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The Rifleman - Ch.44
🕑 Added 2024-07-10 08:01:01 +0000 UTCChapter Forty-Four
Swamped.
The familiar stench of damp rot and stagnant water washed over Wesley as he stepped through the barrier. It was strange, considering his experiences in those first few hours in the other marshland, but he felt a real sense of peace and relaxation.
His first flight through swampy marshland might have been one of the worst experiences of his life, but it was followed by some of the best. That first use of wisp form to dash over the previously treacherous landscape, his defense of the caravan, those first experiences of being an actual Rifleman, and much else besides.
Wesley doubted he would ever forget the feeling of his first few Emergency Heals pulling those twins back from the brink of death or the smile that burst from the archer when he managed to save her friend/lover/sister, or whatever she was.
“Damn, it’s good to be back,” Wesley grinned.
“Not the reaction most people have to areas that belong to the Marshwalker,” Malia said as she stepped through with her weapon already drawn. “That is the Player embodying death, you know?”
“I’m a hard counter to most of the worst things here,” Wesley replied happily. “Plus, all the undead and frogs and stuff will be great for our cloth and leather scraps collection.”
“I suppose,” Malia shook her head. “Just don’t assume that everything here is the same as the last Marshwalker Zone you visited. This place feels higher level.”
“You’re forgetting something,” Wesley beamed at her.
“That you’re higher level too?” Malia gave a long-suffering sigh.
“No, this time, I’m not alone.” Wesley drew his rifle and turned to lead them into the zone, “And that makes all the difference in the world.”
The Abomination was sizable but not much bigger than the elites in his first dungeon, so Wesley slid forward, feeling the mushroom cap sink ever so slightly as his weight shifted further forward. Much like his first firing spot in the battle to defend the wagon, Wes was on the cap of a giant mushroom, aiming down the roadway.
Unlike that battle, he could take his time today.
So, he carefully aimed while infusing a charge of Emergency Heal into his rifle and waited for his target to close a couple more feet. Just as the large head cleared the branches of a dead tree, Wesley fired.
The bullet slammed into the forehead, glowing red with the healing energy inside, and delivered it to the abomination’s brain in a rush before the bullet tore out the back of the head and shot into the depths of the marsh behind it.
The bloated and twisted head cracked and exploded as fire poured from the eyes and ears.
None of that was something that Wesley saw, however, as the mushroom cap he had been laying on gave way the moment the kickback from the powerful rifle tore a chunk out of it, depositing Wesley onto the ground beneath.
“I told you a mushroom wouldn’t work,” Malia smirked.
“It worked last time,” Wesley protested as he brushed himself off.
“Sure,” Malia sniggered. “Sure it did.”
“It definitely did,” Wesley insisted as they headed for the now-burning abomination. “One day, we are going to find that caravan, and you can ask the archer yourself!”
“Sure,” Malia tapped the foot of the abomination and looted it. The body vanished, taking the fire with it and leaving behind splashes of dark blood and some oily smoke. The loot itself was a stack of cloth scraps, several bones, and an iron bar.
“Why did an undead drop iron?” Wesley wondered aloud. “They don’t normally.”
“We’ll find out,” Malia nodded ahead of them. “It seems like this one wasn’t alone.”
“Healing Flare of Death!” Wesley yelled as he cast a combination of Emergency Heal and Improved Flare into the middle of the approaching abominations.
“There is no way it is called that!” Malia protested.
“It is today!” Wesley chuckled as he and his summons formed a line across the road.
“I am not calling it that,” Malia insisted.
“Uh huh,” Wesley felt himself smiling as the flare dropped into range of the abominations, and they began to catch fire and weaken. “Let's drop 'em,” He raised his rifle, his sims following suit and opening fire on the undead.
His new rifle kicked against his shoulder, and an abomination went down, part of the head missing. He stepped forward, firing as he went, moving into range of the flare before it hit the floor.
His clip emptied just as the last of the line of shambling abominations fell, and he cast Reload, jamming in a new clip and turning to grin at Malia.
“Somebody’s pleased with themselves,” Malia teased.
“So, do you love this place yet?” Wesley asked.
“Not in the slightest,” Malia said stubbornly. “It’s hot, humid, and it stinks of rotting vegetation, dead things, and now burning dead things.”
“You just wait,” Wesley laughed, “It’ll grow on you.”
“That is one of the things I am worried about, yes,” Malia sniffed and immediately regretted it.
Burning undead abomination is not exactly a pleasant stench, so Wesley hurriedly looted the group of bodies.
“More iron,” Wesley muttered. “And look, a gear.”
“Maybe we should have headed for the forest after all,” Malia frowned. “These guys were all Tier 7. Add in the weird loot, and we have trouble.”
“Lootable trouble, my dear knight,” Wesley added. “Lootable, shootable trouble.”
“Someone seems a bit trigger-happy since they got their upgrade,” Malia noted.
“I much prefer to kill dungeon mobs and undead compared to animals or actual people. Less soul-crushing guilt that way.” Wesley said seriously.
“Well, at least we can agree on that.” Malia nodded. “Come on, let’s find an Outpost before we stumble onto something else weird.”
“It should be at least visible from the road, right?” Wesley asked as they moved away from the site of the battle.
“Yes, and clearly visible at that,” Malia confirmed. “There is no point in an Outpost no one can find.”
Wesley checked the marker stones on the side of the roadway as they walked, seeing a small additional mark above the usual. It looked like a tower, and they were definitely close to it.
He pointed it out to Malia, and she confirmed it was the marking for an Outpost, so they were definitely headed in the right direction.
A few minutes later, while tromping through the marsh, they saw the top of a tower over the dead trees and giant mushrooms lining the path. It looked strangely inviting, with a series of colorful cloths flying from the windows that circled the building.
“Oh, shit,” Malia stopped. “Just what we need.”
“Problem?” Wesley asked. The tower looked pretty normal, apart from the sunset colors flying from the windows.
“The keeper is a member of the Bright-heart League. They are kind of a religious movement, but instead of a god or goddess, they worship an idea.” Malia said sourly. “They worship happiness.”
“Weird,” Wesley admitted. “But compared to nailing human skins to the walls, pretty nice.”
“That’s a low bar,” Malia muttered.
“Hey, I work with what I have,” Wesley led the way toward the Outpost.
///////////////////
“Welcome, weary travelers!” The voice was high-pitched but pleasant enough, and you could hear the good intentions in every syllable. “How may I make you happy today?”
The speaker was a small woman with reddish-brown hair tied up in a ponytail to keep her ears from being covered. The squirrel ears certainly went with the big fluffy tail, little twitchy nose, and slightly twitchy stance. She was dressed in a combination of leather armor and a big white apron that someone had carefully drawn a sun on, complete with rays of light emanating from it.
Wesley would have guessed at about five feet, but the woman's sheer energy seemed to add an extra foot. Her painfully earnest face combined with her energy to give the general impression of near-desperate kindness.
“Hello,” Wesley said with a smile. “I’m Wes, and this is Malia. We are looking for somewhere to rest, maybe have a meal, and hand in a contract.”
“I’d be delighted to assist you!” The Keeper beamed. “Right this way, please.” The small woman almost leaped over the counter in her rush to be helpful.
“I love the colors,” Wesley added as he approached the counter. “Really brightened my day.”
“Oh, thank you!” The squirrel-looking woman beamed. “That is just what I was hoping for.” She extended a hand that Wesley noted ended in the black nails of a squirrel. “I’m Joyful Peace, but please call me Joy.”
“Joy by name, joyful by nature,” Wesley said with a big smile while Malia groaned and kicked him in the shin.
“Exactly!” Joy radiated happiness. He could literally feel the heat and happiness radiating from her skin as she glowed slightly. “Now, shall we sort out that contract?”
“Wonderful,” Wesley said, amused at the sheer pleasure a little kindness was giving the Keeper. “Thank you for being so efficient.”
“Stop it!” Malia snarled in his ear.
“Did I do something wrong?” Joy asked suddenly, the glow vanishing. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not you,” Wesley assured the Keeper, “My friend merely suffers from an unfortunate medical condition.”
“You do?” Joy looked filled with compassion.
“Yeah, she was born without a funny bone,” Wesley nodded thoughtfully. “It’s very sad, but she can only feel joy when she hits me.”
“I will, literally, punch you,” Malia warned.
“See?” Wesley winked.
For just a second, Wesley thought she was really going to punch him, then she cracked up and started to laugh.
“Ooh, I love these cookies,” Wesley said, helping himself to another. “You’re a wonderful cook.”
“Thank you,” Joy sat on the other couch, legs tucked under her as they talked. “It’s been an age since I had any visitors who stayed long enough to enjoy them.”
“I have to agree,” Malia said with a smile. “These have definitely brightened my day.”
“That is all I could ask for,” Joy beamed. “I have to ask; did that other keeper really get corrupted?” She leaned forward, clearly desperate for the story.
“She did,” Wesley said, leaning forward and whispering like it was a secret. “Personally, I think she got lonely.”
“It can happen,” Joy nodded rapidly. “Being alone in this world can be a trial.”
“Don’t I know it,” Wesley agreed, “I was alone for a while before I was lucky enough to run into Malia.”
“You poor thing,” Joy patted his hand. “How did you manage?”
“Oh, I got by,” Wesley smiled. “I was lucky enough to meet a good few kind people along the way.” Wes went on to talk about the stone folk farmer who gave him corn and a place to sleep, as well as the archer who had given him the herbs to keep his teeth clean and breath fresh.
He still used them as often as he could, and the difference they made was amazing.
“You really think that helped?” Malia seemed genuinely interested.
“Sure,” Wes nodded. “Every time I use the herbs, I think of someone who went out of their way to be nice. The same goes for the farmer. I see a farm, I remember someone who was kind. It makes the whole world seem brighter. Kinder. In a world like this one? I swear it kept me going. Still does. You’re on that list as well, by the way.”
“Me?” Malia asked. “Why?”
“You ran into some idiot in line and took the time to try and help him out. That kept me going a few times during the defense.” Wesley said seriously. “I honestly thought to myself that everything could get better, that I could get out the other side of that horror show, and I had a friendly person I could go and meet up with. It really helped me.”
Malia nodded and looked away, seeming to want to change the subject.
“That’s what we are here for!” Joy said excitedly. “A helping hand and a kind smile. Just in case it might make a difference.”
“Well, take it from me. It works.” Wesley smiled. “And I’ll make sure to recommend this place to anyone I meet in need of a little TLC.”
“TLC?” Joy asked, her brows wrinkling. “I don’t think I have any?”
“It just means tender, loving care.” Wesley smiled. “I think you have plenty.”
“Oh!” Joy blushed crimson. “Let me get you more cookies!” She dashed away.
“I thought you were just messing with her,” Malia said quietly. “When you seemed so happy here. You really like it, though, don’t you?”
“A smiling face, a warm welcome, and a place to rest?” Wesley asked. “Sure.”
“It doesn’t seem corny?” Malia asked carefully.
“Maybe,” Wesley said as he settled deeper into the well-stuffed leather sofa. “But sometimes corny is just what you need.”
Malia laughed and relaxed.
“What kind of contract are you looking for?” Joy asked eagerly. “I’m not sure what exactly to offer.”
They had finished their tea and cookies, and talk had turned to the next purpose of their visit to the Outpost. With the contract on the golem turned in—Malia insisted they split the thirty gold reward—and a report filed about the corrupted Outpost Keeper Claire, it was time to turn to new business.
“Nothing in a dungeon if we can avoid it,” Malia noted. “We just did one not too long ago.”
“That’s fine,” Joy nodded. “We have something under pacification, protection, and assistance. Any preferences there?”
“I’m assuming the protection one is for an escort across the zone?” Malia asked.
“No, it is a timed protection assignment. A local merchant is being threatened, and they want someone to guard their place from tomorrow night until an hour after first light.” Joy said anxiously. “The threat seems to be serious.”
“What’s the reward like?” Malia asked.
“Not as high as it could be,” Joy said, “But if it helps, the merchant is a good person?”
“It can’t hurt,” Wesley said to Malia, “if we are in the area anyway.”
“True,” Malia nodded. “Okay, sign us up.”
“Thank the Bright Heart!” Joy glowed. “I’ll see you here tomorrow night, then?”
“You’re being threatened?” Malia asked. “Who threatens a Keeper?”
“Not just me,” Joy said quickly. “It’s the Outpost too.”
“Fine,” Malia rolled her eyes. “But why?”
“That’s the weird thing,” Joy replied. “I have no idea. I was just told that I had until tomorrow night to vacate the Outpost before they destroyed it.”
“Who are they?” Wesley asked.
“I’m not sure,” Joy fretted, pulling at her tail nervously. “All I heard was the voice. It was very scary.”
“Okay, enemy unknown,” Malia sighed. “Any idea of numbers?”
“I saw about twenty lights, but that is it,” Joy added.
“Lights?” Wesley prompted.
“In a ring around the Outpost. I was hiding at the top of the tower.” Joy looked away and blushed. “I’m not really a fighter.”
“Well, we are,” Malia said with a smile. “Or I am, and he’s learning fast.”
“You’re training him?” Joy asked shyly.
“She sure is,” Wesley replied. “Malia teaches me to fight, and I teach her how to smile.”
Malia swiped him across the back of his head, making him wince.
“Oh, look. It’s working!” She smiled.
//////////////////
A half-hour later, Wesley and Malia left the Outpost behind them, heading out on their second contract.
The protection mission wasn’t until tomorrow night, so they took an Investigation mission to investigate unusual activity in the ruins not too far south of the outpost itself.
Wesley was pretty willing to bet that the goings on there were somehow related to the threats on the Outpost anyway.
There was a reason why no one attacked those places. They posed no threat, served anyone, and offered quick travel to any who needed it and could pay. In short, they were too useful to destroy.
In fact, the only reason to destroy one was to make it more difficult to move to and from an area. Malia had told Joy that she had heard of them being destroyed during the invasions or when there was a small civil war inside a faction, but never for any other reason.
There was no invasion here and no sign of any kind of civil war, which only left one reason to destroy the place.
That reason was to prevent news from spreading about something and to keep people away. It was classic Earth warfare stuff, to cut off communications above all.
He figured they weren’t even after the Outpost itself. It was the Records book, which was instant communication to anyone who was watching.
“This is why I hate undead zones,” Malia complained. “Investigations should be done in the dark, but we can’t because that’s when all the dead things get frisky.”
“Wow, phrasing,” Wesley complained. “There’s a mental image I could do without.”
“Don’t blame me for your dirty mind,” Malia smirked.
“You keep joking,” Wesley smirked back, “Wait until it gets dark and you hear something squishy and wonder….”
“If I do, I’m gonna push you into it,” Malia laughed. “Come on, we have work to do.”
