Fire, smoke, and magical steel erupted from Ozzy’s position as a world-shattering explosion tore its way through the swamp. The round hit the root sucker with all of the energy and poundage of a Mack truck condensed into a half inch blunt tip. Chunks of organs, bone, and flesh flew out of the monster like confetti, decorating the swamp in a macabre new color scheme. It staggered, still holding onto Emil through sheer luck and monstrous fortitude. They all knew however it wasn’t long for this world.

  A grapefruit sized hole went cleanly through its side, wide enough that Ozzy could see light through it from where he stood more than 50 meters away. Blood pumped out of the wound and though it remained upright Ozzy could tell it took the creature a vast amount of effort. He raised the rifle back up to his shoulder,

  “No half measures.” He muttered to himself and pulled the trigger.

  BANG

  For the second time a gout of flame spat its way out of the firearm, leaving the air around him hazy and smelling of gunpowder. The root sucker, already as good as dead didn’t fare well. Ozzy’s aim had been true and the bullet had lanced its way through the monster’s fish head. It was like lighting a firecracker inside of watermelon. The root suckers head popped, leaving nothing to the imagination as a second much more spectacular spray of gore coated the immediate area, including Emil, who fell with the monster.

  ***

  Times were that Emil’d call himself a smart man, a gentleman of the hunt, a true denizen of the great swamp. Right now though? He’d spent all of his bad idea points on a single spectacularly bad horrible idea and bet double on it. Something about the way Ozzy’s weapon had put down those murk rats earlier had instilled a serious sense of wonder in him, and he’d assumed with his prior hunting experience fighting root suckers in groups that they’d be able to handle things. That had all been decided while he was under the impression the root sucker was tier one, he hadn’t even bothered to check whether or not it had evolved with how rarely the monsters managed it. Gods was he stupid.

  He and Ozzy were both tier zero, the root sucker had nearly been tier two, and if it hadn’t been for Ozzy’s miracle maneuver just then they would’ve been one of an endless series of examples why the tiers existed. Namely to keep morons like him from trying to punch above their weight class. He had been blinded by greed, and he’d definitely taken his licks for it. At this point he just hoped Ozzy would be able to get to him before he drowned.

  Splash!

  ***

  Splashing through the swamp like a bear on coke he rushed for Emil. With no idea what sort of injuries the big man might’ve sustained in the monsters grasp he was seriously concerned about his ability to swim. It was a concern quickly validated when Emil didn’t resurface and still out a good two hundred feet he seriously began to worry, an emotion somewhat alleviated however as Ozzy spotted an unfortunate looking rodent diving into the water right where Emil had fallen.

  Frank was on the job.

  One healing potion, a wet rat, a short looting ritual, and several hundred oar strokes in awkward silence later and they were back at the floating wagon. They had taken the way back to think about the string of decisions and circumstances that had led them to today, it was the kind of silence you got almost dying on the highway and driving the rest of the way home with the music off.

  The fishermen had apparently watched the whole thing go down and were just as silent as the dinghy’s occupants. They stood all in a row on the platform Ozzy and Emil had launched the dinghy off of not half an hour ago, with only Colber seeming to not have comprehended that Emil’s and Ozzy’s deaths would have foreshadowed the rest of the crew’s untimely demise as a hungry and angry root sucker looked around for extra food.

  “I suppose you’ll be wanting help up?” Norman asked unhelpfully, already in the process of throwing down a rope.

  “Oh, we we’re just thinking of floating alongside you morons.” Frank replied with world class sarcasm.

  “Alright then, if that’s what you-” Norman didn’t even get to pull the rope back up.

  “OF COURSE WE’RE WANTING HELP UP” Frank paused to take a breath. “YOU BLOODY MORON!”

  A susurrus of “Yes sir’s” and “right away”s came as Norman and the crew made quick work of getting the dinghy and its battered occupants aboard. Where once un-boarded and unloaded everyone once again stood in awkward silence, no one quite knowing whether a congratulations or long nap would be more appropriate for the returning heroes.

  The only exception to the rule was Colber who seemed less than pleased about several things including the return of the rag tag team. Thankfully for everyone involved however Frank was a well-practiced adult rat and shooed the fishermen away, nipping at heels when they didn’t move fast enough.

  Once they were alone again Frank began to slowly pace back and forth across the platform like the world’s smallest furriest drill sergeant. “You two realize you’re the biggest morons alive right?” Frank asked, momentarily pausing his step.

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  Emil didn’t look up at him, which was hard to since Frank was basically level with his feet.

  “I didn’t realize it would be-” Ozzy started.

  “I realize you don’t know yer arse from yer pea shooter, summoner, but it being the size of a bloody house should’ve been a good hint!” Frank snapped. “And you!” Frank turned on Emil. “The hell were you thinking taking him out there? He’s a little babbling fool for all magical intents and purposes! If I hadn’t pinched that little shard on my way over to em you’d be busy filling your afternoon with the pleasant views afforded you by a fish gut!”

  Emil nodded glumly, glancing between the two of them. “I didn’t think it’d be evolved. I’m sorry.”

  “As you better well be! Now then you can consider the shard I snatched as payment for not using your head as anything other than a nice rental home for bad ideas.” He harrumphed.

  “I’m done twisting your tits though, we need to talk loot.” Frank said, greed more than a little evident in the rodent’s voice.

  Despite Frank having already torn strips off of Emil Ozzy was very much not ready to talk loot. If anything, he wanted to talk about the giant monster that had been more tank than animal. How it had not only halfway crushed Emil to death but broken most of Ozzy’s bones and skewered him on a cypress.

  Shooting the rats a couple of hours ago had been one thing. Sure, it had been dangerous and the one that surprised him had torn him up a little but it had just barely hurt him. It was honestly probably less damage than he would have taken if he’d tangled with a mountain lion or bear back on earth, and he was okay with that kind of risk. Hell, he assumed there could be that kind of risk every time he’d gone out bush when he was back in Alaska.

  One thing he hadn’t signed up for however, was fighting Cthulhu’s little brother. When they’d gone out he’d had his doubts and whatnot, but nothing in this world or the one he’d come from could have prepared him for the reality of a creature that could survive being turned into a living cheese grater.

  As Ozzy bent over to look at the loot he had to will his negative thoughts away. They had at least been wildly compensated for killing the monster. Two whole shards, monster parts, a core, and two different rings. It was a veritable treasure trove. It was all quickly and efficiently broken down by Ozzy’s watch after a quick scan.

  *BEEP BEEP*

  Items identified:

  47 barbed suction cups

  40lbs of monstrous tentacles

  17lbs of hideous catfish meat

  2 monstrous catfish whiskers

  1 root sucker beak

  1 ring of swampfinding: aids in the sensing of treasure within the depths of the swamp.

  1 ring of the fish baron: allows the wearer to speak with fish.

  1 shard of might

  1 shard of scavenging

  1 core of tentacles

  From his position beside Ozzy Emil recoiled, “You need to get rid of that ring. We cannot have another Norman situation.” He pleaded

  “I’m never letting it out of my sight.” Ozzy held a hand like a boy scout as he made a halfhearted oath.

  Emil only spared him a momentary glance before cataloging loot prices in his head. His eyes began to light up as he gradually racked up more roqs than he’d be able to spend.

  “Do you want the good news, or the bad news first?” Emil asked, though the smile on his face belied little bad news.

  “Bad news first?” Ozzy asked questioningly, curious as to what their little pile of treasure as worth.

  “The bad news is I don’t know anyone who could buy this much monster meat. The good news is that we’ll be kickin’ it back easy for the next few months, even if I get a bad deal on the meat!”

  With little hesitation Emil began to shovel the less than appealing pile of monster meat into his dimensional bag. It was all squelches and uncomfortably loud slurping as piece by pice the pile of tentacles shrank. In less than a minute all of the monster parts had disappeared. Left in their place was a foul-smelling sludge and the more magical pieces of treasure, the shards, the rings, and of course the core.

  Gazing over the pile Ozzy felt a little remise selling the shards. The flood of power he’d experienced after absorbing the shard of power was the kind of rush a junkie would dream of, with none of the ill effects either. Rather he felt better than ever, and having a second weapon at his disposal made him that much more secure in what had shown itself to be a less than forgiving environment.

  Leaning forward he picked up the shards of might and scavenging. It probably wouldn’t be fair of him to take both, seeing as they were sharing loot, but he had a hard time deciding between both.

  “Ahem” Startled out of his thoughts Ozzy looked up as Emil loudly cleared his throat.

  “You ain’t thinking of keeping those are you?” He asked in the kind of way that hinted very strongly that he should not.

  “Well, I was only going to keep one of them if that’s what you’re wondering. You don’t gotta worry, I’m not gonna take your time off.”

  “Nah nah, we can split it any way you want. It’s all just money to me, shards or monster meat.” Emil picked up the core, examining it as he spoke. “I just worry that you’d be selling yourself short.”

  “By getting stronger?”

  Emil harrumphed and sat the core back down. “Something like that.” He took a deep breath and waited a moment, giving Ozzy a good long stare. “You can talk to the rat about the consequences of power if you have to. I don’t have much a mind to speak on it as it is.”

  Just like that the conversation ended, Emil stomping off as Ozzy was left with just about a million questions. All of which seemed rather pertinent for someone quite literally lost in space, or potentially another dimension.

  With a great deal more hope than confidence Ozzy turned to Frank. The scraggly little rat had practically become their babysitter after the root sucker fight. So chances were good he’d offer a little advice. But of course things were never that easy, with a sly smile the rat shook his head and dissolved into gods be damned mana as the bastard un-summoned himself.

  Now left to his own devices Ozzy grabbed the two shards and walked out onto the platform they’d left the dinghy on.

  A few of the fishermen were sitting about, though they made themselves scarce as Ozzy approached, each uttering incoherent and muttered excuses as to why they very important business to attend to elsewhere on the wagon. It wasn’t like he’d glared them off either, they’d just scattered like pigeons, leaving him to bask in the solemnity of a silent swamp.

  Just what mom would have wanted for him.