Isecant - Party based LitRPG-lite / Progression adventure

The pink liquid sprayed down from the roof with a schlurp to the ground floor, covering the citizens and sentients. Dille and his strange companion watched as the people began to change in their personalities.

Some seemed to fall to the floor and sob with their hands in the air. Others appeared to exhibit extreme traits of anger. Amongst the shouting, Dillee was able to pick up some things that were being said.

"Why did she leave me?!"

"Shut up, you bitch. Thwack."

"Come back, Rochelle!"

Dillee looked to the person next to him. Wow, he thought. What an intriguing weapon they use. I wonder what Sir will think of that. I can picture our group using that in novel ways.

Unfortunately for Dillee, Small Sarge attacked the pair in retaliation. With a mighty BOOM, a hole appeared straight through the building to the other side. The screams were even louder now, and Dillee was beginning to quickly realise he needed to escape before things got worse.

The rambling lunatic who had joined him was shouting things like, "Go away, floating numbers!"

In Dillee's mind, he was thinking, Keep things going, buddy. And that was precisely what he was going to do.

Dillee offered a hand to the requestee. They took one look at the hand and responded, "Broom, broom, go. Rocket, go!"

"RUFF RUFFAROO!" [I am a scholarly fellow. You cabbage brain.]

He grabbed hold of them once again and leapt away with a mighty jump that shattered several windows. Crash and crunch could be heard from high above.

Sarge was determined not to let this go. "Get back here, you little punk. I'm not done with you just yet!"

He quickly realised that being up high was no longer working and he needed to begin reaching ground level. His confidence convinced him he had enough strength and durability to smash through any sentient barriers that might be in place, but he also knew that would leave him vulnerable to any high-rankers.

From my understanding of the Guild rules, unofficial rules of course, sentients will always try to minimise casualties in circumstances such as this. I may be able to escape through the confusion if I can generate enough madness in one area and hide the rest of the way within the Entram services.

Dillee's idea was daring, but what did he have to lose?

He started heading toward the lines, but he didn't drop the train that suddenly. As he darted across the rooftops, he specifically targeted buildings that had things such as air conditioning units or other large objects he might be able to grab along the way.

Two things managed to catch his attention: a randomly discarded refrigerator and a barrel.

Well, I think I'll take the refrigerator. Somehow, I don't think that's harbouring any explosives in it?

He loomed over the edge of the rooftop and spotted that two Entrams were coming from opposite directions.

You can do this, old boy.

He paused for a moment before launching the refrigerator toward the Entram going northward. Dillee overestimated his strength. The speed and force at which he threw the refrigerator caused it to hit the ground so hard it caved straight through. The sound was probably audible from across the entire city, causing mass panic as the Entram began to fall through the floor.

"HYOARRR!" It yelled in pain.

Oh boy. I hope nobody saw me throw that…

If Dillee had paid attention to his surroundings, he would have noticed Small Sarge had seen him do exactly that.

"Private, it seems we've got a problem. This thing is a lot smarter than it looks. Look, it just threw that projectile tactically."

The private nodded in agreement.

"Sir, I think you may be right. I have informed the mayor's office. The threat level has been increased to amber."

"Fantastic. That means we have the authority to use lethal force."

Dillee's small window of opportunity to carry out his plan was getting smaller. Quickly, he took advantage of the moment of madness, diving down into a side alley and transforming into his regular self inside a trash can. A quick change into the recently purchased Arachne costume, and then he covered the requestee in trash. They continued to smile as he smothered them in foul-smelling bin items.

"I'm so sorry. This is a necessity." Not really, though, you blithering lout.

Grabbing their hand, he headed for the Entram that was on their side of the road. While it wasn't travelling eastward directly, it would get them close enough to make a quick detour through some side alleys and onwards to Lexi's Blackmoon.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

If you're wondering how Dillee knows about Lexi's Blackmoon, he read about it in a magazine. It caught his attention one day whilst travelling to find MC for the first time. It was there he learnt it is famous for being one of three established legal duelling venues and the only venue legally allowed to sell alcohol on the premises. Now that that's out of the way...

The pair got off at Lloyds Stop. Dillee had a good memory of the city's geography.

Right, we need to head northeast from here.

He held on tight to the requestee, and they walked together like some demented homeless mother and her bizarre, fancy-dress-wearing child.

After travelling for several minutes, it wasn't long before they came to the street the destination resided on. Besides, it was impossible to miss such a vibrantly fluorescent sign that clearly stated 'Lexi's Blackmoon' in neon green.

"Finally, we found it," he breathed a sigh of relief.

His companion said, "Buy me something, liquid or not. Goodnight!"

Meanwhile, in the sewers...

"Oh god, MC. How LONG HAVE WE been doing this for?" piped Horace, annoyed that his feet were hurting

"You know what, bud? I'm not sure…"

MC and Horace had been wandering through the sewers, unaware that several hours had already passed. It was lucky for them that the technology advancements meant the area didn't smell at all.

"Isn't it strange… There's not a single sign that hasn't been torn apart down here?"

Horace just shrugged in response.

"Don't kids come down here sometimes? Maybe they did it?"

The pair had recently passed a sign that looked as if it had been clawed apart.

"I don't think so, bud. With how deep these marks are… These look more like weapon claw marks. I think whoever did the carving had some reasonably decent skill in martial arts. He better stay away from my gloves, or I'll kick his arse!"

"We're going to be alright, MC, don't worry. I think if we follow the PATH AND HUG THE left wall, it may take us to THE NORTHERN wall's entrance."

"I'm fine with that. If it won't end with us getting arrested by those bloody guards. I cannot be fucked with that nonsense right now." In the distance, they began to hear squeaks. Familiar ones at that. The same sounds of Roti being killed.

'SQEEEEEeee'

What the fuck? MC thought

"Did you hear that, bud? It sounded like Roti dying."

"Yup. THAT DIDN'T sound good."

"Let's get the fuck out of here~."

Horace took the lead as they traversed through the sewers. Along the way, they encountered homeless people. Sometimes alone, sometimes in groups of varying sizes. Never more than ten, however.

"Gasp. Sure, there are a lot of homeless down here. I don't remember Eccles Ville ever having this problem before."

MC's fragile, non-sentient lungs were starting to fall behind his counterpart's ever-improving physique.

We're not leaving this city until I get some damn upgrades, he thought, beginning to grow a little envious of Horace, who seemed entirely unbothered by the extended periods of running.

They had been running consistently for ten minutes, and not a single homeless person had given them any grief or tried to beg for money. Unknown to the pair, they had passed through Beggars Square. As it's known on the surface, it is the most frequented spot the homeless come out to during the daytime.

There is one homeless man who rules Beggars Square. He is notorious for being physically aggressive. Nobody knows his real name because nobody gives a shit. He is simply known as Big Stank.

And the pair was about to encounter him.

They had gone the complete wrong direction and had, in fact, been heading toward the southern walled entrance this entire time.

"Oh, you two. What makes you think you could come around here so easily?" Came a surprisingly high-pitched voice from within the darkness.

"Hey, who inhaled all the helium?" MC joked, chuckling to himself.

"You're in the wrong part of the city, boy. You better hand over exactly 1 HFC, or you're going to pay the price." The voice spoke again. This time, several homeless men and women emerged from side entrances, from the ceiling, and from the shallow streams of water running through the sewer.

The pair looked around. While they were outnumbered, they were not afraid in the slightest. All the people surrounding them wore incredibly broken and worthless gear.

Horace spoke up, "Hey. YOU JUST WANT A SINGLE HFC?"

The homeless crowd gasped in shock.

One of the women replied, "Why do you sound like that? You sound crazier than some of us."

MC let out a sigh. "Don't try to mix non-lethal weaponry together. It does not go down well. This is what happens."

Big Stank wasn't interested in hearing any backstory. He had one thing on his mind. "I don't care about that story. Just give me my money, and maybe I'll let you pass."

"Fuck off. You don't get to tell me what to do. Bud, soap is so cheap these days. Perhaps you should buy a bar. I can't see you, but I can fucking SMELL you!"

"PEEEEEEEEEEE-YOU. That's a NOSE tingler," piped Horace.

The pair's insults struck a nerve. Big Stank wasn't putting up with any more of it. "If you want to keep staying in my halls, get them now!"

A great fight erupted in the sewers of the southern district. Surface dwellers would give zero fucks about it, but the under-citizens of Beggars Square would tell tales of it for years to come.

The Battle of a Thousand Homeless.

MC and Horace unleashed a ruthless onslaught. Many limbs were crunched and bones shattered by MC's war club strikes. The homeless wore gear that had long since lost any stat benefits and had become mere garments for warmth or comfort.

The sewers echoed with chaos as the wham-slap fighting disrupted what remained of their dignity. The bodily stench and parasitic afflictions were so intense they burnt MC's eyes and nose and caused Horace so much stress he unleashed every ability he had to blast his way through to the leader.

Horace wasn't a mass murderer. He simply switched to using concussive munitions and let nature take its course, hoping none would die in the sewers.

"Grr, you bastards. You're taking out so many of my lot. How will we make any coin with all these out of action?"

"Don't worry. We're going to put you out of business and liberate the poor sods shortly."

"Tsk. By the time you get through the next hundred, I'll be long gone to one of the other four districts. I'm not saying which, though."

"Good luck hiding from my boy here with a Seeker gift."

"NYAAAA, piss off, smarty!"

Big Stank had run away for now. Unfortunately, he had chosen to head toward the eastern district, where our other pair was currently walking toward the sewer entrance he was about to pop out from.

Bastards. I'll have to get new recruits down here now. Lexi's Blackmoon is just abouttttt here...

Big Stank climbed the ladder, opened the hatch, and emerged to find Dillee and the requestee looking right at him.

"Spare some HFC, kind citizens?"

"Foul-smelling one. Have you seen a Terrahuum and a Dornam/Huudhan mixed lad down there?"

"Oh, but of course. If you spare me a coin, I can tell you all I know."

"It's an alligator. Crunchy!" shouted the requestee. They unsheathed the syringe and sprayed what was left at Big Stank.

"Ugh, gross. What the fuck is that? It's all sticky and... OH GOD, I MISS YOU, JIMBO. Come back, my love!"

Dillee pushed the syringe back into the holder on the person's back and shook his head.

"You bloody idiot. I could have obtained some information there…"

Dr A carried on smiling manically, following the leafy legend into the venue.