Flonk gives Alastrina the nickel tour

Alastrina drew out her staff in alarm, assuming her best approximation of a fighting position, but neither of the other creatures seemed particularly impressed or even interested in fighting, so she dropped it. “Flonk, who is your.. friend?”

“Oh, that’s Gary. He’s a hood wight,” was the answer, given in that way that implies as-everybody-knows, so Alastrina decided not to ask what a hood wight looked like or did. “Figured you might want to meet the local monsters.”

“Local monsters? But isn’t this a peaceful village?”

The creature Flonk called Gary turned towards Alastrina, and all she could make out were a pair of glowing yellow-green eyes in the blackness under the hood. “Peaceful starter village, ma’am. All your standard human towns have monsters outside, orders from the top. Starter villages are especially important, though, so we got assigned to Noobdale specifically.” Gary answered so matter-of-factly that Alastrina was a bit dumbfounded and put her staff back on her back. “Yeah, pretty good detail, actually,” the hood wight offered with a laugh. “Fresh air, sunshine, and we mostly get to work on our tans. I even learned how to make grass whistles!” With that, Gary plucked a long strand of rye and set to work putting it into his lips, which for a monster that only appeared to be a pair of glowing eyes inside of a tattered burlap robe, was an impressive stunt.

Alastrina wanted to ask why podunks like Noobdale were at all important to the Big Bad’s plan, but not wanting to appear entirely ignorant in front of the two monsters, she held her question. However, if she had asked the question, then the answer would have come across in the form of stilted dialogue, such as one character asking why and the other character going blah-blah and the other character going oh. If we instead use the much better narrative tool called shameless exposition, we can skip all the why and oh lines and find it a much more efficient use of everyone’s larynx. Or larynx equivalent; we don’t actually know if Flonk has a larynx without dissecting him. Or asking, I suppose, I mean he is intelligent, he might know his own anatomy. I’m not sure if Gary even has proper organs, to be honest; we’re just rolling with him being another monster type nobody has ever heard of, and really he’s not going to be dissected either so lets just assume he’s talking out of something that he has and move on.

Now, some amongst you might enjoy stilted dialogue and, remembering a page from your 7th grade writing instructor’s withered sense of creativity, insist upon “Blah blah blah,” said Flonk. And if you are really creative, you might put an adverb phrase in there too, such as said Flonk, resting upon a small dalmation, or even said Gary, failing to solve a Rubix cube, or perhaps said Flonk, simultaneously existing and not existing. Don’t worry, we’ll make sure to include a few of those in so that we don’t reduce a character into an obvious author mouthpiece.

“You see,” said Gary, opening the Seventh Seal, “The Big Bad’s really all about convention. You’re nobody in the Big Bad club unless you have scrappy underdog heroes gaining strength and skills in an attempt to stop your plans and eventually overthrow you. I hear tell from a couple of monsters that every month a lot of the overlords get together for meetings, and they go on and on about the number of heroes they defeated recently. Guess its kinda bragging rights for them or something,” he shrugged, setting fire to a golden lion tamarin.

“I see,” said Alastrina, because she didn’t want to just say “oh.”

“So hick filled backwaters like this are kinda like farming talent,” Flonk agreed, converting dollars into drachma. “Every level 99 hero starts off as a level 1 hero, hitting rats with wooden swords and cashing in 10 rat tails for a tattered pair of socks to upgrade their gear with. If we just rolled in an army of ogres and stomped everything flat, there wouldn’t be any way a hero could resist hitting them with their wooden swords, and that would mean a lot of flat, dead level 1 heroes.”

Alastrina paused, considering. “So is that why we fought stronger monsters as we moved ahead on the quest? None of the monsters we fought earlier appeared as we made progress; that’s by design?”

Both of the two monsters nodded vigorously. “So a while back, the Big Bad sent a lot of us crappier monsters ahead to infiltrate all the wild places outside of towns and whatnot,” Gary said with a hint of a smile, but since he didn’t appear to have a mouth, it was a very little hint. “Your pal Flonk over there is like one of the crappiest monsters there are, so his lot got sent in to places just like here!”

“Watch it,” hissed Flonk, making sounds from areas along his maggot-like body that in no way resembled a larynx.

“Hey, hood wights too,” shrugged Gary. “If you want to pretend it makes sense, then think about it this way; bigger tougher monsters would be met by armies and whatnot, so they’d be battling back and forth and the invasion would be stopped. Smaller fry like us, though, we get to sneak past the lines pretty easily and set up camp outside of villages without anybody being able to catch wise. Sure, all the local peasants know we’re here, but is the king going to send out a legion of troops to catch a handful of flammoggats and goblins? No way,” he finished, waxing a surfboard.

“Yeah, but really its all about making sure there’s wimpy monster types around for would-be heroes to bang wooden weapons on and farm for our lunch money,” grumbled Flonk. “All noble sacrifices to make sure The Big Bad has something to say over coffee cakes at meetings.”

The human looked back and forth between the two monsters, not knowing what to say. For them to be moved like pawns, simply to be sacrificed for the ego of The Big Bad, who didn’t care one whit that they were intelligent creatures, or, even if they weren’t, to throw away their lives for no real purpose. “…” said Alastrina.

“Job’s a job,” bowed Gary. “So hey, uh, human, can you do me a favor?”

“Certainly, Gary, anything I can to help out!” she brightened, hoping to free the monster from his oppression.

“If you’re going to be around here for a little bit, can you come by and stomp around in this thick grass here? We’ll send out a few monsters to fight you, nothing too much to handle, mind, and when you’re needing a nap, you can go back to the inn in town and rest up.”

Alastrina looked horrified. “What? I can’t do that! If anything you have convinced me that you all are in a situation you never asked to be in; why would I contribute to your misery?”

Gary’s glowing eyes shifted left to right in a shady manner. “Uh, so we got quotas to fill, about how many fights we get into with PCs.. Uh, your kind.. And if we don’t get our numbers, lets just say it doesn’t go so good for us. It’d really be helping us out if you could come by and beat on a few monsters from time to time. You’ll get some experience and gold too, maybe some items, so kind of a win-win situation really.”

“That’s very kind of you to offer,” Alastrina quietly said. “In truth, I..” She paused, not knowing how to say that she was underleveled for the area Flonk first encountered her in because she wasn’t in very many fights and missed out on experience when she was traveling with the Hero and his lot. Finally, she was able to say it in non-gaming terms that of course she wouldn’t use. “I know I have a lot to learn, and if every hero who opposes The Big Bad must make progress in this way to stand a chance of defeating him, then I will do what I must to become strong as well. Thank you, Gary. I appreciate the opportunity a lot.”

“Hey no problem! Thanks for helping us out too!” he winked a glowing eye.

“Alright, alright,” muttered Flonk. “Don’t go stealing the spotlight, Gary, she’s got important main character stuff to get on to.”

“Don’t forget you owe me 20g, Flonk!” waved the hood wight cheerily as he dove back into the grass.

Gary, the hood wight. Smiling for the picture, as far as you know.

A cleric, a monster, and a has-been walk into a bar…

Later, after the crowds died back for the late afternoon, the trio were sipping drinks at, unsurprisingly, a sports bar within the grounds of the Splizzball museum. Jo was interrupted several times by well wishers hoping to get him to mime a pitching stance with them or throw something at them; but for the most part, they were left alone. Flonk had been warned to stop helping himself to the free happy hour appetizers, but Flonk pointed up at the sign detailing “All you can eat” and told the innkeeper that yes, Flammogats could indeed read. He was toddling back to the table with another plate of chicken wings as Jo asked Alastrina what brought her to the museum.
“Well, Flonk, obviously, knows more about Splizzball than I could hope to, but honestly this is mostly a sidequest for us.”

“Sidequest? Like, you two are heroes, kinda sidequest?”

“Three of us, if Pox catches back up to us,” Flonk added, stuffing a wing whole into his beak. “Here’s to hoping our sidequest here was to ditch her. Oh hey, mission accomplished! I think I gained a level, Alastrina. Ding! I learned Eat Wings!”

“No fooling, you two really are heroes. I didn’t think there’d be two groups of heroes around..” The pair looked at Jo, then at each other.

“You really flatter us, but I’m afraid we are not the heroes. Or at least, not The Hero. He.. Is not with us at present.”

“I can’t be a hero, anyway, I’m a monster.” The barkeeper loudly agreed with Flonk from afar.

“Ah, well yeah, I can see that. But you’re on some kinda main quest, then?”

Alastrina glanced at Flonk, who made a shrug that seemed to convey eh, why not? “You see, we.. Well, I, anyway, was with The Hero to stop The Big Bad. We ended up.. Well, that’s not really honest to say, separated. In truth.. I think I got left behind.”

Jo stroked his chin and took a large sip from his beer, then leaned forwards. “So, this guy you’re talking about. Lemme guess: Improbable hair, large sword, doesn’t talk much? Runs with some sorta robot and archer chick?” Flonk coughed out a wing bone at that last bit, while Alastrina sat upright in astonishment. “Yeah, I know him. Recruited me a season back; was going to train his team how to play Splizzball and win the championship. Big sword prize for the winner, so you kinda can see where his motivations were. Signed me out of my regular contract, too, promise of good pay and steady work.”

Flonk casually swept the bone off the table with a spindly little finger. “Lemme guess.. He didn’t keep you on after seeing you pitch.”

“So there I was, gunning for a miniboss with him and the archer chick. Some kinda giant skeleton crow; didn’t make any sense at all, but hey, different league, different game. Things are going well; was a tough fight, but hey, almost had him down. Then the archer chick dropped; lucky punch. I had the item sack for the party, and figured, “Hey, no problem, we got a rez item in here, I’ll just use that and get her back on her feet, we’ll win this thing.” Jo paused for a breath, and to allow somebody to interject “What went wrong?” It was Alastrina’s turn, and Jo obliged her. “What went wrong was my aim. Pulled out the Reincarnation Feather just fine, but, well, those things are a lot heavier than you’d figure they should be. So I mighta overshot a little bit.” Jo paused to pull off his ballcap and idly flip it in his hands, as if testing a throw, until Flonk took his turn with the go-on. “Ever see what happens to some skeleton crow monster when you hit it with a power up that returns it from the dead? Well, undead, I guess. Meat and feathers just get put back on in reverse, and didn’t look real comfortable, neither. This thing’s just laying on the ground, growing light and dark meat all over itself, and looking up at us with this ‘why did you do this to meeee’ expression on its face. Guess that part was kinda funny, I mean, it was terrorizing a bunch of farmers, so, maybe a little deserved.”

Alastrina blanched. “What about the woman with the bow?”

“Oh, uh, that was the only feather they had. They’re kinda costly, and the Hero was kinda saving up for a new armor upgrade, so we didn’t buy anymore before the fight.”

Flonk groaned and shook his head. “Ok, seriously, this guy sounds like a moron. Uh, not you, Jo, Jerko McSword. Truly a genius tactician.”

“Did the robot not resurrect her? It claimed it could do that; that’s.. What I was told.. When..” The healer trailed off and looked down at the table.

“Well, the fight kinda ended then,” Jo explained, not fully catching Alastrina’s meaning. “The boss kinda stopped.. Being what the fight started as, and we just sorta stood there until the lights came back up. Honestly, I don’t even know what happened to the bird, I guess it flew off when all the yelling started. Well, not so much as yelling, mostly a lot of cold shoulder ellipses. Any rate, we didn’t get any more turns, so that was kinda that for her..”

Flonk’s mandible hung for a few seconds before he clacked it shut and shook his head. “You broke pretty much all of the things. Seriously. You broke a major boss fight, there wasn’t any loot or experience I’ll bet, and no dramatic out-of-combat death cutscene. Just.. Tada, move on now! That.. Has gotta be one of the best “Shoeless Jo” moments I have ever heard of. Sign this again for me, wouldja?” He thrust his autographed card back at Jo, who took the comment as a small token of praise.

Alastrina sipped at her glass of wine, and swirled it briefly before looking back up at her companions. “Jo, this isn’t easy for me to ask, but.. We found you by yourself.. And the Hero isn’t here..”

Jo’s expression darkened, the trace of sheepish smile from Flonk’s shoulder punching left him then. “Cut from the team. Benched for the season. Contract torn up. Wouldn’t be the first time for me, but I was promised steady work when I hired on. I talked to my agent, but he told me that since I went free talent outta the league, their lawyers weren’t gonna help. Still got charged 10% for the question, though. Oh, and I’m out for the season because I technically ‘retired’ to sign on with him. So, I’m working the minors here until somebody calls me out of retirement.. Not liking my odds of that these days.” The pitcher went into a full blown sulk, propping his chin in his rough hands and planting elbows on the table, and the conversation lulled awkwardly.

Flonk slid off his barstool. “Hey, uh, looks like the happy hour appetizer bar’s gonna close soon; imma go clean them out. You all want anything?” Neither human replied positively, and continued to sit looking obviously dejected, while not really noticing why the other one was looking the same. The flammogat hissed a little frustration out of his spiracles and shrugged on his way to pick the leavings.

Alastrina cleared her throat, took a small sip of her wine, and took a calming breath. “Mr. Jackson.. Jo.. to be honest, you are far more talented than I am, and have more right than I to be even doing this.. But Flonk, Pox and I are on a quest to find out what happened to The Hero. He and his group went ahead of me.. and yourself too, I know,” she added as Jo piffled. “I know I need to find out what happened.”

Jo straightened up, and shot Alastrina a disgusted look. “Oh, I know what happened. You and me both got dumped like so much garbage. Don’t see how running after the guy is gonna change that story. Why you wasting your time on that fool?”
The healer fought her natural instinct to look down. “Because no matter how badly I was treated, I signed on to do something greater than myself. I’m not much, I know, but if my talents can help in any small way, I should offer them. And.. and..” her voice lowered, and Jo couldn’t help but lean forward. “I don’t think The Hero made it.”

“You think he’s..”

“As a door nail,” Flonk finished, hobbling back to the table with an entire chafing dish. “Or got distracted by a shiny object and forgot about my ex boss. Either way, there’s my kind everywhere, and nobody seems to have the damnedest clue what either side is supposed to be doing next.”
The pitcher shook his head. “So lemme get this straight. You and me, two nice enough folk that our mutual pal didn’t think was up to the task of saving the world, a smart bug, and somebody else invisible, are somehow supposed to be the heroes now? Because there’s a sudden job opening at the top of the list?”

“Pox isn’t invisible, she’s just.. well, you’ll understand if you meet her.”

“Smart bug? Why, you.. ehhh, I’ve been called worse. Still, watch it, human.”

“What makes you think any of us can do it if the main man couldn’t?”

Flonk sneered. “Because we’re not idiots. Jeez, you two have been here tiptoeing on eggshells over being ditched for the last ten minutes. Jo, you tell us this lovely story about how crappy he looked after his allies. Alastrina, you were in those mines! Who else do you think set up those fish frenzied yokels? This guy sounds like he’s a time bomb, and honestly, you all are lucky to not be there when it goes off.”

Jo’s jaw clenched, and he stood up to make ready to leave. Alastrina stood quickly, and, with a pleading look, asked Jo if signing autographs was what he wanted to do. “I know how it hurts, Jo. I do,” she touched her throat. “But both of us agreed to do something greater than ourselves. That goal still needs us. Perhaps because nobody else is left to do it, perhaps not, but I think the only way we’ll fully heal is to try to accomplish it.”

That seemed to work. The pitcher nodded, “Yeah, alright. Nothing here’s keeping me, and I bet you could use a little fastball action on your side. Lemme get my stuff outta my locker, and I’ll meet you by the admission stand.”

Gary, the hood wight. Smiling for the picture, as far as you know.