Beyond

Jacky Wong

Final title name pending.

This is a book I'm writing mostly for myself. It's based in my homebrew D&D 5e world, in which I hosted a multi-year campaign (now indefinetely-delayed) and a couple of one-shot adventures. It generally follows 5e mechanics, monsters, spells, etc., but some parts are reflavored or changed. As such, please do not expect the events in this book to strictly follow 5e rules. Also, because this story takes heavy inspiration from D&D, I have no plans to sell it.

The campaign previously mentioned takes place a few years after this book. In other words, this book is a prequel to the events in the campaign. The main character in this story was an important late-game NPC in the campaign and a the main NPC in one of my one-shot adventures.

I have to thank my players for letting me be a DM for the first time and for helping me build this world.

Inspiration for the story elements, characters, and plot are taken from many places. Any coincidences are exactly as such, a coincidence.

Chapter 1

Relaxing on a branch of a bare-leafed tree, I watch as a modest boat sails away into the night. The dual moons shine brightly through a cloudless sky while the calm waters of the Gulf reflect a lone torch on the vessel, bobbing up and down as its passengers move around and settle into a long journey home. There are four of them; it looks like the older lady is taking the first shift navigating.

A gentle wind blew in from the south, shifting around the top layers of sand on the beach below me. I took a deep breath of the cool night air, the first in a while.

How long have I been here? I wasn’t sure anymore, although it must have been at least a half dozen months. In the grand scheme of things, that length of time is nothing.

I remained in the tree for a few more minutes, thinking about the events that transpired about a few hours before. A shiver. Anyone hearing a transcription of them would call it a comedic play. I realized that any of my peers would have scoffed at my lack of strength, my moment of weakness. “Stooping so low, Miss Eirlys? Begging for help? Pitiful, especially for someone of your… caliber.”

My mind wandered. How long can adrenaline power those on the other side of this so-called Athar? In any case, any that did course through my veins has long since stopped. Suddenly, feeling a wave of tiredness, I couldn’t even stay balanced hanging off of this branch. I drop down, tumble right-side-up, and eventually land on my true two feet on the brisk sand. To my right, my trusty weapon partially sticking out from the ground. A weak smile escaped from my lips, like a small token of thanks. I pick it up and use it to support myself as my legs drag along the ground towards the cave entry. Another breeze comes through the beach, rustling my messy, bloody hair. My gaze follows its path towards the water; the ship all but a speck in the horizon.

I blink a few times and brushed a few grains of sand off of my face. I’ll see you all again, I’m sure of it. Fate will cross our paths again.

Chapter 2

A few minutes later, I arrived in the cave I once called home for far too long. Unfortunately, the air of the night sky has not yet penetrated its way into the ground below. My senses are assaulted with the stench of battle and the remains of the blobs of goo I had held back. Peering around the room, I see my ragged belongings to my left and a few large bags of various coins and jewels to my front. A short gust of wind from behind me grants a brief respite against the smell. It blows towards the right further into the maze of tunnels.

I plod towards my bed. Along the way, I poke some goo with my weapon. Dead as a doornail, if not a bit mushier than one. A sigh of relief escapes, temporarily forgetting the mild chance of asphyxiation. Arriving at my bed a few steps later, I collapse face-first into the comfort of the straw-stuffed mattress. My sword thuds against the dirt ground as another wave of exhaustion comes across my body and eyes. A final glance across the room again to make sure there are no more threats; none remained.

I do not remember when my eyes closed nor when I fell asleep. In fact, I do not remember having any dreams that night.

Solus does not discriminate on where she shines. Her rays reach far and wide to every surface, letting the beings of Europa - fortunate enough to reach past everyone else - bask in her warmth. Regrettably, Solus has decided to reach around the cave entrance and graze my sleeping self.

My eyes slowly welcome the familiar sight of a dirt ceiling. What a bother, I think as I sat upward. Looking outside, it should be early morning. I don’t usually stay awake during the morning, but my rest was good enough to at least clear this place of my presence. I want to leave this island as soon as possible.

Something shiny struck my attention as I looked around. I got up and looked at its direction. The goo had mostly dispersed into the dirt, but a coin remains suspended in what little remains. Upon closer inspection, it was a Spaelorian silver coin. Spaelor… The nation’s name echoed through my mind as I cleaned up the remains of the previous night’s battle.

Before the four that departed earlier, there was another group of adventurers that came about a month before. Unlike the recent four, this group of five was aggressive and attacked me immediately. Out for blood, it seemed. I thought that I was defending myself well, but my attention faltered for just a few moments and the strong magic I was concentrating on lost its strength. The grotesque amalgamation of goo leaked from the ceiling and attacked both me and the adventurers with reckless abandon. I tried to divert its attention away while trying to convince the party to stop attacking me. None of it worked and the ooze managed to engulf three of them. Seeing their failure, the last two abandoned their friends and ran back towards the tunnels. I managed to weaken the monstrosity enough to force it back into the earth above, start the magic again, and seal it away.

My success, if I can call it that, was not without heavy loss. I lost a lot of energy and blood… My legs were gone below the knees, my right arm dissolved by the ooze, a large gash ran down the entirety of my left side. I managed to stop the bleeding through some magic, but I felt him. I felt a sense of doom looming over my pathetic self as I continued to use my strength to hold the ooze back.

The pool of blood I had laid in has mostly dried up by now as I shift dirt around to spread it out. I cannot believe I let some rowdy wanna-be do-gooders reduce me to this state, I thought while focused on my current task at hand.

My breathing had returned mostly to normal while I remained concentrating on the magic, but almost nothing else. Even the energy required to return my sword back into my body was too much to ask for. Without much else to do, I returned to trying to find an answer to the question: How do I kill this godsforsaken ooze? Initial attempts were futile as it was able to dismiss both my physical attacks and my meager magic. I had tasked myself to trap this… thing on this island named Rubiconium at the cost of my own freedom. I figured that this desolate place was far enough from any civilization to give me plenty of time to think of how to kill it. Luring the ooze here was easy enough and the spell scroll at my side gave me the confidence that I can keep it at bay. I had set up a small camp at the end of this maze of tunnels I found; a few traps were spread throughout to keep any suspecting onlookers away. The ooze was forced into the soil and sealed in with the knowledge in the scroll. A decent set up and a good puzzle to solve, I thought.

I racked my brain anew while waiting for my condition to improve. A few minutes turned into an hour, a few hours into a day… and days into a week. A realization started to sink in: I wasn’t healing, but rather not at all.

Why…?

Why am I not recovering…?

Aside from the bleeding I stopped initially, my injuries have not improved whatsoever. On the contrary, it was taking increasingly more effort to maintain the magic and even a steady breath.

True fear is not a common emotion. One only feels this when what they hold most dear is threatened. I had experienced this only once before, about a few hundred years ago. A shiver went down my spine as I recognized this feeling again.

…

I was dying.

Its presence was not my imagination, death was coming and I was absolutely powerless to stop it.

“Help…” I croaked. Of course, nothing could hear me. Not even the stars could notice my pleading.

At present, I turn my attention to the entry of the tunnels. The opening is not too large, about ten feet tall and ten feet wide. Should be easy enough to hide this again, I thought before vividly recalling my past self yearning for something, anything, to come through the tunnel and give me hope. The question that had previously occupied my mind was replaced with alternating prayer and insanity.

“Anyone, help… Please…” No answer.

It turned out to be about two weeks before I heard shuffling through the maze of tunnels. This must be madness sinking in… But I heard conversation coming louder and louder until a quartet of ragged individuals stood warily a few yards before me. My eyes fluttered at this development before I begged once again,

“Help…”

Understandably, they didn’t come any closer; the sight before these adventurers’ eyes was completely foreign to them. A mostly dismembered body laying on the bloody dirt, pale skin and gray hair matted with grime, wearing a tunic caked with cold sweat. Slowly, I propped my torso up with my remaining arm. Their whispers were quickly hushed. I weakly smiled, just baring my fangs at the party.

“I… Need… Blood.”

A few hurried steps back told me that this group was not aggressive, nay, they were quite prudent in retrospect. They seemed to discuss the potential consequences of helping the one that lay before them. After some deliberation, the older woman stepped forward. Any layman with a sound mind would know that this was a stupid decision, but she did anyway.

“My name is Dalila Heliot,” her voice rattling through the mostly empty cave, almost like your typical cranky apothecarist. Human, she seemed. “Let me help you.” I found out later the ones flanking the druid were named: Galumir Barrelheart, the dwarven tank of the party, Halret Marblebrush, the aspiring halfling hero, and Ashryn Yinjor, the elven cleric.

Dalila gingerly walked within earshot of my weak voice, where I managed to explain my situation. “I’m holding back… a monster, but I'm too weak to do it for much longer… I was attacked a bit ago…. Please, just a little… I’m dying.”

The pleading must have reached her senses as she quickly agreed to help at the cost of her well-being. My vitality surged instantly as I bit down. A groan escaped as color returned to the pale face I didn't even realize I had, while the slash down my left began to finally close.

That was addicting.

Feeling the caress of death move away right before my very eyes is a feeling I will not forget. And in the moment, I could do nothing but relish in the warmth of life that I was so starved of. The cries of my victim’s allies could not reach my senses, nor did I want to stop.

There was no resistance from the fountain that was Dalila, so there was no warning when Ashryn, as caring as she apparently was, pulled her limp body out from my clutches. “Hey, what gives? Damn savage, tricking us, you’ve nearly killed her!”

Primal instincts kicked in as anger propelled my body forward, fighting for what was suddenly taken from me. Fortunately for the group, most of one humanoid’s ichor was not enough to have regained all of my strength or limbs. The attack was easily evaded as my body returned to the dirt. I batted my eyes. My senses slowly returned as I realized what I had just attempted.

Unfortunately, the lapse of concentration was a severe error. Red dripping from the corners of my mouth, I briefly explained the source of my injuries. “... Furthermore, I am here to put an end to a monster. An endless, unsatiated lust for more victims fueling a single inhumane being… And I haven’t been able to stop it myself.”

There were only a few seconds to gauge the reactions from the group before I realized my magic had completely died a few minutes ago. It was too late to react to the surprised looks as a crimson mass had cascaded from the pores in the dirt ceiling, enveloping me in a viscous, acidic jail.

Once again, instincts took over as my lungs attempted to fill themselves with air; instead, toxins were forced into my body, quickly eating at me from the inside-out. Newly healed skin was dissolved into the monster while I futilely attempted to escape. Movement became impossible as I succumbed to an all-encompassing burning pain. As my eyes lowered, they saw the adventurers unsheathe their weapons.

A pointless exercise… So this is how it ends…

I cannot recall how long the ensuing battle took. I only remember being jolted awake as one of the fools targeted the ooze with lightning magic. My gaze turned towards the origin of the strike. Beaten, battered, but still standing. Even retrospectively, their persistence bewilders me.

Suspended within the body of the ooze, I braced myself. If these brave adventurers were putting up a fight, there were no excuses for me. It took my entire strength to shift inch-by-inch to a possibly better position. But try as I could, I could not manage to summon my sword.

Right before the strike connected, I saw a brilliant flash of light in front of my eyes. Halret’s sword burned through the ooze and momentarily created a small gap of air… an opportunity. At this moment, I drew my blade and slashed sideways at the ooze, rupturing its outer membrane from within. An eruption of goo as I collapsed outside of it, coughing for the dusty air. Instinctively, my head turned to the threat, where there was not just the one ooze I imprisoned previously, but rather two slightly smaller ones engaging the adventurers.

From the gash I made, the larger of the two monsters began to extrude what could only be identified as a head… a grotesque caricature of my head as if mocking me.

“You are much stronger than the previous group. It’s a shame that this… crippled parasite cannot do much to help you,” it shrieked. “Sorry, but our date is over.”

An incantation began from the head, mystical words weaving what I had assumed was a powerful spell. I desperately hurled my sword at the source but simply slipped through the head. My eyes met its own for a second before the room suddenly shifted to a new reality.

The ground suddenly became a moss-covered inch of still water, muddy paths poking out like worm trails behind a tavern’s garbage. Low-hanging trees and algae blocked Solus’s blessings. A groggy air clung to our sweaty skin. What was my cave had turned into their own habitat.

“Welcome… to your grave…” The pair of monstrosities began to swell as they took in moisture from the ground and air, quickly healing up what used to be the gash I made in its membrane, but the sear it took seemed to recover just a bit slower. “Impressive, is it not?”, it gloated as if in the middle of a coliseum. “The pitiful leech here cannot even stand straight, much less restore her vitality! Pathetic! Compared to my now unending strength, you lot are nothing!”

I clenched my teeth and summoned my sword; it wobbled across the mud from where it laid, tumbled through the air, and landed firmly in my grasp. Propping myself up on my sword with my remaining arm, I wearlily stood up. A call came through my labored breathing to my allies: “We must chop them down at the same time and use that blade,” gesturing to Halret’s weapon, “to make sure they don’t come back.”

The sequence of actions that came next blurred into a single mass of chaos and blood that I cannot recall exactly at present. Perhaps it was a lack of energy that powered me to act on impulse alone, like a feral beast protecting its home. Or maybe I suffered a harsh blow to the head some time during the brawl. What little of the memories that remain hold the feeling of just matching the efforts from the already ragged travelers, slogging at the pair of oozes with sword and sorcery, while most of the damage inflicted was recovered instantly. We had nearly exhausted ourselves trying to seemingly deal any significant amount of damage to the ooze.

All of a sudden, the scene shifted away from the swamp and back to the familiar dirty cave.

Standing now where I had reappeared, a quick look around the area showed no more evidence of my lodging, all having now been moved into my portable hole. Shifting the dirt around hid the small amount of blood and ooze that remained. The hole requires folding up to transport; while neatly doing so, my attention wandered back in time.

As the false reality disappeared, the oozes suddenly started to droop as if its skin was losing integrity. The adventurers sprung forth with a new energy, hoping to end it all. A blast of fire and sharp thorns erupted from the ground while the brawlers ran forward, brandishing goo-stained weapons. It all seemed like a ray of light poking through a stormy sky.

Once again, actions were faster than reasoning, as my body moved to meet the enemies in a similar manner. The scorched oozes, seemingly out of strength without their swamp, provided only a small amount of resistance as my attack met the smaller of the two’s flesh. At the same time, its partner suffered blows from the duo and began to collapse.

“Here!”

In response, Halret whipped over and cleaved at the one in front of me. Steaming goo gushed out as ooze groaned without a final word.

We held guard in the case of it being another act, but our victory became certain as the remains began to soak into the dirt. I collapsed first, my body having been pushed long past its breaking point.

Deep, slow breaths filled the room as we caught our breaths. It seemed to be a few long minutes before one of us spoke up. “Thank you,” as my subconscious spoke, much to my surprise. There was a clank of metal as one of the adventurers slowly shifted around to face me.

“You never introduced yourself… Name’s Galumir,” the dwarf mumbled while seemingly analyzing me again.

“Eir-” before a searing pain within my chest stopped my response. _Must be the acid. _Quickly kneeling back down, I restarted with a groan. “Well, Eirlys is what most would call me… But it would be a disservice to my… allies. Grayce.”

“Are you a-”

“Yes,”

“You’re not like the ones I’ve heard about, that’s for sure.” A quip from the halfling, who had turned towards me as well.

“My apologies.”

“It’s a bit late by now, but pleased to meet your acquaintance,” he nodded. “I’m Halret.”

“Oh, aren’t you as chipper as ever,” replied Dalila, who did not need a reintroduction. In a quieter tone to the elf aside her, “I will be fine. Just a little rest.”

After making sure that the older woman was comfortable against the dirt wall, the elf marched over, fists curled, to where I had been recovering, apparently a bit angry. In no uncertain terms, she wanted to swing at me. But when she had reached all but three paces away, she turned around.

“By the gods, what were we thinking?” Words cut through the still air. “We nearly died! And for what? To save this so-called vampire from her own damn problem? Us four should have ran right back through the labyrinth and- and…” She slumped down. A pause, then a glance backwards. A few tears ran down her cheeks.

After a few more minutes of rest and recuperation, Ashryn apologized and introduced herself. I then provided a better explanation on my past situation and why I was held up in a dirt cave in a deserted island in the middle of the Gulf of Surster; after all, they helped extinguish my problem. It was clearly enough to satisfy their questions as they, minus the first volunteer, offered to provide more blood to help restore my own regeneration abilities. Taking extra care to not fall into another dangerous lull, I accepted.

The adventurers, who identified themselves as a group from the northern mainland, outlined their own reasons for exploring Rubiconim. Their quest-givers, who were a religious group located in the western nation of Spaelor that taught the god of the afterlife Athar’s blessings, promised them much glory and riches if they were to locate a weapon of legend that had been tracked down to this island. A major conflict, if not an outright war, was and still is being fought between the eastern and western nations of Fuscor and Spaelor respectively. I was not privy to the exact details, but the four explained the conflict was reaching an apex, against Spaelor’s favor. This mythical weapon could turn the tide back to the western nation.

A previous party was sent to identify and retrieve this weapon. Clearly, they were referring to the party I encountered before, now dead. At this point in time, the current party was still referring to the weapon exactly as such, “The Weapon”. Clarification was needed.

“Uhh… We don’t actually know the appearance, abilities, or really anything of this weapon,” Galumir sheepishly explained. “There are a few versions of the stories that mention the weapon. Some tell of a power once held by a magical force. Others say it’s actually a magical sword that provides its wielder the ability to command one’s enemies.”

Dalila further describes some stories she had heard, ending with, “Oh yes, I also remember a barkeep friend of mine saying that the weapon is a monster that can level an entire battlefield! Can you believe that!”

“Level an entire battlefield? You’re saying that we could have been murdered by this mystical power and you did not warn us?” exclaimed Halret, who was cleaning off his armor but then paying attention.

“Slipped my mind, I suppose.”

A few seconds of silence before Halret speaks again. “Wait…” It had seemed like he was mentally calculating something. His lips moved slightly, muttering under his breath.

“By the gods…”

The halfling jolted upward with a start. “It’s you! You’re gods-damned golden treasure that we’ve been looking for!”

The other three had shot their heads towards their ally, then moved their glances towards me first in confusion, then bewilderment.

My response: “Well, once you add everything together, it would seem as if that is the case. Not like there’s anything else here.” Speechless, the adventurers continued to listen. “By the looks on your faces, no, I only realized that I am your proverbial grail of a weapon a few minutes ago.

“Really, I am flattered by all of the stories you lot have been telling. A lot of fairy tales are based in truth, I will have you know. It’s just that mortals often miss important details and exaggerate others. Although, it has been a long time since I flattened an army.”

“Ah… By Europa’s luck. And we’ve nursed our target back to health,” Ashryn retorted. Their donations, at that point, have allowed me to regain my regeneration abilities, evident by the elf’s gesture at my new arm. “How are we supposed to drag a vampire back to the Church when they can kill us at a moment’s notice or just do your transforming ‘thing’ and run away?”

“I agree. Being captured and enslaved does not suit my fancy.”

“Well, we can’t just go back empty-handed,” said Galumir. “But I’m also not interested in finding out how we fare in a fight,” as he motioned between me and himself.

After the few of us perused our options, it quickly became clear that the only one remaining was to let them take back something that proved the adventurers had encountered me and lived to tell the tale. I had a few sacks of various treasures and jewels; the four of them were more than happy to take a small portion and to carry a word from me that I would visit their Church.

“Uh… Your Highness,” Halret started, “with all due respect, does that mean you will be fighting alongside the Spaelorian army? And help us win the war?”

Surprisingly, the rest of his friends shot him another glare.

I smiled. “I shall make no such promises, but let them know that I will… consider it.”

Rested and pockets lined with a small fortune, the party headed back to the surface of the small island. I took down a camouflaged barricade that I made through the eastern wall of the cave, which led straight to the chilly night sky. That allowed them to bypass the various monsters and traps that they had encountered a few hours earlier, while getting a shortcut back to the coast.

I followed them back to where their ship was moored, keeping my distance so as to not arouse any suspicion from any unexpected visitors. Grass turning into sand, the party looked behind them, almost worryingly; I gave a nod in response while shifting my weight from my sword.

The ship had its anchor raised and secured in a slow and deliberate manner. It was then directed back north by two of the pseudo-sailors while floating just above the tide. At this point, I had rested my sword in the sand and perched in a nearby tree, watching the small keelboat sail through the calm waters.

Having packed up all of my belongings into a small satchel and cleaning any evidence of my stay, I was ready to leave the cave. It was now about midday and rays of sunshine beat down through my exit. I don my dirty cloak and head outside, taking a sharp right into a group of trees and their shade. I unravel the spell scroll in my hand. It activates and I begin to quickly fill back in the cave with my temporary magical abilities. After some time, no trace of my being could be seen even from Solus’s point of view.

A quick glance around to double-check my surroundings. All clear.

As I begin to shift into a small bat, I think. Hmm… My appearance is quite sad. If I really want to visit this Church of Athar, I suppose they won’t take me seriously if I showed up like this. Might as well survey the whole situation a bit myself too.

I decide to head back north towards the fighting nations, through the annoying rays of sunshine.

Chapter 3

The entire trip took many hours. Luckily, I was able to perch on a few ships that massively helped speed up the journey; it seemed nobody took notice of my presence anyways. As the boredom of sailors’ conversations got to me, it became increasingly obvious that I needed some sort of teleportation, not to mention better magical abilities as a whole. I could never get a hang of reciting incantations without a spell scroll, much to the disappointment of peers past.

It’s just a novice spell, Grayce!

I apologize, my Lord, I swear I’m following your instructions perfectly!

Tsk. You can’t make a small hand appear before you, what do you think will happen when you engage in battle with someone skilled in the arcane?

I… I don’t know!

Your ‘fancy sword tricks’ aren’t going to save you and you have no means of escape. You. Will. Die.

A scowl appeared on my face while recalling the scene. While no longer as pitiful as I was back then, my skills in the arcane are still lacking. This usually does not matter due to my superior martial ability, but fighting does not help during long seaborne travel…

Resting on the otherwise empty crow’s nest on a large sailing ship, I see a mass of land creeping into the horizon. Judging from the conversation below, we were arriving in the major port city of Pacifica, conveniently belonging to the western nation of Spaelor. The captain suddenly bellowed out to her crew a flurry of commands to prepare for their “grand” entrance. Usually, a bat flying around where coastal birds reside would be suspicious; however, the commotion created a convenient exit that I promptly took.

The few minutes of flying provided an opportunity to let me survey the area. The wet docks are nearly empty; only a few fishing vessels and one passenger ship are moored and none of them showed any signs of life. I suspect most of the usual ships in such a big port are being held in the dry docks.

A more thorough scan, unfortunately, did not produce the small vessel Dalila and her companions used for their travel.

The vacant docks provide a good view of the scenery by the shore. Dozens of stone buildings of various shapes and sizes were lined up behind the large wooden walkways. A huge stone wall stretched across and around the entire city and up several hundred feet into the skies. Hundreds of structures are enclosed within the protective walls, a portion of which on the western quarter sat proudly above the rest on a large hill. Behind the fortified coastal city loomed a snow-capped mountain, protecting the Pacifica citizens from harm in the North. Sunlight broke through the small cracks in the otherwise cloud-packed skies, illuminating my destination while a light breeze flowed in from the ocean.

Despite the lack of ships and early morning time, it seems like the city was bustling with activity. Some people stood to the side talking to each other, others were rushing through the crowds late to some meeting. More were starting up a new day of business, yet many others were enjoying the salty breeze. Even the towers dotting the city wall flickered with commotion from the city’s defenses.

As I arrive closer to the shoreline, a mildly grand building stands proudly near the center of the sea-facing wall, next to the city gates. It seems like a sort of adventurers’ guild: a perfect spot to land.

I fly a bit higher as to not attract so much attention before gliding over to the tall roof of the guild building. As I swiftly land a bit away from the edge, I notice a sign mounted in front of the entrance on the ground floor: Resurge Hiring Board.

Not exactly an adventurer’s guild, I suppose.

While I become acquainted with my immediate surroundings, I think about my next steps while listening to the dialogue below.

It quickly became evident that a few days before my arrival, this nation wrapped up celebrations of the end of the “Year 1632 of Our Savior”. Apparently, the nation, whose soil I currently stand on, miraculously made a temporary armistice with the eastern nation of Fuscor to celebrate the holidays, set to end after the first of the new year. The hustle and bustle below, therefore, are from the Spaelorians cleaning up and preparing for a new beginning.

And, evident from underlying nervousness, the resuming of a ferocious battle.

In any case, my immediate next steps are to sneak into the city proper and familiarize myself with it, the nation of Spaelor, the conflict they have with Fuscor, and the religious organization that sent two groups of adventurers to find what turned out to be me.

The first task is easy. I tracked the closest two guard towers to the east and west of my location, observing that the guards’ attention is not particularly focused towards anything but themselves. A few flaps of my wings bring me over the wall; a quick glance pinpoints my destination; a swift dive returns me back to the ground. Even before my landing, I begin to morph into my true form, allowing me to land with elegance.

Well, as much elegance as possible. I quickly remembered that my appearance remains ragged and unsightly from the Rubiconium trip. Gathering my composure, I quickly checked for the presence of my satchel on my left and ducked into the shadows provided by my surroundings. As my location is between two small homes near the city wall, there seems to be nobody nearby. A quick look around the left corner proves just as much, but a couple hundred feet around my right corner reveals many people going on with their day. Most of them seem to be queuing to cross though the guarded gates.

Comparing my simple but disheveled gray tunic and equally gruesome hair to the townsfolk, even an idiot could tell that I looked like a foreigner that somehow sneaked through the city walls. Too much attention.

“Uhh.. Excuse me, miss?”

Shit.

While I was focused on looking around the immediate area in front of me, trying to plot a path to take without alerting any of the crowd to the right, someone snuck up behind me.

“You look lost, do you need some help?” asked the voice behind me.

I put on a decent smile and turned around. Below my eye line is a young elvish boy looking curiously up at me.

“Oh, I’m just looking around. You don’t have to worry about me.”

He appeared to think for a few seconds before replying. “My daddy works right over there,” pointing over to the gates I avoided a few minutes ago. “He can help you with anything!”

“Your daddy raised a good boy. Now go off, don’t let me bother you anymore,” I said as I shooed him away with my hand.

“Okay! My name is Arlen, by the way! It was nice meeting you, bye!” giggled the boy, who then ran off towards the opposite direction of the gate, along the wall.

Thankfully, the boy didn’t seem to pay any particular attention to me aside from any youthful curiosity. After having regained my composure, I had set off from my hiding spot in search of a more fitting outfit and to wash the grime off of me.

A hot meal would be nice too, I think to myself while walking on a less-traveled path. I had spotted a small column of smoke and caught the slight scent of bread to my north-west, both indications of somewhere that might suit my needs. Even though most people paid no attention to me, some gave a couple of quick glances over. My own eyes focused on the road ahead of me, ignoring them.

After a few more minutes of walking, I arrive in a small plaza marked by a modest sign a bit off the path: “Westtown Grove”. Despite trying to avoid the main center of the city, a sizable amount of people are present, traveling around and through this plaza. Proudly displayed at the center is a stone fountain and a bard chanting poems while playing a lyre. Nearby, merchants gesture towards their goods while craftsmen work on their trades. The dirt road I came from turned to nicely cobbled paths that connect the plaza’s inlets. There are some traces of celebration along the sides of the plaza - torn-up banners, spent fireworks, broken glass - soiling the otherwise fairly clean area.

My nose and appetite find the source of the scent quickly; along the west side is a tavern with open doors, beckoning all who go near. I accept the welcome and head straight there.

The plain exterior appearance of the tavern deceives any passersby as the cozy interior quickly brings forth memories of a more simple, comfortable time. The walls are lined with large windows that let in plenty of light and colorful handmade tapestries that perk up the atmosphere. A small fireplace crackles in the corner. And there are a few groups of people sitting around wooden tables, enjoying each others’ company.

The barkeep looks up from cleaning her mugs. “Hiya! Just yourself?”

I nod.

“Got a seat right here for ya!” she boasted.

The patrons seem to pay no mind to me as I walk past them towards the empty bar.

“Welcome to da Fix’ed Swan. Name’s Rivari, how can I help ya?” she asks me as I sit down on the center seat. The tiefling wears a friendly smile befitting the rest of her establishment.

“Thank you. Was that bread I smelled outside?”

“You’ve got dat right! One of my cooks in the back loooves making fresh bread and our customers seem to like it, so it works out! Wouldja like some?”

“Please. Do you have some stew as well?”

“Bread and stew, it’ll be just a min’,” the barkeep whistles as she walks around the left corner of the bar and into what is presumably the kitchen.

I was not paying any attention to the contents of the conversations held by the other patrons present, but as my food was being prepared, they started to quiet down to a whisper.

A pop from the fireplace as a log falls down.

The sound of a chair scraping along the floor and the steps from a light-footed adventurer followed. Tap. Tap. Tap. They sit down on the seat to my right.

Before they spoke, Rivari twirls around the corner, a steaming bowl in her right hand and a small basket in her left. “Oh, sorry ladies, did I interrupt? Here’s your food, holla and lemme know when you wan’ some more!” As quickly as she dropped off my order, she left.

A few moments pass while the aromas before me tickle my senses. “Uhm…” I shift my attention towards the voice. Human. Middle-aged. Female. Fair skinned. Light robes. Probably some magic user.

“We saw you come in… And you look awfully tired…” Her eyes seem to glance over my forearms, ridden with scars from fighting, while her fingers fidget with a silver trinket. “We wanted to help you…”

My gaze met with hers.

“Oh my, you look quite sickly!” she quipped. “Goodness, at- at this distance, you can’t fool anybody! You need some serious help.” The now-animated woman gestures towards my food. “Eat up.”

“I was starting to think you wouldn’t let me eat,” I reply as a spoonful of the piping hot beef stew arrives at my lips. Mmmmm… This is good…

A quick glance over and I see the woman return to fidgeting with her trinket. The conversations a few yards over have resumed to a normal volume.

I rip off a piece of the freshly baked bread… Two pieces. Taking care to not show my fangs, I bite into my portion and present the other to my neighbor.

“Uhh… Are you sure? You need it more than I…” In response, my hand inches forward. “Thank you.” She takes it.

A couple more scoops of the stew later, she speaks again. “Jydnak, our fighter, he saw that you look pretty strong. He thought that you would be a great addition to our little crew. It’s just the four of us, every so often there’s a quest or adventure that looks great but we can’t really tackle it ourselves… Oh, where are my manners? My name is Elisabet, I’m a follower of Athar and our healer. There’s also Yarasteck, he’s a monk, and Falonir, she's the big brute and keeps our enemies away from me.”

With another piece of bread in my mouth, I look over at the party she is describing. They seem to have some experience under their belt, but a lot to learn still.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll stop bothering you while you’re eating. We’ll wait for you over at our table. I’ll put together a medicine for you as well.” Elisabet turns around and heads back. I continue to slowly enjoy Rivari’s stew and bread.

It seemed like the barkeep was watching me like a hawk, as she swooped in right when I was finishing up what I had ordered. “Was it good?” she asks as she peeps over at the empty seat next to me.

“Very much so, yes. Can I have a whole loaf of this bread wrapped up?”

“Of course! Anything else?”

I shake my head.

Three minutes later, Rivari returns with a neatly wrapped bundle. “That’ll all be two silver!” I reach into the satchel in my lap, pull out one more than she asked, and place them in front of me. “Oh, thank you ver-” she hesitates while reaching for the coins. Her smile drops a fraction of an inch. “You’re not from around ‘ere, are ya?”

“I’m just visiting the area.”

Rivari takes two of the coins and leans in forwards, pushing one coin back towards me. She answers with a whisper. “I, along with everyone else in here, can tell you’ve been in quite a tussle recently. Don’t take no genius to figure that out, ain’t my business asking what my customers are up to. But you could do with a good shower and a fresh change of clothes. Come ‘round the back from the outside, I’ll help get you cleaned up…” Her eyes glance down and back up. “But uhh, I ain’t got nothin’ large enough for ya to wear.”

“That’s fine, I will take you up on your offer. Thank you.”

I place the loaf into my satchel and get up from my seat. A few steps over to Elisabet’s table and they stop talking. The half-orc Falonir stands up and reaches her hand out. I half-smile at her, who is equally as tall as I am but much more stout, but I decline the handshake.

Speaking to the whole group, “Hello. I am flattered by your compliments but unfortunately, I will have to decline your invitation.” Seeing a range of disappointed reactions, I pause for an objection. It appears that there isn’t any, so I continue.“I prefer to stick to myself, I don’t want to… drag your party down with my intrusion.”

At this point, someone speaks. “It would hardly be an intrusion, plus you look like you escaped from some cave or prison by the skin of your teeth! I think you need someone to look after your back if you want to stay in this world!” exclaimed the dwarf, who I presume is Jydnak. “Really, I’d really like for you to reconsider… uhh…”

“Eirlys.”

“Eirlys! Please think it over thoroughly,” he pleads. “A team of us five would be unstoppable!”

“I’m sorry, but no. Why do you even want some random stranger to join your party?”

The stoic dragonborn, probably Yarasteck, replies instead. “We’ve been looking for someone to join us for a while now. Jydnak just asks anybody by themselves who looks like they have some adventuring chops to join.”

“Heh, he also said that you’re quite the looker,” piped Falonir.

“Oi!”

“Anyways,” continued the still-standing member, “if you don’t want to join us, that’s no big deal. Thanks for considering it though.” She grabs a small cloth bundle on the table and hands it to me. “Our friendly cleric kindly made this for you, so please take it.”

Elisabet seems to be looking down at the table, probably twiddling with her trinket again. I take the bundle.

“If you ever want to find us, just look for the Ivory Falls. That’s our party name.”

“I will keep that in mind,” I say with a nod. “Farewell.”

As soon as I step back outside, I turn to the right and head down the alleyway next to the tavern. Nobody seems to be following me. A cool breeze blows by and the shadow cast by the buildings makes for a short refreshing walk. Around the back corner stands Rivari.

“Took ya long enough. I still got folks to tend to. Come ‘ere.” She leads me to the front door of a small cottage home, the outside of which is somehow even plainer than the establishment in front of it. The door was already opened.

“Inside and to ya left. Don’t take too long,” she said, already on her way back into her business.

“Much obliged,” I said. A grunt came in response.

I step inside and get myself cleaned up.

Chapter 4

Even after getting the grime out of my hair and dirt from my skin, a commoner would still take me for a beggar given the poor excuse for clothes I still had. Fortunately, there is a sign located near the tavern that advertises a clothing store off the main road northward from Westtown Grove. My third destination.

It has only been about ten minutes since I left the inside of the tavern, but a quick look inside the open door revealed a missing Ivory Falls.

Likely to be off bothering someone else.

Usually, I would physically separate myself from such an annoying conversation. There are always more important tasks to be completed than entertaining a pointless offer. That being said, getting familiar with the city of Pacifica - and more generally the nation of Spaelor - takes priority. Sticking out any more than necessary is an easy way to get more attention. As I have no information about the Church of Athar, taking a stroll into the unknown organization would be incredibly naive, especially because they wanted to hunt me down.

Therefore, staying low is the best plan for now. And staying low means acting like a weary but polite adventurer.

“Oh, hello! Welcome, welcome!” The shopkeeper greets his new guest with a surprising amount of morning vigor. As I step inside the clothing store, the scents of leather polish, spun rolls of wool, and crisp sheets of linen greet me with similar enthusiasm. A few colorful rugs decorate an otherwise plain floor lined neatly with half-stocked shelves.

“Nice to meet you, sir.”

“And you as well, miss! My first customer of the day, how may I help you? Ah- Actually, before you speak. Let me guess, you need a new change of clothes! Why else would you be here, of course? Silly me. Are you looking for something quick and easy or something more fine-tailored to your tastes and preferences? Ah- Of course, I can work with whatever budget you have!” The shopkeeper stops rambling as he waits for my answer.

“Hmm… I would like two outfits made for me and something I can purchase right now to get out of these rags. A new pair of boots as well. Would fifteen gold suffice for everything?”

“Oh, yes! Of course! Please, take a seat,” as the overly-friendly human gestures in front of him. “Let’s talk about what you’d like and I can get started immediately! Oh, pardon my manners! My name is Bren, my store’s name is Clothes by Bren, but I’m sure you saw that coming in.” He takes out a notebook and pen with his scrawny but seemingly agile hands as I sit down.

The next thirty minutes were spent hashing out the details of what I wanted to disguise myself with. On one hand, Bren did not ask any questions as to why the specifics were as described. Unfortunately, however, the entire process could have been cut in half if the shopkeeper did not explain the minutiae of everything in his store and his tailoring process. At his conclusion, I pay an extra few gold to expedite the fulfillment of the two custom sets of clothes.

“Oh, that won’t really be necessary. It’s not like I have too much of a backlog nowadays, you know?”

I raise my eyebrow.

“Yeah, I had a small queue of orders a few weeks ago in preparation for the celebrations earlier this week, but that’s… all done now…”

He has somehow shut up.

“Gods, I wish this war would be over. Back then, this business,” Bren waves at his wares, “was about art! I enjoyed making my clients look great for a fancy dinner or a beautiful wedding, or be comfortable during their work or out doing adventurers’ quests… Now, it’s mostly just boring uniforms for the, well, very brave soldiers out there. It’s an important job, and I’m glad to help however I can. But, wouldn’t it just be better if they just stopped fighting? Everyone would be happier, I’m sure. And I can get back to making art!”

I nod. “Yes, me too.”

“… Oh, I’m terribly sorry. Give me a few minutes to gather the set that you wanted right now.”

A few minutes later, the tailor comes back. “Here you go. There’s a small room over there by the left if you’d like.”

“Please and thank you.”

I head over to the room and lock the door behind me. A modest changing room without signs of intrusion. I doff my old tunic and don my new attire. Basic dark blue collared shirt, tucked into dark brown trousers, tucked into new leather boots, accompanied by fingerless leather gloves, and a modest hooded khaki cape. Everything fits well enough for a temporary solution, if a bit short. In any case, the mirror reveals a simple traveler…

I tie up my hip-length steel-gray hair into a loose bundle. A small grin crawls onto my face as I contemplate the sharp figure.

My old clothes get placed into the small bag my new clothes were in; that, in turn, gets stuffed into my satchel. As I leave the room, I give my thanks to Bren and head out the main door before he can put in more than one compliment. He has taken much of my attention already.

I quickly ask a friendly-looking passerby for directions to the “center of the city”, to which I am asked whether I want “The Bazaar” or the “Balegil Gardens”. He explains that the former is home to the largest block of vendors in the city, while the latter home to locations such as the town hall and an adventurer’s guild.

“Balegil Gardens, where is that?”

“You’re really new to the city, huh? Over there, to the west up on top of that big hill over there. Can’t miss it.”

I give my thanks and then set off to the west with Solus accompanying me near her highest point.

The path to get to my destination was a bit longer than expected. While the distance itself from Westtown Grove to Balegil Gardens is not very far - certainly, a quick flight would make short work of it - the trip took about thirty minutes on foot. The physical trip was no issue for me, but an inconspicuous walk was much slower than air travel. There is one main route into the district, located in the north. The hill itself is maybe 100 feet above sea level, forcing the path to not only be a bit steep but also wind back and forth a few times.

The entrance to the Gardens is marked by a tall stone archway at the end of the entry route. Fortunately, there are many signs that guide newcomers of the city towards the areas of interest. I make my way over to the Adventurer’s Guild.

Pacifica is clearly a city with much wealth and resources. Both the buildings and people of the city are fairly well-adorned, from my observations. However, Balegil Gardens is noticeably more striking. The separation of the district is not only physical from being located on a hill, but also material. Construction of the homes are built to a higher standard with polished stone and rich lumber, the commuting roads are nicely paved with stone, the street lamps are intricately designed, and a colorful palette of goods mark open businesses. In contrast to the somewhat hushed groups of the people below, the voices of residents and visitors of the Gardens join together in a busy hubbub.

However, the road from the entrance proved short, quickly opening up after a few turns to what seems to be the main attraction. A sign proudly introduces the ornate building:
“White Iron Palace: Est. Year 1627 of Our Savior”

Many of the previous directional signs point towards this “Palace”, so it appears that everything is housed within. Paved stone turned into marble stairs that lead to the entrance: a pair of open doors that tower above not only myself but also the buildings I had walked past. The majority of traffic heads inward through a quick and orderly queue. A few yards in front of me, a human mother and father try to calm their child, who seems to be oddly excited about visiting this place.

Making my way through the doors and into the Palace, my senses are overwhelmed by a new but cold scent of stone and marble that replaces the salty air from the outside. Green stained glass windows that stretch along the tall marble walls and up to the ceiling allow ample light inside. Around me are armored guards standing silently at the ready if they see any unwanted visitors, while the hallway echoes with the clacking of shoes and conversation.

Signage continues to be good. They suggest there is at least: the city hall, a church to some sort of Umberlee, a medical ward, many master artisans, an orphanage, a jailhouse, and the Adventurer’s Guild.

As I make my way over to the Guild, the number of indistinct people begins to drop. Crowds of families, merchants, and tradespeople are replaced by groups of adventurers from every lineage, every size, and every kind. Businesses operating in this section of the Palace seem to be catering towards them as well.

Most importantly, nobody appears to pay me any mind.

A few minutes later, I arrive at an entrance flanked by, yet again, another pair of opened doors. Only this time, they were made of dark stained wood. I continue forward-

“Oops, sorry madam,” a satyr coming from within bumps my left arm.

Madam? How old…

My train of thought is suddenly interrupted by a fairy popping up on my right side. “Welcome to the Pacifica Adventurer’s Guild!” she squeals. “How can I help you?”

“Yes, yes. I’m looking for some work,” I answer, a bit annoyed.

“Of course! Right this way please!”

This Guild sticks out from the rest of the White Iron Palace both in location and appearance. The entire Guild room stretches out far but not very wide, like a peninsula. Wood and stone make up most of the interior, providing a more cozy feeling compared to the almost sterile hallway I came out from. Various tapestries of emblems and crests adorn the walls, while the floors are populated with tables and seats. Chatter fills the room from the various adventurers discussing the division of work and bragging about their latest conquests.

“Here is the job board! Take a look at what has been posted and come over to one of the kind helpers over here when you find something!” The fairy takes her leave to greet the next individual.

I gaze over the medley of fliers tacked onto the board. Hmm… Most of these are unsurprisingly related to the war effort…

“Hey miss, you lookin’ for a job?” Suddenly to my right, a voice tries to get my attention.

“Why else would I be here?”

Shifting my attention, I see a tiefling with a stupid grin on his face before me.

“You’re a funny one, yeah? Well, me and my buddies have some boring work lined up, gotta get some rich guy’s stuff back. We could use someone like you to… liven it up a bit, whaddaya say?”

“Sorry, not interested.”

“Ah, come on-”

“No.”

“... Hmph. Fine, girlie. See you around then.”

“No you will not,” I say under my breath.

After a few minutes undisturbed, my perusal yields what I’m looking for: a request from the Church of Athar, who sent out multiple parties to find me. I unpin the flier and take a few paces from the right of the board to a receptionist.

“Hello! Sorry about the men over there, they don’t mean any harm but don’t pay them much attention.”

“Was not planning on it, thank you.”

“Have you found what you are looking for?” the human asks.

“It depends. Here.” I hand over the flier. “Is everything set up and ready to go, or do I have to meet the client?” I ask, referring to the Church.

“Not at all! As you can see here,” she points at a stamp, “there is already a small adventuring party that has taken this quest, but needs some extra help. Is that okay with you?”

“Depends on who is in the party, but probably yes.”

“Great! My apologies, but I don’t recognize you. Are you new here, miss?”

“Yes, I just arrived in the city.”

“Welcome to the city of Pacifica then!”

The receptionist asks me to fill out a form and provides me a small token with a unique number on it, identifying myself in the Adventurer’s Guild. She says that I can meet the party the next morning in this Guild hall and that we can go from there. I thank her and ask for some recommendations.

After receiving them, I take my leave.

“We look forward to seeing you soon, Grayce!”

I return a nod and head back towards the center of the Palace. On the way, I make a quick stop by a leatherworker to pick up a new satchel to replace my old one, with a request to modify the strap so that I can quickly tighten it against myself. A half hour later, the new satchel, still smelling vaguely bovine, adorns my side. I make my way over to the center of the Palace, where signs direct me to many metalsmiths. A modest one - for the area, at least - receives a few coins from me in exchange for a boring but well crafted longsword, which goes on my left hip.

With nothing else to do in the Palace, I head back outside and eventually down the hill that casts a shadow over the western part of the city. It seems to be about 3 o’clock in the afternoon now. A leisurely stroll northwest from the Balegil Gardens leads to what the guild receptionist claims to be the largest library in Pacifica.

Aptly named “Pacifica Library”, a humble log building stands behind simple signage. Two stories tall, but more lean than stout. Inside, a dwarven librarian greets me and asks if I need any help, to which I ask for literature about monsters in the wild.

“You’ll find them on the shelves on this side of the library,” he gestures. “That’s a popular section for smart adventurers like yourself. It’s always very useful to learn about any potential threats before heading on a quest. Let me know if I can help, but I won’t bother you otherwise. Take your time.”

The interior of this library is simple but well adorned with books, scrolls, tablets, and many other literature spread across a half-dozen bookshelves that stretch far back. A slightly musty smell of old paper fills the cool air. Most of the noise that can be heard inside comes from the exterior crowds, but there are a few people reading on the chairs near the entrance.

I, however, spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening searching for any information about the gelatinous enemy I had faced a few days prior. Title after title, page after page, paragraph after paragraph. Stories about common goblins, descriptions of powerful dragons, warnings regarding wild fey, legends of fearsome sea monsters. Eventually, Luna’s moonlight trickles in, sharpening my concentration until-

There.

I finally arrive at a small old book about oozes and other amorphous creatures. The cover flies open as I read through the contents.

And read.

And read…

Nothing. Damn, it’s all fantastical stories and tall tales. What a waste of time.

As the book returns to its place on the shelf, I look back towards the front. The librarian had changed sometime in the past few hours and the crackle of lanterns filled the silence. I spend a few more minutes looking through the remainder of the texts I picked out.

No success. Hmph.

I make sure no traces of my short stay remain and head towards the door.

“Did you find what you were looking for, dear?” This time, an elderly dwarf is at the desk.

“Yes I did, thank you madam.” A blatant lie.

“Glad to hear. Have a good evening and stay safe out there.”

I nod and step into the refreshing night breeze.