Castle of the Noobs

Noobtown Book Three

Ryan Rimmel

Copyright © 2020 Ryan Rimmel

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by: Alexandre  Rito

To my lovely wife, Ser Bear, who spent Valentine's Day wrapping up my latest adventure.

Thanks to everyone at Podium Publishing.  Special thanks to Alexandre Rito for providing cover art for book 3.  Special thanks to Victoria and Emily, and to my narrator, Johnathan McClain.  

Thanks to my friends and fellow adventurers who listen to me talk about books way to offten.  Thanks to Ben H and Sarah R for being honest and forthright about the qualtiy of my first draft and their suggestions on how to improve it.  

If you find any errors in this book, or just want to chat, contact me at ryan.rimmel@gmail.com.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter 1: An Ordinary Day

Chapter 2:  Three Hours Later

Chapter 3: Return to Narwal

Chapter 4: The Lord of Narwal

Chapter 5: Bashara’s Best Friend

Chapter 5.5: Narwal’s Finest

Chapter 6: The Foundry

Chapter 7: An Ambush at the Gate

Chapter 8: A Friendly Conversation

Chapter 9: A Knife in the Woods

Chapter 10: A New Hope

Chapter 11: One Grandma Later

Chapter 12: Bandits in the Forest

Chapter 13: Wargs in the Woods

Chapter 14: A Tasteful Funeral

Chapter 15: Town Hall with Friends

Chapter 16: A Fun Conversation with Mar

Chapter 17: The Sawmill

Chapter 18: A New Era

Chapter 19: Dalton’s Wards

Chapter 20: One Week Later

Chapter 21: The Boat

Chapter 22: Morning Showers

Chapter 23: Mayoring

Chapter 24: Magical Doodads

Chapter 25: Learning a New Skill

Chapter 26: The Ringbearer

Chapter 27: Trust Issues

Chapter 28: Sparking Jarra

Chapter 29: Because I’m the Mayor

Chapter 30: Anything Worth Doing

Chapter 31: Plunging into Dark Holes

Chapter 32: A Concerned Former Resident

Chapter 33: Cursebreaking

Chapter 34: There Aren’t Enough Showers

Chapter 35: Golden Badger

Chapter 36: Laser Vision

Chapter 37: Journey to the Castle

Chapter 38: Windfall Castle

Chapter 39: One Dead Troll

Chapter 40: Secrets Exposed

Chapter 41: Dungeons and Ducks

Chapter 42: Goblin’s Plans

Chapter 43: Western Gate Fortress

Chapter 44: Bashara’s Uneventful Visit

Chapter 45: The Ire of Mar

Chapter 46: Improv Time

Chapter 47: The Army of Windfall

Chapter 48: Home Sweet Home

Chapter 49: Jim’s New Cook

Chapter 50: Consolidated Sadness

Chapter 51: A Friendly Sparring Match

Chapter 52: Windfall gets a new Merchant

Chapter 53: The War for Windfall

Chapter 54: Clever Subterfuge

Chapter 55: Check out Jim’s Package

Chapter 56: Burning Sensation

Chapter 57: Lumberjack’s Battle

Chapter 58: It Took Two Strong Men

Chapter 59: Why Wait?

Chapter 60: Dalton in Command

Chapter 61: A Pleasant Creek

Chapter 62: The All the Goblin Heroes

Chapter 63: Aftermath

Chapter 64: Epilogue

Chapter 1: An Ordinary Day

“Bye, Daddy!  Bye, I love you,” EveSophia called.  The little girl was frantically waving at her father as the caravan left Windfall’s gates.  JoeClarence was far more solemn as he stood between her and their mother, AvaSophia.

Well, it looks like I’m the man of the house now,” the boy, only a couple of years older than his sister, informed everyone.

EveSophia spun around to face him, hands on her hips.  It was an action I had seen her mother do on more than one occasion.  “Who says we need a man of the house?  What do you think that you can do better than Mom?”  She promptly stuck her tongue out at him. 

I scanned the crowd that had come to wave the caravan off.  Nearly the whole town had turned out for this historic event.  The only people seemingly missing were some of the ThooClicky refugees.  Perhaps they didn’t comprehend the meaning of this trade mission.  After all, they had only been in Windfall for four days.  They didn’t understand our economic struggles of a week ago. 

“Or maybe they aren’t idiotic enough to come wave at wagons full of iron,” Shart suggested.

“Hey, there,” replied Badgelor, as he stretched out languidly on a large paving stone near my feet.  The warmth of the early morning sun delighted the small badger almost as much as the far warmer midday sun.  “These are humans, and they have strange ideas of what qualifies as a fun activity.  We should just be thankful they aren’t nearly as odd as Earth humans.”

Shart poofed out of existence.  He reappeared moments later next to Badgelor, facing the caravan. “Bye, dumbasses!  Bye, I hope you die on your trip!”  He then flipped off the caravan with both hands.

Badgelor flicked out his claws and broke off a small chunk of rock from his perch.  He promptly sent it flying toward the demon, who took the hit to the back of his neck in stride.  Shart turned around to face the badger and belched.  I swear you could see the nearby vegetation smolder from the terrible stench.  Badgelor responded by growling slightly.

As her father continued to wave to her in the distance, EveSophia rounded on Badgelor and cried out, “You stinky badger!  You just farted!”

The crowd nearby began to part as Badgelor realized his dignity was being called into question. He suddenly jumped to his feet.  “No, you wee girl!  It was Jim’s stupid demon, Shart, who, by the way, has no sense of humor whatsoever.  He was making fun of you.  I was defending your honor!”

Unfortunately, Badgelor only spoke Badger.  No one else spoke the animal’s language.  So, what everyone heard was a series of growls and grunts being directed toward a young child from an agitated badger.  AvaSophia gave me the stink eye like it was her profession.  I miss my wife. 

“Badgelor, can it,” I stated, grabbing the flustered badger and plopping him on my shoulder.  EveSophia stuck her tongue out at him and then went to stand next to her mother.  I glanced at JoeClarence, who just shrugged.  I wondered if he still had that knife I’d given him some time back.  He was a brave little boy, and very smart, it appeared.

I took one last look at the members of the caravan, before they disappeared into the distance.  Most were from the original group of refugees that I had rescued.  There were only a couple from the more recently arrived groups.  I could still clearly make out MartyBart.  He was nearly seven feet tall and as thin as a broomstick.  I had only spoken to him twice and both times had been brief.  After each encounter, I was left with the distinct impression that he was the oddball of the ThooClicky group.

“Stop it, Butt Munch,” I said, as the demon danced around people in a manner that continuously displayed his bulbous, shiny ass.  Shart poofed away and reappeared on my shoulder, his face scrunched up at the insult.  That happened sometimes, normally when I used one of Earth’s insults from days of yore.

The caravan consisted of five full wagons being pulled by oxen.  There were ten militia responsible for protecting the carts and the animals.  In addition, there were ten more men responsible for guarding our resources' protectors.  These guards included Fenris.  He served as the captain of the town militia, and I also considered him my friend.  I hadn’t been too particular on who was allowed to go, so there were 22 other people going for a variety of reasons, from personal trade to sightseeing.  That brought the total traveling in the caravan to 42, and I’m sure Fenris knew each one by sight now.  

Zorlando, the leader of the mercenary band, watched as they left.  Originally, I had intended on using the mercs to protect the caravan, but I changed my mind at the last minute.  Most of the pumas had been killed off, making Durg the greater threat to Windfall.  Thus, it made more sense to keep the mercenaries in town.  Zorlando walked over to me, pressing his forefinger and thumb down his mustachio, ensuring its proper placement above his lip.

“Again, I thank you, Mr. Mayor, for allowing us the privilege, no, honor, of defending Windfall,” he stated.  He followed this intense pronouncement with a deep bow, his cape flapping in the breeze.

“We are happy that you decided to stay,” I responded, watching the cape fluttering.  It was a good thing Zorlando was a hearty man; otherwise, he would have been picked up and carried away.  Oddly, I didn’t feel any wind on my face.  It was yet another strange occurrence that I had stopped trying to analyze.  New world, new Jim. 

As the wagons disappeared, my thoughts turned to breakfast.  There was only one thing stopping me from going in search of a meal.  Instead of dispersing, the crowd turned to look at me.  I, in turn, stared at them.

“Dum Dum, say something,” Shart whispered.

I cleared my throat, realizing just how tired I felt.  I had suffered some hard times since I’d arrived on Ordinal. “Um, thank you all for your support for our first trade mission.  I’m sure the convoy appreciated your presence on this important day.  Establishing a trade route is a momentous step in us becoming a fully recognized town.  Good day to you all.”

“Wow, that stank,” Shart said, as the group finally began breaking up.  “That stank more than the decomposing goblins surrounding this crappy town.”

“Mmmmmm,” hummed Badgelor, “I could go for some decomposing goblins.  They should be just about ripe by now.”  Badgelor was licking his lips and rubbing his tummy.  It was horrifying.  More horrifying were the smacking sounds he was making right next to my head.  I wasn’t totally positive that the chills down my spine were from his breath being blown into my ear. They could just as easily have been caused by the knowledge that I had chosen a little fluffy psycho as my animal companion. 

“Breakfast does sound like a good idea,” I replied.  Badgelor perked up.  “Not dead goblins, though.”  Badgelor’s look immediately changed to disappointment, but only slightly.  Food was food, after all.

“If I were you,” suggested Shart, “I wouldn’t hit up AvaSophia for a meal.  She looks fairly displeased with you again.”

“That stupid dame is always displeased,” grumbled the badger.

I headed toward the beach.  It wouldn’t take long to catch a meal in the fully stocked waters off our coast.  I was looking forward to a quiet day of fishing and napping.  The Puma gang was gone, the pumas were mostly gone, and our traders would enjoy a simple, quick journey to Narwal.  It was a sunny, peaceful day.  Maybe everything would settle down now. 

Chapter 2:  Three Hours Later

“MAYOR!”

I snorted awake in my hammock, the hammock that had taken me the better part of 15 minutes to get comfortable in.  Hm.  That was odd.  I thought I heard my name.  I listened intently.  It had sounded far away.  Perhaps, I had simply dreamed…

“MR. MAYOR!”

Nope, not a dream.

I stood, the serenity of my surroundings and the peace of my post breakfast nap broken by the sound of frantic running.  Again, a voice shouted, “MAYOR.”

“I’m here,” I called as I attempted to get out of the hammock.  What actually happened next started with me partially flopping out of the hammock and landing face first in the dirt with my legs still firmly wrapped in the wretched thing.  After a moment, I finally managed to slide out of the horrible trap and birth myself onto the ground in a loud thud.  I stood up blowing sand out of my left nostril. 
Relaxing my ass.       

The running was now coming straight towards me.  MartyBart emerged from the trees, narrowly avoiding a tree limb to the face.

“Would you look at this gangly fecker?” Badgelor grumbled, annoyed that his nap was likewise ruined. 

“Mr. Mayor, there you are!” the lanky young man gasped, as his long legs brought him barreling toward me.  “You’ve got to come!”

“What’s going on?” I asked.  In response, MartyBart stood in front of me, pointing and gasping.  I grabbed my sword and adjusted my leather armor. The leather was comfortable enough to sleep in, if you were tired enough. God was I tired.  MartyBart continued his harsh breathing, but he was already trying to direct me away from my tranquil surroundings.  MartyBart’s lengthy legs made him an excellent runner, but his thin frame really didn’t give him the endurance you needed for the long haul.  I wondered just how long he had been running.

“The caravan!” he finally croaked.  “There were some scruffy people that we ran into on the road.  Mr. Fenris went to talk to them, and they came to blows, Sir.  I was at the back of the line, helping one of the drivers.  He told me to run back and get you.”

“Find SueLeeta.  Tell her what’s happening,” I yelled, heading for the road.  MartyBart’s shoulders slumped as he prepared to run off for another round of hide and seek. 

As I passed Badgelor’s special beach rock, I grabbed the critter by the neck.  Badgelor let out an undignified squawk, before climbing up my arm and onto my shoulder.  I could feel his claws sink into the padding of my armor a bit more than necessary; it made me glad that my skin was extremely tough on Ordinal. 

I spent the first part of my travel time analyzing. The caravan couldn’t have been gone for more than three or four hours.  I could run at incredible speeds, but I didn’t know how far away the caravan was meaning I had to pace myself.  Showing up to assist Fenris made no sense if I was too exhausted to fight.  Fortunately, I had Hiking.  It was, oddly enough, my greatest and most useful skill.  It allowed me to adjust my pace appropriately.  It kept me moving at a high rate, but not so high that it drained my Stamina. 

As I plowed forward, I began examining the road.  There were a number of footprints that I didn’t recognize, as well as wagon tracks and animal prints.  At the speed I was going, it took me a moment to realize what was unusual about some of the footprints.  It was the shoes.  Every cobbler made shoes differently.  Some used patterns on the bottoms of the shoes.  Some engraved or stamped their initials.  The ones on the road were in a different style than I’d ever seen before.

“Shart, how much further?” I called out.  I knew that they hadn’t made it to the Western Gate Fortress.  I would have seen it in my logs.  It took about three hours to walk between the town and the Western Gate fortress.  Wagons were slightly slower than walking and tended to take about three and a half hours.  Given the time when MartyBart returned to me, I should be reaching the caravan at any moment.  All in all, I’d managed, in thirty minutes, to run the distance they’d covered in two hours. 

“Just around that bend,” stated Shart, as his little hands weaved a bit in front of him.  “You might want to hurry.  Fenris’ Health bar just dropped.”  I wondered how Shart could tell that from here.  I also wondered how many more freaky unknown powers the little, red shit stain was hiding.

I had gotten over the rise some time back and was now rushing through the forest.  My Explorer’s nose caught several scents from the nearby woods that I absolutely didn’t have time to run down now, as well as the acidic smell coming from the cave just north of the road.  I was distracted from my smelly thoughts when I heard the sound of bone on flesh in the distance.  My heart fell.  I ran faster, a group of people finally coming into view.

Fenris was there, along with a strange man.  They were surrounded by many more strangers, along with the Windfall caravan.  Both men were circling each other.  As I watched, the squat, broad-shouldered man headbutted Fenris so hard that the Woodsman stumbled backward.  It took several paces for him to stabilize and catch his breath.  I instantly had my blade at the ready, before the cheering could reach my ears.  The Windfallians were urging Fenris back up to his opponent. 

“What is going on?” I asked lamely, as I slowed.  I recognized immediately that I was the only one holding a weapon.  I quickly sheathed my sword, glancing around in befuddlement.

“It's a Duel!  Ooh, someone might get hurt.  Let’s go see,” cheered Badgelor.  He leapt off my shoulder and ran into the crowd. 

“Duel to the death?” I asked.

Shart looked at me like I was a speck of dung, “No, there would be a solid invisible barrier for duels to the death.  You see that floating crossed blades icon over the battle?  They are fighting a non-lethal duel.  The <system> won’t let either of them die from wounds caused by the other.”

That part of Ordinal took some serious getting used to.  Events like duels operated under entirely different rules than everyday existence.   I shouldered my way through the crowd.  As I closed in on the fighting pair, I saw not only a pair of crossed swords over the battlefield, but a clear circle marked in the dirt as well. 

“The Circle of Battle,” Shart said, nodding sagely. 

Fenris was squaring off against the strange man.  I could clearly see his name, Glorious Robert.  Glorious Robert was built like a fireplug.  His waist was about as wide as his shoulders.  If he hadn’t been one giant ball of muscle, he would have almost looked silly.  His skin was also considerably darker than anyone else’s that I’d seen on Ordinal.

I was white, though far less pale than I’d been on Earth.  Most of the people I’d met here ranged from paler than me, such as Jarra, to much more tanned, like SueLeeta.  I suspected that SueLeeta had some serious tan lines when her armor was off. 

Glorious Robert was what a small-town guy from Ohio would have called African American, though that made no sense on Ordinal.  There was no Africa or America.  He staggered backward as Fenris returned a powerful headbutt, sending the fireplug stumbling backward a few paces.  He turned and spat blood.

“Wicked pissa,” called out Glorious Robert.  “You’re soft for challenging me!”

“He sounds like he’s from Boston,” I quipped.

With that, Glorious Robert lined up his forehead and smashed Fenris to the ground.  It was the most brutal headbutt I’d ever seen in my life.  Fenris shook his head for a moment, before getting back to his feet.  The circle suddenly went green as the Woodsman puked bloody breakfast remnants.

A woman walked into the circle and both men stumbled over to their respective groups.  Fenris was speaking with OttoSherman, so I headed over that way.  Badgelor beat me to them and became intensely invested in cleaning vomit from Fenris’ face.  I nearly gagged but carried on in their direction.

“I think you might have a chance,” stated OttoSherman.  “He looks tough, and you’ve never beat him before, but maybe this time?”

“Great speech,” replied Fenris dryly.

“You are doomed.  I just watched you get your ass kicked,” growled Badgelor.

Fenris looked at the little badger and then up to me.  He gasped, slurring slightly.  I noticed his pupils were larger than normal and not aligned.  “Jim!  What are you doing here?  Have you come to enjoy the entertainment?”  Returning his eyes to Badgelor, he asked, “Truly, you believe that I can kick his ass?”

Fenris was the only other person in town, besides me, that spoke the highly refined and complex language of Badger.  To say that Fenris didn’t understand Badger well was an understatement.  Adding in the head trauma that he must certainly be suffering from, and it was a lost cause. 

“No, he’s going to stomp you, you daft bugger,” growled Badgelor.

“Yes, I’ll stomp him like a bug!” grinned Fenris, reaching into his pouch and pulling out a small length of jerky, “That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him.  I just stood there as Fenris stuffed part of the jerky in his own mouth and offered the rest to Badgelor.  The ring began flashing and everyone cleared out of the circle.  Moments later, the ring went dark red again, and the two men began bashing into each other, skull first.

“Can you please explain what’s going on?” I asked OttoSherman. 

“Oh, that’s Glorious Robert.  He and Fenris are old friends,” stated OttoSherman as he straightened to his full height, towering over me.  Glorious Robert slammed his skull into Fenris hard enough to knock him off his feet again.

“And they are headbutting each other?” I continued.

“That’s a traditional matchup between the men of Glorious Robert’s hometown.  It shows their respect for long-time friends,” replied OttoSherman.  His tone implied that he believed he was speaking to a child.

“Where would someone have such a barbaric custom?” I questioned.

“Glorious Robert is from Basstown,” replied OttoSherman with a hint of a Glorious Robert’s accent.

“Boston,” I said.

“Ya, Basstown,” replied OttoSherman in an even thicker accent. 

“Really,” I said.  In actuality, I had no idea what that meant, but OttoSherman had said it with such conviction that it must be true.  I glanced at both men’s Health and Stamina bars.  Each hit was doing damage to both, but Stamina was taking the brunt of it.  If someone got to zero Stamina, they would collapse.

“Funny thing about Basstown,” OttoSherman said, “there aren’t any bass in the waters.  You can fish all day and catch all sorts of marine critters, but you will never, ever catch a bass.” 

“I take it there is betting on this event?” I said, turning my attention back to the ring.  Both men were circling and winding up.  More often than not, the other man would get out of position before a headbutt could land.  It was sort of like boxing, except for the head trauma.

Oh, no, wait.  It was exactly like boxing. 

“Yes, I’ve got ten silver on Glorious Robert,” replied OttoSherman.

“You are Fenris’ cornerman,” I said aghast.  “You should be rooting for Fenris.”

“Half of the bet is from Fenris,” replied OttoSherman.  “Glorious Robert has the hardest head I’ve ever heard of.”

With one more mighty thwack, I heard it too.  Fenris was knocked back all the way out of the ring.  The moment his foot stepped outside the circle, the ring vanished.  The Hit Point damage began healing at an accelerated rate, while the Stamina damage recovered normally. 

“You heal faster from injuries taken during a duel?” I asked Shart.

“Duh, Dum Dum.  A duel is a gentlemanly sport.  If you just wanted to kill each other, you don’t need to fight a duel,” replied the demon.  Ordinal was weird.  On Earth, a sprained ankle from a practice bout or a real contest was still the same injury.  Here, not so much. 

I grabbed Fenris by the arm and pulled him to his feet.  He was grinning, and I feared, for a moment, that he had suffered real brain damage.  Of course, the <system> wouldn’t allow that.   “You okay?”

“Of course!  I almost had him,” exclaimed the normally dour man.  Even the slightest grin was enough for me to reevaluate my opinion of him. 

Glorious Robert basked in the cheers of the crowd for a moment.  He then walked over to Fenris, and the two men clasped wrists.  Up close and not headbutting anyone, Glorious Robert was even shorter than he’d first appeared.  He was still larger around than Fenris by a wide margin. 

I did a quick Lore check and discovered that he was an 11th level Man-at-Arms.  I filed that away and waited for Fenris and him to finish doing whatever it was they were doing.  It appeared to be some sort of bizarre handshake that also involved removing each other’s shoes.

“Who’s your friend?” I said, after it looked like they were finished.

“He is Glorious Robert.  I’ve known him for years.  I went to Basstown for Warden training,” replied Fenris.

“You know what they say, Basstown is an Academy town with a pier,” chuckled Glorious Robert.

I looked over at Glorious Robert.  He glanced at me dismissively and then over to OttoSherman.  To be so easily dismissed kind of stung.  I was more or less used to being everyone’s focus all the time.  I guess we aren’t the main character in everyone else’s stories.  I cleared my throat, “Ahem.”

“And who might you be?” asked Glorious Robert, turning back to face me.  He glanced above my head, to my nametag.  Then... he started to laugh.  He didn’t just burst out in uproarious laughter, though.  It started as a quiet chuckle that grew to a guffaw, before crescendoing into an outrageous, cough-inducing fit of hysteria.  Several other groups of these Basstown strangers looked my way.  They, too, started laughing.  You see, “Jim” was Ordinal’s functional equivalent of naming a pet “Spot” on Earth.  I had gotten used to snide remarks at my name, but this outright derisive group laughter was new. 

“Nice name, ya skeezer,” hooted Glorious Robert.  His Basstown accent was becoming more prominent as he laughed.  Most of the new people were all like that.  They didn’t notice the Windfallians looking more and more apprehensive as I got redder and redder. 

I inhaled sharply.  “Well, this is happening.”

●                    Would you like to challenge Glorious Robert to a duel, headbutts only?  <Yes/No>

I selected “Yes.”

Glorious Robert looked up at me and laughed some more.  It took him a good thirty seconds to recover, before waving his hand and selecting “No.”  I challenged him again. 

“Wanna go?  Look, ya frickin’ skrod, I just beat the toughest guy here.  I don’t think a soft townie like you understands what he’s dealing with,” chuckled Glorious Robert. 

I looked to the members of the caravan.  “You want to tell him, or should I?” I asked coldly.

●                    Intimidate vs Glorious Robert.  Your check has been partially successful.  Glorious Robert is uneasy for the next 12 seconds.

Glorious Robert eyed me seriously for the first time.  He noticed the leather armor I was wearing and the badger that was growling by my leg.  Mainly, he noticed that Fenris hadn’t said a word to me.  There were no phrases like ‘You don’t stand a chance.’ or ‘He’ll kill you.” forthcoming.  Instead, Fenris was using his Lore skill on both of us. 

“Where did you come from?” Glorious Robert asked.

“The town.  I ran here when I was told there was trouble,” I replied coolly. 

Fenris finished comparing his notes and shrugged, “I got ten silver on the mayor.”

“That’s the mayor?” stated Glorious Robert incredulously.  He shook his head as if to clear it and looked back at me.  He was about to say something else when a woman rushed over and separated the two of us.

“Excuse us, Mr. Mayor,” she stated sweetly, “I’m sorry about the misunderstanding.  I’m sure my foolish husband didn’t mean anything by it.  We need to be in your good graces to get into Windfall.”

Whatever Glorious Robert had been intending to say was lost.  His wife’s words had an instant effect, as he got his laughter in check.  “Up, yessir, I’m wicked sorry about the misunderstanding.  Jim’s a great name!”

I frowned but didn’t resend the duel.  Turning to look at the woman, I first saw her name.  She was called Splendid Gloria, and she was a nice sight to behold.  She was tall, with a long neck, high cheekbones, and very pale skin.  She was dressed like a fishwife, and Lore verified that that’s exactly what she was. 

“Refugees?” I questioned, watching her.  She nodded silently, a definite flare of hope in her eyes.  “Refugees are always welcome in Windfall, as long as they pull their weight.”

“I can do that, Sir,” stated Glorious Robert “Greatest fisherman on the northern coasts, I am.”

“What happened to Basstown?” I asked, fearing the answer.

“HarCharles’ siege was finally successful,” stated Splendid Gloria.  Her lip quivered momentarily; however, her voice remained strong.  “His army broke through the wall and took the city.  We tried to sail away, but his fleet was waiting there.  They crippled our boat.”

“Woman, that fine ship got us away from the army, even though she’d been gutted,” replied Glorious Robert.  “I’ll not hear you talk ill of her.”

Splendid Gloria looked ashamed for a moment and nodded.  The look vanished when she began speaking again, “We landed and raced through the Fens until we got onto the northern road.  I knew of an old route that we could manage but would give an army fits.  They are probably still in Basstown looting everything.” 

“How long have you been traveling?” I asked.

“About a week now,” she replied, suddenly looking exhausted.  “We skirted the big garrison that TimSimons set up at the canyon.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very effective bottleneck, if you can just skirt it,” I said.  I really needed to ask Blots for a proper map of the area.

“There are many more paths available to a small group of refugees than to an army,” she replied. 

There was a sudden commotion behind me, and SueLeeta exploded out of the trees.  She rushed into the camp wheezing.  I glanced at her, noting that her Stamina was mostly depleted. “You jerk!  You could have waited,” she huffed. 

“SueLeeta,” stated Glorious Robert.  He grinned for an instant, before smoothing his face.  He guiltily eyed his wife.  She, too, had smiled for a moment before her face went smooth.  She guiltily eyed her husband.

Seriously?

“Glorious Robert,” SueLeeta smiled, before spotting Splendid Gloria, “And you.”

“And me,” Splendid Gloria responded, causing SueLeeta to avert her gaze and step back a pace.  “I should have known wherever OttoSherman went, you would follow.”

“We aren’t like that anymore,” harrumphed SueLeeta.  I glanced around for OttoSherman, but he had upped and vanished in a display of skill worthy of a Rogue. 

“This is getting good,” stated Shart, settling down further on my shoulder.

“You have my permission to settle in the town,” I stated.  Going into the town menu, I allowed everyone here the privilege of settling in Windfall.  Normally, I had Mar do this type of bookkeeping now, but I was already here.  I glanced at the available housing and flinched.  We had reprioritized repairing other structures, but it looked like we’d quickly be returning to home repair. 

Glorious Robert wasted no time.  He moved to gather up his people and belongings for the rest of the march.  There were at least 30 of them, all fishermen or other fish related job holders.  They would be next to useless in our agricultural community.  Or would they?  We do have access to a fair amount of water.

I opened the town menu again and found a town mission for building a fishing boat.  I reviewed the menus constantly.  I knew this mission had not been listed the last time I checked.  Every menu on Ordinal seemed contextual, meaning that someone here could build a fishing boat.  Selecting it, I received a prompt.

●                    Your town has begun the mission “Build a Fishing Boat.”

●                    Glorious Robert is a Journeyman Fisherman and can build fishing boats.  As a resident of your village, he has accepted the quest “Build a Fishing Boat.”

Glorious Robert turned to me and smiled widely.  “It’ll be a big’un!  Greatest fishing boat on the Wind Swept coast, I’m tellin’ ya!”

The remainder of the former refugees cheered at that.  I had no idea what they would need to build a fishing boat, but I wagered we wouldn’t have it readily available.  We were taking iron to Narwal to buy the final few supplies necessary to get the sawmill back in operation.  Until then, they would have to plane the boards by hand, which was back breaking work.

Just what the hell is a skeezer anyway?

I saw Glorious Robert and Fenris speaking briefly.  Then, they clasped elbows again, and Fenris walked back to the caravan.  Fenris had returned to his stoic self as he gathered up the group to head to Narwal.  Anyone else would have missed it, but I recognized that expression instantly.

“Hey, I’m afraid the refugees will get lost.  Do you want to escort them to Windfall?” I asked Fenris.

“It's a straight road, Jim,” Fenris replied, looking at me side eyed.

I inhaled sharply.  “I’m going to ask you again.  I need to get away from that accursed hammock.  Do you want to walk back to town with your old friend?”

“Accursed hammock?” replied Fenris, actually considering the dereliction of his duties for once.

“SueLeeta will be with me,” I continued. 

SueLeeta looked to me.  I had the impression that she had been trying to figure out where OttoSherman had hidden, and how she could hide with him.  “I am?”

“Unless you want to lead the former refugees to Windfall.  Besides, didn’t you want to see Narwal?”

SueLeeta surveyed the crowd, stopping at Splendid Gloria.  The fish seller gave the other woman the stink eye.  The vicious look turned into a mischievous victory grin as soon as SueLeeta looked away. “I guess I could do some shopping.”

“Great, back to Narwal,” groused Shart.

“Wagons, ho,” I yelled out. 

Chapter 3: Return to Narwal

Narwal was the nearest city of any size to Windfall.  With a population in excess of five thousand, it was the administrative hub of the province that bore its name.  Its most obvious feature from the road was the massive wall that surrounded the entire city.  It looked quite impressive and kind of reminded me of the Emerald City.

We’d crossed through the Fecking Puma Forest without any incidents.  After I’d killed the mother puma, the cats’ numbers had been on the decline.  Now that regular game was making an appearance again, the remaining pumas had basically started hunting not-humans, making travel for people much easier.  I was glad for it.  The first time I’d managed to limp through this forest had been hell.

“Zone clear,” yelled Shart as we stepped out of the woods.  He hadn’t taken the trip very well.  I pondered whether or not I should be concerned about him suffering from PTSD, until I remembered I wasn’t concerned about Shart.

“If my companion doesn’t get into formation, I will bite him,” growled Badgelor, glaring at me.  He whipped his head back and forth, searching for pumas.  Badgelor hadn’t taken the trip well, either.  I was a little concerned for him, because, unlike Shart, Badgelor was capable of occasionally helping me for the sake of helping me.  He wasn’t a complete and total opportunistic asshat.

After doing a quick puma check, because you couldn’t be too careful, I called out for SueLeeta.  She had been ranging around the caravan for the entire duration of the trip.  We hadn’t encountered any violently attacking pumas, but SueLeeta still killed a few of the cats that she felt had gotten too close. 

You could have walked from Windfall to Narwal on the backs of the fecking pumas last month, so this was a solid improvement.  We looped around the town to the northern gate, despite the eastern gate being closer to the path we had taken.  The reason for doing so was simple.  Inside the town, the road from the eastern gate had fallen out of use as an actual road.  It was currently a makeshift camp for refugees from various other sacked cities.  

“Hold,” yelled a guard as we approached.  I was already at the lead of the caravan, so I halted our group as he neared.

The guard was in the typical leather and chain that made up the Narwal guard’s armor.  It was official looking and clean, marking him as a professional soldier.  My own armor was well crafted but lacked the spit and polish of the guard. 

“Purpose of visit?” he asked in a bored tone, holding out a clipboard.

“We are delivering a load of iron from Windfall to Narwal,” I responded.  “We also have other assorted sundries.”

“Do you have a permit?” replied the guard in the same bored tone.

I was about to comment when a slip of paper was thrust into my hand by Blots, who seemingly popped out of the woodwork.  “It appears that I do.”

The guard glanced at me, then to Blots.  He took the permit from me and examined it carefully, his eyes widening.  “This has Lord Dookie’s own seal on it.”

“If you say so,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the guard.

The guard examined me again, this time looking up to see my name tag and titles.  “The Mayor of Noobtown?  I heard mention that you would be bringing iron!  Please, enter.”  He stepped away, waving his arm above his head in a circular motion.  Several additional guards ran over to the gatehouse and quickly opened a thick, heavy door.

“Thanks, Blots,” I said, marching forward.

“No problem, I guess,” replied the man as we continued into town.  He was looking better.  I’d left him with some coin, which he’d used, along with his newfound position as Windfall’s trade factor, to clean up and look the part. 

The streets were even more crowded than when I’d last left.  More refugees had entered the fortified town in the past several days.  Even walking down the main street was difficult, as refugees spilled out of the camps and alleys. 

“It's getting worse,” I observed.

“Yes,” replied Blots.  “There is another offensive and mercenaries on both sides are burning towns.  A large fishing port was ransacked recently, I hear.”

“Basstown,” I replied.  A handful of town guards began escorting us to the castle.  I never quite understood the castle here in Narwal.  It was more of an administrative center than a proper fortification but new world, new Jim. 

“I’ll have to check on that,” replied Blots, pondering what I’d just said.  “If HarCharles has taken Basstown, then there are no more major cities between the frontline and Narwal.” 

“Heard is straight form Splendid Gloria, a resident of Basstown,” I stated, as we continued walking. 

“Splendid Gloria, the fishmonger?” asked Blots.  “I suppose that would be a very reliable source, indeed.  Let me ponder this.”  With that, Blots quieted, and the town guards attempted to keep us moving forward at an orderly rate.  His family were merchants who did a fair amount of business in the local area.  I wondered how well connected they were in the various towns. 

The final leg of the trip, through the clogged streets, took much longer than it should have.  When we finally reached the perpetually opened castle gate, we were ushered in by six local guards tasked with keeping refugees out.  A clerk stepped out to meet us and began to survey the wagons, going through them with a fine-toothed comb.

“Royal Clerk, responsible for the tolls,” whispered Blots, watching him carefully. 

“Is he going to be a problem?  We have an agreement with the lord,” I stated.

“He reports directly to the King, not the lord.  He might try to give us trouble, but I'm ready for him,” replied Blots, girding himself for an administrative battle.  Powers greater than sorcery were afoot, as Blots readied his bureaucratic capabilities for the upcoming fight.  

The clerk pulled out a small book and began examining the crates of iron.  Blots walked over to greet him.  Within moments, one of the crates was open, and the clerk had an ingot of Windfall iron in his hand.  Each piece of Windfall iron had a maker’s mark on it, showing from whence it had come.  Our symbol was a velociraptor, because some idiot had set that as the town’s flag and never bothered to change it.   

“I don’t recognize this mark,” stated the clerk.  He rounded the last wagon, still clasping the bar of iron.  “Unlicensed iron will be impounded.”

I was about to raise hell when Blots stepped in, holding a sheet of paper.  “I have an official writ from Lord Dookie.  This document,” he said, waving the paper in the clerk’s face with a flourish, “is based on an old trade agreement that precedes the King’s law in Narwal.”

The clerk frowned but examined the writ.  He then frowned some more, puzzling over it.  I could literally hear his frown; it was so invasive and pronounced.  It took up his entire face.  I bet he is a laugh riot at parties.  I waited for a long moment before he finally looked back up at his true threat, Blots.

“You can’t just invent a maker’s mark,” stated the clerk angrily.  “There are rules.”

“Windfall is an old town, and it falls outside the territory of any king,” argued Blots. “Therefore, this is considered foreign trade and can be processed on an ad hoc basis, if the need is sufficient.”

The clerk ground his teeth.  Iron was in very short supply.  If he could impound it, he could probably sell it at a massive profit on the black market.  Or, he might have just been excessively loyal to the king.  Who could tell with bureaucrats?  He found a way to further frown.  He did that a lot.

“An old trade agreement, you say?” asked the clerk.  He examined the writ again.  Blots smiled confidently, the look only mildly spoiled by the thin line of sweat running down the back of his neck. 

I was in mid-process of figuring out how to fight my way out of here when the clerk…super frowned.  It's hard to describe.  Imagine a frown that was frowning.  Picture the mother of the girl you’ve been sleeping with.  Now, picture the mother finding out that you are an unemployed drummer in a heavy metal band named Snake, and her daughter is pregnant. 

“I’ll have to review this,” the clerk abruptly stated.  He turned to walk off, muttering something under his breath.  Blots exhaled noisily once Frowny McFrownyface was out of earshot. 

“You’d think that everyone in the castle would report to the lord,” I said. 

Shart snorted, and Blots looked at me like I was an idiot.  “Hardly.  That would give the local lords too much power.  They might become a threat to the King.  Each local lord handles their own taxes, but there are King’s Men, like toll collectors, that are responsible for local fees.” 

Well, of course, Ordinal had some sort of complex feudal hybrid system.  I noticed that as soon as the clerk vanished, the porters descended on the iron like flies to a mound of goblin corpses.  Blots walked into another room and came back a few moments later.  I was still trying to figure out how so much iron could be moved so quickly.   

“All set,” replied Blots.

“We’ve been paid?” I asked.  I was somewhat apprehensive about that.  Without the gold, Windfall would be experiencing a bit of an economic collapse in the near future.

Blots looked at me and nodded.  “Yes, the mission is complete.  We have the gold.”

“Good,” I said, looking at Blots.  He was not holding a large sack of gold.  Maybe SueLeeta had grabbed it, but I didn’t think so.  She was still sitting on the end of one of the wagons, examining the broad-shouldered men removing the stacks of iron.

“The money?” I asked after a moment. 

“Yes?” questioned Blots, before someone yelled his name.  He stepped away.

“Shart, where is all the money we just earned?” I asked in a huff.

“It was a mission reward,” replied Shart, as if that explained anything.

“Yes, but where is it?” I pressed.

“It was a mission reward,” stated Badgelor sleepily.  He had been snoozing on my non-demon occupied shoulder for the better part of our time in Narwal. 

“You both saying that doesn’t mean anything to me,” I replied angrily. 

Shart looked at me, the slow edging of horror crossing into his vision, “Oh for the love of…,” he sighed, pinching his nose with his stubby fingers.  “Mission Rewards are sent back to the town that completed them.  It’s like when you complete a quest.  The gold rewards get deposited directly into your money pouch.”

“So, the reward teleports,” I started, remembering the money vanishing from the town coffers far faster than anyone could explain without magic.

“Not the physical stuff like armor or goods, but the gold sure will,” replied the demon.

“But gold is physical stuff.  It’s money.  It’s a physical thing that you can have,” I argued. 

Shart stared hard at me.  “I physically have coins in my pouch.  They don’t teleport. . .” I said, far less confident than I had been only moments before.

“I literally have no words,” the demon said, shaking his head.

“Both quest rewards and mission rewards just teleport, willy nilly, to wherever,” I groaned.

“I’m not hearing a question here,” replied Shart, glaring at me, “Look, I get that you are an idiot, but this joke is going a bit old, even for you.”

“Fine,” I spat.  Ordinal was weird, but I guessed it was no different than having your paycheck electronically deposited.  I could follow that line of logic, at least.  “So, now we can level up the town.”

“What makes you think that?” asked Shart as he fluttered in the breeze like a drifting leaf.

“Because the conditions were 100 people, which we are pretty close to, and a positive cash flow, which we have,” I said.  “We have well over 100 residents, and I’ll get a few more from here.”  The next level required 250 residents.  I’d checked. 

“Jim, you are trying too hard,” said Badgelor apologetically.  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“No,” I said slowly and brought up my menus to scan through them.  It didn’t take long to find the problem.  The town had conditions for leveling up, to be certain, but it also had the same experience bar that every other blasted thing on Ordinal had.  We were not close to leveling up.  The bar was only half full. 

I expanded the town’s experience log and saw that we needed 40,000 town experience to level Windfall up to level 4.  We were earning a miserly 97 points a day, which wasn’t going to cut it.  I continued reviewing and spotted several small hunks of experience, as well as two large chunks of bonus experience. 

It seemed that completing repairs granted a small amount of town experience, but that was based on the number of repairs required.  The Tier 4 sawmill we had in town was going to require extensive repairs, and that should hand out a massive wad of experience points.  The two large chunks of experience we gained were from capturing the mine and completing the trade mission. 

I just need to finish up another mission!

Bringing up Glorious Robert’s mission, I saw that it, too, handed out a massive hunk of experience.  This wasn’t going to be so hard after all.  All it was going to take was a fully repair Tier 4 structure and a seemingly endless supply of labor.  Piece of cake. 

“Give me a week,” I said knowingly.  “I’ll be leveling up the town while I’m sitting on the beach.”

“Sure,” replied Shart.

Chapter 4: The Lord of Narwal

Night had fallen.  I was in the castle courtyard with the wagons, which were still being unloaded.  Blots and SueLeeta were off discussing some finer point of intrigue, or maybe just where the best local bar was located.  Shart sat quietly on my shoulder, as he was wont to do.  Badgelor was on my other shoulder, eyes forward and sniffing slightly.

“I wonder what that is,” stated the badger.  He hopped down and waddled off into the darkness.  I’d be worried about him, but there was little point.  Badgelor was built like a tank. 

I was about to ask Shart if he smelled whatever Badgelor caught a whiff of, but two loud voices stopped me.  I recognized both instantly.  Wisely, I used my Shadow Walking ability and tucked myself out of sight.  By the tone of the conversation, I didn’t want any part of it.

“So, first you wanted them to stay; now, you want them gone,” shouted Lord Dookie.  His golden circlet bobbed as he yelled at Sir Dalton.  Lord Dookie was a well-built man.  He surely would have looked physically opposing, if he was stacked up against anything short of the mythical figure next to him. 

“You yourself have stated, repeatedly, that you do not fear them as spies.  I think now is the time to send them away,” shouted the Knight.  Sir Dalton was a massive man, with a square jaw and a broad chest.  He didn’t seem as tall as I remembered, but he was still a head taller than Dookie.  He took every advantage his height had to offer, looking down on Dookie as they quarreled.

“Do you have any idea what would happen to me if I sent streams of refugees south?” countered Lord Dookie, his hand going to his sword hilt.  “The dishonor in being unable to maintain my province would be least among my sins.” 

“We are running out of food!  There are more people here than we can support,” stated Sir Dalton flatly. 

“We could send them back to their homes,” stated Lord Dookie angrily.  Sir Dalton glared at him. 

“You would prefer to let them march back, defenseless, into a war zone, Lord Dookie? Dalton growled, his back ramrod straight and eyes formed into mere slits.”

I turned to look at Shart, but he was gone from my shoulder.  Strange.  I realized these two were going to come to blows.  If they did…it might screw up our trade mission.  I began racking my brain, trying to figure out how to prevent a duel right here in the middle of the courtyard.  Then, I heard a loud call.

“Pillow,” cried Badgelor, as he climbed on top of a stack of crates and leapt onto Bashara, of all people.  She was knocked from her feet, causing the stack of cloth she had been standing on to collapse.  I hadn’t even seen her, and she was only a few paces from where I’d been standing.  I wondered if I had been as well hidden, or if she had been aware of my presence.  

Of course, when I heard “pillow,” everyone else heard an angry badger growl.  Sir Dalton and Lord Dookie, already ready for combat, both spun on their heels to see what the commotion was. 

Badgelor had found Bashara and promptly demonstrated his proficiency as a lap badger.  That was sort of like a lap dog, except Badgelor was the size of a very squat and unusually heavy bulldog.  He also possessed incredibly sharp claws that were currently attempting to break her lap.  Bashara, for all her dignity and grace, was trying not to scream as the badger destroyed her dress.  From where she had fallen, I could see her, but Sir Dalton and Lord Dookie could not.  With as dark as it was, the only thing they could see was Badgelor going to town on what appeared to be a roll of cloth. 

“Isn't that Jim’s badger?” asked Sir Dalton as he watched the commotion. 

“Go feck yourself,” stated Badgelor in a high-pitched badger growl.  “Jim’s my human.”

Well, Dalton and Dookie weren’t fighting now, so I stepped out of the shadows.  I smiled in what I hoped was a friendly fashion.  Sir Dalton spotted me first, his eyes narrowing.  Lord Dookie actually jumped when he saw me.  I belatedly realized that I was quite a bit closer to the two of them than they probably preferred, especially for someone to just pop up.  

“Mayor Jim!” exclaimed Lord Dookie, “you startled me.  I did not expect to see you here personally.  Mister Blots said your man… um… Fenris would be attending.” 

“There was a minor issue, so I offered to take his place,” I replied, walking boldly up to them.  Neither man said anything, and I made to clasp wrists with Lord Dookie.  Blots had shown me how to properly do it.  Clasping wrists was the accepted greeting if at least one person was wearing armor.  Shaking hands in gauntlets was too cumbersome. 

After we clasped wrists, Lord Dookie relaxed a bit.  Sir Dalton still looked at me like I was something scraped off the bottom of his shoe, but he had the thin veneer of politeness wrapped around him now.  I nodded to him, and he nodded back.

I glanced around for Badgelor and Bashara, but all I could see was Badgelor trying to get his snooze on. I wondered what she had been up to before we’d been interrupted.  Probably trying to avoid the two men, just like I was.

“Have you seen Bashara?” I asked as the conversation lulled. 

“Yes, you are very well informed.  Lady Bashara returned here late this very day,” stated Sir Dalton.  “She has since retired to her accommodations.  How did you know she had arrived?”

That was odd.  I recalled her leaving Windfall sometime before the siege.  That had only been a few days ago.  I would have expected her to avoid Narwal entirely, but it appeared that she had other plans.  I also had thought of her as some sort of mercenary Wizard.  Apparently, Sir Dalton thought she was a lady.  I would have to remember that.

“Yes, I ran into Lady Bashara during my travels.  When I discovered that she was here, I thought I might inquire about her,” I said as diplomatically as I could.

Lord Dookie watched me and Sir Dalton for a moment.  “He’s an observant one.  With a lady as beautiful as Bashara, the guards or townsfolk undoubtedly mentioned it.  It's not as if she just snuck into the city.”

Sir Dalton looked down at me for a moment, then relented.  “I suppose not.  She has been traveling, of course, and decided to grace us with her presence.  I must say, I am curious as to where you have met her during your travels?”

“Up north,” I answered vaguely.  In fact, it had been just north of Narwal, less than an hour’s journey from here.  She had been hired by a crew of bandits, claiming not to enjoy the work.  That hadn’t stopped her from taking the coin, though.

Dalton looked at me annoyed, but Lord Dookie nodded and replied, “I knew there was a bit more about you than you let on.  Lady Bashara has not been this way in quite some time.  She is always about, searching for ancient relics.  You should invite her to Noobtown.  She could give your adventurers a bit of real-world advice.”

I didn’t want to mention that Bashara, until very recently, had been a mercenary Wizard for Durg, the local bandit leader.  From my limited interactions with her, I could tell that Bashara was a complex lady.  I could easily see her as a tomb raider or a mysterious prophet, among other things.  She also had the ability to mask her true self.  I supposed she might have many layers to her, like an onion. 

“Where are my manners?” stated Lord Dookie, “Come.”  He led both Sir Dalton and me to a smaller room off the courtyard.  By the time we reached the doorway, Shart had reappeared.  Once there, Dookie poured me a cup of wine before pouring himself and Sir Dalton one as well. 

“Cheers,” I stated, and the three of us drank.  It was a decent wine, more fruity than alcoholic.  It was only after drinking it that I realized how dusty my throat had become, probably from all that walking.  After that first drink, several others were consumed.  I ended up sitting on a comfortable chair near the fireplace, while Dalton and Dookie found their own seats. 

“You two seemed to be having a spirited discussion,” I started, finally addressing their argument in the courtyard.  “Is there anything I could do to assist you?”

Lord Dookie sighed, spinning his cup around.  I watched as the wine sloshed precariously around the edges.  “I fear not.  The war has heated up again, and there are more refugees than ever heading to Narwal.  We are filled to capacity.  We simply cannot take any more.”

“I’m surprised that you haven’t asked me to take some,” I said, thinking back to the waves of refugees.  Their appearance at our gates was almost a daily occurrence.

“I can’t order you to do anything,” replied Lord Dookie.  “You are the only mayor around here who is not tied to a king.”  I noticed Lord Dookie’s eyes on me.  It was as if he was looking for me to react somehow. 

“No, Noobtown does not have a king,” I stated, and Lord Dookie relaxed.  Then, it hit me.  He had been wondering if I’d aligned Noobtown with HarCharles, or whoever ruled the land around my city.  Maybe, Falcon Crest?  I was terrible with names.  That hadn’t changed from Earth.

Sir Dalton eyed Lord Dookie for a moment, totally oblivious to the interplay.  “Is that why you’ve never brought up Noobtown as a possible destination for these unwashed travelers?”

“Those people are citizens of this kingdom!  They will be treated with due respect,” growled Lord Dookie.  “I did not wish to ask any favors.  We desperately need iron, and I was unsure what sort of response such a request would bring.  For all I knew, Jim would have closed off that massive gate of his and hoarded all his city’s resources.   I’m not willing to spend any of our resources to breech Noobtown’s defenses.”

Sir Dalton eyed me and chuckled.  “I think the army and I could negotiate entry.  I am fairly certain I could handle a few adventurers, if it came down to it.”

Lord Dookie sighed and looked into his cup.  “Seriously Dalton, it's Noobtown.  I don’t know how many adventurers there are in Windfall but I’m not willing to march an army there to find out.”

“And we appreciate that,” I said.  We didn’t have any more adventurers, though.  That was the name given to people with Class levels.  Our current lineup was Fenris, SueLeeta, and me.  I supposed Glorious Robert would also qualify now. 

“Shart, how do I get more adventurers?” I thought.

“Build an Adventurer’s Guild,” replied Shart.

Sir Dalton wandered over to the counter and poured himself more wine, downing it in one gulp.  He sighed, demonstrating a weariness that I hadn’t thought him capable of.  “We need to do something for these people.  We are already putting sawdust in the stew.”

“We cannot send them to their homes up north,” said Lord Dookie sadly, “They would be killed, and it would be a great stain upon my honor.  Likewise, I lack permission to send them south.  They would be considered bandits by the local lords and would be imprisoned or killed.” 

“Play a tiny violin,” thought Shart.  “This doesn’t really impact us at all.  Let’s just leave.”

Shart’s alignment, in Dungeons and Dragons terms, would have been Lawful Evil tending toward Neutral Evil.  He only cared deeply about the <system> of laws that governed Ordinal and himself.  Most of his plans involved the least risk with the greatest reward for him.  That meant that if he didn’t want to do something, it was generally a good and wholesome thing to do.

“I’ll take some,” I said, flipping open my menus.  I needed to check how many ‘some’ would mean. 

“You are agreeing to this just to annoy me,” growled Shart.  “Who cares about them?  They aren’t going to help you.”

“They aren’t going to help me much,” I thought back as I reviewed.  Windfall’s population had exploded after multiple additional refugee caravans had hit the town.  Thankfully, the improving quality of the town had allowed Mar to find make-work for more of them. Employment was soon going to be a real issue again, though.  The blade for the sawmill was going to be a gamechanger, and I was earnestly hoping that would put the town to right for a long while. 

In simple terms, Windfall was producing enough food to feed just over 300 people.  We presently had 187 in town including the latest batch from Basstown.  We had additional farming plots but lacked the implements to work them.  I expected the blacksmith could produce more tools in short order.  The other problem was housing.  We had repaired all the easy to fix structures.  The next tier of repairs required significant amounts of planks to accomplish.  With the Sawmill, we would be able to work on those, as well.  Windfall was going to turn into a boom town shortly. 

“I can take fifty,” I stated, after closing the menus, “With some conditions.”

Both men blinked.  Lord Dookie coughed, “Do you need to review your town menu first?”

Crap!  I had forgotten that most people had to actually open up their menus and look at them in real time.  Due to my bond with Shart, I could see my menus in a vastly accelerated timescale. To these guys, it appeared that I had just pulled the number fifty out of my rear end. 

“I thought you might ask this of me when I arrived.” I lied through my teeth.  I was inclined to help refugees, anyway.  If I could wring some concessions out of it, all the better.  Sir Dalton stared into his cup, but Lord Dookie looked impressed.

“Well, as is to be expected.” replied Lord Dookie, nodding.  “What are your conditions?”

Good question.  Bringing up the town menu again, I opened the Missions tab.  I still couldn’t accept any jobs outside the boundary of the town, but, with my increased Administration skill, I could at least read through them.  I found a few for farming, but they required a license from Windfall Castle. That seemed to be outside the scope of what Lord Dookie could offer, so I checked elsewhere.  I found one for building an Agricultural Guild.  That structure required a blueprint that Narwal might have.

I checked the food menu and found that we had enough farming to produce food for 300 souls.  Checking that against the actual food production turned in showed that enough food to feed more than 320 was being brought into Windfall daily, though not today.  Further examination showed a poaching column.  SueLeeta’s name was the only one listed. 

She had been going hunting daily and bringing in meat for the town.  Apparently, outside the barrier of the town was considered provincial territory, and we didn’t have a hunting license for that area.  I guessed that was because the province that Windfall resided in, the Windfall Valley Province, lacked a governor or Lord Dookie equivalent.

Reviewing the farming sub menu, I realized we had enough fields for 200 more units of food to be produced.  Ordinal, being different than Earth, allowed the village to reap food daily rather than at a specific harvest time.  That was extremely odd to me, but, at this point, I just accepted it and moved on.  The unused fields would first need to be repaired, and that would require implements.  

“So, Windfall can only make 500 units of food a day?” I asked, pointing to the farming menu for Shart’s benefit.

“That’s what it says,” replied the demon.  “Right there in indelible <system> font, no less.  Congrats on being able to read.”

“Why can’t I grow more food than that?” I asked.  “It said something about a license.”

“Yes, your province has a number of licenses it can grant, including one for additional fields.  However, without a provincial governor, no one can grant them.  Thus, it’s nothing to worry your pretty little head over.  I’d suggest finishing that fishing ship.  That would increase your overall food production.  Maybe get some cattle.  The hay that cows eat isn’t considered food fit for humans,” explained Shart.  “Or, you could just go fuck yourself.”

Oh, he’s still upset about helping the refugees.  I had furtively hoped he had let that go, since he was helpfully explaining things to me again. 

All the info was in the menus, of course, but Shart liked to demonsplain things to me.  From time to time, it was easier to let him, even though he would use my lack of knowledge against me later.  I checked all the town’s different food menus.  Adding up all sources, I was looking at around 750 food units per day.  That assumed everything was in full swing and did not account for catastrophes.  Daily, we were looking at 500 units from farming, 100 units from livestock, and 150 units from a fishing boat. 

While I doubted it would be that simple, it at least gave me a good starting point. 

“I will require a load of farming implements,” I began.  I knew we needed those to get the new fields set up.  “As well as some livestock, eight cows or an equivalent.  Additionally, I’ll require the blueprints to an Agricultural Guild, and I wouldn’t say no to any other blueprints you might have to help me settle these people.”

●                    You have used Bargaining, limited success.

“That’s not cheap,” stated Lord Dookie, considering.  “I can do the farming implements straight off.  We have a small supply of those ready to ship off with the refugees already.  I have a blueprint for an Agricultural Guild that I can grant you, though you will obviously need to provide your own license.  I also have a blueprint for an easy-to-build house that you might find useful.  The livestock will be more of an issue.  We need those for our own people.”

I nodded.  I had expected that answer on the cows.  “Perhaps fewer than eight, then?” I tried.

“I would find it difficult to part with any of them presently,” responded Lord Dookie sadly.

“Perhaps, when we come with the next shipment of iron, we might take fifty more refugees, then.  Assuming you can provide us with eight cattle and some quality horses,” I countered.  I heard Shart gasp.

Lord Dookie was about to refuse, right up until I mentioned taking additional refugees.  He quieted and considered.  “Would you really be willing to take fifty refugees every time?”

“NO,” screamed Shart.

“We can talk after I get the animals,” I returned.  Windfall was already receiving a great number of refugees.  Bringing in even more was going to be difficult to sustain for any period of time. Then again, if I could get the additional food, I figured it would buy us massive leeway.

Lord Dookie stuck out his hand.  “I think I can work with that.” 

Chapter 5: Bashara’s Best Friend

I bid the two men well and left the comfortable room without further comment.  Sensing Badgelor’s particularly happy emotions made it very easy to find him.  I wandered over to a large pile of cloth and climbed over to my companion.

Bashara looked up at me sheepishly from her position under a very comfortable looking, sleeping badger.  “Hi Jim,” she greeted.  “Could you move him, please?”

I sat, looking down into the space where she had fallen.  Her legs, as well as one of her arms, were pinned under large rolls of cloth and badger.  Badgelor was in his larger form, crushing her.  I attempted to use Lore on her, but I was not skilled enough to see through her defenses.  I’d have complained, but she was in the same boat.  With my amulet and Shadow Walker perk, she couldn’t use Lore on me, either. 

“So, this is where you went?” I asked, grinning down at her.  I was truly enjoying the moment. 

Bashara frowned cutely, “I wandered around a bit first, if you must know.  Please, Jim!  This is starting to hurt.”

I grabbed Badgelor by the scruff of his neck and pulled.  He instantly shrank down as I lifted him up.  Somehow, he slept through the whole process.  I unceremoniously dropped him onto my empty shoulder.  He unconsciously latched onto my armor.  “Better?”

“Much,” replied Bashara, struggling to a sitting position as she freed her arm.  I hopped down as she stood up, somehow slithering out of the bolts of cloth with dignity.  She hopped off the pile, and I noticed something.  She fell wrong, but not in the sense that she landed badly or something.  As she stepped off the mound of cloth, the effects of gravity seemed to be less on her than they were on the rest of the world.  She kind of glided, like a feather, coming to rest gently on the ground. 

She grinned after she landed, both of her perfect cheeks dimpling.  Just like my wife’s used to.  As she got herself straightened out, she moved toward me, arms outstretched.  As she closed in, Badgelor began to stir.  Bashara froze.  For an instant, I thought I saw her lips twist into a frown, but I shook my head.  That would have been out of character for Bashara.  She was just a simple mercenary Wizard.

And a lady?

I shook it off.  Even accounting for the weirdness of Ordinal, Bashara was the weirdest person I’d met.  She seemed flummoxed about what to do with Badgelor, because she was his favorite person in the whole wide world.  Finally, her hands slumped down, and she settled for smiling at me.

“I’m just here for the night.  I’ve got to go out west,” she said.  She glanced around, before looking at me conspiratorially.  “I’m looking for a long-lost castle.  There is supposed to be treasure hidden there.”

“Are those rare?” I asked.

“Mostly, yes,” she replied.  “The one I’m looking for has been abandoned for ages and has a powerful treasure inside.  If I can find it and unlock it, it's going to give me a serious boost to my powers.”

“So, that’s why you were wandering around Windfall,” I said, remembering her brief trip into the valley.

“Yup.  I think I found a dungeon there, but it wasn’t what I was looking for,” she replied.  She was circling me, never getting close enough to startle Badgelor.

“Well, if I see a castle, I’ll be sure to tell you about it,” I said.

Bashara grinned a cute little grin.  It was almost infectious.  “Really?  Well…if I do find the right castle, I’m not against partying up with another adventurer.  Tell you what, if either of us find the castle, we can go together and split the treasure.”

“Don’t you want to keep it for yourself?” I asked.

“Odds are I’m going to find stuff that I can’t use,” she replied, brushing off my comment.  “If that’s the case, I’d rather have someone like you with me who can use it.  You can also help keep any monsters away from me. “

“Well, I could certainly do that,” I commented. 

Bashara smiled at me.   “Want to keep me all for yourself?”  She began adjusting herself slightly as she stepped gracefully into a beam of moonlight.  She was quite a bit curvier than I remembered.  I’d thought of her as rather scrawny, but, out of her armor, she was just right. 

“So, I’m only here for the night,” she said, biting her lower lip.  “You could lose the badger and come visit me in my room?”

I was tempted.  I was terribly lonely, and Bashara did remind me of my wife.  She reminded me too much of my wife, actually.  As I began running down the ramifications of that, I heard a voice.

“Jim, you big jerk, where are you?” called SueLeeta.  I turned to see her and Blots walking toward me.  Bashara frowned before leaning up against some crates.  She looked scrawnier again, not nearly as curvy but still vivacious. Must have been a trick of the light. 

“I understand that you wandered off with Lord Dookie and Sir Dalton,” said Blots, who appeared to be quite upset.  “Negotiations are my job.”

“Sorry,” I answered sourly, anger filling me at the interruption.  “I had forgotten that I needed people to do everything for me.”

Blots seemed taken aback.  He frowned at me.  “Well, if you are uninterested in keeping my services, perhaps I should leave.”

I glared at Blots, and he glared right back.  I didn’t remember what set me off, but it was obviously his fault.  SueLeeta looked back and forth between the two of us.  That unreliable Hunter was already trying to pick sides.  A growl escaped from my left shoulder.  Badgelor had woken up and was glaring at my enemies.

“I’ll take Blots, you get SueLeeta,” growled the badger as he scanned around.  Then he sniffed loudly and turned to face a shocked looking Bashara.  “Pillow!”

In a flash, he was off my shoulder and expanding back into his War Form.  Bashara tried to magic up some sort of barrier, but it failed.  She was unceremoniously smashed to the ground by a massive pile of badger.  Blots looked at her for a moment, and his mood cracked.  He laughed a deep, throaty laugh.  Suddenly realizing the absurdity of it all, I did the same.

Badgelor and Bashara were rolling around on the ground in a tussle.  The badger was savagely trying to reclaim her lap as a bed, and she was frantically trying to preserve hope that her dress might be salvaged.  Neither fully won.  Bashara kept Badgelor off her lap, but her dress was a lost cause.   

“I’m going to bed,” stated Bashara as Badgelor attempted to nuzzle deeply into her chest. 

Chapter 5.5: Narwal’s Finest

“I don’t like her,” stated SueLeeta as she drank an entire pint of Narwal’s finest.  Blots, it turned out, couldn’t handle his liquor.  He was unconscious after his third cup.  I’d already gotten him a room at the inn, and the innkeeper’s son had frog-marched him up the stairs not too long ago.

“Well, I’m sorry,” I replied.  “She’s a nice girl.”

“That’s just it, Jim,” grumbled SueLeeta.  “She’s not.”

Man, the idea of a jealous SueLeeta did not sit well with me.  It wasn’t that I had strong feelings for Bashara.  In fact, now that we’d left the courtyard, I was having a hard time remembering what exactly I saw in her.  Badgelor was really fond of her, but that was the only redeeming quality that came to mind.  I patted the badger’s head.

“Don’t touch me, you annoying git,” he mumbled, still mostly unconscious.  He was not an animal that liked to be petted, most of the time. 

Suddenly, I recalled that I had wanted to ask Bashara what she knew about Dookie and Dalton fighting earlier.  Those two had been about to come to blows.  If Badgelor hadn’t tackled Bashara... 

Which means that whatever happened, she probably just missed it.  Something tickled at the back of my mind, but I couldn’t place it.  It probably had something to do with why I’d gotten so angry at Blots.  I still couldn’t recall what had suddenly upset me so much.  Probably just the day’s travel. 

I grumbled, looking down at the badger.  There was nothing I could do now.  It probably didn’t matter anyway.  Shaking my head, I attempted to clear it of any annoying thoughts.  I took another large swig of my drink to aid in the clearing of my mind.

“So, the plan is to leave tomorrow at noon,” stated SueLeeta.  She was looking around carefully. The tone in Narwal wasn’t what one would call pleasant.  We’d only been able to get rooms at the inn because Blots had an ongoing arrangement with the innkeeper.  The entire town was imploding due to the refugee crisis.  Taking away fifty people wasn’t going to fix that. 

The whole town was walking on a razor’s edge.  Whatever set it off was going to be messy. 

“Yes,” I stated.  “We’ll meet everyone at the warehouse that Blots rented and leave from there.  We both have a bit of time for shopping beforehand.”

SueLeeta shook her head.  “I don’t think so.  It's a bit too rough out there for this country girl.  I’ve already told Blots what I want.  He’ll find it for me, if it's available.  I think I’ll head out to the Fecking Puma Forest tomorrow morning and clear the way a bit.”

I couldn’t really blame her, but I had a mission.

Chapter 6: The Foundry

The next morning went smoothly enough.  I woke up, went to Blots’ door, and opened it with the key I had.  Several minutes of violent shaking later, he was awake.  Of course, he had a massive hangover from three small glasses of substandard ale. 

I found SueLeeta in full armor, getting ready to leave.  I quickly explained the problem.

“What a lightweight,” she giggled, handing me a vial.  “It's just a mixture of healroot and tree bark.  Got some from Jarra the Healer.” 

●                    Clear Eyes Potion: This potion cures all hangovers caused by non-magical alcoholic beverages.

I thanked her, and she left, taking an over-hard egg and two chunks of bread with her.  Even with my Perception skill and tracking abilities, I lost her in the crowd in moments. 

“She doesn’t like busy towns,” I stated.

“No one likes it here, Jim,” replied Badgelor.  “This place is too crowded.  People don’t even notice my magnificence.  I’m going to have to either ride you or stay in War Form all day.”

“You are Lord of the Badgers,” I stated, remembering his proper title.  “This shouldn’t take long. You know, you could follow SueLeeta and get yourself some fresh puma for breakfast.”

Badgelor eyed me carefully as the crowds began to crush inward in the streets.  “Well, if you think you and Blots will be okay.”

Traitor, I thought with a chuckle but nodded.  “Go chase after SueLeeta.  I’m sure you can find her.”  Even if it turned out that I did need Badgelor, I could always sense his general direction and distance using our bond.  It was enormously easy to find him, if I had to. 

As if to make the decision for him, the innkeeper strode over to me.  “Sir, is this your badger?”

“Yes,” I replied, looking the innkeeper over.  He was very sweaty and red in the face for someone who dealt with the public.

“His particular odor has entirely saturated my public room.  I demand that you remove him this instant,” grated the innkeeper.  Everyone was looking at me now.  Blots stumbled in and made to say something but ended up just groaning loudly.  He placed one hand on his head and the other on his stomach.  I waggled the vial of Jarra’s concoction at him, but he was too sick to react.   

“Badgelor, did you pee on something?” I asked the relaxed little badger.

“No, of course not, Jim!  That would be improper.  I just marked everything with my musk gland,” he replied with a grin.  “I got scared that breakfast would be late.”

My left eye twitched. 

“I’ll get him to leave,” I stated, glaring down at Badgelor.  “I believe that I’ll settle up and depart, as well.”

“That would be for the best,” replied the innkeeper.

While we weren’t quite thrown out, by the time I’d gotten out my gold pouch to pay, the entire inn was well and truly done with us.  Badgelor’s musk wasn’t quite as bad as skunks, but it was… musky.  It was the kind of scent you could taste and instantly regretted breathing in.

Blots was next to useless as we stumbled out.  “I’m sorry.  I don’t know what came over me.  I don’t have much of a taste for alcohol normally, but SueLeeta was drinking.  I thought a couple wouldn't hurt.” 

“Drink that,” I ordered, shoving the vial of potion into his hand. 

“I'm sorry.  I’m just going to have to let this run its course,” replied Blots, trying to focus and hand the vial back to me.  His vision finally cleared enough to notice the green liquid. “What is that anyway?  Is it a Clear Eyes potion?”

I nodded, and he snatched it away from my grasp.  He quickly drank the entire contents in one gulp.  As I watched, his bloodshot eyes returned to normal and his back straightened. Wow, that potion really does a number on a hangover.

“Let’s go shopping,” Blots exclaimed.  It was only then that he looked around and realized that SueLeeta wasn’t with us.  The crestfallen look he gave me was heartbreaking.  I wanted to tell him that he didn't have a shot, but SueLeeta might have a thing for merchants. Knowing what I did, I wasn’t entirely sure that she was all that discerning when it came to love interests. 

Despite the crowds, Blots managed to navigate through them with relative ease.  Dragging me along behind him, we parted crowd after crowd.  The smells from the city had never been good, but now they were downright atrocious. 

“Is it safe here?” I asked as we walked in front of a nasty looking group of toughs.  We had run into a few gangs before, but Blots knew how to avoid the majority of them.  The rest he had another strategy for.  One ruffian grinned as he saw Blots. 

Then, my dear employee, the one whom I trusted with the business of Windfall, shoved me straight at the toughs.  Their leader eyed Blots and then gave me a good once over.  I glared at him.

●                    You have resisted an Intimidate check.  The target is too low level to intimidate you.

●                    Intimidate Check Successful, Extra Successful you are significantly more powerful than your target.

He paled and backed off, placing his gang between him and I.  They quickly read the room and began backing off with their leader. 

“Oh yes, perfectly safe, if you know what you are doing, Sir,” stated Blots.  He continued hustling me toward the industrial district.  I noticed a difference immediately upon reaching the outskirts of the city’s industry section.  Narwal’s merchant district had paid guards to keep the riff raff out.  The industrial district, deep in the heart of the city, relied on a more direct method.

As we walked up to the large Iron Works, an enormous, bored looking man stomped over to Blots.  My eyes were drawn to the sizable hammer he was swinging back and forth in his right hand.  “What’s your business here?” the man growled. 

Blots stood up, squared his shoulders, and said in a loud clear voice, “The mayor of Windfall has a special order with your manager.  We are expected to receive the item today.  Please do inform him that we are here.”

The large man looked sheepish.  “Err, oh, sorry about that.  We are expecting you.”

Blots nodded.  “Please do hurry.  The mayor hates to be kept waiting.”

We were shown in immediately.  Our escort seemed to be intent on taking us around the massive Iron Works.  However, Blots’ constant prodding to get us there faster caused the man’s back to stiffen.  After the fourth attempted detour, Blots mentioned the urgency of our task.  The man seemed to change his mind and turned down a short hallway into the gigantic structure.  He led us straight toward a light.

“Walk toward the light,” stated Shart.

“On Earth, that’s what you say to someone who is dying,” I mentally replied.

“Really?  That’s terrible,” stated Shart.  “I mean the ‘on Earth’ part, because that place sounds wretched.  On Ordinal, we use that expression about walking through a Demon Door.”

“Which will cause you to erase my mind,” I responded.

“Technically,” replied Shart.

The Iron Works was a large structure.  Multiple furnaces blasted an enormous amount of heat at any given moment.  I felt my clothes dampen as I began to sweat profusely.  We were taken deeper into the facility, where it got progressively hotter. 

“This feels great,” stated Shart as we continued walking. 

“It's so fucking hot I think my eyeballs are going to pop,” I complained.  “Why aren’t they all dropping from dehydration?”

“Oh, there is a perk in the Blacksmith profession that allows you to ignore the heat from the furnace.  You don’t have to take it to be a Blacksmith, but most of them do,” replied the demon.  He hopped off my shoulder and landed right on the side of one of the furnaces.  I swear I could hear the sizzling of his flesh on the forge.  Alas, he survived. 

“Mr Mayor, I’m Picket, owner of this facility,” said an even larger version of our hammer-wielding escort.  Picket stuck out his hand and we clasped wrists because I was still wearing my armor.  “I am surprised that you wanted a tour of the facilities instead of waiting in the warehouse next door.  That’s where your order is.”

I looked over at my escort.  He turned and grinned at Blots.  Blots, meanwhile, looked like he was about to catch fire.  That asshole had led us through the burning hot furnace area because he was getting revenge on Blots for being impatient. 

Touché.

“That was an interesting tour of your Iron Works,” I said.

“Yes, Sir,” replied our self-designated tour guide.  “I thought that your man wanted to get you here as quickly as possible. “

“Quite,” replied Picket as we walked by another furnace.  It grew even hotter, invoking a memory of something my grandmother used to say.  When it was a particularly hot day out, she would say it “was hotter than a witch’s titty.”  I had always laughed good-naturedly.  Now, in a world where witches were real, I was a tiny bit curious if... 

“Very impressive,” I stated, snapping out of my weird musings.  I suppose I should see to my order.”

Picket waved us to the exit, and I walked toward it at a steady pace.  I swear I could see smoke rising from my armor by the time I got to the door.  I’d have to oil down my entire suit if I was going to prevent it from taking Durability damage.  I glanced around for Shart and saw him swimming in one of the crucibles of iron. 

There was an open hallway connecting the forge to the warehouse, obviously designed as a heat break to keep the warehouse livable.  Walking in, I did my best not to gasp audibly.  The wave of air felt icy cold in comparison to the blistering temperatures we had just left.  Blots didn’t quite manage.  He gasped loudly as we entered.

“Well, pooh, this isn’t nearly as comfortable,” griped Shart as he reappeared on my shoulder. 

We were led over to a flat-bed wagon with a large crate loaded onto it.  The wagon had a symbol of a line with two circles underneath it and an upside-down letter A carved into its side.  A man wearing a different outfit than the rest of the warehouse workers was leaning up against it.  Pushing Shart’s complaint from my mind, I noticed that the crate’s lid hadn’t been nailed down yet.  “Let’s see it.”

Picket nodded.  That had certainly been why they hadn’t nailed it down yet.  The saw blade was a massive circle of steel, nearly five feet across.  I examined the teeth.  They were not quite made of steel.  I wasn’t entirely sure what they were made of, but the material looked to be harder than the more common metal.

“That’s adamant,” stated the Iron Monger, noticing my interest.  “Ten times the durability of steel.  Perfect for this application,” he stated proudly.

My Engineering skill kicked in, highlighting the areas of the blade where Engineering had been used to improve the tool. 

“Shart, why is my Engineering kicking in?  Isn’t this a Blacksmith skill?” I thought at Shart.

“The saw blade was made by a Blacksmith, but the finished product is considered to be a component of a building.  That qualifies it as an Engineering task,” said Shart.  His eyes went wide and he growled at me.  “Wait, you learned Engineering?  That’s a rare skill!  How in the hell did you learn Engineering?”

“I looked at a bridge,” I stated.

“And?” questioned the demon.  I mentally gave him the equivalent of a blank stare.  “Oh, my dark oily soul, you just looked at a bridge?  That’s. . .I mean. . .I guess you do have Jack of All Trades. That grants you a bonus to learning in all skills, but. . .give me a second.”

Suddenly, Shart was sifting through my mind.  Occasionally, he emitted a grunt or a shriek.   “How many skills do you have?”

“Lots,” I thought back.  I’d figured out how to filter the prompts so that, unless I was looking for them, they stayed unobtrusive. 

“You are going to pick up something you shouldn’t possess sooner or later, and there are going to be problems,” said Shart finally. 

“Back to my question.  The saw blade?” I pressed.

“You can use your Engineering skill to modify and improve items that are part of larger structures or complex objects.  You can use Blacksmithing to make those parts, but you use Engineering to utilize them correctly,” explained the miffed demon.

“There, was that so hard?” I asked.

“You suck,” replied Shart.

With my Blacksmith skill and my Engineering skill, I could tell the saw blade was of good quality and would serve the needs of the village well.  I gestured for it to be sealed up and nodded to Blots, who was still wiping sweat from his brow. 

“I believe we are all set then,” said Blots.

“Where will you be needing it delivered?” asked the driver of the wagon.

Blots smiled.  “No need for an additional fee for delivery.  We have both wagons and men.  We’ll just swing by and pick it up on our way out of town at noon.”

“The Wagoneer’s Guild will not be thrilled about that.  No goods can move within the town on wheels without our permission,” the driver stated, “That’s all that matters.”.

“What are the current rates?” asked Blots, having expected a problem with the guild.  The two got down to haggling.  Due to the urgency of our request, driving the blade the block and a half to our warehouse was going to cost us over 20 gold pieces.

“Do they have a monopoly on moving goods around town?” I asked Blots.  He had taken a step back from arguing with the driver.  The main problem seemed to be that we were from out of town and using a warehouse that did not pay a monthly fee to the guild.  That was driving the cost up exorbitantly.  

“No, I think.  What’s a monopoly?  They just have an exclusive license that allows them to be the sole deliverer of goods on wheels within Narwal,” replied Blots.  He was eyeing the man like a boxer getting ready for a second round.

“We didn’t have to use them when we came into town with Windfall’s goods,” I said.

Blots rolled his eyes.  “Why would we?  We weren’t moving goods between two places of business within town.  We were bringing goods into the city and taking them out on wheels.  Several of the townsfolk are also buying supplies, but, since they are carrying them on their backs, those items also aren’t affected by the Waggoner's License.”

“Oh,” I said, glancing at the large wooden box.  Reaching my hand under the lip, I lifted it slightly.  After testing the crate’s weight, I looked at Blots.  “Believe me.  I’ve got this.”

With that, I yanked on the wooden box until it was tilting off the wagon.  Catching it with my shoulder, I hefted it onto my back.  A modern carbon steel blade of this size from Earth probably would have weighed close to 100 lbs.  Ordinal metal was cruder, though, and weighed at least three times that. Or maybe adamant was just heavier than I first thought.  Plus, the box that the blade was stored in wasn’t exactly light. 

However, I wasn’t carrying anything else, and, due to my Hiking skill, my lifting and carrying capacity when using my back was enormous.  I checked to ensure that I was only slightly encumbered, which was good enough for a less than two block walk.

Most of the ironworkers looked shocked, but the driver just frowned.  “I’ll be reporting you.”

“I’m not using any wheels.  That’s all that matters,” I stated and turned to leave.  My awesome display of manliness was hardly marred at all by the low ceiling at the door I’d chosen to exit from.  Where there is a will, there is a way.

●                    You have gained the skill, Limbo.  You are unskilled.  How low can you go?

Chapter 7: An Ambush at the Gate

Strangely, no one bothered me as I strode through the city carrying my massive crate.  That made the trip fairly quick.  With Blots trailing behind me, it only took us 5 minutes to cross the distance between the Iron Works and the warehouse that was being used to store the caravan.  I was going to have to carry enormously heavy crates with me wherever I went as a sort of fast pass. 

“I’m glad we decided to be cheap now,” I stated as we entered the normally unused warehouse. 

Blots nodded.  I had originally been willing to pay the fee to just store the wagons at the castle overnight.  Doing that would have meant also coming up with accommodations for all my men.  Lord Dookie was many things, including a money grubbing noble.  He had set the rates. For the wagons and all my entourage, I would have been out nearly eight gold.  Renting the unused warehouse for a month had cost less than half that. 

Empty warehouses were a sure sign of a faltering economy.  Narwal wasn’t looking good right now.

“They destroyed Basstown.  That was the last major town between here and the border with HarCharles.  There is the great Canyon Fort, but that’s all.  Narwal might be attacked soon,” stated Blots somberly.  He had apparently confirmed my news from last night and found out a bit more to impress me. 

That was problematic for me for several reasons.  For one, no one wanted a war being fought right outside their front door.  Additionally, no one wanted war for their trading partners.  Windfall’s trade would suffer if Narwal was attacked.  My other reason was far more personal.  I just didn’t want to see Narwal get destroyed.  I knew people here, and it just seemed wrong.

After carefully placing my crate on the lead wagon, I did a quick headcount to ensure that everyone who was coming back was present.  I was handed several notes from residents who were staying until the next caravan arrived, as well as one from Sir Dalton.  His note stated that he had our supplies and would be meeting us outside the north gate.

“Blots, do you want me to take Voan with me?” I asked.  She was the little girl I’d found on my first trip to Narwal.  I had more or less foisted her off on Blots, and he had been caring for her in her mother’s stead. 

He considered for a moment and then shrugged. “That’s probably for the best, but, I’ll admit, I’ve gotten used to having her around.”  With that Blots vanished, promising to meet me at the north gate.  With him walking and us trying to maneuver a procession of wagons through crowded streets, I had no doubt he’d beat us there.

All in all, the dozens of minor tasks that were required to get the caravan moving took most of the morning.  We left the warehouse just before noon, using Windfall’s guards to shield the wagons as we departed.  Slogging through the overly crowded streets took every bit as long as I feared.  A walk that should have taken no more than ten minutes took the better part of half an hour. 

I found Blots and Voan at the gate.  Both of them seemed depressed.  I half wondered if perhaps I should leave Voan with Blots, but another fight broke out behind me.  Someone had found a rat, and those were good eating. 

“Hello, Mr Mayor,” said Voan as I knelt in front of her.  She looked slightly less haunted than she had before, but that could have been the fact that she was now eating regularly. 

“Hello Voan,” I greeted.  “Would you like to come with me?” I asked.  I felt it was important for her to have some agency in her life.

She looked at Blots and then at the ground and sniffled.  “No, I want to stay here, in case my mother shows up.  Blots doesn’t think she will.  Grebthar Day is coming, though, and I told him I would ask to bring her back to me.”

I looked at Shart.  “Grebthar Day?”

“Doesn’t earth have a holiday to celebrate the birthday of some guy who died and came back three days later?” asked Shart.  “We have pretty much the same thing here, except Grebthar came back fifteen times.”

I punched Shart clean off my shoulder. 

“Well, we’ll see what Grebthar can do,” I stated, hoping that I understood the cosmology of this world well enough.  I did not.

Voan looked at me for a moment and giggled. “No, Silly!  Badgelor brings the gifts, not Grebthar.”

“Of course,” I said.  Badgelor was named after Santa Claus and I was named after Spot the puppy.  Life was not fair.

“Where is Badgelor?” she asked, looking around.

“He went into the forest to protect a friend of mine,” I said after a moment.  Voan got a very contemplative look about her. 

In the end, the little girl decided to come with me.  She reasoned that Badgelor would find her easier on Grebthar Day, seeing as he was my companion and all.  I didn’t want to point out to her that that was probably not going to work.  She would be safer in Windfall than Narwal, so I shelved the topic for later.  I gently picked Voan up and placed her next to one of the drivers, and we continued out of the city. 

Fortunately, there were no lines or checks to exit the city.  The road led to a small clearing where Sir Dalton was waiting.  Next to him stood two large wagons full of crates. . .and sixty people.

“You got played,” smirked Shart.

I made my face go impassive and walked toward Sir Dalton.  The Knight dismounted as I approached.  I glanced at the refugees that he was trying to stick me with.  Most of them weren’t even of working age, and a preponderance of them were women and girls.  I didn’t care so much about the male to female ratio, only that they were, for the most part, quite young. On Ordinal, there wasn’t a significant gender disparity.  Pound for pound, women were as strong as men, though they still tended to be smaller. 

“Hail, Mr Mayor,” stated Sir Dalton, for once not using my given name.  He walked over to me.

“Hail, Sir Dalton,” I replied as we clasped wrists.  “Let’s start with the wagons.”

Sir Dalton nodded and walked me over to the crates.  One whole wagon was filled with boxes from the various blacksmiths and iron workers of Narwal.  I checked one of the larger containers, finding it to be jam-packed with farming implements.  Each tool appeared to be well made and ready for transport.  Then, another crate caught my eye.  It was different from all the rest, bearing marks that I did not recognize.

“Are those the blueprints?” I asked.

“Yes, those are the blueprints you requested,” replied Sir Dalton.  “However, I have seen fit to include one more for a less Spartan communal house.”

Less Spartan?

“Well, I’m sure the new residents will appreciate it,” I stated, looking over my potential new townsfolk.  “Speaking of new residents, I seem to recall saying that I would accept fifty.

“I need you to take the extra ten,” said Sir Dalton.  It looked like he was chewing gravel.  I was about to refuse when he cleared his throat and continued.  “I would, ahem, consider it a personal favor.”  The Knight refused to meet my gaze.

Taking a second, harder look at the refugees, I noticed some details.  There were two distinct groups.  Rather, there was one small distinct group and a cluster of other people.  The smaller group was made of ten older girls, or maybe young women.  They were the ones that knocked the group’s gender balance askew.  These ten were wearing cloaks of various colors, all a thicker, nicer material than what the other refugees were clothed in. 

“They yours?” I asked after a moment. 

“Yes,” bit out Dalton, still refusing to look at me.  “They worked at my estate, but there is simply no more work left.  I cannot…” he trailed off, sighing.  “I cannot afford the bribes to send them south.  I have provided a significant amount of supplies for them on one of the wagons.  They are hard workers.”

“And you think I’ll just take them?” I asked.

“Yes,” replied Sir Dalton with a smirk.  I would have found it insulting, if it didn’t look like he was also hating every word he was having to say.  “Everyone knows how noble and good the mayor of Windfall is.  He’ll always help women and children.  Word has it that that is how his town became incorporated.”

“I don’t think I actually go around advertising that,” I retorted.  “Furthermore, some of those people aren’t girls.  They are young women.”

“You’ll take them.  It's painted all over your face.  Besides I spoke to Blots’ helper when she was at the castle.  I know you picked her up off the streets when you didn’t need to.  Well, now these girls need your help,” he stated, wisely removing himself from the equation. 

“Just quit already.  I know you are going to cave.  He knows you are going to cave.  Badgelor isn’t even here, and he knows you are going to cave.  This is getting tedious,” grumbled Shart.  “We could be off leveling up, or saving the world, or going through Demon Doors.  Yet, here we stand, with you content to save a few girls.”

“I may not be saving the world, but they are going to be pretty happy about it,” I thought to Shart.  Looking toward Dalton, I nodded.  Instantly, I could see the almost invisible line of tension slip from him.  He had been desperate to ask me.

He strode boldly back to the refugees.  Several of the young women rushed up to him.  I half expected them to throw themselves at his feet or something, but his body language was positively paternal.  I had initially thought of them as a harem or some critical workforce, but, guiltily, I realized that Dalton seemed to care for them. Many of them cried, and at least one begged him to let her stay.  He was adamant, though, so they shimmied off to join the rest of the caravan.

“Thank you,” stated Sir Dalton simply.  “I will come to visit them when time allows.”

I nodded, genuinely impressed.  “I’ll ensure they are safe and well taken care of.”

The young women were far more organized than the rest of the group and quickly got themselves sorted.  We had more wagons than supplies now.  Many of the smaller children and the handful of older refugees got to sit, leaving only a few people having to walk.

“Seems Sir Dalton has a soul,” I said, glancing over at the Knight.  He stood stoically, as the group prepared to leave.  I didn’t have any more time for him, though.  With a flick of my wrist, the caravan began the journey back to Windfall.

Chapter 8: A Friendly Conversation

The trip back to Windfall was looking to be a routine one, and I was fervently hoping for such an auspicious outcome.  Sensing Badgelor, I knew he was straight down the road toward Windfall.  It was exactly where I expected him and SueLeeta to be. 

“I don’t sense anything hostile,” stated Shart as he went through the motions of his spell checks in the surrounding woods.  He had a variety of spells for detecting hostile creatures, and, after a few moments, he just shrugged.  “At least, nothing hostile that we need to worry about.  Just stay on the road and everything should be fine.”

I quickly discovered the problem with this relative safety.  With no danger, people had time to talk.  The refugees decided to start asking a bunch of questions about where they were going.  My citizens were absolutely thrilled to tell them all about Windfall.  The problem was that my name kept coming up, either as the mayor or for some heroic deed that I’d performed.  As I listened, I learned that the stories about me were getting blown epically out of proportion.  Do people seriously think I disarm traps with my face?

By the time we’d crossed into Fecking Puma Forest, still containing almost no pumas and certainly not a fecking level of pumas, people had begun to approach me.  They would introduce themselves and ask me questions.  However, I still had my game face on, because I was responsible for their safety.  I wasn’t super inclined to have a prolonged discussion at the moment. 

I had just finished speaking to Rose, one of Sir Dalton’s girls, about what they could expect in Windfall.  She had been extremely polite but very insistent.  She was adamant that they be provided decent lodging and some meaningful work.  She’d listed off a litany of skills that they possessed, which I decided must be mostly accurate.  What’s the point of lying on a resume when the boss can see the truth?  I had told Rose that they could have GowenDoud’s old home.  He certainly wasn't using it anymore.  This seemed to placate her, and she’d rejoined her group to share what she had learned.

“You could just use Lore, Dum Dum,” stated Shart.  “You know, like you have done a hundred other times.”

“I have a creepy Lore face, according to SueLeeta,” I complained.  That had been a neat revelation.  She’d actually said I looked like the ‘thirstiest sailor ever to just get off a boat after a long, long voyage’ when I used Lore.  I supposed it didn’t matter quite so much on the younger girls but using it on older men was sending some very mixed signals.  At the moment, I was trying to keep my romantic life non-existent. 

Because I am married, but I am lonely. 

I was no longer as confident in my self-control as I had been upon my arrival here.  I missed my wife terribly, but I was also all alone.  My wife would know how to handle this.  I was just winging it.  She wouldn’t want me moping around like this though, so I tried to focus on what I was doing. 

Another villager walked over to me.  His name tag read MarkyMark, causing me to chuckle.  He smiled back at me, an expression I recognized as him reading my actual name tag for the first time.  He’d seen me before, though.  For some reason, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. 

“Can I help you?” I asked.  He slowed, keeping several paces between the two of us.  I activated Lore, despite my misgivings.

●                    MarkyMark: Porter Journeyman

●                    HP: 60/60

●                    Stamina: 80/80

●                    Mana: 20/20

●                    Hiking: Journeyman

●                    Lifting: Initiate

●                    Stamina Control: Initiate

●                    Dagger: Journeyman

“Stamina Control was a skill,” I thought.  Then again, everything was a skill.  I’d have to explore my Stamina pool.  My Mana Control skill allowed me greater use of my Mana pool.

Then my brain hit on Dagger Journeyman.  Why did he have Dagger Journeyman?  I caught the edge of his lip curl into a vicious grin, and he vanished.

That’s when I felt the dagger press against my throat.

Chapter 9: A Knife in the Woods

“Who do you serve, Jim?” MarkyMark demanded in a voice that was far from jovial.  He had an evil looking dagger pressed to my throat.  His arm was passing through Shart, who looked anything but happy.

“What do you mean?” I asked.  He pressed the dagger more fiercely into my throat.  I had a perk that made my skin much harder than leather, but the dagger was ignoring it.  I felt a line of hot blood roll down my throat.  If that was the only perk I’d had for defense, I would have been right screwed.  Thankfully, I’d leveled up recently.

“He’s an Assassin, Jim,” cried Shart, who was almost apoplectic with terror at the thought of my death and his terrible inconvenience.  It was nice that he cared how much trouble my death would cause him. 

Assassin, like Adventurer, was a subclass of Rogue.  Unlike Adventurer, which was basically an exploration and tomb raiding class, Assassin was just about murdering.  This particular Assassin was just about murdering fools who were stupid enough to use Lore at point blank range.  I hadn’t so much walked into this as I had put my head into a bear trap and started playing with the springs.

“Which king do you serve, Mayor of Windfall?” growled the Assassin.

“Windfall serves no king,” I ground out.  While it was the true answer, it was still the wrong answer.   I doubted very much that there was a right answer.  Many things happened all at once. 

The Assassin attempted to slit my throat, but he had a number of factors working against him.  Most damage on Ordinal was generic, non-typed damage.  I was extremely resistant against those types, so, of course, the Assassin had smartly invested his perks.  He didn't do any store brand damage.   Unfortunately, after basic damage, there were more advanced types of damage.  These included Piercing, Bludgeoning, and Slashing, to name a few.  Beyond that, there was even more advanced damage, like Puncturing, Crushing, and Severing.  The dagger across my throat was doing a combination of Slashing and Severing Damage. 

I wasn’t completely defenseless against advanced damage.  I had my Mitigate skill, which allowed me to trade Stamina for the ability to ignore some damage.  More importantly, I’d found out that I could use my Stamina to convert higher damage types down to lower damage types.  This was important because, while it took nearly 20 points of Slashing Damage to seriously compromise a limb, it only took 5-10 points of Severing Damage to do the same.  I’d found that out the hard way with my hand.  It took far less to remove smaller bits of your body.

After the Battle for Windfall, I’d leveled up several times, eager to stop having body parts removed.  With that in mind, I’d reviewed my Duelist perks and had selected accordingly.  Since I was using my other classes for offensive power, and I had the Duelist Talents to use for combat, I could afford to dump nearly everything into Damage Mitigation tanking.  Making myself invulnerable sounded like an improvement over my previous brutal injuries.  I’d taken Iron Bones, which reduced the effectiveness of Severing Damage, Impervious Hide, which reduced Puncturing Damage, and Resilient Organs, which reduced Crushing Damage. 

Each of those halved the effects of their respective damage types.  To get a bleed effect, I’d need to take much more damage than I normally took. Unfortunately, none of that reduced the base damage that I’d take.  Still, what I did take would be far less effective at disabling me. 

Overall, that meant the dagger that should have cut my throat instead only gave me a terribly deep gash across it. 

●                    You have suffered 58 points of damage from Death Attack.  You have suffered a bleed effect:  10 hp/second for 20 seconds (reduced from 60 seconds).  Severing: critical (bleed out, suffer 100 hp/second until death) mitigated.

●                    HP: 562/620

In response, I’d slammed my head back into the Assassin’s face for a miserly 9 points of Damage.  I just kept going, throwing all my weight into him, intending to smash him into the ground.  That didn’t happen.  He fell but, as I attempted to land on him, he slid out of the way.  He spiritedly hopped back to his feet, almost before I realized what was happening.  He moved to strike me, but my Mobility kicked in.  It allowed me to roll back to my feet, causing him a moment of consternation. 

The amount of blood fountaining from my neck was at Fist of the North Star levels of carnage.  The Assassin’s name now read BruMorris.  He was grinning like a madman, watching blood saturate my face and armor. The grin faded as the red squirts stopped.  My OverHealing pool kicked in, acting like a burst of speedy regeneration.  It first stopped the bleed effect, and then started working on my damage.

“You are a tough bastard,” grinned BruMorris after a moment.  “No one has ever survived my Death Attack before.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” I coughed out.  His dagger hadn’t quite pierced my windpipe, but it had been a close thing.  Reaching for my sword, I found an empty scabbard.  “You stole my sword?  Dick move!”

He grinned.  “I do so love the expressions of you fighter types when you realize that you only have your trusty daggers for defense,” replied BruMorris. 

Grumbling, I reached for my daggers, only to discover that they were missing, too.  BruMorris just laughed.  “Ye, gods, you thought I was serious?  No, fool, I took all of your weapons.”

“Well, I think I’ll be okay.  When my troops see the giant trail of blood, they will rush over to kill you,” I commented.

“You’ve never been assassinated before have you boyyo?” chuckled BruMorris.  “Take a peek behind you.  You’ll see what I mean.”

I twisted my head to check, and the Assassin sprung forward, his dagger seeking my vitals.  It had been too obvious a setup; I was already dodging backward.  When he came at me again, I avoided a quick succession of three strikes with his dagger.  He was becoming more desperate with every thrust to put my insides on the outside.   

“Shart, why is no one helping me?” I grunted, dodging another strike. 

“He’s using Assassin powers on you.  Probably the Kill in the Open perk, which makes it look like you and he are just having a jovial conversation.  No one would see any reason to interfere,” explained Shart, his voice edged with concern.  It was strange to hear him explain anything to me without at least a little condescension in his nasally voice.  In my dodging around, I did get a glance at the caravan.  It had stopped and appeared to be taking a short goddamned break while I was fighting for my life with the Assassin. 

I had been keeping the fight away from them, but the refugees had actually moved off to the side a bit.  That gave me clear access to one of the guards.  I’d just take his sword and kill this asshole.  As I moved toward the wagons, my hand brushed against an invisible barrier.  I was forced to dodge sideways, narrowly avoiding one of the assassin’s strikes.

He had made another series of three, so it was not an ideal situation. 

“Shart, why is there an invisible barrier around me?” I exclaimed.

“You’ve never been assassinated before, have you, Dum Dum?” exclaimed Shart.  “It's like a duel, except only one person has to initiate it. Oh, and the other gets to die.  If you can outlast him, the assassination attempt will end in failure.  It looks like you might be able to run out the clock.”

I switched over to magic, shooting a Fire Bolt at him.  It was about as effective as you’d expect, considering I was casting a spell from close range at a moving target.  As I raised my hand to cast again, BruMorris landed a strike.  He sliced down to the bone with a sickening, scraping noise.

“If you aren’t even going to try, darling, I can just gut you now,” he chuckled.  I couldn’t hit him.  He was too fast, and Fire Bolt actually required me to directly aim the spell at him.  I did have another spell, one that was far easier to aim.  Damn it.

“Well, then, it's time for you to experience real magic,” I growled.  As a Mage, I was super specialized in my initial class of magic, a legendary power of utmost greatness.  In fact, I was probably the only Mage on Ordinal that specialized in it, for good reason.  I spoke the word of power, “Hoopie!”

The greenish field was a targeted spell.  Unlike Fire Bolt, which I had to aim at a specific target, I only needed to name the target for my most powerful magic.  When I cast it, the spell rushed toward its target unerringly, despite attempts at dodging it. 

As the spell hit BruMorris, it overcame his resistance.  He doubled over.  He groaned and clutched at his gut, until the spell finally worked its magic.  BruMorris proceed to rip an enormously powerful fart.  It was so powerful that he actually shot forward a step or two. 

After the disgusting spectacle, his head snapped up.  “You bitch, I’ll…”

I grabbed his knife hand by the wrist and twisted harshly.  He grunted, attempting to drop the weapon to his other hand.  As he did so, I yanked him toward me, causing the blade to slip through his fingers.  He began to earnestly struggle, to no effect. 

I’d found that some perks had effects that worked well outside their listed benefits.  My Sword Master perk, for example, made it very challenging to disarm me.  It accomplished this by giving me a grip that could crack walnuts.  I was using that on my Assassin friend now, and I could feel the bones in his wrist begin to grind together. 

He dove for the knife again, but I was stronger than him.  I dragged him away from the blade.  When he realized that the weapon was unavailable, he went for his second-best dagger.  Unfortunately for him, I implemented my fabulously complicated plan.

I started spinning him around. 

“What are you doing?” asked Shart after the third rotation.  The little red blob was gently vibrating on my shoulder as we twirled.

“Just wait.  This will be hilarious,” I stated.  We all continued spinning faster and faster.  By the fifth rotation, I was moving so fast that his feet left the ground.  By the eighth, I was spinning so fast that I was having trouble maintaining my grip.  I was pretty sure he was taking some damage to his wrist from the pressure.

“What is your plan here?” BruMorris shouted.  “As soon as you release me, I’ll just land on my feet.  I will come back at you.”

So, I obliged him and let go.  He sailed majestically into the air, revolving several times before coming to rest many logs away.  He looked like some frantic, airborne ballerina.  I like to imagine that he had some sort of brilliant plan to come back at me after he landed. 

Splat.

He’d forgotten about the invisible wall.  I didn’t quite understand the need for an invisible wall as a function of an assassination attempt, but I knew it was solid.  It had certainly kept me from reaching out to my guard, just as it was keeping BruMorris from charging me now.

“I’m pretty sure legs aren’t supposed to bend that way,” said Shart, as BruMorris slid down the wall.  I shuddered.  It sounded like a wet finger sliding down a window. 

“Who sent you?” I yelled, as he continued to slide down.  His Health bar wasn’t at zero.  Chances were good that he was still conscious.  

“Fuck you,” he croaked.  The assassination finally timed out, and the invisible wall vanished.  BruMorris fell the remaining few feet into the dirt.  I picked up his dagger and walked over to him.   

I slammed my foot down hard on his closed hand, causing the man to scream.  I was pretty sure I’d just broken all the fingers on that hand.  “I’m done being nice.  Who sent you?  You can tell me, or I can test out my Torture skill.”

Intimidate vs BruMorris.  Your check has been successful.  BruMorris is cowed for the next 12 seconds.

BruMorris whitened.  “I work for the true king, HarCharles.  I was sent here to kill Lord Dookie, but his defenses are rather robust.  Imagine my luck when I was told that you were also a target.  I figured I’d get some quick experience for killing you.”

“How’s that working out for you?” I questioned.  I continued to grind down as hard as I could on his hand. 

By now, several of my guards were running over.  Whatever magic the Assassin had used to make this look like a harmless conversation was dissipating.  Now, it almost looked like I was standing overtop a badly injured man, except that I was covered with large bloody wounds myself.

“Mr. Mayor!” cried the first one as he saw me.  His questioning look instantly twisting into one of fury as he glared down at the screaming man below.  I removed my foot, and two of the guards pulled the Assassin to his feet. 

“Where is HarCharles’ army?” I growled.

Intimidate vs BruMorris.  Your check has failed.  BruMorris is immune to intimidation for the next 5 minutes.

BruMorris had managed to gather himself.  He glared defiantly at me.  “It's close enough to doom you.  Let me go, so that I might put in a good word.”

“It's moved from Basstown to here so quickly,” I said, acting like I was considering his offer.  The refugees from Basstown had just gotten to the valley, so the army might be right on their heels.  I decided that the odds of that were not great.  After HarCharles’ army consolidated at Basstown, TimSimons had a garrison well north of Narwal to break through.  I doubted logistics were so different here that moving a massive army through swamps was a good alternative to having them walk down a major road.  He was bluffing.

While I was talking to BruMorris, my men were searching him.  They found my daggers, but he had apparently stashed my sword on one of the wagons.  His skill at Pickpocketing was not so great that he could steal my armor, and I’d tucked most of my portable wealth into the bag of holding that was Shart when I’d left Narwal.

“If you are going to lie to my face, at least pick a believable one,” I responded, after I re-sheathed my sword.  “My only question now is, what to do with you?”

Killing someone in cold blood was inherently distasteful to me.  Plus, I might be able to get more information out of him later.  On the other hand, he had tried to assassinate me.  I doubted anyone would complain if I cleaved his head off. 

“I’ll escape when your back is turned,” he stated, glaring at me.  “Then, when you least expect it, I’ll find you.”

“You’ll escape whenever my back is turned, eh?” I replied.

Chapter 10: A New Hope

“For the love of the nine Gods, how many knots do you know?” groaned BruMorris.  The wagon bobbed up and down, shaking him precariously. 

“Hmm?” I replied.  “What was that?  I’m just sitting here with my back to you, not expecting anything.  Just enjoying life, you know?”

That sounded far more conceited than it was.  Sure, it seemed that I was sitting there, trusting in my knots to keep the terrible Assassin in line.  However, I didn’t have a death wish.  I was cheating.

“He’s still struggling,” stated Shart, “but the ropes are totally not budging.  It doesn’t hurt that his dominant hand is ruined, and you cut off circulation to his other hand.” 

Shart’s invisibility and intangibility meant that no one, other than Badgelor and me, could see him.  Additionally, Shart’s timescale was different.  Even if he paid only a tiny fraction of his attention to BruMorris, he’d notice conspicuous behavior much faster than a normal guard would.  Also, I’d used so much rope. 

It didn’t take 200 feet of rope to tie a person up but, if you have it laying around, why not?  I was pretty sure that I’d tied him up so tightly that the Assassin couldn’t even go to the bathroom.  I did not mean he just wouldn’t be able to get into position, either.  I had him trussed up like a turkey. 

And Badgelor was hungry.

“Wow, Jim,” stated SueLeeta.  She’d had a moment to examine my handiwork with the rope.  “Remind me to never tell OttoSherman about your hobbies.  He’ll get jealous.”

He’d want some pointers.

SueLeeta had found me shortly after the assassination attempt.  To my surprise, Badgelor was not with her.  I wasn’t concerned, though.  My Beast Master senses placed him northeast of me.  He had decided to go cross country for whatever reason.  He still seemed to be headed to the Western Gate Fortress, so I let it go.

I’d done some digging regarding how the Assassin had infiltrated our caravan.  He had to have camouflaged himself with the other refugees and waited for his opportunity to strike.  When we’d stopped briefly for a break, he’d made his move. 

“We are at exactly sixty refugees presently, and I personally counted everyone who was in the caravan before we left,” I stated to Shart.

“I saw you using your fingers and your toes,” responded the bored demon.

“I came out to exactly sixty refugees.  In fact, all my numbers for everyone in the caravan matched exactly,” I continued, thinking back.  I had counted everyone personally and checked them against my War Leader talent.  I knew that the caravan had been at just the right count.

“He’s an Assassin!  He wouldn’t show up in the normal count,” stated Shart.

“Please explain that,” I replied.

Shart looked at me like I was an idiot for a good few moments before sighing.  “Earth has totally ruined you.  Look, if your numbers were off, an Assassin would be easy to spot.  You would immediately be on alert and could effectively avoid them.  It's easier for an Assassin to just not show up on any of your official lists.  If someone has the right perks, your eyes will just slide right over them.”

“I figured he had killed one of the other refugees, or pretended to be someone else,” I stated. “You know, like a disguise?”

“An Assassin kill a refugee? Did you suffer a brain injury?” questioned Shart with a laugh.  “You know those refugees are worth around zero experience points.  All he’d earn is some damage to his Weapon Durability.  He’s not going to kill someone else and reduce his quest experience.  Assassins typically take contracts where they only go after a specific target.  The fact that you are an adventurer makes you a worthwhile target in your own right, so he chose to attack you.”

“How does me being an adventurer let him off the hook?” I asked.  I flipped through a few of my quests while Shart was talking.  I found one to ensure that all the refugees got to Windfall safely.  It was worth only a trivial amount of experience points to me; it hadn’t even popped up when I’d gotten it.  I did see where I would get substantial reductions from losing even a single refugee.  However, after that first loss, the reductions became less significant on a person to person basis. 

“You aren’t a quest target.  He just tried to get you as a target of opportunity,” replied Shart. “Assassination quests always target a person.  They have penalties associated for killing other people in pursuit of the quest.  Some Assassins kill extra people anyway, because it's too hard to get at the main target alone.  That, or because those extra kills are worth enough experience to offset the loss of quest experience.”

“Most normal people aren’t worth many experience points,” I said, finally getting it.  If you had to kill a squad of soldiers, you’d probably get enough experience to offset the loss to the quest experience you just suffered.  Killing a bunch of refugees would be a massive net loss, though. 

So, their survival rested on them being worth negative experience.  That’s not gonna look good on a resume. 

We continued toward the Western Gate Fortress, finally breaking out of the forest.  SueLeeta had done some more ranging, but she hadn’t located a single hungry puma around the wagons.  Without the Life Energy-infused mother puma, the remainder of the cats had scattered.  They were still out there, at far more manageable levels.  They tended to avoid the road.  Badgelor is going to be hungry...and angry. 

The Western Gate Fortress stood open to us. I was still impressed by the massive sturdy gate.  It was around a foot thick and made of some kind of wood that didn’t mark easily.  Even if the wood did become marred or scratched, it seemed to heal itself overnight. 

I had decided to ride in the wagon for the last bit of the journey.  Voan had taken ruthless advantage of that and curled up next to me on the driver’s bench.  She was asleep by the time the wagon came to rest in the courtyard, and I carefully shimmied myself away without waking her.  I was just thinking that the day was looking good, aside from an odd assassination attempt, which I was not going to let ruin things.  Then, I saw Badgelor.

And another twenty refugees. 

Badgelor swaggered over to me, an impressive trick for a badger.  He grinned while speaking boastfully, “Well there lad, I figured you would take a bit, and I was in dire need of amusement.  I found these poor people that had been captured by bandits, and I rescued them.”

I blinked, looking down at my badger.  He was covered in burns and scratches, evidence of some pretty bad combat.  “I take it that went well?”

“Pretty well.  Those bandits didn’t want to give them up, but they learned.  I showed them not to mess with the Lord of the Badgers,” continued Badgelor, standing on his hind legs.  A glance at his chest revealed some terrible burns, more severe than any other marks on him. 

“Do you want a healing potion?” I said, looking down at him with wide eyes.

Badgelor waved behind him and then turned back to me, speaking quietly and quickly, “Oh gods, yes!  One of the wee little ones speaks passable Badger, and she’s convinced I can walk on water.”

“Oh,” I said, deftly handing him a healing potion.  He ate it whole, including the glass vial that it was stored in.

“I can’t do that for at least three more levels,” replied the badger, looking bothered.  “If she figures it out, it will be hell for my reputation.”

By this time, Badgelor’s refugees had sorted themselves.  Two of them were walking toward us.  An older woman, head held high, walked with a good degree of dignity for someone who had recently been a hostage.  With her was one of the children.  The little girl was beaming at Badgelor.

“I take it you are Jim,” stated the stately older woman.  “I am DorMaude.  I appreciate the help your badger has given us.”

“This is Badgelor,” stated the girl, whose name I noticed was Grace.  “I prayed to Grebthar, and he sent Badgelor to save us.”

I looked down at my badger, my eyebrows raised almost to my hairline.  “From her prayers?”

Badgelor had the good grace to look sheepish, “Well, I am Lord of the Badgers.”

Shart chuckled on my shoulder.  The little girl suddenly looked up at me.  For a brief moment, I thought she looked shocked.  I heard a strangled gasp and felt a pop as Shart vanished. 

“Well Badgelor loves helping children,” I said.  It was the first empty platitude I could think of. 

“See,” she said, glancing over to the older woman.  The woman, perhaps the girl’s grandmother, just sighed.

“Tell this girl that your badger isn’t Badgelor,” said the older woman.

“Well he is,” I replied, gesturing at the name tag floating above Badgelor’s head.

“I mean, tell her he isn’t Grebthar’s companion, Badgelor, from a thousand years ago,” DorMaude continued.  “Grace has convinced herself that he’s Badgelor in the flesh, come to find the great hero and save the world again.”

I glared at my little badger.  He walked over to DorMaude and snorted loudly.  He then stormed off, his dignity affronted.  Grace looked like she was going to run after him, but she was currently too busy glaring at me and her guardian. 

I got down on one knee, putting me at head level with her.  “I’m sorry little one.  That’s just my companion, Badgelor.  He’s neat, but I doubt he’s any sort of legendary creature.  Additionally, the one he found is me.  I’m not sure anyone would call me a great hero.”

“But,” was all she could say.  Her lip began to tremble.  I was about to make a little girl cry and that was going to ruin my day.  Strange how that worried me more than the assassination attempt. 

“He’s a very nice and helpful badger, though” I lied, while I continued grasping at straws, “He saved me once when I was injured.  I had fallen into a deep trap, in some pitch-black cave.  Lucky for me, Badgelor was there.  He saved my life.”

You hear the word “facepalm” all the time.  What you don’t normally get is the actual slapping sound when you aggravate someone enough that they go all in.  I looked up wide-eyed at the older woman.  DorMaude was now actively growling, her face buried in her hands.  Grace’s eyes were shining.

“Just like in the stories,” she murmured.

“Badgelor said he was good friends with the mayor,” stated the woman after a long moment.

“That would be me,” I replied.

DorMaude looked at me evenly for another long moment.  “Fine.  I’ll play along, Mr Mayor.  I’m an innkeeper by trade.  Badgelor indicated that you had an inn that needed a keeper.”

“I sure do,” I stated, eager to end this conversation.  I couldn’t avoid putting my foot straight into the rather large hole I was digging.  “The job is all yours.  I’ll set it up now.”

“I’d like to rent the inn,” she countered, pulling out a small sack from a creaky, old crevice that no bandit would dare search.  It jingled pleasantly when she shook it.  It smelled...not quite as pleasant.  Kind of like EstherSasha’s cooking.

“I’ll find you lodgings,” I began.

“No, I mean I want to rent the inn and run it, like a private business,” continued DorMaude. 

That was new.  I wasn’t used to people coming to Windfall with much more than the clothes on their backs.  Now, I had a guy building a boat, and a woman who wanted to rent the inn.  I considered it.  If I let her rent the place, I’d collect rent for the town.  However, I wouldn’t get to collect all the small incidental coin we’d otherwise earn from each individual transaction. 

Right now, the inn was being managed by citizens in the employ of the town.  That meant that Windfall collected all the profits, but we also had all the management responsibilities for the inn.  The inn was becoming more profitable by the day, as more coin ended up in the town.  Still, for the town to collect any gold from the inn, it required some of Mar’s time.  Time that could be spent ensuring that the mine was running efficiently. 

Basically, I’d have lower risk but would also make less money.  I considered that for a moment.  Windfall was not like a contemporary American city, to be sure.  The overwhelming majority of people in town actually worked for the town, performing various duties.  A large chunk of the population worked to support the mine and the smelters.  This meant that Mar spent a great deal of his time overseeing iron production.  I doubted that he really wanted to pay attention to an inn, especially considering that the inn would never be responsible for the lion's share of our economy. 

Mentally, I shrugged.   Maybe letting some people rent in town was a good idea, after all.  I’d keep the core industries under the town but let the supporting businesses self-manage.  It would make both Mar’s and my life easier. 

Of course, that led to another question.  What to charge for rent?  Thankfully, that was easily found in the town interface.  The inn was worth 15 gold pieces a month in rent.  It was Ordinal, so I’m sure DorMaude already knew that.  I told her, anyway.

DorMaude looked at me for an instant, before mentally accepting the rental agreement.  I realized, belatedly, that she had been reading a prompt.  Yet one more thing that I was still trying to adjust to.  She waited for an uncomfortably silent minute, before putting her pouch away.  I was about to protest, but my brain kicked in.  I checked the town menu and saw that the gold had been deposited. 

A payment to the town wouldn’t need a bank.  I thought.  That seemed to be the strange rules anyway. Embezzlement must be tricky on Ordinal.  I tried to think of any ways to circumvent all the built-in security procedures here.

●                    You have learned about the skill Embezzling.  It is a sub skill of Administration.  You are unskilled.  One for you, two for me.

Of course, it was a skill.  Why am I even surprised?  I saw that the town prompts had been modified.  With Embezzling, I could now keep just over a silver piece from the rent, without the variance showing up in the town ledger.  I didn’t, of course, but I could. 

“Looking forward to seeing the town, Mr. Mayor,” DorMaude smiled.  She glanced up at my name tag and froze. “Oh, I thought the badger was joking.  You poor man.”

I shook her hand impassively.  I was used to this by now. 

DorMaude smiled again.  She looked to where the latest crowd of refugees had gathered away from the carts.  For the first time, her shoulders sagged, and an unreadable expression came over her.  Voan came to groggily stand next to me.  She grabbed my hand reflexively. 

I turned to look at her as she wiped the sleep from her eyes.  “Badgelor woke me up.”

Before I could reply, I heard DorMaude gasp.  Her head spun to look at Voan, eyes wide in shock.  Voan had looked up at the sound of gasping.  She promptly released my hand.  “Gram! Gram!” 

In a moment, both were fiercely embracing.  The rigidly strong woman was wracked with sobs.  “I thought you were dead.  I thought you were all dead.”

Voan was well beyond coherent speech at this point.  I backed off a pace to stand next to Badgelor.  He was looking less pleased with himself than I would have expected. 

“It’s a Grebthar Day miracle,” shrieked Grace, as she watched Voan and DorMaude hug.

“You humans all smell.  These two smell close enough that I could tell they were family,” explained the badger.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” I replied, thinking back to when I first met Voan in Narwal. 

“Shart was talking about it once.  He was considering it from a technical perspective.  How difficult the spell would be to cast, or some nonsense.  I told him my old nose would do just fine,” grinned the badger.  “I’m going to enjoy telling the daft bugger about it.”

DorMaude turned to face me, still gripping Voan.  “I don’t know what to say!  Thank you!”

“You don’t need to thank me,” I said, glancing down at my very smug badger.  DorMaude’s eyes flashed, as she stared at Badgelor.  He lifted his nose and pranced away. 

“It's a Grebthar Day miracle,” DorMaude said.  “Maybe…could he be?”

Suddenly, the brightness in the old lady’s eyes changed.  She gasped and sputtered and began to clutch at her chest.  I called for SueLeeta, as DorMaude fell to her knees. 

SueLeeta came charging over.  “What is it, Jim?”

I gestured to the woman.  SueLeeta took one look at her and sent Grace and Voan away.  Badgelor wondered back over and sniffed.  “Uh oh.”

“Uh oh?” I questioned.  The badger’s eyes were wide.

“Is there a healer here?” screamed SueLeeta.  None of the refugees responded.  “Is there anyone with any healing experience at all?”

DorMaude had fallen over and was going a worrying shade of blue.  She was still clutching her chest.

“Don’t you have any more vials of anything?” I asked SueLeeta.

“Do you really think that simple healroot is gonna fix this?” screamed the Hunter.

DorMaude’s eyes closed as she mumbled something.  I crouched and leaned my ear to her mouth.  “Voan. . .take good care of my Voan.”  Her hands left her chest and fell limply to her side. 

Badgelor sniffed again.  “Uh oh.”

“Stop that.” I said harshly.  I looked at the crowd of refugees.  Most of them stood, blocking this somber scene from the children.

Shart popped back.  “What the hell is going on?  I sensed a great disturbance in our bond.”

He followed my gaze to DorMaude.  “Who is that?”

“Voan’s grandmother,” I answered.

“Damn, the badger found her?  Good for you, I guess,” he congratulated my animal companion.  “I mean, couldn’t you have found her a little earlier?  Maybe, before she was on her deathbed?”

SueLeeta was pounding on the old woman’s chest.  She looked up at me desperately, but I couldn’t think of a single thing to do.  I shrugged my shoulders, and SueLeeta carried on. 

“Oh, no,” said Badgelor.

“Oh, no, what?” I asked.

“She’s gone, Jim,” Shart replied. 

“She’s dead?” I asked.

“As dead as OttoSherman’s chastity,” replied Badgelor.

SueLeeta stood up and walked over to me.  “I guess the excitement of finding Voan was just too much for her.  Her heart couldn’t take it.  I’m going to find something to cover her with.  You need to go talk to Voan. 

Feck.

Chapter 11: One Grandma Later

I dragged my feet as I walked across the courtyard.  The refugees parted, letting me pass through to where all the children had been corralled.  Voan sat in the middle of the group.  Another older woman sat with her, trying to comfort her.  When the girl saw me, she jumped up and ran to me.

‘Is Gram okay?” Voan asked me.  Her eyes shimmered with tears.  I didn’t think I had ever seen a child’s cheeks so red and wet before.

“No, wee little one,” Badgelor responded.  “She kicked the proverbial bucket and kicked it hard.”

I shot a disapproving look at the badger.

“I’m afraid not, Voan,” I answered, as gently as I could.

Voan burst into tears and hugged me.  I could feel snot permeating my armor, but I held the little girl as tightly as I dared.  Grace came running over.  As she passed, she pet Badgelor on his furry head.  Grace embraced Voan from behind and smoothed the other girl’s hair. 

“It’s okay,” Grace reassured.  “She died knowing you were alive and well.  She died happy.  Now, she gets to dance naked in the Great Badger Parade for all eternity.”

Shart snorted.  I looked at Badgelor horrified.  “I guess they must be Reformation Grebtharians,” he shrugged.

“Voan, you are still safe,” I reassured.  “You are still coming with me to Windfall, and you are still going to be taken care of.  I am going to try to get Blots to join us, so you can have another friend in town.”

“Look out, Blots,” Shart said.  “You’re next.”

I slapped Shart and handed Voan off to the older woman in the circle, absentmindedly noting that her name was RueVivian.  “I need to go take care of some business now, Voan, but you are safe.  I’m so very sorry this happened.”

I turned and walked quickly away.  “Holy hell,” I sighed.  “That reunion could not have gone worse.”

“Well, reunions are notorious for sucking,” Badgelor said. 

Shart nodded.  “On that, we can agree.  Nothing is ever like you thought you remembered it.  It’s all a bit of a disappointment.”

“Okay, Shart, what’s the deal with Grace?”  I asked.  Upon hearing the little badger-worshipping girl’s name, Badgelor ran back over to the children.  I could see him in the distance, settling on his back for...tummy rubs?  Okay.

Shart looked uncomfortable.  “What do you mean?”

“She gasped when you spoke to me.  I would bet money on the fact that she heard you.”

“I think she did,” Shart answered slowly.

I thought back very hard to the Rules of Shart.  “You did mention that once we got to the higher-level zones, some people would be able to see you.  Is the ability to hear you different?” I questioned.  “Does it even matter if you are noticed?”

Shart groaned.  “I keep forgetting that you don’t know anything, Dum Dum.  It matters.  Normally, I stay invisible and intangible to everyone but you.  Just doing that makes me inaudible to everyone, as well.”

“Badgelor can hear you,” I mentioned.  “And see you, too, if I am recalling correctly.”

“Badgelor scares me,” stated Shart.  He began to pout on my shoulder.  “He’s your companion; him knowing about me was to be expected.  The companion bond crosses frequencies with my bond, allowing him to hear me when I speak.  The fact that he can see me is strange, but he’s a weird badger.”

“So, you can explain away the reasons that Badgelor and higher-level people can notice you, but you didn’t expect Grace to be able to do it?” I asked.

“More or less.  By maximum level of 60, everyone can see me.  Not many people achieve nearly that high a level, though.  The trick is that there are perks, traits, and spells that will reduce the requirements to notice me.  As we wander over the world, it's going to become more common for higher level adventurers to sense me.  Some might be able to hear me; some might be able to see me.  Some adventurers may be able to do both.  It all depends on the perks, traits, and spells that a person possesses.  That might mean that the child has a trait that lets her understand, or at least hear, magical entities who are speaking.  Remember, traits are even more powerful than perks.”

“She doesn’t even have a level,” I stated, glancing over at her.  It took a few moments for Lore to activate.  I finally spotted her trait.

●                    Grace, human child

●                    HP 10/10

●                    Trait: Gift of Tongues.  This trait gives the owner perfect understanding of any language that they come into contact with.

I chuckled.  “That sounds pretty useless most of the time.”  It had never taken me more than a few minutes to figure out what anyone on Ordinal was saying. 

Shart glared at me.  “For most people, that would be a great boon.  Not everyone has Woodsman’s Lore and can pick up languages as quickly as you can.  You pick up languages faster than even other Woodsmen, due to your blasted Jack of All Trades ability.”

I rolled my eyes and continued walking.  “So, Grace heard you.”

“A little, yes.  Even with a trait for perfect understanding, you must be listening for something. She heard me as an out of context voice in her head, for only a moment or two,” replied Shart. 

“Poor girl,” chimed in Badgelor, scampering up to join us.  “You are going to live in her nightmares,” he proclaimed, scurrying up my back.  His head barely had the chance to hit my shoulder before he was asleep. 

Shart was gearing up for a full-blown rant but paused.  Realizing what had been said, the demon nodded his head proudly.  Shart would enjoy inhabiting someone’s sleep.  He snapped out of it, balled up his fists, and growled, “Yes, and I was even talking to you mentally.  You aren’t very good at mental stuff, so I have to get pretty loud.  There is more than a bit of background noise when I do it.  The girl must have picked up on it.”

“So, she heard you but only enough to suspect a presence.” I stated.  Shart nodded confidently.  We watched as Fenris unexpectedly appeared inside the courtyard.  His usual confident stride seemed a bit off.  Upon closer examination, I noticed that his eyes were both bloodshot. 

“Fenris has been drinking,” sniffed Shart.

I waved to the Warden.  He tried to adjust himself before walking over to us.  He appeared to be making a massive effort at walking in a straight line.  SueLeeta also saw Fenris and headed over, Voan and Grace in tow.  We looked like a miserably melancholy bunch.

“Mayor, what’s wrong?  You look like someone’s grandmother just died,” quipped Fenris. 

Voan exploded into a fresh wave of tears.  I dropped my head into my hands.  SueLeeta just stared at the ultra-confused Woodsman.  “What did we say about you making jokes?” she ground out.

“Oops, I did it again, didn’t I,” replied Fenris.  Voan ran off into the distance, with Grace following her. 

“Well, at least it can’t get any worse,” I said. 

“You are going to be paying for that later,” stated Shart, as the refugees began readying themselves for the trip to Windfall.   

Fenris looked over the crowd of people.  “How many more is that?”

“Well, we brought in sixty from Narwal, and Badgelor found an additional twenty.”

“You mean nineteen,” Shart helpfully corrected.  I sighed heavily.

SueLeeta continued to be just as helpful as Shart.  “Yes, but of Badgelor’s twenty, we have only nineteen, plus a dead body.”

“The grandma?” Fenris asked.

“The grandma,” SueLeeta confirmed. 

“We will have to do something about that as soon as we reach town,” Fenris said.  “We can’t be risking any zombie infections, especially with so many children around.”

SueLeeta nodded.  “Killing zombies is bad, but killing zombie children is the worst.”

Fantastic.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked Fenris.  I had expected him to be catching up with Glorious Robert, not joining us at the fortress.

The Woodsman glanced down.  “AvaSophia is a bit put out with me right now.”

SueLeeta snorted.  “I bet I can guess the reason for that.  Why haven’t you taken a hangover potion?”

“AvaSophia did not approve of my drinking.  She elected to take away my bag of herbs.  I tried to get some from Jarra the Healer, but I was not fast enough,” replied Fenris sourly.

“What a sweet soul.  I totally get what he sees in her,” stated Shart.

“AvaSophia is quick when she wants to be.  I haven’t been told anything, though,” stated SueLeeta, pulling out a small vial.  Fenris happily downed it.  His eyes, and his hangover, cleared up almost instantly. 

“Much better,” he sighed contentedly, “Glorious Robert and I had been performing a detailed survey of the area around the beach for a good launching point for his boat.”

“And drinking,” grinned SueLeeta but Fenris didn’t react. That caused SueLeeta to giggle, which was the oddest sound I’d heard from the woman.  

After she was done, Fenris looked over at me, “We ran into a stray hammock, it looked to be a danger to the citizenry, so I took care of it.”

I nodded, “Good, hammocks are evil.”

It had already been a long day, and it was only a few hours past noon.  It felt much later, and there was still so much left to do.  I just wanted to get back to town and sort out all the accommodations.  This small horde of refugees was going to totally outstrip whatever housing Windfall had available.  Fortunately, the weather had remained nice enough.  It looked like people would be camping outside again, just like the first group of refugees had. 

I noticed a flashing prompt in the corner of my vision.  I quickly brought it up

.

●                    You have earned 28 Skill Points for Trapmaking for shoddy quality spike trap.

Trapmaking?  Shoddy quality?  I hadn’t made any shoddy quality traps since I’d set up the field of traps by the grotto.  A goblin must have walked into one.  I brought up my logs and found that one of my traps had just accidentally killed a bandit. 

“Durg,” I growled.  Durg had found the grotto and was hiding there with his gang.  I had him.  All I needed to do was go get him.  I whirled around to explain the situation to Fenris and SueLeeta, only to be faced with eighty…

“Seventy-nine,” Shart corrected.

...seventy-nine refugees that I was responsible for leading to safety.

This was getting too complicated.

“DarrienGareth,” I called out to the chief guard of the Western Gate Fortress.  “Escort our caravan and these refugees back to Windfall.  EstherSasha is in charge of new citizens.  She will be able to assist you when you get them into town.”

He nodded and walked over to the wagons, yelling for them to get ready to move.  Good man.

Everything seemed to be in order.  I quickly did a check for Voan.  She was sitting on a wagon bench with Grace.  I was tempted to leave Badgelor with them for comfort, but he would be unbearable if he missed an opportunity to fight. 

It took all of five minutes to get the whole group moving.  Then, I was off, Fenris and SueLeeta hurrying after me.

Chapter 12: Bandits in the Forest

A near gale force wind swept through the forest.  Flocks of birds took to the sky from the trees’ branches as a fountain of stones clattered across gnarled trunks.  Small animals scattered as the force of nature tore through the woods.  I exploded out of the forest canopy, bow at the ready. 

I had climbed to the top of the gully in a none too silent fashion and was ready to rock.  The gully was a well defended spot.  From the angle I’d taken at its top, I would have had a strike advantage versus anyone below.  I had the high ground.

Of course, there was nothing there.  “Where are they, Shart?”

“I told you I sensed some residual energy from them.  I did not say that they were close.”

I grumbled.  When Durg and his bandits had fled from the goblin army, they had first gone to the Western Gate Fortress.  They had not realized that, by the time they got there, the fortress had already been retaken by my loyal troops.  When they discovered that they wouldn’t be making a getaway through the fortress, they had vanished. 

The bandits did not have much trouble hiding themselves.  After all, they were highly skilled and accustomed to working in a forest.  Of course, calling what the bandits did “work” was being generous.  They were robbers and murderers.

After the battle of Windfall, the goblins had scattered.  The trail to Durg’s forces had gone cold.  I’d spent the better part of the day after the battle searching for them.  Finally, after chasing down too many false leads, I’d been forced to give up. With Windfall’s barrier back at full strength, Durg’s attack options were limited.  Unfortunately, despite their losses, they still represented a powerful force. 

With a force as powerful as Durg’s, one might wonder why my party only consisted of myself, SueLeeta, and Fenris.  Well, the answer to that was quite simple.  As a high-level Woodsman, I had access to a host of abilities that would make the bandits’ lives short and miserable.  The fact that two other Woodsmen were with me was just icing on the cake.  Ultimately, we only needed to reduce Durg’s forces.  Doing so would strand him in goblin territory with a force too small to fight off the near constant attacks that he would face. 

Eventually, he would break.  Then, no more Durg.

“Hey, Dum Dum,” stated Shart, searching around with his spells, “I think they are hiding their tracks.”

“Astute observation,” I replied glumly.  “They are bandits.  One would expect them to be quite good at concealing themselves.”

I looked down to see Fenris at the front entrance of the gully.  I had formed a party which gave me a general sense of where he was and what danger he was in through my party menus.  The reverse was also true; Fenris knew that I hadn’t detected any enemies.  Even so, he was on guard. 

From this angle, I was again struck by what a broad-shouldered man Fenris was.  His hawk like nose tended to make him look even more stern than he already appeared.  Currently, his long dark hair was pulled back in a clasp, giving him the look one might expect from some ancient forest Knight of legend.  Despite his adventures with Glorious Robert last night, Fenris had followed me into the dangerous woods without question.  He watched carefully, his blade in hand and shield at the ready.  The only thing out of place about him was my badger, who had taken up residence on the Woodsman’s shoulder. 

“Wanna listen in?” asked Shart.  He was currently attached to my shoulder with a mixture of demonic magic and stuff.  I tried not to think about the stuff.

“You have a spell for eavesdropping on people?” I wondered why he hadn’t mentioned it earlier.  Then again, Shart wasn’t prone to volunteer information, unless he had what he considered to be a good reason for doing so.

“I have magic for everything,” replied Shart, focusing his will.  His spells just cast when he was good and ready, whereas mine required me to say some odd words of power before they would work.   Instantly, I could clearly hear Badgelor and Fenris.  It was like they were standing right next to me.  

“Those dumbasses haven’t seen anything.  Let's say we go in there and see if there are any heads to knock,” stated Badgelor, leaping off Fenris’ shoulder.

“Good idea.  We should protect our rear and keep our heads about us,” replied Fenris.  The strong, hard man wore an almost childlike expression whenever he conversed with the War Badger.  It was a side of the Woodsman that only his daughter and my badger were ever shown. 

“He’s almost cute when he thinks no one is watching,” I stated as Fenris started digging into his pouch.

“If you say so,” replied Shart looking down at the still mostly stone-faced Warden, “It's going to be hilarious when he finally catches on.” 

“Look into my eyes, you big, dumb ox,” growled Badgelor.  “We should just run in and murder them!”

“Yes, keep our eyes open and there’s no justice for running in, good thinking,” replied Fenris, reaching into his pack.  “Would you like a badger treat?”  Fenris quickly tossed a small piece of cooked beef.  The badger stared at it for a long moment before scarfing it down. 

“I hate you for making me do this, Charles,” the little animal grumbled.

Charles was Badgelor’s quest target.  I didn’t know who he was, but Badgelor was going to kill him and eat him.  At least, that had been Badgelor’s claim on the day I had “chosen” him for my animal companion.  Based on what I had seen from the badger so far, I wouldn’t put it past him to eat a dude.  I wasn’t sure about the killing.  Badgelor would certainly do it if possible, but I had no idea how powerful Charles was.  That made it hard to guess how successful Badgelor might be in his killing endeavor.  All I knew for certain was that when Badgelor found Charles, it was going to end poorly for one of them.

As the snacks were being handed out, SueLeeta managed to get into position on the other side of the gully.  Her long braid of auburn hair was now covered with a hood, her latest piece of gear.  She wore tight-fitting, leather armor to protect her well-muscled shoulders.  SueLeeta was much more emotional than Fenris, though the same could have been said about almost anyone.  She was tall for a woman, but she still moved gracefully as she took a firing position designed to give maximum coverage.  The thought of a woman as joyful as SueLeeta being able to fire arrows in a cold-blooded ambush of bandits was difficult to reconcile.  I had witnessed her deadly rampages in the past, and she displayed no joy while cutting her targets down.  A large hunting cat, Cat Nine, followed behind SueLeeta obediently. 

The top of the gully was all roots and strange looking trees.  Where the greenery met in the sky, the foliage appeared to close up, like some sort of otherworldly clam.  The first time I’d seen it, I’d thought that sneaking through it would be impossible.  Newfound experience and skill confirmed my earlier assessment.  It was impossible to sneak through.  So, instead of trying and failing, I climbed to the top at my highest possible speed.  By going in as loudly as I could, my presence would be known, assuming anyone was there to know it.  All attention would be pulled to me and away from Fenris and SueLeeta.

“No helping it,” I stated, looking down the fifty-foot drop to the ground below.

“What are you trying to do?” asked Shart, staring down the drop with me.  It was easy to do, if one was attached at the shoulder.

I grinned and grabbed him by the tail.  The loud squelching noise that accompanied the demon’s removal from my body caused me to visibly shudder.  Shart’s shocked expression didn’t even have time to fully register, before I leapt off the side of the cliff, Mary Poppins style. 

Shart could fly through magical effort.  All he had to do was use his magical powers to increase his buoyancy.  By holding onto his tail, I found that I could use him like a Shart Chute to slow my fall.  This reduced my terminal velocity from leg shattering to merely uncomfortable. 

●                    You have suffered 28 points of Fall Damage.  Mitigate has been used to prevent injuries: ankle sprains

Landing in a roll, my weapons were already out.  Fenris and Badgelor exploded into the southern end of the gully only a moment later.  There was absolutely nothing and no one to see us, but, damn, did we look impressive. 

“This was a big waste of time,” called the badger.  He was still walking around at knee height.  Fenris examined the gully with me for a long moment before finally sheathing his sword. 

“I think they left as soon as the trap went off,” Fenris stated.  There was little evidence that the bandits had even been here, but little evidence was sufficient for Fenris.  I noticed a slight hitch in his voice as he surveyed the area.  Up until now, I had been unsure if he would recognize it.  I had no idea what AvaSophia had told him of his family’s captivity with the goblins.  Now, given his rare show of emotion, I was positive he knew that this was where I’d saved his wife and children.

Of course, when the goblins had attacked Fenris’ caravan, he couldn’t have done anything to stop them.  Him and his fellow villagers were outgunned, outmanned, outnumbered, and perhaps out planned.  I’m not really sure on the last one.  Goblins are dumb, to be sure.  However, I had witnessed some of their sneak attacks.  It is possible that they actually had a plan when they overtook Fenris’ community. 

Fenris did not strike me as the type of man that let anything go, if he could help it.  He saw his peoples’ captivity at the fortress as a failure on his part.  He blamed himself for his family’s kidnapping.  The gully is where I had done what he could not, and that was something he would never forgive himself for. 

“SueLeeta, you see anything out there?” I asked.

“They skirted your ‘traps’,” she replied with positive derision.  “I mean, I don’t see how anyone could have fallen prey to these traps in the first place.  Maybe one of them was suicidal.”  SueLeeta was a bit of a trap snob, and my first batch of traps had been the desperate work of a more desperate man.  I could see the bright red tell tales of traps hundreds of feet away from my position in the middle of the gully.  If I was being totally honest, I couldn’t comprehend how someone else could have stumbled onto one, either.

“There are some tracks,” she stated, concentrating for a moment.  Her hunting cat dissolved, only to be replaced by a large hound with massively oversized ears.  SueLeeta was a hunter with the ability to summon a variety of pets to assist her with her needs.  They weren’t real animals in any sense of the word, and her attachment to them mirrored that fact.  The dog immediately began sniffing the ground before pointing toward the northeast. 

I grinned, signaling to Fenris.  Badgelor rushed over and scurried up my leg.  I fervently wished that I had my metal scale armor on.  Alas, the heavier set was back in my office in Windfall.  I’d taken to storing most of my belongings in my office after abandoning my room in the Tanner’s shop.  One could only stand the smell of fresh, fresh piss for so long, before one decided to find different sleeping arrangements. 

On Ordinal, much like Earth, urine was a key component in leatherworking, and fresh greens were a key component to our diets.  I wasn’t sure where all the pee was coming from, but I was certain that Timothy the Tanner was a consummate professional at piss gathering.  If there was a skill for urine collection, Tim had it.  Hell, he was probably a Master.   Honestly, I’d become a bit homeless, and my office in the Town Hall was becoming cluttered.  I was going to have to find proper housing soon but not before all the townsfolk had a roof over their heads.  Badgelor took the shoulder opposite of Shart, and my two companions sat quietly for a moment.

“Asshole,” stated Badgelor.

“Moron,” replied Shart.

“Be quiet,” I glowered and started moving toward SueLeeta.  Fenris was just behind me.  I could easily outpace Fenris in plain running, but there was no need.  We only needed to keep up with a dog that was tracking a bunch of hard-to-track bandits.  As we closed, all three of us adopted a loping jog to keep up with the beast. 

“That’s odd,” stated SueLeeta, after we’d been following the dog for about twenty minutes.  Fenris immediately began searching the area for threats even more closely than he had been before.  He was acting as my own personal radar.  I moved closer to SueLeeta and looked at her puzzled dog.  As we surveyed the area, I took a moment to gather a few poisonous herbs I had noticed as I’d walked over.  I’d been doing that a lot lately.  My efforts with the trading mission in Narwal had taken all my time and concentration, causing me to neglect my Crafting skills.  I was attempting to make up for that now. 

“I can sense what he’s searching for,” she explained.  “It was bandits earlier.  They had covered their tracks well, but the scent was still definitely human.  Now, we are picking up goblins and Wargs.”

“Great,” I stated, checking my own weapons.  There were areas in the valley that were still full of goblins.  While their numbers had diminished by their recent loss at Windfall, that had been only one main group.  There were other groups, and their presence created a challenge whenever we crossed paths.  The only useful thing that the goblins had done was help me with Durg.  Of course, I’d tricked them into thinking Durg worked for me.  Fortunately, even if they figured out the truth, it wasn’t like they could hate me much more than they already did. 

Badgelor jumped down to root around near the dog.  The badger really was kind of cute when his little nose crinkled as he sniffed.  He quickly alternated between smelling the ground and smelling the air for over a minute, then he nodded.  “The Wargs are tracking the bandits.  There are quite a few of them.”

“Quite a few of who?  Wargs or bandits?” I asked.

“Yes,” replied Badgelor.

“I got something,” stated Shart.  He slapped the side of my head with his tiny, fat hand and pointed toward the west.  Since I was the only one who could see or hear Shart, all anyone actually observed was my head suddenly pivoting toward an unknown target.  Fenris tracked it instantly.  SueLeeta’s gaze followed a moment later.

“Damn it, Jim,” stated SueLeeta, peering into the distance.  “How do you manage that?”  She furrowed her brows before continuing.  “You are right, of course.  I think there are about twelve of them.”

“Bows,” I stated, not answering her question.  I took off at a stealthy jog toward the bandits.  Fenris soon caught up to me.  His leather armor allowed him to travel nearly as steathfully as me.  SueLeeta dashed ahead at full speed as her dog vanished, to be replaced by an altogether different hunting cat. 

It didn’t take us long to get into position to ambush the unlucky thirteen bandits.  Were they anyone else, I would have felt bad.  They looked beyond defeated.  Did the Wargs do this?  I tried to recall hearing about Warg war tactics.  I wasn’t sure whether they were the type to leave people alive, or if they were a “kill or be killed” kind of warrior.  Regardless, the genetically engineered dogs were nowhere to be seen now. 

Whatever the bandits had found a battle with, they had clearly not been victorious.   Several showed signs of recent injuries.  I was mildly curious as to what caused some of these, especially the man who appeared to be gagged by his own severed foot.  However, curiosity was the only emotion I could summon.  After all, these bandits had been slaughtering refugees on the road to Narwal. 

I didn’t know how many people they’d killed.  I didn’t know how many children they’d killed.  All I knew was that I wanted them dead.  The haunting image of tiny feet covered in dirt at the abandoned campsite flashed through my mind for seemingly the umpteenth time.  This time, however, the face on the body was replaced by my youngest son’s precious visage.   

SueLeeta was the best archer among us.  She was a Hunter.  Finding the most advantageous place to take out someone unsuspecting was among her many talents.  She motioned Fenris and I to our positions and quietly sprinted over a segment of rock to her own place.

As the bandits rested in the cool, calm clearing, they had no reason to think that they were meeting their doom.  A peaceful breeze blew.  The whisper of lush foliage created a soothing harmony with the babbling brook that could be heard in the distance.

SueLeeta stood on top of a nearby tree branch, bow at the ready.  With no warning, she fired a Multi Shot of five arrows into the throats of five separate bandits.  Most died without even understanding what was going on.  The survivors, the ones not immediately decapitated, died due to the poison SueLeeta had rubbed on her arrows.  Poison that I’d given her. 

Even as the five died, I stood and readied my bow.  I wasn’t as good a shot as SueLeeta, nor was my Multi Shot as capable, but I had my own tricks.  In the few days since the Battle of Windfall, I’d managed to gain a few levels and a few skills.  I’d actually gained multiple levels in multiple classes.  This had once again led to a bit of indecision paralysis on my part, as I tried to figure out how to assign all my points.  I’d taken care of the simple stuff, though.  I had much improved my Archery.  I still only had Multi-Shot, Power Shot, and Magic Shot for attacks, but I had found a talent that allowed me to use two of my Marksman shots at once. 

SueLeeta also had that talent, but the cost of firing such a shot was so prohibitive that she’d discounted it almost instantly.  I suspected there was a higher-level perk that would allow her to offset the cost somewhat, but, whatever it was, she didn't have it.  I would never have access to that perk; I wasn’t a Hunter.  What I did have was a massive Stamina bar.  All shots took Stamina or Mana, and I had both of those in prodigious amounts. 

I leveled my bow and prepared a Multi Power Shot, using my Multi Shot and Power Shot simultaneously.  The cost was doubled for both shot types, meaning that this single attack would cost me 30 Stamina.  That was a price I was willing to pay.  Whereas SueLeeta put her arrows into the throats of her victims, I aimed center mass.  I released, and my arrows exploded through them.  Power Shots had a tendency to ragdoll their targets, so each hit caused one of the bandits to go flying backward.  Their intestines flailed about them from where their abdomens had been ripped open. 

Surrounded by such displays of power and proficiency, Fenris was merely a terrific archer.  He had Multi Shot and used it to put three more arrows into three additional bandits.  If this skill gap bothered Fenris, he didn’t show it.  His skills were mainly in his sword and shield, after all.  Then again, I had given him poison as well.  His arrows dripped with the gnarly stuff. 

The bandits were shattered.  They entered the clearing as a group of thirteen, and, within the span of three seconds, only one remained.  As he turned to run, Badgelor leapt onto his back. 

“We need him for questioning,” I shouted to the badger, right before a loud snapping sound filled the air. 

“What?  Lost you for a second, there,” stated Badgelor.  His eyes snapped into focus, and he spit out the head of the newly decapitated bandit.  He had grown to his War Form, roughly the size of a truly massive dog with a powerful jaw to match. 

“You idiot,” stated Shart.

I grumbled, “You need to stop insulting Badgelor.”

“I was talking to you, Dum Dum,” replied Shart, as he gestured toward the forest.  I glanced around and saw dozens of glowing yellow eyes staring at our party. Oh, good.  We found the Wargs.

Chapter 13: Wargs in the Woods

I tensed, waiting for the attack.  I continued to wait, but no attack was forthcoming.  Finally, the largest Warg I’d ever seen stepped forward.  She was a massive, horse-sized wolf with streaks of grey in her fur.  This Warg was at least twice the size of Kappa and must have been far older than him, too.  The most striking feature, though, was her eyepatch.  When combined with the scars on her head, it gave her a truly fiendish appearance. 

“I am GrrDane,” she said in the language of Wargs.

“I am Jim,” I replied.  SueLeeta leapt down off the tree and got between Fenris and me.  It wasn’t some sort of fragile girl move.  She just wanted her meat shields nearby.  Smart lady.

GrrDane bared her teeth for a moment, glaring at me.  It was a gesture I’d come to recognize as reading my virtual name tag.  Her expression softened.  She cocked her head and blinked several times.  “Your parents have a sick sense of humor.”

●                    GrrDane:  Alpha Dire Warg: Level 18

●                    Health: 287/420

●                    Stamina: 390/510

●                    Mana: 40/40

                  Wargs are the trained hunting mounts of goblins.  They are magically enhanced wolf pups that are given a special alchemical diet, causing them to grow larger and tougher than the usual breed. The diet also reinforces them, allowing them to be ridden by small humanoids.  Actual abilities vary, depending on the breed.  GrrDane is based on an Alpha Dire Wolf and is the apex of the Warg breed.  If you are wondering how goblins managed to capture a Dire Wolf pup, I’d say ‘Hey, what’s that over there?’   

“I get that,” I replied.  Scanning the area, I counted twenty-two Wargs.  An impressive number, but not one that would get through us scot- free.  That number was, perhaps, not enough to get through us at all.  Several of the Wargs were also wounded, probably from fighting with Durg.  Slightly more troublesome were the sixty or so goblins I detected.  The foul green oafs were hidden amongst the Wargs and the trees.  I couldn’t physically see them, but Perception told me they were there.  As the two factions were not fighting presently, it appeared that the Warg-Goblin war was over.  At the very least, they had called a ceasefire. 

“They aren’t going to attack,” I whispered.  The Warg leader’s ears flattened, but she did not contradict me.  “What do you want?”

“We want all who oppose us dead,” replied the Warg.

“Yet you are still allied with the goblins,” I said, stalling for time.  They had literally partnered with those that created and enslaved them.

“Your kind is much easier to find than the green ones,” GrrDane responded.  “Thus, we remain allied with them.  Your kind will be removed from the valley.”

“You’ll understand if I refuse,” I replied, searching through the targets.  SueLeeta was already busy designating targets in the party menu, and Fenris had gotten his bow stowed.  For someone else, that would have been a show of less hostile intent.  For Fenris, it was preparation for getting his sword out.  That was how he was most lethal. 

“We will chase you out then,” GrrDane growled.  “We will chase you all from the valley.  We will chase you and make no promises for the survival of any of you.”

“I don’t think that’s very likely either,” I stated.  I wasn’t partial to my own personal bow, like Fenris or SueLeeta were.  I’d fire one quick shot before discarding the weapon and switching over to my swords.  The Wargs would probably destroy any weapons they found lying on the ground, though.  I had my bow at the ready, but my arrows were still in my quiver. 

“Because of your barrier,” she grinned diabolically. 

There was something off about that.  The barrier kept monsters away from the surface of Windfall.  I’d found some weaknesses to the barrier under the city, but certainly not anything that would merit such a response from the Warg.  If you’ve ever heard a wolf snicker, you know it's not a wholesome sound.  That, combined with the cackles of the goblins, made the entire clearing tense. 

“Yes, the impenetrable barrier,” I replied cautiously.

“Some of us have seen your barrier.  I am certain you feel very safe behind it.  Your faith is misplaced.  We have your man,” GrrDane chuckled.

“My man,” I replied, making a sidelong glance toward SueLeeta.  She shrugged.  Fenris hadn’t been gone from the village that long, only a few hours ago.  I was sure he would have mentioned a missing townsman when he joined us at the fortress.  Furthermore, I was pretty sure that had someone been reported missing, I would have received a quest to rescue them.  

“His human name is Durg,” GrrDane answered.  “We call him Pants Shitter.  He was the sub-leader of this pack of weak humans that you just slaughtered.”

“And you don’t think that he’ll be upset that we killed his packmates?” I asked.

“They were weak, and they abandoned him.  Removing weak blood is the only way to make the pack stronger,” replied the Warg.  She said all this as if she was explaining it to a very small child.  It was much the same way that Shart explained things to me.  Non-human intelligences were tricky things, and ascribing human mentalities to them could get you into trouble in a hurry. 

“So, you know that Durg has a way to get through the barrier then?” I questioned.

That was a lie.  To my knowledge, Durg didn’t even know the town had a barrier.  He might have seen it when they got closer to the village, but the battle was out far enough that he might not have, either.  In any case, we’d searched the battlefield after his fight with the goblins.  None of his discarded supplies indicated that he was prepared to attack a barrier-protected town. 

“We do now,” GrrDane grinned triumphantly.  “We have long suspected that there was a way to simply deactivate the barrier.  Now, Durg will tell us, and you will die.”

I blinked several times as SueLeeta and Fenris both stared at me.  Well, I supposed it couldn’t be helped.

“Ha,” I suddenly laughed.  “You puny Wargs will never get that information out of Durg.  His will is like iron!  No matter how brutally you torture him, or for how long, he will never cooperate.  He would rather die in agony than tell you anything.  He’ll never reveal to you how to disarm the barrier, even though he knows all the rituals to do so!”

“Dur’Ick’Mick is skilled in many things.  Dur’Ick’Mick will get him to talk no matter how much Pants Shitter resists,” cried a nearby goblin. boldly striding forwards.  I focused on him.

●                    Dur’Ick’Mick - Shadow Ranger level 15 QUEST TARGET

●                    War Leader Rank 5

●                    Army Champion

●                    245/280 HP

●                    210/210 Stamina

●                    40/40 Mana

●                    Shadow Rangers are goblin Woodsmen who have been touched by the power of the Shadow God.  Their strength is in ambush and torture.  Known equally well for wielding short bows or dual swords, they are often called by the goblin tribes in times of great trouble

I had found another one of the fabled Goblin Heroes.  I was pretty sure I could take him in a one on one fight, but he’d brought friends.  Lots of friends.  That, combined with a War Leader talent, made it a much more dicey proposition.  The slight idea I had of just charging in, swords and bows blazing, faded into the background.  Instead, I mentally went through escape routes. 

“Even the most skilled goblin torturers, using their sharpest implements on his genitals, would never get him to talk,” I replied.  “Fingernails torn off, acid to the eyeballs, hungry rats to the stomach?  Durg laughs at simple tortures like that.”

The Warg paused aghast, “He’s really that tough?”  The goblin growled at her and then attempted to stare me down.

●                    You have resisted an Intimidate check. You are Initiate at Resist Fear.

Fenris’ eyes were like flint.  To my surprise, SueLeeta turned her head down.  It took me a moment to realize that she wasn’t into these big face-to-face conflicts like Fenris and me.  She struck from range and with great power, but going head-on, close-up like this was out of her comfort zone.  The fact that we were nearly surrounded wasn’t helping anyone. 

I resumed speaking.  “I know he is.  Durg’s technique of lying about what he knows is enough to fool most people, but I can see that you are wise enough to know better.  Yes, he knows, but you’ll never get it from him!”

“We shall, human,” GrrDane replied, as the rest of her pack began howling.  They had taken my distraction as their cue to start filtering away.  As their leader’s howls ended, only the Shadow Ranger and the Alpha Warg remained, glaring at us from across the field.

I felt SueLeeta tense as she considered unspeakable violence.  Then, she did the same calculation I had.  The odds of killing both of them were almost non-existent, and they would have a small army on top of us moments later.  I didn’t think I could outrun that many Wargs; I knew Fenris couldn’t.  If we fought here, we might kill off a Goblin Hero or a Warg Leader.  However, we would just as likely lose someone.  This wasn’t our battlefield, it was theirs.  With no more preamble, the goblin leapt onto the back of the Warg.  The duo quickly vanished into the depths of the forest.

It was quiet for a long moment as we stood our ground, defiant against the horde. 

“Durg has no idea how to drop the barrier,” stated SueLeeta.

“None whatsoever, but he killed kids.  If I can’t get to him, this is the next best thing,” I replied. 

“They are probably going to torture him to death,” said Fenris.  His tone was of someone stating an obvious truth you might not have considered. 

I had considered.  We left.

Chapter 14: A Tasteful Funeral

The return to Windfall was a routine trip.  I’d taken this path once before, when I’d traveled from the grotto to the town.  Of course, I could now easily follow any path I’d previously taken, thanks to my Great Explorer talent.  I’d had a few talent points to invest, so I’d taken one that increased my movement speed on known routes by 10%.  Considering we’d packed light; the return journey only took a couple of hours.  Hours that my lazy badger chose to nap away on my shoulder.

I had leveled up a considerable number of times in my last battle, leaving me with a bit of analysis paralysis.  After the battle, I had twelve perks to assign, as well as many talent points attached to my classes.  I’d spent a few perks on the more obvious choices.  I’d used my Adventurer talents to improve my ability to move over long distances and spent all my Duelist perks on defensive abilities.  That left me with perks that I still had to invest. 

As I reviewed my options, I heard Shart’s voice in my head.  “For the love of all that is demonic, stop!  Not again!  No one, least of all me, wants to hear your ruminations on which powers you might select.  I am simply not listening to you go through another hour of slow-motion debate over which points to invest where.”

“But I was going to bring up my character sheet and really go all out...” I started.

“NO BUTS,” screamed the demon.  “Seriously, it's boring, and no one wants to hear about it.  If you need something, invest the points.  If you don’t need something, save them.  Just stop with the discussion of all the calculations!”

“Or, here’s a crazy idea.  You could just stay out of my head.” I suggested tersely.

Badgelor’s eyes opened as something was whispered between my magical companions.  “Why do I have Shart’s permission to bite you?” he asked.

“Because Shart’s an asshole,” I replied. 

“Makes sense,” yawned the badger.  He resumed his slumber, dreaming of eating Charles.

SueLeeta broke away from us as we neared Windfall.  She had other tasks that needed to be performed in the woods, mainly hunting for small game.  Group participation was not encouraged.  SueLeeta made a good amount of coin selling skins to Timothy the Tanner and meat to the villagers.  While she did that, she also scouted around just about everywhere, alerting the village to stray goblins or any other threats she could find. 

It was late into the afternoon when Fenris and I, along with my shoulder slobs, got back to Windfall.  The village was bustling more than I ever remembered before.  Considering my lack of leadership experience, it was a fairly impressive sight.  The outer wall was gradually being repaired, as the stonecutter was able to transform some of the debris from the mine into stone blocks.  Inside, the town was far more impressive.

We walked through the gate as one of the guards waved at us.  Fenris said his goodbyes by simply nodding once and walking away.  That was about as expressive as Fenris got; he was a man of few words.  I wondered, not for the first time, if that personality trait was just Fenris, or if it had been cultivated over time in his marriage to AvaSophia.  The Woodsman’s wife certainly had no problem conveying her feelings and opinions, sometimes with only a look.  It was not difficult to imagine a man assuming Fenris’ stoic attitude in an effort to preserve domestic tranquility. 

I continued walking down Main Street, as we had christened it, to the town square.  That took a while, as Windfall was actually a pretty decently sized town inside its walls.  I passed row after row of white, stone houses in various states of repair.  Their combination of thatched or shingled roofs were ready to keep the residents safe from theoretical weather elements.  Theoretical, because I had yet to actually experience any change in the weather.  There had been no rain or overcast days.  There hadn’t even been any notable changes in temperature.  I assumed there would be, at some point, though, and my residents theoretically would have ample shelter when it happened.   

Most of the buildings I passed on the main road were two story shops, their first floors abandoned.  If I recalled my studies of history correctly, they were like medieval merchant houses.  The shops occupied the first story, while the shopkeeper lived above in the second story.  These buildings had been more sturdily constructed and easier to repair than the less impressive, strictly residential housing behind them.  Thus, the second story living quarters had been reoccupied first.  The actual first floor shops, on the other hand, were largely unnecessary with the limited economy the village had been able to affect.  As such, they were being used for storage or just left empty. 

The problem was that most of the buildings were damaged so badly that they required extensive repairs before they could be used.  We’d done what we could, focusing on the easier repairs first.  Our supply of iron and stone had been mostly resolved when Ironpass Mine was reclaimed, but a steady supply of planks was sorely lacking.

We’d been able to get everyone under roofs due to the ongoing repairs.  However, most of that housing came from buildings repurposed as makeshift shelters.  People were getting sick of them.   Of course, now we had a brand-new wave of refugees that would be camping for the foreseeable future.  Fortunately, the sawmill was about to reopen.  That would resolve our plank shortage.  With the new supplies, we could start moving everyone into proper housing.  That would be a nice boost for morale.

As I crossed over a rise in the road, I was able to see south of the town proper.  Large fields filled the land there.  Those had been Kappa’s favorite hunting grounds, when he first moved in with Fenris’ family.  The Warg still stalked there occasionally, but, with the reduction of goblins in the forest, he’d moved most of his hunting outside of the barrier.  

Farms were different on Ordinal.  On Earth, you got a harvest perhaps as many as three times a year, where all the plants were cut down and new plantings occurred.  On Ordinal, the fields grew unusually.  You could harvest food every day from a different portion of the field, after the field had grown in.  It made absolutely no sense, but I’d decided to get out of the way of myself and stop questioning everything.  I knew time worked differently here, and it was easy to chalk part of the unexplained up to that.  AvaSophia, a professioned Farmer, had said “That’s the way crops work.”, and I was done arguing. 

New world, new Jim.

Professioned people was the <system’s> way of tracking individuals who had enough skills in a certain field to be considered a professional.  On Ordinal, that meant that professional people were generally better than others at whatever it was that they did.  They possessed a higher talent than could be explained by skills alone.  For example, Jarra the Healer, our town healer, was a professioned Healer.  She could patch a wound better than I could, and I even had most of the necessary skills to perform the task not that I’d had any idea what to do for DorMaude.  Professioned people got a very limited number of perks to select that would improve their professional abilities. 

As the Farmer who had been tending their fields the longest, AvaSophia’s crops had come up first. Some had been ready to harvest just after the Goblin Siege and made for a fine victory meal.  Her crops had gone a tremendous way toward solving Windfall’s food shortage.  Just yesterday, a half-dozen other farms began producing food to augment AvaSophia’s, and Windfall’s cup runneth over.  Before, we had been doing everything in our power to use every last scrap of food.  Suddenly, we had a full cornucopia. 

I’d just been ecstatic that I didn’t need to eat EstherSasha’s food every day.  She had been the only one in town that could prepare such big batches of food that filled everyone's stomachs.  Sure, we all got the calories we needed to stave off starvation, but EstherSasha had a negative trait that caused her food to taste under-seasoned and, well, gross. 

Crossing into the town square, I saw OttoSherman taking his mighty axe and chopping down the final tree that had filled the village commons.  Thankfully, he was using his actual axe that a Lumberjack carries, and not his other mighty axe, of which I had heard far too much about from the ladies in town.   Also, a couple of the men, because OttoSherman was a stone-cold freak.  Sigh. 

When I had first arrived in town, that common area had been totally wild and overgrown.  Now, the entire area was flat, except for the dusty fountain in the very center.  There weren’t even any stumps left behind.  On Ordinal, a professioned Lumberjack could magically remove them. 

I clapped with everyone else as that last tree fell.  Windfall celebrated shit like that, and it was that mentality that led me to believe we would always be Noobtown to our neighbors.  There was no more ceremony than that, though.  The commons was just a minor project.  I’d offered a small number of experience points per tree cut down to finish it off, and OttoSherman could cut trees faster than anyone else.  He’d obviously rushed to accept the job.  Most people on Ordinal had an issue gaining experience points, so any that were offered were better than gold.  Points were a perfect motivator to get people moving, and the town was allotted a certain portion of points to assign every day.  An unscrupulous person could have taken advantage of that.

OttoSherman threw the large tree onto his shoulder and turned north.  I had a hunch where he was headed.  We’d suffered a couple casualties in the Battle of Windfall, and we had cremated the remains near an old, dilapidated shrine.  It stood to reason that OttoSherman would already be aware of the dead body we were in possession of.                                                                              

“Need any help with that?” I nodded toward his massive log.

“Mr. Mayor, I knew you wanted to get your hands on my wood.”  His lips turned up into a grin before he added, “Thanks, but I’ve got this.  Lumberjack perk, you know?”                                                                                                                                                                  

I followed behind him.  Others joined us.  It seemed word traveled fast around the town.  None of Windfall’s residents had known DorMaude, but they had heard of how she’d been held captive by bandits.  They had heard of Badgelor’s rescue mission, and they could all relate.  Most of them had once been in her shoes.

As we reached the clearing containing the shrine, we were greeted by DorMaude’s friends.  They had immediately gathered here, once the caravan reached Windfall.  We all watched soberly as OttoSherman laid the tree down and prepared to transform it into firewood.  Inexplicably, this was done with just one stroke of his ax.  DorMaude’s friends gently lifted her tightly bound body and laid her on the planks.  I had initially thought there was a sacred nature to the knots used to bind the dead here, but no.  It was all about zombie prevention.  Only you can prevent zombie outbreaks.

Voan appeared much calmer now.  She looked on emotionlessly.  Grace stood next to her, tightly clenching Voan’s hand.

Everyone turned to look at me.  I, in turn, stared at them.

“Dum Dum, say something,” Shart whispered.

“Why me?” I thought back.

“You’re the mayor,” Shart said.

“Yeah, and that kind of made sense with the other cremations.  They died valiantly defending Windfall, which I am mayor of.  I only met this woman today.  I know nothing about her.”

“Make it up,” suggested Badgelor.

“I can’t do that!” I whispered insistently.  “There are people here that actually knew her.  It would be far more appropriate for one of them to be doing this.”

The crowd was still staring at me.  I had to say something before this became even more awkward.

“Uh…” I began.  “Well, I didn’t know DorMaude very well.  She was, uh, a shrewd negotiator.  She was an innkeeper.  She loved her granddaughter very much.”  Voan heaved a terrible sigh.  I spared a glance at the little girl before continuing, “She was a friend to us all.  Well, not all of us.  Most of us never got a chance to meet her but…”

Shart was staring at me open-mouthed.  “What are you doing?” Badgelor asked.

“Still, I feel like she was a good friend, even though we weren’t close,” I continued.  “And I want to thank her for that.  Thank you for being a friend.  Thank you for traveling down the road and back again.  Your heart is true-”

Badgelor slapped me.  “Just repeat after me.”

That was worrying, but it couldn’t be any worse than what I was currently doing.  “Okay.”

I began repeating all that Badgelor whispered in my ear.  “By the power of Grebthar, DorMaude has the power.  Life is like a hurricane here on Ordinal, she solved the mystery and rewrote history.” Wait, what the hell is this? Several people were nodding in satisfaction, though, so I carried on.  “She was loved by good and feared by evil.  She would never turn her back on her friends, and she was always there to defend. Now DorMaude can dance her cares away, her worries for another day. My Little Pony, Gesundheit.”

“Gesundheit!” the crowd repeated.  Half of the attendees were slobbering messes at this point.

“Wow,” Shart said, looking at Badgelor, “I never figured you to be that religious.”

“I pick up things here and there,” the badger responded.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH,” screamed Voan.  “I think her eyes opened!”

“Light her up, boys,” called OttoSherman.

Chapter 15: Town Hall with Friends

Sighing, I was finally able to head to the Town Hall.  The building served as the administrative hub of Windfall.  I immediately saw Mar, my clerk.  He sat at his desk, ramrod straight, endlessly pushing papers.  I was unsure about him, because, while Mar was good about the administrative side of the job, he was bad at the political side of it.  Mar was not a people person, which was suboptimal for a town clerk.  Then again, he was the best choice I had for the time being, and no one seemed to be complaining.

“Or he might not be telling you their complaints,” replied Shart.  He enjoyed reading my innermost thoughts some of the time.  He did it when it suited him, and I never knew for sure when it suited him.  Bloated, red dickhead.

I checked my quest log, but it was unchanged.  The main quest listed was to defeat the Goblin Heroes.  Other quests were all either greyed out or unavailable.  The greyed-out ones didn’t offer any experience.  The unavailable ones meant that I lacked some key component required to complete them.  The Goblin Hero quest was meant to eliminate whatever Goblin Heroes remained, but the Wargs had done most of that work, pre-truce.  After their little war, I doubted there were more than three Goblin Heroes left alive, and I’d just run into one of them. 

“So,” began Badgelor, as he crawled up the podium that stood in the center of the room.  The podium served as a place of power, not just for the structure, but for the entire village as well.  “What’s the plan?”

“I’m an illustrious mayor,” I stated pompously.  “I’ll need to see about housing for the new refugees.” 

“Are you still on about that?  Just leave.  Mar can handle housing.  Go adventure or something, Dum Dum,” commented Shart.

“I don’t think so,” I replied.  “Durg is out of my hair, the mine is running, we have plenty of food for the moment, and the town has a positive income.  If I can just get the sawmill running, I think we’ll be okay.”

“Gods, does that sound boring!  Do you need quests to do?” asked Badgelor.  “I mean, we could always go on a rousing adventure to kill Charles.”

“We don’t know where he is,” I replied, thinking about Badgelor’s quest from the unavailable list.  Without knowing where the target was, I didn’t know what we could do about it.

“You aren’t actually considering doing his quest before mine, are you?” whined Shart.  “I was here first.”

“He doesn’t decide quests based on who was first,” Badgelor sneered.  “The illustrious mayor decides them on merit and importance.”

“Are you saying mine isn’t important?” Shart asked indignantly.

“Noooooo.  Never,” the badger stated, before smugly adding, “I’m just saying you aren’t as important as me.”

“Children,” I admonished, chuckling slightly as I did so.  They were reminding me more and more of my younger sons when they didn’t get along.  God, I miss my family.  “We’ve been over this, Shart.  Your Demon Door quest will kill me.”

“Fine, make it all about you!” stated Shart, leaving my shoulder with a pop and suddenly hovering in front of me.  “What do you want to do, then, Dum Dum?”

“I’m going to sneak into my office for a bit, why don’t you go get dinner,” I said and walked over to my office.

“No problem Jim,” said Badgelor as he started shuffling towards the door, “Ye got something in your eye.”

I turned away and walked into the door shutting it behind me.  It was late afternoon and I felt exhausted.  I wondered what was keeping Shart but, after a moment when he didn’t reappear, I quickly stripped off my armor.  He didn’t like riding my naked shoulder, so I pulled off my shirt as well and stared down at the ‘not my chest’ for the umpteenth time. 

This was wrong.

My wife would have loved this.  I had a job one summer when we were newly married working at a warehouse, and I got huge.  She always said she didn’t care, but she always liked to rub down my six pack whenever she got the chance. 

I sat down in my chair and tried to remember every detail about what her touch felt like for a long time.  I did that until I fell asleep. 

Chapter 16: A Fun Conversation with Mar

I yawned and arose from my not-so-very comfy office chair.  Sleeping in the office was actually less comfortable than sleeping in my bedroll on the pile of hay in the Tanner’s shop.  I think that sleeping alone was the actual problem.  I was still unused to that.  My wife would have yelled at me by now to take care of myself.  She’d say something like. . .

“Get a house you moron!” growled Badgelor.  He too found the accommodations lacking.

“We’ve been over this.  It would be wrong of me to have a house when all the citizens do not,” I replied.  “Besides, you can stay at the inn.”

“Too noble for your own good,” he grumbled as he began to groom himself.  “And someone needs to watch over you while you sleep.  There could be pumas around”

Looking around for a moment, I started strapping on my leather armor then I headed for my office door.  Badgelor scurried up my side, and Shart poofed into existence.  I was a regular three-headed beast with two very ugly heads.

“SHIT!  I meant to appear after you left your office,” grumbled Shart.  I had a very brief moment to be confused by his outburst before the door slammed open.  I jumped back at the appearance of my truly miffed town clerk, standing before me in all his righteous anger and indignation.

“You brought back eighty people,” he screamed at me, “And you sent me another twenty the day before.”

“Seventy-nine,” Badgelor corrected.  Mar didn’t understand him, but I shot the little critter a glare. 

“Yes,” I replied calmly.  “Windfall accepts refugees.  That’s kind of our thing.”

“We might need to change our thing.  You do understand that our fields will be nearly at capacity after this last group settles in?  Thank goodness you were, at the very least, smart enough to ask for supplies to help with the fields.”

“I’m a regular genius, Mar,” I growled at him.  I’d often dreamed of the day I could fire Mar, and that day might have dawned.  Then, I’d have to do Mar’s job, though, and that job sucked. 

“We cannot accept any more refugees until the fields are expanded all the way!  Even then, until the sawmill becomes operational, we can’t house them,” he continued.

“I brought the saw blade back yesterday,” I retorted. 

Mar groaned, “Well, they can’t get it to work.  The mechanism is broken or something.  We’ll need to go back to Narwal and find an Engineer to get it running.”

“I think I’ll have a look at it first,” I replied.  I had the Engineering skill after all.  “I’ll just see what they need and go get it fixed.”

“Fine,” growled Mar, “But no more refugees.  We are full.”

I’ll admit I took no small amount of pleasure as I stood there unmoving.  I stared Mar down.  “No, we are not full.  Windfall will take any refugees that need us, because that is what Windfall does. “

“Says you,” grumbled Mar.

“Says me, the mayor” I countered.  “This is happening.  Do your job and tell me what issues you foresee with bringing in more refugees.”

I got the impression that Mar really wanted to argue.  He stood unblinking, fists clenched at his sides.  It was a standoff he knew he couldn’t win.  Eventually, he decided to do what he did best; he took the problem and analyzed it.  “We need to get all of the fields up and running, if we have any hope of sustaining everyone.”

“You already know about the additional supplies that we brought back from Narwal.  We can use those to get more fields planted,” I replied.

Mar paused, thinking.  He continued, “Even with those fields, our diet will be bland without any meat.  SueLeeta is a fine hunter, but she can’t provide enough protein for us all.  We’ll need to get some livestock.”

“I have livestock coming with the next caravan,” I replied.  “Speaking of, we’ll need to get some hay planted.”

Mar nodded at that, marking something off on his clipboard.  I continued, “In addition to livestock, Glorious Robert and his friends are fishermen.  That will help with our diets, as well. 

“Oh, I know, but guess what?  He can’t build a boat without a sawmill,” Mar ground out.  “Then, we will still need places for these people to stay.”

“Which we will have, once the sawmill is up and running,” I reminded him again.

“Granted, and what am I doing with the rental of the inn?” asked Mar agitatedly, flipping through his paperwork.  “You assigned it to a woman who died less than five minutes later.  We could just keep the money.”

“Assign it to RueVivian, free of charge this month,” I said, causing Mar to wince.  He hated passing up money. 

“Any other issues?” I asked.  Mar looked down at his paperwork again.

“Actually, outside of those problems, the town is running reasonably well,” stated Mar.  The ‘because I’m in charge of actually running it’ was left unsaid. Pompous little butthole.

“How close are we to leveling up?” I asked.

“Get the sawmill running and finish the boat,” stated Mar.  “Then I can finagle things, we’ll be good to go.  There isn’t really much for you to do besides that.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll go do some mayoring,” I replied.

Chapter 17: The Sawmill

The sawmill was on the western side of town, adjacent to the large creek that ran through Windfall.  I wouldn’t have considered a creek to be useful for an industrial area, but I was thinking in terms of electricity, not waterpower.  The sawmill was one of the biggest buildings in town.  It had a massive, vaulted ceiling and a huge water wheel that fed into a canal that had been dredged out of the creek.  The large doorways would allow any size of wagon to be wheeled into the unloading area, where the logs could be easily worked.  A wide-open yard surrounded it, occupied by a single chicken.  He cocked his head at me, determined I wasn’t a threat, and went back to pecking at the ground. 

Dominating the side of the sawmill, the massive water wheel dipped into the creek.  Even now, it was spinning slowly.  I had been amazed that it had been mostly intact, despite the town being abandoned. The wheel had been properly stored, however, which apparently reduced Durability Damage significantly.  The gentle creaking noise it made was somehow comforting.

What I did not hear was the saw spinning.

I strode to the entrance, spotting a crowd of people inside.  Bringing up the town menu, it showed that twenty-five workers were employed in this Tier 4 structure.  There were slots for one Expert Carpenter, six Journeyman Carpenters, and eighteen lesser Carpenters to operate the mill at peak efficiency.  Carpenters were people with the profession Carpentry.  That one term applied equally to both hand tools and industrial processes on Ordinal.   I had exactly zero experts in town and only a handful of Journeyman, most of whom worked in metallurgy. 

The <system> had dredged up anyone that it thought could work the mill.  The <system> would automatically scan the town and find whoever could do a job and list them for my perusal.   Thankfully, one of the refugees, CarpenterJohn, was a Journeyman Carpenter.  The remainder of the crew had been assigned to make planks.  That practice had been leveling up their skill recently, due to the massive demand for their product.  CarpenterJohn was attempting to occupy the Expert slot, making the building work at a reduced efficiency.  That would have to do for now until we found or trained an Expert.   

A Carpenter, with simple tools, could convert one log into three planks in an eight-hour shift.   That meant that up until now, with all twenty-four carpenters busily cranking away, seventy-two boards would be produced per day.  That sounded like a large number, until you realized that we needed around fifty planks a day, just to keep up the working buildings.  We also needed nearly seventeen thousand planks to complete all the repairs in town.  We got a slight bonus, now that we had a Journeyman to oversee the process and had just cracked eighty planks a day, since the strongest human emotion was fear.  CarpenterJohn was terrified of everything and he had a way of spreading that fear to everyone nearby.

“No, no, she won’t do, either.  Try another child,” called the shaggy CarpenterJohn, as I left the yard and entered the mill.  Through the large and impressive loading and unloading area surrounding the saw.  I whistled as I walked in. 

“This is huge,” I commented.

“I’ve seen bigger,” grumbled Badgelor.  He hopped off my shoulder and bounded over to the kids.  His earlier standoffishness toward the children of the village had melted away. Odd.

“It's a Tier 4 sawmill?  Of course, it is.  Wait a tick,” stated Shart, as he flipped through his menus. “It's a named building, the Wind’s Saw.”

“That’s pretentious,” I replied.

“It gives it a 2% production bonus,” replied the demon.

“So, how is the Wind’s Saw working today, CarpenterJohn?” I called out.  A small child was herded away, and another child was forced to stand next to the great blade.  The child looked agitated.  I sincerely hoped this wasn’t a “clever” way of solving our housing crisis.  There were enough other adults and surviving children around that I didn’t believe that to be the case.

“Not well, your mayorship,” he replied, wringing his hands.  “We have a problem.”

Of course.

“Well, I’m here to help.  What seems to be the issue?  Also, why are there so many small children here?” I asked, looking around at the flock of kids.  I didn’t add that their presence had to be against some sort of safety regulation.  The kids all looked to me and then back to CarpenterJohn.

“Well, the actual problem is that the saw blade will not spin,” replied the Journeyman.  “I think it has something to do with the gobbledygook that makes up the building, but my skill level is not high enough to figure it out.  We need an Engineer to look at it.  I just checked yesterday, and I can’t locate one.”

Technically I was an Engineer, but I’d found that you had to register your skills to get them to list in the town menu.  Thus, I was unlisted.  Without registering them, your skills stayed hidden unless someone had the Lore skill.  That made sense, because, if you were a high-level pickpocket, there was no way you wanted that skill advertised to the town.

Hey, we have a job for a Master Pickpocket!  Put your head in those stocks and stay put until you die. 

I glanced over at the saw blade, ignoring for a moment the lack of an answer regarding the kids.   I focused on not just the blade, but also on the belts and gears that were built around it.  They were designed to transfer power from the water wheel to the saw.  My Engineering skill clicked, and I saw the entire assembly highlighted in green, yellow, and red.  I quickly determined that the red bits were preventing it from working at all, while the yellow bits were just not configured optimally. 

Thankfully, the blade itself was green.

“Okay, I think I understand what you mean,” I replied, looking back at him, “But, why the children?”

“Oh, that,” he said, wringing his hands again.  “Well, sometimes a child has a trait that will let them do something that is pretty uncommon.  We have no Engineers as of last night, so I was hoping that one of them had a trait for Engineering.  They could help us fix the mill. “

“The Wind’s Saw,” I corrected and glanced over at the children.  They were squirming slightly under my gaze.  I realized that I was about to use Lore on them, but I stopped myself.  Dropping into menu time, I asked, “Shart, why don’t these kids know what their trait is?”

Shart groaned.  “Maybe, Dum Dum, because they are kids?”

“While I’m certain that would make sense to someone who has spent a month on Ordinal, I’m still a couple of weeks shy of that.  Why don’t you explain it to me?” I asked.  As far as I knew, everyone had access to a character sheet.  That sheet had their talent listed on it.  I knew I could see a person’s trait when I used Lore, if I focused hard enough. 

Manifesting himself on my character sheet, Shart started rummaging around.  It took him some time, but he found what he was looking for.  A new tab popped up that read ‘Children’s Sheet - <obsolete>’ Shart brought up the early sheet, and I whistled.  It was damn near blank.

“A child's sheet is very basic.  They can unlock portions of it if they go to school.  There are also certain magical potions and spells that can be used to reveal some of it, but it's largely blank and useless,” stated the demon.  “Think of it like a little badger that is just kind of there but not really helpful all that often.”

“But the trait still exists, like with Grace.  If they come to a point where it can be utilized, will it just activate?” I questioned.

“Some traits only activate when you become aware of them, but most passive skill traits, like what CarpenterJohn is looking for, activate when you try to use them.  Most parents are keen on finding out their child’s trait early.  They will pay good coin to try to figure it out.”

“Does everyone have a trait?” I asked.

“Yes, and almost all of them are revealed when you become an adult,” stated Shart, droning on and on. “Keep in mind, many traits aren’t all that impressive.  Having a few extra Hit Points or a single stat point are the most common types.  Some people never learn of their trait because it's so obscure.  Depending on your Lore skill you should be able to see some of them, mainly the common ones.”

“I saw Grace’s trait right away,” I stated, remembering the encounter.

“You mean the trait she was actively using right in front of you that we were talking about?  You must be some sort of impressive Lore prodigy to figure that out!  Can you also tell if it is raining by sticking your hand out a window?” I was surprised Shart’s eyes didn’t roll right out of his head.  

I dropped out of menu time and willed my face to become blank.  I had absolutely no desire to have my creepy Lore look on while I used the skill.

●                    Name: DaveSteve, Human Child

●                    HP: 10/10

●                    Stamina: 10/10

●                    Mana: 10/10

●                    Trait: Unknown

“See, he doesn’t even know what his trait is.  How could you?” stated Shart.  He floated off my shoulder and over to the saw blade.  Sitting on it, he began to seductively flick one of the blade’s teeth with his little forked tongue. 

Keeping my face impassive, I scanned the rest of the room.  My results were disappointing.  The first ten kids were all showing as having unknown traits.  The only interesting thing I noticed was that some of them had their current emotion highlighted, which I learned was due to Badgelor’s proximity.  He could not only smell fear, but happiness and just about any other emotion.  He could not smell traits however and I was about to give up when I spotted a child and my Lore skill kicked out something useful.

●                    PhilRob

●                    Hit Points: 30/30

●                    Trait <discovered>: Extra Health: PhilRob has 20 more Hit Points than normal.

I noticed a ping in my Lore skill and caught a large number of Skill Points being earned.  It was worthwhile enough that I went through the rest of the children.  Only one other child’s trait was discovered, extra Stamina. When I’d finished, I prepared to tell the children.

The results were less than expected.  PhilRob looked horrified and the other child actually broke down crying.

“Shart, why are they upset that they learned their traits?” I asked.  I figured I already knew the answer, but I really wanted Shart to insult me again.  I was a glutton for punishment like that. 

“Because, Dum Dum, those traits are some of the most common ones.  Everyone wants a world changing trait that will set them apart from the crowd.  There have never been any stories told about a hero with +20 Hit Points,” replied the demon.  I watched as another child replaced DaveSteve at the blade. 

I told CarpenterJohn of my findings as he tested the last child.  He just sighed.  “It was too much to hope for, I suppose.”

“All is not lost,” I said in my best hero voice.  The nearby men turned toward me.  “I have the Engineering skill.”  I hadn’t led with that because being good at everything had been making everyone ask me to do everything.  In this case, as I had no alternative, I would have to stand tall and handle the issue personally.  That was my story, and I was sticking to it. 

“Oh, that’s great,” said one of the other carpenters as I placed my hands on my hips.  The others all smiled, except for one man.  I recognized him from the original group of settlers. He whispered something to CarpenterJohn, whose own smile became stiff and a look of true horror seeped in.

“Yes, indeed it is.  We’ve got a set of engineering tools being made right now.  I think we can wait until they are done, and the mayor can get us all fixed up,” said CarpenterJohn.  “Let's get the kids out of here.”

I activated my Improvised Tool skill and surveyed the room.  I hadn’t been using it much, but it was still at a high enough level to affect repairs here.  “No need to wait.  I can manage this without them.”

“That’s great,” said CarpenterJohn, laughing nervously.  “Let's get these kids out of here.  You apprentices, too.  Chop chop.”

“Well, I might need their help,” I said, glancing at my proposed list of improvised tools.  It had been a long time since I’d gotten to build anything with my hands.  “Badgelor, go grab me that chicken. Make sure it stays alive.”

“Can do!  You’ll save me a bite?” he asked, as he popped to his feet and waved goodbye to the kids.

“We only need one leg,” I replied.

“Uh, great,” stated CarpenterJohn, “Let me just get those kids out of here.”

Chapter 18: A New Era

“Done,” I yelled several hours later.  I adjusted one final piece of equipment in the middle of the south wall, where the water wheel connected to the main shaft.  Now, all the belts and gears were either yellow or green.  There was enough green to ensure that the whole place was operational. “Pull the lever, Kronk!”

CarpenterJohn took a few moments to look at the glory of my genius.  Then, he flipped the lever, causing the gears to engage.  The saw blade began spinning as the attached belts were brought up to speed. 

●                    CarpenterJohn has been awarded the title of Kronk, Puller of Levers.  Don’t pull the wrong lever!

Everyone inhaled sharply as the machine spun up, and the saw came up to full speed.  Shart, who had been dozing by the blade, jerked awake and flew over to my shoulder. 

“What is it with you and chickens?” he asked. 

I brushed him off.  This was amazing!  Turning to find the crew, I was surprised to see only five men still remained, including a very pale CarpenterJohn. 

“What’s his problem?” I asked, as I hopped down to the floor below.  I began to look for where the logs were stored.  “Let's get this thing loaded.”

CarpenterJohn started to yell to his men to get something out of the hopper, but this was way too interesting.  I just grabbed a log and slid it onto my back.  Grunting with the strain, I went over to the main conveyor belt for the saw and dropped the log into it. 

I motioned the Journeyman away and reached for the controls, only to realize that I didn’t understand how to operate the device.  There were about eight levers and multiple dials.

●                    Carpentry skill check: Failed.  You are insufficiently skilled to use this device

Grumbling, I glared at CarpenterJohn.  He shook himself out of his stupor and got in front of the controls.  The saw blade was already moving, so he just started letting a series of rollers slide the log into place.  Ordinal rules took over from there.

On Earth, a log would have been cut into boards in a very special way, with multiple cuts being required.  On Ordinal, the log hit the blade and seemed to come out as one board.  Then, it slid down into the waiting hopper, at which point the board broke apart into multiple perfect planks.  When I made planks by hand, I got three planks over the course of a day.  Using the Wind’s Saw, we got seven planks in about one minute. 

“We are going to be able to beat our all-time board production in like ten minutes,” I commented, bringing up the town menu. That was going to cause a different problem.   In the olden days of four days ago, we had only OttoSherman hacking down trees for lumber.  Once I realized that a working sawmill was in our near future, I had upped our number of lumberjacks.  Even with many more lumberjacks, there was no way they would be able to supply enough wood to keep up with the mill.  It was actually a good problem to have.  

Thankfully we had been stockpiling wood for days now.  The new crew of Lumberjacks had been working diligently, but, due to their variety of skill levels and substandard tools, we were far from optimized in the process.  I currently had seventeen Lumberjacks felling trees.  That amounted to over 120 logs an hour, and they generally only worked eight hours a day.  So, that ended up at just over 960 logs a day.  The mill could easily run all day when it got in full swing.   

Checking the town menus, I saw we had 1,387 logs in the stockpile, due to some unscheduled overtime.  Digging into the menus, I could divide my Lumberjacks into two groups:  OttoSherman, and not OttoSherman.  OttoSherman was my only Journeyman Lumberjack.  He was listed as a Talented Lumberjack, which was a rank above Journeyman.  The remainder of my team were spread between Armature and Novice skill ranks. 

By himself, OttoSherman was producing 365 logs per day, leaving everyone else to produce 731 logs.  He was using the same tools as everyone else and cutting the same trees, but every tree he cut produced more usable wood.  He also did it much faster.  Thankfully, as more Lumberjacks caught up in skill levels, we’d be all set on logs.

With each log representing seven planks, the supply of logs we currently had represented just under ten thousand planks.  We were currently bringing in over 7000 planks worth of materials per day.  I was explaining the number to CarpenterJohn, and he brought me down to earth pretty quickly.  “Planks are Tier 1 building supplies.  That’s not to say we won’t use them by the wagon load, but don’t mistake this huge supply of planks for something that will end all Windfall’s problems.”

“Why is that?” I asked, thinking that a plank was a plank.  I realized that was a very Earthy way of thinking.

“Take the church in town, for example.  That's a Tier 4 structure.  It wasn’t built using basic planks.  It was constructed with joists and beams, as well as advanced boards for some of the fancier work,” CarpenterJohn said.  “Some of those we can make directly with this fancy new saw, but most of them will have to be processed using planks.  Fair warning, it's going to take an enormous number of them.  Additionally, you need an Expert Carpenter to even make some of the required pieces, and I’m only a Journeyman.”

I sighed.  It was never that easy.  “Well, at least it's a good start.”

“It's a great start,” stated CarpenterJohn reassuringly.  “If you give me enough time, I’ll be able to level up my carpentry skills to Expert.  Likewise, the other men working here will increase their levels.  In a month, we should be able to repair any of the higher tier structures that are still in town.  Each of those major projects is just going to take a bunch of time and wood.”

And that was just one part of the problem.  The Cathedral of Windfall, the actual name of the church CarpenterJohn spoke of, required not just a bunch of fancy wood, but also a bunch of fancy stone, glass, crystal, and a type of iron that we could not yet produce.  We also didn’t have a cleric.  Still, I owed it to Tomen Masterbrooke to try to restore it.  He had been a rock-solid supporter of me from the very start and it wasn’t his fault about his current predicament.  Without his unyielding presence, I wouldn’t have been able to save AvaSophia and her kids.  None of this would have been possible without Mr Masterbrooke, and I couldn’t afford to take him for granite.

“We are going to have to swing by the church later tonight,” I thought to Shart.

“To clean bird shit off the statue?” he asked.

“To clean bird shit off of the statue,” I confirmed.

As production at the Wind’s Saw began in earnest, I discovered my presence was not helping anyone.  The workspace was tight and watching six grunting men lifting heavy logs and dropping them got boring quickly.  I gathered my companions and left.

“You are so boring,” stated the badger as we departed.

“I am mayoring,” I stated.  We cut through an empty lot to make our way back to the main road.  I checked the town menu, again.  There were a dozen buildings on this street alone that could now be repaired with our plethora of planks. 

Glancing back to the empty lot we had just walked through, something occurred to me.  “Shart, how do I build a structure?”

“Well, first you get the blueprint,” stated Shart. 

We had blueprints.  They had just been stored somewhere in town.  Since I had access to the town menu, I believed I could probably find them.  Bringing up the menus, I started to select the storage option.  However, I stopped, noticing construction had a new mark on it. 

Bringing that up instead, I saw that the blueprints from Narwal had been set up in the town menu, as well as dozens of others I hadn’t known about. 

The construction menu allowed me to select a spot.  I chose the empty lot in front of me, and a great number of the blueprints greyed out.  Eyeing the greyed-out ones, I realized they were for buildings too large for the lot I’d selected.  I saw several others that were an off shade of blue.  Those seemed to be for buildings that could be built here but were poor choices for the lot.  A corner store off an alley didn’t seem like an optimal choice.

Keeping our housing crisis in mind, I glanced back to the main menu.  I found the plans for homes and began to weigh my options.  There was a townhouse, an elaborate three-story building that could house several families.  Naturally, it required a number of components that we could not produce yet. 

Lowering my expectations, I stopped at the blueprint for a tenement I’d acquired from Narwal.  It required only twelve lumber, ten stone, and five metal, making it the least costly option on my list.  That was a bit misleading, as lumber was a catch-all term in the building menu.  Lumber represented a quantity of wood-based product.  Generally, one lumber was worth about fifty logs worth of material, but Ordinal had its own special sauce for these things.  One log represented five planks from a Lumberjack, whereas my sawmill could get seven planks out of a log. 

I selected the lumber requirement for the tenement, and the list expanded.  It now showed the actual lumber requirements.  The tenement required 2,000 boards, which represented eight of the twelve lumber.  The remaining four lumber was a hodgepodge of everything else from structural bracing to furniture. 

In case anyone was wondering, the Metal and Stone were also at a fifty-piece ratio; however, fifty bars of metal were far smaller and lighter than fifty logs.  Stone used cut stones, which were slightly smaller than four bricks squashed together.  If you wanted to make bricks out of a cut stone, you got 5.  They even weighed more than the base product because that made sense. 

“Why not just list out all the components in the first place?” I asked Shart, as I looked over the materials.

“Check metal,” he responded, “Remember that when you put in the building request, every material that is needed is shown to the person that needs to know about it.  An assortment of quests is created for each person who can fulfill the job’s requirements.”

I glanced at metal and whistled.  The most numerous items were nails, but the list was easily fifty separate items long.  The fact that it was highlighted in green indicated that we could produce all the components, so I supposed the details didn’t matter.  As long as the broad strokes of the construction project were outlined, I could see if the job was even possible or not. 

There were a number of structures that were in red, meaning that I couldn’t even get all the materials necessary.  There were others that were yellow, indicating that the town could produce the materials required but currently had no production ongoing.  The tenement was the lowest cost structure I could find on a per person basis with ten occupants.  I could have had the town build some one-story dwellings which cost half as much as the tenement but only held 4 people.

Sir Dalton had provided me with an enhanced tenement blueprint.  It wasn’t much more expensive, but it was in yellow.  It required some additional carpeting and other supplies.

“Is this just an improved version of the other blueprint?” I asked, looking at both plans.

“Yes,” Shart nodded.  “If you have the Architect skill, you can modify a blueprint.  Are you thinking about making a tenement that has a trap door and a torture room?”  The demon looked particularly hopeful and dreamy eyed.

I looked at both blueprints, but Architect didn’t trigger.  I’d have to attempt to modify a blueprint later. Perhaps I could get that skill to fire off.  I selected the tenement blueprint and the open lot. 

●                    Would you like to order a tenement to be built here? (Yes/No)

Selecting ‘Yes’, I expected something to happen.  Nothing did.  Checking the town menu, I noticed that the construction tab now had a new building in the queue to be built.  It was listed as a middle priority job.  I just left it there. 

“That’s less than impressive,” I said.

“Well, you are ordering a basic bitch building to be built.  If you want something more impressive to happen, build a more impressive building, Dum Dum,” stated Shart.

That wasn’t unreasonable.  I checked the available blueprints and found one that I liked.  It was listed in flashing yellow.

●                    Adventurer’s Guild: A guild where people can train to become adventurers!  Tier 2, Requires 80 Lumber, 40 Stone, 40 Metal, 20 Cloth.  License Required.  Item: a Quest Log book and a worker: Guild Master.

“Now that’s impressive,” I whistled, looking through the list.  I double checked the town menu to ensure that there wasn’t a badly damaged Adventurer’s Guild hidden somewhere around town.  When it became apparent that there wasn’t one, I got down to planning.  Selecting the cloth showed that carpet, tapestries, and drapes were required for the structure. 

“Carpet?” I asked Shart.

“What stupid plan do you have now?” asked the demon.

“Just thinking of building an Adventurer’s Guild,” I stated with a grin.  “How can we be a Noobtown without Noobs?”

“Do you have a Quest Log book hiding in your pants?” asked Shart.

“By your smart-ass response, I’m guessing those are hard to find.  I’ll just make one then,” I stated.  I was also wondering about the Guild Master.

“To make a Quest Log book, you’ll need magical ink.  For that, you’ll need a dungeon heart shard,” said Shart.  “You might have already found one of those, if you’d bother to run quests now and then.  You know, like a real adventurer.”

“Pish Posh, is that it?” I asked dismissively, causing Shart’s eyes to glow red for a moment. 

“You also have to have a Scribe write you one.  They’ll need to be at least an Expert.  Good luck finding one in this backwater hellhole,” stated Shart.

“Badgelor, can you sniff one out for me?” I asked, scratching him under his chin.  He tried to bite me.

“I’m not here for petting,” growled the badger, “but sure.  If there is an old musty book or an Expert Scribe lying around, I’ll sniff it out for ya,”

“That works.  Thank you very much.”  I turned back to Shart.  “So, about that carpet?”

Badgelor responded, “Tailors make carpet, ya daft bugger.  Let me sleep.”

“Tailors make clothes.  I need someone that can make textiles,” I replied, thinking about how carpet was made on Earth.

“No, you stupid bugger, tailors make carpet,” growled Badgelor.  “They have a carpet making sub skill.”

“Oh, on Earth. . .” I began, and Badgelor glared at me.  “Okay, let's go find a Tailor.

Chapter 19: Dalton’s Wards

The walk over to the Tailor’s shop was somewhat quiet.  That had been GowenDoud’s former place of residence, as well as his business.  I’d given it to Sir Dalton’s girls simply because it had been the nicest building I could think of.  GowenDoud was a massive tool, but he fancied himself a gentleman and had made an effort at making his home decent.  I’d actually offered the place to SueLeeta, after we’d made sure it was clear of traps, but she’d flatly refused.  She already had a building on the outskirts of town.  I was pretty sure that when the wall was finished, she was going to move out into the forest. 

I walked over to the doorway of the Tailor’s shop, and one of Sir Dalton’s girls opened it.  Margwal was a beautiful young woman, with deep black hair and skin that had never seen the sun.  Like, ever. Like, I thought she was an albino for a heartbeat or two, because it's unnatural for skin to be as white as hers. 

I knew instantly what she was when I saw skin that pale.  “Do you have the Engineering skill?”

“Yes,” she replied, somewhat shocked.  “I just registered with the town this morning.”

“Always nice to have an Engineer around,” I replied, stepping into the shop.  I hadn’t checked when I went over to the sawmill to see if anyone had the skill, and CarpenterJohn wasn’t as familiar at the town interface as I was.  I should have checked before I went over to do it personally.  Now that I knew she could have done it. . .I regretted nothing.

The shop itself had been built into the ground floor of a three-story townhouse.  Unfortunately, there were ten young women trying to live in it.  Even before their first night, they had quickly spilled out of the two bedrooms and into every other available space.  After the living quarters had been occupied, they’d taken the shop as well.   While I was looking around, a second girl walked into the room.  A passing glance told me that her name was Lutal.

She was a short, blond woman who gave me a curious look.  I felt my back straightening as I realized how refined and sophisticated these two young women were. 

“Can I help you, sir?” asked Lutal.  She sat down next to a mixed pile of fabric that had been abandoned on the counter.

“I just wanted to make sure you were settling in.  I also wanted to know if any of you happened to know how to sew.  I need carpets, tapestries, and drapes,” I stated, watching both girls.  Margwal’s shoulder’s slumped slightly, but Lutal seemed non-pulsed.

“I am a Journeyman Tailor,” stated Lutal evenly.  “You don’t sew carpets.”

I glared over at Badgelor, “You little traitor.”

“You need to use a loom for carpet making.  There is a suitable loom here, so I will be able to assist you.  I should warn you, though, that I specialize in hats, not carpets,” she continued evenly.  “I will require an assistant.  Margwal is an adequate one, if she is in the mood.”

Margwal gave her a cross look but nodded to me.  “We would be happy to help.”

“Hats, you say?” I considered exclaimed as Badgelor jammed a claw into my side in his own special I told you so.  I realized that I could do something to annoy Mar and make myself happy before dinner today.  Thus, I issued a quest.

Lutal suddenly adopted a distant look as the quest hit her.  She frowned slightly but accepted it.  “I suppose I can do that as well as making carpet.”

“Excellent!  I’ll need as much of that as you can make.  You’ll be receiving the requirements in your quest log,” I stated, bringing up the town menu and assigning them the quest.  Glancing to the construction menu, I saw the Adventurer’s Guild was now flashing green. 

“That might be a challenge,” said Lutal, gesturing around the room.  “We have little to no space down here as it is.  Making carpet is a space-hungry craft.”

“What if I told you I could make you some additional living space, if you provided me with the materials I’ve requested?” I asked.

Both girls looked at each other before nodding.  “In that case, we will be able to arrange something,” Margwal assured.

I brought up the town menu again and placed an enhanced tenement blueprint directly behind the totally terrific tailoring and textile townhouse.  “This is not ideal, but it will give you additional space.  I promise to get you into nicer quarters as soon as they become available.”

Looking at the resident’s menu for the building, I was surprised to see all the girls were listed as already employed in a variety of jobs.  Despite being here only one day, they had already found paying work.  I didn’t have to worry about anything else at the moment.  I bid them a fond farewell and left before they could protest too mightily.  If I got any carpet out of them, I would be satisfied.  If not, they wouldn’t get a new place to live.  No harm, no foul.

With that, I stepped back onto the main road a free man.  There were no other pressing tasks for me to do, and nothing else was on the board. 

“I think I actually finished everything that I was responsible for.” I stated, much to my own surprise.

“Well, what are you planning to do now?” asked Shart.

Chapter 20: One Week Later

“Sir,” came the distant voice again.  I adjusted myself on my warm, furry pillow and checked my fishing line.  I’d probably exhausted whatever I could catch with no bait… and no effort.  I thought about nestling back into sleep when I received a quest prompt.

●                    Urgent Quest: Wake Up!  Mar has issued you a quest.  Wake up, you lazy git!  Reward: 1 XP.  Time available:  Five minutes.

Oh, he’s serious about this.

Opening both eyes, I breathed in a deep lungful of sea air and let the warm sand relax me.  It had been a week of nothing interesting occurring.  Things had happened of course, just no goblin invasions, or assassination attempts, or Durg’s bandits leading a charge to take over the town.  Even the refugee situation seemed to be leveling out.  No new people had arrived in days.

I’d still been busy, of course.  Aside from shaking hands and kissing babies, I’d assigned some perks and leveled up my Carpentry skill to Initiate while working at the mill.  I’d also taken some time to work on my Blacksmithing skill.  I had time for things like that with things running smoothly.  It had been a fortifying change.  Ever since I’d gotten to Ordinal, I’d been attacked and nearly killed every day, and I’d needed some downtime to decompress. 

Mar was tapping his feet more frantically by the second. 

I yawned expansively and pushed away from my massive fluffy bed.  The bed yawned loudly and stretched tree trunk size legs before settling back down.  One morning Badgelor had spontaneously expanded to a new size and I’d finally figured out where all my Beast Master talents had been going.  Badgelor had been selecting them before I had a chance to use them myself. 

So far, his selections had been very effective.  That’s why, even after I figured out what he’d been doing, I left him in charge.  After all, they applied to him, and I had enough to manage.  Fishing gave a man quite a bit of time to think and I’d used it effectively I hoped.  The bottles of wine hadn’t helped much with the decision-making process. 

I grabbed Shart off his perch on a nearby log.  The wood was actually in the fire that I’d been using for my little fish fry, but Shart was a demon.  He probably considered sitting in fire to be the Earth equivalent of a spa day.  The demon made an undignified squeaking noise as I unceremoniously dropped him onto my shoulder.

I’d been sleeping next to the pier, just south of Windfall.  Fenris had mentioned it one day, and, in the boredom that followed the lull in town activity, I’d wandered out to find it.  I not only found the pier, but a perfect opportunity to play hooky.  The pier was badly damaged, but not totally wrecked.  The portion closest to the shore made for a decent fishing and napping spot. 

Checking that all my weapons were properly equipped, I nodded to myself and went in search of Mar.  Just waking up didn’t actually resolve this quest.  To do that, I had to turn the quest into the quest giver.  At a whopping 1 xp, it wasn’t worth the time to even walk over to Mar.  However, the clerk had made the quest urgent, meaning I’d gotten a flashing prompt in my vision.  It would stay there until I turned it in or the five-minute time frame ended.  If I waited for five minutes, the quest would fail automatically and vanish, costing the town 1 xp to no one's benefit. 

Mar was there in the distance, the light of the sun blasting onto his greasy white skin.  I was most impressed that the bright yellow light didn’t cause him to burst into flames.  My clerk was a mousy sort of guy, short, and with a thin face and hollow cheeks.  He looked just about how you’d expect a clerk to look.  He wore his standard expression of squinting at something just beyond his nose.  If you didn’t know him, you might assume that it was only the sunlight causing him to squint, but no.  That was just Mar.  The hat he wore, however, was new. 

“Nice hat,” I stated.  It was literally the largest and most garish hat I could think of.  It had an oversized brim, like a cowboy hat, and a tall cylindrical portion in the center.  The hat was green stripped and had a stencil of a velociraptor on the front.  The dinosaur’s tail was printed on the back.  It was the gaudiest thing I could possibly imagine, and it looked perfect on Mar.  

“Yes, Sir,” stated Mar.  “Lutal, The Haberdasher, has begun making hats for all important town jobs, as you have designated.”  He then muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “pointless expense.”

God, I hate him, but he is effective. 

The hats were a new idea.  Lutal had spare time between carpets, so I’d set her to making hats for everyone.  Why not?  A town had to have some character, and everyone wearing hats was the easiest thing I could come up with.  Plus, hats are cool.

“So, I presume my holiday is over,” I stated, sitting down on a tree trunk just outside the town’s barrier.  Mar remained firmly inside the barrier, unwilling to step even one foot out of its protective embrace.  He could clearly see no threats, just Badgelor and myself, sitting under the ruined pier by the ocean.  As it turned out, the even more greatly expanded barrier was just a bit too short to actually reach the ocean. That was going to be corrected very shortly, if I guessed right. 

“Yes,” replied Mar, barely hiding his annoyance with me.  For the thousandth time, I toyed with the idea of replacing him, but my other likely candidates had found other work.  That just left Mar.  Besides, I’d had my fill of traitorous villagers.  I didn’t want to create another one by sacking Mar for no real reason.  He was effective, just kind of an ass.  “The boat is finished.  The town finally has enough experience points to level.”

“Well then,” I said, “let's go to it.  “

I opened the town menu.  We had enough experience, and all the prerequisites were met.  Actually, we’d pretty much taken the prerequisites out of town and into OttoSherman’s shed where unspeakable things had been done to them.  We were bursting at the seams with our ever-growing population.

That had caused a bit of friction.  The various small hamlet populations, at times, rubbed each other the wrong way.  Everyone had their own way of doing things, and some rituals and customs varied greatly amongst the groups.  Fortunately, there was plenty of work to distract them.  With sufficient food and coin, everyone was happier here than they had been in their older, and presumably destroyed, homes.  At least, none of them had mentioned it to me after the first failed attempt.  One of my initial townsfolk had come out here, suggesting that the new people had something to prove.  I’d stared him down and reminded everyone present that no one had been here that long, and all were welcome. 

I let everyone into Windfall, perhaps with too little scrutiny in one case, but that’s the way I operated.  There was a war going on just outside our walls, and I wasn’t inclined to turn anyone away who needed refuge.  I also wasn’t going to give priority to villagers based on who was here first.  I was the second oldest resident of Windfall, and even I’d lived here less than a month.  There was no traditional “old population.”  Tomen Masterbrooke was still here, of course, but he was a statue and didn’t generally count.  He did have a special place in my heart, though.  No one could occupy a population slot quite like Tomen.

My eyes flicked over to Mar, who was standing perfectly still.  In menu time, my Perception was accelerated over two hundred times.  Despite my lengthy ruminations, less than a second had passed in the real world. 

“Hurry up, Dum Dum” stated my demon, who was now hovering over the Level Up control on the town menu.  He mimed pushing it, but he didn’t quite have enough control in my mental domain to actually do anything without my permission.

I clicked the button to level up the town.

●                    Windfall Village is now level 4.  You have met all the criteria for leveling up.  Congratulations!

●                    As Mayor, you may now choose a Village perk!

The barrier flickered for a moment and then began slowly pushing outward.  It rapidly washed over me and then, moments later, Badgelor.  When it hit the water, there was a twang.  Then, something new happened.  Before, the barrier had always expanded at the same universal rate.  However, when it hit the water, expansion slowed.  Other sections of the barrier continued growing normally, covering the land.  The segment over the water expanded sluggishly, taking much longer. 

“Shart?”

“It's going under the water,” stated the demon.  “Takes it a bit longer.  It's cold.  Sometimes you have trouble getting to full size in those conditions.”

●                    Windfall Pier is within Windfall’s Zone of Control.  It is affiliated with Windfall Village.  The pier is currently unclaimed.  Would you like to claim this location or demolish it for resources? (Claim/Demolish)

“That’s new,” I mentally said to Shart, checking out the demolish option.  I’d claimed stuff before but had never seen an option to bulldoze something.  “Wasn’t the Forestry Hut inside the barrier after we activated it?”

Shart thought for a moment.  “Yes, but the hut was completely destroyed and required full repairs to be functional again.  The pier is at least partially intact.”

I nodded.  That made sense.  A destroyed building wouldn’t have been worth any resources in the first place.  The act of repairing it would effectively be the same as claiming it, or at least building it new. 

The pier was badly damaged.  If it was demolished, it would only provide six Lumber and twenty Stone. Repairing it would take thirty-four Lumber but no additional Stone.  I guessed that meant that the pilings were intact. Those certainly looked like the most work to replace.  I selected “Claim.” 

A small menu opened up in the town menu, showing Windfall’s naval resources.  There were two decent fishing locations listed, as well as the boat in storage.  I selected the boat, and a launch option appeared.  I selected that as well. 

“Is the boat just going to appear?” I asked Shart, dropping out of menu time.

“By appear, do you mean “Are people going to carry it over to the pier and launch it?”  If so, the answer is yes.  Otherwise, you are an idiot,” answered Shart.

“So, no easy option,” I stated, wondering if I’d need to get involved.  Turns out, I didn’t.  Glorious Robert and his crew were pushing it down the road from Windfall to the pier on what looked like a bed of logs.  I whistled when I saw the ship.  It was around fifty feet in length with a beam of fifteen feet. 

It sort of looked like a strange Viking ship, sans any cool military equipment.  I was aware that those could be portaged across the land, but it always seemed ridiculous to me.  After seeing it done with my own eyes, I could see I had been right. 

Glorious Robert, with the aid of nearly every member of the Basstown refugees and some of the ThooClicky people, slowly pushed the boat down the road.  It was going to take them hours to get out here to launch it.

All I could do was wait.

Chapter 21: The Boat

I waited for the boat to be brought.  Mar did not.  He vanished back toward the village as soon as I promised to head to the Town Hall later.  That was all well and good.  I’d been surviving off nothing but fish and wine for the last several meals.  An actual, well-balanced meal in town would do me wonders.  

There were a few complications that I was going to have to deal with today, and I supposed now would be the time to start tackling them

“Wake up, you lazy ass,” I yelled, hurling a rock toward Badgelor.  It struck him with no effect.  His latest set of talents had closed his blunt damage loophole, making him into a full-fledged tank. 

The rock suddenly flashed back at me and, despite the person throwing it only using her left arm, I still had to actively dodge it to avoid the attack.  “We are sleeping.”

SueLeeta had shown up late last night with an extra bottle of wine.  We spent several hours talking before bedding down on opposite sides of the large badger.  I recognized all the warning signs almost instantly but managed to steer clear of SueLeeta’s suggestions, despite my now youthful body’s protests. 

“SueLeeta, I need your bed back,” I stated, as both her toned arms became visible over the badger’s bulk.  Badgelor was ignoring me, enjoying the sun and a full belly to maximum capacity.

“Let me put on my britches,” she stated.  A moment later, the arms were replaced by long, well-muscled legs.  She stood up a moment later wearing a nightshirt that was several sizes too large for her.  I was fairly convinced that the only one in town that it could possibly fit was OttoSherman. 

SueLeeta dressed quickly, her lighter leather armor slipping on without much complaint.  Not that I was watching, or anything.  I had resolutely turned my back the moment SueLeeta grabbed for the nightshirt’s hem. 

SueLeeta had explained the night before that she had two sets of armor.  One was a more common traveling armor; the other set was her best armor that she reserved for special occasions. 

“It's like this, you see,” she’d drunkenly mumbled, “I have to fix the armor, and I don’t really need the good stuff to go hunting deer.  Why bother with it?  Just wear a simple set that you can easily repair yourself.  Only put on the good suit when you get into a serious fight.”

That made sense, and I’d been more or less doing the same thing subconsciously.  My metal scale armor was quite time-consuming to repair.  It was also very loud, though the protection it offered was great.  I’d need to get a quieter suit before I went sneaking up on anyone in battle.  Until then, I would stick to my leather armor. 

SueLeeta finished dressing and walked past the rock I was sitting on to sit looking out toward the ocean.  She took her hair in her hands and began braiding it into a single large plait.  Her hands showed a level of dexterity that was nearly superhuman.  When she finished, she tossed the braid down her back.  It came to rest between her two strong, broad shoulders. 

“I’m a big girl,” she said finally.

“What?” I asked, looking down at her from my slightly elevated perch.  I, too, had rotated toward the ocean.  While she was in my line of sight, I was clearly not in hers.

“Look, I don’t know what your hang-ups are.  You said something about a wife a long time back, but I don’t recall ever meeting her.  She’s certainly not listed on any of your public stats, but I get it.  You’re saving yourself for her, for some reason, and I’m a big girl.  I can accept that.”

“SueLeeta, it's just...” I started, but she cut me off.

“No, Jim, it's fine.  I think it would have been a lot of fun, but you aren’t into that sort of thing.  I can accept that, but you have to tell Jarra the Healer,” stated SueLeeta, her voice taking on an edge that was just short of hostile.  “She’s pining over you like a schoolgirl, and you aren’t responding at all.  If you aren’t going to ever even consider being with her, then you need to tell her.  You aren’t doing any of us any favors in letting her believe that there is a chance with you.”

I felt a bit of heat as I responded, “You were trying to sleep with me last night.”

“Jim, I did sleep with you last night,” she said, a grin in her voice as she stretched lasciviously.  I took a moment to admire her very limber and well-muscled frame from the corner of my eye.  “I was trying to screw your brains out here on the beach.  However, you up and very gentlemanly refused.  I respect you for that, in a fashion, but it's not going to win you any awards.” 

“But you could have gotten pregnant,” I said.  I hadn’t even heard anyone mention birth control in this world.  Then again, SueLeeta wasn’t a chaste woman, by any account, and she had managed to avoid motherhood.

“Jim, you are cute and all, but I’m not about to select “Yes” on a pregnancy option, even if you do,” she said.  She turned and looked at my face very intently for a long moment.  I wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but she gave her head an almost imperceptible shake and looked back to the water. 

Of course.  On Ordinal, where everything was menu driven, that made a sort of sense.  I wondered if there was an option to turn off uncontrolled morning wood, as well.  That explained SueLeeta’s behavior, as well as some of the other women’s, quite easily.  If you could have an unlimited amount of sex without any consequences, why wouldn’t you?  Furthermore, you could check a partner for diseases with the Lore skill, which SueLeeta possessed.  Hell, Jarra the Healer could probably make an ointment that would cure most non-magical diseases easily enough, especially with a Woodsman out looking for ingredients. 

I am woman, hear me roar.

“I’ll think on that,” I stated.  In the distance, I saw a Narwhal break the surface.  The giant whale’s horn shone in the brilliant sunlight.  “I always kind of thought that Narwal was named after those whales.”

“Um, no, Mister Historian,” replied SueLeeta, laughing good-naturedly.   “Narwal was named for Duke Narwal, known more commonly as the Grey Fortress.  He never lost a defensive engagement.”

“That’s a strange name,” I said offhandedly.

“No, what’s strange is that you thought a town would be named after horny whales.”  SueLeeta grinned again.  “Besides, you have no room to question names, JIM.”

I frowned at her, and her grin widened.  It was that schoolgirl grin that she saved for when she was being particularly corny.  It faded after a moment, and she became more serious. 

“Don’t think too long,” SueLeeta sighed, standing to leave.  She was spending her day ranging east of Ironpass Mine.  “Jarra the Healer is a very close friend of mine.  We’ve been through a lot together.  I want her to be happy, not pining over a big idiot who can’t get his priorities straight.”

This time, I turned away. 

Chapter 22: Morning Showers

After repeatedly failing to wake Badgelor, I did the only other thing I could think of.  I sent Shart to do the job.  The demon cackled before diving into the ocean.  For a long moment, nothing happened.  Then, I noticed the water begin to swirl.  

“This isn’t going to be good,” I said.

“What are you blathering blowhards talking about?” grumbled the badger, warm and happy on the sandy beach.

“Is there nothing I can do to get you up?” I asked, glancing at the growing swirl. 

“Why do I need to?  Are you going to do something other than lounge around today?  You don’t need me for that.  I’m just going to sleep here,” replied Badgelor. 

He would be much easier to contend with out here, not bothering anyone.  Badgelor tended to be less than thrilled with everyone in town on a good day.  Needlessly disturbing him now seemed cruel.  Then again, he had put bait down my shirt last night.  I took a step back as Shart erupted from the water and flew nearly twenty feet over the badger.

My demon struck a pose midair and spit an arm wide stream of sea water all over my lazy badger.  Badgelor’s warm rest ended instantly, as he was doused with icy saltwater.  He instantly snapped his head toward the source, which only caused the frigid water to target his face instead of his back. 

“You’re gonna get it,” cried Badgelor, snarling. 

The wet badger rushed toward me, but I wasn’t really in the mood to get wet.  I used my Mobility to leap backward, out of his reach.  Then, he tried leaping toward Shart, but he didn’t have nearly the range to pull that off.  Finally, he slumped down and took the stream of questionable water all over his back until it puttered out.

“I will have vengeance on both of you for this,” he grumbled. 

We had a decent fish breakfast and, before I realized it, the boat appeared on the beach. Glorious Robert grinned like a mad man as they got the boat to the edge of the beach, preparing to haul it across the sand.  On Earth, that would have been a terrible idea; on Ordinal, I’m guessing it would only do a bit of Durability Damage.  It wouldn’t matter much.   Of course, when they got to the beach, the logs stopped working.  Where their progress had been slow before, now it was almost nonexistent. With all the manpower on the job, I didn’t really see what I could do to help.  Glorious Robert apparently did.

“Jim, ya lazy pisser, I got forty guys helping me with this boat, and you are over there being a lazy fucker,” yelled Glorious Robert. 

“Badgelor, want to go dig a hole?” I asked.  Badgelor looked over before grinning.  In his newly expanded size, he could tear vast rents into the beach.  Before long, he had made a trench for the ship’s keel.  It would help guide the boat to the water for launching. 

“Thanks, your mayorship,” ripped out Glorious Robert sarcastically.  They slid the boat into the trench.  That made the sand much easier to push through.  By the time I’d walked over to her, the men had pushed the boat far enough out that any further assistance was unnecessary.  

Within the first five minutes, the boat was far enough out to use nets that I was surprised Windfall even had.  Before long, sailors were pulling out their first few fish.  Glorious Robert was busy screaming at everyone.  Whether it was in congratulations or anger, I couldn’t tell.

“Probably both,” stated Shart.

“They could at least throw us one,” stated Badgelor.

“You just ate,” I replied.

“That was fifteen minutes ago,” stated the badger.  “I’m at my limit here.”

By the time I was done with my boat and fish watching, Badgelor was dry.  He’d figured out the trick of shrinking and expanding his body 2-3 times rapidly, causing all the water to more or less fall off him.  He still looked upset.  Well, he always looked upset.  He just looked more upset than usual. 

“Let's get back to Windfall.  I need to do some mayoring,” I stated.

“I knew it,” grumbled the badger.

Chapter 23: Mayoring

The trip into town was uneventful.  Every time I walked through the southern gate, I was surprised.  So much of it had been repaired.  The Masons were doing a fantastic job.  The wall surrounding the town was more or less intact now, making traveling through the gates preferable to walking through the once gaping holes.  Only the northeastern portion of the wall remained unchanged.  It was incredibly dinged up, which is why it had been saved for last.  That segment was going to require the most repair of all the wall’s sections.

In so far as I could tell, the northeastern part of town was where whatever had originally killed Windfall had started.  That entire area of town was badly damaged, with a large portion burned down entirely.  There were still a number of partially intact buildings, as GowenDoud had figured out, but no one else ventured there.  The place was creepy, especially compared to the other parts of town.

Windfall was divided into 4 quarters.  The northwestern quarter contained the lumber mill and foundry.  Both buildings sat next to the stream.  Each were producing a good quantity of supplies that the town desperately needed to facilitate repairs.  Stone was actually produced directly at Iron Pass Mine rather than being carted here and converted. 

I watched one of the Masons using her pick to strike a stone block in just the right spot causing the entire block of stone to fall apart into usable bricks and that still looked like something out of a cartoon.  Rapid Brickmaking was a perk that she’d just picked up, and the other Masons were cheering.  With my Perception skill I was able to catch a few words and she had taken a Journeyman perk that let her make lower tier building materials more quickly.  It looked like everyone was improving.  

The southwestern quarter was mainly agricultural.  It included farming and the processing of agricultural goods.  AvaSophia’s home was there.  I suppose it was Fenris’ home, as well, but one did not approach that household and think anything of the sort.  The Creek house, as it was called, was also near the creek, giving the land good irrigation.  There was a grain mill there; however, it was still broken.  Fixing it required a mill stone that Narwal did not possess and our Masons could not make.  A merchant in Narwal said he might be able to get one, though, and had labeled an exorbitant price of 150 gold.  Blots had talked the merchant down to 125 gold, along with a few iron goods that we could readily supply.  All we had to do was wait for the merchant to locate one. 

The southeastern portion was what I’d describe as the ‘magical’ part of town.  It was the least occupied, at the moment, as we lacked any real magical industry.  Jarra the Healer maintained her small alchemy lab there, along with the herb garden that I’d spent my first batch of crystals on.  Now, we had more crystals coming in.  Jarra the Healer was grinding them down and using them to gain potent reagents that were required to produce healing potions.  I preferred for her to get them that way than the … alternative method we’d discovered.

“Taint that the truth,” chuckled Shart, so I punched him. 

Finally, we had the northeastern, creepy, possibly haunted, section of town.  I didn’t fully know what that tract had been used for, but I could make some educated guesses.  Primarily, the absence of a devoted trading area elsewhere told me that there must have been a large market there at some point.  At least, that’s what the road map indicated; there were more good routes there than anywhere else.  In fact, while there were four main entrances to the town square, only this district had a direct road from the center of town. 

“That would be an interesting trip for a wagon,” I’d mentioned to Shart.  “Given how rough that road is, I don’t see how a wagon could travel it.”

“Just because you couldn’t do it, doesn’t mean that someone else couldn’t,” replied the demon. “Besides, anything is possible with the Magic of Commerce.”

That was Shart’s favorite saying about the town, and I was starting to see what he was talking about.  Presently, the town was as close to the libertarian idea of no regulations as anywhere I’d ever seen, and we were doing just fine.  Then again, there were a number of underlying factors, such as the well-planned city and the roads that allowed easy movement, that facilitated our success.  I decided to let it pass.  No one was asking questions, so I wasn’t going to bother waxing philosophical.

People waved to me as I strolled through town, and I waved back.  That wasn’t new, but it was much more common since I’d spent my week lazing about.  Turns out not having me running back and forth everywhere was calming for the people.  It was almost as if seeing me frantic made them think that they, too, should feel frantic.  It was probably the case.  As Mar, in his outrageously floppy hat, could manage most things, I’d decided that my job was less about freaking out and more about troubleshooting the important bits. 

Part of my job, I’d decided, was doing point inspections.  I’d begun meandering around town in the past week, and people seemed to like that.  They would occasionally tell me their troubles, and I’d get a quest.  More often than not, though, Mar would figure out difficulties and assign solutions to other people in town.  He is efficient. 

I walked through the town until I found myself in the square next to the western gate.  A small but very loud number of street vendors had started selling all sorts of foodstuffs.  If you waited long enough, the sweets vendor sold pies.  The western gate was lovingly referred to by some as the Creek Gate, despite the creek being hundreds of yards behind me.  The local equivalent of yards was called a log, based on a unit of measurement used by Lumberjacks.  I occasionally flipped between the two mentally.  Old habits die hard, and logs as a measurement sounded silly in my head.  Unfortunately, yards were sillier to everyone else, so I had to be careful.  When I described a yard, people thought I was talking about a location.

I was buying a ball of fried batter that passed as the local equivalent of a donut, when I was stopped by EstherSasha.  She was waving me down quite emphatically.

“I made some of your favorite,” she stated, handing me a bowl of what appeared to be a potato that had lost the will to live and a hunk of cheese. 

“Thanks,” I said, throwing her a silver.  Every other stall was mobbed, but not her’s.  I felt bad.  Her food was the most nutritious of all the food there, due to her high Cooking skill.  Still, her potato tasted like a turnip, and I didn’t understand how that was possible.

My wife loved turnips.  I ate my potato with a sad smile and continued through the gate.  I had more business to attend to out west.     

The vast plain outside the town was my current destination.  We still had work parties on the current bumper industry of Windfall, corpse disposal.  There had been a massive fight out there, when the Puma gang battled the bulk of the goblin forces.  A do or die battle had raged, with neither side claiming victory.  The Pumas had retreated with less than 25% of their numbers, and the demoralized remains of the goblin forces hadn’t posed even a slight impediment for Windfall.

Zorlando, who had remained in Windfall during my first trip to Narwal, had even complained that it was going to be impossible to speak of his great victory with a straight face, the goblins were so badly damaged in their previous battle.  I tried not to think about it overmuch.  Goblins were evil little creatures who could not be trusted, but I didn’t enjoy killing them for sport, either.  Those last skirmishes had been some especially one-sided, bloody fights. 

Badgelor grinned.  “You didn’t say we were coming here!”  He dashed forward, looking for more goblin corpses.  He was like a kid in a candy store. 

“They are totally rotten,” I said, groaning. 

“Gives them flavor,” he responded, finding a pile and diving in.  The nearby men were terrified, then upset.  They finally settled on happy, because the more Badgelor ate, the less they had to burn.  Badgelor’s new form, at full size, was about as tall as a horse.  However, he was twice as wide as a Clydesdale.  It was his Ultimate Form, sort of like Super Badger 2, and I expected him to get glowing yellow fur with a power aura.  Alas, that was not the case.  Though, in his large form, his ability to pass gas was worthy of the Legendary Super Badgers of yore. 

We had a bit of an issue with that, because I wasn’t going to call him Ultimate Badgelor when he was this size, and he wasn’t going to respond to anything but that.  I wasn’t sure either of us was that serious.  Everyone else just screamed when they saw a horse-sized badger walking toward them, so we agreed that he wouldn’t use it in town.   

A crew of thirty from the village was busy disposing of corpses.  There had been several thousand bodies, but, by now, they were mostly in the large mass graves that had been dug.  The only issue was that all those bodies needed burned or we’d have a zombie horde.  Mind you, the massive pile of molding, stinking corpses would have had to be dealt with pretty quickly anyway.  Ultimately, the threat of undead goblins was a big motivator which explained why half the men here were armed with maces and the other half with boar spears. 

“A crossbar set just below the head of the spear allows them to pin the zombie down, so the other guy can smash its head in,” stated Shart.  We watched as the group surveyed the day’s unburned pits.

What I was mainly interested in was the pile of treasure that had been gathered up from the bodies.  Every person and goblin seemed to have small sums of coin on them.  It all got deposited into the chest in the central work area.  While I was sure that some amount of treasure was going to vanish into the unknown, I had tried to head off thievery.  I made it very clear at the beginning of the endeavor that if I caught anyone, there would be serious consequences.  I’d actually been surprised when my Sense Motive skill triggered.  It had allowed me to sort out a few of the less honest townsfolk. 

Of course, there was honesty and there was honesty.  You can trust some people with your life, just not your money.  However, it wasn’t my money.  Since the battle was for the town, the town got to keep most of it even if I was the supreme general who had led our forces to victory.  I wasn’t worried about money, though.  I still had the goblin cavern located below the town.  It was filled with the exploded remains of the Elite Goblin army.  If I left it totally unattended for more than a few days, those bodies would merge into some sort of undead horror. 

I’d have to get my loot on soon. 

“You don’t seem as interested in loot as I expected,” stated Shart.

“Well, what am I going to find?” I asked.  “More goblin weapons?  There doesn’t seem to be any magical weapons in the entire valley, except this.”  I pulled out my Dagger of Wounding.  It was the only actual magical weapon I’d found on Ordinal that I still had in my possession.  I’d had a pair of shortswords, but they were both destroyed in my earlier battles. 

●                    Dagger of Wounding: item class, common, Durability 1/35, Damage 12-19, bonus effects

○                    Bleeding: Your target will suffer Damage equal to 50% of weapon damage over 12 seconds (active) Requires Puncture skill

○                    Savage Wound: All wounds caused by this weapon’s effects are increased by 50%.  Requires Wounding skill.

Puncture and Wounding were ranked skills that supported their linked skill.  Unlike the Dagger skill, which grew in mastery levels from Unskilled to Journeyman and beyond, the ranked skills just had a number that increased their effectiveness.  I guessed they didn’t have a maximum skill cap, but the cost per rank got prohibitively expensive.  Furthermore, ranked skills were tied to very limited groups; thus, my Puncture and Wounding skills only applied to daggers. 

As far as other magical items, I did still have my jewelry.  I had a Ring of Vitality, which was supposed to give me extra Hit Points and Stamina.  I was also wearing an amulet that made me harder to detect.  It worked as a passive effect, giving me a few points of Mana.  Hardly world shattering, but I wasn’t going to turn my nose up at any extra stealthiness.  At one point, I’d also possessed a magical rod, but it had sadly been circumcised to bits.

Some of my other non-magical equipment had properties like Fast, Durable, or Enduring.  These properties made them better than the base version of themselves, but those were not magical effects, per se.  My longsword was capable of resisting a tremendous amount of damage, but, ultimately, it functioned just like any old longsword.  Its only claim to fame was being hard to break.  My Dagger of Wounding was a magical skill dagger.  It granted me the ability to use some subskills that I didn’t possess before I began using it.  The neat thing for me was that with my Jack of All Trades ability and my Unbound trait, I’d been able to learn the associated skills for the weapon.  Doing so allowed me to use the skills later, even when I wasn’t using the magical dagger.  It also further improved those skills when I used them later. 

Unfortunately, the Dagger of Wounding was badly damaged, teetering on the verge of uselessness.   I figured that I’d get about one more thrust out of it before it broke.  That would most likely occur during a huge battle, right when I needed it the most.

“You still have that,” replied Shart, eyeing the Dagger of Wounding.  It was the first actual weapon I’d found on Ordinal, not counting the Almighty Stick of Demon Smiting, which I’d discarded after Shart’s first encounter with the weapon.  

“Where did you think it was?” I replied, as Badgelor went all Scrooge McDuck through a pile of corpses, as if they were his fortune.  He was slurping and giggling in a way I didn’t find at all wholesome.

“How is he doing that?” asked Shart in amazement, before turning back to me.  “I thought you lost it.  You tend to drop equipment fairly regularly.”

It was a fair point.  I’d lost quite a few pieces of equipment since I’d been on Ordinal.  I’d recovered some of them, but I was on my fifth bow.  “No, I didn’t,” I replied.  “I put it in a sheath and just kept it.  It's listed in my inventory.”

“I do not even want to see your inventory,” replied Shart, as he concentrated for a moment.  “Good shit, the first thing listed is 273 pieces of lint.”

“I think you may have the filters set too low,” I replied, toying with my inventory.  The world around me slowed, leaving Badgelor in a particularly corpse-tastic moment.  I disabled a few settings; suddenly, I had everything from lint to pubic hair in my inventory.  Wait a minute.  Not all the pubic hair was mine.

“How did Badgelor’s hair get there?” I asked.  That’s more than a little appalling. 

“He likes to shrink and sleep in your pants while you’re bathing,” replied the demon.  “He says it makes him feel safe.  I’m assuming he feels that way because he forgets you are an incompetent idiot.”

I rotated my head around to look Shart full in the face.  Considering he was on my shoulder, we were quite literally eye to eye.  I raised my eyebrows questioningly.

Shart had the good grace to look away.  “When Badgelor was very small, he used to do the same thing with Charles.  Baby Badgelor liked warm snuggles and familiar smells.”

“That Charles guy really messed with his head,” I stated, remembering a few cats I’d had that were the same way.  It was hard to imagine Badgelor actually doing that, however.  He seemed a bit more… violently insane.

When Badgelor finally had his fill, he crawled out of the pile of less than fresh corpses with a grin.  “Ready?”

“Yup,” I stated.  “Back to the creek, clean yourself up, and take a nap.”

He nodded contentedly and trotted off.

“If you knew he was going to do that, why did you bring him here?” asked Shart.

“It made him happy,” I stated.  “In case you hadn’t noticed, he’s kind of violently insane.”

Chapter 24: Magical Doodads

“Mr Mayor, I think you should look at this,” shouted RobSimon.  He was the acting foreman of the corpse disposal crew.  He led me over to a body so contorted and covered in gore that I couldn’t even guess if it was goblin or bandit. 

Shart hissed. “I smell magic.”

“Really,” I said, peering at the mangled body in front of me.  I toyed with the idea of force feeding it to Shart.  His inventory system would sort it out, and it would give me some dodgeball throwing practice.  Eventually, I decided to grab the body by the legs and flip it over.  Thankfully, the rigamortus had set in; the body was stiff as a board. 

Using Lore on the dead required far more concentration than using it on the living.  I screwed up my face and squinted my eyes, willing information to appear. 

“What are you doing?” asked Shart. 

“Shhhhhhh.” I responded, straining from the effort.

“Stop making that face.  People are going to think you are into necrophilia,” the demon advised. 

Finally, words began appearing over what used to be a whole head.  It was Melphius, the level 9 Hunter that I’d encountered in the woods.  He had been working with the bandits and had been the one responsible for striking Badgelor in the head with an arrow.  A quick glance at the body told me his probable cause of death was a spear to the gut.  Although, it also could have been the arrows to the torso.  The cracked skull might have done it, too.  Perhaps, the cause could have been the shredded leg. 

“Wow, they did a number on him,” whistled Shart. 

“Any idea which wound killed him?” I asked. 

“What difference does it make?  Dead is dead.  I have no desire to play crime scene investigator,” answered Shart.  He stared at me for a long moment, seemingly considering something momentous.   “I mean,” he eventually added, “I could cast a spell to raise him.  Then, you could ask him yourself, if you are so desperate to know.  What’s the point, though?  You will know how he died, but he will be alive again.”

I gaped at my demonic companion.  “Wait.”

“Yes?” Shart grinned.

“Wait just a minute.”

“Yes, Dum Dum?”

I blinked at Shart.  Shart stared owlishly back, patiently waiting for me to ask the question before he would give me the answer.

Finally, I gave in.  “You can bring people back from the dead?”

“Of course.”

“Like a zombie?” I asked.

“No.  Like a real person.  Just like the person was when they were living the first time.

“So, you don’t die for real here?”

“You can.”

“Why, though?  Why, when people have that kind of power?”

“First off, not everyone can do it.  There are a very miniscule number of people that can even attempt it.  I can, but I am far better than a person.  Don’t group me with them.  Secondly, it requires a high level of resources to pull it off.  I can do it once.  That’s it, due to my current predicament as the diminished companion to a dimwit.  Third, IF YOU MUST KNOW, I was saving it for you.”

My mouth fell open.  “What?”

“I.  Was.  Saving.  It.  For.  You.”

“Why?”

Shart rolled his eyes.  “Do you really not know?”

I cocked my head. “Is it because you think I’m incompetent and likely to die?”

“That’s part of it,” Shart nodded.  “Go on.”

I hesitated.  “I mean, of course I have feelings for you.  I think of you kind of like my frenemy and I would miss you if...”

“Fucking hell, I have to spell everything out for you.  If you die, it will be much harder for me to get through the Demon Door!”

We stared at each other in silence.  What a dick.

I began looting Melphius’ gear.  Most of it had been either broken or carried off by goblins.  I did find something in a small pouch, however.

●                    Arrowhead of Fire: item class, common.  Durability 1/1.  Ammunition Damage 2-12.  Fire

●                    Arrowhead Unknown

●                    Arrowhead Unknown

Holding up the three flint arrowheads, I examined the Fire one first.  It was simple flint, with a small rune inscribed into the side.  The writing looked very similar to the Fire Runes I had to visualize when casting my Flame Bolt spell.  Touching the arrowhead, it felt warm.  I could instantly tell that it was a magical item. 

The other two were more of a mystery.   They didn’t react when touched, and I felt no sensations from either one.  Checking both, I found runes etched into each.  One was a swirly mass of gibberish that I didn’t recognize at all.  The other was at least in line with something I recognized from my Biological Aeromancy school.  Thankfully, it wasn’t identical.  Who needed an arrow that made people break wind?

“Surprised they aren’t made of steel,” I remarked as I examined them.

“Why would they be?” replied Shart.  That made me think.  While an item was magically enhanced, it became almost invulnerable to damage.  Flint was pretty sharp.  My Boyer skill told me that, for arrowheads, these pieces were especially well-crafted.  Razor-sharp, unbreakable, magical rock arrowheads would overcome most of their limitations quickly. 

“My magical dagger isn’t made of flint, and it's badly damaged from use,” I stated. 

Shart exhaled loudly.  “Dum Dum, it's not a one-shot item.  One shot items, such as arrowheads or scrolls, are heavily enchanted.  The magical enchantments generate the item’s Durability.  You could damage them, if you wanted to, but it's difficult.  Your dagger, on the other hand, is designed to be used repeatedly.  The act of using the enchantment, as well as physically using the weapon, both reduce its Durability.”

“Potions are one shot items,” I said.

“Potions are concocted with magical ingredients.  They aren’t regular items that are enchanted later.  It's totally different,” harrumphed the demon.

“That makes sense, I suppose.  All right then, can you tell me what these two arrows are?” I asked, gesturing to the unknown arrowheads.

“One has an ice effect, and the other has a lightning effect,” replied the demon, gesturing to each arrowhead in turn. 

“The lightning rune looks similar to my Biological Aeromancy rune,” I stated, examining it closer.

“It would.  Aeromancy is the basis for the elemental school of Air.  That’s why your noxious barrier can intercept lightning spells reasonably well. 

I looked back at the items.  Now that I knew a bit about them, I could see more details.

●                    Arrowhead of Ice: item class, common.  Durability 1/1.  Ammunition Damage 2-12.  Ice

●                    Arrowhead of Lighting: item class, common.  Durability 1/1.  Ammunition Damage 2-12. Lighting

●                    You have learned the Scan skill.  You are unskilled.  You can recognize what obvious magical items do, obviously.

Frowning, I turned to Shart.  “Hey, when you had to scan items, you used a spell.  I could see these items without one.”

“Yes, I use spells for most things,” said the demon slowly.  “Hmmmm, you picked up the Scan skill.  That’s a rare skill.  How do you keep learning rare skills by just looking at things?”

Instantly, my head felt weird.  Shart had begun rummaging around through all my stats and tabs.  It took him virtually no effort and always left me feeling slightly violated.  I felt him prying around for several minutes, before he grumpily emerged.

“It's that stupid Jack of All Trades ability, again,” grumbled Shart.  He truly hated that ability.

I thought about it.  Jack of All Trades gave me a slight chance of successfully using a skill, even if I was unskilled in it.  The Unbound ability helped me learn new skills at an accelerated rate, which was becoming slightly annoying.  I’d picked up Spitting when I hocked a loogie into a fire.  I’d learned Calligraphy by peeing my name in the sand at the beach.  I’d also learned a Laundering subskill, Ironing, by pressing my torso against a stove that I thought was unlit. 

Iron Will had not saved my dignity when I pulled free from the hot surface. 

Checking to see if my more mundane info messages were disabled, I continued pondering.

I still needed to be doing something to actually trigger the Jack of All Trades ability.  Because it triggered automatically, that massively opened my ability to learn skills.  I was discovering that it was a double-edged sword, though.  With a limited time to practice my skills, I was forever lost in a pool of very good potential options with no clear path to success.  I’d learned that the hard way while fighting against the bandits. 

In all, having too many skills was a good problem to have.  I was just going to have to focus on the ones that were important.  Then, a thought occurred to me.

“Shart, do you know how to make magical weapons?”

“Of course, why do you want to . . .” began the demon, “Oh, no.”

Well, that was joyous news.

Chapter 25: Learning a New Skill

“This is a terrible idea,” stated Shart, after I’d thanked the men, emptied the chest, and left.  As mayor, I could apparently just will the chest’s contents back to the town.  The only requirement was that I be in the town’s zone of control which, due to the recent barrier expansion, now included this section of the battlefield. 

“I'm going to make a magical sword,” I stated to Shart.  I was in menu time again, eyeing my latest two Mage Knight perks; both were looking pretty good now. Summon Blade let me return a sword to my hand from any distance, while Dimensional Sheath let me store the blade in a pocket dimension.  You had to commit Mana to utilize the abilities, but it was only five points per option.  I was keen on using my wealth of perks for something.  Now, someone was going to have a bitch of a time stealing my sword

Fool me once.

I remembered that Rogue had a Poison Making perk, so I quickly eyeballed the rest of my classes for any other crafting perks.  I found Sword Smith under Duelist, which made superior versions of that class’s primary weapon.  Woodsman had a similar perk for Bows, and Adventurer had one for Daggers.  I briefly considered taking the Dagger perk, Dagger Smithing, to see if I could repair my Dagger of Wounding.  Yet, I held off.  I didn’t want to accidentally commit to a path that didn’t grant me an advantage.  I had one decent example of a magical weapon, and, for all I knew, it required some truly rare materials to repair. 

Finally, I noticed Rune Smith under Mage Knight and grinned.  That was more like what I was looking for.  Rune Smith enhanced my ability to inscribe weapons.  Inscribing, the art of drawing runes on weapons, granted effects on equipment.  It could be useful in a variety of ways and didn’t commit me to a specific path that I was unsure of.  I had a bit of time, I decided, so I’d try some inscriptions and see if it was practical to invest in the perk.

I eventually crossed through the Western Gate and continued down the road toward the town square, stopping when I reached the creek.  A thought occurred to me and I reached down to pick up a stone from the creek bed and compared it to the arrowhead, mentally mapping out the markings. 

“Took you long enough,” grumbled Badgelor.  He was bobbing up and down in the water, floating in it like an otter. 

“Well, I figured you’d want more time to bathe.  You know, get squeaky clean after your meal,” I chuckled, getting out one of my daggers.  I ran my hands along it, trying to find a smooth surface on the stone. 

“Not enough time in the world for that, Jim,” Shart loudly responded.

“I will reach into your throat and pull out your voice box, you little git,” yelled the badger, sitting up.  The quick action caused him to flip over in the water.  He came sputtering up a moment later, much to Shart’s amusement.  Badgelor resumed his serene floating, careful to stay next to Shart and I as we walked downstream. Walking by the water was refreshing.  Plus, it gave me a handy place to dump failures. 

I stopped for a moment, copying the fire rune from the arrowhead onto the rock.  It took me a few tries to get the rune just right.  I was on my third attempt when I got a prompt.

●                    You have crafted Rock of Fire: item class, poor.  Durability 1/1.  Ammunition Damage 1-3. Fire.  Unstable.  Would you like to invest 20 Mana into the inscription to make it permanent? (Yes/No)

“This is a bad idea,” stated Shart.  I dumped the 20 points of Mana into the stone and promptly threw it toward the creek.  It exploded in midair, a shower of sparks raining down.  It was tiny and nearly silent, visible only if one was looking at it.   

“That could have hurt you,” advised the demon.  I picked up more stones and began inscribing.

“I doubt 3 points of Damage would do much,” I replied, as I continued fiddling with the lines.

Shart harrumphed and waited until I’d finished another, filled it with Mana, and tossed it into the air.  It, likewise, exploded before it landed in the water.

“I take it they are so unstable because I’m unskilled, and they are just plain rocks?”

“Yes,” grumbled Shart.  “You’d need to shape them slightly or adjust your runes to better suit the material.  Doing so should avoid them detonating early.”

On the fifth inscribed rock, the skill finally clicked, just like I figured it would. 

●                    You have learned the skill Inscribe Rune.  You are Amateur.  Through a few simple lines, you unlock the power of the universe.

With Inscribe Rune, I’d known generally what needed to be done to make the Runes work.  Now, with practice, I was well on my way to learning how to properly enchant items.  I paused for a moment to drag up the skill notification. 

I tossed that one.  It lingered on the water’s surface just long enough to make me raise my eyebrows.  Then, it exploded, throwing a few drops of water in my direction. 

“Aren’t you concerned that I’m going to blow you up?” I asked Badgelor, who had continued to bob next to me.

“Why would I be?” replied the badger.  “You are my companion.”

“So, you can trust me,” I replied.

“No,” said the badger, flatly refusing to elaborate.  He must have grown tired of me staring at him, because he heaved a huge sigh.  “Fine.  It’s because I took a few talents that render me highly resistant to your magical attacks.  These runes are included in that.”

“That seems OP,” I said.  “What if you try to kill me.”

Badgelor grinned, “Never betray a badger, Jim.”

After inscribing one more stone and tossing it into the water, I watched the stone slowly descend.  When it finally hit the bottom of the creek, it, too, exploded.  The time that it had taken for the stone to impact the mostly solid creek bottom had been the delay.  I sat and began inscribing several other rocks, watching my skill level increase ever so slowly.  Had I been causing Damage with them, I’d have earned a more substantial increase.  However, I’d need targets for that. 

“I wonder if there are any fish in the creek,” I said out loud, peering into the water.  After one throw, I discovered that fish only added a single Skill Point to the mix.  I decided against leveling that way.  I wasn’t sure how Windfall’s residents would feel about seeing their mayor nonchalantly bombing marine life.  In the end, the fastest way to level was to make another seventy-five stones, each of which took about two minutes to complete. 

As I finished the last one, I received a notice that my skill level was now up to Novice.  I was also informed that I couldn’t earn any more Skill Points from inscribing natural rocks. 

I looked at the evidence of my craftsmanship.  I’d discovered that after magical enchantment, the rock would last, at most, two minutes.  Then, it would catch fire and burn into ash.  You could not just leave them sitting around and expect them to remain.  If the rock was touched by anything, it exploded. 

That poor dragonfly.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” stated Shart, looking at the dozens of small burn marks around this part of the creek.

“It's not all bad,” I stated, clutching one of the stable stones I’d just made.  My progress had gone from almost exploding in my hands, to exploding midair and now to sitting on the ground twitching like a lit firecracker.  For this Rune, I’d found a piece of worked stone in the creek bed.  While carving the Rune, I’d achieved a critical success.  Now, I was holding a rune that was both more powerful and more stable than any of the others I’d crafted to date.   

●                    You have crafted Rock of Fire: item class common.  Durability 1/1.  Ammunition Damage 1-6.  Fire, explosive.

“The missus will be mad,” stated a familiar voice, as Kappa the Warg walked over to the creek. 

“It's a few minor burns.  Besides, AvaSophia is always mad at me,” I stated, looking around.  It was only then that I realized that some of the grass beside the creek was, in fact, wildflowers.   

“That is so,” replied Kappa.  “I think you should not be telling her about the fires.”

“Alright,” I responded.  “Why are you here alone?”

“They went to the inn named after the stupid badger.  AvaSophia did not want to cook tonight.  The season is almost changing,” replied Kappa.  AvaSophia was a mixture of private woman, and woman that liked to show off her husband.  Fenris was due back earlier today from Narwal caravan duty, so this was as good an excuse as any to celebrate.

“You didn’t check if Fenris was back,” chuckled Shart.

“I didn’t get any notices of problems,” I replied, tucking away my dagger.  I went to place the stone in my pouch before realizing it might explode.  I wasn’t entirely sure how long a truly stable rock would last.  I instead opted to put it in Shart’s belly.  Looking around again, I discovered more scorch marks.  I might have done more damage to the land than previously thought.

I sighed.  One more thing may put AvaSophia off me forever, so I decided to skedaddle.  Some people just didn’t like you, no matter how many times you saved them and their children from certain doom.  I thought the problem probably had to do with me constantly placing her husband in certain doom, but who can tell with women?

I reflected about the changing season that Kappa mentioned.  If I thought hard, I supposed that I could notice a difference in temperature.  It couldn’t have been more than a couple of degrees, though.  Surely that didn’t qualify as a change in seasons.  Right now, the air was still warm enough at night to be Ohio shorts weather, which meant low 60’s.  Apparently, it would get colder here soon.  The locals were talking about it with great enthusiasm.  Just north of the mountains, the climate changed radically.  They were used to getting feet of snow over the winter.  Most of the villagers were positive that Windfall and the valley surrounding it would remain mostly temperate year around. 

I’d always meant to bring my wife to a place like this to retire.  I closed my eyes, letting the sound of the creek wash over me.  We had been so close.  Our eldest had just moved out, and our two younger boys were well on their way to becoming functional adults.  We’d done our time, and we were getting ready to goof off properly.  Then, I had to go and die on her.  It felt so much like abandoning them.  It hurt.  What made it worse was that there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. 

In my soul, I had a little box.  In that box were all the memories of my previous life.  Most of those memories were about my beautiful wife and my great kids.  It hadn’t even been a month since I’d gotten here, and I’d steadfastly refused to unpack that box.  I’d be a sobbing ruin when that happened.  Occasionally, tiny remembrances would try to sneak their way out at the most inconvenient times, but they were violently shoved back inside their box.   

Kappa is watching you.

I snorted at him in the way of Wargs, and he frowned back at me. He knew something was up, but he couldn’t read human well enough to see what it was.  I noticed Shart had gotten uncharacteristically quiet.  I looked up at him.

“If you are through feeling your feelings, shove a tampon in your crying vagina and let’s go,” stated the demon.

“Men can be emotional too,” I responded.

“Men can.  I’m looking at a giant pussy, though,” stated the demon flatly.  I wasn’t sure he meant it misogynistically or not.  That was the problem with Shart.  Well, that was a problem with Shart.  He had loads of them, but a big one was his thinking that all people were garbage.  I began walking down the creek bed, letting the water and mud slosh between my toes. 

“You can’t go back,” he stated.  “You’re stuck with me forever.”

That was horrifying on many levels.  I found a spot to get out of the creek and emerged from its warm silt.  I started thumbing my Ring of Vitality, as I used to do with my wedding ring.  Once I realized what I was doing, I quickly and forcefully stopped myself.  I had only ever played with my wedding ring when I was thinking about my wife.  I absolutely did not need to jump right back down that hole.  As I gave the ring one last small stroke, I felt a distinct difference in it.

Is it chipped?

As I stepped back onto the road, I glanced at my ring. 

●                    Ring of Vitality, lesser, +10 Stamina, +10 Hit Points.  Condition:  Broken

“Wait, my magical ring is broken,” I stated.  “How long has it been like this?”

“Oh, it got damaged during your fall in the mine, I think,” replied Shart.  “At least, that’s when I noticed it.”

“So, I’ve been wearing a broken magical ring for over a week now?”

“I guess about that long,” replied the demon, nodding.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I growled. 

“I’m not responsible for checking your logs,” replied Shart.  “Besides, you have, like, 600 Hit Points, anyway.  What difference does another 10 make?”

I took off the ring and examined it for damage.  I didn’t see any.  I tried using my Scan skill, but it just kept showing that the item was damaged.  Then, I got an idea from Gandalf.  I began working magic in my hand.  An instant later, a bright flame erupted from my palm.  Using my Flameology skill, I was able to maintain the flame long enough to place the ring inside it. 

Tolkien had been right.  As I watched the ring, several runes I didn’t recognize began to form in the middle.  It was all somehow empowered by my fire.  As I read them, I also became keenly aware that the ring was now super-hot.  It was also still sitting directly on my palm.  Swearing, I dropped it into a well-placed trough.  The ring vanished into the murky water with a puff of steam.

“Ha,” yelled Shart, as I glared down at the water.  An instant later, my hand shot into the brown liquid.  After only a couple of quick, underwater grabs, I found my prize. 

Shart looked massively annoyed as I placed the chipped ring back on my finger. 

“What, I’ve been watching things fall into water for hours,” I replied.

Chapter 26: The Ringbearer

As we had walked through town, Shart convinced me to let him see the ring.  He was examining it now with some sort of monocle he had found.  Shart liked collecting junk, I’d noticed.  His inventory was chalk full of loose odds and ends.   I had seen this particular eyeglass once before.  It appeared to be damaged, so I assumed it was probably garbage.  Shart liked rummaging through crap.

“So, are the ring’s runes damaged?” I asked.

“One is.  It looks like this one here wasn’t etched deeply enough when they first inscribed it.  You aren’t exactly gentle with your hands, and it chipped while you were wearing it,” replied the demon, showing me the rough mark on the ring, “After it got chipped, the magical dyes became smudged.”

“They use dyes?” I asked.  I knew it had been chipped when I fell in the mine, but that was the only damage I had been aware of.

“Duh,” replied Shart.  “Permanent magical runes require the use of magical dyes to keep the runes active.  You don’t really need them for temporary runes that you don’t expect to last very long.  For those, you can just polish your rocks off, and you are done.”

“You mean polish off the inscriptions?” I questioned.

“Oh, I guess you could interpret it that way,” replied Shart, grinning.  “In any case, permanent magical equipment requires their runes to have magical dyes made of magical crystals and other alchemical components.  Otherwise, they lose their enchantments, just as your ring did when it's dyes were smudged.”

“Which wouldn’t have happened if it had been etched as deeply as the rest of the inscription,” I said.  Shart nodded, and we continued walking.

“You can craft the kind of dye necessary to repair this.  You would need some magical crystals, along with a few other herbal ingredients, but it could be done,” Shart informed me. 

We hiked a bit longer in silence.  The southeastern part of Windfall was the least populated, so I wasn’t expecting to run into anyone.  With every step, I was becoming more and more isolated.  There was only one person who actually lived in this part of town, and that was Jarra the Healer.  She had chosen this section because her garden and alchemy station were here. 

The garden was working out well, with dozens of different herbs growing in a variety of greens, blues, and purples.  Even more vibrant were several reagents that were fertilized with crystals from Ironpass Mine.   The Crystals by themselves were useless for potion making, whereas reagents grown from them were useful in virtually any potion. 

Next to the field stood the little hut that served as the alchemy station.  It was smelling funky, as per usual.  There, Jarra could turn the reagents and herbs into an ever-growing variety of healing potions.  There was a fifty-fifty chance that Jarra was present.  She could very well have been at the Healer’s Hut in the western side of the city.  It was also her responsibility. 

The door was shut, so I knocked.  I heard a crash and some rather ladylike swears.  All this commotion was followed by a “drat,” thrown in for good measure.  She must have been upset.

“I’m busy!  Unless someone is hurt or sick, please come back later,” came a voice from inside.

“No worries, Jarra the Healer!  It’s just me.  I can go around back to get what I need,” I called. 

The window shot open.  Jarra’s magnificent golden mane exploded out of the second story window.  She batted the hair out of her eyes and saw me at the door below.  “Oh, that’s alright!  I was just wrapping up!  I’ll be right down to help you,” she said.

I headed around the side of the building to the back, where the crates of crystals were being stored.  I found no fewer than twenty-four crates of crystals stacked outside of a small closet that could comfortably hold two.

“I take it we designated this place as the primary crystal drop-off site?” I asked.

“We didn’t do anything.  You did, and no one cares.  She’s the only one who actually uses any of them,” replied Shart.   I decided to talk to Mar about having additional crystals stored elsewhere. 

I’d originally been thinking about taking a handful or two.  Instead, I grabbed a crate and hefted it over my shoulder.  Thanks to my Hiking skill, it was super easy, barely an inconvenience.  After the battle, I’d bumped all my stats by at least one, using the absurd number of stat bumps gifted to me by the goblins’ deaths.  I still had multiple stat bumps in reserve, too, meaning that I could further enhance my physical or mental skills whenever I wanted. 

●                    Strength:  +4 Very Good

●                    Dexterity:  +4 Very Good

●                    Endurance:  + 6 Super Outstanding

●                    Spirit:  + 4 Very Good

●                    Willpower:  +4 Very Good

●                    Charisma:  +1 Above Average

●                    You have 3 stat bumps in reserve.  Would you like to assign them now? (Yes/No)

Reserve stat bumps were a newer concept.  At levels 4 and 8, in all my classes, I’d gotten a stat bump that I had been able to apply to my various statistics.  Typically, I only had twenty-four hours to use the bump.  Once that time ran out, it would be randomly assigned.  However, at level 12 in each class, I got a reserved stat bump that didn’t expire.  I could afford to be more thoughtful regarding how each bump should be applied. 

I’d also recently discovered that the stats all had numeric values, so I’d turned them on for ease of reference.  That didn’t quite tell me what those numbers translated to on an Earth scale, but I could approximate.  I figured +5, which was outstanding, was about Earth maximum.  My Endurance of super outstanding would have literally translated to me being healthier than the healthiest person alive on Earth. 

There were still two things that I didn’t fully understand regarding the buffs.  First off, the increased stats had certainly changed my body’s shape.  I was several inches taller and much broader in the shoulders than when I had first come to Ordinal.  Hell, there had been changes to my body type since last week.  Somehow, though, my wardrobe still fit, despite not being altered.  Second, no one ever mentioned it, at all.  I had been steadily gaining on OttoSherman, now, but he acted like I had always been this tall. 

That’s got to be a cultural thing.  My thoughts were interrupted as Jarra the Healer dashed around the corner.  She was a tall, leggy, young woman, with beautiful golden hair that she took great care to maintain.  As she was the town alchemist, her efforts were better than anyone else’s. She never slouched, her proud frame always showing a bit of curve.  Even when she was wearing her rather thick, frumpy, leather apron, which was currently tied in front of her and was smoking.

She began patting the foul-smelling smoke out of the apron.  I idly wondered what she had been working on, but then she looked up.  She smiled when she saw me, and, of course, that’s when the problem began. 

Jarra looked entirely too much like my daughter.  I hadn’t seen it the first time I met her.  After all, she had been filthy, and I had been waging a battle for the fortress.  Of course, the resemblance wasn’t exact.  The healer lacked the freckles that dotted my daughter’s nose, and the birthmark that graced my child’s hairline.  The smile was the problem.  I’d seen Jarra’s smile at least a thousand times before.  It was the same smile as when my daughter had first ridden a bike, and gotten her driver’s license, and graduated high school.  I had seen Jarra’s other secret smile before, too, whenever my daughter talked about her current boyfriend. 

I decided that having superhuman Perception was more trouble than it was worth.

“Oh, Jim, there you are.  I thought you might have left already,” she said, bringing her hands down once more over the charred apron.

“Nope, just gathering up some materials,” I said, distractedly hefting two more boxes of crystals onto my shoulder.  After distributing the crates’ weight more evenly, I looked back to discover that the apron was gone.  Jarra now stood before me wearing her favorite green work dress. 

“How did she do that?” asked Shart.  He’d turned his head for only a moment and missed the de-aproning entirely.  “Was it Sorcery?”

“I didn’t thank you for the reagents you gave us.  I was able to make a significant number of healing potions with them.” Jarra the Healer started lamely, but she soldiered on.  “I’d like to thank you properly.  Maybe over dinner?”

“Well, I’ve got this project I’m starting,” I said, gesturing toward the crystals.

“Not tonight, of course,” she said, recovering.  “I was thinking later, maybe?”

“Maybe later,” I replied uncomfortably.  I really needed to figure this out.  I needed to do something about this.  Instead, I continued, “I really need to get started on this project pretty soon.”

“Maybe later?”

“Maybe,” I replied again.  I began heading toward the road.  “I just have to work through some stuff, first.”

Jarra also had the same sad smile as my daughter. 

Chapter 27: Trust Issues

“Smooth, you blighter,” growled Badgelor.  We were in a small, abandoned workshop in the south eastern part of town.  I’d picked somewhere off the main road that looked sturdy but not too sturdy.  I had essentially chosen the spot based on how easily I could escape if something blew up. 

“I didn’t think you liked anyone,” I told the badger.

“I don’t,” he replied, “But I need you healthy.  One should never piss off the town healer.”

“What about Bashara?” I needled.

“Her and I have an arrangement,” said Badgelor in a huff. 

Rolling my eyes, I looked over to Shart.  “I don’t suppose you have any thoughts on the matter.”

“I didn’t think anyone liked Badgelor either,” added the demon, shrugging.

With that, the two of them were off, again.  I discovered you could tune out anything if you tried hard enough, including a demon and a badger having a fist fight on your back. 

It wasn’t fair.  I was dead.  I had made peace with that, but I was also married.  Wasn’t I? 

I glared at the broken Ring of Vitality, the permanent inscription eroded.  What did I owe my wife?  What did I owe my children?  Had they grieved and moved on?  Were they still mourning me?  What was important here?

In my hands was the broken ring.  I clutched it tightly. I loved my wife, but I was never getting home.  What was I supposed to do?  My current plan of not thinking about it was falling apart around me.  I needed to tell people what my intentions were.  Otherwise, this situation was going to get worse every day.

What were my intentions?  I wasn’t close to retirement on Earth, but my wife and I were looking at a future of an empty nest, grandkids, and every vacation we’d ever dreamed of.  It annoyed me that I’d put in all that work, for all those years, and I wasn’t going to get to enjoy time with my wife.  I’d finally talked her into a cruise with unlimited booze! 

The flip side was the fact that I was twenty-five again.  That had its own suite of problems, though.  Old me could have waited patiently forever.  Young me was often in active negotiation with various parts of my anatomy for time utilization.  Drunk and available, SueLeeta had been a massive temptation, especially because her plan had been to get me inebriated and have her way with me.  That was one of the advantages of being old; I’d seen that particular move before.  I was pretty sure her entire discussion on armor had just been an excuse to take hers off and, hopefully, mine, as well. 

I had been partially successful in resisting that temptation.  I hadn’t given in, and my pants’ concealing effect had hidden my less successfully subdued anatomy.

“Ashes and Fire, are you still blathering on about this?” exclaimed Shart.

“I’m thinking about some pretty important stuff,” I growled.

“No, you are thinking about your wife again!  You died!  It was till death do you part.  This isn’t complicated,” said Shart, as he plucked the ring from my hand and examined it again. 

“I don’t feel like I died,” I said.

“Trust me, you were roadkill.  You had multiple organ lacerations and third degree burns everywhere,” replied the demon nonchalantly.  He hopped off my chest and went to the vise I had assembled before placing the ring in and tightening it down.  With my Improvised Tool skill, I had used three rocks, a piece of a bed frame, and a watermelon to repair the vice. 

I picked up a sharpened metal rod that I was going to use to inscribe the rune and twirled it in my fingers.  “Well, character is doing what’s right when no one is watching.”

“And stupid is doing what you think is right when no one cares what you do,” countered the demon.  He plopped onto the counter in front of me.  “Let me ask you something.  Would she want you to be happy?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“See, that’s all there is to it,” said Shart with a grin.

“And celibate,” I continued dryly. 

“Wow, that is a bitch pudding response.  You can never get with her again, in any capacity, and she thinks you’re dead.  Yet, you are still going to wait for her,” said the demon.  “You are going to be lonely forever.”

“I have you,” I replied.

“At least until we get to the Demon Door, and I wipe your brain,” said Shart.  “That’s one way for you to get out of this misery, a big ole brain wipe!”

“Well, technically, she said I couldn’t get with another woman.  She was totally fine with me getting together with a guy,” I joked.

“Why didn’t you just say so?” asked Shart.  “OttoSherman is a stone-cold freak.”

Sigh

“Let's work on the ring, you little shit,” I grumbled.

“Okay,” replied the demon, “But I’ve been looking at this ring.  I don’t think it's going to be repairable.”  He gestured toward the script etched into the ring.  I saw the problem instantly.  Now that it had been cleaned and polished with crystal dust, you could see the faint outlines of the runes.  The part with the damaged rune was going to be tricky, if not impossible, to get to.  A bit of the metal had chipped away, taking most of the surface of the rune with it.  I was left with insufficient space to do very much.

The weight of my situation pressed down on me.  Maybe the ring was my wife, reaching across worlds to tell me that our vow had been broken.  With time, maybe I could heal.  Maybe I could be happy again.  I loved her, she loved me.  I clutched the tool in my hard and felt the metal cutting into my palm.

“Yeah, or maybe this is just a broken ring, dipshit,” Shart thought at me. 

Having already decided that inscription seemed useful and having the materials on hand to use the skill effectively, I selected Rune Smith from my Mage Knight Class. 

●                    Inscribe Rune *Rank Up*.  You are now Novice.  Your Rune Smith treats this skill as one rank higher for skill checks.  You treat checks on your Attuned Weapon as two ranks higher.  Runes applied to Attuned Weapons are erased, if the weapon is no longer attuned.

Attuned Blade was a new talent that I’d picked up when I’d selected the Mage Knight subclass.  It allowed me to bond with my blade through arcane energy.  It also gave me a feel for its location, though I still hadn’t quite adjusted to that.  Quite a few of my class abilities used that bond to function.  I had attuned to my Soldier’s Longsword, which was currently being repaired in the smithy.  That made it too far away to actually sense with any detail. 

Which reminds me.  I dug into my pouch and pulled out my other magical ring.  I’d gotten this one off the corpse of Grou’tuk, the Warg Master.  I remembered taking it, but then I’d pocketed the ring and more or less forgotten about it.  Now, I was curious.  I slipped it back on my finger.

●                    Ring of Mental Bonds.  Increases the range of mental bonds by 100%.  Increases the potency of Mental Bonds by 50%.

I instantly heard the scratching of Shart’s mind on the edges of my own.  My companion’s red, hell-fire eyes were boring holes directly into mine.  Every bit of stupid, fat cherub was gone from him, as our battle of wills began.  The increased mental bond allowed him much more access to my mind than our regular demonic bond allowed for.  Consciously, he pressed into my psyche and tried to dominate me. 

Fortunately, I’d gotten stronger since I’d been or Ordinal.  My Willpower was much higher and allowed me to directly resist.  I pressed back against the demon much harder than he expected. 

In the first moment, his eyes started to flicker.  Then, they crossed.  Finally, he flopped back onto his bulbous ass. 

“The fuck, man?” he called out.  “Why did you put that thing on?  I’d been mentally commanding you to ignore it since you found it.”

“You’ve been mentally commanding me?” I asked.

“To keep you away from rings that will warp your mind,” stated Shart, “And it's a good thing, too.  You tend to learn from failure, just like how you learned the Ironing skill.”

“I didn’t know that the stove was hot,” I growled, touching a spot on my chest.  “I don’t see how you keeping this from me was to my benefit.”

“Look, Dum Dum,” Shart said heartfully, “I want you to know this one thing.  You are an idiot.  If you have a tighter mental connection with me, my Demonic Will is going to be scratching at the back of your meat brain until it collapses.  Then, when your personality decides it has had enough, you will go catatonic.  Suddenly, I have a meat puppet wandering around instead of someone useful.”

“You’d think that having me follow orders would be to your benefit,” I said, eyeing him coldly.

“Really, you think having to mentally control every action your body takes would be more fun for me?” asked Shart.  “You would stand there and drool unless I told you not to.  It would take me so much longer to do anything!  It's not worth it.” 

I returned to fingering the ring.  The chorus of Shart’s thoughts were in the back of my mind.  They were corrupt, to say the least.  I was able to push them away, for now.  I saw a skill prompt, so I checked it. 

●                    You have learned about Mental Resistance.  You are unskilled.  Would you mind staying out of my mind?

As I watched the Skill Point bar slowly fill, I realized that I had just committed myself to wearing this ring for the next few hours.  This is what the former Warg Master had used to control all the Wargs.  He had amplified a so-so trait for Animal Control and applied it to a valley’s worth of Wargs. 

“I’m going to try to find my sword,” I said, sensing for the bond with my Soldier’s Longsword.  Now, I could sense its general position where before I could sense its general direction.  It was sitting next to an anvil and the repairs had been completed. I could sense Badgelor better getting a general sense of his mood that I’d lacked before, but the bond we shared wasn’t nearly as intimate as the bond I had with Shart.  I couldn’t communicate with him remotely like I could with Shart. 

Kill Badgelor.

My concentration flickered for an instant, as thoughts of disruption and chaos entered my mind.  Badgelor’s ears suddenly shifted toward me, and I saw the creature tense.  When I didn’t move, he grew still.  I forced the bad thoughts away, trying to remember who I was.  I focused on my wife and kids.  For an instant, my daughter was replaced with an image of Jarra.  I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and shook my head, willing myself back under control. After a long moment, I was myself again. I got back to work. 

I grabbed the Ring of Vitality and held it up.  My Rune Smith perk triggered. I recognized the problem with the ring and the solution.  The chip prevented the rune from being properly drawn on the already crowded inside, but I could still draw it on the outside.  I took my pointed rod and began scratching into the metal.  The vision around my tool became full of blood, death, and chaos.

Chapter 28: Sparking Jarra

“Done,” I stated, holding up the repaired ring.  I’d expanded the rune on the outside of the metal.  It was now much larger and more clearly outlined.  I’d also used more crystal fragments in the process, fully redoing all the inscriptions on the inside of the ring. 

●                    You have upgraded a Ring of Vitality, lesser to Ring of Vitality, +20 Stamina, +20 Health.

●                    You have learned the Schema for Runes of Vitality.

A Schema was a pattern of runes that achieved a specific effect.  I could literally see the three on the ring that granted the vitality buff, though I couldn’t have told you what each of the individual runes actually meant.  The ability to adjust them slightly was more akin to an artist’s brush strokes for Kanji than anything else. 

There was no Mana cost to me, as I was using magical crystals on the inscription.  Magical crystals were refined Mana, after all.  What I ended up with was a larger rune covering more of the ring.  That rune ultimately granted more Health and Stamina to the wearer.  Using my Rune Smith perk, I had managed to expand the runes, draw them better, and use a higher quality crystal dye.

The voices were quieter now, but I could still hear all the background chatter from Shart’s mind.  I wouldn’t have been able to sleep like this.  I adjusted the ring on my finger but left it on.  Just a bit longer.  Until then, I would focus on the good that I could remember.   

Checking my log, I was disheartened to see that it was actually going to be a while longer.  I went through my inventory and selected a dagger.

“So, how do I inscribe weapons?” I asked Shart.

“Pick a rune that’s good for weapons and inscribe it,” stated the demon.  “I know several, but now is not the time to show you.  Not when you are trying to train up your Mental Resistance.  I’d suggest using your normal fire rune.  It's not optimal, but it's doubtful your first try will be successful.  Use that dagger to test with.”

That sounded reasonable, or at least as reasonable as one could expect from the scheming piece of offal that was the demon.  Damn him to the burning realms.  He is wasting more time.  When I get back to the Citadel, I will… I shook my head and banished those thoughts.  I thought again of my wife, centering my thoughts on her. 

I need my Mental Resistance skill to level up.

The next rune took less time, because I had an idea of what I was doing.  This rune was also less complex than the rune I’d redrawn on the ring.  The rune used for flame bolt was just a basic fire rune.  It took me about an hour to finish up.

●                    You have crafted Dagger of Sparking.  +1 Fire Damage.

“Well, my first magical weapon is a bit of a dud,” I thought.

“That always happens when you try a rune for the first time,” replied the demon with a strained grin.  He was being nice to me and I never liked that.  Take off the ring.  I focused on just an image of my wife’s face as I struggled with the constant mental bombardment.  After another hour my skill was finally getting close to leveling.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” asked Shart, as I grabbed another dagger and began inscribing it.  For an instant, my wife’s image shifted to my daughter’s.  For an instant, my daughter’s face looked too much like Jarra’s.  Then, her face melted away to be replaced by Shart’s from the Citadel, causing me to involuntarily shrink back. 

I forced it all down.  “I’m not doing this because it's easy.  I’m doing this because,” and then I stopped.  I was just punishing myself at this point.  The corruption of the demon was brushing against me, despite my efforts to push it back.  I reached slowly for the ring.  I didn’t remove it, but I was tired of running.  I’d done entirely too much of that since I’d gotten to Ordinal. 

Instead, I visualized my wife standing under a rain shelter, smiling at me.  I could not banish the field of black tentacles lashing everything in my vision, but I could focus on her smile.  I continued the inscription for another hour while a chorus of demonic whispers filled my mind.

●                    You have increased your rank in Mental Resistance.  You are now Amateur.  Costs for any to affect your mental state have increased.  You can commit Mana to resist ongoing mental affects you are aware of. Unknown mental effects will remain unlisted.

●                    You are under a demon’s Influence, augmented.  This will require 42 Mana to resist at your current level of Mental Resistance.  Would you like to commit 42 Mana? (Yes/No)

I did so.  Thankfully, the effect regressed.  I could still feel it at the edge of my awareness, but now it was outside whatever part of my mind was capable of being corrupted by the demon.  I exhaled, holding out my second dagger.

●                    You have crafted Dagger of Flames, least.  1-4 Fire Damage.

“For the love of all that is holy, Jim, when are we going to eat?” grumbled Badgelor.  He sat next to the door, downwind of the dyes I had been crafting.  He had remained reasonably quiet until the sun began to set.  Now, he was rapidly shifting to intolerable.  I was about to fire back at him when I heard a knock on the door frame. 

“Hello,” came Jarra’s voice from outside the small building I’d occupied.  I stood, stretched, and opened the door.  She was standing there with her hair tied up in a bow and her dress straightened out.  She smiled broadly when she saw me.

“Hello, Jarra the Healer,” I replied.  I could tell by the position of the sun’s last rays that a lot of time had passed.  I suddenly realized that I had been inscribing for most of the day.  “How can I help you?”

“Um, SueLeeta said she wanted to talk to you.  I said I knew where you had run off to,” she replied, looking hesitant.  “I also wanted to apologize for earlier.”

“Whatever for?” I asked, stepping out of the building and letting the cool breeze blow through my hair.  I had been sweating profusely, and I doubted I smelled very good.  Jarra was far too polite to mention it, though.

“I shouldn’t have presumed to ask you to dinner,” she answered.  “You just do so much for the town, and I’ve never been able to properly thank you.”

“You don’t need to worry about it,” I smiled.  “I’m the mayor.  This is what I do.”

“Right,” she said after a moment looking slightly crestfallen. 

“Oh, check this out!” I exclaimed, pulling out my Dagger of Sparking.  I casually flipped it in my hand and caught it by the blade.  I passed it over to her, hilt first.  She looked down at it for a moment.

“Well, thank you,” she stated, before noticing the inscription on the side.  “Wait, is this a magical dagger?”

“Yes.  Just say the command word, ‘Spark’,” I replied, causing the corner of her mouth to curl up in a slight grin.   

“Spark,” she announced.  A single dot of flame flashed into existence at the tip.  It was very brief, disappearing into a puff just as quickly as it had appeared.  The dagger was good for lighting candles or maybe starting a well-stocked fire.  Jarra’s eyes went wide. “This is the most useful thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Yes!  I’ve always had an issue with the Fire Starting skill.  Now, I won’t have to use flint and tinder to light anything.  This will be enormously helpful to me,” she said, looking at the dagger in wonder.  I’d considered it somewhat of a failure for combat, but she clearly had a different perspective. 

I lowered my hand as she slipped the blade into her belt.  She beamed broadly at me.  I hadn’t thought of it as a gift, but it wasn’t really much use to me.  Maybe giving women bladed weapons as gifts wasn’t something that was considered out of form here.  I hope.

“Well, I guess I should find SueLeeta,” I said, bringing up the town map.  I quickly spotted her in the inn.  That had been my first guess. 

As I began gathering up my things, I noticed Jarra watching me.  I thought about it and mentally shrugged. I sometimes forgot that others didn’t have access to the town map.  “Where is she?”

“At the inn.  Would you mind if I walked with you?  I’m actually quite hungry,” she smiled at me. 

“As you wish,” I replied, and we headed off.

Chapter 29: Because I’m the Mayor

The inn was at the dead center of town, in the town square.  The town square was actually a large rectangle, and I had no desire to debate the fact that squares are technically rectangles with four equal sides. The massive, mostly destroyed cathedral stood on the west side of the rectangular square, and our repaired and functional Town Hall stood on the east side.  The north and south were lined with all kinds of shops.  Windfall was specializing in metalworking, so there were more shops dealing with metal than any other product.  We also had a tailor, a baker, and, most importantly, an inn.

The inn was under new management for the second time in a week.  RueVivian, along with a couple other friends, had persevered with running it in the face of DorMaude’s death.  Prior to that, the inn had been Mar’s passion project.  He’d gotten the facility up and running just before Windfall’s last bout of trouble.  Mar had managed to shanghai several townsfolk into managing it, but it turned out that running an inn required a particular set of skills.  All things required specific skills on Ordinal.  Windfall had not had anyone with the skills to run an inn, unfortunately.  Consequently, the inn’s food was only slightly better than the alternative of eating EstherSasha’s cooking. 

The friends of dearly departed DorMaude had made some pretty substantial improvements.  The food was better, the rooms were cleaner, and the dishes and silverware sparkled.  Every bit of it was carefully managed by the three grey-haired women.  They’d even renamed the place, choosing something far more distinguished than simply calling it the inn.

I looked at the large sign of a shimmering portrait of Badgelor, giving a hearty thumbs up.  I opened the door, allowing Jarra the Healer to enter the Golden Badger. 

“I don’t get how Badgelor has partial ownership of this establishment,” I complained to Shart, as we walked into the inn. 

“I’d like to say he just threatened them, but it was probably that and something else,” replied the demon. 

“Screw you both,” growled the badger, as he rose up onto his hind legs.  He waved at everyone before heading off to his table.  Technically, it was the mayor’s table, but no one called it that. 

The trio of women had brought sixteen refugee children with them, seventeen if one included Voan who also now lived here.  If any of them were blood kin to the ladies, I’d have been amazed.  Thankfully, there was little traffic through town that required rented rooms at the moment.  The children were able to occupy the inn.  MaGetty, despite her more advanced age, was attempting to give them all daily lessons.  The older kids also helped out around the inn.

“Mr Mayor,” greeted RueVivian, as Jarra and I surveyed the room.  She was a short woman doing her best to put on some weight after losing entirely too much of it.  She offered me a close-lipped smile and checked her thin grey-blond hair.  I smiled back at her and quickly looked away.  She did not like to be scrutinized, and my intent looks tended to disquiet her.

RueVivian quickly glanced into the mirror behind the bar.  She again rearranged her hair, ensuring that no one could see that she was missing her entire right ear.  Her smile was also missing many teeth.  It was my understanding that she had been struck in the face by a club while protecting one of the children.  She was highly self-conscious about her appearance, but she was also very outgoing and talkative.  

The Golden Badger’s common room had space for about fifty patrons, and it was nearing capacity.  They had tables outside, too, if one wanted to use them.  However, I tried to avoid that area.  Pipe smoking was a thing on Ordinal, and the local tobacco wasn’t up to snuff yet.  I recalled the pleasant aroma of a well-smoked pipe from my youth.  That was not how this stuff smelled.  This smell reminded me of burning tires.

“Reminds me of home,” stated Shart wistfully. 

I spotted OttoSherman at a table across the room.  He was surrounded by several women, and all were boisterously drinking.  OttoSherman was a burly, well-bearded man, with shoulders bigger than my head.  As the town’s best Lumberjack, he spent most of his time out in the forest, chopping down various types of trees as the town needed them. When the town didn’t require lumber, that didn’t stop him from getting wood.  I was slightly horrified to know how OttoSherman spent his off hours in the Forestry Hut. 

Next, I spotted Fenris and his family sitting quietly at one of the other tables.  AvaSophia was smiling and talking to several of the nearby residents.  Occasionally, she would recall Fenris’ presence and gesture back to her husband.  Fenris didn’t respond to her comments, one way or the other.  It was pretty obvious he was just there for window dressing. 

JoeClarence was looking at the small throne, which I thought resembled a highchair, standing at the mayor’s table.  Badgelor quickly climbed up and plopped into it.  JoeClarence stared at the badger, and Badgelor nodded to him.   I waved at the boy, and he smiled back at me.  JoeClarence nudged EveSophia on the shoulder.  His sister looked over and smiled.  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed JoeClarence smile turn to a frown as he again looked at my badger.

“He’s just upset that Kappa isn’t allowed in here,” I thought to Shart. 

“Between Kappa and Badgelor, I would have preferred Kappa,” grumbled Shart.

I chuckled and scanned the room, finding my quarry.

SueLeeta was sitting nearby, a large tankard of ale in front of her.  The ale was new.  Fenris had brought some back from Narwal, making him a hero to many in the town.  She was wearing her traveling armor, the thick leather coat unbuttoned to reveal entirely more collarbone than she normally exposed.  Several men at the bar were checking out the exposed flesh, proving that men could find anything attractive if it was normally kept covered. 

As there were seats at SueLeeta’s table, I walked over and sat next to her.  She raised an eyebrow as Jarra followed and chose the seat closest to me.  Tilting back the tankard, SueLeeta drank deeply for several gulps before slamming the mostly empty mug back down.

“Mr Mayor,” she greeted, “Good to see you.”

“Jarra the Healer said you wanted to talk to me,” I replied.  The oldest tavern sister, MaGetty, appeared and placed a basket containing a hunk of bread and some cheese in front of me. 

“Thank you,” I said.

“Why, think nothing of it.  I’m always glad to feed people who leave big tips,” MaGetty replied, before rushing back to the kitchen.  The owners always made it a point to serve me just after Badgelor.  He was already busy chowing down on something.  Even from across the room, I could tell he was quite animated about whatever it was. 

“I finally found it,” said SueLeeta.  “After searching for the past week with nothing, I finally found the castle you have been asking about.”

“The castle east of the mine?” I asked.  SueLeeta nodded.  We had a good idea of its location, of course.  It had been mentioned repeatedly in old documents regarding Windfall, but the trail for it ran straight into goblin territory.  Despite that, SueLeeta had been looking for it ever since I’d inquired about it. 

She began sketching a map on the table.  I very quickly saw what the problem had been.  We didn’t actually have a map that showed the castle.  We just knew that it lay off one of the overgrown roads cut through the forest.  SueLeeta had been traveling pretty far up those roads, searching for it with no luck.  As she gestured toward her impromptu map, the reason became obvious.  It was only a few miles northeast of Ironpass Mine.  SueLeeta had been searching the wild blue yonder, when the castle stood in our own backyard.

Oops.

“I thought you said that was a ruin,” I stated, remembering her mentioning the dilapidated husk of a structure in that direction.

“I did, but when I started searching this morning, I ran into a goblin patrol.  I decided to explore the ruins while I waited for them to pass,” she said, gesturing at the castle for effect.  “When I got closer, I realized that there was some type of vine growing over all the trees.  It was only when I got right on top of them that I discovered some of those trees weren’t trees at all.  They were castle walls.  The vines were just so thick that they totally obscured the stone.”

“Did you manage to explore it any?” I asked. 

“Not much,” she replied, slopping what little ale remained around the sides of her cup.  “It was getting pretty late, and I knew from experience it would be trouble.  I could smell some rather nasty creatures out there.”

“You sent your pet on a suicide run?” I questioned.

“Yup.  Cat Twelve got super killed,” she replied.  “They had traps and someone who could cast spells.  I did get past the outer wall, eventually.  That’s where I found the next problem.”

“Monsters guarding it?” I asked. 

“Well, yes, there were monsters.  It looks like Wargs might have made a run at them, based on the bodies,” she replied.  Wargs were alchemically created monsters.  Their bodies were very unappetizing, unless you had barbeque sauce.  More specifically, there was a potion, designed to counteract the Warg effects, that just so happened to taste like barbeque sauce.  It didn’t sound like these Wargs were fresh, though.  Better not risk it.  We aren’t that desperate for food.

“But, it's a castle, right?” I asked.  I hadn’t gone out looking for it, though examining the ruins had been on my short list of things to eventually get around to.  It was about a three-hour hike to the east, and I hadn’t come up with an excuse to run over there quite yet.

“Well, I think it's a fortress castle, technically,” SueLeeta replied.

“I haven’t heard about any of those in years,” gasped Jarra the Healer.  Castles on Ordinal tended to be more administrative centers, both in appearance and utilization.  Meanwhile, fortresses resembled what Earthlings would have traditionally considered medieval castles.  Both were constructed with similar materials, but most castles here were built without one singular thought to defense.  Narwal’s castle was wide open for attackers, though the town it sat in was properly walled off. 

“War of the Champions,” replied SueLeeta, nodding.  “They were big back then, when Grebthar the Destroyer and the Dark Overlord were going at it.”

At the mention of Grebthar, everyone yelled “Huzzah” and chugged down whatever they had on hand.  I turned to Jarra the Healer, to ask her what was up, but she was busy downing a freshly poured ale.  Realizing I was out of place, I grabbed my own ale and started drinking.  After that, everyone continued talking like nothing had happened. 

SueLeeta burped and said, “Castles are expensive, and fortresses are expensive.  A castle built for defense would be incredibly expensive.”

Jarra nodded.  “That’s why castle fortresses fell out of favor.”

That seemed true.  Some Earth castles were also administrative hubs.  They were, in fact, quite expensive, both to build and to maintain.  War, like almost everything else, was strange on Ordinal.  I suspected the absolute need for such a structure was less than it would have been on Earth.

“Well, this fortress castle is in piss poor shape, I reckon,” said SueLeeta, a bit of what I thought was a southern accent on her lips.  Jarra scrunched up her nose at her, and SueLeeta grinned broadly.

“I wonder why the Wargs are so interested in it,” I said, it stood to reason if the Wargs were going there in force something had to be worthwhile for them there. I considered that while taking a bite of delicious bread.   The bread was the biggest improvement at the inn, as far as I was concerned.  The previous bread was too dry and tasted like packing material. 

SueLeeta shrugged as she snatched up a piece of bread and began to butter it.  “I have no idea, but the fact that they are sniffing around can’t be good for us.”

“Don’t worry, the mayor will handle it,” stated Jarra the Healer.  She looked at me with confident eyes, her own piece of bread already buttered.

“Well, I suppose that means SueLeeta and I will investigate the place as soon as we get a chance,” I said, considering my schedule.  The castle was something I needed to investigate right away before we had another crisis to deal with. 

Flipping through the menus, I saw the town population was only at 387 citizens.  We were under our maximum food production by quite a bit.  Fenris had brought back another fifty refugees and the livestock.  Pretty soon, our food production would further increase.  Right now, we could feed around 550 souls a day.  Depending on how successful the fishing boat and the livestock were, we might push that number up to over 750. 

So, for once, it appeared my scheduled crisis was absent.

It was then that I noticed the appearance of a flashing town icon at the bottom corner of my vision. Bad news seldom smelled better after you let it sit, but this was a news alert rather than a threat to the town so it could probably wait until after I finished a meal. 

Minutes later, when the door to the inn flew open to reveal a very flustered Mar, I realized I had erred.

“You,” he half-screamed, pointing at me, “This is all your fault.”

I flipped to menu time and quickly checked what the flashing message was.  I was shocked to discover another list of refugees wishing to enter Windfall. 

●                    There are multiple people awaiting admittance to town (228).  Would you like to grant them citizenship of Windfall?  (Yes/No)

Mar continued angrily, his hat flapping ridiculously as he bobbed his head around, “And guess what, we have to take them, because they are refugees.  You decided we have to take them all!”

“Windfall accepts all refugees,” I stated, looking at the roomful of former refugees.  “That has always been the way.”

I heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor.  AvaSophia slowly stood up, looked around the room, and looked at her children.  Fenris tried to get her to sit back down.  She did not.  Gathering herself up, she looked me dead in the eyes. 

“The town was rebuilt less than a month ago,” stated AvaSophia, looking as me with steely resolve. “What you did was great.  We all owe you a debt, but you’ve got to be reasonable.  If we keep taking on everyone, we are going to run out of food for the people who live here now.  JoeClarence and EveSophia will not have enough to eat again, just because you want to be the hero.”

I surveyed the room.  The looks I received did not fill me with confidence.  In the abstract, people want to be good.  In the real world, these people had, until recently, dealt with deprivation.  They would be desperate to avoid returning to those conditions, and I was leading them there.

“So that’s it,” I said, looking around the room.  “We’ve had quite a journey, right?  Built a town, fought goblins, saved the town, and, just like that, it's over.  We rest on our laurels and tell the world we are full.”

Standing abruptly, I held up a piece of bread, “Just last week, I recall the bread in this very inn tasting like dried twigs.  Now, it's like it was baked by an angel.  The town has a sawmill.  The town has fresh fish coming in.  The town has more defenders than it ever has before.  Do you know why? It’s because when people needed Windfall, we opened our doors.”

Turning back to AvaSophia, I looked at her unflinching face.  “Windfall takes in everyone, as long as we are able.  It’s what we do.”

“That attitude will ruin Windfall,” she replied.  The looks of agreement in the audience were more common than I would have liked.  However, there were enough people who looked unsure or ashamed to give me hope.

“Windfall will never be ruined for doing the right thing,” I replied.  “Windfall will never be ruined as long as her people stand up and do what’s right.”

EveSophia had hidden behind her father, as all eyes bounced between her mother and me.  JoeClarence was looking at AvaSophia, and I saw an edge of scorn there.  AvaSophia didn’t break though.  She watched me for a long moment.  “Words are well and good, but that doesn’t put food in our bellies.”

“No, farmer’s do,” I replied, looking around.  “If all you are concerned about is running out of food, I’ll take care of that.  I will go to the castle and take it, just like I took the city.  Then, I can start issuing licenses for extra farming plots.”

That broke the mood.  People looked around at each other at the mention of the castle. 

“We could get up to five licenses,” said Mar, as he looked through the town menu.  “Each license would be worth at least 500 food production, more if we build an agricultural building. “

I dropped into menu time and found the building.  It was blue.  We could build a low-level version of an agricultural building right now, and it was listed as upgradable.  I authorized the building and threw it over to Mar’s queue.  He could figure out where to place it.

“Anything else I should be looking at?” I asked Shart, who had appeared on the main town interface.

“Yeah, exiling that bitch.  She forgot her place pretty quickly.”

“Her place?” I questioned. 

“She’s had a home for less than a month, and she’s already forgotten how being homeless feels.  Ooh, maybe you could execute her for treason!  That would keep these dickweeds in line.  Really show them who's the boss, you know?” 

Shart was grinning at me hopefully.  At my continued silence, he frowned.  “Fine.  No, there’s nothing else at the moment.  You just keep doing your stupid town stuff, and I’ll just keep waiting for the Dark Overlord to find you and kill you.”

Cycling through the town repair orders, I found that enough housing had been repaired to get everyone under a real roof.  Most people were back in houses.  I decided that having a grainery or two would be helpful for long-term storage.  That would show people that I was serious about fixing the food issue once and for all.  Finally, I added an order to increase farm implement production.  When we got the license, we could instantly begin to increase our fields.

“Wait a second.  Shart, if we just planted those fields without a license, they wouldn’t bloom right?” I asked, expecting some strange Ordinal answer.

“Duh, they wouldn’t be authorized.  The <system> would prevent them from growing,” replied the demon. 

“But they would be ready to grow, if we ever got the license?” I asked, considering my options.

Shart nodded.  “Yes, they would basically be inactive fields until then, though.  Why do you ask?”

“Just checking on something.  If we get a license, can it ever be revoked?”

“No,” growled Shart.  He liked to be helpful on his terms, and this wasn’t it.  I reached out and flicked him with my mental finger, sending him flying across my mindscape.

“The hells,” he screamed as he flew off into the distance.  That was strange.  I didn’t recall being able to affect him that significantly in my mind before.  I wondered if it had anything to do with the Ring of Mental Bonds, but I didn’t have time to analyze it presently.

I set all the fields to “build”, spending several minutes on the task of organizing fields outside the city wall.  It was a plan that took the many roads and paths through Windfall into account.  Chuckling to myself, I remembered my wife.  She thought the thousands of hours of Cities Skylines was a waste of time.  I selected “approve” on all the fields.

Dropping out of menu time, I looked at the crowd.  Mar gasped.  I could tell he was going through the massive heap of information I’d just assigned to him.  With each moment, his eyes became wider.  I stood tall to address the people.

“We know where the castle is.  If all that is stopping Windfall from doing what is right and good is for us to take that castle, then we are going to take that castle.  We are going to take it and get as many licenses as we need.”

Chapter 30: Anything Worth Doing

It took Mar a good five minutes to review all the changes I’d made before issuing my proclamation.  He sat, staring into space, as the inn’s patrons discussed it.  Eventually, they decided that I was right.  If we could get a license, we needed to do this. 

AvaSophia didn’t quite glare at me.  EveSophia did, though, and that hurt.  AvaSophia sat quietly, stewing and eating some bread.  Fenris didn’t looked pleased with me for openly calling out his wife, but he was far too honorable to be angry at me for trying to do the right thing.

“I hope she chokes on that bread,” said Shart.

“You never liked her in the first place,” I mentally responded.   “What kept you?”

“You knocked me into your subconscious,” growled the demon.  “I landed in a strange swamp.  You were doing calisthenics with a backward talking frog, and there was a large asthmatic man in a black gimp suit with a cape in a cave.  He was throwing gang signs and carrying a pleasure wand.”

“That sounds terrible,” I responded distractedly, fully aware that AvaSophia was glaring at me from her seat. 

“She’s pissed,” I said quietly, as I plopped back down and took a large gulp of ale from my mug.

“AvaSophia is always upset about something,” stated SueLeeta.  She grabbed another piece of my bread and started chowing down on it.  I took the last piece and tore it in half, handing part to Jarra the Healer.  She took it graciously and began to nibble. 

At least AvaSophia has the good sense to look guilty.

Mar walked over and sat down next to me with a thud, a challenge for someone with his lack of mass.  He’d gotten a cup of ale and was sliding through his menus, pausing occasionally to sip it.

After a few minutes, he looked up.  “I’m sorry.”

“It's okay,” I responded, looking at his slumped posture.  “I’ll never be upset with you for acting in the town’s best interests.”

“I didn’t think you had a plan,” he said, bowing his head, “I thought you were winging it, but you had all of that planned out and ready to go.  You were just waiting for the right time to do it.”

I said nothing.  SueLeeta grinned, “Ah, yes, the Jim Effect.”

Jarra the Healer glared at her, before remembering that was my name and not just the name of a puppy.  Jarra looked awkward. SueLeeta laughed heartily, and Mar even cracked a smile.

“What?” I asked.  The <system> really ought to warn you about names before expecting you to pick one.

“When Jim the Curious Puppy finally finds his bone, it's usually through some long, thought-out plan, otherwise known as the Jim Effect.”

The worst thing was not that my name was synonymous with Spot on Ordinal.  It was that my name was actually closer to being Blue or Barney.  There were a bunch of children’s Jim the Curious Puppy books.  I’d once glanced at one of EveSophia’s books but had quickly put it down. 

“What is the effect with the Mayor?” asked Jarra the Healer, looking genuinely puzzled at this point.

“So, Mr Mayor over there has a skill that allows him to queue up his orders.  He uses it in battle.  I’m guessing he can use it in the town menu, too.  Lickity split, he can dump a huge pile of orders in a hurry,” stated SueLeeta.  “First time I saw him use it was when we defended the fortress wall.  It was a pleasant surprise, I must say.

Jarra nodded.  “I remember that.  We were all on the verge of panic and the mayor just stood there, looking the enemy camp over.”

I didn't remember it like that at all.  I was in the middle of a freak out when Shart had granted me the War Leader perk.  That, coupled with my menu time, allowed me to order everyone into position quickly.  I didn’t so much wait until the last moment; it was more like I only could do it at the last moment. 

My original intent had been to just shoot the goblin leader, but you can’t do that in mass combat. 

“Yup, and then right before the goblin leader charged, the Mayor dumped all our orders and positioning on us.  That left the goblins no time to respond to our defense. Pissed Grou’tuk off something terrible,” grinned SueLeeta. 

Mar nodded.  “So, you had all the farming planned out before you ever issued the orders?”

“I spent some time on it,” I responded carefully.  I’d spent about five seconds of real time, which translated to about a quarter of an hour.  Placing the fields had taken the longest, as doing so from the town map was cumbersome.  Everything else was fairly easy.

“He was waiting on news about the castle,” stated SueLeeta knowingly.  “That was the piece he needed to get the ball rolling.”

Mar nodded firmly.  “Well, great.  Let’s not use all the licenses on fields, though, Mr Mayor.  I have some ideas on what else we should do.”

I nodded curtly.  “We need to get some fields up first.  Then, I’m open to suggestions, but we’ll probably need to talk to more of the town than just you and me to figure out what we are going to do with them.”

“Of course,” replied Mar sheepishly, but then he was back on his game.  He had a clear path and a known objective.  Mar began sending out quests as soon as he stood up.  Ten minutes ago, people were calmly enjoying their dinners.  Now, a massive project was underway, just because I’d declared it.  The feeling was heady. 

Careful.  Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

“Sure does.  That’s what makes it fun,” thought Shart.  He began sinisterly giggling like a particularly ornery toddler.

“Har har,” I thought back. 

Jarra placed her hand on my forearm and smiled at me encouragingly.  I flashed her a grin and walked over to where OttoSherman and Mar were discussing the best way to get that much wood.  The fields each required a farmhouse, and those structures were not going to be cheap.  In total, we were looking at over 1600 lumber for such a massive project. 

People who received individual quests finished their meals and quickly departed.  I noticed that several of the town smiths had been sitting at the edge of the bar.  In unison, all finished their tankards, nodded to me, and left. 

I sat in the seat between OttoSherman and Mar.  OttoSherman’s lady friends had all vacated when talk of work began.  Somehow, I didn’t think he would have an issue finding company later in the evening. 

“We have some issues,” Mar stated. “We have most of what we need, and we can build most of what we don’t have.  However, we are going to need to reach deep to get all the necessary lumber, and the supply of axes and saws we have needs to be improved.”

“Can we buy them from Narwal?” I asked.  Mar nodded.

“We’ll have to.  It's unfortunate, but the specific pattern for the axes we need is too complicated for our smiths in their current skill sets,” said Mar.  “We are going to need to start cutting harder types of wood.  The current axes we have don’t cut hard wood well.”

“How much longer are we looking at, if they don’t have the right tools?” I asked.

“It will take them five times as long to cut down the trees and will reduce the yield by half,” replied OttoSherman glumly.  It would be his hands doing longer cutting for much less material. 

“Well, we will buy them then.  See if Blots can get a more skilled blacksmith to come for a visit,” I said. 

“That’s going to cost quite a bit of gold, when we factor in everything else we need.  We are in better financial shape than we have ever been before, but without the gold. we are going to be doing a bunch of work the hard way.  Worse, it will be so much less effective than if we had the right tools,” stated Mar.  He had the air of a man unhappy to deliver news that he knew to be correct. 

OttoSherman bent his head and stared down at the table, a hard look on his face.  Mar had a piece of canvas and a charcoal pencil that he was jotting down numbers with.  Whenever the canvas got full, he’d somehow wipe it clean and continue writing.

“I’ll get gold.  How much do we need?” I asked.

“Around five hundred,” replied Mar.  I nodded my head as Mar watched my reaction.  His eyebrows raised, as my lack of reaction became more obvious.  Windfall was profitable now, but we weren’t sitting on a huge glut of gold. We were bringing in over eighty gold a week in profits from the caravan, but that still meant we’d be seven weeks out before we could get all the gold we needed.  Fortunately, I had a bit of cash buried nearby.    

“Fenris,” I called.  The Woodsman hurried over, as I risked a glance toward AvaSophia.  Surprise, surprise, she did not look pleased.  Undoubtedly, she was diagraming all the dangers of claiming a dilapidated castle.  “Did Blots mention anything else that Narwal might be in need of?” I asked.

“He said he could manage another eighty bars of iron at a lower price,” replied Fenris, “And he gave me a list.  I gave that to Mar.” 

I glanced at my clerk.  He shrugged.  “There’s six more days until the caravan leaves again, but I assigned all the quests when Fenris got back.  None have been turned in, yet, but it's a timed quest.  I wasn’t really expecting them for another few days.”

Nodding, I considered for a moment.  We had six days to figure out exactly what supplies we could provide ourselves, and what we needed to buy and transport from Narwal.  Then, we would have an additional two days before the caravan got back.  After that, we’d have to be ready to go to the castle. 

“This is going to interfere with the Holiday,” mused Mar, as he continued jotting down information on his pad. 

“Holiday?” I asked.

Mar was closest to me.  It was his judgmental look that I saw first.  Several others looked my way for a moment, weighing their options.  They seemed to all decide that this would be entertaining, as no one resumed their discussions. 

Mar hesitated, choosing his words carefully.  “Mr. Mayor, I know you spent much of your time, um, hiding in the sticks, but certainly you know of Grebthar Day.”

“I was mainly asking about the status of the special day’s preparations,” I covered in a blatant, face-saving lie.  Mar was happy to oblige. 

“Oh, the preparations!  My apologies, Mr. Mayor,” he sighed.  “Well, we are getting ready for the stealing of gifts, of course.  Oh, and we found where the town’s old demon door was stored.  We are busily restoring it to its former glory.  It is my understanding that the parade planning is going well, too.”

“Good, good.”  I nodded, before going into menu time.

“Shart, there is a Demon Door here?” I asked, concerned.  Shart needed me to go through a Demon Door, so that he could return to his home.  Unfortunately for me, I would be destroyed in the process.  Thus, I had steadfastly been ignoring the Demon Door quest.  However, it was much easier to ignore a quest when it didn’t have a turn-in point on your front porch. 

“Relax, Dum Dum.  He means a stupid, generic, non-magical demon door, wrought by mortal hands and made of wood,” replied the demon sadly.  “Grebthar went through a Demon Door fifteen times, they say.  That’s why, each year, everyone goes through a pretend demon door to symbolize their rebirth or something.  It's a stupid people custom.”

“So, it's a pretend door?” I anxiously asked.

“Well, it's a real door.  Usually, it’s a big circle that you kind of push open and walk through.  The door spins a few times before stopping.  You try for fifteen spins, of course, but no one really cares,” replied Shart.  It sounded like a carnival game of sorts.

“But it’s not a real Demon Door?”

Shart glared at me.  “NO, you blistering king of fools!  Stop rubbing it in.” 

“Stealing gifts?” I questioned, after Shart had a moment to cooldown.

“You don’t have any holiday where people go out and take stuff from other people?” asked Shart.  He sighed as I raised my eyebrows.  “The kids dress up like goblins and run out and take candy from everyone.  EstherSasha has been cooking up sweets for days now.” I cringed slightly at that. The cook had an issue with getting recipes right, but I doubted that it mattered for this purpose.

“It so totally doesn’t matter,” Shart supplied.  “The candy isn’t meant to be eaten.  It’s just for stealing.” 

Whatever.  I dropped back out of menu time.  “Do I need to do anything?”

“Not really.  We have Badgelor for the parade, so everything should go swimmingly,” stated Mar. He actually smiled.

The thought of Badgelor leading a parade was a bit trippy.  Then again, he did like to be in the limelight.  “Well, as long as he agrees to it.”

“You think he’d refuse?  He is Badgelor, after all.” Mar looked askance.  He spotted Badgelor, who had moved from his throne to the fireplace and was currently enjoying the heat.  As I looked between the two of them, I noticed several other people growing concerned. 

“Hey Badgelor, you gonna do this parade?” I yelled out.  He raised one paw in a claws-up gesture.  Either he was agreeing, or he was flipping me off.  After a moment, he sat up, looked Mar in the face, and nodded.  Everyone sighed in relief.  

“You feckers need to let me sleep.  I just ate a big meal and am tooting like an organ,” growled the badger.

“He says he’s festive and wants an organ for the parade,” stated Fenris sagely, nodding at me.  I still didn’t have the heart to tell him that his Badger was terrible.  I thought it was mainly due to Badgelor’s accent. 

“Phew,” exhaled Mar, obviously relieved.  “It's rare that a town can have a proper badger do the Grebthar parade, let alone a War Badger.  The fact that he’s named Badgelor is just icing on the cake.  The kids will love it!  It’s absolutely perfect for Windfall’s first Grebthar Day”

Sure, I get named after Spot the Dog and Badgelor gets named after the single greatest War Badger to have ever existed on Ordinal.  I assumed that Grebthar’s badger was far more heroic and noble than mine. My Badgelor was currently spread out on a fluffy rug, warming his ass by the fire. 

“What’s up with his facial expression?” asked Jarra the Healer, watching the badger carefully.  “He looks like he’s, um, really enjoying himself.”

“Nope,” I replied, shaking my head.  “He’s just farting into the fireplace.  He’s been doing it since he got there.”

“That’s why I smell goblins,” replied Shart.

With that distraction complete, we continued discussing the castle.  Preparations lasted well into the night.

Chapter 31: Plunging into Dark Holes

The next morning, I found myself looking into a deep, dark hole that reeked of death.

“Well, the smell is better,” stated Shart, as Badgelor peered down the hole into the cellar.  My companions and I were in the deserted northeastern quarter of Windfall.  It was here that the goblins had planned on making their attack, when the barrier was damaged by the siege.  It was here that over 800 goblins, the elite of their horde, met their terrible fates. 

The first time I’d come here to check on the place, the stench was overwhelming.  I’d opened the door, laughed at all the dead goblins, spit into it, and slammed the door shut. 

“I’m not going down there,” Badgelor said, knocking free a small bit of wood.  It fell for an inordinate amount of time, before splattering into the puddle of juicy corpses below. 

“You like wallowing in corpses,” I said, looking down into the inky blackness.

“Yet, I hate stew, which is what that is,” replied the badger.

“I was hoping it would have drained some,” I replied, trying to guess how far down the chasm went.  I lit a torch and held it over the hole.  It was a redundant action, as this building lacked a roof and the sun had already created a shaft of light through the open trapdoor, but it gave me something to do.

“You going to drop another one down there,” barbed Shart, and I frowned at him.

“Not yet, I have learned the valuable lesson that a pool of blood will put out a torch,” I replied.  I had to try, of course.  It really hadn’t given me any more information than just dropping a rock.

“When the cavern was explosively expanded, it appears to have mostly seared the walls solid,” informed Shart, as he looked down.  “I don’t think the blood has anywhere to go.  The ecosystem down there was pretty moist to begin with.  It won’t drain for weeks.”

“Well, we aren’t waiting for it to drain.  We literally can’t afford to,” I reminded the demon.  He nodded. 

I weighed our options for a moment before dropping the torch, Indy style, into the cavity.  It landed with a plop and was immediately snuffed out.  “Two seconds is about sixty feet,” I stated.

“Closer to fifty, if you absolutely insist on measuring with something as asinine as feet,” replied Shart.  He shrugged and leapt down. 

“Guard the rope,” I ordered Badgelor as I undressed.  He sat down next to the large wooden banister that I’d tied a rope to and began to lick his tail.  Giving the rope one last, massive tug, I leapt down as well.  Using the rope, I was able to somewhat control my decent.  I tried to avoid placing too much friction on my crown jewels, which were flapping in the breeze. 

Any amount of friction was too much, if you were wondering.

By the time I landed, my palms were smoking from the agitation, but it didn’t bother me.  It did normal Damage, and my ability to resist that was quickly becoming extraordinary.  The waist deep pool of cold, thick gore did bother me, though.  It was like the worst kind of bath.  I had to work at not puking. 

“So, this qualifies as quality naked time,” stated Shart.

“Well, I didn’t want to get it on my armor,” I replied, considering my options.  It was deeper than I had hoped.  Bending down to pick up pouches of gold was going to be a challenge.  “I don’t suppose you could swallow all of this?”

Shart’s glowing red eyes scrunched up as he looked around.  “No, I have a limited amount of volume that can pass into my extradimensional space, as well as a hard storage limit.  It would take weeks for me to clear out this amount of material.”

“Figures.  Torch?” I asked, and Shart obediently plucked the floating torch out of the muck and lit it with a pale green fire that cast almost no light.  I frowned at him.  He grinned, before spitting out a fresh torch, lighting it, and holding it above his head.  I reached for the first pouch of goblin gold that I’d just stepped on.  I knelt, so that only my head was out of muck, and grabbed it.  Pulling it out of the mire, I tossed it to the demon.  Shart intercepted it midair, swallowing it quickly.  I had thankfully gotten mouth privileges for this task. 

I missed my wife.

“Seventy-two Silver and fifty-one copper,” Shart informed me, “And some necrotically infused healroot”

Healroot was valuable for healing, when it hadn’t been stewing in goblin juices for over a week.  I didn’t know what necrotic healroot did, but I figured it would be useful as poison or something. 

I inhaled sharply.  Last night, I had finally decided to finish leveling up properly.  With four classes, it had taken quite a bit of thought.  For Adventurer, I had decided to specialize in exploration.  It was an odd choice in an MMO, but brilliant here on Ordinal.  I had already chosen Explorer’s Nose, but with my talents and perks in the Adventurer class, I’d focused more on finding hidden rooms and treasure. 

Immediately catching the scent of hundreds of pouches of gold was exhilarating.  It was a smell that almost overwhelmed the scent of all the offal in the area.  Almost.  The strange part, in my estimation, was being able to smell it while it was submerged in all this filth.  Ordinal was weird, so it was just another thing I wasn’t going to question.

After about an hour, I heard a call from above.  “How is it going down there?”

“Fine Badgelor,” I replied, yanking a finger out of one of the pouches before tossing it to Shart.  “So far, we’ve found about 200 pouches.  I think it's only going to take another few hours, and we’ll be done.”

“What are you thinking about for dinner?” Badgelor inquired.

“Seriously?  I’m neck deep in it down here,” I called back.  I could feel my stomach twist at the mere mention of food. 

“Well, some of us get hungry,” replied Badgelor.  He sat down and began mumbling under his breath. 

Shart and I continued searching for pouches.  I was finding them at the rate of two to three per minute.  I hadn’t gotten a prompt for a new skill, meaning I’d finally found something that Ordinal didn't have a skill for.  The fact that there was actually something you could do here that wasn’t considered a skill made me surprisingly giddy. 

●                    You have learned the skill: Disease Resistance.  You are unskilled. You’re perfectly healthy, and that’s the way it's going to stay!

Well, that’ll bring you down to earth. I was going to have to visit Jarra once I was done here.  I would go as soon as I had a bath and another bath.  I idly wondered if I could use my fire magic to sear the crap off me. 

“Check this out,” yelled Shart, pulling out a goblin’s arm or leg.  It's really hard to tell with a dripping piece of rotting flesh.

My new Scan skill activated.

●                    You have found: Magical Bracers, effects unknown.

“Nice!  Any idea what they do?” I asked.

“Of course.  My abilities actually work,” replied Shart.  He started casting his own Scan spell. 

●                    Bracer of Warding, +20 Defense while blocking, Durability 26/80

“Neat, but it is too small for me,” I replied, taking the gore-drenched item. 

“Well,” started Shart, but, as he opened his mouth, I jammed the bracer into his maw.  Pulling it clear a moment later, I found it to be spotlessly clean.  Shart sputtered and frowned.  “Keep that up, and you are going to lose mouth privileges.”

I shrugged.

Shart sighed.  “You don’t need both.  You can just wear one bracer, but I think if we look hard enough, we will find the other one buried here somewhere.  Additionally, magical bracers always fit, Dum Dum.  Try it on.”

I looked dubiously at the bracer.  It was sized for a goblin, which meant that the hole for my wrist was only about as wide as three fingers.  Shart had never been wrong about this sort of thing, though, so I stuck my hand into the solid piece of metal. 

What happened next shouldn’t have surprised me, but it was solid metal.  What it did was not natural.  The bracer expanded radically, changing to fit around my much meatier wrist without issue.  Within seconds, it was perfectly fit to my arm.  I showed it to Shart who shrugged.  Ordinal was weird.

Continuing my search, I kept tossing more and more pouches into the air.  Shart continued devouring them in midair.  We had a pretty good routine going.

“Seriously, what are we going to eat?” called Badgelor.  His body interrupted the single shaft of light that managed to reach the cellar’s floor.  It had moved a good way since the start of this endeavor, and I realized this might have to be a two-day thing.  I vowed to hurry; I was going to avoid another trip down here at all costs.

“I’m covered in gore here,” I yelled back. “I dunno, something light.  Maybe a salad.”

“I’m going to have a thick, juicy slab of beef,” replied the badger.  “Rare.”

I tried not to throw up.  The search continued for another half hour until I found a human body.  Well if this doesn’t do it, I don’t know what will. 

I inhaled sharply, so that I could yell properly.  I loudly cried out, “Oh gee, I think I found a human body.  I bet it is probably that pathetic tailor.”

Badgelor looked down again, much more excited than he had been all day.  “The one that died like a fecking bitch?”

“Yes, that’s the one,” I yelled back, placing my hands on my hips.  “I’m sure he died screaming and whining, because he was a coward.”

I looked around for a long moment.  The blood lake was perfectly still, but there was a hint of an odd breeze that carried with it a horde of small stinging insects.  I steadfastly ignored them.  I kicked the body twice, shrugged, and began to loot the corpse. 

GowenDoud’s body was rare.  It was the first I’d found that hadn’t exploded.  The goblins had all blown up once they became fully saturated with life energy.  His death must have been particularly unpleasant.  With one carbonized arm raised up, it looked like he’d managed to survive long enough to drown in the cesspool. 

He had been a bitch, and I honestly hadn’t expected to find his body.  The decent part of my brain wondered if he needed to be properly cremated.  While I debated my morality, I searched his body, finding a pouch.  I pulled on it, but it was firmly secured to the body.  With a mighty tug, I yanked GowenDoud closer to the surface and rolled his hip out of the gore.  With the pouch exposed, I could reach my slimy hand into it.

I yanked my hand out a moment later, swearing. 

●                    You have suffered the effects of Thief's Mark.  You cannot expend Stamina for 24 hours.

“My hand,” I called out, glaring at it.  There was a large black circle covering the entire back of my right hand.  Shart flew next to me, his eyes glowing a deep red.  He held the torch up to see it better.

“Cursed Mark,” replied the demon.  “They last 24 hours and will cause you to be highlighted to local law enforcement.”

“Great,” I said, adjusting myself against the current.  “I have that Curse Breaker skill.  I could try to remove it.”  I began focusing on the Mark, easily finding the ell-like presence of the magical curse and grabbing it. 

●                    Thief’s Mark, minor.  Requires 50 Mana to attempt to break.  Would you like to make an attempt? (Yes/No)

“What’s this going to entail?” I thought to Shart, as I examined the prompt.

“Attempting to break a curse will bring up the curse.  You’ll just need to unravel it,” replied the demon.  “Think of it like a ball of string.”

I thought for a moment.  I had 210 Mana, so spending 50 wasn’t a huge commitment.  That said, I was standing waist deep in a puddle of sloshing bodily fluids. I was trying to find a good spot to stand for an attempt when something hit my leg. 

Looking around, I saw that the massive pool of gore looked like it was flowing toward me.  I considered, for a moment, that GowenDoud might have been plugging a hole or something.  Then, I noticed Shart’s eyes.  They were glowing an increasing shade of red.

“So, it looks like he really meant it when he vowed revenge on me,” I told Shart casually.

Shart nodded and lifted off my shoulder.  An instant later, the clawed fist of filth slammed into me. I was lifted totally out of the gore and sent flying across the cavern.

Chapter 32: A Concerned Former Resident

I skipped across the fluid several times like a flat rock.  When I finally reentered the muck, I did so in a gigantic splash some fifty feet away.  Having my Stamina blocked meant that I couldn’t use Dodge or any of my other Stamina-based skills to simply hop up, like I normally would have.  Instead, I stood from the gore and guts and held out my hand.

As a Mage Knight, I had more than Stamina-based abilities.  I’d finished selecting all my perks except for Woodsman before I’d come down here.  That had granted me Improved Elemental Access, which made any spells based on the basic Elemental schools more powerful.  My Fire Bolt spell could now be cast more easily and was more powerful.

In my race to level up Mage, I’d taken Hardened Barrier, which allowed me to use my Barrier talent to also deflect physical objects, though the Mana cost was nothing to sneeze at.  At the time, I figured it would be handy, if I ever lost my shield.  Right now, I couldn’t expend Stamina, so it was going to be my only defensive skill.  As an added benefit, the barrier also retained the properties of whatever magical core I used to power it.  In short, my fire barrier could burn things. 

When combined with my talents, such as lighting my blade aflame with a thought, or summoning it to my hand, my Mage Knight class was a melee powerhouse, even without Stamina.

Which was good, considering I was buck naked, and the undead blood monster wasn’t finished forming yet.

●                    Specter of GowenDoud, Blood Serpent (Elite)

●                    HP: 640/640

●                    Stamina: 400/400

●                    Mana: 160/160

●                    Blood Serpents are dark abominations.  They arise when someone vows death against another while being killed in a brutal manner.  Their immortal soul is corrupted and used to power this great abomination.  A Blood Serpent will exist until it is destroyed, or the target of its hatred is.

●                    No further abilities known.  Improve your Undead Lore

“Weak,” I said, “I don’t have his full stats or abilities.”

“Dum Dum, you are naked and can’t use any of your Stamina.  He’s not going anywhere.  Maybe now is a good time for a tactical retreat,” suggested Shart.

“Yes, Jim,” stated a voice I thought I would never hear again.  It was still like nails on a chalkboard.  “Why don’t you run?  It's what you are good at.”

“Come into the light, you freaky bastard,” I called back, blowing a tiny goblin toe out of my nose.

The abomination was a true work of horror.  Its body was made up of the blood and bones of the goblins, with a definite edge on the blood.  It rippled and undulated under the light.  The top of its head ended with a wicked looking maw, with each tooth made up of a hand holding a sword.  In the middle of it all was the corpse of GowenDoud.  Only his head and torso were exposed, looking like a profane tongue, lapping up red. 

“Wow, that’s disgusting,” stated Shart.

“Hey, don’t be mean.  GowenDoud was never very attractive,” I replied.

“Mock me all you want, Jim, but I will consume your soul and free the town from your influence,” mocked GowenDoud. 

“I was really hoping for more,” I stated glumly.

GowenDoud, his monstrous body pulsing like the beat of an inhuman heart, paused and looked at me.  “More what?”

“More monster,” I said finally.  “I mean I’m down here naked and unarmed.  I figured that a powerful undead spirit would be trying to destroy me right when I dropped in, but all I got was you.”  I waved my arm expansively at the creature.  The Blood Serpent recoiled as if struck. 

“You planned this,” said GowenDoud, his mind clearing in recognition.  “You let me stew down here for a week to give me time to collect myself?”

“Well, that was the shortest time it could reasonably be expected to happen,” I replied.  “I really was hoping for something more impressive.”

“You are mad,” chortled GowenDoud, as his entire body oscillated, “You think that you are going to be able to kill me in my current form?  Do you realize what I am going to do to you?”

“You and what badger?” I asked.

“Badger?” asked the abomination, right before Ultimate Badgelor landed on the back of his neck.  Both creatures slammed into the blood lake, creating a putrid geyser.  The gore wasn’t deep enough to fully cover horse sized Badgelor, but the Blood Serpent became virtually invisible when submerged.

●                    Blood Serpent takes 81 points of assorted Badger Damage. (Base 54 from all attacks + 50% from height of attack)

Unfortunately for the snake, Badgelor had a good grip and was hungry.  He was methodically trying to separate the top of the creature from the bottom with his claws and teeth.  That didn’t appear to be working, though.  The Blood Serpent was able to draw in more blood from the surrounding lake to restore its lost health.

“You got this, Badgelor!  Make its blood bleed!” cheered Shart, a low red aura surrounding him.

The two titans began an impromptu wrestling match.  The Blood Serpent wrapped around Badgelor, but in his largest size, he was able to kick all the way out of its body.  Oftentimes, this sent smaller bones flying as he did so.  The Blood Serpent was unable to constrict Badgelor, and, instead, had to try to suffocate him.  The Serpent held the badger in its body.  That process was not going well for it, either.  Chunks of Blood Serpent were going flying, as Badgelor attempted to eat his way out.

As I watched, more and more of those bits landed in the lake of blood, before pouring themselves back into the Blood Serpent.  Badgelor was hurting it, but it was recovering almost as quickly.  It would be close as to who would kill the other, and that didn’t seem fair. 

“Shart, I need this blood gone!” I called out.  Without my Stamina abilities, my Mobility in the sludge was greatly diminished.  Fortunately, I had ranged attacks. Stowing my blade in its dimensional sheath, I began summoning my Mana. I flexed my magical cores and dumped magic into my palms.  They both began to glow bright orange from the prepared spells.  The blood on my arms hardened and scabbed over instantly.  The small biting insects that I’d been ignoring burst into flames in midair.

Badgelor was thrown free, tearing apart whatever he’d been trying to break.  Apparently, the Blood Serpent didn’t consider the middle of its spine an important part of its anatomy.  The badger hit with a massive splash, throwing up another fountain of gore.  Now that Badgelor was clear, I had a good shot.  I summoned the arcane fire and let fly.

I prepared a word of power to activate my spell and called out, “P’Foof!”

A pea-sized ball of pure fire formed between my hands for an instant then launched toward the Blood Serpent’s head.  As it traveled, it expanded, first to the size of a walnut, then to the size of an orange.  By the time it finally reached the creature, the Fire Bolt was the size of a watermelon.  It exploded on contact. 

●                    Fire Bolt: Flameology spell. Empowered, Twin Cast.  Fire Damage 71.  A bolt of fire is launched from your hand and can set your target on fire.  Requires an Ignition Sign.  Range 180 feet.  Cost 32 Mana.  

For a moment, the Blood Serpents’ entire head was wreathed in fire.  It dove under the lake of blood, causing the fire to vanish.  I felt a slight shifting in the sludge again, as it slopped toward the Serpent.  The pool appeared to finally become more shallow.

“At this rate, how long until it runs out of blood?” I yelled, grabbing my sword from nothingness.

“About two days,” called Shart helpfully.  “You could still escape, you know.”

GowenDoud erupted from the blood and lunged at me with his sword mouth.  With just a thought, my blade erupted into flames.  I swung at the metal fangs making up the heinous face.  They were swords, but the actual places where they attached to the body were goblin hands.  I struck one, using my barrier to block several others.  I was already appreciating my Hardened Barrier perk.

Suddenly, it reared back.  I felt my ire rise.  If I could expend Stamina, I would have been able to Thrust into his face.  It was tied to a class that used Stamina, though, so it was disabled.  I considered engaging my Force Thrust but no dice.  It was similarly disabled.  I instead dropped my barrier and let fly with another, much weaker Fire Bolt.

It had been waiting for that.  As my barrier fell, it blasted me with five separate spears of hardened blood.  I managed to use my new bracer to block one, but the other four each struck me in the chest.  I was sent stumbling backward, before landing on my ass in another spray of muck.

●                    You have taken 64 ((20 - 4) X 4) points of Blood Damage.

As I recoiled, the creature’s tail flashed out and wrapped around my waist.  It quickly drew itself around me.  I drove my blade into it, willing more Mana into the weapon.  The blade began burning brighter, even as my barrier sprang back into existence.  I was suddenly aware that I was scalding myself with my own sword. 

As the blood attempted to crush me, I suffered a moment of darkness.  Suddenly, I was fully engulfed, being dragged across the floor of the cavern.  I had my sword in one hand, and my barrier held up with the other.  The cracks lining my personal wall were a good indication of how much longer it would last. 

“It seems our journey has come to an end,” whispered GowenDoud in my ear.  “I told you I’d have my revenge.”

I struggled against the blood pressing in on me from all sides.  The problem was that there wasn’t any point I could push against.  GowenDoud was taunting me with a coagulated mass. 

“Oh,” I realized, as I dropped everything and grabbed GowenDoud by the throat.  His joy suddenly flashed to annoyance.  His own hand began scratching against my flesh.  Annoyance turned to shock as his claw marks did virtually nothing.

I spent most of my Duelist perks to up my Defense; it was going to take more than a pair of claws to do very much to me.  I had taken Resistance very early on, but now I had two more perks from that branch of the perk tree.  My skin was nearly equal to plate armor when it came to resisting the scratches of one bloated corpse.

He certainly had powers that could hurt me, but he couldn’t use those powers.  At least not while I was suspended in a ball of blood at the center of his being.  I wasn’t sure that the undead had functional circulatory systems.

“Shart,” I thought, “If living people circulate life energy, do the undead circulate death energy?”

“Yes,” replied the demon.  “See, you are capable of learning.”

“Is that the only real difference?” I asked.

“Basically.  What are you getting at?” Shart questioned.

“Could I strangle GowenDoud?” I asked. 

After a long moment, Shart replied, “You’ll have to squeeze really hard.”

“Like I hate his guts, and my life depends on it,” I replied.

“That works.”

I started wringing the bastard’s neck as hard as my Ordinal-enhanced muscles could.  When that proved insufficient, I managed enough concentration to cast a Fire Bolt spell.  I couldn’t actually use the word of power, but I didn’t really need to.  Both my hands began to smoke as the heat built up in them.  I focused mainly on my palms, now pressed against GowenDoud’s throat.  I also started kicking him. Why the hell not.  He had been a miserable person, though an excellent tailor. 

●                    You have inflicted 18 points of Damage to the Spectre.  You have attacked the Blood Serpent’s animating Spectre directly.

The Blood Serpent reacted by rearing out of the sea of blood and slamming itself against the rock wall of the cavern.  The blood had the consistency of scrambled eggs, serving as cushioning.  The damage it caused was minor, leaving me free to assault GowenDoud unhindered. 

While that would eventually kill the corpse, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep it up.  A large part of holding your breath on Ordinal was using your Stamina to prevent respiration from happening.  I quickly discovered that, barring Stamina, suffocation quickly went through to your Health bar. 

I continued burning and crushing the undeath out of GowenDoud.  His face was a ruin, and his ineffective scrabbling with his claws had all but ceased.  At last, a clawed paw reached into the mess, grabbed the undead, and pulled him out of the Blood Serpent.

Without the Spectre inside it, the Blood Serpent lost cohesion.  It splattered back into the much more shallow lake of blood.  I extended my hand, and my sword exploded out of the mess.  It slapped back into my palm, where it instantly went aflame again.  Just like a badass.

Unfortunately, it had been stuck in a skull which promptly exploded like a melon.  The goo covered my face in a fresh layer of rotten brains.  Some of it got in my mouth.  I really don’t see what Badgelor finds so appetizing about this.

“Stay dead this time,” I stated, driving my flaming sword down GowenDoud’s throat and out his ass.  I let go of the blade, but, this time, it stayed lit.  Then, I started coughing.  “I got a piece of skull down my throat,” I gasped.

The undead beast screamed as it died, while Badgelor pounded my back.  The small piece of goblin skull popped out of my throat, still coated in smoking brains.  I grabbed the hilt of my sword to steady myself.  As I did so, the fire blazed brighter.

“Are you gonna eat that again?” asked Badgelor, staring at the piece of bone.

“Took the other flaming sword talent?” asked Shart, unconcerned with my plight.

“I’ve loved blazing swords since childhood.”  I hacked, as GowenDoud’s body twitched and burned. “This still looks cool, right?”

“Sure, Jim,” replied Badgelor.  I finally lost it and heaved into the pool of gore. 

Chapter 33: Cursebreaking

I was covered in foul, stinky filth.  It covered me from the top of my head to the bottom of my toes and permeated holes that I was wholly uncomfortable with.  Shaking my hands out left a pattern of splatters against the pool of yet more blood below me.  Wiping my eyes was a chore without anything clean to wipe them.

“You have anything for this?” I asked Shart.  I felt Badgelor shrink down and hit my shoulder.  There, he began to shake himself like a dog.  The sound of gallons of fluid falling from his back was sickening.  Now that his fur was cleaner, I did manage to use a bit of it to wipe my eyes clear.

“We found a cave underneath this one while you were stuck in the Blood Serpent,” replied the demon.

“I dug into it hoping that it would get the Blood Serpent to fall where I could get at it,” replied Badgelor sheepishly.  Aside from his awesome opening move, the nature of the Serpent was enough to prevent him from being all that useful during the battle.  If GowenDoud hadn’t been so dead set on killing me up close, I would have been in trouble.

Sighing, I thrust my sword back into its Dimensional Sheath, filling the space with both the blade and the unimaginable mass of coagulated gore.  I grinned and focused my mind on the blade, still holding the hilt.  Jets of flame shot out of the cut in the fabric of reality my Dimensional Sheath made, as I cleaned the blade and stowed it.  I looked at the back of my palm and the Curse Mark on it. 

“There is loot,” remarked Shart.  I looked to where he was gesturing.  A large pile of pouches was gathered where the monster had disintegrated.

“Wait, did all of the goblin pouches merge together when the monster formed?” I asked, looking at the massive pile.

“Looks like it,” replied Badgelor, spying a rock outcropping nearby.  It appeared to be marginally clean.  At the very least, it was cleaner than I was.  He launched himself toward it, landing with a clack as his claws sunk into the stone. 

I focused on the Curse for a moment, attempting to break it.  I’d never successfully broken a curse before, but there was a first time for everything.  I had taken Curse Breaker as a skill when I was very new to Ordinal.  So far, it had proven mostly useless.  I used my magical ‘hand’ to grab at what I’d been calling the eel-like portion of the curse.  I activated the skill, intent on finally utilizing it.

Instantly, I was pulled further into my mindscape.  I observed that the squirming portion I’d grabbed was only the tail of the curse.  It looked like some sort of angry tapeworm wrapped around my Mana network. 

The first part of curse breaking was using the skill to ‘lift’ it off my Mana pathways.  That was achieved easily enough that I wondered why I hadn’t done it before.  What followed showed me the error of my ways.  To remove the curse, you had to untangle it. 

Imagine letting your children take down your Christmas lights, and them balling all the strands together.  That would be on par with how tangled this was.  It was every set of headphones I’d ever owned, wrapped together and wriggling as you tried to untangle them. 

“Holy hell, what is this?” I asked Shart.

“It's a curse.  Because they’ve got a relatively short duration, Thieves Marks are pretty hard to get rid of,” explained Shart, peering over my mental shoulder at the mess.

I thought for a moment.  Menu time was 200 times faster than normal time, so I had time to think.  It didn’t take very long to decide.  Shart could warn me if anything came up.  With that, I began to unravel the mess. 

The Curse turned out to be three distinct parts, after I got past the initial bits.  It was like a set of wires that all came into the same splitter, but all of it was merged together.  Furthermore, there were bumps and knots in the wire.  Those tended to catch on everything.  Even so, they were still like Christmas lights.  There was only so much length to the Curse, so I began pulling the lines apart.

The process was slow and annoying.  After thirty minutes in my menus, I finally managed to pull apart the last bit and examine the Curse properly.  It looked like some horribly nasty parasite, which I suspected it was.  As I watched it, now separate from my Mana and strung out as far as I could manage, the curse slowly began to wither and die.

“Takes a second for it to fall apart,” I remarked.

“That’s all relative,” replied Shart, examining my handiwork.  “It operates on the same timescale as demons, so it seems like it takes a few moments to end.  Normally, Curse Breakers are dealing with it in slow meat puppet time.  To them, the end of the curse seems instantaneous.”

“Is it much harder in normal time?” I asked.

“Yes.  It would have taken a normal Curse Breaker a few hours to do what you did,” replied the demon.  “They would have charged a fortune, too.  Really makes a thief consider if it's worth the risk or not.  Also, the city guards can spot a person with the Mark.  Simply thievery is not what I would consider a worthwhile endeavor.”

“It’s diabolical, in a way.  Like a person’s own built in security system,” I responded, dropping out of menu time.

“Are you finished staring off into space, you daft bugger?” asked Badgelor.  Half an hour in menu time was still ten seconds in real time.   Badgelor disliked the fact that I could go into menu time, and he couldn’t.  In his mind, it wasn’t proper for the companion to have abilities that the primary lacked. 

I was Badgelor’s human companion, after all.  It was absolutely not the other way around, according to Badgelor. 

“Sorry,” I stated, walking over to the pile of pouches.  As I lifted one, the rest of the pile more or less came with it.  I found GowenDoud’s pouch quickly enough.  It was a finely constructed piece made by a human tailor, not the typical goblin junk.  I bound it shut with some twine and kept it with me. 

Turning to the remaining wad, I shook it.  That caused the individual pouches to somehow merge together.  What I ended up with was a reasonably large-sized bag full of all the treasure in the room.  Shart sighed and opened wide.  I tossed it into his mouth.

“Breaking the same curse repeatedly doesn’t earn many Skill Points,” stated Shart as I finished up. 

“I’m sure I’ll find something to do with GowenDoud’s pouch,” I replied. 

●                    Perfect Pouch of Protection, quality Masterwork.  This pouch casts a Thieves Mark on anyone who attempts to reach into it without the owner’s permission.  The pouch must be attuned to a user by the current owner.  The current owner is <dead>.

“Maybe not,” I thought.  I scanned Shart’s storage menu until I found something else of interest.

●                    Shortsword of Slicing: item class uncommon, Durability 0/35, Broken Damage 0 (1-6 base -100% broken), bonus effects

○                    Enhanced Damage: Increases base damage of Powerful Attack by 1-6.  Requires Powerful Blow

○                    Slicing: Converts attack damage from Slashing to Severing, equal to your ranks in Quick Strike.  Requires Quick Strike

●                    You have learned of Powerful Blow for Swords.  You are unskilled.  Just hit it really hard!  This is a ranked Skill.

●                    You have learned of Quick Strike for Swords.  You are unskilled.  Two for the price of one! This is a ranked Skill.

I checked the blade.  It was made of steel, not some super ridiculous metal like my dagger was.  We could make steel in the village. 

I also found and put on the other bracer to complete my set.  There were no other good bits of magical equipment, though there were a number of well-crafted, but broken, shortswords.  I’d have to hand them off to the blacksmiths. 

“Wonder why Powerful Blow hasn’t triggered for Swords before now?” I asked Shart.

“Probably because you were using Duelist talents almost all the time,” replied the demon.  “They are generally more powerful than the ranked weapon skills.  It's not surprising that you wouldn’t be using them.”

That sort of made sense based on what I knew of Ordinal.  When I used my Duelist talents, they were on a timer.  I could deliver a few powerful blows, then dance back and defend myself while more came up.  With my last batch of levels, I’d improved my old favorites, Thrust, and Hack and Slash.  I’d also taken Cleave for dealing with groups.  I still had Riposte as well, giving me a defensive option for counter attacking.

Because my Duelist Talents were my bread and butter for damage, I didn’t tend to launch any really decisive attacks while they were on cooldown.  Ordinal followed the general rule that Talents were more powerful than skills.  My Talents may have been more powerful, but my skills like Powerful Blow still added a significant amount of damage that I would be a fool to ignore. 

“Anything else valuable down here?” I asked, sniffing and regretting it once again.

“Not that I can detect,” stated Shart.  “There are some rats in the chamber below that are regretting their short, miserable lives right now.”

The lake of blood was now more of a deep puddle.  Even that was starting to shallow out at points.  That’s not to say that the room was anything other than a hellscape, but at least there was an end in sight. 

“Rope is gone,” I said, looking at the shaft of light.

“Only reason we’re still here,” replied Badgelor.  I heard a loud retching noise, as Shart emptied himself of all the unnecessary materials acquired from the cellar in one horrible go.  I glanced at them for a moment but decided to leave them.  I could theoretically use the bits of leather for salvage, but they were so caked in blood that it wasn’t worthwhile.  Windfall wasn’t currently low on leather.

I activated my Improvised Tools skill.  “Don’t worry, I see a way out of here.  I’ll use those rocks and those corpses to build a makeshift trebuchet.  We can launch ourselves through the hole in the roof.”

“Or I could fly up and get another rope,” said Shart.

“That might be easier,” I considered. 

Badgelor groaned and tried to shake even more gore from his fur. 

Shart flew up and tossed down a rope.  “The sooner we get out of here, the better.”

“Agreed!  I’m starving!  Alley oop,” yelled Badgelor, as he leapt off his pile and latched onto my naked back. 

●                    You have taken 0 points of Piercing Damage, base 3 - 3 (mitigate) X 4.  Cost: 24 Stamina.

“I thought your claws bypassed armor,” I stated realizing that my back was still mostly intact.

“You are my companion.  You have special protections against my attacks,” grinned the badger, “but if you wish…” 

Suddenly, I felt claws sinking into my back much deeper and more painfully.  I frowned at the stern looking badger.  He suddenly grinned and relaxed his claws.  “Good call,” I said to him.  “I’d hate to make you climb back up the rope.”

“Well, that would be a bit,” stated Badgelor, releasing his front paw and showing me his claws. “These are made for rocks, not ropes.”  I quickly realized what he meant.  He’d shred any rope he tried to use. 

Grabbing onto the rope with both hands, I began the climb. 

Chapter 34: There Aren’t Enough Showers

I plopped onto the wooden floor of what now resembled a murder scene.  I was covered in waste, and Badgelor was covered in slightly less waste.  The splotch where Shart had landed was obvious from the bright red splatter.

“I’m going to have to burn this place down,” I said to Badgelor, as he shuffled outside. 

“What’s the plan now?”  Badgelor called.  He was digging himself into the earth and coming back up in what he affectionately called a dirt bath.  It actually worked at getting most of the gunk out of his fur.  When he fully emerged shortly thereafter, he looked almost presentable.

I called out, “Shart?”

I got no response.  Normally, when Badgelor was around, I talked out loud to Shart, instead of mentally projecting things to the little demon.  People already knew I could talk to Badgelor, so it wasn’t unnerving to see me having a conversation when the badger was around.

Using my new Ring of Mental Bonds, I began mentally searching for Shart.  It didn’t take long to find him as he couldn’t get that far away from me or we both suffered tremendous pain.  He had gone to a nearby well that I would have thought was out of that range.  It seemed like the ring extended the distance we could be apart.  I would have been happy for that, except for the underlying thread of malevolence in the demon’s thoughts. 

Each of the four districts of the city had a well in the center, so I started walking toward it.  The Northeast part of town was all but deserted.  With Shadow Walker, I wasn’t likely to be found by anyone.  At least, I hoped I wouldn’t be.  I was still flapping in the breeze and I wasn’t putting on my armor before I got clean. 

“There you are, Dum Dum,” said Shart with a grin.

Well, except Shart.  He had certain advantages, though.

“What are you up to?” I asked cautiously.

“I’m going to clean you off.  Stand still,” replied the demon, as he floated above me.  Moments later, a stream of blessed liquid shot down from above, blasting me in the hair.  Red paste cascaded down my body.  The water was warm.  Somehow, Shart could do that.  It was a magical experience, the first shower I’d taken since arriving on Ordinal.

“Wow, that’s pretty big,” stated Badgelor.  I tried to look up, but the stream of liquid hit me directly in the face, blinding me.  I was naked, standing in the middle of the Northeast district, and getting doused by a stream of water that smelled vaguely sulfurous.

Oh my God.  “He’s peeing on me, isn’t he?” I asked Badgelor.

“Yup, and that’s one unnatural looking-” started the badger.

“Fuck it, I don’t want to hear about it,” I said, starting to scrub.  If one asked, ‘Would you prefer to be coated in days old goblin blood or urine?’ it wasn't much of a contest.  Urine was at least sterile.

Chapter 35: Golden Badger

“I didn’t really urinate on you, Dum Dum,” stated Shart, as I finished strapping on my armor. 

I gave him a flat look.

“I went into the well and, for lack of a better word, drank a large amount of water.  Then, while it was inside me, I heated it up, just for you.  From there, you see, I had a problem.  I needed to get that water to you in a controlled fashion.  I remember seeing you have a high degree of control when you urinate, and you have far more experience with bodily functions than I do,” smiled the demon.

“The sulfur smell?” I asked.

“How do you think I warmed it up?” asked Shart.

Sadly, this was probably the cleanest I’d been since arriving on Ordinal.  It was such a vast improvement over my previous condition that I couldn’t work up a head of steam to yell at the little boil. 

“How much gold did we get?” I finally asked.

“Seven hundred and sixty-three gold,” replied the demon.

“But that was mostly in silver.  How did you turn it into gold?” I asked.

“It's just money.  Alchemically, you can’t raise or lower the value of something, but, as long as you end up with the same value of metal, it's all good,” replied the demon sanctimoniously.

“That sounds like the law of equivalent exchange,” I stated.  “Just to be clear, if I just have a pouch of silver, it’s not going to magically change into gold.”

“Right,” replied the demon.

“Unless Shart eats it,” added Badgelor.

“Or you cast a spell on it,” stated Shart, as he watched me.  “Or use a potion of conversion, or take it to a bank. . .”

I dropped the subject, though Shart continued to rattle off different methods of converting money. 

We continued into the town square as the light dimmed over the mountains.  I had been in that terrible cavern all day, and I was starving.  Sadly, when the scent of the food hit me, I discovered I was even more nauseous than I was hungry.  Instead of the inn, I headed over to the Town Hall.  Badgelor promptly abandoned me and ran ahead to the inn, to his own reserved seat to dine. 

I entered through the back door, which lead directly into Mar’s office.

“Good evening, Mar,” I greeted loudly.  “Today sure was a nice day.  How have you been?”

He was busy scratching away at a pad and didn’t pay me any mind as I entered. 

“Just got several hundred gold pieces and finished defeating the spirit of the evil traitor.  He was trying to destroy the town and kill you all,” I continued, watching Mar’s unresponsive form.  Mar was diligent, I’ll give him that.

“Good talk,” I stated.

I stared at him for a moment before shrugging and continuing to my office.  I shut the door behind me, unsure if Mar even knew I was in the building.

The mayor’s office was sparsely decorated.  The only piece of ornamentation was a banner with a large velociraptor face on it.  It was a replica of the town flag. One of Sir Dalton’s friends had made it for me.  The flag was a large, purple bit of cloth, with a golden Velociraptor head in the center.  Surrounding the dinosaur’s head was a red circle.  I personally thought it looked like he just ate Arnold, but who was I to judge. 

I had a desk with a full inkwell, two chairs, and a small table where I kept a few knick knacks. I idly picked up a piece of smooth marble and ran my fingers across it.  I also had a cot tucked away in the corner, but I really needed to find a permanent place to sleep. 

“Five minutes,” I said, and Shart nodded.  Shart was looking pleased with himself, and, after his last trick, I didn’t blame him.  I was about to cut him loose on Mar which couldn't be hurting his mood any. 

While we had time, I had Shart produce the coin bags.  I was going with produce, because it sounded better than puke up.  The demon expunged five full pouches, each containing a hundred gold pieces, onto my desk.  I pulled one open and examined the gold therein.  Each had a velociraptor stamped on it.  I rolled my eyes but did not comment further. 

Shart just grinned.

After the five minutes were up, Shart vanished off my shoulder in a poof of smoke.  It looked to me like he was pulling his entire body into his own belly button, but Shart had assured me that this was normal for a demon.  I’d been keeping him supplied with Mana, and that had allowed him to start doing short-ranged teleports with some ease. 

The entire process only took about a minute, before I heard Mar yell in frustration.  Then came a plopping thud, as he fell off his chair.  I wasn’t sure if Shart was doing that as part of the trick, or if Mar just frequently fell on the floor.  He stormed into my office a few moments later, inkwell in hand, ready to swap it for mine.  I watched him as he entered the room, his eyes widening.

“Sir,” he stammered, “I didn’t see you come in.”

“I’m silent as a mouse,” I replied.  “What can I help you with?”

He glanced at the inkwell in his hand and then jammed it behind his back.  That move would have been unwise, if he had been holding normal ink.  The spell Shart used turned the liquid dry for about five minutes.  I wasn’t sure why Shart decided that screwing with Mar was all that hilarious, but I sure found it funny.  Mar would exchange his inkwell for mine, because his was dried up.  Five minutes later, my new ink would turn back into liquid.  We’d done this trick three times now, and Mar still hadn’t caught on.

“I was, um, doing the accounts,” he stammered.  “I was trying to calculate the amount of gold required to purchase the supplies for town upgrades.”

“Good work,” I stated.  “What are the damages?”

“None,” he replied.  “I just fell out of my chair.  I wasn’t injured.”

Sigh.  “How much gold will the supplies cost?” I returned.

“I have run the numbers, and they are quite expensive,” stated Mar.  “The main costs are for specialized tools we don’t have schematics for, and some skilled artisans.”

I said nothing, waiting for him to finish.

“We will need some magical equipment, as well, if we are going to build things in a timely fashion. Finally, we will require some additional supplies and equipment, if we are going to make an effort to take and hold the castle.  All of that is going to be quite expensive.”

I stared at him blankly.  I thought of all the times my wife had asked simple questions, and I’d given her extensive explanations without providing any actual answers.  Except when I did it, they added to the conversation, unlike Mar. 

“Oh, about 400 gold,” he said, finally getting to the point.  “We’ll need at least five more weeks to get the money, less if I can get some of the side missions to work.  I’m tempted to handle the one mission Blots found.  It would just be a quick run to get some of the supplies.  It's not as profitable as our main run, but we are still dealing with an excess of iron.”

I recalled that Blots had found another buyer more for iron bars.  They were offering below the premium rate Lord Dookie was paying, but it was still a worthwhile effort seeing as we had the excess production.  

“Take four bags,” I stated, gesturing to the pile on my desk.  Mar looked at them before carefully lifting one.  His eyes bulged as he grabbed for the other three I’d indicated.

“Sir, how did you get this much gold?” he gasped, spotting the unused pouch on my desk.

“I’m an adventurer, and I just fought a weak boss monster,” I stated.  Mar looked at me in a new light.  I thought for another moment.  “Tell Fenris to make another run tomorrow.  I know that the iron bars are being stored in town, so it shouldn’t be much of a chore to get the caravan restocked.   I’ll tell him myself.  You work on getting the caravan prepared.”

Mar nodded, sniffed once, and stepped out of the room.

“Special supplies for the castle?” I thought to Shart.

“Magical crystals, arcane tools, that sort of thing,” replied the demon.

“What are we actually doing to the castle?” I asked, realizing it probably involved more than just me claiming it.

“That depends on how many licenses you want to end up with,” stated Shart.  “A castle can only hand out so many, based on its conditions and supporting buildings.  If you take it, you should be able to get one license simply enough, no matter what condition it’s in.  There might be some Kingdom Buildings nearby that could be repaired easily.  If you can activate those, you’d get additional licenses.”

“So, the initial license is some sort of generic one?” I asked.  “It works for anything?”

“Yes,” Shart confirmed.  “It might get bonuses from the castle though, depending on what kind of buildings surround it.  If there are Kingdom Buildings, those will only assign specific kinds of licenses.  If you find a mining hall, you get a mining license.”

That brought me back to the Adventurer’s Guild.  It required a license.  “Some buildings in town require licenses.”

“I’m not hearing a question there, but yes.  Most Tier 5 buildings require them.  Some lower tier buildings do, as well,” said the demon. 

So, if we reclaimed the castle and found a few structures that could be quickly repaired, we could get more than one license.  Then, we could leave without bogging ourselves down with defending a castle that would be attacked by goblins at every opportunity. 

I left the Town Hall and walked over to the inn, intent on picking up dinner and my stray badger.  My hunger had finally outweighed my nausea.  Badgelor was sitting in his usual chair, being pandered to by all the ladies of the establishment.  I knew he had helped to free them, but I hadn’t gotten the entire story out of either side. 

Badgelor was presiding over the inn as I entered.  The children were dancing in front of the fire, and I noticed entirely too many plates on the small tray attached to his throne. 

“Your lordship,” I intoned as I walked in.

“I’m stuck in the chair again.  Please, get me out,” whispered Badgelor, as he once more waved to the children.  “I just wanted a snack, but they stuffed me good.”

“Why do you keep getting in the chair if you know you are going to get stuck?” I asked.

“It’s not my fault.  They fed me first, and I was fine.  They fed me again, and I could still move with ease.  I think it was the fifth plate that caused me to become stuck.  Then, the kids started dancing for me, and that idiot keeps playing that stupid ditty,” replied Badgelor.  Someone was playing a merry tune. The shuffling Badgelor was doing made it appear that he was trying to dance along, not escape. 

“You could always change to one of your bigger forms,” I suggested.

“And wreck my chair?” asked Badgelor aghast. “It would splinter under me!”

I reached to get Badgelor out, but spotted Fenris.  “One moment.”

“Traitor,” screamed the badger.  The one-man band played harder, and the children danced faster.

Walking over to the Warden, I dropped the Ring of Vitality into my pouch.  Fenris was standing at the bar, nursing an ale.  He was wearing what I thought of as his civilian outfit.  Instead of being armored, he was wearing a tight fitting greenish brown jerkin and pants.  It was still stern, but less so than his armor.  I thought I saw just the tiniest bit of give to his spine, which was usually ramrod straight.

“Mr. Mayor,” he greeted.

“Sorry to send you back out so soon,” I replied.  Fenris nodded.  I hadn’t told him yet, but he’d probably been getting quests as soon as I’d told Mar.

“Shouldn’t be much trouble.  Your man, Blots, seems to be pretty well-connected in Narwal.  I’m sure if we get there early enough, he’ll be able to get what we need quickly,” stated Fenris.

“Check with Blots to see how well Narwal is doing.  I’m getting more than a bit concerned with that place,” I stated.

Fenris nodded again.  “It's getting worse for the refugees in Narwal.”

Narwal had been trying to deal with the burden of so many refugees for a long time now.  Lord Dookie had been doing his best, but realistically there were only so many resources he could deploy.   The problems in Windfall paled in comparison to the full-blown crisis going on in Narwal.  At some point soon it was going to come to a head, and I didn’t really want Blots there when it happened.

“See if Blots wants to come back with you,” I said after a moment.

“I always check to see if he does, but he won’t,” said Fenris “He’s only going to go looking for a place to ride out the storm after it comes.”   

Someone brought out an accordion to pair with the lute.  Both were going at it with gusto, and the children were dancing up a storm.  I think I even saw Fenris tap his foot once or twice.

“Jim, for the love of all that is holy, make this terrible din stop,” cried Badgelor.

“Lord Badgelor says he doesn’t want you to stop,” yelled Fenris, nodding at me while giving Badgelor a double thumbs up.

“I see your Badger is improving,” I commended after a moment.   

“Yes, Badgelor speaks a very old dialect.  It's hard to break it down, but I’m getting the hang of it.  I think it helps that I’ve gone up a few more levels,” stated the Warden. 

“Badgelor appreciates the effort,” I stated, not quite rolling my eyes.  Shart had flown over to Badgelor and was dancing on the table next to him.  The badger was rocking in his chair and shooting death glares at the demon.

Considering for a moment, I grabbed the pouch with a hundred gold pieces in it and dropped it on the bar next to Fenris.  “This is yours.  Get yourself and SueLeeta some better gear in Narwal.”

Fenris nodded, reaching for the pouch apprehensively.  He lifted it and tested the weight before looking at me.  “There are over a hundred gold pieces in there.”

“Everything in that bag is yours,” I stated confidently, turning around to watch six children, four girls and two boys, doing some elaborate dance.  It had to be from a harvest festival or the like.  It looked a bit like square dancing, and Shart seemed to be copying the steps they did.  Badgelor was less than impressed and continued shaking his chair.  Fenris had assured everyone that was a sign that Badgelor loved it.

“I’ve never actually seen a hundred gold pieces,” stated Fenris. 

I waited for a moment to see if he mentioned anything about a bank.  I was going to get upset if there was another confusing money discussion.  Instead, he was staring at the ring contained inside the pouch.  “Jim, you dropped this.”

“I didn’t.  Magical rings don’t fall off,” I said.  “It's yours.  It doesn’t really do very much for me, and I can always make more if I need to.”

Fenris was silent, before sliding the ring onto his finger.  It occurred to me that he didn’t actually know what the ring did.  He knew it was magical, but he would have seen it listed as an unidentified item. He’d seen me wearing it, so he could assume it was probably safe.  Still, he was placing a lot of trust in me; the ring could have easily been cursed. 

His face flushed, and he sucked in a breath.  When I first put the ring on, it had only increased my Health by 10 points.  I recalled it being quite a rush.  Fenris was apparently experiencing the ring in much the same manner.  He straightened his back to his normal ramrod posture and started examining his character sheet. 

“This is too extravagant a gift,” stated Fenris, as he saw his new Health totals.  He was up to 180 Hit Points now.  “I don’t know what to say.” 

“Well, you could start with, ‘AvaSophia, Jim just gave me a magical ring to make me much harder to kill,’” I ventured. 

Fenris smiled. “She doesn’t hate you, you know.  It's just, whenever you come around, I end up going someplace dangerous.  She thinks you are going to be the death of me.”

That confirms that.

“Well, you get a boring caravan run for now,” I stated.  “I’ll be busy storming the castle.”

“You mean scouting,” stated Fenris, back to business.

“Of course,” I replied, mostly somewhat honestly. 

“SueLeeta will meet you here tomorrow morning,” stated Fenris, emptying his mug.  “She got the quest notice, so she went to bed early.”

“She needs more beauty sleep?” I asked.

Fenris actually blushed.  “I doubt she’ll be doing much sleeping.  She said something about being jilted recently and needing to clear the cobwebs.  I wonder what idiot turned her down.”

I signed and turned to leave.  Badgelor’s eyes had expanded to the size of dinner plates by the time I got back to him.

“I think someone’s going to get a harmonica,” called out Shart as I got closer. 

“I am Lord of the Badgers!  I don’t want to hear some inept farmer trying to play a harmonica,” cried out Badgelor.  “Jim, save me, please.”

It was nice to discover that Badgelor did have a threshold.  I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled.  It took a moment, but he came out with an audible pop. 

“How much did you eat?” I asked.

“So much,” replied the badger.  He scampered up my left arm to my shoulder.  From there, he stood tall, waving and blowing kisses to his adoring fans. 

“I’ve got to take him along now,” I smiled to the crowd.  “Lord Badgelor needs his rest.  Grebthar Day is coming.”

The children were suitably sad to see him go.  Their excuse for singing and dancing gone, they continued to sing and dance.  As I stepped outside, a young man brushed past me, carrying a harmonica. 

“Well, I do like me a good harmonica solo,” I said, making to reenter the inn.

“I will bite you,” replied Badgelor.

Chapter 36: Laser Vision

I left my office in the morning wearing my leather traveling armor.  It was mostly new and in far better shape than any of my previous armor sets.  This set was studded leather, with small iron studs throughout, except for some light plates over my shoulders.  It was brown with yellow highlights, made from some of the larger rats from the southern field.  I knew Kappa was one of the major factors in that fur being available locally.

My new armor was considered light armor.  It was far more comfortable for extended wear than my heavier, metal armor. 

●                    Leather Armor, Mayor’s Armor.  Defense 8, Threshold 4.

Of course, I’d debated putting on my metal armor.  Its Defensive values were 12, with a Threshold of 6.  It was, of course, better.  It was also much, much louder.  I’d figured out that Defense was a bit more complicated than I’d initially thought when I’d gotten to Ordinal.  I had a high Defense rating against Damage, which I had thought was the end of it.  Then, I’d discovered damage types thanks to the Fecking Puma Forest, and everything had gone downhill.

●                    Jim: Defense 31 (6 endurance + 13 level + 12 armor), Threshold 6.  Effectiveness of all physical status Damage is halved.

●                    Mitigate: With a defense of 31, you can Mitigate up to 10 points of Damage of each attack.

SueLeeta was waiting for me, leaning against the inn and eating a small loaf of bread.  She was wearing her traveling armor as well.  The major difference between her armor and mine was that her’s had the most breast-smooshing front I’d ever seen on armor.  It made her appear nearly flat chested.  It was smoothed to allow her to fire her bow without accidentally clipping herself.  That was still probably my biggest regret on Ordinal.  I expected female fantasy armor to look like BDSM outfits not…armor.

“You are late,” she grinned as I approached. 

“The sun’s not even up,” I chided.  “I suppose you are going to say we need to leave right now.”

“Perish the thought,” she grinned, reaching into her pouch and producing some hard tack.  “I brought you some breakfast.  I even have some cheese to go with it.  You can bring the whine if you have to.”

I grumbled but took the travel ration.  SueLeeta bent over and gave Badgelor a large head scratch while quietly slipping him some cheese.  SueLeeta had learned the trick of petting Badgelor; feed him while you are doing it.  She ignored her own pet, a summoned cat.  It was only a vague approximation of an actual feline.  The only thing it did well was ignore everyone. 

“Cat Eighteen,” I stated.  “You’ve been busy.”

She shrugged, and we headed out of town.  The caravan was assembling close to Windfall’s western gate.  There were a few people racing toward it to wave goodbye or join the caravan.  I’d said my goodbyes last night, so I didn’t feel compelled to see them off.  Fenris could handle what was rapidly becoming a routine trip between the towns. 

“Hell, if the Fecking Pumas are gone, we might not even need an escort,” I said, as we walked past stately Windfall Manor.  Several more sections of the roof had started to collapse.  I was going to have to list it as a place to repair before more serious damage occurred.  It was a higher tier structure, though.  I had been avoiding listing it because of the cost involved.

“Maybe,” stated SueLeeta.  “I’d like to go prowl those woods first, though.  Give me time to confirm one way or another.  I could swing by Narwal when I’m done, or not.”  Her nose wrinkled cutely as she said that meaning she had not yet put her game face on.

“They had decent shopping,” I replied.

“Just like a man, only interested in the shops,” she teased.  “Give me a tavern any day and a warm bed at night.”  She grinned wickedly at me.  I shook my head at her, deflecting the barb.  That just made her grin wider. 

We walked in silence for a few minutes, heading through the increasingly less populated eastern side of town.  I almost didn’t notice Shart and Badgelor on my shoulders anymore.  The gate guards waved us through without issue, and soon we were trudging into the fields outside Windfall.  A stiff breeze carried the scent of the ocean, as well as a chill from the early morning. 

SueLeeta glanced at me for a moment, then smiled.  “Race ya!” she yelled.  With that, she was off, using the Sprint skill as she headed toward the forest. 

“Hold on, I feel the need for speed,” I said to Badgelor causing him to dig in his claws and ignored Shart who was stuck to my shoulder with some sort of terrible mix of Demonic gunk.  I too had the Sprint skill.

Despite her earlier lead, my stats were higher.  My Sprint was also at least equal to her own.  I quickly began the process of catching up to her.  She barely beat me into the woods, leaping through fallen branches before vanishing behind a tree.

With my Mobility perk, I was even more agile than that.  I jumped over the entire branch, landing in the forest.  SueLeeta had vanished.  I slowed for a pace, unsure where she had run.  Then, I heard a rushing noise above.  She had gotten into the trees and was running from branch to branch in the canopy.

I continued the pursuit, but now she started gaining a lead.  I could run longer and faster, but the high branches seemed to form a road of their own.  While I was cutting through and over an untended forest, her route was nearly a straight path.  It didn’t hurt that she was running on branches far thinner than could have possibly supported her weight.

“The hell?” I thought, as her lead went from respectable to embarrassing. 

“It's a Woodsman perk,” stated Badgelor authoritatively.  “Elven Steps.  You really need to assign the rest of your Woodsman perks.”

I had assigned all the perks out of my Adventurer, Mage Knight, and Duelist classes before the fight with GowenDoud, but I still hadn’t assigned my Beast Master perks.  While my other classes had perks that mostly benefited me directly, Beast Master seemed to gain most of its power from the companion.  Its perks reflected that.  Part of my concern was that Badgelor was kind of violently insane, and I didn’t necessarily want to give him a power that might backfire on me. 

Since Badgelor assigned his own talents in a manner I still didn’t quite understand, that left me holding a bag of perks that seemed more or less risky.  Badgelor had wanted me to take a perk in the Improved Companion Bond tree that would grant him near 100% resistance to all my spells.  That meant that I could freely use spells around him, but if I had to defend myself against Badgelor, I’d be unable to use spell attacks. 

“I'm not planning on attacking you,” I stated.  Badgelor frowned at me, and I said nothing further. 

Charles really messed him up. 

Time slowed as I brought up my menus and flipped over to Beastmaster.  I had three unused perks from that class.  I found a talent called “True Bond” that let Badgelor share my perks but instantly discounted it.  That would be like handing a pyromaniac a flamethrower and a gas can.  Plus, I had perks like Sword Master which were decidedly outside the bounds of what a badger should be doing.  The thought of Badgelor, armed with a magical sword, searching for Charles was somewhat amusing, however.

I glanced at Elven Steps.  That perk would reduce my effective weight on natural terrain.  It would make me harder to track and allow me to run on branches, as SueLeeta was now.  In fact, I now realized she was hard as hell to track in the woods because she wasn’t leaving any footprints.  That sounded extremely useful, so I selected it.

Next, I eyeballed the perk Badgelor wanted me to select, Companion Spell Resistance.  It granted each of us near absolute immunity to the other’s spells.  I considered it for a second.  The benefits seemed pretty lop sided, as Badgelor didn’t even know magic.  Choosing it might buy me a modicum of trust from Badgelor, though.  If worse came to worst, I could always use my sword on him, or just outrun him.  I held my figurative nose and selected it. 

I was left with one final perk, and I decided to look through my options before Badgelor demanded I spend it on something else.  None of the perks in the Beast Master side were actually bad, it was just that most of them just augmented my Companion.  I needed to find one that Badgelor, whom I trusted completely, couldn’t use on … me. 

There were several Command perks, like Kill or Defend, which made Badgelor better at that task, but mind controlled him into following my orders.  It was even more effective if I helped him do it, which meant I’d be really close to him when the power stopped mind controlling him which I’m sure would end well. 

Some powers would be active depending on how they were used.  I needed to find one where I could order Badgelor but also that he could use without orders.  Then I saw the one that I knew must be selected, <Laser Vision>.

“Shart, do lasers exist on Ordinal?” I asked.

“What the hell is a laser?” replied the demon.

“There is a perk listed for Badgelor called <Laser Vision>,” but as I spoke, the word twisted in my mind.  I’d thought in the <system> language before, but I’d never communicated it to another soul.  Just the way my mind had to grapple with it was difficult. 

“That gibberish you just spoke was <system>,” stated the demon suspiciously.  “I didn’t realize mere mortals could even attempt to speak <system>.  Your accent was terrible, by the way,” he sighed.  “I suppose if anyone was going to be able to do it, it would be you, Dum Dum.”

I was obviously aware of the <system>.  It was an axiom on Ordinal on the same level as hard Mathematics on Earth.  If there was a rule declared by the <system>, it had to be followed.  There was no way to get around it. 

“Don’t fry a synapse,” stated Shart, “<Laser Vision> is what the <system> is translating the name of the power to your fragile little mind.  There is not a comparison you are aware of, so your dumb Earth mind is using a dumb Earth concept to explain it.”

“What does the power do?” I gestured at my character sheet. 

Shart examined it.  “It's a power that shoots mighty magical beams out of your pet’s eyes.  I’m not surprised you didn’t understand it.  There probably isn’t a comparable term you would know.  It's pretty advanced magical theory.  Technically, it would be considered light arcanification by supreme elemental reduction.”

“Arcanification?” I asked.

“What, you didn’t learn advanced Arcane Lore because I mentioned a term from higher magical theory?” Shart spat sarcastically.  “I’m truly stupefied!  It's like the whole world doesn’t always hand you something on a silver platter.”

I checked the corner of my vision, where a skill prompt was flashing.  It was times like this that I knew to keep my mouth shut.

“Laser seems like a good enough word,” I thought.

“If you say so.  You do realize that you are thinking in Common and not English, or was it Spanish you spoke?  I don’t care.  To me, it sounds like perfectly normal words followed by gibberish,” replied the demon.

“I’m not speaking English?” I asked, my eyes widening.  It felt like I was speaking English.  It had felt and sounded like English the whole time I had been on Ordinal.  I had never even considered the unlikelihood of English being spoken language on this planet.  

“You are on a different planet with magic and demons!  Of course, they don’t speak English here,” replied Shart.

“Then why...” I began before backtracking.  “When I’m saying English, you are hearing gibberish, aren't you?”

“Close, I know what English and Spanish are, along with a host of other Earth languages.  Because we share a mental bond, I can mostly interpret what you are saying.   <Laser Vision> is a name of a perk that you don’t have a reference point for, so you can’t translate it,” replied the demon.

“So, I can say laser or vision, but <Laser Vision> . . .” I started, as did the headache. 

“When you say ‘vision’, I understand you.  When you say. . .the other word, I have no idea.  It sounds like you are trying to combine letters that don’t go together to form a word that is nonsense,” replied Shart. 

“But laser sounds fine when I say it,” I state trying to hear the noises leaving my lips, “Laser, <Laser>.”  Speaking the actual <system> word out loud caused my head to hurt. 

“Wow, you are just talking nonsense at this point,” replied the demon.  “It's usually translated to ‘Destructive Gaze”

And with that the perk changed from <Laser Vision> to Destructive Gaze. I hate this place.  I still took the perk, because Badgelor could use a ranged attack.  I immediately check to see how I could set the power.  The options were either Badgelor had to follow my command to use it, or I could allow him to use it at will.  I was able to set it so Badgelor could choose to follow my orders.

Content with my choices, I dropped out of menu time.  Badgelor looked at me for a moment before glancing at his stat sheet.

“Cool, I have Laser Vision!” cried the happy badger.

“It's called Destructive Gaze.”  I groaned and glared at Shart, who sat silently on my shoulder pondering some unknowable truth or just bored of this whole conversation.  Both of them are assholes.

“Hey,” growled the badger, as he squinted at a squirrel, “I need your permission to use it?”

“Yes, you little psychopath,” I replied.  Badgelor glared at me.  “You would abuse the hell out of it.”

Badgelor considered for a moment.  “That’s fair, but I still don’t like it.”

I continued after SueLeeta with my new Elven Steps perk.  That, combined with my Mobility, allowed me to begin the arduous process of catching up to the Hunter.  She was slower than me, but not by much.  She had an overwhelming lead, though. 

My first few paces were somewhat ordinary.  The Elven Steps made my footfalls as light as a feather, while I still retained good traction.  It honestly took a few paces before I got the hang of it.  I’d describe the effort as breaking in new shoes more than anything else. 

They were great shoes, however, and my first leap with Mobility was amazing.  I leapt over a series of undergrowths, but, instead of trying to avoid them, I landed on the thin branches.  I jumped again, getting some real height.  I was able to reach the first of the lower branches in the forest. 

Within seconds, I’d reached the ‘highway’ level, long stretches of mostly empty canopy with enough branches below me to keep me upright.  It took me a few minutes to figure out how to navigate efficiently, but then SueLeeta’s lead began to shrink.  She, however, had been doing this for days, at least.  The Hunter had a pretty good idea what she was doing.  This let her pull ahead at points, making it far more challenging to keep up. 

When I was about ten paces behind her, she suddenly leapt down to a lower branch, then down to the forest floor.  I followed behind her, landing nearby.  I noted that my lighter steps didn’t translate to a lessened impact when I landed.  I actually had to use Mitigate to avoid injuring myself. 

“Edge of the barrier,” she gestured, her game face fully on.  The safety of the barrier now stretched a full four miles away from the town.  We were going into a potentially dangerous environment; the time for fun and games was over.  SueLeeta readied her bow and nodded at me.

We exited the barrier and prepared to enter the goblin-infested forest.

Chapter 37: Journey to the Castle

We moved like shadows through the forest.  SueLeeta kept low to the ground, using every available piece of coverage she could find.  I followed her as we continued through the brush.  We hadn’t encountered any living goblins yet, but that didn’t mean the forest was safe. 

Inside the barrier, we had removed every active bit of goblin presence.  That area, unfortunately, represented only a small slice of the total area in Windfall Valley Province.  What would have been classified as a geological valley ended well north of the village, breaking into a lowland area. Windfall village was located in the southwestern side of the lowland area, just over three miles inland of the coast.  From maps I’d collected in the Town Hall, plus from SueLeeta and myself, I knew most of the province was forested.  The exception was the northernmost areas, which had some unique geography, including a large, natural sulfur deposit. 

“Trap,” hissed SueLeeta, gesturing toward another leg binding trap.  It had been the fifth such trap we’d run into so far, and we were still miles from the castle.  Thankfully, the traps had been thinning out as we’d moved closer to the structure.

Suddenly, there was a loud snapping sound.  Cat Eighteen was no more.  Cat Nineteen would be making an appearance soon.  Goblins were good at laying traps, and SueLeeta’s pets were good at finding them.  Whenever Cat found them, we’d pull back for a bit.  At this point, though, I didn’t think there were any goblins around for miles.

“Shart,” I thought to my familiar, as SueLeeta began the pet summoning ritual again.

“What?” hissed my grumpy demon.

“Are you detecting any goblins?”

“I haven’t been paying attention,” replied Shart.  He sighed heavily but readied himself to cast a spell.  I could still hear the background noise from our heightened mental connection.  When he began casting, I could sometimes hear bits of his spells.  Suddenly, the mental noise flared enough to make me wince.  I turned my head to see Shart staring at me.

“Quit it,” he stated.  I stopped listening in, and he managed to cast the spell without further interruption.  “I don’t see any goblins nearby.  None at all.”

“What about wards?  You missed those last time,” I replied.

“I have Mana now.  No scrub goblin is going to hide from me,” growled the demon, casting again.  “I sense some goblin traps, but you’ve got an eye for those.  Nothing more.”

Thinking back, I did have a few more options.  I brought up my quests and found the one for the Goblin Heroes.  I had killed the captain of the Shadow Goblins under Windfall, as well as one of the Weird Sisters.  I’d let another one go, but she’d already been defeated.  I’d gotten the experience points, and her magic was nearly useless against me, unless she was sitting on a huge power supply.  She hadn’t been moving much lately, and I’d been able to see where she was hiding from multiple angles.  The quest marker wasn’t a line of any sort, more of a broad cone, but when you had several from different angles, it wasn’t hard to guess where she had been hiding. I marked the spot on my map.   

She wasn’t my only quest marker, though.  Discounting her, the remaining Goblin Heroes were either very close to me or headed my way.  Whatever the goblins were doing around here, it was critical to them.  It would be time soon, and I’d have to hurry.

A normal person could do a ten-mile walk in about three hours.  I could go faster, thanks to my immense and all-powerful Hiking skill.  That was mainly for endurance, rather than speed.  We’d run four miles in about thirty minutes, but that was using a lot of Stamina in a safe area.  I wouldn’t have tried that speed anywhere I wasn’t sure was free of traps. 

Which this part of the forest outside the barrier obviously wasn’t.

We passed a dead deer, its torso crushed, and the meat rotted.  The stench was overpowering, and not even Badgelor was interested in a jerky snack.  We continued moving through the woods.  I was far more confident that we wouldn’t run into goblins, but there could still be more traps. 

Cat Nineteen vanished into a gaping maw that suddenly revealed itself in the earth.  The poor kitty landed with a hollow wet thud. 

“What’s that?” I gestured toward a clear area that lay just beyond the next set of trees.

“I haven’t checked,” replied SueLeeta as Cat Twenty formed at her side.  Though it was a summoned creature, the feline still managed to look apprehensive.

I walked over to the clearing.  For whatever reason, trees simply hadn’t grown in this one stretch of the forest.  I suspected it was enchanted or something. 

“I smell cobblestone,” stated Badgelor as we closed.  He leapt off my back onto the cleared area and looked around for a bit.  Selecting what he deemed the perfect spot, he began to dig.  It only took a few paws full of dirt before he struck rock. 

“Moss,” I stated, reaching down and yanking back a small portion of the green surface.  It came away like carpet.  Then, I got a prompt.

●                    Herbalism Skill test: successful

I pulled back a large swatch of the greenery, large enough for me to tuck myself into, if I were so inclined.  The massive number of worms and other small bugs was enough to discourage that, but it was an option. 

“Enchanted, so trees can’t grow through it?” I ventured.

“It's a road, dumbass,” replied Shart, hopping down.  “Trees can’t grow on roads.  How would you ever maintain them?”

“I’m pretty sure there were at least a few trees growing up through the roads in town,” I replied, remembering back to when I had first seen Windfall.

“Roads in town?  There aren’t any roads in a town,” groaned Shart, as he rolled his eyes.  “Roads are a wide, magically enchanted way leading from one place to another, sometimes having a specially prepared surface, like these cobblestones.”

“And in town?” I asked.

“Those are non-magically enchanted streets,” groaned Shart.  “Streets are public paths in towns and cities.  If they get clogged up, you send someone like OttoSherman to clear it.  It boggles the mind to consider how your average Earth city must look, if you can’t tell the difference between a road and a street.”

That explained a lot.  When I first entered the Fecking Puma Forest I’d been following a path, and while the ground cover had grown up on the utterly unmaintained road there hadn’t been anything that seriously impeded me.  Heck, we were sending Wagons down that path without issue now.  Magical roads were useful. 

“Can I claim it or something?” I asked.

“A sensible question, for once, but no,” stated Shart.  “Not from here at any rate.  Try going to the castle.  If you can hold the structure, you’ll have more options.”

“I don’t think there will be any pit traps here,” I stated to SueLeeta.  She frowned and stayed hidden.  She understood what we were doing, even if I wasn’t being responsible.  As I considered the merits of the clear road over the dense forest, Badgelor started down the road.

I turned my back to him and shrugged at SueLeeta.  “I think it's safe.”

Turning around again, Badgelor was nowhere to be seen.  I thought I had heard a slight whiff of air, but that wouldn’t account for a missing badger.  Then, I heard a branch shatter and a cry. 

“Mother fecker!” screamed Badgelor, before a sudden impact quieted him.  I rushed over, finding a nub of cord still wrapped around his rear paw. He stared at me morosely as he bobbed up and down suspended by the rope, with each low point letting his little head thump into the road.

“Snare trap,” stated Shart.  “Well hidden, doubt it was goblin work.”  Badgelor began to gnaw at the rope, working himself free only to fall down into a second trap.  Shart continued, “It was obviously designed to grab humans in armor.  You can tell by-”

“Aahhhhhh,” Badgelor screamed as the second trap activated, flipping him hard enough to finish breaking the new rope on his other paw.  The badger slammed, head-first, into the ground next to my feet.

“- the enormous pull strength” Shart finished, as Badgelor teetered for a moment before slumping to his side.  Badgelor, in his War Form, or middle size, wasn’t much bigger than a large dog.  He only weighed around 150 pounds, a weight far lighter than what the trap was designed for. 

A moment later, a tree branch crashed to the ground next to the badger, sending birds flying from the nearby trees.  “The road may not be safe, pretty lady,” mumbled the injured animal.

Grabbing Badgelor by the neck, which caused him to shrink down instantly, I returned to the forest.  I could already sense my shared Overhealing pool diminishing, as Badgelor raced to recover his Hit Points.  Shart had already handed him two healroots as well.  Shart was practical at times like this, and an angry, psychopathic badger was not something worth upsetting.  I gently set Badgelor on my shoulder. 

The most damaging portion of the event was SueLeeta’s disappointed stare.  I knew better, she knew better, we all knew better.  Stepping into traps was Cat’s job. 

We continued toward the castle.  We were up to Cat Twenty-Five before we finally made it. 

Chapter 38: Windfall Castle

Castle Windfall was once a majestic structure, I guessed.  Right now, it was covered in so much moss and overgrowth that I didn’t recognize the place as a castle at all.  I scoured the area and still couldn’t see it until SueLeeta pointed it out to me.  It didn’t look as much like an abandoned castle in the woods as it did a massive overgrown shrubbery.

The basic layout seemed sound enough.  The castle was set between two larger hills that looked mostly impassable for any large number of attackers.  To further protect the castle, the builders had constructed a large detached wall going east to west on the southern side.  What stood out was the very thing that camouflaged the wall.    Some time ago, a form of green kudzu had overgrown the entire wall, to the point that not a single bit of stone was exposed.  

Inside the sprawl of vines, I thought I could see some light that might indicate a gate of some sort.  I could also imagine what might have been the outline of towers, if I was being optimistic. 

“Do you recognize those vines?” I asked, indicating the thick tangled mass of vegetation that looked too much like kudzu for my taste.  I activated my Herbalism and Lore skills, but neither found anything.

SueLeeta thought for a long moment, then shrugged.  “No, they don’t look hostile, though.  We can probably go in for a closer look.”

“What’s that smell?” asked Badgelor, looking toward where I thought the gate was.  As we got closer, I saw several lumps that were entirely covered by vines.  I had initially mistaken them for bushes.  As I looked at them more closely, I realized that’s not what they were at all. 

There were a half dozen dead Wargs by the gate, the very ones SueLeeta had mentioned earlier. 

“Wargs don’t rot right,” I stated.  Those Wargs could have been there for days or weeks before they finally started to break down.  With another glance, I decided that nothing was watching us.  “Cover me,” I said. 

We moved closer to the creatures, our bows out.  Badgelor leapt down and assumed his War Form, turning from the size of a small very squat breed of dog to the size of a broad, fat dog.  I activated the party interface and added SueLeeta to my party.  In groups that small, the absolute advantages of a party were minor at best.  However, if we got pushed out of this area, it would be much easier to meet back up.

The castle walls were probably forty feet tall.  I say probably, because, with the vines covering them, it was impossible to guess.  The tops of the towers had collapsed, if they had ever really existed in the first place, but the area within bow range surrounding the castle was noticeably free from larger vegetation.  It was an odd transition from thick forest to what on Earth would have been called a reasonably well-maintained field. 

“That has to be magic,” I muttered to Shart.

“Standard warding spell,” he confirmed.  “It keeps the plants away.  Expensive for you mortals but entirely possible.”  Shart seemed to be calculating before continuing, “Actually kind of impressive that it's still active after all this time.  The castle is probably near a magical nexus.”

“Like the glitch?” I asked, remembering that twitching magical bauble that Shart had hidden in his gut.

“Sort of the opposite, really,” replied the demon.  “It's when the ley lines of Ordinal touch each other. It causes a nexus where, with the proper tools, magical energy can be drawn from a Source.”

“That’s kind of handy.  Wonder what I could do with that.” I said.

“Probably power a barrier,” suggested Shart.  “They are exceedingly uncommon, so don’t expect to find another one in the valley.”

“There aren’t strings of magic traveling everywhere?” I asked, and Shart frowned.

“No, Dum Dum, they are excessively rare.  There probably aren’t two more connections for hundreds of miles in either direction down the lines.  It makes sense that Windfall would have one, because something has to power your barrier.  It's strange how it was implemented.  Even with the barrier, that much magic should be creating some additional effects,” stated the puzzled demon.

I let the topic drop.  It sounded interesting and all, but I was in possibly hostile territory well outside any possible rescue from Windfall.  That meant I needed to focus on what I was doing. 

As we got to the bodies, I knelt by one of the Wargs and examined it.  He had been killed by an axe to the neck, then left to rot.  The battlefield west of Windfall had been swarming with flies; here there were none.  Flies that ate of Wargs usually perished quickly. 

“Front door,” I said, gesturing toward the half open gate. 

SueLeeta hissed, “That’s about the silliest idea you’ve had today.”

She was right, of course.  I’d only been a bit serious when I pointed it out.  Looking down both sides of the wall, I wondered if we should circle it and look for a better way in.  Every moment we were exposed increased the chance we’d be spotted.  This was a recon raid, and I wanted to do what was least expected. 

“Let’s try climbing the wall,” I suggested, moving toward the mass of vines.  SueLeeta said nothing but followed.  Badgelor scratched the ground a few times and then ran over to my back as he shrank down.

I got to the vines and gently felt them.  They were soft, thin, and droopy, like a strange willow tree.  Experimentally, I leapt up a few feet and tried to use my Elven Steps to walk up the vines.  It didn’t work.  That would have been far too simple.  The vines were hanging, and the skill only seemed to affect my feet.  The rest of me behaved normally.  I ended up brushing most of the vines out of position and dropping back down to earth.  As I only fell about six feet, no harm was done.

I tried pulling out a double handful of vines to scale the wall, but they were too fragile.  They couldn’t support any weight. 

“I don’t think we can climb the vines,” I said, yanking several apart in my hands.  They broke into a wet, sticky mess.  The creeping plants seemed to be attached to the castle wall somehow.  I could just see a huge gnarled mat formed by them at the top of the barricade.

I drew my sword and thrust it all the way into the vines.  As I began to push, I briefly considered lighting up my weapon.  I rejected the idea just as quickly.  After all, we were trying to be stealthy.  My sword’s blade was just about three feet long, but, even pressed to the hilt, I still didn’t hit the actual wall.  I slashed at it once halfheartedly, and more of the pulpy, green mass shot all over my sword.  Some even got on my armor. 

Cutting through was doable, but it was going to be messy.  I shoved my sword back into its dimensional sheath.  The sticky plant gunk on the blade went with it.  I’d worry about that later.  It wouldn’t rust, and someone might find the sap useful. 

SueLeeta watched everything impassively.  When I stopped, she reached into her quiver and produced a grappling hook arrow and began attaching it to some rope.  I’d considered sending Shart up to place a rope, but that would have been a bit hard to explain. 

“You came prepared,” I stated. 

Her face was a mask of concentration when she was doing something ‘just right’, and her response was almost robotic.  “We can’t all be superhuman like you.”

She released the arrow and let it soar to the top of the castle wall.  The shot was perfect, just high enough to get over the wall but too low to be obvious to anyone lurking inside.  It landed in the mass of vines, and SueLeeta began pulling on it.  With a last hard yank, the hook fell off the side of the wall and got further tangled in the vines ten feet from the top. 

“Well, it's up there good,” she said philosophically, “And it ain’t coming down.”

“I suppose I should climb up, me being superhuman and all,” I snarked.  SueLeeta didn’t respond.  She was meaner when she was working.

I had the Climb skill, and climbing a rope wasn’t much of a challenge to begin with.  Signaling Badgelor over to me, I tugged on it twice to see if it was stuck.  I found the rope to be held firm.  With nothing else to do, I began climbing up.  The first ten feet went easily.  I just used the rope and Elven Steps to ascend the wall.  I basically looked like Adam West from the sixties, just walking up the thin green vines. 

That lasted until I got to the top of the rope.  At that point, I’d climbed up around thirty feet on the thick rug of vines.  When I neared the top, I started looking for a place to throw Badgelor.  I needed him to catch a rope or something, because the top wasn’t quite flat enough for me to simply walk on.  That’s when the physics of the hook changed.  Before, I’d been pulling mostly down, but, as I climbed, that angle became more and more flat.  I was about level with the hook, and the thin vines it was hooked into gave way all at once.

I jammed my arms forward, grabbing at the vines.  They tore apart in my hands, but I managed to get my feet into the mass deep enough that I kept myself from falling.  That’s when I heard the buzzing.  Being face first in the vines, I could now see what they were attached to.  It looked very much like Wasps’ nests.

●                    Demon Wasps, Swarm, Level 10

●                    Health: 120/120

●                    Biting Attack: Swarms will surround and bite their targets, causing extensive Piercing and Poison Damage.

●                    Resistance: Swarms are resistant against attacks targeting single targets

●                    Weakness: Swarms take additional Damage from area of effect spells.  

●                    Demon Wasps are not demonic!  That’s just what everyone calls them! They are the assholes of the wasp family.  Their stings are so painful that many people commit suicide rather than endure the debuff.  Demon Wasps implant eggs into their target’s skin.  These eggs naturally seek their host’s vital organs.  The young prefer brains above all else.

“Feck!” I yelled, as a cloud of Wasps started racing toward me.

Jamming my feet into the vertical surface, my Elven Steps activated.  I was able to push off the wall with most of my jumping power.  That sent me flying backwards, away from the swarm of insects that were rapidly chasing me.  As I watched, I realized that, while not all the vines were connected to the nest, many were.  Even worse, I realized that there were multiple nests.

I backflipped in midair and managed a superhero landing.  For some godforsaken reason, that was the best way to land from a high jump.  SueLeeta, who had only had time to question what the hell was wrong with me, saw the swarm.  The bright red wasps were highly visible against the green vines, and she immediately had an arrow out.  In an instant, the arrow was aflame.  She fired it directly into the mass of vines toward one of the nests.  Her aim was true, and the arrow struck with a thud.

Then, nothing.  I expected flames or a great, big explosion, but there was none.  I drew my blade, still sticky from the green sap, from its dimensional sheath and focused to bring it alight.  The green sap covering it smoked slightly, but the blade did not catch on fire. 

“Oh, that’s why they didn’t just burn the walls clear,” Shart marveled.  “The Demon Wasps’ nests have a form of kudzu growing out of them.  It makes the hives flame retardant.  Wasps love the stuff!”

“That would have been nice to know beforehand,” I growled at the demon.  I readied myself for a spell.

Opening my magical core and flexing my hand, my personal barrier, empowered by my Fire Core, sprang into existence.  Slight wisps of flame escaped it as the first Wasps began to close.  SueLeeta was already moving backwards at a steady rate.  If I could buy her a little time and then get away, we could figure out another way into the castle.  At that moment, the first Wasp ran headlong into my barrier and bounced off, burning as it did so.  The rest of the swarm seemed to stop and observe what was happening. 

Ever want to be truly terrified?  I’m not talking about “scary movie with a knife-wielding sicko” terrified.  I mean “wet your pants, this is the worst moment possible” terrified.  Imagine an intelligent swarm of stinging wasps.  I continued trying to light my blade, but, even as I poured Mana into the weapon, the green fluid wouldn’t let it burn.  Badgelor stayed firmly attached to my shoulder as we retreated, while the Wasps considered their options. 

“Badgelor, use Destructive Gaze,” I yelled, channeling a little red monster trainer and pointing it toward the mass of wasps.  Badgelor stood tall on my shoulder, like a turret, and sought out the target.  Two bright crimson beams of energy flashed forward, destroying another Wasp.

“Not the Wasps!” I yelled.  “The nests!  Shoot the nests.”

“You need to be more specific,” stated Badgelor, in a huff.  “I’m just a badger.  How am I supposed to interpret your insane human orders?  You are the one doing the aiming.  If I could just use the power on my own-”

“Focus, you stinking ball of fur!” exclaimed Shart.  “They appear to have a bit of a hive mentality going on.”

If there’s ever anything you don't want to hear about, it’s five swarms of unified murderous Wasps planning a coordinated attack.  To my horror, they had formed up into five smaller balls of Wasps and were working on surrounding me. 

“I’d volunteer to dig us to safety, but the ground is enchanted against digging,” Badgelor informed me.  But what do I know, though?  I’m just a stupid badger who can’t even be trusted to use his own powers.”

Suddenly, SueLeeta’s cat launched itself into one of the swarms.  It didn’t do any damage, and they stung it to death an instant later.  That was enough, though.  I dug deep into my personal well of Stamina and leapt over the swarming mass of insects as they murdered the poor summoned cat.  I hoped it couldn’t feel pain.  I cleared the swarm, which was over eight feet in height, with distance to spare.  I landed on the other side, ready to run.

The pain that exploded on my side was insane.  I heard the snapping of a jaw as Badgelor ate the offending Wasp, and I stumbled several paces before charging forward.  The poison effect was so painful that I nearly lost consciousness.  The only thing keeping me awake was that it actually hurt so much that I couldn’t pass out.  I saw colors and could taste sounds in that moment of pure hallucinogenic pain. 

“Fecking Iron Will isn’t working,” I grunted through the agony, barely able to keep moving.

“No, it is,” Shart argued.  “You are getting less than half the total amount of pain from that debuff.” 

“Feck,” I stated, leaping over a rise and rushing toward the trees.

“Incoming,” stated Shart, causing me to reflexively jump to the right.  The Wasps could move fast, faster than me in a straight line.  For whatever reason, they couldn’t move as easily to the left or the right at full speed.  Perhaps because being able to turn at those speeds would have made them an aerodynamic nightmare that even the <system> couldn’t cope with creating.  Thankfully, the swarm missed me. 

“Badgelor, weapons free!” I yelled, changing Destructive Gaze to allow him to target things without my prompting.

●                    You cannot change Destructive Gaze’s targeting parameters in battle.  Please wait until you are out of combat.

“FUCK,” I screamed, leaping from another attack.  I was never going to be able to make it to the woods, and it wouldn’t matter if I did.  They were just too fast.  I brushed another wave of them away with my flaming barrier, even as they continued bearing down on me.   The barrier was not designed for general use, and cracks were forming across it.  I released it, allowing the barrier to recover.  I was defenseless for the next fifteen seconds. 

Dodging and weaving away from the insects was becoming increasingly problematic.  I needed to do something.  I started looking for a weak point in the swarms, but I couldn’t see any reason for their hive-minded behavior. 

Hive-minded.

Their hives were hidden in a mass of vines that rendered them extremely difficult to burn.  I wondered if that was where their queens were located.  Maybe destroying those would lessen the swarm effect they had going. 

“Shart, rock,” I stated, as I started dashing back toward the castle.  The swarms were moving in an intricate pattern and could flow through each other, even as they chased after me.  As we continued moving, they started circling around toward me and closing the distance at an alarming rate.

Then, I sensed that Shart had the rock.  He’d known the one I’d meant through our improved bond.  I grabbed the explosive rock and tossed it through the broken mass of vines at the Wasps’ nest.  It pierced the side of the nest.  There was a boom and a bright flash. 

Instantly, one of the swarms collapsed on itself.  It stopped being a carefully coordinated mass of insects and just turned into a ball of Wasps, each eager to get away from the others.  I had a plan.  A plan contingent upon having materials I did not possess.  It was not a good plan. 

Moments later, a second nest exploded, causing a second swarm to dissolve.  I’d forgotten SueLeeta and her explosive arrows.  Well, actually, I had figured SueLeeta would have gotten away in the confusion.  Then, I recalled she had access to my location, as well and wasn’t the kind to leave someone behind.  If we’d both run, that would have been a different story.  When I turned back around to fight, she’d apparently done the same.

The problem with SueLeeta’s explosive arrow was that it was a Stamina hog, and it had a cooldown.  She couldn’t use it more than once every thirty seconds.  Assuming the three remaining swarms kept coming for me, I figured I could kite, or lead, them around the battlefield while she destroyed the remaining nests. 

Unfortunately, as soon as she shot her arrow, the remaining three swarms stopped chasing me.  It took them all of two seconds to figure out where SueLeeta was, and they headed toward her instead.  I caught a strange scent of magic.

“I think there’s a Wizard on the field,” I yelled, bringing my barrier back online. 

“You dolt!  There aren’t any Wizards anywhere nearby.  The only magic users here are you and that Shaman on the castle wall,” stated Shart.

“What?” I cried.  “Badgelor, shoot the Shaman!”  I gestured toward the castle.

“With what?  It's not like I can use a bow and arrow,” called the badger.

I had to say the power in a specific format.  There was only one format I knew that seemed to be applicable here.  “Badgelor, use Destructive Gaze on the Shaman!”

Badgelor pivoted on my back, lining up his shot for the briefest of moments.  His eyes glowed red before two crimson rays shot toward the Shaman.  The Shaman was tall for a goblin, and even more grotesque than I was used to.  In fact, my Goblin Lore skill informed me that he was no goblin at all.  That creature was a troll.  As Badgelor’s beams blasted toward him, the Shaman did something I had never seen before.

The vines suddenly pulled toward him, forming a protective hedge.  The beams blasted uselessly against it.  Severed hunks of vine fell away from the hedge as it collapsed.  The Shaman looked down at me and pointed. 

“Is that another spell?” I asked.

“No, it's a more direct approach,” stated Shart, as a second massive troll barreled through the front gate.  I used Lore.

●                    Vertquiv: Forest Troll Sub-Boss, level 18

●                    HP: 820/820

●                    Stamina: 615/615

●                    Mana: 250/250

●                    Regeneration: Trolls can use their Mana, followed by Stamina, to enhance their regenerative properties.  Trolls have weaknesses against certain elemental types.  Forest trolls are commonly weak against fire

●                    Powerful Blow VI: Vertquiv has mastered Powerful Blow to rank six.  He is using an oversized club which is optimized for this attack.  His base attacks can spend up to 18 points of Stamina to add 36 points of Damage to an attack.

                 Forest Trolls are massive, dim witted creatures that prowl the world in search of fresh meat.  These creatures continue to grow throughout their lives until they achieve a truly massive size or die.  

●                    You have learned the Skill, Troll Lore.  You are Amateur due to Woodsman’s Lore.  You can now tell the difference between a Forest Troll and your mother in law.  Hint, she’s meaner.

By himself, that troll was going to be a beast, and he had help.  There were still three active Wasp swarms on the field, as well as the Shaman.  If I could have gotten away from the wasps, I would have bolted there and then.  Unfortunately, they were still faster than me.  That meant they were certainly faster than SueLeeta, and I couldn’t just abandon her. 

“Badgelor, see if you can get around to the Shaman’s flank and use Destructive Gaze on him,” I ordered Badgelor.   “Shart and I will deal with the troll.”

“They are both trolls,” stated Shart.

“You aren’t helping,” I replied, angling toward the massive newcomer.  It saw me and grinned wickedly, holding up its huge, metal shod club.  I activated my Thrust skill and Powerful Blow at the same time, crossing the last bit of distance in the blink of an eye.  I slammed into the beast as hard as I could, jamming six inches of my blade into the thick muscle of its chest. 

●                    Thrust does base 20 points of Damage, X1.5 Thrust, X 2 Critical Strike, Vital Organ Heart - Total Damage 60 points, Troll negates 24 points, 36 points remaining.

“That isn’t good,” I muttered, as the troll forced me back with a swing of its club.  His wound was already sealed by the time I yanked my blade free.  Lore kept showing his Hit Points jumping up, point by point.  His Mana was going down, but it looked like a rate of about eight to one.  While his Mana regeneration was low, it was still looking like six points per minute.  The amount of damage required to kill this creature was going to be enormous.

Trolls are weak against fire, so I focused my Mana back into my blade.  It glowed red for an instant, too short to be useful in an attack.  I needed to wipe off that green gunk, and I had just been provided with nature’s own cleaning rag.  The troll stomped forward, and I readied my blade.

As the troll raised his club to strike, I felt an odd sensation down my neck and activated my Dodge skill.  I shot to the left, just as a bolt of lightning vaporized the ground I had been standing on.  I barely managed the follow up Dodge of the troll’s club, missing my opportunity for a counterattack.  I had just used Evasion, and the timing couldn’t have been better.  The troll and the Shaman had set up a one-two attack.  Had it worked, I would have been electrocuted and unable to Dodge before the troll struck me with his monstrous club.

I executed my improved Hack and Slash, which now had a total of three attacks in it, and folded Powerful Blow into each strike.  Before, I’d only been able to make two attacks.  Now, I could make three.  I directed all of them at the monstrosity before me.  The troll blocked one with his forearm, which I could see was thickly callused and regenerating even faster than other parts of his body.  The other two strikes slashed into his torso, opening huge gashes in the flesh.  They promptly sealed, but that hadn’t been the point.

Focusing my Mana into my blade, it erupted into fire, “Form Blazing Sword.”

The troll looked at my burning blade for a moment, hints of fear playing in his eyes.  He banished them quickly.  Fire didn’t do any extra damage to him; it just reduced his ability to regenerate.  I briefly wondered why he hadn’t coated himself with the sap from the vines, but it didn’t really matter now.  I closed and continued slashing.

The key point was that even though fire didn’t do extra Damage, it was still fire.  It did normal fire Damage, like the pleasant sensation of throwing your body into a bonfire.  Blazing Sword was my most Mana intensive attack, technically.  It allowed me to double the total Damage of my sword attack as pure fire Damage.  With my Flameology skill, that Damage was even higher, but it was still only a slight boost.  Unfortunately, the cost of the attack was one Mana per point of boosted Damage.  A single thrust could cost me upwards of 60 Mana.  It wasn’t all bad, though.  On something like a Cleave, which struck multiple opponents, I only had to pay the cost once.  It wasn’t based on how many opponents I hit.    

I had to drop Blazing Sword after my Hack and Slash used 72 points of Mana in a heartbeat.  He all but ignored my regular sword slashes, healing his wounds instantaneously.  Luckily, the searing fire wounds didn’t heal.  They left massive, smoldering lesions on him.  While those wounds attempted to heal, the troll’s regeneration seemed limited, so I pressed on. 

I struck him several more times while Dodging all his blows, the force of which would often cause the ground to shake.  I had an extensive Mana pool and even more Stamina, but felling this particular tree was going to take some effort.  As he stepped back, I brought my blade down against the back of his calf.  The troll stumbled, dropping to his knees in the dirt. 

Glancing over, I saw Badgelor and SueLeeta peppering the Shaman with arrows and energy blasts.  I realized that he was actually a bluish green, unlike the dark green troll I was facing.  The Shaman was currently hiding behind his hedge, and I was having difficulty getting a Lore reading off him.  Woodsman’s Lore allowed me to develop the respective Lore skill for each monster type I encountered easily but I was at the lowest level.  He may have had some magic to make using Lore difficult, or he may have been too high a level for my low-level Troll Lore skill to work.  Whereas the troll before me was a massive example of a common type of troll, the Shaman obviously wasn't as common.  There was nothing I could do to help Badgelor and SueLeeta, so I focused back on my own target.

The old tricks worked best, unfortunately.  As the troll got back to his feet, he threw a handful of dirt and sand in my face.  I attempted to Dodge, of course, but the cloud of material wasn’t something you could really Dodge.  For a moment, I was blinded.  Due to that brief loss of eyesight, the troll finally managed to land a solid blow with his club.

●                    You have been struck by Troll’s Powerful Blow: Base Damage 97 (58 Damage, 27 Bludgeoning Damage, 12 Crushing Damage), Defense of 31, Threshold 6, Mitigate 10. Your Threshold counters 6 points of enhanced Damage.  Mitigate downgrades 10 points of Damage (3 Crushing, 7 Bludgeoning), cost: 30 Stamina. You have taken 27 Damage, 15 Bludgeoning damage, 3 Crushing Damage.  Status effects: Damage, none, Bludgeoning Stun base 12 seconds, -6 Stamina, Reduce Stun (cost 18 Stamina) final stun 0 seconds, Crushing, none.  Powerful Blow VI applies knock back to the attack, base 6 logs +50% Large Weapon, +100% Large Creature, -6 logs for your Stamina.   Total 9 logs.

Logs were Ordinal’s measurement, equivalent to about a yard, which was about a meter.  I stupidly considered conversions as I was FLYING THROUGH THE AIR.  My body spun multiple times before slamming into the dirt face first.  Using Mobility and a few points of Stamina, I rolled back to my feet and began searching for my sword.  The force of the impact had caused me to drop the weapon.  I could hear insects buzzing in the distance.  The Wasps were coming for me.

Check that, I could hear insects buzzing very close to me.  Holding out my hand, I summoned my blade.  It flew through the air, slapped into my palm, and ignited.  I’ll be honest.  I’d taken Summon Weapon because it was cool, and not because I had, on one or two occasions, dropped my weapon in battle. 

I stood, witnessing the massive cloud of Wasps rushing straight to my face.  I only had one group attack, Cleave.

●                    Cleave: Attack all enemies in a 180-degree arc within melee range, 20 second cooldown.  Base Damage is +25% of normal attack.  Currently: 15-21 points.

Well, it did say all enemies.  I prepared the attack.  As the wasps entered its area of effect, I struck. I slashed with my now flame covered blade into the swarm of insects.  The feeling was like cutting into cheese, and insects started popping and exploding in a single massive stroke.  As the attack finished, I stared open-mouthed at the smoldering pile of Wasps.   Every single one in the swarm was dead.

The difference between theoretical knowledge of attacking multiple targets and the real-life experience of attacking every single bug in a swarm simultaneously was overwhelming.  My Cleave caused my hand to shake violently.  Also, my sword seemed to expand to the point where every single target found itself in the path of my attack.  It was a sensation that I couldn’t really describe as anything other than unnatural.  

“This place is weird,” I groaned and rushed back to engage the troll.  He had decided that I was too much of an annoyance and decided to go after my pet instead.  Badgelor and SueLeeta were still trading shots with the Shaman.  Badgelor was able to dodge most of his attacks, including his spells.  That, in turn, made the Shaman focus more on SueLeeta.  Her only saving grace was that she was best friends with Jarra the Healer, the town alchemist.

In other words, SueLeeta was chugging healing potions.  Ordinal didn’t subscribe to cooldowns on healing potions.  Instead, each additional potion had reduced effectiveness.  When used in rapid succession, each elixir was less restorative than the last.  I needed to get her some relief, but Badgelor was just about in position. 

“F’Poof,” I called, firing a Fire Bolt at the noxious Shaman.  That hedge was ideal against fire-based spells, so the shot did almost nothing by itself.  However, it did give SueLeeta time to line up a shot.  An instant later, an arrow slammed into the Shaman’s side, knocking him backwards off the castle wall.  SueLeeta had the Power Shot talent for her bow, just like I did.  I’ll admit, I felt a small flicker of joy watching the Shaman being flung off the wall.

My Dodge skill activated as a head-sized rock was flung past me, digging a furrow in the nearby dirt.  The troll bellowed and charged me; his massive club readied for another swing.  I could see Badgelor turning and charging behind the troll, but he was nearly fifty yards away.  SueLeeta was nearby, but her Health was vastly depleted. 

“I think I’m going to tank the troll,” I stated, getting ready to directly engage the troll to keep him away from Badgelor and SueLeeta. 

“That is a bad idea,” Shart replied, staring open-mouthed at the creature.  “If you die, I lose my way home!”

I had always run before.  That was the natural way of things when you saw some horrible monster, but SueLeeta was watching.  I could stand embarrassing myself, but I was not going to embarrass myself in front of someone else.  At least, not again.  I readied my sword and reformed my barrier.

The troll swung its club.  I slid forward, striking against its forearm with my burning blade.  He bellowed, stepping away.  I attempted a Hack and Slash on him.  The creature took both hits and swung at me with a wide blow.  I had no choice but to break off my attack.   The troll brought a knee up into my barrier, the magical shield cracking as he did so.  His knee began to smolder, even as I was pushed backward. 

I landed on my feet and immediately used a Thrust, covering the distance between us hurriedly.  I managed to get to him before he could recover, driving my sword deep into the troll’s gut.  He attempted to knock me free with his club, so I released my blade and focused on a Fire Bolt.  It blasted him in the shoulder as he wrenched away from me.  The troll smirked when he saw me unarmed, at least until I opened my palm.  My blade tore itself from his stomach and slapped back into my open hand. 

As I watched, his Health slowly ticked back up.  I readied myself for another skirmish with the beast.  The troll inhaled sharply and screamed so loudly that I felt my bones vibrate. 

●                    You have been affected by Sonic Scream: Damage 18, Disorient 4 seconds.

I stumbled, trying to clear the ringing from my skull.  It was then that he hit me with a powerful overhead blow, driving me to my knees.  I was barely able to use Mitigate to counter some of the Damage.  I felt his knee jam into my back as the troll used his entire weight to press me into the dirt.  At that range, his club was too bulky to use.  He began pounding me in the back of the skull with his fist. 

●                    You have suffered 28 points of Bludgeoning Damage.  You are stunned for 2 seconds.

●                    You have suffered 22 points of Bludgeoning Damage.  You are stunned for 1.6 seconds.

“We should totally call Bludgeoning Damage Bamage,” I told Shart.

“Focus, you numbskull!”

Each hit caused the stun effect to lessen.  I could feel one of my eyeballs squish as he slammed me, face-first, into a rock.  By the fourth hit, I was able to operate as the stun minimized itself.  I pressed both palms to the ground and pushed.  For one terrifying instant, it seemed to do nothing.  Then, the troll’s weight shifted, and he fell to the side. 

Finally, Badgelor was there.  My companion had expanded to his largest size and was launching himself at the troll, his thick claws rending the troll’s flesh.  The troll spun around in an attempt to dislodge Badgelor, but Badgelor was built for physical damage resistance. 

As I stood shoving my partially shattered eye back into its socket, the troll grabbed his club and brought the weapon down on Badgelor’s broad back.  It sounded like a fist meeting leather.  I checked the damage log, surprised to find that I still had full ‘vision’ in my menus.

●                    Badgelor has been struck by Troll’s Powerful Blow: Base Damage 97, Final Damage 22.

Trying to close my ruined eye, I growled and summoned my sword back to my hand.  It promptly ignited.  Shart had fled from my shoulder but was considerate enough to stay nearby. He handed me a healing potion which I greedily drank.   At the moment, the troll’s full concentration was on Badgelor, so I was able to get behind the troll without much effort.  I’d have to thank that beast later.  He’d shown me that it didn’t matter how many Hit Points you had, if you weren’t in a position to defend yourself.  I’d also have to thank Achilles.

Shart nodded, “You aren’t going to be able to do this without my help, Dum Dum.”  With that, the demon grabbed my sword and dragged it across his palm, coating it with his thick purple blood.  Demonic blood was the most poisonous substance I’d run into on Ordinal.  I was curious to see what it would do to the troll.  I was concerned about it burning off, but, as I watched it interact with the flames, I realized I had nothing to worry about. 

The troll suddenly sported several burning arrows in his side, as SueLeeta’s cooldown ran out.  I rushed in, flaming sword burning brightly.  He noticed that even more than he noticed the badger that was currently trying to eat his head.  I simply waited.  As the troll turned to face me, Badgelor took the opportunity to really go to town on the troll’s back.  He began truly tearing in with abandon.  I swear, I saw him put a bite of troll back into his mouth.  Having a one-ton aggressive badger on his back was enough to distract the troll, leaving me free to execute my plan.

I came in slashing, hacking my way through the beast’s right Achilles tendon.  As the tendon snapped, the blackened, poison-covered blade tip vanished into the troll’s leg.  He toppled over, like a colossal tree.  Unfortunately, the troll fell on his back.  Badgelor was under him, pinned by the weight of that poor, enormous troll. 

Yes, that poor troll, because five of Badgelor’s six ends were pointy. It would be like stepping on a nail, except the nail actively hates you and is purposefully seeking your groin and was trying to get there through your spine.  The troll screamed as the badger began tearing huge chunks of its flesh away. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I stated, narrowly avoiding a blood fountain that was gushing from the troll’s thigh.

‘Lightweight,” replied Shart.  I checked for another way to strike at the troll.  Shart was about to say something else when a beam of bright, pure light flashed over my shoulder.  It stuck the demon, hurling him to the ground.

In his immaterial form, I’d never seen Shart affected by anything.  He had landed several paces away, still smoking from where the blast had hit him.  I checked the spell.

●                    Holy Bolt has affected Shart, your familiar.  Base damage 11 points, X8 vs demonic creatures, Final Damage 88.  Banish test, failed (bonded familiar), Exorcism test, failed (bond level advanced). Demon rendered Material.  Familiar is stunned for 48 seconds (6 second base X 8).  Bond level reduced from Tight to Strong.  

That’s not good.

I attempted to connect to Shart using our mental link.  I got back static.  That was even more troubling.  I was, for the most part, used to Shart by now.  His sudden total absence was disconcerting.  I dropped out of menu time to go physically check on him.  The moment I reached him, I heard a pathetic inquiry.

“Who dis?” slurred the demon.

“What happened to you?” I yelled, snatching him off the ground.  I attempted to shove him onto my shoulder, but he promptly tumbled off.  Whatever shoulder magic he used to hold himself onto my person was also deactivated. 

“Oh, Dum Dum,” Shart drunkenly mumbled from the ground, “You are my Dum Dum.  Someone tried to banish me.  It's okay.  Don’t worry.  I’m bonded to you.  You.’  Here, Shart stopped and pointed at what he probably thought was me but was, in fact, a tree.  “Our bond would have to be severed first.  Oh . . .”  Shart scrunched his face up in concentration.  “Yeah, I think he tried that, too.  Don’t worry, though.  Our bond is strong.  We are glue!  You are a good Dum Dum human.”

“What if he casts it again?” I asked, picking Shart up.  I tried to figure out what to do with the dodgeball-sized demon now that I had to physically carry him.

Shart grabbed my head in his hands and stared deeply into my eye.  “Oh, I’d be right fucked,” he said with emphasis.  He let go of my head and stared up at the sky.  “I’d get banished back to the nether and I’m not supposed to be there!  I’d be stuck there until I got summoned again.  I would never be summoned again!  No one knows my true name!  You don’t even know my true name, and,” he grabbed my face again to stare lovingly into my eyes, “You’re my best friend.”  Then, the meandering demon kissed me on the forehead.

“That’s terrible, but we are in a fight,” I stated, glancing around.  I spotted a hole where the troll had dented the ground sufficiently.  It was an oddly shaped hole, with a bit of my blood and eye juice in it. 

“Oh, for the love of,” I grumbled and shoved Shart into the face-shaped depression in the ground.  The troll’s tender ministrations had pounded it deeply enough that I was able to fit most of the demon in there.  He was hidden well enough to prevent the Shaman from casting another spell at him.  SueLeeta had resumed peppering the magical troll with arrows.

Despite the poison and the badger, the troll still managed to heal his leg sufficiently.  Despite Badgelor’s new size, the badger was not fully equipped to handle the troll.  The monster had grabbed Badgelor by the leg and was repeatedly slamming him into the ground.  Badgelor was trying to claw his way free, but his claws had become embedded in the troll’s flesh.  The two were basically stuck together, and the troll was flailing about wildly. 

With all my stats and skills, severing their connection would have been impossible.  Fortunately, I had a few abilities that I left in reserve for those sorts of eventualities.  All at once, I activated Force Thrust, Powerful Blow, and Blazing Sword.  In my pool of abilities, I had Force points that allowed me to make a perfect strike.  I pictured severing the troll’s hand, and my body just reacted.

I surged across the ground, ducking under Badgelor and leaping up at the last possible moment.  Force Thrust, as the name implied, was a thrusting attack.  I couldn’t lop off the troll’s hand with it, but I could drive my sword straight through the meat, right between where the hand and the wrist met. 

The troll bellowed, swinging his arm wildly.  An extremely audible, horrible, wet ripping sound filled the air.  One second, Badgelor was behind me, making various badger noises.  The next second, he was airborne, flying straight into the nearby castle wall.  Badgelor struck vines, which cushioned the impact enough that slamming into the wall didn’t cause additional Damage.

Badgelor slid to the ground, covered in the sticky, green sap from the greenery.  He shook his head and glanced at his filthy fur.  “Bugger all.”

That’s when I heard the Wasps again.  The Shaman had been directing them, but, as he became distracted by SueLeeta, the Wasps had lost interest.  Now, all the remaining winged pests were aggressively flying straight at Badgelor.  I could see blind rage building up in the badger as he stood in the direct line of fire.  Only then did it occur to me why the Troll hadn’t covered himself with flame retardant sap.  The Wasps loved the stuff, just like Shart had said.

“Come,” I screamed and something deep in our companion bond clicked.  Badgelor lurched to his feet and rushed toward me.  His mixture of facial expressions was an odd one.  On one hand, he was happy to have any sort of plan that didn’t involve him getting stung to death by wasps.  On the other hand, I had just ordered him about like a dog. 

“I’m going to come all over you, you daft bugger,” called out Badgelor, as he rushed toward me. 

I gestured to the troll, whose face was a gleeful mask.  He saw the Wasps and realized what was about to happen to the very hated badger.

“Shrink,” I yelled.

“I can’t make him shrink,” yelled Badgelor, before realization set in.  “Oh…”  The troll’s expression had changed from glee to horror as the badger kept closing with him.  Figuring that the badger was going to make a suicide run, the troll got his club ready.  As Badgelor leapt at him, the troll swung like a batter, even as Badgelor began to shrink down from his Ultimate Badgelor size to his War Form.  As Badgelor shrank, his surface area did, too.  Much of the green sap came off him, landing everywhere as he was baseballed safely out of range by the troll’s club. 

Safely out of range was putting it mildly.  It looked like a home run. 

Both swarms of Wasps found their new target and surrounded the injured troll.  I ran toward the Shaman as the troll’s reserve cracked.  He went from swatting at the insects to screaming in agony as their poison affected him. 

The Shaman began frantically waving his arms, trying to use some sort of magic to save the massive troll.  As it turned out, the Wasps loved that sap more than they loved his magic.  With his thoughts on the troll and the Wasps, he wasn’t paying attention to SueLeeta.  An explosive arrow hit his weakened hedge barrier, followed a moment later by another arrow.  The Shaman stared at that second arrow.  It was protruding from his chest.  He gently touched it, right before it exploded.  The Shaman vanished from his hedge in a cloud of blood and flinders.

“That’s one way to do it,” I yelled over to SueLeeta.  She collapsed, having blown through her remaining Stamina pool on that one last shot.  She was prepared, though.  I saw the faint green residue of a Stamina potion in a vial lying on the ground next to her.  She rolled onto her back as I approached.

“We should have run,” she stated, to the unholy dying screams of the troll.

Chapter 39: One Dead Troll

Despite all the Wasps, the troll wasn’t really dying.  He was just living a torturous hell as his body was stung over and over again.   He would get close to death, but his body would heal.  Then, the horrid little Wasps would start the process all over again.  I waited a full five minutes, watching the beast writhe in agony.  Finally, I had enough.  There was no telling how long his horrific pain would last.  His Mana and Stamina pools had both depleted, but he was still slowly regenerating both.  That was enough to keep him alive indefinitely. 

At the five-minute mark, he had managed to kill most of the Wasps just by flailing.  Getting close to him was no longer an issue.  I walked over and jammed my blazing sword into his heart.  It was super effective.

●                    You have gained a level in Warrior (Level 14)

●                    You have gained a level in Rogue (Level 14)

●                    You have gained a level in Woodsman (Level 14)

●                    You have gained a level in Mage (Level 14)

●                    You have three remaining stat buffs in reserve.  Do you wish to assign? (Yes/No)

●                    You have gained multiple Ranks in Powerful Blow, Powerful Blow upgraded to Powerful Blow 3.

●                    Your Hit Points have increased, your maximum Hit Points are now 660

●                    Your Stamina has increased, your maximum Stamina is now 540

●                    Your Mana has increased, your maximum Mana is now 220

Four more levels, just from killing one troll.  I considered that a good day's work.  My face still felt like crap, though.  I tried to open my injured eye.  I could see, but not very well.  Despite all the wounds, I still had over half my Health, so I didn’t really feel like I was in that much pain. 

SueLeeta limped over to me.  She’d drank nearly her entire supply of healing potions and was waiting for the healing potion debuff to expire before drinking another.  Her leg was stiff, and she was holding her arm.  Still, she could move. 

“That was a sub-boss,” she said, eyeing me. 

I shrugged, “So it was.”

“Look at me, you twit,” she stated, grabbing my head with her good hand and carefully examining my eye.  Finally, she reached up slowly and pulled a rather sharp piece of rock from my eyeball.  The sensation of my eye being yanked slowly out of its socket was disturbing.  My body was racked with goosebumps as a squelching sound followed the rock’s exit.   “Can you still see?”

I blinked several times.  I could definitely feel something slippery in the socket.  When I opened my eyes, I had blurry vision.  Blinking several more times, it cleared up.  The first thing I saw clearly was the bewildered expression on SueLeeta’s face.  “Yes, I can.”

“You are one tough sonabitch,” she exclaimed, shaking her head.  “I thought he had you until Badgelor got ahold of him.”

“I screwed up,” I stated, remembering how the troll had gotten a piece of me.

“I’ll agree with that,” she replied, eyeing the troll’s body.  “We should have run.” 

“Loot?” I asked, glancing at the massive creature’s belt pouch.

SueLeeta had a positively wicked smile, “Why certainly.”

I had to execute another Cleave on the few remaining Wasps that were desecrating the corpse.  With them out of the way, the troll’s pouch was readily accessible.  I opened it up.  The contents were very disappointing.  Twelve sets of goblin ears and some herbs.  There were a few shiny baubles as well, but nothing that tripped my Scan skill.

The corpse itself had more potential.  SueLeeta was already carving out portions of flesh that contained massive quantities of Wasp eggs.  There were multiple parts of the body that could be used for medicinal purposes.  She also assured me that troll meat was both edible and slow to rot.  I decided to leave her to that and began searching the battlefield for anything useful. 

The Wasps nests each contained some royal jelly, another alchemical component.  I activated my Herbalism skill and checked everything around the castle.  Obviously, the vines were alchemical components, but some of the weeds and flowers near the castle were only found here.  They looked like they might be useful as well. 

I examined the wall’s gate with my Engineering skill.  I needed to get a rough estimate of what was going to be required for repairs.

●                    Castle Gate: Damaged, Repairs 40 Lumber, 20 Metal, 150 build points

“JIM,” came a mental voice, “Get me out of this hole.”

I walked back over to Shart.  His little legs were wiggling mightily as he attempted to worm his way free.  He might have succeeded, if he’d had enough time.  I grabbed him by his tail and yanked.  He came free with a tiny little pop.  He promptly vanished from my grip, only to reappear on my shoulder.  His face was an indignant mess, and he was muttering.

“Took you long enough,” he grumbled.

“You can teleport,” I retorted.

“Only if I’m able to move freely.  I was trapped in a hole,” replied the demon tartly.  That seemed like a weird limitation.  Then again, I had initially defeated Shart by trapping him by his horns.  Maybe it wasn’t so weird after all. 

I looked at the top of the wall where the Shaman had been standing.  He was gone, and there was a thick, lime green paste on everything nearby.  Using my Scan skill, I searched through the vines underneath the explosion site.  I found what I was looking for at the base of the wall.

●                    Staff of Insect Control: Rare, this staff grants you the ability to cast Insect Control as a Journeyman Druid.  Charge 10/10.  Owner: Meklar

“Neat staff,” stated Shart, looking at it carefully.  Badgelor wandered over as we were examining it.

“It says it still has an owner,” I stated, gesturing . . . at nothing, because Shart couldn’t see what I was seeing.  I noticed an odd sensation flowing down our link.  Ever since I’d started wearing the Ring of Mental Bonds, Shart was able to better see what I was doing.  I wondered if the opposite was true.

“Wait,” replied the demon, “Didn’t you kill the Shaman?”

“SueLeeta, did you kill the Shaman?” I asked.  She was flexing her hand and turned her head to face me. 

“I exploded him,” she answered.  “In my experience, that’s usually pretty lethal.”

“Shit,” stated Shart.  I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that exploding and killing were two separate terms when applied to a Shaman. 

Suddenly, the staff yanked in my hand.  I had a monstrously good grip from all the sword skills I had, so it didn’t slip from my grasp.  Instead, I was yanked with the staff and pulled toward the castle wall. 

I looked up and saw the blue troll in all his glorious nakedness, junk flapping in the breeze.  It looked like an over-microwaved purple hotdog on a cold day.  I pulled hard on the staff, but the magic was very much on the Shaman’s side.  I began rising in the air as I got closer to him.

“A little help here,” I called out, but Badgelor was already on the move.  By the time he reached me, the badger was back to his largest size.  As I was only a few inches off the ground, I was still well within his jumping range.  Badgelor used that to full effect, tackling me from behind and driving me to the ground.  I somehow managed to keep ahold of the staff, despite taking six points of “getting smashed face first into the ground” Damage. 

Unfortunately for Meklar, the results on his end were a bit more extreme.  He had been standing on the edge of the castle wall, using his magic to draw the staff back to himself.  When I was ruthlessly tackled by a huge ass badger, magical physics reared its ugly head.  Meklar was pulled toward me.  He flew up into the air for the first five feet or so, before gravity took over.  The Shaman landed with an audible crunch.

“I don’t think a neck is supposed to bend that way,” stated SueLeeta, examining the body.

●                    Meklar, 17th level Shaman.

●                    Condition:  Dead, cooldown 12 seconds

●                    HP: 0/210

●                    Meklar is an Ice Troll Shaman.  Ice Trolls have an affinity for water and earth magic.  Known weakness: acid.

●                    Magical effect: Immunity to Acid, 24 hours.

“Hey, my Troll Lore leveled up,” I stated, as I extradited myself from Badgelor’s loving embrace. 

SueLeeta frowned.  “Figures, I just got that Lore at unskilled.”

“Want me to eat him?” volunteered Badgelor, licking his lips.

I shrugged, and Badgelor turned around.  He marched to the much larger troll corpse that SueLeeta had finished with.  SueLeeta looked like she was going to say something, but she only sighed.  One didn’t question a huge ass badger.

Suddenly, the staff started pulling again.  The Shaman was back on his feet.  His face was one of wicked anticipation as I started skidding toward him.  He babbled something in Troll as I closed, but he only had 3 hit points.

Just as his hand found the staff, I took one of my daggers and jammed it into his skull.  He released the staff, gurgling and pawing at his head until he collapsed.  He twitched violently before passing out.

“Do you have any acid?” I asked.

“No,” replied SueLeeta, examining the body once again.  “Plus, he has an acid immunity for twenty-four hours.”

“What a dick,” I stated, as his eyes snapped back into focus.  I crushed his windpipe with my boot, causing him to go limp again. 

“I guess I could keep shooting him,” said SueLeeta, readying her bow. 

“That seems really time consuming,” I said, kneeling and ripping my dagger from his skull.  The wound sealed almost instantly, and Meklar’s eyes shot open with a glare of malice.  I drove my dagger back into the same hole, twisting it this time for further gooey effects.

“We could tie him up,” I suggested. 

So, we did.  It took killing him three more times in the process, but Meklar was finally bound properly.  Then, he came back to life again, at which point all the ropes fell right off.  It was as if they hadn’t been knotted well or even tied at all.  He collapsed an instant later with two arrows in his chest. 

“Well, that’s bothersome,” stated SueLeeta. 

“It's a shame to waste good experience potential,” I said, drawing my longsword and executing a Powerful Blow to decapitate the Shaman.

We went like that for several minutes.  SueLeeta actually drew out her melee weapon, a hatchet, and ‘killed’ Meklar multiple times between my Powerful Blows. 

“This is not worth much,” I commented after checking my character sheet.  Powerful Blow gained Skill Points based on the amount of Damage I was doing.  Killing a troll with only 3 Hit Points wasn’t doing very much.  All out strikes on bigger targets were where the money was. 

We didn’t have any acid, though, and it wouldn’t have mattered if we did.  Not until his immunity to acid was up.  Nothing we tried did much more than temporarily incapacitate Meklar.  I considered breaking the Acid Protection effect with my Counterspell skill, figuring that it was a spell he had cast upon himself rather than an ability.  Unfortunately, reaching into the spell showed that the Shaman had warded his spell to make it impossible for me to counter.  I’d have to break through those wards first to even get at the spell, but what was the point?  I still didn’t have any acid. 

“I have an idea.” I called out, “Badgelor, hold off on the main course!  I have an appetizer for you!”

“Too late,” replied the badger, already torso deep in the other troll’s chest.  “I thought you were going to eat that one.”

I twisted my sword in the troll’s heart.  “Why would you think I’d want to eat troll?”

“I hear the blue ones are good eating, if you get the right kind of berries to go with them,” replied SueLeeta.  “I hear there’s even a spell to turn them into gold!”

“That’s ridiculous,” stated Shart.  “It's the smaller ones that turn into gold.  Everyone who isn't a massive idiot knows that.”

Small blue magical creatures that turn into gold.  Where had I heard that before?

I used my longsword to cut Meklar in half.  Within twelve seconds, his magical regeneration had restored his body to whole.  As he came back to life, I decapitated him again.  Then, I had SueLeeta explode the head.  The rest of his body formed a new head, so I cut him in half, again.

“Come eat this one!  You need some blue in your diet,” I yelled, half dragging the corpse toward Badgelor.  SueLeeta fired an arrow into the Shaman’s chest every few paces.

“Look, honestly, a blue one tastes weird after a green one,” growled the badger, sucking in a hunk of intestines like they were spaghetti. 

“You can’t seriously be this picky an eater,” I grumbled, slamming my sword into the troll’s chest and twisting the blade.  “I don’t want to have to go back to town and say Badgelor was afraid of eating a blue troll.”

“You eat some of it, then,” replied the badger.

I looked down at the rapidly regenerating corpse.  “I’m not fond of eating intelligent creatures.”

“Who’s the coward now?” mocked Badgelor.

“There’s a difference, right, SueLeeta,” I stated.  She looked at me perplexed.

“I caught that Badgelor wanted you to eat him.  While I do not partake, you get your freak on,” she replied coolly.  I had been speaking in Badger.  Apparently, my Badger was easier to understand than Badgelor’s Badger. 

“I am not going to eat troll,” I reiterated.

“Jim, that’s disgusting,” replied SueLeeta.  “First off, it's necrophilia right now.  Second, when Meklar comes to, I doubt he’s going to consent.”

“Seriously?” I stated, looking down my nose at her.

“If you are going to put part of another intelligent creature into your body, you better believe you should get consent first,” she said, taking aim at the Shaman.  She winked at me and fired.  SueLeeta could deadpan better than anyone else I could think of, except my wife. 

I heard a thunk and a scream.  Meklar, who had been attempting to crawl away, took an arrow to the knee.  Given how few Hit Points he had, that too was lethal.

“Shart, you have anything for this?” I asked, “More demon blood or something?”

“Now, I’m Mr Popularity,” grumbled the demon.  “Yes, my blood stops all magical regeneration.  That’s why I gave it to you before. You are using it raw right now, so it would only work for a minute or two.  Then, he would revive again.”

I wanted to scream, so I decapitated the Shaman again.  “Alright, Badgelor, enough playing around.  After we kill this final troll, I will go with you to look for Charles.  We’ll take as much time as we need, alright?  We will look until we find him.”

Badgelor beamed, “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

As Meklar came to, he found his feet in the mouth of a badger.  Badgelor used his claws and rather voracious appetite to devour the unlucky Shaman.  As Meklar’s head vanished into Badgelor’s mouth, I felt a ping and noticed a prompt.

●                    The Staff of Insect Control has no owner.  Would you like to claim it? (Yes/No)

I selected “Yes” and checked the staff.  Sure enough, it listed me as the owner.  “I figured it would take him longer to die in your stomach.”

“Oh, I have a talent for that now, Instant Digestion,” replied the badger.  I read through the talent. It allowed him to instantly ‘kill’ anything he managed to devour.  I didn’t realize the significance of that until just now.  A normally unkillable regenerating enemy could be tossed into Badgelor’s stomach and slain through a magical digestive process. 

“So, shall we go look for Charles?” I asked Badgelor and he frowned.

“You know I don’t have any idea where he is,” replied Badgelor.

“Well then, I suppose we should go investigate the castle,” I stated and started walking toward the main gate as Badgelor snorted and followed.  Since the troll had sprinted through it, there were unlikely to be any traps remaining.  It looked like a typical gatehouse, I supposed.  Aside from the vine covered walls filled with deadly Demon Wasp nests, there didn’t seem to be any other defenses.  I just walked on in.

I stopped right inside the gate.  Of course, the vines were on this side as well.  I spotted several more large Demon Wasp nests.  The Wasps stirred at my appearance and fled the hives, moving toward me at a troubling rate of speed. 

I clutched the Staff of Insect Control, sensing what spells it had available.

●                    Insect Ward: One Charge, Insects will stay 10 feet from you.

●                    Insect Attract: Two Charges, Insects will move toward a target from up to 50 feet away.

●                    Insect Control: Two Charges +1 per swarm, Take control of (Charisma) swarms of insects.

Using the staff was not difficult.  I tapped myself with the staff and the Demon Wasps stopped flying toward me and headed for SueLeeta and Badgelor.  I pointed the staff at each of them, and the insects stopped moving toward them as well.  I considered shooting SueLeeta’s new pet, but she understood.  The creature was already walking at her heel, close enough to reap SueLeeta’s benefits.  According to my prompts, we had an hour of insect free time before the spell worse off. 

“Handy,” I stated, placing my sword back into its dimensional sheath.  There was still a small amount of demon blood at the base of the blade.  I’d have to do something about that later.

As we crossed the threshold of the gate and looked around, I groaned, “This is it?”

On the other side of the majestic wall was a field.  There were a number of small, oddly spaced hills in the field, but, by and large, it was empty.  With the southern wall behind us still intact and the massive pile of rubble that must have been the northern wall, I was able to approximate the layout of the area quickly.  The large pile in the middle had to be the keep. 

“That’s not good,” stated SueLeeta, looking around.  She instantly broke away from me and started searching the nearby piles.  I wandered toward the largest pile. 

Reaching it and looking around, I confirmed that this had to have been the center of the castle.  The keep was totally detached from all the outer walls.  Its rubble formed a much larger pile than the other structures.  I found the head of a gargoyle on one side that I kicked away.  The head rolled for a moment, and I’m pretty sure its expression changed when it came to a stop.  I stopped kicking statue heads.  Circling the debris, I found what looked like wagon tracks.  I surmised that people had been looting material from the castle to take elsewhere.  Sadly, that made sense, assuming the castle was already destroyed. 

The bailey around the castle wasn’t barren either.  Now that I knew what to look for, I could see numerous other ruined structures.  It wasn’t packed wall to wall, but there were certainly enough skeletal remains of buildings to see that something bad had happened here.  It resembled the burned section of Windfall, and I wondered how closely those events were related.

“Found it!” cried SueLeeta.  She signaled from the entrance to the basement of one of the structures.  Whatever it had been was a mystery, but the building had a cellar.  That cellar was intact and had an opening just large enough to allow a troll to fit through, if he squeezed.  You could easily see the damage he had caused by entering and leaving the structure, but it was already so far gone that it didn’t seem to matter much.

I had a free Adventurer talent point, so I checked the menu for cave exploration talents.  I found Danger Sense, which would tell me if there was going to be a problem entering a room.  I had more talent points in my other classes, but I didn’t see anything immediately worth spending points on. 

Upon investing the point, the underground chamber went from looking evenly dangerous to simply having a few dangerous spots I needed to avoid.  When my Trap Finding spotted several traps in the dangerous spots, I realized this was going to be a thing.  I began the process of slowly going through the cellar.

It wasn’t like in Windfall, where the cellar was under the barrier.  That was a stupid practice that everyone seemed to take without complaint.  Instead, this cellar was part of the structure.  I walked down earthen stairs that seemed a bit too firm.  When I got to the floor, it appeared to be packed dirt.  However, it felt like solid rock.  I kicked it and then took my sword and jabbed at it.  Neither left a mark.

“Shart,” I gestured down, “Is this part of the no digging magic Badgelor mentioned?”

“Good call, Dum Dum,” stated Shart.  “Yes, when they laid out the spell, they probably had an apprentice walk down and mark each room.  That would have given the benefit to all existing structures.  If you look to the edge, you’ll notice that there is some topsoil.  Below that thin layer, it's all enchanted soil.”

I looked, and he was right.  There was a layer of dirt that you could dig into.  After that, the soil became as hard as stone.  Harder actually, now that I thought about it.  Badgelor could easily cut through stone, and my sword should have at least marked it.  The problem in the cellar was that the ceiling was made of old, rotted timber, grass, dirt, and Grebthar knows what else on top of it. 

Searching the chamber, I found two traps.  Both were near a chest, and both were easily disarmed.  The first was a simple deadfall trap that would have brought the ceiling down on us if a tripwire was pulled taunt.  I cut the wire after checking that tension was the key and moved it out of the way.  The other was a concealed nest of the Demon Wasps which would be useless against SueLeeta and myself with the insect ward active.

“Seems illogical,” SueLeeta said, gesturing to where the Wasp nest was located behind a panel in the still intact wall.  “By the time you get here, you must already know how to bypass the Wasps.”

“Means someone might come in from the North,” I replied, looking at its mechanism.  If you failed to use the key on the chest, or in my case pick the lock successfully, it would trip the trap. 

SueLeeta nodded and shifted closer to the stairwell going out.  She had resummoned Cat Twenty-Six, the poor bugger, and was not entirely happy on being here, “This place ain’t safe.  We need to hurry.”

“Well, shouldn’t we loot the Shaman’s chest first?” I asked with a grin as SueLeeta and Badgelor followed me over.  Badgelor yawned and found a spot to lie down.  The hole in the ceiling was letting in just enough sun to provide the small critter with a warm bed. 

SueLeeta’s hand slid back to her quiver as she examined the wall where the nest was located for a moment but then slid back.  Her best tactic was to use an explosive arrow, and she certainly didn’t want to do that here.

Inspecting the chest, I discovered it was trapped as I had expected. Unfortunately, there was also a decent lock attached.  I wondered if there was a key around somewhere.  SueLeeta looked sheepish as I gestured toward it.  Then, I remember she had blown up the Shaman. 

“Any clue where it landed?” I asked, regretting that there wasn’t a simple glowing orb or shimmering pouch to show where the key was.  I did have a talent that would find it, eventually, but I’d probably have to climb the castle wall to get it.  If the key was light enough, it might be well away from the explosion point. 

“Never mind, I’ll just pick it,” I stated, getting out my thieves tools.  I had built the kit after my initial efforts in the Blacksmith’s.  It would most likely contain enough tools to open any lock I would face.  It also included a large hammer for any locks that refused to open.   

SueLeeta sighed, “I just don’t get how you do that.”

“What?” I asked, pouring Mana into my hands, causing them to light up.  With one hand, I maintained my flame light.  With the other, I began fiddling with the lock.

“Everything,” she said, sitting down and idly scratching new Cat on the top of the head, “You know, you never told us your level.  I certainly can’t see it with my Lore, and, believe me, I’ve been trying.  You seem to be able to do just about everything.”

I didn’t respond for a moment, still working on the lock.  I heard a snap and pulled out the broken lock pick.  Dangling it in front of her, I responded, “Well, I’m not very good at everything.”

“What class are you?” SueLeeta asked bluntly.

“Does that matter?” I countered, pulling out another lock pick.  I’d gained a few Skill Points from the endeavor and was close to increasing my Lockpicking to Novice. 

“You realize that when I’m at the bar telling stories about this later, they’ll all sound like I’m just making stuff up, right?” she said.  “Jim cast spells as his animal companion was facing down this Shaman with me.  Jim was fighting the boss by himself.”

“He was doing a pretty good job of killing me until Badgelor got close,” I stated, still working the mechanism. 

“Bullshit,” she glowered.  “I could see your damn Health bar.  You barely moved down a quarter that entire fight.  Sure, the troll wasn’t taking much damage either before you got him with the Wasps, but I ain’t stupid.  I know something’s off!”

With an audible click, the chest popped open, exposing the treasure inside.  From the light coming from my palm, I could see SueLeeta’s face.  She was glaring at me.

I had wards against casual detection.  Hell, I had wards against very detailed detection, like extended use of Lore at short-range.  SueLeeta didn’t look like she was going to take no for an answer, though. 

“I could be really damage resistant,” I said.

“Jim, it's hard to make Lore work on you.  Your badger is another story,” she gestured to the sleeping animal.  I was warded by talents and magical items to make myself harder to see.  Badgelor was not similarly warded.  

●                    Badgelor: Companion to Jim, War Badger, base form

●                    Hit Points: 252/252 +(84/126 Overheal)

●                    Stamina: 140/140

●                    Mana: 140/140

●                    Lord of the Badgers: +28 Hit Points (+2 per Companion level)

●                    Improved Companion Bond: +84 Hit Points from <Unregistered Exception>

Well fuck.  Lord of the Badgers spelled everything out pretty clearly, and SueLeeta could do simple math.  If Badgelor got 2 bonus Hit Points per companion level and had 28 bonus Hit Points, I was level 14.  I’d been keeping that bit of knowledge away from pretty much everyone.  I wondered if Fenris knew.  The system message about an <Unregistered Exception> wasn’t doing me any favors, either.  There were a lot of pieces pointing to something being very wrong with little old me. 

“If you tell her, it's going to be a world of trouble,” thought Shart.  “You are, to my knowledge, the only human who’s ever had this particular condition.”  That condition was multiple levels in multiple classes. 

“What did your demon say?” asked SueLeeta coldly.  She had been watching me intently, and, apparently, I had a tell. 

I swallowed. I could kill her easily enough.  My mind reeled.  I didn’t want to kill her!  That thought was Shart’s thought.  The damn mental ring was making it too easy to read his mind.  I considered taking the ring off.  Wait, how had she known?  My face must have shown confusion, because she was ready to answer the unvoiced question. 

“The Holy Bolt missed you,” she snapped.  “It blasted right over your shoulder, but it sure as shit hit something.  The only thing this stupid, country bumpkin Hunter knows that holy energy strikes like that is a demon. Everyone knows they like to glue themselves to their host’s shoulder with their runoff.”

What the hell is runoff made of?

“He said to kill you.  I typically ignore him,” I stated, standing back up.  She moved back a pace, and Cat Twenty-Six got between us.

“You have control over him?” SueLeeta asked, watching me with an eye far keener than I was used to from her.  Used to having directed at me, at least.  I’d seen her look like that when she was picking targets at extended range. 

“Yes,” I replied.  This whole situation was wrong.  I could summon my blade and get to her in the blink of an eye, but she was fast enough that actually hitting her would be dicey.  I could use my Force power, but I tended to pick a vital location when using it.  I’d either grievously wound her or kill her. 

She examined me for a moment, tightened up her washboard abs.  “Tell me I’m fat,” she ordered.

“Why?” I asked, but she raised an eyebrow.  “Fine.  You are fat, SueLeeta.”

She watched my face and nodded.  “Everyone knows demons can’t lie.  If you were a demon’s familiar, and he was dominating you, you wouldn’t have been able to say that.”

“I could just think you’re fat,” I replied harshly.

“Jim, in no world am I fat,” she chuckled.  That was true.  SueLeeta looked more like an Amazon of old than anything else.  She was all muscle, toned and thin, while being curvy in just the right places. 

“Whew, that would have been tricky,” replied the demon.  “I’ve seen her naked.”  Shart actually couldn’t lie.  I still didn’t understand why demons couldn’t lie on Ordinal.  I did understand that they could play very fast and loose with the truth, despite being unable to outright lie.  SueLeeta had asked a direct question with very little wiggle room.

“So, what do you think is going on?” I asked, watching her closely.

“Here is what I think, tell me if I’m close,” she stated.  “You found a weak demon, and he’s your bonded familiar.  He’s been giving you buffs here and there, especially in War Leader.  That makes you far more powerful than you should be at your level.  You either don’t want to talk about it, or you can’t talk about it because your demon tells you not to.”

“That’s actually pretty close,” I said surprised.  Shart was weaker than me, now.  He was my bonded familiar.  He had given me a few buffs, like the War Leader talent or the Demonic Poison I’d used on the troll.  Shart had been advising me not to talk about it.  SueLeeta wasn’t entirely correct, of course.  I was gaining levels in all my classes simultaneously.  That was the major source of my power, but that was unique to me.

“Can you get rid of the demon?” she asked, looking at me far less harshly than before.

“No,” I replied.  “If he gets too far away, I am placed under a great deal of pain.

“Well then,” she said, sitting back down, “That settles that question.  I’m guessing that’s why you are such a goody two shoes, as well.  Got to keep the demon at bay with acts of goodness or something.”

“No, I’d do that anyway,” I said.

“Saying that isn’t going to help you any,” she chuckled.  “You know, most historians believe that Grebthar had a demon, too.  They think he wasn’t doing everything out of the goodness of his heart, but rather to keep his demon at bay.”.

“Shart?” I questioned, but I hit a mental wall.  The asshole had shut himself off.

“What happens now?” I asked, watching SueLeeta.  She looked at me, deep in thought.

“I don’t know,” she sighed.  “First, I guess we go through the loot.  Then, I think I’m going to track where those Wargs were coming from.  Maybe we can keep them away from the castle now that the troll is gone.  I suppose we’ll eventually have to go to Falcon Crest and visit the great temple.  Someone there will certainly be able to sever the bond.”

“That’s bad, Jim!” thought Shart.  “You’ll lose all the powers I gave you.”

“Is what she is saying true?” I asked, considering.

“If you go to Falcon Crest, there will be a high-level cleric there.  They could probably manage to sever the bond between us,” stated Shart.  “That would be detrimental to your survival here, though.”

“You are planning on killing, not even killing, actually destroying me when we reach the Demon Door,” I replied. 

“Yes,” said Shart quietly, “I have reasons, but . . .”

Shart trailed off.  I remembered when we bonded.  He was very adamant that we stick close, and that we were stuck like this.  He hadn’t said that the bond couldn’t be broken, though.  He just changed the subject whenever it came up.

“A normal demon would be trying to dominate me.  You don’t.  Why?” I asked.

Shart was sitting on the J in my first name on my character sheet.  He sat very still, like a statue, for a long moment.  His tiny wings occasionally pulsed as he thought.  I almost gave up on receiving an answer, when he finally spoke.  “Most demons were banished down to the lower dimensions after the First War.  Most of them rebelled against the <ADMINISTRATORS>, but not all of us did.  Some of us thought that the system was working just fine the way it was.  If you get banished to a lower dimension, Ordinal is like heaven.  It's pure and nice and full of Mana.  The worst parts of Ordinal are better than the best parts of Hell.  I never left the Citadel.  That’s where the <ADMINISTRATORS> reside.  Every part of Ordinal is worse than any part of the Citadel.  If I were to dominate you, I’d have to feel more of it.  I’d have to feel more of this terrible place.”

I looked at Shart as he sat there flexing his wings.  Then, he continued, “And you’d hate it.  This place is terrible.  You are the only thing here I can tolerate.  If you break the bond, I’ll be able to eventually figure out a way to get through a Demon Door.  It's going to take forever to do it, and you’ll probably die.  I’d feel bad about that, too.”

“You are going to destroy me when I go through the Demon Door,” I said.

“Because I have to, not because I want to.  The Dark Overlord is planning on destroying Ordinal, the whole planet!  I’m a demon!  We are beings of chaos, but my kind of chaos requires a place for that to happen.  If Ordinal is destroyed, I don’t get chaos.  I get jack, quickly followed by shit,” replied Shart.

“Is he trying to replace the <Ad…>,” I started.  Even in my mind’s eye, that term was challenging.  As soon as I started projecting it, I could feel my mind buckling.

“No,” replied Shart.  “Look, I don’t know what he’s planning, but the big guys are too powerful.  Any one of them could destroy the Dark Overlord, if they suspected he was a threat to them.  There are a great number of them.  I’m worried about Ordinal.  That’s my planet.  The rest of it is all above my pay grade.”

Gonna steer clear of that.

“Well, I’m going to have to deal with SueLeeta,” I thought, examining her again.  She sat motionless in menu time. 

“You might have to kill her,” stated Shart.

“No, I’m going to have to talk to her,” I stated, not wanting to consider murder.  “Besides, she’s got the wire to the deadfall trap.  I disarmed it by cutting the wire, but, if she yanks on one of the ends, the trap will still work.  I think she grabbed it when she bent over to pet Cat.” 

Shart’s eyes went wide as he started scrambling around in my mindscape.  He noticed the amount of roof above us and whistled.  “You’d survive, but I think you’d be trapped.  Think she could take Badgelor?”

“She’s a Hunter specializing in killing beasts.  I’d give her good odds,” I replied.  “She’d almost certainly do a bunch of Damage.”

“She sure got you into a bad spot, Dum Dum,” stated Shart coolly.

“Well, I wasn’t really planning on fighting her,” I said, dropping out of menu time. 

I watched SueLeeta as her movements returned to normal.  I finally responded, “I encountered my demon right before I found Windfall.  I defeated him, and his power was reduced to almost nothing.  I don’t think he could dominate me, even if he wanted to.”

“Damn it, Jim, I’m a Hunter, not a Spiritual Doctor,” grumbled SueLeeta.  “I don’t even have enough Demon Lore to know if that’s accurate or possible.  I know powerful people can control their familiars, but demons?” 

“You are just going to have to trust me,” I said, staring deep into her eyes.

SueLeeta watched me for a very long moment.  I mentally prepared myself to evade her, but she finally nodded.  Gesturing toward the chest, she dropped the cord and walked toward it in the same motion.  “I guess I’ll have to.  Just be careful.  If you become dominated by him, I don’t know if anyone in Windfall can stop you.”

“Now,” thought Shart.  I ignored him and turned back to the chest. With the lock picked, the trap had become disabled. 

SueLeeta joined me a moment later, examining its contents. 

●                    You have discovered: Scroll (unknown)

●                    You have discovered: Lute (Scan level too low to determine properties)

●                    You have discovered: Ring of Light Detection (Uncommon)

●                    You have discovered: 223 gold, 102 silver, 9000 copper

●                    You have discovered: 6 gems (value 50 gold x 3, 25 gold x 3)

“Well, that’s a Ring of Light Detection,” I said, scanning its properties and frowning.

SueLeeta perked up before looking annoyed, “Did the demon tell you that?”

“No, I have a skill for identifying magical items,” I answered hotly. 

“Of course, how does it work,” she asked, picking up the ring and looking at it.   

I could sense that through the skill, too.  “It glows in the presence of light.”

“Seriously?” she asked, tossing the ring to me, “That has to be the least useful ability I’ve ever heard of.  That’s your pick.  I was hoping for a magical weapon.”

“I think I’m carrying all of his weapons,” I replied, holding out the Staff of Insect Control.

She nodded, “I’m still on the lookout for a magical bow.”

“I’ll get right on that,” I said, earning a sour look from SueLeeta.  She probably wondered if I could also make magical weapons.  I felt almost guilty that I could.   

“What about the rest?” she asked, changing the subject. 

“I don’t know what the lute does, but it is magical,” I answered.  SueLeeta grabbed it and threw it over her shoulder.  I shrugged.  I didn’t need a lyre, and it looked good on her.  She looked like some warrior bard of old.

I opened the scroll and read through it.  It was of human make, so it was easy to read.  I didn’t need to know all the magical symbology to understand how the spell worked.  It was a Spell of Friendship that would make your target much more disposed to your advances. 

“Sell it?” suggested SueLeeta.  I shrugged.  With my Mage class, I could work Fire Magic and Biological Aeromancy spells, but this was neither of those.  I threw it in my pouch.  We divided up the coins, making us both significantly richer.  I took two of the larger gems and one of the smaller.  SueLeeta figured the lute was worth more than the difference, and she was probably right.  I didn’t want to ask Shart to cast any spells on it right now, so its effects would remain a mystery for the time being.

Once the loot was dispersed, we both stood and considered our next course of action. 

“Can you claim the castle?” asked SueLeeta, keeping her voice clear of irony as she described the pile of rubble as a castle. 

“I don’t think so.  I need a place to claim.  What’s left out there doesn’t seem to be anything substantial enough,” I answered.  I’d already checked my menus and didn’t see anything.  Maybe, if I picked through the rubble...

Something tickled in the back of my mind, and I ascended the stairs.  SueLeeta followed me.  We both surveyed the area. 

“Have you checked the other buildings?” I asked, looking at another nearby pile.

“I did a cursory glance before heading down to the cellar,” replied SueLeeta, looking around more carefully.  Then she caught the same odor I had detected.

“There must be more trolls,” I stated, evaluating the area.  The wagon tracks next to the castle were a giveaway, but I’d initially believed them to be from goblins.  Now that I was appraising them more thoroughly, I saw that they were too large for goblins to pull, even with Warg help. 

“I think we are through the worst of it.  If I can trust you to get back to town, I’ll go scouting,” said the Hunter. 

“Do that, and when you are done nearby, I have a spot I’d like you to look at,” I stated gesturing towards a spot on my map. 

“That’s farther than I usually range, Jim,” replied SueLeeta her own internal map updating, “There is a sulfur flat up there, but I haven’t gone in as deep as you are suggesting,” she replied.

I told her what I was looking for and her eyes went wide.  She gathered up her pet and walked ahead towards the castle. 

As I stood there all alone, a cold wind blew through the castle yard, chilling me.  The events in the cellar had every opportunity to end badly. 

Suddenly, Badgelor latched onto my leg and began climbing.  Yawning, he looked at me and asked, “Did I miss anything?”

Chapter 40: Secrets Exposed

“Well, my secret it out,” I stated, as we walked back toward the castle.

“Good for you,” replied the badger.  “I told Shart you should have just told everyone to begin with.  No sense in hiding it from everyone.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Of course!  Anyway, it's super obvious.  You are always looking over your shoulder and stuff,” replied the badger.

“I thought I was hiding it pretty well,” I stated.

“From most people, probably.  They aren’t as observant as I am, though,” replied Badgelor.

“That’s not very impressive.  You know I have a demon,” I said.

“What demon? Aren’t you talking about you being impotent?” asked Badgelor.

“Why would you think that?” I asked aghast.

“Well, like half the women in town have been throwing themselves at you.  It’s non-stop, and you are always like, ‘No thank you.  I have a wife’,” explained Badgelor.  “I thought she was your excuse to prevent embarrassment or something.”

“No, everything works,” I growled.

“Well, sorry, but you seriously do not put off an ‘I like the ladies’ vibe,” replied the badger.

“Shart, tell him I’m not impotent,” I demanded.

“How the hell would Shart know?” asked Badgelor, raising his eyebrows. 

Shart chuckled before responding, “No one said you were impotent.  I just kind of thought you were chaste for some reason,” replied the demon.  “Seriously, that time Jarra the Healer came down in that shirt.  Remember, she’d accidentally spilled water on herself right before she got there?  It was pretty amazing. I don’t even like human girls, but those were nice.”

“You averted your eyes,” said Badgelor, staring directly at me. 

“Out of respect for her,” I yelled.  I hadn’t averted them quickly enough, and my wife would have killed me. 

“No one that is interested in ladies is that respectful,” said Badgelor.

“She was all kinds of bouncy,” added Shart, making some rather suggestive gestures. 

“You both suck,” I grumbled lamely and continued to the castle.  Shart was right, though.  Jarra had been very bouncy.  I swallowed.  I was walking on dangerous grounds.

SueLeeta had started followed the wagon tracks from the castle to the forest.  “I think they must have been carting off stone for some time,” she observed gesturing towards the numerous ruts in the earth.

“The trolls must be camped northwest of here,” I said, looking down the tracks. 

Unlike in the basements, the amount of actual topsoil here was several inches deep.  The tracks went out a way, making deep ruts in the earth.  Those ruts went all the way down to the hardened, enchanted soil.  They continued north through one of the many breaks in the wall and into the surrounding forest. 

“I’m going to investigate the castle,” I stated, as SueLeeta continued analyzing the tracks.  On a whim, I strummed the lute on her back.  She jerked away, then turned and frowned at me.

“Next time ask a lady, before you start fingering,” she grumbled, reaching over and handing me the lyre.  I strummed it ineptly a few times while concentrating on the castle.  After a long moment of nothing happening, except for my poor playing, I handed it back to her. 

“I was wondering if it did anything,” I said.  My Scan skill didn’t activate on the device, and I very much doubted it was a Lyre of Building anyway.  I handed it back, and she replaced it on her shoulder. 

SueLeeta nodded.  “It doesn’t look like much from here, but maybe you can find something.”

“Hopefully.  At the very least, I’d like to get an estimate of what it's going to take to repair it,” I replied.

She sighed, “I’m concerned that you are going to find a way into some secret area and find some genuine loot.”  She finished with a crooked smile that I hadn’t seen from her before. 

“Well, if I find a magical bow, it's all yours,” I replied.

SueLeeta continued preparing to leave, as I turned back to face the castle.  “I’ll meet you back in Windfall.  It might take me a few days.”

“In the meantime, I’ll steer clear of Jarra the Healer,” I said.

“Yeah, you better,” she replied, watching me.  When I gave her a curious look in response, she gripped her bow more tightly.  “After you get that pox removed, I’ll think about it. “

I knew SueLeeta was protective of Jarra, but this was a bit more than I had expected.  However, one glance into her stern eyes told me what she’d be willing to do to stop me.  Whatever the outcome of that, I doubted Jarra would be interested in me afterwards.  “I understand,” I said.

SueLeeta nodded and left, striking out into the forest where the tracks led.  I noticed Cat Twenty-Six was missing, but I could hear the shrill cry of a hawk above.  I looked up and just managed to catch its name. 

●                    Hawk One: SueLeeta’s Pet

She summoned a bird, poor thing.

I walked directly toward the remains of the castle.  Badgelor and Shart were on my shoulders.  By this point, I was so used to being three-headed that I hardly noticed when they were there.  Suddenly, my badger growled, his eyes narrowing.  As he jumped down, he expanded to his full size.  My sword was in my hand instantly, glowing red with flames.

“What?” I asked, searching the area.  Try as I might, I could not find any threats. 

“Charles,” growled the badger, as he tore off toward the castle.

Chapter 41: Dungeons and Ducks

Badgelor would have been the easiest creature in the world to track, I thought idly, as I continued jogging after him.  Each plodding step he took tore up massive furrows of dirt.  They flew behind him in his efforts to get more traction and speed.  Had there been any traps closer to the castle, I was quite sure he would have barreled through them.

“I’m sensing something,” I thought to Shart.  “It's similar to that cave by the Western Gate Fortress.”

“That’s a dungeon,” replied Shart.  “I’d wager this castle was sitting on one.”

Starting cities with dungeons in them was nothing new.  It would make sense to have a dungeon here for new players to cut their teeth on.  The one closer to the Western Gate was surprising, though.  I thought I had sensed it as being unusually dangerous. 

“Dungeons get tougher, if they haven’t been cleared recently.  Both of these dungeons are sitting on a century or more of disuse,” replied Shart, reading my mind.  He was becoming more helpful lately.  I wondered if our heightened connection via the mental ring had anything to do with it. 

I had been letting Badgelor lead, because he seemed to know where to go.  That destination was right over the rubble of the castle, after climbing up a ruined section of wall.  I hopped up onto a pillar and followed him, parkouring it with ease.  I still wasn’t quite used to that, but, at the moment, I didn’t have time to be thinking about it. 

Navigating the debris was an obstacle course.  Most of it was pretty unstable, so I was aiming for the small patches of moss and other plant life.  The greenery caused my Elven Steps perk to activate.  That meant that only one in three steps was on actual stonework, all of which seemed to buckle upon being touched.  Badgelor, by contrast, was falling into pits, sliding around, and otherwise getting wrecked by the stones.  I was growing increasingly concerned with every step he took.

“If you are torn up before you get there, you won’t be able to fight,” I yelled.  I wasn’t even sure there would be anything to fight.  None of my abilities had detected anything living nearby. 

“Don’t care!  I’ll kill Charles if it's the last thing I do,” yelled the badger.

All at once, he broke through a section of roof and vanished.  Looking around, I saw that we were near the middle of the ruined castle, a pile of rocks the size of a football field stretching around me in all directions.  Realizing he wasn’t coming back up, I hopped over to the hole he had fallen through and looked down. 

Badgelor was sniffing the ground and scratching at various things.  Thankfully, he seemed unharmed.  My Engineering skill kicked off, and I decided that this section was somewhat stable.  I dropped into the hole, landing next to Badgelor. The room I’d landed in was almost intact.  Only the ceiling and one of the walls showed any sort of real damage. Looking around, I noticed that the room had an odd blue shimmer to it.  My new Ring of Light Detection also started glowing more intently than the dim light of the room should have allowed. 

Suddenly, there was a loud kaboom.

My head snapped up, and I saw Badgelor shoulder checking a large, ostentatious door in a wall of the room.  As he struck, pieces of debris fell from above.  My Perception skill flared, as several new cracks appeared in the ceiling. 

“The room will collapse,” shouted Shart, who had moved directly underneath the hole in the ceiling.

“Badgelor, quit it!  Let me look at the door,” I called.  The badger looked at me for a moment, his eyes glowing red.  In the semi-darkness of the room, it was borderline terrifying.  I still started moving toward him. 

The second kaboom sounded, as Badgelor tried his luck again.  Badgelor apparently hated that door, because he kept running into it with maximum effort.  I walked over and checked the markings on the door.  As I carefully examined it, I saw a shimmering blue field had covered the now protected portal.  The field was badger proof at minimum, as none of Badgelor’s strikes achieved anything on the doorway.  Under the magical light, I could see that there was dust covered stonework in front of the dungeon door.  It had a large picture of a moon and an oversized duck that appeared to be on fire.

“Badgelor,” I called out, walking closer, “Let’s think about this.  We’ll figure out a way to get in.”  He glared at the door for a long moment, his eyes gradually losing their scarlet color.  Finally, he slumped down.

“What do we need to do?” he asked, sounding defeated. 

“We need a key,” said Shart, materializing back on my shoulder in a puff of acrid smoke.  He was no longer his usual intangible self.  The smell caught Badgelor’s notice far more effectively than my puny yell. 

“It's blocked magically,” growled Badgelor.  “That’s something Charles would do.”

“I'm sure lots of people would use a magical lock if they could,” I said, examining the field as it started to dissipate despite my proximity.  Now that it wasn’t being impacted upon, it became more difficult to see.  My glowing ring began to fade.  In low light, I realized that the ring’s usually level of illumination was just below whatever the normal amount of light in the room was.  Magical light seemed to interact with it differently, though.  As I pondered this, I noticed Shart intently examining the door.

“What are you doing?” I asked the little demon, as Badgelor pouted.

“Checking out the lock,” replied Shart, gesturing toward the door.  “It’s Mana based.”

“I can’t see anything but the door,” I replied, wondering what spell was required to see it.

“Use Mana Control,” advised Shart, as he continued looking.

“I can only see my Mana with that,” I said.

“You are absurdly close to leveling and just found a bunch of magical equipment that I know you haven’t properly attuned,” replied Shart, rolling his eyes as he glanced at me.  “Focus your Mana Control on the items in your possession.  Each new magical item you attune to should give you a slight bonus.”

Sighing, I focused on my own Mana.  That brought up the familiar web of Mana that flowed throughout my body.  My own Mana network still looked eerily like one of the Chinese chakra diagrams.  I found my own Mana Cores easily enough, but the rest of the world was still dark in contrast.

I was clutching the staff, so I held it up and started to restore the Mana I’d used from it.  Now that I was focusing on it, I could watch my Mana as it left my network and flowed through my hand into the staff.  When it hit the staff, the Mana seemed to tie itself into knots and bulge outward.  I slowed the flow of Mana and the bulging abated, causing my Mana network to now also include the staff. Groovy, dude.

I rapidly focused on my bracers, which took some work.  I figured out how to bind them to my Mana network.  I observed that they were causing a restriction to my hands, meaning my spells had been slightly less powerful than they should have been.  Now that they were attuned, the restriction seemed to clear up.  I did still notice spasms in my Mana network, as my personal Mana flowed through the magical equipment.  The Ring of Light Detection and my Dagger of Wounding were much easier to attune, once I understood the process. 

Drawing my Soldier’s Longsword, I went to attune it, too.  However, I found that it was already mostly attuned to me.  I was a Mage Knight with a non-magical weapon, so, while I could ‘attune’ it, the actual attunement was so weak that I could barely see it.  It was only possible because I’d chosen that weapon as a Mage Knight.  I tried the same thing with my armor but couldn’t find the connection points to attach it to my Mana network.  I guessed because the armor was entirely non-magical. 

Glancing over at my skill prompts, I grinned at the new Journeyman prompt.

●                    Mana Control has increased in rank to Journeyman.  You are eligible for a Mana Control perk.

I had been waiting for Mana Control to rank up.  It was the core skill of pretty much the entire magical skill tree, so doing anything magically seemed to use it.  As you hit Journeyman in a skill, you earned a skill perk.  Mana Control had three listed to choose from.

Reinforced Pathways made your Mana network stronger, making spells that affected you more difficult to dispel.  It had the secondary power of allowing you to use an additional magical item.  Strengthened Cores made your Mana Cores tougher.  Therefore, when you cast spells, they would do 20% more Damage, if you fed them from your core.  In practice, I hadn’t encountered any spells that didn’t use a Mana Core, so that seemed very useful.  Finally, there was Mana Flow, which gave you more precise control over how Mana flowed in and out of your person. 

“It's used mainly for precision work,” Shart informed me.  “If you are trying to cast spells in a very refined manner, like illusions, having a high degree of control over your Mana will make it much harder for someone to detect your spell.  It will also make it harder for someone to counterspell it, if they manage to find it.”

It sounded like Reinforced Pathways would be a safe bet for a Mage.  The extra Magical Item slot would be very useful.  I’d discovered that as you put on magical items, it caused your Mana Network to become disrupted.  I had a host of admittedly minor magical items, and even they were causing some minor spasms in my Mana network.  Since most magical items drew ambient power from that network, you had to space your items out somewhat. 

For example, if you tried to wear two pairs of magical pants, your Mana network would be so disrupted that neither item would work correctly.  Or at all.  I grabbed both my Dagger of Wounding and the Magical Staff awkwardly in the same hand.  I watched my Mana network feedback on itself, disrupting the Mana flow there so badly that I wouldn’t have been able to cast spells, even if I’d wanted to. 

I only had one ranged offensive spell.  Improving that didn’t seem useful in the short term.  The Mana Flow option had some good points, but I could already sneak around.  I didn’t really need to have an improved magical talent for it.  I selected Reinforced Pathways.

Nothing happened.  I didn’t personally have many magical items, just an amulet, a staff, two daggers, two rings, and two bracers, but there was a dungeon nearby.  Those were always full of magical gear.  I did play with the power for a moment and discovered I could manage the disruption around one item very easily.  I could now fight with a staff and dagger in one hand, if I wanted, for a truly unexpected combat style. 

When I looked back to the field, it was still as dim as ever.  I thought for a moment and looked back to my staff.  I could now see the magical rod glowing brightly with my converted Mana.  I found the field and put a few points of Mana into it. 

Shart frowned at me as I did so, but the field suddenly shimmered to full light.  I could clearly see five symbols I didn’t recognize.  They were worked into a very complicated looking pattern that could best be described as a circuit diagram.  As I watched, the pattern shifted mightily.  Shart blew out a noise of frustration.

“It only stays in pattern for about eighty seconds,” said the demon.  “I can’t affect it enough to keep it solid.”

“Can I do something to it?” I wondered, reaching out a magical hand to grab at the spell.  Shart smacked me upside the head. 

“This is connected to a Source, Dum Dum,” stated the demon.  “You’ll get a hell of a blast of feedback if you try to interact with it that way.  Besides, it's a Wizard’s lock.  You need to manipulate each rune with the correct kind of Mana.  This one is Expert level, at least.”

I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off by Badgelor.  He yelled, “Yolo” and leapt onto the door, claws first.  A brief flare of magical energy filled the room and partially blinded me.  Badgelor exploded off the door and went flying across the chamber, slamming into a pillar and sliding down. 

Rushing over to Badgelor, I checked his Health.  He was at just over half.  The door’s magical defenses had caused over 130 points of Damage in what appeared to be only a handful of seconds. 

“Clever,” stated Shart, “Nice feedback loop if you interact improperly with the symbols.  Odd, I would have expected him to be disintegrated.”

“I’m a tough bugger, ya wee boil,” grumbled Badgelor, getting back to his feet. 

“We can’t just overpower the door.  If we try, we’ll get killed,” I said to Badgelor, trying to talk sense into an animal that was way past reasoning with.

“You’d have to be an idiot to keep trying,” said Shart.  “I don’t care how incredibly durable you are.  This is eventually going to kill you.  You aren’t even making any progress.”

“How do we get in, then?” questioned Badgelor.  He looked utterly defeated as he sat there.

“We need a Wizard,” stated Shart, “Or someone who specializes in Wizard Locks and Temporal Magic.”

“Or the key,” I ventured.

Badgelor perked up.  “I will sniff around for the key.  We will find it and murder Charles.”

With that, Badgelor began sniffing around, eventually climbing out of the hole in the ceiling and vanishing off to explore the rest of the castle.

“Can we claim the castle with just this one intact room?” I asked Shart, looking around for a throne or perhaps a particularly important looking bookcase. 

“Not with just this,” stated the demon, still watching the pattern in the doorway.  “Don’t fret, Dum Dum.  You just need to build the cheapest kind of castle here and that will qualify.  There is already a massive amount of stone here. “

That made sense.  I brought up the building menu and found that there was an option for a simple keep that was within our means to build.  I wondered if it would be worthwhile to clean out the nearby debris and use this room as part of the new castle.

I became aware of Shart looking at the ground and talking to himself.  He was rambling incoherently about phoenixes.

“What’s going on?” I asked, glancing down at the large crest with the duck on it.  Shart had taken the time to wipe some debris away from it.  Cleaning it had exposed what looked like a moon. 

“Well, isn’t that special,” stated Shart, gesturing at the moon duck. 

“What’s going on?” I asked again.

“This place is equipped with a lunar lock keyed against a Phoenix Moon,” said Shart thoughtfully. 

“That duck thing is a phoenix?” I asked, looking down at the angry looking mutant. 

“It's a holy animal,” grumbled Shart, as he continued tracing lines in the inscription.  After a moment he said dryly, “A Phoenix Moon only occurs once a year.  Did you know Grebthar Day falls on the day of the Phoenix Moon?”

I looked down at the large full moon with a phoenix flying over it and recalled that the holiday would begin in less than two weeks. 

“It just opens whenever a Phoenix Moon occurs?” I asked, thinking that Badgelor and I could go exploring in a dungeon. 

“Yes, and it opens for anyone, even desperate goblins looking for magical weapons,” replied Shart.

“Oh, crap.”

Chapter 42: Goblin’s Plans

The goblin attacks now made sense.  If they got into an unused dungeon, they could find enough magical do-dads to assault Windfall.  At minimum, it would make the surviving goblins far more deadly in combat.  I wasn’t keen on fighting a bunch of goblins armed with magical swords. 

I explained my concerns to my companions after Badgelor returned some minutes later.

“Then, we hold here.  We can kill whatever comes, and then we can kill Charles,” stated Badgelor.

“That’s assuming that Charles is even down there,” I said to Badgelor. 

“That does seem time-consuming, but it will be worth it!  Best to stay here, hunt, and sun ourselves on the nearby rocks, until the dungeon opens up,” stated Badgelor confidently. 

“Or, we could go back to town, send someone to Narwal to find a Wizard, and bring the Wizard back here with us.  We could get into the castle faster that way,” I suggested.

Badgelor pondered my plan for a moment before nodding.  “I like the way you think.  No sense in lying around if there is killing Charles to do.  That’s my motto.”

That was not his motto.

I used my Engineering skill to see how structurally sound the room was when I noticed something peculiar on the ceiling.  The cracks I saw earlier ended in a circular pattern around the door.  I drew a dagger and scratched the ceiling.  My dagger stopped at the same endpoint as the cracks.

“Magically reinforced,” stated Shart, looking at it.  “It’s pretty powerful, too.  I’d wager it is probably tied to the Source.”

“Should have done that to the whole castle,” I said, thinking about the rubble outside.

“Hardly.  This room is a dungeon door.  You don’t want anything going in or out of here, but magically reinforcing stone is very magically expensive.  It’s more practical to rig up a barrier spell or the like for most structures,” said the demon.

I considered that for a moment.  It was possible that the goblins didn’t even know about the dungeon, but I didn’t consider that very likely.  I thought the much more likely scenario was that they knew about it but didn’t know where it was.  That meant that if they took the castle, they would have to search for it. 

We climbed back out of the hole.  By we, I meant me.  My passengers were of the opinion that it wasted energy to do something themselves that I could do for them.  Fortunately, the hole in the ceiling was only about ten feet up.  I was able to leap up and grab the edge, pulling myself and my lazy assholes over the lip. 

We spent a few moments scanning the grounds.  Badgelor and Shart looked for enemies, while I searched for a more elusive prey.  I needed a rock large enough and flat enough to cover the hole in the ceiling.  I found one quickly enough and half carried, half lifted it into place, sealing the hole tightly. 

“Is that really necessary?” asked Shart.

“If the goblins come, I don’t want them finding an easy entrance to that room. There are hundreds of possible places the dungeon entrance could be hidden in all this debris,” I said, gesturing to the collapsed pile of rubble.  “While we know where the door is, I’m wagering that the goblins do not.”

“Hurry up, I want to find a Wizard.  I wonder if Bashara is still in Narwal,” smiled Badgelor.  While his loyalty to me was unquestioned, you didn’t get between a badger and his Pillow. 

“Now back to Windfall.  We know the castle is clear right now, but we don’t know when the goblins will be back.  If we can get into the dungeon before the door opens naturally, I think we got this,” I said.

Badgelor growled and made a hurry up gesture with his claw.  Shart rolled his eyes, which was disturbing.  Shart’s eyes really rolled.

We left the castle grounds in a hurry.  I found a stick and the first obvious, but not too obvious, tree at the edge of the grounds.  I quickly wrote a note in Woodsman code.  In this case, that just involved tying four knots into a stick with some nearby vines.  SueLeeta would understand it to mean that I went back to Windfall, and the castle was safe when I left. I glossed over the fact that I somehow knew how Woodsman code worked because, well, Ordinal. 

Since I had time, I followed the road.  There were traps everywhere on the decayed, overgrown, old road.  What should have taken only three hours was going to nearly twice as long.  I slowly disarmed everything I could find along the way.  My Trapfinding skill improved to Initiate, which made finding the goblin traps easier.  It also helped that they were old as hell and poorly maintained.

About half an hour in, Badgelor found an easier method. 

“Charging,” cried the badger as he charged forth at his maximum size.  Doing this triggered nearly every trap he found.  The traps, on the other hand, weren’t doing all that much to Badgelor.  I saw several ropes snap as they attempted to lift his one-ton body or pits he more or less waddled over. 

We finally hit the barrier at the three-and-a-half-hour mark.  Crossing into safe space was amazing, not only because of the lack of goblin threats, but also because now all the traps were gone.  Badgelor’s rampage had left the road in an odd state, as hundreds of triggered traps left downed trees and small potholes all over the road.  Ultimately, none of them were significant navigation hazards, so I just ignored them.  

The road to the castle circled around Ironpass Mine, or, more accurately, the hill that the mine was built into.  We continued following it into town, running past the Forestry Hut that OttoSherman both lived and worked out of.  I waved at him and his buxom companion.  Both were busy chopping wood. 

“Isn’t that HankAlvin’s wife?” I asked, considering the woman.  “I didn’t realize she knew how to do that.”

“I’m sure OttoSherman has taught her how to handle wood,” replied Badgelor.  I shrugged.

I walked into that one. I waved at HankAlvin as we strolled by, but the gimp suit prevented him from waving back. 

As the sun was setting, we crossed the final open fields leading to the Eastern Gate of Windfall.  It had taken hours to get to the castle and even longer to get back.  Though I hadn’t been able to claim the castle, I felt it had ultimately been a good day. 

The Masons were still doing a patch job on the northern side of the city wall, but the wall was starting to look rather good.  From my vantage point, I could see just over the wall into the town.  Everyone was going about their business.  Then, I saw that Sir Dalton’s wards were walking through town, and nearly everyone was forming up into what looked like a massive musical number.

I noped right out of that.  As I had no pressing concerns, I decided to go to the Western Gate Fortress and wait for Fenris.  The barracks’ beds were at least as nice as the cot in my office.

Plus, I didn’t have much of a singing voice. 

Chapter 43: Western Gate Fortress

I woke up and stretched without the usual popping sounds I got if I slept in my office.  I really needed to get a house.  I considered that for a moment as I stood up and dressed myself.  The guards were also getting ready.  The notion of sleeping with five men in the same room as me would have been unusual to me back on Earth.  Here, I just took it in stride.

At least they didn’t have to put up with me snoring as that particular problem seems to have ended when I moved over to my new body.  I smiled, remembering all the times my wife complained about that.  It took me a few extra minutes to get ready, but, unlike the guards, I really didn’t have any assigned duties here. 

Grabbing a helping of Warg porridge, I daintily ate a bite.

●                    You have resisted a Poison check.  You are Initiate at Resist Poison.  You have resisted diarrhea, heartburn, acid reflux, unusual flatulence, oddly colored stool, impotence, cancer, brain tumors, random seizures...

They ate this every day.

I’d offered to bring in better food from Windfall, but I had been turned down flat. Warg meat stored extremely well, and I had to admit that the Warg sauce was tasty.  I wolfed down the bowl and realized I was the last to leave the small cafeteria.  It was the very place that had served as the setting for my most disappointing moment on Ordinal.  Most clinically depressing moment of my life. 

Grumbling, I walked to the wash area.  The last man finished eating had to do the dishes, and I’d been here enough times that the majesty of my office had worn off.  If I finished last, I had to clean up, just like anyone else.  I finished quickly, stacking the bowls neatly on the drying rack.  After all, I was an Initiate in the Dishboy skill.  Ordinal literally had a skill for literally everything.  I just hoped Dishboy would be as useful as Hiking, which was the single greatest ability I possessed.

“Stop bitching about Hiking,” stated Shart over my shoulder.  He, of course, had not participated in the cleaning but still liked to critique my work. 

I ground my teeth and left the small kitchen, planning to go down to the Warg kennels.  I nodded at several guards as I passed.  In some places, official guards saluted.  It would be typical of mercenary bands or the more regulated town militias.  The elite garrison at the Western Gate Fortress did not.  They tended to wave, sit on the wall, play cards, and occasionally allow people into the valley.

If Fenris was here, they would at least put on a good show of behaving.  They were more lax with me, which was different than the town militia.  The militia generally treated both Fenris and I with about the same level of respect.  I hadn’t actually fought with any of the guards at the Fortress.  Most of the initial few stationed here had moved back to the town.  As I looked around, I realized that none of the men currently here were from my initial Noobs. 

Badgelor was sunning himself next to the stairs leading to the courtyard.

“Are we just going to Narwal to find a Wizard or waiting for Fenris?” asked the badger.  “Because if you’d left when any decent person would have, we would almost be there by now.”

“Waiting,” I said, scooping him up to his minor protests.  The badger quickly righted himself on my shoulder.  He wouldn’t have wanted to walk anyway, and I wanted him with me for this.  Opening the door to the kennel, I found the cage where BruMorris was still tied up.

“They never untied him,” gasped Shart, who then began laughing maniacally.  Next to the hogtied, bound, ensnared, and totally tied up man was the set of manacles that were standard issue in every cell here in the kennel.  All they needed to do was attach those to his wrist and untie the rest of the ropes.  I hadn’t ordered the guards to do that though.  Oopsie doopsie.

“Wow, I totally didn’t check on that.  It's been, what, a week?  I figured they would untie him after he got put in the cage,” I said aghast.  I knew he was an Assassin and all, but there were practical limits to how long someone should be tied up like that.

BruMorris was a broken man.  I meant that literally.  He now had the broken condition from his long excessive binding.  He was an Assassin who killed people for money, but I kind of felt like a bit of a monster here.  A bit.  He raised his head slowly, a look of absolute horror overcoming his features when he saw me.  His throat made a hideous, high-pitched cracking noise as he gasped for air before croaking out, “I’ll tell you anything! Please, just untie me.”

His voice broke at the end, and he started coughing. 

It took every bit of self-control I had to keep my face in check, but I managed it.  He had said something in the woods that I’d been puzzling over since that day.  I hadn’t really had the time to interrogate him over it before I left the fortress, what with my traps triggering and the dead grandma.  Now, I did have time, and I had him at my mercy.  A little part of me was enraptured. 

“You said someone told you about me.  They told you to kill me.” I said coldly.  “Who was that?”

He continued gagging and coughing.  I waited patiently, until he began to spit out blood.  Then, I tried Lore again. 

●                    BruMorris: 18 Assassin

●                    HP: 14/50

●                    Stamina: 1/55

●                    Mana: 1/5

●                    Condition: Starvation, BruMorris has not had any food in 7 days, max HP/Stamina/Mana reduces by 50%

●                    Condition: Dehydration: BruMorris has not had anything to drink in 2 days, max HP/Stamina/Mana reduces by 50%

●                    Condition: Illness, Rot Lung, Victim will suffer from a bout of coughing lasting 3-7 minutes, if untreated for more than 3 days, will permanently reduce Endurance by 1, HP/Stamina by 10 points

●                    Condition: Broken, target automatically fails all Intimidation, Persuasion, Negotiation checks

Well, I had succeeded in my Torture skill check, it appeared.  If someone didn’t help him, he was going to die soon.  Past me, the person I’d been before killing humans and other sentient creatures, would have been much more upset about the current situation.  Present me, as it stood, was mainly fixated on the practical concern of needing him to talk.  I needed to learn who was trying to kill me. 

Frankly, I wondered where he’d gotten the water.  I casually strolled around the room, finding a basin in the corner.  There was a small amount of water still in it.  He’d just been too weak to get to it for the past couple of days.  I also considered that he might be trying to trick me, just to get out of the cage.  After my Lore inspection, he’d have to be quite a bit more skilled than I gave him credit for to pull that off. 

I opened the cage with the nearby key and started undoing the knots.  While I half-expected the man to try to shiv me or something, I noticed that his hand was still a ruin from my earlier treatment of him.  He was covered from top to bottom in bruises.  After a full minute of cutting the ropes, I pulled the last one off. 

“Badgelor, go get something to eat for this guy.  I’ll see about watering him,” I ordered.  I was going to have to use some healroot on him, too.  I was also going to have words with the garrison commander. 

Badgelor was about to protest, when BruMorris coughed up more bright pink blood, “Righty-O then,” he said, scurrying out.

“Shart, is he faking?” I asked, just to be as thorough as possible.  Shart was too busy laughing to say much, but I got the gist of it. 

A week.

The men had followed my orders, but I hadn’t been smart enough to give good ones.  I had left this man ridiculously tied up for a week.  I felt terrible for the oversight, not for what actually happened.  BruMorris was a piece of shit who tried to kill me.  Then, I reshackled him to the wall, because I’m not stupid. 

Shart finally stopped laughing long enough to look at me,” Wait, are you upset because you left him tied up?”

“No,” I replied, pouring a mouthful of water down BruMorris’ throat.  “I’m upset that he could have died without telling me what I needed to know.”

“Ooh, yup, it's funny again, Dum Dum,” grinned Shart.  He exploded into another fit of laughter about my failure, his favorite thing in the world to mock me for. 

Glancing at BruMorris’ cooldowns, I saw he would be out of it for at least the next twenty minutes.  As much as I enjoyed hearing a man cough explosively until he convulsed, I didn’t need to be there for it.  He wasn’t going anywhere.

Grumbling to myself, I walked into the courtyard.  The guards were opening the smaller door in the gate to allow someone entry.  Fenris should have been close, but I wouldn’t have expected him for a little while longer. 

The massive figure of a man in the doorway led to the realization that it was Sir Dalton.  He was leading a rather nice-looking horse as he walked into the doorway, stopping to talk to my guard.  Because he was Sir Dalton, I could hear him from halfway across the courtyard.

“I am a personal friend of your mayor, and you will allow me entry,” he stated boldly.  He had been smart enough to wait until after they had opened the doorway in the gate before announcing that.  I continued walking toward him when I heard a second voice.

“He means he’s a friend of Mayor Jim,” the second voice explained in an almost sorrowful tone.  “How is the good mayor?”  Bashara was riding Sir Dalton’s horse and was giving the guard a look of someone who was both consoling and helpful. 

“I'm fine,” I stated as I neared. 

Sir Dalton spotted me and actually smiled.  “Hah, I should have known you’d be out here making sure your borders were secure.”

“Yes, I am waiting on Fenris to arrive,” I stated, clasping his wrist and shaking.  You seem chipper.”

“Sorry,” replied Sir Dalton, lowering his voice, “Lady Bashara has been filling my ears with tales of Assassins and other ne'er-do-wells, ever since I took her to my poor estate.  She had me convinced we’d be attacked on the road.  That’s why I put her on my horse, so I might better protect her.”

Bashara looked down at me like some sort of Empress for a brief moment, before concern shot through her expression.  “Oh, thank goodness,’ she gasped, “I heard tales of violent Assassins about.  I was dreadfully afraid they might have gotten you.”

“No, I am fine,” I replied, glad that she was concerned for my health.

She climbed down from her horse with some alacrity, looking about.  “Is Badgelor safe, as well?”

“Oh, yes.  He is in the kitchen getting some food for our guest,” I stated.  Bashara began walking toward me.  She was attempting the refined walk of a lady, a slow smile forming on her lips.  The delay allowed Sir Dalton to process what I’d said.  After the little gerbil had done it's run, Sir Dalton frowned.

“Guest?” he inquired.

“Yes, our guest.  One of those Assassins did try to kill me shortly after our caravan left Narwal,” I replied.  Sir Dalton’s eyes went wide, but not as wide as Bashara’s.  She stopped dead and looked shocked. 

“You were attacked by an Assassin?” she asked slowly.  “An Assassin attacked you but didn’t kill you?”

“Do I look dead?” I responded.  “He managed to take most of my weapons off, but I took care of him,” I replied boastfully.

“That is quite a feat,” stated Sir Dalton.  He was now looking at me far less dismissively.  “I assume you have a witness?”

“I have better than that.  I have the very Assassin who tried to kill me.  He is being held in a cell over yonder,” I stated, gesturing toward the kennel.  Sir Dalton stopped walking.  He looked slightly impressed as he glanced back at me critically. 

“Well, I would have killed him should he have attacked me,” stated Sir Dalton boldly.  The proclamation broke Bashara out of her shock and straight into an eye-roll. 

“As would almost anyone.  Assassins are very simple to kill and all,” stated Bashara dryly.  “I find it interesting that you discovered the Assassin before he was able to attempt to assassinate you.  How did you figure him out?”

I glanced at her considering.  The Assassinate ability was what caused the magical barrier to form, keeping the two of us isolated from everyone else.  I considered diminishing my accomplishment somewhat, but I was still feeling boastful, especially with Sir Dalton around.  “Oh no, he was able to use his ability.  I just outfought him during the attempt.”

“With no weapons?” she asked after a moment, flabbergasted.

“I did take a lot of damage,” I shrugged, watching Sir Dalton squirm slightly.  He was the kind of man that treated others as equals, while still considering himself far superior.  The fact that I’d survived the assassination attempt, let alone that I’d bested the Assassin, was twisting in his craw.  I grinned for a moment but then realized what I was doing was silly.  I noticed Bashara was almost half-way to the kennel.

“Lady Bashara,” I said, remembering her title, “Please wait.  The man is very ill, and I need to have him properly treated before someone else talks to him.”

For the barest of moments, I thought I saw an expression of pure rage on Bashara’s face.  I rapidly remembered that she was a Wizard for hire.  Every bit of role playing I’d ever done set up quite a rivalry between Wizards and those that would strike them from the shadows. 

“Pillow!” screamed Badgelor.  He dropped the handful of dry breadcakes he was carrying and dove on top of Bashara.  She didn’t even have time to react before Badgelor was desperately trying to curl up in her lap. 

“Great, Badgelor’s here,” she smiled, rubbing her hands down the badger’s back.  He wasn’t typically much into pets, but he loved that woman for some reason.  Badgers couldn’t purr, at least they couldn’t on Ordinal.  Badgelor’s happy noise was like a low, flowing growl, as Bashara continued to rub her fingers up and down the badger.

Sir Dalton seemed poised to ask Badgelor to move, but, when Bashara started petting the badger, he relented, “If it would not be too much trouble to ask…”

I caught his meaning.  “Of course, let me get you some wine.” Showing Sir Dalton to the garrison door, I prepared to lead him into the small waiting room. It was almost right off the stairs and could comfortably hold three people.  The room conveniently had a bottle of wine for greeting guests.

“Lady Bashara, would you please join us?” I asked in my best proper accent.  She had managed to stand up while holding Badgelor, still in his smallest, most adorable size.  Bashara again glanced at the kennel, then at me.  She smiled a winsome smile.

“Of course.  One second, I have to put my favorite badger down,” she exclaimed and scratched him behind the ears once more.  Badgelor hurriedly grabbed up the bread he had taken from the kitchen and rushed toward the kennel. 

As Bashara walked past me, I gave her a raised eyebrow.

“I promised him he could sit back on my lap once he had completed his task from you.  I am parched.  Let’s get that wine.”

“He really seems fixated on you.”

“I know,” replied Bashara who led me up the steps.

Chapter 44: Bashara’s Uneventful Visit

“You killed him,” I screamed at my companion.

“He looked at me wrong,” growled Badgelor, as we surveyed the ruined body of the Assassin.  I’d been alerted to the problem as soon as I drank a toast to Bashara.  That was when I’d received a level up prompt at the Assassin’s death. 

●                    Level Up, Beast Master.

●                    You have gained one perk.

●                    You may now select a Path.  Please review your unlocks.

●                    Your Hit Point total is increased by 10.  Your Stamina is increased by 10.

●                    Your Hit Points have increased, your maximum Hit Points are now 670

●                    Your Stamina has increased, your maximum Stamina is now 550

●                    Your Mana remains at 220

I glared at my companion, but, deep down, I could hardly blame him.  Even in BruMorris’ weakened condition, the more I thought about him, the more I hated him.  Even as I was drinking the wine, I was considering just strangling the fool in his cell. 

The cause of the problem was the Improved Companion Bond perk.  I was sure of it.  Badgelor had probably caught a whiff of my anger toward the Assassin, and that led him to tear the man apart.  I hadn’t realized my emotions could run down the bond, but it kind of made sense.  I could somewhat sense what Badgelor was doing, and, if my bond with Shart was any indicator, the badger was getting quite a bit of feedback from my emotions. 

Sir Dalton was sneering down at the corpse.  “Slain by someone’s animal companion.  How very droll.”

Bashara was wiping Badgelor down with a wet cloth, but she paused to glance up at Sir Dalton.  “He is a mighty war badger.  It's not his fault that he was overcome with anger toward the man that tried to kill his companion.”

Badgelor seemed mollified by this, and he relaxed into Bashara’s gentle touch.  I blew out a breath and examined the corpse.  It had been torn in half, and the skull was crushed.  I modified my earlier assessment.  Badgelor was angry with the Assassin.  That, combined with my own anger that the badger was surely sensing, had caused a predictable result.

“Are you sure this emaciated man was a skilled Assassin?” asked Sir Dalton, looking at a detached arm.  “He appears to have been quite scrawny.”

I didn’t want to admit that I’d starved the man for a week, so I said nothing.  Sir Dalton continued examining the puny corpse pieces, and he perked up quickly.  By all appearances, I’d defeated a very weak Assassin, and that wasn’t very impressive at all.  Pretty soon, the Knight was holding back a smile.  He stood and walked over to me.

“Don’t fear, Jim.  I’m sure he was quite a threat.  If you’ll excuse me, I need some fresh air,” he said, walking up the stairs.  I could hear his chuckling echo in the stone stairwell.  Bashara looked at the corpse one last time.  Then, she looked at me, scooped Badgelor up, and carried him out of the room like a small dog.  Within moments, I was standing all alone in the cell with a mutilated corpse. 

“That asshole is going to tell everyone that the Assassin was a weakling,” stated Shart, bunching up his little fists on my shoulder.

“So,” I replied, trying to figure out what to do with the body.  For once, it would have been handy to have Wargs around.  “Better that than to tell everyone Windfall’s mayor starved a prisoner to the brink of death.”

“It's MY job to mock you, and now he’s doing it,” pouted Shart.

“Oh, you’re just jealous,” I replied, gathering up the limbs and tossing them into a single pile.  They looked like pounded hamburger.  If you’d told me last month that I’d be casually tossing around body parts, I’d have called you a liar.

Shart examined the corpse now that it was more collected before throwing up his arms.  “It’s no good.  I can’t cast any Necromantic spells, and you aren’t favored by any gods.  Good luck finding out what he knew.”

“You can do that?” I asked, ladling out some water onto one of my hands.  There was a troubling mix of red blood and green bile that needed to be cleaned off. I looked at the body with my Mana Sight.  As I was unwilling to put any of my own Mana into it, the corpse was still pretty dark.  Only tiny fluctuations of power were visible in his magical cores. 

“Skull is smashed,” I stated, gesturing at it with my chin.  The brain wasn’t really a magical core, but quite a bit of your body’s magical wiring passed through there.  The entire system was disrupted in this particular body.

“Well, shit,” grumbled Shart, as he waved his hands in front of him and looked at the body again.  “Damn, he must have had an Assassin talent to keep him from giving up information in death.”

“I just figured Badgelor liquefied his brain,” I replied, checking my hands.  They would have to do for now.  I’d clean them again when I got to the courtyard.

Shart examined the body again and swore under his breath.  “Stupid magical vision.”

“Shart, what is a Path?” I asked, checking my new level up power. 

“Hit level 15, didn’t you?” grinned the demon.  “That’s how you elevate your class to the next rank.”

“Classes have ranks too?” I groaned, while I examined the new options.  Beast Master seemed to break off into several directions that the class could progress in.  There was Monster Trainer, which would allow me to have multiple companions, Beast Lord, which would allow me to improve my companion to new heights, and, finally, Beast Kin, which would allow me to merge with my companion.

I immediately discounted Beast Kin.  I already had one unwelcome visitor in my head, and it was too many. 

Of the other two Paths, I still had the insurmountable issue of Badgelor.  If I brought in another companion, he was going to feel betrayed.  I imagined he would be sort of like an only, abused child with trust issues that suddenly found out he had siblings.  He would kill me.  The alternative was giving Badgelor more power.  That would make my life more challenging. 

Sadly, I really only had one choice.  I didn’t want to bring any more hangers on into my life, so I selected Beast Lord.  Instead of new class options, I got a prompt highlighting the conditions required for me to become a Beast Lord. 

●                    Defeat an enemy of at least level 16 (completed)

●                    Engage a Boss tier enemy (completed)

●                    Achieve of Bond level of Friendship (Current Status: Associate)

“What happens if I don’t advance on my Path?” I asked.

“You don’t get any of the Path abilities,” said Shart.  “Which would be kind of pointless.  Oh, you got Beast Master up to 15, didn’t you?”

“Yup,” I replied.

“So, your only real option is to power up Badgelor more than he currently is,” said Shart.

“Pretty much,” I replied, considering my options with the violently insane little creature.

“No real penalties then,” stated Shart.  “Most people never fully complete their Path anyway.”  We sat in silence for a moment, wondering what a fully powered up Badgelor might look like.  I shivered involuntarily. 

“Did you know my bond level with Badgelor is Associate?” I asked casually.

“Higher than I figured,” replied Shart with a nod.  “I didn’t realize he liked you that much.”

I started up the stairs, but Shart remained hovering in the cell for a moment.  Then, he poofed out of existence.  I didn’t know where he was going.  I had never been able to track him like that which I’m sure was his intent. 

By the time I got upstairs, Fenris had returned with the caravan and even more refugees.  I counted at least thirty more people who were ready, willing, and able to work in Windfall.  Two of the three wagons were empty, but the third was laden with goods.  His special trip looked to be successful.  Fenris was engaged in a good-natured conversation with Sir Dalton, clearly avoiding Bashara.  She had sat Badgelor down on a bench and was busy tidying both herself and my badger.

Nodding to Fenris, I walked over to properly greet him. 

“While I’ve never seen such a scrawny looking ‘Assassin’ before, it was good that Jim was able to actually defeat something,” continued Sir Dalton.  Fenris nodded solemnly at him.  “I would have slain the man outright, but, alas, Jim was forced to deal with it on his own merits.  I understand that Jim even lost his sword.”

“It was tragic, Fenris,” I stated, entering the circle of conversation.  Sir Dalton quit speaking and slammed his meaty palm into my back in a friendly gesture.  Of course, he did it hard enough to send me sprawling, had I not been expecting it.  I simply took the blow without complaint.  I thought I saw the barest sign of annoyance from Sir Dalton, as he moved away to gather his things.

“I’ve already heard the story from the men,” stated Fenris, considering what had been said.  “I was under the impression that the Assassin was under guard in the former kennel.”

“He’s dead now.  I sent Badgelor down to drop him some food, and one thing led to another,” I replied gruffly.

“What is it with this place?  Every time I come here, someone else is dead,” Fenris said before shrugging.  “He was an assassin.  I’m sure Badgelor had a good reason.  I’m honestly surprised you let him live after he attacked you.  Assassins almost never give up any information.”

I nodded.  BruMorris certainly wasn’t ever going to say anything now. 

“Let’s get back to Windfall,” I suggested, taking stock.  The caravan used the Western Gate Fortress as a rest area before making the final leg of the journey.  Everyone was just about ready to leave.  The people had been given water, and the wagons were being checked.  As soon as the carts were deemed safe, the caravan would continue.  I observed Sir Dalton and Bashara talking by the gate, so I walked over.

“No, I insist you borrow my horse,” stated Sir Dalton.  He thrust the reigns back into Bashara’s hand. 

She paused for a moment, but then relented, “If you insist.”

“Of course!  A dainty, defenseless lass such as yourself shouldn’t be traveling the world without a steed.  Why, you could be attacked,” stated Sir Dalton.  Lady Bashara was a powerful enough Wizard that I’d be more afraid for the bandit that attacked her.  Sir Dalton was like that, though.

Bashara had just gotten into the saddle when I cleared my throat.  She looked down almost imperiously for a moment, before switching to the look of an innocent girl.  “Jim, I’m so sorry!  I just came here to check on someone.  Now, I realize I need to go somewhere else.”

“Alright, I just came to tell you about the castle,” I said, as she began to turn the horse.  That got her stopped quickly.

“A castle, you say?” she replied, trying to feign disinterest.  I’d heard that speech pattern enough times with my wife to know it when I heard it.

●                    Sense Motive: Initiate: Pass

“There seems to be a dungeon door, but it's locked.  I was curious to see if a Wizard could open it for me,” I explained, as she turned the horse back to face me, “but if you are busy, I think the arcane lock is going to expire soon enough anyway.”

“An arcane lock,” she muttered, watching me carefully.  “How soon?”

“I’ve been told it will open naturally on Grebthar Day,” I answered casually.

Bashara’s eyes flashed wide, despite every bit of self-control she possessed.  It lasted for just a moment, before she was back to her pretend indifference.  She continued staring down at me. “There is a dungeon at the castle?”

“Yes, but you are busy,” I replied, making as if to turn around. 

“Well, I’m not that busy,” she stated, guiding the horse closer to me.  “I suppose I could always find time for a dungeon.”

“You can accompany us back to town, if you are interested,” I said, as the caravan began to move. “I believe we are leaving now.”

The entire trip back to Windfall was spent with Bashara peppering me with questions about the dungeon.  Sadly, I didn’t have very much information to share with her.  She would occasionally ride ahead and open a map or document that I’d look at as we passed.  The questioning was so serious that, after the first hour, I regretted bringing her.  Even the normally polite, though pompous, Sir Dalton found somewhere else to be.  Fenris was chatting with some of the refugees, trying to keep their minds occupied.  The one thing those people didn’t need was Sir Dalton explaining how great he was. 

By the time we crossed the gate into Windfall, I had devised a plan.  I feigned a quest and ducked into an alleyway, then used my Shadow Walker perk to Shadowmeld and hide.  The refugees were instantly targeted by EstherSasha and some of the other locals.  They would help get the new arrivals settled.  By now, we had a process.  Those refugees would go from homeless wanderers to productive citizens almost overnight.  Bashara was looking around for something, most likely me.  As she did so, she took in the scope of the town.  I thought I saw her eyes narrow, for the briefest of moments.  It had to have been a trick of the light.  She settled into a more contemplative look.

●                    Perception check: Initiate: Pass

“She seemed interested,” stated Shart, rematerializing onto my shoulder.  We crept through the darkness of the alleys of Windfall.  Mind you, they weren’t very dark, but I was up to Initiate Stealth.  It was dark enough for me to hide in shadows.  Bashara continued into the city along the main road.  I considered looking out for her but decided there was no need.  If she was as well-traveled as she claimed, I doubted my little town was going to impress her much. 

“Shit, I left Badgelor,” I said, turning back to the lead cart where the badger was sunning himself.  As he stretched, Bashara, passing on horseback, stopped a moment to rub his tummy.  The badger’s back leg twitched, and he scrunched into her more fully.  Then, she vanished down the road. 

“He’s lost to us.  It’s just like a buddy to completely forget you when a woman is involved,” I grumbled.  With Bashara, the refugees, and everyone else infatuated with him, I’d have to steal Badgelor in order to get him back.  I contemplated that for a moment, but he was safe enough in town.  It wasn’t like he was defenseless and finding him through our bond was a trivial matter.

“Badgelor is not my buddy,” grumbled Shart, before muttering something else that I couldn’t make out.

The implication sure sounded an awful lot like I was Shart’s buddy, but I didn’t want to say anything.  Instead, I marched the two of us to the town square, and we crept into my office unannounced.  I began dropping equipment and pieces of armor in rapid succession. 

“Hey, Mar isn’t here,” I said, shocked by his absence.  He usually sat right outside my office all day, every day.  It was nearly creepy.  I knew it was his job, but I was his boss.  I wasn’t here very often, so he could have snuck out at any time.  Normally, he didn’t.  When I did paperwork, I usually did it elsewhere, just to get out of the office.  Mar did paperwork in the office.  He positively loved it here. 

“What do you intend to do about it?” asked Shart, looking around for new prank ideas for Mar. 

“I think I will take a nap.  After all, it's not often that I get any time to myself,” I answered.  I leaned back in my somewhat comfortable chair. I had to figure out what to do about Badgelor and that Assassin, assuming I should do anything at all.  The Assassin had tried to kill me, but he was a prisoner.  Theoretically, Windfall’s prisoners should have a measure of safety granted to them while in custody.  No one seemed to mind, but I don’t want to be the place with the unexplained prison deaths. 

Just as I was getting relaxed, I got a quest prompt.  

●                    Help Mar: Quest.  Hey, Mr Mayor, when you are done with your hike in the woods, I urgently require your help.

“Saucy one, isn’t he,” stated Shart, as he hopped off my coat rack.  Technically, it was Shart’s coat rack.  It had just appeared one day, which meant the little salvager had taken it from somewhere.  Given its condition, it was probably abandoned in one of the deserted buildings. 

“Wow, that was quick,” I said, putting my armor back on. 

Shart chuckled as the quest marker popped up in my view, and I headed out to find my clerk.  Mar tended to be horribly predictable, so I was not at all surprised to be led to the inn.  What was more surprising was his table companion, a woman with a truly breathtaking backside. 

“Sir,” stated Mar, looking visibly relieved as I approached.  At least, I think he did.  I was having an issue getting my eyes to focus when his table companion turned to face me.

For a moment, I was confused.  The woman before me frowned ever so slightly, before she turned on her bewitching smile.  I was suddenly looking at the most beautiful woman in the world.  How had I not noticed this when I was walking in?  Bashara was positively radiant.  She reminded me of my wife on our wedding day.  It was an expression full of love and promise. 

●                    You have partially resisted a Mental attack check: You are an Amateur at Mental Resistance.

“Mayor Jim!” she grinned, standing up and straightening her dress.  “This place is such a delightful little town.  I was just talking to all your friendly townsfolk.  I thought I was going to be drinking swill out of a tin cup, not this fabulous inn.  It might be nicer than any in Narwal!”

“Bashara,” I replied, finding it difficult to speak for a moment.  My mouth had become insanely parched.  “I’m glad you like it.”  Windfall was just a little podunk shithole.  She was being very nice about this.

●                    You have partially resisted a Mental attack check: You are an Amateur at Mental Resistance.

Bashara grinned, showing off her sparkling white teeth.  She tried to walk over to me, but the inn was too crowded.  Instead, she gestured to the table she was sharing with Mar.  I was mesmerized by her flawless, unblemished skin.  As she began to speak, I watched her run her perfect pink tongue across her ruby red lips.  “I assume you’ll want to take me to the castle right away, but I was hoping I might invite you upstairs to show you my room.”

“Ahem,” came a voice from behind me.  I turned to see Jarra the Healer staring at me intently. “I asked you, ‘who might this be?’”

That seemed like an odd place to start a conversation.  Poor, poor Jarra.  She was merely plain, while Bashara was the perfect specimen of womanhood.  The Wizard’s soft, supple curves danced beneath her traveling dress.  Her skin was so smooth.  I could just imagine what it would feel like to slide my hand - 

●                    You have partially resisted a Mental attack check: You are an Amateur at Mental Resistance.

“Jim,” came the healer’s voice again, and I wrenched my gaze from Bashara to Jarra.  I had no idea what I was being asked.  “Of course,” I answered.  “Whatever you think is best.”

That never worked with my wife, and it did not work here.  I might as well have told the healer to calm down. 

Jarra looked upset.  By upset, I meant absolutely livid.    She began speaking in short, clipped sentences.  “Jim, please introduce me to your new friend.  Then, perhaps you would care to dine with me.  I have been making potions all day in preparation for you to claim the castle and am quite famished.”

Bashara sized up Jarra and smirked.  Mar wisely rushed out before the fire started.  I was left between Jarra the Healer and Bashara. 

“You must be Jim’s friend,” replied Bashara.  “I am the Wizard Bashara.  Jim and I had some adventures on the road.”

“I heard about you a few days ago.  SueLeeta said you abandoned the town right before Windfall’s battle.  We have not been formally introduced, however,” stated Jarra dryly.  “I knew it had to be you, though.  I recognized you by the scar on your face.”

“Yes, things were quite different when I was on the road,” replied Bashara.  “There are just some luxuries that must be sacrificed for the sake of one’s job.  A woman doesn’t always have time to look her best,” she looked the healer up and down before adding, “But then, I don’t have to tell you that.”

“Yes,” sniffed Jarra.  “It is quite difficult to find time to engage in beauty treatments when a successful town’s mayor relies on your talents every...single...day.”

Bashara sucked in a breath before replying, “Not every day, surely.  He never even mentioned you when he was with me.”

Jarra sniffed and straightened her posture.  “I’m sure he didn’t.  It would be quite irresponsible of a mayor to discuss his town’s people with a prisoner.”

Bashara grimaced.  “A prisoner, you say?  Why-”

“Yes.  A prisoner,” Jarra interrupted.  “I’ve heard the tales of the ones that were at the fortress that day.  You were most certainly being held captive as a prisoner.”

Not wanting to go down that path, Bashara changed course.  “At any rate, I have recently had some leisure time to pamper myself.  Perhaps I could give you some quick pointers to help you entice a man.”

Jarra sat down next to me.  “I would enjoy that.  We can do it right now.  I think we could be good friends.”  All of this was said through slightly gritted teeth.

Bashara seemed to ponder that for a few moments.  “I’m sure we could.”  She turned to me.  “Jim, dear, have you seen Sir Dalton?”

I shook my head.  Bashara almost reached for me, but Jarra stood and began dragging me toward a different table. 

“Do you know Sir Dalton?” Bashara asked Jarra from halfway across the room.  “I’ll have to introduce him to you, Tarra the Healer.  He always seems to find some local girl that interests him.”

Jarra the Healer’s eyes were positively cold.  “That would be ever so nice.  I do enjoy meeting visitors from out of town.  I must assume that you two are intimately acquainted.” 

“Oh, Sir Dalton,” called Bashara politely, but her eyes told a different story. 

Sir Dalton had brought all his wards to the inn for dinner.  Even with their now expanded quarters, their shop was hardly suited to hosting visitors.  All ten young women were doting on the massive Knight with loving eyes.  Sir Dalton seemed to be above their doe-eyed looks.  Indeed, he appeared almost parental over the lot of them. 

“And that’s why I use antlers in all of my decorating,” he finished, before standing up and strutting over to Bashara.  She instantly stood and ushered him to the table Jarra had chosen for us.  He glanced at me with casual indifference, before his eyes landed on Jarra the Healer.  From there, his expression changed dramatically.  I’d seen him looking at women he admired but was not attracted to, I realized.  The same was not true with Jarra the Healer. 

“Jim,” he greeted with his standard amount of pomposity, “Who is your mesmerizing friend?”

“Bashara,” I answered.  I heard teeth grinding from the seat beside me.  “You should already know that, though.”  Then, I truly noticed who Sir Dalton was actually ogling.  His smoldering, intense gaze was directed toward my very plain, boring healer.  Well, he could have her.  It would give me more time with…

●                    You have increased your rank in Mental Resistance.  You are now Novice.  Mental Resistance has been increased.  You can commit Mana to increase your base mental defenses.

●                    You have partially resisted a Mental attack check: You are a Novice at Mental Resistance.

Mental Resistance is odd.  I never seem to fail any checks. 

That was probably useful.  I assumed Shart was trying to do something weird to my head.  I was gaining Mental Resistance Skill Points left and right.  I decided to try increasing my base Mental Resistance and committed 50 Mana to the effort.  If that didn’t keep Shart out of my mind for the time being, I didn’t know what would.

“This is Larra the Healer,” Bashara responded. 

“Jarra the Healer,” stated Jarra, after I declined to introduce her correctly.  She caught my expression as I watched Sir Dalton.  I was suddenly finding it more interesting to glare at him then gaze adoringly at Bashara. 

“Imagine finding such a beauty as you in this far-off provincial town,” stated Sir Dalton.  “Would you care to join my friends and me for dinner?  I would enjoy hearing of this strange place from you.”

A deep frown marred Jarra’s face as she looked at me.  I didn’t really see her very well.  I was staring at Bashara, but I had good peripheral vision.  I wondered why Jarra was upset. 

“Well, perhaps I will take you up on the invitation, good Sir.  I seem to be unnecessary here,” said the healer.  Jarra stood and all but stomped off.  For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why she was so angry.  I was talking to one of my oldest friends on Ordinal. 

“I don’t know anything about you, Jim.  Let's go outside and find someplace private.  You’re going to tell me everything,” stated Bashara, gathering herself to leave.  That sounded awesome!  It was a rare situation with no downside. 

As I got up to leave, I heard the sound of claws on wood.  It was followed by the loud shout of, “Pillow!”

With that, Badgelor unceremoniously leapt through the air and into Bashara’s arms.  Even in his smallest size, he was still a handful.  The impact alone was enough to knock Bashara off her feet and onto the floor.  It was pure misfortune that she caught a tray from another table on the way down.  Both she and Badgelor were drenched with several bowls of fish stew. 

“I woke up and you were gone,” stated Badgelor, snuggling up against her midsection. 

“Badgelor, great, I’m happy to see you as well!” she said patiently.  When she spoke like that, her face didn’t quite match her tone.  She looked mean, and I could have sworn I saw a scar on her cheek.  As she noticed me watching her, she smiled brightly.  I had to be wrong.  I was sure of it.  Wasn’t I?

“He is really fond of you,” I said, trying to help her up.  One of the bowls of stew had landed on her face, covering her hair in goo.  She pushed me away, frowning at Badgelor.  She twisted around to look at Jarra, whose face was tied up in an expression indicating that butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.

“We will talk later, Jim,” said Bashara as she picked up Badgelor.  “Goodnight, Marra,” she yelled and stomped up the stairs toward her room.  Badgelor, the little traitor, was nuzzling up against her stomach as she left. 

“What the hell just happened?”

Chapter 45: The Ire of Mar

The next morning, Mar was lingering outside my office.  He nearly dropped his clipboard as my door swung open.  The clerk recovered himself quickly and stood before me.  As per usual, he was just full of problems.  We headed out on a road trip to discuss logistics issues.  The energizing conversation threatened to put me right back to sleep as we walked. 

The northeastern part of Windfall was still a blasted wasteland.  It was the bad part of town, and the fact that Mar and I were both here together was highly unusual.  We were on the southern edge of the burnt-out section, facing a street overgrown with grass.  I hadn’t recalled seeing any of the streets in town being overgrown, so I had to start actually listening.  I had been paying a bit more attention for about the last five minutes anyway, because Mar was becoming increasingly animated. 

“So, we can just move the supplies to the castle as a one-off without a problem, but we already have one trade route,” stated Mar.  “Setting up a permanent trade network with the castle will be impossible.”

“Alright,” I said, rubbing my temples.  There was something I was missing, but Mar was babbling.  “We can just send the supplies as a one-off, then.”

Mar looked aghast.  “If we do that, we won’t get the castle bonus!”

“Well, why didn’t you lead with that?” I asked, instantly regretting it. 

Mar looked at me like I was stupid.  “I thought every small child knew that you had to have a settlement in your trade network to get the bonuses.”

I hated him all over again.

“And we are full on our trade routes?” I growled.

Mar sighed and nodded.  “Yes, we only have the one functional warehouse.”

“Each warehouse cannot have more than one trade route?” I growled more harshly.  It was a total waste of a good growl, because Mar did not pick up on social queues.  In many ways, arguing with him was like arguing with a computer.  Unless you used a twenty-pound mallet, they didn’t understand anything you were saying.

“Duh,” he replied.

I was going to kill him out of spite one of these days.

“I can do it,” Shart whispered in my mind.  I ignored him.

“Which would be faster, expanding the existing warehouse or building another warehouse?” I gestured to the spot which had probably held a warehouse in the past, based on the road pattern.

“We have a Tier 4 Warehouse.  Unfortunately, it was built for more efficiency rather than for more trade routes.  It connects to the Narwal Trade Network, but we aren’t at a high enough reputation for that to get us past Narwal’s markets.  We also don’t have a town Merchant,” Mar added reproachfully.  If he was sad that we didn’t have a Merchant, that was fine by me.  I had a feeling it was part of my job to get a Merchant, though. 

“If we had a town Merchant, how deeply do you think we could get into Narwal’s trade network?” I asked.

“Oh,” replied Mar gleefully, “They are only three or four hops away from the capital.  That’s as far as anyone has to go in the Trade Network.  If we could get an Expert Merchant, we could get direct access to the capital’s market.  Even a Journeyman Merchant would vastly expand our markets.”

Looks like your tenure at Narwal is over, Blots. 

“Let me get this straight and remember that I can throw you over that wall,” I said, looking directly at Mar to get his attention.  He swallowed and nodded.  “Our warehouse allows us to connect to one location that is one stop away from here.  For Windfall, that stop happens to be Narwal.  If we had a Merchant, we could expand that to go to the towns beyond Narwal. Finally, if we want to get really connected, we need to be able to clear enough stops to get to the capital.  The capital is where everyone else trades.”

“Yes,” smiled Mar, clapping.  He actually clapped, as if I was a very small child who understood something very simple. 

We had a town mission to sell iron to Narwal.  At the time we’d accepted the quest, it had been necessary for Windfall.  We had desperately needed money coming in.  Now that I was really analyzing the trade agreement, I couldn’t think of a reason for Narwal to need as much iron as they were buying from us.  That could only mean one thing.  They were buying it from us, probably pretty cheaply, and selling it up their own market channels for profit. 

Time to cut out a middleman or two.

“So, we need to build a new warehouse,” I said, recalling the massive stone structure that made up the city’s main warehouse.  Thankfully, it hadn’t needed many repairs to get it up and running, probably because it was so well made to begin with.  After some light repairs, t had doubled as a shelter during the first mission to Narwal.  We were currently storing the iron there, as well as the pack animals used for pulling it to market.   Building a second warehouse was going to be an impressive feat of engineering.  I hadn’t even investigated how much time and materials would be required.

“We’ll have the castle repaired before we build another warehouse,” I said, checking out the requirements.  The list didn’t just stop at materials.  I’d have to bring in an Expert Architect to finish the massive structure.  

Mar’s eyes bulged.  “Why would we do that?”

“What else can we do?” I questioned, counting to ten in my mind.

“Well, we could just build a Tier 1 Way Station instead of a Tier 4 warehouse,” replied Mar.  “That would connect us to the castle, because it's in our province.”  I dragged up the building menus.   Warehouses were listed in the Logistics category.  A Tier 1 warehouse was called a Way Station.  It could only go within a province.  A Tier 2 warehouse was called a Lot.  It could use a road network to trade with a city within a set range.  Tier 3 and Tier 4 mainly just expanded the range that you could send goods, as well as the quantity of goods you could send. 

That meant that our Tier 4 Warehouse, a Grand Depot, if one was being specific, was a degree of overkill that was truly impressive.  I had the equivalent of an Amazon ship center in town that was being used for our minimal goods.   I could theoretically have over 120 people working there, mainly as teamsters, to move goods as needed.  Presently, a second warehouse of any kind, even a Way Station, was overkill.  If it would solve Mar’s dilemma, though...

“Cool,” I replied dryly, “Why haven’t you done that?”

Mar looked sheepish.  “The town lacks the required tools to build it quickly.  Fenris scoured Narwal but didn’t turn up everything we needed.”

Zorlando was getting his inspection ready for me in a few hours, but I had some time to deal with this issue first. 

I activated the town menu and went to the construction tab.  I’d all but lived in the repair tab since I got to Windfall, but everything left was either marked low priority or impossible to repair.  I’d have to make things right for Tomen eventually, but he was patient, like a statue.

There were multiple layers of buildings, but I went to the Logistics section to start.  It contained roads, outposts, and warehouses.  When I flipped to warehouses, I saw the structures were broken down into tiers, as I expected.  A Way Station was the basic warehouse building and was a Tier 1 structure.  Strangely, as I dialed forward, I discovered that we didn’t have blueprints for Tier 2 or Tier 3 structures in the Warehouse Chain.  I did have the Tier 4 warehouse blueprints, though.  We could either build the most elaborate warehouse known to man, or a nearly open lot with a wagon hitch.  There was no middle ground for Windfall’s warehouses, it seemed.  At least, not right now. 

●                    Way Station: Tier 1 warehouse structure.  A Way Station is a basic logistical structure that will extend your trade network within a province

I dialed through the nearby locations and found Narwal, Windfall Castle, and Creektown.  Both the Castle and Creektown were greyed out. 

“What do we know about Creektown?” I asked Mar. 

He shrugged, “It's up north.  I found a reference to it in the town logs from ages ago.”  He gestured to a spot on the map well North of Windfall.  Apparently, Creektown was on the same road I’d traveled down when I’d first landed on Ordinal. 

I brought up my own map for reference and shrugged.  “It's north of the grotto and that’s Warg territory.  We can ignore it for now.”

Mar nodded, and I continued fiddling with the building.  The actual interface was interesting, as I could genuinely ‘see’ the building.  It was transparent while still appearing to be very real.  By concentrating, I could move it around, though the building tended to snap to favorable points on the road.  Those suggested places were where it would connect most easily.  As I moved the building to where I thought it needed to go, I watched it snap completely into place. 

●                    Would you like to build a Way Station?  6 Lumber, 10 Stone, 8 Cloth, 200 build points.  Tools required: Crane.  (Yes/No)

Why did it need a crane?  My Engineering skill answered, showing me how the heavy blocks would be challenging to move without one.  It was possible to move them without a crane, but it would take a hell of a lot more work. 

“Do we have a crane?” I asked.

“No,” replied Mar, “Fenris couldn’t find the parts we need to finish the only crane blueprint we have.”

I verified that.  A blueprint was required to build any large item, including cranes.  This particular crane looked pretty ordinary and was capable of being moved between building sites.  We were missing several parts, including a heavy Block and Tackle, to finish construction. 

Breaking out of Menu Time, I began walking around the puzzle, considering how to do it.  It was just the latest of many puzzles required to get the castle plan reactivated.  I considered brute forcing the issue, when Mar handed me something.  I looked down at my hand and saw something I hadn’t used in a while.

●                    Mar has handed you a cabbage

Chapter 46: Improv Time

“Are you sure this is safe?” called OttoSherman.

“Yes,” I yelled, “Just keep holding on to the ox’s lead.  Whatever you do, don’t let go of that chicken.”

“I don’t see how this could possibly work,” stated MarkAlbert, the pale-faced leader of the construction crew. 

“I don’t see why OttoSherman needs to hold the chicken,” stated Jarra the Healer.

“I think it's scaring the crows,” replied EstherSasha.

“I thought we wanted the crows to eat the seed,” stated AvaSophia.

“Only after the rope is through the pulley,” said Mar.

“If the pulley goes too soon, won’t that cause the beehive to slip?” asked JoeClarence, amazed.

“I don’t want to see anyone else get stung,” whispered EveSophia.  She quickly glanced out from behind her mother’s skirt but ducked back out of sight just as quickly.  MarkAlbert groaned. 

“Get a running start,” I yelled over to HankAlvin, who was brandishing a sledgehammer.

“I don’t see why I couldn’t be holding the hammer,” cried OttoSherman.

“HankAlvin’s gimp suit is damaged, so you are the only one who has one.  Now, hold on,” I cried.

“Ready,” yelled Badgelor, as he finished the last dig.  “Release the goats!”

Starting with a might crash and ending with OttoSherman rolling on the ground to put out the fire, the foundation of the Way Station was in place. 

●                    Amazing Deed, the Foundation of the Way Station has been installed successfully.  +90 build points.

AvaSophia held up the smoker, calming the bees.  “I didn’t think that was possible.”

MarkAlbert handed her a silver coin.

“My poor gimp suit!” cried OttoSherman.

“If we take the top half of mine and the bottom of yours. . .” said HankAlvin thoughtfully. 

“Well, I, for one, have a whole new respect for cabbage,” said Shart after a long moment.

Chapter 47: The Army of Windfall

“So, you’ll have the rest of the Way Station built by the end of the day?” I asked, as I cleaned duck fat off my hands by way of Badgelor licking it off. 

“It will be a challenge,” said MarkAlbert, the construction crew chief.  He had been part of the repair crews, until they had shifted to being more in-depth.  He had the Architect skill, as well as the Building skill.  Those allowed him to plan out and lead groups of builders.  The earlier jobs in Windfall had been simple repair jobs.  Now, the jobs were either complex, like fixing the badly damaged wall, or super complex, like building entirely new buildings to support the rest of the town. As such, MarkAlbert had become more noteworthy.

He was a man of medium height with straw-colored hair and a very prominent mustache.  He looked almost like a giant had taken his thumb and mashed the man down slightly.  He barely had a neck, and his shoulders were overly broad.  He wasn’t quite as massive as HankAlvin or OttoSherman, but he was close.  He wore coveralls and always seemed to have a pencil on him, though I’d never seen him write with it.

“I could always help more, if you need it,” I ventured.

“NO!” he exclaimed, “Err, I mean, no, we’ll get it done today.  You did all the hard work.  We can disassemble… that, right?”

MarkAlbert gestured toward the large pile of logs, stones, and various other parts of my hastily built crane.  Now that the beehives and ducks were gone, it looked pretty tame.  I thought it looked tame, at least.

“Sure, if you don’t think you can use it again,” I stated.

“No one should ever use that,” he grumbled quietly, but not quietly enough.  Raising his voice, he added, “We’ll take it down for the materials, and to keep the children safe.”

With that decided, I checked the time.  I was still on schedule to meet up with Zorlando at the barracks, so I hoofed it over there.  On schedule was a bit of a misnomer.  I’d set aside the afternoon to review the preparations with Zorlando, and it was still technically afternoon.

As I turned to leave, Sir Dalton walked over to me.  “Jim, I heard that you were going to inspect your troops.  I’d be delighted to accompany you on this quest and offer my insights.”

His smirk left nothing to the imagination.  I knew exactly why he wanted to come.  His wards had become somewhat important to the local economy and were busy during the day.  That left the Knight with little to do.  His inherent politeness had kept him from interfering overmuch.  

The problem was that my inherent politeness wasn’t going to let me turn down his simple request.  I’m sure the reality was that he wanted to wow the troops with his own brand of self-aggrandizement, but, in doing so, he’d have to compete with Zorlando.  That might be worth the price of admission alone.  I wouldn’t wish those two braggarts in the same room on my worst enemy.

“Of course,” I stated, gesturing toward the street, “How have you been settling in?”

“The Golden Badger is actually quite comfortable,” he stated wisely.  RueVivian would not take well to someone insulting her inn.  I’d eaten at enough establishments in Narwal to know there wasn’t a significant difference in quality there.  “My neighbor is a bit loud.”

“Bashara?” I asked, thinking.  The inn had rooms, but not many guests.  Most of the Golden Badger’s money was made by the tavern on the first floor.

“No, I assume it's Badgelor.  He snores,” stated Sir Dalton.

“You can hear it from the Town Hall,” chided Shart from my shoulder.

“Strange, I don’t recall him snoring overmuch,” I replied, as we followed the northern wall toward the barracks. 

Sir Dalton glanced at me, weighing whether to continue or not.  “You know, I still find it reasonably interesting that you Woodsmen can talk to the animal.  It's an impressive trick.  I wonder what my horse would say about me.”

“I could ask it?” I offered.  I didn’t speak horse, but I could probably figure it out.

Sir Dalton winced.  I doubted he had really been thinking that one through.  “No!  I mean, don’t bother.  My horse is well cared for.  He probably wouldn’t say much of anything.”

We slowed down as we turned the corner, and I noticed one of the scouts.  The scout saw me an instant later and appeared to throw something behind her.  I puzzled over what that was all about as we followed the outer wall of the barracks. 

The barracks was a located in an area next to the northern gate.  It was more a compound than a single structure.  Each building within its own smaller wall with a different purpose.  The main structure was a training hall where the militia earned their stripes.  The side buildings were just as important, if not more so.  There was a well-stocked armory, and a small storage building stocked with provisions.  The entire compound was surrounded by a smaller wall that allowed the barracks to function as a fallback point, should the need arise.  To top it off, the barracks had room for over 160 people to sleep there which had made recruitment much easier.    

It was surprisingly silent.  Even Sir Dalton had quieted, as we walked up to the gate.  It was less grand than any of the city gates but would still require equipment to bypass.  My guess was that by the time the enemy got here, they would obviously be ready to breach whatever was left.  All this gate needed to do was keep the barracks safe from casual penetration. I miss my wife.

Inhaling sharply, I kept walking.  No point in thinking about that now. 

Walking up to the gate, I spotted what I initially thought were two members of the Golden Company, Zorlando’s unit, on guard.  Upon closer inspection, I realized that I recognized both from earlier battles.  I knew they both had family in town and were working to provide for them.  They saluted crisply, their iron scales gleaming in the light.  They were wearing armor similar to my Metal Armor, though, from the looks of it, their armor was actually more well-made than mine. 

I saluted back and continued through the gate into the courtyard.  I was greeted by over 200 Windfallian militia, arrayed in ranks before me.  My Perception bore through them.  I noticed not all of them were as well equipped as the two out front.  Most were wearing lighter armor, though chain shirts seemed far more common than leather. 

Fenris and Zorlando were in front.  Fenris looked resplendent in his leather armor, which appeared more heavily reinforced with strips of metal and thicker hide than when he’d last worn it.  Zorlando’s armor looked even more splendid than the rest of the men.  He was wearing half plate armor with golden embossing on several bits, making it look especially shiny.  He held up his sword and yelled, “Salute”

Everyone did.  Salutes on Windfall were primarily designed to prove that you didn’t intend on immediately fighting.  As such, it involved both hands.  The standard salute involved taking the left arm and holding it directly in front of you, parallel with the ground.  Then, the right arm was swung up, catching the left hand in the crook of the elbow.  Then they rotated their hands to face forward and waved at me. 

I have seen this somewhere before.

Fenris and Zorlando broke out of parade formation and walked toward Sir Dalton and me.  The Knight was doing a very poor job of masking his surprise.  I wondered how many soldiers Narwal had under its banner.  If I had to guess solely on Sir Dalton’s reaction, the answer was going to be “not enough.” 

When they got into range, Zorlando spoke first.  “Per our contract, my most honorable mayor, I have trained for you this excellent unit of men.  Sixty Spearmen, sixty Archers, and eighty Infantry.  Plus, and with Fenris’ permission, I have expanded the Golden Company to a force of forty Mercenary Infantry.”

I glanced over at Fenris, who just shrugged.  “We are still paying them mostly in equipment.  The Armorers are cranking out medium armor by the lots.” 

“This force is well over the king’s allotment,” coughed Sir Dalton, once the power of speech returned to him.

“Windfall has no king,” I stated, remembering the earlier conversation I’d had with Lord Dookie.

“Be that as it may,” started Sir Dalton, “What do you need such a large force for?  Narwal is your nearest neighbor, and we are certainly not trying to provoke you.”

“Our nearest neighbors are goblins,” stated Fenris flatly, his eyes icy.

Sir Dalton chuckled, “You certainly can’t need this large a force to handle a few goblins.”

Zorlando intervened, “Sir Dalton, my friend, did you not pass down the road from the Western Gate?  Those large and numerous pits were for dead goblins.”

Sir Dalton was a man experienced at combat.  He knew what the end of a battle looked like.  He was not a smart man, but he was certainly capable of doing basic battlefield math.  After a long, uncomfortable pause, he asked, “Thousands?”

Zorlando and Fenris nodded.

“We are planning on marching to the castle as soon as possible,” I stated.  We still had a bit of breathing room, but we needed to temporarily seize the castle as quickly as possible.  We needed to get the licenses assigned posthaste. 

“The day after tomorrow,” stated Fenris authoritatively.  “We are still manufacturing a few parts that are needed for a quick build of one of the provincial structures, but I have been assured they will be ready by then.”

“Blots?” I asked.

“Blots seriously considered coming with me,” stated Fenris.  “I’d suggest you accompany me next time and persuade him yourself.”

“I fear that will be delayed with this operation to take the castle,” I replied. 

“I will be happy to accompany you, of course,” stated Sir Dalton imperiously, as he continued running through the repercussions of a force of goblins.  He had apparently just now realized that the focus of the conversation had moved well away from him.  It occurred to me that a goblin army had controlled the Western Gate Fortress.  If I hadn’t shown up, they might very well be snipping at the heels of Narwal right now. 

Zorlando responded before anyone else had a chance to.  “But, of course.  We would be most happy to have you accompany us into this glorious battle.”

With that, we began an inspection of the troops.  By the end, I was equally impressed, both by the work my men had accomplished and how horrified Sir Dalton was. 

Zorlando took Sir Dalton aside to watch several of the Infantry members training against each other.  I spared a moment to talk to Fenris.  He was watching several groups of militia march in formation, while the Archers were busy filling targets full of training arrows. 

“I assume that most of these troopers have regular jobs,” I stated, looking at the ranks of men training in formation.

“Yes, only the eighty Infantry are full time militia.  The remainder are from the work crews,” stated Fenris, watching the troops critically.  “After this battle, they will go back to regular work details in town.  Quite a few of them are Farmers intent on building new farms.”

I nodded.  Fenris coughed.

“I may have promised them choice plots if they went to battle with us,” said Fenris almost sheepishly.  He did like a chain of command, and he had gone outside of it.

“Makes sense.  Men fight harder when it benefits them and their families.  Make sure they know that, in the event of casualties, the benefit will pass to their relatives,” I said stoically.  The notion that I would be that blasé about this was difficult to track, but I’d wandered a battlefield recently.  I’d seen bodies thrown into mass graves.  It put things in perspective.   

Fenris nodded, the air sucked out of the proverbial room.  Zorlando had been training them, but they were Fenris’ troops.  He and I both knew the odds.  Some of them were most likely going to die soon. 

Chapter 48: Home Sweet Home

Fenris and I talked for a bit longer, before I finally departed.  It turned out that we were only paying eighty of the Militia to be there.  The others were all volunteers, and I had been a bit late.  I had been quite a bit late, actually, and it was only their loyalty to Windfall that kept them there so long.

“So, Militia training is something people want?” I asked, as Shart and I left the barracks and headed back into town.  He was glued to my shoulder hard.  Badgelor, my traitorous companion, was still off gallivanting with Bashara. 

“Obviously.  How else would they get additional HP?” replied the demon as I walked.

I thought about that for a moment.  A member of the militia did have more Hit Points than regular people.  I didn’t walk around checking everyone’s Hit Points anymore, but I knew the abilities you got from various jobs carried over.  If you wanted a few extra Hit Points. earning the lowest ranks of the militia job were the fastest way to get there. 

“No stupid questions, Dum Dum?” queried Shart, amazed.  “I’m stupefied that you can follow even simple logic.”

“I thought you implied people could only have one Profession?” I asked calmly.

“There it is,” replied the demon, “I just needed to be a tiny bit more patient.  Professions and Jobs are two entirely different things.  Take OttoSherman.  His Profession is a Lumberjack. But he has a bunch of different jobs such as…”

“I don’t want to know,” I growled.

“...Quartermaster,” finished Shart, chuckling.  “His other activities are his hobbies.”

“Oh, that’s nice to know,” I stated, feeling relieved.

“His main hobby is Stone Cold Freak, a hybrid of the Dom hobby and the Gimp hobby,” continued the demon.  “Actually, it's quite interesting.  You see . . .”

Shart went on about OttoSherman’s truly unique hobby for about five minutes.  I tuned him out.  Shart was going on a tear, and it was best to just let the gas escape from the stupid red balloon.

“You done?” I finally followed up, after what sounded like a detailed lecture about how one acquires a gimp suit.  It was a strangely elaborate process. 

“Probably.  Do you have anything else you dare to ask?” inquired Shart.

“Why don’t Jobs show up in Lore?” I asked.

“Your Lore skill is only at the Initiate rank for Humans.  It needs to be at least Journeyman, Dum Dum,” replied Shart looking smug.  “Do you have any other questions?”

“Is there a way to communicate over long distances?”

“Yell?” suggested the demon.

“No, magically,” I clarified.

“Magically Yell? replied the demon.  “It's a specialty branch of magic.”

“I mean magically communicate with someone at a distance,” I said.  As Shart began to open his mouth, I felt compelled to add, “Without yelling?”

“How would they hear you then?” asked the demon. 

I facepalmed, grumbling as I began cutting down city streets to get to the center of town.  I was headed that direction for good, noble, and valid reasons and not because there was a sweets vendor there serving something like an apple pie.  I very much needed an apple pie right about now.  Shart was annoying me, and I began increasing my pace. 

“If you mean ‘how can you magically telecommunicate with someone?’,” grinned the demon, “One way you could would be to build a magical earring.  Once that is done, you interface it with something designed to control information, such as the map in the barracks.”

Now, that was something useful.  “How hard is it to make the earrings?”

“Not very, but you’ll need some magical components that aren’t usually found in the valley,” replied Shart.  “You could probably get them from Narwal.”

I nodded, leaping over a wagon that was blocking a side street and continuing to walk at a brisk pace through town.  “What about other magical gear?”

“Like what?” asked the demon.  “You only really have aptitude for two styles of runes and your Air runes are not standard, due to the Biological Aeromancy aptitude.  You chose the talents to empower your sword with fire, but that means you can’t put an Air rune on it.  Doing so would create a conflict. 

“A conflict?” I questioned, trying to puzzle out what that meant.

“Look, a runed blade is a permanent thing.  If you take something that’s burning and make it burn more, that doesn’t really matter very much,” explained Shart, “but if you took a fire and threw some water onto it, that’s going to mess it up.”

“I know Air runes.  Couldn’t that make, like, a fire tornado or something?” I asked.  That would be pretty cool. 

“What?  No,” griped Shart, “That’s stupid even for you.  You’d have to merge the runes.  Fire and Air Mana don’t even merge to make a Flame Tornado.  If you made an Air rune that worked with your Flaming Sword talent, it would ONLY work when the sword was on fire.”

“I’d have an Air and Fire Mana attack?  That doesn’t sound too bad,” I said slowly.  Shart got more and more impatient.

“Oh, so you know an Air rune that merges with a Mage Knight Fire ability?  Thank goodness!  I thought those were incredibly rare and hard to come by,” said Shart.  It was quite possibly the most dripping-with-sarcasm version of his voice I’d ever heard.  “You must be some sort of genius Prodigy of Runes, because normally they need to be attuned to the wielder’s specific magic.  An off the wall rune wouldn’t work for just anyone!”

‘I get it, I get it,” I grumbled.

“NO, you do not, you dolt!  Magic is dangerous.  It is not safe.  It is not healthy.  Stupid Dum Dum fucking idiots like you who try to do things they don’t understand tend to die,” said Shart.  His voice was growing ever louder as his eyes narrowed further.  “If you die, I’m going to be moderately inconvenienced.” 

I sucked in a breath to reply, but I’d been deflated.  Asshole.

That was the crux of the issue.  I didn’t know what worked, or what I could do safely.  It was like playing with electricity; I was holding several live wires, and my experiments involved flipping unknown breakers.  I could make a rune that would add a piddling amount of Fire Damage to my sword attack, but  it would be like attaching a razor blade to a chainsaw.  Sure, it sounds neat, but it’s not much more effective than normal. 

I was about to ask Shart about non-elemental runes that might help my sword, when I noticed a large, dark shadow to my left.  Why?

“Jim, is that you skulking about?” asked Sir Dalton just as I stepped into the market square in the center of town.  He walked right over to me, a broad smile plastered on his face.  I was about to question what he was up to when I noticed he had several apple pies in each hand and a small bag. 

“Um, what do you have there,” I asked realizing that sulking through the alleys while talking to Shart was slower than just walking straight to the gate. 

“Oh, I found out there was a sweets vendor and Margwal loves apples,” replied Sir Dalton grinning, “So I bought up the whole lot of them.  Good thing too, there won’t be another harvest for a week.”

“Sir Dalton,” I said, not quite controlling my voice, but he didn’t seem to notice. 

“You can just call me Dalton,” replied the big man, ignoring the slight.  He seemed ready to say something else but visibly calmed himself.  “Just taking a walk in this normal, peaceful little town of yours?  It's nice, but it's no Narwal.”

I didn’t really have a response to that, so I looked on in defeat as the sweets vendor shut down his stall.  Dalton had bought the entire stock.  I turned and kept walking until I’d gotten past the Town Hall. trying to ditch the Knight.  He was noisily eating a pie and pissing me off, but Sir Dalton had fallen into step next to me.  We walked in ‘silence’.   

“Jim, do you mind if I call you Jim?” asked Sir Dalton after he finished his pie, not waiting for an answer.  “Jim, I have a question.  I believe you, the mayor, would know the answer.”

I stopped watching as he brushed the crumbs from his face and raised an eyebrow at him.  This would be good.

Dalton took my motion as a request to continue.  “It's about Jarra the Healer.”

I raised my other eyebrow and looked at Dalton fully.  He looked apprehensive.  “What about Jarra the Healer?” I asked.

“Well, it's just that . . .” he started, before wringing his hands.  He actually looked nervous.  “Well, it's just that she’s perfect and-”

“Beautiful,” I ventured.  Jarra was very pretty, of course.  She had a broad welcoming smile and was interesting to talk with, now that I thought about it.  I recalled seeing her in the inn recently, and my thoughts became muddled.  Odd.  As I started to contemplate it, Dalton interrupted me. 

“Yes, of course,” replied Dalton, “but so are a dozen other women in this town.  No, Jarra the Healer is captivating.  She is always reading and asking insightful questions.”

“I thought you preferred pictures over words?” I remarked.

Dalton frowned, “Do you think I can’t read?  I was trained by the finest tutors befitting my station.  I enjoy pictures, to be certain, but I also enjoy the company of a beautiful woman for more than her shape.  Jarra the Healer has a high Comeliness stat, as well as high Intelligence.”

I dropped into menu time and searched for those two stats.  I hadn’t been aware that Ordinal had an Intelligence stat or Comeliness stat.  I had to search for them, as they were not on the regular character sheet.  However, when I searched for them specifically, I was able to bring up their values.  I had a +3 Intelligence stat and a +4 Comeliness stat. 

Now that I knew what I was looking for, I could find it with a quick glance, rather than an all-out creepy stare.  Glancing over at Dalton, I saw his Comeliness was a +5.  It wasn’t hard to figure out what the values meant after that.  Zero was neutral looking.  Not many people had that as their stat.  Average looking would be a +1.  It was very common.  The remaining values represented increasing attractiveness.  I found a +4 woman, HankAlvin’s grown daughter.  She sure was a delight to the eyes. 

Sir Dalton unsurprisingly had a +0 Intelligence.  He was a bit slow on the uptake, but strong and determined.  I had seen people be successful with less. 

A pang of something flared up in my innards.  Jarra the Healer was too good for Dalton.  I wasn’t sure of my exact feelings for her, but she was certainly not for him.

I realized I had been staring when Sir Dalton coughed, “Like the thirstiest sailor, er, I mean Jim what has you so perplexed and speaking of the woman I was describing to you as I am only interested in women.”

Crap, I had been staring too long.  “Jarra the Healer is a complicated woman.  What about your women?  The ones you took great pains to ensure safety for?

Sir Dalton looked puzzled for a moment.  “I am grateful to you for taking care of my wards. They are all quite precious to me, and I thank you for it.  Most of them are the daughters of troops I commanded in battle that did not survive.  I have not formally adopted any of them, but each of them is cherished. I have spared no expense in their upbringing and education.  When I learned my own home was threatened, I sought out a stalwart, chaste man.  One who was well known to not even look at the ladies.”

“Until you gave up and found me?” I asked, hating the answer.

Sir Dalton blinked, “Um, no.  By all accounts, you are swimming in beautiful women in Windfall.  Verily, we all know the morals of those adventurer ladies.  Still, you steer clear, and I can guess why.” 

“That’s not-” I attempted.

“You would not have been the first man who has attempted to climb this mountain,” replied Dalton flexing his amazing back to accentuate his words, “and while I appreciate the attention, I’m not really interested in… that.”

“I am not romantically interested in males,” I grumbled.

“But Jim, I thought we had something,” said Shart in a mock wounded tone. 

“I’ll kill you later,” I growled refocusing on Sir Dalton. 

“No, Jim, of course.  I understand now.  Sometimes we suffer tragic injuries in our youths, and no magic will ever fully heal them,” nodded Sir Dalton knowingly.

“I have not suffered an injury to my manly bits,” I stated through gritted teeth.

“Ah, a Curse then,” the idiot nodded again, while Shart laughed so hard he nearly fell.  I’m sure he would have, had he not been welded to my shoulder via his personal mixture of unholy goo.  “Well,” continued the Knight, “after I'm able to ensure my ladies’ continued protection, I’ll quest with you.  We will get you fixed.  I vow it as a Knight in the Kingdom of TimSimons,” stated Dalton confidently.  I gave up.  He was in his own little world, and no facts or reality would help now.  

“Thanks,” I said, dropping the issue.

“Your secret is safe with me,” stated Dalton.

I doubted that, but who knew with Sir Dalton.  As we neared the square, singing was becoming more audible.   Normally, when Dalton’s wards started singing, I moved away.  Their songs had a notorious capacity for ensnaring everyone and everything.  With Dalton here, I decided to roll the dice. 

It was the redhead, Hansa.  She was singing “Part of This Town.”

Sir Dalton reached out, blocking my path.  “Their songs are kind of catchy.”

I gave up trying to understand Dalton.  He was inscrutable.  “Well, thank you,” I stated. In Ordinal a catchy song meant you were going to end up as part of the backup dancers. if you were not careful. and I had things to do.  “I’m planning on asking Jarra the Healer to accompany us to the castle.  I can keep an eye on her for you.”

“Why, thank you,” stated Dalton.  “With a wingman like you, I will gain her heart in short order.”

I continued looking around, checking various stats of members of the village.  This newfound ability to see people’s Intelligence and Comeliness was earning me some Lore Skill Points.  Anything I could do to increase those numbers was worthwhile.  I saw a young woman with a +3 Comeliness walking toward me.  I did a double take as I realized it was Bashara.  My shoulder stung as Shart teleported away. 

My, she is lovely.

●                    You have increased your rank in Mental Resistance.  You are now Initiate.  You are now aware on ongoing mental attacks even if they are successfully employed against you.  You can expend 2x Mana to break unknown mental effects.

●                    You have resisted a Mental attack check: You are an Initiate at Mental Resistance.

That skill was just about the strangest one I had.  It kept firing off at random, and never when it was important.  I idly wondered what Shart was doing as Bashara approached, a frown evident on her face. 

“Your badger slept with me last night,” growled the Wizard.

“I thought you brought him to your room with you,” I said, looking around.  I spotted Badgelor handing the redhead a fork for some reason. 

“He snores.  They aren’t cute little snores, either.  They are loud, rumbly ones that shake the earth,” stated Bashara.  It was then that I noticed the bags under her eyes. 

“That’s what you get for taking strange animals to bed with you,” coughed Sir Dalton.  His eyes opened wide as Bashara’s nostrils flared dangerously.  “I meant to mention that to you Jim.  I was searching for other accommodations in town, in fact I see one over there.”  And with that, Sir Dalton, the bastion of Knightly chivalry fled the field. 

Maybe he’s not a total idiot after all. 

“No,” Bashara growled watching Sir Dalton’s backside as he left, “I meant to say your badger will not be sleeping with me anymore.”

“Poor badger,” I responded, and she visibly calmed.  Her frown vanished as she surveyed the situation.  She grinned.

●                    You are being subjected to an ongoing Mental attack.

What the hell was Shart doing?

“Jim,” she cooed,” you promised to take me on a walk.”

“Oh, I did, didn’t I?”  It was a good thing that I just happened to be here when she walked by, so I could help her with that.  Another prompt appeared in the side of my vision.

●                    You are under an Unknown Influence.  This will require 95 committed Mana to resist at your current level of Mental Resistance.  Would you like to commit 95 Mana? (Yes/No)

Grumbling, I selected yes.  That was a sizable chunk of my Mana pool, but I needed to stop the foreign influence on my mind.  Instantly, I felt my head defog as I continued watching Bashara. 

“Actually, it occurs to me that I also need to get some preparations done to go to the castle. Perhaps you would like to accompany me to my work?” I replied to Bashara.

“Well, Jim,” she said, twirling her hair around her finger, “I was hoping to go somewhere more private to talk. “

                 You have resisted a Mental attack check: You are an Initiate at Mental Resistance.

“Bashara, I apologize, but I do not have time for a pleasurable walk at the moment.  We are preparing to go to the castle the day after tomorrow.” 

Bashara pouted, “But Jim, I really need to talk to you in private.”

“We are alone now,” I responded.

“Some place that we can’t be overheard,” she clarified.

                 You have resisted a Mental attack check: You are an Initiate at Mental Resistance.

I growled.  Shart needed to lay off his mental gymnastics.  I kept forgetting to bring it up with him, but this was getting downright annoying.  The expression must have shown on my face, because Bashara had been about to touch my arm.  Instead, she pulled back quickly. 

“I said I cannot do it right now.  Perhaps I can find some time this evening or tomorrow,” I stated.

Bashara considered that for a moment.  I knew she was used to getting her own way, but something seemed to have spooked her.  Finally, she decided.  “Perhaps tonight then,” she stated.  She nodded at me a bit curtly before departing. Strange woman.

“She’s a Wizard.  What do you expect?” asked Shart, as he reappeared on my shoulder.  Badgelor was standing in a circle of people inside another circle of people, holding one paw up to the sky. 

“Why were you using more mental attacks on me?” I accused.

“I did no such thing!  I only use compulsions through our bond, and those are different.  Besides, I was busy hiding from the Wizard,” stated Shart.

I thought about that as the song finally wrapped up, and Bashara dared to go back into the square.  Instantly, I got a notification that the mental effect had ended; I could recover my 95 Mana.  If it wasn’t Shart, it had to have been the singing. 

“I apologize, Shart.  I think I was standing too close to the singing,” I said, as the crowd started to disperse.  “You know how the ladies’ songs affect people.”  Badgelor looked around, presumably for Bashara.  Not finding her, he traipsed back into the inn.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Shart.  “Mental attacks work weird.  They try to confuse you and make you think someone else is responsible for them whenever you fail your checks.  Otherwise, you’d know who was executing an attack as soon as they started.”

That made sense.  I almost brought up the fact that I knew he had used mental attacks on me before, but that wasn’t new information.  He’d just remind me I was stupid again. 

No longer trying to ditch Sir Dalton I started walking back towards the town square and groaned.  He had gone just far enough to disengage from the conversation between me and Bashara, the cad.  Sir Dalton was currently standing in front of the old Windfall Manor and looking thoughtful.  His hand reached down to finger his money pouch idly, and I could tell he was looking through menus. 

“Jim,” called Sir Dalton a moment later, “I was thinking, you have a bunch of repair crews and probably a few beds that one could purchase.  With your town expanding like it is, I might just buy this old manor to have somewhere near my wards.”

“Delightful,” muttered Shart.

The broken-down Windfall Manor was a three-story townhouse in old Windfallian style.  That is to say, it had a bright purple roof, several large windows, and everything was dilapidated.  Unlike most of the buildings around here, it was not set up to have a shop on the first floor.  It was an impressive bit of architecture, even if it was leaning slightly to the left.  I had considered it myself more than a handful of times.  It was close to Town Hall and my favorite meal spot. 

First, he was going after the best girl in town.  Now, he wanted the best house in town?  I had my limits, and a Founder’s perk.  Bringing up the town menu, I went to the Founder’s perk tab and found what I was looking for.  

●                    Would you like to expend a Founder’s perk for a free house?  (Yes/No)

I selected ‘Yes’ and immediately something started happening.  I say something, because it was difficult for my mind to parse.  The manor seemed to fold in on itself.  Suddenly, the sounds of saws and hammers filled the air, as a strange wind picked up.  It sucked all the nearby debris into a swirling vortex.  In the blink of an eye, a trash tornado spun completely around the yard, clearing everything.

The whole process took less than 15 seconds.  When it was completed, Windfall Manor was fully restored.  The building was perfect, with two large columns on either side of the front door.  There was a small doggie door within it that must have been for some very squat breed of dog.  It would be perfect for Badgelor.  The windows had even been restored, despite Windfall not having a supply of glass.  Best of all, it was no longer leaning in either direction.  It was the nicest looking house in town, and there was no way Sir Dalton was getting it. 

“There are other places you can purchase.  This one is mine,” I said, trying to appear blasé and failing miserably.

“I’m a Knight, and you are the mayor,” stated Dalton, likewise surprised by the sudden effect.  “By courtesy, you have to let me stay with you in your manor.”

●                    Sir Dalton has requested lodging from the mayor of Windfall (Jim).  You my accept or decline.  Declining will lower Windfall’s reputation.  Do you wish to extend an invitation for lodging?  (Yes/No)

Well, fuck me.  “Sure, that sounds great.”

“I’ll get my belongings.  Do you have a staff?” asked Sir Dalton. 

“Yes,“ I said, analyzing my inventory.

“Excellent, tell them I require at least a dozen eggs with breakfast,” replied Sir Dalton.

Oh, he meant a personal staff at my home.  I brought up the town menu without thinking and found the perfect cook.  I also tried to fill the other two positions in the manor, just to get it out of the way.  I found someone with a Journeyman Maid skill and hired her instantly.  However, no one in town had the necessary skills for the other position.  The maid cleaned and I presumed the butler. . .did butler stuff?

“How do you get the Butler skill?” I asked Shart.

“You buttle,” said the demon dryly.  Groaning, I switched out of menu time and spotted Badgelor approaching, just as Sir Dalton walked into my house.

“Well, I still need to fill out my staff,” I stated, closing the menu. 

“I guess talk to OttoSherman,” replied Badgelor, as he sat on the massive porch steps.  “He’d know all about that.”

“I mean the people working in the house,” I said as Badgelor looked on unimpressed, “Like a cook.”

“I don’t think OttoSherman can cook,” replied Badgelor.

“I’m eventually going to get a good cook,” I groaned again. 

“Ooh, looking forward to a snack later,” stated the badger, smacking his lips. 

I chuckled wickedly and sent out invites to a Chef and a Maid.  Both invites were quickly accepted.  It’s not hard to fill positions that come with free room and board.  Being on the staff at the mayor’s house also came with some prestige within the village. 

Badgelor walked past me, and straight through the doggy door.  I had been right; it was a perfect fit for him.  Maybe the previous owner had a badger.

“Hello, Jim, my friend,” greeted Zorlando.  “I saw that there was a magical hurricane, and now this beautiful old manor stands revived in all her glory.  I assume it has many rooms, and is fully in your possession?  

●                    Zorlando has requested lodging from his best friend, Jim.  You my accept or decline. Declining will lower your reputation with the Mercenary commander.  Do you wish to extend an invitation for lodging?  (Yes/No)

I selected “Yes” even as I spoke, “You have a room in the barracks.”

“The beds in the barracks are very public and quite uncomfortable.  I need a room with more, eh, privacy, for when I entertain female guests,” stated Zorlando.  “It does not bother me, of course, but the ladies are noticeably protective of their modesty.”

“That makes sense,” I stated, walking to the door myself.  “Please, gather your things and come back here.”  I had already lost this battle.  I needed to get to the master bedroom before Sir Dalton decided that was where he was staying.

I opened the front door, which had permissions set to it instead of a key and walked inside.  The front room was amazing!  It was all solid hardwood flooring and filled with excellent antique furniture.  The ancient furnishings all appeared to be as well-made as the current versions.  To me, it smelled like old money.

“This is what you people consider nice?” groaned Shart.  “Everything is in one piece.”  It was so orderly that, of course, the demon hated it. 

I started up the stairs, taking them two at a time, until I reached the third floor.  I opened an impressive, heavy, carved door.  I was hoping to find the master suite, but instead found what appeared to be some sort of magical laboratory.  It was filled with many of the same tools I’d been using to carve runes into rocks.  These tools looked much nicer, of course.

“I don’t see how sleeping in here is going to be much better than the office,” stated Shart, as I looked around.  Opening the other two doors on the third floor revealed small, comfortable rooms.  Cursing, I ran over to the bannister and flipped over it, falling to the second floor.  I landed right in front of a surprised, tall, slim, young, blond woman.

She drew a knife and brought it toward my throat at an alarming speed.  I caught her wrist, causing her to become even more surprised.  From there, many things could have happened, but I noticed her green name tag.

●                    Ashe: Human Maid Journeyman

●                    HP: 40/40

●                    Stamina: 30/30

●                    Mana: 30/30

●                    Title: Disabled

“That’s a short name,” I stated, flipping into menu time to verify that she was the maid I hired.  She was quick, if she’d gotten here that fast.  She had an honest face and might have been cute, when she wasn’t holding a weapon on me.  I thought I recalled seeing her before, but I couldn’t quite place where.

“Yes,” she replied after a long moment.  “I’ll put my knife away, if you release my wrist.”

I stepped back at the same time as I released her wrist.  She jerked her hand away before briskly calming herself.  Only then did she sheath her knife. 

“Well, it was fun working with you.  I presume I’m fired,” she said, adding under her breath, “And you are nuts.”

I gave her a flat stare.

“With crazy good hearing,” she said quietly, before returning to normal volume.   “Drawing a weapon with the intent to use it on one’s employer is never a good first impression.”

I just shrugged.  “I’ve had worse.  In any case, I’m impressed that you got here so quickly.”

“Jim almost got killed in the hallway by a maid with a dagger,” chuckled Shart, his expression dimming as he pondered faced the inconvenience of my death. 

Ashe sniffed and glanced around before continuing to speak, “Well, if I’m not fired, I have a lot to do.  This house is surprisingly well-maintained for not being lived in for an extended period, but there is still work to be done.”

“I’ll leave you to it.  I don’t suppose you can help me with a bedroom, can you?” I asked, looking toward the rooms on the second floor.  She did not take my question in the manner it was intended.

“Let me set a few ground rules, first,” she said matter-of-factly.  “That fisherman’s stare you gave me earlier won’t be happening again, okay?”

I nodded.  I really needed to work harder on my expression when I used Lore.  It was an issue that kept coming up, but it seemed to be part and parcel to the entire Lore process.  I had tried to appear like less of a pervert, but I wasn’t making enough progress.

“Second, I won’t be helping you with, in, or around any bedrooms,” she said flatly.  “I understand that you’re the mayor, but I have standards.  My father would be very cross, if you attempted such an ungentlemanly act.”

“Wait, I didn’t mean-,” I started, when I felt a presence looming behind me.

“Jim,” stated Dalton, “What are your intentions with my daughter?”

                 You have failed an Intimidation check: You are an Initiate at Resist Fear.

I hadn’t realized quite how large Sir Dalton was when he wanted to be imposing.  He was normally about six feet, six inches of affable menace.  He’d just dropped the affable portion of that.  I shook it off with some effort.  I was not about to be bullied in my own home.

“I wanted to know where the master bedroom is,” I said, causing his eyebrows to raise even more angrily, “So I could claim it, first, before you tried.”

“As if I would sully my honor by taking the master bedroom.  This is your home.  I’ll take the guest suite,” stated Sir Dalton, stepping to the side and opening a door to a guest room.  “Manners maketh man.”

Ashe was grinning happily at Dalton and even curtseyed as he walked past.  At that moment, she looked very much like a daughter happy to see her father. 

Living with him was going to be a chore.

I looked at Ashe for a moment.  She sighed and pointed a finger to another door.  Following her directions, I stepped into the room.  I was delighted to find a large, four poster bed and an in-room wash basin.  The room was reasonably large, with a dresser and wardrobe that opened smoothly, despite their age.  There were also multiple empty treasure chests inside the room.  Finally, several mannequins were standing next to the door.  I realized that was where I was supposed to keep my armor.  This place truly had everything.  It even had a small pet bed by the window. 

Shart looked around, totally unimpressed.  “This place seems tidy.”

“Well, at least it's not an office,” I replied, opening the window.  It gave a good view of the street.  If I craned my neck slightly, I could see the back door of the Town Hall.  Using my Perception skill, I could just make out Mar, sitting at his desk.

“That’s kind of handy,” stated Shart, as he sat next to the pet bed.  He shook himself like a cat, causing small flakes of dead skin to fly everywhere.

“What are you doing, you daft bugger?” growled Badgelor, coming into the room.  “That’s my bed, and I prefer not to sleep in piles of your dead demon skin.”  He hopped up onto the windowsill and looked around.  “It's good to be home.”

“It sure is.”

Chapter 49: Jim’s New Cook

“These eggs have a very unique texture about them,” stated Zorlando, as he took yet another swig of wine.  We were sitting in the dining room at a table large enough to host huge banquets. 

I ate without complaint.  After all, a little bit of odd texture was good for your soul.  Badgelor hadn’t agreed and was chewing on a ‘left over’ hunk of beef he’d stolen from the meat cellar.  Apparently, the basement of the house was noticeably colder than the upper floors and could be used to refrigerate meat.  A small delivery had been made late last night by my new chef.

“Well, I can always make you some more,” smiled EstherSasha, coming in from the kitchen.

“No, no, I think I have quite enough,” stated Zorlando, looking at me quizzically.  I just smiled and continued to shovel the eggs into my mouth.  The trick was ignoring the taste.  Eggs were not meant to taste salty, sweet, and sour, all at the same time. 

“I wouldn’t mind a heaping plateful,” stated Sir Dalton, striding into the dining room.  He totally missed the look of horror from Zorlando.  “I usually go for at least a dozen at breakfast.  Use tarragon, chervil, chives, or parsley, if you have any.”

“I’ll check,” smiled EstherSasha delightedly, walking back into the kitchen.  “I may have to make some substitutions.” 

“No worries!  I trust your judgement,” declared Sir Dalton.  Zorlando’s head hit the table.  Dalton looked at me questioningly.

“I don’t think he slept well,” I replied, as Zorlando’s head came up slowly.

“Strange, my bed was quite comfortable,” said Sir Dalton.  “Ask Ashe to flip your mattress before you leave this morning.”

“That is the maid?  She is quite a treat on the eyes,” stated Zorlando boldly.  “If I were not a gentleman, the things I would do to her.”

“She is my daughter,” stated Sir Dalton.  By all appearances, Zorlando failed his Resist Intimidation check.

“You were right.  This is better than the office,” Shart said.

“I would give her gifts and tell her how wise and powerful her father is.  Then, I would leave her alone and never speak to her again,” said Zorlando in a rush, flinching. 

“Jim, tell Ashe we are out of cinnamon and lavender,” yelled EstherSasha from the kitchen.

“You seem very lax with your servants,” stated Sir Dalton.  As he waited, he watched Badgelor going to town on his leg of beef.

“It's a local custom,” I said, taking another bite and smiling widely.  It was true.  I was mayor and it was my custom.  Therefore, it's the local custom.  I took another swig of wine before refilling my glass with the last drops from the decanter.  EstherSasha stepped out of the kitchen with a massive plate of eggs.

The eggs looked light and fluffy, a testament to her high Cooking skill.  The herbs covering them were different than the ones on either Zorlando’s plate or my own.  I’d describe the seasonings as being super generous portions.

Ashe walked into the room to grab the decanter and sniffed.  “Do I smell turmeric?”

“Your father requested it,” replied EstherSasha, as she set the plate in front of Sir Dalton.  It was a dozen fluffy, scrambled eggs, cooked to perfection.  That was the trap with EstherSasha.  Oftentimes, her food looked good.   

Sir Dalton took one heaping bite before staring down at his plate.  I thought I saw tears for a moment, but then he went into high gear.  He devoured all his eggs in less time than it took me to finish my two. 

“Truly, a unique taste,” stated Dalton, smacking his lips. 

I have made a terrible mistake.

Chapter 50: Consolidated Sadness

“They tasted like consolidated sadness,” stated Badgelor, as we continued walking.  Sir Dalton and Zorlando were beside me, each discussing the impressive goodness that was breakfast.  My Sense Motive skill kept picking up Zorlando’s lies, while Sir Dalton seemed genuine in his appreciation of the unique meal. 

“I have been eating eggs my whole life and never, and I mean never, have I ever had eggs such as that,” stated Sir Dalton emphatically.  “I mean, you would think cinnamon and lavender would be strange, but, when combined with the other herbs, it was magical.”

I’d tried a tiny bite that Dalton had left on his plate.  It was not magical.  It was . . .well, consolidated sadness.  Thankfully, I was headed to the nearby Town Hall, and Zorlando and Dalton were not. 

I separated from my roommates at the square, while they continued to the barracks.  They were planning on some last-minute training.  If I could manage it, I was going to head over to the barracks later, myself. 

“Feels nice to have a proper bed again,” stated Badgelor, as we walked.  I couldn’t disagree.  My back had been sore ever since I started sleeping in my office chair.  After just one night, my back felt limber, and I had a spring in my step. 

“I thought you enjoyed sleeping with Bashara,” I chided.  Badgelor gave me an even look and continued forward.

“She has this wheezy snore that she does.  It's nearly intolerable,” stated Badgelor, as we arrived at the Town Hall.  “Plus, she mumbles in her sleep.”

“About what?” I asked.

“Sphinxes mostly.  She had a nightmare where she pissed one off,” replied the badger.

“Could she have fought a real Sphinx?” I asked, as I walked into my office.  Mar was nowhere to be seen, which made sense.  He was working on last minute preparations for tomorrow.

“As opposed to a fake sphinx?” replied Shart, rolling his eyes, “No, I doubt that she’s run into one.  Even if she has, one typically doesn’t fight a Sphinx.  They ask you riddles and other hard questions.  If you win, you get a reward.  If you guess wrong, you get slapped with an enormous debuff.”

“How long is the debuff?” I asked. 

“I’ve never seen one last for more than ten seconds,” stated Shart.  I was about to reply when he continued, “Because by then, the Sphinx has eaten you.”

“So, stay clear of them.  Got it,” I said, plopping down at my desk.

“Yes,” stated Badgelor, as he climbed onto the windowsill and sat, “if you fight with the Sphinx, you are going to need an act of God to survive.”

Nodding, I opened the town menu and began to perform checks.  I needed to ensure that the trip to temporarily conquer the castle tomorrow was going to go smoothly.  We were pre-assembling a province building as much as we were able.  When we got to the castle grounds, we would construct it, as quickly as possible, in one of the remaining foundations.  I brought it up in the build menu and saw that it was listed as nearly ready.  It would likely be finished within the next few hours.

Next, I checked the supplies and other logistical needs of the army.  They were well-situated, and we had enough provisions for them to survive a week in the field.  Given the proximity of our supply lines and the timeframe we were planning on, that would be more than enough.

I continued checking our potion supply, which was more than adequate.  It seemed Jarra the Healer had doubled down on potion making in the last few days.  I felt somewhat guilty about that and would have to make it up to her.  I just wasn’t sure how to do that with Bashara in town. 

Finally, I checked on the reports coming in from SueLeeta.  She had been sneaking into town, dropping off reports for Fenris, and bolting back out of town before I could catch her.  It was unfortunate.  I needed to come up with some method of getting back in her good graces.

As I closed the menus, I looked around my office.  My metal armor was hanging up here, as I had not had the opportunity to move it to my house.  As I grabbed it, I noticed that the weight was off.  The suit had been replaced again.  My armor now looked like the same kind of scale armor the militia was wearing.  I thought mine might even be of higher quality.

●                    Mayor’s Armor: Defense 14, +2 against Slashing and Piercing Damage.

I put it on, feeling the weight of it settle on my shoulders.  The situation started to hit me right there.  This played like a game, but I couldn’t pretend that it was.  There were real people here, and, if I screwed up, they were all going to die. 

Honey, I have no idea what I’m doing, and people are going to die.  I felt my hand reflexively tighten on nothing, because she wasn’t there.  She would have known just what to say.

“You’re getting all weepy-eyed, you clod,” growled Badgelor, hopping down.  “We are going to fight, and people are going to die.  Get over it.”

“You are an ass, you know that?” I said to him conversationally.

“I’m Lord of the Badgers, not some fecking milk maid here to hold your hand.  Yer sad, so what?  We all got our demons.  You just gotta move forward,” stated Badgelor. 

He was a terrible motivational speaker.  I inhaled and exhaled three times sharply and put my life back in its box.  After I took one last look, I closed the lid and put on my game face.   I adjusted the last few straps of armor, checked my swords, and left the office for the last time, until the castle operation was complete.

“We need to name the operation,” stated Shart, as we walked through the streets.

“I don’t see why we need to name it,” I replied, as Badgelor adjusted himself on my left shoulder.  The armor had been set up for him to attach himself, but the straps were slightly out of adjustment.  He was working through them. 

“It shows you have confidence in the plan,” Shart replied, as I pulled one strap too tight.  Badgelor nipped my ear.

“I’m going to fall on my ass, and I'm taking you with me,” stated the badger.

“Operation Angry Badger it is,” I replied, loosening the strap so Badgelor could sit properly.  I updated the mission on my town menu and saw a spike in approval.  Morale was sitting quite high, and there was a buff on the soldiers right now called . . .

●                    Militia Buff: Tournament of Battle, all men participating in the battle will gain a morale bonus in the next fight.

I strode into the training yard and looked around, seeing dozens of troops fighting in various training spots.  Most of the enlisted men were already out of the running.  I watched Sir Dalton easily dispatch two militia at once.

Rolling my eyes, I went over to where Fenris and Zorlando were sparring.  Fenris was a Warden, a defensive fighter, while Zorlando was a Mercenary Captain, a profession that was lower tier in terms of power than any of the adventurers like SueLeeta or Sir Dalton.  In MMO terms, Fenris was a full out player character, and Zorlando was one of the town guards.  Of course, anyone who’s fought a town guard knows how tough they could be. 

The tournament was a series of duels, so there was no real damage being done.  That meant that both sides were busy pounding on each other with abandon.  Fenris tended to be more of a finesse fighter, using his shield and footwork to avoid most of the strikes.  Zorlando was well-armed and armored.  He tended to go all in on impressive, flashy attacks.  To each man’s credit, the battle looked fairly even.

“I thought Fenris was going to mop the floor with him,” I said quietly to Shart.

“No, Zorlando’s getting a buff off the tier 4 barracks that you adventurers don’t get.  That’s pushing his <system> rating to level 16, and he’s very well-geared,” explained Shart, as Fenris deflected a particularly nasty blow.  He was unable to follow up, though, due to the speed of Zorlando’s next several attacks.

“Could I stack that with a provincial building?” I asked, considering my options.

“Certainly, and there are some additional roles in your army that you could assign to further buff it. Members of the King’s Army are usually considered to be a match for a level 30 adventurer, if not a bit more.  They can apply that buff to thousands of people,” answered Badgelor, as we continued to watch the sparring match. 

That spun my world around a bit.  I’d figured that after level 10 or so, I’d pretty much be safe against most common people.  Now, I was finding out they gained buffs that vastly leveled the playing field. 

Suddenly, Fenris was on the ropes.  Zorlando pressed in and managed to land several blows on the Warden, forcing him back almost to the ring’s edge.  Shart pointed out that touching the edge put you out of bounds, which was considered a loss.

“You suck! You’re never going to win this,” yelled Badgelor at the top of his lungs.  Fenris heard him, and, somehow, that struck a fire in the man’s belly.  As Zorlando moved in for the finishing blow, Fenris blocked and sidestepped the attack.  Zorlando was sent reeling out of position and out of bounds. 

A mighty cheer rose up from the men, even the Golden Company, as Fenris offered his hand and got Zorlando back on his feet. 

“You have defeated me, fair and square,” stated Zorlando, brushing off his armor.  “Perhaps, we shall try this again, after we’ve secured the castle.  Then, we shall see who is victorious?”

Fenris nodded, his face back to its usual stoic mask.  After the congratulations, he walked over to me and knelt to Badgelor.  “Thank you.  Without your powerful words of encouragement, I would have never been able to win.”

If Fenris ever figured out what Badgelor was saying, he was going to be heartbroken. 

The only two fighters that still hadn’t crossed swords were Fenris and Sir Dalton.  The massive Knight walked over to us, surrounded by a whole new group of admirers.  Say what you will about the man’s personality, he knew how to fight. 

“Well, on to the slaughter,” stated Fenris, showing a rare touch of dark humor.  He walked to the center of the ring.

I glanced at the two.

●                    Fenris: Human Warden, Level 14

●                    Sir Dalton: Human Knight, Level 16

There was only a slight difference in level.  That should give Dalton only a modest edge, but Fenris was going in like he didn’t stand a chance.

“Poor Fenris, he doesn’t stand a chance,” stated Shart, looking directly at the powerfully built Knight. “Sir Dalton is sporting some serious magical gear.”

Oh, crap.  Well, oh, crap for Fenris, but Sir Dalton was going to help us in the next battle.  That was a real mixed bag of emotions, right there.  As the first incredibly fast swing of Dalton’s now faintly glowing sword slammed into Fenris’ shield, I decided that we needed to get a full-time professional Enchanter for the town.  Fenris skidded backward, using Stamina to stop himself, even as Sir Dalton moved in for another strike. 

Fenris retaliated, of course.  He actually got in a few good blows, but the battle was never in doubt. From the opening thunderous strike, to the final smash that knocked Fenris out of the ring, the outcome was inevitable.  In all, my friend lasted just over two minutes, enough to earn a hardy backslap from Dalton.

“Excellent bout, Fenris,” exclaimed Dalton loudly enough that everyone both near and far could hear. “You gave me quite a scare after that block and parry combo you performed.” Fenris’ footwork had been impressive.  He had managed to parry away Dalton’s two-handed sword and then shield slam him hard enough that the big man almost lost his footing.  Almost.

Sir Dalton unfortunately had all the skills to back up his massively inflated ego.  The Knight had managed to turn the fight around, being wise enough to avoid Fenris’ second critical blow.  It was the kind of pounding match that Dalton’s build and equipment were perfect for. 

As the gathered men began to cheer for their victor, Sir Dalton quieted them.  “I appreciate your appreciation of me.  I have come here as a friend, to help out your new town.  However, I have not yet won the tournament.  There is one more person left to fight.”

It was not hard to see who Dalton was talking about.  He was looking straight at me.  I wasn’t so sure about dueling, though.  I really didn’t need to prove anything to anyone, and fighting Dalton looked like it was going to be painful.

“What do you say, Jim?” asked Sir Dalton.  He was back in full condescension mode.  Fenris and Zorlando looked to Dalton and then back to me.  I noted more than a bit of concern in their eyes, as a hush fell over the crowd. 

“Well, if you are okay with getting stomped in front of all these people,” I replied, looking around and speaking just as loudly, “I'm willing to give you a shot.”

“Such bravado,” remarked Sir Dalton, raising to his full height, “This should be fun.”

Badgelor leapt from my shoulder and started to expand to his medium-sized War Form.  He glared wickedly at Sir Dalton, “I’m going to put him in my belly.”

“This is a duel,” I stated.  “I don’t think you can kill him.”

“Oh, I know I can’t kill him.  He’s just going to have a miserable time,” replied the badger. 

“Excuse me, Sir Dalton,” began Fenris, looking between Badgelor and me.  Fenris probably only caught some of that, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what my companion was planning.  “What are your thoughts on Badgelor?”

Sir Dalton paused, obviously considering my badger in the equation.  He pondered for a moment while scanning the crowd.  Beating on a War Badger this close to Grebthar Day was the equivalent of beating up Santa right before Christmas.  Even if you win, you lose.  “Well,” he said, after a moment, “It is said that a Beast Master’s pet is the equivalent of their sword.  I’ll just switch to a training blade, so the match is fair.”

We did have training blades, though on Ordinal, they were just less well-made swords.  It also gave Dalton an out if I managed to win, because he wouldn’t be fighting with his actual sword.  Then again, I wouldn’t be fighting with my actual badger.  If I lost, I, likewise, had an out.

Looking around, I realized no one would care about such trivialities and the amount of smack talking would be immense.

I nodded.  Zorlando was over to Sir Dalton in an instant, moving him over to his corner.  Fenris grabbed me by the shoulder and dragged me over to my side. 

“Lame,” stated Badgelor, lifting his nose at Sir Dalton and stepping aside.  “Little shit is scared of me.  Jim, you are going to have to do this solo.  Been nice knowing you.”

As I was dragged, Fenris started whispering into my ear, “Mayor, you have another problem.”

“What?  You don’t think I can take him?” I asked, glancing over at Sir Dalton.

“If you go all in, yes,” stated Fenris, as he carefully chose his next words, “If you do that, though, Sir Dalton is going to figure out something is wrong in a hurry.”

I hadn’t considered that.  Sir Dalton thought I was a Beast Master Woodsman, which limited my options greatly.  I’d just negotiated Badgelor away, which was the entire reason I was a Beast Master.  I certainly couldn’t magically summon my sword and light it on fire.  I probably couldn’t even use my Duelist talents on him.  Fenris had told me to keep my abilities concealed, and I didn’t want Sir Dalton running back to his king to report me as a super unique individual.  I might have to out myself later.  I certainly didn’t need to do it during a training bout, even if it would wipe the smirk right off his face.    

Offensively, my Woodman class was very limited.  I mainly used Woodsman to augment my badger and for gathering information.  That worked great when combined with my other classes.  As a standalone, I was bringing a wet noodle to a sword fight.

I did still have Powerful Blow and an assload of Hit Points.  I glanced through my skills, and the problem became even worse.  I had Parry and Block as part of the Woodsman skill set, but not Dodge or Mitigate.  Those were both cornerstones of my defenses. 

There were a bunch of Defensive skills on Ordinal.  Due to my nature, I knew most of them and used the most efficient ones whenever possible.  That meant that some of the traditional, out-of-class skills that I was ‘supposed’ to have were a bit underdeveloped.  I only had Journeyman in Swords and Mitigate.  My other defensive skills were approaching Journeyman rank, but you had to fight stronger opponents to level them.  I’d been fighting low-level goblins.

I glanced over at the powerfully built and magically armed Sir Dalton.  “Let’s do this!”

Chapter 51: A Friendly Sparring Match

I had made a terrible mistake.  In theory, my combined levels in various classes should have conferred a serious benefit over someone with only one class, like Sir Dalton.  In reality, skills also accounted for a large portion of your combat power.  Sir Dalton was so very, very skilled.

●                    Sir Dalton: Knight:  Level 16

●                    HP: 280/280

●                    Stamina: 320/320

●                    Mana: 40/40

●                    Perk: Powerful Slash, Increases the effectiveness of Powerful Blow by 25%, when applied to a slashing weapon.

●                    Perk: Unlimited Parry, can expend Force to block any attack, even if you are unaware of it.

●                    Perk: Titan’s Fist, can wield Two Handed Weapons one handed, gain +10% damage if wielding a two-handed weapon with two hands.

●                    Skill: Two Handed Swords: Expert

●                    Skill: Swords: Journeyman

●                    Skill: Parry: Talented

●                    Skill: Heavy Armor: Journeyman

●                    Skill: Mitigate: Talented

●                    Skill: Block: Journeyman

●                    Skill: Footwork: Talented

●                    Talent: Heavy Armor Supremacy, Heavy armor is 20% more effective

●                    Talent: Two Handed Swords, Two-handed Swords are 20% more effective.

●                    A Knight is a Warrior subclass, focused on leading troops at the front while wearing heavy armor.  A Knight’s strength is his equipment.  When properly armed and armored, a Knight can survive any battle.

I winced.  I guessed I’d be as cocky as Dalton, if I was loaded up with that much skill training.  I had to come by it the hard way for the more advanced stuff.  Since the Fecking Puma Forest had dried up, all I’d managed to find were a bunch of goblins.  They only gave out minimal skill gains for my more high-level skills. 

Fenris had done okay.  I wondered why that was, but a quick glance at his disapproving face showed me his skill sheet.  He had several Journeyman ranked skills. 

“How does everyone have more Journeyman skills than me?” I choked out to Shart.

“Well, while you were ‘resting’, everyone else went out training,” replied the demon.  “Fenris and SueLeeta came here every day and had Zorlando run them through their paces.  Fenris was getting his ass kicked by Zorlando for the past several days and only recently caught up to him.”

“Shit,” I replied.  I’d needed to decompress, but I probably should have been working on my combat skills.  I’d learned to carve runes and some other minor stuff, but I’d been leveling up my minor skills again instead of focusing on the larger picture. 

“Don’t worry!  With your Jack of All Trades, I’m sure you’ll pick up what you need from Sir Dalton in no time,” replied the demon.

“Really?” I asked.

“Of course.  Remember, I can’t lie to you, Dum Dum,” replied Shart.  He poofed away from me and onto a nearby wall to watch the fun.  “I just doubt you are going to enjoy it very much,” he chuckled.

●                    Duel between Mayor Jim of Windfall and Sir Dalton, Champion of Narwal is about to begin in 3 . . .,2 . . .,1 . . .

The countdown timer was a nice touch.  It gave me a moment to collect myself.  Sir Dalton was watching me affably from the other side of the ring, nearly thirty feet from me.  He had his two-handed training sword ready, and I had my Soldier’s Longsword prepared to meet him.  When the countdown hit zero, Sir Dalton all but vanished from across the field.  He swung his powerful sword at me in one colossal hit.

In the movies, when someone with a dagger parries a guy with a sword, that’s enough to stop the entire attack in one go.  On Ordinal, physics made that a bit more of a challenge. 

●                    Guard Collapsed: Your parry was unsuccessful, due to the high Damage of Sir Dalton’s attack.  Damage reduced by 40%.  You take 68 points of Damage after defenses.  Powerful Blow IV applied.

I had managed to deflect the attack just enough that I wasn’t flung out of the arena in the opening strike.  Instead, I bounced across the ground twice.  I got to my feet and slowed myself by digging trenches into the ground with my boots.  Sir Dalton was no longer looking affable.  He looked pissed that his opening strike didn’t work, and he was getting ready for round two.  He was going to close with me any second now. 

Feck that.  I charged.  I had the Accuracy perk, which helped minimize his defenses effectiveness, so I wasn’t at a massive disadvantage for attacking a higher-level opponent.  If he was surprised by this, it didn’t show.

I came in with a thrust, which he parried strongly knocking me off balance and then flattened me with his sword even as I brought up my bracer to block.  I went scooting backwards this time as my magical bracer was designed to absorb impacts.  It only took me a moment to regain my footing and the powerful blow had moved Dalton’s sword out of position.

So, I charged again, feigning high and then striking low.  Sir Dalton didn’t have time to move the sword properly into defensive position and instead swung out his massive fist and clipped my arm.  I still tagged him with my sword, but due to the armor and the angle my blade was coming from it bounced off.  Sir Dalton completed the motion however and trapped my sword arm.  Then my bell got rung.

●                    Condition: Grappled.  Sir Dalton has grappled you with his Titan’s Grip.

“Good match, Jim,” said Sir Dalton casually, “But no one grips like Dalton.”

I was suddenly aware I was staring at the sky and Sir Dalton’s rapidly descending sword.  The bastard had grabbed my arm and kneed me in the face.  He had not let go of my arm.  I managed a good look at his now grinning face and realized that his grip was even stronger than my own.  As he lifted his sword in the air, I wondered how he was going to get the sword turned around in time when I realized that pommel looked very heavy.  I wasn’t completely immobile, so I jerked to the side as the pommel slammed into my shoulder.  It was a strike I could felt through my whole body, which I couldn’t use Mitigate to reduce. 

●                    You have suffered 34 points of Damage from Pommel Strike

●                    Condition: Bone Fracture, Left Shoulder.  Actions with your left arm will be 50% less effective

I had Iron Will, a perk that reduced pain.  Even with it, the hit was a burst of agony.  I tried to lower my center of gravity, but Dalton’s grip on my arm kept me from moving.  He brought his sword arm up for another massive pommel strike.  I rotated my legs, pressing them against his chest and activated my Jump skill.  I dumped a massive heap of Stamina into it. 

●                    Jump Skill activated: Rank Initiate, maximum Jump height +3 Logs, Cost: 20 Stamina per log of additional height, you have expended 60 Stamina.

The big man went down, slammed into the ground by the force of my Jump off his chest taking some damage from the explosive push.  I didn’t get off unscathed however as his grip didn’t end until well after I thought it should have so instead of launching gracefully into the air I instead went spinning off like a ragdoll.  My Mobility perk kicked on automatically allowing me to stabilize midair, so I landed on one foot and shoulder rolled stopping just shy of the edge of the arena. 

“Well, that was unexpected,” stated the big man, standing up.  I realized he had my sword, because his sword was impaled in the earth near me.  I took a step forward and grabbed it by the hilt, dragging it out in one smooth motion.  It was extremely heavy and unwieldy with one hand, but I could at least move the thing.  I settled into a two-handed grip and got ready. 

●                    You have learned about Two-Handed Swords.  You are unskilled.  This is a particularly bad time to be learning this skill.  Your opponent looks upset.

Well, that was new.  I was used to flippant messages, but I had never gotten one that seemed directed toward my current situation.  Sir Dalton, meanwhile, was spinning my sword around in sharp arcs.  He seemed a bit confused.

“I would have expected you to have a better sword,” stated the Knight.  “You should really ask my wards about that.  They would have hooked you up.  It’s a little late for that now, Jim.”

I really needed to talk to Dalton’s wards more.  That would have been super helpful.  Dalton charged me, demonstrating his Journeyman rank with Swords.  I was really going to have to dig deep to pull this one out of my ass.  Suddenly, a loud chime sounded.

●                    The Battle Master for the Arena, Fenris, has ended the duel early.  Please, check your alerts.

Checking, I did have a flashing red alert, indicating an Urgent City Mission.  I checked it and found that Blots was here, having arrived very unexpectedly. 

Chapter 52: Windfall gets a new Merchant

“Blots is having a mayoral level problem!” I explained and left the arena in as quick of a stately pace as I could muster.  Few of them knew who Blots was.  He’d never been to Windfall before, and only a few people in Windfall had any reason to interact with him.  That few included Fenris, Sir Dalton, and Zorlando.  Fenris and Zorlando would know that Blots was not supposed to be leaving Narwal quite yet.  I had wanted to bring him over to Windfall, but he had not yet agreed to do that. 

With Badgelor and Shart riding my shoulders, I climbed the city wall and all but sprinted down the now repaired structure to the town’s west gate.  The road that the gate fed into was packed with more than fifty refugees.  From there, it was just a matter of going deeper into town until I found Blots rushing forward towards the center of town. 

“Blots,” I said as I strode up next to him, trying to project an aura of calm onto the young man.  I referred to him as a young man, even though, in my current body, he was about my physical age.

●                    Leadership test failed: Blots is not calmed down

He spun to face me, almost shouting, “Mr. Mayor, we have a huge problem.”

“You need to calm down,” I said, dragging him to the side of the street and gesturing toward the many onlookers.  I could already see town morale dropping in my prompts. 

Blots inhaled sharply, then continued, “HarCharles broke through the final line of defense up north. Narwal is being evacuated.  The news broke soon after Fenris left town!  t's chaos in Narwal right now!

That hit me like a ton of bricks.  “They aren’t going to try to defend it at all?”

Blots rapidly blinked at me for a moment.  “Of course, they are going to defend it.  I mean they are evacuating all the civilians and all the refugees.  They don’t have enough supplies to take everyone and there are going to be stragglers that are going to get sent somewhere.”

“And somewhere is here,” I said, understanding.  It wasn’t like there was a large barren stretch of land between Narwal and Basstown.  There were many smaller villages and hamlets between the two cities, and everyone there would be trying to not be between two armies. 

It was just then I heard a loud pop as my shoulder fixed itself due to the magical healing of the duel, I also apparently had a serene expression because Blots finally calmed down. 

“Yes, Lord Dookie even mentioned to some people that Windfall was still accepting refugees. Everyone else was being frog marched south toward some of the settlements there.  Pretty soon, that way will be entirely cut off as the main army is going to be moving north.”

“Shart, how many ways are there into the valley on the Western side?” I asked.

“According to my maps, there is this road and one small pass, if one can find it.  Otherwise, someone is going to be doing a bunch of mountain climbing,” replied the demon.

“The kings aren’t going to consider us a military target worth engaging, if we can keep the Western Gate Fortress intact,” I stated. 

“Why is that?” asked Shart, looking confused.

“There are no paths between Windfall Valley and either King’s territory.  To take the valley, they would need to use an army,” I said thinking.  “That army could be easily cut off, if they sieged the Western Gate Fortress, effectively bottling up whoever attacks us.”

“Um, I guess,” replied the demon.  “I never really understood your human mentality in wars, but neither King is going to let his army get trapped here and no army could move through the mountains to the northwest.”

“How many refugees do you think are coming here?” I asked Blots, finally letting the penny drop.  That would be the real issue, not the armies fighting outside the walls. 

Blots considered for a moment, hesitating.  “At least several hundred from Narwal.  Possibly, a few thousand from the countryside over the next month or two,” he stated. 

●                    Windfall: Population 618

●                    Food Production: 600 Units

●                    Agriculture: 497 Units

●                    Livestock: 28 Units

●                    Fish: 75 Units

●                    Food Storage: 1224 Units

●                    You have 0/5 licenses in use.  Please see the castle to have a license offered to the town.

With this last influx of refugees from Narwal, we’d gone over our production in a non-sustainable way.  Each license represented approximately 500 additional units of food, but we had only been shooting for two.  We’d need all five licenses dedicated to farming if Blots estimates were correct. 

“We are going to have to hold the Castle of Noobs,” I said quietly, considering my options.  That was the lynchpin.  We needed to eliminate the goblins once and for all, and we needed to keep the castle.  I had a plan.  I just needed to implement it. 

“What?” asked Blots, watching me carefully. 

“Something for me to worry about.  Is Narwal still planning to honor our trade deal?” I asked.

“Yes, easily.  They are more desperate for iron now than they were when the mission was issued.  If anything, the price they pay will go up, or they will ask for even more product,” replied Blots.

“Did you get the supplies we needed?  Did you manage to get me those spells I was asking for?”

“The village Spellmonger finally returned to close up shop permanently.  I was waiting on his porch when he arrived,” stated Blots, handing me a small packet.  “I had to get creative with the rest of it.  Finding the materials you required for the castle was a real chore.”

I didn’t reply, but we began walking through the increasingly bustling town.  Blots looked more and more impressed as we strolled.  He watched a string of men carrying supplies for repairs down a side street before whistling.  “To be honest, I didn’t figure this town was much more than Iron Pass Mine, but this is a whole enterprise right here.  It’s an actual, real, little town.”

“We have been busy,” I responded, as we continued walking toward my new home.  I quickly assigned a quest to everyone I needed to meet me at Windfall Manor.

“I don’t think it will be useful for me to be your agent in Narwal anymore,” stated Blots, finally.  “It was nice while it lasted, but most of the merchants are leaving.  The town is rapidly turning into little more than a fort and staging area.”

“You done, then?” I asked.  We both stopped so I could look Blots in the face.

“I was hoping to be of more use to Windfall,” stated Blots.  He began putting together an argument as to why I should keep him employed.  I cut him off. 

“We apparently need a town Merchant to improve our trade network,” I stated, as a small group of children ran past us. It appeared they were chasing some sort of magically electrified rodent.

“Quite true,” stated Blots.  “Having me as your agent in Narwal was helpful, but we can’t get much penetration beyond there without a merchant and some trade licenses.”

“I presume you know about those,” I said.

“I do,” replied Blots.  “My whole family knows about these things.  A Merchant will need some staff to properly facilitate a broad trade network.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” I replied, gesturing for us to continue.  “The job is yours, if you want it.”

Blots missed a step but caught himself and continued walking.  “Are you sure?  With a town like this, you could find someone more skilled than me.  My father, for example.”

“I want someone I can trust,” I stated, looking Blots in the eyes again.  I liked what I saw there.  Blots was a Merchant, but he was a reasonably honest one.  He could probably use a steadier job with a house and very comprehensive health insurance, if he was going to resume caring for Voan. 

“Well, then, I’m your man, I guess,” stated Blots, shaking my hand.  “Of course, we’ll need to negotiate my fee before I can start.”

“How much gold?” I asked.

“Don’t be gauche,” replied Blots.  “Town Merchants work for a percentage.  I’m thinking eight percent.”

“You must be joking,” I replied, feeling my Trade skill activate.   “Try four percent.”

“No one would take me seriously, if I was working for four percent,” replied Blots.  “Let’s say seven and a half percent, like gentlemen.”

We went back and forth a bit, but Blots was far more skilled in negotiation than I was.  We ended up at six and a half percent, which meant Blots was about to be a very rich man.  It also meant that I was going to gain access to far more materials, and I could always fire him later if I had to. 

“Lots of empty houses still, I see,” speculated Blots.  He was whistling as we walked.  He was in a good mood, but, then again, why wouldn’t he be?  “It seems that there is room here in Windfall for taking in refugees.”

“We still have some space,” I said apprehensively. 

“How much space?” asked Blots, calculating.

“You’d have to talk to Mar about that,” I said.  It was best to push this particular chore to Mar. 

“I’ve heard about him.  He sounds fun.”

“You heard wrong,” I replied. 

We arrived at Windfall Manor, and Blots went white.  His voice cracked as he asked, “Is this your house?”

I looked up at the gorgeous, three story structure, noticing for the first time that it had a turret.  It was just like the home my wife had always dreamed of moving into.  It was massive, expensive looking, and in a nice part of town.  My wife would have loved the class of the place.  I just loved turrets. 

“Yes, do come in,” I responded, walking into my house. 

The antechamber led to most of the other areas of the house.  I headed to the nearby meeting room.  I thought the house had obviously been built for the former mayor.  The meeting room contained a long, dark wood table capable of seating two dozen people in plush leather seats.  It was a very nice space for when one didn’t want to have a meeting at the Town Hall.

Ashe walked over to me and curtseyed in a very proper manner.  “I have taken the liberty of reaching out to the Golden Badger for some food.  EstherSasha is busy assisting with the new refugees.”

“That’s probably for the best,” I said.  Turning to the table, I noticed Mar and Jarra the Healer had already arrived.  “I would not want to bother her while she is doing important work.”

Badgelor wandered through the room before finding a spot next to one of the windows and crashing down.  Shart was just gone.  He found large groups of people and their conversations tedious.  That left me alone with everyone for the foreseeable future.  Woohoo.

“Greet the guests,” my wife would say.

“Jarra the Healer, Mar, this is Blots,” I introduced.  “He will be taking over the role of town merchant.  I believe we have an office for him in the Town Hall.”  Blots clasped wrists with both of them, eyeing Mar far more confrontationally than I would have expected.  Of course, Mar returned the favor with gusto, even removing his hat to bow.

“Great to meet you,” stated Mar conversationally.  “I’ve been forced to do all the work of a town merchant, as well as my own job for months now.”

“That explains why such a poor job has been done.  You are overstretched.  I’ll be happy to help,” stated Blots. 

Well, a little competition was a good thing, I supposed. 

“Mr. Mayor?”  Jarra the Healer sweetly called.  Very sweetly.  Disturbingly so.  Every hair on the back of my neck rose as one as I turned to face her.  She continued, “Is it true that Sir Dalton will be accompanying you to the castle?”

“Yes,” I said, sticking to the facts.

“And I, unbeknownst to me, will also be going to the castle?” asked Jarra the Healer.  She was the leader of our medical core.  I had initially planned on only bringing healing potions, as we were going to hit it and quit it, but things had changed.  Now, we had to make a long-term arrangement for the castle.   

“We might get injured,” I said in response. 

“One would think a gentleman would ask a lady if she would like to accompany his armed forces into hostile territory,” stated Jarra the Healer.  She was turning angry, and that was a problem in more ways than one.  She looked fierce when she was angry, and I had a thing for fierce women.  I always thought my wife was especially cute when she was thoroughly pissed, so it could just be a weird kink of mine.

Suddenly, Bashara was at my side.  “Jim, darling, I am all ready for our trip to the castle, even though you just mentioned it to me at the last moment.”

Jarra the Healer smiled at Bashara.  “I know.  Jim and I were just discussing how important it will be for me to bring my medical supplies and knowledge to the force.  Of course, I’m only too happy to do so.”

Bashara frowned at her.  “Well, of course, Jim needs me to open up a puzzle that only someone of the Wizard class can manage.  It’s not something that I suppose a Healer would understand.”

If Jarra had been angry before, she was livid now. “I’m sorry that my practical skills of healing the sick and dying are nothing compared to your ability to flick your fingers around like a twit.”

For an instant, it looked like Jarra had scored a point.  I distinctly saw Bashara’s hand move into a casting position.  I was about to say something when suddenly, as if by magic, both women were holding wine glasses, and Ashe was gone.  Then, I realized I was holding a wine glass as well.   

“Sorry,” Bashara sipped sweetly, “I just get so overworked when there is a problem to solve.”

“I’m sure,” replied Jarra the Healer as Sir Dalton entered the room.  He, too, was in possession of a magically appearing glass of wine.   Bashara harrumphed and walked away.  Sir Dalton considered for a moment before chugging the entire glass.  He then nodded to me in greeting and scurried over to sit next to Jarra.

Glancing out the window, I saw Fenris walking up to the porch by himself.  He appeared a bit dazed as he looked up at my new home.  I walked over to greet him in the antechamber.  We nodded as Zorlando joined us from the kitchen, his own glass of wine still nearly full. 

“This doesn’t feel like a pre-battle party, Mr. Mayor,” stated Fenris after a long moment.  “What happened with Blots?”

“Blots is in the meeting room.  We are going to have to hold the castle,” I stated, looking over to the fireplace.  The ornate engraved brick fireplace was lazily burning a single log.  I watched as the flames danced around.  I was pretty sure there was far more light and heat being put out by one log than was normal.  Sighing, I continued, “There will be thousands of refugees here within the next few months.”   

“That is unfortunate,” stated Fenris plainly.  “I ran into SueLeeta as she was coming into town.  She should be joining us here shortly.  She told me she found the ‘spot’, but I wasn’t sure what she was referring to.  She also found where the trolls and goblins are camped.  They are both fighting for that castle.”

“The spot hidden in the sulfur flats is a critical location to the enemy and will win us the war, but only if we defeat the other armies first,” I replied, adding Kappa to the invitation.

“That should prove a challenge,” stated Fenris consideringly, “But I think we are up to it.  I picked up some new armor in Narwal.”

I nodded and tossed him a package, “HankAlvin just finished this, and you are the one who fights with shortswords.  I don’t have time to practice with it, and I’d like it used in the upcoming battle.”

Fenris was about to respond when Sir Dalton said something that caused Jarra the Healer to giggle.  He was so obviously flirting with her that it was painful, but he was following the first rule of dating.  Be handsome.  Fenris looked at me with a raised eyebrow.  “I thought you two were an item.”

“We aren’t,” I said unconvincingly.  “I don’t know what we are.”

“I believe she has designs on you,” stated Fenris.  “I know you say you are married, but you are so far above my level that even your public sheet is very sparsely detailed.  From the information I can read, I don’t see any mention of a wife.”  Fenris eyeballed me.

Wow, Fenris throwing shade.  Will wonders never cease?

I didn’t respond.  I was married.  Technically, I was married.  I’d died a month ago and left my whole life behind me.  Now, I had an attractive young woman with designs on me.  I really needed my wife to tell me what to do in cases like this, and she was unavailable.  Her unavailability was the only reason the situation was occurring at all.  I wanted to refuse Jarra and stand tall and proud.  I wanted to be the husband that my wife would expect me to be, but she’d never know it if I was.  I was dead.

People always wonder what happens to a person when they die.  Philosophers and scholars have spent untold hours forming hypotheses and educated guesses.  Of all the theories and beliefs I had ever heard, from reincarnation to Heaven and Hell to just nothing after death, I had never fucking imagined this.  I had never even considered a place where I would have to live again while retaining all my memories of my previous life, doomed to remember but never again possess.  Perhaps this is some sort of sick, personal hell where I am to be tortured via Shart for all eternity. 

That thought seemed a little bit too poetically stupid, though.  Besides, people died on OrdinaI all the time.  It wasn’t like a final destination sort of place. 

Then, SueLeeta walked in, breaking me out of my befuddled reverie.  She nodded at Fenris before walking straight past me.

“This is going to be fun,” I said and gestured for Fenris and Zorlando to join me in the conference room. 

Chapter 53: The War for Windfall

“That’s about the sum of it,” I stated, looking at the collected mass of my most powerful supporters.  It was evening, the eve of what had every opportunity to be a colossal blunder. 

“So. to be clear,” stated Sir Dalton, rising to look at me.  He quickly nodded to SueLeeta, who seemed to shrink in her seat.  “Your army could defeat the goblins or the trolls in isolation, though with heavy casualties, if the Wargs don’t get involved.”

“Correct,” I said with false confidence. 

“Instead of our initial plan where we take the castle just long enough to get a license or two, we are going to hold it.  We are going to keep it from falling into the hands of either the goblins or the trolls, even though the castle is little more than a pile of rubble,” Sir Dalton finished.

“See, you understand,” I replied.

“I clearly do not.  I still think the initial plan would be acceptable,” stated Sir Dalton.  “We take the castle temporarily, bolster food production, recruit further forces, and then plan for an engagement later.”

“The castle generates licenses at a rate of one per week, but it has to regenerate all the licenses it has previously issued before new licenses can be made.  That means if we take the castle, we get one license right away and one more when we finish the farming building.  If we lose the castle, we’ll have to reclaim it and then wait at least two weeks before we can start getting new licenses again.  In the meantime, if we get a big influx of refugees, we will have too large of a lead time to handle them,” I said.

“We could always refuse to allow more refugees in,” stated Mar without much gusto.  No one really liked that idea. 

“I could always give you a bow to shoot them with at our gates, Mar,” stated SueLeeta, tearing her eyes away from Sir Dalton.  “Not helping the refugees is functionally the same.”

“That will not work,” stated Zorlando.  “Mar is a terrible shot with a bow.  He will miss.”

A few people laughed at the weak joke.  Mar bowed his head. 

I turned to Kappa.  “Do you think the other Wargs will go along with this plan?”

The large Warg looked away from Badgelor to me.  “Maybe.  We hate the goblins, despite our occasional alliances with them.  I believe that what you suggest might work, but I do not know if they will agree to peace afterward.”

“They will,” I stated.  “I have every confidence.”

Sir Dalton opened his mouth to speak but closed it just as quickly.  He looked thoughtful for a moment.  “You really think we can win this entire valley in one go?”

“I think that if we try our hardest and even half the plan goes off successfully, we will have the valley by Grebthar Day,” I stated.

Everyone in the room looked around for a few moments.  One by one, they nodded at me.  Zorlando and Jarra the Healer did so first.  Then, Fenris and Kappa.  Next was Bashara, who looked tickled pink that she would have more time at the castle.  After her came Sir Dalton, who saw that he was clearly outvoted and there was glory to be won.  Finally, SueLeeta seemed to realize what was asked and also nodded before returning to her study of Sir Dalton’s backside. 

At least until Jarra the Healer coughed into her hand, and SueLeeta jumped.  The meeting was over, and the light supper of sandwiches that Ashe had sent for was gone.  Technically, the plate of meats and cheeses and uncut loaves of bread that Ashe had sent for were gone.  I was the one to slice the bread and make a sandwich.  You’d have thought I’d invented electricity.

Everyone began filtering out of the room until only SueLeeta and I remained.  She had been acting odd, and I initially suspected it was still fallout from Shart.  Now, I wasn’t so sure.

“Are we still on speaking terms?” I asked her.

“What?  Of course,” she replied, looking back at me.  “I mean, you are still planning on going to Falcon Crest to fix your problem, right?”

“I’ll get it taken care of,” I responded neutrally. 

SueLeeta just nodded back at me and then asked, “So, who is Sir Dalton?”

Chapter 54: Clever Subterfuge

“That was one terrible road,” stated Zorlando, as we cleared the final distance toward the castle.

“I agree,” stated Fenris, looking back.  “I did not expect to see so many craters and fissures in an old road.”

“At least there were no traps,” commented Sir Dalton.  He continued walking beside his horse.  He had brought it with him, hoping to use it in the upcoming battle. 

“Well, at least we made it here with no casualties,” stated Jarra the Healer.  She was currently riding Sir Dalton’s horse, at his insistence.  I was pretty sure she had only taken him up on his offer to slight Bashara.

Bashara seemed very impressed with the local countryside.  She had been comparing the route to notes she had in her journal and seemed pretty pleased with what she was seeing.   

The wall was just as I left it, covered in vines and hidden from sight to all but the most observant.  This time, however, we had followed the road.  As it ended at the front gate, it was much easier to find than when SueLeeta and I had searched for it.  I hadn’t noticed it when I left the castle, but this actual stretch of road had been hidden by foliage over the years.  If I had to guess looking at it from this side, it had been hidden intentionally.  

“You mentioned Demon Wasps,” stated Fenris, who wasn’t a fool.  He knew what those terrible creatures did and was leery of approaching too closely.  We had to proceed this way, though.  The wagons we were bringing wouldn’t do off-road travel very well. 

I nodded and held up the troll staff, “Alrighty, I need ten troops in pairs.”

Two minutes later, I had the first two troops with the Insect Repellant effect active and standing at the perimeter of the Wasp’s territory.  I then used two more charges from the staff on the next two troops and had them walk further toward the gate.  Pretty soon, I had a corridor of militia sweeping the Wasps from a path that led directly to the gate and into the courtyard.

“Clever,” stated Bashara, as she rode past me on the horse, looking totally smug.  Jarra frowned at me as she walked past, followed by the rest of the formation.  As Fenris passed, he quickly explained that when Jarra dismounted to pick some herbs, Bashara had borrowed her ride. 

While all this was playing out, I stayed in the middle of the corridor to ensure that the spell did not end abruptly.  Everyone made it through, with the staff-warded soldiers falling in behind me as I cleared the distance. 

OttoSherman nodded as I walked into the castle courtyard.  He had been in charge of the supplies, and that had ended up being over six wagons worth.  They were being unloaded deeper in, away from the Wasps and their walls.  As soon as the first wagon was emptied, it was turned around to head back through the gate.

Jarra the Healer ran up to OttoSherman and handed him a vial.  “I made some Wasp Repellent.  It's not as good as Jim’s spell, but it will work on the Demon Wasps,” she explained. “Be careful!  This stuff is slippery.” 

“Really?” asked OttoSherman, examining the vial.

“And poisonous, if taken internally,” she continued.

“External use only,” continued OttoSherman appraisingly.  He grinned and winked at the healer.

“It will cause a terrible rash,” she finished heatedly.  “Put it on something you are wearing, not direct skin.”

“You are no fun,” grumbled OttoSherman.  Jarra rolled her eyes and moved back to where her equipment was being set up. OttoSherman unstopped the vial and sniffed before jerking his head back.  He seemed to mutter something and then spread some of the gunk on the shirt and pants before handling the vial off to another Lumberjack. 

Alchemical potions had an advantage over spells in that creams like that could be used on multiple people.  That vial had enough doses for 20 and they were able to quickly deploy the effects over a critical number of the Lumberjacks.   

“We brought as much lumber as we could,” yelled OttoSherman to the other Lumberjacks, as they applied the cream, “But a few more loads will be useful.”  What he said was true.  We needed more supplies, but, with the quality of the roads, we would have needed to make multiple trips.  We had enough of everything, except pure logs used for making the palisade, firewood, and other basic needs.  I had considered a quick trip back to Windfall for more, when OttoSherman had pointed out there was a forest right there. 

The Lumberjacks headed into the forest south of the castle and began cutting trees near the road.  SueLeeta had already cleared the traps, and scouts were in position, just in case.  I doubted that any goblins would make it there as they were further north.  An extra load from each wagon would be enough to fully supply us for our worst-case scenario. 

“This should be rich,” stated Shart, appearing on my shoulder. 

“Explain,” I responded, nodding to several of the militia as they began loading tools into the wagons.  There were only two wagons going north.  The Lumberjacks taking those wagons looked almost identical to the ones headed south.

“You playing leader is always fun to watch,” replied the demon.  “You know you could always ditch these asshats and head off, level up a bit, and have some fun.  Your constant love of responsibility is just sad.”

I rolled my eyes at the demon.  “I’m not all that interested in just walking around and leveling up for the sake of leveling up.”  Then again, I did have the items from the Spellmonger that Blots had given me.

“Trust me, I know,” replied Shart.

“We didn’t miss anything obvious?” I asked the demon, as I continued checking on everyone.  That was an old habit from when I was a manager.  You always had to at least look like you were paying attention.  Otherwise, people slacked off.

“I’m sure you did,” replied Shart, as he watched the tool carriers rushing forward to begin their project.  “I checked on everything you asked about.”

Zorlando had gotten the men broken off into field engineering units, which was a polite way of saying the militia was busy digging ditches and erecting field fortifications on the other side of the ruined castle.  This, combined with the wall behind us, would place my forces in a tight pocket with a good means of defense or, from either side, escape. 

Fenris was in charge of the ‘Lumberjacks’ heading into the northern forest.  Their purpose was either more or less sneaky, depending on your viewpoint.  There was simply no way to hide all of us in the castle for an extended period, so I had to get clever.

There was a stand of something that looked very much like Willow trees in the northern forest.  These trees were just rare enough that an operation to collect their bark, used in healing potions, might be something a small town like Windfall would pursue.  We weren’t, but it would soon appear as if we were.

Jarra the Healer walked over to me and stood very close.  “Are we going to be safe here?”

I recognized that tone instantly.  “Yes.  If they attack us from either side, they are going to run into a strong defense.  If they decide to run down the hillsides, we can hack them up piecemeal.”

“What if they surround us?” she asked very carefully. 

“That’s best of all.  We have enough strength to punch out either enemy force individually.  If both of them want to offer themselves up as targets, I’m willing to let them,” I replied.

Jarra the Healer was still shivering slightly, despite the warmth of the day.  She gently pressed herself against me.  That’s when I betrayed someone.  I put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her in tighter for a moment.  It was just a moment, until she stopped shaking. 

“It will be fine,” I said, withdrawing my arm and walking away.  

I ground my teeth and continued walking over to where the leadership had gathered.  Zorlando was still getting the men in order to build the northern barrier.  Jarra had headed off to continue work on the field hospital, but everyone else was here.

“So, we are defending this pile of rubble,” stated Sir Dalton, looking around and sneering.  “I was hoping you were exaggerating.”

“Yes, I can’t say I wouldn’t mind having all the walls intact,” I replied, standing next to him.  I glanced back at the exterior, vine-covered wall.  It fell just short of looking imposing.

“How far out until the enchantment ends?” asked Fenris, watching as the workers struck the earth with their picks.

“I’d say about ten logs from where the ruined northern wall stood, depending on how strong the enchantment is,” stated Bashara.  “Maybe more, if there is a Source.”

“There is a Source,” I replied, causing several of the people’s eyes to swell.  “How do you think the town’s barrier is powered?”  Sir Dalton looked impressed by that realization.  The others were torn between shock and amazement.  Sources were incredibly rare.

“Thirty logs then.  Perhaps a bit more, depending on how powerful the Source is,” grinned Bashara.  “I would like to investigate the door to the dungeon soon.”

“How long until the scouts are ready?” asked Fenris, glancing down to a large map that had been provided.

SueLeeta jabbed her fingers at several points.  “Obviously, the scouts behind us are already in position.  The scouts heading out for operation ‘Keep the Goblins Guessing’ aren’t quite in position yet.  Another five minutes or so, and they have flash sticks.”

“Flash sticks?” I asked.

“Jarra the Healer made them. They shoot a little paper bird into the sky that explodes with a crack.  They can be heard for miles,” explained SueLeeta. 

“My, she is quite resourceful,” stated Sir Dalton, earning a frown from SueLeeta.

“I know the recipe and told her.  I was busy scouting, or I would have made them myself,” she replied coolly.

Sir Dalton glanced at her and then over to where Jarra was setting up.  She was busily ordering OttoSherman’s crew around, making sure the field hospital was configured to her liking. 

“Anyway,” stated SueLeeta, getting back on track.  She was much more serious now.  “The northern scouts will be searching for threats.  We don’t expect to find anything, other than a few goblin scouts down here.  If we can, we kill them.  If not, we pull back to the castle.”

The plan was pretty simple.  There were far too many of us to hide from the goblins, so we’d give the goblins a target.  In this case, the target was the group of tree bark gatherers.  The goblins would be expecting simple Lumberjacks, not disguised militia wearing flannel ponchos.  The men were also wearing their helmets, which would cause a normal scout to question what was going on.  Goblins weren’t that bright, though.  We were betting they wouldn’t even notice.

They should start with scouts, then move up to larger forces.  Hopefully by the time they realized that we were actually at the castle, we’d have defenses constructed.  Then, they’d need to bring a bunch more troops to effectively engage us.  In a perfect world, they’d be so casualty shy that we’d be able to get the castle built while they watched, thoroughly complicating their plans. 

“With how hard it is to get past the borders, whoever builds this castle will be a king,” said Bashara.  “For a while, at least.”

“For a while?” I asked.

“Of course,” replied Sir Dalton considering.  “King TimSimons wouldn’t tolerate another kingdom here.  Though, I suppose with the war on, it might take him a while to enforce that.”

No one questioned him, which was telling.  Declaring one’s self a king was going to have some serious long-term consequences.  I wondered if I could take the castle without declaring anyone king.

Bashara was watching me with a small smile on her lips.  The way her cheek was turned, it almost looked like she had a scar.  She stopped smiling and spoke.  “Jim, if everything is settled, I’ll get started on the Wizarding work shortly.  Would you care to escort me to the dungeon door?”

I was about to agree when Badgelor snuck past me and grabbed Bashara by the hand.  “It seems that Badgelor will escort you there in my place,” I said.

The Wizard looked at me carefully for a long moment.  Finally, she acquiesced, following the badger.  “Just remember, I want to talk to you a bit later.”

After she left, Fenris spoke.  “I have marked the range of the wasps.  I believe if we stay farther back, we should be alright.  I think we will have to clear away the nests closest to the gate, however.  Either that, or otherwise render them inactive.”

“I would like to get the entrance secured as quickly as possible,” I stated.  “The repair team is getting ready with the pre-built gate.  As soon as that’s finished, they can move to the ruins of the northern wall to work on the barricade.”

Fenris just nodded and made some notations on the Battle Map.  “I’m headed out to be with the units in the north presently.”  With that, he nodded and departed. 

The table was quiet for a moment while we watched Fenris and half of the disguised spearmen move up with the two wagons.  I tried not to groan when I saw them.  Most of them just had patches of flannel strung into their armor.  I wasn’t sure even the goblins were that stupid. 

“I thought we were sending out the spears,” stated Sir Dalton, as Fenris’ crew began to march.  “Why are we sending out unsupported Lumberjacks?  Are the spearmen already out there?”

For the barest moment, I thought he was being sarcastic.  His expression showed nothing but concern, though.  Surely, he can’t be serious.

“We talked about this,” I replied.

Sir Dalton seemed to ponder for a moment.   “Ah yes, they are disguised.  Brilliant, I didn’t think you could pull it off!  No reasonable man could tell the difference between the two groups.”

“We are crafty here,” I said flatly. 

Half of our infantry, along with Sir Dalton, were the backup plan.  While everyone else was working, they were busy sitting around, waiting on the penny to drop.  If we got truly desperate, we would swing in the infantry and relieve our ‘Lumberjacks’.  Thankfully, the Knight knew what a fight was. 

“Any thoughts on which kingdom building you are planning to build, aside from the Agricultural Hall?” questioned Sir Dalton, as he checked his horse.  It was presently unarmored, but he apparently had a skill for that.  He could armor up his mount in under a minute.  Given how fast that horse was, he’d still get into combat before the Infantry was halfway there. 

There were a maximum number of people who could work on a project, and most of the militia were from the repair crews.  After the castle was done, I could have a few more buildings constructed in short order.  “Right now, my focus is on holding the Castle, but any suggestions you might have would be valuable.”

“We are preparing to build an Agricultural Hall.  You might want to also start work on a Garrison Hall.  A Garrison Hall would augment all of your militia to a higher level of power,” stated the Knight. 

I checked the build menu.  “We are running low on supplies.  We’d have to ensure that the Agricultural Hall was completed before we attempted to build that.”

“Or get additional supplies from town,” suggested Sir Dalton.

“I think we are going to be limited shortly to what we have here,” I replied.

“Armory,” shot back Zorlando.  “Our militia are superbly trained by me already.  An armory will grant a bonus to our equipment, making our weapons even better.  Plus, it requires mostly stone.”

I was about to mention that we hadn’t brought much stone but realized that Zorlando meant that we should be using the discarded stone from the castle.  No matter what castle option I chose, we’d still have plenty of stone left over.  It was a good idea, and I was surprised that Zorlando thought of it.  Then again, he wasn’t a green merc either.  I was sure he’d done worse than scavenge from an old building.

Initially, the defenses were supposed to be built using the rubble of the fallen curtain wall to the north, augmented with wooden walls when necessary.  The wall ran to either end of the pass where the castle had been built, so it made sense.  The only minor hiccups we had run into were that some of the stone had been carted away over time, and we hadn’t brought enough wood to patch the wall.  The wood was an easy fix; it was the reason I had four teams of Lumberjacks to the south, killing trees with abandon.

The massive pile of stone that had been the castle was interesting.  If we tapped into that, we could build out more quickly using less wood.  “When OttoSherman gets back, he is going to love this.” I snarked.

“Do you think he should be pulled in?” asked Zorlando, smoothing his mustache with a thumb and forefinger as he checked the Battle Map.

“Not at this time,” I said consideringly.  OttoSherman would have his wagon filled up in less than two hours, clearing that part of the forest.  “If the scouts see anything, they are supposed to order him back.  That’s why they have ten troop detachments.”

Zorlando nodded.  While I could send out orders to all my troops, I couldn’t send out orders to people not under my command.  Now that we had a trained militia, the reality had changed somewhat.  I had often wondered how a large force could be assembled on Ordinal, and the answer had been right in front of me the whole time.

Part of the answer was my rank 4 War Leader talent, which had leveled up since the Battle of Ironpass Mine and the engagements around Windfall.  At rank 3, I had a Command Limit of 37.  That expanded to sixty at my current rank.   Despite that, I was still in command of my 240-man force, plus auxiliaries and a variety of commanders. 

Most of it was militia training and my small cadre of sergeants.  The barracks in Windfall automatically granted a sergeant per ten troop squad.  If he trained with his squad, he could order them like an officer.  I, in turn, could give orders to the sergeant.  In theory, that meant that I could command 600 men in that arrangement. However, the reality was a bit more complicated. 

Most of the commander’s buffs stopped if they were issued to a unit larger than his Command Limit.  However, almost everyone had a buff that increased their Command Limits.  In practice, I stopped giving buffs out to any individual unit that was comprised of more than 120 people, even though that unit with sergeants might only take up 12 slots of my Command Limit.

That meant that as the Commander of the entire force, I’d assigned Fenris to be in charge of the spearmen.  He could give bonuses to all members of that unit.  I’d assigned SueLeeta to be in charge of the archers, which also contained the scouts.  I’d put Sir Dalton in charge of the Infantry.  Finally, I’d kept Zorlando in charge of his mercenary company.  It was his unit, after all, and they would have suffered a huge penalty if I replaced him as commander

Actually, I was pretty sure I couldn’t separate Zorlando from his company.  When I flicked on Zorlando’s commander icon, it frowned as I attempted it.  Neat.   

I was not a figurehead, however.  As overall Commander, I could use my buffs on any sub-unit under my command, so long as the number of individual soldiers was less than 120.  I could also spread buffs out to multiple units.  In most cases, my Rallying Cry ability, which granted a pretty nice bonus to Health and Attack Power, could be applied to multiple units. 

Zorlando moved with alacrity over to the men.  They began moving the stones of the former castle, causing me to groan.  They were doing it by hand.  That was going to take forever.  They began positioning them for the temporary wall to the north. 

I brought up the building menu.  We were listed as Occupying the area, but we did not have control over it.  Occupying let us perform some construction but prevented us from gaining any of the province benefits.  For now, that suited my purposes.  I laid out the wall to line up with the existing materials that had been placed. 

●                    You are trying to downgrade Stone Wall (destroyed) to a Loose Stone Wall.  Do you wish to proceed?  (Yes/No)

Selecting “Yes”, I saw the telltale green shimmer of a building plan snap over the designated spot.  The workers began taking raw materials over and turning it into a wall.  This would not be a quick process, but we’d have some defenses within a day, assuming everything worked out.  That, combined with the militia digging forest-facing ditches, filled me with confidence. 

Next, I selected Motte and Bailey Castle and attempted to build it right next to the big pile of stones in the center of the courtyard.  The transparent image of the building snapped right onto the dungeon entrance, in the middle of the huge pile of rubble. 

“We need to move all that stone first,” I said to Shart, as I continued fiddling with the plans.

“Yup, there is a Source in that dungeon.  The dungeon door is going to have to be part of the construction,” stated the demon.  “Think of it this way, you’ll end up with a much better castle.”

“How long is it going to take to build?” I asked, bringing up the build menu.  The final form of what had previously been there was a Concentric Fortress.  Enough stone had been looted that the building was highlighted in red.  I could still build a Stone Keep Fortress, which was the Tier 3 Fortress Castle structure. 

●                    Stone Keep Fortress: All material requirements met, BP required: 12500 build points.

●                    Engineering Alert: With your Engineering skill, you can attempt to repair the structure back to Tier 3 (Stone Keep Fortress), BP Cost 5750

The Barracks and Armory were also listed.

●                    Garrison Hall: Tier 1: Increases the level of all militia by one. Cost 10 lumber, 25 stone, 180 build points. Grants one Military License.

●                    Armory: Tier 1 Increases basic properties of a weapon by 5%.  Cost 5 lumber, 30 stone, 160 build points.  Grants one Military License.

●                    Agricultural Hall: Tier 1, Increases provincial food production by 5%.  Cost 25 lumber, 10 stone, 175 build points.  Grants one Agricultural License.

Those were interesting choices, and all had merits.  I couldn’t do anything with them until the castle was completed.  The main issue was that we were at build capacity.  The entire squad of builders I had, including assistance from the militia, could only produce about 150 build points a day.  That meant this repair was going to take forty days or so, assuming my Engineering skill didn’t fail me.  Clearing the rubble would take at least ten days, if it was not reused in some fashion.  The lower level castle only cost 500 build points, which meant that it could be done in just about 2 weeks.  Neither option would let me have a working castle before the enemy got here, though.

The speed of construction on Ordinal was insane, but I was used to that now.  Unfortunately, I doubted the goblins would leave us be for more than a few days, at most. 

“Castle, then Agricultural Hall, then Garrison Hall,” I said to Sir Dalton, as he watched the Battle Map himself.  He nodded at me idly; his focus was on watching the forest. 

“He’s busy doing his job.  Meanwhile, you are over here gathering wool,” stated Shart, repositioning himself on my shoulder. 

I brought up the Battle Map, checking the local area.  My scouts were all in position by now, and there were occasional flashes of red as they found potential enemies.  The map’s flashes were short-lived, flaring out quickly.  Either my scouts were jumpy, or they were running into goblin scouts and not engaging yet.  The south was still clear.  That was the best I could manage at this point. 

Sir Dalton looked every bit the unflappable commanding officer, preparing his troops for a great battle.  His mind might not have been the sharpest, but he could at least focus on a task with dogged determination. . . until Jarra the Healer bent over to pick something up.  His face instantly contorted into a goofy grin. 

I thumped his shoulder, “Focus.”

We continued this way for the better part of the next two hours.  Occasionally, we’d get some activity in the northern forest, but it was typically nothing more than our scouts noticing something odd.  A few arrows were shot, and someone was positive an arrow had been shot at them.  Overall, the goblins hadn’t been making their presence readily apparent.

“I’m going to inspect the camp,” I announced, stepping away from the map.  I’d get an alert if anything serious happened.  There wasn’t much use to staring at a bunch of slowly moving dots on a background.  Anything would be more productive than that. 

“Of course,” stated Sir Dalton.  He called out an inspection of his men, and I started walking through the camp.  The disorganized mess that I saw when the wagons were first emptied had rapidly changed into an organized stockpile. 

“Do you detect any goblins?” I asked.

“It's been over two hours, and all you want from me is to use my magic to check for goblins,” replied Shart, looking hurt.  “No asking me for advice.  No having me plot with you to get your thing into Jarra the Healer’s thing.  Nothing.”

“I will hit you,” I growled.

“Big deal.  You hit like a girl,” replied the demon.  That was sort of true.  It was challenging to really hit the invisible nothing on your shoulder with enough force for it to matter. 

Nearby, Jarra’s field hospital was nearly completed.  Troops on break from their labors at the wall were setting up the last tents.  I expected the entire camp to be in order by tomorrow morning, at the latest. 

“Jarra the Healer,” I greeted, as I approached.  She had a few beds and an alchemical stand, but most of her cures now came in the form of delicious, tasty, magical potions.  She smiled as I approached, but then her face became more business-like.  Glancing behind me, I saw Sir Dalton following me. 

“How are your preparations going?” I asked.

“Quite well, Mr Mayor,” she replied, smiling faintly. 

“Such is to be expected, when such a wise and comely maiden is involved, Jim,” grated Sir Dalton.  He strolled right past me, coming to a stop next to Jarra.  She stepped back slightly, but he wasn’t quite invading her personal space, yet. 

“Um, thanks,” she responded, looking to the alchemy table where several potions were brewing. “I need to check on my new Wasp Repellent potions.”

“I thought I said I was inspecting the camp,” I stated.

“And I agreed with you.  It's time to inspect the camp,” replied Sir Dalton. 

“I was going to ask you about that,” I said, going to examine the brewing potion.  Jarra had a supply of Wasps from SueLeeta, but neither of us had thought to collect the flowers from the vines.  The blooms contained an essential component for the concoctions.  With my Staff’s Insect Repellent effect, gathering them had been a breeze. 

●                    Wasp Repellant: Will grant whatever item this is applied to 8 hours (4 hours base + 100% duration increase) of Demon Wasp repelling properties to a range of 40 feet (20 feet + 100% range increase)

Jarra nodded.  “I was just speaking to SueLeeta about making more.  I’ve already given several vials to OttoSherman.”  Sir Dalton opened his mouth to speak again, so Jarra threw a bit of something into the fire.  A small puff of smoke was followed by an absolutely tremendous stink.

Sir Dalton’s nose crinkled, and he stepped away.  “I will be back.”

SueLeeta was here? I glanced around.  Sir Dalton was still eyeing Jarra the Healer with a certain puppy-eyed fascination as he stepped away. 

The tents for the men were going up in rows.  The Golden Company had spent a good deal of time setting up a section for their camp.  My troops were using it as a template and erecting their own tents accordingly.  That was where I spotted SueLeeta.  She was hiding behind a tent and watching Sir Dalton.   

“Yes,” continued Jarra, as she cut and crushed ingredients.  “I honestly don’t know what Sir Dalton thinks he’s doing.  Sure, he’s handsome and all, but. . .”  She looked at me for a moment and smiled sadly.

Shart harrumphed on my shoulder.  I jerked ever so slightly in an attempt to jar him.  “What?” he hissed.  “The supposedly hot human woman is sad.  Now is your chance!  Vulnerable women are easy.”

“NO,” I mentally yelled while coughing.  Whatever Jarra had thrown in that fire was some of the foulest stuff I had ever inhaled.  Jarra simply put a cloth over her nose before getting back to serious work on her potions.  I bid her goodbye and headed toward the tents.  As I did so, I attempted a morality lesson with a demon.

“I don’t ever want to discuss this particular topic again.  I don’t take advantage of women when they are throwing themselves at me, drunk or otherwise.  What makes you think I would take advantage of a woman that is sad and also scared of the upcoming battle?”

Shart frowned at me.  “Is this, like, a human thing?”

“YES!”

“Okay, okay.  Whatever you say.  Just seems like a missed opportunity to me.”

“It’s not.  It would have been wrong.  At least, it would have felt wrong to me.  When, no, if anything happens between her and I, it will be because we are happy and not because someone is sad and vulnerable.  Do you understand?”

Shart sighed.  “Fine!  Whatever!”  He was silent a moment before adding, “So, you are considering it, then?”

I didn’t answer.  I had covered the distance to SueLeeta without her noticing me.  She was very focused on Sir Dalton.  I recalled there was a hunter talent that allowed you to zoom your vision.  I was pretty sure SueLeeta possessed it.  She was the one that had first mentioned it to me.  That squint she was using unabashedly on Sir Dalton’s backside was confirmation.

“SueLeeta,” I said as I closed.  She jerked her head around, facing me.

“Gack!” she exclaimed, blinking her eyes rapidly to clear her vision.  “Hello, Jim.”

“Are you avoiding me?” I asked, watching her.  OttoSherman had returned and was finishing with the lumber wagon, just out of earshot.  Hopefully, he hadn’t noticed me yet.

“I guess so,” she replied, thinking about it for a moment.  “We’ll go to Falcon Crest after this and get the bond severed.  Then, everything will be fine.”

●                    Quest: Sever the Bond with Shart.  SueLeeta has asked you to sever your Demonic Bond with Shart.  This will cause a reputation loss with Shart.

I accepted the quest.

“You bastard!” screamed a voice to my right.  I glanced over to see that Shart had shrunk himself down to the size of an action figure.

“I can’t exactly turn her down here.  I’ll just never complete the quest,” I mentally explained to him. 

“That’s” started the demon, “Not your worst plan.  Maybe we can arrange an accident?”

“We can try,” I stated, as SueLeeta nodded approvingly.  She watched me for one whole second before turning back to look at Sir Dalton.

“So, how do you know Sir Dalton?” she asked, as OttoSherman walked over.

“He’s the asshole who gives me shit at Narwal.  Why do you ask?” I replied.  Both of them turned to look at me like I was a moron.  I guess she had been staring at his ass a bit harder than could be reasonably justified.  Maybe he has celery in his pocket?

Suddenly, I remembered a party with my wife and her best friend.  Someone dropped a piece of celery, and it got stuck in the folds of my wife’s dress.  I’d offered to get it for her, but her best friend had beaten me to it.  After that, I was never checking out her rump.  I was only looking for celery. 

Hold it together.

“Well, he’s cute,” grinned SueLeeta, noticing nothing off about me.  “Just look at those shoulders.”

“SueLeeta, you were not looking at his shoulders,” I grumbled.  She reddened slightly.  “Besides, he’s a moron.”

“Really?” she grinned.

“Wow, might as well give catnip to a cat, Mr. Mayor,” stated OttoSherman.  “Is he stupid or real stupid?”

“Well, I guess he’s not a total idiot,” I replied.

“Damn it,” stated SueLeeta.  “I never get the trifecta, big, pretty, and an imbecile.”

“Wait, you like stupid men?” I asked.

She eyeballed me for a moment, then turned back to Sir Dalton.  I blinked.  “Hey!”

“You aren’t very bright sometimes, Mr. Mayor,” stated OttoSherman.  He moved a large crate of nails to the ground and sat on it.

“I am plenty bright,” I argued.  “Anyway, Sir Dalton is a chauvinist.”

SueLeeta looked shocked and turned on OttoSherman.  “You said he was a narcissist!”

“Yes,” replied OttoSherman, who turned to look at me.  “He’s not a member of any weird religious cults that I’m aware of.  Hell, I’ve traveled pretty far and wide.  I don’t even know what a chauvinist is.”

I thought about that for a moment.  One of the things I still hadn’t gotten used to on Ordinal was that men and women all had the same stats.  Women tended to be a bit smaller, but a +2 Strength was pretty much identical across genders.  I was stronger than SueLeeta not because I was a man, but because I had more points in Strength. 

The farmers in Windfall were evenly split amongst genders.  Many of the crafting shop owners were male, while many of the service shop owners were female.  I hadn’t really inquired on anything, but, thinking through my skill selections, I hadn’t seen anything limited to gender.  Terms like ‘chauvinist’ had no connotation here. 

“I meant he’s a narcissist,” I said dumbly.  SueLeeta exhaled and turned back around.

“Oh, I can see why,” grinned SueLeeta.  Sir Dalton stood up and flexed his huge back before picking up two large barrels and moving them to the camp supply area.  Sweat bunched up between his enormous shoulder blades as he stepped forward.  His powerful muscles were taut with exertion and -

“You really need a date,” interrupted Shart.

“Perhaps,” I replied.

SueLeeta watched the gun show for a long moment, her lower lip turning white as she bit it. “OttoSherman, plan Tango Two.”

“You think that and not Whiskey Four?” asked the Lumberjack.  He looked over to the work area where a dozen workers labored with our temporary gate.  At her nod, he wandered off toward Sir Dalton.  SueLeeta had a predatory grin on her face. 

“Really?” I asked.

“You had your chance,” she replied impatiently.

“He’s interested in Jarra the Healer,” I said. 

“Then you really should be encouraging me,” stated SueLeeta.  “He’d break that poor girl.  She’d be calling him ‘Daddy’ in a week.”

“Seriously?” I replied, a hot flash of anger seeping into me more deeply than was healthy.

“Instead, he’ll be calling me ‘Mama’,” she grinned, strolling off behind OttoSherman.

As they walked off, I decided that it was best to just go through the package that Blots had gotten for me.

Chapter 55: Check out Jim’s Package

After ensuring that nothing was happening on the Battle Map, I went back to the mostly intact basement and sat down with my package.  I had checked that all the contents were there, but I hadn’t really been able to do much with them until now.  I pulled out the first scroll and noticed the mark of Narwal’s Spellmonger on it.  Grinning, I broke the wax seal. 

It was a scroll of some sort of Earth power.  I grumbled and tucked it away.  The second scroll was for a lightning-based attack, but I didn’t recognize half of its arcane symbols.  I set it aside as well.  The third was a fire spell.  I grinned and quickly read the scroll.

●                    Fire Stream: Shoot an extended stream of fire from your hand, cost 6 Mana per second, base Damage 5 per second.  Would you like to learn?  (Yes/No)

I selected ‘Yes’ and instantly knew how to cast the spell.  I reached into my Fire Core and built the necessary rune.  Within seconds, I could shoot a jet of flame from my hand.

●                    Flameology: Skill up.  You are now Novice in Flame Magic.

I held up my hand and spoke the word of power, “Lame Thro”.  A jet of fire shot from my palm into the bare earth.  I watched as my Mana flashed into it.  Aside from the initial burst of Skill Points, I wasn’t earning much else from the spell. 

Learning spells granted a big chunk of Skill Points, while casting spells only slowly added to them.  However, I did see that I was now casting spells with the fire descriptor for an additional 2 points of Damage, due to my Flameology skill.  When you factored in my very good +4 Willpower, I was able to do 11 points of Damage per second with the spell. Not too shabby.

Concentrating for a moment, I cast the spell with both hands.  Two individual streams of fire shot out; both could be fired independently and in different directions.   As I played with the magical fire, I noticed that it didn’t truly behave like fire.  When it struck anything, the fire tended to stick to it rather than blasting around it like real fire should.  The best example I could give was a small stick that I targeted.  When the flames hit it, they engulfed the stick but didn’t go any further around it than that. 

“Guess that’s why it's magical fire,” I said to Shart, who proceeded to facepalm.  The little demon was getting quite good at the gesture by now.

“What else would it be, candy?” cried the demon.  He hopped down and started going through my scrolls.  He handed one to me.  “Try this next.”

●                    Fireball: Shoot a pea-sized ball of fire from your hand.  It will explode on contact, damaging a base 10-foot radius, cost 30 Mana, base Damage 12.  Would you like to learn?  (Yes/No)

Grinning like an idiot, I learned fireball and immediately prepared to cast it.

I summoned up the fire power necessary to cast the spell, held my hand in the correct position, and said the word of power.  “Noodle,” I called. These words of power make no sense whatsoever.

Instantly, a tiny ball of fire began forming at the tip of my finger.  It held there, growing in size for a long moment.  When it reached the size of a pea, I sent it hurling toward a target.  It flashed brightly, sending out a wave of magical heat in the distance.  This fire behaved the same as Fire Stream, leaving many spots unaffected as the flame ran into minor obstructions.

“That’s so disappointing,” I said, as I watched the fires all snuff out.  It looked like a dud firework.  The spell did twenty points of Damage when I cast it, though, so it wasn’t all bad.  Of course, my Mana pool was only 210 points.  Seven fireballs in a row might be entertaining.

“You only know minor spell runes,” grumbled Shart at my disappointed look.

“Minor spell runes?” I asked.

Shart paused and sighed like a little drama queen.  “Spells use runes to cast, Dum Dum.  You only know the most basic of runes, so your spells generally suck.  You will eventually learn advanced runes.  When you do, you can use those in place of the minor runes you know now.  That will make your spells much more powerful.”

“Any of those advanced runes in there?” I asked.  I had just doubled my spell list, but I was eager for more.

“There are only seven scrolls here,” stated Shart.  “The majority of them are fire.  Here’s a Fire Ward spell.”

I took it and began to read eagerly.  This was no longer basic magic.  The scroll was quite a bit longer than any of the other ones I had read so far.  It took me well over five minutes to get to the bottom of it, and I had to go back up and reread the runes several times. 

●                    Flame Ward: Place a Ward on a target.  Can be activated by having a living being touch the spell, duration 1 day, cost 25 Mana, base Damage 20.  Would you like to learn? (Yes/No)

“So, I generate the spell, but then I don’t cast it until I’m touching something,” I stated.

“It's a touch spell, so yes.  The final spark of the casting is completed by you physically touching what you will cast the spell upon.  You then must immediately release it.”

I miscast the spell the first time I tried.  It popped at my fingertips, small burning embers falling around me.  The second time, I managed to hold the spell at the right level and place my hand on the ground.  A bright orange rune, like the one I’d just cast, appeared on the floor for a few seconds before vanishing. 

Except, I could still faintly see the marking, if I looked very closely.  I had even cast the spell silently. 

I gestured to Shart, who looked at me nonplussed.  “It's your Mana.  Of course, you can see it.  Before you even ask, Dum Dum, arcane touch spells never require verbal components.”

Suddenly, I felt a rumbling in my Mana network. 

●                    Level Up, Sorcerer 1.

●                    You have selected the Sorcerer Class.  Please choose two stat buffs for yourself at first level!

●                    You have gained Amateur rank in the following skills: Mana Control, Magical Implements, Conduction, and Daggers.

●                    You are focused on Flameology: May the fire burn bright!  You gain the Improved Flameology skill.  Existing Flameology Skill Points will carry over.

●                    You have gained the skill tree:  Barrier.  You already possess the skill tree Barrier.  Please select another configuration.

●                    You already have skill with Mana Control, Magical Implements, and Daggers. Please select other skills

●                    Your hit point total is increased by 10.  Your Mana is increased by 10.

●                    Your Hit Points have increased, your maximum Hit Points are now 680

●                    Your Stamina remains at 550

●                    Your Mana has increased, your maximum Mana is now 230

Then, something felt wrong.

My body felt twitchy, and my vision blurred for a moment.  I exhaled and noticed a bit of flame and smoke from my lips.  Looking closer through my poor vision, I realized it wasn't smoke.  It was steam.  I coughed, suddenly feeling all strength leave my legs.  They started to buckle, and I went down on my knees.  Holding there for a second was all I could do.  I thought I could see a wide-eyed look of terror on Shart, so I assumed that whatever was happening was not good.  It got worse.  I fell forward onto my head, and the recently drawn Fire Ward promptly exploded. 

Suddenly, I was floating in a dream-like state.  It was hot where I was, and flames were everywhere.  Shart was there, looking strangely perfect in the middle of the flames.  He was scrambling around like an idiot in a panic.  Only the background was weird.  It looked like a super-sized version of my character sheet. 

I blinked, realizing I was in menu time.  “What’s going on?” I slurred.

“It's bad!” screamed Shart.  “You’ve been out for minutes in the real world, and I’ve been trying to prevent your body from burning up.  Jarra the Healer, lovely girl, just found you and is shoving you full of herbs and potions in the desperate hope you don’t die.  So far, she has prevented you from exploding.  I’m going to count that as a win.”

I looked around.  My mindscape was burning everywhere.  If it burned away, what was going to be left of me?  Shart was busy running from place to place, doing a very strange dance.  Once he completed the intricate steps, he hit whatever was burning.  Wherever he did this, the flames got smaller, though none went out entirely. 

“What are you doing?” I called out.

“You wouldn’t understand it,” called Shart, “but it's called a technical tap.  You perform this ritual in front of something.  Then, you smack it a few times, and it works better.

“I know what a technical tap is,” I replied.

“Then why aren’t you doing it?” called the demon.

Good point.  I ran over to my main character sheet, which was only slightly burning, and started smacking the crap out of it.  Nothing happened. 

“You have to do the dance,” called Shart, as he continued doing his stupid dance. 

I started doing the stupid dance.  It was a combination of an incredible drunk Irish jig, intermixed with Kazatsky kicks, followed by thumping whatever piece of my mind was nearby.

After I performed the ritual three times with no results, I was ready to give up.  That didn’t seem like an option, though.  My brain was literally on fire.  I could already feel something going very, very wrong.  The fourth time, I was lucky.  The flames on my character sheet went out. 

●                    You have gained the skill <Administration>.  You should not be seeing this message.

Oh, that’s troubling.  I continued dancing and smacking things.  After I got most of the character sheet and its various tabs down to a manageable level, I noticed Shart was swinging wildly off the page.  I turned to see what he was looking at and realized that I’d never looked in that direction in my mind before.

My house.  It was just like I remembered it.  The window air conditioner was still in my son’s window, despite the fact that I’d removed it a few months ago.  It was like I remembered it when it was perfect.  My wife was in there with my kids.  It was on fire.

I leapt off the page and ran toward the house.  Around me, other places I remembered were burning, my office, the tree where I proposed to my wife, a single room from my friend’s basement where I hung out.  They could all burn, but not the house.  I got to the door and attempted to open it, but the handle didn’t work.  I slammed my fist into the window, but it was like steel.

This is my memory of my home.  I nearly vomited.  I might have bemoaned being damned to mere memories before but losing the ability to remember suddenly seemed worse.  I began doing the ritual again.  I watched in terror as some of the details of the house became less clear.  There was a spot on the deck that looked to be a different color for a moment, before it suddenly looked just like the rest of the deck.  I finished the dance and slammed my hand onto the door in a cruel mockery of a knock. 

Shart was gone.  I searched for him for a moment but couldn’t find him.  “YOU BASTARD!”

I ran through my mind, beating down the flames.  I figured out how to shortcut the dance, which made the strikes less powerful but eliminated the smaller bonfires.  Then, I realized the specific dance itself wasn’t important.  I began disco dancing and moonwalking around like a true moron while trying to salvage what was left of my memories.  I looked ridiculous. 

Then, the fires just stopped. 

“What just happened?” I asked hysterically, sitting on my front porch.

“Your body grew a second set of Mana channels, which should be impossible,” stated Shart.  “They started interfering with each other, and you caught fire.”

“That explains my body, but what about my mind?” I asked horrified.

“Well, there, too.  Your mind started burning up due to the magical overload,” stated Shart.  “Yup, if old Shart hadn’t been there to save you, you would be a greasy smear on the pavement.”

“Well, at least we caught it before the damage became too serious,” I stated, looking out into a small city of my personal memories. 

Shart didn’t say anything for a long moment.  “There was some damage, Jim.”

I looked around.  We were in the core of my personal memories.  While singed, the things I cared most about seemed to be mostly intact.  My office was the worst location, but I didn’t figure that would matter all that much.  Everything important had more or less survived, but, now that I looked, I could make out some damage.  I didn’t recognize if a burnt stump was supposed to be the front of my office or my parent’s house.  That made me sad, for some reason. 

“Anyway, I broke your Mana network apart and rigged it back together,” stated Shart.  “You should be fine now, but you are going to have to switch between your Sorcerer Mana network and your Mage Mana network, if you want to use those respective classes unique bonuses.  That might not be healthy.”

I focused on my Mana network, but it looked strange.  The cores were the same, but there were many more Mana lines running between them.  Only some of them were lit up.  I delved into my Mana network and began to notice some subtle changes from how it usually behaved.  Shart had basically hotwired my Mana pathways to avoid places where being both a Sorcerer and a Mage would cause me to. . . explode.  All I had to do was flip it back over the other way and I’d be fine, probably. 

Well, you only live once. . . or twice. 

Dropping out of menu time, I groaned.  My face was burnt to a crisp.  As I looked at my hand, I saw that it was also a bit sooty.  Then, a bucket of water splashed over me. 

●                    Jim: Level 1 Sorcerer

●                    Hit Points: 493/680

●                    Stamina: 501/530

●                    Mana: 230/230

●                    Condition: Drenched, you are dripping with water.

●                    Condition: Burnt, your body has been burned.

Groaning, I felt my skin.  I was charred all over. After I blew out both nostrils, I realized I could smell burning ham from somewhere.  My clothes were filthy and frayed, but I was alive.  That would have to do.  The damage had been worse than it appeared, because my Overhealing pool was empty. 

I had the Sorcerer stat bumps available.  I dumped one into Willpower and the other into Charisma.  Willpower, because it would improve my spell damage, and Charisma, because it was the most important characteristic for Sorcerers in Dungeons and Dragons.  That, and I’d been getting into way too many social situations as of late.  Being more likeable wasn’t going to hurt any. 

I exhaled, blowing smoke out of my lungs.  Jarra the Healer hit me with another bucket of water.  I sputtered and sat up.  She looked at me with a truly horrified expression.  It was dark in the basement, but two small fires were lit behind me.  The jumping flames gave her an unearthly glow as the shadows danced along the walls. 

“You are alright?” she asked cautiously.

“I’m fine.  What happened?” I was surprised at the croakiness in my voice. 

“You tripped and landed face-first on a fire rune.  It sent you flying backward into the wall,” answered Jarra.  She looked away from me as she continued speaking.  “Someone heard and yelled for me.  You were unconscious, so I tried to wake you.  Then, you started burning slowly and healing back up.  I used every trick I knew to keep you from dying.”

Groaning again, I brought my hand to my face.  It was glowing slightly.  Wait, no, it wasn’t glowing.  It was my eyes!  I was sitting here with glowing red eyeballs and burnt skin, probably scaring Jarra to death.  I jumped into my Mana network, found my eyes, and muted the Mana flowing into them.  They dimmed back to normal a moment later. 

Then, I noticed the tracker flashing and realized there was a problem.  Something was happening, and I was stuck down here in a cellar.  Groaning, I got to my feet and stumbled up the stairs.  I was greeted by a distinct commotion throughout the camp.

SueLeeta and Kappa flew past me. “Jim, what the hell?” she called.  “The goblins are here.”

Chapter 56: Burning Sensation

I straightened up, the act resulting in several metal rings that had melted into my flesh pulling free.  It was especially excruciating, and I lost multiple Hit Points.  Rushing past the Alchemy stand, I grabbed a healing potion and chugged it. 

The potion did almost nothing, as I was on the granddaddy of all potion cooldowns.  Most of the time, a potion cooldown lasted two to three minutes, with each additional potion adding an additional chunk of time.  My cooldown was rated at over an hour, and I was concerned with exactly how many potions Jarra the Healer had force fed me.  

Bringing up the Battle Map, I found our foes instantly.  A group of goblins had charged through our scout patrols and were moving toward one of the wagons.  The militia there had forgone their disguises and were currently forming a spear line, but the goblin attackers seemed to be in the hundreds. 

Where is that stupid badger?  I yelled for Badgelor, but he was already rushing up behind me, Bashara on his back.  The itinerant lady was holding two buckets and looking very confused.

“I thought you said you didn’t want to be used as a mount,” I yelled, as he ran over to me.

“I thought you were dying,” replied Badgelor, as Bashara dropped a bucket of water.  She attempted to adopt a less confused expression but failed miserably.  “She’s a Wizard with excellent hand-eye coordination!  I figured if anyone could carry a bucket, it would be her.”

“Are you alright?” I asked, raising an eyebrow to Bashara.

Bashara shook her head and then threw the other bucket of water into my face.  “I have no idea what is going on.”

“We are being attacked by goblins.  We need to fight them,” I said, wiping my face.

Bashara nodded sagely.  “Why did I need to throw a bucket of water at you for that?”

“I’ll explain later.  Let’s go!” I replied.

Moments later, the three of us rushed off into the forest.  I noticed that Sir Dalton and his unit were already in motion.  I flicked my wrist, but my sword was nowhere to be found.  My Dimensional Sheath did not activate in any capacity.  That caused me to almost miss a pace, because that had never happened before.  Shart had vanished as soon as Bashara appeared, so I was running into battle with only a dagger or three on my person.

I also needed to deploy Bashara.  That meant putting her into the battle plan with the rest of my army.  However, we were already in combat.  Doing so now would require me to change my battle plan.  That would grant a pretty stiff penalty to all my fighters.  Then, I realized I was overthinking it.  I didn’t need to order her; I could just order Badgelor.  As long as she was riding him, she could gain the benefit of the badger’s orders. 

“Badgelor, protect Bashara!  Go help the first unit.  See if you can save that wagon while you’re at it,” I yelled, cutting to the side.  “I’ll head for the second unit and get them back to the camp.”  The wall was partially constructed, giving the archers multiple vantage points to shoot from.  A few hundred goblins probably wouldn’t be able to penetrate it, but I wanted to keep them further back, if possible. 

“Don’t fear, Jim,” called out Bashara.  “I’ll stay with darling Badgelor and help as I can.”

I went from a brisk jog to an outright sprint, the air tugging at my face.  I crossed the no man’s land between our wall and the northern forest.  It was then that I had to slow down.  More specifically, I ran into a tree branch at forty miles per hour and nearly cracked my skull open.

“Moron,” called out Shart, as I tried to shake away the cobwebs.

“I thought I could see better in the dark,” I responded

“What made you ever think that?  Oh, I know.  You are a massive idiot,” stated Shart.  He was looking down at me in the darkness, his eyes faint red pinpricks.

I went back into my Mana network and unblocked the flows of Mana to my eyes, causing them to both shine bright red.  The glowing notwithstanding, I could now see everything around me as clearly as in daylight.  It was actually too bright, so I dialed it back a bit.  After several seconds, they were set to what I considered an acceptable level.

“How the fuck did you just do that?” asked Shart, staring at me.  He began examining my Mana network.  “Holy shit, that is not my best work.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.  I quickly checked my own Mana network.  “My cores are still there.”

“Yes, but everything else has shifted onto these new lines,” growled Shart, poking at me with a finger.  “I laid everything on top of your existing Mana pathways.  Now, everything is all over the place.  You aren’t even supposed to have a channel in your eyes!  How the hell did you divert it?”

“Like this,” I said, lowering the power flowing in my eyes.  They returned to their normal, non-powered state.

“Oh, boy, that can’t be healthy,” stated Shart, looking at me.  “Well, you pushed the power back through your old Mana network, creating a sort of bridge.”

“I don’t have access to my Mage powers anymore?” I asked, considering the fact that I couldn’t find my sword.

“They are still there.  You can probably flip over to your old pathways, but you’ll lose access to the Sorcerer powers,” explained Shart warily.

“How does this mesh with my UnBound trait?” I asked.  “I’m not supposed to have blocks on my classes or levels.”

“Just because you can do something, doesn’t mean it's physically possible,” said Shart.  “You are talking about jumping up and falling down simultaneously.  Sometimes, you are going to have to choose.  It's going to get worse, if you ever get a Clerical class.  They have alignment restrictions that your UnBound isn’t going to do anything for.”

“Great.  Any idea how I change over?” I asked, trying to will myself Mage.

“On the emergency jury rig job I did on the fly to patch your Mana network together in a way that has never been done before?” asked Shart.  “Nope and good luck.  You’ll need it.”

Well, this is great.  I focused hard on my Mana network.  I could, with some concentration, flick the Mana connections in my body on and off, as long as there was still a pathway for the Mana to reach its destination.  The problem was that Magical Cores were located in specific parts of your body, and my magic was all fire based.  The Fire Core was located in the groin.   

I adjusted Mister Winkey slightly and realized that taking off my metal armor was going to be a thing of horrors.  “Shart, can you see through my armor?”

“Imagine a hot dog that’s been on the grill so long it's partially melted through,” stated the demon. 

Wincing, I tried to adjust a Mana connection when I heard a scream behind me.  I pivoted around and saw a small goblin flying through the air at me.  He was close enough that I didn’t have time to draw a weapon.  Since I was fiddling with my Fire Core already, I did the next best thing.

“Lame thro,” I called out, moving my thumb and pointer finger into position.  A stream of fire erupted from my palm and toward the airborne goblin.  The fire struck him, encasing him in flames.  I was still surprised, as the fire only seemed to surround him, leaving everything else intact.  It gave the flames an unearthly aspect. 

This lasted only until the goblin was about to slam into me.  Before he could make contact, I grabbed him with my flaming hand.  My fingers could still grip the small creature’s windpipe.  It was then that I made a slightly troubling discovery.  Despite the engulfing effects only applying to the target, the spell also counted anything directly contacting said target.  Like, for example, my freakin hand.

●                    You have suffered 11 points of Fire Damage.  You suffer an additional 11 points of Feedback Damage from your own spell.  You have failed a Concentration check.  Your Flame Stream spell has ended.

I didn’t quite scream.  My Iron Will talent only applied to physical Damage, not magical Damage.  For the barest of moments, my hand was engulfed in flames.  I dropped the smoking corpse of the goblin and yanked my hand back.  It was even more charred than before.  Now, it was positively crispy.

“This is not the time to be fucking around with your magic, Dum Dum,” said Shart.  I didn’t respond.  He was right.  I winced, trying to open and close my cracked, smoking hand.  I checked my status page.  I was still coming off a truly outstanding number of healing potions.  Consuming another one wouldn’t help much. 

“Well, as long as I don’t put pressure on it, it will be okay.  How did he find me?” I asked.  Shart rolled his eyes and winked at me.  I realized that with my eyes lit up, I was casting as much light as a small torch.

Fantastic.

Chapter 57: Lumberjack’s Battle

It didn’t take long for me to find additional targets.  One of my two groups of faux Lumberjacks was already fully engaged with the goblins.  They were being assisted by Fenris, Sir Dalton, and Badgelor.  I went to assist the other group.  So far, they had dropped their disguises but hadn’t given up on getting their wagon back.  It was a quarter of the way full of felled trees, so I could see them not wishing to ditch so much hard work. 

Unfortunately, the wagon was not well suited to forest paths, and it had bogged them down.  Several of the militia were trying to get a wheel unstuck, while the others held torches and were casting around for enemies.  The goblins could see pretty well in the dark and had found them. 

Twelve goblins were preparing to ambush the wagon.  I doubted they could kill all my militia, but they could inflict some heavy damage.  They may even kill a few troops before running off.  The goblins had broken into two small groups and had found a small depression in the ground.  There, they began the long process of crawling over to strike at the humans from the shortest range possible.

With my newly enhanced sight and my Perception skill, I had picked them out easily, despite their ample attempts to camouflage themselves.  They had also spotted me, a fact I blamed on my head glowing like the noonday sun.  My eyes stood in stark contrast to the ever-darkening woods.  The only upshot was that the militia was, likewise, alerted to my presence.

I threw a Fireball into one group and shot a Fire Bolt into the other.  There were eight goblins left standing.  As they started to regroup, I activated Fire Stream from both hands.  I dumped Mana into the spell, as the goblins started screaming.  There were only two Shadow Goblins in this mess, both flickering in the darkness.  I lit up every nearby goblin, as I moved my hands around to find targets.  The smell of overcooked bacon and skunk filled the air.   

As I brought both palms up again, a crossbow was aimed at me.  Streams of fire ran over the goblin archer.  He screamed, the bolt flying wide as his face started melting.  Two more goblins, armed with swords and clubs, charged at me as I landed.  I discovered the first problem with using both hands to cast; I had nothing to parry with. 

I began backing up, raking both goblins with fire.  I felt my Dodge skill engage.  One of the Shadow Goblins had gotten behind me and was attempting to drive his blade into my back.  I lurched to the side, straight into the second Shadow Goblin.  He pierced my armor with a vicious trike.

●                    You have taken 16 points of Damage from a Shadow Goblin’s dagger.

My concentration faltered, and one of my hands stopped shooting fire.  The Shadow Goblin sneered at me, but, unlike a normal caster, I still had options.  I drew my dagger and rolled up to face him.  His expression turned malevolent, until I started striking at him.  He was instantly thrown into defensive mode.  His expectations of a Wizard who uses a dagger as an afterthought were scrubbed, as I scored several shallow cuts on him.  He was doing everything he could to keep me away from his vital areas. 

The Shadow Goblin feinted forward, as his partner rushed toward my side.  I Dodged the first strike.  Bringing my dagger around, I nearly took the hand off the second Shadow Goblin.  My spin caused my Fire Stream to roll over one of the other goblins.  He burst into flames and began shrieking as he ran.  He didn’t get very far before falling, a non-threatening pile of smoldering ruin.  The Shadow Goblins had enough Hit Points that just getting momentarily flame throwered wasn’t enough to stop them.  The smaller goblins, on the other hand, were not sporting many Hit Points, especially after the fireballing. 

Checking my now partially depleted Mana bar, I stopped casting.  I could end this battle at any time with my weapons.

“So, are you not trying to level up your casting anymore?” asked Shart.

“What?” I yelled, blocking and dodging several blows, as the goblins tried to maneuver me into position.  I could execute a single Cleave and take out half the small ones, if I only had my sword.

“You aren’t gaining much Sorcerer experience by using your dagger,” replied Shart.  He was, of course, right, but I was fighting.  The logical part of your brain typically vanished when you were actually in battle.   Apparently, the pure casting classes got a reduced amount of experience from using anything other than their spells.  I still had over half of my Mana in the tank, but going below a quarter was still going to cause a Mana crash.  I had done it before, and I didn’t want the literal headache that came from it.   

I thought about just killing the Shadow Goblins with my dagger, but they were worth the most experience.  I went into menu time and checked.  I needed to kill all the goblins here with magic, with the possible exception of a single Shadow Goblin.  Otherwise, I wouldn’t level in my Sorcerer class.  Pulling that off was a dicey proposition. 

Growling, I sheathed my dagger and generated a fire barrier.  “Come on, you green motherless bastard!”

At least, that was pretty close to what I said.  Goblins didn’t really have a concept of motherhood, as much as having goblins that were in charge of caring for all the goblin babies.  Fatherhood was kind of an unknown.  My Lore skill told me that, in goblin society, dating was some form of disgusting perpetual orgy.  These goblins got the point, though, and started charging me.

One of the surviving regular goblins leveled a crossbow at me.  He fired before I could bring another fireball online.  I brought up my personal barrier with my other hand.  The bolt went straight through, unhindered, before hammering into my arm.  “What?”

“Your hardened barrier is a Mage Knight perk.  You aren’t a Mage Knight right now,” stated Shart. 

“Some of the other perks work,” I mentally yelled.

“Well, some of the perks are duplicated over multiple magical classes.  All of them have a form of Twin Casting,” said Shart.  After a quick check, I discovered that the only Mage perks I had that currently worked were Twin Casting, Rune Smithing, and Elemental Access.  Any Mage Knight perk that I possessed that didn’t have a companion in Sorcerer was not going to work while I was like this. 

The goblins took advantage of my moment of distraction, firing three more crossbow bolts at me.  At that range, even I didn’t have enough Stamina to Dodge all three.  Two of them slammed into my armored chest.  I watched the trivial amount of Damage that got past my Block skill and I realized something.

“What the hell am I doing?” I groaned.  I charged toward the goblins, my left hand streaming fire.  There was a moment where the goblins paused, not quite understanding why the single target was charging toward all of them.  They figured it out quickly, as the first of them burned to death.  The Fireball I launched afterward really sold the answer to them.

●                    You cast Fireball: Base Damage 12 points, +6 Improved Flameology Novice (50% bonus), + 5 Willpower, Perk Elemental Affinity+50%, Actual damage 34 points.

Their problem was that I’d already been peppering them with streams of fire, as well as another Fireball.  This time, the singed regular goblins started dying.  Their two remaining crossbow wielders went down, along with two other goblins.  The stream of fire I was using as they approached didn’t help matters. Within moments, every goblin, except the two Shadows, were charred corpses at my feet. 

Of course, the two Shadow Goblins were the only real threats anyway.  I stood for a moment, recovering Mana.  With my heightened Willpower and Spirit, I could recover truly amazing amounts.  I recovered 5 points of Mana every four seconds, not to be confused with 1.25 points of Mana every second.  That was enough to recover quickly out of battle; perhaps in battle, as well, if I was flipping between my attacks.  I was down to just over 35% Mana, and it was going to take several minutes to fully recover.

I shot out a quick pulse of fire toward where I thought a Shadow Goblin was but found no target.  I reached out to counterspell the other goblin’s shadow form, but he pulled on it hard.  The process was very challenging as I tried to avoid his companion’s incoming attack. 

Aborting at the last second, I leapt forward, sending a stream of fire into the Shadow.  It seemed to miss the goblin, as he proceeded to laugh at me.  Growling, I cast Fire Stream from both hands and spun around like an idiot.  The other Shadow Goblin joined in the laughter.  However, the first laughing goblin’s jovial cries turned to painful screams.  My flames had found him in his shadow cloud. 

The goblins’ response was to throw daggers.  Their weapons started flying toward me from every angle.  Because I couldn’t judge where they were coming from, they proved hard to dodge.  At such  close range, the goblins were throwing them at some very sensitive spots. 

I kept firing streams of fire, throwing in a fireball to keep things spicy.  The goblins were-hidden somewhere in a mass of shadow that I couldn’t practically dispel.  I didn’t have the trick of detonating the Fireball midair.  It needed to strike something, and the goblins were doing their best to avoid giving me any opportunity.  Additionally, the act of casting Fireball took several seconds, and I couldn’t hold the spell when it was ready.  I had to cast it.  That meant that several moments where a good shot presented itself were lost.   Meanwhile, shooting fire streams into them was also next to impossible, because they were hidden and not standing still.  All the while, I was getting pelted by daggers. 

“Spell casting in combat sucks,” I growled to Shart. 

Remembering the trick from catching SueLeeta’s arrow, I used my Dodge skill to move slightly out of the way.  I was able to snatch one of their daggers out of the air.  I grinned and shoved it into my bandolier.  Another came and was caught, followed by another. 

“Hey,” called the goblin, “Stop doing that!”

“Stop throwing them at me,” I responded, snatching another dagger out of the air.  I had four now, and I didn’t think they could have many more.

“Quit casting spells at us then,” called the other goblin.  “It's not fair.  Use your dagger!”

“I’ll kill you too quickly if I use my dagger,” I countered. 

“You sadist,” stated one of the Shadows.  It was hard to tell which was which while they were in their shadow forms.

“The God of Shadows will give us strength to kill this monster,” called the other.  Both suddenly appeared on either side of me, slashing with their shortswords.  I dodged around, trying to avoid their strikes.  Wearing my metal armor and dodging was more tiring than I liked.  Furthermore, without a sword or shield to parry, I was getting cut repeatedly.  Every time I was slashed, my Fire Stream spell would sputter out.  The sad fact was that, at my skill level, my bracers were terrible against piercing weapons.  I attempted to block at least two strikes with them.  Each strike slid past the arm protection and struck me in the torso.  

Finally, one of the Shadows landed on my chest and drove a dagger into my shoulder before leaping away.  I was sent tumbling backward onto my backside.  I sat up, shaking my head and groaning.  “Alright, you win.”  I drew my dagger as I stood up. 

Taking one step forward, I held my blade at the ready and motioned for the cloud of shadows to continue.  I felt the air swish behind me as one materialized.  He promptly exploded.  Apparently, he had been unaware of the Flame Ward I’d placed behind me when I was knocked on my ass. 

Flaming chunks of Shadow Goblin splattered all over my back, like thick ketchup.  Again, I smelled the peculiar mixture of skunk and over-fried pork.

“Gross, Jim,” stated Shart.  He was clean due to his insubstantial nature, but he had managed to pluck an eyeball from somewhere.  He was holding it out to me when I glanced in his direction.

“No, thank you.” I told him. 

“Your magic tricks won’t work on me!” cried the final Shadow Goblin.  I checked my Sorcerer experience bar.

I mentally reached out to my last opponent and grabbed hold of his shadowy form.  He resisted and moved to strike at me.  I started pulling at the spell.  As he dodged, I cast another dual Flame Stream.  I began shooting it in erratic patterns through his cloudy form.  No more attacks were forthcoming from him.  He was too busy attempting to keep his shadow form up, while also trying to dodge.  Finally, I managed to catch him. 

As his shadow form failed, I aimed both Fire Streams at him.  The little bastard died screaming. 

“That was brutal,” stated Shart, floating down next to me.

I felt a cut right below my eye.  “Not brutal enough.  Anyway, I just leveled.”

●                    Level Up, Sorcerer 2.

●                    You have gained one perk.

●                    You have not selected your new Barrier configuration.  Please choose in 1 day, or another form will be chosen for you.

●                    Your Hit Point total is increased by 10.  Your Mana is increased by 10.

●                    Your Hit Points have increased, your maximum Hit Points are now 690

●                    Your Stamina remains at 550

●                    Your Mana has increased, your maximum Mana is now 240

For the barrier, I searched my options.  I quickly selected a larger barrier that could be used to protect people standing behind me.  The Mana cost was expensive, but it would allow me to entirely block an area of effect spell, if I could afford it.  

My perk choice was easy, at least.  I searched the list until I found something called “Combat Casting.”  This perk made it harder to disrupt my concentration-based spells, like Fire Stream.  It also made it easier to hold spells in the ready state.  That had been a problem several times when fighting the Shadow Goblins.  

I cast a Fireball, and the small bead of flame popped up on my fingertip.  I wiggled my fingers a bit, but the bead stayed in the same spot.  As I watched, the bead started to grow warm.  After eight seconds, it was warmer than ever.  After another eight, it was hot.  At that point, I decided to shoot it off into the distance.  It exploded in midair a short distance away from me. 

“That might be fun,” I grunted and started sorting through the Shadow Goblins’ stuff.  It was the usual trash for them, except both of them were wearing identical rings.  My Scan skill triggered.

●                    Ring of Spell Stability, a magical ring that improves the stability of a spell you are concentrating on.

“Well, that’s convenient,” I said, taking both rings and putting one on.

“I disagree,” replied Shart.  “Lots of people use concentration for their spells.  Why do you think it was so hard to dispel the Shadow Goblins’ forms this time?”

I looked down at the ring and nodded.  I figured they had learned a skill, but this put a new spin on the situation.  If they could mass produce these rings, then any remaining Shadow Goblins might have them.  That was going to make a hard job even harder. 

The flip side was that, with my Rune Smith perk, I could copy the runes on this ring.  I even hoped to improve upon them.  Looking at them, it was obvious that they were hastily crafted on poor quality materials.  With as shallowly carved as the runes were, it was unlikely they would last more than a few days.  That meant that these were a special present, designed to counter me.  Making a mental note to keep a few ‘blank’ rings handy, I finished my looting.

I continued cutting through the woods, spotting and dispatching several more goblins.  The militia was finally successful in getting the wagon moving again.  A formation is at its highest risk when starting or stopping.  Once they were moving and paying attention, the handful of goblins I’d seen around were not going to be much of a threat. 

Searching for the second wagon was easy enough.  I could see the various flashes of magic in the distance, as Bashara used her skills to blast away at the goblins.  By the time the freed wagon had cleared the forest, I was already heading toward the only remaining battle. 

The Battle Map indicated that several troopers were down, and the wagon had been broken beyond repair.  There were several green icons, representing goblins.  As I glanced through the map, I didn’t understand how the three Adventurers couldn’t support the militia.  When I got close, I realized my mistake. 

Goblins and trolls are both green on my Battle Map.

A single massive troll was beset on each side.  To its left was Sir Dalton; to its right was Fenris.  It was as large as the one I had fought on the other side of the gate, a hulking brute with massive fangs and cords of muscle.  The creature was obviously injured but still doing its best to break past the Warden.  Fenris was keeping most of its attention.  Sir Dalton was swinging his massive electrically charged two-handed sword into the creature’s side with abandon. 

Bashara was, meanwhile, engaged with a dozen other goblins.  The twelve were trying to stop her from casting spells which was incidentally saving the large troll.  Badgelor was lurching forward and occasionally tearing one down, but their constant attacks had caused the badger to go into a frenzy. 

Dozens more goblins were engaged with the rest of the militia and Sir Dalton’s relief forces, as well as several other trolls that had wandered onto the field.  There were more enemy bodies on the ground than injured men, but, overall, the battle seemed poised on a razor’s edge. The goblins and trolls were both also fighting each other, but, sadly, their forces were slowly focusing on the human adventurers. 

“For Windfall,” I announced, dimming my eyes back to normal.  For the cry to work, I had to be seen.  That didn’t mean I needed to be glowing like a Christmas tree with this many enemies about. 

●                    War Leader Skill: Rallying Cry 3 activated.  All targets in the local area are selected.

Instantly, the surviving militia rallied, driving deep into the hostile forces.  That wasn’t the only effect of the power, though.  Troops who were bleeding out and dying suddenly stood up.  Those that had healing potions began drinking them.  The entire battle around our forces changed. 

The effects continued to Fenris and Sir Dalton, as well.   Fenris suddenly rushed forward with tremendous speed, slamming his shield into the troll and knocking it off balance.  The action allowed Sir Dalton to bring his two-handed sword down on the creature’s neck in one powerful overhead chop.  The severed head went sailing through the air, and the Troll collapsed to the ground.  Fenris pulled out a pouch of something and threw the smoking contents into the creature’s neck hole.  Then, he hunkered down behind his shield.  A small gout of flame seared the neck stump shut, killing the creature.

I rushed toward Badgelor.  A second large troll appeared, attempting to blindside the badger.  It was much smaller than the gargantuan troll that Sir Dalton and Fenris had fought, but it was still over nine feet tall.    Badgelor turned, snarling at the beast.  He took a massive club to his gut for the effort.  The attack caused the badger’s thick claws to sink into the dirt, but he was not overcome.  He was also not overly impressed, either.  He dove on top of the troll and bore him to the ground. 

I halted my progress to Badgelor, seeing that Bashara had been knocked from his back.  She stood slowly, shaking her head from the rough landing.  Two goblins closed with her.  I prepared a Fire Bolt, but I needn't have bothered.  She flicked her fingers in a gesture I recognized.  Suddenly, both goblins turned and began jabbing their weapons into each other. 

“She has mental magic,” I said to myself, pondering the point.  “I wonder if she’s used that on anyone else before?  I wonder if she’s used that on me before?”

                 Your skill in Mental Resistance is higher than your skill in Resist Fear.  Resist Fear will be absorbed into Mental Resistance.  All skill points will be applied to Mental Resistance.

                You have increased your rank in Mental Resistance.  You are now Journeyman.  Due to earning most of your skill points in Mental Resistance from resisting Mine Corrupting attacks, you have been granted the Improved Mental Fortress Perk.  

                Improved Mental Fortress: Your mind is built like a great fortress against mental attacks, woe be the person who attempt to breech your walls.  Costs to affect you with mental magic are doubled or the effectiveness halved.    

                 You have resisted a Mental attack check: You are a Journeyman at Mental Resistance.

“THAT BITCH!”

It hit me all at once.  She hadn’t just been using mental magic on me.  She’d been using it on me all the time.  I couldn’t think of a single encounter where she hadn’t used mental magic, including all the encounters where I specifically told her not to use any magic on me. 

“What is wrong with you?” yelled Shart into my ear, as I stared at Bashara.

“Bashara has been using mental magic on me,” I screamed back mentally.  “How did I not know this?”

“What, like, why didn’t you receive prompts?” asked Shart dryly.  “If you got a prompt about mental magic whenever it was successfully used on you, it would be pretty obvious who was doing it, right?”

“She used it on me all the time!” I exclaimed.

“It's like your Stealth skill.  If you sneaked past someone, and that person got a Perception failed notification, they would know that someone was sneaking nearby.  The <system> doesn’t send out alerts for those kinds of skills,” explained Shart, glancing over at Bashara. 

“She could be part of some sinister, worldwide organization trying to bring about the rebirth of the Dark Overlord,” I said.

Shart slapped me.  “Every Wizard uses their magic to give themselves an advantage.  She’s probably just a scared, low-level Wizard, trying to get by using whatever abilities she possesses.  For her, that includes Mental Magic.  The odds that you are special enough to merit a secret organization’s involvement are pretty low.”

When I said my fear out loud, I realized how insane it sounded.  I’d asked her about the Dark Overlord before, and she’d denied it pretty strongly.  Then again, she might have been lying.  Of course, everyone basically laughed when I mentioned the Dark Overlord.  Shart was probably correct. 

A woman traveling with an unknown male and his psychotic badger was going to try every trick in the book to keep her virtue intact.  I really should have expected nothing less, considering when we met, I had beaten her in battle and taken her prisoner.  Bashara was just a Wizard trying to get by in a weird world.  That made much more sense than the alternative. 

My reverie was broken when the troll managed to get Badgelor onto his back.  The foul creature was driving a sharp hunk of wood into my badger’s gut repeatedly.  Focusing my magic, I blasted both of them with a dual Fireball.  The troll jumped back in flames, while Badgelor’s near immunity to my magic caused him to feel a warm blast of air.

I got closer and fired off a dual Flame Stream at the troll.  Now that Badgelor wasn’t being beaten, he was free to tear the troll apart.  The same effect that had allowed the goblin to hurt me when I’d engulfed him did wonders to help Badgelor now.  With his Damage Resistance perks, I didn’t have to worry about targeting the spells overmuch.  I just fired at anything that moved, while the badger tore into the no longer regenerating troll. 

Despite this, the battle still took over a minute.  By the time it was completed, Badgelor was covered in wounds.

●                    Level Up, Sorcerer 3.

●                    You have gained one perk  

●                    Your Hit Point total is increased by 10.  Your Mana is increased by 10.

●                    Your Hit Points have increased, your maximum Hit Points is now 700

●                    Your Stamina remains at 550

●                    Your Mana has increased, your maximum Mana is now 250

I searched through the perks and spotted Dragon Scales.  It appeared to be a general defensive perk, like my boringly named Resistance perk.  Dragon Scales granted me general resistance to magical Damage.  Given that Resistance had been enormously useful, I decided to select Dragon Scales.   

“Took you long enough,” grumbled the badger.  “I had him, though.  I didn’t really need the help.”

I looked around.  Fenris and Sir Dalton had gotten the militia back in order and were withdrawing from the forest.  We’d suffered a handful of deaths amongst the piles of goblin and troll corpses.  Fenris waved to me, and I looked over to Badgelor.

“Where is Bashara?”

“Ah hell, Pillow,” said the badger, walking over to where Bashara had been.  The goblin corpses were still there, but there was no sign of the Wizard.  As the badger sniffed, my Tracking skill fired off.  Two Shadow Goblins had been here, watching the battle.  For whatever reason, they had decided not to participate. 

I didn’t see how two Shadow Goblins could have managed to take Bashara, but their tracks got much deeper right around where she had been standing.  Badgelor shrunk down and held up what looked like a small shriveled walnut.

“What is that?” I asked.

“Troll scrotum.  It's good chewing,” stated Badgelor.  He sniffed it several times before driving his nose into the dirt.  He stayed like that for a long moment before violently shaking himself.  “The earth is smeared with sleeping potion.  Wizards aren’t known for their physical resistance.  If that hit her, she’d be knocked out cold.”

In less than a minute, the undefended Wizard had been captured.  I wasn’t sure about my feelings concerning her manipulations, but I wasn’t sure she deserved to be held captive by goblins.

SueLeeta appeared next to me.  She was walking with a slight limp, and her side was covered in blood.  “Jim, I sent off our messenger and stalled them as long as I could.  There are enemy reinforcements coming.  We need to pull back.”

“They captured Bashara,” I said dryly.

“Oh no, how terrible,” said SueLeeta with the most sincere expression a woman could muster.

Chapter 58: It Took Two Strong Men

We had lost three people.  Deaths always hit me hard, because my plan was responsible for the dead.  The troops weren’t particularly upset, however.  If anything, they had been overwhelmed by how effective our strategy had been.  We might have lost a few men, but the goblins and trolls had paid very heavily for those kills. 

The northern wall was defended, and the many small fires in the woods were petering out.  All in all, it had been a very successful engagement in the cold calculus of war.  I checked the map to ensure our fresh scouts were in position and decided there wasn’t anything else I could do at the moment. 

Walking through the field hospital, I found Jarra the Healer plying her trade.  She was treating the cuts and bruises that were not worthy of a healing potion.  She spotted me but did not approach.  I wasn’t surprised.  Despite my comprehensive injuries, I was in much better shape, hit point wise, than anyone else here. 

With my last batch of level ups, I was pushing a maximum of 660 Hit Points.  While I was down to only 456 of 660, I was healing rapidly.  I recovered ten times faster than a normal person, due to my Demonic Bond.  That translated to a whopping 10 Hit Points every twenty-four minutes.  That number increased when Badgelor was nearby and uninjured.  Chewing on a piece of healroot vastly expanded that, and I had a pouch full of the stuff. 

In fact, almost everyone around looked like they were chewing. 

I scanned my companions to see who could help me find Bashara.  The results were poor.  Sir Dalton and Fenris were both in the field hospital dealing with injuries sustained from their troll fight.  They had only just managed to hold him at bay.  If not for my timely battle cry, their results could have been far different.

Cursing myself, I walked toward one of the campfires.  I hadn’t put Bashara into the Order of Battle, so she wasn’t listed anywhere on my maps.  Badgelor and I were not up to the task of chasing her down in the dark in a forest swarming with goblins and trolls.  Badgelor, in particular, had suffered more than a few injuries in his troll fighting.  He was currently in his travel size, snoring loudly on my shoulder. 

Someone was telling a tale by the fire, as I cut through the men to find a seat.  It was a tale of a god-born salamander avatar ridden by loggers.  It didn’t make much sense, but a whole bunch of gnomes died in the end.  That seemed to make everyone happy.

SueLeeta was adjusting her lyre.  Several other Windfallians had acquired instruments and were playing something that sounded a bit naughty about inspecting some girl’s gadgets.  The symphony being played was a cacophony of noise, in so far as I could tell, but everyone was in good spirits.

I plopped down next to SueLeeta as she finished tuning her instrument.  “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in going out to find Bashara?”

SueLeeta side-eyed me before returning her attention to her instrument.  “I think I’ve been enough of an errand girl for you.  I delivered your messenger.  The goblins and trolls are barely on speaking terms.

“Hopefully, they don’t make peace before tomorrow,” I said, wondering about Bashara, as well as the enemy.

“She’s crafty.  If nothing else, she’ll figure out a way to survive,” stated SueLeeta grudgingly.  “I don’t much like her, but she’s not going to get killed by a bunch of goblins.”  With that, she strummed a cord on her lyre. 

“Ouch,” yelled someone.  Everyone else laughed. 

“Mr Mayor, someone’s throwing rocks.  Tell them that’s not polite,” called out one of the militia members.

Jim the Curious Puppy was known to take his manners very seriously.  Jim the Mayor didn’t usually like the comparison, but manners made the man.  I responded, “Mind your manners!”

“Sorry Daddy, I’ve been naughty,” called out most of the women.  Everyone laughed again.  In the books, the little girl would yell that to her father after the lesson had been taught.  I did my best not to blush.  That was one of my wife’s favorite lines, for an entirely different reason. 

Though it was hard to tell under all the armor, the ratio of males to females in my army was about 60/40.  I asked why it wasn’t 50/50, and Jarra said something to the effect of “all things being equal, women are just less fond of the blood and guts of war.”  That thought panned out.  I had more female archers and fewer female melee types, despite them having functionally identical stats. 

The laughter died down, and SueLeeta began strumming her lute again.  Within seconds, someone else yelled “ouch”.  The chuckling was much less this time, so SueLeeta continued playing.  Then came a second “ouch,” then a third. 

SueLeeta stopped abruptly as a rock slapped into my hand.  I’d caught it just inches from her face.  I spotted another rock flying toward a larger pile of rocks.  As the music died down, the stone suddenly lost momentum and fell to the ground.  I strummed the strings with one finger, and nothing happened.  When I gestured for SueLeeta to resume playing, rocks started lifting from the ground all around me.  They all began flying toward the massive pile of rubble in the center of the encampment. 

I activated my Scan skill and looked at the lute again.  I already knew it was a magical item of some sort, but now I could feel its knowledge clawing at the back of my brain. 

“It's like a Lyre of Building or something,” I said, harkening back to my old Dungeons and Dragons days.

“What’s that?” asked SueLeeta.  “I’m pretty sure this is just a regular old Lyre.  If it's supposed to be some sort of crazy magical implement, it would be a Lute of Reconstruction.”

●                    Scan Skill Successful.  You have discovered a Lute of Reconstruction.

●                    Lute of Reconstruction: Used to repair buildings, translates the playing skill of the user into a Repair Crew skill at a rank of 50 BP, per skill level.  Accompanists will further increase the BP being generated.

●                    Your rank in Stringed Instruments is Unskilled.

“SueLeeta, what is your skill level in Stringed Instruments?” I asked.

“I just hit Journeyman.  Why do you ask?” she responded.

We cleared the area and posted lookouts for the stray bits of rock.  SueLeeta started playing.  Instead of stopping a few seconds in, she kept going, playing a whole song.  The results were immediately notable.  First, the small rocks started picking up.  The medium-sized and larger stones followed.  All flew toward the castle ruins. 

The truly remarkable thing was when the entire pile started to quiver.  Massive slabs of stone seemed to melt back together to form whole stones again.  By the start of the second song, the instrument’s strings were glowing a pale blue color.  The entire pile of rocks was making some rather thrilling noises.  It sounded like an avalanche.

I checked the build menu and quickly discovered what was happening.  No matter how impressive the instrument was, it was not capable of remaking the castle in an hour.  Checking the build numbers, I saw that it would still take around twenty days for the structure to be completed, at 200 build points a day.  It did not, however, look like SueLeeta needed to play the instrument all day.  With my magical vision, I could tell the instrument would run out of Mana in only two or three hours.  It would then require over twenty hours to recover. 

The backup band that had been performing by the fire joined in on the fourth song.  That quickly boosted the effectiveness of the instrument by 50%, as long as they continued playing decently. 

With that surprising development underway, I decided it was time to handle the issue I had been putting off.  I began walking to the field hospital.  I found Jarra the Healer sitting tiredly, the final patient having been tended to.  I hoped she had enjoyed her short moment of reprieve. 

“What’s going on?” she asked, a shy smile breaking her smudged face.  If it hadn’t been for all the gore, she would have been picture perfect in that moment.

“Check that out,” stated Shart approvingly, “I think the guts and gore really bring out the highlights in her hair.”

“I need your help,” I said ignoring the demon and dreading what had to be done.

“Of course,” she replied, moving closer to me.

“I’ll need to get my armor off,” I said tiredly.  Shart gave me a double thumbs up. 

Jarra stopped, inhaling sharply before looking around.  We were in a medical tent, which was just about the only place one could get any privacy in the whole camp.  “Well, I mean, I’d be happy to help.  It's just that this is kind of sudden.”  That didn’t stop her from starting to undo the leather straps holding to the side of my armor.  Well, she undid the straps on one side.  “That’s odd.  Your armor seems to be on quite well, despite most of the straps on this side being burned off.”

“I think it's stuck,” I said, flexing my hand in my metal gauntlet.  Jarra ordered me to sit down on the nearby bench, so she could get the back of my armor off more easily.

“Whatever do you mean?” asked Jarra, grabbing the back of my scale mail and pulling.  The sound of wet vinyl tile being pulled off a floor filled the air.  I flinched violently.  “Oh, Jim, it's really on there,” she gasped.  “I’m just going to call for OttoSherman.”

●                    You have suffered 43 points of Damage from removing your armor.

●                    You are missing 7% of your skin.  This wound will take 28 Hit Points to recover.

“Whelp, I’m out,” stated Shart staring open mouthed at my back. 

After a moment, OttoSherman came over.  “I hurried over as soon as you said I’d get to strip someone.  Oh. . .no.”

I heard someone throwing up and some whispered conversation.  Then, Jarra called, “Fenris, come over here, please!”

Fenris walked over, leaving Sir Dalton telling a fantastic tale about how the two of them, but mostly Dalton, killed the troll.  “Ah, another fatality.  I didn’t realize anyone else was that badly injured.”

“It's the mayor.  His armor is stuck,” stated Jarra.

“The mayor is dead?” he cried out, walking in front of me.  He looked deeply into my eyes. He blinked several times as I glared at him.  “The mayor isn’t dead.  How is he not dead?”

“I don’t know,” replied Jarra whimpering.  “It just pulled free when I took the armor off.”

“His back has no skin!” Fenris exclaimed.

“I’m fine,” I growled through the pain, “Let's just get this over with.”

“Well, he has plenty of Hit Points.  Let’s just peel off the sleeves and see how that goes,” stated Fenris.  I stuck out my arm and continued glaring.

First, he removed my gauntlets, the first of which popped right off with ease.  “See no worries.”  The second gauntlet was a bit more difficult.  After the third or fourth tug, Fenris placed his foot on my chest and gave it a mighty pull, causing the gauntlet to pop off.

●                    You have suffered 29 points of Damage.

●                    You are missing 10% of your skin.  This wound will take 35 Hit Points to recover.

I inhaled sharply.  I was up to an eight or nine on the pain scale through my Iron Will.  It was a bad day.

“I’ll have a Blacksmith get this pus coated skin out for you,” stated Fenris, swallowing hard.  “Let's get those bracers and sleeves off.  The bracers were magical and came off easily.  The sleeves were made to intentionally be loose.  Jarra was able to pry them off carefully. 

The Healer began smearing ointments all over my back and hands afterward, causing the wounds to partially seal up.  I was content that nothing would get infected.  She looked on in horror at my finger, but I just ignored it.  The appendage would heal up within the hour.  “Well, all that’s left is the pants,” she sighed.

I stood up and dropped them.  After a slow, maximum painful moment where individual scales tugged free, the garment fell to the ground in a heap.  That left only my reinforced codpiece in place. 

“It appears you got lucky,” stated Fenris calmly.  “The damage to your legs is minor.  Strange, though,” he said, nodding at my groin.  “My codpiece sits in my pants and comes down when I remove them.”

“So does mine!” I said, hissing. 

“That is most unfortunate,” said Fenris, in the greatest understatement of his stupid life.

The tent was private, which was good.  Within a minute, I was holding onto a tent pole for dear life, while Fenris tugged with all his strength.  “I think it's coming.”

“It is not coming,” I replied.

Jarra the Healer appeared with a stick and tried to pry part of my scrotum off the metal plate.  The whole purpose of a codpiece is to protect my bits.  To say that it had failed would be a colossal understatement. 

“This isn’t’ working,” stated Jarra.  “Whenever I pry it off, it seems to almost regenerate into the metal.  We need to jerk it off completely.”

“I’m using both hands, and I can’t jerk it off at all,” stated Fenris as he pulled and twisted.

“Knock knock,” said Sir Dalton, striding into the tent with a mocking tone.  “I hear someone has a boo bo. . .oh, no.”  With that, Sir Dalton stepped back out of the tent. 

“Asshole,” I growled.  “Jarra, fetch a scalpel.  Maybe we can cut it free.”

“What is the ‘it’ you are referring to?” asked Fenris, looking more alarmed than I had ever seen him. 

“I dunno,” responded Jarra the Healer.  “The metal warped slightly.  I’m afraid I’ll have to cut parts you are going to want to keep.”

“It will need to be a magical scalpel,” stated Fenris, finally giving up.  “His skin is enormously tough. I think the only reason those other parts came off is because we could apply sufficient force, but down there it all spread out and cooked onto the metal plate.”

“What kind of sick goblin would do that to a person?” yelled Sir Dalton from outside the tent.  His voice sounded overcome by the horror of it.

“Maybe we could get Badgelor to pull on it in his largest size?” suggested Fenris.

“I’d tear it off,” stated the sleepy badger, “You’d want someone a bit more delicate or you are going to do some real damage.”  He turned his head from the commotion and resumed snoring.

Jarra the Healer fretted for a moment while there was a loud commotion outside.

Sir Dalton stepped back into the tent, gobbling down many eggs.  He tossed Fenris his shield.  “No, Fenris, my friend.  When there is a job to do, the more hands, the better.”

“Just like the troll,” stated Fenris, strapping the shield to his arm. 

“What do you mean ‘just like the troll’?” I asked.  Sir Dalton reached down and grabbed me by the cup.  Idly, I thought he looked much larger than when I last saw him.  He had just eaten at least a dozen eggs, and he was roughly the size of a barge.  

“It means, Jim, that I’ll work the front and Fenris will work the back.  At the climax, this thing will be coming off,” stated Sir Dalton.  My horror expanded as his hand squeezed my codpiece.  The metal began to buckle slightly under the pressure.

“For the forest!” yelled Fenris.  He lurched toward me dramatically.  My combat reflexes kicked in.  I attempted to dodge reflexively, only to be stopped by Sir Dalton’s titan grip.  The next moment, Fenris had struck me full force with his Shield Rush, and Sir Dalton had pulled in the opposite direction. 

I went flying from the room screaming, a wet popping sound echoing out of the tent.  I rolled several times, completely naked, before coming to a stop next to OttoSherman. 

“It's bleeding everywhere!” yelled Jarra the Healer, rushing to get her medical bag.

Fenris was too quick for her, however.  He came charging out of the tent with a handful of cauterization powder and threw it into the wound.  There was a loud puffing noise, followed by many, many gasps.  Thankfully, I lost consciousness before I could look around at the captive audience. 

Chapter 59: Why Wait?

I woke up the next morning just before dawn.  Someone had built a tent over me rather than attempt to move me.  Badgelor had crawled onto my chest and was still slightly kneading me when I awoke.  Thankfully, my Resistance perk prevented that from causing any real damage. 

Lifting him off and setting him to the side, I yawned and rolled out of the hut.  I checked my Hit Points and saw that I was up to 700/700.  Having Shart as a familiar had many negatives, but the Regeneration wasn’t something that could be easily ignored. 

“Latrine is that way,” said OttoSherman with a grin.  “Here are some underwear to put on under your armor.  You really should wear some.”

Technically, I had been wearing some.  They had just burned off.  I thanked him anyway and started tying on the clothes.  I groggily stumbled toward the pisser, when someone shoved a mug of something warm and sweet smelling into my hands.  I took a sip.

●                    You have consumed WakeUpJuice.  Your Stamina is maxed.  Your Mana is maxed.  All mental status effects are removed.

I had found Ordinal’s version of coffee.  Well, no, I had found Ordinal’s version of cocaine.  The good kind, too.  I was so awake that I could see sound.  I brought up the Battle Map and started putting on my pants.

SueLeeta had left in the night and was currently scouting the goblins’ positions.  Because she was in my Table of Command as a scout, I got real time feedback from her. It’s a shame I can’t communicate with her.  Then, I noticed that the War Leader talent was flashing in the corner of my vision.

Slapping on the rest of my underclothes, I brought up the War Leader talent and found that I’d earned another rank in the skill.  I also had a few more War Points to spend on upgrades.  There were hundreds of War talents, so it took me a while of searching before I gave up.

“It's a shame I can’t find what I’m looking for,” I said mentally.

“What nonsense are you looking for?” replied Shart harshly while clearly looking away from me. 

“What’s bothering you?” I growled.

“I could see your insides,” stated Shart, shaking slightly.  “It was very disconcerting.” 

I snorted, “I figured you were tougher than that.”

“Do you want me to describe what Jarra had to do to repair your penis?” asked Shart. 

I did not.

“I need some sort of communication War Leader talent,” I said, dropping the previous conversation.

“You searched for them and couldn’t find them?” asked the demon.  He waited a whole three seconds before continuing.  “You don’t know how to search for them, do you?”

“No,” I grumbled.  The talents were all interconnected to the War Leader talent by what amounted to virtual strings.  The interface was fully 3d, and there were thousands of options. 

“Focus on the center, then concentrate on what you want to look for,” stated Shart.  “Before you say anything, Focusing and Concentration are different.  How do I translate this to stupid?  Oh, wait, I know.  One is holding a sweet roll, the other is actually eating it.”

I’d have described it more like reading off a page of paper, but as I focused on the talent and began to think about ranged communication, some of the orbs lit up.  I found the longest chain of them and examined one.

●                    Battlefield Communication (Rank 1): You are able to remotely communicate with any officer listed in your Table of Command, as long as they are on the same battlefield as you.

Finally, something that sounded super interesting and helpful.  Checking to ensure that SueLeeta was still on the board, I selected the talent and tried to mentally communicate with her.  Within moments, I’d locked onto her mind.  It felt similar to the connection with Shart, whenever I was communicating with him.

“SueLeeta, what’s going on?” I asked.

“Holy shit, Jim!  I didn't even hear you coming,” stated SueLeeta in a harsh whisper.  “Grebthar’s beard, where are you hiding?”

“I’m communicating with you telepathically, “I replied, feeling smug.

“Don’t get smug,” stated SueLeeta.  “Fine, you have telepathy.  I’m looking at the goblins and the trolls right now.  They are talking to each other and not killing anyone.  Even Bashara, who the goblins have captured right now.  Also, the Wargs are all here, including Kappa.”

“Has Kappa seen you?” I asked.

“No, and the goblins don’t know any better.  He just looks like another Warg to them.”

“What do you think they are doing?” I asked.

“If I had to guess, making peace with each other so they can come on us like a flood,” stated SueLeeta.  “The goblins can take the trolls as long as they have their Wargs, and the Wargs don’t look like they are leaving anytime soon.”

I brought up the Battle Map and briefly considered my options.  The two armies had met in a reasonably open area with the forest nearby.  If I could provoke them into fighting each other, we could probably mop up both forces easily enough. 

“Where is Bashara?” I asked.  SueLeeta brought her up on the map.  “This is going to be close.  I’ll be there soon.”

“I don’t think you have a lot of time.  From what I can catch of the conversation, they seem to be arguing about who gets what after we are all dead,” stated SueLeeta.  “When they figure that out, they are going to come for us.  ”

I broke off communication and went to the command area.  Sir Dalton was scribbling something on a map, and Fenris was talking to Zorlando.  Jarra the Healer was also there and was the first to notice me, as I walked in wearing my leather armor. 

“Mayor Jim,” she said softly, “I want you to understand that even with your new injuries, I’m still not going to think of you any differently.”

I was wondering what she meant when OttoSherman rushed by.  “He’s healed,” the Lumberjack stated.  Sir Dalton turned to face me, his eyes wide.

“Thank the gods,” whispered Jarra the Healer.

“Everything?” Sir Dalton yelled after OttoSherman.

“It was magical,” responded OttoSherman.

Sir Dalton flipped Fenris a gold coin.  “I thought you were kidding when you said. . . well, anyway.”

“Har har,” I stated, walking to the board.  The map was updated with the new information from SueLeeta.  The two armies were still nearly touching.  The troll and goblin commanders stood in the middle. 

“They seek to unify against us,” I said without preamble. 

Fenris nodded.  It was one of our contingencies.  Sir Dalton growled, “We should take the fight to them first.  Give them a bloody nose before the main fight starts.”

“I agree,” I stated.

“You may not appreciate the tactical situation-” started Sir Dalton, before cutting off, “You agree?”

“Yes, and if we’re lucky, we are going to end this war in one stroke,” I said. 

Chapter 60: Dalton in Command

Sir Dalton was in command of my ground forces.  I considered that point, as I raced through the woods toward SueLeeta.  I felt like I had given a hormonally challenged teenager a shotgun in a shooting range.  The plan wasn’t complex, as far as plans went.  If it looked like the goblins and trolls were going to ally, the army would strike them hard while they were out of position.  Then, we would withdraw back to the castle. 

That initial strike wouldn’t kill them, but, if we did enough damage, it might make them more cautious.  When they followed us to the castle, they would appear at a point that was advantageous to our archers.  I personally doubted a defensive fight on our terms would make much of a difference against the forces arrayed against us if they came in united, but, then again, my goal was to change that. 

“I don’t like this,” stated Shart, attached via his gross method to my right shoulder.  “You are taking a bunch of risks to yourself for no real advantages.  We could slink away, and no one would be the wiser.  Not until it was far too late.”

“You wouldn’t know heroic if it bit you on yer ass,” grumbled Badgelor, riding my left shoulder.  “I don’t see the need for sneaking around, though.  Let’s just find the biggest one there and start cracking skulls.”

I sent a mental pulse to SueLeeta, letting her know I was there.  Getting into position, I saw the armies with my own eyes.  Whatever was left of the goblin force had made it into this clearing to parley with the trolls.  There was a small creek between the two sides, and their respective leaders were meeting on either side of its banks.  Behind them, both armies were arrayed in ragtag lots, with the goblins being the more orderly of the two. 

At the rear of both armies were their respective VIP’s.  On the troll’s side were several Shamen and a few truly large specimens of trollhood.  The goblins had a smaller area set aside for their VIP’s.  Bashara, along with several other nasty looking goblins, were there.  I brought up my Goblin Heroes quest.  It confirmed my suspicions.  Every single one of their remaining Heroes was in that clearing. 

I caught sight of Dur’Ick’Mick.  He appeared in a mass of shadows next to a Weird Sister I didn’t recognize.  A moment later, he was back in the center with the other leaders.  Bashara was bound, but otherwise looked unharmed.  Even from here, I could tell the knots were sloppy. 

With my amulet, my Stealth, and my Shadow Walking perk, I was next to invisible as I left the forest.  I began sneaking toward Bashara.  The goblins were all focused forward, and I was coming at them from behind.  My army would have placed scouts, but my army wasn’t lazy.  The goblins were.  Any goblin scouts I had ever encountered were just as likely to be asleep as looking out for me. 

The two massive figures in the middle were a nine-foot-tall goblin, who was so obese that I was amazed he could walk, and a 14-foot-tall troll that was so rail thin that he looked comical next to the goblin. 

“Did he get tortured on a rack or something?” pondered Badgelor.

“Bad luck chasing horses, maybe,” said Shart.

“You think he caught one, and it yanked him skinny?” I asked.

“Yeah, and then the goblin ate it,” replied Badgelor. 

I began creeping around the outer edge of the battlefield to get to Bashara.  As I did so, I used Lore on the large goblin leader. 

●                    Ben’Jam’Mo: Goblin Boss: Level 19

●                    Hit Points: 1857/1900

●                    Stamina: 445/450

●                    Mana: 80/80

●                    War Leader: Rank 6

●                    Perks: Massive Size, Massive Size 2, Unearthly Strength, Titan’s Grip, Shadow Step.

●                    Goblin Bosses rule goblin clans with an iron fist.  These creatures are powered by ancient Shamanistic rites that grant them improved powers over normal goblins.  As a boss, they gain access to boss tier perks.

“Holy shit, that’s a big goblin,” I whispered, all novelty out of my voice.   

“Bosses are the toughest of any group of creatures,” stated Shart.

“I thought the troll I fought on the castle wall was a boss?” I questioned.

“Please,’ replied Shart, “He was a sub-boss, and a weak one at that.  Trolls just have tons of Hit Points.”

The massive troll, level 19 and named Nick the Apathetic, stood unmoving as Ben’Jam’Mo continued talking at it.  The two were not fighting, but they weren’t agreeing on all points, either.  I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing but figured it was better to play it safe. 

“What do you think the odds are?” I asked, as I ducked behind the last patrol at the rear of the army.  They had missed me, but there wasn’t enough cover now to make Stealth anything but a chore.  The eye icon that showed if I was hidden had partially opened a dozen times now.   

“She’s pretty good at Mental spells,” stated Shart, as he watched Bashara calmly.

“How many do you think she knows?” I asked.  I could feel something in the back of my mind trying to click.

“Don’t know.  I usually don’t pay much attention to anyone but you,” replied Shart slowly.  “She might only know that one spell, but I’d guess that’s only her main focus.  I’ll watch her next time and figure it out.”

It was the idle conversation that happened right before you committed to something, and I was close now.  “I kind of need to know now, Shart,” I said, placing Badgelor on the ground next to me.  He started tunneling instantly. 

Shart considered for a moment.  He looked at me and whistled.  “She’s cast more than one spell on you, Dum Dum.”  He concentrated for a moment and then frowned.  “She’s cast a bunch of low-level spells on you.  I guess if you don’t have quality, you go for quantity.”

I felt the demon tremble slightly and suddenly a pulse of energy blasted out of him.  For the barest of moments, I was visible, as my Shadow Walker perk failed.  Just as suddenly as I was revealed, I was hidden again.  Thankfully, Shart had picked a moment when I had some cover.  Otherwise, the goblins might have spotted me.

“What did you see?” I asked anxiously, searching the area for goblins.  I was going to have to move quickly. 

“She’s heavily warded,” stated Shart, his fingers twitching as he tried to power his spell.  “I can’t be sure.”

The fact that it was a challenge for Shart was enough to make me confident that she could do it.  If not, this was going to be the shortest offensive of all time.  “Badgelor, get ready.”

Badgelor had been digging behind me.  It made him hard to spot and gave me a hidden surprise, if I needed one.  I did now, and the ground next to me began to swell as he expanded to his full size.  This was going to require just the right amount of Stealth.

The goblins had formed a perimeter around Bashara and one Weird Sister.  Bashara was bound and looked to be led around by a leash.  The Weird sister was unknown to me, but she fit the dimensions required for my plan.  I just needed to be quick about it.

Slipping past the last guard, I manifested out of the shadows, breaking my Stealth.  I grabbed the Weird Sister by her neck.  She tried to scream but didn’t have time.  I constricted her throat while preparing to use my Dodgeball skill.  With one clean motion, I flung her right at Badgelor.  He opened his mouth to catch his treat, and both vanished underground. 

I crept over to Bashara, who was just coming to grips with the fact that the Weird Sister was missing.  I used Lore on her, despite the creepy stare it gave me, and saw her status sheet. 

●                    Bashara, Wizard 15

●                    Hit Points 42/160

●                    Stamina: 35/50

●                    Mana: 92/240

●                    Other information is hidden by an anti-scrying spell

“Come on,” I stated, grabbing her by the shoulder and leading her back the way I had come. 

“Jim,” she gasped, wide-eyed.  She grabbed my arm, and I knew instantly that my Mental Resistance ability had kicked off.  Even now, she was trying to enchant me.  I let go of her, causing her to fall back on her ass.

“None of that,” I stated, glaring down at her.  “I figured out your little trick.  Stop casting spells on me, or I’ll leave you here.”

Her eyes got even wider at the accusation.  Then, she began to stammer.  “I’m sorry, Jim,” she said through trembling lips.  “I just didn’t know you very well, and I was so scared.  I didn’t know what you were going to do to me.  It's just a habit, I swear.  I’ll never do it to you again.  I promise!”

I looked deeply into her eyes for a long moment.

●                    Sense Motive, figure out if this skill exists

“She has some sort of contact enchantment already active,” whispered Shart.  He was missing from my shoulder but was close by.  “I don’t recognize the exact spell, but I know the effects.  If you touch her, you become charmed.  It makes you less likely to hurt her.”

Might be why the goblins didn’t kill her.  I didn’t like it, but I could keep her on a short leash.  I still didn't want to leave her at the mercy of the goblins.  Those guys were absolute bastards. 

“Can you make the troll boss and the goblin boss fight?” I asked, as I unceremoniously lifted her into my arms.  She nearly cooed, until I threw her over my shoulder and kept moving closer to the ground.  Being carried in the arms of your rescuer was romantic but being carried like a sack of potatoes was not. 

“I don’t know,” stated Bashara.  I saw her holding out her hand and looking at it.  “Are we Shadowmelded?”

“Yes,” I replied, weighing my options as we headed toward the bosses.  She hadn’t said no.  Time was going to be short here. 

Behind me, in the center of the ring, a large patch of earth rose up and collapsed.  Many of the goblins began to look around.  That actually helped me.  It took any searching eyeballs off me and my payload. 

Unfortunately, two of the sets of eyeballs were from the bosses.  They were pacing next to each other, neither one ever relaxing their stance.  It was like watching two fighting dogs standing in the same room, ready to go at each other at any moment. 

The distraction caused me to misstep, and I got too close to one of the Wargs.  It glared at me for a moment, my Stealth indicator showing that I’d been spotted.  I tensed, but the Warg looked away.  I continued moving and remembered to breath some time later. 

“You get the eastern territory.  I get the northern reaches, and we can both loot the town,” stated Ben’Jam’Mo in an even tone.  I thought it sounded like he was having some difficulty trying to control his voice.

Nick the Apathetic just responded with, “Meh.”

“Fine!  I’ll give you the girl, if that’s what it takes,” growled the goblin.

The massive troll looked around, almost straight at me.  “Sure, I guess.”

“How much closer?” I growled, as I crept ever nearer to the two bosses.  The sounds from behind me were getting louder, and a small wisp of dark power exploded from the ground. 

“I can’t even see!  You are carrying me over your damn shoulder,” growled Bashara.  I flipped her back into my arms, and her eyes went wide.  “Not this close, you idiot!”

Her hands flew into a configuration that I’d seen her use before.  It was an almost natural position, so much so that if I didn’t know she was casting a spell, I wouldn’t have suspected it.

She completed the gestures just as the two bosses moved to shake hands.  Their truce was almost ratified.  If this didn’t work, Windfall was well and truly fucked.  At the last movement of the Wizard’s fingers, both the troll and the goblin looked confused.

“Hey, let me show you something,” stated Nick the Apathetic.  In one fluid motion, his club was off his shoulder.  He slammed it straight into Ben’Jam’Mo’s head.  The troll didn’t get off clean, though, as the goblin’s dagger had torn a chunk from his gut.

There was a long moment of absolute calm and quiet.  The eerie silence was broken by the mighty war cries of both armies, as they charged each other.  Bashara and I were between the goblin army and the creek.  A few moments ago, our spot was relatively clear of enemies.  Now, it was about to be chock full of them. 

“What’s your exit plan?” Bashara asked.  I dragged Bashara behind some cover, a thin patch of reeds that looked just perfect for being trampled to death in. 

“I’m working on that,” I said, gesturing to the forest.  “If we can get there, we can get some good cover.”  Unfortunately, the forest was pretty far away.  I couldn’t exactly stealthfully run there carrying Bashara with all these enemies about.  Even getting there all by my lonesome, undetected, was going to be nothing short of a miracle. 

Speaking of miracles, as the goblins began charging, so did the Wargs.  As they moved closer to the creek, the Wargs veered north, away from the forces.  Their riders were kicking and stomping on them, trying to head them toward the battle.  It proved to be a poor choice.  The Wargs simply tore them off their saddles.  A few of the goblin riders might have lived through the wolves’ chomping and trampling.  With the Wargs departed, the goblin army was significantly reduced. 

The last I saw of them was GrrDane looking across the battlefield.  She looked directly at where I was hiding, and I knew I had been spotted.  Nodding, GrrDane ran off, Kappa in tow.

Bashara stared at me, wide-eyed.  “How did you manage that?”

“I let a goblin go,” I said, trying to find a spot to hide where we wouldn’t be flattened like pancakes.

“What?” she asked.  I spotted a small waterfall in the creek that had a tiny cave inside.  The cave was just large enough for two very friendly people to hide in.  Using a burst of speed and Shadow Walking, I took Bashara and dove through the waterfall.

I smacked my head directly on the rock wall.  Both my legs were outside the cave for a moment, until I dragged both of us fully inside.  We were soggy, but we were safe.

“I broke a goblin in a fight.  She was one of their Weird Sisters, and I figured she would run off to somewhere important.  I asked SueLeeta to find the spot she hid, and it turned out to be a goblin warren.  It was in a sulfur field, so well-hidden that no one knew about it,” I said in a rush, trying to keep the waterfall from pouring down my neck.

“A goblin warren,” stated Bashara, wonderingly.  “That’s where they birth all of their warriors.  Warrens are the foundation for their whole civilization.  All of their women and children, except the Weird Sisters, will be there.”

“Yes, and I told their most hated enemy where it was,” I said.     

“I wondered why they were allied,” stated Bashara.  “The goblins always seemed to hate the Wargs.”

“It's mutual.  They were only allied because the Wargs didn’t know where the last warren was hidden,” I replied.  I thought back to my first encounter with GrrDane.  “The Warg leader was only allied with the goblins because they could not kill them.”

“The Wargs are going to kill everything there now,” said Bashara with a grin.  “That will take care of your goblin problem forever.”

“Genocide, with an order of rotten eggs,” I said quietly, checking on the Battle Map.  

“Well, I’m glad you rescued me.  The goblins captured me after I fell off Badgelor.  They had a sleeping gas that knocked me out cold,” she said sheepishly. 

“What girl were they talking about?” I asked, remembering the bosses’ conversation and already guessing the answer.

“Me, actually,” stated Bashara.  “The trolls wanted to eat me, and the goblin chieftain wanted me for his harem.”

“So, you’d have gotten eaten either way,” I said.  Bashara frowned. 

“Well, excuse me for not wanting to be part of a harem, especially for a goblin I just met,” she harrumphed. 

‘Just met’ was her limit?

“Did you figure out why the goblins were here?” I asked.  I’d already guessed that, too, but confirmed information was always better. 

“From what I heard while they were dragging me over to the goblin chief, there is a passage from the underground.  It leads to the castle’s dungeon and is somewhere nearby.  The goblins have been using it for years, but it's tricky to navigate.  Apparently, they use it in some of their rituals.  However, nearly one in three goblins who come that way perish, and the Wargs can’t navigate it at all.  If the goblins could have gotten into the dungeon the proper way, they could have easily enchanted their entire force.”

“Strange, I figured they were trying to take the castle in order to drop Windfall’s barrier,” I said.  Bashara considered that for a moment. 

“I don’t know.  It's possible that was a part of their plans.  Having an entire army of powerful Shadow Goblins would have probably been enough to attack Windfall, though.  Not to mention Shadow Wargs.”

“That explains why there were so many Wargs at the castle gate,” I said idly, thinking the whole thing over.  The battle just outside our tiny hole was getting really rough.  I could sense Badgelor was still in good shape.  His Health had stabilized.  Either he’d already killed the goblin, or she’d gotten free. 

Suddenly, I heard a screech as the Weird Sister was killed.  Badgelor had apparently finally finished toying with his meal.  That was that. 

From our position behind the waterfall, we could still see the battlefield, although it was badly distorted.  With no light behind us, we were hidden perfectly, though, which I was ecstatic about.  It gave us ringside seats for the boss fight.

Both creatures had been circling each other when, suddenly, another goblin strayed too close.  Nick the Apathetic’s massive body unfurled like a praying mantis and crushed the creature. That’s when Ben’Jam’Mo came at him again, swinging his two-handed sword high and partially severing the troll’s thin neck.  The troll stumbled backward but righted his head like it was a hat and kept right on fighting against the goblin. 

Both armies had managed to grind away their cannon fodder, leaving only the main combatants intact.  I saw several of the largest Stone Blood Goblins I’d ever seen, a few rivaling the size of the chief.  Intermixed here and there were the Shadow Goblins, darting in for attacks against whichever troll gave them the opportunity.

The trolls were injured but not out of the fight.  Nick the Apathetic managed to fling Ben’Jam’Mo away before throwing a handful of glass vials into his mouth and chomping down.  Instantly, the troll’s Health began to restore even faster than his regeneration could manage.  Most of the smaller trolls were down, but a few of them got back up after being ‘slain’ earlier in the battle. 

Using my War Leader talent, I figured we could probably take either force by itself but fighting both would be a recipe for disaster.  Even with them weakened, we would take heavy damage in battle.  Either we would get piled on by both armies, or the smarter army would pull back, rest, and be free and healthy to finish off the survivors.  Sometimes, the only way to win a game is to know when to play it.  Our time was later. 

Both inhuman armies were reorganizing and preparing to slaughter each other once more.  I was looking toward the path back to the forest, now thoroughly blocked by both trolls and goblins.  Trying to cut through either army did not look promising, so we would have to remain in our wet cave for the time being.  We were quite literally in the middle of the battlefield, and the water was turning red enough to restrict our visibility. 

Still, we had successfully hidden from both sides.  It was a good time to be me. 

“Jim, how does this thing work?” I heard in my mind. 

“SueLeeta,” I replied, causing Bashara to frown slightly.  I glared at her and she raised both hands, fingers extended in a pattern that wouldn’t allow anyone to cast a spell.

“Where are you hiding?” she yelled out mentally. 

“In the middle of the field,” I replied.  “Just hold tight.  They aren’t going to find us.”

“About that,” stated SueLeeta, and I felt my stomach clench.  Before I could process what she meant exactly, I heard a trumpet peel. 

“Isn’t Sir Dalton with your forces?” asked Bashara.

Instantly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.  I opened my War Leader menu and noticed that I wasn’t in command of my entire army.  I had assigned positions of it to my various sub commanders.  Sir Dalton was in charge of Windfall’s Army presently, because my sneaky operation to rescue Bashara had moved me out of position to issue direct orders.  I was still at the top of the Table of Command, but any orders I’d issue would only be suggestions to Dalton. 

Like the suggestion that we wait until the enemy forces were weaker before engaging. 

Fenris was nominally my second in command, but his War Leader skill was much lower than Dalton’s or mine.  He probably couldn’t refuse any orders Sir Dalton gave him.  Sir Dalton was trying to steal the glory of the battle while I was indisposed. 

●                    Chieftain's Elite Guard: Chieftain Ben’Jam’Mo

●                    Troll Clan Smashmouth: Thump Nick the Apathetic

●                    Human Army, Windfall’s Dashing Dandies: Jim the Mayor

“What does dandy mean here?” I asked.

“Dandy means someone who is especially stylish,” said Bashara.  “With Zorlando and Sir Dalton both in the same army, I’m surprised they didn’t requisition color-coordinated uniforms.”

●                    Quest: Provide Color-Coordinated Uniforms for Windfall’s Dashing Dandies and Zorlando’s Golden Company

“Technically, it's inside the scope of the battle plan,” I said, after spending several minutes checking my War Leader menu.  Of course, that was in menu time.  Bashara didn’t see me do much more than pause for a second.  She blinked and turned her head to the side.

“You are really good at that,” she said, looking across the field.  “Well, Sir Dalton isn’t totally stupid.  He’s not going to rush into a foolish battle unless. . .”

“Unless?” I asked, feeling my hopes fade.

“. . .unless he’s trying to impress someone,” she smiled.

“Like Jarra the Healer,” I said, groaning.  It figured my army was about to get slaughtered over a woman.

“Hardly,” stated Bashara, shaking her head.  “Jim, and I can't believe I’m about to say this, he’s trying to impress you.  You are the big powerful Jim that everyone looks up to.  He hates that.  He wants to be the person everyone aspires to be.”

“Everyone does not look up to me,” I said reflexively.

“Actually, they do,” stated Bashara.  She examined me appraisingly.  “I figured you were just a yokel of a worthless village, but Windfall will probably be larger than Narwal in a few years.  You’ve fought and killed a few Shadow Goblins, which is reasonably impressive by itself.  I guess what I’m saying is that you sound impressive to someone who’s not very bright, like Sir Dalton”

“Thanks,” I stated blandly.  I watched SueLeeta and the archers move forward.  They began to ready their arrows for a quick trip into the crowded battlefield. 

“He’s about to charge,” stated Shart.

“He’s giving an inspirational speech,” I thought back.

“Yup, SueLeeta just called him an ignoramus,” said the demon.  “My, her heart rate spikes when she yells at him.”

Well, time to cut this off at the pass. I selected Sir Dalton on the Battle Map and brought up a mind link to him, “Sir Dalton.”

“That’s strange.  The voices in my head sound different than normal,” replied Sir Dalton. 

“That’s because it's Jim,” I said.

“No, Jim’s voice would be in Jim’s head,” argued my somewhat mush-minded companion. 

I had to blink three times to clear my head.  “Okay, Sir Dalton, can we hold off on the charge until the enemy forces are more committed?”

“Well, brain, we all know I listen to my gut at times like this,” replied Sir Dalton haughtily.

“And what does ‘our’ gut say?” I asked.

“It says to charge,” replied the Knight.

What followed wasn’t something I was proud of.  I increased the pitch in my voice and said, “Dalton, it's me, your gut.  I think we need to hold off for five more minutes.”

“Are you sure?” asked Sir Dalton, before catching himself.  “No, I always listen to my gut!  Five more minutes it is!”

Shaking my head, I broke the connection and tried to look out the waterfall.  By now, it was so full of blood and other matter that I couldn’t see through it at all.  It was about time to go. 

“Bashara, can you see about getting the trolls really fixated on fighting the goblins?” I asked.

“What are you going to do?” she questioned.

“Just try to get the trolls really fixated on fighting the goblins,” I grinned, “and preferably before Sir Dalton starts his dandy dash.”

Chapter 61: A Pleasant Creek

Bashara assured me she could cast just fine through water, so I left her in the safety of the cave.  I moved to get into the reeds as quickly as possible, barely managing to avoid being spotted and trampled.  Since I was still stealthed, any attacks I made would show up as unknown in the enemies’ logs.  Hopefully, I could cause enough mischief to get the two forces even more heavily engaged with each other. 

With armies, the person who usually lost was whoever had to commit their reserves first.  Both inhuman armies had a small reserve force of some of their truly elite forces ready to go.  They were currently off to the side, unengaged.  Those forces would be deployed whenever their side became panicked.  My objective was to get them deployed now, in as foolish a way as possible. 

The trick to using the Stealth skill was to move slowly and methodically through an area.  I was all but running, trying to get into position in the limited time frame I had.  Thankfully, the troll army’s scouts were of the smaller size, and a great number of them had already been killed.  Even the larger troll scouts were not paying attention to the reeds and bodies that I was busily sneaking passed.  That allowed me to creep through underbrush until I got into position.

It was not a good position.  I was ‘hidden’ between the corpses of several goblins and a single troll in what could only be considered a slight depression.  Today, it was the kind of cover that was going to save lives.  Well, human lives, at least. 

I still had a few moments, as the goblins and trolls were firing themselves up to get into the fight.  If I’d had ten more minutes, I wouldn’t have needed to attempt this cockamamie scheme.  Of course, if the fight lasted too long, there was a chance that one side or the other would break away.  Then, I’d have to chase them down.  Better to just end it now. 

“Oh, Dum Dum,” called Shart, “While I think this plan of yours is particularly stupid, Sir Dalton appears to be getting more aggravated with his stomach.  He is actively yelling at it now.”

Spotting a glint of glass on one of the dead goblins, I grabbed a vial of their flaming acid concoction and attached it to my belt.  If Bashara was doing anything, it wasn’t working.  It was now or never.

Carefully drawing my bow at the least awkward position and angle I could muster, I tried to take aim at one of the larger Stone Blood Goblins.  My thought process was that if I shot the chieftain, he might analyze the attack and realize something was up.  If I shot the Stone Blood, the chieftain would just see some unknown damage.

Of course, I couldn’t aim at a specific Stone Blood.  They were in an army formation, and this crazy, kooky universe wasn’t going to let me have that.  I could aim at the heavy infantry, though, and that was made up entirely of Stone Bloods. 

My arrow released with a much louder twang than I would have liked.  It was unimproved, a basic arrow attack, just like the goblins made.  My brain chose that specific time to remind me that I hadn’t seen any trolls with bows.  I should have thrown a spear or something.  Then again, I didn’t recall them throwing any spears, either.

Grebthar was looking out for me, though.  The arrow slammed into the Stone Blood’s shoulder with a meaty smack.  For a scant moment, the goblin reserves were all fixated on the superficial wound.  Then, the troll reserves began bellowing, and the goblins screamed their own war cries in return.  If the generals of either army were not occupied, they might have been able to put a stop to this.  They didn’t have the time to focus on it, however.  Within seconds, both sides’ reserves had committed themselves to the battle.  

“Sir Dalton would have to be an idiot to wade into that mess,” I stated, scanning the area.  I spotted Bashara, who had crept out of the waterfall just far enough to make her attack.  She was visible for all of thirty seconds, before miserably popping back underneath the waterfall.  It looked like she was hit by some troll guts on her way back in.   

“In the name of King TimSimons, Charge!” cried Sir Dalton at the top of his lungs.  The entire army of Windfall rushed to join the battle, already in progress.  He didn’t waste a moment. 

“That idiot has quite the set of lungs on him,” stated Shart. 

There was no time for half-efforts.  I focused on my Mana network and tried to energize the pathways over my Dimensional Sheath.  The sensation was like pulling out copper wires from an electrical panel, only to jam them onto different breakers.  After an uncomfortably long moment where I thought I’d lost access to magic all together, my network reset to the Mage Knight pathways. 

I tried to make my eyes light up, but that pathway was closed off in this configuration.  Still, an interesting thing did end up happening.  As I flipped to Mage Knight, both my Sorcerer and my Mage Knight pathways were active, granting me the full abilities of both classes.  Alas, it was only for a moment.  In just that ultra-brief time, I could already feel the power overwhelming my mind.  I let my Sorcerer pathways close.

I grabbed my sword from the sheath and felt whole for the first time the entire battle. 

I surveyed the scene.  I was in a hole in a creek bed with a fair number of reeds running up and down the banks.  The only clear spot on the banks was a small sandy beach.  It was there that the two bosses were fighting it out, to the exclusion of everything else.  To either side, there were goblins and trolls respectively. However, the creek was thin enough at points for the trolls to simply leap over it.  They were rapidly filling everywhere there was space, as both forces did their level best to end each other’s’ lives.  The trolls had a slight advantage and were starting to push the goblins back on all fronts, but not quickly enough.  Every time a troll went down, it was swarmed and killed.

Our infantry, led by a strategic moron, slammed into the trolls, catching them entirely unawares.  That might have been a slight exaggeration, of course.  The trolls on the sidelines realized what was happening.  They just lacked the capacity to change their formation and do anything about it.  The disaster on their end was unmitigated. 

Sir Dalton’s unit was eighty men, but we actually outnumbered the trolls by four to three.  To be fair, any individual troll was probably worth two militia, and some were worth more than five.  That massive disparity in combat power did not show the real value in teamwork, however, as our unit fought as one.  The trolls tended to fight us in drips and drabs.  The initial charge, for example, saw six militia vs one of the smaller trolls, and Sir Dalton and five others vs one of the larger specimens. 

Had those two trolls fought back to back, they could have stalled our charge.  As they both fought as individuals, they were swarmed and cut down with relative ease.  Only the larger one got a solid hit in.  The man he struck in the rear of the formation drank a healing potion within seconds. 

Fenris had charged the goblin army, though ‘charged’ is a strong word.  It would be better said that Fenris and his unit jogged up close to the goblins, set their spears, and marched straight into them.  Fenris didn’t have a Charge War Leader talent, but he did have a Shield Wall talent.  He had learned to use it well.

The goblins had some time to react, but not enough to reform their own ranks and deal with the shield wall.  The goblin army was larger than Fenris’ unit, with roughly three goblins per two men.  Fenris’ spears claimed more goblins than Sir Dalton claimed trolls, but goblins were by far the easier target. 

SueLeeta completed the picture, dropping down volleys of arrows onto the goblins or trolls, depending on which targets needed punctured at the moment.  Zorlando, meanwhile, was our reserve.  His troopers were protecting the archers but were not participating yet.  It would be up to me or Sir Dalton to call for him at the appropriate time.

I had been neatly sidelined by Sir Dalton, however.  I was still listed on the Table of Command, but I wasn’t listed as an active unit.  That meant I’d get none of the benefits of the battle plan.  Badgelor was also listed, but he was classified as a special unit.  His orders in battle were to just kill things. 

For me to do something, I needed to be in a unit.  There were no slots left commanding those.  I could buff the existing units, and then I could fight.  However, with no benefits of the battle plan, I would be at a decided disadvantage versus anyone here. 

Then, I realized I wasn’t actually fighting, and I had a bit of unassigned War experience.  I checked my War Leader talents to see if there was something I could select.  There were thousands of talents, so one of them would most likely be cheap and useful.  What came up was the Army of One talent.  I examined the talent’s tooltip

●                    Army of One: You gain the ability to designate one individual as a Champion.  Individual behaves like a unit, allowing you to grant them individual orders.  This unit can be targeted like any other unit in battle.  Your army’s Champion can be given orders, war cries, and other buffs.  They will act as if they are a full unit of the army.

The Champion was a one-man unit.  The Champion was a one-man army. . .an Army of One.  Little on the nose there, don’t you think, <system>? I selected the talent and then created a new unit.

“Why is it that you never slink away when the opportunity presents itself?” asked Shart.  “There are trolls and goblins everywhere, and they all want to eat you.  You shouldn't be rushing off to battle with them.”

I ignored the demon and named my unit.

●                    Windfall Army, Unit: Mr Mayor, Type: Champion

That was better.  I began comparing the sides of the battle.  It was fairly apparent that the trolls had been getting the worst of the fighting, while Fenris had stalled out fighting the goblins.  As it happened, SueLeeta’s archers were less effective on the smaller goblins, so she had been focusing on the trolls.  That put Sir Dalton’s forces fighting the trolls at near parity with them, but Fenris was floundering.  I decided to help that side. 

The goblin army was the weaker of the two, but then I recalled that the commanders of an army didn’t count on the battle calculations.  I did now, though.  I could see my own power level while I was in the Army of One unit.  It was, dare I say, impressive.  I had single-handedly pushed the strength of Windfall’s army to a clear victory level.  The flip side was that neither of the inhuman commanders were listed.  They certainly would have evened the odds. 

Then, I realized Sir Dalton had help.  He had found the largest troll he could and had charged it.  Right before he closed to melee range, something leapt off his shoulder.  That something expanded in size, turning into a snarling ball of claws and teeth. 

“Badgelor, you traitor,” I whispered.  I won’t lie.  The betrayal stung. 

“I knew it!  He was wooed by Sir Dalton’s rugged physique,” replied Shart, grinning wickedly.

“I thought he was trying to eat him,” I replied lamely.  Sir Dalton was slashing, while Badgelor was mauling the troll.  For its part, the troll realized its predicament, but, despite that, the press of battle was such that he couldn’t break away. 

Searching for targets, I spotted several more Weird Sisters in the center of the goblin formation, all preparing to cast spells.  They were blasting away at the trolls and the human forces.  Suddenly, a barrier sprung up as arrows slammed into it from the Windfall troops.   One of the Weird Sisters stumbled and fell, several arrows protruding from her chest. 

I was on my feet and moving.  A lone goblin saw me charging from the rear and spun around.  I slashed him cleanly in two, pausing only long enough to watch his top half slide from his bottom half.  I brought up my barrier, now solid and burning due to my Mage Knight abilities.  I impaled a second goblin and drove my flaming barrier into a third’s face.  I continued moving toward my target.

The Weird Sisters saw me, for I was impossible to miss.  The burning barrier of my shield highlighted me like a beacon in the battle.  Arrows flashed at me, striking off armor or barrier as I closed.  One of the Weird Sisters screamed, summoning up a void ball.  She hastily flung it at me.  I had been expecting that, however.  I lifted my sword, providing a handy target.  My impaled goblin friend was still screaming and clutching at my blade.  I let the orb strike him. 

●                    Void Orb does 67 points of Damage: Target Goblin 1/60 Hit Points.  Goblin takes 1 point of Damage.  Goblin is slain.  66 points of overflow Damage applied to the body of the goblin, with a durability of 50.  16 points of Damage applied to Soldier’s Longsword, Damage halved by Sword Master, Damage halved by Weapon property.  Total Durability Damage 4, 72/80 points remaining.

With my blade clear, I executed my Thrust Duelist talent and propelled myself past the Weird Sisters’ last bodyguards.  I slammed my sword into the chest of one of the foul goblins.  I ripped the sword free as she collapsed to the ground.  The other Sisters desperately tried to move away from me or protect themselves.  For an unorganized, frenzied moment, they were all bunched up.  I used Blazing Sword, causing my blade to grow white before I executed Cleave. 

Having multiple classes meant that I had very powerful abilities from multiple classes.  They were never intended to be used together, but what can I say?  I was <system> special.  Blazing Sword allowed my sword to nearly double its Damage output by adding in Fire Damage.  That Fire Damage was equal to the weapon’s physical Damage.  Cleave allowed me to strike at all nearby opponents while amplifying the attack’s base Damage.

Blazing Sword was limited, because I had to spend quite a bit of Mana to get the attack charged.  Cleave was limited, because, as a Duelist, I could only use it every few minutes.  Each attack on its own was very powerful and capable of ruining someone’s day.  Combined, they were an insane amount of Damage applied to many people. 

Of the five Weird Sisters present, I hit four.  One died outright, the attack causing over 120 points of Damage to her already badly injured form.  The others survived, but each was shrieking and on fire. Their spells and wards were forgotten in their pain.  They didn’t stand a chance with me in sword range.

Swinging the blade in fast, powerful chops, I hacked three of them down while their sister watched in horror.  Arrows plinked off her shield as she tried to backpedal to safety.  Her remaining bodyguard launched himself at me, but I dodged his strike with contemptible ease.  I moved to close with her. 

“There’s a Human Boss!” she screamed in the Goblin tongue, but her forces were otherwise engaged.  No one could spare the time to run back to her aid.  As I stepped toward her, a green vial smashed to the ground at my feet.  I leapt to the side, as the Sister vanished in the cloud of green smoke.

“Shart, do you see her?” I called out.

I didn’t get a response.  Glancing over, I saw my shoulder was bare.  With my ring, I could still sense where the demon was at that range.  I realized he must have fallen off into the cloud of green smoke.  He was intangible, so he was probably alright. Only Shadow Goblins had those vials, and Shart’s experience with them had been groovy.  

“Keep him away from the spellcasters,” screamed Dur’Ick’Mick as he launched himself at me.  It was such an obvious maneuver that it caught my attention straightaway.  His companion, another Shadow Goblin, managed to land a strike against the back of my leg. 

It had been a feint.  Dur’Ick’Mick dodged to the side as one of the massive Stone Blood Goblins charged at me with an enormous two-handed maul.  I flipped up my barrier, but, even with my Block talents, I was unable to deflect the force sufficiently from his powerful blow.  The strike sent me flying backward, but I managed to turn around midair and land on my feet. 

“By the Shadow God’s black heart,” whispered the Stone Blood, “He is a Boss.”

“We’ve trained for this,” cried Dur’Ick’Mick.  “We can take him!  Just work together.”

“Yes sir,” came three cries, and I realized that someone from behind my left shoulder had also responded.  I caught a glimpse of an archer to my rear.  They had a four-man party just for taking down high value targets.

Suddenly, my Arcane senses flickered.  I leapt backward an instant before the ground I had been standing on exploded in a fiery mass.  The final Weird Sister ran up beside Dur’Ick’Mick, a look of absolute hatred in her eyes. 

“My sisters, you’ve killed or broken apart!  I shall kill you and burn out your foul human heart!” she screamed. 

●                    Dur’Ick’Mick - Shadow Ranger level 16 QUEST TARGET

●                    Heroic Unit

●                    Army Champion

●                    HP: 272/290

●                    Stamina: 225/225

●                    Mana: 40/40

●                    Captain of the Shadow Rangers, This Goblin is the Elite of the Elite responsible for the slaughter and maiming of the foes of his Boss.

●                    Mak’Lak - Stone Blood Level 15 QUEST TARGET

●                    Heroic Unit

●                    HP:219/230

●                    Stamina: 172/190

●                    Mana: 20/20

●                    Ogre Strength: This Goblin’s Father was an Ogre.  Yes, his mother died during childbirth.  He is abnormally strong.

●                    Dir’fol’Chuk - Shadow Goblin Level 15 QUEST TARGET

●                    Heroic Unit

●                    HP:170/170

●                    Stamina: 185/190

●                    Mana: 40/40

●                    Shadow Dodge Specialist: Most Shadow Goblins need to find shadows to jump into, this Goblin seems abnormally good at that.

●                    Sor’Plat - Blood Oak Level 16 QUEST TARGET

●                    Marksman - Precise Shot Focus: This Goblin can fire into combat with no chance of striking allies.

●                    HP:160/160

●                    Stamina: 201/240

●                    Mana: 52/60

●                    Mucky’Puck - Weird Sister Level 17 QUEST TARGET

●                    Heroic Unit (Promotion, last Surviving Weird Sister)

●                    HP: 210/210

●                    Stamina: 80/80

●                    Mana: 287/370

●                    Void Caster

●                    Vow: She has sworn vengeance on the killer of her sisters.  Vow Target: Jim, the mayor of Windfall

Chapter 62: The All the Goblin Heroes

I was surrounded by the goblin’s elite strike team.  With the battle raging, I couldn’t exactly break off.  Far from being impressed by my prowess, the goblins all looked determined.  Without Shart’s advice, I realized I might be in trouble.  Thankfully, I remembered I didn’t really need him on my shoulder to talk to him.

“Shart,” I broadcast, “How in the hell do the goblins have this powerful a unit?”

“Dude,” said Shart, “They totally have a unit for taking on enemy bosses.  Every army has one, somewhere.”  Even Shart’s mental voice was. . .off.  He totally sounded baked out of his mind.  That wasn’t comforting at a time like this.

As I stared at the goblins, I realized they were psyching themselves up to do battle with me.  The time I was providing was allowing them to mentally prepare themselves and recover Mana and Stamina. 

When in doubt, kill off the lightly armored targets first!

In the blink of an eye, I launched myself at Dir’fol’Chuk, as the rest of the goblins exploded into activity.  Despite the nearly impossible speed I could execute my Thrust skill, the goblin still managed to wrap himself in shadows.  I half rolled, half spun, swinging my blade at my blind spot.  It was just like I’d done with other Shadow Goblins.  Here, I received a surprise.

Dir’fol’Chuk appeared below me and to the side, well out of the area I expected him.  He tried to thrust a dagger into my thigh, but I managed to use the momentum of my strike to carry me just outside his optimal range.  His dagger slashed against my leather armor, doing no Damage. 

●                    Mitigate, 12-point reduction.  Damage reduced to zero. Poison attempt failed. You take 2 points of Damage.  You have received minor poisoning.

Except that it still penetrated my armor, somehow.  I spared a moment to glance at my combat log. What I saw was not comforting.  Dir’fol’Chuk could ignore a certain amount of defense, allowing his blows to always cause some small amount of Damage.  He also had poison that affected you if he caused any Damage. 

I stuck out my hand, forming a barrier as two arrows snapped into flaming flinders against it.  The archer was out of range, so I moved toward Mucky’Puck.  She was already forming another Void Orb and had it ready to go.  I rushed toward her, while the other goblins tried to reform their line.  Their problem now was that I could actually jump over their heads with ease, making their front line somewhat of a joke. 

“Get over here, bitch,” cried a voice behind me.

●                     You have failed to resist a Taunt attack check: You are an unskilled.

I spun around, ignoring the suddenly unimportant target behind me.  I spotted the Stone Blood Goblin, who had his mace and shield ready.  I would kill him first and then get around to the other ones.  It only made sense to kill off the most heavily armored and slower attackers first. 

He swung his mace into my barrier.  At the same moment, I executed Hack and Slash against his shield.  His mace glowed the instant it struck, and my barrier cracked on impact with the weapon.  My sword bounced harmlessly off his shield on each of my three strikes.  This one was a worthy opponent.  Suddenly, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up.  I jerked out of the way as a Void Orb sped past me. 

“He has Evasion!  Concentrate on area of effect attacks, spellcaster!  Chuk with me,” cried Dur’Ick’Mick, and he launched himself at my back, his two shortswords gleaming.  I dodged one but the other scored a hit against my thigh armor.  It opened a gash in the leather, and my Mitigate skill activated again.  That wasn’t the worst, though.  The Shadow Goblin, apparently called Chuk, which was a travesty, leapt onto my back and attempted to drive his dagger into my neck.

Mitigate activated again, drawing my Stamina down as it did so.  I growled, trying to reach back to grab at the goblin.  He melded into shadows and out of my reach, even as the Stone Blood struck at me again with his mace.  The impact on my barrier was deafening.  The spider web of cracks on it exploded, causing the barrier to shatter.  

Why am I attacking the best defended one?  Leaping backward, I landed out of range of all my attackers.  Dur’Ick’Mick and the Stone Blood both turned to face me, even as I felt two more arrows strike my back.  Neither penetrated but blocking all of them was getting expensive. 

I was closest to the archer, so I prepared to charge him this time.  He was all alone, and Mucky’Puck was working on something that wasn’t quite ready yet.  All I needed was a moment for my Thrust skill to recover.

“Cowardly human runs away,” called out the Stone Blood.

●                     You have failed to resist a Taunt attack check: You are an unskilled.

Spinning around to face the true threat, I realized that, with my barrier down, I didn’t want to engage him in hand to hand combat.  I started working my Mana and held my palm flat.

“P’Foof.”

A ball of fire the size of my fist blasted out of my left hand and covered the distance between me and the Stone Blood.  He deflected it sideways with his shield.  I needed an area of effect spell, like Fireball, if I was going to get around that shield. 

As I prepared the slow cast of Fireball, I learned that I wasn’t the only person on the field with a charge.  Mak’Lak, the Stone Blood, put his head behind his shield and ran straight at me.  It was almost comical, as he was four and a half feet tall and looked like he might weigh ninety pounds soaking wet.  I thought I might get a slash over his shield now that he had it in line with his body.  When he got to the last few paces and exploded forward much faster than before, it caught me off guard.

He also hit me hard enough to knock me backward nearly three paces, something he shouldn’t have been able to do.  My spell fizzled when he Charged, but my Mobility and Stun Resistance paid off.  I managed to not only keep my feet, but I wasn’t knocked senseless by the attack, either. 

“More where that came from,” called out the goblin menacingly.

●                    You have learned the skill Resist Taunt.  Sticks and stones, my friend!

●                    Your skill in Mental Resistance is higher than your skill in Resist Taunt.  Resist Taunt will be absorbed into Mental Resistance.  All skill points will be applied to Mental Resistance

●                    You have resisted a Taunt check: You are a Journeyman at Mental Resistance.

This time, instead of being compelled to strike at the little goblin, I stood watching him.  Taunts were powerful.  I’d have to learn how to do them at some point.  The sheer overwhelming compulsion to attack him had overtaken me entirely, but not now. 

The archer was getting back into position next to the creek, and that was good enough for me.  I spun and executed Thrust, Blazing Sword, and Powerful Blow at the same time.  The poor little fool was getting ready to shoot me the next time I exposed my back to him.  Now, with me rushing forward, he wasn’t ready to protect himself.

●                    You have struck Sor’Plat with Blazingly Powerful Thrust: Damage 25 X 2 (Critical Hit) for 48 Slashing and 2 Severing Damage.  Blazing adds 67 Fire (50 base + 4 Flameology + 13 Improved Elemental Attunement). Cost: Thrust (cooldown) Stamina 10, Mana 50

●                    Sor’Plat’s Defense reduces Severing Damage to Slashing Damage and negates 22 points of Slashing Damage.  Sor’Plat takes 28 points of Slashing Damage, causing a 14-point bleed over 12 seconds.  Sor’Plat take 66 points of Fire Damage.  Sor’Plat catches fire, burning for 33 points of damage over 12 seconds.  

I actually hit him so hard that my sword went all the way in, to the hilt.  The hilt striking him sent him reeling backward off the sword. He had been anticipating taking a shot and hadn’t even attempted to dodge out of the way or block me with his bow.  My Thrust attack was fully capable of piercing the light armor he was wearing on his chest. 

Sor’Plat was a glass cannon.  I use the word ‘was’, because he didn’t even scream as he collapsed into flames.  I didn’t need to check the combat log to see that his heart had been boiled in his chest, the strike killing him instantly.  The single attack had cost me a quarter of my maximum Mana, but it had been very satisfying.

“Oh,” said Shart, giggling.

I turned to see what he was talking about when the ground underneath me exploded into blackness.  Bits of the Void struck across my armor, causing bits of it to vanish into nothingness.  Worse, there was no physical aspect to the attack at all.  If anything, I felt slightly pulled toward the raging mass of blackness.  Pushing hard with my feet accomplished nothing more than driving them into the Void.  My boots began to dissolve. 

●                    Explosive Void Coffin: Explosion causes 49 points of Void Damage.  You are standing on a Void Pocket.  Standing on a Void Pocket causes 30 points of Void Damage per second.

I couldn’t move out of my current position.  The ground didn’t offer any resistance at all.  Jumping accomplished nothing, and walking was equally pointless.  Reaching out with my Counterspell skill, I realized that whatever had taken Mucky’Puck so long to cast was also making it nearly impossible to counter.  My Thrust Skill was on a twenty second timer, and I’d just used it.  I needed something to propel me off of this. 

“If the Void does not take, another one I’ll surely make!” cried Mucky’Puck.  She gathered up the Void for a second casting.

“Hold!  I want to watch him dissolve,” called Dur’Ick’Mick.  He was standing next to the broken body of the archer I’d just slain.  “You hear me, human?  The Shadow God claims you!”

Groaning, I grabbed one of the goblin daggers and threw it a foot in front of me before casting Fireball on it.  The proximity explosion sent me flying backward off the patch of literal nothingness.   

As soon as my toes touched the ground, I sprang forward at Mucky’Puck, still in the middle of her casting.  I didn’t have Thrust ready, but that wasn’t my only skill.  I used Hack and Slash, slamming my sword into her three times.  I used Powerful Blow next, as had become routine with all my Sword attacks.  The slashes drove her to her knees, her follow-up spell broken and useless. Then I executed Quick Slash for good measure allowing me to strike her two more times before her defenders realigned themselves. 

I grabbed her with my free hand and flung the terrible bitch into the Void Coffin, right before Mak’Lak struck me with his shield again.  Mucky’Puck landed in the Void, headfirst.  She struggled to claw her way out, but there was nothing for her to get her flailing hands on.  She realized this too late and turned her head out of the Void just as her face melted off. 

Landing on my feet, I readied myself to strike at the Stone Blood.  Suddenly, I couldn't see out of my left eye anymore and pain flared down my right cheek.  Dir’fol’Chuk had landed on my shoulders and tried to drive both his daggers into my eyes.  I’d landed badly, and he’d only managed with one eye, the other dagger carving a vicious gash down my temple.  Before I had a chance to react to that, however, the Stone Blood brought his mace down on my knee with an audible crack. 

●                    Kneecracker: Mak’Lak has struck you for 42 points of Damage (12 points Mitigated).  You are suffering from a crippling injury, Broken Knee.  Mitigate has reduced this injury’s duration to 24 seconds.

I fell forward, my leg in agony, despite my Iron Will reducing the pain to only half of what I should be feeling.  The wound would have rendered me unconscious, if I hadn’t taken that perk.  All three remaining goblins saw an opportunity and pounced.  They were on me, raining down blows that I could barely see and couldn’t dodge with my shattered leg. 

At the beginning of the fight, I’d been at over 650 Hit Points.  As they continued raining blows down on me, I’d dropped to below 150.  My remaining vision turned red as the Damage began piling up.  At this rate, I was going to die.  I only had one ace left up my sleeve and just enough Mana to use it.

Timing it so that all three goblins were in front of me, I executed a Cleave, activated Blazing Sword, and, most importantly, my Force ability, Unavoidable Strike.  I’d only ever used Unavoidable Strike with my Thrust ability before, but it was an attack enhancer.  While Thrust did the most damage to a single target, I was fighting three. 

My strike left a burning slash between the guard of Dur’Ick’Mick, who’s shortswords failed to parry the strike.  The Stone Blood screamed as I took my blade across the fingers he used to hold his mace, severing all of them at once.  Dir’fol’Chuk attempted to shift into the shadows again, but, this time, my blade followed him unerringly.  He was slashed across the chest, causing him to materialize beside me. 

That was his mistake.  Powerful Blow didn’t just increase Damage.  It also knocked the target backward when it struck, unless you were careful to apply that Damage in a neutral direction, like down.  Dir’fol’Chuk was in midair when I struck him.  He went flying backward, over the creek. 

He tried to use one of his shadow powers, but my strike had set him on fire.  It was only then that I realized being lit up was enough to stop his shadow-based powers.  He screamed, clutching at his mangled body as he fell. 

I had knocked everyone back.  I used that moment to roll to my feet, attempting to protect my broken knee.  I tried to get into some sort of defensive posture. 

A Void Orb exploded against my chest. 

●                    You have been struck by Void Orb: Void (Disintegration) spell.  Damage 87, High Velocity, Immune to Environmental Constraints.

With my left eye ruined, I didn’t realize that Mucky’Puck had somehow managed to escape the Void Coffin.   Now, all I could hear was her cackling as she chanted, preparing another spell.  My Stamina was mostly depleted, as was my Mana.  I could see the play as plain as day.

If I Dodged her strike, the two melee goblins would hit me wherever I landed.  If I used my sword to block it, then I would be disarmed.  I would be easy meat, regardless.  I still had over ten seconds until my knee started working again, and I couldn’t execute my Thrust attack with my knee out of whack.  I grudgingly had to admit, they had played their cards well.

“Have no fear!  The cavalry is here,” cried out Shart, plopping back onto my shoulder. 

Two beams of light flashed across the battlefield, striking Mak’Lak in the chest.  The goblin hadn’t even seen them coming, and he staggered backward, collapsing to the ground.  Mucky’Puck realized her doom just as Badgelor leapt through the air and landed on her, driving her to the ground with his weight.  He tore off one of her arms in the process, sending a geyser of blood spurting through the air.

“My Jim!” he screamed, his eyes glowing red.  “You bastards are hurting my Jim!”

If Mucky’Puck was going to say something, it was lost as Badgelor tore her head from her body.  His claws were tearing into the rock beneath her as he continued desecrating her corpse.  I turned to face the final goblin standing and smirked.

Dur’Ick’Mick screamed before throwing down some sort of smoke bomb.  He vanished into a cloud of foul-smelling black smoke. 

“How’s my eye?” I asked.

“Jim,” replied Shart as Badgelor turned to face me.  The badger spotted the collapsed Stone Blood on the ground, roared, and charged toward it.

“It can’t be worse than what the troll did,” I said.

“Jim,” screamed Shart, as Dur’Ick’Mick exploded from the cloud of smoke, both shortswords held low.  I had wrongly assumed that the goblin had run.  That’s what people did when they dropped smoke bombs.  That’s what the goblins had always done, whenever they dropped smoke bombs.  He closed, tossing a handful more of the acrid black smoke bombs at me. 

My second mistake was assuming he was trying to stab me.  I executed a low guard, blocking both shortswords by physically catching them with my blade.  The problem with that was that I used my mass and strength to cancel the attack, leaving the goblin moving forward with his own momentum.  He slammed into me bodily, and I fell backward.

I landed hard on my right shoulder, knocking Shart lose.  I felt something metal touch my back, even as the goblin screamed and thrashed.  He wasn’t trying to get away.  He was trying to move me into a better position.

“Looks like you fell on a trap,” stated Shart, squinting at whatever I was lying on.  I flailed at the goblin.  Dur’Ick’Mick had one of his shortswords free and was busily trying to stab me with one hand, while keeping me firmly in place with the other.  On the third block with my bracer, I managed to catch his blade and tear it from his grasp.  It flew off to the side, out of both his and my reach. 

“Fine, then we both die!” screamed the goblin, reaching to his belt and yanking off a piece of cleverly concealed string.  A hissing noise filled the air.  It sounded very much like a fuse.

“Dick move,” I grumbled, trying to find a means of escape, but I couldn’t move myself off the trap.  At least, not without setting it off.  Then it hit me.  “Shart, the sun’s going down.  It’s getting really low!”

“Man, I’m tired,” began Shart, yawning expansively.  I grabbed him and jammed him, mouth first, down on the goblin.  Pressing with all my might, I got the goblin’s belt at the last second.  There was a loud popping sound, followed by goblin fragments spraying out of the poor demon.

“You asshole,” coughed Shart.  The explosion appeared to have sobered him up. 

“You two finished kissing?” asked my badger, breaking into the smoke cloud.

“You could say that,” I said, reaching into Shart’s belly and pulling out a healing potion.  The vials were covered in foul filth, but they were otherwise unaffected.  I popped the cork and let it drain into my mouth, goblin guts oozing down my arm.

Badgelor sat on his haunches.  “I didn’t realize the fight was over, ya lazy bum.”

“I’m sitting on a trap,” I said.

“Is that all?” asked Badgelor, reaching his paw underneath me and finding the trap.  He pressed down.  There was a snapping sound, followed by Badgelor’s Hit Points dropping.  I sat up as the smoke continued to clear. 

As I looked around, I saw only the two bosses continuing to fight, despite both of their armies being scattered.  There were corpses everywhere.  On either side of the creek, the humans were dispatching foes.  Windfall had the field. 

After one last mighty crack, the troll boss fell, his head cleaved in two from the goblin’s massive two-handed sword.  The panting, exhausted boss suddenly turned to see what had become of his army and went pale.  He was alone, surrounded by a sea of humanity. 

Even at a quarter of his Hit Points, Ben’Jam’Mo was a formidable beast.  I was too hurt and in too much pain to care.  Gesturing to Fenris, Sir Dalton, SueLeeta, and finally Bashara, I walked over to the creature.

“What are your terms?” asked Ben’Jam’Mo.

I looked at him for a long moment, considering what I might demand of him.  Finally, I realized it was pointless.  “Just die.”  I extended my hand and cast the spell I had prepared, pouring far more magic into it than I ever had before.  My arm rippled with magical power as the rune appeared before my hand, glowing in its intensity.

“Hoopie!”

The goblin doubled over, clutching its gut an instant before it erupted in the single most gigantic fart I had ever heard.  Mid groan, SueLeeta shot it with a flaming arrow, causing the creature to be wreathed in fire.  Then, Fenris charged him, shield first, slamming into the already confused goblin’s skull and knocking him senseless. 

Sir Dalton walked over to the burning, confused creature and frowned.  “Not very honorable.”  With that, he swung his massive sword down and decapitated the last Goblin Hero that Windfall would ever see, hopefully. 

●                    Quest: Defeat the Goblin Menace: You live in a land of danger.  Your town is surrounded by goblins.  Slay the goblin Champions, their captain, and their chieftain, so your town can be saved.  You will gain a reward each time one of the Goblin Heroes is slain.

●                    Quest Completed!  All Goblin Heroes are dead.  Speak to the Mayor of Windfall for your rewards!

Prompt after prompt filled my vision after the victory.  I had so much to think about.  It would take me days to carefully and precisely analyze all of my choices.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO,” screamed Shart mentally.

Chapter 63: Aftermath

The goblins had been defeated, as had the trolls.  There were survivors, to be certain, but, when Kappa returned, I was positive that situation would be resolved. We had taken our own losses as well, with twenty-eight militia perishing in the conflict.  Their bodies had been burned on site, and their ashes and belongings returned to their families. 

SueLeeta stayed at the castle with half of the infantry and archers, along with part of a band we cobbled together that actually knew how to play instruments.  Sir Dalton offered to stay in Windfall when it was revealed that several of the best musicians in town were his wards, and he dutifully escorted them to the castle daily. 

Fenris had returned to his home and was busy leading the town militia with Zorlando, who still stayed at my place. even after I ordered a house built for him.  He was touched but insisted he stay.  I was afraid that replacing EstherSasha with a different cook had something to do with Zorlando’s decision.  EstherSasha was now exclusively in charge of handling the ever-increasing stream of refugees. 

The castle was to be completed shortly after Grebthar Day.  My house had been decorated for my first Ordinal holiday.  The decorations were a mixture of Halloween and Christmas, my wife’s two favorite holidays.  No one understood the tree I’d placed in the room or the small wooden ornaments I’d hung up.  It wasn’t for them, anyway.

“I don’t see why I’m not allowed on the tree,” stated Shart.

“I’m pretty sure I know what this mixture on my shoulder is,” I grumbled, sitting down next to Badgelor.  “Rough Day?”

“I always get depressed around the holidays,” said the badger, his usual swagger in abeyance.  “Don’t worry, I’ll still do the silly parade.”

“Well, I do have an early Grebthar Day present for you, if it will cheer you up,” I said.

“What?” asked Badgelor, totally disinterestedly.

“SueLeeta had the dungeon entrance ready for you, and I’ve got nothing else on my plate.  Our next quest is Charles.”

“So I can murder him?” asked the badger with a childlike innocence.  His eyes sparkled in the firelight.

“He fucked with you,” I replied, “And no one fucks with the mayor of Noobtown.”

“I’m not actually sure that works here,” said Shart.

“Shut up, it's tradition.  I’m not changing it!”

“He’s right, though,” Badgelor argued.  “People fuck with us all the time.  They normally don’t live to regret it, but they do fuck with us.”

“Do you want to go after Charles, or not?” I asked, raising my eyebrows.

Badgelor smiled.  “No one fucks with the mayor of Noobtown.”

Chapter 64: Epilogue

Kappa was not a monster. He was a Good Boi and had followed the instructions Jim had given him.  Jim had an unfortunate name.

GrrDane had looked into Kappa’s eyes and made the choice.  The Wargs were her people, and her people had suffered.  All they knew was pain.  All they knew was how to be monsters.  Monsters were practical creatures. 

The Warg had allied with the goblins again, because the goblins had hidden their last warren.  That was where all the goblin young were hidden away, until they grew healthy and strong.  Then, they would go about being robust, evil goblins.  They would be goblins that held captive and abused the Wargs. 

GrrDane and her Warg brethren had found the first two warrens and cleared them out.  When they couldn’t find the third, they knew the goblins would eventually come back.  GrrDane had no choice.  She had negotiated the terms, but she hated them.  She had hated the terms, and she hated the goblins.  She had no choice.

Jim had given her a choice.  He had told her where the last goblin warren was hidden.  The goblins had been smart.  They had hidden it in a sulfur flat, and they had been careful where they had brought supplies in from.  A human tracker might have found it, but the Wargs hated the stench of the place.  They would have never looked there, and the goblins knew it.

SueLeeta had found it, after Jim told her where to look.  She, in turn, had told Kappa.  Kappa had told GrrDane.  GrrDane had told everyone, and now all the Wargs were staring down into the mouth of a cave.  Seven young female goblins were dead at their feet, torn apart by the Wargs.  The same Wargs were now blocking the other exits.  SueLeeta had found them all and marked them on her map.

So, that is why Kappa the Warg was standing next to GrrDane, when she ordered her pack to charge into the goblin warren.  She ordered them to slay everything alive down there.  She ordered them to be positive that no goblin child was left alive.

Kappa was not a monster.  Kappa hated to lose control.  GrrDane reveled in it.  GrrDane was a monster who led other monsters. 

It was a blow that the goblins would never recover from. 