Fractured World 007 (Patreon)

Dal rolled his shoulders and began stretching. It was still early, perhaps half an hour before sunrise, but he felt completely rested and awake. That was the wonders of upgrading to Regeneration 2. Is this how Samira felt every morning, clear eyed and ready to go?

He exited his tiny room and saw that Samira had already beaten him to the coffee machine. It was their biggest electrical expenditure in the morning. The solar panels were barely enough to charge their phones, walkie talkies, and other equipment, even though they had plenty of batteries to store power.

“Good day, young man. Here on the farm, we rise before the sun even thinks of getting up.” Samira said in the voice of an old woman.

“High Mother,” Dal replied in greeting.

“Fuck off then. No coffee for you.”

“Oh, come on. There’s mean and then there’s inhumane.”

“It’ll be a good day,” Samira said, pouring his coffee into a travel mug. Dal accepted it and followed her out into the front office.

The small store set up was still the same, they picked out a bag of cookies each and then headed toward the freight elevator and two smaller elevators. Around a slight bend where some double doors that lead into the rear storage area of the warehouse. They had set up a sort of kitchen by the garage door, with the trio having settled into one storage unit.

The K’thari were an odd bunch. Very communal was the word that would describe them. They all preferred to sleep together and even though they disagreed with one another, they never went anywhere alone. Garran was different, he seemed more independent minded and didn’t fear doing things by himself. F’darr and Lokkan didn’t like one another, but even they stayed close together when Garran wasn’t around.

Garran was sitting on a stool, the human made chairs didn’t fit his form very well. Especially with the small stub tail that the K’thari had.

“Good morning, Garran,” Samira said cheerfully.

“Good… morning, High Mother,” Garran said with some hesitation. “Good morning, trader Dal.”

“‘Sup, buddy,” Dal said with a smile. Samira rolled her eyes at him.

“I’ll be joining you on your outing,” Samira said.

Garran brightened up at that. Like a little puppy hearing a treat bag opening. “That is excellent news, High Mother.”

“I need to stretch my legs and see this world with my own eyes.”

“And you Trader Dal?”

“Nah, I’ll stay here. I need to run more mana tests and get the metal work done for the mass heater. Perhaps y’all could call the day a bit early and help get all the clay built up.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Samira said, sipping her coffee. Garran eagerly helped her set up the grill for breakfast. It was going to be another meat heavy morning and Dal groaned. He wanted a nice salad or some tangy citrus. At least the restroom was working and even the trio could use that.

***

“Keep the pistol’s safety on, keep your machete near you, and no parties. I left some leftover wooly gator in the ice chest.” Samira said as she zipped up her camo hunting jacket and slung the shotgun over her back.

“Sure thing, mom. Wooly gator? I thought we agreed on hairy croc?”

“Gross, hairy anything reminds me of this one patient I had. Big guy, hair everywhere and I mean everywhere. I can’t burn that image out of my mind.” Samira chuckled and strapped a hunting knife to her leg, along with the .357 and the .22, she was loaded for bear.

“Sucks that you have all this fancy fitted gear, while I have to make do with crappy clothes in the should have been dumped at Goodwill bin.”

“I might have a nice sun dress that you could fit into,” Samira said. “Once we get the surviving the winter thing settled, we can begin fitting the left over clothing for you and the others. I’m good with a needle and there was a time where I couldn’t even pay for a tailor to hem my clothes, so I learned how to instead.”

“I’m just grousing,” Dal said. “You all be safe and come back with something other than meat. Maybe fish?”

“Oh, I could go for some sushi right now.”

“Shut up and leave,” Dal said as Samira laughed.

An odd silence fell upon the warehouse as Dal realized he was truly alone now. Sure they were only a few hundred feet away and easily reached by walkie talkie, but for all intents and purposes he was truly alone. Dal signed and headed into the back area. There was always something to do.

One thing he learned from his college days was to do the thing you did not want to do first. That way it was done and you could move onto more interesting things. Dal opened up the storage unit the trio had been using. It was empty and only a few blankets reverently folded were the in the corner.

The book on Rocket Stove Mass Heaters was a long one and there were several designs that could be implemented. Dal checked it against his inventory and it looked like they had most of what was needed.

“Keep it simple, stupid,” Dal said to himself as he looked at the schematic he was going to use. It was the simplest he could find. Just a burn box made of quarter inch steel, a thirty gallon drum and a chimney made of twelve foot long pipe. He would have to but in a hole for cleaning and make an ash trap, but it didn’t seem too hard.

Dal drained his coffee cup and went to bring in the welding truck.

***

There were some fire bricks spread across five storage units, there was cement, there was plenty of steel pipe and material from the metal shop, and Dal was lost in the world of welding. It was an odd experience for him, he had taken the metal working class in high school nearly five years previous, but it was all coming back to him as if he had just learned it.

He could hear Mr. Wilson lectures about beads and keeping the weld clean. About how safety was the biggest concern and that iron working was an honest job. At the time Dal didn’t really care. His grandfather and his own father’s attempts to ‘make a man’ of him had only aroused anger and angst in him.

Yet that class he had hated and barely passed, it was helping him immensely. It was one of those things he thought he would never need to think about, but in actuality it was what he needed.

He supposed every bit of knowledge he ever gained wasn’t useless, at sometime in his life it would be needed.

Knowledge Seeker: 1 bluestone

Dal smiled and cleaned up his welds. It had taken several hours, but he admired his handiwork. A real professional would have done far better, but currently he was the best welder in the group. It was as simple as he could make it and still function, or he hoped.

The true test would be seen when he lit it up. He did so and watched as the fire burned. He set the small lid on top of the burn box and opened the small vent to allow air into it. He could feel the heat coming off the box, but it would take hours still for it to full spread. Dal stretched and found the fire extinguisher and set it beside the door.

The hardest job of the day was over. Now he sat in the sun and drank a soda. The fun part was about to begin.

He used his last purple stone to purchase Mana Crafting. As before, the world didn’t change and nothing spectacular happened. It wasn’t until he began looking at the translator charm he began to see some differences. For one, the glow he had seen with Magic Sense was still there, but it had changed. Now tiny sparks seemed to flow in and out of the charm like it was breathing.

Dal used his magnifying glass and watched as the charm breathed, noting that when he spoke out loud or played music in any language, the sparks seemed to go wild.

Every part of him wanted to take apart the charm and see how it worked. Like he did as a child, when he took apart the electronic toys his parents had bought for him. He had no idea how to put them back together, but that didn’t matter. He wanted to see what was inside of it that made it work.

Dal resigned himself to observation. He used his phone and the magnifying glass to take pictures of every bit of the charm, noting all the engraving and etchings on the bone, beads, and metal. Dal begin noting a repetition in the patterns. Within an hour he had taken pictures all thirty different runes that were etched into the pieces. He saw that copper was used to link each part together. There was also silver and iron. The bone was bone and the beads appeared to be glass.

Dal scribbled on his notes and drew out the different runes he had seen on the charm. He didn’t know what any of it meant, but if this was what the K’thari’s magic was, then it seemed like a puzzle he could work out. It was an enchantment of some sort, the runes were the key, the metals and bones bound it together in some fashion.

Under continued magnification, Dal had a his phone play a podcast about cryptocurrency and the future of finances. He didn’t pay attention to the podcast, instead watched as small sparks of mana moved along and around the charm as they reacted to the speaking voice. The charm was pulling mana from the area around it, soaking it in and running it through the various beads like electricity in a circuit. He noted that a bone and a glass bead seemed to act like capacitors as they glowed slightly brighter and more mana flowed to them on the copper and silver wires.

He leaned back and rubbed his eyes, only to see Samira and the trio staring at him.

“When-“

“You’ve been lost in your little world for about ten minutes now,” Samira said. “Find anything good about that charm?”

“What is blockchain?” Lokka asked. “Why is it the future?”

“How was the exploration?” Dal asked.

Samira and the others chuckled.

***

Samira stopped and glanced back at the storage warehouse. She hesitated as the trio continued marching toward the creek. Was leaving Dal alone a good thing? He was a nice kid, but his mind was all over the place. There was the danger of the dungeon, the danger he could hurt himself while building the mass heater, and there was always the concern about monsters skittering about in the woods.

Garran stopped and watched her silently. Samira sighed and followed them. They had to all grow up someday. This world didn’t seem to be coddling anyone and if Dal couldn’t Adult, then… she shuddered, cutting off that line of thought.

Instead Samira focused on the bright sunny morning. The weather, she noted, had been great since they arrived. She didn’t know if the lack of rain in the last week was a good or bad thing. The creek north of the warehouse was running fairly high and there didn’t seem to be any signs of drought or distress on the undergrowth or trees.

It was a truly beautiful forest. She and her Ex would hike whenever they could get their schedule lined up right. Even with the park service doing their best, there was always trash and signs of people everywhere. Yet, this was truly a wild and untouched forest.

There were no human made paths only animals, there were no signs showing you where to go, how many miles the path would be, or tired and cranky kids following after annoyed parents.

Garran and the others were long legged and were able to glide over obstacles. Samira, even though she had trekked through plenty of rough bush in her days, felt like a drunken elephant smashing into everything and breaking every twig. Yet she kept up with them, thankfully she had an Endurance Perk.

The creek flowed at their side, a bubbling sound that was comforting and soothing. She had been cooped up in the warehouse with Dal for a week now and although she knew that securing the storage units was paramount, she had been heading toward cabin fever.

Strange birds flickered in the trees, eyes of violet, blue, and even silver peered at her. Some where like parrots, multicolored and lovely, while others had leathery skin and furry bodies like bats. They all chittered, sang, and watched them warily.

“What are we looking for, High Mother?” F’darr asked.

“We see where the creek comes from, we see if we can find the source of these mana crystals, and maybe find game or edible fruits.”

“Fruits?” Lokkar asked. “A delicacy for a High Mother.”

Samira frowned, the way he said it felt like an insult or mockery. Garran noticed it too, as a yellow eye glared at him. She didn’t feel offended by it, it was a title she didn’t fully understand herself.

From what she could glean, a High Mother was a leader of the colony, she made the decisions, she decided to was to a be a warrior, a priest, and jockeyed for power among the other High Mothers. Perhaps it was a species mindset for the K’thari. They seemed very caste based and even though Garran could have killed Dal and her, he instead submitted to her will and treated her like a High Mother.

Alien sociology wasn’t something they taught in medical school. For now she would go with the flow, Dal agreed too. They need the trio and the trio needed them. For now they could all pretend to be one happy colony, and she could ignore the snide remarks from Lokkar. She had twenty years of hospital experience to fall back on. There were plenty of asshole doctors who were assholes just because they could be, but because they needed to be. She had thick skin and if it came to it, a talking to in a backroom where no one could hear.

They ate up the mileage as they moved along the creek. Samira had seen plenty of signs of animals and scat, she had seen a massive paw that looked like an elephants, and there appeared to be rut marks on some of the purple blue trees.

“Big predator,” Garran said, gesturing to the scratches on the tree. “Tall as I am standing and probably five times my weight,” he used his short spear to circle a paw print. Samira clearly saw the claw marks, but the odd thing was that there appeared to be too many paw prints.

“Did many of them came through?” Samira asked.

“Only one. Probably has eight legs,” the reptile leader stated.

“Eight legs,” Samira mused. “I’d like to see that.”

“I wonder how it tastes,” F’darr added.

Samira took a plastic bag out and began collecting various plants she didn’t recognize. She wondered if the rule of three applied here. Alien plants, who knew what they could do to humans who weren’t evolved to deal with them. So far everything seemed oddly Earth normal. Trees were trees, albeit different color bark. Wooly gators tasted like gamey chicken, but wasn’t poisonous. And even the blood of the iron birds was red.

Convergent evolution of a sorts. Perhaps as Dal assumed, all these worlds that were being dumped here were all somehow similar. Allowing for the new comers to live and thereby cause each other trouble.

“Why plants?” F’darr asked.

“Dal’s got magic sense,” Samira said. “He can tell if these things are magical. He’s got some idea of learning alchemy along with all the other stuff he’s trying to figure out.”

F’darr bobbed her head. “I do not understand.”

“You know medicine can be made from plants?” Samira asked.

“Yes, mushroom gardens in the Underground, make medicine,” F’darr said. “I was tender and Low Mother…” she paused and didn’t continue further.

Samira didn’t react to her words. What Garran had told her about F’darr was a secret shared in confidence. If F’darr wanted to tell her ,then she would do so on her own.

“Some plants might be magical, like the rock we’re looking for,” Samira said. “Or so says Dal. I’m not sure. But if I can find anything that looks like it came from Earth, then maybe I can make some ointments or meds that will help us survive a bit better.”

F’darr smiled. “Healer High Mother, best High Mother,” she said.

“I guess,” Samira shrugged and collected plant samples in small plastic bags. She gathered up a dozen samples and they moved on once more.

A high pitched screech sounded and the quartet stopped in their tracks. They scanned their surroundings, searching for the source of the noise. Lokkar shouted as a creature seemed to flicker into being on the north edge of the creek. It was a slight bend, the creek making a forty five degree turn to north and far bank was shrouded in thick blue trees.

“Camo,” Samira said as the creature turned to a yellowish gray and nearly seemed to run across the creek’s surface. “Fast too,” She snapped up her shotgun and fired a shot, the creature was moving in a straight line and at a steady pace, albeit fast pace. The area before the running creature exploded with blood and gore, as another yellow gray creature dropped their invisibility and bobbed to the surface of the creek. The first creature was riddled with arrows before slamming into a mana wall and stunning itself. Garran shot forward and stabbed it with his short spear.

“They’re hiding,” Garran shouted. “Eyes out, form defensive!”

Creek Floater: Killed

50 mana

2 serrated fangs

The water of the creek bubbled as more creatures turned visible. They clamored leaped from the creek and raced toward them, in unison they screeched. Samira flinched from the noise and she could see that it too bothered the trio.

Lokkan’s wall was still up and they hissed and snarled as they collided into it. Samira clenched down hard on her fear and terror as she slowly aimed and pulled the trigger on the shotgun. Within less than a minute they were standing with seven dead floaters around them.

Samira stepped forward and inspected the creatures. A fleshy wreath wrapped around their necks under their head, which she assumed was the floatation device. Their body was thin and wiry, all claws and tails, not much meat. Samira guess they floated with their heads on the surface, using their odd invisibility to hide them. Their tails were stiff and spring like, allowing them to launch themselves out of the water.

Samira looted an additional one hundred mana and one tail, four fangs, and cured leather. The latter was a surprise as Samira held it out. It was the entire skin of the floater she had just killed, but it was supple and tanned.

Of all the things she had seen so far, that was the weirdest. How could a completely tanned animal skin be created out of nothing? She could understand the dungeon, but this wasn’t the dungeon. It was supposed to be the outside world and these were just simple creatures living in it.

“That is nice,” F’darr said, rubbing the leather. “We can skin these and make more leather, for clothing or armor. “ She glanced at the four Samira had killed with the shotgun. Three had gaping holes in their chest and the fourth was missing its head and most of its neck. “Enough for one hatchling K’thari, then.” She chuckled.

Samira had to smile as the joke. There was no meat on the creatures, so they skinned them fast and Samira loaded them into a plastic trash bag and Lokkar carried the load.

“I want pants,” Lokkar said. “Dal says they keep the legs warm.”

“I don’t think you can pull off leather pants,” Samira joked.

“I can pull on and pull off,” Lokkar snapped.

“Garran and High Mother decide,” F’darr snapped back. Lokkar growled, but didn’t say anything.

A few more miles up creek, they stopped for an early lunch. It was wooly gator jerky. One of the things Garran was knowledgeable in was smoking meat. He might have been a mercenary, but a lot of those duties were hunting and keeping their own food on travels. He created a small meat smoking set up in the back of the warehouse and spent most of the night smoking the meat they had caught. A bit of salt and pepper and it was delicious.

Samira watched as a hairy beaver looking animal ambled up to the creek. It drank deeply, ballooning up in size before ambling back into the woods.

“Should we hunt?” F’darr asked.

“We have enough food for now,” Garran said.

“Take only what you need,” Lokkar intoned. “The White goddess does not abide waste.”

F’darr made a noise and kept chewing on her jerky.

***

Samira stood on a large bolder as they entered a clearing. The blue trees fell back, revealing the sun and the trio hissed in pleasure at its warmth. F’darr scurried up on a large rock and lay upon it spread-eagle, hissing in pleasure. Lokkar looked like he wanted to join but stood beside Garran.

The leader of the trio scanned the meadow, looking for threats or anything. The creek ran along the edge of the clearing, shaded by tall trees that were a mix of blue, purple, and normal looking conifers.

Samira raised her binoculars and scanned the clearing. A bit of metal caught her eye near the north edge along the creek. “Something’s over there,” she said, pointing.

Garran tensed and switched his spear out for his crossbow. F’darr hopped to her feet, her bow in her hands as she moved in front of Samira.

Samira stepped to the side and focused on the object. “Oh,” she said after a moment. “It’s part of a wing of a plane.”

“Wing?” F’darr asked.

Samira jumped off the boulder and headed for the wing. The white paint stood out in the green grass. The wing was about fifteen feet long, sheered off at one end and the rest a crumpled mess. She didn’t smell any aviation fuel, so it must had been empty when it was ripped away. That didn’t mean there had been an aviation accident; the wing could have been snipped off from a parked plane.

“Metal,” Garran said, touching the wing. “From what?”

“Where Dal and I come from, there are great metal birds that fly across the sky. People can sit in them and travel… uh… tens of thousands of strides in minutes.”

Garran and the others laughed. “Fine joke, Mother.”

Samira shrugged, not able to and not really willing to argue about science to the bronze aged people.

There were no additional markings on the wing, so they continued onward. The terrain was getting rough, with steep rock walls rising to the west and great scree covered hills poking out of the forests to the west.

The western mountains were huge as they neared them. She could see the white tips of the blue mountains. She wondered if anyone had climbed it. It wasn’t an outdoor interest she had, but she could see someone attempting it.

Garran made a signal and Samira was abruptly pulled the the ground by F’darr. The thin woman looked concerned and Samira didn’t say anything. Garran and Lokkan slowly moved along the forest edge as Samira and F’darr lay motionless.

A moment later Lokkar scurried back.

“People,” he said.

***

Samira removed the scope off the .22 and with a boost from F’darr and Lokkar, she climbed her way through the branches of a blue tree. Her camo gear blended in with the green and silver leaves, far better than the creamy green and yellow of the K’thari. The binoculars might have worked, but they were cheap civillian brands, the scope on the .22 was high end and non reflective.

A bare side of rock was exposed before Samira. It was a rust colored sandstone, stretching for more than a mile and rising nearly a hundred feet high. Carved into its surface was something out of a movie Samira once watched. Petra, from that Han Solo actor.

It was Petra or Petra like, but in miniature. Even from her distance, Samira could tell that the doorways were barely two feet high and there were ladders on the exterior to reach higher floors.

It was a village of tiny people. Samira had to grin as she watched the first figure exit one of the buildings. They were small, about two and a half feet tall and looked like a cross between a Rhesus monkey and an owl.

The body was primate, two arms, two legs, and a long curled tail, but the face was thet of an owl, short beak, big eyes, and constantly moving on a swivel. It didn’t have fur, but tiny down feathers that covered its body, in dun colors of light browns and darker browns.

Samira watched as it wandered off to the creek and began digging up rocks and sand, pulling out what looked to be worms and some kind of shellfish. The monkey bird worked diligently as they filled up a wicker basket.

No one seemed to be outside besides the gatherer, but as the minutes passed by Samira heard a squawk and chitter. The gathered looked up from where they were and hurriedly carried their laden basket back to the carved rock wall. They ducked inside and Samira thought that was the end of it. Maybe the cry was an alert that danger was coming.

She was wrong as scores of feathered monkeybirds exited the mini petra. She was shocked at how many they were, all different colors, sizes, and ages, small chittering hatchlings raced about, tossing aside rocks to dig for bugs, while older and mostly bald of feathers elders limped along with the aides of canes.

“A whole village of bird people.”

The group squawked and cried out as dozens more monkey bird people emerged from the north. They carried long poles on their shoulders, with dripping bags swaying between them. Hunters; they were a hunting party. They all seemed young, strong, and steady as theothers gathered around to help with the load.

Fish, Samira saw. Catfish, bass, tilapia. She hadn’t seen any fish in the creek, besides what looked like minnows and small crabs.

An old bald monkey bird raised their hands, the chittering spotted.

“Bounty!” the monkey bird cried out clear enough for Samira to hear. “We might be lost, but we will not starve,” he continued, his voice carrying. He was clearly used to it. “This strange land is terrible, but being near the lake means we will not starve.”

The gathered monkey birds began chittering and cheering.

One of the fisher-people took the elder’s place, gingerly helping them down. They raised their feathered arms up and spoke slowly and deeply.

“We have seen many tracks of the eight legged,” they said. “Please, stay within the Halls, the ancient temple is our sanctuary for now. Until we know more about what this world is and the cursed messages we gain.”

There was a worried murmur of the gathered people, but soon they were organizing themselves to take the gathered fish back into the Hall. Soon the area was deserted and Samira could hear no sound coming from the elaborately carved Hall.

She eased herself down off the tree and the quartet huddled.

“First contact,” Samira said and then paused. “Okay, second contact. These little monkey people seem to be plagued by that eight legged predator Garran pointed out.”

“There could be more than one,” Garran said.

“There is a lake to the north, it seems,” Samira said. “Thats where they’re getting the fish from.” Her stomach growled at the thought of grilled tilapia or fried catfish. “We need to get back to the warehouse and figure-“

A roar filled the air. Samira and the others grabbed weapons and prepared for a fight. Instead of something coming at them, it was going for the monkey birds home. Samira snapped up her scope and saw what was plaguing the monkey birds. A bear like creature, six feet at the haunches, eight legs, and a mean attitude. It thundered out of the trees and roared at the carved building. Its pig like nose was wiggling as it sniffed the air, probably following the smell of the fish.

The creature began attacking the Hall, Samira finally noticing that there were deep scratch marks along the sandstone artwork. Small openings appeared and spears, arrows, and projectiles began pelting the creature. They might as well have not tried for all the damage they were doing.

“You got my back?” Samira said.

“Of course, High Mother,” Garran said. There was no hesitation in his response.

Samira paused for a moment and took out her phone. She aimed it at the beast and took a picture.

“For Dal,” she said.

Garran nodded as if that explained everything. He had seen the phones they used, but hadn’t really asked questions about them. They were, to him, magical devices and that was that.

“Let’s go,’ Samira said.

Garran snapped up his crossbow and followed as she unslung her shotgun.

“Hey, asshole!” Samira shouted.

The massive creature stopped its clawing and wild redden eyes latched upon her and her companions. A giant mouth filled with crooked teeth opened and the creature roared again, dropping to all eight clawed feet.

“You hungry? How about a lead sandwich!”

***

“Lead sandwich?” Dal laughed, leaning back in his chair. “How old are you? Five?”

“Shut up,” Samira said. “It was in the heat of the moment.”

“High Mother is very brave,” F’darr said.

“Did you kill it?”

“A party kill,” Samira said. “It actually said it was a party kill, so all four of us got loot.”

Dal stared at her expectantly.

Samira sighed. “One track mind.” She took out her phone and showed him the images. “Before you ask and make this awkward. Five hundred mana, twenty claws, two fangs, and three redstones.”

“Wow, that-“

“Each.” Samira said. “Well, I also got an uncured pelt.”

Dal gulped. “Holy crap,” he muttered.

“Hello,” a voice said. Dal peered over the desk to see a figure nearly hidden by the tall K’thari.

“We also brought back an ambassador of sorts,” Samira said with a wince. “He’s a curious little bugger like you.”

“Oh, you have bugs?” the monkey bird asked. “May I indulge?”