by Ryan Rimmel
“We’d have to break into over fifty houses. If you haven’t noticed, those same houses are all full of traps tonight,” I replied. “I’m getting the fact that you have badger envy, but that’s a pretty tall order.”
Badgelor sighed. “I didn’t want to mention this, but we badgers get a special power on Badger’s Night. It lets us complete our task with time to spare.”
“Really?” I asked. “And this helps me how?”
“With your Improved Companion Bond perk, you’ll be able to sneak into the houses, no problem. Consider yourself deputized,” said the badger smugly.
“So, if you’d have time to spare, why do you need my help?” I asked.
“Small problem. My pool of stopped time isn’t bottomless, and some of that time went to you through our bond,” stated Badgelor. “Because of you, I won’t have enough time to do the whole village by myself!”
“Shart, is he pulling my leg?” I asked my shoulder demon.
“Actually, no. On Badger’s Night, each badger gets a special power to help them hide gifts,” said Shart.
I turned my head to fully face my demon. “You have to be kidding me.”
“Nope, time stands still so you can deliver presents,” stated the demon. “I can explain it in more detail, but it involves magical terms. Your Dum Dum little head would explode.”
“Why were badgers granted this power?” I asked.
“That would be one of the magical terms that would make your head explode,” grinned Shart.
“You know, if you’d told me I was going to be helping Santa deliver presents one day, I’d have called you a liar.”
“Who is Santa? Can I eat him?” asked Badgelor. “Delivering presents is my deal.”
Chapter 18: Badgers Night
The party was quite impressive, spilling out into the various side streets. There was singing, dancing, and cavorting. There was also drinking. Lots and lots of drinking. Children from around the village were in their costumes running between houses to get bait for Badgelor. The candy was put into small bait buckets. The whole thing looked pretty much like Halloween with a different color pallet.
The last I saw Jarra the Healer, she was leading her crew around to score candy from the various houses. Apparently, the only way to prevent Badgelor from coming to your house was to not have kids there. That fact had caused the ladies at the Golden Badger to hand all of theirs off to a variety of people. The Barracks actually took a few kids in, specifically so Badgelor would try to sneak in and steal their stuff. Zorlando had even invited Ashe over to the Barracks later tonight, supposedly to help watch the children. Supposedly
Zorlando was a clever guy.
“You could have at least jumped through the demon door as a Badger’s Night present for me,” grumbled Shart. I had fully avoided that particular party game. I really didn’t want to go through any demon doors, real or pretend.
After a suitable amount of time had passed, I said my goodbyes and wandered over to my empty house. Zorlando was with Ashe handing out candy on my front porch, and Sir Dalton was with his daughters, most of them, at least. I was home alone, on the most holy night of the year, with Shart and Badgelor.
I spent most of my time in my workshop, trying to make an improved Ring of Vitality. Even with my more advanced skills, the best I could get was still not up to the task at hand.
● Ring of Vitality, improved. +30 Hit Points, + 30 Stamina, Quality: Masterwork
Placing it on the table, I looked at my new armor. It was half-plate and much nicer than anything I had made or purchased. Even better, it had been manufactured in Windfall, meaning that my smiths were finally leveling up enough to start producing higher quality goods.
“Shart, what’s the difference in calling someone Professional or commoner?” I asked.
“Depends on where you are from. Traditionally Grebthar called anyone who wasn’t an adventurer a Professional and the word kind of stuck. He’s been gone for a long time though and adventurer’s started calling themselves the Chosen and everyone else a commoner,” replied the demon.
“Is what Jarra the Healer said true? Are they treated like second class citizens elsewhere?” I asked already knowing the answer. I was tapping on my new armor with a hammer. As great as it was, several of the joints still needed adjusting.
“Yes,” replied the demon.
“Isn’t that wrong?” I asked.
“Wrong is a matter of opinion here,” said Shart, walking over to sit on my empty armor stand. “Being one of the Chosen really is better than being a commoner. You live longer, have more Hit Points, and can do more with less training. In every category that you could think of to compare people, Chosen are better than the common man.”
“But everyone is born equal,” I said reflexively.
“Like hell they are,” stated Shart. “You were ‘born’ on Ordinal with crazy abilities. Fenris is in his early thirties and is a far more capable leader of men than Zorlando. The same Zorlando who’s older than Fenris, has been a Mercenary since he was twelve years old, and fought in ten times as many battles as Fenris has.”
“I thought Zorlando was younger than Fenris,” I said, but then realized it was the confidence talking. Zorlando acted confident; Fenris was confident. There was a difference.
“He’s thirty-two,” replied Shart. “It gets worse. Zorlando is more likely to get hurt, heals slower, and learns skills far less quickly. Hell, if you strip him out of his equipment, he’s not that much tougher than the average member of the Militia.”
“We should still treat people equally,” I said.
“Should we?” replied the demon. “Should we treat the adventurers the same way as the rabble? Nations that did that got swallowed up by nations that realized that you Chosen are the way to win wars. Do you want to guess how many kings were Chosen and how many were common-born?”
“I’d wager not many,” I said.
“Hardly any. Those that were tended to be offed by Chosen who desired their thrones. A high-level assassin can kill pretty much any commoner in the world without much trouble,” said Shart.
“Well, where I came from, everyone was created equal,” I said.
“I call bullshit,” stated Shart. “Few people are truly created equal.”
“Equal under the law.”
“I doubt that’s true as well,” stated Shart. “People with money and influence and people who are poor and unpopular are never treated equally. That’s one of the main advantages of having money and influence.”
“I’m still going to treat people equally,” I replied.
“That’s very Grebtharian of you, you idiot.”
“You said that you did something to my extradimensional storage?” I asked after a moment.
“Indeed, I did,” replied the demon cheerfully. “Since you are my bonded Familiar, I merged our dimensional storages. More accurately, I linked your tiny space with my massive space. Now, when that bitch tries to show off her extradimensional pocket, you can pull out a boulder. I have conveniently placed one in storage, by the way. You know, just in case you need it.”
That was actually pretty useful. Shart was a bit of a kleptomaniac. He frequently put odd, assorted bits of nonsense into his nearly limitless extradimensional pocket. There was no telling what I could yank out of it in a pinch.
Badgelor stepped into the room, “It's time.”
Chapter 19: An Evening to Remember
I grabbed the large sack stuffed full of toys and began dividing them up. I opened Shart’s mouth and started roughly shoving the toys in there, causing Badgelor’s eyes to go wide.
“We do not do that,” he hissed, slapping a toy out of my hand. He then dove, headfirst, into Shart. He came up with the few toys I’d stored there. “I’m Badgelor! We will do everything good and proper. That means we use a Badger’s Sack!”
“A Badger’s Sack?” I questioned.
“Yes,” groaned Badgelor, “It's tradition. You have to have a large sack o
f presents on your back. That way, the kiddies know they are getting something.”
I sniffed the bag he had provided. “Badgelor, your sack stinks.”
“I don’t care! You have to work the sack anyway,” growled the badger. “This is a special occasion, and I need you to handle my sack with the respect it deserves.”
“It smells like old bologna,” I gagged. “What are these lumps?”
“Are you sure you should be checking Badgelor’s Sack for lumps?” asked Shart.
“I’d want to be able to report them, if we found anything unusual,” I said.
“My Sack is fine! Just get both of your hands on it and let's get started,” commanded the badger.
Grumbling, I picked up the bulging sack. It was heavy, and I had to blow some hair out of my mouth. “You really need to take better care of your Sack, if you want other people to handle it.”
Following the badger out of the house, we walked onto the main street. In this moonlight, the street itself was well-lit. I was initially concerned that we’d be noticed. My fears were alleviated when I saw a sheet of paper hovering off the ground, indicating that time had indeed stopped.
“Well, that’s weird,” I said, walking over and grabbing it. It seemed to quiver in my hands for a second. Once it stopped its brief quivering, it acted just like any other piece of paper. I released it, and it fell to the ground. Upon landing, it adopted the same hovering, static appearance it had when I’d first seen it.
“If you are done screwing around, we have a bunch of houses to get to. You take these, and I’ll get the rest,” stated Badgelor, handing me a map. It was a map drawn by someone with a bit of skill, because it actually looked like the town. It had then been modified by Badgelor, to show me where to go. His modifications involved him scratching marks into the map with his claws.
Not ideal, but this could work. The first place on my list was HankAlvin’s house. Badgelor and I broke apart, with Shart obviously coming with me.
“This seems stupid,” I said to Shart as Badgelor waddled off in the opposite direction.
“Well, you went along with it,” replied the demon.
“I need to get Badgelor up to Friendly for the next step on my Path,” I replied.
“Aw, Dum Dum is being less than noble. That’s hilarious,” mocked Shart.
“What do you think? I’m just a carbon copy do gooder?” I replied, as we arrived at our first house, HankAlvin’s place was right off the square, not much further from my house than the Town Hall. I felt a slight twinge as we grew closer and noticed that time seemed to be behaving itself again.
“I think you act with your heart more than your head. Mind you, that’s probably a good thing, considering the mush you have in your head,” observed Shart. I knelt down and pulled out my lockpicks. “You shouldn’t care about anyone but you. It's going to get you killed one of these days.”
“I think with my head plenty,” I replied as the lock clicked open. “You just think with that shriveled little black heart of yours.” I opened the door and stared inside. Quite suddenly, a potted plant landed squarely on top of my skull.
“That looked painful,” said Shart, as I clutched the top of my head. It was actually very painful. My Mitigate skill hadn’t kicked on. Neither did any of my Detect Trap skills.
“Wait, I can’t use my skills?” I asked.
“Of course not, you are in a stasis bubble,” stated Shart with a chuckle. “If you’d ever pay attention to what I’m saying, you’d realize how much of a mess you are in. Don’t worry, though. Your healing factor should be through the roof at the moment.”
As I rubbed my head, my Hit Points shot back up to full. “Oh, no.”
The door swung all the way open to reveal dozens of traps located throughout the room. I did a quick check. Any skills with a time component didn’t work, so Mitigate, Dodge, and most others were flat out. I could still use my Stealth skill, but my Danger Sense and Detect Traps didn’t work because of. . . crazy badger magic
Oh, feck me, you glorious arsehole. I immediately began making a mental list of ways to kill Badgelor.
Well, I had a ton of Hit Points, and I wasn’t a quitter, unfortunately. I snuck into the house as carefully as I could. The first floor of HankAlvin’s house was mostly his shop, but there was an extension on the back. There was also a second story and an oversized attic. To access the door leading to the family’s living quarters, I had to sneak through the shop and to the extension. From there, I could head to the back and find the room HankAlvin’s daughter slept in. That was the most likely place for her to have left her old toy out for exchange.
“Didn’t he have a harpoon launcher?” wondered Shart, as I deftly moved through the traps. I successfully avoided all of the multiple bear traps on the floor.
“Yes,” I growled. He had also thrown a bunch of caltrops on the floor, so walking between the traps was annoying.
“Where do you think he put it?” asked the demon.
“The trap door, probably,” I said, remembering the trapdoor I’d found the original blacksmithing supplies in. I barely managed to pull my head back as the harpoon erupted from the trapdoor, its steel tip splitting the end of my nose apart.
I stumbled backward, stepping on a bear trap. It snapped shut around my foot, and the chain it was attached to started pulling. That caused me to lose my balance and fall. I managed to get one hand on the ground, palm first, into a caltrop. My other hand caught a second trap, which snapped shut around my wrist.
It, too, was attached to a chain. The two traps yanked me in different directions until the chains became taunt, snapping me up into the air for a glorious moment. Then, I was violently slammed, crotch first, down on another trap. Unfortunately, it also snapped shut and began pulling.
“So, how’s that going?” asked Shart.
“Not ideal,” I croaked, yanking a hand to my mouth and biting down on the caltrop to pull it free.
Thinking fast, I grabbed another trap and strained to snap it onto the chain gripping my arm. Then, another and another. Pretty soon, I had four traps pulling on the chain to my arm, all from different directions. With a loud snapping sound, the chain broke apart. That action caused the chains on my crotch and leg to pull me toward the spiked wall.
“I wondered why there were spikes there,” thought Shart, as I dug my hands into the floorboards. My nails dredged up wood shavings as I was pulled.
“I really hate this holiday,” I cursed, rolling toward the spikes and getting the chains up over my shoulders. Finally, I could pull properly. I had a wellspring of power that was far greater than these two mechanical chains. Within me burned the spark of the greatest power I’d so far discovered on Ordinal.
● Hiking Check, Successful!
With a mighty groan, I began swaying forward, the massive pull of the chains countered by the staggering amount of weight I could manage on my back due to the Hiking skill. Each inch forward caused the mechanism to whine and pop. Eventually, after the third pace, there was a snapping noise. One more pace and a second snapping noise let me pull the chains free from the wall.
Reaching down, I gripped the trap on my crotch and began to pull.
“I think there is a mechanism here,” stated Shart, poking something. Whatever he touched caused the trap to spring wide-open.
“Thanks,” I muttered, finding the second trap’s catch and releasing my foot.
“I’m surprised. Normally when something hits your crotch, it's an all hands on deck sort of emergency,” stated Shart.
I knocked on my crotch, revealing a metal thunk. “Nope, got a proper cup sewn into all of my garments.”
“Nice,” said Shart, looking around. “So, you think the kids are still asleep?”
Suddenly, the door to the shop flew open. HankAlvin, naked except for his heavy smith’s apron, stood there, brandishing a hammer. “Holy shit, someone has been in here.”
“Think it's Badgelor?” asked HankAlvin’s daughter. She was si
xteen and way too old to still believe in Badgelor. Hell, I was much older than her, and I barely believed in him. An odd feat, considering he lived with me.
“Do I think the real Badgelor has snuck into my smithy to deliver you presents?” asked HankAlvin, peering around. I could meld into shadow, and it was past midnight. Those were the only reasons he hadn’t spotted me.
“Wait, does everyone heal super quickly from traps tonight, or is it just Badgelor and me?” I asked.
“Everyone. It's part of the Badger’s Night magic! That way children can’t be hurt when they help their parents with the traps. Why?” replied Shart.
“No reason,” I said, picking up a bear trap and checking the chain. Then, I tossed it onto the hammer HankAlvin was holding. It snapped shut, causing the weapon to fly from his hand. He cursed and carefully stepped into the room to find it. His daughter screamed but followed after him.
I snuck behind the two of them and got to the back. Sneaking through as quickly and quietly as I could, I reached his daughter’s room. On her end table was an old, badly torn doll. I reached into my Badger’s sack and found one that looked nearly identical but was in much better shape. I quickly switched the dolls and headed back toward the door.
“You should just run through the catacombs,” stated Shart.
I could still hear HankAlvin and his daughter searching the workshop. Reaching the first story, I looked down at the floor, cursing. I had entered this very room from the catacombs that encompassed the underside of Windfall before. Sighing, I opened the trap door that led into the undercity.
Chapter 20: One Final Stop
“Look, all I’m saying is that this was a much better idea,” stated Shart, as we opened up the trap door into the final house. On my own, I would never have been able to find these paths. It had helped tremendously to have an intangible demon who could simply fly through walls. Shart had proved an invaluable guide, directing me to every house on my map.
