Valknar
patreon
NM- Chapter 34
🕑 Added 2025-03-15 14:40:04 +0000 UTCI returned to the church after helping Roberson back to his lair. The Challenger's sword had done a real number on his legs. Rigger returned to his lair, unhappy at missing out on the chance for violence and blood. The spirit retreated from the light of the sun.
I knew what I would find but not what it would say.
Wong Da. July 7th, 1887, A.D. He came to honour his family and find the strength to move forward on his path.
“Wong Da. Another successful Challenger and I still have no clue about their reward. Such is my life. A hint would be appreciated.”
Silence.
Sighing, I returned to dealing with the things I had to take care of.
As for the rest of July, nothing involving outsiders took place. The plants grew, the insects flew, and my Hunters did whatever they wanted. Rigger was much more active during this time at night than usual. He found the deer carcass had reminded or awoken something sleeping with him. He was out and about in the forest at night, more often hunting. He had also set traps and brought in the kills from them—primarily rabbits or small animals such as squirrels.
He took the bodies into his lair, and I often saw smoke coming from his new chimney. Whatever he was doing, he seemed happier, and as he was doing nothing that threatened the dungeon, I allowed him free reign.
The other Hunters were up and about now and again, but none of them to the extent Rigger had been. Roberson was the closest, but that was mainly for firewood. He seemed to be preparing for winter and ensuring he had sufficient stock if needed. I did not count the Spirit, as she was out and about every time the sun was no threat to her.
I spent several nights just watching her and her nocturnal patterns. It took a little time, but I noticed that she followed a similar patrol pattern around her territory every night. Certain random elements were thrown into it, but she always went to certain areas at selected times. I didn't know why, but it seemed to be what she was content to do. And yes, I knew the irony of using the word content when it involved anything with that Spirit.
Life continued around the forest that hid my Dungeon. Births and deaths are recorded in the local paper, along with regional and international news. The Rochester family continued to grow, and it was clear they were becoming wealthy and well-respected within the local community.
The Driver family was also expanding, with Amy pregnant again. Looking out across the world from my vantage point at the top of the bubble, I was content with what was happening and with what plans I had in motion. Traffic along the road was a constant now. None were turning to my Dungeon, and I was content with that. Killing too many too fast would attract the attention I was seeking to avoid.
July gave way to August, and things continued as they had for many years. No one came to New Midian, which was unexpected. Rigger was still active during this time and returned with bigger kills on his hunting trips. Another stag and a wolf were added to his kill total. What he was planning to do with those bodies, I had no idea, and some part of me did not want to know.
August gave way to September, and the first hints of autumn started to appear later in the month. It was not until the end of September that the first international story was reported that actually interested me. The story was buried in the back of the paper, but it seemed there had been some form of large flood in China. The editors of the Crossway Chronicle were downplaying it, but what I remembered from the earth's geography indicated it was something more substantial. The Yellow River had flooded in China, and what little I could glean from the article was that the death toll was massive.
September shifted into October, and I continued to look for additional information on the flood. However, the international news section of the paper only mentioned it occasionally. Around the world, the British Empire was taking over different areas, and tensions between Germany and France were still relatively high in Europe.
The countryside around me changed as autumn settled in and winter prepared to return. Rigger slowed his nightly excursions and seemed to prepare to withdraw for winter. October passed with little happening, and November soon arrived.
The weather was a lot damper now, and the temperature was dropping. The red and golden leaves of autumn were now falling to the ground, and in the distance, the snow line on the mountains was starting to move down. One thing of note that happened in international news that interested me and was reported on in quite a bit of detail was the confirmation that the dominion of Ireland would gain its separate parliament on the 1st of August 1890. This was the final part of the Irish Home Rule Act passed by the British parliament.
December arrived, and the snow soon followed. The report on establishing the International Bureau of Intellectual Property was one of the last papers I got from the neighbouring town before we were cut off again. I snorted at this and thought of all the different pieces of technology I could use to pattern through them and make an absolute fortune. However, I quickly concluded that this would be a fool's errand as I understood the concepts of this technology but not how to design or make it.
From my perspective, the winter of 1887-88 was not as bad as the last. That winter had been brutal, and the Dungeon was utterly snowed in for several weeks. It was not until the start of February that contact with the outside world was re-established. It turned out that January 1888 had been quite a busy and tragic month.
What people called the schoolhouse Blizzard swept through Dakota, Montana, Minnesota, Nebraska, Kansas, and a large chunk of Texas. Several hundred people were left dead by the sudden and powerful blizzard, primarily children, as they were caught heading home from school when it had swept through. The Hatfield-McCoy feud rumbled with what people called the battle of Grapevine Creek. Several people had died in the clash, and the US marshals announced that they had had enough deploying many Marshalls to the area to end the violence and the feud.
In February, several more blizzards and heavy snowfalls swept through the area, closing the road routes again. It became safe to travel again at the start of March, but the weather was still unpredictable.
Once I had contact with the outside world again, March proved to be an equally busy and tragic month for the United States and internationally. In Germany, Wilhelm I, Emperor of Germany, died and was succeeded by his son Frederick III. His reign was only four days as he died, and his son Wilhelm II ascended to the throne. This led to quite a lot of confusion and grief within Germany. On March 11th, the great Blizzard of 1888 swept through the eastern seaboard of the United States, shutting down all commerce and travel. The reports coming out claimed that hundreds were dead, mostly frozen in their own homes. To top the tragedy off, the summit of Ritter Island collapsed into the sea, causing a tsunami. Reports were varying, but some claimed that between 500 on the low side and up to 5000 on the high side were dead from the resulting wave.
“Well, this month chalking up quite the death toll.”
The month passed, and April arrived. The countryside around me was soaring now very quickly. Every day, it seemed there was more green and less snow. By the end of the month, the snow was gone, and the countryside was alive once more. This same spirit seemed to have been passed on to the rest of the country, and traffic along the road had increased markedly. In Texas, the new capitol building was opened to the public in Austin on April 21st. Interestingly, the Mexicans renamed the city after the failed war of independence. However, when the Americans took the territory, the name was reclaimed.
This month also saw the US Marshals breaking up the gang along the Mexican border known as the Cowboys. Over the last few years, they had aggressively hunted down and arrested all the members they could find. Many had now fled across the border into northern Mexico but had found a very unwelcoming Mexican military waiting for them. Those who were not killed were handed back over to the US for trial.
May arrived, and spring was in full force. On the 10th day of the month, I got my first visitors since the Challenger last year. I spotted them as they rode up to the gates while I watched the world pass by from the top of the bubble.
“What’s all this?”
Two covered wagons came up the road. Both wagons looked battered, and the canvas coverings had been patched in several different locations. I could see four men riding on the wagons, but I was unsure if there was more inside either of the wagons.
“Pioneers? Doubtful, most are coming in with the train now.”
Since establishing the rail link, I have seen a sharp drop in the numbers of pioneers and families travelling by wagon along the road on the forest's edge. This was one of the signs to me that what people call the Wild West was now ending. Civilisation and progress were slowly taming the land and containing the wild men that once lived there.
The wagons were parked in the open space before the gates, and I shifted my position to get a good view of the men who had arrived. The four men I had seen were soon joined by two more from the back of each wagon. I looked closer at the wagons now and counted the additional packs and containers on the sides. Mixed in with them were many tools, and I would hazard a bet that these men were miners.
“If you are, why are you here?”
They were a rough and ready group. It could be that these men were used to living in the more uncivilised areas of the country. Something was a bit off about them, and I was unsure what it was.
Listening to them was quite interesting. They were miners but what would be termed “claim jumpers.” What they were doing here became apparent as they investigated the rumours of the hidden gold within the graveyard. I suspected they were here for a bit of grave robbing, on top of that if they could get away with it.
The four crossed through the gate and stood around the courtyard. They took in the sight of the dungeon and started to make plans. They did mention that the proportions of the place seemed off, as well as the density of the structures and graves present. This should have been a red flag for them, but they were far more interested in what they could gain from the place after some exploration.
The church in the distance was their primary objective.
[Alert! Intruders are not recognised as Challengers.]
The message came as soon as the first crossed out of the courtyard onto the southern path. I checked them over and countered that all four were armed with pistols strapped to their thighs.
The sun was high in the sky, meaning that they had several solid hours of sunlight ahead of them. I could sense my Hunters stirring once more as they were now aware of the intruders within the Dungeon. Rigger was not going to like dealing with these intruders today. The sky was nearly completely clear, and the sun was bright, shining down on everything.
“Four armed men heading along the southern path towards the church.”
I knew I did not need to tell my Hunters is more than that. I had been trying to get them to work more closely together when stalking large groups, but their natures were in opposition to me every time. I had concluded that I needed to keep my instructions simple and easy to follow. This was not because my hunters were dumb but because they did not like working in concert with each other. This meant simple battle tactics and ambushes were the most effective.
By the time all four Hunters were in position, the four men had made it roughly halfway through the southern pathway towards the church. Ambush is the most effective at the junctions in the maze, giving them different angles of attack when the order comes. This had worked well in the past, and I thought it would work well here again.
“Go.”
The four Hunters emerged from their hiding spots and attacked. Rigger was the first seen, and the men cried out in alarm as they went for their guns. The others were forced to factor them into the equations of their firing arcs. One man managed to get a shot off, clipping Rigger and breaking his stride. He quickly compensated and was soon attacking again.
The man who shot him was unable to get a second one off as he was distracted by the others around him, finding themselves locked in vicious hand-to-hand combat. This allowed Rigger to get close enough to jump him. The flying clothesline took him to the ground, and soon, there was blood spilling.
[A Hunter has made a Kill]
These were tough and brutal men themselves, used to violence. They were not going down easy, fighting back with everything they had. Fists and elbows were being used, and even biting occurred across the remaining three fights. Each fight saw the momentum swing in my Hunter's favour as the rest of the men died.
[A Hunter has made a Kill]
[A Hunter has made a Kill]
[A Hunter has made a Kill]
[Hunter: Atticus Roberson, Level up!]
Looking over my victorious but bloodied Hunters, I counted the injuries that they had sustained. Rigger was the worst, sporting a bullet graze on his arm. It had torn through his coat, and I could see some blood coming from the wound. His shirt was absorbed, and most of it was under the coat.
“Right, clean-up time. Rigger, how is your arm?”
“Reckon it be fine, Keeper.” He spoke as he tested his arm to see how much range of motion it had and how much pain it caused him.
“Good to know. Search the bodies and make sure that they're buried by dawn. The two wagons outside need to be taken care of. You all know what to do.”
Roberson searched the body of his kill and then looked over it for another reason. He didn't seem too impressed. He slipped the body over his shoulder and carried it to his lair. As he walked, I went with him.
“Congratulations on gaining your new level. After everything is dealt with, it's best to go through with that tonight.”
“Understood, Keeper.”
The horses and money the group had were sent to the Driver household. It was not much, as it seemed they had been heading on an expedition up into the mountains. I kept the mining equipment, and some more dynamite was added to my collection. The wagons were dumped into the ravine to the West. The bodies were buried. All the alcohol and tobacco were split, and the hunters went off happy with their bounty.
I waited until the next day and looked over Roberson's status sheet to see what he had chosen to do with his level-up.
Hunter Name Atticus Roberson
Level 2
Kills 0/8
Loyalty Good
Skills
Blades. V
Handguns. IV
Rifles. IV
Stealth. III
Tracking. II
Explosives. III
Corpse Harvesting. I
Dark Traits
Cannibal
“Corpse Harvesting?”
At first, I thought it was an odd choice, but then I remembered his dark traits. After a little more thought, I realised it was probably the best choice outside of improving his base skills. Whatever he was doing in his lair, he seemed pretty busy, and there was a regular trail of smoke from the chimney. His picture had not changed much, but he seemed a bit darker with his skin tone the more I looked.
May then settled back into the usual sequence of events I had become used to. I moved around the dungeon, investigating different things that piqued my interest. During the month, I was looking at the map of this part of the continent. Something in the back of my mind was telling me that there was something here that I was seeing but not fully understanding. Of course, the map was different from what I had expected from my timeline, but something else was an itch in the back of my mind.
“What is it?”
I spent the better part of a day looking at the map and thinking about it. There was Vancouver in British Columbia, where it was supposed to be. Moving south, there was no Seattle, but half a dozen communities spread out where it was. I continued down the map, looking at it, trying to understand what I was seeing but not grasping. I reached Portland at the mouth of the river it sat on. From its location, it was clearly going to become a major hub as it had quite a decent harbour and access to a large river.
In the end, I had to give up as I couldn't see what it was, which frustrated me, but it was another one of those things that I could not control. I settled back and waited for what June 1888 would bring me.
