Michael Clark
patreon
Butcher of Gadobhra Chapter 532
🕑 Added 2025-09-26 01:20:50 +0000 UTCWolves at the Gate.
Winter Beastmasters were confident creatures of great willpower. They had to be. The nature of their link was one of dominance. If they faltered, their beasts could turn on them and bring a fatal end to their partnership. Fatigue and stress were the two great threats to their dominance, and for the two dozen beastmasters trying to control the packs assaulting Sedgewick, they were at their breaking point. Only by letting the beasts run wild and feed, often on each other, were they able to keep going. No one was in charge now; the older Beastermasters had tried to take on too many beasts and were now gibbering in corners of their lairs. Others had simply winked out as something ended their lives. So, it was a profound sense of relief to hear the harsh, powerful voice in their minds, demanding their submission. It roared into their minds, taking control of each of them, and wove them into a pattern along with their packs. Some struggled against the indomitable will of this Elder Beastmaster. It was a short fight as each dropped to their knees, screaming.
<You fools have let the swarms run around like newly hatched crawlers, feeding how they like. This appeasement makes you weak, while the beasts grow strong! Your weakness sickens me. I should crush you for that, but I still have need of you, and this grants you a chance for redemption. We are going to conquer this little village. Claw down the gates, swarm over the walls, devour what lurks inside. The beasts that fail to take the walls will be a ladder for the next wave. Bring your packs to the front of the town and throw them into battle. Follow my orders, and we will forge victory. I lend you my strength, and you will be strong. I give my orders, and you don't have to think! Fearless Leader says: CHARGE!>
Freed from thought and invigorated with the will of their powerful leader, the Beastmasters obeyed and brought their packs under control, and got them moving to Sedgewick. The fighting in the Hamlets and outlying farms had barely begun when the wolves and Snarlfangs turned and left, leaving confused but relieved defenders. Wolfpacks streamed towards Sedgewick, oblivious of the hunters in their midst. Fey Hunters, packs of rabid goats, and brave wyverns, adventurous farmers, rogues, and barbarians picked them off one by one. On one flank, black wolves brought down an entire pack, adding their might to the undead. As if they had one mind guiding them, the packs assembled in front of Sedgewick, packed tightly, and charged forward.
Caldrius had just gained the top of the gate tower as they came in range. The youngsters were having fun, calling out their spells and trying to outdo each other.
Most of them were the 'players' he had seen running around lately, using easily cast, but lackluster spells.
"Turgid Fireblast"
"Warmball of Hellfire!"
"Double Fireball!"
"Burning fingertips."
He let them have their fun. Maybe in another five or ten levels, they'd settle down and begin actually to learn the true meaning of Fire. For now, they could revel in the wonder of a field full of targets who didn't dodge and couldn't spread out. He was surprised at how hard the spells were hitting until he felt the power coming from the older woman in an apron, holding a frying pan.
Seven women were holding hands and chanting, channeling pure white magic to enhance the town's protectors. Mana was pouring from them to refill what was being used up in spellcasting, and a second chant was enhancing the damage done to their enemies by half again. He had encountered witch circles before, but not one with this kind of raw power. Or such an eclectic mix of abilities. A cook led the main chant, and a Shadow Seamstress the second. A kindly old woman with a basket of cookies sang off-key, enjoying herself. A Seawitch who must be the local Guildmistress sang out strong and clear. Surprisingly, the circle included two players: a Priestess of Frey and a Charming Skald, both from The Righteous Guild of Thundering Punishers of Evil. Caldrius considered that a fine name for a group of heroes. Very traditional in the style of Old Verona. The last woman, standing in the front on a stool so she could see over the parapet, was a redhead-haired fury with an ax in her belt that reeked of violence. He'd seen that axe before...
"Oh gods, Titania? Here?!" The woman had nearly as many wanted posters as Damien Franklin! A terror in female form that he'd encountered once before. The memories were hazy and involved a drinking house in Trollandria where he had wanted to sample the local gin. She'd challenged him to a drinking contest, which he assumed he had lost. He'd woken up naked, in a cage. Finding out he'd been sold to a roving band of Ogre Volcano worshipers on their way to church, he relaxed and went along for the ride. He'd learned a lot on that trip, but never remembered the details of the night.
To his chagrin, she sensed him, turned, and winked with a leering smile. Then blew him a kiss and got back to chanting. He sighed and went to cast a spell. Burning things always made him feel better.
"Twin Fireballs of DOOM!" Might as well show the youngsters how things were done. The twin incendiary spells hit the wolfpack, exploding and rolling through the pack for fifty feet, killing a dozen wolves each and setting a hundred on fire.
Not to be outdone, three striking young Fire Mages let loose with a coordinated set of spells, turning minor explosions into a stacked pillar of fire that roared from the sky.
"Triple Witching Hour! Enhanced Ringing Flames of the Faltine."
Caldrius rolled up his sleeves. "Conflagration of a thousand Ifrits!" A wave of fire spread from his hands, turning into a myriad of conjured fire spirits that assailed the front line of wolves, burning and blinding them, and causing the next wave to roll over them.
The three woman looked at him, flipped their hair, and began casting, weaving their spells together in a way that took a decade of practice. Their bright red hair and distinctive features looked familiar. As did the Fire Silk robes. Their spell grew, an angry spell.
"Vengeful Anger of Women Scorned and Betrayed!!!" A new sun grew in the middle of the massed packs as three hundred wolves turned to ash.
The competitors for the award of who could cast the biggest fire spell smiled at each other as only life-long pyromaniacs can. Before either could catch their breath and begin again, a deep, male voice shouted out, "LAND SHARK!!!
They all turned to see the Butcher on the wall, a forest fire's worth of smoke and flame coming from him that materialized into a sixty-foot-long Megaladon running along on four stout legs. The body was thick, grey smoke, but the teeth and claws were pure heat. Caldrius looked at the spell, surprised to see a miniature sun inside. The shark charged a Snarlfang, catching it in its huge jaws, burning and tearing into it. More Snarlfangs attacked, joining the fight. And a hundred wolves tried to pull down the smoky fish, only to choke to death. The Butcher calmly put away his glowing polearm and took a massive, two-handed cleaver from his back, getting ready to defend the walls.
Caldrius looked at the three young women, "Probably best if we stick to variations of the Fireball spell, it may be a long fight, and we need maximum burning while conserving our mana. Let me illustrate how I cast with one hand while building another fireball in the left. A steady stream of damage with the minimum in mana usage."
Two nodded. One said, "I want to learn to learn the Shark spell."
The older mage agreed, "Agreed. If this is all over, maybe we can ask the Butcher to tutor us. For now, let's burn wolves."
=================================
Ozzy was grinning as he watched his creation cause havoc on the oncoming horde. It had taken a big chunk of stamina and smoke, and his Blessing of Apollo, but when else was he going to get to do something like this? The horde was closing fast, he made ready to get ready to do what he did best, Butchery. Rolly's plan was working as far as concentrating the wolves to the front in a kill zone. What little was wrapping around the sides was being dealt with by the guilds of players. If the moat could slow them up, and they could slaughter them from above, they might pull this off.
As the wolves pushed into the moat, it did more than slow them up. Suzette had pulled hard on her Fae Realm, and the potent poisons outright killed the lowest-level wolves as their muscles seized up and they drowned. Those who survived to the other side were still soaking in poisonous water and losing health at a steady rate. They leaped at the walls, finding the next surprise. When Ozzy had first encountered the Silverthorn vines in the Fae Lands, he'd avoided their poison, knowing it would kill him. The wolves were nearly as tough as the Butcher had been, nor as smart. Trying to climb the walls, or even getting near, brought painful stab wounds from the knife-shaped thorns. Dead wolves began piling up at the base of the walls or fell back into the moat. The waters of the moat frothed with dying wargs and enthusiastic rippy fish. With the water had come the old Duchess's favorite pet. Like pihrana on crack, they were frenzied and ever hungry. They chewed through live and dead flesh alike, turning the greenish water red.
Chainy was having fun, baiting wolves with chunks of meat dangling on meathooks. The packs were congregating on his corner, the smell of roasting meat overwhelming their senses. Ozzy yelled over to him, "Chainy, if you can clear the piles in the front, it would be a big help. Toss them into a pile by the sausage shed, we'll grind it all up this week."
A silver chain saluted, and the Smokehouse sent out chains to drag the carcases and flip them over the walls to land in a pile.
Ozzy was on the lookout for the next helping of trouble and saw it coming. The wolves might not be able to get over the walls, but the Snarlfangs could. They could also claw through the thick, smoke-infused wood of the gate, if given time. They wouldn't get it. Two of the carpenters were bracing the gates, adding more timbers, and repairing the damage from the other side. Caldrius was directly above them, making targeting them with a Flaming Spear of Baetylus a simple task. The spear of molten metal erupted from the ground directly under the first Snarlfang, burning through it and shattering its spine. The other barely noticed until a second spell killed it as well. Everyone clapped at the display, but Caldius was bothered by how focused the beasts were. What powerful mind was behind this brutal assault? How could any group of Beastmasters manage it?
The next Snarlfang went for Ozzy, standing in the center of the wall and throwing insults at the wolves. It leaped completely over the moat and nearly to the parapet. Its hind legs scrambled for purchase, and the Silverthorne vines wrapped around the creature, holding it in place as the silvery daggers stabbed into tough hide. Ozzy brought his Hog Splitter high and brought it down on the Snarflang's skull, using the dull back edge. Like thousands of Sedge Beasts, it died instantly as Ozzy used his Slaughter skill to score a massive critical hit. Blood, brains, and bits of skull spattered anyone within twenty feet. That included the second Snarlfang that used its dead relative as a landing pad. It leaped at Ozzy, knocking the two of them to the courtyard.
The Snarlfang roared, and the Butcher roared back. Front claws that could put grooves in steel barely left scratches. The jaws that could crush a Sedge Bull's skull in one bite were trying to rip out the Butcher's throat. He grabbed the upper and lower jaws and heaved while growing to his full height. The apex predator looked like a small dog compared to him. There was a 'snap' as he broke its jaw, and then its back with a bear hug.
He turned to see two more sail over the wall, as a third began fighting with players defending that section.
"Alright, looks like I'm the dog catcher and you mutts are on my list. Come get me!" The snarlfangs were only too happy to comply.
Comments
Duck_Giblets
Just some minor corrections. guilds of players. - player guilds reads better. pihrana - piranha The wolves were nearly as tough as the Butcher had been, nor as smart - were not nearly
Findell
Huh guess they forgot about the distraction meat barrels on a catapult.
The El Bandito
Just makes it extra spicy.
RedInkQuill
The neighborhood dogs are not deterred by the backyard hedge and water feature as they hunger for the bbq.
Orthomalleus
Alternatively, substitute “but not” for “nor”
Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander
Squirmie flexing her royal heritage 🙂
TwistedVanity
Great chapter.. but poisoned wolf meat. Sausage does not sound nice
TwistedVanity
EDIT. MISSING WORD "NOT" The wolves were NOT nearly as tough as the Butcher had been, nor as smart.
Engineer4God
Tank oo fur da chap!
Pierre-clément LAMBRIX
It's time for the butcher brigade.
Michael Clark
and that delightful poison flavoring, not found elsewhere!
Felix H.
Well i guess the imperial Legions can look forward to some extra helpings of sedgewick sausage...but i guess seperating lower and higher tier meat will be a pain in the rear
RedInkQuill
The frozen hoard is deterred by a backyard garden with a water feature and a bbq.
Jennifer Leigh
Or 'neither as tough, nor as smart'
JC Silver
FOR THE FEARLESS LEADER! small edit suggestion: "The wolves were nearly as tough as the Butcher" should say "not nearly"
JFitz
Butcher uses taunt. It is super-effective!
