[https://tabletopliterature.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/11/Hamlet-of-Sunset-Greek.png]

Cire gripped a nearby stone and bashed the tusks of the boar until one snapped free. Using this ‘tool,’ he attempted to skin the mountain cat. He ended up botching it badly, tearing holes in the skin and leaving large chunks of flesh stuck to the hide.

Ciresil tied the mangled fur around his body, warm blood smearing over his skin and sticking the cooling hide to him. Squirming in place, he dry heaved, but recovered quickly. Ciresil started repeating the first step of the wilderness survival merit badge over and over again in his head to help him cope. Positive mental attitude Ciresil, positive mental attitude.

Ragged Fur Pelt

Armor: +1

Rarity: Common

Quality: Poor

Ciresil was a bit curious, he hadn't received a notification or a skill acquisition while skinning the animal. He had done a terrible job, but he had still ended up with something to show for it. Maybe the gods of this world are tired of watching me run through the forest buck-ass naked? Don’t spend too long thinking about it Ciresil. Just put your head down and get going.

Inspecting the two corpses had brought questions of its own, the boar had looked odd at first glance. Upon closer look, he had discerned how it had been able to put up a fight against the cat. It had a single remaining gnarled tusk the size of a kitchen knife. On top of that, it was much larger than any pig he had ever seen. It had small tusk-like growths protruding along its spine.

For all intents and purposes, the mountain lion was just a mountain lion. It was a bit bigger than those he had seen back home, but most of the characteristics fell into place. Hell, it could look bigger because he had only ever been within throwing distance of one up to this point.

With a grunt and some popping joints he stood, stretched, and started jaunting through the sparse trees. His Darkvision made finding and following the previous game trail easy, he counted this as a small blessing. Sparse woods thinned out as he approached the valley floor.

Brush finally cleared to reveal a flat, rocky expanse reaching a good distance from one ridge of the bowled valley to the other. He had emerged onto these plains from the Eastern escarpment. The subtle hue of a pink sunrise blossomed over his shoulders, it was a gorgeous sight.

To his side the reflection of the moon bounced back at him from a glassy lake. The waters hummed with ethereal energy. A shimmer of light pulsed from the center of the pool creating small waves. A swan floated on the surface, bobbing with the current. It’s white feathers radiating in the dawn.

Ciresil was about to go straight for the water, but then he saw something much more tantalizing, smoke! Trailing lazily into the air from a small cabin across the valley, the wisps climbed into the sky. Warm light escaped through shuttered windows and tantalizingly beckoned him.

Dashing towards salvation, all other thoughts fled his mind. He had sprinted halfway across the valley when his ragged breathing and raw throat forced him to slow. Ciresil managed a steady stumbling pace, not willing to stop now that he had a definitive goal.

As the distance closed, he could see more smoke trails rising from a tiny collection of ramshackle wooden buildings set against the far curve of the valley. He switched from Darkvision to regular eyesight once the sun flared over the ridge behind him. Therefore, Ciresil was blinded to the door of the farm house opening. Nor did he make out the nocked and drawn arrow on a fine-looking long bow.

Taking Ciresil in the shoulder an arrow sunk into his flesh until it bit bone. Thrown back by the force, an involuntary scream ripped from his throat and he toppled off balance onto the ground. He gripped the arrow with his hand and tried to yank it out. A massive wave of pain made him swoon, stars and spots appearing in his vision.

Before he could come to his senses another arrow had struck the dirt to his side. It stuck there quivering, only a few feet from his head. Now was no time for screwing around! He jumped back onto his feet and lunged to the side.

“Why are you shooting at me?!?” Ciresil yelped.

Another arrow slammed into his left thigh and his legs buckled. Knees colliding with rocks and dust, he crumpled into a heap. “What the fu....?”

“By Demeter!” Was shouted in a distressed tone and was quickly followed by the scuffling of shoes on dirt. A man crossed the distance in a hurry. Ciresil wasn't about to flinch away, but he wasn't going to move either. Having two arrows stuck in him, and having just lost god only knew how much HP, had taken its toll.

Moving down to one knee next to Ciresil, the man began to look him over.

“Hey there stranger, you look like something a dragon chewed up for breakfast. Sorry about greeting you like that. You still alive?”

Cire gave the man a rather exasperated hurumpf and pulled himself up to sitting.

“What the hell are you shooting random folks for?” Ciresil kept his tone as measured as he could, but it was hard to keep the edge out of it.

The farmer – it was more obvious now that was what he was – leaned back a little and put a hand on the back of his head. He gave Cire the first smile he had seen since coming to this world, it was friendly and full of warmth.

“Heh, I understand you being upset. Really, I do. But no one ever comes from the eastern end of the valley, only wild animals and beasts.” He paused giving Ciresil a considering look, his eyes lingered on the bloody furs. “Stacy and I can generally handle ourselves, but we would prefer to put anything down before it gets to the crops or makes it to the cabin door.” He yanked thumb back over his shoulder. Cire tilted his head to see a split rail fence surrounding roughly hewn earth surrounding the cabin.

“Sorry again, I will get you fixed up before you go on your way.”

Cire coughed a little and winced as the movement jostled the two arrows. It was a little odd how this guy had so casually dismissed causing him grievous bodily harm. However, he had good points and Cire desperately wanted... no, he needed, help. Brush it off, you regenerate and you’re not going to die. You’ll make more friends with honey than vinegar Ciresil. Time to put my Charisma stat to work.

“No harm no foul, apology accepted. I am... Ciresil. It’s a bit of a mouthful, call me Cire for short. Well met.....?” He left the statement hanging and with an upward inflection, a small gesture of his hand towards the lanky farmer.

Considering, the humans eyes glinted with soft browns of the earth mixed and a hint of green and a hand ran through his mop of curly brownish gray hair. His warm voice offset the cracked and worn skin of his face.

“My name is Eugene, and well met indeed. Now let's get you back to the cabin so we can get those pins out of your cushion. Sound like a good idea?”

Nodding weakly, Cire grit his teeth together as he flung his good arm around the man's shoulders. They stumbled back to the cabin, together. It was a humble abode, consisting only of a single room and loft.

A fireplace to his left roared with a fresh log for the morning. A table in the middle of the room had an alluring pot of stew resting on it, filling the space with a rich aroma. Furs spread out along the floor and upholstered the chairs. Cire's head lulled as his senses were assaulted by the pleasures of comfort.

It took another hour or so before they had removed the arrows, wrapped the wounds, given him a healing potion, and had Cire laid out on a pallet of furs in the corner with his back propped up by the log wall.

Donning a simple set of small clothes, tunic, and pants reassured Cire of his civility. Eugene even gave him an old pair of shoes. The two men were roughly the same size, so the clothing didn't hang too loosely. Eugene had told him to “just be quiet and rest” when he had tried to thank him and start conversation, but after finishing his second bowl of stew, he couldn't let that stand.

“Thank you so much for your kindness Eugene. I really do not know how much longer I could have lasted out there in the cold. Even if it took two arrows to buy some hospitality I am glad of it, just don't make me pay the same entrance fee ever again.” His chuckle was a little weak, but the warm smile on his face spoke to true appreciation.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“I told you. Think nothing of it son. Danger is behind every rock and crag in the Chimera’s Mane and the Hamlet of Sunset is no exception. There only be a few of us hearty folk here to take what we can from Elysium. We do our best to make sure that Elysium does not take any of us along with it.”

Eugene paused speaking for a moment. Giving Cire a sidelong look from his sitting position in his chair. “Now, my hospitality is plentiful, especially to folks who are needing it and who I owe it to. You looked like a dire boar had spent all night rutting you when I found you, the arrows aside. Why in the abyss were you out on the eastern side of the valley anyways? Where did you come from?”

About to spurt out the backstory he had thought of while walking down from the ridge, he took pause. To Cire, it had been a rather clever tale to explain his peculiar traits. He had lived in the forest with his family, they had been overrun by Orcs, and he had been the only one to survive. While fleeing in terror, he ended up here. It even answered why I have no idea where I am… and the naked part.

It felt wrong to lie to Eugene, however, and not just because he had helped him... albeit after shooting him full of arrows, but because deception had never come easily to Cire. Sure, he had played a rogue character from time to time. However, when given a choice, he had hardly been able to lie by omission in order to save someone else hurt feelings.

There had never really been an option, and he realized now that he had been fooling himself. He looked straight into Eugene's eyes and decided to give him as much information as he felt comfortable exposing, hoping for his part that Eugene wouldn't press too far. There is a reason that the first point of the scout law is trustworthy, lean on it

Eugene waited patiently, looking over to Cire and taking a bite or two of stew while anticipating his answer.

“Well, I am not from around here, that is probably rather obvious. I have no idea how I ended up in this valley, let alone whatever kingdom we might be in. My loved ones have all passed. I had plenty of friends where I am from, but I doubt I will ever see them again. I just have this feeling I belong here and I won’t be able to find a way back.”

He paused and looked away from the older man for a moment and took a break to process what he had just said. He had taken years to work through losing his family, for a moment he felt a twinge of sadness regarding his previous acquaintances. It brought a shade over his heart, but after a single deep breath, it receded.

Looking Eugene in the eyes again with a renewed sense of purpose, it didn't hurt that his frostbite debuff had worn off during his recovery, he spoke clearly.

“I am not looking for a handout or charity, but I could use a place to stay and some help to get back on my feet. Do you have some work around the farm that I could help with?” Cire just needed to get off the ground and he would be able to take care of himself and he was not going to find what he needed naked on a mountain.

Cire’s sudden shift to seriousness caught Eugene off guard. He had half-expected a good-natured joke from the elf, or even a jab, considering he had shot the man with two arrows. Most people would have been furious about it, but Cire sounded almost guilty. He had planned on showing the wounded elf to the lodge, where the majority of the camp's workers slept, and calling it done. Eugene thought for a moment and then he nodded once.

“You should recover from those arrow wounds by mid-day at the latest. I will be out in the fields as the winter harvest needs to start coming in. If you take care of the boars that have been tearing up my crops then you can stay here with Stacy and me for a few days. I have some old gear I can loan you, but your success and failure will be on you.”

He squared his shoulders to Cire as he spoke the last line and raised an eyebrow, making sure he conveyed the message: if you get yourself into trouble, I cannot get you out of it.

Quest Title: Down the Dire Boars I

Condition(s): Kill 5 boars to prove that you can pull your weight.

Rewards: Room and board for 5 days.

Penalty for failure or refusal of Quest: Decreased respect by Eugene.

Do you Accept? Yes or No

“Of course. I am just glad to have a chance to earn my keep and pick up a few skills along the way.” Cire responded thankfully. He had not expected to receive a quest, but he would take it. Any additional way to earn experience or rewards would significantly increase his chances at surviving.

“Well, lets get you properly outfitted with what I have on hand. The sun waits for no one. What weapons and armor do you have high aptitudes for?” Eugene asked casually as he stood, heading over to a rather large wooden chest against the back wall.

Cire thought for a moment about how to answer that, but he figured he would get far more information regarding his current circumstances if he owned up to his ignorance. He really didn’t want to die again.

“Ummm, so this may sound like a stupid question to you, but what are aptitudes?” The immediate look of shock on Eugene's face portrayed how ridiculous he had just sounded. “Remember, not from around here.”

Eugene nodded slowly, like he still couldn't believe he was running into someone who didn't know what aptitudes were. Cire could make an educated guess, he wasn't a moron. However, perhaps this was the equivalent of asking if snow was cold? After waiting another full couple of minutes Cire cleared his throat and spoke up. “Eugene, going to share?”

There was a slightly annoyed tone to his voice, but it did not seem to register to the farmer, who shook his head as if clearing some cobwebs and chuckled.

“Sure am, still waking up. Normally I do not have that many conversations this early. You must truly be from the wilderness if you do not know how aptitudes work. Pull up your status sheet and let me know one of your skills.”

Cire did as his host had instructed and gave it a quick scan before speaking.

Biographical Information:

Name: Ciresil

Level: 0

Experience: 656

Race: Vampire – Sun Elf

Class: Unavailable – Requirements not met

Alignment: Neutral

Languages: Divine Elvish, Common

Stats:

Health: 7/13

Mana: 11/11

Armor: 1

Strength: 14

Dexterity: 19

Constitution: 14

Intelligence: 13

Spirit: 9

Charisma: 19

Luck: 7

Resistances:

25% Enchantment

20% Weather

-50% Holy Magic

Aspects:

Indefatigable

Skills:

Wilderness Survival 2, Natural

Martial Combat 1, Natural

Herbalism 1, None

Abilities:

Shapechanger, Bite, Regeneration

Traits:

Child of Night: Vampiric abilities, Darkvision. If noticed by others, your true nature may have drastic consequences. Other elements of this trait may reveal themselves over time.

Child of Heaven: You have retained a divine soul. Reduced susceptibility to Holy Magic, vampiric light vulnerability negated, vampiric hunger reduced. Other elements of this trait may reveal themselves over time.

Elven Heritage: 25% Enchantment Resistance.

Inventory:

Basic Set of Clothing (Body)

Simple Shoes (Feet)

“Sorry about that. I gather from your response that it is important, and I am still a bit touchy from my morning.” Pausing for a moment, he drew in a breath and relayed what he hoped was innocuous information.

“I recently got the Herbalism skill and I am only level one. It was rather difficult to pick anything successfully. It says here that I have no aptitude, but I was still able to...”

Cire was about to finish his sentence when Eugene's cackling laughs peeled through the cabin. The man doubled over and actually had to wipe a tear out of his eye. At this point, the mystery of what his “aptitude” meant was almost getting to him as much as being laughed at for his ignorance. He shot Eugene with his best withering glare.

“How... bwahaha... how...”

The farmer sucked in a deep breath and calmed himself long enough to get out a whole sentence. “How long did you spend picking flowers with your nil aptitude, son?”

A soft round of chuckles punctuated the mans words, he had clearly not worked out his bout of mirth. Eugene’s arm slid around Cire’s and gave him a sidelong hug, keeping himself balanced.

Cire kept his glare leveled at the man for a good long moment until silence hung between them, then he grinned. “For two whole days up on that mountain slope I have been picking ferns. I take it you are telling me that I am dreadful at it?”

The humor glinting in the older man's eyes when he made eye contact was all that it took for Cire to start laughing. Soon Eugene joined in. It felt good to laugh. It felt really good to not be alone. Seems like a good Charisma score will be worth more than I thought.