Benjamin – Alpha Zone #193 Level 1 – 20
Now I know what your thinking.
But Ben! Why are your running away in search of wood like a beaver? And why are you wasting precious moments of potential siegery doing it when the timer says you only have 29 minutes and 48 seconds left !?
I’m so very glad you asked…
Given that my dimensional pocket’s initial dimension of a stadium has already been filled with miscellaneous crap like siphon loot and gathered materials from monsters and the environment, I would naturally be bereft of sufficient storage space.
However.
What all of me have neglected to point out thus far is that my wisdom attribute has effectively doubled its size, giving me an extra stadium to play with.
Another thing is that I have briefly experimented with just how big one item can be when put into the pocket. Turns out… I have yet to find that answer…
So for now, ‘pretty fucking big’ is a safe conservative guestimate.
So as one of me gets out:
Fol-Aun-Tau’s Sword of Cleaving (2handed)
Level Requirement: 99
Attributes: Melee Damage + 281 - 363, + 54 Strength, +92% Damage to all physical skills.
Durability: 604/604
Description: A synthesized replica of the notorious berserker Fol-Aun-Tau’s feared weapon, inscribed with journeyman offensive runes and journeyman empowerment. A randomly generated yet rare magical item rewarded to Benjamin for successful participation in the cleansing of Dimensional Siphon#905.
And equips it.
Another me starts to sing a certain English lumberjack song, as deforestation in my immediate area sees a rapid increase.
Once the cries of displaced birdlife and tree limbs crashing on top of one another has died down, a me stows my [Fol-Aun-Tau’s Sword of Cleaving] before as one, I make haste to the sight of my impending conquest.
Coming to the clearing edge one of me slows to find that there was a rally of some sort taking place near the arched entrance I had not too long ago tried to enter.
The cheering went on for another twenty seconds or so before I collectively decided whatever was taking place was irrelevant, walking clear of the tree line so that one of me could announce my return.
However as such things go, some attentive dingbat spoiled the moment as he cried out and caused the cheering to cease.
“Look there! At the edge of the jungle!”
More than a little shitty at having my thunder stolen, one of me elects to employ the tactic the arrow happy guard had used, by utilizing my enhanced vocal cords to their fullest.
“PEOPLE OF OUTPOST #846! I HAVE COME TO CONQUER THIS OUTPOST AND CLAIM IT AS MY OWN! I NOW OFFER YOU THE CHANCE TO VACATE PEACEFULLY, SO THAT THERE WILL BE NO NEEDLESS CASUALTIES!”
Genuinely impressed at the decibels a me is pumping out, the mind leans into the delivery as it continues.
“THOSE OF YOU WHO TAKE UP ARMS AGAINST ME WILL BE MARKED AS MY ENEMY AND TREATED ACCORDINGLY. THOSE WHO WISH TO RESETTLE AFTER I HAVE TAKEN THE OUTPOST ARE FREE TO DO SO EXCEPT FOR THE COUNCIL AND THEIR MERCHANT’S, THOSE GUYS CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF!”
‘Dammit Ben! Don’t be petty! Stay on target STAY ON TARGET!’ mind two gripes internally before mind one continues.
“Ahem…I WILL GIVE YOU FIVE MINUTES TO COLLECT YOUR THINGS AND EVACUATE…….STARTING RIGHT NOW!”
So it turns out, that apparently my display of force hadn’t been enough because they begin to get a little uppity by way of jeering.
“WE ARE NOT AFRAID OF YOU FREAK!”
“GET OUT OF HERE CRIMINAL SCUM!”
“WE DON’T WANT YOUR KIND HERE, MONSTER!”
“WE’RE NOT SCARED OF YOU ASSHOLE!”
On and on it goes as they nonsensically waste their precious fleeing time by continuing to use slurs that pale in comparison to what I’m used to on non system enhanced earth. At this collective shit nugget of a realization, a smile begins to make itself known on my face.
After a few more seconds of pointless slander, a slender Asian man in a white robes walks forward and raises his hands to placate the haranguers. This done, he turns to me and states in a frankly unimpressive raised voice.
“FIRST OF ALL YOUNG MAN, I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU THINK YOU ARE PLAYING AT, BUT THIS IS OUR HOME AND YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO CLAIM ANYTHING YOU SEE BEFORE YOU!”
Pausing for dramatic effect he continues.
“SECONDLY YOU ARE BUT ONE MAN AND WE ARE MANY, PLEASE STOP EMBARASING YOURSELF AND SURRENDER TO FACE THE PEOPLE’S JUSTICE FOR YOUR CRIMES OF THEIVERY AND MURDER!”
Trying not to laugh at his obvious bluff a me counters.
“THREE MINUTES!”
This seemed to anger the robed man greatly as he spins to those gathered behind him as he demands red faced.
“HE HAS CLEARLY LOST HIS MIND, IF WE LEAVE HIM OUT THERE WHO KNOWS WHO ELSE MIGHT FALL PREY TO HIS WICKEDNESS! GUARDS, CUT HIM DOWN!”
In response, people clad in leather armor and cloth robes walk onto the Outposts ramp to take up a single line formation. They would have managed it in near military precision too…if it weren’t for the fact that some of them keep looking to the angry robed individual as if to question him.
Evidently an asshole of the impatient variety, he cracks the shits and snaps at them.
“WHAT ARE YOU STILL LOOKING AT ME FOR YOU IMBECILES? FIRE!”
I watch unperturbed as the mixture of physical and magical projectiles streak toward me in a fantastical display of force. Yet given the projectiles I’m used to dealing with, their traversal of the clearing is pedestrian at best.
So as the languidly in flight spells and arrows near me, a me douses their supposed supremacy of numbers by way of pointless theatricality.
Raising my arm and extending it palm outwards, a mind casts a maximum increase [Lesser Field of Gravity Manipulation] and revels in the collective reactions of shock and disbelief as their attacks thud into the earth before me.
Given that merely removing their attack will likely not be enough of a deterrent based off previous experience, all of me figure it’s time to give the occupants an entrée of what was about to be unleashed as a me yells.
“SUPRESSING FIIIIRRRRE!”
While yelling my battle cry with one mind another opens a small aperture termini for my [Lesser Dimensional pocket] in front of my hand and points it at the attackers.
One of my minds focused on the part of the pocket where I’ve stored the formidable collection of straight branches I’ve recently procured and selects forty of them. Forming them up in sub space procession of sorts, it wills them to exit the pocket at the highest velocity they can high velocity the skill will allow, one after a screaming other.
With my remaining free mind, as soon as a branch is whizzing clear of the pockets termini, it casts a maximum [Lesser Repulse] on the already airborne bit of tree. Mind one that was in charge of target acquisition, watches with a little too much glee as the projectile wood shrieks through the air and combusts before finding its first target.
The unfortunate and terrified staff wielder of islander decent, ends in an explosion of flame and gore before the mostly incinerated bit of wood continues unhindered, to thud into the blue simmering barrier behind. The other similarly incendiary bits of ex foliage haphazardly find their mark and a short montage of flaming exploding people ensues.
As the triumvirate finishes small projectile’d barrage of death and my erstwhile attackers lay in fiery tatters where they once stood. The barrier continues to shimmer in front of the Outpost protectively.
A few of me begin to wonder if I’ve done the right thing…right up until a notification affirms that I am indeed on the right track and living my most authentic lives:
You have slain Apprentice Mage level 27, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
…
You have slain Apprentice Woddswoman level 24, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
….
You have slain Apprentice Archer level 25, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
…..
You have slain Apprentice Mage level 26, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
Outpost #846’s Defensive Shield integrity: 93%
Thankfully it seems I’ve correctly conveyed my meaning to the noncombatants, by way of them running screaming and crying from the Outposts entry arch. Unfortunately they fail to take a sizeable amount of armed individuals and three white robed official types who, while looking decidedly peaky, remain persistent in their continued presence.
As one of me posits that they still might turn tail and run, one of the remaining guards goes all William Wallace on me in a bloody American accent.
“ALRIGHT YOU LOT! MOST OF YOU KNOW ME AND I KNOW MOST OF YOU! SOME OF THEM THAT JUST GOT SNUFFED OUT ON THE RAMP WERE GOOD PEOPLE!
“I AINT NO HERO OR NOTHIN BUT RIGHT BEHIND US IS ALL WE GOT LEFT IN THIS STINKIN WORLD!”
“AND I FOR ONE AINT GONNA GIVE IT UP WITH OUT A FIGHT! WORST CASE WE CAN BUY OTHER PEOPLE TIME TO GET THE HELL OUTA DODGE AFTER THIS PSYCHO BREAKS THROUGH! WHO THE FUCK IS WITH ME?!?”
One of me shakes my head in disappointment at the misplaced allegiance of the man, as another of me elects to hold off on further action in lieu of sticking to my original time frame of five minutes for the civilians to get clear. But far more importantly, to continue to remain true to my word.
Yet, if all of me are being completely candid, given how effective those sticks were, we have no idea if I can reasonably contain the collateral of what is to come.
As time drags on and it’s getting down to the minute and a half mark. I was about to issue another warning when my mind still on danger watch alerts me to the clank of armor and the rasp of weapons being drawn behind me.
On the one hand a few of me were angry that they’ve employed another sneaky avenue of attack, yet a more homicidal me is just glad for something to kill some time. So when I hear the first *Twang* of a bow releasing an arrow, mind one and two take me to the culprit as the airs rent by my passing once more.
Going from one assailant to the next, I’m genuinely dismayed at the lack of resistance they provide to my fist, whilst it plows through their formidable looking armor:
You have slain Apprentice Man At Arms level 42, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
Parasitic Mutator trait activated, do you wish to absorb the One With The Crowd trait y/n? 4 minutes 59 seconds remaining.
...
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You have slain Apprentice Archer level 39, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
Parasitic Mutator trait activated, do you wish to absorb the Nimble trait y/n? 4 minutes 59 seconds remaining.
....
You have slain Apprentice Spearman level 46, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
Parasitic Mutator trait activated, do you wish to absorb the Shrewd trait y/n? 4 minutes 59 seconds remaining.
As I swiftly put the last of them out of their burgeoning terror and a mind is finished hastily declining the string of lackluster traits on offer. One of me wonders why they would try to threaten me if this was the best defense the governing body of the Outpost could provide.
Don’t get me’s wrong, I knew I was strong, but somewhere along the way I seem to have taken to rating my strength to the monsters of the new world, rather than the petty people that still inhabit its fringes.
Electing to stow the existential musings for later, one of me turns to the Outpost as my [Robe of The Oltomath] dripped with my assailants blood as it announces.
“AAAANNNND THAT’S TIME! I PROMISE TO TRY AND MAKE THIS TRANSITION IN MANAGEMENT AS PAINLESS AS POSSIBLE.”
Getting down to business, one of me opens the terminus of my [Lesser Dimensional Pocket] to as wide as the trunk of one of the trees I’ve recently felled.
All of me still aren’t quite certain what will actually happen as opposed to what we’ve planned for, regardless, one of me elects to fully succumb to my inner anime nerd for my opening salvo.
“I AM THE ROOT OF MY WOOD!”
Similar to the branches before, yet orders of magnitude larger, mind one orients the trunk of wood, whilst mind two edges out the tip before willing its ridiculous acceleration before mind three hit it’s behind with a Maximum [Lesser Repulse].
As the blur of wood combusts mid flight and pounds into the translucent blue defensive barrier with an earth quaking *BOOM* my balls began to tingle from my whole body goosebumps at the destructive power all of me have managed to unleash.
The system seems in agreement with my unqualified opinion as it’s notification educatively chimes in:
Outpost #846’s Defensive Shield integrity: 72%
Electing to demoralize the people who have had their brainwashed minions try to rob, imprison and murder me, one of me forsakes all reasonable discourse, beginning to show boat a little more.
“TREMBLE BEFORE MY ENORMOUS SHAFT!”
With the triumvirate working in seamless tandem, the next egregious bit of lumber shrieks whilst igniting, on it’s way toward the blue dome and its remaining defenders. The projectile releases a slew of ignited timber shards and manages to enlighten the whole clearing with an explosion of flame as it *BOOM*’s on impact:
Outpost #846’s Defensive Shield integrity: 50%
I looked on and my minds are awash with a mixture of relief and satisfaction, as more of the remaining defenders that have been cowering behind the Outpost’s transparent defense, turn tail to leg it for less inflamed pastures.
While one of me witnesses people start to exit the Outposts other points of egress another me endeavors to break the slivers of moral that apparently remain of the Outposts stalwart forces as it announces jubilantly.
“YEP! THAT’S DEFINITELY WOOD!”
Right before the triumvirate diligently readies, releases and accelerates the next titanic and now flaming projectile, leading to another *BOOM* being released to shake the area with its explosive impact. This next impact lights my face and its plastered smile, akin to that of a child who has just discovered the joy of backyard fireworks as the smell of ash and sulfur fills my nose anew:
Outpost #846’s Defensive Shield integrity: 29%
Judging by the remaining percentage and the now orange color of the Outpost’s shield that releases a *OOOOORRROOO* sound in protest at its worsening state, the siege seems to be coming to a close.
As one of me notes the hurried processions of people were fleeing out the other arches has almost reached the surrounding gigantic jungles edge. Another me praises the great and beneficent noodles that are besauced in their meaty goodness in heaven as the last me confirms and all but one of the defenders have fled my assault.
A small part of me wonders if I should take a less flashy approach to finish things off, but then I remembered the hole in the back of my once pristine robe.
One of me yells while doing an amateurish attempt at a rumba.
“FEELING HOT HOT HOT!”
Unflinchingly the triumvirate propels the ex-tree with deadly precision enabling it to rend the air with its fiery passage and explode on the faltering shield:
Outpost #846’s Defensive Shield integrity: 7%
The notification informed me that although the shield was now red and the clearing had been pocked and sundered by the fall out of my efforts, my work was in fact incomplete.
Seeing the exodus of individuals from the other entrances had finally completed, all of me turned our attention to the lone audience member that has persisted in his collapsed vigil.
Unanimously voting to give him the levity and end to suffering that my tormentors refused me time after time, one of me bellows.
“IT’S JUST THE TIP I SWEAR!”
Near simultaneously me myself and I loose the final incendiary missile toward the now all but vacated Outpost. The barrier finally acquiescing to my magically fueled remonstrations.
The resulting impact shatters it into motes of red mote of light whilst the boom of the explosion washes inward to release the lone defender of his misplaced allegiance:
You have slain Apprentice Knight level 19, no experience awarded due to level disparity.
Quest: Conquer Outpost #846 – Updated
Duration: 18 minutes 31 seconds
Description: Claim or Raze Outpost #846 by accessing the central HUB
Rewards: Varies based on contribution.
Universally relieved at the system reassuring me that my unorthodox means of attack had counted toward the quest, I let mind one and two navigate me in a blur toward the central HUB of the slightly overdone Outpost, lest someone else beat me to it.
Once inside the vacant white dome of a building, I scratch my head as I collectively wonder what the fuck I have to do next.
Remembering that I saw an Upgrade option on one of the pokie looking machines before I was accosted by suit guy, I sit in one of the corridors empty stools and tap my finger on the blank screen:
Congratulations Elevant!
You and or your army has successfully Conquered this Outpost, Please select one of the following:
>Claim – Become the Administrator or Administrators of Outpost #846, requires an initial investment of 36,257 Manamotes to repair damage done to its structures and Defensive grid.
>Raze – Disintegrate Outpost #846 and receive remuneration equal to 13,743 Manamotes + Total sum of Manamotes invested by the previous inhabitants.
Mulling over my options briefly, all of me recognized my choice was already made by reason of having done what I’ve in the first place.
Selecting ‘Claim’ I feel a minute drain on the place where the devious merchant had inspected me without my explicit consent, and am subsequently rewarded with a notification:
Congratulations on completing the quest ‘Conquer Outpost #846’, You have been awarded control of Outpost #846.
You have acquired the title of One Elevant Army I (Rare) for conquering an Outpost whilst alone.
Grinning at the new title, a mind wills away the notifications whilst also ignoring the flash of light from outside that was no doubt the Outposts structures being magically repaired, before going went to the terminal to see what perks the title of administrator entails:
Outpost #846 – Terminal #76
>Information
>Shop
>Auction House
>Quests
>Item Repair
>Item Manamote Extraction
>Outpost Communication
>Outpost Upgrade & Maintenance
Collectively nonplussed at the lack of change in the terminals original menu, one of me forestalls my budding annoyance at being jipped by way of selecting ‘Outpost Upgrade & Maintenance’.
Outpost Upgrade & Maintenance:
>Repair Outpost – 19,071 Manamotes
>Upgrade Outpost Wall & Defensive Shield II – 50,000 Manamotes
>Upgrade Habitation Unit Amenities II – 50,000 Manamotes
>Upgrade Habitation Unit Internal Dimensions II – 50,000 Manamotes
>Upgrade Outpost HUB II – 50,000 Manamotes
>Upgrade Blacksmith’s Forge II – 50,000 Manamotes
>Upgrade Tanners Hall II – 50,000 Manamotes
>Upgrade Tailors Hall II – 50,000 Manamotes
>Manifest Alchemist Laboratory I – 15,000 Manamotes
>Manifest Enchanters Scriptorium I – 15,000 Manamotes
>Manifest Merchant Storefront’s I – 25,000 Manamotes
>Upgrade Outpost to Settlement – 250,000 Manamotes
>Upgrade Outpost to City – 5,000,000 Manamotes
>Upgrade Outpost to Capital – 25,000,000 Manamotes
>Upgrade Outpost to Citadel – 50,000,000 Manamotes
My triplicated mood improves rapidly as a mind reads down the submenu’s options, barely even rustled at the lack of the previous occupants level of investment.
Indeed, things are looking aces…right up until it gets to the last menu item.
Fifty farking million!
Like a junk food indoctrinated youth who is not sure if they should spend all their saved pocket money on the supersized meal they have been fantasizing about for months, a mind swiftly checks my manamote total:
Total Manamotes: 55,426,901
Crossroads time.
Are all of me all in?
Is this our new home?
Considering I took the thing by force and no matter where I roam people try to trick me, rob me or kill me, why should I not build a ‘Citadel’ in place of their old abode?
The Triumvirate is in agreement.
This shall be home.
It shall be mine.
Selecting ‘Upgrade Outpost to Citadel’ earns a new prompt on the screen of the not-pokie in front of me:
Please select the name of your Citadel.
One of me smiles as whimsy takes the triumvirate whilst another me mentally imparts ‘Keep Out’. However another blue box demands yet more of me's:
Construction of a Citadel Requires that you dedicate your Citadel to the faction of your choice.
Please declare the name of your Faction.
Being the first time I’ve heard anything about a faction, I collectively wonder If I should just go with a cheaper option and save all the hassle. But like a person promised to win a motor home or a gaming rig if they just hand over their personal details. the promise of awesomeness is there before me and all I have to do is commit to a faction!
Wait a second… Why don’t I just put in whatever now and change it at a later date?...
The three of me agree that my brilliance is unparalleled and a mind inputs ‘NFA’ for my faction only to be countered with a new blue box of marketing like persistence:
Faction does not exist, do you wish to establish the Faction ‘NFA’ for the establishment fee of 5,000,000 Manamotes y/n ?
My eyes bulge involuntarily at the way the system seems intent to fleece me like the man from the taxation office.
Still, all of me are so close to a consumerism driven rush of apocalyptic proportions that we can’t not select ‘yes’.
Once done, what I recognize as my dimensional sense tells me’s I’m being moved somewhere as blue and whiteish light envelopes me.