The tour was… well, kind of impressive, I’m almost ashamed to admit.
I hadn’t really taken it in at the time, no more than a passive intake of relevant information, but now that we were going through it, the thick, rustic stone of the medieval-style building possessed an odd quality. It told me that it had stood for centuries and would stand through whatever would come, apocalypse or not. It seemed to exist outside of time, stuck in perpetual limbo between timeless and timeworn.
The modern glass and steel accompanying it added a jagged, unsettling contrast, an alien intrusion into an ancient world. A species made of glass, itself trying to seek the secrets of immortality by attaching itself to its ancient brother.
The smell of ancient wine, old stone, and clean metal was almost unnoticeable at first but it creeped in slowly and deeper into you. One sniff, nothing, then the next your nose was filled with it, then a third and it had always been there. I stopped as the smell sank further in, and fully disappeared. Weird. This whole place was weird.
Morrigan didn’t stop walking and so I continued to follow him deeper into the winery.
The weight of the stone deepened around us and a sense of unease crept its way through my spine. The mix of old and new seemed to blend everything. I noticed that my feet had lost track of the distance we had traveled. A bit unsettling, but, to be fair, I also wasn’t actually paying that much attention.
It was just us two at this point, he took opportunities during the tour to send his entourage off on seemingly random tasks. I couldn’t really tell what was real or if it was just busy work, I had no experience with winery stuff and apparently ‘Morrigan’ was some old money name too boot. The only thing I knew less about than wine, was old wine. I mean, I don’t know plenty of shit but it’s an example alright? Just accept it.
“Has the winery been in your family a long time?”
He laughed, not unfriendly, “No no, it was something my mother fancied, but my father never cared for it. After she died, I ended up being able to keep it as my ‘California Retreat’.”
I raised my eyebrow, “You just… used this as a retreat? That’s it?”
He smirked, “That’d have been a waste of money, it was fully functional of course. Tours, tastings, functionally a hotel as well as a personal retreat. Here’s a resting room if you’d like to freshen yourself and rest for a few hours.”
I eyed him, he shamelessly grinned back in perfect upper-crust white, “Do you not want to rest? I hope you don’t mind my presumption.”
I kind of did, but it also kind of made it better than having to negotiate my stay otherwise. Still, Lena’s lesson stayed in my head, I’d always be at a disadvantage as a solo traveler.
“As long as you don’t expect me to fuck you… or vice versa. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a good looking dude, but I have a girlfriend.”
He laughed, a real one this time, “Honestly refreshing. Nothing like that, we are having a fire tonight at sunset, if you’d like to join. We can discuss business after.”
“Sure… as long as business isn’t giving me the business then that’s fine.” I wasn’t trying to be homophobic, but I’d rather be a bit rude at the outset than find myself in… a compromised position later on. Lena’s warning perhaps kept me a bit too paranoid. It’s not being paranoid if you’re actually being follow though, is it?
A wide smile reflected in his eyes, “Should I send someone by to get you before then?”
“No,” I held up my watch, “I have an alarm.”
“It’s at six-fifteen. I’ll send someone by a little before then.”
I nodded, whatever, and checked my watch. It was 2:15 now. I wanted to nap more than I wanted to shower. He departed and I entered the room. I looked around, ah… what was the word… parlor! That was it. It reminded me of one of those old-timey parlors. Two couches faced each other with a long wooden coffee table between them. A bookshelf lined on one side with a long bar on the opposite. Near the windows was a laying couch… a fainting couch! Damn I’m good.
The fainting couch looked… pretty damn good. I was getting sleepy just looking at it. I kinda always wanted to pass out on one of those, a real luxurious vintage-style nap. Damn that was sounding better and better. I opened one of the doors and found an empty coat closet. Having done the minimum looking required for a place to freshen up, I sat on the fainting couch, then laid on it. My eyes shot open and I got up to lock the door and set my watch to wake me up at 5:45.
Then I took off my backpack and laid back again. I got up and dragged the fainting couch over as it protested it being moved from its ancestral spot before setting it against the door. Then I laid back down and passed out.
Well, almost. There was one thing I wanted to handle first.
“Display Status.”
Doubting Thomas
Class: Ghetto Hedge Knight
Rank: Above Average Human!
Level 6/20
*Knightley Duties
Earned Feats:
Bonus Feats:
Unspent
Feat
Points: 6! +15 21!
Body
7+ 9!
The Strength of your Body.
Fight and Rage: 1
Feline Bane: 1
Cat Shepard: 1
*Keep walkin’ son: 1
*Shield of Ontiveros: 1
Mind
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.
7+ 10!
The Strength of your Mind.
Trap n Burn: 1
Distract the Doggos: 1
*Looks shadily around, whispers, I gotta plan: 1
*Man with a plan: 1
*Contact: 1
Soul
7+ 9!
The Strength of your Soul.
Mercy on a Poor Soul: 1
Zomboi: 1
*Heart of Ontiveros: 1
*They Count on You: 1
*Good Boy: 1
External Will
5+ 8!
The inner spark of Man manifest, the Will to Shape Reality
I’d rather Die than Lose: 1
*Improvised Defense: 1
*Clever boy: 1
*Friends in low places: 1
Internal Fortitude
7+ 11!
11/11
How do you carry on when all is lost?
Tis but a scratch: 1
Found a Reason: 1
*Thou Shalt Not Pass!: 1
*Down but not out: 1
*Excuse me… That’s Mine!: 1
Back from the Brink: 1
*Delayed Gratification*
Divine Spark
0
Do you believe in miracles now, heathen?
Your little stunt with the Ontiverians would have been enough. Before. Heathens gotta work much harder than that.
Luck
7+ 8!
To clarify, Humanity has an average luck of 20. Losing His Favor was your choice but regardless, you can't call that 'good' luck. Humanity’s luck reset to (0)
*Make your own luck: 1
Right Lady, Wrong Time: 1
Fortunate Son: 1
MisFire: 1
Potentiality
-9.94 →
-9.97!
Ranges between (-10 and 10). Losing Status as Most Favored is pretty bad on a potentiality curve, don't tell me that surprises you?
I skimmed over the page and sighed. Dammit, I was hoping to keep it balanced but it had gotten all out of whack again. Figures it wouldn’t be too easy to do life-or-death Feats. Regarding those, I would inquire about them later, when I wasn’t so damned tired. Maybe just a quick look.
So the Miracle thing was… possible? There was a lot of potentiality just in the word, miracles. Still, whatever else, until I had one, thinking about it was objectively a waste of time. Speaking of Potentiality, what the hell? Mine went down? I’d last checked it before the fight with the Mortician… and I imagined that wasn’t great. But the fact that it had gone back up and I was here… well, I’d have to keep my eyes open.
I sighed as my eyes settled on ‘Contact!’, ‘Friends in Low Places’, and “Delayed Gratification” as the stinging burn swept over a big portion of my lower back and lengthwise along my bicep. I rubbed both areas, more in the memory of the pain than any lingering feeling, what the hell was the deal with the Bonus Feats?!
Still, 21 Feat Points sounded damn juicy. Seeing the asterisks next to each Feat was incredibly annoying, tingling my RPG-itch. I hated the ‘read about everything in the world instead of playing the game’ part of in game journals. Even worse when there was a sassy-shithead on the other end.
Wait, why didn’t I get a point for ‘Delayed Gratification’?
I’m getting real tired of all this obfuscated bullshit. I mean, I either have to guess, do… math, or some dark twisted combination of the two every single time I want to check my status? Maybe I’d take a break from the Penitent bullshit for a little while.
Ugh, exhausted and annoyed; grudgingly, my eyes closed.
----------------------------------------
I felt myself shake awake in a blur, “what the hell?”
It took a few moments for my head to settle. My watch read 4:45.
Isn’t it a bit early?
“Are we leaving now? Isn’t it a bit early?” Shit I was tired, I almost fell back asleep in the new silence, then a faint voice came through, a woman saying… ‘idiot’ something.
“What do you want?”
A bit of silence, but then a man’s, though I couldn’t tell if it was the door or my tiredness that was muffling it, “Ah yes, sincerest apologies. Be back later.”
The door closed fully.
“Don’t worry about it,” I passed back out again.
----------------------------------------
My alarm went off and I couldn’t get myself up. I rolled off and the threat of imminent face-impact was enough to do the job. At the last second I caught myself in a groan.
There was a knock.
6:05.
Damn, I took a while to drag myself off the floor next to the… what was it called? Right, fainting couch. Now I’m up.
“Yeah, one second.” I pulled the fainting couch back and moved to unlock the door, but it was already unlocked. Didn’t I lock it? Maybe I forgot and just used the couch to block it instead. Being traumatized by Joe’s magic trap bullshit then spending the rest of the morning walking in the sun and finishing it up with a mile sprint and a bit more than a half bottle of wine was probably pretty far down on the list of ‘good ideas’.
It was Vivi and pitchfork dude, sans pitchfork. Shit, I was getting fancy now.
“Ready?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You don’t want to clean yourself up?”
“Who’re you, fork?”
Vivi giggled and he scowled and then I realized he might think I was making a fat joke. I wasn’t, I was referring more to the pitchfork that had been the most noticeable thing about him. Though, I wasn’t going to bother explaining myself to the big guy with a shitty scowl on his face. Fuck him and the fork he rode in on.
“Ron.”
“Well, let me hit the head then I’ll be good to go.”
He moved to come in, “You going to shake for me? Wait outside, what’s wrong with you? Raised by wolves.”
Damn I was grumpy right now. I also maybe, perhaps, a bit hungover. A niggling suspicion crept in that the Dark Affinity that had been weasily injected into me had something to do with enhancing negative emotions. Did it enhance them, or just make it easier to let them run around? Maybe bits of column A and B. AGH I screamed in my head. Can I just have a fuck-damn half-day without having to deal or process with more system crap. I get it, the ‘new normal’, I just wanted a damn day without having to think about it. That’s it. I’m committing to not dealing with it for a day. Just a day, then I’d get back into it. A mental health day. It’s done.
I tried the door that wasn’t the closet and saw that there was a… water closet! Right, bathroom without the bathing part. I was kind of impressed that I was recalling all these words only used in high-school’s most boring of required readings. Maybe it had something to do with the ‘10!’ in Mind.
I shrugged and splashed water on my face. It felt good and I repeated it a couple of times adding in some scrubbing with soap. While I was filling up my hands to rinse off my face, I looked at the mirror.
“Oh. My. God. What. The. Fuck?”
Who was that? It was a fucking murder hobo. Legitimately. I wasn’t sure if it was better or worse, but I felt like it was a somewhat handsome murder-hobo. Two words that really shouldn’t even go together. I mean, kind of in a generic, somewhat average way, but still!
What had happened to my jawline? I looked like a face mold for a very off-brand ‘Ken’ doll. Bit of an uncanny valley sensation and I wasn’t sure if that was just because I knew it was my own face or what. I looked into my eyes for a fraction of a second then did not look once back at the mirror as I rinsed off my face and walked out of the bathroom without daring to look again. Nope nope nope.
“One day!”
I had shit to do and looking in mirrors was absolutely not required. I kept my eyes focused to nowhere in particular as I rummaged in my bag and pulled out a fresh shirt and threw on a pair of jeans I had been carrying around. I left my old, scrabbled piece of crap hiking pants balled in the waste-basket. I felt kind of good.
I went back out and Vivi was there, “Are you okay?”
I shook my head, “Yeah, why?”
“You were shouting.”
Was… I? “Must have been someone else.”
She gave me a quizzical look then blushed as her eyes dropped to my chest, “This one’s even better!”
I looked down.
‘PUSSY PATROL’, black shirt, bold hot pink text.
For fuck’s sake. I’m glad she got eaten by her cats. She was one sick kitty. Dammit.