The Butcher of Gadobhra

The scene was a chaotic one as Ben and his group arrived. Slow-moving people with pale skin and threadbare clothes were stumbling back and forth from a pile of tombstones to eight large wagons. Those wagons had been used to transport the Automatons that were standing, laying, or in piles in front of the ACME building. A man in armor was shouting commands to the laborers who needed constant encouragement. Sensing living souls behind him, Sir Melrose turned and saw the four people walking up to him. The specter stared for a moment and then smiled happily. "By my mother's broken skull, do I have the honor of standing in the presence of Professor Damien Franklin?" He moved forward and offered Damien his hand, ignoring the others, to Vladimir's disgust. Any attention or fame made Damien difficult to deal with for weeks.

Damien beamed and took the proferred hand, seemingly immune to the chilling touch. "You do indeed. A pleasure to meet you, Sir, and happy to find that my fame has not dimmed."

The specter bowed slightly, "Sir Melrose, Knight of the Necropolis, former Warden of Whitecastle, and former member of the Emperor's Guard. I'm not sure about the state of your reputation, Professor Damien, being a little secluded since my death and raising. I recognized you from your wanted posters. They put up new ones in the town square each month where I grew up and I collected them as a boy. I once traded four of your posters for one Cruller the Destroyer wanted poster. I still have that one on the wall of my crypt. I insisted I be buried with it."

Ben attempted to keep a neutral look on his face while Vladimir rolled on the ground, laughing hysterically. Milo was already poking into the innards of the Automaton in worst shape.

Damien's exhaled and the smile left his face. "I was only worth one-quarter of a Cruller? Trust children to be so cruel. At least you seem happy to meet me in the flesh, Sir Melrose. Would you like an autograph?"

The undead knight's smile became more predatory, "Oh, that won't be necessary. It's my pocketbook that is happy. You're still worth a reward of 37,000 gold in some parts of the Empire. Mainly the parts you blew up, which include my family lands near the ruins of Whitecastle."

Ben stepped forward, and Melrose took half a step back, hissing. "Since when did Damien Franklin manage to acquire the protection of a Paladin?"

Damien smirked at the absurd image. Then, horrified, looked at Ben. "Paladin? Say it isn't so!"

Ben shook his head. "It isn't so. In point of fact, I put my sword through the heart of the last Paladin I met. Benjamin Franklin the 7th, last of that name, at your service, Sir Melrose. But unfortunately, also in the service of my Uncle while he is a guest of the Baron of Gadobhra."

Melrose laughed, "Oh, that's encouraging. Did they put a price on your head for that?"

Ben shook his head theatrically and rolled his eyes, "Worse, they Knighted me for the deed and I was offered a place in the Inquisition. Politics is strange, as I'm sure you understand."

"Good to see that things haven't changed in the Capital. Well, then, we should be addressing you as Sir Benjamin. Congratulations on getting your spurs. And since your Uncle is under the protection of the Baron, I'll leave off the jokes about collecting the bounty upon his head. I was dead when he destroyed Whitecastle and the family disowned me when I took service with Lord Valgurius, so I'm not terribly driven to avenge them."

Vladimir was curious, as always. "What the hell did you do to those people, Damien?"

The older Franklin rolled his eyes dramatically. "What they hired me to do! The family only had a small army of fifty soldiers but had designs on their neighbor's lands. They wanted their soldiers to be 'The Best of the Best' and I sold them a series of vitamin and steroid injections along with suggesting an intense regime of physical training and a diet of red meat to build muscle and stamina. And I was successful! I had plans for a series of mana infusions, but they proved unnecessary. Those men grew four inches in a month and increased their STR and CON by seven points each. It was a phenomenally successful experiment. Not my fault they withheld vital information from me!"

"What information was that?"

Sir Melrose looked uncomfortable. "You have to understand...my people were from the hill tribes and even twenty generations later, many of the lower classes still venerated Asena, the Wolf Mother, from which the ancient chiefs were descended. And chiefs being what they were, they spread their seed far and wide. Everyone in the valley was descended from at least one of them. Damien's...enhancements...seemed to trigger something inside the soldiers."

Vladimir started laughing again, pointing at Damien and barely able to draw a breath. "Your vitamins turned them all into Werewolves?! Oh, that's fantastic! I'm sure you set science back another hundred years with that stunt! All that work and you could only re-create a small curse every Hedgewitch knows."

"Dammit, those weren't just werewolves! They were healthy and genetically superior werewolves. Very handsome during daylight as well. Don't blame me that each one had a half dozen peasant girls pregnant within a fortnight. And I don't see what I did as a failure. They asked for super-soldiers so they could conquer the surrounding area. The packs that roam the woods around the ruins of Whitecastle conquered everything within a hundred miles."

He drew himself up and puffed out his chest. "If you don't want science to create Super-Soldiers, then don't ask science to create Super-Soldiers." Those around him, even Sir Melrose, agreed with the wisdom of that statement.

Ben looked at the broken and battered automatons. "You seem to have a problem with your delivery service. I'm sure the Baron was expecting these whole and not a junkyard of parts."

The specter looked stricken and glanced at the half-full wagons. "Truthfully, I was embarrassed by that and tempted to load up and leave. But Lord Valgurius has more deals pending with Baron William, and we need more of these ravenous troops in the Necropolis. It pains me greatly to leave these here in pieces. I don't suppose...." He stopped, afraid to say the next words.

Damien took a step closer and whispered in his ear, "Ask nicely, and sincerely. Put your heart into it."

Sir Melrose thought it over for a half minute, then gathered his courage and slowly spoke in a loud voice, "I ask science to repair these automatons to a state that will please Baron William."

Damien turned to the others. "You heard the nice man. He needs science to fix his problem. Let's get to work."

With a project of this size in front of them, differences were put aside and resources were shared. Damien pulled a small pouch from a pocket, pulled a sack from the pouch, and seventeen satchels from the sack. Each one produced a large pile of treasures, tools, and junk. All of the parts from the destroyed machinery of the tower were in them, along with an assortment of tools, forgotten side projects, plans for world domination, and overdue library books kept for their interesting technical articles. Ben produced from his ring several of Damien's books from his library, and his small cache of magi-tech components. Milo snapped his figures and his huge crate appeared. From it, he took hundreds of feet of fine copper wire, tools, small crystals, and a bag of Silverite nuggets. With glowing eyes and jittery brains, they began working.

Vladimir was depressed, seeing the others produce riches he no longer owned, and cursed the years lost in captivity. Milo saw his unease and took him aside. "Each person contributes what they can to the project, be that materials, ideas, or sweat and elbow grease. The whole is greater than the sum of the parts. The same holds true for Guilds and Hollows, and even ourselves. How we got here might be unorthodox with scraps of knowledge and informal training, but we each have value and add to that of our comrades."

Vladimir still looked depressed, "Some people will disagree with that theory. I don't believe that either side of my family will ever think that of me."

"Then 'Some People' need a hard knock with a wrench upside their heads to realign their thinking. Who cares what those people think? If they don't see your value, that's their loss. I see an Engineer who can view a problem from different perspectives at the same time, and who created a beautiful and efficient runic alphabet. You should have had a gold spanner for your work ages ago, but since other people are idiots and can't see your value, please take mine. Welcome to the Deep Rock Engineering Guild, Senior Engineer Vladimir TwoSouls."

His quick fingers grabbed the silver spanner on Vladimir's belt and replaced it with his battered gold spanner. Vladimir was too astounded to say a word. Milo pointed at the battered automatons, "Now, Senior Engineer, let's get to work. I want to see what makes these things tick!"

Damien watched the exchange and saw his friend shake off his habitual gloom and gain confidence. Damien was used to working alone but was seeing the benefits of having competent and insane people around him. "What do you think Benjamin? Is the Baron truly willing to harbor rogues like I and Vladimir?"

Ben gestured to the hundreds of ruined stone buildings that made up the bulk of the city and the small castles and villas that ringed its outer perimeter. "He has the space to hide a battalion of loonies. Some are even getting a new college. And like most nobles, he has a fixation on the gold in his coffers. Keep that in mind when you deal with him. If you can contribute to his profitability, he'll see you as an asset. But if I may make a suggestion?"

"Certainly. Go on."

"Maybe something small and unassuming above ground with a large hidden laboratory? Sedgewick has catacombs below it that go down for many levels. I can only assume that Gadobhra is much worse. The Baron needs a teleport stone here in Gadobhra. A little real estate and turning a blind eye to certain people will be a small price for him to pay. And if shit does hit the fan, I suggest asking for Political Asylum. You might also use those crazed academics as camouflage. Easy to blend into the background if everyone around you is odd."

"Interesting ideas. Do you think that would stop Harmonia?"

Ben snorted loudly. "If Harmonia comes looking for you, I think you should either go hide in the bottom of a Dungeon like the Pit or buy a ticket to the Smoke."

"Hmm, you're probably right. But I think I'll take my chances here for the time being." Damien looked around the city, smiling. There was a lot of madness here, waiting to be unleashed.

Meanwhile, ten miles away, Rowan Keep had visitors as soon as the teleportation stone was tested. Ozzy had voiced his worries about what might happen to the first person traveling from the Gadobhra side and volunteered for the job. "Some of those mages have itchy trigger fingers." It wasn't long after the Butcher and his wagon disappeared that the first group of soldiers appeared with General Themis leading them. All of the two dozen soldiers wore shoulder patches declaring them to be Honored Veterans, with the wounds and scars to show how they'd earned that status.

Every soldier in the courtyard saluted, and after answering their salute with one of her own, she yelled out. "At ease, gentlemen. We've got a lot of people coming through. Let's make them comfortable first and I'll hold off my review of this fortress for after. I have it on good authority that I'll be impressed."

Centurion Marcus stepped forward. "I have all of my decurions ready to assist with moving your men to their new quarters, general. Our priests let us know that Lord Ares requested quarters prepared for our veterans. We're working on that now. The Baron has sent us several of his wood wrights to construct beds and furniture for them. If you will have other troops on the way, we'll find them quarters immediately. It will help if we know how many and for how long you plan to stay."

"I appreciate the optimism, Centurion, but I know damned well these things take time. As for how long, well, that is going to be up to the Emperor. He wants me here for now, but only he knows about tomorrow. As for troops, find space for a full phalanx of sixty-four trained troops along with junior officers and support. I have a newly advanced Centurion heading this way as well."

Marcus nodded, keeping emotion off of his face. "I see."

"No, you don't see. Not with that face. I'm not sending him here to take your job, Marcus. I'm sending them here for you to beat the stiffness out of them and teach them what they need to know to take command somewhere else. Specifically, somewhere else where things are screwed up badly. I want you to train them hard and if a nasty situation pops up, toss them in the middle of it. God knows this area has enough of those. And get used to training snot-nosed officers. As soon as you get one finished, we'll ship them out and send you another. Ride them hard. This fortress can house triple the soldiers of your old one, and that means we need more officers. I've got a Winter War to deal with, and I don't like the noise I'm hearing from down south. We may be hip-deep in orcs soon. As for you, well, you've outgrown your rank and this is much too large a fortress for a mere Centurion." She raised her voice, and it echoed through the fortress.

"Centurion Marcus Abraitus, your service in the Emperor's Legion has been noted. From this day forth you hold the rank of Prefect."

She handed him a golden emblem to place on his helmet. "We'll have a fancy ceremony later, but I need you in here and in command of this fortress. Welcome to less sleep and twice the work, Prefect Marcus."