Tarn watched the thoughts run across Narsol’s emerald face. He was making the same calculations Tarn had. Narsol needed to get back to Ak-Thanon if he were going to help his people, and he couldn’t even access the Sword Dungeon without Tarn’s help, let alone survive the journey.
Yet Narsol held the secrets of the Axe Dungeon in his mind, something Tarn needed even more dearly now that Yarex was following close behind.
“We need each other,” Tarn said. The cold was making his teeth want to chatter, but he held himself firm. “But I don’t need you so bad that I’ll lose my team over you. Understand?”
There was a pause. In that moment Tarn could only the hear the sound of Lash picking through the wolf corpse remains, apparently bored with the argument already. Other than shivering, he and Bog stood stone silent, waiting for Narsol’s response.
“I hear you,” he said finally. “And I am a soldier. So long as you and I chase the same goal, I will … follow your lead, as you say.”
There was a bitter tinge to his voice, one that gave Tarn pause. There was more going on behind Narsol’s eyes than he had spoke of, Tarn was sure it. He saw something he recognized there, the anger that comes with guilt.
He resolved he’d need to keep an even closer eye on the Orc, but in this moment this was all they could do.
“Boss!” Lash broke Tarn from his thoughts as the gremlin jumped excitedly up and down. “Wolves leave big flat fur behind. Coats maybe?”
Bones aching from the cold, Tarn hobbled over to find Lash almost buried in a beautiful wolf pelt, with a second one laying on the ground beside him. Even from this distance, Tarn could see evidence of tailoring as impossible as that seemed. The pair of dire timbers had indeed been cut and sewn into coats. Near the collar of the one Lash held was a small pin in the shape of a sword.
The dungeon helping again?
Tarn reached down, grasping the soft but heavy fur of the first coat and his interface sprang to life.
ITEM BOUND: Tarn Arisfal
DIRE TIMBER COAT
Size: M
Warm fur - Temperature +5 / Resistance + 2
Thick hide - Reduces first melee attack damage by 5 AP.
In valleys pleasant and inlets bleak, a good, warm coat is what you seek.
“Lash did you get anything on your interface?” Tarn looked down, seeing only a moving lump underneath the second coat.
“Yeah Boss.” His voice was comically muffled. “Wolf coat. Warm and helping. Lash can’t use though.”
Lash can’t … oh the size!
Tarn wasn’t sure what ‘M’ stood for. Man, perhaps. He supposed then that Bog might not be able to use the coat either, which was a shame.
There was a familiar buzzing sound that began to fill the air as Isca came flying towards them. In truth, she was hovering only a few feet off the ground, but it was still enough to allow her faster progress than the others had moved on the ice-covered rocks.
Her arms willed with what looked like fist-sized dark rocks. She came to a landing next to him, dropping her load onto the ground with a thud.
“We heard combat,” she said, her face flush with exertion and cold. “Aryo and Jental are close behind me. When we heard howls like wolves I flew forward and – oh, you are all extremely injured!”
“Well, maybe a bit!” Tarn laughed, his teeth chattering. “We did fight a pack of wolves, but our AP should be fine now and-“
Pulling up his interface, Tarn was shocked with what he saw.
TEAM STATUS
Tarn Arisfal: AP 40/110
Bog: AP 20/130
Lash AP 20/80
Narsol AP 10/60
We didn’t take this much damage! Once Tarn moved his interface focus to the environmental screen, the reason became clear.
Temperature: -10
Modifiers: Wolf Coat +5
Currently body temperature: 0%
The damn cold!
As he had suspected, once one of the environmental statistics reached zero, their AP total began to drop as the gem fought a losing war against the gray. The dire timbers had chilled the air around them sufficiently to make the air colder than even the torch modifier could compensate for.
Senses dulled and their minds distracted, they had been slowly freezing to death without even knowing it.
“Tarn, we have to get you all warmed up, quickly!”
Isca grabbed the torch from Tarn’s surprised hand, holding it down to the darkened stones below her. Pulling her goggles back down, she adjusted the lenses as she studied the rocks. The fire licked around their surface, but no new flame sprung forth.
“These rocks are flammable,” she said. “But their ignition point is too high for the torch. If we can get a fire going with smaller materials, we could then add this … darkstone?”
“As-as good a name as any,” Tarn said. He tried to smile, but the trembling of his jaw left it more of a grimace. “Maybe – maybe this will h-help.”
Reaching down, he pulled the wolf coat up and began to put it on. He felt Isca’s hands helping to secure the coat, helping it over his shuddering arms. Immediately he could sense the soft warmth its interior provided, as if he were slipping into a soft, thick mattress and sliding underneath a series of blankets.
Temperature status change.
Currently modified: +1 (dire timber coat, torch)
Temperature: 1% (rising)
Better. At least the coat would stop the AP bleeding.
“Narsol!” He shouted. “Come put this other coat on. You need it to warm up, check your interface. We’re losing AP to the cold!”
At that moment, Aryo came streaking in, trailing the electrical discharge of his Zephyr abilities. He had a heavy pack strapped to his back, and Jental lying leisurely in his arms.
“What happened?” He came to stop next to Isca, kicking up snow at his sudden arrival. “Was there a fight?”
“They’re obviously freezing, Junior!” Jental chided, hopping down from Aryo’s arms. “Thanks for the ride, by the way.”
Tarn watched the exchange between the two while hunched over, stamping his feet against the cold. His sluggish mind tried to work out why Jental needed to be carried, then decided he needed to move on to larger concerns.
Namely Bog, Lash, and Narsol.
Narsol had his back flat against the canyon wall, and was trembling so visibly Tarn could hear his teeth rattling. Bog feebly tried to push Isca away as the Kithikin attempted to cover her shoulders with Isca’s removed cloak, before finally relenting.
Lash seemed the least affected, but his ears had curled up close to his head, and he now leaned into a surprised Jental.
“You, get more torches lit,” Isca barked, taking the gremlin away from Jental. “Aryo, lead the others against the far canyon wall! There should be a wind break there!”
Tarn couldn’t help but smile as Aryo threw his arm over his shoulder and began to ease him forward. Isca had stepped into the leadership role with ease, and it built a warm feeling inside him despite the cold.
He felt the smooth stone against his back as they reached the wall. He slowly slid into a seated position, and could feel a lessening of the wind, just as Isca had said. Jental came by, and a fresh warm torch was pushed into his hands.
Fingers still shaking, Tarn held on to it tightly and let its warmth seep into him. To one side of him, Narsol was brought into a seated position, with Bog and Lash soon taking the other. For minutes that felt like hours, Tarn simply sat there with his eyes shut and allowed the fire time to do its work.
As his senses began to return, he could feel the blood moving through his body once again. The effects of the dire wolves cold fell from him in slow waves, as the torch’s flame worked against the diminished wind. His strength returning, Tarn checked his interface once again.
AP: 20/110
Temperature: 50
Modifiers: Air temperature -10
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Wolf Coat: +5
Torch: +5
He was at a standstill, no longer getting colder but unable to get warmer under the weak benefit of the torch. Narsol and Bog were in similar states. Only Lash seemed somewhat recovered, already slowly scampering around the canyon, looking under rocks and poking into the other’s packs
Isca came over, kneeling down with concern written clear across her face.
“You could have died, you know Tarn? What happened? Not with the fight, I mean. But the temperature was eating your AP, and you didn’t seem to know. You’re usually on top of these things.”
“The cold,” Tarn said, shaking his head in frustration. “The wolves enhanced it… made it somehow even colder. It got into my thoughts, it was like trying to wade against the current. It’s ... clearing now.”
“Yes!” Bog pounded one huge fist into the snow, sending ice crystals flying. “We cannot stay here, sitting on our asses in the snow! I am warmer now, I am ready. We need to take our pain to-“
“Absolutely not,” Isca said, folding her arms and glowering at them. “Are you insane? The four of you almost died – would have if we hadn’t come along, and yet I find the two of you arguing like children?”
“Is she talking to me?” Narsol looked taken aback at this statement. He turned to Tarn in mock-confusion. “Is she talking about us?”
“I think so,” Tarn chuckled. “And she’s right. As bad as things are, we’re not going to handle another run in with those wolves if we don’t recover our health along with our warmth.”
“You mentioned ‘camping’ in your stories about your Sword dungeon.” Narsol turned and looked toward the now-distant entrance to the Sword. “My gem granted me no such abilities. But perhaps that would be helpful here?”
Camping! Tarn felt as if he could smack himself. Damn this cold. The thoughts still came slowly to him, and he hadn’t used the ability in months. There had been no need for it outside of the Sword, but he still should have remembered about camping.
“That reminds me,” Jental said, leaning against the canyon wall and leering down at the seated Narsol. “How did you get that gem, handsome? They got still-bombs over there in Orc-land too?”
Narsol simply stared at Jental silently.
Tarn attempted to access his camp controls. The error message flashing across his mind did not surprise him, though he wished it could come without the standard accompanying headache.
WARNING: GEM RESOURCES LOW. CAMP REQUIRES ADDITIONAL SHELTER.
“Camps are not an option on the Bridge it looks like. I guess he will have to rough it.”
His first night after running away from the Orphanage Tarn had done just that. Stolen a tent from some travelers, he had made a tiny fire and even downed a squirrel for dinner. It had been a small step, but the first on a road that led him to this moment.
But it looked like they were fresh out of tents to steal, or wounded squirrels to skin. They’d have to make do.
“Isca, see if you can get a campfire started. Use the torch to light it if you can. Always try to save the firestarters. Lash and Aryo, see if you can reclaim a little wood from those shattered crates over there. ”
The Kithikin nodded, pulling down her goggles and study the right side of the canyon wall. In moments she found a small niche in the canyon wall that appeared protected from the wind, and began arranging small stones in a circle.
Lash and Aryo hurried back and forth, gathering up small pieces of wood from the many shattered crates that had fallen off the engine as it passed. To his surprise, Tarn saw Narsol wordlessly rise and began to assist them in the search.
Jental simply leaned against the left side of the canyon, watching the others work. Giving her a sideways glance as he walked by, Urthin approached Tarn.
“Tarn,” The monk’s face was slightly concerned, which for anyone else would mean almost nothing, but to Tarn it spoke volumes. “My ‘body reserves’ are down to 52%. Only you have the team interface, how does that compare to the others?”
“Good point, Smiley. Let me take a look.”
Pushing past the constant warnings about low gem reserves and the temperature, Tarn focused on the list that showed specifically the ‘body reserves’. He had taken this to mean how their bodies were fighting against the onslaught of the Gray – a place they were never supposed to exist in.
He decided he didn’t need to know what would happen if the number reached zero. He was pretty sure it was in their best interests to never find out.
TEAM STATUS – Body reserves
Tarn: 41%
Urthin: 52%
Bog: 43%
Lash: 48%
Isca: 65%
Aryo: 65%
Narsol: 46%
Jental: 85%
“Mine are at 85%,” Jental said, echoing Tarn’s interface. “It says ‘camp to restore’ but I guess that’s out.”
“It would seem combat and effort impact the rate of use.”
“Effort?” Isca laughed bitterly, while holding her torch to the gathered debris Lash and Aryo had gathered. “That would explain why she’s at 85!”
Jental stuck her tongue out at Isca, who responded with a gesture using her hands and antennae that Tarn was sure was pretty cutting back on her world.
“One crate was undamaged,” Narsol said, placing a wooden box down in the snow between the three of them. It was rectangular, and Tarn judged it to be about a foot square. Emblazed on the side was the same sword emblem that had been present on the sack.
“A gift from a friend?” Urthin raised an eyebrow.
The fire roared to life, for a moment pushing the snow and wind back. Despite the new discovery, Tarn found himself moving toward the blaze instinctively. As a group, the team all quickly gathered around the small collection of stones that Isca had arranged against the rocky wall.
Tarn held his hands toward the fire, feeling the welcome warmth of the blaze against his hands. He didn’t need to check his interface to know his temperature condition was improving. For a moment, no one spoke, each just relishing the moment of comfort and the soothing crackle of the wood.
“Great work,” Tarn said. “Let me see if I can get the camp up, and then we’ll take a look at that crate you found, Narsol.”
Filled with hopeful energy, Tarn focused on the camp option in his mind. He was greeted instead with another error, and an only slightly less painful accompanying headache.
WARNING: GEM RESOURCES LOW. INSUFFICIENT SHELTER FOR FULL CAMP PARTIAL CAMP AVAILABLE
Another new one, eh? He focused on the ‘partial camp’.
Partial Camp (Phase-shifted Captain / Camp)
Requirement: Active campfire
The phase-shifted Captain may create a partial camp, which will contain bedrolls for up to six party members. Bedrolls allow for +15 temperature.
1 hour of rest within bedroll will restore 20% of Body Reserve.
Camp rations may be offered.
Note: Camp will deactivate if requirements do not remain active.
Activate Partial Camp?
Tarn focused on
“By the Vines,” Narsol exclaimed. He looked down at his own gem in disappointment. “If only I had been given such a gift by my dungeon.”
“It’s better than we had, but not as much as I wanted.”
“Still – I get to cook something!” Bog crowed happily. Her eyes lost their focus, as Tarn was sure she was scanning what recipes might be available in this limited setup.
“That’s a good idea, Bog. But make it quick. We only have six hours of camp time, less if we lose the fire. We need to eat and get what sleep we can.”
“One too few bedrolls though,” Jental counted out the sleeping options, pointing at each. “But the gremlin can easily fit with someone?”
“Nope,” Tarn shook his head. “It’s just the right number of bedrolls, because someone needs to keep watch - and an eye on this fire. That someone is you, Jental. You have the most body reserve left.”
Tarn waited for a pout or complaint. But Jental was smart, she knew when a battle wasn’t worth fighting. Keeping eye contact with Tarn, she nodded then winked.
“I’ll keep the fire going, and a watch.”
Tarn sat down between Isca and Lash, letting his boots get as close to the fire as felt safe.
“Are you sure about her?” Isca whispered. “I’m not sure I can sleep knowing my safety depends on her.”
“Sharp girl.” Lash spoke out of the side of his mouth, though at the normal volume. “Sharp stick, sharp brain. She know to keep us safe.”
“Thank you, Lash!” Jental ruffled the gremlin’s ears as Lash’s eyes closed in appreciation. “It’s good to be appreciated by someone.”
His muscles aching, Tarn walked over to the collection of bedrolls arranged in a circle. Bog had already climbed into one, her large size humorously compressed into the too-small blue sleeping bag. Tarn selected one directly across from her and slowly eased himself in.
He immediately felt more relaxed. The interior felt lined with fur, and it had a smooth comfort to it that seemed to pull the energy from his tried limbs. Stretching his arms over his head, he looked up into the cloud-strewn sky and allowed his mind to slowly wander.
Worries and thoughts kept trying to intrude, but he did his best to push them away. Sleep was crucial to his body, and he didn’t need his mind trying to sabotage it with its array of valid-but-distracting problems.
In his mind, he built a King’s Squares board and began placing pieces one by one. A tower here, a fortress there. As he did, he could feel the stresses pulling away like the tide. By the time he heard the low buzz of Isca landing next to him and getting into her bedroll, he felt far more relaxed.
“Nice of you to grab the spot next to mine.” Tarn looked over at Isca, giving her a smile. He was rewarded with a small grin from her, and the blush coming to her cheeks. Between the crackle of the fire and the wind’s howl, he was sure no one else could hear them.
“It was that,” she said. “Or the one over there next to Bog. I’d never get any sleep there – honestly, I do not know how anyone can sleep near that woman’s snoring, least of all Lash.”
“You get used to it,” Tarn said with a laugh, which turned into a yawn. The first footfalls of sleep had begun dancing at the edge of his senses, sending a pleasing sense of peace throughout him. Despite an environment that was literally killing them by the minute, he felt more relaxed than he had in months.
“What’s with Narsol?” Isca nodded her head toward the edge of camp, where the orc was standing. His arms were outstretched, and he was performing what looked to Tarn like a rehearsed dance. Across the fire, he could see Bog’s curious stare as she watched from afar.
“Doing some sort of meditation, maybe?” Tarn wondered. “Likely an orc custom we haven’t been exposed to. He and I had a bit of a … conversation earlier. A teamwork discussion you could say. So he could be working that out.”
“I see.” Isca’s antennae crossed for a moment, then relaxed. She rolled onto her back, away from Tarn and faced the sky. “Team dynamics can be challenging. Do you trust him?”
“Not a bit. He’s got his own agenda, there’s definitely something he’s not telling us. This is a partnership of convenience on both our parts.”
“Then why did you allow him to come?”
“My gut told me to.” Tarn laughed. “Maybe that doesn’t make much sense. Plus, he knows about the Axe, and we need that knowledge. He was clearly coming here anyway – it’s his only realistic path back home. Better he’s with us than Yarex.”
“Makes sense,” she said, her voice sleepy. She laughed, softly. “Hopefully you didn’t screw it up with him then.”
He looked at her, flat on her back as she looked up at the sky. A question popped into his mind, one that normally he might have kept to himself. It was probably rude, but his cold-addled brain had him saying it before he ever realized.
“Doesn’t it hurt you to lay on top of your wings like that?”
Without moving, she stiffened for a moment, her antennae stiffening. Then she seemed to soften, and laughed again, a tiny sound that was barely audible.
“That is your question?” She shook her head. “All this, everything we’ve seen and done, and that’s what’s on your mind?”
“What can I say?” He rolled onto his back as well, looking at the cold dark of the clouds above. “I tend to look and think about what’s in front of me at that moment.”
“Someday then, Tarn. When there are no Progenitors or dungeons. No gems, or wolves, or monsters. I think you and I will find somewhere warmer than this, and we will make a fire. And then we’ll ask each other all the questions we shouldn’t be asking right now.”
The message was clear, and she was right. He’d felt the spark growing between the two of them over the past few months, and he was sure it was a mutual interest. But this was not the time. Their lives were complicated enough, and their minds needed to be focused on the fight before them.
After all, there would be plenty of time after all this. Wouldn’t there?
Tarn thought back to the first moments when he had met Isca, flying as she fought alone against the creatures of the Sword Dungeon. In the days that followed, they argued, they fought, and they nearly died.
She had helped save his home, and was helping again. And he had vowed to do the same for her. And then… maybe even the Sighted of the Shattered Stone did not know what would happens then. Or if that opportunity would even come.
“That sounds.” His voice trailed off, as he considered saying more and deciding against it. “That sounds … pretty great.”
He allowed his eyes to close. If Isca heard him, she made no answer. There was nothing to hear but the distant cry of the wolves, the air running through the canyon, and Bog’s incredibly loud snoring.
Sleep took him, and he welcomed it.