My first thought was bears. Or rather, bear – no plural. I thought that maybe the bear from the woods had tracked me or something, and was so pissed that I’d stolen its banshee flower that it wanted to kill me for a second time.
Instead, I was surprised to see eight grunders heading in my direction. My visit to their village in the south made it seem like they did their best to appear more sophisticated than the rats and other critters that they resembled, but not today. These grunders were sprinting on all fours.
I brought my spear out from my inventory and then headed into the hamlet, ready to round everyone up and warn them that we were under attack. It occurred to me that maybe we needed a giant bell for that very purpose.
But the grunders didn’t attack.
They didn’t even follow me.
Instead, they gathered at the hamlet sign and didn’t make any move to enter our settlement. Among them, I saw was Oak, the grunder chief. He looked especially old today, and he was wearing a fur coat with four holes for his paws and legs to fit into. One of the grunders picked up Marvin’s request book and sniffed it, but Oak slapped it out of his hand.
He said something, and thanks to my language skill, I was able to pick out a smattering of his words.
“Put…it…not…yours…”
“Sorry chief,” replied the rebuked grunder.
Hilly joined me, sword raised. She was wearing just her trousers and shirt and tanning apron, no battle gear. At least, not at first. One rummage in her inventory later, and she was dressed as though she was heading into battle.
“I’ll take the old one,” she said. “Whatever happens, let me have him. Smug old git.”
“What’s going on?”
Linc was wearing a checkered shirt – green and brown. Around his waist was a leather belt that Hilly had made for him. It had twelve loops, each big enough to fit a potion vial. When he put a vial into a loop he just needed to tug something on the belt’s other side, and the loop tightened and held the vial in place. Like with all potions, merely holding his index finger against the glass would let him quickly consume it.
What the potions were, I had no idea. I recognized the blood-red liquid of a healing potion. But the others were strange. Some were gloopy like glue. Others looked to me like vomit. They were definitely potions that you’d quick-consume rather than actually drinking them.
“These guys followed me here, I think,” I said. “Either that or they were heading here and it was just a coincidence that we met at the same time.”
“Aren’t those the fellas who we made a trade deal with?”
“Sure are,” said Hilly. “They’re holding some of Josh’s shovels.”
“Crude shovels. Not something to go to a fight with.”
“Still. I knew something bad would come from arming a bunch of overgrown rats.”
“I didn’t arm them. If a gardener walked toward you holding a shovel, would you shout for a cop and tell ‘em that the guy was armed?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Just stay here a second,” I said.
I started toward the grunders. Hilly caught hold of my arm. “Hold on. If anyone’s gonna kill ‘em, it might as well be me. I get skill points for my attacks.”
“They’re not here for a fight, Look at them. They aren’t moving.”
“Maybe they can’t get any closer. This is a player-owned hamlet,” said Linc.
Hilly shook her head. “Nope. A place only gets critter protection as a perk when it’s a village. If the grunders wanted to attack, they could. Assuming they figure out that they can climb over the gate.”
“We can get attacked while we’re in here? Then why aren’t the fences higher and stuff! You’re the head of defense!”
“Sure, and that’s why I’m always hunting close by. I’ve spent so much time exploring Gobbler’s Creek I could tell you every animal that’s in it. I even named some of ‘em. For instance, there’s a wild boar called Percy who roams near a pond northeast. In any case, the only mobs around here likely to come near the hamlet are the wolves and the grunders. We decided to make a trade deal with the grunders, so that leaves wolves. And they won’t attack a place that’s populated. Hence, I deemed us secure.”
I approached the grunders, some of whom shrank back in my presence, while others quivered with barely contained hostility. Oak regarded me with old, ratty eyes that contained more than a spark of wisdom.
Hilly and Linc followed me close behind.
“Hello, human,” said Oak. “May…enter?”
“Maybe. If…tell…why…here,” I replied.
“Huh?” said Hilly. “What am I missing here? You can understand them?”
I explained to Hilly that I had earned the language skill, and that I had done it by using a human-grunder skill tome.
I hadn’t been entirely sure how it worked until now, but the way I figured it was this. Whatever the grunders said, the game rendered it as unintelligible rat language to Hilly and Linc. To me, however, it played it in English. Then, when I spoke to the grunders, the game allowed them to understand me. But when Linc or Hilly spoke to them, the grunders had no clue what they were saying.
“We…in trouble,” said Oak. “Deep, deep trouble.”
I repeated this to Hilly and Linc.
“Well we don’t want it brought to our doorstep. Scram,” said Hilly. “Josh. Translate what I just said. Tell ‘em to scram.”
“Lady questions our motivations for helping in your troubles,” I said.
Oak took a pouch from his robe. It was a coin purse, and it was bulging with coins. With his rat claws, Oak opened it and took out a gold coin.
“We have more of gold toys you covet. But must help.”
Soon after, we gathered in the Blade and Grunder. When I led the grunders through the hamlet, they had been scared of the sounds coming from Gorgal’s forge. One of the braver, younger grunders spotted Hanz and Franz on the roof of their hut, messing with their telescope. Despite the urging of an older grunder, it climbed up and joined the boys.
Franz was scared and backed away to the edge of the roof, whereas Hanz smiled brightly at the rat-like creature. “Would you like to look through the telescope?” he asked.
At the Blade and Grunder, the creatures stared at the tavern sign hanging above the door. Hercule had commissioned it from a sign maker in Westfell, but since I was paying him, I had made a few suggestions. As such, the sign depicted three brave, strong-looking human adventurers standing proud and holding blades, and near them were grunders prowling through the grass.
The grunders pointed at the sign and spoke too excitedly for my apprentice language skill to follow.
“Yes,” said Oak. “I see it. Be quiet.”
The tavern was empty tonight. With the Endless Dark season in full sway, the NPCs were programmed to travel less on the country roads when it was night, since critter activity was increased after dark in any case, and it doubly increased in Endless Dark nights.
This meant that Hercule found himself at a loose end, and when we entered the tavern we caught him filling a few minutes of it by dressing Big George, his stuffed bear, in some rough combat leathers that Hilly had given to him. While learning tanning and basic armory, she had made lots of practice armor that was mostly worthless, and she donated it to everyone she could.
“Why not just throw it away?” Linc had asked her.
“I should…but knowing I made it, I can’t bring myself to.”
Gorgal, Frenrita, Hanz, and Franz entered the tavern shortly after, meaning that quite a crowd of us were there for the grunders’ summit and to hear their woes. Hercule dragged two tables together in the center of the room so that we could all sit close to each other.
Ever the host, the barman took our drinks orders, and even offered to get a stew going.
“I got plenty of beef leftover, thanks to Hilly. I can make us a nice beef and ale stew. How’s that sound, huh?”
Never ones to turn down Hercule’s cooking, we agreed that it sounded great. Gorgal asked for some pickled herring, and Hercule said he didn’t have any. When a look of disappointment crossed the blacksmith’s face, Hercule laughed and said he was only kidding.
“Some pickled herring, comin’ right up,” he said, clicking his fingers then pointing at Gorgal. Then he said to Hanz and Franz, “You boys got a taste for herring like your old man here?”
Franz looked at Hanz, waiting for his brother to speak.
Hanz said, “Ugh. No.”
“Disgusting,” Franz then agreed.
“Okay. So beef stew for you guys, herring for Gorgal here. Nothing for you, Frenrita? You sure? Okay then. Now. That just leaves you fellas.” He asked me to ask the grunders if they were hungry, and if so, what they liked to eat.
Gorgal was about to speak, but I asked the grunders first, and the blacksmith gave me an impressed smile. From then on, however, I asked Gorgal to take over translation duties in the interest of speed.
“We eat only that which grows in the ground or on trees,” said Oak. “We thank you, man of the tavern, but we had communal feast but four hours ago.”
Hercule nodded. “Right you are, then.”
“So,” I said, facing Oak, “Let’s talk turkey.”
Gorgal translated this literally.
“Turkey? Why would we do that?”
“Never mind. Just tell me what’s going on.”
Hilly nudged Linc. “Weird as hell, seeing Gorgal and Josh talk to them, ain’t it?”
“It’s fascinating.”
“May you please be quiet,” said Oak.
Gorgal translated this for Hilly and Linc. Hilly glared at the old grunder, but said nothing.
Oak proceeded to tell me what had gotten the grunders so worked up that they had journeyed all the way here to a human settlement to ask for help.
It turned out that an emissary had recently arrived at their settlement. It was a representative from the grunder settlement east some ways, led by an individual named Redfang.
“Redfang is taller than other grunders,” said Oak. “And he is stronger. On his back he wears the toughened hide of a cow, shaped and treated for battle.”
Gorgal translated what Oak said as he said it. Hearing this, Hilly said, “Leather armor?”
I repeated it to Oak.
“Yes, leather armor – armor of the dead cow. The protection of the heifer. The toughened battlements of the bovine.”
“Okay, we get it,” I said.
“Red fang has one great, red tooth that can crush through a shield of metal, and it is said that with it, he has murdered menfolk and grunders alike.”
“Okay, okay. So this Redfang. What did he want?”
Redfang, Oak told us, had heard about Oak’s dealings with what he called ‘the loathsome two-legged apes.’ Oak assured me that this wasn’t a poetic embellishment on his part, and that Redfang’s emissary had really said it.
At any rate, Redfang was disgusted that Oak would give a golden shower – evidently, he didn’t know the word for coins either – to the humans, and he’d decided that Oak’s settlement was giving grunders a bad reputation.
As such, he’d decided to obliterate them.
“He’d really do that? Grunder versus grunder?” I said.
Gorgal said, “Grunders eat own babies sometimes. When litter is big and times are bleak.”
Hilly, after digesting everything Gorgal and I translated for her, said, “So, you want us to take care of this Redfang dude for ya. You want us to kill him, slaughter his best warriors, burn down his settlement, and then bury his ashes in a pit where no sunlight ever reaches. That’s what I’m hearing from you, Oak. Tell me if I’m wrong. Oh! Food’s here!”
Hercule arrived bearing metal trays stacked with bowls of stew. He dished these out, before disappearing and then returning with yet another tray. This one had hunks of bread for dipping in the stew, as well as a generous bowl of pickled herring. Franz saw the fish dish placed in front of his father and eyed it hungrily until he saw that Hanz was pinching his nose and then he did the same.
Seeing the feast laid in front of us, the grunders eyed the fare with hungry eyes. Without a word, Hercule went to the kitchen, returning soon after with bowls full of chopped wild onions, shredded lettuce, carrots, and roasted broccoli.
He laid this in front of Oak and his people. The grunders waited for Oak to take the first bite and then, most likely through custom, began to eat as well.
“Redfang has delivered his ultimatum,” said Oak, who had a stray piece of lettuce stuck to his snout.
“An ultimatum implies a choice. What’s he demanding of you?” said Hilly.
“Nothing. He says he will destroy us.”
“That’s not an ultimatum, then. It’s a threat. Or maybe a statement of fact.”
“I don’t think he really cares about the semantics,” I said.
The tavern door opened and in scurried a grunder. Young, with a slinky body that was covered in mud. It moved quickly and with little sound, and its thigh and shoulder muscles tensed with surprising knots of muscle.
“Ah. Scout Darric. You have returned,” said Oak.
Darric the grunder scout nodded. He had an unusually serious look on his face when compared with the other grunders who, even when threatened by their destruction, retained an almost cute look.
The scout composed himself.
“Redfang approaches, Chief Oak. He and forty of his best warriors are coming from the south.”