Eight Era, cycle 1721, season of Unkh day 181
The Armitage finally docked at Port Checkers twenty-eight days later with Ember on board, who was just about ready to hibernate for a year. She was bone tired from hauling heavy ropes for nearly ten hours a day, mentally exhausted from fighting against storms and recalcitrant sea monsters caught in the nets, and emotionally exhausted from the fatigue and nearly dying a dozen times. Although she had earned a new badge, and the captain had even been impressed enough to pay her for the work and promised to keep her existence a secret – as had the rest of the crew, who appreciated her hard work, willingness to muck in and put her neck on the line for the crew during the storms.
New badges awarded:
Blood sweat and tears 1, ↑ strength, 130 hours of hard labour
Blood sweat and tears 2, ↑ strength, 260 hours of hard labour; current hours 261
The town of Port Checkers was one of the largest towns Ember had visited; it was also one of the grubbiest. The pavements and the lower half of the buildings were all mud splattered; you could hardly walk thirty paces without coming across an ankle-deep muddy puddle; and the road was well churned from the carts, making crossing it a hazardous experience for those who wanted to keep both boots on their feet due to the sucking mud.
Throughout the town, brown and more brown were about the only two colours on display, and the smell was worse. There was a warehouse for the fish, and the smell of rotting fish and bird guano was acrid. Still, the red from the fish and the white from the guano added some much needed colour to the whole affair.
After disembarking, Ember strode into a tavern with the rest of the crew, ordered and downed two fingers of whisky immediately, and then a refill, which she dropped an ice shard into, with an ale chaser.
‘Got any rooms for rent?’ Ember asked.
‘Most of them,’ replied the landlord.
‘Got any with baths?’
‘A few.’
‘Got any spare girls to wash me?’
‘I can arrange that.’
Ember paid and got another refill before joining the crew at a large table.
‘Well, boys, I can’t say an anal gangbang would have been any worse than that, but it was nice meeting you all at least,’ she declared.
The crew laughed and raised their drinks.
‘You’re a hard worker, despite how you talk,’ Banner said, shaking her hand.
‘I think this is the longest I’ve gone without getting laid since I started bleeding,’ Ember said getting up at a signal from the barman. ‘I’ve got to love you and leave you, boys, as it looks like my bath’s ready. Gentler hands and rosier cheeks await.’
*
That bath might have been the single greatest moment of Ember’s life up until that point. The hot, soapy water and strong massaging of the girl treated knots in Ember’s body and relaxed her muscles to the point where she struggled to get out of the bath; she flopped onto the bed, passing out a moment later. When she came to, she found she hadn’t been robbed, which must have meant it was a classy establishment indeed.
Ember made it downstairs and asked for breakfast. The barman left and returned with a plate holding a double-fist-sized roll, a hunk of cheese, a slab of butter and something that was possibly pork, which had stringy, white fat covering one side and crusty salt on the other. Still, she was hungry, and it wasn’t badly cooked, so she ate it without complaining, plus it only cost twenty bronze.
‘Do you get much traffic in this town?’ she asked as she ate the last of the pork.
‘Sure, this is a market town – fish mostly, but we get other stuff too occasionally.’ This barman was far chattier than the last. She’d met rocks with more personality than the last guy.
‘You know of anyone leaving today?’ Ember queried, wiping her arm over her lips.
‘Let’s see. There’s a wagon going to Old McDermit’s farm, and there’s the stagecoach going to Linestra about three times a day. There’s a load of people heading to the festival in Red Pillar. I think I heard someone was hiring a heavy mob to head into Chamber’s Forge, so if you’re wanting to make money, there’s that. There’re always ships heading out, of course; oh, and some dwarfs are heading to the Reluctant Gate – that’s a mountain range over to the south.’
‘Good to know,’ Ember replied, nodding and holding out her glass for a refill on juice – it was possibly potato juice for all the taste it had.
There were a few options then; the most appealing of which was the group heading to Red Pillar, as Red Pillar was a busy city at the best of times and it would be heaving during a festival. Plus, a big group of people would be easy to get lost in, but anyone looking for her would know that also.
A farm would be pointless; she could take a job as a farmhand, but, as soon as she skipped out, it would be noticed. And Linestra was little more than a bed stop, and she’d be stuck on a road to Blurstone, which was the only real destination on that road.
Chamber’s Forge was the most appealing option; that would be a new contract, and people were disappearing on quest constantly, when it turned out they were in over their head, which is why she joined the group heading to Red Pillar. Chamber’s Forge was the obvious best choice – it was too obvious.
‘Congratulations on the breakfast; I’ve had worse drinks, but not many,’ Ember said as she dropped some coppers on the table.
*
The party heading to Red Pillar was large, with twenty or more people all told, and Ember was able to slip into the group easily and hide as just another face in the crowd. She bought supplies, but nothing excessive, so as not to draw attention to herself; she slept in the middle of the group when they camped and shared a room when they stayed at an inn. After the seventh night, Ember went out to hunt for her dinner and never returned. Instead, she moved through the woodlands, heading largely south-west.
The path wasn’t challenging, and her horse was happy enough to plod through the tangles. It was dry and cold in the shade of the trees, but pleasant whenever the sun penetrated through them, and Ember rolled her shoulders and relaxed a little.
On the third day, she found the traces of a camp, though it was an odd camp as there were piles of leaves scattered around a pile of cold ash, which presumably was the fire. It was a rather small fire at that, made for light more than heat, Ember assumed, and there was a smelly area close by that must have been the spot for night soil.
There were the remnants of a meal, and people’s clothes had been set out and undisturbed; it appeared to be the work of pixies, except there weren’t any empty jugs. Still, the prospect of pixies wasn’t worth the risk, and so Ember got back on her horse, set off, and didn’t stop moving until way into the night when the abandoned camp was far behind her. Everyone knew that to sleep near the presence of pixies was to risking crossing into their realm, and although escape was more likely since the elves had been locked away, it was still disconcerting to return to the world decades after leaving it, having spent only a couple of nights in the pixie world.
The next day, Ember was taking a break by a stream, drinking and refilling her water skin, and watching a nearby tree absently. The trunk had grown horizontal for a yard or two before growing upwards as normal and spreading out rather quickly into a cascade of pink and orange leaves. As her eyes wandered around unfocused, the tree looked a little like a resting deer, if the horizontal trunk was its body, the short vertical trunk was its neck and head, and the branches were antlers. Ember laughed; it would be a massive deer, and one that had leaves? That was a preposterous notion. The serenity of the last few days was letting her eyes wander.
Slowly, the tree/deer stood and stretched before padding off into the forest; Ember’s smile froze on her face.
But the serenity wasn’t to last. A little while later, as Ember was foraging near a large fern for apricot nettle root (which is like a carrot, only with a sweet, apricot-like skin, and the plant was a large thistle), she heard a commotion, and spotted a hedge rustling and berries flying out at random. Frowning, she edged closer before remembering the campsite and, suddenly, she froze. Ember was just about to hightail it out of there when a greyish blur flew out of the bush and whacked into a tree some distance away. Ember turned and used her magicka to identify it.
Race: gremlin
Genus: ogreoid
Class: D
Often called a common troll, not due to any resemblance to trolls but because village folk often mistakenly believe them to be baby trolls. Gremlins might not be evil, but it isn’t for the lack of trying. They rejoice in causing havoc, and their burrows tend to be full of treasures and precious possessions stolen from others.
Affiliation: Loki
Harvestable items: none
State: dazed
Level: 15
Health unknown, stamina unknown, magicka unknown
Gremlins! That would explain the lack of empty bottles at the camp, as gremlins liked a drink, but she’d never dealt with gremlins before, only pixies, so her mind didn’t make the connection.
‘Human!’ a voice cried, stressing the “u” in ‘human’.
‘Ah shit,’ Ember muttered under her breath.
There was growling from the bush, and tiny heads popped out. The gremlins were around 2 foot tall, with scraggy hair and an assortment of odd clothing. They were grey and covered in mud stains, which might account for the mistaken identity as troll cubs, but that was about the only resemblance, as they had wide heads and they weren’t bulky enough to be small trolls.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
‘We eat humans!’ declared the gremlin.
‘No, you don’t; you’re pests and are devils for sugar, but aren’t carnivores. Unless the meat is cooked in honey,’ Ember said, holding out her arms carefully away from her body, but not dropping her weapons as the gremlins would then strike.
‘We’ll peel the flesh from your skin and use your eyes for footballs!’
‘No, you’re aggressive, but you lie all the time. Everyone knows not to trust a gremlin.’
‘Then don’t go over to that yew; it doesn’t have treasure buried beneath it.’
‘It’s probably where you all go to crap,’ Ember stated, eyeing the location.
‘What do you want, human?’
‘I want to pass through without having all my possessions stolen and being tied naked to a tree.’
‘Give us all your silver, and we’ll think about it.’
‘Not going to happen,’ Ember said, shaking her head.
‘You want to fight and end up dead?’
‘Could be, could be. But which of you wants to be the brave sod who moves first and ends up dead? I don’t know how many of the rest of you will survive, but I can promise you that that first gremlin will die.’ Ember made eye contact with a few gremlins as if asking, ‘Will it be you, or you, or you?’
‘This is our place.’
Ember reached into a pocket, which bulged suddenly, and then she withdrew a clear object in the shape of a teardrop. ‘This is a crystallised giant’s tear. Those who are worthy may have a wish fulfilled,’ Ember announced, holding it carefully.
‘Then why haven’t you used it?’
‘Me? Well, I’m not worthy,’ Ember said modestly. ‘I offer this for safe passage.’
‘Agreed; someone take it!’ The voice was too keen, and Ember licked her lips as a gremlin took it and scurried off.
New badge awarded: it’s kind of a funny story 1
↑ charm, persuade 10 hostiles to your point of view, current total 10.
Huh, he was the tenth person I’ve persuaded, Ember thought, reading the description of the badge. Without waiting, Ember moved slowly past the gremlins, but before she was out of earshot she heard the conversation.
‘Wait, this is melting,’ said the first gremlin.
‘She tricked us!’ exclaimed another.
‘Kill her!’ declared a third.
Ember bolted and mounted her horse; gremlins were meant to be pack hunters, which made them difficult to take on in a group, even if you were nearly twice their levels. Levels on the Sphere didn’t guarantee the result of a fight, especially if you let someone get behind you, and there were a gang of angry gremlins behind Ember.
A spear whistled past Ember’s head; she turned and spotted the gremlins, who were nearly keeping pace with her. Some had spears clutched in their hands, others had what looked like slings and yet others had daggers, which looked like swords compared to the small gremlins.
Ember kicked her heels into the horse’s flanks as a second and third spear flashed passed. The horse took off. She looked over her shoulder and cursed as she noticed that the gremlins were nearly keeping pace with the horse, but also that they seemed to find the pace comfortable.
The path before her split, with jutting rocks and overgrowth creating three paths. The gremlins javelins seemed to shepherd Ember down the middle path, which started to descend and turned into a narrow gully.
The elevation gave the gremlins a clear advantage, and Ember felt a sudden explosion of pain, which nearly knocked Ember from her seat, and she clamp a hand to the side of her head, feeling hot, sticky warmth.
Ember spotted a perilous-looking tree holding onto a side of the gully with dishevelled roots, and she cast an ice dagger and lashed out at the tree roots.
The tree toppled sideways as its purchase on the mud was cut away and, as it fell, it took a few gremlins with it, or at least that was the plan – in actuality, the tree didn’t even flinch.
The horse tossed its head and snorted; Ember checked its stamina level and found that it was nearly depleted. She stood in the stirrups and looked around, nothing appeared to her that gave her any hope of escape, but she did notice that the side of the gully fell away to the left.
The possibility of escape teased and tantalised her.
The path curved to the right, the left verge ended suddenly, and the right verge seemed to grow upwards into the heavens. Ember looked to the left, and saw that the ground disappeared and was replaced by a narrow, steady river.
The gremlins all leaped to the cliff face to the right, their stamina seemingly greater than the horse’s, and her path was becoming treacherous.
She stood in the stirrups once more, looking around for escape, but nothing offered itself. She looked down at the river once more, guessing the distance to it; it wasn’t too far, but jumping into water from too high was just as deadly as jumping onto solid ground. With one final fleeting look back, she stood in the stirrups and leaped from the horse.
The distance to the river wasn’t far, but she landed with great force, and the water felt like a whole body punch. She became confused and dazed, she’d lost her orientation, and, suddenly, her lungs were burning for air. She kicked out desperately, opening her eyes despite the pain, and headed towards the first light she sore.
With a vigorous, if ungraceful, swimming style, she burst from the water and sucked in great lungfuls of air; she spotted the gremlins cursing her from the cliff – they were unwilling to enter the water. One of them threw its spear, and Ember once more ducked under the water and this time swam for shore, which – thankfully – wasn’t far. As her feet touched the first bit of land that was dry, her body took it as a signal and collapsed.
Ember spotted a plant with large purple-and-white petals. There was a thing – the doctrine of medicines, or was it nomenclate determination – where a plant’s name or shape was an indication of its use. The white parts of the plant’s petals looked like teeth, and Ember thought she knew enough about horticulture to recognise it as maiden’s kiss. She dug up the roots and peeled them with her knife before cutting off a chunk and chewing. It tasted like aniseed and made her mouth tingle. After a good chew, she spat the remains out and bit off another chunk, repeating the process until her spit was white, and she felt better for having given her teeth a good clean.
After an indeterminable period, Ember noticed that the forest seemed quieter than usual, so she paused and stood for a while, listening. At the edge of her hearing, she thought she determined a strange noise, but was unable to pinpoint its direction. So Ember moved around, paused and listened, moved around, paused and listened, until she felt she was heading in the right direction. Soon the sound intensified to the point where it was a constant background drone, and then became a loud buzz, like she’d wandered into a beehive.
Ember ducked through an arch of ivy and staggered to a halt. The land before her was a writhing mass of black, which covered the ground like a carpet, and behind it was a parched and desolate landscape devoid of anything other than mud, rocks and the occasional half-gnawed tree stump.
‘Locusts!’ Ember cried; her heart went cold, and her stomach clenched.
Race: grey locust
Genus: orthoptera
Class: U
The grey locust is a pest to farmers and horticulturalists, but since you are neither, who cares
Affiliation: Pan
Harvestable items: wings
State: too simple to have one
Level: 1
Bestiary increased
Ember frowned as a second description appeared, not around any one locust but around the swarm, so that all of the locust were covered in a pinkish outline.
Race: grey locust swarm
Genus: orthoptera
Class: A
Run! A swarm of grey locust will eat everything and everything, including you, girl!
Affiliation: Pan
Harvestable items: wings
State: hungry
Level: n/a
Bestiary increased
New quest: The swarm
You have discovered a swarm of locusts; if left alone, they will eat everything and cause irrevocable damage to the ecosystem, potentially destroying the forest entirely. Many a desert was formed by a swarm of locusts.
Destroy the swarm and save the forest from destruction.
Rewards: experience points and an environmental boost
On the other hand…
The Garden of Eight Surprises was said to have grown after the woods of Arcan had been decimated by a swarm of some kind, and it grew back more beautiful than before, becoming one of the wonders of the natural world. So every cloud has a silver lining and all that…
Rewards: well, you’ll be alive, and, really, is it your place to interfere with nature?
Ember looked around; the swarm was huge and covered the ground as far as she could see.
Biting her lip, she weighed up her choices. It wasn’t really her fight, she had no stakes in the outcome, and trying to stop it could get her killed. She was an assassin, not a common adventurer prone to selling herself for a few experience points; she normally charged gold for that privilege.
Yet, with an unchecked swarm on the loose, could she walk away in good conscience?
She’d tell someone; that’s what she’d do. She’d make it somebody else’s problem – the three sweetest words.
Ember looked around. Where would the nearest village be? She was aiming for the old Saint Deulofeu road, and, by her estimate, she was still a day away and needed to get through the swarm to get to it.
Ember rummaged in her bag, pulled out a full-length waxed coat, wrapped it around herself as tight as she could, lowered her head and charged through the swarm. It sounded like a hailstorm was battering about her. She felt pain in her leg, and her battle log informed her she had been being bitten by the locusts, losing 1 life point for each bite. Gaps in her coat formed quickly, and the amount of bites she was suffering from increased.
An ugly pincer head appeared before Ember’s right eye as a locust ate through the coat right in front of her eyeball. She closed it tightly, willing the thing not to bite at her eyelid. Pain shot through her eye, and she flailed blindly, knocking the locust away and spinning around to look for the offending thing, then she was terrified suddenly that she was in the midst of the swarm. She wasn’t; she’d passed through, and the locust had gone and was possibly dead. She slapped away at the remaining locusts and checked her coat. It was useless, but she repacked it in case someone would pay her some coppers for it. There was always someone needier than you.
After half a day’s walking, she reached a road, either she was a day faster than she was expecting or she was lost. Looking up and down the road, Ember chose a direction at random and set out.
After a few more hours walking, she spotted a milestone and read it: ‘Lemuel, 216 miles’. Ember normally walked at around 3 miles an hour, so that would take…
Three days?
Ember then spotted another milestone on the opposite side of the road; on walking around it, she read the label: ‘Horseshoe, 72 miles’ or roughly a day’s walk. But she’d heard of Horseshoe and had never heard of Lemuel. Horseshoe was a small village, so Lemuel must be smaller than that if she couldn’t remember it. So Horseshoe it was! She turned around and walked back the way she’d come.