The Ogre's Tale - Chapter 2[Patreon Exclusive Bonus]

The Ogre’s Tale, Chapter 2

What the fuck?! Max windmilled for a second, before wrapping himself around the duffle bag and struggling to right himself so that the bag hit first.

He struck slender branches, slowing his fall. The lighter branches gave way to thicker ones that didn’t give way. 

Max grunted in pain as the second impact broke a rib, and cried out when the next impact broke his shin. When the final impact came, he could do nothing but breathe raggedly and stare at the two moons in the sky. 

“Two...?” he wheezed. Oh god, it hurt. It hurt more than second Fallujah, and he just wanted to lay there and die.

“Morgan...” He had to get up. He had to move. His little girl needed him, and that knowledge allowed him to dig into reserves he didn’t know he had. He tried moving parts of his body. He was relieved when his feet twitched, but winced when he realized his leg was broken. Miraculously, most of his left side was untouched. He rolled onto it, hissing in pain.

Max lay on his side for a minute or two, collecting himself. He had somehow managed to retain his grip on the bag, and he sighed in relief. Having his bug-out bag with him was a stroke of fortune that made him smile. He unbuckled the bag with one hand and fished around inside for a pair of Vicodin, which he chewed, grimacing. He followed it with one of his few precious bottles of Gatorade, and gingerly levered himself to a sitting position. He wanted a look at that leg.

Max took his pocket knife, slit his pant leg from kneecap to ankle, and folded the cloth back. He grimaced; that was an ugly break. 

“This is really going to hurt.” 

The clearing Max had landed in was clearly artificial, and had been made by someone. A series of carefully spaced rough-hewn stones, dotted around a 100-foot-tall tree, on top of a large mound. The tree was pale, and bore some kind of large fruit, many of which were freshly on the ground due to Max bouncing off the top branches. The stones were scribed with runes, and at the base of the tree, bracketed by roots, was a hole going into the mound.

Max found a likely shaped root, and with much cussing, managed to get his ankle situated in the crook of the root. Bracing with his good leg, and grabbing another root with both hands, he pulled. 

It was quite possibly the worst pain he’d ever experienced, as the two halves of the bone slide back into place. He screamed and dropped to the ground, gasping. “Fuck, I think I pissed myself.”

Max lay there panting for a moment before gingerly unhooking his ankle from the roots. He lay on his side, rummaging in his bag, and pulled out a small first aid pouch. He cleaned the wounds on his leg, did his best to clean his whole shin, and then bandaged his injuries. Once that was done, he fished around in the duffle and grabbed the tool roll of ‘torture implements’. He took off a paracord bracelet, and a roll of duct tape came from the bag. He emptied most of the tools out of the tool roll and wrapped it around his leg, leaving a few of the longer knives in the roll to provide stiffness. After that, he used a mix of duct tape and paracord from the bracelet to make a makeshift cast.

He followed this with a third Vicodin. “Don’t get greedy, Max.”

The air was warm, and the sky was a clear blue. The only thing that convinced Max something was seriously wrong was all the plants looked wrong. That, and the two moons in the daytime sky.

He thought about this for a long time…

Eventually, he spoke. “Pascal’s wager.

“Either I’ve had a stroke or something, and I’m hallucinating wildly, or this is real. If I treat it like it’s real, I should survive, and if it’s not real, I probably haven’t harmed myself anyhow, because I’ve tried not to do anything stupid.”

Anything else stupid, you mean. Max winced at the reminder from his internal voice. He was so going to prison when the world started making sense again. He put those thoughts aside and began to focus on the task at hand. Surviving.

“Step one, take inventory.” Max opened the duffle bag and started going through the contents. A stun gun. Flashlight. Couple of sets of spare batteries. Solar charger. Six MREs, four pairs of socks, four pairs of underpants, four t-shirts. Sweat pants. A poncho. A poncho liner. A Molle-based LBE that doubled as a plate carrier. A second, unopened medical kit. A pair of decent sneakers. Three quarts of gatorade. Four large bags of jerky. A large bottle of penicillin. A large bottle of Vicodin. A liter of decent vodka. Water purification pills. A water filter. Fire starter. Tinder. One of those tiny stoves, and a baggie of thermatabs. Two canteens. A Glock G21 and six 20-round magazines. The Colt. Five seven round magazines, plus the one in the pistol.  And a rifle case. He opened the case and assembled the highly-illegal stubby M4 clone, carefully inspecting it to make sure it had survived the drop. He counted the seven magazines in the case, inspecting them as well. He took a magazine and slid it into the mag well, pulling the charging handle. “That’s better.”

Max loaded all his loot onto his LBE harness and started to put it on, before the stab in his ribs reminded him he had unfinished business to deal with. He grunted and used the last of the duct tape to stabilize his rib. “That’s going to suck to take off…” he grumbled, but it worked. “Next time, two rolls of tape.”

Max gingerly got his LBE on and snugged it tight, providing an extra layer of stabilization for his busted rib. After that, he crawled over to a smaller tree and used a kukri to chop it down. Taking his pocket knife, he began to whittle. After about an hour, and a little paracord, he’d managed to make a decent crutch that would hold his weight. He used a tree to pull himself upright and began to make a painfully slow and careful survey of his immediate area. 

This place is weird as hell, Max thought for a moment. Come to think of it, it might be hell. I don’t know.

Max hobbled over to the branches he’d broken on the way down and collected them to make a lean-to to hang the poncho on, making a small shelter. He collected the fruit, looking at it suspiciously. “Damndest thing I’ve seen in a while. Still, it looks edible. Put it aside for now, I guess.” He made a pile of the softball-sized fruit, while stripping the branches and cunningly whittling a frame inside the poncho hang, then laid out his woobie and crawled inside. He ate an entire MRE, and after camouflaging his hide as best as he could, given the circumstances, Max went to sleep.

He awoke to the sound of voices, arguing…

“I’m just saying, it’s not like she’s going to tell anyone.”

“No, you can’t fuck her. Sacrifices generate more power when they’re virginal.”

“We could go get another one…”

“Ah, for… quit whining. If you’ll just shut up, I’ll buy you two whores when we get back.”

“...deal.”

Max frowned. This didn’t sound good, at all. He poked his head out of the hide. It was late, but the two moons gave excellent light. He wriggled around in his hide and slid the barrel of his rifle out, moving like a ghost, even with his injuries. He crawled across the crest of the mound, sticking close to the tree in case he needed to use it for cover. He saw a line of robed figures walking through the night, carrying a bundle strapped to a pole. His eyes narrowed. No, not a bundle, a person. Short, with long dark hair. Was it Morgan? Hard to tell. It might be. 

“Who cares? I see fuckers who need killing.” Max grinned, thumbed the selector switch to ‘fire’, and picked out the asshole at the back of the line. The little carbine cheerfully belched out a bullet with an abrupt crack! that the also-illegal suppressor struggled to muffle. 

Two things happened. Firstly, the little column stopped dead and started looking around. Secondly, the robed figure at the end of the column dropped to the ground without a sound. 

“What was that noise?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“What happened to Johan?”

...Crack! the second to last in the column, who had been bending over the deceased Johan, dropped to the deck with a scream and lay there, thrashing and screaming. The two figures carrying the woman strapped to the pole began to run.

Toward the tree. 

Toward Max.

“The hell?” Max would worry about it later. Right now, there were targets to service. His blood sang, and for the first time in years, he felt alive. He didn’t even notice the [system] notices.

Crack-crack-crack-crack-crack! said Max’s little carbine, happily spitting out death, unconcerned about the weirdness it’s owner was currently in the middle of.

When there were no targets left moving under their own power, Max crawled out of his hide and levered himself to his feet, hobbling awkwardly, his carbine hanging on a sling as he gimped across the battlefield heading for the prisoner. He’d need to move fast; he was certain at least one of the maggots had escaped. 

By the time he reached the prisoner, he realized something was…not right with his leg. Or rather, not wrong. He felt like he could put weight on it. “Better not, it’s just the adrenaline talking.” 

He leaned on his crutch over the woman tied to the pole. “Ma’am? I’m gonna cut you off that pole now; please don’t wiggle, I wouldn’t want to cut you.”

The bound and gagged woman held very still as Max cut her free. He leaned on his crutch, breathing heavy. “You gonna be ok, Ma’am?”

The woman laughed shakily. “I’ve been kidnapped, sold to necros, and almost sacrificed. No, I am not ok.”

“I meant are you bleeding or hurt.”

“Oh…I...no, I do not seem to be hurt.”

“Well, that’s good. My name’s Max, and I don’t know where I am. Can you help me?”

The woman looked at Max and her eyes widened a little. “You’re a World Walker.” 

“I’m a what?”

“Ah... this is complicated. My name is Shyia, and you are very far from your home. I will collect the mules if you’ll hold them. “

“Ah…sure!” That was smooth, you jarheaded idiot.

Max leaned on his crutch and waited, surrounded by cooling corpses.

Shyia came back with the first mule quickly. She flashed Max a smile. “I’ll be right back.” She headed out to catch the other mule. Max smiled awkwardly and held the reins. The mule stared at Max, and Max stared back. 

Ding!

“What the fuck was that?”

You have defeated [Necro Cultist(lvl 5)]

+100 experience gained.

Max stared at the silver script floating in the air in front of himself. “That’s…a thing.

“What the hell are you?”

You have defeated [Necro Cultist (lvl 5)]

+100 experience gained.

“You already said that, whatever the hell you are.”

You have defeated [Necro Cultist (lvl 5)]

+100 experience gained.

You have defeated [Necro Cultist (lvl 6)]

+100 experience gained.

You have defeated [Necro Cultist (lvl 4)]

+100 experience gained.

You have defeated [Necro Cultist (lvl 7)]

+100 experience gained.

You have defeated [Necro Cultist (lvl 5)]

+100 experience gained.

You have defeated [Necro Cultist (lvl 3)]

+100 experience gained.

You have defeated [Necro Cultist (lvl 13)]

+100 experience gained.

You have reached Level 2! Health and Status partially restored!

You have reached Level 3! Health and Status partially restored!

You have reached Level 4! Health and Status partially restored!

You have reached Level 5! Health and Status partially restored!

You have reached Level 6! Health and Status partially restored!

30 distributable Stat Points awarded.

30 Skill Points awarded.

Skill purchases unlocked! (Check available skills through your Status Menu)

“The hell is a status menu?”

Silver Text hung in the air in front of Max.

Status Information for: Maxwell Mackenzie

Level - 6

Primary Class: [Locked]

Secondary Class: [Locked]

Health - 68/90

Stamina - 34/50

Mana - 25/26

STR - 5

AGI - 5

CON - 7

VIT - 7

INT - 5

Stat points available to distribute: 30

Current Skills: None

Basic Skills now available for purchase!

Skill Points available: 30

Titles, Mantles, and Aspects

[Worldwalker (Title)] - You have travelled through the void between the many worlds! Every world is different, each with its own gifts and dangers. To help you survive strange new places, you gain a slight boost to health and an increased ability to learn new things! (+50 to Health, +50% increased gains to Skill Experience)

[Necrobane (title)] - You have made a specialty of killing Necro cultists, giving you extra effectiveness and experience gains when facing these foes.

When Shyia returned with the second mule, the silvery letters were still in front of Max’s face. 

“Ah… Shyia? Is it normal to see letters floating in mid air around here?”

Shyia smiled brightly. “Oh! You levelled, congratulations!”

Max stared at her for a long moment. “Levelled? My kids used to play D&D, what do you mean levelled’?”

“You’re.. You’re from another place, you see. Your world works differently than here. The [System] controls how people level. It’s.. it’s just there.”

“The [System]? What the hell is that? Who is that? Is it a god?”

“No, no! The [System] is.. Well it just is. It’s not a people, or a place, or a god. It’s… it’s like water, or dirt. It just is.”

Max thought about this for a minute. “So.. it’s like physics or something?”

“What’s ‘physics’?”

“Oh boy, this is going to be a long night.” Max sighed in frustration. “Tell you what, let’s get this mess cleaned up, shall we? I’m pretty sure those dead tangoes have something useful on them.”

Max tested his leg gingerly.. “Funny, I’d swear this leg was fully healed, but I broke it not six hours ago.”

“Well, you must have levelled more than once then, which would have healed your leg.”

“That makes no sense.”

“And your ‘physics’ does?”

“...dammit.”