~Thorben~

The remaining journey back to Farfield was uneventful, and Thorben almost forgot about all the eyes he’d seen that day. Almost. With the distraction of his companions, it was bearable. He sensed a budding friendship between Tanrin and HellsFury, and attributed it to the trouble making streak he sensed they both had. Despite the friendly banter, a sense of weariness clung to the atmosphere. A weariness that went deeper than physical tiredness. The girl still hadn’t stirred and concern gripped the party.

They made their way back into town and returned to the village inn. Thorben dismounted and gently carried the girl towards the building, with Tanrin and Mason following behind him. HellsFury hung behind, not wanting to add to the villagers’ mix of emotions that was sure to follow. Before he could so much as knock on the door, it flew open, and a middle-aged man rushed past him, throwing his arms around Mason with giant sobs filling the air. Mason’s arms wrapped around the man as a few more emaciated figures began slowly emerging from the inn.

A gray-haired woman whose back stooped with age approached Tanrin. The fire behind her eyes seemed to reignite as her eyes fell on Leah. “How can this be?”

Luckily, Thorben had thought to put up his hood and answered. “I told you that your town would be a good town again. The Duke and most of his men are dead. The ones that aren’t will be if they ever return to his former keep. Do you have a healer for the girl?” The woman’s hand trembled as she motioned for him to follow her inside.

“Can this be? You really returned? This is not a dream?” She guided him to a room on the main floor.

“It is no dream, but at least the nightmare is over.”

Tears slid silently down the woman’s cheeks, her eyes radiated joy and gratitude. She motioned for him to lay the girl on the bed and examined her. A soft, green glow emanated from her hands. The girl’s color visibly improved and her breathing seemed stronger. The woman sat down on the bed next to the girl. Thorben couldn’t hide the flash of surprise that lit up his eyes. The woman was a healer. While not unheard of, they were extremely rare and typically in the service of nobility. It was nigh on inconceivable that a village the size of Farfield would have one.

“Please, young man, lower your hood. My name is Sophie Rodriguez, but everyone calls me Abuela. I would look on the face of the hero who has saved our town, as well as my apprentice.” Abuela asked.

“I’m not sure that is a good idea,” Thorben said hesitantly.

“Please,” Abuela insisted.

Thorben was raw. He simply wanted to sit in the presence of a positive result. One of the few positive outcomes of the last day was this village being saved, and he wanted to enjoy it before his debuff caused him to be run out. Abuela focused on him and he could tell she wouldn’t let it go. With a sigh, he lowered his hood and met Abuela’s gaze. He saw her eyes widen in horror, her chest began to rise and fall quicker, and her muscles tensed. Before she could cry out in fear, a voice from the doorway cut through it. “Thank you, stranger. Thank you. I thought my son was dead, and I wanted nothing more than to join him in the afterlife, but you saved us both.”

Thorben turned to meet the man’s gaze, expecting him to react like Abuela. He not only stood his ground, but moved towards Thorben with an outreached hand. Staring at it, Thorben felt himself raise his hand to shake it, as if in a dream. “I can never repay you. I acknowledge that debt publicly, with Abuela as my witness. In thanks, I will offer whatever help I can,” the man said as he glanced at Abuela. It took a moment, but Thorben recognized him as the man who had rushed to embrace Mason. He took his hand without thinking.

Thomas Eder is offering to trade. Do you accept?

Thorben quickly declined the offer. “You owe me nothing. Keep your coin. You and the boy will need it.”

“I insist. Please. You have given me back my reason for living.” Mr. Eder said. He reached his hand out again.

“No, please. You have been through enough. I only did what anyone would do. Payment is unnecessary. Keep your coin. Seeing you with your son is compensation enough.” Thorben said. He meant every word. The image of the man embracing his son was a balm to his soul.

Positive Karmic Gain: Due to your selfless act, you have gained positive karmic standing. In general, the Citizens of Farfield will view you as an ally.

Abuela took this all in and shook her head. “Forgive me. I was surprised. I knew not what to expect from under your hood, and rushed to judgment,” she said. “We all falsely expect our savior and Prince Charming to fit a certain mold, and I am ashamed to say I fell into the same category. A man who did what you did, at substantial risk and with no potential for personal gain, deserves nothing but our respect. No matter how they appear.”

Thorben was shocked at the impact that a father’s love could have on a situation, but wouldn’t reject it. Instead, he held out his hand to Abuela. After a quick glance, she gripped his hand.

You have initiated a trade with Sophie Rodriguez. Waiting for acceptance.

She initially denied Thorben’s request, but after he insisted several times, she accepted, but her grip faltered when his offer was displayed.

“I can’t accept!” Her shock clear in her soft voice.

“Yes, you can. This village is going to need this. Trust me, I saw what the Duke did, and understand the impact on you.” They stared into each other’s eyes, searching for understanding. Thorben could see the moment her eyes found it, the healer in her seeing the state of his soul. He needed this and didn’t want to beg.

“Thank you,” she said. Her tone acknowledging her understanding of his need. Her words thanking his sacrifice. Tear-filled eyes provided the beginning of a balance to the rest of his day’s collection. He knew…she knew… they accepted.

Trade Accepted.

Just like that, half of the coin looted during the last day switched to Abuela’s possession. She focused her attention back on the young girl.

Positive Karmic Gain: Due to your selfless act, you have gained positive karmic standing. In general, the Citizens of Farfield will view you as a friend.

Quest Updated:

Duke McDingleberry: Help the citizens of Drazalar. Investigate the bandits’ claims of ducal support. You have freed the citizens of Drazalar from the rule of the corrupt Duke McGuire. Investigate further in Eleytol to ensure the corruption hasn’t spread to the King. Take appropriate action.

Optional: Set the village of Farfield on a path to return to its former glory. You have returned hope to a people on the verge of eradication. (Completed)

He knew he had a lot of information to review in his HUD, but at the moment, he just wanted to breathe. Apparently, money can buy friends, he thought with a chuckle.

“So when are we getting back to the dungeon rewards?” Tanrin asked. His voice was but a soft breeze.

“Soon, but we have people to put to rest first.” Thorben took one last glance around the room before heading outside. As they began their journey back to the keep, Thorben noticed more and more heads poking out from behind curtains. The townsfolk must have sensed a change to the status quo, and risked a look out their doors. A few even met his eyes, one giving a nod of acknowledgment. None approached, as his debuff prevented that, but no one had grabbed pitchforks and torches. Baby steps. He could feel the itch of curious eyes boring into the back of his head, which, given the alternative, provided him with a sense of tenuous inner peace. While he couldn’t completely put aside the events of the day, it had blunted the edge of his despair.

As he glanced over, he could see relief in Tanrin’s eyes. He didn’t need to say anything. They had always been able to read each other like a book. A smile crept onto his face. They both glanced towards their pink, tattooed companion, who was still lost in introspection. “Hey Hells? Are those tattoos of yours the same as the ones you have in the world you’re from?” Thorben asked.

HellsFury looked askance at him as they plodded along the road. “From what I can see. Yes. Why?”

“What’s that heart that’s right above your rump, right above your tail, represent?”

“On my what? The heart with two wings on the side with the word mom on the inside?” Hells asked.

“No, the wings are on your sides. Figured that was part of the whole unicorn thing. The heart is on your rump. Think of it as the small of the back on a human body.” Thorben said.

“Mother...!” HellsFury’s screaming tirade started, and went on for an impressively long time. Thorben filed away a few words that showed promise, and would ask what they meant when Hells calmed down. He was extremely upset about this so called ‘tramp stamp.’ Hell’s language was colorful and made Aldwin’s word choice seem like that of a priest. Eventually, the labored breathing eased and Hell’s shade of pink returned closer to normal.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“So that heart represents your mom? Is she the tramp that stamped you? Is that like a rite of passage?” Tanrin inquired. The unicorn erupted into a profanity laden monologue, which ended with: “Fuck this! I quit!” With which he blinked out of existence.

They looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. “Maybe he’ll come back?” Tanrin said. “I really want to know about the tramps and their magical stamps. Think they improve attributes? Or are they more utility in function?”

“How would I know? You’ve seen just as many magical tattoos as I have. Being as his was magic from another world, I’d say that it could be just about anything. I’m guessing that tramp stamps will become the new popular thing, especially amongst the nobles. The rich get all the cool stuff.” Thorben replied, shrugging his shoulders.

The conversation turned to plans for the keep. Thorben had informed his brother about his claiming ownership. Most of Tanrin’s ideas revolved around ale. Upon hearing this, Thorben knew his brother was doing just fine. The brotherly banter was helping his current mindset. He could still feel the overwhelming pressure that he had shoved into his mind box, but he felt he had a chance to manage it.

The afternoon turned into evening as they passed by the barn they had stored their horses in last time. A familiar voice called out, “Alright, listen up. I’m only going to say this once. If I hear that phrase used to describe my tattoos ever again, I will impale you with my horn and dance on your corpses.” He paused speaking and waited for a response.

“Okay, sure,” Thorben said.

“Not sure why you would be upset with a rare magical treasure, but okay,” Tanrin said.

“A tramp stamp is a phrase in our world that describes a tattoo on a woman’s lower back, especially women of questionable repute. Now don’t get me wrong I’m a fan of women with these features, but my mother isn’t one and neither am I! Never badmouth a biker’s mom if you want to live.” HellsFury stopped talking and resumed walking next to them in silence.

As comprehension dawned on the boys, they worked hard to suppress their laughter. They’d inadvertently called his mom the equivalent of a street worker. After composing themselves, they attempted to placate the still miffed unicorn. “We are sorry for unintentionally insulting your mother. That is an unknown phrase in Baherune. Tattoos in Baherune are the product of magical artists. They typically imbue someone with the ability to use a specific spell occasionally, or in even more rare cases buff the person’s natural abilities. We assumed that this was the case, and that your mother was a magical artist who was using a new technique.”

This helped to further calm HellsFury. “No harm done. I had time to think after reappearing in that damn doorway. There is a lot I don’t know about this world. Mind if I stick with you for a while to learn what I can, so I can avoid accidental insults and assholes with rusty swords?” Hells asked.

“We’d love to have you! Though our next few days are going to be unpleasant.” Thorben said.

“Kid, I’ve done lots of unpleasant things. Let’s just say that a little place called Vietnam robbed me of all my naivete and most of my ‘give a fuck.’ I’ll help how I can. You might as well call me Charlie. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to HellsFury,” Charlie, the unicorn formerly known as HellsFury, said.

At this, the group grew quiet. With each step closer to the keep, the atmosphere seemed more somber. The hard thing about banishing evil is cleaning up the mess it leaves behind in its wake. The trauma of surviving can be just as punitive as the initial trauma itself. A comfortable silence descended as the three adventurers mentally prepared themselves for what was to come.

As they walked through the gates, evening was well into its final transition to night. They were forced to admit that they would have to wait until morning and began selecting the best lodging. As they got the horses settled, Thorben had thought of offering the stables to Charlie but based on what he knew of his temperament, decided to just follow the unicorn’s lead. His mind’s eye bombarded him with images from the battles earlier in the day when he entered the yard. Sweat broke out on his brow, and he closed his eyes to regain control of himself. His eyes opened and immediately locked onto the cages. Knowing that he was close to being drug back into a state of despair, he ripped them away and stormed across the bridge back into the inner courtyard.

They bunked in the guest wing for the night as they weren’t sure what horrors awaited them in the ducal wing. This also put them close to the kitchen, which was well stocked and clean. Even evil wannabe dictators and their minions need to eat. They found a good sized room that fit them all and drug over the bedding from another room for Charlie to lie in the room’s corner.

As his head hit the pillow, right before the sweet embrace of unconsciousness, he was jolted awake by a rapid blinking of an increasingly bright HUD notification light. It seemed almost frantic. What in all the hells is going on right now? Can’t a man sleep in peace? He thought as begrudgingly he opened the offending notification.

Dungeon Loot Box will expire in 28m:34s if left unclaimed. All unclaimed rewards will be forfeit upon dungeon reset.

As Thorben read the notification, he watched the seconds tick down. The words of the Duke came back to him. “Shit,” he said as he sat up and reached for his boots.

“Damn it brother! Lay down and shut up! I’m tired.” Tanrin said, throwing a pillow over his head to muffle the noise.

Thorben glanced over at Charlie, who was lying on his back all four legs up in the air with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. He had already resumed snoring. “Can’t. I need to go claim some loot. Though I can keep your share too, I’ve been meaning to save up for …”

Tanrin was up and pulling his boots on before Thorben could finish his sentence. “Wake up, you sparkling surly steed! We have dungeon loot to find and claim!”

Charlie opened one eye, his ridiculous sleeping pose on full display. “I’ll stay here and get some beauty sleep. Wouldn’t get any anyhow. I wasn’t in your group to help clear it.”

“Alright, goodnight. We will be back shortly.” Tanrin called back as they headed out the door.

“Hey Tanrin!” Charlie called out, causing Tanrin to peek back around the door frame.

“Yeah?”

“Call me sparkly again and I’ll cover my skin in your blood. Goodnight.” Charlie rolled over and went to bed.

With that cheerful visual, they made their way to the barracks. They remembered the location of the dungeon from their previous explorations. Luckily, the door to the dungeon was outside, just down a way from the barracks’ entry. They didn’t have to enter the barracks to get there. As much as Thorben liked to think he was okay, he knew he shouldn’t go back in there today. He’d have to sometime, just not tonight. As they walked through the steel cell doors, a prompt floated in front of his eyes.

Dungeon entered. The recommended party size is 4. Enter at your own peril. (Mazoga’s Training Ground)

They proceeded down that worn stone stairs that circled deeper down. The flickering lit torches shed enough light for them to see to the bottom. At least it wasn’t an endless spiral down into the depths of the earth.

“If I pushed you down these stairs, how long do you figure you’d fall?” The mock innocence in Tanrin’s voice eased the uneasy feeling in Thorben’s gut.

“Not far enough to stop smelling you.” Thorben knew if he had turned his head to look back at his brother, he was sure he would have seen him sniffing his armpit and looking affronted.

“Harsh, I’ll have you know that all the ladies find my scent intoxicating. While in the capital, I had to let many a beauty down gently. They were constantly throwing themselves at me,” He protested. “It was always ‘I’ll leave my man for you’ or ‘Let’s run away together.’” He paused for dramatic effect, before continuing in an overly tired voice, “When I was searching the Great Library, I bumped into a beautiful woman who tirelessly worked to convince me it was love at first sight. It wasn’t until after she had left with a broken heart that Jerry told me it was the queen.”

Thorben knew better than to point out the falsehoods, his brother hated being interrupted. Tanrin had always been one for exaggerated and self-deprecating humor. It was best simply to ride it out, and let him get it out of his system. Aside from Tanrin’s banter, the journey through the dungeon was uneventful. Mazoga hadn’t been lying about that at least.

While there weren’t many dangers, he still wouldn’t classify it as a pleasant stroll. It was still a massive functioning dungeon with damp, moldy, windowless cells where despair seemed to have soaked into the stones themselves. Their only company was the sound of their footsteps echoing around them, and the occasional sputtering of the torches that had all been mysteriously lit. The dungeon was laid out in a rectangular counter clockwise spiral, each side a gradual descent down into decently sized open square rooms that made up each corner. It felt as though they had been walking forever, but the dungeon loot timer showed they still had fifteen minutes. Not knowing how much farther they had to go, they picked up the pace. Of course, neither brother wanted to be outdone, and it devolved into a race of barely controlled dirty tricks. A clipping of the heel here, a shoulder pit maneuver there. As they approached the bottom floor, the atmosphere of the dungeon changed and a door appeared on their left-hand side.

It was a massive set of double doors with an intricate embossed mural crafted of various precious metals and gemstones. The center of the mural was a mystical looking purple and deep blue double spiral. It appeared as if a plethora of monsters was flooding out of it, all with eyes made of blood red rubies. The monsters stood on a sheet of sparkling brown and dull red gemstones, as if it was in its death thralls. The ground further away was a beautiful emerald. A sense of loss accompanied the image. He looked upwards towards the top of the door and saw a grotesque head complete with stark black horns shrouded in the night clouds. Its skin was an intricate blend of various shades of red. The sinister smile seemed to promise pain. Its eyes landed on Thorben like a sucker punch to the gut. They seemed to see to the core of his being, and he could have sworn they twinkled as the deaths of the day flooded through his mind unbidden. Scarier yet, he had seen those eyes before, when Alfred had handed him the hand mirror.

Before he could give it more thought, the doors creaked open. In the middle of the room was a golden chest, a golden light emanated from it. Red lightning twisted through and around the air, immediately surrounding it. The brothers looked at each other. “Time for some treasure!” Tanrin raced towards the box. Thorben had held back his new found speed on their race down, but he couldn’t let his brother reach the box first. Not after seeing those eyes. He embraced his new active meditation technique that increased his speed and threw open the lid as Tanrin was still halfway to the door.

Rewards:

Scroll of Identification

Enchanters Scribe

Health Potion x 5

Mana Potion x 5

Stamina Potion x5

The lid slammed shut after dispensing his loot carefully on the floor in front of him. The strange light around it dimming as it did so. “Well, apparently, that is safe enough.” He said, gesturing towards the chest, inviting his brother to open it.

“Oh gee, thanks my hunk of a hero! What ever would I have done without you to make sure a wooden box wouldn’t attack me? Damned super speed.” He said as he opened the box. A necklace, a battle axe and some potion bottles softly landed at his feet. The treasure chest disappeared with a poof of red smoke.

“This stuff looks pretty sweet! What’d you get?” Tanrin asked him. Thorben couldn’t help but chuckle, as his brother’s face was identical to how it looked during his name day parties.

“Let’s get it back to our room and we can dig into it there.” Thorben replied. As he reached for his pack, he slapped himself on the forehead. “My pack is back in the room.”

“Mine too,” Tanrin said sheepishly.

Thorben grabbed the front of his tunic and lifted it up to create a makeshift pouch. “Well, it looks like we are going ‘old school.’”

Tanrin smiled as he piled the potions carefully into his brother’s tunic. He grabbed the jewelry and battleaxe, and they headed back out of Mazoga’s Training Center.