Sydney took her time making for the oasis. She found that even moving at a light jog, her Divine Brand made her markedly faster than she had been in the past. And while it would have been nice to cut loose and really test her new powers, it wouldn’t be practical to do so until she had some supplies on hand.

By the time she reached the halfway point, the overbearing high noon sun had become too much to ignore. Sweating and puffing, Sydney had removed her jacket and tied the sleeves around her waist.

She scanned the horizon for any signs of danger as she continued towards the oasis. The shimmering heat waves distorted her vision, making it difficult to see clearly in the distance.

Occasionally, a bird (or a creature that could pass for one) flitted above her head. No other wildlife appeared or drew near her.She reached the oasis at last and knelt beside the lapping shore. “Finally,” she huffed, scooping handfuls of water to her face and greedily slurping the glittering liquid. Perhaps not the most hygienic way to drink, but she was hardly in a position to be picky.

“You know we spirits often debate the merits and risks of giving each Chosen a starter pack of sorts for each Game,” Tulpa said, heedless of the heat as ever. “I’m an advocate, personally. But it’s not my place to question the Tuath Dé. And I suppose they want people to be acting resourceful right out of the gate.”

Somehow, it seemed unlikely to Sydney that it would be easy for some of them. She had her doubts Joshua was doing well right now, wherever he was.

She grunted and rose to her feet, spitting onto the dirt. “C’mon. Let’s get back to it.”

The two pressed on toward the rows of squat tin-rooved buildings, where the smells of diesel smoke and frying meat grew steadily thicker in the air. A sign greeted Sydney at the town’s entrance, written in a strange script that was unlike any alphabet she had ever seen before.

Yet, as she looked at it, the characters on the heavy wooden board began to morph and shift before her very eyes. Until, at last, the symbols had arranged themselves into English script.

‘Hakken’s Oasis.’

“W-whoa,” Sydney said. She blinked a few times, but the text on the board remained the same.

“As I said, you don’t need to worry about the language barrier too much. The Tuath Dé want things to be challenging, but having to learn an entire new language just to get by would be the kind of thing to just… bog the Game down. Too much extra effort, you know? So your Divine Brand has the means to automatically translate the local languages of this plane. And, fortunately, the locals will understand you in turn.”

Sydney’s eyes widened. “Handy.” And thank God for it too. Languages had been one of her worst subjects in school. Though math was still top dog when it came to her academic failings.She took a few steps into town, at which point she got her first look at some of said locals: Bipedal felines, seeming to reach just past Sydney’s waist in height, adorned in sandy white robes, or sensible grey coveralls.

Walking deeper into the town, many of the felines were quick to scurry inside and refused to meet Sydney’s gaze. A few watched her from the alleyways and retreated further into the darkness whenever her gaze swept their way.Shutters closed, and curtains were drawn, yet Sydney could still feel many pairs of eyes watching her from the windows. She tried to listen in on their chatter, and picked up very little from it. But one word gradually stood out above the others, repeated in almost every conversation she overheard.

“Qithari,” Sydney murmured.

“The Enpet term for ‘Chosen,’” Tulpa said without looking her way. “Ah, yes, Enpets are… these furry fellows. One of the many local species on Elmyria,” she added.

“Huh. Not exactly how I imagined meeting aliens. I woulda’ expected little grey dudes. But these are cute… too bad they won’t let me get close enough to pet ‘em.” She wasn’t a cat person, or a dog person. She’d pet any animal she could get within arm’s reach of.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

They walked down the central street of the town, allowing her to get a better feel for the local businesses. She spied potters, butchers, bakers, candlestick makers, and a few shops that sold different kinds of fried meat. Each one had a sign above the entryway, and her eyes automatically translated them after a few seconds spent checking them.

But what was most interesting to Sydney was one of the larger buildings. She stared at the sign as the letters configured themselves to read ‘Garage.’

She looked to the massive entryway and spied a massive industrial block of expertly sculpted machinery, eerily similar to a vehicle engine from Earth. “Might be able to get a car…” Sydney mumbled. It would certainly make the journey to the Adamantine Tower easier.

But she sure as shit wouldn’t get one for free.

“So the Enpets known about the Game, yeah?” she asked. Tulpa nodded. “And uh… what do they make of the Chosen? I can’t imagine they’re all that keen on their world being an elaborate game board.”

“Well, I can hardly guess the thoughts of every individual on this world. Some are not thrilled about it. Others worship the Chosen as demigods. Many are simply fearful and try to ignore the proceedings of the Game as much as possible,” the spirit explained.

It made sense, Sydney supposed. “Not good odds of being given a car for free then,” she mused.

Sighing, she turned in place and examined the other nearby buildings until her eyes came to rest on a saloon: A looming two storey structure forged from red bricks, and a sloping black tiled roof. Music wafted through the open windows, sonorous strings being plucked on an instrument akin to a guitar.

It may have been a movie cliche, but Sydney figured a saloon was as good a spot as any to get information. And maybe a bit of work.

The interior was dark and smoky, the Elpeth’s seated in clusters around a fleet of ankle-high tables ringed with cushions. Each table was topped by a sloping bottle-like apparatus, connected to miniature hoses that spewed coloured smoke. Hookahs, are machines similar in principle to them at least.

Those who weren’t stoned off their asses, rolling about and purring like a cat exposed to catnip, watched Sydney wearing through the haze as she approached the bar.

“Ah, hey. I was wondering if you could help me?”

The bartender, grey-furred and adorned in a neatly-tailored red robe, glanced up from the glass clutched between his (her?) paws. “A Qithari, in our humble town. I was little more than a kit the last time a Trial was ongoing.” The stranger spoke with a harsh, masculine edge to his tone, each word translating instantly into English as he spoke.

“Must’ve been a long time ago,” she mused.

“Mm. Not long enough, some would say. I am Esk. Welcome to our town. I cannot imagine you plan on staying here for long but please do not cause trouble for us while you are.”

She hastily raised her hands as a gesture of peace. “Hey I’m kind of a dumbass but I don’t intentionally cause trouble for innocent people.”

“Perhaps.” Esk sniffed. “But trouble often follows your kind, regardless of your intentions.”

"I just need a lil help, that's all. A waterskin and some food so I can get started on my journey. I'm even willing to do some work for you, if that's what it takes to compensate you," Sydney said.

Esk regarded her with his sharp golden eyes. "You seem an alright sort, all things considered. But there are folks who would think ill of me for aiding a Qithari in any capacity."

"You gonna let what other people think dictate your actions?" She folded her arms, glancing down at the shorter figure.

"Perhaps not. I can give you some aid if it gets you out of our town a little bit faster." He sighed and scanned the interior of the saloon. "I suppose you could-"

A noise like a mechanical roar screamed through the air, punctuated by the belching of pipes and the sound of gravel grinding under tires. Esk instantly grew tense, and even his most stupefied customers stood to attention as the roaring sound drew closer and closer by the second.

"Damnation, not now!" Esk hissed, his fur standing on edge. Even his tail had fluffed out until it looked nearly thrice as thick. He snapped his gaze toward Sydney and motioned to a door off to the side. "In there, now!"

Sydney gave him a puzzled look. "But-"

"You want supplies? Then don't do anything that would cause us trouble." The sound of snarling thunder grew closer and closer, and many of Esk's customers were scrambling to the windows for a better look. “Now… hurry, get moving, before anyone else sees you!”

Sydney started toward the door, but stole a glance to the window as she went. A trio of vehicles were pulling to a halt on the road outside, causing every Elpeth on the street to scramble into cover from them. The machines were vaguely similar to motorbikes, in that they were two-wheeled vehicles with a sloping seat and angled handlebars.

But the tires were massive, built for handling rough terrain, and each bike had a long and armoured front component with a spiked cow catcher. Each bike had a fleet of angular pipes at the rear, belching trails of black smoke. And, generally speaking, they were far larger and more armoured than any bike Sydney had seen in the past. These were machines built for combat, and enduring harsh conditions.

But, if she had one of her own, it would certainly be a boon for the Game. Better than hoofing it everywhere on her own two feet.

The riders weren't Elpeth, Sydney noted. They were tall and angular humanoids with deep purple skin, adorned in leathery armour. And each man, Sydney noted, carried some kind of heavy, bladed weapon. Their leering eyes and smug smirks made it clear exactly what kind of men they were.

"Punks out to cause trouble," Sydney murmured as she passed the doorway and drew a curtain to cover herself. Seemed Elmyria had the same kind of problems as Earth, just with a different coating of paint on them.

Tulpa hurried after her. "Kothiri. Another race native to Elmyria." Her ears flattened as she spoke, and her fur was standing on end from the mounting tension in the air. "And likely not here for anything pleasant."