Sparks flew in brilliant flashes in the crawlspace. She flinched whenever she burnt her flesh with her torch. The crimson metal fused with the bone and muscle with relative ease. She flexed her new hand and winced as her nerves reconnected. After opening and closing her new hand a few times, she confirmed that her new prosthetic hand was in working order. It looked like a metal skeleton hand with wires attached to the base of each of her five fingers. This was only the base model and already had some ideas on how to customize it later. She went to grab a few tools to test the grip strength, finding it jarring that there was no sense of touch. While she could lift and carry the heavier tools with ease, she couldn’t feel them in her hand. She sighed deeply.
Prosthetics were very common onboard the Pillar of Stench, in fact, they were necessary to live in most cases. If you had no use, you were either the Broken or the Fodder, two of the worst clans to be in. The Fodder was self-explanatory, they were the dumb gobs that one would send to the front lines so that they would be paste on the floor or simply target practice, where the Broken were mostly spare livestock for when the other clans had a food shortage. They didn’t have access to prosthetics or anything that could benefit them or the ship. She could be a subsidiary Breeder for her clan if she wanted but was happy being a Fixer for the time being. The Fixer clan were among the most respected as they not only fixed the other clan’s tools and gear but were also responsible for keeping the ship afloat.
There were three other clans as well: The Gungineers, that worked on the ship’s armory, The Claws, known for operating the Crab Tanks in the lower deck, and finally, the Grave Breakers, the smallest clan, but were the most feared. They were the ship's enforcers as well as a special task force for things that needed to be dead yesterday. They were also, sadly, immortal, and would simply burst out of a pile of viscera somewhere on the ship whenever they hunted each other for sport. All these clans answer to one goblin, Lord Tork, the Tyrant of Stench, of whom, is why she is here, installing this new hand.
She recalled the day it happened, about a week or so ago when she was crawling through the vents. They were her preferred mode of transportation as they were less hazardous and the air in the vents was much fresher, as it was pulled from outside. She was crawling through when she heard a loud bang and the vent collapsed, sliding down and coming face to face with the tyrant. Naturally, in a panic, she threw a smoke grenade to escape, but she didn’t come out unscathed. Lord Tork, in a fit of rage, began firing randomly in all directions, and one of those shots blew off her left forearm.
Thankfully, she was able to cauterize the wound in time and got a limb replacement kit from a seller. And now she doesn’t have any food for the week and guessed it was time to check out the stuff they brought in from the village they took control over. Rumor has it that there were new food stuffs called “fruit” and “Veegee-tables” that she wanted to try. There were only so many ways to make Mystery Meat Balls taste slightly different before one gets really sick of them.
She gathered her tools and placed them back into their homes around her belt, nearly dropping a couple with her hand, still not used to it yet. Then got down on all fours and made her way down the crawlspace, her eyes readjusting to the darkness. Her arm still throbbed as she moved forward. Her people always had a strange way to synergize with Biolium, a rare blood red metal made in a lab that can easily fuse with flesh and bone. It was what made easy prosthesis and the Crab Tanks possible. The secrets to reproducing it were closely guarded and attempts to replicate it had disastrous results.
She crawled down the shaft until she found the vented window. Light peered into the vent as fresh air was being sucked in through the fan inside the door. She undid the latch and pushed it open, creaking loudly on rusted hinges, finding herself looking down a roughly five-hundred-foot drop. She could feel the hot metal through her boots from basking in the sun all day as she slowly scaled the ships side, wind rushing past her as she carefully set her feet on the narrow ledge, her fleshy fingers burning on the handles while shimmying down several feet before reaching the ladder. Against her better judgment, she looked down.
The gargantuan ship loomed over the recently captured village, resting in between the two mountain ranges, casting its shadow and robbing the village of sunlight. Any survivors were promptly captured and enslaved as her people turned this place into a proper stronghold. From what she heard was that they were still taking stock of the village's inventory as much of the procured items were alien to the appointed treasurer. It was also the first time in recorded history that they had a treasurer. Some poor gob is gonna have their work cut out for them.
She swallowed hard as she stole herself and made the climb, going up a good thirty feet before she got to the walkway where she took deep breaths. She never did well with heights but the clean air was refreshing. Her boots clanged on the steel mesh as she approached the door to her boss’s lab. Light peered into the room as the door slid to the side. Tools and mechanical limbs lined the walls and rows of workstations filled the spaces in between the large room. The smells of plasma and oil invaded her nostrils. She wished she stayed outside, but she knew she would likely be shot if she were caught idling and she couldn’t afford another limb, She has to scrounge enough food as it is.
Quickly she walked over to the assignment station, where people around the ship would queue for something that needed to be repaired and turn it into a quest based on the Fixerz skill level. Lord Mexanik, her boss, had it installed so no one bothered him while he was working on more important things. On the desk, sat another gob filling out paperwork under lamp light, rotating the page as he wrote in circles. Thick spectacles rested on his bulbous nose, making his squinted eyes seem far larger than they appear, and the long sleeves of his sweat stained shirt have been rolled up. His eyes narrowed on her as she approached and then widened upon realization. “Ah, Fritz! I heard you needed a hand.” He said, chuckling at his own joke.
Fritz internally cringed, not at the bad joke but at her own name, she always hated it. The definition of “fritz” was to be in a state of disorder or disrepair, a piece of irony that was not lost on her. She always wanted to just drop it in favor of something else. “Hey Specs, how long were you saving that one?”
“Oh… a week now? Time sorta mashes together here. Think you’re ready for an assignment?” Specs asked gesturing to the stacks of circular velum.
“What you got for me?” She asked. Specs reached over behind him and placed a sheet on the table as a notification appeared in her vision.
New Quest received: Land with a Splat
Description: Lord Krak has requested repairs on an experimental launch pod. “Please send someone up here before I come grab someone.” -Krak
Rewards:
300XP
5x MRE Food Rations
“That’s a lot of MREs, don’t the Gungineers fix their own stuff?” Fritz asked, puzzled about the quest.
“Yeah, them and the Claws have buried themselves in new projects, totally overloading the workforce. Even WE are spread thin with almost all hands-on deck. You better get going, Lord Krak actually wanted this to be done yesterday.” He said while stamping the velum, marking it as given. Fritz sighed and took the parchment, stuffing it in her pocket as she went out. She was secretly hoping for an easy day at the workbench, but no, it was never easy on Stench. She was going to inquire further on the topic but saw that Specs had already buried his nose in another page, so she took it as a cue to get going.
She walked past all the workstations towards the back of the room, stepping over tools and parts as she went. Just as chest level was another ventilation shaft. Swinging it open, she crawled in. Despite recent events, it was still her preferred method of transport, and it was still safer to travel than the corridors. After a few ups and turns, she made her way to deck three, where the Gungineers made their home. However, she crawled out the vent and the entire deck seemed void of life. The air was rife with the smell of gunpowder, the gun racks were empty, and the blood splatters on the walls, floor and ceiling were all old. Not knowing where the launch pods were, she wandered around for a bit.
She looked at all the big projects first, from the big cannons that fired ammunition bigger than herself to the small arms that laid half-finished on the tables. Blackboards where weapon concepts were drawn and discussed, showing diagrams of swords with rotating teeth and magazine fed revolvers. Fritz had to admit that they were a creative bunch. Eventually, she stumbled upon a door labeled “Testing Range” and with not much else to do she went inside.
Inside was a long room with a gun wall on one side where different guns with tags on them hung and on the other side was a row of stations separated by panels. Straight across from the door was a lever labeled “Shooting Bay Door” and without thinking she pulled it down. A loud hiss rang out, startling her as a section of the wall in front of the stations jutted forward and slowly slid upwards, revealing a sea of green before her.
She felt like she was on top of the world looking down valleys, ridges and hills, all being shown by a glorious ball of light in the sky. Birds flew by close enough to make out their beaked faces as they soured past the open window. She couldn’t enjoy it before when there was threat of falling off the ship’s side but now, she can just stand there just basking in the open space and the freshness of air. Eventually, she was satisfied and forced herself to gaze away, promising herself that there will be more sight seeing later. She walked towards the back of the room until she finally found what she was looking for. At the back there was a set of stairs going down labeled “Launch Pods.” Finally, she could get this quest over with and get those meals. Her stomach rumbled at the thought, her last meal being two days ago now.
Coming down she found herself in a similar room, poorly lit by the red crystals above she pulled the lever here as well, making a world of difference as a huge cannon-like object came into view in the light of day. She examined it closely, taking note of anything that could go wrong when she noticed the tag with a piece of wire wrapped around a handle that read “Won’t tilt up or down, Fix ASAP” and discarded it. She found her mark. The first thing she did was try to have a better understanding of how it worked. By spinning the handle on the side, it began turning towards the right and when spun the other way, it went to the left. But when she tried to spin the other handle, it wouldn’t budge. She had a feeling it might be jammed somewhere on its axis or in the gears themselves but decided to give this thing a good once over just to be safe, in case another problem sprung up on her. Her name is already on the assignment and will not have it tarnished despite her feelings towards it.
Walking around to the other side, she noticed a large wheel on the side like the wheel locks on some doors. With effort she tried to rotate it, quickly finding that it only spun in one way and as she did so, the back of the device began to come out. When the wheel wouldn’t go any further examined the section that just came out, realizing that she may have just found the loading mechanism. There was already a pod loaded inside waiting to be fired. It looked like an oil drum made to be bullet shaped. In fact, that might be exactly what it was when she got a closer look at it. There were seams along the sides, suggesting there was a door on this deathtrap. She got a flathead screwdriver in there and with little effort got it to swing open. Thankfully, there was nobody inside as the space was barely big enough to fit a goblin. But then again, this is a prototype according to the quest. Hopefully in the finale version they would install some padding and seat straps.
Now that her curiosity was sated, she decided to test her theory on the axle and carefully removed the bolts from the side panel, putting them in a neat line beside her. She pulled out her lightstick to see the gears inside and began the slow process of trial and error. Somewhere along the line, something was stuck and it wasn’t long before she found the culprit. A poorly crafted cogwheel had bent inward, causing the mechanism to jam. Through some wiggling she managed to get the ruined cog free. It was beyond her ability to repair so she threw out the window, she had no use for it. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a box of spare parts lying around, but she did find something similar nearby. Just as she slid the gear into place and tightened the bolt, she got the notification.
Quest Complete: Crashing with Style
Description: Lord Krak has requested repairs on an experimental launch pod. “Please send someone up here before I come grab someone.” -Krak
Rewards:
300XP
5x MRE Food Rations
Turn in to Specs to claim your rewards.
She did a little cheer to herself, she thought this was going to be a lot harder than it was and now she was going to have decent food for the next two days, maybe she will get a chance to try that fruit stuff! However, all thoughts of food fled her mind as she heard the door upstairs swung open.
“Right this way my Lord. I think you’ll find this next project interesting. Though do keep in mind that this is still in its early stages.” Boomed a deep voice, clearly belonging to an orc.
“All of your projects have failed to disappoint thus far, my apprentice.” Replied a familiar hallowed voice. It was unnatural and belonged to no one else but the reason she now had this new hand, Tork, the Tyrant of Stench. The Warlord that conquered the entire island and unified its inhabitants to focus on a single endeavor, to build so that they can flee. The two continued talking but the panic drowned out their voices, the only way out was the window leaving her only to hide. One such spot spoke to her, and she crawled inside the pod and closed the door. Her heart raced in her chest, so much so that she feared it would give her away. The voices grew louder, and she could make out what they were saying.
“Now with this piece, I’ve decided to take live ammunition to the next level.” He padded the pod a couple times, startling her as it reverberated. “This pod, in its current form, is designed with only one goblin in mind, though I have plans for these to fire small squads of three. Imagine, if you will, sending troops behind enemy lines or quickly sending scouting parties over long distances.”
“Interesting, is it ready for demonstration?”
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“Er… Yes! Let me start by loading the pod.” Panic flourished in Fritz’s mind as she felt the loading mechanism shift and tried to move but it was too cramped, her limbs were stuck.
“Wait! Wait! Let me out!” She shouted but to no avail she couldn’t hear them anymore on the other side, it was too muffled from the thick metal. “Stop please!” She bellowed, but no answer. Pressure seemed to build around her and she gasped for air. Tools from her belt slid out from her pockets as the canon tilted backwards. She knew that they were still talking outside but couldn’t make out the words. Tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her face. A deafening pop exploded around her as all her organs lurched. She slept in and out of consciousness as she felt weightless in the dark tomb. Feeling herself spin as vomit spewed from her mouth. She glanced at her health bar, surprised to see that it was only at about sixty percent, but just as she thought that MAYBE things were going to be okay, that got much worse as she felt the front side where her feet were tip downward. She felt herself pressed to the back of the pod, loose tools hitting her face and chest as she began her descent. All hope of survival vanished from her mind as she braced herself for the end. And it came swiftly, one moment there was an agonizing fear and in the next a dull darkness that enveloped her. Big red bold letters appeared in her vision.
YOU HAVE DIED.
Slowly, the darkness faded and all she could feel was nausea, like that time she ate a bad meatloaf MRE. There was a slight chill in the air that felt nice, so she laid there for some time before working up the nerve to get up. She could’ve sworn she just died but she guessed that she somehow survived the crash and by some miracle, remained intact. Once she was comfortable enough, she groaned as she sat up, crossing her legs and rubbing her temples. Her head was throbbing, but she knew she couldn’t stay here for long. She was on her own now, the chances of a rescue were null at best, just another casualty. It was common for gobs or orcs to go missing, often a new blood smear or pile of gore that no one will clean up.
She rubbed at her eyes with both hands and brushed her hair to the side, blinking the blurriness away. She was certain she hit her head pretty hard because when she looked at her hands, they were normal, both composed of flesh, blood and bone. Except whenever she wiggled her fingers or touched her face, it felt real. She could feel her soft cheeks and the cool dirt beneath her. It was only when she tried to reach for something to steady herself as she stood that she looked at her surroundings.
First, the stone she grabbed was a carved rectangular slab of stone. In fact, there were several of them around her, all with different shapes and sizes with words and numbers carved into them, illuminated by twilight. There were clear pathways one could walk. All the stones were inside a tall, ornate iron fence with spikes lining the top. There was no crash site or scraps of metal anywhere. She reached for her light stick, finding it absent on her belt. She cursed as she did inventory of her belongings and for good measure, checked her status page to see if there were any changes.
Name: Fritz
Age: 17
Race: Biolium-Infused Goblin
Classes: Artificer lvl 14 progress to next level: 10%
Profession: Fixer Journeyman lvl 3
Statistics:
Health: 240
Stamina: 260
Attributes:
Strength: 8
Dexterity: 26
Constitution: 24
Intelligence: 36
Wisdom: 17
Charisma: 10
{Equipment}
Rough Black Cloak
Rarity: common
Quality: poor
Item Slot: back
wool
Durability: 9/30
Tool Belt
Rarity: common
Quality: poor
Item Slot: waist
Leather
Durability: 16/40
Rough Brown Pants
Rarity: common
Quality: trash
Item Slot: legs
wool
Durability: 2/10
Rough Brown Shirt
Rarity: common
Quality: trash
Item Slot: chest
wool
Durability: 1/10
Work Boots
Rarity: common
Quality: trash
Item Slot: feet
leather
Durability: 0/20
Her cloak and tool belt were the only things still remotely usable. Her clothes were in tatters and her boots were outright destroyed with nothing to salvage. She had only a few tools left that weren’t missing or crushed, namely her pipe wrench and her crowbar. The boots were more trouble than they were worth, so she opted to go without. She looked at her hand again, still as natural as the day she was born. So many things seemed different now and her mind was overwhelmed trying to process everything. She was in a new world with nothing but the clothes on her back, a handful of items and she somehow regrew her hand. The stress was too much, and her current location wasn’t helping, she had to get out of here before she was spotted.
With caution, she crept along one of the dirt pathways, her large ears listening for any sounds she wasn’t making, cringing whenever she missed a twig or leaf. This was not an environment she was used to and had to actively look at where she placed her feet in addition to scanning her surroundings, taking cover behind the strange pillars and stone slabs as she went. Finally, while creeping along the edge, she found what looked like twin gates held together by a simple latch. They creaked open and she quickly re-latched the gate shut. It was probably shut for a reason, and she didn’t want to raise suspicion if it was found open.
New skill learned! Stealth Novice 1
Description: From a deadly assassin to a child raiding the cookie jar, this skill is favored by all who would rather be unseen.
+10% bonus when sneaking
With not much else to do she followed the dirt path that led through the strange tall pillars that seem to jut out through the dirt. She walked up to one and inspected it, curious as to why anyone would build these. The surface was dark brown and rough with several arms protruding from all directions and those arms had green things attached to them. She made a note to examine them further another time. The big light orb was setting in the horizon, and it was getting darker. She walked down the dry dirt path, weary of the arms arching overhead for fear that they might snatch her up coupled with the fact that other things were making themselves known. From little winged noise makers to furry rat-like things that scaled the columns with ease. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of rats and wondered if they were any tasty food.
She walked what she guessed was about a mile and discovered a tall wall of stone, the dirt path leading to a heavy metal door. The thought of accidentally stumbling upon her people came to mind but dismissed it as soon as it came. This was too different somehow, the details were all wrong, she needed a closer look. Mimicking the climber rats, she climbed up one of the nearby columns, using their arms as leverage and hoping they didn’t decide to attack. It helped when she pretended that she was climbing a warped ladder. Thankfully, when she got to the top, she was unscathed and found herself overlooking another village, only this one clearly had more structure and more planned out. There were people walking along the roads that were between sections of buildings like a grid. she couldn’t get full detail but knew that they weren’t orcs or goblins. Their skin was neither green or crimson, instead there were pinks and light browns.
She caught movement in the corner of her eye and saw someone walking from behind the wall. Another one in chainmail patrolling the top of the wall carrying a long-curved object with a cord attached to both ends. Fritz hid herself behind the column as it drew closer. Curious, she peeked an eye over an arm. She could see its face framed by the chainmail, showing aged masculine features as he scanned his surroundings, walking past her hiding spot. She let out a sigh of relief as she rested on the rough surface and began weighing her options.
On one hand, she could try her luck sneaking in the village, hiding in the shadows and snatching food scraps. There were bound to be plenty of places to hide in and she smelled good things even from where she sat. Or she could turn back and deal with unknown forces, constantly watching over her shoulder wondering if something bigger would jump out and eat her in one go. There might be a chance she could find the ship again but who knows where or how far that is. She turned around, seeing the mountains in the distance and if she had to guess, the ship would be somewhere over there. But did she want to go back?
Looking back on it, struggle and strife were constantly present in the lives of everyone both on the island and the ship. This was a land of opportunity, and her old way of life was no longer necessary. Food, materials, and land were no longer scarce as this new world was bountiful with plenty room to grow. The need to divide and conquer has become obsolete. She just hoped her people could realize that. There was no way she could go back; she would die trying long before she could get close and trying to survive among the wildlife seemed futile at best. The path forward became obvious, and the decision has been made; her new life is here.
She scanned the walls, counting at least eight guards that she could see, some standing idle while others walked a section of the wall. She watched as they swapped places with whoever was standing and that person would walk a different section, going clockwise. As the light in the sky went out, they left torches and lanterns, carrying them with them as they rotated in intervals of four guards, one walking their own walls. She considered leaping off from the end of an arm from her column but the thought of falling and landing made her second guess herself, falling was an experience she didn’t want to repeat again unless she had to.
She carefully climbed back down and looked at the door again. There was no handle or wheel, only a closed slot for someone to peek through, meaning that door was only meant to open from the inside. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness as she crept around, using her cloak to cover herself as much as possible. On the far-right side there was a reinforced wooden gate, decorated with carvings decrypting strange creatures on either side of the heavy doors. More guards stood at either side, though there was one sitting at a covered station near the gate, resting its chin the palm of its hand while sitting at a desk, looking half asleep.
In the distance, there was another light approaching, illuminating a covered wagon being pulled by two four-legged beasts with long heads. This was her chance, her way in without snapping her legs. She withdrew further back into the foliage and ran parallel towards the wagon before it reached the gate. Then she got the clearing, she got down to her stomach and crawled towards the road like she would in the ventilation system. Unfortunately, there were several lamp posts spaced out, illuminating the road, so she waited at the edge of the light as the clopping feet drew closer. She checked the walls, making sure that no one was watching and just as the wagon was passing by, she leapt towards it on a full sprint and sled underneath between the wheels and wrapped herself around the undercarriage, grasping for dear life. With effort, she righted herself up so she wasn’t upside down and dragging her hair in the dirt.
The sound of clip clopping and wheels turning echoed around her but through it there was another, unfamiliar sound. It was slow and melodious, simple, yet refined. It was like tasting sweetness in her ears, if only she could hear it better through her surroundings. Every so often, there was an “off” sound that seemed to be a mistake, but it was immediately corrected, and it continued. When it was over, she could hear sharp slapping noises followed by words of encouragement.
“You’re getting better I can tell!” Said a smooth voice.
“Oi look! I got me musicianship skill to novice three!” Exclaimed an excited gruff voice.
“Took yah long enough, mate, ya should wait until yaw in the apprentice ranks befoah yah do any big gigs.” Another voice suggested, this one talked funny.
“Looks like you’re just in time, look we’re almost there. What’s the plan, Bill, same as last time? More potato salad?”
“Nah this place ain’t as fancy, it's more of a ‘get in, get out’ kinda deal. This town is a bit sketchy to put it nicely so watch your pockets. I don’t wanna stay here longer than we have to so we’ll spend the night, get what we need in the morning, then be gone by the evening.” Said the man up front piloting the two beasts. He was more raspy sounding.
“Should we skip doing a gig tonight?” Said smooth voice.
“You don’t have to, just don’t expect your usual crowd. These folk are a bit rough around the edges, fighting off blurgins from the north and orc bandits from the south. Oh, you might want to lay low here, Durgen.”
“Oi! Naow you tell us! See I told ya this was a bad idea!” Exclaimed the funny voice.
“Relax and keep your voice down; this is an easy fix. When we get to the gate, curl up in a ball there and leave the rest to me, okay?” Smooth voice instructed.
“Okay, but what’s a blurgin?” The gruff voice, presumably the one called Durgen.
“Savage fish folk, you’ll know when they’re near ‘cause they make a gurgling sound when they're charging up to ya.” Explained the one called “Bill.”
“We’re almost at the gates, Durgen now!” Smooth voice whispered followed by a quick rustling from above. The wagon slowed to a stop and Fritz froze, hoping her new stealth skill would be enough.
“Welcome to Darlington, please state your name, business and duration of stay. We are not liable for any stolen goods left unattended.” Spoke a new robotic sort of voice, the type that rehearsed the same phrase repeatedly throughout the day.
“William le Vieil Homme Triste, but folks just call me Bill. We’re just passing through on our way to Ravenport and will be gone by evening.” There was the familiar sound of scribbling on velum, then Fritz could see a pair of metal boots appear from behind the table.
“I need to inspect your wagon before you enter, this would only take a moment.” The boots spoke before walking around the wagon towards the back. She watched with wrapped attention, her heart beating rapidly. They paused at the back, only two voices greeted, and the guard drearily returned their greeting. From what she could gather, there was an orc up there that they were harboring. Was he the one making those sweet sounds just a minute ago?
“All clear!” the guard in boots shouted, pulling Fritz from her train of thought. The two heavy wooden doors slowly swung open, and the wagon continued forward, the doors closing behind them as they passed. She could see several pairs of feet pushing the doors closed. A new notification appeared in her vision.
Congratulations! Your Stealth skill has increased to Novice:2!
Your Stealth skill has increased to 12%!
It wasn’t much of an increase, but she had a feeling more opportunities to level it up further as time went on. The wagon continued for less than a minute before it came to another stop. She looked around her surroundings, noticing bright flickering lights to her right as more rustling came from above. Three sets of feet planted themselves on the ground followed by the sounds of groans and the popping of joints. The fourth pair of feet beckoned someone over and two smaller pairs came running, stepping into the light.
“Take care of my horses, would you ladies?”
“Yes, sir!” They said simultaneously, a hint of excitement in their voices as they ran to care for the “horses” as he called them.
“Jeez, Bill, two gold? That’s probably more than they make in a month.” Said the smooth voice while walking over. The other two pairs followed, one significantly larger than the others. Yup, clearly an orc. It had a green cloak around him, hanging just at the knees.
“You gotta pay a little extra for quality these days, Kael. Plus, I like the smile on their faces, they really let up! Makes me wish I had kids of my own…” Bill said solemnly.
“Keep your chin up, Bill, its not too late just yet. Durgen, do you wanna grab that guitar that you were using?”
“Ah, sure why?” Durgen asked, while going around to the back.
“Because; you’re going to do your first show tonight, silly.” Kael said simply.