novelraw Chapter 152: Dreadwolf Steelpaw
Chapter 152: Dreadwolf Steelpaw
The Nexus. Near the Geographic Center of the North Rythian Forests. Just Outside the Dragon’s Lair. Local Time: 2045 Hours.
Thalmin
It began with a ripple.
Then a gentle but pathetic nudge.
It was as if my aura was being prodded with a feather and tugged at with velvet gloves, all with the strength and ferocity of a malnourished runt.
I’d scarcely even understood what the shatorealmer was attempting until he finally started to get ‘serious.’
At which point I couldn’t help but break out into a grin, standing up to match the shatorealmer’s height… before exceeding it, crossing my arms with a confidence my uncle would’ve disapproved of.
The would-be mercenary was attempting a scry, poking, prodding, and nudging at the local manastreams, all in a vain attempt at assessing exactly who and what it was they were up against.
It took every ounce of restraint I had not to overwhelm this pathetic excuse of a Nexian collaborator. It required a willful attempt at recognizing my uncle’s stern words — specifically following the incident at the Portside Tavern — not to simply stun, incapacitate, or outright blind the chosen one’s manasense, if only to maintain the intelligence advantage. To ensure that we could dictate the narrative of this encounter.
Revealing our hand would have locked us into an awkward position, but then again… there was a high likelihood these mercenaries would’ve recognized me all the same.
It all depended on just how well-read they were… which was difficult to say just based on a cursory inspection.
The adventurers in Elaseer had the benefit of proximity — and, by extension, familiarity — to all things adjacent.
But I knew not just how familiar this particular mercenary outfit was with said matters.
Regardless, Uncle’s lessons were pertinent all the same.
It was best to not show one’s hand, at least not in the opening moves of a battle.
My only wish was for Emma to have been able to witness this futility, to truly bear witness to the non-threats we faced.
Or at least, those were my opening thoughts, up until the elf finally entered the fray.
His scries… were far more effective.
Still a ways away from our contemporaries back in the Academy, but leagues above the pathetic, half-hearted proddings of the shatorealmer.
I actually had to make an effort to conceal my aura this time around. The results of which… proved to be enough to garner a raise of a brow from the otherwise jester-faced captain.
“I will only say this once more…” He spoke with a growing suspicion. “Exactly who are you, and why are you here?”
There was no more use in delaying the inevitable.
Just as there was no more use in playing hide the bandana from the hand fate had dealt us.
“Heh. That first question’s smart, I’ll give ya that.” I responded with a gruffer twang in my cadence, taking a step forward to close the distance. “But that second question?” I paused, letting out a series of gravelly ‘tsks’ in the process. “Not so much, friend. Not so much.”
The tension in the air spiked to an unbearable degree, so much so that the shatorealmer’s posture stiffened, their eyes peering nervously towards the Captain’s.
“Oh? Is that so?” The Captain responded in that annoyingly playful sing-song cadence, each word bouncing back and forth as if ready to break into song.
“‘Dunno, don’t much care, ‘cause that’s yer problem. Thing is, a man like you is smart enough to figure out the why of things.” I paused, pointing bluntly towards the dragon’s lair before deftly shifting a thumb towards my armored chest. “So the question now becomes — do you really wanna know the who?”
Another silence descended on the scene, interrupted only by the whinnying of Aquastride and a solid gulp from the shatorealmer.
The elf, meanwhile — and very much to his credit — remained stone-faced, bearing only the slightest of amused expressions as he finally let out a disquieting sigh following a good five seconds of contemplation.
“‘Course I do.” He responded, dropping a word as he flip-flopped between High Nexian and a bastardized ‘merc-speak’ pidgin. “Because either ‘yer a real problem, or a bunch’a idiots. Either way, that makes you my problem.” The elf reached inside his jacket, producing a crown warrant the likes of which looked far, far more serious than the warrants Sym showed us belonging to those dragon-hunting adventurers. “The forest is off limits, if you haven’t heard. So tell me… who sent you? Or are you dumb enough to risk crown penalties for your own glory?”
“Who says it can’t be both?” I responded cryptically, putting all cards into the bluff as I channeled in elements of my sister’s… and admittedly, Ilunor’s penchant for theatrics.
This finally tripped something in the elf’s head, as his eyes narrowed, his face grew stoic, and his stance tightened.
The shatorealmer’s eyes shot warily back and forth between us, their anxiety reaching a fever pitch, prompting me to ready a battle stance—
“Ha… BWAhaHAHAHAHAHAH!”
—but not before the elf could completely defuse the situation with a boisterous, surprisingly earnest laugh.
“Oh… oh, I’ve missed talking to a fellow raconteur!” He beamed, lifting a white-gloved hand to wipe away a single forceful tear. “Quite daring, I should say, to pull such a stunt with a clearly powerful stranger at that…” He paused to gesture towards himself and the mercenary party busying about closer to the dragon’s lair. “Which means that regardless of whether you are fools or truly… problems, I should be rid of you posthaste.” He grinned toothily before raising a single hand towards us.
I braced for a strike, and so did Emma; however, instead of any fire, lightning, or telekinetics… nothing came.
“And what better way to be rid of potential competition than to simply join forces under the same cause?” The elf’s hand straightened out into an open-palmed handshake. “Listen stranger, I am not what most would describe as a… charitable man. But what I am is a man who recognizes an opportunity to increase the odds of a job well done. And right now? I’m seeing a path where all of us can win. You’re here for the dragon, that much is clear. But what exactly are you here for? The gold reward? The title of dragonslayer? The dragon itself…?” He paused menacingly at that latter line before quickly moving forward. “Or perhaps something else entirely?”
“Nothing that you’re clearly here for, it seems.” I offered bluntly, presenting the self-important Captain with a third option. “To put it simply, we’re here to harvest its crystals. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“Which means that our interests do not conflict.” The Captain remarked thoughtfully, his hand still outstretched. “In fact, it aligns quite well if you ask me… we both desire something from this unsightly beast. You, a poacher’s trinket. And I, the whole kit and caboodle. So with that being said, why don’t we make a deal. Two clearly well-equipped and talented hands in temporary service over the duration of this venture. For some trivial amethyst shards.”
I narrowed my eyes, crossing my arms tighter before letting out a disinterested huff. “And if I refuse?”
“You won’t gain access to the dragon.” The Captain replied bluntly but civilly. Though his next few words quickly dipped into that typical Nexian venom. “And
I will have no qualms with reporting you and your… golem compatriot there to the appropriate authorities.” That ultimatum hung in the air for just over a second before I reached a hand out but stopped just short of a shake. “We dictate our own actions, no matter how involved or distant.”
“Yes, yes, yes. Full autonomy.” The Captain acquiesced as we both gripped hands with a respective second’s hesitation. “Moreover, if anyone asks, I will simply mention I met two freelancers on the way to the cave. It will be as if you were never here.”
Emma
I didn’t like this guy. Not one bit.
This was despite him doing everything right.
The red flags weren’t so red when it came to him, especially as he’d reacted… surprisingly rationally to the back-and-forths with Thalmin.
He’d confronted us as any merc boss would, escalated the interaction as the situation demanded, and even offered an off-ramp in the form of an acceptable compromise, de-escalating instead of going full murder-hobo as most Castles and Wyverns player parties would have done.
The only real downside to his actions thus far was his coercion tactics, doubling down on his superior leverage by hammering home how cooperation — under his purview — was the only way for us to accomplish our objectives.
Though honestly, that was pretty tame in the grand scheme of Nexian assholery.
Even so, there was something about the guy that just didn’t sit right with me. But maybe that was just my Nexian bias speaking. This whole adventure did prove that there were ‘decent’ Nexians out there, Lord L’Sips being one of them. Maybe I just needed to give this guy a chance?
Whatever the case was, it was too late to back out now.
What’s more, I trusted Thalmin’s lead on this one. He knew the merc world way better than I, so maybe he was seeing something I wasn’t. That, or he understood that this was our best shot at getting to the dragon given the developments. Whether or not he trusted the guy was another matter entirely, though he was certainly trying to peel back the layers. It was clear that the banter was a way for him to poke and prod at the Captain, as much as he was prodding at us.
Speaking of which…
“I don’t suppose you have a name with which to offer me?” The elf inquired candidly. “Don’t worry, it’s not going in a ledger or what have you. I’d just like to know what to call you, is all. Wouldn’t want to be shouting ‘lupinor mercenary’ for the upteenth time during a dance with dragons.” He promptly added, though that latter part was mumbled out in mild annoyance.
“My adventuring name is Dreadwolf. Dreadwolf Steelpaw. Though most know me by my full title, Dreadwolf the Dire.” Thalmin responded convincingly.
So convincingly, in fact, that I couldn’t help but cackle hard in my armor, both the EVI and my own irises making certain to have muted all external speakers before then.
Are youseriousright now, Thalmin? I mouthed out as I tried my best not to leak anything through body language.
“And the… gole—”
“A name for a name, good sir.” Thalmin cut the man off, prompting him to clear his throat in response.
“My apologies.” He forced out through gritted teeth before composing himself. “My name is Captain Ignalius the Indomitable, Breaker of the Hall of Coin, and Silencer of the Guilds.”
“Well met, Captain Ignalius.” Thalmin dipped his head, bowing in respect, which seemed to perk the man’s spirits up to no end.
Ah. So he wasthatsorta guy. Got it.
“Now then, about that golem of yours.” He spoke curiously, nodding his head in my direction. “Quite a frivolous display of wealth, a bit dangerous to be having it out and about what with the risk of theft potentially outweighing its usefulness.”
“You’d be surprised to see how well it can hold its own. Not to mention, I don’t take kindly to advances on my property.” Thalmin responded with a growl, playing the part a bit too well.
The elf, however, seemed more amused than threatened by that pushback, only nodding halfheartedly whilst nudging the smalltalk forward. “Might I ask how you acquired it?”
“A dungeon.” Thalmin responded plainly. “I was hired to clear out a particularly nasty forest’s dungeon, part of a local Verderer’s auxiliary forces in compliance with His Eternal Majesty’s cull order. Just so happens that I got stuck in a vault of artifacts, fought my way through, and claimed this as my own.” He gestured to both me and the V4c. “To the victor go the spoils, as they say, eh?”
“Ahhhh cull orders.” Ignalius spoke once again in that sing-song voice. “Oh, how I love to hate such ventures. Though, if you ask me, it is quite eye-opening just how large and utterly labyrinthian these forests can make their dungeons.”
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“Really goes to show just how they hoard their offerings, huh?”
“Yes, quite. Just like dragons in a sense… it’s a wonder why we haven’t gotten rid of these vestiges of a bygone era yet…”
My eyes widened at that revelation, at what was perhaps one of the most natural explanations for the ‘infinite dungeon’ problem in Castles and Wyverns lore.
Because no matter how old and mysterious your worlds were… there was literally no way it contained that many untapped dungeons; no number of ‘fallen civilization’ cycles could ever sustain it. You’d eventually reach an era where the seemingly endless roster of dungeons would all be looted and sacked.
But now? At least here in the Nexus? There was actually an explanation for that plothole.
Though as with most answers, this led to even more questions than it solved, the most apparent of all being the existence of the dungeons themselves.
The offerings-turned-treasure was one thing, but the mystery now was the origin of the dungeons themselves. It was doubtful that people would go through the trouble of offering up the time, materiel, capital, and manpower necessary to build these subterranean structures in the first place.
Which meant the forest had to have built it itself. But how? Carving out natural caves was one thing, but how did it come up with the architecture, design, layout, and—
“So… Breaker of the Hall of Coin. What’d you do to get that name? And exactly whose hall of coin did you break, if I may ask?” Thalmin continued the small talk, breaking me out of my reverie.
However, before Ignalius could give an answer, we’d arrived at the cave entrance.
At which point, things quickly accelerated.
Teams of mercs hailing from at least five different species ran about the place, organized and efficient, taking on roles not too dissimilar to mining and construction crews as they began unpacking and unfurling trinket after magical trinket, all in an effort to construct what appeared to be a tighter, denser version of the netting used earlier by the two drake riders.
The mining aspect of the operation took center stage, however, as groups of kobolds and baxi gathered together to unload hundreds of iridescent glass tubes, each swirling with a rippling rainbow effect. From there, they began moving them to what I could only describe as a cross between a pinball machine and a water cooler, as vial upon vial were loaded and agitated into a dispenser, their mana either drained or taken wholesale by teams of elves armed with the same gauntlets as the shatorealmer.
Following which, and after a brief back-and-forth between Ignalius and the ‘mining’ team leader, they began drilling.
Or more specifically, they began punching into the sheer rock face of the dragon’s lair.
THOOOMF-SHKK!
THOOMF-SHKK!
THOOOOMF-SHKK!
Five satyrs under the watchful gaze of the shatorealmer slammed their gauntleted fists into the base of the rock face in staggered but rhythmic motions.
Meanwhile, the ‘knitting’ crew continued their crocheting, creating what was in effect a dragon-sized net that hummed against the EVI’s new wand sensors.
It was in the midst of the flurry of activity that two discrete groups stood out from the rest. The EVI’s tactical categorization systems quickly singled them out as the actual teeth of this operation.
[Threat Analysis Report (TAR) - Force Composition Assessment (FCA)]
[Subject: UNDEFINED Third-Party (Temporarily-Aligned) Force. Working Designation: MERCENARY COMPANY 1 (MC1)]
Assessment:
(5) Discrete Task Elements Identified. 2x Combat Elements. 3x Support Elements.
[...]
E1: Perimeter Security Element. SEC.
Status: Conducting perimeter patrols.
Element Strength: 30 Personnel.
Equipment Profile… Light to Heavy Armor, Primary Armaments: Spears / Crossbows / Bows / Staffs, Secondary Armaments: Swords, Tertiary Armaments: N/A. Mana augmentation observed on all equipment.
Capabilities: N/A.
Posture Assessment: Defensive, Moderate Cohesion.
The world around me lit up in a new flurry of colors, shapes, and HUD-overlayed designators; Earthrealm’s own manasight for its combat operatives.
Unit markers and operational symbols hovered over each discrete patrol group, their patrol paths mapped out, their perimeter clearly defined, whilst their weapons, armor, and equipment were further highlighted whenever my gaze lingered or landed on any individual merc.
They seemed to be divided into groups of ten, organized further into fireteams of five, creating a sort of pseudo-squad level organization underneath the watchful eye of a platoon leader — a bunny-looking humanoid that seemed way too lightly armored for their own good.
Regardless, the whole scene was either a remarkable feat of military training courtesy of Nexian military sciences… especially considering the relative ‘era’ involved, or a result of the EVI’s confirmation bias. Perhaps in an attempt to instill combat awareness by reflecting observed behavior on analogous comparisons to what I knew back home.
Either way, it didn’t change things. The organization was there, and the weapons were there too; all that was missing was a certain level of professionalism, as squads joked and japed in between bites of cheese and crackers.
Though that didn’t detract much from their potential threat, especially at this scale of operations.
E2: Entry and Recon Element. RECON.
Status: Performing final equipment and readiness checks.
Element Strength: 9 Personnel.
Equipment Profile… Light to Medium Armor, Mixed Close and Mid-Range Weapons.
The next group, however, seemed somewhat less threatening. Led by a heavily armored dwarf with gear and equipment reminiscent of that of Sym, their ranks seem to lack the same armored readiness of their squad leader. Most donned simple chainmail over gambesons, with not a single piece of plate armor in sight. A stark contrast to the plate-armored heavy brigands of E1.
Weapons-wise, and build-wise, they also seemed lacking compared to the perimeter security element, though perhaps their makeup was intentional rather than an oversight. This was a recon team after all — or at least that’s what the EVI managed to infer from background chatter — and I doubted heavy equipment would be useful when running away from a raging dragon.
However, unlike the first two elements, the rest of the EVI’s report was…
E3: Engineering and Sapper Element. ENG-SAP.
Status: Engaged in breaching operations.
Element Strength: 5 Personnel + 1 Tactical Liaison Officer
… just a recap of the general operations I’d already observed.
E4: Logistics and Support Element. LOG-SUP.
Status: Equipment and Materiel Staging.
Element Strength: 15 Personnel
That was the case, at least, save for one specific element that remained stationary and idle for the most part.
E5: Transport and Mounted Element. TRANS-MNT.
Status: Dismounted. Coordinating and regulating mounted assets.
Element Strength: 20 Personnel.
Mobility Assets: 20 Horses. 1 Unknown Local—
“Alicorn.”
[...]
Report Continues: 1 Alicorn. 5 Armored Stagecoaches.
[...]
[Report Ends.]
“You know, Dreadwolf, I myself am something of an avid… collector of the rare and the useful myself.” I found my attention returning to Ignalius as he moved over to the latter element on the EVI’s report roster.
Or more specifically, towards the sole unique mount in the sea of normal horses — the alicorn.
There was an undeniable pride coloring the mercenary captain’s voice. If anything, it felt as if there was a strange drive behind his intent. As if compelled
to show off in front of an otherwise unimpressed Thalmin.“This—” He paused, before slapping the white-furred gold-maned horse on one of the few unarmored parts of its body; armor that I just realized… matched Ignalius’. “—is a pure-bred, prime-sourced, first-degree alicorn with direct pedigree to the Hellanius Herds of Mount Visnia.” He practically beamed, gesturing towards a small booklet directly roped and chained to one of the alicorn’s two sidebags. A quick flip-through revealed and reinforced just the type of person Ignalius was.
It was a book of certification, with stamps, seals, letters, and even a whole family tree, all to serve one purpose…
“Would you care to peruse? Maybe we can exchange Provenance Booklets? Provided, of course… that your Kelpie has such accreditation, hmm?”
The guy gave off huge showboating vibes. Or more specifically, it was clear he didn’t like being upstaged. The whole golem discussion and Thalmin’s refusal to even address his mythical mount were all just silent jabs at an ego that didn’t like being left to ruminate in the dark. However, what was also clear was the fact that he was trying everything to break the ice… even if it was a bit clumsy.
“I can tell that by the lack of crown-grade horse armor that you are a man to rely more on the raw potential of your beasts, rather than the refinement that crown enchantments provide.” He continued, as if to egg an otherwise poker-faced Thalmin on. “In fact, I find that matching sets of armor, and their associated enchantments, are quite the worthwhile investment.” He doubled down, gesturing to the alicorn and then his matching set of silver armor, inlaid with a a dizzying display of gold filigree.
None of it worked.
Which resulted in a sigh of disappointment from the elf.
“What’s its name?” Thalmin finally asked with a grumble.
“Excuse me—”
“I’m perhaps not the best beast master, but I consider myself a man who focuses first and foremost on the bond between rider and mount. You began these flighty introductions, all without once mentioning your mount’s name. Neither did you lead with it.” Thalmin replied simply, sidestepping all of the man’s boasts, digging into something that did feel off from the onset.
“Illuminous.” Ignalius replied curtly. “Though to be fair, I don’t take your accusations too kindly, Dreadwolf.” The elf narrowed his eyes in a thinly veiled ire. “Because I can assure you, I truly do care for my mount. Isn’t that right, Illy?” He moved to pat the alicorn, though if its stone-faced expression and half-hearted whinny was anything to go by, the affection was very clearly one-sided. A fact that Ignalius was quick to pick up on. “She’s just very stoic during operations. Being loaded into the cargo compartment of a Greater Drake probably doesn’t help much.” He added, as if to add another flex before Thalmin simply gave up with these social theatrics.
Thalmin
“So, what’s the plan?” I inquired bluntly.
“Straight to the point now, are we?” Ignalius responded coyly.
“I prefer my pleasantries over ale and campfire, not in front of a dragon’s den.” I reiterated.
The elf’s features once again softened, as if grateful I’d passed some sort of test of character.
“Just as you should.” He nodded slowly. “Though our… approach and attitude may be different, I can appreciate your candor, Dreadwolf. I see you’re not the type for small talk, even if I assumed there was some common ground to be had.” Ignalius let out another sigh, slipping back into his more serious merc captain persona. “I know there’s always a barrier to trust when it comes to our line of work, but whether or not you trust me is irrelevant, so long as we can synergize for this one job.” The elf paused before letting out a genuine and heavy sigh. “And you are going to have to trust me if we are to continue.”
I narrowed my eyes, refusing to respond, which elicited something of a ‘break’ in the man’s otherwise stoic visage.
“Look, Dreadwolf. I’ve lost a lot of men today. Good men, good women. Now I’m not gonna say that they were all saints. I myself have done a thing or two I’m not proud of. But we all came here for the same reason.”
“Gold.” I interjected.
“That I do not deny.” He nodded. “But if it were just about the gold, I doubt we’d have come. Because it’s one thing to earn gold, it’s another to live to see the next day to spend it.” He spoke calmly. “The others who came before us were forced by honor and duty. But us mercs? We get to choose our battles. So what does it say when a company chooses a job with a near guarantee of death?”
“Either desperation or some misguided foolishness, I suppose.”
“If you were a cynic or a realist, yes… but there’s more to life than the stories of the foolhardy and desperate.” He countered. “Because for every chapter regaling the exploits of some shortsighted troupe, there exists another detailing the stories of those just trying to do the right thing.” He paused, making sure to make direct and uninterrupted eye contact all the while. “I can tell you’re good people, Dreadwolf. Honest people, just like the people we’re trying to save. So whatever your story is, let’s just put that aside so that right here, right now, we can save those lives.”
“Where I come from, Captain… trust is earned through action, not a heartfelt speech or a spot of small talk.” I spoke sternly, planting my foot down with neither a growl nor a grumble. “But I appreciate the sentiments. So with that being said, let’s cut to the specifics. I’m assuming we’ll be filling in for those souls you lost, correct?”
“Observant.” Ignalius acknowledged solemnly. “But yes, the men I lost were some of my best forward scouts. This is what I’ll need your aid with. Because the plan is simple. Over here is a legendary enchanted artifact, a net capable of ensnaring and incapacitating even dragons.” He pointed at the recently completed net. “We will be deploying it at the mouth of the cave… or shall I say, the soon-to-be mouth of an otherwise sealed-off cavern.” He announced proudly. “The artifact is invisible until triggered, so your job is to enter the dragon’s lair and simply route it to said opening.”
“So bait.” I surmised with a growl.
“I can see why you might think so, but I assure you this is nothing of the sort. You see, bait is most often defenseless and without agency. You… and your golem will be acting more like shepherds, corralling the beast where we need it to go, and using whatever means and abilities you deem fit to accomplish said goals.”
I narrowed my eyes at the man, who proved both increasingly forthright and somehow squirmy at the same time.
“And if we kill the beast in the process?” I drilled.
To which the man, surprisingly, merely shrugged. “If it must be done, then so be it. All for the safety of the land, after all.”
“Hmmph.” Was my only response, following which, I turned to Emma and nodded. “Right then, how long until the front gates are open?”
“Five minutes, give or take.” The shatorealmer responded, craning her head up from her supervising post.
“In the meantime, why don’t you quickly get acquainted with the team over some cheese and crackers?” Ignalius suggested, gesturing to one of the squires handing small rations of bite-sized morsels to the dwarf-led group in question.
“Right, might as well.” I shrugged, heading over to the group who looked not too pleased at our arrival.
“Let me guess, our dear Captain is going to split the spoils with you lot as well, then?” The dwarf began, shaking his head in the process.
To which I only had a blunt reply in response. “No.” I stated simply. “We’re here for its crystals.”
“Ah. Poachers.” An elf quickly added, standing a good few heads taller than his chief.
“You can call me whatever you like, but we’re just here to finish a job. The name’s Dreadwolf. Dreadwolf Steelpaw.” I reached out a hand.
The dwarf took a moment to regard it before completing the gesture under a frustrated grumble. “Greer. Greer the Brave.” Though he was quick to pull back the moment I dropped my grip. “This here’s Puri, my second in command.” He gestured to the elf.
“A-and I’m K-Katiya—”
“The Coward.” Several voices in the group interjected, completing the skittish Baxi’s introductions for her over a round of dismissive laughs.
“That’s enough pleasantries. You know the plan, yes?” Greer questioned bluntly.
“Coralling the dragon towards the entrance?”
“Yup. Simple enough for a rich kid like you not to screw up, aye?”
“I’d appreciate if we didn’t start out at each other’s throats, Greer.” I moved to tower over the dwarf, crossing my arms as I did so.
However, as soon as I did so—
THOOOOMF-SHKK-CRAASSHHHHHHH!
—the front door had conveniently opened.
We shot each other a glare just before Ignalius clapped his hands loudly, garnering everyone’s attention. “Scouting party, move in! Trapping team, let’s get that net rigged up! Everyone else, hold fast, our moment is upon us!”