Chapter 35: Stupid Joke Hour

Outside of Azwold’s tavern, we gathered to take stock of our situation. DarkNeon yawned and stretched her arms wide up to the dull, silvery cloud cover. The slow sweep of luminous tatters revealed the moon waning toward a crescent.

Enraptured as I was with Azwold’s reformation, I neglected to notice when the Queen of Bees flew away. There was a weight in my chest, and not just because it enclosed an entire [Hive Scepter] and bustling bee colony. My indebtedness to the Queen had grown, and I doubted my gratitude would be payment enough.

Relja was sitting in Fizzu’s saddle, but her shoulders sagged, arms wrapped around the mesa strider’s neck.

“I regret to inform the party that I must go offline,” said Vick5. “My human form requires a recharge.”

“You said some magic words,” said DarkNeon. “If robo-boy can admit the agony of sleep defeat, then I’m gonna sheeple my butt off to the pasture too.”

“Is it... pasture bed time?” said Relja, giggling.

“The ladies have entered Stupid Joke Hour, looks like,” said Azwold. “Well, for once in my life I don’t feel sleep deprived. The temptation to log on steals sleep away sometimes, I know. Turns out the Spirit Realm gets a little old. I was offline enough to catch up. Anyway, you’re logging off?”

Relja yawned so loudly that Fizzu mimicked her with a squawk. “Yeah, I think I kinda have to.”

“Same,” said DarkNeon. “Where will you go while we’re gone?”

“I have no idea where to look for Ralos,” said Azwold. “I don’t know I’d want to find him, even if I could. So I’m leaning toward continuing the epic questline.”

I straightened up at the mention, encouraged to have Azwold’s determination back. I was as keen as he to make progress no matter how difficult memory reacquisition was.

“Hey,” DarkNeon pointed foggily at Vick5, “didn’t you say you need to be a real life genius to even try learning stuff from the Mind Magic school?”

Vick5 was quiet. His idle animation was in control, but he perked up. “Affirmative.”

Azwold snorted. “Well, Ralos is out then. There goes your theory about the Troika.”

“Hypothesis, not theory,” said Vick5. “Additionally, I do not agree with your dismissal. Genius notoriously defies clear definition.”

“He ain’t wrong,” Relja slurred. “Okay, I’m gonna be the first one to wimp out. Goodnight guys. Wherever you are when I get back, there I’ll be. Good stuff.”

[Relja has logged off]

“Yup,” said DarkNeon. “Me too. Where’s the next step of your quest? Just soz I know.”

“A place called Hourglass Sandfall,” said Azwold. “Never been there, so should be exciting. I was only offline a few days but I’m hungry to dive back in.”

“I know what you mean,” she said. “Toons fit like a glove after a while. You kinda slide back into a comfy chair, hands just so and ready to pwn n00bz. It’s a whole mood. Alright, man. I hate to go, but I gotta. Nite.”

[DarkNeon has logged off]

“Be vigilant and careful,” said Vick5. “Telemoon is 100% certain to anticipate your Hourglass Sandfall destination. It is advisable to delay direct confrontations until the entirety of our party is online and prepared.”

“I agree,” I said. “Eager as I am to collect another bone, I have dispelled all misgivings about Telemoon. Their danger is limitless.”

Azwold nodded. “We’ll make our way there.” He grew grim. “Ursamigo has offered the support of Beast Budz. His officers are somewhat in the loop about what’s going on. But we aren’t sure whether keeping this all a secret is the best move, especially from those we trust. If most guilds knew what was at stake here, I think they’d want in on it. I’m torn.”

“You’ve had a mind toward subterfuge since the beginning,” I said. “Adamant that keeping me a secret was paramount.”

“And I still think that, but...”

“But you doubt we can take on Telemoon alone?”

“I will run probability simulations while offline to recharge,” said Vick5. “Utilize your high Wisdom statistic; do not allow Telemoon to engage you alone. Also, before the information fades from memory; I discovered a glyph on the Robot Prototype’s neck. Similar to its arm glyph, but different lines and blue instead of yellow.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Good to know,” said Azwold. “Wish it helped.”

Vick5’s gears twisted his arms up into a shrug, and then his frame deconstructed itself. Wiry, glowing lines traced themselves around him in the air.

[Vick5 has logged off]

Azwold held out a hand. “Keys please.”

I obtained the [Gremlin Signal] from my inventory and handed it to the mage.

“I was asked to relay a message,” I said. “Berem and Medett wish to consult you about a gadget, something to allow a bigger wandering radius. Like the scepter ring, or [Helm Wheel].” I tapped the wheel lodged behind my skull, wondering if I needed it anymore. The [Hive Scepter] as part of me meant I had obtained truer freedom.

Azwold rubbed his chin stubble. “Hmmm. An intriguing idea.”

To set my mind at ease, I asked; “Am I autonomous now? Or can you still control my actions?”

“Let’s see,” he said, then pointed harshly in a direction, staring at me. Then he let his hand fall. “Looks like you’re in control.”

Azwold was not above trickery that he deemed harmless, but his attempt to command me seemed genuine.

I inspected my inventory. Azwold’s items were gone, and all I had was Medett’s [Barkskin*Potion], Relja’s [Potion of Spell: Levitate], my equipped gear, and [Purple Lint].

I opened my spell list. They were back to my normal skeletal minion selection. Somewhat relieved by the comprehensibility of it, I understood what DarkNeon meant about fitting in to one’s character.

“How can I change my skill points?” I asked.

“You need to re-spec?”

“Trojainous chose my spells for me and I am displeased with several selections.”

“I imagine you’ll have to talk with Grandfather for that,” he said. “But Ursamigo is busy offline trying to decode whatever corruption Ralos worked on the NPC. It wasn’t looking too good.”

“Drats,” I said. “I shall make do, I suppose.”

Azwold had his black tablet out and was sliding a finger around on its screen. “So, Hourglass Sandfall is on the western side of the Nevahjian Desert. Opposite side and a couple hundred miles away from Alkali Hollow. Aaand I don’t know the best way to get there.”

“We could charter a balloon in Soleus City?” I said.

“Well, well. Somebody’s become quite worldly, hasn’t he?”

“We are going to Cloud River Canyon to see the siblings?” I said. “Let us go to the balloon master afterward.”

“Alright,” he said. “We’ll do your plan this time.”

“Bayou Bunker?” I said.

“Bayou Bunker,” he said.

~<>*<>*<>~

It felt good to be riding in the Gremlin with the Mage at the helm. I marveled at the contrast between my earliest passenger experience versus now. Instead of nerve-wracking, it was more freeing; despite bleak swampland for scenery, this zone was home to me, so drinking in the view came easy.

A trio of crickets sung on a briny breeze, heralding our arrival at the flightpath. No players were near, only the Bat Master NPC called Fred “The Frog” Woggins. He stood next to the rusty roost poles, fidgeting in an idle animation, snatching insects from the air with a slimy string, then tossing them up to the upside-down bats.

I was striding up to the NPC unworried when I caught flashes of light in my peripheral vision. A displeased sounding bleep silenced the chirping of crickets in the vicinity. It was Azwold’s NPC scanning device.

I halted my tracks, anticipating a “false alarm” report. It did not come. Instead, the mage held up his palm in warning, ushering me back to him.

But he could not force me back. Free will was lovely, but having a player to drive me away from danger when my mind was on auto-pilot was a nice safeguard. I crept backward, tip-toeing.

Not for the first time, I envied my allies’ ability to log out of the game whenever they wanted to. Azwold had only un-summoned the Gremlin minutes ago, but he re-summoned it as I approached him.

“Did you come this way before?” he whispered.

“I did.”

“How long ago?”

“Is there something amiss with the NPC?” I asked.

“How long?”

“Prior to arriving at your tavern,” I said. “It is the nearest travel hub, clearly.”

He ran the flashing laser of his device over the rest of the outpost, lingering a moment on the bunker. It was not much more than a mud-encrusted lean-to. His tablet registered a reading and his expression shifted.

“We can’t fly outta here,” he said. “Get in the car.”

“Halt,” came a gruff, commanding voice. Fred “The Frog” Woggins had turned in our direction, pointing his fly-catching slime stick at us.

“Yeah, no,” said Azwold, starting the Gremlin up and revving steam from its silvery tailpipes.

The “Bunker” exploded upward in a rain of sticks and dried mud flakes. A small surveillance squad decked in midnight blues burst out, rocketing toward our position.

Azwold peeled out, pelting dark dirt and gravel in their direction. Several muddy fishtail turns and bone-jarring bumps later and the tires were gripping pavement again.

“Where will we go?” I said. “We cannot outrun them, can we?”

“We’re gonna try,” he said. “Looks like flying is gonna be harder than we thought.”

“Where can we go?” I asked again.

“I’m thinking...” he stared out the windshield, forehead creased. “Maybe...” he started, then, “no.”

“What about,” I said, then realized my suggestion would not work either.

“There’s always…” he took a breath, then let it out. “Mmm, no.”

I peered through the back hatch glass. Our pursuers were on the road now too. A raised truck, much like the blue-black trucks we found on Stonesthrow Island, and a dune buggy type vehicle, like Vick5’s but also dark blue. I could not see how many Telemoon occupied the vehicles, but I could tell that they were not falling behind. They were gaining.

“Quick, open up the map,” said Azwold, a bead of sweat rolling down his brow.

“Right,” I said, displaying the tablet on the dashboard.

“If we don’t pick something good, right now... our adventure may come to an abrupt close.”

“Dreen is too far, is it not?”

“Too far. Literally nowhere is close enough by ground.”

“Acrophos Stair?”

His frown deepened and the sweat drop dipped off. He glanced in the rearview mirror, then back to the road, as if making unsavory mental calculations.

“Well?” I said.

“Well, you ever wonder what all these buttons were for?” he gestured to the array of knobs and gauges littering the control panels adjacent the replacement [Helm Wheel].

He pushed a trio of metal switches down and a gauge blinked red-orange. He glanced at me with a thin grin and pressed a button.

I heard a whoosh and a crackle from the rear of the vehicle. Looking back, I saw a pair of little missiles eject from a hidden exterior compartment. They whizzed through the air, spiraled, then blasted out a pair of craters several car-lengths ahead of our Telemoon trackers. Asphalt and sandy mud blew up like murky water in a boulder-tossed pond, and in the wake, I could not see whether the vehicles had fallen in.

I had hope, but I knew they would not be thwarted so easily. When both vehicles appeared on the road after the dirt blast settled, I looked to the mage.

“What do the rest of those buttons do?”

His grin grew a sliver wider.