Chapter 100

If You Can Get Past Them.

Hawkin.

That oughta do it.

Nearly one-hundred hoppy mana beers for Thrush. Horace had passed on the message that Thrush needed mana beers, so I wanted to be prepared the next time I received someone on the ethereal plane. Thrush would probably still need more.

I left the cellar of the plane and took a stroll through meadows of goldenrods. Honey bees swarmed in halos over the flowers. I’d taken my boots off and relished the warm grass as I made my way.

I’d completed my shard quest just last week, and already it was a tremendous tool to have. Anything I harvested on the ethereal plane went straight into the silo. Safe and sound. Not having to manage all the grain freed up almost two-hundred barrels, which gave me a break from coopering.

To celebrate reaching level 900, I took the day off and simply strolled through the plane. I’d brought a beer with me. I pulled the cork.

[Nunley’s Pale Ale.]

[Bronze. Greater Workman.]

[Originates from Salindune. Brewed by Nunley Caster.]

I knew what I was getting into with a Greater Workman quality ale, but I had so many beers that I needed to go through. Beers that I’ve accrued through loot chests that have been simply sitting around. No matter the quality, it was exciting for me to try new ones. So before anything else, I dropped a splash onto my collector’s journal.

I sipped. Winced.

Oof.

The beer was wildly hoppy. The wrong hops had been used. Whereas fruitier and more citric hops could have enhanced the beer, it was instead bogged down by earthy and vegetal hops. The malt was a beautiful pale straw. Something light that would blend in with wheat fields. The aftertaste left much to be desired. Even the carbonation was lacking. The amount of sediment was awful.

I was brewing the same quality beers only months ago. Now I’m brewing goblin spit beer non stop. Ha!

I waded through the goldenrods to where the bouncing bet bloomed in clusters of pinks and whites. I laid among them in the cool underbrush, occasionally sitting up to finish my beer. My god, it was nice to breathe and relax for once. Not that I minded brewing so much all the time. In fact I loved it. Goblin spit beer or otherwise.

Deep down, I had my sights on a few other things. Brewing the Mist Hidden attribute beer. Exploring more ethereal planes. Maybe even brewing beers that were essentially portals to dungeons, just like Dellia had mentioned. Then there were memory attribute beers, but I’m not sure anyone would like my memories. Perhaps those attributes were better reserved for better brewers. People who had lives full of amazing memories.

My favorite memories were simple glimpses of life in the woods. Sleeping beneath a pine. Swimming in the summer sea when the fog rolled off the water. Opening my cabin door to find that a herd of deer had slept in the clearing overnight. Meeting Thrush for the first time. Feeding the birds morning after morning.

I stretched and gave a big sigh. I put my hands behind my head and closed my eyes. The sounds of crickets and grasshoppers filled my mind. An occasional leaf scraped against my skin. I brushed insects from my arms. The intermittent bee quietly buzzed by. At some point, an odd shadow eclipsed the sun.

“Hello, Hawkin.”

I rose and squinted at the silhouette of a woman. Dellia.

“Dellia,” I said and made to get up.

“No, no,” she said. “Stay comfortable. May I sit beside you?”

“Please,” I said.

“How are things?”

“I was just daydreaming about my life in the woods. Things have been well, thanks for asking. How about you?”

“The same. A thousand things go on at once, and I must tend to it all.”

“I can’t imagine,” I said.

“That’s right. You can’t.” She smiled. “I’m proud of you. You’re on the brink of reaching silver.”

“I think about it a lot. I wonder what it will mean.”

“Others will start to seek you out for your skill. You’ll likely earn the portal attribute. I’ll work more closely with you to design planes cutter beers with specific destinations in mind.”

“I’d like that,” I said. “I enjoy your company. You’re easy to be around.”

“How are things with your Mist Hidden attribute journey?”

“Thrush is out in the world looking for cowbell roots.”

Dellia shook her head. “You’ve definitely done something that will help you become one of the greatest brewers.”

“What did I do exactly?”

Dellia paused, and then said, “Were you not afraid of the nightream when you first met him?”

“Thrush?”

She nodded.

“Perhaps a little,” I said.

“Your circumstance is quite incredible,” she said. Then moved on.

Dellia wanted to hear all about my journey since we last spoke. I filled her in on all the beers I’ve had. The ones that impressed me. The ones I wanted to clone, or aspired to clone one day. She didn’t have much to say after our first conversation. She told me she was content to listen and take in everything I felt like sharing. Otherwise, we laughed back and forth about nonsense.

Then it happened again where I was in the middle of telling a story about BarnacleEyes, only to turn to Dellia and find she was gone. I wasn’t offended. Never was. She was a goddess after all. There were infinitely better things to do than hang out with a hermit.

When I returned to my woods, I smoked some of the rabbit that BarnacleEyes had caught in one of her traps. While on the smoker, I gave her the pelt and asked if she wanted any of the bones.

“Pretty,” she said.

“I’ll teach you how to tan it.”

“Would you?”

“Of course. Do you want the bones too?”

BarnacleEyes turned the skull and bones over in her hands, then tossed them beneath her stool.

“Yea, I’ll keep them. I could maybe trade them.”

In less than an hour, we ate smoked rabbit by the fire pit. I poured some goblin spit beer into a silver boot for BarnacleEyes, and opened up another Super Tavern ale from an unfamiliar western brewery.

The malt was darker, and the hops subdued.

“That hits the spot,” BarnacleEyes said. She burped. “Do you think we’ll see more people on the plane?”

“I think so. I’ll be checking every day and we still haven’t got any cowbell roots. Until then, I think we’ll have some visitors.”

“Will you be ready to brew your beer when you do have the roots?”

“I’m almost there,” I said.

“So you have to brew the beer, and then pour it on the ground?”

“That’s right. The effect works when poured as a libation.”

“Does it matter where?” She said while tearing at a stretch of meat.

“I’m going to make it a big area so that there’s a lot of land to explore.”

“What about the port? I really want a port for my boat when I build it.”

“We could take the orcs' port right out from under them. Hide it in the mist along with the coast. What do you think of that?”

“If you can get past them, then sure,” she said with a shrug.

“That’s the problem isn’t it? Well, in the meantime, it’s one day at a time.”