With the giant behind us, Meg agrees to return to the main road. As we pick our way through the undergrowth, I check out the definitions of the two achievements I received, assuming they’re responsible for my progression.
> [LONG SHOT. Special Achievement. You hit a target at more than 250 feet with your starting elven long bow. That should be impossible!]
>
> [HIDE AND TREMBLE. Special Achievement. Sometimes you fight and sometimes that’s a stupid idea. You did not make the stupid mistake— and you lived!]
So far, though, [Level 2] doesn’t feel all that different from [Level 1], but I guess I wouldn’t really expect it to; at least, not without assigning [Skills] points or whatever. I’ll do that when I have a chance to sit down alone, when I can actually think about it. It’s not something I want to do on the go with residual giant-induced adrenaline in my system.
If I leveled up, did any of the others? Tyrus at least must have, though I doubt he would have received the same [Achievements] I did. Maybe the [Hide and Tremble] one. Though I doubt they really receive [Achievements] at all. At least not the way I do.
When they do level up, what does that look like for them? Is there anything specific that tells them, or do they just kind of inherently know? Do they get to assign [Skills], or are they on an “automatically apply” kind of path?
And what is their definition? Are they NPCs? Does it matter if they are? Even if this were a game I was playing, NPCs still matter. At least companion NPCs. They have their own backstories and goals. Their own impact. They do matter. I look around between them, at the small ways they’re interacting with one another: Tyrus chatting quietly with Jonas, who occasionally does a wordless check-in with Meg. Flynt walks next to me in silence but every now and then draws a deep breath as if to say something— and then deciding not to.
I wonder what his deal is. Maybe if I were a stone-cold hottie I could kind of see it— the type of woman who people just notice and are instantly drawn to. But even with the whole suddenly I look like I’m ten years younger thing, I’m not a perfect 10, and that’s not just me being modest. So that’s unlikely to be the thing getting Flynt’s attention. Maybe I remind him of someone? Or maybe he really does just want to help. Then there’s the whole round out the party idea… Maybe it’s my bow he’s into.
Coming back through the gate is easy with our stamped quest sheet and the small sack of smelly goblin ears. The group of us descend the Noble Gate hill back toward the city center. The wind picks up as we do, coming in off the harbor, and I’m freezing but try not to let that show. I know I fail miserably by the way every single one of my compatriots looks at me.
The bell strikes eight by the time we reach the square, and the municipal office is shut, so we prepare to go our separate ways for the evening, resolving to meet up there at the same time in the morning. Meanwhile, the others persuade me to keep the now double-sacked ears in my magical bag where they’ll be preserved until we can use them as our proof tomorrow.
“Still seems like an awful lot of work to split two gold pieces,” Tyrus grumbles as we prepared to part. “Could have made twenty silvers working at my family’s leather works.”
I rub my arms to try to keep warm. “Leather works?”
“Not every dwarf likes the forge,” Tyrus replies. “We’re leather workers. Frankly, though, I’d prefer the forge. It’s a lot less smelly.”
“It would be more money, yes, but not more experience,” Meg says. “We have to start small to make it big. We have to get more experience and more notoriety.”
“Some time soon, Meg, you must tell us what it is you’re doing this for,” Flynt says.
“Same thing as any of us, I should think,” Meg replies. “I’m looking for something.”
“What’s that?”
She smiles slightly, then glances around at the rest of us, pausing when she meets my gaze. “The friends I meet along the way, of course.” I laugh at that, while Tyrus and Flynt both eye her uncertainly, and Jonas face-palms.
“Alright, that’s the cue,” he says, grabbing hold of Meg’s arm. “Time to get this goblin goo off us and get some mead. Unlike some of us, we didn’t get Flynt’s magic touch.”
“Don’t make it weird,” I mutter and shake my head, which makes Flynt chuckle. He waves toward the others already going their separate ways, then clasps me on the shoulder and directs me toward where I know the Wide Sky Tavern is.
“How about we go get you a cloak,” he says.
“Can we do it in the morning? I’m exhausted.” Plus, I want to level-up in the privacy of my little rented room.
“Of course,” he replies, though his expression falls slightly. “Have Nyssa give you directions to the Emporium. I’ll make sure we’re ready for you, say around eighth bell?”
“That sounds like a good plan.” We fall into silence again, which is more awkward than it was in the woods. “So. Do you think this will work out?”
“I thought we all worked well together. The goblin fight went down pretty easily, in the great scheme of things, and I was encouraged by the way everyone stayed calm during our little… encounter.”
“You mean, with the thing that doesn’t exist?”
“I’d prefer not to speak of it on those terms. How about, the thing that had no business being where it hasn’t been seen in three hundred years. How’s that?”
“I’ll allow it,” I say, “if only because I’m too cold and tired to argue. I haven’t walked that much in a very long time.”
“Typically ride?”
“Something like that.”
“Horses are, unfortunately, difficult to come by in Qeth.”
“I noticed that there aren’t many of them.”
“I don’t think people have ever seen the need, honestly. The kyttles and direbeasts do well enough as beasts of burden, and they’re native here. They’re more difficult to ride, not that people don’t, it’s just rare. It helps that Qeth is relatively small, too. The journey from here to Ruska is maybe four or five days on foot for most people. Potentially three by cart.”
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His explanation reminds me I need to get a map of Qeth. I checked my own [Map] earlier in the day and found that, like with most RPGs, it was only filled in with places I’ve been. I’m hoping that getting a proper map of the nation and city will help illuminate some of the gaps and make it a little more usable. Maybe Flynt’s Emporium can help me out there as well.
“I just hope I didn’t hold the team back very much,” I murmur.
“You need to have more confidence in your abilities."
“Believe it or not, I’ve gotten that more than a few times in my life.”
“Maybe you should start listening. You may feel lost, Keira, but you’re in a new land with new people learning new things. It’s okay that you’re not perfect right away. And honestly, I think even Meg was a little impressed with you today.”
“I haven’t figured her out yet.”
“I haven’t figured out any of you, yet.”
“You fake it well.”
He smiles slightly at that. “You do too.”
With that, he gestures forward, and I see the familiar, warm, inviting tavern that I expect to be calling home at least for the foreseeable future. The open outdoor seating area is alight with lamps and even, upon inspection, lit-up strings of what actually do look like fairy-lights, which I assume operate magically.
“I’ll leave you here.”
“You’re not going to come in and say hi?”
“Nyssa doesn’t need me to do that,” he says. “And honestly, will probably thank me for not, given the way I must smell.” He gestures toward his goblin-goo covered clothing with a wince. “I’m looking forward to a bath, a hot meal, and an early night. You should do the same.”
“That’s the plan.”
He nods and raises a hand in farewell as he turns away and disappears up a side street. I shudder in the cold and duck inside to be met with a blast of warm air that feels so good I can’t help but stop in my tracks and close my eyes as the chill starts to melt away. Someone clears their throat at me, and I startle to my senses, moving aside to let a pair of humans in.
The tavern is alive tonight, packed to the rafters with a loud roar. I don’t know how weeks work here, but it feels like a Friday night. Everyone has mugs and glasses in front of them, laughing and shouting at one another. A couple in one of the back booths is kissing. Another group in the next booth over has a loud card game going. Nyssa is over at the bar talking with an ageless silver-haired woman who is sipping something from a goblet. I think I recognize her as the other woman from the painting upstairs— and I confirm that as I pass it on my way to my room. I wonder again who she is. I suppose I could easily just go and ask, but the idea of traversing the stairs again makes me irrationally angry.
I stop by my room long enough to collect the towel and washcloth and then beeline for the washroom, happy to find it empty. I bathe, thankful for the magically warmed flowing water— at least, that’s how I assume it happens— and try not to think about the communal nature of the tub. Before I re-dress, I inspect all my clothing for any signs of ick factor, but it all seems relatively clean. Not fresh out of the wash, but it does seem that Flynt’s little cleansing spell goes beyond the superficial surface. Looks like I’ve gotten a temporary reprieve from the cringe-worthy decision: do I turn the underwear inside out to get another day, or go commando? Gross, yes, but you do what you have to do.
Returning to my room I immediately take my boots back off and undress down to my skivvies so I can slide under the sheets, letting my back relax into the mattress for a moment. I can hear the buzz of voices down in the tavern below, but it’s weirdly comforting. I’m about to let myself drift off when I remember I have things to do.
First, I pull out my physical journal and the fountain-styled pen from my bag. In it, I make a quick list of things I need:
* Changes of underwear
* Changes of clothing
* Something to sleep in
* Toothbrush, or something
* Extra socks
* Cloak
* Warmer cloak
* Hairbrush
* Scarf
* More arrows
* Medication???
I don’t have any medication at all. No allergy pills, no anti-depressants, no anxiety meds. I wonder if that’s going to be okay. Am I going to go into withdrawals? The last thing I need is to have a seizure in the middle of a fight because my brain chemistry is all out of whack. But I suppose there’s nothing I can really do about it. I doubt they have pharmacology beyond this moss and that herb. Anyway, if this is just a figment of my imagination, it doesn’t really matter, and if it’s not— well, I guess we’ll see.
Now. This leveling up nonsense.
I go to [Menu] and select [Personal Status].
> [Keira, Hunter Elf: Urban Ranger]
>
> [Level: 2]
>
> [Reputation: Rookie]
>
> [Defense: 13]
>
> [Hit Points: 14 / 14]
>
> [Experience: 335 / 1000]
>
> [Stamina: 100 / 100]
>
> [Essence: 0 / 0]
>
> [Stats]
>
> [Abilities Menu]
>
> [Skills Menu]
Looks like I’ve upgraded from [Stranger] to [Rookie], but I’m not really sure what [Reputation] does for me at this point. Maybe it’ll be more meaningful down the road. My [Hit Points] have increased by about a quarter, which is a nice discovery— though I’d have hoped for more. My [Experience] counter also suggests I’m just into [Level 2] at this stage, which, if I'm counting right, must mean that those [Achievements] came with some heftier XP bonuses than the others. [Stamina] remains the same, however, and I still don’t have any [Essence], which is clearly tied to magical casting given how both Flynt and Jonas talk about it.
My [Stats] are the same as they were walking into all this.
> [Stats]
>
> [Nimble: 5]
>
> [Mind: 3]
>
> [Strength: 3]
>
> [Fitness: 3]
>
> [Sage: 5]
And so are [Abilities], with no obvious sign of new points to assign. I started with five to give out, but I must get more at specific levels. This can’t be all there is, otherwise why would there be more boxes to fill in? Maybe it’s every other level?
> [Abilities]
>
> [Athletics: x]
>
> [Charisma: x]
>
> [Insight: x]
>
> [Lore]
>
> [Mount]
>
> [Perception: x]
>
> [Skullduggery: x]
>
> [Stealth: x]
>
> [Survival: x]
>
> [Weapons: Melee: x]
>
> [Weapons: Ranged: x x]
From there I pull up [Skills], which is where I expect to see some points and I’m not disappointed as a 3 waits for me.
> [Skills: 3 Points Remaining]
>
> [Long Bow: x x]
>
> [Locked Skill]
>
> [Locked Skill]
>
> [Dagger]
>
> [Light Armor: x]
>
> [Locked Skill]
>
> [Ranger]
>
> [Locked Skill]
>
> [Locked Skill]
>
> [Locked Skill]
Three points.
There are still a number of [Locked Skills] on the list, and I’m building theories on what they could be. For instance, I am willing to bet that the [Locked Skills] under [Light Armor] is for something like [Medium Armor]. [Ranger] is my class skill, obviously, so maybe it is the root into more specific things like [Tracking], [Animal Handling], maybe even [Animal Companion]. Weird that it doesn’t tell me though. It’s one thing to lock it out, but to obscure it altogether? That’s annoying.
I don’t have a lot to choose from, so I put one in [Long Bow] and two into [Ranger] thinking maybe that will help with…something.
Returning to [Personal Status], I see that my [Hit Points] have now increased slightly to a solid twenty-one. Roughly twenty-five percent for each point of [Ranger], and almost double what I started with. Again, I’ll take it— but it still feels awfully low.
I try to access the [Squad Status] and get the same message I did before: [No Allies In Range]. Sighing, I lie back and tuck into bed, vaguely thinking that I should probably go eat something. Instead, I fall asleep almost instantly, and dream of a boring day at home, one filled with PowerPoint presentations, Zoom meetings, and emails that spell my name wrong.