A mob of angry Irish folk gather at the foot of Lord Cathal’s hall, held off by a trio of nervous guards. They aren’t quite at the torches and pitchfork phase, but it’s getting close. Beneath the overcast afternoon sky, dozens of men and women shout and jeer, demanding that the lord release their children.

What strikes me though isn’t the size of the crowd or the chaos of the town square; I’ve seen unrulier mobs at a soccer match. It’s that, before now, I didn’t quite realize how many medieval people don’t wear pants. They’re all just in tunics and long, raw cotton shifts. No wonder that tailor was so bewildered by Elias’ request.

“Helen!” barks Elias.

“Huh? What?”

“How do you want to proceed?”

“Oh. Well. Technically we don’t need to face Lord Cathal. The guy is still ten levels above all of us. My vote is we just go for the necromancer. Though maybe we should try to score some supplies first.”

“I totally wanna teach that rich a-hole a lesson,” Luci interjects. “But I’m kinda anxious to get going too.”

“Then we’re agreed. Chispita, do you-”

“Senan!”

A woman, frumpy with frizzy fire-red hair, bursts from the crowd, then immediately collapses to her knees, wailing.

“Mother!” The boy dashes across the square and into her arms.

Uh oh.

The mob unravels. The front lines retain their positions, fists raised, while those witnessing the reunion between the frazzled mother and her son slowly realize that the weirdo strangers over there might have answers.

It starts as a trickle, just a few pantsless Irish stumbling our way, but it quickly thunders into a storm. “Where are my-” “Who did-” “Have you seen-” “Why-” Strained faces, pushing, jostling, swearing. And all I’m seeing is the definitive titles hovering over their heads: mostly Level 1s and 2s, but a surprisingly fair number of higher levels, all the way up to 15.

It’s getting hairy, is all I’m saying. I’m not going to murder an entire town of grieving parents. That would be bad form.

Finally, Éogan appears on Ron’s shoulders. “Your children are gone!” he screams. He juts a finger at the stone hall. “Cathal fed us to the fair folk! We demand justice!”

The murmur turns into a roar. And just like that, the mob turns again. The tornado spins toward the hall, whipping the crowd into a frenzy, and tearing through the guards. Before long, the doors open as the furious mass pours inside. Within moments, we’re the only souls left in the square.

Éogan climbs off of Ron’s shoulders. “Supplies are free now.”

I scratch my cheek. “Well, that’s not exactly-”

“Oo, I need more arrows!” shouts Luci as she takes off. A shop with a previously occupied forge and anvil await.

Quest Updated!

INNOCENCE LOST: Complete

Afric has been wrested from the grips of the Sidhe and returned safely to Glasbaile.

Rewards: 100xp, 250g

“Oh. Um, I guess that’s it then,” I say.

Éogan smirks. “‘Spose we won’t see you ‘round.” He whacks Ron on the arm and gives Elias a sharp nod. “Time to crack on. Fair luck to you. Let’s go, Afric.”

Tucking his head into the hood of his mantle, he waves at his sister and saunters down an alley. Before tailing after him, Afric dumps something slimy into my hand.

“Give this to Luci for me, will you?” In a low whisper, she adds, “I didn’t let it go.”

Then she too runs off, and I’m left with my hands full of frog.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this.”

Our next self-prescribed quest begins awkwardly. I’ve never stolen anything. Never even shoplifted, despite it being a pretty average pastime for city girls like me. It wasn’t necessarily the fear of getting caught - though I always had ambitions that made it particularly risky. I’ve just never been a rule-breaker. Even post-Ethan, when I couldn’t possibly care less, I still felt acutely aware of the rules.

In fact, maybe it was my adherence to the rules that made my downfall so difficult to overcome. I wanted to do things right, and if I couldn’t do them right, then it was better to wallow in sadness on my sofa instead.

So now with fake shops and fake people and consequences I can simply quash with fake murder, it’s easier, but it still doesn’t feel right. Not at first anyhow.

After the entire group gets a slight headstart on me, I join in. Of course, I do it like a gamer, meaning I stuff everything possible into my inventory. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say. There’s no weight limit. It just has to fit into the system.

Even though I don’t need to employ my Sleight of Hand, I feel it at work anyhow. As it turns out, you can’t just touch an object in order to suck it into your inventory. You have to actually pick it up and hold it for a few seconds. My dextrous thieving skill allows me to whisk away items in a way that even I can barely see what I’m doing. Accessories simply disappear into my palms. Weapons slip behind my back, out of sight. And sometimes they vanish down my shirt because yoga pants don’t have pockets and sports bras do, so long as you’re the adventurous type.

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Ultimately, the blacksmith’s isn’t as weapon-heavy as one would hope. There’s no armor either. It’s mostly nails, chains, some plows-in-progress, and cookware. Plus the weapons are all common graded. Still, we grab a few swords - likely constructed for Cathal’s guards - and some darts, which a trivia pop-up assures me are not javelins, though it doesn’t exactly elaborate.

We also empty a rack of concave shields. The ‘targe’, as they call it, is about a foot and a half across, mostly wood, and wrapped in bands of iron. While I don’t have the strength to wield it effectively, nor is it appropriate for my class, it seems handy to keep around.

Finally, there’s a bucket full of rings that we divvy out. They each give +1 to a random stat, so we all come out of there looking a little Criss Angel-y. Luci also collects a bundle of barbed arrows.

Inventory items added: (1) Common Sword, (2) Common Darts, (1) Common Reinforced Targe, (3) Common Iron Rings

After clearing the blacksmith’s workshop, I’m ready to admit that nicking shit is quite the adrenaline rush. And what better opportunity is there for loot than a deserted town?

We all handle the task a little differently. I snowball into my pilfering, transitioning from shamefully lifting an item here and there to sweeping up loot like a vacuum. Luci views without touching, then delicately chooses gear with the deliberate grace of a dancer. Ron bumbles about, hoisting various weapons and items into his inventory when we remind him, but mostly he just keeps forgetting the mission at hand. And Elias steals like a pro. He’s focused, one eye on the door, one eye on the prize. No useless perusals. No hesitation.

We stop by the tanner’s next, except it turns out they only supply raw leather. And damn, does it stink. A few doors down sits the leatherworker.

The haul here is a little better. Luci grabs a satchel, solely for the purpose of storing her new frog. And I grab a satchel, solely for the purpose of storing food. We also score a few waterskins. Then we ransack the place. I’m desperate to try out my new gear, but if by chance the mob returns, it won’t be a great look for us.

Inventory items added: (3) Common Leather Belts, (2) Common Leather Greaves, (1) Common Leather Bracer, (1) Common Leather Breastplate

Then we drop by the apothecary, realize there’s still a shopkeeper attending, and smoothly act like we intended to browse there all along. As far as draughts go, he only sells health and stamina bottles, as well as a few expensive potions to temporarily improve extremely specific non-combat skills like herding and horsemanship.

We each buy three of the health and stamina draughts, cleaning the guy out of ‘em. I also convince the group to blow a few gips on hiking draughts. Seems worth it to get to the necromancer quickly.

Inventory items added: (3) Lesser Health Draughts, (3) Lesser Stamina Draughts, (2) Improved Hiking

Inventory item removed: 220g

Wallet: 2796g

To top off our town-wide burglary, we drop by a vacant roper’s shop and grab 20 feet of rope which Ron slings over his shoulders like a Miss America sash, giving him an aesthetic I can only describe as a medieval mountaineering metal rocker plus harpist. I don’t know if we’ll need rope or why we’d need rope, but it feels like something an adventurer ought to have.

Then we get ourselves a lantern and a pile of tallow candles. These, we purchase. Apparently the chandler’s too busy making candles to worry about Lord Cathal and is very insistent that we know about this.

Afterwards, I remember to snag a map from some novelty market stall. Don’t ever let anyone tell you I don’t take advice from random Irish drunkards. Meanwhile, Elias heads back to the blacksmith’s for striking flint and steel while Ron and Luci raid a food stall - though this particular heist ends up a rather close call.

As quickly as it vanished, the mob reappears, dragging a pulpy red carpet into the square. Except it’s not so much of a carpet as it is Lord Cathal. A very dead Lord Cathal.

He didn’t go down without a fight, it seems. The crowd has thinned. Certainly fewer Level 1s around, though more than I anticipated. Maybe the fairies stripped him of his magic as an additional ‘fuck you’.

I wonder if he tried to tell the villagers that he only made a faustian bargain to protect them. I wonder if he told them that this was all a waste; that the now-lethal fog is going to consume the entire isle. In fact, I wonder if every region we visit ends up with the local populace getting fucked.

It’d be nice to know we could reverse it. Sadly, I don’t think killing Sorcerer Laserian will destroy the fog. The isle has always been fated to decay.

Ugh. The villagers are stringing Cathal up against the taskboard now. It’s a difficult job given what’s left of him.

Luci’s eyes widen. “I think it’s time to go…”

“Oh, definitely.”

Rather than leaving the way we came, we just pick a street and scoot. Down the road, past rows and rows of timber-framed houses. Eventually, the cobblestone snags against tufts of grass, and the town simply falls away behind us. Just like that, Glasbaile and all of its residents are gone.

As promised, it appears that the town has moved to the northwestern edge of the isle, though we’re too far inland to see the ocean. We emerge on a stark clump of hills overlooking a forested valley.

Below, the river we previously crossed continues to snake across the isle, only this portion is wide and churning. Frothing like a rabid mouth, it spills over rocks and dashes against the sides in furious crashes.

“Alriiiiight. More hiking. Woo,” Luci dryly cheers. “So which way?”

With a flap, I lay out the map. The art is rather cute. It’s half-isometric, half-2D, with little outlined trees and clouds with faces blowing gusts of wind. It depicts the hills, the river, the waterfall, the tower - all as Lord Cathal said.

There are another few landmarks too: abandoned farmsteads, an unholy battlefield - complete with a sketch of an adorable wide-eyed banshee-, a dungeon called ‘The Crypt of the Oilliphéist,’ some ruins of an old fort, and countless fairy mounds with strict warnings to avoid at all costs.

“Down to the river and then east,” I answer. “Map makes it seem maybe twenty miles. We could be there tomorrow?”

“Sure. Which way’s east?”

I look up. It’s about noon, and the sun is shyly cowering behind the clouds anyhow, so I have no idea which way we’re facing.

Simultaneously, we all look at Elias.

He sighs. Saying nothing, he confidently walks away. East, I’m guessing. Together, we follow him into the forest below.

The trees, thin at first, quickly grow into a thick canopy above, casting dappled shadows on the ground. It’s warmer on this side of the isle. Less wind, less moisture. The earthy scent of pine and soil fills the air.

The hills close in around us, hugging the winding trail. Though spotted with rocks and roots, the path is an easy, downhill hike. We make quick work of the descent. After half an hour, we reach the rapids.