The Search for Vanessa Hawthorne: Decompressing

The last thing that John expected to see when he woke up was the furry, concerned face of his tavern’s single employee. Bearnard snuffled at his slumped form and delicately nudged one of his shoulders with an inquisitive claw. John winced preemptively, but instead of suffering the searing pain of a dozen broken bones, he felt fine. The damage to his armor had been repaired as well, and the aches of fighting through the waters of the Everdeep were gone. It was as though someone had pressed a reset button.

Everything about the Mosasaurus and the last few hours just felt like a bad dream…

Bearnard set a bubbling mug in front of him, filled to the brim with a sweet-smelling brown liquid. It didn’t seem alcoholic, so John took the drink in one hand and pulled it closer. The fizz peppered his face as he leaned in to take a sip. It was good. A bit like cream soda mixed with butter and thickened considerably. It was warmer than he’d expected too.

On reflection, the prevalence of being offered a drink had increased dramatically in his life recently… though with the other events that had accompanied it, the shift wasn’t entirely unwelcome. If most people dealt with half the things he’d been going through, they’d probably start drowning themselves in booze. He certainly wouldn’t judge them for it.

As John sipped away at the soda, he began to shake off the fugue that had been plaguing him since waking. The warmth in his belly was comforting and the quiet surroundings of the empty tavern helped to ground him back in himself. He was in Ulthar again, which meant he was in the Dreamlands, so this was the real dream. The nightmare chase of the Everdeep had happened, and he had in fact facefucked a needy goblin prostitute. He could’ve done with just one of the two, though.

Skimming through his Progress Screen, he verified those facts further. They weren’t the only thing he discovered though. There was an achievement he’d obtained that **** him to reconsider something he’d dismissed due to the impossibility it represented.

“Deus”
Meet me.
+1 Attribute Point
+1 Skill Point
+Continuity

New Aspect: Continuity ~ 1
The world turns, do not let it halt.
(Enhancement - Endurance)

The hallucination with Gaia had been real. No words could properly describe the way John’s sense of scale and reality crumbled beneath his metaphorical feet. He’d met the Developer, he’d met ‘God’. She was a real, tangible thing that had appeared before him and spoken his name. Atheism, agnosticism, every religion on the planet was wrong and simultaneously right! What was he supposed to do with that kind of knowledge?

She’d… saved him. That was the worst part. What kind of monster necessitated that a literal God step into the picture? His memory called up a name from somewhere, and though John could not place how he knew it he shuddered at the echo of a voice: Kadath, kiddo..

John took another deep swig of his drink and tried to shove the knowledge he’d uncovered back into his mind. It wasn’t the first time that the Developer, that Gaia, had interacted with him, and though he couldn’t fathom why she’d intervene on his behalf, it was probably best if he didn’t know. He was a measly level 7 ‘gamer’, not some kind of big damn hero. His circles barely included people like Erica and Moira, not Mrs. Wentworth or Lord Brighton and certainly not Gaia.

He was an ant among cats and did not like the way that some were eyeing him.

The achievement wasn’t the only bonus he’d reaped; at some point in his ****-out descent, his Workshop’s research had finished, and surviving the Predation Barrier had completed his daily quest and rewarded him with a new weapon.

Nightmare Project Status: Completed
Spell formulae can be claimed at your Workshop.
Research is currently idling. Progress will be stored at a 50% conversion rate.

Fang of the Deep Sea
A replicant dagger created from the melding of Oceanum and the jawbones of multiple apex predators. When drawn it splits into rippling echoes of itself that may be thrown without losing the original. Critical hits will induce temporary drowning.
Base Damage: 4 bleed + 6 pressure
Attribute Focus: Equivalent
[Artifact]

The spell was a welcome addition to his toolkit and the Fang was a direct upgrade to his current throwing daggers, quite an upgrade in fact. There was only one problem. They might not matter.

John was now clear-headed enough to worry about a more properly-scaled threat. The injuries he’d suffered at the hands of the Mosasaurus had been severe, bad enough that he’d needed to rely on morphine just to keep his body functioning. Based on the dosage time, the **** would last for several hours longer, but it did nothing to stop the internal bleeding. If he were conscious, the **** would curtail his ability to call for an ambulance, and even if he could, explaining the several broken ribs and morphine in his blood to EMTs would be difficult if not impossible. Assuming he’d survived to that point.

So, he was **** and bleeding out… but it wasn’t all just bad news. When he’d reviewed his inventory, he’d been relieved to find the reason why he’d nearly been eaten alive. The Shattered Casket of Dreams was sitting there comfortably, and his mana pool was uninhibited by the backlash of his unwanted Spell Focus curse. That meant he had been able to cast Hearth. At least he was dying at home in bed.

John finished off the mug with a last sip and held it out to Bearnard’s proffered claw. He’d completed one objective. Who knew if he’d survive the next-half hour, but at least he had that, right? He’d… finished a quest. It was ‘totally’ worth dying for. John sighed and his bearkeep snorted in commiseration. The Gamer looked up at his faithful employee.

“Hey, if anything… happens to me, you can have the place,” he mumbled.

Bearnard shook his furry head and finished scrubbing out a glass, setting it on the hook above the bar. He then shuffled back over to sit in front of John with a thud. They stared at each other long enough for it to get awkward.

Bartenders listen to their customer’s troubles… maybe that’s what he’s doing here. Well. It can’t hurt me any more than I already am.

“I’m kind of bleeding. Um. Badly. Right now. Probably. I don’t know,” John offered with a shrug. “It’s been a… long day.” The bearkeep nodded and his ears visibly perked up. John took it as a sign to continue, “It all started with my teacher, who is… a sadistic witch, and this bitchy cheerleader, Vanessa…”

---

“...and so, Erica’s probably freaking out right now. Tryn too,” John finished his story with a sigh; it’d taken a while to cover everything, but the bear was a good listener. “I’m kind of surprised I’m not dead yet, actually. What with all the internal bleeding… and the broken bones… and the painkillers...”

The bearkeep gave him a stern look, and John let his depressing thoughts quieten. Any time he got particularly grim, Bearnard would try to offer him another drink, and John had been more than full after the third mug. Eventually, he’d gotten the point. ‘No talking about **** in my bar.’ Technically it was his bar, but John didn’t really care.

Just the mere act of sharing his story with another soul had done a lot to quell John’s anxiety and soothed the burden of stress that he wasn’t even aware he’d been carrying. The comfort of the tavern helped a lot too. It was quiet, warmly lit through the windows, and above all else, it was a sort of home now. Plus…

If this is how I go, then it’s not so bad. It doesn’t hurt, and I’ve got a friend with me. I could do a lot worse. Anything beats broken ribs.

A ringing sound from behind John caught his attention as two customers entered the tavern, the first guests of the day. Unless it was the evening. Who really knew?

One was a taller Japanese man in a precisely cut suit, who completely ignored John even as he sat at the bar beside him and signaled Bearnard. The bearkeep looked at his boss, who gave him a nod, and then shuffled off to serve the impatient customer. John was much happier to see the second.

“Dreamer!”

“Charcoal!”

The black cat scurried over to him and hopped up directly into John’s lap. His hands moved before he really thought about it, giving the molly a scratch behind the ears and under the chin. As he realized the cat he was petting wasn’t just an animal but a person, the simple gesture became a bit awkward. He hesitated.

Charcoal purred and pushed her head against his fingers, and John started petting her again. She was a girl… cat… but a cat before a girl. Talking or not. Oh whatever, the pussy enjoyed being petted. It was the polite thing to do.

“It’s good to see you again,” the black cat said between loud purrs. “Ahh, now that’s nice. A bit under the chin, please… right there, yes…” Charcoal’s words started to get a bit breathy and she settled comfortably into his lap. At one point he swore she let out a little moan.

Ok, this is getting too weird…

John transitioned to stroking her back slowly, and the more uncomfortable noises ceased. “So… uh…” he tried to make conversation, “has the bar been doing well?”

“Oh, has it. I think half the city’s stopped in at least once, it’s quite a cozy place to catch a nap,” Charcoal answered. “I’ll have a bowl of milk, if you please.”

Bearnard snorted loudly with pride and set about preparing Charcoal’s order. More customers were pouring in now and John knew that the bearkeep would need to get to work properly soon, but the furry bartender kept glancing at him with concern. John gave him a reassuring nod.

“It’s only a shame that you don’t serve food.” The cat on his lap shook his hand off and leapt to the next bench over as Bearnard set her milk in front of her. She lapped at it and let out a sigh of satisfaction, “Delicious as always.”

“Always, huh?” John asked absentmindedly. Time flowed differently here, how long had the bar been open? Maybe he could get an answer out of Bearnard later. He glanced around the tavern and took in the now-bustling tables full of quiet and rowdy drunks alike. Bearnard was able to handle the workload, but he noticed a few tables with their chairs still up. The sooner he got the bearkeep some help, the better.

“Will you be staying for a while, Dreamer? Or are you just taking a cat-nap?” Charcoal asked casually, and John’s mind took that moment to remind him that he was still **** with a serious chest wound. He’d been so caught up in the cheer, he’d forgotten he was… yeah.

John looked over at the cat and gave her the best smile he could manage, “Not that much longer, I think. Maybe another time.”

Charcoal looked up at him with disappointment. “Shame. I would’ve loved to hear a few stories of the waking world. Ulthar can be rather sedentary and lazy compared to the places you Dreamers travel.”

“Well, how about the next time we see each other you tell me more about Ulthar and I’ll tell you all about Springfield. That’s where I’m from.”

“Certainly!” the cat purred the word.

As John wrestled with the guilt of lying to his feline friend, a fat, brown cat jumped onto his lap without invitation and used him as a springboard to vault onto the bar. “Hey, what the hell?” he snapped at it. This new cat ignored him completely and settled in front of Charcoal with a bit of flair.

“Charcoal, m’dear.”

The black cat looked up, and John could hear the way she rolled her eyes in her voice, “Oh, hello Alfred.” Her tone was flat and disinterested, “How are you today. Doing poorly, I hope.”

“Nonsense,” Alfred’s voice had a drawl to it that combined with his pompous attitude to be immensely irritating. “I’m doing im-pec-a-bly as always. My day is only brighter with the addition of my favorite, brilliant lady. Has anyone ever told you that you’re as blinding as the sun?”

Charcoal glanced over at John with an apologetic expression. “No, because I’m a black cat. Black. As in the night sky? The opposite of the sun?” She emphasized each of the words that refuted the tomcat’s attempt at a pickup line. “I was in the middle of a conversation with a good friend, if you don’t mind.”

“Bah, Dreamers and their silly stories. All a molly really needs is a big, warm tom to keep her safe and give her plenty of kits, not nonsense peddled by a bunch of transients.”

This time the expression that Charcoal sent John was a lot more emphatic, and he could read the growing rage in her eyes. She turned back to Alfred and her ears folded back. “Listen here, you insufferable-”

Alfred batted her on the nose.

“That’s unbecoming of you, Charcoal. Don’t you know you’re much more attractive when you keep your temper in check?” While she was stunned, Alfred licked one of his paws. “It won’t do for one of my future mates to be so disrespectful.”

Disrespectful, huh? I’ll show you fucking disrespectful.

John reached over his friend and grabbed the brown cat by the scruff of his overly-fluffed neck, then without ceremony picked him up off the bar. “Listen up, ‘Alfred’. This is my bar, and Charcoal is my friend, and I think you’re bothering her. How about you play nice or I throw you out on the street?”

“Please, do,” Charcoal hissed at them.

For his part, Alfred did his best to fight against John, but no matter how the angry cat thrashed, there was no way for his claws or teeth to reach the human. The ball of furious fur drew plenty of attention, and the whole bar had gone silent by the time that John reached the doors and hurled Alfred out into the streets of Ulthar.

“And stay out!” John shouted after him.

He turned back to a bar full of staring people, some of whom had their mugs half-raised to their lips. Nobody moved, until an angry female voice cried out from the bar, “Yeah! You mangy flea-bag!”

Several other patrons joined in, even though they had no idea what was going on. A dwarf bellowed something incoherent, and his companions burst out into laughter. The mood of the tavern returned to raucous celebration. John breathed a sigh of relief as he walked back to the bar.

“Thank you for that, he can be a menace. I cannot understand why so many of my siblings chose him to father their kits.” Charcoal patted at his arm with one paw, “He’s a buffoon.”

“Seems like it.” John glanced at Bearnard, “Hopefully, we won’t be seeing him around here again though.” The bearkeep snorted and nodded.

Charcoal made an expression that John took as an attempt at a smile, “I appreciate it. Now then, where were we?”

Being reminded of their conversation put John right back in his earlier mindset. Except… the internal bleeding really should’ve killed him by now… so why the hell hadn’t it? Something was off. Yes, an hour in Ulthar wasn’t the same as an hour in the real world, but he’d had mere minutes left when he’d first arrived. He’d definitely spent more than that here. He should be dead.

“Dreamer?”

Something, or maybe someone… is keeping me alive. Why?

“Actually, I need to go,” he said. He’d spent enough time hanging around waiting for **** to come to him, and if it wouldn’t, then he’d go to it. Maybe punch it in the face for taking so damn long.

Charcoal stared at him in confusion, then her expression turned to flat disregard. “Humph, I see,” she huffed. The cat turned away from him and went back to lapping her milk, with the scornful air of a stilted lover. John winced. He’d make it up to her later, if he could.

John left the bar in Bearnard’s capable hands and headed into the back to descend the steps to his sanctum. There was no telling what he might metaphorically walk into when he woke up, and he wasn’t suicidal. He needed every advantage he could get, and if he’d been left alive up until now, it was unlikely he couldn’t spare the time to prepare. If there was one thing that RPGs had taught him, it was that a wizard who was prepared was a wizard that was hard to kill.

Technically he wasn’t much of a mage, but the general idea still applied. Whatever the situation in the waking world, it was a good idea to tackle it with everything he had. He was greeted by several prompts the moment he entered his Workshop proper.

Spell Learned: Nightmare ~ 1
Afflict a target within 4 ~ (10% Intellect) meters with visions of horror, causing them to flee in terror for 4 ~ (18% Wisdom) rounds (24 seconds). Any damage taken will remove this effect. Mind-altering.
Cost: 14 mp
(Domain - Somnia)

Mana Reservoir 89% replenished.
Research queue is empty.
0:10:25 minutes of research credit are available.
Bar profit banked (75%): $9,621 added to account.
Training Grounds has been updated with new Simulations.

[Unknown] - Attribute enhancement project access granted!
[Unknown] - Undertow project access granted!

Undertow
Conjure an ethereal tentacle to grab an enemy within 7 ~ (16% Intellect) meters and draw them into melee range.
Cost: 14 mp
(Domain – Deep Sea)

Begin new project?

John browsed the menus carefully. It was less important which project he selected than having a project running at all, but he still considered his options carefully. This time there wasn’t a clear winner.

The base projects offered less individually impressive bonuses, but they all unlocked further research options, which hopefully would open up paths to some of the things he was still missing, like healing magic. All of them were things he’d chosen to ignore the first time he picked a project, and he regretted not trying one. He currently had three available:

Combat Enhancement ~ I
+1 rank to Gamer’s Arsenal
[Unlocks Combat Enhancement II]

Enchantment ~ I
Adds the ability to enchant weapons and armor to Forge.
[Unlocks Enchantment II]

Medical ~ I
+25% non-magical healing effectiveness. Does not affect natural hp regen.
[Unlocks Medical II]

Of the three, the medical project was the most compelling. His encounter with the Mosasaurus had really hammered in how badly John needed to improve his defensive and recovery capabilities.

Alternatively, there were the other projects, which he mentally labeled as ‘unique’. These offered new spells or changes to his core systems that seemed powerful on paper, but if he didn’t use them, then the research would be a waste of time and resources. As with the base projects, there were three available:

Foresight
Ks’mtofr ntod’mzus Xgsfosf I’obvs dtzs’mzto usgztm.

Undertow
Conjure an ethereal tentacle to grab a nearby enemy and pull them to your location.
[Spell]

Attribute Enhancement
Gain access to capstone quests which unlock special bonuses for having an attribute above a certain value.

John immediately tossed the Foresight project aside. He was done with cryptic anomalies, that one could stay unfinished forever. Undertow… now that might be a useful ability. He could immediately think of a few ways to make use of it in conjunction with the Thorn, but did he really need it? Nightmare was effective crowd-control and Undertow filled a similar role. He could pass on it for now.

Attribute enhancement was the difficult one to parse. He didn’t know what the capstone bonuses would be, but they were a way to get more out of what he already had. Worst case scenario, it was a nearly dead-end project with little returns… best case scenario it gave him a serious edge for progressing normally.

Better stats or stronger healing… it was a hard choice. In the end, his curiosity won out and so did the attribute enhancement project.

Research started. 7:49:19 until completion.

For several long minutes, John watched the clock tick down. It must’ve been in real-world time, as each second took three or four times as long as his own whispered count. He double checked just to ensure it, anxiety building. Was he really ready to go back to having broken limbs, or worse? Was he ready to face another monster and fight for his life again if he had to? Was he ready to wake up?

No. No I’m not. All I want to do is to go to sleep, but since I’m kinda doing that already… yeah. It’s time to face the music.

He needed to do this or the waiting would kill him before the blood loss did. John took a deep breath, then cast Stellar Dive. The tattoo on his arm glowed bright yellow as he infused it with magic and the world around him rippled with the spell. He closed his eyes.

If I’m wrong about this… at least I’ll get to see dad again.