Chapter One - The Raid

10 Griev 10.075 Z.C., Afternoon

Is revenge really worth dying for? Lilla Arven clutched the gaping javelin wound in her side, considering desertion. She crawled away from the heated battle, leaving a trail of blue blood in her wake, until she was safe behind a large chunk of rubble. Another hit like that one and she’d be done for. She rolled over, heaving as a blast of arcane artillery left a crater in the cobblestone street behind her.

Leaning her back against the cover, she closed her eyes and took several slow, deep breaths to steady herself and push away the pain so she could think. One, two, three, four, she counted, then opened her eyes, too impatient to make it all the way to ten. She needed healing so she could get back out there and seize the experimental weapon from the Legion. Then Boulder Tooth and the rest of the tribe would recognize her true greatness.

She scanned the nearby area for a healer. The Gravel Hide Clan valued resilience above all else, but even they needed healers. Many of her clanmates practiced druidic magic. These druids of the Old Ways served the clan as healers and also tamed the wild animals and plants of the overgrown rubblebelts the clan roamed through. The city-dwellers thought them all bestial savages, but Lilla knew better. In fact, Lilla would bet Gruul healers outstripped most in the sprawling city. After all, they drew primal energy from the untouched wilds and pure flame, cleaner than the polluted mana city healers used.

Several assault squads of half-ogres and cyclops ran past. At least a half-dozen Gruul slingers and archers fired upon the garrison from the cover of old shattered buildings like the one she retreated to. On the other side of her, a giant thundered by. Nearby, a pyrewild shaman chanted. As she watched, burning red mana descended on the Legion archers atop the walls of the fortress. Their gleaming steel armor shone brilliant red, heated by the cursed mana, burning the soldiers’ flesh. They screamed in pain and hid behind the crenellations.

She expected there to be a druid somewhere nearby, infusing the plants near the walls with their spiritual energy to help them crumble away the battlements. Yet there wasn’t a healer in sight, and she didn’t dare leave cover to find one. It was too risky, with an injury this severe. Lilla refused to become just another battlefield casualty.

Cursing her luck, the vedalken drew a pan flute from the pouch at her belt and grimaced at the dark smears of blood on her pale blue skin. She’d lost a lot already. Glancing around again to make sure Boros swiftblades weren’t closing in on her position, she played a soft song of healing, pushing mana through her breath into the pipes. Shimmering green magic cascaded over her body, and the gash in her abdomen knit itself back together.

Her spell complete, Lilla tucked her pan flute away and examined her side. The wound, freshly mended, didn’t look like it would scar, though the new skin would be darker blue for several days. She pressed on it and felt no more pain.

She didn’t know any spells to repair her torn and bloodied armor, unfortunately. It looked heroic though, like a minotaur gored her. Maybe she could use that in a story later. Lilla thought of Rugilar, who assigned her to this suicide squad to try and get her killed again; he would pay for this one day. She’d just have to survive this battle first.

Satisfied she wouldn’t fall to a stray arrow, she rose with a cautious hop, climbing on top of the rubble to see how her unit fared. From the sound of it, not much changed during her minute-or-so reprieve, but smoke and dust from the last artillery salvo shrouded the front. She jumped down into safety and waited for it to clear.

She'd been tasked with leading a wing of goblin berserkers into the first wave of the battle. A common tactic among the Gruul clans, especially in the Gravel Hide, but Lilla knew Rugilar sent her in the first charge in an attempt to get her killed. The hulking horn-head never liked her, and the feeling was mutual.

Unfortunately, he was also Boulder Tooth’s second-in-command and therefore a major pain in her ass. When Rugilar honored Lilla before all in the war tent by commanding her to lead the initial assault, he looked at her like a maaka sizing up its lunch. Unfortunately, she needed to prove herself to the clan and earn Boulder Tooth’s trust. If she refused this ‘honor,’ she could kiss any chance she had of getting close to him goodbye.

Peeking out from behind the rubble, she looked for her unit again. The mighty city of Ravnica sprawled beyond the battle; the Boros Legion used garrisons like this as shields to protect the bustling metropolis from the Red Wastes, Ravnica’s largest rubblebelt. Gruul raids for supplies or armaments, like this one, were common. Even with the tireless work of Legion engineers and embermages, signs of wear and overgrowth on the walls from Gruul reclaimers’ daily sapping efforts showed weakness in the soldiers’ resolve.

Examining the pitched battle in front of the Boros garrison, she saw her goblin berserkers formation broken and scattered. The second wave of Gruul fighters already replaced them, gate-crashing mountains of muscle and scar tissue pressing the advantage her goblins had carved out. Around her, soldiers and anarchs screamed war cries.

This battle was doomed from the start. She led her berserkers to the garrison in a bold charge, and the Boros responded, mustering many more soldiers than expected. The Boros repelled their initial assault without even breaking formation. While rallying the goblins who survived the first sortee, a javelin caught Lilla in the side and sent her scrambling for cover and healing. Now, she could only count a dozen of her goblin ankle shankers as they climbed onto the shoulders of larger fighters to leap into the enemy’s back line.

She knew she should rejoin the fight, try to rally her goblins again and earn some glory for herself and the clan, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. According to reports from Gruul operatives, the Boros Legion sequestered an experimental weapon in this garrison two weeks ago. Their goal today: To penetrate the garrison’s defenses and steal the weapon. Boulder Tooth was known to have a strange penchant for breaking weapons in his sizable jaws, and he wanted this weapon. What the chief wanted, the clan fought for.

A small incognito team set up a distraction on the opposite end of the Precinct earlier today to draw nearby reinforcements away from the garrison. Runners reported over twenty minutes ago that the distraction succeeded, drawing potential Legion backup away from the garrison.

Yet when the assault began, hundreds of Legion soldiers materialized out of nowhere to fortify the walls. Something didn’t add up. Either the reports were wrong, or the Legion got wind of their plan somehow. Whatever the case, the number of defenders eradicated any chance of a frontal assault like this working. The Legion outnumbered them and possessed an advantageous position, not to mention superior firepower and equipment.

Tired, she sighed, glaring absently at the red and white banners on the fortress, emblazoned with the clenched fist of the Boros Legion. Lilla felt horrible, she always did when her mana reserves ran low, and the Legion’s sudden upset soured her mood. That healing took a lot out of her, and she didn’t want to rejoin the fight. Instead, she turned back toward the command post, a plan forming in her keen vedalken mind.

She dodged between her clanmates as they ran in opposite directions - the Gruul fighters toward the pitched battle, and Lilla away. A few shot her dirty looks, but she waved them off. She charged herself with reporting the progress of the battle and the appearance of reinforcements to Rugilar. As she retreated, she kept a wary eye on the Legion’s counteroffensive skirmishers, but none seemed to notice her, much less move to pursue or shoot her in the back.

After a few minutes of running, the din of battle faded and Lilla slowed to a brisk walk, nursing her side. The new tissue throbbed in time with her rapid heartbeat. She hated fighting - with weapons anyways, they hurt a lot when they connected. She preferred battles of wit, which she often won against her Gravel Hide companions. Her sharp tongue and subterfuge helped her rocket through the ranks and made her an asset to Boulder Tooth, but a threat to Rugilar’s influence.

She hustled despite the throbbing pain in her side. She knew this would make for a great story with a few embellishments, and focusing on her fantasies to keep herself from taking a break. Before long, the command tent came into view. Lilla adjusted her hair and the tight leather bodice of her armor then picked up the pace in an effort to look heroic. Boulder Tooth’s personal guards stood outside the tent, nodding to her and lifting the tent flaps as she neared.

“Report!” she cried out for dramatic effect, ducking inside the tent.

The tent’s occupants looked up with varying degrees of surprise. Boulder Tooth, the goblin leader of the Gravel Hide Clan, scowled at the loud interruption, his cropped green ears twitching. Lilla wasn’t concerned; all of Skorik Boulder Tooth’s inner circle knew he exaggerated his temperament to make up for his size. A scowl was normal for him. Her eyes darted around the tent, taking in her audience.

Rugilar stood over a large leather battle map, rolled out on the floor, debating options with Boulder Tooth when she interrupted. Rugilar looked disappointed to see her alive. A few of the lieutenants remained in the tent, awaiting orders to lead their units into battle. To Lilla’s dismay, Nianæ among them. She and the mean-spirited satyr maintained a fierce rivalry; Lilla didn’t know why Nianæ hated her so much, but if she didn’t stand her ground and fight back, no one in the tribe would respect her.

Everyone in the tent stared at her, waiting to hear the news she brought. Boulder Tooth fiddled with a shard of necklace he wore, a trophy made of sundered weapons. Lilla stood in the entry, panting harder than her exertion warranted and posing to bring attention to her war wound.

“We are losing this battle!” the vedalken boomed, adept at projecting her voice. “The Boros cowards hid ambush troops and now outnumber us ten-to-one. We haven’t even dented their front lines, and we’re already taking heavy losses. I barely made it out alive to bring you this dire news.”

She addressed Boulder Tooth, an insult to Rugilar as her direct superior. Storm clouds gathered on the minotaur’s hardened face, but before he could interject, Lilla continued. “I have an idea which will result in total victory, snatching the weapon from the Legion and handing our tribe the day!”

Everyone in the tent stood still, waiting for Lilla to continue. Lilla basked in the aura of authority, but realized she let it go a little too long when Boulder Tooth growled, “Well are you going to share this idea, or stand there until we’re all blue in the face?”

Boulder Tooth and the others all laughed at the joke at her expense. Lilla waited, trying not to blush even bluer with embarrassment and anger. She was the only vedalken in the clan, probably in the entire guild, and they never let her forget it. By now she learned to give as good as she got, a constant target of hazing and mockery. But she knew it would be smarter to hug a hydra than snap at Boulder Tooth, so she held her tongue and waited, teeth clenched. One day, her chance would come, and they would beg for her mercy as she took her revenge out on them.

Just for a moment, she envisioned her hands wrapped around Nianæ’s scrawny neck, her blade sinking into Rugilar, and Boulder Tooth groveling before her. Finally, the laughter started to die out. Rugilar and Nianæ laughed the loudest and longest, of course.

When they finished, she cleared her throat and told Boulder Tooth her idea, keeping her tone neutral. “We should assemble an elite strike force to sneak in behind the Legion’s frontlines. With their soldiers and commanders distracted, we could get the weapon and get out before they catch onto us. There’d be no need to wage an all-out siege of the garrison.”

As soon as she uttered her last word, Lilla realized she made a mistake.

“Are you saying we should be cowards?” Boulder Tooth shrieked. In a rage, he hefted a rock holding down a corner of the map and threw it at Lilla, who ducked to avoid losing an eye. She looked around at the rest of the unfriendly faces in the tent and saw they received her idea about as well as a pain artist at a senate luncheon.

Rugilar stepped in, holding up one large hairy hand. “Sorry clan leader. I’ll take care of this.” Then, he turned to her and continued, his nostrils flaring. “I thought I gave you an order, blueskin. Assault the ramparts and take the front gate, or die trying. Now, get back out there and make an opening in their defenses, or I’ll deliver your lashes myself!” Typical of Rugilar, to use the threat of pain to force underlings back in line.

Frustrated and defeated, Lilla glared at Rugilar as she turned to go. She should have known they wouldn’t approve of any plan lacking five times more death and destruction than necessary. Behind her, she heard Nianæ mutter to the half-ogre beside her, “Everyone knows she was dropped on her head as a baby, but does she really think we’re blue-blood cowards like her?”

Exiting the tent, Lilla let her anger surge hot within her. One day, this would all be over. She would kill them all and be done with it. She still remembered the day of the Gravel Hide raid that killed her parents and left her in this situation. Nianæ didn’t know the nerve she’d hit with her comment about being dropped as a baby, Lilla assured herself, trying to push away the memories of her mother being clubbed down in front of her as Gruul raiders shouted and set fire to nearby buildings.

She’d been lucky to survive, and luckier still when she escaped during infighting over the spoils of war. She wandered through the Red Wastes for an hour, until a soft-spoken centaur hermit named Vlodim found her. He took her in and raised her as a daughter. A solitary man, he chose not to join any of the Gruul clans, instead living as a trog, slang for a lone anarch in the rubblebelt.

All those years, she’d waited and learned from him. It seemed to her that he also wanted revenge against the Gravel Hide, but he never spoke much of his past. Two years ago, she left Vlodim, ready to avenge her parents and kill Boulder Tooth. She joined the Gravel Hide Clan, and not long ago her chance arrived when the goblin invited Lilla to his inner circle. Rugilar, though, foiled every one of her attempts; he would never let her be alone in the same tent as Boulder Tooth, or even get close to him. Now, if she could get her hands on the weapon…