“Thanks,” I said. I tossed him a gold coin. He tried to catch it, but he missed by a wide margin. We entered the personal space.
Carl: We’re in the space now. It doesn’t look like we can get to a Desperado Club easily, so you’re gonna have to run it. Katia is coming over now to help with the coordination. Remind those guys that it has to be quick. How many bubbles are we doing?
Imani: Only eight bubbles have met the requirements. The eighth one only has one crawler in it. It’s just over 500 crawlers total, and most of them are in the first four groups. There’s several more begging for our help, but they’re gonna have to wait until phase two.
In order for us to help people trapped inside bubbles, they had to meet a few requirements. First, they needed someone with access to the Desperado Club. Second, all survivors of the bubble had to be in the same quadrant.
This second requirement was a tough one. We could only feasibly open one gate per bubble. It meant three of the four castles had to be taken, everyone else had to be dead, or some combination thereof. Sometimes people weren’t 100% sure if another quadrant was empty of crawlers. Those guys got put on the standby list. We didn’t do it to be assholes, but we weren’t about to unleash a feral god in a closed bubble filled with crawlers who couldn’t escape.
That rule was instituted by Imani in exchange for her helping with this. She absolutely would not help a bubble’s population escape if it meant leaving someone behind, even if it was only one person.
Elle, apparently, had a knack for telling if someone was lying. She, Katia, and Imani were conducting the interviews at the Desperado, and she’d already weeded a few crawlers out after it was determined they were lying about the populations of their quadrants. Honestly, I was glad I wasn’t a part of the process. I really wished there was a way to mass-pop bubbles, but if a god such as Emberus couldn’t get inside one, then it didn’t seem possible.
We still had three days left. We told everyone who didn’t meet the requirements to do their best. We’d help in any way we could, but there was only so much we could do.
Donut: ALSO, TELL THEM THAT IF THEY TRY TO STEAL THE GATE, CARL WILL RIP THEIR ARMS OFF LIKE HE DID TO QUAN.
Imani: Did you really rip his arm off?
Donut: ALL THE WAY TO THE SHOULDER. IT CAME OFF LIKE A PIECE OF CHICKEN. CARL KEPT THE ARM AND IS GOING TO USE IT AS A BACK SCRATCHER.
Elle: God, I hope they put that on the show tonight.
Carl: Remind them how dangerous it is. Don’t linger. Just hop right through and stay away from the open gate.
The plan was pretty simple. Everyone in each group had to gather outside the entrance of the Desperado Club in their bubble. The person in the first group would enter and obtain the gate pieces. Once outside, they’d dial into the coordinates provided by Katia, and the gate would open. Since the distance wasn’t that great, the amount of time was usually less than a minute for the portal to open. The gate would open, and they’d all go through. They would end up in Hump Town just outside the Desperado. The gatekeeper would be the last. The moment they went through, the gate would close, and a feral god would appear in their still-closed bubble. While this was happening, the gatekeeper would return to the Desperado and hand the gate to the next in line, who would do it all over again.
Once the gate was handed off, Langley’s team would escort the refugees to the stairwell, where they would descend. We didn’t want a huge crowd gathering atop the bowl—which was now a half bowl thanks to Orthrus—so we made it a rule they had to descend immediately.
If phase one went smoothly, this whole process would take about a half hour.
By the time we were done, there’d be eight feral gods trapped in bubbles and quite possibly eight real gods prowling around the lacuna looking for them.
The last thing we wanted was eight more world quests like the last one. It was a risk that could very easily backfire in a dozen different ways. Mordecai’s advice was for everybody to just stay in their saferooms if a god attacked their world. He or she would eventually go away, especially if another god started roaming around nearby.
“Gods have a tendency to either fight or start fucking—usually both—when they encounter each other outside the twelfth floor,” Mordecai had said when we started planning this. “The best way to distract a god is with another god. When that happens, they get unsummoned pretty quickly. I’ve seen it happen a dozen times.”
I had two major worries with this plan. One was that Grull—or some other sponsored deity—would get summoned and would make a beeline toward our world to screw everything up. A second was that Maggie, who was pinging around our bubble somewhere, would try the same. We’d ferried Gwen’s team up onto the bowl, and they were acting as lookouts, but so far nobody had seen signs of her.
Imani: Okay, everybody. We’re going to start the extractions. Pass it on to all of your contacts. If you’re not a part of the groups, get to a saferoom. If your bubble is popped, it’s probably a good idea to go down the stairs. If you see a god, call it out in the chat so we can keep track of them all.
“Here we go,” I said out loud. There was nobody in here except the dromedarians and changelings.
I’d sent Louis out to escort Katia to the Desperado. After, he and Firas would help wrangle the refugees. He’d blurted out a few things about our bathroom being “haunted” and was about to say something else, but Katia had put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed so hard, even he finally realized to shut the hell up. Still, an observant fan would probably figure out what he was yammering about. I hoped any such revelations would get lost in the noise. I sent Donut into her room to observe her social media board. If she saw any hints that the masses suspected what we were really planning, she’d warn us.
Mordecai was back in the crafting room, working on the second potion he’d made with the yam. Each one only took about an eighth of the vegetable, and I told him we better have at least three, one for me, Katia, and Donut.
At this point, there wasn’t anything else I could do but wait. On the main screen in the saferoom, the kids were watching The Last Unicorn. Juice Box was in her human form with little Bonnie the gnome sitting on her lap. I watched the woman for a few moments as she stroked the kid’s head. I thought of all the NPCs I’d killed on this floor.
I thought of the tens of thousands we were planning on killing during phase four of the plan.
They’re better off dead. We are freeing them.
I thought of Coolie, the cookbook author who’d sacrificed everything just in an attempt to kill two admins. I thought of Priestly, who wrote the 14th edition and was the single best source of info on the ninth floor. I wondered what either would do in my situation.
Coolie would do exactly what you’re doing. Priestly would not.
But first, Donut and I needed to make it back to bubble 543. We were planning on making the journey tomorrow, after phase two.
But we weren’t going to risk it if there were a bunch of crazed gods running around out there. This next hour was crucial, and it would determine what happened next. The fact I wasn’t actively participating was driving me up the wall. I’d been purposely putting off opening my boxes so I’d have a distraction.
Everyone else had already opened their platinum quest boxes. Most everyone got great stuff. Most of it was spell books. Donut received a tome of Twinkle Toes, a cheap spell which made Mongo—or any other minion—run really fast for as many seconds as her intelligence level. She’d been pretty excited about it.
Katia also received a spell called Hanzo, which drew mobs closer to her. Louis and Firas also got spellbooks, but I wasn’t sure what. Gwen got a new spear she was pretty stoked about. Tran received a subscription box similar to Donut’s tome of the floor club, but for scrolls.
I moved to open my achievements now.
An organ played hymnal music as this first achievement appeared.
New Achievement! Man of God!
Ever since that first monkey looked up into the sky and saw somet
hing twinkling up there, you meat puppets have tried to force twenty pounds of existential meaning into a ten pound sack of chaos.
You have found religion! You have pledged yourself to a life of worship and piety! Finally. Now there are consequences for all of your actions!
Reward: One of the greatest things about having a religion is the unshakeable certainty that you’re right and everyone else who doesn’t believe the same as you is wrong! That’s a pretty good reward. Oh, and don’t forget about the eternal life thing, too. That’s always one of their big selling points.
I grunted with amusement. A little changeling kid sat at the end of the kitchen bar and was staring at me. I looked at him and said, “The System AI is totally going to hell.”
“Okay,” the kid replied, not appreciating my lame attempt at humor. He turned back to the movie.
New Achievement! Disarming Personality!
You ripped a fellow crawler’s arm off! With your bare hands! Holy shit!
Reward: You’ve received a Silver Savage Box!
I received a few other airplane-related ones plus an achievement for sustaining a certain amount of damage while invulnerable, but each only resulted in low-tier adventurer boxes that contained nothing special except another potion of dinosaur repellent.
I only had two more boxes to open. My fan box still had another twelve hours on it.
This was my first savage box. They were meant for player killers, and I was not looking forward to whatever this was. I wanted to avoid getting a skull if I could. I cringed as the box opened.
A pair of handcuffs popped out. They were encased in red, fuzzy velvet.
Enchanted Handcuffs.
My safe word is, “Harder, Daddy.”
You know what these are. Your mom had a pair in her drawer, and your dad was probably no stranger to these things, either.
Used to lock a person’s arms together at the wrist. This set of novelty handcuffs is magically reinforced. Requires a strength of at least 200 to break. There’s no key. These are locked and unlocked magically by you. You may also institute an optional safe word or phrase that disengages.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I said, putting the fuzzy handcuffs away.
The platinum quest box contained a magical tome. I picked the book up and turned it over in my hands. The black, leather hardback was warm to the touch and had a skull on the cover. I looked up at the ceiling and grinned. “It’s nice to see we’re on the same wavelength for once.” I opened the book, which caused it to glow. The spell added itself to my list.
Ping
Cost: 5 Mana
Also known as, “Here piggy, piggy,” or “The Night Dread,” Ping is a hunting and artillery-aiming tool for those who do not care if their quarry knows they’re coming.
The elven gunnery officers of the Dream all learn this spell the moment they hit adulthood. Anyone who sits in a trench lives in abject terror of the noise this spell creates.
Target: An area of one kilometer around the caster plus 500 meters for every ten points of intelligence. Environmental factors and obstacles may increase or decrease range.
Duration: Instantaneous. Ping travels at the speed of sound.
Cooldown: Five minutes.
Sends out an audible ping that gives the distance and location of all non-crawlers and non-red-tagged mobs in a circle around you. It will mark targets beyond the range of your map. Targets hit with Ping will hear an audible ping noise, but they will not know from where the ping originates.
Higher levels increases the amount of information about the target.
At level 5, you may imbue the ping with Fear.
It was disappointing that the spell didn’t work on mobs or crawlers, but that was okay. This was a spell meant to be used on the sixth and ninth floor. It would find NPCs, and more importantly, it would find both elites and hunters.
Katia: It worked! The first group is coming through now.
Donut: DID THE GUY STEAL THE GATE?
Katia: No, he’s through and has already handed it off to the next group. They came through really fast.
Louis: They’re all crying, they’re so happy. A hot orc chick just hugged me.
Firas: That was totally a dude. And don’t let Juice Box know.
Carl: Okay, good. Keep me updated.
I hunkered down and waited for the hammer to fall.
33
Larracos is like a dream. It is a living, breathing poem. A song. One that marks itself indelibly onto your bones the moment you experience it the first time. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s an inverted funnel of museums and galleries and colleges and of color. The NPCs live here. They have purpose and life. For the first time since we have been dragged into this horror, I feel awe and wonder and something other than rage. But it is a tainted and fleeting feeling. This city should not be here. It is too beautiful to be used in such a terrible, senseless way.
I still don’t fully understand the fable with the volcano and the centipede at the bottom and what sort of metaphor, if any, it’s supposed to represent, but whoever designed this wonder at the center of the ninth floor was someone who appreciates fine detail and the art of turning the mundane into visual music. It is too beautiful, too real not to be a copy of someplace that truly existed, and it is difficult for my mind to make sense of it. For the first time, I don’t know where the real ends and the nightmare begins, and it has taken my breath away.
The Semeru dwarves supposedly built it, but they don’t control the city. Not anymore. They’re still around, mostly in the pubs. They’re also the non-combatant caretakers of the inverted castle, which sits in the center of the city at the bottom of the well.
The diameter of Larracos isn’t that great. It’s smaller than some of the cities on the Hunting Grounds. But the city itself has layers, going deeper and deeper, like an inverted cone. My culture has a story of a people who built a tower to reach the gods before the gods struck it down and scattered them all. I believe that legend is what this city represents. The Semeru were attempting to reach the Celestials who live not above, but below them. This action somehow awakened Scolopendra at the very base of the volcano.
This city thrives. Each level is something new and exciting. There are districts. One with theaters. Museums. Colleges filled with bright-eyed NPC students. Temples. Stores. Tonight, before we are expelled, I plan on sitting down and enjoying a play. A play, in this place. Can you believe it?
I will draw a map for you. The one Milk drew is still good, but it lacks detail.
The alien beasts congregate in the pleasure districts. I don’t dare venture down there, lest my impression of this fantasy is tainted. That’s where one may find the Desperado Club and the brothels. It’s where they hire their mercenaries, though I hear those markets are already bled dry. It’s where they trade their wares and buy their weapons from the murderers who cleaved through us like chaff on that nightmare of a sixth floor.
The aliens get expelled when we do. Less than thirty hours until the fighting begins.
They’ll be back. Once only three armies remain, they’ll be able to re-enter the city, and it will be destroyed. They say by the time the fighting is over, none of these NPCs are left alive. None of these buildings stand. It is all destroyed in the pursuit of an imaginary prize. This makes my heart hurt. This volcano world is obviously a fairy tale. But is this city real? It looks real. It smells real. There is history here. And if so, what’s the purpose of giving this to us? To show us a wonder that once existed, to remind us that they don’t care what they destroy? To beat us further into submission?
And what of the NPCs? What of their suffering?
I fear what will happen to my mind when I see it destroyed.
After an hour, it became clear that phase one was a rousing success. It was frustrating that nobody was left to see what specific feral god was summoned, though we did manage to get info on a few of the bubbles. The second-to
-last bubble was right next to Elle and Imani’s world, and Elle braved going out there to take a look. Whatever had been summoned was much too big for the bubble and had simply exploded when it appeared, filling the interior ball with gore. A minute later, the bubble automatically opened on its own—apparently because the explosion killed the remaining defenders—and it caused all the gore to slop out into the lacuna. The entire level with now filled with a horrific stench. Elle said it was absolutely unbearable in their area.
Another crawler reported that a nearby bubble had a massive turkey inside of it, about the same size of Orthrus. That bubble, too, broke on its own, and now the feral turkey god was hopping about, randomly pecking at worlds. It wasn’t attacking anything, and at last report it was sitting there near the exploded remains of the other feral god and was gobbling up the gore. Because of the turkey’s proximity to their bubble, all of the remaining Team Meadow Lark members were forced down the stairs, leaving only Imani and Elle in their bubble.
Li Jun, who’d managed to finish off their last castle, reported that a nearby bubble was filled with a screaming monster covered in tentacles. All of their bubble and teammates had already fled down the stairs, but siblings Li Jun and Li Na remained, keeping an eye on their neighboring bubble for us.
As for regular gods, only three showed up. But as Mordecai said, they all went away on their own after a few hours. None were sponsored. They did plenty of damage to open worlds, but we didn’t know of any casualties. There were no more world quests. None came anywhere near bubble 543.
We were about to initiate phase two, which was the same as phase one. Only this time it was with worlds where the crawlers were uncertain if the other quadrants were empty. Two additional worlds had also managed to make themselves eligible for phase one, so we were doing those first. This second phase was a total of fifteen worlds for about 800 more people.
I looked over at the counter for surviving crawlers. It continued to fall, despite half of the survivors having already descended to the sixth floor.
The Gate of the Feral Gods Page 49