Cursed Blood and Stolen Gifts...

Recorded time and time again, these words come from our defeated enemies.

Often enough to assume that in this eternal struggle, the blood of man is hardly innocent.

Chapter 38

[Caravan]

Merchant Conner wished very badly that he could afford a Skyship. He could even see one, distantly. There it sat, far above his head. With massive sails floating along on the breeze like an impossible dream. To be sailing in the clouds, free of problems, and never bothered by earthly troubles.

What a life that must be.

Those wealthy fools up there, just drifting cargo from place to place while being paid in spades. He'd seen a few of the pilots complaining by their port, just a few weeks back. Each one of them had been sipping expensive drinks, and smoking fine pipes, while chattering on about how the winds weren't quite right, and how they'd arrived half a day late.

It was maddening.

They didn't ride along on wheels, pulled by animals- and yet they complained they couldn't fly quickly enough?

Anger didn't suit him, Conner knew. It didn't suit him, and he had only himself to blame for his lot in life. There had been an offer when he was younger: a real opportunity. He could have been sponsored by the Guild and learn of such things, perhaps if not to become a pilot, at least a member of a crew. An engineer, or some lesser Mage. He'd been told he had potential, and yet he'd wasted the chance like a fool.

Money.

It was always money.

His entire way of life had circled around the earning of coin. So instead of doing the smart thing, he'd decided to stay the course and continue working as he always had. Caravans were paying well, so why would he take on years of lost profits to learn how to fly a ship when business was so good? He'd have needed to be a complete fool to pass up years of profits, for something so trivial...

Now look at him.

Conner shook his head with a sigh.

All good things come to an end. So many coins earned and spent, and he was in the exact same place he'd always been. He'd learned all sorts of abilities many younger traders might wish badly for, but it came with more occupational hazards than ever.

Times were tough.

When the Guild felt the need to pool resources with their competition just to safely continue making deliveries to and from the cities, you knew things weren't good. But it was all of the major ports on the coast hurting, now. The City of the Emperor was all but dying as resources continued drying up. The stakes were desperate enough that the Merchant Guild was combining forces to travel with free traders, unsworn to their Guild's oaths. Willing to take cuts in profits and hand them to their enemies. And that wasn't even the worst of it, these days.

With all the fear and all the talk, some people were making offerings.

He'd see them on the side of the roads, more and more often these days. Candles, and sculptures placed by small shrines. These sort of things were popping up, especially by the safer roads. Places where people were praying on their knees, wishing their loved ones safety before every journey. Not to the Lord of Light, or to the Emperor, but to the feral God of the wastelands.

The Blue Death.

What lunatics. They had no idea what they were praying to. Meanwhile, Conner remembered that voice, booming like thunder, along those stone warriors. Visages of war, put into strange bodies...

It was like praying to some type of natural disaster.

The losses he'd suffered all those months ago were still quite fresh in his mind. Too much coin to count, bundled up in wagons that were also worth a pretty sack of gold. This was not nearly enough to deter him from his duties, but more than enough to know that the entity lurking in the lands between the City and the Western Coasts was hardly the kind that could be bought with just a few offerings. Any of the fools who prayed to it were placing their faith in something they didn't understand.

Still, it was fighting Constructs.

And that did give Conner some reason to rein in his feelings.

He could argue that simply because those giant stone frogs were seen fighting Constructs along the highways, it didn't really mean they were protecting anyone. And just because no other caravans had been assaulted by those frogs, that didn't mean they wouldn't in the future. While it didn't seem to be interested in hunting people, which, if only by default, made it preferable to most of the dangerous things a Merchant could run into on the highways: it certainly wasn't friendly.

At the end of the day, Conner supposed that had to count for something.

In some small ways, he was even grateful.

He'd lost coin on that fateful venture. Quite a lot of coin. When several golem that are tall as houses show up and loot cargo, losses are expected. Thankfully, though, a majority of those losses were ultimately absorbed by the Merchant Guild and ruled not to be his direct responsibility. And ever since their rather humiliating defeat, Jule and the rest of the hired mercenaries assigned to his caravan had been far more cooperative on their travels. Conner had noticed that they no longer attempted to extort travelers, and the entire band of caravan guards had taken to bringing their own water storage so they could bathe regularly.

So they didn't smell as bad, either.

It wasn't any of his business why a group of dangerous men were keen to avoid stinking like a pile of Ro' dung on a sweltering afternoon, but he certainly couldn't complain about it. The real problem was that Conner had the worrisome sense that if the Golem showed back up looking for tribute, the very people who were supposed to protect his cargo would be helping to unload it for the stoney bastards.

Fools... they were all fools.

The skyship Conner was watching drifted too far ahead to truly make out, leaving the long line of wagons behind. Bringing his gaze back to the road, he eyed the utter nothingness of the area. There were posts occasionally made of stone, marking the distance. There were hints of buildings, that had been torn down and scavenged for wood or supplies. There was nothing else. Years ago, when he was still starting out, there had still been small towns and inns all along this road. Now, there were only the husks of building foundations, if that. Skeletons of places where monsters might lurk, looking to hunt the unprepared. The shade they provided attracted nothing he wanted to run into. But aside from these, there was nothing much to see but dust.

And yet, he could feel it.

The troublesome knowledge that had been earned by a long career, which continued to assure him this trip was going to be a bad one.

Construct attacks were on the rise. Bandits were scarce as a result, but considering how dangerous those Dwarven relics were, leaving the port regions without a large group for defense was getting close to suicide. Convoys were all but forced into form, many companies merging for trips if they wanted even a small chance at getting through mostly unscathed. This caravan he was in was a perfect example. Sitting at a little over a hundred wagons, host to several Mercenary and Adventurer groups along with an escort of Empire Guards, it was one of the largest Conner had ever been a part of.

And yet, Conner was still worried.

They had already seen evidence of battles, as they made their way East. The highway was littered with broken wagons, dead Ro', and shattered Constructs. And judging by the state of the Ro' corpses, whatever conflicts had occurred were recent. Likely hitting the previous convoy that had left the port just a day prior.

These things happened, but it didn't bode well.

The City needed people like Conner. Merchants who were still willing to risk their lives to bring much needed supplies to the City of the Emperor. The Skyships alone were too few to completely stock the dwindling reserves of water and grain, and each weapon Conner helped bring along would be another tool against the Constructs. Just because he was getting paid for the effort, didn't mean this wasn't a heroic thing to do- or, at least, that was what he told himself. It was necessary work, at the very least.

And yet, all he could do to help was roll along. He could help bring the goods where they needed to go, and then turn around and do it all over again. He could help keep the systems and organizations to provide the needed goods and services, alive.

That was all he could do.

It didn't feel as though this was enough, but apart from his job, Conner had no idea what an old man like himself could possibly accomplish to change the state of things.

Most of the Empire soldiers available had already been sent East. He'd heard tales of new forts being established, new lines being set, closer to the city or remaining towns in that direction. Those soldiers who had been left behind were just thrown into patrols on the roads to accompany groups like this caravan, and they were the lucky ones, from what he'd heard. No matter how badly more forces were needed, there was no telling when those who had been sent across the ocean would return. If they did soon, Conner knew it might solve some of the problems, but ultimately that would only mean more people to feed. Which was already a problem, as thousands of refugees were coming in by the boatload, all with nothing but terrible news from across the ocean-

-And to top it all of, there were so many of these bloody earthquakes!

"Hold!" The voices shouted, bringing the caravan to a halt. "Hold!"

Voices joined in agreement, as the ground shook, causing the Ro' to snort and grunt, fighting against their reins. This was a strong one, and it wasn't but a few seconds before more shouts and voices of concern ran up and down the line. People jumped off wagons, getting clear as cargo came loose and fell. Something Conner wasn't as worried about, having checked all the ropes set for this trip, himself.

He looked out, one hand gripping the seat and his other raised for shade as he squinted in the harsh sunlight.

They were mostly on schedule. The City of the Emperor was now plainly visible in the haze of heated sand. Those giant walls were rising up from earth far off ahead, ever-present. And yet, they weren't close enough. This setback might cost them. With only a few more hours until the nightfall, he certainly didn't want to be caught out in the open, and had been very much hoping they could push through and make it the final leg of the journey today.

He held tight, as the earthquake continued.

These usually stopped within a few moments, but this one only seemed to be getting worse.

"Steady!" The voices of men and animals were joined in shouts and yelps, as the ground shifted beside the road. Cracking and rising up, like bread in an oven, or a boil that might burst at any moment.

The hair on the back of his neck was starting to stand on end, and if he had any left on his head, Conner was sure it would be there as well, as those blisters of earth ripped open.

"Monsters!" The cry rose up. "They're coming from the ground! To arms! Defend the Caravan!"

The explosions of skills and spellcasting were immediate, as armed men and women rushed to attack. Sand kicked up in giant clouds that smelled of burning, as the strongest Mages that had been hired to guard the caravan focused their efforts. Fireballs and other, perhaps more complicated spells, tore through the air, landing with deafening "cracks" and "thumps."

As the earthquake settled, then stilled, all was quiet for a moment. Those positioned beside the caravan held their weapons nervously, unable to see through the thick cover of dust.

Nothing moved.

A small cheer began to rise, as people shouted and laughed. Against the odds, Conner felt a slight grin appearing on his face. They had the numbers, and they responded quickly. Perhaps there was a chance that-

"CREEEEEEEEEEE!" Something leapt from the cloud of dust, taking down a guard in an instant. "CREEEEEEEEE!" Then, dozens more burst from the dust.

Conner cursed himself for even entertaining such a thought, reaching for a light crossbow he'd kept nearby. For all the good it might do against this kind of threat. He cranked it rapidly, his arms complaining all the while. His aim was nothing great, but he could hit a large target easily enough.

He didn't have much of a chance, though.

Jumping high into the air, the ambushing creatures landed atop the wagons, or among defenders. Ahead and behind him, he could see things of scales, of fur, of seemingly nothing but tooth and claw, or shell and pincer. Each beast more fearsome than the last. Some even tackled entire wagons off of the road, ramming them away from the rest of the group.

Their roars were deafening.

Conner was no Adventurer, but even he could see these were many cuts above the normal beasts that hunted above the surface. These were terrible and dangerous things, each marked with countless scars, showing proof of combat many times over. This would not be an easy victory.

In mere seconds, there was chaos.

Distance was a friend on a battlefield like this, and there was none of it to be had. People were already forced into melee, and with most of the people defending the wagon equipped with hammers (meant for breaking through stone) things were not going well. Those warhammers were powerful weapons, true, but they were slow, and never intended to be used on flesh. They could break bones, but drawing blood was another thing entirely.

All while the monsters attacking were lethally quick.

Of the few good hits that some of the guards managed to land in reaction to the ambush, none were enough to bring down their enemies, and the retaliations almost always were. Claws or teeth sunk into flesh, and the damage began.

Quite a few monsters shrieked in pain, but a broken limb was hardly enough to bring them down- and people were dying in droves.

Ahead, a massive lizard tore down on an unlucky mercenary. Conner watched, horrified, as it chomped through the man's armor and bone. Behind him, a nearby Mage attempted to ready another spell, but was snatched off from their high ground atop a nearby wagon by a whip-like tail, and ripped apart as other monsters dove for the kill.

All down the line, explosions went off too close to other defenders, as more spells cast, doing collateral damage. Mages clearly giving up on safety, and resorting to their best options for survival.

It wasn't enough.

In what had to have only been seconds, the creatures were hunting with impunity, as the human defenses fragmented to the ends of the convoy. Shouts and cries rallying as best they could with whoever had happened to survive the initial assault.

They were being divided up.

"Are you just going to sit here, or are we going to run?" Crashing down heavily with a grunt of pain, Conner barely kept from shooting his crossbow as Jule tumbled into to his feet beside the wagon. Quickly, the man lined up with several other men in rough formation, each of which having already drawn their bows. "Loose!" Jule shouted, as a volley of arrows launched forward. In response, a beast that looked like a bear covered in bright green fur, roared with enough power to knock several of the men over.

It had been injured, but was hardly out of the fight.

Conner felt his nose drop blood, as his vision swayed. The shout had hit him, too, and had left him in a dazed state. Confused and in pain.

The others in the caravan were moving now. Breaking free of the road, wagons in the center of the group were rolling off the side. Wheels were catching in sand and divots, as Ro' bellowed, their masters cracking whips as they made desperate manuvers to group up ahead, or turn around and join the group at the trailing end of the line. Alone, they were easy pickings for the monsters.

Coughing, Conner pointed and fired his crossbow at the nearest roaring target, before throwing the weapon behind him to thrash the reins.

He would be no help here. Conner only had skills that helped him count coin, or talk through complicate deals. The most powerful combat ability he had, involved literally throwing his coin purse at his enemy. The rare-yet-infamous [Payday] Skill, that would deliver diminishing returns the more money was thrown, but was still less powerful than a weak [Fireball] from a trained Mage. Plus, considering how little coin he actually had on him, he could use it once to any real effect, and that would be at the cost of all his available funds.

The Ro' screamed, and he found any chance of their escape had been cut off by others thinking the same thing. Wagons had tipped, Ro' were tangled up in ropes and leads. Wheels getting stuck in the sand and rocks, and other uneven terrain off the road.

Up above the scene of this terrible battle, flares were rising. Large spells, glowing bright red, hopefully signaling for aid. Either from the City, or perhaps another caravan.

Neither were likely, Conner knew. Even if it were, this was far too large an attack to fend off with a single patrol.

"Get down you old fool!" Jule's voice commanded him, as Conner was tackled from his seat. "Fire another volley!" Jule shouted, covering Conner as the green-furred monster slammed into their wagon. Long and metallic claws shredded through cloth and stone-strand boards, cleaving the wagon seats where Conner had been just a second before, as more arrows darted into its thick hide.

The beast was bleeding, badly.

"Keep shooting!" Mercenaries hollered, trying to bring the beast down before it scattered them to the other creatures, already quickly on approach. "It's weakening!"

Perhaps this was true. Blood was pouring out into the sand, but the creature's reinforcements were already upon them. Men, throwing their bows aside, to draw swords, or block with shields.

"Run, old man! Run!" Jule shoved Conner away as he drew his bow, launching a skill-enhanced arrow that duplicated to plug both the bear's eyes. As it dropped, dead or dying, he quickly he drew another arrow, turning to focus on the newest enemies. "We've got a job to do! Head towards the front!"

Then he was gone, rushing back into the fray as clouds of dust rose up from heavy impacts. His fellow Mercenaries attacking with everything they had.

Conner stumbled, rushing towards the cluster of wagons ahead. Others like him were running, but they were so much faster. He was falling behind, not able to keep up with those who were younger, fitter, healthier. His breathing was ragged, as he pushed himself. Perhaps they hadn't always been Merchants, or had been former Soldiers, or some other career that left them with the abilities they needed in dire moments like these. Had he made a mistake, living as he had? Conner wasn't very proud of his life, but he wasn't completely ashamed of it.

Maybe he was no hero. Maybe he was just a middleman, between the people who wanted something and the people providing it, and maybe he sometimes charged just a little too much: but did that mean he deserved to die here? He'd done so much, traded all over the continent. Helped villages in desperate need of goods, helped bring supplies to cities, to institutions. He'd helped people find solutions to their problems, taken orders for custom pieces and projects that needed someone like him to help make it possible.

Wolflike and snarling, a monster cut off his escape. Pitch-black fur, stained red at the mouth and paws. Smoke billowing out of its nostrils: a hell-hound if he'd ever seen one.

Not something he could ever hope to defeat.

Clutching his purse with sweaty hands, he summoned the costly skill, before flinging his only viable weapons towards it. In a scattering of gold and silver, the coins burst with brilliant flames. Their impacts enough to make the monster step back, howling in pain, but not nearly enough to kill.

As he tried to get past it, he turned towards the sudden blur of motion. Conner watched in horror as it fought through the pain and opened its jaws, moving for his torso. The final second of his life, passing before his eyes, so very quickly.

Then it stopped.

Thick teeth were shattered as they closed, not on Conner, but on a thick stone hand. Blood began to flow, and smoke began to smolder, as the hand clenched shut with sudden force to brutally shower Conner in blood and gore, as the hell-hound died without time to even howl in pain.

Light help him.

The Frogs were back.