“We’re gonna set your toes right, young Buck!” cheered Gutt.

Siggy was incredulous. “You guys happen grabbed some wondore potion for dis?”

“You’d be surprised,” Gutt proposed, heading over to Dudley’s bedside. “How many discoveries have been fashioned around Herbal healing.”

“Hey,” Pheo cocked one shoulder. “Weren’t you wearing glasses before, Mister?”

“Indeed gal, but they met an untimely accident,” Gutt delivered. “I can’t fix that today - which makes strengthening this here soldier all the more critical: now this don't involve diet or digestion, we’re just gonna do a very quick and neat operation.”

“Good fellas,” Buck’s forehead smoothed in relaxation. “Cause I don’t wanna be guzzlin' no sour meals.”

Pheo inched closer to the bed frame. “How are you gonna do surgery if you can’t see straight?”

“That’s why Pyram is gonna perforMost of it.” Gutt motioned me to come across the room. “Part of the time we spent together I took as an opportunity to enhance his skillset.”

That belonged to the understatement-of-the-Year Award. Reluctantly, my formerly busted legs scooted across the lime green tile. “Learn something new every day,” I muttered, taking the staff which the Castle Keeper eagerly passed to me.

Then Gutt wasted no time in dragging out the little dagger he’d incorporated on me earlier. I stood there waiting, tensely, until I’d have to do my inject-shaving part. As he drew back the lower section of bed-sheets, footsteps sounded near the doorway.

Arriving behind, were both dark-haired bodies of DalLouse and the hulking Rovone. “Who forgot to invite us to the fun?” priced Trust-fund boy, as they tried to absorb all the action unfolding.

Sig answered them, as the least engrossed over what was about to unfold on the patient. He stated that they hadn’t missed much, and the group hadn’t even been granted a halfway peek at the weapons yet.

Gutterson (ignoring the added company) began informing Dudley how it was necessary to detach the scabbing in order to hasten the recovery. Dud’s eyes became wide, and he checked for my approval on the matter. I patted the Staff and assured, “I know firsthand just how good this wood is. It’s no shabby treatment.”

Buck smirked, and I knew he was probably mulling a joke. He hesitated, but lobbed the shot. “Well call me Woody an' peck away!”

I needed to select better phrasing around the dude.

Malibu softly advised, “I do suggest that someone squeeze his hand while I apply the cutting.” Pheo and Trent gathered on either side, and took the patient’s two bony hands.

Remotely I hearDallASSess, “Looks like they’re wasting time to me, trying to make the lame duck more comfortable.”

I slipped out my own pocket knife and unfolded the nail-filer, readying to make transition from pain to pleasure as seamless as possible. (Secretly ponDragging sharp things through caPhony).

There were 4 damaged toes on Buck’s foot. The 3 center were all roughly half-gnawed away; the big toe retained its nail intact with only a small chunk of the underside pad missing.

As Gutt went across each toe and scraped away hardening crust, I averted my eyes from the gruesome sight, and observed Buck’s reaction.

Although he was grimacing slightly, his pupils were plumbing hard around Pheo’s boobs. She'd removed the crocheted sweater during our absence, down to a black Tank Top. He was taking advantage of her intrigue over the procedure beginning on the battered landscape of his feet. I didn’t find the same level of interest with her at the moment, since dark fabric does the opposite of accentuate shape. But he was not a phone’s length from her chest and had nothing more pressing to focus on.

As the veteran dealt with peeling the final scab, I scuttled up a file full of shaving from the bark, in a line long enough to span the width of almost half Buck's foot. “All set,” GuttResounded, and started to hand me the knife, but saw I had my own tooLoaded. “Oh quick on the draw. Just work that Magic then, Pyram.”

Thankfully, I still had my latex gloves on, so I didn’t have to directly touch those grimy toes. I flopped the powder into my palm and reverently draped it around the bleeding stumps, sprinkling the dust as I passed left and right.

“Can we dig into the loot already?” Teeth said impatiently.

“IFF,” Malibu permitted, “you can agree not to point anything at each other.” Rovo & Siggy followed with chipper verbal tones of approval.

I couldn’t say the same for Duds. “True crime!” Buck snapped against my touch, and his foot twitched. The four of us grabbed the nearest part of him, and spoke soothingly at him. In a matter of seconds his eyes blossomed with cognition. “Wait. Woah… that’s good STUFF.” We all gazed on as the woodchips dissolved and remedied the issues. They sewed up and slightly reformed cone-shape. Too much actually. To the point it looked halfway to a hoof... Pheo & Trent burst into a flurry of inquiries about how that kind of speed was possible - as I peeled off my soppy glove, which was begging to be liquidated.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Malibu ever-so-barely shaking his head at me in a somber manner. He didn’t want me to unleash all that knowledge on unprepared minds.

“We don’t really know,” I was forced to fib, chucking elastic fingers into a wastebasket. “We didn’t fashion the Staff.”

“But that’s not the only reason we selected it,” Gutts divulged. “What else does it do?

“A Poleaxe can pop out from the head,” I replied.

“Full stripes; my machete's been put to shame!” Pheo responded and moved in my direction. “Let me handle it's grip.”

“Whoops,” Gutt cut in. “I didn’t show him how to activate that part.” He gathered beside us and pointed out 4 spiraling opals trailing the middle of the Scar-Spouter. You had to press them all in unison - upon which a trifecta of white fangs slid out around the Knobbed Top. The pearly geometry was exquisite not only the way they attached like a fidget spinner or Helicopter Top, but also in texture. They had been forged with slight curves and wrinkles, fitted like nun~chucks, tethered by short chains allowing for flexible rotations in accordance with the Handler’s arching maneuvers.

Phoenix reached out to stroke alongside one of the skeletal flails. Gutt’s hand flashed around the pole urgently & tilted it out of range. “Don’t ever touch any part of the metal,” he warned. “What seems smooth and flimsy is actually warped and jagged.”

“Dirty,” she approved, hand stopped, but aching. Her eyes glittered like unearthed Oil.

By this point, her brother, (along with Siggy and Ass-phault Face) had dove into the Weapon Bag, reeling out delectables and feverishly inspecting them. Sig clutched both hands around one of the AK assault rifles, combing over the features. “Looks like you guys went Deep-sea fishing,” he uttered in astonishment.

“Couldn’t have put it better myself,” echoed Rovone below a fedora, & rotating the Peacemaking Ice chef between his massive fingers. The Wacky enormity of the barrel wiggled directly back at himself, and at us behind in a spread.

“Rove, be careful with that,” I urged. “You could turn this room into an Igloo.”

“Without any AMMO?” he reasoned.

Gutt swooped in protectively: “It’s a Frostbiter device, from the rough Seas of Uncharted territory, like the other kid said. I’ll teach you what buttons NOT to touch unless you’re itching to rack up charges for Manslaughter.”

“Wild,” Trent uttered. “Y’all brought a Blizzard to the Bayou? Let’s see the Weather crew predict that!”

Buck catapulted off the cushioned gourney, vivacious as ever, crying out how he was bursting to select a contraption for himself.

The Tyrant became alarmed by these comments, & grew suddenly uninterested with the Triple-chambers of camo MossTar he’d just previously been amidst mock-Pumping. He tossed it down off the side of the bag and it went rolling across the floor, tumbling between the crook of the wall. Capone tore back into the Sack before Buck could manage to crowd him for pilfering.

I started to follow the Gravitation, but Sig was walking away from the Hubbub staring directly at me in his dark wetsuit & newfound Fungusroad Sombrero, that I was barely able to lean into a half-step before awkwardly -- crumpled it short. A rifle hung by a sturdy strap around his collar. An instant surge of panic rippled through me as the sighTriggered memories around neck ornaments... He merely grinned in greeting (so as not to disturb what Gutterson was relaying to Rovo) & whispered, “I see why it took so long now. This piece I’m wearing is only debTip of an Iceberg - rest of it be like some freaky Fairytale reeport. I’m uneasy to pick anything that may vaporize more hardcore tan shrapnole.”

Registering only half of his words among my preoccupied thoughts, I pounced to encourage the subject: “Yeah, fetching fancy gear takes longer than usual. Lot of keycodes, then getting properly introduced to the gizmos, then debating which ones and how much to take.” I resisted an urge to scratch my side.

“How long you been groaning for THAT Ceremonial playdate?” he answered, dropping sarcasm as much as Dudley and dal Capone were flipping objects about the premises.

With all the excitement, it seemed he was too charged up to care that the necklace was absent from where it should have been roosted around me. I pushed a smile away from the dark topic, and replied: “Long enough that I savored balancing every Crosshair, gauging ammunitions, and, haha, flicking deadly switches.” Too many damn complications. I shifted my eyes quickly at the edge of his ear, unconfident to swim much distance within Rivera's reflection.

The corners of Siggy’s face flattened. “Something wrong mi amigo?”

Had my cheer faded somewhere mid-sentence? Rats. “Nah,” I brushed off, pretending to gaze yearningly at the stock our group was unpiling. “I just can’t wait to revisit the items I grew most fond of...” My gaze slipped along the Dino Box, jutting half-visible from the wilted mouth of the Bag, flooding an apt excuse to stir some hype. “Bro, I forgot one thing that’s really gonna blow your socks off.”

Sigmund humped a brow. “Beinggg?”

“We didn’t just get weapons. We grabbeDelicacies: powder preserves. Let me show ya.” I marched him back toward the spoils. But we had to avoid Trent on the way.

The short kid was dancing around the room as if with an intoxicated damsel. But it was actually a flammable Iron Maiden in his grasp. “Is it hot in here or just me?!?” he mused.

Dallas cackled at that, with a blocky navy TAR model in his grip, similar in shape to a staple-gun. “TAR must imply something about hot messes.”

“Boys, the honest sweat is to be met with empty chambers,” Pheo declared, waggling an UZI at Malibu expectantly. “My brother needs no more assistance; Load me up.”

As Gutt started to reply, the Try-Rant Hard sprang over beside Pheo to inquire which bundle suited the TAR splatterer.

The Gutter spluttered, informing him to take it slow, that weapon distribution was not a matter of desire, but rather a process of wisdom & equality. And indeed that the TAR was a bio-chemical Sprayer, that would warp Mentality more than mere objects. “Perhaps I brought you a few too many fancy treats,” he concluded.

I knew since they were discussing ammo that I only had a small window to grab the egg ‘Carton’ and get out of the way. We slipped around the commotion & to the Bag, where I scraped back elastic draping over one corner of the box. From my crouch I peered up at the onlooking Siggy and enthusiastically bopped the top of it twice. Then I rose with crate in my arms and scuttled over into a corner holding the medical Cot. Once there, I was in position to reveal the contents (and not only that but cushion my weary seat!)

After flipping the lid, I remained quiet for a moment to egg on my pal’s bewildered expression. “You can’ be seriouse: Eggs wid foreign markeens on 'em?”

I snorted. “Purely more,” I quoted straight out of SumBring Pulsay’s chapTier. “Nutritious reptiles...”