Chapter Ten

Healing Baths

Wakefulness came in with a wave of nausea and pain from glaring light and thunderous voices. Ogre opened his eyes slowly feeling light pierce them through like arrows. Then closed them with a quick jolt. He opened them again to slits as grumbling voices brought him back from the short dark reprieve. His nose felt like it was stuffed with wool, his mouth as if caked in mud and his tongue in hoary scales. His voice came in a croak, that sounded several tones too deep, and cracked as if someone took it from his throat and stepped on it. “What…what is this, why does everything hurt so much?”

Ogre stood with groan. Speaking brought the ripe stench of vomit from his own mouth to pierce his stopped nostrils. A wave of nausea hit him so hard that he reached out wildly to grab anything to keep him steady. Unfortunately, one of those things was a mumbling Boar that was nearly twice as unsteady as he. Byre crashed to the floor like a smithy shook by an earthquake, making enough noise to have many dozens of beasts turning their way. Ogre windmilled his arm now freed by the falling boar, and clutched a heavy table as his knees buckled. By supreme effort and concentration, he kept to his paws. Byre looked at the dog with bloodshot eyes ringing marble black iris. “I think Imma be drunk for a week. Who are you?”

Ogre closed his eyes against another wave of nausea clenching his teeth so that his food would not come up. It made the dog angry that his body would betray him in such a way. Food is a source of strength for me, I will not disgrace myself by giving it up for a sour stomach! After a moment, he looked with bleary eyes at the hill of a beast at his sabatons, speaking with care. “I am Ogre…and I do not…are you Byre the guard at the gate?”

Ogre could remember that much. As a matter of course, he could recall all the way up to downing his tenth ale. After that, the boar suggested that they move on to hard spirits. The dog could curse the beast. Moreover, he could curse himself twice over for agreeing.

“Orda…Orda, is it morning?” Ogre whispered, peering around at the hapless, red-eyed beasts around him.

“There’s no need to shout me down, Captain.” The otter groaned, before the creature looked Ogre up and down, “You’ve grown again, like a weed. You’ll be bigger than a boar by the end of the week if you keep this up.”

Ogre shook his head to free himself of the commentary, and nearly cried. He crashed to the floor, gauntlet slipping on the aged, polished wood of the table as he pulled a chair down upon himself. A chorus of moans followed the loud crash. The dog laid where he fell, breathing heavily, eyes closed, just trying to keep his skull from breaking apart.

“What is this?” The voice was a baritone as hard as stone, and big, easily as large as a boar’s if not quite as vociferous.

To Ogre it was thunder pounded into his ears with a great maul. The dog opened his eyes to glare murder at a towering shape six paws taller than the boar that still struggled to get to his armoured hooves. The ram’s impressive rack of horns corkscrewed out from its skull before coming to sharp points before it, like spearheads. His coat was bluish gray and short, it’s eyes bearing pupils like black bars set-in golden-brown pools as big as a paw. The dog looked at his gauntlet, his paws had doubled in size since the last time he truly looked at them. So not my paws, but a lesser beast’s paws for sure. The ram was clad in a thick fawn gambeson, padded trousers and black steel sabatons and greaves. It took Ogre a minute to recall the beast directing the training of the beasts, when the dog first entered the Adventurer’s Guild. Next to the ram, at the height of his thigh, stood the ewe, Bahbrah, looking ruffled, like a mother hen peering at unruly chicks.

She smoothed her livery over her hips, before speaking, “You have made a mess of your first night here, Ogre, and you otters. I thought better of you Orda, I thought you had the sense to keep this one in line! Never the mind, up on your hind legs, pinch the cheeks, and ready yourself. You are already late by half the morning, I’ll not have you waste any more of Lambana’s time. And you Cori, here too. Ah yes, I expected as much of you Byre. No Yonbore to keep you on your hoof-tips?”

Byre groaned in acknowledgement, but as the dog sat up, he could not see the smaller dog anywhere.

Bahbrah sighed and tapped the giant Ram’s knee guard, “Can you wake them up, Orstrong? I do not like rude, but they were rude first, so you don’t have to be overtly gentle about it.”

“It will sour the water for the morning training, but they can run to fetch more when we are done.” He seemed to paused before adding, “I’ve had nights like this, perchance they were celebrating life as only an adventurer would?”

“Duty first, foolishness after, they failed on the former and doubled down on the latter. Please Orstrong, the dog is a level 4 but I think you should handle him personally, a bite from that head would be nasty.”

“As you command.” Orstrong said, picking Ogre up by the scruff on his neck with a grunt, “You are heavier than you look pup.”

Ogre clenched his eyes shut, and hugged himself against the dizziness and nausea that rolled over him as he swung in the clutches of the ram. He did not speak, he did not move, he did not even groan or moan. Ogre put every ounce of effort in keeping down the contents of his belly. The dog realized he must have dozed off despite himself as he slowly sunk into a breathless ease where the pain and nausea faded like a bad dream. But it came back in with a jolt as water abruptly surrounded him on all sides. He kicked scratching sabatons on flagstones and scrabbling on old wood as water filled his mouth and nose. Just as suddenly he was free. Ogre fell back eyes wide, coughing up a bucket of water before getting to his paws in a smooth warrior’s stance and calling forth his new black iron cleaver.

“Peace. Young traveler, put up your arms, there is no need for bloodshed.” Said the Ram, arms folded over a barrel chest, standing at his leisure before the angry hound.

Ogre growled and called another weapon, this one a greatsword, with shards of metal where a great blade had been. The dog looked at it, irritably, recalling the goblins that he shattered the weapon on and dismissed it. He did not put up his cleaver. The ram lifted a brow, “I have opened up my Status Mirror, look at it, look at the stats, deprived.”

Ogre looked at them, then at the Ram once more, not backing down. Orstrong gave him a curious once over. It was the look of a warrior that was excited.

“I am to test you, but you are getting my hopes up, dog, are you a fool or are you strong enough to face me knowing that I am nearly a thousand levels higher than you?” The Ram held out both forehooves, taking the great wooden swords that fell into them from his inventory without looking. “Put up your weapon, dog. This is a practice ground, iron is for monsters, not beasts who mean you no harm.”

Ogre growled at the Ram once more then put the cleaver away. This…pain in my body, the drinking it’s making me more irritable than normal. Orstrong tossed the sword on the flagstones at Ogre’s sabatons.

“The testing starts now.” He said, darting forward as the dog picked up the wooden replica.

Ogre gripped the sword in his gauntlets, one paw close to the crosstrees and the other tight against the pommel and swung with all his might.

“Fool…you don’t commit so much to an opening…ooph”

Orstrong’s words faded into a shocked gasp, as he took the tip of the dog’s sword, on the base of his and was hurled back like a stone from a sling. The ram flailed arms and hooves, dropping his wooden sword, as he struggled to keep to his sabatons, before tripping and rolling back, horns over armoured hooves before skidding to a stop on his back in a shower of orange sparks and curses. Ogre looked at his broken sword then dropped it, it was useless now. The snap of the wood breaking was swallowed by the clap of wood striking wood. The dog then suddenly threw his paws out wide to steady himself against a sudden onslaught of nausea. He closed his eyes to limit his exposure to stimuli, then tilted his nose high to let gravity help him try to keep his dinner down. I’m even stronger than I was before. How much did I eat last night? There were a few banners that tried to get his attention, but he willed them away. He could not focus on reading anything right now. Standing was difficult enough.

“That was…unexpected,” Ram said, “I heard that you put away enough spirits to put a debuff of at least 75% on all your stats. If that is true…you truly are a monster. And you are not a level 4 adventurer. You’re not a level 4 hero either. Slayer maybe? Hunter?”

Ogre sucked in breaths, feeling the warm air whistle past his thick fangs. The pounding in his skull would not go away.

“Are you up for another round?”

The dog finally opened his bloodshot eyes and glared at the Ram once more. He was wearing different gauntlets now, gauntlets that glowed with a suspicious energy. It curled off the shiny metal in luminous yellow-white tendrils.

“What is that?” Asked Ogre, closing his eyes once more.

“Ah…the gauntlets, they are engine armour,” Orstrong said, “They’ll give me the means to truly test your limits. I’ve heard of some strange rumors from the tower. Perhaps they only slightly exaggerate.”

“So…cheating.” Ogre grumbled,

The leather and material of the padding the Ram wore seemed to groan in what the dog assumed was a shrug. “You can leave right now if you wish. I’ll even pass you as high as an inept, which would barely qualify you for Goblin Extermination at best. Or you can fight me some more and find out a bit more about this world. Your raw strength is impressive, but there is more to fighting and adventuring than simple stats from basic leveling.”

The dog heard the clatter as another wooden greatsword dropped to the flagstones once more at his sabatons. His groan was theatrical and did not convince Orstrong one bit. He did not care. He was hurting and wanted to take out some of that pain on another beast with a clear conscience. Ogre opened his eyes, and picked up his practice sword, keeping his gaze steady on the Ram. Orstrong came at him, sword high, in Vertical Slash, he did not call out the skill name. The ram’s blade struck his about halfway down the greatsword, forcing his greatsword down to slam into his left shoulder. A bolt of pain shot through his left arm, making it go numb. Ogre clutched the practice sword in his right gauntlet, and quickly backed away. Orstrong followed him, armoured hooves pointed toward the dog, wooden sword point directed at his nose. If the ram had called the skill name, wood blade or no the strength alone would have smashed through his body, and critically injured him.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Engine armour can increase a beast’s strength up to a thousand-fold. As I’m only wearing the gauntlets, the strength benefit I retain is only about twenty. High forms of this armour can make a common beast, a creature who cannot even compete with a level zero adventurer, as strong as a Kiloton.”

Ogre shook his numb left arm and felt a wash of cool relief flow over him, as feeling trickled back into his arm. He slid the paw back on the hilt of the wooden blade and barely had a chance to raise his sword before Orstrong attacked again. Horizontal slash, diagonal, diagonal, vertical overhead, thrust. He did not meet wooden sword with wood sword, the Ram was too strong, he slipped through the barrage and dodged three moves before the fourth and fifth connected. The one to his right shoulder made him drop the practice sword, with gritted teeth. The thrust pushed every ounce of air from his chest like a collapsing bellows, making him empty his stomach all over the flagstones and Orstrong’s armoured hooves.

“That was foolish of me, a lesson where we both suffer something is like beheading an enemy that stabs you in the heart.” Orstrong said, “I’m sure you get the point, but so would I. As the executioner, in my example of course.”

“Please…” Gasped Ogre, “Please…stop. Your quip has the speed of cold melted sugar.”

Orstrong frowned at the mess of bile on his boots. “Not that I’m complaining, but I heard you ate five hundred pounds of meat, last night, and when everyone had their turn at emptying their belly, you had their meals too. Is this all you have to bring up? Do you digest food so quickly?”

Ogre reached a trembling paw for the wooden sword.

“That’s enough of that. You may rest from your efforts for now.”

“Oh…thank the Godlion.” Ogre breathed falling on his rump, and groaning as he lifted his nose to the morning sky, closing his eyes at once. “Was the day always this bright?”

“I’m sure that it is quite overcast this morning, dog.” The Ram sounded as if he was choking on something.

“But, the heat…the heat must be extra stifling, this morning.”

“Cloud cover is extensive and it’s yet to reach the height of the day’s heat.”

The dog went quiet.

Orstrong blew out sharply. “Despite all looks, you acquitted yourself well. I see now that you have directly fought monsters, your reaction speed is pretty scary for one with so little skill. You know four skills at least, but you do not do well with advanced swordplay. You were defeated with a simple barrage of attacks that is equal to your level of strength and ferocity. My assessment is that you are too strong for your own good. You use raw power over everything and once you face a skilled opponent beast or monster you will die. Destructive force will only get you so far. You need to be skillful.”

“I’m…new to this.” Said Ogre, “I only know how to fight to survive. And raw strength is what saved me when I had to.”

“I can teach you. Ten silver jules for the upfront, a silver a day for daily training, the same as the rest.”

The dog opened one eye. “I’ll think about it, that is once I have figured out how to earn the appropriate amount of jules.”

Orstrong grinned. “I’ll give you a free day, if you fight me with my full engine armour on.”

Ogre rolled his eyes. “You are sadistic, ram.”

“It’s likely how every monster that got crushed by you felt. It’ll be an way to earn insight into true fighting. Plus, I’ll get to practice with my engine plate.”

Ogre breathed deeply tasting the foul bile, and shuddering against the fleshy burn of nose and throat. “Did I pass?”

“As an Inept? Of course.” Said Orstrong, “Your strength and lack of skill tells me that you will benefit most from starting at the beginning. Your otters, on the other hoof are ready for novice, three ranks up from inept.”

“Of course.” Ogre groaned.

“Will you show me your Status Archaia?”

The dog froze, speaking carefully, “You can already see it.”

“Of course. It’s just impolite not to ask.”

“It’s an illusion of propriety, you have already seen it right? I’ll guess that after our first clash you took a quick peak.”

Orstrong shrugged, “It’s not as impolite in situations such as these…fighting and training situations that is, however, I’m sure Bahbrah would like me to highlight how Manners Mint the Adventurer. I suppose it would be pointless to exclaim on how far out of the ordinary a low level such as yourself is, with stats like these.”

Ogre snorted carefully through his nose, barely making a sound, “I am sure it is uncommon in this place, but you are not the first to inform me of this. Is there really more to fighting than using skills? And can it make me more effective at slaying my enemies?”

Orstrong gave the dog a considering look, “Yes…it will, but perhaps I should be more hesitant about teaching it to you. Once you are skilled and once you reach an appropriate level you may become unstoppable by all but an illustrious Felidae.”

Ogre snorted again this time loud enough to make himself flinch. “I haven’t heard much about the ‘so-called’ strength of a feli. Are they so special? The one I met in the tower seemed, less imposing than what I have been told thereafter.”

The ram lifted his wooden greatsword, and brought it down hard on Ogre’s head. The force of the blow made him jolt as the sword broke in half. Ogre gave Orstrong a flat look.

“Another beast would not have fared so well against such a blow, why did you attack me!”

“Another beast would not have spoken so carelessly about our overlords, fool pup.”

Ogre stood, barely swaying as he bared his teeth. The ram took a step back into a fighting stance forehoof held out to catch a weapon from his inventory, if it was needed. He spoke carefully, with an even tone but his eyes were hard. “You will get a lot of beasts slain if you keep up that indifferent attitude about the illustrious felidae. They rule supremely here.”

“So, I keep hearing,” Grumbled Ogre, looking the big ram up and down. “Do I look like a pup to you?”

Orstrong held his gaze for a moment longer before straightening. He looked like he was always ready to fall into fighting stance, even when he was relaxed. “No, you look bigger than you should be, and that head is nearly as impressive as my well-curled horns. Warriors can grow pretty big, so it’s not uncommon.”

The dog rubbed his head absentmindedly as if wondering why it did not hurt. The ram gave him a quick look that said the same. The otters trudged up at that moment, looking even worst than Ogre. Sweat slicked their fur under armoured plate and gambeson, and vomit stained three out of four of their fronts. Orda was not free of the stench of alcohol, but the contents of their bellies did not cling to him as it did the others. Did he know to abstain from drinking too much? If so why are his eyes redder than mine?

“I think we overdid it a bit, last night sir,” Orda said to Ogre, nodding warily to the towering Orstrong, “Are you going to try to drown us, like your minions did?”

The ram smiled, “Only if you don’t do as you are told. “Now, if you all are finished, we will need some water for the watering troughs, now that you lot have fouled them. Quickly, now grab one of my students and ask them where to find it.”

“I’d say in a well somewhere.” Said Xendaranan. His eyelids were so low that he looked like he was speaking in his sleep.

Aida nodded so careful, that it seemed that she feared her head would roll from her shoulders if she were too vigorous. “The river outside the town is too far away.”

“I meant in the square.” Orstrong said, “You all seem to have a nasty case of witticism. It will be fine though, nothing a bit of training won’t fix. Right pup?”

“Will you stop calling me pup?” Said Ogre, “Why isn’t that rude?”

“Once you get taller than waist height, I’ll name you dog. And as for rudeness the ones who know the rules can make them work for him, inept.”

“Inept?” Vedana asked, looking between dog and ram. “They said we would be novices…after they kicked our tails in.”

“You three will, now go,”

Orda looked to Ogre, who nodded subtly before speaking. “Yes Master-at-arms, let’s go you lot!”

Orstrong said nothing as the otters replaced the water with clay jugs taken from their inventory, after filling them at a fountain, near the pillar in the center of the circle before the guild. The ram then took them all to a washroom to clean themselves. The room was large with closed off stalls lining half it’s interior walls that could rain clear water down upon a beast from a small free-floating disk of copper. Near the entrance and exit, there were heavy wooden section with piles of folded linen. A massive square bathe dominated the center of the room, with a stone fountain in the center of it, topped with a flat-face soapstone creature washing the back of another beast. Ogre still felt weakened from the overindulgence the night before, but he gradually realized the state that he was in. His gambeson was shredded across the front, where the gremlin hacked into his breastplate. Blood stains dyed the low grade padding a permanent brown, and bluish hue, painted by his body and the corpses of troglodyte, slime, goblin, and gremlin. He was filthy, mud and ordure from dead monsters, and dust from walking on the road to Cerulean clad his sabatons and greaves, and crusted his gauntlets. His short fur was matted in patches of dirt and worse. Orstrong directed them on how the communal bath worked. They were to clean themselves with the scented water that fell upon them like rain in the stalls, scrubbing with pumice or brush if needed before rinsing and then soaking as a group in the square pool.

The drinking from the night before was still mostly a blur but as time passed, he was able to remember snippets of conversation early in the evening. The otters told stories about their time in the Tutorial Levels, about some of the companions they lost before they even met Ogre; some of the friends they had to kill because of the leveling bliss, loot, or simple bloodlust. Orda told him that there were beasts who recalled their worlds before they were taken to the tower. “They were the first beasts to die. Many were slain while they just sat there raving about mists and worldeaters, and the need to gain soulweight before the stars swallowed them, as a beast slit their throat.” Ogre remembered that Cori, the small fox-like dog called for another round of ale to cover the awkward pause in conversation from the brutal recollection.

Soaking in the pool was a new experience for Ogre, it was a simple sort of bliss, that soothed the aches and pains of his body and head, and pulled at the tangle of emotion wrapped tight around his heart. Lam’s betrayal hurt more than he could admit, but the dog could not fully dismiss him. The fox saved his life by risking his own. He could not avoid that fact no matter what he said to Lam, or how he reasoned through it. Glaeddra was more painful. She was a complex knot of loss and relief at being away from her hateful eyes, and as she was also tied to Jeda, Ogre did not think long on her. The dog had two mountains of corpses growing behind him. One was small, barely a hillock, piled with companions that died because of his lack of strength. The other was larger by far, the dead, monster and beast, who sought to kill him. Thinking about the former made his chest ache. But the bathe was the place to think about such hard things. Just sitting there continued to unravel that pain and tightness, soothing his aches as he tried to think of a way to accept the path he walked. Ogre finished his soak and left with the two male otters, no one said anything until they were mostly dry, and dressed in the tunic they got from the World Tower.

When Ogre checked his status archaia, curious about how good he felt after the bath he saw that the status debuffs from drinking was gone. The dog filed that bit of information away in his head for latter. It is important to know different ways of getting rid of debilitation. He thought. The bathes were in a separate wing of the Adventurer’s Guild to the Main Building, where the Orientation Desk, Great Hall, and Newcomer’s temporary quarters were located. A long hall, twice the height of Orstrong, and thrice the width of a warrior boar connected baths to it. Ogre, Orda, and Xendaranan met Aida and Vedana in the hall, and as a group went over to Orstrong who waited where the hall adjoined the main building. In short order they stood before the Orientation Desk, where Ogre first met Bahbrah. Orstrong left them with a new sheep who stood at the same spot behind the counter as Bahbrah, introduced herself as Eweyen. With a small bow she explained that Bahbrah decided to do their orientation even though it was her time off. As they waited for her, Ogre spied Lam standing near the entrance of the lobby. His face was haggard, and he looked at Ogre with pleading eyes. The dog ignored him so studiously that the fox flinched. Some of the otters saw the exchange and gave both beasts strange looks before Aida spoke. “Did he betray you or us?”

“Me.” Ogre said, simply, as the fox slunk from through the guild door.