From what he’d gathered so far, the rifles were not effective against threats he expected to see regularly. This meant he needed to figure out his powers and see what practical effect they could produce, with minimal power input on his part.
He kept trying to snap his fingers to will any of them into existence and so far, all he’d managed to do was produce sparks, much to Claire’s delight. “So, you have fire, ice, and a third, stranger thing.”
“Some kind of protective barrier. We would all have been roast chicken if I hadn’t gotten that barrier up. But, I seem to be having some…replication issues.” He frowned as he tried to focus on that feeling from before, that charge of energy, going from his core, down his limbs. He could feel it–faintly. Like an empty channel within his body. Before, he’d felt like he was brimming with that electric charge. Maybe someone else would know what the issue was. Was he doing it wrong?
You’re still not at full charge. You used almost all of it during our escape. I believe your body will naturally convert some energy from your normal food intake. Or, imbibing certain alchemical products.
Let’s not make a science experiment out of our body. Just say you don’t have the knowledge on this, or you can’t remember. He glanced up to see Telga and Varrick talking quietly outside of the primary town municipal building. It was a defensible, three-story structure fortified with what appeared to be rudimentary concrete and metal cladding where applicable. He tapped the metal cladding, trying to scratch it. Even his talons left no mark, and Claire raised an eyebrow.
“Gonna have to power up to tear through walls, Shawn.”
“Nah, take a look. This is steel. I don’t see any corrosion, given the relative humidity. Someone knows what they’re doing,” he pointed out. But, the disparate tech levels were still puzzling: the gestalts carried limitless potential. The dwellings appeared insulated–if simple, but why? Was it a resource restriction? Was it cultural? Or, perhaps an aspect of the fundamental nature of the planet: fractured continents, different knowledge pools, all separated by insurmountable, literal gaps?
He’d have to file those questions away for later. “Telga, who do you have in town who is knowledgeable in history and physical sciences?” he asked abruptly.
“Well, I have a detailed knowledge of many sciences. Though, the gestalts tend to break physics at times,” she demurred, examining him curiously. “I’m surprised you’re up and running. You didn’t need to–”
“Solving problems is my way of putting bad stuff behind me.” He didn’t elaborate further than that, and she nodded softly. “What about...those who didn't make it?" he asked, and felt his words falter for a second.
Her gaze never left him. “I spoke with the alderman. For those we can confirm perished, there will be a remembrance service. It…may be different from what you are accustomed to, from your place of origin.” The way her eyes dimmed, as if the lights had gone out, told him she was barely holding it together.
Halsey, do you know why I feel relieved?
Why's that?
Even gods aren’t infallible around here, and they have feelings, too. He cleared his throat before addressing her. “I’d uh…I wouldn’t mind being there for that.”
“Me, too,” Claire spoke up after a moment and gently rubbed at her arm. “Will we be safe here?”
“For now. Varrick, I have a favor to ask. I’ve made arrangements for the rest of the survivors. Given their knowledge base, Shawn and Claire might be inclined to use the smithy shop.” Varrick raised a feathery brow at that.
“Before I agree to this, do you trust them?”
“Yes. I do. They were thrust into a situation not of their making, and chose to fight against Revarik anyway.” Shawn found it telling that they were asking right in front of them, rather than in private, and Varrick looked their way, gold eyes gleaming.
“Okay. I'm up for it. I have a few thoughts.” He approached Shawn, sizing him up. “I gathered you have a bit of a unique situation. You’re not going to have an easy time. This is a hard life, out here, but we live well when we work together. Give me some skills of yours, top three.”
“I can hunt. I can help design and manufacture various items. I’m no slouch in a fight, either,” he replied firmly and straightened to his full height. That look was that of a man who had weathered the world well, and knew its harsh realities. “Claire, your skills?” he called out.
“I know chemistry and lab setups. I know martial arts. I have…more social skills than Shawn when it comes to getting information and convincing people to help.” She also stood at attention, as if they were being judged. A good impression was crucial here.
Varrick gazed at both of them for a spell, his expression unreadable except for the slight tensing by his eyes and cheeks. That eagle-eyed stare was…intense. People on Earth didn’t stare at each other so intensely. Varrick nodded to the smithy on the hill. “Those are a good start. You’ll work to earn your keep. I can give you a roof over your head, and a hot meal. I’m expecting the same thing from the other poor souls who aren’t in broken spirits who made their way here. You’re expected to help out with what you can, to help us thrive…”
“We can do that. We’ll have to pool knowledge on what we can be useful with.” He glanced at Telga, who gave a silent nod to Varrick, who then smiled before responding.
“Alright then! Let’s finish the tour, then get you situated.”
Shawn met several other people during the day and took mental notes. Halsey committed the discussion to memory. He was somewhat distracted by one thing that Telga had told him earlier that was still eye-opening:
Aveeran and humans were not the only species that populated this world, not by any measure.
He felt like he’d been thrust straight into a Dungeons and Dragons campaign, when he thought about it. They briefly spoke to the town council, a collection of six individuals. Two were human, two were Aveerans colored like a macaw parrot–twins, even–but Shawn wasn’t prepared for the other two.
The first was a roughly lizard-looking female, with bright green eyes, and yellow scales, standing on two legs, and possessing a short tail. She stood about a meter and a sixty centimeters tall–fairly short, in retrospect–and spoke with a slight lisp of an accent, on account of her forked tongue. When he shook her hand in greetings, he noticed her scaled flesh was warm–very warm, even. It was not indicative of an unregulated metabolism.
He found that fascinating. Despite the appearance of scales, this suggested she was warm-blooded. She was the head historian and researcher of the town, and she told him her species was called the Lovar’ii.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
She was also quite energetic, and Claire looked frazzled after the warm greeting. “So you’re from Earth? My goodness, there hasn’t been anyone from there in a while! At least, around here! Usually, the Radiants stockpile them in their little retreats, and send them on important missions. Then they get murdered by giant monsters, walk into one of the many hazards of Remaria, or try to take on an army. They don’t last too long!” she added with an eye roll. “Oh goodness, names! I’m Alara, and you guys are…”
“I’m Claire, this is Shawn,” she offered. She glanced at the other counsel member, a bipedal that Shawn thought looked suspiciously like a kitsune or other fox-like being, right from his manga novels. The young male looked unimpressed, with the way he scowled with dark red fur with black and white accents on his face and hands, and ochre-colored eyes. He didn’t even offer a handshake. “You are?” Claire asked, in an attempt to break the ice.
“Riggs. I run imports and exports for the town, mostly timber, and some agrarian products, too. Forgive me if I don’t shake your hand. Summons have a short life expectancy, and I don’t like to get attached to people who usually end up dead in a month. Though, Telga's folks have fared much better, the few she has brought in,” he added with a disgusted sound emanating from his throat.
Shawn aimed an anxious glance at Telga, who looked annoyed at the young man, before responding. “Riggs, I understand your viewpoint–”
“No, you don’t. Every time a Radiant tries to import a ‘solution’, it ends badly for everyone else. Do you think your brother isn’t doing the same thing? Or Mikealson, downspin of us?” He gritted his pointy teeth, eyes narrowed at Telga. “I like being in the ass-end of nowhere, where the biggest dangers are the monsters. I can deal with the monsters. Imported murder machines? I run for the hills when they show up, thanks.”
“Relax! Do we look dangerous?” Claire asked in a sweetened voice. The vulpine scuffed his foot pad on the wooden floor and clicked his tongue. “We’ve just been through a traumatic ordeal, and we’d like less of that, thanks.”
“Look babe, if you last a month, I’ll be impressed. Last longer than that…” he smiled as he gazed at her as if examining her intensely. “I might have to buy you dinner.”
“Yeah, you’re not really my type, guy. Not including that shiny personality, either,” she scowled and crossed her arms, while Riggs chuckled softly.
“Suit yourself. If you last longer than a month, you might earn my respect, at the least." Shawn was tempted to say something unflattering–but let it stand. Claire could easily handle this guy.
He soon met the remaining council who represented more mundane activities–town clerical duties, record keeping, and construction teams. One was a militia member, filling in the slot for Garrett or Regia. They were still debriefing with the militia on the situation, and would join them later.
After making brief introductions, it was late afternoon, with the sunbeams interspersed between the massive trees surrounding the town. Shawn noted a gravel path, well maintained and lit, that led outward onto a winding path through the forest, past the larger trees, and into the more terrestrial-sized forest. He also noted the town was surrounded partially by steep hills that did not seem readily traversable; the front gate was the easiest way in. He also observed the militia had a few members perched on watch towers, always on the lookout, armed with rifles and what looked like some kind of optical scopes.
He pointed to one casually and got Varrick’s attention. “Why are there always armed lookouts?” Varrick grunted softly, standing stoically as he glanced in that direction.
“Your arrival wasn't enough of a clue? There are plenty of monsters big enough to treat the town as a feasting ground, let’s say. We have several gestalt users with considerable firepower to deal with large threats, and we also have some alchemical weapons to deal with foes. Do you have giant, fire-wreathed salamanders about six meters long, that can set off forest fires during the dry season? Or are they constantly eating any poor soul in their path?” he asked, his beak creased in a smirk.
“No. We don’t have those, where we come from,” Shawn said with a moment of dread. “What else is out there?”
“Large predators. Some look feline, others look like an…it’s got a tough scaled hide, and rolls around in a ball. Dunno how it gains momentum, but it’ll crush you into paste if you don’t get out of its way.” Shawn looked at Varrick blankly.
“You have killer armadillos, out here?”
“Is that a creature from Earth?”
“Um…not exactly.” He rubbed the bridge of his beak and sighed. “And, these threats are big enough to warrant a persistent armed watch?”
“Welcome to Remaria,” Varrick grinned. “This giant ball of scattered rocks has plenty of dangers, and the skeletal remains of people and old civilizations dot the whole landscape. Even the Radiants and their misguided efforts at conquest still aren’t the top threat. Monsters, storms, weird environmental magic can be troublesome. Or, a wrong step out a gravity well that’ll eject you out of the atmosphere…it gets a little strange at the tectonic edge, so we try to map and mark it."
It was hard to keep a haggard look from creeping onto his face. This planet is so messed up, Halsey. Did Varrick say you can even get yeeted into space?!
Unfortunately. I was more worried about the plethora of giant monsters that chew on humanoid birds for breakfast. They rate higher on my list of probable causes of your death.
Halsey, what's my leading likely cause of death? Just out of morbid curiosity.
Pissing off Claire.
Shawn kept his reaction muted. “That’s…helpful to know. Claire, you should take that Etteria, and power up.”
“Hell, no, Shawn! Look what it did to you!” she protested, shaking her head vigorously. “Maybe if I feel like it’s death either way, I’d consider it!”
“Claire? You are bite-sized, and your fists of fury are not going to do diddly to monsters,” he countered. “Varrick, let’s call it a day, and get settled in. I want to start figuring out a way to be useful to the town, because I’ve got a whole planet to search once we’re in decent shape.”
“For what reason?”
“Well, killing a sadistic, power-hungry god is a good start. Then I need to find someone from Earth who was dragged here. Involuntarily. If she survived ten years here, she’s gonna be pissed to find out that some of her favorite bands broke up while she’s been stuck here.” Claire rolled her eyes at this.
“If Maggie survived this world for ten years, I worry about what state she'll be in if we find her, Shawn. Boy band breakups are going to be the least of her concerns–”
A shrill whistle sounded from one of the guard towers, and Shawn snapped attention to the controlled shouts from one of the watch members, and a silver disk on Varrick’s vest lit up. “Town Militia, all hands! Got a pack of Jabberyowls coming in!”
“A jabber-what?”
Shawn wanted to fly to see what the distress was, but someone was already firing their rifle. A shrill screech, followed by several others, emanated from beyond the wall. Several rifle shots cracked in the distance, and Varrick grabbed his rifle off his sling, and checked the chamber, looking at both of them. “Fall back, we’ll deal with this.”
“Oh hell no, if we’re going to earn our keep, we’re killing monsters!” Claire fumed. That infernal screech was getting louder, and Shawn gasped as it became a death rattle.
A large, furry creature the size of a compact car leaped almost two stories and landed inside the town perimeter wall. It was already riddled with bullet wounds that trickled blood, but it showed no signs of slowing down, and it leered at their small party. There was a scream as another creature leaped onto one of the watchtowers, and the Aveeran manning it barely got away from a set of swiping paws. They had instantly unfurled their emerald wings with a burst of speed into the air, and fired while retreating, sharp cracks of rifle fire pinging it relentlessly.
Shawn took in the visage of the creature staring them down, snarling. It had all the appearance of a large, black-furred feline larger than a tiger, and its face ended in a bloodied, hooked beak. Short, stubby wings emerged from its back; its fur stood tensed, and it hissed at them. The tail was muscular and powerful, with short spiky protrusions running from the base of the tail, all the way down the spine. This creature was the winged version of the Bandersnatch, minus the 'muting out the world' power he'd observed.
Varrick tossed his revolver sidearm to Claire. "Jabberyowl, pack hunters. Gotta kill the head of the pack, before they’ll retreat.”
Claire checked the weapon while Shawn tensed, feeling that familiar spark of fury coursing from his core, down to the tips of his claws, and motes of fire emerged from his palm. He wished he hadn't left his revolver behind. “Which one is the head of the pack?!”
“The biggest, meanest one that’s staring down at us.” Varrick gritted his beak and shouldered his rifle in an instant, aiming. “They’re fast. You take a swipe from those claws, you’re dead.”
Halsey, this planet is insane, and we’re being thrown into the deep end again!
You might want to start channeling your Etteria core to make fireballs to deal with the hungry predator! Why do you have to look so damn tasty to them?!
As if reading his mind and his tensed stance, the creature pounced with incredible speed over the distance, using its wings as airfoils to guide on target at Shawn, who felt a surge of heat course through him. This critter was three meters of clawed death and primal rage, aimed at him.
Now he knew exactly how the birds felt when his pet cat brought them home, to deposit on his doorstep as a morbid gift.
Halsey, you're being such a mood, here. Shawn's a birdman on a planet of killer cats, he needs to focus.
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