Chapter 10: Road-Trip

 

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Our lord is out of sorts today. The Shailen stock has taken a hit, and we’re nearly depleted. A choicer gift is required to ease his fury, lest we all fall victim to his wrath.

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“Well, that’s perfect! I was going to tell you, I was going there next week anyways, and I’ve been meaning to bring Ryan along,” Huck said, ladling soup into a bowl for Logan, who took it appreciatively and sat at the roughhewn wooden table in the middle of the room.

 

He pushed his toes into the fur carpet, wiggling them absently.

 

“Tarik,” Ryan said, mulling the word over appreciatively like a child beholds a new toy. “We’re really going?” he said.

 

“If the weather holds, which I ‘spect it will, yeah. There’s a lot to see and do there, and for a young man like you, a lot to learn,” Huck said, tussling Ryan’s hair and pushing his head around playfully.

 

There are vendors there, tradesmen, merchants, armorers; I should be able to clear my inventory at least. With luck I can find a good armorer and get some upgrades, Logan thought, thinking of his haphazard attempt at leather armor that he’d made from Brightspine boar hide and rabid rabbit pelt.

 

It didn’t exactly fit him, and even after only a few weeks the stitching was beginning to tear and fray. But even if they did find better armor and weaponry… would it be enough? There were no true swordsmen in the village, no soldiers, or mercenaries from which to learn, so his education in fighting was purely experiential, the result of his experimentation and instinct. He felt confident, however.

 

He woke early in the morning to train for an hour on his own, moving through forms and techniques that felt right to him, before leaving for the forest with Ryan. In the evenings he practiced calisthenics and meditation. This lifestyle wasn’t exactly new to him, but his habits were far more consistent now than they ever had been on Earth. There were few distractions in Woolam; it was a quiet town, centered around the mines where Huck worked, and the night life was nonexistent.

 

On top of all of that, what he did or failed to do on his own directly contributed to how effective he’d be in combat, and, he suspected, how fast he’d grow. What he wouldn’t give for a gym.

 

“Perhaps we could recruit help in Tarik? Are there any sell swords there, or adventurers, maybe?” Logan asked.

 

“There may be a few men willing to fight for coin, but no adventurers. There’s nothing to bring them this far south; the forest is mostly unexplored, I reckon the majority of ‘em would rather spend their time getting paid by more reliable means, and the Suko’s are too difficult to traverse to make the possibility of finding something there worth it,” Huck rubbed his chin.

 

“We could hire help, but from what you described of that beast we’re going after, they’ll probably turn tail and abandon us.”

 

Logan made a “humph” noise as he leaned forwards over the table and swirled his stew with the spoon.

 

“It’s worth a shot. If they run, they run, we have enough money to spare, and if this works then we’ll have more than we know what to do with,” he said, reviewing their plan in his head.

 

They’d decided to rely on Huck and Ryan’s startling proficiency with their bows, first trapping the llort in its cave with fire at the entrance, then immediately firing into the cave’s mouth with arrows while the llort, hopefully, was in a daze.

 

While they’d been crafting various ideas for killing the beast, Logan had looked into alternative uses for the items he’d accumulated from the forest hunts. He had found that the Steam Fish Blood, of which he had fifty vials, was incredibly hot to the touch, like a thick, sticky magma.

 

Touching it barehanded left vicious burns, and the substance clung to the skin like Smurf-themed Napalm. The testing that’d led to these discoveries had cost him several health potions and quite a bit of mocking from Mikey. In addition to the steam fish blood, they would use Paralytic Extract, a poison he’d occasionally looted from Rabid Rabbits, to coat their arrowheads.

 

Logan knew firsthand just how effective each of these substances were, as the memory of the burns and the ginger-like taste of the zatroot extract, the paralysis poison's only cure, were fresh in his mind.

 

With these pseudo-napalm arrows and the paralysis from the rabid rabbit poison, they hoped they’d be able to kill the llort from afar without risking a close quarters encounter. If they could recruit another archer or two and a scouting type, they’d be that much stronger for it.

 

Logan had spent the last three days since their return from the llort encounter training with a spare bow himself and had gained an archery skill for his efforts. He was nowhere near Ryan’s level, but he could shoot straight enough to be marginally useful and was confident that he could hit something as large as the towering llort that was their prey.

 

“Well,” Huck said, rising from the table, “I’ll have to ask the neighbors if they need anything before we go, and ol’ Gjorn for recommendations on where to get you suited up.”

 

He walked to the doorway then turned and smiled at Logan, noticing his brooding complexion and the atmosphere of worry about him. “Lighten up lad, this’ll be a fine adventure,” he said, turning and exiting through the door.

 

Logan reflected on the words. This is what he’d always wanted, and now he was getting cold feet?

 

We could all die, just like that, and It’d be over. This new life with all its potential snuffed out in a flash.

 

He pictured the llort, its towering shape, its muscled legs, arms, and chest, rippling with power and the promise of death. Its tusks, and the way it lifted and ate the deer right in front of them. The crunch of bone, the squelching and tearing of flesh between gnashing teeth, the blood streaking down its face and dripping from its chin. That could be them in a few days. He shuddered and felt Mikey’s attention on him.

 

The llort was the first real threat they would face, and it could go terribly wrong. It could end in disaster, but their plan was a good one. He trusted Ryan’s skill and Huck’s experience. If he backed down from the llort, he’d never be able to be the person he wanted to be, the person he sensed he had the potential to be in his new life.

 

He retired to his bedroom where he spent the next hour sorting through his inventory, separating items into those that he’d sell at the market in Tarik, and those he might find a use for elsewhere. Finally, he checked his status page.

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His focus, he recalled, had gained a point while discussing their options for dealing with the llort with Huck and Ryan. He was glad it was finally catching up to the rest of his stats, but the numbers and skills arrayed on the shimmering gray and blue screen before him seemed paltry in comparison to the llort’s level twelve. His menu and inventory seemed to be a totally subjective device imparted by Mikey, so he wasn’t sure how his stats actually stacked up against other monsters; did the llort actually have a level independent of his analyze skill, or was the number something his skill had concocted for him to get a gauge of the monster’s relative power?

 

He didn’t have a way to answer the question, so he let it go.

 

Of additional concern was his Control stat. Susie had explained Focus and Innovation, the former being his ability to focus, interpret and analyze information, and general mental acuity while the latter being, roughly speaking, his creativity. His innovation rose as he tried new tactics and techniques while fighting, experimented with items he'd looted, and otherwise pushed himself to improve.

 

His Control stat hadn't risen, no matter what he'd tried. At first he thought that it was related to self-control, but numerous discipline exercises such as cold plunges, planks and wall sits, and various other experiments yielded no improvement. He was completely stumped on what it could be, and Susie offered no insight.

 

"Control... well, humans reproduce sexually, but isn't copulation a huge part of your culture even outside of procreation? I found a whole section of the internet dedicated to you naked apes smashing your genitals together, and if I'm remembering correctly then there was an element of holding yourself back from something for the men at least. It seemed pretty important. There were whole subreddits about it!" Mikey said, reminiscing on his Company Guide Training equivalent to a sex-ed class for humans.

 

"Mikey. Dude. Why do you even know about that?"

 

"It's my job! And I'm not the one giving those sites like fifty billion views a month, clearly it's important!"

 

"Whatever. That's not what the control stat means. I refuse to believe it."

 

"I mean, I made the stats technically speaking, and if I thought it was important, then who knows, maybe it is," Mikey said, an image of him grinning mischievously and giving a half shrug appearing in Logan's mind.

 

"Master Logan, though I cannot completely determine the nature of 'Control', I can assure you that it's somehow related to your mental energy, and not, as this cosmic vessel squatter suggests, a function of physical restraint in the act of coitus."

 

"Right. Thanks Susie. Mikey, we're done talking about this. Go back to... whatever it is you do when you're gracious enough to not be bothering me."

 

"Watching the memories of your failed relationships like soap dramas? Will do!"

 

I really need to find some way to hurt that little rat, he thought, shaking his head, though the mention of his past reminded him of what he'd left behind.

 

Good riddance, he thought sourly, turning his attention to the upcoming battle.

 

Checking the preparations he’d made in his inventory, he opened the “Llort Battle” tab that he’d created in preparation for the fight.

 

Four health potions: three lesser healing potions and one potion of moderate instant recovery, some bandages and antiseptic cream that Huck had provided, and some dried fish fillets that actually had a pretty decent healing buff were all they had in the way of medical supplies.

 

He’d prepared three dozen paralytic arrows and an equivalent amount of Burning Blue Blood arrows, which they’d lovingly dubbed “Triple B’s”, with Ryan earlier, and stowed them in his inventory to be distributed later.

 

Additionally, he’d drawn rudimentary copies of his map skill onto several sheets of parchment detailing the forest, the path to the llort’s alcove, and the area surrounding the thicket for Huck, Ryan, and anyone else they might manage to recruit. These preparations, along with whatever they could purchase in Tarik, were what would determine their fate with the llort.

 

He didn’t feel terribly confident, but he dismissed his reservations and returned to the main room to find Ryan caring for his bowstring. He beckoned to Ryan; they’d go over the plan while practicing archery until Huck returned.

 

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The hot sun beat down on Logan’s uncovered head and neck as he sat atop the driver’s bench of the wagon.

 

It was a rectangular wooden contraption with four wide wheels covered by a white canvas tarp, reminding him of the numerous horse-drawn wagons he’d seen in westerns and movies about early expansion across north America. They’d rented it for two silver coins from one of Huck’s friends in the village, a “Vartas Kinderdad,” who was apparently a retired trader that now served as a member of Woolam’s Council of Elders.

 

The wagon would allow them to purchase items without arousing suspicion in the citizens of Woolam by the trio returning with new goods that they’d stored solely in Logan’s inventory.

 

During the trip, Loan picked Huck’s brain for knowledge of his life outside the southlands. It seemed limited, but anything he could gather would be immensely useful for him and his future, so he’d made use of the time spent travelling to ask all about the structure and makeup of Tiris, the name, he learned, of his new homeworld.

 

Somewhat distracting from the comfortable road-trip was the animal that pulled the wagon. Horses, Huck informed him, were not native to the southlands, and he’d only heard of them in stories from his father, Yram.

 

Instead, Rohms were used for physical labor and as beasts of burden in many capacities. Looking like a cross between a bull and a hippo, the creature that pulled their wagon was larger than both; easily standing seven feet tall and twelve feet long. The Rohm had dark, matted brown fur of twenty or so inches like the prehistoric mastodons from Earth.

 

It had four thick legs that ended in plodding flat feet, and its head was like that of a cow, only flatter, with a broader forehead and snout, and two long horns that protruded from the sides near the top of its skull and snaked backwards towards its neck and shoulders.

 

The horns were single prongs that were about six inches in diameter and a ruddy ivory color. Leather straps were tied around the horns, making them convenient anchor points for the reins that Logan now held as he guided the animal down the road before them.

 

The huge rohm was fascinating to Logan. It was docile and subdued, but he could sense tremendous power in its muscular body; he was glad he hadn’t encountered an untamed, aggressive version of the beast in the forest. He wondered where it was found and how it was tamed, or if they were bread somewhere specifically as working animals. If so, it wasn’t something that took place in Woolam and must’ve been purchased elsewhere.

 

“If there are no horses, does that mean you can’t be a cowboy samurai knight warrior until we leave the southlands? That’s a total bummer! Hurry up and kill this llort so we can get out of here and go somewhere with more style. The Legend of Ser Loganalot awaits!” Mikey said with glee, the words sounding inside Logan’s head.

 

He shook his head with an exasperated sigh. He'd never ridden a horse before but had always been drawn to them. That, like so many other parts of his life left unexplored, awaited him here on Tiris. The thought filled him with excitement.

 

Although Mikey was stuck in his head all of the time, road-trips seemed to bring out chattiness and subsequent irritability in everyone, regardless of planet or universe.

 

The rohm wasn’t particularly fast, but it made steady progress and hadn’t needed to rest for the last seven hours that they’d been travelling.

 

They’d taken several breaks over the last three days of travel: Huck prepared meals from the various stores of meat in Logans inventory, spices he’d brought along, and vegetation that he picked along the roadside. Huck seemed to know a great deal about the plants of the area and their plethora of uses, and Logan made a mental note to ask him about it. Huck had pointed him in the direction of Kiens early on to purchase zatroot for his forest expeditions, but other than that, Logan completely lacked any knowledge of botany.

 

It seemed that a basic knowledge of botany could pay dividends for Logan, and he wondered if he could learn it as a world skill, perhaps gaining the ability to discern the uses of plants that he encountered and how to prepare them. The rohm, for its part, contentedly munched on grass and drank water out of the troughs that Logan had managed to cram into his inventory whenever they took breaks, seemingly requiring little attention or care.

 

The voyage trudged on, the days filled with conversation, planning, and training. Logan continued his calisthenics and meditation regimen, even adding in some weighted exercise by performing Romanian deadlifts with the back of the wagon and using one of the empty water troughs for overhead and bench presses. His strength stat of four seemed deceptively low, for he was sure that he wouldn’t have been able to budge the wagon before coming to Tiris, but it proved little challenge to him as he was now.

 

He guessed that a stat rating of five or six was equivalent to the highest achievable level for normal humans on Earth, which meant he was closing in on matching, and possibly even surpassing standard human potential, in strength at least. His dexterity of four left him feeling more coordinated than ever before, and he had an intuitive sense that he’d be able to pick up most physical skills like dancing, skateboarding, skiing, and fencing with ease.

 

He felt nimble and quick, and the fact that he was both more agile and more capable of fine motor skills than he’d ever been before was obvious to him. This didn’t immediately make him a master of anything though, and he knew that anyone who’d spent a significant amount of time mastering any particular skill would still dramatically outclass him.

 

With his dexterity and strength in addition to his speed, he was capable of athletic vertical and lateral movement that would rival any top football player, wrestler, or gymnast. He was brimming with potential but lacked the training and experience to use his raw ability as effectively as he might. That irked him, but so far, he’d been more than a match for most monsters he’d encountered.

 

Logan had asked Huck and Ryan if they had anything resembling his Menu ability, or any skills or pages to speak of, but they did not.

 

Ryan had mentioned that he’d improved exceptionally fast when learning how to use the bow from Huck, and that his recent experiences fighting the monsters in the forest with Logan had skyrocketed his improvement, and he even felt that his arrows traveled faster and packed more of a punch than they used to, as well as being easier to draw, than when he’d only shot at stationary, inanimate targets.

 

Huck, after scouring his memory, had recalled Yram occasionally mentioning some sort of system that sounded like something akin to Logan’s Menu, but he was fuzzy on the details.

 

Logan suspected that everyone, or at least more people than just himself, then, had access to the same sort of information and abilities as he did, and that he wasn’t alone in his powers, improvement, and seemingly magical interaction with the environment and monsters.

 

Neither had ever encountered a looting ability like his, but Huck hadn’t seemed overly surprised upon learning that he had picked up world skills for swordsmanship, archery, and first aid knowledge from practice and experience; apparently knowledge suddenly imbuing itself upon you after consistent effort wasn’t unheard of, and even somewhat common.

 

It was treated like a natural occurrence, an epiphany of some sort that everyone experienced in their chosen fields and throughout life as they tried their hand at learning new skills. It wasn’t studied, tested, or experimented with, at least not in Woolam or the rest of the southlands, but rather treated as a natural, albeit convenient phenomena of life.

 

Logan was willing to bet, though Huck didn’t have the knowledge to confirm his suspicions, that in more highly populated and advanced cities and nations across the mountains and the sea that adventurers and perhaps even scholars and academics studied these phenomena and bent them to their will and advantage like Logan did.

 

This led him to ponder what sorts of people, and monsters, existed beyond the rural, isolated southlands. He felt like a big fish among the townspeople of Woolam, but what crucial information was he missing about the framework of the world he now inhabited?

 

He put the thoughts out of his mind and determined that his best, nay, only course of action was to get stronger with what little information he did have. From what he gathered of Huck’s travels to Tarik, he wouldn’t find much more enlightenment there, but he would arm himself with weaponry and armor instead of information; hopefully, he prayed, it would suffice.