GSA Chapter 17: Gear Up

“Ooh, magic gun!” Ron said, hovering around Jeb’s construction. He didn’t seem to begrudge him the half a Myst lens he’d used to make it, instead simply being overexcited for the creation.

“I want to reiterate,” Jeb said, holding it away from the necromancer’s grasping hands, “That this is not a ‘magic gun’. There is no projectile. Exactly like your wand, it makes an explosion at a set range.”

Ron deflated a little. “Yeah, but yours looks cooler.”

Jeb fixed Ron with the withering stare he’d learned from his instructors in the army.

Ron withered.

“The key difference is that anyone can use this,” Jeb said, glancing at Casey.

The goth teen pointed at herself with a questioning look.

“Yeah, you, silly.” Mike said.

“Why should I tell you?” Casey asked, crossing her arms and scowling at Jeb.

Ah there it is. Teens had a tendency to confuse belligerence with toughness.

“She doesn’t have a level yet!” Mike said, the angel on her shoulder breaking the stalemate. “We’d be just tickled if you had an interest in helping my child.”

“Please stop calling me a child.” Casey said, jaw clenched.

“Alright, a couple quick tests, then we’ll see if we can…what was the word? Cheese Casey with this. You guys are probably going to want to stand back in case it explodes.”

Ron had raised his hand with a grin until he was reminded of the very real danger of self-immolation.

Jeb rested the pistol-shaped wand on a rock, set its range to max, then joined the rest of them hiding behind a nearby rock.

He reached a thread of Myst out and used it to pull the trigger.

BOOM!

In the distance, a huge explosion roughly three times the size of Ron’s original drop of Myst shone bright for a fraction of a second before pummeling their eardrums with its force.

The thousands of flying monsters circling the mountain grew agitated, but they didn’t approach.

I wonder what’s stopping them? Jeb thought, looking up at them.

Jeb jumped over the boulder and checked the state of the wand. No hot spots, no sign of any of the welds coming loose…

In light of the size of that explosion, I’m going to put another safety feature on this thing.

He quickly welded a metal stopper into place right at the eighty-foot range. Any closer than that, and the wand might cause some serious damage to the person firing it.

He checked the three hundred foot range, then eyed the sky,

That one looks flammable.

Jeb reached a single thick strand of Myst out into the sky and snagged a bird-like creature with three heads. It squawked and flapped furiously trying to escape his grasp, but he reeled it in with all the merciless force of an electric winch.

One it was three hundred feet away – give or take – he closed one eye, aimed the wand at the distant target and squeezed the trigger.

BOOM!

The explosion was off by a dozen feet or so to the right, which wasn’t bad, all things considered. It was still inside the explosion.

As the bird tumbled to the ground in a streak of flame, Jeb patted all sides of the wand, checking for hot spots before carefully unscrewing the handle and capacitor casing, making sure nothing had shifted or been in any way damaged.

It paid to triple check your weapon, especially in the case of a homemade one like this.

Once Jeb was satisfied the wand wasn’t going to blow up in anyone’s hand, he closed up the handle and motioned for Casey to approach.

The girl hesitantly approached and received the wand from him like it was a live snake. Mike looked on curiously from her shoulder.

He briefly ran her through gun safety tips  - in this case wand safety -  and she followed along as best she could, her eyes wide with fear.

“Okay, relax your grip a bit, it’s making you shake. You don’t have to be tense, this thing doesn’t have any recoil.” Jeb said, correcting her stance. “Line it up with your dominant eye, don’t put your finger on the trigger until you’re ready to fire.”

“I know that.” She said.

Jeb kept going.

“Use the pad of your finger, not the crook,” Jeb said, pointing at his own finger to illustrate. “A lot of people have a tendency to let the trigger rest in that crook behind the knuckle, but that pulls the barrel off-target and makes your shots go wide.”

“God, I’m not dumb,” She said, shifting her grip to match his instructions while Mike put his fingers in his ears and whispered singsong about taking the lord’s name in vain.

“Now, depending on how dumb this System is, you should get experience just for pulling the trigger. Let’s get started.”

“Now!?” Casey asked, her eyes wide.

“You got a better time?” Jeb asked, raising a brow.

“You can do it Casey!” Mike cheered. “Draw your fiery blade and topple these ferocious beasts!”

Jeb reached out with his Myst and snagged another flier out of the air.

“Here he comes.” He said, pointing. “Wait until he’s about-“

BOOM!

Jeb winced at the early shot and waited until the echoes died down. “Wait until he’s at the same range that the other one was. This thing isn’t a gun. The explosion is always gonna be in the same spot.”

“O-okay,” Casey said, peering at the approaching critter. When she determined it was in the right spot, she pulled the trigger again.

BOOM!

I should make some earplugs or something, Jeb thought. Maybe our Body will prevent tinnitus.

The monster fell out of the sky, a smoking wreck.

“I got two levels!” Casey said, eyes wide.

“Good! Let’s try that a few more times, get you to level ten before we get you a weapon.”

“What?” Casey said, paling.

“You didn’t think you’d get to keep the training wheels on forever, did you?” Jeb asked.

“But I just got them!” Casey protested, clutching the wand to her chest, no longer afraid of it.

“We need to make sure you’re tough enough to run away if you have to,” Jeb said  with a placating tone. “That wand only shoots eighty feet away at the closest. There might come a time when you’re the only one around to protect little Casey. Do you want to be able to protect your daughter?”

She glanced at the wriggling infant with Amanda’s hands acting as ear-protection, then back to Jeb. Her eyes gained a certain amount of steel above and beyond teen angst.

“I do.”

Single moms grow up fast.

“Good. That’s what this is for. On to the next one.” Jeb snagged another flier out of the air.

They kept at it until Casey got to level ten.

The girl dropped seven points into Body and three into Myst, weathering the cramps and headache.

Casey Thompson

Unclassed, Level 10

Body 20

Myst 7

Nerve 8

Once that was done, they strapped the young mother into some medium armor and gave her a spear and shield.

Under Amanda’s watchful gaze, they power-leveled the teen girl, with Jeb tossing monsters onto the side of the mountain in front of her hard enough to stun them, but not do too much damage.

Casey’s first monster, she hesitated, almost losing a limb to the creature’s maw before Jeb was able to pry it off her. After Amanda reattached the arm, an understandable amount of stress crying, and a visit to cuddle baby Casey, she went back to work.

When the dark-haired teen met her second monster, she didn’t hesitate, driving a spike through its eye.

Jeb stood there and watched the teen grow in real-time, from a frightened girl into a killer of monsters.

Still a brat, though.

It was times like this he marveled at the flexibility of the human brain.

He traced his thumb across the scar on his palm.

I. am. alive.

“I got it,” Casey panted, leaning on her spear. “I got level god-damned twenty.”

Mike covered his mouth with an alarmed expression.

“How many classes did you get?” Jeb asked.

“Three.”

Probably because the variety of her encounters was low. It was interesting to note Amanda had the most variety out of all of them, but not unexpected.

“Whatcha got?” Jeb asked.

The girl silently reviewed her classes for a moment before something made her scowl.

Giver of life (S)

You gave birth in the impossible tutorial and kept the child alive. You’re either really lucky, or really tough. Maybe both.

+15 Body

+10 Myst

+10 Nerve

Ability: Mommy’s little helpers

Imbue objects with artificial sapient life. Objects are loyal to their creator.

Mystic Artillerist (B)

Used Myst-powered weapons to deliver long range, high impact devastation.

+10 Myst

+5 Nerve

Passive bonus to operating and maintaining Myst-based weaponry.

Ability: Phantom shot

With an effort of will, you can cause ranged attacks, wands or Myst Artillery to ignore non-magical, non-living obstacles. This includes armor and fortifications.

Damsel (A)

Somehow you kept getting rescued at the exact right time. Why not make a class of it?

+10 Nerve

+10 Myst

Passive boost to being rescued.

Ability: Favor

The User may Imbue one (1) object with their Favor. If the user personally gives this token to someone of their own free will, the token raises their Stats by 25%. Otherwise the token increases its bearer’s stats by 15%. This effect does not work on the damsel themselves, and it expires upon the damsel’s death.

“…which one should I pick?”

“Obviously not the damsel one,” Jess said, arms crossed and scowling.

Jeb cycled through the options in his head.

They were all good in their own way.

The greedy bastard in him kind of wanted her to pick Damsel so Jeb could get his Myst into the eighties in one fell swoop. Damsels must be traded like a potent currency.

On the other hand, the Myst artillerist looked real good at murdering people. Put a wand in her hand and she’d be able to fuck some shit up.

“…They’re all good,” Jeb finally said with a shrug. “I don’t think you should feel too bad about picking any of them.”

“I pick Giver of Life.” Casey’s eyes went wide, then she keeled over onto the ground, groaning in pain as the headache/cramps/overstimulus blind-sided her.

Sensible choice.

“The mommy class?” Ron asked incredulously.

“Well from the sound of it, she can make the baby’s diapers come to life and clean themselves. Do you want to change the baby’s diapers?” Amanda said.

“That is something I hadn’t considered.” Ron said.

“Plus the ridiculous stat boosts,” Jess said, nodding.

“Plus those,” Jeb said.

Off in the distance, Brett was meditating, trying to build his own Myst Core. It wasn’t coming along very fast, but the Soldier was driven. Being woefully behind everyone else was its own special motivation.

Casey Thompson

Giver of Life, Level 20

Body 35

Myst 25

Nerve 20

***

Jeb was sitting on the rock, all his various magical sundries laid out in front of him as he pondered what to make next.

I’ve still got a huge amount of Worm lens and Scarab Lens. And flames lenses.

Fiery scarab worm? Jeb thought. If it was possible to make flaming flies, it should be possible to make flaming worm-scarabs.

I need to figure out how these created monsters interact with the System. Do they have Stats? If so, how does one affect them? The only thing I can think of is increasing the thickness of the lens, or adding multiple layers. We’ll have to test it.

He was sitting there, pondering his options, when Smartass flitted up and landed on his shoulder.

“What’cha thinkin’ about?” Smartass asked.

“Trying to figure out this Myst stuff.” Jeb said. “We need every edge we can get.”

“You’ve got this grumpy look on your face,” Smartass said, making angry eyebrows with his fingers. “You weren’t all serious when we first met. Where’s the guy who scammed an entire clan of faeries?”

“He’s gotta be the adult now,” Jeb said, glancing up. “Back in the Safe Zone, it was just me by myself, and it was scam or die. I was shaken out of my rut by the circumstances. There just wasn’t enough time to stop and let the fear catch up to me. But now...”

He motioned at the kids, sitting around the camp and telling stories to keep themselves entertained. Humans weren’t designed to struggle for their lives 24/7.

“Now I’ve got plenty of time to stew.”

He glanced up at Smartass. “You know, two months before I came here, I tried to kill myself? Didn’t take.”

Jeb shivered as a cold wind caressed the back of his neck. He glanced up to the smoking peak of the mountain and gave it the finger.

“And this fucking mountain keeps leering at me.”

“Huh?” Smartass cocked his head to the side.

“I don’t think it’s the smoke keeping the monsters at bay.” Jeb said. “Pretty sure this mountain is evil. I can feel it weighing down on me. Looking at me.”

Having a high Myst came with a few drawbacks. Like viscerally knowing you were squatting on an evil entity’s doorstep. He’d had strange dreams, the last few days.

“Thankfully, the only other person who can feel it is Ron, and he’s too young to have issues.” Jeb motioned to Ron, where the ginger was cackling madly at Brett’s fishing story.

“Hmmm.” Smartass crossed his arms in thought and did a little barrel roll in front of Jeb’s face.

“I’ve got an idea.” Smartass said. “As a fairy, I can cure your grumpiness, or at least treat it. But not for free.”

Jeb raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, how’s that?”

“I can’t tell you, then you’d do it for yourself. I need payment first.” Smartass said, holding out a hand and wiggling his fingers.

Eh, it’s worth a shot.

“…whaddya want?”

“Your fireball wand.”

“Try again.”

“The Fire-fly lantern.”

“Not a chance.”

“A custom-built wand sized for Faeries?”

“Uh-uh.”

“C’mon, all it would take is some dust and a tiny piece of metal.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’d give you the means to light things on fire,” Jeb said, crossing his arms and scowling.

“Cheapskate!” Smartass said, stomping his feet midair.

“How about a magic squirt-gun?” Jeb asked.

“Oooh!” Smartass immediately brightened, fluttering around his head excitedly.

Jeb pulled out the water lens and carved a small chunk off of it.

All he had to do was make a tiny squirt-gun out of steel, a little chamber for the water to manifest, and a hole a little bigger than pencil lead for it to squirt out of.

In a matter of minutes, Jeb had a little squirt-gun, appropriately sized for his tiny grabby hands.

“NNNG!” Smartass grunted, desperately reaching for the gun while Jeb kept it out of his reach.

“If you use this on me, I will take it away from you.” Jeb said, trying to impress his seriousness on the flying pest.

“I got it, gimmie!” Smartass said.

Jeb handed the squirt gun to the mischievous fairy.

“Yesss,” Smartass chuckled evilly, running his hand over the shiny steel of his new toy.

He aimed it at a nearby rock and Jeb saw a flicker of Myst get siphoned into the contraption.

PSSST!

A thin beam of water shot out and dug into the ground, while the recoil sent Smartass tumbling violently away, water spraying in all directions.

“AIIIII!” The fairy shrieked as he struggled to correct his flight before hitting the ground.

The fairy came to a halt just before splatting on the ground like a bug on a windshield. He was panting, shivering, wide-eyed, and soaking wet.

“That. was. AWESOME!”

Up the pressure a bit more and it’d be a water cutter. Jeb thought.

“Well?” Jeb said.

“Well, what?” the fairy asked.

“Your side of the deal. You said you had a fairy way to make me less grumpy.”

“Ah yes,” Smartass said, flying up to Jeb’s shoulder again. “Stay still so I can work my magic.”

Smartass leaned in close and planted a kiss on Jeb’s cheek. “You did your best. Nobody blames you.”

“That was it?” Jeb demanded.

“You feel better?” Smartass asked.

He did, actually.

Jeb started laughing uproariously, slapping his knee. He kept going until he cried, and then he laughed some more.

****

“Hey guys.” Casey said as they watched Jeb’s sudden gale of laughter from the other side of the fire. “I think I’m seeing a fairy. Are fairies a thing?”

Amanda nodded.

“They’re a thing.” Ron said, glancing over at Jeb. The peg-legged man was half-sobbing as the fairy patted him on the head. “They’re not usually that nice, though.”

***The next day***

It was Jeb’s turn to watch the camp, and he found himself alone with Casey.

She was humming to her baby as Jeb’s homemade soup-pot stirred itself. Mike was kicking his heels on her shoulder, relaxing while their clothes were washing themselves in a sapient bucket of water.

It’s like beauty and the beast up in here. Jeb was half-tempted to suggest that she bring his wand to life so it could fire at its own discretion, but he was loath to let control of the powerful weapon slip away from him. It was like handing a stranger a brick of C-4.

You just don’t do it.

The way they were bouncing from task to task to her humming, Jeb was waiting for the animated objects to break into song and dance, but it never happened.

Jeb pushed himself to his feet, and the humming stopped as Casey tensed.

He sat across from Casey and tried the Scarab Stew, warmed by the fire-flies.

“Could use some salt,” Jeb said, giving her a halfhearted smile.

Casey pointedly ignored him.

“Where you from, Casey?” Jeb asked.

“New York.”

“Really?”

“Why do you care?” she asked.

“I don’t really. I’m just trying to lower your defenses and psychologically manipulate you into not being so mean to me.” Jeb answered honestly.

“I’m not –“

She choked off her words at Jeb’s raised brows, seemingly struggling internally. She had been mean to him, and it was more than she could rationalize to deny that. Jeb understood the mindset, though. She felt like he’d been mean to her, and had to defend herself…somehow.

Probably projecting someone else onto me.

“We’re from Tennessee!” Mike said helpfully, causing Casey’s cheeks to redden.

“How do you even – “ she said, glancing at her summoned angel.

“Tennessee! I’ve never been. What’s it like?”

“It sucks. Everyone there is garbage.”

“Now, don’t label a whole state as garbage because of your shitty parents.”

Casey stared at him, jaw gaping.

“How did you know?” Mike asked, frowning.

“I’m not dumb,” Jeb tossed her words back at her with what he hoped was a gentle smile. “You didn’t know the first thing about contractions. I saw the scars on your arm. You were hiding your accent. All that implies you probably ran away, and your parents were either absent or actively denying you critical support. Either one is inexcusable.”

“So what?” Casey said, crossing her arms.

“So who are you pissed at, that I remind you of?” Jeb asked.

“…My dad.” She said reluctantly.

“Ah. Well, nice talk.”

“That was it?” she asked, frowning.

“Yep.”

I should probably shave so I don’t come across as an old man, Jeb thought, rubbing his chin as he stood. Now that Casey was aware of the emotional transference, she would sort it out on her own. He didn’t have to hammer it in. could do more harm than good.

“Jeb, what are you doing over here?” Smartass said, landing on his head.

Casey followed the fairy’s movements with her eyes, causing Smartass to gasp.

“She’s looking at me!” Smartass said, tapping Jeb excitedly on the skull

“I can hear you.”

“Excellent!” Smartass said, jumping off Jeb’s skull and flitting down to land on baby Casey.

“Listen up woman!” Smartass said, posturing. “I am the reason your child breathes air, and by ancient compact she now belongs to me, her fairy godmother! Take care of her for now, because sometime in the future, I will – ACK!”

Mike tackled Smartass off of baby Casey, holding the fairy by the neck at arm’s length, sword giving off an energy Jeb could feel from his seat.

“You will not touch a hair on her head!” Mike shouted, spit flying into Smartass’s face, flaming sword poised for the kill

Casey clutched her baby closer, her face pale.

“Help me,” Smartass said, looking pitifully at Jeb with bulging eyes.

“You got yourself into this,” Jeb said with a shrug.

“And shepherds we shall be,” Mike said, staring death down at the little fairy.

“For Thee, my Lord, for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand. That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee. And teeming with souls shall it ever be.

“In Nomine Patris, et Fili, et Spiritu – “

“I made it up! I’m sorry!” Smartass said, squirming in the angel’s grasp.

Mike stopped and glanced up at Jeb with a questioning look.

“In my experience, fairies basically make the rules up as they go. It’s only enforceable if you agree to it,” Jeb said.

Mike tossed the fairy away.

“Get thee away from my charge, pagan spirit.”

This place isn’t big enough for two tiny shoulder-sitting people.

Smartass stuck out his – her? – tongue and flew back up to Jeb’s hair.

“Smartass, are you a girl?”

“Duh. Can’t you tell?”

No, I can’t.

Casey watched the entire exchange with horror, her body slowly relaxing now that the tension was passed.

“Casey,” Jeb said, sitting back down. “There’s something I forgot to talk to you about, this little incident brought it to my attention.”

“Little!?” Smartass said, pulling on his hair.

“What?”

Jeb pointed at Mike. “That is not an angel.”

“Excuse me!?” Mike said, motioning to himself. “I am one hundred percent angel, leader of god’s armies, prince of the heavenly host.”

“Let’s try occam’s razor.” Jeb said. “Do you think it’s more likely that not only does God exist, he saw fit to send an archangel to watch over you specifically? Or do you think it’s possible that your Myst simply took the shape of an angel, based on what you think one would be like?”

“Ummm.”

“Mike is your Tyler Durden.” Jeb said. “He’s friendly when you want to be friendly, he said the things you wanted to say to me, he did what you wanted done to the fairy trying to steal your baby.”

“I don’t know who Tyler Durden is.” Casey said, shaking her head.

Jeb sighed.

“The prayer he was quoting was from Boondock Saints.” Jeb said. “You ever seen that movie? I’ll bet you have.”

Casey blanched, her gaze turning vacant.

“The point is, since he’s your creation, you should be able to control him. I’m telling you this so when your Myst Core is a lot bigger, he doesn’t cut someone in half in a fit of pique.”

“Hah! That’s where you’re wrong!” Mike said, scratching the top of his head. “I’ve been around since the dawn of creation –“ he started jumping on one foot. “And I would know if –“

He started patting his head and rubbing his tummy at the same time.

“What in the heavenly host is going on!?” Mike demanded.

“I see,” Casey said, letting out a pained breath before glancing at Jeb. “Thank you.”

“Better to be aware of it,” Jeb said with a shrug.

***Days Later***

Amanda Courvar

Celebrant of Sabrin, level 28

Bret Courvar

Soldier, level 31

Jessica Stile

Assassin, level 34

Jebediah Trapper

Mystic Trapsmith, level 36

Ron Spencer

Mystic Taxidermist, Level 40

I think we’re ready, Jeb thought, going over the party composition as they stood in front of the dungeon leading deeper into the evil flaming mountain.

He felt like a bug standing on the tip of someone’s nose.

Despite her fairly decent stats and level, they’d unanimously decided to leave Casey behind, since none of them were particularly interested in being responsible for orphaning the baby.

There was, perhaps, also an unspoken agreement that an unpredictable teen incapable of accurately weighing risk could do more harm than good. Jeb wasn’t sure, because it was unspoken.

They weren’t leaving Casey entirely defenseless, however.

Jeb had made her several mannequins out of wood with metal blades sticking out of their hands. Casey was able to bring these simple golems to life to provide her with meat-shields in case she was attacked. He also created a more advanced squirt gun for her. He’d taken the magical metal that composed the tip of the Penetrator and used that to make the nozzle of the water laser. The body of the water gun itself was nearly a hundred pounds to help the young girl deal with the recoil.

Thankfully, Casey’s inhuman Body made carrying it possible, if a little awkward.

With those defenses in place, they felt comfortable leaving the young woman by herself for the majority of the day while they dipped their toes in the Grave of the Titan.

Jeb stood in front of the massive entrance, breathing in the faint scent of sulfur from deeper inside.

It smelled like ass.

“Ron, if you wouldn’t mind?” Jeb said, getting out of the way.

“You heard ‘em boys.” Ron said to his host of zombies.

As one, the hundreds of zombies with Ron lurched forward and began tearing down the hallway, with specific instructions to spread out and murder the shit out of anything that wasn’t human.

“Let’s give them…a five minute headstart,” Jeb said, leaning against the stone door.

Nobody ever said they had to fight fair against the dungeon. If the zombies could trigger any traps and kill or weaken the inhabitants, then why not?

Jeb wasn’t going to begrudge Ron the extra levels. It was a simple matter of Ron being able to delegate more effectively.

Half of the people here could beat Ron in a fight, anyway.

After chatting for the equivalent of a couple smoke breaks, Jeb nodded to the two Courvars.

Both of them were wearing heavy armor, heavy weapons, and looked ready to throw down. They entered the dungeon, followed by Jeb and Ron, flanked by Jessica with a bow and the Death knight.

Jess being the most mobile and with the highest Nerve, was more than able to both watch their backs and step in if necessary. The Death Knight was the last line of defense, responsible for keeping their exit clear and staying behind to buy them time if necessary.

Ron and Jeb were the squishies, so they were safely ensconced between Jess and the heavies.

Standard formation, according to Ron.

You have entered a Dungeon!

Grave of the Titan.

As they walked, the hall gradually shifted from a well-chiseled entrance to a craggy, rough tunnel leading into the heart of the mountain.

The light level gradually became dimmer and dimmer until Jeb pulled out the BSF and created a single point of brilliant blue fire above their heads.

Only fifty feet or so in, they came across the first triggered trap.

It was a patch of discolored floor radiating a tremendous amount of heat. Rising out of the top of it was a single crispy limb of one of Ron’s zombies, slowly smouldering.

When Brett poked the discolored stone with his weapon, it cracked apart easily, revealing molten rock underneath it.

It was like quicksand, except lava. Anyone carelessly stepping onto the seemingly solid surface would get dunked in lava. Generally not survivable, but with the System…who knew? Still, no one was eager to be the first to test it out.

“Let’s keep our eyes open,” Jeb said. “There’s no guarantee the zombies got all of them.”

Bret and Amanda nodded, tapping the floor with their weapons as they cautiously made their way around the death-pit.

Jeb was scanning the walls and ceiling for hidden threats when he felt a yank on his legs, collapsing him sideways onto the ground with a grunt.

Time seemed to slow as he looked down and spotted a cherry-red tentacle wrapped around his feet. Well, foot and pegleg. The tentacle was about as thick as his arm, and led back to the lava trap.

It was reeling him in.

Before Jeb could react, Jessica stepped in and bisected the appendage, causing it to leak molten blood on the ground. There was something like a muffled squeal that vibrated through the stone floor, and the remaining tentacle quickly withdrew.

Jeb’s armored pants were smoldering and he felt a distinct amount of heat through them as he kicked the severed tentacle off his legs.

Jeb levered himself back to a standing position, staring at the rapidly re-darkening skin of rock over the lava.

“Well,” he said, panting. “That’s a thing.”

Jeb reached into his bag of rocks and pulled out a relatively flat one.

Mystic trigger.

He designed the trap to send spikes of telekinetic force downward in a wide cone, should a tentacle move within three feet of it. Hopefully it would kill the offending creature or convince it to fuck off.

“Suck on that,” Jeb said, tossing the rock with a light spin to make sure it landed right side up. It landed with a splat and floated on top of the lava, slowly heating.

Hopefully the triggers don’t get destroyed when the rock melts. I guess we’ll have to experiment with that.

They kept moving. The hall suddenly opened up into a massive chamber that was swelteringly hot.  It formed a massive dome above them that was pockmarked with jagged stone and somehow bore lines of molten rock tracing the sides of the chamber like veins.

Maybe they are veins. Jeb thought. If it was real magma running through the walls like that, he could hardly picture this room being as stable as it was.

The ground was rough, covered in jutting rocks and discolored patches of stone, along with strange tree-like structures that seemed to branch upward out of the ground, pulsing with molten rock.

“Is it hot in here, or is it just me?” Ron japed as they entered the chamber.

Jeb scanned the ground. Everywhere were the corpses of zombies. Some of them were crushed, others burnt. There were also the remains of the zombie’s enemies. Obsidian black caterpillars about four feet tall and ten feet long. They had jaws big enough to sever a leg, and they seemed like they knew how to use them.

They must have some kind of fire attack too, because most of the zombie corpses around them were charred.

In the distance, there were some stone/fire golems crushing zombies like ants.

They crept a bit further in, and Jeb saw one of the caterpillars still alive, glowing a fiery orange as it bit at its attackers and sprayed them with a white-hot death juice.

It seemed like they darkened on death.

“Let’s mark a good spot to fight with no pitfalls, then start kiting them in.” Jeb said. “Ron, can you make these things into zombies?” Jeb asked, tapping one of the caterpillars with his foot.

“Can’t hurt to try,” Ron said, rubbing his hands together.

***Casey***

It was hard to explain how holding baby Casey made her feel. Happy was a gross oversimplification of the rush of emotions when she held her daughter close.

My daughter, not his. Casey’s thoughts soured as she remembered her Samuel catching a flight to New York and having the audacity of asking her parents for the money he needed to abandon her.

What kind of crock of shit is that?

Baby Case started fussing, her arms and legs wriggling under the swaddling blanket.

“I’m sorry, was mommy making scary faces?” Casey said, nuzzling her daughter and checking for poopies.

If you ignored the ever-present danger, the half-excavated cave, the weird living utensils and blankets, the lack of diapers, the limited amount of healthy food, the smell, and the dirty, torn clothes, this would be an idyllic moment between mother and daughter.

“You’re going to need a bath soon,” She muttered, rocking baby Casey while the rest of the camp took care of itself, thanks to her Class.

The two wood mannequins Jeb had made had somehow communicated with each other through gestures and nods, before lying motionless on either side of the camp, to all appearances dead.

Unlike the other things she’d brought to life, they didn’t seem interested in bouncing happily in time to some music only they could hear. Their behavior seemed to carry Jeb’s underhanded nature. Perhaps it was their behavior following their form.

Or maybe their creator rubbed off on them.

Casey was conflicted about Jeb. His behaviors and mannerisms reminded her strongly of her dad. They were both roughly the same age, and had been in the army, but…

They’re not the same person, she shook her head. She didn’t know if Jeb wanted to keep her safe because it was the right thing to do, or if he had some ulterior motive, but he’d already done more for her than her dad ever had.

“Hey there!” an unfamiliar voice called from the distance, and Casey’s heart started slamming in her ribcage.

“Shit, shit!” she whispered under her breath, setting the baby down as gently as she could and picking up the water gun.

Casey poked her head out the cave entrance and spotted three men approaching, nearly at the edge of the camp. They were ragged, with bags under their eyes, covered in superficial wounds, and carrying well-used weapons and armor.

They peered curiously at the motionless golems, but ignored them as they approached the scarab meat stew, expressions brightening.

Get up! Aren’t you supposed to defend me!? Casey thought. If her defenders could hear her thoughts, they didn’t do anything about it.

Nothing to do but go out herself.

“Hold up!” Casey said, stepping out of the cave and aiming the water-gun at the three men.

Her eyes widened when she recognized them: Three of Eddie’s goons.

Fuck!