Hunter’s Guild: An Announcement for All Citizens of Dunstan
Hey folks, just a quick announcement for all non-approved hunters/non-licensed citizenry when it comes to turning in bounties; you cannot do so. If you have not been approved by the proper channels, all claims brought to guild premises are summarily forfeit upon stepping into any guild hall.
We are making this announcement due to the recent influx of people unaware of this fact, and we believe that it would be best for all parties involved to be aware of the consequences that follow after attempting an illegal bounty claim.
We have a relatively short waiting list when it comes to approval to join our organization, so we recommend signing up before you attempt to incriminate yourself by accident. This is not something we can prevent, as we are required to report any and all crimes committed on our properties.
Royal law decrees that it is highly dangerous and irregular for average citizens to participate in monster slaying in the first place, so please be careful out there.
For more safety tips on how to handle monsters legally, you can find an extensive list on self-defense from a myriad number of monsters by checking out the guild handbook, free copies of which are located at every guild hall in the country.
While you’re at it, don’t hesitate to join, as it could be what saves you and your family from certain death. Proper certification is what separates the professionals from the riff-raff, after all.
Happy Hunting,
Dunstan Branch of the Hunter’s Guild
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Sam opened his eyes, attempting to clear out the crusty feeling he could feel accumulating around his lids. He blinked blearily, noticing that for the second time in as many days, someone had rudely awoken him at a time of morning that he didn’t appreciate. This time however, it was Sakir that greeted him, his green exoskeleton coloring the minor amount of sunlight that peeked its way into Sam’s tent.
“Samuel.” The clicking nature of Sakir’s alien speech pattern still grated against Sam’s ears, but it was tolerable. “We have training in an hour. Your presence is expected in a timely manner.” Sam could only wearily nod his head. “In the future, I will not personally come to awaken you from your beauty slumber. There will be consequences if you cannot account for your own schedule with your own time. Is that understood?” Sam coughed as he sat upright from his pile of blankets on the tent floor, rising up until he did the best salute he could manage.
“Sir, yes sir.” He wasn’t entirely sure if that was right or not, and it bothered him that he couldn’t call Sakir by whatever his official rank was, but it seemed to do the trick. In an approximation of what Sam could only think of as a nod, Sakir ducked underneath the opening of the tent flap and wandered off to likely find more people that hadn’t woken up for the day. Only as he left did Sam acknowledge the terrible ache he felt over every surface and crevice of his body.
The training from the previous day had not been kind to him, and there were places across his skin and muscles that felt sore that, previous to this moment, he hadn’t known he could feel pain. It was almost as if Marik had beaten him right before he laid down to sleep. No matter what position he assumed, he could feel that his body would continue to protest. Wearily, he gathered what he needed for the morning to begin, secured his tent closed with a slightly more sophisticated attempt at a knot, and made his way to the showers.
A brief dip in glacier water later, Sam felt relatively refreshed and clean. He had decided to brush his teeth while in the shower considering his lack of hygiene the previous night, and had even noticed other men waiting for their turn carrying toothbrushes, obviously intent on doing the same. He made his way back to his tent, got dressed from the small pile of uniforms that was rapidly dwindling, and made his way back to the field from the previous day.
Upon his arrival, he found that he had accomplished his self-appointed tasks for the morning with enough speed that the majority of his fellow squad members were nowhere to be found. The only people he saw on the field were a number of soldiers who had taken the opportunity of being free from command oversight to nap in the morning sun. Weren’t we all just asleep though? I can’t imagine already needing to go to bed again… He suppressed a yawn seeing the multitude of bodies relaxing in the soft grass, and internally shrugged at his blatant contradiction.
Idling, he wondered if he should’ve stopped to find some kind of breakfast around camp, and then considered that he would have had no idea where to look. Would it be the same place that he got dinner at? He assumed so, but was hesitating due to feeling that he could be wrong. Of course, he entertained the idea of asking strangers where to go, but his own lack of social awareness made him reticent. Pondering what to do while waiting, he couldn’t help the grimace that he quickly tried to hide when he made eye contact with a rapidly approaching Touhien.
It wasn’t that his opinion of the dwarf had changed overnight, but rather that his evaluation of the man’s training style was trending negatively. His body still hurt, and the cold shower he had endured only recently didn’t help in that department whatsoever. Seeing his look, Touhien acknowledged his mistake with Sam even mentioning it. “I forgot one important thing when it comes to training, lad. You always have to stretch before you get started, and it is my fault for assuming you had already done so when we began before.”
Without any preamble, the dwarf began to stretch his muscles, assuming many familiar positions for long stretches at a time. As he did so, he continually made eye contact with Sam until the boy finally started copying him. When Sam complained about the fact that Sakir hadn’t even shown up to begin their training for the day officially, the dwarf could only scoff.
“I think that you will find gratitude more forthcoming when you do not experience the same aches and pains that you did before. Not to mention, training is important if you want to avoid death.” He reached his arms over his head, holding one in place with the other, and switching back and forth until he felt both were sufficiently loose. “The stretching is just an added bonus.” The dwarf grinned past his bushy beard, one still neatly kept in place with what Sam assumed to be small pieces of rope.
Made of twisting braids that extended for almost half his body height, the beard seemed more impractical for battle than anything. At the same time, Sam was no soldier or veteran to assess what constituted as being battle-ready, so he supposed it was inappropriate to evaluate anything on the matter to begin with.
“Now that we are all warmed up, what say we get back to learning some stances?” The gleam in the dwarf’s eyes was not dispelled by Sam’s glare, seeming to only glow brighter when his frown did not disappear. “Fine.” Sam couldn’t help the moodiness he felt in his own tone, and could only sigh as he got back to what seemed to be his fate for the time being: practice.
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Sam panted in the glare of the mid-afternoon sun, the rays of heat beating down on his sweat-soaked back. Much like many others around him on the surrounding practice field, he had stripped himself down to pants and boots to beat off the heat, but the combination of what felt like the most intense workout he had ever experienced alongside a bright spring day felt like hell. He knew this was nothing close to a summer back home, and yet he couldn’t stop wheezing from the dryness he felt despite being covered in moisture.
Touhien had made sure that he stayed hydrated throughout the day, and the dwarf seemed to take pleasure at what seemed like a more relaxed pace of training compared to his normal schedule. Just barely, Sakir had called an end to the day’s training for their squad, one that came only slightly earlier than yesterday’s. Sam, determined to find his way to a better activity for the rest of his day compared to falling on his ass over and over, asked Sakir what the rest of his schedule was supposed to look like.
“Andrew has not determined what our squad’s new labor assignment will be yet, as he has deigned to give us a break until you ‘find your feet’. In the meantime, the rest of the squad is taking this as leisure time away from their normal tasks, so our current ‘objective’ as it were, is to relax. You can use this time for anything you’re wanting to do.” Sakir turned away from Sam to attend to another soldier probing him on something, leaving Sam to contemplate what that meant for him. If he was free to do anything at that given moment, what would he do?
A grin stole across his face as he thought about it, as he decided on the only entertaining thing he could think of. Getting answers from the one person that would truly understand where his questions were coming from.
Minutes later, Sam arrived at exactly where he remembered Andrew’s tent to be, having only been waylaid when he had to find a route around a group of men carefully balancing rocks on what had apparently been their sleeping friend, one that had fallen asleep right in the middle of the dirt path around the tents. Due to the layout of the structures and how some of them had been seated right next to each other, it had taken Sam a few moments longer than he expected.
As Sam got closer to the tent and wondered how he was supposed to announce himself properly, considering the lack of any wood to knock upon, he heard faint talking coming from inside. It sounded as if Andrew were speaking with a superior, so Sam decided to wait until their conversation was done so he wouldn’t be interrupting. After several minutes, he began to question the wisdom of his course of action as his stationary position had allowed the sun to begin the process of cooking his skin.
His pale complexion had already suffered a fair amount of sunburn over the past two days, and he decided that it would be unwise to let his skin go from lobster red to charred, so he sat in the shadow of the tent as he awaited the conversation's end. As he sat there and tried to just relax in the shade of the tent, his mind wandered. He began to think about something other than his current situation, and possibly due to the droning nature of the conversation behind him, he closed his eyes and remembered.
Remembered late nights sitting in his room, listening to his dad arguing on the phone with his divorce lawyer. He hadn’t learned who it was until a lot later in life, and it saddened him to think about it even now. He remembered times spent with his dad sleeping on the couch, sitting next to him as late night TV mindlessly buzzed in the background. The sizzle of a cigarette being put out, the sound of a beer being popped open, the sobbing in the middle of the night…
His dad’s mental health had deteriorated after the settlement, and it was no wonder. She had taken everything she could get her hands on, the only thing she left behind willingly had been Sam himself. No, she had only cared about getting what she could out of the equity they had after she decided to cut ties. And it broke his dad’s spirit.
He wasn’t sure what about it had hit him so hard, but he knew that he hadn’t been able to cope. Some called it weakness, but Sam had viewed it as the only way his dad seemed to know how to deal with the pain. He never let his addictions afflict Sam in any way, like he went out of his way to insure they didn’t.
He had never abused Sam. Maybe it was never in him, that he wasn’t the kind of angry drunk he had read so many horror stories about online. He never stooped that low. Yet, in Sam’s child-like understanding of the world, he had sometimes wished that his dad would. Just so he wouldn’t hear that incessant crying. That weeping had been present every night, no matter how hard he tried to plug his ears. He could hear it from anywhere in the house, no matter where he went.
He had wondered that if he woke up with bruises in the morning, that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to go to bed the next night, listening to his dad weeping. That sound had been ever-present, and it hurt him more than anything physical ever could. At least, that was how he had felt about it at the time.
As he got older, he realized what a stupid assessment that had been. Hope your dad beats you so he stops crying? The chances that the mental scarring inflicted on both of them would have been worse than any emotional anguish his father had felt. So, Sam learned to deal with his dad being constantly inebriated. With feeling that no matter what he said, that he never really felt heard.
His dad cared despite the way he treated himself, always trying his best to keep Sam supported. And he only recognized now that, despite the average teenage reaction to a loving parent being that of anger and distancing oneself, he missed him. More than he had considered in the last week of being here, wherever the hell here was. He missed his dad, more than his friends, more than his phone or the internet. He knew that even if he was in the military back home, that at the very least he had his dad to fall back on. To call and interact with.
At that moment, Sam felt alone. More deeply and intensely than anything before, surrounded by thousands of young men his age. He was alone in an echo chamber of his own thoughts, unable to perceive anything but his own desire. I’m sorry dad. Please, let this just be a nightmare, and I’ll go to school tomorrow. I’ll stop complaining. Please… I want to go home.
But he didn’t open his eyes to the popcorn ceiling of his dingy bedroom. He didn’t smell bacon and eggs frying as his dad cooked him breakfast before he went to work. He didn’t hear the extreme tiredness and love in his dad’s voice as he wished him a good day at school.
He opened his eyes to the sight of his tightly clenched fists, white from being clenched so tightly. Dust and mud abounded in the air, and the smell of unwashed bodies commingling with cleaned ones, alongside the smells of what seemed to be oils meant for weapon maintenance. And he heard nothing save for the wind. And the soft sound of someone breathing.
Looking up, he saw a man looming over his hunched frame, his reddish-brown hair blowing in the wind that had picked up around him. He stared down in silence, likely taking note of the tears falling from Sam’s face. “Come on in, kid.” Sniffling quietly, Sam got up and found his way to the stool he had sat only a short few days prior. Sitting down on his creaking cot, Andrew stared at Sam as he waited for him to start talking.
Sam, wondering what to say, decided to be truthful. “I just miss my dad. I didn’t get to even leave with a goodbye. Just poof, and I was here.” He looked up at Andrew’s scruffy face, and wondered about his situation. “Did that happen to you too?” A grimace of discomfort crossed over Andrew’s face before he smoothed out his emotions, seeming to decide to share something he obviously hadn’t previously wanted to.
“No, it was a bit different. I got to come here with someone, somebody I cared about more than anyone else.” He idly lit a small magical flame in the palm of his hand, its shimmering incandescence dancing across his features. It danced back and forth, almost as if the fire had a body to contort as it pleased. “When it came to an end, though, I didn’t get to say goodbye. So I get what ya mean.” With a flick of his wrist, the flame died in his palm.
“It’s hard accepting loss. I know a thing about it because I’ve been around for long enough, but this is probably the first time you’ve had to deal with it, right?” Sam nodded solemnly, eyes downcast at the thought of never seeing his father again. Then, he questioned himself once more, and felt a tiny light of hope ignite itself in his heart. “What if that isn’t it though? My dad isn’t dead. I could still see him. There’s gotta be some way to go back.” Andrew only shook his head in what seemed like exhaustion, and Sam felt an immense darkness fall over that internal light.
“I tried. For years, I looked. I wanted to go home just as bad as you do, at least after what had happened, but I never found anybody who could help me. One time, I managed to find the ‘world’s greatest space mage’, or so he proclaimed himself. When I proposed what I was hoping to accomplish, he could only look at me with pity. He said something along the lines of ‘Many people have asked the same, but I have had to turn them all away. It's simply not feasible.’”
Andrew’s face seemed haggard now, more drained recounting the story than Sam had ever seen him. His body was more slumped than before, and Sam realized that he had inadvertently brought down both of their moods with his desires. It only made him feel worse. He turned to what his original purpose in coming here was, hoping that at least he could get some answers.
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“Well, if you don’t mind, I wouldn’t mind talking about something else for a minute.” “By all means, go right ahead. What do ya wanna know?” “I guess I’m just curious about a lot of things. I don’t really know what it is that I want answers to most of the time, but I guess the thing I’m most curious about is magic.” Andrew raised an eyebrow, flourishing a small flame that he produced from the palm of his hand. “I assume ya mean this, right?” He offered forth the sight of his magical flame, and Sam could only stare in wonder, his sadness forgotten.
“That’s real? You’re not using a lighter or something? I’ve seen enough magic tricks to know that it's really easy to pull off.” At this, Andrew smirked and raised his index finger up into the air, at which point the flame jumped from the palm of his other hand to dance upon the other finger’s tip. It swirled in a mesmerizing motion, moving from side to side, then settled back down to the size of a candle’s flame.
“I’m not really interested in educating ya on the finer matters of mana control, but I’m sure ya can find somebody willing to help ya. If ya head west for around a mile or so, ya should find some more permanent buildings compared to tent city over here. If ya ask around, ya should be able to find our resident mage corps, where somebody should be willing to assist ya. If not, tell ‘em to refer themselves over to me so I can have a stern talking-to.” At this, Andrew grinned, evidently taking delight in the thought of dressing someone down.
“Why would you do that though? It’s not like they’re obligated to help me, are they?” Andrew groaned, evidently remembering something he had previously forgotten about. “It’s part of the induction you’re supposed to go through when ya join, and they’re required by command from on high to fulfill their ‘magely responsibilities’. Basically, they’ll do an aptitude test or some shit, and then they have to teach ya what that means since you’re not from around here.”
“Is that all, kid?” Sam nodded, feeling that he didn’t want to bring down either of their emotional states by talking about his feelings any further. That’s not what you do with another man, anyway. “Welp, I oughta get back to work here kid. Have fun learning and shit, whatever you kids do nowadays.”
He smiled at his poor attempt at humor, and ushered Sam out of the tent. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure ya get some work to do besides training. To help keep your mind off of things.” With that, Andrew stepped back inside, leaving Sam to wonder if he would be ok with getting assigned manual labor to forget about his predicament. With hope that there would be magic in his near future, he set off.
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Having hiked for what felt like forever considering how many times he had to turn to not run over tents, Sam finally arrived at what Andrew had referred to as more permanent residencies. The truth of this became apparent when he noted that all of the buildings he was looking at were composed of a similar stone that the showers were made from, but with far smoother compositions. They seemed boxy in their style of architecture, and were far more utilitarian than what he had expected.
Of course, they were in the middle of what would soon become a battlefield according to Andrew, so Sam supposed that being brutish and squat would make sense. They were likely only put there as a temporary measure, likely being deconstructed in the future for wherever the army would be heading next. They were not composed of brick and mortar as one would expect, but were smooth from top to bottom. So, deconstructing them would be more akin to a demolition project, Sam surmised.
Arrangement-wise, the buildings were formatted in a very clear and organized way. On the left-hand side, or southern side if he were taking into account directions provided by Andrew, there was a row of very similar buildings. All around the same size, they were gray block cubes, with some extra ornamentation added on the front of every building to denote their purpose. None had windows, opting to instead implement open holes to the outside world instead of supplementing glass. Maybe bugs aren’t that big a problem in this part of camp?
This trend continued in a straight line for a dozen or so buildings, and at the end of this line there sat several massive warehouses. Unlike the other buildings found on Dirt Avenue, each of these behemoth structures housed a large contingent of guards. Soldiers, in similar uniform to Sam himself, stood at relative attention in front of the many entrances around each of the buildings. They were armed with an assortment of long-reach weaponry, ranging from halberds and spears to pikes and, even in one soldier’s case, a lance.
Boasting large hangar doors that could easily fit airplanes if they existed here, the inside of the buildings were open to the air. The guts of the buildings were, unsurprisingly, filled with supplies on stone shelving meant to supplement the entirety of the street he stood on, as well as the rest of the army if he had to guess. Soldiers in the same livery as everyone on guard could be seen as small shapes against large cargo loads they moved into wagons, and the sheer breadth of organization required to make this all run blew Sam away.
The lighting of the buildings he could see were far more steady than he expected, obviously opting for something more reliable than candle or lantern light. Easing forward to a building close to him, Sam could see that these lighting fixtures were in fact the very same crystals he had seen in the showers. Instead of spewing forth water, however, they emitted a gentle light that seemed to be variable in color. Most buildings maintained a soft yellow shade of illumination, at least from what he could glean.
Moving forward down the street, Sam could see that the northern side of the street followed the same trend as its mirror, save for a building standing apart from the rest that broke the trend. It was close to Sam, being as far away from the rest of the buildings as possible without being exposed, and it bore a shorter stature than its already dwarfed brethren.
Inside, he could see the tell-tale glow of forges and heated metal getting worked upon anvils, and quickly realized that he was looking at a massive smithy. It was far larger than he expected these kinds of structures to be, and he could see that easily a dozen smiths were hard at work under the stone structure. Each of them had at least two helpers standing to the side, and Sam realized that they were likely a squad of soldiers assigned in being apprenticed to and assisting the smiths.
The open floor plan of the building, with each forge separated from the others by a dozen feet at least, allowed for heat to be far more easily dispersed, but brought the problem of dust and particulates being able to easily enter their efforts on the metal. As Sam watched, a gust of wind picked up some of the prevalent dirt all around, and blew it with a vengeance towards the forges of the smiths. Only to have the dust stop, and flow around the entirety of the forge. As it did so, similar symbols to those found on his tent walls flared with inner light for a moment, before dimming back into an inert state. Magic!
Sam stared in awe, and resolved that he would be learning magic as quickly as he could if it would allow him to achieve feats such as that. It had been simple, yet defied logic in ways that made him giddy with excitement. If he could do the same, nothing was impossible. Well, within reason I guess. Which would make that only what’s possible. Eh.
Eagerly, Sam walked forward to find what Andrew had called the mage corps. As he walked past the fronts of the buildings on either side, he noted that the majority seemed to be very simple in purpose. He saw a sign that showed images attempting to describe what he could only assume were potions, and guessed that this was the location of the ‘hack job alchemist’ Touhien had complained about.
Adjacent to that building, he could see through the glaringly open holes in the wall that there was an assortment of secretaries and office workers behind a long counter in another building. What they did there, he wasn’t entirely sure about, but they seemed quite busy.
Only as he looked did he realize that the majority of the people he saw inside were women, and he finally managed to see his first girl in literal ages. That made him nervous, as he had never really been that confident in talking to most women unless they were a teacher or something similar. Hopefully, he wouldn’t end up talking to a female mage.
He continued to stare inside buildings, primarily seeing more situations similar to the office-like building he had seen earlier. Evidently, a larger portion of the work necessary to keep supply chains running and command from collapsing went on around here, but that was only a semi-educated guess on Sam’s part.
Eventually, he found one that differed from the others. When he looked inside, he found an open workshop of sorts, filled with an arrangement of tools and materials that were distinctly foreign to Sam’s eyes. It wasn’t that everything inside was alien, but rather that just enough of it was odd for him to question what they’re purposes were.
He saw small piles of metal arranged on tables and the floor, hammers and saws and all manner of tools meant for working those piles of metal. Nails, nuts and bolts, springs in all different shapes and sizes, it all seemed familiar and yet still odd. Almost as if someone had blended the look of a metal shop with a far more ancient cobbler’s workstation.
Inside, he found a number of people toiling over a single project together, their backs turned to the outside world. Deciding not to intrude, Sam continued walking.
He finally found what he was looking for when he found what appeared to be a barracks of sorts. He was confused as to why it housed multiple bunk beds and other living arrangements inside, until he noticed that all of those inside seemed different from the other people he had met. Instead of the normal utilitarian garb the rest of the soldiers sported, these people wore far more intricately inscribed clothing.
It was still canvas-like in its fabrication, at least from what he could see, but it contained more of the shifting runes Sam had seen from before in other locations. If that wasn’t magical in nature, he would eat his dusty boots. Probably not, but he would consider it.
Outside, staring at Sam as he had so casually stared at people evidently trying to sleep, was a woman far past her prime. Her gray hair swayed in the wind, the wisps of her scalp blending into the light because of their fine color. She leaned against the smooth stone with a relaxed posture, with what looked like a small cylindrical crystal held between her fingers.
Its tip was lit with an internal glow, a shocking blue that seemed like electricity arcing back and forth inside. Pulling it up to her lips, she closed her eyes as she dragged on it, the same way he had seen his dad do so many times. Sam could see the light dim as she seemed to absorb whatever energy laid inside.
Looking at him once more, she coughed as she spoke. “Whaddya want?” Her voice wasn’t gruff or worn like he had expected, instead seeming to belong to a far younger woman. Someone he had originally estimated to easily be in her late fifties had the voice of someone maybe in their thirties, and it was throwing him off.
“Uhh, Andrew sent me here. He said something about an induction or something similar, and he told me to find the mage corps. I don’t really know where that is, and I can’t read the signs here, so I was just trying to look for it.” Sam gulped, a little uneasy. That grew into a moment of fright when the woman turned to look at him a little closer, exposing the side of her face that had been turned away from him.
When he made eye contact with her, he realized that something was very unusual about her. A large swath of her face seemed to be scarred, but not in the traditional sense. Extending from the left side of her chin up to her ear, traveling in an irregular line as it made its way across, was a surface of blue glass instead of skin. Or possibly crystal, similar to the one she held in her hand. Either way, it gave off the impression of a marble statue cast in azure resplendence. Her facial features were defined in perfect clarity, as if someone had taken a mold of her head and attached a replica to her face to replace what had been lost.
The glass glowed, with the same bolts of blazing electricity that hid inside the crystal she held between her fingers. As he watched, the light faded from them, leaving streaks of lightning imprinted in eternal glory. They stretched throughout the surface of the pristine material, and seemed to have a fair amount of depth into the recesses of her skull as well. Whatever it was obscured what laid beyond those sparks, and Sam was glad that he couldn’t see straight into the woman’s head. He imagined it would have been gruesome to look at.
The whole experience of seeing her full face for the first time made Sam momentarily jump. It was by no means an ugly sight, it was even beautiful, but it was still unnerving to witness. “Ah, a newbie and an other-worlder. Figures.” She seemed to take note of the amulet on Sam’s neck, forgiving his slight towards her for so openly staring at her in shock. “Guess that means you haven’t had the mana test conducted, am I right?” Sam shook his head, wondering if this would be where he would finally find out what magic made him special.
Even if only for the smallest fraction of a moment, he felt that same desire to be a chosen one, a grand explorer of another world, the first of his kind, flare up. It was extinguished in the next moment by the woman’s disgruntled look. Surprisingly, it seemed that the glass he had assumed was fixed on her face was not rigid, the surface rippling and contorting the same way skin did. What the hell? How did it do that?
“Trust me, uh, Sam-mule, it’s not something you want to try out in the first place. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t know jack shit about what your affinities are.” Taken aback, Sam wondered how she knew his name enough to butcher it. Following her gaze, he noticed a small patch on his breast that stated a string of letters that he didn’t recognize in the slightest. And I didn’t notice that? I’m starting to think I might be a little blind.
“It’s Samuel, ma’am.” he corrected. “And, frankly, I’m a little too excited to give up that easy. I don’t know how this is supposed to work, but I know that I need you to teach me whatever you can about magic. Please.” She glowered at him, saw the resoluteness in his gaze, and sighed. “Well, don’t pin the blowback on me, got it? Don’t need no Mule kicking my ass.”
She stood up fully, and gestured for Sam to follow her. She began to pace towards the back of the building, evidently taking him somewhere important. “Mule, ma’am?” She looked back at him, the light of the sun reflecting off the glass on her face as she stared. “What? Don’t like it?” “No, I’m more confused than anything. Are you referring to mispronouncing my name?” A hearty chuckle found its way out of her chest, and she laughed as they rounded the corner of the building.
“Yeah, but it fits, don’t it? You seem like one with that long face of yours. Ya got the ears and everything too.” Sam felt anger spark in his heart for a moment, then acknowledged that she was just poking fun at him on purpose to try and get him to leave. He wouldn’t be having that, so he decided to stand his ground and stay. “What, upset? Hell kid, I couldn’t get anyone around here to stop calling me Sparky for years, and that name still rears its ugly head occasionally. Mostly the older folks on that front though.”
Rounding the corner, the dirt road transitioned to the same wavy grass found over by the training grounds. There was a slight dip in elevation, a gentle slope downwards, as if the road the buildings were set on was raised into the air unnaturally.
Moving forward, Sparky stopped at what seemed to Sam to be a bird bath. It was a small stone pedestal with a curved, bowl-like top, resting at about level with his stomach. Inside of the bowl, a shimmering opalescent liquid sat in complete stillness, seemingly unbothered by any amount of wind or debris blowing past. Looking around, Sam could see the backs of the other buildings he had seen upon the road, most of them housing nothing but empty backyards.
Sam spoke up hesitantly. “Are you sure you’re part of the mage corps or whatever? This doesn’t really feel professional…” He stared at the admittedly magical water, and wondered what the hell he was supposed to even do. I’m not gonna drink this. It looks like someone poured an entire container of glitter in there.
With trepidation heavy in his heart, he stepped up to what he could only see as a magical bird bath. “Alright, this is real simple. You’re gonna shove your hands in there for as long as you can, and you only get to take ‘em out when I tell ya to. Or, if you find it unbearable to the point of screaming. That works too.” This, for some odd reason, only managed to make Sam extremely alarmed. “It’s gonna hurt? Why?”
“Mule, I don’t have the time nor the willpower to explain this shit for you. Now, do you want to find out what wonderful magic abilities you have, or can I go back to my break?” Grimacing in discomfort, Sam walked forward, and slowly placed his hands inside. Immediately, he felt a sense of deep thrumming echoing up from the water, reverberating through his hands and down his entire body. It wasn’t painful per se, but it felt icy cold to his skin. It felt like holding onto a piece of frozen metal without any of the burning sensation.
“Alright, let me know when it starts to hurt.” With that, the surface of the water churned, seemingly agitated by some internal mechanism or source of energy. He noticed that as he had stuck his hands inside, Sparky had laid her hands upon a crystalline sphere set in the back of the stone, opposite from where he stood.
One that looked remarkably similar to the one he had seen the soldier from the showers using. It was smooth compared to the rough look of the shower heads and light fixtures he had seen, and it seemed to respond to her touch with a manic light flaring from inside.
Looking back to the water, he could feel sensations and colorations flit from one to the next in rapid order. He would spend only a few seconds feeling an uncomfortable heat with a blooming red spreading throughout the water, before it shifted to being the color of darkest mud as his fingers felt like they melted through something far more solid. Ice, fire, mud… were these elements? This didn’t feel like an imbuement of power or a test for naturally occurring magical strength. It felt like the weirdest way to wash your hands, bar none.
As each sensation moved past, each becoming more esoteric than the last in his mind, he continued to feel a basso thrum of power residing within the water. It called to him, a deep thumping that echoed in his chest. Thump. The different kinds of what Sam assumed were mana flashed by, with sensations that didn’t make much sense.
One felt like the summer sun on his skin, with nothing filtering between his fingers as light shone brightly from the water. Another felt like the sensation of his own thoughts, and the idea of thinking about his own thoughts while a deep purple bled throughout the water. What was that one?
Thump. More flashed past. The feeling of verdant greenery passing beneath his finger tips, a oneness with nature that he had never felt before, and yet no pain blossomed into his being. Thump. As this occurred, he could see Sparky’s look of boredom at a mundane task get wiped away, replaced with uneasiness. Evidently, something special was occurring, as Sam had yet to even feel a stitch of discomfort. Thump.
Thump. The beat had picked up now, and Sam grinned at Sparky as he felt the power growing. Then, he had a thought that wasn’t giddy at the idea of some weird event going on. Wait, what if no pain means that when I finally do feel something, it’s gonna be bad? Like really bad. Thump. No longer did the beat of the magic give him excitement, instead making him feel uneasy, his expression mirroring that of the woman across from him.
Then, the beating of his heart and the shaking of the pedestal came to a stop, the same unnatural stillness from before returning to the water. “Take your hands out, now. Shit, if it’s like the others, I need someone on standby with a potion.” Letting go of the crystal, she stepped towards Sam.
Only to jump back in surprise when a roar of sound came from the water. Sam, frantically attempting to pull his arms submerged up to the elbow from the water, could only stare in fright as his arms refused to budge. “What’s-” he was interrupted by a ripple of water turning into crashing waves as the sound crescendoed. It was peaking now, a drumming beat Sam could feel in his soul. No matter how hard he tried, he was pinned in place by an amount of force that felt immense.
Then, the pain began. The vibrations of his entire body reverberating with the water at the same frequency jolted him, and he felt places all over his body jitter back and forth until they burst, like there were blisters all over his skin finally giving way. At this, he began to scream.
He screamed so much, with such atonal torment and anguish, that he slumped into the water and fell unconscious within moments of the sensations flooding his body. A single thought filtered through the haze of blackness falling over him. I wonder when I'm gonna wake up?
And as he fell to the ground lifelessly, the water of the pedestal letting go as it returned to perfect contentment, Sparky could only look on in horror and despair. Horror at having yet another mess to clean up, and despair at knowing she would be blamed for it. “Well, fuck me I guess.”