Chapter 18
Addendum to the truth
If you are still reading my sordid tale of misadventure, you have realized that this is not so much a retelling of events but more of a journal that documents events as they occur Admittedly, as I'm the one who reveals events and how they occur, it would not be truthful for me to say that it is the absolute truth. I've described the fights and battles, the seemingly unbounded loyalty that I inspire in my perfectly expendable warriors, the way my opponents seem to fall like wheat before the scythe irrespective of whether they are Lords or those pathetic little Dwarves. Every writer, everyone who records events as they happen, has their own perception, their own view and of course, their own level of bias towards the events being detailed. The bias comes from the fact that I am the writer who is living through these events as they happen. The truth in the coming pages is as truthful as everything else I have written, but perhaps, somewhat more grounded in its actual reality of living life permanently underground, and having forgotten, for a large part, what that big bright orb in the sky is supposed to be. Sad how the simple pleasures of life, that I used to enjoy more when I was, well, more human, are now dimly remembered things that I don't think about anymore.
The early pages of this saga give one the impression that I was actually enjoying myself more than I should have. That was a mistake, but I'm not one to actually go back and change my story and actually reveal how I really felt as a human, turned Dungeon Keeper or to be more direct about it: Human turned Demonic Monster. I killed because it was what I had to do to survive, and it is the only way to prosper. Kill the heroes and warriors of the light and kill my own when it becomes necessary. I realize now that a few events that I left out should have been included because I have made reference to them, but never explained some of the things I do. I have made the entire task of being a Dungeon Keeper look far simpler than it actually is. I have left out the fact that in the short space of time that I have been Dungeon Keeper, Lord and Master of the Black Flame, I have, in addition to conquering four different lands, survived two assassination attempts from within my own ranks.
It's never business in this world, because everything is always personal. That's how things are around here, especially when it comes to rising up from obscurity to gain a position with power, stature and influence. The most powerful of these positions, is of course, the position of Dungeon Keeper and the most powerful of Dungeon Keepers is the one who conquers the most lands and bring down the Avatar above. Nobody has yet to succeed, so for the moment, Keepers are measured with regards to how many lands they have in their possession at any one time. I hold four lands, and that puts me at the top of the list. There are numerous other Keepers, and the most dangerous of them is apparently Keeper Darkhammer. Suffice to say that his reputation precedes him and with five lands under his control, I am his greatest rival. Fortunately for me, we have yet to face each other across the battlefield.
Ascension by assassination is a popular and effective technique. The first attempt on my life, came, funnily enough, from one of the Demon Spawn. The Demon Spawn in question got very close, in fact within striking distance of finishing me off. If it had not been for Gazz, he probably would have succeeded. I killed my would-be assailant, and received numerous grievous wounds for it, not to mention a nice patchwork of crisscrossing scars along my ribs, lower spine, left hip and thigh. It was Gazz who cast the healing spell that kept me conscious and alive. If he had slain me, back when I only had the two Dungeon Hearts under my control, then that little vermin would have been able to move in and demolish the other Dungeon Heart, effectively killing me. When a Keeper dies, the Dungeon Heart that he is tied to becomes neutral, allowing the next person or creature to come in contact with it to take over control of that particular Heart, and as such, ascend to the rank of Dungeon Keeper. But if you have more than one, you are simply "reborn" at the next closest Dungeon Heart to where you perished.
The second attempt was something more dangerous, as I faced insurrection that was lead by a Skeleton King and the rest of his own "elite guard." Drahuliska and Gazz proved to be instrumental in assisting me grind them to a fine white powder with the consistency of cocaine before I ordered their traitorous remains scattered in the Four Rivers of the Underground. I don't fault Gazz even though he released them – it was my command that sent him on his little quest to free them.
The way I wrote about my first kill, it lacked seriousness, it lacked to a degree, the appropriate amount of respect it should have been given. I look back on it and also realize that it was the hardest thing that I have ever had to do in my short life. When I was young, and in my own home – in the world your reside in dear reader - I would watch movies and TV series, where you get those military guys who kill and then some of these stone cold killers start reflecting on the whole business, and they start with that, "I killed the first man, I shot him," replace "shot him" with whatever might be appropriate, "and I was surprised at how it made me feel, the guilt the pain the shock and horror at having taken another life. Then I killed the second one, and then the third, and by the time I'd killed the fourth or fifth, I'd forgotten what made killing the first one so hard."
Never in my life, have I heard anything so outrageously stupid. As someone who has killed, maimed and butchered more than his fair share, I can honestly tell you that you never forget your first true kill. I still remember that first Lord of the Land, how I gave him the option to surrender his blade, and walk away. He had too much pride, too much honor to simply take the offer. But you never forget the face – or in my case, those eyes, which showed me his emotions, his rage, and also showed me that his soul that was pure, the very purity that I daresay I once possessed, before that first kill took it from me. Of course, it could be possible that I simply have not killed enough – now there is a disturbing thought.
I make it seem like I've never been injured in any of my battles, and granted, there have been quite a few of them. I make it seem like I stroll through without fear, slaying them left and right, as if I am the scythe and my foes are the wheat. It's not true. I feel fear, I am scared, and I do hesitate. And I do remember what its like to kill that person or that whoever or whatever is on the receiving end of my blade. I don't deny that I have some humanity left in me, but most of it is dead. Perhaps someday, I'll find a way, after I'm back home, to reactivate that part of me, so that I can truly be "human" and fit in around other humans. I've got to get home first. Because until I'm home again and caught up upon the world that has probably buried me and left me behind as humans tend to do when someone they love dies, I won't need my humanity in these parts - It's more likely to get me killed than to actually save me.
The lack of humanity is a blessing and a curse, because I don't feel the pain in the acute way that humans feel it. I don't think that I can fairly call myself human anymore. I am becoming, evolving, into something else, and its definitely less human and more something else. But in spite of all that, I still bleed red blood. And my scars are the scars of a veteran, such as the trio of puncture wounds in my right thigh, knee and calf, compliments of a pair of damned Elven Archers and the one that damned near crippled me: My right collar bone that crushed bone, destroyed tendon and shredded muscle. There was a lot of blood with that one, and an exquisite amount of pain too but I don't let it slow me down. I have my injuries that have given me scars. I haven't grown weaker, I'm growing stronger. What I'm becoming is up for debate, but I know I'll try to paint a more realistic picture of the events that are to come, instead of something that reads more like a glorified fairy tale. But I believe that I have digressed enough to assuage my wounded sense of honesty and that I should continue with my narration of the events in the Land of Lush-Meadow-On-Down…
One's tactics must evolve constantly and even radically to ensure success against your enemies. Just because we've been doing this the same old way, does not mean that it'll always work. And it is a step when you go from slaughtering human heroes to slaughtering the minions of an enemy Keeper. When it's the latter, there are only two rules that must be followed: Winner takes all, and: There are no rules.
That is why I have within the confines of numerous Workshops and libraries, numerous pet projects, all of which are battlefield weapons of some form. For example, the pet project off mine, that specific weapon that has been in development, the Dragon Gunblade, is a weapon that will guarantee that I am damned near unbeatable in melee combat. Other Keepers prefer magic, and it comes down to a matter of personal preference. Range combat is not really my personal forte, but my magic is more than sufficient in that department. I prefer to feel a weapon in my hand that I can heft the weight and test the balance of, instead of any kind of magic. My magic is not so much combative, but more supportive and disruptive. The principal idea behind my use of magic is to protect myself and disrupt the spell casting, or the ranged attacks, of my foes, until I can close the distance and personally end the encounter.
In the meantime, reconnaissance work, by both myself and the few Giant Flies left in my employ had created a relatively accurate map of the enemy's position, including all of her outlying defensive outposts. While she continued to enjoy superiority in numbers against me, engaging her in direct combat would be pure suicide as she would be capable of overrunning my warriors without fail.
The Prison complex that we had successfully captured and converted to my cause had a far too centralized location for my comfort. Considering that it was located directly in the middle of the river, the very same river which separated two rival Keepers from each other, it would not be a good idea for me to even consider taking the fight to an enemy that outnumbers me substantially. Due to its less than strategic location, I had my research personnel take everything that we could need - blueprints and floor plans, before I tasked my imps with the duty of creating another cavern, this one to be converted into a Prison that is soon to be completed. All it is missing now is the prisoners, of which there is soon to be a bountiful supply of.
Drahuliska and Gazz were researching and planning a new and somewhat accelerated training regime for my forces to ensure that they would be at full strength and battle ready, while I considered fighting a different form of warfare, arguably perfected by a tactician and communist philosopher from my home world. I had studied his principles of warfare, and to put it lightly, Mao Tse Tung had perfected that form of warfare we would employ against our numerically superior opponent. Guerrilla warfare would be the most efficient for it would allow me to reduce her numerical superiority and hopefully achieve a parity of forces. The second would be to reduce the morale of her warriors by strategically targeting her Inner Circle and the leadership caste of her Dungeon. Low morale troops, without direction and leadership tend to rout easily upon the battlefield. The third would be to take prisoners that I can then convert in to Skeleton Warriors, who had already proved their worth in battle once, when their sheer resilience had proved to be more than a match for the warriors of an unfortunate Lord of the Land.
To cultivate the ranks of Skeleton Warriors I hoped to unleash, I would need living prisoners. That would mean reminding my own minions not to kill those who surrender. This would mean either stunning or rendering the enemy unconscious so that my Imps can drag their carcasses where to go. They must be alive and kicking when thrown in Prison so that their minds and bodies can be altered accordingly. Skeleton warriors make perfect shields and tankers, adequately skilled in melee combat and also able, with sufficient training, to gain elemental mastery over Lightning, allowing them to hurl potent lightning bolts to strike down enemies at range. Now the question would be of when and where to strike at my enemy to take as many prisoners as possible. A task that I left the two of my Inner Circle to resolve – Erk had a different project that he was involved with and when the time came, it would mean that my Trolls would be opponents to be terrified off, instead of simply feared.
The plan developed by the most intelligent members of my Inner Circle called for the use of guerrilla tactics to strike all six of the enemy's outlying defense outposts, which support a small garrison force of three to four warriors. The enemy's roving patrols would of course, arrive at such an outpost to find the regular garrison forces missing, have several short moments to wander around in a confused fashion before we capture as many of them as possible and kill those we have to. Should the plan work, the Black Flame would cut her forces by thirty to forty warriors, effectively halving her strength.
"It is of the highest priority to prevent them from raising the alarm. Their disappearance will weaken enemy morale, and the loss of so many of her forces so quickly will also place her on edge," said Drahuliska, "I would not count on this "Feral" to be making any further mistakes after such significant losses have been inflicted upon her forces. Most likely, she will move in force, employing search and destroy tactics to hunt us down."
"But, with our holdings consolidated upon the Southern Reaches of the river, and all of our attacks crossing it, if we leave no trace of our passage across the river, we can ensure that our location remains unknown to her. It would then take several days, I estimate three, before we would have the massed ranks of Skeleton Warriors necessary to engage and destroy Feral in a single set piece battle.
"Very well, we adapt accordingly and we move ahead as scheduled. From tomorrow, we take the fight to the enemy. And in three days time, this land will fall." If those two cannot trust each other, I don't have to fear them working against me, quite as much, "Drahuliska, Gazz, you will both lead the assaults against any two outposts of your choosing. I will lead the assault against a third. Erk and his Trolls will lead the assault against a fourth. Each of you will pick one of your fellows to lead the assault against the fifth and sixth outposts respectively."
The following day dawned quietly and peacefully and my forces were at the ready. I was leading a strike against one of the better defended positions with a lance of Bile Demons and a mixed lance of Warlocks and Demon Spawn. Four Imps were standing a little father back, somewhat fidgety but understandably so. No Imp likes being at the forefront of any battle. "Team Leaders, report readiness," I ordered quietly. Granted, the trio of Trolls and pair of Demon Spawn were of no real match for any of the forces that I had, but it would not do any good to tip our hand early and allow them to relay a warning.
"This is Gazz: Ready!"
"This is Drahuliska: Ready!"
"Erk is ready!" I'm glad that I took the time to actually get his intelligence. It makes it easier to communicate with him, makes the Workshop run more smoothly and also avoids nasty accidents – such as the one involving a certain Warlock who shall remain nameless – from occurring.
"This is Rybak: I am prepared!" the Warlock leading the assault against the fifth position seemed competent. I hope that she has not been promoted too early.
The hissing left me confused for a moment… I knew that a Dragon was leading the attack on the sixth enemy position, but I don't speak Dragon too well, and he realized that rather quickly, "Selim Wind-Ryder: Ready," a momentary pause, "apologies Keeper."
I could hear the quiet chuckles and I found myself breaking in something akin to a smile, an expression which I quickly erased from my features, as the final reports came in from the Giant Flies – the enemy patrols were all in motion, moving from one position to the next. Like a commander on thousands of other battlefields, I had awaited the dawn upon the day of battle and the sun has risen upon, "Have at them!"
The assaults were as expected – swift and brutal. In this instance the sheer toxicity of a Bile Demon's gasses were literally hurled in to the ranks of the enemy, detonating with the concussive force of a belt of Flash Bang grenades that threw the enemy to the floor, moments before the smell made its way in their lungs, causing a massive series of coughing fits that kept them on the floor. The only unaffected enemy Troll had no chance as he stood dumbstruck by the sudden ferocity of the attack. He turned to flee, only to suddenly find himself face to face with me. Grabbing either side of his head, I twisted his head with a ferocious strength that I had not known that I possessed. I heard and felt the vertebrate snap, the bones cracking like dry twigs before he fell to the floor. My Warlocks had already disabled two more of the enemy with powerful sleep spells that had left the group of already disoriented enemy forces in even worse shape, seconds before they were collectively thrown into a wall with a gusting blast of wind, stunned and unconsciousness. The reports of success came in almost overlapping each other in their rapidity.
"Gazz: Mission accomplished."
"Selim Wind-Ryder: Mission Accomplished."
"Drahuliska: Position secured."
"Erk…. We whooped 'em good Keeper!"
"Keeper, Rybak reporting: Mission successful. Captured one Demon Spawn, one Bile Demon, two Trolls, and two Warlocks."
I was starting to like this Warlock, Rybak, a lot more than I considered possible. I gave the signal to the Imps and they rushed forward, "Excellent work. Prepare yourselves. And remember that there are enemy patrols to be dealt with." So far, phase one had gone surprisingly well. Hopefully phase two would be as successful. Thus far, I'd cut her forces by about a quarter, taking a total of seventeen of her warriors. Drahuliska's foresight meant that the prison complex was large enough for up to fifty individuals.
It wound up to be something of a short wait, as the distance between the outposts was not too great. It was only another hour before they came in to view. And it took just a few minutes before we had stunned unconscious all but one Warlock, who refused to succumb, sending both of my Demon Spawn flying through the air to slam into a wall, the crack of broken bones audible before consciousness faded. This particular opponent moved with a lithe agility as he side stepped and evaded every brute force blow from a pair of my Bile Demons who were getting extremely aggravated with the sheer reluctance of this Warlock to join his comrades in their current catatonic state.
I drew my newest weapon and waded, even as the Warlocks hurled spells with pinpoint accuracy, forcing the enemy to conjure a powerful shield that glimmered in the dim light, spells rebounding from the golden barrier. His shield is designed to stop magical attacks, and standing still does little to counter against physical blows, as I came in sight just as I struck, the Cloak of Shadows dissipating around me. The heavy serrated blade slashed and tore in the arm, before a hard twist and jerk cast the enemy Warlock off balance and on to the floor. Long enough for the heavy pommel and handle of my weapon to smash the side of his skull, drawing blood and leaving him unconscious.
My Imps raced forward, grabbing the unconscious patrol, while I swept up the two youngish Demon Spawn and piled them over my shoulder, starting the trek back across the bridge to friendly territory where the Keeper's Hand waited, to transport us all back to my Dungeon… where a lot of different creatures and people were in for a very horrible death. But that is the price of victory. At least, I know that I'm going to be telling myself that for several days to come, just so that I can get a decent night of sleep. I've lost enough of my soul and humanity as it is… and I need to somehow preserve whatever I have left, because that humanity will have to be used when I return home.
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