Nanoc vs the lambs

On the very edge of the multiverse, out where the lines between physics and magic were drawn with an unsteady hand, lay a universe like no other. At its center floated the seven layers of heaven Above where the gods gathered to play their endless games and the world Below which served as their board with its six great continents and countless islands that swirled across the seven seas.

(There had originally been seven continents until Chaos, first born of the gods, had sneezed so loudly that she’d shattered a whole continent into a thousand islands. She’d never apologize, either, which was just classic Chaos.)

The mortals who lived on the world Below served as both pieces and prizes in the god’s games, living and dying for immortal entertainment. There was much to be won in the games: power and boasting rights for the gods, a better afterlife for the mortals who served them.

Order, second born of the pantheon and god of ice and organization, was a particularly skillful and dedicated player. His Static Empire had grown to cover four of the seven continents and half of the islands. So dominant was Order in the games that the other gods and goddesses no longer challenged him directly, preferring to compete amongst themselves for a distant second prize. As a result, the games had become dull and the gods had stopped taking an interest in the lives of their mortal followers. That was all about to change: In a forest on the fringe of the Empire, out where monsters still roamed, a new player had recently entered the game, a mortal who threatened to overthrow the ascendancy of Order and change the very nature of the universe… if he survived.

Out of the forest strode Nanoc, the only gnome barbarian in the universe, smashing away the last of the undergrowth with his club. He was short – all gnomes are – but his frame was surprisingly muscular for a gnome, who were generally as skinny as rakes. Gnomes were also a glum race, for the most part, but Nanoc wore a broad smile on his face. As was traditional for his class, Nanoc only wore a ragged loin cloth and a leather belt strung around his chest. The belt had two sheaths for daggers. The first held a knife. There was nothing special about this knife. It was short and reasonably sharp. The tip was broken. The second sheath held a banana. The banana was special. The banana was dangerous.

Nanoc smashed the last sapling at the edge of the forest with his club, more to make a point than because the tree was in his way. Nanoc’s club was a thick wooden leg that ended in a steel-capped boot, and it had done surprisingly well at clearing a path through the forest. Traipsing behind the gnome was an elf in a dirty robe and a lizardling wearing leather armor and a look of mild despair. The trio stood with their backs to the dark forest and looked out onto rolling plains broken only by the occasional hill. This was farming country, and the land was cut into neat squares of wheat and grass. It did not look like a dangerous place.

“And you say that someone around here needs our help?” Nanoc asked.

“That’s what my map tells me, yes,” Rotcel ‘Loc the lizardling said, staring at her magical map. “There’s a request for heroes coming from here somewhere, but it’s hard to pin down. This is a cheap map, you know. The Guild wouldn’t give me anything better.”

“Because they knew you wouldn’t give it back?” Nonac suggested.

“I would have!” Rotcel ‘Lec protested. “I mean… if they kept asking for it.”

She wouldn’t have. Rotecl ‘Lec was a Treasure Hunter by class. While Treasure Hunters always insisted that their class was entirely unlike that of Thieves, the more truthful of them would admit that, yes, sometimes, the treasure they went after belonged to people who had no intention of sharing it. The Guild of Heroes liked Treasure Hunters, so long as they worked for the Guild. Nanoc didn’t have a problem with them, either. He didn’t have anything worth stealing.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Do you know, this land is considered the very fringe of the Static Empire, and the Guild of Heroes tends not to answer any calls here,” said Dren, the third member of their team. “I have a whole book about the geography of the region somewhere in here…”

Dren wore a dirty traveler's robe and had a large bag filled with books slung over his shoulder. He placed the bag on the ground and began searching through it. Dren was a Field Scholar by class. He was a servant of the god of Knowledge, eighth born of the first generation of gods. Knowledge had been tasked with teaching mortals all they needed to know to succeed in the world, and his followers were teachers and scholars, avid collectors of facts. All that was known in the world was theirs to share, and they did so generously. This was not always as helpful as it might seem. When faced with a house on fire, a follower of Knowledge was more likely to give a lecture on the origin of flames than look for a bucket of water.

“I can only see one farmhouse out here,” Rotecl ‘Lec said while Dren searched his books. “I bet they’re the ones who need help.”

They walked towards the farmhouse, breathing in the smell of manure and fresh bread that was typical of rural life. There was no sign of the farmer or their family in the fields or barns. Rows of corn waved in the breeze, flocks of goats huddled together in grassy fields, and purple slime cows had formed a ring beside a large pond of brown water. The animals moo’ed and grunted quietly, growing skittish as the trio walked by.

“I could eat a slime cow whole,” Nanoc muttered. “Even the horns.”

“Did you know, the horns are traditionally used to make toothbrush handles?” Dren said helpfully. “I don’t think you should eat them, although it would be interesting to try.”

Nanoc’s stomach grumbled so loudly that it echoed off a nearby barn, startling a bird into flight. Its squark of terror was the loudest sound they had heard on the farm.

“Where is everyone?” Rotcel ‘Loc asked nervously. “It’s too quiet out here.”

The lizardling’s class was perception-based, and she was sensitive to her environment. She noticed how nervous the goats were and how the slime cows had their horns facing outward, in a defensive ring. She had visited a great many farms on her missions as a lowly-ranked member of the Guild of Heroes, and each time she had been greeted by at least a guard dog or the walking corpse of a zombie farmer. This time there was nothing, not even a chicken.

It was concerning.

“We should sneak around a bit,” she suggested. “To see—”

Nanoc’s stomach grumbled so loudly that it made Rotcel ‘Loc jump. She glared at the gnome, who just shrugged. It had been days since they’d had a proper meal. Nanoc was in no mood for stealth.

“Hello! We’re from the Guild of Heroes,” Nanoc shouted.

“Well, that’s not entirely accurate—” Dren said, sounding worried. Knowledge was the god of truth, after all.

“We are registered with the Guild as heroes,” Nanoc corrected himself.

“For now,” Rotcel ‘Loc said sourly. “But they’ll never—"

Nanoc was distracted by a basket of strawberries abandoned beside the path. He jumped on them, taking a handful and throwing them into his mouth, barely chewing them. He offered the basket to Dren and Rotcel, who eagerly ate them.

“I love strawberries,” Nanoc said. “They are my favorite berry of all.”

“Did you know, strawberries are not technically berries,” Dren said.

“What? But it’s in the name!” Nanoc protested.

“The common name, yes. But biologically speaking, it’s an aggregate fruit. The seeds are on the outside, you see. It’s not a berry.”

Like all advocates of Knowledge, Dren loved to share interesting facts with his fellow mortals. This often made people very angry.

“Then what’s with the name?” Nanoc demanded. “It doesn’t taste like straw and it’s not a berry? I’ve been living a lie!”

“I prefer raspberries, anyway,” Rotcel ‘Loc said, throwing a strawberry in the air and skewering it with a knife.

“Raspberries, too, are not true berries.”

“What? No!” Rotcel ‘Loc said, dropping her prize. “What about blueberries, then?”

“They are berries, yes. The technical description depends on how the fruit is produced, you see, so some things not widely considered to be berries do qualify. Cucumbers, for example—”

“Cucumbers are a berry?” Nanoc shouted in outrage. He hated cucumbers.

“By the technical description, yes. Did you know—"

“No!” Nonac said, his face turning red. “How can a strawberry not be berry, but a cucumber is? This isn’t right, Dren, not at all.”

“Do you know, while I hear your passion, the details of these plants have been well noted in many botanical textbooks.”

“But my nan told me—”

There wasn’t time to learn what Nanoc’s nan thought. The grass beside them rustled, and Rotcel ‘Loc drew a long knife from her belt. She was a professional hero, trained by the Guild, always alert to the risk of ambush.

“Quiet down!” she hissed.

“But the berries—” Nanoc said loudly.

“There’s something in the grass!” Rotcel snapped. “Something big!”

“What?” Dren said, looking around everywhere except where the noise was coming from. “I don’t see anything - argh!”