Wardancer 7 - NNWM 2k17
Nov. 26th, 2017 08:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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“Rise and shine, everyone. Coffee’s on and we don’t want to be late heading out or this redneck junk heap.” I heard a voice call from the other side of my bedroom door. I looked outside. It couldn’t have been barely past dawn, me, barely rested, wondering what the emergency is now. Did the sheriff and his horrible band escape? Were people demanding autographs? Or did they fear I’d stick around a bit too long getting acquainted with the haystacks and burlapping of women on them thereof? I adjusted my cap and got my outfit adjusted. I hadn’t changed back into my kilt yet. I looked like someone done threw me in a thresher, but at least it was a sexy one.
“Oh. It’s you.” I said, bemused, as I opened the door to see Lassiter trying to get us all up for breakfast. “What’s the rush, man? A hero needs her hero sleep.”
“Tell that asshole I need five more hours, would you, sis?” Nobu grumbled from a nearby bed.
“Believe me, I don’t think he’s the type that’d listen. Look, we’ll be down asap. Let me get the General here up and ready, under threat of I get to wear her hat today if she doesn’t.”
“You wouldn’t dare! Fine, I’ll get up.”
“Good, I knew you two would agree. Everyone else is already down and eating. We’ll need to hit the supply stores and pick up ammo and whatever it is you weirdos need so we can get going. If we’re stuck like this, I want this done over and quick so we can go home.” With that, Lassiter went back downstairs.
Nobu and I reluctantly got into our normal outfits and checked our hair and teeth. Acceptable enough, given what had transpired in that inn room the night before. We made our way down and Miri handed us each what seemed like half a pot of coffee, immediately making more as Lina was eating copious amounts of breakfast meats, getting into slapfights with Shawn and Gus each time she tried to take some food from them.
“I never seen someone eat as much junk as we do, Shawn. Where do you think she’s putting it all?” Gus asked.
“Well, I could tell you where it’s NOT going.” Shawn laughed.
“I’m going to kill everyone in this party when we’re through with this and I get paid.” Lina threatened.
“Shawn, where did you mean? Hmm? Where are you looking?” Jules asked in a very damning manner.
“Haha, shit, she’s on top of his antics as I am yours.” Miri leered at me with a toothy smile.
I tried to change the subject for a bit. “So. Shawn. Kat. How’s the whole actually brother and sister thing working out?”
“Oh, we’re already over it. I agree not to touch the hot cop lady, and he’s agreed to maybe stop calling me Red Sonja. Maybe. We’ve already had enough happen on this quest that we figured this was probably the least ridiculous thing to happen yet, so we may as well roll with it. We’re pretty close to Demon Lord territory anyways, right? So soon this will all be done and I can focus on bedding the princess.” Kat responded.
“That’s awfully mature of you two.” I glared at Jules. “Seriously, what did you threaten her with? She hasn’t been this well spoken or behaved since she joined our party on, what, day two?”
“Given what she bragged about last night, I got enough notes to indict her on possibly every sex crime in existence, and a few new ones she invented herself just by existing, and I told her if she didn’t cooperate and save this place and find us a way out then once we got back I’d see to it they all stuck.” Jules responded, sounding rather proud of herself. “Oh, and I’d put her in solitary confinement. No prison harems for her. That put the nail in the coffin.”
“I’m still free to hit on anyone else, right?” Kat mumbled.
“So long as you understand what no means.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kat sat next to me instead and slumped her head on my shoulder. “This sucks. And not in the way I’d like.”
“I’m sure you’ll live. Now then, how’s about we pack up and get out of here? I’m starting to smell like a bad stretch of farmland and I’m not sure this place has proper plumbing. Or sanitary water.” I got up and stretched, making sure every single person we’d collected to this point was up and packing, and told them to meet us at Jaclyn’s in fifteen minutes. From there, we would stock up and plan our route out of here.
Jaclyn was all too glad to see us and all too sad to see us go, but I let her know I’d see her again, in a way, real soon and that we’d always remember how kindly she treated us brightligters in a town full of stiff hats and sharkin’ matches. Goodbye, Ulrikh. Goodbye, Bucket of Blood. We’ll always have Madge’s. And if we didn’t get out of here soon, I was afraid all I’d be able to say is Boontling for the rest of the trip and nobody else would be able to understand half of what I said. I mean, not that I think they’d want to after I passed around the plain English version of what was actually said in that song. Let’s just say it was about a lesbian Boontling highwayman stealing your girlfriend and taking her to a brothel to party, only way more not safe for work than that.
But that’s just the Wardancer’s style. Maybe they shouldn’t have summoned me if they didn’t want my world saving tour CD to have an explicit content warning on every damn song we did.
We rolled out our map and looked around. We’d traversed a good majority of Melodia already, and there was one last town standing between us and the Demon Lord Hjalmar’s lands. Something rather ominous sounding called Greater Ro’athe. It was located after some craggy mountains and in a wide, foresty expanse. After that, all the land on the map looked dead and barren and almost not traversable. That was definitely end game territory, and thick forests and stony mountains are usually signs of high end, frequent encounters, so something told us something particular dangerous was lurking for us beyond in Ro’athe.
“Yeah, Kat’s right for once. Only one major town exists now between us and Hjalmar’s territory. Whatever is in here, it doesn’t look very user friendly. My Wardancer senses are telling me that whatever’s here will be good prep for us to perform our final, world saving concert. I just hope you all are ready. Once we get there and finish our business, I’ll give everyone an out if they want to go all the way back to Adoch, so you have until our next concert’s done to ruminate on it.” I said, sounding somewhat somber.
“Why’s everything around here sound like it’s from some kind of Lord of the Rings knockoff?” Lassiter complained.
“You say that about everything involving fiction that’s not even remotely made in America or set here, Carlton.” Jules responded.
“Not always; if it sounds like some crap-ass technology, I say it’s a Star Trek knockoff.”
“I’m surprised you even know what those are, Lassie.” Shawn tossed in his two cents.
“Can it Spencer.”
“Okay guys, settle down before I get out the ye olde pepper spray. Which is probably just a pepper shaker, but I digress.” I rolled up our map and put it in my pack, paying Jaclyn for everything she’d given us.
“You kids be safe out there in Ro’athe. I hear things aren’t going so well over there.” Jaclyn warned us.
“Things don’t go well for us much anywhere we go. I mean, we just got accused of murder, what’s next, revolution?” I rolled my eyes.
I shouldn’t have said that.
We said our farewells to the kind folk of Ulrikh, taking a moment to stop by the jail cells to laugh at the false sheriff one more time, letting him know very damn good and well that if I was sticking around even a couple hours longer, I’d make my song come true about his wife, but he would be spared. For now. Maybe on my comeback tour, if I had one, I could do that just to make him squirm a bit more. Small price to pay for accusing me of double murder. He messed with the wrong modocker, that’s for damn certain. The dusty trail, for once, was actually dusty as we made our way northeast of Ulrikh and towards the mountain path that separated it and Greater Ro’athe.
This one was one of the longer trails we had traversed, and it took us nearly a week to get through the crags and cliffs that surrounded us, having to hunt the strangest and angriest animals to survive and taking turns guarding each other while one bathed to make sure nobody peeked, but with how almost incestual the group had become, that was a rough task. I wound up doing most of it since, well, a hero at least will behave and there’s no way we could be sure Katsuragi hadn’t learned what ‘no’ is yet, despite her repeatedly asking Jules about legal technicalities in California, where she’d be tried if she dared slipped up on any of this. By the end, at least, Kat was somewhat of an expert in my home state’s laws, albeit for the wrong reasons. Especially in regards to the area of prostitution and pimping, since a Queen of the Hooters Harem would technically fall under those sorts of laws. The more you know, and all that.
Every night around our campfire I’d sing bawdy tunes and play my pipes while everyone danced merry off whatever substances they managed to smuggle in their packs, passing out in circles close to the fire, leaving me to ponder just what I would do at this journey’s end now that we were nearing the next to final destination. It was bittersweet; on one hand, I missed home, but on the other hand, I’d grown attached to the bizarre amalgamation of characters that had become my best friends on this quest. I wouldn’t say no to a few more instances of world saving in my life before I hit the road back home, if one existed.
If nothing else, I learned I had a talent for creating some of the world’s greatest and most hilarious music, even if it was all off a CD your mom would confiscate.
The next day dawned and we saw the end of the mountain path and into the woods outside of Greater Ro’athe. The air was oddly black, although it was day, and things smelled of metal and smoke. Maybe Jaclyn was right. Whatever was going on here was bad. Or maybe it was just Los Angeles on a good day, a joke by me, a genuine Californian. I told everyone to proceed with caution and had my attack crew, now consisting of Kat, Miri, and my two new cop buddies, take point, armed (or legged in Kat’s case) as the rest of us prodded slowly behind, me holding my biwa like an oar just in case.
Eventually we came across the city gates and we welcomed into a rather torn up looking town, that, I could imagine, when it wasn’t destroyed, looked nice and welcoming. Remnants of Germanic architecture lined the ground, and the roar of engines and cannons shot off in the distance. There were, for once, no guards here to really annoy us with that trite NPC line I’d started hearing in my sleep at this point.
There was, however, a figure in the shadows that halted us before we went any further into the city. I felt them grab me, specifically, and put a hand around my mouth, telling the rest of my group to shh and follow her.
“Greater Ro’athe is massively dangerous territory right now. If you enter the city gates, the Nazis are going to find you, and you will be sent to the camps, like most of the rest of town has. If you follow me, I can take you to a safe haven under the city where a resistance has been working, made up of helpful wanderers and escaped townsfolk. And, well, we could use a hero like you, Wardancer.” The voice was stern, but oddly polite, and somewhat comforting, like I’d known this woman from somewhere before. I tried to get a look at her, but the smoke was too thick and the trees blocking my view even worse. “Or should I say, a hero like you, my trusted master and wielder?”
I froze in shock, the light beaming in just enough for me to get a glimpse of a tan face, battle scarred, flowing black hair, and a headband around her forehead reading, in no uncertain kanji, a phrase that translated to “Assured Victory.” If it weren’t for the fact that everything else that had happened had, I wouldn’t believe I was being dragged off by whom I knew this woman to be.
I wrestled my mouth free just long enough to talk to my party. “Do as she says. Follow her now. I’ll explain when we get to her hideout. But...I know her. Very well.”
The woman smiled softly at me. “I knew you’d understand, master. And any friends of my wielder are friends of mine. Now, we mustn’t dally any longer. The Nazis grow stronger by the moment and we need you to take down their leader; they’ll only listen to someone who can sing, and, well, none of us really can.”
“I guess even in a world like this, Nazis are confined to playing by the game’s restrictions.” Miri sighed.
We all dutifully followed this woman to the underground bunker, where there sat a motley crew of people around a wartable, with the room full of boxes of weapons, ammo, food, crucial supplies to fund a resistance. It was much more light in here, and I could finally see this woman in her full figure.
Besides the headband and tan skin covered in marks resembling healed cuts, her body was covered in the same marks, and she had on a hakama, geta, and a fur vest with a chest wrap under it. Her body was toned and she had on long black gloves. On her hip was a long, simply adorned, black katana.
“It’s good to finally meet you like this, master and wielder.” The woman said as she knelt to me and kissed my hand. “To everyone else, I am Hoshigiri. Back home, I am Atma’s trusted sword. One of her most prized possessions and allies. She polishes me, treats me like a lover, even puts me to bed next to her just in case. Here, I am given form in the way she sees me. If she cannot wield me here, at least I can do so myself and be of service to master.”
“T-That’s your sword?” Lassiter choked. “So, what’s next, you’re gonna say you’re the distant cousin of my own cavalry sword or something?”
“Actually, yes. He says hi and sorry he couldn’t make it.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. But I’m lucky I got here when I did. The town was recently accosted by someone else Atma knows well from home, but not in a pleasant way. You see, we’ve been taken over by one of the day’s most influential modern Nazis, a black metal singer by the name of Varg. He’s somehow made it here too and has been working with the Demon Lord to try to make it out west to stop you. Thankfully, you got here first and can make a stand here now.” Hoshigiri explained.
“So, wait, you want us to go up against fully armed Nazis? With like, tanks and such? Because that’s definitely what I’m hearing outside.” Nobu sighed. “As great a general as I am, I’m not sure what kind of advantage I could come up with for us so quickly.”
“There will be no need for that.” Said one of the voices at the table. “Lucky for you, you have all of us, who have been mapping out the city and its ruins daily, and have managed to procure two tanks on top of it. I believe if we send Atma out to distract Varg in a sing-off, the rest of us could blow his tanks to the shit scrap they are and then hand to hand accost any of them left. We just need Atma to be able to go front and center, and she’ll need a plan and a disguise by tonight.”
I turned and looked up at the man speaking. “Hedge? You made it here too? And why am I not surprised you’re fighting the Nazis here too?”
“I was just sort of wandering around and ran into this, ahem, problem and decided to do one of the things I know how to do best. So what’s say it, pal, we all know of all people, you got the guts to march through the front lines, mic and guitar in hand, dressed like you’re Stalingrad itself and you will not fall to him.”
“Like I got a choice. And even if I did, the best option is always to punch all nazis.”
“You say tanks? Show me what you got.” Miri piped in.
Parked outside and hidden under impressive camouflage was a souped-up M4 and a rather nicely cleaned up Soviert T34-85. Miri whistled. These would do nicely.
“So what’s the enemy got?” Miri continued.
“Not much. A couple of Tiger I tanks they’ve overly decorated to compensate for the fact they know if we had these, we’d blow them to Hell and back in an instant.” Hoshigiri mused. “You know the type. Honestly, the only reason they’ve been able to do so much damage so quickly is because the townsfolk are a peaceful one; they weren’t prepared for this, so the coup was quick. Their tactics are sloppy and their targets random.”
“So let me draw us up a battle plan and assign us some tank crews and band members.” Nobunaga stepped in. “If anyone can outmaneuver these assholes in their sleep, it’ll be us, but mostly me.”
“So I guess it’s up to me to play the part of Lyudmila Pavlichenko, only armed with my voice instead of a sniper rifle. I can guarantee as many dead Nazis by the end of this, though.” I laughed.
We immediately suited me up in an old Soviet era military uniform, complete with kickass cap, and a sash around my chest with my own clan’s emblem on it, my hat buckled with the sign of the three arrows, one of the international signs of Nazi stompers everywhere. I wrangled Hoshigiri and Hedge, taking them as they were, as their own styles made for pretty kickass resistance looks on their own. We immediately got to work penning me a resistance song as Nobunaga drew up combat plans for the rest of the team.
The M4 would be manned by, well, the men, and was nicknamed the Skofnung, after a legendary viking sword said to be imbued with the spirit of twelve berserker bodyguards. The women would be riding the Soviet tank, as was something actually done due to their small side, named the Gram, the blade that slew Fafnir. Why? Because Nazis think they’re badass vikings but get none of it right, so I doubt they can guess the names of cooler, better swords.
By the time our crews were assembled, I had been done writing in a fit of inspiration and decided we would march to what used to be the concert hall’s remains, giving me a bullhorn as we drove up, my presence absolutely commanding of anyone and everyone’s attention in Greater Ro’athe.
“Excuse me, but would the Nazi fuckheads making a mess of this place please come to the concert hall as soon as you can? Your maker’s arrived.” I shouted, my heart racing but knowing if I could pull this off, then the Demon Lord ought to be a breeze. “I am Atme the Wardancer, and you don’t know shit about wrecking a town, because we’re about to wreck your asses. Would the shithead specifically known as Varg like to try to best me in a music battle while my crew makes mincemeat of whatever playtoys you got out there or do I have to kick your ass and drag you out here myself to, well, face the fucking music?”
That did it. We heard engines rumbling towards us, and as far as they could tell, all they could see was me and my two other band members on stage, with instruments, and my microphone. Our tanks lay hidden on either side, ready to flank them in impressive ambush. If I can’t wield an actual sword myself here, I’ll make everything else here into my sword. Hoshigiri, my friends, my voice, the tanks, all now took place of a physical blade. Up drove Varg and his crew, looking as horribly white as usual, dressed like they came out of the character sheets of his own shitty tabletop game. What an ego this man had, and I was all too glad to deflate it.
Even I was a bit dumbfounded tho by just how impressively shitty his two Tiger I tanks looked. You think they just drove straight on through a confederate convention and kept whatever stuck on. Nazis really had no sense of aesthetic anymore, now did they.
“I know you’re as bound to this world’s rules as I am and you must abide any musical challenge. So, let’s say you and your band go first and then I’ll go and if we can’t decide a winner, we let our tanks battle it out?” I grinned.
“Tanks? What tanks? You’re all filthy and impure and unworthy! All I see are three pieces of trash needing to be incinerated by my two boys here, Dainsleif and Tyrfing.” Varg laughed.
“You do realize those are shitty, evil swords, right? Good job revealing you Nazis know goddamn nothing about the vikings you try to emulate. And too bad I’m one myself. You know they traded blood with all sorts, right? Mine were all too happy to mingle with the Mongolians.” I laughed back. “Besides, I’m a dual wielder myself. I’m more particular to...”
This was it, like I was going to let Varg go first. This time, The Wardancer goes on, as the one and only act, singing her song as her crew blew them all to hell. Fascist scum don’t get a fair turn so long as I’m the hero Melodia prophecised would appear before them. The next words were the magic words and as I shouted them, my tanks appeared and began to rain hellfire down on Varg and his shitty crew.
“...Gram and Skofnung. Presenting, the slayer of Fafnir and the sword of a dozen berserker bodyguards themselves! Get ‘em!”
I cackled as my cavalry appeared and got the first salvo in. With that, I dropped my megaphone and traded it in for my microphone, ready to sing the resistance ballad to define our generation.
“Greetings, Varg. You may have gotten the jump on Ro’athe here, but I am Atma the Wardancer. I’m the hero of this story, and it shall go as I writ. Or sing, as it were. This here is my band, the Comrades In Arms, and I have a song for you.”
Hoshigiri and Hedge blew the speakers on and went to their places, starting the rhythm up as I pulled out an electric guitar and cackled one last time.
“I like to call it: The Golden Rule.”
As the Nazis desperately tried to fight back, explosions all around us, I began to sing, making my way through the center of it all to Varg himself, step by step, slowly, a touch of murder in my eyes. This was the final thing he heard before he and his army were wiped off the face of Melodia for good:
“Nazi punks driving tanks up my street
Settling near me, thinking them human elite
Well I tell you what, you ain’t moving in
Because for humanity’s best, where the fuck is your chin?
Whether you be alt-white or alt-right
Or think yourself a crusader for men’s rights
The only thing to remember with Nazis is The Golden Rule
Do unto others as they’d do unto you
(But make sure you do it first)
Pacifism gets you nowhere, in the end we’d all lose
They’ll have you saying Heil Hitler before the Hakenkreuz
And at the end of the day they just throw you away
If you don’t punch first, it’s with our lives you’ll pay
So go ahead and stomp on ‘em, choke ‘em, put them in the dirt
We’ll eradicate every single last one of you cowardly brown shirts
I’ve been hunting your kind down and making you run away
Since I was but sixteen, I’ve made sure you don’t see the light of day
So you try again and again and you just cannot win
History will vindicate the underground again and again
Let fire spread and take your ashes out into the wind
You’re all washed up, nobodies, losers, the all-time has beens
You’re all show and all talk, I can see it in your eyes
As you go around, regurgitating your precious Furher’s lies
Well it ends here and it ends now and it ends tonight
Because we’re the underground and we always bring the fight
You’re stuck in your worst nightmare, we’re in Castle Wolfenstein
I’ll go BJ Blackowiz on you and make all your scalps now mine
Because if he were real of me I know he’d be proud
Because I fucking hate Nazi scum like you and I’ll sing it out loud
Because….
Whether you be alt-white or alt-right
Or think yourself a crusader for men’s rights
The only thing to remember with Nazis is The Golden Rule
Do unto others as they’d do unto you
(But make sure you do it first)
The axe of judgment falls on you not me
Tonight, on Nazi corpses, I’ll dance in victory
So say whatever invocation to Odin now, say your prayers
Because Valhalla’s for me, of our feast you get no share
If you try to rise again, I have only one warning for you fools
Like you’d do unto us, I’d first do unto you
That’s the beauty of The Golden Rule
Maybe next time you’ll think your shit actions through
(But we’ll still do it first)
And even then whatever army you raise
I’ll turn ploughs to swords for countless days
For every one of us you take, a thousand shall rise again
The sun now sets on the Nazi’s time, it is now your end
Because….
Whether you be alt-white or alt-right
Or think yourself a crusader for men’s rights
The only thing to remember with Nazis is The Golden Rule
Do unto others as they’d do unto you
(But make sure you do it first)
Let The Golden Rule always be the Nazi’s fatal curse!”
Fuck pyrotechnics, this time we finished our concert by blowing Varg’s tanks to smithereens rather effortlessly, my crew popping out of their own tanks and chasing down any stragglers, leaving just Varg and I left. I laughed. It’s all I could do.
Well, except the part where I took my microphone and wrapped it around his neck, choking the last of his filthy life out of him. Get the fuck out of my Melodia, you piece of garbage. Now my stat sheet said I could never use a conventional melee weapon, yes, but music was my weapon, and I was going to interpret it literally just once.
I walked back to the stage, tired, picking up the megaphone and then commanding Nobu to cut the camp gates down with her guitar, letting the townsfolk go.
“You’re all free to go, people of Ro’athe. They won’t be bothering you any longer.” I then sighed and slumped onto the stage, exhausted. The adrenaline was finally leaving me but it was totally worth it. Every one of us got to scalp a genuine Nazi that day, free a bunch of people, and watch me throw the gauntlet down first for once.
Because there is no room for that kind of shit in any world where I dwell. Where the Wardancer is free to sing and dance, so should everyone be. All we asked for in return was a day or two to rest up and clean up, maybe help them get some sort of structure going again, because we were going to have to be at our absolute top shape to take on the Demon Lord. And this way, if Hjalmar sent out anything else this way, we’d be able to block them.
“Can I just say that was the most impressive use of a microphone I’ve ever seen?” Shawn exclaimed.
“I’m just glad we somehow were able to maneuver that thing with Lassie giving the commands.” Gus added.
“Can it you two, we did very good today. At least while I’m here, I can keep some streets clean, even if it’s not home.” Lassiter snipped.
“You all did just fine, for a bunch of motley nitwits.” Nobunaga laughed. “I knew I’d eventually get you all conscripted, and what better way to unite people than against Nazis?”
The lot of us slept good that night, albeit on a bunch of cots, but it was probably the most comfortable cot I’d ever slept on. We had to spend some of the night explaining to a few of the Not From Earth people why these people were so godawful and we had to do what we had to do, but in they all agreed we did the right thing, if only because it was absolutely badass.
But Hjalmar’s realm was looming close over us, as was the end of our adventure. If there’s anything more dangerous than fascists, it’s otherworldly hellbeasts bent on ruining music and peace forever. And you know the Wardancer wasn’t about to do that.
Because I’ll just do unto him what he’d do unto you.
But do it first, of course.
“Rise and shine, everyone. Coffee’s on and we don’t want to be late heading out or this redneck junk heap.” I heard a voice call from the other side of my bedroom door. I looked outside. It couldn’t have been barely past dawn, me, barely rested, wondering what the emergency is now. Did the sheriff and his horrible band escape? Were people demanding autographs? Or did they fear I’d stick around a bit too long getting acquainted with the haystacks and burlapping of women on them thereof? I adjusted my cap and got my outfit adjusted. I hadn’t changed back into my kilt yet. I looked like someone done threw me in a thresher, but at least it was a sexy one.
“Oh. It’s you.” I said, bemused, as I opened the door to see Lassiter trying to get us all up for breakfast. “What’s the rush, man? A hero needs her hero sleep.”
“Tell that asshole I need five more hours, would you, sis?” Nobu grumbled from a nearby bed.
“Believe me, I don’t think he’s the type that’d listen. Look, we’ll be down asap. Let me get the General here up and ready, under threat of I get to wear her hat today if she doesn’t.”
“You wouldn’t dare! Fine, I’ll get up.”
“Good, I knew you two would agree. Everyone else is already down and eating. We’ll need to hit the supply stores and pick up ammo and whatever it is you weirdos need so we can get going. If we’re stuck like this, I want this done over and quick so we can go home.” With that, Lassiter went back downstairs.
Nobu and I reluctantly got into our normal outfits and checked our hair and teeth. Acceptable enough, given what had transpired in that inn room the night before. We made our way down and Miri handed us each what seemed like half a pot of coffee, immediately making more as Lina was eating copious amounts of breakfast meats, getting into slapfights with Shawn and Gus each time she tried to take some food from them.
“I never seen someone eat as much junk as we do, Shawn. Where do you think she’s putting it all?” Gus asked.
“Well, I could tell you where it’s NOT going.” Shawn laughed.
“I’m going to kill everyone in this party when we’re through with this and I get paid.” Lina threatened.
“Shawn, where did you mean? Hmm? Where are you looking?” Jules asked in a very damning manner.
“Haha, shit, she’s on top of his antics as I am yours.” Miri leered at me with a toothy smile.
I tried to change the subject for a bit. “So. Shawn. Kat. How’s the whole actually brother and sister thing working out?”
“Oh, we’re already over it. I agree not to touch the hot cop lady, and he’s agreed to maybe stop calling me Red Sonja. Maybe. We’ve already had enough happen on this quest that we figured this was probably the least ridiculous thing to happen yet, so we may as well roll with it. We’re pretty close to Demon Lord territory anyways, right? So soon this will all be done and I can focus on bedding the princess.” Kat responded.
“That’s awfully mature of you two.” I glared at Jules. “Seriously, what did you threaten her with? She hasn’t been this well spoken or behaved since she joined our party on, what, day two?”
“Given what she bragged about last night, I got enough notes to indict her on possibly every sex crime in existence, and a few new ones she invented herself just by existing, and I told her if she didn’t cooperate and save this place and find us a way out then once we got back I’d see to it they all stuck.” Jules responded, sounding rather proud of herself. “Oh, and I’d put her in solitary confinement. No prison harems for her. That put the nail in the coffin.”
“I’m still free to hit on anyone else, right?” Kat mumbled.
“So long as you understand what no means.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kat sat next to me instead and slumped her head on my shoulder. “This sucks. And not in the way I’d like.”
“I’m sure you’ll live. Now then, how’s about we pack up and get out of here? I’m starting to smell like a bad stretch of farmland and I’m not sure this place has proper plumbing. Or sanitary water.” I got up and stretched, making sure every single person we’d collected to this point was up and packing, and told them to meet us at Jaclyn’s in fifteen minutes. From there, we would stock up and plan our route out of here.
Jaclyn was all too glad to see us and all too sad to see us go, but I let her know I’d see her again, in a way, real soon and that we’d always remember how kindly she treated us brightligters in a town full of stiff hats and sharkin’ matches. Goodbye, Ulrikh. Goodbye, Bucket of Blood. We’ll always have Madge’s. And if we didn’t get out of here soon, I was afraid all I’d be able to say is Boontling for the rest of the trip and nobody else would be able to understand half of what I said. I mean, not that I think they’d want to after I passed around the plain English version of what was actually said in that song. Let’s just say it was about a lesbian Boontling highwayman stealing your girlfriend and taking her to a brothel to party, only way more not safe for work than that.
But that’s just the Wardancer’s style. Maybe they shouldn’t have summoned me if they didn’t want my world saving tour CD to have an explicit content warning on every damn song we did.
We rolled out our map and looked around. We’d traversed a good majority of Melodia already, and there was one last town standing between us and the Demon Lord Hjalmar’s lands. Something rather ominous sounding called Greater Ro’athe. It was located after some craggy mountains and in a wide, foresty expanse. After that, all the land on the map looked dead and barren and almost not traversable. That was definitely end game territory, and thick forests and stony mountains are usually signs of high end, frequent encounters, so something told us something particular dangerous was lurking for us beyond in Ro’athe.
“Yeah, Kat’s right for once. Only one major town exists now between us and Hjalmar’s territory. Whatever is in here, it doesn’t look very user friendly. My Wardancer senses are telling me that whatever’s here will be good prep for us to perform our final, world saving concert. I just hope you all are ready. Once we get there and finish our business, I’ll give everyone an out if they want to go all the way back to Adoch, so you have until our next concert’s done to ruminate on it.” I said, sounding somewhat somber.
“Why’s everything around here sound like it’s from some kind of Lord of the Rings knockoff?” Lassiter complained.
“You say that about everything involving fiction that’s not even remotely made in America or set here, Carlton.” Jules responded.
“Not always; if it sounds like some crap-ass technology, I say it’s a Star Trek knockoff.”
“I’m surprised you even know what those are, Lassie.” Shawn tossed in his two cents.
“Can it Spencer.”
“Okay guys, settle down before I get out the ye olde pepper spray. Which is probably just a pepper shaker, but I digress.” I rolled up our map and put it in my pack, paying Jaclyn for everything she’d given us.
“You kids be safe out there in Ro’athe. I hear things aren’t going so well over there.” Jaclyn warned us.
“Things don’t go well for us much anywhere we go. I mean, we just got accused of murder, what’s next, revolution?” I rolled my eyes.
I shouldn’t have said that.
We said our farewells to the kind folk of Ulrikh, taking a moment to stop by the jail cells to laugh at the false sheriff one more time, letting him know very damn good and well that if I was sticking around even a couple hours longer, I’d make my song come true about his wife, but he would be spared. For now. Maybe on my comeback tour, if I had one, I could do that just to make him squirm a bit more. Small price to pay for accusing me of double murder. He messed with the wrong modocker, that’s for damn certain. The dusty trail, for once, was actually dusty as we made our way northeast of Ulrikh and towards the mountain path that separated it and Greater Ro’athe.
This one was one of the longer trails we had traversed, and it took us nearly a week to get through the crags and cliffs that surrounded us, having to hunt the strangest and angriest animals to survive and taking turns guarding each other while one bathed to make sure nobody peeked, but with how almost incestual the group had become, that was a rough task. I wound up doing most of it since, well, a hero at least will behave and there’s no way we could be sure Katsuragi hadn’t learned what ‘no’ is yet, despite her repeatedly asking Jules about legal technicalities in California, where she’d be tried if she dared slipped up on any of this. By the end, at least, Kat was somewhat of an expert in my home state’s laws, albeit for the wrong reasons. Especially in regards to the area of prostitution and pimping, since a Queen of the Hooters Harem would technically fall under those sorts of laws. The more you know, and all that.
Every night around our campfire I’d sing bawdy tunes and play my pipes while everyone danced merry off whatever substances they managed to smuggle in their packs, passing out in circles close to the fire, leaving me to ponder just what I would do at this journey’s end now that we were nearing the next to final destination. It was bittersweet; on one hand, I missed home, but on the other hand, I’d grown attached to the bizarre amalgamation of characters that had become my best friends on this quest. I wouldn’t say no to a few more instances of world saving in my life before I hit the road back home, if one existed.
If nothing else, I learned I had a talent for creating some of the world’s greatest and most hilarious music, even if it was all off a CD your mom would confiscate.
The next day dawned and we saw the end of the mountain path and into the woods outside of Greater Ro’athe. The air was oddly black, although it was day, and things smelled of metal and smoke. Maybe Jaclyn was right. Whatever was going on here was bad. Or maybe it was just Los Angeles on a good day, a joke by me, a genuine Californian. I told everyone to proceed with caution and had my attack crew, now consisting of Kat, Miri, and my two new cop buddies, take point, armed (or legged in Kat’s case) as the rest of us prodded slowly behind, me holding my biwa like an oar just in case.
Eventually we came across the city gates and we welcomed into a rather torn up looking town, that, I could imagine, when it wasn’t destroyed, looked nice and welcoming. Remnants of Germanic architecture lined the ground, and the roar of engines and cannons shot off in the distance. There were, for once, no guards here to really annoy us with that trite NPC line I’d started hearing in my sleep at this point.
There was, however, a figure in the shadows that halted us before we went any further into the city. I felt them grab me, specifically, and put a hand around my mouth, telling the rest of my group to shh and follow her.
“Greater Ro’athe is massively dangerous territory right now. If you enter the city gates, the Nazis are going to find you, and you will be sent to the camps, like most of the rest of town has. If you follow me, I can take you to a safe haven under the city where a resistance has been working, made up of helpful wanderers and escaped townsfolk. And, well, we could use a hero like you, Wardancer.” The voice was stern, but oddly polite, and somewhat comforting, like I’d known this woman from somewhere before. I tried to get a look at her, but the smoke was too thick and the trees blocking my view even worse. “Or should I say, a hero like you, my trusted master and wielder?”
I froze in shock, the light beaming in just enough for me to get a glimpse of a tan face, battle scarred, flowing black hair, and a headband around her forehead reading, in no uncertain kanji, a phrase that translated to “Assured Victory.” If it weren’t for the fact that everything else that had happened had, I wouldn’t believe I was being dragged off by whom I knew this woman to be.
I wrestled my mouth free just long enough to talk to my party. “Do as she says. Follow her now. I’ll explain when we get to her hideout. But...I know her. Very well.”
The woman smiled softly at me. “I knew you’d understand, master. And any friends of my wielder are friends of mine. Now, we mustn’t dally any longer. The Nazis grow stronger by the moment and we need you to take down their leader; they’ll only listen to someone who can sing, and, well, none of us really can.”
“I guess even in a world like this, Nazis are confined to playing by the game’s restrictions.” Miri sighed.
We all dutifully followed this woman to the underground bunker, where there sat a motley crew of people around a wartable, with the room full of boxes of weapons, ammo, food, crucial supplies to fund a resistance. It was much more light in here, and I could finally see this woman in her full figure.
Besides the headband and tan skin covered in marks resembling healed cuts, her body was covered in the same marks, and she had on a hakama, geta, and a fur vest with a chest wrap under it. Her body was toned and she had on long black gloves. On her hip was a long, simply adorned, black katana.
“It’s good to finally meet you like this, master and wielder.” The woman said as she knelt to me and kissed my hand. “To everyone else, I am Hoshigiri. Back home, I am Atma’s trusted sword. One of her most prized possessions and allies. She polishes me, treats me like a lover, even puts me to bed next to her just in case. Here, I am given form in the way she sees me. If she cannot wield me here, at least I can do so myself and be of service to master.”
“T-That’s your sword?” Lassiter choked. “So, what’s next, you’re gonna say you’re the distant cousin of my own cavalry sword or something?”
“Actually, yes. He says hi and sorry he couldn’t make it.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. But I’m lucky I got here when I did. The town was recently accosted by someone else Atma knows well from home, but not in a pleasant way. You see, we’ve been taken over by one of the day’s most influential modern Nazis, a black metal singer by the name of Varg. He’s somehow made it here too and has been working with the Demon Lord to try to make it out west to stop you. Thankfully, you got here first and can make a stand here now.” Hoshigiri explained.
“So, wait, you want us to go up against fully armed Nazis? With like, tanks and such? Because that’s definitely what I’m hearing outside.” Nobu sighed. “As great a general as I am, I’m not sure what kind of advantage I could come up with for us so quickly.”
“There will be no need for that.” Said one of the voices at the table. “Lucky for you, you have all of us, who have been mapping out the city and its ruins daily, and have managed to procure two tanks on top of it. I believe if we send Atma out to distract Varg in a sing-off, the rest of us could blow his tanks to the shit scrap they are and then hand to hand accost any of them left. We just need Atma to be able to go front and center, and she’ll need a plan and a disguise by tonight.”
I turned and looked up at the man speaking. “Hedge? You made it here too? And why am I not surprised you’re fighting the Nazis here too?”
“I was just sort of wandering around and ran into this, ahem, problem and decided to do one of the things I know how to do best. So what’s say it, pal, we all know of all people, you got the guts to march through the front lines, mic and guitar in hand, dressed like you’re Stalingrad itself and you will not fall to him.”
“Like I got a choice. And even if I did, the best option is always to punch all nazis.”
“You say tanks? Show me what you got.” Miri piped in.
Parked outside and hidden under impressive camouflage was a souped-up M4 and a rather nicely cleaned up Soviert T34-85. Miri whistled. These would do nicely.
“So what’s the enemy got?” Miri continued.
“Not much. A couple of Tiger I tanks they’ve overly decorated to compensate for the fact they know if we had these, we’d blow them to Hell and back in an instant.” Hoshigiri mused. “You know the type. Honestly, the only reason they’ve been able to do so much damage so quickly is because the townsfolk are a peaceful one; they weren’t prepared for this, so the coup was quick. Their tactics are sloppy and their targets random.”
“So let me draw us up a battle plan and assign us some tank crews and band members.” Nobunaga stepped in. “If anyone can outmaneuver these assholes in their sleep, it’ll be us, but mostly me.”
“So I guess it’s up to me to play the part of Lyudmila Pavlichenko, only armed with my voice instead of a sniper rifle. I can guarantee as many dead Nazis by the end of this, though.” I laughed.
We immediately suited me up in an old Soviet era military uniform, complete with kickass cap, and a sash around my chest with my own clan’s emblem on it, my hat buckled with the sign of the three arrows, one of the international signs of Nazi stompers everywhere. I wrangled Hoshigiri and Hedge, taking them as they were, as their own styles made for pretty kickass resistance looks on their own. We immediately got to work penning me a resistance song as Nobunaga drew up combat plans for the rest of the team.
The M4 would be manned by, well, the men, and was nicknamed the Skofnung, after a legendary viking sword said to be imbued with the spirit of twelve berserker bodyguards. The women would be riding the Soviet tank, as was something actually done due to their small side, named the Gram, the blade that slew Fafnir. Why? Because Nazis think they’re badass vikings but get none of it right, so I doubt they can guess the names of cooler, better swords.
By the time our crews were assembled, I had been done writing in a fit of inspiration and decided we would march to what used to be the concert hall’s remains, giving me a bullhorn as we drove up, my presence absolutely commanding of anyone and everyone’s attention in Greater Ro’athe.
“Excuse me, but would the Nazi fuckheads making a mess of this place please come to the concert hall as soon as you can? Your maker’s arrived.” I shouted, my heart racing but knowing if I could pull this off, then the Demon Lord ought to be a breeze. “I am Atme the Wardancer, and you don’t know shit about wrecking a town, because we’re about to wreck your asses. Would the shithead specifically known as Varg like to try to best me in a music battle while my crew makes mincemeat of whatever playtoys you got out there or do I have to kick your ass and drag you out here myself to, well, face the fucking music?”
That did it. We heard engines rumbling towards us, and as far as they could tell, all they could see was me and my two other band members on stage, with instruments, and my microphone. Our tanks lay hidden on either side, ready to flank them in impressive ambush. If I can’t wield an actual sword myself here, I’ll make everything else here into my sword. Hoshigiri, my friends, my voice, the tanks, all now took place of a physical blade. Up drove Varg and his crew, looking as horribly white as usual, dressed like they came out of the character sheets of his own shitty tabletop game. What an ego this man had, and I was all too glad to deflate it.
Even I was a bit dumbfounded tho by just how impressively shitty his two Tiger I tanks looked. You think they just drove straight on through a confederate convention and kept whatever stuck on. Nazis really had no sense of aesthetic anymore, now did they.
“I know you’re as bound to this world’s rules as I am and you must abide any musical challenge. So, let’s say you and your band go first and then I’ll go and if we can’t decide a winner, we let our tanks battle it out?” I grinned.
“Tanks? What tanks? You’re all filthy and impure and unworthy! All I see are three pieces of trash needing to be incinerated by my two boys here, Dainsleif and Tyrfing.” Varg laughed.
“You do realize those are shitty, evil swords, right? Good job revealing you Nazis know goddamn nothing about the vikings you try to emulate. And too bad I’m one myself. You know they traded blood with all sorts, right? Mine were all too happy to mingle with the Mongolians.” I laughed back. “Besides, I’m a dual wielder myself. I’m more particular to...”
This was it, like I was going to let Varg go first. This time, The Wardancer goes on, as the one and only act, singing her song as her crew blew them all to hell. Fascist scum don’t get a fair turn so long as I’m the hero Melodia prophecised would appear before them. The next words were the magic words and as I shouted them, my tanks appeared and began to rain hellfire down on Varg and his shitty crew.
“...Gram and Skofnung. Presenting, the slayer of Fafnir and the sword of a dozen berserker bodyguards themselves! Get ‘em!”
I cackled as my cavalry appeared and got the first salvo in. With that, I dropped my megaphone and traded it in for my microphone, ready to sing the resistance ballad to define our generation.
“Greetings, Varg. You may have gotten the jump on Ro’athe here, but I am Atma the Wardancer. I’m the hero of this story, and it shall go as I writ. Or sing, as it were. This here is my band, the Comrades In Arms, and I have a song for you.”
Hoshigiri and Hedge blew the speakers on and went to their places, starting the rhythm up as I pulled out an electric guitar and cackled one last time.
“I like to call it: The Golden Rule.”
As the Nazis desperately tried to fight back, explosions all around us, I began to sing, making my way through the center of it all to Varg himself, step by step, slowly, a touch of murder in my eyes. This was the final thing he heard before he and his army were wiped off the face of Melodia for good:
“Nazi punks driving tanks up my street
Settling near me, thinking them human elite
Well I tell you what, you ain’t moving in
Because for humanity’s best, where the fuck is your chin?
Whether you be alt-white or alt-right
Or think yourself a crusader for men’s rights
The only thing to remember with Nazis is The Golden Rule
Do unto others as they’d do unto you
(But make sure you do it first)
Pacifism gets you nowhere, in the end we’d all lose
They’ll have you saying Heil Hitler before the Hakenkreuz
And at the end of the day they just throw you away
If you don’t punch first, it’s with our lives you’ll pay
So go ahead and stomp on ‘em, choke ‘em, put them in the dirt
We’ll eradicate every single last one of you cowardly brown shirts
I’ve been hunting your kind down and making you run away
Since I was but sixteen, I’ve made sure you don’t see the light of day
So you try again and again and you just cannot win
History will vindicate the underground again and again
Let fire spread and take your ashes out into the wind
You’re all washed up, nobodies, losers, the all-time has beens
You’re all show and all talk, I can see it in your eyes
As you go around, regurgitating your precious Furher’s lies
Well it ends here and it ends now and it ends tonight
Because we’re the underground and we always bring the fight
You’re stuck in your worst nightmare, we’re in Castle Wolfenstein
I’ll go BJ Blackowiz on you and make all your scalps now mine
Because if he were real of me I know he’d be proud
Because I fucking hate Nazi scum like you and I’ll sing it out loud
Because….
Whether you be alt-white or alt-right
Or think yourself a crusader for men’s rights
The only thing to remember with Nazis is The Golden Rule
Do unto others as they’d do unto you
(But make sure you do it first)
The axe of judgment falls on you not me
Tonight, on Nazi corpses, I’ll dance in victory
So say whatever invocation to Odin now, say your prayers
Because Valhalla’s for me, of our feast you get no share
If you try to rise again, I have only one warning for you fools
Like you’d do unto us, I’d first do unto you
That’s the beauty of The Golden Rule
Maybe next time you’ll think your shit actions through
(But we’ll still do it first)
And even then whatever army you raise
I’ll turn ploughs to swords for countless days
For every one of us you take, a thousand shall rise again
The sun now sets on the Nazi’s time, it is now your end
Because….
Whether you be alt-white or alt-right
Or think yourself a crusader for men’s rights
The only thing to remember with Nazis is The Golden Rule
Do unto others as they’d do unto you
(But make sure you do it first)
Let The Golden Rule always be the Nazi’s fatal curse!”
Fuck pyrotechnics, this time we finished our concert by blowing Varg’s tanks to smithereens rather effortlessly, my crew popping out of their own tanks and chasing down any stragglers, leaving just Varg and I left. I laughed. It’s all I could do.
Well, except the part where I took my microphone and wrapped it around his neck, choking the last of his filthy life out of him. Get the fuck out of my Melodia, you piece of garbage. Now my stat sheet said I could never use a conventional melee weapon, yes, but music was my weapon, and I was going to interpret it literally just once.
I walked back to the stage, tired, picking up the megaphone and then commanding Nobu to cut the camp gates down with her guitar, letting the townsfolk go.
“You’re all free to go, people of Ro’athe. They won’t be bothering you any longer.” I then sighed and slumped onto the stage, exhausted. The adrenaline was finally leaving me but it was totally worth it. Every one of us got to scalp a genuine Nazi that day, free a bunch of people, and watch me throw the gauntlet down first for once.
Because there is no room for that kind of shit in any world where I dwell. Where the Wardancer is free to sing and dance, so should everyone be. All we asked for in return was a day or two to rest up and clean up, maybe help them get some sort of structure going again, because we were going to have to be at our absolute top shape to take on the Demon Lord. And this way, if Hjalmar sent out anything else this way, we’d be able to block them.
“Can I just say that was the most impressive use of a microphone I’ve ever seen?” Shawn exclaimed.
“I’m just glad we somehow were able to maneuver that thing with Lassie giving the commands.” Gus added.
“Can it you two, we did very good today. At least while I’m here, I can keep some streets clean, even if it’s not home.” Lassiter snipped.
“You all did just fine, for a bunch of motley nitwits.” Nobunaga laughed. “I knew I’d eventually get you all conscripted, and what better way to unite people than against Nazis?”
The lot of us slept good that night, albeit on a bunch of cots, but it was probably the most comfortable cot I’d ever slept on. We had to spend some of the night explaining to a few of the Not From Earth people why these people were so godawful and we had to do what we had to do, but in they all agreed we did the right thing, if only because it was absolutely badass.
But Hjalmar’s realm was looming close over us, as was the end of our adventure. If there’s anything more dangerous than fascists, it’s otherworldly hellbeasts bent on ruining music and peace forever. And you know the Wardancer wasn’t about to do that.
Because I’ll just do unto him what he’d do unto you.
But do it first, of course.