There were a few things that I really needed to do, after I took a moment to calm down and think things over. Sure, I needed to get the loot back to the clan, to say nothing of checking on my homestead (if anything touched my stuff...), there remained a fact that was odd for me to acknowledge. Barghest blood smelled bad even by my standards and I was fine with the smell of compost, rot and mold. Or at least, thats what the family said what my room ended up smelling like without frequent airing and cleaning products.
As it turns out, fiendish blood was on some levels not as bad... on others it literally reeked of soul devouring evil. Which was kinda impressive for a smell, I shall not lie. On the other hand, turning back up to the clan while reeking of demons might give them the wrong idea about what I was up to. Granted, as I ran my fingers through my hair, fingers curling the back and rolling it around my index, they probably should be warned that fiendish horrors were stalking the lands. All in all, that would be a nice little thing to know.
Then again, it would be somewhat rude of me to show up all bloody and beaten at the front door not long after I left. And then of course, there was the biggest consideration of all. While I had not had to try before, everything I knew suggested that trying to clean blood off my trike would be time consuming and annoying. And I forgot to take the Magician's Grabbag excellency, so no prestidigitation based cleaning for me. All in all, as I mulled it over, things were pretty clear.
"I shall loot a bath."
For some reason the fact nobody was around to react to me of all people saying that was sadder than actually saying it out loud.
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The good side, as I rode my trike down the country roads? It was actually fairly quiet, groups of people emerging from their shelters as apparently the dead, while annoying, seemed to radiate out from the cities, with a handful emerging from cemeteries and retirement homes. Nothing like the endless waves of the dead that tried battering down the clan's walls... but then most of the people I was chatting with apparently took the automated route and got NPC classes.
Which meant... huh. Apparently the fact that I made sure the clan could be ready for war made them assume we were? Oops. Ah well, something that the others were likely finding out themselves, and possibly something to exploit. Because the gangs (I was pretty sure Thunder Bay had one or two), existing or newly forming, likely would have more martial focuses and try and 'restore law and order' despite the fact that things were all quiet around these parts. But then again, the countryside was often much more self reliant than city folk and didn't need people telling them what to do.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
It was a thought as I turned off the road and onto the dirt and gravel driveway, thankful as ever for sturdy tires on my trike. So it was that I smelled them before I saw them, as they floated out in the fields. Imagine taking a balloon the color of mud, giving it scales, four sets of stubby claws, an alligator like tail and a iguana's head with eyes made of derp. Combine that with small and desperately flapping wings on their back as they were pushed around in the breeze, going 'blurk' and 'blarp' and 'yourp'.
All while farting and burping, small clouds of greenish brown gas escaping either end. In many ways, they looked absolutely retarded. In other ways? They were a five foot spherical dragon. Well, drakes. Reek Drakes to be precise. It was then that a strong gust of wind slammed one into a nearby tree. The resulting explosion sent it whizzing about like a popped balloon while it screamed in a fashion that could only be described as trying to belch and scream 'whee' at the same time. Then its wings flapped, it shot up... and when gas ran out gravity took over and it raced to the ground, tongue flopping from the side of its mouth as it giggled.
And actually exploded. Right in one of the bed of flowers I had out to attract bees.
As a mature person whose custom joke monster was apparently being used, I opened the door to my house and went inside to do an inventory check. I'd deal with the gas-bag dragons later. Was this how my rare few players felt when I unleashed these on them? Friendly but smelly and prone to gas explosion little rascals whose antics are the results of stupidity, not malice?
Probably. I'm a bit of a jackass.
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Now, the best news was that after checking my house, my bushcraft shelter and my cold cellar, that I still had a few months worth of soup and other assorted supplies. But mostly soup. Look, soup has a high water content meaning while yes, you do need some other sources of fresh water, some varied kinds of soup meant that you could stretch your drinking water a bit longer. Frankly, I thought I was preparing for nukes, Yellowstone erupting or a coronal mass ejection, so....
Yeah. I loaded some of the things up in the little basket, hooked up the cargo wagon and loaded up on soup, flour, a few useful books, some cans of beans and meat, dog food and the cookpot. So, loaded up with my precious cargo, I crossed the bridge... and whimpered as I looked at the hill. Yeah, coming down was easy. Heading back up... well, it was time to get a move on!
Wait, there was something I was forgetting. After a moment or two, I slapped my forehead and turned around to check on my parents farm, as well as feeding the various animals. We might need to move them if we were looking to consolidate things. And no, the boars had not gotten a red cast to their hides, nor did they gain black spikes as they didn't chew on what didn't look like a zombie. The chickens and turkey's were doing well, and the rabbits were undisturbed.
Yet, it was time to return to the family with information, food and treasure!