Esmie the Calamity Chapter 11 (Patreon)

** Holy shit, I've been so freaking sick. It's been the worst, because I've really really wanted to write! I have so many fun ideas for this story. My plan right now is to keep it as an exclusive to patreon until a site I've been looking at gets up and running properly. Then I'll post it over there too.

This story is also going to be a little different in terms of plot progression and what have you. What I mean by that, is that I'm going to meander and fluff around having fun without really having a proper goal in mind. Like one of those manga that only had a plan for like 4 chapters and then it turns into some silly slice of life thing with shenanigans abound and whatever. Just fun stuff, nothing serious, gender feels, gay, jokes, gay jokes... (That's me, I'm the gay joke) all that stuff.**

Our trip to the farm went well, and we turned the quest in for a nice little bump in experience. I didn’t quite reach level three, but it was a near thing. The next little errand would certainly do it.

I wasn’t keen to rush off and do that right then though, because Lynlyn had mentioned something on our way back. Crafting was very very in-depth in this game, along with being very intuitive, and fun. That sounded perfect to me, considering combat wasn’t my thing. Then, she’d told me that you could buy starter skill books in the market. Except, they weren’t just eat-em and forget like other games, they actually explained how to get started! Exciting!

So yeah, Lynlyn went to do her thing after we turned the quest in, while I hopped off to the market. It was later in the day by the time I got there, with some stalls already packing up for the day.

Skill books were apparently something you could get as drops from some humanoid enemies, so I figured I might try to find a player who was trying to sell them. They would probably sell them at a cheaper price than the NPCs.

Of course, I actually had no idea how to go about buying something, because I was just a washed out high school grad bumming around on basic. Did I just like, find someone selling books and hope they had what I wanted?

The market stalls all used those odd bent planks of wood that everything was made of, along with canvas for roofing and walls where needed. It was like the whole city had been built out of timber yoinked from a ship's hull.

As I was wandering the makeshift streets of the market, I realised that I was never going to be able to find what I wanted on my own. Like, this place was a maze, and half the stalls didn’t even have freakin’ signs. How the hell anyone was meant to navigate this place, I don’t know. Maybe it was like how supermarkets are laid out to make you wander around aimlessly and in confusion so you buy more stuff. That was probably it.

“Hey, you look lost,” a gentle masculine voice said, giving me a wee little startle.

Turning to see who had spoken, I found myself looking up into the smiling face of another player. At least, I assumed he was another player. He was tall and a little lanky, with messy brown hair and moderately sized elf ears. He wore a set of silver-edged black wizard’s robes over the top of some more serviceable breeches, shirt, and vest.

“I am,” I grinned, trying really hard not to blush. “I’m trying to find crafting skill books for beginners but this place is a bloody mess.”

“It can be, yeah,” he laughed, glancing around at the afternoon hustle and bustle of the market. “You want the scribe’s section. It’s in the northwest corner.”

I blinked up at him for several long seconds before I asked, “Uh… which way is north?”

Giving me a wry smile, he suggested, “Why don’t I just show you, eh? I have time.”

“Oh! Yes!” I said, hopping up and down on the spot. “That would be amazing!”

His face went slack as his eyes tracked my bouncing, which was understandable. There was a lot of squish to look at after all. He averted his eyes after a few seconds though, glancing around in about seven different directions, and it took me a moment to realise that he was embarrassed. Wait, had he been looking at squish going all boing boing like… like that?

“Thank you!” I smiled, doing my best to pretend I hadn’t seen where his eyes had been. I couldn’t blame him, there was a lot of squish to look at.

Clearing his throat, he nodded and motioned that I should follow him. “I assume that you’re new to the game? Because you’re looking for skill books, I mean. Not because you seem… you know, like a noob.”

“I'm definitely a noob,” I giggled, my short legs struggling to keep up with his long stride. “I just joined the game yesterday. At least, I think it was yesterday.”

“Oh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “What prompted you to begin playing now? The game has been out for a while, after all.”

“My friend,” I said with a shrug. “I’m not really the kind of person who normally plays these games, but she wanted someone to play with her so, yeah… here I am!”

“Ah, that makes sense,” he said, nodding. “You don’t seem like the type of girl to get into CORA.”

“The type of… girl?” I mumbled, staring sideways up at him. I’d blanked on my current appearance for a moment and was just now realising that this was the first extended interaction I’d had with a stranger who didn’t know. Apart from Ruth, but that didn’t count.

His eyes blew wide. “I mean, shit… sorry, I guess I was stereotyping there. CORA is just a pretty intense game and… well it’s not for everyone. Especially… you know… fuck, I’m going to shut up now.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” I said shyly, still unsure of how to navigate this conversation. “First time I died the game yanked me into the death dream before the blow even landed. That’s why I want crafting skill books.”

“That makes sense,” he nodded, gazing carefully ahead of us. His cheeks were all red from embarrassment and mine probably were too. That had been a very awkward conversation.

As we had been talking, we’d walked into an area that looked to be what I had been looking for. The stalls here all had crafting related stuff, from raw materials to tools and everything else that you’d expect to be involved in the process of creating stuff.

“My friend and I are going to open a shop and sell the stuff we make,” I told the helpful stranger. “Well, I am. I think she plans to run the business side of things while I make all the stuff.”

“Oh, life skillers,” he said amicably. When he saw my questioning look, he smiled apologetically and explained, “Life skillers are people who do stuff that isn’t directly combat related. So crafting or running stores or whatever. Some folks look down on life skillers, but I’m not one of them.”

“Well, if you point any of those snobs out to me, I’ll remember not to sell them any of my super duper amazing stuff that’s the best you can get anywhere,” I said, flicking my hair to the side while throwing my nose in the air. Then, because I love laughing at my own jokes, I dissolved into a fit of giggles.

He joined me in my laughter, although he was a guy so he was all like ha ha ha, as opposed to he he he. Wait… no, we were both guys, but I was just… no that didn’t make sense either. I definitely didn’t have guy parts right then and he was looking at me in a very specific way.

Weirdly enough… I didn’t hate the fact that he was checking me out from the corner of his eye. It made me feel all bubbly and fizzy inside and I was having a hard time understanding why. It wasn’t attraction on my part, he was just a guy to my eyes. Yet for some reason I found myself smiling and bouncing along beside him like I was a schoolgirl on her first date with her crush. Maybe it was just the idea that I was making a friend. It had been a very long time since I met new people my own age.

My new friend slowed to a stop beside the strangest looking wagon I’d ever seen. It took me a moment to realise that it wasn’t really a wagon at all, but some sort of steampunk mech thing. It looked like it got around on a set of six stubby metal legs, while the wagon on top would stay upright at all times. The back of the wagon was set up to fold out into a stall.

I didn’t see the owner of the stall at first, because he was just as short as I was, except like twice as wide. The stocky dwarf caught sight of my friend and gave him a broad grin, “Fletcher! Mate, how’re you doing?”

I stared at the dwarf for like a full five seconds before I burst out laughing. “Oh my god, is that an Aussie accent? On a dwarf?”

“Oh bollocks, a Kiwi,” the dwarf muttered, narrowing his eyes at me. “Fletcher, mate. What are you doing associating with the likes of that wretch?”

“How’s that Tasman Trophy going for you?” I asked, giving him my most unapologetic shit eating grin.

“Fuck off!” he growled, pointing a hairy, stubby finger at me. “Don’t make me jump this desk, young lady. I’ll fuckin’ smack you.”

“Bring it, fuzzface,” I said, puffing up my chest. The action wasn’t as intimidating as I’d hoped, because of the fact that I had boobs.

Beside me, Fletcher was looking more anxious and confused by the second, until both the Australian dwarf and I burst into laughter.

“I’m so confused,” my new friend said, glancing between us with brows furrowed.

“Don’t worry, my boy,” the dwarf chuckled. “It’s only natural to be confused when you witness the sacred ritual of an Australian and a New Zealander meeting for the first time. Nothing to be ashamed of. Now are you going to introduce me to the fine young lady or just stand there catching flies with ya gob open?”

“O-oh, yeah…” Fletcher nodded, cheeks reddening. “Uh… except I don’t know her name.”

I laughed and on a whim, threw him a friend invite while I said out loud, “I’m Esmie! I’m half bunny, half red panda, all squish.”

Fletcher appeared pretty happy to accept the request, then gave me a big smile. “And I’m Fletcher. Which, yeah, you know that already. This dwarf is Kevin. He usually roams all over this region but he’s settled down here for now. He always has fair prices and usually has a good stock too.”

“You can call me Kev’O, though,” the dwarf said with a wink in my direction. “What are you looking for?”

“Books!” I exclaimed brightly. I was having fun, making new friends and bantering and all that stuff! Now I just needed to make sure the filthy aussie didn’t fleece me like the Kiwi sheep I was.