02/08/2020 Snippet, ANSTEORRA RANGERS.

I’m starting to think that they need at least one fight with this mudnado thing before they even got to the Old American ruin. Only problem is, I have yet to figure out how they distracted it long enough to get a bunch of wagons away safely. And themselves, of course. Can’t kill them off in the first fight, because then what’s the story?

Five minutes later, Nita was blinking at the two humans. “Shouldn’t you be asking a sergeant what they think, sirs?” she pointed out to them. “I’m not even in charge of my squad.”

Mike looked at Jimmy. “We got any sergeants sporting a moniker like ‘Sharpfangs,’ Lieutenant?”

“No, Captain,” replied Jimmy. “Although you never know, with Sergeant Laredo. He might be in disguise.”

Nita bit her lip at that one: Sergeant Edward Laredo Abactor was five foot six and was about the weight of a preteen orc, too. The sergeant could also brawl up to four men at once before he started getting tired, so Nita just said “I’m just here to do my duties, sirs. I don’t make a fuss about the nomen.”

“Didn’t say you had, Nita,” Mike said amiably. “But we’re figuring out what we have to work with, here, and one of the things we have is a Sharpfang. You got any thoughts about the mudnado?”

“Just to ask the refugees,” Nita replied. “Maybe they have a better idea of what that thing is than we do.”

Jimmy shook his head. “The refugees are elvish farmers and boatmen,” he pointed out. “They say that the mudnadoes started happening after the Dominion attack, and the refugees are mostly sensible people, so they have gone no further than assuming it is all just a Dominion curse. It is hard to argue.”

“But is it, sir?” said Nita. “If the mudnadoes come from the Dominion, why didn’t they use them before? Those assholes aren’t shy about throwing curses around.”

“Hrm,” Mike said. “A good question, Corporal. What’s the next one?”

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