Cowboy Necromancer 2: Infinite Dark: (A Post-Apocalyptic LitRPG Fantasy), page 16
“She’s good at that, you know,” he said, motioning over to his counterpart. “Shooting shit.”
“She is violent and skilled, yes,” said the telemancer. “You two have quite the past.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t be looking at some of them memories.” Sterling set the wineglass down and started rolling up a cigarette. After he lit it, he gestured toward the cancer stick. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“I don’t.”
“Most people don’t nowadays, but it seems like they used to back when we were alive. I’ve seen the ‘no smoking’ signs.”
“Back when we were alive,” she said with a hint of admiration for this comment. “I haven’t heard it put this way before.”
“I can be clever when I want to. Anyway…” Sterling detailed the rest of what had happened up until the point that they had met the Oracle, including their encounter with the Angels of Woe. The only part he left out was the one in his inventory list.
“It sounds like it has been quite a journey,” the Oracle told him after a long pause, the young woman clearly used to asking questions and expecting long-winded answers. “And I do appreciate you dealing with the Angels of Woe. They keep trying to take Saltair, but they never will.”
“What about you?” Sterling didn’t know if this was the direction that the conversation needed to go, but he was curious, and he felt like he just spent the last five minutes talking about himself. “You clearly aren’t like some of those that have found their own group in your little network of cults or whatever. I don’t know what to call it.”
“Network is a good term. We do not have the capacity as of yet to enforce the rules that we have here in Saltair, and even if we did, I don’t know we would ever do this. But I do agree that some of the smaller groups have gotten out of hand, like the one you have mentioned. There is a lot going on here, as you can see.”
“I can see that,” he told her. “Never expected to find a place like this out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“We also have to keep our defenses up due to our proximity to Salt Lake City. The Angels of Woe have run rampant there.”
“So I’ve heard. Seems like the way of the world, really. We got the same problem down south. Them big cities are a breeding ground for assholes.”
“Yes, yes they can be. You asked me earlier if there is something that you could do for me, in exchange for information,” the Oracle said, apparently not willing to reveal too much about who she was before, or how she had set up such a tight-knit society. “I do believe I have something, and if I’m not mistaken, it relates to someone you are looking for. This man that I want you to meet, the Chronicler, he’s coming back from an area known as Nomadland, which used to be a series of national parks down by Moab. Regarding the people you’re looking for, if anyone has heard of mancers appearing out of thin air and stirring up trouble, it would be him.”
“Who said anything about stirring up trouble?” Sterling asked with a snort. “And you skipped something: what do you want me to do for you in exchange?”
“There is one of yours that I’ve already heard of. At least, I think she may be yours. There’s a place called Antelope Island northeast of here. It used to be another national park, one where wild buffalo roamed, and still is. We have a barge that goes to hunt the buffalo and return with meat, fur, and other parts necessary for operations here. Recently, a young female biomancer has prevented us from doing so.”
“A female?”
“A female.”
“That sounds like someone I know,” Sterling said, referring to the Sunflower Kid. “We can get her off your back, sure. Just point me in the right direction.”
“It would be much easier for you to take the barge to the park, which should be back in the next several days, likely empty-handed. Stop this biomancer from preventing our winter preparations,” she told him, “and we will consider it even. The Chronicler should be here by that time as well, and he will likely join you, based on his choices in the past. I have one more thing that may entice you. You’ve heard of the Gauntlet, yes?”
“I sure have. Seems mighty interesting, and I could use me a few levels, if we’re being honest.”
“I will set up a time for you and whomever you’d like to gain some levels there, which is something that is normally only reserved for my guards.”
“That would be nice,” he admitted. “Mighty kind of you.”
“Then that settles it. Once the barge returns, you can take it to Antelope Island to deal with the biomancer, and perhaps go on from there, because it might be a better way for you to travel toward the southwest. The Chronicler will know.”
“How did you know that was the direction I wanted to go?”
“Aside from it being where you are from, it’s where the Terminal is, and others like your small Abaddon. I sent the Chronicler down there to gather information, and hopefully, that will help us going forward; hopefully, it will help you.”
“So you know the ultimate reason why I’m doing what I’m doing then, don’t you?”
“I do,” she told him. The Oracle finally turned to him, her eyes shining beneath the veil over her face. “And I don’t know how lucky you will be. But there is something different about your spirit, something that tells me that you will sacrifice it all when the time comes, if that is indeed necessary. And the others that are with you feel the same. The Hopi man is an interesting choice, especially with his blood.”
“His blood?”
“We aren’t the first people to combat these Abaddon,” she told him, which was the first time he’d ever heard such a revelation. “But that is all I will say about that for now. The Chronicler will explain more. Come, let’s return to the others.”
The Oracle gracefully walked back to the carpeted crate that she had been perched on. She took her position on it, Sterling sensing that he should bow before her like the others. As soon as he was next to Roxie, he lowered his head, keeping his cowboy hat on.
Everyone around them came awake, as if someone had hit an invisible play button.
“Something… something happened,” Roxie whispered to him, her head slightly tilted in his direction. “I can sense it.”
“I’ll tell you more later; trust me, you’re going to want to hear this.” He placed his hand on Roxie’s elbow and made a clicking sound with his tongue. “Come on, let’s git.”
Part Two
The Chronicler, Antelope Island and the White Buffalo, Ancient Messages of the Anasazi, Dos Nigromantes, the Tree People, Lizard Eat Lizard
.Chapter One.
The Great Saltair, Deseret.
Not too distant future.
Sweat dripped from Sterling Monedero’s chin, the cowboy necromancer in a gaudy vest covered in threadbare Utah patches and trinkets that had been sewn onto it, his duster currently being held by Paco, black cowboy hat squarely on Sterling’s head.
He spat blood and wiped his mouth, the sun practically maddogging him, everything with an eggshell haze to it. Sterling’s dark clothing was now a powdery gray, the dust in his nostrils, and his eyes, never quite settling.
He spat again and lifted his sickle-sword, vibrant turquoise energy swirling around its tip, Sterling giving the man guarding an iron gate a quick nod.
He was ready.
A loud crack and the hell pigs came charging out, seven in total, all with streaked blood on their bodies, their tusks brittle and broken, the devil swine snorting and squealing, giddy with bloodlust as they kept up their pace.
Sterling threw himself into the air to avoid the initial collision, recalling the lessons he’d already learned in fighting the demon swine. He could fly, but he hated heights, and while flying may have given him a better perspective a few days back when he didn’t know where he was, it wasn’t something that he had even considered. No way, no how, not unless it was absolutely necessary, like this very moment, Sterling hovering for just a moment above the ravenous hell pigs as he planned his next attack.
Whoosh!
He came down hard with his blade, killing one of them instantly and launching his body into another. Sterling wrangled an arm around its neck and pulled his hooked blade across the pig’s throat. He dove just in time to avoid a single, gnarled tusk with his name on it, slamming his shoulder against the ground. For a moment he thought he might have dislocated it, but no such misfortune.
Back up on his feet, and wincing at the pain that seemed to throb on the right side of his body, Sterling kicked off the side wall to put a little distance between himself and the hell pigs.
He floated there for a split second, the demonic hogs with their oversized bodies trying to jump at him. The first one to botch its landing was met by Sterling as he spiraled down to the pig and killed it.
One of the larger pigs was close enough to him to butt the side of its body into Sterling, which threw him off balance and caused him to collide with the fissured hardtop. Before he could hit the air again, he was clobbered by another of the hell pigs and sent in a horizontal arc, straight into the outer wall protecting all the action from the spectators.
The impact had him seeing stars for a moment; Sterling managed to get to his feet just as another hell pig reached him. He hooked his arm around its neck and pulled it back with all of his might, his sickle-sword going into its throat, Sterling once again spilling blood on the arena floor.
Damn bastards, he thought as two of the pigs held back, allowing one to charge forward, the three trying to corner him.
Firearms weren’t allowed in the Gauntlet, same with mancer powers. This was mostly to prevent shrapnel, but the biomancer also had a much easier time repairing the pigs if they weren’t filled with bullet holes.
It would be a cheap move to fly again, and this was his last scheduled match anyway, Sterling netting a solid ten levels after he slayed these final pigs.
Ten levels.
He had never moved up this many levels in such a short amount of time. The people of Saltair had truly figured out the best way to not only farm XP and amplify the points given through the vest that he wore, which more than doubled the XP he got with each kill. It was going to be like Christmas once he finished up with the pigs, and was finally able to assign some things and work out his stats.
The mere thought of finishing the Gauntlet ignited his step as he exploded forward to address the lead pig.
As he had done previous times, he slipped around the swine and brought his sword into its side, hooking it into one of its ribs, which gave him the leverage he needed to take the pig to the ground, its leathery skin and general stink both things he’d learned to contend with. With all the strength he could muster, Sterling pulled the sword out and finished slaughtering the pig.
Faced with such a swift slaying, the second pig tried to stop its charge, but momentum had taken over by this point, causing its front two legs to buckle. Fast, as if he were Roxie stalking her prey, Sterling zipped forward and killed this hog as well, leaving just one.
The final swine snorted, smart enough to know that its days were numbered.
Sterling took off after it; rather than try to attack him, the swine attempted to flee, slamming its body into the outer wall. Squealing with true fear in its eyes, the hell pig attempted to use its hooves to scale the wall, the people that were watching cheering for Sterling to finish the job.
Approaching it from behind, Sterling hooked his sickle-sword into its back and dragged it to the ground. He got on top and killed it, sure not to do too much damage.
By the time he relaxed his guard to some degree, the biomancer who was able to heal all the devil pigs had already entered the arena, a disturbed look on his face. He crouched before the first pig and started the healing process before returning them to their pens, the man also having some sort of power over their minds.
It had been a hell of a run.
Sterling was ready to reap the rewards.
There were too many prompts, Sterling’s eyes twitching a bit as he scrolled through them, stopping on the most important things. For one, he had surpassed Level 70, which meant he had received a class change.
“Corpse Curator, huh?” he mumbled as he took his hat off and ran his hands over his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had picked up a towel on the way back to a locker room of sorts, and Sterling was now seated on a wooden bench, the towel around his neck. He wiped some of the sweat and grime away, glad that they’d had a flectomancer install a rudimentary shower. There were all sorts of contraptions around Saltair that Sterling had never seen before, ones that didn’t require electricity, everyone knowing the cardinal rule of not getting on the Godwalkers’ radar especially with a population this large.
Sterling sighed, still feeling a little pain where the demon swine had struck him. As he glanced over all the prompts, his eyes finally came to a stop on the phrase he was looking for:
Do you want to assign your Stat and Technique Points now?
“You bet your ass I do.” Sterling had received a whopping seventy-four Stat Points, which he ended up mostly dividing between Strength, Resolve, and Mana, with the smallest amount put into Fortitude, which he had been steadily improving upon over the last several years.
With all his charms, he had received a huge number of Technique Points, over two hundred, which he planned to deal with after he assigned the four Class Proficiency Points he had been awarded, two coming from the bonus tied to his amber ring with the scorpion tail inside, and two from reaching the coveted Level 70 milestone.
“I still can’t believe they call this farming…” he said. “What I used to do was real farming, all them peppers.” The tainted memory of his destroyed ranch house outside of T or C had a way of making him feel sour. “Damn Godwalkers; damn Killbillies.”
As it stood, Sterling had five Class Proficiencies that he had earned and improved upon. These were Death Whisper, Resurrection, Enhanced Durability, Death Sense, and Mold Manipulation. Mold Manipulation was currently at Level 1; Death Sense and Enhanced Durability were at Level 2; Resurrection was at Level 3; and Death Whisper was at Level 4.
He had never been given so many Class Proficiency points to assign at one time, and as he thought about where he wanted to put most of his focus, Sterling remembered the animate he already had in his inventory list, how his creations weren’t that smart yet.
Worth a shot, he thought as he sent three points into Resurrection, and the final point into Enhanced Durability. Without his grafting power, which was tied to Enhanced Durability, he would be missing an arm. Sterling figured it was probably best to be as durable as possible for whatever happened next. There was no telling what heading south would bring, into the heart of Nomadland and toward the Terminal.
He took a quick gander at his Class Proficiencies before moving on.
Necromancer Class Skills
Death Whisper: Class Proficiency Level 4
Casting Cost: 6 Mana Points
Description: Can communicate with the deceased; blood needed to do so.
——
Resurrection: Class Proficiency Level 6
Casting Cost: 5 Mana Points
Description: Can summon at will, but doing so takes a cut of MP until the animate is relinquished.
——
Enhanced Durability: Class Proficiency Level 4
Grafting Casting Cost: 15 Mana Points
Description: Enhanced durability and grafting.
——
Death Sense: Class Proficiency Level 3
Description: Able to sense the bodies of the dead around you. Higher levels allow for wider ranges, including remote animating.
——
Mold Manipulation: Class Proficiency Level 1
Casting Cost: 6 Mana Points
Description: Able to manipulate and conjure mold. Higher levels allow for strong and further reaching creations.
Everything looked to be in order, and the next time he got a Class Proficiency bonus, he’d likely focus it on Death Sense so he could eventually reach a level at which he could do remote animating, Sterling figuring that would come in handy at some point.
I’ll also need to test what improving my Resurrection ability actually means… he thought as he moved on to his Technique Points.
Techniques could be purchased in what was known, at least in New Mexico, as the ‘Buy Store,’ which simply appeared if Sterling wanted to summon it. They probably had a different name for it here in Deseret. There were three main options available when it was accessed—Combat, Stealth, Perception—and Sterling had dabbled in all three.
He put seventy-two Technique Points into his Sword skills, and decided to really double down on his Perception powers, Awareness and Persuasion, where he spent another hundred points or so. He then circled back to his Marksmanship skill and went ahead and leveled that up as well. In the end, he still had fifteen Technique Points to bank until he got his next level.
“Looking good, amigo, looking good,” he said as he took another look at his stats.
Name: Sterling Monedero
Race: Human
Mancer Class: Necromancer
Class Ranking: Corpse Curator
Level: 73
Fortitude: 130
Strength: 70
Resolve: 180
Mana: 180/180
Current Armor Rating: 28
XP: 665,761
XP to Next Level: 56,963
Stat Points Available: 0
Technique Points Available: 15
Combat:
Sword Expert Level 6 - 47 Technique Points to Level 7
Marksmanship Level 7 - 48 Technique Points to Level 8
Stealth:
Sneak Proficiency Level 3 - 14 Technique Points to Level 4
Assassination Level 2 - 9 Technique Points to Level 3
Cover of Night Level 2 - 7 Technique Points to Level 3
Disguise Level 1 - 4 Technique Points to Level 2
Perception:
Persuasion Level 6 - 46 Technique Points to Level 7
