Chapter 152 (Patreon)

Chapter 152

Hunting Trophies Collected: 36

Bravvo’s highest stat was his dexterity. Killing him gave me a single point.

He didn’t have too much good gear on him. Hunters didn’t appear to have bottomless inventories like we did, but instead used the slot system, similar to what most NPCs had, which limited what they could carry. He wore black, leather enchanted boots that protected him from magical bolts, though that’d done him no good. He had thirty Good Health Potions and another thirty Good Mana Refills, which I hadn’t seen yet. Regular mana potions completely refilled your spell points instantly. These also refilled your magic, but slowly. They added 200 mana points over the course of two minutes. I explained to Donut how these would be better in certain situations. I kept two and gave the rest to Donut.

His weapon was a magical longsword that increased his constitution by two points. It went into the sell pile. The rest of his clothes were useless, but I took them all. And then I took his naked corpse.

The only real prize was a set of nine potions of Levitation. These things weren’t as good as flying potions, but they allowed you to rise up into the air for as long as your intelligence times two seconds. It wasn’t clear on how high one could go or what would happen if the potion ran out before you lowered yourself. The hunter been using one of these to scout out the city of Point Mongo when he’d caught a missile to the face.

Donut and I matter-of-factly looted the dead hunter using my new safe-looting method while Signet and the others watched us impassively. Once we finished, I stood and uselessly brushed water from my eyes. The rain continued to pelt into us. Donut was miserable and pressed against my neck, shivering.

“Signet darling, I will sell you my first born grandchild if you tell me the name of the spell that you’re using to keep yourself dry,” Donut said from my shoulder.

Signet chuckled softly. “It’s not a spell, little one. It is a curse. Be grateful you do not have it.”

“Well, you found us,” I said. “I’m glad you’re still okay. But we have our hands full. We have a ton of people hunting us, and this town behind us has a dinosaur problem that needs solving.”

The half-naiad nodded. “It’s all tied together. We can help each other.”

“We are not safe here,” Clint said. He had to speak loudly to be heard as the rain kept increasing in intensity. The small man looked nervously over at the slope leading down to the river. “With this rain, they will soon emerge.” Behind him, the large, six-seater centipede made a wet chittering noise.

“Come,” Signet said, waving for us to follow. “Into the forest. We shall talk as we walk. I will not force your help this time, but I am hoping we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement.”

That, of course, was a lie. I was contractually obligated to help her. But this was a semi-scripted drama, and I couldn’t exactly say that out loud. I briefly wondered what would happen if I wedged one of my new sticky bombs onto her back and ran away. Probably nothing good.

“Where did the ogre guy go?” I asked, looking about. The other elite had disappeared while we were looting the body.

“There are invaders on the trail. The city of Zockau is vomiting them out. Areson is helping to keep us safe. He will meet back up with us later.”

I paused, looking north. “We should also assist,” I finally said. The Ring of Divine Suffering hung heavy on my finger. Its warmth was even more prominent in the rain. After one more kill, it would start giving me two stat points instead of one.

“We are already risking too much just to collect you,” Clint said as he climbed onto the back of the caterpillar. The five other warriors leapt up upon the saddles, one by one until all six sat in a row, making them look like they were upon an amusement park ride. The fuzzy, yellow caterpillar made a chittering noise.

Donut: CARL, THAT CREATURE LOOKS LIKE A YELLOW TOILET BRUSH. SHE’S GOING TO SCARE MONGO.

Carl: Leave Mongo in his cage for now. He needs his rest anyway.

I examined the long, fuzzy caterpillar.

Nadine – Bearded Sage Caterpillar. Level 50.

The Bearded Sage Caterpillar is an enormous, furry, tree-dwelling insect who is normally content to sit atop trees and munch on leaves until the day they get the notion to form a chrysalis and turn into something else equally innocuous. They’re super fuzzy and kinda cute as long as you don’t look too hard at their faces. Have you ever seen a super closeup of a bug’s face? Seriously, what the fuck? These things are mostly harmless, even after they turn into moths.

Anyway, Nadine wasn’t born as a caterpillar. A Bearded Sage isn’t normally intelligent, despite their name. Not that Nadine was Miss Science Fair before the High Elf attack, but she was a Chee. A teacher, actually, in charge of the Chee day school. She also used to be an actress, but don’t ask her about that. If she was still able to talk, she’d deny it.

Donut: DO YOU THINK THESE OTHER GUYS ALL TURN INTO CATERPILLARS, TOO? BECAUSE THAT’S KINDA WEIRD.

Carl: I don’t know. But be careful. Remember what happened to Miriam Dom. They turned her into a vampire because it was funny. Don’t let any of them bite you.

Nadine the caterpillar zoomed ahead, undulating as she disappeared into the jungle. The six riders moved up and down, like they were doing the wave. Signet casually strolled behind. I kept pace with her with Donut on my shoulder. I sent another note to Quasar, but he still wasn’t answering.

“When it rains really hard, the confederates sometimes range forth from the river,” Signet said as we moved from the waterway. We were moving back north. Away from the main road and the river, but closer to Zockau.

“Your mother is a naiad, and your father is the high elf king, right?” I asked, trying to remember the full story. I knew because she’d been a bastard, she’d been rejected by both families and had been forced to flee to the Over City, where she’d joined the circus. She’d lived there until Scolopendra’s disaster had upended everything.

“Correct, but King Finian, my father, is no longer in charge. His daughter, my half-sister, now rules the high elves in all but name. Princess Imogen. My father is very old, even for a High Elf. He still lives, but it is said he spends his days in a magic-induced stupor. I hope he rots.”

“And your mother?” I asked.

Signet’s mouth drew tight. On her shoulder, the hammerhead shark tattoo shook its giant head and swam away.

“She is long dead,” Signet said after a moment. “She was a princess. A true princess. She protected me and loved me and taught me the meaning of grace and magic and the importance of family, no matter how small that family may be. Then came the revolution, and that was that. My family’s palace is now occupied by the simpering dukes of the confederacy. Nothing has changed since. I was cast out of the river and exiled from the Hunting Grounds by my father’s people. I was still a child. Gods, it was so long ago.”

“My father exiled me, too,” Donut said. “He later got his tail caught in a car door which resulted in him being disqualified from future showings. Serves him right.”

Signet nodded. “If you help me complete my task, I will assist in helping you reclaim your own crown if you wish.”

“Oh, I already reclaimed my crown from him,” Donut said. She swished her wet tail against my neck. “I conquered Cleveland and secured the GC title. Something he could only dream of.”

“Good for you,” Signet said.

“But I think Carl may want a favor after all this is done.”

“We can discuss that later,” I said.

The jungle got denser as we walked. It appeared that Nadine the caterpillar was chewing a trail for us. I remembered the advice from the bush elf when I first got here. Stay on the paths. The white dots of non-hostile creatures surrounded us, most of them moving away as we approached. A group of red dots appeared in the distance but then spread away.

The rain still found its way to us, despite the heavy coverage of the undergrowth. If felt like we were constantly walking through waterfalls and showers. Dozens of small rivers formed on the jungle floor, draining away toward the river. I sank to my ankles in the mud. This far from the road, it was unlikely we’d come across traps, but I kept a wary eye out.

“What are we doing here, Signet?” I finally asked. “Why did you come and find me?”

“I am recruiting a team, and I am requesting your help. You are the last piece.”

“What about me?” Donut asked.

“You both are the last pieces,” she said.

“Okay,” I began. “But the last time you recruited me, you were actually planning on sacrificing me.”

“Not at the end,” she said defensively. “Not once I realized how strong you were.”

“What happened that night,” I asked. “After I left the circus? We went by the next day, and the tents and everything was gone. Everybody was gone.”

Signet nodded sadly. “Grimaldi killed the parasites, and he set our family free. It was like when you freed Heather the bear. All the clowns and lemurs and other performers simply crumbled away, finally free. All but Grimaldi himself, whom I took with me.”

“So he is still alive?” I asked. “Has he turned back into a dwarf?”

“No,” she said after a moment. “He… his story in this is mostly done. I am gathering people to me for a different reason.”

“Who is that other guy then? The strongman who was just here? Wasn’t he a part of the circus?”

“Yes,” Signet said, “but he was here in the hunting grounds when the attack occurred. Only his brother Apollon was in the Over City. Apollon is gone, but Areson lives. They have another brother, Herman the Fleet, who was in Larracos. We don’t yet know his fate.”

I exchanged a look with Donut.

Ahead, one of the warrior guys shouted, and the caterpillar rushed off.

“What’s the story with those guys?” I asked. “I can tell they’re were-creatures, but I can’t tell what they are. Do they all turn into caterpillars?”

“No,” she said. “All six are the same, but they are not caterpillars. They’re were-castors.”

“Were-what?” I asked. “Caster? Like magicians?”

“No, not caster. Were-castors.”

“What the hell is that?”

“It’s a small creature. A type of rodent. It’s not important. Their people were all magically transformed by Princess Imogen. This was long ago, even before Scolopendra’s attack. Back then, my father still sat upon the throne, and Imogen was his right hand. His Sorcerer General. They attacked the Chee and stole their land. My sister cast the transfiguration and then sent the cleansers in to mop them up. Only a few escaped. These warriors were children then. Nadine was their instructor. Their teacher. She was transformed into the caterpillar. The school children were all turned into different creatures, but these six young boys were all turned into the same thing. They have spent every moment since then running and fighting for their lives. The Chee were peaceful people, but these six have had a very hard life, and they have spent every moment of their lives in a constant state of struggle. They are an elite fighting force.”

“Okay. So lay it on me. Why are you gathering people.”

Ahead, the bushes rustled again, and the six dots of the were-warriors spread away from the caterpillar, chasing after something unseen.

Signet cocked her head to the side, as if listening. A jellyfish tattoo on her shoulder flowed across her neck. In the distance, some creature cried out in pain. She relaxed.

“There are two great cancers in this once-beautiful, once-sacred land,” she said, “and with every breath left in me, I will cut both of them free. The Confederacy and the High Elves.”

“So you want revenge against those who killed your mom, and then you want to take out the high elves, too? Is that it?”

Signet grinned without the humor reaching her eyes. “Close enough.”

~

Donut: CARL, WHAT KIND OF BORING, COOKIE-CUTTER STORY HAVE YOU GOTTEN US INVOLVED IN? IF I AM GOING TO BE PART OF A DRAMA WHERE WE’RE NOTHING BUT THE GUEST STARS, I CERTAINLY HOPE IT’S SOMETHING MORE INTERESTING THAN A SIMPLE, FANTASY-BASED REVENGE STORY. I MEAN, REALLY. THIS SOUNDS LIKE SOMETHING THE CW NETWORK WOULD CANCEL AFTER THE FIRST SEASON. AT LEAST THE CIRCUS STORY LINE WAS INTERESTING.

Carl: We just have to get through this, and we can get back to work. I’m hoping to turn it to our advantage. But I don’t know yet how hard it’s going to be. I still haven’t heard back from my lawyer.

The rain had finally started to ease, but the jungle foliage dripped all around us. The air was so humid, it was getting hard to breathe. Bugs were everywhere, and some of them were red-tagged mobs. My feet stuck in the mud with each step. We were moving northeast through the jungle, skirting the edge of the river by about a mile. We were still on the city-side of the river, and I occasionally saw remnants of buildings buried in the foliage. The ruins had been completely covered by the jungle.

Donut continued to complain as I stopped to pick a group of mushrooms that I recognized from Mordecai’s list. Each one made a crying noise as I pulled it from the ground, and I received a small amount of experience each time I picked one.

Donut: ZEV, HOW ARE THE RATINGS ON THIS SHOW ANYWAY?

Zev: They’re… okay.

Donut: I KNEW IT! CARL, THIS IS NOT GOOD. WE SHOULD DITCH HER AND HER WEIRD WERE-VERMIN. THIS HUMIDITY IS TERRIBLE FOR MY COMPLEXION. THIS IS WORSE THAN THE DESERT.

Zev: Ratings were good on the third floor when you were involved. They lagged a little mid-season while you two were on the fourth and fifth floors, but people really like the current arc. People like the six warriors and their caterpillar mount. I missed a lot of it when I was away, but I’ve been trying to catch up. Fans are afraid Signet has painted herself into a corner with this storyline and is going to rely too heavily on something contrived to get herself out of it. People are pretty excited about you two coming back, but some of the more hardcore fans think you’re going to mess everything up because of all your other issues. They’re afraid everything is going to implode before there’s a resolution. Or that you’re going to take the show over because you both have big personalities.

Donut: WELL, OF COURSE WE’RE GOING TO TAKE IT OVER. HAVING MYSELF AND CARL ON THE PROGRAM IS THE EQUIVALENT OF HAVING AUDREY HEPBURN AND, I DON’T KNOW, MACHO MAN RANDY SAVAGE SUDDENLY SHOW UP AS GUEST STARS ON A PUBLIC ACCESS TELEVISION SHOW.

Carl: How do you even know who that is?

Donut: HE WAS ON AN EPISODE OF WALKER, TEXAS RANGER.

Zev: I never saw that show. Only the remake.

Donut: WE DON’T TALK ABOUT REMAKES ANYMORE, ZEV.

Zev: Right. Changing subjects now. We’re talking to the Sensation people, and they’re going to try to steer the narrative so you’re back in a saferoom in time for Odette’s show in few hours.

The white dot of an elite appeared on my map, and soon Areson the ogre appeared. He now had a goddamn arrow sticking out of the side of his head. The seven-foot-tall strongman ogre stepped into the clearing and looked down at us. He held the corpse of a white-skinned elf slung over his shoulder like a sack. He dumped the body at my feet. It was a hunter.

“Sorry. Tried to keep him beating,” the ogre said as Signet clucked over him. She made him bend over so she could yank the arrow from the side of his head.

Signet pulled on the arrow, and a spurt of blood shot out, like she’d just popped a zit. The ogre didn’t seem to notice. I returned my attention to the pale elf as the ogre continued to apologize.

“Signet says you want them alive. But he started to bleat, and I had to smoosh him a little to de-bleat him. Then all the stuff came out. Sorry I deaded him.”

Corpse of Hunter Santiago. Killed by Elite Areson the Wise.

The Dream.

“It’s okay,” I said, going to my knees to examine the dead hunter. The Dream were a powerful, galaxy-spanning group of elves who had a stake in the faction wars game of the ninth floor. I had in my inventory a photograph of the mother of the Dream’s leader. Her name was Epitome Noflex, and she was a bald but strikingly beautiful creature. This hunter was equally bald. I hadn’t realized how pale these guys were, even after seeing the picture. He wore a quiver full of unenchanted arrows, but there was no bow. He also wore a flowing, enchanted robe that allowed him to move quickly and gave a small constitution buff.

“I do want them alive, but I want them dead more,” I said.

“It is strange elf,” Areson said as he rubbed the side of his head. “Very pale.” He looked at his palm, which came back red. He examined the blood quizzically and then licked his hand. “Yummy.”

“He is quite pale, isn’t he?” Donut said. “His skin is the shade of Miss Beatrice’s thighs in December.”

“These elves are from very far away,” I said. “They came in space ships. We need to kill all of them.”

He only had two items in his inventory. A single, magical arrow and a piece of paper. I pulled the blast chest from my own inventory, stuck it in the elf’s inventory, and transferred the two items to the chest. Then I pulled the chest free and immediately transferred it to my inventory so I could examine the items properly. Both were relatively safe to handle, and I pulled them out.

This was something I’d have to do from now on when looting hunters.

The arrow looked like just a regular arrow, but it was enchanted with a particularly nasty poison.

Arrow of Enthusiastic Double Gonorrhea.

This is a regular arrow, but the tip is dipped in a poison that will inflict you with Enthusiastic Double Gonorrhea.

Trust me on this. You don’t want Enthusiastic Double Gonorrhea.

It doesn’t kill you, but you’ll want it to. It sets your genitals aflame. Literally. And then it heals that area of your body over and over. The only way to remove the disease is to, uh, geld yourself. Or pass it on to someone else.

“Holy shit,” I muttered, careful not to touch the tip as I returned it to my inventory.

The piece of paper was a kids’ menu from some diner from Canada. On the back of the menu, written in what looked like colored pencils, was a crude map of the hunting grounds. It looked like the map was segmented into several sections, and there was writing along the edges.

“Huh,” I said after a moment, trying to figure out what I was looking at.

“What is it?” Donut asked.

“I think a bunch of the hunters sat down in some saferoom and then divvyed up the hunting grounds so they wouldn’t get in each other’s’ way. Look. The Hive has the bottom left corner, and the Dream has where we are now. Their area includes all of where Point Mongo is.”

The unaffiliated hunters were relegated to areas around the city of Zockau. There were multiple other groups with names such as the Crafters and the Nebular Sin Patrol. I focused on one area in the southeast, near the elf castle. Skull Empire. My heart quickened. The orcs had sent hunters here.

Excellent.

But there was more to the crude map, too.

“Hey, our names are written on here,” Donut said, pointing with a paw. “He spelled my name wrong!”

Sure enough, there was a list of about thirty names. All of the top ten were on there along with several others I recognized. Each name had an arrow to a point on the map. All of the names were circled, all in different colors. Some were circled with two different colors. Both Donut and I were circled in blue and purple. If I was reading it correctly, that meant we’d been “claimed” by two different groups. The Hive and the Skull Empire.

The line from our names led to the approximate location we’d been this morning before we’d set out. Sonofabitch. They knew where all of us were. I focused on Prepotente and Miriam, and they were said to be near Point Mongo. Lucia Mar was not too far away, either, but on the high elf side of the river.

It appeared each group was given a hunting area, but some of the hunters also claimed specific crawlers. I wondered how that worked if we weren’t in their designated areas. More importantly, I wondered how we could exploit this information.

Katia was circled by the Skull Empire. Elle was being hunted by the Crafters. Eva, I noted, was also being hunted by the Crafters. In addition to me and Donut, the Hive had also claimed Lucia Mar. The Nebular group was hunting Prepotente and Miriam Dom.

The Dream only had one person on their list. The very last name. This dead hunter had circled it a bunch of times, pressing so hard the pencil broke through the paper, and then at the bottom of the map, he’d drawn a pretty impressive likeness of their target with a big X over his goofy, smiling face.

Louis.

I sighed, remembering that moment when Louis had snatched the photograph of Epitome Noflex from my hands and then demanded that Juice Box transform into her likeness so he could bang her.

Goddamnit, Louis, I thought. That entire group: Louis and Elle and Katia and several others were all a few hundred miles away in the middle of the forest, near the edge of the Skull Empire’s claimed territory, but in an area claimed by a group called the Filigree. I didn’t know who that was.

“Come,” Signet said. “We are close to camp.”

“Our presence is a danger to you,” I said out loud, looking pointedly at the sky and indicating the map. “The others know where we are because they’re cheating assholes, and they’re coming for us.”

Signet didn’t appear worried. “We can handle a few outworlders. It is not a concern.”

Areson grunted. “I will squeeze all the stuff out of them, too.”

~

I sent out a group message, relaying everything I could see on the hand-drawn map as we sat in the small clearing amongst the others. In addition to the six were-whatevers, the caterpillar, and the ogre, Signet had a group of forty bush elves, a talking tortoise named Edgar, and an eclectic group of others including dryads and monkeys and other forest creatures. The group totaled at about 70 people. Most of them hovered around level 40 or so.

Louis: It’s not my fault they can’t take a joke.

Carl: Just be careful. Katia, you gotta watch his back. I don’t know how many of the Dream are here, but I had the sense he was really, over-the-top angry at Louis.

Katia: Wonderful. Thanks for the head’s up.

Louis: I don’t see why everybody is overreacting.

Three of Signet’s crew were small, winged pixies. All female. They all hovered there, glaring at me like pissed-off Tinkerbells. It was because of my goblin tattoo, which I’d gotten all the way on the first floor.

While I talked in the chat, Donut released Mongo, who had finally recovered from his “ordeal.” He jumped about with excitement, moving to sniff at all the newcomers. The elves in particular were wary of the dinosaur, but soon everyone got used to his presence. He came to sit next to me, and he curled up, yawning big, his teeth crackling with electricity.

“It’s odd, seeing one of his kind on this side of the river,” one of the elves said. “And one so well behaved.”

“He’s a very good boy,” Donut said.

“Then he’s definitely not from around here,” the elf said.

“No, most certainly not,” Donut agreed. “We’ve already had a run-in with the local dinosaurs, and they are absolutely not the kind I wish to associate with.”

In the center of the clearing was a small, eight-foot, white-barked tree with a fairy ring of white flowers circling it. All the others kept back from the tree. Actual, soft grass surrounded the clearing. When I examined the tree, I could see a very slight glow of enchantment, but all the description said was: This tree is old as shit.

Signet announced we were waiting for a few more to show up, and we all sat down. I turned to say something to Donut when I received a long message.

Quasar: So, how you doing buddy? Sorry about the radio silence. They’re moving some of the rules around, and we can’t just casually chat anymore. I now have to get a court order to send you a message. You can still send me messages all you like. That’s a good thing. All your constant bitching about the hunters getting outside information has caused a stir, and things are moving on that front. Anyway, regarding the program. It’s kind of a good news/bad news thing. Sensation has agreed to accept Borant’s offer of a ninth-floor extension, but they’re being little bitches about it and want to wait a few days before actually signing anything officially. Between you me and this Betty giving me a rubdown right now, I’m reading between the lines here. My take is you gotta find a way to make the program more exciting, but you gotta do it in a way where the spotlight isn’t throwing the star into the shadow. Don’t know how you’re going wrangle that. If that spotlight on you gets a little too bright, they might decide to pull your plug, so be extra double careful. I’m sure you’ve heard this a hundred times already, but nobody likes it when the guest star gets all the tail.

Regarding our other problem. One hundred fifty million credits. That’s… Yeah, I don’t know how you’re gonna pull that off, cowboy. That’s enough money to buy your own planet. By my count, your current outside-the-dungeon net worth is sitting at about 117 credits, and you probably already have a tax bill of 50. And even if you do gather that much money, which you’re not, we have a few legal issues to deal with. Bribery is both a way of life but also a real crime out here in the real world. And while technically it’s not a bribe, I’m not so sure the high courts will see it that way. It’s not exactly something we can keep hidden, now is it? I have an idea, but it’s a little… Nevermind. I’m working on it.

Talk to you soon. Don’t die on me. This is the most fun I’ve had since the night I graduated law school and nailed Professor Foster.

Goddamnit. Why did it always have to be so difficult?

A few more creatures, this time a pair of Ursine, entered the clearing and sat down. They nodded at Signet in greeting. Signet nodded back and stood to face us all. Next to me, Donut was chatting away with Edgar the tortoise.

“Now that everyone is here, it is time. We have two tasks before us,” Signet said. “It won’t be easy, but if we work together, we will reach our goal.”

“And what, exactly, is the goal?” I asked.

~

New Quest. The Vengeance of the Daughter.

Part One of Two.

Tsarina Signet, exiled half-daughter of the Naiad has finally come home. Her kingdom, once flourishing and beautiful, has become marred by infighting and a sloppy revolution that cut off the head of the government and left the body flailing.

Signet has returned and wishes to reclaim her mother’s crown. Or at the very least, put a proper government in place. In order to do that, she must assassinate the current leaders of the Naiad Confederacy, who are holed up in their fortress at the former river palace of the Naiad, now dubbed “Fort Freedom.”

Help Signet assault Fort Freedom and establish revenge against her mother’s assassination.

Reward: You get to move on to part two. In addition, every survivor of the assault against the Confederacy will be 20% more willing to follow your orders. I bet that number will go up even more if you complete the second half of this quest.

~~

Hey everybody! I hope you're all doing well. This floor is even more straightforward than the last, but there are multiple moving parts that are all going to come to a head at the same time, so I'm forced to structure this much more carefully than I usually do, which means I may have to make some retro edits, which is not something I like doing. I'll let you know if/when that happens.

We're not going to talk about the results of that poll. But you'll see what you've forced me to do soon.