Bodiccea (Chapter 3)

Template:Bodiccea nav The next morning, Bodiccea went to see Kashya. "Hi."

The other woman frowned, visibly irritated and not hiding it at all. After a short silence, she finally said, "Hello."

Gritting her teeth into a passable smile, Bodiccea said, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry if I got on your nerves. I joke about things when I'm nervous. Okay?"

"I take it the den taught you how funny Hell's forces are." Kashya said with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah," Bodiccea nodded, ponytail wagging up and down. "I know exactly how big of a threat they are. Now I do, I mean. Anyhoo, if we're both cool about this, I'm gonna go out to the, um, to the pass and kill some more things. Gotta get 'em all, you know?"

"Andarial's minions are summoned straight from Hell. Our arrows send so many back where they came from every day, but their numbers never seem to diminish. The demon queen herself must be struck down."

"Yeah, that's the idea. Still, it'll take me a while to get to the monastery. Know any local hot spots I should look out for on the way?"

Kashya's thin lips tightened to a line. "Only one."

Bodiccea slowly nodded, obviously waiting. "Yeah, and... ?"

"This is a threat that shows the den to have been no more than an advanced camp for the enemy. My oldest friend, Blood Raven, fell under Andarial's evil spell. I know not how, but she is in our graveyard as we speak, raising our own dead to march against us!"

"Whoa. What an abomination."

"My thoughts exactly," Kashya hissed. "This cannot be allowed to continue! Blood Raven was our order's deadliest archer, even more than myself, and I am sure Andarial has warped her into something even more formidable than before."

Bodiccea nodded, idly watching the chickens run around camp. "Sounds pretty nasty."

"I have heard that the warriors of the Amazon isles are the best archers in the world..."

Bodiccea smirked. "Don't think much of spears, huh?"

"I know many ways of fighting, and the weaknesses of many weapons. Were you not so sure of yourself, I could share what I know of the way of the bow."

"Oh, I know how to use a bow!" Bodiccea laughed, and held up her spear in her left hand like it was a bow. "You hold this part, pull back the string, then release and whap yourself in the tit like I did the last time I tried to use one."

Kashya didn't laugh. "I see. Do not the Amazons --"

Bodiccea quickly cut her off. "No thanks, I'll stick with spears. They're easy, you just gotta use a little stragedy! Run and dodge a lot, hit hard and fast. Simple!"

"From what my scouts have reported, you are not as fast as Blood Raven. Attempting to close with your spear would be folly."

"I guess I'd better work on hitting hard, then. I'll get a faster spear later. First comes the Brandistock, then a War Fork, and I'll finally work my way up a Mancatcher."

A sudden twitch suddenly moved across Kashya's mouth, lingering at the corners, and she blinked twice. Bodiccea grinned. "Hey, did I almost see a smile?"

"No."

"Yes it was! You thought of a funny, didn't you? What? What? What?"

"Nothing."

"Aw, c'mon! I'm so sure you did!"

"No! I didn't think of anything!"

Glancing heavenwards in exasperation, Bodiccea sighed. "Wimp. I'll say it for you: 'But Boddy-baby, you already have two of the biggest, bounciest man-catchers in the whole wide world, what do you need another one for?'"

Kashya glared. "That WASN'T it!"

Bodiccea giggled. "It would have been better if it was."

"That's something GHEED would say!"

"Hey, thanks for reminding me!" Bodiccea bounced over to Gheed's corner of the camp, and a cry of anguish soon trumpeted out into the morning air. She came back dusting her hands. "Yuck, his undies are really crusty today. See ya!"

As Bodiccea vanished through the waypoint, Gheed came over. He was wearing a pair of chainmail pantaloons, perhaps in the hope that having steel britches would protect him from further assaults. Unfortunately for him, the mail only made his suffering worse: they had been yanked up and over the back of his head, bending him nearly double. He had to waddle up to the fire, facing backwards, arms flailing desperately to keep his balance. "SOMEBODY GET ME A CROWBAR!!"

Out on the Cold Plains, Bodiccea stopped to talk with Flavie. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Same as last night. There are more Zombies, thanks to Blood Raven."

"Don't worry, I'm on it. Which way's the graveyard?"

"To the left. You take care. The Corrupted Rogues ahead are not to be trifled with."

Bodiccea smirked. "I don't trifle with naked women, no matter what our audience wants."

"Ew. Did you have to remind me of that?"

"Sorry. Well, I'm off for my first slice of cheesecake. See ya!"

It didn't take Bodiccea long to find her first Corrupted Rogues. A swarm of Fallen Ones were milling around a burning house. While she was drawing a dozen or so away from their Shamans, three axe-wielding Rogues showed up. They were deathly pale, with jet black hair, and some animator over at Blizzard had a good time getting all those jiggles juuuuust right. After killing them, she got the Shamans, then the inside of the house, and chased Fallen into all the corners. The Shaman in the house dropped a grand charm, a "stout" one, which didn't suit Bodiccea at all. She's not stout. Well... women should have curves.

The Cold Plains were full of Fallen and a few Rogues. Chasing the little fartknockers down got to be a real drag. Monsters that come right up and stand there while you kill them are so much easier to deal with. Bodiccea experimented with Jab and Power Strike a few times, but hardly needed either. The mana cost was too much at this point anyway. On the plains, she found a 3-socketed spear, two chipped sapphires and a chipped ruby, gloves, a pair of boots that actually fit, and a large charm with +3 dexterity.

Bishibosh was in a camp near the entrance to the Stony Fields. Say what you will about Blizzard's artistic choices, Bodiccea approved of making the dangerous beasties different colors. She'd already met a unique Rogue spearwoman who was beige instead of white; her only mod was Stone Skin, so Bodiccea killed her minions first. A Shaman like Bishibosh is different. When she spotted his snot-green bod on one side of the camp, she walked away, drawing a dozen Fallen after her. Once they were out of the way, she ran back, dodging fireballs, and jabbed Bishi until he exploded. He only dropped one magic item, an amulet with fire resistance. Seems like you never find what you need until after you need it.

Bodiccea's last stop on the Cold Plains was a house with a dead Rogue on the floor. Rogues seem to die in suggestive poses a lot... maybe it's just the outfit. Next to the house was the Cave. Before going in, Bodiccea went back to the Rogue camp to dump some loot.

Beside the wagon by Charsi's, a pale, skinny, very tired-looking man was waiting. For now, the too-full pack he'd been carrying around for years was sitting in the wagon. As soon as Bodiccea walked up, he got to his feet. "Howdy, Miss Thang! I'm the Mule!"

"It's about time!" Bodiccea huffed, then grinned. "Whatcha got for me? Let me guess: Bloodthief, the unique Brandistock?"

"Sorry, babe!" he shook his head. "Minimum level 17."

"Uh... any Brandistock?"

"Nope! You're getting the best starter equipment I've ever given ANYBODY!"

"Really!?"

"Yes, indeedy!" The Mule reached into his pack. "And now... for your edutainment... the one and only one we've got... Sigon's Complete Steel, minus the shield!" In one swell foop, he smashed a disorganized collection of gleaming metal plates over Bodiccea's head.

"Wish you were a Javie, you'd get the whole thing," the Mule grinned. "No need to thank me now! Maybe later, when you get out of all that stuff. I'll be by with a spear for you when you're big enough for it. Ta ta!"

There was a soft poof, like resident memory being reallocated. "Hey!" Bodiccea called out, her voice echoing around her ears. She could barely see in that helmet, but knew he was gone. Burnished armor plates now completely encased her body in magically hardened steel, polished like a mirror and chased with gold, from the heavy greaves on her feet up to the gleaming golden horns on the great helm. Her hair had even been braided.

A Paladin, obviously, would cream his green jeans for this stuff. Bodiccea had her own opinions. "Hey! Get back here! I don't want this! Where's my old armor? Hey!" Nobody answered. "I'm not running around in this! How do I file a protest? HEY!!" All it did was make that ugly helmet echo. Frowning, she snarled, "Ok, that does it. CONFERENCE!"

Bodiccea turned around, pried open the side of the Rogue camp grounds, and stepped back into the space beyond. After a short, electrifying trip, she made her way to an unused memory block where the others were waiting. They'd set up a conference room, tiled in malachite and paneled in oak, decorated with brass ornamental wirework in an art deco style. Frosted glass windows covered one wall, letting filtered sunlight fall on the white marble table that dominated the center of the floor. To the north was a fully stocked bar, with a bronze, steam-powered automaton pacing back and forth aimlessly.

"Wow," Bodiccea said. "Nice room."

"We borrowed the graphics from the First City Bank and Trust," Thaddeus said. "It makes this easier."

"That explains the robot, at least."

"Never mind the robot," Tearlach bellowed. "What is your problem, woman?!"

"This!" Bodiccea threw Sigon's helmet down on the table with a clang, and shook the braid out of her hair. "Look at me! That stupid mule came swooping out of nowhere and without my permission, stripped me and put me in this stuff! I look like a fun house mirror! I hate heavy armor, and that damned helmet is U! G! L! YYYYYY!! I want my old stuff back, and I want it right now!"

Amanita laughed, lighting a cigar. "Meaning you haven't teased Warriv as much as you want to yet."

"Well, no," Bodiccea bounced on her toes. "I mean, look at this. I can't even bounce in it, my chest doesn't move at all. How am I gonna drive Warriv completely to distraction with my big guns covered up?"

"First, you leave Warriv alone! He's nice." Xanthippe crossed her arms. "Then, you be happy you got that stuff. I would have killed for that set back then."

Amanita looked at Xanthippe. "You'd kill if someone didn't put enough marshmallows in your cocoa."

"I would not! I don't even like cocoa that much."

Dear Diary,

Of all the things to be dragged kicking and screaming out of retirement for! I will grant you, the opportunity to feast my eyes upon the Amazon is what tempted me, but now that I have done so, it is perfectly clear that "there is such a thing as too much of a good thing." From a distance, she is statuesque, an indomitable goddess in red and gold. At closer quarters, her over-abundant charms threaten to slop out of that tin suit and entomb us all in a quivering avalanche of pale, veinous flesh. However, her complaints have some merit. Personally, I wouldn't be caught dead in that hideous steel conspiracy.

"Ladies, please!" Varnae smiled, bowing ever so slightly. "And, of course, esteemed gentlemen. Let us remember the difficulties each of us encountered on our individual long, slow roads to triumph. I feel confident in assuming that the terrors of the Rogue's Pass were neither the greatest nor most numerous of these?"

"Speak for yourself," Xanthippe sneered. "Corpsefire almost caved my skull in."

"Ha!" Tearlach laughed. "Only because you were too foolish to stick to your meager strengths. A Sorceress in combat! What idiocy."

"Idiotic enough to make Matriarch, something you haven't done..."

Tearlach grunted. "What a shame, I'll never be a Matriarch. Idiot."

Slowly dragging a Bec-de-corbin off her back, Xanthippe hissed, "Would you like to qualify for Matriarch? I could make a lot of girls incredibly grateful..."

"That will be enough!" Thaddeus rapped his caduceus on the table. "Xanthippe, stand down. Tearlach, you are out of line. Apologize to the lady at once."

Eyes glinting like blue volcanoes, Tearlach slowly turned to face Thaddeus. "I will say this once. If you even think of giving me orders again, I will stomp a mudhole in your neck."

"Yeah!" Xanthippe said. "Just 'cause you made Patriarch first doesn't make you the boss of us."

Mizor: "Grrraaahhhh!!"

Paige: "The boss says you should quit fighting, it's stupid. And the Amazon should be happy with Sigon's set."

Thaddeus blinked. "How did you get all that?"

Paige: "Practice."

Mizor: "Rmmf." (looks smug)

"Can't you guys at least fight over me?" Bodiccea pouted. "I don't like not being the center of attention."

Amanita leaned against the wall, taking a draw on her cigar. "Trust me, we know."

"Quite so," Varnae smiled. "Allow me to introduce myself: I am --"

"Forget it, deadboy. I'm not interested."

Dear Diary,

Oh! Cut off so sharply, so callously! I knew something about this vision reminded me of my dear, departed deadly nightshade blossom. Her armor is also familiar; I recall recovering exactly such a suit from Baal's twitching corpse. Given the nature of our relationship, there is every reason to believe that she has chosen exactly the suit which I provided through our mutual acquaintance! Ought I to mention this? Ah, but no! I already feel the first stirrings of affection in my tender bosom, and invoking a material debt could poison any possibility of reciprocation in its infancy. She simply is not ready, perhaps due to some recent tragedy. My devotion must remain unknown to all, for now.

Mizor: (Stares at Varnae. Why is the pale sickly man suddenly breathing funny?)

Xanthippe rolled her eyes. "Look, you over-inflated bimbo, get this through your head: it's not all about you!"

"Yes, it is!" Bodiccea snorted. "It's my story arc! You had your chance, it's my turn!"

"Sorceress, I'm afraid she is right," Thaddeus muttered, a bit ruefully, before turning back to Bodiccea. "The decision is always yours, though abandoning some of the finest armor available at this point in your career seems... ill-advised."

"There's no good reason for it!" Xanthippe shouted.

Tearlach raised an eyebrow, a smirk growing on his face. "If she wants to go back to the skimpy leathers... no true, red-blooded man would mind. The rest of you might even agree." Thaddeus frowned. Even Varnae looked a bit insulted.

Mizor: "Rrr..." (Hears no translation from Paige.) "Rrr?" (Looks around. Where'd she go?)

Meanwhile, in the bar to the north, Klatu gave the little bronze robot a kick. "Does that thing ever shut up?"

Kasim poured some beer into the robot's boiler. It shuddered to a halt and collapsed, gasping about failing to understand... creation. "That got it."

Behind the bar, Khaleel finally broke into the cabinet where the good stuff was kept. After some chilling, he started passing it around. "So... who do you think's got the worst boss?"

Paige: "One of you guys. Fuzzy Wuzzy's hard to figure out, but he's not so bad."

After taking a swig of the bank's finest hooch, Klatu sighed. "Ah... it has to be me. Look at that ass out there. Turns everything into a fight."

Paige: "I don't have to, I can hear him."

"I can smell him," Kasim laughed. "Still, you think he's worse than deadboy?"

"The Barb is pretty bad," Khaleel said, draining the last of one bottle, "but I gotta tell you, no one comes close to my boss for creepy."

Paige: "Hmm, maybe. He's hitting on the Assassin again."

"Did he live?" Kasim asked.

"Would being dead stop him?" Klatu asked.

"He'll probably try to dress her up," Khaleel took another long swig.

Paige: "Assassins like to dress up. Black leather and bare butts. Bleah."

The three male mercs stared at her, then shrugged. "Oh, I dunno..." Kasim muttered.

Paige: (laughs) "Man, you guys are predictable."

Khaleel laughed. "So, are you gonna drink or what? It's almost gone."

Paige: "Yeah, gimme some." (Drains cup.) "So, what do you guys think of the Amazon?"

All three of the men remained silent, lost in thought. Finally, Khaleel said, "She isn't even close to being as nice looking as you."

Paige: (Rolls eyes.) "Ah, ha. What was that all about?"

Kasim grinned. "I think it's called 'dodging a bullet'."

Klatu patted Khaleel on the back, almost knocking him into the bar. "You speak like a man who knows the ways of women."

"Hey," Khaleel shrugged, "I've had to hang around with deadboy this long..."

As laughter filled the bar, Bodiccea finally shouted loud enough to make herself heard over the din in the conference room. "HEY!!"

Tearlach looked a bit surprised. "You have good lungs, woman. I should have guessed."

"Shut up. I have a solution to this."

"Then speak," Thaddeus said. "Anything to resolve this mess."

"Right," Bodiccea smiled. "I'm supposed to be a fast spearazon, right?"

They all nodded. "So I shouldn't wear anything that slows me down. Sigon's Shelter is Gothic Plate, and slows movement by 5%. I looked it up."

There was a stunned silence. Finally, Xanthippe blinked. "When'd you grow a brain?"

Bodiccea grinned. "Neener, neener, neener! I'll take my leathers back, thank you. And lose that helmet. Sigon's boots, gloves, and belt are enough to get me most of the worthwhile set bonuses."

"The armor offers lightning resistance..." Thaddeus offered.

"I'll worry about that in Act II. Gimme my leathers!"

Amanita laughed, and stepped out of the room. "And people think I'm the leather fanatic. Give 'em back, she's earned 'em."

"Well..." Thaddeus sighed. "We'll tell the Mule. They'll be waiting outside the Cave."

"Thank you, kind ladies and sirs. That will be all. Ta ta!"