LIGHTNOVELONLINE Chapter 9 Mission #3 Rescue Livestock
Wilson Turk
Name
Wilson Turk
Nickname
?
Race/Nationality
Gnome
Age
50
Daily Wage
7 pence
Action Stats
EXP Level
3
Action Points
4
Hit Points
20
Core Stats
Might
14
Agility
5
Grit
3
Intellect
10
Skills
Ambidextrous, axe (proficient)
Equipment
Weapons
Hand axe (damage 3-18), Hand axe (damage 3-18)
Armour
Breastplate
Other
Wilson approached the Harris’s farmstead at night. His gnomish eyesight gave him an advantage over his adversaries. He doubted the defenders Aiden mentioned spent all night in the fields on the off chance rustlers appeared. No. Quick and efficient, and I can reclaim the herd without too much trouble.
He clambered over an unnecessarily high gate into a field of cattle. His eyesight allowed him to avoid the many cowpats. One misstep on a wet one, and the top of his boots would be breached.
The cows were laid out on the grass. It made them slightly less intimidating. But still, the size differential between a cow and a gnome was significant.
Wilson approached a group of four, moving slowly and quietly. The nearest got to her feet, mooing indignantly, and her friends stood.
‘It’s alright, girl,’ Wilson reassured her. ‘Let me take a look at you.’
The cow had been branded with a filled circle. It was therefore impossible to know for sure whether she was one of Aiden’s herd. ‘Cunning bastards,’ Wilson muttered.
If he couldn’t locate the herd for sure, he’d have to do the next best thing—lead sixty-two cattle back to Aiden’s farm, and call it a fair settlement.
Rounding up the beasts was more challenging than Wilson had anticipated. His height was a real disadvantage. The stupid bovines paid little attention to him, apart from wandering away when he got near. He had a rope. After several attempts, he got it around a cow’s neck. When he led it towards the gate, none of the others followed.
‘Damn it to Gehenna!’ he shouted, losing his temper.
His one prize jerked away at this outburst. Struggling to drag it back, Wilson was pulled through a cowpat.
‘Oh, that’s great! Just fucking great! Thanks for your gods damned help while I try to rescue you!’
‘What in Gal’azu do we have here?’
Wilson let go of the rope. At least four of them had crept up on him unawares. A lot of things could have run through his mind at that point. But he was a professional. The only correct option was to attack.
ACTION ROUND
Cattle Rustler
Human
Rustler
Action Stats
EXP Level
2
Action Points
4
Hit Points
18
Three and a half feet of gnome swung into action. Wilson used his first action point to advance on the rustler to his right. His axes swung. Both blades hit home, cutting through his enemy’s hide armour. Eight damage. Followed by thirteen. The bastard hadn’t stood a chance, slumping to the ground. Dead. The gnome moved against his next opponent. With his last action point, he let fly. His first strike was blocked by the man’s cudgel, but the second struck his arm. The rustler took seven points of damage, shrieking in pain.
Now it was the rustlers’ turn. The cudgels fell. Hit. Miss. Hit. Hit. Miss. Four damage. Another four. Again, four. Just like that, he’d been knocked down to eight hit points.
‘Wait!’ one said. ‘Let’s have some fun before we finish him. It’s what Billy would have wanted.’
Wilson felt woozy. One axe had been knocked from his right hand, but he still held the other.
‘Alright,’ said the injured rustler. ‘But I get to kill him.’ He struck at Wilson, but the blow rang off his breastplate, causing no further damage.
A final blow from behind caught Wilson on the shoulder. His hit points fell to seven.
The injured rustler had one more action point. He aimed low, the cudgel cracking against Wilson’s knees. Three damage and Wilson was grounded, barely conscious.
He retained enough sense to notice being lifted from the grass.
‘What are we going to do with the little fucker?’
Wilson didn’t hear the reply, on account of a ringing in his ears. But he heard the gales of laughter that followed. They weren’t reassuring.
He was carried towards the rear end of a cow. And they didn’t stop. His head penetrated the cow’s rectum. It was warm inside. Not as smelly as one might have thought. On the negative side, he couldn’t breathe. Of all the indignities Wilson had suffered in life, this had to be in the top ten.
He was withdrawn, and dropped onto the ground. The breach encouraged the cow to empty its bowels, much of which landed on Wilson’s head, to the delight of his tormentors.
Wilson Turk had not inherited many typical gnome characteristics. He was born without magic. He was not jolly, or playful. He took no pleasure from tinkering with objects, or making things. But he was, when it was needed, fucking fast.
Wilson got to his feet and sprinted away, making for the murkiness of the hedge that ran along one side of the field.
With a cry, the three rustlers gave chase. They had longer legs. More stamina, too—Wilson only had a puny one action point per turn left, after they had beaten him into the ground. Every bone and muscle in his body ached. He knew he had to escape fast, or he was a goner.
He burrowed into the hedge on hands and knees, ignoring the scratches of thorns. He feared a hand on his ankle, dragging him out.
‘Where is he?’ came a shout, and he dared to hope. He felt the hedge shake as it was struck with cudgels. He kept burrowing, until he had crawled out of the field. Back on his feet, he ran for it. The pink haze of the mission zone appeared before him.
He’d failed, of course. He’d lost both his weapons. But he’d not lost his life.
He passed through the zone and was struck with the unique heady sense of relief one gets after escaping death.
But the exhilaration was short-lived. With the pain of his injuries returning, Wilson turned to the south-east. He had a long walk back to Avolo ahead of him. Not to mention the humiliation that was waiting for him.
MISSION COMPLETE
FAILURE: The livestock were not rescued
None of your mercs improved their stats
No mercs levelled up