You are Summoned

“Rico, wake up, the war council is about to start. Are you hungry?” Lumpy asked. He’d sort of taken me under his wing and helped get me sorted, for which I was grateful.

Normally, during a summoning, I didn’t need to eat, sleep, or use the bathroom. On one of these extended summoning deals, I had to do all three. Back in Rico’s Place, all my bodily needs and functions were put on hold, but that wasn’t the case here. I can also attest to the fact that gnomish toilets left a lot to be desired.

As far as food went, the gnomish cooking wasn’t bad at all. Earlier, I had a sandwich of thin sliced beef, cheese, lettuce, and a tomato-like vegetable they grew at the village. Everything was well prepared and filling, with Lumpy and I choosing to eat outside of the cave for a respite from the heat and noise of the place. At some point after eating, I had fallen asleep and Lumpy must have let me get some rest while I could.

“I’m up, where’s the meeting happening?” I asked.

“Inside the war room,” Lumpy said, pointing deeper into the cavern.

I let him lead the way, noting that more of the gnomish soldiers were posted as guards the closer we got to the war room. The soldiers must have been expecting me as they gave me no more than a cursory glance. Despite many of them being from different villages, the gnomish soldiers seemed to have a surprisingly uniform appearance.

Each soldier wore a chainmail hauberk with a conical steel helm. Most had a wooden spear with a leaf-bladed metal tip. For other weapons, it was the gnome’s personal choice. There were shortswords, axes, and a few war hammers among the mix. A few even had crossbows strapped across their backs, giving their forces some ranged firepower.

The gnomes were small, about four feet tall, and tended toward a slim build. Despite that, the soldiers all seemed to be in good physical shape, as had all the workers I’d run across. At the end of a well-lit passageway, I could see a stone door that was slightly ajar. A double handful of soldiers guarded the door, which was where the war council would meet.

After barely squeezing through the gap in the door, I was greeted with a horseshoe shaped table that was nearly full of a collection of gnomish soldiers, mages, and tradesmen. There was a human-sized chair that I was offered, and I was guided to a place between Fitzfazzle and Lumpy. The gnomes must have hosted human-sized visitors in the past as a small section of the table was raised higher than the rest to accommodate my larger size.

“Let’s get this meeting underway,” Master Fazzlemore said. The mage pointed toward a large map that was hung near the table. None of the gnomes got up to inspect it, but that was most likely because they were already familiar with the area around them rather than any negligence on their part. Fazzlemore looked at me and motioned me forward for a better look. I felt a bit self-conscious standing up in front of the whole group, especially given my size.

I could see where the village and cave complex were marked on the map, right up against the mountain range. To the north, the forest extended for some distance before meeting with flat plains and eventually, a swampy area. Past the swamp, there were more open plains and a few hilly areas before the map ended.

To the south, on the other side of the mountain range, were five other gnomish villages, which is where our reinforcements must have come from. I always liked looking at maps, but Fazzlemore was continuing with his update, and I didn’t want to miss any of it, so I returned to my seat.

“We’ve fought off the undead army, and the scouts are clearing out a few confused undead that are still blithering about, lost in the forest. Our guest and ally, Rico, was able to overhear a conversation between the leader of these undead, a mage named Pharox, and his acolytes. He referred to a crypt as his destination, and that is likely the place where the undead menace originated from,” Fazzlemore said.

“There’s lots of forgotten crypts out there, have you narrowed it down Master Fazzlemore?” Fitzfazzle asked.

“Yes, between myself and the other mages, scrying spells were used to locate any clusters of necromantic magic. It turns out that our opponent was smart enough to mask his presence. He may have masked his presence, but in doing so, he has unwittingly revealed himself.

“As many of you know, every older abandoned crypt and graveyard carries some taint of death magic and necromancy about it. Without constant sanctification of the ground by priests, necromantic energy will begin to naturally build up.”

Fazzlemore paused to point at a spot on the map. It was past the large forest and northeast of where we were. The map indicated the ruins of an old city, and a single black hashmark next to it. It was right on the edge of the swamplands, but I had no real measure of how far this location was from the village.

“Right here, is where we believe this necromancer is holed up,” Fazzlemore said, circling the area with his finger.

“Our scouts noted the ruins of a city and the massive crypt nearby years ago. They also noted the presence of several minor undead creatures as you can see notated by the black mark. When we searched for necromantic magic in that area with our scrying, there was none. Even if there was no threat there, we should have sensed something coming from the ruins.

“The fact that we could sense nothing at all leads me to believe that our foe is here, in these ruins. By masking the scent of his foul magics, he inadvertently gives us his location. That is where we will strike,” Fazzlemore said with confidence.

“But what if the absence of necromantic magic is a ruse to lure us away from the village?” Fitzfazzle asked.

“A good question, and while I don’t believe that’s the case, we will be forced to leave behind some forces to protect the village on the off chance that is just an elaborate ruse. As for what forces stay behind and which ones will lead the assault, I leave that up to our military leaders,” Fazzlemore said. One of the gnomes, a rather burly specimen in polished chainmail, stood to address the group.

“While we had losses during the last battle, they weren’t as bad as we feared. I propose we take eight of the ten infantry companies, supported by as many MESS’s as we can get up and running before our departure time. The two companies can remain in the village to hold off any attack and send word for us to return if there is a threat nearby.

“A few of the rangers will stay behind to assist the local hunters in keeping watch for any enemy approaching. Of the nineteen mages remaining, fifteen will go with the army,” the gnome, whose name he didn’t offer, said.

“Speed should be of the essence,” Fazzlemore said as he stood. “This Pharox and any other necromancers that support him will most likely be rebuilding their forces and replacing their losses. The process should take some time, and while the losses in the fight against our village will have depleted their supply of corpses, they will recover their numbers eventually,” Fazzlemore advised.

“Master Fazzlemore, how long would it take a few necromancers to replace the losses we inflicted on them?” Lumpy asked.

“Several weeks to a month, less if the master necromancer is as skilled as I believe this one to be. The journey to the crypt will not be an easy one, and we all know the forest has dangers of its own. Given the difficulty of the journey, I estimate it will take the attacking force a week, maybe even ten days to reach the ruins. To dally here any longer than necessary is to invite disaster. Lumpy, how many mechs can you have ready in three days?” Fazzlemore asked.

“We’re halfway through with one of the new designs, and the second can be completed by then. I’ll also have Fitzfazzle’s MESS repaired by then, but Rico’s is a write-off. I can salvage some parts and smelt the rest down for raw materials. So, in three days, I can have two of what I’m going to call the Big MESS, and five of the first generation ready to go. That all depends, of course, on how much magic support I can get,” Lumpy offered.

“You’ll have full mage support, but have we identified enough trained pilots for the new MESS type?” Fazzlemore asked.

“Yes, we have more than enough pilots since we didn’t lose a single one in the battle. The first Big MESS is being designed for Rico here, he did very well in the battle, and with the changes we’re making, I’m expecting these new models to carve through the dead with little trouble. Just give me enough mages to keep them and their weapons charged, and we’re good to go,” Lumpy replied.

“Who will have the honor of piloting the second Big MESS?” Fitzfazzle said, almost drooling over the chance of getting a crack at the new machine.

“That one is for me, it’s high time I took one of these out on a true combat trial,” Lumpy said, much to Fitzfazzle’s disappointment.

“Fine, I’ll take my old MESS back, as long as you fix her up right, though I have a few personal modifications I want to make,” Fitzfazzle said.

“You are my most powerful student, Fitzfazzle, and you will not only pilot a MESS, but you’ll also lead the mage contingent of the expedition. Warmaster Glumbleflump will be in overall command, and I expect you to support him to the best of your ability. Sadly, my days of campaigning are over, so I will remain behind to help organize things here,” Fazzlemore said.

“I’m honored to lead our combined forces, and I welcome Fitzfazzle’s counsel. His skill as a mage, and a warrior, is well known,” the gnome in polished chainmail, who must have been Glumbleflump, said.

“Then it’s decided. In three days, the gnomes go to war!” Fazzlemore proclaimed.