Debauchery Hunter 2 (Patreon)

Debauchery Hunter
Chapter 2

-VB-

We do not speak German. Never learned German before, though we do get some gist of it.

What did they say? Wiet leet heer?

It sounded like someone was asking “who lives here” but it can’t be that easy… right?

“I leet here!”

“Gib alles ab und wir werden dich nicht toten! Khahaha!”

…. Okay, we understood none of that but the laughter at the end sounded an arrogant bandit enough for us.

Original me and C1 hefted their guns, each holding a SAR.

Together with C2 who hefted his own gun, we counted to three as the bandits continued to shout outside. None of the bandits saw the two of us who were hiding in the treelines.

… Okay, yeah, none of them are bearing any heraldry or armor or even conducting themselves anywhere close to what I expect from medieval knights or retainers of the nobility.

Fire.

The sound of three guns loudly barking out with each shot filled the valley. Though we weren’t truly proficient with rifles or guns in general, Self-Biokinesis assisted bodies kept the recoil to a minimum, and at a distance less than twenty yards, most shots struck true.

They screamed in fear at the noise, at the blood, and dying comrades.

And then they were all on the ground, dying or dead.

Our bodies shook from exertion, stress, and realization.

We killed people.

… It did not feel good.

Grimacing, OM and C1 left the woods. A few of the bandits cried and moaned in pain. We could not have them live to tell tales about us.

We pulled out hatchets we have been using to harvest wood.

With trembling hands, we took up the hatchets and swung it down again and again until no one but we lived.

C1 broke down into hysterical sobs. C2 hyperventilated from behind the embrasure. OM stood blankly.

It wasn't until hunger gnawed at us that we would do something about the bodies.

… at the very least, we had new clothes.

-VB-

Work continued but slowed down compared to before. We had the physical strength but the deaths we've dealt to save ourselves lingered in our minds.

We all remembered that one face. He was young. Too young to be with bandits wielding rusty swords and ragged clothes. He couldn't be more than fourteen. But he was a bandit. We didn't know him, and our shots had struck through his chest multiple times. He wasn't going to live. We - C1 - gave him mercy with a full-weight-bearing swing of our hatchet to his brain.

We buried them away from our base in a deep grave, stripped of everything. All metals were tossed in furnaces and reduced to Metal Fragments. Clothes got washed and then dyed blue with bilberries that grew in abundance here in the Alps.

We tried our best to… to…

… could we have talked something out? Maybe they were asking for food? Maybe they were talking about how odd my base looked like?

We went to sleep crying.

-VB-

When we woke up the next day, we decided that if they were truly not bandits, then they would not have been brandishing weapons, which was what C2 saw. They were bandits or at least a marauding band of mercenaries (unlikely), and they died to me.

Perhaps next time, we would use one of us to try and talk. What's done was done.

We also needed to find more food.

For the past three days, we hunted some food but have been subsisting mostly off of canned goods the original filched from the ruins of Earth Bet. We had no intention of going there, but we also needed more food.

… we needed to farm, but would the gardening here work the same as it did in Rust? We might have the Rust Gamer but it was clear that there were some things that no longer obeyed game mechanics.

We had to try.

After a quick addition of a new clone to the Hive Mind, we Doored to the Andes got the new clone, C3, to go out there and explore with one purpose in mind: barter for potatoes.

While C3 went exploring, the rest of us continued to work. Original-Me harvested whatever resources I came across, C1 went out looking for animals to hunt down, and C2 smelted from within the base.

C3 found a local quickly.

A quick communication attempt later, we exchanged an iron sword we looted from bandit bodies for a bag of potatoes and a gold wristband.

After dropping off the potatoes, C3 took the courageous step to Lotho Minor to gather Scrap for us to research Large Planter Box on Tier 1 Workbench, an item from Rust that allowed us to craft certain items through game mechanic instead of manually.

We could make a rifle because of the pseudo-Tinker "Jack of All Trades" but it was easier to stand by our Tier 2 Workbench with all of the necessary components and resources and wait for a minute. Otherwise, we would need one of us to forgo resource gathering and spend an entire day crafting a single rifle manually.

Just like the rifle, we could manually make a planter box, but we needed to test out the plant-growing mechanics of Rust and if it applied, and we had a feeling that using a manually crafted planter box might not work.

---

Wearing only linen pants, linen shirt, and a pair of sandals and armed with only a small revolver with thirty bullets extra in Inventory, C3 felt naked in Lotho Minor. As he looked around and picked up any item that shined in his vision much like items did in the game, he couldn't help but feel that something was watching him.

He took regular looks around even as he picked up items.

And then he saw it.

Just around the corner behind him, there was a creature as tall as his waist.

Gulping, C3 quickly inventoried Tech Trash x3 into his Inventory and whirled around with his revolver out.

The thing was unlike any sentient race he knew of from Star Wars.

Retreat! the Hive Mind ordered.

Opening a Door behind him, he jumped through as the six-legged and alligator-mouthed creature roared and charged.

Keep Door open!

We wanted it killed. Could new loot be had?

OM and C1 were there, aiming through Doors of their own making from wherever they were.

The creature charged through C3's Door… And got gunned down.

C3's revolver clicked after the eighth shot, and he took shuddering breaths.

OM shot one more time and his bullet shot through the head.

Making sure it's dead.

He didn't need to explain. They were all him.

C3 pulled out a Machete, a Tier 0 craftable weapon that did a decent job at harvesting flesh.

And started hacking away at the now-dead creature.

---

A new item was had!

While the creature only netted us cloth, animal fat, leathers, and bones, C3 managed to get a working Star Wars blaster!

Woot!

After C4 tossed all unwanted components into the recycle-blender, a device of our own making that barely did the job of breaking down components into basic resources, we watched as C3 rushed into the second-floor research room and slapped the blaster onto the research table.

We gawked at the price of researching it.

15,000 Scraps.

That was … thirty times more expensive than the most expensive items that can be researched from the game.

Oh shit.

Could we even craft one after we research it? All craftable items outside of primitive technology like bows and arrows had workbench requirements for crafting. We didn't think our Tier 2 Workbench was going to cut it for a Star Wars blaster.

Sighing in disappointment, we stashed the blaster in the loot box under the research table and sent C3 to start researching gardening-related items.

---

One week and seven more clones later, we had the answer.

Just like the base upkeep, there was a mechanical difference in how plants grew in Rust-made planter boxes. Even under ideal conditions, it took a potato plant one week to fully mature and fruit compared to fours of a non-specialized potato (all agriculture plants could be crossbred for specific traits in Rust).

But we weren't complaining. One-week maturation was hella faster than two-month maturation!

We also stopped making more at this point because eleven bodies were enough for most of what we sought to do.

It wasn't like we would have to fight the local nobles leading their armies into our little valley, right?

-VB-

It took a full month since our arrival for our base to be truly self-sufficient.

Walled off into a compound with stone walls and guarded by tall towers that saw movement from afar, we had a defense. We built a Potato Tower, a two by two by a two-floor structure whose sole purpose was to produce crossbred potatoes that had their yield maximized! Every week, we harvested nearly five hundred potatoes. Sure, none of them were the Russet or Gold that everyone was familiar with, but our near carrot-like yet red potato was our potato! We were proud of our potatoes for feeding us!

It was going to be our secret. No one would know of potatoes for a long time to come in Europe. Eh he he he….

But we also had a problem. Eleven of us living together made for very poor entertainment. Sharing one Hive Mind made each of us no different from one another. We all knew what each other thought.

This also made for a very bad time.

We were… let's just say perverted. When one of us thought about women and sex, it would "ping" others, and they would think of it. Once it started, it didn't end as the thoughts grew in the positive feedback cycle until all eleven of us masturbated and the need for sex abated… For maybe a quarter of the day.

And it only grew worse.

We needed a woman, or women because it was unlikely one woman could handle eleven men wanting to fuck her every single day (because that was what was most likely going to happen). Should our Hive Mind grow in number, this problem would only worsen and we would need even more women.

It was a good thing we stopped at eleven.

With emotion manipulating Cherish the power and Doormaker, we had a lot of options. We weren't morally defunct, but let's just say that in the month since we killed those bandits, certain thoughts have freed us from certain inflexible morals in the face of a possible sexual rampage of the clones indiscriminately kidnapping women should the current method of tension release fail.

If, let's say, we were to bring home a woman who was a terrorist or bandit like Cinder Fall and Raven from RWBY or Whitemane and Sylvanas (living) from Warcraft?

Hell, I might not speak the language, but I didn't think it would be that hard to convince Himiko from My Hero Academia to be a fuck toy while we showered her with-.

Actually, don't do that with Himiko. That's a crazy we didn't want in our base.

There were other places like Gate: And Thus the JSDF Went There had a bunch of oppressed sexy races, bunny girls included. Would it be that hard to buy any of them?

Hell, if slavery was an option, then Star Wars had plenty!

Maybe-.

All of us jolted in our seats as something slammed into our minds. We laid sprawled wherever we were.

Then it hit us. We realized what this was.

We forgot!

When we came to Earth Bet, we did it with a CYOA, but to make up for the ridiculous number of powers and advantages we took, we had to take a Geas.

In a joking manner, we wrote "help the people of Gimel.US."

And we haven't for a month.

We laid there in pain.

And then it was gone but not without leaving a feeling in our mind that the next time it happened, we would not get off with mere pain.

Hurriedly, we acted. Leaving only a box of potatoes for ourselves, we took the rest of our crop and opened to what would become the City. We saw people there.

It was not pretty. Most people lived in tents, and everyone was thin and haggard.

It's only been a month since civilization collapsed, we realized. For most people, that wasn't enough to recoup the losses of home, income, and food.

Gulping, we waved. We got some people's attention.

"We have food."

Then we brought out stoves and buckets. Water collected from snow and rain that would have been used for watering our crop was now being used to form the water for a soup as five of us cooked and mashed potatoes.

People began to gather.

Someone brought bowls.

And soon, everyone was eating.

… this wasn't bad.

"Halt!"

We stopped and looked towards… was that Armsmaste- I mean Defiant?

Talk about irony. The first chapter of my life involved a meeting with Armsmaster just the same as Taylor had.

"Yes?" we asked.

He opened his mouth to say something but stopped. "Are they safe?" he asked instead of whatever it was he would have said before.

We nodded. "We eat this all of the time."

Then one of us opened a Door and brought all of the venison we had.

"You have a supplier?" he asked instead.

"We farm," we - the clone closest to Defiant - replied. "Are you open to trade?"

That's how I became Gimel.US's main supplier of potatoes.

My potatoes rule.

-VB-

Our little side trip didn't change the nature of the problem we were trying to solve before said trip.

We still had libido that sat on painful levels, and one wrong thought sent the entire Hive Mind into paralysis.

Like now.

One clone, C10, just fucking died because he fell from the under construction seventh floor of the Potato Tower because C4 over in the forest was thinking about sex.

This had to be fixed. Now.

-VB-

A/N: While I am aware of the fact that the modern language of German did not arise until some time later much like modern English, I am also not interested in attempting to make realistic ancient/old/middle German and Lombard(ic?), so I will just go with modern German for the locals of Earth Malacite Germany/Alps. It’ll be Italian for everything south of the Alps.

A/N 2: I am also aware of the fact that many people in the modern Alps speak multiple languages (looking at you, Switzerland), but I don't know about the people during this period of time. As such, most of them will not be speaking 2 or more languages.