Chapters 203 and 204 (Patreon)

Chapter 203

The three newcomers stopped dead when they finally realized who we were. They paused at the edge of the park. They started whispering amongst themselves. I sighed and moved toward them.

“Be nice,” I whispered.

The two guys were about thirty years old, and I couldn’t tell the age of the cat woman. In fact, I wasn’t positive it even was a woman, but she did have the curve of human-like breasts under her fur, almost like she was wearing a bodysuit. Both men were Hispanic, and I guessed maybe they were from this area. The woman looked like a bipedal, humanoid, shorthaired cat with glowing, green eyes. Her face had the long, thin features of a Siamese cat, but her fur was coffee-colored, almost black, and her vertical ears were much more rounded than a typical Siamese. Her fur rustled in the wind, and it looked soft to the touch. She carried a glowing trident over her shoulder, and her only clothes were a flowing cloak and arm bracers.

Donut hissed again. “That’s a Havana brown, Carl. A Havana! We need to stay away from her.”

“That’s a little premature, don’t you think?”

She scoffed. “I can tell you already I’m not going to like this abomination.”

I had no idea why the idea of a cat woman bothered Donut so much. She didn’t seem to care about Bautista, who was more of a tiger thing. She never really liked other cats, even before we’d come into the dungeon. Zev had once mentioned that there were a few cat girls out there, and Donut had been absolutely scandalized about the idea. I didn’t really get it.

I examined all three as we got closer. Based on their crawler numbers, it was clear they’d all come into the dungeon together.

The first man wore glowing, silver plate armor. At first I thought the guy was a little taller than me, but the metallic boots on the armor looked to be platforms, giving him an extra seven or eight inches of height. I’d only seen a handful of crawlers decked out in traditional, head-to-toe, medieval-style armor. It looked heavy and uncomfortable as shit. The only exposed skin was his head, which stuck out of the breast plate like a dude poking his head out of a tank. He wore a backwards baseball cap on his head, and he had a wide-eyed, scared look about him.

He had a glowing symbol over his head, indicating he worshipped a deity. The symbol was a palm frond.

Crawler #8,199,454. “Paz Lo.”

Level 45.

Race: Human

Class: Santero

This crawler worships the God Ogun.

The second guy was a well-muscled, bald man in a leather jacket with knee-high boots and a black cape. He carried a crossbow that looked similar to Katia’s, though the front depicted an open-mouthed creature. Maybe a monkey. This man also worshipped the same god. His dark eyes bored into us suspiciously as we approached. Donut gasped in despair as we got closer. This guy was completely covered in old tattoos, even on his face. Prison tattoos. Real ones.

He also had a pair of player killer skulls over his head. He was the only player killer in the group. All three of them had a mess of boss kills, including a pair of city bosses. This guy also had a single dagger, indicating he’d killed a single hunter on the previous floor.

Crawler #8,199,451. “Anton Lopez.”

Level 47.

Race: Human

Class: Fugitive.

This crawler worships the God Ogun.

The cat was indeed a woman. She did not worship a god.

Crawler #8,199,462. “Sister Ines Quiteria”

Level 47.

Race: Cat Girl

Class: Poet Laureate.

I pulled up chat.

Carl: Mordecai, who is the god Ogun?

Mordecai: For fuck’s sake, did you already summon another god?

Carl: No. Just met a group of crawlers who worship him.

Mordecai: Thank the gods. He’s a big one. A common god to worship. God of blacksmiths and protection. They can’t be charmed, and their weapons will pack an extra punch. The god itself is pretty grumpy.

Carl: They all are. Thanks.

“Sister,” Donut said. “Carl, is she a nun? A ...cat girl... nun?” She spit the words “cat girl” angrily.

“Let’s find out.”

“Hey guys,” I said, approaching close enough to talk. “I’m Carl, and this is Donut.”

“We know who you are,” prison-tattoo Anton said, practically growling the words.

I was taken aback. I was anticipating them being suspicious or cautious, but the vehemence of his anger surprised me. Donut was about to spit something back at them, and I held up my hand.

Easy. Easy. “Uh, were you the only three in your group? We were the only two at the other stairwell.”

“Oh yeah?” Anton asked. He twitched a little, holding his crossbow at the half ready position. “Word is you were with that goat guy. The one who murdered Gimli.”

Gimli was a pet hawk that had gotten eaten by Bianca, Prepotente’s hellspawn familiar. That had happened at the end of the Masquerade, and I’d been knocked out at the time. Gimli’s owner was a guy I didn’t know named Osvaldo, and he was Brazilian. He was the one who’d looted the memorial crystal off Queen Imogen’s body. I had a quest to get it from him. I was pretty sure Prepotente had a similar quest.

“Word travels fast,” I said cautiously.

“We know what happened at the end of the sixth floor, and what happened at the beginning of the next. You ain’t the only ones who got friends. We hear things.”

“Wow,” Donut said. “I don’t think he likes you very much, Carl.”

“Stay back, cat!” Anton said. “Stay the fuck away from us!”

“Me?” Donut asked, incredulous. “What did I do!”

I took a deep breath. The guy in the armor and the cat woman both took a step back and away from Anton, who stood in the middle of their unit. It was subtle, but I recognized it for what it was. They were getting ready to fight. It was an interesting formation considering he was the one with the ranged weapon.

This was ridiculous. Fighting with the only other people in here was more than pointless. It played right into the showrunner’s hands. It had come out of nowhere.

I held out my hands as I took a step back. “Look, we didn’t have anything to do with Pony fighting that Osvaldo guy. And he left the party before we went down to this floor. He’s over in the Bahamas.”

“Bullshit,” Anton said. He cracked his neck. His attention, I realized, was laser focused on Donut. Behind him, Paz gave Sister Ines a nervous look. The cat woman’s whiskers twitched.

“Why would I lie about that?” I asked. “He’s not the easiest person to hide. Look, I don’t know why you guys are so jumpy, but if that’s how you feel, we have a big, wide area to explore here.” I pointed south into the city. “We’ll go that way, and you three can go fuck yourselves off wherever you want.”

Anton didn’t respond. He just glared at Donut angrily. I watched a single bead of sweat start to trace its way down the side of his bald, tattooed head. He’s scared. He’s scared of Donut. All three of their eyes were flashing, and I knew they were rapidly talking with one another in chat.

I was missing something.

Carl: Donut. Do you know why they don’t like you?

Donut: IT’S THE OTHER CAT. HAVANA BROWNS ARE UNTRUSTWORTHY MONGRELS. ALMOST AS BAD AS SPHYNXES AND SCOTTISH FOLDS.

Carl: Yeah, I don’t think that’s it.

“Why are you this cat thing?” Donut suddenly demanded of Sister Ines, breaking the silence. “Why choose this abomination of a race? And are you really a nun?”

The woman exchanged a look with the others. They were still talking privately. The terrified-looking, armored man appeared as if he was about to burst into tears.

The cat woman took a step forward and put a paw on Anton’s shoulder. She whispered something to him. He lowered his crossbow. The tattooed man remained anxious, but it seemed like the strange tenseness of the situation was finally starting to ease, as quickly as it came.

I found myself staring at the cat woman’s large paw. Unlike Bautista and Prepotente, who both had human-like hands, she had an actual paw, though she did have an opposable thumb, making her paws work almost like mittens. Grabbing things had to be difficult for her. I wondered how she fought with that trident over her shoulder.

“Hello, Donut,” the woman finally said. “We have seen you both many times on the program. I am a Mantellate Sister.” Like Anton, she had a Latina accent. Her voice was a little rough, like Elle’s. I had the sense maybe she was older.

“I don’t know what that means,” Donut said.

The cat woman chuckled softly. “It means I am a nun, yes.”

“Yes, but why are you a half cat?”

She shrugged. “It seemed like the best option at the time. When we had the choices presented to us, it was the only race that gave me a charisma boost for my Word Weaver spell, and our game guide insisted it would allow me to choose the Poet Laureate class, which it did. Plus, I always liked cats. We had several at the prison.”

Prison. The word landed heavy in the silence between us.

I reexamined the other two men. I could see it, now. The two men were cons. She was a nun, who’d possibly worked at the prison. I once again focused on Anton with his fugitive class, and his two player killer skulls.

At this point, several crawlers had skulls, and the sight of one or two wasn’t as terrifying as it once was. Donut had one. Katia had two. Imani had 12. That alone didn’t mean anything. The real player killers had dozens. Still...

Goddamnit, I thought. I hated this. I hated not trusting fellow humans.

“Then why did you choose a Havana brown?” Donut insisted. “It’s hardly a proper breed for a nun. Maybe a Ragamuffin. Or an Abyssinian. Certainly not a Persian, of course. But a Havana? That’s like an accountant choosing to be in the body of an English mastiff. Or a professional bodybuilder picking a Yorkshire Terrier. Unless you’re trying to be edgy and ironic.”

Sister Ines looked at her own arm curiously. “I didn’t get to choose. Is that what this breed is called? Havana brown? It’s just what happened. Maybe it’s because I’m Cuban.”

“Lies!” Donut suddenly shouted. All of us jumped, even me. “The Havana brown breed originated in England! It has no association with Cuba at all! Come on, Carl. Let’s get out of here before they ply us with more filthy lies.”

I put my hand on Donut’s chest to calm her just as Anton panic-jerked his crossbow back up. His tough exterior was starting to crack. Sister Ines deftly caught the top of the crossbow as he yanked it up, keeping the bolt angled away.

It was then, at that moment, that I finally understood who was really in charge of this group.

“Like I said, Donut. I did not choose what I looked like.”

Carl: Holy shit, Donut, chill. There’s no way they let her choose what goddamned breed of cat she was. And nobody except you would know that a Havana whatever doesn’t come from Cuba.

Donut: EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT, CARL.

Carl: Just be calm, okay? We need to figure out why they’re scared of us.

She patted Anton again on the shoulder. “Now, we are all calm, yes?”

He grunted something inaudible.

“Look,” I said. “I don’t know why you’re afraid of us, but the last thing either of us need is to be looking over our shoulders the whole time. I was hoping to find you guys so we could work together. We are always stronger together. But if you’re not interested, we’ll separate here.” I held up a fist. “We should at least get into each other’s chat so we can talk in case of an emergency.”

“Your cat said she was going to kill us all when she met us,” Paz said, speaking for the first time. The armored man lifted a metal arm and pointed at Donut. “She said she was going to rip out our throats and feed us to danger dingoes and laugh while we drowned to death in our own blood.”

“What?” I asked, looking over at Donut. “No she didn’t.”

“It wasn’t danger dingoes,” Donut said indignantly. “It was brindle grubs. And I said that in confidence to Anaconda and Sledgie. I mean, really. So now you’re eavesdropping on my conversations? Carl, I told you Havanas are no good.”

“I... What?” I repeated.

“We went on a program at the beginning of the sixth floor,” Sister Ines said. “They showed us the clip.”

“Who the hell is Anaconda?” I asked.

“You know who Anaconda is, Carl. He’s the lead dancer at the Penis Parade in the Desperado Club. Anaconda told me he’d never met a cat before, only cat girls, and I told him what I’d do if I ever met one.”

“See!” Paz said, his voice squeaking.

“I said that ages ago,” Donut said. “I mean, really. I can’t be held accountable for everything I’ve ever said to a stripper. I also told Damascus Steel he was Mongo’s new daddy the last time I was there. Are you going to hold that against me, too?”

“Goddamnit, Donut,” I said. “Were you drunk?”

“No, Carl.”

“Okay,” I said. “Everyone needs to chill. Donut is not going to attack anyone. She said that because she always says stupid shit, but she didn’t mean it, did you Donut?”

“I just don’t understand why it was even allowed to be a race.” She sighed dramatically. “I suppose I must get over it. It’s not like I have a choice.”

The three newcomers talked some more amongst themselves via chat. While they did, I delved back into my own messages. I’d been asking around if anybody knew these guys and if they could vouch for them. Katia revealed she’d been compiling a list of crawler names that weren’t to be trusted, and they weren’t on it. That didn’t mean anything in itself, but it was a good sign.

The only person who knew them directly was Tserendolgor.

Ren: I don’t know them well. I have Paz in my chat. Him and the other guy are cousins, and they’re really protective of the third one. The nun woman. Their party was bigger, but they had a rough time on the sixth floor. They’re good friends with Osvaldo’s group, but I don’t think they share a guild with him. They’re mostly loners. I know that Anton guy with the fugitive class is really good with the crossbow, and that he’d had to kill two guys from his own group on the first or second floor after they’d tried to kill the nun for some reason. Don’t know the story.

Carl: Okay, thanks.

Donut: OF COURSE THE CHEATER LADY KNOWS THEM.

Imani: I have someone on my list who says they were in the same bubble as Quan Ch on the fifth floor, and that they didn’t get along. So maybe you guys can bond over that.

“If you really want to work together, you can help us capture our first squad member,” Sister Ines said. “There’s a lot of them of them on the beach. We tried to fight one, and it almost took Paz out. We’d had to kill it. If you help us capture one, we’ll help you get one, too.”

“What are they?” I asked.

“Seals,” she said. “Monk seals.”

Chapter 204

“I’ve never been a fan of pun-based naming conventions, Carl,” Donut said as the five of us trekked across the road toward the rocky, northern beach. Another distant crash echoed from the city. Cars no longer came from either direction on the freeway, but people still walked up and down the sidewalks. Nobody was on the rocky beach here, instead opting for the beaches much further to the east and west. “It’s cheap, and it lessens the danger of everything around us.”

“You were literally just talking about a stripper named Damascus Steel.”

“I love that guy! Strippers are supposed to have names like that. There’s Anaconda. Damascus Steel. Dong Quixote. The Author Steve Rowland. Gluteus Maxx. And a bunch of others. Have you ever gone into the Bitches room? I bet they also have names like that. And don’t forget Juice Box. But that’s different, and you know it. That’s their names, not the name of their species. Quite frankly, it’s embarrassing. Actually, that reminds me. Last time we were there, Damascus said he wanted to meet you.”

Anton kept a wary eye on us as we walked, but everything had relaxed. The more Donut yammered on, the more clear it was that she was mostly harmless. She was constantly talking smack. The sense of distrust was still there, and it would be for a while, but it appeared both sides had spent some time talking to others and getting an idea of the people we really were.

Despite them being former prisoners, my gut told me these guys were all right. I didn’t necessarily trust them, but they didn’t appear to wish us harm. Not as long as they had Sister Ines keeping them in line. Them being convicts by itself didn’t mean much to me. Half the dudes I worked with before the collapse were ex-cons.

Because there were no cars, Donut released Mongo, who jumped upon the newcomers with typical gusto. The three crawlers were all terrified at first, but they quickly warmed to the dinosaur when they saw he was like a giant dog. Mongo was fascinated not with the cat woman, but Paz, the armored Santero, which I gathered was some type of warrior cleric. Mongo pushed his face right up against the shining breastplate and looked at himself in the reflection, which pushed the large man over onto his ass with a ridiculously loud crash. The man fell like an upset turtle. I was afraid they’d be angry, but Paz howled with laughter.

Anton and I each grabbed an arm to pull him up.

Donut, seeing that Mongo “approved” of them, had also eased her suspicions. Of the two men at least. She continued to make comment after incredulous comment in chat about various parts of Sister Ines’s anatomy.

“Monk seals,” Donut muttered again. “I mean, really.”

“I don’t care if it’s a play on words,” I said. “They sound pretty awesome if we can catch one. We just need to be careful.”

“They’re a lot faster than they look,” Sister Ines said as we crossed over a small fence, leading to the rocky beach. We’d walked a quarter mile east toward a larger section of beach where the seals were more spread out. I could hear their loud shouting and fighting and barking as we approached.

Again, this was less mythological creature and more something stupid, but according to Sister Ines, these guys were tough. And intelligent. And great tanks.

“Real Caribbean monk seals are extinct,” Paz said as we approached. “They used to be everywhere, but we hunted them out. My papa told me that.”

“Was he a scientist?” Donut asked. She now sat upon Mongo’s back, who’d in turn attached himself to the side of Paz.

“No. He worked on a sugar plantation,” Paz said.

Anton, who’d done the most talking when we met, was mostly silent. The man was always watching, always looking around, always alert.

“So, what were you in for?” Donut asked Paz. The armored man clanged his way over the fence. He sounded liked a bag of pots and pans being shaken up and down as he moved. It would be impossible for him to sneak up on anybody.

He grinned at Donut, revealing a missing tooth. “Sister Ines, what’s rule number one?”

“Today is a new day,” Sister Ines said. “We don’t worry about yesterday because we can’t change the past.”

“So, a weird sex crime then?”

Paz laughed. Anton did not.

“It is considered rude to ask about one’s past,” Sister Ines said, speaking gently but firmly.

She suddenly reminded me of Miriam Dom, and an unexpected wave of sadness washed over me.

Donut was about to say something snarky to the nun, and I interrupted. “Have you guys gotten any cards yet?” I explained the utility card we’d received.

“No,” Sister Ines said. “We’ve only killed two things since we’ve gotten here, and neither had anything like that.”

I nodded. That was too bad. I was hoping the utility cards would be more common.

“What do each of your classes do?” I asked.

Ahead, a single seal sat by itself on a rock near the water. It appeared to be asleep. We cautiously approached.

“I am a poet laureate,” Sister Ines said.

Donut made a dismissive grunt. “I had the option for that once. It’s a bard class. I was a bard on the last floor. A legendary diva. I’m a telephone psychic now.”

“It’s a bard healer,” she agreed. “Wait, you’re a what?”

“Do you even sing?” Donut asked, ignoring the question. “I sing. I had a concert recently.”

“No. I recite poems. And prayers.”

Donut: NO WONDER THESE GUYS WEREN’T IN THE TOP FIFTY. WHO WANTS TO LISTEN TO A FAKE CAT RECITE STUPID CHURCH POETRY ALL DAY?

Carl: Yeah, it’d be almost as bad as listening to a real cat sing.

Donut: THAT WAS REALLY MEAN, CARL.

“Paz is a Santero. That’s a necromancer cleric. He also has a lot of healing and protection spells.”

“Mostly I just curl up on the ground and let the bad guys hit me,” Paz said.

I looked at Anton.

Sister Ines patted him on the shoulder affectionately. “A fugitive is a rogue class, I am told. He’s good at finding traps and escaping tough situations.”

I suspected there was much more to it than that.

“And what about that deity you guys worship? Ogun?”

Paz opened his mouth to respond, but Sister Ines interrupted him. “Only Anton and Paz worship him. I cannot bring myself to worship a false god. He has many silly rules, but he allows each of them several protection spells. He would keep the three of us safe if the princess really wanted to rip our throats out. And what about your god? This Emberus.”

Donut grunted. “He takes all of our money, but sometimes people catch on fire when Carl punches them. It doesn’t happen very often though. I have many more fire spells.”

The fact she even knew I worshipped a god told me she had a similar ability to my own.

We crouched down and slowly approached the lone seal.

“They don’t seem to have ranged attacks that we’ve seen,” Sister Ines whispered. “But they are fast and fight dirty. We have to get close to stick the flag in. We tried affixing the flag to a crossbow bolt, but it didn’t work. You have to be physically touching it when it’s shoved into the monster. We lost the flag.”

“Hang on a second,” I said, and I pulled the Bahamas book from my inventory and started to flip through it.

I hadn’t really looked at it yet. Prepotente seemed to think there would be some overlap. I moved to the index in the back. There were a lot of ridiculous monsters listed mixed in with some that sounded terrifying. The book separated them as Common, Uncommon, Rare, Very Rare, Legendary, Mythic, and Unique. There were lots of birds and bats and fish. I didn’t see either a monk seal or a crab. I sighed and put the book away. I’d examine it more closely later.

Sister Ines pulled a small flag from her inventory and handed it to me.

I blinked a few times, trying to figure out the image on the flag. It said Team Sister Ines on it, and it was a blue field with a black and white, embroidered blob on it. Donut audibly scoffed at the quality. It looked like the image was maybe one of those ball and chain shackles. But the metal ball had something on it. Like maybe a nun’s habit. I shook my head. The design was almost as dumb as our own flag.

“I should warn you,” Sister Ines said. “You might get a quest when you examine the seal.”

I grunted as I turned my attention to the grey, slick monster. It looked like a regular seal. We had all sorts of similar animals in the Puget Sound, from the common harbor seal to the much-larger elephant seal and the loud-ass California sea lion. This guy was pretty big, but he was nowhere near the size of a sea lion and not even close to the size of an elephant seal. He was maybe six or seven feet long and probably weighed about 400 pounds. He just sat there, passed out on the rock.

Yago. Monk Seal Picket Sentry. Level 70.

Ahh, the monk seal. They’re seals. And they’re monks. Get it? Get it?

Yeah, anyway. These guys are more enthusiastic about their jobs than a dentist with glossaphilia. In case you don’t know what that means, what I’m saying is these guys really love fighting stuff. It’s their religion.

Trained in the deadly art of Caribbean Kung Fu, the monk seal sentry’s sacred duty is to protect the coast and hunting grounds from the impending invasion of their dread enemy, the Red Maníseros Land Crabs, masters of Juego de maní.

Be careful. You don’t want to get involved in that impossible conflict.

Crabs. Scratching, pinching crabs. The rats of the sea. I hated crabs.

A moment of silence passed, but I could sense the electricity in the air.

New Quest. The Chowder War.

Oh, you’re getting involved whether you like it or not.

The Monk Seals. The Red Maníseros Land Crabs.

War is brewing, as it often does in these parts. Every season, the land crabs emerge from their forests to attend their sex parties in the oceans surrounding these lands. The Monk Seals hold the ocean sacred, and the very act of spilling so much crab chowder into their holy waters is considered a sacrilege most foul. This is no minor inconvenience. And it’s not just a few little clouds of the batter, either. There are a lot of these crabs. Like, a lot. And when they let go... man. It’s like a category 5 jizz storm down there. Fish die. The food becomes scarce. The baby monk seals and their food supplies are literally getting bukkaked to death with gallons of weird, chunky crab splooge.

And no, that’s not a sentence even I thought I’d ever utter.

Would you want that for your own children? Nope. I didn’t think so. It’s disgusting, and it must be stopped at all costs.

For the Red Maníseros Land Crabs, it’s a matter of survival. It’s not their fault they can only have babies in the ocean. It’s not their fault they’ve had to wait a whole year to let go. They don’t want to do it there. They can barely swim. Water is a terrible lubricant. And to make matters worse, these psychotic seals are always losing their minds every time they get anywhere near the coastline. So as a method of self-defense, they’ve learned the deadly art of Juego de maní.

Choose a side. Put an end to this conflict, one way or another.

Reward: You will receive a Platinum Quest Box.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked. “Caribbean kung fu? Is that even a real thing?”

“I don’t know about that, but Juego de maní is a Cuban fighting style,” Paz said. “It is very real.”

Donut did a little karate kick on my shoulder and made her wachow! noise. “Carl, this is like one of those kung fu theater movies you used to watch. Sort of. I don’t know if any of them involve stopping crabs from jerking off all over baby seals. But it’s like one of those movies where two schools are fighting each other! But what does that have to do with Cuban culture?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Absolutely nothing. It’s complete bullshit.”

She gasped. “Aren’t baby seals all white and fluffy? Oh my god, they’re so cute! We should see if we can find one!”

“That’s a different type of seal,” I said. “I’m more curious about these crabs.”

“The land crabs migrate every year,” Paz said. “It’s a tourist attraction. But it’s not here. It’s on the other side of the island into the Bay of Pigs. They live in the forest and move to the water to lay their eggs. It’s millions of them, and I’m pretty sure only the females go into the water. It also happens in the spring, not Christmastime. All of this with clouds of crab spooge is just made up. I do not think that’s what really happens.”

“The dungeon is making crap up? I’m shocked,” I said. “Baby seals live on the beach, too, not the ocean. How big are these crab things?”

Paz shrugged. His armor clanged. “Not very. The real ones are small. Maybe the size of my hand, but I haven’t seen this world’s version yet.”

“Wait,” Donut said. “Crabs live in the forest? That’s a real thing? That sounds made up. Everyone knows crabs live underwater.”

“Yeah, it’s real,” Paz said. “Though I think they spend their days in the wetlands. That whole area is a little swampy. They’re everywhere on the roads during the migration. You should see it. They get squished by the cars. It ruins people’s tires. It stinks, and then the birds come in and eat them all.”

“You can eat them?” Donut asked.

“They are dangerous for people to eat,” Paz said. “At least the real ones. Some people eat them anyway, especially the crab eggs, but for medicine, not food.”

“We can worry about the crab spooge quest later,” I said, refocusing my attention on Yago, the oblivious seal, who remained passed out. “Let’s see how this works.”

~

The plan was straightforward. Sister Ines, Donut, and Anton would attack the monster from afar while Paz and I approached from the sides. I didn’t like the idea of separating from Donut, but we had multiple contingencies in place if things went south. And I made sure Donut had some space between her and the other two. I made Mongo stay back with her.

Sister Ines’s main melee attack was with her trident, but she mostly fought like Imani did. She buffed everyone around her and hit the mobs with afflictions. Paz was also a healer, and a necromancer, too, but the armored cleric also worked as the party’s tank, able to absorb a lot of damage. He had a Turtle ability, which gave him a temporary, powerful shield while he drew the monster’s aggro. I’d seen the ability in action before, and I knew it also rooted him in place and made him unable to attack or move. It was a dangerous ability because once cast, it couldn’t be stopped until the timer ran out. If the shield was breached before that, the caster was free, but he’d still suffer the excess damage of the attack that broke through the shield.

The plan was for him to walk up on the seal, draw its attention and get attacked while the others poured fire into it. I’d also approach, invisible. Once the health reached the five percent threshold, I’d stick it with a flag.

The last time they’d tried this, the seal had overwhelmed Paz’s defenses too quickly, making it so Anton had to take it out with a “one-shot.” I wasn’t certain what that was, but I assumed it was a powerful, magic-enhanced bolt.

As we prepared, I could sense how fluid of a team the other three were. I wondered how it was I’d never seen them before on the recap. I felt a little jealous, honestly, of their relative anonymity. Sister Ines said they’d gone on programs before, so they weren’t completely under the radar. I wondered if that route, just quietly making one’s way through the dungeon, was actually better than the path we’d found ourselves upon, not that I could change that now.

Our fame, I realized, was contagious. Whether these three liked it or not, they now had a lot of eyes on them. They weren’t dumb. They had to know it, too. That was probably a bigger concern than that obvious bullshit with what Donut had said.

Paz clanged loudly as he walked. Yago the seal woke up while we were about thirty feet away. I downed the invisibility potion and dashed off to the side.

“Hey! Hey!” Yago the seal yelled at Paz, turning to face him. “What the fuck you think you doing? You challenging me?” He had a thick, Cuban accent. Paz said nothing as he got closer. “Oh, oh, you wanna fight? Is that it? I’ll fuck you up!”

The seal then started making some weird, Bruce Lee noises. “Weeeeyaaaaw! Keeechaaaa!”

Combat Started.

The seal suddenly reared up, balancing on its tail, its little flippers waving back and forth while he made more kung fu sounds.

I watched, fascinated. I’d seen elephant seals smash into each other before, and they would beat the shit out of each other, but this was something completely different. This dude reared up much higher than it should, going completely upright, balancing solely on its back, Y-shaped flipper.

The thing did not have the anatomy for this type of fighting. The trained ones you would see doing tricks at amusement parks were usually sea lions, which had much longer flippers.

Nevertheless, this thing reared up like a giant slug and screamed. A constant stream of nonsensical kung-fu-esque noises emanated from it. It flipped to the side. It did a complete circle in the air, landing back on its flippers. The movement was quick, and smooth. Oh shit, I thought.

“Eeeeyahh!” It flipped through the air just as Paz fell forward, transforming into a giant metal shell. The seal slammed down onto the shell, hitting so hard the entire beach rocked.

An Unsteady debuff flashed and was negated as the ground rocked. Holy shit, I thought. He’d slammed down on him with enough force to crush a goddamned car. The seal flipped back, just as quickly, screaming at the round, metal form of Paz.

“Coward,” he shouted. “Fight me you metal bitch! Eiiiyaaaahhhh!”

A shield health bar had formed, and it was almost halfway down. The seal flipped sideways, pinwheeling in a circle around Paz. With each flip, the seal shrieked his own sound effects.

Donut: CARL, I’M PRETTY SURE THIS IS REALLY RACIST.

But just as Yago the seal moved to attack again, he was hit with three bolts at the same time. A full-powered magic missile, a crackling crossbow bolt, and a yellow bolt of magic. The debuff Disoriented appeared over him, as he tumbled back, rolling toward me. He sat up, swaying and swearing. His health had barely gone down. He shook his head and swore again.

I, still invisible, took the opportunity to activate Talon Strike and kicked him several times in the side. Thwap, thwap, thwap. He grunted in pain. Another magic missile hit him as two more crossbow bolts stuck into his neck. Another magical bolt hit, this one a poison debuff.

His attention remained focused on Paz. His health was down to about thirty percent.

I moved to kick him again.

Oof. I was hit in the chin with his hind flippers as he flipped forward in the air, lighting quick.

“Yip! Yip! Yip!” he shouted as he flipped.

His blow on my chin had been glancing, but it had rattled my teeth. I stumbled back.

The monk seal slammed once again into Paz’s shell. The rocks all around him shattered into dust. Paz’s shield held only the smallest sliver of health.

Paz: Uh, guys?

Yago rolled to the side and started yelling some more. The seal suddenly started to glow, just as more bolts tried to slam into him. They didn’t hit. Donut cast another magic missile, and it sizzled against the new shield. It was a protection spell of some sort. The debuffs over him all went away.

Anton: My bolts aren’t getting through! This is something new. The last seal didn’t cast this spell!

Sister Ines: He’s protected himself from ranged attacks. I can’t get in, either!

Paz: I can’t move for another ten seconds!

Damnit, I thought. I shoved the flag in my mouth, and I rushed forward, forming a fist. The seal moved to slam down on Paz one last time. This would probably kill the guy. I rushed up, my gauntlet forming just as my invisibility faded.

I punched the seal right in the side of the head. He roared indignantly as he rolled away.

“Oh! Oh! Another little bitch. You gonna punch me in the face?” the seal shouted, finally moving his attention onto me. He hopped up and down a few times. He did a backflip then danced to the side. He made more kung fu noises. “Watch this!”

Fuck. I dove to the right just as he slammed down upon where I’d been standing. The damn thig was fast. Paz jumped to his feet the moment the Turtle ran out. A ridiculously huge mace formed in his hands. The thing was twice as long as he was with a diamond-shaped head at the top the size of beer keg.

“Watch out,” he cried. He swung, and I hit the ground as the giant mace swung from behind, and it slammed into the head of the recovering seal, who grunted and then fell, landing atop me.

Oof. I wheezed as the heavy, wet form slammed into me.

The seal’s health suddenly started to blink. It took me a second to realize what that meant.

“Flag,” someone shouted. It was Sister Ines. All of them, Donut included, were running up on us. Mongo’s cry screeched in the air.

I struggled to free my arm. I took the flag from my mouth, and I stabbed it right into the side of the head of the seal.

Pling! The digital noise echoed loudly through the beach.

The seal disappeared in a puff of blue smoke.

Combat Complete. Deck has been reset.

Shit, I thought. That wasn’t even a boss battle.

I still held something in my hand.

A card.

I examined it as the others ran up.

Warning: this card is owned by Team Sister Ines. It has not yet been activated. You may not collect or trade totem cards until they have been activated. This card may only be activated by that team’s Squad Leader.

The back was the same as the utility card we’d collected earlier. The front featured a stylized, screaming version of Yago drawn in a comic book style. The seal now had a blue headband for some reason. Several symbols dotted the card, including a green 70 in the top corner, which I knew was the mob’s level. There was also a clock with a 60 and a heart with a 125. A little symbol featuring a wave of water was emblazoned on the side with a fist under it and a shield under that. A whole row of other symbols ran across the bottom of the rigid card.

T’Ghee Card. Uncommon.

Totem Card.

Yago. Monk Seal Picket Sentry.

“You wanna fight me? You sure about that?”

Level: 70.

Origin: Cuba

Summoning duration: 60 seconds.

Constitution: 125.

Knockout duration: One round.

This is an aquatic mob.

This is a melee mob.

This is a tank mob.

Notable attacks:

Kung Fu Master.

Body slam.

Earthquake.

Deflector.

+5 additional skills and spells.

Examine in the squad details tab of your interface for full stats and skills and spells.

Warning: You have empty slots in your squad. Collecting this card will automatically activate and place this totem into your squad. You may not remove or trade squad members until your squad is full. If you wish to remove a card before your squad is full, you will have to tear the card.

We definitely wanted to get one of these guys into our squad.

“Carl, there’s another seal coming,” Donut said as I handed the card off to Sister Ines. This new seal moved rapidly across the beach, headed straight for us, shouting. As it got closer, I noted this guy was the exact same level, but this one’s name was Geraldo.

“So, you want to do it again?” I asked.

~~~~~

Hey all! I hope everyone is doing well. I'm still knee-deep in several things at once, including the audiobook proofs for book 5. My Etsy store has converted from animal prints to DCC merch, but I still have a few IKEA features coming up this year, so that's gonna be neat. This upcoming weekend, I will be at Norwescon selling books in Seattle. The con is sold out, but if you're in the area, you can still go into the vendor room (I believe) for free. I will have books and possibly a booth babe and/or a Jeff Hays with me for your entertainment.

My con appearances are finally starting to coagulate somewhat, and they'll include a really cool (small) east coast con in August. I'll have a more concrete schedule soon. Also, If you have the $30 tier, and you haven't yet received your book, (and you haven't started in the past few months,) let me know. The last batch I sent out had a few returns from bad addresses. I will try to make it all right. 

In some not-very-cool news, my 83 year-old, ex-special forces, 2X silver-star awarded father is not doing so hot health-wise, and that really sucks. He has been battling cancer since the 90's. He lives in Tucson, and I'm in Seattle, so when I go to see him, it's obviously a multi-day event. I'm doing my best, but it will never be as good as he's done. Fuck cancer and everything about it.