Olrica
Gatehouse Barricade, Meteo City
"Olrica, left side, handle it," Harn Terr orders, firing a shot into the huge quantity of Pathetic Graspers that are rushing the barricade, creepy demonic humanoids of varying sizes that are constructed entirely out of haphazardly fused together human hands, and lacking anything resembling a head.
Flicking my head to the left, I see a pair of Unstable Feathertearers shuffling towards us, inky-black bird-headed men, dripping the viscous black goop in thick droplets with each step. They're an elite variant of Subjugated Citizens, created by one of the minibosses supposedly camping out in Tridor Plaza, The Scavenger.
The moment they're in range of their target, they explode, killing any poor bastard caught too close to the epicentre and heavily damaging anyone caught on the edges of the blast radius. My job is to pop them before they reach us, since they're weirdly resistant to ranged damage sources. Most arrows and spells aimed their way get nabbed by tendrils just melt into the bird head, which is just weird. Also weirdly familiar feeling, but I'm trying not to think about that too hard.
Vaulting a large crate, I push off directly into a sprint, daggers out and primed to attack. The heads and necks of these things are protected by that demonic black goop, so my target is instead their hearts. Reaching the slow-moving suicide bomber mobs, I skid to a halt behind the closest and stab them through the shoulderblade with a Backstab enhanced strike from my Terrorstone Dagger for 2.5x damage. No crit, but enough to one-shot the bastard.
Congratulations, your party has defeated an Unstable Feathertearer!
Awarding 55 experience.
The second one will be a little trickier since it's now aggroed onto me. Ideally, I'd take them both out simultaneously, but staggered like this I can't pull that off. Naturally, trying to approach while it's targeting me will lead to instantaneous death as it happily blows up in my face like a...you know I'm not going to finish that metaphor.
Just as well I'm a Scout, then, because activating Camouflage immediately causes it to reset to the original target, now that I'm no longer discernable to it's paltry senses. Not a trick that would work on the Menial Soulcagers that patrol around and attack the barricade periodically, since they're like those Shards of Terror from Miner's Nightmare and have passive stealth detection or something.
I casually walk over to the unaware Feathertearer and plunge my main knife through it's ribcage, and my offhand blade tearing open it's stomach.
Congratulations, your party has defeated an Unstable Feathertearer!
Awarding 55 experience.
They don't give shit for experience, but we earn contribution points for every monster we kill that can be exchanged for Empire of Stone reputation and personal Fame, so orders from high are to farm'em for a while then push for the minibosses later.
"Olrica, northeast, more of them!" Harn Terr calls out as I approach.
I sigh. This is going to be annoying, but we're changing shifts with the Pavillion of Myriad Dao in about ten minutes as part of the agreement Hadrian cooked up, so at least there's that.
"I'll need a hand, Trellis, my shit's on cooldown," I beckon the dual-wielding swordsman.
"Understood," He bisects a Grasper and starts to make his way over when the door to the gatehouse opens, the Lieutenant walking out of the city with his main lackeys, causing everyone not directly engaged in combat to take note.
"Scratch that," I say, "I'm gonna go see what that's about, take care of business for me."
Sheveret Troop Encampment, Fander Field
If Hadrian was paranoid about Silver before, oh boy, turning up outside the city with the Sheveret Troop has his dual superiority and persecution complex going into overdrive trying to rationalise how and why this 'no-name' is beating his progression speed and information network, as if he's god's gift to Astral Reckoning and the only one allowed to make something of themselves.
I mean, if I believe what Silver said, there's really nothing unusual about losing to a guy who claims to be some kind of time traveller, but I'm not really about to tell him that, am I? Maybe before this...whatever got shoved in my head I'd have maybe hinted at it to Hadrian to see what kind of reaction he'd have but, honestly, the asshole can keep spinning his wheels for all I care. Once my contract expires, I'm looking for a new job. Tired of his whiny pretentious bullshit.
Honestly, the rest of us hirelings aren't too impressed either, from what I've seen - but they're more embedded with his company than I am as an outsider, so they've got other concerns. Namely, keeping his parents happy.
"-rica!"
I blink, then turn to Hadrian, who's fuming face is aimed right at me, "Yeah?"
"You've had the most interactions with him out of any of us, is there anything he's done or said that would explain this frankly ludicrous progression speed?"
I blink, then lie through my teeth, "Nope. Beta tester maybe? Iunno."
"At least try to take this matter seriously," Hadrian clenches his fists, "I - We - can't afford to fail, or need I remind you?"
"So, what, you wanna make an enemy of him now?" I raise an eyebrow, "I'm sure that will work out fantastically with the lead they have on us. And that gap is only going to get bigger, let's face it."
"You think us incapable of killing four people?" Hadrian sweeps his arm across the dozen of us, kitted out in a mix of Bronze and Copper gear at Level 8, "His victory over Terrible Titans was impressive, but we aren't some random fucking thugs, are we? No, we're better than that, and better than them."
Yeah, you say that...but if that's the case, why're you bitching about how we're in second place? Dumbass.
His sycophants smile and nod along, boosting his ego, "I won't allow them to continuously reap benefits ahead of us. I don't know what possessed Silver to go on some random stroll through Ujax Forest with those Wolf Hunt idiots instead of the Event that he very obviously went out of his way to start, but we can't miss this opportunity."
"I think it would be prudent to investigate what exactly it is they're doing," Generous Morning suggests calmly, "It's rather suspicious behaviour considering that up until now, Silver has never made any move when there was no profit to be had."
At least someone's using their brain.
"You think that the next part of their Quest is taking place in Ujax Forest?" Harn Terr asks.
"Unlikely, but whatever the truth is, it must be important for Silver to prioritise it," Generous Morning speculates.
Hadrian nods along, "Good catch. But it's a little late to send anyone after them."
"Not all the members of Wolf Hunt left. A few that are considered officers in the organisation still remain in the vicinity to oversee the rank and file," she informs us, "Depending on how confidential the information is, we may only need to ask politely."
"Very well," Hadrian agrees with his exterior brain, "Olrica, get on it. I want the information in no more than an hour."
I give a mock salute, "Yeah, sure. Back soon."
At least it's an excuse to leave.
I push out of Rambling Rose's tent - a concession negotiated with the Captain NPC for aid in the whole demon invasion thing - and past the crowd of jealous onlookers who are decidedly tent-less. If I recall, Wolf Hunt should be camped out over by the quartermaster NPC to the southern end of the encampment.
I'll stop by to get my knives repaired along the way.
Henna
The crude coal forge and small anvil set up for Henna's use in order to assist the Troop Armourer, Hicks, in meeting the demand for repairs from the displaced adventurers are barely up to the task, but the smith turned warrior in training doesn't mind, relishing the opportunity to work metal again, and the secondary benefit of being able to observe another, more skilled smith work the craft, though the difference between them may not be vast, it's still educational.
Hicks' attitude towards her could be considered cold by most, but for anyone familiar with the ideals and cultural identity of the Empire of Stone, particularly those in the military, one would understand that it is anything but rude. Rather, it is purely utilitarian and formed from an unspoken understanding between the two smiths not to get in the other's way and to get the work done in a timely, efficient manner.
Henna, as an ordinary citizen who's interactions with the Empire's military and law-keeping officials consisted of corrupt, thuggish patrolmen constantly looking for an excuse to string her up on some charge or another, ignoring her pleas for help finding her missing father when the abduction was still fresh on her mind; and wholly apathetic, lazy sentries supposedly guarding the city's walls against outside threats while tacitly ignoring the abundance of smugglers and other disreputable folks entering the city with minimal inspections so long as they had sufficient documentation, found the Sheveret Troop to be a rather refreshing change of pace, and both the armourer and quartermaster to be exemplary of the Empire of Stone soldier - stout, hard-working and ill-given to idle chatter while duty calls.
Inspecting the freshly sharpened axe in her hands for flaws in the grinding process, Henna nods with satisfaction and hands it over to the armoured for approval. Glancing at the edge, he wordlessly passes it back to it's owner, then turns to her, "I'll go get more coal from the Quartermaster. Watch the forge while I'm gone."
"Ok," Henna agrees simply, eyeing the nearly empty sack of coal lying next to the fireproofed tent wall. Poor quality coke that doesn't last long in the forge, crumbling in mere minutes. Perhaps not an issue for short excursions when reforging maybe half a dozen broken blades, but with hundreds of people in the past few hours alone, it is clearly insufficient.
Hicks turns smartly on his heel and all-but marches out of the tent, leaving her alone with the smell of grass and greasy coal smoke.
Closing her eyes, Henna returns to the mental exercise she'd been putting herself through in the past few days since her last lesson with Silver, sublimating the process of wielding a sword into her mind until she reached a point where she felt it was no different from swinging her hammers at a piece of cherry-red iron.
Before she can enter a state of heightened focus however, an anxious cough interrupts her cogitation and rouses her to full awareness once more. A little irritated, Henna opens her eyes with a hard expression that softens ever so slightly upon recognising the red-headed woman at the entrance.
"Hey, um...Henna..." she greets awkwardly.
Henna bows her head mildly, "Hello. You're the one who assisted Silver in freeing me from my imprisonment, I recall. Thanks for that."
"Y-yeah, that was...that was me! heh heh..." the woman scratches at her cheek, "I need my...err...daggers. Repaired."
Handing the pair of knives over, Henna's attention is caught by the Terrorstone Dagger, "This..."
Olrica bites her lip, feeling an extreme sense of deja vu, just as she did when she first laid eyes on it.
"You like it?" she asks, conflicted yet amused all the same.
Not answering her directly, Henna places the other dagger on the anvil and inspects the Terrorstone Dagger against the afternoon sun from the tent flap, twisting this way and that. Her inspection is short, however, already being familiar with larger examples in the form of Silver's Terrorsteel Horrorblade and the Feardrinker Shortsword she herself had forged.
"No," the smith shakes her head, "It's crude work, even by my own crap standards, but the material's still as fascinating as the first example I saw."
"I see," Olrica responded blandly, feeling oddly robbed of something.
"But yes, I can resharpen these for you, for free at that," Henna pays her emotional state no mind, "Consider it a small dent in the debt I owe ya."
"You...don't have to owe me anything," Olrica mutters, feeling burdened.
Henna sports the ghost of a smile, "Wouldn't feel right not to give back summat."
The Scout frowns deeply, "Rather than that...I'd like...to be your friend. If that's ok?"
Henna considers it, "If you mean to befriend me, how's about teaching me a little of how you fight sometime?"
She hits upon an idea that Silver came up with about getting experience with multiple styles of combat and different weapons. Knives may not be something she felt especially attracted by, but she trusted Silver to know what he was doing and decided to take the initiative in securing another teacher for herself. Since Olrica was already closely acquainted with him, Henna felt it would be a good choice.
Olrica blinks, a little stunned, but recovers, "Well, I can certainly try. Can't hurt to know how to defend yourself."
The smith offers her free hand, and the pair clasp palms in agreement. The more things change, the more they stay the same, Silver would likely think if he were present.
