>1 year after /k/onvergence
>be me, poorfag sick of being a wage slave for some company
>getting murdered by fantasy creatures sounds better than this
>I'd rather die a young and free man rather than an old beaten dog
>fast forward one month
>have some beat up SKS I took off a dead orc a few days prior and my Mossberg Maverick 88
>am on a contract to kill a novice necromancer
>wander around for a few hours innawoods around the area he should be in
>spot deer and birds the occasionally but no people
>all of the sudden I hear branches cracking
>snap my eyes to the sound
>zombies begin to shamble out towards me from the woods
>shoulder the SKS and begin to unload into the group
>taking care to only shoot the head as they close in
>finish off the three before any get close, too few to worry about really
>the poor bastards seemed to have been peasants
>they are two humans and a half-elf
>looking into the woods, there's a path that leads deeper off of the main trail
>time to look for that necromancer
>walk down to the path to what looks like an old cabin
>nearly in ruins, yet still withstanding the elements
>all of the windows are busted up or cracked
>the door is barely standing up
>still better than my shit shack in town
>lucky bastard
>pushing the door to the side, I look in
>a zombie jumps out towards me and I stumble back on my ass
>it falls over me and tries to bite and pushes at my arms
>try to shoot it with the SKS and it gets hit out of my hands
>I grab its shoulders and roll it over so I'm on top of it
>using one hand hand to hold it down, I draw my knife
>thrust the knife the zombie's mushy temple
>it stops fighting and goes still
>I stumble back up
>pick up the SKS and open the door
>there's just one small room
>with little to look at
>an old bed
>a dusty brick fireplace
>broken down shelves in a kitchenette
>a trapdoor underneath a ripped up carpet
>bingo
>swap the SKS with my 12 gauge and slowly lift the trapdoor
>a short ladder that leads straight downwards
>flick on the maglite duct taped to my shotgun and hop down the hole
>fighting the urge to retch at the stale and rotten stink of the air
>sweep the light across dark area
>five tables and a desk are in the room
>three tables have cut up and stitched bodies
>all freshly dead
>other two are stained heavily with dried blood
>desk seems well kept
>a large cage sits in the corner of the room
>walking over to it, I check inside
>a little kid
>looking beat up real bad, cuts and bruises, half starved
>OhShit.jpg
>this person might be alive
>try to open it
>locked
>gotta be a key somewhere
>walk over to the desk
>it has various diagrams of basic anatomy strewn about
>scalpels, saws, and sutures in a tray
>a drawer
>just some old papers in elvish
>go back to the lock
>it looks rusted to all hell
>I try to kick the lock open to no avail
>hmmmm...
>pull out the heavily worn SKS
>/k/ube forgive me
>swing the SKS like a baseball bat at the lock
>a loud ass clang noise reverberates throughout the room
>my hands now throbbing in pain
>of course the lock is still fine
>SKS has a new crack in the stock
>fucking retarded move
>hear groans come from behind me
>drop the SKS
>flip around with my shotgun light
>the table bodies are waking up
>blast the closest one to me before it can get up
>the other two are up now
>pump the shotgun
>both moping closer
>shoot one
>pump again
>the last one is only arms distance away
>point blank shoot into the last zombie's skull
>blood spatters onto my clothes and paints the wall behind it
>that won't come out easy
>reload the Mossberg
>pick up the poor SKS
>am still no closer to opening the cage
>there might be something up top I missed
>climb the ladder
>start looking around the room again
>drawers in the kitchenette yield nothing new
>stirring up the bed sheets also give no luck
>maybe town has something I can use
>before I finish my thought, bullets bust a window and whiz past me
>I run to take cover with the SKS behind the wall and peak out of the window
>an elf in black robes with a hi-point is shooting at the cabin
>at me
>he's surrounded by some more undead
>"fuck! Move at him!"
>the shooting stops, but his undead move forward
>my turn now asshole
>leaning out of the window, I ready my rifle
>the necromancer runs behind a tree as I pop off a few shots at him
>I turn my focus to the small shambling mass headed my way
>each round sent giving another poor soul its final rest
>hearing the disappointing empty click, I drop the SKS
>ready the Mossberg at his cover
>he finally leans out with his pistol aimed at me, eyes squinted and fierce, and goes to fire
>but he was too slow
>I shoot at his center mass and fill his chest with buck shot
>he falls over limp on the ground
>a pained groan as he collapses
>I exit the house with both guns and approach his body
>never taking my gun off him
>he is shakily crawling towards the dropped pistol but gives up when he sees my approach
>a small pool of blood is forming around him now
>I roll him over with my foot to face me
>he is be breathing still, but it's somewhat shallow
>"please... let me live... I'll give you anything"
>'give me the key to the cell down there'
>he pulls out a very antique looking key from his pocket and holds it up
>pocketing the key, I then top off the shotgun and switch to my SKS to reload
>"so you'll let me live then? You'll never see me again I promi-"
>I answer that by pointing the rifle at his head and pulling the trigger
>how many times have I heard that bullshit before?
>spit on his corpse
>fuck necromancers
>he probably used his undead to ambush any unfortunate passerby
>every victim making the next poor bastard even less likely to escape
>all just people with families that they never made it home to
>take a picture with my phone as proof of his demise for the contract
>pocket the hi-point, something extra to sell
>go back down into the basement
>the smell seems somehow worse than beforehand
>after a short coughing fit I throw up
>taking pictures of every corpse, I make my way to the cage in the back
>try the key in the lock
>it pops open and I open the cage gate
>check for a pulse
>thank /k/ube the kid is still alive
>'we're going to get you home, okay?'
>she doesn't respond
>probably barely conscious
>up top I photograph every corpse
>get back to the village around sunset
>walk into the contract building
>a middle aged dwarf everyone here just calls Stacks is working the shift right now
>a mound of paperwork next to him
>the rest of the room is pretty quiet, just some people looking at the contracts pinned up on the wall
>walk up to his desk with my contract paper and the pictures I took for proof
>'hey Stacks, just finished another one. There were some zombies that could've been locals, I marked where I found them and got pictures'
>he looks up from the papers and checks my contract and photos
>"good work Anon, I'll get yer payment right 'ere. We'll look for the bodies to bury in the morning"
>Stacks opens a drawer on the desk and pulls out a sack of money
>putting a set of various coins on the table for me to pocket
>"by the way, what's the deal with that kid on yer shoulder? I'm guessin' she's a survivor?"
>'yeah, I'm not sure what to do with her though, I figured maybe someone's looking for her, and she's hurt'
>"ah, Aunt Bess at the inn could probably take care of her 'till 'er parents are found, she owes me a favor"
>I feel bad for leaving her with someone else
>hopefully she has some family somewhere that can help her
>'thanks, I'll go check in with Bess then'
>walk out of the contract building and down to the inn at the end of the street
>go inside
>there's some people eating at the tables or drinking at the bar
>Bess is at the bar area
>'evenin' Bess, Stacks said you might help this kid out until her parents can find her, found her on a job'
>"I can see if someone recognizes them and knows where they are, so sure thing"
>I set her down on a bed in a backroom
>she's been sleeping the whole time, must be rough
>walk out to my home
>if you could call it that even, it's a sheet metal shed with a tin roof
>just enough room for a cot, a nightstand, and my duffel bag of stuff
>luckily it's cheap as dirt for rent, just the 8x5 box of land it's on
>change out my bloody clothes for some fresh ones, tossing the old ones outside
>wash the vomit taste out of my mouth
>my nose still holds scent the putrid rot, almost burned into it
>lie down on my bed
>time to finally sleep
 
 
 
>or so I thought
>every waking second feels like a year
>wrestling around for what seems like hours I sit up and turn a lamp on
>look down at my hands 
>they won't stop shaking, like engines put to life
>my heart beating like mad
>the gleam of something on my nightstand catches my eyes
>put on some clothes and grab my shotgun to go on a walk to clear my head
>with the bottle
>maybe the clean scent of pine trees will help
>following a familiar trail to the woods, the contents of the bottle seem to vanish at each step
>not long before it's just an empty container
>stumbling slowly down the trail, I see a deer
>it seems not startled by me yet, it must be friendly
>I make a halfhearted smile at it
>nature's always nice
>starting down the trail I realize something odd
>the deer smiled back
>with long and pointy teeth
>wait what
>deer... smiling... strange teeth
>stop dead in my tracks
>my heart seems to pause itself mid-beat
>hairs on my skin raise straight up and I start breathing loudly
>the forest suddenly seems dead silent, you could hear a pin drop other than me
>I find the courage to twist my body to face it, and find myself hyperventilating
>no longer is it on the edge of the treeline, but now is where I was standing only moments ago
>this monster seems to only grin harder and harder the longer I look
>no longer standing on four feet it is easily taller than me
>I'm going to die right now aren't I
>12 gauge doesn't do shit to skinwalkers
>running won't work
>fuck
>maybe Mr. Everclear here has an idea?
>the smile is so large it's jaw starts to pop and crack
>it takes one step closer
>fuck think faster
>another step closer
>rotting stench becoming more oppressive and overwhelming the closer it gets
>finally have an idea pops up
>it's stupid but Everclear and adrenaline only takes you so far
>'fellow forest dweller, I have an offer for you that you won't want to pass up! If you can understand me, that is...'
>suddenly it halts in its tracks and just stares at me, ragged breath fogging the air with each exhale like smoke
>'as I was saying, you're... probably hungry right? I know I probably look like food, ah, maybe I shouldn't have said that hahaha, uh let me restart...'
>I'm now shaking so hard I have to lean on a tree to stand up, becoming dizzy
>this time it's not the booze making me wobble
>eerily the skinwalker remains still as a stone it seems to keep listening
>'so let's assume you're hungry. Well I happen to know where a bunch of bodies are and if you don't eat me they're all yours for the taking. We could become good friends! I've never had a skinwalker friend, nor has anyone that I know of hahaha...'
>the silence feels deafening
>'Well... shit, uh... if that sounds good, I'll be walking towards them down this trail to them, just follow me'
>my whole body is riddled with sweat, soaking through my shirt
>I bumble down the trail to the cabin I was at earlier
>every crack of a leaf or stick making me throw my head back at the creature that follows in tow
>not a single bird chirps, even the trees seem to lean back away from us
>we finally arrive on the path that breaks off to the cabin
>start pointing out the first bodies
>every crunch and ripping noise makes my face sour more
>this is pretty messed up
>maybe they would've been eaten by wolves or something anyways
>even if they got buried the worms would get them
>circle of life I guess, I try to convince myself, a grimace on my face
>when looking at two of the bodies, my light catches two metallic reflections
>they have matching engraved rings
>'Uh, skinwalker buddy, can I take something off those bodies before you get to snacking?'
>it's head twists clockwise at me, slowly making a full rotation
>'Oh no don't worry, the meat's all yours, just want a memo, you wouldn't want it anyways hahaha'
>crouch down at the bodies
>without letting the skinwalker leave my sight
>take the two rings off them
>'look, I'm really sorry about this, I'll make it up somehow' I whisper to the bodies, more to myself than them
>let my new friend clean up the basement
>thank /k/ube I got that kid out of there earlier
>'alright. I've held my end of our friendship agreement, I'm going to go home now friend... see you later'
>step back onto the trail slowly, looking back at it watching me leave
>fuck seeing that thing again I'm out of here
>walk out of sight around a bend
>sprint back to town all the way to my shed
>slam the door so hard my sheet metal wall bends
>sit down on my cot
>did that just fucking work?
>I'm never getting rid of this bottle
>liquid courage saved my life
>thank you Mr. Everclear and the madmen that distilled you
>very carefully put it back on my nightstand
>it almost glows proudly with new purpose
>or literally
>light begins to shine brightly through the cracks in the wall
>getting something to eat sounds great right now
>walk to the inn with some money to spend
>open the inn's door
>I notice Stacks and Bess talking over breakfast at the bar
>the kid there too eating away, in new clothes
>some other folks eating at tables
>the two older ones watch me approach
>"damn Anon, you look like shit, and for that matter smell like it too. What happened?"
>'I've had a long night and met a friend if you could call it that, and Stacks, you don't need someone to bury those bodies anymore'
>"...alright then. Saves me the trouble of payin' someone to go and do it, no extra paperwork either"
>by this point everyone there is looking at me
>don't give a damn
>who won the lottery? I did!
>not in a million years would I have expected that to work
>'could I get something to eat and drink Bess, I'd be happy for anything at this point'
>"sure thing, we still have hot breakfast. I'll get you some water too…"
>look over at the little one
>eating slouched over the bowl
>staring off into nowhere
>no facial expression, just emptiness
>that hurts to look at
>I notice she's not a human, but has two pointed ears atop her head
>long gray hair that’s roughly kept but much neater than before, Bess must’ve done her best
>a small tail, poking out from under her shirt
>a wolf girl kid, way too skinny
>saw her kind on tv a couple times before, sometimes work as Kommando on this side
>I wonder what happened…
>get my plate of fresh bacon and eggs
>wipe the plate clean in only about a minute
>thinking back on the night, I recall something
>'oh yeah, I got two matching rings from what I'd guess was a married couple from the bodies, they're engraved the same. See if anyone recognizes them'
>set the two rings down on the table
>the kid's face suddenly changes
>wooden spoon dropping into the bowl, settling
>her face cracking and quivering
>tears fill her eyes and she begins to sniffle
>I fucked up didn't I
>'...I'm sorry... I'll check in with you guys later...'
>I don't even know what to say
>with a pained face, I slink out of the room
>glancing over my shoulder on the way out, I see Bess walking her into a room talking quietly



>with some days having gone by, I find myself in a village a couple miles west
>some wagons posted on the roadside, various trinkets set about
>and recently there's been issues at an old graveyard down the road
>bodies desecrated and missing
>some valuables stolen
>townies got scared and pooled together some money
>they want to make sure the graveyard is safe, and have us investigate
>asking around, I discover someone saw an antlered figure near the graves
>hearing that sends a chill down my spine
>an image still freshly burned in my mind
>too late to back away now
>walking to the edge of town, two figures wait
>"You're our third I'm guessing. I'm surprised to see another Kommando here, this'll be easy"
>a young man wearing M85 woodland with a holstered M1911 says
>leaned back on a fencepost, cigarette in hand
>'let's hope so. Is that pistol all you have?'
>"hell yeah! This thing won two world wars. TWO." 
>he says as he's waving around the .45 
>in the direction straight at the village
>us included
>I frown at him
>his cigarette ember flares
>smoke billowing out from his uncaring face
>the other is an older man probably in his 50’s, standing at distance away from him
>a hood of a brown long coat obscuring his face
>what looks like a Gewehr 88 in hand, a shepherd's ax slung on the back
>we begin walking towards the gravesite through the woods
>shotgun loaded in hand
>little is said while walking
>we begin investigating
>the graveyard is quiet, nobody around
>a single stone pillar marked as the tomb of the founding chief lies in the center
>with a grave opened yet undisturbed, among a few others
>wooden and stone grave markers, many fallen over are strewn about haphazardly
>holes dug in various locations and left open
>some skeletonized body parts remaining with rotted clutter
>mounds of upturned soil attesting to their disrespect piled around
>I wander towards the fencing marking the gravesite
>finally a hint
>bits of wood busted
>dried blood and grass recently smashed down trailing off into the brush line
>walking towards the others, the zoomer boomer shouts excitedly while kneeling over a dug hole
>the founder's grave
>"Hey this guy got buried with a old sword, I bet I could clean it up"
>his hand reaches downwards at the weapon
>holds it up to the sun
>smugly grinning at the garbage as if he just found lost treasure 
>some of the dirt mounds scattered about suddenly shudder
>the hooded man turns crouches suddenly and readies his rifle
>HereWeGoAgain.mp3
>I point my shotgun at a mound in turn
>'I don't think it's a good idea to touch anything here'
>I caution
>"Nah it's fine, he doesn't need it anymore"
>the autist dismisses
>still distracted by the sword, he starts struggling to unsheathe it
>scabbard deeply rusted, it is swung at bottom of the pillar
>instead of a clang I hear a shouted cry
>from within the hole, an arm reaches out to catch the sword
>the young man yields the sword to the skeletonized hand
>bursting free from their resting places, a pack of black hounds emerge
>bounding towards us, barking and foaming at the mouth
>he retreats several steps backwards
>drawing his pistol, cigarette falling from his mouth
>shocked at the sudden change, he stares wide eyed at the dogs
>the older man fires first, with a dog collapsing mid gait
>yet another with it's mad eyes on him
>a slug blasts out of my barrel into one sprinting towards me from the side
>with the grace of a great grandpa, a body steps out from the mound
>sword in hand, rusty chainmail, and a closed steel helmet
>rotted eye sockets with a burning crimson glow peeking from within
>a black dog tackles the woodland kommando, biting at him wildly
>the arming sword is ripped from its sheath and it's tossed aside
>several .45 rounds ring out
>after some yelping the beast is silenced
>gramps drops his rifle
>kicking a lunging dog and drawing his ax
>swinging it above down into the spine with a dexterity alien to his age
>it smashes into the ground, lifeless
>I step backwards, racking my 12g back
>within arms length, it bares its teeth to bite at my face
>I bayonet thrust, piercing the chest
>slam the pump forwards and I fire
>blasting a hole through it
>the beast whimpers and falls over
>seizing the moment, the dead founder swings at the fallen man
>tearing into the zoomer boomer’s neck and at the jugular
>blood spatters out, and he kicks his shoes into the ground wildly
>dropping the M1911 on the grass
>with a mad look in the eye, a single remaining black dog rushes me
>blood dripping from it's jaws
>hatred in it's red eyes, it jumps at me
>in reflex I brace the shotgun sideways
>its teeth sinking into the receiver
>claws rip into my left leg through my pants
>the undead swordsman stomps on and over the lifeless Kommando
>towards the older gentleman
>I grind my teeth at the pain, and knee the dog's stomach
>trying to break it's hold on my shotgun
>in vain
>the man draws a Mauser C96 from a coat pocket
>five rounds zip into the monster's body
>finally releasing the death grip
>a sword swings at his chest and he jumps back
>I aim my shotgun at it, ready to send a slug downrange
>he uses the blunt of his ax and slams it on the head
>staggering it backwards
>denting the rusty helmet like a tin can
>taking the opportunity, I slam my remaining shells into the head and body
>the corpse staggers with each shot, and kneels
>'Smash it's head!'
>with that, the man bats the blunt side from right to left
>the neck cracks sideways and the helmet flies several feet
>sending the body limp and crumpled over
>a sigh of relief escapes me, and I reload my 12g
>I begin to close the space between us
>until I inhale sharply at the laceration in my leg aching  
>the gentleman finishes wiping viscera off bis ax, and glances at the blood running down my leg
>”... you okay?”, he asks in a hoarse voice
>I smile and chuckle softly, pointing at the fresh body
>'Better than him, poor bastard. There's some blood and a trail out this way'
>”hmm.”
>an awkward moment sets in
>I scratch at my arm a little
>'I can still walk, I'll put something for now to help the bleeding'
>taking a seat, I pour Everclear from a flask onto a rag
>cleaning my leg up, sneaking a swig in
>fucking hell that burns
>I put some homemade duct tape and paracord butterfly sutures on
>good enough for now I guess
>following the trail, it splits off in several directions
>blood trails leading to more dead dogs in the woods
>a couple days old
>and a stream, marking the end of a final trail
>damn, no more leads
>making one last pass by the corpses, I stop at the Kommando
>I look back at the other guy, and he knowingly shrugs
>pocket the 1911, some .45 magazines, the ammo
>and toss the box of Red's Cowboy Killer cigarettes to the other guy
>tobacco’s worth a lot out here
>'I wouldn't want to be on your bad side'
>pointing to the caved in helmet while passing by
>'thanks for the save, uh, I think I owe you one'
>"don’t sweat it..."
>'I saw some traders setting up shop here, I was going to check it out...'
>"oh... okay."
>not much of a talker I guess
>other than our steps, the walk back is quiet
>speaking with the townsfolk, I fill them in on what was found
>they happily pay in full, and we split it 50/50
>even promising a nice lot in their graveyard for it's new resident
>how polite



>I part ways, half limping to the caravan with a duffle of junk weapons I cleaned up
>take a swig of some of the liquor on the way
>shit fucking burns as much as the gash
>some fat halfling is the head merchant at the caravan, says they’re leaving east in a month
>trade in my little haul below market price to get discounts
>get some info on a plant for healing wounds
>a 6 color desert uniform from an elf wearing an SS hat
>glancing at different wares, something catches my eye
>come to think of it, that kid’s probably got no clothes, or really anything…
>hmmmm…
>buy some more stuff & leave with a duffle bag full, and less money than I started with
>greedy fucks, but there ain’t much competition here
>keeping an eye out as I walk, I collect some of that moss on the way home
>it’s a faded mint green, and grows on older trees around here
>use a pressure bandage with a mushed poultice, and change into shorts
>stuff feels minty on the wound, kind of refreshing actually
>head to the inn, and get lunch from Bess, just her and some regulars
>’how’s the kid doing? That job was pretty bad… I feel terrible for her’, I hand her my plate, and pay
>”about as good as she can be, hasn’t spoken a word this whole time…” 
>’anything about her family?’ I ask quietly
>she shakes her head as she flips some chicken
>I frown, and adjust the straps on my bag a little
>’Do you mind if I check in on her?’
>”of course. She’s up, I just got her some food”
>Bess warmly smiles at me, and I head over to the room
>door’s open and the kid’s sitting on one of two beds, 
>a distant and sad expression, spacing out while looking outside the window
>I try to put on a good smile, but my heart hurts just seeing her 
>give a light nock, and she jolts a little looking over at me
>she looks down at my leg, and back up at me, tilting her head slightly
>’o-oh, that’s nothing, just gotta rest a bit. Mind if I come in?’
>she nods, and sits upright, with her ears down
>I quietly step in and sit on the bed that’s across from hers
>’I thought it might get cold here at night for you’
>digging through my bag, I hand her an m65 jacket with the liner
>she tries it on, and it looks huge on her
>a large rectangular shape is almost bursting out of a pocket
>I give a thumbs up with a chuckle
>I stashed a box of Arrr! chocolate cookies for her to find
>damn expensive, but hopefully a nice surprise for her
>I set a husky face hair along with a nice hair brush down
>it’s got this goofy expression
>’I’m sure Bess’d brush your hair if you’d like, I thought these’d help…’
>she stays silent, but inspects at the pin, and a hear a “fwoosh” as I close up my bag
>her ears are up now
>’I just thought it reminded me of my old dog er- like not you the pin, shit, I hope that wasn’t rude, sorry…’
>kube be damned, I’m retarded
>she doesn’t seem to mind much
>’well, I’ve got to rest this leg up a little, I’ll leave you to it’
>I stand up and get ready to leave
>she’s looking down at the pin, and one of her pointed ears flicks itself a little
>intrusivethoughtsactivate.mp3
>scratch & pat the top of her head gently
>she flinches back at first instinctively but relaxes
>her tail swooshes on the bed back & forth, and I pull my hand away
>I have a stupid smile as I walk out, and turn briefly
>’is it alright if I check in on you again soon, Kiddo?’ 
>she nods, and waves, I wave in kind as I leave
>she seems a little better than when I showed up
>I’m feeling a little better too honestly
>the next few days are pretty quiet
>too injured to work, I just get drunk and keep my wounds clean
>this moss works wonders though, I feel good enough to mostly walk around
>getting kinda bored, I decide to go fishing just before sunrise
>hungover from last night, actually the last couple piled up
>gets me off my ass, and saves some money
>everyone else gets up around now, no tech & all, so I head for breakfast
>Bess is making her usual, and the Kiddo is eating a plate
>’mind if I have some?’
>Bess looks up, “sure thing! Right n’ ready”
>the Kiddo looks back and her tail flips a couple times underneath the jacket I gave her
>it makes me smile
>her hair looks about the same though
>I guess she hasn’t spoken to Bess still
>definitely not my terrible gift taste…
>probably
>I take a seat with a gap between myself and the kiddo, and eat
>she glances over at me as I eat occasionally, a little awkward
>used to eating by myself even here
>loner.png
>she’s probably cooped up in that room all day since Bess runs this place
>’hey, I’m thinking of fishing at the lake here, wanna get outside for a bit?’