Threadbare - Complete Trilogy, page 43
Garon thought it over. “So we need to experiment, is what I hear. All right. I’ll be the test subject.”
“What? No, hey-” Mads burst out.
“No! Absolutely not! Zuula will-” Zuula said at the same time. The two spirits stopped, and Threadbare somehow got the distinct impression the soulstones were eyeing each other with hostility.
“Look,” Garon said, “I’d like to do something before I die, but if I can’t, I’ll cope and move on to the afterlife. In which case Mom, you get your wish. And Mads, your deal is for a body, so we can’t experiment on you in case it turns out it kills you permanently, because that would be wrong. I’m a mercenary, and when you make a bargain you keep it. We made a bargain with you, we keep it.”
“Zuula not like this.”
“I ain’t a fan neithah. Ah… be careful, ahright? Don’t try nathin’ without running it by us fahst.”
“So. Threadbare, you were made a teddy bear and you got the bear job. I don’t have any experience with that, so IF I went with a teddy bear or something else, I’d be coming in blind. Let’s find one of the soldier dolls, and make him look like a half-orc. Try as exact a match as possible to my old body, and see if that helps the transfer.”
“All right.” Threadbare pulled out his enchanting box, and looked through the vials. “I’ll make an empty soulstone, to catch you if you get dumped out or something.”
A suitable doll, a quick Clean and Press and some sewn-on tusks and leather armor later, and an axe-wielding knight doll was ready to go. The little bear also renewed Speak with Dead, just in case, and put up Assess Corpse and Eye for Detail. Then, thinking it over, he kicked on the enchanter’s Appraise as well. His friend’s soul was literally in his hands. He wanted to make sure he was careful with every step of the experiment.
“Missus Fluffbear?” He asked, wisdom kicking in. “Can your blessing affect luck?”
“Yes.”
“Put it on me, please.”
“Yorgum’s Blessing of Luck upon Threadbare!” She poked him, and his luck buffed up thirteen points. Couldn’t hurt, he figured.
Then it was the big moment. Threadbare laid Garon’s soulstone on the (newly-cleaned-and-pressed) doll, and emptied a vial of yellow reagent into his paw. “Toy Golem,” he said, and watched anxiously as the soulstone dissolved, sinking into the doll…
Your Toy Golem skill is now level 3!
…and sighed in relief as its status screen turned from “Simple plush toy” to “Doll Haunter (dormant)” It appeared to be the same message on all three screens, his eye for detail, his assess corpse, and his appraise.
“Garon?”
“Mfffawrmfmfmfmff.”
“Are you all right?”
“Myef.”
“Okay. Get ready… Golem Animus!”
Your Golem Animus skill is now level 3!
Congratulations! Through necromantic experimentation with spiritual desecration, you have unlocked the Spirit Medium class!
You cannot become a Spirit Medium at this time. Seek out your guild to change jobs!
“It worked!” Threadbare said, sagging in relief. “And oh my…”
Garon sat up. “It certainly did!” He said, then felt his mouth, which was sewn on and hadn’t moved. “Whoa. Did you hear that? Can you hear me?”
“It come through the speak with dead. You talking because of his spell,”Zuula said. “Not hear you with ears, probably.”
“I’ll need to make you a mouth,” Threadbare said, reaching for his tools. Ten minutes later, it was done.
“Okay, now that the transfer works, I need to check a few things,” Garon said. “This might be temporary. Status.” The littled doll shifted, cloth helm wiggling as he read over his status screen. “Oh. Hoo boy. Um… Mom, you’re gonna hate this.”
“What? Why?”
“I’ve only got my mercenary and half-orc and crafting job… and a toy golem one, which looks fun, but for each of them I’m only level one. And I have zero job slots open in adventuring and crafting jobs.”
“WHAT! Level one!” Zuula shrieked. “But stupid soulstone gave level t’ree!”
“Yyyeeeah, but the vessel doesn’t, I guess. Also my stats are way lower. Way way lower. Like my intelligence makes me feel like I’m thinking through a headache, lower. And… oh, shit. Guys?”
“Yes?” Threadbare said, examining it. And he froze, as he looked at one of the attributes low on Garon’s screen, just as Garon confirmed his fears.
“My luck’s at newbie half-orc levels.”
That was the point the evicted birds returned to reclaim their territory, swarming through the hole in the ceiling, and attacking everything in sight.
Starting with Garon.
Two frantic minutes of fighting later, the little group managed to drive them back once more. Garon’s golem body was intact, but banged and scratched up pretty well. Thankfully, toy golems got a shadow of golem resilience, enough to survive a furious flock.
The golems and spirits reconvened, as Pulsivar and Mopsy had a field day, and chased the birds outside, hungry for fresh meat.
“Good news is I got some stat boosts in there, and I’m a level two mercenary and toy golem and half-orc,” Garon said, picking his torn helmet plume off the floor. “Bad news is my luck’s still pretty horrible. Threadbare, I’m going to need you to destroy me. Or Fluffbear can do it, either’s fine. Maybe Fluffbear, she’s low enough she’ll get some experience from this probably.”
“What? Why?” Zuula asked.
“We need to find out if I can be caught in a soulstone if my vessel gets destroyed here. Otherwise death in this form is permanent for us. And if I survive, then I want to see if my stat boosts and level carry over, or if it wipes and I have to start fresh each time.”
“That… would be good to know,” Mads confessed.
“Don’t you start!” Zuula hissed.
“Just sayin’, we’re gahnna be monstahs eithah way. Might as well figure out if we’re immoatal monstahs, befoah we get inta a bad spaht.”
“Are you sure about this, Garon?”
The walls of the toy store groaned. Threadbare shot a glance around… the fight had damaged them. It would be terribly unlucky if they collapsed right now.
“I’m sure,” Garon said.
Another groan-
-and then Threadbare plucked him up and popped the knight’s head off, shredding the body for good measure. The groaning settled to a rolling creak.
And the empty soulstone glowed. “Whew! Level three all around, again. I was worried they’d be stuck at level one.”
“Now that we’ve sorted that out, we should probably continue this somewhere else,” Threadbare decided. “Everyone choose a body, and we’ll go somewhere safe.”
“I have just the spaht,” Madeline declared.
She lead them out of the toy store, and down into the basement of the inn. There, in the remnants of the wine cellar, were a collection of stone caskets.
Hers had racks of clothing next to it, most of it patched up and worn. And some of it very impractical.
“I don’t see how this would have fit you,” Threadbare said, holding up a slinky dress with a very low-cut bodice.
“Hey, not my fault I gaht stuck in a bahdy looks thirteen. I had hopes of learning ta shapeshift someday. Or maybe unlocking a rank up ta ‘Mistress of the Night.’ That job gets a sick hairdo and some huge gazongas.”
“What’s a gazonga?” Missus Fluffbear asked.
Garon sighed. “I’ll tell you lat-“
“Tits,” Zuula interrupted.
“Oh, okay.”
“Mom!”
“What?”
“They’re basically kids!”
“Kids know what tits are. Not last long as babies ot’erwise.”
“Shouldn’t thaht be ‘udderwise?” Madeline asked, slyly.
There was a pause, then Zuula’s laughter rang spectrally around the room.
“But it’s safe enough here, right?” Threadbare asked.
“Safe as anywheah. Still… maybe Fluffbear puts that blessing of Luck on Garon when he gets out, instead of you?”
“Wait,” Zuula said. “Do Zuula first.”
“What? Mom, why?”
“Zuula be midwife. She gots Newborn’s Mercy. Dat level one, should come t’roo. She mercy all of us. Between dat and… guh, ugh, stupid god’s blessing, we get t’rough maybe better.”
That seemed like a very good idea. So Threadbare hauled out the doll Zuula had chosen, and modified it. A plush doll of a woman in a dress got the skirt ripped into a loincloth and halter top, her cloth ‘skin’ dyed green, and big tusks. Her hair was styled into dreads, her black cloth eyes got replaced by glaring yellow ones, and at Zuula’s urging, he gave her big angry eyebrows. “Ready?”
“Ready!”
The animation went off without a hitch, and provided more skill ups… and a pleasant surprise.
You are now a level 3 Golemist!
INT+5 WILL +5
Not really a surprise, when he thought about it. That had happened the first time he made a toy golem. Then he’d used Beanarella to do things while she was around, and made more golems. So that was useful…
At any rate, he was glad for the level up. His sanity had been getting very low… golem creation and animation was expensive. But the level up refilled it, so that was good.
Little cloth Zuula sat up, and slapped a plush hand to her forehead. “Newborn’s Mercy! Wait, what? Newborn’s Mercy, she say!”
“You’re speaking through Speak with Dead!” Threadbare realized. “Uh-oh.”
“Yorgum’s Blessing of Luck on Zuula!” Missus Fluffbear shouted, and Threadbare felt his luck go back to normal. The plush cleric could only have one blessing active at a time, sadly. That was the rule on that spell.
Zuula sighed. “Will have to do,” she spoke, on the spirit realm.
“Let’s get you talking properly,” Threadbare decided. “Just in case.”
That took fifteen minutes to sort out, and about another hour when she was unsatisfied with the volume, and she made him dial it up so she could properly yell at people. He burned a lot of tailoring materials figuring it out, but ended up with a deep, resonant voicebox for her.
It wasn’t a bad idea. He decided to upgrade his own and Missus Fluffbear’s voices at the first opportunity. After his friends were settled and all in their new bodies, of course.
“Status.” She took a long look, then sagged. “Level one Shaman. Level one Midwife. Level one half-orc. Hm, at least both skills came t’roo.”
“They did on me, too.” Garon said, glumly. “Let me guess, you got darkspawn for the orc one?”
“Yes. How you know?”
“Because I knew you had it before. Me, when I came through I got Twisted Rage. And Man’s Drive to Achieve for the human one, which is what I had when I was alive. Which means that if you had those skills in life, and go into the same race, they carry over. Which means… yeah, you know what? I’m changing my choice. Threadbare, you can keep that other dolly around for a spare half-orc if you want, but I want to be something else.”
“What?” Zuula straightened up, yarn hair whipping around as she stared at her son’s Soulstone. “Why?”
“I don’t want to be a half-orc anymore.”
“But… you was awesome half-orc!” Zuula said, waving her arms. “Why you give that up?”
“Oh geeze… ah… look, Mom, it’s not you, or half-orcs, it’s the rage. I can’t handle the rage.”
“But you build battle plan around it!”
“Yeah, and you know what? After I got to try it out in an actual fight, it sucks! Everything goes red and you’re just killing, and killing, and hurting until it goes away. And it’s not just that, it’s what it does to your temper, outside of it!” Garon’s voice raised, got shriller as he started speaking faster. Threadbare and Fluffbear glanced at each other, feeling not very comfortable at where this was going.
“But it you heritage!” Zuula wailed. “How ancestors know you if you not be half-orc! How dey guide you!”
“Mom, look, I respect your religion, but no. This is the only chance I have to ditch the rage. All my life I’ve had to take abuse and struggle to keep calm, because I knew I’d start killing like a maniac if I didn’t. All. My. Life. Now that I’m dead? It’s not gonna be all my death.”
Zuula was still for a long minute.
“Hey,” Madeline said, sounding like she wanted to be anywhere but there, “Garon, you still got yoah half-orc levels raht now, raht?”
“Three of’em,” Garon said from his Soulstone.
“So it’s only temporahry, then. Look at it this way, if he dies in the gahlem bahdy he becomes a half-orc again. So if he kicks it permanent-lahk, he’ll go to his ancestahs as a half-orc.”
Zuula considered it. Then she heaved a great sigh. “You right. Garon, Zuula sorry. You do what you want, clever boy. It be okay.”
“Thanks Mom. Thanks Mads.”
The teddy bears relaxed. This was better. It was hard when friends argued.
“Hokay,” Zuula said, looking around the cellar, picking up a bottle, and breaking it. Clutching the glass shank, she toddled toward the stairs. “You do the thing, Dreadbear. Zuula gonna go grind some levels.”
“I wouldn’t,” Missus Fluffbear said. “Pulsivar and Mopsy are still out there and they don’t know you. You might get pounced and shredded just because.” The little bear earned herself a wisdom point with that one.
Zuula sighed. “Fine. Fine, whatever.” Then the little half-orc frowned. “Why Zuula not think of that? She wise too!” Zuula slapped her forehead. “Zuula forget. Why Zuula forget? Oh. Oh wait. Status. That why Zuula forget. Man, dese stats be nurphed.”
“What’s a nurphed?” Madeline asked.
“Nurph be god of weakness and losers.”
“Actually he’s the god of Honor and Fair Play, Mom.”
“Did Zuula stutter? Same t’ing anyway.” The little doll hopped clambered up on a casket. “Suckage. Dat a lot of wisdom gon’ have to be grinded again.”
“Speaking of that,” Garon said, “I want to go next.”
“All right, but if you don’t want a half-orc body, what do you want?” Threadbare asked.
Garon told them.
For a second, there was stunned silence in the basement. Then Mads whistled. “You ain’t afraid ta go big, Gar.”
“Zuula forgive you,” his Mom decided. “Not half-orc, but… eh, close second. She tink she see one in de toy store. Let’s go get it.”
Twenty minutes and one salvaged toy later, Garon stirred, and opened plush eyes as the world came into focus. Again.
He was immediately met by a prompt.
You have unlocked the High Dragon Hatchling job!
Would you like to become a High Dragon Hatchling at this time?
“Hells yes!” Garon whooped.
And then he was a dragon.
“Newborn’s Mercy!” Shouted Zuula.
“Yorgum’s Blessing of luck upon Garon!” Fluffbear chorused, happy at the skill ups she was getting for this one. Each one upped the cost a bit, but increased the effectiveness of the buff. Still, she was getting a bit loopy from the sanity cost.
Threadbare swiftly moved in and fixed him up with a mouth.
“Oh boy… this feels…” Garon twisted his stuffed head on his long neck, and opened and shut a mouth full of newly-hardened cloth teeth. “This feels GOOD.” He stretched his wings, feeling the power of his new frame. “Status.”
He was silent for a long minute.
“Is everything all right?” Asked Threadbare.
“You’re looking at my stats, right? With that eye for detail thing?”
“And other things, yes.”
“Tell me you’re seeing that eighty-three in strength.”
Zuula jumped up. “Whaaat? Zuula be stuck wit’ piddly forty-seven!”
“I see it,” Threadbare said. “It looks like some of your numbers are pretty high. Except for dexterity.”
“Yeah… I mean, the strength and con aren’t up to my old stats from when I was living, but it’s close, it’s close. And the rest is… yeah, I can live with this.” The three-foot-long green plush dragon strutted around the room, stretching and testing its legs and muscles. “Ooh, seven skills…. Two of which look like trouble. I get ‘No Thumbs’ and ‘Limited Equipment.’ Let me… Yeah, yeah, they suck. No weapons for me.” The dragon grinned. “But I’m a mercenary, so whatever! Fighting is fighting. And with a basic armor rating this high, I should be fine. For now, anyway.”
“What are the othah skills?” Mads asked.
“Let’s see… Scaly Wings, Dragonseye, Chomp, Draconic Tongue, and Burninate. Oooh! I gotta try this. Threadbare, can you up the volume on my mouth? Something more impressive?”
“I’ll see what I can do. You’re bigger so I can put in a bigger air bladder.”
It used up most of his remaining leather, but finally he got one installed that Garon was happy with.
“Yes,” the little dragon said, in a voice that had been carefully crafted to sound like a proper voice for yelling at thieving halfens and arrogant dwarves. “Yes, this’ll do. Okay, stand back. Burninate!”
This was actually a pretty poor decision, as it turned out.
Burninate, which dragons usually roar in the draconic language so as to avoid mockery by younger races, is a costly and exhausting skill. It also calls up the fire directly from the dragon’s mouth.
And at the time, the little plush toy golem who’d activated it had absolutely no resistance to fire.
Fortunately, with much credit owed to Yorgum’s blessing and the quickness of his colleagues, they managed to get him put out before he was destroyed. A few mends, plus Zuula’s test of shamanic Slow Regeneration (which worked perfectly), put him to rights.
“So unclever!” Zuula stood over the chastened dragon, shaking her plush finger at it. “What you t’ink happen! Showing off! Foolish boy! You not too big Zuula can’t spank you!”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry Mom.”
“Yeah, you know, ya burned up about half my dresses theah too, kiddo. Not too happy about that,” Mads chipped in.
