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Authors: Jw Schnarr
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would ever endure.
He knew even before the command came what they would be asked to do. And even as his heart sank at the thought, he found his strong hands wrapped around the axe handle, ready to obey.
Then the command came from behind them.
“ Level it. Leave no one alive. ”
There was only a moment’s hesitation before the forest was alive with the clinking of eight hundred Tin Woodsmen tearing into the clearing, the makeshift armor of their bodies shining dully in the sunlight that crept through the treetops. They entered the clearing with their axes raised. The first blows had fallen before the Woodkin people could fully grasp what was happening.
Nick remembered very little of the event. He had swung his axe in a blind frenzy at anything that moved. His head and dwindling heart had been very aware of the hollow sounds of skulls crunching under his feet and blood splattering against his chest and arms. The Woodkins had only rocks, crude clubs and spears to defend themselves with and they fought with little enthusiasm; they knew the battle had been lost before it had even begun.
The battled ended rather quickly. The forest had been filled with the childlike squealing of the Woodkin people as they were massacred. But even those horrendous sounds had been so brief that it had scarcely disturbed the birds and other woodland creatures nearby.
There were exactly eight hundred and six Tin Woodsmen that surged into the Woodkin camp that day. The Woodkin population, they found after the melee was over, had been only one hundred and thirty.
Once the camp had been cleared, construction on the Yellow Brick Road continued. As they made progress, they buried the tiny bodies of the Woodkin people in shallow holes that were then covered by shining bricks of gold.
Several months later, the Tin Woodsman that had once been a man by the name of Nick Chopper woke up screaming. The Tin Men were allowed three hours of rest per day and ever since pillaging the Woodkin camp, those daily three hours had been haunting ones for Nick. He screamed into the night, the sound of his voice from his tin throat like that of a wounded mechanical monster.
Others stirred beside him but said nothing. From elsewhere within the campsite, one of the Emerald City men barked, “Back to sleep, you!”
But even when he was awake and at work, Nick’s mind would wander. When he swung his axe into a tree trunk it felt like he was hacking into flesh, spilling blood and pulverizing the bones of the Woodkin people. His work began to suffer and he became far less efficient. It didn’t take long before those from Emerald City took notice.
One day, as the army of Tin Woodsmen neared the thicker regions of forest to the west of Munchkinland, several of the Woodsmen had been rounded up and asked to step aboard a peculiar looking carriage. A robed man in a mask sat at the helm of the carriage, hidden by the large flanks of four white horses. He eyed the group of Tin Woodsmen as they stepped aboard but said nothing. Nick had met the man’s gaze as he and his co-workers boarded the carriage and he knew from that single glance that there was trouble ahead.
Along with eight Tin Woodsmen, a single human also boarded the carriage. As the horses pulled them back towards Emerald City on the very road they had helped build, the man held out a crystal ball that glowed a pink light into the carriage cabin.
“ Think of yourselves as privileged,” the man explained. Nick stared at that pink hue along the surface of the crystal ball and knew right away that this man was a sorcerer. He had never seen this man in the ranks of the work crew, but his demeanor alone spoke volumes. He appeared to be a high ranking official in Emerald City—perhaps even the Wizard’s own personal magician.
“ You see, not only have all of you taken part in the building of this amazing road,” the magician went on, “but now, as we return you to Emerald City, you are also the very first
He knew even before the command came what they would be asked to do. And even as his heart sank at the thought, he found his strong hands wrapped around the axe handle, ready to obey.
Then the command came from behind them.
“ Level it. Leave no one alive. ”
There was only a moment’s hesitation before the forest was alive with the clinking of eight hundred Tin Woodsmen tearing into the clearing, the makeshift armor of their bodies shining dully in the sunlight that crept through the treetops. They entered the clearing with their axes raised. The first blows had fallen before the Woodkin people could fully grasp what was happening.
Nick remembered very little of the event. He had swung his axe in a blind frenzy at anything that moved. His head and dwindling heart had been very aware of the hollow sounds of skulls crunching under his feet and blood splattering against his chest and arms. The Woodkins had only rocks, crude clubs and spears to defend themselves with and they fought with little enthusiasm; they knew the battle had been lost before it had even begun.
The battled ended rather quickly. The forest had been filled with the childlike squealing of the Woodkin people as they were massacred. But even those horrendous sounds had been so brief that it had scarcely disturbed the birds and other woodland creatures nearby.
There were exactly eight hundred and six Tin Woodsmen that surged into the Woodkin camp that day. The Woodkin population, they found after the melee was over, had been only one hundred and thirty.
Once the camp had been cleared, construction on the Yellow Brick Road continued. As they made progress, they buried the tiny bodies of the Woodkin people in shallow holes that were then covered by shining bricks of gold.
Several months later, the Tin Woodsman that had once been a man by the name of Nick Chopper woke up screaming. The Tin Men were allowed three hours of rest per day and ever since pillaging the Woodkin camp, those daily three hours had been haunting ones for Nick. He screamed into the night, the sound of his voice from his tin throat like that of a wounded mechanical monster.
Others stirred beside him but said nothing. From elsewhere within the campsite, one of the Emerald City men barked, “Back to sleep, you!”
But even when he was awake and at work, Nick’s mind would wander. When he swung his axe into a tree trunk it felt like he was hacking into flesh, spilling blood and pulverizing the bones of the Woodkin people. His work began to suffer and he became far less efficient. It didn’t take long before those from Emerald City took notice.
One day, as the army of Tin Woodsmen neared the thicker regions of forest to the west of Munchkinland, several of the Woodsmen had been rounded up and asked to step aboard a peculiar looking carriage. A robed man in a mask sat at the helm of the carriage, hidden by the large flanks of four white horses. He eyed the group of Tin Woodsmen as they stepped aboard but said nothing. Nick had met the man’s gaze as he and his co-workers boarded the carriage and he knew from that single glance that there was trouble ahead.
Along with eight Tin Woodsmen, a single human also boarded the carriage. As the horses pulled them back towards Emerald City on the very road they had helped build, the man held out a crystal ball that glowed a pink light into the carriage cabin.
“ Think of yourselves as privileged,” the man explained. Nick stared at that pink hue along the surface of the crystal ball and knew right away that this man was a sorcerer. He had never seen this man in the ranks of the work crew, but his demeanor alone spoke volumes. He appeared to be a high ranking official in Emerald City—perhaps even the Wizard’s own personal magician.
“ You see, not only have all of you taken part in the building of this amazing road,” the magician went on, “but now, as we return you to Emerald City, you are also the very first
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