“I haven’t even left your dad’s house, and this whole dimension is already awesome.” Omet nudged Horan as they entered Lamius’ indoor garden.
“Well, I’m glad you like it here.” Lamius stood to the side of the door and watched his visitors enter and look around. “I don’t get guests often save for the occasional monster pilgrim, but I still try to make my home look nice.”
Quet was the last one through. As she passed her host, she noticed his prosthetic arm and backpedalled to get a better look. “Oh, hel-lo. This is… very… thaumaturgically developed.” She held his arm up for closer inspection, which Lamius hesitantly allowed. “What are these… These are some really advanced animation and sustenance matrices, I should write these down. Do you really need healing magic this strong to keep going?”
Lamius chuckled. “Well, I couldn’t go very far without them when I first got here. They definitely help. Say, can I get you all something to drink while you tell me your fresh new set of woes?” He left when everyone nodded enthusiastically.
Quet took a seat in the middle of the garden. “Yo, Waia, can I borrow your phone? I need to take a picture of the cool guy’s arm.”
Waia handed her phone over. “Next time, bring your own.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Don’t ever call me that again.”
Horan looked down at his reflection in the fountain. “...Every time we come here, we have to leave as fast as we came, because we’re on our way to deal with our next crisis. This place is great, and that guy’s my last living relative, and we have maybe an hour before we’re on our way again. This sucks.”
Quet looked at Horan from her conversation with Waia. “...Well, I can maybe figure out how to do a legit portal once this blows over. You could visit more often once you’re staying with us. That deal’s still on, right, Mang?”
Mark folded his arms across his chest. “I’m not responding to you as long as you call me that.”
Horan nudged him. “Roll, with it, dude.”
Mark sighed. “Yeah, Quet, of course. It’s still a better alternative to staying out in the middle of nowhere while the world-ending threats keep getting worse and worse.”
“Alright, got it.” Quet looked behind her to see that Lamius had returned carefully holding a tray full of glasses. “Just making sure. Hey, welcome back, we were missing you.”
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Lamius handed out drinks and sat down. “So, Horan, mind introducing me to these three?”
“Yeah, sure.” Horan pointed to the appropriate subject. “We’ve got Quet and Omet, they’re siblings, and Waia. She doesn’t like looking the part, but she’s a Primus too…”
-
“...And then we got Quet to make a portal in a volcano, and that took us here because we have no idea what we’re doing.” Horan leaned back in his seat. “Can you make more of a plan out of that than us, or do we just keep winging it?”
Lamius steepled his fingers for a moment. “...Well, I never really go far from my home, so I haven’t even really heard of any of this before. But I know a guy. Or rather, I know a vague, nebulous demographic who might in theory know a guy.” He got up. “Come on, I think I might have a plan for you.”
Omet followed him. “Well, it’s something.”
Lamius continued once he knew everyone was behind him. “See, there really isn’t much besides me in this particular neck of the woods. However, I’m also in what you might call a ‘flyover region.’ Plenty of monsters stop off here to make a pit-stop on their way from Point A to Point B. So I purchased some kind of magic beacon and had it installed upstairs, I could show you if you want. In effect, I’ve turned my home into a lighthouse-truck stop hybrid. I used to get visitors stopping off here every week or so, but in the last couple of weeks, it’s definitely started to pick up. Monsters headed in one particular direction have been stopping off every couple days.”
“And where are they all going?” asked Horan.
Lamius shrugged. “I try not to pry, but I think it’s in the vague direction of that new-fangled glowing pillar. Maybe it’s wherever all those Primoi ended up, if you’re lucky. What I’m trying to suggest is that you could hitch a ride on the next group to pass through here. Shouldn’t be long, and it’s certainly safer than heading out on foot. That something you five think you’re up to?”
The group looked amongst themselves. “Not much in terms of alternatives,” agreed Quet.
Horan held up his hands. “Wait, so you knew that the Joeys down here had some kind of civilization down here? I-I thought this place was just a bunch of giant monsters swimming around in the fog, how long have people been stopping off here for?”
Lamius thought for a moment. “Well, I bought that beacon right around when I first saw people traveling around these parts, so… Two millennia? Two and a half? I think it was after that pillar showed up, at the very least.”
Quet raised her eyebrows. “Wow, they really make things to last down here.”
“And you never felt the need to mention that during our visits? Nobody up there knows about…” Horan paused for a moment. “Actually, they might, but I didn’t know about it.”
Lamius shrugged again. “Didn’t really come up. Would you have especially cared?”
“I… Yeah, no.”
Mark stepped forward. “So, Lamius, how long do we have to stay here? How long has it been since your last visit?”
Before Lamius could answer, a high-pitched hum echoed through the building, like alien whalesong. The noise was followed shortly by a faint rush of wind. Lamius grinned. “A couple days, I reckon.”