Chapter 31: Chapter 30

Whatever they did to her after she passed out, they kept doing to her the whole ride back, since the next thing Estaria knew, she was jolted awake by being dragged off her feet and forced into a convey of chained slaves. Out of the ship and onto a dock, the place they were brought too was small. So small she could see the walls of the village from the docks. Maybe a dozen buildings in all, a crudely dug pit for fights and a group of a few hundred Druchii.

Broken Supply Lines - Too far into enemy lines, you have been cut off from your men, and can not summon them until supply lines are reestablished or you move closer to your own lands

Religious Oppression: In the land of an enemy God, your God’s touch is far away and can give you no succor. Negate bonuses from God’s blessing

Great. Not only did she lose so much strength her body had slimmed down and returned to a slender form, but she couldn’t summon her troops either. This was going terribly. She was going to have to wait for her Critical Wound to heal up and then do this the manual way, it seemed…

It was cold, too. But, not as cold as she expected. Braizers and a large body of active people kept the ambient temperature above zero, so while it was far from comfortable in the rags they had dressed everyone in, it wasn’t something that was going to cause any real damage to be out in. Unless you caught the attention of a particularly mean-spirited denizen, of course. 

 

Dragged along into an abutting office attached to a much larger room, the Druchii at the front spoke to a fat Druchii sat behind a desk, apparently half asleep. A captive sat on his knees, collar chained to the desk and arms tightly bound behind his back. The reason or use of this one was not immediately apparent, but given the limited mobility, it was probably just some petty cruelty. 

 

They started speaking, and Estaria dropped some points to learn their language, and follow the conversation.

“What do you want me to do about it?” the fat one asked.

“These are Slaves. You are the Slavemaster. Take a guess” the other exclaimed, exasperated. 

“It’s too early for that. Just put them in the main hall” the fat man dismissively wove his hand.

“It’s Noon!” the other shouted, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Like I said. Too early. Now put them in the main hall” the fat one repeated, leaning back on his chair and shaking his head.

Clearly, the fat man was in a position that couldn’t just be stabbed in the face, because despite it being clear the other Druchii so wanted to do that, he did not, and just dragged them into the Main Hall, with a yank so hard the front man nearly fell over. 

 

This Main Hall was rambunctious, like a large tavern crossed with an administrative center. A whole host of slaves scurrying around fetching and carrying for the Druchii. Petty, childish torments were played on them while they worked, making it just that little bit harder, and clearly amusing the Druchii from the laughter. When the new slaves entered People looked over, whistling cat-calls and hurling insults at them as they were dragged through the hall into a back room. 

 

“Alright” the Druchii exclaimed in an accented Reikspiel once they got into a preparation area and a few slaves were set to unlocking the collars attaching each slave to the next. “So your job is basically whatever you are told to do. The cuffs aren’t hard to unlock and it’s a straight shot from here to the gate, so feel free to escape whenever you want. The more of you who get out of here, the worse the report for the Fatman. You have your own gathering area to plan revolts, and nobody watches the cutlery so feel free to steal as much of it as you want to arm yourselves”

 

Estaria listened to the man and just….stared for a few moments after he finished. She had no idea what to expect, being here, but someone pointing out all the ways they could throw off the yoke and rise up against their oppressors was…certainly not among what she was expecting. From the grumbles and solemn roil of emotion that came from this group, a revolt was absolutely going to be a thing, given they were military veterans with long histories of violence. The Druchii really did screw up picking that ship to turn into slaves…

 

Then the guy just left, and they really were tasked to just mill around and do as they were told. No order, no substance, no regime. She knew this place was a small hamlet with a dock, and they were probably just waiting to be transferred inland, but even still, this was just sloppy. She could kill every one of them as soon as her Critical Wound healed, and then steal a ship and go home. They couldn’t exactly have predicted that one of their slaves was a superhuman demi-god, but that was just the nature of the world. 

 

So to get her bearings and find where she would be going, where Druchii would come from and where, she did her job. Carrying plates of food and mugs of ale, dragging freight and delivering messages. The Druchii here didn’t live up to their reputation, being more bullies intent on laughs than the legendary torture they were known for. Tripping a slave and having them get covered in ale was the height of hilarity, it seems. She imagined these Druchii the thugs and dredges of society, kept far away from others.

 

Estaria decided the best way to get through the days would be just to fade into the background, do as she was told, and wait out her wound. This didn’t go so well because A few hours into her work, the Corsairs who boarded her ship finally barreled in. One of them recognized her, and pointed with a loud exclamation.

 

“Oi, ain't that the broad who knocked Marak sparko?” 

“Haha! I saw that, the girl just went bang! And he was done! And then grabs a sword and goes to fight Rudus. We should get her in the Pit” another exclaimed, slamming his tankard on the table. This, certainly made fading into the background a lot harder. Something needed doing to make them question if that was really her. And while she hated to use the good memories of Elaine in this manner, it’d be trouble if she didn’t. 

 

Plus, chances were the Arena would be against her men. The Greatswordsmen had been quickly dragged off elsewhere, and she’d hate to be forced into a bare knuckle brawl with them, of all people. So adopting her meekest, most servile look, she just gave them puppy dog eyes the like that fired Elaine’s blood. 

 

It stopped them immediately throwing her in The Pit, and question of if the Corsair took a blow to the head were asked. Three days, she needed to keep this up, and then she’d be free of them all. So she simpered and scurried and did all her work to make herself look the least threatening. 

 

The service to these louts was much like being a Tavern Maid. They were brutish and couldn’t keep their hands to themselves, made demands, shouted and threw things, made cat-call propositions and generally just acted the way Es thought they should. Slowly, ale and meat became more important than the possibility of this woman being that woman, and conversation changed to another topic. 

 

Just to be sure, she avoided the gathering area she had been told to go to for the revolt, did her best to speak the way Elaine had made her, and on the second day even started to try and interact with their flirting and cat-calling. She did not need any acting skills for the awkward nature of that particular part since it was fully and completely real. 

 

The actual interaction, regardless of how stammering, got her a lot of popularity, and quickly the Druchii started to actively call bullshit on the idea that she was anything more than the Captain’s Maid or some shit. Fatman must have stolen the actual woman, because this mewling kitten would struggle to kill a Snotling. 

 

Of course, nobody here could just call out a lie politely, and it had to get violent. Brawls were started about it, Names called, Linages insulted; all the attention for her was actually a little flattering. She’d had people fight with her before, but never for her. Of course, chances were that she was just an excuse and these guys started fights for sitting in their seat or using their plate, but still. 

It was strangely comforting, being around these Druchii. That feeling of distance and disdain she felt with the humans, that made every conversation a chore and every word picked properly so it wasn’t tainted…It was muted around those of Yellow naming, and gone altogether around the ones with light orange. Druchii were a lot more powerful than your average human after all, and louts or not, these were Corsairs, so it stood to reason they really knew their way around a knife. 

 

She felt better connected to these Druchii than the humans she had come with, which was a worrying thought. No doubt it was the reason why she could play her part so convincingly. The best lies wore a coat of truth, after all. Money was pooled to buy her off the slavers who were coming at the end of the week, and arguments about who would own her. Some wanted to keep her communal, and others wanted her for themselves. More brawls, more flattery, and Estaria started to question if an escape was actually something she needed to do. Maybe it would be better to just ingratiate, play along, be the bimbo. If she could get them to take her out to sea, unchained and within arms reach of a weapon…well, that just solved the whole problem without an issue. 

 

By the third of the three days, the Druchii had escalated in their confidence. No longer just making calls to her, they were having her sit with them, feeding her from their plate and…treating her kind of like how you’d treat a pet, actually. It was extremely demeaning, her blood boiled, the plan of keeping these fuckers around went way out of the window, and she just about squeezed through the last day with nothing more than a few sloppy, forced kisses and wandering hands. 

 

Her mood was not at all helped by the fact that her once-allies who had come with her quickly ignored her. They saw her as abandoning them, and joining the enemy without hesitation. She was shunned during the daily feed, nobody talked to her, and everyone went out of their way to avoid being around her. That, she thought, was fine, they were strange beings she had to put in work to relate to anyway, so she didn’t mind them being less present. They weren’t her men, after all. They were just lucky enough to be the same race as her, she had no obligations.

 

From the suspicious eyes and quick darting away when she was near, they were clearly planning something and they didn’t want her to find out and tell someone. Fortunately, they didn’t do anything rash, and by the fourth day, the day she got the pop-up that her Critical Wound was healed, their revolt had yet to explode. So she would do the exploding for them.

 

You are reading story Re-Re:Hammer at novel35.com

Heading out into the Main Hall to get into the position she had spent the last three days scoping out, one of the men intercepted her, and when she tried to duck around him, he pushed her against the pillar.

“So, when are you going to start using that tongue for something better than talking?” he asked, a coy grin on his face. For her part, Estaria would lift her hands and showcase the manacle and chain. Then, with a rapid moment, she would part them, straining against the chain for a few seconds, and then huffing.

 

“Ok, so apparently I am not strong enough to do that. But” she would then skip one foot up to give her the space to drive her knee into his crotch, and smash his skull in with her own. The man collapsed like a sack of shit, and she turned to the stunned group with a blazing fury.

 

“Three days I’ve had to put up with your shit!” she exclaimed, the crowd turning from shock at the wild plot-twist, to mild amusement as she snapped. Estaria, seeing nobody was taking her seriously, stepped on the man’s chest and alerting the people that she wasn’t messing about by crushing in in a grizzly showcase of physical strength. Might not be iron-shattering yet, but bone, was clearly something she could do. 

 

The amusement turned to confusion as they tried to wrap their heads around what just happened. And just top to everything off, one of the Druchii got stabbed in the throat by a fork. It was the signal to begin, and the Marines and Veteran Swordsmen burst into the room to take the Druchii by surprise. A few casualties were caused, before the Corsairs got over the confusion and pulled their weapons, starting to wreak a bloody toll on the slaves. 

 

Estaria wasn’t ignored either, one man swinging a blade at her that she caught in her manacles and tied up, twisting his arm and then dragging him in for a vicious headbutt that ripped most of his luck away. Her dexterity and agility weren’t great given the restraints, so he managed to slip away and recover. None-System luck was on her side as the weapons the Corsairs used were much better quality than the manacles, and his strike had taken a gouge out of one of the links. Trying her chain snapping maneuver again, they yielded this time, and she took the advantage of him being momentarily off balance from hitting her Luck and punched him with all her force in his sternum. Bone yielded, and he fell backwards, giving Estaria time to grab his sword and cut off her leg chains.

 

Pissed it had taken so much effort to kill one fuckin’ Druchii, she turned to the hall and saw that it was going very badly for her friends. This it seemed, would be why they wanted the slaves to revolt. So they could have some fun butchering them rather than having to just see them get shipped off. ‘Nothing we could do mate, slaves pulled out all kinds of weapons, had to put them down’

 

So, showing them how it felt to be on the receiving end of that, Es let out a cry that buffed her ‘men’ and then grabbed one of the nearby steak knives, throwing it at a Druchii with no Luck left. The blade sunk straight in, to the hilt, and his opponent took the opportunity to gouge his eye out with a fork. She’d then get into the thick of the fight, splitting their attention and fighting the Druchii. They were agile like she was, though not as strong or as robust, allowing her to cut into them, as the Swordsmen pushed from their angle. Death was better than slavery, was their thoughts.

 

Backed by her system’s skills, Estaria pushed the Druchii into the soldiers who were fully down to give their lives for a single debilitating blow. Eventually the overwhelmed and under equipped Druchii would drown in the bodies, the blood slicking the floor and the dead making the footholds difficult, allowing the humans to overwhelm them with wild, suicidal tactics. In the end, the fifty Druchii in the hall were dead, and there were some twelve slaves left out of the two hundred who had started this fight. Poor odds, given how there were thrice that number outside. Where they were was answered a few seconds later when the door burst open and a dozen Druchii with Repeater Crossbows filled the room with Bolts. 

 

Estaria was quick enough to avoid them, but the remaining slaves were cut down in the hail. Running up one of the wooden beams, she’d push off, flipping to the second floor where she burst into one of the rooms and slammed the door shut. A moment of reprieve, she opened her inventory. 

 

In the chaos and the fury and the emotion, she hadn’t thought to use her inventory. And hadn’t put her Greatsword or Armour back in it before she got captured, so all that was left was Ulric’s Fang, Giant-Drenger, and her wild stockpile of bullets. At first, she thought to just hold here and use her cool to blow everyone away as they arrived, but then another thought occurred. Time in Dungeons passed the same as Time outside, and she wasn’t around physically when it did. Nobody noticed, sure, but it was still the fact that she wasn’t there. 

 

Cracking a smile, she bought a D-rank dungeon key and used it, getting transported into the Dungeon, where she simply sat down at the edge of the map and took a breath. She was hurt, her Luck depleted and her health some 12% down. But there was good news, as she got two level ups from that massacure, her Stolen Soul really paying for itself. Pushed her over to getting a new trait as well.

 

Summon traits were useless right now, and she needed something to help her deal with the Druchii easier. Scrolling through, she eventually came across one that worked very well for her. 

 

Great Sword, Great Woman - The Greatswords are the peak of infantry, and so train forever to maintain that title. +10 to all Stats

 

50 Constitution: Sturdy Skin - fierce fighting has grained you the ability to survive more wounds than the average person. gain 10% Armour that stacks with worn armour.

 

50 Luck: Lucky Glance - A good toss of the dice, a respectable flip of the coin, and most importantly, an unstable footing for your foe. An attack that causes your Luck to deplete will not roll over onto your health

 

50 Intelligence: *Trait unavailable due to no Magic*

 

50 Wisdom: *Trait unavailable due to no Magic*

 

She wondered about getting magic, but that was for later. For now she just sat back and waited. This trick of hers wouldn’t work if she had anyone to protect, and so it was quite the solo only thing. But saving her from more Critical Wounds was something she’d accept gladly, niche or not. 

 

After a few hours, when the sky darkened in her dungeon, she quit and returned to the real world, where she bought herself some steel vambraces and a breastplate, just to even the odds. The stench was revolting, so she quickly clambered onto the window sill and jumped off from it, clearing the low fence and rolling into the snow beyond, she’d turn and flourish Ulric’s Fang, heading back into the village. For the second time today, the Druchii were caught off guard and lost several heads before they realized it was a fight, and then several more before realizing the sword that Estaria was using didn’t much care for being blocked. 

 

The fight was fierce, and Estaria threw in some bullets at the guys trying to hit her with Crossbows. Her new stats and traits helped push the book in her favour. Weight of number had a quality of it’s own, as the Druchii in the Main Hall found out, and Estaria was stripped of her Luck, though her health diminished slowly due to her Sturdy Skin and high stats allowing her to mitigate and reduce blows. 

 

It was an elegant and fierce dance, with Estaria using much of her Cool with Second Slices and Quick Loads. While starting combatants, the Corsairs here were not used to fighting a being that matched or even exceeded them. They were sloppy, footwork and bladework designed for fighting lesser beings. Estaria was glad, because she probably wouldn't have won if they were serious and took training properly.

 

Eventually however, win she did. Some of them took to the tundra rather than try fight her, and she was not so stupid as to try run people down in such a hostile environment, at night, while pretty tired from the slaughter. Three more levels were gained from this though, and so she flicked the blood off her sword and put it back in her inventory. In the morning she’d go out into the Tundra and try find somewhere less active. Druchii had to have civilian populace, right? Couldn’t have the entire society on the back of slaves exclusively…

 

But, the world was cruel, because just as she was readying to find a nice shack for the night, someone spoke behind her. 

 

“You are enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

Hex Successful

She’d..been hexed? By the new voice? Spinning around, she saw terror and awe before her. Hackles rose, eyes bulged and her body locked up with fear. The hell kind of monster just walked into town?!

Taller than anything could ever be, more beautiful than Estaria could comprehend, the deep blue eyes pierced through her like a bolt. The dress, subtly designed to be just revealing enough to entice without ever giving you more than a hint. It was almost like her new plans had grown a body and appeared before her. She was such a presence that Estaria almost missed the red nameplate above her. 

Filnon Darkfury - Level 43 Dancer Of Khaine

 

Estaria quickly drew her sword and held it in two hands, furiously fighting back against the urge to flee. Greatswordsmen did not flee. Still, she couldn’t help but remember how the last Player fight when, and she was in prime condition, prime equipment, and Zarh was below her level. She was going to die. Fuck, fuck, she was going to die. No time to get a Dungeon Key, and being a Druchii that high level, no doubt this one was faster than she was, so no point running away. Still, when death was inevitable, one just had to face it. So tightening her grip on her sword, she prepared to do just that.

You can find story with these keywords: Re-Re:Hammer, Read Re-Re:Hammer, Re-Re:Hammer novel, Re-Re:Hammer book, Re-Re:Hammer story, Re-Re:Hammer full, Re-Re:Hammer Latest Chapter