Patricia Wilson
Stories
10
Chapters
3,347
Words
163.4 K
Comments
0
Reading
13 h, 37 m
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Nilfu was, according to his now badly abused road atlas, a long way from the middle of nowhere, which is where he currently was. Or about a three hour run. Truth did some completely unnecessary stretching, and set off. Wasn’t going to get any closer if he stood around, and there sure wasn’t much in the way of passing traffic. The countryside continued its gray boringness. The occasional burst of green trees served to effectively underline the inescapable truth- you were stuck on an underused highway,…-
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Coming Monday, March 25- Weeaboo's Unfortunate Isekai: The Necromancer's Gacha If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. Basebuilding, summons, monsters, and a complete absence of harem for this guy who can't handle 3-D, all brought to you by the guy who made theo-punk a thing with Slumrat…
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The devastation was enormous. The picture kept cutting back and forth from the heaving seas of demonic insects and troop carriers rushing to the border. Mages setting up warded enchantment sites. Curse delivery systems, golem launchers, necromancers with their articulated wagons of weaponized dead. All rumbling for Jeon. Truth did. There were plenty of board books and what looked like books to teach kids to read. It was a good place to start. Lots of pictures. Truth moved like a blur through the room,…
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Truth visualized Thrush’s summoning token. It was a little metal disk he had etched, quite deeply, with the imp’s binding. An utterly standard thing, notwithstanding the small refinements he had added from his time in Siphios. Thrush was an air imp. There was only so fancy a binding you could apply before things got silly. The token was battered, scratched, worn down and generally looked like it had been through Hell. Truth had been wearing it around his neck or keeping it in a pocket… during those…
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Truth counted amongst his bad habits an unreasonable insistence on trying to do everything himself. It was foolish, and worse, self destructive. He would kill himself trying to take down the research installation solo. It was therefore time to bring in some support. Those who were reliable, and those who were reliability unreliable. And he was lonely. He had missed Thrush. Not a good emotion to associate with something as sadistic and treacherous as an air imp, but he had. He would call in Maid and Butler…
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It took a bit of arranging. Truth tied a half dozen chunks of meat to a log, then roped it to a particularly thick tree. Then quadruple lashed the tree to a protruding rock. He then launched small hunks of meat (he was running very low at this point and had to make do) tied to fist sized rocks, using the same banking shot he had relied on before. The hope was that the meat would lure the blob to the bigger log, which would then resist harvesting for a moment. This would, theoretically, hopefully, give…
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Truth clamped his will down on his legs, locking himself in place. He had started to bolt before his mind had even processed what he was seeing. The monster was an ambush hunter. Running would only reveal where he was. He had to be patient. He had to think. Despite every fiber of his being screaming at him to get away. He had to think. It was utterly alien. That was the only word for it. Alien. Nothing about it could exist naturally in this world. It followed no biological logic, nor magical sense. Or if…
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Truth felt a creeping shortness of breath. He was in the middle of a forest, on the side of a mountain, and he felt claustrophobic. Trapped on his little island of rock in a sea of horrors. Watching the little creeping worm things wriggle along the side of the rock. Some starting to creep up the rock, before sliding down again. He focused hard on not breathing. He could hold his breath for ten minutes, easily. Longer, even. Tens of minutes, maybe. So he didn’t have to breathe now. He controlled every…
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Truth slipped back across the river well after dawn. If he was a paranoid sort, and he was, he would triple surveillance of the border crossing in the hours just before dawn, when things were at their darkest and minds at their least attentive. Truth slept a full night, had a solid breakfast of rice and veggies, “enjoyed” a savagely mediocre cup of coffee, and spent an hour just watching the border. Nothing alarming. The soldiers looked calmer. Not “too calm,” just a bit more settled after the…
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Truth glared at the forest draping itself around the Great White Mountain. It looked fine. He didn’t trust a single splinter of it. The memories of Happori Village and the deep, multilayered defenses around it were firmly lodged in his memory. Oh, happy thought- the magic storm must be playing absolute hell with their golems and talisman defenses. He couldn’t see the evidence of that from kilometers away, but it seemed almost certain. The happy thought was replaced by an unhappy one- what if the…
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