7.7 - Expansion (Patreon)

7.7 - Expansion

Durge

He had not lied when Hess asked her question. 

But he did hold a secret of his own. One he’d discovered just scant hours before she’d asked the question even. 

That night, as they slept, troubled by Wyll’s transformation, anxious over the coming battle, tense, knowing that this Grove might soon become their tomb… he dreamt of that secret, relieved that it wasn’t revealed, that it couldn’t be revealed.

Because Gale had consumed the means of discovering it. 

The Grimoire had held powerful magic and spells. Thayan’s and their red wizards would hold that kind of power so it had been no surprise.

But the power it offered, to summon the souls of the dead to strike at your enemies, to summon the spectral hands and bodies of old as your thralls.

The spell’s power was based on those souls that you delivered to the afterlife yourself.

Just in this adventure alone, he’d already killed many. Cambions, Goblins, Bug bears…

But when he peered past the veil of death, when he looked upon the throng of souls that he could bring forth… he had not expected to view a legion

There were so many. Too many. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind. that he was perhaps only thirty years old.

And yet… there were enough souls to seem endless as he looked upon them all. Young, old, men, women, children, humans, elves, dwarves. Everything. He’d killed every type of creature 

Just who was he? What was in his past? What kind of person or monster could claim so many souls? Killed by his own hands no less.

The murky answer that lingered somewhere deep and dark and untouched… frightened him. And yet… it was his past. He needed to know. He had a right to know… no matter how terrifying. 

He slept that night, as troubled and restless as all the others, and in his dreams he looked upon these souls, these beings that were his victims in life and were now his victims again in death. To use as he needed. 

He looked at them… examined them. But there was no spark of memory as he did, just as there was no life in the hollow sockets of their eyes. 

But he dreamt the dream, counted the tally, even though somehow, he knew already the number, he knew how many stared back at him from the blackness of his own nightmares.

10,990

Ten thousand souls…

…

There was something dark and unnamable hiding deep within this wretched shell that called himself a leader.

It was a secret he was glad to hold onto for however long he could. 

—

“Ahh, there you all are.”

Barcus’ voice drags him out of the realm of sleep. Bright and chipper and pleased to see them. The deep gnome seems sprightly for the morning… or at least, Durge assumes it’s the morning. 

“What time is it?” He dares to ask as he yawns, sitting up and blinking away the sleep. 

The others begin to stir, the last few days of harsh travel and lacking sleep catching up. The only one that doesn’t is Hebert, likely because of the comfort of that hammock. 

He would not beg… But he hoped she was in the process of making more. His back could use the recovery time. 

“Just past seven or so, I believe.” The Gnome answers, waddling inside, and now that Durge notices he’s carrying a box, laden with items. 

“What’s that?” He asks.

Barcus sets the box down with a decisive thump of wood on stone. 

“Well, seeing as how if you all perish in the fight to come I will most likely be joining you in short order, I’ve made some items that will perhaps put the odds ever so slightly in your favor!”

He reached down, rummaging in the box. “Karlach.”

“Whznmt.” The Large Tiefling woman mumbled and yawned, rubbing sleep out of her eyes and staring blearilly at Barcus. 

The Gnome marched up to her with an odd device; it looked almost like a pocket watch, or at least it was that size. Small, disc shaped It shined like gold. “Dammon spent all night creating this out of the infernal iron-”

All at once Karlach’s eyes widened, and she scrambled up to her feet. “I can-”

“No, no.” Barcus shook his head, cutting her off from what she was thinking. “We’ve thought of something, but we’ll need more infernal iron and a bit more time before we can lower your temperature enough for you to touch people.” 

Karlach’s disappointment was obvious, but then she bounced back. “But… You’re saying it is possible, yeah!?”

“Yes.” Barcus nodded. “Between the two of us we’re certain we devised a proper mechanism in schematics at least. For now this-” He held up the small watch like thing to her. “-This can help regulate your temperature up. Give you power. It’s strictly meant to be temporary. Prolonged increases to your temperature might break the mechanism entirely. No longer than thirty seconds with at least five hours between uses!”

Karlach smiled. “Not a problem doctor.” She said, and Durge had little doubt that she intended to push that ‘thirty second limit’ as far as she could get away with. 

Barcus handed the tiny thing over, and it looked even smaller in Karlach’s hands than in his. 

Durge couldn’t see properly from this angle, but it looked like she genuinely reached up to around her collarbone and with a fleshy squelch and a burst of flame peeled her chest cavity open.

Barcus stared, the fires of the infernal engine and Karlach’s insides lighting up his entire face as Karlach fiddled with her own heart. He could hear the faint sound of screaming souls from here. He was familiar with the sound by now, and infernal engines were powered by the things, burning them up as fuel. 

No doubt, it was agony for the damned. 

Then, something clicked. And the flames engulfing Karlach’s body surged, the warm campfire that she was becoming a roaring bonfire that made him lean his head away with the flash of heat. 

“Oh fuck yes!” The woman laughed, allowing her flesh to reknit itself closed, muscles flexing as she moved and tensed her limbs as the flames rose higher. 

“Reign it in.” He called. “Test it when we’re outdoors please.”

“Right, sorry.” She didn’t look sorry at all, and her eyes gleamed with excitement. 

Barcus nodded and then turned away towards, of all people, Shadowheart, with a pair of leather gloves. 

“Excuse me miss.”

Shadowheart who was still lying on her bedroll blinked, surprised at being addressed. “Yes… sorry. Difficult sleep.” She said, stifling a yawn. 

“No worries. regardless, here.” He held out the gloves. “These have been enchanted so that whenever healing magic is channeled through them, warding magic will also be granted for a short time. It will help ward off blades, arrows, hammers and what not.”

Shadowheart’s eyes widened a bit and she reached forward to grasp the gloves and take them, as though she were worried that Barcus might change his mind after a second. “Enchantments like these would normally cost a fortune.”“We cannot spend a fortune if we’re all dead.” Barcus said and then made his way back to the box before pulling free a small quiver with five arrows.

“Miss Hess!” He held up the quiver, waddling over to her.

“Huh? Something for me?” Hess looks almost flabbergasted at the notion. 

“Quite right.” Barcus smiles. “My own design. Your phasing ability is quite fascinating.” He pulled free an arrow from the quiver. “The brilliant retort! Each arrowhead is filled with smoke-powder. Phase it into an armored enemy and Boom!”

He shoved it back into the quiver. “Only enough material for five. Make the shots count.”

Hess took the arrows and a smile began crawling across her face. “The chicken shits in the PRT would never. This is great, short-stuff!”

Barcus didn’t seem to appreciate the nickname, but he cleared his throat and didn’t make mention of it. “Right, now-” He went back to the box. “For Miss Hebert-”

That made the smile slip off Sophia’s face and Durge had to resist the urge to snort, amused. 

But Hebert is still asleep, so he raises his hand. “Let her rest. I’ll take it for her.” 

The Gnome makes his way over. “A simple thing really. Her boots for the webs are useful but gloves that do the same will give her more versatility. I simply copied the enchantment over.”

He hands the gloves over. They’re small, fingerless things, capable of retaining that freedom of movement she needed for her ‘Monk’ techniques.

The leather was of fine quality as well. 

For all that the Gnome downplayed it, it was clear he took care and pride in his work. 

Durge gave him a nod of gratitude. “Thank you Barcus.”

“Yes, well, Your success ensures we live so… succeed.” The Gnome offered a singular, firm nod before turning around, gathering his box and waddling back out of the cavern. 

Once he heads out Durge falls back onto his bed roll. “Is anyone fully getting up?” He asked. 

“Vampires have no need for sleep. You’re all dreadfully boring like this, you know.” Astarion complained from where he lay flat on his roll, hands over his stomach. 

“Congratulations.” Durge yawned. “You just volunteered to make breakfast.”

“You think the vampire that can’t eat can cook? Your funeral.”

He was sure the bastard was just lying to be lazy.

“I’m up.” Karlach said. “Feel like I could run a marathon with this thing in my chest.”

“Marathon a meal for us if you please.” He requested as politely as he could before shutting his eyes for at least a few minutes of sleep. 

“Aye Aye Capn, I’m sure I can do… something without burning it. How hard can it be?” 

She grabbed hold of the iron skillet and Durge could hear its handle sizzling.

Oh for goodness sake!

—

It couldn’t have been more than an hour later when they each emerged from the underground caverns. 

But it looked like they’d slept through the day almost straight into night.

The storm clouds overhead were black, rain fell in sheets, the winds howled.

It looked like an entirely different world. 

Durge couldn’t imagine being caught out in this. Just standing here in relative shelter, he felt as though he was standing at the edge of danger. Even the druids that were conducting the ritual had other druids surrounding them in a dome of protection.

Off in the distance he could hear the crack of tree limbs breaking. And no doubt the winds were slicing through the hollow like cold knives, scything through the tieflings that were hunkering down for shelter within. 

“Nature’s fury, unbound.” Halsin said quietly as the Arch druid stepped up beside him. 

Durge nodded. “Beautiful and Terrible.”

Halsin makes a sound, that vaguely sounds like agreement. 

“It’ll be tough to fight in this.” Durge remarks. “For both sides.” 

“Silvanus’ blessings will be upon us, we will be protected, I’ll make certain.”

Good. So only the Goblins will have the disadvantages. 

“But there is nothing to be done about Miss Hebert’s swarm I’m afraid.”

“The swarm would be more useful than the rain.” Durge argues.  Halsin, surprisingly, nods. 

“I made an error. Did not understand her full capabilities before I called for the rite.” 

“You can’t call it off?” He asked. 

“Such magics are powerful, they cannot simply be ‘called off’. Even were we to stop now, the storm would remain for quite some time before it broke.”

Not ideal. But- Durge shrugged. “We’ll make do.”

“Aye.” Halsin nodded. “Do you think she’ll be alright? Without her swarm so weakened during this battle?”

Durge chuckled “She’s capable and adaptable. And I’ll be keeping watch.”

The last part slipped free, unbidden, before he realized, yes. He would be watching over her. He’d watch them all, but her…

He snorted under his breath. The blood on his hands could fill cities. And here he was getting protective.

Who was he kidding?

Halsin smiled at him, oblivious to the monster standing beside him before the man looked up, his eyes finding a large eagle descending from the skies. 

The beast let out a shrieking call, and Halsin’s eyes narrowed.

“They’re near.” He said. “The Wards are failing.”

Durge felt a nervous flutter in his stomach. No. Not nervousness.

Anticipation. 

Halsin turned and began heading off out into the torrent. “I’ll gather my druids and send word to Zevlor. We’ll meet you by the gate!”

Durge nodded at the man’s back, turning and heading back inside “I’ll gather my team.”

Because yes. Monster or not were his team

—

Everyone who would fight passed by and touched the idol of Silvanus, and when they stepped out into the rain and the howling winds, it was like stepping out into a summers day. The winds did not buffet them, the rain did not soak them. It was strong druidic magic and it would serve them well.

Tieflings had worked through the hours to barricade and prepare the ‘battlements’ that made up the Gate’s framing cliffside for battle. They’d lined the tunnel with explosives, digging deep trenches around each barrel of black powder and oil to keep them dry. If any Goblins got through the stout gate, they would be in for a nasty surprise. 

Durge directed the cavalcade of misfits that were his, sending Astarion up to the highest vantage he could, near where a Tiefling woman had set up a telescope on a high bluff. Shadowheart was with Nettie, near the rear of the battle formation, the fallback point, where the wounded could be dragged for healing to get back into the fight. 

Karlach and Lae’zel waited at the mouth of the tunnel that was the gate entrance. Wyll and Gale were mixed in with the Tiefling archers and druids. Wyll’s offensive magic could rain down from above along with Durge’s and Gale’s defensive spells could shunt aside arrows or opposing spells.

Madison and Barnes were in the rear, with the youngest of the tieflings and the most inexperienced of the druids.

The reserves.

In truth, Shadowheart and Nettie would best be served using them as search and rescue. Bodies to drag back the wounded into their care. 

If they needed to fight themselves… then the battle was likely over and not in a way that favored their side. 

And lastly.

“You two will be at my side.”

“Fuck yeah.” Hess smirked. Hebert gave no reaction. He’d almost say she expected such, if she weren’t so inherently stoic and difficult to read.

It made him smile. 

“Hess.” He nodded to her. “Your arrows, the ones Barcus gave you.”

“Yeah?” She asked.

“Save them for the targets I designate. Goblins lose cohesion when their leaders die, those five arrows are invaluable. The faster they die the better our odds.”

The girl offered him a thumbs up, a vicious smirk on her face. Relishing being ‘cut loose’ “Got it.” 

He turned to Taylor. “You have your own task. Coordination.” He intoned. “You need to tell me where they’re pressing, where they might break through. The battlefield is small, but in the confusion and chaos of fighting things might happen that we need to be aware of fast. You will tell me.”

“I understand.”

“Good.” He planted a hand on her shoulder, and he caught the barest flicker of surprise and seeing it made him realize and pull his hand away. 

The rains fell, the winds howled and Durge could see the nervousness in the Tiefling defenders, the wary glances of the druids.

In total, they had just over seventy men and women here, not including his own people or the reserves that were little more than children. 

Seventy… against six hundred. 

Even if the horde was just Goblins and it wasn’t confirmed that Ogres, Gnolls, Bugbears, Hobgoblins and Drow were in the horde… it was long odds. 

He thought for a moment about leaving. About taking the hidden tunnel and slipping away.

And then he wondered what the others might say to that. How they would react. 

Lae’zel would not care. Neither would Astarion.

Shadowheart would pretend not to. But she would look at him differently. Look at him with her shields up. Her judgement finding him callous and untrustworthy. She made a poor Sharran. 

Gale’s fate was bound to their mercy, he would hold his silence but he would remember and be like Shadowheart.

Karlach and Wyll would die before leaving this place. 

And that left the girls. 

Barnes he could not read. Perhaps she would not care. Perhaps she would. Her mind was fractured and maddened. Shifting with the tides of her mania. 

Clements would be silent, but she would not trust him. Would not look at him as she does now. 

Hess. Hess was… shifting. Changing. Perhaps today she would not care beyond the lack of violence. But what of tomorrow? What of the days and months after?

And Hebert.

For all her stoicism. For all her pragmatism. 

She was like Wyll and Karlach.

She would break before she bent. 

And so the answer was clear enough. 

“My friend.” Zevlor it seems, was done steeling the spines of his Tieflings. The Hellrider was sporting a set of heavy armor, a greatsword on his back. He looked every inch a warrior of fallen Elturel. “Are you ready? That Horn will shatter the Wards, and call every Goblin here with how loud it is.”

Durge turned his gaze towards the Horn in question. 

It was a massive thing, fashioned from old oak and the enchantments on it were powerful enough that Gale would get a full course meal out of it. It would take two or three men to carry it if it weren’t fixed in place. 

“We’re gathered. Ready, and not getting any less tired.” He answered, beginning to make his way towards the massive wooden horn. 

He reached it and spared one last glance around the battlements, one more look to any and all around him.

And then, with a deep breath, he blew into the horn. 

He felt the Wards shatter like glass. The faint traces of their lingering, weakening magics vanishing like smoke on the wind. The Horn sounded like thunder it rumbled here along the ground as the skies rumbled above. 

For a moment, as he looked out into the forests beyond the Grove nothing occurred.

A minute ticked by, then another.

And then, through the rain and the fog and the cold, shadows began to move through the trees.

Tieflings nocked arrows, Druids sent prayers to Silvanus, animal companions roared and screeched and chirped, A menagerie coming alive as small armored beasts came out of the trees. Ogres and Gnolls, Goblins, Hobgoblins, Bugbears and drow. Just as they said.

The horde hooted and rumbled, Goblinoid chants polluting the air. Gnolls yipped and howled into the sky as Ogre’s roared. 

Goblins mounted on spiders crawled out of the shadows and Durge’s head snapped over towards Taylor.

The girl caught his look… and smiled. 

He smiled back, his own confidence swelling.

Something lurched into his mind. He felt the connection, Taylor and Hess hissed.

“True Soul.” The Voice was female, and Durge’s eyes were drawn out to the open field, where a slim drow stared back at him.

Her skin was granite black, her hair powdery snow and eyes that shined like Amethysts even from this distance. “The Absolute wishes this place destroyed, as a True Soul you are bound by our God to obey. Open that gate.”

Durge’s mind pulsed… like a handshake. 

“The absolute and I have… a disagreement. I’m afraid you’ll have to do this the hard way”

He could feel her fury, her indignation at the defiance of their God.

“I will dissect you.” She promised. 

Durge thought back to the thousands upon thousands of dead hiding in the murky shadow of his past… and laughed at the taunt.

“You aren’t a threat” He goaded. “You’re… inventory.”

Her fury spiked, and with a shout in her language the Goblins began to roar and holler banging their shields, waving their banners. 

But they didn’t charge. Not yet.

Something came out of the forest at the woman’s back.

It was steel, it was different. The Goblins howled like frenzied zealots at the sight of it. A beast of two wheels, clad in armor.

The monster had a rider. A rider in armor that Durge had never seen the like of. 

He felt a tadpole pulse. The Goblins parted, clearing the way for the thing. They chanted and stamped their feet, beat their drums as though they were heralding a champion. 

He saw Hebert and Hess stiffen, a surprise and sudden horror from the both of them.

“What is it?” He asked immediately. This thing was unknown. And the unknown was dangerous. 

“That’s…” Hess swallowed thickly. “That’s… Fuck! Hebert tell me I’m not seeing this!”

“We’re both seeing him.” Taylor muttered.

“That’s Armsmaster! That’s fucking Armsmaster!”

Armsmaster. A Hero. A hero from their world.

One of the strongest.

He looked back at the thing, the metal beast that roared, its engines howling like an enraged Dragon.

The sound made the tieflings flinch, it sent fear and panic rippling through the ranks

The Tadpole pulsed, and he felt the man’s mind.

It was not like Hebert’s it was not like Hess.

It was enslaved.

“For The Absolute!”

The monster he rode roared. It made the very air tremble, it rivaled the thunder in the skies and then it rocketed forward

And the gate that could have withstood damn near anything thrown at it for at least a short while was blasted apart in a thunderclap of fire and roaring lightning in an instant.

The Goblin horde Howled

And that’s when they charged!

Yes. Armsmaster being here was foreshadowed.Go back and read QA's interlude, multiple shards followed her explicitly. Not just one for Sophia. Several. He's the one that got the Merc to confess to where the Grove was located (Truth Serum)He's the one that moved Halsin out of the interior pen and into the exterior (Why would you have an animal piss and shit inside spreading disease when you can simply cage him outside

And yes, without "The Emperor's" protection, his mind was almost immediately co-opted and enslaved by the Absolute via tadpole. So I have been looking forward to this for a while and now we get to see Armsy in his full and terrifyingly lethal glory against the people infront of him that have never seen a 'Tinker', let alone a Tinker at his level.This is gonna be so so much fun. :DCan't promise the next chapter will be out fast because it is a fight (a rather big one) and it needs to have "care" given to it. But this fight and the immediate aftermath mark the end of arc seven where afterwards we'll go on break so I can finish Ragnarok

I'll catch you all in the next one :D