Cannon Wizards
BOOM!
"RAAARRRGH!"
Borgrug roared across the field in pleasure as he watched the latest shot slam into the herd of deer that had just stepped into view. Heh. One more meal for free!
And now the human female was yelling at him. Sigh. "-realize how dangerous that was?!? It could have exploded, caught fire, or broke! Then what? What would you have done if you had broken my prototype!"
Borgrug sighed at the screeching lecture the cow was yelling at him. It was times like these that made him miss the mountains. Life was simple there, kill and eat pretty much summed it up.
Of course, being the runt of the litter meant that he was probably going to be killed and eaten. That was why he had run away to the Empire in the first place. Being a mercenary in different parts of the Empire hadn't been all that different from the mountains to be honest. Most of the human commanders had been lees than interested in what their ogres were doing. Ogres were ogres and that was that.
Then he had joined the army of Ostland. These ogres had been weird! They didn't have the hunger, or at least not the proper version that he had. They had formations instead of just wading in. The commander was just unnaturally smart. Like shaman smart or something. And finally, they had been set to guard the cannons.
There, Borgrug had learned of magic. Sure, the shamans had their pots and stuff, but he had never seen anything quite like the cannons. For the first time, he was totally in agreement with his commander: he loved those things. For his guts, the cannoneers were the real wizards of the battlefield.
And nothing he had seen had changed his opinion. Sure, magic-users had killed almost as many enemies as the cannons had, but they hadn't made more food for him! When they had marched against the Norscans, all he had to do was wait till the battle was over and go in the general direction the cannons were facing and start eating. It was great!
Yeah, hadn't been that way in the Plague War, but even there, the halflings had set up behind the cannons, meaning he had been the first in line for the food after a battle! Now that was MAGIC!
Much better than the shamans, fucking food thieves that they were.
Them bad luck had hit. In the last battle against the Plague Bastard, he had taken a hit from a full on rotter. The thing had managed to tear off his leg at the knee, leaving him hobbled. He had killed the thing, and survived the battle, but...well, ogres had a tradition about cripples.
They were the victory feast.
But, again, the strangeness of the locals had shown through. Not only had he not been eaten, they had actually healed him! They even gave him his calf and foot back! Healing and food? Things were weird here!
But good. Course, he had figured he would have to work on a farm or something to make ends meet, since a peg-leg was worthless on a march. It had been one of the worst days of his life. Being eaten, those were just the breaks. Never being able to feel the boom of a cannon again? That was hopeless.
Once again though, cannons had provided. He had gotten an offer from the new school for gunners-since he was a runt, he could be the person to test their new "ogre cannons". The theory was, since ogres came in a broad array of sizes, he would show them exactly how large they could make the cannons and still count on ogres being able to fire them in the field. He was being given food to fire cannons!
Life was good.
"-and most importantly, how did it do?!?!" Borgrug grinned at the human cow, seeing and mirroring the familiar religious fervor in her eyes and smile. They might fight all the time, but there was one thing they agreed on without thought. Cannons were god, and they were all their loyal priests.
And by the Cannons, if any fucking food-thief shamans tried to make him worship the fucking Maw again, he would show them the power of real magic. Blackpowder and iron!
