Successor of Kukulkan

Slithering through the bushes, TJ listened to the pops of three more shots fired. That was a total of nine shots without any presumable opportunity to refill the cylinder. Eleven more, and then Stanton was stranded. 

"I'm coming!" TJ shouted as he rushed to follow his own trail. He cursed his foolhardy rush to kill just a couple more of their enemies. The street was less than a minute's travel away, but each second stretched, and three more shots sounded out before he burst through the brush surrounding the road. "It's me!" he remembered to shout as he rushed out of the cover. Stanton stood solidly in the middle of the road, his eyes peeled and roaming across the surrounding forest. 

"Hit once." The old man reported as he gestured to a tear in the side of his shirt, exposing the weeping wound below. "Not seriously, but I'm poisoned. 10 HP a minute. My total is 180, so I have sixteen more minutes to live, unless there's something you can do. Suck out the poison?"

TJ rushed to do as much, willing to try anything. A little doubt tickled at the edge of his mind, though. "I can. I'm happy to. Do you want to try to do it yourself, though?" 

"I look like a contortionist to you, kid?"

"No, I mean. Like cut it out? I got my Occupation by doing things. Maybe you could get an Occupation by treating yourself? I don't think it would give the same Skills or benefits as whatever the Disciples get, but another way to level, at least, is great. Getting the level should heal you all the way, too, so maybe that'll purge your poison. If the Occupation helps you to heal yourself after the level, then that's even better." The words tumbled out of TJ's mouth, his mind not yet caught up to whatever he was saying. After thinking about it for a second, Stanton came to his decision.

"Wish I had some chew for this." He grumbled as he pulled his knife from the sheath at his side. 

TJ nearly retorted, but instead, he remembered his backpack and its side pocket. He wrenched open the zipper while Stanton gathered himself in preparation for cutting the flesh from his side. "Wait a second." TJ said as he pulled the ruined backpack out and ripped the final zipper open. There, the stupid sentimental can of tobacco laid. TJ'd replaced the thing a couple months back when it'd started to smell off, so maybe it was still good.

"You can have some of this. Dunno if it's gone bad." TJ hesitated, but Stanton's eyes lit up.

"Good dip!" Stanton nearly shouted and pulled a thick wad out and shoved it between his gums and lip. His eyes closed in satisfaction, though TJ knew there was no way the tobacco had already made any difference. Even so, TJ squatted down next to the old man.

"Anything you want me to do?"

"Keep an eye out. Not sure if there's more of the bastards out there, and I don't want to get caught again."

"Fine." TJ answered as he shifted back to a coatl and looked around, watching for any approaching pukwudgies. No suspicious sounds or scents appeared, but TJ felt he couldn't trust himself and coiled around the sitting man. He realized that he'd grown at least two feet longer since he'd last thought about it. Now, nearly twenty three feet long, TJ made a several foot wide perimeter around Stanton as he prepared his knife to cut himself. He seemed nearly there, taking three deep breaths, and TJ attempted to add an additional layer of protection as he commanded the winds to whip around them both and send any incoming attacks wide. A veritable tornado appeared above TJ, his feathered mane seeming to flap and send more air into the whirling winds.

Stanton spit dirt from his mouth but didn't complain, instead taking a final deep breath before exhaling a long, controlled breath as his sharp knife cut deep into his side. The old man grunted and winced, but still he cut the flesh from just below his ribs. With a sickening thud, the tissue that ideally held the vast majority of the poison flopped to the ground. TJ wanted to rush forward and offer something to bandage the wound, but Stanton was ready. He ripped a pack of sterilized gauze from his pocket, and without needing to be told to stop it, TJ hushed the winds and stopped his frenetic circling. 

There was no hesitation in Stanton's movements as he pressed the gauze to the wound, held a wrap, and began binding the wrap tightly around his torso. TJ couldn't say how effective the stretchy fabric over his shirt was, but after tying it off, Stanton cursed quietly under his breath.

"You were right, kid." Without further explanation, Stanton took the offered Occupation and seemed almost to glow for a moment. Then, with a sigh, the old man pulled the soaking bandages from his side and peeked at where he'd previously been wounded. Assured by what he saw, Stanton pulled the gauze and wrap away from his skin, and exposed the flawless skin where a gaping wound had previously existed. "Not what I expected to get, though." 

"What's the Occupation?" TJ asked, the excitement nearly purging all the worries and panic from before. 

"Called Druid. Basically a shaman. Kinda hippie shit."

"What were the requirements to get it?"

"Guide someone spiritually, walk in tune with nature, and use natural medicine in a medical procedure." Stanton grunted, seeming unimpressed with what he'd gotten. TJ waited for a time, allowing the other man to acclimate to whatever the new Occupation offered. Eventually, though, he couldn't hold himself back any longer.

"What Skill does it give? And attributes?

"Natural Harmony. I can connect with creatures and plants in the area. Lets me heal a little better, and scout out more effectively. Focuses on Wisdom, Intelligence, Perception, Willpower, and Fixation. Three in each per level."

TJ felt a hint of envy crawl up his spine at the immediate usefulness of the other man's Occupation's Skill as well as its focused attribute distribution compared to his own. Regardless, he was a Savage now, and couldn't change that any time soon, if ever. Instead, he nodded at Stanton. "Glad you got it."

"Thank you. Not sure I agree with this 'Druid' label, but if it helps. Cured the poison as well."

"Think you'll be able to cure yourself again sometime in the future? Does the Skill do that?"

A grunt that TJ took to mean "maybe" was his only answer. Then, without further ado, Stanton pocketed the can of chew and pulled his backpack on. TJ almost asked for it back, but he decided the old man needed it more. More and more, as time passed, TJ remembered Grandpa and his grouchy, self-centered ways. He was a good man, but he could be generally annoying to be around for extended periods of time. That didn't matter now, and TJ was happy to have anyone with him. The thought of getting through the forest to the town without anyone to keep an eye out while he was asleep sounded impossible to survive.

Their little conversation complete, TJ and Stanton resumed their journey, though slower for a couple minutes as Stanton refilled his cylinder with more ammunition. The faint glow from "Suzie" was cold and threatening, leaving a faint hint of smoke behind where the gun trailed through the air. They continued walking for a short time, and TJ eventually couldn't hold back another question.

"If you continue down this road, will you become the druidic gunman god? A macabre deliverer of green death?"

Stanton rubbed his face as he sighed. "Don't know. I can't really think that far ahead. Focused on getting to this town and staying alive."

As he could tell Stanton didn't want to talk, TJ stayed silent. They walked wordlessly through the forest, the ponderosa pines stretching high above and rustling in the wind. The trees' needles constantly dropped from above, coating the trail and the rest of the forest floor alike. Few birds sang, and those that did only did so for a few short moments before nothing else did. Nothing walked through the brush, and it seemed like the only sound other than that of the wind was the crunching of TJ and Stanton's feet on the gravel path. 

With nothing to talk about, TJ's mind drifted to his son. The System assured him that Junior was safe and wouldn't be too traumatized, though TJ couldn't be sure of anything. It hadn't lied to him so far, but that wasn't to say that it wouldn't or couldn't be deceiving him on this most important point. At the end of the Tutorial, he would have the opportunity to prove whether or not the Tutorial was lying. Then, once the "boss" of this all slain, he would finally be able to see Junior. What would he do if it was lying to him, though? It could probably continue to hold Junior's wellbeing over his head indefinitely, so long as he was strung along carefully enough. TJ shook his head, attempting to wrest the dark thoughts from his mind. Instead, he focused on the sounds of his feet on the trail.

Though his feet were leaps and bounds tougher than they'd ever been before, the pointed stones that made up the path they walked jabbed painfully, or at least uncomfortably, with each step. Looking forward, the reddish stone continued for quite a while yet, and TJ knew he'd be stuck walking onward with little to no respite. A life of modestly painful steps was what awaited TJ's future, and he remembered several documentaries he'd watched about people who lived without real shoes. Ideally, his Toughness combined with any other benefit he got from his Occupation would work to offset his meager footwear.

A quiet whistle from Stanton pulled TJ from his ruminations on his feet. As the older man gestured with his head for TJ to look around at something, TJ cursed his wandering mind. TJ strained his ears and eyes, searching for something, any indication of whatever it was that he needed to see. At last, he saw a slight hint of a blurred outline of a pukwudgie. Once he saw one, two others jumped out at him. Then, several more. Before TJ knew it, he could see evidence of no fewer than two dozen pukwudgies. There was no need for further communication, and TJ rushed forward to begin breaking the ambush.