The Rifleman - Ch.22 (Patreon)

Chapter 22

Bad News.

Wesley dropped the wisp form the moment he entered the range of the Outpost. He had no idea what kind of defenses the place had, but he didn’t intend to trip any of them accidentally and end up smeared across the landscape merely a few feet from safety. 

The door opened when he was still a few paces out; the familiar face of the keeper shifted from curious to pissed in a matter of seconds.

“You!” He came out the door and pointed an accusing finger at Wesley. “You joined that lot of freaks who stole my stuff!”

“I was just a temporary assignment,” Wesley protested. “One I want to get done as soon as possible!”

“Is that right?” He said suspiciously. “Are they with you?”

“No, but I imagine they will be along soon enough,” Wesley said with a backward glance. “I didn’t wait for them, so they will probably only get here tomorrow morning.”

“You came down the cliff in the dark?” The man asked with a laugh, “Risky, but I can’t say I blame you.”

“We, uh, didn’t get on too well,” Wesley admitted, keeping the details to himself.

“In that case,” the man stepped aside, “Come on in.”

“Thanks,” Wesley said quickly. “I won’t keep you up long; I want to get back to the city as soon as possible.” 

“Sure, kid, sure,” the keeper followed him in and opened a ledger-like book on the counter. “First, let’s see your badge.”

Wesley handed it over and saw the man’s eyebrows shoot up. It was difficult to miss, given the bushy things were almost as big as caterpillars.  While the man did not comment on the missing team name, he did give Wesley a consoling look.

Running one meaty finger down the page, the keeper stopped and pressed the copper badge against it.

There was a flash of light, and he saw the ledger again, but this time with a small pile of coins on it.

“Ten gold, five silver, and ten copper,” the man said as he handed them over. “I’d give you the full pay for the whole team if I could, but the ledger isn’t like that.” He handed back the badge. No wonder you don’t want to wait for them.”

“I’m sure it was all a misunderstanding,” Wesley said with a smile. “All I care about now is moving on.”

“That, I can do,” The man led him back to the portal room and placed his hand on it; a second later, a sheet of silver liquid filled it, dropping from the top and rippling once. “Safe travels, friend, and better luck with your next mission.”

“Thanks,” Wesley waved and stepped into the portal, relieved to finally be done with the whole thing.

//////////////

Wesley stepped out of the portal and looked at the same man who had sent him on his way.

“This isn’t good, is it?” He asked with a tired sigh. 

“No, lad, it isn’t,” He replied. “I think I better make us a hot drink.”

Wesley sat and waited while the keeper fussed around behind the counter, eventually coming out with a pair of steaming porcelain mugs.

“You ever been in one of these things before?” the keeper asked as he sat at a table. 

“This is my first time,” Wesley said. He suspected what was happening, but even if he was wrong, chances were pretty good as it was his first time experiencing anything in this world, “Mr…?”

“Call me Hank,” Hank replied. “Zone invasions are a nasty business for us NPCs.”

“Well, if you have any advice, I’m listening,” Wesley said. The drink was hot, sweet, and vaguely tea-like. It reminded him of a friend of his who only drank Earl Grey Tea, which tasted very similar to this. The guy thought it was the answer to everything from a hangover to being hit by a small car.

Literally, that had happened once, and the man made him a cup of tea.

“First thing I would do, get to the town not far from here,” Hank said thoughtfully. “That is the end point of the invasion, so it will be the last to be hit.” He gave Wes another of his assessing looks. “You look like a strong lad; I’d say fight back if you can.”

“Isn’t it better to find somewhere to wait this out?” Wesley asked, thinking of his My Domain skill. “Then sneak out once it is over.”

“If you can, sure,” Hank said with a sigh, “but if the invasion succeeds, there will be NPCs killed all over the place. They like to change the whole place over, just in case someone tried to take it back straight away.”

“Any way to tell if the invasion is by one of those types?” Wesley asked with a sinking feeling inside.

“They are all those types, lad,” Karl said firmly.

“Well, shit,” Wesley replied with a sigh. “I guess I wasn’t quite fast enough.”

“Guess not,” Hank said with a friendly smile. “But the people here are tough. We might just throw them out.”

“Thanks for the drink,” Wesley said, draining his cup, “And the advice. I better get headed for that city.”

“You don’t want a good night’s sleep first?” Hank asked.

“I’d love one,” Wesley admitted, “But I would rather not run into the Watchmen again.”

The two shook hands; Hank gave him some directions to follow, and the door closed behind Wes, leaving him once more shoved out of safety within hours of entering it. 

Fortunately, there was a decent enough path he could follow, and the few animals in the zone didn’t hunt at night. He had been on the road for about an hour when word apparently got out about the incoming invasion. 

A bright light appeared above the very distant town, answered in various forms by the small number of buildings and settlements he could see. For a few minutes, the night looked like one giant fireworks show. It was quite pretty if you overlooked the slight tinge of fear that seemed to sweep across the zone at the same time. 

Everyone knew what was coming a lot better than he did, but the few people he saw on the paths were looking terrified. 

He walked until almost sunrise when he encountered a small group of people camped on the side of the road. It looked like a family, along with a few others and a couple of terrified-looking kids. 

They drew together at first until one of them approached and asked him if he was heading to the town. When they learned he was, they asked for an escort to the gates and offered him whatever they had to get them there safely. 

Wes hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to help; it was more that he was only one person, and there were almost fifteen of them. In short, he doubted if he could actually do it.  He thought for a moment, then agreed.

They asked if he minded waiting a couple of hours for everyone to rest before getting on the road, and he had no problem with that. 

If the truth be told, he was pretty tired himself and should be well ahead of the Watchmen by now. 

While the others settled in to rest, Wesley leaned his back against a tree and dozed. He was not quite trusting enough to actually sleep around a group of strangers just yet. 

A couple of hours later, they got on the road again, setting a fairly slow pace as several in the group, especially the kids, were still at the first two tiers. One thing he learned on the walk was that the system seemed to completely ignore the children up until the age of thirteen when they attained the first Tier, then offered a class at the age of fifteen. Between those times, they could not tier up no matter how much they did. 

The leaders of the little group were a husband and wife Blacksmith team who were chatting away constantly, talking about the area and how long they had been married to anyone who would listen. Both of them seemed physically incapable of shutting up.

About a mile before the path would join up with a larger one that led directly to the town, Wesley noticed a larger group ahead of them running from a strange creature. It looked like a rock-covered gerbil that was the size of a rhino as it lumbered after the group.

Wesley climbed up a nearby tree and aimed carefully over the heads of the fleeing group. It was not an easy shot, given that he had to shoot for some of the less rocky areas if he wanted his bullets to actually do anything. 

His first shot hit the back of the neck, while his second pinged off the rocky shoulder. His third and fourth shots finally hit somewhere useful. The first one was a direct hit to the side of the neck, while the second hit the creature in one eye. 

It stumbled, falling over its own feet, one side of the body seeming to go limp. Still, it tried to drag itself after the running figures. His final shot was a lot easier now that it was moving slower, hitting right between the eyes.

It finally stilled.

“What is that thing?” the blacksmith asked. 

“No idea,” Wesley admitted as he jumped down from the tree. “I’m still new around here.”

“Oh, that isn’t local,” the wife chimed in, “We’ve been here for years and never seen anything like that.”

The fleeing group met up with his own, and he left them to talk while he went and examined the creature he had killed. 

It was even bigger up close than it looked from afar. The chalky writing appeared as he stared at the carcass.

Rock-Eater (Tier 3)

He reached out and looted it, finding no meat but some extremely tough leather and some of the strangest teeth he had ever seen. He put the loot in his pack and headed back to the group. 

By the time they turned onto the larger path, the two groups had merged, and he was now escorting at least thirty people. Fortunately, they were now onto one of the main routes to the town, and within the next few miles, they ran across a smattering of other classes and people, all heading for the town and what safety it could offer. 

They were far from the only ones to have run into unusual creatures, with two more Rock Eaters and a couple of boars mentioned by the other fighters they met. He even heard of a Giant Hyena attacking a small hamlet from a caster type who joined up with them a couple of hours before they got to the city. 

In the end, they arrived at the back of the queue to enter the town with Wes, four warriors of various types, three caster classes, and two Hunters. All that to guard what was up to around a hundred people by then. They were at the back of a large mob of people all entering the town while a bunch of guards and officials worked to get everyone sorted out. 

Rumor and gossip seemed to be the main occupation of everyone while they were waiting. In that last hour before darkness fell Wesley was informed the invasion was all a trick, that their enemies would be the followers of several different members of the pantheon, and on one memorable occasion, a wild-eyed man informed him that the Zone Invasion was being led by a member of a secret organization of Butchers who was relentlessly chasing him to recover the ‘Golden Rib of Zara.’

Still, it passed the time, he supposed. As darkness fell, a series of mage lights lit on the walls and around the gates, and his group finally got their turn.

“Thank you all for hearing me out,” a man in the uniform of a Town Guard was saying as Wesley and a few other combat class holders joined the cluster around him. “We have a pretty nasty situation here, and I know most of you have been on the road since last night.”

That got a few nods and grunts of affirmation. Everyone looked as exhausted as Wesley felt. 

“The Invasion is due to start sometime tomorrow morning, and we expect it to be a tough one,” he went on, “Simply put, we don’t have enough people to protect the entire zone, so we are going to focus our defense right here.”

Wesley looked around, seeing grim faces everywhere. It seemed like everyone had assumed that would be the case.

“Do we know who’s attacking?” The question came from a woman in dusty robes on the far side.

“The reports from the zone border suggest it is going to be the Den Mother’s Faction, but we don’t know which ones yet.” the guard answered, and Wesley saw a good number of people wince while others seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “What we are doing tonight is getting as many people willing to help defend the zone registered and organized as possible.” The guard pointed to a small set of tents that had been erected just to one side of the town gates. “If you are willing to help, head over to the tents and register. We will pay what we can to any who aid the Zone if we survive.” 

Looking around, Wes saw the same speech being given to several different groups—or nearly the same speech. Everyone looked tense, tired, or merely terrified.

Once he lined up to register, Wesley got a chance to look around a bit. The town itself looked like a decent enough place. A mix of wood and brick buildings, cobbled streets, and even street lights burning here and there. The lights were on in almost every building, and the candle glow mixed with other strange forms of illumination. 

Outside the gates, the small group of tents was rapidly being expanded into a sprawling but ordered combination military muster yard and refugee camp. Everywhere he looked, people were rushing to and fro.

A large group of casters was spreading around the walls, casting spells that seemed to thicken and raise the walls, all while holding orbs given by representatives of the town itself.

The one thing he didn’t see anywhere was people just wandering aimlessly or just watching. For some reason, he had expected that. No one was arguing or shouting for more pay; no one was protesting that they didn’t want to fight or work through the night… everyone was pulling together.

When he shuffled into the tent after almost an hour in line, a woman was waiting with a ledger and a polite smile while sitting behind a horribly rickety-looking wooden desk.

“Good evening,” she said as he got his turn. “I’m just going to take some details, and then I’ll send you on to the right group if that’s alright.”

“Sure,” Wesley said politely. “What do you want to know?”

The woman pulled out a sheet of handwritten questions, but she barely seemed to glance at it. He guessed she had already asked them so many times today that she would be able to recite them in her sleep a dozen years from now.

“Are you a melee or a ranged fighter?” 

“Primarily ranged,” Wesley said.

“Can you heal yourself or others?”

“I can heal myself or others, but my focus is on preserving life before other things. I also have an area heal, but it is quite weak.” Wesley said honestly. “I can heal individuals about four times every hour and a half or so, and the area heal uses one of those charges as well.”

“Do you require arrows, bolts, or other items to be supplied by the town?”

“I make my own ammo,” Wesley said. “But I would like a Blacksmith to repair my knife if there is time.”

She made a couple of notes on a card before going on with her questions.

“Tier?”

“Four,” Wesley replied, seeing her smile a little.

“Any profession?” She seemed to ask as an afterthought. “And any way it could aid the town or others?”

“I’m a Steward,” Wesley replied. “I can provide a camp-like room in a single hex, which I temporarily claim. It offers beds, a place to cook, repair tables, and boosts skill recharge rates. Also, I have a shield spell with more charges on it when I am within the hex.” He hesitated, “To be honest, I just got the profession, so I am not entirely sure how it works.”

She was writing furiously now, and the moment she was done, she handed him the card covered in dense script. “Take this to the big tent, and they will sort you out. Thank you for helping.” 

Wesley took the square bit of rough card and went to find the ‘big tent,’ which turned out to be easier than he thought. Only one tent was bigger than the others, and it stood out as it seemed to be made of something like silk.

Wesley handed over the card, was asked the same questions again, and then was taken into another area within the tent where a grey-haired man in steel armor with white and black leather was sitting at a desk. 

The guard whispered in the man’s ear, handed over the card, and then left.

“Take a seat,” the man said as he sorted through some papers before looking up. “I’m the town founder, Miles Ernshaw.”

“Wesley Lancaster,” Wes said as he gratefully took a seat. He had been up for more than a day now, and his feet were starting to ache. 

“I won’t lie to you,” Ernshaw said as he leaned his elbows on the desk, “We don’t have a lot of people above Tier three in this Zone. That makes you valuable as a fighter,” He tapped the card meaningfully, “We also don’t have as many healers as I would like.” 

“Happy to help however I can,” Wesley said honestly.

“Well, it’s the profession that is the kicker, as it were. You can fight, heal, and provide a camp area,” Ernshaw smiled. “We could really use you. Now, do you belong to a Guild of any form?”

“I just joined the Delver’s Guild,” Wesley answered. “But I have to admit it is not really a great fit so far.”

“Guild Rank?” Ernshaw asked.

“Copper,” Wesley said, taking out his badge to show him, “Just completed my first dungeon for them and found I couldn’t portal back.”

“Is your group with you?” Ernshaw asked. 

“No, I was only a probationary member; we split after the dungeon,” Wesley said, leaving out the details. There was no reason to tell this man everything, and the less reason for the Watchmen to seek him out, the better as far as he was concerned.

“I see,” Miles Ernshaw leaned over the desk, “I can’t afford the guild rates for anyone right now, but if we can hold out, I promise you as decent a reward as I can get you.” He offered his hand, “What do you say?”

“Happy to help,” Wesley said and shook hands with the man. 

Ernshaw seemed a nice enough sort, and given he was stuck in the area anyway, it seemed dumb to bicker about pay.

“Good,” Ernshaw nodded once and then stood and pressed a small stone on one side of his desk. A mist poured from the stone, shaping itself into a map of the area around the town.

It was the coolest thing Wesley had ever seen, and he wanted one immediately.

“Here,” Ernshaw pointed to an area a mile or so outside of the town. “This approach is blocked by white quicksand on both sides. Only this passage can be crossed.” He trailed his finger over the misty map, a small passage going green as he did so. “I’d like to ask you to go there, set up your camp, and support a group of soldiers and support personnel who will guard that approach.” He frowned a little. “I won’t lie; you won’t get as much fighting there, but the healing and safe place to rest will be a big help.”

“Sounds perfect,” Wesley said, standing. “Do we know who we are fighting yet?”

“Den Mother’s rabble,” Ernshaw shook his head. “Beast hordes and anyone else they hired on.”

“I heard there have been strange creatures all over the place,” Wesley said. “I killed something called a Rock Eater on my way here, and I’m told they are not usually in this Zone.”

“Really?” Ernshaw rubbed his chin. “The reports aren’t getting to me, but… I’ll look into it.”

They shook hands, and Wesley headed off with a guide to take him where he needed to go.