Solitaire POV: Day 46

Current Wealth: 2 silver 21 copper

“We’re not actually considering this, are we?” I asked, careful to keep from speaking loud enough for the old man to hear- that would be awkward- but letting the urgency of my question convey itself all the same. Xangô didn’t look nearly as reassuring as I’d hoped. In fact, he looked like he was about to argue.

And he did, the bastard.

“He said they’d pay whatever they could manage.” Xangô pressed. “How much do you think that is, exactly? Gold, surely, and probably more than just a few pieces. This is an entire village’s wealth- an entire village with many members who are recently deceased and thus no longer in possession of their own.”

It was a valid point, really. We wanted money, they had a big pile of it and were willing to part ways with the stuff. I was hard pressed to counter him, but I did my best.

“Fuck you, you’re trying to kill me.”

As far as retorts went, it wasn’t my finest, but in my defence I was under the effects of my amygdala attempting to tunnel its way out through my cerebrum. Measured against other paranoids, I like to think I’d have gotten fairly high marks.

“The reason nobody else is coming to collect this pile of money is because everyone dumb enough to try is already part of a pile of corpses, and I'd very much not like to join that company.” That was better, and it almost moved Xangô for a moment, but his face was resolute as ever after a second’s thought.

“We have an advantage over them.” He noted. “We can…You know.”

Level up, grow faster, increase in power so rapidly that none of the people in this world would even believe it. Yes, I did know, and that wasn’t something I wanted to bank on as an escape rope. It hadn’t saved us before, and it wouldn’t save us now. If we were killed at level 7, it didn’t matter how quickly we could reach 50. Dead was dead.

I told Xangô as much, and saw my words bounce off him like rain against a roof.

“If we manage to last a single night, like the people still there have done dozens of times over, how many undead do you think we’ll manage to kill? How much experience will that net us?”

That was the first thing he’d said that actually gave me pause, and I considered it.

Don’t misunderstand me, I’m a coward through and through. Thing is I’m quite a conscientious coward, and my sense of self preservation tends to pick up problems when they’re still far away on the horizon. We’d not encountered anything over level 20 so far, and few enough things that we couldn’t kill by simply jumping it as a group. But that didn’t mean things would remain that way forever. If we got unlucky enough, we could run into a dragon, a demon, some other creature strong enough to kill us and the entire city we were standing around in to argue. Hell, we’d already run into the giga-troll, and it’d been pure chance that saved us then.

There’d be no defending against a scenario like that. One couldn’t account for a natural disaster, after all. Some things were just bad luck.

But odds could be improved. The faster we strengthened ourselves, the lower the chances of us encountering something we couldn’t handle. How would our alley fight have gone if we were as strong as we were now? Better, no doubt. And how might our fight with the giant troll have gone, if we’d had a few hundred dead zombies under our belt?

I genuinely couldn’t say. And that fact alone had me considering Xangô’s insane suggestion.

“There’s the people to consider.” Beam said quietly, drawing my attention despite the low volume of his speech. I could see he looked pained. Torn, the way people were when one side of their brain argued with the other. I’d have to figure out what had him so hesitant later, because I didn’t think my friend was the sort to have a second thought about saving people, period. Or a first thought, for that matter.

“I’m considering the people.” I said, regardless. “And I’m considering all the other people we could help if we avoid getting mauled to death by zombies.”

“And how high are our chances of biting off more than we can chew tomorrow? Or next week? Or in a month?” Xangô pressed. “It’s going to happen eventually, there’s no doubt about that. The only question is whether we’ll be lucky enough to keep surviving when it does, and I don’t think we will.”

Stolen story; please report.

Part of me wanted to tell him that the giga-troll had been an isolated incident, but I knew I’d not have a leg to stand on. We’d not predicted or even suspected it would be there, and we’d blundered right into its lap. He had a point, damn him.

So I weighed the odds, considered the chances, and then, finally, decided based on my own preferences. If we didn’t take this job, I’d be left to spend every day worrying that it’d be my last, and checking behind every tree for some fucking dragon. If we did take it, and lived, would I be strong enough to feel secure?

I didn’t know. But suddenly I wanted to, the thought of actually having something to abate my paranoid worries was more enticing than a city full of coin. I sighed, swore, and nodded.

“Fine.”

We returned to the man presenting a far more united front than our conversation would have betrayed, all stony faces and grim readiness. Honestly, we did quite a good impression of dark, brooding heroes. It was probably still spoiled by the first question out of Xangô’s mouth, though.

“How much can you pay, exactly?” He demanded. The old man didn’t seem surprised by the certified Yoruba moment occurring right before his eyes, and actually got enthusiastic as he answered.

Presumably, the monetary cost was of no concern next to hitting his jackpot and actually discovering a group of morons willing to charge in and help his village.

“We can pay at least ten gold, plus whatever the dead residents have that isn’t divided in their wills.”

Ten gold was no small amount of money. Particularly now that we had the cost of magic tuition to front, I could see Xangô practically drooling, and being frank I was probably not much more restrained.

“Take us to your home, then.” Xangô declared. “We’ll help you out the moment we’ve collected our companion.”

Once the details were hammered out, we watched the old man scarper for the city gate, where he’d await our heroic appearance. I swallowed my nerves, swallowed my bitching, and joined Xangô and Beam in moving to Argar’s tavern. The walk didn’t feel very long. Things rarely did when you had possible death awaiting you after them.

Argar was drinking in his corner, laughing with a few friends, and I could practically see the smile drop off his face as we approached. I almost felt bad, for a second, ruining the man’s fun so instantly with our very presence. Then I remembered he’d snapped a table in half against my ribs, and started wishing we could ruin it even harder.

“We’re setting off for Rinchester.” Xangô told him, abruptly. “Heard of it?”

The giant paled, and nodded. I suppressed a grin.

“Well off we go then.” My friend continued. “No point in dilly-dallying.”

The giant, to his credit, did actually accompany us. But he lost about fifty courage points for bitching the entire way. Talking about hordes of undead capable of filling an ocean, piles of them rising up to the clouds, strong, greater creatures like skeletal reavers or liches capable of exploding buildings and stopping rivers. Honestly, it was infuriating. There’s only so many little nitpicks I can take.

Fortunately, I was given a distraction soon enough. Xangô leaned in beside me, whispering as we walked.

“Any chance you can make more gunpowder?”

I resisted the urge to convulse and tell him I’d made specifically black powder, instead channelling the energy to something more productive.

“No.” I replied, honestly. “Even if we had enough shit, it’d take me nearly a full day, and we don’t have enough money to buy the sulphur and charcoal for more than…Maybe a kilogram.”

“A kilogram is a lot, right?” He pressed. I hesitated, then shook my head.

“Not for the time investment, and not against undead. If they had functioning organs to get liquefied by the overpressure then maybe it’d be worth it, but as things stand we’ll be facing enemies that would only really struggle against explosions that broke bone and tore muscle. That’s not deadly enough for my taste. Even adding shrapnel wouldn’t have as high a kill ratio as against normal humans.''

He sighed.

“Why couldn’t I have gotten a useful terrorist?” Xangô grumbled, and I ignored him.

Truth be told, I’d been thinking something fairly similar since coming here. Had I known we’d get Shanghaied to our own book, I’d have prepared a bit better. Like with a nice combat knife instead of that shitty pocket blade, a small mountain of engineering, chemistry and physics references…And a shotgun. A really big one, one of those automatic types. I grinned imagining the giga-troll getting its guts opened up by a spray of supersonic lead.

My idle fancying was cut off, however, when Beam spoke on the other side of me. His voice wasn’t as low or cautious as Xangô, just…Soft. All certainty, steel and promise.

“I’m not going to let you get hurt again.” He told me, and something about the way he said it sent a chill running down my spine. I eyed him, studied his unflinching certainty, and tried to deflect.

“Thanks, but it’s not a problem-”

Beam, uncharacteristically, cut me off.

“We’re going here because I want to save people.” He interrupted. “And I’m not going to let you or Xangô get hurt. Definitely not on my account, understand?”

He really hadn’t left much room for anything but, so I nodded, and he nodded back. I swallowed, making a note to pursue the matter further when I’d had time to consider what the fuck might be going on with him.

And then we saw the old man up ahead, waiting for us, just like we’d said, by the city gate. The exit to our next fight or perhaps our imminent demise.