Ocellus's Exciting Evening
The last light of twilight was going down over the horizon as battle was joined. The Bloodbarian chieftain roared. “All enemies within the sound of my voice, I curse your spirit to sleep!”
The words took hold as all but the furthest from him suddenly couldn't keep their eyes open. His subordinates took the opportunity to rush the field and batter the most vulnerable in the rear guard. The mages and archers desperately tried to hold ground and rouse their companions from slumber, but without their front lines it was a bloody affair. In short order, every victim was either beaten badly enough that they weren't getting back up, or had recovered from the dark magic.
The Bloodbarians had been cruel and efficient in their efforts, incapacitating those in the center of the heroes’ battle formation first, separating those that remained into two pockets individually too weak to mount an effective defense. The chieftain strode right down the center, over to one of the many bodies strewn on the ground. Some fool who thought robes and a staff were proper battle attire. The stallion’s body was battered, but he would live. Best to fix that. The mighty warrior placed his blade on his foe’s chest, trying to align it just right to finish the job clean.
“Death strike, one!” he bellowed over the melee. That got the heroes’ attention. A few to his right suddenly started pushing back harder than before. The strike wasn't lined up right yet, so he readjusted.
“Death strike, TWO!” He almost had it lined up properly. Killing a stallion was tricky business. Had to do it just right.
“Death strike, THR-” A blade struck his aside at the moment right before it made its deadly plunge. A griffon hen stood before him, eyes defiant and poised for battle.
“If you want to get Fleeting Light, you go through me first,” she practically barked at the chieftain as she shifted her stance to pounce.
His only response was a grin that would have made Tirek shudder. "Very well!” Their blades clashed a moment later. As a gap in the hen’s guard opened, he aimed low with a mighty shout of “cleave!”
“Heh, parry,” his opponent shot back. Wounds reknit and blades continued flying. The chieftain found himself giving ground under the hen’s flurry of strikes. His forelegs had taken a beating, so he shifted his guard to better cover them.
Which was when the daring hero before him threw a wild slash straight for his chest with a shout of “SLAY!” Both sides paused for a moment to survey whether or not it had worked. The chieftain stood there a moment, shocked, before collapsing. The heroes picked the fight back up with a fervor, pushing the lines back to where their fallen lay, as the hen leveled her blade at the chieftain’s chest and began finding the right angle to sink the blade.
“Death strike one, death strike two, death strike three,” she mumbled. Then she extended a claw to the fresh corpse. “Search you?”
The very dead Bloodbarian chieftain reached a hoof into his saddlebags, pulled out a small bauble and some coins, and pressed them into his bitter enemy’s open claw. She gasped at what she saw there.
As the battle wound down and the healers who had been waiting to the side began their work, those heroes still conscious gathered round their champion. “Great work, Carvilia,” a mare in mage’s robes said to her. “Did he have anything good on him?”
Carvilia, still shocked at her good fortune, gave a noncommittal “Yeah” before pausing. Everyone around her leaned in to hear what it was.
“A Fire Trout!” She raised her prize high above her head so all assembled would know she was telling the truth. The tiny red fish was the most glorious thing the heroes had seen all day, and they raised Carvilia aloft on shoulders, hooves, and claws to bring her towards the tavern. “Drinks are on me, once I sell this bad boy!”
That got a rousing cheer from the entire town. A Fire Trout would buy a lot of drinks.
The defeated Bloodbarians wandered into a building at the center of the campsite, where smiling ponies greeted them as they changed out of the costumes and regained some appearance of normalcy. All but the Bloodbarian chieftain.
“So, how’d the fight go?” asked the head staffer to the chieftain.
A flash of green washed over him, and a demure little changeling took the place of the vicious warrior. “I thought I was doing good, Mystic Wish,” Ocellus said glumly, “but then Carvilia hit me with a slay.”
Mystic Wish took a moment to process that. “Ocellus, did you forget to take slays as damage and not a one-shot?”
Ocellus was nearly on the verge of tears. “Oh no, I’m sorry Wish! Now they just beat your big boss with barely a fight and they got the trout and-”
A hug cut her off before she could continue her train of thought. “It’s okay. We’ll just make the next fight super hard to make up for it. Do you want to go out on a talky shift for dinner?”
Ocellus nodded into his shoulder. “Okay, I've got a role for you. How about being a merchant? I'm thinking like a Canterlot-snooty type unicorn. Really fancy robes. Can you do that?”
As Mystic Wish let go of her, Ocellus was enveloped in green flames again. Standing before him was a tall, thin mare draped in the finest silks. “How's this?” she asked in an accent that oozed upper crust nobility.
“Perfect. Now while you're out, I want you to talk to Carvilia about the trout. And absolutely rip her off. Tell her that the rivers to the south are overflowing with them and the price is plummeting. If she pushes it, just tell her that she'll almost certainly find more over the weekend. Your budget is twenty Royals. You good with that?”
Ocellus could hardly believe her ears. “But I thought the players normally buy those for two hundred!”
Wish chuckled. “Exactly. They get it easily, we only buy it cheap. Oh, and when they definitely try to rob you, you're immune to knockout.” He reached into a bin filled with play money designed for the event. Cheaply made, but it looked nice enough to not break immersion. “There's enough for dinner and your ‘mission.’ Good luck!” Wish went around the room to the other staffers, giving them all enough coin to cover their meals as Ocellus began to make her way out the door and towards the tavern.
The esteemed merchantess Dazzleflash strode into the tavern without a glance for anyone around her. With a glare to the cook and an exchange of coin, a meal of sliced carrots on a bed of noodles with sweet sauce was provided. She took the plate and cutlery to a table across from a young hen who was all smiles.
“Hey, stranger! I'm Carvilia. What brings you to town?” A claw extended across the table, awaiting a shake.
No hoof met it. “Trade,” Dazzleflash said simply. “I don't suppose you have anything worth buying in this little hamlet?”
Carvilia’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Oh, have I got just the thing. Let me see here…” She pulled out a saddlebag and dug for a moment before finding her prize. “How much will you give me for a Fire Trout?”
Dazzleflash gazed at the tiny fish for a moment. “Ten Royals,” she said flatly.
“Ten? As in one-zero? Do you know what a Fire Trout stew does? I could get at least fifteen times that from Winter Vision because even that's selling low! How dumb do you think-”
Dazzleflash placed a hoof on the end of Carvilia’s beak. “I am aware that these things might seem rare. But the rivers south of here are in the middle of a spawning frenzy. If they were truly worth that much currently, I'd go there and cast a net and be a millionaire tonight. Well, more of a millionaire. As it stands, the markets in the area I plan on visiting will give me twenty-five if I'm lucky for it. Besides, you will doubtless find at least a few more in the next day or two.”
“I had to kill a Bloodbarian chieftain to get this, lady.”
“Dazzleflash.”
“Whatever. At least give me the twenty-five. Odds are the market will turn when this spawn ends, and if it doesn't you'll break even.”
Dazzleflash considered for a moment. “I suppose I could do twenty. But no more.”
Carvilia huffed in irritation. “Twenty-two.”
“Twenty.”
“Twenty-one?”
“Twenty.”
“Fine,” Carvilia said, stretching the single syllable out as long as she could. Without further argument, she handed over the fish and received her paltry payment.
As soon as the fish was in Dazzleflash’s bag, she felt a weapon prod her lightly at the base of her neck, and somebody mumbled “knockout.”
“Immune,” Dazzleflash said as she got up from her seat and wheeled around to whoever had laid a hoof on her. It was a dark green earth stallion, looking very much like a child who had just been caught with a hoof in the cookie jar. “How dare you? You see Royals changing hooves and your first instinct is to steal?”
She turned to the rapidly gathering crowd. “Where is the head of your constabulary? I demand to see them!”
A brown pegasus mare stepped forward from the crowd. “That'd be me, ma'am. Solid Steel, at your service. You say someone was tryin’ to steal from ya?”
“Yes, constable. This ruffian…” Dazzleflash turned only to find the stallion was gone. She'd be impressed if it weren't for the fact that he was fleeing a robbery.
Solid Steel chuckled. “That musta’ been Nightstalker. Only pony I know who can vanish like that. Now I'm real sorry, miss, but I ain't gonna waste my day hunting for him. He'll turn up when he wants to, and I'll be sure to scold him real good, but I wouldn't wait up unless you were plannin’ to stay the night at the inn anyway.”
Dazzleflash simply took up her dinner in her telekinesis and walked out the door. “If that's what you view as doing your job, constable, then you will not be seeing me in this town again.”
She walked down the road hurriedly. Mere moments after she turned the corner out of sight, she faintly heard Carvilia’s boyfriend, Fleeting Light, screaming “you did what?”
A flash of green later, Dazzleflash returned to the recesses of Ocellus’s imagination from whence she came.
Mystic Wish looked at her miles-wide grin and gave her one of his own. “So?”
Ocellus reached her telekinesis into her bags and produced the little toy fish they used to represent the cooking component in game. Wish wrapped Ocellus in a celebratory hug with a cheer.
A few moments in, Ocellus started gently nudging him away. “I appreciate it, but if you keep hugging me I'm going to end up eating too much and feeling sick.”
Wish let got of her. “Sorry, I'm just not used to the idea of being able to hug somepo… someone so much they get physically sick.”
“It's okay. Once I'm done eating, do you have anything in mind for later?”
“Well, tonight is supposed to be another big town fight against the goldies."
"The whats?"
"Oh, uh, the Artificer's Union. We call them that because they're all about gold and the name abbreviates to... well you get it. You want to be a Doom Engine? If they can beat that, they can have the fish back.”
Ocellus nodded in agreement as she crunched a bite of carrots. The two ate in silence as other staff members slowly trickled back in from their own dinners.
The members of the Artificer’s Union trudged up the hill to where the townsfolk had just sat down around a roaring bonfire. Laughter and song echoed down from the firepit.
All that was drowned out in the ears of the union folk, as the terrible machine they brought with them clanked, groaned, and steamed. The wheels on it were under-greased, adding to the din. Soon, the people at the firepit took notice of the noise and sent a pair of ponies to investigate.
The apparent leader of the two, a brown pegasus, spoke first. “Well hey there, folks. Can we help you with oh Tartarus we've got trouble!” The pair of them began to flee in the direction they had come.
“Fireball,” the machine said in a dull monotone. The mare was soon awash in flame and hit the dirt. One of the lesser union members carried her as they continued towards their enemies. The colt next to her met a similar fate, unable to run fast enough before another gout of flame caught him. He too was scooped up like a ragdoll.
As the union members came into the light of the bonfire for the first time, the gathered heroes scrambled to form battle lines both at a safe distance from their foes and the fire. The union boss stepped forward, flanked on one side by the deadly contraption they had brought, and on the other by his flunkies holding their prisoners.
At a signal, the captives were dropped to the ground and blades leveled at their throats. “You know the drill, people. Give us everything gold you've got, and yours go free. That's ingots, Royals, and any miscellaneous stuff made of gold,” the boss said with matter-of-fact confidence.
“Well,” someone said in a tone far too light for their situation, “you seem to have given us a problem. The mare we’d normally have do the negotiations is unconscious with a sword pointed at her! We wouldn't want Solid Steel to wake up and find out we did negotiations without her!”
“Which one first, Arc Lightning?” came a call from the unioners holding onto the hostages.
Arc Lightning turned back to the townsfolk, who were growing increasingly agitated the longer the conversation went. “Solid Steel is the mare, right?”
“Yes?”
He turned back to his subordinates. “The colt! Make the Doom Engine do it!”
The Artificer’s Union all moved up to form a thick line as the other hostage was carried toward the monstrous machine. It leveled one of its many bladed arms at the colt’s chest, lining up the strike. “Death strike one…”
The heroes bolted forward, crashing into the union’s battle line.
“Death strike two…”
While a few low ranking unioners fell, the line held. Those left standing didn't even bother stopping the heroes from death striking their companions. Keeping the enemy at bay was more important.
“Death strike three! I consume your body, become a spirit.” The hapless colt’s body dissipated as his spirit began its forced march towards the Afterlife.
“All fallen union members within the sound of my voice,” the machine called, “I have consumed enough matter. Resurrect!”
The fight that followed was brutal. Without Solid Steel to organize the otherwise unruly mob that was the town, it was every mare for themselves. Pockets of heroes were split off from their flimsy battle formation to be picked off. No one struck a killing blow, for the machine needed only the freshest meat.
Soon, everyone resisting the unit was knocked out and awaiting their demise, save for one small band.
“Fleeting Light, I refuse to believe that you don't have anything left to try here. You know, like, every spell ever!” Carvilia yelled to the colt behind her.
Fleeting Light narrowly dodged a sword swing that would've taken a leg off, and a spell of death glanced off his protective wards. “Well,” he said, stretching the word, “I've got something that could probably bail us out, but it's a one time deal and I'm trying to save it for when we need it.”
“We are literally all going to die if you don't!” A warhammer was narrowly caught by Carvilia’s blades. Seeing an opening, she stepped into her attacker's reach for a devastating flurry. The artificer fell, only for another to step over him and resume the fight. Yet another started dragging the fallen back towards their war machine, then struck him dead so he could be resurrected. Then he began the even grislier task of finding a hero to feed the machine. If he succeeded, the heroes were unquestionably done for.
“But it's really powerful! Powerful enough to kill the Worldwrecker maybe!” The mare guarding their left side caught an acid blast to the flank and collapsed at his side.
“Fleet.” Carvilia ducked under a swing aimed for her neck. “Sweetie.” A flap of her wings brought her narrowly over one aimed for her knee. “If you hold onto this…” An errant swing crippled her wing, bringing her roughly back to earth. “The Worldwrecker is going to win anyway.” A dash forward tricked two artificers into hitting each other. “And I really can't stress this enough…” A crossbow bolt glanced off her pauldron, cracking it. It would need serious repair to ever be anything but dead weight again. “Because we’ll be too dead to stop him!”
Fleeting Light sighed. “You're right. I'm sorry hon.”
“It's okay.”
“Not for holding back, Car. For this. Thunderclap!” Everyone who remained standing, Carvilia included, was knocked several paces away. Fleeting Light took the sudden reprieve as his opportunity to dig into his backpack and pull out a long scroll. Before he spoke again, he applied a quick spell to his throat. He wanted everyone to hear this. Then he began to use the light of his horn to read the words off of the parchment.
“All members of the Artificer’s Union and machines they employ within the sound of my voice…”
The machine had freshly killed another captive. “All fallen union members within the sound of my voice...”
“By the power of the Tree of Fallen Gods…”
“I have consumed enough matter. Resurrect!”
“I obliterate your mind, body, and soul! Become tattered spirits, and pass permanently from this world!”
There was a lull in the battle, as if each combatant was parsing what had just happened to them, before the unioners all fell as one and their foul invention sputtered and ground to a halt, and ultimately collapsed into scrap.
Fleeting Light and Carvilia, not having any medical training to treat the wounded, walked over to the heap of metal. Anyone who wasn't already dead would wake up on their own, anyway. Carvilia was about to touch the remains of the machine, before stopping. “Your kill, your prize.”
He walked up to the rubble, lay a hoof on it, and cautiously stated “I search.” A tiny red fish, surrounded if one looked very closely by a tinge of green magic, floated out of the wreck. Fleeting Light took it up in his own telekinesis, then turned to Carvilia.
“Huh, I guess that bitch was telling the truth about the Fire Trout spawning season. Sorry I yelled at you, Car.”
“I forgive you, Fleet.” She grabbed the colt by the back of his neck, and gave him a quick kiss.
Right as Solid Steel started to wake up. “Oof, I'm guessin’ since I'm alive that we won?” Then she noticed the scene before her and snickered. “Really, you two? You couldn't save the smoochin’ for after we left the corpse field?”
As Ocellus reached the staff building, she transformed back from the squirrel she had masqueraded as to avoid undue attention. Thankfully, no one had asked why the pile of scrap metal had disappeared while they turned away. Outside the side door of the building, two ponies and a griffon waited with sullen looks.
She approached them, tapping her chest twice to signify that she was speaking strictly out of game and out of character. “How are you all holding up?”
Nightstalker, whose real name was Jade Jester, spoke first from the front of the line. “I'm a little nervous. This is the third time I've died. Not sure how many I get.”
Ocellus knew of course, but it would kill the tension to tell him and let that knowledge circulate. Even the more senior players had trouble parsing the systems involved behind the scenes for death. “I hope it goes well.” He'd be fine.
The other two in line gave similar sentiments, and then Ocellus wandered inside the staff building.
Mystic Wish glanced out the window at the line waiting for their encounters with death, then at her. “So I'm guessing the players had a rough time?”
Ocellus shrugged. “We would have gotten everyone, but Fleeting Light had some ridiculous spell that killed us all.”
"That's actually kind of good. We don't want to kill everyone at once." Mystic’s face lit up as he parsed the rest of her sentence. “Did he say something about a tree?”
“Um, some god tree or something, yes.”
Mystic Wish ran over to the costuming bench. “Do you see a forest emissary costume anywhere?” he yelled over his shoulder as he dug through the bins and piles.
A green telekinetic field brought one over to him. “What did Fleet do that you suddenly need a forest emissary?”
“He’s got debts to pay,” Mystic said, his voice muffled by the layers of fabric he pulled over his head.
If Ocellus had pupils, Mystic Wish would've noticed her eyes rolling. “Okay, you're doing a great job with the whole ‘ominous and mysterious’ thing, but I'm not a player. You can tell me.”
Mystic stopped putting on his mask to give her a sheepish grin. “Heh, sorry. So, most players don't realize it, but Fleeting Light has specced hard into dark magic, with his patron as the Tree of Fallen Gods.” He finished putting the mask on. He looked less like a living plant and more like a stallion trying very hard to make you think he was a living plant, but costuming was much harder when you couldn't just turn into any crazy shape you wanted. “Basically, the tree gives him crazy spells, but he only ever gets one at a time, and we come for a chunk of someone's soul if he uses it. What's really interesting is he's running out of pieces of his own soul to sell. Pretty soon he's going to have to start grabbing someone else's.”
Ocellus chuckled. “Think he'll be desperate enough to use Carvilia?”
“That's the goal, isn't it?” Mystic said impishly.
As he walked out the door, Ocellus made her way over to a couch and yawned heavily. She had used a lot of changeling magic today. She'd doubtless wake up feeling refreshed from the love and support of the other staffers (and the players, to a lesser extent), but right now she just needed a nap to digest it all. She couldn't wait to go do some of the late night wandering monster shifts, but it was still only eight. Perfect time for a rest. She closed her eyes, and dreamed of merchant robots with massive beards and a hearty love of battle.
Author's Note
So, this fic is the result of entirely too much LARP activity in my personal life lately. Plot staff for one, player in another, possibly NPCing a third. (At this point more hardcore LARPers than myself will be going "aw... he thinks that's a lot.") Also a desire to write about Ocellus because she's adorable and wonderful.
The combat calls in this game are all made to sound reminiscent of those at the one in which I'm a player, which is a smaller game called Witchwood. If you live in Massachusetts or the southern end of New Hampshire, you should totally give it a look. They're a fantastic group of people, and the game rules are designed to be accessible to new players or people who like lower-complexity games. The word "Bloodbarian" was lifted entirely from them, so clearly these people know what they're doing. This story wasn't specifically written to plug the game, but I figured while I'm here might as well, right?
And lastly, special thanks to Georg and Bugsydor for looking over this thing before posting. I would suggest you go read their stuff, but given their view counts versus mine, odds are you already do if you're deep enough into this site hat you came to me for your horseword fix.
