5.16

“The first friend I met, I played with for a hundred and one nights.

Then he died, a smile on his lips as I bested him for the first time.” - Wundall, the God of Games

As I returned back into the inn, I saw that Utoqa was still sitting by the table. Head still scanning, as if searching for something in the room.

“Not tired?”

“I am,” the lizardfolk simply answered. Not bothering to elaborate as he continued to scan the room.

“What are you weary about?” I asked, pulling a seat beside him.

It took him a while to answer. His head still spun around, and he occasionally turned his waist around to look behind him. I waited, patient and curious before he finally answered.

“I don’t know.”

That raised an eyebrow for me, “Why are you worried if you don’t know what you are worried about?”

“I don’t know.”

I struggled to keep the frustration off my mind. Utoqa’s mind literally worked differently from mine, he didn’t have the frame of reference to add subtext or reason. “Will you be able to rest properly?”

“If by rest, you imply a full sleep, I do not believe so.” For the first time, Utoqa turned and looked directly at him. “A night watch would be useful.”

My eyebrow rose again, “Describe the threat and the feeling you have.”

“I do not know what threat. All I do is that my instincts are telling me to be prepared.”

My mouth made a clicking noise, just as I felt Yellow plaster itself on the side of my cap, “Prepared against what?”

“I do not know."

‘Fear the Deafening Silence.’

For some reason, those words returned to me and I briefly looked out the window, seeing my glowing reflection in the glass. Glass, something I realised with a start was pretty advanced. Though there might’ve been some sort of magic that made it common.

“Let’s hope it’s nothing,” I spoke.

“It may be something,” Utoqa replied. His lizard face was utterly unreadable, even if I knew he was worried.

“That is why we prepare,” I answered, “I’ll shroom up our windows and keep watch. I am reasonably certain I can stay alert the whole night without negative consequence.” I was a nocturnal creature after all.

“Very well,” Utoqa said, rising from his seat. He headed towards the stairs before he awkwardly turned his head toward me. Awkward in the fact that he seemed to have taken the effort to make the movement smooth and slow instead of his usual sudden jerk. “I am relieved.”

“You practised head-turning?”

“It is a necessity to be able to communicate without causing alarm,” the lizardfolk answered.

I simply raised an eyebrow at that, which he admirably tried to imitate, a feat ultimately useless given that he didn’t have eyebrows. “Wait up,” I said as I caught up to him.

Placing a hand on his back, as I cannot reach his shoulders, I defocused, “Declan?”

“Observe.”

Utoqa almost leapt as he felt the power, but he stayed his ground as he stared directly at me. Eyes unblinking.

“My eyes are yours.”

Neither a question nor affirmation, but something in between.

Name: Utoqa the Tribeless

Race: Variant Lizardfolk (Oasis Touched Tequalan)

Racials:

Variant Lizardfolk Level 1

Classes:

Artificer Level 1

Survivalist Level 3

Total Level: 5

Body

Strength: 14

Agility: 14

Dexterity: 15

Constitution: 17

Stamina: 16

Vitality: 14

Mind

Intelligence: 9

Wisdom: 13

Charisma: 4

Soul

Will: 6

Psyche: 7

Perception: 21

Racials:

Natural Armour and Weapons, Hold Breath, Magical Darkvision, Variant Biology,

Class Skills:

Artificer:

Path: Scavenge

Scavenge: A trick that allows him to craft magical items out of the corpses of creatures. They are imbued with aspects of the creature’s power but tend to be one use only unless the creature was very strong.

Survivalist:

Path: Survive

Survive: Three charges, he may expend charges to use certain abilities. Regain all charges upon a long rest or one charge every short rest.

- Salve (One Charge): Utoqa is healed for an amount based on his total level and Vitality.

- Sustenance (One Charge): Utoqa gains enough nourishment to sustain himself for one day.

- Stalk (One Charge): Utoqa marks a target, he instinctively knows the movements of this target and may track it for up to a day while the mark lasts.

- Survive (One Charge): Utoqa ignores one instance of lethal damage and is brought back to consciousness. If Utoqa were to die, this automatically activated if he has the appropriate charges. This ability does not heal existing wounds or ailments save for those causing death.

“They are,” I simply answered as a new vision opened up. “We’ll get a move on as soon as possible. If you’re freaked out then there’s no point in staying in some random town.”

We rented a single two-bedroom. A solid seven or eight metres in length with a bed placed against the width of the walls, and a large glass window in the middle, directly in front of the door.

Utoqa crept into the sheets of the unoccupied bed as Noam snored at the other end, swiftly falling to sleep. I stood by the window between them, the sparse moonlight peeking through from behind dark clouds.

I planted a few sporages around the window, three on the bottom width, and five on both the left and right length. Proximity ones, with their heads facing outwards to avoid friendly fire. An unfortunate trait of my spells that made me poor for enclosed team combat, but a worthy tradeoff for the sheer room-clearing power I have.

Like that, I passed the night, standing between an injured ally and a paranoid one. Mind dimmed, but ready at any time to respond to threats.

I was thankful that nothing happened.

Rain pattered the window when I refocused. It started slowly at first, gradually building up until it became a torrential downpour. It happened so slowly, my torpor mind did not pick it up. Simply hearing the sound and writing it off as it built.

I turned around, noting that the sporages had not been disturbed, and had in fact withered over the night. I collected the ten sporage husks. Probably useless, but it was nice to check if anything could be done with them.

From my side, Utoqa opened an eye, the action… lazy. “Netakata…”

“What?” I asked, not too quietly it seemed as I dodged Noam’s pillow.

Slowly, the lizardfolk spoke, “Cold… Resting day…” before his eyes slowly closed, asleep once again.

Oh. He was a lizard. Cold-blooded huh, didn’t actually think about that. It was kinda chilly, though the dampness that was seeping in was extremely comfortable.

“Wisps,” both stood at attention on my cap. “Keep watch of them, if someone knocks, ask questions on why they’re here. If someone breaks in, sneeze them and ask questions later. If someone attacks, poison them and also ask questions later.”

““Got it!”” they replied in their chirping language.

“You too Noam,” I said to the figure pretending to be sleeping, “Make sure our gecko is safe.”

“He’s a monitor lizard at worst,” I heard him hoarsely reply.

Leaving the room, I made sure to quietly close the door so that I wouldn’t wake anyone with my movements. It was still early morning, 5:36 AM if real-world time translated one to one, though I suspected even if I made a lot of noise, the sound of the rain is quite literally enough to drown it out.

Slowly I stepped down the stairs, wincing slightly as they creaked underfoot. I wished to test a theory of mine because even if I had a racial weakness for desiccation, I have never yet actually felt thirsty or the need to drink in any way. An oddity and since it was raining outside, I figured I should kill two birds with one stone as I stepped outside-

The rain pelted me, each drop like a stone slamming against my body. I underestimated the intensity of the rain, it was severe, to the point that I actually sunk a few centimetres into the muddied ground underneath.

Worse, I underestimated the intensity of my reaction.

Calling the sensation orgasmic would not be too far off the mark, however, it gave incorrect connotations of sexual pleasure, when I felt none of the sort.

But in terms of pure intensity and legitimate pleasure, it was an apt description, that didn’t do the feeling justice.

Every droplet of rain, I sensed entering the small area of my manavision. Every droplet of rain that hit me, felt like a master masseuse unravelling a knot of muscle. Every droplet of rain that rolled down my body, felt like those videos where a high-pressure water hose cleanly washed away dirt and grime.

The mud beneath soaked into my stump-like feet, cool, relaxing, cleansing.

It was so refreshing, I literally didn’t know a word or language that effectively communicate how refreshing it felt.

Like carrying a heavy bag a long-distance, slowly getting used to it, then shedding it at the destination, feeling the freedom on your shoulders as the weight lifts.

Like a full spa treatment, your body lovingly cared for by an army of masters, muscle knots, tiredness, dirt and sweat, all removed so thoroughly you felt like a completely new person.

Like waking up after a long night’s rest, feeling fully rested, the feeling of arising completely energised for the day. The quiet but steady energy of rest.

It was all those things and more. If I ever had sex in this life, I could confidently say it wouldn’t be as good as this.

For a while… I simply stood there. My original plan of casing the perimeter long-forgotten…

Dustin returned to the inn, his body heavily soaked, yet he was positively glowing with energy. Literally, his body was glowing noticeably brighter than previously.

“The fuck happened to you?” Noam asked as he came in.

“Nothing much,” Dustin replied in a noticeably more… chipper manner.

Something akin to horror began to fill Noam’s face, “Oh no. Which poor sod did you scam?”

Catching the mushroom thrown at him, Noam laughed, “Great! You’re still the same ass.”

“He’s always had the same ass?” Greenie yelled as it crawled onto Noam’s shoulder.

“No I mean as in-” too late did he catch the mischievous look on the wisp, “Man, everyone’s disrespecting me now,” he said with a light-hearted chuckle as he turned around to a man bandaged from head to toe.

“*Cough*, by the gods you are zestful,

I wish I got the same restful,” the bard said, his voice hoarse and burnt.

“Yo Dusts, meet Fareeq, he’s the awesome guy who took one of my spells!”

“I noticed that,” Dustin replied as he took a seat by them. Slightly bowing towards Fareeq, he introduced himself, “Mornin, I’m Dustin, sorry for the trouble this idiot gave you.”

The bard waved away the apology,

“Tis all fair and good,

I lost, that’s what stood.

He could’ve done worse,

Yet I left with only a voice hoarse,” the bard said, managing to be surprisingly eloquent despite his state of injury.

“Let me help at least,” Dustin raised his staff, “I have a few rhymes of my own.”

“Pain pain go away,

Rain leave for next day,

Now feel the numbness,

Bring Fix-Up-Fungus,” he quietly chanted and his Bark Skin faded away as a mushroom, about the size of a sitting stool, erupted between the two injured individuals, seemingly not disturbing the dirt underneath it.

Dustin didn’t get a good look before, but the mushroom had a quite distinct appearance, its cap was completely white, to the point it appeared pale. The cap was multilayered, with each stacking upon each other like a bundle of cloth. He quickly realised that the mushroom seemed to ‘breathe’ as it shrunk and expanded. The action was mesmerising, almost like looking at a jellyfish. Each time it ‘breathed’ out, he saw the frilled underside of each layer and a wide puff of healing spores puffed out, attaching themselves to the two nearest, Noam and Fareeq.

The bard smiled,

“You are most kind,

To give me peace of mind.”

“No need for thanks,” Noam said, “he’s not listening.”

Dustin really wasn’t, eyes studying the way the spores seemed to stimulate the body to knit itself back together. Nets of mycelium covered the wound, before they disintegrated, a tiny piece at a time, leaving unblemished and clean skin.

The healing was slower than all the rest Dustin had seen before, but he knew it would grant more in the long term.

Another disadvantage was the fact he couldn’t control the release of its spores, but that’s a problem good positioning can fix.

The doors slammed opened and the roar of the rain briefly loudened as it found a way in. A chilly breeze that got even Dustin to look towards the door.

“Farry!” a short, probably a gnome yelled, “I heard you got roasted recently!”

The bard groaned, “Day after day I say,

No skill or tact in puns, only wordplay.”

There was a chuckle as he neared the table, bowing, he said “Greetings, greetings, apologies for my friend. He cannot speak my name due to an unfortunate curse.”

“A curse?” Noam asked.

The man’s face turned gravely serious, “Indeed, it is a curse of rhyming dealt to him by Tilt.”

The god of kids or something, Dustin recalled, hand itching to grab his notes.

“I swore only once!

Near a child who was a dunce!”

“Oh shit isn’t Tilt the goddess who bleeped people?” Noam yelled out, finally making something useful of his education.

“Aye,” the bard answered, looking poignantly at the tiefling.

Chuckling as Noam covered his mouth, the short one introduced himself, “Anyways, I am Corvian Diluvian Medudian Himotonana Farraday the Middling! Priest of Wundall, pleasure to meet you!”

“Well if there was any question of whether he’s a gnome or halfling.”

Corvian Diluvian Medudian Himotonana Farraday the Middling reached to shake Dustin’s hand, shaking the arm with gusto when the myconid hesitantly reached out.

“Well, I’m Dustin.”

“I’m Noam.”

“I’m a Greenie!”

“Fascinating!” the gnome replied, before turning to the heavily bandaged man to his left. “Are you still up for today Farry?”

The bard scoffed, “A battle of wit I will not lose,

Today is the day your defeat comes in twos!”

“Woah woah, aren’t you still a bit too hurt to do anything?”

Both gnome and bard looked at each other, then at Noam, before laughing.

Throwing off his heavy wool coat, the gnome revealed a sling bag from which he pulled out a metal box, approximately the size of a…

“Deck box?” Dustin asked.

Fareeq pulled out a similarly sized box from his back pocket, then in unison they slammed them onto the polished wooden table.

“It’s time to-”

“I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TWO TO STOP SLAMMING METAL ONTO THE TABLES!” a high pitched voice yelled from behind the counter.

“Sorry!”

“Madam, I give my sincerest apology,

But I need to give him a whooping surpassing his psychology!”

Both replied at once.

“The table is on your tabs!” the girl yelled back, before turning back to her job of cooking enough breakfast to feed her several dozen new customers.

“This…” Dustin hesitantly began.

“Is a card game?” Noam finished.

“The very one!” Corvian replied, gently removing his cards and splaying them out for view.

“Artwork is professionally made. Cards themselves are very well cared for,” Dustin quickly assessed. The cards were placed in a thin transparent covering that seemed waterproof. “What is the cover material?”

“Looks like plastic,” Noam said as he quietly gestured a ‘may I?’ towards the cards. The gnome happily nodded, and Noam picked the cards up.

“Dwarven soft glass,” Corvian answered. “A delightful invention. Cost me a prince’s ransom, but as a devout priest I have to ensure my tools of worship are well maintained.”

“Wait.” Noam stopped, carefully placing the cards back on the table, and looked the gnome dead in the eye. “Worship?”

“Wundull is the god of games, of course, I worship him by playing.”

Noam squealed with all the joy of someone who had just found their god.

Age of Wonders was a surprisingly in-depth and well established TCG. Whilst Noam tried his hand the first time with a spare deck, I watched their three-way game with interest.

The game could fit anywhere from two to four players, with homebrewed rules that could even allow a fifth, however, four was the intended norm. It was a mixture between a classical tabletop war game and a trading card game, with different factions of units based on real-world people, locations, skills and magics, but despite that, decks still followed conventions I was familiar with.

Noam was playing a midrange aggro Orc Raiders deck, focusing on getting beefy units onto the board to rush down an opponent.

Fareeq was similarly using an aggro deck, where he differed was that it was a Drow deck, focused on placing unblockable Stealth units onto the field. The individual units were not particularly strong, however, their unblockability made them able to rush down Corvian, and later Noam.

Noam set down his cards, “Cursed stealth units.”

The bard chuckled, “Remember not to curse,

Else you end up somewhere worst.”

“Your rhymes are the worst part about you my friend,” the gnome chipped in. “Friend Dustin, do you wish to play as well? You have been staring at our game like racca hawks to a meat pie.”

“What’s a racca hawk?” Noam asked as he cleanly shuffled his deck with a riffle. The overly talented bastard wasn’t even looking.

“Imagine a raccoon that can fly and dive bomb,” Corvian casually answered much to everyone’s mounting horror.

“I wouldn’t mind,” I replied to Corvian’s question, “Do you have any more decks?”

“Do I?” the gnome chuckled as he placed the bag onto the table. Cheerfully, he removed six other boxes and placed them in front of me. “What kind of priest would I be if I wasn’t ready to convert people?”

“A pretty bad one I guess,” I answered noncommittally as I picked them up and began checking my selection.

I looked through all of them once or twice, figuring out their ideal tempo and curve, before I settled on one, a control deck centred around undead.

“This one?”

Both the priest and bard went deathly silent.

“Corvian you fool, you still had that?

Do you really want to end up dead as a rat?”

“I can’t just toss it Jaga Kai.”

“What’s the sudden tension bout?” Noam asked.

“That,” Corvian pointed at the deck in my hand, “Is a Revenant King Deck, and as you know, there are certain people who get…” the gnome paused, looking around as if to spot a hidden threat. “Burny about those things.”

“If Wundull is not a god most good,

Friend of all that could.

Then will come a crusade,

No matter how we prayed.”

I raised an eyebrow at that, though Noam seemed to get something I didn’t and glanced at me. I carefully put the deck away, then selected the next one I had my eye on.

“What about this?”

“A Deep Deck?

Careful, else you end a wreck.”

“Bah! Deep Decks are a solid all-rounder choice, you have a good eye mushroom man!”

““Can we play?”” both wisp yelled out.

“My familiars want to play as well,” I translated.

The gnome quirked an eyebrow with amusement, “Take your pick then!”

“How bout we raise the stakes a bit?” Noam suggested. “Loser buys everyone a round.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I shall enjoy my free drink then,

Earned without lifting a pen!”

“Hoho? You’ve played one game and think you’re ready to face us?”

“We won’t lose!” Yellow declared as Greenie was mesmerised by the pretty card art.

“Declan?”

“What?” came an irritated voice, “I’m in class.”

“I need your help winning.”

“Why should I-”

“The loser buys drinks,” my real self froze at my words. “Noam suggested it.”

Slowly, Declan put down an old pen, his attention completely shifted away. For we were both aware, there were things worth more than education.

“Game?”

“TCG called Age of Wonders, ‘5’ players with air quotes. Mana system. Fusion with a board game…”

I saw Noam smirk with my manavision, knowing my lack of response was a good enough response.

He was not the type of person to let me half-ass things.