Our travelling that day didn’t last long; it was late afternoon when I reached the farmstead, now after the fun of cleaning and loading the cart the sun was low on the horizon. I would have asked Oskar if there was a closed camp, but the communication issue made it a moot point. So, I just kept plodding along down the road.
“Pest, go find us a spot to camp?” I asked him and he whipped around from the grass he was sniffing to stare at me.
‘Satellite office?’ he asked, and I rolled my eyes.
“Yes.” I confirmed and kept plodding. I decided to call up my last skill notification.
[Intimidation]
Unlock Conditions – Intimidate someone.
[lvl 1] – You can make a target fearful of you.
[lvl 3] - You can make a target terrified of you.
[lvl 6] - You can make a target instantly flee from you.
[lvl 9] - You can make a target lock up and be unable to act, the fear so great that they completely shut down. PICK A GOD AND PRAY!
That may come in handy.
***
Pest took his mission to heart. The chairman wanted a satellite office for the night, he would find them the best location for one. A prime location always has a lack of rivals and preferably a few clients around for commerce. He scented alongside the road, he dashed ahead and left Chairman Viktor and the vacant one behind. Something was wrong with the other one, he lacked the spark that the chairman had. He wondered if he had the spark, but he wasn’t a doctor. He couldn’t self-diagnose.
A few strides ahead he caught a whiff of something. It was not quite the same as the clients he had dealt with before, but he figured it would be something worth investigating. He slunk through the low grass and crept quietly along the scent path. This would be a difficult lead to track down, he would need some time to cultivate the prospect. As it was, he thought this location would do well for a temporary office. A perfect staging ground for his tracking down leads.
‘Here!’ He announced at Chairman Viktor and look him respectfully in the eye. The chairman nodded at him in acknowledgement and started veering his cart towards the location. Pest pressed his nose to the earth and inhaled deeply. He let the scent linger in his nose as the chairman stopped close to him and tore at the ground. He made a place for the fire and got it burning on some supplies they had brought with them. The boy fidgeted nervously around, looking out of place. Pest looked him in the eye, but the boy refused to participate in the eye contact. He would not make a good businessman, Pest decided, and left him to his own devices.
Pest didn’t have time to ween the young one of such dull prospects into a proper junior associate. Maybe someday Pest would find someone to take under his wing and show the ways of the business. But this boy was not it.
By the time Pest had finished his evaluation of the boy, the chairman had the fire going and was setting out his sleeping roll. He handed out meat and carrots to the boy and Pest took some of the dried and chewy flesh to curb his hunger. It was never as good as it was when it was fresh. He may be able to change that soon. After the darkness fell and the afterhours shift started, he would begin his hunt.
The night came quickly, as it always did, and the chairman started to snore loudly, the boy had bedded down under the wagon on the earth and seemed to be sleeping as well. Pest did a pre-hunt stretch to limber sore muscles and started hunting for the elusive scent again. He found it after a prolonged search and began to follow it. The grass was not tall, but sufficient for Pest to go unnoticed in. His skills at stealth were more than capable of hiding his business maneuvers.
The search for the client was a long one, he went very far from the road, but in a relatively straight path. The further he went, the stronger the scent became. He knew this meant his negotiations would be possible this night, he just needed to be patient and keep his steady progress. A hasty businessman could spook clients.
The terrain turned rockier, not to an alarming degree, but noticeable. Small crevices and nooks and crannies became more common as he went on. The grass started to show gaps as the rocks became more common. He had to slow slightly as he explored some of these crevices and caves, the scent becoming more concentrated, as if the client used these places to traverse but didn’t reside in them.
Pest easily fit in all the places the scent lingered, so this hinted to him that the client was larger than he was. Maybe as large as the hares that he and the chairman had been negotiating with. Eventually his ears perked at small sounds. Scratching at rocks, with a shuffling of feet and light hissing noises.
Pest crept out of his most recent path through a crevice and spotted an odd client species. Maybe it was a rival instead? He wasn’t sure. More something in between. It had grey and white fur with a small and pointed face, like a rodent. A long furless tail whipped behind it. Long clawed fingers gripped the ground as it lumbered along with a sloppy swishing gait.
Pest gauged the situation quickly, formulating a business plan for maximum profitability. Luck was with him, as the client-rival didn’t see his investigation, and since it seemed to be twice his size, he would need to lay a surprise hostile takeover.
Harnessing all of his skills at silently tracking down leads, he positioned himself in the client-rivals path. The creature was not a swift mover, and seemed to possess very poor eyesight, giving no care for the noise it made as it wandered through things it had every chance to avoid. Its noise and brazen ways only helped to mask Pest’s movements. He positioned himself on a rock, above where he estimated the client-rival would pass through.
As it waddled its way in front of the rock, Pest took a running leap and spring into the air. He plowed into the creature from the air and did his best to grip it with his stubby arms. The client-rival had a moment to hiss out a horrible sound before Pest clamped his jaws down on its neck. His positioning wasn’t ideal, and it was so large that he wasn’t able to grab its windpipe, but his mouth filled with blood as he wildly thrashed his head and tore the flesh open.
The hissing turned to a wail as it tossed its body violently. Pest felt his purchase give as he tore a mouthful of flesh off and went flying to the side. Pest scrambled to his feet and faced off with the rival. He decided to claim it a rival at this point because the ugly thing opened its mouth to reveal a face full of ugly sharp teeth. No client had teeth like that. They were made to rend and tear flesh. It hissed violently at him and charged.
Pest danced to the side and performed an airborne roll to land next to the rival. He lashed out fast as a serpent to latch onto the rival’s neck again. Again, it thrashed violently. Pest wasn’t launched this time but rather smashed under it. He had to let go of his bite with a squeak of pain as the rival crushed the air out of him with its bulk.
He took a moment too long to recover and the rival turned on Pest and latched its own mouth around his forearm. Pain burned through him as the sharp piercing teeth stabbed into his flesh. This hurt even more than the pain the evil Urkel had brought to him with his weaponized sticks.
This was not an equitable trade. Or maybe it could be. Sometimes in a negotiation, one had to sacrifice something to come out on top of a deal. He allowed the rival to keep ravaging his arm. The way things laid out lined Pest up perfectly to strike back. He lashed out and bit down on the rival’s evasive windpipe.
The creature released Pest as he bit down with all his power. It tried to break free, but Pest held on with dogged determination as he twisted and thrashed against the thing with renewed vigor. He ripped and tore at the rival even past when its struggling ceased.
Finally, after a good amount of time passed, he released it and struggled to stand proud. The final violence from the rival was intense, smashing Pest against rocks and earth as it tried to loose him. His leg bled freely and stabbed with sharp pain. But he was victorious. The creature lay on its back and was still as only death could bring. Its light-colored fur stained with blood. A batch of faint squeaks came from its belly.
Pest investigated this strange noise, did the rival have a belly full of mice recently eaten? Pest dug at the stomach to find a curious pouch, a small one, on the rival’s belly. Inside the pouch the tiny squeaks revealed to be fat and pink trade goods. They looked delicious and ready to be harvested. Pest knew Chairman Viktor wouldn’t begrudge him this small indulgence.
Pest savored each and every one before the laborious task of hauling his trophy back to camp.
***
I was awake. I had been asleep, but Pest’s bond had woken me up. Some heavy emotions were playing at it, and apparently it had been enough to rouse me out of sleep. After the troll incident I decided it was best to not return to sleep until I figured out what trouble he was up to. I activated the Party overlay, which I had turned off before going to sleep. It never went away when it was on, even when I closed my eyes and was a real pain in the ass to try to sleep with it shining at me. I was shocked by what I saw.
[Viktor - Healthy]
[Pest - Injured]
I grabbed a spear and went into the grasslands towards his little pinprick of a location indicator. Maybe it didn’t have a limit but being so far away made it hard to see the colored outline. If it hadn’t had been dark out, I might have missed it, it was so small. I took the risk of breaking my ankle out here and jogged towards him. I decided to forgo stealth as well, nothing I had seen in these fields was bigger than I was. And with my new Strength I felt confident of any smaller animal threats. If a dark elf stranger popped up, that might be different, but I hoped that was a one-off encounter.
I quickly came to terrain that was a little rockier. I knew to expect it, having seen the transition when it was daylight out. It looked like an uncleared field. The ground littered with stones the same type as the field fence I has seen before reaching Harold’s home. The moonlight helped me navigate but I did need to slow down and watch myself more carefully. Before long I could make out Pest’s outline in the distance. He was moving in a funny way towards me, like he was dragging something, but I couldn’t make out details that far away in the faint moonlight.
“Hey buddy, are you okay?!” I shouted out to him.
‘Hurt, tough negotiation.’ He called back to me. I hastened my steps, tripping and scrabbling, but to hell with the rocks.
I came upon him as he was dragging something large, three times bigger than him. I’m not sure how far he had gotten, but based on how hard he was struggling to pull it, I’d bet not very far at all.
“Here buddy, let me help you out.” I leaned closer and picked up the thing by its tail. “Oh gross, it’s a fucking ‘possum.”
‘’possum?’ Pest asked.
“Yea, that’s what I call them, they are god damn menaces. Mean too. Good kill.” I tested the heft of it. It was heavy. “Very good kill, Valued Associate.”
‘Yes!’ He announced, very happy about the praise. Crazy little bastard, was my true thought though. The thing should have ripped him in half. It must have been one hell of a battle. And judging from the dark stains on the opossum, it probably was.
“Let’s head back to camp,” I told him and started making way. He quickly fell behind and I turned to watch him. Little guy was limping. Ah shit, that’s right, he is injured. I thought and watched him for a moment. His limping looked pretty bad. I skewered the opossum with my spear and used it to carry it over my shoulder and then scooped him up. He chirped in pain at me, and he felt sticky to the touch.
“Shit, sorry buddy, he got you good, huh?”
‘Yes, was strong rival.’
“No doubt, let’s get back and get you taken care of. Tomorrow you will be right as rain.” I told him and we made our way back to camp, me carrying both critters. He snuggled into the crook of my arm in a way that gave me warm fuzzy feelings. Cute crazy little bastard, I amended to my thoughts.
The next morning I received another daily reminder that I didn’t die, I looked over Pest again. Before we bedded down for the night, I had rubbed yarrow paste on him, much to his displeasure. I really didn’t want to risk seeing what an instant healed limb that was infected by an opossum bite left for a scar. Hell, much less rabies. Would the nightly super heal cure rabies or make it into a super virus? Was this tower world just waiting for one instant-healed virus on the wrong bite to start a zombie apocalypse?
That was not a risk I was willing to take with my little buddy. But through our bond he would still love me, yes? I could live with a feral rabid zombie ferret, I think. But I needed his conversational skills. The Oskar kid sure as hell wasn’t a great talker. Well, that was unfair, maybe when he was with someone who could understand him, he was a chatty Kathy. He had tried to tell me something this morning, but I just shrugged at him until he eventually wandered off to take a shit or something.
Yes, best not to risk the zombie apocalypse. Yet. I raised an eyebrow at the thought. Pest nipped me as I was still holding onto him and not paying attention to this world anymore.
“Little fucker,” I called him and released him to go about his business.
He was a little upset at me that I refused to eat any of the opossum. I just couldn’t do it. They were too gross for me. I think I’d be fine with a rat, or a raccoon, or just about any other pest species. But an opossum? Hell no. ‘sides, I didn’t have an engine block to cook it on. Or what the hell ever those crazy ass rednecks down south did to cook them. I offered it to the kid, and he seemed to take interest in it, so I gave him the spear with it still attached and washed my hands of the whole affair.
I swore I heard Pest muttering about giving valuables away to the unworthy, but it may have just been my imagination.
With a shrug, I grabbed onto the cart and resumed our journey westward.
“West ho!” I called, once I realized we were going west. Which took longer than I’d be willing to admit.
The travel was dull. The fields were made of small hills just enough to break up the horizon, but each time we crested one, all I saw was another small hill in front of us. Occasionally a fork in the road would pass, and other than a casual glance at the map to make sure I was still on the correct path, they held no interest. It was very boring to travel in farm country. It was even worse than there weren’t any farms to see. I wondered at that, this odd biome looking like it was crafted for the very task of farming, but no farmers to be found. Maybe it was just room for future expansion? I mean unless Loki forced population control, with the induction of more Chosen each day, and the breeding of the locals. It would only be a matter of time before his tower started to fill. And since we were supposedly immortal now. That time would never end.
I started to think of my future, and what I wanted to actually do. I didn’t want to come busting in here like a hero Chosen and create an empire to right all the injustices of the world. I didn’t want to be stuck with politics and people to convince or lead as they tried to backstab me and take what was mine. I wasn’t made for that sort of position. My camp location was sweet, but it was so remote and undeveloped that it may be best to just leave it abandoned. Especially with the neighbor I had up there.
I did want to meet up with other Chosen, people I could relate to. I missed having someone to talk to. I could talk to Pest. But he was an odd duck with his constant references to his business. I mean, I got the joke, a collection of ferrets was called a business, but this was really getting drawn out to the point that I don’t think he thought it was a joke. To each their own, I guess. Didn’t hurt my feelings if the little guy wanted to be a business associate.
I knew how people acted online. I never felt comfortable joining up with a guild and doing raids with a zillion people. One mistake and the pure vitriol and poison people would spew out on someone else. I hated the negativity that groups brought to things. I grew up with that, and I didn’t want any more of it. I had a hard enough time controlling my negativity to have an average conversation to be dealing with more of that from anyone else.
But I enjoyed having a few people to rely on and that could rely on me. Being invited into a group and joining the fun with a few folks who didn’t take every mistake as serious business was the best. Maybe I could find a party or small group, each of us suited to our role and good at what we did. Hell, even just friendly folks and shitty at what we did would be fine, if they weren’t the toxic sort.
I didn’t mind filling a support role if I needed to, whatever that may look like in this world. Healing, or buffing or whatever. Rear line duties. But I loved the thought of magic and glorious battle as much as the next guy. Doing damage and outwitting enemies, getting that loot. Hell yea.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
I loved creating things. Maybe I could open a shop? But I’d really rather not. Dealing with customers did not sound ideal. Reminds me too much of my fast-food days. I’ve had enough hamburgers thrown at me for leaving the onions on them, thank you very much.
A small group of friends going out and exploring, kicking ass or getting our ass kicked, who cared, as long as we were having a good time. Low stress, low drama. That sounded ideal.
My thoughts went along those lines for quite a while, but until I saw what Volstad had to offer, it was pointless daydreaming. At least it passed the time, I suppose.
I called for a break after a few hours and took a snack and some water. More of the same surrounded us. The break didn’t last long, and Pest didn’t even wake up from his nap to say hello. The kid seemed ready to go until he dropped. Not sure if that was fear of failing his owner, or if he had some skill for tireless walking. Reminded me of that Hiking skill, which I quickly checked.
[Skill Progress: Hiking: 56%]
Well, that was balls. Damn thing was only barely past half a level. All the wandering in the grasslands I did, this damn trek down the road. What the hell did the system consider hiking to be?
With a little frustration at the ill-defined skill system, I stored away the remainder of my snack and waterskin and resumed trudging along the road.
As I walked on and kept grumbling about the Hiking skill being essentially worthless, I decided it may have been another bug. Report.
[Would you like to report an issue?]
[Misuse of this feature could result in administrative actions.]
“Hiking sucks,” was all I told it. Hit confirm and smirked. Rewarded or smitten, hiking did indeed suck.
As the day started to wain we came in sight of a few buildings on the top of the next hill. The boy chattered something excitedly at me that I couldn’t understand. As it grew closer and I began to make out details, I could see that it was built at a crossroads. A large sign was hanging from a beam that shot out from the corner of the biggest building.
Runes were carved along the top of it and the picture of a fat pig was burned into the wood below them.
I’ll be god damned. Is this my very first adventure’s tavern? And such like thoughts were bouncing around in my head. I eagerly pulled faster at the cart.
The building on the corner looked to be two stories, and of a more familiar box shaped design. I figured this one has actual two stories because the second floor had windows. Another building to the side was obviously an open-air barn. Basically, it was just a roof with a hay loft and some stalls from what I could identify. A small fenced paddock with a tiny shack seemed to finish the buildings I could see easily. And judging from the excited squeals that went up when a guy dumped a bucket of something inside, I’d bet that’s where the sign’s model lived.
I was grinning ear to ear. Hell yea! Time to form a party! Adventure groups always started in a tavern, right?! It was a cosmic law. And if this crossroads tavern or inn, or waystation or whatever it was, wasn’t the perfect place, I didn’t know what was.
We pulled the cart up to the building and I left it alongside it. I scooped up my rucksack, replete with Pest, and slipped it on and we burst into the building like bosses.
Our reception was lacking however, but I didn’t let that dampen my spirits. The inside was simple, a small room scattered with basic tables and benches, a few doors going in and out and a set of stairs ascending to the second floor. Some barrels, smaller than I imagined they should be, lined one wall. The most interesting feature was the firepit along one wall. It was made of nice stone taken from the surrounding fields and built into a knee-high solid square. A whole pig on a spit roasted above it and filled the air with mouthwatering smells. A small woman was tending it with a basting brush and occasionally turning it. She wore a very plain dress and no shoes. She completely ignored me, another thrall I assumed sourly.
Only one of the tables had a group, a batch of blonde warriors, kitted out in only their best Norse adventuring gear. Honest to god armor and weapons. They even had a collection of round shields like I had seen Harold with. Each one was depicted with a different animal, all ferocious and snarling. They were the spitting image of what a warrior in Valhalla must look like.
They didn’t even spare me a glance as they feasted on pork and drank noisily from large wooden mugs. A giddy chill ran through me. I was finally in a proper adventuring location, no more survival game bullshit for me! A fat man came out from a door on the far wall wiping at his hands with a rag. He was who I had seen outside dumping the bucket into the pig pen earlier.
He said something to me.
“Sorry, I only speak this,” I responded, and he blinked at me a few times. I noticed the conversation at the table of Vikings going quiet.
“Oh, anglesman,” he said with some strain in his voice, he sounded much like Harold had otherwise. I guess the accent on the angleish they spoke would be a common companion.
“No. I’m not sure what the hell an angle man is, but I ain’t it. I don’t have and angles, straight edge as one can be.” I told him and laughed at my own joke. I laughed alone. Tough crowd. I heard a chair scrape back and one of the blonde warriors stood. I glanced over and he was a fine specimen of warrior. The gaps in his armor showing a mix of muscles and lean body. What the hell did these people eat other than pig, pure steroid sandwiches? Other than the fat guy, everyone here seemed to be stacked like a male stripper convention.
“You anglesman,” he said flatly. His accent was very thick, and the words were a struggle for me to decipher.
“Am not.” I argued back intelligently.
“Yes. Anglesman. Not welcome.” He said and flexed his muscles. Apparently, Oskar, who had been hiding behind me felt threatened and stumbled backward over a bench that was behind him. The large fellow focused on him and his brilliantly blonde beard creased with a large frown. He rattled something off in his language.
I glanced back and saw the boy sprawled on his ass, the spear with the opossum dangling off it lay on the floor next to him. He had been carrying the thing like a totem with us the whole way. It was fucking gross, but I gave it to him, and he could do whatever he wanted with it, I guess. I turned my back on the tough guy and helped him up, picking up the spear and handing it to him.
This must have outraged the Vikings for some reason, because suddenly a set of chairs hit the floor and a large hand was on my shoulder. I spun around under force and the tough guy shouted something in my face. I just gave him a quizzical look and tried to brush the hand off my shoulder. He clamped his hand down on my shoulder and looked me in the face menacingly.
“You weapon thrall?” He translated for me with difficulty. I grabbed his wrist and clamped down, twisting his arm and prying his hand off of me.
“Oh, the opossum stick, yea I gave it to him. Is that problem?” I asked politely. I found out long ago, that if you gave a bully over-sweet politeness in their overt threats, it did one of two things. It either threw them off their game, or inherently pissed them off more. Either choice brought me joy, so I tried to use the tactic when given a choice. Most of the time I forgot it was a choice, reacting with my own anger more often than I’d like to admit.
He released my shoulder and yanked his arm away from me. He was turning very red. Pasty lot, these Vikings. I commiserated; I suffered the same affliction I supposed, going red in the face at the drop of a hat. But at least I wasn’t pasty. His buddies had all formed up behind him, a small wall of meaty muscles. Well. Looks like I was about to get my ass beat in my first barfight. And let me establish this, I may be a belligerent and aggravating man with anger issues. But I have never been in a fight in my adult life. But it had been close a few times. I carefully removed my rucksack and put it on the table next to Oskar. Couldn’t have Pest squished in the upcoming fracas.
As I turned back to the group the tough guy was so close, I could smell the thick beer on his breath.
“We seem to be having a bit of an issue communicating, I apologize about that.” I went the way of explaining. “I’m not from here, I just showed up a few weeks ago. Chosen, is what folks keep calling me…” I went on explaining to the heavily breathing man. I noticed a couple of his buddies share a glance when I said Chosen and start to lean back a little bit. I guess the locals really didn’t like the idea of tussling with a Chosen. Maybe with a little work, I could get them to reconsider kicking my ass. I mentally focused on Intimidation. I wanted to be the big bad wolf and shoo these little piggie eaters away.
“Why don’t you fellas sit down, and we go about our business?” I asked politely with a big grin forced onto my face.
I leveraged my new muscles and straightened my back, standing tall. I wasn’t a giant, and I’m sure these tall Norse boys had seen some really big bad asses in their days. But in my mind, I was as tall as a mountain and unrelenting as the ocean. With these feelings my Intimidation hit them. I swore one of the fellows looked like he had been physically rocked back. The tough guy’s followers slowly disengaged, sitting back down at their table as if they had merely got up to stretch their legs for a moment.
Some notifications slid through my view.
[You have successfully used Intimidation on 6 people.]
[1 has resisted your Intimidation attempt.]
It was nice to have confirmation on failure and success of a skill for once, but a little unnecessary in this situation. I knew who it failed on. The tough guy in front of me. And he didn’t have six friends, just three, so it must have worked on the tavernkeeper, the cook, and Oskar as well. Not a bad skill to have for a situation such as this. If a little indiscriminate.
“You no weapon to thrall,” the tough ground out of his clenched teeth. His angleish not so good. “No weapon livestock.”
Well, doesn’t that just butter the biscuit. You see, I had been seething about this world view, not much to do on the long drag over from Harolds Farm, or whatever he called it, other than seethe about the bigotry. Is slavery bigotry? Is that the right word? I dunno, but it sounded good in my head.
So, for the first time, after a little bit of a crack in my smile, I decided to intentionally activate Berserker.
“Fuck it,” I muttered just before the skill took hold. You see, I’m pretty good at not thinking about certain things. Living in a quasi-state of semi-denial. That’s how you keep the rage suppressed. There had been cracks over the years where it would seep out, a small outburst here or there. Such is life. Even a few interactions in this tower had made me lose my cool. But to go from ‘obnoxiously polite’ persona to ‘I want to rend his throat out with my teeth’ persona was a bit of a snap. Even for me.
I lashed out. Ferociously. With my own face. I smashed my forehead into the tough guy’s face as hard as I could. As tall as he was, it put his nose right in the perfect receiving location. He reeled back, arms going wide and smashed into the table of his buddies. Their meals and drinks went everywhere, and they jumped back to their feet. Maybe If I hadn’t been in a Berserker state, I would have been concerned that they might join in at this point, but it didn’t even enter my mind. Probably for the best, since all they did was stand there shouting.
Being a polite fellow, even when enraged, I helped the guy to his feet. Which allowed me to grapple with him. I didn’t hold onto him long though and swung him around to release him in a partial throw. He went stumbling and tripping over more benches and tables to land with a crash next to the fireplace. I didn’t give him the time to get up and get his bearings. I jumped atop him and started smashing fists into his face.
The Berserker skill was no joke. All fury and adrenaline. If many pairs of hands hadn’t grabbed my arms and pulled me off, I may have never stopped.
Notifications and sliding pop-ups pinged through my vision, but I didn’t see them in my current state.
His three buddies pulled me off and held me back. They were yelling at me, but I couldn’t understand them. Finally, one of them started to get through the rage haze and I could piece together what he was saying.
“Peace! Peace! Chosen! He has lost! No fight!” He was saying over and over. I stopped trying to wrestle out of their grip and they released me with some hesitation. I stood panting violently and shaking. Tremors raging through my arms.
They picked up their companion and hoisted him up between a pair of them. He was bleeding profusely from his nose and had numerous cuts on his face but seemed to be breathing. They dragged him out of the building and left me amongst the disaster I had caused.
I looked, Oskar was still where I left him, clutching the skewered opossum. Pest was peeking out of the rucksack, he slithered out as he saw me watching and scented the air from his vantage point on the table.
“Negotiations concluded?” He asked me.
“I hope so,” I answered and nodded at him. My throat felt horse and dry. I think I had been screaming the entire time and didn’t even realize it. My notification indicator was blinking like crazy at me. I ignored it.
The tavernkeeper started bustling around, righting the benches and tables. They were hardy and didn’t look to be any worse for the wear for having a two-hundred and something pound dude thrown around on them. The cook began to unenthusiastically clean up the spilled food and drinks. I helped the tavernkeeper right the benches and slumped down on one, the come down effect of post Berserker state hitting me.
He brought over a large wooden mug of dark beer. Pest investigated the foam, nearly toppling the mug before deciding it wasn’t to his tastes. I took a long pull from it. It tasted like death, but a little buzz sounded good right now, so I forced down half the mug before I had to stop.
“Berserker?” The tavernkeeper asked me, finally brave enough to say something.
“Yea,” I nodded at him and replied simply.
“Don’t worry about them boys, they are just young and dumb.” He added. I gave him a weary eye and just nodded again.
“I’m just passing through,” I assured him, and he laughed at me.
“That’s all anyone does here at the Fat Pig.” He said with a smile. “That’s why I built it here, people coming and going through this crossroads, but never staying. No bad neighbors that way.”
I nodded at his sensibility. He seemed quite talkative all of a sudden. But I guess when tension was in the air a wise tavernkeeper kept his opinions to himself.
“No good neighbors either,” I responded finally.
“Maybe, but it is safe and quiet out here.” He smiled again. I frowned and pointed a thumb at the door behind me.
“That didn’t seem safe and quiet.” I muttered.
“Boys will be boys,” was all that he said and wandered off to help the cook finish cleaning up.
I rubbed my hands, they ached after the treatment I had just given them. Pest inspected them and licked at some of the blood before I hissed at him and hid them away from him. Oskar kept his vigil at the end of the table, still holding the damn opossum-on-a-stick.
“Hey,” I called over to the tavernkeeper.
“Idunn.” He responded.
“You done what?”
“Idunn, it my name.” He said with a strained smile.
“Oh, Idunn, can you help me talk to Oskar here? We don’t share a common tongue.” I asked, a little red-faced over my name faux pas.
“Yes, yes, of course.” He said and came over, “What do you want to say?”
“Well first of all, tell him to sit his ass down and relax, we are going to stay here for the night so he doesn’t need to be so damn wound up. And tell him to do something with his damn ‘possum. Its grossing me out.” I instructed and Idunn gave me a look.
“Thralls do not stay in my establishment.” He told me a matter of fact.
“They do tonight,” I told him with a flat stare. I had also put my bloody hands back on the top of the table and cracked a few knuckles for emphasis. It hurt, but I didn’t let that show and it seemed to do the trick.
With a small sigh, he nodded and started to relay the message. They had a quick back and forth conversation.
“He says it is your banner to do with as you please.” Idunn relayed.
“What, the fucking ‘possum? A banner? Oh god no, gross. I gave it to him.” I winced.
“He has no need for it, his master feeds him enough he says.”
“Jesus, gross, fine, do you want to feed it to your pigs or something then?” I could feel Pest’s glare at so easily discarding his greatest kill to date.
Idunn shrugged and nodded.
“Sure, that would definitely get rid of it.” He took the spear skewered thing away and disappeared out the back door as Oskar sat down. He sat on the same bench, but as far away from me as he could.
“What, do I stink?” I asked and smelled myself. I did. But the damn Vikings lacked deodorant, so what are you going to do?
I took a moment to check my notifications.
[You have activated Berserker!]
[Congratulations. You have learned the Headbutt Skill!]
[Your Headbutt Attack succeeds! Tough Guy takes a moderate amount of Blunt Damage!]
[You have successfully Grappled onto Tough Guy!]
[Congratulations. You have learned the Body Throw Skill!]
[Your Body Throw succeeds! Tough Guy is sent reeling!]
[Your attack is successful! Tough Guy takes a small amount of Blunt Damage!]
[Tough Guy is knocked unconscious.]
[Your attack is successful! Tough Guy takes a small amount of Blunt Damage!]
[Your attack is successful! Tough Guy takes a small amount of Blunt Damage!]
[You have been Grappled!]
[Your Berserker state ends!]
Two new skills joined my repertoire. Both more melee maneuvers. I seemed to be racking those up. For a guy who wasn’t prone to fights before. I seemed to stumble into them quite often this last week and a half or so.
[Headbutt]
Unlock Conditions – Smash your face into someone to do damage.
[lvl 1] - Smash your face into someone.
[lvl 3] - Smash your face into someone within your line of sight from a short distance, travelling that distance quickly.
[lvl 6] - Smash your face into someone within your line of sight from a large distance, travelling that distance quickly.
[lvl 9] - Smash your face into someone within your line of sight from any distance, travelling that distance quickly and take no damage to yourself while doing it. FLYING HEADBUTT!
[Body Throw]
Unlock Conditions - Skill unlock condition.
[lvl 1] – Toss someone away from you after a successful grapple.
[lvl 3] - Toss someone away from you regardless of grapple technique with weak accuracy.
[lvl 6] - Toss someone far away from you regardless of grapple technique with reasonable accuracy.
[lvl 9] - Toss someone exceptionally far away from you regardless of grapple technique with pinpoint accuracy. HUMAN CANNONBALL!
Both skills with potential. And if I didn’t miss my guess, much exploitation. Technically that level nine headbutt meant you could teleport to an enemy anywhere and smash your face into them, scot-free. With the added benefit of no damage taken added to it, you didn’t even have to worry about what was between you and it.
Idunn returned a moment later and returned the spear to Oskar. I could tell he was hesitant to do it, but since I just beat the shit out of a young Norseman in his prime for getting pissed about it, he still handed it over to him.
“Okay, we are going to stay the night. One room would be fine, but I want a bed for us.” When he started to give me a look, I glared at him. “Separate beds you deviant. And food for tonight and tomorrow morning. I can trade in herbs, vegetables or coin, your choice.”
“Let me see what you have, and we shall see.” He said with a humoring smile.
I pulled a sample of the goods from my bag along with a big fat copper coin. Pest immediately ran over and snatched the coin up. I pulled out another and palmed it so he wouldn’t see, but he gave me a suspicious look. Idunn looked at the flowers and vegetables.
“How many of these carrots and onions do you have?” He asked me.
“I’d be willing to part with a dozen or so each.”
“I’ll take those and consider us square, but you need to pay for your own beer.” He offered.
I had no basis of value to bargain properly, but it sounded fine to me. But I wanted one more thing.
“Only if you throw in some of that pig and a loaf of bread for the road.” I countered. He hemmed and hawed a little bit, but after glancing at my hands one more time he nodded.
“Deal.” He confirmed and I offered my hand for a shake. He grabbed deep and we shook grasping each other’s forearms. It was the first time I had touched the fat guy, and I must admit for a fellow with a little extra padding, he had some muscle under there. Damn Norse, even the fat guys are stacked. Definitely a diet of steroids.
The evening resolved quietly; the blondie gang came back in with their beaten up buddy. He looked a little drowned, like they dunked him in a barrel to clean him up. Other than a few glares from him they completely ignored me.
The pig and bread I was served for dinner was delicious, the meat crispy and crunchy on the outside and pull apart delicious on the inside. I used the bread to sop up the juices that leaked from it and gorged myself on it. Much better than dry deer and apples.
I bought a few beers, and after an easy buzz hit me, I even sent a round to the blondies as way of apology for spilling their last round. It only cost me a few of the copper coins I had. Pest attacked me each time I pulled one out, but they ended up going where they needed to go and our antics brought out some laughs from the normally dour Oskar. So, it was a win-win in my opinion. Eventually we staggered, well I staggered, and Oskar followed just fine, up to the room. We found some simple beds and I fell into one. I was happily asleep before I knew it.