《Un-Familiar Sidequest 1: The Squad (A LitRPG isekai fantasy adventure)》7- A Lot To Unpack There
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The moment the three adventurers appeared from inside the gate, all five Rangers (and Dane) halted. They were still somewhere around a hundred feet out, but the one guy was clearly another dragonite. Dane immediately wondered if he had chosen a type of breath weapon, or opted to keep looking for a more badass choice, and instead kept the higher resistances. The other two were a dwarf and a nellwynian. The little guy already had a bow drawn. All three were on horseback.
“They’ve got archers on the towers,” Guzman commented.
“Effective range on these bows?” the LT asked.
Dane swallowed the fury inside him for these people, and said, “These short bows have a short range of 80 and a long range of 320. Feet, sir.”
“The crossbows?” he asked.
“Short range a hundred, long range four hundred.”
Behind him, Niederhauer passed the explosive arrow card to Rivera, who had the crossbow.
Dane concentrated on the leader, who was level 9. They’d only just reached level 3, and barely.
“His name is Darryl,” Dane said.
“You got a direct line to heaven, Just Dane?” Niederhauer asked.
“Inspect skill, Just Niederhauer,” he shot back, and earned a couple of chuckles from Pugh. “You might consider using it.”
“Whatever, Pogue.”
“The towers will give them an increased range, or a bonus to hit,” Dane went on. “Specialist Guzman–”
“Specialist Guzman is the sapper,” LT said.
“But–” he locked eyes with Guzman, who was already shaking her head. He stomped away in frustration, crouched a little ways away, and opened up his familiar’s case. He had the bird ready before the trio of warriors came within shouting distance. If he had to, he could probably use that improvised weapon ability to have the mechanical eagle get the quivers from the tower archers and maybe use them as weapons before his people ended up as porcupines with the quills pointed the wrong way.
“Ho there, adventurers!” Darryl said.
“You Darryl?” LT shouted back.
Darryl the dragonite shuckled. “I see my fame precedes me! I must ask your name and business.”
“We’re headed to that portal.” It could barely be seen peeking up over the trees. “Otherwise our business is not of your concern.”
The tiny ranger on the pony gave Darryl a sharp look, but Darryl held up a hand. “And your names?”
The lieutenant rattled off their names.
“Nice bird you got there,” the nellwynian called.
“Thanks, I suppose.”
“Opinionated?”
“What?” Dane asked.
“The bird. It got any funny ideas?” the nellwynian asked.
“Patrick!” Darryl warned.
Several confused moments of shared glances passed between the Rangers and Dane. What was this little archer guy on about? Besides being an awfully specific question, it seemed like a challenge, like there was a right answer. Finally, Dane guessed, “No?”
“Be sure you keep it that way,” the little guy warned in a confusing voice: a mix of a twelve year old and a fifty year old drunkard.
“Look,” Darryl said. “We had a bit of an issue with the last traveler through here.”
“Yeah, if all you want to help me get my inventory back,” Patrick started. “We can–”
“For the last time!” Darryl shouted. “We’re not heading back into that swamp after some level twelve monsters, okay? It’s not happening. I don’t know what kind of dildos or pictures of your mom you lost, but we’re not getting them back.”
“I bet we could help,” Niederhauer said.
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Darryl threw back his head and laughed a full on belly laugh. “Level… what level are you guys? Three? Pffft. No chance. You’d be gator food before you got a hit in.”
“The girl was level four,” the dwarf said. “Tore that gator apart, and she was alone.”
“While we kept its attention,” Darryl replied. “And it took her basically forever.”
“Look, we do need the xp, but we need to be moving forward,” Daniels said at last. “If we’re done here–”
“Not done,” Darryl said.
Niederhauer had his bow up and pointed at the holy knight faster than the three could react. “You do NOT speak to the LT like that, Pogue.” And then the realization came over him. “Ah fu–”
“Anyway,” Daniels said.
The little guy had his bow up a second later, and the dwarf produced a large golem in the shape of a shield, with a shield for a face and two shields for arms. It came trotting up to Darryl’s side.
“Wait, you guys military? Like Special Forces Navy Seals?”
“Just like that,” Sergeant Rivera answered.
“What’s your town got in the way of arrows and crossbow bolts?” Daniels asked.
Darryl couldn’t quite get over the idea that they were actually military, and a lot of dark looks got through Niederhauer’s way. Finally, Dane thought.
“You’ll need to help us with our crocagator infestation if you have any intention of bedding down for the night at the inn,” Darryl commanded.
“We can handle that,” Daniels said.
Darryl filled in Dane and Guzman while they went. The crocadillos had bazillions of hp but were generally not so dangerous so long as you kept your distance. Just the thing the team needed to convince them to start using their cards and melee weapons in concert.
“Bob here panicked and didn’t put up his shield golem before he went in with the axe,” Darryl said, earning him a nasty look from the dwarf. “We won’t be making that mistake twice.”
“And you? You’re a tank too, right?”
“Less than a full tank, I have a lot of buffs and a bit of healing, but I’m best against undead. Anyway I’ll put the aura on, and your guys look like they’re all ready to rain arrows down.”
Dane sighed.
They found the crocadillos all lounging in the water. It was difficult to make them out in the fading light of day, until the little guy, Patrick, plunked an arrow down in the forehead, and suddenly the swamp was a thrashing, crazy mess. Soon enough that died down.
“We’re getting damage reduction from the natural armor,” Patrick explained. “It’s going to be worse for you guys, since you’re only three.”
“And we can’t draw them out one at a time,” Darryl added.
“Lieutenant,” Dane said.
“What’s that, Just Dane?”
“We have the venom gland off that cottonmouth, correct?”
***
Five minutes later, Dane’s mechanical eagle struggled to remain aloft. In its talons, Darryl’s longsword both glowed and dripped with a sickly green substance. It flapped hard, up twenty feet over toward the nearest crocadillo.
“You sure this is gonna work?” Darryl asked. “I need that sword. It’s practically the only magic item I got.”
“You’ve got a defense reduction buff applied, you’ve got the holy attack on there, and we have dire cottonmouth venom applied.”
“And a shield golem at the ready,” Darryl added cheerfully.
Bob swore under his breath.
The blade was pointed straight down, and Dane commanded the familiar to climb just a bit more. They needed enough altitude for gravity to do its part in accelerating the sword.
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“You remember the plan?” he asked Daniels.
“Concentrate on your part,” the lieutenant replied.
The nine of them held a collective breath, for the eagle to climb just a bit higher. It flapped hard, then released the sword. For a long moment, the glowing sword seemed to hang in the air, before it plummeted down and slammed into the crocadillo’s head.
Your companion has dealt 12 damage, along with 14 holy damage, and infected the crocadillo with dire cottonmouth venom.
A lot to unpack there.
“Only 26 damage on the sword,” Dane called. Now the sword was embedded in the croc’s head like a brand new rendition of the Arthurian legend.
As for the croc, it went berserk. First it thrashed back and forth, mouth wide open, and made the strangest sound: something like the whole factory shutting down because of a wrench in the works. It then raced up onto dry ground and about halfway to where the golem stood with its shield hands and its shield face. Its mouth remained wide open, and its armadillo hackles were fully raised.
Dane had his hand up in the classic ‘stop’ signal, prompting both Niederhauer and Pugh to wonder in loud whispers how Just Dane had managed to take control of this op.
“Bob?” Dane asked. “Draw it in, please.”
The shield golem lumbered forward a few steps, and clapped its shield hands together in loud challenge, prompting another bellow from the creature. The sword had stopped glowing, but Dane was now receiving reports that the venom was working.
“Rivera?” he asked, hand still raised.
Rivera engaged a borrowed copy of Dane’s Silent Step card, and the golemite tip-toed silently over to the croc, as close as he dared come to the edge of the water, and what they hoped was out of the croc’s line of sight.
It didn’t work. The croc turned and hissed at Rivera, who went stock still.
“Bob!” Dane called, and the shield golem rushed over to do the job Rivera had been intended for. For a big blob of metal with stumpy little legs and hardly any arms to speak of, it made its way to the croc’s position in a flash, and wrapped its pair of shields around the croc’s upper jaw, holding it open.
Dane’s hand dropped, and a hail of arrows followed. Most were plain old pointy metal bits, but one exploded in the crocadillo’s mouth. Patrick produced more arrows than any of them, turning the croc’s mouth into a nightmare, like a miniature pit trap full of those sharpened bamboo sticks. It began shuffling backwards and turning to get back to the water, only to have Rivera pounce on it. A few moments later Darryl was there too, ripping his sword free and plunging it down again. And then again, and again. As for the Rangers, they passed the exploding arrow card between them, back and forth, in between cranking the crossbow back to ready fire position.
Five minutes later, nine exhausted adventurers received word that the crocadillo had finally been defeated. Rivera and Darryl rushed up away from the water, keenly aware of what had happened last time with Bob and Patrick. Rivera followed this by dragging the several ton creature up to the relative safety of their position, so they could begin the slow, arduous process of cutting their usable arrows and bolts free… and looting the thing. Unfortunately, most of them had been exploded by Niederhauer’s favorite card. They’d blasted through almost all their ammunition.
“My inventory stuff isn’t there!” Patrick called.
Darryl heaved up a big, relieved sigh. “All right all right,” he said, in a poor McConaughey impression. “Only four more to go.”
Dane and the others just stared at him.
***
Level 12 crocadillos paid out 700 xp each and nearly 400 silver. They’d had the ammunition, the strategy and the gumption to kill three of the remaining four. It boosted all the Rangers (plus Dane) to level 4, which was a definite blessing.
Divided nine ways, the roughly 1200 silver almost didn’t seem worth it… but of course the money wasn’t going nine ways. Darryl’s boys were taking a third, and the Lieutenant Daniels had final say over what happened with the rest. That say, of course, was to buy up every arrow and bolt available in Darryl’s town.
“And some extra cash for some beers,” Pugh suggested.
“We need lodgings and food, yes,” Daniels said.
“Plus… beeeeeerrrrs?”
“We can afford a couple of rounds.”
A cry went up, consisting solely of Niederhauer and Pugh. They turned confused looks back to Guzman and Rivera, but the golemite remained expressionless.
Dane was beat. He hadn’t traveled any legitimate distance by foot in years. Nor had he ever had his ass handed to him by a weirdo with soft orange hair. It was a day to rival the entirety of the rest of his life. Blech.
The village seemed quaint enough, until he started seeing the faces of the townsfolk. He had to remind himself that these were citizens of the United States, most likely, from just shy of the border. He imagined he could hear the roar of Niagara Falls behind the crickets chirping, but of course they were miles south of Niagara City… or whatever had become of it once the change swept over it. Weren’t they?
“Is that… the falls?” he asked.
Bob sidled up next to him. “That’s right. We’re in the outskirts of Niagara City right now. It’s gone. There’s nothing left of it.”
“What about all the people?”
“We got here later. Had to sneak in by boat. Anyway most of the people were gone by then. These ones you’ll meet, they all just… stuck around. They changed into cat people and dwarves and dragonites and such, but they didn’t want to give up their stuff.”
“Huh.”
“Hey, thanks for the stuff back.”
“Sure thing,” Dane said.
“You’re kinda wasted on these guys,” Bob said.
“Gnomish rule,” Dane said, but his heart wasn’t in it.
“You could stick around, you know? Protect the town, enjoy the women, level up, get drunk. Do the whole thing over again in the morning. It’s a good life.”
Not if all these people had been American citizens until three months ago, with their husbands right there beside them. He’d seen the looks the menfolk of this town were giving them. No thanks.
Dane’s group separated from the three ‘town protectors’ and secured rooms. Dane ended up rooming with Guzman, which was Niederhauer and Pugh’s idea of a joke, but honestly he was relieved. Daniels got his own room, while Pugh and Niederhauer took the last. Rivera didn’t need to sleep, given his new metal self, nor did he need to eat.
Dane settled in to eat, and the innkeeper paused at his table. “You with those other three? Darryl the mighty savior of all the people?”
The contempt in the man’s voice made Dane cringe inside. “We worked together, but no… my people are headed to the portal.”
A grunt was all he got in return.
Dane surveyed the tavern’s common room, and found it mostly packed with hunched over, angry fellows with hairy forearms. Some were dwarves, some fae, a pair of felinians, a couple of gnomish and one nellwynian, but many of them were humans. All were eating and drinking, but few were talking. All of them, bar none, were giving him the stink eye.
He leaned over to the nearest table, consisting of two humans and another gnomish. “We’re not with Darryl. We’ll be out with the dawn.”
The three of them shared a look. The bigger of the two humans, with a neatly clipped brown goatee, leaned in close, and introduced himself as Willard Granger. And Dane learned all about what they’d been doing to the people of this town for the last three months.
After roughly ninety minutes of cringing and making apologies for stuff he hadn’t done, he went and had a word with the LT.
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