First Contact is a trope in Science Fiction. Those stories are based on suppositions. They quite universally suggest patience. None of those authors have been sitting in an empty market square for almost two hours. I don’t want to be here at night. I get up.
I hesitate. How peaceful should I be? In the end I am not ready to die to facilitate this exchange. I will knock on doors, instead of breaking them down and I will flee if attacked. But I must prepare for an ambush. I retrieve my wand and a flashlight.
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Malkro uses the gestures that indicate that the intruder is becoming active. Heplo picks up a piece of wood beyond what you could call a stick. It deserves to be called a beam. He has the Might essence and the [Mighty Strength] ability. Malkro is sliding down from his spy post on a roof.
Malkro: He has entered the cooking house.
Heplo: I see. How long until the message arrives?
Yesklo: Long past. The question is how far the patrol was from us, when they got it. Worst case is about three hours from reception. So about one and a half hours in the worst case until they’ll be here.
Heplo: Too long. I’ll meet him.
Heplo has two daughters; thirteen and eleven years old. Nobody is present to object. Malkro climbs up to his post again.
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This is no home. The building is one big room with ovens in it. The lack of a proper door should have been a sign that this is nobody’s personal dwelling. I wanted to knock on doors. I did not consider what to do without a wooden door to knock on.
Something is off, though. I cannot quite … Of course! What do these ovens operate on? Where would you put the firewood? Where are the chimneys? I should analyze this. I bring out my probe. I should have done this earlier. Am I growing soft in the head? Well, being transformed into another species, temporarily given the powers of a demigod and being reduced to an unattached soul in an unholy ritual is a reason to take a nice, long vacation.
So this is a magical oven. That tells me that this world still commands magic. Does it matter right now? There may be no logical connection, but I’ve had enough. I extend my aura as far as it will go. That feels easier than it used to be. And that really means that my CPU cooler is down, figuratively speaking. I should have scanned myself long ago.
Race:
Outworlder Current rank: Iron 0 Progress to bronze: 7.5% Racial Abilities: [Fighter in the Clouds] [Pantry of Poisonous Horror] [Instinctive Aim] [Master of the Unholy Aura] [Astral Consumer] [War will feed itself] Power Gun Iron 1 Speed Battlefield Iron 0 Spirit Dimension Iron 1 Recovery Vast Iron 1
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Now that is interesting. More interesting than some ovens for sure. But playing an alien in the middle of a village of reclusive people is not an apt opportunity for extensive autoanalysis.
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Heplo is sneaking through the village, keeping close to buildings and stepping softly. Obviously this is stupid. Adventurers have an aura sense. Heplo knows that much, even though he has only one essence. Besides he wants to stall the intruder by talking, which requires him to be noticed. Still, his instincts scream at him to sneak.
They have sent a man to each road leading into the village to warn approaching travellers and update the patrol, when it finally arrives. More cannot be done, it is up to him now. He steps onto the market square.
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Rod Geller has spent a rough night in his tree, alarmed at every sound in the night, fighting to keep his aura confined, but not retracted, as it masked his scent and sounds he might make. By virtue of his Dark essence the night is his. Unfortunately it is not his alone. A Geller will not ignore clear clues just to enjoy familiar ways. The net was bronze rank. The ambushers had excellent stealth. Other people have Dark essences, too. He would not survive pitting an iron rank Dark essence against a bronze rank Dark essence. He must use superior training. That means operating in an adverse environment; meaning during daylight for him.
Gods bless Geller family procedures. He is carrying contour maps of this area and enough spirit coins to sustain him for a few weeks in his dimensional satchel. He needs to pick a route. No. Premature. He needs to pick a destination. Their enemy knew their base camp for sure. He laid a false track and a trap. He did not choose the site by random chance. Warning his comrades Chodhen has left behind is not an option. He has to consider them captured or dead and wandering into their base camp would be useless at best and fatal at worst.
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This house has two entrances. I suppose this part of this world does not fear winters harsh enough to justify heating concerns in a house of one big room full of ovens. And I feel a bit of remorse. If they wanted to cook dinner here, I have definitely shattered their plans. I can’t help it. Storming into their city like a madman on drugs would not have helped either. And we need potions.
The construction of these buildings is interesting. Columns of bricks with horizontal wooden beams forming a lattice filled with something related to wattle and daub, the whole thing whitewashed. Well, once whitewashed. I knock at a door, even though according to my aura senses, this building is empty.
Now, if they still have magic, could they have rituals for masking their auras or blocking my aura? I really strain to push out my aura and close my eyes for concentration. There is somebody behind me!
I wheel around. A bit premature. That person wasn’t camouflaged but at the edge of my range. I overreacted a bit. Anyway, this person looks more productive an approach than staring at an empty house. I walk around the corner with all four hands slightly raised to demonstrate that I am holding no weapons. Well, the wand is just a thought away in my storage and my armour should protect me.
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Gedlo, Morro and Paklo entrust their exhausted heidels to the villager who waited for them.
G: Spread out formation. We go in directly. He can fly. Hence we need to surprise him by speed. Capture, if possible. But don’t put yourself into danger.
In silence they are entering the village.
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The man is surprised to see me. He looks human. At least we are not dealing with the rise of another species after mankind and allied species would have exterminated themselves on this world.
I don’t want to alarm him any further. So I extend my aura to sense his emotions. The man seems to have one essence only.
He is speaking. That’s a lot of words in a language I don’t know. I answer in my native language. His facial expression is a testament to incomprehension. I wouldn’t need aura sense for that. Nor does he recognise the language. I try again in English. He speaks again, slower and clearer this time: Lap kert?
That is no language I recognise. Presumably it means something like „What do you want?“ or „Who are you?“, but presumptions are not helping anybody now.
He speaks again: Lan mit? Lan hu mit?
Morro: Telekinetic aura! He is projecting!
Gedlo: Take him out!
I throw myself to a side. An arrow grazes my flank and the shaft shatters on my armour.
I go into [Eternal Moment]. One of my attackers mirrors that. And he throws a spear that just appeared in his hand. This time I am up to the task. I grab the missile telekinetically. A metaphysical pushing match ensues. I win. The spear is deflected and ends up in a wooden beam of one of the houses around the square. This is useless as well as highly dangerous. I teleport away.
Heplo: I live here! Don’t kill me!
Gedlo: Stand down! He’s gone.
Gedlo: Good thinking.
Paklo: What was that?
Morro: What? You mean „who“? That was an essence user. No monster has an aura like that.
Paklo: No. I mean his race. If that was an illusion, why not use something less obvious?
Gedlo: Later. First we check on the villagers.