Ryan Rimmel
patreon
Dialysis Book: Chapter 8: Doing the job right
🕑 Added 2023-11-06 23:28:47 +0000 UTCSpivy, for all of her many, many faults, was the adventuring coach I should have always listened to. She quickly and competently assessed the situation and started putting everything to right.
“First off, let’s heal that paw,” she said and used a nearby rain barrel to wash the wound. After the healing bark, the wound looked less terrible but would still have required a trip to the emergency vet back on Earth. Spirvy mumbled a few words and a green blast of energy radiated off of her.
My wounds vanished, leaving my hiking clothes full of minor cuts and gashes. Shade’s wounded paw receded until only a small scar remained. He put his foot down and flexed it, before licking Spivy.
Somehow she remained in place, but was covered in slobber.
“Bad dog,” she mumbled, wiping her face off.
Shade grinned at her.
“Surprised you aren’t offended by that,” I said, looking at my dog.
“She does not mean it that way,” replied Shade as he sat down and wagged his tail. Having that much pain suddenly end was enough to brighten anyone’s day.
Speaking of that, “I was covered in bites.”
“That’s a statement,” replied Spivy.
“That should have really hurt, but it was more of a dull ache instead,” I continued.
“That’s still a statement,” said Spivy.
“You should ask a question, Chum,” said Shade.
I exhaled, “Why wasn’t I in more pain due to all of my injuries?”
“Essence,” said Spivy.
Shade looked at her, “Bad fairy.”
She snorted, “Your essence doesn’t just power your cores. You can use it to boost your physical attributes as well, and your mental ones if you have need. You boosted your constitution which allowed you to both take more damage and feel the effects of damage less.”
“That sounds handy,” I said.
“It is to a point,” replied Spivy. “Humans, in particular, are really inefficient at using essence to empower themselves. Your body is basically a really low efficiency core in that respect. Some humans might have an attribute that they are moderately efficient at using, but those are pretty rare.”
“So to tank damage, you need an actual core with the right skills,” I said.
“Exacatacaly,” said Spivy in a show of nonsense. She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Or be an elf. Those bastards are so efficient at powering their own bodies that heroic cores barely do anything for them.”
“Are they the dominant race?” I asked.
“No, the strongest elves are about the power level of a heroic core, and there are cores that are quite a bit more powerful than those,” said Spivy. “Elves can only have a maximum of two cores, you can have three. That counts for a lot.”
“How many tiers of cores are there?” I asked.
“Cores start out as Mortal, those show up everywhere and are pretty common, beyond that you’ll find Heroic, then Legendary, Mythical and Divine, in order of power.”
“What’s the difference,” I asked.
“Your mortal spear core makes you the best possible spear user a human could be, though that doesn’t impart all of the battle experience someone would get from actually training to that level,” said Spivy. “A heroic spear core is an order of magnitude greater, capable of doing tasks that only a hero with a spear could manage, in practical terms you are peak human while a heroic spear core user would be superhuman.”
“So what happens if two guys with heroic cores fight,” I asked.
“Depends on which one of them has the better equipment and strategy,” said Spivy. Speaking of which…let's get you guys some actual equipment.”
I nodded, I had a feeling I’d be asking about cores again later but for now I was content with the explanation I’d gotten. “So where first?”
“They don’t sell adventurer level armor here, but leather clothing for dealing with minor monsters is something you can always find in any rural town.”
We went back to the market square and looked around. There were about a dozen shops here and at least twice that many stands. The stands were selling a variety of small products that were produced elsewhere and delivered here.
I walked by a stand selling nails that were made elsewhere in town and sold there. Next to it was a stand selling imported fabric ‘just off the airship’. I wasn’t looking for either of those, however and Spivy started sniffing.
“What are you smelling for,” I asked.
“Someone has marked territory near here,” said Shade. I inhaled and caught a whiff of what they were smelling.
“A leatherworker,” I asked, spotting the shop. Above the door was a sign featuring a large cow-like animal, with its skin floating above it. I walked over and there was a large sign with hastily written prices in chalk next to well drawn items like saddles and hinges.
“You figure metal hinges would win out,” I said.
“Nope,” replied Spivy, examining the prices and shrugging. “Not every door is perfectly crafted in the country. Leather hinges have more flex to them so you can get the door shut properly.”
I realized that every single door in this town would have to be made by hand. In fact, everything in this town was most likely made by hand. There was not a machine that kicked out perfect doors anywhere to be found. Glancing at the shop wall, even the boards that made up the building lacked that perfect, machined look that you got in modern construction.
Stepping inside, a green skinned woman with silver hair looked at me. She had an oval face, with two pronounced tusks. It took me a moment to gauge her age, I initially assumed she was older due to the hair color, but her skin was far too youthful.
“Can I help you,” she asked.
“Hi, I’m Max. I need some adventuring clothes,” I said.
She snorted, “Anell, I run this shop. I don’t make many suits of adventuring gear, are you going varmint hunting?”
“Yup, got me a quest to kill some rats,” I said.
“Another one?” stated Anell. “You think your guild would run out of fools quick enough.” She walked over to a shelf and pulled out a thick leather shirt and pants.
“Thanks,” I said.
“I’d have gotten you some boots too, but yours look decent enough, might want to patch that hole,” stated the leatherworker.
“Could you do that,” I asked.
“Cobbler would be cheaper, but I guess I could patch it a bit better,” said Anell as I handed over a whole gold piece and only got 25 silver in return. She had me take off the boot and walked back over to the rear of the shop. I looked at the clothes and held up my arm.
“This shirt is not going to fit me,” I said.
“It's leather,” said Spivy.
“Oh,” I replied, holding up the garment again, “This leather shirt is not going to fit me.”
“See, it is annoying when you don't give a full answer,” said Shade. He was looking around the shop borderline wild eyed at all the delicious, tasty leather. Anell heard him whining and tossed out a large leather scrap.
“If he damages anything, I’ll take it out of his hide,” she yelled. “Literally.”
“Put on the shirt,” said Spivy. I shrugged and peeled off my hiking garb. It was getting pretty rank to be honest, and that was before my trip to the sewer. I banished it to my inventory before putting on the oversized leather shirt.
“See, this is way too big,” I said as Shade started gnawing on the leather scraps contentedly.
“Push your essence into the shirt,” said Spivy, glaring at me sternly. Who could stay no to that?
I concentrated, trying to do what she asked. Pushing essence through your cores was far easier than this, but I’d tried to push essence into my spear without the core before so I at least had some basis for trying. As I concentrated I felt something constrict around my arm. I glanced and saw that one of the sleeves of the shirt was now my exact right size. The other one, and the body of the shirt was not.
Anell walked out with my boot and snorted, “Oh, I’d see if anyone will give you credit.”
“Why,” I asked.
“You are going to die fighting rats, might as well get what you can out of it,” she snorted.
I took my boot and left the shop.
As I sat down to put my boot back on, Spivy appeared again.
“You know you can just use your inventory to put the boot straight on, right,” she said.
Grumbling, I banished the boot to my inventory and then resummoned it. It appeared on my foot correctly, and the hole was even patched with a kind of leather that appeared as close as possible to the boot’s original material.
“Keep focusing,” said Spivy as we walked down the road towards her next shopping destination. A blacksmith.
“I’d like to buy a dagger please,” I said as we walked in. The large man stopped swinging his hammer to examine me.
“I don’t recognize you,” replied the smith, a massively overbuilt man. He was tall, his shoulders were bigger than my head, and his thick red bear contrasted with his bald head on which he wore a do rag. From the burn marks, I suspected it was more to protect his skull than a fashion choice.
“I’m Max, glad to meet you,” I said.
“I’m Hank,” replied Hank. “Daggers are over there.”
I walked over and spotted the aforementioned daggers. There were a lot of them. There were knives for cleaning fish, gutting animals, cleaning cornup stalks, and many more that I didn’t understand but looked purpose built.
Spivy pointed at an unfinished one, “Just buy that, don’t ask stupid questions,”
I lived to ask stupid questions, to me that was a challenge. I looked at the dagger, the blade was very finished. The tang, the part that went into the hilt, not so much.
“Why didn’t you finish this dagger,” I asked, causing the big man to stop again.
He eyed me for a long moment, “Sorry, did I put that out for sale. My apologies.”
“No, I want to buy it,” I said.
“You want to buy an unfinished dagger, why is that?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure, I needed to replace my spear but those weren’t sold because they were weapons. Then I looked at the dagger, and realized I asked a very stupid question.
“Nope, this looks just perfect for me, please forget I asked anything,” I said handing him ten silvers.
“What did we learn,” asked Spivy.
“That a spear head is just a dagger with the tang lengthened so it can fit into a pole securely,” I said. “And places that can’t sell weapons, are still allowed to sell daggers.”
“Chum, even I knew that and I’m a dog,” said Shade.
“How,” I asked.
“I listen, several people have asked for unfinished daggers,” said Shade.
Buying the spear shaft was even easier. The local pole turner, who’s skill I didn’t even want to think about, had poles of all various shapes and sizes that were certainly useful for construction or maybe as walking sticks.
The one that had a pre-cut slot that was the exact same size as the tang of the dagger I purchased was a bit obvious. Spivy examined it and nodded so I purchased it without any fuss.
“A socketed spear would be better,” she said as I snuck back into the same alley as the manhole to the rats. “But the socket is illegal, so they aren’t allowed to make them.”
“Why is a socket better,” I asked.
“If you thrust it in, a socketed spear head is much less likely to pop out,” said Spivy as she took my parts and began to attach them together. The tang fit into the slot and there was a place to tie the spearhead to the shaft effectively. I could see what she was talking about though, there was certainly a point where the head could become detached.
I doubted that would happen right away though. I’d have to get a better spear later, right now this was far better than my improvised spear from before.
We sat there while I attempted to size my equipment. I was at least an hour into the process, which was causing Spivy to pull her hair out.
“How is this so hard for you,” she groaned.
“How does this work at all,” I riposted.
“Your boots, did you get them made for your specific feet,” said Spivy.
“Of course,” I replied. “They have to be.”
Spivy stared at me for a long moment, “Seriously? Okay, I’m going about this all wrong. All equipment, any equipment, can be modified to match your size if you use essence on it. That doesn’t change the mass of the item, but it does change the size. You just need to evenly balance out your essence into the garment and it will adjust to fit.”
“What about the parts I’ve already done,” I said. “Couldn’t they shrink, this is leather it could hurt me.”
Spivy groaned, “Your essence is from your own body, your body will not hurt itself without you being a lot better at essence manipulation than you are.”
I concentrated and the leather shirt started to shrink to fit, the pre shrunk parts staying comfortably tight to my body. Spivy glared at me. “I was trying to stop the already tight parts from shrinking further while making the rest fit.”
“Stupidity like that is why I quit,” said the former system guide as she plopped down on my shoulder, and promptly fell down my torso. She landed in a tangle of legs and wings. “Couldn’t have gotten a shirt with a pocket?”
“You picked out the shirt,” I said and Spivy facepalmed.
“Okay, this is my fault. Get a cloak,” said the fairy.
I returned with a cloak, which was also ridiculously too large, and started to work at shrinking it to fit. “I don’t see what this cloak will do.”
Aside from looking awesome!
I looked so baller in my leather armor and cloak. My armor was just light enough to pass for clothing, but was absolutely designed as armor. The material was durable and lightweight. Surprisingly it breathed reasonably well and I didn’t feel like I was overheating.
When I threw on the cloak, I looked like Strider, at least in my mind. This was, by far, the best renaissance faire outfit I’d ever bought. It was the first, but still, I knew quality.
Spivy flew up and landed in the hood of my cloak. She promptly snuggled into the fabric. “This is much better.”
She was right.
I was wishing I had a mirror when Shade abruptly returned.
“I found one,” he said. I didn’t even realize he had gone anywhere.
“Good,” said Spivy. “Let’s go.”
“What did you find,” I asked as we quickly went down a side street into an alley and then out to another street. The town wasn’t that big, but there were quite a few alleys and Shade was sending us through all of them. Eventually we pulled out onto another street and I was left looking up and down the long, curved thoroughfare.
“Well, you have all the equipment you need, but you still lack a class,” said Spivy critically. “Would you like to correct that problem before you go back into the monster’s den?”
Comments
David Barnes
Great story!
