Rebirth of the Nephilim

Chapter 440: Clan Warsong



Chapter 440: Clan Warsong

Bridget’s childhood home was, much like Thea’s, a farm on the outside of the town walls. Located to the east of Brightstone, it took a short walk to get there following the main road before cutting north along a smaller, well-worn dirt road. All along the way were vast fields of bushes, each plant rising to around five feet in height, that were still in the early stages of regrowing their leaves from winter. These were the sun berry bushes that Bridget had once told Jadis about, a staple crop of the region that most farmers grew since they flowered all year long except for in winter. Jadis remembered the golden little berries as being one of the first preserved foods she had found when she had been scrounging through abandoned homes to survive back when she had first been reborn on Oros, so she had something of a soft spot for them.

When their group passed through the berry fields to a wide clearing, they were greeted by the sight of Clan Warsong’s family farm. Looking at the cluster of stone buildings, it was clear to Jadis that the similarities between Thea’s mother’s house and Bridget’s family home ended at being located outside of the town walls.

Six stone buildings had been built near each other in an orderly fashion with just enough space between the structures to not feel claustrophobic. Each one was two stories tall and far wider than the typical building style Jadis had seen elsewhere. None of the buildings had any windows on their first floors, and the second-floor windows all had thick metal shutters, some of which had been closed tight while others had been left open for the day. The roofs were made of stone shingles, and hatches had been built into them that were just big enough for a person to pop out the top if needed. One such hatch had been propped open and Jadis could see a person moving around inside through the opening.

The farmhouses had clearly been designed with defenses in mind, which explained why Clan Warsong was living comfortably in their own homes rather than moving inside the Brightstone town walls for the duration of the demonic invasion. While the buildings probably wouldn’t be able to withstand a real siege, Jadis was sure that it would take more than a band of bone thieves to beat down the sturdy walls and thick doors of the houses. Then there was the fact that most of the people living in the compound were trained combatants.

Just as Jadis had the thought of how the people living in the farmhouses were all warriors, she saw the main door to the closest building bang open. Rather than a phalanx of armed mercenaries, from it streamed a veritable tide of children, ages ranging anywhere from five to ten. It was hard to count how many exactly since they were all running and jumping in an excited tangle of adolescent exuberance, but Jadis guessed there were probably close to fifteen of them.

“Bridget! Bridget!” their voices called out in a noisy chorus. “You’re back!”

“Velma! Tad! Clay!” Bridget shouted as she tossed aside her lantern-flail and rushed headfirst into the charging horde. “You little buggers have grown so much! Hunter! Look at you, you’re a damn giant!”

The happily squawking children piled up on Bridget, practically drowning the woman in their bid to climb all over her. She easily withstood the tide, hugging each one in turn, sometimes raising them over her head and spinning them around if they were younger.

Behind the army of children came a group of teenagers and adults, some of them probably no more than a few years younger than Bridget was herself, while others were clearly middle-aged or older. They were all orcs, except for a single human woman with curly black hair. It was easy to tell which of the group were blood relatives of Bridget and which were related by marriage, since those orcs all had a strong resemblance.

While all of the adults quickly gathered around the smiling and laughing Bridget, there was one that Jadis noticed standing in the back who did not. He was a tall, old orc who had probably once been a powerfully built man but had lost of a lot of muscle due to age. He had a large bald spot on the top of his head, such that he was more bare scalp than not. The ring of hair that went around the back and sides of his head connected to thick sideburns that linked together in an impressively bushy mustache, but his chin had been left completely bare. The old orc had sun-worn, aged skin and enough wrinkles to conceal a knife in, but his eyes were sharp and he had trained them on Jadis and her group.

The old orc made no move to join the others and instead simply stood back while the younger family members greeted Bridget, his paternal gaze overwatching all.

“Jadis, come here and meet my family!” Bridget waved at her from the middle of the crowd.

When she did so, a lot of the cheerful energy of the crowd dissipated as they turned their focus onto Jadis and the rest of the group. There were curious looks, as well as guarded ones, and Jadis could see that whispers were starting to go back and forth between a lot of the orcs. Some of the children were bravely forcing their way to the fore, trying to get a better look at the strangers in their midst, while a few of the younger ones had taken refuge behind their mothers’ skirts.

“This is going to take a while,” Jay laughed at the sight of the huge family. “Not even sure where we’re going to start.”

“Probably with her parents,” Aila said quietly. “And we better get started now, or we’ll be standing out here until midnight.”

Agreeing with her lover’s assessment, Jadis started forward with all three of her bodies to introduce herself.

Three hours later, long after the sun had set, Jadis felt like she was still struggling to memorize all the names of Bridget’s extended family due to the chaotic nature of their group, but she felt she at least had a good idea of who the closest members were.

“More sausage, my dear?” Bridget’s mother, Gerta, asked as she held a platter up near Jay.

“No, thank you,” Jay rejected the offer with a polite grin. “Five helpings are enough even for me.”

“Are you sure? You’re a thin woman for one so big,” Gerta tutted as she slid a few more sausages onto Jay’s plate, completely ignoring her answer. “You need more meat on your bones! Eat up and stay healthy!”

“Thanks,” Jay laughed, bemused by the assessment. Jadis knew her bodies were trim, but she was also athletically muscular and far from petite, even when taken out of scale. “You’re very sweet to look out for me like that.”

“Don’t worry,” Walton, Bridget’s father, whispered as he leaned towards Jay conspiratorially. “Anything you don’t want, just slip to the dogs. They’ll love you for it.”

Taking the man’s advice, Jay picked a moment where Gerta was distracted by Bridget to toss a few sausages onto the ground where they were quickly snapped up by the trio of shaggy dogs who had been circling the table, hunting for scraps.

Walton and Gerta were both exactly as Jadis had pictured them to be from all of the stories Bridget had told of her family. Walton, an orc in his late forties, was a big man with wide shoulders and a thick middle. He was as tall as Aila’s father, but even broader in build. His dark hair and eyes matched Bridget’s exactly, and he had the same sharp eyebrows which gave him a fierce look even when smiling. Gerta was, while not as tall, almost as thick as her husband was. She had more brownish dark hair and her eyes were yellow, but she had the same shade of green skin as Bridget, as well as the same laugh.

Both of Bridget’s parents were warm and friendly, boisterous even, and had greeted Jadis like family. Most everyone in Clan Warsong had done the same, easily accepting her no doubt in part thanks to the many letters that Bridget had written them. The other part likely came from just how relaxed and cheerful the family was, their demeanors about as far away from reserved as a person could get. There was constant chatter filling the large hall the whole family had gathered in, and the laughter came easily and freely.

After the initial greeting outside, Jadis and everyone else had been quickly ushered inside of the largest farmhouse. An impromptu feast had been arranged as tables were extended and chairs were brought into the biggest house’s main hall to accommodate the extra guests. The space was crowded with the number of Warsongs in it, but in a good way that made Jadis smile. She had, of course, been taken to the head of the table to sit with Bridget and her parents in a place of honor, but Jadis had been sure to set her other two selves in other places around the hall since her lovers were all being mixed in with the rest. While the clan was treating everyone with friendly respect, Jadis wanted to make sure she was close by, just in case any of her lovers needed her support.

Fortunately, the only person who seemed to be difficult to deal with had been sat next to Jay at the head of the table.

“If there are three of you because of a skill, you should turn it off while eating,” Grand Da Morley grumbled sternly. “It’s a waste of good food.”

“It’s a passive skill, Grand Da,” Bridget told her grandfather for what was probably the fourth or fifth time. “She can’t turn it off.”

“Hmph,” Morley grumped loudly. “Three bodies. Ridiculous. What were the gods thinking.”@@novelbin@@

“Well, my patron god is Destarious,” Jay told the elderly man. “I’m pretty sure he gave me the class just because he thought it was funny.”

“Ridiculous,” Morley scowled at her. “Taking on Destarious as a patron. Ridiculous! God of fools. You aren’t a fool, are you?”

“No sir,” Jay replied with a quirk to her lips. “Not since I last checked.”

“Big head like that, there aught to be a brain in there somewhere,” he pointed with a fork at Jay. “Giants. Bloody ridiculous. What next? A quartet of talking goats?”

“Actually, I have a Dryad friend who can transform into a goat,” Jay told the crotchety old man. “So if you’re interested in a talking goat, I can arrange a meeting.”

“Why would I want to talk with a goat?” Morley raised his voice as he scowled even harder at Jay. “And I don’t need some bloody leaf man to come around here and tell me how to farm, either. Keep ‘em away!”

Jay felt a boot kick her leg under the table. Glancing across, she met Bridget’s gaze. Making sure her grandfather couldn’t see, she mouthed the words, “don’t get him riled up” at Jay.

Jadis smiled internally while externally she smoothed out her expression. She couldn’t help but enjoy egging the elderly orc on. He was a grump, but a harmless grump that was more amusing than insulting so far as she was concerned. However, she’d do her best to mind her manners. She did want to keep the good impression everyone had of her so far going. Especially since that good impression was translating over to the rest of Jadis’ companions, including Alex.

While Alex had initially been sandwiched between Syd and Eir to keep a bit of distance between the Demon and the many children in the clan, that dynamic had changed as the meal had progressed. While the young kids were scared of her at first, their curiosity couldn’t be contained. Once the meal had come down to the last servings, Alex had been practically pounced on by a dozen young orcs who were all asking her a variety of questions, some less appropriate than others. Alex was doing a great job at patiently answering them, though, which was doing wonders for the opinions of anxious mothers who were still a little dubious about the idea of a friendly Demon.

Of course, Alex wasn’t the only one getting questions tossed at her, appropriate and otherwise.

“Now, are you really all… together?" Gerta asked as she sat back down in her seat on Bridget’s left, which put her across from her husband just as Bridget was across from Jay. “I mean, I’m not judging you, my love, but that seems like quite a lot, doesn’t it? Ten of you?”

“Ma, we make it work,” Bridget said as her checks blushed a darker green. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worrying,” Gerta said as she patted her daughter’s shoulder. “But I’m just showin’ my motherly concerns. When you have a babe or two of your own, you’ll understand.”

When Jay raised an eyebrow at that statement, Bridget shot her a look that practically screamed for her not to say anything.

Jadis hadn’t realized before that moment that Bridget hadn’t yet told her parents that she was pregnant. She supposed that it was the kind of news that was best said in person, rather than in a letter, but still. Jay kept silent, respecting her lover’s wishes, though she made a mental note to bring it up as soon as they were somewhere more private.

“It’s because of that therion, isn’t it?” Morley accused with a thick finger pointed in Kerr’s direction. “They all do that har-reem thing, don’t they?”

Fortunately, said therion was distracted by her conversation with Darcy, the lone human woman in the clan who was the wife of one of Bridget’s older cousins. If she had seen the old man’s pointing finger, Jadis had no doubt that an incident of some kind would have occurred.

“Put your finger down, Da,” Walton told his father. “You’re being a bad host acting like that.”

“Ridiculous,” the old orc grumped again. “Who needs that many wives? One is enough of a headache.”

“Well, I’m a giant,” Jay mused as she tried to keep a straight face. “So one wife really isn’t enough for me. They’re so much smaller than me, right? Plus, there’s three of me, so that’s even more giant. That means I need a lot of wives just to make up for how much of me there is.”

Morley blinked owlishly at her, clearly trying to decide if she was joking or not. Eventually he huffed out a sharp breath as he settled back in chair and looked away from her.

“Ridiculous…”

 “I think it’s bizarre,” a young man’s voice said. “But in a good way, I guess? You know, if it works, it works. Maybe I should keep an eye out for a couple of wives, too!”

Jay turned her attention on the young man sitting on the opposite side of Gerta, Bridget’s brother Alban. He was sixteen and already mostly grown. A few inches taller than Bridget, Alban had the same features and dark hair as the rest of his family but had heterochromia, turning one eye a bright white color while the other was the orange-flecked black of his father and sisters. He had a strong build, the kind that lanky muscle that spoke of someone used to hard labor. He hadn’t yet unlocked his primary class but would when he turned seventeen in four months.

“Focus on finding one, you little wart,” Bridget told her brother. “If you can even handle that much.”

“Oy! Who are you calling a little wart? You’re shorter than me now!”

“Fine, you’re a big wart.”

“Bloody right I’m a big wart,” Alban said with a roguish grin. “Nothing little about me anymore at all, lamp lighter.”

“That includes your ego, does it?”

“Settle down you two,” Gerta told her children. “If you’re going to stir up trouble, you can go do it outside while we eat dessert.”

That got both Bridget and Alban to quiet their bickering, though Jay stifled a laugh when the two siblings stuck out their tongues at each other while their mother wasn’t looking.

“Go get the puddings,” Grand Da Morley said as he motioned with one hand towards Gerta. “So we can get the eating over with. Then, I want to hear all about how you’ve dragged us into this trouble with the countess across the river.”

The latter was directed at Jay, who gave the old orc a questioning look.

“I have ears,” he said when she turned her gaze onto him. “And a brain between them. You think I don’t? My girl Bridget gets herself tangled up with Nephilim and Seraphim and Demons and worse yet, nobles, and now we’ve got land disputes falling on our heads. Ha! Ridiculous load of bloody nonsense. You eat your pudding and then you explain to me what trouble you’ve brought down on Clan Warsong. Then you tell me what you’re going to do to fix it.”

“Yes sir,” Jay nodded at the man, taken off guard by his unexpected acuity. “I’ll do just that, so long as you tell me everything you know about what’s happened so far around here.”

“Fine,” Morley snorted, the force of which caused his mustache to ruffle. “Best we get this over with before the spring crop comes in. Ridiculous… Now where’s my bloody pudding?”

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