Part 5: Chapter 4.1: Lycanthrope Oblige

Holy snap, I published the last one how long ago? I blame Saints Row IV (which I had to play) and Europa Universalis IV (in which I still suck 27 hours in). Anyways, the rest of Chaper 4 will appear here posthaste. Between this and my fanfic, this is going to be a creative weekend. If you have some questions/suggestions about my LPing (besides, you know, "could you be faster?"), feel free to leave them in the comments.

Chapter 4.1: Lycanthrope Oblige



The siege of Lichopolis continued. Well, it wasn't much of a siege: Dremer warriors never left their post while King Lich V threw (mostly ineffectual) bolts of magic at the Dremer gate which responded in kind. As far as sieges go, this was uneventful, unsiege-like and sorely lacking in goblin deaths.



It was so uneventful that they even had time to found a city. Mealburn was its name, which was decided after the gnome cooks got drunk on fermented goblin milk and burned dinner meant for the entire expedition. Lich King V had no objections over this name, partially because he was busy defending his capital and seat of power from extra-dimensional invaders.




Fortunately, there were forces to be thrown at the grinder... the heroic grinder of enemies for the defense of the motherland, that is! A goblin company was placed on the shortest path to the capital to defend against possible enemy assaults. And the goblin hero was there to use his masterful (for a goblin) archery skills to harass the enemy from afar.



It was a better fate than the one that befell the archers in the south-west. While they were drunk fermented stale run-off from the nearest elven city – they had to celebrate the easy victory over the wild serpents – an ogre ambushed them. There was much carnage and brutal horror, and when the morning came, every last goblin was a red-green smear on the ground. The ogre was disappointed at how fast the entertainment went away and decided to go look for comfortable boulders and tree trunks to scratch his ass with.



And a similarly unfortunate goblin spearmen were facing foes up in the west northern expanse. First, they got mauled by bears, who appeared suddenly in trees, shrugged off a lot of spears and then went on their way, because bears were prone to random acts of violence.

Then the trees attacked them. People used to joke that goblin spearmen were so inept that their targets would sometimes overtake them and that some would goblin woodcutters would lose a fight to a spruce, but this were actual waking, malevolent trees. They assaulted the goblin survivors with leafy fury and their violence branched out far. Only a paltry few escaped.

And those ran into werewolves. Now, these weren't the noble werewolves that could be seen in a king's court discussing the strength of one royal bloodline or the other. No, these were just simple peasants, traders and followers turned by a bite from some other equally wild and uncouth werewolf, the dregs of the lycantropes society.

Their jaws spelled doom for the remaining goblins.



Back at the important places of the kingdom, the goblin archer hero – the king still hadn't dignified his presence by learning his name – got a helping of the Dremer gate fire. It was a clot of hot blood and generous in proportions, but most of it missed the hero – one goblin is significantly to target than a company of them. Still a good part still splashed and burned him. The smell would have hurt, too, were he not a goblin and used to thing not actually smelling good.



Usually, it's not easy to turn around a gnome caravan. Gonkeys are as stupid as they're stubborn and are best used by pointing them towards the destination and hoping there wouldn't be no ravines. Besides, you need to hit them on the noggin to make them stop, and for gnomes that is too much labor that doesn't end in beer or procreation. Sure, goblins are happy to use this method to guide the creatures – it also doubles as encouragement/punishment for goblin you or a sign that one of the parties in a goblin sex act is bored/satisfied – but nobody want goblins to be responsible for pretty much anything. Besides, their appetites don't bode well for all feed meant for gonkeys.

And gnomes, not usually the quickest folk to do something, don't really like changing momentum – this applies to both literal movement and to such nebulous things as “way of life”. So a gnome settler caravan only stops at night, or to eat, but really hates changing direction. It just plods forwards, leaving behind devastated country side, livestock bone piles and an occasional lost baby gnome.

Then again, spotting ogres on the horizon is one thing that helps them change their opinion – and direction. Ogres love eating gnomes – “fun sized” humans they call them – and gnomes somehow make worse warriors than goblins. This leads to the natural stratification of monster society, with a ruler/Grand Wizard being on the very top, werewolves making up the nobility, the middle class containing ratmen and gnomes, gonkeys being the underclass and only then come goblins. This also leads them to fear anything that looks at them funny.

So wagons were turned around, the obese gnomes – sent to the rear (maybe an ogre will get a stroke after eating a few) and the whole undulating mass of fat bellies, unkempt hair, greasy pots and baby poop started flowing the other way. Luckily for them, the ogres seemed to be more interested in the land of the elves.



“Holgen's Spell of No More Fun” was a peculiar thing. It served to protect one from melee attacks and was very useful in times were people had to deal with spontaneous invasions by bears and ogres. However, as it can be inferred from the name, it wasn't created for such end.

No, Holgen was a human wizard who had a pretty wife. Had her until the moment he saw her tied down in the stables and moaning with pleasure while a very confused stable boy whipped her. Of course, Holgen never really knew about the slightly deviant inclinations of his dearest: high wizards aren't the most attentive of lovers and even if he had known, it's unlikely that his wizards physique would have allowed him to carry out her wishes, what with fragile wrists and stick like arms. Anyways, as he huffed and hawed in anger, the wife left his tower and took the stable boy with him.

Furious, but unable to smite her as such is looked down upon in the wizard community, Holgen came up with a plan. If his former wife liked beatings, then there's an easy way to take that pleasure away! After all, a protection from melee spell wasn't a curse, in fact, it's an out right blessing! And nobody would know the exact details of, because people weren't as likely to discuss their sexual matters.

In the end, Holgen's former wife had no more ogrespasms (the finest scientific minds of the time thought the sound was similar) and her “curse” got her the envy of every abused husband, professional soldier and unruly child whose father was certain that famous educational quarry went “nature vs. leather belt”.



Never the less, the siege raged on. The gate would strike with their baleful power, the wizard tower would retaliate with clots of pure magic and the casualties were healed by medicinal herbs. At least the alien warriors weren't moving away from their position. The werewolves watched it from the balconies of their castle, supped on fine wine, discussed the horrors of war, made bad poetry about the destruction and even made a few passable oil paintings.

Among this slightly boring horrible carnage, a message came that the Elven king has destroyed some city. Nobody shed a tear since it was probably some independent human settlement, full of runaway peasants who dreamed of such foolish things as peace and freedom.



And then, a great day came.



"Noble werewolves are by no means the brainless animals that many people wrongly imagine them to be. They know everything that a well-educated, modern werewolf needs to know: medicine, anatomy, chemistry, astronomy, cooking and several anti-flea remedies."
(From the collected works of His Majesty's Advisor).

Tower doors flew open and in marched Avgustus fon Wolfhenze, followed by members of his court.
“M'lord, King Lich V” he said, bowing as low as werewolf could “let me present you this gift and proof of the werewolf nobility's willingness to aid with building the greatness of thine kingdom”.

“I accept thee, noble Avgustus, and await to see the full extent of your idea” said Lich, amused that finally something interesting and intelligent was happening in his kingdom.

“Behold, my liege, the Lupus Militia” said the old werewolf as he and his entourage stepped aside to let those following them pass.

Oh, and what a sight that was! Young werewolves, standing shoulder to shoulder, marching in perfect formation. Great muscles moved under skin and fur, light armor, specially tailored for their physiques, gleamed in the magical light of the tower, sharp pierced air as surely as they would cut flesh and bone, sending mysterious shivers down the onlooker's neck.

“These are the fine young werewolves, volunteers one and all, that I trained myself. While not exactly experienced, lacking their first test in blood, they are set to be consummate warriors. Werewolves fear little and any wound that doesn't kill us will heal in short order. And we have no need to maintain weapons, for our claws are the only weapon we need, never breaking and possessing the rare and mysterious power to rend both body and soul. It is our greatest hope that we will be of assistance while dealing with these other worldly foes, whose skin deflects metal as one would rebuke the plea of a commoner!”

The king was impressed. Snarling wild werewolves tore apart a goblin company in the north while these were well trained, well fed and motivated civilized werewolves, easily under his beck and call. Also, while he was quite pleased with the slightly fuzzy nobles, the King was elated to see that they actually showed interest in defending his lands, and without crying/extorting privileges beforehand!

“Let it be known that from this day your sons and daughters will be the warrior elite of my kindom! No expense would be spared in outfitting them and no sacrifice of goblin lives will be too big to ensure that these wolves of mine would not perish without good reason. I welcome you and greet you, for you have truly shown the greatness of werewolf nobility!”

And many a joyful howl rang through the halls.