I Am A Table [LitRPG Isekai Progression Fantasy]

The party was kind enough to be offered an extra room, given that this was a tavern and not an inn with rooms to spare, but the fact that they were offered one room only meant Blorbo stayed outside.

And he stayed outside alone, taking in the smell of the woodsmoke that got pretty annoying after a while, until nearly dawn, when a familiar figure emerged from the back room.

Griesa yawned as she walked out, a jaw-cracking, full-throated affair that seemed to stretch her whole face.

She was already in full gear. Her long, dark coat, made of some sturdy, oil-stained material, was festooned with an absurd collection of timepieces. Pocket watches on tarnished brass chains dangled from buttonholes, small clock faces were embedded directly into the reinforced shoulder pads, and tiny, intricate clockwork mechanisms with exposed gears ticked softly near the cuffs. The collective, quiet ticking formed a low, asynchronous purr around her olive-colored skin. It was entirely plausible that she hadn't taken any of it off. At this point, Blorbo was also very unsure whether she was darker-skinned since birth, since her father looked distinctly fair-skinned, or if she just let all the oil grease from her contraptions seep under her skin and never bothered to wash them off. She didn't smell bad or anything, though. Just smelled like oil.

She had changed hats, however. This one was another tall, stiff-brimmed affair, crafted from overlapping plates of dark leather and riveted brass. A pair of large, multi-lensed goggles were pushed up onto the front, coated in a fine layer of dust. It STILL had a door at the front, and the same rat that Blorbo'd forgotten the name of still poked its head out of it.

It was evident from the dark circles around Griesa's eyes that she did NOT go to sleep early. It was also more evident from the fact that in her hand was yet another bizarre contraption that Blorbo was certain hadn't existed before today.

It looked like a collaboration between a deranged watchmaker and an aspiring dentist. The core was a brass sphere about the size of a large apple, intricately etched and featuring several glass portholes. Within those holes was a confusing maze of whirring gears and tightly wound springs. Protruding from this sphere at awkward angles were no fewer than five articulated arms made of thin, skeletal copper tubing, each ending in a different, miniature tool: a whisk, a bellows, a feather-clamp, a mirrored dish, and a spring-loaded mallet. Vacuum tubes glowed yellow atop it next to a wind-up key, and the whole thing ticked.

What is that thing ever going to be used for anything?

"I need somewhere to place this that won't have dad yelling at me," she talked to herself. She had a good look around, and of course, the only sensible option was Blorbo. She happily skipped over.

Don't put that thing on me! It's going to do irreparable damage to me!

Before Blorbo could properly protest or even formulate a question, she carefully, deliberately, set the ticking brass sphere down on his surface.

"Oh yes," Griesa grinned.

Oh no.

The effect was immediate and profoundly weird. The tiny whisk began vibrating rapidly against the wood grain, and bellows puffed out rhythmic little clouds of air that smelled of the same kind of oil that lingered on Griesa. It deposited a micro-thin, slick film over a small patch of his surface. The feather duster swished back and forth with surprising speed, clearing away infinitesimal specks of dust Blorbo hadn't even known were there, while the mallet arm began tapping a gentle, complex rhythm onto the brass sphere.

Ohhhh. Actually, that feels kinda good.

Blorbo felt... different. Sturdier. The slight wobble in his back left leg felt inexplicably lessened. A few minor dings and scratches near where the device had rested seemed... shallower somehow. There was an odd sense of internal reinforcement, like his fibers had been subtly re-aligned and strengthened.

[+1 Max HP!]

What? All that satisfaction for just ONE HP? You might as well not give me any at all. Now my health total is not divisible by 10. It's not divisible by ANYTHING!

Also, wait. Griesa's given me an upgrade, hasn't she? Why haven't I completed the upgrade quest?

Blorbo checked the quest again.

[QUEST: The Greatest Enhancement (1)]

Objective: Have one part be upgraded by the great inventor.

Ah. It says one PART. Cleaning my surface probably doesn't count. At least the system is being consistent for once, but it just has to be when it works against me.

*Author's note: Maybe it's because you haven't ACCEPTED the quest yet, Blorbo.

Griesa peered closely at the spot where the machine had rested, then nodded with satisfaction, seemingly pleased with the result of her impromptu experiment. But then she immediately frowned. "Why did the table they bring along look so normal?"

What else is a table supposed to look like? What they should NOT look like is definitely having flapping mechanical arms like the rest of the furniture here.

"Surely they won't complain if I add a few touches to this ugly thing."

That would surely complete Blorbo's quest.

They'll probably complain, but I won't—Hey! What did you just call me?

But then he sensed a disturbance in the air. The sun hadn't even risen yet, but a patron had already shown up. The tavern owner had gone outside some time earlier, probably to get himself some groceries, and he'd left the door unlocked.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"Is Rob here?" Marin asked as he walked in, his voice calm and steady. He glanced around. "Their table's still here."

Griesa immediately perked up.

So much for 'a few touches', I guess.

It seemed like the first thing Marin did after returning from his escorting mission was to find Rob, or to get to this particular tavern for a pint of ale. He had probably gotten tired of hanging out with his other knight friends, who, from Blorbo's observation, had the collective intelligence of a boar. One that'd been hit in the head by a hammer, not a normal, functioning boar.

[QUEST RECEIVED: Welcome our Guest]

Objective: Make sure Marin stays in the tavern until Rob wakes up.

Reward: +80 EXP, +2 AGI, +1 PER

Prerequisite: Have a Marin in the tavern (You can accept this quest).

Failure: Marin will not be in the tavern.

Accept: YES/NO

What? Why would Marin leave? He came here specifically to find Rob. It would take an amazing amount of filibuster and wacky annoyance for him to consider leaving.

Blorbo accepted the quest anyway.

Griesa practically vibrated the moment she saw Marin. She hastily shoved the multi-armed contraption into a large pouch on her coat, the faint ticking momentarily muffled. "H-he hasn't woken up yet!" she stammered, her voice suddenly an octave higher than usual. "But I-I'm here! I mean, we're here. The table is here. Obviously. You saw it. So am I! Present!"

Yes… Of course.

She took a step towards Marin, then immediately sidestepped as if dodging an invisible obstacle, nearly tripping over her own feet. The clocks on her coat seemed to tick louder, faster. "Come in, come in!" she urged, gesturing wildly towards the tavern's mostly empty common room. "Find a seat! Is this seat alright?" She hurried towards the nearest table and began vigorously wiping its surface with her gloved hand, succeeding only in smearing some existing grime around. "Or perhaps this one? The lighting is suboptimal here, a clear deficiency in ambient lumen distribution, but the structural integrity of the bench seems marginally superior, assuming the joinery holds under standard gravitational stress which, given the wood type, is statistically probable but not guaranteed!" The rat in her hat chose that moment to poke its head out fully, whiskers twitching frantically. Blorbo still had no idea what the rat was for.

Stop… This hurts to watch.

"Okay..." Marin said. "I'll come back at another time, then."

Griesa froze for a fraction of a second, her eyes widening behind her dusty goggles. "Wait!" she yelped, taking an involuntary step forward, her hands fluttering in front of her as if to physically block his exit. "No! Don't go! We have... new things! On the menu!"

Marin paused, one eyebrow slightly raised.

"Yes! New!" Griesa forged ahead. "We've got the... uh... the 'Voltaic Lager'! Highly recommended! Very... energizing! And the, um, 'Cogsworth Cordial'! It's... fortified! With... minerals! And the…" she glanced wildly around the room, her eyes landing the gear she had dropped earlier, "...the 'Iron Rivet Stout'! Extra ferrous!"

None of those were real drinks.

It's bad enough you fumble your chances or ever courting your dream man, but I won't let you fumble my quest!