Dust to Dust: Man 04

Nativity

I'm sticking out too much.

“You trying to draw attention? You'll bring the idiots right back,” Travis complained, his momentary stoic elegance ruined by Pile's nudity. “Were you not even wearing an undersuit? How the hell is your skin still intact after chafing against metal for all that time.”

Ah, all the other humans are clothed. Stupid. The only materials I have in my sled are a few wolf pelts but...

Pile glanced at Travis' companion wolf. Her luxurious fur was now matted with blood and dust kicked up by the unruly mob, but she took no notice as all of her attention was taking up by analyzing Travis' wounds and whimpering in sympathy.

The wolf would not take the death of her kind lightly.

“Do you have any clothes?” Pile inquired. “I lost all of mine due to a... fire. Everything I was wearing was burnt to cinders.”

Not entirely untruly, I guess. If my body counts as what I was wearing.

“Sure thing mate, all I got is a linen pullover, but at least it'll cover your... what needs to be covered.”

The ranger pulled a long white shirt out of the pack next to his quiver. It was a bit too thin to weather the wilderness, but could hold up to light city use just fine. Pile pulled it over his head, ignoring the fact that the wolf was staring at him with what he with his limited social experience would swear was an appreciative gaze. The bottom hem of the shirt fell down to Pile's knees, protecting him from any future peeking by curious canines.

“Well then my now-decent friend, any first words from the blacksmith on what to expect out of his inspection.”

He thinks that I've forgotten already.

“Before that, what exactly happened out here? There's no possible way I'll just move on when I can obviously see the blood on the two of you.” Pile inquired, insulted that Travis thought so little of him.

“Just a bit of ragging from other guys in the company. It's army stuff, nothing for you to worry about. So what'd the blacksmith say ab-” Travis nervously stroked at the black wolf's fur, not daring to meet Pile's unwavering eyes.

I need a word, one that describes exactly how... Burning, rushing, I feel. Angry. How angry I feel.

“Cowcrap”

Travis stopped his anxious yammering and met Pile's gaze, a mix of curiousity and disbelief apparent in his open-eyed stare.

No.

“Bullshit,” Pile roared, feeling silly for misinterpreting the knowledge he had been given by the Blue Box.

Despite the people around the odd trio cowering at the recently nude man's outburst, Travis struggled to contain his laughter at the idiocy of his new friend's diction.

“Just what I needed, a guy that can make me laugh. Maybe I can talk to a guy like that. Fine then, you heard the mob. I'm an NPC.”

NPC, what's an NPC?

"NPC" is an acronym that stands for "Non Player Character." Common way to refer to natives.

Natives? He looked just like the other people that attacked him. Where are they from? Wait- Blue Box?!?! Blue Box!

“You okay mate?” Travis inquired, leaning down from the wolf to stare down at Pile. “You're being awful quiet for someone I'm trying to open up to.”

“No, I mean yes. Fine, I am. I mean I'm fine.” Pile threw out chains of words to appease the ranger while he focused his attention on scanning his vision for any trace of the Blue Box.

Travis was unconvinced by the poor acting of his frantic comrade.

“We were just publicly stoned and you were thrown out of a blacksmiths's shop buck naked. I think we all deserve to calm down and drink until we're happy again. We've got some time to kill until the blacksmith is done anyways; if Rounic the Blacksmith cared enough to inspect your armor on the spot, then it'll take all day. Follow me down the street, the Steamer Hog is the only pub that'll allow large wolves in.” Travis gestured at a barn structure with its doors wide open, the sound of music and glasses clinking leaking out on the street from inside.

“There are more wolves like... her? Does she really not have a name to refer to her by?”

“Well you can call her what the mob calls her. Mongrel, Bitch, Rachel, Monster, we've heard it all. Just keep in mind that if she finds you when you're alone and remembers your words, you'll find yourself with a few less fingers. Or limbs. The only one that needs to talk to her is me, anyways. Not that anyone else tries.”

Rachel? That's a name, not an insult. Why would someone call he-

The wolf in question seemed tired of the humanoid duo talking like she wasn't there, and used her considerable bulk to bump Pile in the direction of the bar. Her meaning was clear. The group walked through the wide wooden doors of the barn and sat around a rickety round table. Travis sat on a wooden stool that seemed to be even less structurally sound than the table, his weight causing it to creak when he leaned forward on the table. The wolf stretched out next to the table, causing the other patrons of the bar to stop staring at her nervously and go back to their business. Pile eyed the stool in front of him and realized that it wouldn't even come close to holding his titanic weight. With a bit of effort, he found a stance where he could put a hundred or so pounds of pressure on the seat while distributing the rest directly to the floor through his legs. Being awkward and uncomfortable he could deal with, it wouldn't do to draw attention.

“From the way you're sitting I'd take it the blacksmith did a bit more than take your armor from you.” Travis chuckled, already taking drinks from a foaming glass. Pile caught a flighty figure at the corner of his vision dropping off more glasses in front of everyone that lacked. Looking down, he noticed that there was already one in front of him, as well.

“Bad jokes aside, we've got hours to kill, good beer, and hopefully decent company. Tell me a story I haven't heard before and consider your drink on me.” Travis haughtily challenged, sure in his experience as a ranger.

Pile had no stories, but that didn't stop him from trying to make one up. During the next hour the trio found out exactly how bad Pile was at storytelling, and vowed to never bring up the subject again. Nevertheless, the ice was broken, and the golem, the ranger, and the wolf sat around a table and sat in comfortable silence, content with the warmth of companionship.

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Hey all! Long story short, stuff happened and I stopped writing. Stuff only lasted a couple of weeks but it completely threw me off my writing groove and I never got back to it. Now that my workload will be low for the next couple of months I decided it was time to get back to this story.

Good thing is, I had around 10 chapters already writting that I never posted!

Bad news is, I wiped my old laptop and gave it to my mom, and built myself a new computer a couple of weeks ago. No backup. So chapters are gone.

Anyways, I'm sure that my writing style has changed in time, (RoyalRoad has definitely changed, I no longer have to use hyphons (-) to break paragraphs! What a glorious day!) so the junction between Man 03 and Man 04 might be a bit jarring. Let me know if it is, new readers, and I'll work on smoothing it out.

Anyways, sorry for the (extremely long) hiatus. Back to the story! Right back to the... boring...city...chapters....

Let's blow this joint and go on an adventure soon, shall we?