As I neared the outskirts of the town, the melody in the air changed to a more upbeat tavern tune that employed several instruments[1], and a banner popped up in front of me, stating:
“Now entering Safe Zone ‘The Forgotten Village’.”
What a reassuring thought that where everybody woke up was not considered a Safe Zone, though clearly there’d be some kind of system preventing player-killers from going seal clubbing amongst the newly-awoken people such as myself, right? Right??
The village could easily be described in one word: Grey. Though “Forgotten” was quite a stretch, considering how the little streets, alleys, shops, and taverns absolutely thronged with people, many clad in the same shabby clothes as me, well, minus the impressive bird-feathers, cape, and dark scabbard that clapped against my leg with every step.[2] Several people wore actual armour though, but none as impressive in appearance as Kerebor’s. There were also quite a few who were dressed in what could best be described as ‘town clothes’, which served no functional purpose that I could tell, but just kind of flashed their wealth and questionable taste of colour-coordination. The worst example of this was a rainbow-coloured velvet dress which was overlong and trailed its skirt along the dirty cobbles.
Granted, some of the people I saw might also have been these ‘Husks’ that Kerebor had told me about. The word sounded less like an official designation and more like a slur, due to its quite obvious implications. Perhaps these ‘Husks’ were simply the true denizens of this strange realm and we were the strangers invading their territory.
A few steps down the main street I spotted an alchemy shop nestled halfway into an alleyway between two taller buildings, hiding in the shadows as if the sun’s light could somehow damage its dark, worm-eaten façade. I’d already considered learning alchemy after glancing over some of its capabilities in the crafting window. Plus, the added bonus of being able to make my own healing potions made it too tempting to pass up on. Particularly because of how terrifying Kerebor had made near-death experiences sound.
The door was as worm-eaten as the rest of the shop’s front, and I had to use both arms to pull the cursed thing open. It was fairly evident that the proprietor didn’t consider maintenance that important. The place did have a certain appeal though, at least if you fancied mossed-over walls, insects, visible decay, and fungus sprouting up through cracks between the floorboards.
“Nice place you have here,” I said sarcastically to the man mixing flasks behind the shop counter. He looked up at me with his one good eye, but didn’t respond. The hair on his head was wispy, like the kind of hair you’d expect to find on a corpse long-dead. His other eye was barely open, as that side of his face was frozen in a horrifying grimace caused by some chemical burn, which had also seared away part of the hair on his scalp.
When he still remained silent, I said, “I’m looking to learn alchemy.”
At this he gave me a yellow-green toothy smile, and in a raspy voice said, “I will teach you what I know, if you help a friend of mine find something that was stolen from him.”
A task… well that was fast. I honestly hadn’t expected to be sent off on an errand so soon. But I guessed I had to complete it before I could unlock the alchemy skill tree. I wondered if it would involve a ‘Stage’ like what Kerebor had described.
“Where do I find this friend of yours?”
“Father Adam lives by himself in the Old Church to the north, outside of town.”
“Very well.”
“When you have found what Father Adam seeks, I will teach you what I know.”
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“Before I leave, do you know where I can buy some better armour?”
“When you have found what Father Adam seeks, I will teach you what I know,” the Alchemist repeated.
“Are you okay?”
“When you have found what Father Adam seeks, I will teach you what I know,” the Alchemist repeated for the third time, like a badly-scratched CD refusing to play past the intro riff.
I gave up on trying to elicit a different response from him and simply left the shop. I emerged from the shadow-covered alley and followed the sound of loud voices in the distance. It sounded like several different people were trying to compete for the attention of a great, thrumming crowd. I couldn’t actually tell what was being shouted, but the inflection in their voices made it sound like they might be vendors or something of the sort.
As I walked along the dirty cobble road, I noticed quite a few people huddled away by themselves in alleys and the doorway-steps of houses. Some were mumbling to themselves, while others were rocking back-and-forth, or visibly shaking. A few just stared blankly into walls or at the passers-by, as though not fully comprehending what they were seeing.
Is this what happens when you lose all your memories? I wondered.
Forgetting everything about your past likely had a severe impact on your personality. To me, it seemed a fate worse than death. A shiver ran down my spine as I imagined myself in their place, completely alone, with no memories, and an unfamiliar world around me. I tried my best to shake the thought from my mind, but I knew that this was a sight I wouldn’t easily forget. The nickname for these people made sense to me now.
‘Forsaken’: Abandoned by this world and the real one. I realised it could also be interpreted as them having abandoned their own memories, but that implied a choice, and I didn’t believe any of us had that in this place.
When the road split into two, I went left, as the other path led to the rolling hills outside of town. Following another stretch of road and another left turn I suddenly emerged into an extremely-busy marketplace with shouting vendors, running bands of children, and players clambering to get to the wares. This was no doubt the source of all the shouting I’d heard. I decided to just have a look at what was on sale and did my best to squeeze past the hungry mobs by every stall. I caught a few glimpses of battered-and-used armour and weapons, though a lot of it seemed very expensive, despite its obvious lack of quality and maintenance.
After a few minutes, I started to notice that I was attracting quite a lot of attention, with the crowds slowly converging on me.
Suddenly, one guy yelled, “Look! It’s Raven-Black!” Several others echoed his excitement, and then it was like the floodgates had sprung wide and a true stampede of excitement thundered towards me. I was slowly pushed back up against the brick wall of a local tannery by the mob that’d formed around me.
What the fuck is going on??
I tried my best smile and waved back awkwardly, but they quickly started pushing closer and closer, forcing me to back away before I was trampled or torn limp-from-limp between the many hands grasping for me. Then someone grabbed my cloak, and, for a moment, as the dark cape was pulled over my head, I legitimately feared for my life. I wailed my arms around, trying to create some distance between me and the mob.
“Get your fucking hands off of me!” I yelled furiously.
For good measure, and also to release his grip on my cloak, I torpedoed my foot into his nuts, making him produce a sound not too unlike a squeaky toy caught by a playful dog.[3] I managed to disengage myself from the crowd shortly after and sprinted across the cobblestones as fast as my feet would carry me. At first, a few of the more excited people chased after me, but after a few minutes of dodging in-and-out of narrow alleyways, my legs never once halting, I soon lost sight of them. Moments later, I heard someone in the distance yell, “Did you see where she went?”
When I eventually found a completely secluded alleyway, twenty-odd minutes later, I stopped running and caught my breath. I couldn’t hear anyone shouting for me anymore, so I assumed I was safe. It was clear that whatever Past Me had done had earned me quite some renown, or notoriety perhaps, so I decided to avoid busy areas for a while, since I didn’t feel like being steamrolled by crazed fans[4].
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[1] Such as a Hurdy Gurdy, a Fiddle, Flutes, Drums, Tambourines, and several other ones I could not distinguish in the cacophony.
[2] With how vigorously it was hammering into my leg, I was sure my hip would carry a bruise in the shape of that damned thing before the day was done.
[3] I’d wanted to draw my sword as well, but found myself entirely unable to release my blade from its scabbard, perhaps due to the Safe Zone we were in.
[4] Granted, I had no way of knowing if they were actually fans of the Past Me, or if I just owed a lot of people money…