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Player Rankings: Moonlight Magic
* Harold Grey (CF) L2 75 XP
* Smith Reeve (RP) L2 45
* Eldric Hinn (IF) L2 40
* Woodrow Irvine (LF) L2 30
* Adam Bridger (RP) L2 26
* Aston Bale (RP) L2 11
* Gerard Plunkett (2B) L1 70
* Allis Derry (SP) L1 65
* Landyn Barnette (SP) L1 55
Barnard Wastewell (3B) L1 55
* Clifford Summers (IF) L1 50
* Alfie Alvin (SP) L1 45
Jeremiah Quallon (C) L1 45
* Ead Yellow (C) L1 40
Oswald Chester (C) L1 40
Dillard Coal (1B) L1 40
* Proctor Smythe (SP) L1 35
Wyer Denman (SP) L1 35
Edward Kin (3B) L1 35
Beckett Akin (SS) L1 35
* Leonard Weaves (RP) L1 33
* Emerson Iler (RP) L1 32
* Grinth Done (RP) L1 26
* Ulrich Farrowhill (RP) L1 24
Dyer Thickenburg (RP) L1 24
* Monty Holt (RP) L1 21
* Auden Hale (SP) L1 20
Jux Quallon (RF) L1 20
Reilly Blackburn (SS) L1 20
* Wynn Willowby (RP) L1 18
* Stuart Manetten (RP) L1 15
* Stanley Axel (CF) L1 10
Denton Carkner (LF) L1 10
Cedric Harlane (OF) L1 10
Wulf Stanston (C) L1 10
Kimball East (2B) L1 10
* Bern Kinley (RP) L1 9
* Dalen Edwardstone (SP)L1 5
* Torag Gill (SP) L1 0
Gak Bar (RF) L1 0]
The barbarians were not faring well. This is just the beginning, I told myself. There’s time. But, I admit I was worried what the System might have in mind for those who didn’t make the final 26 man roster.
In more positive news, Kestrel finished the outfield wall. He’d originally consulted with Proctor and I, and we’d all agreed to create an outfield of uniform shape.
Both the left field wall and right field wall were 335 feet (102 meters) down the foul line from home plate. The wall then curved outward in an arc on both sides toward center.
In ball parks, in the outfield specifically, there are zones known as ‘power alleys’. These are located on either side of centerfield, in other words: left center, and right center.
These areas are where the wall arcs, eventually reaching their apex at straightaway center - the deepest part of the outfield. In our park, we agreed to have our wall situated 385 feet (117 meters) at the power alleys, and 415 feet (126 meters) at dead center.
So, you’d have to hit a ball pretty hard to hit a home run given these distances. Additionally, we had Kestrel build a fence of uniform height, all the way around the outfield. We settled on 10 feet (3 meters).
Kestrel used hardwood to construct the fence. He also consumed a lot of Boop Soda during the process. It was funny to me to observe this wall, because any baseball games I’d watched on TV featured outfield walls which were dark in color, and here we had our fence which appeared light, and wood grain. Paint wasn’t a thing in medieval Moonlight, as far as I knew.
“Fine work,” I said, praising Kestrel, once he’d finished.
“Aye,” he said. “How one might hit a ball over it? ‘Tis beyond me.”
“These guys’ll surprise you,” I said. “A few of them can do it. And a few more will be able to shortly.”
I knew as guys leveled up, their ability to hit the long ball would emerge.
“What do you call it again?” Kestrel asked.
“A home run,” I said.
“A home run,” he repeated. He nodded and his eyes arced across the sky as if imagining one happening right in front of him. “Sounds glorious.”
“They will, friend,” I said. “They certainly will be.”
Kestrel held his hands to his hips. “My son,” he said. “How is he?”
“Denton?” I said. I didn’t want to tell the old man his son hadn’t started all that well. “He’s fine. He’ll do fine.”
“Aye,” Kestrel said. “But, has he shown you our other project?”
His words gave me a shot of adrenaline. I wasn’t aware there was another project.
“Come,” Kestrel said. He beckoned for Proctor and I to follow him from the right side of the infield toward the left side.
We walked slowly behind him, and he led us outside the fencing running along the entire left side of the ball park, and we reached the large hole in the ground which marked the entrance to the underground equipment bunker.
But, Kestrel kept walking. Past the equipment bunker, about fifty feet away, was another underground bunker - Trevor the giant’s home. Kestrel descended the carved clay steps downward into Trevor’s place. A long stairwell.
Hard rock rose on both sides of you with every step down. You could feel the temperature change for the colder as you descended. But, then it was warmer at bottom.
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The bunker was quite deep to accommodate the giant’s height. For the stone age (and thanks to the soda), the whole thing was an architectural marvel.
“Whoa,” I said. I stopped midway down the stairs. “Where are we going? Is Trevor home?”
I hadn’t seen the giant in a couple of hours.
“Follow,” Kestrel said. He had a sly smile on his reddened face.
At the bottom of the steps, a torch bracketed on the stone wall shed light several feet deeper along the high ceiling corridor. The corridor had a massive arched wooden door on our left. Kestrel pointed to it.
“Trevor’s,” he said.
“His door?” I said. “I thought… I remember his home was more open, as soon as you’d get here you’d be in it.”
“Yes, this has changed,” Proctor agreed.
“Aye,” Kestrel said. He walked into the dimly lit distance.
We followed him away from Trevor’s apparent door, and we were greeted by another huge archway blocked by a heavy maple door.
“What’s this?” I said.
Kestrel smiled again, and he pounded on the door with the side of his fist. Someone on the other side swung the door inward, and the smell of torch smoke smacked me in the face.
We entered a massive cavern bathed in orange light. I coughed at the wood smoke, and the smell of burnt meat.
The walls appeared concrete, and rose high into a rounded ceiling thirty feet up. The room where we stood, it was really a great cavern, and it extended into gray dimness beyond where I could see. The ‘room’ was full of ball players. They smiled at us, apparently happy and excited for us to see what they’d been working on.
There were blankets, pelts, and cloaks laid out on the stone floor. You could tell they were areas for individuals to sleep. This was a residence. It’s like Moonlight had its own hostel.
“You all have been busy,” I said.
“Indeed,” added Proctor.
“‘Twas your tea,” Kestrel said. “And sweat.”
“No kidding.”
Dillard walked out to greet us from the depths several feet off. I coughed again, not used to the thickness of the air.
“Come see me quarters, ya fools,” Dillard said.
He walked us past many makeshift beds, and men sat with their backs against the concrete wall. Forget a hostel, it felt like I was being initiated into a men’s prison. There were many torches on either side of the wide cavern. The middle proved dim enough, I had to concentrate not to step on something… or someone.
Eventually, we reached Dillard’s camp out spot at the cavern’s far end. I sputtered with a fist in front of my mouth again.
“You may want to think about ventilation,” I said. “A lot of smoke.”
Dillard frowned, at least I think it was a frown given the shadows creasing his face.
“Holes in the roof ya mean?” Dillard said.
Kestrel had followed us, and I heard his deep voice behind me.
“Aye,” he said. “Working on it.”
“I had no idea,” I said. “What made you decide to do player housing this way?”
“Them dragons, ain’t it?” Dillard said.
I had to admit it was clever, and probably something I should’ve thought of on my own.
“Remind me to ask the System for modern lighting technology,” I said quietly to Proctor.
“That’d be nice.”
“What’s that now?” Dillard said.
“Nothing,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, yeah, nice. Really nice.”
It wasn’t really nice. But, the players, bless them, seemed to really get a kick out of living in this dungeon. All I could picture was installing fluorescent lighting, and sectioning off individual apartments. Maybe in time, I told myself.
Echoes of male voices reverberated along the hard walls. They came from behind us. We all turned to face the noise.
“What’s going on?” I said.
We rushed away from Dillard’s area, and with Proctor in front, and Kestrel behind, I felt confident I wasn’t going to trip even though I couldn’t see the floor.
When we reached the area closest to the door, everyone was standing. A few men had run out into the corridor.
“The tower bell!” Shouted one of the players.
As we jogged out into the corridor the sound of the watch tower’s bell beat repeatedly into my ear drums, a hammer against the high stone walls.
We ran up the stairs, and as I leaped two at a time, an image of a fire breathing dragon gripped me. But, it didn’t stop me.
When we reached the top, I sucked in glorious gobs of chilled, fresh air.
Wilda Weir greeted me with a smile which immediately put me at ease.
She pointed upwards to the top of the tower her family manned.
“My brothers,” she said with an eye roll. “They love that thing.”
I knew she was alluding to the bell.
“They definitely know how to get our attention,” I said.
“You have a delivery at the gate it would seem,” Wilda said. “They’ve already allowed the rider through.”
“A rider from where?” I said.
She shrugged. “Uncertain. All dark cloak,” she said. “We shall see.”
Trevor returned the ball park before this supposed delivery person had arrived, and I was glad.
“Have I missed much?” Trevor said.
“Big changes to your residence,” I said.
“Ah,” he said, and he nodded. “Thought you might like it. A chance for escape when the dragons come. A place for all to live.”
“Good job,” I said.
“I’m thankful for your soda,” Trevor said. “It’s made a lot of things possible.”
Every player on the team emerged from underground. We all waited east of the park, in the area in front of my shipping container house. We were all eager to see what the delivery person had for me.
“Poison,” Gak said to me. “Murphy Mountain’s top assassin has it out for you.”
“What a pleasant thought,” I said. “Thanks for putting that in my head.”
“Think about it,” Gak said. “You’ve murdered their deputy.”
“What are you talking about, Gak?” I said, barely hiding my annoyance. “A dragon ate their people. You saw it.”
“Aye,” Gak said. “But, do the Murphy Mountains know it?”
“They’re known poisoners,” Gak’s friend, Torag added. “Quite a talent with the substance.”
“I doubt it’s someone carrying poison,” Proctor said. “They wouldn’t have let them through the gate.”
“Who you have manning the arch?” Gak said. “You might be in danger, friend.”
I hated to lend credence to anything Gak had said, but my stomach turned into a knot once he’d suggested the idea of an assassin from Murphy Mountain.
I waved Trevor over, and I admit to feeling like a coward before I spoke to him.
“Trevor, any chance you could intercept this rider before he reaches us?” I said.
“The deliverer?” Trevor said. “You wish for me to stop them?”
“Would you, please?”
Trevor’s eyebrows scrunched downward. “You do not wish to receive whatever comes?” The giant said.
“Your friend Gak believes it’s poison on its way,” I said. “I’d rather not take the chance.”
“Oh no,” Trevor said. “How awful.”
“This isn’t confirmed,” Proctor said. “I’ve a feeling we’re panicking over nothing.”
“No panic,” I said, which was probably a lie. “I just want to be careful.”
“I can stop them if you wish,” Trevor said. “They’re probably not far off from here now. Has been a while.”
“Rider!” One of the players called out.
A black silhouette arrived from the east. A lone rider on horseback. Their dark cloak danced on the brisk breeze. Here we go, I thought. I expelled a pained breath.
Many of the men whipped their heads around to catch my reaction to seeing the dark rider. Then as the horse closed in, the players who had been clustered so tightly before spread apart like grease meeting dish soap, and left a wide chasm leading right to me.
Thanks guys.
Proctor stood close behind me, at my right shoulder, but still behind me. I was a man alone, with horse hoof beats thundering through hard mud closer and closer, through my feet, and reverberating within my chest.
If the rider had planned to strike me down with a poison arrow, they’d have done so already.
Then the horse closed to within twenty feet. The rider’s face was entirely concealed by black cloth. Curiously, behind the rider, there was a small wooden crate strapped to the horse, with several holes poked through.