“That’s horrible!”
“Well... it can be, if you let it. But here’s the thing. The people who are stupid enough to think that’s all there is to you, they underestimate you. So if they’re your enemy, you can exploit that. They die easier when you pull off something smart. And if they fear you, you can use that to your advantage, too. Me, people look at me and think hm, axe, half-orc, the dude’s a berserker, who’s going to murder his way through life, go into a rage, and kill indiscriminately.”
“That’s horrible!”
“Yeah, especially since what I want to do is murder my way through life, go into rages, kill discriminately, and get paid for it.”
“But you aren’t a berserker, how can you rage?”
“Race skills. We get born with one orcish skill and one human skill. In my case I’ve got that human drive to achieve, which gives me bonus experience for quests and stuff like that. And I’ve got twisted rage. It’s... pretty horrible. It’s a rage that burns me up, eats up hit points.”
“Oh. That’s... kind of dangerous, right?”
“It would be if I weren’t smart.” He tapped his forehead. “Shamans get slow regeneration which helps me survive, and mercenaries get Blood is Gold, which lets us trade money for instant healing. I’m gonna be a legendary fury on the battlefield, when I start getting paid enough. And when I’m on a battlefield. Which is going to be soon, if the Oblivion’s going down in our lifetime.” his eyes gleamed. “It’ll make grinding all that charisma totally worth it...”
“We didn’t get his rage,” Jarrik said. “Just as well. He goes through so much crap keepin’ his temper down. We got Darkspawn instead. Lets us see in tha dark, get bonuses to stuff at night or in tunnels and such.”
“Oh. That’s pretty handy!”
“Yeah, all the best monsters come out at night,” Bak’shaz grinned. “Downside is I’m stuck with Orky charisma. But my tamer job helps there.”
“Mom put a scorpion into his crib to toughen him up when he was a baby,” Garon explained. “No shit, he made friends with it! Didn’t sting him, slept with him, kept other bugs away from him.”
“Wait, she did what?” Celia’s voice rose.
“It’s all right. She had the antidote right there, and was ready to heal him up. She did stuff like that to all of us. Orcs are born with lousy luck and no real clerics among most tribes. So children have to get tough fast or improve their luck quickly, or they die because they just didn’t have the luck or fate to survive.”
“She lost a few children that way, before she started getting tough on us,” Bak’shaz said. “Then we lost one more ’cause she got stupid.”
“Don’t talk about Mastoya that way,” Jerrik scowled. “You don’t know nuffin’ about it.”
“What... um...”
Garon glanced Celia’s way. “She joined the King’s guard. She had twisted rage too, she’d be dead if she couldn’t find an outlet for it. Can’t blame her. She’s off in the North somewhere right now. Still sends letters and money back. Dad keeps the letters and gives away the money. Which is a shame, because I could put it to good use. In fact...” He bit his lip, considered Celia.
“What?”
“You’re family now.” He glanced around. “Jerrik, are Mom and Dad gone out of earshot?”
“Keen Eye,” Jarrik whispered, then stood up and looked into the woods. “I think so.”
“Good.” Garon smiled, and leaned in close to Celia. “How would you like to help us run through a dungeon?”
CHAPTER 10: CATAMOUNTAIN
“I still don’t know if this is a good idea,” Celia confessed, clutching Threadbare to her as she followed Bak’shaz up the lonely pass. The wind howled alongside the trail, dusting snow off the sheer drop to the valley below. They were alone, one of the others gone ahead, and the other swearing to catch up once his errand was done.
In the distance, through the curtain of snowflakes, the three peaks of their destination loomed like forgotten idols to dead gods.
“It’d be a bad idea if we was going far in,” Bak’shaz shrugged. “But the Catamountain don’t get nasty unless you cross the first bridge. Long as we stick to Housecat Peak we won’t have no trouble.”
“I guess.” Celia chewed her lip, and shivered in her coat. “I wish we’d come up here with the others. All in a group.”
“Won’t be any problems until we get in. Guards keep the path up clear. Might be problems with the guards.”
“Problems?”
“Yeah. It’s why I left Porkins at home. The guards don’t like us too much because we’re half-breeds. I used to have a Bloodhound, but they kicked it off the mountain, said it was because he was too weak to survive in there, so they were saving it the trouble of a slow death.”
“That’s horrible!”
“Yeah. I loved that hound.” Bak’shaz sighed, and stuck his hands in his overalls. “So I’ll find a pet in there an’ use it for the run, then let it go ’fore I come out.”
“I— you don’t think they’ll do that to Threadbare, will they?” Celia hugged the little bear tight.
Threadbare didn’t like the notion of being kicked off the mountain much. He started fumbling in Celia’s pocket for one of her daggers.
“Hey, no. Settle down, I won’t let anyone get you,” Celia reassured her teddy bear.
Bak’shaz watched them, and chuckled. “No, they won’t do that to Threadbare. You look rich. Uh, they might call you some nasty stuff because you’re with us. But whatever you do, don’t let them see you getting mad. They got cells up there they can stick ‘troublemakers’ in.”
“Why are the guards so awful?”
“Dad says it’s ’cause good men don’t get assigned here. Just the jerks who can’t cut it in the reg’lar military, so they get their kicks picking on people and ’busing their authority. But they’re mostly cowards, they know Dad would kill them in their sleep if they killed us or disappeared us. Besides, they need him to train their scouts. He’s the best at that.”
“There y’are!” An unfamiliar voice came from ahead, and Celia flinched, thinking they’d hit the guards already. But no, it was a strange young woman, Celia’s height but three times as broad, wearing jingling chain mail. Her green eyes were barely visible above an oversized shield. “We figured you’d be late. Not as late as I thought, from how Jarrik described you.”
“Um, you must be Beryl.” This was the first time Celia had ever seen a dwarf that wasn’t in a picture book. She had a horned helmet with multicolored braids hanging out of it, purple and black and pink. As Celia got closer she saw the girl’s eyes were surrounded by black makeup, that matched her lipstick. The ankh on her steel breastplate gleamed silver, though, and Celia thought it looked familiar.
“Is that a holy symbol of Aeterna?”
“Yeah. Not my choice but you got to keep the fam happy, right? And she’s actually pretty cool when you get to know her.” Beryl sighed, and rolled her eyes.
From behind her, Jarrik waved. He had black lipstick smeared on his throat and mouth, and Celia’s high int let her put two and two together.
She decided not to say a word, and blinked as her wisdom increased.
“Just so you know, girl, if you try to steal my boy I’ll rip your tits off,” Beryl grinned, showing flat, even teeth. “Do you understand?”
“I, I, I wouldn’t, I mean yes. I understand.”
“Great. Come on, let’s go make some money.”
Beryl stomped forward, and Celia watched her go. Jarrik smiled, looking a little out of it.
“You got a hicky, bro,” Bak’shaz mopped his own neck and mouth.
“Oh! Shit.” Jarrik wiped them away, fell in with Bak’shaz and Celia. “She’s the leader, okay?”
“All right.” Celia shrugged. “I’m just along for the ride with this one.”
Ahead, a gatehouse loomed out of the snow, sealing off the trail. It looked like the construction ran back into the cliff to the side, with arrow sli
ts and parapets above. Two guards stood stock still, wielding halberds, dressed head to toe in black plate with red glowing glyphs on it.
“Magical armor?” Celia sucked in her breath.
“Aye,” Beryl had stopped, and heard her question. “Work for the king, you get the good stuff. Just costs your soul.”
“What?”
“He consorts with demons. Everyone knows it.” Beryl spat off the cliff. “But if you get me going I’ll get political and it’s too cold for that shit now. Where’s your damned brother, Jarry?”
Jarrik pointed a thumb back down the trail.
Celia turned, and saw a fountain of snow rushing off the cliffside, as something brown sped up the trail, moving way faster than she’d seen anyone run before. She took two steps back... and Garon appeared out of the snow cloud, skidding to a stop on the rocky path. “Forced March. So useful.” He tossed a package at Celia, and she almost dropped Threadbare as she caught it. “Got your tailoring kit. Wasn’t too expensive so we’ll just take it out of your share.”
“Tailoring kit?” Beryl snorted. “You gonna make us pretty dresses while we’re in there, girl? Maybe some pretty bows for our hair?”
Celia frowned at her. No one had ever been this rude to her before, and she didn’t know how to handle it. “No. They told you I’m an animator, right?”
“Right. So what?”
“So it takes sanity to heal my toys. This will let me repair them without spending sanity points.”
“I do the healing for the group. That’s the rules, squirt.” Beryl took a step forward, squinting at her.
“Then try it,” Celia held out Threadbare. “See what happens.”
Threadbare waved.
“You’re joking, right?” Beryl squinted harder.
“Uh, Beryl? That bear’s got more class levels than you do,” Bak’shaz told her.
Instantly Beryl’s eyes opened wide. “Get the fuck out!”
“He’s a golem,” Celia told her, and Beryl’s jaw dropped.
“Seriously? They have a pair of big stone ones guarding the gates of Shalekeep. My Da’ told me about how they came alive during the troubles, and crushed armies.”
“I think I heard of those,” Celia said. “My mom’s notes mentioned that she helped build—”
“Okey-dokey then!” Garon interrupted, clapping them both on the back. “Let’s get sorted. Beryl?”
“Right, what’s the little bastard’s name then?” Beryl knelt down a bit to smile at Threadbare. “Oooh, he’s got a wee knife! How cute!”
Your Adorable Skill is now level 14!
“He’s Threadbare, but, uh, it takes a special skill to invite golems into a party. I’ve tried without it and it doesn’t work. The only way to do it takes scrolls I don’t have.”
“Well what use is he then?” Beryl frowned.
“He’s pretty smart and he’ll do what I ask him to. Won’t you, Mister Bear?”
Threadbare nodded, and patted her arm. Celia put him down. “Let me get a few other toys out to fill out our ranks. And maybe a dagger, I’m thinking.”
After a bit of animation and sorting, it ended up being Beryl, Celia, the brothers, a floating dagger, and the little dragon toy.
“That’s all seven then,” Beryl nodded. “Sorry Bakky, no temporary pets for you.”
“S’okay.” He hauled out a slingshot that looked quite a bit nicer than Celia’s. “I’ll just be support, and if her stuff gets wrecked I can tame something.”
“Works better this way. Your little golem won’t siphon our experience,” Beryl grinned. “We’ll just have to make sure we make the kills, not him.”
“Okay. Time for the next step.” Garon sighed. “Let’s hope they’re in a good mood.”
“They can’t do anything to us. My family’s rich. She looks important, too,” Beryl pointed a gauntleted finger at Celia.
“What? Me?”
“You look soft, like you’ve never had to work much. They’ll think you’re rich too. I’ll pretend you’re my friend if they ask or give you a hard time.”
“Thanks, I think.” Celia frowned.
“If you want to thank me, do well in the dungeon and help make me rich. Then we’ll see about being friends for real.” Beryl punched her in the arm. Hard.
“Ow!”
But the dwarf had already turned, and was trudging up the path again, with her back and forth gait.
Wondering what the heck she’d gotten into, Celia followed along, Threadbare up on one shoulder, the dagger orbiting her in slow circles, and her dragon at her side. The boys fell in behind her, keeping their empty hands visible and their weapons obviously stowed in their respective sheaths or hangars.
“Scouts’ll be checkin’ us out from this point on,” she heard Jarrik whisper in her ear, and recognized the Wind’s Whisper skill. “Don’t say nuffin’ suspicious or that you don’t want’em ta hear.”
She nodded back, and shot him a thumbs up.
“Full party to enter Catamountain,” Beryl waved at the guards.
The rightmost one called back, his voice deep and echoing in his helm. “The dungeon is closed. Turn back.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t have to give you that answer, citizen.”
Celia looked back to the boys, but they looked as confused as she was.
“Is this normal?” Celia asked the guards. “Is it being remodeled or something?”
The leftmost guard facepalmed. The rightmost one shook a bit, and there was a little mirth in his voice. “Orders, I’m afraid. It should be only be sealed for a few days. After that, you’re free to come back.”
“I don’t recognize your voice,” Garon asked. “Sir, are you new here?”
Instantly the mirth left the guard’s tone. “Be on your way.”
“All right,” Celia said, half feeling relieved. “We’ll go. Sorry for the fuss—”
The gatehouse portcullis shuddered, and started to rise. The guards started, then whirled and pointed their halberds at the children. “Drop to your knees! Hands in the air!” The leftmost one yelled, but the rightmost one grabbed him, pulled him back, and said something in a low voice.
The recalcitrant guard immediately straightened up, stepped aside, and banged his fist against his breastplate about where his heart would be. “You may enter. I apologize, miss.”
“Oh-kay...” Beryl said, glancing around at the group. “Let’s go then.”
Silent, they filed by, entirely uncertain of what had just happened, and how they should feel about it.
And only Threadbare, peering over Celia’s shoulder, was looking in the right direction to see a face peering out of one of the arrow slits. A face with blue eyes as cold as ice, framed with long, straight black hair. He waved, and Anise smiled, waved back, and faded into the shadows.
LUCK +1
PER +1
What a nice lady! Threadbare turned back to watch his friends struggle up the path.
*****
Anise put her hand on the scout’s shoulder, as they peered down at the pass, and the group of children below. “You’re sure?”
“Yeah. The bear’s got a magic item equipped, the stat boosts are too diversified for any mundane equipment.”
“Unregistered, most likely,” Anise considered her options, then nodded. “Whisper to the guards. Tell them the kids are on an exemption list.”
“Ma’am?”
Anise’s cold, cold eyes narrowed. “Did I stutter?”
The Scout, Jericho was his name, paled and nodded, lips moving as he used his magical skill to pass on the message.
Anise threw the lever to open the gate, and hurried over to the arrow slit at the sound of shouting. But it was just the typical problem you ran into with Whispering Wind, and people who were on hair triggers. The guard who hadn’t heard overreacted, but fortunately his friend had calmed him down. They were all on-edge, and highly trained, over-trained really, for this situation.
But then, Melos
had insisted on bringing only the elites out here. She rather thought it overkill, but it didn’t matter in the end. She had what she needed. Everything else was details to be arranged at her pleasure.
Like those details outside. She peered out the window at the children moving up the path, and stifled a giggle as the little golem waved at her. She waved back.
“No,” she told Jericho, as he reached toward a clipboard of parchment. “Don’t record this one.”
“Well, they brought an item in, we don’t want any misunderstandings after they come back out—”
Actually, Anise did. “I’ll tell the next shift personally. Keep this one off the books.”
“Those are Mordecai’s kids, miss. I...” Jericho snapped his lips shut. Like many of the King’s scouts in this region, the old man had trained him personally. Which was why they were still around, unlike the local garrison. They were the best scouts in the Crown’s army, and the King had nobody more elite to replace them with.
“You need to be going on back to town, to the mustering point,” Anise told him. “We’re moving tonight, and your help will be crucial to the Crown’s success, Jericho.”
He paled. “Yes ma’am!” Snapping off a salute, pounding his fist against his heart, he rose and departed.
Anise smiled, and pinched out the candle, leaving the observation room in darkness...
*****
“What just happened—” Celia started, but Garon shook his head.
“Wait.”
They turned the corner in the path—
—and instantly the light falling snow cleared. Celia gasped, as she could suddenly see a rocky slope, filled with boulders and prowling forms. The slope led up to a cave. Further up the peak she could see some sort of scaffolding, ending up in a weave of ropes that stretched from a low peak, up to a trail on a second mountain.
“What just happened there?” Celia asked.
“We entered the dungeon.” Beryl replied. “Sweet Aeterna, you are green.”
“Dungeons are weird,” Garon said. “No one outside can hear or see us, even if they’re literally five feet away from us. So it’s safe to talk now.”
Threadbare Volume 1 Page 16