On the upside it was doing wonders for his golem body and toughness skills. And his defensive duelist skills were getting a workout, too.
The downside was that his friends were getting hurt, pretty badly hurt. At one point Pulsivar took a bone-shattering hit, bounced off a wall, and got up and limped away, leaving droplets of blood on the floor behind him, with a whole ’1’ hit point glaring on Threadbare’s party screen. “Fluffbear!” he yelled, as he leaped onto the giant’s chest, holding its tunic while he jabbed it in the jaw repeatedly. “Heal him, please!”
“On it!”
The giants went down, finally. And Threadbare went over to hug Pulsivar, who lay there, panting, grooming his bloody fur.
Fluffbear looked up from his side and shook her head. “He lost a life.”
“What?”
“He has the Nine Lives skill, just like Kayin. But he’s on life number seven now. One more to go, then...” she hugged Pulsivar too, his fur rasping as it ruffled against her armor.
“No. No, I don’t want him to die!” Threadbare said. The cat switched from grooming himself to licking them, tongue rasping against their plush hides.
“Maybe...” Cecelia looked over at Madeline. “Maybe we could put him back in the pack? Just for this run?”
“Maybe for more than that,” Garon said. “We’re up against some pretty tough customers, and bobcat levels aren’t going to cut it. I mean...” he sighed. “As a cat, he’s totally badass. But he’s still a cat. Up against giants, and daemons, and everything else... if we want him to survive, we should maybe stop bringing him into battle.”
“That might be good. He doesn’t get any of my tamer bonuses, like Mopsy does. And his armor just.. isn’t. I used to think we could soulstone him if the worst happened,” Fluffbear squeaked, “But I’m not sure he’d be okay with this. Or like living as a golem.”
“We should have this discussion outside. Until then let’s keep him out of danger,” Threadbare decided.
But Pulsivar was having none of it. When they pulled out the pack, he refused to go back in. Even with Fluffbear offering treats.
Finally, Zuula shook her head. “Speak with Nature,” she said and snarled for a bit. Pulsivar growled back. Then the shaman shrugged. “He say no.”
“No? But... I don’t want him to die,” Threadbare said.
“Incoming,” Kayin said, looking at the rippling air.
“He say it his choice. And he rather die fighting for family, den hide safe while dey all risk. Besides he say you all lost wit’out him, silly hoomin toys.”
Without hope of changing the proud cat’s mind, they hurried away from the respawning guards and into what the local giants referred to as the ‘Sheep Level.’
And there the toys got a rude shock. Kayin’s estimate of evading trouble had been far, far too optimistic.
The shepherds weren’t a problem as all. The shepherds dropped their crooks and ran as soon as trouble started.
But the things they were herding weren’t sheep at all.
They were Wooly Bullies, and the bigger males among them had horns and strong territorial instincts.
“Bah!” they called, as they sighted interlopers.
“Ram!” they shouted, as they used Rammit skills to knock the golems around the grassy fields, sending them tumbling as Threadbare and his friends fought the herds.
“Oh Ewe!” their mates called out, affectionately, as they used healing nuzzles to keep the males fighting fit.
The group had come prepared to fight giants, big slow things that took a lot of punishment and hit really hard. They hadn’t come prepared for endless waves of sheep, which were faster things that took a bit less punishment, and nibbled more weakly, but more persistently. And worst of all, the damned things didn’t run. No matter how many of the herd had fallen, the wooly bullies didn’t stop coming.
But for all that, they were up against golems, with only a few living allies to worry about. Golems had great endurance, and it took a lot to get them tired. Twenty minutes into the fight Graves and the cats were flagging, but with a few shouted orders by Garon and Threadbare, the toys reorganized themselves into a loose square around their living allies.
And for a while there, it looked like it was working. They moved across the field, slowly, sending wool flying and standing resolute against sheep the size of great danes. Glub’s song rose above the bleating, a song of clarity this time, so Threadbare and the healers could keep everyone in good shape. The giant fights had been sprints, races to take them down before they killed someone. This was more of a marathon, a grinding ocean of wooly meat that needed to be converted into mutton.
They didn’t notice the midboss until it was among them.
Threadbare’s head snapped around as Cecelia... no, Marva, screamed.
There, under a white pelt with eyeholes, was something brown, with glaring red eyes, and big, big jaws, all the better to bite Marva with. It was gnawing her, looking very surprised, as its teeth rasped on porcelain and metal. It spat her out and she tumbled, barely avoided a Ram and hurried back to the group.
“Wolf in Sheep’s clothing!” Garon yelled, and then the creature was leaping into the center of the formation, howling in fury...
The wooly bullies were acting out of territorial concerns.
The wolf? He wanted MEAT.
Pulsivar and Mopsy smelled like predators, so they weren’t his first choice.
No, that honor fell to Graves.
And Graves fell as the enormous, horse-sized wolf leaped on his back and fastened his jaws around the man’s head, worrying it. Only his helm saved him from serious damage.
His helm and Fluffbear, as she squeaked a challenge, slammed Mopsy into the wolf, and started raining down Dolorous Strikes that hit all out of proportion to her size. She’d activated holy smite early in the sheep battle, and the glowing, enlarged field of divine energy that trailed after her weapon and left afterimages flashed as it sliced red numbers out of the wolf.
Then Kayin was on the thing from behind, backstabbing for all she was worth.
“Hold the square!” Threadbare called, worried as their formation started to fall apart...
...but he needn’t, for to his amazement, the sheep were as worried about the wolf as he was. They backed off, forming a wooly ring, and the ewes in the herd got to work healing up their bah rams.
“Madeline, go toast some healers!” Garon called, as soon as it was clear they wouldn’t get rushed.
“On it!” She broke ranks and flapped upward, diving towards the biggest clusters of fluffy ewes. “Hey ewe assholes! Bahninate!”
Turns out, wool is pretty combustible. Burning sheep fled the herd, bleating and crying. Though the others didn’t follow suit, it did thin out a few of their healers.
The wolf fought savagely, laying into Fluffbear and Mopsy, and Threadbare focused on mending her, while she healed Mopsy.
Then Pulsivar was in there, laying into it with a full pounce and rake, only to get tossed off contemptuously. The black bobcat squalled and came in for another run... but got slammed backward, sent head over tail.
The group closed in, surrounding it, overcoming it by sheer weight of numbers—
—and the wolf grinned, and said “Where Wolf?” Then it leaped, as mightily as it had before, leaving the group and vanishing back into the herd.
“Healing? Please?” Graves croaked, blinking blearily at the dumbfounded sheep, who looked around for the wolf...
...and saw it was gone.
But hey, wait! There were intruders in their territory!
The sheep looked at each other, and again the fuzzy tide surged inward.
Garon yelled “Reassemble! Get back in form—”
“RA-A-A-AM!” A wooly bully called, colliding with the little wooden minotaur. Garon went flying. Madeline darted down and caught him and descended to rejoin the formation.
“Zuula got you!” the shaman said. “Fast Regeneration!” She told Graves, then hopped
up to his shoulder, to get a little more room to cast. “Call Vines!” Ropes of plant matter shot out of the ground on their flank, blunting the worst of the charge. But the Bullies were big, and her vines weren’t infinite, and it would only hold them for a little while, she knew. No point in calling thorns either, their woolly hides would ignore those.
Graves glanced back to Threadbare, bashing a ram in the head with his shield as he sidestepped it. “Permission to go full death knight?”
“What does that mean?” Threadbare called back, raising his voice over the bleating and screaming.
“The cats need to get clear!”
“Missus Fluffbear, get them out!” Threadbare called.
It took a few seconds, but the little paladin managed to leap Mopsy clear. And where Mopsy went, Pulsivar did as well. He’d learned THAT much, at least.
“All right you jerks,” Graves said, raising his sword up high. “Bony Armor! Graveblade!”
Bloody bones ripped from the sheeps’ corpses, and gathered around him, splattering him with gore. Gray, sickly energy coalesced around his sword, almost like smoke made solid. Leading with his shield, hacking into the herd around him, the Death Knight left the formation and began his gory work.
Glub and Marva started to move to back him up, but Cecelia called them back. “He’s got this! Watch!”
The Graveblade didn’t seem to kill sheep any faster, but it wasn’t meant to.
No, what that buff did, was turn anything that Graves killed into a zombie.
One by one, the sheep he hacked fell down. One by one they rose, baahing “Brai-ai-ai-ains,” and doing their best to chew their former herdmates to death.
They didn’t turn on Graves, thankfully. His Undead Truce class feature was proof against that.
And as for the golems...
Cecelia stood very still, as a zombie sheep waddled up to her, gave her a sniff, then walked away, bleating for brains.
No flesh, no meat, nothing good to eat.
For a second, all was going well. Graves was killing living sheep; the sheep couldn’t hurt him fast enough to bring him down, and the growing tide of zombies was throwing their ranks into confusion and panic. The circle around the toys slipped, started to break—
—and in the sudden gap, Threadbare could see Pulsivar, Mopsy, and Fluffbear, fighting for their lives against the wolf. It stood on two legs now, wooly skin thrown on its back like a cape, lashing down at Fluffbear with sweeping strikes.
Threadbare ran that way with all his might, moving with long-practiced agility, great bounds eating up the grass as he hopped Zuula’s vines, but he was far away, so very far, and as he watched the wolf backhanded Fluffbear off Mopsy and turned to focus on the two cats, chasing Pulsivar. A Caterwaul rose up from the bobcat as he dodged for all he was worth—
—but it wasn’t enough. The wolf’s jaws closed around Pulsivar.
“I challenge you!” Threadbare called, tucking his scepter in its loop, hanging it over his shoulder as he stretched his claws.
Your Challenge skill is now level 10!
“Drain Life!” the little bear threw in for good measure, as the wolf turned around in surprise, then yelped and dropped the limp cat as a red ‘21’ tore from him and swirled into Threadbare.
Your Drain Life skill is now level 8!
Mopsy tore at the wolf’s flank as Fluffbear ran to Pulsivar’s twitching form, but the wolf ignored them both and growled at Threadbare as he loped toward his tiny tormentor.
Threadbare ignored the Moxie damage, and the notice that flashed up.
You have resisted The Wherewolf’s Growl!
Your Stubborn skill is now level 10!
No, Threadbare ignored all else, as he rushed straight into the wolf’s jaws, as they came crashing down around him, for massive damage.
CON +1
Your Golem Body skill is now level 32!
Your Toughness skill is now level 24!
The wolf tried to shake him. Threadbare felt one of his legs rip free, ignored it, ignored his pants tearing away as they went with the leg, and squirmed, right into the wolf’s throat.
The big beast froze, as the little golem’s claws jabbed into it, right through the back of its cheeks.
“Adjust Weight,” Threadbare said, there in the wolf’s gullet.
And the wolf coughed as the little bear swelled up to almost twice his regular size.
Inside the wolf’s throat.
The wolf went berserk, shaking its head, clawing at its mouth, unable to get its paws in at a good angle. Not that it mattered. Whenever Threadbare felt a tear, he’d whisper “Mend Golem.”
He had to ration the air he used to speak carefully. There wasn’t much inside the wolf’s throat.
Especially since he was blocking any from getting in to the wolf’s lungs.
And after a minute, its struggles weakened and slowed. Then it fell over. But Threadbare stayed stuck in.
In the end, the wolf died in an appropriate fashion, choked to death on a mouthful of fluff way bigger than he could handle.
By slaying a creature through suffocation you have unlocked the Air Elementalist Job!
You cannot become an air elementalist at this time!
Only then, did Threadbare dig himself out. It was very messy, but eventually the wolf gave way, and he stared out into the sky... and at the distant figures of his running friends, heading toward him. He glanced around, realized that he was in a different part of the field. The wolf, in its struggles, had panicked and fled, evidently.
“I’m all right!” he called, emerging bloody and torn from the wolf. But it didn’t matter, because Pulsivar was one of the ones coming toward him, and he was very, very relieved to see the big cat alive and mobile.
While waiting for his friends he managed a few clean and presses, and a mend for his torn trousers, and then his friends were up to him. He glanced over at the herd of sheep zombies, shuffling slowly towards the group, drawn by the lure of living cats to eat.
“Should we be worried about those?” Threadbare asked.
Graves glanced back. “No. They’re temporary, and—” he blinked behind his visor. “Oh my goodness the levels. Status. Help.” He blinked again. “Okay, Death Knight only gets nastier.”
“I don’t think I want you to teach me that job after all,” Missus Fluffbear squeaked, watching the zombies who weren’t chasing them feeding on their fallen comrades. “That’s really not Yorgum’s um... style. Ooooh, levels!”
And indeed, now that the rolling waves of sheep were done, the party was reaping the rewards. In more ways than one, as Madeline searched the suffocated midboss for gold, and Zuula hunted for other items.
Threadbare was no exception to the gain.
You are now a level 13 Cave Bear!
CON+10
WIS +10
Armor +5
Endurance +5
Mental Fortitude +5
You are now a level 8 Duelist!
+3 AGI
+3 DEX
+3 STR
You are now a level 9 Duelist!
+3 AGI
+3 DEX
+3 STR
You are now a level 16 Golemist!
INT+5
WILL +5
“You leveled golemist again? So quickly?” Cecelia said, taking a break from checking her own status to look at the party screen. “This has to be because you’re double dipping. Taking in experience every time we win a fight.”
“More like dipping sevenfold,” Garon pointed out. “Besides the cats and Fluffbear and Graves, we’re all earning him experience. And that’s not counting the Golem Guardians boost that you guys are getting. And the Creator’s Guardians boost.” Garon sighed. “We need to reshuffle. Marva, would you be upset if you went back in the pack?”
“Not at all,” Cecelia’s double said. “If you’re sure you don’t need me anymore, Lord.” She smiled at Threadbare.
“It’s fine. You’ve done plenty. Thank you!” He hugged
her, and golden light flared.
You have healed Prinses Seselia 140 points!
Your Innocent Embrace skill is now level 15!
Back in she went, and as zombie sheep collapsed in the distance, their animation timers up, the group reshuffled the party.
Fluffbear got tucked in with Pulsivar, Mopsy, and Graves, who immediately animated the Wolf as a slavering, red-eyed ghoul. Zuula talked Pulsivar and Mopsy into letting it be. Graves also rummaged around in the pack and pulled out a black, twisted wand. “It’s tight enough in here I might have to drain the charges left in this thing,” he decided.
“That’s the one from that Arxus guy, who tried to taunt ya in the fort, ain’t it?”
“Yep,” Graves said. “Just a drain-life wand with a hair trigger. Can suck someone dry in a matter of seconds.”
Everyone else went in Threadbare’s party, and Garon’s old group sighed in relief as Threadbare’s twin animator and Golemist buffs amped up their stats. Not by a HUGE amount, but enough to give them another edge.
Your Creator’s Guardians skill is now level 28!
Your Creator’s Guardians skill is now level 29!
Your Creator’s Guardians skill is now level 30!
“Here. De crowning touch.” Zuula offered Threadbare a wolfshide cloak.
“Where did that come from?” He glanced over to the slavering, ghouled where wolf, and didn’t see any bare patches, beyond a few wounds.
“Don’t ask how loot drop. Just put on de cape.”
“What does it do?”
“Enhance natural weapons. Like, oh, bear claws.”
“What?” Madeline said. “Oooh! I could... I... nah, you eahned that one the hahd way. But if you find a bettah cape, I got dibs on yah old one.”
“Adjust Outfit,” Threadbare said, and snapped the cloak tight in his hands until it was teddy sized. Then it went around him like a mantle.
Your Adjust Outfit skill is now level 5!
Cecelia got the Sheep’s fleece that it had worn, which evidently made the wearer seem less threatening to monsters. Then it was time to get moving, before the wooly bullies and their midboss minder reformed.
Threadbare Volume 3 Page 18
