Rule 13

Squish Squishables & Use Sticks

Statement: I’d heard of this thing called LARPing back in high school. They were kids that dressed up like vampires—or, something—and shouted, “I cast fireball” at each other in the dark corner of a park. Maybe they threw dice at each other. What I was doing by being Mister Underwood, or Hawthorn, wasn’t that different. The only redeeming feature was the fact that I actually had abilities in this new world, and nearly everyone else had died. There’s no reason to be embarrassed if everyone who might care is dead.

Smaller spiders continually attempted to bite me. They failed. The sticky feeling of dead bodies refused to fade even after they’d become experience orbs. It aggravated me.

“We’re going the wrong way,” Leon complained.

“And?” That question made me happy. I decided I’d use that word frequently with this form. With one question, I implied the other person was stupid, avoided long winded phrasing to simple thoughts, and reminded them to get to the point.

The woods were dark. Not because of a lack of sunlight. Morning had poked over the horizon shortly after my fight with the trio. Thick webbing lined the trees. This would have been the stuff of nightmares in our old world. Now, it was just a jaunty trip through the park, where any of the other three might die in minutes.

Luckily, they had Allegra. She could cure poison as easily as any other defect. Her mana wouldn’t last forever though.

I used a stick to poke the webs. The others stayed behind in a huddled mass. A very effective and highly experienced, but still huddled mass. I almost envied Leon, having the two women pressed to him. He acted oblivious in his plate armor, and shield lifted.

These webs were tiny and broke easily. I couldn’t see how anyone might make pants out of them. I wondered if this had been a trap by the demon. He might have prompted me to explore this part of the park to be devoured by some intelligent spider person.

The thought made me sour. I’d seen artwork featuring half-naked females attached to bulbous spider bodies with black widow markings, that is, the giant red hourglass which alluded to unspeakable levels of poison.

Mister Underwood, me as a hulking brute with apparently tough skin and stupid levels of strength, didn’t care.

“Are there bigger ones?” I asked.

No one answered. I turned, expecting to find a horde of pony-sized spiders and my companions trussed in webs. They were fine, just distracted. Allegra looked green. Greener. Her robes were already an off-color of brackish yellow which blended in with Leon’s aura. Callisto stood in the back and tugged her hair.

I tried again, with a bit more emphasis. “Are. There. Larger. Arachnids?”

“Why?” Callisto shouted from the back. She jumped, as though her own voice had startled her.

“Bigger spiders, better webs,” I said.

I had no firm proof of that. The closest logic I had to back it was our game-like world. Harder monsters rewarded more orbs. Harder spiders should give more webs. It simply made sense. They’d have thicker webbing too, or they would probably be unable to stand on the strands. I followed that logic further and realized bigger spiders would probably need sturdier trees. Or they might be ground based.

Post Note: I ran through a whole host of questions as well. What did spiders eat? Did they simply spawn when no one was looking (as the ogres and mini-orcs seemed capable of doing)? If this place were a dungeon, what would the boss creature be? Were there strange one off creatures in here, such as the hydra, which terrorized main street at night?

Branches behind me cracked. The webbing in my hand wiggled. A few spiders, which I’d been ignoring due to their ineffective biting, dropped off me and scurried away. Allegra’s arm lifted and her eyes fluttered. Her lips mouthed a word that never came out.

“There’s one,” Leon said for her.

I slowly turned back around. A row of jeweled eyes glittered in front of me. Below them were two fangs that dripped with unidentified goo. Behind that hovered a large unseemly abdomen covered in purple and green fuzz. It chittered.

I did what any sensible ogre with a stick full of webbing would do, I bopped him on the skull. He, and I’m guessing on the gender, did not seem pleased by the aggressive move. Its mandibles wiggled and a clicking noise like a gas stove echoed through the forest. Behind me, one of the party members hit the ground in a rush.

It screamed like an angry baby gargling venom. My face scrunched as I tried to understand how spiders could make noise at all. It lunged.

Post Note: Clearly, not sensible. If I’d been Hawthorn, I would have used an explosive rune first and stabbed second.

Large teeth jabbed. They sank in. Flesh burned. I’d heal. My free hand reached for one of the creature’s legs. I squeezed.

It reared back, pulling those nasty jaws out of my chest. With the other hand, I punched the creature before it could escape. My shoulder muscles strained and the monster’s body slammed sideways, tearing limb from cephalothorax.

Post Note: That’s the middle part. These were closer to spiders than tarantulas. Technically spiders are made of all sorts of fancy named bits. In between those ugly eyes and their fat bobbing abdomen, is a framework that all the legs are attached to (prosoma). Muscles twist under the belly letting them operate eight limbs. It’s really quite amazing when people aren’t screaming.

“Kill it!” Callisto shouted. Her voice lifted to a shriek. “Kill it with fire!”

“No firah,” Allegra mumbled from the floor. Her accent slurred worse than normal.

“Oh dear,” I responded.

It survived my punch. The creature’s legs were trashed. My chest still ached as the world blurred. A slice of the rising sun burned in my eyes, making me lose track of the spider.

I needed a bigger stick. That much made sense. There were crashing sounds and the pink haze shifted in intensity. My chest felt like a fire had crawled into it and turned everything to char. Pressure grabbed my arm. I lashed with my other hand and felt something fuzzy squish. Warmth splashed across my face and side.

“Everyone prone to be squished promptly stand aside!” In my head that had been “get out of the way if you don’t want to get hit.” That was the best warning I could give. As always, the disconnect between my inner voice and Mister Underwood’s deep rumbling tones made me pause.

I punched another creature. Something ventured nearby. A hand fumbled blindly into the sweatpants’ pocket for my book but it was too awkward. Those fingers were getting harder to feel. My ears were flushed by a rushing river sound. Tin echoed making me dizzy. The fiery sensation crawled up toward neck muscles.

“This is nothing. I will restore myself and visit doom upon your eight legged brethren!”

Something else squished. The wet sound preceded a soft cry of dying enemies. Partially blind, I found a bigger stick to pummel anything moving. Not that I could tell what might be moving. For a handful of pain wracked breaths I swung my stick at creatures making noise.

“I hope you’re alive out there!”

I couldn’t hear any response. Crickets could have chirped wildly in my ears and they’d still be quieter than blood pounding.

The first sound to make it through was branches cracking. I swung and heard another spider’s dying scream. A wild grin pulled at my cheeks. The stick I hefted felt rather sizable. Not a simple branch or a hulking tree, but it had a comfortable weight to it.

“This is delightful!” I shouted and swung again. My body heaved to one side under the sudden shift. Something heavy barred my way. I stepped back and waited for healing to clear my blurry vision.

Time passed. There were no more sounds and I couldn’t feel the burning. My vision slowly returned to normal. I held the large weapon upright the entire time. My feet wove and pounded the earth until the ground had been stomped flat. I couldn’t feel the cold but the former lumps of dirt were gone.

Pieces of large spiders littered the landscape. Some collapsed into yellow orbs. Smaller spiders scurried among the larger bodies, taking bites of their deceased companions. Trees were splintered. Bushes mangled.

I had a large chunk of young wood in my hands. Guts strewn up and down its length, painting it a purple reddish color.

“That is disturbing,” I mumbled and dropped the stick.

Away from the carnage, Leon knelt behind his shield. His glowing aura faded to a mere soft glow. The women were behind him with Callisto holding an unconscious Allegra. The blonde’s head in Callisto’s lap would have spawned all manner of lewd thoughts at any other time.

Right now, I did another circle, huffing, and staring at the dismembered corpses. They flickered and became lights. Smaller spiders, those that had been feasting on their dead relatives, scurried away once their meal disappeared.

“How many was that?” My chest felt tight and body still woozy. Both legs ached.

“A lot,” Leon said.

“Can you do that again?” Callisto shouted. “Only… let Allegra help you. If she assists we can get some of the orbs and money. We need to catch up to your strength.”

“Oh?”

“Levels. We’re levels behind you,” Leon muttered. He stood on shaky limbs and used the shield as a prop.

I huffed and stomped the stick I’d been using as a weapon. It cracked under the pressure. Being a new person also gave me room to ask about stupid concepts that I hadn’t been willing to talk about while being Hawthorn.

“Odd. I’ve never found this world to have anything resembling levels,” I said.

Callisto stood. Her swords sheathed and slid to one side. Allegra lay on the ground, mumbling. She would be cold soon.

My ignorant coworker-with-benefits pointed at the plate wearing fool in front of her. “That’s just Leon. He sees orbs as levels. He sees everything like characters from a game. Allie has her pencil markings. We all see it a bit different.”

“And yourself?”

“None of your business.”

“Chess pieces. She sees us all as chess pieces,” Leon said while stepping away from the black-haired woman.

I smiled. That fit perfectly with my understanding of Callisto. It also helped clear up a lot of the confusion I’d had over this situation. We were game characters to Leon. It was probably a lie he told himself to hold onto sanity in a mad world. Allegra paid more attention to her art than reality. That might be her shield.

And Callisto kept herself coldly separated. She cared for the number of pieces on the board. During our first dungeon together, she’d asked someone to buy a healing potion, but not for herself. She’d wanted the healing item to help those farming the lands.

Post Note: During this, I had a few flashes of introspection. They’re hard to summarize in simple terms. If they saw us as art, game pieces, or characters with levels and other nonsense, what did that say of my own views? That they were to be used toward my own goals. That they weren’t to be trusted.

“Ah. You’re seeing power through an artifact of some sort.” I nodded. The answer came from my time as Hawthorn, but it would help Mister Underwood seem smarter if I made the leap. Plus Leon sharing Callisto’s views answered a long-standing question I’d had. Though it brought up another conundrum; they felt okay sharing this information with a stranger but had never once thought to explain to Hawthorn.

There were a lot of possibilities and asking too many questions would raise their suspicion of me. Or in reverse, if they asked me too many questions, I would become suspicious of them.

Questions to figure out:

Why did they share any knowledge with me? They clearly had issues with Mayor Kent, why? Had Callisto been faking pleasure during sex?

The last one was more about my ego than an actual key to surviving the world.

“What about you? Does being an ogre mess with you?” Callisto asked.

It was time for another vague response based on truth. “I’m not a normal ogre. Not by any measure. As you may gather, being more refined than the others you have likely encountered, does come with drawbacks.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Callisto said.

I frowned. Allegra started to stir but her movements were sluggish. Leon paced the area checking webbing for smaller spiders. He squished a few while we talked. Callisto guarded the blonde.

“It is what it is. I only have—” My words stuttered. I’d been doing so well in avoiding lies but almost trapped myself in one. “My goals include gathering webs and helping your trio get the weapon you seek. After that we shall part ways.”

Leon turned to Callisto. She shook her head at whatever expression he wore. I took a deep breath and gathered spider webs. Without focusing on “Mister Underwood’s” mission they might suspect me of something more sinister. Callisto could expect me to be a plant by the Ogre King.

The possibilities were endless and I told myself there were three ways through this mess. One would be to simply walk away. That left behind Stella and was therefore unacceptable. Two was to keep playing the game and pretend to be another person. If we could survive this adventure, then we’d part ways and they’d be none the wiser.

Or I could ruin all my fun by revealing the link between me and Hawthorn, which would also reveal the link between me and Lance. Then we’d be bogged down by social drama and that would be annoying.

The garbage can Arson had provided us, from some magical storage space on his cart, was a third of the way full.

“Well. Let us return to the hunt. There are more squishables in need of squishing. Once the can is full of clean silk, we can go on to this barrier of yours,” I said. I was still vague on the barrier. On a good day, my head was full of a dozen suspicions, vague plans, and attempts at deciphering what I’d been living through. Leaving little room to care about minor details like the wall and how I’d best punch it.

The others got to cleaning. With the spiders dead, only webbing and plant life remained. Callisto did most of the work while Leon stood guard of Allegra. She knelt in front of a piece of paper and studied the pencil etchings. Every few seconds they would shift to something new but impossible to distinguish without standing over her shoulder.

We moved to another area. The moment we touched a web more spiders burst forth.

I quickly smacked two small ones and brought my fist down on top of a larger spider’s head. It reeled under the blow. Callisto sneaked in behind and sliced down with a sword. More critters filled the gap.

“There’s too many,” Callisto shouted.

“Fifteen!” Allegra responded.

I spun to the side but felt sluggish. My other forms moved with more grace and speed. With every attack the strengths and weaknesses between my forms became more obvious.

My fists joined together and I hammered a pony-sized spider. Its head popped off and body slid forward. More lumbered in behind the dying one. Bigger spiders moved slower than the smaller ones. The tiny arachnids were hungry savages with no brains. In that way, they were stupider than the mini-orcs.

In a normal dungeon these three would never have pulled so many monsters. Callisto was careful about walking into large packs. It helped that I could scout. They must be off their game with me—or, Hawthorn—dead.

“Weren’t you here before?” I demanded.

“We took a different road,” Callisto responded. She flickered past me in a rush and I heard a monster cry out. “You led us this way! I assumed you knew where you were going.”

I didn’t. They had let me lead the way. That made us all idiots in my book. Of course, I’d believed myself to be capable of sneaking in this form. Ogres were not made for stealth.

“This is for your stupid webbing!” she shouted.

Two more spiders died. Leon thrust his sledge hammer into the air and light flashed. A dozen smaller critters I hadn’t even seen fell out of the trees around us. My feet pounded the ground and I squished as many as possible while they were stunned. Their bodies popped into a grimy paste on my toes.

I stopped my rampage briefly and mourned the foulness of these pants. I already needed something cleaner. It wasn’t simply dead monsters, they turned into orbs. But their guts occasionally lingered. That feeling of grossness never really went away, and my stomps caused the soft earth to squish like mud.

“Most foul. Most incredibly foul. How I detest this wilderness. Give me the city,” I muttered to myself while fighting monsters.

My body healed the superficial wounds quickly enough. The other three had their own troubles. Allegra continued to provide support from the rear. Some of the orbs would fly toward her satchel while others floated to Leon’s helmet or Callisto’s belt. Their artifacts were different from mine.

Post Note: No one questioned why most of the orbs disappeared into my pants. Not into the pants, but inside. The spell book banged against my groin but that was easy enough to ignore. It was like having an extremely bulky cell phone in my pocket, while fighting nightmare fuel. There were larger concerns than an occasional pinch of flesh.

We came upon a thick bundle of webbing. I sniffed and couldn’t smell anything different about this mob. Strings flowed up. It reminded me of kites in the city park, when I’d been a much younger boy, before Mom had passed to cancer.

“What are these?” I pointed to the hundred floating strings.

“Those are also spiders.”

“Ah.” I paused and blinked. My feelings were mixed on what I was seeing. Spiders hovered above us. They were extremely small and their legs stretched wide. “They can fly. That seems remarkably unfair.”

I grabbed the string-sized bits of webbing and snapped them. A hundred tiny spiders crawled out of the thicker pocket I’d been staring at. They came in waves, each bigger than the last as the bulge of webbing deflated. My mouth puckered. They had egg sacs.

“Burn it with fire!” Callisto shouted.

These spiders were even smaller than the ones who normally attacked me. I felt disgusted. Inside the sac were the webbed remains of a body. It might have been human. It could have been an elf or some other poor creature. My stomach churned. The smell hit me harder than the hydra’s lair with the carcasses of a dozen dead people. Hawthorn hadn’t cared, but this form was absolutely repulsed by the scent.

“It’s coming,” Allegra whispered. She was close enough for me to hear.

Leon turned to face the direction our paper prone medic pointed.

I held still and waited for everyone to lose track of me. Stealth came as second nature when being Lance and Hawthorn. I’d nearly reached a point where I could tell when monsters noticed me or didn’t. Normally they only saw me when creatures were being murdered.

My efforts failed. A huge spider, bigger than any we’d fought so far, charged from the bushes, clicking and crying like a confused baby. It ignored Leon and ran straight for me.

That normally didn’t happen. Most of the time I’d walk by monsters and they’d ignore me.

This one had teeth easily twice the size of the one that had sent me into a rage. Its legs appeared reflective as if they’d been coated by metal plating. All of its eyes glowed red and their image lingered even when I blinked and braced for impact.

It’d seen me. Crows could, birds of any sort, but never before had a bug noticed me without outside assistance. Then I realized, the tradeoff for all this size and power was an utter lack of stealth abilities.

“Ah. Fecal matter,” I said, as the biggest spider I’d ever laid eyes on reared on hind legs right above my head.