Stumbling out of the dark, Liv shielded her eyes against a sun she couldn’t even see. The sky was the same misty gray as everything else, but somehow the instinct to guard her eyes managed to hang on even now. Liv shuffled eastward, coming to the tiny ponds where her second life had begun before flopping limply onto the grass. The swaying shrubs nearby gave her sidelong glances as they danced, some looking nervous.
Liv groaned, exhausted. A glance at her ‘character sheet’ revealed that her SP total was down by another fifty points.
“Fuuuuuuuck…” she whimpered. This thing was taking all she could muster just to hold it at bay. It wasn’t showing any signs of letting up or slowing down. Pushing back against the incursion was taking up most of her energy, but if she stopped pushing back the losses would be catastrophic. Still, even she, couldn’t keep struggling indefinitely. She needed to regroup.
Looking ‘upward’ from her prone position, she saw her stony likeness hanging from the grassy ceiling like a bat. Her brow furrowed as she noticed other, unfamiliar, upside-down objects clinging to the earth scattered around it. Half rolling over and propping herself on one elbow, Liv squinted at the newest additions to the primitive shrine. They looked mostly like an assortment of figurines. Heaving onto her feet with a grimace, the haggard avatar shuffled across the surface of the water until she found herself beside the large shrine and the myriad of offerings.
Varying widely in quality and material, most of them looked like little animals. A clay figure of something avian with a crest of clipped feathers, a blocky boar carved from something that may have been a bone, and a wooden gator. She knelt to inspect the last item, realizing it wasn’t made of wood, but leather. Then it clicked; a boar made of a tusk, a gator made of gator skin, a bird with real feathers-
“Offerings,” she mumbled. Then her eyes widened as a thought struck her. Were they still here? Did they know about the dangers? Looking around in a panic, she began to jog, then sprint around the boundaries of her little world. She couldn’t risk the time for a more casual search if she was right. She made it about halfway across the northern edge when she spotted exactly what she’d feared. A band of lizards were thrashing in a heap along the edge of the bayou, beside a blazing torch planted in the mud. Flailing, Liv dashed towards the hunters, certain she was too late and some infested creature had caught them.
As she closed in, though, she saw that the three hunters had managed to catch one of their goals. They pinned a sizable gator of some kind, with the smallest wrapped around its snout while the largest laid atop the beast’s back. The third quickly plunged a dagger into their prey, slicing a ragged triangle into the gator's side. The formerly city-dwelling punk recoiled as the hunter grabbed the flap of still-living flesh and pulled the gator’s belly open. Before Liv could even process the cruelty of the tactic, a black slug slithered out of the hole. The parasite was swiftly run through with the dagger, pinned to the sand, and all three hunters hissed in frustration.
There was a wet *crack* as the one holding the snout rolled and twisted, snapping the beast’s neck and allowing the largest to angrily chuck the inedible prey away from the water. Liv concluded that the animal must have been more recently infected, as it didn’t burst into a swarm as she had seen more advanced cases do. Instead, as the handful of parasites tried to emerge from the carcass, the one who had done the carving took up the tall torch and thrust the burning end into each slug, causing them to sizzle and burst.
When no further specimens emerged, the trio angrily dragged the body back to the water, disgustedly tossing it back into the bayou. Liv watched, fascinated. So the lizards knew about these things! She was getting excited about what they might be able to show her when she noticed a disturbing detail. The three hunters were thin. Too thin. The trio all looked a bit boney, and their frustration over the infected catch was swiftly escalating into what looked like some kind of argument between them. Her hopes of a solution being handed to her plummeted. These hunters looked like they were struggling, possibly even starving.
Liv looked at her slowly shrinking pool of SP. She could feed them. It was within her power… but it would cost valuable resources. She watched as the torch-weirder inserted themselves between the other two, trying to make peace. The very idea of summoning an animal into being just so that it could be promptly killed and eaten just seemed wrong, but she had no idea if these people could eat plants at all.
With a sigh, Liv realized her mind was already made up. The little gifts and offerings they left were fantastic little batteries of SP, and those wouldn’t keep coming if they didn’t get anything out of it. More than that, she couldn’t let three sentient beings starve to death to protect a simple lifeform that didn’t even exist yet. Grimacing as she spent more SP than was probably wise, she put the extra energy into making the creature large enough to be worth the effort. If she was going to do this, she wanted as few lives lost as possible.
The catfish that exploded out of the water had to have been nearly four feet long. The bulky bottom feeder flailed out of the water and flopped onto the land beside the quarreling lizard people, who stared at it in slack-jawed stupification. The smallest was the first to react, lunging to grab the slippery meal. What came next was a flurry that Liv really didn’t want to stick around for.
Hugging her arms around herself, she headed back towards her shrubs. Their ecstatic cheers echoed behind her. The meaning was lost, but she knew ‘Iejartiss’ when she heard it.
“It’s fine…” she whispered to no one. “The gifts they left will make up for it. You had to! They were hungry!” Her self-assurances came to an abrupt halt as she passed back through the line of mangroves. Emerging near her shrubs' continuing ritual, stumbled onto yet another unexpected scene. A tiny figure in a hooded cloak stood before the statue, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.
Perhaps it was her paranoia at play, but the sudden thought that the shady visitor might be out to take her offerings forced a knee-jerk reaction.
“GUARDS!!” Liv shouted, her voice hoarse, pointing at the newcomer. Popping up from the razor grasses and down from the nearest canopies, those shrubs not currently involved in the ritual charged forward and encircled the cloaked traveler.
“Woah WOAH!!” The voice was male and sounded as tired as Liv felt. He extended his hands, palms outward and empty, while the guards angrily brandished their spears.
“I don’t mean any harm,” he insisted, speaking in an overly slow, level tone. Liv’s brow furrowed, as the voice began to sound more familiar. The ring of warriors either didn’t understand or were simply unconvinced. Moving very slowly, the tiny man pulled back his hood.
Liv wanted to jump for joy as she realized who had come to visit her, thrilled beyond words to know that Halfling Lad had made it home safely. She moved in to get a better look at him and was stunned to see just how worried the ranger looked. That gave her pause; this guy had fought off a band of cultists while injured and feverish, why was he worried about her shrubs?
“Look, I didn’t mean to interrupt nothin’. I’m only here to talk to the Red Lady…” When no reaction was forthcoming from the shrubs, Logan grumbled under his breath. “Fecking Leshies. Why did she have to go and make fecking Leshies?”
“It’s okay!” Liv insisted. “He’s okay to be here!” One of the guards, she was pretty sure it was Harrier, nodded to her and shambled over to Logan’s feet. The shrub shimmied and gyrated, making wooden creaks and leafy rustles at the Halfling. Logan’s relief was palpable as the warriors parted ranks and stalked back into nearby greenery for cover.
Stolen story; please report.
“Er… Thanks? Do… Do you speak the trade tongue?” the confused Halfling asked. Harrier’s head tilted to one side, looking curious. “Can you understand me?” Logan rephrased, speaking slowly. At that, the shrub enthusiastically nodded.
“Oh thank the gods,” he sighed. “Do you know where I can find the Red Lady? I have something I think she’ll really want.” Liv perked up at that. Whatever could the little guy have for her? Harrier nodded again, and half turned to point back at Liv. Logan looked in her direction, but she could tell immediately as his eyes latched onto the only object in that direction. She sighed as he returned to the statue.
“Right… I have no idea how to do this,” he grumbled to himself, eyeing Harrier nervously now and again.
“Uh… I, LOGAN TANNER, FORMALLY REQUEST AN AUDIENCE WITH THE RED LADY OF THE STILTS,” he half shouted, awkwardly standing as stiff as a board.
“Shit. Right. Uhhh. Hel, how am I supposed to do this?” Liv had only ever seemed to appear visibly to outsiders on one occasion. She had no idea how to do it again or what it might cost her to do so. Shaking her head, she decided on a better idea.
“Harrier, I want you to draw what I show you in the mud in front of the statue.” When the shrub nodded, she wrote out a message in glowing letters in the air in front of her. Knowing this might be pretty slow, she decided to keep the message simple.
/I am here/
Harrier moved swiftly, scratching out the letters in the dirt. Logan looked down, then seemed confused.
“I’m sorry. I don’t read… Leshy? I don’t know those letters…” Liv slumped. He spoke English but couldn’t read it? What sense did that make? Sitting down on the dirt, she put her chin in her hand and tried to think. After several silent moments, Logan knelt beside her and began to write something of his own into the mud. The exasperated punk’s jaw dropped as she saw shapes she recognized.
“Runes?! You use runes?!” Hope surged within her but then faded. She knew the runes, but she only knew a tiny bit of Old Norse. What if that’s what he was actually speaking and some weird magic just made it sound like English to her? The runes weren’t quite identical to any of the Futhark she knew, but were close enough to read.
ᛘᛁᚾᚬᛘᛁᛦᛚᚢᚴᛅᚾ
“M-ih-n-aw-m-ih-r-l-oo-k-ah-n…” Liv slowly sounded out each rune. Unlike an alphabet, runes were entirely phonetic and lacked such niceties as spaces and punctuation. It also didn’t help that some runes could have multiple potential sounds.
“The second rune could be a sharp I… Oh! That first A too. And I think that R was sometimes…” her whispers trailed off as she tried to think as quickly as possible, lest she miss her chance. After wracking her brain for a bit, she came up with something plausible.
My name is Logan.
Pumping her fist, she began to sketch her reply in the air, then paused. She had an opportunity here. She could just introduce herself as Liv, but image was important. She didn’t want to sound bland and inviting. She wanted to scare cultists and keep tourists away from the dangers here. While Harrier scratched out the runes Liv hoped were correct, Logan began to read.
“I… am… thee…” Liv winced. Right, phonetic. ‘The’ ended in e but it sounded like ‘uh’. Should have used an úr there. “Man… gal…grow?”
“Balls!!” Liv huffed.
“Manglegrove?” Logan self-corrected.
“YES!! VICTORY!!” The invisible punk cheered, unheard by her guest.
“Well. That’s hands down the most Leshy name I’ve ever heard.” Logan was looking at Harrier now. “Alright, Manglegrove, how do I speak to the Red Lady?” Harrier looked horrified as if some grave blasphemy had been committed. Crossing its arms in vehement denial, the shrub… Leshy?… then pointed at the statue insistently.
“Oh… OH!” Comprehension dawned on him. “Apologies… Manglegrove?” He said to the statue, looking to the Leshy to confirm and continuing on when the little plant nodded. “Right… My name is Logan Tanner. I have come to thank you. You saved our lives that night.”
Liv moved to stand in front of her statue, enjoying the illusion it gave her that a flesh and blood person was actually looking her in the eye. Logan fidgeted nervously. She realized then that this was just a lead-up, and sighed to herself as she braced for ‘the ask’.
“I… I wish to propose a trade,” he said quickly enough to practically slur into a single word. Liv blinked, pleasantly surprised that the ask was coming with some kind of reciprocity. She sketched her reply for Harrier.
/What Trade/
The lack of punctuation was going to drive her nuts. She didn’t need the Oxford comma here, but how the heck did people get by before periods and question marks?! Logan took a deep breath.
“I wish to barter for sanctuary. For myself, my child, and…” he paused, then changed his words. “For myself and my children.” Liv realized he must have been referring to the kids that had come looking for him that night.
/Danger/
/Not Safe/
“Nowhere is safe,” Logan said grimly. “The same folk who summoned that… thing… They’re also at work in Njörvenn. I have been doing everything I can to try and expose their plans and put a stop to them, but so long as my family is there, I can’t risk confrontation.”
/Not safe/
/Monsters/
“Please.” Liv’s heart wanted to break as Logan got down on his knees. “Please, I am begging you. I know what you are. I saw how powerful you are. Monsters or no, they would be safer with you than anywhere else right now. Please.” Reaching behind himself, he pulled up a backpack and opened the top flap.
“I don’t ask for charity. I have brought you something in return.”
This was an awful idea. She wanted to make him understand that he was trying to put those kids in an active war zone. But just saying ‘no’ to a man who was begging her for help felt so cruel.
“I offer knowledge,” the leather, clad wildsman explained, pulling out a thick book and holding it to his chest. “I know about what you are. I know the suffering you’ve had to endure.” That took Liv aback. She began writing questions, then erased them. She had to keep her sentences short and simple or this would take ages for Harrier to write out.
/What suffering/
/What am I/
“Were you once alive? Like me?”
/Yes/
“Are memories of your life missing? Do you feel incomplete? Like pieces of you have been lost?”
Liv froze, her pupils dilating. If she’d still had a pulse, she was sure it would have been racing. So her reply took a little longer than usual.
/How did you know/
Logan held the book up. Liv sounded out the runes on the cover and nearly choked. ‘The Rites of Hárr’. She knew that name. That was one of the many titles of Óðinn.
“Ho-ly fu-king shit…” she wheezed.
“I know what Old One-Eye did to you,” he assured. “Grant my family sanctuary. Give my children a safe place to lay their heads, and I will share everything I know. About your condition, about the cultists, about the world beyond, all of it.” He lowered the book again. “I know you can’t leave your dungeon. But I can. I can bring you anything you need from outside.” He dropped his eyes to the ground. “Please. This is my only chance. The only safe haven I can trust. You guarded them once. I am begging you. Keep them safe within your territory, and I will be in your debt. I will do what you ask. Fetch what you need. Answer anything I can. Please…”
Logan rambled on, pleading to the statue as Liv took many long moments to consider his offer. Eventually, Harrier shambled in, brushing out the old runes, and wrote the longest message yet. When the leshy finally moved out of the way and allowed the pleading man to read the response, tears began to trickle down his cheeks.
/I know you as well Logan Tanner/
/I see you/
/You are as lonely as me/
He was about to speak again when he saw Harrier was still drawing more runes into the mud beside that message.
/You lost a part of yourself too/
/I wasn’t strong enough to save her/
Logan clutched his tunic to his chest, hunching inward. Though he couldn’t know it, Liv now sat beside him. Her tears were silent and unseen, but no less real.
/I am stronger now/
The first hints of hope flickered in his eyes.
/You are a good father Logan Tanner/
/I will keep you safe/
A strange breeze tugged at his cloak, though not a single blade of grass bent to the wind’s will. Liv felt a pull from the center of her chest as a fresh new thread somehow formed between them. She watched him shiver and knew that whatever this was, he felt it too. Logan wiped at his eyes and looked up to thank the statue, but the words were swallowed in a gasp of shock.
Still sniffling, Liv met his gaze and… Wait… He was looking at her. Not through her, AT her.
“Can he really see me?” Her voice was a whisper, barely daring to hope as she thought aloud. Logan's eyes roamed up and down, clearly baffled. Then he cleared his throat.
“Yes.”