My Players Are So Fierce

1257: 425.

The Wolf People ferryman on the Styx River will be called Hog starting today.

1257: 425.

The Wolf People ferryman on the Styx River will be called Hog starting today.

The undead in Smugglers’ Forest were already rampant.

This was not a recent phenomenon.

Ever since Hog had made connections with the Pestilence Clan, this particular “strategic resource” had been growing at a terrifying pace in Smugglers’ Forest.

With the arrival of teams of Plague Warlocks and Necromancers from Pestilence Town, the ratio of Wolf People and undead in the area occupied by the Bloodclaw Clan had reached an astonishing 40:1.

It’s a good thing that the undead didn’t need food or rest, otherwise the logistical efforts alone would have been enough to overwhelm Hog and his clanspeople.

So many mouths could have chewed through every bit of bark in Smugglers’ Forest from end to end.

Nevertheless, these were not easy times for the Bloodclaw Clan, as the large gathering of the dead had caused the concentration of Death Psychic Power in the vicinity to skyrocket.

This cold power of the deceased was an oppressive force for the living.

While intelligent beings could fight back with courage, the more sensitive wild animals wouldn’t be so bold, causing a massive escape from the forest and making it difficult for Hog’s hunters to capture enough game.

Thankfully, a previous deal with Crimson Castle had allowed Hog to stash a large amount of food at a secret location, which had kept his clanspeople from starving during these tough times.

But this couldn’t go on!

Living off stockpiles was a threat no insightful ruler could accept, especially someone as clever as Hog.

He could clearly see the threat of continuing this way.

And it wasn’t just him; nearly all the commanders of the Bloodclaw Clan saw this problem.

“Chieftain!

We need to make them leave immediately!”

Hog’s most trusted subordinate, Nash, spoke with a worried frown to his chief:

“Our hunters haven’t caught any fresh meat in four days.

Even the dumbest deer are fleeing from the undead, en masse to Lake Xiuerpres.

I’ve sent people to fish, but we Wolf People aren’t good at it.

If this continues, we’ll starve to death.”

“Spiritual Energy!

Filth!”

Standing on Hog’s other side, the Gnoll leader Gold Teeth, leaning on a “luxurious bone staff” adorned with candles, stuttered:

“The presence of evil spirits is altering the Spiritual Energy!

Our forest will be contaminated and spoiled, we must, we must drive them out!”

“Those damn magicians are digging up the cemeteries where our clanspeople are buried, Hog,”

The Barbarian Soldiers’ leader, Martel Dumber, also yelled, waving a Wolf People club:

“They even plan to turn our fiercest Barbarian Soldiers into bones.

This is unbearable.”

“Shut up!

Everyone, shut up!”

Seeing the other leaders eager to offer their suggestions, Hog suddenly shouted:

“Listen to me, you fools.

Bear with it a little longer, just two more days and they will leave.

I will personally lead them out of our precious forest.

Nash, did you find the route I asked you to?”

He looked at his subordinate.

Nash immediately unfurled a self-drawn hide map before his chief like offering treasures.

Pointing at several marks and crooked paths on the map with his sharp claws, he said:

“We pass through here!

Chief Hog, this route bypasses the Transia People’s outposts on the hills.

We cross two tributaries under cover of night and sneak into East Prussia, and from the landing point, it’s just a maximum of three hourglasses’ walk to the Ceylan People’s outpost.

There used to be a lot of people there, but that Dwarf Marshal took the soldiers from there to Transylvania, so the number of soldiers there has significantly dropped.

I sent some fearless hunters to scout.

Some Wolf People who had fled from Transylvania were also lurking in nearby valleys.

Our hunters have made contact with them.

They were badly beaten by the new recruits of the Exploration Corps, and as soon as they heard reinforcements had come from the Dark Mountain Range, they immediately agreed to guide us, knowing where the good stuff is nearby.

All we need to do is take those damned magicians there and we won’t have to worry about them.

Our brethren there will deal with the rest.

But now the problem is, isn’t Tear Flesh Chieftain insisting on us not escalating the war?

His magicians won’t just obediently listen to us.”

“Pfft, who needs them to be obedient?”

Hog scoffed at this:

“I concede those magicians are strong, but so what?

It’s their first time in Transylvania, they don’t know the way.

Wherever I take them, they’ll have to follow.

The most important part is that our ‘friends’ will arrange everything.

Don’t worry, I assure you that those ‘noble’ and arrogant magicians will have no choice but to take this path.

So, get ready.”

The Blood Claw Chief looked at the map before him and whispered:

“I will lead them out tomorrow, and before I return, keep a low profile.

We are currently friends of the Transia People.

But the Ceylan People won’t recognize us so quickly, so be prepared!

If they want to flex their muscles using us poor local Wolf People rather than daring to challenge the formidable Wolf People of the Dark Mountain Range, then show them a thing or two!

Let them know that the Bloodclaw Clan is not to be trifled with.”

—

Time quickly passed, and soon it was the execution time ordered by the Tear Flesh Chieftain.

Amidst the nighttime darkness of Smugglers’ Forest, Hog rode his Throne Wolf, leading a dozen clever hunters and Barbarian Soldiers at the front, while behind them followed three thousand Wolf People of the Skeleton Army.