Born a Monster

Chapter 45: Born A Monster, Chapter 45 – Medicinorn A Monstehapter 45

Medicinn a guild, having the day off doesn’t mean you actually have the whole day to yourself. Not knowing when I’d be back meant that I’d need to launder my bedsheets. But, to make it to that time, I had to do my “exercises” in the practice yard, and then cold mush for breakfast.

Due to the lack of guardsmen to bash me around with clubs, I got to realize the dangers of letting novices do that. They didn’t use the clubs like swords, or like clubs. They used them like stonemason’s mauls.

My poor shield, three white knives on a field of pale blue, lacked the heraldry of the guild’s crossed black spears on a white background. And the logo “Worth Every Tin”. They enjoyed bashing upon it, and targeted my limbs.

One lout in particular, Gunther, took a swing at the back of my head. Fortunately, it was one of those ponderous double-handed things, easily avoided. The force of the swing drew him off balance, and I took a blow to the stomach avoiding the collision.

.....

Then Gunther was in the center of the circle, and was “accidentally” hit. He insisted his right wrist was broken, but Sandru called it a sprain, and he was able to suffer through breakfast with us.

Breakfast was boiled flour and vegetables, topped with a mottled piece of ham. Honestly, I wonder if Uloned was trying to slowly build up our resistance to food-borne diseases. Nobody puked or fell ill where I could see them, it must have been working.

Although there may not have been guardsmen, and the roustabouts had their duties down at the river docks, there were enough others to monopolize the buckets for retrieving water. Rather than compete, I went and got myself a decent breakfast omelet, strip of mutton, and spiced tea. Double the nutrition, same price – how did Uloned even keep his job?

Then, since there were still no buckets, I went to the supply room.

"Tangars.”

"Destroyer of equipment.”

"Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. What gear can I purchase through the Guild?”

"What, you mean to destroy your own gear?”

"That’s exactly what I mean, yes. In spite of my best intentions, the gear just gets destroyed.”

"What’s your budget?”

"Seven tin coins.”

"Not much I have costs less than copper.”

"The marketplace disagrees.”

"Well, buy your gear from the market, then.”

"Thank you for your permission, quartermaster. I shall do that.”

"Right. I’ll have your draw ready when you come whimpering back.”

I’m sure he meant well. After all, even the cheapest of backpacks was two copper, and if you wanted a quality backpack, you could go to three times that much.

But two good burlap sacks were a tin, and the long fabric straps used to pad oxen harnesses weren’t much more.

The spare linen fabric and thread were the bulk of that cost. While my laundry dried, I painstakingly wove the various cloth pieces together into a vaguely backpack-like shape.

After making my bed, I took a short trek down to the cul-de-sac that housed Narrow Valley’s weapon smiths. The cost of a short spear with a hunter’s crossbar removed my life’s savings, and just learning to maintain it properly took a good twenty minutes or so.

So my kit was minimal, but I would no longer be paying the guild a copper or so every time I got hired as a guardsman. I had been hoping to commission a suit of gambeson to my size, but that was beyond my budget.

Before returning to the guild for dinner, I spent my remaining coins on a decent dinner and two loaves of fresh bread. I was glad that I had; stewed vegetables slopped over two crusts of dried bread awaited me at the guild.

Black Snake actually held around for language training that night. An hour, two at most before “stuff” distracted her.

"She still creeps me out.” Simon said.

"She doesn’t even have a Might score yet. She literally cannot hurt you.”

"Does she want to?”

"I don’t think she wants to hurt anyone. Well, there’s another spirit she doesn’t like.”

"Okay, good night.”

"Good night.”

#

The cart left before breakfast, and we actually stopped north of town at the Mestios farm. One of our drovers was a cousin to that family, and we got large omelets with chicken and small black berries. Milk may have been an acquired taste for some, but growing shapeshifters like me needed all the Dairy we could get.

They seemed happy to provide the meal, and I had no issue with the Guild paying for it, even if it were coming out of my wages.

We joined the soldiers deployed just in time to help with dinner. The first third of that went to the healer’s tents, each of which held four of the worst poisoned. The other three had to make do with cots under a lean-to.

"Rhiziz!” called one of the medics.

"Rhishisikk. How can I assist you, Kamios?”

"You are an excellent forager.”

"Okay. What do you need foraged?”

"I mean, a really great forager.”

"What do you need?”

"You can probably find what we need, easy.”

"Kamios! I haven’t eaten yet. Tell me what you need, or I’ll just come back after dinner.”

"What? Oh, I need henbane, garlic, and mistletoe.”

"What is mistletoe?”

He described it.

"Ah. I know the flower. What portions of each do you need?”

I handed over the two garlic buds from my pack, and went out to forage. It had been a while since I’d adapted my eyes into those of a goblin, but the low light vision was helpful.

There were spiders about, but they weren’t targeting me specifically, and had no interest in the herbs I was gathering. I didn’t dare take time to infuse them, and had to use the spear carefully to harvest the mistletoe, but I only gained the one combat XP while harvesting them.

"I found everything you needed.”

"How are your energy levels?”

"Fading with every unannounced task. What do you need?”

They needed the mistletoe imbued, which is a much more inefficient use of mana if not done while harvesting. They needed the henbane brewed into tea, also to be imbued, while the garlic was ground into an imbued powder.

"Given my choice, I’ll make the tea.”

"Great, can you grind the garlic while doing that?”

"No, I don’t have multiple imbue channels open. Aren’t there two medics, one for each tent?”

"Mashienn went out for herbs earlier today and hasn’t come back yet.”

I blinked. “Did she go with a guard?”

"She said she didn’t need one.”

"When was a search done?”

"Well -”

Much as it may be difficult to mobilize mercenaries to search a wooded area at night for one of their own, it was easy to get them organized to search for Mashienn.

We found her at the base of a ravine with a broken leg. From the way she cussed and fussed and threatened to claw eyes out, she seemed otherwise alive.

#

The next morning, the cart moved out with over half our wounded, and we prepared the anti-toxin infusions. There were only six of them, and each needed to be mixed in its own glass phial, but by the time the first casualties came in, they were ready.

The next day, I was ready to go out with the soldiers.

"Where is your armor?” Gemina asked.

I pulled on my flesh. “Scales.”

"Not on my watch. Back to the healer’s tent with you. You get to help Mashienn.”

Sigh. Well, two coppers a day may not be silver, but it was a good deal more than I could make carrying a torch. Mashienn walked me through an inventory, told me to go harvest all the garlic I had found last night, and did the bandage treatments herself.

With nothing else to do, Mashienn used her tongue to lash out at me. I was too slow, too clumsy, I wasn’t paying attention. Honestly, I was reminded that I was a slave.

Say what you want about guild mercenaries, they’re not shy about cooking up monsters. Vinegar is a vile substance, bitter and strong. It also negated the worst tastes in meat, including spiders roasted in their shells.

Not to worry, the venom glands were removed first, and the meat most at risk if mistakes were made was the cook’s portion. My favorite part were the leg muscles, hard as it was to cook them properly.

It took two days, sometimes three, to clear a nest. Each day, roughly three or four soldiers would be too badly wounded to continue. So every two days I needed to go out and look for the herbs needed to treat them.

.....

What I foraged that didn’t have medical use was handed over to our cooking staff.

Over the next seven days, the cart arrived twice, and three nests were cleared. We remained at camp for an additional day, our scouts looking for spiders.

Gemina declared victory, struck camp, and proceeded back. All told, we lost two people to poison.

#

"We aren’t dismissed, troops.”

There was a variety of grumbles and protests.

"Everyone knows we’ve been harassed by Black Fist orcs every time we cross their land to the south. Well, the Guild gets some back today!”

Some idiot started cheering, and it proved contagious.

"And to top that, we get to kill those Crimson Hand bastards!”

This time, I joined the cheering.

"So get good sleep tonight, everyone able to deploy moves out in support of our orcish allies in the morning.”

Harvid and Janos each grabbed one of my arms, and almost carried me to Tangars, ensuring that I had sandals, mail, and helmet. Honestly, I’m surprised that Tangars had chainmail in my size.

Given the choice between hitting the stores and attending Uloned’s special dinner? It was an easy choice. Leather backpack, leather polishing oil, rags, awl and steel needles, animal tendons, mortar and pestle... all this and more. Still not a complete kit, but it included a straw-filled bedroll.

In retrospect, wrap your bedroll in your tent tarp, something I didn’t have.

As you might guess, it rained that day, and we spent much of our time freeing the supply cart from the mud.

We made a beeline for the hill where we normally met our Uruk guides, and they were there.

"Hail, Uruk warriors.”

"We were told there would be thirty of you. Twenty-three is not thirty.”

"We were fighting spiders, many of our warriors still recover from poison.”

"This is not a good start.” He turned his head and spit. “But it is a start. It is six day’s walk, perhaps nine as your oxen move.”

"If your tribe will assure the safety of our cart, the rest of us can march ahead.”

He nodded, and extended a hand. “This is a good bargain.”

She gripped his hand as though trying to crush it, and when he matched her grasp, they shook.

"I enjoy your grasp; it is the handshake of a warrior.”

"Where you lead, we shall follow.”

And for several days, it was so. The Black Fist may have had some sort of auto-hunt feature; they brought much meat to our shared stew. They ate as I did, with abandon for dignity and manners. They ate like they could die during the meal.

I would need to learn a special version of Move Water that would dry out my bedroll. I didn’t mind the water, but the cold used it to get into my bedroll and sap all the heat off of me.

It took me two nights to get the lynchpins (more on that soon, I promise). Under the watchful gaze of Black Snake, I attempted it.

"Spirits of water, hear my plea, grant my request! Why be in that ragged bedroll? Join this water here in my cookpot. Move Water! Move All Water!”

Two points of River mana vanished from my pool, and various points of XP were awarded.

And, although it was muddy, and smelled like feet, all of the water was out of my bedroll.

"Physical things are stupid.” Black Snake said, and went out exploring.

Of course, it rained that night.

#