Left foot forward. Plop. Peg leg forward. Clink. Nice.

Peglegged | Debuff

Hinders walking by 20% | Hinders Speed by 50 % | Hinders Jump by 30% | Hinders Climb by 50% | Hinder Swim by 25%

Spook Peg Leg | Peg leg | Rarity 8

Resist 4 | Damage Resist 4

Enoch limped on for a while, somewhat enjoying his new walking speed. He could even Dash without turning into a fumbling ball of rolling limbs.

The explosion had exited Choo Choo a bit too much, the core flicked pebbles at his master’s face every time Telekinesis refreshed. Stopped once the lack of reaction sank in. Enoch walked on, zombified. True emptiness inside.

The chat zoomed by madly, ignored. A long climb toward the peak. No time to waste. If the butthurt players killers were still on his tail, they had definitely seen the explosion.

His trance took him to a well-hidden spot. A pitiful excuse of a cave. No idea how long it had taken but the sun was still up. A sip of beer and a yellow energy translation took him to his obsidian moon.

Enoch wanted more combat capabilities, but more Mobility would compensate for his handicap. Yep, combat would have to wait for a level, or two.

He took Sprint on one fork of the Mobility path, backtracked for +1 Jump and then forward to +1 Mobility. The next choices appeared after each activation, two nodes deep tanks to his Luck. The last unlocked Skill stole him a smile. Parkour. It would also have, unfortunately, to wait for another level.

Sprint 1 | Skill | Rarity 1

2x Speed for a decent stretch.

Duration 15 seconds | Refresh 1 minute

Cost 25 Stamina

Mobility 4 | Attribute | Rarity 3

40% improved Speed

Speed 4 | Jump 4 | Climb 4 | Swim 4

Jump 5 | Attribute | Rarity 2

Multiplier x7

Amped-up, he did a ninja move and teleported to Choo Choo’s sphere. Shiny metal and whistling winds. Industrial music. One quick look to be sure that he wasn’t missing an amazing option, and he went on to + 1 Willpower. Nigh useless for a golem core but it opened the path to the Totem Golem Spell.

Willpower 1 | Attribute | Rarity 1

Mana +10 | Stamina +10 | Resist 1

Back to the gaming world. Clumping away on the hard soil. Crumbling volcanic stone with each stomp.

His gambeson trailed behind him in a knot, full of bark from the Spook. He dragged it by one sleeve, fabric eroding on the porous soil. The whole bundle clanked. The mineralized wood scrapping together made the cringy noises of a scratched chalkboard.

The AI music generator picked on the sounds, turned into a western ballad with well placed laser sounds. Good times.

Thin air up here, clear view of the sharp peaks and the thin line of the pass, not that far, not that close. Onward. Dash, walk, Sprint and repeat.

***

Few lights on the fort guarding the pass, finally getting closer. Strong walls, built into a chevron, extending from the cliff wall, filled with packed earth. The rest of the structure dug into the mountain, balconies and arrow slits scattered at random.

The game had advanced architecture. Much better than the medieval standards. Spells had to be accounted for, some of them stronger than canon balls, his bundle of wands being a prime example. Star shaped fortress dominated along the modern favorites, tunnels, trenches and bunker.

The chat appreciated the novelty.

“Finally, something new. This stream turned into a cripple simulator.”

“Came here for ogre trains, got a peg legged pack mule.”

Two visible sentries. Well concealed for the average NPC, but not enough for his Perception. No one hailed him. He reached the main door, a narrow slab of solid iron, with a patina of rust, hidden in a recess. Enoch felt vulnerable. Because he was. Dead in the center, between ominous slits and unseen engines of war. The defenders could kill him with the flick of a lever. He knocked, Choo hovering at a safe distanced outside the porch of death.

It took an eternity and four knocking sessions until a voice answered, managing to meld the deep end of boredness with the high pitched, raspy voice of an old lady.

“Who present himself at the fort and insist so?”

“A weary Outsider, on his way to deliver his cargo to the Drone Shaft. What’s left of it at least.”

***

Four ladies seated at the table, looking at him with benevolent smiles. Three grumpy geezers, mad at the young stud stealing all the attention. The chat picked on the situation.

“They mad, Enoch took all their game.” Tip 11$

Seven soldiers in total, in shape, yet past their prime. The burliest one, a woman, stitched the holes in his roll of chainmail. Her large pincers clipped away with satisfying thumps, her hands danced to unseen rhythms, alternating between the steel fabric and a box of thick rings, almost empty.

The rest of the cargo spread on the large table. A pile of broken glass in one corner, two bottles of gin on one side, one healing potion beside them, Ipabo – the magical idol – in his own spot, a pile of mineralized bark in the middle. The soldiers alternated between each item, shaking their head in approval every time they saw the remaining bottles of juniper spirit.

“Great brand,” said one grumpy soldier.

“If I say so,” said his grumpy friend.

“Her favorite, by far.”

“Quite.”

“Too bad about the broken one.”

“Too bad,” said a third grumpy soldier.

“If I say so.”

The captain stared at her companions, gave a look to Enoch and said, “Sorry, we’re out of hands. We kept the strict minimum and sent everyone else to the Drone Shaft. They’re all there, fighting the mutants. It’s bad.”

The silence stretched for a while. She continued, “Tell you what, sleep here tonight. Lets us craft you something out of the bark and we’ll give you a new quest tomorrow. I’m sure our comrades will appreciate whatever Jarmila manages to do with it.” She slapped the burly woman, busy with the chainmail, made her jump, drop a ring and swear.

Enoch nodded twice and said, “deal, my golem core will help her.” He sipped his hot wine, thanked his guess and followed his grumpy guide to his designated bed.