Mythril pushed the sword into the scarecrow’s hand and stepped back. At first, nothing happened, but just as he moved closer again to make sure he had positioned it correctly the scarecrow’s arm trembled.

CUT ME DOWN, BROTHER.

Mythril saw that Timothy bore the same grin that was across his own lips. Without hesitation Mythril cut free the scarecrow.

It landed on the ground uneasily, its legs shaking beneath it.

I AM NOT OF THIS FORM.

Mythril approached to steady the scarecrow, but Timothy’s arm barred him from doing so.

“He’s probably going to tell us to-“

ACCOMPANY IN MY REVENGE, AND I SHALL GRANT YOU RICHES.

The scarecrow interrupted Timothy’s warning, but with a nod of his head to Mythril he showed that the scarecrow had done just as he suspected he would.

“Now we follow,” Timothy said, walking after the scarecrow’s slow gait.

“A bit serious, isn’t he?” Mythril commented on the scarecrow’s gruff voice and determined stride.

“How would you feel if you’d been turned into a scarecrow?”

Mythril didn’t reply, but it did lead his thoughts momentarily to how he might approach the person who brought him to this world and away from his fiancée, should it have been a person who did it.

The farmhouse sat in view, a few fields away from where they walked. The scarecrow, both taller and wider than Mythril and Timothy, although he presumed not heavier, cast up clouds of dust as it walked over the risen but barren ground. They shielded their eyes, Audreg hissing behind them yet not being caused any great discomfort from the dust.

Without warning, a wad of spit flew past Mythril’s shoulder, a whoop came from behind him, followed by a cawing he knew was not Audreg’s.

He spun to see four creatures running towards them. Seemingly from no where these monsters appeared, their bodies that of a bush, a beaked nose peaking out from between leaves of ivy that hid their faces.

“Not the best disguise for what is practically a wasteland,” Timothy said as he struck the first one.

“You don’t need a disguise if you can appear out of thin air,” Mythril remarked, his own blade slicing towards the first to reach him. It was only now that he noticed how whereas his strikes would destroy the enemy upon the first blow, Timothy would be left making blow after blow with his blade.

STRIKE DOWN THE CHILDREN OF THE CROW MOTHER.

Mythril swung his blade above his head, spun in a full circle with it brandishing downwards diagonally as he moved, until he stopped with a stomp of his foot on the ground. Three more of the bush-birds were down, one more was left to finish off as it began to flee from the battle. Mythril knew this meant low health, and set about to charge after him.

Without choice, he found himself fast by his side. A movement that he knew he could not have done if he had simply run towards the creature. As he lifted his blade and slashed against its side Mythril noted that he must check his combat log as soon as he could.

The creature fell, and as always, a bag of loot was left in its wake.

“No time!”

Mythril had been bending down to pick up the bag, but at Timothy’s call he turned back to see that the scarecrow was already back on its path towards the farm house. He left the bag alone and sprinted forward to follow, reaching into his satchel as he did.

He pulled out his scroll, ignoring Timothy’s questions, knowing that soon more enemies would be upon them.

COMBAT LOG.

He scrolled past the creature moves, swiped up again when he realized he had reached the end. Found it. [Knight’s Blaze].

Audreg cried out behind him. He turned to see eight creatures now sprinting towards them. He knew that they were of little risk to him, but he didn’t want the scarecrow being struck down.

He swiped out of COMBAT LOG, over to LEGACY.

A dagger narrowly missed his head, knocked out of the way by Timothy.

“Mythril, fight!”

Mythril continued to swipe down. TRAINING. He ignored how many abilities had gone since he checked earlier that day. He found it as a second dagger parried, this time by the smack of Audreg’s wing.

[Knight’s Blaze]

The wanderer moves at a quickened pace, lunging towards his enemy he strikes him for a minimal amount of damage.

He had figured out how to perform a second move. Or maybe the first, he wasn’t sure if being able to equip your sword counted as anything. He breathed in deeply, looked to a creature who although still a part of the group of bush-birds was furthest away. He sprinted towards it, appearing by its side and bringing down his sword. Loot at his feet, a smirk across his lips, he appeared fast beside the bush-bird that fought against Audreg.

He brought it down with ease, and ignoring Audreg’s complaints as he claimed her foe, he swiftly brought the rest of the group down. The eight bags of loot cluttered around them, Timothy nearly stumbling over one as the scarecrow walked through them and continued towards the farmhouse they were now fast approaching.

They reached the gate and the scarecrow pulled it forth with such force it swung over his head and landed with a clatter behind them. They could hear the laughter of the monster from inside.

CROW MOTHER. SEE ME AND FACE YOUR FINAL SON.

The crows that hopped in and out of the window soon stopped at the sound of his voice. The

laughter from inside stilled and all around them Mythril felt a silence that unnerved him.

The crows flew through the window and to the inside of the house, just as before the Crow Mother burst through the door and they clustered around her cawing and swooping down on Mythril.

YOUR WISDOM WILL MAKE A FINE ALLY TO MY BLADE.

My wisdom made straw and hay of you

Mythril had begun to groan at the scarecrow’s words, but hearing the Crow Mother speak stopped him in his tracks. Her voice was as shrill and malicious as her laughter, he shuddered before he continued to take down the crows. It took very little time, but as soon as the last fell four bush-birds appeared around them. Mythril took his blade to the two nearest, Audreg and Timothy taking out the third. The fourth began to flee the garden of the farm house, and without needing to use [Knight’s Blaze] Mythril chased after him to deliver a final blow.

YOU WILL BE DESTROYED BY YOUR OWN CREATION

I am of immortal blood, I will be destroyed by no blade

“Mythril,” Timothy called over to him. “Hurry, I think she’s about to be taken down!”

Now Mythril saw a perfect opportunity to charge at an enemy. He dashed towards the Crow Mother, the scarecrow at his side slashing his sword against her. Mythril lunged the tip of his blade into her stomach. A shrill cry echoed into the sky.

In a tornado of feathers the Crow Mother transformed. At once woman and bird, now only of feather and wing. She hovered high above them, her black wings crashing at the air with great strength. The Crow Mother looked down on the four of them, her eyes steely and wise.

Of straw you’ll stay

She said no more her wings carrying her further into the sky while they watched in silence.

“Did we do something wrong?”

Mythril felt as though something was off. The scarecrow was still a scarecrow, now walking solemnly into his home. Timothy looked between them unsure as to whether or not the quest had gone as planned.

“Were you supposed to have some kind of involvement in this other than what just happened?” Mythril felt himself again suspicious.

“No,” Timothy said, holding his hands up in the air. “We established already that I have no idea what quest line I’m a part of. I might have messed something up, but not this.”

Mythril pulled out his scroll and navigated to his QUEST LOG.

The Crow Mother

My blade again within my grasp, to set upon a deadly task. Allow me make the final blow, so she might reap what she did sow.

“Damnit,” Mythril said. He pushed open the door to the farmhouse and found the scarecrow seated uncomfortably at a table. His head was in his hands and he did not make an effort to glance up as they entered.

Mythril approached him, unsure of how to talk to someone who obviously wasn’t a player character.

“Hello,” he said, stopping short of tapping the scarecrow on the shoulder when it turned to face him.

“You did not allow me my revenge, brother,” the scarecrow said, it’s eyes of stones still managing to show an expression of sadness. “The Crow Mother will go on and I will remain as this.”

Guiltily, his failing the quest first led Mythril’s mind to wonder if this meant he wouldn’t get any reward, but soon after he was instead back to worrying what he might have started by not taking down the Crow Mother.

“What can I do?” he asked, taking a seat opposite the scarecrow. At the centre of the table was a basket of fruit, full to the brim with berries. On the table itself, they had rolled and been crushed into the wood, leaving purple and red stains to soak into it. He glanced about the kitchen, for the noise the Crow Mother had been making he had previously thought the house would be destroyed. Instead, he saw that berry branches were hung around the kitchen. He was unsure if it was for decoration or food.

A thump of a hand landing heavily on the table drew his attention back to the scarecrow. “There is nothing that can be done,” he said. “The legend goes that once her wisdom is granted, once she has cursed you and taken your soul, only when you are gifted your sword and taken her own soul in revenge might you return to your true form. I am doomed to this for eternity.”

Mythril gulped. In other games not reading the quest text was hardly ever a problem. The worst it would do is leave you roaming around the wrong zone or village for a while, it wouldn’t mess up an NPC’S life. If it did, you’d hardly know about it because you wouldn’t be sat having a conversation with them afterwards.

“You have your house back.”

Timothy took a seat beside Mythil and opposite the scarecrow. Behind him, Mythril saw that Audreg was poking her head through the window and taking turns between stealing berries from wherever she could reach them and peering at the men sat around the table.

“I do have my home.”

Something of a smile turned the twig that made up the scarecrow’s mouth upwards. He patted his hand on the table. “A home,” he said again before tapping his hand against the side of his head, “and the Crow Mother’s wisdom.” He rose from where he was seated and began to pluck down the branches of berries. “I shall make something of it yet.” He placed the branch onto the palm of his hand, and then leaning into it he whispered something indecipherable to it. When he next revealed the berries, they were no longer a deep purple, but instead a mixture of green and blue.

He turned back to Mythril and handed him the branch. “I thank you for returning me my home, even if you decided the fate of my revenge.”

Mythril turned the branch over in his hand. Given that he hadn’t completed the quest like he was supposed to have he felt it wasn’t the worst thing the scarecrow could have given him.

“What is it?” he asked, wondering if he was supposed to eat it. A part of him hoping that the answer would be yes.

“It is for your strange and violent bird. Take her to a stable hand and have them train her with these berries. She will fight faster and mightier once she has consumed them.”

Mythril examined them again, holding them up to the light. “I can trust this? You’re not trying to poison Audreg?”

The scarecrow laughed as he walked to the door of the farmhouse. “I believe all poison could do to that bird is have her sleep soundly for a few hours.”

Mythril knew that the scarecrow held the door open for them to leave. He pushed the berries into his satchel, no longer amazed at their disappearance once he let them out of his grip. He approached the scarecrow uneasily, not sure whether or not he should shake its hand.

The scarecrow made this easy for him, he clasped him on his shoulder and staring into his eyes said, “Should you chance upon the Crow Mother again. You kill her.”

Mythril nodded, resisting the urge to also clasp the scarecrow on the shoulder as though it were some kind of game world hand shake.

He left the farm house, Timothy following shortly behind. Together they walked through a gate that Mythril noticed was now oddly back in place and left the garden behind. Audreg joined at his side. He couldn’t help but wonder at the worth of his lone adventure. He had learnt to equip his sword, and a move that may have started a quest line that he didn’t intend to, or fail one that he had hoped to complete. He wasn’t quite sure yet. It felt like little success, especially leaving with only berries and with no greater knowledge on how he carried his abilities even if he was learning that he could.

“Looking a bit fed up,” Timothy commented, giving Mythril a pat on the back. “It’s alright, he got back his farm. If you look at it, staying a scarecrow can’t be too bad a thing when you’re a farmer. Crows will keep as far away as possible from this one. Who knows how that might benefit the crop growth.”

“True,” Mythril agreed. “But he wanted revenge and I messed up. I spent what? An hour here, two hours maybe, I have no idea how the time moves here, and I’m leaving with a snack for Audreg and an ability to charge at people.”

“At least you’re now truly sober,” Timothy said with a wink. “I best get back to my dirt grave.”

Mythril stopped walking. “You’re what?”

“Well, it was very nice to go on this quest with you and all, but as we’ve established we have no idea what I’m supposed to actually be doing. I’ll see you around is what I suppose I’m saying.”

“I doubt that if you’re going to be spending you’re time in the ground.”

Timothy nodded his head, a thought of elsewhere on his mind. “Good point, that’s not a place where we want you to end up.” He clasped his hand on to Mythril’s shoulder. “You’ll do good, even when you get it wrong, I’m sure you’ll make it right.”

This time, Mythril did clasp back. “Okay,” he said and stared into Timothy’s eyes, unblinking.

It was a long and awkward minute, just as Mythril hoped it would be. Eventually Timothy loosened his grasp and stepped backwards. “Until next time then.”

“Until next time,” Mythril replied. He watched as Timothy walked around the barn and began to dig his way back into the ground. He couldn’t help but shake his head and stifle a laugh. “Come on, Audreg. Not that the group seem to care that I’ve gone missing, but we better get to them.” He took one last look towards where Timothy had been and saw that only a hand could be seen.

Audreg dipped down to the ground, her knees bending at such an angle they looked as though they should break as Mythril jumped upon her back. He once again straightened her bow, paid no mind as she seemed to try and shake it loose again, before tapping her lightly on the side and guiding her away from the Buckberry Farm.

Behind them, a hand pushed forth from the dirt, soon after it an arm followed, until a head poked free. Two brown eyes peering after Mythril, watching as he disappeared into the distance.