Chapter 9: Bedknob and Broomstick

Halfway up the winding roads of Poppymill, between the crossroads of two lanes, Bonny and Brill were approached by the local mailman.

“Hey, Brill! Good morning! Can you, uh, lend me a hand?” An older, dark skinned man approached carrying a large leather side satchel. He was tall, with a clean cut beard and half moon dimples.

They came to a stop in front of the big windmills. It creaked gently in the soft breeze.

“Mornin’, Waye. Can’t.” Brill replied. “I’m taking my niece up to my sister’s place.”

“Well, that’s mighty convenient!” Waye grinned brightly and chuckled. “That saves me a trip. I was also on my way up there. I saw some smoke rising and was going to check it out.”

“There was smoke?” Bonny asked. Her voice was quiet. A million fears ran through her head.

Waye gave her a nod and a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I figured it was Ms. Tanner up to her usual antics. The smoke stopped soon after.”

Brill shook his head. “Not her,” he said. Could be goblins. They don't come by here often these days, but occasionally they creep up and set camp in the woods nearby.”

“That’s what I thought. But then this little fella came zipping on by like a shadowy lightning bolt and yowling up a storm.” Waye opened up his satchel, revealing a black cat nestled up on top of letters and parcels. Its eyes were all wide and its hair was all spiked up. “Care to deliver this package for me?”

“Bedknob, huh. Wonder what he's all worked up about,” Brill mused.

“Ohh, Bedknob! You poor thing! You’re okay, buddy. It’s fine.” Bonny gingery reached out a hand slowly. When Bedknob didn’t react negatively, she picked him up and cradled him in her arms. He was trembling.

“One of your sisters?” She asked Brill.

“One of her strays. Just like every cat in this town. Yeah. We’ll take Bedknob back home.”

“Thanks. And Brill?” He eyed the other man intensely. “Stay safe. Run at the first sign of trouble. Even if your sister is the cause of it.”

Brill smiled. “She usually is.”

Waye held out his hand to the young woman. “And welcome to Poppymill, Miss?”

“Bonny,” she answered. She held out a hand. Bedknob continued to stay curled in the nook of her other arm. His trembling had subsided.

“Pleasure to meet you, Bonny. Thanks for letting me put you to work so soon.” He nodded to Brill.

“Good luck and thanks again!”

“We have to hurry,” Bonny pressed. She had to know. Had her future just gone up in flames?

*****

“Okay. So not Earth.” I confirmed.

“Sure. Whatever that is,” Jimbo-no replied.

“And neither of you know carpentry.”

“Only if ya want to build a boat.”

Jellybee raised a hand. "Do broomsticks count? I can make those."

I sighed.

Then winked out of existence.

Dagnabbit. Looks like I hit my time limit on my Soul Stroll.

Jimbo-no and Jellybee stared at where my ghost form had just been, then looked at each other before they shrugged in unison.

I used some more mana and focused my attention to Soul Stroll my avatar back into place. “My apologies. Still learning how to work this darn thing. Please continue, Mr. Jimbo-no. Tell me about these oubliettes I’m supposed to make.”

Jimbo-no "Dungeons. Oubliette Cores are a whole ‘nother beast. But yeah, I have to admittedly say we aren’t gonna be much help for ya, lady. I only know the bare-bones about Dungeon Cores. Just because I was reborn in a dungeon, doesn't make me an expert."

“Indulge me with what you do know. I’ve got all day.”

“Ya really don’t, though. We should be battenin' up the hatches and barricading up the doors right this moment. Setting up traps in the garden bed. Spawning goblins into the cupboards. Placing shiny loot away from your Core. The usual.”

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“No. We’re fixing the house. Make yourself useful and tell me about Dungeons. No more idle hands, minion.” I crossed my arms for emphasis, tapped my foot, and gave him my most stern look.

Jimbo-no ground his teeth. Then stomped a foot. The floorboard beneath him splintered. “Fine. Is there a hammer 'round here?”

“Let me take a gander.” I closed my eyes and focused most of my attention upon surveying the dungeon. My avatar became even more translucent and started to fuzz like blue TV static. “Why yes-sir, tool shed out back.”

Jimbo-no fetched it, returned to the living room, and then pried one of the burnt boards out from floor.

“Here. Eat this board.” He dropped it unceremoniously upon my core in the hearth. “Make sure to eat the nails.” He went to work on another one.

I gave him an odd look. Curious. I obliged.

It was nice to know I could Soul Stroll and Mana Dust at the same time. That would certainly help keep me topped off on my Mana so I could continue to converse with my new minions. I just had to keep half a mind on controlling my avatar and the other half focused on Mana Dusting away whatever was thrown at me. It was quite slower than putting all my attention into one skill at once, but I liked being able to multitask. It felt no different than gossiping while folding laundry. Which quickly paid dividends.

I smiled at the notifications. Compared to Mana Dusting and Gardencraft, Soul Stroll took significantly more practice to level up.

“Okay. Let’s start with the basics. Most dungeons are well, uh, how would you describe them, Jellybee?” Jimbo-no asked.

At some point Jellybee during the conversation had found a large push broom and had been sweeping up ashes. It appeared Jellybee knew how to keep his hands busy without prodding. I admired that in the lad. Even if he seemed to have a few screws loose.

“Dungeons are dungeons,” Jellybee said. He left through the front door, pushing ash in front of him.

“Fair enough. Yeah. Dungeons literally are prisons. But for monsters. For when execution or a normal night in the slammer won't do.”

“I don’t follow,” I said.

“We’re getting there. It’s like this: When some country has a weird guy they’d rather not see in public again, they might throw him into an underground pit. Sometimes that weird guy ends up being a magical nerd that got bullied too much in magic school. But since he picked up some neat party tricks the country doesn’t want to actually kill him. So they just let him rot in a cell. And he, understandably, gets kind of upset about that. So years later he opens up a portal to demonville. And the demons say, ‘Hey, this new crib is pretty swell! Let’s throw some parties!’’ Next thing ya know, the whole neighborhood has gone to hell in a handbasket. Demon gentrification and all that. And not the suburban mom kind, either."

"Still not following. But that sounds…” I wanted to be careful with my words. I wasn’t sure what race these skeletons were, but I didn’t want to accidentally come off as some ignorant racist. I was ignorant enough as it was already. “Demons are bad, right? They’re bad where I come from.”

I finished Mana Dusting up the wood of the floorboard easily enough with my Skill level. Yet the nails put up far more resistance. Something about the metal density made them take longer to work through.

"Oh, fer sure! Demons are the absolute worst. But what can ya do? Demon shit happens, ya know? Most people don't like shit happening, so they try to crash the party. Obviously, they end up dying in vain glory and they leave their magic shit behind. Which just attracts more demons and parties and shit. Ya know?”

"I, uh, no... no I -."

"Great. Now that you’re done eating that, go into your system menus. Ya should have some sort of ability related to creating objects. Make a new floorboard. And nails. Lots of nails. Just watch your Mana meter.” He threw another floorboard onto me. Followed by a brick. And a spoon. “Eat all these too.”

I followed his instructions. My avatar took on a dazed appearance - mouth half open and squinted eyes reflecting off my glasses. Not too different to how I looked whenever I tried browsing Netflix.

He continued without waiting for a response. “So, on the other hand, Dungeon Cores, such as yourself, build their own Dungeons around them. That cuts out a whole lotta middle men. They don't need nerdy wizardly grudges with petty revenge plans spanning decades. They don't need the souls of the damned to get fed up with property taxes or to wait on monsters to emerge from natural ecosystems, like hibernating bears. They just fuck shit up on their own. At least, until someone comes along to take the Core away from the dungeon or break it."

I was struggling to follow the metaphor, but I was starting to get the gist of it. "So why would someone want to..." I paused. "I must have misheard you. My ears aren’t what they used to be. Did you just say bears are monsters?"

"Of course they are, lady. Most animals don’t wander the woods randomly attacking everything they come across. Or hide in ambush for years at a time. Were ya born yesterday?"

I was about to protest, but then I realized I was reborn yesterday. Or today, actually? I had originally woken up where the sun don’t shine. So it was hard to tell time. I decided to keep all that to myself though.

I continued. "Okay, aside from the bears, I think I’m picking up what you’re putting down. Ha. Literally!”

It took a lot of scrolling, but I found it in my menu screen finally. A floorboard. It looked just like what I had Mana Dusted earlier. This time without the extra crispy flavoring. I clicked on it, moved the floating blueprint into place back on the ground, and then confirmed my choice. There was a rush of air. Then the floorboard popped into existence. Like it grew up from the ground.

So why would someone want to take me? My Core, I mean."

"Ain't it obvious? Did ya see what ya just did? But not just that. If ya take away the core, ya still have a dungeon afterwards. That's a lot of power. And cheap labor. Ya ever pay contractors for renovations? Sheesh! You're lucky if they don't make the job site worse before they split with your dough."

"And destroy?" I asked.

I planted another two floorboards. Along with some nails. Jimbo-no hammered them each into place. Jellybee returned to push another ash pile off the front porch.

“Dungeons build up physical defense around them for a reason. Their Cores can imprison souls. That kind of whole lotta power is a whole lotta danger. It's intoxicating and tempting. Believe me, toots, I'd know."

"You would, would you?"

"Yeah, ya ain't the first cougar that's stuck me in their tree." The skeleton winked by flickering his eye socket flame.

I paused for a moment, considering what he said. Then it clicked.

Thankfully, I resisted my initial urge to grow a tree under his ass and launch him into the sky.

Because Jellybee ran back inside, waving his broomstick and shouting. “Mommy’s home! Aaaand she brought friends!”