Chương 253: Chapter 504: Captain Jack Galette has come for your pies.

It was midnight at the corral. A hundred sedge beasts surrounded the enclosure on three sides, vying for the best view. Rolly was walking among them, giving out handfuls of popcorn from a sack and discussing the upcoming fights. Ben and Suzette were up first. Ben was concentrating on dodging and only using his whip and crossbow, while Suzette went after him with darts and daggers. Marcy had suggested the training exercise after she saw what could happen if they used all of their abilities.

"You aren't going to master the basics without a lot of hard work and practice, and you won't get that if you end the fight fast with nuclear strikes and abominable poisons. I'm scoring you on this. You gain a point by tagging your opponent with an attack, and lose two points if they tag you. This is a one-hour fight. Either of you can call for a refreshment break, which allows both of you to heal up and regain stamina. But whoever calls for the break loses 25 points."

"Ah, a penalty to assess who is the weakest? Luckily, I'm used to being in the saddle for hours on end."

"And you need a break after half an hour when tending bar. You'll be begging for a time-out long before that." Grinning at each other, tossing out constant banter, they started fighting. Both were adept at dodging and acrobatics and were trying not to get hit. The sedge beasts enjoyed every minute of it, and Rolly had to send Squirmie for more popcorn. Ozzy watched the fight, looking for patterns in their movements. Marcy watched, yelled, and kept the fight going.

Neither called for a break, but by the end of the hour, they were barely moving. Each had been healing themselves as they took damage, and burning stamina as they sprinted, rolled, leaped, and dodged. Suzette had better protection, her Fae armor deflecting most damage, but it didn't make a difference in the score. Ben's sedgehide leather was torn to pieces by the end of the fight, hanging in tatters as they collapsed against the wall of the barn.

Marcy looked at the two of them, part of her still astonished at how long they could fight. Some of her next enhancement points were going to be allocated to extra stamina, something she'd neglected.

"Great job. I'm seeing improvement already. And now you have front row seats for round two. Rolly, you and Ozzy get to face off against each other. The Shepherd looked at the Butcher.

"Well, this will be interesting. What restrictions are there?"

"No help from bugs or chains, just the two of you, beating the crap out of each other with melee weapons. This is an exercise in movement and positioning, but also blocking your opponent's weapons with your own and setting up counterstrikes. You both have stupidly heavy armor and dual melee weapons. I want Ozzy working with his cleavers today, and Rolly using those freaky scythe things you like to terrorize poor little girls with. Ben and Suzette are drained of mana but recovering.

Ben can heal Ozzy, and Suzette can heal Rolly. Points are scored for blocking blows with your weapons and scoring hits on your opponent. Need a break? That's fine, but you take a hit to your score." Where the last fight was a dance, this one was pure butchery. Rolly could roll and dodge, but chose to stand and duke it out with Ozzy, practicing blocking a high-strength opponent with one or two of his weapons.

While both had two weapons, Rolly had reach and used his two attacks better, striking in different areas, forcing Ozzy to block each with one weapon. They weren't good at it at the start, and blood flowed freely. Ben and Suzette were chugging mana potions to keep up as they threw Triage spells at their partners. Back and forth across the small arena they went, slashing and blocking. Ozzy's leather apron was destroyed, his pants slashed to ribbons, but Ben kept healing him.

Rolly was regenerating constantly, and Suzette had an easier time healing him. His armor, actually part of him, took damage but slowly healed. That was what did him in after fifty-two minutes, not being able to keep up with the extra stamina loss. He sank to his knees in front of Ozzy.

"I give up. Kill me, or let me take a break." Ozzy was concerned he'd hurt his friend.

"Are you ok? Where did I wound you?"

"Well, pretty much everywhere, but I turned off the pain, and I'm doing fine. But I'm starving!!! And it doesn't help that Squirmie is over there stuffing her face on a bucket of popcorn!" <Why would you think Squirmie would try to help? Nestmate duels are prime entertainment, and popcorn is tasty. > Ozzy's belly rumbled.

"I could go for a meal myself. Burned a lot of calories in that fight." Rolly looked at the herd, "Don't worry, folks. We're off for a quick snack at the tavern, and then we'll host a bonus event." Marcy grinned, "Eat up, Butcher, we have a rematch, as soon as you're ready."

"Let me get a plate of sausage and a couple of pies in me and I'll be good to go." Suzette shook her head.

"Nope, no sausage for you. I guessed you two would be hungry, and I've been listening to the gurgles coming from Ben for an hour. I sent one of my wind sprites to let Betty know we'd need food. She's working late tonight, baking cakes and pies. She'll have a full table waiting for us."

"Works for me." Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. But as they got near the tavern, they heard the sound of battle, cursing, and cries of pain. Ozzy stepped through the doorway only to have someone run into him, full-tilt, rebounding off his chest. The man on the floor was dressed in a bedraggled captain's coat of dubious origins and a battered felt hat. His eyepatch was askew, revealing he had two good eyes.

His long, grey beard was stained purple and red, as were his hands. Pies fell out of the large canvas bag over his shoulder.

"Curse you, get out of my way, you overgrown minnow, or I'll hang you from my boat's mizzen plank and make you scrub the galley mast!" Ben was appalled at the man's lack of proper nautical terminology. Rolly was interested in rescuing the pies. Ozzy grabbed him by the front of his stained shirt.

"You're threatening a Captain, and somehow I doubt you've got a ship of your own." Betty came running into the room, a frying pan in each hand.

"Put him down, Ozzy. This Pie Pirate is mine!" The pirate pulled a cutlass and a dagger as she came at him.

"No lass, no matter how comely, comes between Captain Jack Galette and his fruit-stuffed pastries. Years from now, you'll be able to tell the tale of how you almost stopped Captain Jack Galette from making off with your cargo of tasty tarts. Have at you, wench!" He lunged at Betty, who used one pan to slam his sword arm, spinning him and wrecking his dagger attack to follow. With her free hand, she slammed him in the head with a ten-pound cast-iron frying pan.

As he reeled back, she continued to use one pan to parry and the other to strike. He collapsed to the floor, and she hit him three more times.

"Can't be too sure with these types. They try to fake their deaths a lot." Betty the Cook has defeated Captain Jack Galette, the notorious Pie Pirate Betty has earned 5 Enhancement Points, 500 Boss Experience, and may add Jack's secret recipe for Salmon Turnovers to her cookbook. There was a small silence, and then wild applause. Betty looked a little embarrassed.

"I'd best see about getting food on the table before another one shows up." Everyone looked at Suzette as Better left the room. Rolly asked, "This happens often?" She shrugged.

"Only to Betty and Granya, and only on big cooking days. Last week, they caught a masked burglar in black and white striped clothing trying to steal all the hams from the cellar." Rolly was appalled, "Zounds. How evil. Squirmie and I will have to start patrolling and taking care of these villains."

"Don't you dare! Granya and Betty love the points, and they've gained a lot of recipes after banging their heads in. Frying pans seem to do extra damage to food thieves." Ben nodded.

"A traditional approach used by many cooks against the depredations of culinary bandits. Might I suggest we make the area safe by getting rid of those pies?" Marcy helped with the cleanup.

"I wonder if she'd teach me that technique. Never saw someone dual-wielding frying pans before, but it looked damned effective. Far to the South.... Darkdeath ran his hand along the polished ironwood of the ballista, loving the fine finish and dark stain that had been applied to the wood. Everything about his new acquisitions spoke of quality, from the rare materials to the high craftsmanship. They were everything the brochure had promised, including a blessing from the priests of the Wargod, Ares.

"I'll say one thing for this guy, he puts out a quality product." His wife belched from where she was reclining on a large chair with a big mug in her hand.

"Good beer, too." She'd never liked beer before she met Darkdeath. It tasted like fermented horse piss. And he'd agreed the first time he'd taken a sip of orcish ale. He'd been appalled at the quality, and anyone who had tasted the Bludgeon Brew he was fond of had agreed. It was at least drinkable. But this stuff? It reeked of dark mana and smelled of old caverns and death. A proper brew for a warrior princess.

"Yeah, it doesn't get better than a cold Blud Extra-Dark on a hot day. Well, maybe if we'd just had a battle to work up a thirst." He grabbed another flagon of beer as he inspected the dozens of trebuchets, onagers, and ballistas that the Many Drinks Tribe had purchased for him. Some of his chiefs had been angry that he gave them a seat at the War Council, but not anymore.

Seeing the power of their shamans as they opened forest gates to the far north to bring the new weapons southward had been impressive, as was the amount of powerful booze they drank to enhance their magic. Even the densest of orc Warchiefs understood that artillery, both magical and physical, was a force multiplier on the battlefield, and this tribe was giving them both. And they were great to drink with. A triple win as far as Darkdeath was concerned.

"So, when do we get to use them?" Darkdeath looked at the exhausted goblin tribe, sleeping off their efforts to provide valuable services to his horde.

"The shamans say the Many Drinks will need two days to recover, that's about the time I want for planning and logistics. Ask your father to call a full meeting of the Warchiefs. About time to get this show on the road and crump some heads."