The hustle and bustle of people going about their business woke me up. It was so comforting that it took me a moment to realize this wasn’t home. The lack of a mattress did nothing to dissuade me from five more minutes, until my belly growled. At least the soreness had faded, mostly. My feet didn’t even hurt much anymore. Even so, my shoes stayed on - the illusion could last a little longer. There’d be time for that later anyway, and for once the thought rang true as opposed to a thinly veiled repression.
I checked my interface. Mana was at 53, hadn’t done any killing so only physical speed and magical endurance had changed, having gone up to totals of 47 and 57 respectively. My most cumbersome possessions, backpack and mini-forge, remained in the tent.
Laziness was the order of the day and my pace reflected that. Random people, dressed in mixes of old world wear and makeshift leather additions, cheered general greetings while my stroll took me to the smoldering fire. Despite the friendliness, they kept their distance - couldn’t blame ‘em, I smelled. Badly.
Everyone was up already and a short line of lightly grizzled but otherwise cheerful fellow survivors had formed at a basic cooking station – a tree trunk with an equally sized wooden bowl on top and a big ladle sticking out. Barry handed out the slop. My plan to wait in line didn’t survive contact with the good folk here. A bearded chubby dude up front scrunched his nose and shoved a warm bowl into my hands, telling me to go eat.
Can do.
The lukewarm tasteless gruel went down like a two-star meal and I exchanged good mornings with Barry when grabbing seconds. He asked whether thirds would be necessary, and then said he’d join me at the fire in a bit after getting an ‘all good’. Breakfast hadn’t taken long but we ended up as the only two people still seated there regardless. People had run off into three groups of three while discussing their plans, two others settled into guard duty on opposite ends of the camp. So the local population numbered thirteen in total, including me.
How many of us were there even left? Too few.
Our abode featured an open design, likely out of necessity. The fire was in the middle, a row of eight tents took up one side, a barely roofed cooking and workshop area filled the other. The only properly house-like structure with wooden walls and genuine roofing was a storage area. I figured out the purpose by watching people go in empty handed and come out with stuff; mostly primitive spears and tools, some mundane and many magical, adorned by the telltale green tinting and veining. The weapons were actually mixed, only tipped by supernatural material. This place was honestly a bit of a shithole, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. I’d have expected things to be a little… further along.
It didn’t take long before the groups of three departed in different directions while Barry finished his porridge, taking his time. Afterwards, he pulled out his mortar and pestle and this time I caught what he started out with. It was a speck of burger bun, maybe half the size of my pinky. A crystal followed soon after, another fiver.
Some latent trauma or other made me unusually quiet, hard to tell which with my extensive collection - no longer.
“Thanks for the help, and the tent, and the food. Everything really. If you don’t mind me asking, what’s with the mixing? Trying to get up to speed here.” I talked over his ‘no problem man’, wouldn’t feel like a proper conversation otherwise.
He didn’t look up. “This? It’s my craft man, alchemy. Take a plant, grind it up and shove it into this little hole in the middle,” he tilted the bowl, “add crystal, dust it up and cram it ‘til it’s filled. Makes a pill, plant it and wait a while. Get more of the plant. It’s keepin’ us fed, handy stuff. Also why I’m here, gettin’ paid and gets me out of the village.”
“Ah, I thought this was the village-” I couldn’t finish my sentence because of the laughter.
“Good one, nah man, this here’s expedition camp north-east. There’s a few more, but most folk are at the village two days away. Ain’t enough there so we head out here to hunt ‘n’ gather.”
Right, he mentioned that yesterday, my memory was still hazy. “Multiple camps and a village? Plenty of people made it then?” My growing anxiety faded, a bit.
“Not that many. Maybe a hun’erd or two. It’s been rough and no one knows anyone. Ville started out small but people been joinin’ over time, nearby groups comin’ together. Not for a while anymore though. You’re the first fresh face in maybe a week.”
“Well, fuck. Happy to be a surprise, I guess.” Now was the time, felt generous too. “Barry, you smoke?” I grabbed my pack - three left - took one, and then extended an offer to let him help himself.
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Now he looked up, and then reached out. “Shit man, don’t mind if I do. Ya even got an extra left. After I finish up this batch we gotta make more. Ain’t nobody had no smokes left. Got a light?”
More? Oh god, I hadn’t realized.
“Yeah, sure-” I tossed him my lighter. “That might be the first thing I’m looking forward to since the world ended. Fuck yes, just tell me how much crystal you need.” He caught the thrown pack. We both lit up. It was glorious. Maybe... “Coffee a thing anymore?”
He didn’t interrupt his long, satisfied drag. I could sympathize. “Afraid not. Don’t need ya money either.”
Money? I held out my riches. “These the new currency then?” My shiny crystal marble failed to impress. Figured, I was broke.
“Yeppers. Just happened, no decision, no nuthin’. People been real agreeable-like after the strike,” he chuckled, proud of his rhyme. “But that happened on its own.”
“Well damn, then I’m low on funds. Appreciate the charity. Got any recommendations on how to pad my wallet?”
“That’s what’s on ev’ryones mind. Spots here been allocated, gotta wait ya turn. ‘least if you wanna officially be part o’ the camp. Ain’t no real rules though. But tell ya what, I got a little project,” he said, ominously. “And since ya made it out there, I’m thinkin’ ya got some serious firepower, maybe?”
I gave him the side-eye. “Firepower? No guns if that’s what you’re asking. Just this.” I showed him my very sharp magic smart sword.
He examined the blade. “Magical, yeah?”
“Yup.”
“It good at killin’?”
I regaled him with the tale of my battles against armored daggerclaws, only exaggerating slightly. It was a pain in the ass. The redaction unit didn’t like me mentioning my skills. Eventually, I got pissed off and demonstrated. The blade sank up to the hilt into the ground, Barry’s whistle signaled he was suitably impressed. He asked after the bonemetal plates. After my round trip to the tent, he nodded, and then locked eyes with me - a bit too intensely for my liking.
“Got an offer for ya. There’s some demons near here, half-plant, half-rock. I need the material for my craft. They’s got a big boulder in the middle. Need ya to wrabfjhke… ehm, do that.” He pointed at the sword, left in the ground for the wow-factor. “Fuckin’ hate how that spreads. Anyway, it’ll cause the big one to split up into fifteen smaller ones,” Fifteen?! “And I’ll take care o’ those.”
Oh no, fuck that, I’d just made it out. Yet my tongue betrayed me, “Sure. What’s the pay?”
“Depends, you wanna do a one-off and I’ll give ya 20 a kill. Fifteen o’ that’s yours by right, they give 15 for the big guy and one each for the small ones, so thirty for the whole lot. The extra five each is me paddin’ ya wallet.”
Now he turned really serious, leaning in.
“But if you’re interested in a partnership, assumin’ all goes well, then I’ll give ya free room and board at the village, free food, your half of the kills and a small but fair share o’ the profit. Which means ya gotta head out here with me each time it’s my turn though – I’ll get ya a spot.”
One-off, one-off. Screw it, just say never mind. “Sounds great, when do we start?” Why the fuck did I do that?
He went back to grinding. “Sweet, right after I finish this, so a couple more hours. Need to focus now to get it done, ya go and get ready, maybe wash by the shower. It’s this way, ya smell like the cat dragged ya in.” I followed his pointing to an outcropping where a miniature waterfall fed a thin brook. “And the shitters further down, follow the stream and you’ll find the hole.”
“Yeah, thanks, see you in a while then.”
His instructions checked out. The dreaded moment arrived but my feet weren’t even blistered, I’d been afraid of nothing – bloody socks notwithstanding. After my first shower and clothes wash in more than two weeks, I even got the bearded leather capped guard, Bob, to dry my clothes with a magic flame. Apparently pyromania was quite popular, which worked out fine considering how ridiculously useful it was.
Barry’s ‘a few hours’ turned into four. Didn’t feel like drawing and passed the extra time acclimating to my newly earned physicality instead. In part because it was necessary, hadn’t been close to peak condition during my little trek through the wilderness, but mostly because I was dead set on ignoring my ever-increasing anxiety. It lessened some after Barry collected me.
We didn’t really talk much during our one-hour walk towards the craggy area, Barry had some alchemy to finish up, but he’d given me something of a primer on what exactly we’d be tag-teaming - the so called snakedrop-rocks. The long and short of it was to keep moving. Inspired, I practiced some sprints and short stops on the way, somewhat entranced by my new abilities.
And that’s how I found myself here, with killer instincts engaged and a pounding heart while I dashed from one jagged protrusion of cover to another with my companion in tow. My ambush neared the critical moment, punctuated by whispered whining behind me. “Just go kill it already. What the fuck man.”
“Shut up, I’m sneaking up on it.”
“Who gives a shit, I saw you run and the thing is slow. It’s a damn rock.”
“If the first hit is free, why pay for it.”
“’Cuz ya won’t be runnin’ and ya don’t want it to catch ya.” Good point.
“Shit.”
This earthy Errant looked particularly unusual, a bundle of stones held together by far too many thin vines. It stood four to five meters tall and shed chips with every moment. It plodded along on four stony legs and dragged thick, green tentacles behind it. The extremities converged at a round central boulder, akin to obsidian but with emerald marbling. The middle part was my target. There also wasn’t much more to it - just legs, tentacles, and a ‘core’.
I abandoned my misguided sneaking and sprinted towards it with superhuman speed. The name clicked as the huge tentacles rose into the air, towering over it and wavering like submerged seaweed.
Then one slammed down and calm washed over me.