After another thirty minutes of walking, we reached a clearing, and as we stepped out of the trees, my breath caught in my throat.

Roughly a hundred feet from the path was a sloping green hill, a little overgrown but no less vibrant because of it. At the top of the wold was a thirty-foot wall made of yellow-white stone. It was cracked and worn but looked very sturdy. At its crest were the ramparts, decorated with red flags spaced every fifty feet or so along the wall’s length. The wall itself stretched a hundred feet in either direction before disappearing at a turn. Ruddy roofs peeked over the top, and I could see the steeple of a church in the distance, the tallest feature in the town by far.

To the right of us another eighty feet away was a muddy, fractured gate at the top of a slope of slippery, wet dirt. The entrance was defaced by muck and grime and the skeleton of a twisted and ruined tree was pressed into the clay of the tunnel within. The branches reached out in a death paw towards the top of the wall, and the roots were knotted, ghoulish things that crossed the threshold where people tripped over them.

A small train of men and women were making their way into the city—some armored, some not, possessions piled high inside a wagon. A sentinel stood lazily near the entrance, holding out her hand to accept a cluster of papers. She scowled at the documents for less time than was likely needed, her other palm naked and open. One of the adventurers slipped a few glittering coins into her hand, and she immediately handed the papers back and waved them through, before resting her back against the arching wall.

Kellmen looked over at me, a knowing smile creeping across his face as if to say “see?” I gave a stiff nod back, and the group of us trudged up the slope to meet the guard.

As we reached the gate, the sentinel lifted herself up languidly from her resting spot on a wood-slat box and sauntered out to block our passage.

“Papers?” She requested, holding her hand out and wobbling slightly. It was clear from her manner and speech that she’d been drinking. Her face was red at the cheeks, and her eyelids were puffy from intoxication. Her eyes seemed to travel everywhere, with no particular location in mind. She was definitely someone comfortable with her role.

“We don’t have any papers, I’m afraid!” Kellmen said, reaching into the purse and retrieving some money.

“State your business then?” The sentinel slurred, her eyes catching the coin. She was suddenly the picture of attention.

“Adventurers,” Kellmen said simply and passed the woman two silver coins.

She inspected the gift in her hand and looked back up jerkily at Kellmen, then back to her palm. Then she slipped the coins into a satchel at her waist and waved us through.

I didn’t move at first, shocked that it had been so straightforward after the tense build-up.

“In ya go then,” she said, frowning at me, “or are planning to be out her come Solstice?”

“Thank you most kindly,” Berieal said quickly, ushering me passed and into the gateway.

The sentinel gave me a strange look as if trying to discern who I was, but two more armor-clad travelers arrived behind us, and she quickly turned to them.

“Papers?” Was the last thing I heard before the volume of the town drowned her out.

“Easy peasy,” Berieal said, still pushing me along.

“I got it!” I said and broke away from him and dusted myself off.

Berieal didn’t even react, he just continued through the portcullis and into the cobblestoned streets beyond.

While not exactly a large city, the town of Gruoch was nonetheless a bit overwhelming. Everywhere I looked, creatures of various races mulled about. A finely dressed clurichaun in robes of lilac and a tall furry gray cap stood on a barrel behind the taper of a merchant’s counter, haggling with two human adventurers in shoddy armor. The gaggle of folk that had entered just before us were stopped in the middle of the road, arguing about something, two of them pointing in opposite directions. A few feet further, there was a young girl, about seven or eight, giggling as she darted between the legs of a fomorian in a long red cloak and thin leather. She was human-like in presentation, but her cool-gray skin was rotting and looked almost dead, something I had not encountered yet. Kellmen explained that she was a sluagh—a ghoulish Player race. Hot on her tail was a teenage human girl who seemed to be trying to catch her in some game. Many different people moved about, some seemingly lost, while others forged through pedestrians with purpose. It was vibrant and awe-inspiring to see this world at work.

A ragged-looking sidhe woman in a tattered gray cowl and a spoiled and frayed tan dress approached us from the dimness of the alley to our left.

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Please,” she pleaded, reaching for none of us in particular, “do you have any coin to spare, kind adventurers?” Her voice was worn down as much as the rest of her. She had yellow skin, lined with age, her mouth was pulled into a frown, and her sad eyes were stained by forgotten tears.

I balked and took a step back as she passed me and dropped to her knees in front of Kellmen, grasping his royal blue cloak. The Guildmaster didn’t seem bothered, he just held her lightly by the arms, raising her to her feet.

“No need for that, ma’am,” he said, straightening the cloth of his outerwear and, for the third time I’d seen today, took money from his pouch. He placed a few silver in her frail hand and closed her fingers around it.

“Be well,” he said, “and blessings of Annan.”

“Blessings of Aós Dendhuallch og Món, Adventurer!” She cried back at him, her eyes welling up.

Kellmen moved past her, and she kept her fist tight, smiling. Iam walked past without a word, his white cloak fluttering in his wake. Berieal leaned close to the woman and whispered something in her ear. Her face lit up, and she nodded urgently back at him.

“Yes, thank you!” She said, grabbing his hand and closing her eyes. Berieal touched his necklace for a moment and spoke under his breath, then removed his hand and used it to raise his gnarled staff above her. As he finished muttering, the crook began to glow with a calm blue light that formed into a tiny orb. It fluttered over to the woman. The translucent shard of magick touched her brow before dissolving.

The vagabond’s expression became placid, and her eyes slowly opened to look right at Berieal. He withdrew a silver coin and gave it to her before following his Guildmaster.

I felt awkward. I had no money or even items or blessings to give the woman. So I just smiled.

“Good luck!” I said and hurried past, embarrassed.

I was almost a block away before a thought struck me.

Was that a Player?

I turned back to look over my shoulder, but by that time, she was gone. The thought was a bit unsettling. I didn’t know all the rules yet, but there seemed to be clear NPCs in this world.

Or were there? Everything definitely felt real. I’d need to treat everyone as though they were real just in case.

I raced to catch up with the group as they moved down the road, passed several vendors and shops with rickety wooden signs. I could smell freshly baked bread, the delicious odor wafting through the air, and felt my stomach rumble. The notification for my Stamina ignited, and I wondered numbly if it was possible to starve to death here.

Ultimate shitty death.

I followed my three new companions for a few blocks, and soon they had reached the vibrant town square.

Here, more people congregated, bobbing to and fro, going about their daily routine. In any direction I looked, there was the cluttered bedlam of player names and health bars, married together above heads. This was the central point for Gruoch’s market and artisans. Even now, I could see a line of stalls even more fully filled than on the streets outside of the East Gate. I heard vendors calling out for their wares while another cluster of people began summoning other adventurers to help them with a quest. A drunken fomorian with a single horn was trying to climb on to his massive horse and failing miserably, his ankle caught and twisted in the stirrup.

There were several golden indicators spread throughout the market, floating above the heads of specific individuals with throngs of adventurers gathered around beneath, speaking excitedly with them.

Quest Givers.

I watched as two innocent-seeming human women in large wizard-style hats scurried off, whispering and leaning on one another. They laughed and high fived before disappearing into a shop with a large green potion bottle on its sign.

Above it all lorded a giant statue, depicting a bald human warrior of some kind. The detail of the man was crafted quite marvelously out of marble. He had a ferocious scowl on his face and seemed to be reaching for a sword at his waist. As our group neared, I squinted to read the description plate fused to the base of the sculpture.

Shelor Mossbow - First Baron of Gruoch

134 HT - 199 HT

Chief Liberator of the Armies of the Blue Lord, Shelor was awarded the plot of land that would eventually become Gruoch as a thank you from the Blue Lord himself. Though he was slain in battle on his 65th birthday, Shelor lived a mostly quiet life after the Beinn Wars.

The lore of this place is pretty well fleshed out!

I wasn’t able to do much more examining because the party continued off down another side street. We drew near a grouping of tall, cozy, two-story buildings, and Kellmen slowed his gait. The roofs were brown, sloped slats that connected like fish scales. The timbers of the buildings’ frames were painted a dark gray while the primary color was an attractive eggshell white. The five structures were very similar in design, and it was likely the same person had built them all.

Kellmen stopped, examining one of them. The gently swaying marquee looked freshly painted and depicted an anvil, a stein, and a bed. It read The Anvilhead. I saw the notation in my vision that I could get more information from the sign, so I activated it with a finger.

The Anvilhead Inn [Business]

Owner: XheapSnake

Settled in the heart of the town of Gruoch, this quaint inn has a charming rustic feel while still offering access to the dynamic energy of the downtown area. Named after the famous Anvilhead ghost who haunted the forests near Gruoch many years ago. Oh yeah, and XheapSnake rules!

[More Information]

Great. If you own a business, you can author its description as well.

I clicked the prompt for additional stats, and a few more details became available.

Type: Hall

Created: Day 17 of the Month of Oak, 423 HT [01:51:32]

Durability: 17,263/20,000

Availability: Not for Sale

Very cool! Though, I had to wonder about it being considered a ‘hall.’ Was ‘inn’ not a type? Probably something I just don’t understand, yet.

I’d need to keep a running tally of the different little intricacies of items in this world. It seemed that many things could be created by Players. It was interesting that the structure had its own durability and even more impressive was how much it had been worn down since its construction.

But how long ago was that?

I had no idea yet what month or year it was here. I’d need to find a calendar, perhaps. I figured, based on precisely one bit of recent information, that it was sometime in the 400’s of HT.

...whatever that is.

“Hey, Nub, you coming?” Kellmen asked. He was holding the door open, and it looked as though Iam and Berieal had already entered.

“Yeah!” I said, closing out of the window and hurrying inside.