Brad the Impaler: A LitRPG Adventure, page 1
BRAD THE IMPALER
©2024 PAUL SATING
This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the authors.
Aethon Books supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact editor@aethonbooks.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
Aethon Books
www.aethonbooks.com
Print and eBook formatting by Steve Beaulieu. Artwork provided by J Caleb Design.
Published by Aethon Books LLC.
Aethon Books is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Contents
Also in Series
Free Fantasy from Paul Sating!
1. What it’s Like When Worlds Collide
2. Man in the Box?
3. Give the Dog a Bone
4. Chase Like a Beast
5. Not so Home Sweet Home
6. Games People Play
7. Play the Game Tonight
8. Redneck Games
9. Learn to Fly
10. Every Rose has Their Thorn
11. Raspberry Berets
12. Dilemmas
13. No One Gets Out (A)Live
14. Wherever We May Roam
15. Into the Fire
16. Feel Like a Monster
17. Mountains
18. Survive
19. How to Save a Life
20. Blanket on the Ground
21. Bat Outta Hell
22. Here’s to the Farmer
23. The Price
24. Free Bird
25. Knock on Wood
26. Rattlesnake Shake
27. Dude, Where’s My House?
28. Modern Caveman… and Dog
29. Been Caught Stealing
30. Fight For Your Rights
31. Snake Bite Love… Sorta
32. Mostly the Good Die Young
33. Zombie
34. Why Can’t We be Friends?
35. Hard Bargain
36. Strangers in a Really Strange Land
37. Your Beast of Burden
38. Fear of the Dark
39. Man With a Mission
40. Talk That Talk
41. First Day of the Rest of Our Lives
42. Playing with Fire
43. 2 Minutes to Chaos
44. Kill ’Em All
45. In the House of the Mountain King
46. Let it Rain
47. Nothin’ but a Good Time
48. Five O’clock Somewhere in the Real World
49. Treasure
50. Jump Then Fall
51. We Don’t Need Another Hero… Or Two
52. Dark Masquerade
53. The Toxic Waltz
54. Run to the Hills
55. Hail to the King
56. Call to Arms
57. Dancing Queen
58. The Final Countdown
59. Home Sweet Home
Thank you for reading Brad the Impaler
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also in Series
Book 1 – Brad the Impaler
Book 2 – Into the Pit
Free Fantasy from Paul Sating!
To all the dogs of the world for being better residents of this rock than the humans who’ve claimed it as their own.
1
What it’s Like When Worlds Collide
Looking back, I had to question if I should have chased my puppy. If I hadn’t, all the madness that followed might have never happened. My world wouldn’t have turned upside down, and I wouldn’t have been thrust into the middle of a strange realm straight out of a fantasy video game.
But I had gone after the damn dog. That damn. Adorable. Lovable. Seven-pounds-of-stubborn-attitude-Chihuahua. And at that point, I was in for the fight of my life that would drive even the staunchest Puritan to hit the bottle.
“Don’t even think about it,” I said, yanking Slash’s leash. He was absorbed by the bush he was investigating. The Chihuahua weighed less than the twelve-pack of microbrew I’d brought home before heading out for the walk. I gave the leash another tug, this time slighter. “Come on. It’s cold and I’ve had a shitty day.”
Night had fallen, doing little to highlight the tiny dog’s black coat. The only parts of the small body not covered in black fur were his undercarriage and two dots of tan above his eyes. Halfway under the bush, none of that was evident. When Slash investigated, nothing stopped him except for his stifling fear. Of everything.
I took in the night sky, thinking of all the heat the planet was losing into that vast emptiness above and ignored the urge to rush the walk to beat the worst of the coming chill. But Slash needed this time. Deserved it. He’d sat at home all day, alone, while I worked my dead-end job. He’d waited for me. Suffered through hours of bad nineties grunge I’d left playing on my speaker to keep him company. I didn’t have the money, room, or energy for another dog, even one of Slash’s size, which meant he was alone every day.
No, I wouldn’t win any fur-baby parent-of-the-year awards any time soon.
A drizzle misted my face. Typical Pacific Northwest weather eleven months of the year, of which I was smack dab in the middle of. Still buried in the bush, Slash growled, yelped, and scurried to no avail. A flapping in the darkness above the yellow glow of the park’s lights briefly distracted me from my munchkin’s efforts to free himself of the bush.
“What is it, buddy?” I asked, bending to peer under the bush, knowing damn well he most likely didn’t even see anything. The Chihuahua had a habit of freaking out over everything. “See something?”
Slash’s teeny dark eyes were rimmed with a seal of wet tears. He shook, but Slash, like all Chihuahuas, always shook. All. The. Time.
“Nope. You have to go pee first. Not picking you up.”
One fang became exposed because his muzzle always dries out and his lips constantly snag a tooth. The shiver moved down to his hind legs. He sat.
“Put that away,” I said, glimpsing his tiny manhood, standing proudly. “Whatever you think you saw under that bush isn’t worth getting that excited about.”
Slash just blinked, the two spots of tan fur above each of his eyes flicking up and down amidst his shivering.
In my hand, my phone’s screen brightened with the notification of a new message. From Tess. My most recent ex-girlfriend in a long line of coulda-woulda-shoulda beens. Tess was different, though. She was one of the few who didn’t hate me for my inability to commit to a life filled with knick-knack shopping.
Tess was good people. Just because we didn’t work out changed none of that. The relationship disintegrated, not because of anything she did. Nor me, for that matter. We didn’t work because we were two people at different points in our lives when things went to crap. The cool thing? Both of us understood that. Which went a long way toward explaining how we could be the envy of all failed relationships in town. Well, at least within our own circles, small as they were.
Sup, Cowboy?
I shook my head, smirking.
Sup.
Plans?
Walking the pup.
Awww, how’s my wee man?
MY wee man is doing well. Though, I swear, I don’t know how something his size can piss so much.
Because you’re always feeding him booze.
Lies.
I chuckled. Maybe she got me there.
Anyway. Give him a belly rub for me.
You got it. What’s up?
Don’t know. Just wanted to check on you.
Everything okay?
My gut. Something’s weird.
Like?
Don’t know. Just creeped. Didn’t help that I saw a bat when I was trying to get into the apartment. I haven’t run that fast in a long time.
I snorted. I’ve seen Tess run. It’s not pretty.
Must have been a sight.
Don’t laugh. It’s not funny. You’d appreciate that if you had hair.
I have hair.
Ha! You got out of the military two years ago and could still pass inspection with that high and tight you’re sporting.
Touche.
Can you imagine getting a bat tangled in the nest I’m sporting?
Humidity get to you today?
You know it.
Well, I promise, I’m good and safe. Heading home after he finds a place to shit.
You can ’t rush perfection. One must poo only in the perfect spot.
Obviously.
Check in when you get home?
I squinted at the luminous screen. This was odd for Tess. She was sweet and caring and considerate. If she needed five seconds of my time when I got home just to let her know I’d made it safe, I’d give it to her.
Promise. I’ll check in the minute I get in the door and get the wee man’s leash off.
Thanks. Be safe.
Roger.
Don’t do that. I’m not your drill sergeant.
We didn’t have drill sergeants in the Air Force.
Home. Check in. Got it? Over n out. #ListenToYourEx. #SheKnows #WomenRRight #DontPlay
Yes, ma’am! Bye.
Bye.
Tapping the screen, the phone went dark as I slid it into my pocket.
Slash loosed a series of high-pitched barks in rapid-fire mode, pulling toward the bushes on the far side of the park. He might be little, but his sudden movement coupled with the fact I was still sliding my phone in my pocket and only half paying attention, was the perfect opportunity for his liberation.
The retractable leash housing smacked the gray concrete sidewalk and bounced up into Slash’s tail. The little dog yelped and pulled his hind legs up to avoid the rear attack. Spooked, he burst across the park, giving me the wonderful opportunity to get in an evening workout after ten hours of sitting in a cubicle answering customer complaints.
I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Stop!”
The transition from concrete to slick grass was hardly glorious. My right foot hit the grass and slid out from underneath me. My weight shifted before I was ready, and I met a cruel, humiliating, and chilling fate when I crashed to the turf.
Slash’s yaps filled the night air, along with the distinct flapping of bat wings. His already diminutive form bounced away with a briskness that stopped my heart. Call me possessive—I’m not, unless it comes to my pup—but I couldn’t stop the thumping in my chest.
Life was rough enough right now. After eight years in the military, I walked away without my college degree or competitive job skills that translated into the civilian world. Tess aside, my recent relationships could have made for good true-crime fodder. What woman wanted a guy staring down his thirtieth loop around the sun without a degree? One who lived in a ridiculously small apartment with an even more ridiculously high rent? One with a savings account with too many zeroes on the wrong side of the decimal? A guy with a job that offered long hours, crap pay, and an unscrupulous boss? The last thing I needed was to lose my pup.
I grunted and was on my feet. Slash was faster. He floated across the park, disappearing behind a row of trees which served as the line of demarcation between the park and the spot where the city of Olympia inserted itself in everyone’s face like an obnoxious, drunken uncle at a holiday gathering.
This was it. I was really going to lose the little dude. Sure, I had him micro-chipped, but trusting strangers to do the right thing was a fool’s folly.
Those thoughts fired my momentum. I was just warming up as I raced across the open park toward the trees.
In the distance, Slash’s barks cut through the night. Aggressive. Pitched.
Scared.
My thighs burned, but damn, I felt like I was flying across the grass. The trees rushed toward me instead of the other way around.
A flapping sound. Wings. Far larger than any bat I’d ever heard whizzed above in the blanket of the night sky.
The misting rain lashed at my face. Houses and buildings, rising above the tree line, blurred into malformed squares of light. The screech of the nighttime airborne creatures morphed with the power of the Doppler effect.
I could have barreled through a wall if it meant getting to Slash and cutting off whatever had him so scared. My fists clenched, pushing to a sprint through the last third of the park and into the trees. “I’m coming, little buddy. Hang on.”
I’d broken past the tree line. The park stood behind me, as silent and cold as my mother’s disapproval when I told her I was joining the military. Before me, my tiny Chihuahua stood with his four legs forming the widest base six inches of sinew, ligaments, fur, and bone could. A quarter-sized tuft of hair stood at his withers.
“What do you see, buddy?” I leaned slightly, not reaching out to calm him. Laying a hand on his scrawny back would likely send him shooting into the bush he was now flexing on like a twenty-something with failed professional sports aspirations.
A rumble of a growl sounded from Slash’s gut. Adorable, if only the air didn’t hold an unnerving feeling. Cursing Tess for freaking me out, I peered into the dark shadows of the large bush. The park lights touched only the top leaves.
“Maybe we should just go?”
Braced and ready to bolt if something came out of the bush, it was like he hadn’t heard me.
“There’s nothing in there.” Even my glib laugh didn’t ease him. I slowly reached down for his leash. “Come on, wee man. Let’s get home.”
My hand was almost at the leash grip when Slash dashed sideways, freaked out by my movement. He yipped and yapped, his tiny eyes wide and his hackles raised as he vocally assaulted the bush. His leash’s cumbersome grip and housing bounced along behind him as he tried to avoid it, the bush, and my intrusive hand. Once it bounced against his leg, there was no catching him.
When Slash gets like this, I learned the only way to get back in his good graces was by posing as a non-threat. I’m six-one and two hundred and ten pounds of relatively decent muscle. My presence had to be intimidating, especially to a dog already intimidated by most of life. So I did the one thing that would calm him enough to slink back within my reach. I sat down.
“Happy?” I asked my pup.
Slash had stopped darting all over the place, even though he continued snapping his head around to ensure he wouldn’t fall victim to another attack by his retractable leash.
A wet ass was a small price to pay to comfort the little guy. “I really want to get home. I’m cold. I’m hungry. I’m…” Well, I didn’t want to tell him I was starting to freak out about the strange night. Oddly quiet. Bats flitting about. Even the cloud cover seemed stilled, as if painted on the sky. “What do you say we get home and get a beefy treat?”
Slash bowed his head and sniffed at the grass, slinking forward. He was almost within reach when he stopped again, his head snapping up at the cracking of a branch.
My head flashed around and prickles rose on my arms.
Slash yapped, growled, and hunkered lower at the hidden presence.
“It’s okay, buddy. We’re going to go home and get a nice, meaty snack. Maybe two. Okay?”
I jumped at a sudden crash and snapping of branches. The sound of fifty water bottles being crushed simultaneously. The bush shook. I bolted upright. Slash yipped and shuffled away from me and the shrubbery.
“Tonight’s not the night,” I said, scanning the long row for any signs of movement. “I’m serious, dude. Just let me get my dog.”
Watching the shrubbery, I felt a slight nudge against my calf. Slash cuddled against me. He looked up, his eyes shimmering as he shivered.
I smiled. “You’ve got to be freezing, wee man. Let’s head home?”
He snapped his head at the bush, showing his developing perpetual hatred. His ears, never the sharply angled type of domineering dogs, flopped forward, bent in half. He raised one, but it only peaked for a second before flopping over again. His front paws, recently planted in the wet earth like he planned on pinning it down, convulsed. His growl sounded like a road roller smoothing out blacktop on a highway project.
