by Ugland, Eric
Finally, I reached the last jump. It was really more of a fall with a hard landing. About fifty feet.
I paused for a heartbeat, because I knew it was going to hurt. Even though I trusted my body’s ability to repair itself, there’s still something instinctually wrong about jumping from this high up.
As I saw the first hand reach the top of the cliff, I knew I was out of time. I had to do it.
I jumped.
And yes. It hurt.
My legs didn’t break, but I did dislocate my hips. And knees. And a multitude of smaller injuries all throughout my lower body.
I lay there on the stone, and just groaned for a while, reveling in the pain. And since combat wasn’t starting yet, my body started to pull itself together. That also hurt, by the way, but it also gave me a little wake-up pep.
As I got to my feet, I saw brutes hauling themselves over the edge. They were easily twice my size, both in height and width. In the mild light of the magical glowing stones inside the street lamps, they had a green pallor to their skin. Oblong sort of heads with small eyes, tiny nose holes, and large mouths. Twin tusks poked out from thin lips. No hair anywhere on their person, but they had rudimentary clothing, and weapons slung over their backs. Very basic things, like clubs, or clubs with spikes, or clubs with, you know, bumpy bits on them. Really, it was all variations on clubs. And unlike anything I’d seen previously from the Emerald Sea, these guys paused and were helping each other up. I decided it might be worth not being out and out hostile from the start.
“Hi guys,” I called out, walking over to them as genial as I could.
All eyes were on me instantly. Which reminded me that there were a lot of these guys, and I wasn’t exactly well-armed.
None of them said anything.
They just stared at me.
Another climbed up.
And then a second.
A third.
And quick count had me outnumbered fifteen to one. And growing.
“Not really the best entrance to the city, guys,” I said. “They really prefer if you use the gate. That way.”
I pointed.
They looked.
And then were back to me.
“Guys? Hello?” I said. “Can you talk?”
One of them grunted and took a big step forward, swinging his huge club at my head.
It moved through the air so fast I could not only feel the wind, but hear it.
I ducked.
Just fast enough to let the club sail over my head. The brute in front of me overextended and had to take a step so he didn’t fall.
For the barest moment, I considered letting the blow go by unanswered, to continue my attempt at a non-violent solution. But then I remembered where I was, and knew that my vision of everyone being chill with each other was a pipe dream that could wind up hurting other people. Which wouldn’t do.
While big boy stumbled, I pulled my little throwing axe out and did a cross-body backhand swing, right into his armpit.
The axe sunk into his flesh with barely any resistance.
He roared his disapproval, and with a single hand, slapped me away.
I went flying, truly impressed at the strength this motherfucker had.
I hit the ground with my back, then I kipped up to my feet, and held my hand out. The axe ripped out of the creature’s armpit and flew back to me.
I grabbed it and flashed a big smile at the boys, now up to eighteen.
“Okay,” I said, “I tried nice. I guess it’s time to dance.”
Then I charged.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Pro-tip: if all you have is a throwing axe, a charge is not going to be your best move. But in this situation, I needed to keep them off their guard because I was fighting multiple targets, and that meant I needed to take control of the space. I needed to dictate, as best I could, how we’d be moving, and what the speed of things was.
I went for the dude I’d injured, but it was a feint. As he set for my charge, I juked to the left and chopped low at the brute next to him, slicing through the creature’s thigh. I dove to the ground, rolling as a club thundered against the stone right where I’d been.
I got to my feet and did just the slightest jump in the air while chopping backward as hard as I could.
Axe met neck.
Neck lost.
The creature dropped as his brain stopped sending signals to the rest of his body.
By the time his head hit the ground, he was dead. I took a half-second to check the notification, to see what I was up against.
* * *
GG! You’ve killed a ghausegroux (lvl 22 magical monstrosity).
You’ve earned 750 xp! What a mighty hero you are.
* * *
A ghausegroux. Lovely. Putting the name to the ugly face made me feel a little better. I didn’t like mysteries.
The now-twenty ghausegroux spread out, forming a ring around me. Which was nice. At least they were enough afraid of me not to just run into the city. I think they realized that, as soon as they turned their back to me, I’d kill them.
There was a tense moment of stillness, and snow began to fall. I smiled at how fucking epic this was.
One man, standing in the snow, surrounded by a ring of monsters. I would have killed for some swelling music to thunder in the background. Alas, silence.
I flipped the axe a few times as I went around and around, trying to keep my eyes on all twenty — nope twenty-one — of the monsters.
They were waiting.
Which meant I needed to act. And I needed to figure out how to get them to work badly together. Otherwise I was toast. I mean, I was probably toast. Unless Czubakowski got to the Legion soon, or someone rang the damn alarm bell, I was on my own against the ghausegroux.
So I threw the axe.
It flew true, except the ghausegroux I aimed at had the presence of mind to put his stupid wood club in the way.
The guy laughed.
It was not a pretty sound. Like someone beating mugs of mucus-covered rocks together. I’m sure he thought he had the upper hand because I had no weapon.
Time to bring some martial arts experience to the world. I charged for the second time, catching him by surprise.
It also got everyone moving again.
I had to dodge an enthusiastic club swing, slide under another, and then I popped up and grabbed the twin tusks on Laughing Boy’s face. I hauled myself up by his tusks, and he bent down a little.
I got up on his head and dropped my knees around his ears. Then I wrenched my entire body to the side, leading with my hips, putting all my hundreds of pounds of muscle behind it. There was a grunt, some hesitation, then a sharp crack that seemed to echo across the walls. The guy dropped.
I rode him to the ground, grabbed his club from his dead grip, and lifted it. While it was heavy and crude, it was also usable. I’d done my time in Little League, so while the guy next to me was processing what happened to Laughing Boy, I wound up and swung for the fences.
He tried to get his club in the way to parry my blow, but either he wasn’t set or I just had more strength than him. I blew right through his defense, and slammed my club into his side, collapsing his ribs.
Grunting, he tried to lift his club in retaliation, but his arms betrayed him. I kept the swing going in a bit of a spin, and clipped the dude next to him.
It was devolving quickly into reaction fighting — there were just too many of the bastards for me to try and keep control of the fight for long, and I didn’t have any easy way to reset things.
I threw the big club, knocking a newcomer to the party off the cliff.
Another ghausegroux charged, thinking I was weaponless again. But when he swung, I just stepped into him, grabbed his arm, and threw him over my shoulder into his buddy. Then I held my hand out, and the axe soared my way. I snatched it from the air and threw it again in one clean motion, right between the shoulder blades of a big guy who was trying to figure out where I was.
>
I grabbed another club off the ground and slammed it into the next guy. Then I tried to push the attack, tried to get my club up and around the asshole in front of me, but he was just holding my attention while the asshole behind me swung down on my head.
There was definitely a heavy hollow clunk, the seeing of stars, and a momentary flash of blackness before my you’ve-had-so-many-head-traumas-we-don’t-count-them-anymore ability kicked in. Then it was just pain, not a loss of consciousness.
Big man thought it was going to be a game-ending blow, and he already stopped to gloat.
I spun and hit him on the side of the knee with my stolen club.
Pop went the knee-sel. Since his leg now lacked the structural integrity to hold up his bulk, he collapsed to the ground.
A quick golf swing, and his lower jaw tusks came out of the top of his head. Now there was one less enemy. Or fewer. Which, quick count, meant there were only about thirty to go.
“Fuck,” I said.
They weren’t coming up the cliff quickly, but they were still coming. An unending trickle of brutes.
Ultimately, I was playing for time, here. I wouldn’t be able to throw all these guys off the cliff on my own — I just needed to hold the line until the Legion mustered. Which they had to be doing, right?
I snuck a glance over my shoulder at the city. Nothing. A city in the midst of its evening routine, as if nothing was wrong.
The wind whistled as someone swung a club at me. I dropped to my knee on instinct, bending over so my head nearly touched the stone. The club sailed over my shaved head.
I popped up and spun around. The next ghausegroux was right there, all up in my business. He smelled like the woods. Which made sense, considering where these ghausegroux seemed to come from.
Had it been a man, I’d have head-butted him. But with this guy, I’d just end up hitting him somewhere in the middle of his muscled chest. Instead, I stomped on his insole.
He grunted in pain and picked up his foot. I gave him a shove, pushing him over. Then I jumped and gave the fucker two feet to the face, swinging for the fences as the next ghausegroux came for me.
I hit true, and his teeth glittered as they flew out of his face and clattered across the stone.
Hand out, I pulled the axe to me as I dodged out of the next incoming blow.
It was getting so that all I could do was act. Any sort of strategy went out the window as more beasts pressed in on me. Dodge, parry with a club, chop with an axe. Any time I started to try a move, there’d be something else to jump out of the way of. A bite, a swing, a punch, even some ineffectual and telegraphed kicks. These were not skilled fighters by any means — they were brutes who had not been pressed in, well, likely, ever. But they were big and could use rudimentary tools. Their lack of anything resembling skill was the only thing keeping me alive.
Finally, thankfully, I heard the thunder coming. The tromp of boots quick-marching together. The Legion appeared on the edge of the wall, lined up, and charged, leading with their long spears.
I just moved out of the way and let the charge happen. The phalanx nearly swept the ghausegroux off in their initial charge. There was one big asshole who managed to stand his ground, but a big asshole makes a big target, and I hit the back of his head with the throwing axe. It didn’t kill him, but it distracted him long enough for the Legion to finish him off.
I called the axe back to me, and slipped it into my belt. I felt the various injuries in my body pulling themselves back together, while I ventured to the edge and took a peek over.
Nothing moving on the cliffside. Another successful defense.
“Looks like we owe you a second time,” Czubakowski said.
“Nah,” I replied, “I’m just a tourist out taking a stroll. Saw some strangers who needed directions. You guys did the hard work.”
“You can save that for the ladies at the table,” he replied. “I saw what you did. How you did it, I have no idea, but I thank you.”
“Why were there no alarms?”
“I’m still trying to find out,” Czubakowski said. “I have yet to hear from either Overwatch position.”
“Maybe they fell asleep?”
“I might believe one of them could have fallen asleep, but both seems unlikely. Especially with how busy we have been.”
The Legion got busy cleaning up the corpses — in this case, dragging them to the edge and pushing them over.
“No use for them?” I asked.
“Too close to sapient to eat, too close to beasts to have any valuables.”
I almost asked the captain about the first thing he said, about sapience and eating. But he said it with such familiarity and surety that I knew it would be odd to ask about. It had to be something intrinsic to life here in Vuldranni. Or at least Glaton. Or, if not that, it seemed like something that I, as a person who had definitely grown up a native son of this planet, would surely know. I’d just have to remember to ask Nikolai later.
“Are you,” I started to ask if he was going back to the dinner. But I soon realized how much cleanup work there’d have to be, as well as investigating what happened with the scouts who didn’t send out the warning. No way he’d be going back. “Never mind. I’m just— I think I’ll head back to my hotel. Take a bath there.”
“You can take a bath at the Legion House, if you like,” he said. “Wouldn’t be any trouble.”
“I appreciate the hospitality, but you know, I’m just going to take a stroll on my own.”
“I’d tell you to be careful, but I doubt anyone is going to bother messing with you.” He clapped me on the shoulder, then turned and saw one of his soldiers doing something silly with a ghausegroux head. He snapped into boss-mode and marched over, yelling.
I thought about watching a good old-fashioned dressing down of the class clown, but decided I’d rather get to a bed, see about getting some real sleep. Or more food. Or both. Maybe a midnight snack in bed.
Regardless, given that my brain was darting all over the damn place, I decided to start walking.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
If you’re just going by aesthetics, Osterstadt is a really nice city. It looks good. It smells good (for the most part). It feels quaint. Don’t get me wrong — it’s a big place, but it somehow seems to renounce that feeling of bigness. Instead, it’s just like a town that seems to go on and on. I know that’s partly a feeling I got because I didn’t go to many of the industrial or commercial areas. I broke my time between the governmental and high-fallootin’ neighborhoods, each of which was intentionally pretty and nice. I’m sure the slums of Osterstadt didn’t feel great.
In fact, as I strolled through the wide-open streets and admired the well-lit homes and yellow street lamps, I remembered the hovel I’d pulled Zoey, my blacksmith, out of. I was forced to admit that, maybe, just maybe, I’d been letting the rose-colored glasses get to me.
All that said, I was enjoying my stroll. I wasn’t overly covered in gore, just a bit of blood and saliva on me from the fight. Most of the injuries inflicted, on both sides, were blunt-force trauma, which limited the viscera spread. Maybe I didn’t actually need need a bath.
But when I stopped at a small food cart, one of the few still going, a young woman in front of me turned around with a wrinkled nose and gave me the you-stink look. She didn’t get out of line, so I knew I wasn’t that bad. But still. probably worth a bath.
I got a thing called a diegplysa, or something along those lines. A spicy sausage wrapped in fried dough. It was delightful.
After three more, plus a flagon of mead, the cart-owner couldn’t help but shake her head.
“Never seen someone like my food so before,” she said.
She was older, but had a nice smile. A little white cap held her hair back, and he grey dress was grease stained but otherwise well-cared for.
“It’s been a long day,” I said. “A hungry day.”
“You been up on the wall, fightin’ with the bells?”
I nodded as I took a bite of my diegplysa. “Is it that obvious?”
“Got a bit of blood on you,” she said. “And your mail is showing through your doublet. More’n a few holes.”
I looked over my clothes, and she was right. I had quite a few new holes.
“Tough business that,” she said.
“You’re telling me,” I said.
She laughed again, flashing her fantastic smile. “Glad you’re still doing it though,” she said.
“It did seem a little, uh, lightly attended. Is that new?”
“Or a long time coming. Hard to say. I tend to keep myself out of that part of the city. Too easy to, well, it’s not great for business.”
“You’re unique. There are tons of street vendors up by the wall these days.”
“Only takes a single time for something to slip past the fighters—”
“That’s happened?”
“Oh yes. Few times. Hence why we got the Legion here.”
She took my tankard and refilled it from a wineskin. Or, I guess, in this case, a meadskin.
“Everything was incredible,” I said. “Thank you.”
I got the nice smile again. I finished my bonus mead, and passed the mug back over.
“Get back inside soon,” she said, already pushing the cart. “There is something hunting in the darkness.”
“You too.”
She was going a different direction than me, so I watched her vanish into the darkness as I took the last few bites of my fried dough sausage thing. Just taking a moment to be. I relished having the a little bit of quietude, time to stargaze, and let the world flow around me. Then I was began heading south once again, uphill and upmarket.
Not far from the square where I got my sausage, which certainly sounds like the start of an adult film, I came across another square. This one was smaller, but with a fountain in the middle. The water had been shut off, likely due to the snow, but there were more people there than anywhere I’d seen that night. One tavern seemed to be more active than all the rest — it was packed, with a crowd gathered outside. Curiosity drew me closer, and I caught strains of music. Something that was similar to a guitar, and a man’s voice singing a sweet melody. I peeked in over the crowd as best I could, and saw two men sitting on a table, playing music. Nice enough stuff that I listened for a minute from outside. Once they finished their song, I kept going.