Suzette smiled as she poured two more ales from the keg, "Who needs a refill?" Two players who had just entered the tavern reached for them.
"We heard this is on the house."
"Well of course it is! It's Mr. Brandon's tavern and I hear you are all celebrating a big victory! I'll keep serving up the ale as long as it lasts. Does anyone else need a refill?" Suzette had been pouring ale for the remaining people fighting for Famco since they returned from the fight.
Those left here to guard were a bit miffed over missing out. Two Tier 2 daemons gave out a nice chunk of Enhancement Points and experience, along with some nice bits of treasure. Brandon had quelled the grumbling, pointing out they were here to win a war, not kill daemons. He also pointed out that ten people had died fighting the daemons. "The people that stayed here did their job. You guarded the objectives and didn't go galivanting around town. Trust me, there’ll be a little something extra for you after we win. Famco rewards loyalty. That mollified them, as did the cute barmaid who started making the rounds handing out beer and food.
Brandon grabbed one of the little meat pies off the tray and urged the rest of the tavern and dungeon guards to get food. "Eat up, have some beer, then this crew will get some rest. The 'Daemonslayers' can take the next eight hours while all of us get some shut-eye." A reckoning was coming with 'Sir Timothy' and Brandon wanted people to remember who was handing out the cash at the end of the war.
Timmy was celebrating killing a daemon, finishing a special Paladin quest, and having two arms again. He went up to get another tankard of ale from Suzette and talk to her. He still felt a bit bad about what had happened.
"Oh, Sir Timothy, your tankard is empty again. We can't have that! You were so brave tonight!" The barmaid's smile was the same, but something about her eyes was different. Like she wasn't really there.
"Thank you, Suzette. Are you...are you feeling ok? I know this is a lot of work, and you're really taking care of us after this fight."
She smiled the same smile as before, "Oh, I feel great. It's a lot of work, but this is my job now, and I love it. I want to make sure everyone is taken care of. Especially you and Mr. Brandon. After all, you're the people keeping the town safe now. I heard you killed both of those horrible daemons."
She paused and looked a bit puzzled, "I don't think I like daemons. I remember one killed me once."
"But I got better and now it's all fine!" Her smile was back, "Would you like another meat muffin? I made them special!"
Timmy was a little sad. She'd been different before. He patted her hand, "Sure, they're really tasty. Glad you're here keeping us fed."
"Oh, I'll always be here, Sir Timothy. Forever." She handed him a meat muffin and refilled his ale. Then called out again to see who else needed a refill.
It was good ale. Pretty potent stuff, and very tasty. There were hints of berry and mint in the flavor.
=*=
General Themis had taken off her armor and her boots, and was sitting next to the roaring fire in the basement bar of the little fortress where the workers lived. She was impressed as hell. She knew when ACME had taken over this town and hadn't expected much beyond a wall around some huts.
What she found was a small functional keep. The walls were thick and buttressed. They had their own water source and the basement was heaped with food. Mostly groats, vegetables, honey, and barrels of smoked meat, but they took things seriously. They could last out a siege in this place.
The bar was delightful. Simple and homey, like an old army outpost. The old stonework was cleaned up and the woodwork was polished. Thick rafters over head held braziers with candles. They had several kegs on tap behind a bar that had been carved from a single tree. A couple dozen of the local workers were down here drinking, playing darts, or gambling for copper pieces. It was a nice place to relax after a fight.
She expected it wouldn’t last; not in this town. For tonight though, she planned to relax - and to talk to Jorges about his siege machines. She had been quite surprised when they walked past three bolt throwers and two catapults. He happily showed her how he had adapted plans from old Roman versions and made some improvements on them. She was going to test them against what the Legion was currently using. His versions might just be a bit better.
=*=
Bennie the Necrobunny surveyed his troops. He had raised every corpse in the bunny meadow that he could reach. Some were just too decayed or buried too deep. The flowing river of dark mana invigorated him, and he wanted to take advantage of it, "Come, my lapine horde! We march to the source of the power and we will drink deeply!"
And that's just what they did. Four hundred dead rabbits followed their leader fearlessly as he marched them up the road. The horde absorbed the dark mana as they advanced. When they reached the head waters of the black river, he had them spread out and soak up every last bit of it. More flowed out of the city and woods, but there were a lot of dead bunnies.
A slow change started. First the zombie fat rabbits quickly lost their bulk and turned into skeletons. Then the skeletal bunnies started to glow with a sickly green light; it filled their eyes and where their hearts would be, and moved along their bones, strengthening them. The ones who grew the brightest suddenly woke up, thoughts entering their heads. Not many thoughts - mostly 'kill', 'eat', and 'brainz'. But it was enough that Bennie finally had some help in the thinking department.
"We will stay here until just before sunrise. The magic will slacken, and we will be strong. So Strong!! We attack at dawn and will seize what should be ours!" He didn't get much of a cheer out of them, but at least more of them were saying 'brainz' than 'grazzz' now. It was a start.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
=*=
"Your terrible Majesty, we have word from the clever one. The flow has stopped! We have stored all that we can. Your legions are ready!!
The Under Rodent smiled. Time to let the new Dungeon Keeper find out what happened when you neglected your job. She was quite disappointed in him.
"Tell the clever one we begin. Run quickly," One of her massive paws picked up a barrel of dark mana and held it over a pulsing crystal set into the floor in front of her throne. She squeezed and the barrel broke, pouring dark mana over the crystal. Over and over she did this until the crystal could absorb no more - and it shattered. The entire dungeon rumbled. Some of her minions cried in fear, but most were overjoyed. It wasn't every day that your dungeon home leveled up.
=*=
Sir Timothy was actually getting drunk. Like many Paladins, he had a skill to resist poison, but he'd been working hard at celebrating. It was almost dawn - he should probably get some sleep. Brandon was being a dick and had assigned his Daemon Slayers to guard duty all day. But screw that. They'd all need some time to sleep off this party. Many of them were already passed out. Hell, David had just now fallen over and was laying on the floor.
He was anxious to level up to Tier 2, but that wasn't something you did while drunk; too easy to miss something important. He was really proud of his character sheet. He'd gotten to 10 in both STR and in CHA. He knew that was a big bonus once he leveled. He'd put a ton of Enhancement Points into his special skills and resistances.
Resistances took a bit. Most started as tertiary skills and were hard to level up. He and his small crew had worked on disease resistance by trying to pick up any pox or chill they could. People had been very confused when his group would stop to hug a beggar with a runny nose, or a peasant who had whooping cough. He was up to level 2 in that skill. Poison resistance was level 2, nearly level 3. He was hoping all this alcohol would help out.
So strange - when had his poison resistance made it all the way to level 4? When had he gained another 25 experience?
He looked around the room at the strangely quiet players. Only a couple were still moving. Even as he watched, two of them faded away, dead.
"Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit," He staggered upright. He had a horrible suspicion. Suzette was walking over to him, "Goodness, you boys are so tired out. I guess Daemon Slayers can sleep where they want, but it's so much cozier in bed. Here, let me get you another ale, Sir Timothy."
Timmy grabbed her arm. "The beer. What's in the beer? Tell me!"
The barmaid looked confused, "Why, I assume the same things that goes into most beer. You know? Yeast, hops, malt, water. That stuff probably had some berries for flavoring."
Timmy stared from her to the beer, "I thought you made all the beer?"
She shook her head and smiled, "Oh no, Sir Timothy, I haven't had time, not with crying myself to death and coming back and all. I got this beer from the basement."
"But why did you call it 'Victory Brew'?"
The barmaid led him down to the basement. He saw that the guards at the dungeon entrance were passed out. "Because that's what it said, silly man. See?"
Timmy looked at the two barrels. The hoops were rusty and the wood looked rough. Not nearly as well made as the other barrels in the basement. On the side and tops of each barrel, painted in red paint, were sloppy letters.
'Viktry! Breu'
Suzette handed him a note, "This was sitting here. Wasn't that nice of someone?"
'Viktry Brue. Good stuff. Selebrate Viktry.'
Timmy felt very ill for several reasons. He had to find Brandon. He staggered down the room outiside the dungeon where he thought he was sleeping. He didn't notice Suzette walk back up the stairs, spring out the door of the tavern, and skip all the way to the barracks.
The sun was coming up, good things were happening, and she felt pretty!
Local Event: Dungeon Break!
The dungeon keeper has been asleep and the Under Rodent will make him weep!
The town of Sedgewick has been invaded by all manner of rats, weasels, and bunny-themed monsters! There are experience, Treasure, and horrible deaths for everyone!
Come join in the fun!
Success: Special Prizes! T-shirts! experience! The dungeon is pushed back where it belongs.
Failure: The Under Rodent takes control of the town and Rat-kin becomes a playable race. (And anyone on the losing side will be playing one. Hope you like cheese.)
The Lair of the Under Rodent sponsored by Bludgeon Dark has grown and is now a Level 2 Dungeon.
Famco. Casulties Report
Killed in battle with a Daemon: 4
Killed while in battle with a Daemon in friendly fire accident: 6
Died from alcohol poisoning: 4
Obviously succumbed to injuries from fighting Daemons: 2
Fell down and hit head: 3
Ate too much pie while drinking: 4
Big Penalty: Failure as a Dungeon Keeper, which allowed the dungeon to over-flow, triggering a dungeon break, dungeon level up, and invasion of town....and got caught. If you are going to do things that lead to monsters invading a town, you don't want to get caught.
Current Famco. forces: 13
ACME Report
Quiet night, no deaths. One bruised butterfly. (Very painful, don't laugh, this is serious!)