A delightful combination of smells hit me as soon as I entered. It was the distinct scents of a stoked hearth, fresh laundry, and cooked meat. I felt my stomach rumble again, and I placed a hand down to quiet it. I watched as Iam and Berieal made their way into a secondary room, much larger and rowdier than the one I was in.
I stood in the foyer of the lovely little inn. A large polished wooden counter took up most of the available space in the cramped room. It was definitely intended as the check-in desk. The floor was made of scuffed gray stones, smoothed and roughly cut, and the space in between had been filled with red clay.
Behind the counter stood a green-scaled creature I hadn’t encountered yet. Resembling plant, humanoid, and some sort of lizard, they had a high brow with large human eyes—blue. Taller even than Berieal, though not so tall as the fomorian, this individual built very daintily, fragile almost, with a broad face and pink petals hanging from the back of their jaw. There was a rise of breast underneath the innkeeper’s smock, though not knowing their race’s anatomy, I couldn’t discern their sex. The smooth face was a pale yellow, though the brow and temples were peppered with scales. Finally, at the crest of their head was a luminous shock of straw-colored...hair? It seemed a bit more resilient than Human hair, and it seemed to be made out of little antlers or thorns. Above the being’s head floated the description:
Seon
“Hello,” the creature said, smiling, “welcome to the Anvilhead!”
The voice was definitely feminine and had the lilt of a Scottish burr. Her—I decided—smile was quite enchanting as well. Her teeth were very human-ish, though she had several intermittent fangs.
“Uh, hello,” I said, looking at Kellmen questioningly. He nodded and stepped forward.
“Six to stay. What’s your largest room?” He said, already reaching for his money pouch.
“Four beds is our largest available, so sorry,” she said, with a bow of apology, “two rooms would be required to accommodate such a party size.”
Kellmen shrugged.
“Can’t be helped, I guess. Price?”
The innkeeper turned and pointed to a small wooden sign behind her that showed their pricing.
“One large room is three silver per night, and one medium room is two silver per night, though if you also plan to have supper here, I will discount it to four silver total.” She smiled and curtsied politely. I couldn’t tell how old she was, but her voice sounded as though she was perhaps middle-aged—by human standards anyways.
“How much is a meal?” Kellmen asked, holding the pouch out but not opening it.
“The usual rate for a meal, per adventurer, is already discounted from five copper to four copper. But I am authorized to offer a price of three copper per meal, per adventurer, per night.” She smiled.
“Sold!” Kellmen said and slapped four silver down on the counter.
“Would you like to apply to receive a Guild discount for future stays?” She asked, reaching for two keys on the wall. I could see dozens of other identical keys hanging on hooks.
“No, thanks,” Kellmen said, “we won’t be here often.”
“Very well,” she stated, handing him the keys, “rooms Two and Fifteen. Room Two is on the first floor and has two beds. Room Fifteen is on the second floor and has four beds. Dinner is available after five evening bells, breakfast after five morning bells. My name is Seon. Please let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you!” Kellmen said and slung his arm over my shoulder.
“Let’s grab a quick drink before Iam, and Berieal get obliterated, shall we?”
“Hell yes,” I said, then considered a question. It seemed like the most opportune time to learn information.
“What kind of race is she?” I asked, nodding back toward the innkeeper.
“Oh,” Kellmen said, smiling, “she’s an ‘olpheist.’ Some people call them ‘plant dragons’ because of their skin. They’re a very practical ilk and you see a lot of them as merchants or innkeepers like her. NPC Race only. They’re great at what they do—you’re never going to feel better about getting ripped off than when dealing with an olpheist.”
“So, that’s an NPC?” I asked, looking back over my shoulder at the innkeeper. She was tidying up some paperwork at the desk in a relaxed manner.
“Yeah. You can’t select the olpheist race at the start, so it stands to reason they’re Non-Player Characters. It’s a shame though. There are several unique Races that I imagine would be fun to utilize the skills of.”
“Oh,” I said. I didn’t think now was the time to reveal that I hadn’t chosen a race when I arrived.
“But wasn’t that a good deal she gave us?” I asked.
“At face value, but they have already inflated the rates for the rooms, and I’m sure the food is hardly better than slop—only worth a copper at best. Plus,” he said, releasing me, “we still have to pay for our meals. So they can plan on losing one silver if they figure six big, strapping adventurers like ourselves are going to eat and drink in their tavern.”
“Seems more like just good business rather than a scam,” I said, walking down the hallway to the adjoining room. I could hear the slam of steins and loud laughter.
“You haven’t tasted the ale yet,” Kellmen said with a wink.
And so we made our merry way into the tavern side of the Anvilhead.
A fifty-foot by thirty-foot room greeted us as we entered, one wall entirely controlled by the dark wood of the bar. Many thick timbers crossed the surprisingly low ceiling supported by large columns of beams in strategic places throughout the room. Because of the height, the area had a cramped-yet-cozy vibe about it.
Various adventurers filled the benches of the six long, beer hall-style tables, drinking and laughing and arguing passionately. It was impossible to tell who was an adventurer and who was an NPC I was realizing.
A surly-looking, gray-skinned creature stood behind the counter, polishing mugs with a contemptuous scowl. A sluagh. I recognized the telltale rotting elements of their race now. He didn’t regard us as we entered, preferring instead to stare at a commotion at the table in front of him.
As I made my way further into the room, I realized that the bartender had a golden indicator above his head that had been hidden from my view by one of the low beams. But now wasn’t the time to pursue a Quest, especially knowing nothing about how this world worked.
Come back to it later.
Torches lined the walls as there were no windows to be found in this room. They burned greasily in their sconces, grimy smoke billowing up to the ceiling and hovering there.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“Must’ve built the ceilings too low,” Kellmen said, seeing my stare, “usually the smoke disperses after fifteen feet.”
“Anything to save a buck,” I ventured. I chose a seat at the table where Berieal was sitting. The Shaman was drinking sloppily from a horn that was strapped to his shoulder, three full tankards sitting in front of him.
“Hey, thanks, man,” I said, reaching for one of the vessels, “I’ll get the next round!”
Berieal smacked my hand away with his elbow, spilling the horn’s contents all over me.
“That’s not for you.” He said, and then went back to drinking from the dregs of the horn.
“Oh,” I said, looking at Kellmen. The blue-clad warrior was stifling a laugh and grabbed one of the tankards and slid it toward me. Berieal didn’t even react to his Guildmaster, so I accepted it gratefully as he annexed one for himself as well. I took a tentative sip.
Holy shit!
The drink was strong! I coughed, and Berieal and Kellmen started laughing.
You have unlocked your first Social Skill!
You have unlocked [Teetotalling]!
You’re new to the world of alcohol and its consumption. It can be a fun time, but make sure you imbibe responsibly! Overindulgence can lead to negative attributes to other skills! You might find yourself feeling confident or exceptionally handsome, but these side effects will fade with an antidote or rest. Sláinte!
What in the actual fuck? I am going to get so drunk, so very fast.
I had a quick flashback to high school and hurling up a bright purple liquid into a cornfield. I made up my mind to absolutely not make a fool of myself like that again.
“Aww, our boy’s first adult beverage,” Berieal said. He finished his horn and placed it upside-down on the tabletop, and began drinking from the remaining tankard.
Iam was a grim specter at the end of our table. Quietly sipping from his own cup, a foamy, dark beer left residue under his nose as he pulled his lips away. His eyes found mine staring back at him, and he harrumphed and turned so that I couldn’t watch him.
“So,” I said, trying to get a feel for my new friends, “how long have you guys all been here?”
“Long enough,” Iam said, still not facing me.
“I have been here a long time,” Berieal said, his eyes wandering around the tavern from behind his mug, “I was in the First Wave. So perhaps a little over three years?”
“I’ve been here about two years--same with Iam, we started in the same wave,” Kellmen said, nodding his head in agreement with Berieal.
“Waves?” I asked. I felt as though I would be continually learning some new and perplexing element of this world forever.
“Each new batch of Noobs typically come in the same twenty-four-hour window,” Kellmen explained, “no one knows how or why, it’s just how it’s been. There will be a few months in between each Wave, but everyone from each batch is usually present within a day of the first one arriving.”
Did anyone else come by rift?
The impression I had been given so far was that my arrival was anything but usual.
“So that’s how it works for everyone? They all arrive on a Wave?” I asked.
“Not always, but yeah, usually. You’ll have the occasional outlier like you, or Anubis. But that’s very rare.”
My heart did a somersault. If some didn’t arrive on Waves, more than just Anubis and I, then perhaps they would be who I would want to talk to. It also seemed like it was enough of a rarity that people might know about Lina!
“Have you guys heard of a player named Lina?” I asked, focusing on Kellmen.
He shrugged.
“No clue,” he said, and looked at Berieal.
“I know an Arcturus…?” Berieal offered, rattling his necklace.
“What a fucking useless suggestion,” Iam grumbled, finishing his drink and holding up a single finger to the barkeep. The sluagh nodded and turned, filling a fresh tankard with beer from the tap of a massive barrel behind the bar.
“What’s Lina’s Race?” Iam was suddenly interested in what I had to say for the first time.
“Uh, I dunno, maybe—“
“What about Class?” He interjected again.
“Not sure, she’s—“
“Anything other than her name that you know?” He asked, roughly, losing his patience with me.
“Not here,” I said, “I haven’t seen her since—“
“How can you not know anything about her? Was this someone you met from a letter?”
He said that last part so scathingly that it stung.
“Easy, Iam,” Kellmen warned, giving the sidhe a look, “why don’t we hear him out so he can more fully elucidate us?”
Iam snorted and turned as the bartender approached, another mug of beer sloshing in his meaty hands. The pink-skinned sidhe traded him two coppers and started drinking immediately, taking a long draught of the contents.
I took a breath and leaned forward. I wasn’t sure how much I should tell them.
“Lina is from the same place as me,” I said simply.
“Like a starting area?” Kellmen asked, intrigued.
“No, like, a whole different world.”
Silence. My three companions looked at me seriously, making me feel quite uncomfortable. The pause went on for a few moments before Kellmen finally smiled.
“So, Anubis was telling the truth,” he said, breaking the tension.
Berieal leaned forward conspiratorially and leaned his chin on his laced fingers.
“Tell. Me. More,” he said.
“Alright well—“ I started, but felt someone slam into me.
There was a sharp pinch in my lips and gums, as I hit the rim of the stein I was drinking from, the contents splashing everywhere.
A couple of the rowdy patrons behind me had gotten into a scuffle and had begun shoving one another. The stein was empty. My lip was throbbing, and as I looked down at my ale-soaked pants, I saw a bead of red blood drop.
Orange Zone.
I slid out of the way as a human adventurer fell, hitting his head on the bench where I’d been.
Kaegaen March
I saw his name floating above him as he fell. He let out a loud yowl and held his forehead in his hands as he lay on the rough stone of the tavern floor.
Blows were exchanged. More of the patrons were getting involved. A plate of apples that had been sitting on the tabletop was launched into the back of the tavern. Someone got hit and started cursing. More angry oaths and people getting aggressive.
Then the bar erupted into chaos.
I climbed onto the tabletop and found that Berieal had done likewise, as we were both within firing range of whoever was launching apples. A clurichaun warrior named Eike, crunched his mailed fist into Princegar Holdbow—a skinny fomorian with an unprotected face, knocking him backward and onto the floor. Then Tant—a dark-socketed sidhe with a broadsword on his back tripped over him and fell.
A human leaped through the air, her long blonde ponytail flapping in the wake of her propulsion and kicked the clurichaun warrior in the chest. He flew back and slammed against the far wall. His head cracked against the stone, and he was out. Wolfspur, the human, then dashed off toward another group, a maniacal grin on her face.
A stein was thrown, hitting Kellmen in the chest, the liquid drenching him and Iam. They stood, almost in unison. Instantly, they too had joined the fray, punching and kicking their way into the insanity. They were blurs of blue and white as they struck out with a strange, disconnected glee at the various brawlers.
Even the bartender was getting in on the action. The stout sluagh was standing on the bar top, swatting anyone who came too close with a large metal serving tray. He seemed occupied explicitly with keeping people from damaging anything behind the counter.
I watched as Berieal wiped his mouth and stood up, grasping the edge of one of the low ceiling beams and pulled himself up into the rafters.
This is too rich for my blood… I thought.
I climbed under the table and out through a space between two battling fomorians, punching one another brutally as they both lie on the floor. All around me, things were being broken, and people were being thrown around and attacked. I crawled toward the open door leading to the hallway. I didn’t think it’d be a good idea to participate in even non-lethal combat until I knew what I was capable of.
As I reached the other side of the room, I turned and saw Berieal. The lochan was relaxing on the crossbeam, his legs stretched out from beneath his cloak, his arm supporting his head as he casually drank from a tankard.
“Oh! That was a good one!” Berieal said enthusiastically as one fighter punched another right below him.
I heard a shuffle behind me and turned. Seon, the olpheist innkeeper, stood there, an intrigued look on her face. She was carrying a basket of herbs in her arms, and she smiled a little and rolled her eyes as the chaos unfolded inside the tavern.
“Sorry about this,” I said, awkwardly, “it really seems to have gotten out of hand.”
“Oh, is this your doing?” she asked, setting the basket down at her feet, “you didn’t strike me as a trouble maker.”
“Oh, no,” I said, shaking my head, “I didn’t have anything to do with this at all. I just wanted to get outta there. Which is why I’m standing bravely in the hallway.”
Seon regarded me politely, tilting her head and flashing her charming smile.
“Then why are you apologizing, if you did nothing wrong?”
I cringed inwardly and felt the white-hot pang of embarrassment fill me.
“Oh, uh, I dunno,” I said, stumbling for words, “that’s just something I do.”
“A guilty conscience then?” Seon said. She reached into her basket and removed a small green and purple plant. She opened her menu, and after selecting an option, the plant disappeared with a flourish of magical clustering light. In its place was a tiny vial of swirling green and purple liquid.
“Here,” she said, handing the bottle to me, “it won’t cure your self-condemnation, but it will heal your lip.”
I accepted the item, and gave her a very pinched and shameful smile.
“Thank you, Seon,” I said, and I activated the item. It worked immediately, the throbbing fading from my face.
“You’re welcome, Adventurer,” she said cordially, picking up the basket and turning back down the hallway and disappearing around the corner.