Ruins of Majesta: Vol. 2.1 Creatures and Cupcakes

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Ruins of Majesta: Vol. 2.1 Creatures and Cupcakes Page 36

by Taj McCoy El

a small pattering of applause let Mo know there were at least two other knockers in the room and one outside the door. One behind and to the left of him. One over by Bonkers and the door.

  “So, what’s the plan for today?” Mo still held in his fighting stance but opened his eyes just in time to be blinded by a sphere of light.

  “Seems loike you got the roight oidea but not in’ere. Much too small. C’mon we’ll catch you up.” He waved for Mo to follow and left the room.

  “What about Ziggs and Mephi?” Mo called after him.

  “They’ve got their own things to do. Now quick step! Training toimes a-wastin’.”

  Mo followed down to the main floor, and then out back through a door. The space he was led into was enormous. He stared down into a small-warehouse sized room. While on the first floor of the main building they stood on the second-floor landing of the warehouse with a staircase down to the floor level. Bonkers kept moving, hand still on his knife.

  I shudder to imagine what it would be like standing next to Bonkers in public without knowing their affliction. Even knowing, Mo was at times scared he would be sent to respawn. But each time was shown to be an erroneous read on the situation by the knocker in question.

  Ya gotta have faith

  At the bottom of the stairs, Mo noticed four more knockers had been added to their group. One of which was the knocker Mo knew meant him harm.

  Yeah, I’m gonna be sorry about that aren’t I?

  Bonkers walked to the middle of the room and spun his arms wide. “Welcome to the Knocker dome. This is where we settle our differences and test our mettles. Today the boys are gonna work on your form and stamina.”

  "And how are they going to do that?”

  Bonkers chuckled, “Oi would say guess but oi think you’ve already got’it. Each one will try and teach ya something so pay attention or youse’ll get knocked on your reary-doo, ya will. Good luck and Godspeed.”

  Bonkers saluted, turned on a heel and quickly strode up the steps. Mo turned to look at the knockers who were slowly moving forward him with their fists raised. None of them looked happy to be here except one who looked ecstatic for the chance to return a favor.

  Rrrrrgh…!

  “Good morning gentlemen?” Mo spoke with the utmost respect for he was squishy and didn’t relish what would come next.

  ✽✽✽

  Three hours later Mo’s trio and the knockers were headed to Driskel's farm. Mo was working through the last of the combat debuffs he had gotten from training. He had been kicked, punched kneed, elbowed, headbutted, and slammed against walls and floors for almost two hours. His dirty fighter skill had risen to level 4, and he was still nowhere near able to fight back efficiently. It was more a lesson on how to curl up in a ball in an alley while fighting against thugs—if the thugs were teaching the class in a warehouse.

  On the positive side he got three points of endurance, two in stamina and, one of constitution. That gave him an extra 67HP which he definitely needed. So all things considered he was feeling a little less squishy and had come out on top.

  The early morning sun was newly risen past the horizon. It touched their backs warming them gently. For Mo, it was also working out the cramps and bruises from his work out. Around him, the knockers carried all sorts of weapons strapped to almost every limb. They looked more like murderous hobo brigands than men bent on salvaging their reputations. Forty in all, they headed towards a test they had all failed previously. This time there was a look of purpose on their normally gruff faces. Again, that attitude still seemed more murder hobo than normal, but theirs was a condition that not many understood.

  Now they were being led by three paladins who had opted to believe in them and give them a chance to better their station. Three paladins who understood what they were going through. Three paladins who were also afraid they might get murdered during a normal conversation with any of the knockers except Treegan. But Treegan was probably the most able killer, physically speaking.

  They marched towards Driskel’s farm to gain fame, riches, reputation, and chickens. Meanwhile, Driskel was having breakfast with his wife Engele who was fussing over their son Kwaad. They heard the noise of what sounded like drunken revelers approaching their home in the early hours of the day and made for the windows. Driskel grabbed a stout club from behind the door and went outside shutting the door behind him. He slapped his palm with it as he awaited the mob.

  Mo ran ahead of everyone activating his speed. He vaulted the fence and popped up in front of Driskel in a flash.

  “Good morning Driskel. Me and my compatriots are here for work.”

  “You consider this lot of low-class curs your compatriots.”

  Mo didn’t like Driskel's attitude. And with a neutral smile on his face to keep the knockers unaware of the smackdown he was about to give, he laid into Driskel.

  “Yes, a matter of fact they are. They’ve given us more help than anyone else since we’ve been here. Not only that but their low reputation can be fixed. And you’re going to help us. Or…” Mo raised a finger, "I could just leave them on your doorstep and let them believe what they will.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “No. But we came here to do an honest job and hopefully we get the chance to do just that. We have an idea that might help you and them come to a quicker understanding. We just need you to let them introduce themselves. Sound fair?”

  “Fair enough.” Driskel grumbled with less than hopeful derision.

  Mo pushed his hand out. Driskel stared at it for a second, then put his club in his left, and then shook Mo's hand. Mo's smile became more natural, and he relaxed a bit.

  “Now put that club away.”

  “Not on your life,” Driskel responded

  “Well, then let’s show our best faces, at least.”

  “This is the only face I got.”

  That actually made Mo chuckle.

  Mo and Driskel strode out towards the knockers who were just outside the fence around the house. They stood there like every lawful citizen's nightmare and a few unlawful citizen’s nightmares as well. Driskel missed a step when Bonkers strode up peered around him through the gate and held out his hand to Driskel.

  “Really noice house ya’ave here. Is sommun’ bakin’?” he greedily peered past the man towards the house.

  Before Driskel could say anything through the quickly increasing, grimace of disdain, Mo quickly said, “Bonkers do the thing we said to do.”

  “Roight!”

  Quickly standing stiff as a pole the headman of the knockers said words that would hopefully go down in history.

  Mo crossed his fingers hoping this would work.

  “I, Celiaphus Bonkers, do hereby make an oath to do no harm or violence to any other, unless in the defense of myself or others, to do nothing that will lower my reputation unless it is to help others in peril or jeopardy and to keep safe you and yours while in your employ. ”

  A golden glow washed over him as a stupefied look washed over Driskel’s face, and he turned to look at Mo.

  “Told you, you were gonna help.”

  Bonkers put his hand forth again to offer his hand. This time Driskel took it and Bonkers stepped to the side. The next knocker stepped forth and Driskel's mood instantly soured again. That only lasted until the oath was made a second time. This process and Driskel’s changing expression repeated thirty-seven times to Mo's enjoyment.

  … And that’s shazzing quest-wooooork!!! he sang in his head.

  Kwaad poked his head out of the door and Mo placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Well, look who it is. Just the man we need to have with us in case one of the chickens get injured.”

  Kwaad grimaced but Driskel just nodded in agreement.

  "Time to clean up yer mess boy.”

  Kwaad hung his head and resignedly muttered, “Yes Pa.”

  “Let me introduce you to the team.” Mo smiled.

  Kwaad did not.

  Mo’s smile only grew as he g
ot to watch the interaction where fear and disdain were replaced with grudging, if wary respect.

  This is never gonna get old.

  A worldwide notification popped up with the sound of horns. He saw Mayah's face in his mind, and then pulled up the screen. The urgency of his need to get stronger racing through his thoughts.

  “What’re you up to now, Monkey Mai?” he mused to himself.

  ✽✽✽

  Mayah’s alarm went off, and she awoke surrounded by warms. Her fingers assured her they were also soft. Finding that she was in no danger of being poked by Deanna, she pulled herself from her fabric palette and hushed the rötten with a finger to her lips. She gave them snacks and backed away. Her stream was already recording, so she just framed her shot and waited the minute and a half it would take to get the shot.

  Proper prior planning and all. She sniggered to herself.

  Her clock ticked down the seconds while Mayah tried to get all the yawning out of her system. With 5 seconds left, her shoulders hunched, and her predatory glare intensified.

  A peal of brassy trumpets blared from the heavens assaulting her ears and startling her, even though she was ready for it. Grax and Margaret were completely unprepared by the ringing offensive pummeling to their ears.

  Grax made it to his feet, saw Mayah glaring in his direction and turned to see what she was looking at behind him. He drew a sword and tripped over his own foot and stumbled to a knee. His attention still checking behind him. The only intruder seemed to be the obnoxious daily update.

  Margaret just lifted her head, eyes wider than an ostrich in terror and twisted her head around so hard she forced herself to fall onto her side like a long turtle. She finally spied the notice, swiped it away, and clumsily wiped at the wet spot on her face with her wrist.

  “GOOD MORNING MAJESTA-NAM!!!!”

  Margaret groaned and rolled back onto her stomach pulling her spare shirt-turned-pillow over her head.

  “You knew that was coming,” Grax growled, now sitting indian style.

  “Of course, I did. Had to make sure you got your six hours, so you’d be fully rested.” what did you think about the update? Interesting isn’t it?”

  Margaret mrrm’phed where she lay and Grax glared through slit eyes.

  Mayah looked at the glorious news.

  Specter’s Keep Daily Update

  3,562 teams entered the dungeon 3 days ago. Only 177 remain. Congratulations on making it through your third night.

  Thank you, for playing Majesta.

  “Don’t you see what this is?” Mayah spun her hand in a small circle like a starter motor engaging the solenoid on their brains. “This is loot! Fewer players, more rares. Simple maths.” She tapped her temple with a finger.

  “If attrition continues, we up our chance to get rares. Right now, we’re on a mission to be first. But we have to weigh that against our survival. We got extremely lucky when Grax saved the dungeon and I apologize for biffing the whole thing.” before either of her companions could try to deny that truth she powered on.

  “All we have to focus on is completing the dungeon in one piece. I mean of course we want the raider marks but if everyone is falling like flies that means we should beef up, and then go in. I propose we do a build day, and then hit the city around three or four. That’s when the weesps come out anyway.”

  Grax continued to glare.

  "I haven’t had my coffee yet,” he mumbled angrily.

  "I can fix that,” Margaret mumbled from under her pillow.

  She pushed up onto her elbows, her head draped with the shirt and head hanging. Her head turned and a single eye peered out from the darkness. She embodied a spectral horse of death incarnate, but the kiddie sized version.

  Still kinda creepy. Me likey.

  “Cloutus sent some tea for us. be a dear and pull us out some cups?”

  Mayah did as asked and Margaret pulled the thermos out of her bag and let Mayah pour for everyone.

  “Better than the last time we had it.” Mayah nodded her satisfaction and thanks to Margaret.

  Grax just sat holding the cup in both hands smelling the steamy aromatic wafts in deep full breaths.

  He seemed peaceful, meditative even. It bothered Mayah.

  “Are we gonna talk about it?” She looked directly into Grax's eyes.

  Margaret froze.

  Grax lifted one eyelid took a sip and after a deep breath softly said, “No.”

  Mayah was stunned. Of all the answers he could have offered this was not what she expected.

  “Why not?”

  “Meh.” Grax gave a lackadaisical shrug.

  Mayah waited but nothing else was forthcoming.

  “Are you snubbing me?”

  “That would take more energy than this.”

  Mayah rankled.

  Logically he could opt to say no, but then to say no more after that, that leaves so much more to be said.

  “So, what is this?” she asked.

  Grax turned to look out over his cup again, took a sip, and said, "I still haven't had my coffee yet.”

  “So, you’re not upset?”

  “Was.”

  And now?”

  “You know I still haven’t had my coffee yet?”

  Mayah lasered the kitty with the death glare and pointed a finger his direction. “This isn’t over.”

  Grax shrugged and got back to his tea.

  Mayah, however, was left in a different predicament. Her gears started spinning. Is he still mad at me? I didn’t even make his gift yet. And he did save the dungeon. Am I the one that should be feeling guilty here?

  Wait! is that his play??? Make me feel guilty and gift him up? Or is he being sincere and I should gift him up anyway?

  Stupid cat!!!!

  Well played, stupid cat. Well played.

  ✽✽✽

  … So we need tangle traps and crushing for the skeletons, we can do that tonight.

  “Now onto the weesps. To do physical damage we need to shed light on the situation. light makes them solid, so we need more lumens to make the weesps cry. That means we need to modernize our process.

  She paced back and forth mostly talking to herself. “We have ink and we can carve runes into wood to make stamps. We need lots of pieces of paper to make Light (W) confetti. Gonna put it into grenades and watch them flutter like a butt-kicker of a ticker-tape parade. We also need to up our steady Light (W) output so we’ll be making more of those club lights. Whatever adds light to a dark situation.”

  “What about the whip?” Grax asked interrupting he reverie.

  “We should all get some practice with it. I may add an enchantment to happiness. The flame enchantment might work as it is. If it does, then I’ll hand it off to one of you.”

  “Arrows?” Margaret asked.

  “Tricky. Any ideas Grax?”

  “The Light (W) confetti helps matters for the weesps close to the grenades of course. But if Margaret is gonna snipe them off then we’ll need to make her arrows cast more light. Maybe we can make a dual enchantment strong enough to keep them solid so we can do damage as they move towards us.”

  “So, that means engraving arrows. That gonna be on you, Mags. I’ll do the paper and Grax can do stilettos. Well do that for an hour or so, and then see if we’ve come up with anything else.” Mayah handed out the runes and patterns they would need and got settled.

  “This is gonna suck up a bit of my mana, so make a pile of anything you’ve done right next to me and I’ll enchant as I go.”

  She turned her attention to figuring out how big to make her rune stamp to maximize their layout on the paper.

  ✽✽✽

  Introductions were made, veterinary supplies were gathered and with an updated quest shared, the knockers, Kwaad, and Mo's team trudged single file across the holey field with Ziggs in the lead. Except for a few of the rogues who had disappeared after Mo had pointed out their destination, they weaved around the holes left by the go’phrin, and made i
t to the tree line without any broken ankles. There one of the rogues appeared and pointed out the direction they should head.

  They made it to another small clearing and all the rogues including Bonkers appeared.

  “There’s a weird bit’a scufflin that’a ways. Figured oi should check in instead stealing all the glory.”

  “Thanks for that.” Mo chuckled.

  Mo turned to face all the knockers. “Here’s the plan. We’ll form into four teams. Mephi, Ziggs and I will lead three of those. Bonkers you’ll lead the rogues. We’ll do hit and run damage in turns to keep the chicken turning around. Remember to run. We all want to stay alive through this. The rogues will take hits of opportunity. Kwaad you are not to engage under any circumstances. You are here in case the birds get hurt and need medical attention. Everyone understand?”

  Kwaad nodded through a muted chorus of mehs, unintelligible grumbles and sures that did nothing to inspire confidence.

  “Remember you’re here to raise your rep and get gold. For that to happen you need to make sure that you communicate well. Look at the men around you. Those men are your brothers. Held down by the same suffering you’ve endured. Now I ask you knockers, are you men?”

  With a bit more enthusiasm he heard a few yesses and grunts.

  “Let’s try this again. KNOCKERS!!!! ARE. YOU. MEN?”

  This time a chorus of yes rose into the forest.

  “Are you here to show the world that truth?” Mo roared.

  “YES.”

  “Will we protect our brothers?”

  “YES!”

  "Will we stay true to our word?”

  “YES!”

  “Will we raise our reputation to the sky?”

  “Yes!”

  “Do we want the experience points?”

  YES!”

  “Are we going to get this gold?”

  YES!”

  “SWEAR IT!!!”

  “WE SWEAR!!!”

  A golden glow rose over them all and Kwaad looked on in amazement

  “Then I think you’re ready. Remember, we need the chickens alive. I repeat, ALIVE!

 

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