5.1 - Tainted Soil

5.1 - Tainted Soil

Waves lapped gently against the white marble pier below. Seabirds flitted overhead, joining their calls with the lapping waves. The salty scent of the ocean wafted with gusts from the bay. Sitting atop one of two towers, Theo Spencer looked out over the endless sprawl of water. It was only segmented by the chains of barrier islands, breaking some of the open oceans worst offerings. While the little port saw little traffic, a merchants ship was visible on the horizon. Flying the colors of Partopour.

Angry calls from the birds above signaled Alexs sentinel position among the clouds. The goose had taken the sky like a goose. Unsurprised, but still worried like a mother hen, he pushed off the wall. Breathing one last breath of the sea-driven air, the alchemist descended from the tower. Fishes of all kinds held near the pier. They pecked at the edge of barnacles and plant life, searching for food around the structure. Looking out along the long track of hewn marble, it was hard not to appreciate how many things had changed.

The Southlands Alliance was strong. What they lacked in manpower was made up for with weaponry. All three towns in the alliance were heavy with defensive weapons, all of which were magical. System-generated towers that could hold back waves of monsters, and artificer-built rail guns that delivered withering payloads. As ever, the walls of Broken Tusk held firm. Within those walls were an amalgam of peoples. Cat-folk from the Khahari Desert to the west. Elves from the solitary nation of Tarantham. Native Bantari and half-ogres, along with lizard-folk from the south and full-blooded ogres from the west.

And humans. One of the most curious races on Iaredin was the only race from Theos home world on Earth. The histories of this place were unclear on their arrival. They were soft, compared to the half-ogres. But more even-tempered than the marshlings. But ones origin hardly mattered in the alliance. Sweat was the bread of the land, and merit was her butter. All were welcomed into the expanding alliance.

So long as they signed the contract.

Theo worked a lazy path over the pier, then into the harbor. He looked up at the weapons on the walls, then over to the shipwrights constructing the towns future. It was the twenty-third day of the Season of Fire. A red letter day for any wishing to trade with foreign parties. The harbor would soon become crowded with folks looking to buy exotic goods. So the alchemist made his way out of the harbor. As far away from the bustle as possible.

Let the administrators handle it, he told himself, ducking through the eastern gate.

Azrugs newest venture was visible from there. A large barn that sat to the north of the ranch. What a shame it would see little use after introducing the maglev train. The same train that he planned on sending over the ocean to the south. As always, Theo bit off more than he or his people could chew. But thats the way they liked it.

Most people in town didnt know why the undead scourge had broken off their assault. They were unaware of the secret war Fenian Feintleaf had fought against the king of Qavell. They were equally unaware of that kings death, and the shifting of power that moved in the heavens. That thought sent a shiver down his spine, but he pushed through. The undead had left behind a taint on the land. The northernmost town in the alliance, Gronro-Dir, was contending with a plague.

The little bell above the door at the Newt and Demon rang. Theo stepped into the first floor, which was a shop, and waved to his assistant. Salire had known to leave him to his machinations. She nodded politely, then went back to counting her money. Since the representatives from Gronro had brought a sample of the soil, she hadnt wanted to go to the third floor. If the alchemist was honest with himself, he didnt want to.

Alright. Theo let his thoughts trail off, cracking the windows and organizing the lab. Rows of alchemy equipment, mostly large distillation stills, crowded the space. But in the corner, there was a single clay jar. Filled with dirt.

The shadows stirred near the rooms corner. A powerful frame emerged from the gloom, materializing to reveal the half-ogre Rowan. He rolled his shoulders, then pulled up a chair.

Back to it, then.

Indeed.

Even being near the soil put Theos stomach into knots. The ventilation hoods above head clicked on automatically as he cracked the jar, releasing the necromantic foulness into the lab. It burned their lungs and sent their stomachs churning. But the work needed to be done. The alchemist had only been working on the problem for a day, but he learned quite a lot.

Lets review

Rowan had proven to be a font of knowledge with all things necromancy. It was odd to consider at first. But his patron was the ogre god Baelthar. Ogres were known for one thing. Chaos.

Theo cleared his throat and went over what they knew. Power permeated every corner of the world. It was the raw form of energy that was typically linked with a patron god. In Broken Tusk, the realms of Terogal and Grodulharak were king. Those two realms belonged to Theo and Tresk, and Drogramath. Everything within the area was soaked in that power. From the rocks, to the dungeons. It all had the scent of those two realms on it. When the undead moved from their resting place in Gardreth, they had brought with them the stain of Balkor. The taint of Hoich.

Power didnt dissipate quickly, though. And the energy that soaked into the lands was not strictly raw power. It was processed, then crapped out by the rolling hordes of the undead. When raw [Refined Hallow Ground Essence] was dripped onto the soil, it reacted. Only slightly, but it was noticeable. Theo performed a demonstration on an isolated sample. Both men nodded, already knowing the effects.

Sarisa is working with Zarali and Xolsa on the problem, Rowan said. His complexion looked more green than red today. Theo imagined his own face looked similarly putrid. No progress.

Theo returned the lid to the clay jar, swallowing hard. He had tried to take it into his inventory, but that only made the effects worse. Not even a Priest of Spit can banish it. I imagine even Glantheirs followers would have trouble.

Rowan grunted a response, tapping his finger on a length of parchment. It contained all the effects that Theo could craft into potions. The problem was, all the anti-undead [Hallow Ground] potions destroyed undead. Not what they left behind. He jabbed his finger into the parchment. What about this one?

Theo didnt have a chance to respond. His Wisdom of the Soul ability popped.

Both Xolsa and Zarali sprung up, shocked expressions on their faces. No! All the good stuff is going to be gone!

Without another word, they darted off. Rowan remained where he was, shifting the illusory tie around his neck. Theyre too high-energy lately, he said.

Agreed. Well break for now. I need some time with my thoughts.

Rowan just nodded, then rose from his chair. He descended the stairs at a leisurely pace, then through the portal. Theo was left among the trappings of a wizard. Alchemy equipment, magical devices, and curios of all sorts littered the tower. While there were adventurers who passed through this place often, there was never a risk of theft. Not with those handy contracts in place. Although the town had grown to over five-hundred people, it was still small enough that everyone knew everyone.

Theo climbed to the roof of the tower, looking out over the [Swamp Dungeon] in the distance. He smiled as he saw adventurers training in the swamp. They fought with giant turtles, goblins, and wolves. He was reminded of the gristly wolf meat stew he enjoyed when he first arrived in town. The way the flavors did nothing to mingle together brought a strange sense of nostalgia. He left the tower, walking the streets of his town.

Mudball Fundamental was fuller than it had ever been. Children played in the yard. The operator, Bob, had organized the children into a hierarchy. The older ones managed the younger ones. Chaos was the result. Theo smiled as he watched the children battle each other with sticks. Mud was tossed at every opportunity. Broglings were small, but when needed Bob whipped the kids into shape. Mostly through verbal warnings, which always carried an undertone of malice. His instruction was borne from the patron Zaul, a shadowy figure in the Prime Pantheon.

A moment of your time. A voice came from behind Theo, carrying with it the warm sands of the Khahari.

The alchemist spun, finding one of their cat-person residents, Zankir, grinning a fanged grin. Whats up? Care for a walk?

A walk would be lovely.

They headed off, onto the main road that headed north. Before the Khahari said anything, they were passing by the sprawling neighborhoods of the town. Every day, there were more houses that popped up there. All to prepare for the good ship Wavecrest to return.

I was speaking with the commander about this, Zankir started. Theo had never seen him choose his words so carefully. He sent me to ask you.

So, ask.

North of the sprawling, crowded neighborhood were the homes of adventurers. Tresk had named it Stabby Groves, and no one seemed to want to change it. The cluster of buildings along the road had grown over the days, but not by much. Folks wanted to live crowded together, not on the fringes. Quick access to the shops and services was likely the cause.

I want to form a new unit, Zankir said after a while. And I want to be the commander of the unit.

What would this unit do?

They would manage the automated and manually fired weapons of the alliance. There is a hole in your strategy, archduke. You cannot leave this matter to the administration. They do not understand combat.

That was true. Alise and her people often stepped on the toes of the military. Good idea. You need to come up with a good name, though.

Sandscourge Company, Zankir said instantly. He had been thinking about that for a while.

Ding! Good name. Theo laughed, patting the man on the shoulder. Where do you sit in the command chain?

Just under Aarok.

That was fine. The more weapons they made to defend themselves, the harder it was to keep track of everything. Theo had learned early that he should defer to professionals. Since Zankir was a double-agent for Khahar, he must have been good at managing things. He also had a kid, which meant he was used to dealing with short-tempered folk like the half-ogres. Because half-ogres could often act like children.

They ironed out the details of the position as they walked through the town. Up the slow rise toward the quarry, then back again through Stabby Groves. Over the farmers hill, and back into the town proper. Theo created a new lord position, and made the Khahari sign another contract. By the end, Zankir was now the Lord Commander of the Sandscourge Company. As expected, he got to work right away. Darting off like an excited child with a new toy.

Now, Theo said, cracking his knuckles. Time for some serious alchemy.