The Monitor doesn’t respond, just standing there, menacingly. After a few seconds, I remember the last time we saw each other, he tortured me to get what he wanted from Peter. A bead of sweat forms on my head, rolling down my temple.
“What have you been discussing with Iwanttobelieve in the private rooms?” It asks.
“Contract details. I signed on to do streams with his people.” I say, partially relieved that I could answer honestly, but still a little worried it might not believe me.
It keeps standing there, shining its too-bright light into my eyes. I look away, only making eye contact when I think it’s going to say something. Without another word, it disappears.
“Motherfucker.” I swear, lowering myself to the ground. I try to get the shaking in my hands under control, breathing in the pine-scented air.
That thing scares the shit out of me. My hammer, Thunderhead, speaks in my mind.
Yeah?
It feels like looking up into the eyes of an enemy towering over you, whom you couldn’t hope to defeat.
I get that.
When are we going to fight giants again, by the way?
I have no idea, sorry.
I stand up, brushing dirt from my metal pants. Like Bolt before them, Thunderhead can’t think about much besides their one passion. Unless I wanted to chat about killing giants, my hammer is not much of a conversationalist. I’d ask what we should do next, but I can guess with perfect accuracy what they’d say. I decide to level my mining skill. It’s going to be a long while before Peter logs back in.
The last thing I mined was tin, reaching level 21. I just need to find a cliff, hill, or cave nearby to find appropriate veins for my level. It doesn't take long to find an area rich with nodes.
Tin Ore added to inventory
Mining skill increased to 22
I run around the hills in the forest for about an hour before I reach level forty in mining, rendering Tin useless for leveling. There’s no new type of metal between twenty and forty, because blacksmithing at that level makes bronze armor, and bronze is an alloy that does not occur naturally. Another fun fact I recall from my former life. Remembering that makes me wonder what else I remember, or what I don't remember. It’s impossible to know without prompting a memory to reveal itself.
Ignoring those frustrating thoughts, and my urge to keep quiet, I pose a question to general chat.
Earl says: Where do I go to mine iron?
Biblebedoo says: iron deez nuts
Opopress says: Kangegaban Wild
Earl says: Thank you.
Biblebedoo says: thank DEEZ NUTS!
Player Biblebedoo has been Blocked.
That went slightly better than expected. At least nobody called me a hacker. I summon my chariot, and head south-east towards the dinosaur infested Kagegaban Wilds. Even at the breakneck speed of mounted travel, it still takes just under half an hour to get there through Clearcut. I wonder if there’s a faster way to travel? Other than portals, of course. I’m not a wizard and I only know one. Well, two, but I wouldn’t ask Pelgingose to shuttle me around the world.
As soon as I enter the territory, I spot iron nodes. The borders of this whole area are mountainous, so finding nodes is a breeze.
Iron Ore added to inventory.
Mining skill increased to 41.
Iron Ore added to inventory.
Amethyst added to inventory.
Mining skill increased to 42.
Nice, gems go for a pretty penny. Maybe I can sell enough materials to get back the 10k that I spent crafting armor. As I roam the hillside, I happen upon a cave. Jackpot! That should be chock full of iron veins. I enter, keeping my eyes peeled. I needn't have bothered, as the further in I go, the less natural the cave appears.
Rough stone walls transition to smooth gold, clearly man-made. Something-made, at the very least, as more than just man exists in this world. Knotwork appears etched into the pillars that line the walls, reminding me of the designs found in the Halls of Honor. As I move further in, I find murals etched into the walls, depicting orcs. The orcs, my people, are shown to have evolved from boars, using a transitional mural much like the classic hominid evolution line. From boars, to upright boars, to stretched out boars, to almost orcs, to true orcs.
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At no point does it show when we turned green, perhaps it did long ago and the paint has washed away. I chuckle to myself, remembering the phrase people use to describe human meat.
“Long pig.” I say aloud, resting my hand on the third stage of our evolution.
I move on, taking in more murals as I go. Orcs built a great city, metaphorically or literally on the bodies of other species. They slaughter species after species, all the while watched with displeasure by a figure placed above it all, like a god. After the god has had enough of this, the orcs are imprisoned. Time passes, empires of other species are allowed to rise in the orcs absence. It shows humans evolve from apes, and elves evolve from jungle cats.
The dwarves and halflings split off from the human branch early on. The beastmen are elves, enchanted or cursed in some way. The minotaur and cyclops are entirely separate, unique creations by whom I assume to be the “Mad Mage” Mournthing talked about.
There is no mention of the goblins.
After the other species have time to settle in, the orcs are freed. They rampage through human territories, killing by the hundreds. Before extinction occurs, the god steps in, and smites the leader of the orcs. Either not getting the message or defying it, leader after leader continues on the warpath, and are smited for their efforts. Eventually, one orc stands on the corpse of a dragon, instead of a mountain of humanoid bodies.
“The Honorlord.” I speak, my voice echoing in the cramped space.
The murals stop, when I look ahead I notice golden double doors. I approach them, and place my hand on one. Without much effort, it swings open, revealing a strange sight. A huge, empty space with a circular design on the floor. I walk the perimeter, literally miles upon miles of magical writing engraved onto the floor. Whatever spell this circle was for, it was one big-ass spell.
When I reach the far back of the space, my foot accidentally kicks something a few feet away. I walk over to it, and pick it up. A journal. At first I think the cover is gray, but thick dust comes away on my hand. I blow the rest off, revealing a tan cover with an odd leathery texture. The cover lifts creakily, the hinge sounds close to snapping. Red writing, so dark it almost appears black, covers the pages.
Day 1
I’m awake, and the others are not. No matter how much I shake, shout, and stab them, none wake from their slumber. I don’t know where we are, but every orc from every clan is here. The Night Ash, The White River, The Ebon Hill, even the maniacs of The False Mouth clan are here. Some I don’t even recognize, they must be from the secluded mountain clans.
This strange stasis presents an excellent opportunity for culling rivals…
Day 2
They didn’t fight back. They didn’t even scream. The Howling Dogs clan is no more. It’s not as satisfying when they don’t fight back. I’ve used my magic to create a clock. I must resist the urge to obsess over time passing, and only use it to track how long we are trapped here.
Day 2,190,653,350
Something has changed. It has been… I killed so many of them, but there are orcs beyond number here. I could spend every waking moment slitting their throats, and there would still be more. More more more. More orcs. Orcs orcs orcs.
The magic that has kept me sane is waning, in strange synchronicity with the magic of this stasis fading. I feel the walls. I feel it in the walls. The time is ending. We will be free soon.
I decided to skip ahead to the end after reading day two… wow. Six million years. I couldn’t begin to imagine. That must have been some powerful magic to keep them going, body and mind, for that long. I open the journal again, reading the number of days. No matter how many I turn, the number keeps going up. The journal must be magic as well, they didn’t write every day, they even skipped an entire millenia. But there’s more written pages than could possibly fit in the small journal.
After I put the journal in my inventory, I jump at a sudden sound a ways in the distance. I have to squint, but I see some movement near a tall pile of something. Making my way over, the movement stops, the sound of bones clattering echoes across the empty space. When I finally arrive, I behold a mountain of bones. Orc bones, if the many tusked skulls are any indication. Someone or something gathered all of the corpses the author of the journal made.
Not just gathered… picking up a femur, I notice the scratches and breaks, meat and marrow completely removed. Whatever did this ate the bodies. More strange than disturbing is the pile next to the bones. Tusks, stacked haphazardly. They spiral and twist randomly, but they are unmistakably orc tusks, broken off and tossed aside. As I bend to pick one of them up, a small movement catches my eye. Something is watching me from inside the bone pile.
Suddenly, some creature jumps out at me, arms raised in an attempt to scare me. It works. I fall back on my ass, as the thing makes a break for the exit. I decide not to chase it, wanting nothing to do with whatever the hell is going on with that. It looked like a skeleton with pale, near translucent skin stretched over it. On either side of its head, spiral horns grow a foot out from its head. No, not horns… tusks. They start from its mouth, and grow in haphazard spirals.
“What the fuck was that.” I ask nobody in particular.
If I had pants, I'd have surely soiled them.
Lucky for us you don’t.
Indeed!
I get to my feet, watching the distant figure become a speck, a solitary dot against the light streaming in from the doorway. I make my way out without much haste, not wanting to accidentally run into the creature or find myself in an ambush. The creature seems to have left the area entirely, or has hidden itself again. I stand in the mouth of the cave, scanning the treeline for anything out of place. Nothing here but me and the dinosaurs. After a few minutes pass without jumpscare, I move along, deciding to wrap up my mining leveling.
Iron Ore added to inventory.
Mining Skill increased to 60.
“Finally!” I shout, throwing my arms in the air. That took FOREVER. Just like bronze, steel does not exist in nature, so all twenty levels after fourty are iron gathering. I wonder if Herbalism is the same way. Lovelymoose seems like the kind of person that could get bored of that, but maybe I'm making assumptions. I admittedly didn’t get a very good read on her.
Peter says: Yo!