Chapter Forty: Hangover
Tom had no trouble finding Val again. Between using his new sense and following the direction provided by his bond with Sesame, he caught up to them quickly.
When he stumbled out of the trees in the early afternoon, Val quirked a quizzical eyebrow at him. Sesame gave a worried little roar, sending him rapid queries through the bond now that they were close enough. Apparently he’d felt all sorts of vague, bizarre sensations through it all night.
“Find anything nice, Tom?” Val asked, raking a critical eye over his dishevelled appearance.
He produced the black, oily looking essence, and handed it to her. She looked it over for a moment, then back to his scarecrow visage, his red-rimmed eyes squinting against the mild afternoon light.
And she burst out laughing.
She laughed for hours. Every time she was about to trail off, she would look at Tom, and find his withering glare upon her, and it would set her off again. He was certainly in no fit state to interrupt. Eventually, she stopped, and only then when he thought she physically couldn’t laugh any longer, even with her Idealist-enhanced endurance.
“I bet you had a real fun night,” she told him, still chuckling. “How’s your head?”
“It’s not too bad,” he replied, “I just didn’t sleep. And I feel…”
“Fragile?” she answered for him.
“Yeah, I guess,” Tom acceded. “How did you know? Have you touched one of those frogs before too?”
That set Val laughing again. “No, not me. Never seen one myself. But I’ve heard a few stories.” her face turned serious. “You’re lucky you didn’t die. I’ve heard the journey it sends you on lasts half a day.”
Tom’s thoughts went back to the big, drugged up cat he’d found next to him when he’d woken. She had no idea just how lucky he had been, and he had no intention of telling her. If he was extremely lucky, he’d come away with only a scolding for his negligence.
The trip the frog poison had sent him on had really highlighted for him the limitations of Sweet Suffering.
Everyone, regardless of whether or not they were an Idealist, lived in The World, and under The World’s rules. It had been the subject of heated, passionate debate for as long as anyone could remember. Wisps were supposedly here to help those who had developed a sufficient understanding of The World to delve deeper into its meanings, and to simultaneously help The World understand us.
If that was true, then there was a lot lost in translation. What The World deemed to be a poison, or a debuff, for example, could be arbitrary in the extreme. The frog poison obviously didn’t meet the threshold.
That could be because it didn’t have any ‘negative’ effects, or because it didn’t meet some hidden threshold cached within the inner workings of his skill, or any number of reasons. Tom also recalled that one of Val’s skills, Love You to Death, had its effect classed as a buff, even though it was purely negative.
He resolved to be more mindful of it in the future. He had been chugging the poisons Harvey had given him like water, while Val had been training him. Any one of them could have suddenly killed him.
Tom made a mental note to be more careful when testing them. If one of them actually poisoned him, then he could always recover using another potion he knew worked as intended with his skill. He would have to report all this to Harvey, next he saw him. He mentally set aside an entire one of the next seven days he would get to spend in the city to spend with the funny little man.
“Eyes up, Tom. Just because you’ve got a hangover, doesn’t mean you can slack off,” Val admonished him.
He immediately returned to scanning the trees. To be fair to himself, he already had been with Hunter-Gatherer. He scolded himself for that too. It was too easy to fall into the habit of relying overly much on passive skills, and every one that he had still had limitations. He refused to let his discipline lapse overly much.
“At least I got its essence stone,” Tom said, after a few minutes of silence. “They’ve got to be worth a bit, right? I can’t imagine those frogs are very common.”
Val snorted. “If you found someone willing to buy it, maybe. If you did, though, you could buy a golden house. There’s a reason Thought-Painting Frogs are so rare. Forty years back, give or take, the gangs in Wayrest cottoned on to them. Every Reaping they’d head out and hunt them specifically. Paid huge bounties for their essences, so that villagers would risk their lives trying to get them too. Eventually, the Council banned them outright. Too many people getting killed. No use for it now, not unless you want another trip.” She tossed the stone back to him, giving him a wry smile.
Tom had never done drugs before in his life. There were myriad ways to get high in Wayrest, but he’d never had the time to indulge in such things. He wasn’t necessarily opposed to them, not on principle. It was a shitty world they lived in, and he didn’t begrude people their escapes. Having said that, even though the place he’d gone to with the frog poison had been somewhat enlightening, even though it had unravelled some small knots in himself he didn’t know existed, he didn’t feel any need to do it again.
For starters, he’d almost died for his lack of vigilance. And today, beyond being tired from not sleeping, he felt …out of sorts. Like the poison had permanently altered his perception, twisting and poking little pieces of his consciousness until it was a slightly different shape, and now that it had been dropped back into his body, it felt like it didn’t quite fit the same.
At the same time, he was not overly worried by the feeling. A profound sense of everything being alright, of The World, and Goddess, approving of him and his path, had filled him last night. The residue of that feeling was a balm on his soul.
~~~~~
They made good time over the rest of the fortnight, and had no more incidents of note. A handful of times, they had to defend themselves from some creature or other, and Val always left it to Tom.
He felt naked, fighting without Sesame’s help, but the big bear was too busy pulling the travois to fight. Tom still fought the attacks off with ease.
Wild Strike proved very useful, both for striking at fleeing monsters, and pushing away those that got close. It felt a little extravagant, using so much mana, but Tom didn’t have many skills to spend it on, with his skillset so skewed into passives. Any creature that had no abilities, and therefore didn’t require a use of Hush, was especially vulnerable to getting bullied about by Wild Strike.
His aura, while not necessarily the most useful in the few, unexciting fights, was by far and away Tom’s favourite skill. Any small wounds he took were healed up, even as it slowly ground his enemies’ health down. The longer any fights went, the slower his enemies got. And any creatures with abilities used up their mana pools just a little bit faster.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Separately, each of the effects were trivial. Together, they formed something truly formidable. It felt like exactly what he had been missing: a skill that punished enemies harshly for drawn out battles. It was the cornerstone of his style. Tom was almost disappointed when they finally broke the treeline late one morning, and made their way down the path to Corin’s Grove.
It was almost exactly a month after their last visit, now fully into winter, and the path had been turned muddy. As they strolled towards the village centre, a few curious workers spied them in the fields and took off running. Tom was confused, until he realised that he hadn’t subsumed Sesame, this time.
They neared the end of the path, walking out from between neat rows of apple and peach trees, their naked branches stark against a gloomy sky.
The unit of Guards assigned to the village were waiting for them, tense and ready. The officer Val had spoken to last time they stopped in was front and centre of the group. He looked stern, but his face showed relief when he saw Val. Tom saw Rosa in the centre of the group, watching him curiously from hooded eyes.
“Ho!” Val called to them, “No need for alarm! Just me and Tom here for a stop.”
“Goddess, Val,” the officer said, gesturing for the unit to relax. “You put the shits up the poor villagers! Is that bear a familiar?”
“I almost wish it weren’t. That’d mean I’d learned how to train a beast to play mule for me, and wouldn’t that be nice?” Val said with one of her wry grins.
“It’s impressive either way, that’s for sure. Is it yours, lad?” he asked Tom.
Tom nodded his agreement. “You can have him if you want. Great for pulling travois, but you’ll need your whole paycheck to buy enough food for him.” He scratched Sesame behind the ear. The bear gave a pleased little roar.
“Mercy, I’ve a family to support!” the officer raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Got a load of drakebones for you, Dale,” Val said to the guard, with more than a touch of smugness.
“Goddess’ own tits! You killed the beast? And brought me back a gift too! I’ve a mind to take that great bear of yours for a celebration at Fen’s Hive!” Officer Dale exclaimed. Sesame let out a hopeful chuff.
“Let me tell you all about it,” Val told him. “Wouldn’t say no to a sit down and a cider though, if you’re willing. How about Tom takes the spoils to the hall? That horizoner lass can accompany him. Wouldn’t do to have the villagers panicking on account of that great lump he calls a familiar now, would it?”
“A fine idea.” The guard gave some brief orders to his unit, who split off to their usual duties. Val fell in step with Dale. “Now, was it a juvenile? And what attunement did…” They trailed off, walking towards the village centre.
Leaving Tom standing on the path, with Rosa staring at him. Sesame gave him a grin, his tongue lolling.
Rosa scrutinised him for a second longer, and then her face broke into a radiant smile. She charged at Sesame.
“He is sooo fucking cute!” she squealed. “Why didn’t you tell me? You have all the best fucking luck, Tom!”
She had Sesame in a sort of chokehold, scratching him behind one ear and under his chin at the same time. The bear’s eyes looked like they were about to roll into his head.
Traitor, Tom thought at him. Sesame paid him no mind though. Rosa was scratching his bib, her fingers digging deep into his thick fur, and that was clearly higher on the bear’s priority list.
“I didn’t want to scare the villagers last time, is all. No help for it now, though, I guess,” he explained, shrugging. Rosa didn’t even seem to have heard him, she was that focused on her work.
“Surely you’ve manifested a familiar too?” he asked.
She slowly stopped scratching Sesa. A good thing, too. He looked like he was about to roll over for tummy rubs, heedless of the chaos it would cause with the loaded travois.
“Yes, of course I have,” she said, drawing herself up haughtily. “I just haven’t met all the requirements yet. Mother won’t buy me them, says it will teach me responsibility to get them myself.”
Tom nodded his commiseration. They began to walk into the village centre. “What Ideal is it under? What do you have left to fill?”
“It’s from Smoke - my second skill. I already had the life essence, so that is done. And the fire was easy too.” A small flicker of flame formed around her hand as she rolled it casually to one side.
“I’m working on the smoke essence; I need a fucking lot. I’ll find enough on my own eventually, but it’s cheap enough to buy too. And then there’s the water essence, I have that. And the air, also. The last one is speed essence. Fucking speed. Each one, they cost at least three months wages! And I need five! It’s robbery!”
Tom listened to her rant. It was nice to simply be around someone. For all he felt comfortable out in the Deep, he knew he could never be completely without companionship, without civilisation.
For all that the prestige of her House, for all her smoky beauty, and impeccable mind, Rosa was not judgemental. Not even in the slightest, and he appreciated her greatly for it. And for all her mercurial nature, and foul-mouth, and baffling changes of tack, she was a friend, too. He made a mental note to see if Val had any speed essence in her chest. It was the least he could do.
They arrived at the village meeting hall, and soon were set to unloading the precious drake bones and hide with the excited proprietor. The Corin who currently ran the village even stopped by, staying for a brief chat with them, before heading off in search of Officer Dale and Val.
Soon, they had it all squared away neatly for transport back to Wayrest. Sesame groaned in relief as they finally dismantled the travois. Tom requested some storage with freshness enchantments on them, and when they were supplied, he transferred over the delicate drake heart, eyes, and venom sacs. The proprietor’s eye bulged at the sight. Drakes were rare enough that this was perhaps the only parts of them he would ever see. They would bring in a significant amount of coin for the village, enough for them to make very substantial improvements.
He saw Rosa glaring at him, but she waited until they were outside, heading back towards the baker’s where they had last grabbed lunch, before accosting him.
“A fucking spatial storage skill?! Are you fucking kidding me?!”
Tom shrugged helplessly. “It just kind of happened. It’s only part of a new sensory skill I got.”
She stared at him flatly. “Only a part of a skill. Just a little part, I’m thinking.”
She immediately launched into another tirade.
“Fucking spatial storage! You deserve to be exiled again, you fucking fuck! That luck is criminal,” she ranted, her hands flicking about angrily.
“Next thing you’ll be telling me you killed the drake! And I bet you’ve manifested your pinnacle now, too! Let me guess-” she paused theatrically, tapping a slender finger to her chin. “-it’s a domain pinnacle! No! A portal! It must be!”
“Only an aura, actually,” he confessed solemnly. “But I did kill the drake.”
Rosa stopped in the middle of the street, forcing him to stop as well. A couple of curious villagers paused to stare.
“Tom-fucking-Cutter, if you are lying to me…” she said, a dangerous note in her low voice.
“Not lying, just lucky,” he said with a shit-eating grin.
After Rosa had chased him around the square, trying to slap the grin off his face, they grabbed lunch from the bakery, and sat in the green under the trees again. They’d lost all their leaves now, and the grass had suffered under the rains, but it still made for a good enough spot for a break.
Rosa told him of life as Guard, of the skills she had manifested, and hoped to manifest. Tom told her of his pinnacle, and the drake. They both regaled each other with stories of minor fights against creatures of the Deep. Sesame lounged nearby, lapping at a little pot of honey from the baker, who had also been very taken with the big lovable lump.
If only he could package this day up, and bring it back to Val. This would surely qualify as nice.