AdVenture Capitalism

Day 1

Finally got somewhere with a signal to post
>inb4 phoneposter
Sorry my pack mule doesn't have space for muh PC
>be me
>2 and a halfish years after /k/onvergence
>spent most of the first 9 months being a freedom fighter
>stops being fun when there stops being an effective government to fight
>ended up being traveling gun merchant since then
>mostly in the high plains and near the Rockies
>Colorado got way less shitty after all the weedbros and college progressives left
>along with a lot of the other humans when all the Gobs and Orcs moved into the front range
>theregoestheneighborhood.jpg
>the threat of being burninated by one of the dragons living further in didn't help either.

>on my way back southish from Cheyenne
>loaded down with a selection of PMAGs factory direct
>hitting up a bunch of the tiny towns and farms
>Swinging by a farm that I always go to
>Owner, Dave, Nam vet and bretty cool dude
>always needs ammo for his SP1
>usually trade him for feed for my mule, Molly, and some of his wife's canned veggies
>early evening when I get to the driveway and shit seems off
>no movement at the house, no dogs barking
>front door wide open, looks broken in
>Fuck
>start sweeping the house, AUG at the ready
>empty
>blood stains in the living room, maybe a couple days old
>stinks like goblins
>5.56 casings near the stairs
>at least Dave had a fighting chance
>trail of blood leading out the back door
>truck is gone so Dave and wife probably got away
>probably won't mind if I whole up here for the night
>Gobs took their dead and the house was picked over, so they won't be back
>not staying in the house, front door unsecured
>lead Molly over to the old barn
>hear something moving inside
>go in through side door quiet like
>far side mostly straw bales, some bags of grain
>work bench and a couple stalls this side
>first stall empty
>round corner to second stall, AUG up
>Hello shotgun barrel, nice to meet you.
>behind my new 12 Gauge friend is a girl laying against the divider
>well, half of one, horse from the waist down
>Easy, Shebiscuit
>Mexican standoff continues for a minute or two
>we both lower our guns.

First time running into a centaur out here. Always heard they keep to themselves, and always travel in groups. She hasn't actually put the shotgun down, just not pointing it at me. Is it gonna get awkward with me using a mule as a pack animal. Don't want to end up with the Kurt Cobain special because “slavery”

>step one, communication.
>”hi I’m anon, what's a horse girl like you doing in a place like this.”
>so fucking smooth
>but apparently she no habla English
>still stoic, almost no expression on her face
>just watching me
>try a greeting in the bad elvish I know
>throw in that I'm just here for a place to shelter for the night
>she tilts her head, seeming to understand
>no emotion still, but she at least leans the shotgun against the wall
>progress
>clear a spot in the center of the floor for a small fire
>climb up in the loft to open one of the windows
>*creak*
>oh fug
>*snap*
>manage to land ass first, but miss the straw by about a yard
>a chuckle from the corner
>so Hojack Horsewoman is capable of emotion
>”Man hurt?”
>apparently she does speak English too, albeit poorly
>”Just my pride and my ass, you speak English?”
>she looks a bit confused, but seems to get the gist of it
>”Little, you speak elvish? ” -in elvish

Gonna paraphrase anything else I can get from her. I doubt direct translation will be possible.

Through a combination my bad elvish, her bad English, some pictures drawn in the dirt, and some charades, I've managed to piece together her story, and a name
>Veyraneshrah
>or something like that
>they don't have written language so I'm guessing on spelling
>agrees to being called Veyra, but finds shortening names strange
>she doesn't know what happened to Dave
>only got here an hour or so before me
>figured I lived here when she heard me
>tried to dig deeper, asking why she's out here alone, but she just went back to the stoic silence.
>touchy subject I guess
>limp back up to the loft
>more careful this time, staying on the beams
>get window propped open
>hang tarp between fire spot and window
>should keep some of the light from getting out
>bring Molly the mule in before closing up the barn doors
>surprisingly not awkward
>put her in the other stall
>drag a few bales of straw over and spread them out
>find a bag of oats as well
>if Dave's alive, I'll pay him back.
>with the fire lit, I can actually get a better look at Veyra
>wearing a mix of hides and what looks like linen
>chestnut coat on the horse part
> slightly darker hair on her head, long and loosely braided.
>fair skin, sharp facial features
>she winces as she moves closer to the fire
>notice patches of dried blood near where the horse shoulder and human waist meet

>I offer her my first aid kit and to take a look at it
>she starts taking her hide top off
>’woah lady, I haven't even bought you dinner yet’
>notice she has another spot of blood on her tunic
>’Oh’
>grab some alcohol and gauze from my bag
>cuts are pretty deep
>can't help but notice she's also kinda ripped
>6 pack, pretty well defined arms
>”So, you work out?”
>did I actually just fucking say that
>thank the /k/ube she didn't understand
>she winces as I clean her wounds with the alcohol
>probably should have warned her
>ask her how she got the cuts in elvish
>ran into a barbed wire fence, running from feral dogs
>almost ask why she didn't shoot them
>realize the shotgun is probably empty
>tape some clean gauze over the cuts
>probably needs stitches
>not a doctor
>go over to shotgun
>beautiful Ithaca 37 Featherlite
>also completely empty
>at least she didn't try to rob me
>hold the trigger, rack the pump
>*click*
>Dat Slam Fire
>Beautiful
>I think I'm actually salivating
>could just be hunger
>the half chub is definitely for the gun though.
>get a couple cans of Pork & Beans on the fire cooking

>she basically inhaled the can
>should have figured she would want more
>all that body mass needs a lot of food
>DatMass
>All i have left to spare is some hard tack
>I have never seen someone genuinely enjoy hard tack
>starving Ethiopian kids would call you a dick
>she seems to like it
>she ate 6 of the hockey puck sized buscuits
>so uncivilized
>getting late, bring up sleeping in shifts
>offer to take the first watch
>because I’m a gentleman
>also offer a blanket
>barely big enough to cover her
>it's the thought that counts

Day 2

>my watch was nice and quiet
>just the wind and the sound of 1.5 equines sleeping
>wake Veyra up after 5 hours
>take my trip to dream land
>nice to actually have someone else on watch for a night
>best nights sleep on a pile of straw I’ve had in weeks

>wake up with the sudden feeling I’ve been fucked, and not in the good way
>horse girl and Molly are missing
>did she just Harriett Tubman my my pack mule?
>notice the Ithaca still leaned against the wall
>jump back into my boots, grab my AUG, ready to reclaim my property
>Open door, get hit in the face with a blast of cold air
>now I’m wide awake
>doesn’t take long to solve the mystery
>Veyra is standing near the entrance to Dave’s Pasture
>can see Molly further in, grazing
>no underground mule railroad today
>go back to the barn, grab a hammer, some scrap wood, and nails
>head over to the house
>”Fix” Dave’s front door
>Leave him note
“Dave,
Hope you made it somewhere safe.  Gonna borrow some supplies. I’ll some M193 next time I’m through.  I fixed your door.
-Anon”
>Grab a backpack, a blanket, start raiding Dave’s pantry
>mostly beans
>like a shit load of damn beans, canned and dry
>Dave might have a problem
>grab a couple cans, some Spam, and some canned pasta
>head back to the barn
>rooting through the bags from the pack saddle
>really just a couple of ALICE packs rigged together
>grab some extra first aid supplies and 30 rounds of 12 gauge buck
>20 of 00, 10 of #4
>Start loading up all my gear
>MOLLE belt with a Safariland for my Glock 40, 2 rifle and pistol mags, IFAK, couple Nalgene bottles and a buttpack
>Chest rig with a few more mags
>Woodland MOLLE II pack
>Veyra leads Molly back in
>I offer her the backpack
>”I don’t know where you’re headed, but there’s some supplies and ammo for you, should last a couple days”

>”Ay-non…”
>She looks extremely conflicted
>’It’s anon.’
>”Have you seen others? Home?”
>’Other Centaurs? Your home?’
>”Family-Tribe-Home, all same to us.”
>’Never seen another Centaur out here, heard talk of them from others’
>Sigh
>’I’m heading to Boulder, probably the biggest trading town around, if anyone has seen your people, that’s your best bet for info.’
>She nods, grabs bag and Ithaca
>Remind her to actually load it this time

>Morning travel is quiet, heading southish
>back to a mainish road
>repaved not long before the /k/alamity
>beat back the silence teaching Veyra more english
>mostly how to swear
>she’s actually picking it up pretty quickly
>look at me, Civilizing tribals like 18th century Englishman
>we come to a bridge
>don’t like it, choke point
>we get halfway across, two start walking towards us from opposite end, guns up
>another coming from behind
>tell Veyra to follow my lead while they’re still out of earshot
>put hands up
>Bubba with a TAPCOed SKS and a dark elf with a Taurus Judge in front
>Mexican with 1911 behind
>Bubba speaks
>”Drop the guns and all your shit and we’ll let you live.”
>Play along, unhook sling from AUG, lay it down
>”Faster, we ain’t got all day.”
>Fuck you bubba, I respect my guns
>Unholster Problem Solver and lay it down
>drop my pack
>Bubba tells the other two to check us, he covers
>”Guys, I just want to tell you how proud I am too see such tolerance in 20merge + 2, Multi-ethnic, multi-species, and you’ve got a gay.”
>”The fuck you on, none of us is gay.” -Bubba
>Dark Elf is patting me down
>”Then why’s his breath smell like cock?”
>As expected, darkie goes for a gut punch
>step into him, gets more into the side than gut
>pull FN Barracuda from the holster tucked behind my buttpack
>catch Bubba in chest with 2
>push off from the darkie
>he goes for his Judge
>not fast enough, .357 gets him in the throat and he drops
>turn to help Veyra with the beaner
>he’s dangling about 18 inches off the ground, legs kicking
>Veyra’s got one arm around his neck, other trapping his gun and right at his waist
>he’s turning all kinds of pretty colors
>kicking stops, and she drops him
>She spits on him
>”Cock Fucking Bitch”
>close enough

>choking and gurgling sound reminds me Bubba isn't dead.
>too busy trying not to drown in his own blood to continue being a threat.
>or maybe I nicked the the spine
>start scavenging while Veyra covers
>total haul from the rainbow highwayman coalition
>one TAPCO SKS, 84 rounds of wolf steel case
>one Judge, 3 rounds of .410 birdshot, 7 of winchester PDX1, 5 .45 Long.
>chrome 1911, 3 mags of .45
>2 fixed blade knives, 1 folder, all gas station quality.
>2 pairs of decent boots that don't fit me, 1 pair of shitty sneakers that might
>take the Mexican’s coat, the only one doesn't have holes or isn't covered in blood
>gotta be more
>find their stash under the far side of the bridge
>couple duffle bags
>mostly clothes, some packaged food
>a bag filled with about 150 rounds of assorted ammo that doesn't fit any of their guns
>only decent stuff is a few pans
>the trio’s shit taste extends to more than guns
>13 cans of Pibb Xtra
>if they weren't dead, I'd go shoot them again for keeping garbage soda
>use gas station knife to remove untermensch soda
>take the duffle bags back to the road
>Veyra is staring back north
>think she's staring at the corpses we made
>then I hear it too
>hooves, multiple sets
>didn't see her face, didn't need to
>could tell she was disappointed when it got close enough to see it was a team of four oxen
>pulling something looking like a cross between a Conestoga Wagon and a Vietnam gun truck.
>Oxen don't get slowed down by the trio of bodies on the bridge
>Orc driving doesn't care either
>crude drawing of the /k/ube painted on the side
>well they probably won't kill us then.

>the /K/onestoga comes to a stop in front of us
>clearly made from a heavy duty pickup frame and suspension, stripped down, with an armored box mounted where the passenger compartment and bed used to be
>the former engine bay mounts a seat, surrounded by more armor plate slopping down from the box behind
>seat is occupied by an Orc in a coyote brown IBA and fishermans hat, complete with lures.
>AMD-63 hung on one side of him, Milkor MGL on the other, 4 fishing rods in the corner
>the Orc gives a gruff “Ave Nex Alea”
>before I can even begin to respond, a voice from the /k/onestoga begins shouting
>”Brother Sal, what new truthseekers has Nex Alea placed upon our path? Have they heard the truth of the /k/ube’s lessons? To ignore it’s truth is too ignore the nature of life, for Strife is Life. It is only through preparation for this unending struggle we may hope to beat back the false promise that is peace, for true peace is only found in Death.”
>orc shakes his head
>”Brother Gary, perhaps you should let our fellow travelers introduce themselves before beginning your ministry?”
>Guy in his mid 20s, human, shaved head, steps out from under the canvas covering the middle of the armored wagon and continues speaking
>”Nonsense, Brother Sal, for like the fire from its creations, the truth of the /k/ube pays no heed to the preparedness of those upon the receiving end. It simply demands to be spread. How can you not shout the truth at all you see a mere month after we have departed from the Holy Monolith? Will you expect me to do all the work once we return to the San/k/tum?
>Orc sighs
>”You’re better off just tuning Gary out. He has yet to realize the /k/ube cares not for flowery and flowing sermons, but simple deeds.  I am Brother Sal’kek, but most call me Sal.”
>Why not Brother Kek?

>”I assume the 3 on the bridge were your doing, if so you have no need of being taught the /k/ube’s lessons.”
>”Saluto Nex Alea, they picked a fight when they shouldn’t have, and now their dead.  I’m Anon, this is Veyra.”
>Gary has already started into another sermon, and judging by word choices, he has a non-consensual relationship with a thesaurus
>Follow Sal’s advice and tune it out
>Veyra doesn’t even know most of the words he is using
>I don’t even know some of them
>Sal asks
>”Where are you two truth seekers headed on this fine day?”
>Gary interupts
>”For any day in which blood has been spilled in the name of the /K/ube is a magnificent day indeed!”
>”Boulder”
>”Convenient, our path to our Denver San/k/tum will take us near your destination.  The /K/ube must intend for you to accompany us, to fate our meeting like this.”
>”We appreciate the offer, but I don’t think there’s room for all of us in the wagon.”
>Veyra gives me a shove
>probably intended as a gentle nudge, but I’m learning how freakishly stronk she is
>”You ride, take packs of mule.  Two legs too slow.  We keep up with steel cart.”
>Don’t need to tell me twice, ass is still kinda sore from falling last night
>Takes a few minutes to unload everything from Molly’s pack saddle and situate it on the /K/onestoga
>front wall is lined with a stack of ammo cans, labeled for almost every caliber I could consider common
>more cans and wooden munitions crates sit under the simple benches on either side
>M1919 Browning in a ring mount in the back left corner
>Empty ring mount front right
>Its gun sits partially disassembled on the bench under, tan scaled Kobold deeply focused on cleaning it
>Before I can go introduce myself, Gary speaks up
>”Please do not interrupt Apprentice Neiro, this is an important part of his training to serve the /K/ube.”

>I settle in, laying out on one of the benches for a nap
>uneventful day, and the /K/onestoga is a decently smooth ride.
>wake up after a couple hours, late in the afternoon
>Kobold sitting on the bench across from me
>Owen Gun at his side
>”Where did you manage to dig up that old thing?”
>”I made it. We are no closer to the /k/ube than when we make weapons with our own hands. It is the first step on the path to becoming a /K/leric.”
>Gary interrupts again
>”Many choose simpler weapons, Slamfire Shotguns, humble bludgeons, blades and spears. Those with a truly great connection to the /k/ube, like Neiro, choose more complicated implements.”
>Gary really likes the sound of his own voice.
>Does the /K/ube need martyrs, because I volunteer Gary.
>Neiro is staring staring at my AUG.
>”May I see your rifle? Familiarity with all the /k/ube’s gifts is an important part of my path.”
>pull the mag, clear the chamber, lock the bolt, and hand it over.
>’Go nuts kid’
>he immediately begins field stripping it, then detail stripping it
>I think he removed every trace of fouling from it.
>made me look like an unclean slob, and I cleaned it 4 days ago
>I should have him clean my whole stock
>reminds me I should take inventory
>with the 3 guns from the rainbow coalition, I've got 3 rifles and 3 pistols for trading
>plenty of spare parts
>about 2k in assorted ammo.
>ton of PMAGs
>if I ever get somewhere to trade I can probably come out pretty good on this trip.
>as if on cue, Sal shouts about a town up ahead
>says it looks like a good place to stop for the night.
>looks like a typical medieval village, complete with a couple windmills
>maybe 20 or 30 buildings
>looks pretty /k/ozy

Places like this are common, random areas that swapped during the merge. Played hell with most of the infrastructure. Communications backbone, high voltage transmission lines, railroads and even highways suddenly had huge gaps. We got lucky I guess. Heard a rumor that part of the Three Gorges Dam went, lot of people died. Not sure if it's true. Accurate news got even harder to get after the merge.

>”town watch” meets us on the path down to the village
>half dozen armed with Fudd tier weapons
>can see about 7 or 8 more watching from the village
>Gary and Sal do all the talking
>village is happy to let us stay, minister, and trade
>Gary goes to start the preaching
>Sal unhooks the oxen and leads them to a small pasture
>Veyra leads Molly to the same, either ignoring or unaware of the few townspeople staring
>I borrow a long crate from the /k/onestoga
>set it up on a couple barrels as a table
>Open for business
>maybe Gary's sermon will inspire them to ‘get strapped’
>hopefully they'll have something decent to offer
>I ain't running a charity here
>I'm here to teach them about capitalism

>they didn't have much
>best deal I was able to make was packaging a Draco, Bubba’s SKS, a spam can and some mags for a steer
>know of a couple of non-orc butchers who appreciate local organic livestock.
>trade some shotgun ammo and 9mm for a couple pounds of raw wheat and a couple pounds of flower.
>the one dude in the village with an AR traded me a cask of mead for a dozen PMAGs
>swap the bags of clothes and pans for a half dozen loaves of fresh baked bread and stew for dinner.
>hope it's enough for the centaur
>not sure what she's like hangry
>wonder what she'd be like drunk
>might be time for some scientific experiments

>set up camp with the two mon/k/s and the /k/leric in training at the edge of the village
>place doesn't have an inn
>Sal apparently found time to go fishing
>sharing mead with the class
>mainly as an excuse to attempt to get the centaur drunk
>not going well
>she likes it, but she's nine pints in and not showing any signs of even getting tipsy
>my Irish ancestors are very impressed

>Everyone gets quiet all the sudden
>Veyra and Neiro start scanning the darkness
>Sal seems to notice whatever it is next
>goes into leader mode
>”Gary, on the Browning. Neiro, fighting hole, right here. Centaur, go alert the village. Anon, there's a 40mm can under the bench at the back of the wagon, bring it to me.”
>Neiro douses the fire with a pile of dirt
>”What the fuck is going on?”
>”Goblins, and quite a few by the stench.”
>we all start following the old orc’s orders
>by the time I get back with the can, Neiro already has hole dug for the 3 of us.
>deep enough to crouch in
>looking down a shallow slope
>can was full of, unsurprisingly, 40mm grenades
>Sal is unloading sponge rounds from his MGL
>loading ‘More-Lethal’ options
>hear Veyra returning, Gary telling her to post up opposite side of the wagon from him, plug anything that tries to get by
>good, no cover for her up here
>”Anon, cover right. Give any empty mags to Neiro.”
>Sal aims high, firing twice
>parachute flares light up the moonless night.
>goblins scurrying like roaches when the lights come on, looks like a few dozen, maybe more
>Gary opens up with some belt fed pest control
>smart gobos hit the dirt
>dumb ones stand there firing
>really dumb ones charge
>Gary cuts down the really dumb ones
>Sal lobs HEDP at the any clustered together
>I start picking off the dumb ones
>dumb ones start getting smart, smart ones getting smarter
>they spread out
>Gary is putting short bursts wherever the wheat moves or muzzles flash
>flares are getting low
>”Anon, Cover. Reloading”
>I swing around
>line the chevron of my ACOG on a goblin barking orders
>spread his brain over the field as the flares go down
>start firing where I had seen them
>bolt locks back
>drop the mag, toss it to the /k/leric
>Sal gets his first flare up
>see a gobo charging from the right as it lights up
>turn while reloading
>too slow
>Sal fires
>hits the green fuck in the chest
>flare ignites and he becomes his own funeral pyre
>”Fuck, Browning is jammed.”
>”Clear it!”
>hear Gary shouts pain and couple rounds ping off wagon
>”Man Down!”
>Neiro climbs out of the hole to go help
>see some small flames in the fields
>something sparking flies by my head
>Dynamite, not much fuse left
>Oh Fug
>Neiro dives back into the hole
>grab Orc’s drag handle and pull him down
>BOOM
>dirt rains down on us
>couple goblins poke their heads over the rim
>Orc has my riafu pinned, can't get the release for my Glock
>Is this how it ends, in a hole in the ground, looking like an interspecies fuckpile?
>Goblins get turned into red mist from .30-06
>Veyra trots forward, hip firing an M1919
>the light of the burning goblin and parachute flare illuminates a face of pure joy, as she fires bursts into retreating goblins

Happiness is Belt Fed, friends.

>Take stock of casualties
>Gary has been shot in the forearm
>knocked himself out somehow
>Veyra has some minor burns on her left hand from holding the barrel jacket of the M1919
>everyone else is unhurt
>some of the villagers finally arrive
>apparently a smaller group had attacked the other side of town right when we opened up here.
>fought them off, but took a few serious casualties
>Sal and Neiro offer to help with the wounded
>Veyra volunteers us to join a couple hunters tracking the fleeing goblins
>Make sure they aren't regrouping nearby
>trail goes cold after a mile and some change
>small road bridge over a creek
>either went on the hard asphalt or upstream in the creek
>head back to village
>between the adrenaline and the noise of a couple goblins dying loudly in the field sleep doesn't come easy.
>a short walk to calm down and a couple 10mm rounds solve both problems.

Day 3

THESE UNGRATEFUL FUCKS
>Villagers are claiming all the weapons and ammo from the goblins
>most were shit, cut down fudd guns and milsurps, but still
>we did most of the killing, we should get first pick of the salvage
>I even offered medical supplies at cost, expecting i could make up the difference in guns and ammo
>being an honest merchant is difficult
>no wonder the jews resort to jewish trickery
>at least managed to get a sack full of goblin ears
>bounty might cover ammo costs and let me restock on meds
>Fuck this village

>riding in the /K/onestoga
>Gary is chasing dragons with some very good pharmaceuticals
>We’re all enjoying the silence for most of the morning
>start chatting with Sal
>curious how a clearly experienced orc leader becomes a Mon/k/
>His clan was pulled through in the merge
>he was second to the chief, his older brother
>They decided to do what orcs do and raid a human settlement
>unfortunately for them, the first “settlement” they came to was Mountain Home AFB
>say what you will about Air Force SF, against spears and swords, they still had a significant advantage
>few survivors, Sal abdicates, decides to learn about the weapons of our world, which leads him to the /k/ube

>”So, in all your time in both worlds, you ever seen a group of goblins use a feint to expose a weaker flank like they did last night?”
>”Never on their own, and especially not in a simple village raid.  It was very strange indeed.  You said you lost the trail a mile north of town?”
>“Yeah”
>never said “I” lost anything
>Veyra and the ungrateful hunters did the tracking
>I was just along for the ride, and to bring more gun
>”Very strange, you’d expect them to retreat west, back to the mountains.”
>“Unless they are based somewhere out here”
>”They’d need somewhere to shelter during the day, and big enough to support the kind of numbers we saw last night.”
>That would be hard to miss
>Anyone seen an abandoned sports arena in the middle of nowhere, eastern Colorado?

>Hit outskirts of Denver Metro by midday
>Population of nearly 3 million pre merge, barely 900,000 now
>humans at least
>mostly to the south
>where the federal government can still pretend to be relevant
>based at Cheyenne Mountain and Ft Carson
>I don’t go there, way too civilized
>Boulder tho
>turns out Orcs take “Hate Has No Home Here” signs as an invitation
>You wanted diversity, you got it now
>plus great trading town
>Anywhere you can buy slaves, you can buy pretty much anything
>coincidently, most people decided to move away from it
>which is why we’re riding through pretty much ghost towns
>couple hours out, Molly the Mule throws a shoe
>now I have to find a fucking farrier
>and she probably shouldn’t carry the pack barefoot
>fuck
>”I believe one of our /K/ongregation is a blacksmith.  If you like, we could have him reshoe your mule.  Consider it payment for your help last night.”
>Thanks Sal, you’re a bro of an Orc.
>Half my problem is solved
>See Veyra already undoing the pack saddle from Molly
>”Just temporary, not beast of burden.  Help you, you help me, deal?”
>Takes a little while to adjust everything to fit her
>bit thinner than the mule
>doesn’t seem to mind the weight of the pack
>bid goodbye to Sal, Neiro, and a semi conscious Gary
>give me directions to the San/k/tum

>first things first, sell this steer for some motherfucking money
>head to former Whole Foods
>now just le Foods
>not sure where the Who went
>head around back to the delivery entrance
>nearly get run over by an ice cream truck pulling out of the dock
>skeleton hanging his head out the window shouts ”DRINK MILK, NIGGERS!” as tires squeal around the corner
>”Anon, what is ‘Niggers’?
>did i really not go over racial shit when teaching her swearing?
>also, does she think milk shilling skellies are a normal thing?
>”Imagine if Orcs blamed all the problems they caused on the other races, and demanded they all give them stuff.”
>”They sound dumb.”
>now she’s getting it
>lead steer into storeroom of grocery store
>two Orcs standing around looking at a couple pallets of milk jugs
>every bottle has “FREE” in red paint
>probably paint
>maybe
>ask the one that looks smarter if Dwalin is in
>takes a few minutes to come back with the Dwarf who runs the place
>”Anon, my old friend, what have you brought me today?”
>”Locally raised, organic, grass fed beef!”
>he looks over the steer and we negotiate on a price
>probably could have done better getting offers from other places
>but leading a steer around a town full of carnivorous fantasy creatures seemed like an unnecessary risk
>barter most of the grains from village as well for some canned food, MREs, and Jerky
>Veyra specifically requests more hardtack
>Why?
>Hit a few more stops around town
>Turn in the sack of goblin ears for some more coin
>buy Veyra a proper backpack
>Medium ALICE Ruck with frame
>She starts asking about buying a belt fed
>/K/ube help any who piss off the horse gunner if she finds one

>Getting late though
>Trying find a hotel
>after two weeks on the road a shower sounds like paradise
>Most in town have a humanoids only policy
>Finally find one with a sign
>UNDER NEW MANAGEMENT
>JUST REMODELED
>ALL RACES WELCOME*
>asterisks have never been bad, right?
>looks like the kind of place you’d have gone to bang your mistress on your lunch break
>or score some meth
>or meet a hooker
>or all of the above
>pass what looks like a Hyena-man in a suit in the parking lot
>leaning against a black Escalade while smoking
>Gnome at the front desk is surprised when we come in
>probably surprised by Veyra
>ask about a room for the night
>he is hurriedly looking through a chart
>Says his manager doesn’t have a set deposit for Centaurs
>says he can charge me five nights up front for an XL room and work things out with the boss tomorrow
>there’s the *
>smallHappyMerchant.jpg
>fucking Gnomes
>High Density Jews
>More jew per cubic foot than Dachau
>pay him almost half of the money I made today
>get key to room
>ground floor
>probably good, not sure how Veyra would handle stairs
>inside is pretty spacious
>huge bed set almost completely into the floor
>”couch” with what looks like a concrete base nearer to the door
>call dibs on the couch and help Veyra unload the pack saddle
>shower calls though

>weird using a shower designed for huge creatures
>damn near prison cell sized
>takes up half the bathroom
>multiple shower heads
>water pressure is amazing though
>yet towels are still normal hotel size
>so too small for even a regular sized anon
>Veyra is intrigued by the shower
>I may have been making some almost lewd noises while showering
>don’t judge me
>explain how to turn the water on and hand her the tiny hotel soap
>relax on the couch in just a t-shirt and shorts
>flip on the TV to drown out the sounds of fucking in the next room
>Mistress or Meth fueled hooker fucking?
>Die Hard is on
>Cuddle AUG-Waifu
>let her know that I know she didn’t choose to fight for the terrorists
>Sounds of fucking have been replaced by arguing
>Do you fucking mind, I’m trying to have a romantic moment with my gun here
>then the shooting starts
>3 rounds go into the back of the couch
>1 goes through my calf first
>then the door opens, well more comes into the room
>Hyena-Man from the parking lot has a Desert Eagle in one hand, looking like a subcompact, door in the other
>What the hell is going on
>Hear a shout from the other room
>”WRONG ROOM, BENNY”
>he leaves
>I limp to the door
>the door to the other room is open, but still on its hinges
>naked elf on the bed has a knife in his hand
>bleeding from scratches on his face
>harpy is at the end of the bed, black wings spread, skirt hiked up, holding a Beretta 93
>Hyena-Man is pointing the Deagle at the Elf
>”Who the fuck shot me?”

>My question is ignored
>”You’re going to regret this, I have powerful friends.”
>Fucking High Elves
>Harpy puts on the fakest Italian accent I have ever heard
>Imagine Don Corleone but higher pitched
>”You will regret getting rough with one of my girls.  You should count yourself lucky I have let you off with the honor of carrying the message of what happens to those who disrespect my organization.”
>”YOU CRAZY BITCH!”
>elf lunges at the harpy
>Harpy grabs his knife hand with one of her foot-claw-things, rolls back off the bed, and throws the elf against the wall
>”Benny, take out the trash.”
>Hyena-Man drags unconscious elf towards the door
>Harpy finally notices me
>”Who the fuck are you, and are you aware you’re bleeding?”
>”YOU SHOT ME!”
>She looks at my leg and then the Beretta in her hand.
>”Oh, I assure you it was unintentional. I have a business associate that can fix you up right as rain.”
>she writes a couple addresses down on the hotel notepad
>”The first is for my “doctor”, tell her Raf sent you, the second is mine.  I would hate for this unfortunate occurance to sour your impression of me, come by in the morning and we can discuss things.  Benny! Start the car, we are leaving.”
>”Boss”
>turn to see a dripping wet naked Centaur with her Ithaca in the Hyena-Man’s chest
>wet long hair stuck to her chest is the only thing keeping things PG-13

>explain to Veyra concepts like dignity and covering yourself with a towel
>bandage leg well enough to not create a blood trail everywhere I go
>wound isn’t too bad, through and through, didn’t hit any arteries
>lol9mm.png
>pop a few vicodin for the pain
>door is able to be put back in the frame
>mini(((merchant))) is never gonna give me my money back
>will at least look like its secure from the outside when its locked
>sold most of my trade goods already anyway
>take the money and the guns
>judging by the address she gave me, it's going to be a long walk
>well, limp
>unless…
>”No, not beast of burden.  Not ridden like your livestock.  Have pride.”
>All fair points, but I still can barely walk
>Start limping, making myself as pathetic as possible
>doesn’t take too long
>she scoops me up like she’s carrying an injured child
>so her pride matters, but not mine?
>only takes twenty minutes to get there traveling like a damsel in distress
>was a nice residential neighborhood, before the merge
>now most of them are boarded up
>except the house of the “Doctor”
>I think the harpy left off the “Witch” part before the doctor
>Animal bone talismans on posts leading upto the double doors
>Wreath of flowers and chicken skulls decorates the doors
>I knock
>probably should have asked the harpy if we should have waited until morning
>hear several locks click and the door opens
>pale woman in a typical witch’s hat, sleeveless black robe, and long gloves
>all adorned with bones
>skin that I can see is covered in runes and glyph tattoos
>”Raf sent us, after she shot me”
>hold out my leg
>”That girl needs to learn to watch her fire, or she’ll never get out of debt to me. Come in.”
>house smells like a pet store
>see one room full of animal cages
>another full of potted plants and grow lights
>leads us through to the back yard
>patio is centered around a raised concrete slab
>torches surround it in a circle
>Witch Doctor begins drawing glyphs and runes on the slab
>”You sit here, place your wound at the center of the glyph.”
>She goes back into the house
>Veyra helps me up onto the slab
>Witch Doctor returns with a chicken
>”late night snack?”
>”To heal flesh, flesh must be destroyed. Life must pay for life, blood for blood.”
>She takes a crude looking knife covered in more runes
>Stabs the chicken and places it on another glyph
>the knife seems to hold the blood to it
>she holds it over my wounded leg
>the knife releases the blood
>this is not sanitary
>she pours a vial of something on the chicken and strikes her knife against a flint
>as the chicken burns, I feel a stinging pain in my calf
>like thousands of needles stabbing me
>I prefered the gunshot wound
>chicken is now a pile of ash and bones
>Leg now just throbs, but no sign of the bullet hole
>”It will be sore for a few days, but you will be fine.  Now leave me, I will settle things with Raf later. And take this.”
>hands me chicken skull
>”Why?”
>”Luck?  Conversation starter?  Gratitude for it dying for you?  It’s life is a part of you now, perhaps it can be a reminder of your mortality.”
Fucking Witch-Doctors man.  Blood magic is fucking creepy.  Is my leg now part chicken?

>On the way back from the witch doctor
>start pushing for Veyra to open up a bit more
>my help isn’t free, especially since I might lose my ass on the hotel room
>I’ll take a good story and some mutual trust as a down payment for now
>Basic gist is, her tribe/family/herd (words she uses interchangably) got pulled through in the merge
>ended up on some ranchers property in Eastern Colorado
>She, as second child of the chief, is assigned as “the voice” of the tribe
>supposed to learn languages, negotiate agreements, and deliver messages to other species
>explains the elvish, apparently knows basics of other fantasy languages too
>also why she started learning English from the rancher’s kids
>apparently they had been learning elvish in school
>her tribe helped protect the rancher’s herd
>he shared food and supplies with them
>that’s all she was willing to give me

>slept pretty good at the motel
>for having a concrete base, couch was pretty comfy
>Veyra seemed to enjoy a real bed
>tell her it’s time to go meet the psycho harpy that shot me
>AngryHorsegirlNoises
>ignore her, focus on the miracle of coffee from the shitty hotel coffee maker
>scent seems to intrigue her
>offer her some
>”So bitter!”
>don't tell her you can add sugar or milk
>more for me, plus if caffeine affects her like alcohol, it would take a gallon to have any effect on her
>gather all our shit
>debate whether to deal with the “deposit” the tiny fuck at the desk charged me before heading to Don Birdleone
>gnome at the front desk is identical to the one last night, except a different colored hat
>probably just as jewey
>probably have better luck getting my money from the mobster-LARPing harpy
>LARPy?

>arrive at the address ‘Raf’ gave us
>on the old university campus
>two Orcs at the door armed with G3s
>probably not interested in higher education
>one announces us on a radio
>don't understand the reply
>few minutes later, Hyena man from the motel comes out
>”The boss didn't expect you this early, please follow me.”
>Maybe she should have told us a time to be here
>leads us to an elevator that we barely fit into
>Veyra has to duck
>ride to the fourth floor
>short walk down the hall
>another orc is guarding the door
>sign says “409 - Film Department”
>three empty name placards under it
>small waiting room through the door, with a desk, some chairs and a door in each wall
>Hyena-Man leads us in, locks door behind us
>tells us to leave our weapons on the desk that probably belonged to a secretary.
>oblige him because his inflection said he'd remove our heads if we didn't.
>he knocks on the center door
>”Send them in, Benny.”
>Same the harpy is seated at a desk, sipping from a coffee cup
>short black hair is gelled up in a Faux-Hawk
>wearing a white dress shirt and charcoal grey pinstriped vest
>Model 93R in black leather shoulder holster
>speaks with the same fake Italian accent
>”Good morning, I trust my associate took care of the results of our unfortunate accident last night?”
>I don't see how her blindly firing through a wall is an accident, but I let her continue.
>”My organization does not need the kind of attention your peoples law enforcement brings when a human is injured by one of our kind. May I see her handiwork?”
>She gets up
>see she's now wearing a pinstripe pleated skirt in place of last night's denim one.
>Role up the leg of my ATACS-FG cammies
>spot from the wound is still slightly pink, and free of hair
>Harpy squats and grabs my leg
>try not to think about how she was in a similar position last night
>do not lewd the fantasy creatures
>”I see she has not lost her touch. Please, have a seat.”
>she gestures to a chair an a number of cushions on the floor in front of her desk

>”Now for introductions. I am Raffica, but my friends call me Raf. My enemies call me all manor of names that aren't proper for polite company.  You have already met my second in command, Benny.”
>”About him, what the hell is he?”
>”You’ve never seen a Gnoll? They're not the brightest, but loyal to a fault.”
>A harpies best friend I guess
>”I'm Anon, and this is Veyra.”
>”I must say again how sorry I am for ruining your evening last night. I'm afraid my temper sometimes gets the best of me when dealing with those who don't respect the order of things in this town. Those high elves have been causing more and more trouble since they arrived.”
>I'm pretty sure Keeblers only respect orders where they are on top.
>”Fucking Knife ears.”
>”Indeed. Speaking of fucking, how is it between you two.”
>”I… err… what…?”
>Veyra looks disgusted at the the thought
>”It appears I have misinterpreted the situation. Please, I meant no disrespect. The Inn at which we met has a certain reputation.”
>”It was the only place that would rent a room for a centaur. Speaking of, I have a feeling the manager isn't going to refund the deposit, what with the broken door, blood, and bullet holes.”
>”Ah, I see. I will take care of everything. Let the manager know to bill me for your stay and all the damages. But now I am curious what brought you two here to Boulder. You are certainly an odd pair, especially you, Anon.”
>”What makes you say that?”
>”Centaurs are a rare sight in a town of any size, but especially a centaur alone, and traveling with one of another race. As for you, you are dressed and armed like the adventurous humans who have already traveled through the portals to the other world, yet you are here. Most humans who have stayed try to pretend nothing strange is happening, and go on with their lives as they did before.”
>Seeing the perfect opportunity to avoid talking about my past, I start recounting the last few days
>Veyra pipes up a few times to fill in details and correct mistranslations I make.
>”Well, if information is what you seek, I believe I can help you.  My organization has a fair bit of reach, and something like a herd of Centaurs would certainly be talked about. Let me cast my net and see what we can catch.”
>She picks up the desk phone and dials
>confused look on her face
>attempts to dial again
>”Phone is out.”
>Suspicious
>lights go out
>Ominous
>Benny opens the door
>”Ma’am, lookouts are reporting several vehicles approaching the building at high speed.”
>well fuck



3/16/19

>”It appears we may need to reschedule this meeting. If you will excuse me, it sounds like this is something I will need to deal with.”
>Benny leads us to the outer office
>gather weapons and gear
>Raf comes out of her office a few minutes later, unfolding the stock on a Spectre M4
>Mobster LARP and a Pastaboo?
>Benny has retrieved an RPD from one of the other offices
>”Elevators down, sent Gorak and Nels to check stairs. Graza and rest of orcs will try to hold front door.”
>”Anon, I would recommend you two leave through the back door. Follow us.”
>follow harpy and gnoll
>make sure AUG has a round in the chamber
>hear the sound of gunfire below
>lots of gunfire
>Benny puts a finger to his ear
>I notice the cord of an earpiece
>”Graza says about two dozen, well armed. He not sure they can hold front door.”
>”Have Graza pull back and attempt to lead them north and buy us time, more cover out that door. We will proceed down to the garage and leave in the car.  And tell Gorak to meet us here, him and Nels will accompany us.”
>reach southwest stairwell
>orc with an AK trained down the stairs
>hear the heavy footfalls of another coming behind us
>Benny leads AK orc down the stairs
>Nels I assume
>Raf and Gorak follow after Benny signals it's clear
>go to follow
>hand on my shoulder stops me
>Veyra is looking at the stairs with a mixture of confusion and concern
>Awkward.

>apparently horses can't go down stairs
>Centaurs however can, and it would be hilarious to watch if it wasn't for the armed men storming the building
>basically a slow backwards diagonal shuffle
>Veyra has reached the third floor landing when the building is rocked by a couple explosions
>sudden reduction in volume of gunfire
>assume this means the front door has been lost
>reach second floor
>Raf is there
>Gorak is on the landing below, I assume covering the door
>About to ask who would be attacking her like this
>she presses a finger to her lips in a “shush” gesture
>I wave for Veyra to wait before starting the next flight of stairs
>quietly move past Raf down the next flight
>can see Nels on the right side of the double doors
>assume Benny is on the left
>hear muffled voices from the hall
>”...Secure…proceed…target…upper floor…capture…possible…”
>left door swings outward
>first man through in full multimeme camo
>massive striped hand grabs him by the face
>Benny throws him towards the stairs
>he cartwheels when he hits the railing
>strikes the wall and collapses in a heap on the landing next to Gorak
>second man is cut down in the doorway by Gorak
>Benny fires a burst from his RPD out the door
>Nels fires a couple rounds through the small window in the open door and it swings shut
>”Clear”
>I'll say

>start looting while waiting for Veyra to clear the last floor and a half
>guys have some Gucci fucking gear
>shame half of it is now busted or soaked in blood
>salvaged a plate carrier and the suppressed Mk18 upper off ragdoll on the landing
>impact with the wall or railing cracked his Ops Core helmet and snapped the buffer off his lower
>second body yields an undamaged helmet, a couple mags and not much else
>most of Goraks rounds hit his PC or rifle before one got him in the throat
>notice a suppressed G17 on a drop leg
>snag it just as Veyra and Raf join us at the bottom floor
>”It appears our enemies have deep pockets, and they want me alive. I can't wait to disappoint them.”
>”Sure to notice this team missing, we must leave.”
>but there's still two bodies I can loot
>stow my treasures in the nearly empty packs on Veyra
>she looks on the edge of panic
>is she claustrophobic?
>gently grab her arm to try to reassure her
>”We’ll get out of this and find your people.”
>doesn't seem to help much

>Nels moves out
>covering the corner where the hall turns toward the front of the building
>louder but sporadic gunfire echoes down the hall
>Gorak and Benny move the opposite way
>Benny covers while Gorak fumbles with a set of keys at a door down the hall
>meanwhile, I snag a suppressed SCAR-L, PC, and helmet off the guy Nels shot
>little bloody, but salvageable
>Raf steps into the hall as Gorak finally unlocks the door
>”And humans call my kind ‘filthy vultures’ while you pick the bones of the dead”
>probably because we don't have a word for opportunistic bird-rapists
>Veyra follows behind the harpy
>I offer her the SCAR
>”Bit more power than your shotgun against body armor.”
>follow the harpy through the door marked ‘Maintenance’
>most of the room is occupied by the black Escalade behind a large roll up door
>smaller walk-through door in the wall beside it
>another door in the side wall, chained and padlocked
>”Gorak, check outside, make sure path is clear.”
>he barely peeks out the door before taking a round in the shoulder and falls
>fuck
>the distinct sound of an AK begins from the hallway, loud even through the closed door
>double fuck

>don’t want to die at a college
>like some kind of punk ass freshman who can’t handle his liquor
>doors one and two lead to a good chance of death
>lets try door number three
>notice several pipes coming through the wall above it
>one leads to a radiator on the wall
>Fuck yeah, steam tunnels!
>”Benny, can you unlock this door?”
>Gnoll comes over and rips the padlock off with his bare hands
>not what I meant, but it works
>room is sunken into the ground
>filled with pipes, valves, and electrical boxes
>ramp raps down from the door to the floor below, hugging the wall
>another short ramp drops further into the tunnel where all the pipes and conduit lead
>Veyra and Raf follow me into the utility room
>”Well Anon, this looks to be where we part ways. This isn’t your fight.”
>before she can turn and leave, door slams shut behind her
>can hear the sound of the chain being wrapped back through the handles
>”Benny, what are you doing?”
>Fake accent is suddenly gone
>Gnoll’s deep voice is barely audible through the door
>”This safer way out. I buy time. Lead them away. Human, keep boss safe.”
>last part almost sounds like a threat
>Harpy bangs on the door
>”OPEN THE DOOR NOW BENNY! WE CAN ALL GET AWAY!”
>”no, no time, go now”

>only light in the utility room is from emergency lights
>hear the sound of the Escalade starting and the garage door opening
>tires squeal and the bullets rip
>time to go
>have to drag Raf from the door
>we tunnel rats now
>now I start to wonder why the door was locked
>and wonder why I don’t have earpro
>really hope we’re alone down here
>sling AUG and fish out the suppressed glockinade from the dead guy
>flip on the TLR and take point
>Harpy sullenly follows
>Veyra takes up the rear
>a couple yards into the tunnel, sound of hooves is replaced by heavy breathing
>tunnel is barely wide enough to squeeze past Raf
>Veyra’s eyes are darting between the tunnel walls
>fuck, claustrophobia, right
>”Hey, Veyra, look at me.”
>still panicking
>plan B
>smack her in the face
>works in the movies
>at least gets her attention
>anger has now replaced panic
>”Don’t look at the walls, keep the light pointed at the floor.  We’re just on a narrow road is all, fences on either side, only way to go is forward.  Just gotta keep going.”
>did I miss my calling as a therapist?
>seems to help a bit
>her breathing slows
>we proceed into the darkness
>tunnel is a lot more humid than expected
>smells dank and musty
>maybe one of the steam pipes is leaking
>come to a T intersection
>probably should have looked for a map in the utility room
>make it a couple yards into the left tunnel
>sudden pain
>feels everywhere and nowhere all at once
>fall against the wall
>”Anon, what’s wron.... AHHHHH”
>harpy collapses near me
>can’t move
>all my nerves feel like they’re on fire
>sudden feeling of being dragged
>Veyra grimacing through the pain
>dragging me by my ankle, Raf by her wrist
>pain starts to subside once we reach the intersection
>pat myself down
>no singed flesh, no visible wounds
>”What in the fucking fuck was that?”

>Both are similarly confused
>”So, should we try the other tunnel?”
>No, Pasta-Pigeon, we’ll just sit here and die
>volunteer to try the other tunnel first
>make it a little further than we did down the left with no pain
>signal for the others to follow
>beams from our two weapon lights don’t penetrate very far through the darkness
>advanceddarkness.png
>come to another intersection, 4 way this time
>left tunnel ends in a pile of rubble a short way down
>turn towards the tunnel opposite the way we came
>pain returns
>fall to one knee
>I guess we keep going
>”We’re being herded.”
>Tell Raf to shush
>we all realize it
>Veyra is already on edge, maybe over it
>and I don’t like walking into traps
>traps are gay
>try to cut the tension
>”So, what the hell was with that fake accent, Raf?”
>”It was from one of your ‘movees’ about families of criminals.  I thought it was intimidating.”
>maybe for creatures from her world
>most humans would probably laugh at how bad it was
>”Is Raffica even your real name? Or did you decide to name yourself after your gun?
>she looks at both her SPECTRE and her 93r
>”One of these is called a Raffica?  I just translated my old name from elven to ‘Eyetalian.’ I think it means Gust in your language.”
>[Facepalms internally]
>Further we walk, the more humid it gets
>it also starts to stink
>smells like rotting flesh
>find the sources of the smell
>giant rats in various states of decay
>nearly trip over one in the dark
>swear it wasn’t there before I moved the light further down the tunnel
>hear the sounds of machinery clang echo through the tunnel
>lights spaced along the tunnel flicker on
>then go out all together
>probably tripped the breaker
>the sound of steam hissing through the pipes continues though
>”If the shooting starts, try not to hit the pipes. High pressure steam will kill you just as dead as a bullet.”
>Raf and Veyra nod in understanding

>keep working our way through the tunnel
>herded like cattle
>stench of the dead rats seems to be stuck to us
>notice a slight multicolored glow up ahead when I lower the TLR
>hear the drip of water
>what now
>another intersection, glow is coming from the right tunnel
>tunnel stops being a tunnel after a couple yards
>looks like its been carved out into a chamber
>somewhat circular, maybe 20 ft high, 40 feet across
>water from a broken pipe trickles into a pool in the center
>all along the terraced sides of the chamber are giant, glowing mushrooms
>wait, mushrooms aren’t supposed to have limbs
>or move
>enormous mushroom near the top of the chamber opposite of us stands up
>bolt of pain like before, but shorter
>the word “COME” seems to echo in my head despite not hearing it
>look back at the others
>notice that the smell of the rats wasn’t the only thing following us
>about a dozen in various states of decay fill the intersection behind us

>move down into the chamber
>the path widens midway between the two tunnels near the pool
>King Toadstool steps forward
>More noiseless words and the pain that accompanies them
>”ENEMY.  KILL?  STEAL?”
>look to Raf
>”What the fuck are these and what do they want?”
>”Myconids, but these ones seem different.  All the stories I’ve heard they’re, well, smarter.”
>so the shouting words into our brains is the abnormal part, not the sentient mushrooms
>fuck you fantasy world
>”Hey, Big-Chungus-Fungus, we aren’t here to hurt you or steal anything.  Just passing through.”
>no reaction
>”Can they understand us?”
>”They don’t have ears, they communicate telepathically.”
>”So what, I have to think my words at them?”
>Raf shrugs
>focus on the big one and think my message to it
>[No hurt, no steal, travel]
>”LIE.   ATTACK.  STEAL.  KILL.  AGAIN.”
>before?
>”Raf, what would people steal from mushrooms, and did you have anything to do with this?”
>she attempts to look as nonchalant as possible
>”Me? Never, but I heard rumors that some alchemists used some of their body parts for hallucinogens and stuff like that. Usually willing to pay a good price.”
>give her a look that tells her I’m not buying it
>”Were you going to let us know that there was a colony of mushrooms who might be pissed off at you down here?”
>”I didn’t know they were here, and I was only a middleman for these deals.  I just connected buyers and sellers.”
>worst mob boss ever
>[didn’t hurt, didn’t steal, different people]
>”NO.  YOU TELL OTHERS.  MORE COME. MORE DEATH”
>[won’t, keep secret]
>”NO.  YOU DIE.”

>Pain is more intense than before
>Fall to my knees, unable to stay standing
>Raf collapses to all fours next to me
>see the zombie rats closing in to finish the job
>vision starts to get red and fuzzy
>”DIE. DIE. DIE NOW”
>never thought shrooms would kill me
>I don’t even get to hallucinate
>The Snozberries taste like blood
>or is that just my brain leaking into my sinuses
>Pain suddenly becomes more focused
>actually, just in my ears
>EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
>vision starts coming back
>less red, still fuzzy
>not fuzzy, the room is filling with steam
>get hauled to my feet by Veyra
>she’s trying to tell me something
>all I hear is “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE”
>notice she has her Ithaca out
>explains a lot
>she gives up on talking, starts pointing
>points at Raf on the ground
>facedown in what looks like vomit
>then points toward the tunnel we came from
>I grab the unconscious harpy
>sling her over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry
>follow the centaur as quickly as i can through the poorly lit, steam filled, cavern and back into the tunnels
>she doesn’t slow down at the intersection
>doesn’t slow down for the zombie rats that try to get in her way
>if I could hear, I’m sure they made a wonderful sound as they were crushed by her hooves