My finger curled around the stiff trigger. As the old proverb goes, a bird in the hand is better than two in the bush. I fired, mere inches away from the wrinkled, leering face.
The clurichaun’s head exploded like a ripe gourd.
Bits of brain and bone mass, matted hair, and raglike strips of skin spattered the tile floor behind. The discolored nightcap lay crookedly in a growing puddle of blood.
[2 / 5 ammunition remaining]
[Task Successfully Completed: Remove Clurichaun from Private Residence in Royal Heights]
Almost immediately, the two conjured {rare} items began to fade from existence. I lunged for the closest one, forgetting which was which. I grabbed on, my fingers somehow slipping through the brown leather, failing to find purchase.
Come on, come on, come on.
It was the apothecary’s satchel. I tried to manually add the item to my inventory before it was gone, but I could not. The satchel was between two worlds and fading rapidly from this one. Clawing into the satchel, my fingers brushed against something. Something that still had a bit of substance.
I grabbed hold of this thing, whatever it was, and pulled it away, adding it to my inventory sight unseen.
[1 {uncommon} coco de mer nut added to your Inventory]
A nut? Was it a crafting material?
I would take a look at that later. I waited until the barrel of my revolver cooled before dematerializing it back into my inventory. Probably didn’t matter. Still sore about missing my chance at a free rare item, I turned my attention back to the kill.
As I had seen before with the hellhounds, the diminutive corpse began to glow, motes of light drawing from it and coalescing in the air above. Quivering, shining geometry. And this time, a single crystalline card - glowing at turns green and red in the shifting prismatic light.
I eagerly reached for my prizes and drew in a sharp breath as I felt the floating objects imbue themselves within me.
[100 Crystals obtained]
[Rare Data Card obtained - Clurichaun (Skill)]
Woah! 100 Crystals. And a complete data card, not just fragments. Maybe that tincture actually paid off. I wondered how much better the rewards could have been if I invested more in my Probability statistic.
Not so fast. I heard a tinkling noise as Crystals spilled onto the ground, rolling into the pooling wine and mixing with the shards of broken glass.
[Alert! Account storage full.]
I quickly checked my inventory.
[ECONOMY
* CRYPT
* CRYSTALS
* * 32
MEMORY
* STORAGE
* * 230 / 230]
The data card, crafting material, and 32 Crystals had filled my storage to max (with my temporarily depleted Essence).
I silently cursed and dropped to my knees, scooping the remaining Crystals into a pile as best I could. The clurichaun’s corpse had already started melting into a black inky puddle, and then dissolving from view. Only the detritus of smashed bottles and my own blood splatter remained.
I would have to haul these 68 Crystals back to The Commons manually. But how?
I looked at my coveralls, torn as they were from the clurichaun’s attack. I had an idea. I materialized my push dagger and began to cut the fabric of the coveralls at the waist, carefully working my way around until the entire top half came loose.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Thinking again, I cut off one of the arms, tying a makeshift bandage around the bleeding gash hidden somewhere beneath my wavy asymmetrical crop hairstyle. Then I laid the rest of the material on a dry spot on the ground, carefully picking the Crystals and placing them in the center of the fabric, then hoisting the edges and tying them into a sort of hobo sack.
Assuming I completed my Task within the window to receive the bonus, I now had 5,000 Crypt waiting for me back at the bounty boards. 5,000 Crypt that I technically didn’t have storage space for. I really, really needed to get ahead of this storage problem. Maybe one of those rare items would have helped. C’est la (seconde) vie.
I was now dressed in black pants, ragged around the midsection. I assumed that jeopardized the defensive capabilities of the item, but was too tired to care at the moment. As long as I didn’t get any nasty surprises on my way home, I should be okay. Still didn’t have money for the train.
I wonder if…
I walked over to where the clurichaun had first entered the wine cellar, emerging as it had from beneath the floor. I got on my hands and knees, poking and prodding the edges of the large, square tiles. Could I pry one up? Was there some sort of tunnel or hidden underground lair?
After about fifteen minutes of careful searching, I gave up. I couldn’t get a single tile to budge, and in the original darkness and ensuing chaos, I couldn’t even be sure what tile had moved in the first place. Or if my eyes were playing tricks on me. Maybe if my Perception were higher...
My head stung, and I needed to get home before I got caught in another freak storm. It was a long walk from paradise.
The lady of the house hadn’t come to check on me. I recalled that the wine cellar was completely soundproofed. Nothing now but the steady whirr of the climate control system cycling out the last traces of gun smoke.
Picking up my bundle of precious Crystals, I climbed the stairs unsteadily, careful not to lose my balance. I opened the door at the top of the stairs and stepped out onto the main floor of the house. The door swung closed behind me.
The two SecuBots stood, arms folded, waiting for me. I heard footsteps on the floor above, and the woman, in a completely different outfit, soon appeared. How long had I been in the cellar?
“Oh!”
She stopped in her tracks when she saw me, eyes wide, and I realized what a sight I must have been. Stripped to my waist, revealing my bare, flat, hairless tan chest. A black headband. Dried blood (my own). Carrying a strange hobo sack.
“Oh, so it must be done then?”
Yes. The creature won't be bothering you anymore.
“And you… are you okay?”
I’ll live.
“Well thank heavens. You managed to do in a single night what these stupid bots were wholly incapable of doing. Bravo to that, I say. Might I offer you a tip? Is that permissible?”
A tip? Like payment for a job well done?
At this, one of the SecuBots interjected.
“Ma’am, you really shouldn’t–”
She dismissed the bot with an angry wave of her hand, then began scrolling her finger across some sort of smartwatch device on her wrist.
“How does 1,000 Crypt sound? Does that count as a decent tip these days? I'm afraid it's been awhile since I've transacted business with people from the... uh, service professions."
That… that is quite generous. Thank you.
“Don't mention it! Just give me your account number and I can transfer it right over.”
My account? Oh… I… I don’t have an account. At least I don’t think so.
“No account?”
Uh…
Mrs. Rossignol squinted in obvious confusion, finger hovering over the screen on her wrist. I realized I could likely open a sort of account at the Repository. I wasn’t sure if that would be the same type of account that Citizens were used to dealing with.
“Well, I’m sorry. I don’t have any other way to pay you.”
Sigh.
The concept that I didn't have a bank account for storing Crypt was apparently harder for this woman to comprehend than the fact that a fae creature from Irish folklore was just killed in her basement.
My Task is complete. I’ll be paid the amount I agreed on for the job. Nothing more for you to worry about… ma’am.
She pushed past me, heading for the door down to the wine cellar.
“But of course. I’m so curious, though, how did you manage to–”
She stopped on the stairs, frozen in place. The SecuBots stared at me vacantly from behind their black visors.
“What… the… FRAG!?”
Now it was my turn to freeze.
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY WINE CELLAR!? MON DIEU!”
I heard her footsteps clattering quickly down the stairs, no doubt surveying the wreckage. Smashed bottles, blood stains, a bullet hole or two. Hey, it could have been a lot worse.
I coughed politely and nodded to the unreadable SecuBots.
“THIS IS A DISASTER! No, no! My 1947 Cheval-Blanc? My Screaming Eagle Cab? Oh, you FRAG! You smelly little Volunteer piece of SHIVA! Get out of my house! Get the frag out of my HOUSE RIGHT NOW!”