by Macronomicon
“Is tha’ Ron!?” the people clustered at the front hastily stood aside revealing a toothless Cajun, maybe into his fifties. The man’s chin protruded, his lips drawn in from lack of teeth.
He was thin, scrappy, and looked like the kind of guy with a million stories about squirrels.
“Yeah, Freeman, it’s Ron.” Eddie said, moving aside.
The toothless Cajun was also apparently their strongest fighter and leader. Not exactly what Jeb was expecting.
It takes all types, I guess.
“Ron! You ‘ere to ‘elp!?”
“I am,” Ron said, glancing at Jeb. “This guy here bribed me to come back. The deal is, any monster you bring me from now until until the raid, I’ll raise and send it along with you.”
“A’ knew yer a good kid!” Freeman said, drawing Ron into a great big hug. “E’en do dose zombos ‘r scary, he’s Just a boy listenin’ to too much ‘rockmusack,’ tryn’a look ‘cool’, ‘dat’s what a’ told ‘em.”
Jeb could barely understand what Freeman was saying.
“T-Thanks, I guess,” Ron said, patting Freeman on the back.
“C’min, c’min!” Freeman said, motioning for Ron to enter the save-zone. “Jus’ leave de zombos ‘ere, ey?”
“An’ you two?” Freeman asked, approaching into their personal space and smiling disarmingly at them.
Leader by charisma, I suppose, Jeb thought, soaking in the man’s overwhelming energy.
“Jessica, and Jeb,” Jessica said, pointing between them. “We met David yesterday.”
“Oh, you two! Good ta’ meetcha!” Freeman said, shaking their hands enthusiastically. “You’n yer boyfriend c’n sleep here t’night free if y’like. Only got one day left on the lease, after all, hah! But if you want som’n else, you’re gonna haft’a get it yourself or trade for it.”
“He’s not – Whatever.”
Freeman chuckled and patted Jeb on the shoulder before heading back into the safe zone, the group of freshly battle-hardened warriors melting out of his way.
Jeb shrugged and followed behind, ignoring the surrounding warriors as the camp spread out in front of them.
Damn. It had only been thirteen days, but the place almost looked like a little village, with two dozen hastily constructed houses with stretched leather roofs to keep out the rain.
There were about six campfires, and each of them had a thick knot of people sitting around it, sending the newcomers curious glances as they walked in.
Of particular note was the man and woman who looked like they’d been ripped right off the front of a fitness magazine sitting beside a huge pile of loot. Directly behind them was a huge sign written in charcoal that read:
Fuck my Wife: 1 Stat potion O.B.O.
Jeb felt his eyebrows climb his forehead. It made sense logically, but the way they just went for it was astounding.
Jessica followed his gaze and froze for an instant before she snorted. “You think that’s why David was so desperate to get his hands on the stat potion?”
“Why would anybody take that offer?” Jeb asked aloud. It was a stupid decision, because a stat potion was forever, directly aided a person’s ability to survive, was likely incredibly rare and valuable, while getting laid was… much less vital.
He asked, but he already knew the answer.
Because people who think they’re gonna die make stupid decisions to feel better.
In the end, one thing was clear: These were the people to trade with.
Jeb met up with Ron and handed off the potions and lens. As he’d predicted, Ron took the geysering lens. The necromancer had considered the poisonous one for a moment until Jeb pointed out that while his zombies were immune, Ron himself still needed to breathe, and he couldn’t actually see the poison. He threw in a normal lens as a goodwill gift.
Once he was done with Ron, Jeb’s feet – foot – steered him towards the little stall run by the couple.
“Hey there, haven’t seen you around before.” The woman said with a brilliant smile. These people look like they belong on a toothpaste commercial.
“Hi, I’m Jeb,” Jeb said, offering his hand, shaking the man’s hand.
“Brett.” The man said.
“Amanda.” The woman gave her name, shaking his hand as well.
“You guys the healer/soldier couple I heard about?” Jeb asked.
“That we are.”
“I heard you two do gear repair and trading?”
“We sure do.” Jeb was graced with another sparkling smile that nearly made him wince.
Jeb mentally rolled up his sleeves.
Let’s do this.
After a short time perusing their wares and haggling, Jeb was able to get a few of the crafting ingredients he’d been looking for, including a file and saw for his lenses, tweezers and metal springs, along with a couple magic items he hadn’t seen before:
A Mystical water boiler, clothing iron, double sided tape, and wooden clothes pins that floated, holding the object in question aloft without the need for a string.
They weren’t particularly sought after, so Jeb was able to trade some of the chaff from the volcano for them, chatting with the couple all the while.
As it turned out, they were, in essence, mercantile slutty health nuts that had been tanning their cheeks at Hedonism when the end of the world happened.
They hadn’t been in the same place at the time, but they’d both correctly assumed the other had taken the most extreme option.
Jess swung by partway and had Razorback fixed.
The Soldier simply took the item and winced as his entire body was covered with what appeared to be a sunburn.
Amanda simply reached out and tapped his shoulder. Jeb spotted a spark of silvery Myst transfer between them, and the burn went away.
Razorback, in return, regained the last foot of blade that had been melted away in the heart of an obsidian golem, looking as shiny and wicked as the day they’d looted it.
“How does it determine how much ‘damage’ to do to you?” Jeb asked, making air quotes.
“I don’t know,” Brett said, shaking his head, “Just gotta kind of eyeball it. Size and how broken it is seems to contribute, and whether there are missing pieces, like that sword there. It scales inversely with my Body. If I’d tried that when we first got started, I would have gotten more than just a little toasty.”
“I see.” Jeb said, rising to his feet – foot – propping himself up with his cane, his swath of gear dangling off his makeshift belt.
“Would you...like to buy a backpack?” Amanda asked, glancing at him quizzically.
“Yes.” Jeb admitted, the weight of his loot finally making it almost impossible to balance with a pegleg.
Jeb got himself a nice big duffle bag that could fit all of his shit, slung it over his shoulder, and was halfway to an open space, mind buzzing with possibilities, when he was approached by Freeman.
“Ev’nin,” Freeman said, nodding with a toothless grin as he approached “I her’bout de bargain wit’ Ron. Were ye planning on helpin’ wit’ dat? I gotta know whether I gotta dust off the knuckles.”
“Yeah, I was going to help.” Jeb said, thinking of the noxious lens in his duffle bag. He’d already thought of a way it could help with no refining it whatsoever.
Then Freeman did something unexpected.
“Hee!”
He made a high pitched grunt, somewhere between a frustrated groan and a squee. At the exact same time a bubble of Myst expanded outward from him, covering the distance between them in a fraction of a second.
Jeb whipped his hand up, and splayed his hand wide open, reflexively deploying his right-handed ‘shield’.
The oncoming bubble of Myst traveled straight through Jeb’s barrier, and engulfed him before rebounding, imploding back in on itself, sinking back into Freeman’s body.
“Did you just…ping me?” Jeb asked, frowning.
“God-DAMN, boy, you’s loaded fer bear!” Freeman said, stum
bling backward, eyeing Jeb’s ragged appearance with a raised brow. “I was gonna gi’ you tha’ speech ‘bout being careful, but mebbe I should warn the other guys!”
“What was that?” Jeb asked.
“Mah luck.”
“Huh?”
“Mama always said ‘better lucky ‘den smart’. I always been lucky. Jus’ now I figured out how lucky I’d need to be to beat ya in a stand-up fight. Pretty goddamn lucky, was the answer, sho’nuff. Well, lissen, you need help pullin in ‘dem bodies, you let Eddie or David know.”
“’Tween you’n’me, ‘dey both could use summat constructive to do.” Freeman whispered conspiratorially.
“Will do,” Jeb said, nodding.
Jeb found himself an empty spot on the fringe of the Safe Zone, and dropped his duffle bag, using it as something to lean against as he pulled the Noxious Flame lens out of his pocket.
Time to get to work, he thought, drawing the Myst in.
Mystic Trigger.
He took one of the springs, straightened it out by hand, then bent it around the lens until it was securely bound, then he tied a decent amount of Myst to the wire with the instructions to enter the Lens the moment it became more than ninety-nine feet away from him.
The trigger after that was bound to the activation of the one before, and so on… Gradually, Jeb covered the entire spool of wire with linked activation conditions.
It was tedious, mindless work that reminded him of braiding a rope.
There was no arbitrary limit to the number of triggers Jeb could make, but he did need to stop after each one and draw in Myst, keeping his star burning and expanding. This took only a minute or two, given the light workload.
The only limit was time and patience.
Patience, Jeb had, but time was in short supply.
After he’d linked fifty consecutive triggers to the lens, he stuffed it back in his pocket and pulled out the golf-ball sized lump of Pure Flame Lens.
Let’s see, the flame is either created at the focal point, or where it intersects with a solid. Either? Both?
Jeb pulled out his new file and was about to get to work when he realized a test run would probably serve him better than just going gung-ho on his fanciest lens and possibly destroying its value or incinerating himself.
Jeb pulled the worm lens out of his belt and sawed off the end of the stick, a chunk of rotten wood about the size of the pure flame lens.
Cutting a lens for the first time was interesting. It looked like a rotten stick, but when he cut into it, it didn’t have any kind of grain, and the resistance was uniform. The pieces that came off of the stick as he sawed were a fine dust, almost like he was cutting through chalk.
The ease at which his saw bit through the lens was informative. He’d have to be careful not to let his lenses get dented if they were this soft, but that also meant they would be exceedingly easy to work with.
That explains why they bury them in wands. They’re protective casings.
“Okay, let’s try this,” Jeb muttered, pulling out his file and going to town on the piece of wood, forming it into a rudimentary lens shape in a matter of minutes. Once it was close to being complete, he polished it up with a piece of leather and held it to the light to study.
It wasn’t machine perfect, but given the speed with which he’d created it, it was damn good. Jeb was actually fairly proud of himself. He’d never been particularly ‘crafty’, but the passive bonus from his class stacked on top of his Nerve seemed to compensate for his lack of experience.
“Alright, let’s try this out.”
Jeb held his hand out and pointed the worm lens in front of him, drawing Myst in, burning it, then siphoning it out through his palm, straight into the lens.
Let’s start with just a little bit, he thought, throttling his output way down.
A worm the size of a goddamn boa constrictor appeared in midair and flopped onto the ground in front of him.
It was at least five feet long and as big around as his wrist.
“Holy shit!” Jeb scooted back from the worm, which was wriggling around in confusion. It was so big, Jeb could see its little mouth opening and closing as it searched for the safety of the earth.
It still couldn’t hurt anybody, but who ever heard of an earthworm with a mouth big enough to stick a finger in?
“Okay, so the focus point is where the effect manifests.” Consistent with what he’d seen so far.
Then why did the annihilation lens destroy everything in a sphere? Too much Myst caused some kind of explosion? Maybe Jess saw a cone of destruction and attributed it to a sphere? Well, I’m sure I’ll find out.
Now, how much Myst can a lens this size take? Jeb had cut it about the same size as his pure flame lens for that express purpose. He didn’t want to break the thing, or make it blow up like the annihilation lens, so stress-testing it was a priority.
Jeb got up and walked out into the forest, setting the lens on a tree branch before walking back about fifty feet. Hopefully outside the range of the explosion, but still with decent visibility.
Jeb threaded his Myst across the distance and started making worms, doubling the output every time, until the lens failed.
Somewhere between creating a worm the size of a horse and the next step up, the lens cracked, sending a sensation back to him through his Myst, and to his ears. Instead of creating a worm the size of a city bus, the lens exploded and every surface within thirty feet of the lens was covered in writhing worms.
And that answers that, Jeb thought, paying close attention to the feel of the LSA, or ‘Last Safe Amount’.
Jeb mentally made a note never to go over the LSA with his Pure Flame Lens.
Hell, I probably shouldn’t even get close.
Still, I wonder how much fire a worm the size of a horse converts to? What’s the standard unit of measurement?
There were so many unanswered questions, and no time to answer them.
Jeb glanced up at the sun slowly marching inexorably across the sky. Not enough time at all. He had to shelve the lens experimenting until after the assault on the World Tortoise.
For now, it was time to get Ron his corpses.
Jeb hoped they beat the World Tortoise tomorrow, and everyone got to go home, but he planned for the worst.
He needed safety devices similar to his own that he could use to rescue people on command.
Perhaps an ejector seat? I might be able to swing that.
There were certain people he wanted to survive, no matter how doomed this particular expedition was.
I know, I know, I should be giving a hundred percent. To paraphrase a wise man, ‘planning for failure is worse than regular planning.’
Still I’m going to do everything I can to ensure we have the best possible shot, and failing that, convince them not to do it, and failing that…save the useful ones. Jeb wasn’t young enough to give a hundred percent to anything anymore.
Brett and Amanda were irreplaceable, essential to long-term survival. Ron was a huge boon. Jessica…well, she fought good, but he honestly didn’t know if she was any better or worse than the other fighters out there.
Still, she was a teammate, so he would do what he could to make sure she lived.
Now, the best way to accomplish these goals would be to weaken the Tortoise’s defenses while simultaneously raising our attack power.
With a thought, Jeb hoisted himself up, rising into the sky until he located the World Tortoise on the horizon, meandering around the edge of the forest.
Jeb raised himself up higher.
He could make a mad rush for the creature and try lobbing the noxious stone onto it from the side, fending off thousands of flying monsters in a heroic, suicidal mad dash…
But why?
Jeb flew up, and up, until the world tortoise looked like a regular tortoise, and the air started getting thin.
Then he flew above the creature, hovering directly over it, albeit a couple thousand feet up.
&n
bsp; Jeb took his bag full of aerial bombs and turned it inside out, sending them tumbling towards the creature’s shell. He then took the wire-wrapped Noxious Flame Lens out of his pocket and dropped it…
From above. It’s coming down from above.
Jeb’s heart-rate spiked, and he was forced to stop and take deep breaths as the dozen rocks and one fist-sized nugget of coal tumbled away from him.
He was broken out of his intrusive thoughts when the lens went boom.
The instant the lens got ninety-nine feet away from him, the first trigger activated, and Myst began steadily feeding into it, causing it to burst into flames. Huge gouts of pinkish flame and green-tinted smoke began pouring out of it as it fell, the fire reaching nearly thirty feet in every direction, and the poisonous smoke going much further.
Damn! Jeb thought, covering his mouth and flying away from the smoke, not eager to breathe the stuff rising up from beneath.
Jeb flew to the side and down, aiming to put some serious distance between himself and the weapon currently belting out fire and smoke.
The aerial bombs hit the tortoise’s shell with concussive blasts, sending out shockwaves and knocking down large swaths of the trees covering the tortoise’s shell. Jeb even thought he might have seen a piece of shell fly up, but he couldn’t tell for sure.
The parasites flew out of their little hidey holes, looking like undersea worms burrowed in coral. They swam into the air, absolutely furious. Behind them were giant panthers that ran on the air, insects the size of buses, things that almost looked like dragons, as well as dozens of other creatures that ran the gamut from simply gigantified, to downright bizarre.
They crowded the air, darkening the sky around the tortoise like a cloud, and there were still thousands of landbound critters crawling all over the tortoise’s back, looking for something to fight.
A moment later, the burning stone landed on the tortoise’s back, lighting the forest around it on fire with its constant blaze, and poisoning the creatures as they swirled around in alarm. They swiveled their heads, seemingly looking for the cause of their current predicament.
“Hey you sons of bitches!” Jeb shouted at the top of his lungs, waving his hands, flying his whole body in a stomach-churning loop. “Yeah, you! Come and get me assholes!”