Rise of the System Lords (semi-SI-OC, kinda-PF, kinda anti-litrpg)

[turbofluffysnek]

3.28 Pecking Order and Plans

Mack drove the buggy in relative silence at first as the dark sky grew steadily brighter. Relative being the word since it didn't have any windows and only a half-plexi piece for a windshield. Dawn was coming, everybody was tired, but there was an energy in the air.

"So, uh, not far now, huh?"

"Nope." Bruno leaned back, fingers crossed behind his head.

"Not worried at all?"

"Nope. Got yer gun pointin' at me?"

"Uh…"

"Want mine? You know, threaten me with it a little? Keep me and yerself awake?"

"You're one crazy son of a bitch, you know that?" Mack glanced over, then fixed his eyes back on the road.

"Yeah, something like that. You can shoot me if you like, if you think it'll help. I mean it won't, it'd be a really bad idea for you." Bruno grinned. Mack shook his head. "But you could."

"You're not afraid of dying?"

"It's pretty scary, gotta say, but… naa. Friend of mine died. Then he got better." Bruno's teeth flashed white.

"He got better?"

"Uh huh."

Mack laughed, then took one look at Bruno, then they both laughed harder.

"You crazy son of a bitch."

***

Mack stole a few glances at Bruno and his goblin friend Krunk as he drove. The dark-skinned man was leaning back with his hands laced behind his head, apparently thoroughly enjoying himself. Mack knew in his bones that the six strangers, only three of them human after all, should have been bricking themselves in fear. He also knew that they'd not be harmed, not if Robert got his way at least, but… but that was the thing: The three of them and their weird friends were utterly, utterly unconcerned. And if Bruno's words were true, death didn't seem to be something he was overly worried about either.

Something was Wrong, with a capital W. The sense of wrongness only intensified the nearer the biker gang got to the three's home turf, as they became more and more relaxed instead of the opposite.

"Just pull up there," said Bruno. "Big show of force, parking in the middle out in the open, innit?"

"It's… it's not a trap?" asked Mack, squeezing his buggy through the rows of bikes.

"Did you see us make any calls? Naa, no traps. Come on, get yer gun out, point it at me if ya want. Make a good show of it. Just do me a favor, right? Get me right in the head, okay? If you're gonna shoot me, make sure you kill me first go, okay?"

Mack pulled his buggy around and came to a halt, shaking his head, then watched as first Krunk leaped out, then Bruno unfolded himself to his full height. Taking a good look at the gun in his hand, Mack half-heartedly pulled it out of his holster and held it, pointing down at the ground. Around him, the gang were still pulling up one at a time, setting their kickstands down and dismounting, or just pulling up what stood for a handbrake and clambering out in the case of other buggies, as they started to fill the open square. Around them all were groups of… what should generouslyl be described as people, and basic stalls, manned by humans, goblins, lizards, haflings… different types of lizards, animal people… a lot of non-humans, actually. The feeling of wrongness only intensified as the people watching utterly failed to run around screaming or indeed act with anything other than caution and curiosity.

"Do you want some free advice?" Bruno asked, grinning again as he watched the other man.

"Yeah?" Mack asked, hesitantly turning his head from the crowds to look at Bruno.

"Smile, and relax. I said I'd put a good word in. What's up Simmons, the boss in?"

"He's sleeping. You lot alright?"

Mack looked confused, switching his gaze between Bruno and the newcomer, an older fit man with thinning hair, as other similarly curious onlookers edged in, floodlights casting dancing shadows through the softly bustling crowds.

"Yeah, we've brought some prisoners in."

"Yeah, ah, 'scuse me. Name's Robert. I'm not sure what's happening here, yeah? But, ah, all of you, put your hands where I can see them, nobody move too quick and nobody gets hurt." Robert did his best to be self-deprecatingly threatening.

Simmons glanced down at his clipboard, then over at the puffed up biker, then to Bruno. "What's up Bruno, I'll get the boss, alright?"

"We'll wait."

"Oi! I said don't fucking move! Or I'll shoot!"

Simmons tilted his head at Robert, frowning. "Yeah? Bad idea. Let me get the boss. He's gonna be so pissed." Simmons turned around again and started walking away. There was a relatively quiet 'click' and then a very loud 'BANG!'.

Simmons turned around. "Did you just fucking fire that thing? Well, now you've done it."

"Damned right I did it! Now you will—" Robert started, lowering his gun, but he didn't get much further as from further back, there was first a loud snort, and then a rumbling growl that grew and grew in intensity.

"What the shit is that?" hissed Mack, hoarsely.

"That's the boss," said Bruno, matter-of-factly. "Stay next to me, try to look harmless."

"What sort of… does your boss keep some sort of monster as a pet?"

"You know," chuckled Bruno, "I don't think I'm gonna answer that. A few of his actual pets might get offended, and they're bigger than me."

There was a series of loud thumps and scraping noises as something very, very large came closer and closer, and then a gigantic form leaped up onto a building and peered down at the eclectic group in the middle of the square, eyes gleaming in the semi-darkness.

"Hrrmmmm, Are we going to have a very brief problem here? Or are you going to put your toy down and apologize for waking me up?"

Mack grabbed his crotch as an uncomfortable warmth very swiftly turned to an equally uncomfortable cold, and his shoes grew more than a little soggy. "D-d-d-d-d…"

"Yep."

"Dra… dra… dra…"

"Breathe… you're fine. That's just the boss. We'll, ah, get you some clean clothes after."

"Fukken priceless," cackled Krunk.

"Hey, Robert?" called Bruno.

"What!?" shouted Robert, as he pointed his gun at the dragon, the muzzle wavering as he breathed hard, grip tight.

"I really, really suggest you put the gun down. Or failing that, everyone else near him, stand well back. Boss, I don't think he's gonna hurt anyone. You don't wanna hurt anybody, right Rob? You came here for a nice, polite chat, right? Simmons, got any good booze left?"

"Yeah, but I'm not gonna get it. I'll get the cheap shit. I'm tired as shit and this chucklefuck really hasn't earned anything better." The man wandered off, complaining as he went.

"Wasn't kidding about the standing back, by the way," Bruno called.

Robert glanced around himself as the bikers near him took more than a few steps back. He suddenly felt quite alone.

"Alright, Boss," called Denver, waving to the dragon. "Sorry about this."

The dragon narrowed his eyes, then rumbled out, "Are you unhurt?"

"Yeah, we're fine. We're all fine."

"Apparently I can tame animals now," added Smitty, waving too.

"Then my men can learn to call upon the Arts. Interesting. Now, human, you have a very simple choice before you." The dragon spread his wings and slinked down from the building like the worlds largest, angriest gecko. "You can drop to your knees and pledge yourself to me, or you can die."

"Yeah, he kinda does that," called Smitty, "and he does mean it."

***

I looked down at the man standing in the middle of the slowly growing circle. Ordinarily I'd have melted him by now, especially for actually firing that little pea-shooter he held, but since my minions not only weren't too worried but were urging me to be lenient, I was inclined to give him a single chance to not be a complete tit. After all, I had my own minions to think of, and a pitched battle wouldn't do any of them any favours and I'd rather avoid one.

"Well?" I asked, after a good few seconds. I narrowed my eyes as his body language shifted. "I really do urge you not to do anything rash. I promise you, none of you will be harmed, not if you do as I say. Not now, not ever, not by me or mine at least."

I moved closer one slow step at a time, slithering up to face this 'Robert' closely, turning my head to the side. I stared at him in silence. I could read the indecision on his face as plain as day. It was fear that had him now, fear held him, gripped him tight, warred with him. It wasn't just fear of me, but fear for his people. Admirable, really. I lifted a claw and very slowly, very gently, pushed his gun hand down.

"Kneel," I said. "Kneel, pledge yourself to me. All of you," I lifted my head, gazing around the square, "kneel, pledge to follow me, and you will not be harmed. I would see you lifted up, not — and I stress this — beaten down."

Robert deflated. He sighed, and dropped to his knees. "Just don't hurt them, and I'll do anything you say."

One by one, the bikers got down on their knees. Some put their hands in the air, some put their hands behind their heads, but each one popped into my awareness. I backed up, striding a good ways away. "Stand, friends. I will have some instructions for you soon enough, but first, it's early and I for one am still tired. Rest, recuperate, and then be ready to report."

I felt my will settle over them as I turned and strode back to the building I'd been sleeping in, the kobolds who'd been attending me brightening as their scurrying to tidy the area paid dividends. I did worry, as I curled back up into the residual warmth, that all this pampering was going to my head. As I fought for sleep, I found myself also deep in thought about how easy it was now, how palpable, to have my will extend to my new minions. It was growing easier, more natural, more nuanced with every acquisition. With every new soul, a voice joined a growing choir that sang in the recesses of my mind, and that choir swelled within me, expanded my essence, spread my dominion wider, thicker, like a blanket of intent that spread slowly but surely across this mall, this block, this town… how far could it go? And where and what would I be at the end?

***

Big Mack twiddled his finger in his ear, peered at it, peeled off what he found and flicked it. Working for a dragon. That hadn't really been on his bucket list, but it was… surprisingly easy to do? He probed how he felt about it, like one would a filling, or a long-removed wisdom tooth. There was this… presence, he found, in his head. A weight. Not a voice, not some peering eyeball, just a presence, like a hand on his shoulder. Mack found it strangely reassuring, and not only because he was now surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of more or less new family members. And odd feeling, but not unwelcome.

"So you say you've been tracking… something big? Moving roughly North West? Well we've been moving North East for the last couple of weeks, more or less. Our base is here, the old steelworks, it's only really an accident we met in the middle, so whatever your boys are after," Simmons tapped the map, which now sported a series of plastic figures and thick sharpie lines all over it, "it's avoided our boys. Think that's deliberate?"

"Not sure," said another of the bikers that formed this impromptu council, a bottle of cheap beer in his hand. He pointed a finger at the map and traced the known path of the whatever-it-was, "I could believe it, see how it started heading back up North a few days back? I think I know where it's gone, but that's gonna make things harder. This whole area, it's not really for the faint of heart. Dunno what you've been finding so far, but up here… it's not pretty. Well, it's really pretty, just not very friendly. Not a lot of people live there any more." The man ran his finger in a rough circle, indicating the whole North West of the city.

"It's been a bit hard to tell where we stand, really," Denver ran his hand through his hair. "We've been picking up what stragglers we can, but there's been a lot of empty houses, a lot of shallow graves. Just… just not enough shallow graves."

Everybody knew it, it was the worst kept secret there was, but with the way the world had stretched like taffy, expanded like risen dough, a lot of people had been cut off from water, food, electricity… and the result should have been a lot of dead or at least dying, desperate people. The reality was that folks were wandering out into the wilderness looking for supplies or shelter or other survivors, and they were just… not coming back. Worse, the dead were disappearing. Not because they were walking off by themselves, but because there were a lot of hungry creatures quite happy to scavenge that sort of readily available meal. It was a ticking time-bomb. The creatures, whatever they were, were cautious with live humans mostly because there wasn't a good reason to bother with them so far, not that they wouldn't jump at an opportunity if given one. The real issue was, that at some point in the relatively near future, those easy meals would stop, and those populations of well-fed, wild, grown into their own killers would fasten their gazes on the next best thing. Live humans.

Normal humans, even armed, were no match for larger numbers of the kinds of beasts that now inhabited the wild spaces between the scraps of civilisation that still existed; the worgs, the bullettes, the rocs, the wendigo, the chupacabra, the chimerae… all of these could finish off a lone human nine times out of ten. And a pack of them could decimate a town of unprepared women and children without breaking a sweat. Even the mundane dangers were lethal to most humans, such as bears, wolves and mountain lions, and there were plenty of those around.

The bikers were as prepared as they could be. They'd lost a number of men as they'd begun staking out their territory, not only to wild creatures of all stripes but also to other humans, opportunists, thugs and criminals. Mack snorted to himself as he thought about how that effort had all gone to waste now. Sort of. It all belonged to the dragon, not that it seemed to be an issue, the dragon didn't seem to want much, not now it owned everything.

"So if you weren't tracking us and we haven't seen this thing either, what the hell do you think it is?"

"Large, starts at nine feet, ends at what, eighteen? More? We're not sure. They're roughly humanoid. They eat, well, anything and everything they can catch. They especially like humans, particularly children. We…" Robert paused, a hitch in his voice, "we weren't fast or strong enough to stop them when we first heard of them, but we've done a good job of driving them away from our, your, territory."

"It is our territory, friend," the dragon said, in its deep, rumbling voice. "What's yours is mine, and so it is all ours. But tell me, what is it you are hunting?"

"They move only at night," Robert continued. "It is very, very hard to find them during the day. They like the dark, I think direct sunlight actively harms them in some fashion, renders them… if not easy pickings, then at least vulnerable. That's the good news. The bad news? They're heading to somewhere where it's very dark a lot of the time, and where I think they can hide all the time."

"...Shit," swore Simmons. "No fucking way. Get me the book."

Some kobolds ran up shortly after with a loose collection of photocopied, stapled-together pages of various stock, from various printers, photocopiers and the like. Simmons flipped through it, then started swearing more. He folded the pages back and slammed the lot onto the table, pointing at it accusingly. "You're talking about fucking trolls."

Robert nodded, turned his head and spat. "Trolls. And they're heading to the caves."

Mack glared at the map. Once upon a time there'd been a babbling river that'd cut its way through the hills in the North, perfect for swimming, hiking and hunting along, creating some caves many found fun spelunking their way through. Now, from what scant reports they'd got, it had become a treacherous canyon with a raging torrent at its heart. Trolls apparently liked caves, and the whole damned area was rife with them, with enveloping shadows and yawning chasms. Troll heaven, and a nightmare for anybody trying to dig them out.

 

[turbofluffysnek]

Sublime


"Pestle and mortar? Really?" Joe glared at the object before him, then glowered up at the Sister — Brother? No, he was sure this one was a female, he was learning to spot the differences — kobold before him. "You know I could put this in the blender and get it done in moments?"

"Do it right or not at all!" hissed the Sister in Draconic. "Grind!" She pointed a claw imperiously at the pestle and mortar and lashed her tail.

"You know I'm going to experiment later, right?"

"Do what you will when you are not holding my tail, but until then you will do as I say!"

Joe couldn't help but laugh at the scowling kobold, not to be mean but because she was so serious. She was half his height but definitely feeling her oats. She stalked back to her side of the table, hopping up onto a box to gain enough height to continue her lesson, slapping him with her tail as she went.

"She's pretty strict," said Owen, further along on his own lessons, being allowed to play with the 'big boys chemistry set' as Joe had called it the first time he'd seen it.

"I'll say," added the ever-present Harry, back in his lizard form and taking the liberty of lazing across the workdesk near the bunsen burners to soak in the heat. "Though she's got a point, magic is… finicky. Alchemy even more so."

"Alchemy? Don't you have to be a wizard or something to do that? I thought anybody could do this stuff?" Joe peered down at his equipment and ingredients, frowning worriedly.

The lizard did his best approximation of a shrug. "If Matron and Fazli says anybody can do it, I'd trust them." Harry rolled over and scratched his belly with one idle claw. "'Course, you really should listen to the sister here when she says how to do it, no wonder if it doesn't work if you don't!"

The kobold glared at Joe, very pointedly and angrily grinding away at her ingredients. Joe thought her name was Tess or Tass or Snass or something similar. Very cautiously, Joe picked up the pestle and, watching carefully how the little kobold did it, he copied her until she nodded, chirping happily.

It was hard work, but once the kobold saw Joe was trying his best, her frosty demeanor thawed quite nicely until he found he was quite happily picking up all the tips he could from how to crush roots and pare and trim herbs, how to reduce a number of bizarre ingredients, until after a good amount of effort, he found himself one final step from completion. So after stirring an exact number of times a precise number of degrees in the required directions, he carefully took a needle and stabbed it into a finger, and dropped three drops of blood in.

Immediately he felt it, a fizzing behind his eyeballs, as if he'd inhaled electricity. The boiling pressure flowed up into his head, down his spine and then back up his legs, through his lungs and down his arms and out of his fingers. He twitched his fingers, gasping, then stared as he flexed them. The wound, small as it had been, was gone. It took him a good few seconds to also realize that the semi liquid mass he'd been highly suspicious of had cleared into a thick, oily and bright red mixture.

He felt faint. His nose twitched and he blinked repeatedly as his brain was now telling him all sorts of interesting, impossible things.

"Mmm, you show promise, human. I think I like you enough to keep you," said a voice. Joe spun, glancing around the room. He saw nobody, but he felt her, looking over his shoulder. "This is a new area for me, we'll have to learn together, Alchemist."

"D… do you hear… ah, uhm, fo-forget about—"

"Moirea?" asked Owen, not even glancing up from his work. "Of course I can hear her. I probably should apologize, but I told her about you this morning. I've been… it's kind of my job."

"He's her first. She's his too… yeep!" Harry skittered away from the thrown pestle, bursting into a cloud of gold as he shed his lizard skin and turned into a raven before flapping out the nearest door. Owen moved to pick up the implement he'd thrown.

"I, er, sorry about… him. That."

Joe glanced around the room at the echoing laughter. "Alright, tell me the whole story?"

"A few days ago, before we got those druids from Stokerville? I… became a witch."

"Yeah, I know that. Kind of. Mostly." Joe scratched his nose, frowning slightly. "I'm just not sure where I come in."

Owen took a deep breath, in and out, then started talking. "Moirea, the Lady, Daughter of the Green, she came to me, and offered me a deal. Powers, Harry, all I had to do was agree to… worship her. I don't really get how it works. It's not like how, you know, churches and that lot work. At least not for me, maybe not for her, but she is a goddess."

"Go on," Joe asked, gesturing, as he peered at the flask in his hands.

"Well, ever since then I've been on the lookout for… humans, specially, but anyone who might be able to harness what the Boss calls 'The Arts'. Magic. For us, people like me… and you, beings like The Lady can give that to us. She's… kind of like The Boss, you know? He just wants to get on with his life, Moirea wishes to… get more powerful? I don't know, but she's not… she's not trying to end the world, not trying to replace it with a new one, she doesn't really even want to rule the world, not our one at least, she just wants to get on with things. And if you put your faith in her, she puts her faith in you, you know?"

"Can I… say no?" Joe asked, scowling.

"I think you can. I don't think you can be forced to do anything you don't want to without agreeing to it first, kind like… well, The Boss. Again. You just… don't get what she's offering if you refuse." Owen looked kind of apologetic. Joe closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed.

"Alright, you'd better… can you take me to her?"

"I… think so?"

"Alright, let's go."

***

Sarge opened his eyes, blinking. For a moment, he didn't know quite where he was. The tiles on the ceiling confused him, but then ultimately led him to remember. He was in his office. He'd laid down on the sofa he'd had dragged in and against all the advice he'd given himself, he'd fallen asleep in it. He'd apparently slept long enough that somebody — probably Sanders — had put a blanket on him.

He groaned as he swung his legs over and sat up, vertigo and his neck both complaining at him. He wiped his mouth where he'd been drooling and smelled his breath. Recoiling, he then cleared this throat twice between aborted attempts to call for coffee.

One of the kobolds eventually ran up with a not-too-grotty cup full of the dark brew and handed it up to him. He eyed the rim carefully.

"Just get your own cup next time, okay Sport? You're allowed to," Sarge grumbled, running a thumb around the rim and swigging some of the mixture anyway. He'd given up being more than slightly miffed at this sort of thing, it was a kobold thing to do to share. The kobold had the good graces to look slightly ashamed of himself, even so. Sarge couldn't help it, he tousled the non-existent fur on the creature's head and stalked out of the office, pulling on his jacket, to see what he'd missed, the kobold squawking happily behind him. He was a youngster, one of the newest clutch, and there was now an abundance of the little buggers. Not only that, but a few days ago, a couple of days after the initial return of five dead who were now miraculously up and about again, an entire herd — a small herd, but still — of centaur had arrived to bolster the individuals they'd already had. The centaur herd was looking a lot happier now, which… felt good. Going through the reports, it was a small victory. Things in town had gotten very bad, and the sheer scale of things was now apparent. A world that was a hundred times larger than before, with distances between the scattered landmarks averaging at least ten times that of before. The town of Stokerville was gone, all that remained was isolated outposts of humanity and a lot of dead, dying or at least desperate people.

The good was that with the dragon around, the Sunset forces were going from strength to strength and picking up a lot of those pieces. He stretched, internally lamenting the loss of so many humans to swell the ranks of the kobolds and other beasties now making their way around The Base, but he couldn't deny they were coming in handy. And were a lot easier to deal with, in many ways. Mostly because he didn't have to do it. Not that there weren't an order of magnitude more wretched souls left if he really wanted to bolster the human ranks here… and he really didn't. There wasn't room. That was something that the centaur druids and others were allegedly going to help with. They were looking at moving into the Eastern forest, and the goblins were talking about moving a contingent into the Dread Forest to the West. Both of these relied on the success of today's hunting party, consisting of the few human Talents that had popped up and the gnolls and wargs who'd turned the goblin's nest upside down.

Sarge just hadn't expected it to be quite as big a deal as it was turning out to be.

"Alright Sarge!"

"Wotcha Sir!"

"Morning!"

Sarge found himself blinking in the sunlight and waving to all the greetings, in Human as well as Draconic and others, as the biggest of the empty training yards was now full to the brim with kobolds, goblins, the gnolls and worgs including that dangerously massive Dire Worg that was apparently Gully — whatever his full name had been before, it was now just 'Gully' — and his equally enormous gnoll-queen rider who'd taken over the gnoll pack, plus a large contingent of humans, not to mention that probably-a-dire-bear-kin Bear and his own squad.

And then there was that troublemaker Simon and his adopted kobold-mom Fazli and Lucy, hop-skip-jumping her way around, greeting all the worgs with kisses on the head, adjustments of various collars and bows and… oh look, she was clambering onto the bullettes.

"Uh, are you going to, umm…" Sarge gesticulated at Simon and then Lucy. Fazli hissed at him, her tail lashing wildly. It had one of those vicious bladed spiked kobold tail-weapons affixed to the end. Lucy just patted the bullette beneath her and murmured something, it then sank gently into the ground and surged over towards him, carrying her and her litter of smaller friends she had with her closer.

"Don't worry," said Lucy, smiling, "I'll keep everyone safe."

Sarge was suddenly aware of the fact that every single worg, both bullettes and a number of mice and rats were glaring at him. The words 'high priestess' floated in his forebrain and a shiver ran up and down his hindbrain. Just smile and wave.

"You see that you do, young miss. Smash and Grab both, all our handsome worgs and, ah, all your little friends there are counting on you."

"I will, I promise!"

 

[turbofluffysnek]

Hunting Party

Nalsi peered at the young human girl as she spoke to Smash and patted his head. The bullette did a little wriggle and an up-down motion happily as she did so. It was amazing; Smash and Grab both were like massive, overgrown 'puppies' for all of the hatchlings, but ever since the human hatchling had got her Arts, she'd been able to talk to Nalsi's Familiar, and… Smash listened. Smash liked her. So did Grab. So did not only an entire warren of rabbits, a swarm of rats and mice, but also all the worgs. All of them. With feeling.

It shouldn't have been surprising about the worgs, perhaps, seeing as they were all ex-humans, but if Smash and Grab brought forth the expression 'overgrown puppies', the worgs certainly did. They fell over themselves to look after the little human, regularly bringing her gifts and letting her dress them up with her bows and collars and minister to them with copious brushings. Gully may have ruled the pack, and Cindy may have been Gully's rider, but Lucy was the Princess to the whole pack.

"The birdies say the big doggies are in the nicer forest. The rabbits say the nasty doggies are in the nasty forest," said Lucy, "as well as some large, umm, not-doggies? They say they're like the goblin puppies!"

There was a rumbling, disapproving growl that ended with a quick 'yelp!' as Cindy slapped the grumbler into silence. Nod chuckled.

"Dave, Billy, you're both my puppies, ain't that right?" There was more grumbling, but Nod just laughed it off. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Nobody else gets to say that, except the li'l princess, ain't that right?"

Nalsi tuned out the good-natured ribbing from the goblins as she let her awareness expand. The forest appeared bleak and barren to the naked eye, but she could tell life was everywhere, above, below and between, and a lot of it wasn't friendly. "Little one, where are the… nasty doggies? And the goblin puppies?" Nalsi asked slowly in Draconic. Lucy turned to look at her, then called one of the mice closer and murmured to it.

"That way," the girl answered, pointing, after a brief conversation. "Squeakers says it's a long way, but he's a mouse, so I don't think it's that far from here." Lucy had sent out a large contingent of her mice and rats earlier in the day to scout into the Dread Forest. She'd sent birds out into the Eastern Forest too. Nalsi found it incredible, but the girl had a big enough information network to have practically charted both regions, and was still receiving close to real-time reports as they went.

"Squeakers?" asked one of the humans, tagging along.

"Uh huh! This is Squeakers, Squeakie, Socks, Molly, Milly, Pippin, Pop-Pop, Walter, Wally, Dewey, Donny—" Lucy started naming all the mice and rats situated on and around her.

"O-o-okay, wow, they all have names?"

"Uh huh!"

"I see, umm—"

"Quiet! The pups have got something!" hissed Nod from where he'd broken away to the front, the two male gnolls with him. Instantly, the entire extended mixed group was on guard. Dave and Billy rumbled at each other and Cindy, then both took deep breaths and howled, before charging off into the undergrowth. "After 'em!" shouted Nod gleefully. "Capture and hold, boys! We're gonna fill out the kennels! Gully, you wanna take your pack too? If you will, ma'am?" Nod pointed deferentially after the two smaller gnolls. Cindy nodded, leaped onto Gully's back, and the pair took off, both howling with the joy of the hunt, the rest of the worgs thundering after them.

"I'm on it!" shouted Simon, and took off on foot with a number of his adoptive kobold siblings in tow.

"Whee! Come on Smash! Up up!" said Lucy, clapping her hands. The bullette swerved around in a wide circle to pick up his tamer, and then rocketed off deeper into the forest, weaving around tree roots.

"Ahh, balls," said Frankie, slapping his muzzle with one paw as the little kobold watched them go. "Me and my boys'll keep 'em safe. Come on, Bear! That's my daughter out there!" With a roar, Bear took off after them.

Needless to say, the rest of the hunting party didn't exactly stay behind.

***

Gully ran, exulting in the pure joy of movement. His nose was telling him things from all around at a breakneck pace; trails from prey, dens and hidey holes, and finally… the location of his targets. He sucked in a deep breath even as he bunched his back legs and leaped, and he howled as he threw himself into the middle of the worg pack that was even now attempting to surround and close in on his own mistress and their pack. If it hadn't been such an insult, he would have admired the maneuver for its simplistic beauty, but as it was he'd have to punish the insolent whelps that dared try to hunt him.

With the force of a thousand howling gales he blew through the attempted beachhead, bowling over not only the lead dog but stumbling those near him and throwing another four or so to the winds. He spun, slammed into a tree, cracked the trunk and leaped back to snap and snarl through the flanks. Seconds later his own lieutenants blasted through after him and the battle heated up, not that it could end in any other way than total victory for him. Worgs were big, very big compared to even wolves which were enormous compared to most modern human-bred dogs, but Gully was bigger even than that. When he filled his lungs and howled once more, it all but evaporated the foliage for several feet around him. The foreign worgs didn't only whimper and cringe back, but the gnolls behind them staggered and scattered.

Ah! This was more like it! Gully gave chase, thundering after the fleeing gnolls as if they were little more than rabbits, snagging and throwing them hither and yon as he passed. His tongue lolled out happily as his mistress, bellowing her own war-cry, joined the fray. What she lacked in pure raw power, she made up for in surgical strikes to the head, chest, limb and crotch. He had learned since that first tussle where he had deigned to let her ride him how to be more than brute force and ignorance, but he had a lot of brute force to throw around even so.

"Get 'em Gully!" Cindy roared, as she yanked two cowering gnolls up by their necks and slammed their heads together before throwing them one at a time into more enemy gnolls and throwing herself after them.

Gully was only too happy to oblige, circling and herding a number of the worgs so he could lay down a proper challenge as head of this new pack. They would join him, or die fleeing. He sniffed, there were a number of females amongst them, an enticing smell telling him that more than a few would be… receptive. For a brief moment a part of what had been his prior brain recoiled, but then it was gone. He was Gully now, and this is who and what he was, destined dire emperor of all worg-kind. They would fall at his paws, and from him a dynasty, a legacy, would be born, and it all started here and now.

***

Simon ran through the forest, glancing left and right as worgs passed him. He was headed straight for trouble, so decided to curve around, to try to flank what he knew was ahead. There was a sudden long moment, and he realized his feet were no longer in contact with the ground, so he bent his knees and braced for impact, slamming quite hard and feeling the breath leave his body as he rolled. The growling and snarling around him had him leaping up, knife ready, but what he saw made him duck down again.

There was a worg here, it was true, but that wasn't all. There was also some sort of large, panther-like creature with a long tail, and two hefty, serrated edged tentacles extending from its shoulders. It was snarling at the worg, its lower jaw unhinged in the middle and splitting off to the sides, vicious serrated teeth jutting forwards as the tentacles whipped back and forth. Simon had never seen one of those before, but could recognize deadly when he saw it. The worg was hurt, which meant that Simon's only hope to not die if that creature turned on him was to help the worg and hope the latter wouldn't kill him for the former to eat or vice-versa.

Simon darted forwards, his initial backwards motion halted as he realized how much trouble he was in, and he sliced with his knives at the twin tentacles, only to have the blades pass through nothing at all. His over-commit was the only reason he survived the actual leap of the beast itself as he passed through the illusion, and the real thing yowled as it passed over his head.

Simon dropped and slid, flipping one of his knives up in a clumsy slash that nevertheless drew blood, not that the stinging pain in his shoulder meant he'd escaped his own injuries. Rolling head over heels he came to his feet and spun, looking around. He spotted the tentacled cat-beast prowling and turning, and immediately threw himself towards the worg, this time clumsily avoiding the proto-canine's swipe as he saw why the worg hadn't left the area. It was protecting a body; intestines splayed out across the clearing, head at an unnatural angle, the goblin was very dead. Not one of Sunset's forces.

"So we're not only facing gnolls and worgs, also goblins," murmured Simon, turning his head left and right in short, quick motions as he sought an escape. "And whatever the hell you are," he told the cat-like beast. There was none, now he'd fallen here. Uphill to his compatriots was suicide. Down or out would only draw one or both of the creatures to chase him.

"What say you and mean team up?" Simon said, half turning away from the worg before circling around, flanking with the aid of the snarling beast. He hadn't got clawed, good. Now to see if he could spot where the actual cat-beast was versus where it was pretending it was. He sniffed, narrowing his eyes as he looked carefully. The cat-beast wasn't where it appeared to be, grasses and bushes weren't moving at its passing. On the contrary, some leaves on bushes were being bent strangely there, as were some grasses.

"There!" Simon shouted, only his desperate thrust with his knife keeping him from being disembowled as the cat-beast leaped at him, snarling. The worg, not to be outdone, threw itself at the cat-beast and Simon found himself crushed between two growling, teeth-flashing predators. He stabbed where he could, and twisted the blade in the cat-beasts muzzle where its jaws fastened around the worg's throat or legs, stabbing blindly and wildly until one paw the size of a dinnerplate caught him on the side of the head and the world went black.

It seemed only momentary before Simon opened his eyes again, bringing his one remaining knife up with a hiss; his arm was broken, or at least badly sprained, as was one leg. He found himself looking up into the muzzle of Smash, or Grab he wasn't quite sure which, as the bullette nosed him inquisitively. The cat-beast was in a heap on the far end of the torn-up clearing, alive but otherwise motionless.

"He wants to know if you're alright."

Simon looked up at the bullette's rider. "You're not Nalsi," Simon coughed out, "but yes, yes I am, thanks." He blinked as Lucy hopped down from the bullette and reached out a hand. "What?"

"You're worse hurt than I thought. You said thanks."

Simon rolled his eyes.

"Yeah? So what?" He closed his eyes as a strange warmth moved through him. He winced as his broken arm twinged, and he found he could move it again. His leg hurt less too, after a brief flare up as if he'd been kicked. "What did you do?"

"Healed you, I think. I'm not very good at it yet, but the green lady gave me magics and I'm trying really hard and even though you've been a meanie before to me and I said I hate you I don't so sorry and I hope you feel better."

"Yeah, tha—bleurgh!" Simon was about to accept and reciprocate the apology, when a rough tongue accompanied by breath like a month old latrine slicked up one side of his face.

"He hopes you feel better too."

"Yeah?" Simon put a hand on the worgs muzzle. It pushed its head into his grip, and he felt a pressure on his mind. Too tired to keep it out, he let it in, and suddenly he was… bigger than before, more, deeper.

"Okay, that was weird," Simon said, shaking his head. "What happened?"

"Umm, me an' Smash arrived as the puppy was fighting the bad kitty, you were over there looking pretty messed up. Smash got very angry with the kitty and now the kitty's in timeout."

"Not what I meant… I mean I did want to know that bit too, but I meant why I can suddenly feel the, uh, puppy. In my head."

"I think the green lady likes you too. Probably. I'll go ask her later. She gave you a gift, and now you can talk to your puppy like I can talk to all the animals. Umm, probably not the same way though, but you can hear him, right?" Lucy had her head to one side, as if she was listening to something. Simon thought she probably was.

"Y-yeah, I… I think he does. Wait, you can talk to him?"

"Uh huh."

"To… all the animals?"

"Uh huh."

"Huh." Simon blinked at Lucy, then turned to stare into the worg's gaze. "I can't, not… not like that at least. Are we good though? You an' me?"

"Yeah, I said I'm sorry and—"

"Not what I meant, but… yeah. Thanks. Yeah. I was a butt. Mama-Fazli," he lapsed into Draconic for the honorific, "has been setting me straight. I… think I like being a kobold more than a human. Help me up, mutt." Simon pulled himself upright, wincing as he tenderly put weight onto his formerly broken leg. It held, just. "No, ya know what? Come on… you, you help me up all the way." Lucy watched as the boy-turned-adopted-kobold pulled himself up into the worg's odd saddle as if he'd been trained for it. "You know, I think I need to give him a name."

"His last partner didn't really give him one." replied Lucy, turning and waving as Nalsi leaped down the incline to throw herself against Smash's chitinous carapace.

"Well I will. I'm calling him Cerberus. Let's get back to the others, before either that cat-thing gets up or more come."

"It's called a coeurl," said Nalsi, in Draconic, "I recognize it from my world. Very dangerous. You are becoming a fine hunter to have fought it and lived."

Simon spared the coeurl a glance before he urged Cerberus to take him out of the clearing. "I didn't really fight it."

"But you did live."

Simon glanced at Nalsi, then at the coeurl one final time before grinning with a wry smile. "I suppose I did. Let's get out of here, back to the fighting, before something more dangerous turns up."

 

[turbofluffysnek]

Apologies for not getting something out earlier. Work's been mad again and I've finally been recovering.

Path of Destruction

Night was a bad time to be on the trail of trolls, but it was also the only time they were active enough to be easily seen. We compromised, by starting our expedition that morning in an attempt to catch up.

"Tell me again," I said to Robert, "what's been going on."

Robert sighed, pushing himself back up against the side of the truck to sit a little straighter. It was loud in here, but not so loud that we couldn't talk, albeit with him having to raise his voice. The truck wasn't moving that quickly as the scouts from my newly extended forces were operating at range to guide the main force in the right direction, and that gave us time to talk

I could tell Robert wanted to be out there, but I needed to pick his brain, and as much as he chafed at it, he agreed with the need to get me and mine to the right place without delay and with as much mental ammunition as possible. Besides, we weren't far behind now. Trolls didn't move as fast as vehicles could, not for as long as we could. The bikers had engaged the stragglers of this… whatever a group of trolls was called. A pack? No, a horde. They had engaged the horde and picked off those that either were or could be separated from the main force, killing them if possible, harrying them to get them to lead the club to the next target otherwise. Alone, they'd whittled the trolls down as much as possible, taking heavy losses at first then less as time went on. Now though, now we'd have a chance to make a real impact.

"...And that's the current situation," Robert concluded. I huffed, growling softly and nodding.

"So you guys just… came together?" I rumbled.

"What else were we supposed to do? When the world went crazy, all we had was our brothers and sisters. The police were no help, not where most of us came from at the best of times. Not all their fault either, not with how…" Robert put his hands close together, then mimed them semi-exploding as he pulled them apart. "Police station's on the wrong side of the forest, as if they'd have come to our rescue anyway. Naa, we're the boys who kept the peace on our side of the tracks. We kept the drug dealing away from schools, the pimping to the cathouses and the shoplifters and street thugs in traction."

"Organized crime," I chuckled. "I respect that."

Robert glowered for a moment, then understood I was serious. "We kept our streets safe. Made examples of people where we needed to, made deals where we had to. Our territory was one you could walk down any time of day or night and not get mugged or shot. If you were a shoppie you paid for it, but it was cheaper and better than relying on the five-oh to not show up until hours later and harass your customers." Robert pursed his lips and 'spat' a puff of air. "Assholes."

"So, what happened after that?"

"Eh, world went mad, we secured our turf. First was just the same scum fucks we'd been dealing with before who thought the leash was off. We made them understand ours was too. Then we had the… changed, and the…" Robert waved a hand. "You gotta understand, I had to care about the humans, I had to make some hard calls."

I waved a claw to dismiss it. "I can't cry over every life not under my protection. If I'd been in your place, I'd have done the same. But now, I have these." I stretched slightly, fluttering my wings and causing the truck to shimmy. "First thing upon waking up like this, your kind tried to kill me. I don't intend to let that happen. But go on, the trolls, where did they come from?"

"A couple of weeks ago we discovered," Robert took a breath, eyes losing focus as he sank into the memory, "we lost some outposts on the edge of our turf. It was… it was not pretty. We figured something had changed, we were right. They came from the forest at night, and at first that's what they did, until we fought them back. We proved trouble enough that they sought somewhere else to go. We chased them out of our territory, but didn't want them coming back. To be honest we were going to leave them be once they were far enough away, but then we met your forces. The rest is history."

"Not pretty?" I asked. There was a shout from outside, and I felt the truck change course, then come to a halt.

"I think you're gonna find out," said Robert grimly as the engine shut off.

***

Once again, I was struck with the anthropocentric nature of my world's change as I heaved myself out of the truck, lowering myself one lumbering step at a time to the gravel roadway. The scenery we had been driving through, when I turned around to look behind us to where we'd come from, was lush meadows and winding hills that had obviously been at one time merely the well-tended, watered and manicured outskirts of a gated community but was now a vast expanse separating every oversized mansion from not only the others but everything else man-made.

The sun was high above what was otherwise idyllic and picturesque surroundings, the kind of pleasant scenery that the rich and otherwise well-to-do highly desired in carefully delineated moderation, that formed the kind of physical barriers that kept the poor and unwanted well and truly out, but our new world had turned it all into a still beautiful but now expansive wilderness untouched by the hand of man. Though not by beast.

I stretched fully, raising one wing after the other, rolling and twisting and turning, my bones popping and cracking until I let out a low, rumbling growl as my tail vibrated. I yearned to fly, to swoop and dive across the greens, browns, reds, blues, yellows… I needed my cave, my solitude — sans the ever-present kobolds which I'd learned to see as necessary furniture and bedclothes by their own insistence at being so — but I also needed to hunt, to soar on the wing. However, that would have to wait.

Large, wrought-iron metal gates lay on the ground, torn from their hinges, the hinges and the wall too scattered next to them, the bricks smashed, the mortar crumbled. My nostrils flared as my head whipped around and I stared.

"Caught it, have you?" Robert said, stepping cautiously away from my lashing tail. I looked at him quizzically, eyes unfocused for a second. "Th-the spore, troll stink."

I tried to breathe, to untangle my thoughts which were suddenly racing, unfocused, but it only made it worse. Drawn onwards by some odor that at first I didn't even recognize as foul, I felt my nostrils flare again as I huffed through them, like a dog. Something big had torn through those gates like they were paper. No, somethings, plural. Rubble wasn't just strewn about, it was crushed and buried, underfoot.

I wandered around in fits and starts, dragging at the ground with my claws, taking long, deep breaths. My quarry had been here. They had dared leave their mark on my territory. My conscious brain was just along for the ride, but it put the signs together for me as I tracked the movements of the horde of trolls. They'd come along through the meadows, not exactly a bee-line but direct enough, on their trek. If I traveled back along their actual route I was sure I'd find more evidence of their passage, but the thought of doing that now was out of the question. Oh no, I had to tell the world that I wouldn't stand for this sort of thing.

As I blinked back those nictitating membranes of mine and my vision cleared, I woke to find I was… marking my territory to get rid of the troll's spore and claim. I needed to go, so… I did a lot of marking. Humans didn't like it, they could go hang. Everyone with a nose had to learn whose place this was, after all. As I shook myself out and the last drops away, I looked through my recent memories before my… blackout? Disconcerting. File that away for later, I reasoned that the trolls had come from the meadows, headed more or less directly for this place. As I followed their stink I saw immediately why. They'd torn through the building like a hot knife through very bloody butter, to get at the chewy, crunchy center within.

Remains of humans — and non-humans — were scattered here and there, but all of them were less than a mouthful for something like me. A foot, part of a hand, a piece of scalp with hair, a gnawed-on tail or a claw, ribs… before the trolls, there had been people here. Afterwards, just the kind of trash you find the morning after any party, just in this case the remains of the chicken drumsticks weren't chicken drumsticks but the former inhabitants.

I noted idly that the massive double doors of this house, as massive as the doors on my previous apartment, were now far too small to admit me entry. Not that it mattered, two walls were torn down, the floors above partially collapsed, so I walked through them. My nose idly tracked blood spatter, urine and feces from multiple races, mostly human. I could also smell, under that, sweat and desperation. Whoever had lived here had had a harem of mostly females, along with what had been his family. I could tell by the remnants of their scent that they were related, at least.

Peering into rooms as I shouldered my way through the remains of the mansion, I could see the occupants hadn't made it out. Not at least… well, they'd obviously been carried out as it were, but by that didn't count as 'escape' so much as 'evacuated'. Eventually. Nobody was alive in here, everybody and everything edible had been killed and eaten and most of everything had been destroyed.

Further in, I found a panic room stuffed with cash, jewels, some guns and human remains I could more or less identify. So that's what had happened to the Sicario. At some point during the collapse, he'd holed up in his mansion with his party girls — I could also smell the drugs that still littered this place — and either deliberately or accidentally had gotten himself more or less cut off from his people in the city.

I was still following troll spore as I shouldered my way back out of the house again, looking over a deep and impressive natural lagoon that had been at one time simply a pool carved from the natural rock that surrounded this place, and my gaze fixed on the ravine in the distance.

That's where they'd gone. Maybe they'd smelled the water, maybe they'd had some other sixth sense, maybe something or somebody else had been guiding them, but they'd decided to lair up in what had to be troll heaven.

"They're down there," I rumbled, as people filtered in around me. "There's nothing interesting up here, this whole place is a wreck. That pool's mine though, I advise your guys to swim in it whilst they can if they're planning to, because once I get in, I'm not getting out. Today we rest, plan and make ourselves ready. We're going in tonight, right?"

"Yep," said Robert. "I'll send a few scouts to see if we can spot anything ahead of time, but if they have any inkling we're coming, if they have any smarts at all, they'll be hiding in plain sight. We won't know they're there until it's too late. We're not good enough, yet, at this. If we wait any longer though, I know they'll be all that much harder to get rid of."

"It's not going to be easy," I said thoughtfully. "Trolls are bulletproof."

"Mostly. Mostly bulletproof," Robert disagreed. I raised one eye-ridge. "They're bullet resistant, let's say. We haven't had much success, but like I said, we weren't planning on extermination. At least originally. We have, though, taken a few down. Explosives, traps, overwhelming force. Even then, it's been a job for every man we can muster."

I rumbled contentedly as I stretched again. "This time it will be different. Not because your men aren't enough, but because we have so much more than just bullets. I'll be needing you and your guys' expertise, you'll be needing our guys' abilities. Go find Wally, he's just the kobold for the job."

"Kobold?"

"He used to be human."

"Oh? Changed with the—"

"No, he died." I started walking to the lagoon, then turned to look over my shoulder. "He died, but he got better."

I turned back to the inviting waters, leaving Robert's mouth hanging open as he bluescreened.

 

[turbofluffysnek]

since I was asked this question elsewhere:

Oh man, I've done you guys a disservice since I've not properly explained what I mean by 'truck' all this time. I'm sorry about that!

When he was first changed, then he could have (with a lot of trouble) fit inside the back of a flatbed pickup, albeit a large one as he was severely under-nourished and a lot smaller.

After he ate his way into a freezer and fell into a food coma for however-many-days (he thinks he was there only the one day or so, it was quite a few more) he started growing, so even by when he was first captured, it would've been a real squeeze.

The Stokerville Militia actually dragged his butt into a cattle truck, where at the time he had plenty of room to move. He ruined that one and turned it into his temporary lair, but now it would be far from large enough to comfortably sleep in.

He essentially needs (and has) a large, covered cattle truck in the vein of something like Family of Medium Tactical Vehicles - Wikipedia. It's loud, uncomfortable (for anybody other than him, there aren't seats) and doesn't really carry anybody else but him and wheover he wants to talk to at the time, and soon he won't even fit in that. If they can even run the thing (the Sunset forces control the fuel depot, so...)

For those keeping score, he currently (as of chapter about 3.30) weighs a good bit more than an adult male bull elephant, so somewhere between 5 - 10 tonnes, or in imperial, somewhere between 10k - 20k lbs.

he wouldn't fit through even large (human scale) double doors now, and will only get larger.

The only reason he fit into the McMansion was most of it was already torn down and the rest falling on his head didn't really bother him, so he could go through the walls like the trolls did.

 

[turbofluffysnek]

short one for you, second half of which should be coming sooner rather than later.
***

First Bastion, pt.1

Bear reared up and roared, swatting left and right with his massive dinner-plate sized paws as he sent gnolls and worgs both flying. He weaved in and around several of the human members of the Sunset forces as they wielded their dragon-herding lances, now put to herding the canids.

The snarling worgs on one side were pressed into a rough group by Gully as he stood defiant over several large but still much smaller males, whereas Cindy stood with her hind paws on the neck of more than one large female gnoll.

There was a momentary lull as the two groups of enemies attempted to regroup, which was overtaken by a suddenly booming, oddly echoing voice.

"Hear me, Green, grow and twist, ensnare and tangle!"

Owen stepped forwards, massive raven on his shoulder as he raised his staff into the air, the jewel within shining like a beacon, and then brought it down to slam into the sod beneath. There was a bright glow of light that spread out light green lightning to form a roughly circular shape beneath the surrounded gnolls and worgs, and then the greenery beneath went wild. Vines and creepers all but exploded from the verdant ground, covering the now-cowering foes, tying them up tight so they could barely move.

"Resist more, and I'll kill you," growled Cindy, glaring at the gnolls.

"You answer to Gully now," Gully snarled at the worgs. "My pack. I lead. Gully! King of all worgs! Emperor! Bow!"

The resistance from the four and mostly two-legged opponents to the Sunset forces faltered, and then fell. Cindy grinned, and leaned closer. "We know you've got more goblins out there, trying to surround us. Tell 'em to put their weapons down and we won't have to hurt them too."

Nod decided to scooch right up to the gnoll beneath Cindy's paw. "You know what this is?" He brought out a small box with a button on it. He grinned as the squirming female scowled at him. "I press this, a lotta things go boom." He made an explosion noise in his mouth, yellowed teeth wide in a massive grin. "I'd really, really like to push this… but I kinda promised the big boss I wouldn't create too much trouble. So if you'd like to avoid having a lot less friends around, tell 'em to put their weapons away and come out where we can see 'em, cos we're all gonna be friends, y'hear?" He stepped back as the gnolls went slack, one after another. "Besides, nothing saying we can't have a few good explosions as training, right?"

Nod grinned even wider, so wide it seemed his head was in danger of unzipping, as some very interested goblins stepped into the clearing. After that, there was only really one thing left to be done. Lucy hopped off of Smash and walked carefully to a bush. She peered at it carefully.

"What's that you got there, little lady?" asked Frankie, one claw idly patting Bear.

"You can come out, you know," Lucy said resolutely, putting her hands on her hips. She paused, head cocked. "No, I don't think eating me is a good idea. It would make a lot of doggies and puppies really really mad and then they would hurt you a lot. And then I'd get better. Yes, even if you killed me and ate me all up. No, I wouldn't like it at all, I'm sure it would be terrible."

"Who are you… Lucy get back!" Frankie immediately brought his gun up as the panther-like creature shimmered into view. Lucy spun, jumped in front of his raised weapon and put her arms out.

"No! Stop! She's just worried. She was just trying to protect her cubs." Lucy turned back to the coeurl and put a hand out. "Don't worry, you can live here. Yes, you can hunt here! Just don't hunt people. And that means any peoples! Not the humans, not the lizards, not the fuzzy puppies, not Bear! Not the nice doggies… you will be nice doggies now too, right, and not bad doggies?"

Frankie watched, bemused, as the little girl spun and stomped over to the worgs still trapped in the grasping vines. All he heard was a number of whines and whimpers, but it seemed to placate Lucy, who turned back to the panther-creature.

"Umm, I don't know if I can, but… but if you want to be my kitty, then you'll know who you can and can't eat, alright? Y-yes, your cubs too, if you want, they'll be safe if they have people to look after them, won't they, mister Nod? Like you look after your puppies?"

"I, uh, you want to tame these… uh, what are these?"

"They're coeurl, goblin Nod," said Nalsi, chuckling darkly, unable to do much else from the absurdity of it, "and usually they're the furthest thing from something you can tame, but our little princess of the forest here is the furthest from a usual human I've met. But yes, lady coeurl, if you can understand me, you and your kith and kin are safe with us. You will be treasured, fed, respected." The little kobold kneeled in front of the coeurl to get closer to the creature's muzzle. "Just like my Smash, here. Ask him, if you wish." Nalsi stretched out a hand to one side of her, and her bullette rose up from the ground to meet it. She rubbed his nose fondly. There was a growling, rumbling, snarling conversation of sorts between the two, and finally the coeurl bowed her head to Lucy, who smiled as she put a hand on the creature's muzzle.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "That's so strange! I can hear you in my head now!" She moved around to the side of the creature, then hopped up onto its back. "Alright! Let's go get your cubs, they're bound to be hungry! I think I'll call you Midnight, would you like that?"

With an answering yowl, Lucy and her mount disappeared into the Dread Forest as if she hadn't a care in the world. Which, seeing as she was riding an apex predator able to become invisible at will, was more than likely the case.

Nod shrugged and turned back to the goblins, gnolls and worgs. "Alright my lovelies," he said, grinning, "since my esteemed chief Rarix ain't here, I'm the one who gets to make you an offer wot you won't be refusin'."

He squatted down near to a sneering gobliness and waved the handheld box-and-button at her. "Yeah, I kinda lied about this one, but I didn't lie—" he pushed the button, and moments later was ducking away from a distant, yet still loud explosion. He looked at the box in his hand and sighed. "Right, who did that?"

"Err, thought it was a good idea at the time?" piped up Tak, the nervous looking young goblin holding a scraggly hand in the air. Nod slapped his face.

"Tell me at least everybody else knew they was armed?" Nod scowled, glaring at the chuckling members of his squad.

"Ehh, probably," said Rat, his fellow demo specialist, waggling his own hand somewhat level in front of him.

"Right, you two jokers go make sure the rest of our ordnance is safe."

"Wot, alone?" asked Tak.

"Yeah."

"But… we might die, out there in the forest!" Rat complained.

"You'll definitely die right here if you don't, you fecking gobshites, now git!"

"Sah!" both young goblins shouted, saluting, before they scrambled over each other to disappear.

"Seriously. Shit I put up with. So, you'll understand when I sez you's gets a good offer to join up, right?"

"Alright," grumbled the female goblin in front of him. "Make yer pitch."

 

[turbofluffysnek]

Not entirely happy with this one, but the saga of work being mad before the summer freeze continues. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

First Bastion, Pt.2

The forces of Sunset, swelled as they now were with the still somewhat surly but at least well-behaved additional members of a squad of goblins and a pack of gnolls and worgs, marched through the forest.

"I think this is it boys an girls," said Nod, "let's do Rarix and the big boss proud!"

"Unfirling flags, sah!" said one goblin

"Starting up the warchant! Hup two three four…"

Sunset Forces start to sing,
Worship to the dragon king!

Black his scales, poison breath,
If you see him, it means death.

He's a dragon, yes it's true,
Piss him off and he'll eat you!

Our big boss is mighty fine,
Melting faces all the time.

Met some humans, had some fun,
Now the human world is done.

He's a dragon, yes it's true,
Piss him off and he'll eat you!

Tried to shoot him with a gun,
He just found that kinda fun.

He ripped out guts and tore off legs,
Bit and chewed off all their heads!

He's a dragon, yes it's true,
Piss him off and he'll eat you!

The chant continued in that vein, getting bloodier and more ridiculous with every verse until the whole company came to a loose halt outside a rough palisade made of sharpened stakes tied down with vines and decorated with bones, not yet bleached by the sun.

"Hrrmmm, are we there now?" Lucy asked, stretching from where she lay on the back of the coeurl, curled around three cubs, all of them held in place by wound tentacles.

"Looks a bit rough," said Frankie, patting Bear. "Don't get me wrong," Frankie nodded to Ghark and Yozz, "it'd do its job pretty well if it were for your guys armor for Bear. And our arts."

"Learnt some new tricks, baby-eater?" Ghark asked. Frankie shook his head.

"A few, nothing impressive." Frankie paused as Bear rumbled something incomprehensible behind his armor and hackamore bridle. "Ah, er, egg-stealin' scum."

Yozz elbowed Ghark, cackling. "He's learning, Ghark. We'll have 'im be a proper baby-eater in no time."

"Alright, alright, shut up you lot!" called Nod. "I won't have Rarix skinnin' me over you lot lackin' discipline! Besides, don't want to set a bad example for our newest recruits, do we?"

A ragged raucous, rude cheer went up through the thronged Sunset forces as Nod got up onto a handy rock. "Oi, you lot in there," he called out in Goblin, "I come in the name of his excellency, the Black Dragon of Sunset! And I have the distinct… pleasure," Nod's mouth twisted as though he wasn't entirely sure of that, "of welcoming you into our forces."

"You and whose army!?" called back a brave yet remarkably dim voice from beyond the palisade. There was a "herk!" sound like somebody had gotten kicked in the gut, then somebody else answered.

"Ya think ye can take us? I'd like ta see ya try!"

Nod grinned. "We're gonna try to keep as many of you as possible alive," he called, "so I'll tell you all now! This is no boast! Our master is a black dragon, and we serve him willingly and with pride! We are not slaves, we are goblins! And… we are kobolds! And men! And gnolls! And worgs!"

As Nod shouted his speech out loud, he gave the order for the combined Sunset forces to attack, one after another. With boisterous war cries, one group after another, they did.

Kobolds flooded over and between the palisades, goblins swarmed through the cracks and the humans stormed up in squads. Just as the combined goblins, gnolls and wargs of the encampment were getting used to that, they found their more feral companions — who were initially thought of as their first line of defence and ace in the hole — were driven back by a truly monstrous gnoll queen driving herself and her pack through the palisades, smashing aside the barriers like they were matchsticks.

Gutrot found herself barking orders left and right as the enemy forces stormed their position. Ever since finding themselves in this strange land, she'd had to pull together her disparate people. She was aware that not all of the goblins, gnolls and worgs were from her original tribe, indeed they seemed to be from adjacent planes, but she'd done her best… and now they were being attacked not only by more goblins seeking to take away what she'd scraped together, but by humans and, most pathetic of all, kobolds!

"They've got nothing on us! Nothing! All they have is a few meager kobolds!" Gutrot shouted encouragement.

"Don't underestimate kobolds!" shouted a voice, in goblin of all things. She looked up, to see a human vault over a barrier and throw himself at her.

"What is this?" she scoffed, "A human cub talking goblin? Is your tribe so weak they must field children?"

"I'm not a human! I'm a kobold!" the strange little human cubling replied, once more in halting goblin.

A neat trick, Gutrot sniffed, teaching the manlings of this world to speak a proper language, but that would not do much to impress, nor to protect the cub from playing at being a warrior. She raised her blade to meet the inevitable dagger attack the boy would lead with, but the boy twisted in the air, maneuvered himself around her jab, gripped his legs around her body and almost flowed up her frame, his arms fastening around her neck to grab, pivot and throw. As the world spun around her, she realized she'd made a mistake somewhere, though wasn't quite sure where, as almost with a contemptuous flick of his legs, sent her pinwheeling into three more goblins. The last thing she saw before blackness claimed her was the heavy ball of a kobold tail-weapon, affixed to a club, slamming into her face.

Huh, she thought idly, the boy isn't lying. That's a kobold fighting techn—

***

Vengis watched dispassionately as the mixed company systematically dismantled all the opposition against them, but knew it wouldn't be enough for the victory they desired. There were too many enemies, a four or five to one imbalance on the other side, such that even with the training their forces had undergone, and the force multiplier — he liked the dragon's word — of their Arts, the Sunset forces' triumph would not be swift or decisive enough before things would get desperate and people would die, likely on both sides.

He would have to step in.

He searched deep inside his soul for just the right spell, finding one which might be enough, but… but it was still lacking. Before, he would have called upon himself, his own powers, his own connection to the Unseen, but now, now he had not only an alternative but a driving need to do something different, better. He raised one paw high in the air, summoned his magic, and slammed it down into the ground, sending his spirit deep, deep into the earth. There was a rumbling, shaking pressure as a menhir forced its way up from the depths, purple light flickering around it in a coruscating halo as occult designs burned their way into its rough surface. There was a brief, palpable pulse of light as the guardian monument activated. Wounds healed in the Sunset forces. Breaths lightened. Steps quickened. But it wasn't enough. No, Vengis would need to do more.

He dove deep into his psyche. He had pledged himself to another, thoughtlessly, but had been rewarded for it. He doubted his master knew how Vengis himself felt about that link. It wasn't something as based as lust, no, but there was a magnetism there, an attraction, a love. He would follow that dragon anywhere, not because he had pledged it, but because the dragon had given him something so freely, asking so little. His blood, his life, belonged to the dragon. And that was the key. And realizing it opened the floodgates.

He leaned into his connection with the black dragon, sending to his master a wish for aid, for power. Not for himself, but for his comrades. For a brief moment, that connection faltered, as if Vengis plea had been rebuffed, cast aside, but then it came. Still waters run deep, he thought to himself, and his lord's waters ran so very, very deep these days.

The power welled up within Vengis' feeble body like he were a balloon, fit to burst, then flooded out in a tidal wave, a tsunami of scintillation. Vengis felt it immediately; before this day, he had been a bard. Now, he was a priest just as much, spreading the word and power of his master.

The magic exploded from him, resonating with the menhir, and crackling out to the sunset forces. Here, a spear-wielding human's swiping blow blasted a rock apart as a new paladin smote it. There, a goblin rogue ducked between machete-swings that should've taken their head off, slipping between shadows. Skin turned bark-hard and deflected blades. Kobolds breathed fire, leaping on fiery wings, and a feywild princess on the back of a demon-cat laughed as she coaxed the very earth itself to entrap and ensnare her foes.

"Be healed!" cried Owen, as he stood beside Vengis, the massive raven-shaped Harry on his shoulder, and the forces of Sunset that had been nursing broken bones or frantically tying off tourniquets gasped as pain left their bodies. The exhausted found a spring in their step, their movements became more sure, their arrows more piercing, their swings and blows more penetrating and powerful, and in seeming moments the resistance fell, and the goblin encampment was conquered.

***

Gutrot opened her eyes as a kobold healer took his hands off her. She looked over to the general who'd been commanding the invading forces, glancing around at all the denizens of the camp as they lay about in surly groups, guarded by the invaders. "So what, you save my life so you can torture me? Have me wailing as you string me up?" She spat. "I'll do no such thing. You won't hear me sing! If I can't slit your throats I'll certainly slit my own."

Nod shook his head. "Naa, waste of good officer material, that is."

"What, you think I'll just grovel at your feet?"

"Don't want groveling either," Nod replied. "Our boss's a bit of a weirdo, but you'll like him. Not least because he can give you your arts back."

Gutrot glared. "Fucking mages. I hate it, being weak like the human scum."

"It's fucking awful, ain't it, being without your skills? Well we can give you 'em back. If you just sign up. Got a few conditions though."

Gutrot narrowed her eyes. "What's the catch? You just expect me to dance in a fucking circle making kissy faces? Crawl on my hands and knees every day of my life?"

"The first'd be fun enough in the sack," Nod licked his lips whilst Gutrot bared her teeth. "The second's not something I'll stop you doing if that's how you get your yucks," Nod leered again to another snarl.

"Go on then, what's the catch?"

Nod grinned, taking a deep breath. He stood up. "Alright then. First of all, human scum? Yeah, you'll prolly wanna stop doing that. Well, maybe not. You'll see, cos I'm uniquely positioned here to offer you a chance you won't see anywhere else. Listen up, maggots, cos this is how it goes. Our glorious boss, the Black Dragon of Sunset, asks only three things of you. Firstly, you must promise not to harm, through inaction or inaction, any of us. Second, when the boss asks you to do something, you gotta do it, unless he asks you to break the first law. And third, you can die bravely all you want, but you gotta try to keep yourself alive and in one piece, got it? And in return? Oi, Varyx, ya filthy baby eater, get over here!"

Varyx, a smallish scarred kobold with enough knives on him that if he sneezed he'd likely turn anyone near him into salsa, leered as, with a single step, he appeared next to Nod. "What's up, egg-stealer?"

"Want to tell the lovely boys and girls here what they win?"

"You get your skills back, that's what. And if you think not being allowed to kill each other's too boring, don't worry, we're taking over the world. There's a lot of it to fight. And you can fight it better if you're not bottom feeders. Even egg-stealers like you scum are allowed under the wings of our glorious monarch."

Nod grinned. "So waddaya say?"

There was a chorus of 'aye's, and then a ragged cheer went up from the old and then newly combined Sunset forces.

"Alright then, I proclaim this here the East Bastion. Clean yerselves up, cos when his majesty gets back from subjugating the human city over yonder, I want him to be proud of this shit-hole. And besides, I want to get a start on our Western Enclave too, so I can finally see the backs of you baby-eaters, ain't that right?"

"Fuck you too, Nod," said Varyx, laughing as he lashed his tail.

"Righto, before all that though, time to get fucking shitfaced!"

"What about the dead?" asked Gutrot. "Gotta bury 'em first."

"Any of them worth anything? If so, we bring 'em back." Nod narrowed his eyes. "Might not be gobbos when they come back, but if it'll smooth things over, I think the dragon won't mind the expense."

Gutrot blinked. "You can do that?"

"One way or another, yeah. It's a strange new world we find ourselves in."

Gutrot stared as the strangely amiable goblin wandered off to shout at people. Things felt wrong in so many ways; there weren't knife-fights, nobody was being beaten behind the tents, no prisoners were screaming for their lives or whimpering quietly, broken… but maybe this wasn't all bad. A new world, huh? A new world that could bring back the dead? And these powers could maybe be had by her and her crew? Not the worst that could happen. Alright, time to see where it lead.

 

[turbofluffysnek]

The usual apologies for not much content. The same excuse as always, work's been mental. I promise I'll try to do better.

Path of Conquest

Simmons wandered up to the lake, and the leather-clad biker leader waiting there by the dark shore. "What's up," he asked, "You wanted to see me?"

Robert turned to him, making gestures, and Simmons understood as they both peered out over the waters.

"How do we, uhh, get him out of there? Can't hardly go in after him, can we? Even if he wasn't an acid spraying dragon, he's still a dragon."

Simmons looked out over the deep, placid waters. The dragon had been underwater for the last few hours, and other than the odd long swirl out in the middle, not a scale had been seen, and it was now starting to get dark.

"Ah, he wouldn't intentionally hurt you," Simmons offered, scratching his nose thoughtfully, not that the thought 'diving into a lake after a dragon' was a good idea either.

"Yeah, the world's cuddliest tyrant king I'm sure. Pretty sure that water'd melt the flesh off my bones, intention or not even so."

Simmons snorted, looking at where the vegetation along the shore was already going brown. He had no idea how that was possible, given the size of the lake, but the dragon was turning the lake into a poisonous swamp in no time flat. Not that it seemed to be killing the wildlife, which were surprisingly spry still. Was it changing them too, like the world had been? A chill went up his back as he considered that.

"Hmph, good point. Let me see… I'm not gonna throw rocks at him obviously. How about the old oar technique? Did you see a boat around here? I'll hike back up and find something otherwise…"

"Yeah, no, I got it." Robert whistled, then yelled for an oar from an upturned boat further around the shore. When the two bikers turned up with one of the oars, Robert looked at it sheepishly. "You sure this is safe?"

"We-ell…"

"I noticed he didn't exactly promise not to eat any of us…"

Simmons took the oar, and then raised it over his head and heaved. It slapped back down into the lake water with a splash. Simmons did it again, then again. He was counting up close to double digits before the still, dark water started to churn.

***

I floated in the cool darkness, my body at rest, driven only by the gentle currents that swirled this deep, currents which were few and far between. I could feel it around me, my domain expanding with every sunken breath. This place would bend not to my will, but my presence. Without conscious thought, or effort, I felt the world stretching and molding itself to my whims.

Vines and creepers grew thick and clutching, monstrous fish flitted past my scales with teeth bared. Crustaceans, grown large and menacing, meandered through the muck and burrowed into the soft, grasping silty mud of the bottom of the lake. Other creatures came, heeding my call; pooka and creatures akin to selkies, boggarts and boojums, leeches that would grow fat on the blood of men, great slimy toads that fed off the abundant bugs, and snakes and other reptiles and lizards, one and all they felt the pull of my mense. Had they been human? Did they come from worlds afar? I knew not, only that they came, and here they would make their home. Whether I returned or not after this night, I had left my mark upon this place. The world had been bent, stretched and folded by powers from beyond, and now in no small way did the world respond in kind when I meditated upon that, as the cool, dark waters continued to caress my body.

A rhythmic pounding on the surface of the lake, at the shore, so very far away above, drew me out of my musings and I surged up to meet the call. As my head broke the surface, I saw a wide-eyed Simmons and similarly skittish Robert freeze like a deer in headlights. Very like a deer, except one of them had a wooden paddle stretched above their heads. I was hungry. This had better be important, I reasoned, for them to break the first rule of bothering dragons, namely don't.

"Ahhh, er, good… good evening," Simmons squeaked out, shaking slightly as he moved to put the oar down. I blinked my third eyelid open and fastened my gaze on him, rumbling slightly in the back of my throat.

"It's getting dark," I said, holding my poise still for a moment before surging up onto the shore to one side of the pair, water and muck sloughing off my body in a torrent that had them both stepping back. "How go the preparations?"

They shared a look before Robert spoke up. "It's been an experience, I'll say that. Still feels weird, but my boys are getting used to the way you guys fight. They'll be ready."

I turned my head around on my long neck to look downstream into the near distance, where a yawning chasm beckoned. "And what of our quarry?"

"We've had some scouts down there, Rob's boys're leading the way. They know what they're looking for."

"I know those creatures are there, I trust you'll find them." I fought hard to keep the snarl out of my voice. "I can smell them. Do you know where, exactly?"

"We-we think so," Robert answered, flicking a lock of his hair out of his eyes. "Can't be sure we've spotted them all, not until sundown, but they're in the ravine, at the bottom. There's no easy way down, not for all of us. We've got some ropes, but—"

"Or there wasn't," said Simmons, interrupting. "The 'bolds have a way down, but it's a one-time thing, more or less."

Robert and Simmons shared a look, the latter grinned. "We got four or five of 'em can… well, three more can fly outright, they've got wings, getting kit down one pack at a time'll be possible for 'em. They'll have to take breaks, they're not the strongest, but they're wiry little bastards, they'll step up. The others? I'm told they can at least get our boys down one at a time safely in less than a minute per. They can't exactly fly, but they can… float. At least they can take a load off, make climbing down a breeze. Getting back up and out again'll be a trial without some rest, but I guess this is a do or die thing, huh? If we're getting out at all, we'll have the time."

I peered up at the heavens. The sun wouldn't actually 'set' as such, but in a few hours, it would be gone. From my understanding, that would be when these trolls would show themselves. "Then prepare. Get your men, decide who's going down. I want to know what you think about a three-pronged attack. Four, if we're being precise." I held up a claw, but Simmons and Robert were already nodding.

"Send one group down the wall," said Robert.

"Whilst another gives ranged support," added Simmons. "But… the rest?"

"I want a mixed contingent, mounted, to see if they can… go around, head down into the chasm from the other side, catch the scum in a pincer, I don't want them escaping."

Both men nodded at this.

"Might work, might be a way down," said Simmons.

"Not all our rides're suitable, but we should be able to come up with something. And the… the fourth prong?"

"The tip of the spear," I said, curling my lips and showing my teeth, green poisonous sludge dripping from between my fangs. "Me." I furled my wings from where they'd spread, an unconscious threat display, as I un-flexed my claws. I'd left huge divots in the rocky ground where I'd clenched them into fists. "Eat hearty, my minions, for the forces of Sunset go to war."

 

[turbofluffysnek]

Warpath

The camp, setup in and around the ruins of the Sicario's mansion, was a hive of activity. I noticed with a bit of a snort three sets of food being prepared, very much distant from each other for one reason or another, though I noticed a flow of customers between all three. One selection was the normal fare for humans; tough sausages almost like jerky from being smoked and dried, cooked into a stew with hardy vegetables in a thick stock. Another was mostly frequented by the kobolds and a good number of the goblins that made up the majority of my non-human forces, this was where I planned to break my evening fast, with huge bowls of my favorite kibble-and-dogfood stews on offer. The greenery under my claws smoked as I started drooling, but I did little to stop it. I was hungry, after all. The third was mostly goblins, and they had… locally sourced meat. I would be making a stop there too, and anybody who didn't like it could look away.

Food was eaten. Small talk was made. Plans were cemented. And then we moved out. The atmosphere was somber, for my minions knew what was coming — fighting, pain, and death. They had seen it wasn't the end, but outside of my minions, those from the base, I could see they didn't all believe it. They were scared, but they would fight for me. I couldn't let them down. We had to succeed.

Three buggies and a few braver bikers headed off to the East, curling around to seek out a way down from that end of the ravine, hoping that the river flowing from that direction would result in a slope downwards they could take advantage of. Definitely Pete and his goblin buddy riding in the back of one of the former. The main contingent headed straight down to the ravine, itself a journey of an hour or so. Those who could ride solo did, not that that provided much more than a way to keep off their feet for a while longer. The larger trucks that my Base forces had brought along transported as much of our useful materiel as possible. I didn't ride in the trucks. Neither did I do something as pedestrian as walk. I flew.

My stomach rumbled and churned from my meal, making getting off the ground harder than it needed to be, but as the trucks, bikes and buggies roared into life, I couldn't help but join in with their chorus. With a triumphant, echoing call, I first ambled, then trotted, then galloped downhill before throwing myself into the sky with massive, heavy sweeps of my wings. I flapped them slowly and methodically as I circled to gain height, finding myself in the low, black clouds within minutes.

I watched from the skies as the motorized procession made its slow way across the fields, occasionally swooping and diving as I surveyed the area closer. Spotting a herd of gone-wild pigs, I half furled my wings and plummeted before leveling off by snapping them open, raking the ground and snagging two sows, one in each foreclaw, and lifting off again, bleeding speed for altitude. Eating on the wing was a messy, wasteful affair, but that was why I'd grabbed two. I'd eaten well before taking to the wing — possibly too well — but the effort to get back into the skies had made me hungry again. Either that, or I was just a growing boy. The pigs helped fill the gap.

It was hard work to change altitude and circle all the time, even with the thermals boiling off the plains, but it was still preferable to sitting inside the cramped confines of whatever the kind of military tactical vehicle-alike it was my men had found. Now my quarry was in sight I didn't want to spend however long unkinking my back. No matter that it was at least rated for my weight, I just didn't fit comfortably in it any more. The first vehicle I'd been moved in, back when I'd first been 'captured' by Sarge and the Stokerville Militia, had been a medium sized cattle truck that was now too small for me to do more than stick my head into, but back then I would have just about fit into the back of a large pickup. Now, the behemoth they'd picked up that was probably some sort of army surplus wasn't really cutting it any more. I'd have to get used to flying. The number of vehicles that could carry a dragon, especially one weighing double-digit tons, were vanishingly small, and that was if we could afford the gas. Whether we had a refinery or not, stretching my wings cost me a lot less, and set the right tone. Besides, I didn't want to become some fat dragon upon a hoard fed by kobold paw. That wouldn't do at all, no matter how easy it would be.

The procession finally pulled up at the edge of the gully and the passengers piled out of their assorted rides. Heavy pitons were driven deep into the rocks at the lip and ropes were swiftly tied off to loops at the ends, and in a very short space of time, instruction was being given about how to get to the bottom of the ravine in one piece. More than one of the men were grabbed by a helpful kobold, tail-wrapped very tightly before the kobold simply leaped off the edge, their passengers screaming as they fell in slow motion, the shock of such a move enough to loosen the lips of even the toughest of bikers, especially when a number of them were more than burly enough that the kobold didn't have a hope in hell of getting back up carrying them, and it took all they could to hit the bottom at a manageable speed. I couldn't help but chuckle, even as I lamented the potential loss of stealth, intrigued by how I felt the pulses of their magic ringing through the local area, resonating with something not so much in my body somehow inside me, a part of me. I wondered if that would be what gave us away to the trolls, if they had this sense too. Too late to turn back, and I wouldn't even if I could, those trolls needed to be put in their place.

I wheeled and dove as twilight receded into night proper, and the men descending into the ravine lit it up with powerful torches. The scrabbling of claws on rock and the splash of limbs in water told me they were searching upstream. I swooped overhead and peered into the darkness; I could see in pitch black, but the lights were playing merry hell with my vision. They weren't affecting my nose, however. Using a combination of both, I scanned the territory. The bottom of the ravine was quite wide, with banks either side of the rushing torrent in the center filled with a mixture of scree and vegetation. The walls of the ravine were pock-marked with caves and cubby holes, boulders sized from bowling balls to multi-meter-thick hay-bales dotted the landscape. There would be room to move, and I had room to stretch my wings, but we were all — trolls and my forces alike — confined to the ravine, and the ground at its banks.

"There!" I roared, pointing, as I went for my third pass. Dozens of pairs of eyes peered up at me, and then focused where my claws were pointing. I could smell them before I saw them, a disgusting miasma of rotting flesh and bodily waste surrounded a group of five or six massive forms, each many times larger than a human being, with one rivaling even myself in mass, the 'king' troll being around twenty foot tall at the shoulder. How they had hidden, I didn't know, but now they were spotted.

Their hair was a matted mane reaching across their heads and down their backs, at this distance I couldn't tell if it was black, brown, green or blue, but I wasn't sure I'd have known in full daylight either, seeing as it was filthy, often tied into something approaching dutch braids and adorned with various fetishes in the form of bones, pieces of metal that might have once been weapons or guns, semi-precious stones and the like. Thick, muscular tails with tufts at the end hung down behind them. Their hands were claw-like and their ears were as prominent as their fangs in their strangely humanoid faces, offset by a variety of different horns that protruded from their heads.

"Fukken gettem, lads!" shouted Robert, as an answering order in goblin and draconic came from his counterparts, echoed by a ragged cheer in all my forces as they surged forwards to take their places. Bedlam ensued almost immediately, with Possibly Brian outpacing most of them as he threw himself at one of the smaller side trolls before they could circle, a group of my guys with him hauling ten to flank. He sliced and diced at the creature with a wickedly sharp, curved blade he'd picked up from goodness knows where, probably one of the elves we'd been fighting what seemed like forever ago. Brian kicked himself off the troll, and a hail of gunfire tore into the troll's body. Individually the bullets didn't have much effect, and even Brian's deep, if amateur, slashes weren't much more than an annoyance, but together the troll fell to one knee and then crashed onto its side as its shoulder and arm failed.

A rising was rapidly quelled; with growing anger I saw the damned creature start to get up, the bones and sinew knitting together and the wounds starting to close, but a well-aimed if long-traveled fireball from one of my mages lit it up and it thrashed around screaming before eventually it stopped moving. Dead, I hoped. My long, slow-seeming glide had taken little more than a few seconds in real time and I swept over the narrow battlefield, and up, once again out of the ravine before vaulting in the air, circling to gain some stability and diving back down. It was a good thing I did, as now I could finally understand the difficulty Robert had had tracking the filthy creatures. What I had taken as nothing more than lumpy, misshapen rocks were beginning to uncurl and stand up, seeming moss flowering into those matted manes, vines uncurling into those tails. Part camouflage, part natural defence, they were stones one moment and living, breathing creatures the next.

"Ambush!" I roared, and dove down lower, swiping with claws and flicking my tail angrily as I passed. Half a troll burbled half a scream as both halves fell to the ground, one half floating away down the river, my tail-blades having gone through the creature's midsection tearing it in two. I paid for it though, stuck with climbing in a dead rise that had me slamming into the walls of the ravine. I grabbed on with all four claws and got my breath back before, in defiance of gravity, spidered my way around until I was pointed in the right direction to disgorge a torrent of green acid that outright melted another two trolls and weakened three more enough that I felt I had time to get into a better fighting position, namely in the air.

As I climbed, I kept as much of an overwatch as I could. It wouldn't take long for me to get up and out, but when every second counted, it was enough. I had known for a while upon seeing the combat zone that it wouldn't be my place to melee these creatures, not as a first step at least. I was too big, too unwieldy in the relatively cramped confines of this ravine. I would just get in the way of the combined capabilities of my forces, which were considerable. Our major weapon was guns, and I was a big target.

The humans mostly kept back, armed as they were with a mixture of plain bullets, dragon-breath shotgun rounds that were regrettably short ranged but very effective for trolls, and machetes. My kobolds and goblins both were a mixture of melee and support. The 'bolds were quick and heavily armed with a variety of spiked gloves, claw-held blades and maces, and lethal-looking tail-mounted weaponry, but they were also relatively fragile. My goblins were reckless, but seemingly a bit tougher. They were opportunists, taking advantage where my 'bolds and my humans gave them openings. Goblins loved fire, and tonight I was glad of it. As makeshift molotovs and explosives went off, I saw how the trolls recoiled.

"They burn!" I roared, as I crested the lip of the ravine and shook myself out. "So burn them! Burn them all!"

I laughed wickedly as the mage forces on the lip of the ravine opened up. These were rear support, sometimes casting healing spells, sometimes shields, sometimes various physical or mental area of effect, but with their ability to cast fireballs, the squishy humans, who had previously had trouble taking on one or two trolls where said trolls could shrug off bullets and disappear into the shadows for brief moments only to return healed and ready to fight, were facing off against an entire horde… but they were still being slowly beaten back. The trolls, no matter how beastly they looked, weren't stupid animals. They were wily and vicious, accomplished ambush hunters. They rotated between front and rear-guard action, making our headway against their regeneration extremely difficult. Their reach was extraordinary, and we'd already lost half a dozen men and the same again in kobolds and goblins, and in around a minute we lost a dozen more. They fought for me, they fought and they died.

The trolls were brutes, and they were showing it. With a shared battle yell, the larger group split as three of them waded into the hail of bullets, two having dragged up a boulder for a weapon, the third wielding a club that looked like most of a tree-trunk. With a choked cry cut off by a wet squelch, I saw another man go flying through a group of kobolds, the former dead or dying, the latter not much better off. Another's life was snuffed out as he was turned into paste beneath a rock bigger than he was. A growl turned into a snarl; whether I was best suited to strafing from the skies or not, I would not be a coward.

I threw myself down into the ravine, spreading my wings and beating them to gain some semblance of flight before I could hit the water, skimming it with a claw as I widened them to slam into one of the smaller trolls that were now surrounding the majority of my remaining forces. The creature squalled and snarled in my grip, but I held firm as I pulled myself upwards.

"You thought you were just up against humans, but my forces have magic behind them. I have magic of my own." I lowered my head to the creatures ear so it could hear me over the sudden rush of wind.

"Power word," I called out, "scrunch."

I threw back my head and lunged at the creature's filthy, parasite-laden body, my jaws fastening around its midriff as each of my claws twisted in the opposite direction, and I pulled. The troll's roaring turned to screeching screams of pain that petered out into wet gurgling as its legs parted from its sternum, and its spine was separated from the rest of its body inch by inch. I spat the mouthful I had away as I threw the pieces to the winds. I climbed upwards, soon stalling. Ducking my head hadn't helped my flightpath.

"Retreat!" I shouted. I wouldn't have my forces die for nothing. We would recover our dead, and they would see, and then they would know. Those fight and run away, I told myself. I flipped over in the air, then fell upon the remaining trolls boxing my forces in at the rear. I tried to pull up, but I'd lost too much speed, the larger specimen I'd hooked was too large, too heavy. I ripped it to shreds, its regeneration trying to knit its body back together before I put a heavy paw on its head and pushed as I hit the floor of the ravine. Squeals turned to silence as it died, but the other two fell upon me.

"Run!" I shouted, my head rearing above their flailing, "these scum can do nothing to me! Retreat! Regroup!"

The next few moments were nothing but a jumble of impacts, emotion and battle for me, a chorus of blood and injury as I laid waste to the troll rear guard and they did their best to rip my hide from my body, scale by scale. As I snapped and snarled at the last troll beneath me I roared triumphantly, only to see stars as something heavy slammed into my head from behind. Heavy, thick claws grabbed me, snagging a wing, and I snarled and screeched, even as the troll king, all twenty foot high from toe to horn-tip muscle-bound hulk of him, wrenched it, twisted, and the bones shattered in his grasp.

I roared in pain, a nova burning holes in my back, as I flailed, helpless against the creature bear-hugging me from behind. He threw me to the ground, stamping on my limp wing as I fluttered like a bird in a cat's maw, then he grabbed the other. I snarled and roared and flicked my tail, I could tell I was tearing at him with every swipe, but he knew how to stay out of my way. A foot stamped on my neck, his grip tightened on my other wing…

Thunk-a-thunk-a-thunk-a-thunk-a…

The troll roared and his grip loosened as, brought close by the song of the six liter engines, Definitely Pete unleashed his forty caliber monster machine gun from the back of his buggy. With a surge of effort, and a scream of pain, I turned, throwing the troll over. I pushed with my good wing, and rolled on top of the filthy beast beneath me.

Savagely, without restraint, I slammed my claws into him again and again and again and again and again, ripping and tearing with my teeth and claws. Green-black troll blood bubbled under the onslaught as the troll-king fought back, when a meaty fist grabbed my neck and squeezed, his claws digging into my hide under my scales. I choked as a second fist grabbed my neck and the troll-king burbled out a throaty laugh as he tried to throttle me.

Taking what breath I could, I hooked my claws into his mouth and pulled.

"You know the best thing… about… trolls?" I asked throatily, through the pain, before digging deep and vomiting out the next words along with a torrent of boiling acid tinted red with my blood. "You burn."

The troll-king bucked and heaved, but I had him. I dug my claws in deeper, pulling so hard the bottom of his jaw unpeeled down his throat and I belched up a second load of acid, then a third, then a fourth. With a wrench, I tore my neck free of his grasp and lunged, sinking my fangs into his rib cage. I whipped my head to and fro, my neck giving leverage as bones and sinew snapped and tore, and I pulled half his chest free, to disgorge more acid into the gaping wound.

With one final motion, I fastened my jaws around his neck, twisted, and pulled, my claws crushing what was left of his ribcage and chest into the ground. With a jerk, the troll-king went still, gurgling his last death-rattle as whatever had kept his life-force in, whatever had kept his body trying to repair itself finally failed, and his carcass began to melt.

Breathing hard, I spat, then focused on the rest of the trolls. "Death!" I shouted, or… something like that. It may as well have been, and probably was, little more than a wordless scream of rage as I threw myself across the ravine at the next troll, one wing hanging limply but my anger too hot to matter. With a growing collective wail, the trolls' resistance broke as the buggies rolled up, Definitely Pete still firing his oversized machine gun and putting dinner-plate sized holes in the trolls where he hit them.

They retreated to a cave, those that lived, and I dragged myself to the mouth of it, listening to the wails from within.

"No more!" came one voice, unsure, reedy.

I stood at the mouth, just breathing for a moment, then lifted my one good wing, snarling at the pain as I instinctively twitched the other, broken one. "Hold," I said to my forces. Then I leaned forwards, peering into the darkness. "I can see you there, hiding like rats. I want you to understand, there is nowhere you can hide from me. You live in the darkness, but I thrive in it."

"Mercy!" came the wail. I puffed out my cheeks, acid bubbling from the sides.

"I want you to understand something else too," I said. "What do you eat, trolls?" I asked, listening to the mutterings.

"Man," came the grudging reply. I could hear the naked fear in the lone voice that spoke. It was one of the bigger trolls, standing to keep the smaller ones behind it, standing between me and them. I could smell their fear. A female? I didn't know, or care.

"Wrong," I replied. "Not any more. If you touch any of my humans, then I will return, and I will wage war on you and your kind until you are erased from this world. I will tear out your bloodline, root and stem. You will not touch my humans, you will not touch my kobolds, nor my goblins, nor my orcs, nor any creature sworn to me. If you do, this river shall run dark with your blood and ring with the cries of your kin until in the silence that follows there is nothing more than the wind and water, do you hear?" I waited for a long moment before continuing. "In return for accepting these terms, I gift you this ravine. Fish this river, hunt outside of it if you wish, we will leave you alone within and without, but should you make violence upon me or mine, I will end you, do you understand? One hair on the head of my smallest of minions, and your blood will run until the last of your carcasses rots in the dark."

The only answer was a wailing moan of despair. I knew I couldn't make them part of my forces, not yet at least. It was a feeling, one I heeded. The best I could do was this geas, but still I could feel it take hold. If they harmed me or mine, I would know, and they would die.

"So shall it be," I said, and turned away, trying not to limp whilst still in their sight.

I felt it, then, as they fell to their knees in the dark, cursing me but swearing by it. My dominion. My domain. My hold upon the land solidified, crystallized into an almost palpable thing; from the West where the base lay, to the North where mountains reached to touch the sky, to the South where swamps swallowed what used to be farmland, to the East where the rocky desert grew out of the expanded city, it was mine. I was the sole active force powerful enough to stamp my claim upon my demesne. As a result, I had a… slowly growing circle of awareness of the territory around me as my claim took root. It extended up into the sky and down in the ground… though soon enough I felt the tendrils of my being touch the underworld. As my awareness stretched back along the roads we had traveled, I felt The Forest; that territory was not mine, but The Forest was sessile, content to be where and what it was. My will encircled it, but I could still feel where the trolls had come from. There was a gateway there, a doorway, and it led… elsewhere. A similar elsewhere to the underneath, though different in 'flavor'.

I spat blood, stepping away from the view of those rats in their holes, and finally relaxed the iron grip on my body. I sagged, relieved as I felt my kobold attendants throw themselves at me to hold me up.

"Heal me," I whispered, then stifled another roar of pain as my shattered bones were set by merciless paws before a swift healing spell was said over them. My stifled scream turned to a growl. "Thank you," I whispered. I straightened as I noticed my forces just hanging around the cave and the immediate area, unsure of what to do next.

I took a deep breath, now my true work began.

 

[turbofluffysnek]

Here Be Dragons pt.1

As I caught my breath, I reasoned I'd much rather take on an entire hive of driders and giant spiders again than a pack of trolls. The spiders couldn't really do much through my scales, not individually. Sure, they could swarm me and had, but they also came apart a lot easier and their poison was almost entirely ineffective.

The trolls? Massive, meaty brutes that, outside of a few lucky shots, absolutely would not go down and stay down. I had to pull off a lot more spider legs to keep those things from attacking, but at least they didn't grow back.

Plus, spiders were tasty. Trolls tasted like ash and rot. Sure, I could eat them, but there wasn't enough ketchup in the world to make me want to.

I took stock of the devastation around me; we'd lost maybe a third of our combined forces, a quarter outright, the rest were probably not going to make it out of the ravine. Depending on how things went with my healers, we could be losing more before the night was done.

"Did we…" came Roberts voice, from nearby, thin, "did we win?"

I hissed, he looked bad.

"Yes, my friend, we did."

"Good," he croaked out, breathing heavily.

I could hear the rattle. Something, somethings, very important had gone wrong inside him. I flicked my gaze to a nearby kobold, who shook their head. Triage. I curled my lips in anger and frustration. There were lighter wounds that a mere medkit could help with, there were worse wounds that a healing potion could take care of. Then there were the worse injuries that spells could take care of… and then there were mortal wounds. I could either save one life and curse several more with a lingering, painful death… or I could end one and give the rest the ability to save the dead.

"You're not going to make it," I told Robert. "You're going to die."

"So that's it, then?" he asked. "We win, but I bite the big one?"

"Yup. You've got two choices though. Die and pass on… or die, but roll the dice." I could see the disbelief boiling off him. I snorted. "I didn't believe it myself, but I'm not lying. You've met my… changed forces. They're not lying either."

Robert started breathing faster. I leaned in, reaching one claw to comfort him as best as I could when he shied away.

"Make it quick then!" he hissed, and I understood. I paused, he glared at me. "If you can bring me back, then… end this. Before it starts," he coughed, spitting blood, "before it starts hurting."

"Alright then," I said gently, putting a claw on his chest. "On the count of three."

After calming his breathing, he nodded.

"One," I said, then jabbed a claw through his chest. I leaned closer as he slumped. "See you soon," I murmured, then withdrew my claw and as gently as possible, laid his body down flat.

"Come!" I roared. "We're done here. Leave those wretches to their holes, we have a kingdom to build. Collect our dead, for those not… in one piece, get what you can," I shouted, as diplomatically as possible. "The kobolds and goblins know the drill. Your friends will be returned to you, if they wish. This, I swear." I could see that, despite the evidence before them, not everybody believed, but they would.

It was time to leave this shit-hole, so eventually, with a considerable amount of effort, we did. First I pulled myself up over the lip of the ravine once more, then I oversaw the withdrawal of my forces, aiding where I could. I lacked the magic from my minions that was now exhausted except for healing, but I was strong. I could haul heavy loads up the cliff when the ropes were affixed around me in a makeshift harness. Some of the covers for the trucks would have to be replaced, seeing as they had been cut apart to make shrouds for the dead, but lack of shade for our trip back wasn't something anybody would complain about.

And then, my work was done, so I lay myself down and curled up. It would be day soon, during the day there could be no attempt at double cross from the trolls, and I still had to decide if I should go down there and finish them off, whether I'd given them my word or not. I decided to table the matter until after I'd rested, to see how generous I was feeling. It wasn't as if our agreement couldn't be broken, just that there would be consequences. In their case, they would die. In mine… I wrinkled my snout in disgust. My minions would think less of me, at least.

I put my head on my tail and closed my eyes. They would be watched, I decided, and when they stepped out of line, there would be no mercy.

I breathed deeply, and relaxed. Slowly, inch by inch, mile by mile, my territory expanded in my mental landscape. It wasn't so fine as a map, it wasn't so coarse as a mere feeling, but it was an awareness with some degree of detail. So much had changed since this had all started. A city of well over a hundred thousand people, reduced to a few tens of thousand humans at most, some percentage of the rest, those that lived, no longer strictly — or even partially — human. My world no longer belonged to the humans, it now belonged to the wilds.

I felt them, the changed natives and the natural born outsiders, alike in their wildness. Griffons, werewolves and other were-creatures, centaur, selkie, vampires, pooka, thunderbirds, wendigo… them and dozens more creatures that I had no names for roamed the wilds between the pitiful, struggling enclaves of humanity. So many humans had died fighting over scraps whilst I had been playing patsy with the militia in their well-defended, well-stocked base, and now the rest were mine, or soon would be, as my forces enforced my will across my territory, further each day.

These stragglers would know soon enough that this all, that they, belonged to me, and that my will prevailed. The enclaves of fey folk, dwarves, orcs, spiderfolks, goblins and kobolds, whatever else was out there staking their own claims, too, would be absorbed into my forces. My power would grow, my authority would be absolute.

A gentle paw on my muzzle and a whispered "Great One?" had me opening my eyes. Hours had passed and the sun was bright. I had been sleeping. It was one of my kobolds, a healer mage.

"Yes, little one?" I rumbled, uncurling. I blinked away the shadows of sleep, curious how the whispers that had been at the back of my mind now seemed silent, but were replaced by… something else. A feeling I couldn't describe, but it seemed to be waiting for something.

"The last vehicle is ready to go, Great One," the kobold said, worry plain on her muzzle from having to wake me.

"Then go, little one. I will… I will fly. You needn't have waited for me." I looked around, at the people taking it easy in the morning sunlight, and chuckled. "Still, I appreciate it." It didn't look like waiting was causing that much trouble for anyone. The hard part was done, the dead had been transported in the other trucks. The only crew left were the ones willing to squeeze together if I decided to actually hitch a ride. If I did, it'd be an awful hour or so trip back to the mansion, and I didn't want to fly in the dark, so the sooner I got up high enough to find my way back to the mall, the better. I stretched and stood up, dislodging the kobolds arranged around me to squawks of disapproval from those that had also been snoozing, then padded over to the truck and its passengers.

"I want you to radio on ahead," I said to the nearest human, one of Robert's. I didn't know his name yet, wasn't sure I would.

"Yessir, er, lord? Master?"

"Just… sir will do. Call me what you want. The kobold's call me Great One, or Master. The goblins call me 'Boss'. I don't stand much on ceremonies, just mean what you say."

"Sir. Call on ahead?"

"The dead. I want them back up and with us as soon as possible. To do that, to make sure we can get everyone, I want a tanker of oil and the dead both delivered to the base, you know it? Any pure oils will do, so if you know of… I don't know, a tanker of coconut oil? Gallons of cooking oil? My understanding is the purity of the oils means more than the type. I don't know why it matters or not."

"I, er, yeah, I think I know where your base is, the old mining operation, right? And… and you can really bring the dead back?"

"So far," I said, pointing to one of the kobolds. "That one used to be one of my men, human. The big orc, the one with the oversized machine gun? Him too. I can't guarantee a second chance for everyone, friend, but those that earn it get the attempt. We have a few days, but I'd like preparations to be done as soon as possible."

"I-if you can bring my buddies back… how… how many days?"

"A week."

"O-oh," the man looked downcast.

"There are other spells, my friend, that can bring back the longer dead, but… they cost. If you can find a diamond — I am told a single diamond — worth a hundred thousand dollars, and you have a piece of the dead, then they can be brought back as they were even if they were a lot longer dead, years I am told. They may be other spells still, I am not a mage."

The man looked thoughtful for a long while, then nodded. "I… thank you."

"Needless to say, steal from me, and death would be the last of your worries. Not that I have diamonds worth stealing."

"I-I-I wouldn't dream of it!" the man lied, I snorted. Of course he'd dream of it. I turned away, then looked over my shoulder as I started walking.

"I will fly now to the mansion, and from there to the mall, our base in the city, and from there, most likely back to my lair. There is no point in waiting for me, nor will I wait for you. Radio for help if you meet trouble, I will do my best in such a case to make sure trouble meets me."

Looking forwards again, I raised my wings and tested the wind. Yes, this would do. A few lumbering seconds later, and I was in the air, rising into the blue sky.

 

[turbofluffysnek]

Here Be Dragons, pt.2

I flared my wings, stalled, then flipped in the air forwards, and dove into the lake. The transition from air to water was breathtaking, literally. I breathed out, and out, and then felt my gills taking over, filtering the air from the water I swallowed. It bubbled through me as I slid down and down into the darkness.

I relaxed further. There was a zen with flying, and I ached to be back in the sky already, but before then I still needed to recover more from yesterday. The cool waters soothed my remaining injuries as it also cleansed my soul. I had no real aim with what I was doing, where I was headed, but I swept through the silt, scouring my body on the rough rocks and gravel, snapping as silvery shapes flicked their way past me.

This place was mine. I owned it. I was safe here. Nothing else that wanted a piece of me would be, but that went without saying.

As I relaxed, as I sank into an almost meditative state, I felt — I understood — how my will exerted itself on my surroundings. It was a new facet of my power, the same power that let me exert my will over my minions let me influence the world itself. It wasn't as fast, it wasn't a contract, but it was much more fundamental, much more permanent. The weight of responsibility fell between my wings, but this was my choice. Black dragon swamp. This place would become Black Dragon Swamp. The ravine would be Troll Valley. The Forest needed no other moniker. To the North, Ice Mountain. Southern Swamps. Eastern Plains, Western Plains. The Spider's Den. The maps hadn't just changed, they'd been obliterated. The only surviving parts of the old world would be its ruins, inhabited still by those wretched humans unable to accept their new reality. I would not be so generous to those who would turn aside from my warm embrace.

I felt it, then, a pulse of fealty from Vengis. A prayer, and a plea. I didn't take long to decide; I would be a generous master. Yes, Kitty, you may borrow my power. I leaned into our connection, and felt the pathways strengthen as the pantherkin shared out the bounty. I rumbled contentedly as I rested beneath the surface, my will would be done.

Closing my eyes, quieting my mind, I opened my soul.

"You have done well, whelp," came the one voice that was many. At first it was a mass of sibilant whispers, but it grew stronger. She was behind me, her presence large as the moon and just as looming.

"I am honored that my… workings have drawn your attention, and your praise," I answered carefully. There was a feeling of… amusement.

"You are cautious of me, I respect that."

"I… I think I know who, what you are, Great One," I replied, tentatively. I didn't, not really, but then I could tell that this creature, this being, this goddess, knew that I knew that.

"My brother and I have been watching you with some interest, ever since you almost foundered."

"Before, even!" came the laughing male voice of her brother, another god. "We were intrigued by your making, incensed even, that there were powers that would dare make one of our children without our permission or input."

"So," purred the first multitude, "we decided to rectify that. If you were unworthy, you would have died."

"And by that," snickered the male, "we merely mean that you would have died. But you did not. So now, we are here, wondering which of us it is that should claim you."

I rumbled in discontent. "Crush me if you must for disobedience, but should I choose one over the other, would not the latter seek my destruction? I cannot merely allow one of you to claim me, and I will not choose and make an enemy. Fight amongst yourselves, Great Ones, and then the winner may court my allegiance."

There was a stunned silence for a moment, and then both gods burst into raucous laughter.

"That, my young whelp, was well said! Well said indeed!" the male roared. "I see those meddling deities made a grande mistake with you. It took very little to turn that meager spark of draconic essence and kindle it into a merry little blaze! Very well, very well. I will bless your lineage without reservation. When my sister relinquishes her claim, you may freely join me, if you wish, or merely work in my name and be rewarded."

"Hah! And likewise, dear brother, when you see your folly unfold, I shall offer him treasures such that he shall flock to my side! I also offer you a blessing of power, from the mother of all dragons, freely given! Taste it, and know my glory."

I opened my eyes, and they were gone, but their presence remained, muted though it was, but still a background weight.

I pulled myself up out of the lake, spewing up lakewater in great steaming gobfulls over the smoking grasses. I snaked my way through moss-covered boughs as I headed up to the remains of the Sicario's mansion, ambling through a steaming mass of trees, vines and creepers that hadn't been there a scant hour before as I shook off the last of the muck. Throatily chuckling with amusement I noted how my remaining forces had dug in.

"Ho there, minions," I called, and immediately a cadre of fighters appeared through the barricades. "How fares your day?"

"We ah, we're safe here, right? That forest, the swamp, it's… the world's changing again," said one of the men, hesitantly, worry plain on his face despite the thickness of his beard hiding most of it. "The men are… worried."

"It is," I answered, "but it changes because I will it. None of its denizens will attack you, my minions. This will be my Northern Garrison… no," I paused, letting the tension that my two eager-to-be patrons had stoked flow out of me. "No, this is my summer home. I proclaim this place 'Dunhoardin'." For a moment the humans around me were silent, then one or two choked, trying to hold back laughter. I did no such thing, and gave a great bellowing chuckle. "I shall send some masons and carpenters by the by to repair this place, to make it a proper home away from home. Those who wish to stay here, your task is to keep an eye on Troll Canyon, if they cross me, they are to be eliminated.

"By your command, Great One," piped up one of the kobolds. I nodded to him, then ambled away to the top of the hill, spreading my wings to feel the wind.

"For now though," I called, one foreleg lifted as I prepared to set off, "rest. Yesterday's work is well done. If you have lost comrades and wish to see their return, then make your way first to Pinewood Mall, from there you'll need to head to my base in the East. How you do that is up to you."

"U-understood, boss," said the man.

"What's your name?" I asked, curious. I fixed him with my gaze. He trembled slightly, then stood straighter.

"H-Harmon, sir," the man replied.

"Well, Harmon, I will try to remember it." I looked over at all my minions. "I will try to remember all your names. I'm not so foolish as to think I do not need and should not appreciate you. If you need something, something that you feel only I can do, then seek me out. I want the same things you do, peace and quiet, and prosperity. Just don't waste my time and I'll not waste yours."

Without a second glance, I turned and loped down the hill before spreading my wings and rising into the sky once more. The mall? No, the spiders. I would visit them next, see what they had done with their new territory.

 

[turbofluffysnek]

Shorter chapter today. Enjoy.

Here Be Dragons, pt.3

There was plenty of light left as I flew over the city, but it was well past noon by the time I found the spiders' territory. When I did though, it was obvious.

The already decrepit infrastructure was increasingly being held together by arm-thick ropes of webbing, in places the covering was so thick that from the air I couldn't see the street. If I hadn't been their master, I'd never have known where the giant spiders and driders were lurking. As it was, I had only a general feeling of where there were clusters of the creatures, with the outlier loners stalking between the tenements high above the asphalt.

Circling high above the city, I watched, eyes laser focused, as I spotted one large wolf spider stalking its prey. It was either one of the females or a large male, but it was creeping along inch by inch as below it were three unaware humans. The humans' heads were on swivels, but they didn't have a chance at spotting the spider from their vantage point stuck on the ground between the strands. Suddenly the giant spider stopped, then it hopped from strand to strand, dancing like a gymnast. One of the humans was stuck, fast. Two of the three ran for it, the remaining stuck human shouting and gesticulating. Shots were fired, but the gun ran empty long before the giant spider readied itself and struck in a single, lightning-fast leap downwards. It was over in seconds as the venom from the spider's large fangs paralyzed the spider's prey, the final verse sung in moments. All that was left was the applause.

Eventually the human stopped twitching, but not before the spider had grabbed its victim in its legs and started wrapping him up. The spider then stalked away, as silently as it had come, this time with its meal secured tightly.

Circling down around one of the larger buildings that I felt still had the possibility of carrying my weight, near enough to a cluster of arachnid-folk to make it worth my while, I backwinged in once low enough and touched down as lightly as I could. I furled my wings and padded carefully across the roof, feeling for the building creaking beneath me that would prelude my falling through to the floor beneath. The masonry split and crumbled, leaving just the steel, wood and hopes and prayers to hold the load, but I would manage.

I peered out over the shrouded city blocks even as I felt the spiders getting closer.

"Do you require tribute, Lord?" came the softly sibilant voice of one of the spider-folk. "Our larders are well-stocked."

I thought for a moment, then shook my head, glancing finally at the shadows from where I was being watched. "No, thank you. I just came to check on you, to see if you needed anything. Should your hunting here be troubled, any of my forces that happened along would be geas-bound to assist, and that would likely be more trouble than it was worth."

I worked hard to keep the mirth out of my voice, but it was true. If the humans here that increasingly found themselves on the wrong end of the spiders' fangs ever got the upper hand, any of my other forces nearby that were aware of the issue would have to step in, and that could prove uncomfortable at best for those that resembled the spiders' food. On the other hand, 'hunting' was one of those pastimes that always carried a degree of risk, and dying to your prey wasn't exactly unheard of.

"So your food situation is… stable?"

"There will be trouble in the future, lord, if we cannot expand our territory, but your… your advice, on not outbreeding our prey, has been taken to heart."

"Oh?" I blinked. This was interesting.

"Yes, yes! We have learned… farming. And… and 'husbandry'?"

I blinked again. "Oh? Husbandry? You mean…?"

"Yes, my lord! We have begun culling the more troublesome males, and steered the young from danger to safety. The females have often taken to scavenging for their offspring, but we… gently guide them to their feedstocks that our… our farmers procure for them. The young will surely learn to be wary of the shadows, but we will ensure they learn no lasting effective lessons."

Huh. The spiders were learning, and not just in fits and starts but they'd jumped a whole paradigm from hunter gatherers to farmers.

"In that case, my friends, let me introduce you to another new concept: the Judas Goat." I carefully did not look at the spider, instead I kept my gaze on the distance as I spoke softly and with purpose.

"Judas…? Why is this… goat? Animal, named? What for is it?" The spider chittered, confused and intrigued.

"Well, when you lead animals to the slaughter, the herd will be fractious and afraid. They will mill around, bawling and raising a hue and cry. They may indeed attempt to escape their enclosure. The Judas Goat though, he has never known the butcher's blade, has never been harmed. The Judas Goat will walk freely through the slaughter house without fear, and the rest of the herd will follow. In your case, pick a human family to keep safe from all harm, have them lead more of their kind into your farms, and then keep them too safe, sheltered, fed and watered… until it is once more time to feed. Take care though, the rest of herd must never learn of this, and in the case of humans, the Judas himself must never become aware, lest all your work go to waste."

The spider, now I glanced down at it, was silent, its mandibles swaying softly. It chittered, then answered. "Your words have wisdom, Great One."

"If you're feeding your livestock, then may I suggest this? Do not simply stock shelves in the ruins of their shops, they will notice such things. Instead, scatter around caches of food and drink, and mix it with signs of their own kind. They will more readily accept that there were other, less fortunate, less wily humans that were picked off, leaving their spoils behind than almost any other alternative. Perhaps, in time, you may seek to breed them, and at that time I shall teach you more tricks, but humans are slow to grow and quick to learn and long to remember. If you wish to do more than pacify your territory inch by inch, then you would do well to remember that."

"I hear and understand, Great One. I will take your words to our new Queen."

I rumbled contentedly, curling up for a snooze in the afternoon sunshine. "I am well pleased, my friend. Keep it up."

The spider was already gone, and I closed my eyes for a well-deserved rest.

 

[turbofluffysnek]

Here Be Dragons, pt.4

I woke up when the building I was sleeping on decided to evict me through the front door, one floor at a time. Snarling with annoyance probably two floors down, I pulled myself up and out of the rubble before I could sink any lower, then stalked to the clearest, highest edge before throwing myself off it, collapsing more of the building in my scramble to get into the air. I almost didn't make it, but a handy upwind just saw me clearing the cloying webs and I powered into the sky. I'd not have been seriously harmed, other than my pride — so probably a mortal wound, all in all — but not floundering like a hatchling was very preferable to face planting into the asphalt. I had a reputation to uphold now, after all.

Twilight fell upon my domain as I finally glided into the Pinewood Mall. My wings hurt, but it was a good hurt, a deep ache from being used more in one go than ever before. It was the kind of ache that would be soothed by a dip in the pool, so without fanfare and with even less explanation, I shouldered my way through my minions and slid beneath the waters. It was a full hour later before I resurfaced, by which time I was pretty sure the pool water pH would have to be adjusted considerably before it was safe for humans. But at least it would be clean of bugs.

Surfacing, I blinked my nictitating membranes open to a crowd of kobolds, rodent-kin, humans, goblins and more, all watching and waiting, but pretending not to be. I snorted in derision. "Where can a dragon get a bowl of food around here?" I grumbled loudly, sniffing, letting my nose guide me as I unceremoniously hokked up massive gobfulls of water. My stomach rumbled. There was suddenly an apparent urgent need for most of the gawkers to be somewhere else. I stifled a chuckle as I headed for the nearest kibble-and-dog food stew station.

I found it shortly after, they were serving meaty allegedly lamb chunks in supposedly gravy, mixed with a high-protein, no wheat, high quality active large-breed dog kibble, the latter one of my favorites, the 'Butcher's Best' brand. I sat in front of the suddenly rather nervous looking goblin chef and drooled as he frantically stirred more of the mixture together, trying not to look at the holes being burned into the scenery beneath my ravenous maw.

"RRRrrrrrrrRRRrrrrrr…" I growled, as a kobold got a little too close. She eeped and ran for it, spilling her own bowl. I felt a little sorry about that, but then lapped up her portion and felt less bad. She'd spilled it and now it was all full of grit and sadness. Still, I finished hers, then mine, then waited very patiently for more. Several times.

***

Rarix stared down at the massive black lump snoring gently in front of the remains of the cooking fire, still curled protectively around a bowl. "You said he ate the lot?" He kicked the embers experimentally, the large cauldron seated on them rolled to one side, the contents sloshing gently and dripping.

"Uh, just about… at least all the lamb. It's his favorite. We had a lot of it… b-because i-it's his favorite." The goblin, Vesh? Vash? Something like that, grinned apologetically. There was a quiet, long sound, and Rarix moved back. Then back further.

"By the gods!"

"Yeah, he's… he's been doing that too. I think it's the fiber in the kibble." Vetch nodded wisely as the dragon started kicking in his dream, his talons flexing as he made little 'rrrf wrrrr rrch' noises.

"No wonder nobody's washed up," Rarix exclaimed, waving a meaty paw in front of his face.

"Y-yeah, there was an open flame and, uh, well, I'm pretty sure the Boss is fireproof, but I'm not." Vetch pointed both thumbs at his chest.

"You're still here though," replied Rarix, glaring.

"Well yeah, wanted to see if the Boss went boom, didn't I?"

Rarix rolled his eyes and cuffed the other goblin across the face. "Get the fucking cauldron you fecking gobshite and get it washed up! And go find something for breakfast so there's enough of it!"

"Fuck! Gods, you're a shit, Rarix!" Vetch fended off the other's blow, reaching for his knife.

"Yeah, well, that's why I'm the… your Boss, at least." Rarix didn't bother reaching for his weapon, so Vetch just glared.

"I kinda hate this, sometimes," grumbled Vetch. "I mean it's, ugh, nice that I don't have to watch my back for somebody to stick a knife in it, but it's making me soft. I'm not supposed to have a nice time! I'm a fucking goblin!"

"Then stop moping around and go find something to kill! Bring us back something with some real meat on it, you wretched little gobshite! Oh, and you can go restock the dragon's larders since you've got nothing better to do!"

"Fuck you!"

"Go die in a ditch like your whore mother!"

A few minutes later after a few punches were traded, Rarix was nursing a slice across his palm and belly and Vetch was groaning with one paw on the hilt of the blade stuck in his shoulder, the latter eased himself to his feet and limped off.

"That's more like it," laughed Rarix, spitting blood.

"Fuck you too, Boss."

Rarix waited until Vetch had properly left, then he fished out one of his favorite human inventions. He flicked the top open and watched the flame for a moment, before carefully maneuvering himself and waiting for the right moment…

Pffrrrrrrrt… FOOMF.

The resulting explosion sent the kobolds skulking in the shadows scattering. He laughed crudely. Gotta make fun where you can, sometimes.

***

I left the mall the next morning, hot on the trail of the convoy. They'd found a tanker, apparently, so decided to make a night run with the lights off — dark vision was a hell of a game changer — and by all accounts had made it already. Just because I was the ruler of all I surveyed didn't mean that there weren't metaphorical rats escaping my notice, and I approved of discretion being the better part of valor.

The Mall was in good hands. I left Simmons in charge of it, though I was sure he'd bottle out if he could. I did at least give him orders not to work himself too hard, but Malls are a Human thing, so they need a human touch. Same as gathering the rest of the humans left trying to put their lives back together out there in the ruins of Stokerville.

I wasn't too concerned; I had a breeding population of my three main races, enough of all three to form an army, and with my forces having their Arts, as they were generally called, as long as they were fielded with care, outside of some well supported, well supplied and well trained professionals, there was very little that could stand against me.

After facing off with the trolls, however, I had deliberately spent a good long while thinking very, very hard about Murphy, so I'd had Scar start to put together The Book. Right now it was pretty sparse, but it would grow in chapter and verse with each new entry, and in greater detail as the dangerous denizens of our new world were added one after another.

One of the first entries in The Book was on dragons. Namely, me.

Strengths? Bullet resistant, poison resistant, heat resistant, cold resistant, dark vision. I can breathe water. I'm strong, with high endurance.

Weaknesses? Cold steel. Cut me and I bleed… and most of all? Hubris.

As I swept my wings up and down, back and forth, almost sculling my way through the air, I fixed that information in my brain. Hubris. If I ever got over-confident, it would be the death of me. I could swan about and wade into gunfire, only to get ripped apart by heavy artillery. I could descend upon my enemies, only to find myself massively outnumbered, dying by a thousand cuts, or a few big ones. I didn't burn or freeze easily, but I should never mistake that for thinking I could neither burn nor freeze to death. There were a thousand ways I could be brought low, and the one thing I had to remember from now on was that all my enemies — and the longer I was alive, the more I would have of those merely by existing, even should I be the most saintly of saints — would find every single one of them.

Now my abilities were written down in black and white, just the book itself would draw in those who sought its knowledge when, not if — it was hubris again to assume it would remain a secret — it became known about. I was sure that even now there would be those who would pay a king's ransom for the scant few passages so far inscribed. Even my strengths when laid bare could be my undoing.

Of course, there were strengths that would never get written down that I also had to be aware of, the biggest of which were my forces themselves. I deliberately gave them rules that protected them against both the worst of human excess as well as my own, originally because I didn't want to have to rule by fear alone, but now I recognized it for what it was — a source of self-initiative.

It was hours later when my lair finally came into sight. I took note of the extended works that stretched out from what had previously been a rather tightly bound industrial facility, for all that it had been effectively shut down for that purpose many years back. Now, huge fields stretched out for acres, with irrigation ditches and wells lacing the furrows. Protective earthworks ringed that, with raised towers manned by guns, as troops patrolled up and down the perimeter. It was furthest from some sort of prison work-camp, however, as children ran laughing and screaming amongst the rows, chastised by elders and parents alike. I roared in greeting as I soared overhead, and heard a ragged cheer in reply.

Hubris be damned, I knew we'd be having a party this night, we'd have a lot of lost brothers and sisters to welcome back, after all. I landed carefully outside of the perimeter. It was time to take in all the changes and form a properly grounded perspective.

 

[turbofluffysnek]

Lord and Master

The drums and the bonfires that had replaced the quiet gatherings of the first few reincarnations were once more loud and bright, respectively. There was an expectant, festival kind of air as the sun went down. I was, after all, the Black Dragon of Sunset.

I stood proud and tall as my people readied themselves for the return of their friends and family. I knew, as well as they, that this night would see both joy and sorrow, though mostly joy.

Death came for everyone, we all knew that, but with the powers I granted to my followers, it could be bargained with, and at least for a time, turned aside. That knowledge alone gave people hope, and a profound new understanding of the universe we now lived in; there were worlds other than this one. None of those who had returned knew exactly what lay beyond should they take that next step, but all of those who had seen beyond the veil of this world were sure that there was something else. They knew it, utterly, in their bones, in a way that could never be refuted.

For those of my people claimed by one of the Gods that were dipping their claws into my life, they had a place to look forward to when they were finally sent to rest. It gave them a strength I'd not seen before, it spurred them on to do better, to be better. Today would see more of my humans Changed. Very few came back as they were before and I could tell, somehow, that this time, the difference would be more pronounced.

Gnolls, my now fourth most populous race, were swiftly followed by the Worgs… though I wasn't entirely sure the giant canines counted. The gnolls were bestial and fierce, but they could talk. Those who had become worgs, though, they were… well, Gully, the Emperor Worg, could talk but rarely did. The others understood speech at least as well as they had before but spoke even less, if at all. Since most of them had been the Beasts, as I'd called them, my opinion of their intelligence wasn't very high in the first place.

At least they seemed happy. Gully was apparently already on the way to securing a legacy, having beaten his dire supremacy into every other male worg — from those Changed to those found in the packs around my lair's environs — and having then done his best to knock up every single eligible female he could get his paws on. I'd have to watch that, in-breeding would be a major detriment to my forces. Maybe I could talk to this Lamashtu the gnolls and goblins spoke of? Divine intervention in genetics was something I would make her responsible for, since she's apparently the one who caused this mess in the first place. I resolved to have it out with her one way or another.

The drums picked up the pace as the spell weaving — the largest single mass reincarnation cast so far — entered its final phase and I felt the power draw through me. I mentally gave my blessing, fixing in my mind all the races I now had.

Humans, kobolds, goblins, gnolls, orcs, even elves! Beast-kin of all stripes, worgs and more.

They all had their place under me, and thanks to… whatever had happened to me, all could have a place. I was sure it was an accident. I was sure that whatever Gods had changed me into this, they had failed in their aims. I was sure that they had wanted to wrest not only my humanity away from me — as they had, I had cast off the last vestiges of 'humanity' long ago for my new nature — but my senses. I was sure they sought nothing but a wild beast content to rip and tear its way through the countryside in some violent game for stakes none of the players would have a hope of understanding.

Instead, they got me. And now their calls had been snuffed out, replaced with a feeling of Authority that I'd lacked until two nights ago.

I had goblins in the East Bastion, controlling the Dread Forest. I had the druidic centaur and their associates in the Western Glade with their mastery over the Western Forest — the former so well protected it would take an army to take it and an even bigger army to keep it, and the latter so well hidden with spellworks that if I hadn't had its denizens under my aegis, even I would be hard-pressed to find it — and in the middle, I had a burgeoning human-dominated town growing as the old administrative building was slowly being replaced with timber-built cottage houses, whilst deep underneath it and extending to the mountains in the north, I had a kobold warren and a dwarven holt. And in the extended, though derelict, city, were the rest of my forces, even now pulling together a new world with me as its undisputed lord and master.

I stood once more as the drums reached a crescendo, and digging into that wellspring of power I had nurtured from a mere flickering spark to the deep reservoir it now was, I blessed the return of my people with a draconic roar that I knew they would most likely hear even at the mall.

All the large, earthenware pots shattered at once, birthing their contents back into the world. There were humans, of course, though few and far between. There were some goblins. There were even a few kobolds, but what I noticed weren't so much the gnolls — that was new, I had been told gnolls were made — but the orcs.

I snorted, then laughed, heartily and long. The bikers. They'd been given strong, powerful bodies — once they'd gotten fed a little at least — that showed the strength of their spirit.

Another god had stepped into the new pantheon, I was sure, and one way or another, I knew I would be having words with all of them if my will was to be done.

"Friends!" I called, meaning it for all they were my minions first and foremost. "Today is a day for rejoicing and rebirth, and in that spirit, I have decided that I need a name!"

As the shouts and calls of greeting the once-lost petered out — and I made to reassure those who were too overjoyed of the return of their friends and loved ones that I would not take offense at their showing it with a waved paw and a nod — I stood up and spread my wings. "I had a name once, it was taken from me. I had a life once, as you all did, and that was taken from me as it was from you. I was a man once, and as many of you have now experienced, that was taken from me too. Instead, I have built this with what I became. You have all built this with what you have become. And I bless it with thanks to its builders. And so to carry that into the future, I have given myself a name! A name you can carry!"

I took a deep breath.

"I am Malecvos! The Black Dragon of Sunset! And you are my hoard! The world will know of my name, of what it stands for! For the strength of my people and of our power! I welcome you all back, all my brave fighters! You fought and you died for me, for us, and this is your night! Embrace your new lives!"

I expected a few ragged cheers, inserting myself as I had into this moment which was for my people. I was a dragon, however. I didn't care if they waited politely for me to stop talking. I didn't care if they had to ask the next morning what I'd decided to call myself. I didn't care if they saw my butting into their reunions as unwanted, but I did care when they started chanting my name. It started with the kobolds, but it spread, a chant of "Malecvos! Malecvos! Malecvos!" until it seemed the mountain itself rang with our war-cry

My answering roar silenced the call, but as I held a claw up in a fist, they cheered again, and then began to party.

There was plenty of food and drink available, thanks to the hunting parties, the farmers, the bakers and brewers and cooks and more that had sprung up. I even had my favorite kibble-and-dogfood stew.

Yes, this would do. With a single flex of my will, I reached down to my lair, and began to change it. I would not fully take on its new appearance for a while, the changes would be slow until I retired there for the night, but I needed to put my mark on this place as I had my summer home. I eased back on the poison, but the vines, the wild life, the heat… yes, I would allow a touch of the Underneath to seep in.

After all, I couldn't leave all of that land for somebody else to claim, it was the principle of the thing.

That, and I would have to be ready. The armies of the before still existed, and the humans of before had had terrible weapons that doubtless still existed also. I would have to get stronger, my people would have to get stronger. They had an army, and weapons that could crack this world open with the fire of gods at their fingertips. They wouldn't sit still, so I couldn't chance hoping that there would never be another commander with the same designs on my world as I had. I couldn't sit on my laurels either.

My trump card was the magic I granted. Could I learn to wield it myself? If I couldn't, I had to find those who could, and I had to turn them to my cause, learn their secrets, grow my power until the destruction of any foe powerful enough to warrant my attention was at least assured.

And then I would have to grow more powerful still.

This truly was the beginning.

But tonight? I looked over at the celebrations. Tonight was for them.

END OF BOOK 3