Got another update in the works, just been real busy IRL recently. Will hopefully get some time to plug away before the weekend.
Zeroth
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"You're me from the future, and you came back to the past to keep me from suffering like you did?" asks my childhood self. "Something like that," I reply as I load the gun.
3 days ago
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"You're me from the future, and you came back to the past to keep me from suffering like you did?" asks my childhood self. "Something like that," I reply as I load the gun.
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4 days ago
That bot left a number and email. Someone should cast "Unending Newsletters" for them.
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26 days ago
Writing horror is super difficult because it requires telling a story while shutting up at the same time. It's fear of the UNKNOWN, not fear of the well-written descriptions.
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2 mos ago
Say "thanks," when they compliment you and smile. Watch more of what's going on around you instead of staying inside your head. If eye contact's hard, stare at her forehead.
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2 mos ago
@ColdAtlus: Cheems.
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Bio
On CST time, United States. Typically busy most of the week and do most posting/replying on weekends.
Most Recent Posts
"You're one of Cassius'... Erm... Acquaintances, correct? Could you bring this bastard to the guards at the gate?"
Connor stumbled out of the doorway of the shack, flinching in the bright light, then recoiling in horror as he saw the stump of the hooded man's leg. And the rapidly growing pool of blood.
"You mean before he bleeds out from his femoral artery?!" he said, his voice breaking at the high point as he gestured with both arms at the empty air where a second boot should have been. "Somehow, I don't think so!"
And yet, the next squelch of blood that escaped from the leg was slower. There was an odd sound, like someone sucking a straw in an empty glass, and before Connor's eyes the bandit's wound started to close of its own accord. There was no light show. It was hard to see through the gore still covering the stump, but it almost looked as if worms were crawling underneath the man's skin, pulling against it like drawstrings to close the muscle and flesh around the stub of bone...
"Did you know that was gonna happen!?" Connor pointed at the body-horror as he turned towards the cat girl, his expression wide eyed with shock and disgust. But she was already heading in another direction---wait, where was Cassius? Why had she been fighting with this guy in the first place? Had something happened?
The Slime sent him a message, asking the same thing. As Connor paced around the unconscious man, trying to figure out how best to proceed, he composed an answer. But as he did so, he noticed an unusual typo. Did Up do something?
Could they even have typos, given the nature of this communication? Did the slime mean did U do something? instead?
Contact: Slime
Ye, smth happened, but OK now! Guy was fighting w/ catgirl, came into the shack like he was gonna start something. I threw Caliboard at him, but then catgirl cut off his leg, and now she wants me to try and drag him to the guard station. Apparently he's not gonna die, but it's still really gross.
...
...Do you wanna try to eat the leg?Connor looked at the limb where it lay on the road. It wasn't twitching or anything. God forbid it start growing a new body for itself. Then he looked back at the hooded man, who was still just laying there.
At least he wasn't ragdolling out or clipping into the environment or anything. Status screens, monsters, and magic he could handle. Glitches in reality, those would be much more existentially concerning. Although, now that he was thinking about video game NPCs being ragdolled...
Focusing his mind like he did with the Status Window did not open a "looting menu" where he could simply press "take all" and immediately leave the man in only his underwear. Crap, he had to do it manually. But this guy had been about to attack them, and had lost a leg for it. Right of conquest or something, yeah?
It was easy enough to undo the cloak's clasp near the man's collar, and then just start yanking it out from under him. It was covered in dirt, blood, and something absolutely foul-smelling that Connor did not want to talk about, but it was a black, tattered cloak. Clean it off---maybe with the slime's help---and it would be baller.
There was also a bandolier of throwing knives. He had to work it and slide the belt around until he could get to the buckle, but he took that too. But even though he now had some actual weapons, one couldn't forget their humble roots. He fastened the bandolier over his own chest, and then hooked Caliboard to it by the nail sticking out of its end. The cloak, for the moment, was rolled up and stashed back inside the shack.
Contact: Slime
The catgirl said her name was Meira, and if what Cassius said about her being an adventurer holds up, it's probably safe for me to do as she said. I'm gonna try and get info from the guards. But while I'm gone, you should try to hide, okay?
I dunno if you've already figured out how to move or not, but maybe imagine yourself as like...a train? Saw a video once about how Japanese metros were like slime molds, moving efficiently between food nodes/cities. Maybe make a bunch of cilia like treads underneath you?If the slime did indeed want to eat the formerly hooded man's leg, Connor would use Caliboard (he wasn't gonna touch it, ew) to flip it over to them. Otherwise, he would take the still-legless, still KO'd hostile under his arms (cringing the whole time as he looked down at the man's bruised face) and start dragging him towards the guard station Meira had indicated...
Connor lay on his back on the shack floor, eyes closed, still trying to rest. There was no response to his request for water--and now that he thought about it, Cassius hadn't responded to anything he'd sent since the elf had left the shack. Of course. He mentally scrolled back through the logs, but found no indication of any "read" receipts or any other way of telling whether his message had gone through. But, granted how things had functioned this far, it didn't seem like service signal failure was a factor in this magical form of communication.
So is he just ignoring me? He clearly knows how to use the damn system. Still with his eyes closed, Connor frowned as his brows knit together. Probably busy flirting with the catgirl! It figures, even in my own Isekai story I don't get to be the harem lead!
Memories of many a rejection and long nights spent angrily venting on forums and social media brought back that special kind of cringe that only netizens of the modern era could understand. Connor felt his blood pressure rising and knew there was no way he was getting any more relaxed while he felt like this. He sighed and started to sit up.
Heavy feet thumped just outside the shack--a shadow passed swiftly over the window and was in the doorframe--!
"Took you long eno--" Connor turned, a snarl half-formed on his lips.
Then he and a hooded man, who somehow managed to look surprised despite the shadows of mystery emanating beneath said hood, locked gazes.
Connor screamed and threw his 2x4 at the man, before scuttling backwards just like those roaches he'd so bravely hunted.
So Zeroth, how does this whole temporal kinda thing work, now that I'm in the future? Are we just progressing normally, or is this more of just 'Esfir has the opportunity to interact with the other Runts before Auguz's training starts' kinda thing?
Grunthor and Agar I'm pretty sure are close to wrapping up their own days and I imagine Akeno is getting there soon too, so I'm hoping the desync won't be TOO terrible. I tried to word things in such a way that there are still openings for interactions in between Esfir's sleep-skip, as well. Otherwise though, yeah, Esfir is basically progressing normally and has freedom to do whatever within the camp unless she just wants to beeline to the training circle.
She could, of course, also choose to skip out on the training entirely, though as she's seen so far the orcs certainly don't shy away from the idea of corporeal punishment.
Orc Camp
@ERode
You've attempted to Craft several items!
Used Flint Hatchet to gather Dry Wood!
Materials: Dry Wood + Mycellium Lash x2 + Frayed Mycellium Lash x2 + Harpy Wing Membrane x2
Process: Handicraft
...
You've created [Primitive A-Frame Shelter]!
Used Wooden Stick to mix Materials!
Materials: Rotleaves x5, Rotleaf Seedpods x6, Pimplestool Mushroom x2, Crushed Pimplestool, Mushroom Shreds x3
Process: Handicraft - Rot-Shroom Paste + Broken Jackalope Point x2 + Cracked Tatzelwurm Fang x1 + Cracked Tatzelwurm Claws x2 + Broken Harpy Talon x1
...
You've created [Poisoned Bone Caltrops]!
Small Thrown Weapon/Trap - These bony, unevenly shaped shards have been coated with a poisonous mixture. If stepped on hard enough they'll likely break skin, delivering poison that causes a painful reaction in the nervous system as it spreads. If ingested or inhaled, can cause severe coughing or digestive distress.
Quest Detail: [Find Shelter] Optional Objective, Completed!
As Esfir settled in for the night, time would of course continue to pass. It was likely that other Runts, like the ones she'd teamed up with earlier this morning, might still be doing...whatever they needed to do, to survive. But as she watched the sun set in the west, and some of the orc fires dim, she would see an entirely new sky of stars--complete with their own nebulae visible from the surface of the planet, even!--that made no sense to her as of yet, compared to the familiar constellations of Earth.
But alas, sleep would come soon.
Esfir, When/If Next Morning
Regardless of how well Esfir would be able to sleep in this new world--especially if someone or something ended up interrupting her--morning would eventually come regardless.
When it did, she would awaken to a sight not entirely unlike what she'd fallen asleep to; the adult orcs were still gathering around cookfires, though many of them had smoldered out overnight and were now being sparked back to life. Other tasks, such as sharpening spears, patrolling the camp's borders, and forcibly conscripting the Grunts into hunting parties also occupied the snaggle toothed brutes all over the primitive settlement.
Esfir would be able to see other Runts--perhaps including some of the ones like her--all heading in the same general direction, sometimes followed by jeers and laughter from their elders and betters. If the foggy memories before her release from the Brood Pit were any indication, Head Warrior Auguz's Training Circle was somewhere near the center of the camp. The light was still twilight blue, but not for long--and she'd been told to be there before sunrise...
@King Cosmos
"Oh, aye." Yambagorn nodded, working her mouth in the way of elders who have few teeth left. "Meself, for one. Yamabagorn's last 'prentice, a foolish ting. Didn't make it, poor gul." She shook her wrinkly head, causing the many bone talismans she wore to jingle. "Shamar, Head Hunter, need more orcs too. Too many males tried her patience--or just dun respect 'er, so dey don't follow. Not enough hands to tan hides or lay traps. Less meat and leather to go 'roun'." The shaman's eyes lingered on Akeno's vest appreciatively. "If'n ye did a task already, den she prolly take a shine to ye. Den dere's Bowbh."
The shaman's voice lowered a bit.
"Ain't been right since he returned, dat one. Nuttin' wrong wif 'im, mind, but he ain't like udda orcs no more. Mayhaps you undastan' 'im betta den da rest of us, eh?" The old orc looked towards the distant blacksmith's hut, where smoke still billowed into the air and the distant dull thud of a hammer still rang out. "Can't no udda orc in da tribe craft like 'im. And most don't 'preciate gud crafts--dey dun realize, yet, dat our stones and sticks are only good for da little critters in da woods."
With that she leaned back against her cave wall again, and fixed Akeno with her searching eyes.
"Uddawise, it won't really be a 'prentice-shippin', but ya could ask any of da Brutes and warriors t'train ya. 'Course, all dey knows about not gettin' beat, dey learned by gettin' beaten." She smiled again, moist breath making a phlegmy sound in her throat.
South Caves
@Kazemitsu
"You know they're gonna dock you a shitload for not bringing back the body?" said the still-unnamed Runt, despite dutifully helping Grunthor hack off the other legs. "They'll probably accuse you of just having found a corpse, too. Even if I vouch for you, that asshole Auguz might not--"
Something down the dark tunnel that big monstrosity had retreated into made a heavy thud sound. Much like a body being dropped down a hole.
"--Remember how we talked about burning that web on the way back?" the greasy Runt hoisted an extra pair of legs so that Grunthor could make sure to hold the torch. His speech sped up considerably, as did his feet. "I bet Anthogs don't like fire, so why don't we giddyup!?"
Harvested [Ven Spider]!
Ven Spider Legs x4
Cracked Ven Spider Legs x4
Ven Spider Pedipalps x2
Ven Spider Claws x5
Broken Ven Spider Claw x1
It appeared that nothing had changed in the rest of the cave--the campsite from before was still ruined, that chunk of ore on the floor was still somewhat shiny, and that wide tunnel back to the outside was still shining with red-tinged afternoon light--!
Deep Forest
@ReusableSword
As Agar headed back into the forest, he now found himself heading up a gentle slope between the gnarled roots of the trees. It certainly wasn't as tall as the mountains around the orc camp, or the cliffs near that lake in the distance, but from here he could look back at some of the areas he'd already explored. The thicker trees where he'd encountered that horned alligator monster didn't afford him a view to see whether or not that creature was on the hunt again, but he could barely make out that one open clearing where he'd encountered the two large beetles, and the area where he'd first entered the deeper part of the woods--making it easy to retrace his steps and perhaps quicken his path back to the camp.
Of course, being up high enough to easily see your surroundings might mean being visible to other creatures looking up from below, as well.
Nonetheless, at the top of this gentle rise amidst several broad, dark limbed tree trunks, he could see a few other things: A single Red Cream mushroom growing between two roots; a pair of those other mushrooms that looked like a small weeping willow tree; a skeleton, picked clean save for some long dried gristle, that had once been a Harpy; and...
3 Turtleshell Mushrooms, more than he needed to finish his quest!
If he hurried, he would still be able to make it back before sunset...although, using Muffle would slow him down. It had been a huge help keeping him out of combat with the creatures he seemed to randomly encounter, though...decisions had to be made. Some risks couldn't be avoided. How would the orc runt weigh his options?
Update is in the works!
Connor had barely begun to rest when the elf guy's message appeared--behind his eyelids, even! He blinked and shook his head. He wondered if there were any "settings" he could access within this Status System to make it a little less...intrusive. However...
Of course. A tall, glass-jawed, pointy eared bishonen bats his eyes and the catgirl tells him everything he wants to know! And makes me look stupid for wanting to be cautious and not approach anyone who could probably kill us! He inwardly malded. I bet if I'd been the one to go talk to her, she wouldn't have given me the time of day! Probably call me a creeper or just laugh at me--or hell, throw me in jail for vagrancy! But, despite already feeling angry at the personality of someone he didn't know that he'd made up in his head, Connor had to admit that this information was exactly what they needed.
Neir of Cethaim, ruled by King Selm. Was there a text to speech function within the Chat he could use to figure out how these words were pronounced? Also, was this a constitutional monarchy or just a feudal pyramid system? The latter might actually be easier to deal with, piecemeal, because in that system while the monarch might hold more dictatorial power, the local nobles would command more loyalty from the populace under them, being "kings" of their own in miniature. Or at least, that's what Connor had read when doing research for his own fantasy novels. If they needed some kind of paperwork or permission from the lord in order to travel freely, or buy property, and other things like that, it would be easier to get if the guy with the wax stamps didn't also have to get it stamped by a succession of other people with slightly more authority.
No wars? Awesome, but then if they'd been deposited onto this world for a purpose, what was it? Either that, or their arrival itself was the flag for shit to start popping off. In which case they probably needed to get the hell out of this city as soon as they could, because this was now their official "Doomed Hometown" the Demon King or Dark Lord would waste no time torching to the ground in the opening cinematics.
Catgirl was an Adventurer, but no mention of things like "Classes," "Jobs," "Parties," or "Ranks." Maybe that was too much gamification to ask for--Connor's own status didn't list anything like "Mage," or "Otherworlder," and especially not something like "Hero," so he probably couldn't expect it to be as straightforward as the usual conventions of Isekai trash. Still, signing up at the Guild was basically mandatory in these stories in order to get fast cash. Even if a "modern" education could net them a job in the city, Connor assumed people here would be just as unwilling to hire someone who didn't have connections or a reputation as the corporate assholes back on Earth. Hell, in a culture like this where values like "family tradition" and "honor" were probably still being used, if you weren't the son-of-so-and-so being apprenticed to a master of such-and-such guild, or some other such "who ya know" status, any attempt at getting a job would probably be suspect to first impressions at best. So just like the situation with the catgirl, the elf would probably have no trouble while a loser like him and a non-humanoid like the slime would be booted out.
He shook his head again. He was getting himself too worked up over strawmen. What else had the elf figured out?
Teleportation magic existed. That was a lot to consider. Was it highly expensive and intensely resource draining to make use of? If it wasn't, this medieval world shouldn't have looked so...medieval, right? Being able to teleport goods, raw materials, and most especially armies would have ENORMOUS implications on communication, industry, mercantilism, and just about any other facet of world-building. Then again, Connor felt like he'd almost blacked himself out casting...what, five or six spells? That were probably considered basic, level 1 shit by any real mage in this world? Depending on what the actual level cap of this world was and how long it took to get there, it was probably a safe bet that something like Teleportation could not be used on a wide scale or by a large number of people within the world.
However...could Teleportation, or some other similar magic, possibly get them back home? In a manner in which they'd survive? Maybe even with their new abilities (but hopefully not their new bodies, in the poor slime's case) intact?
Connor sighed and rubbed his head, which had begun to hurt again. He closed his eyes once more--but once more, his rest was interrupted, this time by the slime. He read their message in the blackness behind his eyelids. He sniffed a bit--he'd already thought of a lot of this stuff, so shouldn't it have been kind of obvious? Then again, after all, he had to keep in mind that his companion couldn't see or hear much, and probably wasn't familiar with all the tropes or even the subject matter...
Contacts: Slime
Ye, keepin u hidden was what I meant when I talked about diggin ur way out or gettin under the floor if needed. For carry-on, I guess we could make a sack of sorts outta that tarp u were under b4?
I'm definitely taxed. Casted like a half dozen times rapid-fire. I think it gets easier once u have the mental image of ur spell, but I feel like I just had to run a mile while hungover. Like I said b4, when I'm better I'll see about getting us some wa--
Waitaminnit, I'll get that bastard to do it, since he didn't just abandon us after all.As his head pounded, he nonetheless managed to concentrate and send another message zipping Cassius's way. Oddly enough, the contact list had already changed the elf-man's name. Cassius? Like famous draft dodger Cassius Clay, later to be known as Muhammad Ali? Did he come up with that on his own or was that his actual name on Earth?
Contacts: Cassius
On ur way back, look for a well? We think slime can use their ability to filter it so we have H20. Next goals are fire and food. I can use magic now but not a lot, so we still need to avoid conflict amap.Connor sat with his back against the wall, a little bit away from the slime, and held his palm out towards the opposite, empty wall of the shack. He had placed the weapon he dubbed "Caliboard" into a gap in the floorboards so that it would stand upright as a sort of target.
Think real hard, and try to notice a draining effect? He mulled over the slime's previous words. Apparently the "contact" function included a log, which was convenient...but what if you had a chat with someone that covered several hours of dialogue? Connor wondered if this was like one of the group chat apps he used for gaming, and if he could create his own "server" and copy-paste or pin messages from other groups that he found useful. Something else to experiment with. But for now...Magic! But be careful, because overdoing it is painful...Right...
A blip appeared in the corner of his vision, which he scanned quickly--oh! The slime was right! If they could break things down so efficiently, their own body could be used as a water filter! Which brought up another interesting possibility...
Contact: "Slime"
Good idea! That makes me wonder, though--can you basically read the chemical composition of anything you take in? In some video games there are things like "Crafting" and "Alchemy" systems that let a player take, like, a magic herb or something and turn it into beneficial potions and whatnot. If you could do that, it opens up a lot of potential...Ah, wait, I'm getting distracted. Hold on a bit.Connor liked optimizing things. The idea of turning life into a videogame, where he could actually tell his efforts were making a difference via numbers on a screen as opposed to the "real world's" painful process of continual trial, rejection, error, screw-up, setback, and worthless rewards, made him absolutely giddy.
Especially if it meant he could be powerful for once in his cowardly, miserable, self-loathsome life.
So, Kinetic Magic. Briefly Connor mentally reviewed a vast number of animated television shows, video games, novels, internet commentary, and amateur writing (of his own design) where a character tried to "learn magic." For once, wasting his life had become somewhat useful.
It's not an "element" like fire or water, so I doubt doing a kung-fu move and projecting my energy would produce any results. The slime can't talk and none of us have anything besides the clothes...or gel...on our backs, so verbal and somatic components must not be essential. So that leaves...what, self-visualization?
Applied force. Force was mass times acceleration, so was magical energy being converted into both of those things, or at least somehow imitating them while being incorporeal? And "applied" force was...work, maybe? Scientifically, the measure of force exerted on an object over a distance? So the simplest form of that was...a push?
Connor wiggled his fingers, then clenched his hand like he was trying to strike someone with an open palm--not that he actually knew how to do that, but he'd seen lots of action movies. He looked at Caliboard, and focused his mind. He imagined...a ghostly, pale blue aura, enveloping his whole body. Extending from his arm. Shaped into a wispy, disembodied hand. Stretching across the distance. Pushing against the board.
He felt...resistance? In his mind? He gulped. His heart beat quickened. He pushed harder.
The awkward, scary, and uncomfortable sensation of using a muscle for the first time--something else he had never experienced outside of gym class and a short lived attempt (exactly two days) at accomplishing a "Hero for Fun" exercise routine--that sensation pumped through him. He pushed harder.
The mental wall gave way. What should not have been physically possible became real.
A cyan shimmer in the vague shape of a hand--like a bad artist's sketch--formed in front of his palm. As slowly as Connor himself would've pressed a barbell, it drifted towards Caliboard and pushed against the flat top--paying no mind to the rusty nail--until the plank creaked. That sound caused Connor to blink and jerk back on instinct. He let out the breath that had been under oceanic pressure in his lungs.
"HO. LEE. SHIT!" He looked at his own hand, which trembled as a smile most people would associate with serial killers and supervillain clowns threatened to rip his cheeks apart. "I can do magic! I can do magic!"
He thrust his palm towards the board again. The image was faster, the power came faster. The push was more violent this time--like the numerous times in elementary school Connor had tried to protect himself from a bully, knowing nothing more than to shove them, try to get them away from him. The spell was projected faster, striking the board hard enough to lever it a few inches to one side--its other end made another squeaky noise as it ground between the floorboards.
That memory darkened Connor's mood, but didn't discourage him in the least. Again he pushed, this time physically mimicking the motion with his own arm. The two-by-four was shoved free of its admittedly shoddy brace, and clattered to the shack's floor.
Connor didn't realize he was on the verge of hyperventilating, his face flushed as a bead of sweat made its way down his cheek. But it wasn't due to the drain of the magic--he could feel it, like the way an actual athlete feels after fully warming themselves up--but his own excitement had his stomach trying to leap into his throat.
How many times can I cast this!? How hard can I push?! How far? How fast? It was shaped like a hand just like I imagined--can I shape it into something else?!
He spun in place, now facing the wall and still seated. He placed his hand flat against the dark boards, and imagined a second one made of magic. This time the effect wasn't immediate--but slowly, haltingly, Connor's body slid backwards across the floorboards until he was an arm's length away from the shack's wall. He kept pushing, the sweat of real effort joining the bead of excitement on his other cheek, and his body scooted another span, then another. Soon, he had almost pushed himself clear across the shack using only his magic.
About ten feet before it can't reach the wall anymore! He heaved an enormous sigh--he had to stop not-breathing when he did this. Maybe, what, like twice as hard as doing a pushup? As he put a hand on his chest to try and stifle his panting, he noticed the real drain--like he'd just tried to sprint across a football field. But the speed at which I moved my own weight...Maybe I could get more but...The slime's right, this could definitely get painful...
And once again, the bullies flashed into his mind. Pushing them away had never worked, had it? No. They always kept coming. Even trying to hit them with a closed fist--a weak, scrawny, desperate fist, small and useless just like the loser it was attached to--!
Connor clenched his fist, and his other hand covered it as if he'd somehow injured himself. He sniffed as he screwed his eyes shut, trying to focus on what he could feel. The magic now running through his veins.
This isn't enough. He took a forcibly slow, deep breath. Applied force. Work. How do I get more work out of something? Ninth grade physical science class. He needed to start simple. Pulleys? Too complex. Levers? Was he meant to magically recreate the fulcrum, or the arm? No. Simpler. Inclined plane? No, it'd still be just a push...A wedge?
The example of a wedge, in his mind, was an axe being swung into a log. His heart leaped with realization. Humankind's first use of technology--no, of weaponry! First it was just their fists, then blunt clubs! Then clubs with wedges in them, and then...
Blades!
He calmed himself, and now with his back against the opposite wall, he extended his hand once more. He did not release the magic, but merely formed its shape in his mind. With his imagination he crafted a 3D environment, similar to something a computer modeler would use for animation and rigging.
I can rotate an apple in my head. Proof that I'm not an NPC. he thought, sardonically.
He formed the same hand he had been using to push with. It was actually a little clearer now than it was when he cast it for real, but not by much. By practicing more, he was sure he could shape it up--but he needed something useful, and he needed it quickly. Every moment they spent in this new world without a means to defend themselves was another moment of living in fear. And Connor had lived like that long enough, thank you very effing much.
The hand's "model" was pinched and pulled by Connor's mind. First it lost detail, becoming a simple polygonal block instead of some imitation of an articulated human hand. Then he thinned one edge of that block, rotating it to be sure he had what he wanted--an edge, yes. Like an axe head. But if he wanted a blade, it needed to be...
Thinner. More taper. Not just thin at the edge, but less...long? Width from another angle? He didn't know what the flat back of the axe was called, but he shrank that. As far as vertical length, he stretched that out a little more. What else?
Foru-ded wan sou-zand timu! Superior nihon steeru!
A slight curve. He wasn't sure how to reflect the next idea in his "3D Mindspace" but he tried to "concentrate" the mass, make it denser, harder. Like it was being compressed. He imagined dragging the blade down an actual whetstone, though he'd never done anything like that either.
Then it stood out in his mind, alone among a black void. He opened his eyes. Almost on instinct, he changed the position of his hand. Instead of extending his palm, he folded all of his fingers but the index and middle. And as he took aim at the far wall, and summoned up his magic, he swept those two fingers in a short arc.
"Cut!" he ordered the power.
He felt more resistance this time and clenched his teeth as the power released. In his mind he imagined swinging a machete as hard as he could. There was a crack and snap, a blue arc flying through the air--!
And now, a single board in the dilapidated wall bore a mark. Like someone had taken a pocketknife, and tried to carve a straight, diagonal line into it. At least six inches long, not quite an inch deep. These boards were dry, bug-eaten wood...but still harder than flesh, and thicker than skin. If Connor could land that on an attacker's wrist, or neck, or across the eyes...
Again, he smiled like the villain of some cheap slasher horror-flick.
Then he gasped and fell to one knee, one hand over his face. As he blinked and slowly took his hand away, looking at it and growing pale, he sent the Slime an update.
Contact: "Slime"
Gud news: Magic work. Can Jedi push stuff and shoot swords. Bad: Nose bleed, head hurts. If I hav aneurysm plz w8 48 hrs b4 eating me. Thx.The young man laid back on the floor and panted, chest rising faster and then slower. His nosebleed soon stopped as he pinched the bridge, and he realized after a few minutes the headache wasn't actually terribly debilitating--he was just, in all honesty, a big wuss. No, this was definitely just from getting too excited. He probably couldn't cast that cutting spell more than a handful of times, at least not in a row, but he didn't think he'd damaged himself permanently.
He'd rest, and then...well, then he had to decide how to face the outside world. It made a bubble of laughter rise from his throat. New world, same problems.
As the floorboard came free with a woody shriek, the crawlspace beneath the shack was exposed to what limited daylight illuminated the interior. A crowd of roaches started to scatter--and Conner jabbed his new weapon as fast as he could. The board's flat edge caught two of the critters, crunching them nearly in half. Leaning uncomfortably close to the earth scented hole, he managed to wedge the weapon up against a corner to trap another handful of scuttling adversaries. They almost got away from him, but with the speed and coordination of a gaming addict, Connor managed a second blow, then a third, to bring down the insectoid horrors!
Not nearly as dramatic as the opening battles of most isekai. Hell, even by casual JRPG standards that was barely worth calling a tutorial. But no new notifications appeared, and when he opened his status window again he couldn't see any kind of bar graph or rising numbers.
Okay, so there's a few options. First, EXP might not be visible at all regardless of what tasks award it. Second, the bugs might not be considered "valid" targets--maybe only creatures roughly "on par" with me, level wise or something, award EXP. Or possibly, only "hostile" targets award it--maybe whatever deity dropped us here doesn't want to incentivize wanton slaughter. The jury was still out on whether or not some intelligent higher power HAD plucked them away from their deaths and deposited them. But considering the way these things usually went, and that "hole" in his memory... Third, killing or fighting may not award EXP in this particular setup. It's rare, but there are some games where practicing your skills or completing roleplaying challenges are more important than being able to kill every enemy you come across. Fourth...
He'd have to think some more about it, or get more data. Probably both. The slime was already relating their own experience with trying to use magic, so he couldn't spend too much time lingering or they might level up before him.
For now he dropped the bugs onto the Slime's membranous surface, one at a time, and watched the result.
Contacts: "Slime"
Don't take this the wrong way, but watching you do this is actually pretty neat. Reminds me of a vid I saw once about how white blood cells attack foreign bacteria and such.He watched each cockroach be broken down, then noticed some of them were disappearing more slowly than others. The slime's surface occasionally wobbled. No more new messages came through for the moment, as they were clearly focused on whatever internal processes were going on. But, as cool as this was...
I feel like, even if we don't remember...no one would've chosen that form for themselves. If something or someone had summoned them into this new world, then the only two reasons Connor could think of as to why his companions were non-human were that it had either given them a choice--a "character creation,"--or it had simply slotted them into new bodies for its own purposes. Perhaps mere amusement.
So he, for some reason, was entirely the same, but some other prick got to be the tall bishie elf? Granted, Connor kind of hated most elves aside from the "classic" ones--and that was because most of the ones he hated just ripped off the tropes without ever innovating. But then there was this poor soul. No eyeballs, no mouth, not even a functioning spine. Connor leaned one elbow on his knee, and let his chin rest in his hand as he sighed.
"Just like Earth, I guess--some people get handed everything they want, and other people get shit on their whole lives." He muttered under his breath.
Then the last bug's body disappeared before its head. And its head disappeared very slowly. And...Connor felt like he'd need a microscope to be sure, but it sure seemed like something was happening inside that gelatinous mass.
DingHis eyes scanned the Slime's message, and a smile slowly started to pull at his lips. Then he pumped his fist.
"Hell yeah!" He shouted, though not quite as loudly as when he'd awakened the other two. Then he looked around sheepishly, as if expecting every fantasy equivalent to a meth-head to come spilling through the windows after them. But, so far, it seemed no one besides the catgirl had bothered to even check in on them...
Contacts: "Slime"
Nice! And, if you were able to digest the dirt, you could potentially dig tunnels to hide or get around unseen if need be. If something bad happens, the bug-hole I dug is...uh...to your left?
If you wanna rest, I'm gonna practice my own magic. Once I feel like I could conceivably defend myself I'll try to find us some water and a way to filter it. Bound to be a well around here but I'm sure it's filthy.Before settling down to another task that could potentially become very distracting, however, Connor took another look out the window--only to find that the elf guy had walked some distance away with the catgirl.
That knife eared sonnuvabitch! He better not be ditching us! the younger man seethed, clenching one fist under the windowsill. Turning away with new fuel in the form of spite and distrust, Connor blew air through his nose while angrily reading over his Status screen again. Keeping what the slime had said about their own abilities in mind, he extended one hand and tried to think about how best to test this idea...
Conversion of magical power into applied forces, huh...?
"...some sort of community safety patrol?"
"Safety patrol...You could call it that, I guess--"
That bastard, if he asks her who she is she's gonna wanna know who WE are! It's a reciprocal type of-- Connor tried to calm himself and focus on what he was doing. Nobody seemed to be trying to sneak up on them at them at the moment, so maybe the catgirl was indeed alone. Nonetheless, having a weapon on hand seemed like a good idea. Why's this so hard when the building's falling apart?! Of course, with my luck, I got the ONE structurally soundly nailed plank--!
"--Does pay well enough when I'm too tired to go hunting monsters or something, even if being in this place makes me wish I didn't have a nose."
Connor looked up at hearing that--and found the catgirl staring right at him. He froze in place, awkwardly contorting his face. The exchange of gazes lingered for a moment longer than he was comfortable with--and of course, the damn nail chose that moment to come free all on its own. The young man fell backwards, hitting his ass with a thump as he clung to his newfound armament.
"...Right. Well, we've all got our own circumstances, I guess--"
As Connor hissed in pain, slowly rolling until he could climb back to one knee, he used his board as a crutch until he could focus properly.
Contact: "Elf man"
DO NOT ENGAGE! She's either Adventurer or Town Guard! 3 Lv1s prolly can't scratch her!But, this was good! She was going to leave them alone! Once they had a few more things in order, she might even prove to be friendly. He'd been wrong about her reciprocating the elf's request for an introduction--No, not wrong. She just clearly knows she could kill us, so she's not worried. Wonder if she's got some kind of Scan or Appraisal ability?
Just then, another notification appeared in his vision. He had dismissed his Status window, so he jumped a bit with fright. The Slime was answering him...
And they had a lot to say, actually. Good, at least one other member of his party seemed of above average intelligence. As Connor mulled over the slime's responses, he looked for the most cobweb covered, bug-eaten corner of the shack. Upon finding it, he wedged one end of his weathered plank under the loosest floorboard he could find and started trying to lever it upward too--being VERY careful of the rusty nail sticking out of his makeshift lever.
Contact: "Slime"
Ye, typically "universal translation" is default thing, in most stories I've seen. Having it work w/o proper parts like u is new, but ya kno, gift horse, mouth, etc.
In a hut. Old, rotted. Whole place looks like shantytown. That's the plan so far--tryin to gather info myself.
I'll know if mine's useful if I can figure out how to activate it. It's a type of magic, too. Elf guy hasn't said anything about his. Biomancy? Healer's a good guess, but maybe more. In some stories Slimes can shapeshift, copy abilities from things they absorb, etc. If I uh... kill like, a bug, do you... wanna eat it and see what happens?Regardless of whether the Slime wanted to eat a bug, Connor intended to try squashing something small first--an ant, a termite, a spider, whatever he figured he might reasonably find under the floorboards or in a pile of refuse--and see if it gave him any EXP. Even if it was only a single point, or even a decimal, whether or not killing other creatures was a path to power in this world would tell him more about how this "system" they had worked.
Find a piece of information. Extrapolate on it. Experiment, find a new piece of information or clarify what was already known. That was Connor's secondary goal right now, but it was immediately conducive to the first goal: Survive.
They had shelter, which meant they had a little leeway before they needed water. Once they found that, though, they would need fire immediately afterword--especially if this was really a medieval slum row. Last was food, although if the slime could eat what would normally be considered "garbage" this bug hunt might kill two birds with one 2x4...
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