There were fewer people on the streets today. Maso didn't blame them; it was windy, leaves rustling noisily in the background, the noise and blustering gales sufficient to make it unpleasant just being outside.
Most of the preparation for the incoming storm had already been completed. The lowest floors of the buildings around them had now been completely cleared out, what little remained packed into wooden crates fastened solidly to their wooden frames. The streets were void of stands or toys or the small wooden benches he'd seen many families share, and the decorations that had line the streets - little potted plants, poles with lamps on top, and a variety of other miscellaneous things - had all been removed.
Without the children playing in the streets, the busy food stands and loud conversations, the village was completely desolate. It reminded Maso more of his home, now, albeit less cramped and with much fresher air.
The stark contrast to just a day or two before also highlighted how small the village really was. They had been walking for three or four minutes, and were nearly at the beach, gusts of wind becoming damper and more consistent in direction.
Of course, Maso had no real context for most of the climate here.
On the Origin, weather was a real and constant threat. From severe windstorms carrying toxic particles to rain that rapidly ate away at any human construct, there were enough dangers outside to make it consistently inhospitable without the correct equipment.
And everyone who did spend time in the outdoors, anyone who worked on infrastructure or research or just had to travel to other population centers for any reason - they all inevitably thought about the same thing. What did this world look like before?
Whatever the true answer to that question was, Maso found it hard to imagine being anything like this. The difference was just too vast. As they passed the last of the village's increasingly ramshackle buildings, he could take in the beach - for only the second time in the few days he'd been here.
It was perfection.
Well, slightly less so today, with blowing sand obscuring some of his vision, and a distinct turmoil to the ocean that made it less than clear. But the absolute desolation of the place made up for it - only a single Aspen was present, a man standing some distance down the beach, staring out into the ocean. Otherwise, it was cleared out, an uncountable number of footprints and small bits of debris being wiped away as they watched, wind pushing sand into holes and toppling small constructs that children had built only days prior.
Lanoch, who was walking a pace or two ahead of them, strode directly towards the beach, bare feet digging into the ground slightly with every step. Rèmsciore's footsteps were considerably deeper. The taller man seemed to be lost in thought, staring at the ground as he walked. Maso stayed to his left, taking in the sights. Both Lanoch and Rèmsciore were native to this world. As a visitor - perhaps this world's first tourist, if he really stretched it - he felt obligated to enrich his time by enjoying the landscape.
The ocean appeared to stretch infinitely in every direction, its brilliant blue colour reflecting starlight into his eyes. If he squinted and stared North, he thought he could see some land; from the map of the continent he'd seen, it was supposed to be visible there. But the wayfinder had no data on any other landmasses, and indeed he couldn't make out anything other than ocean and clouds in any other direction.
Just an endless, somewhat indistinct body of water, enough for every human on the Origin to never go thirsty.
Maso wondered briefly if they'd come here, assuming he was able to somehow communicate with anyone back on the Origin. Would humanity finally have a new, properly hospitable home? Would they bring their networked intelligences, and their plans and methods of development?
Staring out at the picturesque ocean, an image flashed into Maso's mind of the small bodies of water that still existed on the Origin, disgustingly dark and contaminated. Previous iterations of humanity had somehow managed to do that to an entire planet's source of water.
That wouldn't happen again, Maso thought resolutely.
Lanoch cleared her throat, bringing him out of his thoughts. He stopped beside Rèmsciore, Lanoch having turned to face them.
"How we'll travel north is simple," she said. "We'll take a Jran. It's the right time of year for it, so there should be quite a few near the coast."
"A jir-what?" Maso asked.
"A Jran," Lanoch said, rolling the r more noticeably this time, "is just an ocean creature. They're usually quite dangerous to get close to, which is why experienced Aspen usually learn the magic required to pacify them. If it's used properly, I've heard they can be compliant enough to ride for quite a distance. More than enough to get us to our destination, presumably."
Something touched the side of Maso's head, and he spun around - only to see that it was Rèmsciore's hair, the man whipping his head back and forth so vigorously it took a moment for Maso to realize that it was supposed to be an emphatic no.
"I take it you don't like this idea, either," Lanoch said, rolling her eyes. "It's okay. If you don't like my way of doing things, you don't have to come, after all."
"You're insane," Rèmsciore said, apparently realizing that his head-shaking hadn't managed to communicate his message. "Those things could eat someone our size without choking."
"Right," Lanoch said, "which is why you'd use magic to keep it calm, so we can travel safely. To your friends, mind you."
"Firstly, the spell for that is known to be unreliable, especially when used by someone who's not experienced with it. Secondly, just getting near those beasts is a recipe for trouble, using them as a shortcut is a frankly ridiculous-"
"I thought Jran was how everyone here traveled long distances by water," Lanoch cut in.
"- no, well, yes, which is exactly why nobody does it-"
"But you were in the military. Wouldn't that require flexibility in how you travel?"
"No, because we're not insane - just who do you think we are? We're not Avalla, we don't stick our noses - or beaks, whichever - where they don't belong. We only need to control our own territory, which we can do perfectly well by land."
Lanoch stared him in the eyes. "Our own territory. Right."
There was a sudden silence, like the wind had vanished - although it was still there, just overshadowed by a pressure in the air, an odd sense of danger emanating from Rèmsciore's stiff expression.
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The man had seemed consistently friendly and upbeat before, but that aura was gone like it had never existed, replaced by a cold glare that screamed danger to Maso, like any second he would snap and-
"Hello?" came a hesitant voice, accented in the more lilting tones of the local villagers.
Maso turned his head. It was the man he'd spotted before, the Aspen who'd been present on the beach before them. Something told him that the man didn't want to be here; his wind-tousled hair combined with reddish eyes and a worried expression made for an almost poetically distraught visage.
"I overheard one of you mention Jran. Do you know how to ride them?" the man asked, voice low and somewhat hard to make out through the noise of the wind.
"I do," Rèmsciore said, calmly. Maso glanced at him; he appeared as friendly as before, but there was something off about it, like a layer of veneer had been removed. Not enough to truly see what he was feeling, but still hinting at it.
"Oh, thank the Thadh," the man said. "Please help me. My children were out fishing earlier in the morning, but they haven't come back, and I've lost sight of them. They were supposed to be back before the storm really began, but it's worsened faster than I expected and the water already looks dangerous."
"You don't have another boat?" Lanoch said, arching an eyebrow. "That's a bit irresponsible."
"They should have been back by now... the ocean is turbulent enough already that I don't think I could find them if I tried, anyways." The man rubbed his forehead and stared at the ground. "If you go by Jran, you'd be able to find them in no time."
"All right, we'll do it," Rèmsciore said, before Maso could say anything. "We'll get them back if we can find them."
"Thank you!" the man said, looking up again at Rèmsciore. "Thank you! I will repay you however possible."
"That's not necessary. We'll be back shortly."
Rèmsciore immediately started walking, away from the man and further down the beach. None of them said anything until they were out of earshot, Lanoch immediately speaking up: "This is an egregious waste of time."
Maso stayed quiet, but in his mind he almost agreed. Sure, he'd enjoyed talking to the locals, eating food with them and listening to stories, for the brief time he'd been here. But even putting aside the need he felt to get in contact with the Origin as soon as possible, the quest that they were already on seemed an order of magnitude more important than this - and time sensitive, too.
"The Jran usually congregate back here before the storm begins," Rèmsciore said, ignoring her. "We'll just have to bait one onto land, which shouldn't be too hard." He eyed Maso. "You'll work as bait. At your level, I'm sure one will think you're an easy target."
"Mm-hm. So you do know the taming spell, then." Lanoch smirked. "I thought that you were just trying to cover up a serious gap in knowledge. That doesn't change anything, though. If you know it, then we'll go North immediately. We don't have time to waste on - what, hunting down wayward children?"
Rèmsciore stopped and stared at her. "Do either of you pay attention to your quests?"
Oh, Maso thought. He'd ignored the quest popup - like he did almost all of them - when the man had requested their help, the required focus to cause it to minimize itself already instinctive. He took the opportunity to 'open' it now - focusing on the hovering title bar caused the full text to cascade down, the bright yellow background covering half of Rèmsciore's face.
> New Side Quest: Heir Hunt
>
> Kids these days - always prioritizing fun over not drowning!
>
> Find two children (before they suffer a horrible fate) and bring them back to their father.
>
> Rewards: A moderate amount of reputation. The profuse thanks of a father. A warm glow in the shriveled onion you call a 'heart', enough to tell yourself that you're a good person.
>
> Penalties for Failure: A small amount of guilt, distilled into the realization that you're not a good person.
"Maso's reputation level is basically that of a novice," Rèmsciore said. "And I don't know about you, but mine has atrophied enough in the last two years that I'm not confident in using any of my higher level magic. Attempting some kind of clandestine operation in foreign territory is crazy enough without using every opportunity we can to level up."
Lanoch snorted. "Fair enough. But you were so scared of using a Jran before. What changed?"
"It's much safer if we use one in a smaller range," Rèmsciore said flatly, ignoring the jab. "And if we're going to use them to travel further anyways, it's best that you both know what we're getting into."
Maso shrugged. He still hadn't seen a Jran yet. Based on Rèmsciore's reaction - and the fact that the man had been fairly calm around gigantic, man-eating spiders - he wasn't sure he wanted to. But Rèmsciore did seem to be taking this seriously, and if he knew some kind of magic that would make it safe... what was the worst that could happen?
Not two minutes later, that question was answered.
Maso had thought that there would be some kind of process - that they'd prepare somehow, lay a trap for whatever the creature was or at least come up with a proper plan of action. Instead, Rèmsciore had simply told Maso to stand close to the water, and then walked a few paces back with Lanoch before saying a few words that sounded like Attract Hostiles.
If it wasn't for the fact that Maso had already offloaded his perception to his neural augment, he wasn't sure he'd have caught it in time. As it was, he barely saw the change in the water, just a small pair of approaching bubbles that quickly fizzled out in the constant waves.
"I think it's coming!" he called out.
"There's going to be two!" Rèmsciore yelled, suddenly beside Maso. He held his sword in one hand the other one waving in the air in front of him.
"Why did you summon two?" said Lanoch.
"It's just a bait spell! I can't control how many of them react. Come on, you take the one on the right, I'll try to tame the left one."
Maso quickly reviewed his defensive options. He still had the machete, but he had to guess that it wouldn't be particularly effective. The only other option was magic, but - the only spell he knew that seemed to have combat applications was Bisect, and he hadn't practiced since he'd first used it.
Still, if it was his only option... "Thadh," Maso's voice spoke, still using the saved routine he'd embedded in his neural augment. The menus popped up, and his eyes darted towards the Spells section, about to focus on Bisect's box -
When the two creatures crested out of the water in tandem, and his concentration was completely broken.
Maso's eyes skipped over features in fractions of a second, taking in every part of the two beasts. The most obvious was their thick, long necks that each ended in a gigantic mouth, lined with gleaming teeth that were about as long and sharp as his machete. Their eyes bulged out on both sides, but were mostly covered by scaled lids, yellow irises visible only beneath inch-high slits.
Below the neck - that was where they became truly bizarre. It jutted out of a massive shell, circular but somewhat flat on the top. The analytical part of him - which had mostly stayed hidden for the time he'd been here, beaten back by how strange and unpredictable events had been since he'd awoken - suddenly brought a thought to the forefront of his mind: I suppose that's where you sit to ride them.
A very irrelevant thought, if they didn't survive the next few minutes.
More important were the gigantic flippers that stuck out of the shell, six of them, each easily half as long as Maso was tall, wide and razor-sharp.
Maso focused. At the rate they were moving, the Jran would be on top of them in - one, two seconds. He couldn't move that fast; he'd already narrowed down his options. He stared at the bisect spell and focused, willing it to be cast at least close to the one on the right.
The explosion happened a moment later, closer than the last time he'd used it. But still off, appearing several feet above the thing's head.
At the same time, Lanoch used a spell. Unlike Rèmsciore, she spoke out loud, a stream of gibberish syllables that Maso didn't recognize. Within a moment, a roar of flame burst out of her mouth, her head snapping back. The fire washed over the creature, and it recoiled, flippers digging into sand as it slowed and stopped, shaking its head.
Maso was too focused on this to pay attention to what Rèmsciore was doing, and he cast bisect again. This time, the explosion was more accurate; he'd targeted it further back to reduce the chance it would hit Lanoch, and a bright flash appeared just behind the creature's neck, pushing its head forward into the flame.
To his right, Lanoch was speaking again. The sand in front of them exploded, striking the Jran's underside. It had started scrambling towards them again, and Maso focused on bisect. Then it stalled, bucked its head, and spun around. Maso's bisect missed, but the explosion seemed to propel the Jran forward, as it darted back towards the water.
Lanoch didn't use another spell, and within a moment it had vanished, disappearing beneath the waves.
And to their right, the other Jran was... calmly eyeing Rèmsciore, head somewhat bowed and dangerous mouth closed. Rèmsciore held out his hand, and scratched beneath its chin.
"Well," Lanoch said. "That was easier than expected."