Day 30
I think now's a good time to write about what's been going on.
Great news right off the hook – I've finished building a wall around the entire compound. The flying bastards from those 5 days ago indeed turned out to be averse to sunlight, and burned screaming (which is what woke me up), so I was free to continue my fortification efforts.
(As a bit of a side note, as they literally turned to ash in the sky, one of them dropped some kind of…thing. A viscous, colorless and odorless membrane, surprisingly pretty elastic and not that easy to break – not that I did break it. Inventory calls it a "Phantom Membrane", so my guess is that the flying harpies' names are Phantoms.)
Instead of building high walls, I thought it better to lay a smaller foundation all around the perimeter first – that way it prevents pretty much everyone (except from spiders) from entering, and while skeletons skeletons can still shoot over, but it's the zombies and green guys that are a nuisance and a real threat respectively, so this was mostly done as a counter-measure to them.
When the night had come around then, I'd decided to test if the walls were actually worth their effort, monsters already prowling in the dark being enthusiastic participants. Good news: the walls held the tide with ease; even the smaller ones aren't climbable and can withstand mindless zombie clawing and arrow shots (and explosions too, I hope, should it come down to that).
Bad news: one of the participants got a bit too "enthusiastic": a skeleton, with a glowing bow – same kind of glow I've seen already on the armor. Jumped straight out from behind a tree, hadn't time to bring a shield up before he shot me. Normally, this wouldn't have been much of a problem – my armor can deflect or outright stop arrows pretty nicely.
The bastard's arrow went straight through. Another one followed right after.
I really hadn't expected that; perhaps, I've grown complacent? More and more I think that the first actual rule of survival in here is "expect the unexpected".
With such firepower (arrowpower) laying down on me, I had no other choice but to retreat. To give an idea on how powerful the arrows were: normally, if I catch one on a shield, very little force actually comes through. When these arrows hit, it felt like that one time Ruby decided to let me shoot her high-caliber sniper configuration.
(It's a miracle I managed to not shoot my knees off.)
Safely behind cover, I realized that going toe-to-toe would probably result in me turning into a pincushion – wasn't sure if shield could hold up to the barrage, so instead I've decided to take him on at range. The roof of my house proved a decent enough vantage point. Decent enough in a sense that it was the only one – I'd nearly fallen off a lot of times trying to dodge arrows while simultaneously putting my still meager bow-shooting skills to good use. Took some time, but he eventually went down; luckily, there weren't any other bone-buddies around to help.
Just before I managed to kill that skeleton, however, he stumbled and, instead of firing at me, shot a green guy walking carelessly in front, killing him. Now, normally when they die, they just dissolve into leaves and leave a pile of gunpowder behind. This green guy? He dropped some sort of a red-rimmed disk. It turned out to be just like one of those very old musical disks; the ones where you'd stick them in a phonograph and they would play something. Very old pre-Great War technology, basically.
In the inventory, this musical record disk was titled "Siforaityn – Blocks". Of course, without a phonograph there was no way for me to listen to whatever this melody was supposed to be; moreover, I am still not sure if this was just a unique green guy, or that unique skeleton's bow glow effect that had done the trick. Maybe this was all just a freak one-time occurrence.
In any case, I stashed it away, and, come morning, decided to go for a little fishing trip, my decision only solidified by the fact that it had started raining. For whatever reason, fish (and random junk) are more eager to get impaled on my hook if it's raining. After spending some time in my rain-proof dirt shacks, catching a few fishes (and two rather pretty-looking Nautilus Shells), I saw a smoke column in the distance to the north. Decided to check it out, since the rain had ended (and so did the fish's desire to kill themselves). It took me quite some time to reach the source – can't say for sure, but just over a kilometer, maybe? In any case, that smoke column brought me to the base of some snowy mountains.
And yet another village at their base. Rather big one at that, too. Remembering my previous experiences, I'd decided to make my presence clear beforehand. Just like before, I had pretty much the whole village gather to greet me.
Very much unlike before, one of the assholes in some green garbs started throwing rocks at me and shouting in some weird language (though, from the tone and context, it was all probably just obscenities). He wasn't the only one in that green clothing (there were 3 guys, infact); though he was the only one acting out, the others were pretty much just riling him up. It took some time (pretty sure there was a scuffle too), before the hysteric fellow was forcefully calmed down and led away. The rest of the village (Golem notwithstanding, but I heard him stomping about somewhere) had finally greeted me properly, though their reception was cold; I guess that was not because of the close proximity to the cool mountains (less mountains and more giant hills).
With that out of the way, I was free to explore the village. First and foremost, my decision was to find those green guys and try to figure out what exactly about me set them off, and apologize if needed.
Didn't quite work out. The first green-clothed guy I came across – the one that had that meltdown, actually – spat in my face (thank you reflexes for letting me dodge it) and walked away, probably cursing me in his own language all the while. Second one I found didn't go so far as to spit on me, but from the way he spoke (different language compared to the first one, but no less unintelligible) I understood that he had nothing nice to say to me. Third, and the last, one was the only one that spoke Valean/English. His response was the shortest: he simply scowled, told me to go fuck myself and walked away.
Evidently, I was guilty of something I was not aware of. Great.
Having successfully failed this first task, I went on to explore the settlement. At first there was nothing unusual about it, except for that one house that was inexplicably on top the huge hill-mountain, away from the rest, with no path leading up to it. Found the Golem too – poor thing was stuck in a hole with some flowers. Dug him a staircase, he stomped out and gave the flowers to a group of villager kids running about. Pretty wholesome.
The only real "unique" thing about this village was a church-looking building; after initial surprise turned out it was completely unremarkable. Except for what I found within: a strange-looking stand thing; the best comparison I can come up with is one of those Dust-Mix Chemistry sets: a stone base with three slots for what I'm guessing are vials, a strange glowing orange stick in the very center acting as a base for this thing, as well as what seems to be a small funnel that divides into three small pipes, each going to the place where the vials would be. The orange glowing stick periodically faintly flashed orange, seemed to be perpetually warm to the touch, and (I checked it) was actually hollowed out – some sort of similarly-colored powder placed inside.
I waited around to see if anyone actually manned this place, maybe get a few answers – alas, wasn't so lucky. Probably would have waited for a lot longer, if not for a comment from a passing-by villager, who said that waiting was useless, and after asking him why, said (side note: spoke English-dash-Valean with a really heavy accent that I was unable to pinpoint to any of the ones existing on Remnant) that one of those "lazy green nitwits" was supposed to be manning it, but vehemently refused to do so.
That had my blood boiling. These people are already living really tough lives, and to have somebody (THREE somebodies) slack off in their duties like that? It would be no better than me getting into Beacon and then putting in no effort whatsoever. I had a really strong urge to go and introduce these nitwits to my fists, but, thankfully, managed to calm down: not only would I most likely have a Golem on my ass, I didn't have the full story – maybe there was something that had happened that made them so confrontational and apathetic to their own duties?
The man must have seen my internal conflict and told me that I could take the stand with me, seeing as the "bastard rebels wouldn't be getting over themselves any time soon". I did just that. Couldn't pry it off the floor with my hands, so had to scrape it off with a pickaxe. Was about to place it into my inventory too, but life had other plans in mind: I ended up tilting it too much in my hands, which caused the strange powder within to actually seep out and drop to the floor.
And then it just started burning; I barely got away. I must have lit like half of this church on fire before I realized what was causing it and brought the stand back up (as it turned out later, the inventory name for this thing is a "Brewing Stand"; so my Dust Chemistry set comparison wasn't too far off, indeed) and thus stopped the strange powder from spilling out. Not only did it seem to ignite upon contact with air, it lit cobblestone (of which most of this building was made) on fire. Thankfully, fire, no matter what, isn't too eager to spread onto things that cannot really ignite; and this particular one seemed to snuff itself out very quickly. Still, if that place had been made out of anything other than stone, I would have probably burned along with it.
The same heavily accented man was the one (only one) to greet me as I left the building, and, well…his disapproving stare had told me enough. I'd come to the village already being disliked, made it worse and was probably only getting started. So, with that thought in mind, I asked the only real thing that could possibly let me get into their good graces; I offered my help, free of charge. I'd have offered it for free, regardless, but in that moment appearing good like that ultimately ended up being the right thing to do.
And so I did help. Admittedly, it wasn't too much: I have simply helped two farmers this place had (both middle aged women) collect and re-plant crops and found a pack of lost kids (same ones with the flowers). That, along with that golem helping act I did earlier, was enough to help me convince folks that I was better than whatever image of me they may have had in their heads beforehand.
I was even approached by that accent man – this time decked out in some sort of fatigues, apron and a welding mask – who asked me for assistance as well. Bringing me into some kind of a miniature forge house, he gave me some materials and asked to build him a new furnace for working with iron. Given the fact that the materials he had provided were enough to build a decent-quality blast furnace, how could I refuse?
After I was done, he immediately set to work. It's one thing to stumble your way through the process of forging armor; it's a different one to watch a professional be working on it.
The man turned out to be an armorer.
Looking back, it's really strange, that, despite having an armorer, nobody in the village seemed to wear any.
The man worked non-stop for what seemed like hours, producing pants and chestplates and hanging them on numerous wood-stick stands he had inside and outside his little corner; all the while I was content with watching him work, maybe try and pick up a few tricks myself. Took a while before he actually noticed me and I made my intentions clean.
He said he could help me, for a price of course, looking down at my chestplate all the while. I looked down as well – and saw exactly what he was looking for: three huge, ugly holes from those damn arrows. He then subtly nodded in the direction of one of the armor stands, and I got the idea.
I won't lie, this new piece sits on my shoulders and feels much better than my own (which was happily tossed by the smith into the furnace for smelting) ever had. Even if the price had been a little steep.
Back on topic, the armorer got back to work instantly; except this time, he talked. A LOT. He explained every single thing: from how hot the furnace should be at the very beginning to how to properly maintain every kind of armor whenever, wherever. Not all of his talking was straight on point; this man was even more keen on going off on nonsensical tangents than prof. Port. And that's saying something; I'm not sure how exactly talking to a furnace can accomplish anything, but whatever. Point is, once I started reading between the lines where appropriate, there were quite a few valuable lessons in his speech; ultimately, these lessons turned out to be of the same kind that I had gotten from the weaponsmith a few weeks back: how to craft armor more efficiently (he seemed to be very well aware of the existence of diamond armor and told me to "upgrade" as soon as I could), how to repair it, maintain it – those kinds of things, in a nutshell.
(I asked him about the weird glow effect I've seen on some armor the monsters were wearing, as well as on that bow that had given me trouble – he said that those were magical enchantments that basically worked in various ways to enhance whatever they were applied to, but knew nothing more beyond that and advised me to find a priest/librarian elsewhere to bug with this question. That reminded me that I still haven't helped that one man with his lectern problem. I needed to ask him what's needed directly.)
Just as I was about to leave, the man actually thanked me, for "stopping to help, where the others would have gone past". It may have been just a figure of speech, but, piecing all the details together I can deduce that, perhaps, I might not be the only traveler around here. Would be great to make contact with them, and cooperate if possible – two heads and sets of arms are better than one.
After all of that, I made a move to keep going north; however, found nothing besides endless expanse of forest, and, with the sun setting, decided to go back. Moreover, the terrain around there was not exactly very rich in recognizable landmarks, so getting lost was a very real opportunity for me. I went back to my base. On my way back I noticed that the smoke column, which had originally alerted me to this vilage's existence, was actually a campfire placed atop a hay bale. Campfires seem to burn endlessly once lit – not even rain is an issue; and the hay bale did not seem to start burning away in the slightest. Despite all that, they worked together to form a sort of higher-burning signal campfire. I happily borrowed this idea once I got back – now my place can be spotted from very far away; great both for me, and for any of these hypothetical "others", whom I'd be happy to help.
Next day was all routine stuff: wake up, collect harvest and make a few trading runs between the two closest villages. I'm sort of a familiar face right now, and, with how much I've been trading, people have warmed up considerably; some have even expanded their stock. The weapons craftsman, for example, sought to buy iron ingots; considering how much iron I have lying around, I can make us both really happy. In a similar fashion, the farmer lady asked me if I had any melons for sale (which all but confirms their existence here, I'll be on a lookout), as well as sold some sort of a new dish – a bowl of some sort of a stew-like food (looked like brown porridge with hints of yellow leaves). She told me that these were stewed mushrooms, with a secret, "suspicious" ingredient. Wouldn't tell me what it was, just asked that I taste it first – no point in telling me if it turned out to be garbage.
It turned out to be the opposite. Very much the opposite. The taste straight up killed me and sent me to Paradise; not only that, but I felt as if my Aura had been activated again. Twice. I remember one time when Bleu was caught trying out some Earth Dust drug (and got a very strict lesson from the whole family once she was sober, present company included). While I may never try drugs (Arc's word Dad forced us all to promise after that day), I imagine the feeling could be something like this. When I came back from this food-induced trip, I asked her what in the heck was that stew. She simply said she grinded some dandelion leaves into fine pieces and added them.
How could something so simple taste so good?
I asked her if the dandelions were unironically some sort of a drug; she just smiled, took one out of her satchel and told me to try it if I was convinced. Well, she turned out to be correct – by itself, it tasted like a flower. Only when it's combined with mushrooms like that, the woman explained, that some sort of (chemical maybe) reaction happens that gives the stew such properties. And it's not limited to just dandelions – pretty much all of the flowers are supposed to share this property. Per my request, she also gave me a brief cooking guide to making a mushroom stew (something outside of my expertise). Again, very simple: all I need are brown and red mushrooms, one of each (she advised against eating them as is); then I just turn them into mushy paste, drop them in a bowl, add a grinded flower if I so desire, then a little hot water and that's it! Actually, water isn't even necessary, though it should make it better.
If it's not a drug and is so simple to make, what's the problem?
Well, turned out that this particular dish cannot stack in my inventory, unlike pretty much everything else. If I try to stick both in a single "slot", one just repulses away - it's the same deal as with trying to stack armor and tools. Unfortunate. However, should the mushrooms themselves stack (the dandelions do), I can work around that.
After that, figuratively high on energy from the soup, I made to check on the other village. First of all, I found and spoke to the librarian about this whole "enchantment" business. His answer was much the same as the armorsmith's; however, he also said that he could be of bigger assistance if he were to have his lectern. Having no idea how to build one, I finally asked him for any tips, any sort of hint on how one should properly look. His only advice was to find (or create) a blank book, and the rest "would be simple".
Couldn't this have been simple from the start?
After that, I'd stopped by the butcher kid, who, apparently had a batch of fresh animal meat, but was all out of fuel. Didn't have any myself, unfortunately; fortunately, there was a cave entrance just outside of village. Incredibly massive and treacherous cave; even with torches, I had a decently hard time finding my way around and out of there. Of course, all of that came with perks as well - MASSIVE deposits of coal and iron. So massive, infact, that my shiny iron pick had cracked and fell apart from all the digging - and I bet I hadn't even checked out a third of this cave system. A few stacks of coal and iron ore richer, I slowly made my way out and into the village. Wish it had been the end of that.
Too bad I climbed out during midnight. And full moon too. Made my way back up to the village - and it's a good thing I was in such haste.
There were a lot of zombie groans coming from the forest. And a lot of zombies shambling towards us all. Shit, some of these freaks were already trying to break down doors! All of this reminded me of those cheap horror Grimm-zombie flicks I'd seen in my childhood - especially those rare scenes, where somebody got infected and made a mad last stand against a wave of undead. This was much the same situation - except I had no intention of making it my last stand.
So I rushed in, sword first. First, I made sure to kill those who were banging on the doors - I could already hear cries and screams - not of pain and death, fortunately, but of fear. A few doors were broken down - those I temporarily blocked off with some cobble; don't think the poor fellows inside would protest being locked in too much. After making sure that everyone was secure and there was no lasting damage to anyone/anything, I went and met the impending zombie horde head on.
It was a battle - I killed and killed non-stop, did my best to avoid damage where I could, but the thick leaves and trees all over made it difficult, so I took more hits that I really care to admit. Honestly, without this 'shroom stew to pick me up when I'd gotten really tired from all the fight and regenerative healing, as well as accidentally dumping my water bucket and discovering that zombies have a really hard time moving against water currents, I might not have made it out - there were just so many of them, not counting for the other freaks that wanted to join in on the fun.
But I pulled myself (and everyone) through. All's well that ends well, right?
The fighting hadn't ceased up until sunrise; only then did things calm down and I could finally catch my breath. Then I saw people coming out (as well as a few pairs of folks I had barricaded in their houses shouting for me to let them out). Which I did. As I was moving towards them, I saw others come out and immediately get to work - some were dragging out of the twice-dead I'd left behind, some have been trying to fix their own houses. Everyone was busy and, I noticed, everyone was happy. They were cheering at me, thanking me for the help.
Though I may not be one any longer, in that very moment I felt like a true Huntsman, a hero. One who saves others, pushing back the ties of darkness. Come to think of it, what I had done that night wasn't that different from what a Huntsman might do in a frontier village during a Grimm incursion.
On Remnant, I could have been a full-fledged Huntsman. In here, while the name doesn't fit anymore, the core principle - defend and protect those who cannot do it themselves - stays much the same. I wanted to be a hero. As far as I'm concerned, I'd taken my first step in that direction, and I intend to keep walking. Arcs are to be heroes, no matter the place, no matter the time.
Having survived such a calamity, people obviously wanted to ride the train of happiness and relief for as long as possible; as such, I was approached by the butcher once again, who downright implored me to sell him coal - else he wouldn't be able to cook, and his idea of a "grand" feast would die at birth. I was ready to give it away for free, but he vehemently insisted to pay for it. Oh well. Atleast I sold him enough coal to last a good month or so. And, well, once he started cooking, I understood why exactly he needed fuel so much - there was a lot of raw meat on his hands - probably enough to have a lot of left-overs even after the village-wide picnic. As a thanks for saving the village, he gave me a sack filled with eight (!) fat cooked chicken breasts (for free), and, seeing how much raw chicken he had, offered even more for just one emerald. A great deal, all things considered, and one I'll be sure to take him up on in the future.
Was about to make my way out when I ran into the local farmer as well, who urged me to join the celebrations. Seeing as I already had this diary in hand and just wanted to find some quiet and solitude to get my thoughts in order and write them here, I politely declined. He just nodded in understanding, and instead, gave me his own gift - a batch of cookies.
Not just any cookies, though.
Chocolate freaking chip. Wow. I don't know how the guy managed to get chocolate in the middle of a taiga, but screw it. Sure, it may not have been the most refined, and did have some bitterness in it's taste, but chocolate is chocolate.
So here I am now, sitting on a hill just above the village, observing their small festival, writing and eating choco-chip cookies.
And when I think of that kind of cookies, there's only a single thing that I associate them with: Ruby.
Ruby. My bestie. My fellow team leader. Fellow socially-awkward dork. Fellow lover of X-ray and Vav. If there was anyone I'd have here with me, besides my team, it'd be you, certainly.
I hope you're doing okay, Rubes, after all that's happened. Gods know I really wouldn't handle it well if you had died instead. I can only hope you found strength to move on quickly.
I hope others did too - talking about my own team, mostly; I don't expect the rest of RWBY, or CRDL or CFVY (was their name I think) to care all that much - I had probably (definitely in case of CRDL) been a pathetic fuck-up in their eyes, after all; in my own eyes as well.
After today? Not anymore.
P.S: The librarian found me and said that while he was thankful for my help, the attack was partially my own fault. And of fucking course he refused to elaborate on that, borderline sprinting away once I started getting up to question him. I don't know what it is, but this kind of shady secrecy is kind getting on my nerves, especially with such heavy topics.
Worth the wait, I hope. Be sure to tell me what you think in the reviews.
