By far the biggest cowrite of the mission, we get this one courtesy of the third faction!

I don't want to spoil who's in it too much, in case you have yet to read the information somewhere else, so settle in and enjoy. This is really the piece that establishes the new faction for which the mission was named.

 
Konall finished putting on the last of his gear as he readied for battle. Each piece was his personal workmanship, custom made his needs. He stood in a pair of grey-blue boots, made from dyed yeti hide and designed for traction, walking long distances, and kicking in the teeth of enemies. There were still a couple incisors embedded in the sole from such an occasion.

His pants were loose for maximum movement, and made from tough-yet-flexible grey sealskin, tanned with the Bearsmasher ancestral mixture. The pants had a built in codpiece of toughest walrus neck muscle, hardened and reinforced to protect his most vital organ.

His breastplate was made from yeti hide, and dyed to match the boots. Underneath that was a hidden layer of hardened gristle, forged into a plate that would stop arrows and thrusts alike. The armor had been carefully patched and mended countless times, and the various seams added a whirling pattern that somehow seemed to add to the style instead of detract it. They also said, “The person wearing this armor has been in many, many fights before. And he’s still alive. Are you sure you want to mess with him?”

The shirt beneath that was another piece of sealskin armor, with long sleeves reaching out to yeti-hide bracers that were tough enough to absorb multiple sword hits.

Fastened to his waist was a belt, grey bordering on black, that held six hatchets carved from questing beast thigh bones. On his left was a sword, forged from an orca’s jaw muscles. The meat had been folded and reforged ten times, the forging process allowing it to bend slightly rather than break under stress. It had been dried and cured to a strong yet flexible jerky consistency, and glazed with a hard covering that left it a perfectly sharp edge on both sides. It didn't hurt that the glazing also gave the grey meat a near-metallic sheen. Set in the middle of the hilt was a large, cut porquiose with a rich blue color. The hilt was wrapped in sealskin leather turned rough side out, for a better grip, and in the pommel was a meatgem whose cerulean color complemented the porquiose.

Over all of this, Konall wore a grey, sealskin cloak with woven spider silk underneath it, protecting him from arrows and other stabbing attacks. The cloak also protected against cold, intense sun, and pickpockets. He wore it unbelted, so that he had immediate access to his weapons.

Konall stored extra weapons on his back, over the cloak. Today the selection was a bow arranged cockeyed over his left shoulder and angling down to his right side. Made from two dragon ribs and strung with braided sinews from the dragon’s heart, it had a pull strong enough to put an arrow straight through a moose's ribcage at 100 yards, and had done so many times. Crossing the bow was a quiver full of arrows forged from the quills of a roc. These long arrows had most of the fluff shaved off and were straightened. They had the perfect balance of being light enough to fly straight while being heavy enough to inflict serious injury when they got to their target. At the bottom of the container was a gel made from blubber and a few other ingredients, which the arrowheads sat in. The gel was flammable, and could be lit by the wick on the front of the bow, after the arrow was pulled back.

Over both was Konall’s shield, round with a spike on the front. It was a wooden frame over which was stretched a dire walrus hide, which had been dried and hardened. The shield was light enough for easy blocking while surprisingly durable. And it was ringed with a razor edge, meaning it could be thrown like a discus if handled with care.

Konall held his haxxor in hand, part hammer, part axe. The item had a handle of forged meat that ended in a massive weight on the end. The weight was an axe blade on one side, with the top part lengthened out into a pointy tip that allowed the weapon to be used as both a spear and an axe. The blade expanded on the other side into a wide hammer that could crush even a dragon's skull in a single blow.

Atop Konall’s head sat a forged helmet of bar gristle that had been tenderized into shape and then dried and hardened repeatedly until it was as solid as stone. Two black demon horns were attached, one on either side. Konall could use them to headbutt with lethal results, but he had mostly attached them for appearance’s sake.

Just beneath that helmet was a face, Konall’s. And as the eyes on that face looked out over the battlefield, they turned hard. Konall’s mouth was set in determination. His brows were furrowed in concentration. His nose was flared in anger, anger about the brashness of the penguins who sought to take this fort. He stroked his beard, contemplating his next move. The blond hair was carefully trimmed to make sure it was just a bit too short to be grabbed in a fight.

He scanned the path ahead. There were no penguins here now, but there would be soon. They, or their underlings would try to take KoKoL's outpost, no his outpost from him.

---------

Something was expected to happen soon - that much was becoming glaringly obvious to Zed. It had started small and low key; seeing more regular armed patrols between the fort battlements, and getting questioned more thoroughly and with greater suspicion as Zed passed through the gates before and after a wildlife hunt. Then Zed started making a killing in sales of ales and brews to the merchants (not a literal killing, he didn't sell that kind of alcohol). He was told the merchants were frequently getting orders for alcohol as the town guards got off duty ... went on duty ... and ordered out while on duty. Probably meant the warriors were getting testy... What really started the alarm bells in Zed's head was when Zed realized Gail (Awakesun) hadn't asked him if he'd like a brownie for almost 12 straight hours - a remarkably feat considering she made a batch every 20 minutes on the average day.

Okay, so something was going on - it had the guards and the healers anxious and tense, and yet there was nothing to see, either in the distance or inside the fort to the casual viewer. So when in doubt, scout it out; and don't get caught doing so. thought Zed, when he first started going out at night to scope the nightlife and goings-on of the fort. Zed's dark leather pants served him well in most areas, but he swapped his sandals for fitted boots that would make less sound as he moved over shifting tiles and creaking rooftops. Zed's latest tortoise-shell arm guards were his only piece of armor worn: perfect for deflecting blows and arms, yet non-reflective in most light. A simple quarterstaff for combat alleviated lengthy questions from the guards at each encounter, while it could be adapted to facilitate clever maneuvering through heights by a skilled performer or acrobat. And reminiscing about a fond encounter in better times, Zed's alibi for his movements was ingenious in his opinion, and outrageous enough that probably no one would call him on: "Looking for a flying elf; have you seen her?"

Although Zed had confidence that his plan of action would show some results eventually, he was having difficulty recognizing anything pertinent to the heightened atmosphere at the Degrassi regional outpost. Then again, three nights of playing amateur sleuth is nearly every time trumped by an urgent call-to-arms for all warriors and interlopers to defend the main outpost from incoming penguins. It was a bittersweet moment of enlightenment with the sudden news as Zed came in from his nighttime excursion. Upon arriving, Zed was forced to move at his fastest speed to grab his robe and combat equipment in order to keep a pace of the crowd below who went forth to the outpost's defense. The downside? - there was no time for Zed to grab a bite to eat before departing once more from the Weeping Willow. Sleep, he could forgo, but his stomach was a dangerous foe to vex...

-----

Back at the outpost, the half-orc leader of the Fumblies' Command stood in front of the gates in his brightly robed covered armor. The rest of the army was camped a short distance away from the outpost so as not to appear as a threat. Sir Fumblies was on his way to the far edges of the Feline Empire but he had just had an encounter with the Penguin Mafia. While he had no idea why they wanted this outpost he figured it wouldn't be good for them to have it. So he decided to stick around and see what was happening here. He headed back towards where the Fumblies's Command was camped with the Knob Goblin soldiers that were his escort.

The path to his camp took him towards the approaching Konall and his forces.

Konall halted his men. "Fumblies, don't tell me I'm going to start the fighting already. I was hoping to get nice and cozy in the outpost before I started kicking ass."

"Just passing through Konall." Fumblies looked at Konall to judge his reaction.

Konall looked skeptical. "You and your army are just going on a stroll?"

"That is correct, with the intention of getting as far away from 'Queen' Whiteclaw as I can before I let her know where to stuff her orders."

"So you're not with the Feline Empire anymore? I guess I can believe that. You seem like the kind of person who would prefer to stab someone in the gut without lying than do things the sneaky way. What brings you here?"

"Well my resignation has yet to be tendered but I am passing through to Degrassi Knoll." Fumblies gave his explanation while he turned to look around the surrounding area. He felt something near by.

Konall stretched a bit. "What's in Degrassi?"

"People who would support a rebellion against Whiteclaw."

"I'd help you out but I'm in a fight against the penguins. If you want to garrison your troops here, I would appreciate some allies. We handled the zombies pretty well, and I would rather we killed every penguin we can in this fight."

"Sounds like the plan Konall since I have to pay the Consigliere for his insulting attitude."

Zed strode forward from the watch, hands held high as he approached two gentlemen he rather meet across the room. "So as my luck would have it, I have the good fortune of being the messenger, and informing Sir Konall and Sir Fumblies that the fight is poised to start half a mile that way."

Konall turned. "Who are you?"

"Obviously the fool messenger."

Zed directed the gathered forces back towards the succulent penguins gathering at a different point of the outpost. As he led the crowd of warriors, a low growling noise could be heard from Zed's midsection. Most politely ignored the cries from the messenger's rumbling stomach.

Fumblies sent one on his Knob Goblins with orders for his army to join the group.

"Hmm... Taking the fight to them before they attack us. It's stupid and reckless, but also fun. I like it. What's your name, messenger?

"Trying for adventurer name of Shadowrun, but till I join a faction, Zed. Any tips before facing penguin mafia?"

Konall thought. "Penguins are tough. But they usually hire mercenaries for the manly fighting. They prefer not to get any blood on their feathers. So I'm not sure what exactly we're going up against. If you do fight a penguin, rush him. They hate direct fighting." He hefted his haxxor.

"But have no problem fling insults at people. So the question is what are we about to be up against here." Fumblies looked from Konall to Zed then out over the battlefield.

Konall turned to one of his villagers. "Go into the outpost and get the Committee for Drastic and Unnecessarily Violent solutions. Especially Daemon. We need a scout."

---------------------------

 
A lone penguin enforcer sat outside the tent, enjoying a cheap cigar. His feathers were immaculately pressed, and he looked up into the sky to see the bright sun, fluffy clouds, and an arrow streaking toward his chest, followed by a lot more arrows. Before he could react he was turned into a formally-dressed pincushion, but not a dead one.

The penguin shouted a call as Konall and all of the Viking's village warriors came out of the woods, firing arrows ahead of them. The penguin got off a burst from his automatic crossbow and a shout of warning before going down in another volley of enemy fire.

* * *

Konall took his sword out of the dead penguin. He'd have to come back for the pelt later.

Warriors swarmed around him, moving quickly but ready to fold into formation again at a second's notice. But a team of goblin and human mercenaries was already moving toward them. Quickly Konall's people locked shields and formed a battle line, with archers behind raining arrows over their heads, or between them. Konall prayed. "Spirits, guide my men, protect them. Let those who live triumph, and guide the dead to an afterlife of awesomeness."

 
And then the enemy mercenaries slammed into his lines.

The enemies were tough, and they were numerous, but they were not trained. And by coming in ones and twos they were easily struck down. Konall's sword flew about constantly, hacking off limbs and heads as he pushed through to the center of the enemy camp. Suddenly, he heard a familiar whistling sound in the air, like like a thousand quiet birds. "Raise shields," he shouted.

His men were trained enough to respond to his command without question, and they raised a shield wall over their heads just in time to stop most of the rain of arrows that came down upon them. Some of Konall's people were injured, but so were a a few of the enemy.

Konall recognized the arrows and had seen this type of weak archery before. Archers, from the tribe of LaZ. There were likely a horde of them sitting around here. "Keep moving," he ordered.

Konall cursed. Fumblies had gotten the stronger battle, and the lion's share of the fun. After pushing through another handful of mercenaries, he came to a cleared area, filled with chaise lounges, and upon each lounge was a LaZ archer. He knew they were a slow race, unable to move fast but competent in archery. They spent so much time lounging around, they could survive on only a single bowl of oatmeal in a day.

He ordered his troops straight into the unending stream of arrows, their shields protecting their vital organs. Still, Konall felt arrows bounce off his leg armor, and then start digging into his legs. He saw several of his men go down. But Konall pushed forward. His troops washed over the archers like a wave, killing, breaking bows, whatever it took to make sure they only faced death from one direction. As the last of the archers was laid to rest, Konall looked up to see the flapping beasts overhead.

--------------------

At the same time another part of the camp was being hit by the Fumblies Command. The warriors were charging with their swords drawn while the unit's archers peppered the enemy with arrows. This unit's mages all unleashed powerful spells from fireballs and lightning bolts to stink clouds and mud pits.

In the center of it all was Sir Fumblies with a standard bearer carrying the army's war flag. It was an emblem that was well known for being associated with the Feline Empire who supposedly had a deal with the Penguin Mafia. Fumblies wanted his banner seen and in the process the assumptions that would be the result would further weaken Whiteclaw.

Sir Fumblies led a group of his warriors deep into the camps with his sword drawn and the pair of undead skeletons flanking him. He was a force to be reckoned with as the unit's brutes ravaged the enemy. It was carnage and he knew that the three front attack was forcing the enemy to divide their forces.

"Forward. Make me proud and know that you actions here today will one day lead to a Goblin King once more on the throne." These words were spoken by Scarlos, the grizzled war veteran who served as Fumblies Second in Command. Yet, there was more to his words that since he had been quietly seeing Lady Goblina, who was the true heir to the Goblin throne.

As Fumblies lead the attack he quickly saw that his forces were up against Goblins and wondered if he might use this to his advantage. He wondered why Goblins were fighting with Penguins but knew he needed to find out. So he quickly held up his hands signalling for the fighting to stop as he moved forward to find out out who was in charge of the mercenaries.

"Who is in Command here?" Fumblies voice echoed loudly over the battlefield in the after math of the sudden halting of battle.

-------------------

Zed would never admit to it vocally, but sometimes he regretted not learning how to fire a bow, along with the hunting spear. After all, you throw your two good spears into penguin backs, and then what? You've got to follow the Committee for Drastic and Unnecessarily Violent Solutions when they charge. Zed's stomach gurgled once again as he jabbed his spetum through the penguin in front of him, and then swung it round to deflect attacks from the mercenaries under the fallen penguins. All these great juicy birds that looked ideal for seasoning and cooking, and yet Zed was here, fighting for the outpost's survival. It greatly incensed the hungry Ireacan, though his rage paled in comparison to the majority of the Committee who had been aptly named by some poor herald.

"Daemon, just for clarity sake, were the scouts supposed to start the attack on this end? I'm just asking."

"Whenever we see an opportunity."

"Okay; and by opportunity, you mean when one of the guards went for a piss?"

Zed wasn't expecting much of an answer, as he and Daemon took cover from a round of crossbow fire, but Daemon surprised him.

"Opportunity comes once in a lifetime. Will you capture it? Or let it slip?"

"Ah... then dibs on the loot from the two dead penguins here."

"You're learning; also smart not to lay claim on the loot from all three penguins. Back to the fight, new guy."

Zed and Daemon sprung up in sync as the crossbows were being reloaded, and leaped back into the brawl alongside the other Committee members. The small skirmish that Zed and the scouting party members were engaged in was in actuality similar to a gust of wind against a traveller's skin. The real maelstrom of combat saucery, missile fire, and reverberating weapons colliding against armor and shields could be heard further in the distance where Konall's and Sir Fumblies' forces had struck against the Penguins and their gathered mercenary armada. At the same time, there was a higher presence of Penguin mafia members coming to defend against the surgical strike team that the Committee and Zed had become. Zed silently prayed that this meant succeeding where he fought would get the fighters a reprieve if the Penguin Command felt threatened; or else he feared that this would be the start of a prolonged and violent war campaign for the prestige of gaining the Degrassi outpost territory.

Zed swore as his lapse in attention let a Penguin enforcer maneuver Zed into a defensive stance that favored the overwhelming bulk of the heavier penguin. With his polearm held in both arms and his feet braced, Zed had no room to turn aside the blow for a counterattack. Luckily, a passing swordswoman from the Committee for Drastic and Unnecessarily violent solutions spotted his plight, and quickly skewered the penguin through its side. Freed from the standoff as the penguin faltered, Zed jerked his head back then slammed it decisively into the Penguin enforcer's forehead while Cassandra twisted and withdrew her blade from the falling enemy.

"Caught you while you were wool-gathering, eh new guy? Didn't that headbutt hurt?" asked Cassandra, as she took a moment to clean her sword on the Penguin's fitted suit.

"Yes, to first; no, to the second. And the name's Zed, by the way," replied Zed, as he too paused from the fight to massage his sore biceps.

"Cassandra; and I think I'll call you 'new guy' till you survive this. Maybe even later, if you keep getting caught with your pants down."

"Your jaw would be left hanging if my pants were actually down," retorted Zed.

"A sense of humor! Good, I like that in my male slaves." Cassandra laughed as she strode off in search of more Penguins to slaughter and loot.

Zed chuckled softly at Cassandra's parting remark, oriented himself and sprinted towards another hot-spot where the scouting party was engaged. If he played his cards right, he could have another dominating female companion, how thrilling...

A hippie walked out of the base carrying several large pans of brownies. She put the pan of brownies on the ground and yelled, “BROWNIES!” but nobody seemed to notice her or her lovely treats. She summoned wind to her and blew the lovely smell of brownies to the battlefield.

-------------------

Zed was fighting a particularly intense ranged battle with one of the human mercenaries, when suddenly pandemonium surged over the field. This was no emotion-charged rout as a group of warriors turned the tides in favor of one faction or the other; no exuberant display of high-level spell-casting that blasted the opposing army into rumble and small furry creatures. No - the tale that unfolded was the pervasive presence of a smell so awful that few could keep themselves from the primitive, hard-wired response to flee frantically from the assault on their olfactory nerves.

"Oh, triple-blasted camel carcasses, Gail's shown up," was Zed's first response. At least, his stomach was only going through the motion of dry-heaving, and the fight was almost certainly on its last legs now, for all present combatants who had never smelt something so … To be mindful of her feelings, Zed always phrased Gail's body odor as 'disturbing to the balance of one's inner peace,' whenever he had to remind Gail that she simply didn't smell like everyone else and what kind of reaction she should expect from others.

"What the black-bellied mountain goats is wrong with you??!!" was Zed's second response - as his stomach decided that Gail's presence meant he should jog Zed's memory of the fact that Gail frequently distributes freshly-baked brownies. Dense as Zed normally was around women, he also suspected that Gail intentionally prepared her desserts to facilitate some sort of drug experience to consumers; which thankfully Zed was immune to, if he managed to limit his intake to half a dozen. That was an ongoing contest between the two - how many he should take for politeness' sake.

Grumbling at rebellious body parts, Zed tried to quickly assemble a pouch from the tent material nearby and swoop up some fallen loot. When the sack was half-full, he could no longer ignore his stomach's protest; so he caved, trudged against survival instincts that competed with the plans of Zed's stomach, and backtracked Gail's scent to her location. If only he had found something else to eat...

“Finally, someone came over to eat one of my delicious brownies! You can eat an entire pan if you want! There are even more inside!”

"Hi, Gail. Thanks for the offer, but I'm just trying to get something in my stomach before the cooks start breakfast. How about I take 5, and help you pass around the rest of the pans?" responded Zed.

“You never eat an entire pan!”

"I have to watch my weight, Gail. Besides, there's never any camel's or goat's milk around to wash down the treats. Not sure how folks actually drink cow's milk - tastes bizarre to me..."

“You exercise a lot. You don’t have to watch your weight. There has to be something in the base that would go good with my brownies! There is always a different reason why you won’t eat more of my brownies. You don’t like them, do you?” Gail began to be tearful.

"Now, now, you know that's not true. I'm here to gobble some up right now, aren't I? If it will make you happy, I'll try.. 10? This is not the best place to go looking for drinks, Gail. Didn't you notice the fighting, the penguins, and the bodies lying around?"

“I do notice them fighting. That is why I decided to bring out my wonderful brownies so everyone will stop fighting and be happy! My brownies will make everyone happy.”

Zed repressed a sigh, and realized that he had lost the ability to contest Gail's logic long before Gail had even cooked the brownies. As Zed sat down and began to munch on the collection of treats before him, he prayed fervently and silently that this batch would be perfect in the way brownies should be, and not how Gail wanted them. Alas, something stood out at brownie #9. He realized that they didn’t taste like the other ones. It was a garlic brownie!

"Gail? Before I find something to rinse out my mouth, why would garlic make everyone happy?"

“Not all of them are garlic! Only some of them! After they ate the dessert brownies, they should go on to the meal ones! Oh, you started on the new batch! Does that mean you are going to eat the entire thing?”

Zed nodded slowly at Gail, and started once more to appease his friend. Zed promised himself that he was going to eat until he was sick every night and morning, if it would a) prevent future dissent from his ravenous stomach; and B) let him put off sampling Gail's brownies for how long the fates took pity on Zed (best guess? 2 days).

There’s a whole lot going up there huh? I believe that established all four of the starting members of the new faction, too. A nice mix of action and non action, and the finish with Gail and Zed was especially amusing.