The Butcher of Gadobhra

It was sometime in the waning hours of night. The Dregs in Hungrytown had settled into their crypts, fearing to be caught when the sun came up. The endless dance hadn't ended, but it had certainly slowed, settling into slow patterns with none of the energy seen earlier in the night. The Beastwoods was nervous, and all creatures hid from the wrath of the Great Beast. If one was watching from the vantage point of the telescope mounted on the top of the ACME building, you might have seen a lone figure stumbling unsteadily into the large courtyard. Of course, no one actually was using the telescope, since the drunken figure making a late-night stroll was in fact the Baron himself.

Billy had drunk more after Ozzy had left and his blood-soaked Baroness had returned. Layla had been in high spirits. Killing and butchering animals seemed to be a new passion she would be happy to repeat. She showed off her increased STR score by soundly beating him in arm wrestling and tossing him over her shoulder. That, more than anything else motivated him at the moment. Losing to Layla on any level wasn't acceptable. And there was no doubt that she'd use her new muscles to dominate parts of their relationship.

He had only a vague plan of how he would attack the problem, but it was a modus operandi he had used to quite a bit of success when dealing with people at ACME. It involved a mixture of bravado, hard work, and not giving a damn about the consequences. It was like part of brain drew a line in the sand, and if that line got crossed, his self-preservation took a back seat to winning at all costs.

The four bottles of wine currently in his belly were helping immensely. The normal fog to his thinking from his role as Baron was replaced by the fog of alcohol. The latter he had much more experience with and it was going to help him to deal with the former.

He made a mental note to himself that keeping up with his Butcher in a night of drinking wasn't possible. Ozzy had demolished his wine cellar with a casual ease that wasn't humanly possible by anyone with a working liver. The man had certainly taken advantage of the situation to enjoy himself. Billy was out of wine and out of cigars. Rather than be upset at an underling pulling such moves, Billy was delighted. He was gaining insight into how Ozzy worked. The man could switch from underling to equal in a second, and then lecture Billy like he was the teacher and Billy the new student. He knew his fine wines and appreciated a good cigar. Tonight, he had dealt with the real Ozzy, not a simple worker who clapped and yelled ‘Huzzah’ at the right time.

Of more concern to Billy, was that he was totally outclassed in blowing smoke rings. Billy had years of practice and yet he paled in comparison to the Butcher who had created complicated creations that floated up to the ceiling or moved around the room. Confusingly, he had kept making them somehow even after they were out of cigars. Billy tucked that thought away for later investigation. Right now, he had serious work to do.

Marching up to the towering statue in the courtyard, Billy stared at it for a full minute. Then he finished his wine and threw the bottle at it, scattering glass and leaving a few drops left in the bottle to run down the statues face. Then dropping his trousers, he relieved himself on the statue and flipped it off. "Think you're in charge? You can piss off starting tonight." Billy straightened his pants and after pulling a cleaver out of his belt, began walking in the direction of the stockyards.

Minutes later, after the Baron was making his way through the rubble somewhere between the ACME building and the Butcher's Guild, the statue stirred. "My, did I do something to upset the little fellow? I'm thinking he didn't like the little nudges I was giving him. I do like this new direction though, highly amusing to say the least! I suppose I'll have to watch patiently and see what he does next.”

What Billy did next was head to the Butcher's Guild. It wasn't difficult to find, even with the sun just barely beginning to get up. A pathway of sorts wound between the rubble. He had almost attained the dubious safety of the guild hall when he heard a garbled howl behind him. Turning, Billy saw was looked like a wolf that someone had pulled the skin off of and then added a few extra steaks to. It was vaguely houndlike, but mostly made of meat. Without further introductions it raced at Billy and grabbed his lower left leg in its mouth and began shaking him.

"Damnit, that hurts!". The cleaver Billy had found had a long enough handle that he could grip it with both hands. He slammed it down on the Minor Charnel Daemon, cutting through meat and gristle. When that didn't stop it from chewing his leg to gristle, he kept hitting it. After several more slashes, it dropped to the round. Billy did the same, his arms aching. It took quite a bit of effort to pry the thing's mouth from off his leg. Blood was flowing from the wound, but not so fast that he thought it was an artery. From his pouch he took a healing potion and downed it. The taste was an ugly mix of cherry and cough medicine. He wondered if they made alcoholic potions? Suzette would know, he'd have to ask. After two potions, he was ready to get moving again, but was interrupted by a congratulatory announcement:

First Kill!

Congratulations, you managed to kill a level 3 Charnel Daemon. Normally that wouldn't earn you any experience, but we'll give you a bonus since you didn't bother to kill anything at all in Tier 1! Isn't that just typical for nobility? I can't help but notice that your class gains two melee weapons besides Sword, and you haven't chosen them. I'll assign Cleaver as one of those open slots so you can get some experience using it. Who knows? Maybe you'll kill something else!

You have gained 50 points in Cleaver

You have gained 50 points in STR.

You have gained Rank1 in Cleaver.

You have gained Rank1 in STR bringing your STR to a total of 1.

You have gained the option of buying the skill: Daemon Slayer with Core Skill Points.

You took 340 points of damage in that fight. Your healing potions stopped the bleeding and healed +100 health, leaving you at 1010 Health.

Billy read the notice three times, and then looked at his character sheet. He chuckled. Was this what gamers liked about fighting? The instant gratification of getting better? It certainly beat months of hard work at ACME while you waited to see how much of the credit Vern stole from you.

It also hurt like hell when things bit you. But the pain did seem to go away quickly.

He stood upright, tested his leg, and stumbled towards the Butcher's guild. In the pre-dawn light, the building looked like a cross between a hermit's hovel and a church. White marble was used as much for the building's walls as was rotten, stained wood. He banged repeatedly on the wooden door until a groggy voice yelled out.

"Go away. The guildhall is closed until at least noon! We've already done all the butchering for the day!"

Billy considered a moment, and then kicked the door again. "I don't give a shit what time it is! Open the damned door or I'll rescind your charter and Gadobhra can have a Baker's Guild instead!"

A moment later, Gristle threw the door open, wringing his hands. "OH MY! I am so sorry, your excellency! Your workers had me going until the later hours and I'd just fallen asleep, please do come in!" Gristle had been taken by surprise, but decades of experience in groveling to Barons and Butchers had honed his skill to high levels. Billy found himself seated in a wooden chair next to a small table, and Gristle produced a shot glass and bottle. "I hope this is to your liking? One of your predecessors was fond of it".

Billy took a sip of the aged, single malt whiskey. It went down smoothly with a rich taste. He nodded that it was acceptable.

Gristle relaxed. "What can I do for you today, your excellency?"

Billy tossed him a bag of coins. "The same as you did for The Baroness. Add me to your list of honorary butchers. If I'm going to be Baron of this place, I should learn its main trade. But we need to do something about this place. It's not bad, but I was expecting something a bit more....uh...something. Something classier. We’ll have to work on it."

"Oh, I agree sir, I agree. Lack of funds have been the problem. The butchers in the dungeon pay their fees, but the Hoard keeper refuses to pass the money along. It's quite distressing." Gristle had added 'The Baron' in large charcoal letters on the wall where he had made a list of honorary members. "I'm getting a woodworker to start on a much better plaque, I promise. Things were just quite busy today."

"Take your time. End of the week is good enough to avoid my anger. Thanks for the bottle, time I got to work." Billy took the bottle of whiskey with him. "And if there's more of this to be had, let me know. My chief of staff will see you are reimbursed." Billy staggered outside, with Gristle holding the door for him.

"You're going to be butchering on your own? Do you need any assistance sir? I'd be happy to help!" Gristle was horrified at the thought of the Baron trying to deal with the next beast to be slaughtered, a nasty 6-legged lizard with a poisonous sting on its tail.

Billy looked at the corral full of four-foot-long lizards. "Sure, slam one on the table and I'll cut it up." Gristle hurried to the corral, summoning a long hook and chain. Like some sort of fisherman, he hooked a Stinging Basilisk and drug it out of the enclosure. It immediately tried to sting him but he caught the tail in his other hand. Holding in by the neck and the tail he walked to Billy and slammed on the wooden butchering table. Billy brought his cleaver down on its neck in a double-handed hit. The creature hissed but the wound was shallow.

"Well struck, your excellency! Perhaps a few more whacks? They have a thick hide!"

Seventeen more whacks and the Stinging Basilisk died, and Billy began to cut it apart. Gristle called out helpful instructions. "The Butcher prefers these gutted and the tails removed. Do be careful around the gizzards and the kidneys."

Your group has killed a Stinging Basilisk

Well done. These creatures yield a bonus to experience due to their deadly venom.

You have earned 150 experience in Cleaver

You have earned 150 experience in STR.

You

Billy understood what guts were, but was hazy on gizzards and kidneys. He managed to slice open the belly and was pulling out the insides when he grabbed too tightly on a black, bean-shaped organ and it ruptured. He had a moment of pain and then his body turned to stone and then crumbled to rubble.

Gristle was horrified. "OMG...OMG...This is not going to go over well on my resume. Luckily the Baroness seems to be the ambitious type. Maybe I'll even get a reward."

Oops! You have to be careful around those kidneys! They store extra venom in those organs, but I'm sure you knew that.

You have died!

Because you have the Perk: Death is no Barrier; you will resurrect in 24 seconds.

Billy appeared 24 seconds after his death next to the statue in his courtyard.

He looked up at the demonic statue sitting motionless above him. "Yeah, go ahead and laugh. Not done yet." Ten minutes later he was banging on the door to the Guild Hall. "Get your ass out here Gristle, we have stuff to kill!"

The Guild master was surprised and very frightened. Walking back from death, even for Contract Workers, took much longer than a few minutes. What other fell powers did this Baron Possess? He hurried to catch up with Billy, giving him a non-stop lesson in Basilisk anatomy. From then on Billy was careful with the poisonous organs, putting them into their own bucket before Gristle shoveled the rest into a large pit.

The first carcass got tossed into the small cave opening. Billy watched it slide down into the dungeon. "So, this is how the big, bad butcher gets all the meat for his dungeon? And he uses that to make monsters and power his magic? Seems like this is quite the essential part of the operation."

Gristle was so happy the Baron understood. Billy was quite thoughtful for a few minutes, while Gristle struggled with the next oversized lizard. Billy managed to take the next one out in only thirteen hits, and didn't die skinning it. The morning continued. Grab a lizard, play whack-a-mole until it was dead, process, toss, and repeat. Billy was just getting the hang of it when on the seventh Basilisk, things went bad.

The seventh was a parent, with its offspring on its back. The young one fell off and tried stinging Gristle who did a complicated dance to avoid its tail, while holding the full sized one above his head. Billy ran over and hit the baby from behind, killing it. The enraged mother doubled its struggles as Billy tried to kill it and Gristle held it to the ground. After a dozen hits, Gristle's hand slipped on the tail, and Billy took a stinger in his chest, killing him instantly. Two stomps from Gristle finished the basilisk, and he drug it and its progeny to the butchering table. Billy appeared ten minutes later, drinking the last of the bottle of whiskey. "Ok, let's keep going until my next death, and then you can call it a day."

"Excellent plan, Baron William."

All told, Billy managed twelve of the ugly lizards before dying to clumsiness when he nicked a gizzard. Gristle finished up the job, then crawled back to his bed. He was overjoyed to have such an enthusiastic and powerful patron. Things were looking up!

Bill appeared at the statue, stood up and stretched. Looking up, he yelled out. "Hey, we need to talk!"

Slowly, the statue animated. "Oh, certainly, it's the least I can do after your amusing antics of the morning! What should we talk about?"

"How about we talk about you staying out of my head so I can get things done."

"But...I was just being helpful! If you want to be my Baron, you need to concentrate on me!"

"Except that it's counterproductive. You understand that concept? When I'm designing dance halls and torture rooms, I'm not taking over the rest of the world and bending it to my will."

"Wait...You were serious about conquering the world through finances? I thought that was just some creative drivel from a minion looking for a ceremonial job. Power and swords conquer, not money."

"You thought wrong. Dead wrong. And if you keep thinking that way, it's going to cost you."

"Oh dear, you'll level a fine on me?! Cut my allowance? I'm quivering Is that how you'll hurt me with 'finances'?

"Nope. I'll cut my losses, go turn Sedgewick into powerhouse of money and influence and base my empire from there. You will be an ugly footnote, and a place for pigeons to take a dump on. Forgotten again.”

"Oh please? And I'll have another Baron who walks through that gate in a week. Please, I'd appreciate better threats than that."

"How's this then? I have my workers block off your city with ten-ton slabs of stone, have my druid replant the forest, and have my Franklin repair the fancy defense system? You think I haven't been making plans since I first opened up the city? If you aren't a positive on the balance sheet, I'll shut you down and move on!"

"How DARE you SIR! I am GADOBHRA."

"Yeah, and I'm the Baron!"

A huge fist came down on Billy, leaving only an ugly smear on the cobblestones. "The nerve of that mortal!" The statue vented its rage, swatting at the pigeons that liked to nest on its head. The pigeons were faster than Billy and the only result was giving them some exercise.

"Hard to Kill, aren't they? Sort of like cockroaches and annoying Barons. You ready to talk, or do I scamper out the gate and start my crew working on sealing you up?"

"You're really becoming quite annoying, you know that?

"I try. But what annoys me, is you not understanding money. Money can buy swords, and swords can make money. Everyone expects you to raise an army and march down into the empire. They prepare for that. No one expects that we'll take it over without using an army."

"But armies are fun!

"So is making someone kneel in front of you because you control the wheat monopoly. Think about it! It takes time to raise and train and army, and lots of money. Takes far less time to buy one if we need it. And we haven't even started on politics! That's another weapon we can use. Politics and money go hand in hand, and either can multiply the force of an army."

The statue was silent, sulking and measuring the distance from its fist to the little human that was just out of range.

"So what's it going to be, big guy? Footnote or your foot on the emperor’s throat? Time put on some big-boy pants and make a decision."

"I do like the idea of my foot crushing down on that little turd in his piss-ant city. If you are victorious, I demand a statue of that!"

"Now we're talking. Let them respect as long as they also fear."

"OH! I like that?! But you have to sweeten the deal. You don't walk out of here unscathed. You and you're vicious little Baroness have to accept a small gift from me. One that ties you close. If you don't want me in your head, then I'll stamp myself on your heritage!"

Billy was hazy on heritage, but it seemed to be a big bonus for his workers. The whiskey was also saying it was a good bargain. "Let's do it."

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