Disclaimer: No Werewolves have been hurt in the making of this chapter.
Disclaimer for disclaimer: This is actually a lie.
Also, this is the first time I'm working with images, so please understand if they are bigger than what you are used to.
*
A woman with auburn hair walked up to the cave. She was dressed in a strange armor, more scaly than metallic, and her hammer sparked with lightning as she equipped it. Unlike warhammers, this one was larger and heavier, but its purpose, from the looks of the slight further flattening of the hammer edge and the hastily improvised spike, clearly not that of slaughter but of creation.
“You always did seem to have a knack for this, didn’t you Sharon?”
An approving nod as he looked at her handiwork, although she felt (and knew) that it was not quite well done.
A nostalgic voice rang out from memories she held dear to her. She didn’t have time for nostalgia however, and closed her mind to it, her resolve thus set in steel.
“Good lord, Sharon, why do you have to be so stubborn about this?”
No, she had no time for this... She took out a piece of dried jerky and chewed on it, letting the jerky slowly moisten on her mouth as she took out a whetstone and sharpened the spike on her hammer. Then she took out a cloth and polished her armor to the best of her abilities. Using a hammer meant that you didn’t have to waste too much time sharpening your equipment, but every little bit helped.
“Look, you don’t have to be perfect but at least you can easily achieve something close to it, right? Every little thing works towards achieving that goal.” A scratch on his head as he examined at the work before him. “Erm... Yes, even the cracks.”
“Shut up, you ass!!” *SMACK*
"Ouch!! Good grief, what am I going to do with you..."
Rubbing his sore head, a sheepish grin with a hint of exasperation on his face...
She found herself spacing out again, and blinked, shaking her head to clear her mind again.
“This is for his sake. As soon as I find an answer, I’ll honour his memory and cherish it forever. Until then, please wait for me, much like how I have waited for you.”
And for the umpteenth time in 2 years, she straightened up and entered the cave.
It had been 2 years since that day, and she had been entering and leaving the caves, searching high and low for some hint, devoting herself to her craft for his sake.
She had little to no time for nostalgia in her hunt for the White one.
And yet, as she entered the cave, she couldn't help but recall...
“I’ll be back, it’s a promise.”
A reassuring smile full of warmth as he left.
**
I looked Shaft squarely in the eye... or at least in his general direction, since all I had ever seen from him so far had been a silhouette. I pointed questioningly at the Lance that stood between us, which was now glowing fainting in a dim red light, which did little to pierce the thick fog that covered the area.
AH... Shaft spoke a little hesistantly, having just asked the Spear Spirit Lance to go inside the lance (the weapon) the moment I came in with a throbbing headache.
… I HAVE TEA AND BISCUITS, WOULD YOU LIKE SOME?
I upped the ante a little bit, and fixed Shaft with my best impression of Tante when she is serious. Shaft quailed under my stern gaze, which brooked no changing of the subject.
"You better have a good explanation for this." I growled. To simultaneously carry out the plan the moment I stepped into the Fog World, either he has balls or the plan is such a risky one that I must have no chance to consider over.
AH... IT IS A LONG ONE. Shaft already knew that, but that didn't quite stop him from being scared by my glare. ALLOW ME TO START WITH THE TERM. HOW FAMILIAR ARE YOU WITH THE CONCEPT OF POSSESSION?
"Possession, to have ownership of something, no, that is not quite right, Lance is a spirit... Are you referring to Spirits taking over bodies?". I thought over the concept in my head, and came out with the idea which was a common one in the horror genre.
EXACTLY MY POINT. AT THIS MOMENT, LANCE, WHO HAS CURRENTLY MANIFESTED IN THE WORLD, HAS TAKEN POSSESSION OF YOUR EARTHLY SHELL.
"... Explain." Are we suddenly going into the horror genre as well?
DO YOU MIND IF I USE A GRAPHICAL ILLUSTRATION? IT WILL GREATLY AID MY EXPLANATION.
“...By all means.” Shaft nodded, and with hand gestures, a simplistic white canvas was cut into the fog.
THIS IS A SIMPLE REPRESENTATION OF YOUR BODY. AND THIS OVAL HERE REPRESENTS YOUR CONSCIOUS MIND. A badly drawn circle with a oval drawn in appeared in the canvas.
http%3a%2f%2fi.imgur.com%2f40OC8Jx.jpg [http://i.imgur.com/40OC8Jx.jpg]
“... Dude, you suck at drawing.”
SHUT UP. Shaft continued with his explanation, drawing in another circle, this one with a smiley face and with the label “spirit”.
http%3a%2f%2fi.imgur.com%2fVz452GO.jpg [http://i.imgur.com/Vz452GO.jpg]
NORMALLY, A GHOST OR SPIRITUAL ENTITY MAY FORCIBLY USURP THE POSSESSION OF AN EARTHLY BODY AND TAKE CONTROL OF ITS MIND AND BODILY ACTIONS. Shaft explained, but I already knew that already.
"Ah, the foaming at the mouth, twitching, eyes rolling up until you can see the whites, that sort of thing?" I asked.
POSITIVELY SO. WELL, THE MIND AND BODY TENDS TO FIGHT BACK AGAINST THE FORCED POSSESSION. THE REACTION CAN BE RATHER... VIOLENT.
“So it’s the same for my case?” Tante isn’t going to take kindly to that sort of thing. I shuddered at the thought.
WELL, THESE REACTIONS ARE ACTUALLY QUITE EASY TO CONTROL... MOST MARTIAL ARTISTS AND ONMYOJI HAVE THE ABILITY TO UTILISE THIS TO THEIR ADVANTAGE. Shaft replied, and continued as he went into further detail, adding more and more detail to his diagram.
http%3a%2f%2fi.imgur.com%2f5nAAJAc.jpg [http://i.imgur.com/5nAAJAc.jpg]
THROUGH THE MEANS OF CLEARING THE MIND AND THE PRESENCE OF A SPIRITUAL CONTRACT, THEY ACTUALLY ACCEPT THE POSSESSION AND USE THE SPIRIT TO AUGMENT THEIR SKILLS AND ABILITIES. BUT IT TAKES MANY YEARS TO ACHIEVE THAT KIND OF ABILITY. An arrow depicting the conscious leaving the circle marked “Body” was added. At this point, the drawing was beginning to look like it was drawn by a 5 year old... No, in fact, I felt that a 5 year old could probably do better than this.
“And what is the point of this again?” I asked.
FORTUNATELY FOR YOU, YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO SKIP THIS SORT OF ARDUOUS TRAINING. UNLIKE THEM, YOU HAVE THE ABILITY TO IMMEDIATELY CLEAR YOUR CONSCIOUS THE MOMENT YOU ENTER YOUR EARTHLY SHELL PERSONA. A fourth diagram was added, this time with a little more detail (and there was even a tiny arrow which symbolized Lance!!).
http%3a%2f%2fi.imgur.com%2fad3Lwu7.jpg [http://i.imgur.com/ad3Lwu7.jpg]
WHEN YOUR HIT POINTS REACHES THE THRESHOLD SET BY THE CURRENT SKILL PROFICIENCY OF YOUR SKILL ‘BERSERK IMPULSE’, YOUR CONSCIOUS MIND IS IMMEDIATELY BLASTED TO THIS WORLD, AND YOUR PREVIOUSLY REPRESSED INSTINCTS TAKE OVER THE CONTROLS. ESSENTIALLY YOUR BODY BECOMES SIMPLY A MINDLESS KILLING MACHINE. There was a notable emphasis on the word "Mindless".
I nodded. Knew that as well. Essentially, the skill Berserk Impulse gave my instincts a name and a form, rendering it a set personality all on its own, except without a mind.
“Simply put, my skill literally renders my body an empty shell, meaning that a spirit could easily possess it without violent reactions? Like, just literally enter it unopposed?” I didn’t like the sound of that.
I KNEW YOU WOULD GRASP THE MEANING QUICKLY. YOU CAN ALSO SEE THE ADVANTAGES OF IT AS WELL, YES?
“The Spirit could then keep my instincts under control, thus minimising the damage caused by the Earthly Shell...” I thought about it, and immediately saw the appeal of it. I looked again at Shaft, this time with suspicion.
“There’s got to be a catch. There’s no way that this thing doesn’t have a side-effect or something.” I said.
PERCEPTIVE... YES, BASICALLY ALL YOUR ACTIONS ARE NOW DETERMINED BY THE SPIRIT CURRENTLY CONTROLLING THE BODY. Shaft snapped his fingers, and a chair and table appeared in front of me.
YOU MAY AS WELL GET COMFORTABLE. I SUSPECT THAT YOU WILL BE HERE FOR QUITE SOME TIME.
“You knew that already, didn’t you, Shaft.” I had this nagging feeling in my head that something could go seriously wrong, and I quickly was proven right when Shaft answered:
OF COURSE I DID. A SPIRIT YEARNS FOR MANY THINGS. AND LANCE HAS NOT HAD A MATERIAL BODY FOR A REALLY LONG TIME. HOW SHE WILL TAKE TO IT, I DO NOT REALLY KNOW.
“My only hope is that she doesn’t cause too much trouble. She’s not the one who has to ultimately accept the consequences, you know.”
HOPE IS A FICKLE THING. NOW... ARE YOU ANY GOOD WITH CHESS OR SOMETHING?
“I thought you didn’t like games.” I pointed out, recalling our first meeting.
… SHUT UP.
***
*FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE*
A sharp whistling sound could be heard in the air as a lance shot down like so many kilograms of anvil, turning a werewolf into so many pieces of mincemeat and delicatessen.
“Fweeeeeeeeeeeeee~” Lance happily imitated the whistling sound of the movement as he landed on the werewolf, the lance he wielded having unleashed a shockwave that could have been said to instantaneously obliterated the poor werewolf and rippled throughout the battlefield. Howard would have fainted if he had known how high his voice could get.
With a quick and practiced motion, he kicked back and rammed the blunt end of the lance shaft into another werewolf, and spun on the spot, the lance now flashing around him like a protective silver barrier, slicing and cutting his enemies in an unorthodox slashing technique that was whimsical and random in its execution, but effective.
The many piles of loot that were left behind were a good sign of that.
“Sigh.... when did it suddenly devolve into this?” Tante, or Jeanne as she was known as in real life, was bent low picking up the loot as she went with Wisp close behind her. Lance looked like he (he was decidedly a boy with that boyish grin of his, Jeanne figured.) would be the most sensible persona among the different faces of Howard she had seen so far... for like just 30 seconds.
Suddenly the next werewolf patrol appeared out of nowhere and he exploded like a bullet from a gun, with just as much impact as one. The lance he wielded literally.lit itself blazed as Lance used a dash skill to cut down the leading werewolf.
“Let’s take a break, I’m exhausted.” Wisp offered, and Jeanne gratefully accepted.
****
“Tell me.” I said, moving a bishop several steps forward (I intended to perform the castling maneuver later). “Is there something I should keep a note of? There’s sure to be something else I should be aware of when involving a Spirit.”
Shaft took his turn and moved his pawn forward, deep in thought.
YOU HAVE PEN AND PAPER? He asked hopefully, and I shook my head.
“Where in the world am I going to get that? You best tell me verbally, I’m sure I will be able to recall it... somehow.” My Rook switched places with my King, encasing my king within a protective shield of Pawns and a Rook. (Hence known as Castling).
IS YOUR MEMORY THAT UNRELIABLE? NO, THAT WAS A STUPID QUESTION, I CAN TELL BY THE LOOK OF YOUR FACE. OH FORGET IT, PLEASE TRY YOUR BEST.
A knight leapt over Shaft’s many pawns as it advanced for the protective Formation. I moved a pawn on the other side of my board, preparing to let that side mobilize as well.
* 1) Never get a possessed body rascally drunk.
"Got anything to drink?" Tante asked. Wisp frowned and rummaged in his inventory, scowling as he dug out another gourd.
"Dammit, those guys changed the water to wine again." he grumbled, taking a sniff as it. "From the looks of it, it must be Soju (rice wine).... Rice!!"
"What? It's not my fault, Chosen one. Your spell caused the rice to ferment." A squeaky voice came as a tiny plant like creature popped up from the bag.
"Yeah, and the fermented rice mash can just magically distill itself in the process. How many times did I tell you not to- don't drink that!!". Wisp's scolding was interrupted as Tante snatched the gourd of Soju from his hands.
"This smells pretty good.". Tante took a sip, and grimaced. "This is pretty strong stuff you have here. Oi, Lance, get over here, we are taking a break!!"
Lance finished off the last unfortunate werewolf and walked over with a wide grin on his face, almost similar to that of a child who has found a long lost favourite toy. Rice took this opportunity to dive back into the bag.
"What a great feeling, to have a body again after all these years. I do wish that it was a woman's body though." He frowned, but brightened up when he saw the gourd. "Oh great, you have refreshments. Thank god, I was getting thirsty."
Lance grabbed the gourd and started gulping down the Soju in large gulps.
"Erm.... Lance, I don't think that is a good idea." Wisp tried to speak, but was forestalled by Tante. She was grinning. And grinning is a bad thing. Wisp decided against commenting any further.
"What are you saying. It is a must for a knight to be able to hold his wine." Lance retorted, his face flushed red as he took another mouthful of soju.
"Yeah, quit being a wuss and a weed and hand out the drinks already." Tante's face was also red as she grabbed the gourd as well. "And join us for a drink as well. I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."
"I'll have you know that I'm a wimp as well, and I'm proud of the appellation, thank you very - wow, that turned out wrong."
Wisp sighed and took out two more gourds, taking a sniff at each one and frowning. "I have beer and whisky as well, it seems. I will need to have a word with those Karpoi later on."
"Karpoi?" Tante took the gourd of whisky and sipped it, making a face at the bittersweet taste. Lance was looking so red that he resembled a lobster.
"I'll explain it to you later." Wisp chugged the gourd of beer down in one breath in and wiped his mouth. "And this is the last time I am doing this, is that clear?"
"Yeah, yeah..." Tante was still grinning. Wisp made a note to watch for her in the future, his warm image of her crumbling down all around him where he sat.
"Fweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee~"
And Lance shot off like a bullet again, charging at another group of werewolves that chose the wrong time to show up. Wisp watched him go, and laid against the rock comfortably.
"You know, I think he doesn't need our help. Don't you think so, Tante?" He turned his head only to see an empty space where Tante used to be.
"Eh?"
Wisp shook his head and took out a stick of celery, ignoring the bowl of rice being offered to him by Rice, who had a hopeful look on his face. The werewolves were at the wrong place at the wrong time.
**
"And my pawn performs a super 15 hit combo against all odds to take out your Queen!" I crowed triumphantly as I somehow managed this ridiculous feat. "And that puts me at the other side of the board, I promote to Queen!!"
... ARE YOU PLAYING SOME TCG OR TABLETOP GAME OR SOMETHING? KNIGHT TAKES YOUR ROOK. I HAVE YOU IN CHECK.
"A worthy adversary indeed. By the way, why shouldn't a possessed body get drunk?" My expression became serious again as I asked.
THINK ABOUT IT. A SPIRIT DOES NOT HAVE A BODY FOR A LONG PERIOD OF TIME, AND THEREFORE HAS FORGOTTEN ALL NOTIONS OF BEING DRUNK. THUS THE SPIRIT IS MORE SUSCEPTIBLE TO BECOMING DRUNK, AND THE POSSESSION MIGHT ALSO BECOME UNSTABLE AS A RESULT. NOW I DO BELIEVE THAT IT IS YOUR MOVE?
"... And while my King is in peril, the bishop swoops down on a rope and smashes its staff into the enemy knight's head, therefore taking it hostage." I responded by capturing the knight, smiling gently as I did so. "And yes, my bishop is a most cavalier person."
BLAST. I THOUGHT I WOULD HAVE COVERED FOR ALL THE POSSIBLE WAYS YOU COULD MENACE MY KNIGHT. BISHOP RETREAT, WE HAVE TO ESTABLISH A DEFENSIVE POSITION. OH, AND NOW FOR THE SECOND RULE...
* 2) Never join in a rampage when a spirit is involved. This doubly goes for certain if said spirit is rascally drunk. And doubled further if the joiners of said rampage is equally drunk.
As it transpired, Tante couldn’t hold her alcohol at all. It only took her a few sips before she had a headache, and then it was made a lot worse because she didn’t want to lose to a ghost... So well....
Either way, she was feeling rather brave now, charging into combat without the support of her trusty spirit soldiers.
Stabbing and slashing aways with spear in one hand and short sword in the other, Tante recklessly cut a bloody swathe through the werewolf pack, the sword effortlessly covering the blind spots of the spear.
A limb cut off, a sword parrying and attacking the offending werewolf in self defense... The spear flying true, piercing and biting deeply into flesh and bone... And Tante in the midst of it all, pivoting and twisting, slicing and dicing, slashing and dashing, thrusting and withdrawing.
A 5 hit stabbing combo using both the sword and spear was followed by a pivoting thrust which transfixed a werewolf upon the spear while the short sword set itself to work on another.
A strange combination of attack and defense, yet entirely devoted to all out war... Tante got drunk in the moment, revelling in the blood shed.
Wisp watched the two warriors systematically tear the werewolf pack apart, and looked at the gourd in his hand, having noticed a second group of werewolves arriving upon the scene as reinforcements.
Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.
“Oi, Rice, got that mead? I know you must have kept some of it, even though I threw it out.” He patted his inventory.
“Ah, Chosen One, that mead was the treasure of my people, bestowed upon us by your blessing... Of course we wouldn’t throw that away, it’s too precious.” Rice poked up again with a small bottle, filled with a clear golden liquid. He shot an accusing look at Wisp.
“Flavored with cinnamon. Strong stuff, yet good for the body.” Rice uncorked the bottle and took a sniff. “It will be better if it were warmed a little. You can never go wrong with spices and herbs.”
“For the last time, I didn’t mean to suddenly turn your dead into alcohol...” Wisp began, but Rice held up a hand.
“Even the dead have a purpose. I’m sure they will thank you for it.” Rice held out the bottle to Wisp. “Now, take a gulp. And remember to savor it!”
Wisp looked at the bottle apprehensively, and performed a mudra.
"Abbot, please forgive me for what I’m going to do... Amitabha.” And having said this, he swallowed the mead, tasting the mouthful like you would a fine wine. He didn’t seem very apologetic however. (Author’s note: Personally I hate alcohol, so I have no idea what I’m talking about at the moment. :P)(PR note: I’m not of age, and religion forbids me from drinking, so no help from me...)
Suddenly, his pale skin flushed a deep red, and steam began to pour out from his body. Wisp joined in the battle with crazed gusto, stats having been amplified by the mead.
[Drunken Stack x 1. All stats + 10%, Drunken Boxing active.]
Vista of the Gods: Drunken Stack
Turn your intoxication into your strength, being able to utilise an erratic and free flowing fighting style based off the movements of a drunken man. Don’t try this in real life, you will hurt yourself!! In essence, the alcohol is used as fuel, and empowers the body further, augmenting its fighting abilties.
(seriously, don’t.)
Effects stack with each cup of alcohol consumed, but don’t drink too much!!.
Beginner Level 5: Stacks up to 3 times. 1st Stack: All Stats +10%, 2nd Stack: Movement Speed + 50%, 3rd Stack: Drunken Rampage active.
Well... when I said crazed gusto... The werewolves looked confused at the staggering, falling-down-drunk that appeared before them. Normally people would either running away screaming their heads off or as they have learnt recently, getting chopped and hacked to little bite sized pieces. This one was neither. A werewolf raised a paw uncertainly to strike the silly-looking man down... And got an elbow in the face.
The drunken monk grabbed the werewolf by the fur (no, not the fur!!) and fell backwards, his leg seemingly flicking outwards by accident and striking it on the crotch, which caused general wincing and watering eyes among the vicinity. The other werewolves looked at the falling-down drunk on the floor. One of the werewolves (for easier reference, let’s call him Bossy) pushed another forward.
“Go see if it’s dead or something.” it snarled.
“Must I?” its friend (let’s call him Henpecked) barked back.
“Do it or I’ll bite you!!” Bossy snapped.
“Fine, fine....” Henpecked moved uncertainly towards the drunk and used a clawed finger to poke him.
… Oh, it moved.
But why is it suddenly so fast?
A disconcerting tempo was immediately set by the drunken monk, who suddenly moved with great speed somehow from a prone position, knocking them down left and right with a strange rolling movement and unsteadily getting to his feet.
“Just look at him, he seems like he’s about to fall over any minute now.”
“Grab him before he falls over... again!!”
“Yeah, he might get hurt!!” Wait, what?
Oh, he is taking another swig from his gourd again... An enterprising werewolf took the opportunity to try and grab the drunken monk from the back before he gets himself (out of good intentions?) and others (also out of good intentions) hurt. The drunken monk staggered and was falling on his back...
[Drunken Stack x 2. Movement Speed + 50%]
And yet, in that same falling movement, it got elbowed in the chest again, the drunk pivoting on the spot and attacking with multiple jabs which landed painfully on its torso. He fell down again, snagging the legs of the werewolf with his own and twisted, causing the werewolf to fall over painfully.
“Why is a drunk suddenly so hard to catch?!”
Werewolves were gnashing their teeth in frustration. Human fists aren’t supposed to hurt this bad!! While being chased down by the werewolves, the drunk drank from the gourd... again.
[Drunken Stack x 3. Drunken Rampage active.]
Having drank from the gourd again, his skin flushed a deep crimson. Steam poured out from his body in a flood. Grinning madly, Wisp set to work, suddenly seeming a lot more sober than normal.
Today was indeed a very bad day for werewolves indeed.
“WHERE‘RE THE REINFORCEMENTS?!” The werewolf leading the pack barked.
“Sir, we ARE the reinforcements!!” a minion barked back.
“Dammit!!”
*
“Look, this is getting silly.” I moved a rook forward, putting the king back in check.
YOU WILL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE, COPPERS!!! Shaft moved his king out of check. It was a good thing that I had a second rook.
“There, this puts you in checkmate.” I managed to drive the king to a corner and now placed my rooks side by side, locking the king in.
…. MY KING MAGICALLY TELEPORTS AND EATS YOUR ROOK.
“Still checkmate...” I relaxed and sat back.
I DEMAND A RECOUNT!!
“Can we just get on with the third rule already?” I wearily said.
I STILL HAVEN’T EXPLAINED THE SECOND RULE YET.
“That one’s pretty self-explanatory, but Lance, Wisp and Tante are pretty sensible people. I’m pretty sure that they will - ” I suddenly remembered that Wisp was with them, but shook my head and caught myself, trying to reassure myself based on my first impression of him..
“Wisp seems sensible enough anyway.”
Do I really know him though?
**
*Screams and whimpering from the werewolves as they get mercilessly slaughtered by a group of drunken people. The scene is too graphic for even this author to describe it, but let’s just say that there are flying limbs, intestines pouring out, blood spurting from decapitated bodies, loads of gore and blood, just the way you like it. You’ll probably never see a blood sausage the same way again. That is how gory it is.*
Author's Note: In case you let your curiosity get the better of you, I have the uncensored version below hidden behind a spoiler (I’m experimenting with different methods of writing).
Spoiler :
I was kidding. I still have breakfast, lunch and dinner to eat. Maybe I’ll include that portion, it’s guaranteed to make people lose weight!!
“Go on without me!!” A werewolf yelled.
“LEEEAAAADERRRRRRRRRR!!”
*Splat*
***
“Oh yeah, they should be able to hold themselves back.” I said, confident in my first impressions of them, and presently ignoring the fact that I was usually the worst of them all.
*****
Moon looked over the provided ingredients (wood, soil, straw) , frowning as she carefully examined them. They were of terrible quality, but considering the current financial status of her... clients, she was astounded that they even managed to gather them in the first place.
*
Some time back....
“Keep chopping!!” Athos yelled as he swung a simple woodcutter’s axe at one of the many thick oak trees that stood in the fields, ignoring the curious looks from the beginners that were just passing by. He repeated the motion over and over, hacking at the tree as though he was holding a grudge.
“But Boss, we have been chopping for hours on end...” Porthos whined, but his actions have not lost their vigor as he cut down tree after tree with ease.
“Do we have the money to buy gunpowder? Or even the ingredients for it?” Athos tried to reason with his equally unfortunate peer.
“No, boss. Why are we even doing this in the first place? Couldn’t we just leave this until much later on when we are better established?” Porthos asked.
“Didn’t Coach tell us that every good thing was all the result of hard work? Besides, it’s much better for us in the long run if we raised the skill proficiency from an earlier level.” Athos explained.
“Didn’t Coach just solve every problem he came across with his fists rather than hard work?” Porthos pointed out.
“Hmmm... You may have a poin - , look, just keep cutting, we can’t afford the ingredients at the moment. And even then, it’s still a good habit to cultivate. Look, even D’Artagnan’s going at it.” Athos pointed at a scrawny figure in the distance who has been attacking the same tree for the past 30 minutes. He sighed and fixed his statement.
“Never mind. Just get chopping!!” He blustered.
“No, it’s just you being cheap.”
“...”
Despite how badly Athos wanted to retort to that statement, he could not, for it was the indisputably hard truth.
The desperate prideful stinginess of the musketeers under the tyranny of their coach as they attempt to save even a copper!! (Weed would have been be so proud of them.)
And in the process, the fields around the Sleepy Fortress were currently experiencing the threat of mass deforestation, much to the dismay of the beginners.
**
They must be seasoned players, Moon thought to herself, as she prepared the necessary equipment for the process - a pestle and mortar and a furnace kiln.
“Gunpowder should be easy enough.” She had found the process on a history freak’s site: people would grind wood charcoal to a fine powder, using liquid to prevent ignition during the process. Since she didn’t have the benefit of the powerful grinding tools and millstones people had in the 19th century (a millstone would be useful, she realised), she had to go back to ancient history, and use a pestle and mortar to slowly do it. She wondered why people would research such subjects, but right now it didn’t matter to her.
She heated up the flames in the furnace kiln with a set of bellows. It was hard work, but someone had to do it. By right, what she was doing wasn’t exactly what the ancient colliers (professional charcoal makers) used to do, but she didn’t have the specialised equipment to make proper charcoal. She would just have to improvise.
“The things I do for my chosen career...” Moon sighed to herself as she pushed against the bellows.
The kiln was made out of clay, and had a chimney at the top. She further extended it by hanging wooden stakes with some rope, and covered the logs in soil and straw to prevent air from entering. Leaving the logs to burn slowly and transform to charcoal, she spent her days maintaining the fire and and messing with recipes that she had thought of, only stopping to add more soil to the cracked and hardened soil and maintaining the fire.
And of course, she couldn’t resist adding a little something extra to the mix...
A few days later, she uncovered the soil and found that the logs had become charcoal, the wood having been coated with a deep brownish-black. A smoky and woody aroma could somehow be smelt. Moon made a note to go for a proper BBQ dinner today as her stomach rumbled, reminding her that she had not eaten since then.
“I could have done better, but this will probably have to do for the first batch.”
She took out the pestle and mortar and set to work, hacking a small piece of charcoal and grinding it carefully to a fine powder. Having been burnt slowly and dried out over the past few days, the charcoal was easily grinded to a fine powder.
Have to be careful and not cause any sparks; don’t use too much force.
Even as the charcoal has not been finely grinded yet, it was still a rather volatile substance, especially when she has added that extra ingredient for that... extra kick. She made a note to obtain a millstone in the future.
She picked up the powder and looked at it, smiling, staying some distance away and flicking a flame at the powder.
There was a loud but rather small explosion. Moon nodded in satisfaction, and picked up a second piece of charcoal and grinded it carefully with her pestle and mortar.
***
When an exhausted Porthos returned with the next batch of timber, he found a soot-ridden Moon tucking into a steak, and cursed under his breath. Moon looked up at the involuntary sound, her cheek bulging. It was a rather lovable sight. Porthos blushed a little.
“Ou wana ice? (You want a slice?)” She motioned to the piece of meat.
Porthos caught himself before speaking.
“Where did you get that?” He asked. Moon held up a hand and swallowed her mouthful.
“I know my way around.” She grinned, and Porthos flushed a deeper red still, nodding.
“I’ll try a slice then.” Porthos picked up a small piece of beef with a fork and looked apprehensively at the black powdery coating at the side of the piece. He thought nothing of it and put it on his plate, cutting a smaller bite-sized piece and chewing it.
The meat was rather overcooked, but there was also a rather salty and peppery taste as well, which made up for the taste a little bit, complementing it even...
“You like the gunpowder seasoning?” Moon smiled again as she saw Porthos gag and the rather ghastly expression forming on his face. “It’s fine to eat that, you know. I didn’t use anything else other than the wood you gave me, salt and some black pepper. I suppose you might consider magnesium to be volatile, but that’s actually edible as well, in small amounts. Fun fact, the French ate horse meat seasoned with gunpowder during the 19th century.”
“Don’t scare me like that.” Porthos said, exasperated, and Moon giggled. “I see you might are done with the gunpowder then.”
“Yup!! It’s not my best, but it’s my first attempt after all. I’ll slowly perfect it and give you the recipe afterwards.” Moon’s small and gentle smile became brighter and wider, and Porthos found himself ensnared in it. He shook his head again and asked:
“It’s fine, this will do. But milady, could you humor me by answering this question?”
“What is it?”
“Why do you have to go so far for us? We are a poor people, there’s little reward in it for you. You could have spent your time a little more constructively.” Porthos considered the dire state of his group (which, compared to other beginners was better than average but still pretty poor). Moon clearly deserved better, yet chose to help them despite being better off.
“It’s not all poor reward for me, you know. Firstly, I get to master a recipe with help from you guys. Secondly, it raises my skill proficiency in the Alchemist Skill. And lastly - “
Moon’s bright smile dimmed a little, became a little wistful even, her speech cryptic.
“ - Because we are kindred spirits, birds of a feather.”
********
Meanwhile, in the forest between Howler’s Pass and the Sleepy Fortress...
A werewolf was on all fours, and it was running for its dear life, tongue lolling out from its mouth. All it could think about is getting as far away from that young man as possible, for some strange reason.
It suddenly felt a heavy and dense presence in its mind, a voice whispering like a slight breeze.
Why do you run?
“Have you seen that guy’s eyes? There’s something, something terrifying, something powerful. Who wouldn’t be running from that?” The werewolf thought back frantically. That gaze from back then... it felt a terrifying presence. Something ancient and ridiculously powerful.
For a second, he could somehow imagine someone nodding its understanding.
And then the presence left its mind, leaving it exhausted.
It kept running anyway. The world is so much larger than it had initially thought, to have so many monstrosities within a single area.
*********
In the darkness, something stirred. For a second, it thought that it could finally have some fun, but then a foreign presence appeared before it. It shrank back for a moment, hiding where it thought it might be safe, watching and observing the new presence in this new and unfamiliar situation.
Surprisingly warm and free-spirited. Yet, there was something missing as well, a part of it that has been ripped out by force... no, that part was repressed, pushed to the deepest recesses. Much like how it was.
For the time being, it seemed that this new presence didn’t seem to be a threat. It relaxed a little, but kept its guard up.
And then it just stood there, watching and waiting. It was content to bide its time. It has already been released time and again, and a little extra time spent waiting didn’t hurt it in the slightest.
Sooner or later, an opening will present itself. And it will be able to get out of this strange situation and have some fun.
After all, that guy’s not in, so it felt certain that there won’t be any interference from him.
*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************
The plot thickens!! Hope you like gravy.
Also, this is just Part 1 of the Chapter. I'll get Part 2 out as soon as possible, it's a promise!! {[999abo}]
Credits to:
Randomleech for the Proofreading and being so patient with me (I hit a slow patch at the moment, so bear with me here.)
Dreadmoirai for helping me shrink the images.
Extra notes:
Yes, you can actually have gunpowder steak (to an extent.). Just use potassium nitrate, magnesium, sodium and carbon.
Article: http://www.soshiok.com/article/6329
Also, in the 19th century, cut off from supply lines, the french soldiers ate horse meat seasoned with gunpowder. Randomleech could probably attest to that?