The Wonderful LitRPG Wizard of Oz (LitRPG Classics Book 1) Page 3

  “I understand how you feel,” said the little girl, who was truly sorry for him. “If you will come with me I’ll ask Oz to do all he can for you.”

  “Thank you,” he answered gratefully. “Shall we form a group? Although I’m a level seven Bard, I am not much use with a zero intelligence but perhaps even my small contribution will help you.”

  “Certainly,” said Dorothy and she sent the invitation from her UI, which the Scarecrow promptly accepted.

  They walked back to the road. Dorothy helped him over the fence, and they started along the path of yellow brick for the Emerald City.

  Toto did not like this addition to the party at first. He smelled around the stuffed man as if he suspected there might be a nest of rats in the straw, and he often growled in an unfriendly way at the Scarecrow.

  “Don’t mind Toto,” said Dorothy to her new friend. “He only bites when I command him to.”

  “Oh, I’m not afraid,” replied the Scarecrow. “He can’t hurt the straw. Do let me carry that basket for you. I shall not mind it, for I can’t get tired. I’ll tell you a secret,” he continued, as he walked along. “There is only one thing in the world I am afraid of.”

  “What is that?” asked Dorothy; “the Witch who Cursed and Polymorphed you? Because if so, I have some good news for you.”

  “No,” answered the Scarecrow; “it’s a lighted match.”

  Chapter IV

  The Road Through the Forest

  After a few hours the road began to be rough, and the walking grew so difficult that the Scarecrow often stumbled over the yellow bricks, which were very uneven. Sometimes, indeed, they were broken or missing altogether, leaving holes that Toto jumped across and Dorothy walked around. As for the Scarecrow, having 0 Intelligence, he walked straight ahead, and so stepped into the holes and fell at full length on the hard bricks. It never hurt him, however, and Dorothy would pick him up and set him upon his feet again, while he joined her in laughing merrily at his own mishap.

  The farms were not nearly so well cared for here as they were farther back. There were fewer houses and fewer fruit trees, and the farther they went the more dismal and lonesome the country became.

  At noon they sat down by the roadside, near a little brook, and Dorothy opened her basket and got out some bread. She offered a piece to the Scarecrow, but he refused.

  “I am never hungry,” he said, “and it is a lucky thing I am not, for my mouth is only painted, and if I should cut a hole in it so I could eat, the straw I am stuffed with would come out, and that would spoil the shape of my head.”

  Dorothy saw at once that this was true, so she only nodded and went on eating her bread.

  “Tell me something about yourself and the country you came from,” said the Scarecrow, when she had finished her dinner. So she told him all about Kansas, and how gray everything was there, so gray that it was a gradual Charisma debuff, and how she had just been a level 1 Sorceress with no useful spells and no hope of levelling up until the cyclone had carried her to this queer Land of Oz.

  The Scarecrow listened carefully, and said, “I cannot understand why you should wish to leave this beautiful country where you have a much better chance of levelling up—not to mention magic and treasure—and go back to the dry, gray place you call Kansas, which doesn’t even have a giant rat for you to blow up.”

  “That is because you have forgotten what it was like to be human,” answered the girl. “No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of flesh and blood would rather live there than in any other country, be it ever so beautiful. There is no place like home. Moreover, if I can return home an eighth level Sorceress, I will be the highest level Int-based caster in the state.”

  The Scarecrow sighed.

  “Of course I cannot understand it,” he said. “If you were all Polymorphed, like me, you would probably all go to live in beautiful places, and then Kansas would have no people at all. It is fortunate for Kansas that you remain human.”

  “Won’t you entertain me with a Bardic epic, while we are resting?” asked the child.

  The Scarecrow looked at her reproachfully, and answered:

  “My life has been so upended that I really know nothing whatever of my previous repertoire. I was only Cursed the day before yesterday. What happened before that time is all a blur. I only know I was a human Bard from the grayed-out abilities on my UI. Unluckily, after the Witch Polymorphed me into a figure of straw I was found by a Lawful Evil farmer who reckoned I would be perfect for warding off the giant rats who raided his crops.

  “He began by painting my ears, so that I heard what was going on. There was another of the Witch’s minions with him, and the first thing I heard was the farmer saying, ‘How do you like those ears?’

  “‘They aren’t straight,’ answered the other.

  “‘Never mind,’ said the farmer. ‘They are ears just the same and he will be able to hear the rats,’ which was true enough.

  “‘Now I’ll make the eyes,’ said the farmer. So he painted my right eye, and as soon as it was finished I found myself looking at him and at everything around me with a great deal of curiosity, for this felt like my first glimpse of the world.

  “‘That’s not a very frightening eye,’ remarked the minion who was watching the farmer. ‘Blue paint is too cheerful for scary eyes.’

  “‘I think I’ll make the other a little bigger,’ said the farmer. And when the second eye was done I could see much better than before. Then he made my nose and my mouth so I could shout at the rats. But I did not speak, because at that time I had forgotten what a mouth was for. I had the fun of watching them tie my body and my arms and legs nice and tight; and when they secured my head, at last, I felt very proud, for I thought I was just as good a character as anyone.

  “‘This fellow will scare the rats fast enough,’ said the farmer. ‘And crows too, he looks just like a PC.’

  “‘Why, he was a PC,’ said the other, and I quite agreed with him, because I could see my UI, even if most of the action buttons were grayed out. The farmer carried me under his arm to the cornfield, and tied me tight to a tall stick, where you found me. He and his friend soon after walked away and left me alone.

  “I did not like to be constrained in this way. So I tried to escape. But my feet would not touch the ground, my Escape Artist skill was negative as a result of my zero Intelligence and that penalty for being suspended. I was forced to stay on that pole. It was a lonely life to lead, for I had nothing to think of, having been made such a little while before. Many crows and other birds flew into the cornfield, but as soon as they saw me they flew away again, thinking I was a Munchkin; and I found I could shout at giant rats, causing them to run away. This pleased me and made me hope I could perhaps gain XP, even by tiny increments, or as a reward for a quest fulfilled. But by and by an old crow flew near me, and after looking at me carefully he perched upon my shoulder and said:

  “‘I wonder if that farmer thought to fool me in this clumsy manner. Any crow of sense could see that you are only a prisoner stuffed with straw.’ Then he hopped down at my feet and ate all the corn he wanted. The other birds, seeing he was not harmed by me, came to eat the corn too, so in a short time there was a great flock of them about me.

  “I felt sad at this, for it showed I had no hope of advancing a level after all; but the old crow comforted me, saying, ‘If you only had your Intelligence restored, you would be as good a PC as any of them, and a better character than some of them. A high Intelligence is the only thing worth having in this world, no matter whether one is a crow or a man. Not only does it increase your mana pool, if you are an Int-based caster, but it gives you faster skill increases.’

  “After the crows had gone I thought this over, and decided I would try hard to get my Intelligence back and perhaps my human race too, although an animated straw-man Bard might be an awesome race and class combination: at least in respect to avoiding damage from blunt weapons, stabs and from falling. By good luck y
ou came along and rescued me from the stake, and from what you say I am sure the Great Oz will lift the Curse as soon as we get to the Emerald City.”

  “I hope so,” said Dorothy earnestly, “since you seem anxious to resume your chance of progressing as a Bard.”

  “Oh, yes; I am anxious,” returned the Scarecrow. “It is such an uncomfortable feeling to know one is unable to use the abilities one has unlocked.”

  “Well,” said the girl, “let us go.” And she handed the basket to the Scarecrow.

  There were no fences at all by the roadside now, and the land was rough and untilled. Toward evening they came to a great forest, where the trees grew so big and close together that their branches met over the road of yellow brick. It was almost dark under the trees, for the branches shut out the daylight; but the travelers did not stop, and went on into the forest.

  “If this road goes in, it must come out,” said the Scarecrow, “and as the Emerald City is at the other end of the road, we must go wherever it leads us.”

  “Anyone would know that,” said Dorothy.

  “Certainly; that is why I know it,” returned the Scarecrow. “If it required Intelligence to figure it out, I never should have said it.”

  After an hour or so the light faded away, and they found themselves stumbling along in the darkness. Dorothy could not see at all, but Toto could, for some dogs see very well in the dark; and the Scarecrow declared he could see as well as by day. So she took hold of his arm and managed to get along fairly well.

  “If you see any house, or any place where we can pass the night,” she said, “you must tell me; for it is very uncomfortable walking in the dark.”

  Soon after the Scarecrow stopped.

  “I see a little cottage at the right of us,” he said, “built of logs and branches. Shall we go there?”

  “Yes, indeed,” answered the child. “I am all tired out.”

  The Scarecrow led her through the trees until they reached the cottage, and Dorothy entered and found a bed of dried leaves in one corner. She lay down at once, and with Toto beside her soon fell into a sound sleep. The Scarecrow, who was never tired, stood up in another corner and waited patiently until morning came.

  Chapter V

  The Rescue of the Tin Woman

  When Dorothy awoke the sun was shining through the trees and Toto had long been out chasing birds around him and squirrels: the XP gain when he was successful was tiny, but all progress was worthwhile. She sat up and looked around her. There was the Scarecrow, still standing patiently in his corner, waiting for her.

  “We must go and search for water,” she said to him.

  “Why do you want water?” he asked.

  “To wash my face clean after the dust of the road, and to drink, so the dry bread will not stick in my throat.”

  “It must be inconvenient to be made of flesh,” said the Scarecrow thoughtfully, “for you must sleep, and eat and drink. However, you have Intelligence above zero, and it is worth a lot of bother to be able to think properly.”

  They left the cottage and walked through the trees until they found a little spring of clear water, where Dorothy drank and bathed and ate her breakfast. She saw there was not much bread left in the basket, and the girl was thankful the Scarecrow did not have to eat anything, for there was scarcely enough for herself and Toto for the day.

  When she had finished her meal, and was about to go back to the road of yellow brick, she was startled to hear a deep groan nearby.

  “What was that?” she asked timidly.

  “I cannot imagine,” replied the Scarecrow; “but we can go and see. If it is alive, it might give us XP to kill it.”

  Just then another groan reached their ears, and the sound seemed to come from behind them. They turned and walked through the forest a few steps, when Dorothy discovered something shining in a ray of sunshine that fell between the trees. She ran to the place and then stopped short, with a little cry of surprise.

  One of the big trees had been partly chopped through, and standing beside it, with an uplifted axe in her hands, was a woman made entirely of tin. Her head and arms and legs were jointed upon her body, but she stood perfectly motionless, as if she could not stir at all.

  Dorothy looked at her in amazement, and so did the Scarecrow, while Toto barked sharply and made a snap at the tin legs, which hurt his teeth.

  “Did you groan?” asked Dorothy.

  “Yes,” answered the Tin Woman, “I did. I’ve been groaning for more than a year, and no one has ever heard me before or come to help me.”

  “What can I do for you?” Dorothy inquired softly, for she was moved by the sad voice in which the woman spoke.

  “Get an oil-can and oil my joints,” she answered. “They are rusted so badly that I cannot move them at all; if I am well oiled I shall soon be all right again. You will find an oil-can on a shelf in my cottage.”

  Dorothy at once ran back to the cottage and found the oil-can, and then she returned and asked anxiously, “Where are your joints?”

  “Oil my neck, first,” replied the Tin Woman. So Dorothy oiled it, and as it was quite badly rusted the Scarecrow took hold of the tin head and moved it gently from side to side until it worked freely, and then the woman could turn it herself.

  “Now oil the joints in my arms,” she said. And Dorothy oiled them and the Scarecrow bent them carefully until they were quite free from rust and as good as new.

  The Tin Woman gave a sigh of satisfaction and lowered her axe, which she leaned against the tree.

  “This is a great comfort,” she said. “I have been holding that axe in the air ever since I rusted, and I’m glad to be able to put it down at last. Now, if you will oil the joints of my legs, I shall be all right once more.”

  So they oiled her legs until she could move them freely; and she thanked them again and again for her release, for she seemed a very polite creature, and very grateful.

  “I might have stood there always if you had not come along,” she said; “so you have certainly saved my life. How did you happen to be here?”

  “We are on our way to the Emerald City to see the Great Oz,” Dorothy answered, “and we stopped at your cottage to pass the night.”

  “Why do you wish to see Oz?” the Tin Woman asked.

  “I want him to send me back to Kansas, and the Scarecrow wants him to restore his Intelligence to six,” she replied.

  The Tin Woman appeared to think deeply for a moment. Then she said:

  “Do you suppose Oz could provide an Atonement for me?”

  “Why, I can’t be sure,” Dorothy answered. “Atonement is a divine spell and the Wizard is an arcane spell caster. But he might have powerful friends.”

  “True,” the Tin Woman returned. “So, if you will allow me to join your party, I will also go to the Emerald City and ask Oz to help me.”

  “Come along,” said the Scarecrow heartily, and Dorothy sent a group invite from her UI, adding that she would be pleased to have her company. So the Tin Woman shouldered her axe and they all passed through the forest until they came to the road that was paved with yellow brick.

  The Tin Woman had asked Dorothy to put the oil-can in her basket. “For,” she said, “if I should get caught in the rain, and rust again, I would need the oil-can badly.”

  It was a bit of good luck to have their new comrade join the party, for soon after they had begun their journey again they came to a place where the trees and branches grew so thick over the road that the travelers could not pass. But the Tin Woman set to work with her axe and chopped so well that soon she cleared a passage for the entire party.

  Dorothy was thinking so earnestly as they walked along that she did not notice when the Scarecrow stumbled into a hole and rolled over to the side of the road. Indeed he was obliged to call to her to help him up again.

  “Why didn’t you walk around the hole?” asked the Tin Woman.

  “I don’t know enough,” replied the Scarecrow cheerfully. “My head is stu
ffed with straw, you know, and that is why I am going to Oz to ask him for some Intelligence.”

  “Oh, I see,” said the Tin Woman. “But, after all, Intelligence is not the best attribute in the world.”

  “Have you a high Intelligence?” inquired the Scarecrow.

  “No, my head is quite empty, it’s only five,” answered the Tin Woman. “But I have a Constitution of seventeen; and I’m quite convinced that’s the better stat to raise for me.”

  “And why is that?” asked the Scarecrow.

  “I will tell you my story, and then you will know.”

  So, while they were walking through the forest, the Tin Woman told the following story:

  “I was born human, the daughter of a woodman who chopped down trees in the forest and sold the wood for a living. When I grew up, I became a level one Paladin, and after my father died I took care of my old mother as long as she lived. Then I made up my mind that instead of living alone I would marry, so that I might not become lonely.

  “There was one of the Munchkin boys who was so beautiful that I soon grew to love him with all my heart. He, on his part, promised to marry me as soon as I reached level five and unlocked Angelic Aspect; so I set to levelling up harder than ever. But the boy lived with an old woman who did not want him to marry anyone, for she was so lazy she wished the boy to remain with her and do the cooking and the housework. So the old woman went to the Wicked Witch of the East, and promised her two sheep and a cow if she would prevent the marriage. Thereupon the Wicked Witch enchanted my axe with Malice, and when I was grinding away at a goblin camp one day, for I was anxious to get the new house and my husband as soon as possible, the axe slipped all at once and cut off my left leg.

  “This at first seemed a great misfortune, for I knew a one-legged woman could not do very well as a Paladin. So I went to a grandmaster gnomish Tinkerer and had him make me a magical new leg out of tin. The leg worked very well, once I was used to it. But my action angered the Wicked Witch of the East, for she had promised the old woman I should not marry the handsome Munchkin boy. When I began grinding again—Goblin scouts mostly, some warriors—my axe slipped and cut off my right leg. Again I went to the tinsmith, and again he made me a leg out of tin. After this the enchanted axe cut off my arms, one after the other; but, nothing daunted, I had them replaced with tin ones. The Wicked Witch then made the axe slip and cut off my head, and at first I thought that was the end of me. But the Tinkerer had developed a strong curiosity about me—not to say friendship—and had a priest play Raise Dead after having made me a new head out of tin.