Table of Contents

1. Personae Dramatis
2. Chapter the First, Section the First (Jeff Neufeld)
3. Chapter the First, Section the Second (Doug Stich)
4. Chapter the Second, Section the First (Oliver D. Bernuetz)
5. Chapter the Second, Section the Second (Nelson Bourdon)
6. Chapter the Second, Section the Third (Jeff Neufeld)
7. Chapter the Third, Section the First (Oliver D. Bernuetz)

Credits

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Personae Dramatis Return to TOC
(in order of appearance)

Teach
Chalky's fingers
Chalky's hand
Throgmorton (briefly)
a much-reduced squad of raw recruits
One Tooth
Hobo
Smoker (The Company Captain)
92nd Crowbait (briefly)
Clap-Catcher, Wizard ordinaire
Shoehorn
a bunch of dragons
Half-a-Lung (Commander: 43rd Drekgoons)
E.D. Bower (Commander: E.D. Bower Scouts)
Troll Foot (ig-bay but not noted for ight-bray)
Bully Boy and Pooch Lover (Wonk victims)

mentioned but not met (and a few other names to be kept track of)

Oculus Singularis (Cyclopean Lich-lord)
Demon-spawned mage lord (from 5th empire?)
Wormfood Heavy Infantry
Dogmeat Heavy Cavalry
Daisy-pusher Magic Brigade
Dread Dragon Lord in Biscatti Province
Crusty Brotherhoods:
a) Gravediggers Brigade
b) Bloodbath Brigade (that's us!)
Nancy-boy (Bloodbath Brigade Lieutenant and top wizard)
wandering swarm of demon-spawn

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Chapter the First, Section the First (Jeff Neufeld)

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In which the reader is introduced to several of the characters that figure (albeit briefly) in this story.

Teach blinked the dust from his eyes and peered over the stock of his arblzooka.   Debris, in the form of body parts and masonry and good-sized bits of mountains, was still raining down from the last series of explosions but from what he could see, the Legion of the Damned, their master Oculus Singularis, his castle and the medium-sized mountain all the aforementioned had been standing on had been turned into a good sized crater. Teach could only hope that the slippery cyclopean lich-lord had not managed yet another of his last minute escapes.

Meanwhile, the 'rain' had stopped. Teach judged the noise level had also dropped enough that it would be safe to remove fingers from ear. Reaching up he plucked the fingers from his ears and moved to cast them aside. Here he paused and gazed reflectively at the fingers. They had been Chalky's fingers and Chalky had been one of the old guard, a pal from the times they had soldiered in the lands of the Calamari. You could always trust Chalky and his fingers had proved to be just as reliable in a tight spot. Now reverently, he placed the fingers back in Chalky's hand (all that was left of Chalky after the last series of assaults and explosions). It was touching gestures like this that made the company what it was, a band of brethren, rather then the motley collection of cannon fodder people took them for.

Teach's gaze turn outward and he took stock of the present situation. Dead men and bits of dead men lay stacked and scattered like bodies on a battlefield. Just at his feet lay Throgmorton. Poor Throgmorton had learned the hard way how difficult it is to defend yourself when you use your own fingers to plug your ears. Teach sighed. Rookies, they just don't learn or they learn the wrong things. Still some always survived to become vets, and perhaps their was some hope for the survivors of his squad. He called his motley collection of raw recruits to order and counted noses. Five on the ground meant that four must still be attached to the standing and sure enough, four of his original squad stumbled to attention. Powerful stuff this mathematics.

Pausing only long enough to salute the fallen, Teach then led his motley squad off to the command post in the hopes that someone there could tell him what to do next.

Chapter the First, Section the Second (Doug Stich)

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The road to the battered pus-yellow portable gazebo that the brotherhood was currently using as a headquarters passed over the blasted remains of the 927th Wormfood Heavy Infantry. Arriving at the tent, Teach snagged a chair and pulled up to the lopsided card table.

"Deal me in."

One Tooth was dealing. He flashed his namesake and tossed a quintet of cards to Teach.

"How did your squads do?" asked Teach. One Tooth just shrugged. No survivors then. Hobo spat then replied.

"Bought half."

Business being complete - the three brothers got down to serious play ignoring the occasional passing messenger. They took turns alternately fleecing the surviving recruits at the company game - Wonk. Two hours later the Captain, Smoker, emerged from the tent.

"Just got word" Smoker began without preamble, "One of the Dread Dragon Lords has raised his standard down in Biscatti province. Promised the locals freedom from the Empire. Got a couple companies of dragon cav and about fifty thousand of the usual provincial troops. Official Command has send twenty regiments of Wormfood heavies, five of the Dogmeat heavy cav and some auxiliaries. Supposed to get two of the Daisy-Pusher magic brigades, but the dragons will probably pick those pansies off on the way in."

"Killing his way through those will probably keep the Dragon Lord busy." Teach drawled as he drew a card. "Who's going to handle it?" Of course it went without saying that Official Command would never be able manage on their own.  One of the Crusty Brotherhoods would have to do the dirty work.

"We are," Smoker answered, "Actually you are. Take One Tooth and Hobo with you."

"Shit" grumbled One Tooth looking over his hand. "My feet is sore - why ain't the Gravediggers got it. They's down that way anyway."

"Cause the Gravediggers are dealing with that demon-spawn Magelord that some dang fool dug up while looking for Fifth Empire artifacts," sniped Hobo as he played out on One Tooth's discard. "Plus with the carnage here - we will be officially unaccounted for for months before Official Command decides the Bloodbath Brigade is still alive. That means we can do it our way."

"Fifth empire - hell that was what, twenty seven, twenty eight empires ago. How tough can that dusty old carcass be?" One Tooth seemed about to launch into full debate.

"Can it." Smoker was in no mood for complaints. "Teach, we got a new name-brother. One of Mundane's boys got his sword stuck in someone's leg. He managed to cut the leg free and proceeded to carve up the better part of ogre skeleton brigade with a boot stuck to his sword. The men have taken to calling him Shoehorn. I want you to take him along for seasoning."

Teach nodded. Soldiers were soldiers - they made good people, reasonable troops against mundanes but worth their weight in hamburger when major magic starts to fly. But the Crusty Brotherhoods were different. A baker's dozen of troops older than dirt with some ancient magic clinging to them like a bad smell. Give your soul to the your Company, spend your life wading hip-deep in blood and gore, kill endless opponents and somehow you acquire the ability to pass alive - usually - through earth-scorching magics. Not unhurt mind you, just alive. And the closer you came to living up to the wise-ass attitude, bad news, mayhem spewing reputation of the company, the stronger the protection. The closest became name-brothers, vets - that core of twenty to fifty men who could boast of surviving multiple battles with death tolls in the millions, shielded by the magic of the Stereotype.

"Right," said Teach. "We'll need to gather some new recruits for our squads.  I'll need a spell-slinger too."

"Talk to Nancy-Boy," offered Smoker, naming the Brigade Lieutenant and top wizard. "The 92nd Crowbait Light Infantry is passing by on its way to slaughter in Bisecetti. Attach up with them and get started on whittling down Dragonboy's troops. The rest of the Brigade will be along in a week or so."

"What - taking a vacation whilse we do the hard work?" One Tooth wasn't quite done complaining.

"Snot-for-Brains found a bolt-hole. If we can catch old Oculus Singularis without his legions we might be able to bury him for a good long time."

One Tooth shut up. The Stereotype worked for the Other Guys too. Be bad enough and you could walk away from the crater your enemies had created in your honor.  About the only way to plant Oc Sing for sure was for some of the name-brothers to catch him alone and go mano-a-licho. Unfortunately, that was one way even a
name-brother could buy it. 

"That's why we get paid the big gold." quipped Teach as he gathered up his winnings. "Come on you two, these guys are about cleaned out anyway."

The next morning when the 92nd Crowbait broke camp it was forty men stronger.  Teach always liked to recruit up to strength from the shattered dregs of broken units. You were more likely to find potential that way.

Chapter the Second, Section the First (Oliver D. Bernuetz)

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From his vantage point of just far enough away Teach watched the 92nd Crowbait slogging along the main road south looking for all the world like the big bunch of incompetent targets they were.

Clap-catcher, the wizard assigned by Nancy-boy had made a big production out of waving his arms about muttering impressive sounding things and conducting a seemingly impressive ritual before they'd all left the previous morning.  He'd even wanted to sacrifice a virgin but he'd been much too picky to find one that he would use.  Teach shook his head, sure Clap-Catcher was casting spells of misdirection and confusion but the Crowbaits couldn't really believe he could cover more than say forty or fifty people did they?  Oh well, that's how you learn not to believe everything you hear - by sucking back some dragon flame.   Unfortunately that's a hard lesson to survive.

His reverie was interrupted by the new name brother Shoehorn running up, his special sheath that allowed room for the boot stuck to his sword slapping his thigh as he ran.  He skidded to a stop sketched a sloppy salute and said rather breathlessly, "Sir, One Tooth r..." 

Whatever else he had to say was drowned out by the peculiar whooshing sound stooping dragons make, the sound of two hundred and seventy-two 92nd Crowbaiters screaming in unison, the battle-cries of angry dragons, the sound of dragonflame and maybe the sound of human screams.  It was kind of hard to tell over the enormous crackling bonfire sounds.

Peeking over the edge of the conviently placed ditch once it was quieter Teach picked himself up dusted himself off a bit and held up a hand, "No wait, let me guess, incoming dragons?"  All Shoehorn could do was nod ashen-faced as he looked at the devastation that used to be the 92nd Crowbait.   Then the wind changed and the stench of burning human flesh swept over them.

"That's lunch then." said Teach.

Chapter the Second, Section the Second (Nelson Bourdon)

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One Tooth approached the camp with Clap-Catcher, he knew that if he approached the Captain without a plan then he would have to grab another brigade and head South again. Chasing camp whores and drinking was far more appealing.

'Go into camp and disappear Clap-Catcher, I don't want lots of people to know we're around.'

One Tooth mused as he entered the camp, 'There are two ways out of this mess, lying or cheating, mmmm, make that three, I can do both.' One Tooth knew that he likely could find a sucker at the continual wonk game.

He had good coin now after he and Clap Catcher had taking a few moments to strip the dead of their singed belongings, good thing silver didn't burn. Well maybe not lots of coin but enough for a stake. Now I just need the right marks at the game.

Sure enough Half-a-Lung was at the wonk game, he was the laziest member of the company. He was commander of the 43rd Drekgoons. Speculation was that he only used half a lung at any one time because using two was too much work.  He was also slow and unobservant, a perfect mark. One Tooth joined the others at the table. Across from him beside Half-a-Lung sat E.D. Bower himself, leader of the E.D. Bower Scouts. The Scout brigade was exceptional at sneaking and hiding, particularly if they were sneaking away from battle or hiding from leaders. The whole crew had learned lots of lessons. Very likely they would be tough in battle if you could get them there. Nobody could remember the last time that the actually fought. But boy did they look
resplendent in their matching E.D. Bower Scout-wear. Actually the whole crew looked a little light in the loafers, made worse by their reputation for being masters of pedestry. One Tooth loathed E.D. Bower and it didn't help that he was sharp at wonk. It would take some doing to cheat with him at the table, unless of course he was in on it. One Tooth didn't have time to mend fences and form an alliance, and the cost would have been too high anyway.  'I'll have to use deception or distraction to screw Half-a-Lung.'

The game progressed and finally Half-a-Lung had a decent hand. It looked like he was going to bet heavy. Bully Boy and Pooch Lover called.  Half-a-lung said 'Fold or call dickless.' One Tooth stalled he needed to get E.D. Bower distracted somehow. Troll-Foot hand was holding a blushing bride but Half-a-Lung had him beat with a thrust. One Tooth only had a pair of Nickles and some dross, if he could only get the three nickels out of his sleeve he would have a quintet and be able to clean up. But first he had to raise the stakes, money was not the object of this round. While he was stalling and praying to the Sloth God for a distraction he though he heard a sound other than the roar of fire that was still rumbling in his ears. It was a miracle he heard it, proof that he did worship the true Gods. Approaching the camp still far away was a messenger Valkerie.

'Holy shit! What the Hell is that coming" One Toothed yelled as he stood and pointed behind E.d. Bower and Half-a-Lung. Every one except Troll-Foot followed his arm, Troll foot ignored the gesture as he was totally engrossed with his meaty index finger which was up his right nostril to the second knuckle. One Tooth quickly withdrew his arm adroitly slipped the nickels out of his right sleeve, and discarded the dross. Now he was ready to bet.

"It's only a valkerie you bozo. " Sneared Pooch Lover as the others sat down.

"I thought it was dragons" One Tooth said as he raised Half-a-Lung.   Half-a-Lung's eyes gleamed as he anticipated a kill and raised everything he had. Pooch Lover folded as did E.D. Bower, Troll-Foot was in. One Tooth pulled out a pouch of silver and emptied it on the table. "I'll raise you this" Half-a-Lung's face went pale, he knew he had a winning hand but he was short of funds.

Suddenly E.D. Bower said " Give me a piece of the action, I'll bet with Half-a-Lung" after E.D. got a look at his cards.

"Piss off. You can't do that!" screamed One Tooth, taken by surprise by the move.

"This says I can" replied E.D. producing a nine inch dirk which suddenly appeared at One Tooth's throat.

"Let me reconsider" One Tooth stammered. He thought quickly, both his opponents had been losing heavily so they couldn' have much . One tooth wanted them well over their heads. " OK your both in. But I am opposed in principle." The dirk disappeared.

" We'll make a note of that ." growled E.D. as he emptied his pockets and raised, Half-a-Lung looked relieved and pleased. Troll-Foot looked pissed but folded without a word, he wasn't spoiling for a fight. One Tooth pulled out two more pouches and emptied them on the table. " I'll raise you again."

Half-a-Lung looked astonished, " Where did you get the loot?"

" I borrowed it from ninety close brothers in arms who won't be needing it for a while. Are you guys short perhaps?"

" So what if were are?", growled E.D. antagonistically.

" I have a proposal, take your money back and we'll call you even if you take over my orders if I win" The two looked dubious, looked at Half-a Lung's cards, looked at the heap of silver on the table, then at the cards and then at each other. Greed won as always.

"OK, its a deal, what du yah got." Slurred Half-a-Lung.

One Tooth displayed his wining hand, the pair groaned. " At least we didn't lose any money, how bad could this assignment be?" said Half-a-Lung.

"Shaddup" replied E.D.

One Tooth left the table to see the Captain. "That went well" he thought.

Chapter the Second, Section the Third (Jeff Neufeld)

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As he turned, One Tooth found himself face to face with the Captain. "Nice mis-direction there, One Tooth.  But didn't I send you south with Teach?"

[Background: 'Mis-direction?!'  One-Tooth starts to sputter.]

"Nevermind, it's his funeral if he can't keep you on a tighter leash.   Mis-direction like that is just the kind of thing we need down south against that Dragon-johnny."

[Background: Snickers start.  One-Tooth relaxes and grins.]

"Oh, and take those scouts with you."

[Background: Snickers and grinning stop.]

"Actually I noticed that you just traded assignments with E.D. so instead of you being in charge of him, that makes him in charge of you. Be sure to send me a report on how it all turns out."

[Background: Snickers start again with a distinctly malevolent undertone.]

The captain faces the crowd around the wonk table. "The rest of you lot can stop snickering. Nancy-boy and his gang have located Oculis Singularis.  Unfortunately, Oc managed to open up a worm-hole to one of the nether realms and demon-spawn are flooding the country-side. Nancy-boy has got most of that contained and is keeping Oc Sing busy but he's stretched. Most of his local levy has already been ground into hamburger, and imperial reinforcements are still a week away. We're moving out now to give him a hand."

"Half-a-lung, one swarm of demon-spawn got away from Nancy-boy and is headed for New Orlos. If they get there and feed-breed we got us a real problem. Take your drekgoons and stop them at any cost."

[Half-a-Lung does not look happy.]

The captain continues "You can take Troll Foot, Bully Boy and Pooch Lover along with you, but we got no mages to spare. You can always call on the city militia if you think they'll be any use."

[Half-a-Lung makes rude noises about how useful any of the previous would be.]

"and" the Captain continues to continue "you can take the company wonk table with you."

[All assembled make a semblance of moving to attention. Half-a-lung brightens. The company wonk table is the only object known to predate the company standard and had never been lost in battle, though occasionally had been lost in some rather sharply contested card games that had ended in battle.]

"One-tooth, E.D., you still here? Get your asses south and deal with that Dragon Lord and if you guys screw up again, well ... looks like I'm gonna need some volunteers to go through that worm-hole and plug it from the other side. Only way to stop it for sure you know. You catch my drift."

[Last shouted as One-tooth, E.D. and accompanying scouts move south at high rate. The company can move fast when they want to.]

"Ah, Clap-catcher, you still here as well? Hey, Half-a-lung, looks like you got some magical support after all."

[More rude noises.]

"Right then. The rest of us got cyclopean butt to kick so let's get down to business."

Chapter the Third, Section the First (Oliver D. Bernuetz)

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Teach wasn't sure whether he should be glad or annoyed. On the one hand One-tooth was out of his hair but on the other hand the only thing he'd had that had even remotely approached a mage was gone as well.  Who'd have thought that Clap-Catcher was as lazy as One-Tooth.  They'd had the initiative to loot the remains of the 92nd Crowbait while the rest of the troop was having lunch though, hadn't even waited until the bodies were cool.  Some people put an awful lot of work in being shiftless he thought.

"Shoehorn!" he yelled.

"Yessir!"

"Consider yourself my second now that that nameless spawn of inertia One-Tooth has buggered off with that miserable good for nothing, poor excuse for a mage Clap-Catcher."

"Thank you sir but what about Hobo!" said Shoehorn.

"Hobo's cut from the same sort of shoddy goods as One-Tooth.  In fact I'm surprised he didn't bugger off with him and Clap-Catcher.  No, Hobo's got a lot of skills but command isn't one of them.  You're second."

"Thank you sir!", he said snapping to attention.   "What are your orders?"

"First off stop saluting unless you're trying to get me killed.   Second, set a squad to clean up our picnic.  We don't want anyone to know we've been here.  Leave the Crowbait where they are, they might as well die up to their name.  After this mess is cleaned up we move south again."

The kid ran off, boot tipped sword flapping against his side.  Teach shook his head, kids they have such enthusiasm for life until they either die or learn better.  Teach sat and smoked his pipe while the men cleaned up the campground.   He wondered just how he and forty men, the best of whom was a kid with a boot stuck to his sword, were going to take care of a Dread Dragon Lord, two companies of dragon cavalry and fifty thousand provincial troops.  Oh well, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

This mess is ©1999 a bunch of people.   It's not Glen Cook's fault...really.  Last messed with November 09, 1999.   Back to toc