An Age of Mysterious Memories

B 2 C 36: Human Civilization

We do our best to get to a point in the treeline near the coast where we can peer into the city from above the walls, without being seen. Using Lil’s extremely potent senses, we all scout this city. There seems to be a sizable standing militia, all decked out in the same regalia, red tabards with what appears to be a fleur-de-lis, armor, and long spears. The fleur-de-lis style symbol is somehow twisted, there’s something off about it, a sort of halo adorns its upper crest, and there’s a few other differences, like it being surrounded by a fetterlock. Beyond just the spear, the standing military types all seem to possess the same weapon, it’s reminiscent of a sharktooth. The blade is oblique and serrated.

The military practices more than formations, they practice magic spell drills. Every ten casts though, they have to rest for about an hour, they all look worn out from the exertion of ten spells. If they’re like mine, that means that their minimum spell mana is one hundred, and they all have exactly one thousand energy, roughly. Based on the size and effectiveness of their spells, it seems like a pretty good bet that they’re all in the early stages of being able to use one hundred mana to produce effects. Back when I was first using thermokinesis, my firebolts were as pitiful as theirs are when expending only a hundred energy. Mine are quite a bit more impressive now, but that’s not to brag. I’m simply perplexed by everything I’m witnessing. The militia members don’t all use fire or ice either, there appear to be clouds of poison, or acid, short bolts of lightning, waves in the air that could be sonic or kinetic attacks, all manner of things. If I could get in that militia, I would try to get them to spar with me and hit me with their attacks constantly to build up resistances until I unlocked all of their skills.

One of the most surprising things though, is there are human children of all ages, humans of all ages, and I am definitely not one of them. I’d convinced myself I was human, but I’m most certainly not. Maybe in some strange past life, but this body, Reggie Shellcracker, even before I started playing with shapeshifting, was never a human, and probably never a child. I could pass as a human child if I’m careful, especially if I self actualize a bit to look like my first appearance. I should stop calling my larger form my more adult form, it’s just my more authoritative form. Like I said, I doubt I was ever a child to begin with. Like Laomati and Agwai, I spawned with enough of a wealth of memories to draw from. We choose our location in our family. I guess I just wanted to be mothered for a time.

I can’t spy anyone using inventory magic, most people are carrying backpacks and purses and the like, or baskets and so on. The purses do seem to contain the same currency that I possess, but it’s not acting like a rotating icon. The money is in its base form. Some of the backpacks are like Luni’s, though those seem incredibly rare.

Some people wear bandages with blood spotting through them. These people bleed, they’re ‘of blood’ as Dehlia would put it. I’m not the only one. Yet I’m not human. I gaze at the red potion in my inventory curiously. What would this potion be worth here? It’s literally a life saver. That’s to say nothing of the actual phoenix feathers we possess. I think we need to keep our inventories a secret if we journey within. I can just imagine the avarice that such items might inspire in such a populace.

One of the ships pulling into looks oddly familiar. Its dark-skinned crew looks friendly and capable. Their captain has a head full of gorgeous salt and pepper curls, he seems to have freckles, or maybe age-spots on his handsome elderly face. In my memories, someone with that kind of hair would need to have a certain subset of ancestors from a certain land. The captain looks like the most utterly free man I can see in the entire place. For some reason, I imagine his name to be Morgan. I wonder if they’re the captain from my dream so long ago. I don’t think so, but it’s still odd to see a captain sweeping and swabbing a deck, hauling supplies with their crew, and treating everyone in such a friendly manner.

One other detail about the ship is that there looks to be a sort of closed cannon port at just above water-level on the rear of the ship. I’d wonder if it was an anchor-hole, but that’s on the other side.

After a few hours, we notice hooded figures sneaking around. One of the figures even slits the throat of a militia member. My friends gaze on in horror, until we realize what they’re killing for. What we thought of as cargo containers. It doesn’t make any sense. They weren’t stealing anything, they were freeing porcine beings, pig people, porcine spheres, anthropomorphic pigs. At first I’d thought perhaps we should go catch these two for the authorities, but no. The militia loses track of the hooded figures, and the porcine individuals. The hooded folk seem to whisper something to the animal folk as they break off. Both groups disappear into the city somewhere in separate directions.

After a long time our party spies the um, pigkin I suppose, swimming towards the one ship with a friendly crew, keeping out of sight, mostly beneath the waves. One knocks near the barely perceptible seam that I’d spotted before, and it opens, the apparent family of pigkin are all hauled in swiftly. Once they’re all in, the small porthole is sealed back up so that one can barely tell it’s a secret door unless you had Lil’s crazy powerful senses and invisible goggles.

In the eve, the ship steals away in the night to sail to the south. I wonder if they’re actually going south, or if they’re going to pretend to go south, and swoop far out to sea to head north. That’s the sort of thing I’d do, unless I had a secret cove nearby that was inaccessible to others. Better yet, I’d have both locations, and one would have a decoy trove. Some trinkets to make it look like I was a pirate with secret treasure, and nothing more. That way even if someone did manage to follow me to the first secret cove, they might be satisfied after looting it.

I mean, that’s what I would do if I were trying to save people like the pigkin, and didn’t care about money, which I don’t. I want more information on this town. I don’t see anything that reminds me of forced labor, but I don’t see otterfolk or pigkin or beaverfolk or naga or anything other than humans out and about. On the second day of observation, I think I finally understand why. In the market, many people trade in eggs, and common drops from folks. If those eggs are what I think they are, I’m going to be sick. Do they let people hatch, kill them for their drops, and hope for another egg to have a supply of loot? Does that mean the same person reincarnates and is slain over and over? Or are they a brand new being if they drop an egg upon death?

What’s the right thing to do here? I sort of want to go in and plead for them to change their ways. Or go in there and just slaughter everyone. I wonder if humans drop loot. Heh, that’s pretty sadistic. I’m not too different from them I guess. I’ve taken lives. I’ve hunted a species to extinction, cragbeasts. Apparently they don’t spawn anymore, and probably never will again. To be fair, they’re hostile to anything and everything on sight, and would burn down the entire world if unleashed from their warren. Still, they were trapped there, unless maybe the barrier could fail some day. No idea if that could happen. Actually, with everything happening in a way that seems to be conducted by my future self, and Luni, I almost wonder if we needed to do that to prevent that exact scenario.

Luni interrupts my train of thought with a, “Bup bup bup, no guessing. Just keep being you. You’re my hero, you’ll make the right choices.”

Hm, that’s almost confirmation, but yeah, I trust Luni with everything, heart and soul. I’ll stuff that thought in the back of my mind and forget about it. I call back telepathically, “Love you Lu, I think I need to get into this city, but I’ll need some more common clothing to blend in, wait, what’s that?”

Gazing into the city through Lil’s senses, I can see several groups of people from the obviously richer section of town heading out. Their outfits scream self-importance, positions of power that they likely abuse, and wealth. They’re followed by, of all things, otterfolk in ridiculously pompous outfits. My heart both soars, and breaks, that there are more people that could be my family in the world.

Yes, once again, I know I’m not an otter, but I mean, people that would probably be happy to live under the Shellcracker clan name. I can’t imagine these ones are enjoying themselves all too much, as I haven’t seen any go for a swim at all in the two or so days we’ve been here. They don’t look completely downtrodden or anything, but it still hurts to see. The humans also don’t appear to understand the otterfolk at all, completely ignoring any sort of attempt at speech.

Can the humans not understand, just like I couldn’t? I definitely have to get in there, and talk to those otterfolk. In one of the dingy areas of town, I can see a small stall that sells meager clothing. I think that’s where I’ll enter from first, we’ll sneak over the wall and down inside, all of us using my JT movement. Lil will have to keep their magic cloak hidden, which is too bad. It was kind of funny seeing Lil and Teuila train. Teuila would sometimes miss Lil because she attacked the wrong Lil.

We have to make sure to keep our inventory magic a secret, absolutely no one here seems to be able to do what we can do. Still, time for the old up-and-over. I launch each of us into the air, then aim us for what appears to be a refuse pile on the inside of the wall. As we all land, the other three are trying their best not to gag, Luni quickly hits everyone with the soapstone repeatedly as we extricate ourselves. I think one of the other benefits of the soapstone is the ability to perform minor clothing mending, thankfully Lu’s gorgeous dress is still alright, even after all this time.

Wait, crap. The humans here don’t seem to be able to understand any folk other than one another. I can’t communicate with anyone unless I’m in a party with them. Wait, unless. Hm. Perhaps I should at least give it a try.

Walking to the shop stall we’d seen, it’s a bit dilapidated. It seems to be constructed from driftwood and scrap lumber. The shop owner seems to be a portly older woman who is almost snoozing standing up. She perks up as we approach.

“Oh oh oh, wealthy visitors, to what do I owe this esteemed pleasure your grace? I have the finest hand crafted, oh who am I kidding? There’s nothing you could possibly want at my stall except to punish me for something. Have I done something wrong? Has my child offended you somehow?”

I hesitantly ask, “I’m sorry ma’am, I think there’s been a mixup, would you mind sharing your name? If you’d like, I could go first?”

The woman seems fairly shocked, I’m not sure if it’s my inflection, my accent, my presence, or what. She chooses her words carefully, “Oh, I would never dare request that your eminence share first. Please forgive me, I’m Berthalina, Bettie to my friends, Big Bettie or Big Bertha to the rascals around town.”

I try to measure my response, “Thank you Berthalina, Bettie if I may? I would like to purchase some of your clothing for myself and my friends here.”

Bettie responds, “Of course you may, your grace.”

I make a fatal mistake as I turn to Teuila, I ask her, “Te, what do you think would look inconspicuous on me, and nice on you?”

Teuila begins sifting through the clothing, rubbing some against her cheek, holding various things in front of herself to inspect how they would appear on her. All the while, Bettie’s jaw is basically on the floor.

Bettie finally works up the courage to ask, “Ex, ex, excuse me, your grace. Did you say, your friends? And did you just speak to critterfolk? Did you perhaps teach her to respond to your voice? It’s almost as if your little beast understood you.”

Fury flashes through me, but I breathe as calmly as I can. Though I keep my face neutral, somehow Bettie recoils in terror. Oh, right, my aura is on display. I need to maintain my poise and respond. To maintain my cover, I’m going to have to break my own heart and treat my friends as pets it seems.

Telepathically my inner circle all agree to go along with the charade, though I’m loathe to do it.

I respond, trying to recover, “Hm? Oh yes, silly me, of course I didn’t, just sometimes wealth is lonely and I yearn for friendship, they’re mostly all I have, what with my parents being so important and busy of course. So yes, I suppose this creature here has come to respond to my voice. She must know I’m feeling generous at the moment.”

Bettie perks up, “Generous your excellency?”

Really playing up the part, I answer, “Yes, yes I think I’ll take this entire section over here, and the dress that my naked female was picking out just now, she seemed smitten by it. They will of course be carrying it for me, no need for delivery. Do you have a privy stall in which to change? I’d like to try some of it on immediately.”

Bettie gasps, “All, all, all of that? I, I’d have to total it up, but it would be near a thousand rand your lordship. But, but of course I don’t question that you could afford it, with your coterie. And, and of course you can use the privy to change, it’s just over here.”

Trying to play up the part of an entitled wealthy child, I say, “A thousand, surely I could talk you down to five hundred? Hm, no, my pet seems to think I should be generous, something about the glint in her eyes, I think she truly likes this dress you’ve crafted. For her joy, I shall pay you two thousand, but not a rand more.”

Bettie stutters, “Two, two, two, two thousand? Truly? I, of course, yes, your graciousness is appreciated beyond measure. And, and you’re certain you don’t need it delivered? Err, I shant question your lordship, please forgive me, you said what you said, of course you meant it.”

As I pay Bettie, I make a motion as if to pick and carry everything, for Teuila and Luni, when an idea strikes me. I’ve seen some of the richer folk use bags like Luni’s, so I telepathically ask Lu to take her harp out for a moment and carry the bag that isn’t attached to the inside.

Lu? Just make it look like you’re pulling it from under your dress to wear it. Once it’s out and strapped on, make it look like it’s overflowing with some of the extra clothes, so that people can’t see you’re wearing it unless we need to impress them. Te can hold a small armload of clothes to make it look like I’m using her as an attendant.

Speaking to Bettie one last time, I try to offer a bit more aid, as she seems fairly downtrodden in this unwealthy section of town, “Thank you Bettie, for making this lonely child’s day, and the day of my pets. Should you need anything within the next few days, please ask around for Billie. Oh, if I could impose one more favor of you, would you mind telling me where one could purchase a night’s stay if they didn’t want to immediately return home to an empty domicile devoid of their parents?”

Bettie seems to go from gleeful at her new wealth, to slightly suspicious, but answers nonetheless. “You poor dear, yes, of course, if you head down Waterson, you’ll see it intersects with MacIntyre, take that towards the town center, but not too far. You’re looking for the, and you’ll pardon my language your grace, The Salty Wench.”

I barely stifle a chuckle at the many-entendre of the name. Thanking Bettie, I bid her adieu and head further into town to find Waterson street.

We try to maintain our inconspicuousness and cover as much as possible. Thankfully there aren’t many people in this less wealthy section of town, where it appears to shift from poor to middle class.

Three men in faded blue tunics roped tight over the hips of their beige breeches seem to take notice of my party.

Two don’t appear to be paying attention to us, rather simply following one of the ones missing the least teeth. The apparent leader says, “Oh hey, hey look that must be some rich kid, he got some of them critterfolk, and that curvy one aint half bad lookin’. Hey, hey kid, how much for a night with the pretty one?” As I realize this imbecile is talking to me, I’m about to say I’m not a he. Then he gets around to his question before I correct him on my gender. At first I almost dignify the question with a response, then I realize what the cretin is asking.

Once I realize what the question meant, from my memories of human civilization, I veritably fume. When my inner circle telepathically learns the meaning behind the question, I can’t tell which of the four of us want to kill this man more. I grit my teeth and crack my knuckles as a malevolent sneer adorns my face. For some reason, he falls to his posterior and scrabbles away backwards. He looks a bit like a crab before he flips to his hands and knees so he can stand up and take off in a sprint.

Oh, oh right, everyone else in the universe can see auras, and even the weakest sense of an aura can give you a read on someone’s emotions. I doubt the coward had ever felt, or seen, the full animosity of a killing intent before, let alone such a strong one from four innocent-appearing individuals. His two friends also take off after him once they get around to looking our way.

Crap, that’s probably bad news. We don’t want to make waves. We hurry along to the Salty Wench. It’s easy enough to ask for a no-questions-asked room. I’m a little sickened by the implications of what’s going on around me, and what they’re likely assuming I’m here to do, but it’s a decent cover to play along, while also pretending I don’t know what they’re talking about. The cover being that I’m obviously trying to maintain plausible deniability, rather than anything else.

Listening to conversations in the tavern area, one between two off-duty militia drinking beer at a nearby table sends a chill straight through my core.

“It’ll be the easiest battle in history, all we have to do is march straight east along the cliff face below that flaming Drakkhen biome.”

That path intersects directly with our settlement, with Shellcracker Pond. It feels like an entire planet’s worth of weight lands upon my shoulders. The weight threatens to crush me as my knees waver and buckle. I manage to persist. Partially because there’s no time to panic, I need more information. Lil, Lu, Te, did you hear that too?

My party all telepathically confirms that I truly heard what I’d heard, and they heard it too. Thousands of humans marching east along the cliff face, thousands of them that wield magic. Magic not as potent as some of ours, but too strong to fend off if we’re caught by surprise. Militant humans from a society that seems to slay and eat ‘critterfolk’. Militant humans whose magic we couldn’t fend off in such massive numbers. Maybe if we launched a surprise attack, we could take them all out, but not if we were busy trying to defend our family.

I rush to the room I’ve purchased so I can let loose sick in the chamber pot, as well as to break down crying. I need to formulate a plan, but at the moment, I need to ride out a wave of terror and sadness. My inner circle comforts me as we lock the door to our room.