Who in their right mind would kick someone awake? I’ll tell you who, Postman Oak. So here I find myself, a simple statement of 'Grab your equipment' and now we're walking through the desert straight towards enemy territory.

Turns out Oak got the order to scout the enemy’s main camp in the Forest of Exodus, Lieutenant General Hadrian was also nice enough to allow him to take someone else. Of course, that someone else is me.

It’s a full moon tonight, bright enough for us to see any patrols. Usually travel at such a time would be a bad idea, but the beastman have spells to help them see in the pitch black, we on the other hand can’t see shit, so we are leaving at night simply because more people will be asleep.

Oak is just ahead of me, crouched low using the rocky valleys and sandy dunes to try to cut off line of sight if possible. Honestly, enemy patrols should be pretty drained, the Colonel Oberfell lead a massive attack that has the enemy on the backfoot, we've been taking ground faster than our supply lands can handle. The Wordsmith definitely sent the right man for the job.

Oak holds up a signal to stop, I go prone and bring my rifle to bear. I keep my weight on my elbows allowing my breath to be steady. A spoiled breath is often a spoiled shot.

I can’t see or hear anyone, but Oak is looking intently over a rocky outcropping. He pats the stone next to him. I find a place next to him

in the distance is the silhouette of figures. They walk using the butts of their spears against the packed sand. Unfortunately for us they also seem to be heading in or direction.

Oak pulls me from the rocky out cropping and leads me father back to where the stone meet soft pliable sand. Reaching into his bag oak pulls out his camping blanket. Doing the same, I follow along as Oak digs himself slightly into the sand and cover himself with the blanket. In the dark he looks like an odd protrusion in the dune, but whatever that much better than looking like a human on a dune.

I remained covered trying my best to be as silent as possible. The footsteps grew louder, and I could hear their passing conversation.

"King's been offering gold, hiring any adventuring and monster hunting team he can get his hands on."

Oh, by the Wordsmith that man’s accent is barely intelligible.

"Hah, let’s see how those Forsaken deal with the best of the best."

Ahh, the second one is much more understandable.

"I wouldn’t be too sure, the Forsaken are a much different breed of monster, too damn smart and they can replace a body and outfit it with steel almost immediately. An adventurer is a culmination of our best training and enchanted gear that’s almost impossible to replace. Each one lost is one less clearing dungeons and killing monsters. Anyways, the treasuries going to be drained by this rate. Do you really want to win this war only for your earnings to be taxed to the underworld?”

A third voice, how many are there?

"Damnit Matthaeus! Things are hard enough, just shut your trap."

A female voice. The men so weak they need their women to fight for them.

The footsteps are agonizingly close. The pounding of probably a dozen or so soldiers.

*thud*

A foot glances of my thigh and a soldier stumbles. Any second now a spear is going to tear through this flimsy blanket. The chainmail of my shirt might be strong enough...might.

A breath passes, no spear.

A second passes, no spear.

A minute passes, and the footsteps grow dimmer.

What! Are you serious! I thought the Beastmen were dumb, but their senses are at least ABOVE human. I hear rustling as Oak begins to rise from his blanket. The doesn’t even say a thing, just signals for us to begin walking again.

No more close encounters with enemy patrols, but it’s a full day’s journey to reach the supposed location of the base. We bed down for the day in the crags of a stone rising proudly from the reddish sand. I had first watch. It’ll be a long night, uhmmm day I mean.

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We've been moving quite some time. The reddish sand has given way to packed soils of various reddish hues, probably more clay than anything else. It makes walking much more comfortable, walking on the loose sand was terrible on the ankles.

*Squaaaaaack*

*Squaaaaaaaaaaak*

Some evidence we're getting closer to the target, harpies. The Ministry of Defense put up bounties on all of these magical pests years ago. It was pretty effective, so much so that this is the first time I’ve seen one in my entire life.

Grotesque things, a disgusting mix of the blessed human form and that of a bird. A particular 'bird' is watching us, its eyes flash with a disturbing intelligence.

"It wants food. It knows we have it. Protect your bag." Oak's voice is barely above a whisper.

We're following alongside the supply train's main road. Every few hours or so we see a lone wagon or two carrying supplies to the front. its surprising they would do something as exceptionally dangerous as to transport war material at night, but it’s something we can take advantage of if we get this information back to base.

Up ahead is a fire slightly obfuscated by a cliff face. Oak gestures to climb the cliff. Slinging my Carbine behind my back, I grab onto the cliff face. Thankfully the cliff face is hard stone and not that damn sand stone that crumbles under touch.

The stone digs into my hands, but all postmen are required to be able to proficiently climb. The mountains back home are much tougher than this rocky plateau.

Reaching the top, we have a clear view of the fire. The small fire is surrounded by two tents, three beastman sleep on the ground, and two others remain awake to watch the supply train's path. It’s safe to assume seven people then, no way they would be sleeping on the ground if the tents were empty.

Oak gestures to back off. It would be invaluable if we could steal the patrol maps, but that isn’t the main objective. Unfortunately, now we have to take the long way around. Something catches my eye before either of us begins our descent. A purple moss that grows on the side of rocks containing magical lodestones.

I point this out to oak and knows my plan immediately. This purple moss is referred to as Mana Thief moss. If burned it creates a smoke that when inhaled damages the magical pathways and causes them to misfire, one huff and your knocked out. As far as either me or Oak knows the Ministry of Defense hasn’t been able to weaponize it yet. We on the other hand easily can.

Taking my bayonet, I remove a chunk of the stuff, its scent is sugary and sweet almost like a honey. I take a small bag from my side and place the moss and a few rocks inside, so it will actually fall on target and not blow away in the wind.

Oak readies his rifle, some Beastmen have an immunity to Mana thief moss so it’s better to err on the side of caution. With a deep breath I gently lob the pouch over the cliff and into the small burning fire. A flash of sparks erupts, and the logs are disturbed, but more importantly thin wisps of darkish grey smoke rise from the fire.

The two guards look around alarmed, but quickly enough they begin to vomit. Next, they are gripped by a rather severe seizure, and that only stops when they lose all possible definitions of consciousness. It’s much easier to kill them when they can’t defend themselves.

I ready my Carbine too, two is better than one. Seems like it was all for noth

A bolt of energy lances from the tent into the cliff face pulverizing it in a large plume of debris. Great gouts of stone flying every which way. It’s impossible to keep footing, the very stones underneath my feet crumbling into dust.

Faster faster faster, I’m building momentum trying to have some semblance of control over this fall. Umph, landing on the uneven stones breaks my fall. Get up some one launched that spell.

I roll over to my side, luckily my rifle is still at hand armed and ready.

"Poison hath no hold."

Oh, shut the fuck up, a mage who can shorten chants. Might've screwed the goose here. I can hear some groans coming from the poisoned guards, but thankfully it seems like the spell didn’t wake everyone.

The falling stone generated a smoke screen thankful so I’m able to move with some degree of freedom. Crouching low I sprint toward were the two bodies of the guards should be. both are rising to the feet, unsteady.

Holding my carbine in my left, my right hand frees my bayonet. I bowl over the first guard slashing out with the knife. The hardened leather he wears easily stops the slash, that’s no issues. Keeping on my feet, the second guard see me and tries to pull free a war hammer, unfortunately for him Warhammers require distance to strike effectively.

I stay close to the broad man’s body, keeping inside his swing and also preventing that damn mage from using a spell. I jab harshly at the man’s stomach with 16 inches of cold steel, but that damn leather is tough as hell and turns away the blade. Chest is to armored aim for face. A wild swing of my bayonet. The pommel of his hammer finds its way into my shoulder spoiling the swing.

I can hear the bark of a rifle, I just hoped Oak killed what he aimed for. The hammer man, manages to push me back and utilize his greater reach.

Now that we have some distance I can properly see the man. A burly bastard rippling with muscles, scars cover his shaggy head, leaving his hair growing in wild patterns. A set of some kind of feline predator’s ears sits on his ears. The man opens his mouth to speak. Damn If I try to stop him he'll just brain me with the hammer.

"POUND BY POUND, INCH BY INCH, EARTH SHAKE AND QUIVER THEN RIP!"

Of course, nothing happens. He just got poisoned by Mana Thief Moss. So, the confused beastman faltered as his spell failed, the beastman was doubly confused when my bayonet I sent sailing slammed into his face. Shit, I messed up the rotation on the blade.

Sprint forward and draw another knife. The Tiger lacks any armor below his waist. The beast still reeling I slam into his legs, wrap my arms a twist. This does the job taking him to the ground. I blindly stab into the Beasts big fleshy thigh, but no sprouts of arterial blood are coming out.

The pommel of the hammer descends on my back, my leather coat and chainmail prevent its sharpened tip from killing me.

With another stab a torrent of blood spray over me, a strong coppery taste. Got the sons of bitch's femoral artery or whatever the Beastman's equivalent is. A few more heart beats later and the much larger man stops struggling.

Reposition my rifle to both hands I survey the situation. A pool of blood gathers around the other guard, and currently Oak is fighter some lizard tailed beast woman who wields both her tail and dagger to great proficiency. The mage stands to the side, panting for breath.

I bring my rifle up, aim and squeezing the trigger. The flint descends sparking the gunpowder, sending my lead minie ball straight into the torso of that tailed abomination. Dropping the carbine, I spring towards the mage knowing Oak will be doing the same.

Pull free your side arm fire. The lead deforms over a man shield formed in front of the women. it’s no matter any time she keeps up the mana shield she’s not casting another spell. I hear another crack of a pistol as Oak does the same thing.

Without a chant the mage summons a bolt of electricity, not begin enough to kill, but damn near close. With a heave the ball races towards Oak. The wizened Postman already threw a throwing knife that disrupts the lightning forcing it to arc into the metal and not the man. The woman eyes widen as she summons more lightning.

In one quick motion, a throwing knife is launched towards the unsuspecting woman. The blade finds no purchase on skin, bouncing of more of that damn leather armor! What in the Wordsmith is that made from!

The Beast bitch is panicking, glancing between me and Oak. She reeks of desperation.

"Thy body is worthy!"

I reach the woman before Oak. I lash out with another throwing knife slashing at her face. She moved! My body is in the air. Some kind of throw!?!? The spell!

Crashing towards the ground I force my body to roll. Lucky for me, the beast bitch didn’t just slam me into the ground. Oak is engaging her, avoiding every punch with ease. Each blow is riddled with power. One punch is a death sentence.

To my side is one of the dead bodies of the guards, the one Oak killed earlier. His weapon is within reach. A spear.

I grab the spear and rush towards the fight. Oak pushes forward seeing my charge. In a flurry of swings the beastwoman is battered by cuts, the only reason she lives is that damn armor. Oak rolls backwards before the mage can respond.

She tries to clip him with a punch horribly over extending herself. Seeing my opening I lunged forward, the spear head easily slipping into her side. She groans pitifully.

The mage slams an elbow into the spears haft snapping it in grand splinters. I back off trying to see what Oak wants to try next.

"You got something important kid! Just keep up the pressure so she can’t switch to a healing spell!"

Like a pair of wolves, we nip and prod at her defenses giving her shallow cuts but threatening much more. She, much like a wounded animal lashes out, but even with her increased speed and strength lack the training and finesse to utilize it.

The mage falls to her knees breathing shallowly. Oak stands to the side loading his carbine he picked up off the ground.

The mage stares at the sky gibbering.

"The Hunters of Lisa, we weren’t supposed to die this way. I shouldn’t have agreed to this."

She begins to sob openly and looks longingly at the corpse of the hammer man.

" Jeremiah I’m sorry! I love you! I just wasn’t brave enough to say it! Please find me in the next life, I’m so lost without you."

I walk towards the hammerman’s corpse. The woman really begins to gibber and sob when I lift him and start to drag him. I pull the heavy bastard over towards the woman placing him at her feet.

She looks up at me and beams a snotty pale smile, I guess she does have a beautiful face.

"Thank you"

She cradles him in her arms while muttering into his still chest. Oak steps behind her rifle at the ready. Leaning over he places the rifle to the back of her head.

*Boom*

Oak turns to me.

"That was nice of you."

I guess it was.