Gwen groaned as she opened her eyes. She blinked repeatedly in disbelief at what she saw. “I must be dreaming,” she said, surveying the verdant garden around her.
“You are,” a voice answered. Gwen looked in the direction it came and spotted a beautiful half-elf with golden hair standing there. “I must say, though, I am disappointed.”
“Disappointed?”
“Yes. Hit by a rock? Really?”
Gwen felt offended by the remark. “I was saving a child!” she protested.
The woman’s expression turned neutral and she clapped mockingly. “I’m sure that will impress the orcs.” The woman grabbed a sheep and sheared it of its wool with a single swipe from a bastard sword. “I bet, when they find your unconscious body, Throg will turn to Brog and say ‘No, we leave this one alone. She was a good girl and got hurt saving a kid.’”
Gwen pulled herself to her feet. “So what? Don’t save anyone?! Is that what you want me to do?” she asked angrily.
The woman tilted her head, her lips pulling back in a wolfish grin, revealing impossibly white teeth. “Of course not. I’m just saying that you’re not strong enough to be Obrek. So stop acting like him.”
Gwen was confused. “Who is Obrek?” she asked.
“Oh, right. You never met him. Sometimes I forget that you people don’t know everything I know. Okay, so quick explanation. He’s a paladin, and he is constantly putting himself into danger to save others. But he is the toughest person I’ve ever met. He can take it. You can’t.”
The woman had a point, but Gwen still didn’t think her decision had been wrong. “So what do you suggest?”
“You have several options. You could choose to be faster. Get the kid out before the rock can hit either of you. Or you could choose to be smarter. You saw the rock hit the building. You might have known that it would keep falling and end up rolling down the hill. But if you cannot be that, you must be more calculating. Your town needs defenders. What if you save that kid, but the town falls because you weren’t there to help? You’ll just have consigned him to a life of slavery instead. Is that what you want?”
Gwen could not think of a worse fate. That was her greatest fear, to be captured and made a slave of the orcs. She wouldn’t wish it on her most hated enemy. “No,” she said.
“I thought not,” the woman said, smiling genuinely as she tossed more wool on the pile she was working on.
“What are you doing?” Gwen asked.
“My shepherds are still busy rebuilding their world. Someone has to attend to the sheep, lest they become naught but food for wolves.”
Gwen considered what she said. “Are we the sheep? Are you going to help us?”
“Sorry, no. My old boss asked me not to interfere. I’ve only brought you here to amuse myself at your misfortune.” She motioned over to a nearby table. Gwen walked to it. On the table was a giant, hand drawn map. It was easy to see that it depicted Trunau and the surrounding area. On the map were hundreds of small figurines, and each of them was moving on its own.
There were primarily two colors of figurines. One set was grey, and it was easy to see that those were the villagers and other defenders. The other set was green, and obviously the orcs. There were just so many green ones. Possibly hundreds. “This isn’t just a raid,” Gwen said.
“No. They’ve come for conquest.”
“What will happen if we lose?”
“I think you know. For you… well, I don’t think you’re going to die. It happens in many of the possible futures. But in most of them, you live, and wish you had died.”
Gwen gasped, fighting back tears. “No…please…”
“I didn’t say losing was inevitable, only that was what would happen if you do. If it makes you feel better, if you lose, the one behind the conquest of Trunau will become arrogant, and will draw down retribution on herself.”
“What do you mean?”
The woman’s eyes glowed with golden light as she answered, her voice reverberating with the power of prophecy. “Great silver birds will darken the skies over Belkzen. The orcs will have squandered the last chance to prove themselves redeemable, and his hand will sweep across the orcish nations. In his wake, all that will remain is death and devastation. Within a year, there will be no more than a dozen full blooded orcs remaining on all of Golarion, and those that survive will only do so because of kinship to the Silver Champion.”
“I don’t understand.”
The woman’s eyes returned to normal. “Trunau won’t be the last town to fall to orcs,” she said, smiling. “But in five hundred years, no one will even remember what orcs looked like. Of course, there will be some half orcs remaining for a time, but eventually their orc blood will dilute and their people will be nothing more than a memory. Your kids will likely be among the last generation of true half orcs, so there’s that.”
Gwen got angry again. “I will NOT be a mother to those misbegotten things!”
“Well, then you only have two choices. Either win, or…” She tossed a knife at the girl’s feet. “You can choose not to wake up. I trust you know the motions. Make the cuts, and I promise you will never awaken.”
Gwen picked up the knife and considered it. She shook her head and offered the knife back to the woman. “No. My cousin wasn’t a coward, and neither am I. I will fight.”
The golden-haired woman smiled. “Good. It’ll be more entertaining that way, no matter the outcome.”
Something on the table caught Gwen’s eye. It was a bright flash. “That’s a beacon! Someone lit another one!”
“My old boss is cheating to help your people out. Not much, but maybe you have a chance. Personally, though, I can’t wait to see what that one does,” the woman said, indicating the lone red figurine, moving from the village into the orc lines outside of town. He appeared to be heading towards one of the catapults, and none of the orcs seemed to notice him.
“Who is that?” Gwen asked.
“A wildcard,” the woman said, grinning. “No one planned on his presence. Not my old boss, not that demon wench… no one. But I saw him coming. It will be most interesting to see what he does.” She then looked at the board, touching one figure in general. “Huh. My old boss has no hold over this one. He literally couldn’t say anything if I happened to give it a nudge in the right direction. I mean, her boss might get mad, but I doubt she’ll even notice. Perhaps I can help you a little, after all.”
Pain wracked Gwen and the girl cried out. “What… What is happening to me?!”
“Ooh. Ouch. Yeah, it’s time for you to wake up. Getting healed by that spell isn’t terribly unpleasant while you’re awake, but if it hits you while you’re here… well, the pain is your incorporeal dream-self turning into a devil. You’ll be fine. It just hurts like Hell.” She giggled at her own joke. “Be careful out there,” the woman said. “And if you have to die, try to make it entertaining.”
As Gwen dreamed, Valbrand, Kermit and Qumeel joined up with Omast to continue fighting. The first order of business was the orcs on the inner wall who were securing ropes so their comrades could get inside. And Valbrand had a plan. He quickly pulled his grappling hook from his bag and handed it to Omast. “What am I supposed to do with this?” Omast asked. “We have a ladder on this side. We don’t need to scale the wall.”
“Throw it at that guy,” Valbrand said, pointing at one of the orcs. “Then we’ll pull him off the wall and you can stab him with your sword.” He then turned to Kermit. “I’m going to throw you at that guy,” he said, pointing at another orc. Kermit nodded and powered down, then hopped up onto Valbrand’s shoulders.
“And what of me?” Qumeel asked as he recovered his sword from the blazing beacon.
“Climb the ladder and start cutting ropes.”
“Understood.”
Valbrand was not a particularly stealthy individual in the best of cases, and right now he was so keyed up from battle that he wasn’t even trying. In fact, he was shouting to make sure he was heard by the others. So, of course the nearest orc – Kermit’s target – heard them. He turned, spotted the group, and grabbed his javelin. He then hurled it. Poorly. So poorly that he unbalanced himself on the narrow ledge and began windmilling his arms so he wouldn’t fall face first ten feet into the ground not far from apparent foes.
Valbrand noticed that the orc was young and mostly unscarred. This was no warrior, or at least, he was an untested warrior, likely fighting in his first real battle. He was young, callow, and no real threat. A quick glance at the two nearest orcs on the wall told him that the same was likely true of those as well.
The orc overcorrected, stumbled backwards and went tumbling over the waist high section of palisade behind him. Even through the din of battle and the wall between them, the group of defenders could hear the orc’s hard landing. Omast visibly winced.
The nearest orc heard the fall as well, turned to investigate and ran towards the ladder, shouting a battle cry. Omast forgot the plan and drew his crossbow, shooting at the orc and grazing him. Valbrand, however, didn’t forget the plan, only adapted it since Kermit’s original target was down. Thankfully, a new one had run close enough.
Valbrand hurled the grippli. “GUYVER!” Kermit shouted, transforming as he flew. He slammed into the orc, biting deeply into its shoulder. The orc shrieked in pain and surprise, and only an already empty bladder prevented it from wetting itself.
From Kermit’s vantage point, the grippli noticed one of the catapults launching a boulder. Only, the catapult’s arm snapped mid-motion and the boulder lobbed high into the air, landing directly on another catapult and destroying it as well. And that wasn’t the only siege engine that was destroyed. Most of them appeared inoperable. He’d thought the shots had become a lot less frequent, but had attributed it to a lack of ammunition.
Omast picked up the grappling hook and went to play his part in the plan. He tossed it, and it landed on the hard ground with a clang. Only, the orc he’d been aiming at didn’t notice. Not only was he oblivious to the sound of battle, he had missed an attempt on his own life. He was an idiot, and Valbrand gaped. Men like that did not last long on the battlefield.
Kermit let out a shriek as he tore his target apart. Most of its torso went flying over the wall into the crowd below and he held up the orc’s legs, one in each hand, as if to say, “Who wants to be beaten to death with the remains of your friend?”
Several of the orcs on the ground below bolted at the sight, but the ones on the rope weren’t so lucky. They hadn’t seen what Kermit had done, and the grippli yanked the entire rope up with two surprised orcs hanging on it. He then grabbed the closest orc’s skull with one of his claws and squeezed.
The orc’s head exploded with a sickening crunch, and the orc below him, now covered in blood and brain matter, let go of the rope and fell about ten feet, landing on the spear of an orc below, impaling himself and breaking the arm of the unfortunate and surprised spearman.
The sound of Kermit’s shriek – completely unlike anything else on the battlefield – finally drew the attention of the painfully oblivious orc, who turned just in time to see the grappling hook miss him by inches and then the recovered javelin Valbrand had thrown smash into the wall far below him. He took only seconds to take in the scene and immediately bolted. Omast shot at him with his crossbow as the orc fled, managing to lodge a bolt in the orc’s calf. It slowed him, but he continued his retreat.
Qumeel finally reached the top at about the same time and hurriedly moved to cut the nearest rope. The orcs on it fell hard onto the ground and one was knocked unconscious, though none died. “What now?” the cleric shouted down to Omast.
“We defend this wall until I can come up with something better to do!” the guard shouted back.
Valbrand brandished his axe. “They’ll keep coming for a time,” he said with a grin. “There will be plenty to do.” Omast stared at him in disbelief. Was it possible the big man was enjoying himself?
Back at the commons, Gwen groaned as she awoke. Jazier was standing over her. “I am sorry,” he said. “I healed you, but I must tell you that the devil’s blood I used to fuel the spell will never come out of your clothes. They are ruined.”
“I can get new clothes,” the girl answered, accepting his hand as he helped her up. “Thanks.”
“You are welcome,” he said with a nod. He felt a tug on his sleeve and turned to see Ruby standing there. “Yes, child?”
“My mom’s hurt. Can you help her too?”
Jazier looked and noted Halgra’s injuries. Her leg was obviously broken, snapped at the knee and twisted at a horrifying angle. And her arm had been absolutely shattered by the impact, and was covered in terrible, black burns. The wizard hesitated. It was likely beyond his skill. “Go,” Gwen told him.
He nodded. “I will try.”
As he tended Halgra’s wounds, Pearl was doing her best to calm the crowd. It wasn’t working well, since the Commons was supposed to be their place of refuge and it was currently on fire. “Where are we supposed to go?” one woman asked. But Pearl had no answers.
Lucky Days got up and joined everyone once more. She found Jazier healing Halgra. The woman was screaming in pain as her shattered bones slowly knitted together. “Just be glad it was not a bear trap,” Jazier said seriously. “You would be as good as dead.”
“Do catapults throw bear traps?” Lucky Days asked. “Do you think we should go check on Mister Qumeel?”
Halgra, remembering the reports, laughed bitterly in spite of her pain. “Please, Halgra, tell us where to go,” a panicked woman begged.
The Chief Defender had no answer. Things had gone absolutely wrong. The enemy had known where to hit them and had hit hard. This could easily spell the end for Trunau. She was about to answer that she didn’t know, when a voice rang out from the gate in front of the Commons. “We have made a safe place at the southern barricade,” Tyari Varvatos said, her voice ringing out like a pure silver bell. The crowd turned and spotted her, along with the paladin Brantos at her side. “We’ve gathered all the supplies we could and will make our stand there. It will be as safe as anywhere in town. But getting there will be dangerous. There’s no way for us to move this many without attracting attention.”
Halgra looked and caught Gwen’s eye. The girl nodded. “We’ll get everyone there,” she said, chambering a round in her gun. “Everyone gather up. Get the kids to the center of the group. Lucky Days, you and Sakura-chan will be our vanguard. Jazier and I will stand at the outer edges. Tyari, please help Halgra and keep an eye on the rear.”
No one argued. They just prepared as best they could while Tyari tried healing Halgra’s wounds as best she could. It was clear that the woman would need serious magical healing – beyond even Tyari’s skill – if they were to ever have her walking without a limp again. But her wounds were no longer at all life threatening.
They began moving, painfully slowly, through town, and were at the bridge with no incident not long after. It was there that they saw – or perhaps better put, heard – their first orcs. From under the bridge came a voice. “Stop fighting!” it barked. “Or I’ll go get five more of my best men and I promise you they won’t be nearly as gentle!”
There was the sound of a woman weeping, which was more than enough to cause both Gwen and Lucky Days to immediately spring into action. Lucky Days was closer – and faster, obviously, and she charged under the bridge. Once there, she found a red-headed young woman pinned down by an orc. Her dress was torn, exposing her left breast which had a large bruise from where she had been grabbed roughly, and the bottom of the dress was yanked up, exposing her bare lower section.
The orc on top of her did not seem to have gotten his trousers down yet, which Lucky Days was thankful for, as that meant she wasn’t too late. And another orc was watching, a mocking sneer on his face. It was apparent that he had been the one talking. As he was the closest, Lucky Days charged him and slashed with Sakura-chan. The orc cried out in surprise and his companion leapt to his feet, releasing the poor girl, who ran in the direction Lucky Days had come from.
Gwen spotted the girl, tears streaking down her freckled face and her hand covering her exposed breast, at the same time she saw the orc Lucky Days was engaging. She knew the girl. It was Aleril, a girl a couple years younger than her who helped her parents run a stall at the market. She was such a sweet girl, and everyone liked her. And those…THINGS… had put their hands on her. The girl ran behind Gwen, cowering.
Seeing red, Gwen raised her weapon. At the same time, she heard Jazier chanting a spell and her gun began to crackle with electricity. She glanced at him. “Don’t miss,” the wizard said.
“I won’t,” Gwen replied, taking aim and hitting the orc dead in his shoulder. The wound crackled with the spark of lightning contained within the bullet.
From the back of the crowd, Tyari heard the fighting, but hesitated at leaving the flank unprotected. “I can handle it,” Brantos said.
Halgra nodded in agreement. “Go. Redeem yourself in Iomedae’s eyes.”
Tyari nodded and rushed through the crowd, getting close enough to see the girl cowering behind Gwen, and Lucky Days being flanked by a pair of orcs. The girl had been slashed, and while the wound was not fatal on its own, it did not bode well. “Iomedae, even if you hate me for my transgressions, please, grant me the power to aid these people in their time of need,” she prayed. Healing energy flowed through her and a burst of healing light erupted, healing the injuries of both Aleril and Lucky Days, but not touching the wounds suffered by the orcs.
Gwen fired again, hitting the first orc in the head. The burst of lightning exploded within his skull and blood spattered all over Lucky Days. “Eww!” the girl said, focusing on the remaining orc. Watching her, he didn’t notice as Tyari charged up behind him until it was too late to dodge her attack.
The cleric slashed him with her blade, which was polished to a silver sheen and appeared to never have seen use in combat. The wound wasn’t deep, but it got his attention, and he turned his back to Lucky Days, who moved at an impossible speed and drove Sakura-chan into the small of his back, screaming in anger as she did so. The blade sparked as it struck, having also been enchanted by Jazier as she’d fought. She then yanked the blade upward and it cut all the way up his spine before coming up out of the base of his neck, missing his skull by inches. Gore and viscera splattered all over her, but did not touch Tyari.
“Oh, Kurgess!” Lucky Days shouted, spitting. “My mouth was open! Yucky!”
Tyari cleaned then sheathed her sword before moving to tend to the girl’s wounds. Jazier moved in as well, and immediately began cleaning her with magic. “Thanks, Jazz Hands,” she said.
Gwen turned to Aleril. “Are you okay?” she asked.
The sobbing girl clung to her. “He didn’t get me,” she swore. “Please believe me.”
Gwen hugged her. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” But she noticed the blood drying on the girl’s leg. They may not have completed the deed, but Aleril was definitely not unscathed. “We made these ones pay for hurting you. And I promise, we’ll keep killing them until they learn to leave us alone. And maybe a few more after that for good measure.” Her voice was filled with quiet rage.
The girl nodded, but sobbed quietly in Gwen’s arms. A few moments later, Tyari came and tended to her wounds, then one of the elderly midwives took her into the relative safety of the crowd.
After gathering the orcs’ weapons and distributing them to the crowd, they got moving again. “Should I scout ahead?” Lucky Days asked Gwen.
“Do it,” Gwen said. “But keep within sight of us so we can help you if something ambushes you.”
“Can do!” Lucky Days answered, already dashing ahead. She made it about seventy feet away and peered down the side street. There were dogs. So many dogs. And they were going systematically from building to building, as if they’d been trained to search for survivors.
One of the dogs spotted her. It bared its teeth, but then turned and ran off. Not sure what to do, Lucky Days then ran back to the group and reported what she’d seen. “Everyone get ready for combat,” Gwen said. If those dogs had been trained to find survivors, they were likely trained to go get their master. There was no telling how many they’d be facing.
It didn’t take long for them to find out. A woman’s voice spoke as a figure emerged from an alleyway. “Where do you think you’re going?” the orc asked. She was wearing a bearskin hat and several chains that matched those worn by the dogs. Dogs which had now surrounded the group of survivors. “Don’t you want to play with my dogs?”
That a woman would be involved with what was going on enraged Gwen. She knew that the orcs were rapists and murderers who took what they wanted, but part of her had believed that surely the women couldn’t be that bad. Surely they were victims of the aggression shown by the male orcs. But her last shred of hope for the orcs washed away in that instance. The whole race was irredeemable, and the world would be better if every last one of them was gone.
Lucky Days let out a battle cry and charged. The woman was not at all expecting that kind of speed – naturally, the dog had not exactly been able to explain that part – and the orc narrowly avoided an instantly fatal blow only because of the chains wrapped around her torso. Gwen spun to her right, firing and injuring one of the dogs as another on the other side of the crowd charged Jazier.
The wizard frantically cast a spell, and it went off just as he grabbed the dog’s head in a desperate attempt to keep it from biting him. Lightning arced between his hands, straight through the dog’s brain, killing it. The dog Gwen shot managed to bite her leg, but she kicked free, reloading as she stepped back and shooting it once more, felling it.
Another dog bit one of the midwives, who had put herself between the dog and the child it was charging. The wound was deep, and it was likely that the woman would lose her arm, even with magical healing. Tyari prayed, beseeching Iomedae to send her someone to help protect the children.
As this happened, Lucky Days fought with the orc woman. The woman wielded a two-headed axe of orcish design, and fighting against it wasn’t something the girl was used to. She managed to block one blow with Sakura-chan, but the other head spun past, slashing her. The wound wasn’t life threatening, but it really hurt.
Another dog attacked Gwen. She was bitten once more and she stumbled backwards. She might have fallen if one woman hadn’t caught her. One of the women in the crowd held that dog at bay with one of the orcish short swords they’d taken as Gwen reloaded and fired once more.
The dog attacking the midwife bit down harder, severing the bone of the woman’s arm and dropping the appendage to the ground. Jazier cast his spell again and rushed the dog, but it jumped back out of his reach and looked warily at his hands, which crackled with electricity.
Tyari finished her prayer, and a massive, fluffy white temple dog appeared, glowing a slight blue in the smoky haze. “You haven’t forsaken me,” Tyari breathed, thanking her goddess as the dog howled and charged the orc woman, coming up behind her.
The dog facing Jazier bit him, but that was a fatal mistake. Lightning coursed through his body, and the connection the dog made caused it to discharge, electrocuting the beast. It also caused spasms which made the dog bite down harder, which didn’t surprise Jazier much. It was a factor of his curse, was all.
The temple dog bit the orc’s calf and righteous holy judgment surged through its bite, causing a massive amount of pain. The orc spun to face him involuntarily, giving Lucky Days the opportunity she needed. She finished it with a stabbing blow to the woman’s back, severing the base of her spine and causing her to crumple lifelessly to the ground. Wisely, the girl had kept her mouth shut this time as she dealt the finishing blow.
The dog facing Gwen tried to escape once its master fell, but there would be no escape on Lucky Days’ watch. The girl caught it not far down the road and ended its existence with a heavy swipe of Sakura-chan.
Tyari knelt, praying to her goddess, offering heartfelt thanks as healing energy washed over the crowd. The midwife’s arm remained severed and would not be healable, but she was no longer in life threatening danger. As she did so, the white dog bounded over to the crowd and nuzzled one of the children as several others petted it for a few seconds before it disappeared.
Mustering their strength, the group continued forward, with Jazier tending to Lucky Days’ clothes once more as they moved. The children were obviously scared, but the presence of the capable adults and proof of Iomedae watching over them helped. It was only a matter of time before they reached the relative safety of the southern barricade.
As they moved, they passed near the jail. The doors were open and it was strangely quiet within. “I’m going to check on Coach!” Lucky Days said, already running inside.
Inside the building, she found all of the cell doors thrown open. All of the cells were empty. All save one. In the far cell, she found the body of a dead half-orc. He had been stabbed dozens, or perhaps hundreds of times, and the wounds were covered in frost. Remembering the ice blades of the assassins that had attacked Jazier, she knew that there had to be more of them in the city.
She ran back outside. “Did you find anything?” Halgra asked.
“The cells are empty,” Lucky Days said, crestfallen. “And Kat-man is dead.”
“Who?” Halgra asked.
“I think she means Katrezra,” Gwen offered. She was starting to understand the strange girl a bit.
“Then…he was innocent after all,” Tyari said, a tear welling in her eye. “We will send someone to collect his body for proper rites once everyone is safe.”
“Keep going,” Brantos said. “I’ll get him now. He was never very heavy, and he does not deserve to lie there alone for one moment longer than necessary.”