Last Bastion

by Rachel Aaron

  "Watch it do what?" Frank yelled, but Tina was already inside, stomping through the auditorium-sized main hall and out the back toward the good cooking she could now smell on the wind.

  Her body didn't even react. As a stonekin, Tina had no interest in real food. She was fueled by magical rocks, and she didn't even seem to need one of those every day. As such, she hadn't even thought about breakfast, which was kind of nice in an efficient, no-need-to-worry-about-pesky-biology sort of way. For the fleshy members of her raid, though, breakfast seemed to be as important as screwing, because when she reached the Cooking Trainer's hut, the place was overrun. The crowd was so thick, she couldn't even get through the door. She was still trying when she spotted Killbox coming out with something golden and delicate-looking clutched in his giant hands.

  "Morning, boss!" he said cheerfully.

  Tina reached out to grab his shoulder, pointing at the thing in his palm, which couldn't possibly be what it looked like. "What is that?"

  "French croissant," he said, taking a giant bite of the crustiest, flakiest, most buttery pastry Tina had ever seen.

  "Where in the hell did we get croissants?"

  "I dunno," Killbox said. "But there're plenty more if you want one."

  Roxxy didn't care. Tina, however, had never wanted something more in her life. She pushed past the still-eating Berserker into the kitchen. The moment she walked inside, the smell of freshly baked bread filled her senses. Dozens of players were packed into hastily arranged tables, eating folded omelets, croissants, and entire loaves of fresh bread with butter. Others were eating sausages and grits topped with a sweet vinegar-reduction sauce and caramelized onions. One table at the back was yelling something about more crème brûlée, and a fire-spec Sorcerer in the kitchen laughed as he said he could only cast so fast. She was still staring at it all in dumbstruck wonder when NekoBaby grabbed her arm.

  "Roxxy! Come sit with me!"

  Tina let herself be pulled over to a heavy-duty stool.

  The cat-girl sat down next to her with a giant plate heaped full of bacon and sausage. "Chai tea latte?" she asked, offering Tina her mug.

  Tina took it dumbly, staring at the adorable image of a happy cat someone had drawn on the surface with foam art. "Neko," she said when her brain finally started working again. "What in the world is going on? Where did all this amazing food come from?"

  "Ish--mmph..." The jubatus paused to swallow a mouthful of bacon. "It's coming from awesome town, that's what! Get this: profession skills are legit now. If you've maxxed out cooking, that means you're a world-class chef! We found that out this morning when JordanRamsey over there volunteered to cook. Dude just grabbed a pan and started churning out soufflés. Then the herbalists figured out which local plants matched which herbs from back home and booyah! Welcome to Camp Comeback's gourmet cafeteria. Here, try some!"

  The cat-girl grabbed a piece of thick-cut bacon and pointed it at Tina's face like a weapon. The smell of the perfectly cooked smoked pork filled her senses like a promise. Looking at it, she already knew that the texture would be both succulent and crispy. She thought about how good it would taste, how the perfectly rendered fat would melt on her tongue. How it wasn't a fucking magical rock.

  But as wonderful as her human memory told her the bacon would be, her body didn't want it. It didn't want any of this amazing food--not the warm mug of tea in her hands or even a coffee. It didn't care about sex, didn't want to be kissed or touched. It was a fucking stone robot that ran on air, water, and magical goddamn rocks.

  Staring at the perfect piece of bacon she wasn't ever going to eat, Tina didn't know if she wanted to laugh, cry, or kill something. After her horrible night, violence almost won. She could already see herself leaping to her feet in rage and flipping the table over, cursing the whole irresponsible room right out the door. But as righteous as that would make her feel, it was just being the monster again--a giant child throwing a tantrum because everyone else had food and sex and knew where their loved ones were, and she didn't.

  But Tina was determined not to be that person anymore. It didn't matter if she had to drag herself kicking and screaming to get there. She was going to be a goddamn raid leader, a good one who didn't flip tables. So, instead of screaming, Tina put NekoBaby's chai tea latte down on the table and stood up to face the crowd. They'd been watching her, too, proof that everyone still saw her as a threat, because they all went quiet as she rose.

  "What do you think you're doing?"

  The whole room looked down at their plates, fidgeting under her disapproving gaze like kids with their hands caught in the cookie jar.

  "I know it's tempting to slack off now that we're no longer on the run," she said. "But there's an army out there getting ready to attack us, and most of you don't have weapons or armor yet. There are still players out there hiding like rats to avoid being captured and tortured. Some of you were those players just yesterday, and yet you're in here making latte art and baking pastries. I told you last night that we'd be giving out quests so that everyone could pitch in and make sure we all don't die. I was there this morning, but you were all too busy fucking and eating fancy food to show up."

  People winced at that, but unlike back in the Room of Arrivals, Tina was glad to see it, because they weren't wincing at her. They were cringing in shame, which meant she had a hope of derailing this hedonism train without having to be an ogre about it.

  "Mealtime's over," she said, pointing at the chefs, who instantly scattered. "The kitchen's closed until tonight. If you want to eat, you'll have to work for it, so wipe your mouths, grab whatever gear you have, and meet me in the courtyard to get your quests."

  With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out, finally giving in to her rage as she stomped back to her table in the courtyard. Frank wisely said nothing when she appeared, just brushed off her seat so Tina could sit back down. She was restacking the notes she'd made when the first of the players scuttled into the courtyard and started forming a line in front of her.

  ***

  The quests idea worked even better than she'd hoped.

  From the moment she'd closed down the kitchen, her table had been crowded with a steady stream of players patiently waiting for work. Part of Tina wanted to stay belligerently angry, but that was just her grief over bacon and croissants talking. It was hard to be actually mad when everyone who came up seemed to eager to help out, but she kept up the gruff exterior, anyway. It kept the line moving better.

  "Name, level, class, and professions, please," she said to the ichthyian in front of her.

  "Julia, level thirty-five, Assassin," the skinny fish-girl replied at once. "I'm only halfway through leatherworking, though."

  Tina eyed her ratty leather armor and lack of weapons and made a note on her list. "I can't give you a combat quest because of the Bastion and your lack of weapons, but we have lots of medium-armor classes with broken gear. Go to the leather workers' hut and craft ten suits of level-thirty Dustwalker armor. Do that, and you'll get a set of Dustwalker Blades."

  The girl's fish eyes lit up at the mention of new weapons, and Tina bit back a grin. Not five minutes ago, she'd given another player a job to make a batch Dustwalker Blades in exchange for a suit of Dustwalker Armor. When both jobs were finished, they'd both be rewarded, and she'd still have nine extra of each. This quest-giver deal was such a scam. She just wished it wasn't costing her an entire base's worth of crafting supplies to run it. Even with the materials cost, though, it was totally worth it. Everyone stayed busy, her army was gearing up, and once they all had weapons, she had plenty more work that needed to be done. And speaking of.

  "Here's your quest," Tina said, handing the girl a paper with the basics--name, level, make ten sets of this armor, get this sword as reward--scrawled across it. "Once you're armed, combat quests will be available if you want them. Now scoot on over to Frank, and he'll put you on the master list so we know where you are and what you're doing. Once that's taken care of, you can get
to work."

  The blue-scaled girl gave Tina one of those horrible, piranha-mouthed ichthyian smiles. "Thanks, Roxxy!" she said as she hurried over to the line in front of Frank.

  "Welcome," Tina said, turning to the next person. "State your--"

  "BouncyMako," the male jubatus said excitedly. "Level sixty, Ranger, bowyer, herbalist. Ready to fight!"

  "So I see," Tina said, checking him over. "You have a decent weapon, and level sixty's high enough." She nodded and looked him in the face. "We have an unknown number of Royal Knight patrols in our immediate area. Not enough to attack us directly, but they're still watching our movements and harassing the lower-level players who are out scavenging. There are several level-eighty groups already in the city, doing kill quests for knights, but they need help. Get up to the rooftops, and tell them where the targets are. Assist in the elimination of five Royal Knight patrols, and you'll get..."

  The Ranger had functional weapons and armor, which meant she couldn't offer gear, but they had almost no money to give out, and "experience points" weren't a thing anymore. Then she noticed the cat-man's boots were an awful mustard color, which usually meant they were a shit loot drop from below level sixty.

  "And you'll get a rare set of level-sixty boots," she finished.

  "Upgrade! Rock on!" BouncyMako said with a fist pump.

  Smiling at her cleverness, Tina sent him off to Frank. "Next!"

  "Next" was a timid-looking level-twenty Knight. He was one of those players who were too low-level to be of any use in combat, and he had no crafting professions at all. That was fine, though. Tina still had something he could do.

  "Take a sack from the pile behind me and fill it with food any way that you can," she ordered. "You can use fishing, hunting, looting the nearby city, whatever. Just don't use any food you find here in the base, and if you go into the city, watch out for Royal Knights. We have scouts and killer-teams out there running sweeps, so if you get in trouble, just call for help. If you complete this quest, you will be rewarded with Camp Comeback faction points."

  The Knight's shoulders slumped. "Just faction points? Not gear?"

  He wasn't high-level enough to be worth making gear for, but there was no good in telling him that, so Tina went for another angle. "Faction points are vital," she said. "If you don't get some points every day, you don't eat. Don't get any for two days, and it gets even less pleasant. There will be rare food items and easier work opportunities as your points increase, so it's worth it. Just keep at it."

  The lowbie knight grabbed his sack and grumbled his way over to Frank.

  When she was sure he wasn't going to cause a stink, Tina moved on to the next person. And the next. And the next and the next. She sent people out for food, lumber, cloth, scrap metal, stone, and more. Anything they could possibly use that someone could carry, she sent players out to collect.

  Sometimes, people even volunteered real-life skills they thought might be useful. Tina almost jumped for joy when she got a senior civil engineer from Chicago. "CraftyJohn" was quickly put in charge of building fortifications around the completely open field that surrounded Camp Comeback. After getting a list of everything he'd need, Tina sent out a whole new round of collections. She also started assigning human bulldozers--i.e. Knights and Berserkers--to do whatever he told them for a set period of time. Even low-level strength classes were ten times stronger than a normal human. Tina had no problem making them into living construction equipment.

  But while CraftyJohn was a great find, the best part of the entire morning arrived in the form of a tall human Sorcerer wearing a crown of living flames atop his short-cropped black hair.

  "Whoa," Tina said, leaning back on her anvil-seat. "Are you wearing the Prometheus's Fire movie-promo-event crown?"

  It was a super rare item. The last time she'd checked, it had been selling online for over three thousand real-world dollars and not just because it looked totally boss. Even though it wasn't technically a level-eighty piece of gear, its chance to add extra fire damage every time you cast was so overpowered that some high-end raiders still wore it. Now that she was looking, the rest of the guy's gear was equally impressive. She didn't know caster stuff nearly as well as her plate and swords, but she was certain his gorgeous robes came from the Dead Mountain. She was trying to place his impressive golden staff when the tall Sorcerer cleared his throat.

  "Richard," he said crisply. "Sorcerer. Level eighty. Tailoring and Artificer professions. And I'd like to join your guild, if I may."

  Tina had to put her hands on the table to steady herself after that. "Wait," she said slowly, eyes darting from one piece of amazing legendary gear to the next. "You aren't just some random Richard, are you?"

  "I am formerly the guild master of Richard's Inferno," Richard replied in a steady, almost monotone voice devoid of sarcasm or humor. "We were the number-one-ranked guild in the world until our implosion. I was also the leader the of late Richard's Ruin, though that name ultimately proved to be too ironic even for my tastes. Currently, I'm a member of the Red Sands guild, but I'd like to change that."

  He said all of this like it was nothing, but as he spoke, the people waiting in line behind him started freaking out.

  "Holy shit, that's Richard!"

  "Guys! Guys! Richard's still alive!"

  "I'm using his spec right now!"

  Tina wasn't quite at the random shouting point, but inside she was jumping up and down. Poaching someone as geared and elite as the Richard--FFO's number-one Sorcerer--from CincoDeMurder would be the coup of the century. There was no way she was saying no, but since this was a coalition, she still had to ask.

  "You're absolutely welcome in the Roughnecks," she told him, standing up to offer him her hand. "But before you join, I have to know--why do you want to switch guilds? Is there drama with Red Sands that I need to go resolve?"

  Richard shook his head, moving it beneath the floating crown of flames, which didn't even wobble. "No drama. I'm just tired of being called a Care Bear all the time. I'd like to be with a guild who appreciates that PVP isn't the only worthwhile way to play FFO."

  "Well, hells yeah, you're hired!" Tina said, grabbing his hand and shaking it. "Welcome to the Roughnecks! Go talk to Anders or Zen. They're in medical and easy to find. They'll tell you all the rules of the guild and get you set up."

  He nodded. "And what is my quest?"

  It took Tina several seconds to remember what he'd originally been in line for. "Oh, right." She grinned. "A hard worker! I like that. Since you're so geared, you're on patrol killing duty. After you get set up in our guild, talk to Killbox to join a Roughneck kill squad."

  "Accepted," Richard said in his weirdly flat manner. "Thank you, Roxxy."

  "No problem! Happy to have you!" She beamed as the tall Sorcerer walked away, rubbing her hands together with glee.

  "He famous or something?" Frank whispered as she sat back down on her anvil.

  "He's a legend," Tina replied. "Dude's played FFO since alpha. How else do you think he scored 'Richard' as his character name? He's been a world-ranked raider since the very first raid boss came out. I don't even play casters anymore, and even I've heard about his Sorcerer guides."

  "Well, glad to have him aboard, then," Frank said, getting back to his job.

  "Glad" didn't begin to cover it. If she hadn't still been so worried about SB and James, Tina would have floated away. But even the joy of nabbing the world's greatest Sorcerer couldn't banish the fear gnawing at her insides as the sun crept higher and higher into the sky. Every time she had to give a quest to a high-level player, she was tempted to send them on a rescue mission, but it was just too dangerous. She didn't even know what part of the city SB was in anymore. Any team she sent out after him would have to include a who's who of her best people, and she just couldn't justify it. She had too many people here to protect.

  Tina didn't have to like it, though. She consoled herself by assigning several groups to nearby search-and-rescue quests. Play
ers had been arriving in a steady stream since last night, but there were probably still plenty out there who were hiding in basements and didn't know yet that there was safety to be had. The more players she could gather, the stronger they'd be and the better everyone's chances got. But while the rescue missions helped a bit, nothing could make her smile by the time the line in front of her finally petered out.

  "Hoo-ee," Frank said, stretching his arms over his head. "That was some mighty delegation! These here quests are the weirdest way to assign work I've ever seen, though. I don't know how you came up with so many off the top of your head like that."

  Tina shrugged. "It's not that hard. Quests have a pattern to them, and we've all done thousands. I'm just happy it worked. You'll notice that no one had serious objections even when they got nothing but faction points. That never would have flown if I'd invented my own system, but we're all so used to it being this way in-game, nobody thought to protest."

  "So what's next?" Frank asked.

  Tina thought a moment. "You used to be a chemical plant manager, right?"

  "Yup," he said. "Before I retired, I was in charge of over fifteen hundred--"

  "Great!" She clapped Frank on the armored shoulder. "You hang here and manage all the random problems people are sure to come back with. If you don't know the answer, send them to me."

  "Can do," Frank said. "Where will you be?"

  Tina took a longing look at the city, where SB was still missing, then she sighed and waved a hand down at her armor. "Maintenance."

  "Complete Rebuild" might have been more accurate. Her once-amazing suit of sun-metal plate was dented and warped almost beyond recognition. Every piece had gashes or outright holes, and the padding inside was stiff with dried blood, both hers and her enemies'. There was blood on the exterior, as well, plus dust from the Deadlands and ash from the burning city. With a little makeup on her face, she could have made a very authentic zombie.

  "I'm gonna visit Assets for a portable mana-anvil and some materials to repair my baby," she said, rising from her seat. "I'll be on the north side of the camp by the river if you need me."