For a horrifying second, all he saw was white. He thought the rope anchoring him to the wagon would snap, sending him flying into the stratosphere. But no. His agility kept him light as air.
The rope didn’t break.
I’m alive? I’m alive!
Then gravity hit. He smmed into the ground.
[-2 HP]
He groaned as vision returned to him. Rob was directly in front of him, hands on the horse bridle, while Lena was leaning to the side to provide bance. Their wagon was rocking, swaying, falling apart.
Levin and Bimbleton were, too, their fancy vehicle slipping, the greased parts turning it into a death trap that was close to spiralling any second. Still, they were neck and neck.
Bimbleton made his move.
With a flick of his hand, he did something. Table was not sure what he did; not sure even Bimbleton himself knew what he did. His wagon jerked to the side. It was impossible to stabilize himself.
Probably tried to cheat.
Ahead, Elviswood hit a huge bump. But it stayed grounded. It didn’t even jump one bit. Not a single scratch.
What the hell is this sturdiness…
Table was also heading straight for a massive bump of his own. He had 2 HP left.
I’m done for.
But at the st second, there was a twitch.
Just the smallest movement. A shift in his weight occurred, and the angle changed just enough. He didn’t know if he had done anything on purpose.
He just shifted.
[MASSIVE LEAP UNDER DURESS]
[+4 AGI]
Instead of colpsing, the bump propelled him slightly upward.
He nded unscathed. Strands of the rope started to fray, but it was still holding. For now.
I moved? I moved!
Bimbleton growled into Levin’s ear. “Pick up the speed!” His bellow was blown away by the whooshing sounds of the wind.
“But Sir, the wheels—”
“MORE! MORE! Pick up the damn speed! Lose them!”
As the wagon jolted forward, Bimbleton grabbed whatever loose objects he could find in the cargo and started hurling them at Rob and Lena’s wagon, aiming for the wheels. A silver goblet spun through the air. Missed. A wooden pte whizzed past. Missed.
Bimbleton reached for another object without looking.
Levin grimaced. “Sir, I don’t think—” A bat nded on his face with a thunk, and he slumped forward, completely unconscious.
Bimbleton’s eyes bulged. “Oh, you useless—!” He lunged for the bridle, grabbing it in a panic. The moment his hands touched the reins, the horses veered to the left, neighing in unison.
Table wasn’t sure what command Bimbleton was trying to give the horses, but all he heard was. “AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!” melded with a side of “NEIGHHHHHHH!”
The wagon careened across the road like a drunken goose, barely missing a rock as Bimbleton continued to howl.
Rob was obviously the less experienced wagon driver, always gging behind Levin by a tail. However, he had a trick up his sleeve. The moment he closed the distance, he pulled something from his pocket and threw it into Bimbleton’s cargo. “Sorry, cousin,” he said.
A tiny, wriggling creature nded with a soft plop onto the wooden surface.
Clint Eatswood. Bimbleton’s very own prized termite. The little menace wasted no time. The moment it touched the cargo, it sunk its tiny mandibles into the wood and started chomping.
“Rob, you bastard. AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
Table told himself, If I’m gonna go, I’ll make sure to not be like that guy Bimbleton.
He locked onto the road ahead. A jagged rock? He flexed his nonexistent abs and subtly shifted his weight, letting the impact roll under him instead of smming into the side. A deep puddle? He adjusted the angle of his bance just in time, narrowly avoiding a spsh that could’ve sent him sliding off the path. An aggressive bump? He flinched just enough to allow the momentum to lift him.
It was precision. It was instinct. It was mastercss.
PECK.
[-1 HP]
The damn chicken was back.
He now had 1 HP left. He was battered, bruised, broken. If he was a veteran, he would have received an Honorary Medal of the Highest Order by now.
Luckily for him, the end of the path was in sight.
The cargo hurtled forward, and the grease-coated wheels screeched in protest as they reached the turning point.
“Rob! Slow down!” Lena’s voice rang sharp over the chaos.
Table’s mind whirred. No! If they slowed down too much, they’d fall behind by at least ten wagon lengths. That would be an instant loss!
Rob pulled the bridle and coerced the horses to halt. Mud and dust flung themselves in all directions as the wagon wobbled dangerously out of control. They had gged behind.
Bimbleton saw his chance.
With a victorious sneer, he yanked his bridle and lunged forward. However, the termite had done its work. The link between his wheels and cargo was hanging by a thread.
The moment his wagon jerked ahead, the weakened wood gave out with a sickening crack. His wheels were already compromised, which made it struggle against the slick ground. He didn’t calcute the distance correctly.
“Nooooooooooooooo—”
His wagon smmed straight into the fence with a snap.
The fancy rope snapped.
With overwhelming force, his wagon gyrated into a perfect, spiraling spin. The Elviswood table, still beautifully intact and beautifully deep in color, was unched from the cargo bed, heading straight to the sky.
It soared.
And soared.
And soared.
Nobody ever saw it again.
The butler approached atop a horse that leisurely strolled closer to the wagons that had stopped. One wheel of Rob and Lena’s cargo was teetering like a see-saw, the axles groaned with every slight movement. Dust and mud coated every inch, and loose splinters jutted out where the wood had scraped against the rope that secured Table. It had almost snapped.
Bimbleton’s cargo ceased to exist. From the wreckage, a heap of splintered wood and broken wheels, a muffled groan emerged. A hand, cd in an exquisite but now tattered glove, cwed its way out of the debris. Bimbleton, with his powdered wig askew and half his coat missing, dragged himself free. “Did I win?” he asked as he spat out a mouthful of splinter and sawdust. After that, Levin wriggled out of a wooden pnk broken in half.
The butler announced with perfect composure, “And the winners are… Robert and Lena Oakward!”
CONGRATS. [QUEST COMPLETED: Prove Your Worth!]
A triumphant chime rang in Table’s mind. A golden notification appeared before him.
His eyes widened when he looked at the reward.
REWARD: +5 END, +5 AGI, +12 EXP
Beginner-Level Skill Acquired: Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees)
[LEVEL UP!]
[HP FULLY RESTORED!]
[+5 ATTRIBUTE POINTS]
He was as good as new.
The dull sting of bruises? Gone. The sharp ache from his earlier impacts? Vanished. Even the deep scratches that had scraped across his surface, the ones he was certain would leave sting marks, had smoothed over as if they had never existed.
Not sure how Rob was going to try and expin how they had plowed a table across the field and it ended up looking better than before.
Well, not my problem. Now, I celebrate.
NameTableRaceAnimated Furniture (Table)CssNoneLevel2EXP7/50HP11/11MP0STR3END10 (+5)AGI18 (+4)PER11 (+5)SkillsAppraisal (Level 1)
Adjustable Angle (2 Degrees)
