Ch: 153 In Just Seven Days…

Becky and Shai kept him cut off from his own gifts, by tangling up everything he tried to pull off. Becky co-opted his songbirds and crickets, while Shai kept shaking her groove thing to rejuvenate and refresh the hunters.

Otho the dog joined the game, sniffing Gary out wherever he hid and bringing the hunters, with their pillowed weapons to batter him about until he was too exhausted to move.

With only his armor and a single mundane bamboo staff, his doom was a forgone conclusion. Tallum carried him out, as limp as an old rag and poured him out of his armor, into the bath to soak.

They stood over their sleeping, battered prey contemplating their work in the early evening. “That was rough… he’s getting better.” Tallum muttered, rubbing his sore shoulders. That blanket wrapped club was poorly balanced, not like Dannyl’s practice weapon. The wooden chain whip faithfully duplicated the moves and effects of the original, while being ‘nerfed’ according to Gary.

Tallum never wanted to be anywhere on the other side of the real thing when Dannyl let loose. It was the stuff of nightmares when that thing hit flesh.

Wrath Unbound, Contract Item: Enchanted whip, enchanted tool, spiritual, etheric enchantment. Rank, iron plus. Quality, Legendary. Elemental affinities, none. Bound to a living soul. Consult owner before attempting access.

Effect:Targets may suffer afflictions and conditions, depending on circumstances: Bleeding, rent asunder, crippled, lamed, terrified, wounded, demoralized, pain averse, excruciated, dismembered. Base chance per affliction or condition, ten percent, scaled against: Rank, Will, Agility, Animus, Might and Resilience.

Effect: unpredictable strikes, weapon is unconventional and flexible, defense penalties apply in most cases.

Effect Soul Contract: Wielder cannot be targeted or struck by weapon. Weapon cannot be used by others without express and free consent of owner. If taken or separated from owner, unpredictable events may result.

Anything struck by the thing that could bleed, did. If it had limbs that could possibly be severed… they were not going to remain unsevered long. Even armored exoskeletons and fleshless boney forms suffered horribly in its chewing, grinding embrace.

The severely restricted and blunted wooden training model was terrifying enough. It would wrap over or around weapons and shields, in sly and surprising ways. It could skitter across armored bodies until it found a gap, before starting to dig in. Rolf learned that the hard way sparring with Dannyl.

The young knight got a pretty severe wedgie when the whip wrapped around his armored thigh. When it climbed like a live and hungry thing, right for his tenders, he couldn’t tap out fast enough.

Literally, the final olive wood link had wriggled perilously close to forbidden territory before Dannyl realized he’d won the match.

Now when he traveled armed in strange towns, he carried his training weapon, Chain Of Fools, for safety's sake. It wouldn’t paint the town red, if something got out of hand.

Poor Gary was a wreck, battered and bruised from the punishing afternoon. His armor had been a very tough nut to crack with padded weapons.

“Think that was enough?” Tallum asked, hugging Ivy close to his hip.

“Nope.” Becky called from the back. “He’s gonna wake up ravenous and cranky, at some terrible early hour and get the rest of the way in the workshop. He can’t rank up with just martial skills and sparring matches. He’s like you Tallum, a craftsman and creative soul… in a warrior’s disguise.” She swatted the big man and tugged on his sash. “Come on, it’s dinner time, let him sleep.”

#

Gary bolted upright in the grotto with a gasp. “That’s it… it was right there in front of me all along…” He whispered, as he slunk into his workshop with a strange smile on his face.

Downstairs, he called for the lights to brighten up with a moment of concentration. He deftly removed the simple, homemade padlock from his cabinet of awful things and put his iron dummy head, with its partially completed mask on the workbench. He brought out his leather roll of inscription and inlay tools with a smile.

“It was staring me in the face all along… sorry ‘bout the pun… Anyway, I can’t make you an identity and a face, because you aren’t a living entity and I’m not a god. I can give you a name though; then we can build an identity and find your face together…” He smiled warmly at the cold, empty eyes. “Victor Frankenstein junior, welcome to the world.”

With that, he took the mask from the iron head and began to work, while chanting softly.

About a quarter hour before first bell, the whole inn shook with a soft thrumming sound, as though every string and skin on every instrument had been strummed or thumped with a single gentle hand.

The whole group scrambled their clothes on and headed for the shop to see what, if anything had resulted.

“He’s been teetering on the edge for a long time, weirdly long for only iron rank.” Luna muttered as they went down the stairs. He could just be having a fit of some kind…”

The boy was in a strange costume, wearing a long white coat and long black, shiny gloves. The strange chant and cloth covered slab failed to give much confidence.

A weakling, weighing 98 pounds,

Will get sand in his face,

When kicked to the ground.

And soon in the gym, with a determined chin,

The sweat from his pores,

As he works for his cause…

Gary gyrated and vamped, using breathy accents and whispered syllables to punctuate where he spoke crisply. He pranced and spun around his sheet covered form with glee, revealing that he wore scandalously little under his coat. What little he did wear, caused more concern than nothing at all would have.

He'll do press-ups and chin-ups,

Do the snatch, clean, and jerk!

He thinks dynamic tension,

Must be hard work…

… Such strenuous living,

I just don't understand…

When in just seven days,

Oh, baby, I can make you a man!

He pulled the sheet away on the final verse, with the now familiar sensation of Gary’s strange ritual witchcraft slipping shut, like a window closing after letting the cat in. The white cover came away, revealing a tall, impossibly slim suit of wooden armor, with an intricate, inlaid mask, peering from within its lacquered wooden helm.

“Gang, meet Victor. He’s from out of town… Don’t worry, giving a hollow one a name is a game changer, right buddy?” Gary sang as his creation clumsily stood on its wooden shoes.

“We’re operating on the Pinocchio principle, if he wants the chance to become a real boy… he has to earn it.” He turned to the tall, blue lacquered form. “You know there are no second chances here. You know what happens if you break my strictures.”

It nodded once, and turned to the others. “I wish to learn. To be, to become… I? I am, now, again?” The figure swayed, until Gary swooped over and caught it up, placing it back on the slab.

“Not quite ready yet… gotta let him settle in a little more. Next time he should be more stable.”

Gary plucked the elaborate mask of lacquered wood, inlaid shell fragments and bone talismans out of the empty helm and placed it on an iron dummy head. That terrible thing vanished into the only locked cabinet in the entire house.

“Gary, did you really do for that hollow one, what you did for Axio and the dryads?” Tawny asked in horror.

“Yup.” He said happily. “I think I might have hit iron rank doing it too. I feel good… and I bled from my ears for a few minutes. Is that normal?”

“Would it matter if we said no?” Khan asked from the middle of the group.

“Guess not. Lemee pull this up and take a look…” He spent a few moments looking over something no one else could see. “Nope, still unranked.”

He passed out scrolls with his info, conjured with a flourish that was both unnecessary and inexpert.

Gary Ward: Demihuman Monster

Class:Undead druid, aberration

Age:18

Rank:plus

Might:Iron*, Beast, divine Contract, Homebody, The Hive, The Sun.

Resilience:Iron, Secret, divine Contract, Fractured Soul, Quietus Moon, The Moon

Agility:Iron, Spear Wanderer's Legacy, Pockets!, Sleight of Mind, The Hierophant.

Will:Iron*, Brigid, etheric Contract, Artisan, Bound in Flesh, The Hanged Man.

Mind:Iron*, Morrigan, etheric Contract, Interface, Unlivening, The Endless Dance of Death.

Animus:Iron**, Joy, divine Contract, Familiar Stranger, Entrainment, The Fool.

“Hmmm… Luna muttered. “Not quite yet I think… A little more exercise will do it… the regular kind, they pummeled you enough yesterday.” She mulled it over for a moment.

“Come on, let’s get upstairs, I need coffee.”

“So we’re just ignoring the abomination downstairs on the slab?” Becky asked in disbelief.

“He’s not an abomination, he’s a mortal soul, captured before being fully incarnated… I suspect the details are best left unexamined. The abomination was turning him into a Hollow one.” Gary grumbled.

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“I don’t know what he was going to be… or even if he’s naturally anything like a humanoid. The poor thing never entered a mortal realm and became a fully living thing. A friend suggested that I let him take a stroll through our world for a few days.”

“That’s even weirder and creepier than usual.” Becky grumbled right back.

They all clammed up when the little ones came downstairs, Amy in the lead. She stomped downstairs looking like she was disappointed in them all. “You all look sneaky!” She accused.

“They were playing with dead things.” Rio answered for them. “The dead thing downstairs.” He shook his head grimly.

“Victor won’t be with us long, think of him as a wounded creature, we’ll take care of him for a few days, before we release him into the wild.” The poor mad boy smiled darkly.

“He’s a lost soul, so I have to do my job, right kids?”

He fixed his glare on the others. “Your gods made me a psychopomp… whether I like it or not, so I’m going to do the job as I see fit.”

“What’s a psycho whatever? Doesn’t that just mean he’s crazy?” Luna asked from somewhere.

“Yes, hes crazy…” Becky answered softly as her brother marched out into the sunshine, whistling a medley of birdsongs.

“...but a Psychopomp is a cleric or spirit dedicated to helping the dead pass through the veil. Remember that strange dog man spirit?”

She received a mixed bag of nods and whispered questions, mostly answered by the nodding members of the troupe.

“Fie, up intae the sunshine, the lot of thee. I hae plans fer the day, an will thank ye tae busy yourselves.” Shai trotted off after Gary with a wave. “Children, mind Becky an Grandma Amelia! We will return by fourth…”

She followed him through the river side hedge, passing through a gate that appeared as he approached.

“Gone fishing?” Tallum asked with a grin.

“Yup, let them work it out… I’ve got a Contract coming soon too… gotta get in shape for it.” The tiny mage’s eyes snapped to her younger brother, trying to slink away.

“Dannyl! Sparring match!” She bellowed, bringing him up short.

#

Julius Rummel did not enjoy traveling by boat, but sometimes it was the best option. With most of his land forces tied up with the mess in the mangroves; his small navy was hard at work with supplies and patrolling the rest of his watery domain.

He had three platoons of Belen mercenaries and two contracted Adventure bands working the problem, along with his pack of greenies. Now his challenge was to pry Belen’s latest band of hotshots away for a few weeks.

Rummel needed a real solution, before even his family’s deep pockets ran dry.

That was why he was sitting at the prow of his chief captain’s personal yacht, hurtling up the river Belen at a clip that was right at the edge of what could be considered sensible, the far edge.

Captain Barney was a veteran and a potent wind witch in his own right. The old man loved sailing too much to ever retire and preferred mundane supply runs, over sedately barging his lordship around… Usually.

“Fast? Yer sure milord? ‘I yer sayin fast ang I’r, thinkin fast is no the same thing.” Barney had stammered, on the morning they left. Only the prospect of a fast run up the challenging river Belen in spring could make him lose control of his accent so completely. Now Rummel regretted his choice…

“Yes, Captain, calm yourself… I wish to be in Wheatford as quickly as is safe…” He had said to his excitable old friend.

The geezer had been basically the admiral of his small, family navy since his great grandfather’s reign. No amount of noble hobnobbing could rub away the rough edges when he got excited though… and he was excited now.

“We take ‘Kingfisher… yes?” The old man had asked cagily, expecting to be saddled with old man Rummel’s luxury barge instead.

“Yes, captain, we take your damn ‘Kingfisher’...” He’d answered… Everything after that was a timber rattling, rope creaking, spray drenched blur.

The sleek white splinter of wood was all ropes and sails, above the deadly knife edge that sheared the water like a tailor’s scissors.

‘Kingfisher’ moaned like a live thing… one that was having a grand time, enjoying itself with a compatible live thing… The boat seduced the water in a very embarrassing and jarring way. It also seemed the waters were into it, as the boat got slapped and tickled playfully over the surface.

Designed and built by Barney, in his own considerable free time with his own considerable resources, she was a terrible wonder.

“Should have named it ‘The Creamy Spray’… sounds like a brothel during the feast of War… ” Julius complained as the boat tried to rattle him to pieces in ways no horse ever had.

Kermal giggled and nearly fell off his bench when his duke fired off another in a long line of juvenile and off color quips. If not for the profusion of ropes, rails and handholds, the duke and his young squire would have been swimming a few times already.

“Mind yer grips, Lubbers.” Barney called.

“You let him call you ‘Lubber’, my lord?” Kermal whispered over the wind in the sheets.

“It means, ‘your grace’ in his language…” Julius replied happily.

Kermal looked at him in confusion. “No, my lord, it’s a common sailors term, for a land person who is hopeless on the water… Who told you that other thing?”

Julius bristled at young Kermal Singh. “Nonsense! Since my grandfather’s day, Barney told the old duke… wait…” Julius turned his gaze to the old sailor.

“Captain Barney…?” He began.

“Ware boom!” The old fart barked, as several yards of white canvas swung between them, obscuring the duke’s glare. Laughter seemed to float on the following wind that answered the old man’s call like a faithful hound.

Both noblemen were chilled to the bone, soaked through and stiff, despite the bright spring morning and warm sunshine. That cold, damp wind was still running right off the shallow sea, racing up the river behind them.

When a long stone pier came in view, with that bright red, tile roof above, the lords sighed happily.

The scent of the hotsprings and herb garden welcomed them as the slim boat kissed the fenders gently.

With deft skill born from generations of working the water, the old man had his boat tied up and strapped down within minutes.

On the leeward side, a massive barge floated, hideously ornate and embarrassingly luxurious… just like Julius’ grandpa’s. They strolled up the pier in the shadow of the massive barge and climbed a short set of stone steps to a long hedge lined path leading to the road and a gate.

Julius and Kermal slipped through without a second thought, bringing the old captain along in their wake.

“Be at ease Captain, this is a friend’s home.” Julius urged the reluctant sailor.

“Feels uncanny, my lord. This place, she is…” He paused and thought for a moment. “Not unnatural, my lord… supernatural as in super, natural.” He whispered.

“I felt this once, salin’ fer pleasure in the deep swamps… like every bug and lizard was watchin’ judgin’ ‘er weighin’ me actions. Like the eye of Beast herself were on me.”

“Beast has been peeking in a bit lately, we have some interesting projects ongoing…” Becky sang cheerfully, as she stepped into their path.

“Most of what you feel is the hushed aura of the temple of Knowledge. Welcome, your grace, lord Kermal, brother Barney… Be welcome indeed.”

They were welcome indeed. Old captain Barney hadn’t felt that since his long faded memories of granny, kissing his cheek when he came to visit her warm, tidy cottage in the woods… Before he came to the orphanage so very, very long ago.

“What is this place?” He whispered, lost in memories. He could almost smell the plum blossoms in her garden, where he would nap on those lazy summer days.

“Home, brother.” Becky whispered softly, just for him. She took the old man’s hand and led him in, leaving Julius and Kermal to their own devices.

#

Otho and Naiomi had been haunting the private bath at the inn pretty consistently. They could definitely feel the difference between the baths at the Adventure compound and the public baths here. The private pool was the straight stuff, fresh from the void and drenched in potential.

When Becky ushered the old sailor in and handed him over to those two, she had a look in her eye that said she knew what she was doing.

“Ohh, look what we have here, Otho my boy…” The old woman said cheerily to her equally aged companion in the bath. “This child has been stuck at the end of iron for…” She turned to captain Barney with a motherly smile.

“How long since you ranked up, my child? Twenty five years?”

“Sixty, honored elder.” He replied on instinct, bowing to her as he hadn’t bowed to anyone in decades.

“Oh excellent!” Otho cheered. “A perfect subject… I would guess the problem is with his eastern meridians and heart chakra… common with Wind Contracts. He should respond well to the treatment!”

“First thing in the morning young man… we will have you up at the orphanage and see about breaking that bottleneck in your qi and mana channels.” Naiomi said with the kind of firm conviction that allowed no response save:

“Yes, honored elder.” From the poor old sailor.

#

“I feel bad for him. Serious cultivators are a nightmare, beware lest you fall into their clutches Kermal.”

Julius whispered, from the steam drenched shadows, where his squire was hiding them from view, with his gift for obfuscation.

“They seemed nice…” Kermal began, at a normal volume, until his lord hushed him.

“Once, I spent a week trapped in a spinning hell orb of disorienting nightmare motion… only to discover it had been less than ten minutes in total… I still wake sweating..” He whispered tensely. “My emotions are still…”

A wrinkled, bronze hand grasped his shoulder. Skeletal, but warm and firm, Otho pulled the young duke into the light.

“Young duke Rummel! How delightful. I hear you have hit a roadblock in your cultivation.” He exclaimed. “We will fix you up while you are here. Who is this young man? I sense Joy’s kiss on your cheek.”

“Kermal Singh, Beloved Otho.” The small boy said formally, bowing low.

“Now now… we are all orphans in this house… mostly. None of that silliness, just Otho, or Priest Otho if you must.” He chirped merrily.

“This is Naiomi of Healer…We are just a couple wrinkled old leaves in this lovely teacup, nothing more. Have you ever tried gyro-pope training, young man?”

#

“Curse you Kermal, curse you and your line for a dozen generations…” Julius gasped, as sweat poured from him.

Two tiny bronze ear cuffs and a meditation mat were all the tools at his grace’s disposal, while poor Kermal slowly revolved in the strange hoops and wheels. The machine kept him in motion, as he chanted the mantra the old torturers had taught him.

“Oye como va mi ritmo…” He repeated, again and again.

Kermal… If I could be certain you were rolling your eyes at me in there…” Julius muttered. The poor nobles thought it was simply a cultivation room in the bowels of the orphanage…

Otho and Naiomi were in the manufactory next door, suffering for their arts by tasting chocolates and other confections. No matter how valiantly the orphans struggled to fend the snacky elders off.

“These chocolate cherries are exceptional, Colette!” Otho exclaimed, gesticulating with chocolate smeared fingers.

“I’m still not sure about having those two down here. Ivy was pretty adamant…” She muttered, while slipping the tray of gleaming brown bonbons out of the old man’s reach.

“They will see nothing I do not wish them to see. Trust that my dear. You had no such concerns for the Belens…” He grumbled softly at the girl with the chestnut locks and hard eyes.

“I plan to serve duke Belen long after my indenture, master Otho. He is one of us, that makes his children my kin as well… these two…”

“You have also changed much, since midsummer last, my dear… though I still worry that the rage in you burns too hot. Monsters aplenty await your spear, sweet Colette. Do not rush to meet them, they will come for you when the time is right.” He spoke softly, hugging the tall girl, while trying to sneak another treat.

“Ugh!!” The old geezer choked and made a sour face.

“Unsweetened chocolate… just for you, master Otho, here, have another!” Her sweet, cruel laugh warmed his heart, while he scrubbed the bitter mess from between his teeth.

“I would like to send you out on a patrol with young Dannyl and a few of his friends… no, not Gary, nor Ivy… perhaps a bit of time in the wilds, stabbing monsters with pointy things will provide clarity.” Otho spoke warmly, and soft, over the quiet hum of the chocolate machines.

“You think the sight of blood will turn me to some peaceful work instead? Chocolate is all well and good, but I’ve seen… and now I have some power…”

She clenched her fist in restrained fury. It wasn’t the old, cold bitter rage of helpless fear that had followed her since that sunny summer morning, when horror consumed her life. Now she could feel the heat of it, flooding her.

“I’ll never learn what this means if I don’t get out there… will I?”

“No, you will not. Some combative gifts will only reveal themselves in… combat. My concern is seeing that you live long enough to master that power, my precious little sister.”

He winked and held up another shining brown cherry, filched from her worktable. “And you make delicious things too, Life is not all spilt blood and the cracking of bones!”

He scampered for the doorway with his prize, giggling like a naughty child. “Consider my suggestion…” He sang on his way out.

#

The peaceful little backwater was miles from anywhere… wide and still. The little boat ‘Seahorse’ was far from anyone who could see or hear what was happening or hear the loud excited sounds, besides the waterfowl.

“Harder boy, really push… faster! Aye keep it up just like that!” Shai almost screamed as her body was thrown about violently. She surrendered to the passion shouting her pleasure and joy to the sky.

Poor Gary was wracked, exhausted and sweating by the bucket as he worked to meet her insatiable passions. With a final spasming grunt, he flopped over limply, gasping for breath.

Seahorse slowly drifted to a stop and Shai sank into the cool clear water of the river. She dropped her tow line and laughed.

“Waterskiing be even more fun than fishing!” She shouted to her exhausted mate. She kicked off her ski and swam to the boat, launching herself in over the gunnel with a smooth, powerful move.

Shi landed, wet, nude and glorious, sprawling beside him, still giggling. She nuzzled his ear with those cherry kool aid lips and whispered softly. “We’ll go fishin’ again tonight… fer a fish I do plan to catch many more times yet again…”

His feeble twitching in the pelvis region said her words hit the mark. “Aye, ‘tis the right bait I hae indeed, fer fishin’ the wily Gary.” Her laugh rang out, warm and clear as she draped a robe around herself, to Gary’s deep disappointment.

She took the tiller in hand and got the boat underway again. Course set for the moment, she grabbed her boy and pulled him into his favorite boating position; sitting at her feet, leaning back on her shins, while she played with his hair.

The new motor had none of the subtle vibration and sound of the old model and was much more efficient at cruising speed. It could also go dangerously fast, at the expense of truly brutal mana consumption. It drained him like a holed waterskin, all his mana and stamina running out in a scant half hour of wild hectic fun.

That was the impetus for the day’s activities… not that she had been watching girl group videos from the eighties, with the GoGos’ in heavy rotation. She was still singing softly while her fingers ran through his hair…

A week without you,

Thought I'd forget!

Two weeks without you,

and I Still haven't-gotten-over-you-yet!

Vacation, all I ever wanted!

Vacation, had to get away!

Vacation, meant to be spent all alone!

“Uhh huh…” He mumbled. “No more girl power tracks… I can’t handle anymore…”

“Poor lad, You’ll make a fine man of thyself yet, I’ll wager… sleep now. I dinnae ken why ye kinnae rank up.”

#

Ducky was tapping his golden slipper in mild dissatisfaction when Gary got there. “You won’t be here long... again. So listen up, You and Shai are too tightly bound together, you can’t rank until she is ready to, then you will drag her over the line. Relax, take some time. Let her gain her final two Contracts, then watch what happens.”

He sighed happily. “I was worried I wouldn’t get all that out in time. Stop avoiding us, rest more. You carry heavy burdens, we are here to help you bear them.”

Gary opened his mouth to be a smartass, but yawned instead, rolling over into normal sleep.

#