Frost. Ice. Cold.
I've tried to think warm thoughts but to no avail. We've been walking for a while now, and the sub-zero temperature is starting to seep in through the thighs of my winter-overalls, chilling me to the core. My face and fingers are long since numb from the long hours of tracking through the sleet, the gloves and windmask only able to withstand the elements for so long.
I've got to keep moving, i've got to keep moving...
I look ahead to my travel companions. Sergeant Amelia is taking point with Fenrik Elin a little ways behind her, their white uniforms and black cape clearly marking both of them as officers in the Council Armed Forces. The rest of their crew keeps a perimiter around us civilians, making sure no-one gets lost when visibility hits the single digits. I do a quick look around, my eyes finding Emil on the right side of the group before i focus again on the path before me.
It's always a boon to be heading the same way as a squad of hunters or scouts, no need to pay a guide for protection. Not that anyone in the group can't defend themselves against wolves or bears, but that ain't exactly the prime concern anymore.
“Spider beasts, 10 o'clock!” one of the scouts yells out to the left.
Oh by the gods damn us.
No-one needs a second confirmation. Sore and tired muscle is brought to immediate action, sprinting and readying weapons as we form into a loose battle-formation. The noise of people coordinating and getting into formation is soon mirrored by the sound of rapidly approaching movement. A smaller group of people would have tried hiding as an initial means of defense: Seek shelter, stand still, stay silent.
We have eight armsfolk and ten civilians. We don't have that luxury.
I've seen depictions of adult spider beasts before. Bodies covered in white fur, single red eye on a coal-black face, eight long bare clay-gray legs ending in sharp points. But what is lumbering into view is not that. Multiple eyes adorns the black face-plate in a ring. Either the others have seen this kind before, or they are not as fazed by it as I, for immediately the air is filled with gunfire. I check my first-aid kit is safely secured, and I tighten my grip on my stave. I see eastern mages call upon aspects of their luontos. I will have to make do knowing my fylgja is with me.
Someone shouts “Contact!” as the first critters come into melee, the short-legged babies of the beast flock. I lock eyes with the other two shield-mages and we project a simple barrier. The small ones don't take a lot of bullets to kill, but there's a lot of them, so anything we can do to keep the front-line clean and cohesive. As I think that I see one of the armsfolk break formation and charge into the horde swinging a massive axe. Axel, I think his name is? The one with the massive wolf as a pet, which currently is following his lead and is leaping into the oncoming onslaught, tearing into beasts all the while.
The larger spider beasts reach our group a moment later, and we have to drop the barrier to focus on the damage of the big ones. The small ones were never truly prevented from getting through, and a few had jumped in amongt us and been dealt with, but with the wards down they now stream in as chaos erupts. We don't have a choice, though, as the spear-like legs of the fully-grown monsters starts raining down upon the soldiers. The others and I reach out to meet them, round opaque divine shields preventing the impalers from finding their mark, like each soldier is carrying a personal force-field generator that only works on larger attacks.
Flame shoots out to meet them, from flame-throwers and fire-mage alike, catching on the beasts' fur. The first of the adults crumble to the ground right as the two large multi-eyed specimens reach us. If the small critters are kids, and the normal big ones are adults, then these are the grand-parents. Elders, ancients, whatever you want to call them. They look around four to five people tall, easily over eight meters, and for their size and mass the move fast. Another one of the shield-mages go to preempt its strike and its sharpened appendage goes right through it, shattering the shield into orange fragments that fade in the wind and giving the soldier a large gash in the shoulder.
Oh no.
I try with all my might to shield them from the next attack. A pair of legs slam down and I will the barrier to hold. As the unstoppable force meets the immovable object, the object loses. The shield holds but force of the attack sends the person flying into the one next to them, like they were a marble hit at an odd angle. The battle is total pandemonium by now. Droves of critters lie dead in the snow but more keep coming. Several adults are on fire, a few more have been killed by convential gunfire. But nothing seems to have more than irritated the two largest beasts, until one of the red eyes goes pop.
I look over to see another of the so-called civillians, in the midsts of all the chaos, standing calmly with their marksman's rifle to their shoulder and aiming up into the face of the giant beast. Pop, pop, pop. A few more eyes go, and the beast stumbles back, screaming in pain from an unseen mouth. He ducks out of the way as it retaliates, and more riflers take after his initiative. The tide of the battle turns as the first ancient tumbles to the ground, still alive and flailing but blind.
The other of the giant spiders go into a rage. There isn't any other way to describe it. It lets out a roar, even more fearsome and thunderous than even the cries of pain of the first one. Its already impressive speed doubles, and in a blur it is over by the other one with a leg sticking through the marksman who initiated the fall of its partner. It raises not one or two but four more of its eight legs, ready to maim this person beyond recognition. It is a chilling display of intelligence for a being so intent on nothing but our destruction.
There is but a fraction of a moment to act, and I feel the presence of my happenstance colleagues. For a split second I see the two other shield-amges, their fylgja standing beside them, an ibex and a bear, the world dark but for a large rune covering the ground of the battlefield. Then the moment is gone and I'm back to reality. The spiky legs come down, striking towards the pinned helpless combatant. And hit hard air that sends a wave of energy back up into it and sends the thing scrambling. Each time it in rapid succession brings its legs to the ground for purchase and stability, it hits a slick invisible barrier, like it is standing on top of a giant ice dome.
The second ancient topples to the ground with a reverberating thunk. Each of them are dealt with in turn, much more easily now they are on the ground. All the adults lie smouldering. Without their parents, the last of the small beasts scatter back where they came from. People fire after them as they run, but no-one is in any shape to go charge after them to actually finish them off.
I rush over to the young man we shielded and pull off my first-aid kit. The beast pulled its leg out as it fell, trying to right itself, and blood is pouring from the wound as he lies there. He seems at wits still, so I tell him “Take off your coat so we can bandage your wound,” exhaustion grasping at my words. He doesn't seem to understand, confusion evident in his eyes between the pained blinks, grunts and yelps. “Someone help me with this one” I yell out to the group, but already a slightly older guy in an identical outfit is running towards us. Between us we get the coat off, and the undershirt lifted up to reveal the wound. Looking at where he got struck, it seems he got lucky as far as I can tell: Too low to hit a lung, too high to hit an organ. At least I think so, I don't really know too much about this. Before going for the bandage, I do a quick sanity-check: I press both hands against the wound, close my eyes and pray. After that display, I am tapped of all I had, but I am desperate with adrenaline and I try regardless. A moment later, just as I am about to give up, I feel a wave leave my fingers. The tiniest feeling, going deep within the body I press on and slightly stitching it together. Blood keeps pouring out, but i'm not waiting around for a third miracle, those two will have to do. With the older guy's help I start to field-dress the wound as best I can, a medic from the armsfolk soon coming to take over and finish the job professionally. As the shirt is pulled back down over the bandages and the coat is put back on, I say to the older of the two “I hope that holds until we get to the next stop”. He looks me in the eyes with gratitude. “Thank you for your help” he says, before gently nudging the younger one, instructing: <Lalli, say thank you, it's polite>. He mutters a barely audible <Thank you>.
Oh, old universal. That's why he didn't understand me.
After him, I patch up everybody else who needs it. Surprisingly, Axel and his wolf both seem to have survived the encounter, not that I'd hoped to see him gone. In fact, most folks seems to have made it through alright. One of the merchants and one of the armsfolk lie dead on the ground as our only fatalities, their friends placing the corpses on top of the sled. Here is not the place nor the time to bury them, we can do that when we get to the next stop on our journey.
We take a short rest, get the wind back in everybody. Then we march. There isn't anything else to do. Seems awfully anti-climatic to have just been in a life-or-death situation and then go right back to do what you did before: Endless walking the frozen hills, navigating the cliffs and falls, keep putting one foot in front of the other. This time however, we don't have to go too long. Only a small hour later, we get our glimmer of hope.
”Fenrik, ma'am,” the sergeant calls out to Elin as she stops near the top of the hill. She points off to beyond as the leader of the group joins her, and i must imagine a smile crossing the fenrik's lips as she turns back to the rest of us still climbing up. ”Nearly there everybody, just this hill and the next one before we're there,” she announces, encouraging us forward with the promise of respite close at hand. Though most are too wrapped up in the process of climbing to cheer at the news, the change in energy is palpable, and as people make their way to flatter ground and a clear view the first ”Woo!”s and ”Yeah!”s can be heard alongside a few relieved chuckles and claps. As i crest the ridge, it certainly is a sight for sore eyes.
Before us is a mountain cut in twain, horizontally. The terrain prepares for there to be a mountain, the steepness of the ground on the opposite side of the valley quickly and evenly increasing until it is nearly vertical before it just stops. Where the suggested rest of the structure should be it simply isn't, just a flat top stretching out as far as the eye can see before visibility is swallowed by ice-fog. Featureless save for the snow and ice upon it, it is a stark contrast to its natural-looking stone sides: A rough hewn quaterpipe off the side of a seemingly endless plateau.
I can't wait to get inside.
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mod's note: this is an unfinished midsection where storyline branches have been trimmed
Get into the base, heal up.
Get some dialogue with Emil, it's revealed him and I interacted earlier on in the trip, became sort of friends.
The fact I helped Lalli gets him and Onni to open up to me, helps that I speak the language, get some dialogue with them.
Set out on the final leg of the journey.
Arriving at the jouney's distination, the City of Hunger, I can't find a job.
The story resumes in a cafeteria.
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I desperately try and retry to buy a cola as a voice rings out, “That won't work. Those are the dispensers for drink-combos, you need to insert your receipt first”.
“Huh, what?” I respond, and turn to face the man at the table. His blond hair and mutton-chops are well-kept and frame his stocky face: warm eyes and an amused smile without coming off as smug. “What receipt?” I muster, unprepared that anyone would talk to me and only undertanding the words of his sentence, not what they mean together.
“Those are the discounted prices for if you've bought a meal. If you're just buying soda in a bottle, there's vending machines back in the hall,” he elaborates, before taking another large bite out of one of his several burgers. He has them in a pile in front of him on the table, with handful of empty wrappings to the side evident of his progress so far, and a dispenced soda in a cup evident of his expertise on the matter at hand.
“Oh,” I mutter, slightly embarassed. I quickly go get a soda and return back.
“Thanks. What's your name? I'm new in town,” I say as I plop down next to him.
“No worries. Mikkel, Mikkel Madsen. What are you in town for?”.
I sip my soda, mulling over how to phrase it, before settling on a sigh followed by: “I wanted to see the world. My family all have been to Sunter-town, or the Frezing Towers, or at least a Council base. I felt it was my turn”.
“I see. So what are you doing here while you're here?” he asks.
I can only shake my head, “I haven't found a job yet. You'd think folk around here would jump at an extra set of hands, seems not. Maybe I should have stayed back at the farm”.
He raises an eye-brow, “You're a farmboy? We could use someone to help move supplies. Crates and barrels of food and equipment, that sort of thing. The boss is this old lady, she'd love to have you on”.
I am ecstatic, and can barely contain myself, “Really? That's awesome! Thank you thank you thank you thank you...”, before he cuts me off.
“Calm down, it's alright. Here, have one, then we'll see about you getting introduced,” he says as he slides one of the last paper-wrapped burgers over to me. I happily oblige.
The rest of the day goes pretty much like that. I meet the boss, who's in her late 60's or so. She doesn't seem very happy with Mikkel, but is more than happy to have another to help out. They show me around, explaining the work there is to be done. Basic warehouse job, but since the entire building is a Council outpost, there isn't some private depot we work in; The job is to take stuff from the loading and unloading area down on the ground floor, load it onto a cart and take it in the elevator up here, then bring it to where-ever along the halls or corridors of the nearby floors it's going to.
The work is hard for the most part, but i've helped out around the farm since I was I child so it's not too bad. The ride up and down in the lift is long enough to give a bit of a break between the hauls, so that's nice too. I work paired up with Mikkel, and thank the gods for that. Otherwise, I would never have been able to find my way around the building, this place is labyrinthine! I slowly start picking up on it though, getting to know the floors, remebering what store's where. Little by little over a couple of months I get to know my bearings. One afternoon though, standing in the hallway moving crates off of cart for the last delivery of the day, we're just about to finish when something unexpected happens.
“You two!” A tall, red-haired hunter captain shouts, pointing in our direction. “You're handy with manual labour, what's your names?” Mikkel finishes offloading his current heap with one last swing, then leans on the handle of the cart. “Mikkel Madsen” he says, and I quickly follow with “Reynir Arnason, ma'am”. She energetically exclaims: “I like you two's energy. I need a few extra people to scout out a site in the mountains to the north-east. The pay's well, what do you say?”
The mountains to the north-east, isn't that place crawling with troll-beasts?...
“We're in,” Mikkel says before I can even process the objection. “Great!” The captains says and slaps an arm on each of our backs. “My name's Sigrun. This is Admiral Olsen, he's the coordinator for the mission. Let's go to General Anderson, get you outfitted with some gear!”.
Back at the farm, i'd thought just getting here and seeing what the city had to offer would be my adventure. But as the gods would have it, our adventures together had just begun. I even knew a pair of folks who'd be the perfect candidates for a scout and a mage.
The end.
mod's note: For now
