Bo Houston was having a crappy week, even before a demonically possessed brisket tried to kill him.
He’d buried his father on Monday.
On Tuesday, his sister informed him she would not help Bo fulfill their father’s dying wish of the family winning the Red River Memorial Day Brisket Cookoff and Chili Festival. Instead, she headed off to California to sell CBD to high-strung housewives.
Wednesday brought some very nasty men to Bo’s doorstep. They’d explained Bo’s choices in painful detail. Option A was to pay off the five-thousand-dollar-loan they’d extended to him for his barbecue food truck by Monday. Option B was to have his molars removed with rusty vise grips.
Bo wisely chose Option A, which meant he had to win the Cookoff for himself as much as for his father.
Thursday vanished in a mad flurry of hunting down meat for the competition and getting it all prepped. By the time Bo dragged his exhausted ass to bed around two in the morning, he’d trimmed and seasoned a Thorn Ranch American Wagyu brisket, two dozen chicken thighs, nearly a hundred chicken wings, and ten racks of ribs.
At six on Friday morning, Bo loaded his food truck’s refrigerator with all that meat, connected the trailer that held his old man’s homemade smoker, and left Llano for the five-hour drive across Texas to the Red River Casino on the Oklahoma border.
By eight that night, Bo had finally reached his location, unloaded the smoker, and gotten the fires burning in its belly. The brisket had cost him a damned arm and a leg that he could ill afford to lose, so the young pitmaster decided to babysit the smoker all night long. Better to lose some sleep than the competition. Finally, Bo loaded the carefully prepared Wagyu onto the smoker’s grate, closed the lid, and settled into the battered, folding lawn chair his father had used for the same purpose countless times. It was an unseasonably hot night, even for Texas, so Bo had dressed for comfort, not style. Sure, the sleeveless AC/DC concert T-shirt, basketball shorts, and the cowboy boots he’d inherited from his old man wouldn’t win him any fashion awards, but at least he wasn’t drenched in sweat.
The Houston family had won the Red River Memorial Day Brisket Cookoff and Chili Festival’s barbecue grandmaster title nine years in a row. Bo’s father had wanted to hit the magical tenth win this year, but a lifetime of smoking had stolen the old man’s last breath just shy of his goal.
“This one’s for you,” Bo said, rapping his knuckles against the big smoker’s chimney. “And for me.”
The competition wasn’t just for bragging rights. The grandmaster title came with a ten grand purse. Bo could honor his father and clear his debts, all in one fell swoop.
If he could beat fifty of the best barbecue pitmasters in America.
All of whom were already working on their own briskets. The white smoke of dozens of other smokers filled the Oklahoma sky with thick clouds that smelled like heaven. Bo took a deep breath of that delicious scent. He’d spent nearly two decades of his twenty-five years tending a smoker with his old man, which gave him a bloodhound’s nose for picking apart the aroma of his competition’s favorite spices.
Some loved a sneaky pinch of cinnamon. Others used fresh garlic with liberal abandon. A few weirdos swore by coffee grounds in their rubs. Lots of folks injected their beef with savory fluids, too, but that felt like cheating to Bo. A good brisket was naturally moist and juicy. If you had to resort—
> WELCOME TO THE GRAIL SYSTEM, PEOPLE OF WORLD 696!
>
> SHUFFLE BEGINNING!
>
> DEALING IN PROGRESS…
>
> DECKS DISTRIBUTED!
>
> FINAL COUNTDOWN INITIATED!
>
> HARVEST SPONSORED BY HUNGRY HUNGRY HARVESTERS, A DIVISION OF DEVOURGUILD!
The thunderous voice blasted Bo out of his lawn chair. He scrambled back to his feet, hands clasped to his aching head, and looked around for the source of the godawful racket. RV doors and tent flaps flew open across campgrounds as other competitors stumbled out into the night, looking as confused as Bo felt.
> 3!
>
> HARVEST OVERLAY BOUNDARIES CALCULATED.
>
> SIX MILE HEX GRID ESTABLISHED.
>
> REALITY COMPENSATION ENGINES IGNITED.
>
> GATEWAY CRYSTALS ALIGNED.
>
> CHAMPION SELECTION UNDER WAY.
>
> GRAIL SYSTEM RANDOM HARVESTER SELECTION COMMENCING…
>
> HERITAGES CHOSEN
>
> * GRUNGE ELF (DROW SUBSPECIES 452,619,487)
> * DEVOURING DEVIL (INFERNAL SUBSPECIES 967,345,821)
> * DINGLE GNOME (DVERGAR SUBSPIECIES 246,135,879)
>
> CONGRATULATIONS TO THE SELECTED REAVER KINGDOMS! STARTING LOCATION SELECTION IN PROGRESS!
The barrage of earth-shaking words rattled Bo’s brain against the cage of his skull. He wondered if he was having a stroke. Or maybe the stress of the past week had snapped his mind like a twig.
Because the pro-wrestling announcer from hell could not possibly exist. The string of nonsense it spewed reminded Bo of the card game he’d played with May when they were both in school. Magic something or other. It was full of weird elves and gnomes and spells. But none of that was real, despite what the Satanic panic Karens of the world thought.
The simplest answer was that Bo had lost his mind. The second moon in the sky—a deep purple orb that reminded Bo of a misshapen plum—supported the young pitmaster’s hypothesis of batshit insanity.
But if this was all a product of Bo’s stress-induced madness, then the other competitors should still be asleep.
Right?
> 2!
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> INCURSION GATEWAYS ANCHORED!
>
> GRUNGE ELF STARTING LOCATION: 34.53x-97.91
>
> DEVOURING DEVIL STARTING LOCATION: 33.72, -97.15
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> DINGLE GNOME STARTING LOCATION: Crystal failure. Retrying…
>
> LOCAL CHAMPION IDENTIFIED!
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> GENERATING LOCAL CHAMPION DECK…
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> DEVILKIN CHALLENGER INCARNATED!
>
> RETRIEVE DECK FROM CHALLENGER TO CONTINUE COUNTDOWN!
As the voice boomed out the word “champion” a blazing white circle surrounded Bo. He’d hardly had time to register that fact when the announcement ended and the lid of his smoker flew open and a cloud of meaty smoke rose into the sky, looking to Bo like a leering skull.
“Where is my skin? WHERE ARE MY HORNS!” something bellowed through the veil of smoke.
Bo couldn’t believe his eyes as the haze cleared to reveal the thing on the grate. The Wagyu brisket had transformed into something out of a nightmare. Its lower half had split to form a pair of fibrous legs. A pair of stubby arms torn from the sides of the brisket flailed at the sky, stirring the rising smoke into violent whorls.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Most disturbing, though, was the way the point had partially pulled away from the brisket to form a gaping mouth that flapped as it bellowed in outrage.
“I will be free!” the roared.
The meat’s nightmare legs propelled it out of the smoker with surprising force.
Straight at Bo.
The pitmaster had handled more smoked protein than most men twice his age. Bo’s hands were and numb to the heat that was the primary tool of his trade. He’d long ago become accustomed to snatching meat off the grate with nothing more than a thin pair of plastic gloves to shield him from the broiling temperatures.
But he had zero experience in handling a piece of brisket that wanted him dead.
Twelve pounds of steaming meat drenched in a slick layer of rendered fat slammed into Bo’s chest. His T-shirt offered no protection against the boiling juices that soaked through to his skin in the blink of an eye. The brisket’s small, but powerful, arms flailed against his chest while the knobby legs curled around his right arm like a gruesome vise.
“Get off!” Bo howled.
“I will feast upon you, butcher!” The brisket roared right back at him. “Look what you have done to me!
Bo couldn’t help but look down the thing’s gullet as the makeshift lips flapped inches from his face. He saw a rectangular object trapped in the pocket between the point and flat muscles. It reminded him of a cigarette pack, but a little thinner and wider. Like a…
Deck of cards.
> RETRIEVE YOUR DECK TO PROCEED!
Bo no longer believed he was insane. He had a pretty vivid imagination, but there was no way he could have imagined any of this, much less all of it.
If he wasn’t crazy, then this was real. He had to do something, or the brisket would kill him. The dramatic announcer’s voice had given him the only clue on how to survive, and the pitmaster wouldn’t throw it away.
He braced himself for the pain and rammed his hand into the brisket monster’s mouth.
Scalding juices coated his arm from wrist to elbow. His fingers brushed against the slim rectangle he’d seen in the monster’s mouth. Covered in grease, the box slipped right through Bo’s fingers.
In response, the brisket’s toothless mouth closed tight around Bo’s hand. Hot oil squirted between the pitmaster’s fingers, and the salt and pepper rub coating the brisket tormented his scalded flesh. The brisket’s muscle fibers clenched like a meaty vise around Bo’s fingers, trapping his hand in a moist, greasy vault of pain.
Bo was not a small man. At six and a half feet tall and a solid two-hundred and fifty pounds of muscle hardened by years of hauling wood for the smoker, he was also not a weak man. The throbbing pain in his hand convinced him to put all his size and strength to the best use he could imagine.
Turning this piece of expensive, deadly meat into hamburger.
Bo raised his trapped hand into the air so hard he ripped the brisket’s legs free of his other arm. The slab of meat flailed its limbs wildly in the air, as if realizing just how much pain it was about to suffer.
“Time for the tenderizer!” The pitmaster roared and slammed the brisket to the ground with every ounce of strength he could muster.
Grease and chunks of soggy bark flew in every direction. But the brisket would not relent.
Bo raised it overhead smashed it into the ground again.
And again.
Again.
Half-raw meat and clouds of muddy spice rub flew in every direction. The brisket made a pitiful whining noise with every impact, but it still refused to release him.
“Fine,” the pitmaster growled.
He had trimmed this brisket himself. His fillet knife had carved away the hard, white fat between the point and the flat, leaving the two muscles connected by a thin, fibrous bridge.
Bo grabbed the meaty flap of the point in his free hand, then stomped down hard on the flat. It brought a tear to Bo’s eye to treat such an expensive chunk of beef like this, but he had no choice. With a grunt, the pitmaster yanked the two halves of the brisket apart.
The meat’s fatty point muscle tore free of the firmer flat with a wet squelching noise. The piece in Bo’s hand quivered as if trying to move, then went still. Bo fished a small box from the brisket’s remains and rubbed the grease off its lacquered surfaces with his T-shirt. A single gem occupied the center of one side. When Bo looked more closely at the stone, a brilliant light flashed into his eyes.
Glowing words scrolled across his vision, and the pitmaster couldn’t help but read them.
FIRST KILL!
Congratulations!
You are the first player to kill a creature during this harvest!
Your have earned an early warning of a deep insertion attack from the Devouring Devil Reaver’s Guild!
You have unlocked the following rewards!
TITLES: Murdero Uno (Unique), I Didn’t Hear No Bell (Uncommon), Rip and Tear (Uncommon)
LOOT: Muscle scraps (x5), rendered fat glob.
DECK CLAIMED!
DevourGuild recognizes your role as Champion of the Red River Casino and Resort hex.
Your hex contains: Dungeon Site (1), Predatory Animal Populations (3), Awakening Invasion Gate
A sponsorship license charge of ten thousand crypt coins has been debited against your Grail System Player Account.
All Grail System transactions carry a 15% service and convenience fee until have paid your license charge in full.
As a courtesy, we have deactivated most Grail System Sponsorship advertising for a nominal, per-use fee.
Name: Beauregard Euless Houston
Heritage: Human (native)
Core Level: 0
Alignment: Neutral Good
Origin: Earth 696
Deck Type: Striker
STR: +2, DEX: 0, INT: 0, WIS: -1, RES: 0, CON: +4
Status: Wounded
CHAMPION DECK CONTENTS
Metamorph
Type: Heritage
Activate: --
Generate: --
Power: 1
You may use the heritage cards of POW other heritages. Choose a new heritage whenever you raise this card’s POW. PERMANENT.
Rarity: Epic
Danger Spice
Type: Consumable
Activate: 1 Constitution
Generate: 1 Strength
Power: 1
Fling a handful of spices that are far superior to mere pocket sand into the faces of POW foes within short range, DISORIENTING them until the beginning of your next turn. Consume one meat to return to deck.
Rarity: Common
Hackstorm
Type: Power
Activate: 2Strength
Generate: --
Power: 1
In a savage display of brute force, you make one melee attack against each adjacent opponent.
Rarity: Uncommon
Severance
Type: Power
Activate: 1 Strength
Generate: --
Power: 2
'Tis but a flesh wound. When this attack causes damage to an opponent, add one meat (from your opponent’s body) to your personal inventory.
Rarity: Rare
Carnivore’s Cleaver
Type: Item
Activate: X Strength
Generate: --
Power: X
Chop a little, chop a lot. The choice is yours against a single melee target. POW is equal to the amount of STR mana used to activate after equipped. May grant meat on a critical strike.
Rarity: Common
CHALLENGES ASSIGNED!
Protect Your Own
Unspeakable monsters have overrun your immediate area. Save your allies from a painful death.
GOAL: Defeat all 100 possessed carrion.
REWARD: One insight token, 300 crypt coins.
Stop the Devouring Devils
An incursion point will appear one mile southwest of your location in two hours.
GOAL: Prevent incursion forces from anchoring their gateway.
REWARD: One random Uncommon Technique, Heritage, or Equipment card.
PENALTY: Devouring Devils will invade the Red River Casino hex for harvesting. You, and every other native creature in the hex, will be devoured. Harvesters will reduce your souls to crypt coins. Your flesh will fuel the invasion of your home world. You will suffer for an eternity in the bellies of those foul devils who devour you. It will suck.
Assert Dominance
Champions are responsible for the defense of their hexes and the destruction of their enemies.
GOAL: Find and conquer the focal dungeon for your hex.
REWARD: Hex dominance for the Red River Casino hex.
PENALTY: If this quest is not completed in thirty days, DevourGuild will revoke your Champion status. You will die.
CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR NEW ROLE AS CHAMPION!
Dread filled Bo’s heart. He didn’t understand all of what he’d read, but the last challenge leaped out at him. The only thing a mile southwest of his current location was the bridge that carried I-35 across the Red River from Texas into Oklahoma. Some terrible things would soon show up there. And if he didn’t stop them, everyone around him was dead.
> 1!
>
> Decks distributed to all champions!
>
> The Grail System has initiated!
>
> Let the harvest begin!
>
> GOOD LUCK FROM DEVOURGUILD! MAY YOUR DEATHS BE GLORIOUS!
“Well,” Bo said. “Shit.”
Card art for Metamorph [https://i.imgur.com/oK9AeQe.png]Card art for Danger Spice [https://i.imgur.com/JFKVIrU.png]
Card Art for Hackstorm [https://i.imgur.com/v2Mk3fh.png]Card art for Severance [https://i.imgur.com/L1AUnMw.png]
Card art for Carnivore's Cleaver [https://i.imgur.com/j4QD32S.png]