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
***********
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
***********
Chapter the First, Section the First (Jeff Neufeld)
Return to TOC
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)
Return to TOC
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)
Return to TOC
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)
Return to TOC
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)
Return to TOC
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)
Return to TOC
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
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