Editing Game Log - Raphael (section)

==CHAPTER THREE: NIGHTLIFE IN THAT LITTLE TOWN==

*Michael James Watson

At Old Bruce's suggestion the first Tavern a couple blocks from the wall is the All-Gon Pizzaria.  Once a pizza place the back had once been a private hangout and now was a public bar.  Bruce said that he gets growlers of beer almost daily from them.  Its a human joint and the owners brew a lot.  Sadly the quality has gone down in the last 6 months as raw materials are scarce.  The place is nearly all human too.  Though the Arco Boys do hang out there when they make their rounds.  As he enters he has a sudden flash of a bare range of broken mountains surrounding a shallow inland sea. But the vision is just a flash.

*Daniel Eric Van Campen Sr.

As I enter the tavern I am whistling the last few bars of Ramble On by Led Zeppelin. I stop whistling when the Vision hits me. I shake my head and think to myself, "Weird", but I don't dismiss it as nothing, as too many strange things have happened in the last 24 hours for something like this to be ignored or dismissed. I try to remember what I saw and store the image away for later.

I look around the tavern, making note of the general layout, the location of the exits and anyone who might be inside having a drink. I look to the bartender and ask:

"Is it okay if I bring my pets in? I assure you they won't be any trouble and they won't make a mess. They are well behaved and potty trained. Call me Raphael. This is Slugger. We're just looking to relax with a few brews after a long road trip. Rodak said to put it on his tab."

*Michael James Watson

"Ya, sure. Bring the pets in. Its not like FDA is going to cite me. But, brohem, they look a little scrawny. You might want to fatten them up before you fight them. But what the fuck, its not my call. We got brown brew and yellow brew and pruno. The brown compares to a porter well. The Yellow is far better then budwieser used to be. The Pruno is mostly pear and rye these days but we keep it running. It isn't bad mixed with 7up."

*Daniel Eric Van Campen Sr.

I raise an eyebrow at the mention of dog fighting, blowing right past the use of the word 'brohem'.

"Last things first; a brown and a yellow, please and thank you. Secondly; I don't fight my dogs... not my thing. Now, I'm not against training dogs for defensive and offensive purposes, ya know; War Dogs, but pitting animal versus animal for sport... yeah, not my thing. But thanks for letting me know that that sort of thing goes on here."

After getting the brews, I find a table where I can sit with my back to a wall and where I can see the door I came in. I hand the yellow brew to Slugger and take the leashes from her. I order the dogs to stay, pointing to the area around the table and chairs, then tell them to be good boys before taking off the leashes. Then I pull out the brown bag from Old Bruce and pull out three bones, giving one to each dog. I watch for a minute or so out of the corner of my eyes while I drink the brown brew quietly, to make sure they don't fight over the bones. Then I look around the room, making note of other patrons.... wondering if this is the tavern where the shaman was supposed to be.

"So, what do you think of the brew, Slugger? Better than Bud?"

*Michael James Watson

"Its familiar. Like the stuff dad brews. Homemade. He puts it on cereal. Nasty. Did you see where curios went? Out that door at the back maybe? Hey...look at those guy...they look all puffy..."

Following her glance he sees down the bar. The long thin room has about a dozen patrons, mostly men. By the back door he sees Curious walking out, looking around curiously. Two men by the door are indeed puffy. Raphael realizes he is looking at two actual orcs.  They look after Curious and follow him out.

*Daniel Eric Van Campen Sr.

"Yeaaahhh... he went out the back door" I say with a sigh. "Guess I should go see what he's up to... especially since those Orcs are following him."

I take a long drink as I stand. Setting the glass down I say to Slugger, "Watch the dogs, I'll be back."

I head towards the back door, thinking: ~Guess I'm going to meet my first Orc up close and personal now. Cross that off my Bucket List.~

*Michael James Watson

Rushing out the back he sees an orc grab Curios from where it sat on the corner of a fight pit. The sounds of dogs fighting a crowd cheering tells him everything.

Curious erupts in claws and screeches tearing the orcs hand to shreads almost instantly. His companion laughs outloud. Curios is dropped in the pit

reaching the pit he sees Curious and a bleeding pit bull square off. The fight starts quickly and R sees immediately that the dog is out matched. It flees in seconds, to a back corner. Turning to the other dog it hisses loudly. It backs away instantly. Neither look eager. The first one falls over showing its belly.

Curious leaps to the railing, walking to R, climbing to his shoulder, wrapping around his neck to start sleeping.

A man walks over, handing a stack of paper bag slips and a few dollars over, "Mister, no doubt your cat won that round. But I won't pit it against the dogs again. Embarrassing. What's his name?"

*Daniel Eric Van Campen Sr.

"Curious." I look at the slips and dollars. "Niiiice! Drinkin' money!" I look at the man who handed to me. "I hate takin' yer money, but I hate not takin' it more. Thank you."
I turn and walk out, headed back to my table I turn the slips over to the bartender, I pocket the greenbacks, I head back to the table with Slugger.

*Michael James Watson

The slips say things like "Wash car" or Weed Garden" most tasks of no use to him anyway.

*Daniel Eric Van Campen Sr.

Then the bartender will be happy to have them. LOL

"So it seems Curious has won a fight, won us a few dollars and some good will with the bartender... and a reputation for himself... this cat is really growing on me... I mean almost literally; he is like melted into my shoulders and neck sleeping."

I chuckle as I grab my brown ale, finish it off quickly and head back to the bar for a refill.

*Michael James Watson

At the bar the brown ale is waiting. So are two rather scabby looking men. His thought on one of the thin toothless men was that the change didn't quite make him an orc; it only got half way making him a meth head.

"Put that on my tab. Its a business meeting. So Harley, What would you like for the cat? Gas, gold, or groceries; no one fights for free."

*Daniel Eric Van Campen Sr.

My demeanor is friendly when I respond.
"The cat is not for sale. And if there is some fee involved for fighting, take it up with that scratched up asshole back there..." I point back towards the fighting room, "he's the one who threw the cat into the pit without asking if he was a competitor."

My demeanor becomes a little less friendly.

"And tell Mr. Scratches back there that if I had been in MORE of a fighting mood and LESS of a drinking mood I would have thrown HIS ass in the pit for what he did."

Then my demeanor gets downright menacing, my voice drops from a soft baritone to a deep menacing whispery bass and my right hand drops to my hip where my kukri and a sheath of three flat steel throwing daggers are located.

"And if anyone touches this cat, those dogs" I point over my shoulder with my thumb "or that kid' I will end them. Savvy?"
My demeanor becomes friendly again as I turn to the bartender.

"And Barkeep, don't put my drink on his tab, I drink on Rodak's tab and Rodak's tab alone."

I turn back to the two men and smile.

"Enjoy your evening" I say as I grab my drink from the bar with my left hand, but I do not immediately leave the area of the bar because I get the feeling there's going to be more to this situation.

*Michael James Watson

Methhead smiles a jagged toothed smile, "Mr. Scratches...thats a name he won't loose for awhile. He goes Blister but I think Mr. Scratches suits him. Ya, ok. No cat. Just as well. Not sure if he was an animagis anyway. Theres a guy in town who used to root around in trashcans that the change made a St. Bernard. I figure your cat must be one of them. How about the poodles? We got a Lightwieght class. I got a corgie if you feel lucky. All bets with the house, house takes half. Winner gets half the house cut. Loser gets a quarter of the house cut. Whatcha say?"

*Daniel Eric Van Campen Sr.

"Not interested. I'm not into fighting animals for sport."

The disdain in my voice is obvious. I take a swig off my brew.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have some drinking and relaxing to do. Evenin'."

I nod my head politely to the pair and return to my table.

*Michael James Watson

The evening goes on calmly enough. A couple of guys sit up on the bar and play guitar and harmonica. They seem to mostly do Dr Demento songs and the people in the bar sing along.

R figures there must be a back entrance to the dog pens as the crowd does not come through the bar but drinks are clearly being sent out.
But even through a haze of brews he notices people looking at him and slugger. The place has become more crowded and they look to have a meth-head look about them. Slugger seems completely absorbed by the songs and keeps trying to sing along.

As the evening crosses midnight a dwarf walks in the door. Bright orange red mohawk and beard. He carries a large tankard that looks able to hold a gallon. His other handholds a steel warhammer with crude engraving.

When he walks in the attention of the methhead group turns to see him and start talking.. They then fade out to the dog fights.

The dwarf walks up to Raph and says, "I'm Wreaker. Rodak told me it would be cheaper for him if I came over he and drank on your dime rather then stay at the station and drink on his. So...You gonna buy me a couple mugs of the yellow before I walk you back to Woodies?"

*Daniel Eric Van Campen Sr.

I grew up listening to the Dr. Demento show on the radio as a kid, so of course I sing along with every tune. And the more brews I get in me, the louder I sing. At one point during the night, when I go for a refill, they play a tune I know how to play on the harmonica, so I pull out my granddad's traveling harmonica that he carried all throughout WWII, and I stand at the bar and play along with them.

And though I do enjoy myself, being around people again, drinking a few brews in public, listening to live music... once I start to get a bit drunk I get to thinking about my best friend who is no longer with me and I get a bit sad. Now the loss of my parents was a sad time, but they had lived a good long life and were nearing the grave even before the Pandemic. But the loss of my best friend was very painful and under the influence of alcohol that pain comes back. I shed a few tears for her and wish she could be with me. I silently toast to her memory then wipe the tears from my eyes.

As the night rolls on and the Methhead crowd starts getting bigger, I do notice them looking in my direction, but I don't stare at them, however I do watch them out of the corner of my eye to make sure they're not going to cause me any trouble. Just about the time I'm thinking Slugger and I should head back to the RV and get some sleep, the dwarf with the big war hammer and bigger tankard walks in.

“Wrecker, it's a pleasure to meet you. And of course I'll buy you a couple of yellows; after all, you did walk all the way over here to make sure Slugger and I get back to Woody's safely... it's the least I can do. Wow... niiiice war hammer! Go filler up then grab a seat.”

*Michael James Watson

"How about I grab one for walking?"

He goes and fills his tankard, flipping a tip with a sippy straw over the top.

"Thanks. " He sips, looking around, "Funny thing about the hammer. It was an aluminum brick i kept in my truck to jack the wheels. Im not sure why but a few days after the CHange, when were were trapped here, i drilled out the hole in the center, Wedged a sledgehammer's hickory handle through it. Sucker swings like a feather and hits like a an avalanche. I feel like i was born to hit people with it. "

He hands it over for R to feel the heft.

(I knew someone who put a hickory handle on an aluminum block. Total pandybat but i bet it hit like a maul)

*Daniel Eric Van Campen Sr.

I agree to the drink for the road and gather up the Poodle Boys, all on leash now, Curious and Slugger. If necessary I will carry Slugger if she is passed out or sleeping.

I take the war hammer from Wrecker, knowing it is going to be heavy. I test the weightiness of it and feasibility of using it in combat.
"Got a war hammer of my own, back at Woody's; I'll show you when we get there... but it's a different design and nowhere near as weighty."

*Michael James Watson

He chats amicably as you walk back toward Woodies. crossing the street there is a crew of the methheads hanging in the street. Its hard to say if they were in the bar.

"That crowd is usually out on Miranda and 8th. They got a cook house and a camp. Shits come down from Alamosa. Run out of town there. Been here a month. Going to have to go talk to them soon. They are a bad element.. "

Getting to Woodies, nodding the the camp guard he comes to your Rv.

"Rodak wanted me to tell you that flashing gold around can be dicey. On of the methies came to tell Rodak that the boys were thinking of jumping you for your cat and your gold. Old Bruce is a gossip but he didn't put the mark on ya. Anyway, i said i had a proposition. Rodak has a deal with a depot up in Denver. We did a deal a few months back. We got to town with gas but it didn't last. 6 of us will be running two rigs up. 2 in each and 1 bike guard on each. Going up empty we won't make much of a target. If you want to ride along for road safety you would be welcome. We head out dusk in two days. Give it a thought."

*Daniel Eric Van Campen Sr.

Once we get to the RV, I send Slugger off to bed and the Poodle Boys to keep her company. I let Curious go where he wants to. I grab my customized backpack and pull the two hickory mattock handles from the special side pockets I had my Best Friend sew on for me. I also remove two standard heads, a mattock and double pick, them two custom made forged metal heads that fit the handles; a war hammer with a small squared head on one side and a slightly downward curved three-sided spike on the other, and the final head, a single bladed bearded axe blade. I slide the war hammer head onto one of the hickory handles and secure it in place by stepping on the head and pulling the handle upwards, then I hand it to Wrecker.

“Something I had made at the Village Blacksmith. I'm not joking; the business name was 'Village Blacksmith'... it was on the edge of the ghetto where I lived... the guy would make anything out of metal, including weapons... for a price. And this was long before... everything changed that I had these two heads made for me.”

I put the axe head on the other handle and hand it to Wrecker as well.

“I did a lot of camping, most of my life, and I like to improve the area I'm staying in since I usually stay long term... at least a couple of weeks, and I am also a rock hound and amateur miner and caver, so the pick and mattock were something I already had... I also have an Army Surplus E-tool. Now, I have always preferred melee weapons to handguns for close range and point blank combat, so I had those made 'just in case society collapses'... little did I know. The hammer's got some heft, but not like yours, and the spike is excellent for peircing armor, helmets and even old car bodies... plus great for shattering car glass and even bullet-proof glass, with enough strength. The bearded axe is light and swift, and the longer blade is excellent for hooking on the tops of shields to pull them down for an attack over the top with the other hand... I hung out and trained with a group of SCA... umm, medieval re-enactment group and played a lot of table top role playing games...”

A slight pause as I realize I'm drunk and rambling and perhaps saying too much or something he may already be aware of, or any number of other dumb drunk thoughts...

“...you get the idea. So anyway... I'll think on your offer... pretty sure I'll be here for several days... might need someone trustworthy to watch Slugger while I'm gone.”

I pull the one bottle of Pappy van Winkle Reserve I have stashed in my pack and show it to Wrecker, making sure the can see the label; there is a smile on my face.

“Care to share? I haven't even broken the seal yet.”

*Michael James Watson

He looks at the axe with a smile.

"Very nice. Very nice indeed. I had something like it back in country. I did 6 years in the corp, mostly deployed, and 4 as a contractor, mostly driving frankenstiens out of Kandahar. Saw the shit. There are some great metal workers there. Hung out with some of the locals that did the hillbily work on the rigs. Messy. Used mine in a few fights that got too harry. Ran into some of those SCA folks at KAF. Good guys. A bit too deamy for the real world. "

He nods at the Pappy, makes a motion for 2 fingers.

"Been running with Rodak for 6 years. Met him in country doing the same stuff I was but he also did some engineering shit. Got drumed out and is sore about it. Kicked a REMF in the balls during a after action report. Anyays he always sends me to pick up wrecks or get wrecks out of our way. We used to make shit from the wrecks; BBQs, sheds, and shit."

Daniel Eric Van Campen Sr.

I listen to Wrecker's history with the military and history with Rodak while I look for two cups in the RV cupboards (sure there's something I can use), then break the seal and pour him two fingers and myself the same. I present both cups and let him chose, as opposed to offering one over another.

"I did a 4 year hitch in the Army, all state-side if you can believe it. Got stuck with a Combat Engineering Unit that didn't actually need a Mechanic, so I ended up getting full qualifying OJT for Field Medic and NBC Specialist... I also spent some time in the Armory with the Chief Armorer and some Heavy Weapons and later with their Explosives Expert... fun stuff explosives. Then I got transferred to an Artillery Unit, M109's, that needed a mechanic, but somehow didn't need one when I got there, so I was OJT'd again, this time for Scouting and Advanced Party Procedures. Anyway, that was a long time ago... still got the skills, just haven't been used in awhile."

After Wrecker choses a cup, I raise the other in a toast.

"Here's to the Skills the Military taught us and the things we learned from it."

*Michael James Watson

"I don't worry the Change, but Rodak and our Elf Filthy do. They say we all got a place and those without places didn't make the change. But who knows, they go on an on."

Finishing his drink he rises.

"I haven't had Pappy in years. Thanks. Don't go flashing that bottle around neither. See yaa on the bright side."

*Daniel Eric Van Campen Sr.

"I'll be careful about what I 'flash' around here from now on; guess I didn't realize the value of what I have. Thank you Wrecker. Nite."

After Wrecker exits the RV, I close and lock the door, then I check on Slugger and the Poodle Boys on the bed in the back. Returning to the sitting area I open the vent in the ceiling/roof then the window behind the seating area around the table, then I pour myself another couple of fingers of Pappy and put the bottle away in my pack. I pull out my leather bound journal from my pack and set it on the table before me. Finally, I roll up a fat but tight joint and light it with the light blue Bic lighter from the pocket with the ciggs.

As I smoke and sip and muse about the day, I pickup the Sakura Prima Micron 05 archival ink pen I grabbed from my Best Friend's supply to go with the journal, before leaving the apartment... only just this morning... it seems so long ago already. I begin writing.

At one point I go to take a puff but the joint has gone out and when I try to light it with the light blue Bic, it only sparks but no fire. Damn. I knew it was mostly empty when I left home, as were most of the lighters I had collected. I really didn't want to get up from the table to go get another lighter out of my pack. So, just like I used to do during gaming sessions with My Friends back in the day, I try to light the joint with a Firefinger Cantrip. Yeah, Yeah, I know Magic isn't real... or doesn't work here on Earth... or at least not on the Earth I was from... but I would always try it anyway, just for fun, and I would always say 'I'm gonna keep tryin' cause maybe one day it'll work.'... and perhaps here it might work. Who knows. If not, there's always another nearly empty Bic in my backpack.

*Michael James Watson

When he flicks his finger he feels a sharp. mild electric shock and he sees a little electric arc about a 1/4" long. It wiggles on the finger tip expectantly. He feels a little rush of warmth on his forehead.

In surprise he looks around the room. Seeing Slugger's forehead he sees the dark red Mesob symbol on her forehead. The dogs are cuddled around her protectively. He looks at Curios, who leans over and licks the symbol on Slugger's head. He flips over to groom his cathood.

Shocked at the magic working he feels a light sense as if he was steaming, a light cooling feel. He looks at his hand and sees the Medallion symbol on his palm and notices his hands are clean. Taking a whiff, after the day he has had, he does not detect any body odor.

Running a hand through his hair he notices it is clean as well.

*Daniel Eric Van Campen Sr.

My eyes wide. I marvel at how not horrible I smell... how clean my hair is... My mouth is opening and closing but no sound is coming out... but my inner voice is screaming:

~NO FUCKING WAY!?!?!?!!!~ ~That was AWESOME!!!! THIS IS AWESOME!!!~ ~I can't believe that really worked!?????~ ~It. Really. Worked!!! Do it again, but this time actually light the joint.~

I focus again and light the joint with the Cantrip, inhaling deeply.... then I ponder on what I just did, what I just saw on Slugger's forehead and on my palm... there is a connection, certainly... the Medallion... I exhale smoke... yes; the Medallion.

I was going to wait until morning to do some research on my laptop, but now, I just couldn't wait. I put the cap back on the pen and place the pen back in the journal's special pen pocket, then close the journal. I get up and get my laptop from the padded pocket inside the main pocket of my backpack... and another two Bic lighters, one for each breast pocket.

I sit backdown, power up then sign in to my laptop computer, then go straight to a file on the desktop labeled 'Gaming Wiki Files'. This is not an internet shortcut but a local one; I downloaded all of my ADRPG GM's wiki pages pertaining to his ongoing ADRPG Campaign to my laptop... for when I was camping and out of cellular range but still needed info for writing posts to be sent later.

I begin with a search query: foot shaped medallion. Somehow I know... or maybe just feel, that I know what is going on and what that foot shaped medallion was.

If those three words don't bring up anything, I will begin searching the images in the wiki files for the design on my hand and Slugger's forehead.

*Michael James Watson

Immediatly he finds the following:

https://wiki.rpg.net/index.php/Grog_and_Mikon

https://wiki.rpg.net/index.php/Medalion_of_Mesob

https://wiki.rpg.net/index.php/Guiness

*Daniel Eric Van Campen Sr.

I hit the joint again and click on the first link, reading...

...the first two links (alphabetically) only make hints, but the last link tells all, to my amazement.

As I read with my mouth hanging wide open, a part of my mind wants to disbelieve, while the other part of my mind wants to silence 'the disbeliever'. My Best Friend once said: 'A person that can see the strange and amazing and accept it for what it appears to be, without trying to disbelieve it or explain it away, will usually make better decisions in an emergency situation and has a better chance of surviving.'

So I shut up the disbelief and see this for what it appears to be: I have found a Medallion of Mesob, and its powers are becoming accessible to me... it's powers are most certainly what saved me from the Omega Variant and what brought me and Slugger here to 'Shadow Run World'... or maybe it was Slugger that inadvertently brought us here, as it appears that she has found one too, based on the Magic Tattoo on her forehead.

So, after rereading the Medalion of Mesob page several times, it would seem that I have the following Powers; Clean Body, an Immunity to Sickness, Shadow Walking... most likely and Improved 'Statistics'... yeah, that might explain the odd feeling of strength in my hands I felt earlier in the evening, and the fact that I am not 'wasted drunk' considering how much I drank. And most likely a form of Immortality... as well as a possibility of other powers... maybe that's why I can do Cantrips. Well, I'm going to have to do some experiments to see what all I can do.

~OH MY GOD THIS IS AWESOME!!!!~ I scream in my head. Then I take a deep calming breath and let it out... then take a deep hit off the joint, then shoot down the last of the Pappy in my cup, then exhale hard and try not to freak out / geek out over everything that has happened today and all I have just learned.

I try another Cantrip, just to see if I can. I try a Clean Cantrip on my Army Field Jacket, where Curious got blood on it from his fight in the pit. I focus for a moment, then make a back and forth wiping motion with my hand in the air over the blood stain.

*Michael James Watson

Momentarily he feels tiny push and swaths of the jacket appear clean. Without think, distractedly, he points at a buzzing fly and watches it fall dead. Zap.

*Daniel Eric Van Campen Sr.

I get giddy with excitement over the Cantrips... especially 'zapping' the fly, almost to the point of squealing. But instead of geeking out and waking Slugger, I relight the joint with a Firefinger and take a deep hit, grin from ear to ear, then contemplate the possibilities of my future, just knowing what I do right now... can't wait to find out more. Exhaling smoke, I wonder; how much of what I played in that game is real? How much is fiction? Or will it all be Shades of the Truth, Shadows of Reality?

In the morning I will surely need to do some more experiments to see what else I can do... and what my new capabilities are; just like I would do if I were a character in a game trying to figure out the powers of a new magic item... which, oddly enough, is EXACTLY what I am trying to actually do.

~GOD this is WEEEEEIIIRRRD... and COOOL as FUUUUCCKK!!!~

I finish the joint then pull the bottle of Pappy from my pack, pour one more drink, three fingers this time, then put the bottle away. I pull out a cigarette from the pack in my right breast pocket in my field jacket, now sitting on the cushion next to me. I use a Firefinger to light the cig, then I smoke and drink, timing both so I have a swig of Pappy left after I finish the smoke.

Then I roll up my Field Jacket to use as a pillow then I lean over to one side of the long cusioned seating area around the table, then pull up my knees and feet to the other side and try to get some sleep. Weapons belts and weapons are on the table in easy reach.