The night of Brockton Bay was disrupted by what could be mistaken for thunder. In one of the older neighborhoods, an explosion in the sewers had manhole covers for nearly a block being blown into the air. There were a couple more blasts before things fell silent. It didn't take long for Brockton Bay's first responders to arrive on the scene along with some members of the Protectorate.
There were a few minor fires that were easily extinguished, and a late night crowd of bystanders gathered, curious what was going on. It was then a number of small reptilian creatures began exiting the sewers with alacrity, running up to Miss Militia.
"What's going on, sergeant?" she asked the slightly singed and injured kobold in charge.
"There's a troll down there ma'am," he reported. "I think we got 'im, but we'll have to wait for the air to clear before we go back in to verify."
"What'd you use?" Miss Militia asked, dreading the answer.
"M3 MAAWS, HE warhead," the kobold answered, "along with Hagnar blasting it with a
Fireball. The idiot's crazy, but he may have done the job."
"Dare I ask where you got one of those?" Miss Militia asked.
"Empire armory," the kobold answered. "There were two bunkers down by the docks missed, nearly everything in it was from the US or Canadian armed forces. And we did have someone check serial numbers – everything was listed as destroyed."
"I'd like a copy of those serial numbers, if you would."
"Already given to Andraste, ma'am."
"Something down there's moving!" Dauntless shouted to everyone present.
"Ma'am?"
"Yes, sergeant?"
"Can your Power make a flamethrower?"
"Haven't tried, but I've got something nearly as good." Her Power-created knife shimmered and became an M32 MGL. "And yes, they're all incendiary grenades."
Just then something that looked like a foul smelling ambulatory burnt roast came up through one of the manholes and screamed its rage at everyone.
"Everyone get clear!" Miss Militia yelled as she brought the MGL to her shoulder and took aim. The kobold readied their weapons, making a quick check of their magazines. Dauntless, the firefighters and police officers all moved back, the firefighters sheltering behind their trucks.
The creature lurched towards the kobolds and Miss Militia. She responded by squeezing the trigger and with a "whump" sound, the MGL fired, and the incendiary round buried itself into the creature's chest cavity. "Three, two, one…" Miss Militia counted as the severely charred figure staggered backward. There was a barely heard sound, which became an inhuman scream as the grenade detonated and the creature began burning from the inside out.
Walking up to the remains after the flames had died down, she looked at it, with Dauntless nearby. "What was it?" he asked. He sounded somewhat ill, despite having been through some of the worst actions last year between the Empire, ABB, and Merchants.
"It's called a troll," the kobold sergeant said. "Not the ones from your fairy tales. Mean things, they keep healing and regrowing and coming at you unless you burn them, sometimes a lot. Heard tell of one coming back from just the head, another from a hand that crawled away. This one took an M3 HEI round, followed by a
Fireball and several
Firebolt cantrips. You have to keep burning them until they die."
"Well, this one ain't moving anymore," Dauntless stated. He still refrained from prodding it with his arclance. "We'd better let the fire department do their jobs." Not having waited for the heroes' approval, firefighters were going around with extinguishers, putting out the few restarting small fires down the block.
When the PRT clean up crew arrived, Miss Militia went over to them. "Take all your normal measurements and pictures. The remains, however, are to be treated with nitric and sulfuric acid until only sludge remains. The thing is a strong regenerator, and very hostile. Fortunately, it's not sapient. Until it's officially classified, treat it as a violent Biotinker construct."
"Understood, ma'am," the squad leader said. "Set up the tub, we're gonna need it."
= = = = = = = = = =
"You want to do what?" Carol asked Amy in a fashion most unlike her past questioning of her adopted daughter – specifically, in a calm, even tone of voice.
"The PRT has two lamia in custody. By their own admission, they're maneaters – I checked, they're addicted to human flesh so badly that's all they can eat without going into severe withdrawal symptoms, and then we have a pair of hungry, mindless lionesses out hunting people.
"While the practical solution would be to feed them some of our overabundance of criminals," Amy continued, "there are so many things legally and ethically wrong with that we'd need a whole panel of lawyers and Thinkers to list them all." Amy shrugged. "So, I want to try an experiment: To use my Powers to make non-living human flesh and see if that meets their requirements. If it works, then I'll see if I can come up with – under PRT supervision – a plant that can grow them meat. It's the same thing I do to regrow limbs for people by using extra biomass."
"I understand all that," Carol answered. "I even gave permission for you to do the work, but I appreciate hearing the details. I want to hear from you why you
want to do this."
To Amy's surprise, the question was delivered in a calm manner, instead of the outraged bellow that would have occurred eight months prior. "Because one of them doesn't want to eat people anymore, and wants to be a part of society, not preying on it. The other will probably need to be imprisoned. Either way, they need something to eat while we – the PRT's researchers and I – figure out a better solution. Otherwise, it will end in a bloody mess."
"I agree," Carol said, quietly. "And no 'Who are you, and what have you done with Carol?' cracks, please." She sighed. "I agree with your reasons. While we did tell the PRT what you could possibly do, it speaks well of you that you stuck to healing and the occasional experiment with flowers. Sarah still has one of your smiley face roses."
"Lasted longer than I thought it would," Amy noted. "I want to help the one who wants to become a part of society. If that means coming up with an alternate source of human flesh, as disgusting as that sounds, so be it. At least until a solution to the 'it's addictive as hell for them' problem can be solved."
"Right now, I don't want you to put too much thought into it," Carol said, getting up from her chair. "It might put you off helping with dinner."
"Yeah, if anything would, it'd be that. So what are we having?"
"Last of the tuna," Carol answered. "It's taken us seven months to eat through that one hundred and forty pound chunk of fish your admirer gave you."
"It'd've been gone immediately if we'd remembered it when I was molting."
= = = = = = = = = =
Taylor was looking at the cots that occupied one part of the basement at her house. There were about a dozen injured kobolds laid out, being treated for injuries when they got attacked by some creature that tried to use them for snacks. None of the younglings, but there were nearly as many females as males, which gave her unpleasant suspicions about what had happened.
"How is everyone, Elba?" she asked the somewhat matronly elder female of the warren.
"You and Nern have gotten them stabilized," she said in a weary voice. "They'll make it. I'm wondering where these things are coming from."
"I am, too," Taylor said. "First those stirges, then Mizuchi's gibbering mouther, owlbears, reports of this green slime stuff… Something's going on. Anyway, is there anything I can do for you while I'm down here?"
"We could use some food, if you can spare it," Elba said. "We'll have to get some more for the warrens."
Taylor nodded then concentrated. At her feet a cask of fresh water appeared, along with some bread, cheese, fruit, vegetables, and cold meat. "This should help. If you need some soup or broth, let me know."
"You're so generous," Elbe murmured as she bowed. "This will be more than enough. Everyone should be healthy enough to eat solid food. Some soup, that chicken and rice was really good, would be good tomorrow."
Taylor nodded. "I'll see what I can do," she said, kneeling down to be closer to eye level with the little kobold. "You guys are kind of my responsibility, so it's my job to help take care of your needs."
"Again, you're too kind," Elba added. "I need to get this served. If I need anything else, I'll let you know."
- - - - - - - - - -
Danny looked at his daughter as she sat staring at her cup of tea. "Penny for your thoughts?"
"I've got another batch of injured kobolds in the basement," Taylor answered. "Nearly a dozen." She looked up at him. "Is this how being in charge and responsible feels?"
Danny nodded. "Especially when they look up to you. Most of them have a pretty high opinion of both you and Andraste, and think they have it pretty good, even with the current troubles."
"No more shoggoth sightings?"
"No," Danny admitted, "but The Docks have always had some weirdness going on. Like old Mavis, one of our stores clerks? Turns out she's a mermaid. Her mother married her father while he served in Australia in World War Two, and they moved here after he got out of the Army in the fifties.
"But yeah, this is what being responsible for the welfare of those under your care is like," Danny finished. "Fortunately, you've got help in that area, though I don't know
who. I was sitting in the kitchen and all of a sudden a flat containing six food service cans of chicken and rice soup appeared."
"Well, I'm not going to let a gift like that go to waste," Taylor said. "So thank you, whoever it was."
Her phone played its incoming message jingle. "Anon161803 says 'You're welcome,'" she read. Then another message came in: "Winged_One says it wasn't her." Taylor growled a bit. "Precogs are bullshit." When another message came in, this time it was from
Dinah. "Weaver says there's a 98% chance I'm right."
At the sound of her father's chuckles, she looked at him and scowled. Had there been a potted plant in the room, it would have burst into flames from the intensity. "Sorry, Taylor," he apologized. "But those three have been trolling the entire city of late. As the results are helpful if simultaneously frustrating, I suspect the complaints are filed away for 'future reference'. Assuming they even get reported."
"I'm gonna turn in for the night," Taylor stated. "I've got one more phone call to make, and maybe I can get a lead on what's causing creatures from bad fantasy and horror movies to crawl out from the sewers."
Danny nodded. "I'll see you in the morning, Little Owl."
- - - - - - - - - -
It hadn't taken long for Taylor to fall asleep, and she soon found herself in the dreamscape by the lake. Matching her troubled nature, the environment looked like a storm was blowing in. It hadn't taken long for Sonngrad to join her.
He gestured, forming a cabin out of the dreamstuff. "It would probably be better if we held our discussion in there, what with this storm approaching."
The cabin had a couple of chairs, and a cheery fire going in the fireplace. Sonngrad closed the door and latched It securely. He chose a chair and sat down in it, gesturing for Taylor to do the same. "You had some questions?"
"We've recently had an uptick in very unfriendly magical encounters," Taylor grumped from the chair, "And I can't understand
why."
"For most worlds that have magic, they've had it for so long that the world is saturated with it, and certain forces are balanced against each other. So the residents have not only adapted to dealing with such things, but eclipses, full moons and changing of the season don't have a pronounced effect on monsters in general. They have some influence, but nothing like what's happening now.
"This world's magic however, is newly recovered," he continued explaining, "and those events I described will have a more profound effect. As summer moves towards autumn, there will be three days where things will be perfectly balanced, light versus dark, nature versus abominations, good versus evil, growth and decay, and life versus death.
"Balance, borders, and transitions are significant to magic. They're opportunities."
He paused as he poured a glass of water out of the pitcher that was on the table. "After the equinox, things will get darker. More horrific creatures will hunt the dark corners of the city. It will be stronger here than most places, because this is where magic is the strongest in this world."
"So, we can expect more monsters and horrors?" Taylor asked as she poured herself a glass of water.
"Up to a certain point," Sonngrad said. "Certain creatures require a high level of ambient magic to survive, and this place doesn't have it. It might never have enough; it's difficult to tell before saturation. Most of the people who've tried to summon a devil or a demon failed because they lack the ability to work magic. Those that do have the power to summon a fiend usually don't, or are very surprised when it does work. And then the summoned being can't stay because of the low level of ambient magic.
"One good thing to keep in mind is that certain menaces are kept at bay by My Lord's and Tiamat's presence," he added. "They stay away because of a healthy respect for the evident power of My Lord and your Lady. It also helps that this world has strong defenders of its own."
Sonngrad leaned back in his chairs. "Things will probably get worse as we head towards the winter solstice, but it shouldn't be too bad. Certainly not worse than the gangs were."
"I hope those aren't famous last words," Taylor mildly snarked.
"More like my expert opinion," Sonngrad answered. "But your point is taken: Don't tempt fate."
