“Just the usual ‘echo’ at 17:17:43, magnetic flux level unchanged for…what, 47 days since we first detected it?,” piped up Luke Crowder from the electrodynamic station, in between slurps of rahmen.
With a long put-upon sigh Jake then circles the double-wide trailer, passing the usual order around to the rest of the scientists working on the ‘Thunderstruck’ project, saving his own and Director Finnley’s for the last. “So boss, what’s on the agenda for today?,” the engineer asks.
Director Juliet Finnley almost snatches her double-tall cocoa, with a double-shot of expresso, and enough sugar to send her husband the dentist to dentist’s school all over again. She avoids saying anything until half of it is resting warmly inside her stomach, and restoring the density of her caffeine stream. Tossing Jake the printout she was drowsily reading before he came in, while sitting back to bask in the vitalizing warmth.
“Well…fuck,” Jake says a couple minutes later, after reading it.
With chagrin Juliet piles on the pain, eyes still closed, “Yep, evidently a weird solid-gold diagram two meters across, that PRODUCES heat every 24 hours like clockwork, isn’t a valid enough ‘discovery’ to merit our ongoing budget. If we don’t produce ‘more actionable’ results, we are going to have to break camp when our mandate runs out end of the month.”
After a bit of thought, Jake asked, “What about the spatial distortion, or the seeming self-repair ability?”
“Not replicable, despite our best efforts, and even if they WERE…what does self-fixing gold or a 3-centimeter ‘dip’ after 10-meters do for the war effort to keep Texas free? I don’t like it, but I can UNDERSTAND it.”
“Yeah boss, me to. I don’t want to be rounded up and put in some commie death camp either. But I still get this niggling tingle in the back of my head, like we are missing SOMETHING…y’know?,” Jake says, with a resigned sigh.
Then a voice pipes into their conversation from the other side of the room, “What about INCREASING the dip? The math indicates that this COULD be one side of a 4-dimensional structure, so…what if we just kick in the door, to see what’s inside?”
The four of us are met about halfway through the original Askfj?r village by Borden’s adult daughter Fürda, coming from the priests that have been training her, followed shortly by his wife Freygi. He brightens up at seeing them, smiling even as his daughter lays into him for, “Thinking with his manhood instead of CONSULTING with her, before going off to stick his prick in somebody ELSE’S business!” Freygi meanwhile comes running up before seeing he is back, slowing down and trying to reclaim SOME of her dignity, despite her obvious relief that Borden still lives.
Then she calls out to him, “Husband! You missed your return by MOONS, my lo…”. Turning around, smile still stuck to his scarred bushy-bearded face, he sees his wife with his one remaining eye.
And all sense of dignity leaves her as she starts bawling in wracking sobs, running up to clutch his face in her hands, examining his healed wounds up close, “Who DID this?! Where ARE THEY! I’ll tear them apart and feed their still-mewling carcasses to the village dogs!!” Heh, hell hath no fury, even in another world.
Sidling up to me, as her father and his wife clutch each other and share a private moment in public surrounded by increasingly-uncomfortable villagers, Fürda side-talks to me, “I missed his injuries, I am not proud to admit. Who do I have to thank for putting that puzzle-knot back together…you?”
It occurs to me that I have not talked much about Fürda, have I? Well see, Borden was a widower before he married Freygi, which was an arranged marriage to end a squabble between the Asfj?r and Valdi. He agreed to marry the Jarl of Valid’s daughter, even though he was still mourning the loss of his first wife, who died in childbirth. Their love developed over the years that passed, as she slowly healed his broken heart. Before that Fürda was taken in by the priest Sikan’s wife who was her wet nurse, since Borden was not emotionally or physically capable of caring for the newborn, but grew up knowing Borden as her birthfather and spending time with him off-and-on as she grew up. This is how Sikan originally got enough into Borden’s good graces to become a permanent advisor, at least until he pissed him off one time too many after I saved Torden’s life that day in the woods. But as she grew older she grew to resent not having her mother around, and pulled away from Borden more with time. By the time I came into the Jarl’s house, Fürda was spending most of her time as Sikan’s priestly understudy, and I only knew her in passing. Hell, it wasn’t until last midsummer’s celebration that I even found out Borden was HER father…I just knew that he had A daughter! Pretty much all the rest I know about her I discovered by asking around when the subject of conversation allowed.
After a brief rendition of the troll fight story, and Borden’s recovery, I get to the part where Torden was helping me make him a trophy spear when the family starts heading towards the longhouse. So I have to beg off the rest of the tale, and I leave Fürda to pass the word on to the villagers.
Finally reaching home, Badrik steps out from the door-flap to greet his father, still smelling of the pig-grease from his interrupted meal. Before he escorts us all inside and commands the servants to make more food to feed the returning heroes. Has this asshat been acting like the Jarl while we were gone?! Shortly after sitting down back home Venradik and Aedirboa join us for an impromptu monthly dinner, Borden taking over the head of the table from a briefly-frustrated looking Badrik.
So as we get to relax for the first time in months, Borden tells the tale of the trip in between bites of stew and fruit-baked bread, with the rest of us filling in for what he missed. Unfortunately, the tale makes the others look uneasy, until eventually, they just stop eating and listen…their appetites obviously ruined. But not us, we’ve been eating camp food for MONTHS, you’d have to use a crowbar to get this wonderful fresh-baked goodness out of my face!
***
Despite Sikan’s protests, over the rest of winter, Borden and I draw up a map of Askfj?r and our planned defense. We go through several goat skins for plans and diagrams, as I trawl my memory for every dirty trick I can think of that our primitive civilization could pull off. Landmines are out, but pungi-stake pits are all the rage this coming fashion season!
Meanwhile Borden calls a war council with his sons, the warriors from Valdi, and the surviving refugee elders. It was during this discussion that two commonalities were brought up:
First, the attacks occur at the start of winter.
Second, the first winter’s attack is minor and probe-like, while the second winter’s attack is an overwhelming tide.
So with that in mind, we decide that we need to bleed the first attack as much as possible to weaken the second attack’s force. Any that we can kill off in the first attack we will not have to face a year later, after all. The village’s entire environs are too sprawling to defend the whole perimeter, so…we won’t. Time for some inspiration from Sparta!
We will “funnel” them by building two earthen ramparts at the edge of the town, from the orchard’s northern edge where it meets the mountains going south, and from the creek along the eastern mountains going northwest. Leaving a wide gap between the two, into the flat-ish land that runs towards the tribe’s huts (now pretty much houses in their own right). We will cut back the woods come summer, to line the earthworks with a log palisade, so they cannot be easily climbed from the village-side.
We will put in pungi-steak pits in that whole killing ground, to slow down and pin the enemy in place, while crippling them to prevent their retreat. At the border of the killing ground, we will extend the earthworks INWARDS, burying a large cut-log barracks room with several days’ worth of supplies for a dozen warriors each. That way they can fire on the trapped enemy from atop the hills, and retreat to safety instead of being overrun.
Finally, we will “badger hole” the whole place, even MORE than a town made up of former hunter/gatherers and proto-Vikings already is! Giving everybody at least a fire-hardened long club, which is “oddly” similar to something you would see at Rayleigh field. Filled with imbedded sharp rocks and iron slag spikes from the smithy, insert evil chuckle here. I call then “Negans”, because…why not? I WAS going to go with “Lucilles”, but they kept mispronouncing it, as usual, but for SOME damn reason they have no problem saying “negan”.
After spending the winter finalizing the plans, developing a cheap-and-fast way to make negans, and preparing for the spring construction project, the time to start arrives.
***
I’m laying out stakes to indicate where the edge of the northern wall is to run, when Torden comes up to have a chat, “Brother, father has a task for us he says is more important that putting sticks in the ground. Maybe he wants you to go take a shit? Or scream back at the goats?
“Very well Torden, let us go see who is louder. The goats…or you after I shove a squirrel down your breeches,” I joke, with a groan as I stand up and drop the hammer and armload of stakes I was using.
“Don’t even JOKE about that Laughash, you promised NEVER to do it again, and I agreed I wouldn’t draw on your scribblings anymore!,” he almost wails like a teenager finding out he can’t use the car that weekend. I make sure that he doesn’t see my grin.
So while still trading friendly barbs, and Torden’s occasional bone-crushing side hugs, we make our way over to where Borden and many of the village’s men are laying into the trees. Moving around a horse they are tying to a fallen tree for hauling, we get Borden’s attention so he can step away to talk to us, “Boys, I need you to go into the east mountains, to a village there, for more warriors.”
Torden and I share a confused look, before turning back to say in unison, “What?!” At which Borden laughs, wiping sweat from his forehead.
With a smile on his scarred face, “You two are becoming more like brothers with every passing winter; it does your father’s heart proud. But yes, we need MORE warriors for the war to come, and like it or not Járn is the next village in their path. Either they add their strength to ours and we destroy these wolf-men together, or they face them on their own after we are destroyed. To make that point, and make it WELL, I am sending the two of you along with Fjodr and a volunteer from the newer villagers.”
“But father, you need us HERE to dig pits and cut trees!,” pleads Borden, obviously not relishing ANOTHER trek into the mountains since the LAST one. I wonder when he developed this phobia? Now that I think on it, I don’t think I’ve seen him go into the mountains since our time in the slave pits…
“No son, three strong-armed men and one too clever for his own sake, will not dig enough holes nor cut enough trees to make a difference. But a dozen MORE, come winter, COULD mean we survive when we would have otherwise perished. So, go to the orchard storehouse, the two of them will meet you there with your travel supplies. You ARE leaving, TODAY.” With a grim set to his face, he turns to go back to cutting into trees, obviously dismissing us.
“Come on brother, I don’t have the strength to DRAG you into this, but I can certainly BADGER you about it until you submit to Borden’s orders,” with resignation, Torden decides I am correct and follows me to the Orchard storehouse, eyes downcast the whole time. “Hey, cheer up; this is OBVIOUSLY just something he came up with while sweating this morning. You don’t even KNOW how to get to this village, and I certainly don’t! We can just laugh around with these other two about it, then chide him for his oversights tonight until he agrees to let us stay and sends somebody else tomorrow.”
Torden perks up and even smiles through his fire-red increasingly Borden-like beard, “You are right Lou! I don’t even have Mister Slammy, and we CANNOT go into the mountains unarmed.
I tilt my head back and sigh, before turning to look up at him, “Torden, brother-mine, you KNOW that only Aedirboa calls me ‘Lou’, right? I barely tolerate it from her, what makes you think that I would tolerate it from YOU?”
He laughs before saying, “Oh yes, how can I forget AEDIRBOA, my apologies Laughash. I’ll leave it to the two of you.” We are quite for the rest of the walk, except for Torden glancing at me with a shit-eating grin and laughing, for the rest of the walk. Sheesh, what the fuck is taunting that hamster in his head?
Coming around one of the newer houses in the orchard half of the village, we see the front of the longhouse used for storage in the distance, and the two men standing there see us as well. Fjord waves Mister Slammy over his head, to get our attention, while the younger other man reaches inside the door to start pulling out leather backpacks, “Welcome my princes, I look forward to this trip with you! At your father’s behest I fetched your weapons for you, so here is your hammer Torden, and Laughash your daggers are rolled up in the top of your pack. This is Hidl, he is from the newer villagers, and this trip is to be his warrior’s test. So fellows, I was told that we travel upstream the creek into the mountains until it splits at some sort of ‘rainbow rock’, then take the split downstream until we reach the village of Járn, have either of you been there before?”
So…I’ve been outsmarted by a one-eyed barbarian king, and as I look at Torden I see him looking at me with the same realization. We’re stuck going on this trip, and Borden arranged everything to keep us from having the TIME to come up with a way out of it. Good play old man, I’ve let him in on too many of my old U.S. Navy Warrant Officer tricks, and so he’s got us by the short-and-curlies.
Torden and I inspect our packs’ contents while Hidl prattles on about how excited he is to travel with us. I am hoping SOMETHING was missing, for an excuse to stay in town, but we are out of luck. Evidently Fjodr packed them both, and he’s an experienced enough woodsman to know what we will need, plus he was “thoughtful” enough to even ask Venradik if there was anything else to take. So I don’t have even THAT excuse to use for delaying the trip. FUUUUCCCKKKK.
Thus it is with resignation, that the four of us walk towards the back of the original village where the two mountain ranges meet. Where the creek comes down before travelling along the eastern range’s base, is where we begin the journey. I hope there are no giant spiders.
***
I wish these were giant spiders! It is late evening, and the four of us are looking for a place near the divot created by the creek on which to camp, walking along the near-trail it created by means of thousands of years’ erosion. We haven’t found a nice flat space or a cave, but we DID find a pair of huge-ass bears…during mating season.
A blast of color spray confused them enough that we were able to fall back to a thinner section of the trail, so only one could come at us at a time. Now Fjodr is holding it back with a burning tree/bush pulled out of the side of the cliff face and lit on fire with prestidigitation, but it is getting angrier every minute while the branch is nearly burned out. Hidl is standing behind him with a short bow, shooting the bear whenever he has a clear shot, but not doing much through its thick brown furred hide. Torden is behind me, hitting the cliff to dig out large chunks, before pitching them BEHIND the bear to keep its mate at bay whenever it tries to wade through the creek to get at us.
Me? I’m clutching Torden’s dropped backpack for dear life, trying to pull myself back onto the trail after falling into the creek during our breakneck escape, and freezing my nuts off. I could drop my own pack and pull myself onto the bank easily, but then we would never retrieve it, and it is far too late to walk safely down to Askfj?r in the dark for a new one. If I hadn’t turned to cast prestidigitation while we were running away, I wouldn’t have missed the turn in the path!
Lesson learned, now hopefully I live long enough to apply the lesson later. If these were giant spiders, at least the network of webs would have WARNED us.
“D-d-d-d-r-r-r-op a r-r-r-r-r-r-ock-k-k-k on it-t-t-t?”
“It’s not an ogre, and these cliffs aren’t that steep, so no luck THERE, clever guy,” He says as he hurls yet another head-sized rock in the second bear’s direction. “Besides, I’m ALREADY trying that, but it doesn’t seem to be working.”
“B-b-b-bag-g-g b-b-b-r-r-rown-n-n b-b-bot-t-t-tle r-r-r-red-d-d-d t-t-t-top-p-p-p…,” I can barely get out as my vision starts to brown out from the wind-chill. The last thing I notice, before the darkness takes me, is being flopped onto my face by Torden.
I wake up to the sound of crackling fire, and the warm smell of meat roasting over burning wood. Torden, who is holding a stick with a hunk of meat on it over the fire, smiles and shouts to the others when he sees me shift around under the layers of furs, “Laughash is awake! Here brother, rest, let me cut you off a slice of bear.”
It tastes like chewy leather ass, Torden seems incapable of making ANYTHING tasty, but he never appears to notice as he is wolfing down the rest of the roasting meet, “So I found the bottle you told me about, but I didn’t know what to DO with it. Turns out that the dust inside, when tossed into the bear’s head, was enough to run it off. And the other bear climbed up the cliff when IT got a whiff as well! So that was a great idea, brother, got any more?”
“Torden…that was our ENTIRE supply of cooking licorice. You only needed a small handful of it blown into their faces to drive them off, not an entire BOTTLE of it!,” I say with weary exasperation.
“Oh, my apologies brother, but net time stay awake long enough to SAY that,” Torden says, while the three of them laugh at my facial expression. I guess my pained put-upon disbelief is a great punchline.
So I grumble and curl up under my sleeping furs, or actually Torden’s according to the smell, before drifting to sleep with a full belly of bear butt. Just to escape their embarrassing joviality.
***
Come morning I do some doctoring on the claw nicks that Fjodr got from the bear’s claws, and on my own cuts that I didn’t notice before because of the freezing water and shock. Then the four of us resume our journey.
It is a good two days of hiking, climbing, and occasionally wading through the edge of the creek; before we come to the fork in the stream. It is obviously the one we are intended to find, not just because it is the first split we find, but ALSO because the “rainbow rock” is actually the mother of all quartz crystals imbedded into the granite of the cliff, right at water level! The noonday sunlight refracting through it, casting the entire area in faint rainbow light as it reflects and refracts off the water.
We are all just standing there stunned at the sight, even Torden is awestruck, “Beautiful…,” he says, lost in the experience.
Then we all get soaked wading through the entire stream to the other side, Torden last as he tosses our packs to us from the other side, with his powerful pitching arm. Once all four of us are on the other side we strip down, pulling out the lower cliff branches while using the higher ones to hang our clothes on for drying. Then we just sit around a small fire to dry out and get warm, trying not to shiver TOO much from the wind across our naked skin. By the time we are done we only have a brief time to find a camping spot, so instead we spread out to sleep along the trail, and eat some smoked meat warmed with prestidigitation. Tastes MUCH better than that nasty-ass bear, at least.
The next morning we set out to the downstream of the split in the creek, as it curls around deeper into the mountains. Eventually we come around a corner as the sun starts to set, excited for what we will see since we have smelled cook fires for a while, coming across a small encircled valley with a village in it. We have found Járn at last!
***
There’s a scream in the village as we come down the creek trail, followed by shouting. Shortly afterwards we are facing six muscle-bound men, half with drawn bows, and the others with swords and shields. So, of course, we stop. The biggest of the sword-bearers tells us to shut up, in slightly-accented speech, when Torden tries to explain who we are.
So here we were, just standing there, for maybe a quarter hour before an older-looking warrior in an embroidered leather jacket comes casually walking towards us. He looks at us, his eyes stopping when he sees Torden, and says, “So what in hell does Borden want THIS time?” Yeah, this guy must be the local Jarl.
Torden then puts his foot firmly in his mouth, probably pissed at the guy staring him down and his insulting tone of voice when mentioning his father, “He wants to give YOU a chance to save your worthless hide, are you going to turn him down, goat-fucker?” I think I might have concussed myself with that face-slap, Way to go antagonizing the man, Torden. Why don’t you kick him in the nuts, and call his mother a bad fuck, while you are at it?
“Take them to the winter storehouse, and keep them inside. If they don’t surrender their packs and weapons, just kill them,” the Jarl says, before storming off in a huff. Torden gets red-faced and pissed, grabbing the handle of his warhammer before I grab his forearm.
“Trust me Torden, our best chance to get out of this with our hides intact is to go along with them. Don’t worry, we WILL get our stuff back ONE WAY OR THE OTHER, understand?” I look at my adopted brother, pleading with him to surrender, while he looks back at me with pure FURY in his eyes. A couple of breaths later he has calmed down, let go of Mister Slammy (one of these days I WILL get him to call it Mjolnir, damnit!), and agrees to be detained.
So there we are in the village’s nearly-empty storehouse, weaponless and without our packs. Well…MOSTLY weaponless. Not to mention my summon weapon spell and the ability to use it to bring Laevateinn to me, there’s also the belt pouch I keep my spell components in, and the daggers down each of my boots. Good thing these guys don’t know how to properly frisk somebody…guess it isn’t something they think they need to worry about, in a world where ‘weapons’ are typically swords and bigger metal monstrosities.
They toss us some dirty furs to sleep with for the night, give us fairly tasteless bowls of gruel, and a bucket for afterwards. No fire or anything, but we are comfortable enough to sleep that night, despite the stink.
The next morning I feel a sharp pain in my thigh, as one of the village warriors kicks me awake along with the rest of us, “The Jarl wants to talk to you, come now.”
“Torden, keep your trap SHUT unless it is to apologize, understand?,” I whisper to Torden as we walk to the Jarl’s longhouse. He grumbles, probably hungry, but doesn’t disagree. Best I’m going to get, I guess.
We are escorted into the Jarl’s longhouse with a guard for each of us, standing there as he eats his morning meal being tended to by servants, “I’ve thought it over, and I’ve decided NOT to have you killed…yet. I want to hear what message that whining shit wanted you to deliver, so speak it.”
Torden’s face gets beet-red again, the difference between his beard and skin almost imperceptible, so I elbow the oversized rage-ball in the hip to distract him. He lets out a gasping breath and clutches it, turning to look at me, as I glare at him from my the side-eye. Once he calms down a bit I speak up, “Jarl, my apologies for my brother’s gruff speech last night, but the essence of what he said was true. There is an army of wolf-men monsters capable of wielding weapons and thinking like men that has been slowly coming this way over the past few years, consuming the people of each village they have come across. Askfj?r is next, and then they will attack Járn after WE fall. That is why Borden has bid us to come here to beg your assistance with the fight coming this winter. If we fall, YOUR’S will be the next village on their cook-fires, so it is in your own interests to send warriors to us to fight them off these next couple winters, before that can happen.”
He finishes eating the hunk of meat he was chewing after I spoke, probably using the time to parse my words, before replying, “So you need warriors for TWO winters, and these creatures are to attack DURING the winter instead of the spring or summer, which is the typical time of war? This sounds unlikely.” Then he dips some hard bread in soup, and starts eating it, while looking at me as he waits for a reply.
Not wanting to disappoint him I try to explain, “Winter is not the time of war for US, bit THEY are furred and so feel the cold less. Unlike US they don’t keep winter stores, thinking the next village is their’s to consume, as their winter food supply. The first attack is just to test our defenses, not intended to conquer, just find what problems they might have for the following winter after they have eaten all prey in the woods. Then the following winter they attack in an unending wave of weapons and teeth, rolling over any defenses they have found, and consuming all people in the village. So far we know that they have destroyed TWO villages before us, but thanks to some survivors who managed to escape these attacks we have figured out their pattern. Now, with YOUR help, we can kill them off BEFORE they sweep into the mountains looking for fresh prey.”
“WHAT survivors? All I see are two dew-faced princes, and a young man whose balls are still smooth, being escorted by ONE warrior who knows what he is doing,” the Jarl doesn’t look convinced.
So I look to Fjodr, and wave him forward to speak, “I am Fjodr, from Valdi. My village has traded fish with you for your iron, before. I am one of only two survivors of Valdi, so that is why nobody has come to you to offer trade again.”
Then I step in, pushing Hidl in the back so the shell-shocked young man steps forward, “And THIS is Hidl, from the Fjord village of Nifl (which translates in English to “mist”, pretty appropriate) that you might have heard of. He escaped with his people as a child, to find refuge with us, a few years ago…but only one in five survived the trip.”
The Jarl sits there thinking for a few minutes, his meal forgotten. Picking up a bowl of berries he says, “Both of you from these dead villages stay, take the others back to the storehouse.” Damn, he wants confirmation, and those two aren’t the best talkers.
So with reluctance, Torden and I return to the longhouse. At least they give us some smoked meat and berries to eat, as well as emptying our bucket. About an hour later the other two are pushed in here with us, having told their stories to the Jarl before being unceremoniously returned to confinement. I hope he is convinced.
Come that evening he comes to the longhouse, and he is NOT convinced, “Borden has tricked me before, and I am loathe to fall for his tricks again. But I cannot ignore the sincerity of these two, which is NOT the same as agreeing with Borden’s assumptions! So, come the morning, I will be sending two warriors I trust with you. They are going to report back to me next year with their observations of your village’s attack this winter, and if they DON’T return…then I have my answer anyways.”
With that he leaves, still looking upset. Well we didn’t get the NUMBER of warriors we wanted, but at least we MIGHT get them next winter.
The trip back the next morning was surprisingly easy. We saw one the bears on the way down from the fork, but once it saw us it went scrambling up the sloped cliff to get away. Ok, maybe using the WHOLE bottle of licorice was a good idea…but I’ll be damned before I tell Torden that!
And with that, we make it back to Askfj?r just under two weeks after we left.
***
Coming down from the mountains we can see an overview of much of the village, letting us see the changes so far. The log wall coming down from the northern mountains is almost complete, backed up by dirt mounds being made from the hills out front of it, moved one bucket at a time. It is running towards the last hill, which they have been digging a tunnel into, moving the dirt to the side where the wall is running UP from to meet together in the middle. The wall running northwest from the creek isn’t more than a line of stakes, somebody having finished my work. Good progress… might even be done in time at this rate.
Asking around we find that Borden is over at the partly-finished wall, so the six of us go there to report to him. Seeing us approach he hands off his rope to somebody else to pull the log vertical, and comes to meet us, “I hope these two are just the first of Jarl Vorn’s forces, and the rest wil arrive later.”
With an apologetic tone Torden answers after I remain silent, not wanting to catch flak, “Sort of father. They are to observe this winter’s attack and report back to…Vorn?...about it. He said he would send us warriors if their report is good. I’m sorry father, but we failed.”
Borden steps forward to grab Torden in a sweaty hug, “No son, you returned healthy, that is NOT a failure. We just have to survive this winter, and the NEXT we will have the aid we need.”
Releasing the now-relieved Torden, he looks at our guests, “I’ll find a place for you in the village, but you will have to work for your food here. Grab axes and help us cut back the woods, we could use your strong arms building the wall.” With an arm around each of their shoulders, he takes them to where the woodcutters are pumping iron sideways into their wooden opponents.
Borden looks back at us as he moves away, “You four relax for the day, you’ve done good work.” This makes three of us relived, but Hidl gets a happy grin on his smooth face, before tearing off to his parent’s home, I guess. Kid has WAY too much energy; he’s like a two-legged Chihuahua
Torden and I walked towards the Jarl’s fortress, but while he went to play around with his hunting dogs, I stopped off at Venradik’s house. Aedirboa was off playing midwife. Thanks to my knowledge about using boiled water to disinfect herself and her patients, to prevent infection, the child survival rate has skyrocketed these past few years. As a result, her services as midwife has become the default, leaving the old women who used to perform that duty jealous; and too stubborn to change their practices, so nobody wants their services. Would YOU want your child to have five times the chance of death, AND the mother, or bite your tongue and let an “unlucky” CHILD deliver it? At least it has more-or-less put an end to that whole jinx-like rumor that has been hounding her since she came to Askf?r.
Once alone in Venradik’s home, I pull up my character sheet to go over how I should progress when I get more skill points, since I expect to finish my 1st Hit Die when I turn 16 this midwinter. I’m expecting to get 20 of them, 2 for the base amount, plus another 2 for high Intelligence, plus another 1 for being Human; all before multiplying by 4. And since I have the “Skillful” trait this Hit Die, I can put them ANYWHERE…that I can “justify”.
NAME: Laughash
RACE: Human
SUBRACE: Primitive
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AGE: 15.2 years
HIT DIE: 1(3/4)
ECL: 3/4
SIZE: Medium
SPEED: 30 ft.
ERA: Bronze-Age (Primitive, use one Era lower)
ABILITY SCORES: Cha 16, Wis 12, Int 15, Dex 13, Con 10, Str 8
DURABILITY: 0 (due to Small size)
SAVING THROWS: Fort –1 (0), Ref +3 (0), Will +5 (2). +2 vs. Fear.
SPECIAL ABILITIES
* Trickery Domain spells: 2 per day.
ATTACK: Base Attack Bonus +0, Melee –1, Ranged +1.
SKILLS (–3 to Social skills from Primitive):
* Charisma-Linked (+3)
* * (CbF) Bluff +4 (4 ranks) [–3 Social]
* * Diplomacy +5 (0 ranks) [+2 from Court Raised]
* * (CbF) Disguise
* * (P) Use Mystic Device +4 (1 rank)
* Wisdom-Linked (+1)
* * Heal +3 (2 ranks)
* * Sense Motive +3 (0 ranks) [+2 from Court Raised]
* * Spot +2 (1 rank)
* * (P) Survival +4 (2 ranks) [+2 from Primitive]
* Intelligence-Linked (+2)
* * (P) Alchemy +6 (4 ranks)
* * (P) Craft (medicine) +3 (1 rank)
* * (P) Craft (weaponsmith) +6 (4 ranks)
* * Knowledge (arcana) +6 (4 ranks)
* * Knowledge (nature) +5 (3 ranks)
* * Knowledge (nobility & royalty) +4 (0 ranks) [+2 from Court Raised]
* * Spellcraft +4 (3 ranks)
* Dexterity-Linked (+1)
* * (CbF) Hide +3 (2 ranks)
* Constitution-Linked (+0) [–2 from Court Raised]
* * Concentration +1 (3 ranks)
* * (P) Control Shape
* Strength-Linked (–1) [–2 from Court Raised]
* * (P) Climb
* Linguistics +2 (2 ranks)
* Tales & Legends +3 (1 trait)
FEATS (Simple Weapon Proficiency, Firearms Proficiency, +Saber):
* HD 1: Court Raised
* Human: Chosen by Fate (Trickery)
TRAITS (Mystical Hero):
* Favored: Skillful ×1
* HD 1: Eldritch Soul ×1
* HD 1: Wildman ×1
* HD 1: Loremaster ×1
SPELLCASTING:
* Chosen by Fate CL 1 (+2), Max SL 0th.
* * 0th: summon weapon
Summon Weapon (Conj): Creates a non-magical mundane weapon you are familiar with. [Summon]
* Eldritch Soul CL 1 (+2), Max SL 1st. Spell Level Pool Points: 17 (0th-Level are free)
* * 0th: acid splash, detect magic, prestidigitation; 1st: color spray, mage armor
Acid Splash (Evoc): Orb deals 1d3 (+6 Breaking the Limits) damage [to Con]. [Acid]
Color Spray (Ill): Knocks unconscious, blinds, and/or stuns 1d6 (+5 Breaking the Limits) weak creatures [Material Consumed (colored red, yellow, and blue sand or powder)]. [Mind-Affecting; DC 14 Will save]
Detect Magic (Div): Detects spells and magic items within 60 ft. (+6 Knowledge:arcana and Spellcraft checks Breaking the Limits)
Mage Armor (Conj): Gives subject +4 (+6 Breaking the Limits) armor bonus [Focus Needed (piece of cured leather)]. [Force]
Prestidigitation (Universal): Performs minor tricks. (+7 to relevant skill checks Breaking the Limits).
SPECIAL ABILITIES:
* Advantage: Breaking the Limits (Eldritch Soul) [Charisma score –10 –Spell Level to spell effects]
* Extra skill points
I can’t remember the synergy table from The Harrowed Earth core rule book (it has been a DECADE, sue me), and unfortunately the descriptions given by the character sheet doesn’t provide access to them, but that is not the same as being unable to remember ANYTHING. I remember from playing Herr Grey that the skill “Bluff” gives a LOT of bonuses to other skills, and that “Use Mystic Device” can give bonuses to charged items…as well as my being able to access the “Anchored” spells in items Venradik makes. An ability I used to good effect when Borden was injured, so I want to keep up on that one to make it more reliable. Then there is making my OWN “Anchored” items with various “Craft” skills and “Spellcraft”, I need to get more varied Craft skills and improve my Spellcraft, so that I have a wider selection of options for making Anchored spell items. I want to increase my general-utility skills as well, higher “Spot” so I can throw spells further accurately, “Heal” for extra usefulness from using medicines, and so on.
So I figure out that I should be spending my time with Freygi learning to sew and embroider, to get “Craft (tailoring),” while rejoining Venradik and Aedirboa in the evenings for spellcasting lessons. We are still discussing how the elements of the character sheet mesh with reality, and deciding that the source of HIS odd magic probably comes from a mix of his innate drow spells and the “Wildlands Spirit” feat (seems I was wrong about his using Spiritualism), when Aedirboa comes in exhausted from staying up all night with her patient. She perks up on seeing that I have returned, and hustles over to hug me. Veradik laughs and tells her, “Go to sleep girl, before you pass out on Laughash’s shoulder!”
Groggily she stumbles to her bedroom nook in the back corner of the room, before shutting the leather curtain around it to undress and pass out. I excuse myself, and return to my own bedroom, intending to start my training regime in the morning.
***
So that is how I spend the next couple months. Borden has the goatskins with the diagrams needed to complete the defenses, and I am too physically weak to help with the heavy labor needed (fucking noodle arms, Laughash just seems to be one of those guys who CANNOT keep muscle mass), so I manage to talk myself into the job of fixing and making clothes for those who CAN work. I might not be the most talented of seamstresses, but Freygi is doing it with me most of the morning, and she has a surprising amount of good advice on the subject.
Badrik is still being an asshat, trying to prove his superiority over me since HE can work on the berm’s bucket brigades while I am stuck doing “women’s work”. As a result I wind up having to spend much of my time sneaking around the house when he is home, trying to stay out of his sight, since I don’t want him shoving handfuls of goat shit down my shirt…again. Seriously dude, that just means YOUR hands are going to be smelling like shit the whole day…how is THIS a practical joke?! Then spending the evenings with Venradik and Aedirboa, studying magic theory and making Anchored items. I manage to talk Freygi into letting me sleep at Venradik’s place, “To increase the amount of time I have for making medicines and talismans to protect us this winter.” Yeah, totally NOT to get away from Badrik’s asshatery!
Unfortunately, Badrik decides to spend some of his time out front of Venradik’s place. I wind up taking my bedfurs outside to shake the bugs out of them (thanks asshole) every evening, and he keeps following Aedirboa around the woods when she is collecting magically-capable or medicinal plants and such. It annoys the hell out of her, but she puts up with his CONSTANT badmouthing of me and bragging, so that I can sew in peace. She’s a damn good friend, I don’t think I could tolerate him prattling at me day after day.
And with that, the midsummer celebrations come around. By then the north/south wall is complete, as well as the archer’s bunker-hill, and work has started on the wall running from the creek. It is going slower since it is further from the cut-back woods, losing much of our work-time just to transport costs. But this has freed up much of the woodcutting crew to start putting in pungi-stake pits on the killing field, so the overall work is proceeding apace.
The two groups of villagers and the former tribesfolk all gather together for the three-day celebration of midsummer, with honey-baked bread treats, sweetmeats, and rich goat stews. Now that the pig-keeping project is bearing fruit, we even have pork chops and BACON! Freygi thinks I’m insane, cutting a piece of bread in half then putting thick slices of wonderful pork goodness between then, with a slice of lettuce on top…until she tries it.
Overall the summer festivities are a good break from the pervasive dread of impending doom that has kept the village entrapped in it since winter, and everybody is having a great time. The hill that is at the border of the orchards and the village’s farms, practically at the apex of the three components that form this settlement, is where Borden sets up the high table. This is where there is a giant bonfire at the base, with the “royal family” at the top overseeing the whole thing, and the people are permitted to come talk with us about anything without fear of reprisal, according to tradition. Every now and again, as cries for it sweep the celebrants, one of us will speak up to address the petition.
As a result of this Borden gives the status of manhood to Hidl and a few others, for their achievements. Freygi oversees a few weddings with the piests, taking the brides aside to give them advice, much to the chagrin of the prospective grooms. Torden gets into a few wrestling matches for bragging rights, and wins them all except the match with his father that people called for. Torden may be a big-ass 6-foot-plus brick shithouse, who is like a younger version of Borden, but his father has EXPERIENCE. Myself? Well people start singing “We Will Stone You” (the translation STILL rubs me the wrong way), and a few other songs.
Badrik winds up spending much of his time in private with a few village girls, and true to form, ruins the festivities on the last day. As the sun sets and the party starts to wind down, he stands up with a mug of mead, and drunkenly announces, “Everybody pay heed, I intend to marry the healer Aedirboa once the walls are done, to celebrate both our survival and my own marital bliss!”
Aedirboa, who is holding the dreadlocks (who would have guessed that that hair style was originally Vikings?) of a warrior that drank too much and is praying to the…pit in the ground at the side of the hill, looks up in confused astonishment. Standing up, her face quickly changing to pale outraged fury, she bellows out, “Like HELL you are! I’m marrying Laughash as soon as he gets off his ass and ASKS!” Then her face quickly turning beet red in embarrassment, she covers it with her hands and runs off into the village’s fields.
Oh…oh fuck…this is NOT good! Hey, waitaminute, since when does SHE fancy ME? We’re not even 16, and she LOOKS 14…I’m NOT marrying THIS young! I’m already MARRIED to Pia, and I am NOT cheating on her!!
I’m obviously flabbergasted, when Borden slaps me on the back then grabs my shoulder, “Go after her son, she’s been burning THAT torch since you brought her here, don’t let it burn out.”
“Father, I CAN’T marry her, and you KNOW why. We are both too young as well, even if I DIDN’T remember what I remember, and she’s just enamored of me not in real LOVE,” I tell him, with my head close to his so we can hear each other over the sudden frenzied gossiping of everybody around us.
“No Laughash, you are clever as a god, but you know nothing of a maiden’s heart. She has known you closely for years, and even shares some of your secrets, yet instead of driving her away this has only made her fonder of you. She MIGHT have once just had a little girl’s fancy, but she has grown into a young woman with a woman’s wants, and she WANTS YOU. Everybody knows this, and I mean EVERYBODY, but you it seems. Your memories are just that, memories, the world in them is not THIS one where you live. And who is to say how much time has passed since they happened; all the people in them that you remember caring for could be dust by now. Don’t let ghosts in your mind prevent you from having a bit of happiness in your life, my son. Badrik can be a fool, obviously, but you would be a BIGGER fool if you left her to her heartache,” damn…I’m a stereotypical fucking isekai protagonist aren’t I? Dense as a fucking rock.
With that, I get up and hustle down the hill into the half-moon-lit farm fields, passing a pissed-off Badrik on the way. At least there is THAT bit of good news…what is it called when you take pleasure in another’s ill fortune, again? Well whatever it is, yeah THAT.
I’m stumbling around the wheat in the poor light, calling out to Aedirboa, when I hear a girl sobbing in the dark. Using prestidigitation to create a small candlelight, I find her sitting between two rows, crying into her hands, “Boa, are you alright? We should head home before it gets too late, you don’t want to sleep out here and end up with louses tomorrow, do you?” I chuckle saying that, trying to lighten the mood.
“Go AWAY Lou! I can’t believe I SAID that…I’m so EMBARASSED! I know you don’t like me like that, but I like YOU, and I am so SO sorry I made such a scene!,” she says, wiping her tearing eyes on her sleeves.
I sit down beside her, putting an arm around her shaking shoulders, “Its fine Boa, I just have…to much in my mind…to think of ANYBODY that way. I never thought that you actually LIKED me like this, but if I was to marry ANYBODY it would be you, understand? We are just both too young, and too busy trying to survive these next couple of winters, to think about this stuff. So how about we just put this off and go back to how we were until we know we HAVE a future to worry about, sound good?”
She pushes me away, “NO Lou! I’ve been delivering babies for wives younger than I am! People our age get married ALL the time, you know. Hell, your YOUNGER brother just made a public PROPOSAL to me! People just GOT married yesterday, THEY don’t have to wait, so why should WE!”
I stop reaching out for her, and look around to make sure we are alone, before turning back to her still-crying face to wipe away her tears. “
And so I tell her about my life as Wayne Sigurdsson, in a world without magic, from a civilization thousands of years in the future. I tell her about cars, about airplanes, about computers, about guns, and about…Pia and Paul. I tell her about how I have been missing them ever since I woke up as Laughash, about how my heart still aches for the wife I loved and the son I was so proud of. And about the deal I made with some unknown cosmic power to keep them safe, from a fate worse than death. The deal that made me wake up AS Laughash in the first place, eternally separated from my family just to protect them.
By the end she looks like she’s seen a ghost, before she reaches out and pulls my head to her developing chest, shushing me and petting my head. Unexpectedly I start crying my heart out, involuntarily clutching at her as YEARS of pain and heartache let go, tearing out of me one bone-wracking sob at a time. “I’m here Lou, they are not, but wherever they are I KNOW they are alright. The elder gods might be unpredictable, but NONE of my father’s stories of them said they don’t keep their end of the deal,” she says, obviously trying to soothe my pain.
I manage to hold in my tears long enough to ask, “
She takes my face in her hands and pulls it back so I can see her in the pale moonlight, “My father would tell me stories of the gods and the older god-like THINGS they keep away from the world. In all the tales of them, whenever somebody got their attention and cut a deal with them, they would hold up THEIR end of the pact…but ALWAYS would make sure that the mortal paid some unexpected price for it. I think that is why you have these memories; whatever force that offered to help you as you died on that ranch cast you into OUR world, ages BEFORE this Wayne person was born. There are some tales of them playing around with people’s souls and time; I think that they played around with YOURS, too.” Huh…that fits disturbingly well…
I sit up and start wiping my own eyes clean, when she smacks me upside the back of the head, “Venradik knows the same stories, we’ve talked about them a lot while waiting to sleep late at night. If your dumb ass had told HIM about this past life of yours, he would have told you the SAME thing! You have been suffering for this life-yet-to-be without any NEED to, just because of your obsession with keeping your secrets, you stupid jerk!”
And we laugh together, as I realize…she’s right. Paul, Pia…I WILL find you, no matter how many years into the future I must travel to reach you! But whatever elder deity is responsible for this, you are NOT off the hook…my boot tips are STILL coming for those nads, you asshole!
After nearly laughing ourselves sick, we get up and head to Venradik’s hut, where he is waiting for us after having left the party early. Then, at Aedirboa’s urging, I tell him what I told her about my past life as Wayne. After sitting down on his stool to listen to my tale deep into the night, while I am sitting next to the fire and Aedirboa has passed out in her furs, he leans forward with a serious look on his illusionary face, “I’m not an idiot…Wayne…I know the same stories as Aedirboa, and even MORE. I knew that you were hiding something more than your ‘Ka-rac-tors-He-it’ from me, and after thinking about it I realized that you were a reborn soul like in the stories. I figured out that you would tell me about this other life when you were ready.” He leans back with a thoughtful look on his face, staring up, “BUT…I had no idea about this future-looking world your new soul came from. I figured that you were just a child that died early, and cut a deal to live longer. So you got tossed here to me, to satisfy my OWN deal to let Laughash’s body live longer.”
With a sigh, he looks me in the eyes, “I’m so sorry I treated you as a child for so long, my friend. However, it IS your OWN fault for not letting me know that you had an adult’s soul inside you!
“Just tell nobody else about your past life, you came close talking about this to Borden. You could wind up being burned alive as a daemon possessing Laughash and bringing ill fortune, if they find out about your life as Wayne!” Ok, got it, getting BBQ’d was a possibility after all, so I’m staying OFF it!
Standing up to go to bed, he helps me get off the ground since my legs fell asleep, then puts a hand on my shoulder, “Now, when are you two getting married? I heard her declaration at the festival Laughash, and I know there is an empty house that could use filling…” Et tu, Venradik?
“Even IF Pia won’t exist until thousands of years from now, we are BOTH too young to marry, Venradik. I know that getting hitched after fifteen, or even FOURteen, winters is the norm around here…but in my memories it was wrong to marry until at least EIGTHteen years of age, and I feel wrong about doing it any sooner!,” damn, lapsed into a bit of English…haven’t done THAT in a while.
“Laughash, and you ARE Laughash now, your soul has almost 40 winters MORE than the 15 of your body, and Aedirboa’s elven father makes HER age SLOWER than a human. If she looks 14 winters old, she is probably CLOSER to 18! Also, half-elves like her rarely develop physically beyond the stature of a human around 15 winters, unless they take more after their human parent. But from the look of her she takes after her elven father. Now, if you DON’T marry such a sweet girl, if you break the heart of a child I have come to think of as my daughter, I WILL make your life miserable,” the hand on my shoulder grips TIGHT into my trapezius muscle. Leaning forward as I wince, until we are practically nose-to-nose, he lets his illusionary appearance drop for the first time in years and I am left staring into his blood-red eyes, “Do you UNDERSTAND me boy?”
Shit…I forgot that even with my nearly half-century of experience, THIS guy is still CENTURIES older than me…and has a ruthless streak from how HE grew up, “Yes I do. I’ll formally ask for her hand tomorrow, I promise!” I’ve seen him make an abusive husband’s dick shrivel up and fall off with his potions, don’t blame ME for not wanting that to happen to my OWN piss-stick!
And that is how, a few days later, I married Aedirboa and moved into my own home with her. Freygi spent the days leading up to the marriage with Aedirboa, cleaning out the house and having “wife talk” with her, leaving Aedirboa red-faced and embarrassed whenever I see the two of them chatting. Likewise Borden has a frank talk with me about a husband’s duties and rights, which are pretty savage and frank, but oddly kind as well. Huh, if American women were like THIS, feminism would be dead and people would be HAPPY! Most of it is just the kind of life I lived with Pia, anyways, so I’m not surprised.
Badrik, in the meantime, spends his days walking around like a living storm cloud, ruining the atmosphere of any room he enters. Borden tries to talk to him, only to get blown off as he storms away in a huff, and tells me later, “He should have TALKED to her about marriage, to see if SHE was interested, before making such a public statement. I’m sad he is suffering, but he brought it on himself, so don’t let it ruin YOUR happiness Laughash.” I agree with Borden, and decide to put Badrik out of my mind. At least once I am living with Aedirboa across the farm fields; I won’t have to worry about Badrik’s “pranks”.
Torden, in the meantime, shows an unexpected talent at carpentry. He spent two days making a bed for us, so we don’t have to sleep on the bed in which the house’s elderly prior owners died this past winter. There is some sort of superstition about that. Then he promised to deliver new chairs and a table for after our honeymoon. Which, it turns out, means the village puts us up for a month of drunken mead-fueled marital bliss. Since mead is MADE with fermented HONEY, and it lasts a full lunar cycle, it is called a “honey moon”. I never knew that was a Viking thing.
Come noon the two of us are in our fanciest clothes, standing in the northern part of the pungi-staked field, so that half the entire damn place has room to watch and cheer us on by using the orchard hills as natural bleachers. I’m sweating like a pig at a BBQ, despite the cool spring wind, and I’m not afraid to admit I’m a walking bundle of nerves. Across the way I can see Aedirboa with Venradik, and Sikan standing in front of the arch of flowering branches between us with a barely-concealed look of apathy. “Borden, father, I am…scared. I haven’t been this frightened ever before, even when fighting that troll,” or handling shipments of high explosives on a battleship!
Standing on one side of me with Freygi on the other, Borden puts a hand on my shoulder as he tells me, “Laughash my son, let me share with you a secret of my own. You are not the ONLY man to lose his water when standing before his bride-to-be. I’ve been married TWICE, and the second was just as terrifying as the first!”
“That explains that smell on our wedding night,” Freygi jokes with a chuckle.
Then the drum starts thumping, and I am walking towards Sikan while Aedirboa starts down the other side to meet me. Her face smiling brightly, but her eyes showing the fear she is also trying to hide. Guess I’m not the only one scarred of the future. That is…oddly comforting.
A few minutes later, after a short ceremony and some oaths, our forearms are tied together with a ribbon of colored goat-hair cloth; and we are married. Then promptly carried to our home bodily by a cheering crowd, as the loose binding slips from our arms, and I am pushed stumbling into the front door of our small 3-room home. As I come to a halt and stand up straight, I’m almost pitched face-first into the ground by Aedirboa being shoved in behind me, before the door is slammed shut and I hear things being piled in front of the door.
Borden’s loud voice hollers out, “We’ll let you out tomorrow morning, so you two can’t run! Have fun until then, the mead is in your bedroom!
Nervously Aedirboa and I don’t-quite-look at each other, before she stands up stiff and straight, almost daring me to me her eyes, “You have been married BEFORE Lou, I think you are more confident in what comes next than I am!”
This twigs my member-berries, and I stop being so nervous as I laugh at myself, then meet her eyes, “Boa dear, you KNOW I care about you, but I CANNOT forget what I…used to have. I’m not afraid that I cannot PERFORM tonight, I’m afraid I will DISSAPOINT you, by not being able to return the amount of love you have for me.”
“My love, I know your heart, both the one here,” she says, stepping forward to place a hand on my chest, “and the one here,” she reaches up with her other hand, to run her fingers through my backswept braided hair. “I don’t want EVERYTHING you have to give; I just want to be a PART of it, of you, and you of me.” Then stepping up on her toes, she kisses me and I take her in my arms, feeling myself more Laughash than Wayne in that moment.
I won’t bore you with what happened next, nor titillate you with what happened for the following four weeks. It is only between her and I, and I’m deeply sorry if this hurts you, should it be Paul or Pia reading this. All I can say is that what I have with Aedirboa is, in my heart, an extension or addition to my life with Pia. My love for one in no way hinders my love for the other. Yeah, I said “love”, I can admit it now some weeks later…I LOVE Aedirboa too.
We spend the “honey moon” doing honeymoon things, leaving the home only for necessities, and I spot Torden hustling people away from our home occasionally. Evidently he has taken up the roll of bouncer
***
Once our honey moon is over, we emerge from our home like a caterpillar coming out a butterfly. Only to be hit by a windshield
I’m practically hyperventilating as Aedirboa is sleeping in, not even noticing Borden’s thunderous footsteps before he slams an arm across my shoulders, “Welcome to married life my son…um, again I guess. We have LOTS to do, and much of it needs YOUR eyes! Now come with me, let us go look at these ‘bunkers’ and the ‘puhn-gee-pits’, and see if there is anything that needs doing.”
So I spend the day inspecting the progress so far, noticing several things that we forgot to go over when drawing on the goat skins. The pungi-pits need the branches on the covers half-broken in the middle, so they will collapse completely when stepped on. The smoked meats in the bunkers need to be coated in a layer of honey and re-wrapped in leather, before I use prestidigitation to seal them bug-tight. The bunker doors need to be flipped around to open INWARDS, so that they can be barred from inside. Those kinds of things.
As the sun gets low, Borden joins Aedirboa and I in our home to go over the war plans. Which thrills her no end, I guess it’s a bragging point that the local king is her first houseguest, “Son, is there anything you can think of to add to our defense in those strange otherworldly memories of yours?”
Thankfully, Aedirboa knows that Borden believes that it was Laughash who inherited a bunch of memories of a random man from Earth, and not Wayne that has grown up AS Laughash. “I heard him tell tales of waters that burn like fire, and dust that creates thunder when touched by fire, what about those husband?,” she asks, as she passes a wooden mug of leftover mead to Borden before joining us at the table.
“I think I could figure out HOW to make those, using what we have here, but I am not SURE about it or how long it would take. Not to mention I have no idea how much I could MAKE before the first snows come. It is probably best to save those until we defeat the first attack, then I can use the rest of winter to puzzle through making one or the other,” I lean back in my newly Torden?-brand chair, thankfully made MUCH better than Borden’s throne. As I look upwards to help think I can see my erstwhile-father actually look at the chair with JEALOUSY in his eyes
“What about a device that can hurl a spear further than any man, with the strength of an ogre?,” I ask, a bright idea in my mind from a documentary I watched with dad, about siege warfare through the ages. We already know HOW to make spears, so…scorpions?
Borden’s jealous look turns to the near-lust of a professional warrior being offered a new toy. Yep, I’ve seen that on a LOT of faces, back when I was kiting out SEAL missions…I know that look well, heh. “Speak on son; is this something we might be able to take on campaign into the northern mountains, perhaps? Say…to visit some giants?”
Laughing I let my chair’s front legs slap to the ground, as I run into the spare room that Aedirboa and I share as a workshop. Grabbing a piece of scratch goat leather and a stick of charcoal wrapped in a piece of split wood, the closest to a pencil I could fashion, I draw a makeshift diagram for Borden. “Sorry but even with the wheels, this thing is going to weigh as much as two fully-armed warriors, and is wider than both. There is no way we could get it up those mountain trails, and even if we COULD it only works in a long straight line. With THIS distance is our ally, since it takes a long time to ready for each shot.”
I give Borden a feral grin as his face falls, leaning over conspiratorially, “BUT…it can fire as far as the entire width of the village, AND with enough strength to go THROUGH one enemy into ANOTHER…or even more than two…” I see his eyes light up, sharing the same glimmer as mine, at the thought of a new way of delivering a good old-fashioned does of American Freedom? to the bad guys. If only I could have gotten muskets or something working, but metallurgy in this place is FAR too poor to handle it. Well, at least for NOW.
“I’m going to bed, you two keep the cackling to a minim please, so I can sleep,” Aedirboa says with overblown exasperation, seemingly just happy that the two of us have found something to fanboy over. Damn, sometimes she reminds me OF Pia…ummm…I better not tell her that. Note to self: leave this thought OUT of any recitations I tell her
Borden leaves to go home a couple hours later, after we have run my supply of goatskins dry with diagrams and maps. If (IF!) we can get these working, we plan on putting them on towers before and after the farmlands, so they can shoot into the killing ground OVER our warriors, as well as cover one another should the enemy make it through to them. No sense having a glass cannon or, uhm…scorpions?
The next morning I kiss Aedirboa goodbye for the day, and go to meet up with Borden with a piece of fried bacon in my mouth. She has to go take care of some of the hunters who were injured when a log rolled into them while we were on our honeymoon, so Venradik can get back to making his medicines. Meanwhile Borden and I are going to the village’s carpentry shop, meeting Torden there where he has become obsessed with his new hobby. In an age without power tools, a guy who can practically JUGGLE logs is almost as good, I guess.
So with the diagrams in hand, the two of us get the carpenters to stop making chairs and buckets, and start working on an all-wood scorpion. Well…NEARLY all-wood, since the clasp has to be made by the smithy, and the usual linguistic impediments winds up referring to them as “Sk?rpn”…looks like Borden wasn’t the only one who couldn’t pronounce it correctly. However he IS the Jarl, so now “correctly” is how HE says it! I guess “Sk?rpn” is going to be sticking.
Unlike the near-fistfight that it takes to get the carpenters on-side with the project, the smithy goes smoothly. Ever since helping me make Laevateinn, the village blacksmith has had a fearful near-reverence of me, which disturbs Borden when he almost ignores him on seeing me. So when I show him the diagrams of the clasp, shaping some of his clay with prestidigitation to the needed shapes, he happily sets aside the woodsman axe he was working on to start the project. Or maybe it went so easy because Torden wasn’t there to be a contrarian, when his father butted in on his newly-found talent? Who knows.
It takes a few days to get the prototype working, and I have to redo the molds for the clasp because the carpenters made the spear groove too wide, but we get it at least LOOKING right. Instead of rolling it on wheels, we all grab it and carry it out to the hills behind the farmlands, Borden hollering out to everybody to get out of the fields for a while. Well I say “we” carry it, but in all honestly it is mostly Borden, Torden, and the blacksmith…I’m stuck just carrying a pair of test-firing spears.
Setting it up on a couple logs, so we can adjust the elevation, they wind back the cocking wheel and engage the clasp. It holds tension, so…first step achieved. Putting the spear in the groove, everybody steps back and looks at me. “It’s YOUR toy brother, YOU play with it!,” Torden says, grinning.
“Well…it has POWER, but we need to work on the AIM,” Borden says, laughing. I’m just standing there, embarrassed as hell, because I forgot something…the blinder-like guides on the FRONT of the damn thing. “Torden, get the men working on putting up watch towers around the fields. Use this map of the area so they know where to put them. WE will work on solving this aiming problem, and then lift them into place atop each tower with ropes. Laughash, join me in the carpentry…we need to solve this.”
And that is how we ended up with a 20 foot tall tower at the edge of the hills and the original village, each side of the tribe’s hut/houses, with a scorpion and stacks of spears atop them. In the back-side of the fields we put another two identical towers, each atop a rise in the hills leading up the mountainside, so they can see OVER their fellows and fire into the killing ground BETWEEN them. Anything that gets INTO the farming fields, would be caught in a crossfire of all four towers, and slaughtered. Plus, below the covered platform that the “Sk?rpn” is on, is another platform that can fit half a dozen men with shortbows. There to keep the enemy away from the tower itself. The ladders that let men climb the towers have ropes on their bottom rung, and sliders around their lengths, so that they can be cranked UP out of reach after they are manned.
I think we are as ready as we are going to get. Now we just need targets…
***
The first snows start to fall a few weeks later. Except for the warriors on the bunker-hills watching for enemies, with their log drums, the REST of the village turns out to bring in the last of the fruit from the orchard and the summer crops. As a field is cleared others come behind us, planting turnips and lettuce seeds, to grow over the winter. It’s almost like crop rotation. Wheat growing in the spring, bulbs and nitrogen-fixers in the winter. The only ones not helping with the harvest are Venradik and Aedirboa, who are working to collect their herbs and other summer plants, since the things they need DON’T grow except in the hotter months.
It is as we are halfway through the harvest that the first attacks start. Over-eager, the guards pound the drums when the first group attacks, but not even a dozen enemies lay dead from their arrows by the time the rest of us get everything ready. Exasperated at half a day’s lost labor in the fields, Borden and I put our heads together and come up with a code alarm for the drums. One beat, pause, one beat, pause, repeating for a handful or so enemies. Two beats between pauses for around ten. Three beats between pauses for over a dozen, at which point the warriors that live near the bunkers are to join the guards in case they make it to the bunker-hills. Four beats between pauses is over two dozen, at which point we FULLY mobilize for war!
When Borden drops the dead carcass of a gnoll in front of the two warriors from Járn, as they and I come down from our posting in one of the rear-most towers as archers, they laugh at him, “Jarl Borden, ONE wolf-man does not a war make!”
Picking the carcass up by the back of the neck, Borden shoves it in their faces, “Like rats, ONE now means MORE later…don’t think THIS is the end of what we face.” He then tosses the carcass at their feet, splattering them in the thing’s blood, like a mic drop. Then turns and walks away with royal dignity. Damn, this guy would make Patton take notes!
What is it about this primitive world that makes people like Borden and his family, Venradik and Aedirboa, and the rest? I’ve yet to encounter NEARLY as many useless navel-gazing assholes as I did every day back on Earth! Is it because the weak die off, or are they just a stronger breed in general? Hopefully we survive the winter, so I can puzzle this out in my spare time while falling asleep with Aedirboa in my arms.
Over the next couple weeks we get quite a few more attacks, sometimes with a day between them, but mostly every day. Most of the attacks are under a dozen, but one of them was over a dozen, and two of the enemy made it back to the denuded edge of the forest, Damn…they are able to report back.
Then the BIG hit comes in the mid-morning, after another couple minor probes. I’m entertaining a group of children, using prestidigitation to make illusions of birds and pull things out from behind ears, when I hear the first
From the back I can see the entire village, and even over the wall to see the field outside of it thanks to my much greater elevation. My “Spot” skill, however, is not high enough to pick out any useful details…a disability I overcome by taking a roll of leather and using prestidigitation to mimic optical lensing so I have an impromptu telescope. Got to love the check bonus I get from having “Breaking the Limits”…I couldn’t do HALF the shit I get away with if I didn’t! I am the last one up, letting the three warriors on the Sk?rpn deck pull the ladder up behind me.
“Why are you, with your twig-like arms, on the archers’ deck?,” I hear you asking, across time and space, and in English too. Well there are TWO very good reasons, and they are BOTH the warriors from Járn. We are JUST high enough that my color spray and acid splash can reach foes below us, allowing me to help defend the tower if the enemy gets this close. Plus, I can use the same pseudo-telescope trick to help THEM see the battle as it is going on, and talk up the danger to their village should we fall. Basically, I’m here to bullshit them into telling Jarl Vorn to mobilize his warriors for our defence next winter.
We see the enemy coming from the woods in waves, like a tide coming in, and can hear their thundering mix of howls and barks. They are running FAST, faster than we could cover the same ground, but the wolves in their group charge in even FASTER. As they see the wall coming south from the northern mountains, most of the tide of wolves sweep south towards the wide gap between the two walls, only a few climbing the foothills to try and get behind it. Those few are quickly hacked apart by the force of warriors Borden placed there, to sweep around and “plug” the hole once the entire enemy is in the killing ground. I hope nobody got hurt too bad there, since I’m stuck here and both Aedirboa and Venradik are in the Jarl’s fortress for safety.
Then the flood of wolves hits the entrance to the killing ground, the archers atop the bunker-hills picking them off with arrows. Coming around the edge they are trapped between the steep-sided hills, with the stakes in them pointed downwards to keep the wolves from climbing. It doesn’t stop some of them from trying, only to be either caught on the stakes, or peppered to death with arrows from the archers on each hill firing into the others’ hillside.
Most of the wolves (and DOGS?!) flow between the hills, obsessed with getting into the town proper and tearing into people, only to hit the pungi-pits and being trapped to bleed to death. THIS slows the tide, the sudden death-wails of the dying trapped canines causing the ones behind them to slow down, and more cautiously creep through the killing field.
This is when the forward-most Sk?rpns open fire, their powerful low-angled spears impaling wolves up to three at a time, in the back near the opening. This makes the rest that have not entered the area yet break, having killed two thirds or so of the wolves, they run into the woods in terror. But the two-legged enemy…keeps coming. Oh, THAT is what I forgot about gnolls! They use their canine allies/slaves as disposable fire-and-forget weapons…they don’t CARE if they are killed, so long as it makes the gnolls’ assault EASIER.
With most if not ALL the pungi-pits revealed by their canine Polish-mine-detectors, the gnolls start to flow into the killing ground nearly untouched. Only an occasional archer from the bunker shooting at them, but nowhere near enough to break them…as planned. Some of the gnolls stop at each hill, hurling javelins upwards into the archers. We see a few of them hit, and I notice one falling after being impaled THROUGH the gut, so the archers do as planned. They grab their wounded and hustle down the sloped-side near the walls, using the thicker “lip” side to keep the entrance clear enough to get inside the bunkers and bar the doors…I hope. It isn’t like I can see THROUGH the same earthwork extrusion, to see if they make it inside before the gnolls work their way around to the bunker doors.
Then, reloaded and aimed, the Sk?rpn towers start in on the gnolls near the clumped-together bunkers, and they start dying by the dozen every minute. This attracts their attention, and the wave of furred evil starts swarming towards the towers, across the killing field into the tribe’s huts. As they get within range, I hear our Sk?rpn
Then the archers on the forward towers start shooting arrows wrapped in flaming oil-soaked rags into the huts in the back and front. Almost instantly catching them on fire, since the tribesmen threw flasks of lamp oil onto them once they heard the four
The enemy starts to panic, half of their force not trapped in the fires that creep from the edges inward, sparks flying from the lit homes to the ones not yet aflame. As they cry their howls into the sky, dying in droves, some of them manage to make it out into the farm fields where they are riddled with arrows and Sk?rpn spears from the rear towers. Unfortunately, their flaming hides still light some of the newly-planted fields alight. Thankfully they have not grown much to speak of, so at least little is lost.
The same cannot be said of the orchards, as many of the enemy ran north into the hills of that area, and light many of the houses, bushes, and trees on fire. I guess we are not the ONLY ones to be feeling our inner pyromaniacs!
The remainder of the enemy force is mostly in the killing ground, being peppered by Sk?rpn spears from the closest two towers, and occasionally being killed in twos and threes by one from our back row that falls onto their midst from above. With the wall to their southwest, the flaming hell to their east, and the houses on the hills to the north where random arrows are falling, they have no place to go. Except back out the way they came, the ones in back realize, as they turn to flee…only to run smack into the forward elements of the warriors that had been marching down from the northern divot in the wall ever since they spotted that the main group was entering the settlement.
With swordsmen bearing shields in the front, and archers behind shooting over them, the increasingly larger portion of our panicking enemy is thinned and staggered…and eventually slaughtered wholesale. I think I spot Torden’s flaming red head of dreadlocks in the front, “Mister Slammy” crushing and throwing back foes, and if it was him then I can IMAGINE the giant grin on his face! Unfortunately, many of the swordsmen falling to the blades or their javelins of our foes, some of which overshoot the front ranks and strike the archers. Hopefully Torden isn’t one of them, but I think Fjodr will protect him as much as he can.
It looks touch-and-go once the main enemy force routed, and we have to stop firing Sk?rpns for fear of hitting our own people in the increasingly messy melee. The drums set up atop the watch platform over the entrance to the Jarl’s fortress beats, Borden smacking it with a staccato one, pause, two, repeat rhythm. Looks like it is time for the finishing move.
As the sound of the signal echoes off the mountains behind us, the archers using the orchard hills and houses for cover drop their bows and arm themselves with the shields and nail-covered baseball bats on their backs. Then, forming up into groups of ten atop the hills closest to the killing ground, they charge into the enemy flank and rear, each as soon as it can. No way to be any more organized than this, we don’t have radios or anything, but hopefully the force of surprise lets them get into it in enough numbers to keep themselves from being wiped out.
As the hammer of the orchard’s semi-elders and young teen men slams into to enemy over and over again with their swinging “negans”, adding to their battle line with each ten-man blow, the anvil of the forces in the breach wind down their archers to avoid friendly fire. Instead they pull out the wounded, and replacing them with these relatively-fresh swordsmen. I say “swordsmen” only because MOST of them are wielding double-sided longswords, but many are also using large-bladed or long-handled axes, and some like Torden are wielding warhammers. I got to remember to make note of this when I write the events of today up. Now you know.
Unfortunately, we don’t get them all. Some of the enemy climbs into the creek bed, taking advantage of the gap between the mountain’s cliffs and the wall that we had to leave to prevent filling the pit in front of the wooden wall, to swim to safety. Well, MOSTLY they just drown as their arms’ weight makes them too heavy in the freezing water, with only about 1 in every 3 or 4 attempting escape by that route making it, for around a dozen escapees. But those that DO climb out of the creek past our own battle line, have to drop all their gear but their armor in the water, so they run into the woods laughably looking like soggy dogs. If we had some archers in reserve they could be picked off, but everybody we HAVE is needed to mop up the remaining hundred or so in the killing ground.
As the sun creeps past noon, the final wolf-like humanoid falls, and a ragged breathless cheer goes up from all our fighters. This draws the women, children, and other noncombatants that couldn’t make it into a thick-walled storehouses down from the foothills in the east and north of the village, to celebrate their loved ones surviving…but some to mourn their losses. But as the walking wounded gather at the near-empty winter storehouse to be tended by Venradik, or the meat-smoking house in the orchard for Aedirboa to patch up, the remaining relatively-untouched warriors gather their dead as well as carry out those who cannot walk. Even as the dying continues, from people too injured to save or too late to a healer, I’m walking through the ranks with a bag of bandages and medical goods, to try and save whom I can.
Once the sun starts to dip into night, and the dead are counted, all those left come to the same realization. Holy fuck…we ARE going to survive this winter!