Private - Those Basement-Dwelling Blues

Honeyhome? Was that what the village was called?

It didn't matter. She'd forget by the end of the night anyway.

Madison sat in the middle of what was clearly, unmistakably a tavern. Everyone knows what one looks like, what with the haphazardly-arranged tables laid out to make sure that one drunk patron didn't have a straight path to whatever other patron was giving him the stink eye. Finely-painted but mass-produced landscapes of various regional features mixed with advertisements for local brands of mead and ale were plastered across the four walls. Somehow, the lanterns hung from the ceiling both provided ample illumination and always seemed to be just out of reach of anyone gone enough who'd want to try their best Tarzan impersonation.

And this drink... What amazingness was in this drink?!

The witch took another swig. The thick, sweet flavor of honey danced across her tongue, sending a shudder of warmth down her spine. She'd never had the stuff in real life--she preferred whatever case of domestic pisswater happened to be on sale that week, but holy shit if this is what it was actually like and not just the game lying to her, those habits would have to change with the quickness.

And... were those juniper berries she tasted? She'd never actually had them before, for obvious reasons--you can't just shove a handful into your mouth and be okay, like you can with blackberries or blueberries or those cute little wild strawberries that would crop up in her back yard by the edge of the treeline when she was younger--

Bless the developers for their little Easter eggs.

Madison was clearly past the point of no return. She'd spent a fair bit of the GP she earned from her last quest sampling the wall at the tavern, wondering what kind of buffs and penalties she'd suffer from imbibing. Before she knew it, she was back down to single digits, buzzed out of her gourd, and ass planted in the corner of the establishment, giggling to herself as she tried to work out was was going on.

"I cannot possibly be drunk right now."

Oh, but you are.

"Nope," she snorted in a very unladylike manner. "Is--is just a game. Just a bunch of zeroes and ones telling me that... telling my brain that I'm drunk. You are not drunk, brain."

You can feel everything else in this world. Hell, you remember the taste of that old man's beef stew. It lingered on your tongue after you logged out that night.

Her head tilted to the side, her eyes fixed on something far away, a shadow in the back of her mind. "Isssss that a eu...euphemism?"

You're not drunk. You feel good, you feel warm, you feel numb. Just like every Friday and Saturday night. And some Tuesdays. Most Wednesdays. And payday. But that's real, Maddy. This is fake.

She wasn't entirely sure, though.

@John Cromwell

 

John upturned the mug of whatever the barkeep had put in front of him earlier, breathing in and nearly coughing on the slight alcoholic vapor. It may not have been real, but it didn’t matter to Joseph Bleeker’s mind any more. The amber light around the tavern made the atmosphere comfortable, merry even, and the only way to make it better was music he could dance a little big to.

“Aaaanother!” He shouted.

He looked at his available funds, knowing that it was diminishing but unable to focus on the numbers correctly. Bah! He didn’t care anyways, that damned number was like a countdown to sadness. But for now, there was more beer!

At least he thought it was beer. He arched an eyebrow inquisitively at the mug that slid across the counter as if by magic. He lifted the stein easily, and laughed in triumph. His hands were STILL steady! Every movement was his very own, which right now meant pressing his thumb on the tiny lever that lifted the lid, and repeating the motion from earlier by tipping the cup back.

It tasted like beer, and good stuff too. Mild fruity notes overcame the bitterness of the stout on his slightly numbed tongue. At times he still couldn’t believe that these were his own hands. Well, they weren’t his hands proper, but still.

Wait, they weren't his hands because they were BETTER! He continued to drink, raising his other fist. He clenched his off hand and finished the drink. He pounded fist and tankard on the bartop, holding out the now-empty cup.

“Can’t do that, son,” the barkeep said, reaching for the giant mug.

“Son? I’m old enough to be your fassher, BOY!” John said, his temper rose more quickly while he was drinking.

The NPC bartender scoffed. “Whatever, friend, but as long as you don’t have the coin, I’m not giving you anything else. In fact, you’re in the hole for the last three you drank. Settle up now, I should have cut you off then.”

John tried twice before he was able to call up the game’s menu.

“Thhhere,” he slurred, pressing one of the buttons he almost recognized. With luck, he’d just paid for his drinks, and he would be able to continue his bar crawl unhindered.

“No can do, friend.”

John leered. Sometimes it was difficult to tell who was an NPC and who wasn’t, but the tell for this barkeep was his overuse of the word friend, added to his apparent belief that everyone was indeed a friend.

“You’re still under. Can’t let you leave until you pay your tab.”

“Oh? And how are we gonna figure thhhat out, friend? You gonna have me wasssh all your dissshes?”

The barkeep laughed aloud, whipping a rag over one shoulder. “O’course not, friend! I’ve got a much more important job for you.”

Bleeker’s drunk mind capitulated easily. As long as it wasn’t dishes, he was fine. He hated washing up.

 

“Another one” Vince grunted between clenched teeth as he desperately fought the urge to vomit. Not that he could, maybe? The laws of reality and drinking were weird and tenuous at best when in an online/full dive setting. Terrasphere oddly enough wasn’t his first time drinking hard online, all sorts of Dive Bars had popped up to sell the experience of getting drunk without the actual hangover ever since the technology to get you drunk online had become a thing. It was a great way to circumvent liquor laws, a great way to avoid drunk driving, and an awesome way to blow off steam after a shitty day of work.


A really great way to blow off steam. Vince thought to himself as the bartender made short work of pouring whatever it was he’d been drinking. Especially when I have work tomorrow, no hangover for me! The thought was equally pleasant and nasty, as images of both his parents in suits danced across his vision. HE could hear their useless complaints now. “Why couldn’t you just be a lawyer like us? Why’d you pick something useless like a technical degree? Why won’t the printer print? Where are my documents Vinnie, they were on the computer last night!”

He grit his teeth and forced their stupid complaints from his head and greedily took the cup offered to him and gulped it down. Did that even hit my tongue? He found himself asking. I’m not sure I even give a fuck. His face felt warm, his vision blurred ever so slightly, his inhibitions gone. He felt like he needed to sing, but a teeeny tiny voice in the back of his head kept telling him that was a bad idea. I’m an alcoholic. He mused as he set the glass down. Or maybe Im an...Ecoholic...I like that term. Less liver failure in that term. He nodded to himself and looked up to the bartender who was giving him an expectant look. Oh right, money. He reached down to his pocket for his wallet, Oh fuck.

He wasn’t 100% sure, but he was willing to bet all the money he didn’t have that this man didn’t accept payment in the form of a microtransaction. Or bitcoin for that matter.

 

"And you," the cry thundered across the tavern, hitting Maddy's skull like a jackhammer.

Oh boy, someone else is in trouble too~~

"Ma'am--"

Nope, definitely not me.

"Ma'am--"

Absotively, posilutely not talking to me.

"--you there, with the black hair and odd clothes--"

One-hunnit percent is not me. I'm not the only anime weeb trash eeeeviiiilllll bitch in here.

"--with the empty glass in hand--"

...okay, maybe seventy-five percent not me...

"--oh for crying out loud--"

...which I am definitely not doing, I prefer my sobbing to be done quietly, with my face buried in my pillow...

A loud bang!! snapped Madison out of her reverie as the tavern man's fat, meaty, hairy fists came crashing down on the table inches from her. The woman snapped straight in her seat, her eyes suddenly focusing on the bastard who clearly thought her night was over.

"Time's up, missy. Tab's due, and you ran out of coins hours ago."

"I-I-can pay you on Tuesday for another drink right nnnnow," she slurred as her vision started to blur once more.

The guy gave a stern shake of his head. "Oh no you don't. Haven't fallen for that in twenty-six years, and I don't plan on startin' tonight."

Before Maddy could react, he snatched her up by her ear. "Come on, with the big guy over there, let's go."

 

"I don't suppose you take Mastercard?" Vince asked sheepishly. The bartender glared him down, not even laughing at his masterful attempt at comedy. Come on you fucker, that one's a goddamn classic. Right up with, whoops, left my wallet in my other pair of adventuring pants. He debated making a run for it, or even logging off, but he got the feeling that he would simply have to pay up eventually, or run the risk of having some form of law enforcement sent after him. He could only imagine the trouble that's cause, so he decided to opt for the best policy.

"It appears I got a little carried away in my drinking sir. If you'd like to wait for about twenty minutes I think I could manage to return a cup or two to you." Stonefaced, the man sneered. Tough crowd. I need better material. "I'm really sorry, but maybe I could propose a trade? I happen to be an excellent not a lawyer? Real good at writing contracts, negotiation deals..." the mans stare cut Vince off. "I can do dishes faster than sin. Back home they call me five fingered Vinny, not because of any skill or nothin, but because half my friends blew their fingers off with fireworks." Hot damn, this fucker is stonefaced jackson.

"Get over there with the other two!" The man hooked a thumb over to the most unlikely duo he'd probably ever seen. "I've got a job lined up for you."

Please be killing rats. Vince whined internally. I'm waaaay to drunk to do anything harder...

 

Three broke jokes.

That's what they were, to be sure.

"I hope we're not being put on fish... dish duty," Madison grumbled, Whatever was in her glass(es) (as in almost a dozen), it was starting to pick a fight with her insides. Everything was nice and cozy at first, but one must have said something about the other's mother, and now they were getting ready to fight.

Madison fought every urge to throw up and pass out. She leaned against the arm of the tall motherfucker she had been told to stand next to. Her right hand flailed about in the air, trying to find his shoulder, hoping to give her a bit more stability. Bastard was too tall, so instead it just sort of awkwardly slid down his shoulder blade and opted to snake around his bicep instead.

She'd never have done that if she weren't blasted off her ass, but when needs must...

"No," the barkeep glared at her. "Considering the state you're in, you'd just throw up in the sink and then pass out. Probably drown, while you're at it."

You are probably not wrong, the young witch noted. That'd be one hell of a way to earn her first Death Affliction, right?

The barkeep surveyed the sad trio, casting sharp, judgmental glances every which way. "Instead, I have something better in mind. You lot are all going to pay off your tabs by taking care of a little rodent problem we've been having."

He motioned with a dishrag towards the door behind them. "Downstairs, in my storeroom, I've been having rat troubles. The mangy little turd-droppers keep finding a way in. Nibbling my food, breaking open casks, knocking over bottles. I want you three to go down there and kill them all"

The guy pushed past them, reaching for the handle and giving it a quick twist. The wooden door creaked on its rusty iron hinges, a nasty little shriek that echoed off the inside of Madison's skull and rattled her jaw. She gazed upon the inky, black abyss of the stairwell. From the darkness, she swore she heard the chittering of dozens, if not hundreds of nasty little critters.

"Alright, down you go."

"And..." Madison tried to force out one more question, while she still had command of her tongue. "And what if we... we can't?"

The barkeep smirked. "Then you're down there long enough to sober up, I guess."

 

"Aaaalright, I guess," John mumbled, trying to push himself toward the now-open door. John Cromwell, and his commander Joseph had a firm belief in paying debts. He arrived at the door, wincing as the hinges screamed. The two people there with him were...

acquaintances?

No, comrades!

"HA!" John choked out, fighting down a lump of bile as he stumbled forward. There were two besides himself standing there. Well, perhaps standing was a little generous. They seemed just as drunk as he was, and maybe just as shallow-pocketed. "What do we haff here?" The girl was wavering as she protested. Her costume seemed a bit on the macabre side, but her thin frame made it work, especially considering how many other people he'd seen around here who could not make their costumes work. He planted a massive hand on her shoulder, his palm almost spanning her shoulderblades. He spoke, knowing that talking of any sort while drunk was bad.

"Nice cosshtume. Too many people around here look like the only sssshurvivor of an explosion at a belt factory!"

John wheezed a laugh and patted her on the back. Their third seemed younger than the girl, but not by much. Children, the lot of them.

You're twenty-five in this game, remember?

He cast the thought aside.

"If we're gonna get outta the ketchup, then let'ssh go," John said, grinning, and made sure to grip the railing. Slips, trips, and falls; so they said.

 

Oh look, we conveniently snagged the caster, fighter, and rouge in one party. Next is the part where we form a guild and make a lifelong bond that makes us all the better in the end... Vince drunkenly mused. The giant seemed like a jolly man, with dinner-plates for hands, no, serving trays for hands. They guy looked like something out of a web-comic about manly dudes doing manly things, or maybe one of those super stylized manga about manly dudes striking manly poses.

He's a stand user, and his stand is [Tall as fuq] Vince found himself thinking.

The girl however, was a hard read. Maybe because he was drunker than a skunk and her name wasn't Ray. He was only good with one woman, and that was his best friend. Her dark nature made him think that she was one of those edgy people who liked Bullet for My Valentine, or Senses fail. Or she's a super preppy cheerleader venting through a phase where noone can see... Vince mused. The giant started down the stairs, and Vince followed suit, letting the caster stick to the back. Even when drunk Vince knew the proper line up of a party.

"I happen to be a master tier rat slayer," Vince spoke slowly, trying his best not to slur his words. "Spent like twenty hours out in the forest kicking the little fuckers in the dick grinding mastery." When they hit the bottom he found himself in the most comically stereotypical basement for a tavern he'd ever seen. All the shelves and the like had been arranged in some sort of labyrinthine pattern, or maybe it was simple and Vince was just too drunk to comprehend, he couldn't tell. The whole thing was dimly lit by a few lamps that seemed to be mounted on the walls, meaning it was incredibly hard to see. Squinting Vince peered around.

"Alright, lets just stick together and try not to break anything."

 

For a moment, everything was blurry, then dark, then a mix of both.

Madison slapped herself a couple times in the forehead to try and get her senses in working order. Mission failed.

"Okay," she mumbled as she drew her deck of cards out of her inventory. "Right. So... uh... Before we go any further, I'm gonna need names. Makes it easier to strate--uh, strat--hmm. Plan." Madison burped. "Yeah, we'll go with that word. I can say that word."

She pointed a finger at John. "So, you're Tallboi." She dragged it through the air towards Vince. "And you..."

...What could she call him? Even by the dim lights that decorated the tavern basement, she could see that he looked like a stock standard anime character. Spiky hair, thin but muscular build, husbando-cute looks.

"We'll call you Fuckboi," she hoarsely whispered, her dead eyes staring a hole through him.

Before either of them could protest their new legal names, Madison turned back towards the shadows and labyrinthine arrangement of kegs and bottles and shelving. She noted it was like Dark Alliance down here; any minute now, she was expecting the skittering of Giant Effing Rats that would lead to violence, leveling up, and a hole in the wall that led to the vast network of sewers and Even Bigger Threats under Honeyhive Or Whatever.

Didn't take long for her dreams to become reality, either. The first skittering of paws on stone hit the breeze, as did a pair of cards ripped from the top of her deck. Before she could even pick where her target was, violet bolts of pure hatred ricocheted around the basement, knocking shit over and breaking things and generally making a mess that would only add to how much she owed the bartender.

But, hey, eventually the spell hit its mark! The otherwise awkward and reserved witch performed a little celebratory booty dance before realizing that the death screeching of one rat attracted the attention of several more.

 

Slips trips and falls, slips trips and falls, The mantra of construction workers reigned in John's mind as he hunched his shoulders in the cramped storage basement. The whole thing smelled like whiskey. Whiskey? No, that had to be the whiskey talking.

...Whiskey?

Several cards flashed by his hip, he noticed after the fact. One sprouted from a large, shaggy rat, the others laying beyond or around the now-dead rodent, the source of whatever crashing he'd just heard a moment ago. One purple card sprouted from a barrel, and others lay scattered about the stone floor, along with broken glasses and at least one intact shot glass. Wait, they went right by him, yes?

"Oi Oi Oi," John rumbled, turning to the girl who wanted to be a boy. "You can't go round tossing cards everwherrrr," he finished, spying a rat as he turned.

"Ha!" John exclaimed, spying a few more coming through from the other aisles shrouded in darkness beyond. Fresh meat was in short supply here, apparently, and all of the rats wanted a piece of the action, exterminators or no. "I'll show you!" He wasn't sure if he was talking to the rat or the girl as he raised his foot behind him, turning back towards the front of the group.

He tried to swing a massive boot at the thing. His leg came round as he turned, and he connected with the large rat, sending it careening toward the barrel, somehow impaling it on the card the girl had thrown into the wood. John did not notice this, however, because he was going backwards.

The room spun downwards, and he knew he was falling backwards from the force of his kick, but he had no time to see behind him, or even put out a hand. He really hoped he didn't vomit after he fell over.

Oh yes sir, he was having his flag out tonight, and there wasn't anything to do for it but try to make the best. The best of a good situation, but still the best.

 

Oh JFC

The first rat showed his face and it was on, not like a switch had been flipped, or if the situation had been set on a table. No, it was on like Donkey Kong. The little witch began flinging cards like fucking gambit, smoking anything in her way, barrels, pots, and possibly the occasional rat. Meanwhile the freaking giant had decided that in his entire arsenal of moves, a kick was his best option. And boy howdy was that a kick, the rat careened through the air and got a good ass taste of that one movie where the dude got staked on something, maybe it was a terminator movie? Vince was too drunk to remember. But the impressiveness of it was shortly fading away, because London Bridge was about to fall.

"Yo bruh, be careful" Vince dashed forward and attempted to catch the man, and holy shit was he heavy. It took the best of his strength to push the man back and get him back on his feet. Once the giant was no longer threatening to topple over, Vince decided it was his turn to kill some rats. But how?

He didn't have fancy cards or big ass muscles like his friends, he just had a really weird arrangement of powers. So he he quickly equipped his sword, and then in his other hand he conjured a fake sword with his illusion power, or at least tried. It looked less like a sword, and more like some discount glowy lightsaber. The type of thing bollywood would use instead, like a Light glaive or something. A rat nipped at his heel, and it earned a quick kick in the teeth and and a sword in the stomach. The whole world lurched around Vince as he tried to steady his vision, several more rats seemed to be coming at him, or at least it could have been several more rats, his vision was swimming. Acting out of instinct he slashed with both blades, his sword doing some real damage, and his shiny light blade only making the rats think they were about to get killed.

"How many fucking rats did this dude say there were?"

 

"I have no fucking idea," Madison excitedly screamed at Vincent. "But we kill them all and take their stuff!"

She had that look in her sapphire eyes. That crazy look that said you should probably stay out of my direct path, lest you get ran the hell over.

Madison was out for blood. She wanted to crush her enemies, see them driven before her, and hear the lamenting squeaks of their broodmates. Their losses would be total. None would survive the night, except for the three brave warriors who towered over them like gods.

Squinting, trying to clear the fog in front of her face, the cursemage noticed a gap in the wall at the far corner of the cellar. "They're coming through there," she exclaimed as she jabbed a finger in the general direction of the hole. "Let's go! Bring the fight to them, unless we want to be trapped here all night and get swarmed!"

Madison bounded over the carcasses that littered the floor of the basement, tripping multiple times over splintered wood and overturned barrels as she made her way to the future site of an endless slaughter.

 

Take their stuff? What stuff?

John stepped forward, toppling a metal stein as he steadied himself on the shelves to his right. Rats didn't have stuff, did they? Maybe they had stuff when you were an old man in a young man in a videogame getting drunk. Onward!

"For stuff..." John murmured as he planted one foot in front of the other, attempting a battle cry. He stepped up behind Madison, not being nearly as careful, but somehow not making nearly as much fuss. Maybe she was drunker than him. More drunk? In response to the mental inquiry, the world careened, threatening to topple him once more until he grabbed a piece of a shelf, which held on, but not without a creak of protest.

The moment passed, and he righted himself once more, regaining the little balance he could have in a drunken and still-not-quite-familiar body. a muffled squeak sounded under his foot, and he figured that there was one less rat they had to end.

"Look," John said, pointing forward, his arm was nearly long enough to reach over and past the belt buckled girl and into the gap. "a hole."

 

Madison stood there flabbergasted as the burly guy shoved past her to crawl into the hole in the wall.

"No fucking shit, Tallboi," she glared at him, her simmering anger overriding her inebriated state and making her speech coherent once more. "Did you not hear the words coming out of my mouth?"

The cursemage pushed her way through the basement and climbed through the opening. "I said we go through here and kill the rest of them!"

She mumbled and grumbled as her feet found purchase on wet stone. A quick sniff of the air suggested that they had now entered the sewers under Honeyhome. Her stomach turning and attempting to evacuate its contents only confirmed it.

Off course the rats would be coming from the sewers. Where the hell else would they have been living? Madison just didn't expect for the tunnels running thick with waste to be this... huge.

It was almost like they were making their way through an underground manor, or a subway station. The arched ceilings were a clear nine or ten feet in the air, and there were narrow elevated walkways along the walls that allowed workers, explorers, and wildlife to move freely without swimming in brown and yellow.

Off in the distance, Maddy could make out the skittering of more rats coming to investigate what was going on in the tavern's cellar. What was with all the high-pitched shrieking? Where had their friends gone? What was going on back there?

The cursemage caught the red glinting of the eyes of several dirty little beasts quickly approaching. Clicking her tongue, she quickly ripped the top card off her deck and flashed it in the air before them. A river of blood burst from the left eye of one of the rats, scattering the others.

Madison looked over her shoulder back at the opening into the tavern's basement. "Oi, Fuckboi! Where you at, dawg?"

 

And I thought I was drunk...

It had taken Vincent a moment to process the going ons. He'd barely managed to spare the giant from a nasty spill when the woman had gone off down a hole and the giant had followed suit. He'd meant to be a the drunken voice of reason, to avoid racking up any more debt via damages. Instead he found himself a victim of tying up two randy mares to a wagon and being taken for a spin.

"Yo, hold the fuck up." Vince called out as he followed after them. "I am too fucking drunk to go spelunking." He peered down the hole, and sighed. Those two were going to get hurt if he didn't follow after them. Or maybe they'd all get hurt if he went. Maybe I'm not drunk enough to go spelunking? The nagging thought itched at the back of his head. No, fuck you drunk Vinny, we're not getting drunker. He chided himself as he stepped through and worked his way up to the crew he'd accidentally partied up with.

"So hows this work? We find mama rat and papa rat and hand them a formal eviction notice?"