Book 8, chapters 58 and 59 (Patreon)

Hello everyone. Thank you for you continued support. Thanks to everyone who came out last Saturday to Tacoma. I'll see more of you this upcoming weekend in Monroe!

A quick note about chapter 58. Using song lyrics in text is a complicated thing, and since I pretty much have the whole song in here, it requires permissions, especially since we would basically have to have it as a performance in the audio book. We are currently in the process of seeking permission to use the lyrics, but that might not happen. If it DOESN'T, another version of the chapter will be used.

Chapter 58

All hell broke loose in the bar.

The music continued. The gauges remained, ready to judge our performance. Half the crowd continued to bounce and cheer, but the other half were suddenly beating the shit out of each other.

I exchanged a look with Donut. We didn’t have a choice. We had to sing the song. With the DJ dead, this would be our only chance.   

“You killed Lucienne!” Dwight roared drunkenly at me and Donut, the dead gremlin still attached to his twinkling horn. “You killed her, and I’m going to stab you in the fucking spleen!” He whipped his head, and the corpse sailed across the bar.

But Dwight was drunk, and his aim was off. Instead of hitting me or Donut, the dead gremlin slammed into Yuto, the large, red demon from Team Yokai. The gremlin exploded like a jar of salsa against the demon’s chest, who roared indignantly. The oni swung a fist at the unicorn, who wasn’t even close, and instead connected with some scarecrow monster, who blasted into a spray of glittering straw. His two partners, also scarecrows, turned on the red demon and attacked. The Minister of Blood-Letting and his skeletons jumped into the fray, defending their Yokai friends.

That idiot unicorn was going to get himself killed. We couldn’t let that happen. Not here in the bar. Not yet. We needed him to live until at least the next heat started, but then it was time to sing, and I couldn’t think about anything else.

“We're talking away,” I sang, starting the song. I ducked as a bottle flew through the crowd. It sailed over my head and exploded against the curtained wall, spraying the back of my head with glass and cold beer. “I don't know what I'm to say... I’ll say it anyway!”

A gremlin fighting a draconian bowled onto stage, rolling toward Donut. I kicked them both, sending them away before they could crash into her.

“Today is another day to find you...” Another bottle crashed against my chest. “Shyin' away.”

Dong Quixote was suddenly in the middle of the crowd, swinging his gigantic nickel sock over his head, clearing the stage in front of us, howling at the top of his lungs.

“Oh, I'll be comin' for your love, okay.” I looked down at Donut, who sat poised at the microphone. It was time for the chorus.

“Take on meeeee!” I sang.

“Take on meeeee!” Donut echoed, singing her part, her autotuned voice high and, thankfully, in-key. The sound pierced through the chaos like a knife. She shot a low-powered Magic Missile, and it blew an axe out of the hand of a draconian who was about to sink it into the back of Dong’s head.

“Take meee onnnn!” I continued.

“Take on me!”   

“I’lllll beeee gone, in a day or twoooooo!” I cried, hitting the extra-high note.

There was a chime from the performance gauge floating by my head, and digital sparkles showered off it.

Half the crowd stopped fighting at that. I caught eyes with Florin, who’d stopped dead in mid-punch. He looked at me and mouthed, “Wow.”

Both of our performance gauges were buried to the right, all the way in the green, though mine now had little flames coming out of the top. I hoped that was a good sign.

We moved into the next verse. From across the bar, I could see Mongo was finally starting to realize there was a real fight going on and let out an ear-piercing screech. He leapt from the table and sailed across the bar, landing in the midst of it all, turning and screaming, knocking people over left and right with his tail. This also almost took out Donut’s microphone stand, but I caught it with my foot, grabbing it between my big and index toe just as we hit the second chorus.

A group dogpiled Dwight, but Imani moved in and slammed a potion against the ass of the unicorn, causing him to drop unconscious. Louis, Britney, and Bautista surrounded the passed-out unicorn, protecting him while Imani moved to the Yokai/scarecrow fight in an attempt to keep them from murdering each other. Every team that died in the bar meant another crawler-on-crawler matchup, so we had to protect them all the best we could, no matter how much we wanted to murder all of them.

We hit the middle part of the song, which was mostly music. Donut cast Ice Slick on the dancefloor, causing a group of fighting NPCs to go spinning and crash against the bar. Prepotente was there at the bar, seemingly ignoring the fight. The bartender wasn’t back there anymore, having jumped over the counter with a club, on his way to kill Dwight.

The goat was bent all the way over the now-unattended bar, his hooved feet dangling as he rummaged behind the counter. He let out a loud yelp when the group of combatants slammed into him, causing him to flip and disappear with a clatter.   

A fairy creature I’d never seen before tossed a miniature fireball at Imani’s head. Imani ducked, and the fireball hit the curtains at the back of the stage, which immediately went right up.

Oh, fuck!

I, still singing the last chorus, still with Donut’s microphone stand held aloft with my toes, bounced forward off the stage to keep myself from catching on fire. The flames spread to the ceiling.

The fairy moved to fire a second mini fireball, but she disappeared with a cry as Mongo bit her out of the air. The dinosaur screeched and belched out a puff of smoke. 

Donut, pretending like this was all part of the show, stood on her two back legs and hopped down, following the microphone.

A mantis-like creature sliced at Dong, and he countered with his enormous sock. The mantis went flying, but not before she tore a hole in the weapon, which caused coins to fly everywhere. One pinged right off my forehead. They were nickels, I saw. All of them, even though he’d been putting actual gold pieces in there.

Still, seeing that there was now money all over the dance floor, those who hadn’t been fighting pounced, jumping into the skirmish, grabbing handfuls of the coins.

The real version of this song faded away, but the karaoke version seemed to go on and on. Just one more time.

“I’lllll beeee gone, in a daaaaaaay,” I sang, hitting the long note as digital fireworks exploded around the gauge, mixing in with the real fire that was quickly crawling across the ceiling of the bar.

Donut only had one more line.

“Take me... arggggggg!”

She cried out as Dekoki the kappa, paralyzed, fell backward right into her. The saran wrap around the kappa’s head was peeled back, and the water in the creature’s bowl head had spilled, which caused the monster to freeze up.

And then it was over.

Above, the twin screens sparked as they caught aflame. Louis was there, spraying something out of his hands, stopping the fire. And Britney, too, a drink in one hand, was also putting out the fire as most of the NPCs fled. 

 I dropped the microphone to the ground. There was a blare of feedback and then the DJ booth exploded in sparks, and the sound went out.     

Congratulations, Carl. You have been granted permanent access to the Stage Performance Guild!

New Achievement! Sing for your supper!

You’re a proper musician! You sang something, and you’ve been rewarded for it. The next thing you know you’ll be earning a third of a cent per stream on Spotify and bragging to your friends and family and fellow coworkers at the job site that you’re a “professional.”

You have discovered a task-based guild by completing the entrance exam. 

Reward: From now on, hidden guilds with entrance requirements will appear on your map if you are in close proximity.

The secret door in the side bar started to glow and pulse. This was on the one wall that hadn’t been scorched. 

Donut had FAILED over her head. She huffed indignantly, beer dripping off her. Mongo was there, licking it up, waving his wings excitedly.

“Shit,” I said, seeing the sign over Donut. “I guess I gotta do this myself.” 

“We are never going to mention this again,” she said. But then she added, “I do love that song, though.”   

<Entry from Carl’s Book of Boom.>

Chipo Dube. Crawler #4,925,601.

Race: Human.

Class: Wet Warden.

Final level: 64.

Blessings to you, Carl. I do not have much to say. I pray for your continued safety. I pray that you and the good Princess Donut are taking the time to appreciate the small moments. We are so overwhelmed with the constant fighting, the constant death, the neverending pain and loss, and I worry that it is too much for one soul to bear.

It was too much for me. I am not ashamed that I am stopping my fight for I have been fighting my whole life, and I am so, so tired. I am 65 years old. I gave birth to 11 children, all of whom are dead. I have buried three husbands. I am done with this world.

But you are not, and thus I give my favorite spell to you.

I used this much during Faction Wars. Nothing instills fear in an enemy better than electric eel chomping on their neck, electrocuting them.

Drawing: A picture of an eel

Associated Spell: Summon Overclocked Eels. Casts at level 12. 

Chapter 59

The bartender, crying, scooped up a few handfuls of the dead DJ and rushed outside.

The others all started grabbing nickels and were helping Dong put them back in the sock, though dozens of NPCs had grabbed some and ran. There was a nasty tear in the fabric of the sock, but it was mending itself. The sock, however, didn’t seem to be going back to its giant size, no matter how many nickels people put back in. The coins were absolutely everywhere.

I called Splash Zone to help, but he didn’t answer. He and the others were still in the Desperado Club, so I had Tipid run over. He and Bucket Boy grabbed the still-unconscious unicorn and lugged him back toward his garage before the bartender could gather some friends.

The bar stank like smoke, and I didn’t know if we were going to get kicked out, so we had to do this quickly. Prepotente was in the middle of raiding the bar while Dong, the skeletons from the Bleak Congregation, and a few of the other regulars finished cleaning up the nickels.

I eyed Dong warily.  

Carl: I gotta read the room first, but I don’t want Dong screwing this up. If I say the word, you gotta get him out of here.

Imani: I’ll keep an eye on him.

Donut sat sullenly on the edge of the stage, a sour expression planted on her face. Mongo was snuffling about the bar, occasionally licking random puddles of blood and beer and gremlin guts. He had straw all over his face from where he’d bitten one of the scarecrows. Dekoki the kappa had regained the ability to move after the Minister of Blood-Letting poured a beer into her head bowl, and Louis was helping her reapply her saran wrap as she profusely apologized to Donut. She’d been knocked over when people lunged for the coins.  

I spied Jurgen trying to come speak with me, but Florin held him back. That likely had something to do with Lucia Mar. I held up a finger, telling him I’d talk to him soon. “I’ll get back as soon as I can,” I called, moving for the door to the guild.

“No,” Jurgen said, moving out of Florin’s grip. “I will join you in the guild.”

“You can’t enter the guild,” I said, pulling the door open. My voice was still high-pitched. I moved into a menu, and it wouldn’t let me turn it off, but it was about to time out. I coughed a few times, waiting for it to clear. “Look, this is important, too. We need this if we want to deal with the problem with the kids.”

Jurgen was stopped at the entrance like he’d hit a brick wall. He grabbed me by the shirt, preventing me from going all the way in. “There is a goddess threatening to kill all the children.”

“I know,” I said, gently but firmly removing his fingers from my cloak. “But the only thing we can do from this side is try to talk Lucia into taking a deal. If she takes a deal, she’s off the playing board, and those children are safe.”

I hope, I didn’t add.

“I need to get out,” he said, a hint of panic to his voice. “Send me out via the Pineapple place, too.”

“You can’t,” I said, looking him up and down. “I’m sorry. You worship Donar. They said you can’t go if you worship a god.”

“They said those of us who worship gods can’t go or they say they don’t want us to go?” he demanded.

That was actually a good question. Akuma had said he didn’t want the eyes of gods on that place. He’d said that if one worshipped a god, entering the area would instigate a smite. But was that true? Was it just a way to keep certain crawlers out? I didn’t know the answer.

I thought again of Akuma’s insistence that we kill two teams. That had been a lie, so I knew we couldn’t trust him. But, what if he was correct about not wanting gods there? I had no way of knowing, and it was frustrating. So many now worshipped gods, and if this was truly an escape, we needed to know. 

“Wait, what sort of god is Donar anyway?” I asked, pausing. I was making a running list of all the gods I’d heard of. I was placing them into a chart, moving each one into a different category based on their affiliations and skills.  

“Donar is a god of thunder and lightning. This version is much the same as Thor. But manlier.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Is he sponsored this season?”

“No. I am no idiot, Carl. I wouldn’t be dumb enough to worship a sponsored god. I...”

“Has he given you any lightning spells?”   

“Ya. A few. It doesn’t matter. Listen, Carl,” Jurgen said, lowering his voice. “I gotta tell you something. It’s Heidi... I used to be able to talk to her, but I haven’t heard her in a while. I think something’s wrong. I think she’s in danger. She is all I have. She’s pregnant. I have to get to her.”

I gently pushed the large, blonde man back. “I promise you, Jurgen. I’m doing everything I can. You and Prepotente need to focus on surviving this next race, and then we’ll figure it out. That’s the best I can do for you right now. I promise.”

He opened his mouth to say more, but I disappeared into the hidden guild.

Entering the Stage Performance Guild.

Please come in, performer. You are welcome here. See the guildmaster for the services o-o-o-offered.

I blinked, looking around, taking note that even the regular dungeon notifications were glitching out more often now. The guild room was significantly larger than I was expecting. It was a whole damn theater that looked as if it could fit 500 people with red, velvet chairs. At the far end was a stage with a single spotlight blaring down on it. The spotlight was the only illumination in the room.

It was shining down on the form of Porky the left half of Corcunda, who lay prone on the stage.

Porky wore the same gimp suit as Corky, but his was white.

“Hello?” I called, walking down the center aisle. A thick layer of dust covered everything, and my footsteps filled the space.  

“Hi, can you help me?” came the voice from the stage. He had the deep voice of a mantaur, and it echoed in the large room. But it was muffled, too, as he was behind the mask. “My, uh, zipper is stuck.”

The large man was on his back in the middle of the stage, and as I approached, I could see what the problem was.

The white gimp suit was covered in zippers. Ostensibly, the whole thing was designed to keep his guts in his body. There was a long, black zipper down the flat side of his body’s cross-section. This was the zipper that was stuck. It was stuck right at his lower waistline. There was a zipper from the top down and a second that came up from his crotch. The two met like a suitcase zipper, but a little bit of red, bulging flesh appeared stuck.

“It doesn’t hurt, but it’s really gross,” Porky said as I hesitantly approached. I had to move to the side of the large stage and find the grimy stairs. Dust swirled with every step.

“How long have you been stuck like this?” I asked, going to a knee.

“I... I don’t know,” he said. “If I stand, and the zipper isn’t properly sealed, everything starts to leak.”

“What about food? Water?” I looked down, examining the problem. Sure enough, the teeth of the top zipper were firmly embedded in whatever this was. It looked maybe like a little piece of intestine. I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. It was sitting at a place where he couldn’t get proper leverage to move.  

“I’m in a body containment suit,” Porky said. “It keeps me alive. It has water recycling. I don’t eat. No, look. You gotta pull it up, but I can’t get the angle right. My top arm is too short, and I can’t bend without spilling.”

I had a weird flashback of helping Bea do this with a jacket after she got her own hair caught in the zipper. I’d pulled too hard, and it had broken, which in turn had led to a three-hour ordeal where we’d had to travel to multiple department stores to shop for a replacement.   

“Here,” I said, yanking on the bottom part. “I gotta pull it taut, and then I’ll pull it upward. Uh, this might hurt.”

“I can’t feel my insides so much,” he said. His top arm grabbed my arm for support. “My, my, aren’t you muscley.”

I yanked, and there was a pop, and the zipper pulled free, spurting a small amount of red, watery liquid. I swallowed and then moved the zipper down, meeting the second zipper. The whole suit gave a flash.

Porky sighed with relief, then grabbed the two zippers and pulled them all the way down to the crotch. The half man awkwardly sat up.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you,” Porky said. “Help me up, if you would. Uh, welcome to the stage performance guild. I can see you have some rudimentary levels in performance skills, but the fact you were able to gain entrance suggests you have a lot of raw talent. And for helping me today, I will throw in a few free skill levels onto your Razzle Dazzle skill.”

I stood, pulling the heavy man up by his lower arm. He was well built and strong, but he wasn’t pure, corded muscle like most of these guys usually were. The half mantaur, split all the way down the middle was really difficult to look at, and it was even harder to wrap my brain around. The long, black zipper line down the flat side of his snow-white, latex suit was taut like a drumhead, but sometimes when he moved, I could see the organs within pressing against it, like they were trying to spread outside. The same thing happened with his head, where I assumed a half brain sat in his bisected skull. It looked flat, but things occasionally undulated within. It was really, really gross.

Even though his voice was muffled by the suit itself, his ability to talk was not hampered by the half mouth.

“Look, Porky, I need to talk to you.”

The half-mantaur froze. He hopped a few times to face me. He reached up and half unzipped an eyehole. A brown eye looked me up and down, and I suddenly wondered how he’d been seeing me up until this moment.   

“I haven’t been called Porky in a long time.”

“Yeah, I figured,” I said. “Your other half has spent a long time searching for you, but he’s in real trouble, and he needs your help.”

“What sort of trouble?”

I spent a few moments explaining everything I knew about Corky, his other half. That he left the Penis Parade to go searching, but he’d disappeared, only to show back up now. We didn’t know what was going on, but he was a part of the Lady Dominator team, and that he spent every race passed out in the back of their vehicle.

Porky nodded. “Female Mantaurs do not worship Grull like most of our kind do. They are adherents of Enyo. Enyo is an unhinged goddess of war.”

The moment the guildmaster said that, I realized that neither he nor Corky worshipped a god.

“What about Grull? I thought all the mantaurs did.”

“I did, once,” Porky said as he hopped backstage. I followed. He lit a lamp, and a dirty, yellow light revealed the spartan, lonely world he lived within. “When I split, my devotion went away as well, and now I find myself wondering how I fell into such a trap in the first place. He’s a very unpleasant deity.”

“You’re telling me,” I muttered.

There was a dirty mattress on the floor and a pile of old dungeon newsletters sitting next to it. He quickly shoved them into a closet so I wouldn’t see. There were also a few loose pieces of sheet music sitting there. These were bard spells, I realized. But Porky also gathered all of them up and put them away. 

He grabbed a tattered, unenchanted scarf off the bed and pulled it over his half-neck.  

“Still,” he continued. “Grull is much preferable to Enyo, who is said to be a constant thorn in Grull’s side. The woman mantaurs like to prey on vulnerable mantaurs. They practice Domination and Submission magic. They will drain my other half just before their races, which will render him utterly submissive. But since there are two of them, it is too much, and it will make him unconscious. This will increase their stats for the race.”

I nodded. I figured it was something like that. “He’s going to die this next race if we don’t do anything about it, and if he dies, you’ll never get reunited.”

“If my other half dies, I die, too. I’m glad you came to me.” 

 “Wait, I didn’t know that. I have a fleshmancer waiting outside. We need to get you out of here, and then we’ll need to break Corky out of his garage before the race starts. Once we do that, we can run the ceremony to get you two reunited. We only have an hour, so we gotta move fast. Does that sound good? Will you go with me?”

The strange creature just stood there for several moments, swaying back and forth while I held my breath. He spent a minute contemplating the stained bed, and I wondered how often people came in here. How long had Milk spent alone in that lonely guild? This was an NPC, but still...  

Porky’s white, latex suit made creaking noises with every small movement.

“Of course I’ll help,” he finally said. “You’ll have to hire me as a temporary mercenary. Or you can just... manhandle me out of here. But I’ll help, especially if that means I will get reunited with my other half. It’s been so long. It would be nice to not have to lean against everything again.”

I let out a stream of breath. That was a lot easier than I thought it would be.

“...And I’ll need your help, too. I want you to help me to find and kick the ever-loving tar out of this stripper I know. The one responsible for all of this trouble in the first place. His name is Dong Quixote.”