In the Wake of Greatness

Corporal Grono plucked the dagger from the tanuk’s eye socket and held it up to the light. Congealed blood and flecks of rotting flesh spattered the hilt. She shrugged and tossed it into the sack Private Bulcher dragged along the marshy ground.

“Anyways, as I was saying…” Grono continued. “I got great luck with the lads, and the ladies too, as a matter of fact. Cos I got these romantic tricks, see? I calls them my ‘ways to woo’.”

Bulcher’s brow fell back into its default setup, a confused frown and he asked, “To who?”

“No, to ‘woo’,” Grono replied.

“To me?” questioned Bulcher.

“No. To ‘woo’.” Grono countered.

“Is you making owl sounds?” asked Bulcher.

“No ya twit! To ‘woo’!” Grono exclaimed. She sighed and continued, “It means to, ya know, charm someone.”

“Ohhhh…” Bulcher’s simple smile began to battle for dominance across his face. But his frown was an experienced fighter and quickly took back control. “I’m not sure you should be messing wi’ charms and magic and that,” he offered.

Grono’s own brow crumpled into a mirror of Bulcher’s, and she was about to reply when Sergeant Dana Alyara shuffled into the conversation like a waddlefowl approaching a saurian-infested watering hole.

“So… troops. How goes the salvaging? Discovered any, er… interesting artifacts?” asked Dana.

Grono whistled through her teeth, “Sorry Sarge. I know you’ve got your heart set on some illuminite. But they’re real tightfisted them blessed protectors. They’ve not left a single holy relic behind.”

“Got plenty of militia stuff though, Dana!” Bulcher offered. “Got some nice pikes wi’ only a little bit of domjot guts on ‘em.”

“Well, that’s good to hear, Private” replied Dana. “But do remember it’s Sergeant when we’re on the field.”

Bulcher’s face fell, and he kicked at a solitary eyeball on the ground, “Sorry, Dana.”

Dana opened her mouth to reinforce her instruction when a loud groan interrupted her.

“Sarge, you alright?” inquired Grono.

“Erm… that wasn’t me, Corporal.” replied Dana.

Grono and Dana both looked at Bulcher, who was pointing at Dana’s feet.

“I fink you’ve stood in a jot, Dana.” offered Bulcher.

The Sergeant looked down to see the mangled fangs of a domjot warrior wrapped around her boot and a pair of surprised yellow eyes, staring up at her. Another muffled groan escaped from beneath the sole of her boot. Dana jumped back in surprise, and the domjot’s head, followed by the rest of its body, came with her.

“Arrgh! Get it off!” Dana screamed.

Grono and Belcher sprang into action. Unfortunately, these actions consisted of Belcher tripping over the sack he was dragging and Grono diving behind Belcher so as to use him as a human shield.

Dana began to hop around the marshland on one leg while trying desperately to shake off the half-dead domjot with the other. With eyes as wide as a slogoroth’s gut, she glowered at Grono and Bulcher.

“What are you doing?!” yelled Dana.

“Tactical retreat, Sarge!” yelled back Grono.

As the domjot’s teeth bit deeper into her foot and Dana continued to hop and shake her legs, in what in any other circumstances would be considered quite the impressive dance, all Sergeant Dana Alyara could think was, ‘I can’t believe this is happening again.’