I always hated stories where the author slips in favorite songs, but siting here, back to the rock, a snippet just keeps playing on repeat in my head.

We could live beside the ocean

Leave the fire behind

Swim out past the breakers

Watch the world die

Morbid enough for you? sigh.

I stand up, brush the dirt off the back of my speedos, and turn to Yamina “Okay, enough of Captain Emo

Guy Man, lets accept all the quests, bind here, and look around at this grove, I’ve got a feeling your mother hooked us up here, if we can figure out how. Just having our bind zone safe, is a big deal. First how big and what’s in the grove, what resources do we have. Next we need to figure our magic out and make some basic combat plans.”

“Rodger dodger, Captain Emo of the Naughtylist.” Piped up Yamina making me laugh.

I accept all the quests, bind to the alter, and dedicate it to Danu. And re-square my shoulders. Good, done, ready to get started, or not I catch Yaminas eye.

“That reminds me, I’m kind of a name nerd, do you know what Yamina means?”

“Yamina, means me, silly”, she said doing loop de loops in the air.

“Yes, Yamina means you, but words have meanings behind them. Often times, nobody remembers them, but the old meanings are still there. William for instance comes from the old English ‘Wilhelm’, and means ‘Resolute Protector’ or ‘Stalwart Warrior’ or the name Bella, means ‘Beautiful’.

“Then I totally should have been named Bella, I mean, just look at me!” she preens outrageously.

“Yes, yes, you’re as cute as a bucket of puppies, but my point is, of all the people in the world, your mom is going to know what names mean, and that they have power.”

“Ok”

“Yamina is both Arabic and Hebrew, and it means “Right, Proper, well behaved’, but it means something else too. It’s meaning comes from another meaning of right, ‘The Right Hand’ as in, ‘she’s my right hand’, or the ‘right hand of god’. That comes from the old days, where a leaders Strongest fighter stood at his right side in battle, and his second strongest at his left.”

“I’m a god silly, if a very very little one, however I act is by definition ‘Right and Proper’.”

“I beg to argue that point, but it’s the other meaning ‘The right hand’ I wanted to discuss.’ Pointing my left and at my right in emphasis.

“Yeah I agree, ominous.” Sha said stilling and looking at me seriously.

”And you mom said you’re one of the first she sent here, right?”

Slowly nodding, she said much more doubtfully, “Yes”.

“Exactly, we need to be prepared for some serious trouble down the line. For now, we’re both little, figuratively in my case and literally and figuratively in yours.”

“I can see that. What do we do about it.”

I held up a finger, trying to project confidence, “Step 1, when we’re out of this grove, no we’re gods or goddesses talk, we just refer to you as a Fairy or a Devas, and your Mom, as your mom, or the Goddess As The Goddess.. Or we use private party chat, to discuss that sort of thing. If anyone asks, we’re just adventuring partners and your mom took me on to be your teammate. Here to spread her religion. Agreed?”

“Agreed, Mom is mom, or the goddess we serve, never both,” she nodded firmly, “ and I’m me, just a Fairy Diva.” She says taking a head back, arms out, “Tada!” pose in the air.

“That too.” I said smiling back at her.

“Next, if you’re real, and your mom is real, and the Fae are real, then that whole True Name thing is real. In that case, we need to keep ours both complex and secret. Can we edit our names, your mother changed mine to Gardener, maybe that was also a hint, what does your System Knowledge say?”

“We can change it for the first 24 hours in game.”

I laugh softly, “we just got very lucky. names need to have meaning, personal meaning by preference, be complex and hard to guess. You’d start as “Yamina Danusdottir” , Norse style, it works both in the concept as her daughter if we need it, but for now, It doesn’t necessarily mean you are her literal daughter, it can also mean she’s you most famous ancestor, or you are one of her servants religiously speaking. Like how nuns all married Jesus. Since Fae are Celtic myths mostly, Norse should throw a wrench in things. Now we need a couple fitting middle names, super hard to guess, and meaningful if we can pull it off. Nobody -ever- hears our middle names, not ever, not after we set them. Never write it down, never speak it out loud Ever agreed?” I say looking her firmly in the eye.

“Agreed” she piped up.

Eyebrow raised I ask, “How about ‘Yamina Angelina Nephalhima Danusdottir’ Both middle names mean angel.”

“Kind of on the head don’t you think? Can we make it harder to Guess?” she says one foot drawing lazy circles in the air, but her eyes sharp, her head down thinking.

‘We could change your last name to Stinkerbottom?”

“Pass” said Yamina dryly, her mouth like she just had a sour grape..

“Ha, I’ve got it, it’s kinda stupid, but it’ll certainly be hard to guess, in this world at least.”

She winced, “ok, lay it on me”

“Yamina Ang3l1na N3ph4l1m4#1 Danusdottir the F1rst.” I said, barely controlling my chuckles.

“What the actual fuck is that?” Yamina asked, head popping up.

“L33t speak”, you can argue it’s an actual language, and every bit of it is totally meaningful, and you’ve got to admit, it’s unlikely to be guessed here where basically nobody has ever heard of it. Plus if we ever have to sign something, or if our name gets put on things by the system, it leaves you enough of a normal name just in case. Plus it’s literally saying ‘I am elite’, if in a bit of a posery way”. Layers of meaning on top of each other.

“You’ve really put a lot of thought into this haven’t you?”

“No, I’m just a total nerd, I’m a gamer, a programmer, and I was in the SCA, I’m like 1 step above a larper and 2 steps above a furry, I don’t know what geekier than a furry, it probably exists, but it’s nothing I know of thank Google.”

“And your name, it had better be as ugly as mine, or I’ll never forgive you”, She said firmly.

“Oh it’s worse, I promise, ‘Sir William theB1ll1nat0r Johns0n-M4cG1ll1cutty Jr. Gardner, the 3rd.” as I gesticulate with cartoon nobility, bowing comically at the end.

“Where did that come from?”

“It’s a joke name I used to use talking to my kids when I wanted to be silly, basically I’m the only person on the planet who knows about it, and yet, it’s deeply personal too. I’d change Gardener back to my old surname, but I suspect your mom changed it for a reason.

“If you get to be a Sir, can I be a Princess? That’d be cool, I want to be a Princess!!”, she said bouncing excitedly in the air, bippity boppity boop.

“I dunno? I was actually knighted in the SCA, and did some De Molay stuff back in the day, I’ve got a shred of a legit claim to the title, if a bit weird. For you, I guess you’d have to ask your mom?”

Yamina brightened even more, and then immediately dimmed and slumped. “She says a Princess is a demotion, and a landed title, so no on two counts, but she appreciated our, and I quote, ‘Twisted little minds’, end quote”

“Well, we’ll just have to see if we can get you a princessdom along the way then don’t you think?” raising my brows at her encouragingly.

“Yeah, that’ll teach her, Pthbbt on that momma!”, and she began to circle again lazily.

“I should have never told her I was afraid of raising a teenaged goddess, I did this to myself…” I muttered.

“What was that?” She asked sharply.

“Nothing, just nothing, just muttering to myself. Let’s go learn to use our magic. See if we can find any clever tricks to make it more effective. First off, I’m going to one of these oaks and making a club.”

I stuck out my hands, grabbed a nice long branch on the oak tree above us, and activated my shaping magic, willing the wood to form into the shape a club. Colors flowed out of my hand, sparkles and… a piece about the size of the end of my thumb fell out of the branch and landed in the grass at my feet..

I stood there staring at it flummoxed, “What the hell?”.

Yamina laughed, like legit laughed at me, like middle schooler bully laughed… then she spoke.

“Shaping magic, you can affect about 1 oz of materiel per level roughly a cubic centimeter of steel, more of lighter materials, silly. It’s going to cost you more mana the longer you take to do it, but you’ll have more control.” She was beginning to flit about again.

Trying to keep my eyes on her, I ask “Well crap, what about your heal and wound spells?”

“They are easy, I apply 1 hp per second times my skill level then times my level because healer is an advanced class of mage, at a cost of one mana each. The spell is channeled, so I just keep it up till it’s better or I run out of mana. That’s why I picked those two. Once I learn how to use one, I know how to use the other.”

“Can you pick the wound type, or the location, or is it just general healing and wounding.?”

“I dunno” she piped “Hold out your hand and let me try…”

I held out my hand wincing already, and said ”okay, but you have to heal it back”.

CRACK, my pinky bent straight up, “OW goddamit, that hurts! Put it back.”

“How many hit points of damage did it do first?“ She asked suddenly looking like her mother again.

“Around 4 I said, looking at my bar, now put it back”

my pinky left the realm of flagpoles, and returned to fingerdom…

“So it looks like I can influence where and what kind, oh and you’re a big baby!” she cackled, or crowed, sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.

“Yeah sure, we’ll see you how you deal with your fingers if they get broken. But that said, targeting your wounds can work as various debuffs, snare, when breaking a toe, blind injuring an eye, etc.” I said, turning back to my tree branch, and proceeded at taking small chunks out of it, like an invisible beaver, after few I got the following message

“Point zero one? There has got to be a better way.”, I willed skill messages to go to my message tab also. pacing back and forth, hand to my chin. “Having to do each type as they pop up is going to be annoying for a while”, then I sat down in lotus position and quieted my mind to regenerate my mana.

When I finished a message was waiting for me.

“Cool, I just got the meditate skill, as I was hoping!”

“How’d you do that, you just sat down funny, that’s no fair, I want it too!” Yamina, well… pouted is probably the best word for it, zipping up to look at me closely.

“I was just sitting Criss-Cross-Apple-sauce, or Hindu style, the Lotus Position. They used to call it Indian Style, but decided it was racist, because they got India Indians mixed up with American Indians. Most Native tribes are squatters anyway, not sitters. People of several of the Plains tribes called white men ‘Dirty Butts’ in their language because of our habit of sitting on the ground instead of squatting like civilized folks …”

“I want it too!” she cried and she dropped into lotus position, and held still, for about a second. Then, and I swear to god, or goddess or whatever, she started to vibrate. Literally vibrate, like a hyperactive Chihuahua on meth. It was the funniest thing I’ve seen in forever. She opened one eye and looked at me sternly, so I turned my back and hid my face.

After about 10 seconds, she zoomed up off the rock and circled the tree at about warp 3, screaming the whole time in frustration, going “Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!”

I gave my best asthmatic cough, to cover my laughter, and started wandering to the top of the hill, and then down the gentle slope to the trees I found as suspected over the hill. As I half expected, I began to hear running water. Just inside the trees, was a broad creek, or a small river, a bend of which decorated by a broad sparkling black sandbar both of which were clearly inside the safe area of the grove of trees. The Sandbar was on the nearest side, and that particular black sparkle brought suspicions to my mind.

“Clean water nice.” I said as Climbed up a tree for a better angle, and saw fish lazily swimming in the water.

“And Fish if we get hungry, very cool.”

I scooped up a handful of water, and lifted it to my mouth, having read my Old Testament bible story comic books as a kid. No lapping it like a dog for me, no sir. Team Gideon all the way.

I quickly willed that type of message to my message tab, and saw I had several messages waiting.

I suddenly remembered that Tao Land guys book, and thought, oh yeah, totally ripping that idea off! Trade goods! Wait, Crap, no bottles, no canteens, so much for wealth and riches. Tuck that idea away for later god, gods, goddess, dammit…

“Okay that’s getting frustrating” I said looking at the sky, “Hence forth, since God is Gender non specific, though commonly male, when I say God, you may decide for yourself if it applies to you, If you want it , it’s yours, if not I clearly meant the other guy, Oh and so long, thanks for all the Fish.”

I couldn’t resist, honestly, I’m not made of stone, my feet are clay. Then I went through my messages.

“Repeatable, nice, Gotta love those.”

I pulled the letter out of my inventory and read it.

[Way to go kids, you dedicated this grove to me and earned some info, Too bad you didn’t get Divine Chat, eh Bill]

“Yeah, yeah, rub it in….” I grumbled, and went back to the letter.

[ The river in your Grove, is -arguably- near the headwaters of the largest river on the newly explored and barely inhabited continent of Caladinia. The river does not have an -officially- dedicated name. It’s just called “the river” so far. While you don’t have any flags to assist you, I think you are cunning enough to figure it out.”

- You know who

P.S. The nearest settlement is about an hour walk down stream, but it’s already got a name, so you’re too late there. -YNW ]

“Eddy Izzard Reference, Nice, if you’d done that in person, instead of by a letter, you’d have earned a point, lady!” I say, wagging a finger at the sky.

Thunder Rumbled in the distance, and I laughed out loud, “Hoist on your own petard, lady, Your own petard!” I shouted at the sky in my best evil villain voice. Point Bill!

“Besides if you wanted respect and deference, you’d have picked somebody else, you love the sass and you know it!”, I say, my grin reaching manic proportions.

More thunder, but further away, and I -swear- it had a grumbling tone to it. I put the letter back in my inventory, thinking about medieval ebay, and wandered back uphill to where Yamina was flying around healing and wounding trees in turn.

“Great job being diligent there kiddo, but your mom has a mission for us. I just need a staff first.”

I walked back to the oak branch I’d been giving the rabid beaver treatment to, and gave it the stink eye, my hands on my hips. “I’m not coming up with anything on my own, I need a good idea to rip off from one of the many books I’d read, and movies I’ve watched, I refuse to believe a lifetime of consuming sci-fi and fantasy is wasted, especially here and now.”

At the word movie, my one anorexic gerbil, finally spun the wheel, movies->screens, screens->force fields, force fields -> super thin force fields.. and that was it. I had my next great idea. No flags mind you, but a flagpole was definitely in my near future.

I focused my will into using my limited volume as a plate about 1mm thick, and perpendicular to the branch. Flashy lights, colored ribbons, and Presto, one branch that was on the tree, was now a branch on the ground.

“Congratulations, Bill, you’ve achieved equality with a beaver.” Said Yamina in a voice dripping with amusement. Perching above my right shoulder.

“HA!” I said, picking up the branch and showing her the cut, “Look at that, smooth and shiny, like a master woodworker just planed and scraped it. I’m on to something here, and not just for me. Think about what casting a focused thin wounding spell into a major artery could do!”

I looked at the limbs I needed to knock off the branch, and one by one, each time making my area of effect, thinner and thinner, knocked them off.

I checked my messages, and as expected;

?

“HA!, and the system agrees, now we need to take this further.” I sat down and got serious about my task.

Focusing my mind on thin curved sections, I started popping the bark off the main branch in pieces about the size of my hand, all told it was about 10 feet long before it got too thin for my purposes. So I Cut it again with one of my super thin fields, cut It a third time to a piece about 6 foot, and a Piece about 4 foot, and then started whittling it down to size. I had to mediate a couple times when my mana was empty, but all told in about 10-15 min, I had a nice 6ft octagonal staff of about 1.5” thickness, and another about 4 ft long 1.25” in diameter. I chopped the end off the 4’ piece making it about 42” and placed the other piece at 90 degrees about 8 inches from one end and concentrated on melting them together into one solid piece, like it had grown that way. The grain at the joint got that twisty, burly, look when I succeeded. Then I started working around the short end, reforming it gradually to a large disk, and thinning down the area between the perpendicular piece and the ball, into a nice handle.

It took me forever, probably 30 minutes all told, No way I could do it in combat. But I now had a serviceable wooden waster sword, much like I’d carried In my early SCA days.

I laughed my most maniacal laugh at the sky and shouted “You have foolishly given me the power to conquer the world!” at the top of my lungs! Muhuahuahuahuahuaaaa!” Then I used Identify on my two new weapons.

[Crude Blessed-Oak Octagonal staff, Crafted by William Gardner, 1-10 damage, +1 damage against evil and undead creatures]

[Crude Blessed-Oak waster, Crafted by William Gardner, 1-6 damage, +1 damage against evil and undead creatures]

“Crude!” I shouted, “everyone’s a critic, these are beautiful!” I went to shove the sword into my belt, remembered I only had speedos, and deflated at the image of hanging my sword from my speedos, started walking to the river with both hands still full.

“Come on Yamina, we need to go command the tide, King Canute eat your heart out!” and I stomped towards the river.