While climbing down the thick jungle-gym-like rope ladder between tiers towards the Craftship, we saw beneath us the broad wooden planks of the once-bustling tier in the same disarray as those above. There were spots which stood out as the aftermath of intense fighting, with at least a dozen of the humanoid, bat-like Voracious Chiroptera fiends lying dead. Surrounding them, though, were many other bodies, covered in awful life-stealing wounds.
As we walked solemnly through the awful scene, members of the Wardship, all battered and bruised, their thin grey-green armour torn to shreds, were beginning to cordon off areas.
“Niraki, at least you three made it out!” one of them shouted at us. “Can you walk? Please, through to da main Craftship, we are co-ordinating an assembly.”
Halfway through the tier, meaning to head to the lowest and see if we could be of any help, we came across Wardship Captain Paresh, organising people into groups, and using his aged, but still grand, physicality to assist in the recovery efforts.
He hailed us over as we passed, “Talbot, Alator, Lenya . . . it is a very dark time that you chose to come to Ith-Korr. The Wardship is . . . making safe these streets.”
His lush green fur was spotted with blood, and a large gash through the chest of his leather made him wince with every movement, but even as he spoke, he was moving the heavy, shattered remains of a merchant’s stall out of the middle of the street.
I helped him with the weight.
“Thank you,” he said, and wiped thick sweat from his forehead. His black eyes, with their points of amber within them, eyed us all up separately, making note of our own wounds and exhaustion. “How are the tiers above? I sent three good men up to the Dwellship, but they have not yet returned to report.”
I shared a glance with my companions, remembering the dead lay strewn about the courtyard at the vampyri’s feet, and just shook my head.
His shoulders dropped just as his heart fell, but his eyes remained steeled.
“And the fiends responsible?”
“Dispatched,” Alator spoke up in a low growl.
The Wardship Captain gritted his teeth.
“It has been a long time since our city has experienced such terror . . . BUT,” he barked, “Such is the duty of the Wardship.”
Alator grasped his shoulder.
“You do your people proud, little one.”
Despite the probably over-the-line moniker, Paresh met his eyes and nodded sharply, his green fur moving about.
“There is much to do in the aftermath. Our first priority is this main tier, but if you are willing to help further, head downwards, some might have taken to the jungle — if so, they are likely waiting for an opportunity to attack again.”
“None will have scattered,” Alator remarked.
Paresh’s eyes clouded for a moment, then he shuddered away his quizzical look and said:
“Otherwise, you can assist in . . . making safe the dead.”
I smiled grim reassurance, and we set off towards the next tier. A few moments passed, then he called back to us, “Times like these, natai . . . there’ll be lots of bounties in the coming days. Skelth, that monster who leads the Shadow Prowlers, is going to jump at every chance he gets. There’ll of course be many others as well, as opportunists make their mark.”
Nodding, I grimaced at the realisation that these opportunists would most likely just be desperate souls taking desperate measures.
I’ll have to be very careful about the bounties I take.
Then I shook my head and at once felt overwhelmed with unease. I’d killed two men. The orchard-folk in Akhur’shet and the jungle-folk man on the trade road. The unease wasn’t revolved around the fact of their death, or of my actions, but how little it bothered me. I sent out a mental probe.
SYS, something has been bothering me for a while. I feel like Barbican is changing me.
// SYS : Barbican is changing you. It changes all. Even men like Alator. //
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Yes, I know, of course, but I mean like, more than that. I feel like becoming a Warrior has made me more brash, impatient . . . savage.
The little bronze sphere moved from side to side.
// SYS : No. We do not have the power to change your personality. Put this down to a natural progression of your character. //
Another one of your meta terms to make things easier for Earthlings? . . . But what about the Mind Stat? You said it literally makes people more intelligent.
// SYS : While that would change a person somewhat, it is not that straightforward. We just improve the brain’s capability. Think of it like upgrading the RAM on your PC — it won’t affect your hard drive. To illustrate this, Alator’s Mind is more than six times yours, but does he strike you as a genius? //
I suppose not. . . . He certainly never learnt how to play well with others.
// SYS : His experience and wisdom have for his whole life been directed towards a very specific set of — //
Skills.
// — foci. //
Well, assuming what you say is true, the Warrior class isn’t turning me into an abrupt, violent weirdo. . . . Guess Barbican is just bringing it out of me, after all, I thought, turning my attention away from the orb.
Presently, Zhokko, the talent picker from the Arena approached us, brown and white fluff poking from his shoe string tied waistcoat. There was not a mark on him — not a hair out of place or even a speck of dust.
“You seem to have fared all right,” I spat.
“Why de ire, Mista? Ol’ Zhokko is no fighter; we found a safe place ta hunker down and keep out of de way of dose who should be fighting. . . . Would you rather da citizenry die in place of de wardens? Anyway, have ya considered Zhokko’s offer?”
I blinked at him as my temperature rose. The bloody gall! I took a heavy step towards him, at my full height my neck was bent to my chest looking down at him. He didn’t squirm; showed no sign of discomfort at all, just kept up with that massive grin on his night-monkey face, and whispered honey:
“It’s been said — yah’ve got some serious fire, Talbot. Better ta put it ta good use making some good copper rather dan slapping around ol’ Zhokko, ya?”
“Currently in two minds,” I grunted through gritted teeth. “My mind’s not made up, but it would be a cold day in hell I throw in with you, Zhokko. People are dead, where’s your respect?”
He looked up at me with a wry smile, unerring confidence, taking the implied insult with grace and a wave of the hand.
“And if great and powerful Hrunja had fell off dat Arena stage, caught herself in a bad way, perhaps her neck broken and splayed out, dead wi’ no glory — ya had no problem with that, did ya, eh? Look, all Zhokko needs you ta hear is this: tragedy comes and goes, and now more dan ever, Talbot, de crowds need someone ta root for.
“War-hero of da Dwellship, I heard! Ya’re going to be well storied, ya know? Many saw yah valiant actions to make safe de poor, wretched misers in the ramshackle courtyard. Even dough t’ree brave men of da Wardship had fallen, ya leapt inta action and slew da beast! Many more dan dat will hear of it in de coming days — thanks in no small part to Zhokko.” He placed a long-fingered hand on his chest, and added, “Yah coming to the dusk bouts will be legendary, naka.”
I turned and marched away from him. War-hero of the Dwellship bounced around in my mind and, to my shame, left a thin smile.
Off the main tier of the city, I remembered the way to the Wardship, where the warden barracks and training grounds were. On the way, we passed through the Guestship and I saw the enormous thinly-cast bronze horn over the Woven Vine tavern — instantly diverted. The place had fared particularly badly; the small windows had been smashed to pieces and the hinged swinging doors were torn off the hinges and crumpled.
Alator clicked his teeth. I followed his gaze and saw movement inside the inn. Without a word, we set off at a sprint towards it. We burst into the room. Fearing the worst, I found what was left in my reserves and pulsed on [Battle Tactics].
One of the Voracious Chiropteras was hunched in the corner of the room, between two stalls, with its back to us. Swiftly and silently, I stepped over the sticky wooden planks and drove my spear through its back, between the shoulder blades. It died quietly, choking on hissing breath and cold blood.
// SYS : You gained 11 XP for defeating the Voracious Chiroptera. You now have 30 and need 130 total for the next Level. //
Half XP, making this an assist. With apprehension and dread, I threw its body aside and looked into the darkness behind the dead creature. . . . There was nothing but a pile of gnawed-at food. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then a creak as a door was slowly pushed open to the right of me. I span on my heel and readied my spear, bronze point gleaming, to see Brekis emerge with Keza behind him.
As soon as they saw us, I saw their held breath relax and their faces settled high relief, then into exhaustion.
“Alator, Talbot, Lenya — good to see you’re safe! What in Barbican has happened?” Brekis marched over to us and gave us each a heavy shake. There were scratches all over his arms and one of his eyes was swollen almost shut.
“Incursion,” I said. “Fiends not of this World.”
Brekis hesitated a moment, slow understanding settling on his mind.
“Niraki. . . . D-did you bring them with you?”
“No,” I said with some confidence. He suspects we are also from another World, or maybe he overheard us. Honestly, I understood the thought; that would likely cross the minds of many others in the coming days. “But it is our responsibility to stop them.”
“We only had one in here,” the inn-keeper continued, kicking the beastly corpse. “Couldn’t do anything to it without weapons, managed to lock ourselves away in the pantry.”
“Not before giving it a good few whacks, Mista!” Keza piped up, brandishing a frying pan with multiple dents in it.
“Good work, made for an easy kill,” I mumbled, forcing a smile. “The whole of Ith-Korr is like this — some fared worse, some better — the wardens are holding assembly in the Craftship, you should head over.”
They both nodded and skittered away. As Keza passed, she glanced up at me with her big spider monkey blue-white eyes, then jumped up spritely and pecked my cheek with her dark lips.
Still no time to loot, I thought. So, blushing lightly and very much enjoying the regular spate of thanks, we moved on and continued to clean up the tier.