Chương 2: Arrival

Elias did as he'd been told, marching onward through the wilderness. But the wilderness itself was not quite as it had been before. The path that wound through the jungle had changed, for one. It was narrower and more treacherous. The gloom that surrounded it was darker, more foreboding and complete. The animal sounds had changed and became alien, the trees taller and more ancient. There was a certain electricity in the air. A smell almost like ozone before a lighting storm.

He tried not to think about it all too much. At least, not for the moment. There were times in life, and apparently in death, that really did simply call for putting one foot in front of the other. This seemed to be one of them. It wasn't long before the violet sun set and he found himself in almost utter darkness. Some great beasts seemed to chortle at him from behind the massive trunks of trees, and he debated whether he should stop for the night. If he kept going, surely he would lose the path in the dark.

And if he stopped, some rest might do him a world of good. That is, if the creatures making those sounds left him be. Perhaps he could climb one of these trees or fashion a makeshift shelter. Suddenly, he noticed just the faintest glow off in the distance. A kind of twinkling in the night, like someone had lit the candles on a birthday cake. He stood there for a moment, weighing his options.

Elias possessed what many had called an analytical type mind, and he liked to talk to himself sometimes when making tough decisions.

"The giant mushroom did say to keep going, though he didn't say where." He scratched his chin.

"Head into the light, right? Isn't that the first thing they tell you about being dead?" The buzzing of the jungle was the only reply.

"Knowing my luck, those lights are some kind of elysian swamp monster, luring me in with its bio-luminescence. Like the prey of the anglerfish, I'll probably end up devoured." He heard more animal sounds. Some at a great distance. Some quite close.

"On the other hand, if I do choose to stop and sleep here, I suppose I'm just as likely to be eaten. Who knows what lurks." In the end, the desire for whatever lay ahead was too great, and he proceeded towards the lights as best he could, stumbling over roots and pushing his way through canebrakes. Until, at last, he came to a village. The appearance of a village in the middle of this alien jungle was beyond weird. But it was also quite like a gift.

Like opening the brand new bicycle on Christmas day, the one you really wanted. He could smell it. The smell of people cooking meat. The hint of barley on the wind. Then he could hear it, too! Laughter and conversation and shouting! If these people were the dead, they surely didn't seem too put out about it. As he got closer, it rose out of the dim haze of jungle. The place was a small hamlet, but well defended—ringed by a stone wall that was twice as tall as he was.

That wall had torches placed at fifty foot intervals, which explained the twinkling glow he had spotted through the gloom. The wall also had very thick vines growing up it. Vines that looked more than capable of crumbling the stonework given enough time and leeway.

"Interesting," he said, inspecting the vine. It was not any species he was familiar with, and a part of him ached to spend a moment trying to classify it. But every moment spent outside this wall, away from the laughter and the cooking smell, seemed like a moment spent in foolishness. So, he followed the wall for a long time, hoping to get inside it. But it just … kept going. And he was feeling almost hopeless.

Here was the only sign of humanity in a vast and threatening post-death wilderness, and it seemed there might be no way for him to get inside. But finally, he came to a gate. Standing in front of it was a man clad in leather armor and holding a great spear at the ready.

"State your business!" the guard demanded, with no small amount of aggression in his voice.

"Umm … something about a trial, I think? There was this mushroom who made dad jokes and, uhh …" The spear lowered.

"Class?"

"I don't know … upper middle class, I guess? We had a two car garage growing up, but things got tough later on and there were a lot of SPAM sandwiches there towards the end." The guard, much to Elias' surprise, smiled and laughed.

"SPAM sandwiches he says! You are fresh, eh? And you're lost and harmless as as lummlet, ain't you? Well, head in, scrub," said the guard, moving to one side. Elias didn't need to be told twice, he went through the gate in a hurry, before the man could change his mind. He found himself in a hardscrabble little village that seemed to have been constructed with a mix of jungle rocks, bamboo, and hope. But it was not without its charm, particularly after you'd been tromping for days through the wilderness.

Although he didn't spot any people just then, the signs of civilization were everywhere. There were clusters of buildings leaned up against the stone wall, a town square with sleeping market carts, and what looked like some kind of stone grain silo.

"No seven eleven, I suppose?" he whispered to himself. What caught his eye the most, however, was a sign that was dangling from one of the buildings nearest the gate. That, and the laughter and good cheer that seemed to echo out from the place. Flaming Sword Tavern. That was where all the joy and conversation was coming from. It occurred to him that, as he hadn't exactly been expecting to find a vending machine here in the heart of darkness, he hadn't brought along any coin with him to the afterlife.

Absently, he reached a hand into his pocket, only to experience something jarring and sudden. It was what could best be described as some kind of bizarre sensory hallucination. # Equipment: Worn Satchel, Engraved Pestle Inventory: None Currency: 0 # As a mysterious voice spoke the words, the text itself also appeared in his field of vision, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. But he was far too thirsty and tired to question the nature of this strange experience, at least for the moment.

He decided he would go into the tavern anyway and offer to wash the dishes, sweep the floor, anything if he could just have an icy cold libation in his hands. Maybe even a bite to eat.

"But please, hold the mushrooms," he whispered. That much he was sure of. He went into the pub to find a scene altogether more lively than the empty streets of the town might have suggested. Here were dozens of people all drinking, laughing, and clinking together giant horns of drink like Elias had seen in one of his favorite viking movies. He was elated. At least, at first. Because as he entered, the scene went from viking saga to spaghetti western rather quickly.

That is to say, the fiddle player who had been sawing from the corner stopped making his sweet music. The barman stopped pouring mid pour. The laugher was cut short and many heads turned to regard him with stern and somewhat unfriendly eyes. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

"Don't mind me," he said. Elias had so many questions, but he was more interested in the promise of food and drink than in making friends, at least for the moment. He did his best to curtly nod to the group of men, all of them in white tabards and chainmail, who regarded him with eerie aggression from a table in the corner. Just one foot in front of the other, he reminded himself.

Elias soon found an empty stool, and it seemed for a second like the patrons of the bar had returned to their merrymaking, content to ignore him for the moment. Which was exactly what he was hoping they'd do. Behind the bar, an old man with a white beard was filling horns from a metal tap. The two of them met eyes, and Elias was reassured to find that there seemed to be nothing but a kind warmth in the man's gaze. Perhaps, even a bit of curiosity as well.

"What'll it be stranger?" he asked, ambling up to Elias and wiping the bartop with a soiled scrap of burlap.

"Well, to be frank with you friend, I seem to be sort of short on any money at the moment. This is going to sound a little weird, but I think I actually just … well, died."

"Ahh, well," said the friendly barkeep, "a new arrival. In that case, this first one is on the house. But you'll want to get started earning some coin. What class are you, by the way?"

"People keep asking me that. I don't really know what that means. I was class of '08 at university. Does that mean anything? I studied Biology, Botany, some Organic Chem but—""Wow, you are fresh aren't you," interrupted the barkeep, passing Elias a giant horn of drink. Elias took the first sip and every fabric of his being rejoiced. It was one of the most delicious beers he had ever tasted. It was rich like an IPA, but without the bitter aftertaste. Aromatic, like a sour, but without the overwhelming fruitiness.

Just refreshing and light and potent all at once. And he didn't mind the kick it had either, not after what he'd just been through.

"Ahh," Elias said, to show his appreciation. He spent a moment wiping his lips with the back of his sleeve.

"Thank you so much for this. Now … you were saying something about a class?"

"This here is one of those slime-covered wolf lovers. He has the stink of the forest about him," said a gruff voice, somewhere behind him. Elias turned around to see the largest, most hulking individual in the entire bar. It was one of the men from the corner with the white tabards and chainmail. Only, now that he'd stood up, Elias noticed that he towered almost to the rafters of the tavern.

He had a strong chin covered in stubble and a scar through his right eye that had left it milky and void like one sees on a dead fish.

"Excuse me, friend," said Elias, turning his attention back to his drink while keeping an eye on the man, who seemed aggressive and perhaps a bit drunk.

"But I don't know what you mean by that. And I only stink of the forest because, well, that is where I've been for days. And there weren't exactly any motels to stop in and freshen up." The giant hammered down on the bar with a closed fist, and it felt to Elias as if the whole room shook. He tensed his body, ready to fight. Perhaps this was the trial that the giant mushroom had mentioned. Nothing more than a drunken bully in a bar. So far as grand final judgements went, he supposed this was as good as any.

Elias stood up off his stool and turned to face the man, whose fist was now between them on the bar.

"Do this," said the giant. As he said it, the man turned his huge hand palm upwards and made an opening gesture. Like one would pantomime reading a book, perhaps. Elias wasn't sure what kind of trick this might be, but he'd encountered enough bullies to know that whatever this game, it would likely be unwise to gullibly play along. But as he was just about to refuse, Elias happened to catch a glance from the bartender, who mimicked the giant's gesture. Palm opening like a book.

"Try it," said the bartender. It seemed like everyone and their mother had sauntered over to watch, too. So, Elias tried it, not taking his eyes off of the slab of muscle towering over him. As soon as he opened his palm, the same voice that he'd heard before filled his ears, and more text flashed across his field of vision. # Elias Thorne Level 3 Alchemist Level 1 Druid HP: 75/75 Mana: 50/50 Equipment: Worn Satchel, Engraved Pestle Inventory: None Druid Class Skills: Regeneration I.

Alchemist Class Skills: Foraging I. Plant Identification I. Potion Brewing I. Reputation: Worm # He rubbed his eyes, feeling like it was all some kind of a bad trip. Maybe he had eaten a man-sized mushroom, instead of merely chatting with one. But both the giant and the barkeep were looking at Elias expectantly. So, he recited the first two lines.

"I'm some kind of an alchemist … and a druid, apparently" he said.

"Ha!" the large man laughed.

"I told you. He is one of those vine sniffers. And a wolf-diddler on top of it. You owe me a horn, barman." The barkeep's eyebrows bounced and he shook his head as if it was all very unexpected and somewhat upsetting. He suddenly found some pressing work at the opposite end of the bar.

"I assure you that I'm not here to sniff vines or … do anything un-natural with wolves. In fact, I'm not sure why any of this is funny," Elias said to the giant. He tried to put a hard edge to his voice. The kind that might make a bully consider whether the juice was worth the squeeze.

"Now if you don't mind, I've had a very long day and I'd like to enjoy my drink." But the giant wasn't done.

"Sad more than funny, really. Vine sniffers never make it very far around here. You might be surprised to hear that a jungle is a very inhospitable place to go around poking your nose into mushrooms and taste testing the moss that grows on a stone. And a druid? When did loving nature ever solve any problems? What were you, some kind of a tree hugger activist or something in life?

Let me guess, you chained yourself to a redwood to try and save an indigenous village or some shit, and they ran right over you with the bulldozer. Serves you right."

"I …" he said. Somehow, he was finding it a bit hard to remember the details of his life before this strange death.

"I was searching for something. A cure. I was … some kind of researcher of medicines derived from rare ingredients." Elias said it as much to himself as to the giant bully. The giant was nodding, all of his buddies had gathered around now and were leering at Elias. What was a good session of bullying without an bunch of backup dancers, after all? But Elias could sniff an opportunity here as well.

"And where did that mushroom hunt get you?" asked the giant. And though the question was clearly rhetorical bait, Elias gave it a moment of serious thought.

"Well … I suppose it got me here, since you asked. I'm supposed to be engaging in some kind of a trial," Elias said. Then, he cleared his throat, standing up as tall as he was able, though he barely reached the Giant's clavicle.

"Yeah, a trial," he continued, raising his voice.

"And now I'm standing here and wondering is this it? Is this big … jackass standing in front of me supposed to be the test? Because, if so, I'm not very impressed." The big man's face scrunched into a mask of outrage and he scoffed so loudly that everyone in the bar, from barkeep to drunkard, was now fixated on the little unfolding scene.

"Well, I wasn't going to waste my time slicing through you like butter," said the giant.

"I figured you were going to wither away anyway. Alchemy isn't in demand these days, and we don't much care for druids, either. This is fireknight territory." Elias spent a moment looking more closely at the man. He did have a scabbard with what looked like a very serious sword on his belt. The scabbard had red stitches that looked like decorative flames curling up it.

Also, his white tabard seemed to have a few soot stains running across it, like a drunken uncle who'd been working the grill at a kid's birthday party.

"Point being," continued the giant.

"You aren't going to survive here long enough for me to even bother learning your name. And so, I would wish you a pleasant journey. But, I believe you just insulted me. Jackass, was it?" Elias hesitated, but then he remembered how many eyes were on him, how many ears there were listening intently.

"Big jackass," Elias said again loudly as he straightened and stretched his backbone so that he was at least eye level at the giant's Adam's apple. The giant looked over his shoulder.

"What do you say, fellow knights. Should we teach this vine sniffer a nice lesson? Send him to a lower plane of existence?" The men seemed to be in unanimous agreement. They laughed and nodded and called for blood.

"Coming back as some kind of potion mixing druid is bad enough," said the giant, drawing his sword from the scabbard. As he did, the gruesome blade actually burst into flame. Long, hot flames that Elias could already feel singeing the hairs on his forearms.

"But when you die here, you'll come back as something even worse. I'm thinking you'd make a nice wood grub. Maybe you could even be a toadstool growing out of a stinking pile of Blightmaw droppings. Or … depending on if you are elaborating your heroic mushroom expedition or not … maybe even a lummlet." The flaming sword was getting closer. Elias watched the giant's eyes as they caught the flicker of the burning weapon. But what he saw there was not murder.

While the gentleman was certainly dangerous, and an awfully sincere bully, Elias got the impression that he was bluffing. That it was all a bit of showmanship. At least, that was the great hope. All he could do now was put the theory to the test. Theorize. Test. Hope the results didn't kill you. In such a way he'd lived his life. Perhaps his afterlife would be the same. Thinking quickly, Elias raised his horn of drink towards the giant. A look of confusion flashed across the bully's face.

The tension in the air, the heat of the sword, the breathless silence of the onlookers—all of it made it clear what he had to do next.

"A toast," Elias said, turning to the other patrons of the bar, every one of which had their eyes fixed on this unfolding drama.

"To our fine friend here. He seems to really have my number." As he said it, he took a last drink of the beer. Then, though he hated to do it, he poured the rest right on top of the sword. The flame extinguished with a hiss. Everyone watching burst into laughter, all of the tension dissolving in an instant. The fiddle player struck up a new tune, and the bartender went back to taking orders. # Your reputation in Cinderleaf has increased! #