SAVE POINT 33

EmeraldCity_88

I didn't know about everyone else, but I was having a ball. I'd made an army. You couldn't be a queen without an army, right? Ooh, this was so much fun! I’d never dreamed a lame chat room with a hyper niche on a dumb book would open this many doors for me...literally. Yaheee!

I opened my arms wide, letting the wind ripple through the ends of my green hair and ruffle over every goosebump of joy forming on my arms. I opened and closed my fingers, feeling the air billow—pretending I could grab the willowy tuffs of clouds as they passed by in the pink early-morning sky. Riding aback a Jagwindo was so much better than sticking your hand out the window of a car. Absa-fucking-lutly better. I was born for this, motherfuckers, and I would rule this world or have some freaking fun destroying it. Who knew where the wind would take me?

Literally.

I watched it ruffle through the dark feathers of the Jagwindo I was seated on. Jagwindo—yep, I’d come up with that. The word 'Jaguar' mixed with something that sounded like air properties since they flew...although, I did think they came out rather black-spotted-leopard-looking...no biggie. I was a genius. And, now, I had an army of winged, black cats. I turned my head just for the gratification of seeing them. Their ebony shadows filled the pastel sky like a million dark-winged, paper cranes hanging from a ceiling. And they were all following me—except for that daft one that couldn't take orders—

I took a deep breath.

Remain in the present, Cassandra, I told myself. Be positive. Only positive.

Back to my dark takeover—right.

The Dragon's Sea Town wasn't going to know what hit it. One dragon couldn't hope to take down my army. See...told you I was smart. And look how fucking positive too.

But I was, also, hungry and had to use the little girl's room. And riding Simba's cousin was jostling my bladder worse than a constant waterfall joke.

"Down!" I ordered, my scream high-pitched and shrill. And the Jagwindo's ears swiveled back to hear me as we started an obedient dive. The rest of my horde followed suit, diving out of the Heavens like a mass of black swans that finally left the sky its pleasant orange and pink. What good, little foot soldiers. I really thought this was going to work out perfect.

The creature's claws dug into green grass, mowing deep rivets in it as we thudded to a stop.

And I slid off its back, already filing my nails with a nail file because boredom got ahold of me for three seconds, and I just refused to let that happen ever again. I was like a Great Dane—you know, those huge fucking dogs that chew through couches when their owners leave to get the mail? I was like one of those when bored: destructive as fuck. And, honestly, I wanted to save some of that creative energy for whenever it was we got to this illusive sea town.

I dropped the nail file I’d made into the grass, using my fingers, instead to prod in the pocket of my white tank-top for—

Ouch! That little mother— I should have taped its mouth shut too. My index finger bled from a tiny, puncture wound.

“Oh, behave!” I berated the miniature dragon, speaking down into the pocket that held the tape-bound creature, its taillight flickering with unease as it snarled at me. I’d ordered my Jagwindows to find one, and the rest had been Scotch tape and history. And, now, I had its magic so…

I snaped my fingers, creating—

A blue Porta John rocked into view.

Ew, no. I could make better. I deserved better.

I poofed the Porta Potty into absolute inexistence and concentrated harder. A purple-and-gold, peaked tent appeared instead. Much better. I began to step towards it, but several Jagwindos approached, bowing their dark heads.

Your grace, we wondered if we could have a word.

The first beast spoke in my mind, but I already knew what it was about. I could see the famine in their eyes.

"Oh, you're hungry, are you?" I asked, puckering my lips and leaning into the creature's face, "Your tummy has a rumbling?"

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They all nodded.

Really? They chose now to annoy me with this? I couldn't possibly have to create both the beasts AND, then, food to feed them all...this was bogus.

"Deal with it," I snapped dismissively, "You'll eat when you get me to the dragon—"

"Which might be now." Something silver flashed near my neck, pressing a cold, metal edge against my skin. I tried to tug at the arm securing me in a tight hold, but I was caught like a fish in what appeared to be a burly man's restraint. Was this guy dressed in leaves and burlap? Gross look, Fabio. I squirmed harder. "Your lot has made enough ruckus for half the world to hear," my captor dug the knife deeper, "including the Dark Dragon. She doesn't like being awakened. Give me three reasons I shouldn't kill you."

Dragon? My ears perked up like a dog's. …Oooh, reasons he shouldn't kill me? I could have fun with this.

"Um..." I pursed my lips, "One, I'm awesome. Two, I'm...awesome—oh and, three, it wouldn't be doing you any favors because I typically kill those who want to kill me."

"You don't look like you're in a position to kill anyone," snarled a second man, leading a group of warriors out of the trees. Their camouflage was good; I'd give them that. But that didn't mean I was going to play favorites. The first man twisted the knife closer.

"Oh, just hold your banana socks, would you?" I griped, "Tides change every second. For instance, this tide could change right now if I want it to. But, laying it out here, real with you, I'd really just like to take a wee and eat my granola if you don't mind." I hesitated, trying to read the squinting, black war-paint-streaked face of the man before me. "You kinda look like you mind," I amended quickly, "In that case—"

I whistled.

And, at my command, my entire army of Jagwindos leapt to attack: sleek, black, athletic bodies rushing forward. Claws ripping. Fangs slicing.

Men screamed as electronic popups with negative signs ballooned over their heads in lists of numbers.

The blade at my neck plinked into the grass at my feet as the supposedly iron-strong, rough-and-tumble warrior who'd been holding me captive ran for his life. Ew, big talk, small walk…

I stood, amidst the slaughter—in the middle of it.

And I reached into my pocket and pulled out a granola bar. Finally. Alone at last. I carefully tore the packaging, pulling back the paper with careful, casual concentration like peeling a banana.

[System Reward: You Just Gave ‘Fear The Enemy’ A New Ring +25 Baddie Points, 25]

[System Reward: Way To Decimate A Nomad Army In 3 Seconds +25 XP, 35/100]

I cocked my head at the stats, grinning. Maybe I was gonna like this Game after all…

A man staggered towards me, his entire right arm missing—the socket, bloody and his eyes glazed. He leaned heavily on a huge spear as his life literally flashed in front of his face:

[WOPAGONE, NOMAD 11: -30 HP, 20/108]

"So that tide," I said, chewing loudly, " it really fucking changed, didn't it?" I looked him up and down. Apparently, the man had no answer except for patheticness. He was sweating. The weakness beaded out of him, running like tears down his face. Pain pooled in his eyes.

"Please," he whispered, "Spare us."

I was vaguely aware of one of my leopards throwing a soldier with a shriek into the air, somewhere behind him, before its bloody muzzle came down. God, I loved these pets.

"Nice spear," I plucked it from the man; he nearly fell without the support. "I'm gonna keep it." I spun the weapon expertly, so the point was aimed at his forehead, "And you're gonna tell me where that dragon is before I kill you."

The man whimpered, shaking his head, "Please—"

I narrowed my eyes, "Oh no? Not you?" This was exactly like all those video games I'd mastered: you could use a fancy weapon, or you could go into beast mode and do it with a simple one. Desperate times called for...you know. I hefted the weapon forward with all my strength, running the length of the spear straight through him. I watched his shocked face fall, kneeling then, tumbling face-first into the grass...dead. Red pooled around him.

Gross.

[WOPAGONE, NOMAD 11: -20 HP, 0/108]

[System Reward: WOPAGONE, NOMAD 11 Eliminated +20 XP, 55/100]

Cool, not gross. I got points for this shit, and it only took 50 more points to be at 100/100? Well, I was interested. I stepped away, but not before noticing another man laying—trembling—on the ground near my feet.

Reconsidering—I mean, his death had to be worth like 20 XP too, right?—I stepped back to yank the spear out of the last man's body, lowering the bloody point towards his comrade's shuttering face.

"What about you?" I goaded, "You want to tell me where the dragon is?"

This one was younger—probably just a teenager. He couldn't seem to get air in his lungs fast enough, "The Commandress's fortress is north. Take fifteen large steps north, and you'll find an entrance—"

"Finally, someone with some honesty," I interrupted him, squatting to shove my granola bar wrapper in the pocket of his shirt.

I leaned into his terrified face. "I'm not a fan of littering, you know? That's why I invented the jaguars...leopard things," I corrected myself, "They don't leave any scraps."

I watched as the words seeped under his skin.

I listened to his last-ditch effort to stop me, "No, please!"

But no one could.

Stop me, that was. I'd always known it, deep down. Now, I’d found the proof.

"Sicum!" I called to my little pets.

And five Jagwindos dove for the one man.

[HENDERSON, NOMAD 5: -15 HP, 0/53]

[JAGWINDO #13: System Reward: HENDERSON, NOMAD 5 Eliminated +20 XP, 70/100]

Damn it, no personal points when someone else killed something for you? Lesson learned. Oh well. I turned with a flourish away from all this gruesome blood and gore, staining the green grass. And I peed in my glorious purple-and-gold tent and breathed in deeply of the mountain air when I was back out in the open again. I lifted my chin and walked into the forest with new direction.

15 paces north, they said? Hm. I was game.

...And I liked the taste of power. The thrill of it. And I liked this new course of winds.

I liked it all very much.