//------------------------------// // Set Them Up The Bomb // Story: Do you believe in Ghosts? // by Material Defender //------------------------------// “I don’t think I’ve ever seen more cannons in my entire life,” Mendoza said. “And the old-fashioned ones, at that.” He laughed. “I bet there’s tons of gunpowder in there somewhere. Just have to find where they keep them all at, and we can just drop in and blow it all up.” “No way.” Bloodfury creeped up the hill and joined Mendoza’s position as he sat behind a tuft of bushes. “Scarclaw wants the reserves kept intact! If we can capture Kruvem without completely blowing it up, we can turn the tables and use them on Strongbeak’s forces.” “Well, what if we can’t take the city? What happens then?” “Then we retreat, assess our losses, and see if it’s still not worth taking. If it isn’t, then we blow everything up to deny them their precious powder.” “So you guys are serious about this?” Mendoza huffed, nodding towards the crenellations bursting with cannons. “We’re supposed to fight our way past those guns?” “Not if we can help it. We’re tunneling our way in.” “Won’t that take forever to do?” Bloodfury shook his head. “Not with the automated diggers that we managed to pull from Carseract’s old mining warehouses. The drills are still in working condition, and the machines only needed some replacement parts to bring it back up to working standards.” “Nice. So that’s what all that hardware was for? I thought they were battering rams, or something.” “Heh. Would have taken forever, but we managed to bring in one, at least. It’ll do for now. Don’t want them getting suspicious. Now let’s get back inside. The patrols are about to sweep this area.” They gave the intimidating stone walls a parting glance before slinking their way back down the hill, towards what appeared to be an unassuming piece of shrubbery sitting all by its lonesome in the desolate spot it had made for itself. Bloodfury looked around the skies for a moment to ensure they weren’t being watched before giving the ground a hard trio of knocks. “You know our sensors would pick up anything over or around the hills, right?” Mendoza said. “Can’t take any chances,” Bloodfury replied. “Sometimes, some good old eyeballing does the job just fine.” The ground slightly parted, pushing the shrubbery up and revealing the concealed trap door underneath. “Back already?” Fellwyre asked, looking up at them. “Hurry, get inside.” He backed down the ladder and stepped back, giving the pair some room to land inside as they hopped down the passage, avoiding the ladder and trying their best not to slip on their landings. “Impressive,” Mendoza said. “That drill’s pretty quiet.” “That it is,” Fellwyre said, brandishing his lantern and leading them through the cavernous hall. “They actually use magic, believe it or not, to alleviate the shock and lessen the risks of the tunnels collapsing. Not always effective, but such safeguards lowered the fatalities.” “Magic...” Mendoza said, shaking his head. “I still don’t get that stuff. And I don’t think I ever will, really.” “Heh. Sometimes even the best of us griffons have no idea how it works,” Bloodfury said, giving a throaty chuckle before clearing his throat, displeased with the dryness of the Griffon Empire’s northern climate. “Takes a lot of work for barely any results. That’s why we usually left this stuff to the ponies.” “I get you...” They entered a larger cavern, brightened by an assortment of torches stretching along the walls and revealing a room full of idle equipment and soldiers busy preparing themselves for the inevitable assault. “Nice to know that we have backup this time.” “Taking a city like Kruvem? We’re going to need it.” “So... what if the entire army just turns around and tries to take this place back?” Mendoza said. They continued down another flight of stairs, passing by a group of griffons busy at work as they inspected the contents of the boxes they’d brought with them: swords, armor, supplies, and clothing, among other things. “Scarclaw wants this to be our first victory and our starting point for taking back our home,” Fellwyre said. “This is where we make ourselves known. We want Strongbeak to see that we’re not broken and we’re not scattered. We’re organized, united, and dead serious about putting him where he belongs.” “Yeah, on the executioner’s block,” Bloodfury said. “We’re funneling in more reinforcements by moving off the roads or using disguises, but what we have here is more than enough for it: enough griffons to number Kruvem’s garrison, and a large contingent of Imperial Guard. That’ll give them something to shake their beaks at.” “And then there’s us...” Mendoza added. “Oh, of course.” Bloodfury gave an approving nod to a group of Imperial Guard suiting themselves up in their trademark golden armor. “But as usual, you’ll be doing work behind enemy lines, hamstringing them where it matters the most while we draw their attention away by luring them to the combat zones.” “So, what happens if they point those cannons the other way?” Mendoza asked. Bloodfury maneuvered their group around the space, going in a zig-zag pattern as he weaved between groups of Imperial Guard to check up on them, and to prevent the lessers from getting a glimpse at their trump card. Not much of a problem, considering that the camouflage maintained its effects when not outright running, and the darkness did well to obscure the rest of his form. “They won’t. Kruvem’s too important to blow to bits, being the main supply line to Aerocem from Fortress Helmguard to the west and Tesseraka further up north. The wall defenses only point outward to deter and fire at invaders, anyway. Can’t risk up blowing up all that powder, after all.” “Huh. Handle with care, I guess,” Mendoza said, nodding. “So, anything interesting happen back south?” “Aerocem’s in a state of hushed panic,” Fellwyre said, as they took a turn down a hallway and approached the war room, guarded by a pair of Imperial Guard standing at attention with their halberds. “And Carseract has been picking itself up rather nicely. We’ve gotten tons of support since the city was taken, and the army forces there have no idea that we’re in charge of it now.” “Nice.” They entered the room and all eyes turned on them. “Greetings, esteemed comrades,” Mendoza bowed with a flourish. “Anything new?” “Nothing much. But our intelligence reports that we’re going to have a hard time trying to get set up in the city without getting shut down quickly,” Talbot said. “According to one report, Castshot’s set himself up in the fortress at the northwestern end of Kruvem, and has outfitted it with cannons.” “Damn. Those weren’t there before,” Bloodfury said, shaking his head. “I don’t know much about Castshot, but I’m really hoping he doesn’t get paranoid and start shelling the city while his forces are still in it.” “That’s why I talked to you about those explosives, Fuse,” Talbot said, standing at the head of the table. “We can get into the city, but if they manage to pin us all down at the entrance, we’re done for. Scarclaw says that he can’t send any more drills our way, since the forces near Aerocem are ramping up their own patrols westward, no doubt in response to Highwind’s assassination.” “Ah, right. I checked those reports,” Fellwyre said. “They’ve grown suspicious that their own griffons are planning on turning against them. Fantastic work, though, since they’ve no evidence that any outside party managed to kill him. The only ones present there the entire time were the guards, and that messenger that they caught. He pled innocence and they let him go, however, so now their guess is as good as anyone’s.” “Great. That’s how it was supposed to work,” Pastor said, sitting to Talbot’s right as his helmet sat on the table. “No trace, but I guess it was nice they didn’t point fingers—or talons, in your case—at the loyalists. Gives us some breathing room.” “As far as things go...” Bloodfury took off his own helmet and looked at the room’s hanging red-painted banner of the Griffon Empire. “...they still think we’re... well, dead. That the loyalists are on the run, weak, disorganized. Here is where we show that we’re still ready in full force.” “No witnesses in Carseract?” Raymond asked, recalling how the city had turned into a battlefield during their pursuit of Whisper. “Correct.” The sniper smirked. “You guys sure work fast.” “Easy to bend the truth when we’re the ones in control of the quill,” Fellwyre said. “To Strongbeak, it was simply an uprising from pony sympathizers quelled by ‘friendly’ forces, and I’m sure he hasn’t gotten around to questioning Whisper’s leadership.” “Probably too busy dealing with Highwind’s death,” Bloodfury muttered. “Two down, five to go. At least Snowfeather is now working with the data gatherers. Our reports from the home base have been more organized as of late, and it helps a lot when we don’t even have to skim through it to find what we need.” “So what was that about explosives?” Mendoza asked, pulling the conversation back on track. “You said you wanted something big, so I delivered,” he said, nodding towards the pile of barrels sitting at one corner of the room. “We need to blow open the gates of Kruvem’s fortress,” Talbot said. “When we start our attack, he’s going to retreat inside and most likely try to hold out until reinforcements arrive, or until we’re dead. We’re not going to give him the opportunity to do that, and we’re not going to bother risking soldiers to fly up and try to take the gatehouse.” “Ah... a door knocker,” he said, nodding appreciatively. “I concur with this plan of action, sir.” “Correction: door knockers, plural,” Pastor replied. “We’re also sending a whole bunch to the eastern city gates to create an entrance so our regular forces can get in, after the forces sent eastward from our tunneled entrance can disable the cannons.” “Why not just open the gatehouse?” Mendoza inquired. “You ever try opening a gatehouse when you’re surrounded by enemies?” Bloodfury said. “It’s definitely far from easy. Those things take time to open, and for something as large as griffonic city gates? Opening them could take minutes. In peace time, they’d normally be open all the time with a guard detail. During wartime, though... we make our enemies work if they want our cities.” “Right... well, I’m sure that’ll be fine for whichever poor bastard ends up having to rebuild that stuff.” Mendoza pulled out his MR8 and checked the magazine. “Still good on bullets for now, at least. The stakes are rising and I’m in no hurry to use my bow...” “So long as don’t overdo things, we’ll be fine,” Talbot said. “Now...” He tapped his finger on the line that planned out their route of assault towards Kruvem’s castle. “...do we have anything else on what’s inside?” “Guns. Big ones. Possibly bigger than the ones stationed on the outer city walls,” Bloodfury said. He reached into his bag and pulled out several hefty scrolls, spreading them out across the table. “The designs have been put into production now, so it wasn’t too hard trying to obtain them.” “I assume the one on the bottom is the regular cannon comparison...” Pastor said, rotating the scroll towards himself so he could get a better look. “Damn, those are some pretty big guns.” “So do we smash those, too?” Mendoza asked. “Man, I wonder how we’re going to get to this guy, all turtled up like that.” “And that’s where our forces come in,” Fellwyre said, sticking a dagger straight into the center of the city map. “We’re going to try to storm them by numbers. The rest of the groups are hiding out in various settlements around the city, masquerading as farmers or other simple folk, or otherwise holding back until the signal to strike is given.” “And that would be?” “We burn etchwood grass, a special kind of grass that’s only found near the outskirts of Carseract in the marshlands. It’s known for its ability to turn smoke red when burning. That’s what we’re counting on,” Bloodfury said. He again delved into his bag, and pulled out several strands of the darkened brown-red plant and dropping them on the table. “A lit arrow is all we need to light this,” Fellwyre said. “We’ve collected enough to create a plume of smoke that will be seen for quite a distance around the region.” An Imperial Guard, greatsword slung over his back, entered the room and whispered something into his ear. “Uh-huh... thank you for notifying us.” “Something concrete?” Pastor asked, watching as the Guard left the room. The size of griffonic weaponry certainly gave the Ghosts ample incentive to avoid being detected. “Yep. Castshot himself has been sighted in the city. Last we heard, it was mostly just rumors.” Now Fellwyre stick his claw in his bag and pulled out the file on the general. “He travels a lot, naturally. The guns are in use everywhere in the Empire, and definitely on the frontlines. He likes to evaluate the readiness of the guns himself, and it looks like he’s just stopped back in town.” “Good,” Bloodfury agreed. The same Imperial Guard re-entered the room, this time whispering something to him. “The drill is slowly working its way closer. Within the next day or so, we’ll hit the city walls, and that’s when things will have to slow down. Can’t risk detection through tremors, so we have to take our way through the wall’s foundations real slowly.” “Then I suppose it’s a good time for us to get a final lay of the land,” Pastor said. “Scope, you’re with me. And Talon,” he said with a nod to Talbot, “we’ll report back our findings. Here’s to hoping we might actually find something interesting.” “Village coming up... watch your step, water on the right.” Pastor led Raymond along a small pond, entering the side of an open village. Within marched groups of griffons and wagons, the never-ceasing supply caravans coming to and fro, marking a standard day in Kruvem’s routines. They entered a small alley, hugging the walls as they stopped at the corner, watching a pair of griffons pull along a cannon through the muddy town street. From their position, they could see straight down the lane towards the gargantuan city gates, which stood closed in the distance. The day’s quotas of caravans had already ended as the night began to fall, and so the gates were no longer required to be open. “Checking the walls,” Pastor said, lowering into a crouch as he pulled out his binoculars. “Nowhere good to set up the D-kit, so I think we’ll have to do without it this time.” A bleep went through his helmet’s speakers as Raymond activated the sensor grenade on his belt. “At least we still have these,” he said, tapping the orb. “Right...” Pastor’s vision was partially obscured as rain began drizzling down on them, and he fought the urge to sneeze when a rogue wind blew through the alley. Puddles began to collect in the narrow space, but the corner space had an awning that left them dry; the sight of their bootprints parting the liquid could have served as a dead giveaway to their presence to more observant eyes. “With all the medieval defense stuff, you’d think they’d actually bother to build a moat for one of these damn cities...” Raymond said, crouching behind Pastor and hugging himself to preserve his heat; biting cold and worsening rain did no favors for those unfortunate enough to be caught in it. “Yeah, but at least they love their torches...” Pastor called back, his voice mixing in with the rain, marching boots, and squeaking wagon wheels. “The gate’s all nice and lit up, and I can still spot the guns from this distance.” He flipped over to the night-vision and swept his vision left and right: the cannons seemed to have been retracted into the walls as their familiar cylindrical shapes were nowhere to be seen, closed doors in their place instead. “Well, I guess I did. They retract them inside when the weather gets bad.” “Probably don’t want to end up cold,” Raymond said, sniffing. “Wind’s picking up.” Pastor deposited the binoculars back to their position on his belt. “Let’s not wait for us to turn into popsicles, then. Backtrack the way we came from, and try not to slip.” “Mud’s going to leave tracks.” “...shit,” Pastor said. “Fine, stay on the hill.” He walked past Raymond and stopped at the opposite corner, peeking his head to look for a less risky path back. “There’s... I see a house, three blocks down northeast, with what looks like stone steps leading through the meadow and stopping just short of the hill we came from.” Suddenly, a shout caused him to flinch and immediately straighten up against the wall. Instinct kicked in and both he and Raymond immediately turned around, rifles at the ready, only to see a griffon soldier standing at attention in the pouring rain as he was chewed out by his superior. “You idiot!” the officer, identifiable by his plumed helmet, shouted. “Did you not check any of these barrels before you put them on the wagon? All of them quite clearly say ‘for authorized use only: infused blackpowder’! This shipment was meant for General Castshot’s fortress! Get your scrawny ass back to Kruvem now and hope you don’t get chewed out by Castshot himself for this oversight!” “But... uh,” the soldier responded dumbly. “Does it matter? It’s all just the same blackpowder, isn’t it?” The officer merely shook his head in disappointment, rubbing his beak like a father disappointed with a son’s delinquent antics. “No, you idiot, it’s called infused blackpowder for a reason! Castshot’s cannons require this special kind of magic-infused powder to operate his guns, and if you fire this kind of potent powder from a regular cannon, the only thing we’d end up with is a bunch of dead gunners and a useless weapon! We can’t use this on the frontlines, now take it back!” “Then why don’t we have those cannons on the front—” “Did I say you could talk back?” “No, sir.” “Then why is your beak moving and not your legs? Get out of my sight!” “Yes, sir, right away, sir.” He brought the wagon around into a U-turn and started heading down the empty stretch of road, passing by his comrades as he did so. Many bore expressions of sympathy... no griffon wanted to end up in such a disparaging position in such dreary weather. “Some new gunpowder, huh?” Raymond said. “For the big guns, too.” “Worth looking into,” Pastor said, motioning to move down towards the small house they had originally been planning to relocate to, but instead going straight along the block of houses instead of detouring towards the building’s farther location. They stopped at the end of the row of homes, taking cover behind a crumbling chunk of what used to be a wall of a house. “...damn walk, in this rain... hope the ancestors give him his just desserts...” the soldier grumbled, now alone as he stepped into a puddle, cursing again. “What’s the plan here?” Raymond asked. “I want a sample of that gunpowder,” Pastor replied. “Wait here and keep an eye out for trouble.” “Roger.” Matching speed with the sluggish wagon’s pace wasn’t much of a problem given the weather. Nor was getting into position near the back of the wagon, as Pastor tried to locate something in which to hold a sample of infused powder, his cloak holding as the wagon approached a bridge standing above a river bursting with raging waters. Eventually, he found a small patch of ragged cloth leftover from his gear-cleaning habits that worked suitably well to hold the powder. Rain barely flowed from the wagon’s few open spaces, the barrels having been packed tightly together enough where most of its inner contents remained dry. In extension, that also meant any rogue samples of infused blackpowder, and wooden barrels, however sturdy and well-made they may be, were never really known for their capabilities to effectively hold a substance which had the consistency of sand. Slinging the MR8 strap over his shoulder, he slowly moved his receiving cloth tray and a free hand forward, sweeping over a clump of the powder the size of his thumb, and expediently wrapping the cloth around it before withdrawing it back into the pouch on his back belt. He stopped, letting the wagon continue its journey unobserved, and was glad to see that, at the moment, there were no other griffons around. “Got the sample?” Raymond asked. “Let’s get the hell out of here.” “Right after you,” Pastor said, nodding towards the hill. “Just watch your step.” “So, this... ‘infused blackpowder’ was being transported to the fortress in Kruvem?” Bloodfury asked. The blackpowder sat on the emptied table in the war room, where all eyes upon it scrutinized its strange properties, assumed in part due to its faint shimmering glow that fluctuated between shades of blue and purple. “For use with Castshot’s mega-cannons, it seems,” Pastor said. “Must be some kind of powder if big guns have to use it, instead of, say... more gunpowder. Or blackpowder, as you guys call it.” “I’ll bet an arm and a leg that this kind of powder makes an even larger boom than normal,” Mendoza said, excitedly dancing around the table as he continued to examine the powder. “Damn, would you look at that...? It’s like somebody mixed regular powder with magical glow dust or something.” “Well, at least we know what Strongbeak’s doing with the Institute of Magic now,” Fellwyre said. He poked at it with one of his claws and brought it up to his face, squinting as he slowly rubbed it. “My assumptions are that this infused blackpowder reduces the amount needed to fire the cannon, especially for the ones as large as the fortress’.” “So, bigger boom than normal?” “Most likely,” Fellwyre replied. “I know for certain that magic has special combustive properties when applied as a raw enhancer to certain components... much like what we’re seeing here.” “Can we test it?” Mendoza quickly asked. “No,” Talbot said. “If this powder ends up producing the force of a crateful of TNT, we’d be buried alive, on top of having our plans go down the drain.” “TNT...?” Bloodfury asked with a raised brow. “Makes a really big boom.” Mendoza imitated an explosion with sound effects. “Big enough that we used it for mining and other such things requiring the immediate displacement or removal of large amounts of... stuff.” Bloodfury grimaced and nodded. “Well, with weapons like yours, I can’t say that I’m surprised you have stuff like that. And the captain is right: we can’t risk bringing all of this down on our heads. Ancestors confound me, this is the first time I’m hearing about this myself.” “Okay, so no testing. But if Castshot’s got all this crap stored up in his fortress, what are we going to do with it?” Mendoza’s question was laced with a tone of curiosity; there was untapped potential with this powder... that could perhaps be used to create more potent explosives. “That’s yet to be decided,” Bloodfury said. “As it is, the only thing Scarclaw has told us was that only Kruvem itself needed to be taken intact. I doubt he cares much for the fortress considering that it was only constructed within the last ten years, and he probably has his plans revolving around its old city plans, back when griffons fought other things instead of each other.” “So, if shit really hits the fan, we can just blow the whole thing sky fucking high?” Mendoza said. “Aw, man, now I’m really hoping he ends up turtling. Then we just infiltrate, rig the explosives, make our way out, sit back, and watch the fireworks! BOOM!” He clapped his hands together. “So, gentlemen—and griffons—when do we begin?” “As soon as that damn drill actually makes it through,” Bloodfury said. “But...” He paused. “No, no, that won’t work. We don’t have much in the way of safehouses or a tunnel network for transportation in Kruvem like we did in Carseract.” “Thinking about sending us in first?” “If not to at least get a lay of the city, mark all the warehouses containing blackpowder, infiltrate important facilities, mark targets of interest, and all that regular intelligence crap,” Fellwyre said. “Looks like you’ll be going in with the rest of us. Unless you’re really up for it, but I’m sure we can work something out...” “I’d imagine that the moment the drill breaks the surface in the city, soldiers will be all over it. Well, considering that we have to surface somewhere with ample breaching room—” He looked pointedly towards the big circled ‘X’ on the large city map on the wall, right on top of Kruvem’s market square. “—it’s a given that the response will be quick, and I’m not sure if we can guarantee your safety during the rush.” “Wait... no.” Bloodfury turned around and looked through the other various scrolls piled high against the wall. “We might not even have to go entirely into the city. Maybe enough to breach the walls and create an insertion point for the Ghosts.” He tossed one after another aside until he found snapped his claws, raising a scroll into the air. “Whoa. You can do that with those things?” Mendoza asked. “Takes a bit of practice, but yes. In any case, here.” He rolled the scroll out: the contents within labeled the undercrofts of nearly every building in the city, and the city’s own compact sewer system wired all around them. “We can find somewhere to drop you off so you can get in without having to go with us. The sewer systems are too narrow for our own to use, but humans fit the profile just perfectly, for the most part.” “So... can’t just sneak into the fortress through that?” Pastor asked. “Would be helpful if we could...” “The fortress has its own sewer system, and those we don’t have the plans for.” He shrugged. “Damn. Well, it was worth looking into. Would have been easier if we could just go in, snipe the asshole, then get the hell out.” “Well, we’ve got a day, more or less, to consider our decisions.” “Into a market battlefield or wading through sewers full of crap...?” Mendoza wondered out loud. “You know, I’d rather take my chances with not dying. I mean, what’s to say that they won’t start flinging arrows at the marketplace breach the moment they come out?” “Well, we have shields...” Bloodfury said. “You don’t.” “Yeah, see? We’re better off doing what we do best. Maybe we can sneak in and set up the explosives at the eastern gates?” Bloodfury tapped a wooden barrel next to him that was half as tall as he was. “You mean these things? No offense, but I don’t think you can carry these.” “What about those powder explosives you made, Fuse?” Talbot asked. “You mean these pansy-ass things?” Mendoza dropped a pair of the spheric explosives on the table, roughly the size of his fist. “Fuse-detonated. They’d work well as a grenade or breaching charge, but a gate that big? Might as well throw toothpicks at it. The casks were already a pain in the ass to work with, and I don’t think they come any bigger than that.” “Do they work?” “Uh... I guess so. One of the Imperial Guard engineers put these together for me. Said it was a little on the small side, though, but it’ll work just fine. Been taking some of them apart to see if I can build some of my own later on, and it doesn’t seem too complicated. I’d like to whip some up with infused gunpowder, though, and test them out with extra-long fuses.” “Well, we still have our own grenades, don’t we?” Pastor asked. “Yeah, frag, flashbang, and some EMPs,” Talbot said. “But save those for emergencies. Stealth is our primary weapon here.” “And I still have my C4s, and a couple of breaching charges,” Mendoza added. “So it’s decided?” Bloodfury interrupted. “Yeah. We’ll be taking the sewers in. What’s our task then?” Talbot asked. “Get into the fortress before our attack starts, and hopefully try to catch Castshot off guard before our attack begins. If you can’t take him out before then, just let us lure his forces out of the fortress and then you can get to work. He won’t expect an attack from within.” “Great!” Mendoza said, making for the door. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.” Their quarters sat silent, the humans within slumbering on their beds when the sound of footsteps entered. “Anvil!” Talbot shouted, fully suited up. “It’s time to move!” “Ugh... aw, what?” Mendoza feebly muttered. “What time is it?” “Early morning. The drill has just made contact with the wall, and the griffons have cleared us an entrance into the sewer system. We’re going in now.” “Well, got some sleep, at least,” he grumbled, putting on his boots. “Attack’s going to be soon, then?” “They make good progress on it and we might see some action by the afternoon. As it is, we’re going in to see what we can learn, and then we’ll be on our way to the fortress.” “What about the rifle?” Raymond asked, gesturing to the M107 sitting on top of a crate next to his bed. “Leave it. It’ll be too heavy, and we can’t count on Castshot being willing to present himself for a kill shot. We get inside and try to locate him as soon as possible, and situation allowing, kill him and get out before the attack starts.” “And if we don’t manage to kill him before then?” “Expect increased security and Castshot to relocate somewhere deep in the fortress. Which means that we’ll have to go inside and do things the hard way. Imagine if we had to assault the base above Aerocem if they locked down the whole place before we got in.” “Doors locked, guards on alert, patrols all over the damn place,” Mendoza said, locking the exoskeleton frame into position on his body.“Reminds me of our operations in Europe. Nasty stuff.” “Then you know what to expect,” Talbot said. “Now let’s get moving!”