CPC-02. Couch Potato Crisis, page 9
part #2 of Couch Potato Chronicles Series
“Burst steam engine?”
The gnome’s face lit up. “Oh yes. We channel fire magic into a”—he raised his hands for emphasis—“heavily reinforced chamber, causing massive amounts of steam to build up in the adjoining cell. Once it hits the pressure limit, the engine channels that energy into a massive burst of speed.”
“Is that safe?” Ari asked.
The gnome shrugged. “Safer than being eaten whole by the dread fiend of the bay.”
“And you’ve used this engine before?”
The captain nodded. “On multiple occasions, to avoid overly...curious internment ships, and my engine almost never explodes. My steam engine has a satisfactory not-exploding to exploding ratio. Don’t concern yourself with petty details.”
“I’m convinced,” she said. “A low chance of exploding, who wouldn’t want that?”
“Shall we depart then, miss?” Malarkey took another drink from his ever-present flask.
“Don’t you want to sober up before we set out?”
The gnome gaped. “What, are you mad, woman? Not even I’m crazy enough to sail this deathtrap while sober. Climb aboard, quickly. You said you were in a hurry, didn’t you?” The gnome put his hand to his mouth as he hiccupped.
With no meager amount of trepidation, Tasha led Denver up the wooden ramp onto the deck. The rest of the party followed. Denver seemed apprehensive, but with some shoving, she got the reticent velociraptor aboard. Kazezu flew onto the deck. Despite his size, there was still enough room for him to stand as long as he didn’t move around much. The ship dipped as he made contact with it.
The crew of generic gnomes pulled up the ramp and quickly undid the ropes securing the Dea Latis to the docks. The ship slowly drifted from the pier into the waiting sea.
Chapter 4
Return of Twinklebottom
Several weeks earlier, just after Tasha defeated Queen Murderjoy at the Spiral Tower…
Trista Twinklebottom floated in the formless sightless realm of Oblivion, the bridge between death and life. I will kill Tasha Singleton! Mere moments ago, she’d sacrificed her life to revive Tasha’s friends during their conflict against Queen Murderjoy.
It wasn’t that she wanted to save Tasha. The human had locked her in a bottle for weeks. A bottle! Who puts a fairy in a bottle? That had to be some kind of fairy rights violation.
Why did that human despise her so? To be fair, Trista had kidnaped her friend and tried to have her assassinated several times, but that was just business. It wasn’t personal. The human was clearly in the wrong and had overreacted by sticking her in that jar.
And before that, Tasha had humiliated her in combat, killing many of the shinobi she was responsible for. Most of them had been trash-tier cannon fodder, but that wasn’t the point. They were her trash-tier cannon fodder.
Trista sacrificed her life for them because the queen had betrayed her, which seemed an obvious eventuality in hindsight. Of course the queen betrayed Trista. The queen was human. That’s what humans do. And Murderjoy specifically had a reputation for turning on her allies once they’d served whatever purpose she had in mind for them. She should’ve seen it coming.
Now she had another chance. She’d get even with both of them, starting with that Tasha. Oh, the things she’d do to her. To start, she would stuff Tasha into a giant jar and put little air holes at the top. Then she’d rattle it around and have her trash-tier cannon fodder drag it along the ground wherever she went. She’d stuff pieces of french toast through the jar for the human to eat, and then she’d fill it up to the human’s knees with water from the Bog of Most Likely Death. That would teach her a thing or three about messing with fairies.
Her first challenge was finding a glass-maker willing to construct a giant jar, one strong enough to contain the human. It would have to be a custom order. Trista shook her head—she was getting ahead of herself. Before any of that could happen, she’d need to escape the bog. A challenge, to be sure, but it was meant to be uncrossable for non-winged folk. She should be able to fly high enough to avoid the miasma. There were hills and trees in the bog that rose above the miasma where she could rest and use portable campsites, so getting out wouldn’t be a problem.
The most critical part of her ingenious plan was beyond her control, however. When she resurrected, what sort of person would she be? Of all the species, fairies had the greatest amount of variance of personalities between resurrections. She might come back as someone who wasn’t a natural born killer like she was.
Some people believed you could control your resurrections by focusing on and repeating the desired characteristics in your mind. The unproven theory was more than likely untrue. Nevertheless, for the next hour she focused on hate, rage, and her murderous intent. She’d stick the Player in a giant bottle, watch her squirm, then kill her off once she’d tired of toying with her.
Kill! Murder! Revenge! Giant bottles! These words reverberated in her mind, over and over until she felt the moments blended together and her perception of the passage of time slipped.
Then, from the darkness of Oblivion, a voice rang out. It wasn’t the angry, rageful, rebellious voice she’d expected. No. The voice was soft, feminine, demure, and kind. “Trista.”
What? No, this can’t be right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be at all!
A small purple-haired fairy appeared before her, fluttering in the darkness. She was naked with wings like a butterfly. Her hands reached out as if wanting to pull someone in for a warm hug. A benevolent smile met her lips and her eyes felt welcoming and kind.
“Trista,” she said in a voice reeking with goodness and love.
No, this couldn’t be right. This was all wrong! This apparition wasn’t her! Trista was a merciless bloodthirsty ninja, one who’d take any job. She was the fearless leader of her ninja village, a cold-blooded assassin who cared for nothing but prosperity and the success of her mission.
But this being in front of her just reeked of “joy” and “love” and “friendship”. Ugh, it was enough to make her puke. Of course, she couldn’t puke, what with her not having a body, but that wasn’t the point. The desire to puke filled her, if not the capability.
She couldn’t be this person. Not again. The last time she resurrected as someone cuddly and compassionate, she spent an entire three years volunteering in a nature preserve in Northern Questgivria. Fortunately, said nature trampled her to death and she was lucky enough to come back as a cold blooded murderer.
So she resisted, trying to pull her attention away, but her being was drawn, irresistibly, to the fairy before her. She was so inviting, so warm.
No! Snap out of it Twinklebottom! You are a cold-blooded homicidal maniac for hire. This woman in front of you looks more like a flower arranger than a shinobi. Resist the pull, Twinklebottom, resist!
But no matter how she tried to look away, she was inexorably drawn forward. She raged against the impulse, fought it with everything she had, but despite her resistance, the word “Trista” forced its way from her reticent lips. The two beings became one, and her eyes opened.
She fluttered into the air, rising above the save point. The fairy wore only simple, white, fairy-sized shorts and a shirt with slits in the back for her wings. The Spiral Tower loomed over her in the distance, it’s former light completely gone. The sun rose in the east, just visible over the Bog of Most Likely Death.
“Oh my!” she said. “Well this is a fine pot of sugar-plums you’ve found yourself in, Trista.”
She thought back, ruminating on the events that had led her to her current situation. “Oh dumplings. What mean and uncute things I said to that nice human. She went to such lengths to take care of me and even kept me in a cozy little bottle for my protection.”
She fluttered to the branch of a nearby tree. “When I think about all the not-nice things I did, that settles it. I must find Tasha straight away and say I’m sorry. I…can only hope she’ll find it in her adorable human heart to forgive me.”
That’s when she noticed that the ground surrounding the Spiral Tower was littered with the bodies of fallen dragons—hundreds of them, all of different types, sizes, and colors. What had happened here? There must have been a mighty battle, but who had come out on top?
The spiral tower towered above, dark as night. When the princess had removed the Orb of Life, she’d extinguished its once brilliant light, casting the tower into darkness. Trista flew toward the top of the tower. It was possible there was further evidence of what had transpired. Even if there wasn’t, the top of the tower would serve a convenient launching point for her long journey across the Bog of Most Likely Death.
She beat her wings harder, gaining elevation. It took quite some time to reach the peak. When she arrived and peeked over the ledge, the bodies of countless dragons and flying monkeys lay strewn throughout the immense platform. But the battle was over. Whoever won must have already left.
Then she saw it. The body of Queen Aralynn Murderjoy collapsed in the center of the battlefield. Twinklebottom flew toward it. Her first instinct was to determine what had killed the queen and whether that thing might still be around. Based on the clawmarks and the queen’s missing left arm, it was reasonable to assume she wasn’t killed by the Player or her associates.
Once she’d confirmed there were no monsters in the immediate vicinity, she inspected the queen’s body. Whatever changes had overtaken her during her transformation, her desire for wealth and loot persisted. Maybe there was treasure to be had.
Then a new feeling rose with her as her newly formed conscience took hold. She couldn’t steal from another person. That would be wrong! Surely the queen would return to reclaim her belongings.
On the other hand, Murderjoy still hadn’t paid her for the job of retrieving Princess Kiwi, which she’d fulfilled, even if only on a technicality. Rather than troubling the queen with a bill, she could just collect her pay from whatever loot might be on her body.
Thus rationalizing her corpse robbing escapade, she rummaged through the queen’s pockets, looking for goodies. Let’s see...a pocket handkerchief, some potions, some pocket fluff…there’s nothing here of particular value.
Most of the queen’s equipment was valuable, but given the fairy’s diminutive size, she couldn’t carry it away. She did, however, find one item—a magic ring that provided a 70% resistance against air elemental effects. There were two other rings with similar resistances to earth and water. She spent the next few minutes removing them from the queen’s dead fingers, one at a time.
She stuck her arm through the ring that protected against wind, but it was clearly too large for her to wear as a ring or bracelet, but if she had it adjusted, she might be able to wear it as a belt. If not, she could sell it. Something that provided a 70% resistance to wind damage would be worth quite a lot on the open market. She placed the three rings into her inventory.
What other goodies did the queen have on her when she died?
Then the staff lying at the queen’s side caught her eye. The queen’s magic staff would be immensely valuable, but lifting it was impossible for someone Trista’s size. What about that glowing orb on its end? The patterns of swirling fire clearly marked it as the Orb of Fire. Though it would be troublesome to carry, the value of an elemental orb was immeasurable. And the queen still owed her payment for her last job, so why not take it?
The obstacle she faced was getting the orb free of the staff. She’d seen the queen return it to the staff before, so there had to be some trick to it. She monkeyed around with it until she discovered a gripping mechanism locked it in place. One tug on the release and the Orb fell out of the staff, rolling several meters before coming to a stop on the cold metal floor.
She was just barely able to lift it, though the edges of the sphere burned her hands when they came into contact. When she tried to place the thing into her inventory, she received a reply stating the item couldn’t be stored.
She’d have to carry it instead, and though it would weigh her down significantly, making flight nearly impossible, for a prize of this value, it was worth the hassle.
Before she finished constructing a harness to hold the Orb of Fire, Queen Murderjoy appeared in a warp bubble, slowly descending to the top of the tower. Twinklebottom wasted no time; she abandoned the Orb and darted under the wing of one of the nearby dragon corpses where, if fortune was on her side, she’d remain undetected.
The warp bubble vanished as the queen and her entourage set down. Twinklebottom recognized the queen and her advisor, Gelkorus, along with several Zhakaran soldiers.
“The Orb. Find the Orb!” the queen commanded.
Gelkorus pointed at the ground where the Orb of Fire had rolled to a stop. “It’s there, my queen.”
The villainous morach reached toward the Orb of Fire, and it flew into her waiting grasp where it glowed brightly. She retrieved the staff from her corpse and secured the Orb onto the end.
She knelt by her body and examined it. “Where are my rings? I was wearing six invaluable rings when I was killed.”
Gelkorus said, “Three were on your left hand, no? The Omnirabbit ate your left arm, so I wouldn’t count on getting those rings back.”
“That’s obvious, fool. But what about the other three? I wore them on my right hand. They should be here.”
“I cannot say, my queen.”
She scrunched up her face into an angry scowl. “Tasha. That Player must have returned and taken them from my body after I was killed. I’ll make her pay for this. First she humiliates me, then she steals from me? I won’t be satisfied until I kill that woman at least once.”
Gelkorus said, “If it were her, why didn’t she take the Orb?”
“Who knows? It doesn’t matter. She’s going to pay for this. I’ll use the charm spell on her.”
“We agreed that’s a bad idea, my queen. The use of a forbidden magic would surely spur retaliation. Winter will be upon us soon. This is the wrong season for war.”
“No, Gelkorus, I will not be denied this. Contact our operative in Brightwind and have them be ready to disable the castle’s alarm.”
“As you wish, your majesty. Are you ready to return to Bastion?”
The queen looked around, “Not quite. Doctor Penfold has asked for a fresh dragon corpse for his experiments. We may as well grab one while we have the chance.”
Gelkorus said, “They’re too big to fit into a warp bubble, but I can use my miniaturization spell. It has a one day cooldown, so I’ll only be able to take one.”
“Fine, just pick one and let’s go.”
Gelkorus approached the dragon where Twinklebottom was hiding. “This one will do fine.”
Queen Murderjoy smirked. “Just like a boy to pick the biggest one. I recognize him. That’s Zabrelvamier, The Black Dragon.”
Trista darted from under the dragon’s wing, but now she was in the open. She was small enough to be easily overlooked, but if she wasn’t careful, someone might see her.
Then it appeared to her—the perfect hiding place. It was a mid-size circular black hole stuck right into the stairwell wall. She was in such a desperate hurry, she didn’t question why the hole was there.
After entering it, she realized it was no ordinary hole. It contained a large, dimly lit square room. This was Pan’s portable hole. The girl must have left it here for some reason, and Trista had flown right in. She turned back to find that the exit portal was a mid-sized circle set against the wall. A ribbon of shimmering light wrapped the portal’s circumference, providing the room’s meager illumination.
It was already too late to find a new hiding place. She’d have to hope her hiding place wasn’t discovered. She peeked carefully through the portal to watch events play out.
As Gelkorus invoked his spell, the enormous black dragon Zabrelvamier shrank into a size no larger than his palm. He placed the dragon corpse into his inventory.
“Are we done here?” asked Murderjoy. “I’ve had my fill of this place.”
Gelkorus took in the battlefield one last time before gazing directly at Twinklebottom’s hiding place. He walked in her direction, and Trista ducked further into the hole, hoping she hadn’t already been spotted.
“If I may have a moment, I believe I’ve found something interesting.”
Gelkorus and the queen were no longer visible, but their voices came through the open portal.
“Make it quick,” said the queen.
Gelkorus walked toward the portable hole until his enormous face filled the opening. She hid in the darkness, staying out of his line of sight.
“It seems to be a portable hole, an artifact tier treasure. Who’d leave something this valuable lying around?”
“Anything inside?” asked Murderjoy.
Trista activated her “Hide in Shadows” ninja skill, which gave her complete invisibility as long as she remained out of direct illumination and remained still.
Gelkorus poked his head into the hole and looked around for a moment. “Seems empty.”
“Then take it. We might have use for it in the future. Hurry up, Gel. I don’t want to be here any longer. Let’s return to Bastion so I can plan my revenge.”
Gelkorus put his hands on the sides of the hole, removing it from the wall. He held it out before him. “It’s too large to carry and it won’t go into my inventory.”
“Try folding it up,” suggested the queen.
As Gelkorus folded the hole, the circular portal became a semi-circle. It continued to shrink closed. Realizing that this could be ler last chance to leave the portable hole, she darted for the rapidly closing exit. By the time she reached it, the outline was completely gone, and the inside of the portable hole was cast into darkness.
Trista panicked. She no longer had a way out of Pan’s portable hole. She’d be stuck here until that Gelkorus person unfolded it. There was no way out, no way to even see or hear the outside world.
She collapsed to the floor, cupping her hands over her head in frustration. She had only just come back to life, and she’d already gotten trapped in a pocket universe. Gelkorus was taking the portable hole to the human lands, which was the last place she wanted to go. Her plans to apologize to Tasha would have to wait until after she escaped.
