Ogre Tyrant

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 34 – An evolving situation – Part Two

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 34 - An evolving situation - Part Two

Two weeks had passed since I first started taking the Exp potions to progress my evolution. The Asrusian military had initiated and successfully orchestrated Raids on the second and first floor with the help of Garn and the artefact spear Shiverfang, flooding those floors with refugees and hastily fortified Settlements. The Asrusians had also brokered a treaty with the Desert Orcs of Stone Well and were in the process of establishing Settlements on the fourth floor in cooperation with Stone Well’s warriors.

Rather than the villages and small towns established on the third floor, the Asrusians now seemed to be making a compromise, attempting to hastily establish the equivalent of sprawling cities on the first and second floor. At least that is what the Settlement population index was indicating. There were apparently far more people than the Asrusian government could realistically hope to accommodate under the previous low-density town model.

This was in part because I stopped my progression through the Labyrinth. However, Klive had made a request in person all but begging to lend Garn and Shiverfang to allow for the conquest of the fifth-floor Foothold. True to their word thus far, Garn had been kept far from danger, so I reluctantly agreed on the condition that Klive would personally serve as guarantor and that all of the guild’s fifth-floor assets serve as payment.

With no guaranteed staging area, and no Shamans of their own, Klive also made some trades to secure a number of powerful Wards. To avoid alerting the Guilds of what they were up to, the Asrusian military only sent enough operatives directly into the Foothold through the primary portal to ensure acts of sabotage once the raid timer was ready. The remaining forces would wait in a concealed location while specially formed teams of scouts picked off any Adventurers or Mercenaries that might uncover the soldiers camp. When the raid timer runs down, the soldiers would move on the Foothold en masse while the saboteurs distracted or harried the defenders. An ultimatum would be given, terms negotiated, and provided the defenders weren't suicidal, the Foothold would be taken without any deaths.

So many Asrusian refugees had been recruited that I earned the final title of Tyrant and unlocked the ability to establish Factions that could be independently ruled under my overarching banner. Surprisingly, the Asrusians had made no such request despite Kestrel informing them of the possibility. However, I made a point of promoting Klive to be faction head of the Asrusian Settlements within the swamp, ensuring that he would be capable of rejecting any orders made by the Regent or other troublemakers in the future.

Klive’s promotion to Overlord and Faction Leader, allowed him to assign Port Gidian as his Capital, conferring additional benefits on its residents. It also allowed Klive to tax Exp from the Settlements to award through quests. Once this fact became known, Kestrel was quick to make a request that the Regent be made a Faction Leader as well so they could assign a Capital to better train their soldiers.

Having expected it from the beginning, I made the regent a Faction leader and put those Asrusians not under Klive already, into his Faction. Within minutes the Regent’s Faction was renamed the Kingdom of Asrus and the Settlement of Asrus Peak on the first floor was nominated as its Capital.

The loss of Exp to the Faction Capitals didn’t bother me. Sanctuary was now the Tyrant’s Capital and I could take as much Exp from any Settlement, Capital or Faction that I wanted to. Unfortunately, I could only assign it to another Eminence pool and not take the Exp for myself

Every Settlement and Capital under my overarching authority as Tyrant now benefitted from my Iron Gut Racial Ability in addition to the Racial Abilities chosen by their respective Overseers and Overlords.

Although technically left without a Capital, for now, I made sure to promote Wraithe to Overlord and assign her a Faction to ensure she would have complete autonomy from outside control. Furthermore, I gave her permission to recruit anyone she deemed worthy to assist her, again as a means to ensure Wraithe and her staff would be able to make necessary but unpopular medical decisions should the need arise.

After promoting Wraithe it was only natural to promote Grick and establish Sanctuary under its own Faction. Technically a form of demotion, I shifted Stone Well into the Sanctuary Faction as well. Gric seemed happy enough now that he had an Overseer beneath his authority.

The streams of death notifications each time the Asrusian soldiers outside of the Labyrinth engaged in a battle was wearing on me. With no small amount of reluctance, I disabled death notifications from the Kingdom of Asrus and the Asrus Covenant Factions. Klive’s choice in naming his Factions was initially something of a surprise, but it made sense when considering the role he was expected to play between his Species and Sanctuary.

Close to two straight weeks of violent competition in Sanctuary’s arena was dangerously close to depleting the Eminence Exp pool. Partially due to the imminent arrival of the Mothers Moon, and the Orcs desire to prove themselves and establish a hierarchy of combat prowess. The primary cause was my own desire to rapidly increase my levels while also progressing my evolution.

The more I progressed my evolution, the greater the determined power difference between myself and the competitors, meant the more Exp those competitors received. Now that I was on the brink of tier sixteen, my Orc competitors were earning more Exp being bludgeoned unconscious than I was receiving for doing it. The upside was that the Orcs brave enough to risk broken bones and concussions had managed to raise their Basic and Advanced Classes to levels that made them incredibly difficult to deal with. Meanwhile, those with Lordship titles and master tier Classes were roughly progressing at the same rate as myself and had plateaued at roughly level forty.

Clarice and Lash had both been competing against a league of equally driven and enthusiastic Orc warriors and hunters. Considering her natural disadvantages in both Racial Abilities and that her Class Abilities heavily involved a Beast Companion she was not allowed to use, Clarice did a spectacular job consistently eking out third place in the rankings. This was even more impressive considering Lash held the first position.

Second place was held by a Mountain Orc Warden named Skye who was something of a mix between a rival and Lash’s protege. Curiously, Skye was one of the Mountain Orc’s who had not only chosen a mate outside her general species, but for a Human soldier, a young Lieutenant named Jeff.

Jeff had valiantly attempted competing as well but didn’t rank very highly. It didn’t seem to bother Skye all that much, so it wasn’t surprising when Jeff bowed out of further competitions.

Jeff and Clarice were not the only humans who made an effort to compete but most limited themselves to a single competition per day. Somewhat ironically, the injuries inflicted in the lower ranks were far worse than those in the higher ranks of the competition. This was due to the relatively low defensive statistics and absence of powerful Class and Racial Abilities to mitigate damage. Low rankers often eliminated one another with a small number of decisive blows. High rankers, with the exception of myself, engaged in gruelling battles of attrition wearing down both HP and MP before finally securing a win. Combined with the fact that the soldiers were all posted to Sanctuary for specific duties, it meant the soldiers could only compete in their downtime which also had to include enough time to make a full recovery.

With the Eminence Exp in dire need of replenishment, I was sorely tempted to ‘appropriate’ Exp from the Asrusians Factions. However, I restrained myself and decided to be more proactive instead. One of the reasons so many of the Orcs had been competing so fiercely to rank high in the past couple of weeks of competition was due to the Evolution Elixirs being awarded to the ten highest-ranking competitors of each sex. While this did admittedly play a part in keeping the top ten positions somewhat fixed, it had also been increasing the Exp earned by lower-ranked rivals.

With new apothecaries and their apprentices arriving in Sanctuary each day, the number of Apprentice Alchemists and Alchemists was beginning to reach critical mass relative to the possible production of the Evolution Elixir. Even with waggons loaded with barrels of Elixir being exported back to the Asrusian’s, it still left an ever-growing supply in Sanctuary. The overwhelming majority of the supply was tier-three only and had very little benefit for myself unless consumed in prolific quantities. However, the lure of the Elixirs and their potency served as a fantastic motivator and reward.

As Tyrant, I now had an unprecedented degree of control over the quest system, including functions that were previously unavailable. One such function was the ability to award physical rewards as part of the quest. Successfully completing such a quest would have the objects in question teleported to the participant’s location, or even their extradimensional space if they had one.

It was this quest feature that I was intending to exploit right now. Broadcasting the quest to all of my subordinates, the quest would track Exp earned by each individual and tax ten Exp of every hundred. That taxed amount would be determined as that individual's score while the Exp itself was sent to Sanctuary. The twenty-five participants with the top scores would each receive a tier 3 Exp Elixir, while the first, second and third-ranked participants would receive an additional Exp Elixir each. The quest would repeat daily and have bonus rewards determined from weekly results. Announced today, it would not begin until tomorrow, ensuring that those who were not literate had a decent amount of time to learn of the event before it would begin.

As Tyrant, technically EVERYTHING within the boundaries of every Settlement and Capital was deemed to be my property. This meant I had to be somewhat pedantic regarding where the reward could be taken from. I also then had to organise for someone to make sure that sufficient Elixirs would be stored in that location at all times. Both were easy enough to solve, but it was something I would need to remember in order to avoid making more problems.

With no Exp remaining to support the evening competitions, I opted for a quiet evening with Lash. Despite evolving a few times herself, my own evolutions had left me almost a couple of feet taller, not that Lash seemed to mind.

Settling on a good spot to watch the sunset, I picked us some fruit from the nearby orchard for our dinner. A large round citrus fruit of Qreet’s own devising had become a Sanctuary favourite. It tasted like an orange crossed with a peach. Lacking the peel of the former and the stone of the latter, it wasn’t all that surprising that it had gained such rapid popularity. The fact that they were as large as a mango had a part in it too no doubt.

“Ish good,” Lash sighed contentedly, leaning her head on my shoulder as went to take another big bite of fruit.

“It is,” I agreed, wrapping my arm around her waist.

Lash glanced at me briefly before returning to her fruit, snuggling closer as she did so.

As much as I wanted to relax I was finding it difficult to do so. I had a needling feeling that something wasn’t quite right. It was a feeling that weeks of combat in the arena had honed into a sense of imminent danger. Specifically, it was the feeling I got when someone was standing in my blind spot and preparing to strike.

Hearing nothing out of place, I could still feel the sense of danger growing.

Perhaps sensing something herself, or just reacting to my change in mood, Lash suddenly grew tense as well.

Slowly drawing Lash protectively onto my lap, I strained my ears for any sign of what the danger may be. Again all I managed to hear was the faint scraping of Lash’s breastplate.

“Smell death,” Lash grunted in warning, snorting quietly with her nose.

*THWACK!!!*

Even with Lash’s warning and my own paranoia, it was too slow to react and caught a hard blow to the back of the head. Barely fazed by the blow, I leapt to my feet and caught another blow against my back, but it skidded off at an angle and did no real damage. Balling my right fist, I spun on the spot and extended my arm in the same practice motion.

*Clang Clank Clang*

I caught an armoured figure in the chest with my forearm and sent him flying into the briar wall.

Faced with five more targets, two wearing heavy armour and wielding large blades, what looked like a mage in dark robes cowering in the rear with two lightly armoured companions with twin shortswords.

“Subdue him!” The dark mage barked with audible panic, a thick belt clutched tightly in his left hand while he fumbled for something in the folds of his robes.

Without making a sound, the armoured figures lurched forward, raising their swords and preparing to strike while those with shortswords similarly jerked into sudden motion, moving to cover the flanks.

“INVADERS!!!” Lash cried as I heard her draw the backup knife from behind her back. The size of a machete, the backup weapon was not to be underestimated.

Feeling a primal rage well up inside of me as I realised that I was not the only one in danger, but Lash was as well, I charged at the armoured enemies in front of me.

*Thwack Chink Thump*

Completely unarmoured, wearing only my boxers, I caught the first large sword on my right collarbone, barely registering the hit as the blade snapped and threw its owner off balance. The second blade struck the meat of my shoulder and bounced off, forcing my attacker to adjust their footing to prepare a follow-up strike.

“RAAAAGH!!!” Channelling mana into my fists, I drew them both close to my chest and then threw them out to either side as I passed the heavily armoured enemies.

*BOOOOOM!!!*

Both enemies exploded in a shower of broken metal, disappearing from my peripheral vision as I closed in on the mage.

In a visible panic, the dark mage projected bolts of dark energy at my chest.

[Spell has been mitigated by Toughness.] [Spell has been mitigated by Toughness.] [Spell has been mitigated by Toughness.] [Spell has been mitigated by Toughness.] [Spell has been mitigated by Toughness.]

The string of notifications streamed through my peripheral vision as the bolts of dark energy impacted against my chest one after the other. Feeling nothing more than a faint chill normally associated with an evening breeze, I ignored the attack and continued my charge.

Trusting Lash to hold the skirmishers with shortswords at bay, or kill them outright, I lunged for the dark mage and managed to grab a hold of his left arm, breaking his bones like kindling just as he drew a wand from inside of his robes. Even in my enraged state, I could tell that the polished stick in the mage’s hand was important, so I made to snatch it before he could release whatever magic was inside.

*Crunch CRACK!!!*

Mere moments before my meaty fist closed around the mage’s hand and the wand he was holding, it began to emit large amounts of mana. Too slow to stop me, I crushed the mage's hand and wand together, shattering both and releasing a near-deafening explosion.

Thrown backwards by the blast and momentarily disoriented, I was even more confused when I found paved stones beneath my hands and not grass. A quaint old-timey village road had seemingly appeared from nowhere.

Pushing myself to my feet, I was even more confused at finding the road I was standing on was flanked by row upon row of equally quaint wood and brick houses.

“TIM!” Lash’s voice echoed from a small side street nearby and was shortly followed by the sounds of combat.

Instincts took over again, circumventing my state of escalating confusion and propelling me down the side street and towards the direction of Lash’s voice.

“DIE! DIE!” Lash barked viciously, her epithets accompanied by heavy impacts from her machete. Retreating into the back alley I had just entered, Lash was being pursued by what looked like an angry mob of humans. However, As confused as I was, I had seen more than enough zombie movies to recognise the awkward stagger when I saw it. To make things worse though, the zombies were not limited exclusively to nerve dead shamblers, hosting at least four spritely and surprisingly survival-oriented runners in their midst as well.

“LASH!” I roared and barrelled straight into the thick of the mob lashing out in all directions with complete abandon and madly stomping my feet on anything unfortunate enough to fall over. Sweeping chunks out of the nearby buildings flung pieces of brick and timber into the ever-thinning crowd, disrupting any attempts at a coordinated attempt to regroup.

To make things worse for the undead, their broken fingers and teeth proved incapable of even scratching my skin which made the fight entirely one-sided.

*Whoosh Thwack*

The last of the runners left standing caught Lash’s machete to the back as it attempted to flee and was pinned to a nearby building.

Stalking after her machete, and the still writhing runner it was inside of, lash was incredibly careful to avoid the corpses littering the alleyway. It was just as well since some of them were still moving.

Stomping out the last signs of resistance while Lash retrieved her weapon, I glanced at the combat log’s kill notifications and frowned.

[You have slain {Plague Zombie: 1 } +0 Exp]

[You have slain {Zombie: 1 } +0 Exp]

[You have slain {Crypt Stalker: 1 } +0 Exp]

Comparing the names to the carnage, I slowly began puzzling out which was which. The Crypt Stalkers were easiest to identify, being the intelligent runners of the group. The Plague Zombies seemed to be the Zombies wearing rotten tattered rags, while the Zombies were the ones bearing bite marks and bloodstained clothing. Both were equally decomposed, so there really wasn't any other means of differentiating them.

[You have slain {Crypt Stalker: 1 } +0 Exp]

Lash returned with her machete in hand and seemed incredibly nervous. More than understandable after what her people had been through, I pulled Lash close with one arm and gave her a reassuring squeeze while keeping a wary eye out for danger. I had been nothing if not loud when dealing with the undead, and their presence combined with the relative silence of our surroundings did not bode well.

Still piloted by instincts, I led Lash away from the alley and back towards the road, having vaguely recalled seeing a distant gate and large wall in the distance. Unfortunately, the sun was close to setting and I could no longer make out either the gate or wall by the time we returned to the road.

Knowing that we needed shelter, I turned my attention to a large building in the centre of a crossroads down the road that looked to be mostly made of brick and stone. Apparently sturdy enough to keep the undead out, the building appeared to be in the midst of a siege. Hordes of undead milled about on the road, some of them concentrating around the large gate-like door while others pressed against the walls.

With instincts fading and reason slowly asserting dominance again, I cringed as I recalled having charged a mob of infectious zombies without protection. Pushing back against the urge to vomit, I looked around for a potential weapon.

Understanding what I was doing, Lash started looking as well. “There,” she pointed to a wooden beam supporting a wood awning.

Nodding my thanks I pulled the beam free of the awning and dislodged it from the flagstones beneath. Roughly six inches thick and eight feet long, Lash used her machete to round the lower third of the beam and then pulled the length of cord from her hair to try and make a sort of grip. By no means optimal, it was far better than the alternative.

Gratefully accepting the improvised club, I hugged lash tightly to reassure myself as much as her. “Just trail behind me, if things start to look bad, just run. I’ll be right behind you. No matter what happens, don’t let them touch you. Some of them seem to carry disease.”

Lash nodded and buried her face in my chest for a moment before stepping away. By no means an innocent damsel in distress, Lash seemed to understand the true danger presented by the undead. With far higher Toughness and both of our collective defensive Racial Abilities, I was in far less danger than she was, and it would be best not to risk more than we had to.

Most buildings we passed while carefully making our way down the road had broken doors and damaged or missing window shutters. The closer we came to the fortified stone building, the louder the sounds of the undead became.

With the sun having set, Lash and I were forced to wait a few minutes for my eyes to adjust to the reduced lighting before pressing forward. Able to see better in the dark than when I first awakened in the Labyrinth, my eyesight was still nowhere close to Lash’s level. All the same, I could still make out the individual members of the horde once we drew closer.

Seemingly mindless, the undead didn’t notice our approach until we came within a hundred or so feet of those on the periphery. However, the hollow moans and rasping growls of those few were like a call to arms, quickly drawing a large force of the force in our direction.

Rolling my shoulders to limber up, I did my best to try and stay calm as a hundred or so shambling corpses headed my way with an unholy hunger in their cold dead eyes.

*Whump Crunch Thwack Thump Crunch*

Sweeping my club into the first rank of zombies sent their broken rotting bodies flying and dashing against the nearby buildings. The impacts barely fazed me at all and had little slowing power on the swing itself either. Seeing all five kill notifications stream through my peripheral vision gave me a boost in confidence as I readied my next swing.

My hours of ceaseless fighting in the arena had taught me an important lesson about fighting. That lesson was the importance of maintaining momentum. Single attacks were serviceable, but stringing alternating attacks together was far more efficient when it came to expending energy and tiring muscles.

With that in mind, I took a deep breath and began my advance. With large amounts of my striking force coming from my hips, it was important to move while making my attacks in order to avoid pulling a muscle and add as much momentum to a strike as possible.

Battering aside the shambling corpses with near impunity, I grew concerned as my club began to show signs of splintering. All the same, I continued pushing forward, drawing more and more undead from the horde as I did so.

The constant assault of zombies was slowly taking a toll on my nerves and grew worse each time I was forced to dispatch one with my bare fist or feet. The smell was growing close to unbearable and was making me lightheaded, intensifying with each of the undead bodies broken apart in the vicinity.

The large stone building was close now, but far more undead was approaching from an ever-widening arc.

*Crunch Thud CRACK*

While batting away another wave of zombies, the improvised club finally gave out, losing close to half its length as a large chunk and a long strip of wood splintered away. Left with a much shorter club and far more enemies than I had originally anticipated, I quickly glanced back at Lash and considered a retreat.

As I had asked, Lash was taking great pains to avoid all contact with the undead, warily winding her way through the corridor of relatively clear ground between the scattered corpses. Wearing only half of her armour, there were a multitude of exposed sections of skin on her legs and arms as well as her completely uncovered head. Pushing our way through the horde and scaling the building was therefore not an acceptable risk.

“Pull back!” I called out and began slowly backing up.

“Retreating!” Lash called back, the sounds of her armour growing more distance confirming her retreat.

Braining any zombies that drew too close, the closer proximity only served to worsen the effect on both my nerves and nausea. Coming close to my breaking point, I turned away and began to run, slowing only so Lash could fall into stride beside me and set our pace. “Head for the gate and the wall!” I pointed ahead of us and down the road.

“No!” Lash insisted, “Many more ahead!”

Trusting in her eyesight, I did my best to suppress the sudden urge to panic. “We will try to loop back!” I suggested, pointing to a smaller but still quite large road coming up on our right.

“Agreed,” Lash slowed our pace considerably and in doing so became much quieter. Smelling the unmistakable rot of the undead on the wind, it was obviously a contributing factor to her decision.

Moving at a fast pace, we were both tall enough that we still managed to cover ground incredibly quickly. Arriving at the road I had suggested, I winced upon seeing a dozen or so shambling undead wandering about in the near-immediate vicinity.

Unlike the main road, the smaller road had upturned and overturned carts of all sizes scattered along its length. Some of the nearest carts' contents appeared to be clothes and ruptured parcels of food. Trying not to think too much about it, I motioned to one of the carts that appeared to be undamaged and then moved to intercept the undead that had now noticed us.

Lash nodded in understanding and headed for the cart.

Despite having lost most of its length, the club was still incredibly effective at dashing open zombies rotting skulls. The possibility of their heads being a universal weak point briefly registered in my mind, but given my stats and Racial Ability bonuses, I quickly dismissed it as irrelevant.

Having retrieved the cart and its contents, Lash cautiously began pulling it along with one arm while keeping a firm grip on her machete as she maintained a few paces distance behind me. Clothes and food,” Lash reported quietly, wanting to avoid drawing more attention to us than necessary.

Knowing nothing would fit me anyway, I nodded and continued pushing ahead, making sure to check each of the smaller branching streets we passed just in case they had Crypt Stalkers or other faster-moving undead that would be able to catch up to us. As is, we had already accumulated a small pack of zombies lagging behind us, having either drifted out from the side roads or abandoned buildings.

The road ended in a right turn but had smaller side roads that would otherwise allow us to continue forwards or head to the left. Wanting to try and reach the fortified stone building, I signalled right and we continued on our way again.

Just like the previous road, this one was festooned with damaged carts and abandoned belongings, most of them stained with blood or marred by claw marks. There was also a minor presence of undead, but there were so few that it was almost insignificant.

Continuing down the road, it soon became apparent why. An almost rhythmic thumping noise could be heard from down the street and seemed to be drawing the undead to it. Reaching a crossroads but still not having doubled back far enough to connect to the large stone building, I could see a squat two-story stone building with perhaps a hundred zombies gathered outside of its large ironbound door.

The source of the thumping noise soon became evident as I witnessed a small wooden crane on the top of the building lift what looked to be a rather sizable boulder up into the air before releasing and dropping the same boulder into the gathered ranks of the undead. This process is repeated roughly every twenty seconds, sometimes taking longer or shorter with no real rhyme or reason to it.

“Humans,” Lash hissed quietly, pointing her machete to the roof of the building.

“How many?” I asked, coming to a stop and motioning for Lash to do the same.

Lash shrugged apologetically, “See four?” She didn’t seem particularly confident in her observation. Not that I blamed her, Lash had a little trouble telling humans apart without significant identifying features. Given that I had the same problem with just about every monstrous Species, I was more than happy to let it slide.

Seeing a light appear on the roof of the building, I was wondering what the people trapped inside were up to when the light began to flash in an incredibly familiar pattern. “They are trying to signal us,” I explained for Lash’s benefit.

With no means of lighting an improvised torch, we had no real means of communicating back in the same manner, even if I understood what they were trying to say.

Lash seemed quite aware of this problem as well. “Soldier with them,” she commented, pointing with her machete to the source of the light, “Silver wings.”

“You're sure?” I asked, a little surprised she was able to make out the soldier so well with the interference of the light.

Lash nodded.

Silver wings meant that the soldier was actually a lieutenant or a captain, depending on their size. With the presence of a commissioned officer, there was a much greater chance that Tim would be able to negotiate peacefully with the humans. There might even be a chance that the officer knew of him already, although Tim found that possibility unlikely given the secrecy with which the Asrusian government had been operating thus far.

“Let's try approaching from the side,” I suggested, “I’ll lift you up onto the roof and then climb up after you.”

Lash didn’t seem particularly thrilled by that idea, but she showed a great deal of trust in me by nodding her head in agreement.

Tying together a number of articles of clothing to form a pair of sashes for me to wear over each shoulder and a makeshift belt to hold them in place, we then tied the small bags of food to the sashes. We then used torn scraps of fabric to wedge between the plates of Lash’s armour in an attempt to reduce the amount of noise produced whenever she moved about. Lastly, I tore off the arms of the cart to serve as a fresh pair of improvised clubs.

Giving one of the new clubs to Lash, I switched the broken club to my left hand and used the new one in my right. Even though we were intending to skirt the hoard, I still wanted to play things as safe as possible.

Thankfully the rags dampened the noise made by Lash’s armour considerably. However, as we drew closer to the horde and began skirting around, it became apparent that the zombies seemed to become aware of our presence regardless.

Now able to hear the warning cries of the humans, and no small number of expletives, I chose to ignore them and focus on getting Lash to the building with as few undead around as possible. With far fewer undead around than the building on the main road, it was much easier to hold my nerve and deal with the piecemeal assault of the zombies.

In fact, the zombies in the immediate area approached in such a staggered formation that I just continued killing them instead. Perhaps understanding that it would be best to be rid of them rather than just getting out of their reach, Lash made no complaints and diligently shadowed me as we slowly made our way towards the wall of the stone building.

Close enough now to see arrow slits on the second story and taking note of the absence of windows on the first floor, I quickly realised that this building was likely a guard or army watch station of some kind. This served as some sort of explanation for why an enlisted officer was present on the top of the building since he was very likely working when everything went to shit.

Having taken care of the zombies in the immediate area and noting that the closest stragglers were more than a few minutes away, I decided that it was probably time to start paying attention to the angry conversations taking place above us.

“-care if it killed those fucking undead! There is no way I am letting that monster inside!” A male voice argued belligerent, his voice cracking under stress, “Let it keep killing undead out there!”

There were general rumblings of assent.

“Quiet!” An authoritative voice demanded in a tone that made it absolutely clear that this man was more than happy to have someone whipped for not obeying him. “Whether they are the slaves of an Adventurer or not, I don’t care. The gods saw fit to grant a bloody miracle and I am not going to allow ignorance and thickheaded thinking to allow this opportunity to pass us by. Have I made myself clear?!”

There was a short silence and then the sound of booted heels clicking on hardwood.

As expected, the officer appeared at the low wall of the roof above them, his helmet and breastplate both dented and bearing deep scratches that were made more obvious by the moonlight. Seeing Tim, and to a lesser extent Lash apparently gave him pause in spite of his earlier words. “Ahem,” The officer somewhat nervously cleared his throat before seeming to settle into a familiar and rather stiff posture. “Gree-ee-tings, man-ny tha-anks o-or kill-ling thee un-de-ead,” he was speaking like a stereotypical American tourist, dragging out each syllable.

“I speak Asrusian, and you're welcome,” I replied while checking the progress of the slowly approaching undead.

The officer was taken aback for a moment, “Yes, It appears you do indeed…” There was another short pause, “Mayhaps it would be better if we were to parlay out of the reach of the undead?” He suggested, his attention similarly focused on the zombies that were now only a minute or so away. “I shall have ropes lowered yourself and your companion momentarily,” he promised before stepping away from the wall, “Higgins! Two lengths of thick rope! On the double!”

“Up you go,” I knelt down and lifted Lash onto my shoulders.

Carefully standing on my shoulders, Lash used one of the arrow slits as a temporary foothold and used her other foot to propel herself off my shoulder and scramble high enough to grab the low wall on the roof. Cautiously pulling herself over the wall, Lash’s appearance nonetheless provoked a number of cries of alarm.

Roughly half as tall as the building, I took a short jog back for a run-up and jumped. Rather easily grabbing hold of the low wall, I was still grateful for Lash’s help in pulling myself up. My gains in muscle had made me quite heavy and I was not at all used to lifting my own body weight.

Now standing on the roof, I could see that in addition to the officer, there were a dozen men and women in what looked to be leather armour and caps all bearing a sigil I was unfamiliar with. None of them seemed particularly pleased to see us.

The officer, who I could now see had a finely trimmed pencil moustache and was walking with a noticeable limp, briefly turned his attention to one of the men standing beside the makeshift crane, “It seems, Private Stibbons, that it was not up to you or me to decide after all.”

*****

Forced to crane his neck to make eye contact with even the pale-skinned and incredibly tall female Orc, Watch Captain Morris ignored the pain from his broken foot and made the effort to meet the giant’s gaze. Having already witnessed firsthand how the monster could destroy the undead with apparent ease, he was in no rush to insult him in any way. This was one of the reasons Morris had banished Private Stibbons to the second floor with the civilians. The short conversation Morris and the monster had shared already made it painfully obvious that it was of at least human intelligence.

“I am Captain Morris of the Mournbrent City watch, acting Commander of the western districts,” Morris cited politely, taking only a minor liberty with the self-appointed responsibility of acting Commander. With no reply from the central command and only sporadic communications with the West Guard Headquarters, Morris knew enough to assume he was the most senior ranking officer in the western districts.

The giant nodded to itself as if he had assumed as much, “You were right,” he told his companion before turning his attention back to Morris, “I am Tim, you might have heard of me?”

Intrigued, Morris politely shook his head, “I am sorry, I don’t believe I have.”

The giant nodded again, showing no true signs of irritation or anger, just mild disappointment. “I have dealings with your Regent and Military,” he explained with deliberate and telling vagueness, “If you have a communicator and contact…Damnit, what was Klive’s promotion again? Some sort of marshal…They made him a Baron, I know that. There can’t be too many Barons named Klive-”

With a wife who was something of a social climber, Morris knew exactly who the giant was talking about, “Field Marshal Klive? The Baron and Lord Governor of territories in the Hurst Labyrinth?” Morris suggested with no small amount of surprise.

“That’s it,” Tim confirmed happily, “Although it would probably be safe to assume all the marshals know about me too,” he conceded thoughtfully.

Morris gulped down the lump forming in his throat and tried his best to remain calm. For a monster to be so well connected he had to be some sort of secret operative, there was no other explanation Morris could think of.

“Oh, and this is my wife, Lash,” Tim leaned down and gave the female orc a gentle kiss, “And I will give you only one warning. Anyone who tries to harm her dies.”

A shiver ran down Morris’s spine at the sudden shift in tone and the deadly seriousness in the giant’s gaze, his suddenly cold eyes promising a violent end at the least. “I will make sure everyone is on their best behaviour,” Morris promised, glancing back at his men and not at all surprised to find them all quite thoroughly cowed. “As for contacting the military, I am sorry to say that we lack the means to do so. Short of stumbling upon a communicator from an officer on leave, the best bet would be central command’s headquarters, but they have been thoroughly overrun. Attempting to retrieve a communicator would be incredibly dangerous, That is, for us humans I mean,” Morris added somewhat apologetically, not wanting to have the giant mistake the assessment for an insult.

“That’s not great…” Tim conceded with surprising reasonableness. “What exactly happened here? Why are there Zombies and other undead everywhere?”

Morris fought hard to maintain his composure as he remembered the events of a little over two weeks prior. “They came from the Labyrinth…” Morris clasped his hands behind his back to stop them from trembling, and when that failed, to keep them out of sight, “Much more powerful undead were reported to have led the charge. Contracted personal security forces of the Guilds failed to react swiftly and…and the undead began butchering their way through the streets. Guards and civilians alike were caught up in the bloodbath. We had lost the central district before any sort of warning reached the outer districts. The central district's gates have all been closed but at great cost. The Strongest undead are locked inside and the gates stop new waves of undead from entering the rest of the city, but there were already too many lesser undead running rampant in the outer districts…We have tried to protect as many civilians as we can, but we are under siege. The undead can sense life and are drawn to it like moths to a flame. I do not know how else to describe it, but we are under siege in our own city.”

“So that’s why…” The giant rumbled thoughtfully, “So the large stone building I saw over that way,” Tim pointed to the northeast, roughly in the direction of the western districts promenade cathedral “Must have survivors, right?”

Morris nodded, his heart somewhat eased by the news of other survivors, “I would believe so,” he agreed.

“Which building would be more defensible?” Tim asked curiously, “This one, or that one?”

Normally, this may have taken some serious consideration, but this particular cathedral was built to withstand prolonged sieges, specifically sieges by the undead. The martial devotees of the cathedral were all high levelled and experienced with fighting the undead. If anywhere in the western district was going to be safe, it would be there. ”Definitely the cathedral,” Morris insisted, “The other building I mean,” he corrected hastily.

“A cathedral? Hrm, I didn’t see any stained glass windows…” Tim muttered with vague interest, displaying a surprisingly high degree of familiarity with the clergy's typical preference in architecture. “I don’t suppose you want to come with us?” The giant inquired with some degree of interest, “It would be nice to have someone around who can talk down any trigger happy crossbowmen.”

As badly as Morris was tempted by the safety that would be afforded by the monastery, he would not abandon his duty, nor his men or the civilians under his care. “I’m sorry, but I cannot abandon my post, not while my people still need me,” Morris apologised with no small amount of regret but also a welcome sense of pride.

Tim nodded as if he had expected as much and had just offered the invitation as a courtesy. “You won’t leave people behind, I can respect that.”

The female Orc’s ears twitched and her attention shifted to the stairs momentarily before returning to the giant that was her husband, “Children,” she stated bluntly with expectation in her amethyst coloured eyes and a genuinely surprising degree of empathy.

“I figured there would be,” Tim replied with a small smile, “I wasn’t intending to take just you, Captain. If we can find a waggon or something for the women and children, I would very much prefer to take all of you.”

Morris very nearly lost his composure entirely, unable to understand what exactly he was hearing, “You would take everyone with you?”

Tim nodded, “Of course,” he agreed adamantly, earning an admiring look from his wife, “Although I would very much prefer a decently made weapon first. These improvised clubs just can’t take the sustained abuse.”

Morris recalled the clubs he had seen the giant using earlier and was inclined to agree, they certainly weren’t solid enough to handle the sheer force behind the blows they were delivering. “It’s unfortunate, but I don’t think there would be anything your size anywhere in the city,” Morris apologised.

Tim looked down at his huge fists and sighed before nodding in agreement, “Figures…” Eyes widening as seemed to have something of an epiphany, the giant grinned as he lumbered over to the crane and stared down at the small host of Zombies that had gathered below.

Curious to see what the giant was up to, Morris hobbled after him and peered over the edge. Just as he had assumed, a couple of dozen Zombies had gathered outside the main door and were mindlessly trying to club it down with their mangled fists.

Lifting the rope connected to the large rock with only the strength in his arm, the giant aimed and dropped it on the unsuspecting head of one of the zombies. The zombie in question crumpled instantly. The giant waited for a moment before repeating the process ten more times in rapid succession.

*Pop Clunk*

Thinking he must be hearing things, Morris turned around to try and see what had caused the noise.

“My axe!” The female Orc called out excitedly, picking up a solid looking iron axe off the rooftop and sheathing her crude blade behind her back.

Quite sure there had been no such axe only a few moments ago, Morris was about to ask one of his men where it had come from but stopped as he heard the same popping noise and witnessed yet another axe seemingly materialise out of thin air and clatter onto the rooftop.

“Mind if I borrow the old one?” Tim asked, lumbering over to the newly arrived axe and looking to his wife for permission before picking it up. “I’d honestly like my clubs, but the amount of Zombies the quest was demanding is outrageous!”

“Axe better,” the female Orc replied somewhat dismissively as she lovingly cleaned the head of her axe with a rag.

“Does the military use different codes?” Tim asked, suddenly directing all of his attention to Morris.

Morris nodded and tried to find his voice.

“Well that sucks…” Tim muttered somewhat dejectedly before quickly becoming optimistic again, “Would the military recognise guard codes?”

“Th-Aherm!” Morris was forced to clear his throat in order to speak, “I believe they would, the codes are very distinctive,” he explained while doing his best not to become overwhelmed.

“Do the communicators have a maximum range?” Tim pressed, apparently having come up with a plan and only requiring confirmations before putting it into motion.

Morris nodded, momentarily losing his composure and forced to lean on the low wall for support.

“Hopefully Kestrel won’t get too mad,” the giant chuckled to himself in amusement as he returned to the crane.

For the first time in his life, Morris was happy to feel so profoundly out of his depth. With two literal monsters of such a calibre on their side, how could he not feel like events were finally beginning to turn in his favour?