BECMI Chapter 37 – Stragglers Here and There

They were an ornery and scowling bunch of hairy fellows. They smelled like sweat and abusing the booze here, and they were looking at us as if we were the ones responsible for the situation they were in.

They were also Clan Dworxen, which just begged a reason for why in the heck they were out here in the Bleaklands, and then that kind of just explained itself.

Either they were out here killing all the anthroids they could, or they were so fervently racist even their own kin couldn’t handle them, and were exiled to work out their aggression against any non-dwarves.

The Zanzyran Days of Infamy hadn’t even happened yet. These ten dwarves were just a bunch of xenophobic racists who blamed all problems on non-dwarves, instead of on themselves.

Currently the half-score of them were shouting and spitting at us, axes raised, shields up, plainly ready to sell themselves and working themselves up to charge our shield wall… sort of.

They didn’t like the way our shield wall was glowing, and the way all those spears were, too.

Which is why they were taunting the Northmen and trying to get them to break ranks, heaping insults upon them and daring them to test their courage, prove their manhood, calling them cowards and fools and other things which were getting the men increasingly heated.

“They are dogs, and they are yapping like dogs,” I said coldly, and doused their rising ire, interrupting the insults and curses of the dwarves with Magevoice slicing through everything they said.

I whipped my hand sideways, and all of the axes ripped free from the hands of the dwarves, thudding high into the walls, well above their ability to jump up and retrieve them. Suddenly, the dwarves had no weapons in hand.

They snatched at belt-daggers, and gawked as their daggers thunked into the wall right next to the axes.

The Frokki grinned at the dwarves, who were now flushed and clutching their shields tighter as they crowded in together, no weapons left to fight with now.

“Come at us, then! We’ll crack your skulls and break your bones on dwarven steel!” the most vicious-tongued of the dwarves promptly started venting again. “A dwarven fist is harder than a hundred elf-bitch staves-”

His words were interrupted by a cry of alarm as he was launched off his feet and went crashing into the far corner in a tumbling mess, falling to the ground in a clatter of armor, shield, and dwarf. His kin were all looking after him, which was helpful as one by one, they were launched after him, falling and clanging atop one another in a squirming pile of grunts and groans and no line discipline at all.

“Pin them. Strikers and First Swords, clear the top rooms! They should be clear, don’t dally long!”

“Sir!” they shouted, acknowledging the order, while I turned a cold eye on the dwarves who were moving very slowly back to their feet, cursing under their breath as their shields dropped under very dangerous enchanted spears hovering only a foot from their undefended faces.

“Broiled dwarf is actually rather tasty, Mistress!” Cirruluxul piped up, her head extended over the spearmen, surveying them coolly with sparks dancing between her eyes and teeth. All the dwarves flushed as dragonfear had its way with them, but there was nowhere to run, hedged in as they were.

“They are Wodxens. They taste like bile and rot, it runs in their veins as the lowest filth-strewn vomit of their people. They are of no consequence and will die alone and forgotten out here,” I replied dismissively to her, eyes on the upstairs where the two teams were running about quickly, making sure nothing else was hidden away up there.

Guyven came back to the railing. “Nothing but packs of dwarven supplies and some personal belongings, Lady Edge!” he called down to me.

“Leave it all, then. We know nothing remains of them in the future. They are meaningless! Prepare to pull back and take the next leap through the Portal!”

Orders were called out, and the teams up top abandoned everything quickly, streaming down the stairs with familiar haste, and were waved ahead of us down the stairs behind the kitchen.

The spears withdrew in quiet order, leaving the seething dwarves behind, who immediately ran over to the wall where their weapons were stuck, getting up on one another’s shoulders to urgently pull down their equipment.

“Did they already make a jump, Lady Edge?” Wizard Hanvol asked quickly, as everyone headed back downstairs.

“You saw the greed in their eyes, but the coins in the till were untouched. They’ve been here long enough to know everything resets, and the coins they grabbed in the future were not with them when they went through the Portal. They probably think everything here is cursed, and them with it. They’ve no Healer and they’ll die to enough wandering monsters soon enough, and be fed into gullets and a midden.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

There were grim chuckles from the listening Northmen. Not a coin had been taken from the dwarves, I was absolutely sure of that, and despite there being a half-dozen magical items among them, I’d not touched their gear, either.

“They’re going to come after us, aren’t they?” Sir Horn asked, as the lines formed up below. We all ignored the single dwarf bending down to watch us from the top of the stairs as we formed up.

“Their choice. Ignore them! Freedom or death is the goal, and we’re not going to die!” I set down the Beacon, lifted up the Silver Cone, and the golden Cone within gleamed, lifted into the air, and vanished before the eyes of the silently watching humans and dragon and hyn… and spying dwarf.

I stowed it away calmly. “Form up! Freedom or death!” I stated.

“Freedom or death!” they repeated grimly, and if there were more than a couple dwarves up above listening, it was what it was.

“Vampires!” I uttered, and the goblin vampire spawns in front of me lit up with a crisscrossing , flashing into vivic dust, giving them no chance to leap upon me or my followers.

My people followed me out, drifting vivus in the air showing something had been there, as well as the scattered weapons and clothing Burning on the floor.

“There’s a vampire overhead,” I informed them as the last of my team piled out. “Everyone will have to remain close to me, and I will Ward you against the life-drain of their bites.” Darkness swirled in the air, ghostly skulls with eyes of roses circled around me, and then converged on all of them. Even if they grimaced at them, none of them uttered a peep as a crawling black and white Aura licked across them. “Weapons up and ready! They know we are here!”

The following fight was brutal, as humanoids of all kinds, sucked clean of life and turned into vampire spawn, tougher and stronger than any living thing of their kind, ran into the glowing Weapons braced to meet them and died, trying to get gaping fangs into the throats of the living, or just smack them and drain their souls away… and none of that was happening.

Hammer Ogviel could keep them at bay, but could not send them fleeing, his Faith and power in his Patron not developed enough. That was fine, I was hacking and using Force Reserve to blast, while glowing spears and swords did their thing, bringing everything down viciously. I hit them all with vivus, and rather than discorporate and go to the beds or closets upstairs serving as ‘coffins’ or whatever, they all Burned.

There were humans and even dwarves among the dead, all red-eyed and long-fanged, but the master wasn’t showing himself as we pushed through the kitchen and out into the dining area.

My Aura of was out and working hard to keep the minds of my boys free, a few landing on them successfully, but any control was interrupted by the Aura, and terminated when the vampire spawn throwing it out there died.

Those in bat or rat form died, too, no mercy shown any of them, and they didn’t escape at IX+1 as I went hunting for them.

“Another traveler from another time? Interesting…” the tall and lean fellow with cadaverously pale skin coloration spoke up, studying me from the opposite end of the hall. A dozen vampire humans stood around him, some in armor, some not, clad in a style of clothing that wasn’t going to be popular for several centuries, nor was that accent.

His eyes flickered over me and those behind me, his Will reaching out… and was seriously rebuffed by my

Vines rose from the carpet and wound around me. He watched me with interest, invoking a spell of his own which surrounded him in a shimmering opaque globe of force. “Your lesser spells cannot harm me, elf. Stay your hand. I believe I have a proposal which may be of interest to you!” The more powerful of his minions readied their own spells in case I did nothing.

“That you might dine on us and those living in the taproom behind you?” I replied calmly, in much the same accent, surprising all of them. “Which one of Mordai’s get are you? Try to overthrow your master and ran frantically all the way into the Bleaklands to escape him?” I uttered back disparagingly. “That cut of attire seems very last century… Baron Cheovok, Pavlova?” I deduced, startling him. “The histories were quite ambivalent of what became of you after your attempt at treachery…”

“You know my name?” He seemed inordinately pleased of the fact.

“I memorized the names of the prior holders of the Transvyian provinces. There was a single mention of your name, and nothing else readily available, as if powerful magic had erased all mention of you from the written word. Happily, elves are not so limited in time as humans, and a few inquiries into the truth of the matter revealed the actual events and your true nature. You’ve had to jump four Portals because you ran out of wood to make coffins from, even as poor quality as they are, and naturally you still haven’t managed to break free of this place, and have no chance of doing so.

“Now just die.”

The that went off into the face of him and his counterspells was pretty violent there, but the was what really blew them away, a pure Radiant Fireball of sunlight that undead had no saving throw against, and which did no harm to the living other than forcing them to close their eyes against how bright it was.

Yeah, it blew apart that stupid , too, and his . Vivus made sure none of them wafted off into their coffins, as well.

“Lady Edge, may I be the first to say that we are all very glad that you are leading us in this effort,” Sir Horn spoke up into the silence after the light was down and the wild crackling of unleashed arcane fires was done ravaging the walls and carpet at the end of the hallway.

“Well, now we know who was cleaning up some of the dirt, especially from the last jump.” The common room had been almost swept clean, although the apartments had for some reason been left as is, likely because it was only spawn occupying them. “There are living creatures beyond that door, but the sides seem clear.

“Locate all coffins, chop them up, and either use them for firewood or dump them down a midden. Oh, and keep the clothing, if it’s serviceable. I think some of you want a change of attire.” Old Transvyian fashion was still fashion, and it was a stylish short cape.