On top of the rocky bluff overhanging the road, the campfire had died down to coals. Entrails considered gathering some dry wood from the edge of the forest to give the fire life again, but decided against it. He considered what he still had to do tonight and didn't want to take the chance of waking his newest companion.
Entrails glanced over at the boy, out cold on the sleeping mat a few feet away. In a way, Max almost reminded him of... No, Entrails thought, I was never that naïve. He couldn't help but shake his head at how quickly he'd gotten the kid to trust him. In Alethia, naivety always led to a quick death—you either lost it early or someone would take it from you soon enough. For the unlucky, that lesson was often fatal. This Max had much to learn.
He wondered if he was doing Max a disservice by offering to party up. In reality, partying up with strangers was a rarity. Every player worth their salt knew how dangerous it could be. Sure, being in a party prevented one from being robbed or having your throat slit in your sleep, but it didn't prevent a devious player from calling their true friends to track your movements and carry out an attack.
Was he setting up the kid for unreal expectations? Then again, the chances of Max surviving all the way to Tiann was zero to none. Not at his level. He'd make too easy of a meal for any number of the creatures and denizens haunting the Valterre. Bandits along the road would be more than happy to bash in his skull and take everything in his possession. If not bandits, then it'd likely be the sworn soldiers of one of these petty marcher lords, who'd have no problem forcing a lone, low-level player into indentured servitude.
Hell, even in the cities, things weren’t always easy for beginners. The largest, tier one cities, were kindest to low-levels, and most tier twos as well. They were designed to be that way. But even so, competition wasn’t confined to the wilds—it spilled everywhere, into the city streets, to the merchants and the many guilds headquartered there. In the cities, one learned to compete without the risk of death, for that was the essential lesson. In Alethia, you competed, or you wouldn’t last.
You didn't keep friends, you kept a list of people to party with. Entrails knew this as well as anyone. When a friend dies, you begin to rethink all your actions. It weighed you down like a sack of rocks, infected you like a disease. When a party member dies, however, it’s merely an... inconvenience. You can keep moving forward, steadily and unwavering to the one, ultimate goal that drives all who call themselves adventurers:
To ascend to the Sky Throne and become a living God.
Entrails frowned. The kid was becoming an inconvenience towards pursuit of that goal. The more he thought about it, the sooner he wanted to be rid of Max. Still, he couldn't just abandon him here; that would be as good as slitting his throat himself. Considering all the dangers that lay between here and Tiann, all the different ways the boy could perish or be re-enslaved... Hell, it might even be a kinder fate, thought Entrails. Maybe his contact in the Enclave would know what to do with him.
The big warrior produced a glass globe from his inventory, about the size of his hand, perfectly round and crystal clear. Firelight danced around its smooth, spherical edges. Entrails got up slowly, tiptoed over and checked Max’s breathing. No doubt about it, the boy was asleep. Now assured, Entrails walked to the edge of of where the firelight reached, about 15 feet away. There, he held out the globe with his hand outstretched and pointed upwards. Then he spoke a name.
He dropped his hand, then—but as soon as the name fell from his lips, the globe began to hover in the air, still as a stone. A glow filled the glass orb, beginning as a dot in the center and then growing in intensity, until its pale yellow light radiated. It glanced off the hard planes of Entrails’ face, almost ghostly in the dark night.
Soon, a face appeared in the globe, shadowed by a large cowl pulled over his head, obscuring his eyes. The man had dark brown skin and a disarming smirk, obvious enough to be noticeable behind the man’s thick but well-kept beard. He wore his graying hair short, cropped just above the ears. He had a strong nose, whose nostrils were flared in ironic expectation.
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“I hope you have good news,” came the voice, with a distant, ethereal quality, “though since it’s you Calling, I already know it won’t be.”
Entrails snorted. “Good to see you too.” This was a game they always played, this subtle banter which always masked more serious matters. He always liked that about his contact and felt like it’s the reason they worked so well together. Others in the Enclave could be much more… dour.
“No use beating around the bush. Out with it. The others?”
“Gone.”
“Damn! All?”
Trying to hide his grimace as best he could, Entrails nodded. Losses were part of the game. It happened to everyone. Such is the life of an adventurer. He had to admit, though, this latest defeat had taken him by surprise. The party had its problems like any other, but when the stakes were highest, they always worked together like those from any professional guild.
“Our information… bad. Suspiciously bad, if you catch my meaning.”
“You suspect something?”
“It’s beyond suspicion at this point. The proprietor. You know the type.”
“I see. We’ll put him on the list, then.” The cowled man paused and a hand came into view. He was rubbing his beard, thinking. “Well, I hope the mission wasn’t a complete loss. Tell me you learned something, at least?”
Entrails took a quick peek towards the camp. Sure enough, the kid was sound asleep. Nothing less than an earthquake would wake him now—that was part of the price of letting one Fatigue dip that low. Entrails returned his attention to the Calling Orb, still levitating in darkness.
“The tunnels are nothing like anything I’ve ever seen. Labyrinthine. Filled with mobs. Goblins. Tons of them, high level. Don’t know if what we’re looking for is there, but something definitely is. I’m lucky to have made it out alive.”
“Guess that necklace of yours comes in handy.”
“Indeed. Especially when the map doesn’t match the tunnels.”
“Did you confront the mine proprietor about it?”
“Too dangerous. If he knew I suspected something, I wouldn’t have made it out the gates. Even then, he thought to catch me off guard, sent men to run me down not even one full hex away from the camp.”
“His mistake.” The man chuckled knowingly. “You better head straight to the Dannamore chapter, then. Maybe we’ll try again soon, but this Skole will need to be dealt with first. I’ll work on it.”
“Yeah, about that… listen, I uh… I picked up a stray.”
Though he couldn’t see his contact’s eyes, Entrails knew the man’s eyebrows had raised. Entrails waited for a response, but when none came, he continued.
“He’s from the mining camp. Some kid. Escapee.”
“Well, this comes as a surprise. That’s not very much like you.”
“He…” Entrails started to say something, but quickly changed course. “He stole something from that slavedriver of a proprietor. After that goon sent his men after me, it felt like a small revenge.”
“Is he green?”
“Greener than grass.”
"Interesting. Guess there's some hope for that black heart of yours after all."
"I wouldn't count on it."
The man laughed. “I suppose you should bring him by, then. You can always head to Dannamore after you drop the boy off. Perhaps he'll prove useful to our cause. If he stole from the mine owner and managed to escape, all at that level… well. That’s got to count for something.”
“Alright. Be in Tiann in a few days, barring disaster.”
“I’ll give you five just in case. Be careful. No one there to watch your back this time.
“I—” Just then, Entrails heard some commotion, far off, but definitely coming from the road below the bluff. “Got to go.” He didn’t wait to see if his contact had heard him, but it wasn’t unusual for either of them to cut a Calling short when a situation arose. Entrails snatched the globe out of the air. His contact’s shadowed face disappeared, faded, and the glass went back to just that—clear glass. Entrails quickly put it back into his inventory and went to investigate the growing noise.
He couldn’t be sure, but… it sounded like dozens of boots, marching in unison.