Firstborn of the Frontier

“How do you want to do this?”

A phrase I heard all too often once I started going out into the field with my daddy. He’d ask, I’d answer, and then he’d walk me through the process to show what I got wrong, assuming we had the time. Maybe he learned it from Marcus, or maybe it’s S.O.P for Rangers to open up the floor for discussion, which makes sense considering these are consummate professionals who know what their business is about.

“No indication of parallel tunnels,” Tim whispers, spreading the map out before him and waggling his fingers to bring up a 3-D illusion of the area to better visualize our location. “Area’s been sitting empty for months though, so might be they don’t know how close they were to the main corridor.”

“You sense anything up ahead?” Captain Jung asks, and I shake my head until I realize she ain’t looking.

“Negative. We clear up to five-hundred metres.” Then, because I ain’t entirely confident, I add, “If there is a connecting tunnel though, chances are I won’t be able to sense anything through it until we move closer, around 100m.” Might only need 200m, but better to undersell and over deliver.

“Then I say we scout for an opening and move through if we find one,” Captain Jung declares, offering her two cents. “If not, we go back to the base of the shaft and make one. We have Shatter Tubes and can Ritual cast Silence to keep things quiet.”

You can? That’s news to me. Ought to learn me that Ritual then, though it’s a shame you can’t Metamagic a Ritual Spell.

“That necessary?” Sergeant Begaye asks, speaking over my internal monologue. “All we know is Abby are passing close by. Doesn’t mean the Progenitor will come this way. Might be better off using an existing accessway, rather than making one for ourselves.”

“Necessary, no, but it’s our best bet,” Marcus says. “Miners collapsed almost every tunnel Abby came out of, and they didn’t do things by halves. Add in the kid’s theory on the hob being a forward scout for the incoming Proggie, and chances are good their main tunnels are close by, which gets us closer to jackpot.”

“Silence won’t stop anything with Tremorsense from finding us.” Offering a little shrug, Tim adds, “If these greenies are fresh from fighting bugs in the badlands, then a couple subjugated Ankhegs or Burrow Hulks aren’t out of the realm of possibilities. They cotton on to us blastin’ our way through and this mission goes tits up.” Pointing at another mining tunnel on the north side of the main corridor about a klick back, Tim offers an alternative, which is how it ought to be. No naysaying in the Rangers unless you got a better idea on offer. “Abby broke through here the day before our arrival. Depth is close enough to potentially link up to the tunnel beside us, and they only collapsed the entry point, not the entire tunnel. Could take a look and see if Abby dug through since then, and if not, then they might have abandoned the route entirely, making it safer for us to make entry there.”

They hash out a few more ideas before settling on a plan, which pretty much amounts to find out more and decide then. Still helps to know all our options though, and despite standing deep under dark with a literal mountain of rock sitting overhead, it’s a breath of fresh air seeing how things get done in the big leagues, as opposed to my experience with Errol and Sarah Jay. Ain’t no one sweating the minor details or explaining every last thing because we all know our business and trust the others to handle themselves. Rather they trust each other, and I’ll do my best to stay out of their way and let them do their jobs.

With that in mind, I get back to doing mine and cast Discern once again, this time pressing the ear horn right up against the rock wall and finding nothing’s changed since the start of our little pow wow. We’ve moved away from the base of the shaft where we were too close to Abby for comfort and stopped at a nice, quiet spot further away from the adjacent tunnel. Means we’re not exactly parallel to their tunnel, which makes sense considering Abby tend to dig willy nilly rather than in nice, straight lines, while miners follow the ore veins which ain’t always so neat and orderly either. Just knowing the enemy is close has got me on edge, but the Rangers around me are calm and cool as can be. Ain’t no one tense or fidgeting about while I throw Hearing Protection back on, with Marcus, Tim, and Captain Jung falling in line while Sergeant Begaye takes a moment to stretch after coming up out of his squat.

Yea, Rangers are most certainly built different from the rest. Ain’t just training that makes them what they are, but the ability to move forward no matter the odds stacked against them, then do it again the next day. I walked into this operation with both eyes open, knew I’d be going down under dark to navigate through undiscovered tunnels infested with Abby to find a well-guarded Proggie moving towards town, but it’s one thing to know a fact and another to face it head on without blinking.

Won’t say I regret my decision, not yet. Might not be so eager to volunteer for the next delve though, not without a few more years under my belt.

With the unflappable Sergeant Begaye close on my heels, I lead us further down into the mines while all too aware of how the barest scrape of my boots raises an echo that reverberates in my ears. The gentle slope brings us even deeper under dark, though you wouldn’t know it at first glance, and the rough, uneven rock walls close in around us as the twisty tunnel grows narrow and cramped in height and width. Ain’t no mining carts making it all the way down here; this is where them miners were working by hand, hammering away at the walls with their picks and carrying ore deposits back one bucket at a time. Too risky blowing through rock with Spells here, because all it takes is one poorly placed Shatter to bring the whole roof down on top of them. Soon as the thought appears, I have to fight the urge to turn and run, to stand beneath the towering mine shaft where I can’t reach up and touch the roof overhead.

It's an unnerving feeling, going deep under dark for the first time ever, and I gotta give props to the miners who come here day after day after day. Despite knowing there are four people behind me and another tunnel close to my left, I can’t shake the feeling that there are thousands upon thousands of metres of stone all around me in all directions as I stare out at this grayscale world, one isolating me from the Frontier and intent on entombing me here in the dark depths so that I will never see my loved ones again. I gotta leave, gotta get out, gotta go see the starry skies and vast expanse of land stretching out over the horizon. Can’t stay here, can’t move forward, can’t keep going on like this, because all that awaits me is darkness and death.

The heady rush of terror threatens to overwhelm me I as I force myself to put one foot in front of the other and lead the Rangers onward. Thankfully, I have no need to Concentrate on the Detect Aberration Spell just yet, as its natural duration has yet to run out, leaving me free to focus on handling my fear. Fear of failure is a self-fulfilling prophecy, so put I gotta put it aside and put my mind back on task. Breathe in. Breathe out. Forget the fear and focus on your surroundings like you’re supposed to instead. The sharp tang of rust in the air tells me this here was an iron mine, not the most profitable metal, but an essential one, and I can’t help but touch every wooden support pillar I pass just to know there’s more than just stone here in the heart of the mountain. The rock walls I avoid like the plague, turning and twisting my body and limbs to avoid even brushing up against them for fear of alerting Abby in adjacent tunnels of our presence. That’s all it’d take really, the sound of movement on the other side of the rocks, and them Abby would come pouring in to investigate. Orcs and bugbears tearing clean through stone with their bare hands to come right out of the walls on top of us, leaving us no option but to fight our way free and run all the way back to town with a horde hot on our heels.

Through the fear and idle thoughts comes an inkling of a notion, one that brushes past my mind and alerts me to something hinky. Apprehension is one thing, but the prospect of a good fight and a hard run usually gets my blood pumping, and yet here I am getting ready to rabbit before firing a single shot. That ain’t normal, and once I notice the issue, the cause becomes clear. Holding a fist up to alert the others, we all freeze in complete silence that echoes out into the greyscale darkness. Closing my eyes to shut out the world around me, I take in what the Detect Aberration Spell is giving me and parse through it, breaking down the unfamiliar sensations into something I can understand.

Most folks hear the name ‘Detect Aberration’ and immediately think the Spell is hit or miss, like you ask, “Hey, are there Aberrations around?”, and some higher being answers yes or no. Ain’t that simple unfortunately, and the same goes for the rest of the Detection Spells, as they all work in their own unique way. What Detect Aberration does is enable the caster to make use of a set of senses we humans don’t possess, senses that come stock standard on each and every Abby. The long and short of it is that Abby produce or emit a sort of signal, one which ain’t a sound, smell, taste, texture, or colour, but something Aetheric in nature. It’s like leaving footprints in the sand, except the sand is the Immaterium, and humans can’t really sense it without magical assistance.

Those signals are there though. No denying it, they’re as real as radio waves and infrared lights, and we got the tech to prove it. More to the point, Abby use these signals as a form of identification and communication. They each got a unique signature, one that identifies them as an individual and what Proggie they spawned from, and they can leave messages within those signals the same way ants might leave a scent to let other ants know the way to food or how to get back home. Detect Aberration enables the caster to perceive those messages, but it takes practice and familiarity to read into the meanings behind them, as it ain’t written in English or really any words at all.

That’s what separates a generic caster from a practiced Scout, the ability to interpret what the Spell gives you beyond the bare bones. Told Kacey as much while we was riding through the desert, but didn’t rightly know how to explain it any better, because we each perceive the information given to us in different ways. Our bodies are physically incapable of receiving those signals, so the Spell bridges the gap in our perception to allow our minds to define the ineffable. Some see colours, others smell scents, while still more get a mix of visual and auditory stimulations. Me, I get something less concrete, a general sense of things that’s hard to put into words, yet is clear and definable so long as I stop to think about it first.

There’s a message there, one that’s plain as day. I just gotta take some time to decipher it is all. Can’t really describe how I understand it, as it ain’t like reading words from a book. With practice and familiarity though, you start picking up on certain patterns, like how far they cast their signals and how long they stuck around after the fact. Were the signals left behind intentionally or unintentionally? Is every Abby sending the same signal, or are some marching to a different tune? What sort of emotions are embedded in the signal? Fear? Excitement? Boredom? All this and more is made clear by the Spell, information available to everyone who uses it, and the best can read into it and come out with all sorts of facts. While I wouldn’t go so far as to say I’m the best there is, I was trained by one of the best, and made for a damn good student if I do say so myself, meaning I pick up on more than most.

Usually, I can get a gist of how strong a particular group of Abby might be, how long they lingered in the area, and sometimes I can even tell if they intend to come back. Right now though? I’m getting a read on something that’s saying I ain’t welcome here. A message not in so many words, but emotions, emotions fed into me through a Spell of my own casting. Rage and warning, with a hint of glee. Turn back or suffer the consequences, the signals are saying. A firm and unyielding demand filled with the promise of pain and oblivion to those who disobey, thoughts and emotions elicited by the Spell which had me shaking in my boots before I even noticed what was happening. Almost mistook them for my own and let them get the better of me, but now that I do know, it’s much easier to shut it out, so I let out a long, slow breath and indicate to the others that I’m ready to move forward again. The Aetheric signal continues to hammer away at my mind and fill me with fear and trepidation as I march forward through the cramped tunnels, a metaphysical ‘Do Not Approach’ sign laced with threat enough to rival a genuine Fear Spell, but the sheer relief of knowing I ain’t a coward is more than enough to see me through.

With renewed courage and purpose, I lead the team right up to where the signal is strongest, a patch of rock that don’t look any different from the rest. While explaining what happened to the rest of the team, I place my Aberrtin tuning fork close to the wall without touching it and wait. The hum is barely perceptible to begin with, but as the signal resonates and amplifies like making waves in the bathtub, the tines of my tuning fork get to singing in a flat, off-key, piercing note that almost hurts to hear, and not because of its volume. Clamping down on the tuning fork before the note gets too loud, I finish my explanation with, “So yea. Pretty sure Abby haven’t broken into this mining tunnel because they’ve been warned not to.” As to why? Who knows. Abby do all sorts of strange things for the silliest reasons really, so it could be anything.

“Good catch,” Marcus whispers, giving me a big grin and a gentle pat on the shoulder while Captain Jung and Sergeant Begaye nod in approval. Tim don’t do anything, as he’s busy watching for threats like he always does, but I don’t take it personal because that’s just how he is. While the Rangers discuss what to do with this information, I take a moment to go over what I’ve learned so far, as this trip has been a real treasure trove of experience.

There’s a Qinese proverb my daddy used to pull out every now and then that roughly means, “To read ten thousand books and travel ten thousand miles.” What he meant was that studying is good, but you need to balance that out by broadening your horizons, because seeing is believing. That’s the argument he used to convince Aunty Ray to let him bring me out into the Frontier when I was eight, something he’d been pushing for since I was six. That sort of experience is what puts me at the forefront of my peers, and now I’m catapulting even further ahead. None of what I’ve been through today is new, not exactly. I’ve known about cramped mining tunnels and Aberration Aetheric Signals for years now, have heard stories and read articles in the newspaper about both, but only now do I appreciate what it’s really like, and that sort of experience can’t be taught.

Only earned, and while I might not jump at the next chance I get to go delving back under dark, I’ll be better prepared for it all the same.

“All right then,” Marcus concludes, and only then do I realize I haven’t been paying attention to the discussion. “Let’s do this.” That’s all the hype and fanfare he’s willing to share before backing off to prepare a ritual, while Captain Jung moves right up to where the Aetheric Signal is anchored and settles in for a ritual of her own. Rather than pay close attention, I do my best not to look, because a large part of Rituals lies in the symbolism behind the objects used and the movements they convey. Without knowing the meaning behind it, I risk forming my own preconceived notions, which might well make it more difficult to learn the Ritual proper. With Detect Aberration, it’s taking things that are natural to this world, fire, wood, metal, water, wind, and earth, then combining them as a base to compare and contrast against the decidedly unnatural dissidence of Aberrations. There’s more to it than that, but the long and short of it is that first impressions matter a lot, and seeing how Rituals are all about faith, I’d rather not risk my sinful perspective tainting my thought process of the whole thing.

I’ll make light of religion any time and any place, but Magic is some serious business.

Captain Marcus finishes his Ritual first, which as far as I could tell involved building an alter out of smooth rocks and finding one that best matches the surroundings. Holding that particular rock in hand, he brings it over to the wall and presses up against it while muttering a chant. At the culmination of his incantation, he steps forward and moves right into the solid stone wall, and I watch with mouth open as his massive, muscled self melts right into the stone, weapons and all. Meld into Stone most like, letting him slip inside the solid rock and move through it with ease, allowing him to poke his head out and see what’s waiting on the other side. Not much use in a fight, but it’s a Third Order Spell all the same, making the Ritual that much more valuable to anyone who can use it.

Captain Ava’s Ritual is far less impressive in comparison, as it involves drawing chalk circles and hitting a soundless bell with a tiny instrumental mallet wrapped in yarn. There’s more to it, including some hand waving and mouth chanting that I ain’t paying too much attention to, and she keeps it up until Marcus steps right back out and gives her a thumbs up. Soon as he does, the area around the invisible signal of fear is enveloped in a stifling Silence, one that mutes even the sound of my breath and the heart beating in my chest. An unsettling sensation to be sure, one that makes the constricting tunnels and endless darkness that much more uncomfortable, so I step away and out just to feel a little better about myself. End up scraping my boot against the stony floor, or at least I think I do because Tim’s eyes lock onto me with a frown as I exit the sphere of Silence, and I wince to see it happen.

Man’s got a glare that hits harder than the quasi-psychic Abby manifestation screaming at me to get gone, and I don’t much like knowing I deserved it. He don’t come down too hard on me though, just gives me a look telling me not to fuck up again before resuming his vigil, and I resolve not to disappoint him a second time.

While all this is taking place, Marcus is busy working with a tube-like Artifact that’s about as long and thick as my forearm. It’s got two steel prongs coming out of either end, each attached to their own spool of copper wire which I assume connects back to the Spell Core and Metamagic Etchings in the center. A real haphazard hack job of an Artifact it is, using all that unshielded and ungrounded copper, so I’m guessing it’s of local make. My hunch is proven correct as Marcus carefully hammers in the prongs into the wall, with two up top about a meter and a half apart, and two down bottom in the same orientation with about two metres in height between both sets. Makes for a tall and wide rectangle it does, and I take another step back once I’ve figured out what it’s all for, as that there is a bare bones Shatter Tube with almost no thought given to safety or reliability.

All that wire really ought to be framed and shielded, as it can easily create dangerous harmonics and cause a whole mess of complications if you set it up wrong. Hopefully all our Aetherarms are properly shielded, and knowing Mr. Kalthoff, they are, else an errant Aetheric flux could very well set the Shatter Core off. As if that wasn’t bad enough, four thin wires are hardly enough to ensure the Spell goes off where it’s directed to, namely within the framework of those four prongs. Atmospheric conditions could very well prove to be more conductive than the wires, or close enough for the Spell to stop short and fire off wherever it pleases, which I would say is probably a terrible idea when working in the tight confines of a mining tunnel where an errant Shatter could very well bring a thousand tonnes of mountain down on our heads.

That right there is what natural, homegrown fear feels like, and I gotta say, I don’t like it much.

While Marcus unspools copper and backs away with the Shatter Tube in hand, I retreat around another bend with Captain Jung and Sergeant Begaye at my side. Would probably be better if we were all behind Marcus, but I ain’t about to risk walking past those wires, especially not with Sergeant Begaye all kitted out in Conjured Armour. Despite being the second most stable School of Spells behind Abjuration, it’s all too easy for the Aetheric dynamics within the Conjured Armour to react with unshielded copper like that, which ain’t a big deal unless said copper is attached to a Shatter Spell Core while down in a mining tunnel. Thankfully, my fears don’t come to pass as Marcus Primes the Core and actuates it with a press of a button, and the Spell pulverizes the wall and Abby signal alongside it in complete and utter Silence. The ineffable sense of dread melts away as waves of Aether tear it apart in a spray of stone and power, leaving me feeling much more relaxed as the fear and tension drains out of my shoulders.

A massage. That’s what I need, Cowie in his baby form marching up and down my spine to really pound out the knots in my back.

Job ain’t done yet though, so we stand with weapons ready while waiting for the dust to settle, but the minutes tick by and no greenies come by to poke their heads through the door we just made. Shame really, because the Shatter Tube is still set up and ready, the prongs stuck in the stone about a full inch away from the blast area. Fancy bit of work there, directing the blast area like that without any direct contact. Danny probably knows how its done, but I don’t understand it, as it’s more tech than magic. This is the sort of finicky nonsense that keeps a lot of Spell Cores from being all that valuable, because while a caster can dictate the target area with their mind, the Spell Core needs precise instructions every time or else it casts the Spell centred around the Core itself. This setup works fine for using Shatter on stone walls, but ain’t all that great for hitting a target on the move, meaning area of effect Spell Cores like Ice Knife, Web, or even Fireball don’t make for great Artifacts, despite being amazing Spells in their own right.

Soon as we’re sure our antics didn’t alert any Abby, Sergeant Begaye gives me a sign to approach and lead the way. One thing about Detection Spells in general is that they don’t do corners well, meaning that even though I’m fairly close to the tunnel entrance, I can’t really sense much beyond the mouth of the opening due to how them Aetheric signals travel. As I draw closer and closer, I get a better read on what’s happening on the other side, with trails of Abby lingering thick as the dust in the air. My kerchief don’t help filter none of the former, so I grit my teeth and bear it as manually sort through the signals left behind. Most are weeks old, and those go to the back of my mind, while some are recent and belong to them Abby which I sensed moving back by the mine shaft.

Wasn’t just one group of Abby moving this way either, heading north along this little side passage in a right hurry to get away from the ‘Do Not Enter’ sign we just wiped away. Gobbos, orcs, and bugbears aplenty, in numbers too high to count, but nothing that stands out at first glance. The tunnel itself is large enough for three men standing shoulder to shoulder, but short enough that I feel compelled to slouch a bit. Means Marcus won’t be comfortable here, and Captain Jung will need a bit of extra room so her sword of a bayonet doesn’t scrape against the roof. The path north gets narrower and tighter, but the path south looks good until it turns sharply, so I pad over for a better look.

There’s a few twists and turns as we go, but within a minute, the Detect Aberration Spell alerts me to something before my eyes make sense of what I’m seeing. Rather than another tunnel, I come out onto a narrow ledge overlooking a wide and expansive cavern. No longer constrained by metres upon metres of thick rock in most directions, my Detect Aberration Spell spreads out into the darkness and returns with enough information to make my head spin, and it takes me a moment to filter through it all. The area runs from north to south and is teeming with Abby signals both new and old, and some are so fresh I can track their movement in real time as they scurry about the base of the cavern without any real rhyme or reason. Rather than lean over the edge for a peek, I step back and make use of the Spell to determine that it’s mostly gobbos down there. A lot of gobbos, as in hundreds upon hundreds of them, but not marching northwards like the group before. No, these gobbos have been here for awhile it seems, a fact revealed to me as I recognize their signatures and sort them out in my head, while those Abby passing through stick to the upper levels. Like the one we’re on, so in the interest of remaining undetected, I motion for everyone to fall back to the hole in the wall where we can put up a fight and lay out everything I just saw.

“Birthing cavern maybe?” Marcus asks, before shaking his head. “No, if there was a Proggie this close to Pleasant Dunes, we’d know about it already.”

“Could be where it intends to settle in,” Sergeant Begaye says, and everyone nods along in agreement. “Goblins at the bottom there might be clearing out space for Aether crystallization.”

“Can we rig the cavern up to cave in?” Captain Jung asks, always eager for those big booms, but I gotta shake my head and disappoint her.

“Not my area of expertise,” I say, letting her down gentle, “But the cavern looked pretty big and expansive. Certainly possible, but I don’t see the five of us getting it done unnoticed with what little we got on us.” I know they’re all carrying Shatter charges, which ain’t an Artifact like the Shatter Tube, but rather an Aether suspension Matrix etched into brass disc with the Shatter Spell Imbued within. Makes for a one time use device that’ll cast the Shatter Spell point blank around the disc once it’s Primed and set off.

“Better off using our charges to seal this route,” Tim says. “Once we take out the Proggie, this is our exit, and we need something to keep Abby from chasing us all the way back to town. If we fail, the main tunnel’s rigged to explode too, which’ll buy us time to run while Abby dig their way out.”

And run we will, because once the Proggie gets this close to town, it’ll send its Abby army into a Berserker Rage to destroy any and all possible threats. There’s no holding the walls once that happens, as they’ll keep coming until their bodies stack high enough to run right over the ramparts and into town. They won’t break, not until every last one of us is dead or they are, and while I’m confident the Rangers would come out on top, I’m also sure the juice ain’t worth the squeeze. Most of the townies will die in the fighting, and the boots too most like, so I ain’t about to risk Tina’s hide or mine to save the likes of Ronald Jackson and his ilk.

Still don’t get what his angle is here. If this is the scenario he envisions happening, then how’s he expect to survive the fighting, much less emerge as the ultimate winner after all’s said and done? There’s gotta be more to his plan, since he don’t got enough men to protect Pleasant Dunes much less capture a Proggie alive, but I don’t see it, so the best way to keep things from going his way is to take out the Proggie before it arrives.

The plan takes shape organically with each Ranger adding in their own two cents, and soon enough, we got the tunnel’s mouth rigged to explode and an Illusion in place to keep wandering Abby from stumbling across or blocking our exit. Before we set out into the cavern, Marcus takes me by the shoulder and looks me in the eye. “Remember your role Howie,” he says, serious as the grave. “You’re here to Scout, while we do the heavy lifting. No matter how dire the situation, you are not to engage unless we go loud, and even then, your first priority is to retreat. Understood?”

“Yes Captain my Captain,” I say, firing off a salute, before adding, “Don’t be doin’ none of that yee-haw cowboy bullshit either.” My way of telling him to be careful, and we share a little smile before I turn around and set off.

With the staunch and painted Sergeant Begaye at my side no less, whose silent presence is mighty reassuring as I head back out into the Abby infested cavern. Though ready for the flood of information this time around, it’s still enough to make my head spin a bit, but I bear down on the Spell and subconsciously filter out everything unimportant while focusing on the movement of various unseen groups scuttling about in the darkness.

Sixty metres. That’s the general range we got to keep away from any Abby, because that’s about how close we gotta be for them to identify us as enemies with their Darkvision. Their ability to sense the signals they give off does nothing to help them identify us, since they themselves are capable of hiding their signals so it’s nothing special to see a group of Abby walking around all stealthy like. I’m more worried about our smell, as the last time any of us showered was the better part of two weeks ago, so we’re probably smelling real ripe. That’s why we brought Tim though, because while the Deodorant Cantrip doesn’t so much eliminate scents so much as cover them up, Pass Without Trace is a Second Order Abjuration Spell which does what it says, eliminating tracks and traces of our presence in real time. For him and anyone within 10m of him, which is a right nice bonus. Can’t do nothing if I start marking the stone with my bayonet, but it’ll hide footprints in mud, trails in grass, and bloodstains pretty decently. Course, results may vary, and Tim’s an Illusionist first and foremost, but as a Sniper who spent a lot of time shooting high-profile targets, he got plenty of practice making sure his presence went unnoticed even after the fact.

In contrast? I’m pretty much an amateur with the Spell, as I was only supposed to learn it to familiarize myself with the effects and figure out how to counteract them, but it’s come in handy once or twice out on the Frontier. Most recently with Wayne’s ‘missing’ merchant, though I admit I might’ve been a bit too thorough with them, wiping away all tracks with a heavy hand instead of taking the extra effort to hide only mine and make it look less pristine, which is a clue in and of itself. Helps to know I got a pro covering me this time around though, so I lead us south along the western edge of the cavern while steering clear of any and all Abby patrols. Every single hole in the wall is a blind corner to check, and I keep imagining a group of orcs just sitting there taking a load off and blowing our cover. It doesn’t happen, not like I’m expecting at least, but it means I’m ready when I sense a group of ten to fifteen orcs and gobbos coming towards us out of an ancillary tunnel.

Information I pass along behind me in complete silence before stepping back to watch the pros handle their business. Captain Jung and Sergeant Begaye move a good ten metres into the tunnel while Marcus pulls out a collapsible tripod and extends the legs so it stands at about chest height. My chest, not his, and with a touch of the actuator, he sets a sphere of Silence around the entrance of the tunnel so none of the sound leaks out into the cavern below. Rather than go loud, Captain Jung and Sergeant Begaye form up to stand side by side and wait for the Abby patrol to wander into sight, at which point they start whooping and hollering as they rush the stalwart duo with weapons raised. No Spell slinging from them, and to my surprise, the Rangers don’t throw any Bolts, Orbs, or Lightning bolts neither, and both sides meet in a crash of steel and muscle. The eighteen-inch-long bayonet on the end of Captain Jung’s Merlin 45 hisses as it takes an orc through the chest, piercing deep into its chitinous plating like a hot knife through butter.

No, not a hot knife. An Acidic one, and she doesn’t so much as retract her blade as carve clean through the orc’s torso to cleave a goblin trying to slip around.

That’s nothing compared to Sergeant Begaye though, who uses the high ceiling of this particular tunnel to his advantage by raising the Conjured tomahawk Sarah Jay talked up so much over his head before bringing it crashing straight down into an orc’s forehead. Cleaves it from crown to belly he does, and there ain’t no Acid at work there, just sharp Aether mimicking steel and doing it better than the real thing ever could. The tomahawk shoots back up along the same path, but its no longer in the Sergeant’s hands as he draws a wicked looking knife and sets to hacking at the diminutive goblins dead set on sinking their claws and fangs into his thighs. Ignores the approaching orc who steps over the bisected corpse of his friend with both arms outstretched, but the tomahawk takes care of the second orc the same way it handled the first. Weapon goes up, and weapon swings down, catching this second orc in the back of its head as it came in for a tackle, and even though I can’t hear any sounds from this fight, I can all too easily imagine the sickening squelch as the tomahawk rises back up into the air for yet another strike.

So it’s not moving about freely, like my Mage Hands or a Second Order Spiritual Weapon would. No, Sergeant Begaye has some modicum of control over his Conjured Weapon, but it’s more like making it Echo his movements rather than move freely of its own volition. Shows in how the tomahawk traces out the same arc every time, though as far as I can tell, the Sergeant can control the timing without too much fuss and even reposition the weapon if he can spare the time to think about it in the heat of battle.

As for Captain Jung? She don’t do nothing as fancy, just stabs and slices her way through the Abby crowd while advancing step after step and throwing out Cantrips left and right. Doesn’t need any armour, because them greenies don’t even come close to landing a hit, and the whirlwind of violence ends as abruptly as it began when the last gobbo tries to eat her bayonet with about as much success as you’d expect.

Okay. Fine. I admit it. I was wrong to think it was completely stupid to go toe to toe with Abby. It’s pretty cool, and I suppose sometimes even necessary if you want to keep things quiet under dark, so I guess I should pick up a weapon sometime and familiarize myself with its use. Not a sword, because those are just stupid. Not a bayonet either, because far as I can tell, Captain Jung’s Merlin 45 is made special so it links up to the bayonet on the end, else she’d have to touch the blade directly to cast Spells through it. Fact that she only used Cantrips that whole time puts her a step above Sergeant Begaye, who sure looked impressive and impregnable with his Conjured Tomahawk and Armour, but he’s using two First Order Spells while the Captain still has most of her Spells free and ready for use. Not a big deal since First Order Spells ain’t exactly taxing, but every little bit counts when your backs against the wall, and we might soon find ourselves in just that position.

Not yet though, as Captain Jung and Sergeant Begaye stand vigilant a minute longer before waving me over to check for incoming Abby. None that I can sense, though them tunnels get real twisty before long, so we wait a little longer before feeling safe enough to move out. Marcus takes down the Silence Artifact and I lead the way once more with a newfangled respect for melee combat and no real desire to test my skills in hand-to-hand combat with an orc or Ranger. Luckily, I don’t have to, as we come across two more errant patrols on our way down south, both of which are taken care of by Captain Jung and Sergeant Begaye. The third fight has me appreciating his armour even more after a goblin latches onto his ankle early on in the fight, and he’s unable to fight free of it until taking care of the orcs in front of him. Must’ve had a good thirty seconds to gnaw on his shin, but them feathered boots must be tougher than steel because the Sergeant walks away without so much as a limp after stomping it dead, and I can’t help but wonder how his armour would hold up against a Bolt.

From a gun of course. How would you even test something like that? Can he Conjure it and take it off? So many questions, but so few answers, and no time at all to pick his brain. Or inclination, because even if he is amenable to sharing the wisdom of his years, asking him for advice would be like spitting in Uncle Teddy’s eye. I stopped going to him for lessons because I knew he’d been training me up to be a Ranger, so I can’t well go to another Ranger for help, now can I? Frustrating is what that is. Was a time when I’d ask anyone who crossed my path for answers about magic, and most were happy to share, but I ain’t as cute as I used to be, and don’t got as much goodwill banked as when my daddy was still around.

It is what it is, and I can’t afford the distraction in the here and now, so I stifle my magical curiosity and continue heading south in search of the Proggie. It takes a good three hours of marching to reach the end of the cavern, and while it wasn’t a straight shot by any means, it’s still a good amount of distance to traverse deep under dark. The fact that we’ve only run into three patrols so far is something of a miracle, but with the cavern coming to an end, there’s no obvious route to follow anymore, meaning any one of the honeycombed tunnels coming out of the cavern’s southern border could lead us to the Proggie, and I’ve no earthly idea which one to take.

Forces me to call an audible it does as we retreat into a side tunnel to talk. Tim keeps watch on the outside, while I watch the inside and share my concerns, but they don’t got any answers for me. I’m the Scout, so it’s my job to point the way, and I hunker down to think it through while we still got time to spare. All in all, we’ve been down here for almost five hours, meaning if I don’t latch onto the Proggie’s signature in the next hour or so, then we gotta turn around and head back before we’re overrun by Abby. It's daytime, meaning most are fast asleep, as their bodies tend to naturally sync up to be more active at night even if there ain’t no sun to concern themselves with. Has to do with their fungal-adjacent nature, as all that green in their skin means they can produce energy from the sun the same way plants do, so long as they ain’t spending too much effort moving around.

Doesn’t mean they can’t move under the sun, just that they prefer not to even if they’re several hundred metres beneath the surface.

Hang on. If that’s the case, then why have those gobbos at the bottom of the cavern been moving around all this time? Hasn’t just been a small group, like the patrols moving around the tunnels to make sure there aren’t any invaders. There’ve been hundreds upon hundreds of gobbos scurrying back and forth down there this whole time, but I’ve mostly been ignoring them because I figured they weren’t important. I wasn’t gonna go down there to deal with them, and they seemed wholly content with whatever was keeping them busy, so I figured live and let live.

“Ask Tim if he can see what them gobbos been doing down on the cavern floor,” I whisper, and the message comes back to me right quick. Turns out, they’re clearing out space like we thought, but also picking fungus off the walls and carrying biomass down south. To the Proggie most likely, a detail Tim probably thought I’d caught early on, which is why he didn’t say nothing until now. A second query reveals the tunnels they using, and the answer narrows our options down from sixteen to five, only one of which is wide enough to fit a Proggie. Even the babies are about the size of my wagon minus the wheels, a big old slab of meat and mouths that look like it done crawled out of a nightmare. And crawl is the operative word, as they typically drag themselves forward using their mass of meaty tentacle that they use to dig tunnels in stone and burrow into holes. Heard tales of some moving about on dozens of Floating Discs cast by Abby drones birthed for that very purpose, while Proggies in the old world have advanced enough to cast Levitate and Fly on their babies to get them gone even quicker, but here on the Frontier, they’re limited to muscle power and nothing more, because any Abby dumb enough to give a Proggie a hand is liable to lose it one of its many, many mouths.

So our choice is clear. We set up camp here and catch the Proggie as it emerges, or we head down into those tunnels itself and move fast enough to avoid any gobbos behind us while simultaneously hoping we don’t run into any forward patrols set to keep the Proggie safe. The decision ain’t mine, but it’s an easy one to make, and I find us a nice, recessed nook where we can rest easy and keep an eye on the tunnel entrance. Excitement courses through me at the prospect of doing what I set out to do, protect Tina and bag me a Proggie, but the reality hammers home soon after. We’re a good five hours away from making it back topside, meaning that once we take out the Proggie, we gotta secure its corpse and lug it a good long way, while nearby Abby lose their minds and try to kill us the whole way back. Not just for vengeance; no the temptation of a Proggie corpse is no less alluring for Abby as it is for people. While we desire its body for its ability to crystallize Aether, Abby want that corpse in their bellies, because it represents a wealth of nutrients and magics enough to propel them straight up the evolutionary chain and turn them into something powerful beyond their meagre imaginations.

Forget hobgoblins, or orc lords, or even trolls, ogres, and giants. That’s standard fare, your basic greenie progression, but an Abby that sinks its teeth into Progenitor flesh gains unlimited potential and can grow into intelligent, Spellslinging monsters which defy categorization. Deviants is what they’re known as, because they don’t fit in any other box, and ain’t no Deviant the same as any other. Could turn into massive sacs of meat oozing Contagion to infect the lands they settle upon, some big beastie out of myth like a dragon or kraken, or even something that passes for human so long as you don’t look too close, and anything in between. To make matters worse, while Deviants can’t produce Abby, they can reproduce, creating more Deviants like itself to spread and propagate even further. Given time and biomass enough, a Deviant has the potential to become even more of a threat than a baby Proggie looking to settle in, and I ain’t about to be the one responsible for the Frontier’s first confirmed Deviant.

Not me, no sir-ree. Would fit the theme of the Frontier’s Firstborn, if I had a hand in the birth of the first Deviant. Poetic even, though that’s an honour I’ll gladly decline, since I’d rather not have my name live on forever in infamy.