Chapter 27
The group, their nerves taut with anticipation, approached a colossal structure that dominated the cityscape. Towering arches, each easily fifty feet high, lined its flanks, casting long shadows in the pre-dawn light. Suddenly, a monstrous shape descended from the sky, its leathery wings eclipsing the two moons currently shining in the sky. Several members of the party flinched back in surprise as the creature swooped low, brushing against Grok with a gust of wind before vanishing as quickly as it appeared.
"Oh, I almost forgot about Bromli," Pierce chuckled over their mental link, referring to the monstrous drake creature that served as Groks companion. "He makes quite an entrance."
"I think I need to clean out my pants," Flint muttered, his bravado momentarily forgotten.
"Inside," Grok continued, as the group regained their composure, "are inspection stations that charge portal fees per person and per item, depending on what it is. Beyond that are five portals, each leading to a different council member's planet. Most minor planets like this one can't move between each other directly; they have to go through a capital planet first. It's a way for them to double-dip on the taxes, as you pay with each portal transit. This leads to much lower prices, or higher profit margins, on capital planets, and import items become so expensive that only the wealthy can afford them on minor planets."
Stepping into the cavernous central portal building, Grok approached the ticket counter, her imposing figure casting an intimidating shadow. "Five tickets for Woberia," she declared in a commanding voice.
"What is the reason for transport?" the nasally voiced, undersized orc on the other side of the thick glass partition inquired, barely looking up from the steaming beverage he was cradling.
"Quest for the Adventurers Guild," Grok stated, holding out her glowing badge for the teller to inspect.
"Five gold," the teller mumbled, his eyes flicking briefly over the party before returning to his drink.
Taking their tickets, the group joined the queue, moving beneath the imposing arches marked "Woberia," positioned directly beside a set of eerily empty arches labeled "Doombringer." The line inched forward, a chaotic procession of couriers pushing floating boxes, pallets, and cages filled with restless creatures. Walking with the queue the group neared the Woberia portal.
Pierce muttered a series of arcane words under his breath, conjuring a brilliant orb of light off to the side of the line farthest from the Doombringer portal. The signal given, Ignis, with a practiced gesture, cast Time Stop, freezing the bustling scene around them. The group sprinted towards the Doombringer portal, not surprised by the lack of guards stationed nearby. They plunged through the swirling vortex of iridescent light, vanishing just as time resumed its normal flow.
"In and out, unsuspected and undetected... I love a good smash and grab!" Flint exclaimed over the mental link, his bravado returning as they materialized in a well-lit, empty room on a distant planet.
Looking around, the group noticed similar lines of couriers departing Doombringer for other capital planets, but none heading towards the city of Dunblag on the planet of Jusburnaxium. Several of the other portals also had incoming couriers, swiftly navigating the queue to exit the transportation building. Grok and the group seamlessly merged into the line, each scanning their surroundings for any sign of danger.
Soon, they exited a near-replica of the building they had entered just moments before, stepping onto wide, stone-lined avenues teeming with couriers darting through the early morning light. Pierce, voicing the thought that had been lingering in everyone's minds, asked, "How did they sync the time of day up so well? We're on a completely different planet, and it's just before dawn... or maybe dusk. But this looks like a morning crowd."
Before anyone could offer a theory, the group came to an abrupt halt, their eyes widening at the sight before them. Thousands of brilliant white, animated skeletons moved chaotically through the streets, carrying bags, boxes, pouches... one even carried the purse of a human woman directly behind her as she strolled into one of the shops lining the street. Each skeleton had a metal headband with a glowing amber gem embedded in its forehead. These weren't mindless warriors; they were purposeful, organized, silent, and eerily efficient.
The group stood frozen in the middle of the street, a small island in a sea of bone and bustling humanoids. A single skeleton, clutching a broom, stopped beside them and clicked its jaw twice, seemingly awaiting a response.
"What does that mean?" Evolon asked, her voice barely a whisper, as she was closest to the clicking skeleton.
"Don't look at me, I've never been here before," Grok replied, her voice laced with unease.
"Oh look, Desere, tourists!" a tall human woman in a well-tailored business suit remarked with a cheerful smile, a pre-teen girl with short blonde hair at her side. "It's been a while since we've seen those. Bones here has to sweep the sidewalk. He'll stand there until either you move or the heat death of the universe." The woman continued down the street, the girl turning and offering a small, hesitant wave to the bewildered adventurers.
"Well, this is... unexpected," Pierce remarked, ushering the group towards the side of the bustling avenue. The sheer volume of activity, the organized chaos of the skeletal workforce, and the unsettlingly cheerful demeanor of the city's inhabitants left them feeling off-kilter.
Venturing deeper into Doombringer, they encountered a vibrant tapestry of humanoid races. Elves presided over market stalls overflowing with exotic fruits and vegetables, their vibrant colors a stark contrast to the skeletal workers diligently arranging baskets and weighing produce. Dwarves, their faces grimy with soot, hammered away in open-air forges, crafting intricate cast iron cookware with practiced ease. Gnomes, meticulously assembled clockwork contraptions, their tiny hands moving with remarkable precision. Even the occasional orc could be seen, their imposing figures surprisingly at home amongst the butchers and meat vendors, expertly wielding cleavers and carving knives.
"Greetings, travelers!" a cheerful gnome shopkeeper called out, his voice cutting through the din of the marketplace. His wares, displayed on a meticulously organized stall, gleamed in the sunlight. "Welcome to Osseopolis's Emporium of Wonders! I am Ossepolis," the small gnomish man with a shock of fuzzy white hair declared with a flourish and a small bow. "Can I interest you in some fine enchanted spectacles? Half price for newcomers!" he added, gesturing towards his impressive inventory.
"How can they afford this?" Evolon wondered aloud, her eyes drawn to a magical toaster that promised to perfectly toast bread with its self-flipping mechanism. The price tag, a mere five gold pieces, seemed absurdly low for such a marvel of magical engineering.
"Offworlders, huh?" the gnome inquired with a knowing grin. "It's no masterwork," he admitted, tapping the toaster with a calloused finger, "but my work isn't bad either. I charge a fair price for good work!" he added with a hint of pride.
"We're just used to much higher prices for such quality craftsmanship," Pierce explained, carefully examining a pair of enchanted spectacles that promised to translate any language into the wearer's native tongue. Intrigued, he quickly memorized the intricate runes etched into the frame, effectively capturing the enchantment for himself. He noted the complex interplay of magical symbols, one set to decipher the written language, another to translate it, and a third to seamlessly overlay the translation onto the original text.
"It's against the law to charge more than a 10% markup," Ossepolis explained, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "And with the massive free labor force of the 'Boney Boys' doing all the hard work of mining, farming, and transporting the needed materials, we can focus on exploring our creativity. Rent is also extremely low, and after twenty years, you own your building outright." He picked up a curious carving knife with two serrated blades, demonstrating its enchantment by willing the blades to move back and forth with a subtle hum.
"Just like an electric carving knife from home," Ignis remarked, peering at the knife with interest.
"Isn't it wonderful?" Ossepolis chirped, his smile widening into an unnervingly broad grin. "We want for nothing!"
Smiling politely and nodding, Ignis mused, "It really does seem that way," as he handed the gnome ten gold pieces for the enchanted carving knife, adding it to his inventory.
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The group reunited and continued their exploration, their senses bombarded by the enticing aromas wafting from the various shops lining the street. The smell of freshly baked bread drew them towards a bakery, where golden loaves were displayed on a cart outside, each priced at a single gold piece. Next, they passed a confectionery, its windows filled with delicate pastries adorned with chocolate, powdered sugar, and glistening fruit. Further down, a butcher shop showcased an impressive array of meats: steaks, ground meat, sausages, roasts, and even whole birds, all ready for cooking and all at incredibly low prices.
As they browsed, their conversation continued over the mental link, their unease growing with each encounter.
"Those headbands are bothering me," Ignis confessed, his voice tinged with concern. "They're radiating a faint magical aura. Could they be a control mechanism?"
"Could be," Evolon replied, her voice thoughtful. "But everyone is so nice here. I like it!"
"Yes, very nice," Flint agreed, his eyes scanning a pair of finely crafted leather boots. "Almost too nice."
Ignis, drawn by a symphony of exotic scents, wandered into a tea and spice shop. A wave of aromas assaulted his nostrils: cinnamon, cloves, ginger, turmeric, and a hundred other spices he couldn't identify. The walls of the small but deep shop were lined with glass jars, each with a wooden lid and a label written in an unfamiliar script. "Pierce, give me those glasses, would you?" Ignis requested, his fingers itching to examine the exotic ingredients. Donning the spectacles, he began pulling each jar off the shelf, carefully inhaling the fragrance of its contents and jotting down notes on a small notepad. "I keep thinking of these people as being from the 1800s, but with magic," he mused to the others over the mental link. "But their economy is as diverse as ours back home. I've never seen this many diverse and wonderful spices in one place, and I've been to spice markets all across Earth." He paused, captivated by a jar filled with a sweet, slightly spicy, and smoky powdered blend. His mouth watered in anticipation.
"I'll take a kilo of this, that one, and this blue tea here, please," Ignis said, placing three gold coins on the counter, his eyes still sparkling with culinary excitement.
"A wonderful choice," the human shopkeeper replied, his hands moving with practiced efficiency as he bagged the tea and spices. "You must be planning a gamey roasted bird for dinner tonight."
"They do seem to complement each other well with a chicken or turkey," Ignis agreed, his mind already conjuring up flavor combinations. "What else do you think would go with it?"
"Head over to the next vegetable stand and talk to my friend Rodger," the man suggested with a broad smile. "He can get you some sweet corn and tubers that would be perfect." He paused, his smile widening. "Isn't it wonderful? We want for nothing!"
"I see that I could get used to living like this," Ignis admitted, a touch of wistfulness in his voice as he exited the shop, stowing his fragrant purchases.
"I'm in a bookstore," Pierce announced over the mental chat, his voice laced with surprise. "Most of these are cookbooks. I understand a good food scene, but nearly every shop we've passed has had something to do with food or cooking."
"Maybe this is the foodie district?" Ignis suggested. "Let's head over a few blocks and see what else we can find."
The five party members, navigating the chaotic flow of skeletal workers and cheerful citizens, carved a path through the crowded streets, regrouping before proceeding down another avenue.
The group, their sense of unease growing with each encounter, decided to take a break from the bustling marketplace. Following the enticing aroma of roasted meat and the sounds of lively chatter, they turned a corner and found themselves facing an inn. Its sign, swinging gently in the breeze, declared it "The Prancing Pony," a name that brought a smile to the faces of the humans in the group.
The tavern was dimly lit, with rough-hewn wooden tables and a roaring fireplace casting dancing shadows across the walls. A jovial dwarf, his thick beard braided with silver rings, stood behind the bar, expertly polishing tankards with a practiced hand. Skeletal servers, their bony fingers surprisingly adept at carrying trays laden with mugs and plates piled high with food, moved silently between the tables.
"Welcome, friends! Sit wherever ye like," the dwarf boomed, his voice a welcoming baritone. "What can I get for ye? We've got the finest stock of ales in the city, aged spirits, and quite a nice wine selection, if I don't say so myself."
"Second breakfast and a nice bottle of red, please," Pierce requested, a hint of amusement in his voice, wondering if anyone would recognize the order from The Lord of the Rings.
"No problem!" the dwarf replied with a hearty laugh, relaying the order to the kitchen through a small, enchanted stone hanging around his neck on a leather strap.
The group settled into a corner booth, their eyes darting around, taking in the scene. While the tavern had a certain rustic charm, the ever-present skeletal staff and the unsettlingly cheerful patrons made it difficult to relax.
"It's like if Walt Disney created a whole town and paid everyone to be obnoxiously nice," Pierce commented over the mental chat, observing the comings and goings of the inn with a critical eye.
"Fantasy Westworld," Flint added, with a low voice.
"I agree," Ignis chimed in. "There's something not right here. It's too perfect, too... sterile."
"I understand why you picked this place, Ignis," Pierce said, "But I'm not exactly sure what we're going to get out of it."
"Watch this," Ignis replied mentally. "Tell me it doesn't give you the creeps." He then turned to an elven man passing by their table and asked, with feigned innocence, "How do you like living in this city?"
The elf's initial expression was one of disdain, quickly replaced by a blank stare, and then, with a jarring shift, a wide, artificial smile spread across his face. "Isn't it wonderful?" he chirped, his voice devoid of any genuine emotion. "We want for nothing!" He then abruptly turned and walked towards a barstool on the far side of the room, his eyes darting nervously towards the group between sips of his wine and bites of cheese.
"I swear I saw a skeleton carrying a purse walking behind a shopping woman, just like in that Will Smith movie AI," Evolon commented over the mental link, "but with undead instead of robots."
A skeletal server silently delivered five glasses of red wine to the group, placing each one in front of a party member with unnerving precision. A minute later, a full-figured woman in her thirties, with long black hair and fashionable glasses, arrived with their "second breakfast" feast, serving it family style without a word. As Pierce lifted the silver dome from a large platter of scrambled eggs, he noticed a small, rolled-up piece of paper tucked discreetly beneath the lip of the white ceramic plate. With a practiced sleight of hand, he palmed the paper and slipped it into his inventory. He then pulled up his inventory screen and eagerly read the note through its item description.
Human Resistance from Earth. Clock Tower, Red Door, Midnight.
"Guys, I have an idea on what we need to do next," Pierce announced over the group chat, his voice laced with intrigue as he skimmed the contents of the note. "Grok, can you get us 3 rooms for the night?"
"I think we should split up," Evolon suggested, her mind already formulating a plan. "Recon the area, check out some shops... If anyone is watching, we'll confuse the hell out of them with our actions. Then, we sneak out tonight to meet up with this resistance."
"This is so exciting!" Flint exclaimed, his enthusiasm bubbling over. "I get to be Chewy this time!"
"Nope!" Ignis retorted playfully. "You were Chewbacca last time we played a Star Wars TTRPG. It's my turn!"
"You make a solid argument," Flint countered, a mischievous glint in his eye, "but you forget one important detail. I called it."
"Fine," Ignis conceded with a dramatic sigh. "But I get to be the badass princess."
"Next stop is a salon," Evolon declared, a massive grin spreading across her face. "You are so getting the ear buns." She paused, then added with mock seriousness, "And I get to be R2-D2."
"You get to be the deus ex machina with memories that come and go randomly... got it," Pierce quipped, joining in the playful banter.
"What role can Grok play?" Grok inquired, her voice laced with curiosity. "I never understand your... Reindeer Games."
"You, my friend, get to be my gruff scoundrel smuggler friend with a heart of gold!" Ignis declared with a hearty laugh. "And it's a Role-Playing Game, Grok. Reindeer are Santa Claus's magical flying horses."
"How can the heart pump blood if it is made of gold?" Grok questioned, her literal mind struggling to grasp the metaphor. She had long since given up on expecting a sensible answer from this group of eccentrics.
"Ok, we split up," Pierce interjected, steering the conversation back on track. "I have some new enchanted items for everyone that will help." He pulled five simple silver rings from his inventory, placing one on his own ring finger. "These have a Greater Invisibility enchantment on them that lasts for over an hour. Normal Invisibility won't hide you from undead for some reason, but Greater Invisibility does. There's also a minor Silence enchantment that should mask small sounds like footsteps on stone, but nothing louder than a light whisper."
"Where does he get those wonderful toys?" Evolon cackled, as she slipped the ring onto her finger, another minor enchantment ensuring a perfect fit.
"My Precious!" Flint exclaimed in a raspy voice, claiming his ring.
"I will take the Ring to Mordor... Though I do not know the way," Ignis intoned dramatically, gazing at his ring with mock reverence before sliding it onto his finger.
"This is a wonderfully powerful artifact," Grok declared, examining her ring with a critical eye, "but Grok does not wish to be married to a puny human." With a shrug, she placed the ring on her thumb.
"Okay, everyone have fun shopping, check out the clock tower, and meet back here for dinner," Pierce instructed, laying out the plan for the day. "Stay out of trouble and try not to use your magic. Just call over the mental chat if you need anything." He drained his wine glass, placed four gold coins on the table, and exited the inn, eager to continue his search for more fascinating enchanted items.