CWD: OE ~ Thirteen

Nacho hid in a thicket of bushes and watched as the woman worked. He couldn’t believe it. He’d found another Satiation Player, and it wasn’t a hateful hermit who drank too much of his own hooch?

Or could this be… Nibbles? The person even the contemptible System seemed to speak deferentially toward? Nacho had heard of the Necromancer during both this version of the starter World and in his Probability Vision. Most of the gossip described him as a tall, very thin man with a unique—very human—solution to the Juxtaposition’s food problem. Was the gossip wrong?

Nacho watched the woman stirring a massive cauldron over the smoky campfire. She wore standard leather armor, a thick shirt, a thick hood thrown back, and stylish pants. More to his annoyance, she wasn’t using a typical spoon, and it didn’t look like she was making soup or a stew. She had a table next to her fire, and there were a variety of strange bowls and objects there.

He tried to take stock of the situation, and scanned the area. The Portal appeared to be much farther south than this glade. A collection of tents and temporary buildings lay to the west. Some of the tents sported red letters, a ‘W’  on one and an ‘F’ on another. Other structures had a clenched black fist. Had Nibbles destroyed, robbed, or teamed up with the Midnight Fist?

Nacho didn’t know for certain, but this mysterious woman was alone for the moment. There were a couple of zombies close by—a large dead man with his skull showing, as well as a wisp of a woman who probably couldn’t see very well thanks to all of the blood-matted hair covering her face.

The lady that was cooking stirred her pot, and then walked back to the table. A glint of light caught Nacho’s eye, and he noticed a thick silver chain connecting her left leg to a nearby tree. She wasn’t Nibbles, there was no way. She was a prisoner.

This was a great relief, but it made Nacho freeze to ponder his options for a minute. This woman likely wasn’t a cook, which left… could she be the mysterious Brewer from the north? There was no way to know for sure, but he was hopeful that he may have just found a solution to several of his problems.

The cook needed to talk with her, but he had to be careful. Powerful Necromancers could see through the eyes of the undead to direct their movements, and it was likely that Nibbles was one of the top human powers in the world at the moment. That was a fight he did not want to start, not when he had a different goal in mind.

He wished he had his old Assassin abilities. As the Shadow Killer, he could’ve easily melted into the shadows, as silent as a ghost. Nacho would’ve appeared right behind her before she knew he was there. He’d done such things often enough, though it usually ended in backstabbing, not chatting.

But, he needed to work with the tool kit that he had. Nacho looked closer, mapping a path that would take him near one of the undead guards. If he was quiet, he could slip by the zombies and get to within earshot of the woman. She had to be a Brewer. Now that he was looking for it, he smelled the tang of malt in the air.

Creeping into the greenery of another bush, he managed to pick his way through the foliage, and eased himself right next to some dead guy with a brand-new sword that glimmered with magic. He grumbled at that internally, “Some corpses have all the luck.”

Nacho found a row of hedges and came to a full stop. He grabbed a rock and tossed it at the feet of the woman.

She whirled and her startled green eyes met his. First they were filled with fear, then curiosity, hope, and finally fear once more. She blinked, and her face sank into a shadow.

Nacho put a finger to his lips.

The woman nodded and started whistling, then humming, and then finally was singing some old-timey sea shanty about pirates and bottles of rum. She sighed and started introducing new words to her sing-song conversation starter. “Oh, Brewing is such lonely work. I wish one of the pleasant Necromancers, or a kindly Mind Player, might come and keep me company.”

She glanced around. Nacho did as well, but he was holding a knife that was practically crying to be slammed into a Necromancer;s tender flesh.

No one came.

“Might as well talk to myself then,” the Brewer seemed heartbroken over the idea. “Poor me, Jennifer Ales, chained up here against my will. Lost a lot of… a lot of friends to the Walking Fists. We had credits, boy. Lots of credits. Brewing up beer that gives people Mana made us a lot of money. Too much. Brought the full might of the worst of humanity against us. Probably should’ve focused more on defense. There are some big guilds in Kansas City, they seem friendly. Chicago had… issues.”

One of the zombies turned and pointed a green finger at her. The dead guy’s jaws clicked and clacked as it mimicked speech.

“I’m not talking to you, tall, dark, and rotten,” Jennifer evenly grumped. “Just talking to myself. Talking to my shadow… makes me wonder what my shadow’s name is.”

The cook whispered as loud as he dared. “I’m Nacho. With the Chips Guild.”

The Brewer kept chattering to herself. “You know, Jennifer ‘ol gal, I used to hear good things about this Nacho, from the Chips Guild. Won the Dragon Spear. I was kind of curious to see what he was like. He must be talented. To be a Common Cook? I know how much that cost in Evaluation Points.”

“How many Players are keeping you chained up?” Nacho hissed the question.

“It was more than fifty Evaluation Points to become a Common Cook, back in the Evaluation. Probably closer to a hundred, now that I’m thinking of it, maybe two hundred if we’re including the undead Evaluation Points.” Jennifer gave him a quick look, but then went back to puttering at her Brewer’s table and stirring her pot over the fire.

Nacho thought her language was pretty clever, and he wanted her to give them advice on the message system he was making with Reuben. He needed this person in his guild. The only thing stopping him from adding her right away was the fact that there were hundreds of enemies all around him.

“When will the other Players return?” Nacho’s words carried in the wind, flying practically directly to Ms. Ale’s ears. “How far away are they?”

“You’ve come a long way, Jennifer Ales.” The Brewer continued rambling to herself. “At least a mile. You know, living in the Juxtaposition? It’s like going through a portal. A big portal. Like that CrossHuman Portal. That’s where all the cool kids are hanging out.”

The Brewer sighed dramatically. “Too bad I’m chained here. I’d love to go take a look at the Portal. But this chain is thick, and I think it's magical, so I’m basically stuck here. At least I get to brew some delicious and powerful sodas for myself, and ciders for the others.”

That had been Nacho’s next question. He needed to know the nature of the chains around her ankle. If he were rushed, and absolutely needed to rescue her, he could cut off her foot to free her, grab her and her foot, and reattach it using Reuben’s healing. Even so, most people preferred to avoid amputations, even necessary ones. Nacho needed someone with a weapon that could break that chain, and he was betting that Mr. Lacrosse Stick would work.

Nacho opened up the Store interface and transferred six credits into the guild coffer. The amount they had worked out so they would know he was fine, but that there was weirdness afoot, and they should approach with extreme caution. They’d have to figure out a way to do Morse Code without having to spell out each word, which would take forever.

He sank lower, and turned to go, but… Nacho couldn’t leave without throwing her some hope. “I’ll be back with someone who can destroy the chain. We’ll get you out of here.”

Jennifer laughed bitterly before letting the sarcasm flow. “Oh, who needs to see the Portal? I’m so happy here brewing and helping out the thirsty players keeping the undead standing. I’m pretty sure that if I give them enough booze, they’ll eventually upgrade my chains from silver to gold. If I’m really lucky, they’ll give me some platinum. Fingers crossed. Who needs jewelry when you can just have the best prisoner accessories?”

Pretty, sarcastic, and a source of mana beverages? Nacho was liking Jennifer Ales more and more. Also, what a perfect name for a Brewer. Before he could become too interested in her fate, Nacho turned and crept past the zombie, and then hurried onward. He stopped by a footpath and paused, hiding in a thicket as a repetitive sound caught his ears.

Six soldiers in strange-looking chainmail shirts marched across the dirt. Each was armed with short spears with overlong blades. They looked like Japanese naginatas, though something was off about them. Most likely, they were CrossHuman weapons, because all six of the soldiers were wearing sunglasses.

Strangely, their helmets were cheap Juxtaposition versions made from red and yellow plastic. That made them look rather ridiculous, and Nacho readied himself for battle, but the six walked by him without stopping. From the color of their skin, and their stink, they were resurrected CrossHuman zombies. These didn’t shuffle, meaning they were at least Tier one undead—if not Tier two. He had no idea how that would impact their power level, but he also had no interest in finding out.

Luckily for him, he didn’t need to fight. Nacho tried to get a System View on them, but nothing came up. These weren’t Juxtaposition monsters, they were raised beings. Puppets really, controlled at a distance by the pair of Mind Players that Nacho found walking a half-dozen paces behind them.

One was a fleshy guy who had a tiny head compared to his body, and it was clear he’d lost serious weight after society collapsed. His brightly colored quilted armor didn’t fit well, and the armored black fist that covered his chest looked to be an odd choice. He wore a cloak with the hood down, not openly carrying any kind of weapon. Nacho assumed he was a Mind Player.

The other guy was tall, gaunt, and had a beard, but only on his chin. He looked like a goth Egyptian Pharaoh, with bristly facial hair that extended at least six inches from the tip of his triangular chin. The rest of his hair was buzzed to the scalp—but not with any skill. It looked as if he’d hired a Tier one Zombie to give him a haircut. This guy wore a collection of different bits of armor, none of it matching. There was some rusted chainmail, a big leather gauntlet, a bare hand with oversized rings on it, a boot here, a sandal there, but the real kicker was the backpack.

It was a camelback type of back accessory, complete with the plastic straw in red and yellow Juxtaposition colors.

While it made sense for a necromancer to keep hydrated, as thirst was such an issue, the Egyptian looking guy had clearly solved the hunger problem as well… in a grotesque way that Nacho had been hoping was only a nasty rumor. Over one shoulder dangled the plastic straw. On the other, there was a human forearm tied to the backpack. The only thing that gave Nacho hope was that it wasn't the right color for actual meat, alive or dead.

The arm was the color of a birthday cake, bright pink and white.

Tiny head guy stopped his walking partner. “You know, Nibbles… at some point, we need to get through that Portal to get revenge. It was what Craig and Andrew would’ve wanted. Camping out here is fine, but it’s only a matter of time before we either run into someone from the Chips Guild, or the katana-guy comes back through the Portal and attacks with an army.”

Nibbles turned his head slightly and took a massive chomp out of the arm dangling next to his face. He chewed and swallowed loudly, clearly attempting and succeeding in unnerving his fellow. When he eventually spoke, he didn’t talk. He shouted. “Henry Star, we’re going to win this game by conquering one world at a time! One guild at a time! Speaking of what Andrew would have wanted, want a bite? He loved making sure we were all fed.”

Henry lifted a hand and weakly waved it, looking sick to his stomach.  “No… I’m… full. What are we doing here, then, if not attacking?”

“We’re waiting, Henry!” Nibbles bellowed, then boomed with laughter. “We’re watching. The Chips Guild lost people. They're the most noble guild in the entire state, if rumors are to be believed. When they come, we’ll want to be here. It’s important we have a presence here. It’s a crossroads, and for every Player we kill and turn, our army gets larger! The more credits we get! This is where we want to be, credits and death, death and credits. All the while, we have that Brewer giving us all the Mana soda we can drink!”

The two continued walking along with the half-dozen zombies, only their loud volume allowing Nacho to hear them until this point. Then he realized that the path must loop around to the camp where the Brewer was working, meaning Nacho had to find his friends and rescue Jennifer before these two leaders returned.

Nacho had noticed how those six uber zombies moved, and he didn’t like it. They wouldn’t be easy kills. Now he had two rescue missions to complete: rescue Jennifer Ales from the Necromancers, and rescue the missing members of the Brunch Force from the CrossWorld.

“Why can nothing ever be easy? I’d kill for a little easy right about now.”