Post-Lifedrain Comedown is also a thing.
Worm moaned in his seat, head in his hands as he tried to come to terms with a throbbing existential crisis. Thankfully, his Constitution buff was helping but some things can’t be easily whisked away with a convenient buff.
Beside him, Petal Peachblossom sat firmly with her sword upright between her legs.
Worm wasn’t sure why his spell had excluded her, but assumed she’d abandoned her Party before he’d begun casting.
Mrs Gunstone was doing her best to ignore the scantily clad mercenary.
Mr Gunstone was pretending his eyes were looking towards the window and not at Petal’s breasts.
And Daisy was chattering on and on.
And on.
And on.
Mass Lifedrain wouldn’t work on my Undead Servant. Worm knew. He’d tried.
Multiple times.
“-and that’s why everyone calls him Worm.” Daisy smiled brightly. “I think it’s a brilliant name for a Necromancer. Don’t you?”
“It doesn’t sound very nice to me,” Petal said. “But I guess most people think Necromancers aren’t nice to begin with.”
“You don’t seem to mind sitting next to him.”
“I had a friend who was a Warlock.” The Mercenary shrugged. “Everyone hated her, too. They called her Horns.”
“Really? That’s so amazing! Did she raise demons?”
“Well, yes. That’s what Warlocks do…”
“And did her demons all have wings? And horns?”
“Most of the time.”
“That’s so awesome.” Ignoring Mrs Gunstone’s unsettled gasp, she kicked back in her reclining chair and let out a contented sigh. “I wish I had wings and horns. I still look mostly normal. Except my boobs. They got a little bigger, so I suppose that’s something at least.”
----------------------------------------
His money pouch felt reassuringly heavier than before after looting the fallen Bandits.
Aside from their belongings, Worm had gained seventy-two gold coins (mostly Imperial), thirteen silver, and another odd copper penny from some foreign land which no one would accept as currency.
It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough for a decent meal and a night’s rest in a proper bed. Hopefully without fleas.
He peeked into his Inventory as the carriage neared the next town.
Their belongings had been reduced to mostly armour scraps, a few shattered weapons, thirteen iron arrowheads, a small vial of Restore Health, rusty iron cuffs, a well-worn leather gag, three lengths of rope, a riding crop with only one Durability point remaining, a fancy velvet blindfold, and a skimpy pair of frilly panties which he hoped had belonged to one of the Harlots.
The alternative was too confusing to think about.
All in all, a waste of Inventory space, but maybe some of it would come in handy if he found a Shopkeeper perverted enough to buy any of it.
Worm glanced at his Undead Servant who still hadn’t stopped talking and briefly pondered how long it’d take her to gnaw through the gag.
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“Everyone calls you Worm?” Mrs Gunstone frowned as she climbed down out of the carriage.
The Necromancer nodded, more interested in looking over the quaint little village.
At first glance, it seemed a charming patchwork of shops and homes nestled together like old gossips sharing secrets. The thatched roofs were neat and regularly maintained. Windows glinting brightly in the golden glow of the sun.
Embracing the village was a simple yet sturdy palisade whose wooden posts were painted bright red. It should have made him think of blood, but it didn’t.
It was too bright.
Too fresh.
Too… Innocent?
The whole place made him shudder.
“I’m sorry,” Mrs Gunstone said. “I… I didn’t know.”
Shrugging, Worm left her there. Her opinion didn’t mean all that much to him. All the same, he resolved to cross her name off his list.
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Petal stood in front of a small shop.
Behind the glass window, small mannequins stood haughtily, wooden faces carved into passionless pouts. They were draped in soft dresses which a village girl might wear.
Plush velvets.
Pretty bows.
Pinks. Apricots. Blushing reds.
Everything screaming femininity with delicate squeals.
She looked down at the steel draping her muscular body and sighed.
“Excuse me?” A tiny woman with crafty eyes and a pleasant smile stood in the doorway. “Would you like some help? You know, I have a peach blossom bonnet which would look adorable on you!”
“A bonnet?” Petal Peachblossom’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Me? Wear a bonnet? Don’t make me laugh.”
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Harold Hicks was an Innkeeper. His father had been an Innkeeper, and his father before him.
His forefathers prior to that were all Barbarians who specialised in Berserking skills.
Their deeds were bloody. Their legends cruel and worthy of frightening small children.
Look out or the Hicks will come for you. They’ll slaughter your chickens, loot your basement, then cook and eat your bones.
Sometimes, Harold dreamt he could hear the ghosts of his ancestors calling for him to run through the streets with an axe and murder everyone in the town.
In his dream, the gutters ran red with blood.
Morton, the town’s Mayor, was always the last to die.
On his knees, the kindly old man would look up at Harold and plead for his life. The old man always looked so frail and pitiful.
Laughing, Harold would swing the axe and lop off the old man’s head with one clean swipe.
While he’d never actually do such a thing, Harold had bought an axe from the local Blacksmith and kept it under his bed.
Just in case.
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“Can I help you?”
“I hope so,” Worm said, a little warily. “I was hoping to rent a room.”
“You’re with the United Carriages mob, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I think I have a room free. It’d be two gold for the night. Food and drink not included. There’s a washroom downstairs next to the kitchen you’re welcome to use. Bath is extra, though.”
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“How much extra?”
“Say, fifteen silver? It’s not a big tub, but the water will be hot and clean. Soap is free. My daughter makes it. Uses orange peels in it so it’s got a nice citrus bouquet to it.” The Innkeeper trailed off awkwardly. “If you like that sort of thing...”
Worm gnawed on his lower lip for a moment, thinking it through.
He should save his coins. That would be the prudent thing to do.
“Alright,” he said at last. “One room and a bath. Please.”
“Bath will be drawn at seven,” Harold said. “One of my boys will do it while you eat if you like.”
“That’d be great,” the Necromancer said, his tight shoulders loosening a little. “How much is food?”
“Depends what you want.”
“Something not expensive.” He sighed. “I’m stretched on funding at the moment.”
“Sure,” Harold said, not at all offended. “Say, five silver and I’ll give you a slice of today’s pie and bit of mash. Another five and you can have two ales with it. Normally three each, so it’s saving a silver. There’s also a bit of a discount overall because you’re renting a room. Usually charge a gold for all that.”
Worm nodded. “That sounds good, actually.”
And, right then and there, it did.
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Daisy poked her head into the inn a few minutes later. “Excuse me, did my Master rent a room here? He’s about this high. Always wears black?”
Harold looked her up and down, reading her Nameplate. “Oh! The Necromancer? He didn’t mention having an Undead Servant.”
“My name’s Daisy.”
“So I see. Will you be… Needing a room, too?”
“I don’t think so. I’ll be sharing Master’s room. Is it extra?”
“There’s only one bed.” The Innkeeper tried not to frown at the thought of an unmarried couple sharing a room. He considered himself to be a progressive thinker, so buried his judgements deep inside. “But it’s a single.”
“That’s okay.” Daisy smiled brightly. “I don’t sleep anymore. Is there a chair? I like reading.”
He thought her smile infectious and smiled back. “I’ll have one brought up for you.”
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Worm enjoyed the warmth of the water soaking into his skin and inhaled the sweet citrus smell.
He watched his Charisma stat slowly rise back to normal as the bath served to remove the penalties for being dirty. It wasn’t much, as he’d also neglected that stat in favour of Intelligence, but it’d serve to stop most Shopkeepers from looking at him with suspicion when he entered their stores.
Closing his eyes, he let his mind drift a little.
He’d begun to think more and more about the Dungeon he’d been assigned to. As Dungeon Master he’d be little more than a caretaker. His job would be to make sure visiting Adventurers weren’t overwhelming the Core or using the Dungeon for nefarious purposes.
A Level One Dungeon, however, wouldn’t be able to support even a single Adventurer. It’d barely support a mouse.
The Dungeon Master’s Guide did suggest a few things to help promote faster growth, but most involved sending gold payments back to the Dungeon Master Guild in return for mysterious incense packets which Worm was quite sure were as effective as pissing on the Dungeon’s Core.
Possibly less so.
In the end, he concluded he’d have to do what the goblin had advised.
Study it.
He’d need to study the Dungeon and hope he could find a way to unlock its potential.
There had to be a way to push its evolution along.
Feeling a little more secure with life, the Necromancer stood in the tub and reached for his towel.
Which is when Daisy burst into the room, skirt flashing high as her wide violet eyes took in his naked form.
----------------------------------------
The guard used a stubby little pencil to write into his notebook.
“I’m sorry again, sir,” he said. “I heard the frightened shriek and thought the young lady was being molested. You’ve gotta admit, it didn’t look good. You standing there without even your britches on…”
Worm tested the bruise on his cheek with a wince. “For the last time, it was me. I was shouting at her to get out. She shouldn’t even have been in here.”
“It sounded more like a girl’s voice, sir.” The guard jotted everything down almost verbatim. “One who was terrified and afraid for her chastity. I know my heart was touched by the absolute terror of the sound. Rosie downstairs thought the same. It gave everyone quite a fright.”
“I was in the bath.”
“And again, I’m sorry for not noticing, sir. I admit my thoughts were focussed on defending the lady’s honour. The town will, of course, compensate you for the inconvenience and possible use of excessive, though warranted I might add, force.” He paused his scribbles and looked up with a genuine look of apology. “I didn’t expect you to go down so easily. Didn’t you put any points into your Stength stat?”
“No.” He grit his teeth. “I’m a Necromancer. I needed higher Intelligence.”
“Well. It’s a good thing you had your Constitution buff, isn’t it? I might’ve really broken your jaw otherwise.” The guard’s smile brimmed momentarily with satisfaction. “That’d have been a hundred gold in compensation. For light to medium bruising, though, it’s five. Minus fifty silver for the Lesser Health Potion we gave you while you were unconscious.”
----------------------------------------
Trying not to think about the hundred gold he might have gained if he hadn’t used Mass Lifedrain to buff his Constitution, Worm sat on his bed and glared at his minion.
“Next time,” he said slowly in hope it might sink into her undead brain this time. “Knock first.”
“I’ll try to remember, Master.” She grinned at him, her toothy smile not even a little ashamed. “I really will, I promise. But things sometimes get a little scattered in my head. Maybe it’s because parts of my brain were decayed?”
“That’s not how it works,” he told her. “If it were, skeletons wouldn’t be able to function. They’d just stand there like mindless puppets.”
“Isn’t that what they do?”
“No. They follow orders. Simple orders. But that shows they have some kind of mind independent of their brains.”
“But if mine is also independent, why can I remember who I was? I even remember my first kitten. His name was Buttons.”
“Skeletons are independent because there’s no meat left to attach their soul to. Your soul reattached and…” He put his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes. “Look. It’s complicated. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Okay, Master.” She hummed cheerfully, lashes fluttering. “You know, you have very attractive abdominal muscles for someone with no additional Strength points. Do you exercise every day? I’ve never seen you doing it.”
Ignoring the hot flush of his cheeks, he got up and left the room without another word.
Only when he was halfway down the hallway did he pause to mutter; “Evil witch.”
----------------------------------------
Petal stared down at the plate stacked with layers of beef and gravy.
Chunks of roast carrots and potatoes sat carefully to the side with a few stray strings of green beans. Their gently caramelized surface teased strong earthy flavours.
The meal wasn’t presented with any level of care, but she could smell the attention to quality in the gravy’s rich aroma.
Her stomach rumbled as she impaled the top slab of meat with her fork.
Slowly, she lifted the dripping slab to her lips.
Closed her eyes.
And took her first bite.
The meat was soft, succulent, and practically evaporated in her mouth. The gravy swirled around her tongue, its savory taste bursting with onion, tomato, and freshly diced herbs.
Her eyes flashed open as though she’d been struck by religious revelation. With a swallow, she stared down at the plate. Her brow trembled as though her body was warring with emotions she could hardly contain.
Her knife and fork hovered in her fingers above the plate.
A slight shiver in the tip of steel.
A hum of tension seemed to fill the inn.
Then she struck.
Her attack was precise. Immediate. With long sweeping strokes of her implements, she tore the meal apart, gorging ravenously on its bounty.
She paid particular attention to the potatoes, carving lovingly through the crisp outer skin and into the soft fluffy flesh within.
Her hands blurred as she continued her frenzied battle to consume each delicious morsel within the shortest possible time.
Only when her plate was clean did she look up with a befuddled glance to find the Necromancer, Worm, standing beside her table. He had an ale in his hand and a surprised expression on his face. She didn’t know how long he’d been watching.
He blinked at her, nodding to the plate. “Good, was it?”
With a grunt of exaggerated toughness, she dropped her fork onto the plate and wiped the back of her mouth with her fist.
“Sure,” she said, reaching for the delicate glass of red wine. Took a large gulp. Let out an indelicate burp. “It was alright.”
----------------------------------------
She followed him up the stairs like a steel-clad panther.
Her eyes on his back. He could feel the heat of her gaze practically burning holes between his shoulders.
“Well,” he said as he pushed open his door. “Goodnight, Petal.”
He made it two steps inside before Daisy flung herself into his arms again. “Master! Where did you go? I missed you so much!”
“Daisy!” He thrust out to push her away and his hands found two soft lumps on her chest.
Delighted, she grabbed his hands and held them in place. “Oh, Master! Do you like them? They’re getting bigger, I’m sure of it. What do you think? Are they bigger? Is that what your magic did to me? Did you do it because you wanted me to have big boobs? I bet you did. You’re a naughty Master, you really are. Daddy said you’d be trying to grab them sooner or later and he was right!”
“Bloody-” Tearing himself free, he threw himself as far from her as he could. “Stop! I command you. Just… Just stop.”
“Is that what turning into a Zombie does to you?” Petal asked. “Or was she always so eager to get you to play with her boobs?”
Worm blinked. “What?”
“Oh, I get it if she was. I mean, most men would like that sort of thing. I’d expect that was why you raised her?”
“No! She wasn’t… She wasn’t like that. Not before. She was…” He sat on his bed, frustration filling his gaze with resentment as he glared at his minion. “I don’t know what she was.”
“Oh, don’t say that, Master,” Daisy giggled. “You can admit it now, you know. It’s just us. You always loved my boobs. And now they’re all yours.”
“Hmph,” Petal grunted. She swung her arm to dump her pack at the bottom of his bed. “Sounds like you broke her one way or another.”
“I’m not broken,” Daisy said, suddenly serious. “I was broken before, though. Then I died. And Master fixed me. He really did. I’m all fixed now.”
“That’s debatable.” Worm said, then frowned at Petal, who was busy unrolling her sleeping bag. “Hang on. What do you think you’re doing?”
“What’s it look like? I’m getting ready for bed.”
“But this is my room. I paid for it.”
“I can’t protect you from out in the hall,” she said. “The guard mentioned harpies live in the area. What if one comes through the window?”
“What? What do you mean protect me?”
The mercenary didn’t answer. She just lay down on her back with her sword in her fist, and closed her eyes.
Worm looked to Daisy, who gave a delicate shrug of her delicate shoulder before sitting delicately on her delicate couch. Then, with a delicate smile, she moved her delicate legs in an indelicate manner.
“If you really want to protect me,” he hissed at Petal. “You can do something about her!”
Petal began to snore.
Daisy giggled.
Worm sighed.
“Bugger.”
----------------------------------------
In the morning, when he woke, Petal was snoring on her side. Her sword was inches away from her gauntleted fingers. She lay sprawled in a position that might have made him blush if he weren’t the gentleman he was and refused to look.
Daisy knelt on the ground in front of him, her glowing violet eyes staring intently at him. He was no longer surprised to find her beside his bed when he woke.
“You don’t snore, Master,” she informed him. “You’re a very quiet sleeper. I always liked that in a man.”
“Yeah, that’s great.”
“I washed your clothes for you while you slept. And if you’d like to go downstairs for breakfast, I’ll tidy the room for you so we can leave. Harold said he’d give you a free breakfast if I did. It’d save his daughter from having to do it.”
He wanted to reach out and strangle her.
Instead, he rolled over and began pulling on his freshly cleaned pants. “Thank you, Daisy.”
Her soft lips parted into a delighted smile. “You’re welcome, Master.”
Petal was still snoring when he left.
He was unsure how she was going to protect him from anything in her sleep.