The stench of steel and Spirit suffocates me. There is no where to run nor hide in this damp cave. A faint scent of iron is added to the mix. The wound on my head is worse than I thought. I’m losing focus.
An older gentleman’s shout echoes as he staves off a giant creature in front of me. I hear the girl next to me slide her feet as she hops to take up a defensive position behind me. Surely we underestimated the situation by quite a bit.
What am I even doing here anyways? I guess this is the adventure I’ve been seeking.
I smell an oddly nostalgic aroma.
“Soup?” I think to myself. Root vegetable soup to be exact.
I’m starting to hallucinate. God I wish I was hallucinating.
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The scent of wood smoke and baking bread hangs heavy in the air. A familiar comfort that does little to soothe the restlessness churning within me. Sunlight streams through the small, dusty window of my cottage, illuminating motes of dust dancing around me.
My name is Meer and I, a woman of an admittedly quiet disposition and a heart brimming with unspoken desires, find myself trapped in a life that feels increasingly like a cage. My husband, a man whose presence is as comforting as a cold hearth, remains stubbornly unmoved by my pleas to see the world beyond the familiar rolling hills surrounding our village.
My days are filled with a repetitive cycle of chores. Tending the small herb garden that fuels my fledgling witchery, brewing simple remedies for the villagers, and enduring the quiet, unspoken tension that suffocates my marriage. The villagers, my female friends amongst them, offer little solace. Their lives are as predictable as the sunrise, their dreams as contained as our little village’s boundaries. Yet, a seed of rebellion has begun to sprout in my heart, nurtured by the adventurous spirit that stubbornly refuses to be extinguished.
This seed was watered further only a few days ago. A stranger, his eyes twinkling with untold adventures, arrived in the village, his clothes dusted with the grime of countless journeys. He spoke of shimmering waterfalls cascading into hidden valleys, of forests teeming with creatures both wondrous and terrifying, and of a world stretching far beyond the horizon. Truth or lies; I couldn’t tell, but it is a world I desperately yearn to explore. His tales ignited a fire in my soul, a fire that surely burns brighter than the hearth that warms my small cottage.
Tonight, the weight of my confinement presses down with unusual heaviness. Tomorrow, I must attend to a matter of vital importance, a ritual that binds me to this village, to this life. But in the shadows of this ritual, a different path seems to beckon. A path leading towards a destiny far beyond the confines of my everyday existence. The stranger’s words echo in my ears, a siren’s song calling me towards an unknown future. I know, deep down, that soon I will have to make a choice. A choice that could lead me to adventure, or keep me tethered to a life I no longer desire.
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The cave walls seem to close in on me. Or is simply it an illusion caused by the swaying of my staff? The tip of which is illuminated by a simple Light spell. I need to steady and focus myself.
I plant my feet on the gravel and look past the light, to the abomination we currently face. It’s an amalgam of flesh and grime. An outer layer of dirt and slime obscuring it’s identity. My vision sharpens. The four branches I see poking out of it’s shoulder coalesce into one.
I remember what it is I’ve been looking out for. An opening between the man’s dodging and parrying. The crushing walls of the cave forbid me from shooting spells out willy-nilly.
With a quick parry, he makes an opportunity for me. I realize that I’ve been chanting this whole time under whispering breath. I inhale a puff of air and clench.
“Fireball!” I shout as the my Spirit sparks into a furious ember that shoots out at the creature. Contact is made in an instant as it reels from the impact. The guttural scream that echoes through the cave confirms the damage but still it stands strong.
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The moon hangs heavy in the inky sky, casting long shadows that dance across my cottage floor. The gentle hum of my husband’s breathing from the next room offers little comfort. Tonight, the weight of my secret feels heavier than usual.
I carefully retrieve a small, worn leather pouch hidden beneath my mattress. The fruits of months of incessant saving. Inside, a small stack of coins and several days worth of dried rations lie nestled together, I've been secretly saving to commence my journey.
As I slip out of the cottage, the night air feels surprisingly crisp against my skin. The stranger, I remember, was staying at the village inn. A ramshackle building at the edge of the village. I find him sitting alone on a bench outside; a half-empty flagon beside him. His eyes, when they meet mine, sparkle with a knowing amusement. He doesn't seem surprised to see me under the cloak of night.
He gestures to the empty space across him. "A clandestine meeting." he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I sensed your restlessness. In our previous meetings." His voice is low, husky, carrying the weight of countless narrations. The smell of woodsmoke and something else, something wild and untamed, clings to him.
This man, this mysterious traveller, seems to understand the silent yearning that consumes me. I inquire about the path to the nearest village, hoping for a starting point towards a life less ordinary. He gives me a detailed description of the road, pointing out the window, towards the distant silhouette of the hills mentioning the particular landmarks and difficulties that might await me.
More than a simple description of the way, it is an invitation to embark on my journey. His eyes hold a certain depth of understanding that sends a shiver down my spine. A mixture of excitement and apprehension. His encouragement feeds my ego.
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I hear chattering from the shadows behind. The curves of the cave walls seem to funnel the sound to my ears. My urge to look behind is alleviated by the knowledge that the girl behind me is steadfast, ready to strike.
My Fireball didn’t do as much as I hoped it would. The grime that coats the monster seems to have diminished it’s effectiveness. I only have one spell left in me so I need to make it count.
The old man still trading slashes, manages to hit the monster a number of times. Yet between dodging and aiming between it’s relentless attacks and patches of thick hide, the killing blow seems still far away.
I feel it. I only have enough Spirit for about two more major spells. I ponder if a Lightning Bolt would penetrate the slime, and grime but if that fails, I would be out of significant offensive spells.
The threat of an ambush, the echoing roar of the creature, and the soft shivering of a girl whose back rests softly on mine. I’ve got to do something. My hand shakes with uncertainty but I feel a warmth radiate from my satchel, a dim light escaping from the small wear and tears that litter the side of it.
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I have a faint sense of what it is. I pray a silent prayer focusing on the Feather that I’ve tucked away into a chamber of the satchel, a fragile thread of Spirit connecting me to it. The wind whispers in my ear, urging me to lift my staff.
“Radiance.” I blurt out. My lips half move on their own.
The Light on my staff flickers rapidly before bursting out into a beacon of light in all directions. The creatures eyeing my party scream in terror as their eyes are bombarded by a flash of light.
The old man is too skilled to miss this unprecedented opportunity. He lunges at the behemoth, slicing; what I assume to be it’s jugulars, in a swift and heavy attack. It lets out a monstrous roar that slides into a gargle as blood erupts from it’s mouth. It falls onto it’s knees and then face flat on to the ground. Dead.
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About 5 months have passed since I’d begun my adventure. The moist dirt on the hem of my trousers stand out, glistening on top of the dried patches that validate the fatigue I feel. Up ahead in the near distance stands a large village.
Stren, an up and coming town that had; up until recently, been considered one of the largest village in the Mural mountain range. The few hours of journey remaining gives me a small view of the situation there. A handful of desecrated carriages by the way side of the road. Some decrepit, some fresh. The fenced fields by the roadside seem to be half abandoned. Scraps of metal dumped by a wooden wall that surrounded the visible outline of the town. It probably provides the bare minimum sense of security needed to not abandon the town as a whole.
Entering the town, I am greeted by a weary guard. Clearly tired, and with bags under his eyes. He scans my possessions from a distance. I don’t sense any animosity. He signals at me to enter.
I walk, hesitating to stop and ask the many questions that plague my mind. Our eyes meet as I pass him but I quickly turn away as I don’t have the courage to disturb him, least he shoo me away in frustration.
Clouds of dust linger in the air as children kick and follow a woven ball across the street. The small Town Square bustles with a tense but active energy. The locals look at me with a certain understanding that I am new in town. Yet none seem wary of me, but neither do they approach.
There is some commotion by the centre well. A group of people have huddled around around a seating area. The group isn’t big enough to stand out from any other around the square but the tension is palpable. The rest of the villagers peer towards them every few seconds in curiosity, or maybe in annoyance.
The atmosphere is heavy but this looks to be the most likely place for the answers I seek. I walk up to a man on the outer fringe of the meetup.
“Is something going on here?” I ask. He turns to answer but is slightly startled but the presence of a stranger, “Oh... uhm... We’re trying to settle a local issue.” he replies.
I press, “Is it the goblin attacks?” His eyes widen as he replies, “Yes it is actually. We’ve hit a dead end. The guards are unsure if we can solve the issue.”
“What about the adventurers? Aren’t they supposed to be setting up a raid to solve it?” I probe further.
“Well that’s what would usually happen. But our town is new so the Adventure’s Guild had barely been set up when it started. Alas, the handful of adventurers that gathered have left deeming it to be a hopeless cause.”
So the rumours were true. I assume that it wouldn’t hurt to take a gander around.
“I am a travelling adventurer. Who could I speak to if I were interested in helping?” I had barely finished the sentence before an old man deeper in the crowd exclaims.
“An adventurer?” the crowd gives way, allowing an old man to walk through. He continues, “Hello there miss. My name is Briar, the Elder of this village. I couldn’t help but overhear that you are interested in aiding us.”
I give a hesitant nod. He continues, “What an opportune timing. The guards at the Guardhouse are meeting to come up with a plan. I will have someone here guide you there.” Waving to an aide to show me the way. He adds as I depart, “But don’t be too disheartened by what you might find there. I’m sure the people you meet are quite reliable.” I give my thanks and follow the aide.
A large two-storied building stand in a clearing on the far eastern side of the town. Half timber, half cobble stone, the structure seems sturdy even if quite unkempt. The aide says, “You can enter the building from the far left side. That should lead you straight to the meeting room.” He points towards a side entrance that gives access to an outhouse by the back of the building.
“Thank you. Also who should I ask fo-” My question is cut short as I turn to see him already walking off a few buildings away. I feel the tears well up as I clutch my staff. Tip-toeing to the side of the door, I steady my breath in anticipation. My ears hear words being spoken inside, but my scrambled brain refuses to make sense of it, no matter how hard I try. I close my eyes and turn to enter.
“Hello everyone. I am an adventurer and have been hired- I mean asked to help. I haven’t been hired yet but I am willing to be hired. If you or they are looking to hire and also pay.”
I blurt out; standing motionless by the entrance, my eyes shut tight. I have not mastered the use of my tongue. I slowly open my eyes to see large yet a sparsely furnished room. A large centre round table surrounded by a handful of wooden chairs, only two of which are occupied. It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust but I start to make out the patrons that I have disturbed. An older man and a girl about my age, both staring at me.
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The monster is dead yet the danger is all but over. My vision, still faint from the flash of my spell, fails to focus on the path ahead. Surely the greater Spirit had taught me something useful, but I would’ve been glad if it told me to shut my eyes a well. I flutter my eyes hoping to fill in the outlines I can make out with finer details.
The old man has crouched down examining the creature he had just slain. He mutters something but I cannot quite make out what is. My brain is struggling to keep up. the rush of adrenaline has subsided, leaving me fairly woozy. The thick liquid slowly inching down my back makes me aware as to why.
The girl behind me shouts out. My ears failing to make sense of it, but the vibrations I feel from our backs touching each other alerts me to it’s urgency. The man stands up and starts running, so I start as well. The pressure on my back is now shaped like the palm of a small hand that pushes and guides me through the barely lit cavern.
The light on the tip of my staff falls dimmer. I need to focus more Spirit into it.
We stop, with the three of us huddled around the light. They look at me expectantly but the light source refuses to expand. I try for a few seconds. The ball of light pulses sporadically, threatening to extinguish if I falter at the slightest.
Suddenly, I feel my body float up, my staff dangling at my fingertips as I am lifted and cradled by the man. The last I remember, is us approaching a small opening behind a rising stalagmite before the cavern fades to pitch black darkness. Did I fall unconscious or was it my spell being snuffed out? I’m not sure.
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