Author Frank Morin
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Ch 130 - Story Time
🕑 Added 2025-02-12 17:00:04 +0000 UTCJeeves woke me half an hour after dawn. I’d only managed maybe another 3 hours of sleep, but felt refreshed and eager to get out and hunt. Once I could plan on a full 4 hours, I’d use my new health-boosting night mask.
Every indication suggested we should get a couple quiet days. The zombies would not cause trouble while we were providing so much help, and Alpha and his pack should hopefully be hunkering down to mend. Evidence suggested they didn’t operate as well during the day anyway.
As I gulped down some coffee and an assortment of breakfast pastries and eggs, Jeeves produced a clear, gallon-sized tub of bright red liquid. The container looked like some kind of plastic with a screw-top lid.
“What’s this?”
“Lady Ruby requested this on your behalf last night. After she explained the composition, I discovered a suitable recipe.”
Intrigued, I popped the lid and dipped a finger in. “Ketchup? Ha! This is fantastic.”
Honestly, it was even better than Earth ketchup. Jeeves’s version had a hint of extra spice that elevated ketchup to a whole new level. Instantly, I pulled a bucket of fries from my inventory and dipped one in.
“Nirvana,” I sighed.
“Very good, sir. I have stocked one of the pantries with additional quantities.”
“How much?”
“140 gallons. Lady Ruby insisted demand would grow rapidly.”
“Well done, Jeeves! Can you dump 50 gallons into my inventory? I know a bunch of people who are going to go wild over this.”
“Very good, sir. Will that be all?”
“Just one more thing. Can you sell the werewolf fangs and pelts, and that flask of rot elemental elixir from my inventory? Oh, and see if you can get my shirt, that Scaled Wam of the Skies, repaired.”
“I shall see it done, sir.”
Outside, the town was busy as ever, with large teams of both fighters and crafters already assembling for the trek through the forest to the lake to join the throng of workers fixing the zombie ships. The council was really working to leverage the opportunity while everyone was motivated to cooperate.
Inside Sam’s tavern, the boisterous crowd were all discussing the zombies and the plan. Sam came around the counter to speak with me. The portly tavern keeper had gained 4 more levels since we spoke last, pushing him up to level 33. I sold him another 200 bottles of assorted hard liquor for another 5 tier-5 mana crystals.
Then I said, “I’ve got something else you’re going to want to see.”
His eyes lit up. “Some of those famous mushrooms I’ve been hearing about?”
“Actually, yeah, when I meet with the council again today, I’ll be finalizing plans to sell each of them a few. I’ll make you the same deal. Give me your best offer.”
“They’re that good?”
In answer, I did the same stale bread trick with a bit of mushroom. When Sam bit into it, I worried for a moment he might keel over and die. His face turned beet red and he jumped up onto a nearby table, scattering mugs of ale and buckets of fries as he did a jig with a lot more agility than a man that size could ever manage back on Earth. The muted illusion color scheme on the ceiling exploded into bursts of light like the best fireworks ever.
Of course, that drew a lot of attention. Everyone wanted to try whatever it was Sam had just consumed. He brushed them aside, laughing. “How much have you got?”
“It only takes a few flakes to give pretty much anything that effect you just felt, so a few mushrooms will cover a lot of ground.”
Sam considered that. He was so distracted he waved away the crowd of patrons bugging him to explain by shouting, “Enough! Next round’s on the house!”
The handful of bartenders looked terrified as everyone thundered for the bar, calling orders. Sam shouted over them, “Ale! Not the hard stuff, and not the food. One ale, you moochers!” But his voice held a genial tone, so responses were more grins than scowls.
Sam pulled me to the empty far corner of the room and asked, “How much you want?”
“Like I said, what have you got to barter? Unfortunately, I’ve got enough ale and sandwiches for a while.”
“And you don’t need the hard stuff.” Sam rubbed his smooth chin, then his eyes narrowed. “Elizabeth Maberly is going to get her claws into some?”
“Undoubtedly.”
He muttered a curse. “Then I must have some or she’ll steal away all my business, despite her club being full of degenerates.”
While he pondered, I pulled a tub of ketchup out of my inventory, popped the lid, and dipped a waffle fry. Sam’s eyes bugged out again. “Can it be?”
I handed him another fry. He dipped, then laughed, clapping me hard on the back. “You’re a miracle worker! We have potatoes bursting my storerooms, but we can’t give them away fast enough, not without ketchup.”
“I’ve got 50 gallons on me, with more available.”
“You’re single-handedly providing my best inventory,” Sam exclaimed, then his eyes narrowed again. “How about we make that official.”
“What do you mean?”
“I give you a 30% stake in the tavern, split the experience gains with you, and the mana crystals, of course. You keep providing the hard liquor, ketchup, and as many of those mushrooms as you can.”
Wow. I hadn’t considered that, but it might be a great idea. Looking up, I asked, “Will it work?”
Sam frowned in confusion until Cyrus answered, “A unique business proposal! I love how you humans think beyond the limits of this planet. Of course it will work. Once the experience is gained, it can be shared. All you need is a contract like this.”
A scroll appeared in the air between us, etched in gold letters. It contained Sam’s offer, albeit with more flowery legalese.
“That’s great, except that number needs to say 40%.”
The letters shifted on the contract.
“That’s highway robbery!” Sam exclaimed. “You’d steal the food right out of my children’s mouths!”
“You don’t have any kids here.”
He shrugged, grinning. “I’ve always wanted to use that line. Oh, or this one. It breaks my heart just letting you step into my tavern. And now I must cut my own throat and offer you the gift of a 35% stake.”
“Good one. I don’t think you’d convince an actual camel trader, though.”
Sam shrugged. “I’d get them drunk first, then negotiate.”
“That’d work. You’ve got a deal.”
The scroll flashed and Cyrus said, “Done! You’ll each get a copy. Mana crystals and experience will be automatically split.”
“He can be a handy guy to have around sometimes,” Sam whispered.
“I know, right?” Cyrus boomed, his voice sounding right behind Sam, making the big man jump, muttering low curses.
“He grows on you.”
I transferred the ketchup and 20 of the large, glowing Tasty Cake Mushrooms to Sam. He shook my hand vigorously. “I never imagined I’d take on a partner, but I think this joint venture will work out beautifully.”
“Me too. Good luck.”
Sam rushed off, shouting at his workers about not letting anyone con more than one free drink. Then he brought out the ketchup, creating an enormous stir. I left just as he started making a loud but vague promise that by that afternoon, they’d be offering a treat unlike anything anyone had ever tasted before.
The town council castle might be the governing structure, but Sam’s tavern was the true heart of the settlement. Getting a sizable stake in it couldn’t be anything but awesome. I hadn’t ever thought I might find additional streams of experience, but now I had 2. Hopefully they paid big dividends.
Deep in thought, I paused to stare when I rounded the next corner. A new building stood on the next block. Big, 2 stories, made out of finished lumber, it was painted a glowing white. The tall steeple rising from the roof declared its purpose even before I read the sign.
“Faith Renewal Worship Hall.”
Huh. I approached the entryway that sported a pair of big brass double doors covered with elaborate floral carvings. I hadn’t seen any doors that grand anywhere, not even in the castle.
As if on cue, one of the doors opened and a stocky middle-aged gentleman with a hispanic look stepped out. He wore simple brown clothing, covered in a heavy coat of mail, while a huge hammer swung at one hip. I had to grin. Some tropes were too good to pass up.
“Gabriel Ortiz. Baby human level 28. Team Walking Dead. Class: Hidden Oasis Monk. Gabriel started with the unique spell Smite, which deals an additional 400% damage to any monsters or opponents he believes are evil. He made it permanent, which later unlocked a unique monk class build, focusing on auras to boost the faith and empower the abilities of allies while soothing soul-afflicting conditions and offering peace.”
I loved my upgraded Identify.
“Good morning,” Gabriel said, his voice deep and warm and soothing.
“Good morning. Nice church. Looks new.”
His smile revealed even, white teeth and a host of smile wrinkles on his face. He was bald and smooth-shaven and radiated a calming aura. “It is! Just completed it last night. You are the famous Lucas Altan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I shook the outstretched hand. “I’m flattered you know me.”
Gabriel laughed, a rich, hearty sound bubbling up from his chest. “Everyone knows you. Your exploits are becoming legendary, how you fought free of the apocalypse at the last minute, then battled the Alpha and smote him for challenging our righteous mission.”
“I’m just doing the best I can. So are you like offering religious services?”
Gabriel chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. “Nothing so elaborate. I was no priest, just a man of faith. Here I have found my calling to help comfort my fellow men and women lost in this evil purgatory, remind all that the truths we left behind are no less true in this faraway land, and assist with the great crusade of our time.”
“That’s a commendable mission. Good luck with it.”
“Thank you, Lucas. You know, I was just thinking of a parable that you might find appropriate, given our current circumstances.”
“I don’t know Bible parables well.”
“Those are among the best of all times, but this one comes from one of the American indian tribes, I believe. It is the parable of the wolves.”
That piqued my interest. “I’m all ears.”
Gabriel’s sonorous voice was perfect for stories, and he drew me in immediately. “An old tribal leader once told a young man there exists a battle between two wolves inside each of us. One wolf is good, the other evil. The good wolf is filled with joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.”
“The evil wolf is powered by anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, lies, pride, and ego. The young man asked, ‘Which wolf will win?’, and the elder explained, ‘The one you feed’.”
His words resonated through me, and for a moment I wasn’t sure what to say. I’d been a wolf and still had remnants of wolf instincts lingering in my subconscious. Could Gabriel know that?
That werewolf part of me had saved my life more than once, but sometimes it threatened to overwhelm my humanity. Was it good, or evil, or would it too change based on what I fed it?
“That’s quite a story,” I finally managed to say.
“Indeed,” Gabriel said, his kind gaze comforting, even though there was no way he knew the specifics of my situation. “It is a great reminder to feed the right wolf in our hearts, even as we tread the dangerous paths of this world.”
“You’re a good man.” I clapped him on the shoulder and dropped a handful of tier-5 mana crystals into his hand.
Gabriel gaped, then laughed. “Not even my stories are that good.”
“I like what you’re trying to do here. Consider this my contribution to the cause.”
“Thank you,” Gabriel said with real emotion in his eyes. “You’ve bolstered my confidence that we can survive these trials with our integrity intact.”
“Good luck spreading your message. I think we need it.”
“And good luck with your battles against evil.”
As I resumed my path toward the central castle, I thought about Gabriel and his crusade. I hadn’t been very religious, but a lot of my friends had been. Their faith gave them purpose and often grounded them in difficult times. I bet Gabriel would soon find a large flock of people looking for some kind of grounding in this crazy death battle world.
It was nice to see an alternative to Elizabeth’s club and its focus on debauchery to deal with trouble. We were all adults, and folks would choose the path that resonated with them. I liked seeing more choices.
The words of that simple parable stuck with me too, and I considered them all the way to the large open plaza fronting the entrance to the castle. There, I spotted Paul the mayor and council woman Crystal Bennet heading for the main entrance. They were surrounded by a gaggle of men and women, many talking excitedly.
Their day was starting with a bang. I bet they had a million details to manage running the town, plus the monumental task of coordinating hundreds of workers on the lake, their security, and safe passage through the forest.
I increased my pace to intercept them before they reached the doors, but spotted another group of 10 men and women also angling toward them. When I swept my customary Identify over them, my good mood vanished and adrenaline instantly began pounding through me. Every single one of them included an extra bit that I doubted anyone but me with my enhanced Identify could see.
“Turned by Alpha and forced to join the pack.”
They looked normal, just a team of men and women with slightly battered armor. They ranged from level 20 to 28, and no doubt they’d waltzed right through the city gates without drawing any attention.
I’d thought Alpha contained, but that sly bastard had turned more of our people and once more sent them against us. I really needed to hunt him down and finish him off once and for all.
My first instinct was to draw my blades and rush to defend the town leaders. Except, I didn’t want to kill more humans.
Then I got another idea. After sending off a quick text to Ruby, I broke into a run straight at the werewolves.
