They came to the stones as he had long ago, and Missus Fluffbear grew interested, toddling around and staring at the writing that filled them. Threadbare followed behind her, reading each one as he went, and tracing the letters with his paw. This had helped him, he remembered, back when he was trying to figure out letters and words, figure out the world.
Celia did this for me, he thought, and bowed his head as his paw shook on the stone. For a second the despair crept on him again—
HONK
—but only a second. He smiled down at Fluffbear’s anxious face, and patted her head. “See? This one says here lies William Walt, I got hungry and it wasn’t his fault.”
But the girl he’d met here was nowhere in sight. He even checked around with Scents and Sensibility...
...and caught a strange smell, coming from the east.
PER +1
It was like Pulsivar, but not Pulsivar. Like a couple of Pulsivars, because the scents were subtly different.
The big black bobcat perked up instantly as soon as he smelled it, bounding off that way, excited.
“Wait!” Threadbare insisted, running to keep up....
...which is about when the first skeletal hand leaped out from behind a gravestone, and tried to strangle Missus Fluffbear. Not a skeleton, just a bony hand, moving of its own accord.
She didn’t much care about getting strangled and it was dispatched easily enough, but by the time they were done with it, Pulsivar was gone from sight. Missus Fluffbear, for her part, was oblivious to Threadbare’s distress, waving her arms in the air excitedly.
Her Toy Golem level had gone up to six on the party screen, Threadbare saw. Not too surprising given how much fighting they’d been doing all that day.
“Pulsivar?” Threadbare called, hauling out the Minorphone and triggering its magic. “PULSIVAR?”
The sound was much louder than expected, and it rolled off the hills, echoing back and forth. But the black cat did not return.
So Threadbare fired up his sniffer and followed his scent. It was pretty easy, after all. His friend stuck to the strange cats’ trail like a close-knit stitch in a seam.
Your Scents and Sensibility skill is now level 17!
Threadbare didn’t know why Pulsivar was so worked up about this. He had no way of knowing that it was smack in the middle of bobcat mating season, and one of the scents that Pulsivar had picked up belonged to a female close to heat. If he’d known that, he probably wouldn’t have understood it in the first place. Toy golems didn’t generally have to worry about hormones, and in any case, he already had a method of reproduction that involved a lot less drama and biology.
Another dead hand later, they came to a place where the ground was torn up. Muddy stone boxes lay in deep holes, lids off, and the stones above were crooked and fallen. The scent of cats was all around—
—and then Fluffbear was falling into the pits, and that took a while to sort out. Fortunately Threadbare had plenty of string, and eventually he just tied her to him and kept on walking whenever he felt the string tug and jerk. Seriously, she was lucky to have him along for this.
In more ways than he knew, actually. Every time he helped her out of a predicament, she ground a little more experience for her luck. She’d already gone up a couple of times since the day started.
Eventually, Threadbare came to a deep set of ruts in the ground, straight and surrounded with pawmarks. Big ones. The ground was torn up here, by something Threadbare had never seen before. It smelled of... death. Old wood and old death, very old. And... rusted metal? And cats. Really strongly of cats.
And sure enough, Pulsivar was following it. He’d stopped to piss on one of the gravestones, but after that, ZOOM, if Threadbare’s nose was right.
Sighing, the little bear gathered his party and marched on after the tracks.
Oddly enough, they didn’t have any encounters on the way. He was uncertain if this was because Fluffbear’s luck had hit a certain point, or if Pulsivar had cleared the way for them.
The actual answer was due to a completely different factor, but he had no way of knowing that yet.
They broke new ground, walked through land that meandered between the hills, past the occasional fallen shack or burned out barn, and Threadbare activated Keen Eye whenever the trail got too near them, making sure there wasn’t anything lurking in ambush and skilling it up a bit. Twice they snuck past bears, actual honest-to-gods black bears, foraging peacefully. That was good for another two levels of stealth.
And a level of Scout. This one brought some surprises with it.
You are now a level 5 Scout!
AGL +3
PER +3
WIS +3
You have unlocked the Alertness skill!
Your Alertness skill is now level 1!
You have unlocked the Best Route skill!
Your Best Route skill is now level 1!
You have unlocked the Forage skill!
You already know the Forage skill... +5 levels added to it instead.
Two new skills, and his spent energy refreshed? Yes please!
Curious, he pulled them up on his status screen.
There was one called Alertness, that had a chance of activating all his sensory skills right before he got ambushed. And another one called Best Route, that helped him navigate to landmarks within his field of vision.
Okay, that Alertness one was handy as heck. The other one he could see using sometimes, maybe. Right now it didn’t matter, because he had tracks to follow.
Night fell as they walked. To Threadbare it made little difference, thanks to his new cave bear eyes. But Missus Fluffbear was having a bit of trouble, so they slowed down a bit.
Then they crested a ridge, and he saw lights.
They were the glowing lights of windows. There was a big building out there, and several shapes beyond it, which his darkvision revealed to be wrecked and scorched smaller buildings. A few of them were mostly intact, but they were all dark, save for that big one.
He knew this place. It was Taylor’s Delve. What had happened to it? Why was only one building lit up, and most of the rest all smashed?
Threadbare debated. The trail he was following went past the town, veered away from it. But those lights were intriguing. Then his string pulled tight again, and he sighed as he hauled Missus Fluffbear out of a ditch. It was getting too dark for her to see well, and her perception needed work. Pulsivar’s stats were still visible on his party screen, and he was doing fine. That decided him... the big cat could take care of himself for a night or two, if it became necessary. He had for five years, after all. He’d be fine.
So Threadbare untied the string, took missus Fluffbear by hand, and with Beanarella stomping stoically behind, led the group down the hill and into town.
Once it had planks in the street, but now they were scattered and rotten, overgrown with lichen and the first shoots of new spring plants. But the toys were light and noiseless, as they crept up on the lit building.
Your Stealth skill is now level 9!
Threadbare debated, then waved Beanarella over to one of the windows as an idea struck him. He guided her to just under the windowsill, then climbed up on her back and peered in.
It was a big room inside, with a staircase going up to another floor. Candles lit the room, and a big bar filled the back of it, with stools lining the run of it. A mirror behind the bar had been thoroughly broken, and a pale man with overlarge fangs polished a glass.
At the tables, a rough-looking woman in a breastplate arm-wrestled a sturdy-looking man wearing a miller’s apron. They too were pale, and their fangs stuck out inches from their lips as they grinned at each other.
Then, someone howled upstairs, and the building shook. Threadbare barely kept his balance. The patrons inside looked up nervously, then shrugged and went back to their business once it subsided.
The voice that howled seemed almost familiar, though Threadbare couldn’t put his metaphorical finger on it.
He rejoined the nervous Missus Fluffbear, and led her around to the door. It didn’t budge when he pushed it, so he hauled out his scepter and poked at the door handle, trying to turn it. That didn’t work, so he tapped the heavy club against the door instead.
Noise from inside, some hushed discussion, and the man behind the bar opened the door, his lower face covered with a cloth mask. “Why hello there... travelers...” his voice trailed off, as he saw no one in front of him. Then gold flashed in the edge of the vision, and he followed his eyes down to the little bear’s top hat, and the immaculately dressed teddy bear under it.
Your Work it Baby skill is now level 7!
“Hello,” the foot-tall toy said, looking up into the man’s red, red eyes. “Can we come in?”
“...sure? Ah, wait... uh... enter freely and of your own pill.”
“You got it wrong Steve,” the woman said, her voice muffled from her own mask. “It’s will.”
“No, I don’t think this guy is Will.” The bartender stepped aside, as the little toys toddled into the room, two of them peering around curiously. The miller had a mask on too, now.
The woman laughed, wringing her hands together at the unexpected parade. “So cute!”
Your Adorable skill is now level 18!
Your Work it Baby skill is now level 8!
For a long minute there was silence. The door shut, and the bartender coughed. “Ah, there’s a... cold going around. That’s why the masks.”
“Yep,” the miller nodded, his eyes red against his pale face. “So we don’t give you colds! Although...”
“Yeah, what are you?” The armored woman said. “You monsters?”
“We’re golems,” Threadbare said, and instantly the atmosphere in the room seemed to lighten.
“Whew, that’s a relief!” The bartender said, sliding his mask off. “We’re monsters too!”
“Yeah, come on and belly up to the bar,” The armored woman said, taking a stool and shifting a spear on her back so she could sit down comfortably. “We thought you were travelers. Like we were, once.”
The three little toys moved up to the bar. Threadbare and Fluffbear looked at each other, and scrambled up to the stools, then on to the counter when they couldn’t see above the bar. Beanarella stood placidly below, until the woman reached down and scooped her up, depositing her next to her party members.
“I’m glad you’re not adventurers,” The guy in the miller’s apron said, taking a seat next to Missus Fluffbear. “Most of the time they either run or fight. All but the very stupid ones.”
“Hey!” The woman snapped. “I was tired, okay?”
“Oh no no, it wasn’t a knock on you, I’m just saying—”
“And the light was low! My astigmatism was acting up.”
“Right, right, sorry.”
“Hmph.” She flipped her blonde ponytail back, and stared at Threadbare. “You are just the cutest thing, you know that? I bet you sucker people in that way, and then SHUNK!”
“No,” Threadbare shook his head. “No shunking. Mostly hugging.”
“Weird, but with that much gear on you I guess it’s working out well.” The bartender shrugged, and took a bottle down. “Do you drink?”
“No.”
“We don’t drink... wine, either.” The bartender grinned. He had a friendly face, with two curly mustaches.
“Gods, don’t remind me,” the woman sighed. “At least I found us that goat a few hours back. You’re all welcome, by the way. Not naming names. Barret and Grimble.”
“Thank you Darla,” the miller said. The bartender just rolled his eyes.
Then the building shook again, as whatever was upstairs howled a breathless scream, that went on for minutes. Missus Fluffbear put her hands over her ears, and Threadbare patted her sympathetically.
When it was done, he asked “What was that?”
“Oh, uh, that’s one of us who didn’t turn out right.” Darla said, shuddering. “Pity, too. He’d be a hell of a fighter, but... eh, he wasn’t human. Gets weird sometimes when you’re not. Racial skills get stuck, and bad things happen. That’s what the mistress says.” Boards creaked overhead. “Oh, here she comes now!”
“So you must be a pretty high-level golem,” the bartender said. “Only ones I ever heard of aren’t supposed to be smart. Did you luck out and get a class level, too? We get one, but only because we had them to start, and only one comes across.”
“Your best one.” Darla said. “Gods I miss my berserker levels. But at least I’ve got the knight stuff, so I’m somewhat useful in a fight. Not naming names here. Barret.”
“Shut up!” The miller said. “What was I supposed to do? Not my fault my parents literally made me grind miller before I ran away to wizard school! Then I got vamped, and ten wizard levels went straight down the drain, just like that!”
“Guys, guys...” The bartender made shushing motions.
“Oh, I’ve got eight adventuring jobs,” The little bear said. “And two crafting ones.”
The room fell silent.
“That uh, that sounds like you’re an adventurer to me,” the miller said, edging back a little.
“Maybe? I don’t know. I don’t think I’m a monster.”
“Barret, Grimble, ease up,” Darla said, as the miller drew out a stone club and the bartender slipped a hand under the counter. “He’s weird, okay, but it’s not like he’s a necromancer or anything.”
“Oh, I’m one of those too,” Threadbare offered, helpfully.
Darla’s face froze. “Oh boy. Tell me you’re joking.”
“Nope.” There were feet on the creaking stairs now as someone descended, but Threadbare’s attention was on the little trio around him. “See? Assess Corpse.”
Your Assess Corpse skill is now level 2!
Instantly words appeared over all of the humans’ heads. Darla was a level four lesser vampire spawn and a level nine Knight. Grimble the bartender was a level five vampire spawn and a level seven Grifter. Barret was a level eight vampire spawn and a level twenty-one Miller. And for some reason, they’d all lost their smiles, and drawn their weapons.
“What’s wrong?” Threadbare asked, sliding his hand down to his pocket, where he’d tucked the scepter.
“You!” A voice squealed, and Threadbare turned, to see the mysterious girl he’d met so long ago! She still wore the green-and-poka-dotted scarf around her head, but now she had a ragged black dress to go with it, and some big black boots that stomped as she charged him, scooping him up into a hug. “Mistah beah! Gahd, it’s been so lahng, how ah yah?”
“Hello!” Threadbare said.
“You can talk now? Holy shit!”
“I made my mouth myself,” said Threadbare, and hugged her back.
It was a very good, very lucky thing that he’d long ago turned off the auto-activation of his innocent embrace skill. Otherwise that night might have ended very differently, since that skill hurt undead.
But innocent embrace was off, and the hug was just a hug, and the lesser vampire spawns relaxed as their master giggled.
Finally, she put him down on a table, and he got a clear look at the words above her head.
Vampire level ???
“So what brings ya to my neck of the woods?” She grinned, toothily, pulling up a chair. Darla came over and plopped Missus Fluffbear and Beanarella down as well. “And ya brought friends, too? Wow!”
“I’m wondering if you can help me,” The bear said. He pointed at Missus Fluffbear. “She needs to play that card game you played with me. A lot. Also I’m looking for a big, black bobcat. He’s a friend of mine, and I don’t know where he went to. He suddenly ran off.”
“A big bobcat, yah say?” The girl’s face grew guarded, and she shot the bartender a look. “And a friend of yahs?”
“Yes.”
“Oooh... bad lu
ck if he’s around heah, then.” She shook her head. “Grimble, why don’t ya explain?” She winked at the bartender, who smiled and covered his mouth for a brief moment as he mouthed the words “Silver Tongue.” Threadbare had no way of knowing that silent activation was a Grifter skill, nor would he have known what silver tongue did anyway.
The Grifter started his con. “Yes, my friend. I fear our little community is at war, with an evil necromancer! Which is why we were a little alarmed, earlier. Just a brief misunderstanding, haha.”
“Haha,” Threadbare agreed, not knowing why he should, but he did. He had no way of knowing his better-than-average willpower and actually-fairly-decent cool were being deftly suborned by the Grifter’s enhanced charisma.
“Her thing, her style if you will, involves cats. Living ones, and when they die, she brings them back. And alas, they always die. So if she has your friend...”
“No!” Threadbare jumped to his feet. “She can’t kill Pulsivar!”
“Ah, yes... her killing Pulsivar. Yes.” Grimble shot a glance at Darla, who hurriedly tucked away a cat-fur pouch. “Anyway,” he continued, “we’ve been fighting against her evil ways, but she’s ever so strong, and being a necromancer, we’re weak to some of her attacks. We’ve been trying to enlist the help of our best fighter, but alas, he is cursed. There is a strange spirit to the south, an evil witch who has cursed him so that he cannot join us.”
“Fortunately the witch is strahng enough to resist the Cat Queen too,” the vampire girl said. “But it’s only a mattah of time till the Cat Queen catches that spirit. Then our best weapon is against us, and a powahful ghost witch is on all our asses too.”
“If only someone could go out and kill that ghost witch,” The bartender said, clapping his hands to his chest. “Someone who didn’t have life to be drained away by her shuddering touch, or dead flesh that withered at her grasp...”
“I could do that!” Threadbare said, completely buying into the narrative.
Impressed, the Grifter and his master shared a glance. They didn’t even have to offer a quest!
Threadbare Volume 2 Page 7