Gathering Strength

by Aaron Jay

  Axe, Melee

  2/3 Novice Tasks Completed!

  Next up, I found myself in a low-rent colosseum. The walls were made of logs fitted into post-holes and tied to each other with rawhide straps. Sand covered the floor. Roughly joined wooden timbers built a single row of bleachers. The seats were empty. I guess no one wanted to watch tyro axe gladiators like me. Or they didn’t want to sit on benches that would give them a splinter in their ass.

  I still had my axe. And after days of swinging that thing, it really felt like my axe.

  Looking down at my clothes, it looked like I should be heading off to a BDSM (thanks Pitts for showing me what that acronym meant) rave. A lot of studded leather and bare skin.

  Well, with this setting I knew how this next task was going to go. The only question was who I was going to have to do the “Two man enter. One man leave!” thing with.

  On a second look, it wasn’t going to be, “Two man enter. One man leave,” after all. My first opponent was a goblin. He was about two-thirds my size. He was also wearing similar bondage wear. The line between violence and sex as entertainment is blurry. I was going to take care to keep this on the platonic side of things.

  He drew a short sword. He gave it a couple of practice swipes. He was a fast little bugger.

  A disembodied voice rang out.

  3…

  2…

  1…

  Begin!

  The goblin gave a hiss and sized me up. I held my axe at the ready but didn’t attack. I had never used an axe in combat and I decided to hold back.

  When I didn’t move, the goblin spat out a series of croaking words that I assumed were some sort of comment on my masculinity.

  “Fuck you too, mate,” I said.

  The preliminaries being finished, he came darting in on me. My axe swung a diagonal which he stutter stepped to avoid before coming in after it passed. His sword licked out and a shallow cut on my thigh began bleeding.

  I jumped back and he gave me a grin. It didn’t make him look any more attractive or friendly. Goblins have no periodontists in their tribes.

  He started feinting at me and I tried a number of different moves to parry or block with the axe. If there was a good method to fence with an axe, I wasn’t figuring it out. I got two more cuts and a total loss of six hp for my efforts.

  Ok. First rule of axe fighting: axes aren’t rapiers.

  I screamed incoherently and went on offense. My axe swung in a figure eight and I stepped in at him, trying to split him in two. This worked a lot better.

  He chittered and backed up but I was able to charge into him. We both knew that with one good hit from me, he was a goner.

  Here is a fun fact. It is easier to move forward than to move backward. I kept the pressure up. He tried to slip to the side and keep me from backing him up against the wall of the gladiator pit. But as I said, It is easier to keep up a forward offense than to dodge while going backward.

  His back foot felt the wall behind him. Unable to flee anymore, he tried to parry but an axe has all its weight out at the working end. It is all about momentum. He’d have to be a whole hell of a lot stronger to directly parry a swing from me. I smashed the sword out of his hand and the axe bit deeply into his shoulder, nearly separating his arm completely.

  Yanking the axe head free, I swung in from the other side.

  With that the battle was over.

  Across from my current position in the ring, another goblin appeared. This time he was armed with a spear. He offered me what I think was the same comment about my masculinity that his late brother did.

  The disembodied voice rang out.

  3…

  2…

  1…

  Begin!

  I rushed him. He set his spear, thinking I’d be dumb enough to spit myself. I stopped outside his range and used my axe as God intended. He was fighting me with a long stick, for Christ’s sake. The stick is the axe’s natural prey. In moments, he was fighting me with two short sticks, one of which had a spear point on it.

  After that I learned how to run an enemy down and axe him from behind. Not a lot of finesse to it.

  The next goblin appeared. He had a slingshot.

  3…

  2…

  1…

  Begin!

  I swung my axe in a figure eight as quickly as I could. It turns out that you can’t spin an axe fast enough to shield yourself from a sling stone. It passed right through my defense and smashed into my gut and I dropped, trying to gasp. He had another stone in his sling and rotating by the time I started to be able to breathe again. I stumbled to my feet and lurched into a dodge.

  Thankfully, he was no great shakes as a slinger. Stutter stepping and zig-zagging let me avoid his next few shots. I found that I could use the axe as a counterweight to help me turn a bit faster. Or maybe I just got lucky. Anyway, once I dodged another shot and closed with him, that fight was over.

  The next goblin was armed with an axe. This might be interesting.

  3…

  2…

  1…

  Begin!

  Nope. This fight wasn’t that interesting. Having an extra foot of reach and outweighing the goblin by one hundred pounds and generally being a meaner son of a bitch was the decisive factor. I did make note that if I fought someone larger and meaner than me, an axe might not be the best tool.

  Final Battle!

  This is of course when a familiar figure appeared. For a second, I thought it was my old friend Grumth. Thankfully it wasn’t the boss from The Mines of Madness! This was a massive yet generic level-nine kobold. The only other thing I could tell was that he wasn’t a Wyrmmdigger.

  He had about four inches on me and, best guess, he outweighed me by about fifty pounds. He wielded a crude axe that had a halfmoon blade on one side and a spike on the other. The shaft itself also ended in a wicked point.

  My axe was basically a simple village tool. A lot of weapons are just tools repurposed. My axe training up to now had been a lesson in how you can learn how to use something in productive ways and then take that knowledge onto the battlefield.

  This kobold’s axe was never meant to split logs--just enemies.

  The lesson of my last fight was 1) be bigger, 2) be meaner or 3) maybe try something other than an axe. Option three was out. I couldn’t equip Wyrmmdigger’s Bane. I only had my axe. Option one was a bust. I wasn’t about to hit a fortuitous growth spurt. The only thing left was option two: be a meaner son of a bitch.

  But first, I collapsed to the sandy ground, briefly giving in to my exhaustion as the disembodied voice counted down.

  3…

  2…

  1…

  Begin!

  With that word, I sprang up. We both put on our war faces and rushed to the attack. When we got about three yards from each other, I slowed down slightly and then threw the sand I had grabbed into his eyes while spinning off to the left.

  He growled and came after me, blinking tears. His axe spun in circles. His extra reach kept me from being able to strike him without coming through his strike zone. His extra mass let him spin his axe faster than I could have moved that massive thing.

  Partially blinded, he was moving more cautiously. Not a great idea in an axe fight.

  I threw my hand at his face again and he flinched, thinking I had more sand. It was just a feint though. I used his slight hesitation to let me make a chopping attack. I didn’t try going for his torso, or legs, or head or anything like that. I went after his hand.

  My axe blade skree’ed down the shaft of his battle-axe and took a piece of his thumb.

  After that he had trouble pivoting his axe, especially from high and inside down to low and outside. Mission accomplished, I began backing up.

  I began making all my counterattacks from his outside and, whenever I could get away with it, I hit his axe, forcing his grip against his wound. His bleeding wasn’t doing his grip any favors either.

  He pressed his attacks an
d I gave ground as we circled the arena. But whenever I could, I’d force him to stress his thumb.

  His grip was holding but I could see that it was an effort. It was a question of whether he would break through my defense or I would get some advantage from the one small wound I had managed.

  We fell into a rhythm that he was happy with. I tried again and again to get some mileage out of his hand wound. He was too tough though and the wound too minor. He thought he knew what I was up to.

  It’s a mistake to expect your enemy always to do what you expect. He was relying on me to keep attacking from the side that took advantage of his wound.

  Committing everything to a spin and swing from the opposite side, I cut most of the way through his forearm. He shouldn’t have trusted me to stick with our rhythm. I can be a mean son of a bitch.

  After that I chipped away at him until he collapsed.

  Axe, Melee

  3/3 Novice Tasks Completed!

  The empty stands were filled with the same silence at my victory as they would have been at my defeat. This mini-game lacked drama. Could have been worse. I might have spent a month practicing yoga.

  Now I had one more tool to bring to the table. If I just learned the basics of spears, war hammers, daggers, bows, slings, and more, I’d be the match of a typical novice warrior. My luck stat was still a son of a bitch.

  It was time to check on the Game once again.

  My little slice of the Crib was still a dustbowl. I couldn’t help but check every day in the hopes that it would have started resurrecting.

  Part of me wanted to go talk to Patricia but I didn’t want to run the risk of encountering anyone from the Eastmans. I didn’t think they could tell from my face that I wasn’t stuck in the belly of the Sarlacc, but I wasn’t willing to run the risk.

  Go play for a while. Enjoy. You have no responsibilities. Live for the moment…

  I ignored the voice telling me to dive into the pleasures of the Pitts. I went back to the Hardcore Play Manual and chose some other skills to start learning.

  Did you know that if you are willing to dislocate your thumb or shoulder it is almost impossible to tie you up so that you can’t escape? That was a painful lesson to learn. After the final exam, I’m probably going to have an ache in my shoulder every time it rains.

  Escape Artist (novice)

  You are a slippery devil. You are now an artist and ropes, chains and manacles are your medium.

  Checking again, my valley was still a wasteland. No reason to freak out. It was nearly impossible that Brady would have fixed things this quickly.

  There are thirteen different tells that can let you know if someone is bluffing. Could you name them? I learned how to spot them and, more importantly, how to avoid making them. My ability to deceive and bluff was honed. For instance, there are actually fifteen tells. I bet you believed me before.

  Bluff (novice)

  The whole world runs on bluff - Player Garvey.

  You have the power to convince people of most anything. At least that is your story--we’ll see if they buy it.

  Every day I’d abandon some training scenario or tell some instructor I’d be back and pass by all the temptations of the Pitts to see when the land would show signs of new life. The days passed and still the land didn’t change.

  When the seventh day since my “death” by Sarlacc came and went I felt a small point of fear, but I ignored it. I didn’t know exactly when Brady would learn that I was trapped in the Sarlacc’s stomach or when he would be able to end the Fallowing. Today was just the soonest that things could have returned to normal.

  The next day nothing had changed either.

  I made my way through the dust and emptiness to the edge of the Crib. The slow ebb and flow of the barrier still offered a thin strip of life. I walked along the line harvesting what I could. I found some nodding yucca, giant saccaton grass and desert beardtongue. They were all seedlings. It would take me forever to finish my gathering quest if I just ran back and forth along the thin barrier grabbing its tiny bounty.

  Obsessing over my situation wasn’t useful. Brady had to choose to Fallow the land for a week. He couldn’t just turn it on and off. Since I had no idea what day he had chosen to turn it on, nor what day he found out I was trapped in the Sarlacc, there might not be a change for most of this week.

  The pit of my stomach grew a small knot. I’d just have to wait.

  I was sick of learning skills that I might not use for who knows how long. Nothing I had learned would even help me push towards completing the Gathering Quest.

  Just waiting was bad for my mental health.

  Once more through the temptations of the Pitts to the Hardcore Play Manual. Poring over the endless choices, I found one possibility. There was one skill I could learn that would increase what I could generate from the meager offerings here at the Crib’s edge.

  Small steps are better than no steps. A click and I was off.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  My consciousness was in a holding pattern. The usual kinesthesia was absent. Everything was just blank. Neither dark nor light. An absence of all shape, color and form.

  3…

  2…

  1…

  Hardcore Player Mode engaged…

  Sector YYZ.18.2112. Initiliazed…

  AI Cygnus X-1 resources insufficient…

  Redirecting sub-personalities…

  Magic tutor: x301nrn MaddietheBruja…

  MaddietheBruja insufficient… enabling further resources…

  Subroutine Primary nrn enabled…

  Oh God. I wasn’t sure what all the handwavium that I saw meant but it did seem like the system didn’t think Maddie was up to the job.

  Have I mentioned that the tutor for this skill was supposed be Maddie the Bruja?

  My last encounter with Maddie hadn’t left me enamored of her teaching methods. As the local magic trainer in Quartzite, she had sliced my eyes out and thrown me to my enemies. What would her replacement do to me?

  It was too late to exit the teaching scenario. There was no reason to assume that the sim I was about to head into would be worse. After all, what could be worse than slicing my eyes out and throwing me to my enemies?

  This is what happens when you’re left hanging in some sort of cosmic loading screen. Your mind just tempts the universe. I might as well have thought about how I only had two days till retirement, or taking one last deadly mission.

  The blankness of wherever my mind had been stored turned into mundane fog. Grass crunched beneath my feet. I heard voices chanting and I made my way toward them.

  “Fillet of a fenny snake,

  In the cauldron boil and bake;

  Eye of newt and toe of frog,

  Wool of bat and tongue of dog,

  Adder's fork and blind-worm's sting,

  Lizard's leg and owlet's wing,

  For a charm of powerful trouble,

  Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.”

  Three old hags stood over a cauldron. They were brewing something and this was apparently the recipe. None of them was Maddie but they could have been her elderly aunts. And it wasn’t like Maddie was young.

  We were on a moor lost in fog. When the fog thinned for just a moment, I could see parts of a bleak heath with the remains of a battle.

  Together they all chanted, “Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.”

  This was just a training scenario, or so I told myself. There was no reason to fear three old ladies. Virtual ones at that.

  Walking over, I looked into the cauldron. Bits of… things floated in the roiling cauldron.

  One of the hags noticed my revulsion and she laughed.

  “Whatsa matter sonny, no appetite?”

  “Sorry. No. That looks… bad.”

  They all laughed at my comment.

  “You are so cute,” said one.

  “I could just eat you up,” said another, eying me with more literalness than I’d
have liked.

  The last witch had remained quiet. When she spoke her two sisters quieted.

  “In sterquiliniis invenitur,” she said. The other two nodded and returned to minding their brew.

  “Pardon me. Were those magic words for your potion?” I asked.

  The first two witches cackled like I had made a huge joke and the third even cracked a slight smile. Then they each gave me an answer or two.

  “No.”

  “Yes”

  “For all potions.”

  “For everything.”

  “All words are magic.”

  “Words aren’t magic.”

  They could see that I was still confused. The serious one sighed and answered.

  “It’s an old alchemical dictum. In sterquiliniis invenitur. In filth it will be found.”

  “What will be found?”

  Once again I got laughter.

  “Isn’t that the question?”

  “Exactly.”

  They settled down. I tried again.

  “I’m here to try and learn alchemy.”

  The cheeriest of the wrinkled old faces looked at me gravely, “Do, or do not, there is no try.”

  Great. A Yoda quote.

  She cackled when she saw that I recognized the line.

  The second witch shushed her sister.

  The third nodded and explained.

  “‘What you most want to find will be found where you least want to look.’ That might be another translation of ‘In sterquiliniis invenitur’”

  “Well, don’t take this as an insult but I’m here to find out how to practice alchemy. You three may be a bit old for me but I wouldn’t say you are the place I’d least like to look.”