Gamelit Novel, 7 (Patreon)

Chapter 4

Restarter Quest

“You’d like me to what?”

The centaur boomed, “Bring me ten lizardhens. We hunger!”

Amanda peered at the resulting message, now hanging in front of the centaur on a translucent blue rectangle:

FEED THE HUNGRY

Kavon the Cook needs meat to feed his camp. Bring him ten lizardhen parts.

Requirements: 10 edible lizardhen parts

Reward: Some amount of XP, and Kavon will like you better

‘Some amount of XP?’ Amanda wasn’t a gamer, but she’d listened to her husband and son talk about it long enough to guess that part of the appeal was the exposure of the numbers, and the ability to quantify things exactly, even things that shouldn’t be, like how much a centaur cook liked you. Puzzled, she accepted the quest and immediately something started glowing on the ground near the trees. Following it, she discovered the lizardhens were exactly what they sounded like: chickens with lizard heads and tails. Someone had tried their best with those, she thought. And they were kind of cute.

She needed ten parts for the cook. Did centaurs eat organ meat? She would need two, just to be sure. Scanning the camp, she spotted a crate on one of the wheelbarrows.

“Excuse me,” she said to the centaur nearest it. “May I borrow that?”

The centaur—female this time—looked down at her from what must have been an eight foot height, and smiled the way Amanda might have at a small child. “And what do you plan to do with that, little one?”

“I’m going to get us food.”

That made the woman laugh. “With a crate?”

How exasperating that fantasy worlds were also filled with condescending people who thought you were useless if you were short. Amanda smiled anyway. “May I?”

“Go ahead, little one.”

It was the work of a few moments to empty the crate—full of textiles—and set it on its side, facing the forest. She would need bait… but she had a magical bag, one that didn’t feel full, but… she put her hand in it, and beneath her fingers a crumbly texture manifested. Shortbread? She brought it out and beamed. Shortbread! Perfect! Making a trail of crumbs from the forest’s edge into the crate was the work of moments, and as she dusted off her hands, another dialogue appeared.

Congratulations! You have created a Crude Crate Trap! You have learned Trapping (Level 1).

That made her laugh. No wonder her family liked this sort of thing. Who didn’t enjoy instantaneous feedback?

Her next step involved waiting at a polite distance, very quietly… and as she expected, lizardhens were as interested in free food as the birds she liked to feed in her backyard. Four of them pecked their way into the crate; Amanda jogged to them and applied a hoof to the edge of the crate, tipping it upright. She peeked into the crate, and four irate chickenthings glared back at her. She didn’t think they’d have room to flap their way out, but she draped one of the discarded textiles over them anyway.

Of course, that was when she discovered she wasn’t brawny enough to lift the crate. Amanda eyed her noodle arms with resignation, then trotted off to find help.

The cook was surprised to see her. “You have lizardhen parts already?”

“More than you asked for, if you’ll pick this crate up for me? Over there?”

“Hahahaha, you expect me to believe you can’t bring me the parts?”

“The lizardhens are still alive,” Amanda replied politely. “It’ll be better to butcher them as you need them.”

That earned her a suspicious look, but Kavon the Cook strode to the crate, peered inside, and scratched his chin. “Well, I’ll be a pony’s uncle!” He paused, reddened. “Uh… no offense.”

“I hope you’re not a pony’s uncle,” Amanda said, fervent, because the idea of some pony-sized person being responsible for that behemoth made her feel phantom labor pains. “No offense taken.”

“Still… these are not parts. These are whole beasts.”

Calling tiny, angry chicken-lookalikes ‘beasts’ seemed over-the-top to Amanda. Also, her quest hadn’t done anything new or different yet. She was pretty sure if she’d finished it, she would have earned another of those notifications? She started rolling up her sleeves. “Well, mister… give me a knife and let’s go to work.”

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