Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 28 - Bonds in blood - Part One

 

My original intention had been to invite all tribes to my alliance, regardless of what they had to offer. Provided they would be willing to support the greater whole, there would be a place for them. But there was something about Izsa that reminded me of the Daemons early days. She was ambitious, but more than that, Izsa was clearly highly motivated on seeing those ambitions to fruition.

 

Ambition wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. So long as it served a greater purpose and wasn’t destructive in nature. The problem was that I didn’t know Izsa well enough to determine if her ambition would serve the greater good, or destroy everything I was trying to build.

 

There was another problem as well. Izsa had information I wanted. Not just the possibility of the Mountain Orc Slavers movements, but about half breeds as well. It was one of the things I had noticed about Izsa rather early into our discussion. She had the mixed features of a Serpent-Kin and Orc. Which made her the first example of interspecies breeding I had seen, and presented a unique opportunity in understanding more about it.

 

I had told Izsa I would take some time to consider her request, mostly so I could try and disentangle my personal interests from the decision. It backfired. The more time I had to think about it, the more worried I became about Lash and our potential children.

 

Izsa wasn’t the only one in her tribe either. Now that I knew what to look for, it was obvious that at least a full third of the Flowing Water tribe of nomads were half breeds. This was profoundly odd since the impression I had received from Chief Udwe was that each new generation that came of age would be paired off into other tribes. Yet there were no signs of and half breeds in the Stone Well tribe. How was that possible? Was Flowing Water the exception? And if so, why?

 

Jarwal was arranged to be bonded to Izsa’s daughter Ezha, who had seemed like she was at least somewhat mixed herself, although not nearly so much as her mother.

 

Were monster genetics so cut and dry that their child would be expected to be a full-blooded Desert Orc like Jarwal? Or was there something else I was missing?

 

I wasted most of the day working myself into knots over it. It was getting so bad that when the storehouse keeper Fadwa came calling, I was genuinely glad for the distraction.

 

As Fadwa and I entered the weavery, all work came to a halt and two of the younger women quickly ducked into a side room. Those who remained cleared the middle of the room and waited patiently for the two young women to return. When they returned a few moments later, I very nearly did a double-take.

 

Somehow, the weavers had managed to put together what looked like a perfectly serviceable saddle. A hell of an achievement given they only had Dhizi’s saddle and the makeshift one I had made for the Swiftstrider.

 

To solve the buckle problem, they just made a toggle system instead. Cinch the saddle straps to the correct tightness and then slot the toggle through the closest loop. Running my hand over the primary seat and the straps, I was genuinely surprised by the amount of friction they were generating compared to the rest of the silk.

 

“How did you do it?” I asked, thoroughly impressed by their achievement.

 

“Stalker hair,” one of the younger women beamed, “Weave into silk, make rough, won’t slip.”

 

“Well it’s damn impressive,” I praised the weavers, “Do you think you could make more?”

 

There was a general murmuring of assent from the group in reply.

 

“Will need more Stalker hair,” Fadwa warned, “No harvest last hunt.”

 

“You just had the hairs stowed away already?” That was a weird thing to do. Then against the hairs were quite bristly and could probably be used to make brushes.

 

Fadwa shook her head and pointed to the young woman who had spoken earlier, “Jana gathered, try blending alone. Show head weaver, make more.”

 

“So it’s Jana we have to thank for the saddles then?” I asked for confirmation.

 

Fadwa nodded.

 

Our conversation had not exactly been private, so everyone had heard what we had said.

 

“Jana, I want to reward you for your ingenuity. Is there something I can give you, or do for you?” I asked sincerely.

 

Jana seemed stunned, like a kangaroo staring into oncoming headlights.

 

“Sand Strider as bonding gift?” The young woman next to Jana volunteered, much to Jana’s apparent horror.

 

“Bonding gift?” I asked Fadwa for clarification.

 

“Bonded give gifts, show feelings, make family proud,” Fadwa explained with a thoughtful expression, “Seif? Dune Walker tribe?” She queried Jana and her friend.

 

The friend nodded vigorously and laughed good-naturedly.

 

“Seif, hunter, youngest son. Good match,” Fadwa informed me while nodding her head in approval.

 

As much as it pained me to lose one of the Razorbeaks, Jana’s innovative thinking was what made riding them possible. “Alright,” I agreed, “Jana, you can pick one of the Razorbeaks for your bonding gift. Just be aware that the grey one is already taken.” Once we had adequately trained riders, there would always be the chance for catching more, I reminded myself to better soften the blow. Besides, maybe the gift would make inviting the Dune Walker tribe into the alliance that much easier.

 

“Much thanks…” Jana mumbled shyly as her friend practically dragged her out the door along with the saddle.

 

“Generous,” Fadwa noted approvingly.

 

After leaving the weavery, I headed for the village centre to speak with Hessin, the Serpent-Kin Shaman that had volunteered to provide the ward for Stone Well.

 

As I had expected, Hessin was under two layers of guards. The first was those provided by Stone Well, a sort of honour guard despite their fierce intent to keep her safe. The second was composed of Serpent-Kin warriors with Classes brought from Sanctuary with the explicit purpose of ensuring Hessin’s safety.

 

Maintaining a Ward of sufficient size to encompass Stone Well required Hessin to concentrate, so I was expecting a protracted conversation in order to have my questions answered.

 

Hessin had been provided with every creature comfort the villagers could think of. Her room was festooned with silk rugs, pillows, jars of food, water and a pleasant smelling incense. Large silk fans had even been given to her personal guards to circulate air in the room if it grew too stuffy or the smell of incense became distracting or too intense.

 

Sitting down opposite Hessin, I settled in for a very long conversation. “Good evening Hessin, I have come to ask you some questions on your status and that of the Ward, if you are up to it.”

 

A minute passed by. Hessin’s eyelids flickered, “Over-lord?”

 

“Yes, it’s me, Tim,” I replied slowly, “How are you holding up?”

 

Another minute passed. “Ss-train, gro-wing. Presss-ure, buil-ding…” Hessin slurred, confirming my suspicions.

 

“How much longer can you hold it?” I asked, making sure not to speak too quickly and overwhelm her.

 

Two minutes passed. Hessin seemed aggrieved and shied her face away, “Three, day-ss. No, longer. Ss-orry...Not, ss-trong, e-nough...”

 

“You are doing fine Hessin,” I reassured her, careful not to speak too quickly, or raise my voice, “You have helped a great deal already. I had just wanted to know how long we had until I needed to claim the Settlement.”

 

Hessin slowly relaxed and smiled shyly, “Thank-you, Over-lord…”

 

After giving Hessin a gentle reassuring pat on the shoulder, I saw myself out. “Three days, at most,” I muttered thoughtfully. Waiting for more of the nomad tribes to arrive would ensure more warriors, but it would also likely increase the degree of difficulty as well. There was also the matter of choosing who to assign as Overseer. Promoting a local was pretty much out of the question. There were no guarantees that they would look past their own tribe’s best interests, let alone support those of the alliance.

 

Mors would be an ‘okay’ choice, but I didn’t want to strand him here forever, especially if the locals could be convinced to take the Pact Binder Class and summon the specialised Daemons as they needed them. Technically everything Mors was doing now could be accomplished by his own copy, it would just cost more manastones.

 

Hessin might be worth approaching, although I didn’t know if she would be willing to live on the fourth floor long term or not.

 

Bringing a list of the volunteers to the forefront of my mind, I carefully considered each of them while walking back to our borrowed home. One volunteer stood out in particular, but I would have to speak with them to determine if they would be willing to stay behind on the fourth floor as an Overseer.

 

Arriving home, I had to suppress a snort when I saw the state of the inside walls. Toofy and possibly Ril as well, had gone bananas and covered just about every square inch in scribbles. Showing them how to draw was beginning to feel like a mistake.

 

Going upstairs I waited on the terrace until Clarice, Nadine and Kestrel returned. Choosing the Overseer was an important decision, and with our limited time frame, I would feel more comfortable with their input.

 

Nadine was first to return home, but I gave her some time to unwind and freshen up first. She had been busy trying to source alternative materials for filling out emergency medical supply kits alongside the other Surgeons.

 

After getting changed, Nadine brought her other clothes outside to air out. “So what did you want to talk about?”

 

I stopped leaning against the wall and sat straighter, “The Overseer position,” I replied bluntly, “I need to promote someone before we try to officially claim the village and make it a Settlement.”

 

“Oh,” Nadine sat down and pressed her back to the wall as well, “Any candidates?” She asked curiously.

 

I nodded, “Osa and Nisi.”

 

“Nisi?” Nadine asked for confirmation, pronouncing the name with noticeable familiarity.

 

“The Surgeon, yeah,” I figured Nadine would be at least somewhat familiar with her after training together and then working closely together more recently.

 

“Isn’t Osa Nisi’s mate?” Nadine asked uncertainly.

 

I nodded, “According to the records,” I confirmed. “Just like Clarice, Osa unlocked multiple Basic combat Classes and managed to unlock the Advanced Knight Class. He was the first, but Clarice had been only one Class off before being promoted. With the improvements after Sanctuary was upgraded to a capital, he has made it possible for anyone else to pursue the same path too.”

 

Nadine smiled and hugged her knees, “I don’t think the minions really understand just how much time you spend thinking about them, you know? Some of them even seem convinced you are some sort of god.”

 

“Me? A god?” I snorted in derisive amusement, “Those are some pretty lax standards then.”

 

Nadine kept smiling and shrugged, “You do have this habit of showing up just when people need you.”

 

“Not always…” I muttered, suddenly losing my sense of humour.

 

Nadine cringed and turned her head to look out over the village wall instead, obviously not sure what to say. “I think...I think Osa would probably be a better fit,” Nadine insisted and tried injecting some levity into her tone, “Nisi is a good Hospice Surgeon, but she seems to prefer taking others lead rather than stepping up herself. Leaving Nisi in charge of Stone Well or the alliance on this floor would probably be too much for her right now.”

 

I nodded and made a mental note of her assessment.

 

“I don’t suppose you have considered leadership classes?” Nadine asked curiously, “That is, teaching leadership skills to those who want to take on extra responsibilities. I mean, not everyone who is outspoken is good leadership material, and some of the more timid people might just need a bit of a push or boost in confidence, you know?”

 

“Why would you think I would know how to teach leadership classes?” I asked incredulously.

 

Nadine seemed confused, “I just meant like passing on some of your tips.”

 

“Tips?” I couldn’t believe Nadine was being serious. What the hell did I know about leadership? That is besides the fact that it’s enormously stressful and that I am not cut out for it. There was a reason why I delegate as much responsibility to others as possible, as quickly as possible.

 

“Well, you always seem to have an idea of what to do,” Nadine pointed out, “And you don’t seem to hesitate when seizing opportunities like capturing all those Razorbeaks…”

 

I shook my head, “Being in charge for a long time...It changes the way you think, and not just for the better…” I stared up at the stars to try and clear my head, focusing less on depressing lines of thought. ”If you want to try and encourage leadership skills and qualities, then I would suggest focusing on team-building exercises when they are young. Teaching adults is probably better accomplished through a sort of officer training. Kestrel probably knows more about that sort of thing. The problem is though, if you rely on people volunteering, you are going to get egomaniacs and bastards as often as genuinely worthwhile candidates.”

 

“And that’s why you would prefer to pick people rather than asking for volunteers?” Nadine asked, although it was more of an observation.

 

“Pretty much,” I agreed.

 

We passed about a half hour not really talking about anything in particular, just waiting for Clarice and Kestrel to finish their riding practice.

 

“I’d pick Osa,” Clarice called out from the bedroom while getting changed, “Guy’s gotta be tenacious to unlock an Advanced Class.”

 

Nadine rolled her eyes, “She’s just saying that because he reminds her of herself.”

 

“Heard that!” Clarice barked in amusement.

 

“And?” Nadine called back.

 

“You’re not wrong,” Clarice laughed, “But Tim needs a real warrior in charge out here. There’s a fight coming and then there is the Guild to deal with after-” She came out onto the terrace in some clean clothes and took a seat, “-Peace doesn’t seem like an option here, not without making the Guild bleed first anyway,” Clarice insisted.

 

Kestrel came out a few moments later and was nodding her head in agreement, “If the Adventurers Guild is responsible for orchestrating the conflict between the Mountain Orcs and their desert kin, then you can expect a violent response when that revenue stream dries up,” she cringed a little at her poor choice in words. “Never underestimate what the Guilds will do for a profit,” Kestrel cautioned.

 

“So, to buy time, we need to prove that leaving Stone Well and the nomads alone is more profitable than their slave trade,” Nadine sighed and rubbed at her temples, “That isn’t going to be easy.”

 

“And we don’t want them making a bunch of money off us anyway,” Clarice hissed bitterly, “That would just bite us in the ass later. Stone Well might not be on the receiving end, but you can bet your ass feeding the Guild all that coin will hurt us on other floors and in the long term.”

 

Kestrel nodded in agreement, “Better to always consider the Guild as a greater whole when bargaining,” she cautioned, “Trading them iron is a good way to supply the knife that stabs you in the back.”

 

“Izsa, chief of the Flowing Water nomads, claims to have contacts in the Foothold that can relay the Slavers' movements. Do you think we can trust her?” I asked the group as a whole, making it clear I wanted everyone’s opinion on the matter.

 

“Well, it’s that or kick her out, right?” Clarice replied reductively, “From what I’ve seen, her people are having almost as rough a time of it as the villagers were. Every time I refused an offer on a Razorbeak, they would come back with a higher one. I think that could be your leverage.”

 

“Mounts for loyalty, you mean?” I clarified.

 

Clarice nodded.

 

“That’s a good point actually,” Nadine chimed in, “If the Flowing Water considers themselves traders, gaining access to mounts would not just increase their safety by deploying fast-moving scouts, but using them as beasts of burden would assumedly increase their potential profits by being able to carry more trade goods. In a sense, greed would keep them loyal. Especially considering the Guild seems to have no intention of trading even the cheapest mounts to them.”

 

“It’s Adventurer Guild policy,” Kestrel explained, “Selling food, water, commodities and even tools is fine. Trading force multipliers such as weapons, armour and beasts, are all prohibited. The fact that the Slavers have a contact for their boars is a little concerning, but should be taken as the exception, not the rule.”

 

“There is something else as well,” I decided I might as well bring it up since we were now on a tight deadline, “Hessin, our volunteer Shaman, believes she can maintain the Ward another three days at most before needing to recover. So we need to decide when during the three days to initiate the conquest to found Stone Well as a Settlement.”

 

“The hunters were not expecting the next nomad tribe for another week,” Clarice hedged, “Unlikely we will catch friendlies in the crossfire.”

 

Kestrel nodded, “If we wait the full three days, focused on training mounted riders and maybe unlocking a few Classes from both tribes warriors, I think that would give us our best shot.”

 

Nadine shrugged, “I honestly don’t know. Waiting for more warriors might be better, but the ones we already have would probably be tired out from enduring night attacks...Yeah, I guess taking the three days to prepare and starting the quest when Hessin’s Ward fails is our best bet.”

 

“I think so too,” I agreed, “Of course, promoting more Underlords will help those that manage to unlock combat Classes. After all, power levelling them during the fight could make a huge difference. Especially since a whole mess of Stone Well’s hunters already qualify for the Beast Trainer and Wrangler Advanced Classes after our skirmish with the Razorbeaks.”

 

Clarice grinned, “I forgot about that!” She crowed, “Maybe we might be able to tame some spiders of our own after all!”

 

Early the next morning, I approached Osa about the prospective promotion. Besides his immense surprise, as apparently the general assumption was only the Daemons would be allowed to occupy positions as Overseer, Osa seemed genuinely appreciative of his efforts being recognised. Of course, this was also under the condition that he complete his literacy training with Mors before the month was out. An illiterate Overseer would lack access to most of the functions and be more of a liability than a benefit to our alliance.

 

As Overseer, I would be issuing Osa with the quest to claim Stone Well as a Settlement. This meant that it would be his responsibility to make sure the warriors were up to the task. Having already unlocked a number of Basic combat Classes, teaching them was well within Osa’s ability. However, I also made sure to impress upon him the fact that anyone he was going to teach had to be recruited to the alliance, and be bound by the oaths of loyalty and secrecy.

 

Osa swore he would do his best and make sure to regularly consult with Mors until he was able to read Status’s on his own.

 

Impressed that he was not immediately going on a power trip, I gave Osa his promotion to Overseer and then explained how each of his new Class Abilities for the Serpent-Kin Commander worked.

 

[(Class Ability: Eminence): Monsters slain by your minions within range of a Settlement Totem generate bonus EXP that may be awarded through {Quests}. {Willpower} increases the range of Effect. Stored EXP:(0)]

 

[(Class Ability: Training Drills {Rank 0}): Minions have reduced unlock requirements for Basic Classes. Minion group members with {Basic Classes} may substitute {Training Drills: Rank 0} in place of {Class Abilities} of lower rank.]

 

[(Class Ability: Retribution {Rank 0}): Expend MP to return damage taken against an enemy within range. {Willpower} increases the range and damage of the effect.]

 

[(Class Ability: Serpent’s Strike {Rank 0}): Expend MP to apply the [Poisoned} Condition to attacks made with a {Light} or [Piercing} weapons for a moderate duration. {Agility} increases the duration of the effect.]

 

Heading off to join the hunters, I made sure to send those with the Wrangler and Beast Trainer Advanced Classes unlocked to Osa so he could recruit them and secure their oaths. I could have just done it myself, but establishing Osa’s position was important.

 

Unsurprisingly, the hunters from Flowing Water insisted on joining us, no doubt hoping that we would capture more Razorbeaks and be able to claim a few for their participation. Well, the joke was on them, because we were going to try and catch some Stalkers today.

 

Unlike the taming collars, a Beast Trainer only required their target to be a beast and be wounded enough to dominate it through force of will.

 

So the plan was still very similar to how we had been hunting them. Two rows of hunters with halberds would make the Spiders keep their distance, while the Beast Trainer would try and dominate the most wounded spider.

 

Clarice graciously decided to stay behind today, agreeing to teach a host of prospective riders later in exchange for more sleep. It seemed like a fair trade given her temperament. Clarice was not a teacher and didn’t pretend to be. She found teaching people, to be frustrating and made sure everyone knew about it. So letting her have a few extra hours of sleep was in everyone's best interests.

 

With Kestrel roving ahead on the Swiftstrider, it didn’t take us long to find our first Sand Stalker. Tiring the spider out, Kestrel bought us time to form the defensive formation and get our designated Beast Trainer in position.

 

Whatever primal instinct drove this spider, they did not seem to extend to its self-preservation. Upon spotting our formation, which took some doing considering most spiders rather ironically have terrible vision, it redoubled its flagging speed and charged.

 

Stone Well’s hunters were used to this sight by now and held firm, which was unfortunate for the spider as it attempted to barrel right through our formation, lost three eyes in the process and quite possible took some brain damage.

 

Still, I urged the Beast Trainer to activate his ability. At worst, this would be practice and we could use the blinded spider to grapple with other spiders later.

 

Watching the Beast Trainer channel her mana like I taught them all before leaving, I was surprised when she succeeded on her first try. The Sand Stalker was immediately rendered docile and raised another issue. We would need to feed spiders as we caught them in order to heal their wounds.

 

After allowing the Stone Well hunters the opportunity to celebrate their first successful capture, we went on the hunt again. The limiting factor on how many spiders we could capture, was determined by the hunter’s Presence stat. The taming Ability only allowed one Bonded Beast per five Presence. We could circumvent the ability after custom taming collars were made, but in the meantime, it basically equated to the seven Beast Trainers taming one spider each. Levelling up would increase their Presence and Willpower stats, but that was more long term.

 

The second Sand Stalker almost killed itself when performing a suicidal charge like the first. Rather than try to tame it, we killed it and took a short break while Kestrel continued scouting and the first spider fed on the second’s remains.

 

Similar to spiders from Earth, the Sand Stalker injected its prey with liquifying venom and drained the resulting fluids. Different from Earth spiders, the Sand Stalker had a functioning mouth full of sharp teeth that could rend flesh and dissolve it in its mouth. I was not a fan.

 

By the time Kestrel began leading the third spider to our position, the second was little more than a desiccated husk.

 

This process more or less repeated around twelve more times before we called it a day. Dragging two corpses and another three desiccated husks back to the village, it was disconcerting to watch the parade of giant spiders diligently scuttling behind us.

 

The guards on duty, who had known what we had left to do, seemed just as nervous about allowing the spiders in as I did. However, a few harsh words from some of the hunters was enough to see the gates open without my involvement. Not that the spiders needed to go through the gate in the first place.

 

As expected, the Flowing Water hunters quickly began making a fuss over ‘dividing the spoils’. While they had helped, somewhat, I was glad when the Stone Well hunters immediately shut them down, flat out refusing to hand over any Stalkers or Razorbeaks until the Flowing Water tribe officially joined the alliance and pulled their own weight in the hunt.

 

It wasn’t surprising in the least when Izsa sought me out a little later. As I expected, she wasn’t mad and was likely using the incident as an excuse to have her tribe formally accepted into the alliance.

 

“Have you made your decision?” Chief Izsa asked, cutting straight to the chase.

 

“Ï have,” I replied somewhat stiffly. “On the provision that you and your people swear oaths of loyalty and secrecy to my designated Overseer, and that you do not cause harm to the alliance or its people, then am willing to accept your entry to the alliance.”

 

Izsa bridled again at the mention of the oaths, but considering she was the first leader not beholden to me for her and her people's survival, it was somewhat understandable she would have reservations about soul binding oaths. “I agree to these terms,” she placed her hand over her heart and bowed her head slightly. “Once they are oath sworn, my warriors and hunters will be treated as equals?” Izsa asked, “Allowed to learn these Classes?” Her eyes flashed avariciously, broadcasting her greed so brightly a blind man would see it.

 

“Yes, and more besides,” I agreed, deciding that appealing to Izsa’s greed and ambition may actually make her easier to control rather than less. “Leadership titles empower those promoted to the highest tier of Classes. Prove your loyalty and ability, and you will qualify for promotion. Fail or harm the alliance in any way, and it will be revoked. Understand?”

 

Izsa was visibly stunned, a flurry of thoughts taking place behind her wide eyes.

 

“Are you literate?” I asked, somewhat condescendingly, “Able to read the humans language?”

 

Izsa slowly nodded.

 

“Invite,” I held out my arm.

 

Izsa nervously extended her own and clasped my forearm, “Accept.”

 

I relaxed and revealed my entire Status.

 

Izsa’s eyes slowly panned downwards, alternating from side to side before shifting downward again. As she continued reading, Izsa’a eyes grew wider and wider in shock and disbelief. Reaching my list of qualified classes, Izsa’s eyes grew wider still. “I am ready to swear the oaths,” she croaked, shaking her head and cradling her face in her hands.

 

After accepting Izsa’s oaths, I invited her into the alliance. With her loyalties secured, for the time being at least, I pressed Izsa on how she would receive information from her Guild contacts. In hindsight, I really should have guessed it when she admitted to being literate. Izsa had a communication device that was almost identical to Kestrel’s, as well as the codebook to go with it and a durable grid marked map of the fourth floor bearing notable landmarks.

 

Izsa explained that the Slavers would always stop in at the Guild fortress when headed into the deeper southern regions. In exchange for providing silk goods ‘under the table’ to her contacts, they would notify her which direction the Slavers were headed when leaving into the southern regions. Most of the time, the warning in and of itself was enough to avoid conflict, allowing the tribe to bunker down until the Slaver party was reported to have returned to the Guild fortress and headed north again.

 

It was a defensive strategy only the Flowing Water tribe could accomplish, as they were the only ones, besides the slavers, who traded directly with the humans. They were the go-between for every other tribe, trading water for the tribes collective silk goods and accepting water from the Guild in trade in turn.

 

It was pretty obvious that the Guild would want to maintain the status quo. Paying water for silk? It was basically like paying nothing at all. Similarly, I could only assume the local Guild manager and his toadies were trading water for the captured Variant slaves, then muddling some paperwork to claim reward payments for themselves.

 

Well, the Guild and the Slavers were going to get a very rude awakening in the coming weeks, I would make sure of it.

 

On the subject of her mixed parentage, Izsa had been genuinely surprised by my interest. Given monsters inspecies preferences, half breeds are normally quite rare. Flowing Water was an exception that was founded in necessity. On the verge of desolation after feuding with a now extinct Mountain Orc tribe, Flowing Water’s ancestors were taken in by a Serpent-Kin tribe that used to live on the old riverways. Politics was the primary motivator for the first generation of hybrids. The young and unbonded were paired together to stave off internal division, and in time they had children which would be bonded to others and so on.

 

So far as Izsa understood it, relying heavily on anecdotal evidence she had been able to confirm with her own eyes, the higher evolved partner was the one whose traits would be dominant, while the other would be expressed to a much lesser degree. In terms of appearance, Izsa described herself dominant representation of Serpent-Kin with a lesser representation of Desert Orc. Which was another subject regarding inherited genetics. Children conceived in particular environments had a small chance of undergoing environmental evolution. For example, an Orc baby could become a Desert or Deep Orc depending on the environment of its conception. It was one of the primary reasons the surviving tribes were still around.

 

While the drought had officially existed for close to three years, the water shortages had begun long before that. Without environmental evolutions in the up and coming generations, the collective strain of the drought would have wiped the tribes out long ago.

 

Of course, one of the most interesting things about hybrid bloodlines was the alternate combinations of Racial Abilities and stats. As Izsa put it, bluntly, Orcs are as stupid as they are strong, while Serpent-Kin are as clever and agile as they are frail. Combining the two made something that was greater than the sum of its parts. The only downside was the element of randomness with which traits were chosen for dominance. Izsa’s previous mate had been approximately two-thirds Serpent-kin, like her, but their daughter had been born very nearly their opposite.

 

To my immense relief, so far as Izsa knew, there had been no known instances of hybrid eggs failing to hatch, assuming they were provided with enough manastones.

 

With my immediate curiosity sated, I instructed Izsa to send her people to Osa in an orderly fashion so he could receive their oaths and invite them into the alliance. There were only around a hundred people in her tribe, so was going to withhold her promotion to Underlord until after the Settlement was founded and there were three ‘free’ Underlord positions to hand out. In the meantime, I was thinking of having Osa choose his first Underlord from amongst the warriors of Stone Well and Flowing Water. After all, the Leadership Classes were designed for combat, and Osa would need a capable second in command.

 

Stopping by briefly to inform Osa of what had happened, and my expectations for him to choose and groom a second in command, I then headed to the weavery to see if they could make saddles for giant spiders…

 

It took a great deal of persuading and no small amount of promises to convince the weavers to approach the tamed Sand Stalkers currently being held by the reclamation pits. Even then, they refused to approach without an armed escort, in spite of the fact that each spider’s tamer was standing beside or sitting on top of their prospective mount.

 

While the Sand Stalkers low endurance made them pretty piss poor mounts for long-distance travel or intense skirmishing, they were otherwise perfect for short distance ambushes and maneuvering through urban or rocky terrain. They could even be used for domestic production silk, which the Desert Orcs used for pretty much everything they could get away with. Feeding a large number might prove difficult, but seven or so would be quite manageable under the circumstances. Besides, their webs would be incredibly valuable in the fighting that was soon to come.

 

Having overcome the worst of their fears, the weavers took measurements, of both riders and mounts, before retreating back to their weavery.

 

Honestly, I couldn’t blame them for being so frightened. The fact that these giant spiders had been assaulting and infiltrating their village for years, and killed who knows how many people...It was enough to give anyone a healthy fear of the things.

 

As I understood it, the hunters had been forced to overcome their own fear as part of their job. If you couldn’t fight back your fear and charge the spider, then it would charge you.

 

Having something of an epiphany, I tasked two of the soon to be ‘spider riders’ to see if they could have the giant spiders weave a thick shade-cloth-like web bridging the wall and the closest buildings, covering the reclamation pits and the spiders’ current home. If it worked, then the spiders would be kept cooler during the day and require fewer fluids to cool off. Digging them a burrow would probably be a better long term solution, but for now, this would be the best we could do.

 

Somewhat ironically, I slept better than I had in days. I could only think of crediting the near-immediate presence of the giant car-sized spiders keeping my mind off other things. Walking outside to see whether the hunters had followed through with my instructions, I was somewhat saddened by how the shade-cloth web appeared to be in tatters.

 

Strangely enough, the hunters were rather excited and quite happy in comparison.

 

Moving in for a closer look, I could see that the spiders themselves were responsible for tearing apart the web. They were eating it, using their pedipalps to draw large chunks into their mouths. As for why, it quickly became obvious, and I felt stupid for not having thought of it sooner. The webs were covered in morning dew.

 

The villagers had small scale dew catchers that they set out each night to collect small amounts of water to subsidise their reliance on the failing well and filtered wastewater. However, they had nothing on the scale the spiders had formed the previous evening, although there was admittedly little to show for it now.

 

With the successful Beast Trainers having described their experiences with those still yet to prove themselves, it was decided to leave the former behind and give them a chance to practice riding their mounts with the surprisingly simple and effective saddles the weavers had worked on overnight. While there were not enough to go around, they could share and get some much-needed experience before tomorrow evening.

 

In addition to the spider saddles, the weavers managed to make another pair of Razorbeak saddles, allowing two more hunters to get some practice as scouts for the main hunting party.

 

Hoping to find more Razorbeaks, we loaded the wagon with the remaining taming supplies. I took the opportunity to borrow a robe and headscarf from the storehouse as well before we set off into the morning twilight. However, just as we were leaving, A Flowing Water warriors came running after us with important news.

 

A large group of Slavers was headed southeast out of the Foothold, which meant we could avoid them, or potentially set a trap. Given the options, and that the Slavers were most likely hunting for one of the nomad tribes headed for Stone Well, it wasn’t difficult to convince the hunting party that dealing with the potential threat was more important.

 

Having so many experienced scouts roving around the main body of hunters provided an unfamiliar feeling of security to the otherwise dangerous landscape. However, seven hours into our hunt, with two tamed Sand Stalkers and the desiccated husk of a third to show for our efforts, one of the Stone Well scouts came racing back to the group with an obviously urgent report. She had spotted the Slavers and confirmed that they were still headed southeast.

 

According to the scout’s report, the Slavers had three large caged wagons covered in rough cloth, and a fourth open bed wagon with ten Mountain Orc Slavers in it. Even though the scout couldn’t confirm it, it would be safe to assume that the cages probably had similar amounts of manpower inside them as well, bringing the enemies total force to about forty or so combatants.

 

Not willing to give them anything resembling a fair fight, I tasked the scouts with locating a potential ambush site ahead of the Slavers. With Razorbeak mounts, the scouts quickly disappeared into the distance, leaving the rest of us to slog after them at a steady march.

 

The scouts returned within a half-hour and began leading us to a rocky valley. It was already occupied by a pair of Sand Stalkers, but we managed to tame one of them and kill the other with enough time to better scout out the immediate surroundings.

 

The valley looked like it could have once been a riverbed. The ground was littered with smooth rocks of all sizes and even a few small twigs that looked like petrified fish bones. The stone shelves on either side were most likely the result of the erosion boring and shaping the larger rocks in the path of the river. The curving path through the dead river provided a near-limitless number of potential ambush sites, both above and below, and I was going to use them to make this dead river the Slavers grave.

 

*****

 

Gronn hated the heat of the lowlands outside of their mountain home. If it weren’t for Gargant’s direct command to increase slave sales to the humans, Gronn would have taken his sweet time about leaving the mountain. But since Gronn liked his head remaining attached to his neck, he left the mountain fortress with his subordinates and their assigned soulless shock troops.

 

Like the rest of the tribe, Gronn despised the soulless. He made a point of getting as many of them killed on his return trips to the mountain as he could get away with without compromising his own safety and Gargant’s tribute. Gronn wasn’t the only one either. It was a common secret that the Slaver teams would pit their soulless against one another for entertainment and wagers of their collected tribute.

 

*Baroooo! Baroooooooo! Baroooo!*

 

The horn call pulled Gronn from his musings and into a state of alert readiness, prey had been spotted.

 

Scanning the horizon, Gronn followed the excited pointing of their trackers and spotted the telltale dust cloud and small humanoid figures in the distance. “CHASE THEM!” Gronn roared, cracking his whip against the backs of his boars to spur them to greater speeds.

 

*Crack, Snap, Snap, Crack*

 

“Chase them!” Echoed Gronn’s subordinates.

 

*Baroooo!*

 

The tracker blew his horn again jumping onto the side of a passing wagon's cage and then climbing to its top for a better view. “Gronn! Whole hunting team!” The tracker called out excitedly, “Flowing Water!” He jeered with contemptuous joy.

 

Gronn grinned. Flowing Water was the weakest of the remaining tribes, snatching up their entire hunting team would be easy and the humans would pay just as much for them as the Fire Dancers or Crag Fists. Better still, the presence of the Flowing Water hunters meant that their main camp would be nearby. Once Gronn Enslaved the hunters, it would be all too easy to have them betray their camp's location, allowing Gronn to capture even more slaves!

 

“Gah!” Gronn now regretted not bringing his entire team on this expedition. Another four or five wagons and he could have made off with the entire tribe! Gronn could always have the extras bound and pulled along behind the wagons, but past experience had taught him it was far more economical to just let the extras go and raid them again later. Slaves tied to the back of wagons tended to die or escape far too often to make it worth the risks.

 

As the chase wore on, the Flowing River hunters began to slow. However, after spotting a rocky outcropping nearby, they temporarily regained speed and desperately sprinted for what they must have hoped would be their salvation.

 

Gronn couldn’t help but laugh. After chasing them for the past twenty minutes, he knew for a fact that the Flowing River were more than likely on their last legs and that they would probably collapse the moment they found a cave to hide in. If anything, they were doing Gronn a favour right now. He just hoped there weren’t any Stalkers too close by. Gronn would hate to lose out on such a plentiful bounty of tribute when he was so close to having it all.

 

Drawing closer to the fleeing hunters with every passing second, Gronn pulled hard on the reins and brought his wagon to a stop. The path ahead was littered with rocks that could break his boar's legs if he wasn’t careful, or worse, the sled runners on the bottom of his wagon.

 

Gronn’s subordinates did the same and eagerly looked to him for orders.

 

“MEAT BAGS! OUT NOW!” Gronn roared, the command echoed seconds later by his subordinates.

 

The lead tracker jumped off the wagon, drawing his horn and cudgel as he took up position by Gronn’s side.

 

The soulless poured out of the caged wagons and formed up in front of Gronn.

 

“FOLLOW TRACKER!” Gronn grabbed the tracker’s shoulder and shook him for good measure. Soulless were incredibly stupid and often needed things explained in minute detail to avoid painfully obvious mistakes and misunderstandings. Sometimes it felt like they were misinterpreting orders on purpose just to piss him off. “CAPTURE ENEMIES! OBEY TRACKER! FOLLOW TRACKER!” Gronn roared commandingly and then jerked his head at the tracker to signal he should get a move on.

 

The tracker wasted no time in joining the chase, pumping his legs hard, blowing his horn as the small tide of soulless charged along behind him.

 

As the minutes began to tick by, Gronn took shelter from the heat in the shade cast by his wagon.

 

*BOOM!*

 

A rolling thunderclap echoed down the rocky channel, causing a cloud of dirt and debris to pelt into Gronn’s face, forcing him to cover his face with his arm.

 

Lowering his arm again, Gronn tried to think of what could have happened. As best he could figure, there must have been a rockslide further down the pass.

 

Seeing a cascade of black panels appearing in front of his eyes, but unable to read their contents, Gronn felt like his assessment had been correct. All he could do now was hope that the merchandise and his tracker had gotten off lightly.

 

“Jakel!” Gronn called out to his most junior subordinate. There was a pecking order to be observed when it came to danger work, and Gronn intended to send Jakel out to check on the tracker.

 

When Jakel failed to reply, Gronn did his best to suppress his smile. Breaking in unruly subordinates was one of his favourite indulgences back on the mountain. Stalking over to Jakel’s assigned wagon, Gronn was confused when he found no sign of him. “Jakel?” Gronn called out again, “Frag? Mukka?” he began dashing around the wagons now, frantically pulling aside the sheets to check the insides of the cages.

 

Feeling the hairs on the back of his neck beginning to tingle, Gronn felt like someone, or something, was watching him. Throat suddenly dry, Gronn tightened his grip on the whip in his right hand and reached down with his left hand for the water skin on his hip. Pure chance revealed the slight shift in the shadows cast by the sheet of the wagon.

 

Ducking and rolling on pure instinct, Gronn was forced to let go of his water skin as he rolled hard over the stone covered ground.

 

Glancing back to where he had just been standing, Gronn came face to fangs with a Sand Stalker.

 

Cursing his luck, Gronn pulled the horn from his waist and pressed it to his lips. Upon hearing it, all soulless under his command were required to return to his position immediately or slowly die.

 

*Baroo-ttt*

 

Something hard slammed Gronn in the back, driving the air from his lungs and slamming him to the ground.

 

*Hiss*

 

The telltale hiss of a second Sand Stalker from behind Gronn made it obvious what had knocked him down. Trying to pull himself out from beneath the Stalker’s leg pinned in the small of his back, Gronn braced himself for the sharp pain of its fangs piercing his flesh.

 

Only it didn’t come. With the fleeting hope that the Stalkers were engaging in a territorial dispute, Gronn dared to look up and was surprised to see two Desert Orcs and a human staring down at him.

 

“You have a choice,” The human explained casually, her southern dialect understandable but grating on Gronn’s ears, “You surrender, let go of your weapons, get tied up and come with us peacefully, or these two boys beat the shit out of you, inject some Stalker venom into your system to make it really hurt, then we take you anyway.” The human knelt down next to him and gave Gronn an expectant look, “So? What’s it going to be?”

 

Gronn scowled and considered how he could best play for time. “Gargant kill you,” he growled threateningly, knowing the fearsome reputation of his chieftain gave even the humans inside the fortress cause for fear.

 

The woman shook her head and laughed, “Hard way it is,” She stood up and turned her back on him, “Just remember, we want him alive. So if you are going to cut something off, make damn sure to cut off the blood supply first.”

 

Gronn felt his insides turn to water. This human was crazy! Only the insane wouldn’t fear Gargant!

 

The pair of Desert Orcs grinned maliciously as one brought out silk rope and the other drew a pair of Stalker knives.

 

“No…” Gronn breathed in horror. What had he ever done to deserve such a fate as this?!