“Material Facsimiles,” Quille Treten said.

“Material Facsimiles,” agreed Dennet.

“Material Facsimiles?” Sindze asked.

“Material Facsimiles!” Ulrik yelled.

Vinnette Melban, for her part, was level 91 and humming. Cap lifted, gear mostly level 50 and stage four Warp Enhanced, full Fortification, skills level 1 but ignore that. Herbs, Bandages, Pills, Syringes, and Scalpels were hard to come by outside of the dailies.

“Haven't been through Chapter 1 myself. Seems Cadmos got himself in a bit of a pickle, eh?” Quille Treten raised his shield out of the water and dried it with a Mended Cloth.

“Submarine problems,” Ulrik explained.

“Hm, I see. Nothing for it, then.” He ran a Shark through and splashed off to the next while Dennet and Sindze U. Radalo harassed the first Whale. Mayhem and battle ensued, followed by an island vacation.

“This must be a premier tourist spot, top ten at least, but there's never been a summer event here,” Dennet said.

“We will make it another year, won't we? It has a chance next time. Not that there's any shortage of beachfront property in the world,” Sindze said, emptying her boots on the sand. “And by that summer we'll be in Part Three I'm sure, so we might end up having it in the country of that merchant Cadmos met after they were both shipwrecked by Rayu Indann's experimental submarine that Alben showed him how to build, Azlav Als Iluness or whoever. We might have to settle for a non-seasonal event here if we want to find out more about the political situation after Rayu Indann died on that submarine. I mean, who became king of Eksaph? It's the largest island in the Goathorn Archipelago, after all, so I'm sure everyone's dying to know. Ow! Who did that?”

The other four pointed at the horrible pink creature that had popped out of the verdant ground, yanked its own head off, and thrown it at Sindze. “Gromlins. Ugh. Barbed Arrow!” The contest of heads and arrows began. Parties of Gromlins emerged from the land while Whales rolling their cartoon eyes and jaw-snapping Sharks came from the sea, and as for the sky, the clouds were white and fluffy and nice.

While Ulrik could neither use a bow nor snatch his own head off, he found a substitute. “Take this! Gromlin Throw!” he yelled, and hurled a pineapple.

“Hey, that really does look like you,” Dennet said. “It has spiky hair and everything.”

“My Halloween plans are settled. Princess Melban, please don't waste cooldowns on the pineapple. It's not my real head.”

“So lifelike . . .”

“What are you going as this year, Sindze? Robin Hood? Ouch! Forget I asked. Hey, does any fruit look like me?”

“Lemon.”

“Any of those around? Doesn't look like it. Guess I'll just shoot back. That's pretty weak though.”

Ulrik shook his head in commiseration, caught a Gromlin head, and threw the Inferno projectile at the Quake Whale.

“Very stylish and all, but have you considered, Ulrik, my little pineapple, that you're already an Inferno? That doesn't help!”

“Sindze! I can but show the way. The rest is up to you.”

“No thanks!”

“I'll do it!” Vinnette Melban picked up a Gromlin head and lobbed it at the Whale.

“A new legend is created. Good start, Princess Melban. Keep your eyes open when you throw. Try it with this one.”

“Teehee.”

The aspirationals fought their way inland, which ought to have reduced the number of Sharks and Whales they encountered but did not. What did was entering a village with small wooden houses, a path made out of planks placed over the ground, and a kid playing with a rabbit.

“Harrumph. Should be a monkey,” Quille said.

“Or a goat. Where are all these goat horns I was told to expect?”

“The archipelago curves like goat horns, you dummy. Why assume everybody else names things wrong instead of thinking there might be a reason for it? I've never once questioned why you Doveskans don't wear hats or carry umbrellas when it rains all the time.”

Dennet put a hand on his head. “I'm questioning it right now. Shouldn't I have a hood at least? Ulrik, we've been hard done by.”

“Every day reminds me of that.”

“When you get right down to it, not many officers have hats,” Quille Treten said. “Not the style these days.”

“Um, Georgia Anne Cooper, Dasher Christmas, Domingo and Manyana, Adigail Zem, all the gangsters . . .”

“Hardly any. Thank you for counting, Sindze.”

“Formal Figro, both Wakves, Nixa N. Dorenz has a costume, Tendradius Pux, Clazdius Oranio . . .”

“Yes, yes. Practically none. No need to list them all.”

“Theena. Both Theenas,” Vinnette added.

“I think Beryllia Ven used to, but not the alt she's using these days,” Dennet said.

Ulrik looked up from his fingers. “More hats than Rares.”

“Watch out! A Gromlin! Pierce and Bash! What were we talking about? Something frivolous, no doubt. Oh, is that the boss?”

“No.”

“Then what are we waiting for? To the boss!”

The boss did not appear to rescue Quille Treten from his embarrassment, but some Eksaphite Soldiers heard the Awkwardness Alarm and came running to investigate. They tried to break up any ongoing conversations with their pikes and defended themselves with tall shields in order to guard against escalation. No armor, though. It was hot there.

Those tanned champions of Eksaph had Champion-like stats as far as critical chance, which gave them unpredictable burst damage unfriendly to Vinnette Melban's Skill Star. Dennet innovated in the field of survival by running away after he got crit, and the other Rares emulated his example when the time came, no matter how many times they yelled at Quille to stay up front and Taunt or something.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“Selfless Redirect works from back here,” he insisted. “Raging Shelter! Thirty percent of damage to Dennet is redirected to me now. What did I tell you? I know my business.”

“Yeah, well, you could do damage too, you know. These Soldiers are. Why can't you be more like them? Quille? Pet? Poopy bear?”

“Solemn Declaration and Jonathan Brightwater in the same officer sounds overpowered to me,” Dennet said.

“Precisely so. I'm more of a Solemn Declaration myself.”

“Oh? Does Solemn Declaration hide in the back? I've never heard any rumors to that effect, not that I listen to rumors as a rule.”

“Wouldn't be the least bit surprised. He is a centaur.”

Just then the officers thought they heard a faint whinny, but ascribed it to their imaginations. They battled their way through the village to another island which Sindze suggested might have been conquered by Eksaph and served as the staging facility for Rayu Indann's submarine.

“Wait, hold on. Why does he have a last name? Andit and Liya are from here, and they only go by one.”

“Good point. How can I kill these Eksaphite Sailors without knowing that?” Ulrik dispatched another of the girls with sailor suits and guns that assailed them in that section. She dropped a Common Eksaphite Sailor, the one true rival of the Crocodile Launcher for attention within that rarity.

“Easily. These are Infernos, not like those Floods with the pikes. Pierce and Bash!”

“Ignore those two meatheads, Dennet. It seems like maybe Indann is a title? I mean, the king of the gods is the Highest Tann, not to mention the gods are sometimes called Lusin Tanna and Haybren Tann and so on, right? And before Perandra Imperia, Tanns ruled the old countries, so Indann is probably like under-king or duke or something.”

“I get it, so his name is just Rayu.” Dennet considered the matter. “I like playing Ken more.”

“Dennet. You use your own name for the main character in RPGs. Am I correct?”

“Yeah, of course I do. What of it?”

“Nothing. I name them all 'old buddy.' It makes the dialogue friendlier! Flames of Dovesk! But be honest. S***** F******? Your kind plays B*******.”

“Nah, I prefer A***** H****.”

“Learning things about one another today, aren't we?” Quille stroked his beard. “Don't understand a word of it though.”

“To put it in Christmas terms: everyone else wants an SNES. This guy asks Santa for a CD-i.”

“Esoteric tastes you have there, young Dennet.”

“You're going to have weird tastes if you have any taste at all.” Dennet shrugged. “Or you can just follow tier lists and sales charts your whole life.”

“The tier list I follow says Ulrik is SSS. Or something.”

“Where'd you find that list, Sindze?”

“Uh huh. You know I didn't say that.”

“Sounded like you, young Sindze.”

Unable to tell whether Quille meant it or not, Sindze gave up and killed Eksaphite Sailors in silence, or as much silence as Harassers did anything. “Uh! Barbed Arrow! Eh! Yo!” That sort of thing.

The attackers reached a harbor from which all the forces of Eksaph tried to repel them, but even the world's sickest tans could not deflect their bolts and swords. They advanced along a pier past small boats and canoes to a conspicuous submarine wrought of black adamant unlike the everyday sort of submarine and hopped on to enter the last section of Part 2 Chapter 2. Waves of Sailors swarmed over the deck, and Ulrik discovered that tossing them into the drink did not dispose of them.

“Ulrik, cupcake, my little candy corn, you do remember you have a sword, don't you? And how to swing it?”

“I swing for the fences. Every time! To say something in defense of my reasoning, they are Infernos.”

“Yeah, I gotta admit, it would make sense for them to dissolve if they ever hit water,” Dennet said.

“Does it, refresh my memory here, or does it not rain nonstop in Dovesk?”

“It does, but I don't see the relevance.”

“Ugh! Vinnette, you talk to them.”

“It's fine . . .” A caduceus whacked a Sailor in the back and sent her tumbling into the sea. “Everything's fine, Sindze . . .”

“Ho ho ho! She told you, young archer,” Quille Treten said. “Have some of this!” He poked a Sailor climbing up the submarine's side, preferring victory to honor. Victory was assured anyway though, so perhaps he just hated honor.

The Rares swept the decks in the most unclean sense possible and entered the submarine. A different sort of crew from the Eksaphite Sailors ran things down there, consisting of the sort of salty dog that could pop its own head off and throw it at intruders.

“This journey has taught me countless things. About myself. About the world. A bunch of stuff about you idiots that I hope to forget. Based on all that, here is my guess: these weren't here in Story mode.”

Sindze clapped, and Ulrik bowed in acceptance of her praise and to dodge a head that hit her instead. The Gromlins demanded attention. Dennet's attention was gladly given to any and all Infernos, and he spread the dreadful influence of the tomb through the submarine's insides by means of crossbow bolts bearing the power of a Mummy Dagger.

Scowling heads flew from and toward every side. Vinnette Melban climbed back up the ladder and applied her Regens from there to avoid the bullet hell going on and was followed by Sindze, but that used up all the vertical room. The other three had to stand there and take it.

After a few rounds of that, the new captain, Rayu Indann's replacement, showed up. An unsightly belly! Horrible pink skin! A sailor hat on a detached head! Captain Gromlin had arrived. He brought a bunch of HP bars and a little star, too, as befitting a gentleman of the sea.

All those Infernos in a confined space raised the temperature, and perhaps that was what activated Ulrik's steam-powered brain. “Quille. Taunt the boss and catch his head. Give it to me.”

“Might as well, I suppose. Pierce and Bash! Eyes on me, you salty little disgrace. Oof! Got it!”

Ulrik took possession of the item, walked over to the ladder, and handed it up. “Hand that to Princess Melban. Please. Good. Princess Melban, chuck that bioweapon out of here.”

Captain Gromlin started running around like a Gromlin with its head stolen and thrown into the thirsty sea. Its hands waved, its knees lifted high in admirable sprinting form, and nevermore did it attack aside from bumping into its tormentors now and then by happenstance. The Rares cleared out the crew, though more rushed in every time one of the boss's bars came off, and began bullying the Captain like inconsiderate VIPs on a cruise, but much worse because of all the weaponry.

“Watch out, he's about to Nova,” Dennet warned.

Ulrik said, “Doubt it,” and he was right. A Gromlin without its head could be compared only to a star without hydrogen. Lifebars came and went, but the star stayed where it was, glowing and impotent.

“Should we feel bad about this?” Dennet planted another bolt in the boss. “I don't, so I was just wondering how far gone I am.”

“You can go ahead and feel bad if you want, but I'm going to wait until we find out that the loot shows up where the head is.”

“Sindze, don't say such things. They're bad for my heart.”

“Well I am sorry, but you have to admit the possibility, don't you? Quille? Dooooooon't you?”

“No.”

“Speaking of things thrown out of submarines and how smart I am. I had a vision just now. The boss dies. A Material Facsimile appears. We fight over it, and then? It falls into the water.” Ulrik punted Captain Gromlin for emphasis. “Decide who gets it now! I suggest reverse-alphabetical order.”

“Alphabetical makes more sense,” Dennet said.

“No way, because Vinnette's 92 already.” Sindze pointed up the ladder.

“Sure am!”

“That means we're going ladies first, and if there's any reason not to stick with that, I can't imagine what it could be.”

“I can. Our new slogan is HDM: Harassers Don't Matter. Reginald is absent. That leaves me. HDM QED.”

“What am I, then?”

“Oh, Quille.” Ulrik placed a hand on Quille Treten's shoulder and patted it. “Quille, Quille, Quille.”

“Well, I'm convinced,” Dennet said. “I haven't made up my mind about that HDM thing yet, though. Shouldn't it stand for Harassers Dynamite!!: The Motion Picture?”

That argument carried the day. The two Harassers then competed against each other in the latest sport, which involved kicking Captain Gromlin as hard as they could and measuring how high he jumped. Each was allotted three heats. Sindze won, guaranteeing her the next Material Facsimile, while Dennet had to content himself with the second-place prize of a ticket to the premier of Harassers Dynamite!!: The Motion Picture.

While Ulrik and Quille consulted each other over whether they should pray to Haybren for a drop or not, unsure whether to prefer misfortune for a filthy Storm or their own turns coming faster, Captain Gromlin's twenty-fifth and last health bar fell shredded to the floor.

“Eek!” Sindze slid down the ladder and clasped the Common Material Facsimile to her green dress. Her comrades watched in silence, for the first time seeing Sindze U. Radalo cry, except for that time she stubbed her toe, or when she overslept and missed the season one finale of Slaughter Pandora, or at the start of every new event when she was assigned zero lines.

Leaving that aside, all five came to the same inevitable conclusion. “Let's farm this guy, since he's so easy,” Dennet said.