by Pirateaba
And now the army was coming back, or at least, a small taskforce to help out with the Goblin situation. Olesm shuddered. He didn’t have to be a [Tactician] to predict that there would be trouble if the Goblins were still in Erin’s inn when they got there. They’d cause trouble.
Actually, they’d cause trouble even if the Goblins were nowhere to be seen. They always did every time they came back. And the commanders in Liscor’s army made Zevara look relaxed. She was relaxed compared to how they did things.
“And there I was, broken sword in hand, staring down a damned [Blademaster] with an enchanted bastard sword of his own. I backed up and looked around but there was no help coming. Fortunately, I had been given a ring by my mother for my first battle, so I raised it and twisted it—the very ring you see here—and…”
Everyone seemed to be hooked on Ilvriss. Olesm’s [Tactician] senses told him now was an ideal moment. He carefully lowered his mug and poured the rest of his drink onto the floorboards underneath the table. No one noticed; quaffing had been undertaken earlier this morning, and the room was already messy.
Drinking in the morning. Olesm shook his head. Half of the Drakes here would have to get to work. The rest, like Ilvriss, probably had livers made of steel because they’d be drinking and talking all day if no one interrupted him.
Then again, that was their right. They were high-level [Warriors], experienced soldiers, and veterans of numerous battles all. The Drakes who surrounded Ilvriss at all times could lead armies with the Lord of the Wall. Olesm felt small around them.
And yet, Ilvriss kept telling him he was a prodigy. Which was actually warranted, Olesm knew. He was a Level 27 [Tactician]. And he’d been Level 22 a few months ago. Olesm could hardly believe it. That kind of leveling was insane outside of wars. It was probably one of the reasons why Ilvriss had taken an interest in him.
But prodigy? It might be fair to say, but Olesm didn’t feel smart at all. He might be Level 27, but Erin had reached Level 30 in the same amount of time. From Level 1. From nothing. Remembering that, it wasn’t hard to stay humble. Meek.
Absently, forgetting he’d already gotten rid of his drink, Olesm raised his mug to his lips. Ilvriss noticed the Drake blinking into his mug and raised his voice.
“What’s this? Done so soon? Good lad! Another round for young Swifttail!”
“Oh, no, please—”
If he had to down another mouthful, Olesm thought he might actually puke. He waved a hand and Ilvriss laughed again.
“Don’t be so modest, young Swifttail! We’re drinking in part to celebrate you! A Level 27 [Tactician]? When I was your age I hadn’t reached Level 20! Soon you’ll be a [Strategist], and when you are, you’ll truly be a person of influence in your own right.”
He waved a hand expansively at the two [Strategists] that were part of his own retinue. Olesm had met the male and female Drakes—they were a married couple—and he ducked his head at them, noting their approving smiles. They treated him like a son as well.
“You’re too kind, Wall Lord.”
“Am I? Am I? Perhaps. But if I am, it is only because I recognize talent. A [Strategist] may be essential to every army, but they are hardly common! You could join any army with that class. I know you’re a citizen of Liscor, but it would be a shame to waste your abilities in a mercenary army, even one as acclaimed as Liscor’s. When the day comes that you reach that level, I hope you might consider moving to Salazsar. The Walled Cities have need of fresh minds like you.”
This was beyond a compliment. Olesm went red, and the table of Drakes laughed. He stammered, trying to change the subject.
“I uh, I’m not sure I’m that close. Is [Strategist] that simple of an upgrade from [Tactician]? I thought it was a Level 40 class, at least.”
That was a flat lie, but Ilvriss took the bait.
“Level 40? Hah! What prank have you fallen for? [Strategists] are Level 30. Or…I’ve heard they can be lower if you combine a military rank with the [Tactician] class. A Level 20 [Tactician] and a Level 10 [Sergeant] or something, you understand? But that’s a shortcut. A diluted achievement. Young Olesm’s pure.”
There was a slur in his voice. He was already drunk. Another Drake, an obsequious [Merchant] who always flattered Ilvriss, raised his own mug.
“Hah, yes! A pure young Drake. We should be careful we don’t sully his youth before he gets a taste for the world. Young Olesm here needs to taste more of life’s pleasures before he enters politics, Wall Lord. More drink, more time in battle…and in bed, I should wager!”
Ilvriss howled with laugher and banged on the table with the others. Olesm rolled his eyes and twitched his tail irritably. There had been a lot of talk like that. Olesm hadn’t ever taken part in a war, so to all the veterans he was fresh-tailed, and they made jokes at his expense.
It was time to go. Olesm knew he shouldn’t play this card too often, but he had a job to do today so it was a legitimate card. He pushed back his chair, bowing apologetically to Ilvriss.
“Much as I’d love to drink, I’m afraid I really do have pressing obligations, Wall Lord.”
“Ah. I’d forgotten.”
Ilvriss paused and scowled, as if the bright sunlight streaming into the room were an afterthought. He glanced at Olesm impatiently.
“Can’t you postpone whatever needs doing?”
Olesm made an apologetic face.
“I’m afraid not, sir. I…it would be wrong of me to abandon my post, no matter how honored I am to be here. I must stick to my duty.”
Something changed in Ilvriss’ face as he listened to Olesm’s careful words. Quick as lightning his mirth disappeared. He lowered his mug, and Olesm saw the other Drakes around him quiet down and watch the Wall Lord warily.
“Duty? Ah, if duty calls one must obey, mustn’t they? But be cautious, young Olesm. Duty is a harsh mistress and she asks much. Death walks with you, and sometimes it cannot be avoided. Even if you had known—even if—”
He broke off and looked into his mug, all the mirth of a moment ago lost. Olesm exchanged glances with the other Drakes sitting around the table.
Wall Lord Ilvriss had been maudlin recently. Ever since the battle with Regrika Blackpaw and the other Gold-rank traitor, Ikriss. He was prone to snapping at others, drinking to excess, and fits of melancholy—not too different from his usual self, in other words. But the sadness was new.
Someone had to bring him back to his good spirits. This time it was Peslas. The [Innkeeper] hurried over with a hot plate of grilled fish and a mug of wine.
“Yes, to duty! Young Olesm must go, but surely you have more tales to tell, Wall Lord? I’d be grateful to hear more—it’s not often a legend sits in my inn!”
Ilvriss brightened a bit as he saw the food. He accepted plate and mug and nodded as all eyes fell on him again.
“Well, I suppose if I must—go, Olesm. I’ll remain here. As for stories, if that’s what you want Peslas, I have one about my finest subordinate. Periss. She was—a warrior and leader beyond repute. I remember the day I first met her. She’d downed a Wyvern. By herself! I was in my tent and I heard about a patrol that had been ambushed by monsters, so I rushed out and saw her there…”
Olesm backed out of the inn, grateful for the reprieve. Besides, he really did have a job to do. He was Liscor’s dedicated [Tactician], after all. Every Drake city needed one and Olesm worked hard at his job. True, there wasn’t always work to do, but recently there had been a lot. So much so that he’d only gotten the issue of the dungeon today. Or more specifically, what lived in the dungeon.
—-
Shield Spiders. Crypt Worms. Various undead. Enchanted suits of armor, Bog Wraiths, a trap full of Face-Eater Moths, giant infested slugs, the Children, the lists went on. Olesm was privy to almost every report that went to Watch Captain Zevara and other members of the Council and so he knew that Liscor’s dungeon was host to a huge variety of very nasty monsters.
Some were documented, others were variati
ons on known threats. It was an adventurer’s job to handle them, and Olesm’s only input into the situation with the dungeon was to consult with Zevara about containing any threats that escaped from either the Dungeon’s official entrance or the rift in the snow. Plans were already being made to set up a more permanent set of fortifications around both.
However, there was one variety of monster that had been spotted by the teams going in and out of the dungeon’s rift that were… concerning. Among the monsters that roamed the maze of trapped tunnels were groups of Goblins and strange, Gnoll-like monsters who used weapons and fought with brutal efficiency.
The first group to encounter them (and survive), Vuliel Drae, had brought back several heads. Olesm had inspected them and they certainly looked similar to a Gnoll’s. However, the heads were far larger, sported vicious canines and apparently came from bodies far bigger than any Gnoll had a right to be.
The Adventurer’s Guild hadn’t been able to identify the monster when they’d sent the image of the head to other guilds for analysis. However, several of the older Gnolls had reacted strongly to the heads but refused to say what they’d recognized. Thus, it fell to Olesm to tactfully ask what these not-Gnolls were about.
He decided to go to Krshia, since he knew her the best and she was one of the leaders of the Gnolls in the city. Olesm rubbed at his head and swerved down the street, greeting Drakes and Gnolls he knew as they waved to him. The Gnolls sniffed and remarked about drinking so early; Olesm grunted about Ilvriss and they only laughed.
The Gnoll [Shopkeeper] wasn’t at her stall today, which was unusual. Olesm had to ask where her apartment was. Thankfully two other Gnolls at the small marketplace were able to direct him.
They knew him of course; Gnolls were very conscious of figures of authority and Olesm had made it a point to consult with the Gnolls who represented the unofficial figures of authority in Liscor. It was a shame none of them had a place on the Council; a few Gnolls might nicely balance out the idiots who thought with their tails.
Unlike Erin, Olesm didn’t regularly visit Krshia. In fact, he’d been staying away from both Erin and the Gnoll recently. Olesm still felt guilty about telling Regrika about Ryoka. That had led to Brunkr’s death, and, it seemed, Ryoka’s disappearance. He knew it was impossible to have known that Regrika Blackpaw, the famed Named Adventurer, was a murderer, but still. Olesm hesitated in front of Krshia’s door for several minutes before he reluctantly knocked.
The apartment was silent for a long time. Long enough that Olesm was turning to go when he heard someone shuffling towards the door. He waited, and Krshia slowly pulled the door open. She blinked at him and he stared up at her.
“Um, good morning, Krshia. Are you well?”
She didn’t look well. The Gnoll was barely dressed and she had bleary eyes and disheveled fur. She looked terrible, in short. Olesm cleared his throat as he glanced into her apartment. It too was a mess.
“I ah—I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but I was hoping I could speak to you as a representative of the Gnolls in Liscor. I wouldn’t want to intrude if you’re occupied, however…”
Only now did he realize he might be intruding on her grief. But Krshia blinked at Olesm and seemed to wake up a bit. She shook herself, and then nodded.
“I—hrr. Yes. As a representative, you said? What is this about? Come in—let me freshen myself and put on tea.”
She invited him in. Olesm was hesitant at first, but Krshia seemed glad of the company. She rushed about, clearing a space on the sofa—it looked like she’d been sleeping there—and putting on some of the spicy Gnoll tea. When she sat across from him and offered him some sliced raw meat, she looked a lot more awake than before, and curious, too.
“It is not often that Olesm Swifttail comes to my residence on official business, yes? That is what this is, yes? Has the Council decided something, or is this more informal?”
“It’s…formal, but not related to any decision the city has made.”
Olesm carefully chewed at the meat and sipped from his cup, grateful for both after drinking. Krshia nodded encouragingly and he went on, watching her expression carefully.
“I believe you have heard about the reports from the dungeon, Miss Krshia? Part of my job involves identifying monsters who may be threats to the city, particularly if they are unknown. And a recent team that went into the dungeon recovered several, uh, heads of a strange creature they claimed was fighting in tandem with Goblins. They um…”
The Gnoll’s forehead wrinkled and Olesm broke off. Krshia hummed to herself and nodded. Now there was a sharpness to her eyes that Olesm recognized with relief.
“Ah. I see what this is about. You wish to ask about these creatures which resemble my people so much.”
“Yes. Yes, the other Gnolls wouldn’t talk about it. However, if these—these creatures are a threat, or worse, are related to Gnolls—”
“They are. Both threat and related. It is an uncomfortable topic among my people, Olesm. Many of the young do not know of these…things. But I saw one of the heads and yes, I do know what they are.”
“Ah. Would you be willing to share your information? I promise, we only need tactical data, not anything—”
Olesm broke off delicately and Krshia shrugged.
“Tactical data? I do not know if it will help, but the story is only uncomfortable, not taboo. I will relate it to you. If you have time?
“Please, I would be most grateful.”
Krshia nodded with a slight smile. She sipped at her cup and chewed on more slices of meat. Her stomach rumbled a bit and Olesm wondered if she’d had breakfast. He took another slice, chewing appreciatively. Gnolls liked their food to be eaten when they offered it. A full bowl of snacks after a discussion was a disappointment.
“Hrr. Yes. Where to begin? I think we must delve into history first, Olesm. You see, the origin of these creatures that resemble us goes back to when the continent was first inhabited by our peoples. Drakes and Gnolls.”
The Drake paused as he reached for another slice of meat. He stared at Krshia.
“That long ago? But that’s ancient history. Thousands of years old!”
Krshia nodded. She smiled a bit as Olesm stared at her.
“Yes. Is it surprising I would know tales from back then? It is true few books survive so long, enchanted or not, but history is told through our tribes differently from the Drakes. It is spoken, passed from Gnoll to Gnoll. And we remember things in ways you do not. For instance, long ago it was said that Izril was not known as the home of Drakes and Gnolls, but as the home of Dragons.”
“Our Ancestors.”
Olesm murmured respectfully and with a hint of longing. He had never seen a Dragon before, only heard rumors. One in Terandria for instance, that preyed on livestock. But Ancestors, real Drake Ancestors, were supposed to be wise and cunning, full of magic and wonders. And greed, of course. That’s where Drakes got it from. Krshia nodded. She sniffed and chewed on a bit of the raw meat in the bowl. She clearly had no longing for the past.
“Yes. I have heard what Drakes say. But that is not the Gnoll experience, no. Our people remember a time when Dragons ruled and their descendants, Drakes, built vast and impregnable cities to shield themselves from war with their elders. Dragons and Drakes fought, but both preyed on a common species. Gnolls. We were food for Dragons. Drakes too. Our peoples lived in terror of the skies.”
Olesm shifted uncomfortably. Krshia smiled gently.
“It is not your fault for the past Olesm, yes? Regardless, in order to survive, it is said that we Gnolls dug deep and learned how to hide. We found refuge in caverns, lived underground. And down there, some of us…changed.”
“Changed? How?”
The Gnoll paused as she sat across from Olesm. She looked uncomfortable, but she shook her head and shrugged in reply to his question.
“It was dark in the ground, Olesm. Dark, or so the stories say, and we Gnolls are not meant to dig so deep. We spent yea
rs, decades, in hiding. Longer, I think, but the stories are not clear. In any case, we spent so long down there that some of us went mad from the deepness of it. Mad and wild. Their bodies changed as they forgot the ways of civilization—and we Gnolls are civilized, for all that you call us tribal creatures.”
“I have never thought so.”
“Hrm. No? Well, others say it and there is some truth to it. But these other Gnolls lost those hints of civilization. They became bestial, more like monsters than people, yes? That is when Gnollkind split. In the darkness, one group remained Gnolls and others became—not.”
Olesm stared at Krshia.
“How is that possible? You’re saying Gnolls as a species changed? How?”
She shrugged.
“It was only some. As to how, perhaps it was magic, or perhaps it was just a difference in what they ate. Or what they did.”
“I don’t follow.”
“The others, the not-Gnolls. They longed for the light, yes? That longing can be a terrible thing. They lost their mind in the darkness. Became as savage as the things that dug around them. Ate and killed, and gained strength for it. They gave up their levels, Olesm.”
Memory stirred. Olesm remembered hearing about Ryoka’s refusal to level. But he still couldn’t believe it.
“Impossible. As a people? You mean…”
The Gnoll [Shopkeeper] nodded.
“It was a trade, I think. A curse willingly taken, or—or something else. These not-Gnolls turned their backs on what made them Gnolls to become stronger. They obtained powerful forms, dangerous abilities…but at a price. They lost their ability to level in exchange for bodies like steel, strength beyond other Gnolls. But they lost their minds, became warlike, hungry only for blood and flesh. Again, at a price. It was said of these Gnolls that they underwent strange changes in the moonlight. Only during the full moon would they regain any measure of sanity.”
Olesm tried to imagine such creatures. It wasn’t hard, actually. Take away the intelligence of a Gnoll, replace it with a primitive mind and make them stronger—he shuddered as he imagined a tribe of them living deep in the darkness.