Wardancer 6 - NNWM 2k17
Nov. 25th, 2017 09:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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For more information on Boontling and the terminology used in this chapter, please refer to this dictionary
For a translation of the song into plain English, please read this. Be warned, it is incredibly NSFW once you understand the lyrics
Bacchanalia doesn’t even begin to describe what went on last night in Torsorhaven. Even Sexwarrior gave in after a while and joined us in a bit of hate sex, like good rivals should sometimes. If I’m not mistaken, Miri even got some snapshots of Nobunaga and I getting a little too family friendly. If even just to use as more blackmail. She just can’t get enough of that, though at this point I think she was just saving that for, well, private time later. Fucking perverts, the lot of us. Oddly enough, the two men with me didn’t join in beyond getting a couple of tall, frosty ones and eating all of the Welsh cakes and something called Tatws Popty they could eat. Apparently, Shawn and Gus were potato and starch men, not that I could blame them. Their entire diet since this journey started was somewhere between “college fratboy on a budget” and “we’re from California so we may or may not be stoned and need to make a midnight Taco Bell run.”
Not that I was much better. I enjoyed hearty helpings of Cawl stew inbetween my bedtime revelries and frothy mugs of boozey-free ciders, made from local pears and apples mixed together in a fine brew that was not only recovery healthy, but tasty as the dickens. I think one of them was flavored with cranberry, a traditional wintery flavor, though it appeared to be this was the only area on the whole map with any snow. I wasn’t complaining, though. Both gave me energy to spare as I dived right back in, not even caring who saw me in just my kilt and camisole, the only coverings the character creation process had left me with. Remember, the Wardancer was always in danger of flashing everyone her own version of Taco Tuesday anytime a strong gust appeared. Too bad it wasn’t a California Redwood; it’d fit the theme better.
But enough about what’s under my kilt, unless you’d like to know about the impressive amount of lipstick marks I collected that day. So I hadn’t slept two days and just partied another. It was a game, right? We could just quaff some potion from one of the many Jaclyn Rose supply stores and restore our HP that way. Of course, I still denied Katsuragi any action, just to give her a hard time for giving me, well, a hard time. But dawn came and that meant a hearty Gaelic breakfast, as this land was a mix of the Welsh, the Gaels, and a bit of the Norwegian area of the world. Felt like home, had I been born a few hundred years earlier. All I can say is that was a lot of bacon and eggs. Some things are just universal I guess.
But we had a mission and I’m not sure this was one of those games we could wander off on endless sidequests and delay the inevitable at unrealistic stretches. We agreed to stay around long enough to wash up, make sure all our clothes and equipment were intact, and after lunch we’d head on over to Jaclyn’s to get some HP restoring potions for the most of us and a couple MP ones for Gus, having been so kind as to cast stamina buffs on us just to get our happy, spanked asses out of bed. Gus had refused to take part in this because he was sure most of the women here would tear him in half, and Shawn said he was too committed to Jules back at home to want to give in. She’s a cop, she’d know if he copped anything like a feel here somehow, even if she never saw this world or game before in her life. They kept busy by amusing some of the more drunk women with Shawn’s psychic powers, though he refused to give out any winning lottery numbers. Not like they could get any sleep with the kind of noise we were making all night, all through the town. Branwen, at one point, asked them if they were some kind of gay, not like most of everyone else here wasn’t or something, and saying they could borrow some corner if they wanted it.
“Why’s everyone always mistaking us for a couple in this world?” Gus huffed, annoyed.
“Probably because you know we’d make a cute couple. Not that we’re gay. But if it came down to it and I had to pick a guy I could trust to be my first, well, you’d come after Val Kilmer.” Shawn laughed.
“Are we back on this joke again?”
“Well, you sound insulted there, my Chocolate Wonder of a friend. Jealous much?”
“Shut up, Shawn. I think Atma’s coming back down with the others and is about ready to head on out. And not a moment too soon, the next town better have less of...whatever this was and more restful accommodations. I can’t keep healing us forever.”
“Then why did you make yourself our Pharmacist?”
“I dunno, why did they make me, someone whom, back at home, would be singing along to stuff like Manowar, and do it poorly?” I interjected. “This game makes less and less sense every day. Now come on, let’s go get us some potions, say goodbye to the ladies, and head on out of here? According to my map, the next town is southeast of here, in what looks to be a rather striking and green valley. I think, if I’m reading it correctly, the town’s name is Ulrikh?”
“Sounds peaceful. I’m in.” Gus shot up first.
Katsuragi was being ever so attractive, adjusting her chainmail bikini and scratching her tits and ass as she yawned. “Can’t we stay here? It’s got blackjack. And hookers. In fact, forget the Demon Lord.”
Nobunaga pinched Kat by her earlobe and dragged her down the steps in one hand, guitar strapped to her back, rolling her eyes. “Come on, Lil Miss Grabs-a-lot. I’m sure once we save the world, we can come back on a return tour, but only if you parade on stage like a good bitch again.”
“Atma, your sister sucks. And not in the way I’d like.” Kat puffed her cheeks before coming up with what she thought was a witty retort. “Though I definitely saw you two doing that last night. You two really related, or is sister some kind of weird samurai term for lovers, because that’s definitely not what sisters do.”
I scowled at Katsuragi. She immediately added “Wait, no, I definitely know some back home who do worse. You should meet ‘em sometime. They’re twins even! Whatever, just so long as it’s consenting.”
Nobu cracked up in a massive burst of laughter. “You? Wanting consent? Oh, wow, joke of the fucking century here. Besides, we’re sisters-in-law, technically, so it ain’t incest if it ain’t blood related.”
“Gross.” Shawn interjected.
“You two are lucky you can’t conceive.” Gus added. “I don’t want to know what kind of medical problems your kids would have.”
“Well, if they’re in-laws, then yeah, they’re right. It’s not technically anything.” Syl added. “I’ve read it in about a few dozen of these novels here. It never pans out as the final pairing, anyways.”
“Did someone find the number of the horse-drawn-carriage that hit me?” Aryana added as she joined us for one last round of caffeine and equipment checking. “You all REALLY know how to party. I’m definitely going to enjoy sticking around you all.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” Miri scoffed. “If I had been in charge of pyrotechnics last night instead, you’d have seen a real show.”
“You calling my work lame?!” Lina interjected from across the room. “Why, I oughta...”
“You sure talk loud for someone so flat.” Kat snorted, earning her another sound beating.
I broke them up, saying they could either get a room and be left behind or we could go buy supplies and make our way to the valley town of Ulrikh. It would be a few days before we’d make it there, so we stocked up well on camping goods. Shawn insisted on spending most of his coin on s’mores supplies, promising he brought enough for the whole class. Katsuragi managed to find a few adult publications in this world, though most of them were text with Polaroid level photos, it was still better than nothing. I just made sure that Aryana and Nobunaga and Lina could keep us in food since, for once, I was completely useless on a melee front. I tried lifting a sword and it felt like it weighed of the whole world. I couldn’t believe it. And I don’t think game animals die from hearing Scottish traveling tunes.
One thing all of us did have was enough stories to tell across the campfire as we settled in each evening along the way to Ulrikh. Syl mostly read from her new book, Tales of Radiant Symphoniabyss X 2: The Berseriestriaing of Innocence, though that was mostly to titblock Katsuragi from reading the personals section of her Ye Olde Playboye or whatever it is she bought now. Lina and Nobu found common ground burning shit by cooking us dinner of a massive boar and some root vegetables they found. That’s some damn tasty roast, y’all. I noodled out a few strings on my biwa and sang Siofra’s ballad again, and when it wasn’t my turn, I’d play my pipes on low as background noise.
Eventually, dawn came, all of us waking up at various rates, wondering just when we passed out. We were just outside Ulrikh at this point and could be there in time for a good mid-morning breakfast, finding ourselves treading upon a land rich in vineyards and traditional looking wood buildings. It reminded me of my homeland so much, but at the same time, it felt older, somehow, like someone had gone to Wine Country and rebuilt it in an old west aesthetic. Something told me things were about to get a little more country and a little less rock n’ roll.
I already knew what the guards were going to say so I just said “Open the damn barn door, man” at the first guard I saw. He looked like a cross between a ranch hand and an outlaw cowboy. We heard the usual guard blather as we walked on in and started looking whatever would possibly be the local lord’s office. Or in this case, the sheriff? What’s the old west equivalent of a warlord, anyways.
As usual, I told everyone to go wait at the inn. Or tavern. Or whatever this place had. We stumbled upon one called Bucket of Blood. Now where had I heard that one before? It wasn’t coming to me quite yet so I just let my group be and found the main sheriff’s offices, his posse and him sitting around and playing some card game, throwing poker chips in the middle, feet on the table. They honestly looked more like a bandit gang than any kind of law enforcement, but hey, had to trust the badge. Not that I usually do, but maybe things are different in Melodia. I cleared my throat and interrupted their game, watching a few of them get close to their weapons.
“Hey there, brightlighter. What has you piking out to Ulrikh?” The main one asked.
Oh, dear gods, they were speaking Boontling. For those that don’t know, back home, that’s my local and almost extinct argot. I grew up listening to some of it so I taught myself it and became fluent to help preserve it. That’s explain the local inn’s name. I decided to respond in kind.
“Nice dissies, high heeler. I see you dicking these kimmies around.” I grinned, having accused an arresting officer of cheating these fellows out of their money. “Well, this ‘ere modocker and her crew have come out here to see if we can’t train to beat the Demon Lord in a musical sharkin’ match. You may’ve heard of me as the Wardancer, and I swear on my life, I’m one heck of a stiff hat when it comes to this musical thingamajig.”
“Ahh, my boys, she’s finally come around. Now, why don’t we get straight to the point. I see you can boont, but are you a real singing bearman, or are you just a plain ol’ bloocher?”
“Yeah, yeah, I got proof. Why don’t y’all sit real tight and I’ll prove I’m no hood, and neither are my kin?”
If you couldn’t tell by our tone, we just bantered a bit, and they wanted the usual proof, and I was willing to give it to them. I pulled out my biwa and tuned it a bit to sound a bit more country, even if it was Japanese country, and began to belt out my usual tune, changing just a few words to Boontling in verse to get them really into it. It’s pretty funny to convince them that Siofra was a good ol’ fashioned burlapper rather than a regular ol’ slut. Fyrshala, goddess of burlappers. I’d have to remember that one for later.
As usual, we got a hearty, warm welcome and a promise this time of not only free room and board, but that anything involving us in a bar fight would be rightfully excused. I’m sure we were going to need that. If not me, then someone in my party was bound to get in it with someone sloshed. Probably Katsuragi again, hitting on the waitress. Boonters don’t take as kindly to direct flirts.
I bowed to them and walked out triumphantly, getting some odd looks from the locals. Ain’t they ever seen a woman in a kilt before? Or a poofy hat? I was pretty sure any second now some band would waltz in and demand our attention and we’d have to go get dressed up and sing some nitty gritty redneck jugband bluegrass country shenanigans anyways; the pattern of behavior here was getting increasingly obvious.
I walked into the Bucket of Blood and took a seat, looking a bit pensive as I ordered a root beer and sipped from it slowly, as if it were the real deal. Eventually, someone broke the silence and asked me what was up.
“Okay, it’s not like you to be this sullen once you get back from convincing the town you’re the hero. What’s up, sis?” Nobu asked, hand on my shoulder.
“Well, for one thing, it’s just a bit quiet and leery around here, and not leery in the way Kat likes to look at women. This is a ‘She Dresses Funny’ kind of leery.” I sighed. “The other thing is I’m gonna have to play translator for y’all. Pardon me but there’s something you don’t quite all know yet about this filthy modocker.”
“Filthy...what?” Kat asked. “I mean, yeah you’re a dirty girl, but not in---”
“No, you damn brightlighter. They all speak in Boontling here. It’s an almost extinct language born back where I live and it’s going to make me sound redneck as hell, well...” I hesitated a moment. “Probably because I am one, y’all, born and raised into it. So when I call all y’all brightlighters, I’m just saying y’all don’t boont, which means to speak it. And by modocker, I mean I just said I’m gay.”
“O-oh my gods...” Kat started to crack up. “S-so you’re saying it’s like some kind of California Kansai or something? You sound hilarious.”
“This is how I normally talk, you nitwit molly gormer. I just know if and when to use it.”
“I don’t know what you called me, but I assume it was something good and cool.”
“’Fraid not, ma’am.” A new voice shot up from another table. I looked up and an elf in impressive armor was addressing us. “You probably don’t want to know.”
“D-Do I know you, kimmie?” I asked.
“Sort of, ma’am. If the name Cicada means anything to you, and by willing, it should.”
“...You’re another one of my good friend’s avatars here, huh? I can tell by the accent and the fact y’all only got one leg. Y’all get sucked in and just scattered about like rare artifacts for me to find and assemble or what?”
“He figured this form’d be easier to get by in a world like this with.”
“Okay, don’t worry everyone, I know him. He’s cool.”
“Finally, another guy.” Shawn laughed. “I mean, not that these women here aren’t excellent wingmen in and of themselves, but you know how it goes. I suppose this means since you know our hero here, you have to join her band.”
I was about to nod and agree to the whole thing and just ask Cicada his job class and musical specialty when I was interrupted by a loud few hacking and bashing sounds and screams. We all paused and turned to the dark corner of the Bucket of Blood and found out why it had that name; a man, in an impressive set of chaps and a rather nice hat, lay in his own blood, dead, chaps essentially ruined for the pilfering. His head was bashed in and there law a few deep gashes in his back, meaning the shirt was especially ruined. Whomever did this was either doing it as a regular murder or they felt a crime of fashion was taking place. Who knew fashion police existed in MMOs? Wouldn’t we all be arrested if that were the case?
“Well, shit.” Lina interjected. “Think he’s got anything in his wallet?”
“Let’s go look. I’ll split it fifty-fifty with you.” Miri added.
“Deal.”
Just as the two explosive little firecrackers went to go and pilfer the poor dead man, we heard the swinging doors of the Bucket of Blood get kicked down and the distinct sound of a blackpowder rifle being drawn out and two equally archaic pistols being loaded and locked, the figures wearing hooded capes over their faces, followed by the voices wielding them screaming “Freeze, scumbags!”
We all put our hands up in the air. I mean, we were thinking about using a dead man’s earnings to get us a free meal, but the only one here who is actually guilty of anything would just be Katsuragi and her nasty little groping habit. The rest of us? Just guilty of being damn good looking.
“Tch. The fuzz works fast around here, don’t they?” Nobu asked nobody, annoyed that we were caught this off guard this quick.
“It’s okay, don’t worry, Atma’s inexplicably historically important sister, back home I work with the police department and--” Shawn was cut off by one of the two voices pointing the guns at us. If I couldn’t use swords and they didn’t reliably stop guns, no way was I letting my instruments take a shot.
Not like that, you perv.
“Spencer? What the hell are you doing….You know what, I’m not even going to ask at this rate. This shouldn’t even be possible, like every other time you show up to ruin something.” The voice scowled at us.
“Oh, Lassie! I was wondering when you’d join us. You know, your singing voice is amazing, you should totally join us; remember when we did that to take down that playwright only it wasn’t him and then Yang...”
“Can it, Spencer. I’ve heard all your work and there’s no way I’m joining anything involving you, Guster, and some weird bard in a kilt and her even weirder harem.”
“Wait, Lassiter...” The other hooded figure unveiled herself, lowering her rifle. “That is Shawn and Gus, isn’t it? And, well, others.”
“Jules? You’re here too? Even better! We could use some backup dancers against this Demon Lord guy we’ve been investigating and...”
Of course it was more people that shouldn’t be here. Three in one day. Excellent.
“Wait, that’s the girlfriend you had me cosplay when we were your boy band?” Kat looked Jules over, giving her a sly wink and a finger gun.
“You had...whatever this barbarian is dress as me?” Jules yelled at Shawn, attention back on Kat, gun back up. “You, though, hands back up. One more inappropriate comment and I’ll make sure a harassment record goes home with you.”
“Holy shit, I see why you like her now.”
“Thanks for noticing me. By the way, the name’s Atma the Wardancer, and I’m this world’s last hope, so uh, I’m pretty sure I get diplomatic immunity on this one and call so for the rest of my group.” I knew it wouldn’t work but it was worth a shot. “Ask the sheriff if you don’t believe me.”
“You know what? I think I will. Hero or not, you’re all going down to the sheriff’s place for fingerprinting and the best DNA testing we can muster in this place. Guster, if you help us out with that, we’ll let you go first, you’re the last person I’d suspect here.”
“Thank you, Lassie.” Gus said, half thankful, half sarcastic.
With that, we were all cuffed, saved Cicada, who was lead graciously to the station by Jules supporting him on his de-legged side. Katsuragi just rolled her eyes, wishing that was her instead. We all filed into the sheriff’s office where he gave us all a puzzled look. “I thought y’all was heroes or something?”
“We are, this is just a wrongful arrest. Tell him I at least get diplomatic immunity. We were just all in the Bucket of Blood at the wrong time’s all.” I snarled a bit.
“Well, here in Ulrikh, we jus’ wanna make sure you still ain’t secretly no brightlighter. You boont well and sang the song, but let’s get you on record, just in case.”
Oh, you had to be kidding me. I had a Demon Lord to slay and we were being detained by Juliet O’Hara and Carlton Lassiter in a shady Sheriff’s shack in some old west version of my homeland. I bet they were eating this up. At least Lassiter would be. I waited through the long process of them using some sort of magic paper to fingerprint us and we had various fluids drained and hairs plucked to be analyzed in some magic container I couldn’t figure out how it was possible, but this game hasn’t made sense since day one, so why would it start making sense now?
It felt like an eternity, much like some kind of medieval or renaissance version of sitting in line at the DMV, but eventually Jules came back and smiled at us, a folder in her hand.
“Well, the good news is none of your DNA or anything matches what was found on the body at the...Bucket of Blood. I still can’t believe that’s that places real name.” She began, flipping through her papers. “But, well, our results turned up something...interesting, to put it mildly. You all might want to sit down for this one, especially Shawn and Katsuragi, it pains me to say.”
“Hey, she can pronounce my name, why you always calling me Red Sonja then, whitey?” Kat huffed.
“Gee, maybe because it’s her job to be professional, and the most Japanese I know comes from ordering lunch and reruns of things like Zatoichi?” Shawn responded, putting his feet on the table.
“We couldn’t believe this at first either, but well, your interaction just now proves it.” Jules sighed. “Believe me when I say I don’t want this to be true, either, but Kat, you may want to stop calling Shawn white, or whatever.”
“Why’s that? Look at him, he looks like he suntans by looking at photos of the sun on his laptop or something.” Kat pounded her fist on the table. “I want answers! Out with it!”
“Well, okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Just tell them they’re long lost siblings already. Geeze, O’Hara. It’s not like it’ll kill you to---” Lassiter interjected, Jules giving him a horrible, angry look. “Oh. Yeah. Maybe you should have been the one to say it.”
“Whaaaaat?” Kat and Shawn said at the same time, looking at each other, sort of making the same gestures at one another, as if looking in a mirror.
“There’s no way that’s right. How is this even possible? Is anyone else around here secretly someone’s sister? How’s about the sorceress and Lassie, they both love to blow stuff up. What about the new legless elf and the Harpy loving one? Are they related? It’s the ears giving it away for me, man.” Shawn scowled.
“Don’t make me test how right you are on you, hair boy!” Lina shouted from afar.
“I’m pretty sure that elf comment constitutes some kind of racism, but I couldn’t be arsed to figure out what exact law that’d be breaking, if any in this world.” Aryana added.
“Wait, this means if you two get married, that’d make Jules my sister-in-law, and then that’d….I think legally that’s still okay so nevermind.” Kat leaned back, looking pretty exhausted. Not that we could blame her.
“Hahaha! It totally makes sense though! They’re both hopeless, dorky, blondes who make quips about everything, have perfectly poofy hair, and deflect everything with bad humor!” Nobu cackled, doubling over and laughing so hard we thought she might spew. “Oh, this is too rich.”
“I’ll show you rich, young lady.” Kat glared.
“Yeah, what she said. Suck it, Nobu.” Shawn laughed.
“Yeah Nobu, suck it.”
Then they both burst out in a chorus together, singing “Suuuuuuck iiiiit” as loudly as they could. That was it, that was all the proof we needed that Jules wasn’t making anything up.
“So, back to business. We can have a tearful family reunion later. But for now, we should work on who actually did this.” replied Miri. She was right.
Just then, much like in Adoch, a note was slipped under the door. Well, rather nailed to it. I went out and retrieved it. It merely read “Return to the Bucket of Blood if you want to see what you all are up against, or your merry little group is next.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I left the office and made my way towards the tavern, finding another poor dead fellow with a note pinned to his leather vest, written in what was probably blood. I’d say good thing MMOs don’t have plagues or diseases transferred by blood, but I’m pretty sure that actually happened once. When I turned around, I saw my group behind me, along with Jules and Lassiter, looking concerned. Or as much as some of them could.
“It’s another challenge. This time by the band ‘In Search of Bucky Walter’. Oh, so we’re going to play it this way.” I showed the two cops the note. “It’s local slang, Boontling if you will, for ‘Go Find a Payphone and Call Someone Who Cares.’ Well, sort of. It’s a weird language.”
“So a bunch of thugs who have murdered twice in our presence named themselves after a playground insult?” Lassiter growled. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, sir. You can trust any of us. It’s been a weird adventure, but this is just par for the course for us. I’m gonna need three of you with me to help me take them down. Miri, you and Lina team up on pyrotechnics for this one. Kat, I’m gonna need you as bouncer, because I have me an idea.” I grinned. “And because I’m the hero around here, you all get to follow my commands to a T. I’m the hero of Melodia, the Wardancer, and if you want to take down a bunch of Boontling speaking thugs, then there’s really only one option we have.”
“The spirits are telling me you’re up to something devious, aren’t you, oh queen of the California hillbillies?” Shawn laughed.
“You better believe it.”
I looked over at our two new cop buddies and got a mischievous grin on my face. “Okay, my turn for interrogations. You and elf boy gather round the table. If you want any chance of ever getting home, or at least arresting these sons of bitches, follow my lead. I know what I’ve been doing so far. I’m going to need your names, job classes, and musical specialties about now.”
You could tell really only Cicada was into it, because any chance to show off a bit was a good one, and what was more fun than singing in a genuine gritty jugband? O’Hara looked frustrated, but understanding of the whole thing. Lassiter looked like someone just shot him, but agreed they really had no other options or leads at this point.
What’s the first item of business when a band calls us out? Y’all should know at this point. We needed a name, a theme, an identity. Costumes that made us look more ridiculous than our default outfits. We debated putting on Claire’s pink and white outfit we won from the Electric Dojo Goths on Lassiter and claiming he was a bar wench, but we know the man was already going through enough. At least, if nothing else, I knew he respected old west law. We were going up against outlaws, and the only way to beat them is to be grosser and cruder than them at all possible turns. I was getting ideas and my gears were turning. For once, I agreed we’d all need costumes to keep with the theme, and so we’d stop getting stared at by the locals.
That, and let’s be real, I kind of just wanted to see all the women I’d collected in daisy dukes and cowboy hats and flannel tied under their chests and, wait, I was getting way ahead of myself. But that wasn’t a bad idea. But me, being the Wardancer and all, would be spared that kind of humiliation. I’m the hero, after all, which means I get the coolest looking armor by default. All your end game stuff, at least, was going to look the best. And if you shared equipment sets with someone else, you were bound to pull it off just a bit nicer. It’s the law of video games. Or at least a law of fashion.
“Let’s get to work, brightlighters.”
I checked their applications first and foremost to see where to best utilize them. Cicada turned in a very nice application, albeit with quite the detailed story of how he lost his leg, which would be entertaining night chatter in and of itself, but we only had our usual day to prepare, so we’d save it for the afterparty, since like hell I’m gonna lose to someone who thinks they can pin a damn crime on me. His job class? Hotdishin’ It Out. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re an elf that sounds like you come from Minnesota, somehow. Weirder things have definitely happened so far on this adventure, like, oh, everything. He could get a sweet accordion out of this.
O’Hara turned hers in and she also had a sense of humor. Her bio was briefer but her job class was Miami Heat, and Shawn and I laughed at that one a good while. At least someone decided to have fun with the fate she had been served up in this world. A fiddle would work well for her, I thought.
Lassiter? His just had his basic vitals and a job class listed as “Head Detective.” Seriously, dude? Had you no imagination? This made my job easier, though, because it came time to pick out instruments and I decided to assign him a musical saw. The mental image of him trying to work one would be absolutely hilarious.
Me? I’d be on the banjo, because if I’m gonna be stuck on string instruments, I may as well go for the most truly redneck of them all as our intrepid leader. Our first stop would be wherever the local Jaclyn Rose outfitters was. I imagine the one in this place would have some rather dandy period costumes for us. If nothing else, we’d at least look a bit more country. I picked up my whole band and we walked on over, me adjusting my kilt and leaning over the counter, plenty of coin still in my sporran.
“Good day, Jaclyn. You don’t know me, but I know plenty of you. I’m Atma the Wardancer, and me and my group here are looking for something to, well, make us fit in a bit more. We got a big show against In Search of Bucky Walter tomorrow night and I want us to look our best.” I pulled up Cicada, Lassiter, and Jules and put my arms around them all, grinning wide. “Especially us. We’re the core group. The rest will be our lookout posse. Just make them look dirty, the blonde in the chainmail bikini most of all, if you could. Us? We could use a bit more class.”
“Oh ho, my cousins told me you’d be by, so please, take your time. And what shall we be calling your group, oh mighty hero?” Jaclyn giggled as she waved her fan in her face.
“I already thought of a name on the way over, milady.” I took my hat off and held it to my chest, looking proud. “So long as we’re in Ulrikh, we’ll be known as Routing the Kimmie to the Boat.”
This Rose turned as red as her name as she heard that. “My my, how scandalous.”
“What in God’s name did you name us, woman?” Lassiter scowled.
“Can’t be any worse than Sex Cavalry.” Shawn snickered.
“You got that right.” Gus added, looking at a fancy array of hats.
“It means you knocked a woman up. I figured I’d keep the whole scandalous, lovable pervert with a groupie harem theme going and all.” I tried my best not to laugh.
“Oh, man, that is way worse than Sex Cavalry. Somehow, I now like that name. Good luck with that one, Lassie.” Shawn pat him on the shoulder, laughing as he walked off. “Heh, Sex Cavalry.”
“Sex Cavalry?” Jules asked, staring at me.
“I thought you said you heard all our music by now.” I replied.
“Yes, but it’s not like we had a Best Of CD with track names or band names. Which one was this one?”
“Our Boy Band. The one Shawn dressed Kat over there up as you to act as our manager to help us sneak in as they disguised me as a man. You would know us from our one and only hit single, or even song ever, Chivalry Isn’t Dead.”
“Oh dear god, it was that one. I can’t even begin to imagine the filth she’s going to be singing with our names attached to it.” Lassiter sighed.
“It’s not like any of you have to sing along. Just dress up, play your instruments, and look dirty in a ‘I’ve been plowing and hoeing all day’ sort of way.” I cracked up more. Nobunaga and Kat joined in my revelry.
“That’s my sis for you.” Nobu said proudly.
“Hey, when we’re done, maybe you can do a bit of that with me and...” Kat was pushed away by Jules before she could even finish.
“I know just the clothes for you all, then.” Jaclyn helped us all pick out our outfits and make our way to the counter to take turns trying them on. Miri proudly took a photo of each of us for posterity. Lassiter wanted to confiscate it as evidence, but Miri, knowing her way around escapes, was able to use a smoke screen or climb up rafters in ridiculous ways each time in order to keep her camera and her precious memories intact.
We made our way back, some of us more into it than others, practicing our instruments as I wrote down something almost incomprehensible to anyone not familiar with Boontling, but definitely going to be a hit with the locals, granted they have a sense of humor. I talked the bartender into maybe using my tab to give the town a free drink or two before the concert to loosen them up enough to laugh at us. I may be dirty, but we were playing to clear ourselves permanently of murder.
The night was long but it came and went as any other. The next day was practice, as was par for the course, and night was soon to fall so we made our way to the Ulrikh Concert Hall, which was more just the inside of an old barn, but it suited us just fine. Plenty of space for us. When we got there, I tipped my cowboy hat and flung my banjo behind me, hayseed in my mouth, making it face to face with the lead singer of In Search of Bucky Walter.
Holy crap, it was the sheriff. I should have known when he wouldn’t recognize my diplomatic immunity that something was seriously up.
“So, instead of playing who shot the sheriff, we’re going to play who should be? Because you’re in my sights and I’m about to take you down for framing us. I thought you and your goons looked crooked when I got here.” I scoffed.
“Wait, our enemy is a crooked cop? Now I actually WANT at them!” Lassiter hissed.
“Oh, we’ll get our chance. If Shawn has trusted this woman this long, I say we trust her to take this guy down so you can make a heroic arrest, Lassiter.” Jules added.
“Now that just ain’t right, even for where I come from.” Cicada added. “These fair and right of folk deserve a real sense of security and happiness, so I say let’s give ‘em some.”
“Alright, sheriff, you’re in Wardancer jurisdiction now. I have the rest of my crew surrounding this place. Loser takes rap for the murders and the rest of us get to indict your sorry asses. Deal?” I looked at my band, proud of the spirit suddenly instilled in them.
“Yer going down, you sorry bunch of bloochers. You and your deejy modocker of a leader here.” The sheriff spat on the ground, pulling out an old guitar and setting up his band. He then ignored us and walked to the mic where he and his posse had gotten all set up. A cheap spotlight sat on him.
“Evening, folk, I’m your trusted high heeler, and I’m here to make these deegers beg for justice over the murders of our friends. So please, sit tight, and listen to your favorite ol’ tune of ours, ‘The Jeffers Down in the Old Dusties.’ I hope you enjoy it as you always have.”
And so they sang, sounding about as fake twangy as possible. This is what passed for music around here is a crooked sheriff noodling on a guitar aimlessly as his actual jugband washed on boards and, well, blew on jugs as they sang about sending rotten scoundrels like us to the fires of hell? Wow, talk about some ego.
But that just meant we were absolutely going to blow their fire out and see them dragged down to the Old Dusties, Bucket of Blood style, as Miri and Lina helped us set up and got our usual lights, explosions, confetti, and effects ready. Jules and Cicada took seats on old whiskey barrels, Lassiter stood between them, and me, up front, sitting in a tall saddle left on the ground, banjo in my hands and hay in my teeth, I tipped my hat to the ladies in the audience, spurs on my boots, jeans on, flannel rolled up, twintail braids done up nice, looking like the nightmare of every farmer’s daughter’s father. Because today we’re going down to the farm to tell you a tale. A song that, from Boontling, translates to that of an innocent young lesbian heading up to the local brothel to indulge.
A tale of A Modocker’s Piking up to Madge’s.
And, oh brightlighter, you’re in for a real hobneelch of a time, so get stompin’ in your cloddies and sing along:
“I’m branchin’ out and I may not come back
I’m piking up to Madge’s and her impressive rack
From molly gormin’ to mouse ears and hog’s rings too
For the right bit of higgs, there’s all her girls will do
Down ‘ere in the valley you like to hob and hoot
But you just wind up routing the kimmie to the boat
Luck be with me that I worry not about that part
With a deeger of a modocker like me that boat I’d not ark
From the deepend to the briny up to the Abbers’ home
It cost but a bucky to go to Madge’s for me to gorm
Be it molly or mate or moldune I lay with now
I go sommerset for them north valley gals
Kimmies, listen, and brightlighters hear
The applehead fall not far, to the tree it stays near
Into my lap she goes to like what she sees
‘Neath the sunnies fair full of bluegrass skee
The other deegers and bloochers here you suspect them of
Taking your girl out burlappin’ and makin’ sweet love
But it’s me, bahlness great and maiden fair
Who bends your girl o’er the end of your chair
Be you stiff hat or a sharker, I shan’t bow to you
Your girl’s gonna be a filthy modocker on now too
And we’re branchin’ out and may not come back
We’re piking up to Madge’s and her impressive rack
Once your girl has gormed on mice and hogs and mollies large
No boat could you rout your kimmie to, not even a barge
So give it up, you’ve been dreeked, so put up your dukes
And bow to me instead, the girl giving your girl them looks
The other deegers and bloochers here you suspect them of
Taking your girl out burlappin’ and makin’ sweet love
But it’s me, bahlness great and maiden fair
Who bends your girl o’er the end of your chair
From the deepend to the briny up to the Abbers’ home
It cost but a bucky to go to Madge’s for me to gorm
Be it molly or mate or moldune I lay with now
I go sommerset for them north valley gals
Be you stiff hat or a sharker, I shan’t bow to you
Your girl’s gonna be a filthy modocker on now too
And we’re branchin’ out and may not come back
We’re piking up to Madge’s and her impressive rack
We’re piking up to Madge’s and we ain’t ever coming back!”
And with that, the audience once more, erupted into applause as we tossed our hats in the air and bowed. Miri and Lina cackled at the song itself as they had confetti and fireworks shoot out from the hay bales and wheelbarrows nearby, showing us in a show of gold and silver, encouraging my band to get up and group hug, all of us looking exhausted but proud because with the power of the Wardancer at hand, I stepped up to the mic and gave one last command.
“Officers Lassiter and O’Hara, we don’t need to wait for the confirmation. Before the smoke clears, tackle those sons of bitches and arrest these insults to the law! Hey, posse, here they come, so be sure you’re ready to lay ‘em out flat for us and make our job easier. You’re under citizens arrest in the name of all Melodia, I, Atma the Wardancer, declare Ulrikh free of corruption! Yeehaw!”
And just like it would be, on cue, the sheriff and his band tried to flee, only to be met by another one of my merry band in every corner, armed with some rather nasty and rusty and tetanus filled farming implements, knocking them back into the wheelbarrows and allowing for an easy handcuffing process, where they were then hauled off and thrown into their own cells, the keys tossed into the crowd.
“Here, let them out at your discretion, but believe me, the longer they stay in, the better off you’ll be. It’s been a blast, folk, and drinks are on me back at the Bucket of Blood!”
And with all but me participating in drunken revelry, but a form of revelry nonetheless, our heroic cause in Ulrikh came to a close. Who knew what tomorrow would bring?
But for now, it was time for me to go down on the farm, if you know what I mean.
For more information on Boontling and the terminology used in this chapter, please refer to this dictionary
For a translation of the song into plain English, please read this. Be warned, it is incredibly NSFW once you understand the lyrics
Bacchanalia doesn’t even begin to describe what went on last night in Torsorhaven. Even Sexwarrior gave in after a while and joined us in a bit of hate sex, like good rivals should sometimes. If I’m not mistaken, Miri even got some snapshots of Nobunaga and I getting a little too family friendly. If even just to use as more blackmail. She just can’t get enough of that, though at this point I think she was just saving that for, well, private time later. Fucking perverts, the lot of us. Oddly enough, the two men with me didn’t join in beyond getting a couple of tall, frosty ones and eating all of the Welsh cakes and something called Tatws Popty they could eat. Apparently, Shawn and Gus were potato and starch men, not that I could blame them. Their entire diet since this journey started was somewhere between “college fratboy on a budget” and “we’re from California so we may or may not be stoned and need to make a midnight Taco Bell run.”
Not that I was much better. I enjoyed hearty helpings of Cawl stew inbetween my bedtime revelries and frothy mugs of boozey-free ciders, made from local pears and apples mixed together in a fine brew that was not only recovery healthy, but tasty as the dickens. I think one of them was flavored with cranberry, a traditional wintery flavor, though it appeared to be this was the only area on the whole map with any snow. I wasn’t complaining, though. Both gave me energy to spare as I dived right back in, not even caring who saw me in just my kilt and camisole, the only coverings the character creation process had left me with. Remember, the Wardancer was always in danger of flashing everyone her own version of Taco Tuesday anytime a strong gust appeared. Too bad it wasn’t a California Redwood; it’d fit the theme better.
But enough about what’s under my kilt, unless you’d like to know about the impressive amount of lipstick marks I collected that day. So I hadn’t slept two days and just partied another. It was a game, right? We could just quaff some potion from one of the many Jaclyn Rose supply stores and restore our HP that way. Of course, I still denied Katsuragi any action, just to give her a hard time for giving me, well, a hard time. But dawn came and that meant a hearty Gaelic breakfast, as this land was a mix of the Welsh, the Gaels, and a bit of the Norwegian area of the world. Felt like home, had I been born a few hundred years earlier. All I can say is that was a lot of bacon and eggs. Some things are just universal I guess.
But we had a mission and I’m not sure this was one of those games we could wander off on endless sidequests and delay the inevitable at unrealistic stretches. We agreed to stay around long enough to wash up, make sure all our clothes and equipment were intact, and after lunch we’d head on over to Jaclyn’s to get some HP restoring potions for the most of us and a couple MP ones for Gus, having been so kind as to cast stamina buffs on us just to get our happy, spanked asses out of bed. Gus had refused to take part in this because he was sure most of the women here would tear him in half, and Shawn said he was too committed to Jules back at home to want to give in. She’s a cop, she’d know if he copped anything like a feel here somehow, even if she never saw this world or game before in her life. They kept busy by amusing some of the more drunk women with Shawn’s psychic powers, though he refused to give out any winning lottery numbers. Not like they could get any sleep with the kind of noise we were making all night, all through the town. Branwen, at one point, asked them if they were some kind of gay, not like most of everyone else here wasn’t or something, and saying they could borrow some corner if they wanted it.
“Why’s everyone always mistaking us for a couple in this world?” Gus huffed, annoyed.
“Probably because you know we’d make a cute couple. Not that we’re gay. But if it came down to it and I had to pick a guy I could trust to be my first, well, you’d come after Val Kilmer.” Shawn laughed.
“Are we back on this joke again?”
“Well, you sound insulted there, my Chocolate Wonder of a friend. Jealous much?”
“Shut up, Shawn. I think Atma’s coming back down with the others and is about ready to head on out. And not a moment too soon, the next town better have less of...whatever this was and more restful accommodations. I can’t keep healing us forever.”
“Then why did you make yourself our Pharmacist?”
“I dunno, why did they make me, someone whom, back at home, would be singing along to stuff like Manowar, and do it poorly?” I interjected. “This game makes less and less sense every day. Now come on, let’s go get us some potions, say goodbye to the ladies, and head on out of here? According to my map, the next town is southeast of here, in what looks to be a rather striking and green valley. I think, if I’m reading it correctly, the town’s name is Ulrikh?”
“Sounds peaceful. I’m in.” Gus shot up first.
Katsuragi was being ever so attractive, adjusting her chainmail bikini and scratching her tits and ass as she yawned. “Can’t we stay here? It’s got blackjack. And hookers. In fact, forget the Demon Lord.”
Nobunaga pinched Kat by her earlobe and dragged her down the steps in one hand, guitar strapped to her back, rolling her eyes. “Come on, Lil Miss Grabs-a-lot. I’m sure once we save the world, we can come back on a return tour, but only if you parade on stage like a good bitch again.”
“Atma, your sister sucks. And not in the way I’d like.” Kat puffed her cheeks before coming up with what she thought was a witty retort. “Though I definitely saw you two doing that last night. You two really related, or is sister some kind of weird samurai term for lovers, because that’s definitely not what sisters do.”
I scowled at Katsuragi. She immediately added “Wait, no, I definitely know some back home who do worse. You should meet ‘em sometime. They’re twins even! Whatever, just so long as it’s consenting.”
Nobu cracked up in a massive burst of laughter. “You? Wanting consent? Oh, wow, joke of the fucking century here. Besides, we’re sisters-in-law, technically, so it ain’t incest if it ain’t blood related.”
“Gross.” Shawn interjected.
“You two are lucky you can’t conceive.” Gus added. “I don’t want to know what kind of medical problems your kids would have.”
“Well, if they’re in-laws, then yeah, they’re right. It’s not technically anything.” Syl added. “I’ve read it in about a few dozen of these novels here. It never pans out as the final pairing, anyways.”
“Did someone find the number of the horse-drawn-carriage that hit me?” Aryana added as she joined us for one last round of caffeine and equipment checking. “You all REALLY know how to party. I’m definitely going to enjoy sticking around you all.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet.” Miri scoffed. “If I had been in charge of pyrotechnics last night instead, you’d have seen a real show.”
“You calling my work lame?!” Lina interjected from across the room. “Why, I oughta...”
“You sure talk loud for someone so flat.” Kat snorted, earning her another sound beating.
I broke them up, saying they could either get a room and be left behind or we could go buy supplies and make our way to the valley town of Ulrikh. It would be a few days before we’d make it there, so we stocked up well on camping goods. Shawn insisted on spending most of his coin on s’mores supplies, promising he brought enough for the whole class. Katsuragi managed to find a few adult publications in this world, though most of them were text with Polaroid level photos, it was still better than nothing. I just made sure that Aryana and Nobunaga and Lina could keep us in food since, for once, I was completely useless on a melee front. I tried lifting a sword and it felt like it weighed of the whole world. I couldn’t believe it. And I don’t think game animals die from hearing Scottish traveling tunes.
One thing all of us did have was enough stories to tell across the campfire as we settled in each evening along the way to Ulrikh. Syl mostly read from her new book, Tales of Radiant Symphoniabyss X 2: The Berseriestriaing of Innocence, though that was mostly to titblock Katsuragi from reading the personals section of her Ye Olde Playboye or whatever it is she bought now. Lina and Nobu found common ground burning shit by cooking us dinner of a massive boar and some root vegetables they found. That’s some damn tasty roast, y’all. I noodled out a few strings on my biwa and sang Siofra’s ballad again, and when it wasn’t my turn, I’d play my pipes on low as background noise.
Eventually, dawn came, all of us waking up at various rates, wondering just when we passed out. We were just outside Ulrikh at this point and could be there in time for a good mid-morning breakfast, finding ourselves treading upon a land rich in vineyards and traditional looking wood buildings. It reminded me of my homeland so much, but at the same time, it felt older, somehow, like someone had gone to Wine Country and rebuilt it in an old west aesthetic. Something told me things were about to get a little more country and a little less rock n’ roll.
I already knew what the guards were going to say so I just said “Open the damn barn door, man” at the first guard I saw. He looked like a cross between a ranch hand and an outlaw cowboy. We heard the usual guard blather as we walked on in and started looking whatever would possibly be the local lord’s office. Or in this case, the sheriff? What’s the old west equivalent of a warlord, anyways.
As usual, I told everyone to go wait at the inn. Or tavern. Or whatever this place had. We stumbled upon one called Bucket of Blood. Now where had I heard that one before? It wasn’t coming to me quite yet so I just let my group be and found the main sheriff’s offices, his posse and him sitting around and playing some card game, throwing poker chips in the middle, feet on the table. They honestly looked more like a bandit gang than any kind of law enforcement, but hey, had to trust the badge. Not that I usually do, but maybe things are different in Melodia. I cleared my throat and interrupted their game, watching a few of them get close to their weapons.
“Hey there, brightlighter. What has you piking out to Ulrikh?” The main one asked.
Oh, dear gods, they were speaking Boontling. For those that don’t know, back home, that’s my local and almost extinct argot. I grew up listening to some of it so I taught myself it and became fluent to help preserve it. That’s explain the local inn’s name. I decided to respond in kind.
“Nice dissies, high heeler. I see you dicking these kimmies around.” I grinned, having accused an arresting officer of cheating these fellows out of their money. “Well, this ‘ere modocker and her crew have come out here to see if we can’t train to beat the Demon Lord in a musical sharkin’ match. You may’ve heard of me as the Wardancer, and I swear on my life, I’m one heck of a stiff hat when it comes to this musical thingamajig.”
“Ahh, my boys, she’s finally come around. Now, why don’t we get straight to the point. I see you can boont, but are you a real singing bearman, or are you just a plain ol’ bloocher?”
“Yeah, yeah, I got proof. Why don’t y’all sit real tight and I’ll prove I’m no hood, and neither are my kin?”
If you couldn’t tell by our tone, we just bantered a bit, and they wanted the usual proof, and I was willing to give it to them. I pulled out my biwa and tuned it a bit to sound a bit more country, even if it was Japanese country, and began to belt out my usual tune, changing just a few words to Boontling in verse to get them really into it. It’s pretty funny to convince them that Siofra was a good ol’ fashioned burlapper rather than a regular ol’ slut. Fyrshala, goddess of burlappers. I’d have to remember that one for later.
As usual, we got a hearty, warm welcome and a promise this time of not only free room and board, but that anything involving us in a bar fight would be rightfully excused. I’m sure we were going to need that. If not me, then someone in my party was bound to get in it with someone sloshed. Probably Katsuragi again, hitting on the waitress. Boonters don’t take as kindly to direct flirts.
I bowed to them and walked out triumphantly, getting some odd looks from the locals. Ain’t they ever seen a woman in a kilt before? Or a poofy hat? I was pretty sure any second now some band would waltz in and demand our attention and we’d have to go get dressed up and sing some nitty gritty redneck jugband bluegrass country shenanigans anyways; the pattern of behavior here was getting increasingly obvious.
I walked into the Bucket of Blood and took a seat, looking a bit pensive as I ordered a root beer and sipped from it slowly, as if it were the real deal. Eventually, someone broke the silence and asked me what was up.
“Okay, it’s not like you to be this sullen once you get back from convincing the town you’re the hero. What’s up, sis?” Nobu asked, hand on my shoulder.
“Well, for one thing, it’s just a bit quiet and leery around here, and not leery in the way Kat likes to look at women. This is a ‘She Dresses Funny’ kind of leery.” I sighed. “The other thing is I’m gonna have to play translator for y’all. Pardon me but there’s something you don’t quite all know yet about this filthy modocker.”
“Filthy...what?” Kat asked. “I mean, yeah you’re a dirty girl, but not in---”
“No, you damn brightlighter. They all speak in Boontling here. It’s an almost extinct language born back where I live and it’s going to make me sound redneck as hell, well...” I hesitated a moment. “Probably because I am one, y’all, born and raised into it. So when I call all y’all brightlighters, I’m just saying y’all don’t boont, which means to speak it. And by modocker, I mean I just said I’m gay.”
“O-oh my gods...” Kat started to crack up. “S-so you’re saying it’s like some kind of California Kansai or something? You sound hilarious.”
“This is how I normally talk, you nitwit molly gormer. I just know if and when to use it.”
“I don’t know what you called me, but I assume it was something good and cool.”
“’Fraid not, ma’am.” A new voice shot up from another table. I looked up and an elf in impressive armor was addressing us. “You probably don’t want to know.”
“D-Do I know you, kimmie?” I asked.
“Sort of, ma’am. If the name Cicada means anything to you, and by willing, it should.”
“...You’re another one of my good friend’s avatars here, huh? I can tell by the accent and the fact y’all only got one leg. Y’all get sucked in and just scattered about like rare artifacts for me to find and assemble or what?”
“He figured this form’d be easier to get by in a world like this with.”
“Okay, don’t worry everyone, I know him. He’s cool.”
“Finally, another guy.” Shawn laughed. “I mean, not that these women here aren’t excellent wingmen in and of themselves, but you know how it goes. I suppose this means since you know our hero here, you have to join her band.”
I was about to nod and agree to the whole thing and just ask Cicada his job class and musical specialty when I was interrupted by a loud few hacking and bashing sounds and screams. We all paused and turned to the dark corner of the Bucket of Blood and found out why it had that name; a man, in an impressive set of chaps and a rather nice hat, lay in his own blood, dead, chaps essentially ruined for the pilfering. His head was bashed in and there law a few deep gashes in his back, meaning the shirt was especially ruined. Whomever did this was either doing it as a regular murder or they felt a crime of fashion was taking place. Who knew fashion police existed in MMOs? Wouldn’t we all be arrested if that were the case?
“Well, shit.” Lina interjected. “Think he’s got anything in his wallet?”
“Let’s go look. I’ll split it fifty-fifty with you.” Miri added.
“Deal.”
Just as the two explosive little firecrackers went to go and pilfer the poor dead man, we heard the swinging doors of the Bucket of Blood get kicked down and the distinct sound of a blackpowder rifle being drawn out and two equally archaic pistols being loaded and locked, the figures wearing hooded capes over their faces, followed by the voices wielding them screaming “Freeze, scumbags!”
We all put our hands up in the air. I mean, we were thinking about using a dead man’s earnings to get us a free meal, but the only one here who is actually guilty of anything would just be Katsuragi and her nasty little groping habit. The rest of us? Just guilty of being damn good looking.
“Tch. The fuzz works fast around here, don’t they?” Nobu asked nobody, annoyed that we were caught this off guard this quick.
“It’s okay, don’t worry, Atma’s inexplicably historically important sister, back home I work with the police department and--” Shawn was cut off by one of the two voices pointing the guns at us. If I couldn’t use swords and they didn’t reliably stop guns, no way was I letting my instruments take a shot.
Not like that, you perv.
“Spencer? What the hell are you doing….You know what, I’m not even going to ask at this rate. This shouldn’t even be possible, like every other time you show up to ruin something.” The voice scowled at us.
“Oh, Lassie! I was wondering when you’d join us. You know, your singing voice is amazing, you should totally join us; remember when we did that to take down that playwright only it wasn’t him and then Yang...”
“Can it, Spencer. I’ve heard all your work and there’s no way I’m joining anything involving you, Guster, and some weird bard in a kilt and her even weirder harem.”
“Wait, Lassiter...” The other hooded figure unveiled herself, lowering her rifle. “That is Shawn and Gus, isn’t it? And, well, others.”
“Jules? You’re here too? Even better! We could use some backup dancers against this Demon Lord guy we’ve been investigating and...”
Of course it was more people that shouldn’t be here. Three in one day. Excellent.
“Wait, that’s the girlfriend you had me cosplay when we were your boy band?” Kat looked Jules over, giving her a sly wink and a finger gun.
“You had...whatever this barbarian is dress as me?” Jules yelled at Shawn, attention back on Kat, gun back up. “You, though, hands back up. One more inappropriate comment and I’ll make sure a harassment record goes home with you.”
“Holy shit, I see why you like her now.”
“Thanks for noticing me. By the way, the name’s Atma the Wardancer, and I’m this world’s last hope, so uh, I’m pretty sure I get diplomatic immunity on this one and call so for the rest of my group.” I knew it wouldn’t work but it was worth a shot. “Ask the sheriff if you don’t believe me.”
“You know what? I think I will. Hero or not, you’re all going down to the sheriff’s place for fingerprinting and the best DNA testing we can muster in this place. Guster, if you help us out with that, we’ll let you go first, you’re the last person I’d suspect here.”
“Thank you, Lassie.” Gus said, half thankful, half sarcastic.
With that, we were all cuffed, saved Cicada, who was lead graciously to the station by Jules supporting him on his de-legged side. Katsuragi just rolled her eyes, wishing that was her instead. We all filed into the sheriff’s office where he gave us all a puzzled look. “I thought y’all was heroes or something?”
“We are, this is just a wrongful arrest. Tell him I at least get diplomatic immunity. We were just all in the Bucket of Blood at the wrong time’s all.” I snarled a bit.
“Well, here in Ulrikh, we jus’ wanna make sure you still ain’t secretly no brightlighter. You boont well and sang the song, but let’s get you on record, just in case.”
Oh, you had to be kidding me. I had a Demon Lord to slay and we were being detained by Juliet O’Hara and Carlton Lassiter in a shady Sheriff’s shack in some old west version of my homeland. I bet they were eating this up. At least Lassiter would be. I waited through the long process of them using some sort of magic paper to fingerprint us and we had various fluids drained and hairs plucked to be analyzed in some magic container I couldn’t figure out how it was possible, but this game hasn’t made sense since day one, so why would it start making sense now?
It felt like an eternity, much like some kind of medieval or renaissance version of sitting in line at the DMV, but eventually Jules came back and smiled at us, a folder in her hand.
“Well, the good news is none of your DNA or anything matches what was found on the body at the...Bucket of Blood. I still can’t believe that’s that places real name.” She began, flipping through her papers. “But, well, our results turned up something...interesting, to put it mildly. You all might want to sit down for this one, especially Shawn and Katsuragi, it pains me to say.”
“Hey, she can pronounce my name, why you always calling me Red Sonja then, whitey?” Kat huffed.
“Gee, maybe because it’s her job to be professional, and the most Japanese I know comes from ordering lunch and reruns of things like Zatoichi?” Shawn responded, putting his feet on the table.
“We couldn’t believe this at first either, but well, your interaction just now proves it.” Jules sighed. “Believe me when I say I don’t want this to be true, either, but Kat, you may want to stop calling Shawn white, or whatever.”
“Why’s that? Look at him, he looks like he suntans by looking at photos of the sun on his laptop or something.” Kat pounded her fist on the table. “I want answers! Out with it!”
“Well, okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Just tell them they’re long lost siblings already. Geeze, O’Hara. It’s not like it’ll kill you to---” Lassiter interjected, Jules giving him a horrible, angry look. “Oh. Yeah. Maybe you should have been the one to say it.”
“Whaaaaat?” Kat and Shawn said at the same time, looking at each other, sort of making the same gestures at one another, as if looking in a mirror.
“There’s no way that’s right. How is this even possible? Is anyone else around here secretly someone’s sister? How’s about the sorceress and Lassie, they both love to blow stuff up. What about the new legless elf and the Harpy loving one? Are they related? It’s the ears giving it away for me, man.” Shawn scowled.
“Don’t make me test how right you are on you, hair boy!” Lina shouted from afar.
“I’m pretty sure that elf comment constitutes some kind of racism, but I couldn’t be arsed to figure out what exact law that’d be breaking, if any in this world.” Aryana added.
“Wait, this means if you two get married, that’d make Jules my sister-in-law, and then that’d….I think legally that’s still okay so nevermind.” Kat leaned back, looking pretty exhausted. Not that we could blame her.
“Hahaha! It totally makes sense though! They’re both hopeless, dorky, blondes who make quips about everything, have perfectly poofy hair, and deflect everything with bad humor!” Nobu cackled, doubling over and laughing so hard we thought she might spew. “Oh, this is too rich.”
“I’ll show you rich, young lady.” Kat glared.
“Yeah, what she said. Suck it, Nobu.” Shawn laughed.
“Yeah Nobu, suck it.”
Then they both burst out in a chorus together, singing “Suuuuuuck iiiiit” as loudly as they could. That was it, that was all the proof we needed that Jules wasn’t making anything up.
“So, back to business. We can have a tearful family reunion later. But for now, we should work on who actually did this.” replied Miri. She was right.
Just then, much like in Adoch, a note was slipped under the door. Well, rather nailed to it. I went out and retrieved it. It merely read “Return to the Bucket of Blood if you want to see what you all are up against, or your merry little group is next.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I left the office and made my way towards the tavern, finding another poor dead fellow with a note pinned to his leather vest, written in what was probably blood. I’d say good thing MMOs don’t have plagues or diseases transferred by blood, but I’m pretty sure that actually happened once. When I turned around, I saw my group behind me, along with Jules and Lassiter, looking concerned. Or as much as some of them could.
“It’s another challenge. This time by the band ‘In Search of Bucky Walter’. Oh, so we’re going to play it this way.” I showed the two cops the note. “It’s local slang, Boontling if you will, for ‘Go Find a Payphone and Call Someone Who Cares.’ Well, sort of. It’s a weird language.”
“So a bunch of thugs who have murdered twice in our presence named themselves after a playground insult?” Lassiter growled. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“No, sir. You can trust any of us. It’s been a weird adventure, but this is just par for the course for us. I’m gonna need three of you with me to help me take them down. Miri, you and Lina team up on pyrotechnics for this one. Kat, I’m gonna need you as bouncer, because I have me an idea.” I grinned. “And because I’m the hero around here, you all get to follow my commands to a T. I’m the hero of Melodia, the Wardancer, and if you want to take down a bunch of Boontling speaking thugs, then there’s really only one option we have.”
“The spirits are telling me you’re up to something devious, aren’t you, oh queen of the California hillbillies?” Shawn laughed.
“You better believe it.”
I looked over at our two new cop buddies and got a mischievous grin on my face. “Okay, my turn for interrogations. You and elf boy gather round the table. If you want any chance of ever getting home, or at least arresting these sons of bitches, follow my lead. I know what I’ve been doing so far. I’m going to need your names, job classes, and musical specialties about now.”
You could tell really only Cicada was into it, because any chance to show off a bit was a good one, and what was more fun than singing in a genuine gritty jugband? O’Hara looked frustrated, but understanding of the whole thing. Lassiter looked like someone just shot him, but agreed they really had no other options or leads at this point.
What’s the first item of business when a band calls us out? Y’all should know at this point. We needed a name, a theme, an identity. Costumes that made us look more ridiculous than our default outfits. We debated putting on Claire’s pink and white outfit we won from the Electric Dojo Goths on Lassiter and claiming he was a bar wench, but we know the man was already going through enough. At least, if nothing else, I knew he respected old west law. We were going up against outlaws, and the only way to beat them is to be grosser and cruder than them at all possible turns. I was getting ideas and my gears were turning. For once, I agreed we’d all need costumes to keep with the theme, and so we’d stop getting stared at by the locals.
That, and let’s be real, I kind of just wanted to see all the women I’d collected in daisy dukes and cowboy hats and flannel tied under their chests and, wait, I was getting way ahead of myself. But that wasn’t a bad idea. But me, being the Wardancer and all, would be spared that kind of humiliation. I’m the hero, after all, which means I get the coolest looking armor by default. All your end game stuff, at least, was going to look the best. And if you shared equipment sets with someone else, you were bound to pull it off just a bit nicer. It’s the law of video games. Or at least a law of fashion.
“Let’s get to work, brightlighters.”
I checked their applications first and foremost to see where to best utilize them. Cicada turned in a very nice application, albeit with quite the detailed story of how he lost his leg, which would be entertaining night chatter in and of itself, but we only had our usual day to prepare, so we’d save it for the afterparty, since like hell I’m gonna lose to someone who thinks they can pin a damn crime on me. His job class? Hotdishin’ It Out. I suppose that’s what happens when you’re an elf that sounds like you come from Minnesota, somehow. Weirder things have definitely happened so far on this adventure, like, oh, everything. He could get a sweet accordion out of this.
O’Hara turned hers in and she also had a sense of humor. Her bio was briefer but her job class was Miami Heat, and Shawn and I laughed at that one a good while. At least someone decided to have fun with the fate she had been served up in this world. A fiddle would work well for her, I thought.
Lassiter? His just had his basic vitals and a job class listed as “Head Detective.” Seriously, dude? Had you no imagination? This made my job easier, though, because it came time to pick out instruments and I decided to assign him a musical saw. The mental image of him trying to work one would be absolutely hilarious.
Me? I’d be on the banjo, because if I’m gonna be stuck on string instruments, I may as well go for the most truly redneck of them all as our intrepid leader. Our first stop would be wherever the local Jaclyn Rose outfitters was. I imagine the one in this place would have some rather dandy period costumes for us. If nothing else, we’d at least look a bit more country. I picked up my whole band and we walked on over, me adjusting my kilt and leaning over the counter, plenty of coin still in my sporran.
“Good day, Jaclyn. You don’t know me, but I know plenty of you. I’m Atma the Wardancer, and me and my group here are looking for something to, well, make us fit in a bit more. We got a big show against In Search of Bucky Walter tomorrow night and I want us to look our best.” I pulled up Cicada, Lassiter, and Jules and put my arms around them all, grinning wide. “Especially us. We’re the core group. The rest will be our lookout posse. Just make them look dirty, the blonde in the chainmail bikini most of all, if you could. Us? We could use a bit more class.”
“Oh ho, my cousins told me you’d be by, so please, take your time. And what shall we be calling your group, oh mighty hero?” Jaclyn giggled as she waved her fan in her face.
“I already thought of a name on the way over, milady.” I took my hat off and held it to my chest, looking proud. “So long as we’re in Ulrikh, we’ll be known as Routing the Kimmie to the Boat.”
This Rose turned as red as her name as she heard that. “My my, how scandalous.”
“What in God’s name did you name us, woman?” Lassiter scowled.
“Can’t be any worse than Sex Cavalry.” Shawn snickered.
“You got that right.” Gus added, looking at a fancy array of hats.
“It means you knocked a woman up. I figured I’d keep the whole scandalous, lovable pervert with a groupie harem theme going and all.” I tried my best not to laugh.
“Oh, man, that is way worse than Sex Cavalry. Somehow, I now like that name. Good luck with that one, Lassie.” Shawn pat him on the shoulder, laughing as he walked off. “Heh, Sex Cavalry.”
“Sex Cavalry?” Jules asked, staring at me.
“I thought you said you heard all our music by now.” I replied.
“Yes, but it’s not like we had a Best Of CD with track names or band names. Which one was this one?”
“Our Boy Band. The one Shawn dressed Kat over there up as you to act as our manager to help us sneak in as they disguised me as a man. You would know us from our one and only hit single, or even song ever, Chivalry Isn’t Dead.”
“Oh dear god, it was that one. I can’t even begin to imagine the filth she’s going to be singing with our names attached to it.” Lassiter sighed.
“It’s not like any of you have to sing along. Just dress up, play your instruments, and look dirty in a ‘I’ve been plowing and hoeing all day’ sort of way.” I cracked up more. Nobunaga and Kat joined in my revelry.
“That’s my sis for you.” Nobu said proudly.
“Hey, when we’re done, maybe you can do a bit of that with me and...” Kat was pushed away by Jules before she could even finish.
“I know just the clothes for you all, then.” Jaclyn helped us all pick out our outfits and make our way to the counter to take turns trying them on. Miri proudly took a photo of each of us for posterity. Lassiter wanted to confiscate it as evidence, but Miri, knowing her way around escapes, was able to use a smoke screen or climb up rafters in ridiculous ways each time in order to keep her camera and her precious memories intact.
We made our way back, some of us more into it than others, practicing our instruments as I wrote down something almost incomprehensible to anyone not familiar with Boontling, but definitely going to be a hit with the locals, granted they have a sense of humor. I talked the bartender into maybe using my tab to give the town a free drink or two before the concert to loosen them up enough to laugh at us. I may be dirty, but we were playing to clear ourselves permanently of murder.
The night was long but it came and went as any other. The next day was practice, as was par for the course, and night was soon to fall so we made our way to the Ulrikh Concert Hall, which was more just the inside of an old barn, but it suited us just fine. Plenty of space for us. When we got there, I tipped my cowboy hat and flung my banjo behind me, hayseed in my mouth, making it face to face with the lead singer of In Search of Bucky Walter.
Holy crap, it was the sheriff. I should have known when he wouldn’t recognize my diplomatic immunity that something was seriously up.
“So, instead of playing who shot the sheriff, we’re going to play who should be? Because you’re in my sights and I’m about to take you down for framing us. I thought you and your goons looked crooked when I got here.” I scoffed.
“Wait, our enemy is a crooked cop? Now I actually WANT at them!” Lassiter hissed.
“Oh, we’ll get our chance. If Shawn has trusted this woman this long, I say we trust her to take this guy down so you can make a heroic arrest, Lassiter.” Jules added.
“Now that just ain’t right, even for where I come from.” Cicada added. “These fair and right of folk deserve a real sense of security and happiness, so I say let’s give ‘em some.”
“Alright, sheriff, you’re in Wardancer jurisdiction now. I have the rest of my crew surrounding this place. Loser takes rap for the murders and the rest of us get to indict your sorry asses. Deal?” I looked at my band, proud of the spirit suddenly instilled in them.
“Yer going down, you sorry bunch of bloochers. You and your deejy modocker of a leader here.” The sheriff spat on the ground, pulling out an old guitar and setting up his band. He then ignored us and walked to the mic where he and his posse had gotten all set up. A cheap spotlight sat on him.
“Evening, folk, I’m your trusted high heeler, and I’m here to make these deegers beg for justice over the murders of our friends. So please, sit tight, and listen to your favorite ol’ tune of ours, ‘The Jeffers Down in the Old Dusties.’ I hope you enjoy it as you always have.”
And so they sang, sounding about as fake twangy as possible. This is what passed for music around here is a crooked sheriff noodling on a guitar aimlessly as his actual jugband washed on boards and, well, blew on jugs as they sang about sending rotten scoundrels like us to the fires of hell? Wow, talk about some ego.
But that just meant we were absolutely going to blow their fire out and see them dragged down to the Old Dusties, Bucket of Blood style, as Miri and Lina helped us set up and got our usual lights, explosions, confetti, and effects ready. Jules and Cicada took seats on old whiskey barrels, Lassiter stood between them, and me, up front, sitting in a tall saddle left on the ground, banjo in my hands and hay in my teeth, I tipped my hat to the ladies in the audience, spurs on my boots, jeans on, flannel rolled up, twintail braids done up nice, looking like the nightmare of every farmer’s daughter’s father. Because today we’re going down to the farm to tell you a tale. A song that, from Boontling, translates to that of an innocent young lesbian heading up to the local brothel to indulge.
A tale of A Modocker’s Piking up to Madge’s.
And, oh brightlighter, you’re in for a real hobneelch of a time, so get stompin’ in your cloddies and sing along:
“I’m branchin’ out and I may not come back
I’m piking up to Madge’s and her impressive rack
From molly gormin’ to mouse ears and hog’s rings too
For the right bit of higgs, there’s all her girls will do
Down ‘ere in the valley you like to hob and hoot
But you just wind up routing the kimmie to the boat
Luck be with me that I worry not about that part
With a deeger of a modocker like me that boat I’d not ark
From the deepend to the briny up to the Abbers’ home
It cost but a bucky to go to Madge’s for me to gorm
Be it molly or mate or moldune I lay with now
I go sommerset for them north valley gals
Kimmies, listen, and brightlighters hear
The applehead fall not far, to the tree it stays near
Into my lap she goes to like what she sees
‘Neath the sunnies fair full of bluegrass skee
The other deegers and bloochers here you suspect them of
Taking your girl out burlappin’ and makin’ sweet love
But it’s me, bahlness great and maiden fair
Who bends your girl o’er the end of your chair
Be you stiff hat or a sharker, I shan’t bow to you
Your girl’s gonna be a filthy modocker on now too
And we’re branchin’ out and may not come back
We’re piking up to Madge’s and her impressive rack
Once your girl has gormed on mice and hogs and mollies large
No boat could you rout your kimmie to, not even a barge
So give it up, you’ve been dreeked, so put up your dukes
And bow to me instead, the girl giving your girl them looks
The other deegers and bloochers here you suspect them of
Taking your girl out burlappin’ and makin’ sweet love
But it’s me, bahlness great and maiden fair
Who bends your girl o’er the end of your chair
From the deepend to the briny up to the Abbers’ home
It cost but a bucky to go to Madge’s for me to gorm
Be it molly or mate or moldune I lay with now
I go sommerset for them north valley gals
Be you stiff hat or a sharker, I shan’t bow to you
Your girl’s gonna be a filthy modocker on now too
And we’re branchin’ out and may not come back
We’re piking up to Madge’s and her impressive rack
We’re piking up to Madge’s and we ain’t ever coming back!”
And with that, the audience once more, erupted into applause as we tossed our hats in the air and bowed. Miri and Lina cackled at the song itself as they had confetti and fireworks shoot out from the hay bales and wheelbarrows nearby, showing us in a show of gold and silver, encouraging my band to get up and group hug, all of us looking exhausted but proud because with the power of the Wardancer at hand, I stepped up to the mic and gave one last command.
“Officers Lassiter and O’Hara, we don’t need to wait for the confirmation. Before the smoke clears, tackle those sons of bitches and arrest these insults to the law! Hey, posse, here they come, so be sure you’re ready to lay ‘em out flat for us and make our job easier. You’re under citizens arrest in the name of all Melodia, I, Atma the Wardancer, declare Ulrikh free of corruption! Yeehaw!”
And just like it would be, on cue, the sheriff and his band tried to flee, only to be met by another one of my merry band in every corner, armed with some rather nasty and rusty and tetanus filled farming implements, knocking them back into the wheelbarrows and allowing for an easy handcuffing process, where they were then hauled off and thrown into their own cells, the keys tossed into the crowd.
“Here, let them out at your discretion, but believe me, the longer they stay in, the better off you’ll be. It’s been a blast, folk, and drinks are on me back at the Bucket of Blood!”
And with all but me participating in drunken revelry, but a form of revelry nonetheless, our heroic cause in Ulrikh came to a close. Who knew what tomorrow would bring?
But for now, it was time for me to go down on the farm, if you know what I mean.