Rule 4

Trial and Error Sucks & Don’t Get Caught

Statement: A tiny faerie named Midge the Tattletale once spouted to me about secrets. So did the stewardesses, and Little Shade. Secrets are important to this world. But I have only found monsters to fight, and artifacts that gave me extra abilities. These do not feel like secrets, so much as prizes for survival.

Is it my perspective that is wrong, or is there more to the deal of a secret than simply finding stuff? Little Shade said a secret led her to a wide brimmed hat that cast a permanent shadow. What was the point of having this in the world? I can’t figure out how it all relates and it’s driving me mad.

Multiple aspects of our altered reality still made no sense. We’d spent the last hour fighting comically enlarged versions of alley denizens. In theory, by having completed the “dungeon” and using a nearby exit point, we would be obscured from the enemy’s view. There’d also be no newly spawned monsters in the event of our need to flee from an enraged ogre compound.

We sat on a second floor roof behind a broken food sign. This had been a burger place. Below us were giant ogres topping eight or nine feet in height. They ignored us and went about their tasks. Their backs bowed by excessive muscle. Their calves easily thicker than my entire body. Dozens of the monsters dragged sheets of metal and nailed them to support beams that arched over the former street right across the way.

Post Note: The simplest description of this place is as follows; take every single outdoor shed in the city, strip their metal siding off, and use it to make new walls where desired. Apply ample urine and indifference. Age until the surface takes on a reddish hue. Dab refuse for an extra touch.

They were encasing the block and removing any possible light that might peek in. Our burger joint lookout sat right at the edge of their current fortifications. Over the buildings and two blocks in, would be the converted room that used to house a presidential statue. Last time, I’d noticed that the ogres had removed the marble statue of president Lincoln and turned it into a throne.

“Even if we succeed in slowing their growth down, how do we kill their leader? His eyes weren’t that weak last time. Maybe his heel?” Leon sat on a sturdy wooden stool that someone had brought to the roof. Carrying around all that armor wore him down. I’d seen him without the pads once, exactly once, he had thick shoulders, and blood stained bandages. Even that one glance had been lucky, and he’d still worn his chest piece and leggings.

“Like Achilles? You think he’s been dipped in a river and that’s why he’s so impossible to kill?” Callisto responded.

Leon shrugged and winced. The helmet normally covered his face but he’d taken it off.

Allegra lay on the ground with her legs kicking in the air. I waited for those robes to come down and reveal a bit more leg, but they were reluctant. My head shook. Allegra had a sketch of Leon and the Ogre King side by side.

“The bombs did nothing,” I reminded them. “And I used three last time. They should have hit his heel. At most he reacts to the force, but it leaves no lasting damage.”

“Maybe it’s a siege event. Like we have to tank him, while killing his minions. Ten or twenty dead and the boss can be damaged. Any sign of his power coming from them?” Leon pondered.

I stared at the ceiling and wondered if Leon’s armor would protect him from a knife in the eye. Obviously not at that moment, but in the future.

“No. I’ve tuned the map for power lines, and I’m not seeing anything.” Allegra pressed a finger into the parchment as sweat dripped down her forehead. “Near as I can tell there’s no events.”

“We can’t even get in there. Those ogres are too tough.” Callisto waved with disgust at the crowd of monsters who were steadily fortifying the area. “I mean look, you can see where they demolished the heights. That means they had to take out the nests that were up on the eighth floor. Those support beams and the bricks are all being brought over from the ruins.”

I didn’t know what nests Callisto was talking about. She continued rambling about all the possible reasons we couldn’t defeat them without more weapons, experience, gear, and powers. On this point, we agreed.

South a few blocks, sat the ruins of a building that had once been the tallest building in town. I believed it to be where Little Shade had found her magical hat. She’d called the place “swanky as fuck” or something close. The building had been turned into a shell of its former glory.

“Do they have supplies we can poison?” Leon asked.

“There’s a pig pen on the eastern side. And a mushroom farm. Then there’s some room called the Swill Factory. I’m not sure I wanna know,” Allegra said. She grunted and let out a long shuddering sigh.

Honestly, Allegra’s resonance skills were better than mine by a large margin. Her weakness lay in performing instantly. Most of her magic took time, and the longer she sketched a single picture, the more detailed it became. The picture of the compound she’d been working on for ten minutes had fancy lines and scrawled details all over it. Several tracings on the page linked different areas together.

“I think I have an idea,” Allegra said.

The other two perked up and jerked their heads in her direction.

“It’s the buildings, isn’t it?” I guessed. “They’re connected to his power.”

The robed woman nodded. “That’s what all these markings show. It’s not the people. It’s the buildings.”

Callisto placed an arm on my shoulder. I shuddered then rolled the shoulder to shake off the annoyed feeling. “How did you know?”

“The first time I tried to sneak attack him, he didn’t care about his companions. The second time, he still didn’t care, but when I blew up a gym’s doorway? He was furious.” I smiled at the memory. It had been extremely funny to find something that irked the smug monster.

Post Note: I realize this journal may seem weird still. That’s why I write these extra notes in the margins. Additionally, there’s a month of time I’m glazing over. During that month I refined my existing skills, found a better place in the party with the others, and killed a lot of lesser monsters. I’d also tried to decapitate the ogre king twice, by myself.

“Can we blow up the buildings? Taking out their food supply would set them back.” Callisto stepped back to the edge. Her arms crossed and her short hair fluttered in the breeze.

Allegra folded her legs and sat up. She straightened the house robes and patted her piece of paper. “Taking out the food would make them range farther out.”

“If they leave they may discover our park,” Leon said.

“Or they may find more monsters and die.”

“No. It’s not the food we need to take out. It’s this.” Allegra pointed on the map. The rest of us gathered to stare at her penciled in area. Under her fingers the details refined even further, and illegible words etched into the parchment with such detail they seemed to pop off the page.

“I can’t read that,” Callisto said.

Leon winced and tilted his head away to hide a budding blush. “I know what that is.”

“What?” Callisto asked.

I knew the place as well. Most guys did, even if they’d never stepped inside. Leon could make an excuse about knowing almost all the locations in town, since he used to drive people around in a county bus.

“It used to be an adult bookstore. Rumor had it that the rooms above it were rented, with… paid ladies…” His words faded and he coughed.

Those rumors had been circulating through high school for years. Richard had confided in me once, that when I turned of legal age he might introduce me to someone in the area. It also meant that as Hawthorn, I’d be going nowhere near the place. I feared what might happen if I walked in there with sex on my mind.

“So…” Callisto drifted off for a moment. “They’re making baby monsters?”

“Maybe? I’ve never seen a room like that before. Hitting it should slow down this army.”

“I can’t go there,” I said abruptly. My brain worked to shove out a whole list of reasons that would be the truth and sound entirely foul. Instead, I settled on, “Someone needs to distract the King. I can also cause a lot of destruction to other areas. If you guys can bring down the building.”

“Can we bring it down?” Callisto asked.

“Maybe. If I have enough time I can probably find the right supports. Then blow those…” Allegra sighed.

The other three kept talking and I reiterated occasionally that I’d be elsewhere. My head hurt from dealing with these people and fighting off the near constant impulse to borrow Callisto for adult activities.

It took us too long, but eventually we had a plan. I’d go to the pig farm and blow up anything that moved. Once the confusion mounted enough, I’d slip away and escape. If events went well, I’d go to a third location and cause additional havoc. They agreed with me that the gym should be second.

“And all this destruction will buy us enough time to find this artifact at Crown State Park?” Callisto asked. “That’s what we need, time.”

“Maybe,” Leon said. “The rest will be up to Mayor Kent and the gardeners. He knows we’ll need days to explore the park, maybe longer.”

“I’m sure he does know,” Callisto said flatly.

Their conversation led me to believe we’d need a lot longer than a few days. I expected our adventure to take a week or two at minimum. Stella would be taken care of by the elves.

“You ready, Thorn?” Allegra asked.

I nodded and shoved budding concerns down into a pit. Our success here would take the risk off Mayor Kent’s people.

Post Note: I look back at this and wonder why any actions from this day seemed like good ideas. We could have packed up and escorted everyone to a new safer location away from the building ogre army. We could have lured the hydra down here.

Mayor Kent focused on gaining downtown. Allegra and Leon did as ordered. Callisto wanted to protect the people. I wanted to keep Stella safe. Each of us worked on this idiotic goal because of one man’s drive.

I promised to provide a clear signal. They agreed to start after hearing explosions. We understood each other. We went our separate ways.

Having the women out of sight helped me stop imagining them without clothes. That freed up more time to worry about my success here. The other three would be able to work together, but no one would come to my rescue. This was not unusual, but for the first few hours after doing a group dungeon, I always felt mentally disoriented.

Inside that alley, we worked together. The monsters could easily kill us. That fact had never once been in doubt. Being with the others provided a safety net that this sort of solo work couldn’t compare with.

My only companions were the ogres, who were oblivious to my presence as I walked calmly among them. Any one of them could have turned and whacked me with a piece of iron rebar or some support beam they’d dug out of a ruined building. I’d probably survive but be battered, broken, and praying my sneakiness kicked in before they finished the job.

That exact situation had happened once before, during my first fight with three ogres at once. They were tougher in packs. I’d sat out here killing monsters for three days straight before needing to return for supplies. Their hordes were difficult to quantify, and my actions might be equated to moving the beach with a child’s toy bucket.

My assigned target became a pig barn far away from the former adult bookstore and possible prostitute location for ogres. The building had a few thick supports in the middle and sheets of poorly reinforced tiling across the top. Allegra told me the ogres had stolen it from shipping crates at the back of a supermarket.

I wove down the streets and under badly constructed rooftops. The storefronts here were hollowed out. Most places had been turned into makeshift beds. Clear indents were in the tile flooring and used wrappers scattered around in small ovals. These spots were where their oversized bodies slept each night.

After scoping escape routes, quiet alleys, rooftop access points, and weak spots for explosives, I made it to the ogre pig farm. What used to be a children’s playground and outdoor theater had been expanded on to become a large pen with thick boards.

A long trough was on one side, filled to the brim with mixed materials. I paused long enough to take note of dead bodies, plants, broken bricks, and numerous other items that had been turned into pig feed. This ran counter to my limited knowledge of real farms.

Post Note: Here, I should share that monsters killing each other don’t cause the same effects as us killing them. When we remove them, light orbs appear and bodies vanish. When they kill each other, it leaves a mess. They also defecate everywhere.

According to Allegra, there should be some support beams to blow up. By taking those down, they’d have less room for pigs. Their food supply would be hurt, and the chain of effects went on from there. Examples included reduced food, reduced breeding power, and fewer defenders to fight off the other monsters.

The place was packed to the gills with fat green pigs. I sat at the fence with my nose plugged and debated the best way through a throng of creatures that might mistake my foot for lunch.

Other buildings were nearby. None of them had any chance of causing collateral damage. Most were already collapsed into rubble. Two ogres were busy dragging bits of conquered enemies to the buildings. Another lifted rock after rock and threw it at the trough. He missed as often as he hit.

Ogres weren’t much smarter than mini-orcs in this regard. Neither race had demonstrated the capability of using a wheelbarrow to make lifting easier. Still, magic must be assisting them, because this many pigs couldn’t have bred on their own or even in the amount of time this new world had existed.

Two more ogres grabbed pigs. Technically, one lifted a target then pinned the separated porker to the ground. The other punched the pig in the face until they stopped moving, and the first ogre carried it away.

I watched for ten minutes. This process continued the entire time, with new ogres coming in for meals while others brought in supplies. That gave me two targets, with a few seconds to travel from one location to the next.

The ogres switched spots. More came in seeking supplies. I slapped a fresh explosive rune down on the fence they’d been leaning over to grab pigs. It should go off when the next one arrived. I ran straight for the pig barn wall and hugged its side. The ogres were stupid and unlikely to notice me, but standing out in the open would be folly.

Wearing red clothes to blend in with the rust covered buildings might have helped. How any creatures could live, eat, or fornicate in this messy compound was beyond me. Mayor Kent’s buildings were far cleaner and smelled better.

Such judgments kept me busy until the first bomb was about to be triggered. I leaned out slightly to witness the results. An ogre reaching in to pull up a pig died as his chest tore open and body was thrown backward. His death and the sudden noise set the giant green pigs into a frenzy. Many pushed each other to get away, while some slipped out the new hole in the fence.

Successful destruction of enemy supplies made me proud. I hung by the wall and waited a few breaths. They should be too busy chasing their food. I could sneak in and slice through supports next. It would be like carving wooden butter.

I slipped in. Ogres shouted in the distance as the first wave of escapee pigs caused alarm. Their noises amused me to the point that I’d started bobbing my head merrily.

Post Note: I attribute this bout of merriment to the deranged mentality brought on by my Hawthorn form. A more sensible person would have focused utterly on the task at hand and not spared thoughts for victory rewards by Callisto and Allegra.

The building which housed hundreds of pigs groaned as I sawed through a poor support beam. Straps were on the roof where they’d used long chains to tie slats into place. These ogres were terrible craftsmen.

“Warrrrrrrr!” a voice bellowed in the distance.

I pooled the rune spell for an explosive and flung it toward another support. Mechanically I reached for the black spell to pull a fresh net out of inventory.

“Warrrrr!” it screamed a second time, much closer.

The wall shuddered as my explosive spell detonated. A small hole formed in the metal shedding. Bits of pig and an ogre scattered around the inside of the barn. I chopped at the second support faster, working to get real damage done before the Ogre King showed up.

A piece of meat slammed into my face, dazing me briefly. My net holding hand fell as a sudden increase of weight threw off my balance. Entangled in my netting were chunks of dead animal. The bone alone weighed more than any shank of pork I’d ever held before.

A hulking figure with white skin and bulging veins stepped through the fresh hole. I eyed him. He eyed me. I cursed and threw the net. It flopped two feet away, too heavy to achieve any distance.

My stealth skills were clearly no longer in effect. The ogre stopped and stared at the dangling bits of pork and salivated. His back hunched further as he stepped closer.

He snarled. “Don’t touch the meat.”

I touched the meat by picking up another disconnected bit of pig and raised it. My eyebrow lifted in question. The fact that he showed no regard for his dismembered companion, whose body hung in the freshly blasted hole, made me wonder about his cognitive ability.

“The pork fat which rules. It is ours!” the ogre bellowed at me.

Spittle flew along with chunks of rotten flesh and other unidentified substances. I stood there calmly and lifted my knife and bone. His eyes followed the bone as nostrils flared.

“Give. It. To. Us!” the ogre shouted. He clearly intended to browbeat me into submission through the brute force of his speech.

I gave him the blade, right in his eyeball. It continued with ease until the nearly foot long blade reached the hilt. The ogre’s body convulsed. I let go of the handle and continued smiling.

It served him right for yelling at me like that. It had been rude, uncalled for, and disgusting.

I wondered, briefly, if the ogre had expected me to hand over the bone. That sounded stupid. These creatures were obviously unintelligent.

The wall near me shattered as a mass of muscle and rage made a fresh opening. A hand, larger than I was, sailed out of the flying debris and snatched the air around me. I ducked to get away but my arm got caught in the giant’s grasp.

A second hand locked around my legs. The latest enemy had effectively pinned my knife hand, ignored the blade’s sharpness entirely, then captured my legs, all in the time it took me to grab a breath.

I screamed in sudden pain and swung the pork shank at my attacker. The piece of meat didn’t make a dent. My captivity continued. A child slapping a body builder would have had more effect.

“You will be a good slave!” the new attacker shouted.

Dust settled. I lifted my head and fought to ignore the grinding sound of my bones. Pain would fade.

Post Note: I told myself this repeatedly. Pain would fade. I thought, therefore I still survived. This mantra almost keeps me sane in a world of madness.

“Submit to my empire!” he shouted. “Kill for me!”

A wave of nausea pulled at my stomach and turned my head to mush. He tightened his grip and my body felt like paste being squeezed out of a tube. I grunted and wondered how long my legs would take to heal.

“Submit!”

Liquid splattered upon my face. My ears flooded with fluid. The world continued to spin and my eardrums popped with a distorted echo. I dropped the piece of meat and used my hand to fumble for a spell. The book sat squished between my leg and the giant’s index finger.

For a moment, I worried that maybe the spell book had broken. That went away quickly. Flesh would give way before those reflective metal pages warped.

I thought I managed to pry apart the pages but couldn’t feel much anymore. The pressure grew and my mind simply clicked off the pain. My hand might be broken or fractured.

“Submit or die!”

I pooled the red. A faint sensation of burning told me the spell glommed onto my fingertips. My hand curled reflexively into the proper gesture and shoved the spell at the Ogre King’s face. It took a second to shake the rune loose. It attached to his face.

He laughed as lines etched themselves into his skin. He continued laughing as the star like points lit. He paused, leaned in, and large lips smiled as the spell went critical. At that moment, I understood why people might find it disturbing when I smiled at them. Seeing a face so close to human mocking me sent a chill down my spine that no amount of derangement could protect me from.

I’d never been this close to my own explosive. The world went boom and my body jerked away from the sheer force.

When we started this plan, my main goal had been to distract the Ogre King away from the others. They could sabotage his breeding and if I did an equal amount of damage then we’d buy our compound time.

I hadn’t expected the Ogre King to knock over his own building to get me. His compulsion spell also proved dangerous. Blowing myself up had been a less than brilliant plan. Submitting had been vulgar enough that any other option couldn’t be considered.

Post Note: I dislike compulsions. I abhor slavery. This might be considered a weakness to some, but there are three issues in this world that cause me to make foolish decisions. Insults to my mother. Stella being endangered. Slavers.

The force of the explosion had broken me free and separated us. Even his invulnerable body couldn’t stop an action, reaction effect. I used one arm to pull myself backward along the loft ledge I’d landed on.

Below me the Ogre King stood calmly. His giant nose turned up in my direction. He showed no sign of damage and even his pants were unmarred. He used no weapons and wore no armor. He didn’t need them.

The giant sloped forehead made his amused grin seem wider than ever.

I had to get away. Neither leg worked but that had happened before. Pigs squealed. They ran out the open gate and formed wide circles around the Ogre King. Fish would form the same circles to stay away from invading sharks.

“Killer slave tastes good!” he said and laughed.

The Ogre King had a long hunk of meat in his mouth that he chewed on like an oversized chicken wing. The brown thin sneakers were familiar. Slowly, it registered that he stood there, mocking me. He could do that because he hadn’t been eating a freshly torn pig shank. He had my detached leg in his hands.

Pain hit me, sudden and unexpected, and it wouldn’t turn off.