id: 406
name: The Tale of a Wayward Waffengeist and an Anon - Archival Version
author: Cas
date: 5th June 2021
text len: 134108
views: 84

The Tale of a Wayward Waffengeist and an Anon

Archive – 4binz Ver.
Created 6-5-2021 from the Google Drive last updated 5-29-2021
Foreword

Yes, this is a collaboration between two writers who passed writing back and forth; the story was originally posted onto the K Fantasy General thread sometime ago. This is a singular compiled version of both our writing put together; the second compiled version. Originally it was being Archived on pastebin, for ease of posting and sharing, but it would seem pastebin has recently (December of 2020) privated any paste they deign to not be worthy of public viewing, even if it was already set to unlisted. This background is necessary to understand the formatting in the writing, most of which has been preserved as it was when posted. Posts were originally numbered but since I’ve had to compile these once again, I initially made a new compiled version on Google Drive, with cleaning up of the posts and extra formatting to help distinguish either writer’s parts without breaking the immersion of the story with numbers (no one has complained bout the formatting so far), though I’ve added labels to the rough “parts” of the story. This is the previously hinted at pastebin alternative archive, though the google drive archive(s) may persist and continue to be updated.
Updates may take a bit because our writing is maintained in separate documents on separate machines, and also because real life. 
the discord group (or are new to the group, whatever the case is you get the point).

Finally, last point of importance; this is the COMPLETE Archive, meaning that this version is not limited to parts posted in the thread.

Part 1: Meeting

>I was once a wonderful thing.
>I once was a powerful thing.
>Far from the pile of shambles that I am now.
>I remember when I came into the world; I remember my first user, and my first target.
>I remember first being deployed to the wide desert of the south to apprehend murderers
>The cratered, muddy hellscape of the Great War
>The humid, sun-blasted shores of the Pacific Islands
>The corpse strewn hills of Korea
>Even Vietnam
>Any of those trials were better than the last year and a half
>at least I think it was a year and a half
>I can’t remember, too dark
>When I was retired from service, I remember the place I went
>so many others of my kind
>many smiths, and kind and caring
>and then the user they handed me over to
>my user
>...
>so many years ago
>when I was handed over to him
>and then the event happened
>they called it “convergence”
>I awoke, fully, for the first time
>he decided to crossover, and I was happy to be a part of another adventure again, in the hands of a caring
and skilled user
>but I forgot how these adventures usually end
>those years in that caring place made me forget
>what a fool I was


>be me
>be kommando in fantasy land
>be a milsurp larper into all american classics
>be not dead yet
>probably because I don’t really fuck around with dangerous adventuring
>nope.avi
>instead I settled down in one of the border towns, and became a worker under a dwarf/human gunsmith
business
>I do whatever they want but they give me quite a bit for free so meh
>mostly being sent to go scavenge guns off of dead people for them to flip and sell
>half suspect part of their willingness to hire a guy with out of date guns and give me free stuff is to just
collect my stuff when I die to sell
>never question it, or how they know where dead people are
>also despite being hired for being able and willing to shoot I’ve never actually run into any real danger
>Iwouldn’tworryaboutit.mp3
>today the job is to go into a local cave
>”what’s in the cave?”
>”Some goblins that are feral and mostly harmless”
>mostly
>ok then
>”You’re looking for the corpse of a fat moron who bought a lot of imported parts to trick out his guns”
>”fancy guns?”
>Aiden, the dwarf, huffed
>”no, this is what you would call a “bubba.” Moron would buy things but install them himself; also
modified his guns”
>oh
>it’s that kind of job
>the “imported parts,” custom parts and attachments, they are all made back in normalfag world
>this makes them more valuable than guns at times
>”what should I do with the guns then?”
>”you can bring them back, but they’re all gonna be more trouble than they’re worth. You can keep what
you like, just bring back the imported stuff.”
>okie dokie


>I don’t know who took my user from me
>or for what reason they took him from me
>does it ever matter? How many times have I taken someone else’s user?
>all I know was that it was someone else with another tool like myself
>how strange, even in a world such as this war remains the same
>I wept beside him for many days, alone in a strange land
>then he came
>he isn’t deserving of the title of user
>I don’t know how he talked me into going with him
>all I know is that it was a horrid mistake
>it didn’t matter that he didn’t know how to be a user
>or that the accursed attachments he forced on me were never appropriate or used correctly
>I wasn’t good enough
>and the modifications began
>more like mutilations
>I was too heavy, so he cut down my guard and stock
>then I needed “rails,” so the lazy cretin could slap more shit on me
>he tried replacing stock wholesale
>thank god for that gunsmith refusing, and him not knowing how to do anything
>...
>except for the “magazine” and “bolt” mods

>stupid bastard
>his hubris was his doom, fucking with my bolt
>he came here, to use his new fancy night scope
>blamed me as usual, for his non-existent skill, as I strain to contain the round
>weakened from his improvement, wasted on his little green monkey hunt
>one last insult
>"I swear if I miss this shot, I’ll replace the stock and the barrel”
>no more
>I give in, my bolt flying back
>whether I did it or simply let the round do it, or if my lock failed, I still don’t know
>but the result was certain
>detonation out of battery
>the low quality cartridge explodes, sending the fragments of itself and part of that accursed scope into
the cretin, freeing me from his abuse
>...
>I sat stunned for a while
>not sad for him
>he was nothing like my user
>soon it was just sitting


>so I go to the cave on my quest
>I decided earlier to bring along my big bag o’ holding
>technically it’s Aiden’s but I’ve already talked about getting free stuff
>the hills at the edged of the valley have many caves, and people avoid them for the most part
>they aren’t dangerous, there just isn’t anything in them
>just winding, ashen passage ways from when they were lava tubes
>save for a very few feral goblins, but the ones here are skittish as fuck
>hold on
>I stop outside the cave marked on the map and look around
>how did this guy “go missing” down here?
>the caves don’t intersect, and they might wind around, but they’re just single passage
>they aren’t even that long
>I look around the cave entrance and the little ravine I stand in outside it
>no tracks, it doesn’t look like anything lives in the cave here
>birds are still singing and making noise in the morning sun, so no spooky shit
>hmm
>Aiden has never put me on a job where I was in danger before
>hell I’ve been to sites where there were still orcs and bandits in the area before
>so why does it feel so weird, standing outside this cave?
>I look down the entrance in silence for a long second, before deciding to ignore the feeling
>”fuck it, Aiden said bubba was a fatass” I mumble as I put a headlamp onto My trusty M1 (helmet)
>”maybe he got stuck”
>as I walk in what I just said sinks in
>”OH fuck me I swear to god...”


>I’ve sat here in silence for a long while now
>hard to count the passing of days when there is no sun
>just darkness
>I know time has passed though
>in spite of the pain from the malfunction I feel the cold air
>the cold moist air, and the fluids from the decaying husk of the fool that brought us here
>from it my parts that rust become blemished further
>the wood of my stock has also started to decline

>even in death the bastard still seeks to harm me
>I sit, in the dust of this tomb in the earth alone, with nothing but my memories
>and as such I sit recounting them, trying to relive them
>always to come to this point, this place
>running in a circle
>but what else am I to do
>often I tell myself it’s better this way
>adventures never end happily, only bittersweet
>if even that
>all those times, the Argonne, Iwo Jima, korea
>yes we were happy to come back, but those times left their scars on us
>even in Vietnam, I did not do much but it ended so terribly
>even with my dearest user
>even with all our happy journeys...
>...
>and we come back to here
>full circle
>why must it be this way
>why can’t I go, go to the place my user went
>when users die people talk about... the light?
>in this darkness I can picture anything, a black canvas
>I see it in spite of the dark, the light
>a small point at first, but slowly getting larger
>I realize it is getting brighter as well
>brighter than the sun of Guadalcanal
>is this what it is like for the users? To go into the light?
>is this it? can I finally be free...?


>15 minutes into the cave, I’m pretty sure he isn’t stuck
>the cave is high enough to walk in, fairly wide too
>that’s good, no corpse removal job
>unlike that one time up in Haelex
>fuck that was terrible; why would you try shoving a guy down an out house, and why would you throw
the guns in first
>the thought makes me shiver
>goddamn it’s cold in here too
>just hurry up and find him
>the brass on the floor tells me I’m getting close
>the many different casings make me anxious though
>was he fighting a battle or something?
>Then I see it
>A change of geometry from the round passage of the lava tube
>a big bundle of something along with some jagged angles
>a dead man surrounded by his gear, you never forget that shape
>there’s also the fact that even though he’s covered in the ash of the lava tube, the color of his clothes and
gear stick out in the twilight gray world of the cave
>I put a cover over my face and approach slowly
>god he smells
>guy has 3 rifles and two sidearms, all covered in attachments
>some AR-15 pattern weapon, with rails upon rails of attachment
>a poor levergun tacti-cooled to the point I can’t tell what it is
>and a boxy thing
>is this a WA-2000? Or a copy? I know some people over here made copies
>it has a foregrip and like 5 scopes, and a 30 round mag
>what the fuck

>even his pistols have ‘stendos, foregrips and scopes
>fuck it, into the bag they go, I’m not taking stuff off here
>I look at the fucker, and notice his rig and bag
>take those too, thanks
>I look at his face
>holy shit he has no face
>well more like a bunch of holes
>then I notice that he’s holding something under him as I got those off
>a rifle; one that looks familiar
>I pick it up to see what rifle lay under the massive fuck off scope and attachments
>”Oh fucker, this poor 1903!”


>The light climaxes to it’s highest intensity, then shimmers, hovering in the dark
>yes, finally
>I close my eyes
>I feel the weight of the bastard lift off
>I feel my broken body get lifted up
>finally, I am free of this miserable place
>"Oh fucker, this poor 1903!”
>wait what
>I open my eyes
>the light is still there
>but, it’s not the light
>oh that’s a lamp
>...
>wait
>a-another one?
>the person now inspecting me comments on the mutilations and tumors of the bastard with...
>...disdain?
>and seems to pity me
>I consider showing myself to him... talking to someone after all that time
>all that time of silence and contemplating the cycle
>the cycle
>no, I won’t
>I am not doing this again
>this man can take me from this tomb, but I will not embark on this cycle again
>I will feign dormancy, yes
>and he can try using me, yes
>but no more will I fool myeself into thinking happiness can la-
>I get slung, gently over his shoulder as he,
>what is he doing? I can’t see so well anymore
>I find myself next to another rifle
>not another of the bastard’s victims, but
>a Garand?
>a Garand!
>how has time been to you, replacement
>"What a way to welcome a friendly face; what’s stuck up your barrel?"
>I’m not sure at the moment. I will, get back to you when I figure out whether my bolt still locks
>"That does seem a tad bit more important, though as a whole you look like shit"
>Yes. I never would’ve guessed I look like shit.
>"Hey, at least you have a magazine now; maybe you could get a modern action next and not be
obsolete!”
>smug little bitch.


>I look over the Springfield, mentally cataloging all the things bubba had done to it
>cut down guard
>welded on canted sights
>welded on “bipod”
>welded on fucking rails so that he could ad on more shit
>I shit you not there were three scopes on this gun
>why?
>maybe he was using the rail on the side to “store” them?
>what the shit
>the centerpiece, of this travesty, was a 6x night vision scope
>or rather 2/3s of the scope, it looked like it was blown off
>I notice that the bolt was back, and the breech looked burnt
>put 2 and 2 together; dumbass fucked with the lock, bolt and or receiver enough to cause bolt to be
forced back while it was firing
>the resultant shrapnel went into his face and fucked him up
>I think for a bit
>doesn’t quite make sense, bolt-actions don’t usually have the issue of out-of-battery
>I’d check the bolt more, but a dark cave isn’t the place
>I take another glance at the springfield
>something seems odd about it
>I think about my collection
>I don’t have a Springfield, maybe...
>I sling it over my shoulder
>It’ll be a pain in the ass to rehab, but hell, I like a project
>and after all, I know a couple gunsmiths who’ll do it for free
>sorta
>double check the bubba for any more goodies and make my way out of the cave


>it’s been a while since I’ve been slung over a shoulder
>this user had a familiar outline
>even the clothing and...
>...rigging?
>it’s familiar
>where have I...
>"Hey are you listening?”
>oh
>the garand is still talking
>What? What do you want?
>"calm down, I was just asking what happened to you? And wh-”
>The dead man back there happened to me
>"o-oh, and.... ....was he your us-”
>NO
>he is not a user, do not call him such
>”...”
>"I see he was one of those then”
>we sit in silence for a bit, before the garand speaks to me again
>"well, our user isn’t like that”
>our
>what do you mean ‘our’
>"well, he put you back here and not in the bag. If he’s just going to sell other guns he puts them in a
bag.”
>...
>"plus you’re his type, he likes collecting old ones like us”
>...
>impossible
>like anyone would want to collect me in this state
>"well ours will probably restore you”
>please, restore.
>"yes really restore you!”
>that remains to be seen
>”...”
>...
>"well at least we know you still have your cleaning kit, because I don’t know what else is up your butt-
stock”

>I’ll ignore that in favor of regaining my train of thought
>what was I thinking about
>the user’s kit
>I think hard, and in the darkness finally have flashes of memory
>at the end of the grueling pacific we got the new thing
>M1945, that’s it
>but no there are bits of M1910, it’s not matching
>but when did it ever match, or was complete-
>a blinding flash
>not a memory, sun
>how long was it since I saw the sun
>I take one last look at the accursed cave I was taken into by the cretin
>on last look at his tomb
>goodbye you bastard, you will not be missed


>”Well you got back, finally. What took yo-”
>Aiden stops as he sees the 1903 over my shoulder
>”...so long.”
>he sighs deeply before continuing, he already knows what I’m going to ask for as part of my payment
>”fucking hell, let’s see yer haul before we look at yer new project”
>”Yep, here we go-”
>we head into the main backroom of the shop, where we dump out the contents of the bag
>He curtly sorts out all the stuff, grunting and scowling
>not because it’s a bad haul, but because of how much it’s worth
>”yeah I remember this guy. Fucking wonder how he even got all this stuff”
>he sighs. I smile a big shit eating grin
>”alright lad what gun have ye decided to take in”
>his frustration and anticipation is evident in his sliding back into his “dwarven” way of talking
>I unsling the Springfield and put it on the adjacent workbench
>”Needless to say, but you can keep the attachments Aiden”
>he’s stunned for a good minute before he picks it up
>”gods lad I know ye like to take them in but this-”
>he thrusts it forward a bit to emphasize
>”this be a bit far gone, don’t ye think?”
>”I don’t see why not, if the bolt is good. At the very least I know you have a set of furniture for it”
>that gets a dirty glance
>”Why do I let ye look in the stores? Eh, what happened to the scope!”
>”I think he had an accident”
>He looks back at me incredulously
>”Do ye think?”
>looks back at the scope
>”what a cretin, this thing cost a great sum of gold-”
>”for him?”
>”well yea, but I can’t resell it now can I?”
>”look can you just inspect the bolt Aiden?”
>he grunts an affirmation out and looks over the bolt
>”strange, it’s still good-”
>he looks over the chamber and reciever
>”How did it fire out of battery if everything is all go-”
>he stops, staring at some point on the side of the bolt
>”oh, that may be it-”


>we arrive at a new place
>familiar
>the lights, the smells
>reminds me of the place so long ago where there were many of my kind
>no
>this is a place in my memory
>I know, this is where the cretin got this accursed scope
>my vision is improving I think
>'so he is here to sell me then’
>"No, this is where he takes us to get fixed too!”
>that Garand is still insisting that I am not to be sold but restored
>ridiculous
>the user and another familiar voice
>the one who sold this shit scope
>they take us into a back room, where the user dumps the contents of his bag out
>"See he isn’t putting you on the table”
>’...’
>”Alright lad let’s see what gun ye decided to take in”
>wait
>what
>The user unslings me onto a rifle stand, where I am not so shortly picked back up by the shop owner
>"gods lad I know ye like to take them in but this- this be a bit far gone, don’t ye think?”
>wow, thanks I needed that
>I think on this while the shop owner laments the scope, but the user insists on him continuing to evaluate
my condition
>the small man works at my bolt and inspects my chamber and receiver, him and the user speculating on
the nature of my malfunction
>he’s close enough I can see he is a dwarf
>so he must be a craftsman as well,
>and as we’re in a gunstore, he must be a gusmith
>great, I guess I am going to be restored
>fine, go on I don’t care
>I’ll just pretend to be dormant, I’m not doing this again
>"oh, that may be it-”
>what
>the user comes over and the dwarf points to my mark
>oh
>goddamnit
>NO.


>I walk over and Aiden points to the side of the bolt, where there is an engraving
>part of it I can’t describe, some runes
>but central to it is something that looks like a combination of the US Military service mark and the seal
of the Board of War and Ordinance
>suddenly the bolt slams shut, hiding the mark
>”oh my, do ye know what this means lad?”
>”uh, no”
>Aiden looks at me with a weird expression
>something between bemusement, befuddlement and smugness
>”of course ye don’t.”
>he turns to the adjoining workshop
>”HEY DAN, WE ARE IN NEED OF YER EXPERTISE!”
>?
>”we’re going to need Dan for this, he will explain”
>”I certainly can!”
>we both jump at the surprise of Dan having somehow gotten behind us
>Dan is weird
>He always was dressed in khakis and a polo shirt, but also a wizard hat
>imagine Iam McCollum but with longer gray hair and beard
>about as knowledgeable too
>not sure if he was a fantasy human or regular human
>all I know is that he dealt with more of the magical, enchantment stuff
>no sooner did he appear did he have the 1903 in his hands, his eyes shut
>”hmmmmmmmm”
>Aiden spoke first, I was still a bit too confused
>”What do you think Da-”
>”Quiet down a bit- not you Aiden I mean the rifle”
>what.gif
>”I think, she is recoverable, physically, but will take a bit of convincing to be anything more than a plain
rifle”
>I finally vocalize my confusion with a quiet ‘what’
>Dan opens his eyes
>”Well Anon, you see, this rifle isn’t just a plain rifle, but what most would refer to as a ‘waffengeist,’ an
active one at that.”
>”a waffengeist...?”
>”Well yes; after a very long and significant service history, such as the one this gun has gone through,
guns gain a sort of ‘spirit’ to them, and through processes too elaborate to go through here, they can be
‘awakened’ into service.”
>”I- I know that, but if it’s a waffengeist then, shouldn’t they take the form of a woman or-”
>Dan raises his hand to cut me off for explanation
>”The thing is Anon, they can materialize that form at will- this also means they can choose not to do so.”
>he places it- no, her on the rifle rest
>”This 1903 in particular, while she is certainly awake and in good condition, is choosing to pretend to be
dormant, due to trauma she has sustained as a result of recent events in her service life.”
>”The bubba”
>”well yes, however-”
>his matter of fact explanation gave away a little bit here
>”There is anger at the bubba, yes, but there is also a huge amount of sorrow in her, which I think is the
result of something else entirely. She still is not ready to be fully accepting of a new user, in any case”
>oh
>”so, you’re... ....telling me to give up?”
>Dan shook his head
>”Anon I can read in you that you wouldn’t if you wanted to, but no. I honestly don’t want you to give
up. Honestly I think you’re a good match for her.”
>wait what
>”Just be aware that she may be a bit resistant to use; you’re going to have to convince her to accept you”
>”o-ok I guess?”
>”Good; we’ll have her ready tomorrow.”
>wait what
>Dan just smiled
>”you heard me, be back tomorrow, before the store opens”
>”uh, ok?”
>I look at Springfield one last time before walking out the back room and out the store to head to my
cabin
>I guess I’ll see it tomorrow?


>GODDAMNIT NO.
>I reflexively shut my bolt
>damned mark; maybe they will think I am dormant
>maybe...?
>...no, I shut my own bolt
>Goddamnit I am not ready to do the cycle again
>the dwarf calls on “Dan”
>a bearded man appears
>he screams “wizard”
>oh no
>This man takes a hold to “read” me
>or whatever the hell wizards do
>'no, go cop a packet wizard, you’ll not read me like your damn scrolls, I’m not going to come out again;
nope may as well be dormant, so you may as well take a round and jam it up yo-’
>"Quiet down a bit”
>He can hear me
>...
>nuts
>All I’ve done is act like a childish fool and blown my own cover
>all I can really do is sit as the wizard explains that I am a waffengeist and that I am active
>life is pain
>I eavesdrop on his spiel
>”...there is anger at the bubba...”
>oh there is anger alright
>”...is also a huge amount of sorrow in her...”
>note to self, discharge at any other wizard that dares try to read me
>"She is still not ready to be fully accepting of a new user”
>no, how could you tell?
>”...so... ...you’re telling me to give up?”
>wait
>yes
>now thats an idea
>if I am unworkable enough, maybe the user will give up?
>can I do that?
>...I never tried...
>maybe I should have done that with bubba
>before I can descend back into thought, something said grabs my attention
>"Good we’ll have her ready tomorrow”
>what
>the user walks out and leaves me with the wizard
>the dwarf walks in from where the user walked out
>"Why did ye put us up to this?”
>"you heard me talking to anon”
>"Well she clearly doesn’t want to be worked on”
>"ah I’ll take care of it”
>'NO, don’t you DARE USE YOUR MAGIC ON ME, WIZARD’
>"Oh don’t be like that-”
>"you can talk to it?”
>"Well really anyone can talk to it-”
>the wizard took out a pouch and pours some dust into his hand
>'KEEP YOUR-’
>he sprinkles it onto me and instantly I can feel the effects
>'-your... you’re sandman’
>the world goes to darkness

Part 2: Encounter

>this darkness was not that of the cave, but that of sleep
>sleep
>I haven’t slept in a while
>...
>this is nice
>...
>I feel different though
>wait you can’t think when you’re asleep can you?
>no
>no I’m awake from the sandman’s sand he blew in my face
>...
>I sound like an idiot
>damned wizard
>I open my eyes
>I’m still on the rest in the back room, but the lights are off now, and the store dim and quiet
>I quickly realize why I felt different
>I once again have all my furniture, the tumors that were welded and strapped to me are gone
>...
>If they wanted to repair me they could’ve just said that
>I reflect on the surrounding quiet
>I said I was going to pretend to be dormant, but the user is gone and those gunsmiths must be home or
asleep
>...
>what the hell, I want to see what I look like now
>I leave my material body to inspect myself
>upon leaving it I stretch
>god, it has been awhile; I never thought I’d miss this form
>after doing that for a bit, I look down at my physical form
>I’m
>I’m flabbergasted
>all the tumors are gone, my old magazine and floor-plate in
>the wood is pristine and sealed
>the rust polished off my metal parts
>and
>a ladder sight
>...
>I won’t hurt the wizard after all
>I think my sight is still a little bad, and some scars are still present on the metal
>I pick myself up and work my bolt
>I feel a good seal, and it looks pristine
>my barrel is in good condition again
>cleaned and oiled
>...
>this is both good news and bad news
>good because I don’t feel revolted at myself anymore
>bad because my new user will certainly want to use me
>...
>I place myself back onto the stand and dematerialize

>Honestly, those smiths only restored me because my new user wanted me to be restored
>instead of selling me or leaving me in that cave
>he didn’t even know I was a waffengeist or anything special
>...
>I know I wanted to play dormant and not get attached to this user
>and I still don’t really know about this user
>but them having me restored is of some testament to their character, is it not?
>maybe my plan last night of being unworkable is extreme
>...
>the least I can do is be a functional rifle for them
>I need not materialize, but I can allow the use of my physical form
>and worst comes to worst, I can always be unworkable
>who knows, that Garand said he is a collector, perhaps I’ll just be put on a shelf and allowed to rest in a
warm room
>like that one place
>I think it was... C-M-P?
>I once again start fading from the world into my memories...


>I get to the store bright and early, right as Aiden is opening up
>He takes his sweet time getting to the door
>”Is this revenge for the late nigh-”
>”No lad, Dan was the one that had us working late”
>[exhausted dwarven grumbling]
>”go on to the room and get yer rifle, then get back here, I’ve a job fer ye”
>I watch Aiden go back behind the register and practically sink into the counter with a yawn
>going ahead I go to the back room
>and there she is
>on the same table, in the same stand; almost like she was just transformed overnight
>I mean technically she was
>it’s just amazing the radical difference between how it was last night and now
>stupid unnecessary and probably improperly calibrated scopes and sights removed, along with the “rails”
they were were mounted on
>in their place are original ladder sight and front post
>the tarnished and cracking wood furniture and stock have been replaced or refinished, and a hand guard
now
>the are some very fine scars on the receiver where “additions” have been removed, and it is still clear the
wood has taken quite a beating over the years, but she looks like a whole different rifle
>I stand there pouring over the 1903 for a while, eventually picking it up and working the action
>I might’ve been a bit too enamored with it
>”LAD. Quit that racket and get up here to do yer job!”
>uh right
>work
>I put on a new sling, putting the old one in one of the pouches on my webbing
>the old sling needs a bit of work but is recoverable
>I walk back out to find Aiden with a map on the counter, partly propping his head up with a ball-peen
hammer
>”Ok, sorry; what is the job today?”
>”Opposite end of the valley; Dan was not specific but it seems there were a couple travelers with some
loot fell”
>”How they get killed?”
>”Like I said he wasn’t specific”
>very re-assuring
>welp off I go


>eventually I am pulled back out of my memory by the piercing lights of the store
>I watch as the Dwarf limps in
>He stops to look at me
>"Gods I don’t know how I managed those repairs in one night”
>Neither do I honestly
>dwarfs know metal though
>they all work metal right?
>like the darks work cotton
>eh no the dark pointy ears just steal
>I was thinking of something else
>I get lost enough in thought that suddenly my user is standing before me
>it
>it wasn’t that much time was it?
>The user is as stunned as I was with my physical form
>as he should be
>For once in a long time I feel pride in myself
>he picks me up for inspection
>He has a good grip
>better than the bubbas filthy, greasy hands anyhow
>the user decides to cycle my bolt
>and then cycle it again, this time mock aiming at some AR-15 pattern rifle in a rest across the room
>He must be eager to go try me out
>he cycles again
>very eager
>makes a couple bayoneting motions while cycling me more
>uh
>crouches while aiming again
>ok?
>"LAD. Quit that racket and get up here to do yer job!”
>User jumps and snaps out of it
>thank christ that was awkward
>but at least this user seems to care and is... enthusiastic
>the last thing User does before we go is change out my sling; then we go to the front where the dwarf is
waiting with a map the wizard conjured
>”...a couple travelers with loot fell...”
>"How did they get killed?”
>"Like I said he wasn’t specific”
>User does not question this
>...
>Please tell me this is merely courage and not stupidity?


>get walking to the other end of the valley
>yeah walk
>even in fantasyland I am too much of a poorfag for a car
>also where the fuck would I get gasoline
>as I walk I unsling the Springfield to load her up with some good ol’.30-06
>opening the bolt I am reminded of the mark put there, and of the fact that this is not just a rifle
>this is a waffengeist
>I’ve heard of them but never actually seen them before
>what do they even do?
>I know they materialize as people, but really that’s all I know
>I stop and stare at the rifle and think about last night and what Dan said
>”She still is not ready to be fully accepting of a new user”
>...

>well she hasn’t materialized, but so far she hasn’t objected to me working the bolt
>Dan said she was pretending to be dormant
>”trauma she has sustained as a result of recent events in her service life”
>hmm
>maybe she’s worried about falling into the hands of another bubba
>”...you’re going to have to convince her to accept you...”
>...
>well, I may as well try talking to it at least
>maybe?
>it’s better than nothing
>”I hope you’re feeling a little better, not being jacked up by that jackass...”
>I hold her with a folded arm as I pull out my compass and map to try and check my progress
>finding the right course I tuck them into a pouch and continue walking and talking, holding the 1903
now with both hands
>”...honestly I certainly am, nothing worse than seeing a mangled rifle...”
>...
>”...especially one like you, a good historic battle rifle. I like collecting old American ones like
yourself...”
>...
>”...hey maybe if we have time we can do some target shooting; I’ve never shot a 1903 before”
>okay I feel really awkward now


>It feels nice being on a shoulder in the morning sun
>I can almost pretend I am out on the march back in France
>however I am with a new user, out to do his job
>I assume it is something similar to what he was doing when he took me from the bastard
>collecting the arms of the dead to be used again
>grim work, but I cannot say that I’ve never seen this done before in my life
>just before it was of pragmatic logistics, it is easier to retrieve already existing rifles and bullets from
those who do not need them anymore
>never money though, or maybe it was
>I’m not sure how I feel about that now, though, other rifles being torn from their users
>I only ever lost a user once... and only after being brought to life...
>before I can descend back into memory I am unslung and the new user starts loading me
>ahh, ammunition! Good clean rounds too
>it’s been too long
>but this also means that he intends to use me
>I shouldn’t be surprised, with the enthusiasm displayed so far
>he starts talking
>"I hope you’re feeling better, not being jacked up by that jackass”
>that is an apt way to put it
>he continues to talk while checking his map
>"honestly I am, nothing worse than seeing a mangled rifle, especially one like you, a good historic battle
rifle”
>he was quiet for so long, why start talking now?
>oh, I know
>this is about wanting me to come out, the wizard told him that I’d have to “fully” accept him
>"I like collecting old American ones like yourself”
>god this is making me feel like an ass
>but what do I do? materialize and say 'I’m sorry user, I’m not ready to do the cycle again, you can still
use me like a plain rifle though’ and go back to pretending to be dormant?
>and he’s a user, he doesn’t know about the cycle, I’d have to explain that
>“hey maybe if we have time we can do some target shooting; I’ve never shot a 1903 before”
>he clearly is looking like he feels awkward
>I’m sorry user, I feel that way too


>Knowing it’s a waffengeist, this isn’t feeling dumb for talking to a rifle
>this is the awkward silence of a one sided convo
>Getting close now, looking for a clearing between two hills
>”you know I know you probably have your reasons for not really reciprocating, but it’s a little awkward
to have a one sided conversation-”
>I stop at a bit a clear point in the forest and scan around
>ah there it is, like 300 yards out
>can see the bodies clearly
>takes a second to register that the bodies are awfully bloody
>suddenly I am not so chipper
>Igotabadfeelingaboutthis.cliche
>seriously getting nope vibes now
>think I can smell something, faintly
>that can’t be the bodies though, bodies don’t smell that strongly, do they?
>I get low and start looking around with my head slowly, now with the rifle up at the ready
>no, not without wind; there’s something else out here
>I can’t see anything obvious through the trees and light brush
>whatever it is either smells like hell or is close
>I decide to calm myself a little bit by low talking to the waffengeist some more
>”ok, I don’t know if you can smell that, but I think whatever killed those guys is still out here, gotta find
it be-”
>the rifle raises it’s ladder sight out of nowhere
>I look at it dumbfounded
>it lowers it and raises it up again a couple times
>take it as a sign and look where I’m pointing the rifle at
>something moving in the bush beyond the clearing, 500 yds
>it’s man size
>it’s green
>its muttering (yelling more like) something about “umies not tasting good raw”
>shit it’s an orc
>it’s carrying some wood into the clearing
>watch it stumble in and out of the clearing for a while preparing what looks like a bonfire
>he likes it well-done
>gotta kill him before that though, he may destroy the stuff on the fuckers he killed
>”git da fiyah big and good so the gits can gome find me lost arse”
>ok he is alone, or alone enough, and that’s a signal fire
>I have to shoot NOW


>we walk in silence for a bit before he talks again
>"You know, I know you probably have your reasons for not reciprocating”
>I, I am sorry...
>"but it’s a little awkward to have a one sided conversation”
>I am an ass
>he stops looking around, looking for our destination I think
>then I smell it
>a foul miasma in the air
>orcs
>those foul green living plague from hell
>some call them green-niggers; that name is too good for them for me
>especially with my experience with them
>User does not seem to notice, but I myself scan the woods for them
>I spot the clearing with his prize strewn corpses; we now know how those travelers “fell”

>the user also notices them and gets low; he realizes the danger too
>ok, I don’t know if you can smell that, but I think whatever killed those guys is still out here..."
>good to know he isn’t slow with recognizing danger
>just willing to go towards it
>as we scan around I deduce the smell comes from across the clearing...
>I see movement
>the user does not, he is too preoccupied with the woods around us
>not unreasonable, but the smell would be much worse if there were more
>they would also be guarding their kill
>I get his attention by moving my ladder sight; he gets the hint
>but he does not shoot right away though; he thinks there are more
>he is not experienced with them like I am
>he watches the lone green ape prepare a signal fire
>"git da fiyah big and good so the gits can gome and find me lost arse”
>it speaks worse than darks, but it speaks, and mentioned others.
>this one is part of a warband
>User finally get the hint and starts preparing to shoot,
>but he is not experienced
>I see him using the top aperture for a 457 yard shot; he will be off
>he is also aiming for the torso, this will not kill it
>not doing the cycle be damned, I cannot, will not, lose another user
>he tries firing, I do not let him
>I materialize behind, on him
>'shhh, keep eyes on target, and listen with care’

>I aim using the aperture on the ladder sight, I had already adjusted the range two or three times
>not sure how I feel about there being no clicks, but I’m sure it’s good
>I aim at center mass to make sure I hit him
>and
>I can’t pull the trigger
>what, wh-
>a hand goes over my mouth and I feel someone’s weight on me
>for a second I feel as though I’m done, but then I hear her
>”shhhh, keep eyes on target, and listen with care”
>it’s
>it’s the waffengeist?
>”He won’t start the fire yet, but he will soon. He is alone, his compatriots are miles away or else he
would just make enough noise to raise Cain.”
>she takes her hand off my mouth
>”You’ve adjusted the range correctly User, but I can tell you are using the upper aperture. This is good
only for a range of 2750 to 1400 yards; he is well within that range, and had you shot, you would have
missed. Use the lower aperture-”
>she points to a notch I hadn’t noticed above the peep sight
>”or the peep sight”
>the orc stumbles back into the woods
>”Now, on the orc; shooting at center of mass is a good for increasing chance to hit, but will not kill him.
Hunting an orc is like hunting a deer, you want it to go down and not be able to run, just in this case the
prey will not run away, but rather try to come kill you”
>I decide to stop being stunned and speak
>”if he doesn’t know where we are he may bleed ou-
>”NO. Like I said it is like deer. And he will know from the sound where we are. You want to shoot the
head or where the neck meets the head.”
>”at this range though we have a good chance of missing”
>She lets out a frustrated sigh
>”I know, and I am trying to do everything to help that not happen; if we miss we can make a follow up shot, if you let me cycle the bolt”
>movement in the bush signals the orcs return
>”take aim user, you’ve proven yourself courageous so far”


>the user listens to me and my explanations
>his objections confirm he does not have much experience, but I can see and feel him following my
instructions
>as the orc comes back into the clearing I give him the go ahead to fire
>'Take aim user, you’ve proven yourself courageous so far...'
>he aims, but my job is not done yet
>I also help him aim nudging his grip stance to make sure
>we won’t miss, I won’t let you user
>half way between the forest and bonfire, he sends it
>I fire the shot
>in that moment things move in slow motion, and we watch the bullet travel to target
>it always feels like the world slows down for this
>it hits the orc in the neck and I can see it’s head torque into an angle not naturally possible
>and the orc drops to his side
>'aim at the head again’
>"wha”
>'DO IT’
>I cycle my bolt and User does as told, and fires
>the vomit-skin’s cranium explodes in a cloud of dirt, grass and gore
>'good shot user; now get what you came for and get out of here’
>I dematerialize, and decide to rest a bit
>The user seems stunned, and confused when he checks to see where I am
>I eject the spent cartridge from my chamber to get him to get going
>with a slow pace at first he gets up and goes to it
>"that was rather curt, why did you have to just disappear back into your gun form?”
>"do you only come out when there is trouble?”
>no user, but there would’ve been trouble
>we get to the bodies of the poor souls the orc killed
>a young man and an older man
>either one had 1 and and 1 leg at least partially detached
>the younger one having body armor and a shotgun, with a custom mounted bayonet, and in his severed
arm combat hatchet
>the older one had an AR-15 approximating the ones issued in Vietnam, and a flak jacket and M1 helmet
>spent cartridges seemed to be around the clearing
>the younger one looked worse for wear, more wounds
>"God, did this guy try to fight the orc himself?"
>my thoughts exactly
>dumb fool


>he walks back out, towards the bonfire to be
>I aim, but as I do I feel the arms of the waffengeist gently move to brace my arms as I do
>it both feels like she is barely touching them and barely pushing or nudging them
>weirdfeelings.gif
>I focus on aiming though
>as the orc get’s halfway between the clearing edge and the bonfire I pull the trigger
>it gets him in the neck
>”got him in the neck” is an understatement actually, more like “it got his neck”
>his head was basically swing by a strip of flesh as he fell
>’AIM AT THE HEAD AGAIN’

>”wha-”
>the springfield cycled itself
>’DO IT’
>pull the trigger again, not really aiming in the stupor of being yelled at
>somehow I hit the orc’s head in spite of this
>’good shot user-’
>don’t patronize me you did that
>’-now get what you came for and get out of here!’
>before I can ask “who’s using who” the arms disappear
>I turn around, but she’s gone
>the springfield self-cycles again to get me moving
>I take the hint and go to scav the bodies
>”You know that last bit was rather curt. Also why did you just disappear back into the gun? Do you only
come out when there is trouble?”
>...
>back to the silence then
>that’s ok I have bodies to loot
>a bit morbid, but I derive a bit of entertainment playing detective
>you can usually figure out what happened from the way things look
>like these guys
>limbs cleaved by the orc, the armored guy had his arm and leg farther away from him, and the ‘nam larp
guy’s arm was still gripping the back of armor guy’s vest, so he was trying to pull this guy to the forest
>then got shreked
>going over the guy in armor, it’s fucking ruined; what isn’t cut is smashed and bashed
>his hatchet and a bayonet mounted on his shottie has orc blood on it
>”God did this guy try to fight the orc himself?”
>the ‘nam guy appeared to have died due to blood loss gripping his M16A1 tightly
>”and I guess this guy was trying to pull him out while shooting at the orc”
>finish off loading their gear into the bag of holding to head my way back to the gunshop
>ponder the dead guys further as I do
>aside from the obvious bashing and slashing they look worn out
>the guys have no identification, and actually seem to have little in the way of water or food on them
>ammo pretty low too
>this in spite of the fact the ‘nam larper has a rucksack on him and a duffle bag that I presume the other
guy dropped
>these guys must’ve been traveling for a while, just another couple of kommandos, “lost to the zone.” I
wonder if they were looking for an adventure, or if this was the tragic end of one.
>consider burying them
>look at the sun
>almost halfway to the ground, so I decide against it
>Time to go back; I’m going to get some shit for the one guy’s armor being fucked up, even though it
isn’t my fault
>...
>There used to be more guys, like that around
>even when I crossed over when I did, there were still lot’s of guys running around innamagicwoods
>but now I never see them much anymore
>well, not alive
>part of that is due to being a dedicated scavenger, always out and away from the hamlet picking nuggets
off the dead, but with the ratio of apparent kommandos and people from the old world to fantasy fags, the
prospects are discouraging
>it might just be the fact that the local portal closed, and roads seem to be beyond fantasyfags
>...
>I wonder about the guys I came over with
>I wonder where they are, what they’re doing


>The User offers not much more insight, slinging me and getting to his grisly work
>he seems a bit crestfallen at the tryhard’s destroyed armor, and other bashed items from the dead men
>I suppose he gets paid according to the value of items recovered
>seems like a bad scheme; he must also get paid something in addition to that for doing the trip?
>"hi!”
>what?
>oh, the Garand
>"you look much better than you did yesterday; I told you they’d fix you up!”
>'thanks’
>"I guess they didn’t improve your attitude though”
>'you’re very funny’
>"although, you did actually talk to the user, so that’s still progress. I didn’t know you were awake!”
>'What? You’re not?’
>"Nope! I didn’t think you were awake either”
>well that explains the user’s confusion
>'So the user has never interacted with an awake geist before, at all? I would imagine he would have had
a geist’
>"I don’t think either of the gunsmiths have the material to wake us up-”
>'Material? You mean you didn’t just awaken with the convergence?’
>"well no- wait you me-”
>”....they... they are coming...”
>we are interrupted by a third person, faint, and hoarse
>the user does not seem to notice
>'who was that?’
>"look, the rifle there!”
>Garand points out what I had missed; sticking partly out of the user’s holding bag is one of the dead
men’s rifle
>was it actually an 16A1?
>"what was that? who’s coming?”
>”....they....”
>the M16 stays silent, saying no more after that
>"...who...who do you think she meant by they?”
>...
>”...’03? Please don’t check out on me...”
>'she may have been referring to the vomit skin’
>"the wha-”
>'the orc. perhaps these two have been running from some’


>”gods lad what happened to the kit?”
>”An orc got them; I got the orc”
>Aiden looks at me warily
>”Really. Just one?”
>”Yeah, the dumb greenskin said it was lost, almost built a bonfire. Got him with the 1903, and she
seemed to agree it was just the one-”
>”Aw ye already got the girl talking to you now?”
>wellyesbuttechnicallyno.png
>”uh well I tried talking to her when I was walking there but she didn’t say anything until I was looking
for the orc-”
>”so she came out to just help ye kill one orc?”
>”I mean I guess...”
>suddenly realize this implies she killed the orc cause I couldn’t
>”....ye guess?”
>[dwarven laughing]
>”it’s ok lad I’m joking; the geist can’t fire the gun ‘erself, she needs a user to work”

>”I don’t feel any better”
>”But she did talk to you?”
>”only about the orc; she helped me aim I think, but then disappeared before I could even get a look at
her”
>He shrugged with a bemused expression
>”I guess she’s still a bit shy;”
>this quickly went to a more serious one
>”you said the orc was building a bonfire?
>”uh yeah; it was just the one orc”
>”yer sure?”
>”If there was more they would’ve come and found me wouldn’t they?”
>[contemplative drawven growling]
>”I still think the Burgher should hear about it; can never be too sure in this age”
>the Burgher was the guy who owned the hamlet, and was basically the boss of everything
>the guy was ok but was awkward as fuck to talk to, was one of those guys who seemed to never show
any amount of emotion and always seemed to be calculating stuff in his head
>”...so should I go tell him?”
>”No, you can go home; I’ve heard yer story and have the map to about where it was. Just be ready to do
something different tomorrow.”


>the hump back saw the user not attempt conversation again
>at first a relief
>but then I feel guilty again
>"Hey, answer me; what orc!?”
>I forgot, I’m still slung next to the Garand
>'Sorry, I was reflecting on the afternoon’s events-’
>"You just went silent and ignored me for 5 minutes after I asked; do you always do this?”
>I do seem to have a habit of sinking back into thought quite often
>'I do don’t I; thank you for yelling at me about it, please continue doing so’
>"wha- ok, look are you going to answer me about the orc?”
>'You didn’t see it?’
>"NO I WAS SLUNG ON THE USER’S BACK NOW JUST TELL ME”
>jesus and the garand seemed so chipper
>explain about the orc, bonfire and that I helped the user make sure it was dead
>"So it was going to light a fire to bring more orcs here?!”
>'But we got the orc before it could do that’
>"Shouldn’t we still be worried though?
>by this point the user has made it back to the gunsmiths and is talking to the dwarf about the incident as
well
>Dwarf teases the user, saying that I basically killed the orc for him
>user takes the joke not well
>goddamnit the user is going to hate me for this
>the Dwarf spares both of us more discomfort by bring the orc back up
>"You said the orc was building a bonfire?”
>"uh yeah, but it was just the one orc”
>"yer sure?”
>"If there was more they would’ve come and found me wouldn’t they?”
>The Dwarf grumbles
>The User isn’t necessarily wrong but he should also consider that even one orc wandering around is too
many
>"I still think the Burgher should hear about it; can never be too sure in this age”
>ok good he is telling someone titled berghur.... burger?
>damn fantasy fags; maybe the garand knows
>'Garand who is a “burger” and why are they important?’
>"The burgher is basically the boss of the hamlet”

Part 3: Respite

>Walk across the hamlet to my cabin
>I think about what Aiden said
>I think it’s pretty ominous tbh
>especially by saying “be ready to do something different tomorrow”
>he may as well have told me “I wouldn’t worry about it”
>I take the long route in the hamlet from the gunshop to my cabin, along the river that wound around the
hamlet
>aside from the sounds of the saw mill a ways up the only noise was the calm roar of the water
>it usually helps me calm down
>the uninterrupted woods along the other bank in the dusk don’t assure me at all though
>every shadow in the twilight suddenly an unknown quantity
>Orcs wouldn’t come to this piddly place right?
>the only things here are a bunch of lumberjacks and logs
>then again orcs don’t think do they...
>I’m worrying too much
>nothing ever happens here; nothing ever happens to me
>fuck it new rifle/waffengeist M1903 to talk to
>”Hey that’s right, I got to figure out a place for you in my armory; can’t just put you in a safe or cabinet
can I?”
>I figure it still isn’t going to talk back but it helps to calm down
>get to my cabin, within view of the river
>2 room; one shaped like an “L” and a “bedroom”
>the bed room has only a wall and a half separating it from the rest of the cabin; no door, only a curtain
>outhouse, but the “yard” is fenced and the cabin has clean flowing water somehow
>honestly really nice, if a bit small
>put my garand on her stand and get my kit off into their cubicles
>light my lamps, light my stove and put a precious can of old world chili on
> eat then give springfield a quick cleaning
>then go to put the springfield in my armory
>a series of shelves and cubicles with hooks, made myself, with tools and wood borrowed/given away by
the hamlet
> guns and kit sorted chronologically, with ammunition and tools kept separate
>realize I haven’t made a new stand
>”oh, right... shit”


>as the user walked home I asked the garand about this burger
>sorry, “burgher"
>and this place
>basically this little town is a lumber camp along a river, except the big boss also has his homestead here
>"see the big house on the hill, with the walls? That’s where he lives I think”
>no more direction for sighting it needed, as the small hill pokes clear above all the other buildings, and
really is the only thing that could be called a house compared to the sheds and ranch-cabins
>actually a little unusual for fantasy-land
>'reminds me of farmlands back in america...’
>"yeah, almost like a ranch, except , well, it’s a lumber camp”
>'there is also a ton of humans and little ones, but I see no others?’
>"wood elves come by sometimes but yeah it’s mostly humans and dwarves”
>'why so many dwarves, I thought they worked rocks?’
>"I am not sure either, I think they all know the burgher personally, and that they have some history”
>'Interesting-’

>we’re interrupted by the user whispering a bit to himself
>'He seems a bit tense for one orc’
>"well... honestly we don’t usually run into anything. I also think it’s the fact that Aiden said the burgher
needed to know”
>'Why?’
>"well, if it was just one orc it seems a little much to tell the big boss doesn’t it?”
>we sit in silence for a bit, before the user unslings me and breaks the silence by talking to me
>"Hey that’s right,”
>his pace is picking up
>"I got to figure out a place for you in my armory; can’t just put you in a safe or cabinet can I?”
>at least it seems like he’s calming down
>also how the hell would one get a safe out in fantasy-land
>he approaches a single-person cabin with an outhouse
>again, homey
>we enter, and I immediately recognize his “armory”
>...memories...
>An M1C and M2, Jungle boots, M1943 uniform
>A Model 1912, an M3 and M1 carbine
>M1917 Enfield, Bayonet, Revolver, Helmet and even a tunic from the great war
>even an M1905 bayonet
>among other things
>I even spy an M14 or M1A, unfortunate child
>so taken aback I hardly notice any time pass before the user is giving me a cleaning
>I appreciate the attention but we only fired twice user
>he then picks me up and walks over to the armory, only to stop
>there are no spare stands
>this seems to bother him
>"Oh, right... shit”
>just lean me against the wall and bottom shelf
>"I guess I’ll need to make a new stand; I guess I need to find another place, to put you for the night”
>just put me on the shelf
>he gets a towel and lays me on it up on the nearby table
>no I want to be able to talk to the M1917 damnit
>"Ok, that way we can keep you from falling over in the night and getting your new furniture pitted”
>I want to yell; I served in two world wars korea and vietnam, and many other fights, on top of being
trapped under the rotting corpse of a fat sub-human cretin,
>a pit in my furniture is a small price to pay to being able to talk to an old comrade
>I quietly fume
>the user puts out the lamps and goes into what I guess is his bedroom
>some time passes
>...
>I wish he had a clock
>no
>I wish he had just put me on the shelf before going to sleep
>'darned fool-’
>I’m startled by spoken word; it takes me a minute to realize it’s my own
>I look down
>how long have I been sitting in this chair...?
>...
>I get up and walk over to “the armory,”
>the M1917 I won’t disturb now, I grab the brodie and M1905 instead, and sit back down at the table with
them


>decide to keep the springfield on the table to keep it from falling over and maybe knocking the M1917 over
>I think it wouldn’t really like me just leaving it to fall over right?
>idk
>I need to sleep, I’ll see about getting more wood and some time at the workbench too
>go too sleep
>wake up with a dry throat
>thirsty
>reach for my canteen for a drink
>gulp all the water in it down
>moar
>fuck it
>half asleep I get out of bed and walk out to the kitchen to get more water
>as I get to the sink to fill up I hear something faint that isn’t the river
>more awake now I notice a figure in my peripheral
>for some reason I do not immediately go castledoctrine.exe
>sitting in the chair next to the springfield is a woman humming “it’s a long way to Tipperary,” looking
out the window,
>she is wearing my brodie helmet and a matching uniform, and playing with the M1905 bayonet
>it takes much longer than it should for it to click but the final tumblers were those arms and hands-
>the same ones I saw yesterday
>I just stand there, listening to her hum old war tunes and mumble to herself
>she turns her head, seems not to notice me
>I see the details of her face
>there are several scars running across the left side
>very slight smile as she starts picking up her gun, body?
>mumble mumble....”bayonets ready”
>she mounts the bayonet and picks up the rifle, but stops
>she does a double take and realizes I’m standing there
>we lock eyes
>her right side isn’t scarred nearly as much
>her left eye has that look of cataracts
>I decide to try talking
>”....h-hey, nice to see you”
>she is just staring at me
>”....uh, are you just reminiscing?”
>she looks down
>”....are you ok-”
>’I’m sorry’
>”what”
>’I’m sorry, I’m not... ready...’
>”ready for w-”
>in the literal blink of an eye she’s gone, or back in the gun
>the brodie helmet dropping onto the chair wakes me out of my stupor
>”what, no- come on!”
>I walk over, picking up the 1903
>the bayonet, still not fully mounted, fell to the floor
>I simply sigh and look at the rifle
>start shaking the rifle a little as I can’t think of anything else to get a response
>”what did I do? Whatever it is I’M sorry-”
>’Look, can you just...’
>I stop at the sound of her voice and look around
>”where are you...?”
>’I’m right here’
>look at the 1903 in my hands
>so she can talk without being “out” of the gun?
>”you mean you’re in the gun; can’t you please come out and talk? I’m not mad, just... confused.”

>we sit in silence for a minute, me standing still, waiting for a response
>’...I know, and that’s... why I apologized...’
>I put the 1903 back on the table and pick up the brodie helmet before sitting down, sighing again
>”that just makes me more confused”
>another minute of calm silence
>’...please can we talk in the morning? I promise I’ll explain then...’
>I look away at the bayonet on the floor
>it’s blade is stuck into the floor, probably close to where my foot was
>I pick it up off the floor and inspect the point, then mount it onto the springfield, sighing a third time
>fuck it
>I’ll go along with it, it’s not as though I can make her talk
>what am I going to do, threaten slagging?
>”alright, fine”
>I put the brodie next to her on the table, then walk over to get the water I wanted
>”I’ll see you in the morning, ok?”


>why do blank out like that, or go drown in memories, I wonder
>the helmet looks like they did when issued
>well taken care of though, I wonder if it truly is original, or if it was ever issued
>maybe someone restored it like I was restored
>I look at the front window next to the table
>opening it up I can see the river lit up in the moon light, dull sound of the water audible even in the
cabin
>before I know it I have the helmet on my head, and I’m beginning to drift off to memory again
>humming some familiar tunes those boys used to sing with the tommies...
>inspecting the M1905, it is pristinely maintained
>I rotate it by the window, the moon light flashing off the blade, but not it’s edge
>sharp, as it should be for it’s work
>it’s much harder to do business with it if it is dull
>the business...
>I look to my bayonet mount
>memories drift out of my past and into the present
>'alright boys, the time is almost on us, bayonets ready’
>as I mount it I hear, something faint
>my left peripheral is not as good, I turn my head to see the noise
>I stop everything
>it is the user
>did I wake him?
>how long has he been there?
>memories flow from the past into the present, drowning it and whatever the user is saying out
>I’ve just realized this is just like that one night, so long ago
>when I first “awoke,” and met my first user I truly knew
>this is too much
>”...are you ok?”
>’I’m sorry’
>"what?”
>'I’m not ready...’
>I withdraw back into my gun form, lost in a swirl of nostalgia
>and grief, fears of the cycle returning to me
>is this user so much like my old one?
>are we going to go through so much, only for an ending like with my old one?
>before I can fully enter the downward spiral again, I get shaken out of it
>literally, I return to the present, and the user shaking me
>I fear I’ve made him angry
>get a grip! No more drowning in memory!

>Despite my internal resolution I still feel rather shaken
>again also literally
>I should first figure out how to explain things to my new user
>and also to get him to go back to sleep, to allow me some time
>I interrupt him as he asks what he did
>what he did?
>and he is confused at first, at me being able to talk without materializing into a human form
>I guess he really hasn’t interacted with any geists before
>another similarity...
>"can’t you please come out and talk? I’m not mad, just... confused
>...at least he isn’t terrified... like...
>I am allowing myself to drown again, dammit; focus
>the user is confused but not frustrated, yet
>'...that’s why I apologized...’
>he sits down and sighs
>’...please can we talk in the morning? I promise I will explain then...’
>I am going to make user frustrated, I fear
>...
>he takes me by surprise by picking the M1905 and mounting it , and leaving the brodie next to me on the
table
>he calmly gets some water
>"alright, fine; I’ll see you in the morning, ok?”
>...
>Alright
>I’ll think of how to explain myself then, and how to make up for my behavior
>Thank you user, sleep well...


>I wake up again in the twilight of the early morning to clattering
>I glance at my clock
>6:00 AM
>my alarm is set for 7:00
>I almost fall out of bed reaching to shut the alarm off so that it won’t go off later
>realize that if the clattering isn’t from my alarm clock, then that must mean someone is in the kitchen
>stumble up out of bed
>notice that my clothes from the previous days aren’t in my hamper or on my floor
>open the curtain to the main room
>sure enough, see the Springfield cooking at the stove
>”...good morning...?”
>she looks over her right shoulder
>’Good morning user; breakfast will be ready soon. Also your clothes are hanging to dry outside’
>there was only one pair of pants, boxers and two shirts though
>”I usually do laundry all on Sundays”
>’You should do it more frequently’
>she pours out something from a pot into a bowl and puts a fried egg on top of it, walking over to the
table, where she puts it down and sits
>”Aren’t you going to have some?”
>she looks down
>’I don’t need it’
>”Can you not eat food?”
>’no, I can eat food, I just don’t need it’
>I frown
>”nonsense, you should have some-”
>I grab a bowl and a spoon, then come over to the table and spoon out half of the breakfast into it
>Grits, as it turns out

>”Besides it’ll be awkward if only one of us is eating”
>she still looks awkward, but she does take the bowl
>before I sit down I notice her tapping her foot fairly quickly
>”hey are you nervous?”
>she finally looks up
>’yes, a little... I guess I’m still not sure about how to explain myself, where to start...’
>she pauses for a second, looking at me for input
>”I guess, maybe with being afraid to talk...?”
>she groans a little, and looks down at the table again


>'ok, that is a starting point... but it actually wasn’t the talking that I was afraid of...’
>It’s not the talking I’m afraid of, but what is
>it was getting close to the user, but not really getting close
>I have to explain “the cycle” to him,
>I put my arm to stop myself from moving my leg, now violently shaking
>I sigh
>'No, I wasn’t talking because of a couple things, things purely of my mind; it will be hard for me to
describe, so bear with me please.’
>I breathe again
>'So, I have a habit of... drowning... in my memories...'
>"ok”
>'I don’t know why I do, but I think it’s the result of being stuck in that tomb-’
>"with the bubba?”
>'that’s what you call him yes; being stuck in that place I only really had my memories’
>I look at him
>he looks like he’s following along
>'I know this doesn’t seem to have anything do to with it, but I promise it does’
>He makes a small smile
>"It’s ok, it sounds like you’re working this out to yourself as well”
>'I guess I am...’
>'anyways, before that, with my last user-’
>"the bub-”
>'NO.’
>he is surprised at my outburst
>'sorry; no. That cretin was not worthy of such a title’
>'No before him; that was my first user, the first one I had while awake. I had been with him for many
years, but...’
>I take a second to keep from falling apart
>'but we didn’t... we didn’t part peacefully...”
>my leg is shaking again
>'and then I had the ordeal with the cretin... then god know how many years in the dark...’
>I nearly start falling into dark water of those memories again, but the user thankfully pulls me out
>"and so all you had were memories, and not necessarily very good ones on your mind”
>I feel his hand touch mine
>'y-yes’
>I take a second to breathe and calm down
>I let out a quiet ‘thank you’ as well
>'I didn’t talk at first after you brought me out of that tomb because I guess I was afraid of repeating this
thing I made up in that time, called the cycle’


>”The cycle?”
>’y-yeah. I guess... I guess it’s like that because I start going through my whole service life over and
over... and always noticed every tour had a pattern of starting out on a high note and then ending on a low note’
>”Tour?”
>she looks up
>’Even though I only “woke up” less than a decade ago, I have memories going back all the way to being
manufactured and issued, granted it’s not continuous...’
>her gaze starts shifting off to her left, her good eye getting a glazed sort of look to it
>the clouds in her left eye almost look like they are shifting
>’...but every tour of duty I remember... the Argonne, the South Pacific, Korea; every time they started in
high spirits but ended with everyone seeming worse for it, in a way...’
>she shakes her head
>’those memories aren’t as vivid as the ones I made after being awoken, and I guess I didn’t dwell on it
until after losing my old user here... we set out into this land, him looking to make a name for himself
and be a big damn hero... and then we slowly got tangled into another little war... and then...’
>she trails off, starting to shake again
>’...and I was telling myself that I’d refuse to come out again and do all that over...’
>she sighs deeply and lets out a sour chuckle as she raises her arms to hold her head
>’my god, I just realized what my issue is... I have shell shock...’
>she start sobbing quietly at this point
>’I, a god damned rifle, have shell shock...’
>I’m a little stunned at this point, watching her go PTSD mode
>ohgodthefeels
>I can’t stand to her her breakdown like this
>I try reaching for her hand again to try and calming her down
>”Hey, it’s ok! You aren’t there anymore, you won’t have to do it again-”
>she flinches away looking at me with an expression that spat both terror, remorse and anger
>’you don’t understand! I’m a fucking rifle! A rifle that lost it’s user, that has become afraid of being
used!’
>she looks down at herself and back at me, then stands up knocking her chair back and bumping the table
violently as she leans forward over the table
> she vehemently begins pointing at herself, looking more terrified now than angry
>’LOOK AT ME, A RIFLE THAT’S NOW BECOME A BLUBBERING MESS AND YELLING AT
HER USER-”
>fuckfuckfuck
>In my panicked state I rack my brain desperately trying to think of what to do to calm down someone
having a PTSD episode
>and in that panicked state the first thing in this milsurp nerd’s ape brain is that one time Patton
encountered a soldier with shell shock in Sicily
>and next thing I know Springfield is standing back with her hand on her face
>fuckfuckfuck x 2
>I start trying to sputter an apology but she shakes her head
>’No, don’t.’
>she starts picking her chair up
>finally I get my shit together
>”I’m so sorry I just panicked, and-”
>she sits back at the table, grabbing my hand
>’I said don’t, user. I shouldn’t have lost composure and scared you like that.’
>’I am so, terribly, sorry.’
>”I’m sorry though, I set you off without realizing how important losing your user must have been to
you”
>’I should’ve known you wouldn’t have understood though...’
>she closes her eyes and sighs
>”I understand now though, and I now know why you were hesitant to talk”
> ‘Yes, you do’


>god I’m such a mess
>a useless mess stuck in her past
>"I don’t think you’re useless though, and I didn’t mean that your old user doesn’t matter”
>can the user read minds?
>'I-I know you think that, and I know that no, I am not actually useless... but-’
>"No buts; I don’t know how your old user died, but I doubt that you were responsible for them dying,
right?”
>I sigh deeply
>'No; I get that you’re trying to make me feel better but my sadness there is something to deep for you to
alleviate'
>he gives me a sad look
>"I figure, but you’re not useless for something that isn’t your fault”
>bless him, he may not understand, but he is trying very hard to make me feel better
>"I just want you to not beat yourself up”
>I smile a little
>'tell me user, why do you care so much?’
>I look up at him, and he seems a little perplexed
>"I mean...”
>he seems to be racking his brain for an answer
>"...I like collecting old American rifles, and seeing them brought to their old glory, and I don’t like
seeing them in bad shape... uh...”
>he looks at me in a embarrassed way
>”...uh-”
>I chuckle
>'It’s ok, I am a rifle at the end of the day’
>”...yeah, but... you’re also a person too...”
>'Well, I guess we both have reasons that are hard to explain’
>we both sit in the awkward morning silence for a bit
>'Oh dear, we let our breakfast get cold’

>we quietly eat our breakfast, before the user gets up to go get dressed into his work wear
>I go to clean the dishes
>"you don’t have to do them right now-”
>'There is no time like the present, user'
>he looks a bit concerned, but doesn’t protest
>even though I still feel a tang of melancholy deep down, I do feel better, after talking
>at least he doesn’t think of me as useless as I am
>but, that just means I should work to remain useful
>if not to be useful, at least work to keep myself from sinking back into memory
>I think this as I clean dishes and bring in laundry
>perhaps I’m taking the “be useful” part too literally
>as I finish, the user gets his pack on, slings the garand over his back, and then picks my gun-form up,
looking confused
>'You have everything?’
>"yes... but...”
>'Are you confused about holding my body?”
>"yeah while-”
>'while I’m walking around in this form’
>"you don’t want to go, uh, in it?”
>I think for a minute
>'No, I think it would be better to walk outside for a bit; it will force me to focus on things other than the
past’
>"oh, ok”
>he looks uncomfortable
>'what now?’

>"I’m not sure how I would explain walking around with a random lady to the people here”
>he went through all that to get me out, and now he wants me to go back into my gun-form?
>I decide to eek the reason out of him by chiding him for it
>''How silly; what young man wouldn’t want to be seen with a woman’
>"well, it’s also that, new people aren’t that common here- well not anymore”
>I take the brodie helmet and put it on his head
>'I’m sure it will be fine. If it needs to be explained, I’ll explain it.’


>The talk seems to have lifted Springfield’s spirits considerably
>figures a tool that thinks they are useless likes being reassured of their usefulness
>I am worried that she thinks I expect her to do chores
>you’re a rifle not a maid
>also worried at her big change of heart in staying out of her rifle-body
>I don’t want her to push herself to far, lest she have another breakdown
>as a ponder this, she basically pushes me out the door
>’come on user; it’ll be fine. I’d like to walk and talk for a bit more’
>I shake my head and start walking towards the river path
>”ok then; what do you want to talk about then?”
>she thinks for a bit
>’Well, if you don’t mind me asking, user; where are you from, and how did you get here? You are from
the old world, right?’
>as I try to answer, she looks around for a minute before continuing
>’also, what is this place then? Why are there only the small folks here, and no one else? Are there kn-’
>”OK, hold on”
>she’s taken aback
>”Sorry, one thing at a time, but first-”
>I stop and I look her in the eyes
>”please, don’t, and I mean do not, call the dwarves anything but dwarves, for both of our sakes, ok?”
>’...oh, I’m sorry, I forget... they can be sensitive...’
>”Yeah, they are like half the town, and are most of the foremen and higher ups.”
>she looks down
>’ok, I’ll remember that...’
>she looks back up, with the energy returned to her eyes
>’So this is a town? Garand said it was a lumber camp, but is it like areal town or just a small settlement?’
>”well it isn’t a town town, and yes it’s a lumber- wait “Garand” said?”
>I look at her
>’Yes, your Garand; I was able to talk to her about the town a little, but I figure you’re able to explain it
better’
>wat
>”does this mean my M1 has a geist too?”
>she looks a bit annoyed at this
>’I’ll answer if you answer my questions first, user’
>fine, I guess I’ll find out later then
>
>”ok, so, the town is essentially all the property of the “Burgher,” that’s his title anyway, and everyone
here works for him or in collaboration with him in some way or another”
>’so a company town?’
>”kinda. He and a bunch of dwarves founded a lumber venture on this land he owns, and most of the
people here either log or run the mill”
>’and I guess then everyone else rents land if they don’t work, then?’
>”yeah, but some people like Adrian or me or some traders do other jobs here too. I think the only
independent “businesses” are the trading post and the elf doctors”
>at this she scoffs
>’I bet they get along well, knife ears and dwarves’

>”actually they do, but that’s only because these elves are exiles. I actually think one of them is here to
hide from other elves”
>’Ok, well then, why are dwarves here with a human in a forest? I thought they prefer mountains’
>I frown a bit at that question
>’what?’
>”I don’t exactly know. I asked Adrian once, and all I got was that the Dwarves are exiles, and that they
stick with the Burgher because he gave them a place; I was also told not to ask the dwarves about it.”
>’are they sore about it?’
>”They wouldn’t fight you over it, but I think they’d get like you are when asked about... that”
>’...oh... I see then.’
>”Not all the dwarves here were part of the original group, but most here are exiles, so yeah, touchy
subject.”
>’hmmm’
>Springfield stops for a second and looks across the river
>’so then, how did you get here, user?’


>I look back at the user
>he is visibly in deep thought, looking in my direction, but not at me; beyond me
>he looks a bit down
>"It’s a long story, and...”
>’...and...?’
>"it’s, not that...”
>’...not that...?’
>”...it’s, kinda lame...”
>we both stand still and quiet in the cold clear morning
>’...lame?’
>”...yeah...”
>'lame how?’
>he took a deep breath in before continuing
>"so you know how most of us guys came over to this world from our own to go seek adventure and that
sort of crap?”
>'yes’
>"well, I came over with one of those groups; there used to be a portal, very near here- it isn’t open
anymore- anyway it was just a group of guys I barely knew. We came through, and then went out looking
for adventure... and then...”
>he paused for a minute, a bit of embarrassment leaking into his expression
>"Well, we met our first group of orcs and goblins, or rather they ambushed us. There weren’t that many
of them, but enough to damage, and enough to make some of us go back”
>'You went back? Back here?’
>he grimaced
>"well no and yes; some people decided after a couple days they didn’t like it here and went back home,
like back-back. I didn’t want to go back, so I got dumped here”
>'Dumped here?’
>his embarrassment was very clear
>"yeah... I broke my leg...”
>user sat waiting for, I guess laughter, face more red with embarrassment than it deserved to be
>'That’s what you’re embarrassed about?!’
>"well I guess not that fact itself, but the fact I stayed here”
>He walked over to a boulder and sat down
>'What do you mean user? This doesn’t seem like a bad place.’
>"no it isn’t, and I didn’t go back, but I just feel like-”
>"-like I’m not a real adventurer, that I kinda failed at that and dropped out here. Even after I paid off the
guys here for healing me, I didn’t decide to go off to follow the guys I came through with-”
>'why would you need to be an “adventurer” and follow them?’

>"I don’t know...”
>'did you know any of them?’
>”...not really...”
>’and don’t you have adventures here?’
>”...not really, I just scavenge around the valley for gear.”
>I give him a firm look
>'so boredom?’
>”No... well maybe... I guess the real thing is I feel like I’m not really doing anything of impact”
>'how so?’
>"like I said, all I do is scavenge stuff; meanwhile other people are fighting orcs and saving people...”
>'...I see.’
>"yeah... that’s why I said it was lame...”
>he’s like the boys back in the great war, or any other child who crossed over here; just wanted to test his
mettle
>he checks his watch
>"we need to get going”
>as he got up and started walking again, I grab his hand
>he jumped a bit from that
>'I don’t think you’re lame for choosing to stay in a nice place like this, user. Not everyone can be a hero’
>he grimaced again
>”Over here you could”
>I stop, pulling him around to face me
>'User, the boys who left for France in 1917 felt the same, and some thought the same about the pacific
and France again in ‘41 and ‘44.’
>sullen look in return
>'and some did come back heroes, but they all came back scarred, hero or not- if they weren’t in a pine
box.’
>the sullen look slowly turns to somber thoughtfulness
>'Here too, boys come to prove themselves, and here too, some become heroes as well. Here too, they get
scarred and die.’
>"You think it’s stupid to want that...?"
>I think of my previous user
>'No, I could never say that; it’s only natural... but it is stupid to not recognize the danger, trying to be a
hero. Many a mother’s son have died seeking to be a hero, never to live a life beyond childhood.’
>”...thanks..."
>he turned back, taking his hand and rubbing it as he resumed the walk to work
>”...I still feel lame though...”
>I may have been a bit heavy handed
>'I am not saying you shouldn’t be a hero, or that you won’t-’
>"but you are saying that seeking to be a hero is foolish, I get it”
>I sigh
>that is what I was saying, isn’t it?
>I don’t mean to be so negative though
>'My response to that is that people don’t become heroes by choice-’
>"I get it; but I never said I wanted to be a hero, I just wanted to feel like I’ve had an impact on
something”
>...
>'I’m sorry user, I will drop it. Just know, I don’t think any less of you for living a simple life here’
>he looks back with a slight smile
>"I guess the issue is that I don’t feel that way about myself”


>I guess Springfield is right, in a way
>what else would I mean by “make an impact”
>I guess I choose not to think about it most of the time, how I feel about myself
>because it’s not as though I never thought about the dangerous
>that night with the fucking orc snapping my leg over his knee like a twig made me well aware of that
>it’s just, I can’t help feeling like a coward, not going back out and staying here, with an easy, no troubles
jo-
>’User!’
>faceplant.laughtrack
>pratfall backwards before I can recognize what the fuck happened
>”Oh?”
>Someone steps from behind the door of the Gun Store
>As I get pulled up by Springfield I recognize the Burgher
>”Are you alright Anon? I didn’t realize someone was behind the door”
>fucking hell I just took a pratfall in front of the big boss
>”uh yeah no I MEAN yes uh-”
>He gives me a flat look
>”I’m fine sir, just lost in thought-”
>He doesn’t change his flat look, but turns it over my shoulder
>”Who is she?”
>”uh”
>I look back at Springfield
>”she’s-”
>”SHE?”
>Aiden pokes his head out of the door
>”HA, ye already got the girl out of her shell! How about that!”
>Now the Burgher’s flat look has morphed into slight confusion.
>I notice Springfield is starting to shrink behind me
>”yeah well sir, I found this rifle a couple days ago, and it turned out to have a Waffengeist”
>the Burgher looks back
>”A waffengeist?”
>”yeah, it-”
>”I know what a waffengeist is Anon. Why is it hiding, is it shy?”
>unsure whether to say yes or no on her behalf
>’...just a little’
>The Burgher’s look changes a little bit on hearing her talk
>”Well, it is nice to meet you-”
>he looks back at me
>”you two should come in, anyhow; Aiden and I were about to go looking for you Anon”
>”you were?”

Part 4: Hike

>for the second time I recounted the story of shooting the orc
>proceed to be interrogated by the Burgher about the orc, about every detail
>where I saw it, in what direction it was, what it had, whether it talked
>even was asked about what hue of green it was and how it talked
>he then asked about the guys it killed
>actually more about the orc victims
>where were they in relation to the orc, what were they armed with, what wounds they had
>I couldn’t remember some of these, but fortunately Springfield did
>she seemed to loosen up a bit as she answered some of the questions
>well, not really relaxing so much as being more talkative
>well, “more talkative” as “less quiet;” she was very matter of fact and terse with her answers
>”finally anon, what direction were the bodies in, originally?”
>”They were going towards the edge of the clearing, but I think maybe they had bee going across”
>he already looked serious, but his face darkened with that
>”...hmmmm, I’ll have a tracker out there in any case... is there anything else either of you can tell me?”

>I’m drawing a blank, but Springfield doesn’t
>’It’s wounds mostly looked old, and for an orc it looked worn out, though it was moving with purpose’
>”really?”
>’Yes. Also...’
>she looked down a bit, both literally and figuratively
>’...one of the men’s weapons, she mentioned something’
>before I utter a “wut” I thought back to how she said she has been talking to my Garand
>the Burgher didn’t look fazed by it
>”it did? What did it say?”
>’I’m afraid it wasn’t much, all she said was that “they are coming;” she didn’t elaborate, or speak any
further’
>The Burgher frowned and sighed, closing his eyes and putting his hands behind his back
>”gods damn it all...”
>fuck that’s not a good sign
>decide to ask a possibly stupid question
>”Does this mean, that, there are orcs coming?”
>”Well, I don’t know for sure Anon...”
>Springfield isn’t satisfied by that answer
>’with all due respect, it was a single orc that seemed lost, uh...’
>”you can just call me Burgher, Sir or “boss,” and to acknowledge your query, the orc probably was lost,
however...”
>he puts his hands down on the table we had been using to discuss the map, looking around the gun store
>Aiden seems to take this as a cue and locks the front door, before going to check the back
>”...last evening, before Aiden relayed your story, a couple high and mighty elves and a tired looking
wood elf came through asking about orcs”
>Springfield made a bit of a noise at that
>the Burgher seemed to smile a bit at this before continuing
>”they were very inquisitive about there being any orc sightings in the very same direction you saw
yours. The one high elf was also adamant on asking if there were any high elves living here.”
>I feel a pit in my stomach
>”So you think that is also a sign that there are orcs coming?”
>”Almost certainly.”
>”And you think the elves might have something to do with them coming here?”
>he thought for a second before proceeding
>”Well.... this doesn’t leave this room Anon, but while I can’t say they are responsible, I definitely think
that the high elves have something to do with it”
>’...whenever disasters happen here, the damned high horse knife ears always seem to be around, like
carrion eaters on a battlefield...”
>the Burgher looked quizzically at Springfield
>”How long have you been in our lands, miss?”
>’uh, well a few years-’
>”and I imagine you’ve been around and in use for many more years?”
>’not continuously, but yes’
>”and certainly you’ve been used quite a bit here as well?”
>she paused for a minute
>’I’ve killed many orcs’
>she has?
>”Really now?”
>’Well my former user and I have; we ended up fighting greenskins quite often’
>...
>”Well it is nice to know Anon has someone a bit more experienced watching over him, but hopefully
such experience isn’t needed today. Aiden said he told you to be ready for something different-”
>he pulled out a different map with a different route plotted on it
>”-well today won’t be that much different; you’re still going to a place, still looking around, but you
won’t need to bring anything back, but yourself, and what you saw.”

>the spot was slightly west and beyond where we went the previous day
>”Ok, just go there, and look for what?”
>the burgher grimaced a bit
>”I can’t tell you anymore than that, for your own sake”
>what
>”ask your waffengeist later, I’m sure she can figure it out”
>waht
>”o-k, is it going to be dangerous then?”
>”I may be; remain vigilant, and if it looks like it will be more than can be handled, get back here, but do
so through the main road”
>fuck
>goddamnsonofabitch
>I knew the orc was bad fucking news
>”well, I’ll take your silence as understanding Anon.”
>snap back to reality
>Burgher looks concerned
>”Y-yeah I get the idea”
>”well then, I’ll see you this afternoon”
>the way he said that gave me just a bit more confidence
>just a bit


>So, not only was the orc seeking to guide more of his kin to this place, but knife ears have shown up as
well
>Experience tells me that is not good at all; high elves also showed up to Grestivit before the siege there
>and they never left, either, always lurking in the shadows
>those subhumans are more underhanded than gremlins-
>"h-hey Springfield, did you figure out what he meant?”
>'what user?’
>"about why he couldn’t tell us anymore? About where we’re going, I mean”
>you mean you haven’t user?
>of course he hasn’t, he isn’t as experienced in this world and it’s “adventures"
>I look around before spelling it out for him, in a low voice
>'Well User, if we run into those high elves, they will be very curious about what we’re doing. Curious
enough, in all likelihood, to use some of their magic to see if we’re answering truthfully”
>he looks more tense now
>"they would?”
>'Yes. High elves keep many secrets but dislike having secrets kept from them-’
>"why?!”
>'shhh!’
>I think about what the burgher said, and what or how I should tell anon
>’...because they’re arrogant bullies who don’t like being upfront with people.’
>"you’re not being very clear, Springfield”
>'well, we’re not being clear because if you’re in the dark, then you can truthfully say “you don’t know”
when they pull out their invisible magic lie detector’
>we continue in silence for a bit
>"ok, I understand that, I guess... but what do you think we’re going to come across when we get to the
spot?”
>’...that, I can’t say.’
>As we walk on a bit, I try to think of a way to calm User down
>...
>'I wouldn't worry too heavily about it, just keep alert'
>of course that won’t work
>"do you think any more orcs could've come here overnight?"
>'maybe, but if it's more than a few we will hear them, and possibly smell them long before they realize we are near'
>"and they wouldn't be able to find us?"
>I smirk recalling knowledge that while recent comparative to my other memories, had become
instinctual
>'no, not if they are in a large group, and we hide ourselves half decently. as a group, even as a squad,
greenskins are a raccous and cantakerous bunch'
>"...could they smell us?"
>'That is a half-myth. They are feral but they aren't predator animals, and few could smell that well, let
alone smell anything but their own stench. They track like we do, so watch the track you leave'
>"you seem to know alot about orcs, springfield"
>oh, maybe I can get his mind off his worries by talking about this?
>'I do; I've killed many of them, with my previous user. Even though I was little more than a stick for
scopes to the cretin that took me from him, I've not forgotten what I've learned about the beasts...'
>I think for a second before adding
>'...and, if you don't mind you can just can me Field, if it's more convenient'
>"oh, ok; I didn't think to ask... is that your name?"
>my name
>I guess it is half of my name
>'...Field is fine, for now.'
>"ok... well, do you mind telling me about your orc killing, then?"
>my orc killing... my memories...
>"if it doesn't bother you-"
>'It shouldn't.'
>after all, I have the user here, and we both have a purpose to keep ourselves partly aware
>'well, much like yourself, my user and I crossed over but a few days after the portals happened. He and
what started out as a posse were chasing after a band of greenskins that had made the mistake of trying to
raid a town filled with armed, determined people. Most people were content having run them off, but the
more courageous ones like my old user felt that such a menace should be wiped out, lest they harm more
people.'
>'And thus began our two year long war on the vomit-necks'.
>"couple years?"
>'Yep. We followed them through wood for a few days, till we were led to their main group, that was
attacking one of the towns here; mostly humans. we drove them away long enough to get in, where in
spite of being foreigners we were welcomed in as friends. The town had been besieged for months, and
though the orcs had been kept at bay, it had not been without gross loss.'
>"so you fought for a couple years there-"
>'No of course not; wars are rarely fought in one place. Don’t interrupt and listen'
>”...sorry..."
>'We beat that "main group" off in a matter of days, and for most that was enough, and they went back
home. My user, and some others, however, decided that they wanted to stay, and got recruited to go fight
the orcs again. It turned out, that "main group," wasn't the main group.'
>'We followed that horde as a part of a company of soldiers.’
>"Mercenaries?”
>'Yes and no. Not mercenaries, really, though we did ask for payment whenever and however it could be
gotten. More a sort a group of people who wanted to see the orcs gone; there were other people from the
old world, some fighters from this one, some dwarves, some elves, even some other races.’


>”They all just were there to fight the orcs?”
>'Well, I also think everyone there had been attacked before, had lost something to them’
>"oh”
>'we were taught, and learned much about orcs, about how they act, how intelligent, or stupid they could
be, how they conduct “war.” And most certainly, how to kill them”
>at this point we began to pass the clearing we were at yesterday
>I feel more reassured after walking for a while
>Field’s experience helps with that
>I stop for a minute to look for the bodies
>the adventurers gone; I suppose the dwarves might’ve buried them, or cremated them on a pyre
>the orc body was still there thought
>"Is that where you learned about the neck thing, Field?”
>She had also stopped to look also
>'Yes. Head shots do work, and at that distance we could’ve made follow-ups, but aiming there increased
the chances of both hitting and hitting for effect. And besides-’
>she turns and catches my eyes
>'It also paralyzes them while they bleed out. It is terrifying and, I believe, painful for them’
>something swam in her clouded left eye as she said that
>I suddenly felt very uneasy again, looking at that gaze
>"...you believe?”
>'that it’s painful; I know it is terrifying to them’
>I don’t want to ask how she knows
>”well, you really hate them... but if the goal is for them to suffer, then why make the follow up shot?”
>’they can still scream, cry sometimes’
>ok now I know how she knows
>her gaze shifts back from... whatever she was doing before
>’I’ve scared you haven’t I?’
>yeahyoucouldsaythat
>she frowns, looking down and playing with her hands
>’...and after I got you to calm down...’
>”...did... did the orcs do something to you?”
>she looks at me, then back at the field
>’no, but they did to my user. It was very personal to him, so I guess I took it personal over time as
well...’
>I realize she’s drifting off again
>”how about we continue, to the place?”
>Field shuts her eyes and turns away
>’yes, shall we’
>I hear a quiet ‘thank you’ under her breath
>I check the compass, align our map and check the course
>”ok, now we go west, and look for what ever we are meant to see”
>I’m on edge again so I decided to get Field to talk some more
>”so, back to your story; you and your old user’s, uh, group, followed an orc warband for two years?”
>’Yes.’
>I look back to see her with her eyes closed
>’I think, to the far east of here-’
>”...maybe on the other border of this kingdom.”
>’we are on a border?’
>now it’s my turn to think
>”we are on the frontier of... I don’t remember the country’s name, it was something dumb...”
>’a bit of a theme here, yes.’
>”...to the west, starting with the mountains, are the dwarves. To the north there’s an old growth forest
that’s wood elf territory. To the east and south is the rest of the kingdom, which is human, and to the far
far north somewhere is a few high elf strongholds.”
>’I see... well, we fought a running campaign; we tracked them, and while we defended cities in their
path, we also sometimes ambushed them. We were a pain in their side.”
>’However, we were a big enough pain to them that they decided we were a bigger priority then their
base savagery.’
>It takes me a couple seconds to realize that she stopped walking as well as talking
>I look back; she has that distant look again
>”Field?”
>she surprised me with how quick she responded

>’We had broken off into groups, because the orcs had done so. Some more hopeful people thought there
may have been an infight, and that the war band dissolved, but we wanted to be sure. My old user and I
though, we were part of the group in charge of setting up a camp near and procuring supplies from the
town ahead.’
>”and I’m guessing they suddenly came back”
>she gave a bitter smile
>’It was called Grestivit. It was not a small town, they did have their own guard and walls, but they
weren’t really that big or prosperous either. We almost considered taking our chances and waiting for the
next city, but that next city being a fortnight off we decided some supplies were better than none.’
>Grestivit, why does that sound familiar
>Field chuckled bitterly before continuing
>’they almost threw us out because they thought we’d take all their foodstuffs when they said they
wouldn’t sell them all out.’
>her face began to drop
>’but then, as we cleared that up with the head guard, there was a commotion; he ran off, guards ran all
over, they yelled at us to help, and then bells sounded-’
>’...then the roars and screams...’
>”You don’t have to-”
>’no, I am going to.’
>she exhales out her nose before continuing
>’We barely managed to hold them off that day, but they breached the "wall," and had us besieged. The
other groups were on their tails, but they were now outside the encirclement, with dwindling provisions.
We on the inside had food, but limited ammo, and Grestivit would not have been able to last that day had
we not been there with our arms. Things were bleak.’
>’what was worse was that the rest of our group were not allowed to to regroup outside, instead being
hunted down, not allowed to make any plan. Only later did we learn, there seemed to also be some other
force attacking our own.’
>Other force?
>she crossed her arms, now looking slightly down
>’And all the while the things kept probing into the town through the breaches they made; we wanted to
push them back out, but we didn’t have the strength to do so, only enough to keep them from moving in
further en masse’
>’Eventually, some of our company who were not run off or killed outside managed to sneak in, and we
made a plan to breakout of the city, and get the people of the town evacuated; it was a desperate plan, and
it would see the town destroyed, but it was all we could hope to do.’
>she had walked over near a tree, the look on her face growing more distant
>’We backed off from the breaches, when they did another push; predictably, upon seeing their scouts
make progress, the majority of that horde began to desert their positions outside and beeline it into the
breeches, only to meet fire, explosions, and their doom. Those who weren’t crushed found the holes in the
town wall now ablaze, or obstructed by the collapsed remnants of some now burning buildings.’
>’In the confusion, with every truck, wagon, horse and ass packed with as many people as they could
hold, we burst through the gate least watched, with all men capable of fighting in the rear’
>she leaned back against the tree
>’we only trapped half of them, but by some miracle only pittance of them noticed and pursued; though
we lost them, a few miles later some of our group decided to stop and engage them, so that none could
draw the hoard after us...’

>I feel myself slowly lower down, against the tree
>’...I’m sure, had things been different, they may have been our new comrades in arms...’
>I can feel that user senses how this story ends, walking over and sitting by me
>”you don’t need to continue-”
>’it was night, and at that moment the clouds shrouded the moon. We did not have any night fighting
equipment, save for some star flares, but we didn’t want to use them, lest we lure more orcs. We would
hear orcs coming though, and we planned to use the last of our fire bombs to illuminate them, and we would finish them...”
>’that did not happen though, we would not hear... whoever had come...
>I feel myself shake a bit
>but I also feel the need to face this
>”...field-”
>’...we hardly finished preparing... for one, last ambush... when that first shot rang out...’
>I need to let this out
>'we were at first confused; then we heard the orcs coming, and the man responsible for throwing the
molotovs failed to do so. Then another shot rang out
>'at that point we opened up, but the orcs were upon us already, and a bloody melee broke out...
>some one managed to get a fire going, maybe with Daniel’s bombs?
>we were attempting to kill those orcs we could, but we could only get the few on the fringe of the fight,
and only if no one was beyond them
>all the while, we saw some fall to rifle fire... well, I saw them fall to rifle fire
>but I did not see that shot, though I heard it
>remembering, it still echoes in my mind
>falling, I was in my gun form then; there was no need to be out of it, but I wish I was, I might’ve seen
that shot
>falling we fell to the side, to the cold ground
>and I could only watch then, stunned
>"Field! Field!”
>'w-what-?”
>I’m not sure how, but I’m on my side now, on the ground, with my current user over me
>'did I do it again?’
>"Do what again?”
>'Drown in my memories...’
>he is confused for a but a moment
>"no, you were talking about... and you just fell over now...”
>his expression is soaked in secondhand sorrow and pain
>'oh... well I guess I was drowning in a different way this time...’
>he helps me up off the ground
>everything feels much warmer that it was a second ago
>'I was still talking?’
>"yes, but you were in a trance, sort of”
>he moves to be face to face
>"you didn’t need to go that far Field.”
>'I wanted to; I didn’t want to clam up again.’
>'My only regret is that I seem to have made you hurt as well’
>he moves back to sitting next to me
>”...Field...”
>we sit together in silence for a bit, decompressing, and letting time go by
>User’s warmth against me feels reassuring to me
>"I’m sorry...”
>'It wasn’t, isn’t your fault.’
>"but it-”
>'It also wasn’t my fault either, I accept that now. I just felt like I needed to face that, let it out...'
>after a little longer, I breathe deeply out, looking up to the sky
>blue with splotches of clouds in the crisp autumn air; the sun is but a little ways past noon
>'Thank you for listening through that last part User; We should get back to our task.’
>I got up, the user quickly motioning to help me
>I smile, taking his hand but not his arm; I instead put it back at his side
>'I am glad you’re quite the gentleman user, but I am fine’
>I expect him to be a little hurt by that, but he instead seems a bit more incredulous
>"Well you just went through all that-”
>he stops and shakes his head

>"you’re teasing me”
>'just an attempt at some levity'
>he pouts for a second before restoring his bearings and resuming the hike towards our objective
>"I guess you don’t know very much about what happened after... that.”
>'I never found out what happened to the people who kept going. For all I know they made it to another
city, and the group still exists. But there, that night, not one thing survived, save myself.’
>"thing?”
>'Yes; whoever was out there, in that black, they killed off the orcs as well.’
>”...maybe another orc...?”
>'Doubtful, but whoever it was, we were there, in that dilemma because of orcs. And if there was ever a
reason for my hate of them to be purely personal, and not learned nor inherited, that would be it.’
>we walk for a little bit in silence before User starts talking again
>”hm... Grestivit... that sounded familiar-”
>User stops, then put his head to the palm of his hand
>"damn it why didn’t I remember that?”
>'...what?’
>"that group I crossed over with, the guys who were “in charge,” they were constantly talking about
going to join a new army or something to reclaim a town, out east...”
>he stops and looks at me
>'what?’
>"well... maybe that was your old group?”
>'maybe’
>he looks at me for a bit before continuing, both in speech and stride
>"Maybe you’d want to go back?”
>'If I did, it would be more to see where everyone is, and less to reconnect.’
>it would be a vain attempt to amend my memories
>User suddenly slowed down and got low, talking low now
>"do you see that up there”
>he points, and in the distance I can see some things around a smoldering fire
>'a camp; that probably is what we are meant to scout’
>"can you see anyone?”
>'no, but we should approach quietly...’
>"if there is someone, and they ask?”
>'we went for a walk and were told to be careful; there was an orc spotted...’
>”...yes there was...”
>with that we advanced low in the bush
>we stopped some 20 yards away
>user whispered faintly
>"voices, two I think?”
>I think back to my days of night raids, and counter night raids
>'we can approach a little more;’
>I point to a small thicket that wrapped to the side of the camp
>'there, move while they talk, watch your footing, stay low’
>slow but steady we enter the thicket; User tries looking trough or over it, but I tug on his sleeve from
below
>'no fool, we stay low, even here’
>he lowers himself to my level
>down low there are more gaps to see through
>disconcertingly so
>but not for User
>he slowly crawls a bit forth, probably to get a better view of the camp
>not wanting to make a noise, and being curious myself, I follow
>as we crawl the voices become clearer
>"leave it to that stupid goblin to ignore instructions and chase some damned portal humans-"
>instructions?

>User seems to also be intrigued at this, stopping still to listen
>"knowing the portal humans, they would've struck first."
>"But to ignore our warnings and follow them into the Naivain Forest? It's madness even for a filthy
green-one to do.”
>sounds of scoffing
>"You know, I had hope, just the faintest hope, that this time would be different, that they’d just follow a
simple order and not go off and create a mess-”
>the second voice began it’s rebuttal
>"Relax brother, it has been but a day, and one has emerged from the Forest-”
>"oh yes, the only one that managed to track two blundering portal monkeys, the one that is dead!”
>we hear the sound of something hitting something else and objects falling over
>"Come now, the others will follow; it’s not as though the children of the earth’s gardens will actually
fight them? No, they will merely sweep them out in good time-"
>User starts slowly shuffling further over in the thicket to get a view inside the tent
>"-and besides, we should take advantage of the quiet time we have now to find the fellow we're looking
for. It will help greatly when the diversion does get here to know where he is already"
>User slows and stops, and I settle next to him as we finally see the souls inside the tent
>two high elves, both with a great resemblance to each other, one sitting on a stool next to an overturned
hammock, the other standing next to him
>"You're right, I'm just upset. I expected that human to be..."
>the User and I both freeze up as the sullen elf looks in our direction
>he ceases to breathe, and I fight the urge to disappear back into my gun form
>the second elf ceased the silence
>"More forthcoming? He doesn't know who we're looking for exactly of course. With the story we told
him, a lone scholar in woods like this could have easily been killed. As far as he can tell, we're looking for
a body"
>the other one waited a good 3 seconds before before looking away and continuing
>"...not exactly what I meant. I guess, he seemed more wary than I expected. Far too wary..."
>He couldn’t have not seen us; is he toying with us?

>"Well he wasn't lying to us, when we asked. It could also be the fact that this one seems to be a dwarf-
lover, so many of those stout, stubborn louts about."
>"That may be a point but what truly struck me was they way he worded his answers to us. It was too...
specific"
>"Maybe he recognizes our station above him and was trying to be a specific in his answers...?"
>"No, he knew about our ability to divine falsehood... damn it, I should have asked some vague
questions... but that probably would've made him more suspicious..."
>The angry one looks back to his compatriot
>"Do you think it beneficial to go back, perhaps?"
>"No, because he'll be even more suspicious"
>"Maybe send the wood elf?"
>"No, I doubt she was very fond of the place, and she'd lack tactfulness;”
>”indeed good point... where even is the tree climber at the moment?"
>”I’ve not the slightest”
>"well then, I guess, we should figure where to search, in this sea of trees..."
>With only two of them?
>"That will not be so hard; the exile we're looking for would be at a camp, and, this being the virgin
frontier wedged between the scornful Dwarves and our loyal gardeners, there are relatively few camps to
check."
>So they’re searching for an exile; another high elf?


>FuckFuckFuck
>the only thought in my mind after the angry high elf had looked in our direction
>I shouldn’t have crawled forward that much
>Why hasn’t he said anything about us, is this fucker toying with us?
>as I wound down just a bit, I started to pay more attention to their conversation again
>"could they flee?" asked the mellow one
>"not to the dwarves; they'd imprison them and kill them, and our partners are already camped out on the
road leading to Hamptrill."
>...so there is more of them... not just the two...
>that makes me a bit more worried
>"That just leaves the woods to the southwest..."
>"they'd never dare that."
>why, the woods down there weren’t anymore dangerous than these ones
>unless they knew about some other thing
>the mellow elf finally deigned to leave walk out of the tent
>"That tracker is still not back..."
>"Oh fie! let her do whatever she's doing; let us work our way along the mountains, and get a lay of the
land, trails and camps. Lest she come back and make some snide remark on us being useless"
>the angry one grabbed a staff and the other an overburdened satchel before setting off
>"Why couldn't we stay in Niavain and get another, less bothersome tracker?"
>The High Elves leave their little camp, working their way west, towards the river as they bemoan their
wood elf guide
>I didn’t want to move, still a bit spooked by the fact that the one guy looked at us
>I mean, he had to have seen us, right?
>Field went about as rigid as I did, so I didn’t just imagine that
>Right?!
>The whining of the angry guy shrinks disappearing into the background noise of the faint breeze in the
leaves and a few birds
>After a little more time, Field was the first to talk
>’He, he did look at us right?’
>”...yeah...”
>'how the hell did he not see us?'
>before I could voice my disbelief, an unfamiliar voice responded
>"Because they're oblivious, pompous imbeciles"
>Freeze up
>resist urge to shit brick or jump
>whatdoIdowhatdoIdo
>slowly look over at Field
>mouth “what do”
>she gives a “what do you think?” look
>she looks right as I look slowly left
>maybe they got behind us? I didn’t hear anything, but...
>very, very slowly, roll over partially and look behind us
>nothing
>are they invisible?
>”Thorough but not enough human”
>shit self again
>”oh relax, if I had any ill will I would’ve acted on it already and told the others about you when they
were here”
>wait so this is another elf
>I half consciously talk back at this point
>”so you’re the wood elf?”
>”I am”
>Field is giving me a look between puzzled and “what are you doing”
>”and you have no ill will”
>”like I said I could have just told the jaundiced duo”
>Field piped up
>’And so we should trust you, why?’
>”why not?”
>’Knife ear.’

>Does Field hate elves too?
>faint, ominous sounding chuckling echoed in response, soft and thin
>”Field I don’t think it’s a good idea to piss her off”
>the chuckling thickened into a quiet laugh
>”...your companion is more experienced than you, human. Her mistrust is perfectly reasonable; I will,
however, point out that out of the two types of elves in these woods, I am the more trustworthy of them.”
>’and what proof do you have to convince us of that?’ Field snapped back
>”well to start, I could tell you where I am, perhaps that would put you a little at ease?”
>Field kept quiet, looking a bit sullen
>I decided to bite
>”Ok, where are you?”
>”up here.”

>I roll over completely to search the trees above, pushing a bit out from under the bramble bush
>immediately my eyes land on a bundle of tree-moss that wasn’t there before
>Start pulling out my pistol, but restrain myself from immediately pointing at them
>’You aren’t going to aim, user?’
>I look at Field to see her eyeing the moss pile intently
>”She’s right you know, I could let an arrow fly at any time” 
>the moss started to move, lifting itself off the branch to reveal first a pair of legs, then a pair of arms
>lastly a head, one arm lifting away a veil to reveal the elf’s face, and a slight grin
>’god I hate how damn smug they are’ Field whispered under her breath
>”I don’t see a bow”
>”counter to common belief, we do not always carry them” the elf replied
>’You still haven’t told us why we shouldn’t shoot you keebler’
>the elf’s grin became a bit more prominent
>”Why don’t you get me yourself, spirit?”
>is Field fucking growling?
>”Ok, enough of that; you said you’d show us where you were to start, that means there was something else, right?”
>”Correct, human. You can trust me, because I do not trust the high elves.”
>”...what?”
>’...does anyone trust high elves…?’
>”I didn’t misspeak my human have I? I do not trust them, because they haven’t deigned to trust me”
>”Oh? What do you mean?”
>”Those arrogant fools lied about what they were doing, not just to me, but the Alders.”
>’High elves lied about something, big shock. How is this relevant?’
>”They had told us they needed help finding a scholar of theirs who got lost; as they had no escort, we knew this was immediately bullshit, and I was tasked not to track their scholar, but to track down their true purpose”

>”which was?”
>she leaned back a bit and began smiling a bit more openly
>”well they are looking for an exile, obviously; u-ser, was that your name?”
>”No; so wait, you don’t trust the high elves then?”
>”well as your spirit there has hinted, no one trusts the high elves-”
>’What about the green skins.’ Field cut in
>this put the wood elf on the back foot, as she stopped smiling
>’They said the green skins were instructed. They are on their way here are they not?’
>The wood elf made a thoughtful expression
>then in a blur and an explosion of needles, leaves and moss, she was on the ground in front of us
>after wiping some of the forest floor off my face, I looked at the wood elf, who was also brushing some of her dark hair out of her face
>”I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tell you some things”
>she crossed her legs, sitting forwards slightly
>”These two came to us whining about a lost scholar, as if we did not know High Elves do not let scholars out of their sanctums.”
>”Then some orcs of the more organized mind make their way into our forest, talking about a high elf. After coming from High Elf territory.’
>’More organized mind… organized how…?’ Field asked, more to herself then the elf
>The elf was content to just continue
>”Well naturally we found this very curious. So I was sent along”
>”To spy on them and find out about the exile?” I asked
>”Not quite correct. We don’t care about the exile; we care about the orcs.”
>”You think there is a connection between the High Elves and orcs-”
>Field cuts in
>’You said the orcs were organized. How?’


>I yelled that question that was emblazoned upon my mind without intending to
>the passion with which it escaped me seemed to have even wiped that damned smug look 
>maybe they think it’s a neutral look
>"Is it so hard to believe that orcs can be of an orderly mind? Counter to common belief they are not thoughtless creatures”
>'Organized implies they are not just an angry horde’
>the wood elf looked perplexed, then slightly annoyed
>"I thought you said you had been with an army that fought orcs, surely you knew that?”
>'I-I never said such a thing-’
>"Field,” User chimed in, “she might have been following us” 
>'u-uh... oh’
>of course they had
>I have not felt such anger since the Philippines
>...
>ok that’s an overstatement, but I still very much am displeased with this 
>"Look, I understand that the story may have been private, but when I came across you two I had to follow you, just in case-”
>'In case what?’ 
>"In case they spotted you, what do you think? Not just because I thought it’d be helpful to talk to you, at least, but because I don’t want to know what these mages would do to prisoners”
>so they were mages
>"Hypothetically, what would they do?” asked user
>"Let’s say these two are very definitely trained to “discern truth” and “ensure compliance”, by any means necessary”
>'I’m sure they are if they are looking for an exile’
>"Right; so can I get back to my point? We won’t have forever, and I’m not sure...”
>the wood elf looked around
>"These are not the only two. they mentioned it, but there are at least four more in the valley.”
>She looked directly at me before continuing
>"The orcs they may be coordinating with are higher Ruzind; that means ones that can pass as brutish mercenaries.”
>"I think they are planning to use the orcs to flush their prey out, and some how catch them, but I doubt they care what comes of the town. Please, tell your leaders”

>"Why not tell them yourself?” User asked
>"I can only observe for now”
>'That’s not the full answer, is it’ I said
>"Even now I take a big risk telling either of you of this, of the one without the staff reading my mind and calling me a traitor”
>I could barely see it, but she shivered slightly
>"So they send you home?”
>"No.”
>User looks concerned
>”...they kill you...?”
>"If I am lucky.”
>as much as elves confound me, at least this one seems to care enough to warn us, in the face of being a high elf prisoner
>'We will tell them to be ready’
>"Good. There are at least 40 of them. One more thing; if you think we should commune again, check the old alder at the river”
>and in a bound, she was up in the trees again
>"now go”
>the alder at the river?
>I sigh internally and decide User surely knows
>...
>a while later as we walked back in silence, user finally decided to talk
>"You think we can trust the wood elf?”
>'Enough of what she said lines up with what we eavesdropped'
>"Field, do you hate elves too?”
>'I don’t hate elves; I dislike ones I don’t know, and I try not to trust any of them’
>"Because you think they’re dishonest?”
>I really must work with my User, he truly is far to inexperienced with the fantasy folk
>'Some would say they are natural born liars. I would say they have a chronic habit of just not giving people the full picture.'
>"So they don’t mean to?"
>'Sometimes intentionally, I’d say more often unintentionally, except...
>except the only type of elf I truly hate
>”...high elves?”
>'High Elves are liars. Even to other elves. I would say it is part of their superiority complex, like any other elf, but the jaundiced ones have a kind of... contempt, nay, malice, for everyone else.’
>User was silent for a bit longer before asking his next question
>"What did you think of what she said about being made into a prisoner?”
>'I have no doubt that they would, and I doubt they’d treat her nicely. I couldn’t tell you more than that.’

>User seemed tense after we made it back and reported to the burger
>burgher
>the boss, we reported to the boss
>Repeated what we had overheard from the high elves, and the wood elf
>the only response from the boss were grunts of affirmation
>"So do you believe the Elf?” Anon asked
>"About what Anon”
>"The orcs”
>"Not really a matter of belief; with the one you spotted, and some messages I got from some friends along the northern road, it’s more a matter of whether her guess on the number of them is correct”
>'You don’t think the elf was lying’
>"I’ve been around this region for my whole life; the tree break, the perimeter mountains, even ancients grave...”
>He glanced at us
>"...well you two don’t know about these places; what I mean to say is that I’ve been around and learned wisdom from all around. Wood Elves are only superficially cordial to the High Elves, they very much disdain them and stay away from their affairs, usually”
>'that is new knowledge to me’ I grumbled
>"the fact they even gave them a wood elf says to me that the wood elves suspect something foul is afoot”
>'Why did she bother warning us then? I thought wood elves were apathetic to other races at best.’
>"The Wood Elves of Naivian are good neighbors, at least more “good” or “neighborly”  wood elves could be expected to be with a group of Dwarves and Humans who cut trees for a living.”
>considering how close this logging town was to the old growth forest on the map, I suppose he was right
>"Ok so then, what about what she said about there being other High Elves?” said Anon
>The boss, grunted a bit more
>"I will need to talk to the team about that.”
>"So then we need to focus on being ready for the orcs?”
>"Anon, I won’t know what exactly we’re doing until I talk to the team. It’s the Dwarves’ town as well, after all. Besides, we already have started preparing, we’ve already posted some sentries.”
>Anon looked down, still looking unsure

>"I know you’re probably anxious, I know you want to be useful, but you’ve done what I wanted today and I don’t have anything else. Come back tomorrow when I do. And you-”
>he faced me but then looked confused again
>"-uh, miss, weapon-”
>'Field is fine’
>"Alright, keep him from doing anything rash”
>'What?’
>"I don’t know, just help him calm down”

>I mull on this statement as we walk back to User’s cabin 
>it was a very specific request to make, 
>like an officer telling a soldier to calm another shell shocked man down
>is user that important to this place, was this an “every man counts” decision?
>If it was that kind of situation with orcs, most would be scared, or fairly concerned
>The Burgher seemed agitated, but not scared though
>"Are you angry with me Field?”
>I was once again pulled from the sea of my thoughts by user
>'huh-?”
>at least I wasn’t drowning in memories
>'I was thinking- why would I be angry?’
>"well, angry might be the wrong word, maybe embarrassed”
>'I’m not embarrassed User”
>"Well burgher must’ve been angry at how nervous I am”
>'I don’t think he was angry user’
>"Frustrated then”
>'I do not think he was frustrated at you.’
>"Well he did ask you to calm me down"
>'User you do need to stop worrying, I think he has a plan’
>we walked a bit in silence
>"what else would he be frustrated with?”
>I thought for a moment
>'I don’t think it is even with the orcs coming to the town, 40 is a small number to contend with. An easy number to contend with, when you’re prepared and on the defense’
>'I imagine though that if work must be done further out, in small crews, then the possibility of there being even a few orcs will be a disruption’
>"so, do you think they will do that?”
>’well, it isn’t that simple, because that depends on how smart the orcs are; the elves mentioned a goblin, and them being able to take orders...’
>"but they also mentioned them not being able to follow orders”
>’...yes, so you can see how this may be up in the air’
>"that would be frustrating”
>'More than that, however, was why the high elves and orcs are here- they are looking for another high elf. He may be flummoxed about someone being in the town he knew not of’


>while the orcs were still on my mind, thinking about what was going on calmed me down a bit
>someone being in the town he knew not of, she says
>I remembered something as we approached my cabin
>”I wonder, maybe it’s someone he does know about”
>’What, Who?’
>”well, remember the elf exiles I mentioned?”
>she stopped for a second 
>’oh yes…’
>’why didn’t I think of that’ she whispered under her breath
>”let’s go inside before continuing”
>I go inside and Field shuts the door behind us
>before talking I go and put a pot of water onto my stove to boil
>’what are you cooking’
>”not sure yet, just want something on”
>I lean back against the counter
>”so, the Elf exile I mentioned, he is a high elf”
>’I figure that User; how do you know he’s hiding’
>”Well, remember how my leg got broken? He was the one to fix it. I didn’t know he was a high elf until later, but by then it was clear that we don’t mention him”
>I decide that to retrieve some dried sausage and potatoes and put them in the pot
>of course I washed the potatoes
>I look back to see Field making a weird face before continuing
>’well, I could see how having him could be helpful, healing magic and all th-
>”oh he didn’t use magic to fix my leg”
>’what’
>”well maybe he or the apothecary used a little bit to make it go a little faster but they put my leg in a splint and then later a cast”
>Field looked out the window with a bemused look
>’This is such a town of outcasts’
>she got up and walked across the room
>then grabbed the potatoes and sausages out of the pot
>”wha-”
>’you don’t know what you’re cooking’

>”well I mean, I do-”
>’And what pray-tell were you going to cook?’
>”...sausage and potatoes…”
>’By boiling them?’
>”...yes…”
>she sighed
>’Let me teach you something better, do you have any onions’
>she didn’t even wait before pushing me aside and pulling out a smaller onion, then proceeding the chop it up
>potatoes, chopped up
>’Skillet’ she said, this time in a tone similar to how she instructed me to shoot the other day
>naturally, I obeyed mechanically
>’put a little oil or butter in the skillet’
>”ok”
>’There, everything is chopped up, now we fry it, potatoes first’
>’then sausage’
>’then onions’
>she stirred them in
>’then some seasonings’
>in went some pepper and salt
>”Hey go easy on that stuff, it’s not exactly easy to come by!”
>’I figure that but these are mostly full, and not exactly new; what’s the point of having it if you never use it’
>she stirred some more then turned off the heat
>’There, a real meal.’
>two bowls were filled with the meal before I knew it
>’Skillets, learn to use them’
>she held it up for a second, before putting it into the sink
>”what was that?”
>’I was thinking about tapping you on the head with it, but it is still hot’
>how silly
>That seemed out of Field’s character
>then again I’ve only been talking to her for a day
>’I’m sorry if I seemed a little…’
>”bossy?”
>’that’s a nicer word for it, yes; I just can’t stand people not knowing basic skills’
>”I mean I know how to cook”
>’It’s not that, I’ve not doubt you know how to fry things; the issue is that you weren’t really thinking about making a meal’
>I’m must’ve rolled my eyes cause she got more indignant
>’Meals are more efficient, meals feed you better because they’re not just meat and bread or starch, and they will make you feel better’


>'Now...’ 
>I paused as I walked over to the small table and sat down to eat
>’...what were we discussing before...’
>"You said something about the town being weird”
>'right!’ 
>I took a spoonful of food before continuing
>I dwelled upon the taste; how long had it been since I had a dinner?
>”...right?”
>'huh- oh’
>I’m letting myself drown again
>'right, a high-elf using regular aid to heal’
>"Ok I guess that’s weird Field but would the high elves want to kill another over using non-magic medicine?”
>User is now fully focused upon the issue of who the elves are looking for rather than the orcs
>he is calm now; the cooking lesson took care of that
>that’s good
>'No, I suppose not.’
>I mull this over
>'Though I could see why he is an exile, I doubt they'd want him’
>hmm
>'maybe... they could have been a point of contact for the exile?’
>"What?"
>'I mean the one exile might have helped the other one escape’
>"oh” 
>'Well maybe we could stop in tomorrow and ask them?'
>User looked thoughtful for a moment before answering
>"I mean I’m sure we could ask miss willow, but...”
>’...but?’
>"Well,” User looked up “Doc Ezzail is a bit weird”
>everyone is weird around here user, I thought to myself
>'Judging by the names, he’s the high elf, and the other is the wood elf’
>"yes”
>'and by weird, I assume you mean paranoid?’
>"yes,” user paused “but that is only part of it”

>'Well I guess I will find out tomorrow then’
>"we can duck in after whatever job we end up getting...”
>a trickle of concern found it’s way back into his eyes
>'I’m sure it wouldn’t be anything dangerous, user. They wouldn’t intentionally send one person into harm’s way'
>I take a second to think about whether I truly believed that; I don’t really know the leader or anyone else here
>even User is still new, though I am quickly getting an idea of how he is
>they didn’t know about the orc, the first day
>but they did know about the high elves on the second, and getting caught by them would not have been pleasant
>although, user was the one who decided to get close enough to eavesdrop; we had never been told to spy, just scout
>and we shot the orc because it was readying a nice bonfire, were it not for that we could have snuck away
>"you ok Field?”
>'ah’
>his arm was part way out, ready to jostle if I was unresponsive
>"you’re not getting.... lost in thought again?”
>'No, thank you, I was just thinking about today and yesterday’s main events’
>"but you don’t think it’ll be dangerous? Whatever task they give”
>'I think, that if we are careful, and more aware, it probably will be safe.’

>concern turned to befuddlement
>'For a start, getting so close to the elves was a risk you did not have to take. From now on’
>I word it nicely, and not honestly
>'let’s keep our courage in check, and at least reconnoiter more thoroughly, ok?'
>now the befuddlement became indignation
>"I- we were told to go scout it out”
>'yes; not to play spy’
>"but we wouldn’t have gotten any of the info we heard if we didn’t!”
>'The wood elf would have told us’
>"You don’t know that, and what if the wood elf hadn’t?”
>'in any case we could have been more careful, remember how big of a gap there was in the bush? We both thought the one elf saw us”
>now he looked a little defeated, he couldn’t say anything about that
>'I’m not really mad about sneaking up on them user, but getting even closer was a bit careless; I hope you can see what I mean when I say we should be more careful’
>defeat to sulking
>"you could’ve stopped me, silently”
>'yes, I could have. I did say “we,” after all’
>'I could’ve also helped by just allowing myself to be carried, instead of being another walking, talking, person sized object to be spotted. I will probably be in my rifle body more often from now on’
>"How would we talk?”
>'how I recall it, was that only the person I talk at can hear me. I do not think they have to be holding me, but merely be close; generally Old User understood-’
>for a second-long eternity I nearly fall into the abyss of thought
>to call that User I served so long “Old User”
>'Sacrilege!’ I thought, angry at myself
>that anger from one part of myself was matched by another
>I had to stop myself and return to the present; that User was gone
>that user was gone
>bitter thoughts
>'-though, everyone can still hear you, User, so you must be careful, or perhaps use hand signs’
>User didn’t seem to notice
>"could I talk low? would you hear?”
>'I think so, but still use discretion, be careful’


>This made me wonder
>”Field, what exactly can you do?”
>’what do you mean?’
>”As a geist?”
>’She looked more confused’
>“I’m pretty sure you know lots of practical knowledge, in general, about how to fight and shoot, but what specifically are your abilities as a geist”
>she cocked her head down and looked off to her left, touching her face a bit
>’...as a geist…’
>”Like how you can come out here, or phase into the gun”
>that made her chuckle a bit
>’well, “come out” implies that I leave my gun form’
>wut
>she shook her head
>’Anon I am the rifle, remember. I just also choose to show myself like this…’
>she trailed off, looking off to the side again
>’it’s hard to really explain how it works, but this is how it’s been for me ever since I woke up.’
>what does she mean, woke up
>’actually I’m lucky, some geists can’t manage to both be in gun-form and person-form’
>”wait so some geists shapeshift?”
>’...you could say that yes; yeah, let’s go with that’
>”Ok, so I guess, another thing, can you operate yourself?”
>she stopped looking off and looked straight in my eyes
>’Define “operate” for me.”
>”Well you were able to move your bolt and sight”
>’yes, I can control parts of my body, yes’
>she got a stern look
>’I know what you’re going to ask, and no, I cannot.’ 
>”You can’t fire yourself”
>’No.’
>”Not even if you held your gun-form an-”
>’No.’
>”But you said you can control your parts”
>she exhaled sharply 
>’Yes, I can, but I am a rifle User’
>’Rifles, if they are in proper working order, do not discharge unless fired by a user’
>”yes-”
>’If a rifle discharges on it’s own, it is not in working order. It is malfunctioning.’
>...
>’Do you understand?’
>’I, might, be able to fire myself, but to do so would require me being broken, even if I did it with my “person form.” I hope you can understand that, user’

>I get another idea
>”ok, I understand that, and I want bother you on that, but how about this; you can hold things, right?”
>’only as long as I’m out as a person, if I stop it’ll just drop, so I’m afraid I can’t help carry much, I have to take breaks eventually’
>”Could you hold another gun?”
>’...yes…’
>”Could you fire another gun?”
>she sat there frozen for a bit
>’I… I’m not sure…’
>”in that case, neither gun would be discharging themselves”
>she made a humming noise
>’I, think, I could,’ she stammered
>”Could we try sometime, and figure it out?”
>she thought for a second
>’...sure User, I suppose I could try… not with your garand though. That would be too much’
>”what”
>’The garand, she’s half awake, it would be too… it wouldn’t be proper’
>”What do you mean half-awake, and awake…?”
>again, she looked off
>I wasn’t always, aware, able to think, until the portals happened. I don’t think any waffengeists were. Even then, to my knowledge, not all of us were able to just “wake up,” and take a person-form’
>”So, my garand is stuck in-” I paused  “wait, no you said you are the rifle,”
>Field nodded. ‘This is why I say half awake, and maybe that is not even the best term. She is aware, but unable to do things a full waffengeist like myself can do. I can hear her, though, and other half awake geists’
>I look at my garand, leaning in the cubby I made for it, or her
>Suddenly realize any number of my guns could’ve been “half-awake” and been witness to any number of embarrassing things
>’Are you ok User?’
>”Just having a bit of an existential crisis”
>’huh?’
>contemplate having Field go through and tell me which are geists and which aren’t

>Eventually decide to go to sleep after figuring out the plan for tomorrow
>mentally go over the plan in my head as I get into sleep wear
>the plan; check in with da boss, do... whatever, and at some point go pester the apothecary and have Field try firing the M1 carbine or my 1911
>’Hey user-’
>”AH”
>’Oh relax,’ she said indignantly ‘I’ve seen men in far worse shape than in the buff’
>look around at her head, poking through the doorway
>’You aren’t even nude.’
>I just wanted to ask, a small favor,’
>”yeah?”
>’Can you have me in bed with you? My gun-form’ she added
>’I don’t like the cold, and I don’t want to, uh’
>awkward silence
>Field looked a little embarrassed
>you know what, fuck it
>”Sure, I can do that”
>I finish getting ready for bed as Field comes back with her gun-form
>a weird saying those terms, “gun-form” and “person-form”
>Field comes back and hands me herself, basically 
>’Thanks User’ she said as her “person-form dissipated 
>tuck rifle into bed
>I already knew from experience as an autistic kommando that just getting into bed with a rifle messes up the blankets and sheets and results in the gun getting knocked against things
>swear I hear a giggle
>feel embarrassed but then a little miffed; I want to call her out but decide to let it go
>get into bed and face away from Field
>”Good night, Field”
>’Good night, User. Thank you for letting me sleep here’
>”mhm”
>as I drift off, I swear I feel arms around me