As they trudged along the brook, the hills finally flattened into a kind of broken terrain. Jonas checked his location with the Labyrinth’s descriptor and found that the name had indeed changed to Virman Marshes. The area was peppered with very shallow puddles of stagnant water and low brushes. They also had met and fought three more of the minion cats and one normal-sized version. The single beasts were no match for the team, now that they were used to the new skills that came with their Professions.

They dutifully collected more Labyrinth equipment from each critter, although one of the minions was a mild surprise in terms of Labyrinth gifts.

 

 

Jonathan ended being put in charge of storing some of the former attire of the team that they’d all been carrying tied and laced everywhere they could. He quickly protested as his brand new bag was immediately filled to capacity.

“We may need to discard our old clothes,” Jonas said.

“What? But those are my best clothes,” Guss protested.

“You’re lucky none of the cats ripped yours,” he said, looking at the ragged edges of his jacket from the veteran’s assault. The clothes that Ira had yet to replace by chainmail were also heavily torn by claws and teeth, but most of the team had escaped that fate.

“The Labyrinth is giving us new ones. Professional ones. They seem more durable.”

“Well, if you want my opinion, those durable Professional items are pretty poor looking,” Guss grumbled, to the obvious amusement of Laura.

“We should try to tackle bigger cats, they give better stuff. Look at Ira’s new boots. They have more of that Defence rating value than any of the starter items we got from the minion cats,” Jonathan pragmatically said.

Laura had an additional basic priority to offer.

“We should also try to see if we can find more food. We skipped lunch, and while I can go on some time, we’re going to need dinner at one point. This may not be the same hard work as the cloth mill, but if you don’t have food in your belly, you’re good for not much.”

 

Jonathan was the one who spotted the somewhat dishevelled beast on the other bank of the small brook.

“Not a cat this time.”

 

 

“Not too much of a challenge still,” Ira said, assessing the vitals.

As if to put the lie to the assertion, the hog raised his snout, grunted and started to paw the ground. He then charged across the shallow brook, running at hog speed and slamming into the Defender, who nearly fell over from the hit. The rest of the team fell into the routine of combat immediately, which didn’t differ much from their cats' fights. The hog repeatedly butted Ira with its blunt head, inflicting what would normally be devastating bruises, while his tusks tried to and sometimes found purchase, leaving a steady trail of damage notices, for which Guss regularly paused in his hitting on the wild hog to erase from Ira’s health levels.

Six against one left no doubt to the final outcome.

 

Young Marsh Tusker: 249XP/6 contributors = 41XP

 

The result was the usual piece of basic gear, a pair of plain leather trousers. And this time, the hog’s decomposition left behind two pieces that were definitively not equipment for the six:

 

 

 

“Well, that’s more food, and better-looking. We might get a meal this evening,” Jonas said.

“We still need more. I don’t fancy having an empty belly at night. There were many times where it was hard when I was a young’un, but I think these days should remain long gone,” Alton said.

Jonas looked in the distance. A cat was ambling far away on the right bank, but there were hoof tracks on the left bank of the small brook.

“Don’t know about you, but I think we’ll have a better chance with the hogs than the cats. If we get more meat or roots, we’ll make a decent meal yet.”

 

Nobody seemed to disagree, so they went left, keeping the brook in view as their guide. And sure enough, Jonas quickly spotted a group of three hogs.

 

 

 

“Ok, Ira’s going to catch the attention of the big tusker, and we deal with the rest fast, just like we did with those 2 cats,” Jonas suggested.

“They’re weaker, shouldn’t be a problem,” Jonathan opined.

As they got closer, the bigger hog raised his head, sensing the approach of the group. The beast smashed his hoof on the ground as an intimidation gesture before charging the closest person, who did happen to be Ira. The little piggies followed suit, grunting.

Jonas threw one of his Flame Bolts at the closest small piglet, who stopped charging toward Ira and went instead for the annoyance that just had singed his fur. Unfortunately for the hog as he came close, a second Flame Bolt hit him, and then, he found itself surrounded by 4 other people who simply wailed on it. In two rounds of hits and slashes, the piglet squealed and fell lifeless on the ground.

Jonas had no idea how the Labyrinth gauged the effectiveness of their action to reflect them in terms of notifications, but at least the fire spells did do more to drop the health than the weapons, as he’d have expected. Not much, but still. According to the damage values shown, Alton’s old knife seemed to be more effective, despite having no Labyrinth descriptor.

Jonas didn’t waste time and fired again a Flame Bolt at the snout of the second piglet that was trying to gore Ira’s chainmail legs with his small tusks, while the rest moved closer. The piglet didn’t last longer than the first, then it was time to focus on the bigger boar.

 

3 Marsh Tuskers: 465XP/6 contributors = 77XP

 

“This isn’t that hard.”

“Told you the pigs were easier than those cats.”

“Says the man who simply hits them with his little sword,” Ira replied to Jonathan, massaging his bruised legs under the chainmail.

Once Guss used his skills to top his health total, Ira straightened out.

“The good thing about that magical healing is that you don’t even have a trace. If someone had told me I’d spend the day getting repeatedly attacked by giant cats and wild pigs yesterday, I’d have called him daft.”

Jonas snorted, and the rest laughed lightly.

“It’s probably going to get a habit. This is like being a soldier, maybe?” Guss mused.

All of them winced simultaneously. Being a soldier – or a sailor – was something you did by mistake and regretted very much after, or so it was said. In a way, they had had as little choice in becoming Professionals as any poor sod who’d found himself outward bound to some distant place in the Caribbean or Southern Americas after a night’s binge.

They sorted through the carcasses as they started to melt. As usual, each beast had dropped a piece of equipment, but the only tusker to have useable food was one piglet who left a marsh root. Jonas wondered if that came from being stuck over its mouth… or from inside its stomach.

Better not to dwell on it overmuch, he thought.

Once cleaned a bit, the root went into Jonathan’s bag, and then they sorted out the equipment. This time, there was a small wand, called a focus on its descriptor.

 

 

Jonas was about to give it to their Mender again when the man said no.

“Keep it. Cousin Luther said there’s quite a bunch of useful skills for an Aetherist, and you only have one. Besides, at the rate we’re finding equipment, I’ll have something to use pretty soon anyway,” Guss shrugged.

“Okay. Worst case, we swap?”

The rest of the equipment consisted of a leather belt that wasn’t a weapon holder like the previous one and a pair of gloves. By consensus, the gloves went to Alton Raby and the belt to Jonathan. It didn’t entirely match his brand “new” trousers, but it did fit well with the rest.

 

 

As they moved along the small river in the marshes, Laura spotted a slightly more colourful bush to the side. She rushed there while the rest stared at her. Then Jonas figured out what the colours meant.

“That’s fruits. Berries. Food,” he said.

That was the first time they’d seen any. The rest of the group rushed the same bush, joining Laura. The bush was quickly stripped bare.

 

 

Despite having lots of individual berries, the Labyrinth description that appeared as they collected them only updated if they held enough berries together. Apparently, a single berry didn’t count as a food “unit”, they needed a dozen and a half before it counted as something. Jonas noticed quickly that they had harvested exactly 72 berries or a total of 4 lots from the bush. The coincidence in numbers probably… wasn’t.

Jonas flipped one in his mouth and found that it was indeed slightly sour, but very juicy once it broke in his mouth.

 

 

The sun was going low. Alton was the first to remark on it.

“We probably need to make some camp.”

“We’ve got nothing for that.”

“There’s bushes and small trees. We can make some fire.”

“With what?” Jonathan asked.

Ira pointed out Jonas.

“We have someone who can now throw some fire from his fingertips. Should be easy to start.”

The group quickly dispersed to gather some wood and brought back bundles of small branches and twigs. Jonathan dug a small depression in the soft soil, they dropped some of their wood and Jonas focused with his hand toward the pile. For a second, he worried that it wouldn’t work without an enemy target, but the flame ball came out and smashed rather forcefully into the wood.

“Woops.”

“Don’t worry. It caught, that’s what’s important,” Alton said.

During the afternoon, they’d spotted and killed half a dozen lone Tuskers, including a veteran. More gear, another bag from the veteran – this time a practical waist pouch – and two more pieces of boar meat, along with several roots. Alton and Laura ended up piercing the four meat pieces they had with the straightest wood twigs they could find. They handed the improvised skewers to Jonas and Guss and all four started to hold the meat over the campfire, while the roots were placed at the edge of the fire to cook.

 

Guss was the first to break the silence while turning his slice.

“We’re making progress if you believe the text descriptors. We are nearly at full experience.”

“What do you think happens,” Laura asked him.

Jonas thought for a while, as Guss didn’t seem to have an immediate answer.

“I think we gain a level. It’s placed next to the level counters, so I guess it makes sense. And we should gain more of the health, endurance and the rest since that’s what the profession descriptor says we get per level.”

“So we get better,” she said.

“So we get better. That’s how Professionals do it, I think. Guss?”

“Hmmm? Yea. I think. Cousin Luther is talking about how he was levelling all the time.”

Silence fell again.

“How do we divide the meat? There are roots and berries for everyone to go with it, but only 4 slices. Anyone wants some cat?” Alton asked.

Seeing the faces of everyone brought a small chuckle from him.

“Dibs on the cat, then. I’ll let you guys fight on those boar meat slices.”

“How can you eat cat? I mean, it’s awfully…” started Laura.

“Gamy? I’ll let you know how it compares to London cat,” replied Alton.

“You know about the taste of… London cats? Yeech,” Jonathan exclaimed.

Alton kept silent for a few seconds before starting.

“I grew in Jacob’s Island.”

 

Most of everyone around the fire had heard of Jacob’s Island, of course. There might be worse places in London, but even Jonas’s birthplace of Covent Garden was well off compared to that notorious slum.

“Got out one day, but that’s where I learned to keep a knife on me all times. Sometimes you’d get people trying to snatch you out of the street and sell you out for the worst jobs. I grew up rat catcher, then pure finder.”

The distaste on everyone’s face was obvious, even with the fading light and the mere flickers of the fire. Jonas always tried not to think about where the source of the tanning on the leather at his master’s shop originally came from. Only the poorest of London collected dejections for a living.

“Then as I said, I got out. Found myself a gang, and graduated to a lookout. While we snatched stuff behind stores and shops, I slinked everywhere. Was good at it for a while. But coppers caught the gang once in the act and broke it up. I went solo after, making my way up.”

“You’re… a thief?” Laura asked.

“I only picked what others discard. There are lots if you’re good at finding. Not like mudlarks. I’m poor, but I get by. And I’m lots better than back at Jacob. That’s why I was at the Queen’s gardens. You wouldn’t guess what people drop on the ground and not notice.”

Nobody wanted to pursue further. Jonas would never have guessed Alton was a poor boy and scavenger. His clothing was basic and well-mended, not that ragged or dirty. If he had to guess, he’d have been betting on some poor worker in one of the varied workshops in London, not a half-vagrant without a regular job.

He might be a lowly leatherworker apprentice, but compared to Alton’s life, his was a dozen times better and upper-class.

The circumstances soured the conversation, and it ended up pretty much there. Jonas focused back on the slowly cooking meat skewer, wondering how the day had completely changed their fates. Apprentice, spinner, clerk, scavenger, serving boy – he still had no idea what job Jonathan did – from London and now apparently brand new Professionals. Lost ones.

 

They all chewed on their food. They’d ended up dividing the meat more or less equally, with a surprisingly sweet-tasting root, and a handful of the berries. It wasn’t the greatest of meals, but it was still filling.

After that, they found a use for their old clothes, using them over dirt as sleeping mats.

Before drifting to sleep, Jonas had a thought. Maybe they should have someone stand watch, in case some beast wandered on their camp. But it was far too late for that, and with the thought, he closed his eyes and somehow instantly fell asleep despite everything.