Medwin fell to his knees, sobbing in a mixture of relief, on-rushing exhaustion, pain, and loss. The sun had finally rose, exposing the horrors of the night before. Could they dare call the soot and ash that covered their armor and caked the third company in the remnants of last night's battle a victory?
The third was broken; no one could lie otherwise, not to Medwin's eyes. Here before him, more Footmen lay dead than those who could be counted among the living. And among the living, it would certainly take the Light's power week to restore their spirits. Their supplies were gone, their camp, the aids and civilians helping them, and their wounded were all reduced to nothing more than several pounds more of ash, taken up and mixed in with Brill's own remains. He didn't know how many of their leadership survived, and worse, he didn't know if they had been successful in killing any of the Horde's own leaders, not beyond the few vampires he had witnessed die last night.
They had, for a moment, broken the Undead pushing forward enough that flaming arrows could be fired into Brill. Of course that was not nearly enough to set the conflagration that by morning now had turned the township into little more than cinder. No, the moment gaps opened in the undead lines, brave, perhaps to the point of insanity, men and women of the third had taken hold of the large jars of oil and rushed to Brill and its walls, slamming the jars into burning flames or onto walls the company needed to burn down. Medwin did not know of a single one of these brave souls to have returned alive.
Yet as fire began to purge Brill, cleansing the town of the Undeath that had plagued it for only a few years less than those for which Medwin had been alive, screams and flames rose from the Third's camp. Medwin had been among those foolish enough to turn and rush to the camp. There was a small force; no more than fifty of the Horde's own warriors rampaged, attacking wounded Footmen and those tending to their injuries. Footmen who had hours or minutes before been looking to join their ancestors in death were fighting bloodthirsty foes who made no distinction between their victims.
Medwin, some spare footmen of the Third, and a handful of Paladins held the Horde but at great difficulty and cost, and only for a short time. It was almost immediately after the Horde's blades met those of the Alliance's defenders that to their backs darkness darker than the night descended on the Footmen of the right flank, causing cries of alarm, terror, and pain and death to rise almost as a summons to the newest fight. To fight against the Vampires and their foul darkness.
It was with reluctance and heavy hearts that the Paladins apologized and then left, the main line and their survival more important than the wounded and defenseless in the camp. sobbing at the memory Medwin of, while not able to blame them for their choice, also could not shake his wrath towards the new dead Paladins and their abandonment of the fight. Leaving far too few and far too wounded men to hold back the Horde.
While Medwin fought with all his might only for seven of the non-combatants to survive, and of both the wounded and those footmen who had raced back to meet the enemy in their camp, only five managed to escape back into the line, a reduced but still significant force of Horde infiltrators and warriors behind them. But that had only been the beginning.
Medwin rocked himself while glancing over to a still-burning fire that might have been a doorway once before. As the undead before them broke, Vampires struck their flank, and with Horde behind them, the third company's best option was to press into Brill. While the Light's champions and the darkness-enshrouded Vampires battled on the right flank, the third Company rushed into Brill, hoping that the chaos of the flames would distract their foes while the company pressed for victory.
However, that had been a false hope. The Vampires had no desire to meet the Paladins head-on, instead breaking away and leaving the Paladins to fight the Horde's flanking force and a small horde of lesser undead. But even without the Vampires rampaging through the town, a rearguard of the Horde had chosen to make the town a killing ground even as it burned down around them. Medwin had wrestled a Blood Elf archer to the ground on the second floor of a house that had been both filled with explosive traps, even as flames threatened to cause the building to collapse.
As the chaos of the flames spread throughout Brill, the defenders weakened, streets that were fortified burned into open thoroughfares, and traps that the Horde had prepared were destroyed without the Alliance Footmen having ever encountered them. But this also gave strength to the Vampires. The Third Company were forced into narrow streets, scattered by fire, blinded by the bright flames and the stark difference brought about in the night as the smoke hid away the moon and stars and cloaked the unbreathing Vampires in a vail of further obscurity.
The only safety Medwin had was with his weapon locked with the Horde, but yet as the town collapsed around them, the Horde further disappeared, yet no one could find their route of escape. It wasn't until the very end when they could find it, as the last dozen or so Horde warriors turned and fled into the last standing building, and they did so with dozens of Footmen behind them, Medwin among that number. There was a tunnel waiting for the Horde's warriors, but they would not escape, not with the Alliance on their heels.
Medwin balled a fist, slamming it into the accursed ground beneath himself before groaning and beginning to tear at the last scraps of armor that had once adorned him. The tunnel had been a trap, a heartless and ruthless trap, and those last defenders of Brill had been the bait. Medwin didn't know what had allowed him to spot it, what had gifted him with senses so much sharper than the others, but he had seen ahead past the cramped forward rushing soldiers to a small light further down the tunnel. There was a small ratman with horns on his head, and a Forsaken stood side by side, watching before the rat raised his staff, and with an odd flash of green energy, the tunnel shook. Medwin had turned and fled immediately, knowing what was being done, but even that headstart had not been enough.
Medwin was nearly crushed to death, and in the dark, under the weight of unknown tons of dirt and stone, Medwin began to suffocate, slowly drawing closer to death with each second. It had been a mixture of dogged determination and the blessed hands of Patrick the Pure dragging Medwin out from under the dirt that had saved Medwin from a slow and agonizing death. Not that that could have been any comfort to the nearly thirty other Footmen left to suffer a similar or worse death than Medwin had faced.
While Brill burned, the Vampires fled the battle; likely many had taken to tunnels like the one Medwin had used, but others had simply changed, becoming wolves, bats, or even mist and simply escaping the weakened Alliance without issue. That left the Alliance with the empty crumbling husk of the burning Brill and to face the mounting bodies of their comrades and friends. That left Medwin to dwell on Brook's death and the reality of just how many more people were about to die, and to question if it would even be worth it.
Panic filled Medwin, everyone he knew was dead—his commanders, his friends, everyone. Nothing was right; this wasn't how this was supposed to be; nightmares like this were supposed to be in the twisting nether, or Northrend, at the heart of the Scourge. Not here in the Eastern Kingdoms, not to him, not to good people. Medwin pulled his hands from his face, his fingernails now soaked in his blood... Had he... Had he been clawing at his face? Was it possible to wash the ash and death away? How many of his own comrades had he been forced to kill last night after they had been raised as unloving monsters?
Powerful armored hands reached from behind Medwin and grasped his hands, stopping them and, with a golden glow, soothing the pain and stalling the panic. Next, the hands grabbed Medwin's shoulders and lifted the soldier to his feet before spinning him around to face the golden eyes of the Paladin, Patrick the Pure.
Those Golden eyes pierced deep into Medwin, cutting past the soldier's panic and soothing his troubled soul. "You're alright. Everything is going to be alright. Rest now."
"But what about making camp, keeping wat-" Medwin tried to protect an uncontrollable yawn, cutting the footman off midsentence.
"I'm here; that's what I'm for." The Paladin countered, letting go and allowing Medwin to collapse, exhaustion claiming the man and putting him to sleep, much like all the other traumatized soldiers Patrick had already visited who lay in the ashes around him.
Anduin mounted his horse Reverence, at his side, King Genn Greymane and General Hammond Clay both sat ready, hundreds of Alliance Footmen and Lion's Guard in marching formation behind them, ready to set off. It was a risk, but Anduin needed to be among the first to reach the front to relieve the brave soldiers Hammond had sent ahead to prepare the way for the Alliance.
Volkmar had already gone ahead to observe the third company as they fought the Horde. Anduin would like to hear the Imperial's opinion on the Third Company. Also, Anduin needed to get away from the beaches of the North Coast. The disembarking of the Alliance Army was hitting constant delays and difficulties. The sheer amount of war material and soldiers Anduin had brought was beyond what Shaw, Hammond and Greymane had hoped the shoreline would be able to support with plenty of land that was too soft for the heavy equipment they were offloading, and the ships were taking up too much space despite even Grand Admiral Jes-Tereth's coordination.
It would still take perhaps days more for the Alliance to unload the army onto land, and some estimates even suggested weeks for the full Alliance military might to be brought onto Tirisfal Glades. Hammond planned for troops to be sent ahead, to secure Brill, to begin the siege works, and to block off each of the Horde's remaining fortifications. However, Anduin had interjected. "If it was our failure to plan, then we should bear the burden where we can." The King argued, so now here he was. Raising Shalamayne Anduin signaled for his guard to march. Once they reached the third, Anduin would have to ask Volkmar his opinion; perhaps there would be some extra precautions he might take that he wasn't seeing that the jaded man's vision could observe.
"Move!" The General shouted, following after Anduin, while horns blared and the sounds of several hundred armored feet and hooves followed after Anduin and Reverence.
Some time into the march, as the sea wind swept hills gave way to dying and dead lands, what once upon a time had been verdant green lands, swamps, and forest groves had spent so much of Anduin's life instead as a dreary, dark, and desecrated land. Even the attempts to restore this land and grow new life all paled in comparison to the yearly crops of Stormwind. And then, as if summoned by Anduin's dark thoughts upon the road, four riders appeared, their horses covered in sweat, panting, and yet still running at a full gallop. The riders looked worse than their horses, many wounded with dried blood soaked into bandages and whatever cloth they wore, their complexions pale, the healthiest of their number being the baldheaded Volkmar, who sat in the center of their formation, though Anduin almost missed the man's presence until the group was almost atop him and the Lion's Guard.
"Volkmar!" Genn shouted in surprise, moving himself and Hammond from where they had placed themselves and the oncoming riders. "What is all this?"
Swiftly Volkmar pulled back on the reigns of his steed, allowing the creature to walk slowly as it breathed heavily in exhaustion, slowly circling Anduin and the others, allowing the horse to wind down. "The Third Company lines have collapsed. By the smoke in the sunrise, they may have succeeded in burning down the enemy's town of Brill; however, the Horde holds the roads, patrols of soldiers, and packs of undead hounds have harassed us all along our journey."
As Volkmar spoke, Hammond silently gestured to the Royal Guard and Lion's Guard, who began reshaping their formation to better protect Anduin. However, Anduin showed no sign of interest in this change, instead channeling the Light to heal Volkmar, his knights, and their mounts. "What about the Paladins and priests who joined the Third Company?"
Volkmar shook his head. "They would be lost with the Third Company, the Horde out maneuvered them. Their only hope is if they circled their lines, or could push into the town and secure the streets behind themselves."
Anduin then looked over to his general, and his mentor. "General Hammond, Genn, increase our pace, further break down our units, and send scouts ahead."
Hammond spurred his horse to sit in front of Anduin. "Your majesty, if we do this, we will be vulnerable. We already will face difficulty without the full army supporting us if we encounter stiff resistance. If we break down the troops, they'll be vulnerable for mass assault."
Genn then spoke up. "However, if we're too slow, we'll lose whatever is left of the Third Company, and we will find ourselves surrounded."
Anduin nodded before looking to Volkmar. "What do you think the Horde will do?"
The Grand Theogonist paused. "The Horde are scattered. They're trying to reclaim lost land against Beastmen, Goblins and others; if they were like this, I would strike for their heart."
Anduin nodded. "Hammond continue with my order. Tell the men to prepare for battle, we are fighting our way to the Third Company."
"Your majesty, please..." Hammond started but Anduin cut him off.
"The Horde used everything to hold Brill, I have faith that the Third Company now holds the town. The Horde is trying to cut them off and stall our forces." Anduin announced his voice, carrying across the assembled troops. "Let's not leave the Third waiting any longer."
A small cheer erupted from the troops as slowly the Royal and Lion's Guard began breaking down their formations, breaking into blocks and squads, and beginning to spread out. The first squads and formations pushed forward while others began to spread along the flanks, the entire column now fanning out and pushing ahead as a wave.
As Anduin, Hammond, Genn, and Volkmar slowly rode behind the advancing lines of the Royal Guard, reports began coming in. Clashes and encounters between the Royal Guard and the Horde increased as they closed distance with Brill. The undead wolves were vicious creatures without fear, throwing themselves into the Alliance forces whenever they encountered them, only breaking away in a coordinated manner and rather willing to stay and die unless whatever invisible and inaudible signal called them away.
The Horde forces fought with their usual tenacity, sacrificing to stall or kill the Royal Guard but pulling away to avoid any unnecessary risks they could perceive. Each formation of the Royal Guard was its own thrust into the contested lands between North Shore and Brill; together, all these units pushed the line towards Brill, collapsing the Horde's positions as they went.
Despite their courage and determination, the Horde didn't have nearly enough to challenge the Royal Guard; in less than half the day, they crumbled, turning into a controlled route, fleeing from the advancing Alliance force.
"Your Majesty Brill is ahead!" One of the lead guards reported as the sun started hanging low on the sky, prompting Anduin to race forward. While it still took quite some time, eventually Anduin and his entourage reached the crest of a burnt-out hill and looked down into the ruins of Brill.
Brill was now nothing more than burnt building frames and ashes. Spread across the town, the bodies of several Horde warriors lay about, while in the center of the town's remains, a single glowing Paladin stood resolute, his armor damaged and covered in blood. All around him, dead Horde warriors and the wounded of the Third Company lay on the ground.
Anduin rode ahead, approaching Patrick the Pure, who smiled at his approach. "Ah, there you are." The Paladin said, his voice full of exhaustion. "They need help." And then the Paladin staggered before collapsing to the ground. All around him, each of the Third Company survivors lay sleeping, the fading gold aura of divine protection showing that Patrick had protected each and every one from dozens of fresh Horde Corpses left laying about.
Anduin smiled at the Paladin as he snored on the ground, his body covered in wounds and bruises. "You did the Light's will." Anduin congratulated the Paladin as Volkmar and the others finally joined him.
"What now, your majesty? Should we try to press the opening to Lordaeron?" Hammond asked while dismounting his horse.
Anduin looked to the unconscious Paladin and the array of similarly unconscious Footmen. While he certainly felt the heat of battle, a call to press the offensive and to already begin the earliest stages of sieging Lordaeron to finally put an end to Sylvanas aggressive expansion of the Horde, the King's better nature won out. "No, we begin fortifying. I want the roads to Brill secured and watch stations established to protect our supplies as we move them up from the shore."
Anduin then considered the map of Tirisfal from his memory as best he could. "We also need to establish an early watch on the Scarlet Monastery. The Horde are certain to use it to launch a counterattack, and I'd rather we trap as many of their forces as we can. Genn, can you get me a report on our flanking warfronts?"
They will see Lordaeron besieged and conquered, but now was not yet the time. Rogers skyfleet had to circle away from the enemy out of fear of retaliation, and on the ground not nearly enough men had gathered. It would take days before the Alliance was ready to press the walls of Lordaeron, and Anduin wanted the siege towers and cannons in place before he would dare try.
"Move-move, out of my way!" Thanquol pushed and shoved his way past the ragged array of Horde members blocking his path out of the tunnel and I to the Courtyard of the Scarlet Monastery. While the open sky's above were always unnerving to a Skaven, it was preferable to being in a tunnel made by someone obviously trying to sabotage him. While it had been his brilliant intent to collapse the tunnel onto those foolish man-things following him, the further collapses of the tunnel had clearly been sabotage. Someone was now out to get him.
At first Thanquol suspected the Headman or that stupid Gnome-thing, however, both needed him and were clearly inferior beings happy to praise him in hopes of he, the great Thanquol, gracing them with a moment of his attention. However, Executor Zygand and the vampires knew of the tunnel, and both clearly hated him out of their jealousy of his sheer magnificence. Zygand could have easily sabotaged the tunnel or made one of his servants do so, while the Vampires had plenty of strange abilities and Thanquol's attention was too precious to be wasted watching their every move.
Indeed, it was the fault of Thanquol's incompetent servants. They were too busy scrambling for Thanquol's favor rather than keeping his enemy's schemes at bay. Still, Thanquol needed to be aware of the obvious scheme to assassinate him clearly brewing among the Horde; he needed to prepare his own counter-schemes, but without any competent Skaven beneath him, that limited his options.
The horned ratman gave a sidelong glance to his now constant companion lingering in the shadow of Boneripper. The headman's adventurers would have to do, along with his own magic, which was clearly the source of everyone's envy; after all, only he was the chosen of the Horned Ratman, destined to possess the greatest magic in all worlds.
"Where is the short Gnome-thing?" Thanquol demanded of his follower.
Immediately the Headman stepped forward before pointing into the building of the Scarlet Monastery. "He's already moved his research into the Monastery, we're trying to keep him out of view to keep your enemies from spying on you and stealing your brilliant ideas of course. However I think we need to focus on the battle, to help your rivals forget about him so we can sneak him away while they all watch your brilliant command of the battle with jealousy."
Thanquol smiled, had a brilliant entirely unique idea now. He would have the Gnome-thing smuggled away all while blinding everyone else with his brilliant leadership. No one would know of what schemes he had in practice behind the scenes. A truly devious plot to use the rest of the world's inherent jealousy of his power to his advantage.
"Yes-yes, plot-scheme to move Tillux! My-my brilliance will find a great place to send him. But first I will show all how mighty-smart I am at war!" Thanquol cheered, breaking into a power-mad giggle. Thanquol then triumphantly strode forward, certainly finding his own way and not in any way guided by the Headman to where Executor Zygand and Aleksandr had both gathered. I'm the sunlight. Aleksandr looked weak and feeble, like he may run for the safety of the shade, and he certainly was pathetic compared to the grand visage of Thanquol.
A clump of dirt clinging to Thanquol's clothes betrayed Thanquol, thinking that it could trip and kill him, but his body was certainly stronger than a simple stumble, and his reflexes would have been fast enough that no one would have noticed the betrayal by the clump of dirt, but to display this endurance... By choice... Thanquol fell face first into the ground before snorting, punishing the offending ground with his fist and muttered curses, and then picked himself up to continue striding to the treacherous Zygand and the vile Aleksandr.
The ever-annoying Tarei shifted from a bat taking form next to Aleksandr sneering in what could only be envy-driven contempt for the Greatest Grey Seer. However, it was Executor Zygand who spoke first. "Grey Seer Thanquol, it's good to see you escaped Brill safely. Unfortunately, the battle has gone poorly since the evacuation. But word has come from Sylvanas; our part in the war is thankfully over. She will be taking command and engaging the Alliance."
Thanquol's eye twitched. Zygand's scheme was clear to Thanquol now; he dared to remove the brilliant Grey Seer from command by using the Chieftain! But their incompetence would clearly cause them all to fail without his illustrious guidance! But they would be dragging him down with them all at this rate; their stupidity next to the natural brilliance of a Skaven, of he the Horned Rat's chosen, was doomed to cause catastrophic failure. Still, if he wanted to steal-take command of the battle to show his brilliance and hide moving his warpstone-making slave, he needed to know what stupid-dumb idea they were trying to do now.
So Thanquol lowered himself. "Then what is Great-wise Sylvanas plan to crush-kill the enemy?" Thanquol begged of the executor while lowering his head. Meanwhile, Tarei's scowl deepened and even Aleksandr sneered.
If Zygand could see Thanquol's intent, his disgust at these inferior nobodies, then he hid it with a worrying talent. However, Thanquol was a master of hiding his intentions from his leaders; indeed, only Felix and Gotrek had the foresight and divine purpose to spite his every step. So the Executor of the Forsaken began his explanation to Thanquol.
The Undead corpse-thing pulled out and laid out a map with tokens showing each force spread all across all of the continent of Lordaeron. Though there was a separate square that also was marked as Lordaeron with far more pieces laid out more intricately. "Clan Pestilens to our East is currently on the retreat; their war supplies were sabotaged by the enemy long before the battle began. However, their numbers have successfully stalled the Alliance allies of the Wildhammer clan, and now Deathguard is reinforcing every pass into Tirisfal the Dwarves might take. The Footmen of Stormgarde are rerouting north to add their number to the Wildhammer forces; however, our southern forces are harassing their movements. Lastly, the Gilneas ambush force has made their way past Silverpine High command and is rejoining with Sylvanas command. She intends to have the Horde meet the Alliance on the walls of Lordaeron, and once the Alliance is arrayed against the city, to then meet them in the fields while striking them from every flank. Our Adventurers will then destroy the Alliance's supplies, and Sylvanas will destroy the Alliance's main army wholesale, breaking their spirits entirely."
Thanquol smiled in a subtle way only a master like himself could, certainly invisible to all those standing around him. For he had learned a technique that could easily frustrate one giving such orders to one who is their better, and it would work on Zygand just as well as the Banshee Queen. "Why?"
Zygand paused, and Aleksandr raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" Zygand asked confusion in his voice.
However, before Thanquol could think of a brilliant question to show his vast superiority over the inferior non-skaven corpse-thing the Headman showed that some of his master's brilliance had rubbed off on him by asking a question that certainly would have been inferior to what Thanquol's mind would have thought of, but more than enough to achieve Thanquol's goal.
"Why are we denying the Alliance a path to flee like the cowards they are? Why are we risking our limited adventurers only to ensure the Alliance fights like a cornered bear?" The Headman asked a look of what had to be faux concern on his face. After all, he was serving Thanquol's purpose and was solely devoted to the Grey Seer.
Aleksandr seemed to smirk, suggesting he was the more intelligent of Thanquol's rivals and likely the one behind the assassination attempt of weakening the mine, knowing that Thanquol would collapse it in their enemies. However, it still could be Zygand was much better at acting, after all the pathetic corpse-thing was being upstaged left and right, and clearly wished to be as close to Sylvanas as Thanquol's brilliance had made the all-too-worthy Grey Seer. But the Executor eventually answered. "I assume that Sylvanas has a plan to deal with the Alliance making it impossible for them to fight back once the encirclement is complete. I do not question the Banshee Queen's design; I only make it possible and make sure we serve the Horde as best we can. Likely, the plan is made to account for the fact that we certainly will face failures and difficulties."
Now Aleksandr stepped in, adding his own voice and declarations to the conversation. "Mine purpose here is not to waste mine time making up for thy inadequacies. I must face mine Master, and give an account of our dealings here. I leave Tarei to witness thy actions and foolishness." And with a flourish, Aleksandr left into the Scarlet Monastery with an escort of most of his Shuk'tar, leaving only Tarei and two others standing, glaring at their Forsaken counterparts and at Thanquol.
This certainly served to disrupt Zygand. Meanwhile, Thanquol's brilliant mind certainly wasn't distracted, fearing that Aleksandr had gone to kill his Gnomish servant. Thanquol wasn't so distracted that he missed the exchange between Tarei and Zygand, it was simply too far beneath a great and all-mighty Grey Seer to care about.
"So Grey Seer, what do you think of this suggestion?" Thanquol's vastly brilliant mind was pulled down from thoughts of the great struggle he had with the scheming Aleksandr and back to the petty planning of the war. He certainly wasn't startled and he certainly was brilliant enough to see through the confusing array of tokens that someone had put on a new second map that showed Tirisfal which had suddenly appeared from somewhere.
Thanquol's eyes darted over the map while Zygand frowned, unable to see the brilliance taking place while only the Headman could see the brilliance, and so to show it to the others, they began reciting the map and tokens to Thanquol while also suggesting petty alternatives. However, there was one thing that was standing out to Thanquol, a way he could rub his smarts in these leaders faces.
"Why? Why destroy the food-food? Why not take the guns and tanks? Are your people dumb-stupid?" Sure, it felt like a grasp even to Thanquol, but he was these people's superior; surely they had never thought of this, and he was the first to ever think of such a thing.
Across from Thanquol Zygand balked, surely confused by the blinding brilliance before him. However before the reddening Corpse could say anything the Headman interjected. "It's a legitimate plan. The Alliance is surely going to use Gnomish war machines. Why it would be far more difficult to steal their supplies and we don't have enough troops or adventurers to do so. Surely we can turn the Alliance's weapons loose against them, sow chaos in their ranks and make away with whatever supplies we can destroying the rest. We can strengthen our position while striking them... Is surely what Thanquol is suggesting. Am I correct Grey Seer."
Thanquol blinked. They couldn't just grab all the food and guns? Were they that few and that weak? Of course he had known that, his mind was just on more important matters like figuring out the last time he had used his warp dust to... Reinforce his already outstanding power. Of course that's what he has meant, his own Brilliance truly blinded even himself at times. There was a reason even the gods sought to spite Thanquol every chance they had. "Yes-yes, that is what Thanquol means! Foolish things why can you not keep pace with the Great and Mighty Thanquol?"
Reviews:
Guest 1: los Kroot, menos sus naves espaciales y armas espaciales, tendrían bastante éxito, ciertamente no serían una fuerza importante, pero no tendrían mucho en contra de ellos. aunque el espiritualismo y la restricción de su alimentación y la competencia natural con los mercenarios ogros probablemente se convertirían en rivales raciales.
Guest 2/3: Ents can not breed and are a true dying race rather than the BS of GW and Blizzard. WoW has sort of disparaged their Ancients and made them both a bunch of dependents and fewer in number than suggested before. So I give it to the independently strong and capable Treemen but not by too much
Dragon King of the West: indeed stalls an loss of time, even minutes had cost many military capaigns everything.
CzKarsten: Date-A live Nagash edditon.
JiggyliFAP: see i was on the assumption it was dead, but i couldn't confirm and i secon guess and have to confirm again so often it's part of why i present myself so arrogantly since i have to double check everything so often. Also why i hate hard Retcons so much, "what do you mean this thing i read 20 times never happened?"
keep the word count down so chapters can release more frequently AND to prevent burnout.