Pengantar Psikologi Klinis

by Suprapti Sumarmo Markam

  I winced. It was tempting – they were a pretty fun group, notwithstanding the elf’s attitude and the gnome’s horndog-ness – but I had way too much on my plate to go questing.

  “Thanks, but I’ve gotta grind this dungeon until I pay off some debts.”

  “Alright,” the dwarf said as he climbed into the saddle on one of the horses. It was something of a process, seeing how tall the horse was and how short Hodin was. “I’ll put you on our Friends list, if that’s cool.”

  “Absolutely. I’ll do the same,” I said, and pulled up my computer menu and selected all of their names.

  “If we ever run across you again, we’ll have to do another dungeon dive.”

  “Count on it.”

  “See ya, Ian!” the gnome said from atop his ostrich.

  “You too, Shorty.”

  “See ya, Sugar Tits!” the gnome grinned at Meera and waggled his bushy eyebrows.

  She scowled and lit up her flaming sword.

  FWOOSH.

  “Or not,” the gnome said in alarm as he backed his ostrich away.

  “Bye, Ian!” the Druid called from his saddle on the Triceratops.

  “Don’t get too drunk,” the elf smirked from atop her horse.

  “After hanging around you all day, I have to,” I said, though I said it with a smile.

  “See you!” Hodin yelled, and all four of them took off across the desert sands.

  DAMN I’ve got to get to Level 20 and get me one of those…

  “What shall we do now?” Meera asked. “Do you wish to reenter the dungeon?”

  I looked back at the giant sandstone walls. Now that I knew all the secrets within, I wasn’t exactly itching to go back inside.

  I brought up my Bag windows and saw nearly every single slot was stuffed to the brim with worm glands, Sphinx feathers, and scarab carapaces. I wouldn’t have room for any more loot unless I offloaded some first.

  “No, let’s go sell my stuff first and get a new bag. Then we can celebrate.”

  Meera beamed happily – until I brought out my bottle of rum and uncorked it.

  “Why do you have to drink that?” she asked reproachfully.

  “Because the celebration’s starting now.”

  Stig held up his hands like a toddler wanting ‘up.’ “You got a bottle for me, right, boss?”

  I reached in my bag and passed down the rum I’d bought for him. “What, you don’t have to babysit me anymore?”

  “Not as long as we’re not sleeping in the gutter tonight.”

  “Oh, you’re definitely not sleeping in the gutter tonight,” Meera said, then smiled bashfully at me. “In fact, you might not be sleeping at all.”

  …oh, yeah…

  Another evening with Meera should have been something to look forward to – Stage Two of the celebration, you might say – but I was filled with apprehension.

  I thought of my action bar, and had to restrain myself from checking Alaria’s icon.

  Fuck it, she’s gone. Good riddance, I thought bitterly.

  Then I remembered something.

  Wait – Level 15 – I just got another demon!

  I pulled my Warlock summoning book out of my bag and opened its scuffed-up leather binding.

  That simple action brought me back to when I’d first summoned Alaria. I felt a sharp pang in my heart, but I ignored it.

  Sure enough, new words had appeared on the pages within. I sat down, placed the open book on the sand, and began reading aloud, trusting the game to put the correct pronunciations in my mouth and to guide my hands in the necessary arcane movements.

  As I spoke, my shadow began to move across the sand like water, as did Meera’s and Stig’s. All the shadows joined together and floated into the air, where they formed a five-foot-tall, black dust devil.

  “…what’s going on?” Meera whimpered.

  I ignored her as I continued my spell.

  The Soul Counter appeared in my upper left-hand vision. Apparently I had killed enough yetis and wolves in the Northern Wastes and scarabs, cobras, trolls, sandworms, and sphinxes here in the dungeon, because the number flashed and began dropping rapidly.

  Small forks of purple lightning sparked inside the whirlwind, and it picked up speed until it was kicking up a miniature sandstorm.

  There was one final bolt of lightning and crack of thunder. The whirlwind dissipated, and something circular dropped down amidst a cascade of falling sand.

  I leaned over and fished the half-buried object out of the dust. It was a collar made of a massive iron chain. The metal bars that formed the circular links were an inch in diameter, and the whole thing weighed at least ten pounds.

  Everything else was back to normal. The sun was shining, there was no wind, and the only shadows were those cast by our bodies.

  “What did you just do?” Meera demanded fearfully.

  “I had to forge a collar that will control whatever demon I summon.”

  “Why do you need another demon? You have me and the imp,” she said distastefully as she glanced down at Stig.

  Stig just gave her the ‘OK’ sign and fwap-fwap-fwapped his finger through it.

  “More demons means more allies to help with the dungeon,” I said as I placed the collar on the sand and sat down again in front of the book.

  “What are you doing NOW?” Meera whined.

  This was getting old fast.

  “I have to summon the demon and bind it,” I growled.

  “I really don’t think this is a good idea – more demons in the world is never a good idea. Why can’t you just – ”

  “Meera? Shut up,” I snapped.

  Her leather collar glowed, and suddenly her mouth clamped shut.

  Ahhhhh. Silence.

  She glared at me but I ignored her.

  “Just stand there and don’t do anything,” I ordered, figuring she might ignite her fire sword and start wreaking havoc.

  She pouted but didn’t move a muscle.

  I began reading the book again. This time tendrils of sand sprouted up from the ground like cobras and began to twist and spin in a column. It was like watching a pottery wheel, but one that used sand instead of clay, and with a pair of invisible hands fashioning the object’s shape.

  The column grew in size until it was ten feet tall. As I finished the last incantation, the spinning stopped and the sand fell back to earth like a curtain, revealing an intimidating figure.

  He was a big bugger all right, at least eight feet tall. A muscular brute with thick brown fur over every inch of his body. His face looked something like a gorilla’s, with big brown eyes under scowling brows. His mouth was full of inch-long, snaggle-toothed fangs. He wore a tattered blue tunic crisscrossed with the same type of iron chains that made up the collar now around his neck. He had giant ram’s horns curling from the sides of his head, and two massive bat wings on his back.

  ALRIGHT! Finally some muscle to beat the crap out of my enemies!

  The monster looked around in fury until its eyes found me.

  “YOU SUMMONED ME HERE, YOU PIECE OF FILTH?!”

  Okay, sort of an attitude, though.

  “Watch it, bud,” I snapped.

  “YOU WATCH ‘IT,’ WHATEVER ‘IT’ IS! I WILL NOT WATCH ‘IT’!” he howled, like I’d actually instructed him to keep an eye on a watermelon or something.

  “Just quiet down,” I ordered.

  “I WILL NOT QUIET DOWN, WARLOCK SCUM!”

  “Then SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I bellowed right back at him.

  The change in the demon’s demeanor was instantaneous.

  It shrank down and cowered like a puppy I’d rapped it on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.

  “…sorry,” it whimpered in a scared voice.

  I stared at him in shock. He’d gone from King Kong to Wugsley the Pug in two seconds flat.

  “You are seriously that wimpy?” I asked in disbelief.

  “I’m not wimpy,” the demon protested. “I’m just sensitive.”


  “…what?!”

  “You were mean to me,” the demon whined. “You hurt my feelings.”

  “Jesus,” I groaned.

  “Oh – is that Jesus?” Meera asked in surprise, pointing at the demon.

  “No it’s not Jesus,” I snapped. “It’s – what’s your name, anyway?”

  “Blutus,” the monster said.

  Like Bluto from Popeye crossed with the man who killed Julius Caesar.

  A good, badass name.

  Too bad it was wasted on this guy.

  I sighed and stepped forward to free him –

  And then reconsidered.

  The collar around Meera’s neck had proved awfully convenient today. I’d had to put up with 99% less shit from her because of it.

  And she didn’t mind the collar. Hell, she’d asked for it.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to keep Blutus’s collar on him, too.

  You know… just for a little while.

  I knew it was shitty of me to even be thinking about keeping him enslaved, but at the moment I had an impressive capacity for shitty rationalizations.

  After all, if Blutus decided I was so mean that he wanted to leave, he wasn’t going to be much help in the dungeon, now was he?

  Plus it might be better for everybody involved.

  Take Dorp, for instance.

  (As soon as I thought of how I’d treated the blue demon, I winced and pushed the thought out of my mind.)

  If I had kept a collar on Dorp, I could have just ordered him to be quiet all the time, and none of that unpleasantness would have ever happened.

  Of course, if you hadn’t been a drunken DICK, none of that unpleasantness would have happened, either.

  I pushed that thought out of my mind, too.

  Then I thought of Alaria and winced again.

  If I’d never taken that damn collar off her, she would have never broken my heart.

  And she wouldn’t have ever fallen in love with you, either. Not to mention that if you hadn’t tried to change her by going behind her back, she wouldn’t have LEFT you, asshole.

  I kept wrestling with my scruples, going back and forth.

  I knew what was right. I just didn’t want to admit it.

  I was right on the verge of giving in and doing the decent thing when Stig spoke up.

  “You’re not going to free him?”

  I could hear the alarm in his voice. It was like a pin pricking my conscience.

  Or an ugly-ass Jiminy Cricket pointing out what a douche I was being.

  And it made me angry.

  All the alcohol, guilt about Dorp, and anger at Alaria didn’t help, either.

  “Do you want another Dorp on our hands?” I shot back.

  “…no…” he murmured, conflicted.

  “Then be happy I’m not taking it off him yet. I’ll free him when he earns it.”

  “You’ll free me?” Blutus said, both hope and wonder in his voice.

  “When you earn it,” I repeated, trying to beat down my guilt by acting more like a dick. “You’re going to help me grind this dungeon and get as much gold out of it as possible – got it?”

  “Okay,” Blutus said gratefully, like I was doing something nice for him instead of treating him like shit. Which made me feel even worse.

  “Alright,” I grumbled, “let’s go.”

  “He’s coming HOME with us?!” Meera shrieked.

  “Yeah, so?” I snapped.

  She stared at Blutus and wrinkled her nose. “It’s just… he’s… a demon.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Warlocks summon,” I said sarcastically.

  “And he’s so big. And…”

  “And what?”

  She traced her finger shyly across her collar and flashed me her big doe eyes. “I was hoping we would have some privacy tonight when we… do things.”

  This time her words and tone of voice had the desired effect. (Probably because I was looking for any excuse to stop feeling bad about Blutus.) The crotch of my pants got a little tighter as I watched her caress the collar.

  Then I looked back at my new demon.

  He was eight feet tall and 400 pounds of muscle. Not really what I wanted hanging out in the next room while I was banging Meera.

  “Yyyyyeah… you’re going to stay out here tonight,” I told the big brute.

  Meera squealed and clapped her hands like an excited five-year-old.

  “What?!” Blutus yelped. “But – but it’s going to get dark!”

  “You’ll be fine,” I said as I started walking away.

  “But the dark is scary!”

  Seriously?

  First Dorp the helium-voiced fanboy, and now Blutus the giant crybaby?

  “That’s what you get for calling me human filth!” I shouted over my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry!” he moaned.

  “Boss,” Stig said reproachfully as he followed along beside me.

  “We’re not taking him home.”

  “I’m sorrrrrry!” Blutus called out pitifully.

  “He could go spend the night inside the city,” Stig suggested.

  “He’ll be fine. Look at him. Nobody’s going to bother him.”

  “Yeah, but – ”

  “I’m so, SO sorrrrrrryyyyy!” Blutus bawled.

  GOD. He was making me feel worse and worse by the second.

  “SHUT UP!” I yelled.

  “…sorry,” Blutus said in a tiny little voice.

  “Come on, boss,” Stig pleaded.

  “No. I need him here bright and early tomorrow morning when we start grinding, and I don’t want to go looking all over Exardus for him.”

  “Just tell him to be here when the sun comes up,” Stig suggested.

  “Yes! Yes, I could be here at sunup!” Blutus yelped.

  I stopped… sighed… and then scowled at Stig. “You’re friggin’ annoying sometimes, you know that?”

  “Yes, boss,” he said, though he shook his head ‘no.’

  I turned back to Blutus. “Alright, you’re free to go spend the night in Exardus – but I want you out by the main gate of the dungeon as soon as the sun comes up, you hear me?”

  “Yes – oh, yes, thank you!” Blutus said gratefully.

  “Why don’t you give him a couple silver so he can stay the night in an inn?” Stig suggested.

  “What?! Why would I do that?!”

  Stig shrugged. “It would be the nice thing to do.”

  “You and I slept in the gutter! He can sleep in the gutter!”

  “You and me were drunk, boss. I don’t think you want him getting drunk.”

  I looked back at the eight-foot-tall, fur-covered Arnold Schwarzenegger.

  No, I most definitely did not want him getting soused.

  Although he was probably a weepy drunk, judging by his behavior over the last few minutes.

  I hesitated… then made my decision.

  “No. We need every silver to pay off Varkus.”

  “Not even for alcohol?” the imp asked craftily.

  I glared at him. He was calling me a hypocrite – and he was right.

  Not that that mattered to me at the moment.

  I was about to let loose at him when he continued, “You know, boss… even though I’m free, I helped you in the dungeon. But you’re not paying me, so it’s like I’m still a slave.”

  My anger flared up even hotter – because I knew he was right again, and it made me feel even guiltier. “What, so now you want me to pay you?!”

  “No, no,” the imp said, putting his hands out calmly. “Just maybe give the new guy a couple of silvers for an inn, that’s all.”

  I scowled down at Stig.

  Jiminy Cricket was a pain in my ass.

  I reached in my bag, fished out a couple of coins, stomped over, and slapped them in Blutus’s hand. “You are to use that money ONLY for an inn – understand?”

  “Yes,” Blutus said happily.

  Stig cleared his throat. “Maybe some
food?”

  I shot more eye-daggers at Stig, then pulled out another silver coin. “And THIS is for food. That’s IT. And you’re going to be out here as soon as the sun comes up – understand?”

  “Oh, yes master, thank you, thank you,” Blutus said, almost weepy with gratitude.

  “And don’t call me ‘master,’” I barked.

  “Isn’t that what you are?” Blutus asked innocently.

  Shit.

  “Just – go and get a room at an inn,” I spluttered, and stomped off in the opposite direction. “And don’t drink any alcohol!”

  “Yes, mas– uh, sir!” Blutus said cheerfully.

  I walked grumpily back towards Exardus with Meera and Stig falling in line beside me.

  “Thanks, boss,” Stig said.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered as I took out my bottle of rum and took a big swig. “Let’s go unload my stuff, get a new bag, and take the rest of the day off.”

  21

  I decided to keep my necklace and ring – the added Intellect stats were just too good to give up – but I sold off the rest of my loot to a dwarf merchant in Exardus.

  All those worm glands and Sphinx tails and cobra fangs, in addition to the coins I’d scavenged from all the dead trolls, added up to a kingly sum of –

  …1 gold and 38 silver.

  Not the worst haul ever, but I wasn’t going to pay off Varkus doing one dungeon run a day, that was for sure.

  “What have you got in the way of bags?” I asked the NPC merchant. I figured I should get as many as I could so I didn’t have to keep running back to Exardus to unload after each dungeon dive.

  “Why, the best assortment in all of Exardus!” the dwarf blustered. “Hand-crafted bags, made of the finest – ”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I interrupted, “how much for a 10, 15, and 20-slot bag?”

  “A man with no time for small-talk – I respect that,” he said, though he was obviously pissed I’d interrupted him. “Two gold for the 10, five gold for the 15, and ten gold for the 20-slot.”

  If I’d been drinking a beer I would have done a spit-take. “WHAT?! That’s, like, twice the normal prices everywhere else!”

  The dwarf hrmphed. “I have the best prices in all of Exardus!”