He made his way back to the stairs, tucked his new scepter into one of the holes in his body, and did his best to climb the stairs one-armed.
Your Climb Skill is now Level 2!
Your Climb Skill is now Level 3!
AGL +1
After some time and repeated falls, he managed to make his way up to the door. He pushed on it, but it didn’t open. He pushed harder, and stopped once more stuffing threatened to bulge out of him. He didn’t have that much left, so this clearly wouldn’t work.
He clambered down the stairs once more, and looked around the basement. No way out, except...
PER +1
One window, high on the wall. About five feet up.
Threadbare looked to the dowel rod, picked it up, and smashed the window.
INT +1
Immediately, just like before, Pulsivar jumped up on the nearest shelf and fled through the newly-made exit. Much slower, and with a great deal more effort, Threadbare followed, fell a few times, kept trying until he got up there...
Your Climb Skill is now Level 4!
...And managed to squirm through the window.
AGL +1
He lay there for a bit, in the grass, watching the trees overhead. The wind swayed the branches in the sunlight, and he dared to hope that finally, just maybe, this particular ordeal was over.
“I think it came from over here!” Celia’s voice came from around the corner of the house. Tired, drained, and hurt, Threadbare clambered to his feet and ran as fast as he could toward her voice.
“Oh my gods! What happened to you?” Celia grabbed him up, then wrinkled her nose. “Ew ew ew you smell horrible! What is this— is this blood?” She went pale. Then she fled, shrieking, toward the front door. “Daddy! Threadbare’s dying!”
She hugged him to her so tight that she pushed the scepter well down into his body, without even noticing. The bear just clung to her and hugged her as best he could, with one arm gone. This time no glowy stuff happened, and he didn’t know why. Someone could have explained to him that Innocent Embrace only triggered if the target was injured or the caster had enough sanity to use it, but again, he probably wouldn’t have understood.
Not yet, anyway. He’d been through a lot, and he was starting to learn, learn and grow.
“Celia, what’s... wrong?” The old man burst into the front room as his blood-smeared daughter cried and thrust her toy at him.
“Oh dear heavens! Ah, let me... ugh, this is horrible. Give him here, give him here.”
“Can, hic, can I mend him without his arm? Will it stay that way?”
“Mend will work just fine, he’s a golem. The severed parts will dissolve from where they’re at and reattach as he’s mended, so it shouldn’t be a problem. No, don’t mend him yet, if there’s anything inside him the mending will seal it in. We’ll have to get the blood and filth off him first.” The old man held Threadbare at arm’s length, and cleared his throat. “Clean and Press!”
Instantly the grime fled Threadbare’s body. The old man nodded. “Now you can mend him.”
Celia shouted her “Mend” spell until he was whole again. Relieved, she hugged her best friend close. “Oh thank you thank you! And I even skilled up! Yay me...”
“Then it was worthwhile, whatever happened.” The old man frowned. “Er, what did happen? That wasn’t your blood, so whose was—”
“Wait a minute.” The little girl’s face turned into a mask of dawning comprehension. “You cleaned him in like an instant. How did you do that?”
The old man coughed, and reddened. “Ah, we’ll discuss that later. For now, let’s figure out how he got so bloody in the first—”
“You said you were low on sanity, and couldn’t do any more magic today! And that was a spell!”
“Well I was, I mean, it’s only a level one spell.”
“I’ve been doing the laundry for years, and you could have done it just like that with a level one spell? What the hell, Daddy?”
“Celia!”
“It’s like hours a week out of my life and you could have done that at any time? Seriously?”
“It’s a very important chore! You can’t depend on magic, you have to learn how to do things without—”
“Well why not teach me, then! I’m old enough to be a level five animator, why don’t you teach me that level one trick!”
“It’s not an animator trick, it’s a tailor skill—”
“Then teach me to be a tailor!”
“You’re not ready to make such life-altering decisions yet—”
“Not ready? Not ready! That’s all I ever hear from you is that I’m not ready!”
“No! There’s an upper limit, you can only ever have so many jobs! You can’t waste your potential with the trivial stuff—”
“But it wasn’t too trivial for you! And you’re okay with wasting my potential on doing laundry by hand! Seriously, what the hell?”
The old man stood bolt upright, glaring down at Celia. “I will not be talked to like this in my own house! Go to your room, young lady!”
“Fine!” Celia stormed upstairs, threw herself onto her bed, hugged Threadbare to her, and cried her eyes out.
Inside Threadbare, the scepter itched a bit. He settled into Celia’s embrace, and moved by new instincts, stroked her hair. He’d been frightened and upset when Celia and his creator started shouting, but it hadn’t come to a fight. Which was good, because he didn’t have any shelves around to drop on the old man and he was pretty sure the guy would be harder to take down than the rat king had been.
Outside, the light faded as dusk came on, and night covered the land. The little girl fell into a troubled sleep, and Threadbare settled into the crook of her arms. For now, at least, all was well with the world.
*****
In the dark of the night, in a sprawling hillside village set among several scrawny farms, a batwinged form settled onto the window of the largest house. It slunk in, peering with beady eyes, as it folded its wings against its scaly back.
Sitting up in bed, a blanket clutched to her voluptuous form, a raven-haired woman smiled sweetly at the imp. But the smile didn’t reach her eyes, which might as well have been chips of ice.
“Caminthraxus? You have a report to make? About the girl?”
“No, milady. About Caradon.”
“Ah... So the old man has figured it out, then?”
“Er, no. The old man has made no real progress with his research.”
“Then why do you waste my time?” Her tone didn’t change, but the imp knew how close he was to torment, right now, unless he found a way to make her happy.
The tiny demon shuddered, and tried to find his courage. “I, I learned that he keeps a set of scrolls within his house. An emergency stash. Many of them are spells that let the user command golems.”
Icy eyes gleamed. And a set of perfect white teeth smiled. “Ah. Yes, that will make things easier. I’ll send word on to the master, and we’ll see how he wants to use that information. Thank you Caminthraxus, you’ve done well.”
“Just my duty,” the lesser demon hissed. Then a motion on the bed drew his gaze to the figure next to the woman, just visible through the sheets. “Are you going to finish that one?”
The woman turned, and considered the man next to her. Drawn skin over shriveled bones, his paper-like eyelids moved up and down, as horrified eyes moved from her to the imp. Muscles thoroughly drained from the night’s earlier activities twitched, and the woman easily held him down with one red-nailed hand.
“Mmmm... no, I think I’m done. You can have what’s left.”
The imp grinned, showing teeth that Pulsivar would have envied, and moved in for the feast.
CHAPTER 4: QUESTS AND QUESTIONS
The tension in the house lasted for a few days. Celia spent most of her time in her room, playing with Threadbare. On the few occasions she left, for food or to use the toilet or whatever, she’d hurry back as quickly as possible.
Occasionally Threadbare heard Celia talking with Daddy downstairs. They didn’t shout, but his new-found social skills could hear the tension. The discussions were always short, and Celia usually showed up within a minute afterwards.
Threadbare spent a lot of time playing with Celia. It was good for a few more points of Charisma and Perception, and a few Adorable Skill level ups, not that he knew what was going on there. He just knew that the more time he spent around his little girl, the better he could understand how she was feeling.
But as the days went on, the attribute and skill bumps slowed down. The little bear had no way of knowing that the higher a primary attribute rose, the more time and practice it took to increase.
He did gain a small Int boost, as well. And his newly-grown intelligence was starting to comprehend a few words, here and there. Celia was the girl, he understood. Daddy was his creator, and Celia’s too, he guessed. Threadbare was his name. And Pulsivar was the cat, who was roundly cursed when the smell from the basement started emanating into the house proper.
That ended the stalemate between Daddy and Celia. He knocked on her door, humbly asked for her help in cleaning up Pulsivar’s mess, and agreed to take over the laundry from that point on. Celia enlisted Threadbare and her squad of stuffed toys for the task, and the lot of them marched downstairs, to look at the mess below. Flies had gotten in through the broken window and found the rot, and the hum of their eager feasting filled the basement. Spilled preserves sent up a sickly-sweet smell that mixed with the rotting rat flesh, and it was all the two humans could do to keep their lunches down.
“Um. I don’t suppose your cleaning spell will handle this?” Celia asked.
“If it could I wouldn’t need the help. My spell only works on textiles.”
“What’s a tek style?”
“Cloths, furs, that sort of thing.”
“Oh.”
“Well. Let’s make this a proper quest, then.” The old man blinked a few times, staring into the distance.
And to Threadbare’s surprise, a whole bunch of squiggles appeared in his vision.
CARADON GEARHART HAS OFFERED A PUBLIC QUEST!
DETAILS: CLEAN THE BASEMENT
REWARD: TWENTY-FIVE EXPERIENCE POINTS
COMPLETION: AUTOMATICALLY FULFILLED WHEN BASEMENT IS CLEAN
DO YOU WANT TO ACCEPT THIS QUEST? Y/N?
Annoyed, Threadbare willed “Yes!” and the squiggles disappeared. Stupid things!
But now the old man had a light glowy shine to him, for some reason. He didn’t know that only people who had accepted a quest from Caradon could see that shine.
Celia grinned, as she accepted the quest as well. “Yay! Twenty-five experience! Let’s get to it! Okay. Okay okay,” Celia said, glancing back to the six stuffed animals she’d brought. “Let me get my party going, then you can clean them.”
“Capital idea. I’ll handle Threadbare.”
“What do you mean? I’ll just tell him to—”
The old man shook his head, and pointed at Threadbare. “Command Golem: Clean this mess.”
Threadbare straightened up. He marched up to the old man, took the bucket of soapy water and scrub brush that the man offered, and got to work.
Celia shrugged. “Okay, I guess. Come on guys, hup to it!” The toys bumbled down around Threadbare, and contributed as best they could.
“So what happened in here anyway?” Celia asked. “I knew we had rats, but... this is a lot of them. I think. It’s really gross and I don’t want to look too hard at this.”
“As best as I can figure out, Pulsivar got trapped in here somehow and panicked, like he did in my workshop. He killed all the rats in a frenzy, tearing my shelving to pieces in the process, then broke the window to escape.” The old man rubbed his eyes. “That cat’s stronger than I thought. I’ll have to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t go monstrous.”
“He wouldn’t!” Celia turned to him, shocked. “He’s our kitty and he loves us!”
“He does love us. But there’s always a chance, and if his instincts are this violent, I can’t take the risk of inattention.”
Celia just stared up at him. After a time, the old man’s stern face softened, and he rubbed her frizzy red hair. “He’ll be fine, though. He probably won’t become anything dangerous. That cat’s five, if he was going to go bad he’d have done it by now.” He glanced back at the cellar, watching the glass chips and broken crockery get piled in one corner by the giraffe and dolly, as Threadbare tossed armloads of dead rodents into one of the few intact wooden crates. “What I wish I knew, was how Pulsivar got trapped down here in the first place. The glass was outside in the flower bed, so he came out that way. And I’m pretty sure he can’t get the basement door open by himself.” He shook his head, but his eyes slid back to watch Celia, catching the way she bit her lip. “It is a mystery.”
Long minutes passed. Threadbare got a couple of points of dexterity from chucking rat corpses and handling cleaning supplies. He paused every now and then to glance back at his family.
Finally, Celia swallowed hard. “I uh, I think I left the door open. The basement door.”
“Oh? Did you now?”
“I was washing Threadbare so I got the soap, and I might have left the door open. I guess... Pulsivar could have... gotten in. And maybe the door shut or something. It was shut when I came back in the house, so maybe he accidentally knocked the door shut. I guess.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t think anything of it! Threadbare had wiggled loose from the clothesline so I went looking for him, and then he was all bloody, and—” The little girl put two and two together and got three point five. “—Pulsivar must have grabbed him on his way down to the basement! Then the door shut and he panicked, and got the mess all over Threadbare! THAT’S where the blood came from!” Celia looked down, and her eyes went wide. “Oh gods I got it on my face when I hugged him oh gods... MRP!” She covered her mouth with both hands and ran upstairs, retching.
The old man looked after her, and nodded. “I knew you had it in you, girl. I’m proud of you,” he whispered. Then he turned around, and frowned as Threadbare tottered toward the stairs. “Here now, has the command worn off already? Command Golem: Clean this mess!”
Golden light flashed, and Threadbare went back to his task. But it didn’t stop him from worrying for his little girl, so he kept sneaking glances back toward the stairs. The old man took no notice of this, standing on the bottom stair, arms folded behind him, waiting for Celia’s return.
Eventually she did, wearing a different smock, looking pale. She shook as she stood at the head of the stairs, too afraid to come down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave the door open and this whole mess is because of me. I’m really sorry.”
“Celia...” The old man winced, as he walked upstairs, and folded her into his embrace. “No, I’m not mad at you Celia, it’s okay. You didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s not your fault. This is on Pulsivar, and even then he was panicked so I can’t truly blame him. It’s just bad luck, that’s all. And, look at it this way; Pulsivar saved us the trouble of having to chase the rats out.”
She snorted laughter into his chest, as she hugged her Daddy for all she was worth.
“In fact, I’m proud of you for confessing what you did... what you THOUGHT you’d done. So I’ve come to a big decision.”
“Yeah?”
“I was planning on stepping up your lessons, telling you some of the things I’ve been holding back. You’re mature enough to handle the truth now, I think.” A shadow passed across his face, unseen by the little girl or her bear. “Some of it, anyway. Bear with me, you’ll get the whole story in time.”
“Really?” She looked up at him, snuffling, but her eyes were filled with hope.
“Really.” He glanced back down to the basement. “Come on. The toys can’t reach everywhere. Get your gloves on, it’s time for us to do our part.”
At the end of the jo
b, Threadbare felt no different for being twenty-five experience points richer. It took the old man a few tries to get “Clean and Press” to work on him. Threadbare silently and uncomprehendingly watched his Magic Resistance skill kick up a notch. The old man saw nothing but a stubborn toy that couldn’t help but resist him.
“Golems,” the old man snorted. “I swear, that skill is more trouble than it’s worth, sometimes. Normally beneficial magic bypasses it, but since the golems don’t care if they’re dirty or clean, it doesn’t hurt them either way.”
“Is that how it works?”
“More or less.” The old man tossed Threadbare to her, then beckoned her back upstairs. “Come on. Let’s go to the back porch and break out the slate and notes. It’s a good day for lessons.”
With the promise of answers, Celia eagerly scrounged up the schooling supplies and followed her Daddy through the study, and onto the wooden porch overlooking the downward slope of the hill. The forest lay beyond, thick, towering trees blooming with springtime growth, birdsong heavy and filling the branches. In the distance she could just make out the river that marked the edge of their property, such that it was. As she watched, a brown figure stomped through the trees briefly, and she smiled to see it. The Raggedy Men were a familiar sight.
The old man took no notice of this, as he took the slate from her, and settled back into his chair. Producing a piece of chalk from his apron, he started scrawling on the slate.
“The thing that I must tell you, before anything else, is that the world was not always this way.”
“Uh, what?”
“Letters in the air. Little boosts to your fundamental qualities, for doing difficult tasks. Jobs, status screens, even quests... The world didn't work that way, forty years ago.”
Celia stared at him, uncomprehending. “How? That doesn’t even make any sense!”
“But that’s how it was.” The old man scrawled words on the slate, and crossed them off one by one.
“But... how did people learn skills without jobs?”
Threadbare Volume 1 Page 6