Adam rubbed his eyes, trying to rub the wetness away from them. “I didn’t think Charles was going to be so manly.” Adam shook his head, trying to shake the romantic sorrow out of himself.

Jurot nodded his head slowly, having shared the same feeling with the half elf when he had first heard the story. He had expected Charles’ death, due to the way the story had changed to focusing on Charles, but he never would have expected the way he died, or why he did so.

“Why did he do it?” Adam asked, throwing a glance towards Dargon. “Why did he fight so hard for the drakken?”

“It is explained later,” Dargon said, his lips almost twitching into a playful smile.

“How much later?” Adam narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Dargon not continuing the story after he was promised the tale.

“When will you tell me about it?” Adam narrowed his eyes at the Iyrman, who seemed to be running away from his promise.

“Another time,” Dargon said, looking at the dead trikros. “We should find a place to settle and sleep.”

“Alright, alright, fine…” Adam grumbled quietly, but he helped them clear the area before they continued their way.

The forest seemed much quieter now, with the looming deaths of the trikros unsettling them all. It wasn’t their deaths, but their presences, which had caused the entire forest to grow silent. Soon, the life of the forest began to return, the sounds filling the area.

When evening had come, they had found a place to set up camp, a place which had a few fences buried into the ground, and a small pit for a fire. Nearby, there was also a stream for them to fill their waterskins, and to provide water for their meals. Dargon cooked something light, using their rations this time, as well as some of the trikro meat. The meat was quite tough, though was extremely fatty.

Adam took a bite, froze for a moment, and then slowly put the meat back into the bowl.

Spell

Tricks

Once he had flavoured it to taste like roasted beef, he returned to eating it. It was weirdly chewy, like jelly. The texture left much to be desired.

The Iyrmen looked at him, their lips trying to keep still, but they couldn’t help but enjoy his struggle. There was something about seeing others struggle innocently which brought joy to people.

“We should be at the village by late afternoon,” Argon said.

“We won’t break much tomorrow. The village may be in trouble if we delay too long.” Tazwyn snapped a cracker in half and bit into it.

“If it wasn’t for the trikro, we would have made our way closer tonight. We could have pressed on until we were there.”

“We should have brought Onmar,” Tazwyn said.

Argon nodded his head, but it was too late for that now. They had refrained from bringing the Iyrman in order to allow Jurot to grow without so many boons beside him.

Once they had finished eating, they began to take their wartches. Adam, as per usual, didn’t take watch, leaving it to the Iyrmen. He wasn’t sure if they trusted him to take watch yet and there was no point in keeping appearances.

Adam slipped into his bedroll and threw a look over to Jurot, who had his blanket wrapped over himself, the familiar blue diamonds and circle knitted along the edges. “Just how many stories do you have like that in the Iyr?” Adam asked.

“Many,” Jurot replied. “Most Iyrmen learn a few hundred at least, but there should be at least a hundred thousand. Only a few know the exact number.”

“At least a hundred thousand?” Adam almost whistled in surprise. “Jeez. Why do you have so many stories?” It was a rhetorical question, but Iyrmen did their best to answer such questions anyway.

“So we are never forgotten,” Jurot said, recalling how they had almost completely died out so many years ago. “Not all Iyrmen leave the Iyr, but those who do, bring back at least ten stories. Usually, it’s many more stories, and some return with tales of other great warriors.” Jurot smiled, thinking about all the foreign heroes he had heard about. “There are many tales of other warriors, those which we have kept within the Iyr. Some have been lost due to the loss of their people, but we keep them.” He thought about Blackwater Crisis, and some of the stories which came after. “Brandon the Bold. Lira of Everglade. Melon.”

“Melon?” Adam asked. He couldn’t help but feel that name was different to the other too.

“Melon.” Jurot nodded, recalling the tale. “The greatest slime to ever live. They say it came from another world. It was a slime who created its own kingdom, Monster Heartland, before it was eventually destroyed. We didn’t believe in the story first, but then…”

“What?” Adam asked, leaning in closer. It reminded him a story which he knew of, though he hadn’t read it all before he had died.

Jurot’s eyes flashed past Adam, before he glanced away. “I cannot say,” he said, noting the looks of the other Iyrmen. There were a few stories entrusted to the younger generation, but they could not speak them so carelessly to outsiders.

Adam leaned in further, staring harshly at the Iyrman. “You can’t just stop half way through! Come on!” He squinted his eyes towards Jurot. ‘What is with all these damn Iyrmen and not finishing their tales?’

“I cannot say,” Jurot said, shaking his head and rolling over, as though finishing their conversation there.

Adam sighed. “If it were anyone else, I’d annoy them until they told me.” The half elf leaned back in his bedroll. Up above, he could see the stars. They were foreign stars, though he hadn’t paid too much attention to the night sky in his first life. There were several oddities in the sky, like the green and blue streaks which appeared across the sky. He knew not what they were, but he stared at their mystical beauty.

“Hey, Jurot?” Adam eventually called out minutes later.

“Yes, Adam?” Jurot replied, still looking aside.

“If I die a manly death, will you tell people my story?” Adam continued to stare at the stars.

Jurot turned to look at Adam once more. “Yes,” Jurot said. “I will.”

Omen: 1, 2

When they awoke in the morning, Adam trekked to the nearby stream to rinse himself off. He had kept clean by bathing every so often, and with his magic. However, today he was lost in his thoughts. An emptiness filled his core.

He inhaled deeply before dunking himself into the stream, feeling the cold invade him like a thousand daggers, before he pulled back up, gasping for air. He scrambled out of the stream and panted, looking down at his underclothes which stuck to him like a second layer of skin.

Spell

Tricks

“Is something wrong?” Jurot asked as Adam dried himself off using magic.

Adam turned to look at him. “I don’t want to die a manly death,” Adam said. “I want to live a lovely, long life. You’d better not let me die, Jurot.”

Jurot squinted slightly at Adam, with eyes full of disappointment. Last night, Adam had gained some respect from the Iyrman, but the half elf was beginning to lose it. Still, Jurot did not forget how well Adam had fought against the undead. ‘Is he the kind of person whose words don’t match their actions? Is he what they call a-‘

“Jurot, hurry up and bathe! We’re not waiting for you all day!” Tazwyn shouted from afar, making her rounds around the perimeter of the camp.

Jurot swiftly disrobed, dropped his equipment, and tossed himself into the stream. What was the use of thinking? The Iyrman remained within the stream for a few moments, the cold attacking whatever thoughts he had, before marching out of the stream and grabbed at his clothes, fresh of body and mind.

“Need some help?” Adam asked, raising his hand.

Jurot nodded, not wishing to take any more time.

Spell

Tricks

Adam dried Jurot off.

The trek to the village was rushed, with Eshva keeping an eye out for any dangers. There was a sense of urgency within the Iyrmen today, which hadn’t been there before. After meeting the trikro, they seemed to be plagued by something.

“How long until we get to the village?” Adam asked, trying his best to keep pace with the Iyrmen. He was glad his Constitution was so high, otherwise he would have struggled.

“Late afternoon,” Tazwyn said. “We can only hope that they had dealt with the undead well without us if they were attacked.”

Adam nodded his head in response. He had no idea about the landscape of the area, and had to trust the Iyrmen, as he had done thus far.

They travelled from the edge of the forest into the plains, which were large and expansive. As Adam glanced around, he could see just how far they stretched. Towards his right, he could see that the plains went to the horizon, and to his left, they curved around the forest.

‘We didn’t really do much in the forest,’ Adam thought. ‘Nothing interesting happened.’ His lips twitched into a frown, only to recall the two trikros, which were each powerful beasts, enough to threaten Iyrmen. ‘Oh, right.’

They marched forward through the plains quickly, the flat, solid ground allowing them to move swiftly. Adam could see another large forest in the distance, one which he couldn’t see the end to on either side.

“Just how big is that place?” Adam asked, looking back to the Iyrmen.

“The forest stretches all the way to Northfort,” Tazwyn said.

“How long is that?”

“Over six hundred miles,” the woman said.

Adam blinked. “The forest is six hundred miles long?”

“It branches out about five hundred miles along for another two hundred and fifty to the east and south.”

“That’s a big forest,” Adam said, unable to speak more critically. “Is anyone in command of the forest?”

“Many beings are,” Tazwyn said. “West Fort claims a section, and North Aldland claims the northern sections, and the tips of the fork East Aldland lays a few claims as well. Then there are the small villages and tribes, the monsters, the bandits, and many others.”

Adam slowly nodded his head, trying to imagine how anyone could lay claim to the forest which spread so long. “What of the Iyr?”

Tazwyn nodded her head. “We claim most of the forest around this area, though not what you currently see.”

“We claim the deeper part of the forest,” Jurot said. “Past the river.”

As they continued towards the forest, Adam spotted a path which led further inward. As they trekked through the edge of the forest, bones littered the floor, like a field of broken flowers.

Soon he could see a large fence, the perimeter of a village. A large number of villagers were currently moving piles of bones around, bundling them together and placing them aside. They were casually chatting between one another, as though they hadn’t been struck by a horde of undead.

‘These guys are way too happy…’ Adam said, glancing between the villagers as they worked. They each wore something made of bone, either a bracelet, a ring, or some other accessory piece. ‘I wonder how much half elf bones sell for.’

“Oh!” called a villager, waving their hand over to the Iyrmen. “Hello! Welcome, Iyrmen!”

Other villagers heard the call and turned to see the Iyrmen.

“Iyrmen!” They approached the Iyrmen quickly, coming to give their greetings and generally fussing over them.

“I see that you handled the task well,” Argon said, nodding his head. From all the bones, he surmised they had dealt with the most pressuring matter.

“Just about,” a guard said, nodding his head. He wore a thick leather cap, carried with him a shield, and a large staff. A pair of daggers remained sheathed at his waist. “Glad to see you either way. Had safe travels?”

“No,” Argon said.

The guard’s smile quickly dropped. “Oh,” he said. For a moment, panic set in, and he glanced at the Iyrmen’s attire, noting all the scruffiness. It wasn’t the typical ruggedness he expected, but a scruffiness from danger.

The Chief burst onto the scene, having heard the Iyrmen had arrived. He was a tall, portly fellow, with a large stomach, and a larger smile on his face. He wore a large feline skull at his navel, wrapped around with some kind of fibrous rope.

“Welcome!” he said, embracing each Iyrman tight. He even hugged Adam tight, the skull of the feline clattering up against the metal of his chain. “Come in, come in. You must be so tired from your journey.” He ushered them inside. “Don’t you worry about the gate fee, I won’t hear about it, just come in.”

‘These guys are on top of their gate fee game,’ Adam thought. ‘I almost forgot.’

“We apologise for being so late,” Argon said, following the cheerful Chief, whose steps were slightly fumbled as he walked. “We came across two trikro.”

The Chief froze in the middle of his step, his heel against the ground. He slowly turned, throwing a worried look over his shoulder. “What?”

“We came across two trikro,” Argon repeated, having stopped behind the Chief.

The Chief blinked, as though he was clearing out his ears. “Two… trikro? Is th-that right?”

Argon pulled out the creature’s head from his Bag of Holding, which any self respecting group of Adventurers owned.

“Oh my gods.” The Chief stared at the head, pulling back. He glanced around to see the attire of the Iyrmen, dishevelled from a terrible fight. “Where did you find them?”

“A day and a half away from here, towards Lipetal.”

“So close?” The Chief’s eyes raised in alarm. “We didn’t even realise.” None of the villagers had found tracks of the trikro so close, which would have been far worse than the horse of undead at their gates.

“We’ve dealt with it,” Argon assured. “It was a good fight.” His lips formed an Iyrman’s smile, baring a canine.

“Even though we dealt with the undead, two trikro would have been another matter.” The Chief reached for his heart, feeling how tight it tugged. “Please, come and rest.” The Iyrmen had dealt with a greater threat than he realised, and there was no way he could simply repay this favour. To think they had continued to come and assist the undead too.

The Chief couldn’t help but recall the words of his forbearer, who had always spoken about the Iyr with such great reverence.

“It’s okay,” Argon said, quickly scanning the village, noting all the workers. “We will assist your hunting and rebuilding.” He threw a glance back towards the pair. “Jurot, Adam, assist with the labour.”

Adam nodded, seeing how everyone was already hard at work, carrying bits of wood here and there, sweeping bones, and checking the stock of various items.

Argon then nodded to Tazwyn and Dargon, who remained behind to assist with the village, whilst he, Eshva and Kandal went out to hunt for something to eat.

“You’re not going to help the others?” Adam asked, dropping his pack beside where the Iyrmen had left their gear, out in the open. No one would dare steal from an Iyrman.

Tazwyn shook her head. “I’m too noisy,” she said, motioning to her plate mail.

Adam looked down to his chain mail, then shared with Tazwyn a knowing sigh.

“It’s best for two Iyrmen to remain behind,” Dargon said. “Just in case.”

“Just in case what?” Adam threw a look towards the Iyrman who had yet to finish the tale.

“Another trikro appears,” Dargon said, smiling. It wasn’t the smile of a joke, but the smile of hope, hope that he’d get to drive his greatsword deep within a trikro.

“Will another one really appear?” Adam asked, noting the smile on the Iyrman’s face. ‘These guys need to calm down…’

“Three appearing is equally as unlikely as two appearing,” Dargon said, his lips quivering into another smile.

“So that’s a maybe,” Adam said, squinting his eyes. He thought for a moment about the Experience he would gain. ‘Should I poke fun at Sozain again?’ He glanced at he villagers all around, including the young children who were trying to sweep the bones aside. ‘Nevermind.

Athletics Check

D20 + 4 = 5 (1)

Adam lifted up the lumber, but found it sliding against his armour. The journey had taken quite a toll on him, his feet throbbing with each step, having been unable to rest properly this day with how much they had rushed. He groaned, placing down the lumber, and then began doff his heavy armour.

“Are you okay?” Jurot asked, noting Adam trying to strip in the middle of the village.

“I’m fine,” Adam replied. “I just need to take off my armour to make this easier for myself.”

Jurot nodded, going back to moving the piles of wood and bones to where they were needed. He kept an eye on Adam, not to admire his glorious physique, with how his various muscles would tug and strain as he lifted the items around, but to make sure he wasn’t overexerting himself needlessly.

Once Adam had doffed his armour, he glanced around through his helmet. ‘Is it weird to keep my helmet on? I don’t want to panic anyone.’ He recalled Jurot’s previous words when they were resting at the first village before the undead horde had arrived. He sighed, taking off his helmet.

A few people nearby glanced his way, wanting to see the face of the Iyrman who was helping them, before continuing along their way. They froze, quickly snapping their heads towards Adam.

“An elf!” someone exclaimed, with the villagers around reaching for their weapons.

Shock and panic filled the nearby area, with people grabbing the nearby children, and others quickly drawing their staffs and daggers.

Adam sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I…” he began, before exclaiming, “am only half an elf!” His voice was full of annoyance. “I’m with the Iyrmen so just relax and accept my help!”

Athletics Check

D20 + 4 = 12 (8)

He marched up to a bundle of wood and lifted it up over his shoulder, before storming away to the wall which they were reinforcing and fixing. The other villagers stared at him, and soon the Chief forced his way onto the scene.

“There really is an elf,” the Chief said, gasping. “I just thought I was drunk.” He had been drinking a little to celebrate throughout the day, so his mind was slightly abuzz. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m with the Iyrmen,” Adam said, dropping the wood and massaging his shoulder. “I came here to help.”

“The Iyrmen, you say?” The Chief squinted his eyes. “How can I believe you.”

“I walked in with them, didn’t I?”

“Did you?”

“Yes.”

“You did?”

“Yes. I wore the chain mail.”

“Oh,” The Chief said. “You’re that fellow. I was wondering why you were keeping your helmet on.” The Chief nodded his head, glancing towards Adam’s weapons at his side, a longsword, and a warhammer of fine make. “Alright, well, don’t do your elfy things here. We’re good, simple folk.”

“I’ll try and channel my human side today,” Adam said, dryly, before going back to work. ‘Seriously. These guys are always complaining about elves, but what the hell did I ever do to them?’

As evening approached, the Iyrmen who had gone to hunt, returned with a boar over each shoulder, and a string of birds and small creatures around their waists, which swayed with each step. They dropped the meat at the centre of town, where the villagers had already begun the fires to cook.

“Did you really go out to slaughter a family of boars?” Adam asked, noting the six boars they had returned with.

“Yes,” Argon replied, simple.

Adam glanced at the assortment of smaller animals, before just nodding his head. “We’re eating well tonight.”

Soon the villagers gathered together, beginning to drink and dance. There was the thrum of drums, the squeals of wooden flutes, and the strumming of the only lyre.

“Undead, undead, undead. No, no, no. Dead, dead, dead.” The children clapped their hands too, with the youngest few looking around, wondering what the hell was going on, but clapping along anyway.

Adam retreated to a dark corner, where a half elf could sulk and eat in peace. Jurot planted his rump beside him, digging into his food quietly, looking about to all the villagers.

“I had expected us to fight the undead, so I’m a little disappointed.” Adam admitted. ‘If I had helped the villagers with the undead, then maybe they could have viewed we feyfolk a little brighter.’

“We missed the fight, but fighting isn’t the only goal.” Jurot slurped some of the soup.

Adam glanced at the Iyrman, blinking at him. He sipped the soup, unable to follow Jurot’s words with anything coherent. The soup was well salted, with the smallest amount of cracked pepper. There were a handful of herbs which flavoured the meat.

The other Iyrmen retreated from Chief at the centre to the dark corner where Adam and Jurot had been eating.

“We will remain for the night and make haste to the next village,” Argon said. “They may not have yet to face the undead threat.” He could feel it deep within himself.

There was something wrong.

Adam yawned, patting his stomach. “Honestly, I can’t wait to get to the Iyr. My feet hurt from all this walking through the forest, and fighting undead is fun and all, but it doesn’t inspire me. Killing something which has already lost once isn’t fun.”

“Did your feet not hurt when we were hunting boars?” Jurot asked.

“No.” Adam shook his head. “We spent a lot of time travelling on a proper road, and we got to rest at a proper place with a nice hot bath…” Adam threw his head back. ‘I wish I could summon my tower.’ His heart wept.

“You’re very soft,” Jurot said, biting into a cracker which he had saved for the day, eating it with the smallest bit of cheese had had remaining from his rations.

“Of course I am,” Adam replied back, raising his brow towards the Iyrman. “I’m a Br-,” he cleared his throat, “a half elf!”

Jurot chewed on his after meal snack, and nodded his head slowly. ‘Half elves must be like that.’ Though he couldn’t blame Adam, he wanted to return to the Iyr too. He liked the towns and villages, but nothing was like the Iyr. ‘I wonder if mother is well.’

Once they had retired for the night, Adam sleeping in the same room as Jurot for both his and the villager’s sake, he looked up at the ceiling. Everything had felt so easy recently, with the Iyrmen assisting him.

‘Hey, Bell.’

[Yes?]

‘Can you see the future?’

[No.]

‘Hmm.’ Adam remained silent for a long moment. ‘Okay.’

[…]

He refused to elaborate further, instead closing his eyes to fall asleep. For a moment, he wondered if Bell could peek into his more intimate thoughts. He hadn’t really tested out the system much. Now, in the safety of the village, he imagined something he dared not to admit, something graphic and lewd.

He waited for Bell’s response.