Butcher of Gadobhra Chapter 208 Rough Draft (Patreon)

"Can't do it. And before you ask, it's because we are a White Circle. Using part of someone to track them isn't White, grey at best and probably Black. That's part of his breath in there, stolen by a sentient windstorm." Titania wasn't happy telling Suzette ‘No', but she wasn't going to shatter the circle. She'd been an outcast too long to want to go back to that. "There are other ways."

Suzette was too tired to be angry. She wasn't sleeping well, and all of her old nightmares were back. Sleeping next to Ozzy kept them at bay. "Tell me about the other ways then."

Titania considered her next words carefully. "Do you know what a hag is?"

Suzette snorted. "Yes. It's someone who wants to get her hands on my boyfriend more than she wants to eat the porkchops he brings her every morning. I've known what Jenny is for a long time, and her guests popped up on my radar as soon as they joined the town. I have three hags living in town, and I can form a "Hag Hollow" if I wanted to. Whatever the hell that is.

"Oh." Titania hadn't really thought about how much a mayor might know about their town. She'd destroyed towns, but she'd never run one. "Well, a Hag Hollow is like a circle of witches, only with Hags. They form a pact between them, and agree to work together. Hags are fiercely territorial. If they form a Hollow, it keeps things under control and they can agree on how to use their pooled powers. Jenny might be willing to go look for Ozzy. It's worth talking to her. But I'd send your courier instead of you."

Suzette was curious about that. "Why, I'm the Mayor."

Titania sighed for a long time. "You also have a temper, and like you said, Jenny has her eye on Ozzy. I don't trust the two of you to talk about him without problems. And before you start in complaining, you have to understand it isn't Jenny's fault. She's just following her instincts. Hags are attracted to males with certain qualities. Ozzy is like a magnet to her. He's big, strong, has a dark aura that's appealing to creatures like her, and he smells like meat and would be a good provider. Jenny has to eat ten pounds of raw meat and fish a day. Less than that and we learn firsthand why hags are feared."

"If you go to talk, she'll be talking with a rival. If Ben goes, then she'll feel like helping to get Ozzy back. If she asks for a favor, know that by paying her, you bind her to service. That's a good thing."

Suzette handed the older women the bottle. "Can you do me a favor? Go tell all that to Ben. If I should stay out of it, I should start right now. And lord knows I have more than enough to occupy my time. Georges needs me up at the new fort all day today and tomorrow."

Titania smiled. "I can do that for you honey, no worries. And I can help you with your chores too. Take the twins with you. They're bored right now and need a project. They work well together and both can carve runes if you show them what you need done."

Ben knocked politely on the door, and was surprised when the young woman he'd seen a few days ago answered. "Greetings miss, we met the other day. My name is Benjamin. Would miss Jenny be around perchance?" The girl looked him up and down, licked her lips, and then smiled at him. "Sure, come on in and sit for a while. I'll fetch Jenny, she was down by the river catching some carp for dinner."

By 'fetch', the young hag meant 'yell out the window'. "Hey, Fish breath! Some handsome fellow here to see you. Best come quick before Gorpy cooks him inside of a pie or I drag him off to my bag."

Ben eyed the door, but held his ground. Jenny arrived a minute later with a string of fish she dropped into a bucket. An older woman was behind her. She pulled cookies from the over, tested them, and then set the pan on the rack. She looked over at Ben and froze, just staring and quivering. Jenny elbowed her in her ribs. "Knock it off. You touch him and you'll end up a burnt cinder."

Granma Gorpunkle shook her head and took a deep breath. "I'm not going to hurt a hair on the poor boys head. I just worry if he's afflicted by so many bad dreams."

Jenny sat down across from Ben. "So, what's up, courier boy? I've been good all the time I've been in town and I've been making sure these two are as well."

Ben sat back and smiled at her. "Indeed, and the town has no complaints about you at all. In fact, Jenny, we see you as a valuable member of the community. You and the rest of the circle make us safer just by being around."

"But, as to why I'm here, I'm sure you heard about Ozzy disappearing. We have a clue to finding him, but need your help. This bottle has some of his breath. Titania thinks you might know a spell to find out where he is."

Jenny picked up the bottle. It contained part of the Butcher, she could feel him. She looked around at the other two. "Are you in or out? And if in, name your price."

Vivian grabbed an open bottle of Red Wizard Whiskey and drank out of it. "No fee, I want to see this Butcher with a huge bag for myself."

Granny Gorpunkle looked at Ben. "I want his dreams."

Ben was startled. "Excuse me?!"

The old woman waved him to stay seated. "Just the bad ones. Not the good ones. You have nightmares so bad they make me wake up in the middle of the night, hungry. Every damned night you run from that star spawn and see things mortals shouldn't ever see. I'm a Night Hag, bad dreams are meat and drink to my kind. Let me have you nightmares and I'll take them as payment."

Ben had been tormented every night since they had fought M'Fargle. "You'll take only my dreams of the M'fargle, take nothing else, and leave nothing else? I will pay that price."

Granny handed him a cookie. "Eat that please, and come back for one each day. I only eat the bad dreams of those who eat my cookies. It's why I usually give them to the kids. Keeps me fed and lets them sleep better. Too many monsters in this world. Including this household."

Jenny thought a little. "I want to form an official Hag Hollow, and I want it recognized by the town. As long as we don't harm the town, you don't kick us out."

Ben stood up, but he smiled. "I'm sure she will agree to that. You've been a good neighbor, miss Jenny. Things are a little weird in this town, you fit in fine. Is that all you need to find Ozzy?"

Granny handed him a second cookie. "Tell the Mayor to eat that before bed. She's having some bad dreams about missing her man. Those will help to find him. She'll sleep better too."

Ben took the cookie. "She could use the sleep. Let us know when you find something."

Georges stood on a pole that extended 300 feet into the air. He needed a good view of the area to make the best use of one of his skills. From here he could see the layout for the new walls, gates, and buildings. To him the plans were overlaid on the ground in glowing lines of different color. He liked the positioning of everything, and triggered his skill. Show them and they will Build it drained a thousand mana from him, and the lines were suddenly visible to everyone. This would make getting the digging of foundations and the laying out of the perimeter walls be perfect. And stop some problems that had been happening.

Originally, Georges has used his surveying skills to lay out of the fort, and mark everything with stakes and rope. Things hadn't gone well. At first, he thought he was making mistakes, and days were lost when digging was done in the wrong areas. Eventually he came to realize someone, or several someone's, were moving his markers. It had been tough to catch even one of them, but bear traps aren't fooled by stealth skills. After catching the first saboteur, he'd hoped that the problems would stop. They didn't and he had to ask for help.

Rolly and Squirmie volunteered. Over the next week they caught and disposed of seventeen different people trying to wreck the project. Most were players, and Rolly had just killed them all in interesting ways. Five had been people paid to do that job, who were out of work and from one village or another. Those got a choice: Death or a week’s hard labor and the guarantee of death if they came back. All chose to work, and surprisingly, three asked to stay on and work for the Baron. Georges put them on the payroll and put them to work. He needed all the man-hours he could get.

Once he hit Tier 3 and chose the Contract Worker: Fortress Builderclass, things got easier. This skill alone made it worthwhile. Unless they had a high-level mage with some type of dispel ability, those lines were staying down. One chore done. He needed to check the placement of the slabs that formed the base of first wall section, and then they could begin consecrating that part of the foundation. It had taken longer to place the slabs without Ozzy, but the project didn't stop because you were down one man, it just harder.

Wood was stacked in many areas. The beams made from towering oaks were in piles held off the ground by stone supports, with enough space between the beams for air to move around them. By the time they were needed, they'd be well seasoned. Hardware, nails, spikes, hinges and other metal goods were now being kept safe in a reinforced stone building. The loss of the first barrel of nails had alerted him to the problem with thieves. Ben had done something to control thefts after that, but they were still being careful. Too many small things were growing wrong, and he didn't think it was from negligence or chance.

His vantage point on high gave him a view of the road. Legion troops and a lot of flags and wagons. The wagons were empty though. Coming up for meat? But why all the flags? He shrugged. Not his problem.

That thought only lasted until he walked into the main courtyard where the troops were loading up a half dozen of the new artillery he had constructed for the Legion. Centurion Marcus was arguing with another man, and didn't look happy at all. Several of the workers were scowling and being decidedly unhelpful with loading up the war machines they had just delivered. What took two workers to lift was taking six of the soldiers. He didn't recognize any of them. Their uniforms were also a little different, both in look as well as quality.

He strode up to where they were starting to load a catapult and put his foot on the machine, forcing it back down and mashing a lot of fingers. The cursing, angry soldiers stepped back and glared at him. He glared back. "What the hell do you think you're doing with my machines!"

The Centurion arguing with Marcus turned and looked at him, as did another man with a higher rank. "You are Georges? The builder of these fine machines. The Legion thanks you for your work. But they aren't yours, as soon as you delivered them, they belong to us, and we have need of them to the south."

"Bullshit. Those were made for Rowan. They stay at Rowan."

The Legate looked at him and smiled. "But of course. On the official books they are listed as belonging to Rowan Keep. We are just borrowing them for now. With all the increased trade moving up and down the roads, we need them to fight bandits. I'm sure that we can have them back to you soon. And if not, I guess you'll have to make more. But please, don't spoil the day by making my men have to kill you. I'm sure that would set back the project even more."

Georges took a look at Marcus. The man did not look happy, but he wasn't stopping these people from taking the weapons. He took his foot off the catapult and stepped back.

Legate Octavius smiled at him. "Excellent. I'm sure we can do much business in the future. These are fine weapons, and the office of acquisition needs all it can get."

Georges walked away, looking for one of his runners. Finding him, he wrote a quick message out and sent him off. This wasn't over.

As the eight wagons loaded with war machines and barrels of food rolled away from Rowan Keep, Legate Octavius smiled and remarked, "Well, that went peacefully. I was hoping for more of a fight. There was a promise of a bonus if one broke out. Maybe next time."

The centurion, Silverus, nodded in agreement. "It did go easy. But I have to wonder what kind of hell we've stirred up. Marcus might play the good dog and roll over, but that won't stop him from reporting it. And I'm sure that Baron is going to be pissed."

Octavius seemed amused at the thought. "All part of the game. Get them mad, and then we hide behind our Baron, and his orders, and the office of acquisition. What did they need these catapults for anyway? They will look splendid mounted on our walls."

Silverus thought about that. "I'll have to get a crew working on repairs. Pinchpenny hasn't replaced the missing mortar in his walls in thirty years. They might now hold the weight."

The caravan was only ten miles down the road when they halted. The wagons were old and creaky, and the horses not in the best of shape. It would mean camping out for a night, but the area between Rowan and Northguard held no problems besides the occasional bandit.

One of the barrels of meat was broken open that night. It was better than the old salt pork and wormy biscuits that the Legion at Northguard had for travel rations. Silverus didn't mind the men having extra rations. He'd write off the barrel as 'lost in transit' and blame it on the workers at Rowan not securing it.

Morning came, and they prepared to move out after a breakfast of porridge and more of the smoked meat. Before they started moving, a small wagon pulled by two horses came over the hill driven by a farm girl. She had a lot of baskets in the wagon, covered by a table cloth. The smell of fresh bread came wafting over to Octarius.

"Hold up girl. What all are you transporting and where are you coming from?"

The farm girl kept her eyes downcast, as many peasants did. Her bonnet covered most of her dark hair. "My family makes muffins sir, and we sell them at the market down in Hurlsford. Usually my brother takes them down, but he's off hunting the wolf with my father. We lost seven chickens last night to it."

Several of the soldiers commented on that. The wolf was a constant nuisance in these parts, only kept in check if constantly hunted and forced to respawn.

"Sounds like you should be home then and not out on the roads. I'll buy all of your baked goods from you for my brave soldiers here. Take this note to the Centurion at Rowan Keep and he'll pay you. The Legion pays well, I made the amount equal to double what you'd get in town, plus a little extra for your time."

The girl clutched the paper like it was saving her life, which it might be. The roads were dangerous for a lone girl. "Bless you sir, my family appreciates it." Baskets were unloaded and the girl turned for home. Octavius took a muffin. It was much better than what they normally got at the barracks. He stole several more. "Eat your fill, and be sure to thank Centurion Marcus for paying for your breakfast today. Now let's get moving. I want to be past Hurlsford by lunch."

Lunch came, and they had barely made five miles. It wasn't the horse’s fault, but the constant need of the soldiers to stop and find a bush to relieve themselves behind. All of them were sick and anything they had eaten in the last couple of days was leaving them by the quickest route. Octavius was down and out, hit hard. Silverus was barely conscious. He ordered the caravan to camp by a stream so they would have fresh water. Dehydration when sick like this was a real threat. By noon, not a soldier was standing. The horses weren't even unhitched from the wagons, the uncaring soldiers just lying in the grass or by the stream, cursing the bad meat they'd eaten.

"Had to be the meat. It looked well cured, but who knows what it was from? We might have been eating squirrel or turtle or snake." The mystery of smoked mystery meat would be much discussed for months to come.

The soldiers barely registered the bandit attack. They came whooping down on them, stealing helmets, boots, and swords and anything not nailed down. When they realized that there was no resistance, they loaded it all on the wagons and drove away. They were kind enough to leave the soldiers a half empty-barrel of smoked meat. Octavius awoke later in the afternoon, crawled to the stream and threw up. That's when he realized he was only wearing his underwear and a pair of socks.

It was a long walk to Hurlsford. Most of the men recovered by the afternoon and they started walking. Being barefoot made for slow travel. In the village Legate Octavius tried to commandeer horses, but none were for sale. In fact, little was for sale, and few merchants even open. Word had spread fast that the Legion was in town, and paying with I.O.U.'s. Word might even have got there before they had arrived.

Two days later, Octavius tracked the wagons, searching for the bandit camp. The wagons were found in a small wood, but nothing else. Trackers scoured the ground, but found nothing but some boot prints, and lost the trail eventually. No wagon tracks were found, or evidence of how the war machines were moved. Northguard was ordered to double their patrols in the area, to ward off future attacks by the well-organized gang, who were now armed with Legion gear, and could mount an attack with catapults.

Poisoner has reached Level 10
 Probably Poisoned Pie has reached level 8