At Large Read online

  SMALL MEDIUM: AT LARGE

  By Andrew Seiple

  Cover by Amelia Parris

  Edited by Beth Lyons

  Text copyright © Andrew Seiple 2019

  All Rights Reserved

  With thanks to my online friends, who have rekindled within me a new love for gaming

  Table of Contents

  PROLOGUE 5

  CHAPTER 1: CHASE PURSUED 7

  CHAPTER 2: WOLVES? WHERE? 16

  CHAPTER 3: A HIVE OF SCUM AND VILLAINY 23

  CHAPTER 4: A MAN OF WEALTH AND TASTE 31

  CHAPTER 5: A PARTING OF THE WAYS 40

  CHAPTER 6: OLD FACES AND NEW PLACES 48

  CHAPTER 7: A POUND OF FLESH 57

  CHAPTER 8: MAGIC BY ANY OTHER NAME 63

  CHAPTER 9: LEGACY OF THE WIZAARD 72

  CHAPTER 10: AWKWARDNESS, ARMOR, AND AMBLING 80

  CHAPTER 11: HOUSE ODDS AND EVENS 87

  CHAPTER 12: HIGH STAKES GAMBLER 93

  CHAPTER 13: WHEN YOUR LUCK RUNS OUT 100

  CHAPTER 14: SCRYING TIME 108

  CHAPTER 15: BLOOD AND CANNOLIS 117

  CHAPTER 16: A DUEL OF WORDS 124

  CHAPTER 17: THE TOWER 132

  CHAPTER 18: CSI ARRETZI 142

  CHAPTER 19: PARTY PLANNER 149

  CHAPTER 20: A STUDY IN VERDE 156

  CHAPTER 21: BAD LADY, GOOD DOGE 167

  CHAPTER 22: GREEN AND WHITE AND RED ALL OVER 174

  CHAPTER 23: NO PLAN SURVIVES FUR’S CONTACT 180

  CHAPTER 24: CONFESSIONS OF A RINGMASTER 193

  CHAPTER 25: MY NAME IS ERROR 201

  CHAPTER 26: PWNED 212

  EPILOGUE 216

  APPENDIX I: CHASE’S JOBS AND SKILLS 219

  AUTHOR’S NOTE 228

  PROLOGUE

  Once upon a time there was a halven.

  Against the customs of her kind and the pull of her own genetics, she desired adventure. And she got her wish.

  She also broke the law repeatedly, lied to some very powerful people, and fled town to escape the consequences.

  But the thing about adventure, as she would learn, is that you don’t get to have the fun parts without a few bad parts, too…

  Name: Chase Berrymore

  Age: 15 Years

  Jobs:

  Halven level 9, Cook level 4, Archer level 5, Grifter level 6, Oracle level 8, Teacher Level 1

  Attributes Pools Defenses

  Strength: 55 Constitution: 32 Hit Points: 87 Armor: 0

  Intelligence: 53 Wisdom: 87 Sanity: 140 Mental Fortitude:30

  Dexterity: 94 Agility: 57 Stamina: 151 Endurance: 0

  Charisma: 117 Willpower: 43 Moxie: 160 Cool: 36

  Perception: 62 Luck: 116 Fortune: 178 Fate: 32

  Generic Skills

  Archery – Level 1

  Brawling – Level 7

  Climb – Level 15

  Dagger – Level 2

  Dodge – Level 12

  Fishing – Level 14

  Ride – Level 10

  Stealth – Level 14

  Swim – Level 7

  Throwing – Level 24

  Halven Skills

  Fate’s Friend – Level N/A

  Small in a Good Way – Level N/A

  Cook Skills

  Cooking - Level 14

  Freshen - Level 10

  Archer Skills

  Aim – Level 2

  Demoralizing Shot – Level 1

  Far Shot – Level 1

  Missile Mastery – Level N/A

  Quickdraw – Level N/A

  Rapid Fire – Level N/A

  Razor Arrow – Level 1

  Ricochet Shot – Level 2

  Grifter Skills

  Fool’s Gold – Level 1

  Forgery – Level 1

  Master of Disguise – Level 3

  Pickpocket – Level 1

  Silent Activation – Level 6

  Silver Tongue – Level 3

  Size Up – Level 1

  Unflappable – Level N/A

  Oracle Skills

  Absorb Condition – Level N/A

  Afflict Self – Level 1

  Diagnose – Level N/A

  Divine Pawn – Level N/A

  Foresight – Level 21

  Lesser Healing – Level 29

  Omens and Portents – Level N/A

  Transfer Condition – Level 3

  Teacher Skills

  Lecture – Level 2

  Smarty Pants – Level N/A

  Unlocked Jobs

  Farmer, Herbalist

  CHAPTER 1: CHASE PURSUED

  Chase was running for all she was worth, when she heard the sound of her doom approaching.

  Branches cracked and crackled behind her, and she didn’t look back. She knew what she would see, and any seconds a backward glance would cost would be seconds she couldn’t replace. Instead, Chase kept her precious burden close to her chest and forced her legs to go faster, eyes straining to pick out obstacles in the path ahead.

  Though ‘path’ was beyond generous, here. She was fleeing through the deep woods now, places that had long been without people to keep the trees restrained. The game trails that wound between them were barely wide enough for her.

  Her pursuers didn’t have that problem. They didn’t use the trails, and the wide branches overhead were strong enough to support their swarming forms.

  They were small, smaller even than Chase, but they were legion. And they were hungry.

  Furthermore they had very, very sharp teeth, so Chase ran. Which wasn’t at all what she was made to do because Chase was a halven.

  Halvens are small, pudgy, and have a disposition that rewards sedentary pursuits. They usually dwell in farming communities, eat prodigiously, and avoid things like adventure and life-and-death struggles at all costs.

  Which made Chase all the more freakish, because she had too many dreams, and not enough chances of fulfilling them in her home. She’d left her home a shambles, skipped town with a known liar and rascal, and broken the law four times over in order to accomplish all of this. She hadn’t even told her mother goodbye!

  Mind you, there had been extenuating circumstances…

  A flash of red, a ribbon tied to a tree, and Chase swerved toward it, taking the left-hand fork in the path.

  She almost missed seeing the cord stretched between the trees but caught it in time to execute a quick hop.

  PER+1

  She was mildly surprised that she had gained perception, instead of agility. But as her eyes and hearing sharpened, just a bit, she wasn’t too upset at the help. More perception meant less chance of falling to the traps.

  And she HAD gained a point of agility just yesterday. The rules which governed reality in general seemed to dictate that it took more work to increase your attributes, the further up you got.

  But now was not the time for that. Chase hugged her burden tighter, feeling the comforting warmth, as she charged through fallen leaves, sending them upward in a spray.

  They were gaining on her, now. The rustling was coming from either side, not just behind her. Right on her heels, pushing themselves to leap down upon the tasty meal that awaited, ready to swarm down in a fury of teeth and claws…

  Then another tripwire loomed out between a pair of bushes, and she was moving too quickly to dodge it—

  But her feet went right through it and she stumbled in surprise, but recovered. Illusion, Chase knew. I won’t get that lucky twice.

  Some of the traps were illusions. Some weren’t.

  Not that it mattered, since she jumped the rest of the triplines she saw. And as her legs ached and her breath burned in her chest from the last leap, she got a consolation prize for all her hard work.

  CON+1

  Some of her exhaustion eased and she
pushed herself harder… but it wasn’t working. Above her, her foes chattered, sharp and shrill. They smelled victory. They would not relent.

  And then, as Chase burst into a clearing, the way ahead split down two paths, both flagged with ribbons… and both blocked off by tarps strung between the trees. They looked identical. They moved identically in the cold breeze.

  One is an illusion, Chase knew, and hesitated, slowed for a second.

  Then a branch creaked right behind her, and she had no more time to hesitate. That one? She guessed and darted forward, put on a last burst of speed—

  —and ran headlong into the tightly-stretched tarp.

  Chase had a fleeting second to regret her choice as the tarp stretched out, then rebounded, hurtling her back…

  …and sending the pie in her arms straight to the ground, splattering fruit and crust in a wide arc.

  The exhausted halven closed her eyes as smushed strawberries rained down on her face. Her pointed ears furled in shame, as the horde behind her descended, and started to gorge their faces, arguing over the sweet treat.

  Then came wet raspy heat on her face, and a strong odor of unwashed fur, and Chase opened her eyes to glare at the monkeys who had gone for the lower-hanging fruit, so to speak, and were licking her face clean. “Shoo!” she said, waving a hand.

  They scattered, scolding her in incoherent babble, then surged in again to get the last few licks of strawberry from her hair. She sighed and let them, staring up at the sky.

  A sky that was soon obscured by a shadow, a silhouette of a man as he peered down at her, face friendly but unsympathetic. It was a sharp face, with angular cheekbones and a pointy goatee, but it was softened a bit by his handlebar mustaches. And his snazzy red and black top hat clung jauntily to his head, defying gravity as he bent over and offered her a hand up.

  “You were doing pretty well this time,” Thomasi Jacobi Venturi said, hauling Chase to her feet. “You made it to the finish line, at least.”

  Behind him the other tarp disappeared, and a plush fox toy walked out from behind the illusion. “No, she made it to the fake finish line,” he said. His name was Renny, and he was the second co-conspirator in the most black-hearted of operations; operation toughen up the halven.

  It was the third co-conspirator that Chase loathed the most, though. And that Co-conspirator was Chase Berrymore herself. She’d been mad, absolutely mad, to ask Thomasi for help, to make her more like the traditional heroes she’d read about in the adventure books of her youth. Those heroes weren’t pudgy, or weak, or fearful, or any of a number of things that Chase still was.

  To be fair, she hadn’t known the depths of torture they had planned for her, after she made her request.

  “Did you get any gains from this time around, at least?” Thomasi asked, before he began taking down the tarp, gloved fingers flying with easy dexterity as he undid the knots.

  Chase nodded, still trying to get her breath. “Perception. And… constitution,” she wheezed.

  “It must be nice to be able to get constitution from exercise,” Renny said, glass eyes glittering as he considered her.

  Chase glared back at him, brown eyes doing their best to commit ocular murder. But after a second, she relented. It wasn’t really his fault. Renny was a toy golem, a sentient being animated by pure magic, and toughened in ways toys were not meant to be toughened. Renny could walk for days on end if he had to, carry large burdens without trouble, and endure damage that would reduce Chase to chunky pesto sauce. He didn’t GET the idea of exercising hard, not really.

  Besides, Renny was too adorable. Chase just couldn’t stay angry at him for long. And he’d proven a hell of a friend, too. Thrown together by fate and caught up in an epic-but-scary adventure, they’d had to work together to survive. And at the end of it all, he had given up a chance to return home to keep her company and venture out into lands unknown.

  Well, unknown to him, anyway. “We’ll do a geography lesson tonight, I think,” Chase said as she gathered the remnants of her stamina. “After dinner.”

  “Works for me!” Thomasi said. “I’ve been wondering how the borders shifted during my prison time.”

  Renny didn’t say anything, but Chase noticed that his ears had perked up, and his tail was wagging slightly.

  “Right. After dinner,” Chase said, as her belly grumbled. Thomasi had insisted that she do this run on a mostly-empty stomach, and like a fool, she’d agreed. She cast one last look at the precious, shattered pie and the thoroughly out-of-season strawberries. They didn’t have many of those left. Certainly not enough for a new pie.

  “Come on, then. I’ve about got the fire going.” Thomasi said and tucked the rolled up tarp under one arm, leading the way back to camp. Chase fell in behind him, brushing dirt off her dress.

  “Clean and Press,” Renny intoned behind her, and the dirt shuddered away to nothing, as did the sweat she’d recently coated it with. Which would have been a lot better but for the fact that Chase was still sweating. Doesn’t matter, she thought to herself. In a bit under an hour he’ll have enough sanity back to do that again. I’ll just ask then.

  The campfire was indeed crackling merrily, once they emerged into the cleared spot in the trees. Thomasi’s wagon sat off to one side, tailgate open and displaying a loose array of junk. Its brightly colored sides billowed in the late fall wind, red and blue and gold, dancing in the breeze. Not far away, Dobbin the horse foraged in the grass for tasty morsels. He’d hauled the wagon and the trio of friends placidly and without complaint these long miles.

  “You didn’t get the pots and pans out?” Chase asked, surprised. “What were you doing?”

  “I didn’t know what was on the menu tonight,” Thomasi shrugged. “Cooking isn’t my thing.”

  Chase snorted. “Flour. Beans. Salt. Rice. Olive oil. The bottom of a jar of strawberries. A pinch of sugar. And some rabbit— thank you for that by the way, Renny. That list of ingredients should tell you we don’t have many options left. It’s not hard to figure out I’d only need a few tools, here.”

  “And like I’ve said many times before, I’m no cook. And you’re leaving out all the herbs I’ve been scrounging up, for my share of the work,” Thomasi looked sorrowful.

  Despite her hangry-ness, Chase felt herself nodding. “You have helped. Never said you didn’t.” So she resisted the urge to bang the pots and pans around when she was hauling the various implements out of the back of the wagon.

  “I hope you like arancini,” she said, arraying the ingredients carefully around the campfire, making sure the herbs were in neat little piles. Thomasi helped with that, at least.

  Then, once it was done, Chase started cooking.

  An outline appeared in her vision and started filling up with a golden bar. Ingredients flew and whirled, as she grabbed the various tools called for with each component.

  First came the flatbread. She had no yeast or anything else to make it rise, so it had to be flatbread. Which was fine, because she just needed it to be breadcrumbs. That was two cooking operations in of itself, and she lost a flatbread piece midway through, as the recipe failed. Gritting her teeth, the hungry halven tried again, and got it… along with a consolation prize.

  Your Cooking skill is now level 15!

  The rest of it was easier. The rice boiled with herbs, until it turned into herbal rice. Then the rabbit meat got separated out into tiny chunks and mixed with mushed beans. They were taking the place of eggs, but it seemed to work. Then all of it went together.

  The end result, by the sixth or seventh step, was a set of fist-sized fried rice balls garnished with pine nuts, fontina, and parsley and stuffed with rabbit meat and black bean paste. They smelled delicious, and Chase risked burning her mouth as she plucked one from the pan and started to bite into it—

  “Pickpocket,” Thomasi said, and it vanished from her fingers.

  Her teeth clacked together. She glared up at Thomasi, and considered taking a bite out of him, instead.<
br />
  “You wanted to be competent,” he said. “If I’d failed, you would have gained some perception.” He took a big bite out of the arancini, and rolled his eyes heavenward. “Mfff! Gloriouf.”

  “Right. Sure,” Chase sneered. “And the fact that you get to eat first is no factor at all in your decision, here.”

  “Mum whatfoevah,” Thomasi said, through a mouth full of fried rice.

  Chase ate, eyes watchful for more shenanigans, but Thomasi was content to share the rest of the repast with her. And it was a pretty decent meal, for all she was lacking a few key ingredients. That said… “We need more supplies. We’ll have to hit a town tomorrow. Fortunately, we’re not far from a good one.” She pointed through the trees, at the multiple plumes of smoke highlighted against the setting sun. “That’s Arretzi, up ahead.”

  “Mm. How big?” Thomasi asked, licking loose breadcrumbs from his gloves.

  “According to my mother, it’s huge.”

  “That’s what she said,” Thomasi grinned.

  “Yes, that is what she said. Why else would I say that?” Chase explained slowly. Was he dense?

  “Private joke.”

  “Ah. One of those things.”

  “Yes. Definitely.”

  Thomasi did this sometimes, he found random things and turns of phrases hilarious. Chase marked it down to his nature. Thomasi, among other things, was a player. What exactly that meant, she didn’t know. But it did mean that he was weird.

  So instead of trying to unravel the details of the joke, she focused on explaining what lay ahead. “Here. Actually, this is a good time for that geography lesson. Lecture.”

  Your Lecture skill is now level 4!

  Thomasi and Renny scooted in closer, watching Chase across the crackling fire.

  “We’re in the Barony of Lafiore. It’s a small place, as it goes. A couple of dozen villages, and two small cities. The biggest one is the baronial seat… which we aren’t going to, for obvious reasons.”

  “Quite,” Thomasi said, mustaches twitching. “Baroness Floria’s chief servant wanting us captured or dead, for example. Well, if she’s still alive.”