Beers and Beards-Chapter 72Book 4, : From the Frying Pan to the Fire
Sunrise on the 6th day of the 6th Month of the year 8003 found Brightstar and myself at the edge of the refugee camps in the western hills. The sun peeked up just in time to shower the low-lying hills in a pastel palette of oranges and pinks. The smoke of thousands of camp fires rose above clusters of yurts and caravans lending the crisp air a tangy aftertaste. Each camp was denoted by a banner that indicated the tribe, and I was able to make out at least a hundred different flags from our vantage point. And there were likely more behind the low-lying knolls. The smattered sounds of morning echoed through the hills, as people and animals woke from what could be their last slumber as free folk.
Horses swarmed the outer edges of the camp, along with large flocks of sheep and goats and what looked like.. Llamas? Or something? Some early risers were out milking the goats or tending to the chickens.
“So many people,” Balin whispered.
“It’s all the tribes of the Central Plains.” Aishablue said with a note of reverence. “I don’t think they’ve ever all gathered in one place like this before.”
I tried to count, but rapidly gave up. “There’s gotta be tens of thousands of people…”
Starshine pointed off to a nearby hillock. “I see horses. We’re about to have company.”
“It’s fine. Isen knows we’re coming.” I waved nervously at the approaching group, a grim company of armored and spear-carrying warriors who did not look like they were expecting us.
It went about as well as could be expected. They were understandably twitchy, with the Allied armies a day’s march away, and wanted to make absolutely sure that we weren’t spies, disguised, or worse. After a solid half hour of questioning we were finally saved by a breathless runner with news that we were expected. It was well past sunrise and into mid-morning when we were finally led by a tired looking young beastfolk in ragged armor down into the vale.
The camps were… what you’d expect from such a large group of refugees. Lots of haggard looking adults and boisterous children, who seemed oblivious to the approaching danger. It reminded me of the camp we’d seen outside of Kinshasa so long ago, writ large.
As we walked through the camp, I was struck by how the air was not one of desperation, but of nervous and expectant energy. Warriors sharpened their weapons and the elderly shepherded children about with the busy air of one preparing for any other day. I was even recognized by some people from my time at the embassy, and they shouted out their thanks and greetings. I waved back with a mixture of embarrassment and happiness that I’d been able to help inject a bit of hope into what could’ve been a moment of total despair.
Watching the children playing tag while their worried mothers prepared food over the fire reaffirmed my commitment to the plainsfolk. No matter if the war ahead was won or lost, at least I’d stood on the right side.
Our guide dropped us off at our destination with a tired nod and then ran back off to rejoin his patrol. Mystic Isen’s command tent was in the center of the camp, an enormous red affair at least twenty meters across, with no other identifying markings. It was well lit inside, with the faint smokey smell of Isen’s favourite pipe weed. There were a couple dozen other faces in the tent that I didn’t recognize. They all wore white robes, with shining blue jewelry that jingled as they walked around looking at maps and moving pieces around on a large map on a central table. Alba was there too, similarly bedecked in white and blue.
A closer examination of the blue gems revealed them to be shaped sapphire, and I realized with a jolt that those had to be the [Shamans]!
“Peyter,” Isen greeted me with bags under his eyes. “You dohn’t need to be here. You have already done enough.”
I shook my head. “I’m not supposed to be here according to the Dukes. But I yelled a lot in our last conversation and they said I’m allowed to stay, but I need to leave if things get hairy and I need to stay incognito. So no summoning recognizable monsters or using flashy Abilities. I can still stand in the back with the mages and throw fire though.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
I didn’t mention that I had some other aces up my sleeve, and I didn’t really care if I caused an incident by summoning a boss monster onto the nose of some stuck-up noble. The boss would respawn, and the Dukes could deal with any diplomatic fallout. With [Dungeonwalk] and [Deific Intervention] I would be fine no matter what.
“Aye,” Balin thumped his breastplate, which was a set of good steel rather than his trademark [Golden Armour]. “We’ll keep him and tha’ rest of tha’ backline safe. Long as we can. We’re not gonna let ‘em take our friends without a fight!”
The rest of team Brightstar agreed with fierce looks, though Flowerpott looked stricken without his glass golems to keep him safe.
Isen clapped me on the back. “We welcome every fighter we can. Especially since the Council has continued to refuse our pleas for aid.”
Alba had noticed our entry, and approached. “Jerks,” she growled. “But they’ll station their army to our flank, to act as an anvil for the West. It’s worse than not helping!”
Isen shrugged. “They have not stopped us from entering the city. If we so chose, we could throw down our belongings, abandon our pasts, and walk away as free beasts.”
“Never!” Alba swore. “We will fight here to the last. For the Cloven hoof, for the tribes, and the fields of glory!”
Several of the other [Shamans] took up the cry as well, but most were still too deep into their work to pay attention to us.
Isen looked demure, as he asked, “All the same. Lord Roughtuff, if I may ask. If it looks like we will be overrun, would you be willing to provide entrance to your Cascadia for those that wish it?”
“Of course.” I answered immediately. Then paused. “Erm, but they might not be able ta come out again fer a while.” And I’d probably get in shit from Grandia for moving their door and trapping their people inside. At least until I could get it back to the Guild arena.
Ah well, screw’em. They should’ve helped!
“Ouhr people truly owe you a debt we can never repay,” Isen said, bending his knees.
“Eh, I didn’t really do much. It was mostly Barck, really. Heck, I didn’t even really try anything you hadn’t already tried yourself.”
“And yet not everyone would do it.”
“Shucks. So where do you want to put me?”
“This is Shaman Conrad,” Isen said, grabbing an off-yellow furred elderly looking beastfolk from the crowd. He wore the white and blue of a [Shaman], and had a cracked left horn.
“Mystic Isen,” the beastfolk nodded, “and you must be Lord Roughtuff and his companions.” He bent his knees. “Words cannot express my gratitude. I had despaired of ever becoming a [Shaman], and I am proud that I was able to become one before the end.”
“Lord Roughtuff is a mage, and will be assigned to your squadron, along with his people to act as guards.”
Conrad look surprised, his bushy eyebrows raising and making him look like a curious golden retriever. “Truly? You ahre indeed a friend to the tribes! Yes, come. I will introduce you to the rest of the squadron. What are you skilled in?”
“I know a basic fireball, so not much, and Aishablue has some light magic.”
“Every bit helps. Come, come.”
Conrad led us to a tent a ways away from Isen’s, and introduced me to a blur of faces. We were the third mage brigade, and would be placed within the main camp to protect the non-combatants from any flanking assaults.
It was unlikely that anything would happen, since, well, the enemy didn’t actually want to kill everyone. A thought that was less comforting the more I thought about it.
*Bing!*
New Quest: A Beastly Battle
Help the beastfolk win the war!
Battles Won: 0/1
Rewards: [Karmic Reversal]
Do you accept?
Yes / No
The quest was in a new font that I’d never seen before. Aaron, probably? He was the God most mixed in with all this.
My gaze firmed and my thoughts cleared. I’d originally come just to help evacuate people and provide a little help, but if it came to it? Y’know what? Sure. In for a penny, in for a pound.
I hit yes.
