The Legend of William Oh

He’s not gonna stand for this!

You don’t just kidnap a legend’s hype man and live to tell about it! I am critical to the advancement of the story! Hey! Get that away from m—

‘Muffled angry noises’

• Jason Salazar

Case file 8934: Ashwood

‘I don’t understand. How is The Prophet on their side this time? We were far too late to bring him in because we thought he couldn’t possibly be the right one. He’s supposed to be warning people about the end of the world, not singing its damned praises.’

‘He’s never been friends with one before. And five silver is five silver.’

‘…This is not a joking matter.’

Grinding on the 3rd floor consisted of Flammenwulf hunting. One of the few spawns on the floor that retained its meat after the Miasma left its body.

That and the Lava Beetles.

Will, Travis and Carrie spent a couple days hunting the crispy critters. At first, it was a bit surprising dealing with wolves that popped and squealed like burning wood, and had a tendency to burp up fire on you, but once they got used to the creatures pack tactics, they quickly got the hang of things, turning a tidy profit on Flammenwulf meat.

Loth’s kobold minions acted as the flushers, waving big sticks with brightly colored fronds on them to startle the flammenwulf towards the three of them, at which point Travis would gain their attention long enough for Carrie and Will to execute them.

They managed to get to level 13 in the two days it took for Loth to become fully healed.

The relics dropped by the Flammenwulf were largely spent filling the keg full of Relic dust.

Very little of what those creatures dropped even came close to the power of the Relics they’d looted from Travis’s ancestral home.

Which was still on fire, judging by the smog to the northwest.

So, into the keg the Relics went.

Will spent two nights using the steel rasp to file down a single Relic into the keg, removing inch by painstaking inch of the sword’s handguard, until in a moment that he didn’t expect, the magic of the Relic unraveled.

The relic instantly turned into a powdery, ash-like substance. A flask of Miasma left the Relic, but the ash itself gave off an iridescent blue miasma-like color with faint flashes of blue as it crumbled.

There was still a little bit in there.

Frowning, Will reached down under the relic dust and found the metal shavings from when he’d been using the rasp.

Damnit.

Will dumped out the ash, cleaned the metal shavings out of the barrel, then went and bought himself a bolt-cutter and brought it back.

With a single snip, - made somewhat awkward with only one hand – the next Relic collapsed into dust, filling the bottom of the keg.

“There we go.”

Will fed the Relics no one wanted to…The Keg.

Once he was done, Will threw a smoke bomb during one of their hunts, using Sourdough as he did so.

When the smoke cleared, Will found a hard nodule with the same texture as the smoke bombs, lying where the smoke bomb had detonated.

The remaining 20%.

As he held it, Will was granted an inherent understanding of how Sourdough worked. He had three options:

#1: Use the nodule again to receive roughly 22% the effect of a smoke bomb. A little puff of smoke.

#2: Use Sourdough again as he used the nodule to receive 28% of a smoke bomb’s effect, with no nodule remaining. A slightly bigger puff of smoke.

#3: Bury the nodule in Relic dust to allow it to grow into a new smoke bomb, finishing in about 29¼ days.

Will buried the nodule in the Relic dust and watched as it began glowing. He held his hand over it and detected faint heat, like what might radiate off someone with a fever.

“It’s working!”

“Congratulations, you’re going to recreate a one-gold smoke bomb using several hundred gold worth of Relics over the course of a month.” Travis said.

“It’s to restore critical consumables on the highest floors where there are no shops, Travis. You know this.” Loth chided.

“…Fine. I know that. It’s just not that exciting.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” Will said with a shrug, putting the top of the keg on before Loth’s bugs picked it up and stacked it along the rest of their luggage.

Loth took the Ring of Regeneration off and slipped the Wolf Pack back on, causing their luggage to go from a jog to a sprinting pace.

She still had patches of scales that weren’t the same texture as the rest of it, but internally she was completely recovered. They hadn’t reached level 15 yet, but they would have to come back through the 3rd Floor on the way up, so there was no reason to stay until they capped out.

The four of them followed a bus going to the nearest Key Site, helped with the clear, and declared their intent to go down a Floor.

Will had a bit of an issue stepping through the Door, but he muscled through it, not interested in toppling off the side of a cliff again.

They landed in a clearing on the mountainside this time, proof that The Tower enjoyed messing with him, specifically. They cut their way through some harpies, skyhare and kaith to the nearest Stronghold, then said their goodbyes to Carrie.

Two days later they dropped down to the 1st Floor, and a day after that, they were back in the Hunting Grounds.

After a brief proof-of-life visit with Gertrude where he ensured that she wasn’t spending his hard-earned ivory on gold-embossed habits, Will and the rest of his Party headed to the big city, further away from The Tower, in the temperate ring where the population was much more dense, attracted by the mild weather that allowed crops to grow in abundance.

They didn’t see Jason on the way out. Apparently he’d been scouted as a crier for a popular printing press in The Ring and had started a career in propaganda.

This book\'s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Good for him…Reminds me of Bri’s bullshit story.

Will hoped to the gods the tale was legitimate and his younger protégé at the orphanage hadn’t been snapped up by predatory lords ever-so-eager to give disposable children valuable classes out of the goodness of their hearts.

Hopefully his con-artist father had made him wary of promises that were too good to be true.

Will stretched out on the crates of supplies and watched the world slide by.

Given Loth’s massive bonuses to speed and carrying capacity for any of her minions, they were able to pack up all their belongings in crates and have bugs carry them. Loth’s newest barrel was far bigger than she was, wide as a man spreading his arms, and nearly as tall. The squat barrel was subdivided by biome, each layer stacked on top of the one beneath it, just like The Tower itself. There was space for new insects up to the fifth floor. Once they got past that, Loth might have to get another barrel.

Less than an hour into their trek from Ashwood, Will had the brilliant idea to relax on top of the crates as they traveled.

Sure, the crates were uncomfortable, splintery and jostled around a bit under him as the insects navigated uneven terrain, but with an application of his bedroll and several nails to pin it down, Will was able to make them relatively comfortable.

Loth immediately outdid him with a silk hammock stretched between the crates, cooled by the breeze as they glided across the scenic landscape.

Will abandoned his amateurish design for a hammock, and the two of them watched in fascination as the familiar desert landscape ever-so gradually faded into farmland and cows. Cows and the occasional merchant caravan gawking at their self-moving pile of luggage supporting three hammocks.

Travis was not watching in fascination. His interest seemed to fade the further they got from The Tower.

A few days later, they lazed their way through the thickest of the farmland, and farms began giving way to a more urban environment.

It was Will’s first experience with a three-story building.

“look at that,” Will said, tapping Loth’s shoulder and pointing at the massive structure.

“That is a post office,” Travis said, rolling his eyes.

“A post office…” Will said, staring.

“Coool…” Loth said.

“You guys wanna see a big building?” Travis asked.

“Obviously,” Will said.

“Turn left here,” Travis said, pointing.

Their hammocks swerved on the street, weaving around pedestrians and large wagons of goods drawn by enormous draft horses that took equally enormous dumps.

Travis kept directing them for a half hour, the surrounding buildings gradually growing more and more gilt as they went.

They came to a halt in front of a massive wrought iron gate barring entry from a mansion that looked honestly…a little much.

I mean, what purpose does this enormous waste of money even serve?

There were little statues of water-monsters spitting water into pools of water, a garden…tittering young women wearing robes playing tag with each other on the grass.

On the other hand…I can see the appeal.

“Lady and Gentleman, this is the Oilton manor. It previously belonged to my father, Henry Oilton, but since his death, it will most likely pass on to-“

“Travis.” A voice called from the other side of the fence. It was a hollow-cheeked man of middle age. He would look like a scarecrow if he weren’t also short.

“Harold Oilton,” Travis said, motioning to the small, but angry-looking man.

“What do you want?” Harold asked, his voice clipped.

“I want to know where I stand with the family now that Father is dead.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do know that. I saw it with my own eyes.”

Harold let out a half-dozen muttered expletives.

“Come in, Thea and Roger are in town. We have much to talk about.”

Harold unlatched the gate, stepping out of the way. “Your friend and his creature can wait here.”

“No thanks,” Will said, brushing past Harold into the courtyard, scanning the beautiful environs, mentally calculating the amount of wealth he would have to have to acquire this sort of luxury.

The numbers just kept going up, until they lost their meaning entirely.

Harold sputtered at Will’s brazen entrance but Loth and Travis didn’t give him time to formulate a response.

“Brother, may I introduce William Oh, and Loth the Luminary.” Travis said.

“Wait…that Loth the Luminary?” Harold asked, glancing over at Will.

“That’s Loth,” Travis said, pointing at Loth, who performed a genteel nod.

“I refuse to believe that mindless trap-lizard is a Luminary.”

“Believe as you wish sir, but you may regret it.” Loth said.

“And this kid is…William Oh? Never heard of him.”

Will heaved a sigh of relief. Apparently Harold didn’t spend much time drinking in taverns, where making up exaggerated stories about him had become something of a drinking-game.

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear that,” Will said.

“Let’s go talk to Thea and Roger.” Travis said, leaving his middle-aged brother behind as he power-walked through the mansion, giving the rest of his party barely enough time to gawk at everything.

Will gawked as fast and hard as he could before they were swept into a room that looked somehow wetter than any room he’d ever been in before, but wasn’t wet.

“It’s lacquer,” Loth said, seemingly reading his mind as he ran his hand over the shiny wooden furniture.

“What’s lacker?”

“Sap or bug excretions, mostly,” Loth replied.

“Ah.” Will took his hand off the smooth furniture at ‘excretions’, recategorizing ‘lacquer’ as ‘shiny bug poop that rich people like’.

“Travis, so good to see you little brother!” A burly man with a Climber’s scars stepped around the side of the table dominating the center of the shiny room, wrapping the Master Decoy up in a hug.

“And who are these?” He asked, dropping the bug-eyed Travis to the floor.

“Loth the Luminary, and William Oh,” Will said, pointing at Loth and then himself.

“The Wiliam Oh?” the man presumably known as ‘Roger’ asked with a twinkle in his eye, revealing himself to be nearly seven feet tall as he stepped forward. He loomed over Will as he engulfed Will’s hand with one of his own ham-hands and proceeded to shake Will’s whole arm vigorously.

“My name’s Roger. You’ve got a nice firm grip. Strength Build?”

“It’s my lowest stat actually, so I compensate with Strength Relics.”

“Smart. A lot of people overspecialize and it gets them killed when something unexpected happens.”

“Yes. I find dying unpleasant,” Will joked.

“This guy gets it!”

“Roger, we’re discussing serious business here,” A woman just starting to show signs of aging – presumably Thea – said from the other side of the table. “Two shipments are overdue. Any more and we might go into default.”

“Oh, we’re definitely going into default,” Travis said, gaining the attention of everyone there. “Oilton is gone, and our investments in other areas simply aren’t enough to prevent the family from collapsing.”

“What do you mean gone?” Roger asked.

“Grab a seat.” Travis said, taking his own advice and pulling a shiny bug-shit chair away from the wall and sitting down.

Over the next hour, he told his siblings who ran the family about what he’d seen and done in the 3rd Floor, giving them time to digest their new status as common merchants rather than a Lord’s Family.

“Which is why I want to ask you for your support. Money and manpower, specifically.” Travis concluded.

“What? You want to loot a sinking ship!?” Harold said.

“Actually, that’s exactly it. It’s only our family and the Wyrd Lord that know Oilton is gone. Let’s loot the ancestral family home before our creditors can and use it to fund our sibling’s Climb. Treat them like seeds for the family’s future prosperity.

“And yours too, of course.” Thea said, thumbing her chin.

“Of course,” Travis said.

“That is an absolutely batshit insane plan that only a child with a fundamentally flawed view of how society works could conjure.” Roger said. “…I love it. I could go to the fourth floor and give the more delicate ones a piggy-back ride through the disease-infested waters.”

“I could act as Liaison on the fifth floor,” Thea mused. “I always liked it better there, anyway.”

“You’re not seriously considering such drastic measures, are you?” Harold asked, his skeletal jaw quivering with…some form of emotion.

“If he’s telling the truth, drastic measures are upon us. The Oilton family needs to change tack. Hard. If we’re to survive.” Thea said.

“You think that…BOY is telling the truth!? He’s been disowned!”

“I believe him. Except for the part where they weren’t responsible for Oilton lighting on fire. My guess is that seeing Mark Wyrd swooping in to take our birthright pissed him off so much he lit the city on fire in protest. Probably a trap set by this one here.” Roger said, pointing at Loth.

“No comment,” Loth said.

“Besides, they’re wearing some of the Relics from Father’s office. He’s definitely dead, and they couldn’t’ve done it. Story lines up.”

Oops. Roger didn’t seem to care they were wearing his dead father’s property though. Tower loot rules, I suppose.

“So you’ll fund our Climb!?” Travis asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Roger said, rubbing his chin. “Even with your insane proposal as inspiration, we’re still going to heavily meddle in our sibling’s party composition to make sure they have the best chance of success as they Climb. We want to make sure our money doesn’t go to waste.

If you want our money too, you’re going to have to provide solid evidence that your Party has what it takes.”

“Oh, crap,” Travis groaned.

“Add me to your Party so I can confirm your stats.”

Will glanced at Travis, who nodded.

Roger Oilton has joined the Party

Roger Oilton

Rustic Brawler Level 27

81 Strength

40 Kinesthetics

68 Resistance

27 Focus

54 Acuity

Charges: 24/27

Free Points: 0

Primary Abilities: Rub some Dirt On it, Tempered body

Secondary Abilities: Entangle, Improvised Weapons

Roger pursed his lips, scanning their stats.

“Oh my…you’re all high performers, aren’t you?” He asked, his gaze lingering on Will. “From a pure numbers perspective, you’ve got what it takes…Especially Mr. Oh. Twelve points per level? Fantastic...”

Travis groaned, burying his head in his hands. As did his older sister.

“But numbers aren’t everything! I need to see how you perform in a fight!”

“And there’s only one way to see how you fight…”As he spoke, Roger leaned down, his ham-fingers closing around a piece of bug-shit-covered furniture.

“OUTSIDE!” Thea screamed, pointing towards the door.