Mecanimus
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A Journey of Black and Red 198. Let's just get everyone
🕑 Added 2022-07-05 16:50:50 +0000 UTCA dazzled Bingle uses the dragon claw’s edge to cut the bars of his prison. He appears to be in a state of shock, to the extent that I must hold the severed metal rods before they fall on his face. A sense of wonder gives his face a more youthful air, reminding me of the first time we met. He gingerly returns the ‘liberated’ blade to its sheath, then holds it in front of him, looking lost.
I have John disperse the few robbers attracted by the commotion. We move back to the main entrance just in case Adler gets the brilliant idea to forget his plan and seal us in out of fear we triggered some sort of alarm.
Well, we did, or rather Alexander did, but he disposed of the response force. An operation is perfectly silent if there is no one left to listen, I always say.
“Should I… should I return it?” the godling asks with hesitation.
To my surprise, greed does not motivate him. Instead, I feel a sort of longing in his mind or perhaps a connection of sorts. Most peculiar.
“You should hang on to it,” I tell him.
“It is theft…”
“You can return it with the rest of the ingots, after we are done.”
“Ah? Oh, yes of course. In for a penny, as they say. Still.”
“Alexander, look at me,” I interrupt.
The man blinks and returns his attention to me. I do not resort to Charm this time. Power is a crutch, even more so because he is a man of conviction.
“The sword chooses the owner, sometimes.”
Amazement fills his traits even more. He looks so very young.
“Are you sure?” he breathes.
“My instincts say yes. Hold on to it, for now. I know the owners. I am sure they would not mind.”
“Wait. You do? Miss Delaney!”
“No time!” I reply as I move us forward. “We have a heist to finish, remember?”
“Oh, yes. Of course.”
Our steps carry us back to the earlier walls of gold. By the Watcher, we have filled entire crates and barely made a dent. I could melt it all for a twenty-feet tall statue of myself and still have enough to gold-plate my entire arsenal.
Hmm, there is an idea.
Wait, no, focus Ariane. I would never be that tastelessly gaudy. With haste and no small amount of excitement, we all return to the locomotive and even make a second trip. I judge that we have acquired at least one ton’s worth by the time the hulking form of the locomotive puffs back towards the wilderness, away from the violated fort and its oblivious guarding base.
The first stage of the operation is complete.
Not too bad. And no shot fired yet! Oh, the finale will be to die for. I can already see the glint of avarice in the eyes of the goons, the way their gazes linger on the sealed crates, the gears turning in their primitive minds. How much is their share? How much more would it be split twenty ways instead of forty? Split ten ways? Five? Who to trust? Decisions, decisions. Ah, I love this moment so much. Greed, passion, buried resentments fill the air with an enticing perfume of duplicity. Never have so many daggers been aimed at so many backs. In the middle of it, Adler moves from group to group, reminding them of their situation in a low voice filled with threats. The entirety of America will hound us within the next half a day, long before they can cross the border south as they likely plan to do. Only strict discipline will carry them to safety.
I have to give it to the man. He can certainly anticipate trouble. Mortal trouble, that is. He will find Alexander a much tougher nut to crack.
In any case, the train moves with as much speed as it can muster along the train line first east then south. We change paths several times in the hours before dawn. We are cutting it short by the time the black plated locomotive finally slows down into an abandoned maintenance track. We do not take part in the unloading. Instead, all three of us bid Bingle and his followers goodbye while we move towards the forest. It appears they will find a safe harbor among a pair of old warehouses while they wait for the night.
A whistle, and our nightmares emerge from the treeline with a proud Metis prancing at the front. She is… just a little larger than before the fae worlds, but nowhere close to the Herculean size she had taken there. Perhaps the aura of our world is still too thin. We are off without delay, riding towards a nearby elevation. I cast a message spell on a mirror I have without much hope and surprisingly find the amused face of Ollie, the leader of the Red Cabal.
“You found us?” I exclaim with surprise, “I thought we would have gone too far.”
“Isaac found the deed for the property on which the train waits, bought by Mr Adler only a few months ago. The proof has been temporarily hidden for your convenience, Ariane.”
“Very kind of him.”
“Yes, it certainly pays to have such a competent fling,” the red-hair replies, wiggling his eyebrows with far too much attitude for someone who used to barely reach my waist.
“Do not bring my personal life into a binglery, boy.”
“Yes, Ariane. We are a little west of your position by a small pond hidden behind a tall rock. Follow the forest trail and you will find us without difficulty. What do you intend to do next?”
I speak while we urge our nightmares on, the coming of the dawn pressing on our minds.
“It will depend on how Adler and Alexander’s interactions develop,” I tell the mage through the mirror, “Adler will try to move the gold one way or another, then head south to escape scrutiny. Or perhaps west. Perhaps he will hide the gold under crates of turnips in a caravan, who knows? Bingle will obviously object and I am not sure how the interaction shall play out.”
“Would it not be easier for our evil mastermind to simply kill Bingle and be done with it?”
“You would think that,” I reply, “especially because Alexander might inform the authorities about the thieves’, but I am not sure. Mortals consider the step-up between theft and murder as rather steep.”
“It most certainly is,” Ollie pointedly replies.
I wave his words away, belatedly remembering that he can only hear me. This mirror does not work on vampires.
“Adler may try to liquidate them, or he might try to take a hostage to enforce compliance and leave them tied to a tree. There could be a battle from which he disengages. I am unsure what will happen.”
“Do you want us to move closer and support them if the worst comes to pass?”
I consider his offer for a little while, but eventually decide to follow my instincts.
“No, that would be a Deus Ex Machina. Trust in the narrative. Bingle will get a chance.”
“Very well.”
Just as Ollie said, we reach the armored carriages with some time to spare and hunker down for the day.
I wake up around noon feeling restless. Ollie informs me that nothing out of the ordinary has happened yet. A scout reports that the train is mostly hidden, a large pile of snow hiding it from view. The mortals spent part of the morning hiding the tracks and now rest, exhausted. Not much happens until the middle of the afternoon. Suddenly, a firefight of immense intensity breaks the silence for a solid ten minutes. When the scouts return, they find a new train parked in front of the hidden one, empty.
The place is deserted.
Everyone has left.
***
The moment the sun sets and the Courtiers wake, we rush out. The pair of warehouses where the mortals rested stands empty, discarded cartridges littering the floor. We find a body dressed in stolen uniform and another wearing a leather duster — a new addition to the cast. I surmise he may have come with the train. Many of the doors are open with some crates dropped on the snow-covered ground, their golden content spilled. It appears everyone left in a hurry. I walk around to inspect the many footsteps heading out in many directions and stop, frowning. I taste the air. It feels wrong. Drained.
Empty.
“Boss?” Urchin says in English, “something ain’t right.”
“I feel it as well, miss Ari,” John says.
I take a deep breath, months of scheduling and projects disappearing down the drain in an instant. I can already picture the chest-high stacks of letters and documents I will have to send in the next few months. Ah, Bingle, you pointed me to Ako and now you point me to this. Why could you not direct me to a brand new strain of coffee beans next time for a change? By the Watcher. This is a disaster.
“Change of plans. Wait here I will bring our weapons.”
“Armor?”
“We do not have the time. If we are overwhelmed, I will cover you while you leave. I am confident I can achieve at least this much.”
I move as fast as I can, back to the armored carriages like the wind to grab some gear and then back again. Urchin’s knives, John’s axe and our guns soon find their sheathes and we leave, this time at vampire speed. In the distance, the fight resumes. I hear the cracks of gunfire, much weaker than expected. I hope we are not too late. I resist the urge to just grab the Courtiers and move faster. Soon, we arrive at the edge of a large clearing. A massive boulder occupies the center with a log cabin lodged at its top, next to a lone, scrawny tree. The cabin itself looks abandoned, perhaps a summer refuge for a hunter. For now, it is occupied by Felicia whose back we see from down here. Bill, Whisper, and Honore have taken cover around her perch and lay fire on the far side of the open area where I see a glint of metal. I would recognize those armors anywhere. Their wearers pop their bald heads out and return to cover on occasion. Mana hounds lie dead on the field with the last one hacked to death at Honore’s feet while in the middle of the clearing, Alexander battles a flying skeletal mage under the red glow of blazing pines.
It appears the dead world has invaded the new one. We are breached. As I watch, the skeleton casts a thin tongue of flame. Alexander takes a strange posture. The bands of arcane fire wrap around the dragon claw he holds in his hand before ending up absorbed. For a moment, the artifact appears almost… alive, then the light fades and it returns to being a sword. A shot echoes through the clearing, the bullet pinging against a powerful shield. The mage lets out a low hiss that sounds suspiciously like a snicker before weaving a new spell, this one crackling red.
The bastard is experimenting.
After what we did to them near Warsaw, I would have expected our foes to grow more cautious yet it seems arrogance is ingrained in them. Unless the Last City is not quite the last. That would be a terrifying prospect. Nevertheless, I believe some help might be acceptable. More importantly, I do not want the mage to escape. I will need its corpse.
“The plan is this. I will provide silver ammunition to the humans, meanwhile you two engage the skeleton mage. This one is rather weak but do not underestimate its fire magic. The most important thing is that it must not flee. Meanwhile, I will seal the space around here so it cannot steal too much life force. Any questions?”
“Can we use our full strength?” John asks.
“Yes. Survival is your priority. Use any means necessary.”
“Understood, boss,” Urchin replies.
“Then go.”
I rush and stop by Felicia’s side. She screams in fright.
“Calm down,” I interrupt. “I bring proper ammo.”
“There is a skeleton! And it flies! It flies! And I shoot it but it does nothing!”
“It has a shield, yes. What caliber do you use?”
“And those horrible beasts!”
Ugh, mortals. I smack her face between two gloved hands and use a smidgen of Charm to help her focus. Hm. She really does have a surprisingly long nose.
“Felicia, listen to me.”
“Yush.”
“What caliber do you use? For your rifle.”
“Fifty-eight.”
Dammit, one I do not have, of course. I regretfully, hesitantly, and with much trepidation, place the mortal-friendly rifle I picked in her waiting hands — against my better judgment.
“Use this and for the love of all you hold dear take care of it or you will wish the skeleton had gotten you, yes?”
“Thank you Miss Delaney! It looks amazing!”
“Use it and those bullets.”
“Can it kill this monster?”
“Maybe not but it will certainly feel it. Good luck!”
I drop back and move around the clearing, drawing a circle with Rose as I run. I could use my magna Arqa to trace it faster and quite likely win the battle instantly but that would make the story less exciting, and so I refrain. I tread the thin line between the best scenario and the most awful one, should some characters die horribly. I must exert caution, and so I keep an eye on the battle as it enfolds.
The skeleton’s mortal troops have not left their cover yet, so the action focuses on my Courtiers, Alexander, and the creature. The skeleton itself wears a rather simple robe over a metal armor designed to protect its gaunt frame. Golden filigree lines its arms and legs, forming hypnotic patterns while a circlet adorns its skull. Reddish light shines from the eye socket, following Urchin and John as they approach. He holds one of those life-capturing orbs in one hand and a hooked staff in the other, which he uses as a spell aide of sorts. It tries to pull vitality from the area and succeeds, but only to a limited extent. It appears the claw acts as an anchor, holding the life of the planet steady. The skeleton flies back when it turns out that John and Urchin have resisted the pull as well. Mortals would have simply died where they stood. The orb would have swallowed their life force.
Rather than charging in, John and Urchin simply walk to Alexander’s side, letting the tired godling catch his breath. It has been the second night of activity in a row for the poor dear. Moving in the snow is exhausting work. His shoulders heave as he gulps the cold air. The two Courtiers take place by his side, three men facing a flying monster. A hero, An enforcer, a rake. They look mighty fine like this.
The wind blows, and the light of the moon pierces through the fluffy snow clouds, adding a silvery sheen to the ice around the red-bathed arena the clearing has become.
“Gentlemen, a pleasure as always,” Alexander greets with a calm voice.
“You always bring us the best fights,” Urchin adds.
“It dies here,” John concludes.
“FREAAAAKSSSSSS,” the creature hisses.
While I rushed to complete the circle, the skeleton has descended, bony feet resting on the ice. Its voice sounds mechanical and alien, yet it speaks English with barely an accent. I understand the implication. The mages have been here long enough to learn from captives. It is not that they have not just arrived, we have just found them. Unaware of my worries, the four opponents face each other for the time-honored tradition of pre-battle insult hurling.
“FREAKS. WE TAKE YOU. WE LEARN. YOU FEED THE FORGES OF OUR NEW ASCENDERS.”
“The only thing I’ll feed you is three inches of steel,” Alexander retorts.
“And the only thing you’ll take is my daggers down your eye sockets,” Urchin adds.
John remains silent but that is enough. The skeletons is angry, and the battle is joined.
I do not intervene.
This is not my moment. I can feel the change in the air, the momentum of fate in the making. Equally importantly, Urchin’s aura has started pulsing. I have no other terms for that strange rhythm. He appears uncharastically angry as well.
The skeleton throws spells at the three fighters, who do their best to keep away from each other to make his task harder. Alexander moves with care, making sure to keep enough distance between himself and the foe to parry and absorb its spells — I did not even know it could be done. John dodges with a grace that belies his size. Sometimes, he uses the axe to throw chunks of ice at the mage, blocking fire spells and putting pressure on its shield, but it is Urchin who does the most. His knives clang against the shield without respite, testing it, pushing it blade after blade. He is untouchable. Bolts of electricity land on his longest knife which he plants in the ground before teleporting it back to his hand after the energy is absorbed. He dances around spears and flames, blocks red tongues of energy with crescent daggers. The skeleton mage understands that he is the main danger and focuses its attention on him. A mistake. In a single dash, John closes the distance and smashes the heavy blade against the transparent sphere, pushing the creature back into the waiting embrace of Alexander.
The godling slices beautifully. The blade ignores the shield and severs the bottom end of the monster's staff in a single strike. Energy destabilizes around its surface. With a shriek of rage, it lifts up the air, screaming more when bullets land on its renewed protections. The sphere dims a little. The mage is using vast amounts of energy, something I know the skeletons are loath to do. It will lose patience soon.
“FREAKS. WHY STRUGGLE? THE SUPREME ART IS BEYOND YOU.”
“Freak? That’s rich, coming from a talking circus curio,” Urchin replies.
The skeleton hisses and throws a wave of fireballs towards Felicia out of spite. I consider intervening but John surprises me by grabbing Alexander under the armpits and carrying back, thus allowing the godling to absorb the attack before it roasts his companions.
“YOU CANNOT TOUCH THE WORLD SOUL AND IT DOES NOT TOUCH YOU. FREAKS.”
A new wave of spells rushes out, aiming for the Vanheim rake who waltzes between them with vicious elegance.
“Calling us names because you can’t just snuff out like a dime candle. You are angry because we are not part of a system you dominate. It pisses you off when people don’t play by your rules.”
“SPEAK, FREAK. YOU WILL TELL ME ALL I WANT TO KNOW.”
Urchin’s bubbling aura keeps pulsing. He is no longer listening, even as he fights and even as more bullets keep coming after the skeleton. Even John has taken his rifle. Only Urchin remains to stand against the creature.
“I was abandoned and could not speak the tongue but I still found folks to trust, still found myself. It don’t matter to me that folks like you get pissed off. If I can’t win by your rules, why…”
Urchin’s aura shakes and contracts. Invisible bounds linking it back to its maker pull back in towards his heart. The aura reforms, stable. Independent. It belongs only to him now.
“I think I’m gonna cheat.”
Urchin jumps, an action I have taught him not to do. I believe I could see a smirk on the undead’s grim expression if it still had flesh. it creates a large ball of pure fire to release.
“No deal, chief.”
Urchin reaches and… the staff reappears in his hand.
The mage screeches in absolute dark rage at the violation. It roars a word of power and the staff hurls back towards its waiting hand with great strength. Such is the creature’s haste that it did not realize Urchin had left a small gift tied to its already damaged surface.
The powder charges explode. Inside the shield. I see an army fly off.
Ah, it pleases me to see the Vahneim grow like that. How devious! The mage screeches more as a wave of power pushes it back, flattening the snow and smothering a few fires. Urchin charges. The creature falls. It has had enough. A massive pull emerges from its gaunt body. All of its soldiers die in an instant, their bound lifeforms feeding the orb. Felicia gasps. She grabs for her chest.
Oh yes, it is my turn.
“Stubborn blade and clenching jaws
Upward strife and closing maws
You have come and found a guardian.
Full of wrath he has awaken”
My will spreads across the frozen earth, waking it up from its torpor. I feel a diffuse yet monumental sense of disapproval at the sight of the wound, only an imperceptible scratch to something as large as a planet but something that cannot be tolerated anyway. The world yawns and stirs, then stills again, silent, but awake. My aura is smothered. The Magna Arqa is allowed to expand as a courtesy, a temporary agreement that can be rescinded at any time. It feels fragile, unstable, like a man clinging to a cliff’s edge by his fingertips. Both John and Urchin stumble.
The effect on our foe is much greater.
A stupefied curse emerges from Urchin’s quarry when the deadly pull abruptly stops. The beast still tries to attack, expanding the orb’s remaining stored power.
“Mine now,” Urchin says, and the skeleton has no more tools.
Vanheim’s newest master lands on his opponent blades first. He sinks them in the creature’s eye sockets with cold glee, destroying part of the skull with its rage. Another hit cleaves through the gold-plated spine. More slashes follow. As tempting as it is, I cannot let him demolish our prize.
“That is quite enough,” I say in English.
Urchin stops and turns. I see something new in his eyes, a challenge. I understand it. I was drunk with power the first night I became a master as well, and so out of concern for him I temper my remark with a smile as I approach.
“It is already dead, Urchin. Before everything else, allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your ascension. We will have to celebrate properly when we return. This is one of the most important milestones for our kin, and not everyone can reach it. Well done. Truly, well done.”
It occurs to him that I have spoken the mortal tongue, a reflection of his earlier statement. He nods in appreciation. Later, we will revert back to Akkad as is proper, but for now it is his moment. I will let him enjoy it. I refrain from patting his back and calling him a worthy minion for now.
“Thanks, boss. What now though?”
“SPLENDID!” a voice interrupts.
“Now we let the protagonist return to the spotlight,” I whisper.
“Fantastic job, Mr Urchin. What a display! Masterful. We sure showed this horrible necromancer bastard did we not? Capital performance.”
“That we did, Mr Bingle, that we did. With the three of us and the support of the others, it did not stand a chance,” Urchin allows.
Everyone gathers around the golden corpse of the mage. A few cast a furtive glances at Urchin’s pilfered orb which he still holds.
“What horrible thing is this? Where did it come from?” Alexander asks, subdued by the sight of the remains.
“Our world is linked to another,” I explain, “portals can lead from and to it but it is a dead place populated by those creatures you saw, their slaves, and their beasts.”
“It almost killed me,” Felicia whispers. “I felt myself die.”
“They can drain the very life of everything around them, including the planet itself. I surmise they killed their world in their quest for power and immortality.”
“While we just had to get bitten,” Urchin whispers too low to be heard by the mortal.
I use a root to slap the back of his knee.
“Ow.”
“What are we going to do? We must inform the authorities!” Bingle exclaims, to the agreement of his companions.
“I will make sure it happens, in the meanwhile, you have other things to worry about, or have you forgotten?”
“Hmm?”
“The gold? Where is Adler? Where are his men? Must I remind you that you are wanted until we return it to its rightful owners? You will find defending mankind from within the walls of a penitentiary to be a challenging task.”
“OH! Right. We must head back!”
“Yes. You do that. I need to, ah, call this in. Urchin, leave the orb, thank you.”
While the group makes their way across the snow, Honore supporting a shocked Felicia, I turn and activate the mirror again. Ollie answers in record time and I leave him clear and detailed instructions on what to do and who to contact. The team must recover the bodies, preferably before they freeze. The orb must be kept at all cost, as do the remains of the mage. The Accords will be notified immediately. I fully expect Constantine himself to ride here through the nightmare world. We have found Pandora’s box opened and its content already spread across the floow, and now the world must be informed. Ugh. By the Watcher, there will be so much to do.
With that issue addressed for now, the time has come to return to our current binglery. I race back after the mortals as they trudge through the snow. Bill has lit a lantern he must have found somewhere. As I approach, Alexander starts recounting the events of the day.
“We awoke when a new train moved in. I knew something was wrong when the person who left it was no other than Judge Zakarias Ramsey, of Ortonville! The very same I was trying to stop! Adley and him were working hand in hand from the very beginning!”
“How dreadful…” I say.
All three of us vampires exchange a knowing look.
“Miss Delaney! Thank you for saving Felicia earlier. Urchin informed me we had you to thank. You will never believe what shocking development just occurred! We were betrayed by Adler of all people!”
“Truly, who can we trust in these dark times?”
“Very few people… but I can trust you to help me render justice as a champion of good. Or at least I hope so, because I confess to being awfully unprepared. As I was saying, I recognized this sinister character as soon as he stepped down the train. We barricaded the door to our separate space and shot a man before they could assault us. Thankfully, those ruffians lacked in courage what they had in number. None of them dared to challenge Felicia’s marksmanship.”
“Markswomanship,” the interested party mutters from the side.
“... and so it seemed we had reached an impasse. Rather than siege us, the feckless cowards attempted to unload the more conspicuous armored train to transfer their ill-gotten gains to a more generic carriage,” said the man who had committed the ill-getting to begin with.
“When suddenly, a dark apparition came with the twilight, a flying skeleton! A nightmarish creature that…”
He suddenly calms down.
“That you saw and therefore do not need further descriptions on. But by jove, what glorious moment it shall be when I write it in my memoirs.”
“Alexander, please. What happened then?”
“Oh yes. Some men ran, some prayed, some shot at it. We ran away from its presence when it killed a goon with a single wave of its accursed hand! The creature followed, and I realized it was corralling us, leading us into a trap. Fortunately, I felt a call from the sword — and I shall never forget your advice to take it with us or we would have all died or worse. Drawing the blade, I was able to keep the creature at bay while my heroic companions fought off its damned servants. As for Adler, Judge Ramsey, and their men, they ran! The lily-livered poxy cowards!”
A thought finally occurs to him.
“I hope they did not double back and leave with the gold. That would be a disaster.”
I stop myself from swearing. Now that he has said the word, it is as good as done.
When we arrive at the warehouses, the smaller train is gone. Of course. Bill goes into a long tirade of insults while Honore and Whispers curse the vile enemies. Sadly, without magic to make them tangible.
“We could use the larger train, perhaps?” Alexander says.
“Unfortunately, I see two problems. First, we will be relentlessly shot at and probably stopped on sight by every law enforcement agencies this side of Lake Ontario. Second, they have sabotaged the coal container.”
“What?”
I point at the small car following right after the massive locomotive. Before departing, someone has unlocked a side panel and now the heat-producing dark entrails have splilled over the ground and tracks, frozen like a day-old kill.
“Curse them! Are we without recourse?” our hero bemoans.
I rake my mind for a believable solution. Technically, I could summon the most recent iteration of the Dalton’s Fury and have it here in two hours since I requested it be on standby, but that would be an overkill and godlings tend to dislike those. Or I could —
“Did you hear a horse?” Honore suddenly says.
I feel her come through the edge of the woods. I turn, aghast, and here she is wearing her chain barding. Metis. John’s monstrous steed comes to a stop by her side, clad in full plate while Urchin’s agile mount saunters to the side. More nightmares join them. Younger ones, I feel, not yet fully comfortable with their new forms. Their crimson eyes go back and forth to inspect the strange structures and mechanical contraptions of this world. I count five new flesh-eating steeds.
“What is this?” I hiss at the dread beast. “Bring your foal to work night?”
Metis tilts her head, the very picture of equine innocence.
“Just because we have no other option…” I whisper.
Ah, what a mistake. No sooner have those words crossed my lips that she points her greedy snout at the pouch by my side, where I keep some emergency supplies.
“And you want caramelized pig ears as well?”
A neigh.
“To all of them? This was YOUR idea!”
“Are those the famed horses of the cursed hunters?” Alexander roars in a voice that the entire valley might hear, “I learned about them from the mouth of uncle Nathan himself! What a privilege to see them in the flesh. Can we count on those noble mounts to pursue the evildoers?”
Metis points more insistently and I realize I have to tolerate this… this moonlight robbery! Why is it always me bankrolling those silly expeditions? Eight ears cost at the very least a full dollar! Ugh! I should keep a gold ingot to cover my fees. I mutter curses at the cutthroat negotiators and pray to the Watcher no one important will see me get outmaneuvered by a damn overgrown pony.
Eight ears it is.
The nightmares take their due, then each one walks to a rider. Felicia touches her mare with a sense of childish wonder while Bill and Alexander gush over theirs, admiring their impressive shapes. Honore whispers words in kreole I cannot understand but it is Whispers’ reaction that surprises me the most. He pats the head of his chosen companion almost tenderly. After five minutes of bonding, we climb on their backs one by one. I feel a small amount of vindication when the mortals appear a little confused, and I decide to take full advantage of it.
“First, I would like to insist that this is an unprecedented honor you are given, so be sure to appreciate every second of it. Second, ladies and gentlemen… welcome to the hunt. WE RIDE!”
“Wait… they have no saddles? Are we really—”
And we are off.
Comments
RonGAR
UrChin Comes through for the WIN!!! My boy is growing up. A Master now! 🙌🏼 Ahhh Metis. Committing a moonlit robbery against our Lady. LOLOL Practically saying give me carmalized ears or I'll leave you here! LOLOL But seriously... where did those horses come from? And how are nightmares made? The old fashion way or some other way unbeknownst to man? Now all those nightmares are spoiled for pig ears. LOL.
Venalitor
“No, that would be a Deus Ex Machina." - You mean like the Accords leaving a sword critical to the world's fate in a vault guarded by a bunch of bumpkins with almost no extra security? Yeah. Someone had to have known the sword couldn't be anywhere else for it to be there. I love Ariane when she's administrating a Binglery. I also love how fate and such has been worked into the novel to give a good excuse for someone of her power to act behind the scenes and not be part of the action, while preserving the action.
Jeanean
Ah, the Bingle adventures are always fun! I hope the Dragon claws stays in the family, because even Nirari himself won't get away unscathed if confronted with a Bingle with a magic eating sword!
WickedlyDesigned
Rupert management is a term coined by Terry Pratchett, in Monstrous Regiment, where officers are referred to as Ruperts (implied to be highborn city folk with the practical abilities - and usefulness - of your average china cup), and it is usually the sergeants that need to steer them to avoid disasters.
Mecanimus
She even brought her homies. No mercy.
Mecanimus
Rupert management?
WickedlyDesigned
Hmm... I just had a startling realisation: binglery, from the viewpoint of Ariane is basically just Rupert management elevated to an artform...
Joel Bullock
Damn it be your own horse can't trust any of these greedy hoes
Mecanimus
And thank you for being here.
Mecanimus
Not for everyone but personally I love it.
Mecanimus
And thanks for the support ;)
Mecanimus
I enjoyed writing the Urchin part a lot.
Mecanimus
My pleasure as always.
Mecanimus
I try ;)
Mecanimus
I limit the tropes by chapter to three or four. ;)
Leviathon251
I love those book. Thankyou
Adam Davies
The plot threads weaving together through utter binglery is exceptionally satisfying.
Thomas Payne
Thanks!
Isley
good chappie
Andrew
Thank you!
Lazy Lemon
epic
Young Youghurt
Oh man this such a missed opportunity for minecart chase in some abandoned goldmine. You know in the true spirit of adventure. Minecart chase > Nightmares hunt - Last words of Papa Palpatin before he was burned as a heretic
