CWD: Sewer Skewers ~ Nine

Building the first forty living spaces had caused an uproar, as everyone demanded one for themselves. Nacho lobbed that negotiation off on Mayor Dan and walked away, informing him that the only people that could earn one needed to work for the guild by clearing out the altered Costco. “I need to talk to Matt; do you know where he is?”

Mayor Dan, looking harried, informed the Guild Leader, “I enlisted Matt Martinez to help plan some farming in the soil to the south. He’s pretty busy, and-”

“Thanks, and good luck with all this!” Nacho took that excuse and left at a run, ruminating over when he would finally get to go and earn credits for himself again.

It didn't take too long to find his quarry, as Matt was eager to work. He was the only person in the area that was moving at full speed and putting their full effort into everything that they did. It was clear that this was a man looking for any excuse to keep his mind busy. Nacho walked up to him, “Hello, Mr. Martinez. My name is Nacho, and I am the Guild Leader. I was wondering if I could interest you in doing some more… useful work for us than clearing land for a farm, especially when we do not have a farmer. Sorry to say, but as it currently stands, there's no point in this.”

“That's what I kept saying, but they said the work needed to be done. I'm not about to pass up a chance to make my way in life with my own hands. Call me Matt. What can I do for you?” It turned out that Mayor Dan had already explained a little about what Nacho was hoping for, and the man was happy to be on board with the project.  The Guild Leader promised to prioritize purchasing a Wagoneer’s Info Pack for him so he could do his research and a little wagon shopping. Relieved at his enthusiasm, Nacho left it to the industrious man to figure out a way to pull their Costco treasures back to the guild, and they shook hands before parting ways.

Nacho felt increasing pressure to get that project finished as soon as possible, which made him freeze in place and groan when he realized a very important fact he had overlooked: all of the roads were gone. Even before they could get wagons moving, they were going to need to chop down trees to make the game path wide enough for the wooden carts. The ‘road’ would be dirt, and that dirt would turn to mud when the spring rains came. “Why did I ever agree to be put in charge? Tricksey peopleses, convincing me to take all the stresses.”

He chuckled at his silliness; something about talking like a certain character that was always searching for his ‘precious’ just felt good in this situation. It was nice not to be on the verge of starvation, death, and destruction at all times. Letting the smile settle onto his face, he turned his mind back to his current predicament.

Moving the Costco stuff while it was still winter was important—the dirt would remain frozen into a good road—but equally critical would be transporting the supplies before other guilds or random bandits heard about the treasures. Nacho didn’t want the hassle of fighting off other humans while moving cargo.

There was a lot to do, and the days were full. Everyone was able to create their own routine, and soon days turned into weeks as they all worked together on gathering credits. For Nacho, that meant spending worlds of time in the kitchen, processing Putrid Mana out of meat, cooking, and selling his finished meals, though he was pouring most of his earnings back into the guild coffers. He wanted to build as many of the Great Wall apartments as he could afford, as quickly as possible before the worst of the winter storms settled in.

At the same time, The Dinner Party continued to venture out and level themselves up until all three of them had achieved level nine. Everyone in the guild had their eye on the Saturday Knight Armor and the Robbin’ Hoodie Archer Pack that had been pulled from the bowels of the earth, and all interested members had agreed to a race to see who hit Tier one first and could use them. Nacho and his direct Associates had a massive advantage in this regard.

The original idea of auctioning them off to the highest bidder had met with far too much resistance, since no one could really afford to pay what they were worth, and no one wanted to break the sets up, as they would lose the vast majority of their efficiency. The remaining option was a direct race to Tier up, and Nacho currently led the pack, thanks to his ability to constantly earn credits as other people lost credits by paying him for food.

As for the Robbin’ Hoodie set, another archer was breathing down Taye’s neck. Gabe would often go out to hunt with Brie and Reuben and delve deeper into the Deep Buggy Darkness for monsters and credits, and so far, they hadn’t run into anything Tier one. Taye was utterly unamused by this fact, and for the first time was forced to push himself harder. Nacho approved of this message: there was no such thing as a free lunch in the Juxtaposition.

Even Scrubz was contributing, having discovered another dungeon north of Armor Mountain; a place called the Perdition Staircase. It was a so-far unending series of stairs, each set going down deeper into the earth. The upper levels were infested by monster mice, which were low tier with a high credit value. This discovery brought a surge of hope to the guild: a new dungeon meant they could go on slaughtering raids in the upper levels without fear of running into anything especially dangerous. It was a great find, and Scrubz strutted around making sure everyone knew exactly how great it was that he had discovered and shared it.

Old Bill was very proud of his surrogate son. Those two were as tight as ever, even with Scrubz, rich from his find, moving from the cardboard shack into one of the eastern wall apartments. The only way to get one currently was to buy it at twice the cost of making it—so that a full new section of wall could be built—or working with the guild in certain laborious jobs.

Along with clearing the new dungeon, Gabe the Archer had proved that the hunting grounds around Armor Mountain were especially worthwhile to prowl. Some of the smaller animals, like rabbits, badgers, and squirrels, were growing more powerful and turning into all sorts of creatures that were rich in credits as well as meat.

Along those lines, the Scary Shelves had turned out to be a goldmine of high-level Tier zero and low-level Tier one monsters. The rat that had nearly taken out The Dinner Party had been caught and killed when a shelf holding workout weights had been pushed over on it, trapping it long enough for the damage dealers to expose its brain to the open air. With that threat out of the way, the common monsters in the UnderFun had been practically enjoyable to hunt, even for low-leveled humans.

The credits continued to roll in as a full month passed. Under Matt’s supervision, the first wagons from the Costco rolled in with a massive stockpile of the lost creature comforts from their home world. The wagons themselves were a wonder to behold, and it was instantly clear to everyone why anyone working on the teams was being granted an apartment merely for their efforts.

Horses would have turned into monsters, and any lingering skepticism on that front was cleared when they used the small woodland creatures as proof. That meant that humans were the only viable option for pulling the wagons, but no one wanted to be strapped to a wagon and unable to defend themselves in the event of an attack. Matt had requested a specific design from the Store instead, and it had been accepted. Everyone that assisted in moving the wagons stood on a short treadmill platform that spun massive tank-tracks instead of wheels. They had a handle to hold onto, but it was only a marvel of coordination as well as Matt’s expertise that using the contraptions became possible.

If someone went too fast on one side, the wagons would start to turn. They quickly learned that all the walkers needed to be at about the same height as their opposing counterpart, and they had to push on the treadmill with military precision in order to make the behemoth wagons function properly. When the teams returned from their first foray, they were already showing signs of highly developed leg muscles, and Nacho had no doubt that would become more prominent as they made the trip over and again.

The guild set up a block and tackle pulley system to haul up the supplies on big plastic pallets bought cheap from the Store. All of Armor Mountain was buzzing with the changes, and a continuous stream of new people came pouring in.

Reuben used his Marketing Skills to the max, posting signs on the game trails about Armor Mountain and the Chips Guild, offering the creature comforts of old Earth as a generous bonus to people that joined up.

The hired help worked tirelessly at collecting credits, and in fact, the first wagonful of luxury items alone funded the completion of the entire remainder of the planned Great Wall apartments. In total, they managed to squeeze in three hundred and thirty apartments across the eastern limestone cliffs, making Armor Mountain both more intimidating from the outside, as well as a place that radiated prosperity and safety from the inside.

Though people came for the goods, access to the digestible exploits of a world-class chef was what sealed the deal.

The term 'world-class chef’ was Reuben’s idea, as Nacho preferred to think of himself as a middling fry cook. A glorified sponge getting laughed at by a crab was something to aim for. When people compared his cooking to fancy fast food, he took it as the ultimate compliment. He’d broken down and bought Jimmy Cholesterol’s Fast Food for Everyone. Tacos, nachos, hamburgers, hot dogs, and pizza—he had access to it all. The only truly tangible benefit to the end of the world? Fried food was no longer the evil it had been.

It could’ve been the Great Wall, or it could’ve been Nacho’s Chicago dogs, but the Chips Guild doubled their numbers even as the number of tents decreased and most guild members moved into wall apartments. Beds and furniture were bought, people discussed decorating tips, the chimneys puffed cheerful clouds of smoke, and flower gardens and bushes were planned for spring.

The truth of the matter was that not everyone was cut out for dungeoneering. Those same people would only ever be able to progress slowly, thanks to the variety of work they did. That was fine for the time being, so long as a benevolent leader provided them with safety and shelter, as well as being surrounded by plenty of other people willing to fight and advance, but there was a clear divide in wealth and personal power that only grew larger by the day.

The Bills complained about anyone who wasn’t actively slaughtering monsters. The term ‘freeloader’ was tossed around too often, when the reality was that everyone found work. Charity just wasn’t an option, beyond the small family units that managed to survive together. A single person not contributing meaningfully to the community could easily create a disaster. Luckily, it was clear to Nacho that everyone had an income, specifically because no one had starved to death yet. Seeing as that particular demise took less than two days in total to come to fruition… well, the answer was that any issues with people trying to actually freeload would resolve themselves all too quickly.

As for Nacho, he worked tirelessly. It called to mind something Grandpa Colby once said to him and Reuben: Be careful of what you’re good at, because if you’re good at something, you’ll ‘get’ to do a lot of it.

During all waking hours, Nacho was either processing ingredients, cooking, or eating. He had to keep his Hunger levels maximized in case someone brought in a Wasp Bear, or a Goat Cheese, which they were encountering more often as the winter progressed. A herd had come within range, and Goat Cheese reproduced quickly. It was the only way they could survive, since all predators, including humans, could smell them from a mile away. They were white with creamy, greasy skin—more cheese than wool, without a doubt. A thin layer of slime covered them like fresh mozzarella, and their cheddar-yellow horns could deal a great deal of damage when they rammed into a hunter.

Underneath their fragrant cream-cheesy skin was layers of meat and fat, which made for great eating. Before they made their appearance, Nacho had never eaten goat in his life, but now he was constantly using the goat meat for the fast food recipes in the Jimmy Cholesterol cookbook. He’d bought a huge meat grinder to make hamburger, and… he hit his breaking point of waiting around after four weeks.

Nacho needed to get out of his kitchen. After spending an entire month without them, his number one destination was to visit Brie and Reuben. The cook put up a sign outside his pickup window that said the kitchen was closed, and people would simply have to deal with it. They could still buy food from the Store to regain Hunger Points and to stave off any Starvation Debuffs, so nobody would die while they waited for him to return.

Even with the occasional storm, winters had always been fairly mild in Kansas City, and this year was no different. Spring was already in the air, and he breathed in the fresh scent of the buds on the trees and admired the flowers planted along the Eastern Road. The people inhabiting the Great Wall Apartments were using their alleys for all kinds of interesting things. Gardens growing, functioning fountains which burbled up Tier zero water from a magical source… all sorts of changes had occurred to make the dwellings feel alive. For a price, they could even upgrade their fountains, which had led to an amusing spectacle of people alternating on trying to spend just a little more than their neighbors and have a slightly more beautiful alley.

Nacho waved to some familiar faces as he passed, and had to wait for a short while as a returning treadmill wagon guided by Matt Martinez passed through the front gate. It was moving so slowly that Nacho eventually decided to climb over the wall down one of the multiple rope ladders. He looked back at Matt—a big man with a big belly, who looked like he should always be angry. The truth was, he smiled as much as he looked furious.

Either angry or laughing, that was Matt. He would likely never be in charge of horses again, but he had mentioned privately that people on the Treadmill Caravan often acted exactly like horses did, beyond the fact that they would shout colorful threats at him instead of bucking or trying to bite. He was in his comfort zone and getting better at managing both people and logistics every single day.

Matt noticed Nacho in kind, and it seemed that he had something that he wanted to say. The cook wanted to scream in frustration as the Caravan Master waved him over, motions becoming more urgent when it looked like Nacho would jump over the wall just to avoid whatever the conversation was.

Despite the fact that Nacho wanted a night off, no matter if he was a Guild Leader, head cook, or chief bottle washer… being the leader meant his own desires had to wait.

“How is it that being an assassin had better hours?” Nacho grumbled under his breath as he reluctantly climbed back down the rope ladder and hurried to catch up with the accelerating wagon. “Maybe people were just better at realizing that annoying me was a bad choice.”