Progenitor's Burden

Behind Bjorn, the driver of the lead cart, two other men dismounted and approached, Sinclair greeted them with a respectful nod. "Well met, friends, had a lovely conversation with this gentleman," Sinclair gestured at the impaled archer, "shortly before your advance rider joined me. It appears that these bandits are closer to raiders: they have been hired by someone called Jarl Skagnar to hinder your progress."

Sinclair paused for emphasis, letting the gravity of the situation sink in. "I've been sent to ensure you reach your destination safely. My understanding is that there is at least another day's travel ahead, so I anticipate we'll face more challenges."

His gaze shifted towards Chewy and Leia, standing steadfast by his side. He chuckled lightly, "And may I introduce you to my intrepid companions? Despite my wishes, these two have a way of charting their own course." Giving them a playful wink, he added, "I guess some people simply can't resist the call of adventure."

Chuckling, Bjorn looked down at the two pups and spoke. "The young routinely do what they will. Their assistance will be greatly appreciated. Would you like to ride up here with me?"

Sinclair—unsure whether he, the pups, or all three had been invited to ride—nodded his head and knelt down to discuss his plans with the young wolves. "I need you to listen to me, even if this is the only time you do so, today. If you are going to help, then you must do so in the safest way possible. I want you to stick to the woodline, sniffing out any strange people and predators. If you see something, or even if you just have a bad feeling, you are to immediately return to me. I do not need to see you, but I want you to be sure you do not go beyond any point at which you can see me. I may be strong, but I am not fast; if you get in trouble, I fear it would take too long to reach you. Will you do this for me?"

Both pups looked at each other for a brief moment, then made a point of staring into Sinclair's eyes. In a very human movement, they lowered their heads and raised them again - the closest they could come to a nod. With a yip, they ran for the treelines to each side of the road, one per side. When he stood and turned back to the other humans, there was a universal expression of wonder and awe on each of their faces. "It is easy to speak to animals, but normally one might as well be talking to an infant. Do they truly listen to you? Understand you?"

"Hah! Whether they listen or not is a good question, but they certainly understand. It may not be like talking to an infant, but it certainly feels like talking to a small child. They definitely hear and understand what I am saying. Whether or not they do it is another matter altogether. They are sharp eyed and very intelligent, so we will get some warning if there is anything unusual ahead of us." With that said, Sinclair hopped onto the sideboard of the wagon, and clambered up next to Bjorn.

As the caravan trundled down the road, Sinclair enjoyed the lightheartedness of the conversation. He and Bjorn spoke back and forth about the move, and discussed how Jarl Hrondir's people were faring; thus far a lean but survivable endeavor.

"The Draugr kept us too busy to plant sufficient crops, and the cold they bring with them killed much of what we planted. With no long-term food supply, there was no real choice but to uproot the village and flee to a bigger settlement. You may even have noticed how few guards we have with us. It is not foolishness, as you might have thought; no, the majority of our warriors are fighting in the rear guard to give the remaining villagers time to flee before the Draugr bury us."

Some time had passed before they reached an opening in the woodline, which led to a spot that Bjorn said would be good for the overnight camp. Feeling an inexplicable sense of worry, Sinclair requested, and received, some more javelins, once again giving himself at least some options for attacking at range. The sun was slowly starting to set, and the path from the side of the trees to the camp site appeared to run for quite some distance. As the caravan turned off the road to head down the path, Chewy and Leia came racing out of the underbrush. Sinclair jumped down and ran over to the two animals, quickly spotting that Chewy had a small nick on his shoulder, from which a slow trickle of blood leaked into his fur. Sinclair sighed and began talking."I guess that ordering you to be careful was too much to ask? Oh, right, you can't talk. Let's try this then: one bark for yes, two for no. Got it?"

woof

"Is Timmy stuck down the well?"

woof, woof

"Ok, I'm pretty sure you've understood. Are there people in the campsite?"

woof

"Did they attack you?"

woof

"Did you do anything—stealing food, or anything else—to prompt their attack?"

woof, woof

So, they attacked a wolf pup purely out of spite. They are on my shit list now.

"Were they like the men we fought earlier?"

woof

Of course there'd be an ambush at the campsite. They'll be expecting us all to be tired from a full day's travel, if we even make it there at all. They clearly planned for the possibility that the first ambush wouldn't succeed, but they'll be certain that there we will be injured and exhausted, our numbers reduced. Sinclair walked back to Bjorn and relayed everything he had just learned.

As he finished, an idea crossed his mind. "Wait a minute. Bjorn... how many archers or other ranged fighters do you have with you?"

"Six archers, four javelin throwers. Nine shieldsmen too, to defend against arrows. Most of the shieldsmen are women - they have seen bloodshed and it is one of the best ways they can fight for the children, by guarding their lives."

"Perfect. I have a plan. Let's send the long range fighters into the woods, split evenly to each side and accompanied by one of my wolf pups. In fact, let's get the ranged fighters over here so we can discuss it"

Bjorn called two men over. "These are Vangar and Torv. They will lead the two ranged wings."

"My thanks, Vangar and Torv. These are my wolves, Chewy and Leia. Chewy, I want you to take Vangar around the left side of the clearing; it's important you stay hidden the entire time. Leia, you are to lead Torv along the right side. Vangar, Torv, as soon as the attack begins, no matter who begins the fight, I want you to count to three and begin firing. I intend for us to catch these ruffians in a crossfire and take them down with minimal risk on our part. Chewy, Leia, once the arrows and javelins start flying, I want you both to stay hidden. You are only to fight to defend yourselves. Is that understood?" Sinclair glared at the two wolves in turn, then at the Vangar and Torv, then back at the wolves again.

Sinclair turned to Bjorn. "Get the shieldsmen to the front of the caravan. They will need to prevent the enemy from fleeing in our direction when they are broadsided. I want children and the elderly in the covered wagons. If I can, I am going to try and engage these would-be ambushers in conversation, to draw some information out of them. That will give our people more time to get into place."

Bjorn looked at Sinclair with surprise. "I knew you were a great warrior, but I did not expect you to be a good tactician as well. Thank you, son of Hager."

As Sinclair came within sight of the camping ground, he was able to see a large fire with about 30 people, seated around it in various stages of undress. Clearly, they had not been expecting the caravan to arrive so soon and were yanking on leathers and armor in preparation for the fight to come. Hah, they haven't even got a lookout. As the wannabe ambushers scrambled to get ready, they failed to notice Sinclair until he had gotten remarkably close; concerned that they would shoot first and ask questions later, he raised his arms to show that he was no immediate threat.

Silence spread across the camping ground, and a man stepped forward from the far side of the fire Wow, he is the most average looking person I have ever seen. I'm not sure I could even describe him to someone else, and I'm actually looking at him.

The remarkably boring-looking man spoke. "Good evening, friend. I see we are looking to share the same sleeping grounds. I think there is enough room if you don't mind sharing. It is looking to be a cold night and there is safety in numbers."

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Sinclair smirked and responded. "Ah, you are just fellow travelers, happy to share the camping grounds. I call bullshit. I think you must be acquainted with those corpses we saw some miles back; I regret to tell you of their death. It looks like they ran into a series of axs. Ones remarkably similar to mine, in fact."

To his surprise, the other man was not easily riled up. "I see, I see. I had wondered what had happened to them; I had expected at least one of them to bring me a message well before you arrived. You see, my friends were recovery agents; they were out looking for a caravan carrying stolen goods. We—" he gestured at the armed men around him, "—have been hired to recover said goods."

Sinclair felt a moment of confusion at the man's antics, but quickly recovered. "I am afraid there has been some misunderstanding. This caravan belongs to Jarl Hrondir, his men, and their families. It contains no stolen goods."

Apparently the other man had grown bored with the wordplay. "Look, friend," overly emphasizing the word. "Stand aside and let us recover our stolen merchandise or we will kill you and everyone behind you. It's as simple as that. Our men are tired, and I am pretty sure I saw some young women that would love to keep them company."

Sinclair's blood ran cold at the last comment. I wanted to kill you when you were just would-be murderers, but rapists as well? I will enjoy every moment of this. Preparing for the attack, he fired off a quick Analyze.

Name: Deek Roughthighs

Race: Human

Level: 17

Class: Raider Captain

Health: 680/680

Mana: 110/110

Description: Raider Captains stand a cut above the common highwayman. They use a blend of charisma and iron-fisted control to lead bands of robbers. Usually cunning tacticians, they frequently orchestrate ambushes with military precision. In any given band, the Raider Captain is typically the strongest and most ruthless person, having climbed the ranks through a combination of guile, strength and—usually—treachery.

Sinclair burst out laughing. "Deek Roughthighs? Oh my god, I am so sorry. I think this is going to come as a mercy." He fed mana into his ax as quickly as he could manage, briefly wondering if there was some way to speed up the process, before pushing the thought to the side. Judging it as the right time to do so, he triggered Fenrir's Rally, followed by Yggdrasil's Authority, granting an extra +5 to the base stats of his allies.

Dropping his head back forward and bringing his large ax to bear, he closed the remaining distance between himself and the thirty bandits. As soon as they had seen his ax, they had begun charging him. Exactly what I wanted, all of them nice and bunched up. With his ax containing as much mana as it could contain, Sinclair released his Cleave. The explosion of red energy was so strong, it even pushed Sinclair back several feet. Many of the raiders were on the ground, more were groaning and covering wounds. Plenty were not even moving, having caught the brunt of the attack.

Hrondir's men and women had not been idle. They were just a couple steps behind him at this point and opened the shield wall for him to step back into. Quickly they reformed in front of him, shields lowered and locked together like some sort of armored porcupine.

As one, the shield wall moved forward, and reopened to let Sinclair—on the left—and Bjorn—on the right—out. Not much point having Bjorn or me stay in the shield wall, considering we're taller than everyone else. As the two men launched themselves to either side of the raider force, the raiders themselves managed to slowly regather their wits and begin forming their own line, shields raised towards the encroaching shield wall. Not a single shield was raised to either side, as a rain of arrows and javelins slammed into the raiders. It's like a really, really slow machine gun.

The raiders panicked and began to break. Some ran, but were caught by the hidden attackers as soon as they reached the trees. Those who stayed put were hemmed in with no options available.

Sinclair's stomach churned as he saw the raiders drop their weapons, desperation clear in their eyes. For a fleeting moment, he hesitated, the weight of ending lives that no longer resisted settling heavily on his shoulders. But he steeled himself, a cold resolve settling in. These men, given the chance, would have shown no mercy to the innocent—the women, the children—would have left nothing but ashes in their wake. He tightened his grip, his heart hardening. Mercy had no place here.

In a mad push, the remaining raiders rushed to one side, hoping that they would be one of the handful to survive. You shall not pass! Sinclair pulled out his arsenal of javelins and started raining them down on the few that somehow managed to break loose of the melee. Each javelin that landed pinned its victim to the ground, embedded through a leg here, an arm there. I can't believe how hard these javelins are hitting. I wonder if I'm eligible for the Olympics?

Within two minutes, the fight was over. To either side of the camping ground, the archers and javelin throwers were coming back into sight. Looking around, Sinclair was pleased—but not surprised—to see that, beyond a few light injuries, no-one was badly hurt.

Bjorn walked over and clapped him on the shoulder, "Sinclair, you proved yourself a hero when you stood alone in the pass to protect our people. You proved yourself a hero again when you stopped an ambush before we even knew about it. Now you have proven yourself a hero once more by defeating this enemy with no losses of our own. Three times you are a hero, Sinclair son of Hager, and three times I name you such. The gods are walking with us through you. Your name will be remembered in our stories for the rest of time. Sinclair Hagerson, the three-times hero"

Ears going pink with embarrassment (it turns out that even heroes suffer from stage fright), Sinclair began to speak. "Nothing could give me greater pleasure than to be here for you. I hope we can make your village tomorrow without loss. It has been good to fight alongside you, and I am humbled to call you my companions."

Cheers echoed, and hands slapped backs. Slowly, the caravaneers stacked the bodies to the side and began to strip them of their gear.

Bjorn walked up to Sinclair and asked, "Sinclair, will you accept the fruits of the battle as your just reward?"

Sinclair responded, careful not to insult Bjorn with his rejection. "No, my friend. The gods reward me in other ways. This is your victory as much as mine, please, accept the spoils."

After all, I can just loot them! Sinclair walked over to the stack of bodies and nudged the nearest with a toe.

Enemies Defeated: Raiders x 34

Experience Awarded: 1,462

Loot received:

Gold Coins x6

Silver Coins x43

Spear (Common) x2

Javelin (Common) x2

Sword (Common) x3

This was finally the opportunity to see how the grid system in his storage ring worked, and Sinclair was pleased to see that items like gold and silver coins were automatically stacked. Wait, hang on. There's no notification for the Raider Captain. He must have had some sort of skill to let him get away. Damn. I'd better keep an eye out for him.

You have leveled up!

As you are a human, you receive plus one to Willpower and Endurance each time you level up

As you are a human, you receive five free points to spend on the stats of your choice

To level up, please assign your points.

SInclair could see that his stats for Constitution and Agility were not far from hitting 50. Maybe I can get some training in and hit those sooner rather than later? While he considered the best way to train the two stats, wood was piled around the raiders and set alight. Sinclair stepped away, to avoid the smell of roasting bodies, and joined the caravaneers as they settled in for the night on the other side of the clearing.

As Chewy and Leia padded over to him, Sinclair realized he had as yet failed to analyze them. Wow, I really need to get better at that. In rapid succession, he made up for his failure.

Name: Chewy

Race: Direwolf

Level: 3

Health: 160/160

Description: As a Direwolf, Chewy boasts an intimidating size and a powerful physique that stands out even among his formidable kin. His thick, coarse fur, ideal for the harsh climates of the north, ranges in tone from deep gray to the black of a moonless night. He has a jaw strength capable of crushing bone and a howl that echoes through the valleys and chills his enemies.

Name: Leia

Race: Direwolf

Level: 3

Health: 110/110

Mana: 90/90

Description: Leia, while sharing the characteristic size and strength of her species, also carries a rare trait among Direwolves: mana reserves. Her fur is a tapestry of silver and shadow and serves as perfect camouflage in her native snowy forests. Agile and intelligent, Leia's keen senses make her a relentless tracker. Direwolves with magical potential are invariably from ancient lineage, with the mana reserves being a legacy from a time when Direwolves were as much creatures of myth as they were flesh and blood.

Sinclair was shocked to discover that Leia had mana. That must mean she has some abilities that use it, right? How do I find out more about them? Thinking further, he realized it was decidedly odd that he had failed to Analyze them before now. I feel like something is pushing me to go ever faster. Is someone trying to make sure I don't slow down enough to think?

Casting such thoughts aside—for now—Sinclair grabbed a bowl of the food being distributed out. He was surrounded by exhausted people, shoulders slumping and eyes drooping. He, on the other hand, felt fantastic, and a little guilty that he was so bright and bushy tailed. "Hey, Bjorn. I'm going to take the first watch. No, don't argue - I've got almost endless endurance compared to your people, and it's more important for them to get their rest. Chewy and Leia will be with me as well."

As the trio of man and wolves sat down with their backs to the fire, making sure that their vision stayed adjusted to the comparative darkness, Sinclair placed a hand deep within the fur of each companion. "You two were amazing. Thank you. However, our time to protect these people is not over, and for now we need to keep them safe while they sleep. I will stand guard in the main area here and you two can patrol the perimeter. If there is danger, get back here and warn me. If you can't make it back safely, then howl and hide; I'll come find you. OK?"

The two pups huffed their agreement and set out to patrol the perimeter of the field. Sinclair, for his part, smiled, the staunch protector of these innocent villagers.