventurers’ hall somewhere in the meadow?
He pushed the thoughts away, mentally adding it to the list.
Chapter 3
The next day was beautiful.
Hall found himself working in the fields. Leigh hadn’t shown up for dinner or the evening, but that was somewhat expected. It wasn’t often they found time to fall asleep together in the same bed. For some relationships that would be harmful, but not for theirs. If anything, it just strengthened their bond. Made the times they did spend together that much better.
The wind blew across the meadow, gentle and cooling. The sun high in the sky, bright but not hot. A perfect day to be farming.
Or attempting to.
Hall had discovered that he wasn’t a very good farmer.
Instead he helped out with the manual labor, doing whatever Dinah and the others required of him. Being the lord of a village Skara Brae’s size kept him busy. There was always something that needed doing, but it mostly wasn’t administrative. Timmin handled all that. It left Hall with plenty of time to help out in the rebuilding efforts or the fields. He spent a good amount of time exploring the lands outside his borders. The mountains and the plains.
His maps were becoming more detailed. Between Bradberry and himself, mostly Bradberry, they were doing a very good job of mapping the region. Hall had managed to gain a full point in Cartography because of it. Currently at 20.9 in the skill, he had gained +1 to Intelligence and rank three in the skill, now a Journeyman.
He let the heavy stone fall to the ground, joining more in a large pile that was spreading out over the meadow. Today he was helping clear what would become the new field, where Dinah hoped to grow corn the following year. It was too late in the season to grow anything in the field now, but they wanted to get it ready. Once cleared of the grass, numerous rocks had been found. Hall had groaned, but it had made the ranchers happy. The rocks needed to be cleared and could be used to build stone walls around the various pastures, helping separate the animals and keeping them from wandering.
The few cows in the first completed pasture always looked annoyed whenever Angus walked by.
Hall stretched, arching his back, arms out wide.
Clouds drifted by overhead, blocking out the sun. The islands above cast odd shadows across the fields. Small movements caught his eyes. Pike and Talon in flight. Hall wasn’t sure, but there was something odd about their flights. They weren’t circling or playing; instead both dragonhawks were soaring to the southwestern edge of the meadow, where the Thunder Growls ended at the edge of the island.
A sharp sensation stabbed into Hall’s brain. He recognized it as Pike shouting at him. Something potentially dangerous had caught Pike’s eyes.
Hall activated Shared Vision.
Immediately his vision changed. He was no longer looking up into the sky; now he was looking down into the meadow. Sharp eyes saw great detail at a distance. It didn’t take Hall long to find the scrambling forms. He asked Pike to fly closer. With a great beat of his wings, the dragonhawk soared forward.
Unlike the Frost Tips to the north, which ended at the island’s edge with a sheer cliff, the Thunder Growls sloped down to the edge. Not a gentle slope but one that was navigable. Hall hadn’t worried about anything coming that way because beyond that mountain there was nothing. For most of their length, the Thunder Growls ran right up to the edge of the island, barely any flat ground, just the steep slopes before the towering peaks. Nothing lived along that strip of land.
Hall thought of the odd village built into the mountainside they had seen on a trip to Silverpeak Keep. He had always wanted to return and explore what had appeared to be an empty village. But there just hadn’t been time. It apparently wasn’t as empty as he thought.
He recognized the creatures.
They were called Duntins, or Red Caps. Distant cousins to the Dwarves. The most feared pirates in the skies of Hankarth. Maste
r shipbuilders, even beyond the high skill of the Dwarves, the Duntins raided the shipping lanes without mercy. They each wore a red hat said to have been washed in the blood of their enemies.
Hall wasn’t sure if he believed that part, but he had run across the Red Caps many times pre-Glitch. They were dangerous opponents. Aside from the skeleton they had found outside a cave, which his first treasure map had led him to, he had yet to encounter them in his new life.
Could that treasure chest have something to do with why the Duntins were here now? It had been a Duntin cache they had stolen, getting a lot of good gear as well as jewels that would eventually go to help pay for his airship, the Ridgerunner. If so, how had the Red Caps found him? The cave had been on Cumberland, another island.
It didn’t matter why. The Duntins were raiding his land.
Each of the creatures was about four feet tall, all male. They were shaped like Dwarves but thinner, not as bulky. There was still great strength in their arms, which were a little too long. Their legs were a little too short, with large feet wearing heavy-looking boots that helped them maintain balance and grip on tilting ships and apparently steep rocky slopes. Their skins were different shades of a leathery tan, evidence of spending days in the sun with little shade. Long scraggly hair stuck out from the variety of red caps they wore. Stocking caps, skullcaps, berets. Each was different. All were bearded but none as thick as a Dwarf.
Hall counted two dozen of the Duntins swarming over the rocks and onto the meadow.
He dismissed the connection with Pike. Hall blinked, shaking his head, reorienting himself.
“Is everything okay?” a deep voice asked.
Hall turned to see Herklin, one of the Firbolg ranchers, nearby, a look of concern on the large man’s face.
“Raiders,” Hall answered, pointing to the southwest. “Coming out of the Thunder Growls. Duntins—sound the alarm,” he finished, already running to where he had left his gear.
Most times if he was working in the fields, Hall left his weapons and armor back in the village.
He was thankful this time he hadn’t.
His leather armor, battered and in much need of repairs, was back in his room, but his spear and sword were with him. Stopping at the small pile of gear, the weapons, food and water, he grabbed the sword and quickly belted it on. Grabbing the spear, he ran through the fields.
Behind him he heard the sound of a bell. Mounted to the top of the barn, a long pull cord hanging down, the sound could be heard in Skara Brae. There, someone in the village would ring a second bell, which could reach the edges of the Druids’ Grove.
He heard shouts from the fields around him, the few farmers all running for the barn. Skara Brae was in the middle of a wild and untamed part of Edin, weeks away from civilization. It had already been raided by the Stonesky Trow twice. The citizens knew what to do when the bell rang.
Who had been working the fields?
Dinah and Hitchly as always. Borklyn? The two new farmers from the Jaden Empire? Tusho and Daken? But were any of the fighters around?
All citizens were receiving lessons in weapons from Brient and Garrick, but most were just good enough to keep from hurting themselves. They weren’t supposed to be frontline defenders.
Hall cursed, afraid he was the only one nearby.
Had the four higher-level citizens left yet? Bradberry had wanted to go over the ridge and out onto the plains, heading north for a couple of days to map the mountains and see what lived that way. Scarlis was always eager to see what new plants and herbs she could find. Garrick and Brandif were adventurers. Exploring dangerous areas was what they did.
He passed the southwest corner of the last field, the grass of the meadow taller. It was a little less than a quarter mile to the island’s edge, maybe two miles to the village. It would be a long time before anyone arrived to help him.
Hall heard a screech, seeing the two dragonhawks diving out of the sky. Both pulled up, unleashing crackling bolts of lightning. Dirt and grass exploded; Hall heard the growls of pain. Stones streaked toward the dragonhawks, Pike flying away in one direction while Talon went in the other. More rocks followed. Hall couldn’t tell if they were just thrown or launched by sling.
Pike swooped down from behind the Duntins, coming in over the mountain. He didn’t screech, folding his wings for a faster descent. His lean body whistled through the air, undoubtedly drawing attention, but he was too quick.
Another bolt of lightning shot out, followed by a scream of pain.
Pike was gone, swooping away before the barrage of rocks could hit him. This left an opening for Talon, who came in low over the meadow. He screeched, launching another lightning bolt before pulling up.
Talon was too slow, a small rock clipping a wing. He twisted in the air, managing to recover and fly out of range.
Hall slowed, knowing the land started to slope down to the island’s edge. He crouched low at the top of the slope, letting the grass hide him, trying to get a better look at the Duntin raiders.
The group were crouched in a loose circle, backs to each other, watching the skies. Hall mentally connected with Pike, sending a message. He felt Pike’s understanding. There was a screech, followed by an answer from Talon. The Duntins were waiting for the dragonhawks to attack again, so they wouldn’t. Not yet.
But they would fly close enough to keep the Duntins’ attention. Both dragonhawks circled, screeching. The Duntins, red caps seeming to glow in the sun, growled and cursed, throwing stones that fell short.
Skill Gain!
Identify +.3
Roc Reaver Raider (white)
Roc Reaver Raider (white)
Roc Reaver Raider (white)
Roc Reaver Berserker (blue)
Hall only checked the ones closest to him. There didn’t seem to be any real high-level Duntins. The Berserker was noticeable as the only one who carried an axe, a giant two-handed weapon with a double head. The others all carried one-handed hammers, some with small buckler shields.
He quickly pulled up the guild interface, tabbing through the options. During the run through Greenfire Depths, he had realized late that he could add faction enemies for the guild, which would grant double experience bonuses. He wouldn’t make that mistake this time.
Crew of the Roc Reaver
You have designated the Crew of the Duntin ship the Roc Reaver as enemies of the Breakridge Irregulars. You will receive additional experience for each member of an enemy faction or clan that you kill in combat.
Hall smiled.
He shifted his feet, watching the angry Duntins curse at the two dragonhawks. With the layout of the Duntins, he came up with a quick plan. It was just him, for now, and he didn’t know for how long. There was no way he could take all the Duntins on himself, and he couldn’t let them get deeper into the meadow, where they could spread out and be hard to track down.
He had to attack and hold them here.
Skill Gain!
Strategy +.2
Taking a firm grip on his spear, Hall activated Leap.
He soared up high into the air, a long arc covering the distance in seconds. His Breakridge Spear stabbed as he activated Leaping Stab. The tip sank into the leather-armored shoulder of the closest Duntin, slashing through the hide. The special ability didn’t activate, the attack doing minimal damage.
Hall landed, using his Attack of Opportunity to stab out at the furthest Duntin, catching him in the back. He saw the notification flash across his vision. A critical hit. He pulled the weapon back, shifting his grip and activating Sweeping Strike. His Energy bar was down a lot as the weapon swung in a wide arc, scoring multiple slashes across the Duntins who had not yet turned to confront the foe in their midst.
He didn’t kill any of the Duntins, barely wounding them, but that wasn’t the purpose of the attack.
Activating Leap again, Hall jumped out of the circle as the Duntins all turned to attack. Hammers in hand, they swung at nothing. But now their backs were exposed, ro
cks no longer in hand. Pike swooped down, talons raking across the back of a Duntin. From the other side, Talon did the same. Both of their targets fell forward, deep gashes in the leather, blood leaking from the wounds. The dragonhawks spiraled around each other, going high before breaking apart. They dove sharply. Bolts of lightning flew out as they screeched in anger.
Crackling blue-white streaks of energy slammed into the two wounded Duntin. Smoke rose from the wounds, the smell of cooking flesh and the screams of the Duntin as they burned.
The dragonhawks turned at a sharp angle, flying away just over the enraged Duntins’ heads, disappearing into the meadow.
Red-capped heads looked everywhere. Searching for Hall, looking for the dragonhawks. Across the meadow, up into the sky, back the way they had come. They didn’t look up the mountainside, not thinking anyone could get up there that quickly.
Hall crouched low, one hand on the spear, the other clutching a rock outcropping to hold himself steady. Shifting his arm to hold the spear tight to his body, he stood up, leaning back against the mountain. Letting go of the rock, Hall pulled one of the small throwing knives from the bracer on his wrist.
Standing up from the ledge, taking the spear in his left hand, Hall held the small knife by the blade. He threw it, the weapon becoming a streak of energy as it flew through the air. The small blade slammed into the neck of a turned Duntin, sparks flaring on impact, a small whiff of smoke curling into the air.
The Duntin growled in pain, stumbling forward. Back to the mountain, he looked up to the shocked and surprised faces of his comrades, wondering what they were seeing. His shadow grew bigger, wider, longer, a thin line off to the side. It seemed to be growing as he watched. His eyes widened in pain and shock as he felt the sharp tip of a spear plunging into his back.
He fell to the ground, the weapon being ripped out. He screamed in pain, feeling his blood leaking out of the wound. He tried to move but couldn’t. Something had been severed. Something important. Able to lift his head, he saw the leather-clad Half-Elf land just in front of him. He commanded his arms to reach out, to grab the Half-Elf’s legs. But he couldn’t.