So, Joe goes pale when he’s angry. And now he’s shouting. Him is wiry.
I watch as quiet Joe gets a me up his ass and starts shouting. There are muscle groups in his face standing out at high tension, but he’s not doing the throbbing vein --. There it is. Nate tries to calm him, Freckles tries to calm him, and he’s angy ‘cause…?
“Fuck off,” I glare at him.
Great. Now I’m pissed! He’s blaming me for some random weird essence deaths. It’s not my fault I shed. They’re the ones who have people thinking I’m a good luck charm. How’s it my fault if people are trying to collect my shed scales as “treasure”? What guarantee is there that the people are dying and getting sick from my scales and not just random vandalism and malfeasance?
“So any time anyone has ever gotten essence overload was because of me and not some bad actor setting traps because they’re assholes?” I cross my arms and glare at Joe who is still pale and furious. “I’m a catastrophe! You’re the ones treating me like a house pet.
“Really? A glass case in the middle of a room, everyone come look at the sleeping disaster!”
Blaming me because you assholes aren’t taking me seriously? Tch! I suck my teeth and walk away. I need to find a secluded spot to set my anchor. I’m not tired, yet, but I’m gonna be if this keeps up. Tedious assholes…
Joe tries to command voice me and I scream wordlessly to drown him out as I leave the room and head back into the “look at me” area. Tch! Assholes! They could have moved me into a room at any time, but they kept putting me on display? Tch!
I wander around, exchanging polite head nods with people and ignore Joe and Nate trying to intimidate me into going back with them to the conference room. They keep looming and pressing up against me, trying to physically steer me around by violating my personal space, and I wonder if they’re really this stupid. When Freckles tells them that he’s never gotten to pet Snow Jelly for fear of shedding scales, and that they really shouldn’t brush up against me, robes or no, it finally occurs to them that rubbing up on me, especially when I’m pissed, is dumber than putting me in a display box.
I snort as they look down at they’re glittery selves, their skin slowly changing even as they try to suppress the essence as it dissolves from physical scales, to little nuggets of get fucked. I stop long enough to figure out where I want to go, shrug, and shift to the temple gate that leads out into Eager Heart.
I nod and smile at a few people either coming in or going out before wandering off the path and towards the mountains I see in the distance. It looks like there were people trying to set up little homes, based on the rotting wooden shacks I wander across, but I’m not sure if they were kicked out because of my rules or left for some other reason.
I walk past a level area with stone slabs, a little forest resting area with a stone lantern surrounded by low stone tables. There are people loitering and some random foods and trinkets on the tables, but I don’t know if this is one of my feeding troughs or just some kind of exchange area. Respectful bows from everyone to everyone, and we keep it moving.
The air is cool, crisp, not too humid, not too dry, but I like it a little damp. Feels like fall after the rains. I could nap.
I find a nice spot with a fair amount of underbrush, look around for any observers with Omni Super Sight, just shifting it around while I’m standing around like a numpty –.
I look like I’m just standing and shitting myself. Absolutely brain dead. I don’t look relaxed or peaceful at all. Just… Way too much effort on standing around.
I see people being super casual as they follow after me, circling around my path, and just being unobtrusively touristy. Tch. I sniff around, idly eating bits and pieces of the greenery, before settling down, just sitting on the ground. I’m testing to see how loose the soil is, -- it’s got lots of roots even if it’s crumbly, so it should work, -- and getting ready to dig in and hide my fucking anchor.
Make me a star for your petting zoo? Don’t blame me when your patrons start dying!
I yawn and stretch, still grumpy, but now sleepy.
“I just woke up!” I grouse as I climb back to my feet. “I swear I had more energy when I was younger. What happened?”
I’ve got Qi, premium and standard, pretty sure my Will is okay, I ate --. Did I eat? I pause and look around, just enjoying the scenery as I try to remember how much bus I ate. Wasn’t much. Pretty sure I banked most of it because I was in the middle of evaluating the changes to my void.
I snort as I continue to look around. “My” void. This whole place is part of my void? It was influenced by me, somehow, but how far do my permissions extend?
The thought of surveying from above with a quick hop and hover makes me nauseous, and I’m leaning towards thinking that I’m more hungry than actually tired, but being hungry puts me into “energy preservation” mode. At least I’m not going around devouring peop--.
I totally did try to snack on Hatchet, and I’m grumpy. Fuck! I’m just hangry. I need to drop my anchor so I can go to my bank and eat. But I need to set up my kitchen. But I need to find a safe private area to drop my anchor. But fucking Joe and his gods blessed watchers…
I groan loudly and obnoxiously as I open my party menu. Did anyone try to --. I stop just short of denying the requests from the triplets. Might wanna use that connection later… I don’t know what I’m doing, but supposedly there are ways. Most of them involve rituals and artifacts, but I’m a Void Walking sum biscuit. Maybe I can figure out a way to go out and get some.
“I’m a dumbass,” I snicker while scrolling through the screen of requests.
Madame Steel, and a bunch of randos who may or may not be known by other names… I think I see names I remember from Gentle Valley and Renegade Valley. I don’t see Granin, but I don’t know if he can do these things --.
How can these other people do these things? I freeze when I remember that not all cultivators are created equal. There are items and skills that let you do certain things, and some stuff you get from being a certain rank with a specific faction, but there’s a lot of requests considering I don’t really talk to anybody.
“How’d they make them?”
I pick at my lower lip as I try to figure out if my whole scale shedding problem is actually a me problem. Is there someone gathering my scales and selling them? Are there people capable of gathering my scales and keeping them stable enough to sell? Not sure if the “if you can think it someone’s done it” rule applies to this situation, but I’m kinda worried it does. For not porn. Although there’s probably that, too.
I walk back into the reception room, push into the warded and alarmed area, sit down cross-legged on the cushion, then shift into my bank. I’ll find somewhere else to dump my anchor, but for now I need to sit and have a think, and I’d rather do that over something tasty.
“I don’t have a house…” I groan before sighing as I rub my hand over my face. “Fack!”
I leave my miasma stone as a marker, will a shack of stilted bullshit, -- looks like I ripped something out of a movie about backwoods people living in a swamp, -- of just wood --. I feel fine. It’s not a lot of wood, but it came together pretty quickly and I feel fine. Usually there’s a moment of two, -- could be hours, what do I know? -- of intense concentration, visualizing, then it’s there. I immediately climb up the surprisingly sturdy board steps, noting the sturdy rickety-looking railing, braided ropes tied together in a crosshatch pattern, cliché fishing nets strewn over the rail and hanging on a wall, the shitty little rotting crates that aren’t rotting and appear to actually be part of the structure, then open the surprisingly heavy warped-board door to see more movie fishing shack nonsense.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Did I just make a stable set piece?
“It looks like shit,” I say out loud.
But it doesn’t smell like shit, which I’m taking as a bonus. Being in a drying lake bed that smells like light floral notes of an expensive, subtle perfume reminds me of the bushes I planted. A quick check of my bank list shows that there are a few that aren’t planted and won’t produce anymore, drying out somewhere, -- alchemy bitch really did steal my tea bushes, -- but I’ve still got some that are being auto-harvested.
Miasma and Qi lake, -- that sounds like an awful combination, but I should be fine. I hope. -- temporary structure --. I stop and head out, climbing down the stairs and setting up three basins, each with a mill above it, Willed to grind with one being coarse, the middle one fine, and the one furthest from shore being “mist”, -- I cackle to myself. This fucker’s going to be expensive to use. -- before un-banking my bus filet.
I tear chunks off and play basketball with the coarse mill cloud as the hoop, lobbing shots and making chopped fish all at once. I plant a couple of the starchier acting deadlier root-like mushrooms that I thought were tubers, and keep playing fish ball until they’re ready to harvest. Into the fine mill go a few of the tasty fuckers to make my paste, and now I’ve got fish and paste. I un-bank a loaf of coarse bread to use as the scoop for my meal before remembering that I don’t have any wine, fermenting or otherwise.
“Not like I don’t know where to get any,” I snark before shifting over to Alchemy’s house.
A quick resampling, -- I found a scoop hanging on the wall, so I use it instead of making a cup or drinking directly out of the poison pots, -- and I settle on a pot of bootleg Saint’s Wine. I hang the scoop back up, taking the pot with me, and sit down for a nice meal as I stare at my sturdy, ugly house.
I think I’ll just use it as a marker. I don’t want to live in it, don’t want to remake it, but it’s a nice ugly little fuck you. You thought my last wooden structure was inconvenient and impractical? How about this piece of shit? If they try to tear it down I’d love to see their faces. This place looks bad, but it is actually well put together.
“Built to last,” I mumble, continuing to eat.
But what will I do for a house? I could dig, I guess. I’m not sure why I’d want a burrow, but a cellar would be nice. A little underground house. Nice and private and they won’t have to see it which will reduce the risk of them wanting to tear it down. I can put it right under the shack.
What about a trapdoor on the inside of the shack? Someone braves the miasma and God Qi, explores, and finds a trapdoor that can’t possibly lead anywhere. Surprise! No. I should figure out how I made rules. Anyone who finds the trapdoor winds up outside in Eager Heart. I snicker and idly wonder what the bears are going to do until I let them back in. There’s a whole ass multi-suite apartment that just lost a resident --.
I didn’t loot Hatchet’s room. Wait, can I? Do I get all of her loot or just the stuff on her body? Are there provisions in place for when a member of the team dies? Am I still part of the team? Damn, I have to go to the guild to find out if I’m still part of the guild much less any group. And to find Trinity. Kinda still want him to teach the bears, although Grampa appears to be doing a good enough job. Still want Trinity to meet them.
Meal done I lay down on the lake bed, drinking just a little of the moisture out of it until it’s still moist but not actually damp, and then curl up for a quick post meal nap.
I wake up to the sound of nature being obnoxious. I never understood how hearing the sound of a dozen chatty birds, logging, and a flood was supposed to be relaxing. It’s nature! It’s sound garbage! Shrill tweets, chainsaws, trees crashing, rushing water? Relaxing natural disaster carnage sounds. Peh!
“Shut up!” I scream and swing to throw my phone, the device billowing smoke. “Oh shit!”
Is my phone on fire? I get up and race over to it, hoping it doesn’t explode, and hoping it isn’t billowing smoke. It is, but it landed in the dirt, so I start scooping dirt on it. I’m cursing about how this is going to be impossible to fix, praying that it’ll work, and wondering where the side of my apartment went. Or did I pass out outside?
Something minor wiggles at the back of my mind, a tiny little maggot of a thought, and I’m left standing, hunched over, hands dirty with rich, moist soil, squatting in a yard devoid of grass, knowing I’m missing something super important. My head snaps up and I’m looking at trees, a forest, at the edge of the cleared area, I twist around to look behind me and see a dilapidated fishing shack. Pretty sure those supports are supposed to be underwater. Not sure how the planks survive, though, usually they’re tree trunks being used as foundations, but… How are those spindly supports holding up that structure.
I pop a squat and just stare trying to figure out how the fuck this place is still standing. The support posts, there are maybe eight total, look like they’re supposed to be markers for walls, but they’re being used as supports, which can’t be what they were designed for, and no way are they not going to be sinking into the ground unless there’s a poured concrete foundation, but then they can’t hold up that building for long, regardless.
I dust my hands off and start walking to the building, bracing myself for a quick sniff of rot, fish, and stagnant water, and I’m greeted by the kind of perfume that money buys. Real money, not people pretending to have money buying some strong obnoxious, expensive literal cat piss.
I turn my head, the nagging thought telling me the “dying” lake is just a little further out of my field of vision, and see a pink froth.
“Fuck!” I startle, prepared to sprint away.
Is this deadly natural bullshit, or did they turn a lake into a bubble bath? People get stupid without alcohol. Do I have work today? I’m hoping I didn’t party this hard that I followed some jackasses to an abandoned lake and we turned some stagnant rot water into a bubble bath, and my phone was on fire wasn’t it.
“Gods, grant me --.” I pause when I realize I don’t have a hangover. “Nevermind! Thank you!”
Best not to push my luck. I start walking to check on my phone when the chaos nature sounds come from above me. I duck, twisting and looking around for speakers strung overhead, then to the shack for any megaphone looking PA speakers. Nothing.
“Would be nice to know what happened,” I say, still hunched and ready to bolt, wondering what local events are happening --
-- and I open the events window.
“Fuck off,” I put my head in my hands as it all comes rushing back to me before my head snaps up. “Wait, what the fuck was --.”
The man-made nature catastrophe sounds go off again and I dismiss the event window, fists clenched, storming out of my void --.
-- and stopping before I crash into the wards that I remember are around me so I don’t derail my “righteous fury” appearance.
“And that’s how you ring the bell,” Freckles is tiredly explaining to the bears who are all crowded around. “That’s how you do it to call management if you lose your keys or think someone broke into your room. Wasn’t sure if it’d work for Eclipsed Rainbow, but figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.”
“Wouldn’t it?” I chirp mockingly at Freckles. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but he did it.
“Did it?” Freckles eyes shoot 0pen in sudden realization that I’m not some random series of scripts and circles, so whatever he did might not just “ring bells”. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I grumble. I’m not tired but I’m over whatever this is. “What did you do?”
“I was showing them how to try to enter a warded claimed area. Usually if the claim is set up properly, but you don’t have access to your ward key, you can sort of trigger an alarm by sending Qi to the ward or lock, seeing how most of the time they’re keyed with your Qi.
“It won’t let you in directly, but usually it’ll let someone know that someone who should be around is trying to get in,” Freckles continues while waving for the bears to come to me like there’s not a ward in the way. “In the old days people would break into warded spaces with Qi they’d siphoned or collected, so now it just lets someone know that someone without a key is attempting to gain entry.”
“Good to know,” I slump while glaring defiantly at the bears.
Why am I using my eyes? I pan out so I have a better view, -- did I turn Omnivision off on accident? That’s a thing? -- and shift my vision around to see that I’m just standing slumped with the most punchable pout. Fack, I look like I need to get my ass kicked. I honestly look like some spoiled princess who fucked up big, got chastised instead of put in jail, and my super lenient parents are gonna help bail me out again.
Fack.
“Stay away from the lake,” I grumble, banking the bears with a wave. I sigh and turn to Freckles, -- still pouting --. Fack! -- and try to stand up straight and clear my expression. “I didn’t set up whatever they’re doing, it came up as I was sleeping. What else can you do when you rent a spatial area?”
“I guess you never had to if you’ve got an artifact to do it for you,” Freckles says thoughtfully.
I go to correct him before looking around the room. There’s no one here except Nate standing across the room facing the corner. Did he literally put himself in time-out or --.
“Why’s Nate standing in the corner?” I ask Freckles while pointing to the corner in question.
“Hmm?” Freckles looks at Nate, then scans for anyone else. Right, his name isn’t actually Nate. “Do you mean Running River? He’s probably taking measurements to see if the space is expanding or shifting.”
“I’m gonna need to know everything that changed in my sleep in case I accidentally-ed a lake of Black Blood Wine somewhere,” I sigh while rubbing the bridge of my nose with both hands.
“Running River!” Freckles shouts, going pale and sprinting to Nate.
Wonder what happened to Joe?