3-8: Half-Mad Mongrel

Straddling a ridge high enough to escape the densest of the fog, the city of Mongrel is one of the largest we've seen so far. Its high stone walls are surely completely impenetrable to fogmen. Stone buildings in all shapes and sizes are clustered around a central dip in elevation that forms the main thoroughfare and leads down to where the two gates are. Away from the camera and toward the far gate, the walls divert sharply to include an area that appears empty in the screenshot but has some industrial equipment in it. For some reason, there is also an ore drill right behind the inn. I feel like that makes for a poor guest experience.

Mongrel is an impressive city for something cobbled together by scrappy fugitives. Frankly it's an impressive city by any standard. There's a wide range of shops, a Shinobi Thieves tower, even a faction HQ that I suppose serves as the seat of whatever form of government they have here. The guards and the controlling faction aren't Shinobi Thieves despite the guards having shinobi in their name; their faction is simply listed as Mongrel. It's a completely independent city.

The gang starts on down the thoroughfare, taking in the sights and sounds. Something odd sticks out: Amid the ambient chatter, they think they hear someone... beeping?

Beep: Beep

Beep: Beep

Ninja Guard: Disruptive asshat

Beep: ...

Jam turns to find the source of the noise and finds a scrawny worker drone approaching them.

Between a couple stone buildings, Jam speaks to a hive worker drone who is wearing a rag skirt and no top. Worker drones look about the same as soldiers and princes, though skinnier on average, except for their heads. Their faces are thin with squared edges and side-facing black eyes. Their rectangular foreheads stretch upward, ending in a single backwards-pointing antenna.

Beep: Beep!

Jam: Uhh... Hi Beep...

Beep: ...

Beep: ...how... how do you know my name?

Jam: You just said “beep” for no reason, so I thought maybe you were introducing yourself

Beep: ...You must be some kind of genius then?

Jam: Err... are you taking the piss?

Beep: Beep

Jam: I think you are!

Beep: [he swallows nervously] Sir, I would never steal your piss...

Jam: What?

Beep: Sorry, I beep when I'm nervous.

Jam: That's a bit weird

Beep: They exiled me from the Hive

Jam: Just because you keep saying “beep”?

Beep: I am defective. Not good for the Hive.

Beep: But Beep doesn't give up! Beep is strong!

Beep: Since I left the Hive I can feel my mind changing, the way I think, I feel free, having thoughts I never had before. I want freedom, but everywhere I go things try to kill me or chase me.

Beep: Beep tires of running. Time to stab the things that chase me.

Jam: *sigh* Another weak nobody. How much money do you want?

Beep: Money? I don't know what that means.

Jam: Welcome to the team!

Beep: Beep!

Beep's stats window.

Those are in fact ones across the board; read 'em and beep. This funky little worker drone will need some training and some gear if he's going to going to make it out of Mongrel.

On that note, the gang now has at least one of each of the three kinds of hiver: Jam the soldier, Silvershade the prince, and Beep the worker. Workers are overall the most fragile of the three and the most fragile of all playable characters; they have only 75 HP in each body part, excepting their head which has 125. One could argue princes are more fragile with 80s across the board making for a lower total, but people don't need to lose all their HP across all their body parts to die. They just need to lose one vital body part and it's the chest, not the head, that's the part most often hit.

Hive worker drones get xp gain bonuses to Athletics, Dexterity, Engineering, Farming, Labouring, Stealth, Thievery, Toughness, and Turrets. They take penalties to Cooking, Science, and Strength. As per the character creator:

Expendable workers born to labour for the good of their Hive, they know only obedience and value service to the Hive above any personal benefits, safety or comfort. If separated from the controlling influence of the Hive they usually die, but in rare cases become free individuals. Bewildered by their newfound freedom and loss of a predetermined purpose they wander lost and seek meaning, but usually just find death or exploitation.

Given his fragility, the smart thing to do would be to give Beep a crossbow to keep him out of the fray, make him a thief that doesn't fight, or keep him at home. That's not what Beep wants, though. Beep says he wants to stab the things that chase him? He'll get to. He will be a melee fighter of some sort and I will do my utmost to keep him alive while he becomes strong.

With Beep in tow, the gang starts making the rounds through the shops. First up is the weapons shop. Riddly's had her topper katana since before joined and while it's a good weapon she's become quite skilled with, she'd like to branch out. She's taken on more of a heavy fighter role within the gang, a little at odds with a pure cutting weapon like a katana. Heavy armour like hers hinders intricate bladework; the mercenary plate she wears only lets her use 80% of her Dexterity. As such, she'd prefer a weapon that uses a combination of Dexterity and raw Strength.

Riddly is shopping at the Mongrel weapon shop. The shop's inventory shows a whole lot of sabres, a few katanas, and a combat cleaver that is being moused over. The combat cleaver divides damage pretty evenly between cutting and blunt with a slight bias toward cutting, causes a middling amount of blood loss, has 30% armour penetration, deals a bonus 25% damage to robots and has a 10% damage penalty against animals.

Combat Cleaver

A sword-cleaver hybrid, it's lighter and more suited to normal combat.

Cleavers are good if you want to rely on Strength, more wieldy than heavy weapons and deadlier than blunt weapons. It'll be vastly better than the topper against armoured enemies, trading the 15% armour penetration penalty for a 30% bonus and trading some cutting damage for blunt, less resisted by metal armour. Riddly buys a Mk III-grade combat cleaver from the shop, a very high grade indeed, at the whopping price of 16,566 Cats. While spending that much makes me a little green around the gills just on principle, what're all those Cats for if not sick gear?

Beep gets the hand-me-down katana. Flitting from shop to shop, the gang hears another strange sound coming from one of the bars.

The gang runs into the bar, finding that the noise is coming from a hive soldier in an orange leather longcoat sitting at one of the tables. At the table with them are two other hivers: A hive prince in an orange leather longcoat and a tricorn hat and a second hive prince in a black leather jacket and a pot helm. It's the latter who will be trying to explain their drinking buddy's troubles.

Mongrel crazy: Wreee.... wreeee....

Mongrel crazy: Wreeee....

Outlaw: Don't mind him, he lost his mind long ago...

Outlaw: Driven crazy by the fog, poor guy. Who knows what he's been through out there in the Deathyards...

This hive soldier is making a similar sound to the fogmen. Keys finds herself wondering: Do regular hivers turn into fogmen? They must, otherwise how would fogmen be made? Is it something in the fog that turns hivers after enough exposure? Surely it couldn't be that—if it was just fog exposure, people around here would have seen hivers turn. They probably would have said something to Jam and Silvershade when the gang rolled in.

Awfully curious and a little alarmed, Keys strikes up a conversation with the third hiver sitting at the table. Could be they know something.

Keys, wearing a brand new leather jacket from the Shinobi Thieves and sporting a bloody elbow from the fight with the fogmen, chats with the hive prince in the orange leather longcoat and tricorn hat.

Zenzobik: Being stuck in this godforsaken place, it's enough to drive you stir crazy... take a seat, roamer. You're gonna be here a while.

Keys: What do you mean?

Zenzobik: The Deathyards, drifter, you'd have to be out of your mind to set foot in those cursed valleys. I came here to escape prison... But turns out, this is just prison in another guise, more hellish than the last.

Keys: How about you escape here, with me?

Zenzobik: What are you crazy!? No one goes into the fog and comes out alive, only the lucky make it to Mongrel... don't tempt fate, newbie.

Keys: Well, I came here and I'll leave here...

Zenzobik: Nobody leaves Mongrel, roamer...

It's starting to sound like the people here don't know any more about the fogmen than the gang does. They don't even talk about them, just the fog itself. Keys is left to speculate. She excuses herself from the three hivers' company and wanders over to the other side of the bar; Jam has joined a bunch of humans at a table there and is already chatting away, social butterfly that they are.

Jam sits at a table next to a curvy human woman with charcoal grey skin, shoulder-length scarlet red hair, red-lensed round goggles, and leather armour. They chat. Also at the table are an older fair-skinned human man with shaggy white hair who is shrimping worse than I've ever seen and a brawny dark-skinned human man with a shaved head. The rest of the gang stands in the background, perhaps a little awkwardly.

Shryke: Stranded in this dead end town and for what? Some puffed up tech hunter rumour of AI cores and CPU units? Well, goodbye blue skies, goodbye sunlight, so long desert breeze. Now there's the sounds of the fog to listen to instead. Listen to that and you've got yourself a few sleepless nights... And don't even get me started on food! How much longer are the reserves gonna last on this marooned island, eh? Ugh...

Shryke: Anyway, looks like you're one of us now, eh? Welcome to the party! If you don't wanna be a party pooper, don't talk about the fog... or what's in it for that matter. The screeches and groans are enough of a reminder already...

Jam: How long have you been here?

Shryke: Too long. Don't tend to keep track of the days in this place but I'd say a year or so now. Long enough to start feeling the Mongrel crazy at least.

Jam: Why not leave?

Shryke: Oh, I want to, believe me. But every single time I pluck up the courage, my dear old brother's tortured screams echo in my mind. And that's when I remember that perhaps a lack of sunlight and the odd back-pain grumble from Crumblejon isn't such a bad thing after all. Not compared to my fate that lurks in the fogs... I mean sure, it's easy to throw out suggestions, captain obvious, but talking about it is much easier than doing it...

Jam: How about you leave with me?

Shryke: Well... you've got a nice sized crowd following you... and you all made it here in one piece, that's something. But is it enough I wonder...

Shryke: [She grows silent as she fidgets with the scar on her hand]

Shryke: Ahh, to the abyss with it. I might never get another chance....

Shryke: Drag me if you have to. Don't let me bail on this.

Oh, Jam will carry her if necessary. That was something I checked before deciding to send the gang to Mongrel: I wanted to be sure at least some of my characters were strong enough carry a friend on their shoulders and still outrun fogmen. Just in case.

Jam is always thrilled to make new friends and considers asking the other two people at the table if they'd like to join as well, but the gang is already getting pretty numerous for people who lack a reliable food source. Maybe another time. They're happy as is—they're looking forward to spending time with Beep and Shryke.

Shryke's stats window. Most of her combat stats hover around 5 and she has 10 Athletics.

While Shryke has a few points in a wide variety of stats, nearly everything still being in single digits means she's not really that much stronger than Beep. Her starting equipment isn't going to do a whole lot to protect her either. Her polearm is of usable quality but her leather armour and boots are both Shoddy-grade and as such offer little protection in exchange for the stat penalties they bestow. She and Beep will both be training and buying new equipment before it'll be safe for them to leave Mongrel.


3-9: THAT OLD BLUE SKY ⮞