Before I returned back to my little area, I went to the growing pile of salvage, sifting through, and started pulling out anything I could use, especially looking for anything like my [Louisville Slugger]. I found a few new items that were filthy but could be useful for leveling my skills. My haul included one such Item, though there was a reason for it being in the pile, [Flameborn Jacket]. I could make out a small insignia of a bird on its left breast pocket, but it was dirty as all get out, and the inner lining was in tatters.
...
[Flameborn Jacket]
Uncommon Apparel
Origin: A biker's favorite jacket, bathed in flames and covered in ash. It has absorbed the power of the flames that tried to destroy it.
Traits: [Fire’s Embrace] & [Memories of Fire]
…
[Fire’s Embrace]
Item Trait
Origin: As this jacket was bathed by flames, this jacket absorbs fire damage that would have affected the user.
Effect: Damage Transfer(Fire)
[Memories of Fire]
Item Trait
Origin: The fire that scorched this item still lingers granting the user projection from cold.
Effect: Resistance(Cold): +10%
...
The fact that it was an uncommon item was interesting and I wondered if it worked like classes did, but instead of skills items had traits. If repaired it could be useful in a pinch, and also it looked badass.
Otherwise, I had found a flip knife and what I originally after. Returning to my spot, I had completed my stuff to do today, and I had a little bit of daylight left, and I had a bat to try out. Placing the Jacket down along with my other finds I walked over to an area of the Yard not being used.
I took a mostly intact plank of wood, stuck one of the ends, and dug into the earth, hoping it would stick. I took one of the balls and balanced it onto the end sticking up. From there, I grabbed the baseball bat and readied my stance; I planted my feet firmly and pointed towards the ball, my right hand on top of my left. cocking back the bat I swung.... and missed.
I heard a faint chuckling from being me. Looking back, I saw it was Mr. Brown. He signaled me asking if it was okay to approach. Dropping my bat and letting it lay at my side, I addressed him.
"Hey, Mr.Brown" I greeted him, as he smiled and began to speak.
"Hey, Kien, you really helped us out by sharpening knives and definitely helped out everybody by doing laundry manually," he said. His eyes darted, not seeming to be surprised by my finding the [Flameborn Jacket].
"You're welcome sir, but I'm just doing my part we all got too," I said, smiling back at him.
"Well, kiddo, seeing as you are training with that fine old baseball bat, I figured I'd give you a few tips as thanks," he said, and while his voice remained steady, I could tell he was worried about something. Brushing it off I waved him forward and offered the bat to him.
"Show me how it's done, Mr. Brown," I said.
Taking the bat, Mr. Brown, smiling, settled into his stance, his eyes locked onto the ball like a predator. He shifted his weight forward, and like a whip, he struck the ball straight into the smoldering wreckage of what used to be a house. He stepped out of his stance, turned, and looked at me.
"Alright, Kiddo, what did ya notice?" He asked me.
"You shifted your weight from your back foot to your forward," I said. He seemed to wait for me to continue, but he frowned slightly when I didn't continue.
"Alright, that's good enough, but remember this, shift your weight from the back to forward, but there's more, a lot more. You want your feet shoulder-width apart, keep your grip firm but your arms loose, and as you draw it back, watch the ball, you got all that?" He said, and at the end, he held up a ball.
I nodded and he gave me the bat after placing the ball on the plank. I stood with a baseball bat in my hands, and like a guiding hand, I stood shoulder width apart and kept my grip firm but my arms loose. Keeping my weight on my back foot, I cocked back my arms and struck forwards and hit the ball, and while it was nowhere near the speed Mr. Brown hit it with, but I had hit it and Mr. Brown was clapping behind me.
"Alright, that's good, but now let's keep it just like that, but you need to put your whole back into it," he said, walking towards me.
---
Mr. Brown and I practiced until dinner, a pretty good fair situation considered, some grilled cheese and some other stuff that’ll spoil quickly and fast to make. Mr Welson came out and talked though we could all tell he was more comfortable in smaller groups or on his own. Mr. Johnson and Mr. Brown started talking about plans for tomorrow's scouting party. The most worrying part was that they had stopped finding survivors, not even corpses that would have been expected.
—
After dinner, I packed up my stuff and made my way back to my room. Closing the door I placed some of the supplies I had grabbed before retreating to my room. I laid down a bottle of diluted liquid hand soap and two clean towels. I began by wiping off some of the dirt and ash with a towel. Placing it on the side, I applied some of the soap and began to move in circular motions, cleaning off the more stuck-on grime. I went over the jacket three times, and when I looked at the cloth I was using, I saw it was black with ash and dirt.
Afterward, I made sure to dry the jacket thoroughly before hanging it up in the closet. Next, I began a routine of cleaning the baseball bat the same as before, though I had to grab a new towel from the bathroom. Finally, after I wrapped up my maintenance, I blew out the candle and fell asleep.
...
"Hey, Kien, how was your day?" My father asked as he took off his shoes smiling.
"Ah, I usual played some games with Jay and the boys, did some yard work at the Old Man’s, how about you?" I asked him as he shrugged off his ranger jacket.
My father was 5'10, just a little over three inches shorter than me, but built like a brick. Laugh lines carved deep into his face and a twinkle in his eye like he was about to tell you a dirty joke.
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"Ah, you know a few idiot tourists, some really polite kids had a black bear scare, but the tracks were a few days old," he said; my father was an interesting person in that the whole reason he wanted to become a Ranger in the first place was because of Yogi bear. The childhood dream, alongside the fact of there being a national park nearby, had made it easy for him to pursue his dream. Then, I turned to talk to someone else, but all I could see was a vaguely human shaped black blob. It was as if some took a knife to reality and cut it.
"§ ?~?\| <>xx, §?× x?§ Z#+& #+- ;!? _-+??" The garbled mess that came out of the dark spot shredded my ears; even as I began to recognize this as a dream, the physical pain resounded in my skull.
There was this pressure from inside my skull as if my brain was rebelling against something, slamming itself repeatedly into my skull. I just wanted it to stop, just stop it! My fist beat against my head. I just wanted it to stop.
"STOP IT STOP SPEAKING, WHO ARE YOU??" I yelled my voice hoarse, as my Dad continued to converse with the entity then it stopped. Clutching my ears, I looked up, and the blot in the canvas of my home was looking at me. I could tell that it was focusing on me. Then the pain stopped as I heard a voice and the dreams melted away and yet I felt like whatever dark blot was staring at me, that it knew I was dreaming it.
"Wake up, Kiddo, wake up," was Old Man Welton's voice speaking to me. His voice was worried.
"Wake up Kiddo, Wake Up" his voice pleaded as I sat up, and suddenly I was aware that the sides of my face had a viscous liquid. Locking eyes with Old Man Welton I saw a look of deep worry.
"You were screaming in your sleep, kiddo, and your ears, your ears began to bleed," he said, looking to see if I had an answer as he took cotton balls and began to dab at the blood on the sides of my face around my ears.
"I had a dream about my Dad, and this blot of darkness was there, and it started to speak." I said trying to verbally process what was happening.
"I really don't know how a dream about your dad could cause your ears to start bleeding.” He didn't mention the obviously more important part of the dream. The dark blob thingy which I was certain was talking to Dad. I tried three times to communicate the dream to him, one time verbally.
"There was a Dark Blob in my Dream" and yet the Old Man didn't respond at all as he continued to check my ears.
On my second attempt, I used Morse code
- .... . .. .-. / .-- .- ... / .- / -.. .- .-. -.- / -... .-.. --- -... / .. -. / -- -.-- / -.. .-. . .- -- / - .... .- - / -.-. .- ..- ... . -.. / - .... .. ... (There was a Dark blob in my dream. It caused this) I knew that the Old Man knew Morse code, and yet he didn't respond. I tried to write it down, but for some reason, when he looked at the paper I wrote on, the ink disappeared as soon as I wrote it. Then a system prompt appeared expect it was in blood red.
...
[Alert]
You are trying to convey restricted information. Any further attempts will have consequences.
...
The system window surprised me, Welton looked at me with his eyes growing serious.
"Whatever you are trying to communicate someone or something really doesn't want that to happen so please stop alright Kiddo I want to help you but whatever is stopping it is more powerful than anything we've ever seen," he said, I realized whatever stopped me had the backing of the strange system and it was potentially insanely powerful. Realizing he had reached me he began to speak again.
"Hey uh, me and the other adults are having a meeting up on the third floor, and I insisted that you come; you're almost an adult, and your class has really helped out, so come on, let's finish cleaning you up, and let's go," he said, smiling at him. I thanked him. A minute later and I finished cleaning myself of the rest of the blood and began to make my way upstairs.
Sitting in a half circle around a roaring fireplace were ‘representatives of the family units of the survivors minus Mrs. Gonzalez, Mrs. Johnson, Mrs.Brown, and half the scouting team.
"Where are the others?" I asked the group, and by the lack of sadness, I knew nothing really bad happened while I was sleeping, though clearly, something important happened. Mr. Johnson responded.
"Mrs. Gonzalez is caring for the others downstairs and my wife and Mrs. Brown are making sure the kids aren't getting into mischief," he said, it made sense up here you couldn't hear if someone needed help down on the bottom floor and I had a distinct feeling this was something the kids weren't supposed to hear.
"And the rest of the scouting team?" I asked him and Mr. Johnson responded.
"They are on watch," he said simply, and the Old Man and I took the two free seats. The Old Man began to speak his voice, carrying a voice of authority back from his days as a sergeant in Vietnam.
"I have looked through my collection of antiques and found a cupboard that can keep things colder and my class trait called [Collector’s Obsession] that allows me to empower that effect so we can keep some perishables from going bad" and in around a circle the group went clockwise talking about the new roles they had fallen into.
It was some pretty normal stuff for how much the world changed. Mrs. Smith talked about food stores and also reported the health of the patients on behalf of Mrs. Gonzalez. Mrs. Jones talked about other supplies they needed and stuff that they needed to prioritize, like hygiene products. It completely shifted when Mr. Johnson started to speak.
"I am afraid we have bad news; we have found out why we’ve stopped finding survivors" he stated. The whole room went quiet except for the crackling of the fire.
"Something is dragging them off, yesterday it was a suspicion we had found claw marks and blood but later in the afternoon Mr. Jones saw something and it was later confirmed by Mrs. Gonzalez that he showed no signs of hysteria or anything else as far as we can tell, Mr Jones can please tell us what you saw?" Mr. Johnson asked as all eyes brimmed with grim curiosity.
"It was a group of small hideous creatures, they were skinny and yet had large bloated bellies, and from what I could see they stood at about 5 feet tall they looked vaguely Human but were like a mad scientist's attempt at replicating us, and they had this sickly greenish-yellow skin, but their appearance was not the scariest part it was their speed and agility they moved and ran like nothing I had ever seen" he stated clearly what he had seen had shaken him. Mr Johnson, seeing his distress, picked up where he left off.
"They were also seen dragging Mrs. Wigram the school librarian, he also managed to [Analyze] them as [Goblin Warriors] and they had levels ranging from 3-4 and traveled in groups of 5, their levels might explain the show of power that Mr. Jones saw, and confirmed that there is the magic of some sort at foot," he said seriously as the adults let that sink in. If this was true then the chances of fighting them off as we were right now was nil zero. Old Man Welton took charge and began to speak in a grave tone.
"From now on half the scouting party will stay here to protect the wounded and to give warning, the Goblins are organized and clearing out by sections heading towards us, tomorrow we will begin to fortify the Manor and clear an escape route in the opposite direction of the Goblins locations" the adults nodded along as many had come to similar conclusions, the Manor was a valuable resource and probably one of few intact buildings in the city and maybe the whole county barring the Amish or homesteaders.
They began to draft a plan, Mr Smith was still injured but he could move around he was a construction foreman and had gained a class called, well it was called [Foreman] which was an Uncommon class that allowed him to temporarily give someone his building skill, and Mr. Gonzalez was a [Carpenter] and would build the fortification out of the more intact wood pieces of the houses nearby. My role was to make sure the tools, and equipment were maintained and to help with the labor when I wasn't doing anything else.
In the end, when we had hammered out the plans, we ended up getting a surprise from the system.
…
[Alert]
A [Quest] has been created.
Members of your community have discovered an enemy faction of invaders. There are only two options: domination or subjugation, there is no other path.
Tasks have been assigned based on your [Class] and perceived position amongst your peers.
[Quest: Fortify The Manor]
Description: Your job is to maintain the tools and equipment needed as well as to provide manual labor. Your contribution level can upgrade the reward(s) available to you.
Base Reward(s): +1 Skill Level in [Arm’s Maintenance]
...
"Did y’all just receive a Quest?" the Old Man asked. We all said yes and we were all collectively mystified. There just was no way the similarities between the system and rpg games was just a coincidence the question was, was the system based off video games or were video games based on the system?
"Well, we got marching orders, and it's late; the scouting party members will take turns watching as their scouting skill allows them to see better and all," Mr. Johnson said, and we began to disperse.
"Hey, thank you, Old Man, for including me," he gave a fond smile.
"It's okay, kiddo. You're almost an adult and you have proven to be useful in these chaotic times. Not a single person protested against you being here, but continue to work hard tomorrow and good night" he said before making his way to his room.
"Good night" I responded before doing the same. Soon, I was lying on my bed, about to fall asleep, hoping that I wouldn't have that same dream...
