Warband

Chapter 4. Gritvart.

The sensation of falling began again, but this time, there was a landing. With a grunt of pain, Silas fell onto his back. The impact took the breath out of him, but he didn’t think anything was broken. The sad yelp of a dog in pain sounded next to him, and he turned his head to see that Buster had landed beside him.

Both slowly stumbled to their feet and got their first look around at where they had landed. A cracked, rubble covered stone floor greeted their view, from what Silas could tell they were in a small, underground room. The only light was coming from a glowing crystal in the corner.

A doorway was placed on the other side of the room, but only bits of rotten wood remained of the actual door. They had landed on a pile of mildew covered burlap sacks, which had probably softened their fall enough to prevent any serious injuries. If Silas had landed on the stone floor, he doubted that he would have survived the experience without some broken bones.

“You okay Buster?” Silas said, kneeling down and giving his buddy a good going over. Other than arthritic hips, something Silas shared with the dog, he seemed no worse for wear, and gave a friendly wag of his tail and licked Silas’ face despite the unsettling location they found themselves in.

“Get away from me!” A voice shouted in the distance. The sounds of a scuffle and the thump of wooden furniture being knocked over sounded out as Silas peeked his head through the doorway.

The doorway opened into long a hallway. There was a dead end immediately to their right, and to the left, the hall continued about a hundred yards to the left where it ended in another doorway. The hallway was a good twenty feet wide, and just outside the doorway was an open stall like a vendor in a bazaar would set up.

A small, green figure floundered on the ground, trying to defend himself against a trio of others that were clawing and biting at him. Silas had no idea what the green guy on the floor was, but he was the one that was doing all the screaming. The trio of attackers were familiar to Silas, it was three more of the little creeps that had trashed his Mustang.

Unlike the ones that had attacked him, these looked much more ragged. None had a weapon, thankfully, and their clothing was torn and filthy. Matted beards covered most of their faces, and despite their frantic attacks, all three of them still had those ridiculous conical green hats on. As he unslung the rifle and pulled it to his shoulder, Silas reassessed what he thought the little madmen were. They were less like Oompa Loompa’s and more like Santa’s elves with rabies.

“Come on Buster, but stay behind me. I don’t like the look of the green guy squalling on the floor, but if those three attacking him are part of the same crew that trashed my car, we’re going to have to sort them out,” Pulling back and releasing the charging handle of the rifle, Silas heard and felt the familiar clack of the M16 loading a round.

Silas also patted his waist to confirm his pistol had somehow survived the odd teleportation thing without getting lost. His preference was the M16, it was more accurate at range, but if push came to shove, the .45 would do just fine. Raising the rifle, Silas got a good sight picture of the closest attacker and began to move down the hallway.

Beside him, Buster growled, but seemed content not to charge forward, which Silas was happy for. The green guy gave a scream of pain as one of the attackers grabbed onto his leg with both hands and bit down hard. Silas was running out of time if he wanted to save the green-skinned guy, an outcome he wasn’t completely convinced he wanted.

“Back off of him, or I’ll shoot!” Silas demanded as the range dropped to fifty feet. He continued to move forward, getting closer as he flicked the fire selector with his right thumb from safe to semi-auto. He only had twenty rounds in the magazine and no reloads for the rifle, so going full auto would be a mistake and would probably also kill the victim that they might be trying to save.

His voice startled the others, but the trio of attackers paused only for a second to take in the new threat before they left the green creature behind and charged toward Silas and Buster. He was done issuing warnings with these creeps and began to fire on the charging trio. It had been decades since he’d fired an M16, and Silas rushed the first two shots, missing completely and leaving 5.56mm bullets ricocheting dangerously off the stone walls of the hallway.

His third shot hit the lead attacker in the shoulder, and the follow-up round slapped into his gut. Shifting aim, he dispatched the second and third attackers with two shots, and two hits center mass. He was rusty, but it was starting to come back to him despite his diminished eyesight.

Keeping the bodies covered with his rifle, Silas approached each one, kicking them and looking for signs of life. He’d seen too many friends killed by a seemingly dead enemy during the war and he had learned to always double check. With the immediate threat dealt with, Silas shifted his aim to the green creature that had pulled himself to his feet and was standing there in the ruins of the stall, gawking at Silas and Buster.

“Woah there, old timer, we got no beef between us,” the green guy said. Silas was able to get a closer look at him. He had a short torso and walked a bit bow-legged. Maybe it was because of the beating, but his nose looked unnaturally large, and his huge, triangular ears were pierced along the bottom with several gold earrings.

“Who, and what are you, oh, and how do you speak English?” Silas asked, keeping his sights lined up on the green guy as best he could.

“I’m Gritvart, but my friends call me Gritty. As far as this English bit, I’m assuming that’s what you call your weird language. Come on guy, you know it’s just the linguistics interface kicking in for both of us…duh,” Gritvart said a bit mockingly. Silas almost shot him, he was tired of being ignored and dismissed, but he needed information, so he’d keep from killing this Gritvart, at least until he gave Silas a better reason to shoot.

“Okay, Gritvart, I remember something about a System language thingy, is that what you’re talking about?” Silas asked.

“Un, yeah, a Linguistic Adaptation Interface, you know, like everyone everywhere has. What exactly are you? Human, or some kind of talking ape? And what’s with the hairy one? I’m guessing it’s a war hound on its last legs, or is that some kind of pet were-beast?” Gritvart responded.

“Linguistic Adaptation Interface, yeah, I think that’s what the System called it. So, I guess that means I can understand other languages now. While that’s kind of nifty, it doesn’t explain what this place is or how I got here. Oh, and as for what we are, I’m a human, and this is Buster, my dog,” Silas answered.

“You new or something? That would be just like my luck, stuck here with an unbreakable contract for another century and the first customer I get is a clueless System noob. That’s fine, Gritty, get ahold of yourself,” Gritvart said to himself, turning away and muttering too low for Silas to understand for a few seconds before continuing.

“Here’s the deal. For whatever reason, the System has linked to your world and chosen you. You’ve found yourself inside the Pit of Bhalkur. This place used to be a hot market for supplies, contracts, and trade. My clan were the most respected merchants on the row. I thought I had made the big times when I was chosen to work here, only to be placed in stasis by the System until you showed up.

“Some great opportunity. This place is a dump, and it looks like the merchant protections are starting to fail. These damn feral gnomes came through the entry poral around the time I woke from stasis, and then you showed up. The System must have pulled too much mana from the protection matrix to power your arrival,” Gritvart said as much to himself as to Silas.

“What is this System thing that’s doing all this?” Silas asked.

“Well, how to explain this. Okay, the System is a massively powerful entity that runs things on worlds infused with mana. Before you ask, think of mana as an energy source that the System is in control of. There are rules involved in the System, which you’ll figure out over time.

“Don’t stress over what the System restrictions are, instead, just focus on getting the most out of it as you can. That’s all any of us can do,” Gritvart tried to explain. Silas was still confused over the whole System thing, but it apparently controlled this place, and he'd have to use the System if he wanted to get him and Buster back home.

“What exactly are you, and you said these are gnomes? Some of them attacked me in my garage last night. They trashed my Mustang and then tried to shank me before I blew them away,” Silas explained.

“I’m what you’d call a goblin. Before you ask, I’m not one of those primitive goblin losers that would just as soon stick you with a spear as talk to you. I’m from a goblin merchant consortium called the Gorma Etvart Enterprises. I know it’s a mouthful, so we usually go by GEE to make things easier. Now that you know I’m just a kindly shopkeeper and not a threat, could you lower that thing?” Gritvart asked, pointing a long finger toward Silas’ rifle.

“Yeah, as long as you don’t try any funny stuff,” Silas said, lowering his rifle, but still carrying it at the low ready position in case of any further trouble.

“I’m not sure where this place is, do you have any idea how I can get home?” Silas asked.

“Thanks for not shooting me bud. It’s not often I get one of those firearm things aimed at me, you don’t see those too often unless someone gets a rare class. A single Tier 0, Rank 0 Fail Weapons spell makes them useless against anything other than mindless creeps like these feral gnomes.

“As far as how to get home, you’ll probably return the same way you got here, through the portal. There used to be a whole slew of them around here before I was placed in stasis. Now, it looks like the portal to your world, and the one to the pit, are the only ones still here,” Gritvart said.

“It’s just an empty room now, will the portal return somehow?” Silas asked as Buster sniffed at the bodies.

“If you got here, it means it still works, probably just needs to recharge if the System’s opened access to this place again. Hey pooch, stay away from the crazy gnome corpse, I can’t be certain about what made them all go nuts, but I don’t want you to catch it,” Gritvart warned. Buster looked at the goblin, then gave the corpses one final sniff before stepping back, almost like he had heard and understood the goblin.

“I guess we’re stuck here until the portal opens again,” Silas said, adding a frustrated sigh at the end.

“At least you’re not alone, you got Gritty and his shop of wonders to keep you entertained!” Gritvart said, waving his arms in a grand fashion toward the ruins of the merchant stall behind him.