《Amacore: Life After Life》
Prologue- Chapter 0
¡°I¡¯m sorry I killed you. In my defence, I¡¯ve seen sea cucumbers get more out of life¡±
The cranky blonde woman certainly had a point.
¡°You¡¯ve got me there. My question stands. Why do I have to go? I was looking forward to not existing anymore. I am so sick of being me.¡±
¡°Because you are already on your way! It cost me a years¡¯ energy to pick you up. I am NOT a taxi service. You don¡¯t want to be you? I¡¯ll give you a clean slate. If that¡¯s not good enough, just DIE. Well, twice. You¡¯ll absorb too much energy on the journey for one death to properly take¡±
She was looming over him at this point. If he had known life had an exit interview, he might have tried to die in something more appropriate than jeans and a hoodie.
¡°You weren¡¯t the one I was after anyway. How was I supposed to know your shitty car didn¡¯t have airbags?¡±
His car wasn¡¯t shitty. It did have airbags. They just weren¡¯t made to deploy twice in a single minute.
¡°You didn¡¯t want me? Not arguing with you on that point, but why did I have to die too? I recognised one of those girls from my therapist¡¯s office. The pretty brunette. Were you after her? Where did you get that cigarette? Can I have one?¡±
The blonde woman sat back in her chair. She waved her free hand and a pack of smokes with a disposable lighter appeared on the endless desk before him.
They sat and smoked in silence for a time before she finally answered.
¡°The tall one. She has the aura of a fanatic. I¡¯m hoping she grows into my first Paladin in a century. The little one might be of some quality, if she comes out of her shell,¡±
He laughed quietly to himself. Then less quietly. His laughter bordered on obnoxious when her glare finally silenced him.
¡°A Paladin? Are we talking video game or cult?¡±
¡°A magical holy warrior!!¡± she roared
¡°A magical bad-ass mother in a magic world full of adventure and conquest! Don¡¯t you understand what I am offering you?¡±Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
He had the gall to crush his cigarette stub on the desk between them.
¡°Yeah, I get it. What you don¡¯t seem to understand is that it¡¯s pointless. It¡¯s all pointless. Nothing means anything. Life has no purpose, with or without waving a wand and turning people into toads. My life, your life, and now apparently my afterlife. It was all supposed to be over for me. You¡¯ve ruined that!¡±
Most people confronted with his nihilistic outlook were stumped for a minute. This woman didn¡¯t miss a beat.
¡°My my, but you are a silly little man. Life is what you make it. You¡¯ve certainly invested time in making your own perfectly horrible. I am not a cruel person. I will grant both your wishes. Now GO. Go die, knowing nothing of who you were,¡±
The last thing he saw was a flash of blue white. Then there was nothing..
~ ~ ~
AMACORE
Where am I? Who am I? What am I? Does it matter? This is just a noisome nonsense question anyway. Consciousness is simply an emergent quality of interconnected senses, providing the illusion of self.
..oh no. I¡¯m annoying.
Ok. Enough navel gazing. Time to keep screaming.
Parts of a man, specifically; an arm, shoulder, head, and part of a torso appeared in the forest. Half birthed from a tree.
The man kicked with bruised and bleeding toes. His nails scrabbled to find any purchase or leverage to force a way to freedom. The wood was too tough, too smooth.
A nearby Dryad had listened to the intermittent screaming, begging, and crying for most of the morning. Moved to pity, the Nature Spirit summoned mercy for the desperate creature.
There was a knot in the wood by the man¡¯s ankles. He could push off it enough to get firmly wedged. His chosen method for getting unstuck again was to scream until his chest held no more air. If not strictly the best method, the most cathartic.
He pulled his arm back inside the hollow of the trunk. It was no warmer, but it got him out of the wind.
Exhausted, bleeding and naked, he bent at the knee to squeeze in his head.
A claustrophobic micro-nap later, he pushes off the knot again. He scraped chest, thighs and buttocks in his attempt worm out the gap to freedom.
The patient Warg bit down on the neck of the Manling. One firm shake and its neck cracked. Two days of meat and good standing with a tree spirit. Its canine smile pushed teeth deeper.
It took half an hour to pull the prize of flesh from its wooden cage.
Cursed-stinkin-mangy-shitbreath DOG that hurt!
Did I just get eaten? What the hell was that?
Where the hell am I?
When did I lay down?
Someone cleared their throat musically above him
¡°You are not supposed to be here¡±
Chapter 1
Chapter 1
Everything went black. Amalia could still hear the echo of screams and shrieking metal. Was it her screaming? Was she still screaming?
They had been walking along a footpath. A car had blown a tire as it crested the hill behind them. It had crashed into a parked car less than ten metres away. Tabia had rushed on to the road to help the driver. Amalia had tried to drag her sister to safety. The driver was obviously fine, they had been able to hear him cursing up a storm. Another car had crested the hill. It was too close to see them. Too close to hit the breaks or swerve.
She opened her eyes. Instead of death and chaos, she was met with the sight of lush blue carpet and an endlessly long desk. It stretched so far into the distance she couldn¡¯t see its end.
She was seated in a luxurious leather office chair. The heavy kind with wheels that actually roll where you mean them to.
Tabia was sitting in a chair identical to her own. Her eyes and fists clenched tight. It looked like she was having a nightmare.
¡°Tabia?¡±
Her eyes flew open and she jumped in her seat.
¡°Amalia? What happened? Where are we?¡±
Amalia gripped Tabia¡¯s hand tight. She didn¡¯t have any answers.
¡°I don¡¯t know. Right now, I need you to tell me if you are hurt. Focus on me. Breath¡±
¡°Very good advice. A small amendment; perhaps we all might focus on me for a moment¡±
Across the desk from them, a professional looking woman was seated in a fancy leather armchair. There had been nothing and no one there a heartbeat before.
¡°We don¡¯t often entertain such delicate proceedings with two people at once. But, you did arrive together. Given your circumstances, we thought you would be more comfortable this way¡±
She was short and petite. Blonde hair tied in a severe ponytail. She smelled of vanilla and citrus.
A ledger appeared in her hands she wasn¡¯t holding when she started speaking.
¡°I can answer some of your questions. We have time. Once we get you a little more settled, I have some questions of my own.. Tabia and Amalia, welcome to your second life¡±
Tabia stared blankly at the not at all comforting woman. Amalia watched Tabia.
My sister is dead? I¡¯m dead? She doesn¡¯t look dead. I don¡¯t look dead.
There wasn¡¯t so much as a wrinkle in her jeans or blouse.
This parody of an angel did not give Amalia the impression of lying.
Breath in for a count of 4, hold for 5, exhale for 6. In 4, hold 5, exhale a long slow 6.
The anxiety exercises helped take the edge off a bit.
¡°I understand what you are telling us. My first question, where are our parents?¡±
The office angel¡¯s lips pursed to a tight line.
¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t tell you anything that might influence a certain choice you will have to make. I can, however, point out that they are not in this room with us. You will have to make of that what you will¡±
Mum and Dad probably survived. They didn¡¯t run on to the road like we did.
A knot of tension and fear eased in Amalia¡¯s stomach.
¡°Can you send us back?¡± Tabia asked.
The woman gave her a sad smile.
¡°No. You are no longer of that world. There are certain rules¡±
Amalia did not find this surprising. She thinks she might be in shock. She had always thought there would be nothing past Death¡¯s door.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
¡°What rules? Where are the Pearly Gates? Is this heaven? What about the guy in the car? Are you an angel?¡± Tabia berated the woman.
A very small twitch developed under the office angel¡¯s eye.
¡°Please do try to keep your questions to one at a time. I can answer some of those, I won¡¯t answer others, you don¡¯t want the answers to the rest. I¡¯m afraid your Christianity covered only the spirit of a very limited number of truths. I myself am called a Regulator. Consider this place an in-between. You are not quite dead but for the choosing¡±
She took a long drag on a cigarette that had magically taken the place of her ledger.
¡°My name is Trista. The two of you have been chosen. Given a second chance, if you will.¡±
Amalia seized on a particular phrase, ¡°That world? There are others?¡±
Trista¡¯s eyes focused on Amalia¡¯s. They had maintained eye contact for only a moment, yet it seemed untold amounts of time. The woman¡¯s eyes were a deep blue abyss.
¡°You are quicker than most. Yes, there are other worlds. Now seems as good a time as any for me to start asking you some questions¡±
¡°What other worlds are there?¡± Tabia asked. Braced on the edge of her chair.
¡°Not terribly relevant right now, my sweet,¡±
Trista wiggled herself back in her chair and swung her feet up on to the desk.
¡°Though I do so enjoy teaching. Are either of you familiar with quantum mechanics?¡±
Both sisters shook their heads.
¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. For illustrative purposes, your universe is a cake. Can you imagine cake for me? Good good,¡± Trista held up three fingers and a thumb.
¡°I will represent four infinite fields of energy as basic ingredients. The electron field, gravitation field, and the strong and weak nuclear fields. These are our eggs, flour, sugar, and butter. Have I lost you yet?
Neither of the girls seemed totally engaged, but had not glazed over yet.
¡°Pressing on. Our ingredients are eternal and infinite. They have no beginning or end. They exist everywhere, mixing together like a soup¡±
Tabia interrupted, ¡°Soup? What happened to the cake?¡±
¡°Apologies, dearest. Too many food metaphors. Alright, our ingredients are a series of oceans. Infinitely expansive oceans that interact with one another on occasion. Splashing about and occasionally causing little ripples and waves in another field, or ingredient, to form,
¡°It so happened that there was a day when all our ingredients disturbed one another in the same place and time. This made for enormous waves, a tsunami of mixing to happen. The tidal wave sized eggs got stuck to the flour, the waves of flour absorbed the butter, the butter was saturated with sugar. They made a cake. You will have heard of the event by a different name. The Big Bang¡±
They sat in silence a minute before Tabia ventured, ¡°What does that have to do with worlds? Why cake?¡±
¡°Planets, sweetums. The Big Bang made possible enormous balls of gas and rock that you call planets and stars. Everything you can see or touch is made of those four ingredients. There are tens of billions of planets in your universe that are reasonably suitable for life. Life, which is a natural accident of matter, develops on all of them eventually.
¡°I present cake for my metaphor because this next bit is hard without it. Also, I quite like cake. How many different types of cake are there? Are there not more ingredients that might be added to make, let¡¯s say, a chocolate cake? The confluence of fields expressing themselves as a Big Bang has happened many times. Slight differences in the mixture can result in spectacular changes to natural laws. A little more sugar can produce a Big Bang that creates nothing but black holes. Too much flour, too little gravity for stars to form and start creating the first complex atoms. Fortunately, the universe is an enormous place. Tens of thousands of different cakes have exploded into being without ever coming near overlapping.
¡°We have until the end of time to talk about all the worlds. That will not be long enough. We are outside all that here. In fact, your cake selves are not here either. This place is pure sugar. You are right now something like the psychic images of your previous selves. Ghosts or souls. Whatever makes you happy. Not that happy is something you can be here. Too many chemical bits and moving parts. Strictly consciousness and abstraction whilst you are with me. For now, let¡¯s talk more about you,
¡°What would you have liked to change about yourselves?¡± She asked. The cigarette vanished and ledger in hand again.
Tabia leapt into the, what Amalia suspected might not be rhetorical, exercise.
¡°I wish I was stronger. I wish I had the power to change the world around me. I wish I could have stood up to bullies. I wish I could hurt them¡±
Amalia was shocked to hear her articulate so honestly. She was also surprised to learn that her sister had such a juvenile perspective. She had seen Tabia defend her friends many times without resorting to petty violence.
Tabia held herself with pride. If she suspected Amalia or the Trista of judging her, it didn¡¯t show.
¡°Excellent. Absolutely nothing wrong with a straightforward brute. Pardon my language. I mean that as strictly the highest of praises¡±
¡°Now you-¡± she waved her ledger at Amalia accusingly- ¡°-you I imagine want something harder. Let¡¯s hear it¡±
What could she possibly say that sounded convincing? Amalia truly hated being put on the spot like this. Should she say she wished she had been better at turning invisible when asked personal questions? It was the only thing she could think of.
¡°I really wish I had been able to talk to animals¡±
Amalia clapped a hand over her mouth. It had rushed out of her so fast! She didn¡¯t know where the words came from. She hadn¡¯t known what each new word was going to be even as she had said it.
¡°Don¡¯t look so worried, my dear. There are no lies in this place. Good news, I think I have something for you,¡±
Trista looked down at her ledger.
¡°How about it girls? Exciting new life, or shall I let your souls pass into the great unknown?¡±
Tabia squeezed her sister¡¯s hand before responding.
¡°Do we have to be born again? I really don¡¯t think I can handle puberty a second time¡±
¡°Ha. Good form, that woman. No. You will be the persons that you are now. I am offering you the opportunity to live and grow, rather than just become a memory¡±
Sharing a look, the sisters nodded to one another. ¡°Yes¡± they replied to Trista.
¡°That¡¯s all I need to get you started. The two of you are now amongst my Chosen. This will require both very much and very little of you. I am sending you to Amacore. A planet that belongs to a Red Velvet cake universe. I do hope you enjoy my little joke when you see what I mean. When we speak again will largely depend on you. Farewell and good luck. Closing your eyes now would be a very good idea¡±
Amalia¡¯s world exploded in iridescent shades of blue and white. It was beautiful.
Chapter 2
Hiroxi had felt the awakening in the forest that morning.
There was nothing particularly unusual about an awakening outside of one¡¯s own territory. It was however considered poor form to allow an awakening on the doorstep of another Regulator.
The occurrence of a second awakening directly in his land was outright rudeness.
Hiroxi allowed his being to adopt a material focus to have a closer look at the indiscretion. His eyes now having formed to function in the gas-based low-pressure atmosphere. He found himself observing a naked, tailless, simian. It was lying on the sand by an old stone ruin.
Hiroxi altered his form to something more similar to the intruder. He had never found panic to be a good first tentacle to waggle with.
Hiroxi rubbed his tongue over his soft flappy beak. Lips. They are called Lips. Hiroxi ran his tongue over the lips of his vessel to prepare them for speaking.
¡°You are not supposed to be here¡±
The simian moved to stand, over balanced, settled for a crouch. It stared at him, but quickly lost interest and went to examining itself.
Hiroxi thought he had perhaps used the wrong tongue. There were hundreds of languages belonging to the simian races, after all. That was without taking into account the number of universes this one might have come from.
Unwilling to repeat the same statement endlessly, Hiroxi felt for the soul of the creature. The experiences and history that make a sentient an individual.
Distressingly, there were none.
The simian started to back away from Hiroxi. Not fleeing, but doggedly inching away. It looked to be making for the old stone wall. Its progress was laughably slow. Hiroxi needed a moment to think. His head skin compressed over his eyes. An unfortunate trait of flesh vessels. Any attempt at concentration was made even more difficult by the body¡¯s attempt to voice its own opinion.
Hiroxi¡¯s scalp stretched the frown and other skin away from his vessels face. A cephalopod smirk that looked very out of place on a mammalian head.
This violation of etiquette might be the greatest gift he had received in five hundred years.
None of his Chosen had survived longer than a year in the last four centuries. Simply too little gravity for those native to his universe¡¯s dominion. Not to mention the technological dependence. That, and being hated, feared, and hunted for their appearance. A common interest of the warm blooded. If it has tentacles and talks, kill it.
He was masterful in making the necessary changes to the body and neural networks of his vassals. Even in the relative isolation of the mountains by the sea, even with the help of the native Vey, they found ways to die. It seemed a kind of physical culture shock put them at insurmountable disadvantage. They inevitably died off for being unable to adapt.
Now, right in front of him, was an unaligned simian. Certainly no one would mind if he made a claim. After all, the energy spike from the being having Awakened twice in quick succession had called no attention. It would not be coming back when it inevitably died again.
Hiroxi was doing a service. That he might also benefit was purely incidental.
Hiroxi let his vessel collapse to the sand. He needed to help the simian understand its circumstance before it hurt itself in an attempt to escape. First, he must grant a Boon to attach the creature to himself.
The nature of Boon would normally be established before arriving upon Amacore.
Not being able to speak to the simian became the solution as well as the problem.
Hiroxi wrapped the simian in his energy. An invisible wave of himself enveloping the odd being.
It had stopped trying to flee and now cautiously made its way toward Hiroxi''s collapsed vessel. To eat, perform violence, or to try to help. Hiroxi did not know.
He focused on the creature. Hiroxi learnt the energies that made up its body.
It was not often that a Regulator lay claim to a corporeal form. Hiroxi might be uniquely skilled among his peers at the task. He got bored once every few decades, not having any of his own Chosen to observe. This however, was the first higher sentient he had performed the process on.
A trickle of his energy flowed into the human. Yes, definitely human.
From the radiation signatures, sophistication of fillings in the teeth, and micro amounts of harmful disease bacteria in its blood, likely from a Class 1 or early Class 2 planet.
Not technologically developed enough to be mechanically dependant. That was an advantage.
So excruciatingly little magical resonance as to be worrying. Hopefully he was as adaptable as the others of his species Hiroxi had observed over the millennia.
The human was able to absorb more energy than simple animals or monsters. Every fibre of its being was hungry for more power. Barely any residual bleed from its aura.
No, that wasn¡¯t right. It didn¡¯t have an aura. It was growing one from Hiroxi¡¯s own energy.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
A powerful Boon might be granted if it survived the process. The swell of energy that was Hiroxi pulsed with excitement.
Now, to be very careful with his wording. As simple and specific as possible.
Many a careless Boon had made for an entertaining curse.
The will and intent of the Regulator guided the magics as much as the command itself. But wait, where was the fun in that? He chose his word, but kept his intention vague.
UNDERSTANDING
The energy trickle lurched. The simian stopped breathing, its eyes and mouth opened in horror. lt collapsed to the cold sand.
A tremor passed through Hiroxi. A concussive wave that began inside the human and surged throughout his essence. Hiroxi felt himself flatten and expand. Then, like a tsunami, rushed back toward the simian. Hiroxi imagined himself to be a nebula drawn to a black hole.
Impressive as the human¡¯s capacity was, it was finite. Startling, perhaps, but Hiroxi had enough energy to Awaken a small city.
The human made gurgling noises from the ground. It also appeared to be steaming very slightly. Confident it would need a minute, Hiroxi resumed his vessel once more.
~??~??~
Spitting dirt and sand from his mouth, the human pushed his way off the ground.
His body felt different. The oppressive cold of exposure now a refreshing cool breeze.
His vision filled with blue green light. A flat window appeared as his eyes tried to focus through the sea-green glare.
WHAT IS YOUR NAME
¡°I don¡¯t know¡±
The light and window vanished. The strange naked man he had watched collapse was staring at him. He was making faces.
¡°I thought that might be the case. What would you like your name to be?¡± Hiroxi asked.
¡°You speak English? Wait, what language am I speaking?¡±
The words coming from his mouth were shaped wrong. They were bouncier and quicker than they should be.
Hiroxi¡¯s time as a corporeal entity on this plane was drawing to a close. He didn¡¯t want to waste more time than needed on small talk. He pushed air into the skin pouches attached to his vessel''s lips. An unconscious tick of impatience and urgency.
¡°You have me for maybe another 5 minutes. Pick a name. Do it now¡±
As much as he wanted to be gentle, Hiroxi did have to attend to certain rules.
The human closed his eyes and started counting. Inhale for four, three, two, one. Hold four counts. Release for five.
Not a single word stood out in his mind.
He opened his eyes to search for inspiration.
The distressing, naked, bossy man only made him think of clothes.
The sand annoyed him and the sound of crashing waves made him want to swim.
He stared into the sky. The answer was there.
¡°I name myself Sky,¡±
¡°No, that¡¯s terrible. Quickly now¡±
¡°Cloud?¡±
¡°Worse. Hurry, or I will name you,¡±
Hiroxi had no such power, or inclination, to do this. He really did want the human to take this seriously.
The human stared hard at the dirt and sand by its toes.
¡°Drawde. I name myself Drawde,¡±
¡°Very well, Drowd. Out of curiosity, are you trying to rhyme with the word cloud?
I happen to speak English. I should tell you, those words don¡¯t rhyme in the common tongue of Amacore,¡±
Drawde¡¯s vision was again eclipsed in a wave of viridian. The naming window resolved back into focus.
WHAT IS YOUR NAME
He thought his new name and it faded into being, like an afterimage gaining definition.
He blinked hard and dismissed the apparition.
Hiroxi chuckled.
¡°That¡¯s how you were spelling it? Probably for the best. The Drow are a prideful people. They are not known for a sense of humor. Or mercy¡±
Hiroxi allowed his human a moment to gather itself. The Boon was granted and the Covenant signed. It was time to show some kindness. Likely the only kindness his Drawde would experience for a long time.
¡°I want you to think your name. Do it deliberately. With intent¡±
Drawde obeyed. The greenish light reappeared. It was mostly transparent this time. He could still see the strange man and the beach beyond him.
The window was significantly less transparent. It was a table of various words and numbers with his name as a heading.
| Name: Drawde Vey |
Race: Human |
Level: 1 |
| Strength |
9 |
| Dexterity |
10 |
| Constitution |
8 |
| Intelligence |
10 |
| Focus |
13 |
| Charisma |
7 |
| Luck |
7 |
¡°I should perhaps have started with this. My name is Hiroxi. You will notice you are now Drawde Vey. Vey is the race of my people. You are now to be considered an honorary Vey. You are also now of my Chosen. This will require both very much and very little of you,¡±
¡°Can I ask questions now?¡± Drawde interrupted. He looked to be getting ready to collapse again.
¡°You may. I am very limited in how much assistance I can provide and we have little time. Ask away,¡±
Drawde really wanted to ask who this crazy person was. Had he really died? Were there more of those hyena/wolf monsters near here? Where was here? Why couldn¡¯t he remember anything before being stuck inside a tree then used as a chew toy?
What in the Cursing Hells had electrocuted him earlier? Why did his eyes now double as magical information screens? Why did this Hiroxi person seem to be generating a sparkly teal miasma from his body?
He settled on the most pressing question.
¡°Where can I get some pants?¡±
Hiroxi felt a pull on his aura. He had even less time than he had realised.
¡°Follow the beach South. That¡¯s a left, once you reach the water. There is a cave at the end of it. It should only take you three hours to reach. A grindylow lives inside. His name is Perrak. He will most certainly try to eat you. He has collected quite a little trove over the years from the careless. And the lost¡±
He had also kept Hiroxi entertained over the last three decades. Hopefully his death was quick.
¡°If you die, you will return here. Don¡¯t die. It¡¯s a long walk,¡±
Hiroxi¡¯s arms snapped to his sides. His knees rushed to his chest. He floated in an unnatural foetal position as his vessel began to compress in on itself. Time had run out.
¡°Whenyousucceed, travelEastfromthecaveforadayandanight. Youwillfind-¡±
His lungs had collapsed from the growing pressure.
The last he saw of his human was a look of terror as his vessel compressed itself out of existence.
Hiroxi''s energy flowed away from the beach and into the sky. Returned to his post and natural form, free to watch over his lonely territories. Hiroxi finally had privacy to express himself.
His mantle and tentacles quivered and undulated with glee.
Chapter 3
The intensity of the blue dimmed by degrees. Amalia could see the shape of a ceiling through the tint. A window took shape as the flecks of white that spotted the blue connected themselves.
WHAT IS YOUR NAME
¡°Amalia?¡± She asked the apparition.
|
Name: Amalia
|
Race: Human
|
Level: 1
|
|
Strength
|
8
|
|
Dexterity
|
11
|
|
Constitution
|
10
|
|
Intelligence
|
11
|
|
Focus
|
12
|
|
Charisma
|
9
|
|
Luck
|
8
|
Amalia blinked rapidly to see past the dump of information. The magic window and blue tint both vanished. She was staring at a wooden ceiling. Sitting up, she found herself to be atop a simple, but comfortable bed.
Across the small room was another bed. On top of the covers was a ghostly blue outline of her sister. She watched as her sister was filled quickly into the outline, replacing the sky blue shell with her olive skinned self.
She didn¡¯t relax until she saw Tabia take a breath.
¡°Tabia¡± Tabia said. Likely going through the same process she herself had. After Tabia had blinked her own information sheet away, she looked to her sister. They were both naked. Amalia stood and pulled the blanket from underneath herself. Wrapping themselves in the thin blankets, they sat on Tabia¡¯s bed, huddling close. They cried together for a long time. They cried for their parents. They cried for their friends. They cried for their young lives. They cried for their uncertain fates.
~?? ??~ ????~
Amalia wiped away her tears. She and Tabia had cried themselves out and spent ten minutes staring listlessly around the small room.
Excited whispers, as of a small crowd trying to keep quiet, could be heard coming through the shuttered window above Amalia¡¯s bed. The sensation of being watched tickling up her spine.
A worn old chest sat on the floor between the two beds. The floor itself looked to be covered in shallow scratches. Pulling her blanket close, Amalia crept from the bed to see what was inside.
The lid was heavy, but the hinges were mercifully silent. The dark wood was warm compared to the lighter coloured wood under her bare feet.
Stacks of badly folded clothing in varying shades of brown and beige were inside. Letting her blanket drape across her shoulders, she removed several stacks with one hand while keeping the lid up with the other. She threw piles of them in the general direction of her sister, who was still staring sightlessly on her bed. She emptied the entire chest of clothes. At the bottom, previously hidden by the assortment of garments, was a wide selection of shoes. They all looked too big for her, though some might fit Tabia¡¯s larger feet.
Tabia finally woke enough to begin pawing through the various garb. Thankfully, the few underclothes in the mix would probably fit them. Very lucky, as most of the clothing looked to be made for men.
Amalia chose a simple beige tunic with thick leather cords for tying it snug running down the side. It had a slightly musty smell from being in the chest for however long. The only pants with a sufficiently narrow waist needed the legs rolled up several times for her feet to poke out the bottom. Examining her feet, Amalia saw her beautiful orange nail polish was gone. It was a small thing, espescially in the face of the colossal changes she knew the two of them were facing. It still very nearly sent her rushing back to her sister¡¯s bed to hide a while longer.
Tabia had chosen a similar outfit for herself, though her pants looked to be leather riding breeches. They selected a heavy woolen cloak each before sitting on Tabia¡¯s bed once more. Tabia struggled to pull a pair of leather boots onto her feet. There had not been any socks in the chest. Amalia had never seen her sister looking so drab. She usually preferred bright colours. They both did. It was the first time she had seen her sister without any makeup in several years. She was something of a natural beauty. She had the same dark brown hair and eyebrows Amalia did. She kept her hair a little shorter and was a full six inches taller. Standing at six feet, people often thought Tabia was the older sister. A glint brought Amalia¡¯s attention to her sister¡¯s nose stud. Feeling at her ears she discovered she had retained her own earrings. How bizarre that they should have kept their piercings, but lost their makeup, bracelets, and rings.
¡°We¡¯ll be ok¡± she said to her red eyed, exhausted looking sister.
Tabia¡¯s face turned from one of melancholy to surprise.
¡°What did you say? Oh! What did I say!? What language are we speaking?¡±
Amalia¡¯s own surprise was cut short by a knock on the door.
¡°Hello? Girls?¡± A woman¡¯s voice. An older woman. She was definitely not speaking English.
¡°I¡¯m coming in. I¡¯ve brought tea and food!¡±
Somehow, they understood the oddly bouncy and rhythmic speech.
The door opened into the room. Pushed by a woman¡¯s hip and shoulder. Amalia stood to hold the door while Tabia took a wooden tray from her hands. It was heaped with biscuits, fruit, and indeed, a tea set. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.
¡°Oh, yes, thank you. Set it down for the moment. I can only imagine how many questions you have¡±
She was Amalia¡¯s height. She had auburn curls and sun damaged skin.
¡°Call me Margot, or Marge, if you like¡±
Amalia found it terribly unclear which of the two the woman herself might prefer. She had said the second with a touch more enthusiasm.
¡°Uh.. well, Margot, where are we? Are we dead?¡±
She couldn¡¯t say the name Marge without picturing a woman with a tower of blue hair.
¡°Goodness, no. Didn¡¯t the Regulator explain? You are very much alive. This is a very real place. The planet is called Amacore. Tell me, do I detect an Australian accent?¡±
The girls nodded at the woman.
¡°Well G¡¯day, mateys! I¡¯ve heard all about your shrimp on the barbie¡± Margot chuckled to herself. ¡°After sundown I can even point you toward your home planet. The vague direction of the universe it¡¯s in, anyway. You are a looooong way from home. Bajillions of light years away, at a guess. My father was from America. Texas, he would have been proud to tell you. Then keep on telling you, until my mother would ask him to stop¡±
She looked sad at the mention of her parents.
¡°You¡¯re not from Earth?¡± Tabia asked.
¡°No no. Born and raised here. Here, Amacore, specifically here in Brookdale¡±
Margot poured tea into several crude porcelain mugs as the sisters thought about their questions.
Amalia couldn¡¯t keep herself from studying the woman before them. She certainly looked human. What differences should she even look for?
¡°Oh!¡± She exclaimed.
| Name: Margot |
Race: Human |
Level: 6 |
A title card had popped into existence above the womans orange hair. It was surreal, like the world was a video game.
Skill unlocked: Perception
Pay attention to your environment and its inhabitants. A keen observer will see and know more. Knowledge is power
4/50 to level 2 Perception
She explained as best she could to Margot and her sister. ¡°It¡¯s a little floating label over your head. I can make it disappear if I think about it. Do I have one? Why can¡¯t I see Tab-¡° she trailed off
| Name: Tabia |
Race: Human |
Level: 1 |
¡°-never mind. Tabia has one too¡± she felt at the space above her own head.
Tabia looked puzzled and Margot started laughing.
¡°You¡¯re a quick one. It took me days of staring at critters for me to see my first. People is harder. They would get annoyed or shuffle off when I tried. I was not a popular kid that month. Ah, hells. The tea¡¯s gone cold¡±
Margot poured the mugs back into the tin pot. She wrapped her fingers around its base and closed her eyes.
Amalia thought she could see ripples of.. something, washing over Margot¡¯s hands. Perhaps even coming out of her hands. Tiny bolts of red and white danced between her fingers and the tin of the pot. Seconds later, steam fountained from the spout. It made a bittersweet smelling cloud over their heads.
¡°A little too much juice there. I¡¯ll let it sit for a minute¡± she dabbed at her forehead with a sleeve and took a piece of fruit with a shaking hand.
¡°That was magic! Was that magic? Is this what the angel lady meant by Red Velvet cake?¡± Tabia asked, bouncing up and down on the bed.
¡°Darn right it¡¯s magic. Don¡¯t know about no velvet cakes though,¡±
Amalia nibbled at a slice of melon. It was drier than it looked, but also sweeter. She struggled to focus on the conversation. What were their parents doing now? Were they making arrangements for their funeral? Tabia was more willing to be distracted. ¡°Can you show me again? Can I learn how to do it?¡± She had very nearly bounced herself off the bed.
¡°Of course! I can¡¯t do it again for a little while though. I¡¯ve never had much mana. Like my Papa, I just don¡¯t have the knack,¡± She busied herself pouring the tea again.
¡°How are there humans on this world? Is it something to do with evolution?¡± Tabia asked, masterfully hiding her disappointment.
¡°Naw, nothing fancy as all that. The regulators have been sending their Chosen here for thousands of years. Only one or two a year, but that¡¯s time to make babies. On my mother¡¯s side I can trace back a little over a century to an Earther. Great-great Granny or some such. She was a ab-or-iginy. Story goes that she died saving her little girl from a big snake. She became a powerful evocater by anyone¡¯s standards. She was only sixteen when she got Chosen. I might not have her dark skin, but I got some of her fire and hate snakes something powerful. That¡¯s how they choose you, you know. They watch you. Now they can¡¯t take the living, and nobody thinks they spends much time on the watchin¡¯. Popular idea is they make little accidents happen. See what people do when they¡¯s in the fire. Sometimes they get lucky and the brave idiot, no offence, has a useful skill or two,
¡°Since we¡¯re on the subject, what do you bring to the table? Do you have any skills to speak of?¡± She made eye contact with each of them as she handed out the steaming cups ¡°Not meaning to be insensitive. It¡¯s just I have some folk waiting outside what want to meet you. See what you can do. That sort of thing. Don''t suppose one of you knows plumbing?¡±
Skills? Amalia had two left feet. Everyone felt like a better dancer when she was at parties. She was a pro at binge watching television shows. Accessorising, hair and makeup, a decent tennis serve. None of those felt like skills. ¡°I can sew a little. Tabia is great at netball. I¡¯m an ok cook, if you like vegetarian foods¡± her words failed to incite any reaction from Margot.
¡°What¡¯s netball? No, forget that. It¡¯s obviously some kind of game. I¡¯ll have you tell me about it later. Any game what isn''t baseball is something I wanna'' hear about,¡±
Tabia spoke with a mouth half full of biscuit ¡°I¡¯m good at computer stuff. I know a lot about photography. Do you guys have Instagram?¡±
¡°Instant gram? We measure in tens and hundreds. Papa was always confounded we were on The Metric, as he called it. He tried to teach some of us his Imperial. Poor man could never remember how many feet went into a mile¡±
¡°5280¡± piped Amalia.
¡°Really? That¡¯s an awful way to measure. Now I¡¯m extra glad it didn¡¯t catch on,¡± she paused to sip at her tea.
¡°Sewing is a great skill. I¡¯ve never heard of any computer stuff, and I¡¯m afraid photography is more expensive than our little town can afford. We don¡¯t need extra hands in the kitchen, but it¡¯s still great to know,¡±
Margot trailed off a moment before visibly forcing a smile on her face.
¡°It¡¯s fine. We¡¯ll keep you busy. We won¡¯t have had you here a day before we find something you¡¯re good at. Now I know something bad has happened to the two of you. That¡¯s a rule as you Chosen types go. You just go and trust us to set you right on your feet. Keep them chins up¡±
Having finished her biscuit, and several pieces of fruit besides, Tabia slowed down enough to ask, ¡°Are there other people like us here?¡±
Annoyance flashed across Margot¡¯s face. She rubbed at her forehead with her fingertips as she replied, ¡°In a way. I won¡¯t introduce you to Puppet yet. Your day will be busy enough. I¡¯ll only tell you that we near tore down this little cabin the last time that Old Bitch sent one of you our way. Heck, the one the year before him wasn¡¯t even bonded. He couldn¡¯t speak a word of the common. Wouldn¡¯t listen to a damn thing we tried to tell him. I speak some bits of English. That didn¡¯t work either. We made it real clear to Miss Uppity what we would do if there was any more funny business,"
¡°Finish up your tea, girls. We¡¯ve some people giving up their time to help you out today. We¡¯ve kept them long enough,¡±
Amalia and Tabia cleared most of the tray. Tabia massacred the biscuits and Amalia was shoveled fruit into her mouth. She didn¡¯t know how she could be so hungry. Didn¡¯t the grieving process usually involve a lack of appetite? Psychological norms be damned. The fruits were sweet and the tea was.. The tea left something to be desired. Tabia liked it enough to have two cups. Too savory for Amalia''s tastes. Dressed and fed, the sisters moved to follow Margot from the little room.
¡°You can leave the tray where it is. I¡¯ll have an Aumer take care of all this,¡± Margot said, waving a hand at the mess of clothes and fruit rinds. ¡°Amalia, little one, I am sure there was a pair of sandals your size in the chest. It¡¯s too cold and rocky to be barefoot out here¡±
Amalia hurried back into the room. No longer trying to be quiet, she pushed the lid of the chest all the way open. She had to dig through the pile of larger shoes to find her prize. They had fallen to the very bottom. She pulled at the flat wooden soles to find one of the cloth straps had snagged under a heavy boot. She shifted the boot to let the strap free. Doing so revealed a word scratched into the bottom of the chest. A single english word.
Slaver.
Chapter 4
The sand had many hidden dangers. ¡°Ouch! Damn you are all your little calcium carbonate friends¡± Drawde uncovered the large shell with his hands. He had not been stabbed by the sharp side. This time. Small blessings. The conch shell had just the right shape and heft to spiral beautifully as it sailed into the sea. He was getting good at it. That shell had made it further than any before. It was a crying shame he found most of them with his feet.
The cold and wind were starting to drain his already dwindling strength. His legs were screaming for a breather. So were his lungs. Ha. The knee high waves breaking on the beach would occasionally splash over his feet and ankles. The water was surprisingly warm. He would have thrown himself in an hour past if he hadn¡¯t seen some of his throwing shells with living inhabitants. Some sort of snail, but they were bright pink and blue. They glowed softly when seen through the water. Bright colours usually meant poisonous. He also wasn¡¯t certain if he knew how to swim.
Worst of all was the sunburn. He could feel the back of his neck and shoulders radiating heat. It only itched for the moment, but tomorrow would be hell. Another ten minutes of forced trudging finally provided the excuse to stop Drawde had been waiting for. The tide that had been steadily retreating had left him a gift.
Some driftwood, some seaweed, and most exciting of all, a large sand covered sack. Maybe the sack even had something edible inside? Pulling the soaked and dirty fabric from the sand was no easy task. Half of it was still under the wet. Drawde was panting and sweating by the time the sucking sand surrendered its prize.
After giving the sack a good shake to loosen some of the sand, and hopefully any nasty surprises, he found the sack to be empty. The saturated material was too tough to tear with his hands. He suddenly regretted his last epic shell throw. It might have been sharp enough to tear holes for his head and arms. Oh well, his feet were terribly good at finding more. A large flat rock was a little way up the beach. The fabric might dry enough to be workable given some time in the sun. Drawde walked back down the sand to inspect the driftwood. On closer inspection, one of the longer logs of dark wood turned out to be a plank. A narrow plank. A slat.
Whatever it was called, it had been fashioned into shape with intention. If it had washed up on this beach, there might be people living nearby. People meant food, water, food, and shelter. More importantly, food. The thought brought a smile to his cracked lips. On the other hand, a sturdy piece of wood was also a potential weapon. He didn¡¯t know what a Perrak was, but he refused to be eaten. Again.
Murder on his mind, Drawde gripped the dark timber and yanked. It shot from the sand with so little resistance he dropped to his backside. The plank rested across his upper legs. The dry end was still in his left hand, the wet end was occupied by the largest conch shell he had seen yet. The mucousy pink skirt of the snail became visible as the creature worked its up the wood and closer to his exposed thigh.
Drawde stared at the leisurely paced snail. He was simply too tired and hungry to panic. Or stand. He began to wonder how the creature could see. He focused on the leathery gelatin mass creeping toward him. It didn¡¯t have any eyes or antennae.
Vibrant Strombid Lvl 2
Skill discovered: Perception
If you don¡¯t see it, is it really there?
5/200xp to Level 2
To his eyes, the name appeared immediately under the snail. The less courteous skill window absorbed half his field of vision. He blinked them both away, their sudden appearance leaving a faint afterimage.
The snail stopped its upward progress. He sure it was somehow looking back at him. A wet sucking sound was accompanied by a terrible pain in his leg. The slimy little jerk had shot him.
Vibrant Strombid damages you for: 1hp (Piercing damage)
He tried talking himself into get angry. Nope, too tired. He struggled to a standing position, keeping he snail balanced on the wet end of the plank. He endeavoured his way up the sand. The gentle incline almost convincing him to forgive his distasteful passenger. The empty shells were tough. A force multiplier was going to be needed to crack out the meat. Maybe it isn¡¯t poisonous? Maybe pink means delicious? He was hungry enough to find out.
Drawde cracked the snail¡¯s shell on the second blow. He pushed one end of his plank into the sand for something to lean on.
You deal 8hp (Blunt damage) to Vibrant Strombid Lvl 2
You deal 7hp (Blunt damage) to Vibrant Strombid Lvl 2
He wished the words and numbers would stop obscuring his vision mid-murder. He had almost missed when he went for his second hit. His hands stung from the harsh vibrations of the plank. Knees resting on the rock, he began to pull the shell away from creature. Despite the large cracks he had made, it was hard going. He thrust the thumb of one hand in the shell mouth. It was mucousy and cold, but it awarded him enough grip to tear away large fragments with his other hand. The creature that eventually glooped out onto the stone resembled a hideously deformed tongue. He lifted the sloppy mess to his mouth, careful to keep the dangling spike away from his face. Biting into the glistening flesh, he found the skin to be surprisingly tough.
You bite Vibrant Strombid for 6hp (3x2- Vulnerable Location, Piercing damage)
You gain 11xpThis tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
11/300 xp to Level 2
This time the damage related information appeared in his mind. It was like the echo of a recently read passage. How was the little bastard still alive? Drawde¡¯s annoyance was forgotten as his mouth filled with sweet fluids. It was a touch salty, and the mucus made his mouth tingle. It was glorious. He sucked at the rapidly deflating skin sack until small traces of sand and grit nearly choked him. Chewing the now significantly less juicy skin proved too difficult for his teeth. He had managed to swallow only the single membranous flap ripped free by his initial bite.
His lips had stopped tingling and even felt better than before. Snail slime moisturiser? He ripped the barbed spine free of the dead creature. It came free with a layer of transparent skin and fiddly bits he thought might be organs. He rubbed the leathery corpse over his sunburn. The relief on his neck was particularly soothing. By the time he reached his chest, the snail had no more balming ooze to offer. On the plus side, the skin had lost a modicum of its toughness. He still had to chew for long time, but his teeth could now tear off smaller chunks. For an hour, he sat and chewed.
Drawde finished most of his snail. Only some gristle remained to mark the site of his breakfast. He had found another shell shortly after resuming his walk. One the size of his palm rather than the size of his foot. It had been wonderfully easy to push the pointy end through the tough weave of his salvaged sack. His new shirt, though damp, kept the sun off his back. Even if it did itch his throat and underarms. He was proud of it. He had gone so far as to decorate himself using the barbed spine as a decorative pin. While pushing it through the weave over his heart, he had been pleased to discover it had taken on a resplendent blue as it dried. The universe had agreed with him.
Skill discovered: Crafting (Improvised)
4/200xp to Level 2
In the distance he could see that the rolling dunes gave way to rocky cliffs. The sand nearer him was spotted with tables of flat, barnacle encrusted stone. On an outcropping that stretched into the water, Drawde saw there were several strombids. Careful not to step on any barnacle patches, he navigated his way along the slippery stone. The pink shelled molluscs surrendered their grip from the side of the rocky slab after a single whack of his plank. There was one with a spiky blue shell he couldn¡¯t prize up even after it was dead.
You damage Vibrant Lambis Lvl 3 for 4hp (Blunt damage)
You gain 17xp
50/300xp to Level 2
Skill discovered: Blunt Weapons
The art of hitting things until they do what you want.
62/400 to Level 2
Funnily enough, he did feel like his whalloping technique was becoming more polished. The plank stung his hands a little less than it had. He hurled his catch to join his sewing shell on the beach. The dead weight contained within granted more distance than he intended. He made his tender way back to shore. Clever monkey that he was, he chiseled the shells from the Strombids using a mostly barnacle free piece of shale and his sewing shell. He drank his fill of the sweet fluid and gave his sunburn a second coat of slime.
He wasn¡¯t hungry, but good future planning demanded he hold on to what food stuffs he could. A dozen punctures and some tearing later, he was able to fold a pouch with a flap of sack over his hip. He used his new snail spines to pin it closed. It worked so well that his sewing shell easily fit beside the squishy husks.
It was a well moisturised and glistening Drawde that finally made it to the end of the beach. The sand ended where the cliffs began. A sluggish stream cut a path between him and the rocky platform. It was looked no more than waist deep and he waded in easily. The mix of sand and silt swallowed his legs to mid shin. Don¡¯t inlets attract predators? The water was half way up his chest when the thought struck. A frantic trudge got him to the slippery stone. Despite the many available handholds, he grazed both knees and an elbow scarpering onto the rocky shelf.
The cliffs were much more imposing when standing at the bottom. They had looked picturesque from a distance. Now they loomed and threatened. He wasn¡¯t here for cliffs. He was here for pants. He ignored their ruddy intimidation and pressed on. Ruddy cliffs? There must be deposits of iron throughout the rock. Was that useful to him? Not right now. Where was the damn cave? There was maybe fifty metres worth of rock shelf remaining before the ocean cut off his path. If he was willing to swim the gap, there was a wall of boulders to contend with if he wanted to continue along the coastline. The sun was directly overhead now. The sun that had spent the morning scorching him. Did the sun rise in the West? Something about that bothered him. Did that mean this planet had a retrograde spin? How would he know? Who could he ask about the planet''s orbital direction around the sun? That decides it then. He must be an alien. ¡°What kind of sick joke is this?¡± he asked the uncaring stone.
His vision filled with blue and green.
ALIEN IS ABOUT RIGHT. WAIT FOR LOW TIDE.
Quest received: Clear the cave.
Reward: 200xp
¡°You can hear me? What the cursing hells is going on? Where do I come from? What am I?!¡± A horrible scuttling was his only answer.
A crab the size of a child¡¯s bicycle launched itself from behind a boulder. Oh good. Something to take his day out on.
He swung his club at the crustacean. It stepped backwards a full half second before the wood sailed by. This thing was quick, possibly clever, and could move directly backward and forward. He was sure that broke some kind of crab law. It scuttled at his leg and nipped at his toes. He stepped over the crab before it could grab him with a pincer. It lunged again at where he was no longer standing. Alright, not super clever. Blasted quick though.
Rock Pagu Level 2
He supposed it did look a bit like a rock with legs. He jabbed at its hindquarters with his plank. It didn¡¯t hurt the creature, but it did scurry about to face him. It charged his legs with the same fury as before.
¡°I¡¯ll teach you not to come at me sideways¡± he swung low with the plank. It was a swing that would have had beautiful follow through if his plank hadn¡¯t snapped on contact with the crabby assailant.
You damage Rock Pagu for 12hp (Blunt damage)
The legged rock cartwheeled into the air from the hit. It landed with on its back with a crunch. Its legs on one side were completely crushed. The fight was over. Drawde knew it, the cliffs knew it. Against all sense, the crab thought otherwise. It rocked back and forth, flailing its claws until it righted itself. It clawed pathetically across the stone to continue the battle. Drawde suddenly felt very tired as it hissed a defiant scream from a foamy mouth. It was time to end this saddening display. His length of wood had split down the middle as well as in half. There were plenty of fist sized rocks to choose from. He found one with a pointy bit and let the crab drag itself to his feet.
You damage Rock Pagu for 4hp (Blunt damage)
You damage Rock Pagu for 5hp (Blunt Damage)
You damage Rock Pagu for 4hp (Blunt damage)
You gain 14xp
Confirmation of death be damned. The bastard was still moving. He struck it three more times before the twitching stopped. As he struggled to catch his breath, a little green bar with a red outline flashed in the corner of his vision.
Stamina 35/122
He wiped specks of blue blood from his hands. The creature twitched as he picked shards of shell from the destroyed carapace. He would enjoy a seafood buffet while he waited for the tide.