Jim the Groundskeeper [Original Fantasy]

[Simonbob]

Yep.

Ego's going to get them killed.

Unless Jim beats seven shades of shit out of them, and then points out he was more dangerous back then, and spent most of his time running, not fighting, and even then? They're going to think they're hard enough.

 

[Metel_Pen]

Jim awoke five minutes before his alarm went off. He didn't move. Didn't think much either. Over the years he'd learned something important about mornings. Thinking was dangerous. Too many thoughts led to too many reasons to stay in bed.

His back hurt. His knees hurt. His shoulder was still annoyed about yesterday's stairs. If he started making a list, he'd still be lying there at noon. So instead he simply lay still and breathed. In.

Out. In. Out. The room remained dark and quiet. The sort of silence that only existed before dawn. Then—

RATTLE. RATTLE. RATTLE. His wind-up alarm began its daily attempt to wake the dead. The obnoxious little thing rattled angrily atop the bedside table. Jim reached over, silenced it, and sat upright with a groan.

Several joints immediately voiced their opinions on the matter.

"Morning," he muttered bitterly. Nobody replied. Probably wise. He reached for the pipe he'd prepared the night before, struck a match, and lit it. The tobacco caught immediately. A warm orange glow spread through the bowl.

Jim took several slow puffs. The familiar taste settled across his tongue while the nicotine began its slow march through his body. His eyes opened a little wider. His joints felt slightly less mutinous. Civilisation had once built empires for gold. Jim reckoned they should've built them for tobacco.

Would've saved everyone a lot of trouble. He stood and pulled open the curtains. Outside the mountains remained wrapped in darkness. Only the faintest hint of dawn touched the eastern horizon. A thin band of pale silver sat beyond the distant peaks. Good.

The world wasn't awake yet. Jim liked that. People tended to ruin mornings. He stood quietly smoking for a few more minutes, watching the Bastion sleep beneath him. A handful of lanterns still glowed along the higher walls while distant watchfires flickered softly in the darkness. Then he dampened the pipe, slipped it into his pocket, and set about getting himself ready.

Half an hour later he stood alone in the main courtyard. Hands clasped behind his back. The stone beneath his boots still held the night's chill. Cold air drifted down from the surrounding mountains, crisp and clean enough to sting the lungs slightly. Above him the sky had begun its slow transformation from black to deep inky blue. The kind of colour that only existed for a few precious moments before dawn fully arrived.

The Bastion was quiet. Mostly. A few distant guards changed shifts along the walls. Somewhere far below a forge was beginning to wake. The faint ringing of metal drifted upward through the mountain air. Otherwise silence ruled the mountain.

Jim stood comfortably within it. He'd always preferred silence to conversation. Silence rarely asked stupid questions. Then movement caught his eye. Rycen. The big man entered the courtyard alone.

His boots echoed softly across the stone. He walked across the courtyard without a word and stopped roughly twenty feet away. Jim gave him a small nod. Rycen returned it. Neither spoke. Neither needed to.

Jim studied him for a moment. Slight puffiness around the eyes. Tiny delay in his focus. Been on the piss. Fair one. At least he'd shown up.

Over the next few minutes the others arrived in dribs and drabs. Some alone. Some in pairs. One still chewing the remains of breakfast. Another clutching a mug of something steaming. Yet despite the deliberately vague timing Jim had given them, every single one arrived before sunrise.

That earned a small amount of respect. Not much. But some. At the very least it meant they could follow instructions. Eventually all six agents stood waiting in the courtyard. The eastern horizon was beginning to brighten now.

A faint silver glow crept over the distant mountains. Still no Jess. Jim frowned slightly. That's unusual. He checked the shadows around the courtyard. Nothing.

No sign of her. Maybe she'd overslept. The thought amused him greatly. Then a voice drifted down from somewhere above.

"What are you waiting for?" Jim nearly jumped out of his skin. His hand twitched instinctively toward the knife at his belt. He looked up. Jess sat casually atop a deeply shadowed parapet overlooking the courtyard. One leg dangling over the edge.

Watching all of them. Perfectly relaxed. Jim stared. The agents stared. Jess stared back. How fucking long has she been there? Jim thought.

The worrying part was that he genuinely didn't know. Judging by the expressions around him, neither did anybody else. Jim cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Morning, Jess!" The woman glanced over from her perch atop the parapet. Without hesitation she stepped off. One moment she was sitting twenty feet above the courtyard. The next she was falling. Several of the agents flinched.

One actually took a step forward. Jess landed in a smooth roll, came back up onto her feet, and carried on walking as though throwing herself off battlements was a perfectly normal way to start the day. Not even slightly out of breath. Jim nodded approvingly.

"Show off." Jess ignored him.

"So," she said. "What's lesson two?" Jim smiled.

"Food." The agents exchanged confused looks.

"Food?" Rycen asked.

"Aye." Jim folded his arms.

"What food are we bringing on this little expedition then?" Jess answered first.

"The standard supplies."

"Which means?"

"Dried meats. Hard bread. Trail rations. Preserved vegetables." Jim nodded.

"Any garlic?" Jess blinked.

"No."

"Right." Jim pointed toward her.

"We're gonna need it." The agents looked even more confused.

"A lot of it."

"How much is a lot?" one of the mages asked. Jim considered. He scratched thoughtfully at his beard.

"Enough that nobody wants to sit next to ya after breakfast." A few chuckles broke out.

"In fact," Jim continued, "I recommend every one of ya starts eating a clove of garlic every day from now until we leave." Jess raised an eyebrow.

"Why?" Jim looked genuinely surprised.

"Lesson one, lass." He spread his hands.

"The ghoulies." A pause.

"The things that want to eat us." Realisation slowly spread through the group. A few grimaces followed immediately after.

"Oh."

"Aye." Jim nodded.

"Trust me. Better to smell like a kitchen than a meal."

"Vampires." That got their attention. Several of the agents straightened slightly.

"The Umber lands are bloody riddled with them." He began pacing slowly. Pipe smoke trailing behind him.

"Some hide in plain sight."

"Others stick to ruins and forests."

"Most prefer the night." His eyes moved across the group.

"But trust me when I say they're there." One of the younger agents raised a hand. The tall blond lad with blue eyes.

"Yes, Bertie?" The agent blinked.

"My name's Rioburt."

"Aye." Jim nodded.

"That's what I said." The group chuckled. Rioburt sighed. Clearly this wasn't the first time somebody had gotten his name wrong.

"We have sun lanterns," he said. "Shouldn't those be enough?"

"Good question." Jim pointed at him.

"See? Bertie's using his brain."

"Rioburt."

"Aye." Jim ignored him.

"The lanterns are a good fallback." He nodded.

"Very useful." Then his expression hardened.

"But what happens when we're hiding?" The room quieted. The humour faded almost immediately.

"What happens when we're trying not to advertise where we are?" Nobody answered. A few agents were already beginning to see where this was going.

"Can't exactly be sneaking around the forests carrying miniature suns now can we?" A few agents exchanged looks. The realisation began dawning.

"Oh."

"Aye." Jim nodded.

"Now you're getting it." He pointed toward the distant mountains beyond the walls. The peaks were beginning to glow beneath the rising sun.

"There'll be nights when we're trying to stay hidden."

"Nights when we don't want every pair of eyes in the forest knowing exactly where we are."

"Nights when lighting a lantern is the stupidest thing we could do." He folded his arms.

"So we need something else."

"Garlic." Jess sighed.

"Garlic."

"Garlic." The agents groaned collectively. One actually looked offended by the concept. Jim smiled.

"By all means, when they come for us at night—and trust me on this, they will come—we can break out the sun lanterns." His smile vanished.

"But I'd much rather have fewer vampires trying to eat us in the first place." The group nodded slowly.

"Garlic won't stop all of them."

"It won't save ya if one gets its hands on ya."

"But it makes us a less appealing meal." Jim shrugged.

"And if the choice is between twenty vampires sniffing around camp and ten vampires sniffing around camp..." He pointed toward the kitchens.

"I'd rather smell like garlic." Silence. A few of them were already mentally calculating how much garlic they were about to consume. Then Rycen sighed.

"Gods, this expedition's gonna be weird." Jim grinned.

"Lad." He looked around at all six agents.

"We ain't even started getting weird yet." A few of the newer agents immediately looked concerned.

"We got any spare iron horseshoes?" Jess blinked.

"Aye." The answer came slowly. Like she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know where this conversation was heading next. Jim nodded.

"We're gonna need 'em." Several of the agents stopped writing. Pens hovered above paper. Rycen slowly looked up.

"Why?" Jim looked genuinely surprised by the question.

"Tooth fairies." Silence. The kind of silence that suggested everyone was trying to decide whether he was joking.

"Excuse me?" Rioburt asked.

"Tooth fairies," Jim repeated. He pointed with his pipe.

"Can be a right bitch over there." The room remained silent. One of the mages cautiously raised a hand.

"Are these actual fairies?"

"No."

"Good."

"They're worse." The hand immediately went back down. A few of the agents exchanged worried looks. Jess simply rubbed at her temples. For hours Jim continued working through the seemingly endless list of things they would need. Weapons.

Clothing. Boots. Rations. Camping procedures. Soap. That one had somehow become a twenty-minute argument.

"No scented soap."

"Why?"

"Because if I can smell ya from twenty feet away then so can everything else." The agent in question had looked mildly offended by that. Jim had not cared. The argument had somehow become even longer after that. By the time lunch arrived most of the team looked as though their understanding of the world had been thoroughly assaulted. Good.

That meant they were learning. A few were already making notes at a frantic pace. Others simply looked tired. Now Jim sat alone in the courtyard while the others ate. A pipe rested comfortably between his teeth while he occasionally nibbled at a clove of garlic. The Bastion bustled around him.

Agents hurried between buildings. Messengers crossed bridges high overhead. Somewhere in the distance a forge hammered away at a piece of metal with relentless determination. The rhythmic clang echoed faintly through the mountain air. Jim ignored all of it. His attention remained fixed on the small leather-bound notebook resting in his lap.

The cover was worn smooth from years of use. Corners rounded. Pages stained. The leather had darkened with age and handling until it was almost black in places. A lifetime's worth of notes crammed into something no bigger than a man's hand. Jim slowly turned another page.

The paper crackled softly beneath his fingers. The handwriting was rough. The sketches somehow rougher. A crude drawing of something with far too many limbs occupied half a page while several notes beside it simply read: Fast. Hates fire.

Don't corner it. Helpful. Jim chuckled softly to himself. Helpful had probably been optimistic. Years ago, after somehow surviving the Umber lands and stumbling back into friendly territory, his commander had ordered him to document everything he'd seen. Everything.

The creatures. The ruins. The routes. The things that hunted the night. The commander had claimed it was for military intelligence. Jim had believed him.

Mostly. The old officer had been a decent sort. One of the few who listened more than he talked. Unfortunately he'd been killed a week later before Jim ever finished the report. So the report had never been handed in. Jim had simply kept adding to it over the years.

Every rumour. Every story. Every encounter. Every nightmare. The notebook had become less of a report and more of a survival guide written by a man who didn't entirely trust his own memory. In the Umber lands, forgetting things had a habit of getting people killed.

The notebook had slowly become something else entirely. A survival guide. Or perhaps a warning. Jim turned another page. Then another. A sketch of a vampire.

A note about avoiding old wells. Several pages dedicated entirely to things not to investigate. That section was surprisingly long. Probably the longest section in the entire notebook. Footsteps approached. Jim looked up.

Jess was crossing the courtyard toward him. Immediately he knew something was wrong. The concern on her face gave it away. Jess wasn't prone to worrying. Which meant when she did worry, people generally paid attention. She stopped beside him.

Jim closed the notebook.

"The timeline's been brought forward," she said. The humour vanished from Jim's face instantly.

"How long?"

"Thirty-six hours." Jim stared at her. Then slowly removed the pipe from his mouth.

"Thirty-six?" Jess nodded.

"More intelligence has come in." Jim already disliked where this was heading.

"What kind of intelligence?" Jess folded her arms.

"The Umber Empire is aware of the Magister." A pause.

"And they're aware of the Legion." Jim swore quietly.

"Fuck."

"It gets better."

"No it doesn't."

"No." Jess sighed.

"No, it doesn't." She looked toward the mountains. The distant peaks seemed much colder suddenly.

"They've started searching too." For several seconds neither of them spoke. The bustle of the Bastion continued around them. Messengers hurried across bridges. Guards crossed the walls. Somewhere a forge hammer rang out.

None of it seemed particularly important anymore. Jim could already feel the entire mission changing shape. Before they'd been hunting a mystery. Now they were racing another force to it. And the Umber Empire had one advantage he didn't. Numbers.

Lots of them. Jim exhaled a long plume of smoke. The grey cloud drifted away on the mountain breeze.

"Fuck's sake." The words carried far more exhaustion than anger.

"That complicates things." Jess nodded.

"Aye." Jim looked down at the notebook resting in his hands. Thirty-six hours. Not enough time. Not nearly enough time. There were still lessons he wanted to teach.

Mistakes he wanted them to avoid. Stories he wanted them to hear before they crossed the border. Then again... Nothing involving the Umber lands was ever simple. Or fair. Jim stuffed the remainder of the garlic clove into his mouth.

The taste was as unpleasant as ever. Sharp. Bitter. Persistent. He chewed anyway. Surviving wasn't always glamorous.

A moment later the six agents came filtering back into the courtyard carrying mugs, half-finished meals, and various expressions of concern. A few had clearly noticed Jess's arrival. Others had simply sensed the change in mood. Jim swallowed.

"Right then, ladies and gents." The group gathered around him. Conversations died away almost immediately.

"Seems the week we had has now become a day and a half." That got their attention immediately. Several heads turned toward Jess. Nobody looked particularly pleased. One of the mages actually lowered his mug halfway to his mouth and forgot to finish the drink.

"Thought so," Jim muttered. He pointed toward the Bastion.

"Lessons are done for now." A few eyebrows rose.

"Get your kit sorted." He pointed at Rycen.

"Weapons checked." Then toward one of the mages.

"Supplies packed." Another agent.

"Any personal business dealt with." His eyes swept across the group. Making sure every one of them was paying attention.

"Because I reckon we're about to get briefed proper." Jim looked toward Jess.

"Am I right?" Jess nodded.

"Aye." The courtyard grew noticeably quieter. Reality settling in. This wasn't training anymore. This was happening. The mission had suddenly become real.

"Right then," Jim said.

"Relax while ya can." A few of them looked confused. Jim pointed toward the mountains beyond the Bastion walls. The distant peaks sat cold and silent beneath the morning sky.

"Because believe me when I say this is the last time you're getting the opportunity until the job's done." Silence. Nobody argued. Nobody laughed. Above them a figure appeared atop one of the high battlements. Lady Dalanev.

Even from this distance she somehow managed to look like she was carrying classified information. Perfect posture. Perfect composure. Perfectly intimidating. She peered down into the courtyard. Her eyes found Jess.

Then she nodded. Once. Jess looked back toward Jim.

"Well." She folded her arms.

"There was your rest and relaxation." Jim sighed.

"Shortest holiday I've ever had."

"Time to get briefed."

"Aye." The agents began gathering their things. Mugs disappeared. Notes were collected. Conversations became quieter. More focused.

Jim was about to follow Jess when he stopped.

"Oi." The group paused. Six pairs of eyes turned back toward him. Jim stood quietly for a moment. Choosing his words. The humour had vanished completely now.

Then he spoke.

"Just one thing." The courtyard fell silent. Even the sounds of the Bastion seemed distant for a moment.

"The most important thing I've taught ya so far." Nobody moved.

"Avoid fights if ya can." His voice wasn't joking now.

"I know what all of ya are." His eyes moved across the group.

"The peak of your trades." A nod toward Rycen.

"Warriors." Toward the mages.

"Battle mages." Toward the others.

"Agents." He shrugged.

"True-born heroes or whatever fancy title people like to stick on folk." A few smiles appeared. A couple looked faintly embarrassed. Jim didn't smile back.

"But what we're walking into isn't the plot of a bedtime story." The smiles faded. His voice grew quieter.

"It's a nightmare." The morning wind tugged gently at his coat. A cold breeze drifted through the courtyard carrying the scent of stone and mountain air.

"The aim of this job isn't glory." A pause.

"It isn't heroics." Another pause. The agents stood listening in complete silence.

"It isn't making songs for bards." The agents listened carefully now. Nobody looked amused anymore.

"The aim is simple." Jim folded his arms.

"Stay alive long enough to do the job." His eyes moved across the group one final time. Lingering briefly on each face. Young. Capable. Confident.

"And get home." Silence. The words hung in the cold morning air.

"That's it." Nobody laughed. Nobody joked. Good. They understood. Or at least they were beginning to.

Jim nodded once toward Jess.

"Right then." Jess stepped forward immediately.

"Briefing room." Her voice echoed across the courtyard. Sharp. Professional.

"Ten minutes." The six agents dispersed quickly. Each heading off to gather equipment and prepare themselves. Boots clicked against stone. Conversations remained brief and subdued. The excitement from earlier had faded.

Now there was purpose. Jim watched them go. For a moment neither he nor Jess spoke. The courtyard suddenly felt much larger. Much quieter. The reality of what was coming settled heavily between them.

Beyond the Bastion walls the mountains stood silent beneath the morning sky. Waiting. Finally Jim looked over.

"Shall we, lass?" Jess nodded.

"Aye." Together they turned and headed toward the briefing room. Toward the mission. Toward the Umber lands. The last traces of dawn stretched across the mountains behind them as they walked. Ahead lay stone corridors, maps, plans, and difficult decisions.

Beyond those waited something far worse.

 

[Metel_Pen]

Yo, there'll be a gap in uploads. I've just heard there won't be another Mass Effect, and due to this personally devastating news, I'll be replaying the entire trilogy while drinking.

Once I've taken Earth back and recovered emotionally, I'll post the next chapter.

 

[Simonbob]

Yo, there'll be a gap in uploads. I've just heard there won't be another Mass Effect, and due to this personally devastating news, I'll be replaying the entire trilogy while drinking.

Once I've taken Earth back and recovered emotionally, I'll post the next chapter.

Click to shrink...

Ok.

We'll see you after you mourn. And the hangover, of course.