CWD: GA ~ Eighteen

It was already noon by the time they had finished spending credits, filling their water bottles, and taking stock of their meals. They each had enough remaining for three portions of food a day, for three days. Teriyaki beef jerky, protein bars, bags of raisins and peanuts , some instant oatmeal, and a few MREs. They also had nine credits left, so they could buy meals—and they probably would—but Nacho wasn’t looking forward to it. Store food was just… wrong.

The Dinner Party left the stream and continued down the southern path. Every once in a while, Nacho would turn to verify that Armor Mountain was still behind them, not trusting his sense of direction. Every time he checked, the mound of limestone had grown smaller and smaller.

Brie had stored her chainmail, since walking around in armor didn’t make much sense, especially sparkly armor. She’d also threaded a strap on her backpack through her helmet to carry it more easily. Reuben had likewise put away his chainmail, but his leather helm wasn’t overly heavy, so he kept it on.

Tragedy of tragedies—yet at the same time, unsurprisingly—the guy had fallen in love with the silly-looking thing.

Nacho wondered if the helm was cursed, until he remembered Reuben’s unfortunate history with hats. He’d had a fedora in high school and wasn’t even slightly shy about wearing it with shorts, a long-sleeve shirt, and crocs. That had been the year their friendship had survived its most difficult test.

The cook’s mind drifted to their destination. If Myron had bragged accurately, he’d found the MurderSong Blades early on, hidden in a strange dungeon under a waterfall in the southwestern part of the AKC. Since the population of Kansas City had appeared in the same region of the Starter World, they’d basically transported the names from Kansas City to the new world. South of Armor Mountain lay Indian Creek, which stretched down to the Hallbrook Ponds before curving northward. The MurderSong Dungeon was actually behind Tomahawk Falls, down at Tomahawk Creek.

That was the exact location The Dinner Party was planning to use for their exclusive event.

Later in the afternoon, they found another rocky bluff with an overhang of granite to use as their campground for the evening. They opted to put their bedrolls in the back, and agreed to keep one person on watch as a lookout either at the entrance or up top.

Even better? They found a herd of Tier zero monsters: Wight-Tailed Deer. The creatures were standard deer, if you ignored their tails. The fluff was gone, and in its place, they had human arms—but white and chalky. Each corpse-arm appeared to be very useful. While they couldn’t stretch to the mouths of the deer, the strange hands could shoo away flies, grab the limbs of opponents, or pull grass out by the roots, allowing the monster deer to then turn around and eat the bunch of leafy goodness.

Nacho crouched in the bushes underneath a tree covered in brightly-covered bark and used his System view to confirm his suspicions.

Wight-Tailed Deer

Effective Tier/Level:?

HP: ?

Brie recoiled in disgust. “Yuck. Is that an arm?”

Reuben’s eyes glowed blue. “Wight-Tailed Deer. That’s one heck of a bad Patron pun right there. From what you told us, the single question mark means they’re Tier zero, and it looks like they’re still herbivores.”

“That’s correct for now.” Nacho spoke in a low tone, knowing whispering would be more attention-grabbing. “But there’s Putrid Mana in the grass. As they eat more, they’ll mutate up to Tier one, and then they won’t be eating grass; they’ll be trying to eat us. Some won’t change, but some will, all because of the Putrid Mana. Let’s kill and eat them first.”

He sighed and handed Brie the bow. “You might as well practice—not like a kill on my end would get us credits.”

“I’m happy to take the shot.” She took the bow and the subsequently offered arrow. “But never forget that we get the credits. We’re here because of you. There’s no way you’re going to be allowed to remain weak as we get powerful.”

“Thanks…” Nacho muttered with some unease. “I think I might actually be more nervous that I have to practice cooking.”

Reuben patted him on the back as Brie tested the wind. ‘Don’t worry. It’s only cooking. How hard could it be?”

Naho hoped his friend was right.

“Guys, quit talking and let me bring home dinner.” Brie pulled the arrow back, waiting for one of the deer to turn perfectly. The most tasty-looking one was chewing on grass while its hand scratched at its thigh with jagged yellow fingernails. The Berserker lined up the perfect shot, and yet she relaxed the bowstring, sweat dripping off her nose. “That arm coming out of its butt is freaking me out.”

Reuben squinted as he tried to make out more details. “Technically, the arm is above its butt, not coming out of its butt. I can take over if you’d like? I’ll get credits if I take it down, but you’re the better shot.”

“That’s true,” Brie agreed confidently.

“Another thing; why didn’t I know you had this skill?” Reuben demanded with a slight chuckle. “Where on Earth did you learn archery, and why are you being so cagey about it?”

“Camp Sacagawea. Fifth grade. Archery unit.” Brie’s expression grew determined as she continued to watch the mutant ruminant. Releasing a controlled exhale, she drew back the string, took aim, and fired… the arrow struck home. The deer slumped to the ground while the other members of the herd fled. “I accidentally burned down about a hundred acres of forest trying to prank the boys.”

Nacho started toward the distant meat while Reuben giggled at his girlfriend’s embarrassment. “They’re still deer enough to run off? Good. In a year, they might charge us as a herd. Now, let’s see what I can do with this Satiation ability.”

Brie rubbed her reddened arm where the string had slapped her skin. “Well, we have eight more credits.”

Reuben helped his fiancée down from her firing position. “That gives us seventeen credits total, but I don’t get it. If a single arrow can kill a deer, it must only have five Health. Why is it worth eight credits?”

Nacho knew the answer to this one. Everyone did… no, everyone had. “Health points aren’t tied to credits; only levels and Tiers change what they’re worth. That’s good in the case of the deer, but bad when we start fighting nastier monsters.”

Reuben helped him carry the big doe back to the rocks in front of the overhang. Nacho had a vague idea on how to cook actual meat—apply heat and eat when it isn’t bleeding anymore—and he’d watched a couple of YouTube videos, but that was months ago. He checked the Store. There was an info pack called Killing, Cleaning, and Cooking your Favorite Ungulate. It cost two hundred credits and was located under the ‘Tier zero Class Item Gain’ category. The info pack came with a recipe called ‘Uncle Ron’s Very Fine Venison’. That would be helpful… but only one recipe? That seemed like a rip-off.

Grumbling under his breath, he pulled up his skill slots and went over the basic information on Ingredient Processing. It simply said:

Can remove Putrid Mana from monsters up to Level 3.

He searched for more information, finding an obscure note buried in the footnote of a page clarifying that all recipes were required to have at least three ingredients. “Three? One ingredient is the deer meat itself. What else could I add?”

Nacho knew that he needed to hurry before the Putrid Mana turned the animal into an inedible goo. Brie and Reuben stood watching him curiously, so he shooed them away self-consciously. “You’re freaking me out. Uh, take watch, put together camp, or start boiling water?”

They left, but Nacho still felt the pressure to succeed. His imposter syndrome was hitting him like a sledgehammer. He had to get this right; he’d spent a fortune on becoming a Common Cook, and if this was just some Patron’s ruse to make him lose everything, he’d never forgive himself. “I could be an assassin with amazing skills right now… what am I doing?”

With uncertain motions, he cut off the corpse-arm tail and threw it as far as he could into the forest, then found a price list for ingredients in the Store:

T0 ingredient=1

T1 ingredient=10

T2 ingredient=20

T3 ingredient=40

T4 ingredient=80

“Salt, pepper, garlic, even Herbes de Provence are all Tier zero ingredients? I know those words! Eh… most of them.” Nacho wasn’t going to take a chance on anything that sounded French just yet.

He broke down and used two credits to buy the salt and pepper, which came in nondescript plastic-feeling canisters, like most things from the Store. They appeared immediately in his two free Storage Slots, and he transferred them into his hand. Bright yellow packaging, blood red lettering—one marked with ‘salt’ and the other with ‘pepper.’ If cast aside, the plastic-ish material would last for a few days before melting away. If kept around, they would last indefinitely.

At least he got his money’s worth—twenty-six ounces of salt and eighteen ounces of pepper. He set the canisters on a nearby rock and got a fire going: it was time to make some magic.

Nacho had to laugh at himself: he was nervous. Even when he’d chosen the assassin route, when he’d backstabbed his first monstrous pig, he hadn’t been this nervous. After all, it was only cooking, wasn’t it?