3x Cloning System: The Fleshmancer's Undead Army is full of Heroes-Chapter 36: The Stache

One week went by fast.

They came to discover that traveling was easy, albeit boring, when one didn’t have to fight monsters along the way.

Being attacked by that Basher Basilisk was unfortunate, and it was quite expensive for Clayton too, but everything beyond that point was easy.

They camped about five times during the trip, so they could rest, and eat.

Lara was quite useful in that matter. Well, they still had to sleep in make-shift branch beds, as there was no building out here in the wilderness, but Lara did make sure everyone was fed.

She lured in creatures, such as big, lonely male boars with the aid of her magic, through illusions, and then she put them to sleep. Initially she planned to scare their meals to death, but she went the opposite way when she noticed that Rufus loved the idea. She did not want to share the same ideology with that man, as she didn’t want to sink that low in life.

No, she put the boars to sleep, a deep coma, really, and then slit their throats. The boars, their meals, bled out, and ran out of oxygen after a minute or so. They were given peaceful deaths, and were put into use.

Fresh boar meat kept the team going. It kept them well fed, though it did take a while to cook them over a fire.

Clayton was stunned to discover that his undead slaves could get hungry as well. They needed food and water to survive, or simply function properly. If they didn’t eat, they got tired, and disoriented.

It wasn’t like they had a long life ahead of them, so there was nearly no point in keeping them fed, but at least they were not picky. Other than Esmeralda, who demanded good food, the rest of the undead slaves would eat anything, bone and all. They were very useful when it came to getting rid of the excess food, as boars were usually too big, too fatty for the team to consume by themselves.

Anyway, they made it to the village, but Clayton had decided to take a soft approach.

The undead slaves were waiting somewhere across the river that pierced through the lands, hidden in bushes. His slaves didn’t need to step into the village themselves, as they would cause too much unnecessary panic.

Villagers would try to kill them, and if that was to happen, he had to kill the villagers.

He tried to avoid that. He simply wanted to buy a few horses, four maybe.

To his surprise, the village had an Inn. A small one, granted, but they served beer, and had a few available rooms for travelers.

"The Hell?" Rufus squinted, "When did you grow hair, shorty? You were bald a moment ago."

"What do you mean?" Lara asked, "You lost your nut. I always had hair."

Lara then brushed her luscious, coal-black hair aside, dramatically, as to emphasize her beauty. She did not care to elaborate.

"I suppose you need a drink most of all, Rufus," Clayton smiled, "Did you forget what she is capable of? You must know that boar meat doesn’t fall from the sky?"

"Oh, right," Rufus sighed, though embarrassment has been eluding him for years, so he didn’t care. "I need a drink. You’re paying."

"Of course," Clayton said, "But be quiet. You need to remember where we are."

"Right right," Rufus said, and walked away.

Clayton was hoping that his friend wouldn’t cause any drama, because he didn’t want his short visit within this village to lead to a blood bath.

Rufus was too expressive, and he didn’t care what he said. In a village that might see one or two travelers a week, a man like Rufus would reek of trouble. People were cautious around him, because he was a tall man for one thing, but it didn’t help that he also ran his mouth quite freely. Clayton could only hope for the best at this point.

Anyway, they sat in front of the wooden bar. This Inn wasn’t exactly extravagant. It was cheap.

They discovered that it was cheap, when they had to sit in short stools. Chairs were either a luxury here, or the villagers acted like chairs weren’t discovered yet.

"Hahahahahaha!" Rufus broke out laughing.

"Quit that!" Lara hastily stood up from the stool. "It’s not my fault the stools are short!"

"Of course not," Rufus wiped a tear away.

Then he looked at the Inn Keeper, and said, "Two beers, my good man, and an apple juice for my daughter here."

"Fuck you!" She punched Rufus on the gut. "I want a beer too! I’m twenty five!"

"Don’t you have a chair our friend could use?" Clayton asked the Inn Keeper, "I don’t want to push any limits, but as you can see, my friends are too immature to sit on stools."

"Right," The Inn Keeper smiled.

Afterwards, he went into one of the empty, available rooms, and dragged a chair out towards Lara.

To everyone’s surprise, he grabbed Lara by the shoulders, lifted her up as if she was ten pounds, and sat her on the chair. He then pushed the chair towards the wooden bar, and walked around it. One would assume that he drew power from his white, big mustache, but his hunky forearms said otherwise.

"Quite some strength you have," Clayton added.

"I was a farmer," He answered.

"Bahahahahahahahaha!" Rufus couldn’t stop himself from laughing.

He fell off of his stool.

"Should I be giving him beer?" The Inn Keeper asked, "I don’t want to bother knocking him out if he becomes a handful."

"Trust me," Clayton stretched his words, two of his veins visible on his forehead. "I’ll knock him out myself if he keeps this up buffoonery."

"Buffoonery..." Rufus repeated, and stopped laughing.

"Buffalo," He blurted, "Bacon... man, I really need a beer."

The Inn Keeper was learning to ignore Rufus. He could tell that there was no talking to him, and he was hoping that he didn’t have to knock him out.

Anyway, he poured out three beers on these large, glass cups, and slid them over to his customers.

"What brings you to our little village?" He asked.