by Dan Thomas
Chopsticks laughed. “C’mon, Sam, we know what we’re doing.”
“I hope so,” Sam said.
(S Lvl 10) Heavy Attack: Spend 150 stamina for an attack dealing 150% damage and increased chance to stagger an opponent
(S Lvl 10) Attack Damage I: +15% additional attack damage with melee weapons
(S Lvl 15) Unarmed Combat: Learn the ability to perform basic unarmed punches and kicks
(S Lvl 15) Grip Strength I: +10% temporary Strength boost while climbing
“You’ve really only got one Strength Trait?” Sam asked.
“Hey, I thought that you were letting us handle this?” Chopsticks said.
“Against my better judgment.”
“Fear not. We’re top strategists,” Chopsticks announced. “So, what will it be, Max?”
Max shook his head at his friend. “I think I’m going to pick up Heavy Attack. I don’t really have any combat ability right now, and if I remember to use it as often as I can, it’ll be another way to build my Strength up faster, especially with the bonus experience from combat.”
“See, the guy knows his stuff,” Chopsticks said.
With no objections to his reasoning, Max confirmed his choice for the Heavy Attack Trait, knowing that with a thought to activate it when he swung a weapon, he’d be able to inflict a much more deadly injury on anything that decided his character would be worth the trouble of attacking.
He moved on to his Constitution.
(C Lvl 10) Tough Skin: +5% Passive armor [sharp and piercing]
(C Lvl 15) Rough Landing: Take 10% less damage on an unsuccessful landing from a high fall
(C Lvl 20) Endurance II: +10% Additional Stamina
(C Lvl 20) Brace I: Take 20% less damage from all damage types for 1 second
Recovery: 30 seconds
“Anything to make me more durable is useful at this point.” Max eyed his option. “And while the Stamina is always going to be useful, I think Brace is always an important Trait.”’
“Couldn’t agree more,” Chopsticks said dandily.
Max waited for Sam to interject, but when she didn’t, Max choose Brace. Some things just couldn’t be blocked or avoided and being able to ignore a flat percentage of that damage with a well-timed Brace had saved Holic’s life more times than Max could count.
He moved on to the next Trait Tree, Dexterity.
(D Lvl 5) Heavy Handed: 10% decrease likelihood to ruin anything incorrectly harvested
(D Lvl 10) Refining Knack: -5% wasted material when refining raw resources
(D Lvl 15) Basic Construction: The ability to work with larger materials to create primitive structures
“Phew,” Max said as he looked at his options. “It’s gotta be Construction, I’m just glad that it’s been made available.”
“It’s almost liked the game understands that there’s a vague order to progression,” Chopsticks said with only a hint of sarcasm.
“All right, I’m just glad I don’t need to spend time getting any more levels before we can move on.” Max selected the Trait, confirmed his choice, and moved on to his highest current Stat, Agility.
(A Lvl 5) Dash: Burst of speed, gain +25% run speed for 5s, using double the amount of stamina
Recovery: 30s
(A Lvl 15) Center of Balance: +25% chance to automatically save yourself from falling when tripped
(A Lvl 20) Creep: -10% passive noise when attempting stealth
(A Lvl 20) Shirk: It is much easier and costs less stamina to shake off objects and plants grabbing onto you
(A Lvl 25) Side Step: Dash 1 yard in a chosen direction, consuming 60 Stamina
(A Lvl 25) Cragsman I: Gain the ability to see safe handholds within reach
(A Lvl 30) Self-Preservation: Slight chance to automatically react to a life-threatening situation
(A Lvl 30) Terraining III: Jogging through rough terrain is as easy as walking
“That’s a lot of Traits, and you don’t have a lot of Trait Points,” Chopsticks remarked.
“It’s okay, remember that in another twenty levels Max is going to get an extra five points to spend,” Sam said. “And besides, options are good. Remember how many Traits our characters have that have been left unlocked from thirty levels ago or more. Look, you still haven’t even gotten Self-Preservation or Sundial.”
“I don’t need Self-Preservation, I’ve got the reflexes of a cat, no...” Chopsticks paused. “Like a tiger! I don’t need any help, and I’ve spent the Trait Points on faster dodges anyway. And Sundial? Pff, I don’t need to know the time of day.”
“Whatever you say.” Sam chuckled. “But the real question is, what’s going to help Max most?”
“I think Self-Preservation is a given. If my character can take a part in keeping itself alive, it’ll take some of the load off of me, because this is starting to stress me out.” Max laughed wearily.
“Okay,” Sam said thoughtfully. “Why don’t you go for Cragsman as well? Climbing has served you well so far, and it’ll help you stay out of reach if you have to run like that again.”
“Really?” Max asked. “But what about Dash, or Sidestep? I don’t even have a dodge yet; I’m relying on just running in the direction away from danger. That’s not always going to be fast enough.”
“A dodge isn’t going to help you if you’re falling to your death,” Sam said. “Besides, you’ve got Brace, that should keep you alive if you do run into danger.”
Max looked back at his Trait Tree. He still had a little way to go until it reached level 50, but once there, he could scoop up a few of the Traits he was missing out on.
“All right, Self-Preservation, and Cragsman. I guess anything that’s going to help me travel home easier is a priority here. I sure wish that I’d had those earlier, though.” Max spent his points on the two Traits.
“Now that that’s out of the way, I better start building this raft.” Max closed the screens down.
Max got up and began dragging the tree trunks so that they were parallel to one another, about five feet apart. He then took the straighter, thicker branches that he had cut off, and started laying them across the two logs, easily filling up the space, though many of the branches were thinner and flimsier than Max would have liked.
“There’s the frame, normally I’d just leave it at that, but I’m guessing I’m going to want something a bit more buoyant to stop me from sinking in this river,” Max said.
“Oh, yeah.” Chopsticks slurped at a drink. “Trust me, you’re going to want something just a bit better than a floating pallet.”
Max had a bad feeling about this. The Kukunuts were incredibly buoyant, and some people even used them for delivering items down streams. You just had to empty them first. Max grabbed his axe and one of the football-sized Kukunuts, kneeling next to it. The shell was smooth, almost glossy, with a walnut-like grain, showing its ripeness. But it was just that ripeness that was the worst thing about them.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
He hacked once at the shell with his axe, making a wet thunk noise as it pierced it. Max hurriedly pulled it back out and tipped the nut over, thick, dark liquid oozing out onto the mud.
The stench hit him like a brick wall, and he coughed, screwing his face up at the odor.
“That’s gotta be genuinely the most disgusting thing I have ever smelled.” Max coughed.
Chopsticks snickered. “I dunno, have you smelled my mom’s cooking?”
“Hey! I love your mom’s cooking!” Max retorted with a laugh.
“So do I, but I couldn’t think of a Yo Mama joke,” Chopsticks said.
“Dammit, Chopsticks.” Max turned his gaze back to the pile of nuts and stopped laughing. This was going to be a grim task.
He wrinkled his nose as he stared down at the rest of the Kukunuts. Kneeling, he took hold of the next one and sliced a deep gash in the hard shell. His stomach roiled and he covered his mouth with his hand. He’d hoped the first Kukunut was just especially rotten an
d the smell came from its putrefied innards. He was wrong.
Pushing himself up to a standing position, he went back to his fire and stoked the embers, adjusting the wood he had tossed on that hadn’t quite caught. He knelt beside the fire and blew on it gently until a small flame flickered to life. Carefully, he fed a smaller dry piece of wood to the flame. It flared as it licked the edges of the wood and Max blew on it once more to get the sticks to catch before adding another couple of twigs. Once the fire was good and hot, he went to the trees nearer the river and stripped off the damp bark. Running back to the fire, he sprinkled the damp bark onto the flames. Immediately he was engulfed in thick smoke.
Covering his nose and mouth with his arm, he ran back to the pile and began rolling the nuts downwind of the smoke. Once he’d moved all the nuts over, he sat down and began cracking open the Kukunuts one at a time in rapid succession. The acrid smoke from the fire covered him and drowned out most of the Kukunut juice stink. Developing a rhythm, he cut the outer shell of the Kukunut and then turned it over and placed it on the ground, so the juices were absorbed into the mud. Then he hacked a hole in the next one, and the next one.
His eyes streamed and his lungs were on fire by the time he’d worked his way through the pile and carried the now empty and much lighter Kukunuts back to the slender tree trunks, but at least he didn’t feel like vomiting.
“Done.” He flopped down on the ground and rolled his shoulder to ease the deep ache between his shoulder blades, which still reached a throbbing pain in his damaged arm.
“Let’s put this sucker together,” Chopsticks said as if he were there on the riverbank with Max.
“I guess I’ll be able to take a rest on the raft.” Max sat looking at the work that still had to be done.
Getting up, he gathered his rope bundle and began tying the branches that lay across the logs, forming the platform Max would stand on. He was grateful to be able to build even the haphazard raft; if he hadn’t been able to unlock the Construction Trait, his character would simply fumble with any attempt he made, and he’d be constantly dropping his materials as he tried to work with them. With higher levels, he’d be able to tie everything tighter together, and even spend a little time chiseling the wood to fit better and judge distances without measuring them, but that was for another time.
After he finished tying down one side and got halfway down the next, Max looked at his rapidly shrinking length of rope with dismay.
“I’m not going to have enough cordage to finish this,” Max announced. “I was going to tie the nuts on like beads, but I don’t have enough rope for it.”
“Looks like you might be getting in the water on just the wood raft then.” Chopsticks paused. “Yeah, you’re going to struggle with just that.”
Max finished tying off a knot and then halted his progress. “I could look for something fibrous. It could take ages, though; the Strangler Vines don’t really grow near the water.” He looked at the steep climb up an embankment that would take him farther inland and back into the jungle.
He heard Chopsticks click his fingers. “Oh, I know! Do you still have that sail?”
Max raised an eyebrow at his rough construction. “You want me to make a mast? I think a sailboat is a little out of the question right now.”
“For a clever guy, you often think inside the box too much,” Chopsticks scolded fondly. “Instead of tying each of the nuts individually, bundle them into the sail, and you’ll have your own swim bladder!”
Max thought about it for a moment. “Huh.”
He reached into his bag and pulled out the folded sailcloth, unfolding it and laying it out on the ground. He then began rolling the empty Kukunuts onto the cloth, taking a few minutes to move all of them.
He gathered up the edges of the sail and brought them together, using a piece of the remaining rope to tie it in a bundle. He then dragged the bundle until it was mostly underneath the platform of his raft and used what was left of the rope to secure it on as best, he could.
He just hoped that it wouldn’t shift and capsize the raft.
With a heavy sigh and grumbling stomach, Max sifted through the remains of the stick pile, pulling out the longest branch left, which was about half his height again. He could use it as a pole to try to guide the raft downstream.
“It’s not exactly pretty, is it?” Chopsticks mused as Max stood back and admired his handiwork.
“Nope, but then it doesn’t have to be. All it has to do is float.” Max eyed the flowing river with some trepidation. The water was cold and uninviting, and he wouldn’t know if his raft would float until he launched it onto the river and jumped on.
Going back to the fire, he kicked dirt over the embers and checked the area for anything he might have left behind. Double-checking that he had his axe securely stowed to his belt, he went back to his raft and knelt beside it, giving it a quick once-over, checking the knots and the strength of the branches by leaning on them. He’d never hear the end of it if the raft fell apart and he fell into the water.
“It all looks good. Push it into the water and see if it sinks, uh, floats,” Chopsticks encouraged.
“It’ll float, but whether it’ll stay afloat when I’m out there in the current is another thing.” Max stood up straight and studied the river for a few moments.
The river flowed fast, and the current brought whatever was floating along its surface toward the bank where Max was about to push off from. Which meant as soon as he stepped onto the raft, he would be fighting the river until he could reach the deeper center. From there, he would ride the current downstream, using the long pole to keep the raft away from sharp rocks.
“You’re going to get wet,” Chopsticks said.
“I know.” Max placed the long pole on the raft. He bent down, grasping the back of his creation, then shoved, kicked, and manhandled the raft toward the shore, which wasn’t easy going with his handicaps.
It lurched forward as he hit the edge of the bank, splashing water up into the air. The river was cold where it flowed over his feet. As the water rose to his calves, his feet were already numb, along with his fingers, which gripped the raft tightly to stop the current from ripping it from his grasp.
Max trudged through the thick mud at the edge of the river, trying to concentrate on what lay ahead rather than what might be lurking under his feet. His toe snagged on a rock and he jumped, waiting for a prehistoric water creature to attack, but it was just a rock.
The river was up to his thighs when he decided to climb aboard the raft. Any deeper and he’d struggle to clamber on board.
He steadied the raft with his right hand, holding it as still as he could against the current.
Max tried to hop up, but every time his feet left the soft riverbed, the raft began to drift away from him, and he quickly planted his feet again, grunting with the impact on his ankle.
Max took a deep breath, he was never going to make any progress like this, he’d just have to bite the bullet.
He launched himself up through the water, landing like a seal with his body flat onto the uneven platform. As his chin hit the wood, he felt the current grasp the raft. He was on the move.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Trying to wiggle his way farther onto the raft, Max held on tightly as it weaved down the river on the current, taking him wherever it pleased. There was nothing Max could do; he was powerless against the river. Even out here in the wide-open where the high-sided cliffs no longer forced the water to crash against large rocks and spill back upon itself, it was a magnificent force, capable of washing away the mud along the banks.
“Lying down on the job, huh?” Sam asked as she came back into the room.
“Nope, just felt like a swim,” Max grunted.
His foot snagged against a rock again where it hung off the platform.
Only this time the rock moved. Something long and sinuous slithered along the inside of his leg.
“What is it?” Chopsticks asked excitedly as
Max yelped.
“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know.” Max clenched his stomach muscles, flicked his legs up out of the water, and kicked back down as he pulled himself forward with his good arm. He straightened his body and rolled, managing to get his legs onto the small raft.
“Get up, Max, and start paddling.” The urgency in Sam’s voice made him lift his weary head off the Kukunut raft.
He was heading straight for a clump of rocks sitting just below the surface that would tear the nuts off the raft and spit them out into the river, Murf along with them.
Grabbing the pole with his good arm, he levered himself up to a sitting position. The raft jostled along, skimming over the water on its journey to Doomsville. Max gritted his teeth against the pain in his shoulder and leaned heavily on the slender pole as he hauled himself to his feet.
He groaned as he spread his feet hip-width apart and grasped the pole in two hands, wincing from the strain on his injured arm. Pushing the pole into the water, he waited for the end to dig into the soft riverbed. The water here was shallower than he thought, and he jarred his body as the raft slowed suddenly. Max pushed the raft away from the rocks with the pole before yanking it out of the water and repeating the motion.
The raft gradually altered course. Max was no longer heading for a collision with the rocks along the left bank. Grunting, he pushed the pole down again, hit the riverbed, and pulled it back up in a steady repetitive action, ignoring the dull aches in his arm, shoulder, and back. His breathing rate increased as he used stamina and his ribs began to hurt more and more.
Nothing was actually broken since this was just a game. However, that didn’t stop a chill from spreading through his soaked flesh, a chill that seeped into his bones and made his fingers stiff as they gripped the pole.
His concentration ebbed along with his stamina as he put some distance between the raft and the bank. If he could maintain the rhythm of his punts, he would reach the center of the river and ride the current farther downstream with little effort.