Hand Over Fist

Going Home

The Plains of Neroth: a vast expanse devoid of trees that was the remainder of the Great Plains, once heavily populated by humans.  That was before the Great Burn.  The Neroth had been the site of many of URNA’s stockpiled nuclear weapons, and therefore the target of many of the retaliatory weapons that were launched automatically when the early warning systems were activated.  The nuclear devastation, followed by the harsh fallout worked tenaciously to scour any human remains from the great plain.

It was only within the last two hundred years that life finally pushed back the black places of death to begin reclaiming the Neroth.  First came the grasses and the weeds, followed by small bushes and shrubs.  They were followed, in turn, by herbivores of all kinds.  The small ones first, burrowing deep into the ground for protection, then the larger ones.

Last to return to the Neroth had been the predators.  And they were yet scarce upon the land, allowing the plant eaters almost unlimited freedom.  It was to this place that first the refugees of the Imperium had gathered, marking the place where the alliance would assemble, throwing up places of fortification in preparation for the devastation they knew would surely come.

It was upon this maelstrom of confusion that van Joss found himself looking some three weeks after leaving the Golden Kingdom, a heavy sleet lashing to the ground all around them.

“Well, I see Kanid, Tigris and Pantor down there,” Longspear observed quietly as she crouched down beside the lean operative.  She didn’t really expect an answer to her statement.  Van Joss had become even more taciturn after they had left L’nad, not speaking for days on end as he dwelt upon whatever horrors filled his mind’s eye.

“Mostly civilians, by the looks of it,” she continued after a slight pause.  “Their respective militaries must have been virtually destroyed by the Primiad.”

“Or they’re hidden,” Kelly pointed out, kneeling on van Joss’s other side.  The big elf glanced back at Kata and Salina, who stood shivering as they waited for the three to descend from the slight hilltop they had climbed to get a better vantage point.

“Just as our two princesses hide themselves as adventurers to prevent their capture.”  Kelly grimaced.  “We can only hope that the Primiad are somewhat less inclined to wipe out civilian populations than they are military forces.”

“No chance of that,” van Joss suddenly spoke, startling the both of them.  “If they were less inclined, we wouldn’t have well over 200,000 civilian refugees down there.”

Abruptly the lean operative stood, his face stony.

“Now we must go down there and organize those civilians into some sort of defensive force.  Or they will surely be slaughtered as badly as their militaries were.  Come.  We go.”

As the small company approached the mass of disorganized and ramshackle dwellings that formed the makeshift city on the edge of the massive encampment, several dark forms lurched away from the closest dwelling to approach them, weapons raised.

“Halt!” a big Fisted snarled in the Tigris tongue.  “Who are you and what do you want here??”  The big male gave his spear a shake in their direction for emphasis, the others hanging back behind him, looking uncertain as they peered at van Joss and his companions.

Van Joss gave a slight sign with his hand to stop and wait.  He then stepped forward, drawing down his hood.  As soon as his human features were clearly visible, the big Tigris took a startled step back.

“A human??  Here?”  He was clearly surprised.  Then, just as quickly, he leaned forward, his eyes intent.

“Are you the one they call van Joss?”