Berry Barry III: The Briar Lord's Blade Arc, page 1
Berry
Barry
III
The Briar Lord’s Blade Arc
by
Vash The Author
Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, Places and Events are products of the fiction. These are not to be construed or associated otherwise. Any resemblance to actual locations, incidents, organizations, or people (living or deceased) is entirely coincidental.
Berry Barry III. Copyright © 2023 by Vash The Author, N.J. Evans. All Rights Reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission with the exception of brief quotations to be used in articles or reviews of said work. For more information contact the author directly, or publisher.
First Printing: February 2023
Story by: Vash The Author, N.J Evans
Written by: Vash The Author, N.J Evans
Cover Art by: Ambient Studios
ISBN:
*If you purchased this book without a cover, please be aware that this may be stolen property. In doing so, this product may have been reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. The publisher and author have not received payment for the resale of this book.
Chapter 1
A Berry Long Time
Twenty-eight days.
Twenty-eight days of labor. Twenty-eight days of indentured servitude. A debt paid for a life stolen, whether it was by my hands or not. The Uuranaki had a standard of the value of their people’s lives, and that value was paid with time. That time? Twenty-eight days.
So, there I stood. My palms were wet with sweat, a nervous thrumming rang out from my fluttering heartbeats, and my berry mouth was dry with anticipation. This was how I felt on my twenty-eighth day amongst the Uuranaki people, and it would be my last day as their slave.
Alright, let’s recap really fast for all of those people who forgot where we left off. Rewind!
So, I’m Barry. With an A. I’m also a blueberry, or at least I was a blueberry. Now I’m sort of a man with a blueberry head since I hit my second-tier evolution path, [Briar Berry Noble], following my first tier, [Calypso Brawler], which was after my base race of [Calypso Blueberry]. I also had started my little journey as an Angiomancer, which was some kind of nature magic person who used flowering fruits as powers. This has evolved into my current class, the Briarmancer, after I received part of the equipment set for the Briar Lord path.
Anyway, if for some reason you just joined this antioxidant train just now, turn around and read the others. There was a mushroom zombie animal fight, a war against bees, some unfortunate losses of friends and allies, lots of evolutions, and even a dungeon that was inside the body of a dead god which gifted me with a fucking pennywhistle. After wrapping that whole plot line up, Foggy and I were immediately swarmed by these Uuranaki people who happened to notice that my gloves and boots were… Well, they were made of their people’s skin. More specifically, the skin of one of their people named Jeremy. I knew none of that shit, but it still landed me a weird twenty-eight-day labor sentence which I didn’t deserve at all.
Sigh.
Speaking of that, let’s get back to business here.
The roar of the Uuranaki, a race of worm-like humanoids with oily gray skin and odd customs, was fierce. They threatened to pop my berry eardrums as they screamed for me; screamed for the last day of my punishment. Beside me stood another indentured servant named Baakhi, and she was also on her last day; day twenty-eight. Together we had been assigned this particular punishment, which we had seen completed each and every night. I could tell Baakhi had also been nervous, and her gray, wrinkly ball-sack skin was extra oily with perspiration. I reached out and clutched her hand in mine, giving a reassuring nod that everything would be alright.
Out there, amongst a sea of knobby, slate-colored worm heads, was my best friend. My inch worm companion. My ride or die. Fogwarth, seventh heir of the Mothric kingdom and future Pearlescent Lord of Palea. He was a girthy, chunky, large fellow, who had somehow been granted a luxury stay by the Uuranaki as a representative of the Mothric Kingdom, and so they dressed him in warm robes of brown furs and fed him fine foods and even finer drinks.
Currently, he was eating an entire wheel of cheese and drinking some kind of thick red wine straight from the bottle. He gazed up at me, rosy cheeks pushed into a chunky smile, and he waved his cheese wheel in my direction.
“Yay, sir berry! Yay! What a wonderous day it is! Look, sir berry! Look at this cheese! Why, it is as big as my head! And I dare say that I, Fogwarth, am known far and wide for the size of my head. You know, I was once titled as Fogwarth, the Paunchy Gourd!”
“What? That’s… ugh, we really need to stop with the titles, Foggy,” I called back as Baakhi and I disrobed from our black cloaks to a roar of applause.
We turned to face one another, our matching shimmering blue, tightly fitted clothing with the dangling fake crystals glinting under the Mana lights around us. I gave her a nod, she gave one back to me, and we turned to face the growling tide of worm folk, and Fogwarth, who stood watching the stage and waiting for the show to begin.
I inhaled, pulled the penny whistle close to my lips, and began the introduction of My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion for the 136th time.
#
“That was incredible, sir berry! I have never wept harder than on that final one-hundred-fortieth rendition of that beautiful, emotional ballad,” Foggy said as he met Baakhi and I backstage, wiping tears from his eyes and handing me a bouquet of pink and white flowers. “I will cherish the memory of that performance for the rest of my days!”
“Gee, thanks,” I said, taking the flowers and sighing. “Just glad this shit is finally over. Twenty-eight damn days, five shows a damn night. Celine Dion herself didn’t have to go through this kind of torment.”
“Ah, the bard herself,” Foggy said, swooning. “One day I shall meet this Celine Dion and bask in the gifts of her harmonies.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, turning to Baakhi as the three of us made our way to the backroom area. “So, what are your plans now that you’re free?”
Baakhi was… well, odd. She didn’t say much, despite singing the Celine Dion lyrics that I tried to recall from vague memory; she did so 140 times, keep in mind. But she stayed silent as we made our way into our dressing room, which doubled as a prison.
Uuranaki culture was an odd one. Not only were their months twenty-eight days long, but they also had all of their primary establishments build underground, while all of their roadways were above ground. On top of that, they worshipped someone named Harmony Faschelswain, who was the God of Gifts and Melody, whatever that meant. So, our prison was actually a wide hole that had two beds and was set up like a backstage dressing room, right off of a night club they called the Squiggling Squirmer. Bright vanity lights and white vanity desks and chairs, a private restroom, which was just a hole in the floor like that first God Class book, and a single table where our meals were served.
“I do not have any,” Baakhi finally said, undressing down to her worm birthday suit and then quickly got into her normal clothes; a loincloth and dyed black Hyde armor, much like the other Uuranaki warriors wore. “I suppose I will contact my former adventurer party. That is, if they will have me back after my past discrepancies.”
I redressed into my normal clothes as well, which consisted of the black robe given to me by Fogdahn, Foggy’s Eldritch Horror Moth brother who was another of the seven lords, my [Thorned Belt of the Briar Lord] and my rune-etched obsidian shirt sword; my gloves and boots, which were made of someone named Jeremy’s flesh, were gone. Still, I couldn’t complain too much about bare hands and feet when I literally now had real hands and feet. No stems, no roots, just a matte dark blue hands and feet.
I wiggled my blue toes for emphasis.
“Speaking of that, our sentence is done, and I still have no clue what you’re in for,” I said as we completed dressing.
“Same as yourself one would assume,” she answered, now sporting thick leather armor affixed with bronze studs straight out of a Conan or Xena wardrobe. “My people only give a signature sentencing for the death of an Uuranaki brother or sister.”
“Signature sentencing?” I asked, then shook my head. “You know what? Never mind. Don’t care. Just glad to be done with this so we can finally leave this village.”
“Leave?” Fogwarth said, nearly choking on a mouthful of cheese and placing a hand to to his chest. “But… sir berry… we cannot simply leave such a treasured new home so soon! Why, I hear the people speak of something… special. Something that takes time to craft, but which is almost done. They refer to it as… dry aging…”
I rolled my eyes. “Foggy, we are behind schedule as it is. I need to find Presley, and I guess we should also check in with Mothric at some point.”
Foggy just pouted, biting off another chunk of cheese and walking away while muttering something about paradise. I turned to Baakhi, shrugged, and then we followed Fogwarth out of the venue and into the crisp, cool evening under a speckled night sky.
Chapter 2
Call Me Mariah Berry
The night air was a nice, fresh welcome after being inside of that venue packed to the rafters with gray wormy people.
I had been in the Uuranaki village, known as Trakka, as a servant longer than I had been in this world at all before being captured. Whether I
Alright, I shouldn’t complain. I literally walked around wearing some guy’s skin and all I got was a twenty-eight-day sentencing where I had to perform the only penny whistle song I knew. But that’s the hand I was dealt so I feel justified in my complaint. Listen, why don’t you go up and play the Titanic song five times a night for a bunch of ungrateful worms?
Anyway, back to the town. It was quaint, with long dirt paths with mud huts built along the sides. These were mainly shops such as their tailors, tanners, bakers, markets, whatever else a work society needs. Now, it is important to note that these were the shops because this was not where the Uuranaki slept. No, they actually slept in these wide pits dug deep into the ground between the shops. I was a curious blueberry and decided to take a peek down one of the tunnels once only to find a squiggly pile of a dozen naked worm people.
Was it an orgy? No idea. I didn’t stop to ask.
Potential orgy aside, the village was pretty mundane in a nice way. Sort of like visiting most parts of Nebraska. It was nestled deep in a wide canyon a couple hours from where we exited the husk, and as I walked, I often looked up at the tall natural walls all around this place; nowhere near as high as the Mothric walls, but way nicer.
Baakhi would occasionally leave with us, since apparently sleeping in the dog pile with the other Uuranaki was not allowed while completing her sentence. Most nights she would just sleep at the venue, or sometimes not sleep at all, but there were four or five times where she decided to come back with Fogwarth and I to our place. She never said much, but then again, our house didn’t really let anyone get a word in anyway.
Ah, I could already hear him as we approached.
“…Near…far… wherever you are… I believe that the heart does… go on…”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I said to Goomba, the gigantic mushroom that doubled as both our house and one of my familiars. “Really? You have to be singing that now?”
“What? Oh! Oh, hello! I did not sense your approach, Briar Lord. My apologies,” Goomba answered in his thundering baritone. “It is a song crafted by the Gods themselves, I believe. Such raw emotion, such melodic range, it is captivating from the first note to the last. A true feast for the ears.”
I sighed, ignoring the mushroom as he opened his mouth to allow us entry. I was too tired for the formalities and the inappropriate comments, so the three of us trudged inside one after the other.
Over the time that we have been here, Foggy and I had decided to decorate the place a little better, since before it was nothing but a fur rug and bare beige mushroomy walls; Goomba explained that he functioned very similarly to the [Pouch of Storage] where he could essentially hold on to and change the weight and size of any non-living object. We mainly stuck with functional items, such as storage shelves, a table, a chest infused with frost mana that would keep food and drinks cold, and a case for assorted books.
The books were great for me since it gave insight into some parts of Palea that I wasn’t aware of. We had really grown quite the collection of fiction and non-fiction novels, such as Geography of Palea, The North-Lands: A Look Into The Endless Snow, A History Of Wars, The Seven Celestials, and, for whatever reason, a plagiarized copy of Catcher in the Rye; it was pretty accurate, though it was way more graphic with the details on that sex worker scene. Foggy built up a collection of recipe books, which he enjoyed reading instead of actually using.
We strode in, Foggy sinking into a chair of the mushroom body that Goomba summoned while Baakhi sat in her usual spot near the exit. I opted for a full bed, the fleshy shape pushing out from the wall and snatching me up. I didn’t even try to hide my sigh of relief as I sunk into it.
“Hey, Foggy?” I called out, staring up at the ridges of the mushroom cap’s ceiling.
“Hm?” He answered as he cracked open a recipe book on various kinds of pies.
I exhaled, shaking my head but knowing what I had to say. “Look, you’re right, okay? Maybe we shouldn’t just rush out of here. I… I’m sorry I jumped the gun a little bit, man. You’ve stuck it out with me this entire time and I should be more grateful about it. Tell you what, let’s hang here for a little while longer and see if we can gather up some information on Presley then we can plan more. Deal?”
Foggy gasped. “You… You mean it? Do you truly mean it, sir berry? We may stay in this marvelous place?”
I nodded, laying on my back and gazing skyward. “I do. Let’s do it, Foggy. A few days to actually unwind and be carefree for a bit doesn’t sound too bad. Plus, I think we’ve both earned a real vacation after all of the shit we’ve been through, and a little slice-of-life moment never hurt anyone.”
“Or a slice of pie! Or cake…” Foggy answered, then excitedly proceeded to name desserts that can be sliced.
While he was distracted, I rolled over and faced Baakhi, who was idly fingering through an old book that spoke about the ancient smithing techniques of the Beetleoid race.
“I know you want to meet up with your old crew or whatever, but you could spend a few days relaxing with us, you know,” I said, pulling her attention for a moment. “Might be nice to just-“
“No,” she answered, then resumed her reading. “I will thank you for the offer, but my destiny resides elsewhere. I fear that if I stay here then… then I will become complacent, become comfortable. I know from experience how dangerous those can be.”
“…right…” I answered like Dr.Evil from those Austin Powers movies. “Suit yourself then. If you change your mind the offer stands. We’re missing a tall gray third person to round out our group, so the door is open.”
Baakhi actually cracked a smile at that, then even chuckled. “Yes, yes. I have heard all about your golem ally from Fogwarth. I wish you luck in finding it again someday.”
“Yes,” Goomba jumped into the conversation with, his voice exploding out in a deep tone all around us. “Ak-Lol was a thin one, yet his length and rigidity shall always have a home inside of me.”
I shut my eyes and clenched my brow. “There were better ways to say that, Goomba. We’re starting those lessons on phrasing soon. For now, I’m going to get some shuteye.”
The others continued talking as I tugged the hood of my cloak up over my head to shield my eyes from the dim mana light. With my sentence finally done I could now focus on my whole situation again. You know, the one where I’m a talking blueberry who apparently now is on track to join some special order of Lords. I didn’t really care too much about that since it wasn’t my end goal, but I couldn’t just pretend it wasn’t something I needed to address.
I decided to pull up my stats for a quick browse, since I hadn’t in a couple weeks.
[Name: Barry.
Title: Hero of the Blood Orchard War.
Race: Briar Berry Noble; Pantherathropy, tigris-strain.
Level: 16
Class: Briarmancer.
Rarity: Legendary.
Equipment Level: 491]
Looks about the same. My eyes lingered on my mutagen, the Panetherathropy one, and I thought about how I haven’t gone full tiger-berry since we were traveling through the dead God’s husk. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like now, given my new race and skill set. Would it even make a difference at all?
I briefly scanned my expertise as well, just so I got the full scope of what I was bringing to the table. After leaving the husk and coming to this village I had spent what points I had, splitting them mainly between Melee and Magical given my new capabilities.
[Combat Expertise:
Melee: 9% - 5 Points
Projectile: 0%
Magical: 12.6% - 7 Points
Defensive: 5.4% - 3 Points
Supportive: 0%]
I also had an additional 1.8% hanging out in the [Entertainment] expertise category with the musical bullshit. Yes, I did technically need it since it got me through the sentencing without having to do manual labor or other grueling tasks, but it still felt a little bit like a wasted point. In this world, the Oracle, Aspenoc, claimed that very few ever saw a level as high as 50 to 60, with only a handful reaching higher. This meant that every expertise point was crucial, and that additional percentage mattered. Still, hitting rank 8 in my class had really added up with the 0.8 bonus added to my expertise.
