Mark of the fated a litr.., p.19
Mark of the Fated: A LitRPG Adventure, page 19
I didn’t wait to see if they’d understood me, instead opting for the monkey see, monkey do method. The tiny sprouts from the branch came off with minimal effort. “Toss the bits in the ditches,” I ordered. “I don’t want them to have any clue about what they’re coming up against. Can the rest of you start gathering as much loose mud as you can and lay it in front of the holes?”
Romund collected the people who began to paw handfuls of dry earth into position. I twisted my makeshift spear, slashing diagonally up the length to form a wicked point. To my relief, the others had already done the same and we were nearing a good number of pikes with which to surprise the goblin riders. I put the longest across my knee and tried to flex it. The branch gave a little under the pressure but it was solid enough for my purposes.
“Now lay them directly in front of the holes and cover them as best you can. I also need eleven people who won’t scare easy to volunteer. Grab the most pathetic looking tool you can find. I want them to laugh at us as they charge. The rest of you need to get back and pretend you’re terrified. Mill around, scream, whatever you need to do.” The villagers needed no urging to fulfil my request.
Six men, including Romund, and five women, including Astrid’s mother Magda all gathered around me. They had a mix of partly rotten branches that had laid in the drainage channel for too long, and a selection of other useless paraphernalia that would do nothing in a fight.
Atop the trees, I could see birds shocked into flight darkening the morning sky. My heart started to thunder in time with the rapid padding of paws that was fast approaching. The bend in the trail was about five hundred yards back which would give us ample warning of the attack, but also a lot of time for the enemy to see us. I prayed they were so fixated on their prey that they would ignore the shoddy efforts to conceal our waiting trap.
“It’s only because you know they’re there,” I whispered, trying to convince myself while looking at the long mounds. At such close range it was blindingly obvious what lay in front of us.
“Look!” Romund blurted in terror, backing away involuntarily.
I had no time to study their bestiary for any clues. The wargs were wolflike in their overall appearance, only much larger than even the biggest I’d watched on TV. Their size was almost a match for our horses. Black froth slavered from their cavernous mouths as they yapped in excitement at the meal to come. The goblins controlling them rode bareback, using the long fur on their necks to control their beasts. Clad only in thin leathers, they raised their nasty little swords and laughed at our defensive line.
A man to my right started to panic and made to grab the hidden pike. I grasped him by the shoulder and lifted him bodily away from our trap. “Not yet,” I hissed. “Try and look scared. I’ll give the order when it’s too late for them to stop. If they get a sniff of what’s coming we’re dead. Just hold your nerve.”
I was scared out of my wits, but I held it down to give strength to the faltering few. The wargs grew even more horrific as they charged at us. I could see the inches long claws, the fangs that would pierce armour, the hatred in the triangular yellow wolf eyes. Everyone behind us was shrieking and caterwauling up a storm. The rapacious glee smeared all over the goblin’s faces was horrific to witness. Many people had fallen at the hands of these creatures and I pitied their suffering. The riders were mocking us as we readied our meagre haul of weapons, yelling vile descriptions about how we would be nothing but shit in the morning. The ground trembled under my feet and mud skittered and fell from the concealed branches. I studied the beady, malevolent eyes of the goblins and to a creature their attention was fully on us.
“Ready,” I said, loud enough to be heard over the thunder.
In my peripheral vision, I saw the courage begin to waver.
“Almost,” I growled. “A few seconds more.”
The marauding pack were nearly on us. I judged the point of no return in my mind and begged the gods that my low wisdom hadn’t screwed us.
“Now!” I yelled, tossing the soggy branch aside. We all fell to our knees, grabbed our designated spear, and jammed those bastards into the shallow divots. A wall of death rose as one, angling towards the wargs. The goblins tore out great tufts of hair as they tried to still their charge, shrieking their own fear. The pain only spurred their beasts on harder and they crashed into our pikes without slowing. I shut out the agonised yelps as sharpened stakes ran them through. Instinctively, we all ducked as the unstoppable momentum carried the dying bodies up and over us. I caught a blow to the head and several of the others were knocked flat by the sheer mass of the pack. Torrents of blood from the savagely torn flesh rained down, soaking both us and the trail. The riders screamed shrilly as they were launched from their perches. Crashing into the dirt, bones broke as they rolled over and over.
“Finish them off!” I yelled, shaking my head to clear the swirling stars.
I jumped to my feet, helping the others to rise. Those that could, grabbed their hidden axes and I withdrew my flail, readying ourselves to finish off the enemy. There was no fight to be had. All but one of the wargs were already dead, blood trickling from their mouths and gaping wounds. The injured goblins pleaded for mercy and were rightly ignored as the villagers fell upon them. I turned my attention to the last living beast which was panting heavily as its life fluid drained around the embedded pikes. Its paw twitched at me, causing the others to jump back. I was probably wrong, but I took it as the same gesture Honey made when she had been really ill. I would sit by her side and stroke her head while she put an arm over me for comfort. Knowing I was probably about to get clawed to death, I stepped close enough to the creature to smooth down the fur on its ugly, misshapen head. Its paw twitched again and I grimaced, waiting for the swipe. Instead, the warg rested it against my leg and lay still. Seconds passed and the breathing became shallower, finally stopping altogether. Its lupine eyes glazed over as it died.
“I can’t believe it worked,” gasped Romund, surveying the carnage. “Have you used this tactic in your wars?”
I was coming down from my surge of adrenaline and couldn’t answer. What could I say? That I’d watched it in a fantastic movie with a less than fantastic Scottish accent by the main character. We lacked the blue face paint and kilts, and for that I was grateful. No one needed the sight of a pasty white British arse jiggling all over the place. As the rush faded, I almost kicked myself. Spinning around, I found the goblins in various states of dismemberment.
“Fuck it!” I spat, angry at myself. Information was power, and I’d thrown away a valuable opportunity to question them. There could be another pack bearing down on us, or two, or ten. While I inwardly scolded my lack of forethought, Lady tromped back from further down the trail. I’d never seen malice in a horse before, but she pushed people aside and stamped the shit out of the body parts.
“Shall we stop her?” asked Romund.
“Erm… probably best we leave her be. She looks pissed.”
“What now?” asked the village leader as my mount bounded among the remains.
I looked around at the bodies. “I guess we should cut down a load more stakes. Just in case.”
“I’m fine with that. The smell of blood is making me ill.”
“You and me both, mate,” I sighed as Lady continued to spread the goblins out, joined gamely by her daughter. “You and me both.”
Chapter 24
Menagerie à trois
I accepted the villagers’ offer to keep myself out of the way while they cleared the bodies from the trail. After suggesting we leave them as a warning to whatever followed, Romund explained to me that there were still a few small hamlets that would need to use it to reach Pitchhollow. Rotting carcass clearance on top of a desperate flight for safety wouldn’t be ideal for them.
“My messengers should be reaching the villages right about now. I just hope they haven’t been attacked like us,” he continued.
“Would it be better for me to head back and check?” I suggested.
He shook his head. “If they have, I’m afraid to say it’ll be far too late by now. It was only by miraculous fortune that you stumbled upon us when you did.”
“Glad to be of help.” I left out the part about waking up in one of their beds after travelling from another dimension. “Let’s just hope they leave us alone between here and the fort.”
“Garrison,” Romund corrected.
“Fair enough,” I replied absently, my eyes drawn to the body of the warg who had perished at my feet. “What is that?” I asked, walking towards the twitching creature. Well technically the belly was twitching, not the body itself.
“Oh, she was pregnant,” replied Romund as he walked back to gather up the others. “It’ll be dead soon. At least we won’t have to worry about it eating us when it grows up!”
I was transfixed on the struggles taking place beneath the taut skin. As ghastly as the mother had been to look upon, in its dying moments it was nothing more than a scared animal seeking comfort. Had it been for itself or its unborn, though? I had no clue about the psychology of wargs, nor most animals when it came right down to it. The pup’s movements started to weaken and my panic flared.
“What are you doing, you pillock?” I asked myself as I equipped my dagger. “This is going to end so badly.”
Before I could talk myself out of it, I picked a spot as far away from the impression of paws as possible and slashed downward. Like a lanced boil, the pregnant belly deflated and the amniotic fluid poured out, covering my feet and lower legs. As vile as it was, my excitement overrode the need to go and dive in a river. My companion log grew by one when I picked up the ichor soaked pup and severed the umbilical cord.
Companion Gained – Warg (baby)
Description – A distant relation to the more common wolf, wargs are far larger than their lupine cousins. Capable of hunting alone or as part of a pack, they are fierce predators. Once trained, wargs forge a lifelong bond with their master. Requires milk to survive.
The little ball of slick fur started to choke so I turned it over and hooked my fingers into its throat to pull the swallowed tongue free. I received a healthy nip from its razor fangs for my troubles that penetrated to the bone. Leaving the healing to my natural constitution, I pulled out a cloth and gave the creature a quick wipe down.
“Same trick as before?” I asked, looting the group of adult wargs.
My inventory filled with a stack of fur, claws, and meat that I would look over later. Among the prizes was a copious amount of warg milk in neat little bottles. I slipped the teat of one into Wargy’s mouth and stashed him safely into my pack. I also took the time to feed my other companions who were growing rapidly. It was becoming a full on menagerie in my pack. I didn’t know if they served a purpose other than awesome, and not so awesome in Spidey’s case, travelling buddies. They had no combat stats to speak of, no tab to pull up their attributes or abilities. Still, I did what I always did in games; I gathered all pets to me. That was enough for now.
“Mark? Are you done?” called Romund from up the trail.
“Nearly!” I replied, heading towards what remained of the rider’s bodies.
Name – Goblin Warg Rider
Description – The smallest of the goblin warriors are picked to master the wargs as their lack of bodyweight aids in their symbiotic combat. They eat with their animal, sleep with their animal, fornicate with… Ok, too much information. Let’s just say bestiality isn’t as frowned upon in the realms of goblindom. Who are we to judge what happens between consenting… things?
Weakness – All
Immunities - None
I pocketed the available coins and moved on to the loot which was far more interesting.
Item – Goblin Die-Nah-Might? (uncommon)
Type – Weapon (explosive)
Description – A highly volatile concoction held in small clay jars that are lit and then thrown. Spontaneous combustion can be caused by – naked flames, clothed flames, water, shaking, coughing, oxygen, lack of oxygen, and gentle breezes. In fact, the chances of you getting this to work are less than one in three. Luckily for the wielders, Gutrender has an enviable prosthetics program that uses the latest in goblin ingenuity. Who needs a functioning hand when you can have a hook?
User Requirements – None. For the love of god, don’t even think about it!
Effect – Causes explosive and shrapnel damage in a small area
Misc – None
I wasn’t averse to unleashing some bombing goodness on my enemies. I just had to try and make sure I wasn’t among the casualties. Or at least have a sturdy hook ready to go in the event of a missing limb.
Achievement Unlocked – Chad the Impaler
Description – Fifteenth century Wallachian princes have nothing on you. As Vlad Dracul laid waste to the invading Ottomans, so too shall you strike terror in the hearts of your misbegotten enemies. Leave their screaming forms riding the stake into an agonising death. Plant your bloody flowers on the battlefields that all may know your evil and quake at your approach. Carve your name in the annals of history as the legendary vampire does.
Reward – Țepeș Stakes (Spell)
My eyes darted back a line. “Wait… does? What does that mean?” I asked. “Is that a typo or are you telling me that the Dracula is still alive on our world?”
Nothing replied except for the distant chitter of a forest critter. It had to be a language issue. There was no way a secret like vampires would be kept under wraps with the prevalence of video technology in the hands of nearly every single person on the planet, was there? Hang on! Didn’t video capture use mirrors? If that was the case, the bloodsuckers could walk right past in velvet jacket and spread collared dress shirt. That left a dubious knot in the pit of my gut as I took the remaining loot from the corpses. Pushing the dread aside, I opened up the spell tab to check my new ability.
Item – Țepeș Stakes (rare)
Type – Spell
Description – Vicious pikes burst from the ground, impaling your enemies.
Requirements – Intelligence 10
Effect – Causes piercing damage to enemies. High chance to cause bleed debuff.
Misc – Strength and diameter of stake eruption increased by Intelligence
“That’s awesome!” Apart from my lack of stats to use the thing, anyway.
I joined the convoy and cautiously approached my psychotic steed. Lady whickered as I neared and tried to twist her neck back to the pack of apples.
“Hold on, Miss Kills-a-lot and I’ll get you one.”
My eyes were drawn to her lower legs and the black gloop that stained them. I promised myself that I’d give her a wash as soon as we hit the next stream and slipped the girls two apples before climbing back in the saddle. My back started to complain immediately but it was something I’d have to get used to. I doubted there was much in the way of taxis or cross country rail travel available; it was either foot or hoof.
We set off in tandem and I walked Lady up beside Romund’s wagon.
“It’s been quite the day, hasn’t it?” he asked, gently jigging the reins.
“It’s been a real eye opener,” I agreed. “Would you mind telling me more about what’s been happening?”
Romund blew out a shrill, weary breath. “That’s a dark tale indeed. Are you sure you want me to tell it?”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I replied. “Have the goblins always been a problem?”
He nodded. “Going back as far as my grandfather’s, grandfather’s grandfather. Legends say that the poison in the mines twisted the men who toiled in the deeps. Orcs and goblins used to be folk just like you and me. Can you believe that?”
“You don’t?”
He scoffed. “The only resemblance I see is that they walk on two legs. I’d be more believing that the miners found something down there that they hadn’t counted on. Gutrender is just the latest to take command of the green rabble that fills the caverns. For hundreds of years the orcs were the stronger of the two races. They would use the goblins for fun and food. As terrible as a full army of orcs marching on the lands of Kherrash may seem after tonight, it was always repelled with minimal casualties. They took a fortress once or twice, but it was short lived and the Grand Marshals always sent them fleeing back into the depths.”
“What’s changed?”
“This is the second time they have emerged in the last fifty years with one of the goblins as their master. Strog NoNose was the first, and he was also the first who used their bizarre technology. Whatever it lacked in accuracy, it made up for in devastating damage. To both sides, that is. As many of the orcs fell as our troops. We lost most of the north-western territory that time. Three small garrisons and two of the larger castles. Most of the able-bodied men were drafted to put them down. Masons, tailors, farmers. Everyone.”
“You fought?” I asked.
“Heaven’s no. I was only a little spit of a thing. It was my father who left the fields to go and reinforce the army. He came back deaf and nearly blind. And to his dying day two decades back, he’d cough up a mix of black gunk with pools of blood. Whatever was in the smoke of their fire weapons was enough to rot him from the inside.”
“How do you think their armies have managed to win so decisively after all the previous tries?”
“From what I gleaned as the routed men passed through, their technology is now perfected.”
My memory flashed back to the what I can only assume was a more volatile dynamite looted from the goblins. It didn’t seem that perfect if they required a constant supply of fake limbs for their injured, but I kept the information to myself. “You said your father was wounded by their fire weapons. Did he ever mention what they were?”
“I’m afraid not. You have to remember he was a farmer. The sword in his hand felt as strange to him as that horse feels to you. All he remembered was charging forward into the battle, the sounds of piercing screams, then silence. Most of the men had blood running from their ears after the battle was won and they never heard another sound as long as they lived.”
