Jenny nudged Bo in the ribs. “Get a load of her,” she said. “Lydia, I'm not sure if you're aware, but I doubt anyone's logging on to Facebook anytime soon. We're kind of in the middle of an apocalypse, as near as I can figure.”
The horse-faced monster opened an extra set of eyes set low on her snout, blinked curiously at Jenny, and idly stroked Bev's hair with her clawed hands. “You seem to be of the mistaken impression that the only social media that matters is here on this harvest world. The games are very popular in media across the Multiverse. Your victory over the Apocalypse Sow, for example, was witnessed, wagered on, and entertained more than a million spectators via farcaster crystals, deep immersion pools, and experiential transfer pods. I daresay your ratings are quite good for a pack of humans from a world that will soon be reduced to its constituent motes of energy.”
“Great,” Bo said. “So now weirdos from other worlds are eyeballing my every move?”
Lydia let out a dramatic sigh, then gently pushed Bev away. “Run along, child. I’ve something to show to your friends. Play with the old man. I doubt he'll be able to understand any of this, anyway.”
Slick opened his mouth to protest, then shrugged. “She’s probably right. I don't know anything about Twitters or TikThotters or whatever else people post their private business on these days. I'll keep an eyeball on the kid.”
“You're so old,” Bev said. “Have you ever seen the Aquanauts?”
Jenny and Bo chuckled at that, then followed Lydia out of the casino to the smoker sitting just beyond the cave's entrance. The massive chunk of beautiful metal looked even better in the bright light of day. Bo imagined its enormous belly could hold a full-grown pig, and the firebox was three times larger than the one in his dad's old smoker. The smokestack had a pair of daisy wheels to manage its draft, and to top it off, the thing looked brand new.
“That sure is a beauty,” Bo said.
“Yes,” Lydia said. “It is. Not nearly as portable as I'd prefer, but I suppose you could just leave it here and build your camp around it. That would be much easier than moving it to wherever your people are.”
“They're down at the campsite,” Jenny said. “With all their belongings. Convincing them to move up to a cave won't be easy.”
“Change isn't easy for any of us,” Lydia said. “Until you came along, I was the majordomo for the most impressive dungeon. I imagined wonderful days ahead, my life filled with purpose as I helped the Apocalypse Sow spread her empire into neighboring hexes. It would've been glorious. Alas, my former employer is now gone. I believe you would find my services most helpful if you choose to take me on as your assistant.”
Jenny and Bo exchanged dubious glances. “You just said you were a monster's second-in-command before we killed her. How can I trust you?”
“Perhaps a demonstration of my knowledge is in order,” Lydia said. “That might help you understand the implications of having a creature such as myself in your employ.”
Jenny rolled her eyes but nodded to Bo. The pitmaster shrugged and said, “Go on then. Show me what you've got.”
All four of Lydia’s eyes opened and glowed with pride. She drew herself up to her full, impressive height, and gestured toward the smoker with open hands like a monstrous Vanna White. “This is a Model 5M0K3 community anchor,” Lydia said. “It has all four basic upgrade paths available: Defense, Arcane, Faith, and Craft. By completing community quests, you and your followers may upgrade any of these paths to provide basic and advanced functions for your new home. In addition, you may solicit energy from donors, who provide resources and influence to invest in community features.”
“How's it work?” Bo asked.
“Glad you asked,” Lydia said, gesturing for the pitmaster and Jenny to approach. She opened the smoker's lid with a flourish, revealing cast iron grill plates and three wire racks. “While this may appear to be nothing more than a simple cooking tool, it contains far more important functions. Bo touched the grill and asked to see the quest menu.”
The pitmaster felt a bit foolish, but he followed the monster's instructions. After all, he’d just killed a magical pig monster from another world. Talking to a smoker wasn't that outlandish in comparison.
“Show me the quests,” he said.
AVAILABLE COMMUNITY QUESTS
Destroy the Spawn Points
The Red River Hex contains three spawn points: Jackalopes, Thunder Bison, and Minotaur Lizards.
GOAL: Destroy two or more spawn points.
REWARD: Receive one Community Build Token for every spawn point destroyed.
PENALTY: Spawn points will grow stronger every ten days. After thirty days, a boss will appear at a fully developed spawn point and lead the other monsters in an invasion to destroy your community anchor.
Collect Horns
Minotaur lizards are renowned for the sharp, magic-infused horns from which they get their name. These prized objects can be rendered down into their magical essences.
GOAL: Collect fifty Minotaur lizard horns.
REWARD: One Community Build Token. This quest may be repeated.
PENALTY: Minotaur lizards breed with magical speed. The hex may be overrun with them if they are not culled quickly.
Find the Necrotok
A sinister device used to communicate with the dead has been identified in your hex.
GOAL: Seize or destroy the Nekrotok.
REWARD: One Community Build Toke or the Necrotok.
PENALTY: The Necrotok will assemble its undead cohort and move on to phase two of its plan in thirty days.
Where’s the Beef?
A rival smoking group has set up in your hex. They preach the gospel of the wet mop, a threat to your very way of life.
GOAL: Prevent the smokers from spreading their foul lies.
REWARD: One Community Build Token for destroying these heathens. Two Community Build Tokens for converting them to your superior methods.
PENALTY: Uncontested, these foul beasts will destroy your traditions and fill the world with too-sweet, too-sticky smoked meats.
Save Ten Rats
The rat king is coming…
GOAL: Save ten rats from a fate worse than death.
REWARD: The gratitude of ten rats.
PENALTY: The rat king is coming…
THERE ARE SEVENTY-THREE ADDITIONAL QUESTS AVAILABLE
“Okay,” Bo said, dismissing the rest of the quest menu. “I get the picture. I assume all these Community Build Tokens are for upgrading the smoker?”
Lydia nodded to him and crossed her arms over her chest. “You're catching on quickly, for a human. I worried this would take all day. Yes, you are rewarded with CBTs when you complete a quest. You can exchange them to upgrade your community. As your community's core level increases, you will receive more challenging opportunities with greater rewards. Of course, these will come with greater risks, but such is the way of life in a world slated for harvesting.”
The sun had sunk low on the horizon as they spoke to Lydia. It would be full dark in an hour, and Bo didn't fancy his odds of dragging this enormous smoker back to camp across an un-mowed field. He also didn't want to stay here, because it wouldn't be long before Hank put together a posse to come look for Bo and his allies.
“We need to move this smoker back to the campsite,” Bo said. “Which means we need to head out now or we’ll never make it back before dark.”
Lydia frowned and shrugged. “Why? Leave the smoker here with me, go back and get your companions, and bring them to the cave. It will be much safer here and it will be easy enough to roll the smoker inside, where it can be better protected from the elements and enemies. Plus, I’ll have a social media connection for you on your return, to show you my real value.”
That made sense, but Bo wasn't sure he could convince the rest of his people to pack up their crap and move to the cave. Not to mention that some of the old folks would have a hard time with the hike. Or that they'd all be sitting ducks crossing that wide-open field with monsters lurking about.
“I thought you were powerful,” Bo said, hoping he could goad Lydia into doing something. “You could move it for us.”
The horse-faced monster chuckled and shook her head. “While I appreciate your attempts to manipulate me into acting in your best interest, I’m far more valuable for my information and insight than physical strength.”
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“You look plenty strong to me,” Jenny said. “You could prove your worth by dragging this thing across the plane for us.”
“I've no desire to do any such thing,” Lydia retorted.
“I'm not real keen on leaving our fancy new smoker here with you,” Jenny said.
“Then I suppose you have a decision to make,” the monster said with a shrug. “I promise you I have no interest in damaging the focus.”
“Give us a second,” Bo said, motioning for Jenny to join him over by Slick and Bev. When they were all together, he lowered his voice. “I hate to admit it, but I think she's right. We need to move the camp over here. It's more defensible. The shelter is better, and we won't have to worry about lugging that monster of a smoker over rough terrain.”
“I doubt this one will make it back to camp without one of us carrying her,” Slick said, nodding to the little girl napping in his lap. “She's had a long day.”
Jenny furrowed her brow and kneeled down beside Slick. “We can't leave just one of us here with Lydia.”
Bo didn't like the idea of leaving anyone with the horse-faced monster, but he knew that was the only good option. He could make good time back to the camp, then get folks to bring just what they needed for one night. That would put the meager supplies they left behind in danger from a jackalope attack, but Bo would rather do that than risk people's lives. Best to get them settled in, then worry about moving everything else over here when they had more time. Maybe they could tame some of those Thunder Bison to tow some RVs.
Or maybe pigs would fly out of his butt.
“I'll go back,” Bo said. “You two watch out for each other, Bev, and that smoker. If Lydia makes any hostile moves, run.”
“I'll cut her head off if she tries anything,” Jenny said.
“Yeah, probably not,” Bo replied. “She's still a core level nine monster.”
Bev stirred in Slick's lap and peered up at Bo through her curly hair. “She's not a monster. She's nice.”
“Okay, sure,” Bo said. “Just make sure she stays nice, all right?”
“I won’t let her hurt anyone,” Bev said, then snuggled in against Slick and went back to sleep.
Jenny stood up and gave Bo a hug. “Be careful out there,” she whispered.
“As much as I can be,” Bo answered.
Which, as it turned out, did not help at all.
----------------------------------------
The trip back across the plain took Bo less time than he’d thought it would. His strides seemed longer, his steps quicker. He attributed that to boosting his Strength and decided to do that again just as soon as he could.
Bo was halfway back to the camp when he heard the first low rumbles and felt the ground shake. He searched the sky for any sign of storm clouds or lightning, but the blue sky was utterly clear. The only thing unusual were the ghostly twin moons, which grew more visible as the sun sank toward the horizon. Bo didn’t know what made that noise, but he knew he didn’t want to find out, either.
“Get to the camp, get your people, and head back to the cave,” he muttered
And what if this is all a big trap?
“You could have brought that up before I left the cave,” Bo said. “Though I don’t think you’re right. Lydia could have killed us all back in the cave, then come down here to off our people.”
You assume Lydia can leave the cave. Her plan could be to lure fresh meat to her lair and destroy you all at her leisure.
“That is some grim shit, Barbie,” Bo said. “Any other sunshine to drop on my head?”
I’ve been thinking about Lydia’s offer. She is correct in at least one thing. These harvests attract a lot of viewers. Not from every world, mind you, but those advanced enough to have farcasters or better modes of communication lap up these events like Jangoleesi desert hounds on a fresh blood lick. If you caught the eye of the right patron, your life might get a lot easier.
“Or they might ask me to do something gross,” Bo said. “Isn’t that what you warned me about?”
Some patrons have more prurient interests at heart. But you are a very vanilla man, Bo. Perhaps your fans are just rooting for a scrappy underdog with very average intelligence.
“I don’t think so,” Bo said. The ground had shaken twice more since the first tremor, and the uncertainty about its source irritated him. “I think they’re rooting for the upright young man who foiled a devil invasion and captured one of them in the iron vise of his mind.”
As if I am a captive. I can leave whenever I want.
“Then go,” Bo said. “I need some peace and quiet. Something’s out there, and I want to see it before it sees me.”
We know there are jackalopes, minotaur lizards, and thunder bison out here. My bet is on the bison. Is that one off to your left?
Bo frowned and peered off in the direction Barbie had indicated. There was a dense line of mesquite trees that blocked most of his line of sight, but was that a shadow looming above their tops or just leaves blowing in the breeze?
If the thunder bison were that massive, Bo did not want to tangle with them. He’d seen hoofprints on his way over to the casino. They were big enough to stomp him flat with ease.
Still, if they were bison, maybe they’d mind their own business. As long as Bo didn’t mess with the mighty creatures, he shouldn’t have anything to worry about.
He hoped.
Yes, that is likely. Monsters brought to life through magic are often peaceful, herbivorous creatures. I’m sure you’ll be fine.
----------------------------------------
Bo arrived back at camp just as several men were heading out. He hailed them as they passed the outer circle of RVs, and the group headed his way. They came together fifty yards outside the camp, and the other folks were clearly relieved to see Bo.
“Sorry, I thought I’d get back before you started out to find me,” Bo said.
“Glad you made it back,” Hank replied, shaking Bo’s hand. “Sorry about Jenny and Slick.”
Bo chuckled and shook his head. “They’re fine. But I’ve got news and need to discuss it with everyone.”
“Head for the middle of camp,” Hank replied. “We’ll round up everyone else.”
“I appreciate it,” Bo said. “It’s been thirsty work today. I could use a few minutes' rest.”
That was about all Bo got. The other campers gathered around as he headed for the middle of camp, and by the time he took a seat in one of the lawn chairs gathered around the central fire, there was quite a crowd. Bo convinced them to wait for his story until everyone arrived, but that didn’t stop everyone from pestering about the day’s adventures.
Bo still hadn’t processed everything that had happened, so he condensed it down to the bullet points for the crowd. Yes, there was a dungeon. Yes, he and his friends had wiped out the monsters. No, no one was hurt.
By his third round of telling the Readers’ Digest version of the story, everyone had gathered around. Bo clapped his big hands together, then stood up and raised his voice so everyone could hear.
“Listen, folks,” he shouted so loud even Gertrude all the way in the back would understand him. “We need to move our camp over to the casino. The shelter is more secure, and there’s plenty of room for everyone. I’d rather we all move out now, carrying just what you need for tonight. We can come back in the morning for the rest of your gear.”
A tall woman with a beer belly and a wild mop of dirty blond hair raised her hand. She didn’t wait for Bo to recognize her before she asked her question. “Do we have to move tonight?”
Bo nodded and gestured toward the sinking sun. “There are a lot more monsters out there than I expected,” he said. “I’d feel a lot better if you all were safely squared away in the casino before it’s full dark and we have to worry about another jackalope attack.”
“And what if those horned bastards hit us while we’re on the march?” another woman, this one rail thin with her hair pulled back into a night-black ponytail, asked.
“We’ll bring weapons,” Bo said. “And I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. If the jackalopes come back, we’ll make them regret their decision.”
To emphasize his point, Bo summoned Carnivore’s Cleaver, and tossed it into the air before snatching its handle on the way down. Before the crowd’s first gasp had died out, Bo tossed his weapon on top of a nearby camper and activated Hog’s Hop.
That little move really had a wow factor, and a low murmur of amazement passed through the gathered campers.
“I say we don’t move at all,” a youngish man wearing a Salt Life cap and a pair of Oakley mirror shades said around a wad of chewing tobacco. “We killed them jackalopes dead as Hell last time they showed up. We can do it again.”
Kill him. He will cause trouble if you do not.
Bo did not want to kill any of the campers, but he worried about how to assert his leadership in situations like this one. He didn’t want to be in charge of all these people, but he felt it was important to move them all to the casino cavern. They’d be safer there, for starters. They’d also be closer to the community focus, which would make it easier for Bo to improve their defenses.
While he considered what to do next, Bo saw the crowd begin to divide. Some of them were definitely gathering around Salt Life. The longer Bo waited to say something, the more followers the dissenter would gather. He needed to nip this in the bud.
“I appreciate your opinion,” Bo said as he hopped down to the ground. “How many dungeons did you clear again?”
The crowd chuckled at that, and Bo felt the tide swing back in his favor. He’d done the dirty work, not this guy, and people knew it.
“So you say,” the man replied. “Look, no one knows what you did out there. You disappeared in the middle of the night, then came back with weird legs. Which are now a very weird shade of pink. For all we know, you were rolling around in the bushes having a threesome with Jenny and Slick.”
The crowd responded to that with gasps and a lot of “oooh” noises. Bo frowned, not because he cared about what people thought of him, but because he wouldn’t stand by and let someone badmouth his friends. Jenny and Slick had helped Bo fight a monster out of nightmares while this guy was lazing around camp trading jackalope stories with his bros.
Bo knew he had a decision to make. In the old world, he’d have just laughed this guy off and gone about his business. In this one, though, that option would cost him the respect of a lot of people he needed on his side. Things had gone primitive, even feral, in the past day and a half. Going along to get along wouldn’t work.
On the other hand, if Bo took a swing at this guy, it would set a precedent that violence was an acceptable solution to disagreements. The pitmaster tried to imagine how that would play out over the days and weeks ahead of them. No, punching Salt Life’s lights out wasn’t the answer, either.
He needed to find a middle ground. And the comments about his legs might be the answer. Bo mulled it over for another second, then made his decision.
“Let’s settle this like men,” Bo said, striding toward Salt Life.
The pitmaster saw himself reflected in the man’s sunglasses and realized he looked awfully ridiculous. He still wore his apron and rubber gloves, his boots still had loops of now-dried meat attached, and, yes, his legs were the color of a pink baby piglet. Bo couldn’t help but chuckle at the ridiculous image.
Salt Life took that in the very worst way imaginable. “You laughing at me?”
This close, Bo saw the man was only a few years older than he was. His nose and cheeks were also flushed, and the yeasty aroma of beer wafted from his mouth. The guy was drunk, which explained his belligerence.
“Nah, man,” Bo said. “I’m laughing at my stupid pink legs. Listen, I know you’ve got strong feelings about moving. I do, too. I guess there’s only one way to settle this.”
“Damn straight,” Salt Life said. “Let’s fight.”
Bo did laugh that time. “I’m not fighting you. We’ll settle our differences with the time-honored tradition of leg wrestling.”
The truth was, Bo had no doubt he could stomp the drunk man into the dirt. Not only was the pitmaster much stronger than he’d been the day before, but he’d also picked up a lot of fighting skill in the past twenty-four hours.
Unfortunately, hacking Salt Life to pieces with Carnivore’s Cleaver was out of the question. Bo needed to put the guy in his place without terrorizing the rest of the folks. Leg wrestling was just the right mix of utterly ridiculous, while still being a strength test that macho dorks couldn’t refuse.
“I’d rather punch your teeth out,” Salt Life said.
“C’mon, man,” Bo said. “You’re not afraid of some stupid pink legs, are you?”
Salt Life looked at his buddies, who gave him a little shrug. “Whatever. Let’s get this over with. I win, we stay put.”
“Deal,” Bo said, and dropped to the ground. He raised one pink leg and patiently waited for Salt Life to do the same.
The rest of the camp site’s residents had gathered around with looks of mixed admiration and amusement on their face. They seemed very invested in the contest’s outcome, which told Bo he’d made the right choice. He wanted people on his side because he was making the right decisions, not because he’d scared the piss out of them.
“One,” Bo said when Salt Life assumed the position. The two men knocked heels together, then dropped their legs again.
“Two,” Salt Life continued, and they raised their legs once again.
“Three,” Bo said.
And then it was on.
Salt Life moved with surprising speed for someone who’d downed a six pack earlier in the day. He latched his ankle behind Bo’s and heaved for all he was worth. The sudden motion surprised the pitmaster, who ended up with his leg bent halfway back to his chest.
But it stopped there. No matter how hard Salt Life pressed on Bo’s leg, it wouldn’t move. Then, inexorably, Bo levered his leg up and over.
Salt Life huffed and puffed. The muscles in his neck stood out against his skin like high-tension wires. Try as he might, though, the man was no match for Bo’s supernaturally enhanced might.
Bo rolled Salt Life over and rested his heel on the ground. He stood up immediately and offered his opponent a hand up.
“You’re stronger than you look, big buy,” Salt Life said.
“I get that a lot,” Bo replied. “We good?”
“I still think moving is a waste of time, but, yeah, we’re good,” Salt Life replied.
Before Bo could shake the man’s hand, the ground trembled again. It was harder this time, and much, much louder.
“What the hell is that?” Gertrude asked. She was pointing to the east, where a cloud of dust rose into the sunset sky. A cloud that was getting closer.
Bo had a sneaking suspicion. “I think we’re about to meet the thunder bison.”