‘Twas a scene right out of Kelly’s Heroes. Three armed warriors marching shoulder-to-shoulder down an alleyway underground corridor—dimly lit by the sparse magic lightbulb things—our boots somehow clinking despite a lack of spurs. Cam was our lovable skeptic, Big Joe; I, of course, was Clint Eastwood since it’s my scene and I get to pick the cool character, and Lechia was Oddball, because, well… the copious amount of marijuana in her system. It wasn’t a T-34 movie-magicked up to be a Panzerkampfwhatever VI Tiger in front of us, though, and we weren’t about to parlay with a nazi. It worked back in 1970, but that sort of plotline wouldn’t get greenlit nowadays.
Cam and I cradled our Bisons, ready to dispense the biggest ‘fuck you’ venom bolts this side of the shitty worldgen (or whatever the hell sort of brush tool the gods used). The guitar theme from the movie was playing in my head—or the closest approximation from memory—as we came into the dimly-lit room ahead. Small fires were burning in the central room of floor 1: The most populated, most well-defended position. A stupid idea to waltz right in 98% of the time. The other 2% being when you have a boss’ boss’ boss by your side… which we did.
We strode proudly, flagrantly into the central room, a high-ceilinged, 200x200 foot carved square of dark stone with some nice stylized tiling in the middle. And there they were, 30-50 feral orcs that ran into the dungeon while the real estate deal was going through. Actually, a lot more than that, but that wouldn’t be as close to the original quote so fuck it. They were formed up in a concave… mob I guess.
Flunky orcs aren’t renowned for their smarts. They know how to hold a weapon, how to get and eat a thing, how to reproduce, and how to make things that aren't them suffer and die. Everything else is a roll of the dice. Case in point, most of them had the minimal loincloth and chest bindings. A lot were… let’s say just hangin’ around, regardless of gender. Don’t let your thoughts get too far into the gutter, though, cuz they. fucking. stink. Like, there’s rivers everywhere… USE THEM.
They had the assorted clubs of bone, pointy sticks, deteriorating farm implements, and militia gear. Not one of them was wearing any armor that didn’t take more than 20 seconds to don or doff either, so that left us lots of soft, supple bellies and chiseled pectorals to shoot for. Center-mass and all.
It was this sort of… frozen moment. A microcosm of the calm before the storm with about 100 orcs ready to charge us, but not quite willing to do it… yet. Lechia took one last drag of her pipe before dumping the smoldering contents and stashing it in her belt. Then, she stepped her massive spider-self forward and removed one of her ‘hairpins’ from its scabbard.
The tiny, needle-like blade instantly grew to something like a spatha sword with a thin black blade, a tiny golden cross-guard, and a pommel made from a purple orb full of swirling energies. Cam and I were either side of her, the right flank belonging to me as we poised ourselves to play second fiddle to her epic solo. The orcs roared in unison, ringing our ears and starting their charge. Lechia softly tutted and prepared her riposte.
We leveled our auto-crossbows and opened up on the ends of the formation as Lechia swirled her sword. From the tip of the blade extended a line of silk no thicker than twine. It grew long in moments and she swung the blade, launching a horrifically-effective tripwire right at the formation, catching 20-some orcs by the ankles and sending them toppling to the ground. They then became a tripping hazard, stalling the charge as they trampled over one another.
I finished my first magazine and deftly slid my hand down to flick the catch with my thumb. A quick shake of the crossbow sent the empty clattering to the floor as I swiftly tilted in the full and took aim once more. In the time it took me to reload, the second mass-tripping had gone down and the formation was starting to scatter wide. I aimed for the furthest-right orcs and started thwip-thwipping my way left.
There always was something so pure and satisfying about the Bison with empress’-venom bolts. You point, you shoot, they drop dead (or dying). You know what it is? It’s L4D. Big horde o’ mobs, and every pull of the trigger is one less to worry about. And speaking of aggressive hordes, the one in front of me was closing in just a bit too quick. I didn’t have time for any calculations, so I let trained muscle memory take the wheel and sacrificed the shooting time for a quick-cast of stickslick.
A big, thick, gooey black puddle formed in front of me, having all the best properties of grease and tar, slippery when you step on it, and sticky when you fall in it. It burns too, but who would ever think of exploiting that? A few more stumbled and fell so I shot the ones that didn’t. Right as I finished mag #2, I heard Cam yelp. I spared a glance over my shoulder to see Lechia had picked him up by the collar to lift him free of the green tide, then thrust 8 appendages forward (3 legs, 2 pedipalps, 2 fangs, and 1 arm with a sword) to impale 13 orcs in a goddamn tredecuple-kill.
Seeing Cam as safe enough for the moment, I looked back and noticed that I had done a no-look reload… which I enjoyed by shooting more greenies. It was downhill from there. Lechia landed 4 mass trips in all, and not a single tripped orc had escaped the webbing unscathed. Those who broke free had to slice off a patch of skin or amputate a foot, which a few did, but what were they going to do after that, hobble at us menacingly? (I know that’s ableist, but I allow myself to be an ist with isms toward flunky orcs in specific.)
That left 20 orcs tops after the first 15-ish seconds. Just enough for us to shoot, stab, and otherwise brutally murder without so much as a moment of regret. It would have been 40-50 without myself and Cam, at which point they could have mobbed Lechia from every direction and made her really mad. Granted, she would have won anyway and has a platoon of minions specifically for calming her down when she’s steaming mad… but—to paint a picture—they’re the only minions she has life insurance for.
I shot everything with even a remote chance of standing up in the next 10 seconds, then faced Madame Gossamer. She was breathing heavily, clutching a sword in one hand and holding Cam up by the collar with the other. A quick check of the watch pointed to mid-yellow. I cleared my throat and she instinctively snapped her attention to the more coherent noise (as opposed to assorted angry orc grunting). I mustered an authoritative tone.
“You, deep breaths, treats,” I ordered, waggling a pouch of chocolate covered espresso beans.
Being the boss of bosses that she was, an ordering tone from anyone but herself was so far out of left-field that it made her stop and think. She looked at Cam, who avoided eye contact, then set him down and flicked the blood off her sword before returning it to hairpin status. I gave Cam the ‘shoo’ hand and he got the message, promptly fucking off out of her reach. I then tossed her the pouch and she popped a few beans into her mouth.
Once she produced and lit her pipe, Cam and I stuck to the briefly-discussed plan and started going through the field of bodies and tripped orcs, quietly executing everything that wasn’t dead. Gruesome, but important. Some orcs did jump up at us, but when you have a crossbow with like, a 95/100 on the paralysis chance and the ability to shoot 5 times a second it’s a big whoop.
The smell of the unwashed masses, defecation, blood, and probably sex slowly intermingled with weed as Lechia snacked and blazed herself back to an affable state. Cam and I were halfway done with the executions when she joined in, playfully stepping along and using her fangs to jab inch-wide holes into assorted bodies. Like, I don’t think she even needs the venom at that point; a 1-inch diameter hole in your chest is just kinda… dead.
When all fell silent, we reconvened. “Well, darlings, that was certainly a fight,” she opened, stretching her arms. “It was good having you two by my side, it saved me some stress. You’ll have to work on shooting faster, Cameron, dear.”
At that, she placed one of her pedipalp-hands on his shoulder real casually. He hated it, so I spoke up to keep her attention. “Well the first fight is all well and good, but how much more do you think we need to clear right off the bat?”
She rubbed her cheek. “Hmm. I sense a handful in the rooms to the left and right, but quite a few fled down that hall across from us to the lower levels. You both were too short to see, but a number of them did retreat. We had best capture the bridge. That will secure our foothold. The side offshoots can wait their turn.”
Lechia released Cam’s shoulder and strutted over to the left hall, crushing ribs, backs and limbs, and impaling soft bellies as she went in a show of total disregard for her fallen foes. She webbed up the hall, then crossed the room with another overly-gratuitous bout of crunching and splatting in order to seal that route. She was grinning madly by the time she joined us at the hall across from the entrance. What can I say? The woman takes pleasure in the little things.
It was a short passageway until we came to the bridge. Or… the place where it should’ve been. “Ugh, the ingrates retracted it,” Lechia whined.
Cam took a step forward and gazed down into the Moria-grade chasm before us. One of those infinite drops into the inky blackness, extending left and right until you couldn’t see a thing, and a ceiling so high and spiky that none dare cross it. I checked for a button on our side, but you don’t put drawbridge controls on the other side of the moat…
“Uhh, Boss, what's our plan?” Cam inquired nervously.
Lechia sighed. “Hmm, it’s only 70 feet, I could try web or jumping it. No, that wall looks too unstable,” she muttered.
I held a hand up and shook it. “Hsst! Hsst!” I hissed, silencing them. “I got this.”
They watched as I pointed to the button on the far side of the chasm. Then I spun my wrist in a cute little energy circle, and extended my hand through the basic magic ring, pressing the button with a neat spell known as disjoint. There was a click and the bridge started extending out of the opposite side. Madame Gossamer leaned back with a smile.
“Oh! I can’t believe that spell is still in print.”
I shook my head. “It isn’t. My instruction pamphlet is an antique.”
……
“You! Cur! Who said you were allowed to live?” Lechia barked, pointing to an orc who was hobbling off toward the exit.
Cam raised his crossbow, but I stopped him and we watched instead. The orc increased his pace as he power-limped toward salvation. She shook her head and bent her knees. I bent mine as well as she leapt into the air, crossing the entire room in one jump and landing right at her prey. The shock of her departure shook the floor as badly as that of her landing, launching Cam about an inch into the air both times.
“Fuuuuuuuck,” he whispered as she turned to the side, revealing the orc’s limp form hanging from her fang, which went in through his right shoulder and exited out his left thigh. She shook and the corpse kinda… slid off.
We watched as she casually strung up all 94 (final count) bodies to drag them off deeper into the left side rooms. It sure was a fancy-schmancy smear of red on the floor when she was done! Very stylized. A niche artform. How much description is necessary here? I should have stopped a paragraph ago? Well too bad. Since Lechia was stringing up bodies with high-velocity web throws, we stayed in the hallway and studied the provided map to plan our route.
Once she had all the meat ready to drag, Cam and I entered the room and the three of us gathered. “Alright, you go do your thing, Lechia. We’ll clear the right side and meet you back here in 20.”
“Very good, darlings. Take your time,” she responded, wiping her bloody hand on my shoulder.
I magically flicked the blood off my shirt, then spun on my heel. “Well then, Cam, off we–”
“ACK!”
I stopped and spun back around. “Ma’am, please set my employee down.”
It had only been 2 seconds, but in that time she had tied Cam’s hands together, picked him up, and slung his arms over her shoulders. I’m not sure which of us she was even paying attention to.
“Ohh, but I was craving more chocolate after those beans…”
I put my hands on my hips. “Put him down, or the good behavior discount goes out the window. And don’t relate his skin color to food, that’s just rude.”
“Fine,” she huffed, then unhanded Cam. He darted to my side right quick. “Now, Locust, riddle me this. I have been told that I cannot call him and his ilk brown, black, dark, compare him to the sheen of skin or fur found on many beasts, and now you say I cannot speak of him as food? Even if I would love to eat him up?”
I shot her a glare for Cam, since he was, well, on the verge of panic. I unsheathed my sword to cut the web off his wrists as I spoke. “He’s just a guy, Lechia. He might have dark skin, but that’s not an excuse to bring it up constantly. You don’t call my ass vanilla, or snowy, or like a white tiger, so don’t do it to him.”
Lechia sighed. “Very well. Now come here, Cameron. No blade can cut my webs,” she boasted as I… cut the webs binding his wrists. She froze for a moment, then straightened up. “...Unless it’s vorpal. Off you go, killjoys.”
She then about-faced and dragged her 94 hunks of meat off to her soon-to-be private offshoot. I fetched the araneus braces from my bag and tossed one to Cam. “Put this on, it’s time for some snap training.”
Cam inspected the little leather vambrace with a black metal rod running from the wrist to halfway up the forearm. “Wuzzat?” he asked rather calmly now that Lechia was gone.
“It’s a good, but niche little thing. It has two functions, both activated the same way.” I finished strapping mine down on my left hand. “To turn it on, you have to treat it like one of those crystal singing bowls. Lick your finger, then just run the fingertip around the metal until it hums.”
His gaze sat on me for a moment, then he nodded and repeated after me. He strapped it on, then licked and stroked (yeah yeah, laugh it up, fuzzball). It starts subtle, but we got the tone going. It sounded like a good ol’ vwumvwumwvumvwumvwum or something. Singing bowl really is the best analogy that comes to mind. I approached the webbed corridor.
“Feature one: Silkbending. There are more advanced aspects, but let’s keep it simple for now. Webbing cannot come within a few inches of the equipped arm. Even includes Madame Gossamer’s web, though she can revoke that privilege at any time. Observe:”
I traced my hand along some of the archway, dislodging the webbing that barred the path. It didn’t make a complete opening, but it did show the function. “Go on, give it a try.”
Not much needs to be said about that. Cam has a brain and can therefore use such a simple magic item. “What’s the other function?” he asked, after becoming confident in the web-barrier effect.
“All arachnids obey you, all arachnid-based creatures obey—or are severely intimidated by—you. One obvious exception. You can guess who, since she made these. Kinda.”
“Yup, we going in now?”
“Nope. One more thing to go over first: The basics of Building Entering and Clearing. Lesson one: Slicing the Pie.”
……
We had a system going. Cam gets credit here because he was helping, even if it’s 100% my strategy and he was just along for the ride. We follow the left-hand rule for maze navigation and every right turn gets trapped. (Side note, we used ‘claymores’, which is a proximity trap-wand that spawns an ethereal… claymore sword to swing at passers-by. They work and stuff, but I still cannot tell if they’re more or less awesome than the Earth version…) We reached corner 5 and executed the strat. I would be 4-5 feet back from the corner, then slowly circle-strafe around it whilst aiming down the sights. If anything popped out, I’d shoot it, and if too much popped out, I’d back up and Cam would shoot it.
This had only happened once for each scenario by corner 5, but we were in our groove. Reach a room, throw in a thunderclap (legally distinct from a thunderstone, this one flashes too) and enter. Empty. Sort of. It was the room where the orcs would shit in the corner. What a lovely smell that our noses could have tipped us off to if they hadn’t switched off 20 minutes ago. Next room.
About 4 hallways later, I was doing the sidestep when a spear swung at me around the corner. I stepped back and sank a bolt into the orc as 2 more charged. I dropped one, Cam got the other. After a glance, I signaled the all-clear and we were about to move on. He stood over one of the felled orcs with a frown.
“Damn, this one’s the closest to a kid I’ve seen so far…”
I looked over and saw what he meant. Seemed about early teens. “Mmhmm, he’s probably one.”
“One?” he asked incredulously.
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“Yeah, one. The orc body grows faster when unburdened by things like… intelligence, culture, morality, honor…. I’ll stop there.”
“Really? We shot a kid and you’re quoting that asshat from... whatzit, Borderlands??”
I shrugged. “He’s quotable. Besides, they’re orcs and we can write on the press release that he came at us aggressively.” Cam looked more hurt by that one than anything else. “Fine, I’ll put that one as half bad-taste on my part, and half that you need more skill points in gallows humor… if you know what’s good for you. C’mon, next sightline.”
He followed wordlessly and we cleared the next few angles with silent precision. When we next reached a dead end and needed to double back, I spoke up. “It is true, you know. Orcs grow slower when you start filling their brains with useful stuff. That mob we faced probably had a lot of 4-year-olds.”
I didn’t look back to see his face, but he answered a moment later with a more neutral tone. “So… are flunkies like the fortnite kids of monsters, just sub the cringe for rage?”
“There’s certainly enough of them to fill that metric.”
……
It was mostly the damaged, sick, or underdeveloped orcs in the side wing. Anyone not seen as fit enough for the big charge (a major insult) but not unfit enough to be literally cannibalized. There was one more room, though. Unlike the others—which had the doors bashed open and were totally unmarked—this one had the door shut, barricaded from the outside, and had multiple skulls strewn about the place but deliberately stood up. There were also several large Xs painted in blood.
Cam and I shared a look. “Message received,” I muttered.
He swished his lips. “What’s the play here? Looks contained to me, so do we leave it?”
I ducked back around the corner. “I think no. The whole point of this excursion is to ensure there’s nothing behind us as we clear forward, so we want to kill everything. That’s definitely orc work up ahead, so it was something the tribe generally did not want to deal with. I’m guessing they used some of their less-fit members to bait it in, then barricaded the door.”
“M’kay… I’ll defer to the expert here. What do you think?”
“Well, knowing is half the battle… other half being extreme violence. Since the door is shut, I think I’ll sneak over and figure out what the hell is inside. Stay here, and check-6 every once in a while.”
With that said, I left Cam there to sneak over to the door. It was quiet, so I made a proper effort to not crunch on any bones or pebbles. I reached the pile of decaying wooden furniture, crates, and rocks that had been rolled in from outside. Beyond that was an old metal door. No gaps to look through, so I listened. I couldn’t really hear anything on the other side, so I proceeded to etch a window sigil onto the door.
The scratching noise of making the sigil seemed to catch the attention of the occupant, as I heard slappy, slithery noises, and then some beastly breathing. I finished the sigil and looked through, seeing the room was illuminated with the typical magic lights. There was a big-ol’ gray cone in view, about 7-8 feet tall and it totes had some eyes. It lunged at the door and whipped several tentacles, but it was only a seethrough effect, not a passthrough. Tell that to my reflexes, which catapulted me off the barricade and back down the hall in record time. The door didn’t budge, despite the bangings. I made it to back Cam huffing and puffing.
“I know what it is… fuckin’ hell, my heart.”
He held my shoulder a moment as I panted. “You aight?”
“Yup, yeah. It’s uhh… a stalagmitatite. Member of the roper family, and one of the more aggro ones. It probably crawled up the chasm we saw earlier.” I straightened up and tapped my chin, growing a devious smile. “I’m thinkin’… dinner-bell special. Australian dinner-bell special.”
Cam let go and flipped the hand over inquisitively. “Which is?”
“A nice little spell combo that works wonders on any monster that tries to swallow you whole. Like a stalagmitatite.” I marched back around the corner. “Spell one: Backup dance. Set a single-use sigil at your feet that you teleport to if you take more than 1/4 of your health in one hit, also makes you take 0 from said hit.”
I did the little riverdance jig that sets the sigil as I continued. “Spell two: Sausage. Makes monsters want to eat you. Spell three: Explosive reaction. Next time you take damage above ‘chip’ levels, you explode for half your health and deal massive damage. You see where this is going?”
“Absolutely. But what part makes this Australian?”
I finished casting ER and dug into my bag. “Why that would be spell four: The Australian Lockpick. Components: One door that needs opening, some, uhh, magic words, one idiot, a knife, and one can of mana beer. Effects to be demonstrated right the fuck now.”
With my explanation finished, I produced said can of magic beer, set my bag and Bison down, stabbed it in the base, attached my lips to the puncture, and opened the top. The beer flowed down my gullet in a frathouse-grade maneuver as I shotgunned it in 2 seconds or less, then removed the empty can from my mouth, smashed it flat against my head, chucked it down the hallway, and flipped the door the double-bird.
“FUCK YOU, CUNTBAGS! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” I screamed in a battle cry, charging the door at max speed.
I felt the tingly goodness of the spell kicking in as I approached the door at a speed-boosted 50mph or so. When the moment arrived, I jumped off the ground. Not to drop-kick the door, but to hit the door like a ‘drop kick’ as the ozzies would say: Head. friggin. first. That steel had nothin’ on me as I barreled straight on through with a resounding BONG of the metal.
At that point, I closed my eyes and let instinct drive my opponent in the most obvious direction. Tasty thing has arrived: Eat. I was grabbed, aligned with the mouth, and shoved in whole. On any other occasion, a really bad place to be. But then I felt it close its mouth around my ankle, dealing some damage. And it wasn’t no chip damage baybeeeeeeeeee.
KABOOM!
I actually heard it from down the hall, the relocation was that quick. I saw monster giblets splatter out into the hallway. For a moment, I savored the carnage. Monster slobber literally steamed off my clothes as I brushed my messy hair back, then looked to Cam.
“Bonza!”
“Ban…zai?” he asked, confused.
I shook my head. “Bonza.”
……
We returned to the main room, a bit stinkier than we started, but satisfied with our work. I was in the middle of using my bottle of endless tide as a ‘field shower’ when Lechia returned.
“Done already, boys?”
“Mmmyup,” we answered together.
“Did you happen across the source of that divine smell? I thought a Meresean stir-fry was happening right under my nose.”
I paused mid-shower. Hmm, works on BIG bosses… noted, I mused, extremely glad I had dismissed sausage almost immediately. “We found nothing of the sort. Blame the weed for giving you the munchies.”
Madame Gossamer took a drag of her pipe, then blew a cloud. “A fair assessment, darling.” She came closer to Cam and knelt down to rest herself on the ground. “I have come to say that I have your new name, dear Cameron.”
She reached over and placed a finger under his chin. “The all-consuming Locust has returned, and in his wake follows a disciple. A tall, proud, brown bug, long in stature, but spindly, fragile. Stick Bug.”
Cam rolled his eyes. “I guess that’s me, then. What an honor.”
Lechia chuckled, raising her hand to press on his face playfully. “Ohh, such a dramatic little one. I promise to give you a new name if you are foolish enough to return to me.”
She stood back up and clapped her hands together mischievously. “Now, I am free and we are in the lurch. I believe it is time for your fitting, Stick Bug.”
“Uhhhhhhhh,” Cam started in a clear cry for help.
I was finishing my shower, having mostly listened in. A quick puff of mediocre fire magic dried me off and I hopped over as the bottle started to suck up all the water it had sprayed out to wash me.
“Yeah, so, remember how I roped you into this, Cam?”
He frowned, not-so-subtly stepping over to my side and away from Lechia. “Something about… a really good piece of gear?”
I smacked him on the back playfully. “Well guess what: When the queen of all spiders in the entire world, a super-boss of endgame proportions weaves you some long-johns from her silk, the stats end up being totally bonkers.”
Realization dawned as he turned more enthusiastic. “Oh, okay! I getcha. How’s that gonna work?”
Lechia smacked a soft measuring tape against her hand, recapturing our attention. “Simple. I’ll tie you up on a web, take your measurements, and weave it right onto you. If you manage not to scream, I might not even gag you!”
His mouth went agape as he stared her down. “Fffffffffuck that!” he blurted, attempting to bolt.
I saw what was coming and bailed in a backward spring as two of her legs shot forward and launched a silken net right at Cam. It caught him and she reeled his immobilized ass right into her arms, where she cradled him.
“PUTMEDOWNPUTMEDOWNPUTMEDO– MMPH MMM!” he mumbled as she gagged him instantly.
“Ugh, so ungrateful. Listen, Stick Bug, dear. When I agree to make something like an Imperial Undersilk, I do not do so lightly. Your choices are to either calm down and have it fit well, or struggle and force me to make mistakes.”
He wiggled a moment more, then looked to me with pleading eyes. I trotted back over and tried to give off a chill vibe. “It’s a bit freaky, but look:” I pulled up my sleeve, revealing the pale-white long-johns underneath. “I swear to you: It. is. worth it.”
“Mmmrmm, mmm!”
……
“Look, Cam, down here, eyes on me. I need you to breathe. In, out, in, out. I know I’ve hyped Lechia up as the biggest, baddest, most dangerous villain out there. But there is an exception to that, and that’s when she is doing arts and crafts. You’re going to be fine.”
He stared daggers at me from where he hung, suspended 15 feet in the air on a large and well-built spider web (and stripped to his undies). “Mmn, hmmk hmm. Mhm gmmh hmmp mrr mmph.”
Lechia—who was standing on her hind legs and taking his measurements onto a pad of paper—gave him a smirk. “Such fiery words, Stick Bug. Try not to jostle so much.”
After a little more instinctive struggling, he relaxed slightly and looked at me with pleading eyes. “Hmm, mmn, m gmm mm hmm hmmp.”
“Okay, I actually didn’t get that one. Could you un-gag him for a moment, please?”
Madame Gossamer snapped the measuring tape around her wrist dramatically. “Fine,” she conceded in an exasperated tone. “I will allow yet another interruption to my flow, my muse. Make it quick.” She reached for the gag, muttering: “One curse and this goes right back on.”
The silk slid off his mouth and he took a deep breath at the same time as he cringed. “Th- th- that potion, get me a dose, p- p- please. ‘S in my pack.”
She instantly replaced the gag and waved me off. “Run off quickly then, Locust. I’ll be in my groove soon, and I will lock the door until my work is done.”
I decided to take both of them seriously, for his sake. It would be a crappy hour for sure, so if I could make it a little better it was worth it. My assholery was supposed to extend only to withholding information for dramatic timing, not withholding brave juice for when the main villains’ nightmare fuel is sizing you up. I ran off back toward the central room and out the front door. Pyroshir was standing over the corpse of some larger critter and Parsnip seemed flustered.
“Something happen?” I asked as I climbed on the carriage to dig through Cam’s backpack.
“Yeah, sum’n happened. I was tryin’ out grazin’ for kicks when I heard homegirl scream. Then I remembered you was hella irresponsible and left her tied up, so I ran back to defend her and mofucka right there was already dead!”
I looked over my shoulder. “Yeah… I planned for that. She’s got a blessing that buffs her self-defending attacks off the charts. Don’t worry about her.”
“Coulda told me, dawg. Nice to know the lady can save herself though.”
I found a vial of the golden potion and checked the label. “Whoaaaaa, can’t let her see that,” I blurted as I ripped it off, knowing the sadism it could lead to if Lechia found out.
“Come again, Homie? Summin ‘bout that walkin’ restraining order factory?”
“Ignore that,” I answered as I hopped down. “Say, she’ll be safe no matter what, so I’ll let you show Parsnip around.” I used a little magic to undo the barding, leaving only the lead. “You can bring her back if she goes too far, and she won’t run as fast or far as you can. Normal horse and all. Be back by dark.”
He shook his mane and kicked the ground with pride. “Aw hell yeah, Homie! I got me a date!”
……
“One more spasm like that, and I will make the crotch one size too small,” Lechia’s voice echoed down the hallway.
I jogged back in a few seconds later and held up the vial. “I got the juice!”
She swirled her wrist. “Very well. Give it to him and begone from my presence.”
I immediately cast disjoint again and zipped the uncorked vial right to his lips, tilting it into his mouth and letting him drink. Once it was empty, I took the bottle away and was unceremoniously shoved out of the room whilst wishing Cam good luck.
“Get back to it! Any more slacking-off and I will deduct it from your payment,” Lechia barked as she slammed the door behind me.
I shook my head, then, I got back to it. I went to the carriage to load another 5 magazines, then set off for the depths of the dungeon… ‘s first floor.
……
A moderate perk of working for Lechia is that she can impart some buffs to you, if she attunes to you as your boss. You essentially get to hook into her naturally-occuring field of raw power and enjoy a few benefits. The one I was leaning on being ‘spidey sense’. (She didn’t name it that, on the contrary, it was forced on her by basically every GC in existence to the point she adopted it just to shut them up.) Downside is, you have to focus to use it, so it’s not a passive perk.
Anyhoo, it’s precise enough for her to detect exact locations of nearby enemies within 100 feet, and general areas of mobs within a mile or seven. I was getting it a little more fuzzily, so all I knew was that a problem-sized gathering of orcs was on the other side of the bridge, with only a flimsy wall of near-indestructible silk webbing between us. (Oh, gods, the suspense!)
Rather than deal with them directly, I was actually feeling rather lazy. In fact, I was calling up an old… acquaintance on the stones.
“Hello? … Yes, Dennis. … Yup, that one. … I was wondering if I could get a starbomb. … Immediate use, yes. … Umm, I think it was a little over a year ago? You said every-other quarter, so I think that flies, no? … Cool. … Yeah it’s a legitimate target. 15-20 orcs. … I’ll designate, but can you make it a low-yield? It’s a confined space. … Wonderful. Call ya back in six-to-nine months.”
The operator of the Skull Marsh Facility hung up right after a little spell moved through the stone line, attaching a green light to my finger. I looked at the wall of web across the bridge and pointed proudly. The light shot off my finger, passed through the web, and then I fucking booked it in the opposite direction. Through skies and depths, rock and stone, I heard the unmistakable howl of fae artillery incoming. A sound that penetrates through all like it is simply air.
sssssssssSSSSHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEE D-DOOOOOM
The explosion rocked the dungeon, causing some dust to fall from the ceiling. The pressure wave traveled down the hall, though most of it had dissipated in the chasm, as I’d intended. Gotta love a ‘low yield’ warhead. Right then, I felt Lechia’s psychic presence crawl into my brain.
“Did you just starbomb my facility?”
“I… starbombed some orcs IN your facility…”
“… I’ll deduct any repairs that entails. Carry on.”
And like the click of an old phone, she left my head and I pressed the attack. Or, I was about to. Then I remembered that I had some new tech to test out, so I dug the massive honker of a metal basketball plus the glove and proceeded down the hall.
……
What… fun! I normally don’t take too much pleasure in killing stuff with above room-temperature IQ, (not to imply flunky IQ was much warmer than that) but the UFO drone thingy made it a blast. With their big charge completely deleted, the flunkies were scattering like roaches, which is scientifically proven to be the best way to ensure the continuation of the local orc population… assuming they were in the great outdoors.
5 imaginary dollars to anyone who points out that we weren’t.
In a confined dungeon, it just spread them out to a few per room. And the only ones with brains were the ones who were ready to mount a defense before I… nuked them from orbit (it’s the only way to be sure). Gone was the methodical room-clearing, not that I really needed it in the first place; it was mainly to train Cam on good habits after all. Instead, I was bouncing into a room with a sustainable amount of mana expenditure, then zapping anything that screamed in a vaguely coherent manner. First 4 opponents sent to horny jail, I would then shoot whatever was left, which happened all of twice.
With the room clear, all I had to do was zap the foes out single-file and put a bolt in each one as I released them. That part was a little less fun, distasteful, even, but it certainly tickled my well-buried god complex. I lost track of time clearing rooms. It all went so fast with 100% of the traps removed by the last owner; I just had to move and shoot! Before I knew it, an hour and change had passed and I’d cleared most of the floor. There were 2 rooms left when Lechia psychically pinged me.
“Finished! Come see how my little Stick Bug looks. He’s so cute when he pouts in misery!”
“Yeah, be there in a few.”
I thought whether to clear the last 2 rooms before the stairs, but instead I went and got the wall of silk that had been blown off the doorframe by the artillery. A little bit of silkbending later and I had it… uh… attached to the hallway frame in a manner that I strongly believed would keep monsters on the other side… but would not guarantee in any binding manner.
As I crossed the bridge, I remembered a few orcs I had forgotten in the drone, so I pointed at the wall over the infinite drop into the abyss and zapped one out.
ZAP "AAAAAAA (one mississippi) AAAAAAAAA (two mississippi) AAAAAAAAA (three mississippi) AAAAAAAAAAA–"
FFW >>
(eleven mississippi) AAAAAAAAA (twel–) SPLOOSH.
Twelve second fall, and into an underground river, neat! ZAP, ZAP, ZAP "AAAAAAAA–"
……
I arrived in the main room, UFO back in the bag since, well, not gonna show it off to a superboss. There Cam was, sitting against the wall with a big frown on his lips. Probably the same frown he had under the gag earlier, but that was gone so… yay?
“Hey, how’d it go?”
Cam shot me a glare. “Would’ve gone better if you had warned me in advance.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, appearing a bit nauseous. “I think I went a little over the recommended dose of that potion.”
I joined him at the wall, leaning rather than sitting. “I’ll concede coulda and shoulda, but not woulda. How’s the fit?”
He pulled back a sleeve, revealing the snowy-white silk. “Feels nice, I guess. Pretty soft. What’s so good about it, though? Stat card won’t tell me anything.”
“Oh, yeah, almost forgot: That’s a legendary item. Normally, you have to identify it, but since I’ve already done that for mine, we can just tap cards to copy my identification over.”
“Huh, okay…” he responded with a quirked eyebrow. We tapped cards and he squinted. “Oh holy shit, percentages? This is going to be good forever!”
He wasn’t wrong, I knew the stats by heart and endeavoured to get every GC employee of Golden Point their own ‘Imperial Undersilks’ at some point or another. I even tried to get her to agree for some of my Nassur native employees… buuut she said any Nassuri person that ends on her web is a hostage… or dinner.
Oh, right the stats.
Imperial Undersilk
* +25 Defense
* 66% Damage Reduction vs Venom, Poison, and Toxins (excluding empress' venom)
* 50% Damage Reduction vs Heat and Cold Damage
* 25% Damage Reduction vs All Other Damage Types
* Halves effects of extreme ambient temperature
* Can be worn under all clothes and armors, stats will stack
* Self-repairing, self-cleaning, automatic resizing to user
* Soulbound (greater) to user: Cameron Jones (serial no. 36876352)
* Will strangle the wearer to death in their sleep if they are not Cameron Jones
Aaand with that small foray into literary RPG done, back to our regularly scheduled programming. (Never again, I am disgusted.)
“Damn, it even has air conditioning?” Camron spouted in amused disbelief.
“Yeah, feels great! That’s the best thing I’ll ever get for you, so you treasure it, man.”
After a moment, Cam stood up and hugged me. “Okay, you were right. These undies are worth way more than the therapy I’ll need.”
I patted him on the back and we separated. “Waddya mean? All the churches offer free mental health services to GCs.” He made the ‘:o’ face again as I looked around the room. “Anyway, where’s Lechia?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, uhh… she said it was ‘about that time’ and ran off after dumping me here. Do you know what that’s about?”
I pursed my lips. “Uhh, that’s the last dramatic reveal.” We locked eyes for a moment. “Tell me, what do you think she wanted to do with all those orc bodies?”
His frown returned in force. “I was thoroughly intent on not asking, but here we are. Did she eat them?”
“Nnnope. Close, but they weren’t her snack.”
He thought for a moment. “I don’t follow.”
“Aww, c’mon Caaaam, you’re a smart guy. Lemme hit you with a different angle. I told you about the silkbending of that vambrace because I knew you would need to use it today. But that’s not the only feature…”
He looked down for a moment. “The other feature being… controlling spiders… which I’ll need to use today?”
I didn’t answer right away. Instead, a sound had caught my ear: Skittering. Not from one creature. No, so much skittering that it sounded like heavy rain, slowly rising in intensity as a swarm of certain guessable somethings drew near. Cam heard it too, and took note of me very conspicuously starting up the thrum on my araneous brace. He then immediately scrambled to get his own brace reequipped in a panic.
“Welcome to the big leagues, kiddo. You just got promoted to a henchman with minions.”