The little tub looks nice too.
A stained glass window cut diagonally above the tub allows for some pretty good lighting. I get a kick out of the fact that the stained glass features Busty Gazongas, again squirting milk from her mammaries as she stomps a village to pieces.
“Giant art, am I right?” I ask Wolf as I twist the handle next to the faucet.
It takes a moment, and at first the water is a bit red, but soon, clear water flows from the faucet. Even better, it is lukewarm, rather than icy cold, which is what I expected it to be.
“I could use you now, Deathdale,” I say as I strip down and get in the tub. How can I forget her ability to warm things with her hand?
Wolf barks.
“Don’t worry, buddy, this isn’t that type of tub session. And don’t think I’ve forgotten what she did to you. Now, sit!”
He sits by the edge of the tub.
“I didn’t think that would work,” I tell him as I look into his big, blue-green eyes. “Oh that’s right, you can understand me better since I upped your MIND attribute points. All right, try this one: roll over.”
Wolf licks his lips and looks around, showing me that there really isn’t enough room for him to roll over, as I’ve requested.
“Play dead? Nope, too soon,” I say as I scratch him behind his ear. He gives me the deadpan look I deserve. “Here’s the deal, I’m going to wash my hair, and then you’re getting in here with me.”
Wolf barks and pulls away.
“Shhhh, Sam is resting, and you’re getting a bath whether you like it or not.”
(^_^)
Bathing Wolf is always harder than it seems, the scratches and bite marks on my body evidence of my struggle.
That said, the Tagvornin beast is clean. As he runs into the main bathroom shaking out the water in his fur, I realize that I don’t have a towel in my list, and there are no towels in the human-sized bathroom.
So I improvise.
My lavender cloak goes on and I strut into the main room, clean, wet, and ready to get some shuteye.
And for the record, cuddling, snuggling or any “feel copping” has not crossed my mind. I really am tired, and while Sam Raid the Illusionist and I had a connection, Sam Raid the Hourglass Mage and I may not.
Sam, who now rests on her elbows looking down from the bed, sees me and laughs. “You are such an idiot.”
“There were no towels, well, aside from giant-sized towels. I suppose I could have shimmied up there and rolled around on one of those towels. You know, you’d really be surprised how much this cloak has helped out. Sure, it’s not the best cloak one could buy, and it has absolutely no effect on my stats, but the color is apparently in season, or so I’ve been told.”
“There is a male’s robe beneath the bed. It’s folded. Do you see it?”
“I see it. No peeking.”
I slip into the robe and climb up the ladder. Sam may look different than she looked a couple of hours ago, but the spark behind her eyes is still there, and it feels incredibly nice to be with her alone for the first time since she took her new avatar.
She props herself up against the headboard and we talk for the next hour.
I go into detail about what happened in Drachma, leaving out the part about Deathdale and me hooking up (I’m not that dense!). Sam tells me about eating pastries – apparently, she already has – and Lothar taking her to a facility with a giant magnifying glass so that he could read the Book of Time.
Since Sam’s copy is thought to be the only one that exists, Lothar called on a few of his scholar friends to write down the history section of the book. They worked overnight while Sam slept, and they were respectful enough of the craft not to take down the extensive notes that annotate individual spells.
They did, however, index the spells for future reference.
“There will be another Hourglass Mage,” she says, finishing up her recap. “After my hourglass breaks.”
She cups it in her hands and stares down at it.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” I say, suddenly unable to look her in the eye.
“It’s fine.” She places the hourglass next to her, and brings the blanket up over her necklace. “But let’s not be stupid anymore. We were given these avatars and our abilities for a reason. I enjoy Unigaea, and it’s much more my style than Tritania.”
“There are other fantasy worlds too, besides Tritania. It’s not a binary option.”
“I know, and I can readily visit any of them in my ship. But Unigaea is just … well, you know, you’re permalogged here. It’s something special.”
“That it is.”
Sam turns to me and smiles. “I’ll show you soon, maybe tomorrow night.”
“Show me what?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
“Ha! Not that. I mean my ship. I’ll show you my ship. You’ll be impressed.”
“Your … spaceship?”
“Sure, my spaceship. That’s definitely what it is since it does technically travel through the Proxima Galaxy via the OMIB.”
“Orthogonal Matrix Inverse Base.”
“You’re getting smarter.”
“Put a few more points in MIND, and I’ll be speaking Chinese with a South Carolina accent.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Anyway, your ship.”
Wolf barks and I tell him he’s welcome on the bed if he can figure out how to use the ladder. He barks again, circles nervously, and finally relaxes onto the ground, his head between his paws.
“My ship is a part of me. I’ve spent ten years building it from nothing to what it is now. Anyway, I’m tired. Let’s rest, and after we’ve traveled all day tomorrow, I’ll take you there.”
“Lothar and Wolf too?”
She shakes her head. “Nope, just you.”
(^_^)
My dreams are boiling lava rushing through the terminal of the world’s busiest airport. There are faces, cries for help, heroic acts, death-defying action sequences, and throughout it all, the Obelisk floats overhead, tendrils of charged energy boiling off her body as the world comes to an end.
As everything dies.
Stater soldiers appear, and suddenly I’m at the bottom of a hill, prepped and ready for their charge.
They charge, followed by Stater soldiers on Tagvornin wolves. I brandish my Splintered Sword and cry out as I race to meet them all.
Rage.
RAGE!
My muscles bulge as I bring my weapon back and …
Instakill!
The scene cuts to Governor Florin Talonas on a balcony watching as an intense battle takes place before him. He’s in his princely finest, his blonde hair in a manbun, his cape freshly pressed.
I drop from the air and land in front of him.
Two buster swords appear in his hands and he strikes them together, sending a shockwave of electricity in my direction. The electricity throws me backwards through a window. The air knocked out of me, I equip a Magnolia pinecone IED and light the end.
I run to him and avoid Florin’s next strike as I throw my body into his. Pine cone in hand, I shove it into his chest just as it explodes.
Instakill!
I’m tossed backwards, my hand ripped to shreds, my vision a blur of bloody disruption.
Streamline time.
I awake in a cold sweat, Sam resting lightly next to me.
The morning sky is pink, the sun just now blooming on the horizon. I roll to my side, blink, and the experience I’ve just had reappears. I glance away from the light filled windows towards the front of the guesthouse.
I try to fall back asleep to no avail.
Sitting on the edge of the bed now, I look down to see Wolf resting at the foot of the ladder. I climb down and cuddle up next to him.
His hair smells like Blue Melon with a hint of dog. He’s snoring softly, and while he doesn’t turn to me when I cuddle up next to him, his ears twitch, letting me know he’s aware of my presence.
/> I feel the floor shake from outside the guesthouse. Wolf pops up and moves to the door, keeping low as he tracks the sound.
His ears relax and his tail starts to wag, signaling it is likely Lothar outside.
I go to the small door, and step out to find the giant sitting on a meditations box and reading a local newspaper. His oval glasses on his face and his red hair disheveled as ever, Lothar looks up from his paper and beams down at me. “Ready to go get some pastries?”
“I guess?”
“Well, get changed and we’ll go. We can surprise Sam.”
“I can’t wear my night robe?” I ask as I do a little circle. “I mean, is it really that bad?”
“I suppose you can wear it, but try not to show anyone your private parts.”
I laugh just as Wolf walks out the door and joins me. “I’m not really the flasher type.”
“Flasher?”
“Never mind. Wolf,” I turn to the Tagvornin canine, “stay here and watch Sam.”
He starts to whine.
“Are there any meat pastries?” I call up to Lothar.
“I believe there are.”
“Stay here, and I’ll bring you some yummy meat pastries,” I tell Wolf as I scratch him behind the ear. He whines and I ignore him.
“They are, um, for lack of a better term, giant-sized.”
“Aware,” I tell Lothar with a grin. “You’re going to fucking love these big ass pastries, Wolf.”
“Language, don’t forget.”
“Got it,” I tell the garrulous giant as we wind around his home and onto the main street. “Also, I was meaning to ask you, are your parents inside or something?” I nod over my shoulder at his house.
“Nope.”
“And you own the place?”
“I inherited it from an uncle. My parents live in another part of the city. I would live with them, but I prefer this district.”
“Why?”
“Closer to the pastry action,” he says, pointing at a carved wooden cupcake. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for treats.”
“They’re really that good?”
“I’ll make you a believer.”
Lothar and I stop to let a pair of lovebird giants holding hands cross in front of us. The female giant presses her head into the guy giant’s shoulder. She stands on her tippy toes and kisses him on the cheek.
“I’m all about giant love,” I say, which I immediately regret saying. “Sorry, sounded stupid.”
“No judgment here,” Lothar says on the tail end of a laugh.
We enter into a shop aptly named Pastry Giants and the guy at the counter, a heavyset man with triple E man boobs and a Michael Jordan Hitler mustache, greets Lothar by name.
“Hello, Henry!” Lothar stops the baker mid-sentence when he says, “Not my usual, today. I’m feeding two others! Commoners.”
“Three,” I remind him.
“I see,” the baker says, eying me suspiciously.
“Don’t worry, I’m not really a Player Killer,” I tell him as I equip my Masking Hat. “See?”
The baker looks to Lothar, who quickly changes the conversation away from my class to popular giant news topics which include some sport called Launch Rock, a scandal regarding a few giants at the Solidus academy who were caught cheating, and a speculative conversation on the Red Plague.
Crazy how superstitions spread faster than facts.
Lothar buys more pastries than we could ever possibly eat and we exit the bakery.
“Nice robe and hat!” a giant youth calls out to me. I’d give him a high five, but the big fucker could knock me all the way back to Metica, and then I’d have to rage and use narcotics to get back to Tael.
Lothar snorts as we turn onto his street. “You really look overly casual in your night robe and your farmer’s hat.”
“Would you prefer my lavender cloak, or should I be strutting around in my giant killer armor?”
“Giant slayer,” Lothar says as we push through the gate that leads to his backyard and the guest house.
Sam Raid waits out front with Wolf at her side. She sits cross-legged on a piece of giant lawn furniture, her Book of Time open in her lap. She looks up at us and smiles, the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes lifting.
Wolf races to meet me, barks, leaps into the air, and nearly brings me down.
“Hey!” I say as I try to get him under control. “Lothar, feed him before he eats me!”
Lothar drops a meat pie the size of a monster truck wheel on the ground.
Wolf looks to me, I give him the nod of approval, and he practically swan dives into the giant meat pie.
“There’s no way he can eat all that,” I say as Wolf gives it his best shot.
“We’ll see!” Lothar drags a table over and places the rest of the pastries on it. “I don’t have chairs, but you two can sit on the table itself.”
“That’s fine,” I say as I look up at the table. I could grapple up there to the top, as the space between the table and the ground is at least twelve feet, but that would take effort. “Got a ladder?” I ask the giant.
“I’ll give you a hand.”
Lothar bends and unfurls his palm before me.
This should be interesting, I think as I step into his palm. He lightly closes his fingers around me and seconds later, I’m standing on the actual table. He does the same for Sam.
“You get used to traveling like that,” she says.
“Really? This something you’ve been doing for a while?”
Lothar makes a point of cutting the pastries into as tiny slices as he can. Of course, these are still pretty large, so Sam further cuts the pastries using one of my knives.
Every now and then, I look over at the other side of the table to check on Wolf, only to find him still gorging himself on the meat pie.
I whistle down to him and tell him to ease up a bit. He flat out ignores me and continues his gorgefest.
Not long after, Wolf is comatose, lying on his side next to the remnants of the meat pie, his tongue hanging out of his mouth.
Chapter Seven: The First Artifact
It is no surprise that we leave a few hours later than normal. Our bellies full, Lothar even floats the idea of sticking around in Tael for a bit longer, but we’re on a mission, and a little after noon, we set off.
It is warmer as we leave the giant city, and the smell of baking pastries is strong in the air. I’m so full I couldn’t even look at another scone, and I’m happy for the walk ahead. Sam teases me some, Lothar asks stupid questions and simultaneously make genius observations, and Wolf marks his territory more often than not.
Predictably, it isn’t long before we encounter a group of mercenaries on our path. Six guys and three gals, each decked out in furs, armor, and big-ass boots. The men have beards, and by the looks of the ladies and their muscles, I’d say they have chest hair.
All are Player Characters, all level fifteen and above.
Nine in total, they are waiting for us on the winding road that connects Metica to Drachma. Their leader, a round man with a gnarly beard that extends well past his gut, carries a short ax with animal or human hair tacked into its grip.
We know why they’re here, and they know why they’re here, so we get down to it.
“Nice tassel,” I tell their leader as I unsheathe my Splintered Sword. I burp and apologize. “Sorry, big breakfast. Now where were we?” I flourish my weapon and point it at the group’s leader. “Let me guess, Stater sent you?”
Sam steps before me, her wand in hand. “You only get one warning – leave now. Go back to the southern lands, and your lives will be spared.”
“Ahem.” Lothar clears his throat and everyone strains to look up at the giant. “You are all Player Characters, are you not?”
“Some fucking smart NPC you got there,” one of the women mercs says, her voice tinged with sarcasm.
Wolf drops his shoulders and bares his teeth as he growls.
“Ah, so you are, well
good. You may have noticed the crimson sky, and have heard of its source, either through local reasoning, the Red Plague, or the real reason, a source code bomb. I trust you are aware of what that is.”
“Youth!”
Talk about springing into action! A pink blast from Sam’s wand strikes the leader, who screams like a sissy as pink smoke boils out of him. His body begins to shrink, his armor and fur staying the same size. Within moments, he is a crying infant trapped beneath the weight of a chest plate.
“Holy shit, Sam!”
The other mercs brandish their weapons, which range from clubs to swords to a pike with an ax head.
“What the hell are you?” the female sellsword asks, her pike at the ready.
Sam and I glance at each other; the sand in her hourglass rapidly falls in the opposite direction.
“Um, you feel like answering that?” I ask her.
“Who am I?” Sam laughs. “I’m your worst fucking nightmare!”
(^_^)
“My god, Sam, that was lame!” I shout as I meet the first mercenary swordsman.
A pink charge twirls at the base of Sam’s wrist. “It was the first one-liner that came to mind!”
“It was funny!” adds Lothar.
-59 HP!
I manage to get a small swipe in, at least enough to send my opponent stumbling backwards. “Wolf, protect Sam!”
I equip my electric shield with my other hand and not a moment too soon. One of the club-wielding sellswords brings his weapon down, and is given the shock of his life.
-166 HP! Critical hit!
“Argh!” He’s tossed backwards just as one of the females runs forward.
Her sword meets mine, and I’m suddenly blindsided by the guy with the pike. My giant slayer armor takes the brunt of the hit, but I still take damage, my forward momentum totally lost.
As my first opponent brings her arm back for a piercing attack, a tree stump hurled through the air takes her out.
Instakill!
I turn back to find Lothar gasping as he realizes what he’s just done.
“Fuck yeah!” A surge of motivating adrenaline rips through me.
Two mercenaries descend upon me just as Sam fires off another spell. “Temporal Decay!”
The Red Plague: A LitRPG Trilogy (The Last Warrior of Unigaea Book 3) Page 5