Green Tide 5 (1/2)

“Gotta say, I’m surprised yer still kickin’ Gux,” Hilda commented. “Was expectin’ ye to have drowned ‘cus you fancied a swim in molten lava.”

“Gux had indeed tried that since we last met, old friend,” he responded. “Gux found the lava surprisingly pleasant, if a bit smoky.”

“Oh come off it,” Keira grumbled. “I don’t care how tough you are, nobody can swim in lava then come out unscathed.”

“I dunno, I bet I could do it,” Fizzy chimed in. “Then again, that’s mostly because it’s not nearly hot enough to melt through my fabulous frame.”

The four of them were currently trekking through the overgrown jungles of Velos. Well, Gux was technically floating slightly above them while in a cross-legged sitting position, but that was mostly because the razorscale raptor found it less tiring than walking. Even if he was a high Level magic user, fighter types like the other three simply had a lot more stamina and endurance.

“Yeah, but Gux is flesh and blood,” the catgirl pointed out. “Those typically have a lower melting point than mithril.”

“He’s a Hero like yerself, lass,” Hilda chimed in. “One of his special Skills makes him immune to environmental hazards so long as they’re natural and not in a dungeon or somethin’.”

“So, what? Lava won’t burn him?”

“Nope. He can still fooken drown, though.”

“Actually, Null tells me lava’s too dense to let a meatbag sink in it,” Fizzy pointed out.

“Huh. Did not know that. Well, live and learn I s’pose,” Hilda said with a shrug.

“Where did you even find actual flowing laval?” the catgirl inquired.

“Gux came across an erupting volcano while exploring the region of Hell.”

“Hell?!” she practically screamed. “You went to Hell?! Like, of your own volition?!”

“It is surprisingly scenic and calming so long as one manages to avoid disturbing the locals.”

He made it sound like that was no big deal, but the fact of the matter was that one of those ‘locals’ was none other than the elder dragon Hadros, a castle-sized cataclysm of flame, greed and spite. The day it moved into the Horkensaft Kingdom and claimed the volcanic region of Hell as its own was one of the darkest moments in dwarven history. Hadros not only denied them access to the bountiful and valuable minerals found within Hell, but also displaced or incinerated tens of thousands of people. He also effectively held the entire Kingdom hostage for ransom, forcing them to pay a yearly tribute of gold and jewels in exchange for not turning it into ash.

And Gux was claiming that he went to such a place and risked provoking an actual elder dragon because he wanted to go sightseeing.

“Wow. Okay. I take back what I said during the meeting, you’re as crazy as a horse’s sock at sunset,” Keira said while shaking her head.

One would think the Heroes would have had more important things to discuss at their meeting than the Hero of Rain’s sanity, or lack thereof, but that was not the case. Sigmund, Hesk and Gux had very little information to share beyond the identity of the orc warlord, who apparently went by the name Gutzstompa. It went without question that he would be a force to be reckoned with, and not only because of his clearly superior physique and advanced species. The biggest problem when dealing with him would be the sheer number of monsters under his control.

Common orcs, typically referred to as peons or grunts, were complete savages that acted purely on instinct. They had very little in the way of individual thoughts or wants beyond the basic desires present in all living things. However, what set them apart from other tribal monsters like gnolls or goblins was their unique racial Skill, the Green Tide. In essence, it allowed orcs within the same warband to link together in a sort of subliminal psychic network. The more individuals that joined the same connection, the more their mental and physical abilities rose as a whole, and the more likely it was that a warlord capable of leading them would appear.

And with a staggering hundred thousand orcs under his command, Gutzstompa’s horde had the potential to wage warfare that would make the Lodrak Empire look like children swinging toy swords around. Logistics, strategy, troop movements, armaments and siege weaponry would be organized and brought to bear against the Eight Tribes of Velos. The worst part was that these orcs would fight like seasoned veterans, with strength and endurance far surpassing that of the greenskins found in roaming independent groups.

Nevertheless, there were ways and means to combat this effect, such as thinning the orcish scourge. That was part of the reason why Fizzy, Keira, Gux and Hilda were out here in the jungle to begin with. They were currently on their way to the reported location of an orc camp, where roughly two thousand of the beasts were reportedly making war preparations. Taking that group out would not make too much of a dent in the enemy’s numbers, but it was a start. Besides, eradication wasn’t their main objective, but merely a byproduct of their actual goal.

Which was to help harvest the 3,719 orc corpses that the LIAR demanded in order to reveal the secret behind Gutzstompa’s sudden rise to power. The other Heroes were also engaged in similar missions. Kaede, Hesk, and a joint strike force between the Broadfang and Mistclaw tribes were on their way to assault an orc-infested swampy region. They planned to use extensive hit and run tactics to gradually whittle down the nearly eight thousand greenskins that resided there. Sigmund and a contingent of his Inquisition forces went to investigate an old mine that supposedly became an orc nest, with Orrin and a dozen of his fellow giants for support.

As for Nao, he and Kuro had borrowed a griffin to carry them to various points on Velos in order to carry out their own independent investigation. Even if the LIAR gave factually accurate answers, there was a solid chance that ‘What is the root cause of the current orcish invasion?’ was not the right question. The wolfkin pair had a few extra hands keeping them company, but for the most part the bulk of the adventurers and Eight Tribes’ forces were currently digging themselves in. There were several teams of elite fighters that were sent to carry out preemptive strikes against the orcs.

Granted, none of them would be anywhere near as outnumbered as Keira’s group, but considering the people in it, even five hundred to one seemed unfair towards the orcs.

“Hold.”

The catgirl raised an arm and gave a quiet word of caution, causing the other three to stop in their tracks.

“There’s a faint scent of burning flesh in the air,” she reported. “I’m also hearing the sound of metal striking metal.”

“Combat?” Hilda asked in a whisper.

“No, it’s too rhythmic. It’s either smithing or construction.”

“Sounds like our target, alright.”

“I’ll go scout ahead. You three there stay here and wait for my return.”

Keira accessed her belt-mounted magical storage and withdrew her Prismatic Cloak.

“Gux could investigate with the Wandering Mind,” the sightless raptor offered.

“I’d much rather you stay here and watch for- Uh, I mean, keep Fizzy and Hilda out of trouble. The last thing we need is for the orcs to find us and go on high alert before we’re ready.”

The catgirl threw on the multi-colored hooded garment, making herself invisible to the naked eye. There was then a rustling of bushes and vines as she disappeared completely, almost like a ghost.

“The Chosen of Chaos does not seem to trust Gux much,” the raptor remarked.

“Sure she does, she just trusts herself more,” Fizzy claimed.

In reality, Boxxy simply wanted to be as far away from Gux as feasibly possible. A Psionic’s Skills made them perceptive in troublesome ways, and this Level 100 mindbender would have surely sensed Keira’s true nature if not for the catgirl’s helmet. It had been specially enchanted to ward off telepathic probing, as such things were the number one threat to Boxxy’s Facade. It probably wouldn’t be able to block Gux if he actively tried to bypass it, but that would essentially be an attack on Keira’s person, which would likely lead to a Clash of Fate. Even if it did give the catgirl a legitimate reason to fight back and possibly kill the raptor, it was a scenario that the once-mimic wanted to avoid if at all possible.

Which was precisely why it had that mind-shielding helmet made in the first place. It, much like the other pieces of Keira’s current equipment, belonged to one of several sets of armor, each with their own enchantments and effects. One was geared towards desert travel, others designed to help tackle extreme weather conditions, and there was even a set aimed at facilitating underwater exploration. Having an extensive ‘wardrobe’ like that was nothing out of the ordinary for accomplished adventurers, so Keira owning all that stuff was almost to be expected. Nobody would question her why she wore an anti-Psionic helmet, either, as people were inherently distrustful towards users of mind-altering magic. However, it was not one that Boxxy wore regularly, chiefly because it also had the side effects of blocking the passive thought link between itself and its familiars. And now that it had put some distance between itself and Gux, the shapeshifter removed its headgear and called out to its pet demons.

“Claws, Snack, made any progress?”

“I’m afraid not, Master,” the stalker replied. “This dungeon is very well hidden.”

“Either that or it requires some special circumstances or conditions to be met before one can enter,” the other demoness chimed in.

“You think we might have another Stairway to Heaven situation?” Boxxy asked warily.

Stairway to Heaven was a dungeon under Teresa’s control, and as such did not allow entry to anyone that had been ‘seduced by unholy powers.’ Which in more practical terms meant Taboo holders, Necromancers, and Warlocks with demonic familiars. Needless to say, the shapeshifter was most disappointed when it failed to plunder its riches because it physically could not enter it. It was a feature that had a very significant MP upkeep, and as such was only available to high tier dungeons.

“I dare say it is a non-zero possibility, Master,” Xera stated. “Given its approximate location, the one we are searching for most likely belongs to Axel.”

“And we all know how the God of War and Combat feels about monsters, huh?”

“Precisely. It would not surprise me if there was an ‘enlightened only’ rule involved.”

“We’ll deal with that later. Right now I need you to focus on tracking down its location. Same to you, Claws.”

“Understood, Master,” the two replied in unison.

Truthfully speaking though, neither of them were likely to find any useful leads. Drea was taking the direct approach to using her mana-sensitive eyesight to track down potential dungeon locations, but she had a massive, sprawling jungle to search through. As for the djinn, it was unlikely she’d find anything out from the locals since they were all preoccupied with the orc threat. That was also why Boxxy barely got a chance to ask around as Keira before its Facade had to attend this mission. It would appear that the fastest way to dig up the whereabouts of this Gauntlet was to resolve the greenskin problem.

Which was precisely why it had sent Kora to engage a particularly massive group of orcs that Hesk’s scouts warned Keira about, some forty kilometres south of the catgirl’s current position. The archfiend was sent there to test the enemy’s strength, which she deemed was nothing to worry about when Boxxy last heard from her a few hours ago. The orcs had unsurprisingly overwhelmed and killed her, though not before she slaughtered enough of them to give her master a Perk.

Hunter of Orcs

Description: Repetition is the mother of learning. Especially when it comes to slaughter.

Requirements: Kill more than 2,000 orcs.

Effects: Increases all damage dealt to orcs by 5%.

Reduces all damage taken from orcs by 5%.

Admittedly this was more of an upgrade since Keira’s dungeon-delving had already earned Boxxy the Slayer of Orcs title at five hundred kills and then some. However, if the monster’s calculations were correct, that still meant its pet brawler had eliminated somewhere around a thousand of them all by herself. That alone was more than enough for the doppelganger to confirm that the orcs were not a threat to it personally. Admittedly it was difficult to tell whether Arms’s feat was possible because the orcs were not as tough as expected or because archfiends were ridiculous, but it didn’t matter all that much. If a single-minded pinhead like her could kill so many of the orcs with no support, then Boxxy’s troupe could probably wipe out all hundred thousand of them if given enough time.

Not that the shapeshifter had any intention of doing so. Simply put, there was no profit to be had in the wholesale slaughter of a bunch of mindless savages that wouldn’t know where to find a shiny thing even if it was shoved up their backsides. It would still massacre a bunch of them to blow off some steam, but that would have to wait until Keira fulfilled her duties. Slipping the mind-shielding helmet back on, the catgirl tracked down a roaming band of thirty or so orcs. She leapt from treetop to treetop while under the cover of her Prismatic Cloak’s invisibility as she followed them. This lot appeared to be a hunting party coming back with their catch - a live jungle janther. The massive beast had had most of its legs severed and was being dragged along by its stumps, but the fact that it was still alive suggested it would not be turned into food.

Instead, the greenskins would most probably use the creature to facilitate their grotesque reproductive cycle. They needed to ‘plant their seed’ inside a living being, which would soon develop into a number of flesh-eating slug-like parasites. These larvae would consume both their unwilling host and each other as they rapidly grew in size. The survivors would eventually burst out of their ‘mother’ and finish eating up the rest of the corpse before entering a cocoon-like state much like a butterfly. Needless to say, the thing that would pop out of that would be far more grotesque and vicious than a tiny insect with colorful wings.

Not that this lot and their catch would have the opportunity to engage in that vile process, as they had led Keira straight to their base camp. It was a primitive settlement dominated by wonky tents and spike-covered burrows. About twenty of the canvas-covered dwellings were far larger than the rest and spewed a constant stream of smoke as the orcs within readied their weapons of war. The perimeter of the camp had been left almost completely barren since its residents had consumed all plant and animal life within about a hundred and forty meters of it and were showing no sign of stopping. Population wise there seemed to be about two thousand of them, give or take a few hundred. Their military composition consisted entirely of melee-oriented brutes carrying clubs, swords and axes of various sizes and shapes with barely any armor or clothing on them.

It wasn’t the most ideal of setups to say the least, but the orcs didn’t really have a choice in the matter. Lacking any individual thought made it practically impossible for any of the common grunts to harness the power of magic. Their thick fingers and wide frames, on the other hand, made them ill-suited to archery or subterfuge, but excellent at cracking skulls. Therefore, an entire camp of nothing but brawlers was not only to be expected, but also matched up perfectly with the briefing Keira had been given after that Hero conference two days ago.

However, the report she had been given neglected to mention the presence of an orc warlord. It was relatively easy to spot him considering he was significantly taller and more vocal than the rest, not to mention far more articulate. He was likely an underling of the ‘big boss’ called Gutzstompa and was acting as an overseer for this particular encampment. What made him stand out even more was the fact that he was obviously a magic user. A Necromancer if the shambling half-rotten orc corpses he was barking orders at were any indication.

After confirming everything with her own eyes, Keira retreated to a more secluded spot and reported her findings back to Hilda via Comm-crystal.

“A Necromancer? That’s odd,” the dwarf-shaped illusion remarked.

“Yeah, I know,” the catgirl agreed. “I thought tribal monsters like orcs, goblins and the like could only get more ‘fire and forget’ Jobs, like Druid or Pyromancer.”

“Dunno what to tell ye, lass. Orcs ain’t my speciality. What do ye think, Gux?” she asked while turning her head to the side. “That so? … Alright then. Cloud-brain here says he’s seen orc Warlocks before so I guess it’s not all that unusual. ‘Sides, those zombies won’t be any trouble with yer trophy wife around.”

“I suppose, though his presence does gives me an idea. I think we can use him to our advantage.”

“Oh? Ye got a plan of some kind brewin’?”

“You could say that, yeah.”

“Is it better than mine?”

“Hilda, literally anything is a better plan than ‘swinging my axe until my arms get tired.’ That’s not even a plan!”

“Careful there. Ye’re startin’ to sound a lot like that shoestrap Faehorn.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment. I’m on my way back, I’ll explain everything when I get back there.”

About two hours later, the orc camp was still unaware of the adventurers right outside their doorstep. The orcs were milling about, either busy with carrying materials, shaping them into weapons or viciously beating each other half to death for no apparent reason. They were so absorbed in their own daily grind that they didn’t even notice Hilda leaving the dense jungle and stepping onto the orc-ravaged portion of the land. Admittedly being a dwarf meant she wasn’t all that tall, but she was still clad head-to-toe in black adamantite armor against a backdrop of bright green vegetation. The bright red plume of hair sticking out of the top of her helmet only contributed to her eyesore status. Yet the orcs completely failed to notice her, despite the fact that she was now roughly fifty meters from their camp.

This was a problem, but not something Hilda couldn’t resolve. As a Berserker, she had the ability to produce certain effects with the power of her voice. Her Ultimate Skill, Tempest of Rage, was a testament to that aspect of her primary Job. The ability to both empower allies and demoralize enemies en masse with a single ear-piercing war cry was sure to be very useful in this campaign, but this was neither the time nor place for it. Her goal was to merely get their attention and make them follow her into the jungle, which she could accomplish by employing a much more basic Skill.

Hilda took as deep a breath as her powerful lungs could, then employed the rather fancifully named Belligerent Roar, which was empowered beyond its normal limits by her War Crier Skill.

“Oi! Green cunts!”

The magically amplified profanity drowned out all other noise as it echoed across the camp, inside the orcs’ skulls and into the jungle beyond. Those savages were just bundles of hate and anger wrapped in green skin, so the vocal Skill’s aggression-coaxing properties made them instantly go berserk. However, though they gathered together while making an awful racket, the orcs refused to go beyond the flimsy fence surrounding their camp. They were almost like a pack of rabid dogs barking at something beyond the reach of their leash.

“Wot’s all dis, den?!”

The borderline feral greenskins made way for the only one among them that could actually speak words. He was an orc standing at a fiend-like height of over two and a half meters, draped in a loose-fitting set of hooded robes haphazardly sewn together from the scaly hide of a hydra and holding a staff carved out of some sort of massive bone. It was the spitting image of the Necromancer overseer Keira had described, allowing Hilda to easily identify him as such.

“Wot you wan, tin-man?!” he shouted at her.

The ‘man’ part of that irked the dwarf slightly, but she had more important things to deal with than arguing about her gender.

“I’m lookin’ fer a fight, ye daft git!” she shouted back. “I heard ye orcs were s’posed to be tough, but all I see is a bunch of flower-sniffin’ pansies!”

“Wot?! You fink I wuz born yesterday? Ay?! A bunch of me boyz iz missin, an den you show up makin all dat noiz? Sumfin tellin me you’z gotz all kindz of nastiez waitin for us!”

It would appear that the orc had noticed that several of his patrols and hunting parties had mysteriously gone missing, and had grown suspicious as a direct result of that.

“If you wanna proper foight, you cum to us! If not, den shove off! We gotz a sketch-, a shed- We gotz stuff to do!”

He then turned around as if to leave, suggesting he had no intention to give into those taunts. It would appear this warlord was nowhere as dim as his species, looks and manner of speech would imply, but Hilda wasn’t worried. Even if he was keeping himself and the others from running wild, at the end of the day an orc was still an orc. It didn’t take much to get their kind riled up into a frenzy so long as one knew the right button to push.