Feeling snacky? Have cookie.
Worked up a thirst? Here’s a beer.
Shattered both ankles? Pop a dollop or two and you’re good to tango. It was fucking…
Mental healing — now that could take a lifetime — so fuck that shit. Ain’t nobody got time to work on their psyche when just staying out of some supernatural horror’s digestive tract was a normal Tuesday afternoon.
Robin had barely spent an hour wallowing in agony after the encounter with the FeralFleshResourcesrelicthank you, however, which seemed to have pleased the succubus.
Munching down on all the purple Chicken Corden Bleu nuggets he needed, the sensation of instant healing was almost as disorienting as gaining the wound itself. He could feel all the bones in his lower extremities knitting together like watching a rewind video of corn chips getting crushed. The pain melted away as proper sensation returned to his feet. Shortly, he was able to hop upright without a problem. He even put himself through a few bars of choreography from that medieval setting of he’d had a moderate part in a couple years ago.
The next problem was how to heal everyone else. It actually proved easy in Ashalina’s case. With a bit of scrounging around, Robin found plenty of abandoned Life
Robin fetched an unconscious Martiposa from the fire truck outside noting that the entire building had turned InfernalHomeBase
He found a small room on the top floor that was relatively clean. Sure, the bed was a bare mattress on a dilapidated frame, but at least there was no blood or turd spackle, just clumps of black and white fur and the lingering scent of rancid vinegar. “I bet this was StinkPew’s room,” Robin told himself, as he gently deposited the pixie onto the mattress. One of Martiposa’s blue, gossamer wings got slightly folded under him. His chest was visibly concaved, his dark brown skin black with bruises. Robin tried to carefully fix the wing but jostled him too much. Marti awakened with a scream.
“Sorrysorrysorry,” Robin cooed. Martiposa clutched at his chest and tried to sit up but collapsed back, tears seeping from his eyes. Robin felt helpless. He had no healing magic and no ResolveResources
The pixie continued to weep quietly to himself while Robin tiptoed out into the hallway. His mind scrambled to formulate a plan but his thoughts were jumbled and chaotic. Sure, he had somehow —accidentally — siphoned boatloads of Resolveto do it again. He had left them catatonic, unable to live independently and didn’t wish to render that horrid closing of life curtains on anyone else. Especially not the despondent denizens of this neighborhood.
Turned out the devil siblings did the dirty work for him. While Robin was settling Martiposa and half-heartedly scrounging around the dingy abode, the siblings had ventured out into the surrounding tenements. Once more, Robin didn’t ask about the details of the literal buckets-full of FearResources
“You do realize these won’t help Marti,” Robin stated peevishly. He held one overflowing pail of little red bon-bons up as evidence in Yarya’s face. “He needs the green ones, you dweebette.”
“Well, I don’t have the ability to farm ResolveMysticmake it work. We need the pixie healed and ready to fight as soon as possible.”
Not wanting to antagonize her any further, he shuffled away, grumbling childishly to himself. “Fine, I’ll just ‘’ to alter them. Maybe you want me to give you a foot rub while I’m at it? How about I go full Martha Stewart on this place and pluck all the flies in the conference room out of the air with chopsticks? How about that, you feckless flame-addled freak?”
Alter into SantaSackResources
Martiposa was not asleep, he remained in the exact same pose Robin had left him in a while ago. Obviously, the pain was so bad he couldn’t even shift around to get more comfortable. At least his face was dry of tears. “Marti, I’ve had a stroke of genius!”
“Ashalina can smell strokes, you know,” the pixie said, attempting to sound light-hearted. “And please, stop calling me ‘Marti’. Where I come from it is quite rude to shorten a person’s name.”
“Oh gawd, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” Robin dropped softly onto the edge of the bed, careful not to touch the feyMan
Martiposa closed his eyes with a sigh. Maybe he didn’t believe Robin or maybe he knew something that precluded the possibility. “Have you learned a new spell, my friend?”
Robin shook his head. “No, but I am pretty sure I earned a crap-load of ExperienceDots
Martiposa sighed again. “Ah yes, your relic
“Nothing, just lie there and think healing thoughts.” Robin unslung the bag from his shoulder and plopped it onto the floor. “Alright, alright, alrighty. Let’s cook up something sweet for Mister Hottiepants, here. Something classic and wondrous enough to make dollop-for-dollop switch-a-roos.”
There was no need to cast the Naughty & Nice spell Atrribute
ROBIN’s RESULTS: 3 successes [quality = 14]
ESN d6 = 6
Nice Talk d6 = 4
Nice Talk d4 = 4
Nice Talk d4 = 3
Extra Cards Spent: BRN d4, AGL d6, FOR d6+d4, REA d6+d8, AWR d6, WLP d8+d10, PRE 2d12, BOH d8
Feeling the familiar tingle of active magic, Robin reached into the SantaSack
“Holy shit! It’s a Betty Crocker Hot Box
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Martiposa slowly lifted his head to take a look. “What is Easy Bake Oven? I think I know those words individually, but they make no sense together.”
“Must be a function of the universal translator spell in this world,” Robin surmised. “An EZ-Bake Oven is a kid’s toy that has been around since, like, the fifties. The 1950’s I mean, in my world, which was like 70 years ago or some shit. I think my mom had one of these when she was little.”
The pixie’s head dropped back to the mattress. “So you have made me a toy.” He sounded defeated.
“No… I mean, yes,” Robin sputtered. “It’s a toy in my world but here I bet it does magicky baking goodness. Let’s try it.” Robin pulled a handful of red FearResourceResolve
Nothing happened.
“Silly me,” Robin said. “Martiposa, you need to activate it.”
Martiposa obligingly pushed the button. It took two minutes, during which the pixie kept his eyes closed and Robin stared unblinkingly into the oven. The light inside it was pathetically dim so it was hard to tell for sure, but the red nuggets definitely were changing color.
The oven dinged and he quickly yanked out the two dishes expecting them to be hot, but they weren’t. They were perfectly room temperature and sure enough, the dollops were now bright Kelly green in hue. “Here ya go, my friend. Green bon-bon band-aides to the rescue.”
Martiposa reluctantly peered at what Robin held out then opened his lilac eyes even wider. “It has actually worked! I am… I am… astounded.” Uncharacteristically, the pixie gracelessly gobbled up the ResourcesResolve
The pixie danced about the room, flapping his wings and pounding his chest with delight. “I am made anew, friend Robin. Thank you, thank you.”
Robin smiled, feeling good at having done something benevolent for once.
Martiposa opened the room’s one window all the way. “I think I shall go for a fly, if it is all the same. It will feel marvelous to soar the skies and get some fresh air.”
Robin waved him away, impressed that the small man could bodily squeeze through the window without injuring his delicate-looking wings. He watched for a moment as the pixie disappeared around the neighboring red tenement building.
Pleased with his work, he left the oven on Marti’s bed and picked up his SantaSack
? ? ?
Later that day, the filthy firehouse got swarmed. Swarmed with people so pathetic Robin almost wished it had been just flies buzzing about the place. Beige folk, presumably from the neighboring tenements, paraded into the building with buckets, mops, rags and every cleaning supply imaginable.
“Du’ fuck is going on?” Robin asked of the implacable Ashalina. He’d found her standing in the garage appearing to be studying the animalistic totem poles.
“The devils have frightened the residents into cleaning our HomeBase
Sure enough, as Robin took a closer look, faint wisps of red Fear
Unbothered by Robin’s distress, the zombie placed one hand onto the nearest totem pole. At its apex, the top layer depicted a Chihuahua face, a human face and one that was a mix of the two, each pointing a different direction. Clearly, it was meant to represent the male Feral
“Have you been studying these?” Robin asked.
“No, just admiring them,” she said. “They are quite skillfully rendered.”
Robin shrugged. “I guess so, if you’re into remedial art.” Though, to be fair, Ashalina was right, the carvings were extremely lifelike. Maybe Robin’s prejudice against the savage former residents was tinting his review. “Do you think they did it themselves or did they hire a sculptor?”
“I do not know. This is my first time inside another HomeBase
He had follow-up questions, but a sudden thought popped into his mind replacing them. “Hold on, I might know where to look for the answer. Monika’s journal!”
Ashalina turned to look at him. How her deadpan and ravaged face managed to say both ‘’ and ‘’ at the same time, he could not explain. It was impressive, a marvel of acting aptitude he wished he could manage.
Robin reached into the SantaSackMysticFerals
He thumbed through pages quickly, not really bothering to read specific entries but letting his gaze wash over the paper in the hopes something might catch his attention. Luckily, Monika proved to be not too bad at drawing as there were plenty of illustrations to go along with her tidy cursive handwriting.
About halfway though the tome, he found a drawing of a totem pole depicting several animal and monster faces. He read the entry with Ashalina standing statue-like an arm’s length away. If she was even breathing, he couldn’t tell, especially not over the banging and clattering of the cleaning crew who quiveringly went about scrubbing filth from every surface with constant, over-the-shoulder nervous glances.
Robin looked up hoping Ashalina was interested in what he had learned. She simply stared at him, unblinking. “Well, according to this, Monika thinks that the world the wereBeasts come from — a place called Limbo — is populated with nothing but shape-changing, sentient animals. StinkPew told me that their kind wasn’t limited to one animal form back home, but here they can only shift between a single creature, a human shape and something in between the two.
“It also surmises that the totem poles are indeed carved by them to honor each form they have mastered. It’s like a genetic yearbook and the taller the pole the more reverence others give them.”
Ashalina stared emptily at him. Maybe there wasn’t much scientist’s inquisitiveness left inside her. It was impossible to tell what she was actually feeling. Or thinking.
Robin took a deep breath. “Maybe that would explain how two such tiny little runts ended up running a clan full of bigger canines and even a wereBear. The happy little bastards must have been more significant back in Limbo but got stuck as lap dogs here. I can relate.” He limply pulled at the cheap Santa costume. “I did gig and the game decided it was the sum total of my identity.”
Ashalina failed to be moved, physically or otherwise, by what he said. She continued to just stand there.
“Coolcool. Nice talk,” Robin muttered as he put the tome back into the SantaSack
He backed away slowly. Ashalina turned silently to the totem pole one more.
? ? ?
Robin claimed the room next to Martiposa’s on the top floor as his sanctuary. Now that the building was all clean — something that had taken the entire day and the sweat labor of nearly fifty dingy denizens from the tenements. He felt there might be some hope for a good night’s sleep. Even though he had recovered all his used AttributeFearcabal
Lying on the freshly-made bed, Robin decided to take some time to allocate the crap-load of ExperienceDotsFeral
He groaned. That sound meant the Instruction Manual had something to say. He reluctantly pulled it out and opened it to the first blank page, somewhat dreading what words would magically appear:
Hooray, hoorah and hoo-howdy! You’ve done gone and made yerself a better person. Now I’m no school principal, but I think you might need to be called into the office and gifted a cap and gown.
Oh no… wait. That’s right. You’ve already got a dapper hat and a two-buck-chuck outfit. But guess what? You can now be more Santa-tastic than ever before!
No longer do you linger in the lowlands as an Initiate. You’ve gone and made yer way into the highlands of being a full-fledged Novice.
This tier of experience grants you 10 Dots to go toward Attributes, 10 Dots to apply to Skills and you get to pick one entirely new Skill to add to your rep-oo-twahr. On top of all that, you’ve got a bonus 25 Dots to spend from killing two Home Base bosses.
For some reason, Robin felt no excitement at the news. He probably should, but a darkening sense of fatalism was settling over his mind like ash from a forest fire drifting slowly from the sky to greasily coat his soul. “Oh… yay. What Skills
You can choose to gain a SkillEntertainerMallSanta
The EntertainerSinging in the Rain, or .
The MallSantaShelf Elf Investiture, Candy Cane-i-copia and .
“Ha! Maybe Whore-frost should be called Hooker Ice.”
North Pole Whorefrost it is. Nice choice Chilly Billy.
“Fuckity fuckstiks on a fuck biscuit!” He hurled the book against the wall frustrated that his mouth had, once again, made a decision before his brain got a say.
The bedroom door creakily creaked open. Leaning against the frame stood a fully naked Zebryl, his prickly dick at full attention and already leaking. “Well, well, well. I do believe there is a new Novice
Robin’s night got decidedly carnal and little in the way of rest was achieved.