The Butcher of Gadobhra

Charon docked his boat and looked at the line of souls waiting to cross over the Styx from the realm of Hades to the other side of the river. Not a lot today. When wars raged, the number of people in that line eclipsed all others. Well, except a plague during the cold season. Or a disaster such as the earth cracking open and buildings tumbling. Those were bad. Or a swarm got loose. Those had been bad. Now that he thought about it, wars were only bad during the slow times. Today he had a few thousand warriors waiting not-so-patiently, and in the front of the line were five farmers.

Charon had seen them the day before, and sent a query to accounting. Why were farmers in the same que as Warriors who died valiantly in battle? The answer came back today, terse and to the point: "Status confirmed." Now he was curious, but he wasn't going to get a chance to ask them. A messenger from the boss flew up on papery wings, it's dark skin the color of old ink. "Boss says to get up to the big door and guard it. He's off to dinner and back in an hour."

"Dinner? He never dines out."

The messenger rolled his eyes, "Of course not. He doesn't waste time during tax season, and it's always tax season down here. But someone told him it was rib night at the Huntress' place and he grabbed a bottle of the good stuff and ran off." The conversation was interrupted by the sound of dogs barking. The messenger cackled and fled. "Time to get to work, boat-boy, upset puppy means something's trying to sneak out. I'm not sticking around to find out what it is. That's your problem."

Charon hurried along the steep and rocky paths that led from the Styx to the entrance to Tartarus, cursing the useless messenger, but agreeing with his course of action. He paused to rest and sharpen his scythe. Some of the things down there had tough hides. The dog was still barking, but the sound had taken on another tone. Less of an alarm, more of...? He wasn't sure what that bark signified. As he topped a rise, he saw the wide, barren value that led to the gate to Tartarus and its imprisoned monstrosities. Something flew toward him and he dodged. Turning to look, he saw a large bone. Then he was barreled over by the huge bulk of Cerebus. One head grabbed the bone, one head grabbed Charon, and the other continued to bark playfully as the guardian at the gate ran back to Rolly and Squirmie.

Charon was dumped to the ground, dripping with dog drool. Rolly picked up the four-foot long bone and tossed it the length of the valley, sending the three-headed dog in pursuit.

Charon saw that the creature talking was one of the Swarm Queen's prodigy. Small, but dangerous. It would cause so much trouble if allowed to breed more of its kind. The boatman took hold of his Scythe and prepared to send it back to Tartarus in pieces. That's when the human stepped between them. "Hi! Sorry about the dog drool. No one plays with him and he's lonely and excited. You know how dogs can get."

Charon was confused. His vision saw three creatures: A Simple Shepherd, a Hero, and a spawn of Typhon. The first two were human, and the third anything but, as one would expect of a descendent of the original Draconic Titan. He shook his bony head, and the images merged, and he recognized one of Lord Hades special projects. The princess of the swarm alighted on his shoulder, becoming just another of his pets. Pulling himself together as best he could with his cowl and robe hanging wetly on his bony frame, Charon used his deepest voice. "You are in a perilous place, mortal, and in perilous company. Why are you trying to enter Tartarus? To return that creature to its cage? Let me deal with it and the job is done. The door will not open."

"Really? It opened for me a few minutes ago with no problem. I closed it behind me. Careful, he's coming back." Charon jumped to the side as Cerebus slid to a stop and dropped the bone. Rolly heaved it into the air again, this time tossing it like a caber. Three heads followed the trajectory and four feet raced after it.

"We walked from the very bottom of Tartarus to the top. Isn't that how it works? We get to leave and walk back to our lives. Why have a door if you can't leave? And Squirmie comes with me. She isn't part of the swarm anymore. We parted ways with her mom today. Talk about pissed. I'm glad you guys have her locked up tight. She's one of the few down there that's really messed up and bad."

Charon scoffed, "Oh, and I assume the likes of the Manticore don't scare you? His poison has sent more heroes back to the bottom of the ramp than any other creature."

Rolly nodded. "I believe it. He killed me 27 times today."

"That's what you get for slacking on your Poison Resistance, Pretty Bug. You needed more experience than I did to reach Virulent Poison Resistance."

Vitriolic Poison Resistance, Squirmy is going to eat every one of those damned berries I can find. They are a menace to innocent caterpillars.>

Charon followed the conversation as best he could. "You attacked the Manticore in order to gain experience in dying from poison? No creature survives his deadly venom."

Charon sat down on a rock. He had a bad headache and needed a drink. "Can I ask your intentions, then, Hero? My lord Hades has charged me with making sure you are sent on your way each time you enter his realm."

"That's nice of you, thanks. I was going to play fetch until I tire this puppy out and then head to the other side. Lots of stuff to do, and I have a baby Wyvern that needs more training."

"As you will. My boat is at the bottom of the path, I'll save you a spot in front." Charon left, shaking his head, and walking along the edge of valley to not be involved again with the Hero and his game of fetch.

After a short time, Rolly gave each head one last scratch and headed down to the boat on the river. As he sat down, he turned and looked at the people in front. "Hey, I know you guys! You fought in the Gopher Wars with me. Did that every get crazy at the end, or what?"

The shades of five young men and women nodded to him respectfully.

"So, what's the plan? Squirmie and I are walking out of here when we get to the other side."

Charon answered for the silent shades. "These will too. As warriors who died in battle, they may choose to take a journey of seven years and contemplate life along the way, or fight a hundred foes upon the Stairway of Endless Battle. And of course, there is always the option to end this cycle of their lives and start in a new incarnation."

One of the shades put his head in his hands, weeping. Rolly looked at Charon. "Why is he so sad?"

The boatman continued to push his pole into the water, propelling them through the deadly waters. "Ah, he despairs of fighting the battles, but seven years is too long. He has a young wife, pregnant with his child. Such things are sad, but it is not up to me to change the rules." The boat touched the farther shore.

Rolly hoped out. "Of course not. You work for the administration and keep the boats running on time. Don't worry about it, I'll handle things this time."

"Hey! Who wants to take the express lane back to the surface?"

Five farmers and seven-thousand, one-hundred, and seventy-three warrior shades of all races looked at Rolly and raised their hands or weapons as Charon looked on, horrified.

"But...you can't..."

Green-Silver scaled armor formed around the Hero, transforming him into an armored knight. His pet doubled in size and hovered above him on iridescent wings.

"Of course I can. Leading a flock to safety is what Shepherds do."

Charon sat in empty boat, wondering how to explain this to his boss.

Some timeless amount of time later, and army marched through subterranean caverns towards the surface. The lands of the dead had many exits. Any deep cavern, mysterious doorway, or flaming charnel pit would do. This time, the reborn warriors stepped into a foul-smelling cave filled with gnawed bones, piles of shed fur, and gopher dung before finding their way to surface in a field of herbs.

The shades of the warriors faded to reappear whole and healthy in their own lands. The farmers gleefully ran to their homes to be reunited with their loved ones. And to avoid further puns. In the distance, smoke and flames shot into the sky and the sound of battle came to their ears along with the scent of smoke.

"Smells like Ozzy is cooking something up. Let's go find out what it is. I'm famished."

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