A/R:
women ruiz: Yeah, Paravon has almost always gotten the short end of the stick on most of the playthroughs I've gone through. I actually grew to feel bad for them to the point that this is my way of giving back. And right now you're actually correct. If Lyle were to get head-to-head with King Louen right now, he might put up a good fight, but ultimately the Bretonnian army would win. Never mind that Lyle was unable to last long in a single fight, but Louen fought more battles than the number of years that Lyle has lived. It wouldn't be the first time he's dealt with gunpowder either since he's worked with the Empire and Karl Franz before. Lyle would need an equalizer to have a chance.
JustAMoron: Well, thank you very much my man! I'm glad I could entertain!
Aymen El Kadouri: Yeah, there are fewer people in the Old World done as dirty as the peasants of Bretonnia. It's why I have so much sympathy for them. When you have a people as poorly fed and educated for THIS long, that generational poverty stretches for miles.
Malgarth: I'm actually glad that someone thinks this way. While the Wood Elves definitely have their problems and are standoffish to say the least they aren't inherently evil. They're just quite selfish about themselves and their own race as well as the state of their own forest. That being said, even if I don't personally care for the wood elves, they've still done some good. They've helped Bretonnia and King Louen in the past as well as being the main reason Karl Franz has survived multiple assassination attempts before he even became Emperor. Whether they'll manage to start doing the right thing soon enough in this story is another matter entirely. Also don't worry. I can't fault a man for liking women for pointy ears.
DarkWarrior41: Don't worry. I already have an idea of how to use some of your ideas. I'll be sending you a message when I get to the chapter in particular where we can utilize this in the story. It's gonna take a set of chapters to get there however, but we'll get there all the same.
Immage: Okay, I'll admit. I love that idea. I'm slapping myself as we speak for not thinking of that myself, and I'll definitely be incorporating that. It's a great way to keep the undead ranks supplied and to alter the Bretonnian peasant culture. Also thank you for the gun recommendations. I'd been rummaging around for ideas about that but hadn't come up with anything concrete, but that will definitely help.
zerkil: Lol, he's definitely in for a surprise for how things are in the sack with Nalga. But, something tells me that Lyle won't mind. And trust me, when Lyle realizes just what Bloodbowl is derived from he's going to have a fit. Believe that. Also don't worry about the quotes. It's really all in just good fun and if people flame me I can take it.
Haldir639: Oh if Lyle had a hint more of Machiavellen in him, you can bet he'd be taking Parravon and then some. That being said even though he has a streak of ruthlessness in him which can be egged on by his advisors. That being said, Lyle is a tad too kind to be that deplorable, especially if it's for people who are in need.
100 fires: Cause he kind of was, lol. All just for a bit of laughs. I wish you luck in Florida my man.
Annoying POW marine: That's a very understandable critique and I actually agree with you. Considering the variety of Italian food I've had over the years I'll be looking to correct that post-haste.
Focus of the Future: I appreciate the love your giving for this chapter. And yeah, the fear that Jacquette has is understandable considering that her family's only savior is in the form of a man whose looking to undo the social structures of your country and with the support of the peasant class they've lorded over. I know I'd be shitting bricks. Appreciate the love, man!
dadg12346: I was hoping someone would pick up on Andrew Ryan's speech! I've always been a fan of the Bioshock series and to this day the first game is the best game to me. And yeah, I've been waiting for the perfect opportunity to break out these uniforms and this whole event just finally gave me the perfect excuse to do so.
Cyan Sung-Sun: It's definitely a fine-line that Lyle has to walk. After all, while many of the peasants are more than willing to buy what Lyle is saying, they may eventually have issues with his anti-relgious stance and rhetoric. Lyle may be smart enough to not say anything about that, but the question is whether or not he can keep that perspective under wraps.
RandomSovietFarmer: That presidential thought was tempting but I had to reel it in. And believe me, after you this chapter you'll see just how much cope is going into the Enchantress's lungs. And hells to the yes, I love the appreciation for the Napoleonic drip. I just wish I had some sweet artwork to go with it. Sadly I'm no artist.
…
"You don't make this any easier for yourself or for me, young man. I do sincerely hope that you realize that."
Ham continued to glare defiantly, proud of the courage he was displaying despite the punches and kicks that he received from some of the knights who had tried to get him to speak when they managed to snare him…or rather, when SHE ensnared him.
He had to admit, though. Even though Ham was proud of the strong front that he was putting up, it didn't change the fact that he felt like wetting his pants when he stared into the eyes of his captor. Those furious, glowing green eyes that seemed to be looking through him rather than at him.
The Fay Enchantress hovered in front of him like a wrothful demi-god. An avatar of fury that stared down and judged him as the very vines that snared him earlier now bound him as he was forced on his knees.
"This has gone on for too long for the Lady to suffer." She declared as her eyes glowed ever brighter. "Do you value your life so little?"
As if you and the Lady ever cared. It was burning thoughts like that which kept Ham's lips sealed. She said many things up until this point that were trying to portray herself as the liberator, with the irony not lost on him.
His face must have given too much away as that glowing glare drifted closer to her face. "Spoletta's promises must have sunk deeply for you to have held your tongue this long. A shame that you won't live to see how incapable he is at not delivering those promises. That is, of course, unless you can help end this war sooner rather than later."
Looking away, Ham hoped to give himself a reprieve from those eyes that unnerved him every second he met them, but it was not meant to be when one of the roots wrapped around his forehead yanked his eyes back up.
"Are you so determined to hide your shame from the avatar of your goddess?"
Finally, after days of abuse and captivity, Ham could no longer hold his tongue, tears building in the corner of his eyes as they were forced to meet that green hue. "Lord Lyle…did more for us in a few months than you and the Lady…did for us in centuries."
Morgiana raised an eyebrow. "So he speaks. Do you even know what centuries are, boy?"
"Maybe not…but I know for however long they are…Lord Lyl-
"That boy is not a lord." Her voice echoed throughout the tent as her frown pulled tightly. "That boy is a rebel. A charlatan playing king and liberator without any care for the ramifications of his actions. And you who know no better about those ramifications are latching onto them like a drowning man."
Tears began to stream down Ham's face. It felt like the green was starting to sear into his brain. "Y-you…who…who starved us?"
"He's spoiled you lot. Not unlike a noble who desires more even after a blessing from the lady. Fed you too much too quickly. Do you know how many of your fellow peasants he puts at risk to be executed for having this feeling spread?"
The words began to burn more than the eyes did, and Ham tried to spit at this fay creature's near-perfect face. But his lip trembled too much, and all that came out was a dollop of spit that dribbled down his mouth.
Then he saw her raise her hand. A hand that glowed as green as her eyes. "I'm almost impressed by how stubborn you've proven to be. A shame such a level of determination could not be appropriately directed to serving the lady beyond dea-
"Enchantress."
Morgiana huffed through her nose and any part of her that had been glowing ceased. She turned around and met the stern and even stare of Repanse De Lyonese.
"Warmaiden. I did not call for you."
"I am aware. I came to ask what is to be done of the villagers that we cut off from reaching Castle Bastonne. The numbers that we've been accumulating are starting to number in the thousands."
"Throw them in with the rest that we've captured. It's only fitting they help move logistics since they've taken it upon themselves to leave their villages without authorization."
"...some of these people are women and children, Enchantress. "
Morgiana Le Fay looked as though she was going to say something heated only to reign in her emotions. Or rather, it looked as though SOMETHING did the reigning for her. "I suppose…they can be separated."
"If it's not too much trouble, Enchantress, could you direct the knights to properly convey these wishes? Since you've assigned knights we've acquired from Carcassonne to head this task up, they're more likely to listen to your holy word than mine?"
A knowing smirk curved into Morgianna's face. "Come now, my dear. If you desire to have your overt intentions known, then simply let them be known."
"If you insist. There are better ways to interrogate prisoners, my lady."
"Assuming your methods could supersede that of the Lady is bold."
"Not supercede. Support." Repanse's face didn't give an inch. "If you do not wish for such support, I am ultimately subservient to the Lady's will."
For a moment, Ham thought there would be a confrontation, and if he were honest with himself, he wouldn't mind that. Oh sure, the two women seemed to be cordial and respectful on the outside, but he'd seen what had happened when two women had argued before. Specifically, when Ave had argued with another woman about a man or a goat…he couldn't quite recall, given how much mental anguish he was in right now.
Unfortunately, a confrontation was not met, and instead, Morgiana's smirk turned into a sickeningly sweet smile. "I would be remiss to doubt the word of someone who has loyally toiled for the Lady as you have for years, Repanse De Lyonese." Just like that, she hovered out of the Paladin's way, glancing at the dark-haired woman, who allowed her to approach Ham. "I do sincerely hope you find success. If not, then fret not. I can pick up where we both left off." And just like that, she hovered out of the tent, allowing Ham to feel like a weight had been lifted off his soul and allowing him to breathe easily.
Alas, that could only last so long when Repanse De Lyonese knelt before him. Her face was as still as stone, and for a moment, Ham was sure she would strike him as Enchantress did. He'd heard stories of the Warmaiden from Lyonese, same as everyone, and though they were sparse and hard to hear from his time back in Riffen, it was almost jarring to see such a striking yet stern legend in front of him.
Which is why it surprised him when she produced a water-skin, opening up the top and gesturing it toward his mouth. "Have they quenched your thirst yet?"
"I…no, not yet. Not since yesterday." His throat WAS feeling rather dry. When she pressed the waterskin against his lips, his eyes lit up once the sudden flavor hit his tongue, making him nearly sputter as he downed what he realized was wine. Wine that tasted like fruity nectar on his tongue after being deprived of any liquid for a good while.
After a few desperate gulps, he pulled away, his eyes wide but grateful as he savored the taste. "Th-thanks. Haven't had a swig like that since I was with Lord Lyle."
"Think nothing of it…though I have to admit, I'm surprised to hear that about Lord Lyle." Repanse admitted, fighting down on the urge to refute that claim, having to accept as such, considering what she'd heard about the foreigner from other peasants. "Though perhaps I shouldn't at this point."
Realizing he may have said too much, Ham looked away. Yet, at the same time, much like Repanse, he also felt an urge to speak up. Albeit for different reasons. "You're damn right ya shouldn't! Lord Lyle's the greatest this land's ever seen, and it's about time someone like him came strollin' along!"
Just like that, Ham once again thought he was about to receive a lashing for opening his mouth again, but while Repanse did frown tightly, she offered more of the wine skin. While he was wary, Ham still had a thirst to quench, so the peasant sought to sate it by drinking more and taking more greedy gulps that felt warm down his throat and his belly.
"So you've met Spoletta then?"
"Met em'? Feh! I was saved by him! Fought by him!" Ham boasted, feeling a rush to his head as he felt more courageous than he had been since getting captured. "He even saved me twice! Once from some goblins n' orks! Twice from nobles that were tryin' to sell me n' me friends off for coin!"
Repanse reared back and wasn't able to hold back her shock. Not so much that it was new but to hear the accusation that she had heard before. She was more shocked to hear someone who had been directly involved in the shameful fiasco directly.
She offered the wineskin. This only surprised Ham further when she didn't immediately reject his words outright. Again, feeling that nagging thirst, he drank further. And further.
After fifteen minutes of this, Ham had spoken or rather boasted a great deal about Lyle Spoletta. Confirming much about the settlements that they had crossed and…dealt with. Including the people, the villagers, whom they had intercepted on the way to Bastonne with others who had either received compensation from the Barrow Legion or had family members that had been sold to the druchii.
He spoke glowingly of Lyle as if the foreign necromancer was the King of Bretonnia in all but name, and it was jarring as much as it was terrifying. Did so many peasants truly believe in Lyle Spoletta? Did so many genuinely think that he was working in their best interests? Were they just simply swayed by the ideals that Lyle was spouting, whether true or not? Even if the foreign tyrant's tongue were spewing lies, it would be odd for someone like him to go so far as to liberate some peasants who would offer him nothing but propaganda. Sure, she could claim that he was ill-willed, but actions often spoke louder than words. Even if Spoletta had profited from his actions in gaining the people's good will, he could have easily oppressed and subjugated them much in the same way the undead that often propagated Mousillon did.
And it was why she could not wholly fault peasants like dear Ham here, even if he did have fond feelings for the enemy. "And he trusted you to spread the word of this festival to the surrounding settlements?"
"Course he did!" the young man slurred an affronted look on his face with a slight hint of color to his cheeks. "I mean, why wouldn't he? After the battle of Bastonne me n' the rest of us decorated musketeers were among some o' Lord Lyle's must trusted soldiers, I reckon! I like ta think we did the most damage against all them beastmen, goblins n' nobles when they came barrelin' in to kill us!"
"So there WAS a battle." Scouts sent deep into Bastonnian territory had gotten word that some grand confrontation had occurred. When she heard that multiple armies had gotten involved, she and other knights were skeptical until Morgianna confirmed it as such, looking frustrated that they wouldn't be able to capitalize and meet up with King Louen's army in time. A lot of that was due to them having to intercept so many traveling peasants who were on their way to the castle, which only added to the number on this march they were going on.
"Oh, there was a battle, awright. A battle like nothin' other!" Ham hicked, fully intoxicated with the alcohol starting to pour into his system, thanks in part because he had been fed precious little since his capture and drank rapidly in large quantities. It never ceased to surprise the paladin how quickly even her own men could get from copious drink on the campaign. "You shoulda seen it! Me n' the lads facing off against goblins n' beastmen! Harpies trying to tear out our eyes n' throats! It was madness the likes Oi hadn't seen since my village." After taking another quick sip of his wine skin. "So anyways, right? Me n' the lads started blastin'. Bam, bam, bam, bam!" He sputtered his voice in screwed concentration to replay the events in his mind. "N' lord Lyle! He was taken away by one of da beasty men with wings, but he's fightin' him off! Then he's fightin' some fat goblin off n' then a grail knight off, n' he's putin' the paws and his staff on all of em'! He was like one o' the heroes in legend!"
"I…I see." She couldn't say that Ham's storytelling was true or not, but given the other madness that had happened in her country since she'd departed to Araby, she couldn't toss it out. "And Lyle was victorious?"
"AYE! Beyond victorious! He fought all o' those dastards n' bastards off single handed I say!...until he was a victim of a sneak attack! A dastard-YEEEEEE!" Ham screeched as an arrow pierced the tent they were in, halfway through the flap and nearly poking his arm, but stopping just a hairs breath. Almost immediately, Repanse got onto her feet on instinct and got her short sword out, her teeth clenched as she grabbed Ham and tried to pull him behind her only to realize the roots that kept him ensnared were keeping him place. She winced, waiting for any further arrows, wondering if perhaps this was a sneak attack, only to realize that there was a note attached at the end of the arrowhead.
Keeping a hand on her blade, the Warmaiden quickly removed the arrow and unfurled the message. Her eyes widened once she saw its contents with any plan in her mind being halted when Ham started sputtering, his eyes wide.
"I-it's the knife ears! Th-they've come to kill me like they tried to kill Lord Lyle!"
Repanse looked lost. "I…I don't follow y-wait, are you speaking of the wood elves? They tried to kill Spoletta?"
"And nearly succeeded! By the Gods they're not going to stop until we're all dead!" Though the shock of the assassination attempt had partially knocked him out of the stupor Ham had been put in, the alcohol was now making paranoid. "We're dead! All dead! Gonna d-
"Sshh!" The warmaiden, hissed, pressing a hand against the man's lips. "It was not the Asrai. At least not this time." Her eyes shifted around before she sighed, taking out a handkerchief and starting to tie it out around the man's lips even as he protested at the sudden move. "Merci. I must act on this alone."
And so she did. But, the heroine of Bretonnia did not come alone. On the contrary, she made sure that she brought her most trusted companion. Officially, she was on a scouting mission. Unofficially she was meeting with a man she had worked with countless times to save Bretonnia before she launched her Errantry war on Araby as had been requested of her by the Lady.
It was why she was so willing to go despite Henri giving his reservations as usual. "These are especially dangerous times, my lady. We should have brought m-
"More men would draw more eyes and questions. Questions I don't feel comfortable asking especially if the Enchantress starts asking them of me. Besides, he won't attack me. You should know that by now."
Henri didn't comment further for her sake, if nothing else, but she could still feel the reservations. She couldn't blame Henri, ultimately. He was only looking after her as he often did.
They had reached the edge of a forest near their war camp and had just entered them when she heard a quick whistle. Repanse saw Henri's arm twitch, but thankfully he didn't draw his sword, opting to instead only keep his hand gripped around the pommel.
They waited for a moment before, ultimately, their patience was rewarded. Two figures met them, and they were all too familiar to the Warmaiden despite the large amount of time it had been since she had seen the two. A man of average but fit stature, while the other was muscular as he was immense. Yet now that she squinted, her eyes saw a more petite and more feminine figure she was unfamiliar with. One which seemed to have most of her face and body covered with a shock of fiery red hair poking out from beneath her hood.
Anyone else would have been worried about being outnumbered in this situation. But not Repanse. Not when she knew Bertrand De Bergerac so well. "You were more direct with your invitation this time, old friend."
"Oh? So we're still friends!" Bertrand smiled noticeably, keeping his difference. "I'm relieved to hear that despite the chaos! I'd offer you a drink n' a revelry but…ah, I don't feel it would be right without good ol' Gui."
The rotund man's absence WAS noteworthy. "He hasn't passed, has he?"
"Goodness, no!" The Brigand laughed. "You think the big man himself would perish before he's tasted all manner of wines!?"
Repanse felt herself smile. "If the Lady was willing, I would hope not."
"For certain and for hope, it's one of the few things we can hope someone to accomplish…speaking of the Lady, how IS her avatar doing these days? Is Morgiana still slaughtering peasants or rounding them up for the slaughter, as I've heard?"
And just like that, the burgeoning cheer and warm reunion had died as quickly as it started, Repanse's mouth becoming as tight as her stomach.
She must have taken too long to respond since Henri spoke up first defensively. "We are not slaughtering peasants, Bertrand."
"I didn't say you, knight. I do recall using Morgiana's name." The peasant muttered to himself, putting on a mock thinking position. "Then again, perhaps you protest too much?"
"Careful Bertrand."
"Oh, I've been very careful these past few months. Especially these past few days as a matter of fact. When you hear stories about how peasants are being treated, one in my position can't help but be careful."
Repanse didn't even bother trying to deny it. "How did you find out?"
"Ah, you mean how did I find out despite our Enchantress demanding otherwise." He folded his arms. "Now THAT would be telling."
"It's not what I wanted, Bertrand."
"I know. It's why this is all the more unfortunate, really." He sighed. "But I'll tell you ONE of the ways I found out. I couldn't have done it without the help of one of our female members here. She's gotten rather good at being unseen, given her…condition."
The attention was then on the young girl's intention, who seemed to be boring a hole into Repanse as if looking her up and down clinically. Before Repanse could question what exactly Bertrand meant, the red-head spoke first. "Name's Ave…heard stories about you in my village. Heard…heard you managed to beat warlords single-handedly with faith and faith alone. I remember bein' jealous o' ya."
"...I…I see."
"You have a friend o' mine. Someone from my village-or what's left of it. Someone who I'd hate for anythin' bad to happen to him." Ave's frown became tight. "I respect ya, Warmaiden. But, if anythin' happens to Ham, don't expect me to be womanly about it."
"I won't harm him." And Repanse meant as she bristled and spoke with conviction. "I don't needlessly harm prisoners, especially when they're just misguided young men like him."
"And what of the Lady? Can you promise me that she won't share her wrath through the Enchantress?"
Deflecting from a question that she knew she couldn't answer, she turned her attention back to Bertrand. "Is that what you brought me here for? You want one of Spoletta's men released?" Now it was her turn to frown deeply. "I know that you've always been one for the common people, Bertrand, and I admire you for it. But, to ask for the release of one of Spoletta's most trusted men! A necromancer at that!"
"He is, yes. Ave here has confirmed as much."
"And yet you support this?" Repanse asked aghast. "I know you're disappointed with Morgianna's actions, but you've never openly supported a direct enemy of Bretonnia! Even if you were bringing a misguided or corrupt noble to jusitc-
"And I'm still not. I'm simply doing what I always do." The leader of the outlaws said with a wide smile. "Helping peasants that have been mistreated, misaligned, and harmed in an unjust way. It's as you said. He's a misguided young man, is he not?"
"You know full well that's not the same thing. You're helping an enemy of the nation, and I cannot stand for it!" The Warmaiden said with outrage that she was almost forcing at this point.
"I'm not doing anything. You're the ones who are gathering up crowds of our fellow peasants and forcing them to work against their will, are you not? I'm simply addressing the matter in a…how do nobles call it…'cordial' manner. Would you prefer I handle this the same way I handle other nobles who mistreat the common folk?" He then shrugged his arms as if actually asking her. "I can do that if that's what you would prefer?"
Calming her and massaging her temple, she shook her head. "The last thing we need…is for more Bretonnians to shed one another's blood."
"Bit late for that, if ya ask me."
"Fine! Any more blood." Her eyes then widened in a sudden bout of realization. "Have you spoken with Spoletta?"
"Not yet."
"Not y-" Her breathing hitched as she suddenly came to another realization. Something that Repanse wished she had come to the conclusion to sooner. "Gui."
"You catch on fast." Bertrand admitted not bothering to hide the open secret. "To be honest, I'm quite interested in Spoletta myself. He's a necromancer, which may be true, but he's a living contradiction if I've ever seen one. I'd meet him meself, but alas, I have to take up my precious time to talk with you my friend." He then elbowed Hugo, who had been staring a stoic hole into both the knights. "Sides'! I'd hate to ruin Gui's chance to try new wines at this festival that Spoletta's holding, eh?"
"Quite." Hugo agreed, speaking for the first time.
"One of the few times I've seen him volunteer himself for such a crucial mission so quickly!" He barked out a few laughs, slapping Hugo's arm a few times good-naturedly before turning back to Repanse. "If nothing else, I owe Spoletta a chance to see if the rumors about him are true. Especially from all the things that I've heard from others and dear Ave here."
"And what has Spoletta promised this girl?" Henri Le Massif asked, not liking the change of this conversation. "What has this necromancer promised her to feed you whatever it is YOU all wanted to hear as he sows chaos through the land."
"Justice." Ave suddenly declared. "Justice for my fellow peasants…and justice for…me." Pulling down her hood, Henri gasped and nearly drew his sword, and even Repanse was taken aback. "Wasn't too long ago he made me undead. Made me undead after I was caught by Duke Bohemond's corrupt nobles who let some of their men have their way with me n'...n'..." She didn't need to breathe but ultimately did so before shaking her head. "He avenged my sanctity…my…everything. She avenged my village after half of it was razed to the ground. Lyle showed me what he is. I've heard the stories about you, Lady of Lyonese…but these days, I'm tired of stories. All of our people are!" Feeling her voice rise up she threw her hood back up, her vacant and dull eyes filled with a furious anger. "You have a week. One week to release Ham back to us. If you do so, the rest of the Brigands and I will know where you stand with your people. If ya don't?" She turned her back, not saying another word before storming off, and was not able to bring herself to say anything more.
As she left Bertrand sighed and spoke his final piece. "You heard her, Repanse. One week. Here at this spot. If you don't? Well…I'll have to entertain working with this Spoletta. I'd prefer not to since I loathe necromancers and spilling Brettish blood, but…I have my own duties and vows. A people to serve in my way." And just like that, Hugo followed afterward, leaving the two knights to stand and watch.
And just like that, the conflict and unease within the Warmaiden were only magnified, her throat constricting like a vice at the duties she had to do…and what she WANTED to do.
…
Three times, Yasmine had been brought to Grom the Paunch as he stubbornly clung to life despite his grievous injuries, all in the span of what felt a little over a week. Three times, she was told to monitor his condition and help him. Something that was trying given that she couldn't really use magic, but nonetheless did what she could considering she didn't want to endanger herself any more than she already had. This included gathering and using herbs and correcting the mushroom-collecting goblins and shamans from the misleading and rather foolish methods they used to mend their leaders. They weren't completely useless, but they weren't the best medical help she's had by far.
She thought that they would rebuff or give her no shortage of issues having to accept any help from a 'humie', but apparently, Grom's condition had become so dire that they weren't in any position to turn down good help, even from a race they looked down upon.
Plus, there was no hiding just how poor of a condition Grom was in. His stomach, which had already shrunk perceptively since surviving his stomach wound and loss of his troll flesh, was now looking further deflated as if someone had drained him. His skin was becoming loose and flabby, and his usual healthy green was now milky and sickly. It was a testament to how strong and stubborn he was in surviving until now.
Though she was hardly a specialist in Greenskin biology, Yasmine felt that he had maybe around less than another week to last before nature took its course. Though she mainly relied on magic to perform her nature-filled feats, she still was quite skilled in hands-on healing and mending to where she could notice certain signs. And even if she wasn't, anyone could see that everything was not going well with Grom. His condition was so appalling that he could barely whisper a few words out a day before he went in and out of consciousness. His wide and open maw stayed open, trying to take in gulps of air just to live another moment. It was telling since he needed those gulps to not just keel over on the spot.
One goblin who was younger than the others wrung his hands together, his body twitchy and jumpy as he stopped grinding some herbs with a makeshift mortar. He looked as though he wanted to say something to Yasmine but stopped himself, his eyes flickering over to some of his fellow 'healers' as they whispered to one another. Eventually, he returned to grinding those herbs, not daring to say another word.
That was something else that was impossible for Yasmine not to notice. If it was tense amongst her fellow slaves and the goblins that she had seen before, it was astronomically high now. She didn't miss how goblins were now openly segregating themselves into smaller and smaller groups where more of them were looking more like hives of scheming and skullduggery. Few of them were getting killed off as much as before, but the hostility and mistrust were at a level that reminded Yasmine of scheming nobles of Lyonese. A duchy that often had the most in terms of skullduggery, back-handed deals, and loose interpretation of the code of Chivalry.
It looked as though they were all waiting for something. Waiting for the first drop of hostility to be thrown out into the open, where the knives could come out. None of them seemed willing to do so, as long as Grom drew breath and Simmire kept control through everyone's favorite overworked night goblin.
But how much longer could that last? How much longer could this keep up?...and what could Yasmine do to avoid the worst of it? After all, it wasn't just herself she was worried about at this point it was her fellow slaves, even the bronze collars, who were trying to stay ahead of the pecking order. How many would be killed, rationed, or negatively caught up in what was going to be a clear power struggle? What would happen concerning the…rumors of hostile forces that were close to their war camp? Yasmine hadn't heard who exactly this 'hostile' force was since Simmire and those close to her were keeping it close to their chest, but whatever it was, the elf rattled. She'd been so rattled that she almost looked as though she was ready to grant Yasmine's request to have her collar off in exchange for healing Grom until she brushed her off, albeit uneasily.
Perhaps a few more days of this and the elf would be more willing to entertain the idea. If nothing else, she could leverage the desperation these Gilded Collars were feeling to remove her own. It would certainly give her the opportunity to maybe use the coming chaos to free these poor souls who found themselves under the boot of both the goblins and Simmire herself.
And finally, it seemed that her opportunity had come when a night goblin jabbed her shoulder and beckoned her over. "Da Gold colla' lady wants ta' speak wit' ya! Get a move on ya blondie git!" Though his words were rude and crass, there was no missing the nervousness and fear as he briefly glanced at the sorry state of Grom. A spiteful part of Yasmine felt like tarrying a bit longer just so he could gaze at the withering husk of his warboss but decided to take pity on the miserable creature, getting up and dusting off her haggard and ragged clothing.
"Well then. Lead the way then, master goblin." Yasmine smiled. "I'd hate to keep Simmire waiting."
Not missing the jab, the goblin curled up his lip but just stomped over to where the elf was standing along with a few other night goblins and shamans staring pointedly at her a little ways away. Following behind him, Yasmine noticed that one of the shamans was the same ilk that was often by her side, helping to try and assist Grom with his deteriorating condition, and like usual, he seemed surly as he was nervous, clearly not seeming optimistic about his chances to help their warboss.
When she reached Simmire, Yasmine only felt her smile widen at the terse expression of the elf. "And how can I help you, miss Simmire? Is there another remedy you would like me to experiment wit-
"Enough." The elf's reply was short as it was curt. "Me and the shamans have already decided what we'll be doing. Consider it a last resort concerning what awaits us if we fail to heal Grom."
"Oh?" Yasmine touched her lips with mock horror, not feeling at all sorry for the elf. "It's become that desperate, has it?"
Yasmine meant to gloat more, but the fear she saw in Yasmine's eyes made her pause. That pause allowed Simmire to speak words that allowed her to understand that fear. "Druchii slavers have overrun and taken over the Duchy of Aquitaine and the southern coast of Bretonnia."
It was as if the cold and unforgiving ocean depths had bathed Yasmine's body. At first she thought that this was some cruel jest only for her to remember that this was hardly the time or place for Simmire to do such a thing. Besides, it would easily explain the increase of intensity.
Parting her lips to ask a question, Simmire beat the damsel to the punch and continued speaking, clearly wanting to get this off her chest for a great deal of time. "There are rumors that the duke of Acquitaine himself has perished and that most of the coastal towns and settlements are either being occupied or pillaged and enslaved to the point where not even the animals have been left untouched."
Suddenly bombarded by information that was on the cusp of bringing her to her knees by their sheer weight alone, Yasmine could only mutter out one word: "Impossible."
"I would have thought so too had I not seen the druchii flags and armaments and dark riders rushing out into the open fields. When the wolf riders had declared this I refused to believe." The scowl on Simmire's face could melt glaciers. "When I saw it all myself I knew that our luck had taken a turn. What's worse is that some of the the wolf riders were caught and captured by the dark elves."
The implications kept hitting Yasmine like a cavalry charge. "You…you mean they-
"Most likely will know where we are by now, yes. To trust a goblin to hold it's tongue under torture is like hoping that my kind are incapable of turning our noses up any higher than they already are."
"I'd be Krumpin' insulted if wadn't so true." The goblin shaman huffed as he shook his head at this situation. "N' what's worse is dat if da rest of da boyz find out den' all hell will break loose. Zulz is respected, but not Grom levels of respected. Not enough ta' keep da' boyz from bringin' anarchy da moment dey realize dat' some knife ears are comin' at us."
Yasmine was afraid to ask. "Do…do we have numbers?"
"Thousands. Tens of thousands if the wolf riders are to be believed." Simmire stared hard at the ailing form of Grom as if trying to will him to get up in that. "I don't know if that many will come to deal with us once our locations is betrayed. Perhaps not if they're raiding and pillaging the southern coastline, but even a couple of thousand might be enough to bring a finishing blow to us." She then stared desperately at Yasmine. "All of us."
The damsel didn't miss the tone. If the goblins fell then she and all the slaves wouldn't be too far behind. And if there was anything that Yasmine knew about dark elves was that the way they treated slaves would make the goblins seem like paradise in comparison. Their economy was built off the backs of slave labor after all and they'd managed to figure out how to get the most out of those slaves down to a science. Which unfortunately came at the catastrophic cost of those slaves' lives. And that wasn't even mentioning the dark and unholy rituals that would utilize those enslaved lives for ill-intentions.
There was a reason why every peasant and even noble feared and prepared against coastal raids by dark elf corsairs. Being in Druchii chains was often considered to be a fate worse than death and Yasmine had no intentions of finding out just how true that was.
But even through this tragedy and this horror that was now plaguing the coast and possibly their immediate vicinity there was still an opportunity for Yasmine. "If you want my help you know what you need to do." She pointed at my collar. "I'm not much use to you or any of us with this around my neck."
The hesitation was back in Simmire's eyes, but there was resignation there as well. Whatever carefully constructed plans that she had planned for the damsel were coming undone by the insertion of a third party into where they were. "Only…" She began having to grind the words out. "Only if you heal Grom. Without him we have no chance of surviving."
Yasmine hid her bafflement. "You're that desperate to revive the one that holds your chains?"
"If he dies then we have no chance at surviving. Those wolf riders that survived the skirmish I mentioned talked about how much cavalry and the amount of raiding parties that they have. If this horde dissipates our fates are sealed. I've yet to hear any reports of nearby Brettish forces and even if they could, I don't see them thwarting my wayward and sadistic-cousins in time." She then glowered at Yasmine. "Unless you think your power alone is enough to trump them."
Well when the ring-leader of these slaves put it like that, the situation seemed to live and die by Grom. Ironic that they both the slaves and the goblins were so dependent on one another. "Is there truly no one else…like this Zulz you spoke of that can lead the reigns."
The goblin shaman impatiently stamped his foot. "If de're was, we wouldn't be havin' this talk ya blond git! Now can ya help out da boss or not!?"
She could certainly try. Regardless of how she felt about the Goblin Warboss she didn't want to condemn the rest of these poor slaves who had been forced into it. Even the ones using the situation to their advantage. There was only one major problem.
The collar had been around her neck for such a long time that even if it was removed not all of her magic would return to her all at once. It would need to trickle in so that she could get used to it. Like working a muscle after letting it atrophy for a while. Rushing herself back into magic form without any time to get used to her newfound freedom could lead to dangerous…results.
But ultimately this lot didn't need to know that. Not when she was sure she could help Grom in SOME fashion. So even though it galled her to agree to help the goblins, she nodded, knowing she had everything to gain. "Remove the collar, and I'll do what I can for him. Since his fate is tied with the slaves, I'd hate to see others perish for my stubbornness."
Again, Simmire hesitated, but ultimately, she had no choice but to take the Damsel's word since all other avenues for solutions had failed. With a jerk of her head, she gestured for the goblin Shaman to deal with the issue. After the shaman took out a spindly-looking staff and started making a few frantic chants, the deal was struck.
Since these types of magic dampeners were forged with the use of magic material, that magic should have been one of the few ways to remove it. This was why it was so effective, to begin with since the collared magic user could no longer use their magic. But, once another magic user got involved…
…then it was removed as easily as it was put on, actually surprising Yasmine with how quickly it was done. Just like that, she could feel the winds of magic again. The lore of life flowing through the winds that rippled through her body and the very earth beneath her feet. It wasn't perfect. She wasn't as in tune with the magic she was trained to use by the Lady, but it was clear that would change with time.
The shaman backed away, making sure to call to the winds of magic to him, just in case she got any ideas. He needn't have bothered; she went back to the sorry form of Grom and decided to quite literally work her magic since it was the least she could do given the circumstances. "Do be warned, Simmire, I may not be able to heal him back to full strength. But I can at least ensure he survives."
"Whatever it is you can do, just do it!" Simmire nearly shouted, catching even the other goblins by surprise. "Time is precious, and I don't need needless explanations. If you can get him to live and talk, I'll kiss your damned feet! Now, just get to it!"
There was no feigning that level of urgency. Not with Simmire, who was usually calm, clinical, and cold when it came to managing her fellow slaves. Understanding fully about the danger they were in now, Yasmine got to work and utilized what little magic that she could to try and reverse Grom's condition, placing both of her hands on his sagging stomach as the goblin stared aimlessly ahead.
However, just as her earth magic began to work its way through the innards of his body and mend much of the damage that had been caused by his previous, Yasmine noticed a problem. A problem that she wished she had noticed sooner. Her magic could heal and mend, yes, but it couldn't just completely replace what was lost. And it was only now that she realized just how crucial Grom's troll flesh was to his body.
She debated lying to the others about this discovery but knew that wouldn't do any of the other slaves any favors. So, with resignation, she bit her lip, slowly turned around, and told the truth.
"I can't fix him."
The goblins and Simmire looked at her as though she was constructing an elaborate joke, and before any of them could voice protests or ask questions, she pressed on. "You mentioned that Grom lost troll flesh in his stomach, did he not? How long has he had that troll flesh inside of him?"
The shaman was one to supply the answer. "Y-years. I-it's why he turned so massive to begin with! It's how he earned the title of 'Your immensity!' Without it, he-
"Without it, he's going to die." Yasmine sighed, shaking her head. "The troll flesh had not only given him his size, but when I was running my magic through him, I noticed how his body had been grown to accommodate the flesh, depending on it as much as one would a stomach, a lung, or a heart. It gave him great power, yes, but it became a part of him as a result. Without it…" She bit her lip, trying to find the words. "His body, especially at his size, can't accommodate itself without the sustenance and healing factor that troll flesh gave him. I think it was part magic as well because I couldn't help but notice traces of magic within his digestive tract and muscles…and I take it from your expressions and the fact that you're relying on me that you haven't found a substitute?"
Simimire's looked ready to tear her hair out. "We…we have yet to find any other trolls to substitute as flesh, no."
"...so then dat's it then?" One goblin muttered. "Da…da boss is gonna die?"
Frightened muttering bled through the goblins that were present. It seemed that Simmire's fears about the tribe being undone without strong leadership were well founded if the shifty and twitchy looks the little Greenskins were giving were any indication.
"W-we screwed?" Another goblin asked another. "D-da knife ears are gonna krump us?"
"Dead! All dead!"
"It's ova'! Game ova' gits, game ova'!"
And just like that, the panic spread like a fast-acting cancer, working to destabilize the goblins even before Grom's body fully succumbed to his wounds. If this got out to the rest of the tribe, there was no question about whether the tribe would dissolve, but when. And if this were any other situation, Yasmine would applaud that, but now?…with dark elves so close?
Simmire grabbed Yasmine's shoulders, her teeth clicked shut and her eyes wide with horror. "Yasmine! I…I know that I've done little to improve your estimation of me but I beg of you! Can you not heal him? I-I mean heal him enough to so he can get into battl-
"I-I'm sorry but that's outside of my powers! I can't replace what is gone! Without the troll flesh and it's magical properties he won't last, much less walk into bat-
"Wait! S-so you mean…there's a chance!" The woman suddenly declared, gripping onto Yasmine's shoulders tightly like a lifeline. "All this time we've been looking for trolls to get troll flesh! S-surely there's something we can do to get him to swallow down as a substitute!" She then turns to the shaman who flinches at Simmire's wild look. "RIGHT!?"
"I-I fink' so! I-I unno!"
Pursing her lips, Yasmine thought for a moment before she turned back to Grom, her brow furrowed in deep thought. "I…It is possible but it won't be that easy. If you actually want to find a substitute for the troll flesh that Grom had for all this time, you'll need something that is alive and has regenerative healing properties. It needs to also have magical properties like I believe his former troll flesh was so that it has a factor within it to help replace what was lost." The damsel's eyes darted between the two. "Is there anything that you two have that can fill that role?"
The shaman shook his head, grabbing both sides of it in a bout of frustration. "Ermmm. Might have had it earlier in da battle in dat fancy castle, but Oi got no hope of gettin' it now!" The goblin wailed as it gripped it's staff so tightly it looked as though it was going to snap. "I-it was dis big glowin' shroom! I-It got run ova' by some horse ridin' humies n' beasties! Oi'd spent moons growin' da fing and now it's bits! Just like we're gonna be!"
So then there was nothing. Nothing to use as a substitute. Nothing to salvage the situation. For a moment, Yasmine debated simply making a run for it with as many slaves as she could even with the limited amount of magic at her disposal only for her. She didn't like her chances but even still, maybe…
Then Simmire spoke again, her voice back to its calm and collected tone. "Something…magical?" She asked tentatively. "Something alive and with healing qualities, yes?"
"...yes?" Yasmine responded slowly. "Have you thought of something to use? It needs to be in his stomach in order to work however."
Yasmine became slightly suspicious when Simmire stared at her for a beat before kneeling down to whisper to the goblin shaman's ear. The goblin then looked at Simmire as if she'd suddenly grew two more pairs of pointed ears. He spoke back to the elf only for Simmire's words to become sterner. What was even more surprising was that the shaman seemed to seriously consider her words, looking back at Yasmine for a moment before nodding and walking off toward a small group of goblins who were decidedly less panicky than the rest of their ilk at that moment.
Yasmine was suspicious but also hopeful. "You have something that can be fed to Grom?"
"Of a sort." Simmire replied curtly before folding her arms. "Truth be told, I'm not even sure if it will work. You DID say it needs to be alive, right?"
"If it's not alive, then it will only work for so long before he's back at square one."
The elf thinned her lips. "It will have to do." She then nodded to the shaman behind Yasmine. "Stun. Do it."
Suddenly, Yasmine found herself getting swarmed. Multiple little green hands grasped the blonde, surprising her as she tried to and failed to shake them off, shocked by the sudden swarm. She tried using her magic, and while a few roots erupted from the ground, whipping and snaring some of the goblins, it was all for naught. She still needed a great deal more time before more magic was available to use in any meaningful manner and before she knew she was being dragged toward Grom.
"Wh-what in the Lady's name are you doing!? What is all this about? I've been helping you-I-
"Yes, you have. And for that, I'm grateful, Yasmine." Simmire said calmly as she walked toward Grom as well, staring at a few goblins who climbed atop the diminished form of the Warboss, trying to pry the already open jaw of the goblin even further. It wasn't hard to do when he wasn't in any position to offer resistance. "And you'll continue to help us in a way that, I have to admit, none of us expected. I'm genuinely sorry that it came to this, but desperate times require equally desperate measures. I've no intention of serving my dark-elf cousins. I know better than anyone what would await me."
"Then what the blazes are you doing? What is all this what are yo-" Yasmine found herself short of breath as she was carried toward Grom. More and more goblins worked together to drag her up the sagging body of Grom…right toward his maw.
It hit Yasmine like a cannonball. Suddenly, her struggles became more frantic. She fought, screamed, and scratched and even managed to bite one of the goblin's ears, making it cry out.
But in the end, she was grossly outnumbered, and just before she could see Grom's teeth over her head, she glared spitefully at Simmire, who just regarded her coldly. "Simmire, you wretched bitch! A thousand curses on you! May the Lady damn you for the rest of your long-lived and horr-
And then, like a battering ram, the goblins heaved and then pushed her forward right into the maw of Grom, which easily engulfed her head and shoulders, given its size. The sudden shock of the motion managed to startle Grom awake from the stupor he was in, making him blink and helplessly thrash about, not having the strength to stop whatever was happening. But regardless of how much Grom and Yasmine struggled, the goblins had been given their task, and they were going to do whatever it took to get their Warboss back to his old form. Even if it was through a method, he wasn't particularly enjoying.
And so they pushed and pushed, and the struggles from Yasmine became more futile as more of her body went down Grom's gullet. The damsel shuddered and gagged as her world became dominated by a warm, wet, and soggy tunnel that made her want to vomit. Mercifully, depending on how you looked at it, thanks to the size of Grom, even with his condition, it didn't take long for her feet to disappear within the maw of the Paunch as Grom was forced to swallow the woman lest he choke on her.
Eventually, Yasmine fell into the belly of the beast, her ragged clothes soaked in the juices of Grom's belly, and the dark cavern was expensive due to his girth. She shuddered and looked in fear as she found herself drenched in the juices, wondering if her magic would indeed be able to keep her alive, only to gasp as a change took place. Grom's stomach juices began to glow green the longer she sat in it, and the groaning and churning noises that reverberated in her ears began to pick up as his stomach flesh began to take on that same green color.
On the outside, Grom sputtered and coughed, his head shaking as he shoved all of his underling goblins off of him. "Wot da bloody 'ell did ya gits shove down me throat!? Ye damn near choked me to death n' didn't give me any warning!" The goblin Warboss clambered to his feet, his face and jowls suddenly becoming the more healthy shade of green they were before hand. "And wot' are ya all smilin' like-
"Boss! You're standin'!" Another goblin shouted with cheer, hopping up and down. "And you're speakin'!
"Course' I'm doin' all o' dat' ya gits!" The Goblin Warboss barked out in irritation, standing on his feet with an affronted face. "Why wouldn't I-Urk!" Grom then shook his head, feeling a sudden bout of dizziness that washed over his head. Shouts and screams of concern broke out again from the goblins as they thought their boss would keel over. Yet Grom stood firm, suddenly remembering just how poor his condition had been getting up until now. It was only after he shook his head and cleared the cobwebs that had festered that he finally appreciated just how quickly he was suddenly recovering.
It was also then that he suddenly realized how his stomach was starting to fill out again. Granted, it wasn't entirely back to its sizable form, which disappointed the fat goblin, but he would take being alive to the alternative. He also just remembered what had been forced down his throat as he saw movement in his paunch that made his eyes bulge.
He glared at the goblins. "Wot in Gork n' Mork's name did ya shove inside me!? A mini troll or somethin'?"
"The damsel actually." Simmire corrected, moving forward and getting the goblin's attention. "We needed something to replace the troll flesh you lost and we used the damsel that Zulz was skillfull enough to capture for us. She had many of the prerequisites we believed to help your condition. The fact that you're up and about is only proof of that."
"An' ya didn't fink to ask me first!?" Grom asked with annoyance, smacking his gut and jostling the occupant inside. "Ya didn't fink to gut n' kill her first before feedin' her to me?"
"We needed her alive. Otherwise the magic that she had could have worn off. And that was crucial to saving your life." Simmire declared, showing no fear to her owner's rancor. "If there were other alternatives we would have taken them."
"Well isn't dat all just fine n' dandy! Now we got some magicky humie git in my gut dat could be doin' Mork knows wot' n' Oi just gotta live wit' it!?"
"...As I said your Immensity. If there were alternatives we would have taken them. Especially given the dark elves may be coming here as we speak to finish off your tribe."
"Mmm…fink' I rememba' you lot yammerin' about dat when I was fadin' in n' out." He then shrugged, rolling his shoulders out and trying to wring out the atrophy that had come with being bed-ridden for weeks now. "So Oi just gotta Krump some knife ears den'? Business as usual! Nofin' to sweat if ya ask me! Side's! I could use some more meat in me gut. This humie ya shoved into me ain't nearly enough! N' Oi got some unfinished business wit dem' beastie humies for foilin' me schemes n' plans!" His beady red eyes no longer cloudy in pain and agony were suddenly focused, leering out at the goblins that were arrayed before him actually looking relieved to hear their boss speak brass tacks with a plan of action. They were all stricken out of their awe when Grom rumbled some orders from his might chest. "Well wo't are ya gits standin' around for!? If dere's gonna be a fight den' were gonna be ready for a flight! Where's Zulz!"
Stun, the Shaman stood ramrod and replied. "H-he's wif da otha' night goblins Your Immensity! He's tryin' ta make sure dere's no otha' gits tryin' ta take your title while your out-
"You tell em' dat I'll be da one worryin' about any mutininous gits! Tell em' to get da boyz ready for a scrap! Dat goes for da rest o' you lot! Git movin' or you can go into da pot so Oi can at least get some use outta ya! MOVE!"
Despite being barked at with the pleasantness of a slave-driver the goblins seemed rejuvenated and all too happy to do their boss's bidding now seeing a light at the end of the sorry situation they found themselves in. The couple of dozen or so goblins that had been tending to his health and premises were now moving about in a whipped up frenzy, looking to see to his orders the best and quickest way they could. Just the way he liked it.
"And someone get me, Elf Biter! I ain't killin' a buncha knife ears without da proppa' tools!" He then turned to Simmire, his eyes glowering. "Tch. Speakin' of knife ears. Can't believe Oi've got you ta' thank for me bein' conscious right now. It's enough to make me sick n' bedridden again for Krump's sake!" He then lowered his jowled gaze down to hers. "But don't fink I forgot about all da schemin' dat you were doin' dat would make a Hobgoblin' proud."
Folding her arms and not back down, knowing that it wouldn't do her good, Simmire's gaze did not lessen. "I did what was needed to keep YOUR tribe together. Master. I'm sure that even considering your previous state you remember all the goblins trying to usurp your position while you drew breath."
"I remember some o' dat. Also, remember how you promoted some silva' collars when Oi could barely speak!"
"All to make sure that the slaves under you were placated. If there are no promotions, there's no placation. No placation, and some of them get rather…pretentious with their positions. I even had to promote a human of all things to the silver collars to ensure that everything ran as smoothly as it could within your tribe." Simmire's brow lowered along with her voice. "A great deal of stress and expectations were placed upon my fellow slaves to pick up the slack from the recent battle. Compensation had to be achieved to maintain balance."
Grom wanted to wring the knife ear's neck, but he knew it wouldn't do him any good. By the second, he was starting feel better and better, but he wasn't at full strength yet. And that was nothing short compared to the state of his tribe. The Broken Ax tribe had sustained horrific losses from not just the battle of Bastonne but also the march toward it. Along with the attrition of goblins abandoning them before and after the fight Grom knew he only had a couple thousand Greenskins left to fight. That was unacceptable.
And sadly, he was going to need to rely on Simmire more than ever to ensure that he could sustain his tribe but also accommodate the numbers he'd need to bring in to grow it back to it's former glory. It galled him, but it was better than being done. He didn't know whether to curse or praise his former self for having her run all the slaves and logistics within his tribe all that time ago back on Ulthuan.
Ultimately, if the wolf rida scouts were to be believed, this wasn't the time or place to deal with this elf's growing influence. He could deal with that later. Heck. Maybe Krumping and eating some knife ears could cool some tempers. "Feh. Just stay outta my way n' don't try anythin' funny, Simmire. Oi ain't in da mood for your elfy games."
"No games. Master. None at all."
"Tch. Whateva'. Just make sure da rest of da slaves are in line for when me in da boyz start stompin' some knife ears." And just like that, Grom began to grin, already salivating over the slaughter and food that he could use to start regaining his peak form. Sure, things looked bad, but it wasn't anything a good scrap and feast couldn't fix. "Dem' dark elves are in for a nasty surprise for when we gut im'. All for Da Lady!"
"What?"
"Wot?"
Simmire blinked for what felt like half a dozen times when she heard what had been said. Grom himself grabbed his jowelled chin as if trying to check if those words left his mouth. For a moment, Simmire was about to say something but thought better of it, settling on confusion rather than clarification since Grom himself looked utterly baffled.
He looked as though he was going to say something else when a loud, gurgling groan started emanating from his stomach. So much so that Grom winced as muffled noises started joining them with what was clearly Yasmine shoving and pushing against his gut from the inside. She was apparently pushing against him so hard that it caused the Paunch to grimace and hold his side while growling in frustration.
"Oi! Humie! Shaddup n' settle down in de're! Oi don't like this any more than you, but If you don't quit movin' around-" Grom grunted again, pounding his stomach to try and get her to stop moving, only for the gaseous noise to pick up in volume. Suddenly, Grom felt a rush to his throat and then his cheeks that comically caused his eyes to bulge from the sheer amount of gas that was starting to rise from within.
Looking away from Grom, the elf coughed and gagged when she heard and smelt the hefty burp that erupted from Grom's mouth, only for the low-born elf to widen in shock as green gas left Grom's maw. The gas was so dense that instead of rising and dissipating in settled on top of the grassy ground. For a moment, nothing happened, but once the gas did dissipate, both the goblin warlord and the elf slave-driver stared wide-eyed as the grass grew instantaneously to larger forms, with flowers and weeds propping up in an instant, just like magic.
It was only then that they both noticed the veins in Grom's body glowing a vibrant green which was so bright that they stood out from Grom's own green-skinned body.
Grom could only stare at himself in utter bafflement and no small amount of annoyance only to growl out again when Yasmine pushed against his stomach again, her feet now easily seen through the outline of his stomach, showing she was kicking against him. "GRAAAH! You couldn't get any otha' replacement for me besiode's troll flesh!? For Krump's sake!" He was now wailing on his stomach, smacking and smashing his fists against his thrashing gut to get the damsel to settle down. "For da Lady's sake quit your-" Realizing what he just said, Grom then let out a sudden roar of frustration, stomping his foot and now grasping his stomach to try and stop the madness that had suddenly struck him physically and mentally.
All the while, Simmire could only stare in utter bafflement at what was occuring before her, realizing that the magic of the damsel may have had further complications to the Warboss than even she thought.
…
A/N:
First and foremost I want to give a heartfelt apology for having to wait so long for this chapter and for the fact that it doesn't include the King Louen interaction that I promised was going to be here. That scene grew so long that I'm just going to put it into the next chapter since these scenes took much longer than I thought.
Secondly, I sincerely hope that the many Grom fans of my story are now happy to see his Immensity returning to some of his old form…with a few changes of course. I bet dollars to doughnuts that none of you saw that coming as well as the chaos that's going to follow as a result.
I'll try not to take nearly as long as I did for this chapter for the next one. A lot of real life stuff got in the way and I've started taking voice acting classes so that's been a thing too. Other than that, please give me your thoughts on the chapter below as well as what you think will happen with Repanse and Grom going forward. I'm very interested to hear your thoughts on these matters or anything else you wanna bring up.