a door opens
from the door pour thousands of sheep
movement speed is severely hampered, reports of inclement weather of the same type abound
what do you do?
movement speed is severely hampered, reports of inclement weather of the same type abound
what do you do?
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now what?
what shall you do now?
where to, sherlock?
roll a 20 sided die
It is inhabited by many kinds of people and composed of brightly painted brick buildings.
what will you do here?
Assassin poems, Poems that shoot
guns. Poems that wrestle cops into alleys
and take their weapons leaving them dead
"This is ridiculous. We're just going to walk into a pack of wolves dragging away some half a corpse."
"So what? You can take a wolf."
"I don't want to!"
Joan would be the one fighting any wolves, so his trepidation was reasonable enough. Nez, the one goading him into it, just liked to watch. They were both a bit more eager to kill things than was normal among civilized men, but this line of work isn't very civilized.
"How much farther, Joan?" I asked. His order had somehow trained him to have a freakishly good sense of smell, among other things, so he was our scout in addition to front line fighter for the moment. Nobody but a monk or a bloodhound could track their way through this chaotic valley and its entangling underbrush.
"I don't know. I- shh!" Nez and I stopped immediately as Joan crept forward and disappeared into a network of vines I had thought covered a dirt wall.
We waited for the human birdcall - I don't know how monks do that sort of thing - that indicated everything was alright. It came within seconds, and not following the sounds of dying wolves.
---
A small sort of almost clearing was covered in parts of animals. Joan was in the center, along with a man-shaped thing in robes.
The thing did turn out to be a man, but understand, that's not the judgment you'd make if you saw this situation. The robes, perhaps once expensive but now covered in rips and burns, covered its body, its face, its hands. They were thick enough that the impression given was a mound of leather as tall as a man. I still don't know how he stands that heat.
The man introduced himself as Cal-ed and apologized for the mess, glancing as he did at Joan, who was doing his best to suppress his enhanced senses.
"What the hell?" Nez asked through his covered nose.
"Ah, just gathering materials, you know. The lymphoid humor, of the boar, it is quite useful." His accent matched his bizarre name. "Normally I would, you know, just buy some, but its worth is not understood well by the people, so I must break the eggs myself." He gestured at a half-dissected juvenile. "I put a nice lure on them, yes, and the wolves take care of the rest for me. I suppose that is why you are here as well, adventurers? But I would not eat them now, no, that is the second half of the lure."
Nice guy. "Actually," I explained, "we're not hungry, just disoriented. We'd like to find a town for the night, or at least somewhere to set up camp."
"Ah. Yes. Here." He uncovered one of his arms enough to reveal a sort of mitten, in which was held a map, again covered in fluids that were, I had slowly realized, not limited to blood. "You see, a league up this hill should be the top, and from there you can see a trail. I think there is a town down a road visible from that place. I suppose I will be there later. Good?"
"Good."
I led Nez and Joan off and he returned to his work.
---
"Adventurers" is a nice way of describing us. In a few years, perhaps, things we do could be eulogized and euphemized by some bard, and in decades parents would sing about us to their children. The boring facts however are that we murder for bread.
Joan, as I said, was a religious man. Most of his people live comfy lives in towns, occasionally scaring off stray dogs that get too greedy, but zealous types like him are sent out to proselytize among the unsafe masses. In any case, he moves even faster than his prey.
Nez is our healer. It's likely he's some young noble in a thin disguise. Joan is strictly forbidden from killing other men, so Nez and I take care of that, and Nez quite enjoys watching me work. He's a coward, but we work well together.
I'm sure none of us would live like this if we had other options. Even a noble could watch people die for his amusement in an arena, I suppose. No amount of sociopathy could outweigh sleeping in beast-infested woods and not knowing what your next meal will be.
---
We found the town soon enough. It didn't have a name, or did and I forgot it. It doesn't matter, really. Names of towns are for maps, and most of the residents wouldn't know it if asked, I'm sure.
We found the dissection man, too, sitting in the inn marginally cleaner. Without his robes, I recognized him from some scrys. He'd broken into my house several times. What a coincidence. I sighed to myself; I'm not good with confrontations.
Just as I resolved to find his house and burn it next time I was home, Nez called me over to him. It's that guy!, he said. He still smells like rotten pork!, he said. Nez, of course, smelled like alcohol.
"Nez has told me all about you," Cal-ed started. "The quiet type, yes? Well, that is what drink is for." He slid me some very strong mead. "I am a medicine seller, you know, a doctor. I tell you, drinks in this country are panacea."
"Nez, you're a healer. Aren't you supposed to have some kind of rivalry with his type?"
"I-" "Ah, well, you see, a good magician like Nez knows his work only goes so far. For the slow healing, not in the heat of battle, that is mine. Actually, yes, I should mention" - he flashed a small coin and grinned - "I charge a flat fee, ten piece, very reasonable. If things go down, south."
A thief in more than one sense. I nodded and walked off, but Nez called me back. "Heka, listen. Listen. This guy, this guy. You said, you said once, you were from - from - Lashio, right? Well, listen, this guy, he runs the fucking bar there!"
"Haha, I don't run it, I just own- er, wait, really?" He looked at me for the first time. Evidently he didn't recognize me, since I had not been home during the burglaries.
"I live just outside of town. In that old complex everyone calls the Convent," I said pointedly. Recognition briefly flashed and he smiled more weakly. "Is that... hm... I must say, I thought the place was abandoned. They tell such tales about it on the barstool, that it's haunted and so on."
"Only by me. I should probably ward the place better. Anyway, nice meeting you again, et cetera. Nez, I'm going to find us work."
Soon enough I found several separate people who greatly desired some nearby caves to be cleansed of monsters and vagabonds. As
payment we would receive several nights' worth of room and board and a
few pieces of silver scraped together by local merchants: a good haul.
---
We limped back that night. We'd exterminated nearly every cavern
when a rickety old trap managed to force a bolt through Nez's ribcage.
He passed out from shock before he could patch himself up, and by the
time Joan had carried his body back to the town he'd lost quite a lot of
blood. He was already dead, really, but Joan was a sap.
"I did not intend my advertisement to be so, ah, pertinent..."
"Just fix him. Look, we've got coin, just..." A sap.
My
body is supernaturally tough, thanks to my circumstances, and it's seen
much more damage than most with less complaint, but most adventurers
are not so lucky. A normal citizen of course has many reasons to seek
out an apothecary, and presumably they are pleased by the services they
receive. A soldier has more deadly ailments, but with a proper field
hospital can survive well enough. A vagabond keeps himself running with
magic, like a wraith, long after his internal organs have been punctured
and destroyed by the forces that be, and opportunity for doctors to
work is rare.
Nonetheless, Cal-ed worked. No longer a mound of rags,
he kept only his mouth (to keep his humours from bothering the patient,
he's told me) and body covered. Even his hands were ungloved, just
coated in alien substances he took from his pack. From what I've learned
of his trade since, he worked expertly. I should ask if he would have
done the same for me.
---
By next morning Nez was well enough to
sit up in bed and magic away a few of his own wounds. He was miserably
tired and weak, but alive, which is much better a fate than
circumstances would have suggested.
Joan was ecstatic. "Cal! Wow!
I've never seen anything like this! Nez, you gotta learn from this guy,
or something." Nez half smiled. "It's like you were never that bad! How
long will it be til he's recovered, doc?"
"Yes, well." The newly christened Cal wasn't so enthusiastic. "Actually, he's probably going to die." Joan frowned.
"He's poisoned," I guessed.
"Oh,
yes. Very poisoned." Cal-ed rearranged a few red vials and continued.
"I don't have enough spare, uh, humors, to replace all that contaminated
by the bolt. And the poison itself, has several components I don't
recognize, cave beasts from what you've told me-"
"And you don't have some kind of antitoxin?"
"Miss
Heka, I apologize, but I cannot keep every type of medicine on my
person at all times. Especially not for something as rare, to men, you
see, as some cave spider..."
Joan was stricken.
A small smile
passed Cal-ed's mouth. "...ah, well, it is possible, yes, that I could
work something out. But it is much effort, you see. I had planned to
stay here only some days, not the weeks it would take for development."
"We can pay!"
"Joan, shut up, he's trying to play us." I said. "You said a flat fee. What happened to that?"
"That, well, given the extreme circumstances..."
I glared.
"...alright, how about this. I know. You get me some of the cave
beasts. I will work it out from there. No, no extra payment." he
groaned, "as long as I receieve the materials."
"OK, great! Heka, I'll get our stuff. Let's just meet by the cave mouth." Joan ran off before I could call him back.
"Nez, how do you feel?" I asked a moment later.
"Heh. Like shit. Joan's still an idiot, though." he whispered. "Doc, if you want extra, you should just tell us upfront."
"Look, now, I may exaggerate a bit, but the fact is that you are poisoned."
"Yeah, by a fucking spider. That's knockout poison, not killing poison, doc. I wan't born yesterday."
"That may be, but in your circumstances, with the wounding..." Cal-ed sighed.
"Please, Miss Heka. Go with your friend. It is just another quest for
you adventurers. Let a poor medicine seller have a few research
materials."
I smiled, pushed a sigil onto him, and summoned the spiders.