“EVERYBODY IN THE WATER!!!!”
Liv wasn’t any kind of expert on the subject, but she was sure any fire that big was a hazard. She couldn’t feel the heat yet so it wasn’t nearby- wait… Would she even feel the heat?
“DAMN IT!!”
Turning towards her critters, she thanked the gods that most of them were semi-aquatic aside for Bob, Bushwhacker, and Koosh. That trio all clung to the mangrove tree now, the former two shaking in terror as the firelight made the shadows around them squirm and writhe.
Liv paced around, desperately trying to think of an answer but finding none. Nothing she had learned so far could possibly protect them all from a raging inferno. Eventually, she resigned herself to sitting with everyone else, amidst the roots of the lonely tree. Masque slid up beside her, floating on the surface of the scum-covered pond, and made a muffled whining sound Liv had never heard before.
“I know, buddy… I’m scared too.” All she could do was wait and pray.
—
By the wee hours, Liv had realized that the fire didn’t seem to be getting any closer. And with the dawn, she had ascertained that the inferno seemed to have dwindled if the thinning smoke was any indication. With no way to investigate beyond her borders, she’d been left to wonder just what had caused the terrifying event. In the following days, she’d even sent Bob out with instructions to scout the area and return. Sadly, Bob was far from the brightest of creatures, and while he’d done as asked no useful information was gathered.
So with no closure for the mystery within her grasp, Liv had once again redoubled her renovation efforts. Thankfully her new grass patch was growing in the opposite direction as the fire, or she might have worried about providing a flammable pathway to her home. Normally this wouldn’t be a concern, but the grass she’d altered grew outward at an almost alarming rate. A grass patch expanding by perhaps an inch or so a day doesn’t sound like much until you realize it can double the surface area coverage in about two weeks without any assistance from her at all.
Of course, that could go a lot faster if she invested some time and energy into it. She stood now in the center of the oblong patch of quick-grass, and completed her daily routine of dumping about 25 SP into it. She smiled as she watched the patch surge westward, expanding by about 10 square feet. It wasn’t long ago that 25 SP was literally everything she had. Her smile widened as she looked at her self-made status bar.
—
[Current SP: 100]
[Max SP: 120]
[Regen: 3.3 per hour]
[Time till full regen: 36h 20m]
—
The grass wasn’t a very efficient source of SP regeneration compared to other plants, but in just three days of assisted expansion, the patch had grown to cover about 180 square feet, revealing a flat, marshy expanse. Inefficiencies aside, that much growth had significantly increased her available resources.
“Congratulations Liv, you’ve committed the war crime of bringing inter-dimensional Kudzu for fantasy land.” she joked as she stood up and went through the motions of dusting herself off. There was no point in doing so, but it was the little things that made her still feel human despite her strange new existence. Her brow furrowed then as the punk squinted into the mist at the farthest edge of her patch of swamp.
Dashing across the green swath, she leered into the fog and a feral grin spread across her face. She could see the shadowed outline of a copse of mangrove trees just beyond her borders. It looked like a dense row of the things!
“Oh my gods, come to MAMA!” she cheered. She knelt down to plunge a little extra SP into her grass patch to close the distance, but then she paused. The last tree she’d claimed had come with a pretty dangerous encounter. Granted, she had Masque now, but he was hardly invincible and nowhere near as agile or dangerous out of the water. She had no way of knowing what kind of dangers could be lying in wait within those trees. Going in blind was stupid.
Scouting hadn’t accomplished much thus far. Wile HAD eventually found a leech for her, so retrieval was possible, but she had no real way of gathering useful information. She supposed she could send Masque out to search for threats with instructions to run home if it was too scary, but then her home would be defenseless, and what if the threat just followed him back? He wasn’t terribly fast. She needed something strong, quick, and adaptable to various terrains. It was time to make a new monster.
An idea came to her then. Glancing at her available SP, she decided she had enough to spare. So she held out her hands and concentrated on a distinct mental image. This in itself was a bit of an experiment, as she wasn’t sure if she had to speak aloud to call something into being or if she could simply will it into existence.
In her mind, she pictured herself building an encounter for her old D&D game. Taking the large constrictor snake Masque had defeated, and adding on the same giant template she’d used on her salamander that day. She imagined lovingly painting the miniature in mottled greens and yellows, with lambent orange eyes. She knew it had worked when the sudden drain on her SP hit her like a gut punch.
Her eyes snapped open as she staggered. That had taken a HUGE amount of her energy; at least half! But her concern faded as she saw her newest addition to the family. Mottled shades of emerald and jade flecked the deep green scales of an absolute BEAST of a creature. She hadn’t really known what to expect when she boosted the thing’s size, but holy crap. Nearly twenty feet of jungle-themed snake lay around her in a circle. It was thicker than her arm and its wedge-shaped head was bigger than her hand.
“Woah! Nice!” Liv clapped her hands silently. With deft strokes of her practiced hands, she traced out the floating status bar above the serpent’s head. It wasn’t necessary and didn’t really DO anything, but creating one for every one of her critters was one of her few joys these days. Before long, the snake had an elite marker similar to Masque’s, announcing it as Nicki, a level five Anaconda.
“Okay, Nicki! I want you to slither out there into that fog and search for threats in the roots of those trees. If you can’t eat it or scare it off, try to lure it back here so you and Masque can tag team it!” The hollow clapping sound of Masque snapping his broad jaws on empty air get like a note of displeasure.
“Oh come off it! It’s not the same snake!” she chided her first guardian. “Nicki is our new friend!” She motioned excitedly towards the massive serpent, who was already slithering off into the unknown. Masque snapped again, using the fact that she was now watching him to signal with his head towards the east. Liv followed his gaze looking for some sign of trouble when she noticed the sounds of distant voices.
“OH, GODS! VISITORS!! PLACES EVERYONE!!”
—
Emma sat atop Gilly, legs and back sore from a day of riding. It was late and they would need to make camp soon. Torches would give away their positions, so they had to travel with the light. She was silently lamenting the idea of sleeping in the muck when she caught a glimpse of an ideal spot from between the trees. A small grassy clearing on an island of sorts. Just a big marshy bar surrounded on all sides by the shallow, flowing waters of the delta. The grass would lend stability to the soil, and the row of mangroves on one side would lower their chances of being spotted by anything coming from the west.
Turning around in her saddle, she cupped her hands about her face and gave four piercing, high-pitched whistles, followed by three lower warbles. The others weren’t as well acquainted with the wilderness, but Logan would recognize the call of the water thrush and know to bring the others this way. She gave Gilly a gentle kick and spurred her into a run. An upwards whistle signaled her companion to jump, sailing over the six or so feet of running water to land in the grass on the other side.
“Good girl.” she cooed, hopping off and scratching the panting hound behind the ears. Gilly enjoyed the contact for a moment before flopping gracelessly onto her side to rest. “Hey! My tent is down there!” Emma chided, laughing as she tried to convince the dog to roll over. Gilly nipped at her playfully before finally rolling up to lay on her belly and allow Emma access to her saddle bags.
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She’d just poured clean water into a bowl for Gilly when she heard the splashing footsteps of the others crossing the stream.
“Bullocks!” Magne softly cursed as they waded. The dwarf had their robes pulled up about their stout waist, and their lengthy blonde beard tossed back over their shoulder. “My boots will never dry at this rate!”
“Then don’t wear them,” Liam replied. The lanky elvish man easily leaped across the water, his bare toes digging into the soft soil upon landing.
“Can’t harden up those feet of yours if they’re always covered.”
“After seeing your gnarled bunions? No thanks.” Logan tossed in his two cents with a smirk. The light-hearted exchange was somewhat dampened by their quiet voices and cautious eyes. Just because they hadn’t run into any of the damned lizards yet didn’t mean they weren’t out there.
—
“Oh my gods! It’s Mister Halfling!” Liv cheered when Logan materialized out of the fog. She looked over the others as they gathered together. A tall, muscular elvish man with wild unkempt hair wore hardy trousers and little else. A Fighter perhaps? Then came a dwarf that just screamed ‘Friar Tuck’ vibes, who her years of fantasy genre experience told her had to be some sort of caster. There was little mister ranger, of course, and that left the other halfling. Liv wasn’t sure what box to fit her into yet.
“Awww! You got yourself an adventuring party! Look at you!” It had most definitely been too long since she’d interacted with another person…
She watched as the group moved with practiced precision, setting up a small camp on the driest ground they could find. The lady Halfling ranged out at one point, returning a short while later with her shirt bundled over her shoulder in a makeshift satchel, her leather vest leaving her arms bare. With a shift of her shockingly muscular shoulders, the tiny woman hauled the satchel around and dropped a broad, flat stone onto the dirt with a heavy thud.
“Goddamn, girl! You’re a frickin UNIT.” Liv exclaimed to her audience of one.
“Will that do?” she asked the other Halfling.
“Perfect!” The ranger chirped. “Thanks, love.” The tiny man punctuated his praise with a peck of a kiss on her lips.
“Wait. She’s with you?! Is this-“ Liv wracked her brain for a moment to recall the name. “Marly?” She circled around to get a better look at the couple. “Daaamn Halfling Lad, gettit!”
Grinning from ear to ear, she sat invisibly beside them as they gathered around the stone on the soft grass. Friar Tuck spoke first, muttering in… was that Old Norse? Liv leaned in just in time to hear something about ‘Thunor’ before the dwarf pulled out a small hammer and smacked it against the stone. The ethereal woman blanched instinctively, expecting shattered bits of stone to go flying, but instead, the stone only glowed with a dim red light and sizzled for a moment as the moisture clinging to it evaporated. She stared in wide-eyed awe at the stone which now radiated heat, gasping deeply as her excitement overwhelmed her and-
—
Emma glanced back over her shoulder at the small pond nearby. The water below the mangrove tree there rippled violently, as if something sizable had just breached the surface.
“Everything alright, Emma?” Liam asked as he spritzed the stone with oil and began laying out broad collard leaves to cook on its surface.
“Yeah. Could have sworn I heard something. Probably just a fish.” Emma turned back towards the group. “So what’s the plan?”
“We’re about to enter The Stilts,” Logan replied. “On most maps, this delta marks the boundary. So from here on in, no more fires, and keep within shouting distance when you scout ahead. Magne?” Logan shifted his attention to the dwarf.
“Hm?” Magne grumbled in reply as they wrestled their boot off of their foot and dumped out a fair bit of water.
“According to the last census, how many more homesteads are out this way?”
“Hard to say,” They said unhelpfully as they worked on the other boot. “There are records of a few, but they’re old. There’s the Akens stead, but no one has heard from them since the Cholera outbreak of twenty-nine. The Marsh’s used to boat supplies up the river, and folk used to say they staked a claim to sommat out here. Then there’s the Frasers, but the only ones who ever had dealings with that cantankerous old bear of a man were the Nichols, gods give them rest.”
Liam scooped up the steaming greens with his knife, spritzing more oil and adding leeks and mushrooms onto the steaming surface.
“Scaly fuckers,” he snarled, eyes glued firmly to the food. “The Nichols were good folk. Always had a warm bed for travelers.” The hard-looking man sniffed, wiping at his eyes with the back of his wrist. “They’d like as not have given those lizards room and a meal if they’d been asked.”
Emma stood, walking around till she could look the elf in the eye. She said nothing, but her sad smile and gentle touch on his shoulder radiated a warm, motherly comfort. Liam touched her hand briefly in acknowledgment but remained otherwise fixated upon the evening meal.
“I know you’d rather be tracking the raiders, but…” Logan was cut off by the gruff elf.
“I know,” he snapped. “The living come before the dead.”
“Won’t be long now. These outer homesteads are likely long gone. Soon as we check them and ensure none are left in harm's way, we’ll be off to see what drove the Skethna eastward.” Magne assured.
“Why do you call them that?” Liam asked, turning the steaming vegetables.
“What? The Skethna? The pole they left outside the burned barn identified their tribe-“
“Beasts like that don’t deserve a name,” Liam growled. The group fell silent at that, tension thickening.
“It wasn’t too long ago that people said the same of mine,” Logan said grimly. Liam realized his mistake and looked instantly remorseful.
“You’re right, Logan. I’m sorry.”
Dividing the collard greens equally, he placed them on four pairs of hardtack biscuits and served them. The party ate in awkward silence as the last light of the day faded.
—
Liv sat there in stunned silence for a long while. The camp was still and quiet as the party set their watches and took to their tents, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
“The fire…” she whispered inaudibly. “It was the lizard people?” But why? They had been so polite. So respectful. She shook her head.
“That’s a load of shit, Liv. They were obviously ready for a fight. And you let them wander through, and a fight was fucking had,” she scolded herself. “Own up to your end of this, girl.”
So much for her whimsical new existence, fantasy land was just as screwed up as home.
She hugged her arms around herself, mulling it all over long into the night.
It was shortly before dawn when Logan emerged from his tent. Emma had been keeping watch, and smiled warmly when his arms encircled her from behind.
“Morning, love,” he said quietly, kissing her cheek.
“You’re up early.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Logan released his wife, stepping around to take a seat beside her. “Too many thoughts, all circling like buzzards.”
“Did you wish to share them? Or simply banish them with my company?” Emma asked, putting an arm about his shoulders.
“I was thinking about Dagny and Marla. How they wanted to come out this way. It could easily have been us who were the first victims. Or Hel, Dagny could have run into them ALONE when they went after that rabbit. We got lucky.”
Emma huffed.
“They wouldn’t have had to chase after game if that old miser fed them properly.” Liv perked up, listening more closely. Rabbit? We’re they talking about that dwarf kid?
“He gets away with it because they ‘can’t work his trade’,” Logan bracketed the latter part with air quotes.
“How is that fecking fair? It’s not their fault they can’t swim. Besides, how many of those the old man has on his boats could say the same?”
“At least half.” Logan supplied.
“At LEAST half!” Emma echoed. “And it’s not like he couldn’t find them a job on land. There’s books and ledgers to be kept. Inventory to move. But NO! The old miser just uses the same old line over and over.”
“”Got no use for folk what sink like stones,”” they both muttered in grim unison.
“Racist bastard.” Logan spat. Liv was torn between the heartwarming wholesomeness of this couple and the fiery burning rage at this mysterious old man.
“I’ve been thinking…” Emma said carefully, proverbially tiptoeing around something.
“Here it comes,” Logan whispered.
“We should contest for guardianship.”
“Emma, you know full well how that would go.”
“Money isn’t everything!” She protested. “If we got a more traditional arbitrator, we could make a case for a better familial bond.”
“Oh? And where do you propose to find an arbitrator that’s not in Marsh’s pocket?”
“Lagarheim!”
“And why would an arbitrator make the three-week journey down here from Lagarheim just to take on a case outside of their jurisdiction over a single orphan they’ve never met and have no connection to?” Logan pushed. “Emma, I understand the desire, but it’s a fool’s errand. More likely it would make Dagny’s life harder in the end.” Emma deflated at that, and Logan held her close.
Liv was already plotting the ways in which she would torment this racist old fart if she ever saw him. She waited to learn more, but the portly dwarf wandered out and yawned.
“You two done canoodling?” They teased. “Sun’ll be up soon. We should get a move on.”
“Feck off with that bushy-tailed nonsense!” came Liam’s muffled voice from inside a tent.
“Get that scrawny arse moving, Liam!”
“So said yer parent into their pillow!” the crass retort cut through the morning haze.
“Liam!” Emma scolded, only to be cut off by her husband's raucous laughter. “LOGAN!! Don’t encourage him!!”
Liv herself couldn’t help but snicker. Yo momma jokes were a universal constant it would seem. Gods but she wished they would stay… The sounds of laughter only drove home just how lonely she was out here. She followed them around the clearing like a lost pup, basking in their lively banter. So much so, in fact, that it wasn’t until they were loaded up and making their exit that she realized she had never given her critters the signal to start their carefully rehearsed plan.
“BALLS!!”