Somewhere Someplace

Days and days, weeks and weeks, had all passed by as time dragged on, pulling the foreigner along with it in its relentless march. Many things had changed, yet many things remained largely the same.

She had continued onwards…with completing each and every copy of that same exact collection quest, without any pause. Yet, along with that process, she had begun to select new…overlapping quests–primarily bounties and parts-fetching, specifically involving these so-called ‘glow-golems’.

Indeed…for whatever reason…she always seemed to gravitate right back to that same sunny-cave and crystalline cavern; as if enthralled almost…even if she could not comprehend the why, nor did she even care to.

Having learned from that incident with that guardian colossus of crystal, no longer was the foreigner relying on her primitive revolving-pistol. Now, she had a somewhat more adequate primary firearm…though…it was not that strange…pump-action repeating rifle which she had so confiscated.

Indeed…although she had tried to finick around with it and make her own repairs…such had proved far more challenging than she had predicted; indeed, primitive technology was still…primitive technology—by no means her forte; though, she was…violet, not teal, thus…such in general was not her domain, even if there were some overlaps with her specifically.

In the end, unable to make the thing work reliably, she had simply opted to take it to a local firearm specialist, or ‘gunsmith, in order to have them take a gander and make repairs…though only to be told…that it was far too ‘Dwarven in its engineering’—whatever that was supposed to mean—and thus…they were unable to do anything about it.

It being of no use, she had ended up selling the pump-action repeater to that same gunsmith, who was interested in ‘dissecting it’ seemingly, and for a rather decent sum as well.

Though…in retrospect, even if she had been able to get that thing to work in a reliable sense…it may not have been an adequate primary…at least in terms of logistics. That pump-action repeater was a specialist firearm; not only did it utilize a specific type of powder—incompatible with the far more common local black-powder—it also utilized metallic cartridges exclusively.

Metallic cartridges were far better than paper cartridges, granted, but they were heavier to carry in mass and were especially hard to come by in these lands…thus were very pricy.

Likewise, with paper cartridges…provided that she had the proper materials—which she…or rather her former associate…certainly did and were of rather the quality too—she could easily make more of them on her own and on the go.

Thus, ultimately, the foreigner had found herself…yet again, rummaging through her former associate’s own…extensive and diverse collection, and had ended up discovering…a rather strange…likely experimental…repeating rifle—one that was seemingly similar to…that pump-action in terms of its…strange…‘Dwarven’ design. However, this repeater utilized a revolving-mechanism, one similar to her pistol…albeit more tight and sealed and the cylinder had a capacity for ten shots—not six.

Indeed, it had a fast rate of fire and a longer range…but such had its caveats; it was rather…awkward to hold, and…she could tell from the design…it was perhaps not the safest thing to use; never mind also…that it was as equally painstakingly slow to reload as her pistol.

However, this revolver rifle could utilize the same exact paper cartridges as her pistol, using not only the same shot ‘caliber’—that being ‘dot-44’—but also having the same powder compatibility and versality. Thus, she did not need to carry separate munitions just for it and could share between the two; plus, it had a rather neat carry-strap attached to it.

Thus, this was the firearm she had opted to go with as her new primary, and it did ultimately prove itself to be a considerable upgrade to her revolver, albeit…only in terms of range and ammo-capacity…not at all in terms of the firepower she had so wanted.

For that…she had found something else hidden within her former associate’s fine collection: a primitive grenade-launcher, or ‘handmortar’ as the locals called it. It was an interesting thing, really, rather thick and bulky…yet again with that same ‘made-for-small-thick-hands’ ‘Dwarven’ design.

It was fairly ‘advanced’ too…despite this thing being likely several decades old. It utilized a breechloading mechanism, had an internal firing-mechanism, and fired small-but-potent percussion explosive shells which detonated upon impact rather than relying on a time-fuse; truly, it was, indeed…a portable handheld mortar.

However, caveats…of course…were that this ‘handmortar’ required its own heavier specialized munitions and thus...required its own...rather large…satchel, which she had managed to squeeze near and around her other ammunition carry-satchel; such, of course…added to her overall weight.

Likewise, she could only carry around twenty-five at a time and the small shells themselves…were not at all easily replaceable, being far less so than metallic cartridges; they were too niche, advanced, and specialized…even if the firepower was so worth it.

However, her former associate, having had been ever the gunslinging ‘Gunslinger’, had rather the stockpile…one gigantic crate full of them, in fact—nevertheless, she would still have to use this boom-toy rather…sparingly and tactically.

Though…tactics…indeed, her equipment had changed and so too had her tactics.

When the foreigner had went about completing those same duplicate sunny-cave collection questions, she had become far more aggressive…no longer waiting for those glow-spiders to the cull themselves in their mating process, instead sniping them mid-process…or waiting for them to blob up on themselves and booming them asunder. Those glow-crystals of theirs…were oddly resistant to kinetic explosive energy, but not penetrative impacts, seemingly.

Though, when it had come to those ever-accursed…sea shrubs…the foreigner had initially continued her prior strategy of scavenging for all those that had been—for whatever reason—buried underneath the sands. However, she had not been the only the one to have had realized such a thing, nor had she been the first; indeed…it had not taken long before the buried shrubs had become as depleted as the ones atop the very beaches.

Yet, she had quickly improvised when such had become so apparent…applying that rather interesting…tactic…she had so noted…and been a victim of; indeed, quite a few adventurers and would-be collectors…had tended to leave their…own collected things unattended to, vulnerable…and thus…befitting of a…momentary confiscation.

Such doings had quickly become a habit of hers, in truth…and not just with the sea shrubs; whenever there existed a gap needing to be filled…she had no problems with simply…confiscating collected items from others, and in fact…she had only become bolder and more brazen in doing so; after all, clearly, they all would have done the exact same to her had they any the chance, so she presumed.

Thus, as time dragged on as the days and weeks passed her by…this cycle continued as she relentlessly completed quest after quest…copy after identical copy alongside new overlapping ones; new tactics and methodologies adopted…as she became more brazen, aggressive, and ruthless in her apparent efficiency and…need to complete her given objectives, to win this…game of ‘questing’—of course, hiring multiple wagoneers throughout the entire process for rather the hefty price.

The third month of this new year had dawned and flowed…until eventually…came this specific day…and then came the end of this specific day; as the sun made its set…she had just completed all of the remaining copies of that same collection quest, even the ones freshly added to replace all those she had completed. The Guild…had not received another request; there were no more left.

No longer was there a need for her to collect glow-crystals and sea shrubs over and over. The only quest of hers left to be done…was another one of those Steel-ranked bounty quests targeting ‘glow-golems’—their ‘hearts’ specifically.

Thus, here the foreigner laid, once again, upon her bed…her ever-baggy ignited eyes…staring up at the ceiling above; she was unable to sleep—a reoccurring problem as of late…sleep had become.

Her mind was…so very preoccupied. She could not relax…she could not…be at ease, despite the fact that she had just completed…the last of all those…identical collection quests. Indeed, there was…still…that one last lingering quest; that one directive needing to be finished. So engrossed…in this thought, in this…desire…her mind was…that it was so hard…to sleep, despite how exhausted and tired it was.

Though, none of this…was abetted by the fact that…sleep in general, even when she could fall into its obscurity, was no longer…that blissful numbness of escape…only a window into an abyss.

Yet she yawned…staring and staring…with such burning bagged eyes; truly she was so exhausted and tired, yet…her mind refused to sleep…she…refused to sleep.

She was in bed, wrapped and tucked into her warm coverings, yet…it was all so cold, nevertheless. Time had flowed by so quickly…it did not feel as though much time had passed at all; for her, all these weeks…felt like one single…everlasting day. Such…was what she was more used to, truth be told, in her long-long life. Days, weeks, such minute time on the scale she was used to.

Yet in kind…everything that had happened…still felt so recent, as those scenes and happenings continued to play out in her mind…on repeat, over and over.

Indeed…it was becoming harder and harder…to even spend a single moment…without relentless and endless…reminders…memories and thoughts…all such things…she wanted to escape and flee…and to never think about.

Eventually…her exhaustion took hold…as her eyes could not help but slowly yet surely close…as her mind retreated away…into slumber’s obscurity…at long last.

-||-

Shooting stars rained from the fallen sky, relentless, as if all the cosmos descended upon the ravaged earth below. Malformed and twisted…all the stars bled as the beating heart of the night-sky flared in malignant orange…a pulsating wave stretching out, reaching from beyond that great abyss…devouring everything so touched. The air turned wicked, suffocating to those indulging breaths.

Ears bled with the sounds of shrieking turmoil and carnage…clamoring…so many blank faces…clamored, their piercing wails and cries screaming out…pleas and begs…stomping and stampeding, crushing each other…pounding and banging away, pushing against their hope of retreat.

To their saviors, to their defenders, to all those meant to protect them, to all those who promised to save them, all their shattered voices cried out for salvation as the entire night-sky turned against them.

Yet, it was too late.

The only salvation to be found…to be given…was simply the granting…of a swift and painless end…as all those who had sworn to be their shields…turned against them too.

Screaming and shattering throats, trampling and stumbling; they begged and begged; they cried and wept.

Thousands, millions…endless voices and noises…all those blank faces of ghosts and phantoms long forgotten…all those tormented echoes long forsaken…all their voices joined as one and cried out in shrieking screams from beyond time and space…asking…demanding…to know…

Why?

Her ignited eyes sprung wide open as she jerked straight up and awake in a cold frigid sweat…breathing and breathing…yet suffocating with each breath; she rapidly stared around.

Inhaling and exhaling, her mind was lost and all over, entangled in a web of eroded memories as she struggled to even remember where she even was…what she even was…or what era she even was in; the past, the present, none of it made sense…all of it became one and the same.

So many strange…crushing feelings throbbed and burned deep within her chest and nerves…as she shiverly trembled in bed…yet all she could do…was simply crumble up…gripping her legs…as if she were a meagre broken ball.

She rolled and rocked back and forth lightly, her breathing raspy and heavy…her jaws and lungs trembling with each suffocating breath…as her mind flared in an overwhelming onslaught of such strange…invasive…burning feelings…yet she could not comprehend any of them…besides this sudden and…unexplainable…instinct…to curl up into this…broken ball.

Yet, as abrupt as this all had occurred…everything abruptly turned numb and inhibited…as all these burning feelings…turned cold and empty…even if…still present. She froze in place as the shivers and trembles halted in kind…as the world around suddenly felt so unreal and nonexistent…as she suddenly felt…so unreal and nonexistent.

As if nothing had just happened, she sat herself up…and looked around. It was dark…it was still the middle of the night. Her breathing calmed. She laid herself back down…as once again…her bagged eyes stared up at the ceiling above.

Truly, sleep was no longer that liberating bliss of emptiness. This…this…was happening more often as of late. The shadow deep within her mind…it was leaking out ever-more from its cracking walls…chasing her down even in slumber’s escape. She was sleeping less and less day by day…as a result.

Yet…even now…as she laid wide awake, in this moment of peaceful silence, so many things continued to bleed into her mind from its own leaking shadow…invading, infesting, reminding…thoughts, memories, realizations…escape, an escape, she needed an escape, an exit, she needed to shut it off before it all unraveled and came flooding out.

The foreigner calmly sighed as she simply sat herself up yet again…before getting out of bed in equal calming kind. She lit an oil lamp and promptly began to put on her battered and dirty tavern attire…followed by all of her equipment and arms.

Since she could clearly not sleep, she may as well…just work on that last lingering quest of hers…or really…just do something besides rotting away in bed.

Once all prepared, readied, and with her mask donned, she swiftly departed her apartment and made way into the cold dark world beyond…one so devoid of any color; she stepped out as the cold air breezed…yet she could feel none of it, despite sensing its gentle nightly touch.

There were no wagons around to be hired at such late hours, so…she opted to just march the whole way; she had long memorized the details of that same repetitive route by this point, thus…she needed not to think or attend…only walk.

Her eyes remained thoroughly fixated straight and down as she made way, not risking even a single glance at those endless twinkling stars…whose cold indifferent glares…stared her down from their frigid withering abyss up high beyond the sky…taunting her, mocking her, judging her with utter contempt, always reminding her of the absurdity of her existence.