Pendrackon

by Aaron Oster

  Before he could test that theory, the wagon jolted a couple of times, then they were riding along a cracked stone road. Looking up ahead, he could just barely make out a dilapidated sign through the fog, and even further, he could make out a cluster of dark shapes. Within a few moments, they were close enough to read it, and Sam finally realized where they were going.

  The indistinct shapes now made more sense, and soon, he could see the faces of pal-tees popping out of the fog. They were all glaring at them with those beady eyes and tossing rocks from one hand to the other. It looked like they’d found their first pal-tee village.

  6

  The lopsided sign had the words Old Circle painted in sloppy letters. Judging by how old and rotten the wood was, it wouldn’t be standing for much longer. The pal-tees didn’t seem concerned, leaving the outskirts and heading into the village proper. He looked around. The ramshackle collection of filthy huts that were surrounding a small open area could hardly be called an actual village.

  A single pal-tee stood in the open space, stirring a cauldron of some foul-smelling greenish liquid over an open fire. Next to the pal-tee stood a wicker cage littered with bones and rotting scraps of clothing. Sam didn’t even want to think about what those cages may have once held.

  “Ugh! Please tell me you don’t eat that shit!” Emma complained, once again pinching her nose.

  “Watch your mouth, woman! That is the food of great Hersh Deerinshtain, greatest cook ever in Old Circle!”

  “His knubble stew is best ever!” crowed another pal-tee.

  “I cannot wait to eat!”

  Both Sam and Emma nearly gagged when there was a collective rumbling of stomachs. If he’d thought the Overlord was a sick bastard before, this brought him to a whole new level of depraved. It seemed he didn’t only enjoy making unrealistic women or forcing everyone to eat only stew. He also had to make a race of cannibalistic nutjobs who made skunks smell minty fresh by comparison!

  The wagon came to a shuddering halt outside the largest hovel in the nasty village, and Hoze Butcher approached the back of the wagon.

  “You try to run, I kill you,” he said simply, then unlocked the cage.

  Gordon got out first, wrinkling his nose and growling at anyone who came too close. Emma went next, Barry perching on her shoulder, and all animosity between them was apparently forgotten. Sam exited last, noting that they weren’t even trying to tie them. This meant that Hoze Butcher was confident in his abilities and they had little chance of making a getaway.

  Once he was out of the cart, he found himself surrounded by pal-tee men, all muttering angrily under their breaths. While Emma pinched her nose and made a gagging gesture, Sam forced himself to keep his hands down. Then the door was opened and a stench unlike anything he’d smelled before washed over him.

  “Holy fucking shit!” he cried, eyes watering. “Did something die in there!?”

  “Yes,” Hoze said, then shoved him into the house.

  Stumbling as he entered, Sam had to blink to clear his eyes of the fog that permeated the room. The stench was so bad that he felt like it would knock him out. Emma was forced in a moment later, but Gordon and Barry were kept outside. Apparently, they didn’t seem to realize that they were more than just pets.

  “What is this place?” Sam asked, blinking rapidly as his eyes tried to adjust to the dim interior of the tent.

  Hoze Butcher entered the room then, closing the door behind him. He approached what looked like a pile of filthy blankets, then bowed at the waist.

  “Great Chief. We haff brought pal-tee killers here. How do you judge?”

  Both Sam and Emma’s eyes widened as what they had taken to be a pile of rags, shifted and slowly sat up. It was massive and very obviously the source of the god-awful smell. It looked like a pal-tee, but everything about it was just bigger, fatter, and more disgusting. The most obvious difference was the tall cap that sat upon its head, which was made of fur instead of cloth.

  “Hoze, you bring me killers? Why you not send to pens?”

  The voice of the chief was deep and gravely, as though he’d smoked ten packs of cigarettes a day for the last fifty years.

  “Only one kill,” Hoze said, pointing to Sam. “So Chief must judge.”

  The Chief let out a long sigh, then hoisted itself – he still couldn’t tell if it was male or female – off what Sam could now see was a bed. He used Inspect as the Chief trundled over to a chair made of what looked to be reinforced steel, though he could have been mistaken.

  PAL-TEE

  Name: Getzel Hozentrager

  Gender: Male?

  Class: Chief-Massive-Blockade-Warrior

  Level: 56 - HP: 6,200/6,200 - MP: 2,100/2,100 - STA: 1,900/1,900

  Status: Annoyed

  Greatest Threat: Unknown

  Sam audibly gulped at the Chief’s level and massive stats. He made Millicent look like a weakling in comparison. His Stamina was actually lower than Hoze’s, but it was still a lot. And that wasn’t to mention his absolutely enormous HP pool. His fairly large MP also meant he could use magic. Sam had learned one thing, at least, and that was that the title of Chief was also part of his Class, not that it helped him at all. If they’d stood no chance against Hoze Butcher, then this Getzel could squash them flat without so much as moving.

  The Chief sighed as he took a seat, the chair groaning in protest as his massive bulk settled into it. As soon as he sat, a flap in the back of the room opened, and a woman bustled out. Sam blinked, rubbing at his eyes to make sure the fumes weren’t making him see things.

  Nope, that was a pal-tee woman, alright.

  She looked nothing like he’d imagined. In other words, she matched the same level of hotness he’d seen in just about every woman here so far. Which made absolutely zero sense! Where the pal-tee men were disgusting and fat, the woman was slim and curvy. Though her clothes were dirty, her skin was clean and fresh.

  Now that he could see one of them without all the dirt, he could see that their complexion was somewhere between an off-yellow and olive color. Her hair was short and neat. Her eyes were quite larger than the men’s, wide and expressive.

  “Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Emma exclaimed as the woman handed the Chief a bowl of something.

  “Do not speak in front of Chief!” Hoze snapped.

  “But come on!” Sam put in, “Is that his wife?!”

  The woman didn’t even turn to look at them, keeping her eyes downcast.

  “Leave, Vaab, dis is for men only,” the Chief grunted, lifting the bowl and slurping noisily.

  “I guess she is,” Emma muttered as the woman scurried from the room. “Poor girl.”

  “Vaab is luckiest woman in all Old Circle!” Hoze snapped. “She married to Chief. Get much respect and food. Other women love her and do what she say! She a holy woman!”

  “If she’s so holy, then why does that slob treat her like she’s his personal slave?” Emma demanded.

  “You not understand pal-tee ways, human female,” Hoze said with a shake of his head.

  “No, they not understand,” the Chief said, lowering the bowl and glaring at the two of them. “I see on their foreheads. They both guilty. Take to pens, eat in morning stew.”

  “Yes, Chief!” Hoze replied.

  “Wait! That’s it?” Sam exploded. “Can’t we even plead our case?”

  “The Chief has spoken,” Hoze said. “No argument.”

  “Like hell!” Sam yelled, reaching for his staff. “I’m not just gonna let you sacks of sewage eat me!”

  A massive explosion of fire flared around the Chief as he triggered his Over-Burn ability. Before he could launch another spell, something slammed into both him and Emma, sending them to the ground. Gasping for air and feeling like he was slowly being crushed, Sam forced his head up. His heart sunk nearly to his boots when he looked to see what happened.

  The fire around the Chief was vanishing fast, not even leaving him with so much as a scorch mark. His eye
s were narrowed, though, and his lips were pulled back in a nasty snarl.

  “No one attacks Chief!” he roared, shaking the entire hovel with his fury. “I see you have pet with forehead read. I was goink to let go, but now we eat them too!”

  Damage notifications and debuffs began flashing before his eyes as the Chief’s fury seemed to only grow, pressing him further into the ground. Sam found himself unable to breathe from the crushing force and soon began losing health as his vision grew fuzzy. Then, just as quickly as it had started, the pressure vanished, and the Chief slumped back in his chair.

  “I tired now. This not work for Chief. Hoze Butcher, you take to pens. Then hit yourself for lettink them attack.”

  Sam started to get up, staring in incredulity as the Chief merely fell asleep. Before either he or Emma could do anything to the tyrannous Chief, they were dragged to their feet by Hoze and ushered out of the house. He didn’t even seem angry, only annoyed.

  “You make Chief work too hard, now he tired. You make good stew for Chief breakfast, so it okay.”

  Struggle as they might, neither of them could break the man’s grip.

  “Brink animals, too. Chief say they go in stew!” Hoze declared as he kicked the door closed behind him.

  The gathered pal-tees let out a collective cheer, then began ushering them toward the pens in the town square, set up next to the large cauldron.

  “Don’t touch me, you grubby bastard!” Emma yelled, slamming a fist into one of the pal-tee’s faces and driving him to the ground.

  For that crime, she found herself pelted with rocks.

  “You stay here. We eat tomorrow,” Hoze said, throwing them bodily into the cage, then slamming the door closed.

  As soon as the door was locked, the pal-tee simply turned and walked away. Sam was sure they’d leave a guard or something, but shockingly enough, everyone left.

  “Are they seriously this stupid?” Sam wondered as he looked around the now deserted village square. “Do they think this wicker cage can hold us?”

  “I am afraid it can and will,” Gordon said with a sigh. “It may look flimsy, but I can assure you that it is stronger than steel.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he snorted, then targeted the bars with a Mana Shot.

  You deal: -107 Damage to Wicker Pen (Mana Shot).

  Remaining Durability: 1,255,701/1,500,000

  “What? Oh, you have got to be shitting me!” Sam exclaimed.

  How the hell could a wicker cage be so strong? Damn fantasy tropes!

  While Sam went off on a profanity-laced tirade, the others simply sat down and tried to get comfortable. Gordon and Barry seemed forlorn, not really saying much. Emma looked thoughtful, as though trying to come up with some way out of their predicament. Finally, Sam ran out of steam and slumped to the ground as well.

  Though it had been a long day, it was only about three in the afternoon. Which meant that they still had some time to try and figure out a way to escape.

  “Can you pick the lock?” he asked Emma hopefully.

  “I’m a Warrior Class,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Not a Thief.”

  “Is there even a Thief Class in this game? Wait a minute, aren’t you and Barry Rogues?” Sam asked, turning to Gordon.

  “Yes, what of it?” the dog replied, now chewing on a stick he’d pulled from his storage.

  “Can you pick a lock?”

  “Do I look like I have opposable thumbs, simian?”

  “Useless, patronizing mutt,” Sam muttered.

  “What I’d like to know,” Emma said, cutting in before a fight could break out. “Is how that Hoze guy and the Chief were so strong.”

  “Yeah,” Sam said, his curiosity getting the better of him. “I was wondering about that, too.”

  “Because all of your attributes double at level 35,” Gordon replied. “And then again at 55, and a third time at 75.”

  “Really? I had no idea,” Emma replied. “Why, though?”

  “This was a system put in place by our Illustrious Overlord as an incentive to grow and think ahead. If one is smart and hard-working, they can benefit greatly from making it that far. In addition, the Overlord wished to place a gap in strength at certain points, so a level 1 could not simply don Divine-level gear and kill a level 100.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” Sam muttered. “Though wouldn’t it make more sense to offer the incentives on the quarter levels?”

  “Of course not,” Gordon scoffed. “Why ever would he do that?”

  Because it makes more sense, you damned mutt! Sam screamed internally.

  “Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer,” Barry piped up, pulling a sprig of spray millet from his storage and beginning to munch on it.

  Sam’s fingers twitched, and he had to fight the urge to launch himself at the bird and strangle it to death.

  “Enough of that,” Emma said, eyeing the empty village square. “It seems like they’ve left us alone for now, so we have to try and find some way out of here.”

  Calming himself, Sam nodded. It was hard to keep a cool head in stressful situations like this. Especially where being eaten was on the line. But Emma seemed to be calm enough, so he decided that it would be unbecoming of him to act like a spoiled child. They had a good few hours to figure out how to escape and Sam planned to use every second he had.

  7

  “So, nearly nine hours of planning and it all comes down to ‘kick them in the shins and run.’”

  Sam rubbed at his temples, feeling a serious headache threatening to overwhelm him at any moment. Emma shrugged, giving him a tired grin.

  “Hey, I said we needed a plan. I never said I was good at coming up with them.”

  “I guess we’re going to be eaten,” Sam sighed, leaning back against the cage bars and looking up at the moon above.

  It was getting close to midnight, and he could feel himself losing hope. No matter how they’d looked at it, there was no way for them to escape. Hoze Butcher would likely be here when the time came to kill them and there was little either of them could do to stop him. And, even if by some miracle they could, there was still the Chief, and he’d demonstrated earlier that even Sam’s most powerful ability could do nothing to harm him.

  “You know,” Emma said, breaking him from his thoughts. “Since we are probably gonna die and all…Wanna do it?”

  Sam looked over to see her biting her lip and tugging suggestively at the lapel on her robe. The robe already showed so much cleavage in the first place that it really wouldn’t take much for her to fully bare herself. And seeing as how not a shred of material could be seen, it was obvious that she wasn’t wearing a bra under there. He opened his mouth to immediately shut her down, when he paused.

  Why not? he thought, running the idea over in his head.

  They were going to die in the morning, and he didn’t want to die a virgin. Emma was smoking hot and practically throwing herself at him. Both Barry and Gordon were asleep, so they wouldn’t be able to see anything.

  Emma leaned in then, crawling towards him on all fours, and if not for the deep shadow cast by the moon, he would be able to see pretty much everything. His heart began to pound, and he froze in place, watching her crawl ever closer.

  “I can see that you’re finally willing to give it a try, huh, big boy?” Emma whispered.

  Despite his best efforts, Sam could feel himself rising to the occasion. He quickly tried to scoot back, but Emma was already on him.

  “No need to be shy. It’s not like I haven’t seen him before.”

  “Umm…” Sam said intelligently.

  “Just relax. I promise you’ll enjoy yourself,” Emma whispered into his ear, causing Sam to shiver in response.

  He sat there, frozen, Emma’s face mere inches from his as she began trailing her fingers down his chest. Her breath hitched slightly as she reached the waistband of his pants, and Sam realized that she was just as excited, if not more so, than he was. She leaned just a bi
t closer, her green eyes sparkling and her red lips shining softly. Sam closed his eyes, waiting…

  Beeeehhhhhh!

  Sam jerked, throwing Emma off him, his eyes snapping open as a terrifying roar sounded through the night. It was like that of a goat, only deep and gravelly. It was as though someone was trying to imitate the sound a goat made and ramping the creep factor up to eleven.

  “What the fuck was that?!” Emma exclaimed, staring around wildly.

  The mood was well and truly broken, both of them now far too preoccupied with being scared to focus on anything else.

  Beeeehhhhhh!

  The sound came again, this time from further to their right. Gordon and Barry both awoke, the dog barking, and the bird squawking.

  “What ever is that horrid racket?” Gordon demanded, his ears lying flat, and his teeth bared.

  “No clue,” Sam replied, now up on his feet with his staff drawn. “But whatever it is, I really hope it doesn’t decide to come here.”

  Emma was on her feet as well, her sword now drawn, and he got a good look at it for the first time. The blade was colored a solid black, with a wavy silver pattern along the wider end. It had a light sheen about, as though it was pulling the moonlight into itself.

  There was a loud crash from somewhere in the village, followed by a scream. Then, pal-tees began streaming out of their houses, all scrambling for rocks and dashing off into the distance. The terrifying roar came again, further away this time, and now that they’d had time to adjust, Sam finally saw the blinking notifications.

  Debuff gained: Terror (Tier IV). Duration: S 19

  Looking back, he could see that the Terror debuff had been of an even higher level the first time he’d heard it. It was no wonder they’d both reacted the way they had. Still, they remained on guard, watching as pal-tees rushed about the village. At some point, Hoze Butcher left the Chief’s house and walked to the perimeter of the village. He’d shaken his head then and headed back to the Chief’s house.