Chapter 24 - Billy Makes a Scouty Friend

The outpost hustled and bustled a little more each day as new arrivals… arrived. Adding to the excitement was a port jam packed with a freshly built fleet. Well, ok, the dock was more of a single wharf and the fleet was a fleet of a single fishing vessel. But, thanks to the constant influx of magical wood, it was a magical fishing vessel. The captain of the Schooner or Later wiped a tear from his face as he blessed his new vessel with a bottle of dungeon wine.

“She ain’t pretty, but she’s pretty beautiful.” Indeed, the Hunky Dory was quite the sight. It was a squat little thing with room enough for four passengers. It had a few compartments on each end and a box in the middle to store their loot. The captain grabbed his fishing supplies and boarded along with three of his men, row, row, rowing their way into the bay.

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Billy’s party arrived at the portion of the forest where the last beetle had been defeated. It was, like most of the forest, unremarkable. The only clue to anything amiss had been a pattern Montgomery had noticed while reading over scout reports. She had issued a special request for a party to investigate repeated sightings of the same beetle-like monsters in the area.

Billy, Roland and Rhinus had followed the outpost’s most experienced scout into the forest. The man wore a sturdy black coat, hood pulled up to obscure his face. The hood must have had some sort of enchantment on it, as Billy couldn’t catch a glimpse of the man’s face, despite having tried at every opportune moment during the trek.

“This is the location,” Billy stated with confidence.

“Any signs of activity?” Roland asked.

“No vital signs detected in the immediate area,” replied the scout. His voice was tinny, as if the enchantment on his hood distorted his voice slightly.

“Mana signatures?” Rhinus asked.

“None.”

“Well,” Billy said, “we have to be close. Every beetle encounter has been here. Maybe we set off an explosion and see if something comes runnin’?”

Roland shook his head. “That might just send them into hiding. We could camp here and watch for movement.”

“Booo,” Billy protested. “That sounds like it would take ages. Lightning bolt?”

“Too expensive to waste. You had to work an entire week for that.”

“Yeah, but that’s ok if it saves me a week of waiting out here.” Billy’s voice rose higher and higher in volume. “At this rate, we’ll be stuck camping in the forest all night. You know what comes out at night?”

Roland shook his head.

“Me neither!” Billy was almost shouting, though he didn’t particularly look distressed. Roland rubbed his temples.

“This is another of your things, isn’t it?”

“Things?” The scout looked from Billy to Roland.

“Yes,” Roland said. “Billy is impractically impatient. He’s most likely trying to draw attention by quasi-yelling.”

“Quasi? I’ll show you quasi! I am affronted. Beleaguered! Attacked. I am-- oh, we have company. Yay!” Billy pointed his wand off to the side and sent a fire bolt into the forest.

The scout instantly unsheathed two scimitars and vanished in the direction of the fire bolt.

The other two hesitated a moment, not expecting the scout to be so game.

“You didn’t happen to see him move, did you?” Billy asked.

“No. As a matter of fact, I did not.”

“Cool. Cool. Just checking. Shall we?” Billy nodded his head in the direction of the sound of carnage.

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“Most definitely,” Roland agreed.

By the time the two made it the twenty feet to the scout, the battle was over. Beetle legs, carapaces and guts were strewn about the forest. The hooded scout was nonchalantly cleaning his scimitars, which became somewhat awkward as most of the beetle parts and ichor oozed and bubbled away.

Billy was picking over the scraps of loot when he got a strange feeling. The loot wasn’t anything special: a few copper coins and two square sheets of chitin. Nothing new. Maybe he could get someone to make him some armor if they found enough pieces. It seemed pretty sturdy. Monster parts produced, on average, higher quality weapons and armor than more mundane metals, especially in the absence of master craftsmen. Even an apprentice craftsman could probably enhance a beetle’s chitin to offer more protection than the monster had when it was living. Each craftsman had a Gift or a skill that could modify the chitin in their own way, whether through enchantments, simple reinforcement or other methods.

Billy looked over to ask Roland if he wanted any of the loot, and that’s when he noticed it. The weird feeling he had gotten wasn’t anything supernatural. It was from the lack of sound. Both Roland and the scout were absolutely still, as if frozen in place, their eyes locked on the oozing beetles.

“You guys wanna roll for the loot or something?” Billy asked, puzzled. Maybe the world had frozen since a god wanted to talk to him to bestow upon him powers. Would that make him a paladin? A cleric? A priest? Was there really a difference? Other than, you know, what kind of weapons and armor they used. He was pretty sure that paladins preached while fighting instead of at the pulpit, and clerics preached while healing strangers or something. There was a temple being built in the outpost, so maybe he could preach once a week in front of an altar if it was one of those three gods that was approaching him. He really hoped whichever god it was would give him a blessing that would unlock a separate mana pool. Faith pool? Yeah, that sounded about right. He was pretty sure the religious types had Faith pools with Faith points that could be spent like mana, but were only regenerated in specific ways depending on the nature of the deity. Was there a god of guidance? That would be awesome. He could guide people around and accrue Faith points while maximizing the gains from his Gift.

“Despawn irregularity detected.” The monotonous interjection came from the scout. Ok, so time hadn’t stopped, the others were just playing freeze dance. Damn.

“What… What was that?” Roland asked, clearly confused, scrambling to open his satchel. “There was nothing in the reports about this. I...”

“The scouts are instructed to prioritize collecting and relaying situational and geographical information over looting. It is possible that they did not wait for the monsters to despawn,” the scout said matter-of-factly.

“Very few visual variations of despawn mechanics have ever been reported,” Roland said, taking out a journal and scribbling furiously.

“Ok, hold on. Scout, what’s your actual name? It’s been bugging me. I can’t keep calling you Scout. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Really? Now, of all times? That’s what’s bugging you?” Roland asked incredulously. “This could be a groundbreaking development in magic theory.”

Billy just shrugged. “I can’t just keep calling him Scout or Scouty. It’s rude!” With that, he glanced over at, ahem, the scout.

“My name has been designated Scrap Heap for this portion of my assignment,” Scrap Heap said.

“Nice to meet you, Scrappy!” Billy held out a hand for the man to shake, which the man shook stiffly. “Oh! You’ve got an iron grip there, bud,” Billy commented.

“Orichalcum composites, to be precise,” Scrap Heap corrected.

“Nice! Gotta love a man who composts,” Billy said.

“Composting is, indeed, an infrequent activity that I have partaken in occasionally. In addition, I do, in fact, currently identify as a man,” Scrap Heap replied emotionlessly.

“That settles it, then. Guess we’re friends,” Billy stated.

“Invitation accepted.” Scrap Heap nodded once.

“Perfect! Then we get to stop the apocalypse or whatever together.” Billy smiled victoriously. “With how fast you are, we’ve got this one in the bag.”

When Scrap Heap hesitated, Roland butted in. “Are you referencing what I think you’re talking about?”

“The eventual destruction of the world at the hands of demons? Did you also go on a joy ride in a cart? The wheels needed grease and the suspension was dreadful.”

Roland’s jaw went slack, half in astonishment, half in horror. “I was hoping it was an isolated incident. Maybe an overly imaginative dream brought on by the events on the water.”

“Did you have the same dream, Rhinus? Did anyone ask anyone else?” Billy asked.

Rhinus nodded. He had turned a worrisome shade of gray.

Roland shrugged, unsure what to do with the information. “I didn’t dare ask anyone. I thought it would make me seem… Unhinged.”

“Pfffft. There are worse things. Scrappy, did you get the dream, too?”

Scrap Heap shook his head. “I do not dream, as I do not sleep.”

“That’s pretty cool. Shame you didn’t get a peek, though.”

Billy, Roland and Rhinus compared stories, filling in Scrap Heap with as many details as they could remember. They had all had the same dream. Or was it a vision? They had focused on different parts, however. Billy had gotten lost in the grandeur of it all and had focused mainly on the three figures in the cart. Roland, it turns out, had taken in the devastation around him, but had watched the battle in the sky with unwavering focus. Rhinus was pretty sure the giant that was being torn asunder was Oxfys, a kinda sorta trickster god, wreathed in golden light. He had seen the god’s heart ripped out and smashed between the claws of the demonic shadow beasts.

The scout promptly took out a rock from his cloak and excused himself, hiding behind the nearest tree and muttering to himself.