The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  It was over.

  —-

  “I can’t believe it. That…thing is yours? And you let it wander around unchecked?”

  Erin wanted to back away from the angry female mage named Revi. She was already regretting offering a free meal to everyone who’d been fighting. The Gnolls had all left for the city with Krshia, but she had a room full of guardsmen and, unfortunately, irate adventurers.

  “Toren? Well…Pisces made him, and he’s helpful. I guess he goes off sometimes, but he doesn’t hurt anyone, right? I mean, you said he was just fighting a…Snow Golem? That’s not bad, is it?”

  Another adventurer leaned forwards. He was…Halrac? The [Scout] guy. He looked angry and annoyed, but Erin hadn’t seen his expression change the entire time he’d been here.

  “Frankly, Miss Solstice, any undead is potentially dangerous, and this one killed a construct we sent after it. Your servant is far more intelligent than normal undead, which should be impossible if he’s not a Revenant.”

  “Well…that’s good, right?”

  Erin saw the other adventurers of Griffon Hunt exchange a glance. Ulrien, the big guy who looked like some kind of bodybuilder cleared his throat and shook his head.

  “You said one of your customers animated him? Which one?”

  “Pisces. Oh—he’s upstairs. Sleeping. I can introduce him to you later, if you like.”

  Erin pointed upstairs. Pisces was sleeping, and for once she hadn’t begrudged him the bed. He’d had a horribly swollen face after the battle, and Brunkr and the other Gnolls had battered him repeatedly. Erin knew she owed him a favor, although she hated to think of how many free meals that would mean.

  “I don’t think it would help.”

  Ulrien looked troubled as he shook his head. The last adventurers, an old man named Typhenous, lowered his mug long enough to stare hard at Erin.

  “We don’t mean to accuse you, Miss Solstice. But undead are dangerous, and this one has several unique abilities we’ve never seen a skeleton exhibiting. I would be cautious, if I were you.”

  Erin glanced over at Toren. He was circulating the room, refilling mugs held out by wary guardsmen as efficiently as ever. She didn’t get the problem. If anything, it was Lyon who Erin felt like worrying about.

  The girl was unusually subdued after the fight, almost worryingly so. She was actually obeying orders albeit ineffectively. Erin winced as she saw the girl nearly trip and splash some soup all over a guardsman’s back.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him. But um, thanks for helping me, I guess. I would have been in trouble if you hadn’t helped clear out the Gnolls.”

  Halrac waved a hand and grunted while the other adventurers made similar noises and faces to match. Revi glared across the room at Relc. The Drake was laughing loudly at his own table with Klbkch, happily downing all the precious alcohol Erin had just bought in the city.

  “Just be careful, and keep that thing on a tighter leash.”

  Erin nodded, and backed away from the table. She was so busy backing up she ran into something huge and solid behind her. She turned, and jumped.

  “My apologies, Miss Erin.”

  Erin looked up, and up into a huge face staring apologetically down at her. She’d seen the giant man before of course, but she’d been a bit busy with everything that had happened. Now, though, Erin could fully realize what she was seeing.

  “…Hodor?”

  Moore’s fare wrinkled up with confusion, but he smiled and stuck out a massive hand anyways.

  “It’s Moore, ma’am. I’m very grateful you’ve provided me with such a fine meal, although I must insist I pay.”

  “What? Oh, no, I wouldn’t dream of it. You’re very welcome to eat here, especially with how much help you’ve been! Lots! Huge amounts!”

  Erin babbled as she gently shook his hands—or rather, a few fingers of his hand. Moore smiled, and gestured towards the door. Erin realized he was trying to get out and hurriedly stepped aside.

  “Thank you. I believe I’ve had a bit too much to drink. I suppose it’s too much to hope that you have a giant-sized outhouse to match your hospitality?”

  “What? Oh, no. Oh, I don’t. I’m so sorry!”

  Moore shook his head and smiled at Erin.

  “Please, please. I’m quite used to standing out. I’ll simply find a quiet spot to ah, relieve myself. It’s no worry.”

  He stepped out of the inn, bending to avoid smacking his head on the doorframe. Erin heard laughter, and turned to see the other two adventuerers sitting at a table.

  “I do believe you’ve embarrassed Moore. He’s not used to someone being so concerned for him.”

  Erin walked over and saw Ceria was sitting with Jelaqua and the odd man named Seborn. Her eyes drifted down towards the claw on his hand and the odd puffed up skin—or was it mold?—covering half of his body. She jerked her eyes away as he looked at her and smiled at the other two.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that he’s…I mean, I’ve never seen anyone like him. Is he a, uh, a giant?”

  “Quarter-giant, or eighth-giant, actually. He’s not sure, but don’t worry about it. He’s used to the stares, and so are we.”

  Jelaqua stood and held out a hand towards Erin. Erin took it and found the other woman’s skin was clammy and cold to the touch. She blinked, but Ceria learned forwards and explained.

  “Ah, Erin. These adventurers are all part-human, like me.”

  “Really? I mean…oh. That’s cool? I mean, not cool exactly, but it’s nice? Not that being Human is cool or nice or not being Human is bad, but—um. Sorry. Thanks for helping, and uh, nice to meet you?”

  Erin blushed as she stumbled over her words. She had no idea what to say, but apparently that was the right thing. Jelaqua blinked, and then burst out laughing. Even Seborn smiled, or at least, half of his face did.

  “We’re delighted to meet someone as open-minded as you, Miss Solstice. We would have helped anyways, but I must confess, we had a reason for helping.”

  Jelaqua nodded towards Ceria, and the half-Elf blinked in surprise. Seborn nodded.

  “It was good we found you here. We have an offer to extend to you, Springwalker.”

  He had a curiously resonant voice, as if he was speaking from inside some kind of room. Ceria blinked at the two adventuerers in surprise.

  “Me? I’m surprised you know of me.”

  Jelaqua laughed.

  “Well, we keep tabs on people like you. But where are my manners?”

  She extended a hand towards Ceria, and the half-Elf gingerly took it. She apparently knew that Jelaqua’s skin was different from normal, because she didn’t react as the two briskly shook hands.

  “Ceria Springwalker, my name is Jelaqua Ivirith. I’m leader of the Halfseekers or, as you might have heard of us, the Half Freaks.”

  Her lips twisted sardonically as the adventurers continued.

  “We’re a Gold-rank team, but we’ve lost a few members recently, and we came here looking to explore this new dungeon, but also to scout for someone to join us. And after seeing you fight, we think you might fit well with us.”

  Ceria gasped in surprise and half-rose out of her seat. Erin stared at the two adventurers in surprise. Gold-rank? That was…really important, wasn’t it? Ceria looked from Jelaqua to Seborn in stunned astonishment.

  “What? Me? But I’m only a Silver-rank adventurers! And I just lost my entire party. I barely have any magical artifacts on me what could I—?”

  “Please, Ceria, calm down.”

  Jelaqua smiled at Ceria as she put a hand on the half-Elf’s shoulder.

  “We may be a Gold-rank team, but that doesn’t mean we have to hire only Gold-rank adventurers. Besides, it’s worth finding someone competent even if we have to level them up and give them a few magical items to get them started. Most importantly, you’re a half-Elf, like us. We need people we can work with, not people afraid of non-Humans.”

  “It’s just so sudden. I don’t know—
I’m honored of course, but—”

  Ceria stammered, and Jelaqua shook her head.

  “Take your time. We just wanted to mention that. It’s part of the reason we came out here and were able to help.”

  Seborn nodded.

  “Half-species are rare enough that we knew your name. So when we heard of the dungeon, it was easy enough to make the decision to journey here.”

  “I will certainly think about it, thank you. It’s just that I have other people I’m considering forming a party with—”

  Ceria glanced down a few tables. Yvlon was eating with Selys in a corner of the room. Jelaqua shrugged.

  “Take your time. We’re waiting to unearth the entrance to the dungeon, so there’s plenty of time for you to think. And we’ll talk later – this is just so you know.”

  Ceria nodded slowly. She looked overwhelmed. Erin could bear it no more. She raised her voice nervously and all three demi-humans looked at her.

  “Um. Uh, is it rude if I ask what species you all are? I don’t want to be rude but—”

  “It’s no problem. Most people don’t ask or they know.”

  Jelaqua smiled as she pointed at Moore who’d just returned, ducking his head as he reentered the inn.

  “Moor is part-Giant as you know. He’s our [Mage]. Our only spell caster, unless Ceria joins us. Next we have Seborn, our [Rogue]. He’s a Drowned Man.”

  Seborn nodded.

  “I’ve been like this ever since I was a young man.”

  “Uh, Drowned…?”

  The half-man nodded. He turned slightly and raised his crab arm so Erin could get a good look at him. He did look disturbingly like some kind of fungi was growing on him, but now that Erin looked closer, she could see where dark red carapace was had mixed with the puffed skin.

  “It’s the name of our people—of everyone who’s suffered this fate. There’s a creature that lives in the sea that latches onto your body and melds with it. It can take your mind over unchecked, but even if you kill it, it will still change you forever. Half of me is monster, but it doesn’t affect me in any way save for my appearance.”

  “Oh. I’m…I’m sorry?”

  Seborn smiled at Erin, and shrugged.

  “No need to be sorry, is there? I’ve gotten used to it.”

  “And I’m a Selphid.”

  Jelaqua said that as if the name itself should be explanatory. Erin frowned, and Ceria spoke up.

  “Erin doesn’t know many other races. Ah, Erin, a Selphid is…well, you could call them parasites if you were rude, but they’re more like…”

  “Parasites is a good word. We’re thieves, only we steal bodies instead of anything else. It’s troublesome, but it’s the only way we can live.”

  The woman smiled at Erin, who had no idea what any of them were talking about.

  “You mean you’re a ghost?”

  Again, the adventurers laughed. Jelaqua shook her head.

  “Haven’t you heard of the body snatches of Baleros? No? We’re a species that find dead bodies and inhabit them, sort of like what happened to Seborn. Only, I can move between bodies and…well, I suppose it’s easiest to show you.”

  Jelaqua stood up and pushed her chair back. She walked over to Erin, and then pulled her chainmail off. Erin blinked, but then Jelaqua had begun pulling her shirt off. And then her bra.

  “What are you—hey!”

  Erin turned away, and made shooing motions at the other guardsmen.

  “No one look! No staring!”

  She paused when she realized no one was. The guardsmen were staring hard the other way, and the members Griffon Hunt were staring at their food grimly. Across the room Relc shouted.

  “Aw. The freak’s going to do that disgusting thing!”

  Erin turned to glare at him, but Jelaqua chuckled. Erin found herself looking at a very pale—nearly albino in fact—set of breasts. Jelaqua tapped her chest and smiled at Erin.

  “Watch. Don’t be alarmed, now. It’s just that Selphids are—”

  Her chest opened up. Erin saw the skin part as something inside pushed the skin and bones away like wrapping paper. The inside of Jelaqua wasn’t red—no, it was nearly as white as the rest of her. Her skin was bloodless, as were her organs. Probably because Jelaqua’s body wasn’t living.

  She was dead. And it was the writhing mass of creatures inside her, the dark green and yellow things that blinked and squiggled at Erin and waved long, thin tendrils like spaghetti that were living.

  Something pulsated, and then Erin saw two lungs inside of Jelaqua’s organs expand, and her mouth opened and spoke.

  “See? We live inside dead bodies. We’re parasites, but don’t worry—we don’t inhabit living people as a rule. We take on the attributes of our host, but we can change bodies if one gets damaged. Healing potions don’t work on dead flesh you see, and Erin? Erin?”

  “Ah.”

  Erin stared down at the chest-bursting…the thing that came out of her body…the tendrils of the flesh-exploding…skin…tearing open…

  Her eyelids flickered a few times. Erin smiled at the creatures waving at her inside the dead body’s chest, blinked, and then fainted backwards.

  No one caught her.

  Jelaqua frowned down at Erin as the vine-like tendrils slowly closed the flesh back together seamlessly. She looked around with her human head at the others and scowled.

  “Oh come on. I saw her put a Gnoll’s head through a window, and she went toe-to-toe with a Gold-rank adventurer, but this she faints over?”

  Erin didn’t hear her. She lay unconscious on the ground until Klbkch helped Ceria bring her up to a room upstairs and slept for the rest of the day, which passed by with much drama and excitement, but no more chest-bursting or fighting.

  It was the first of many eventful days to come.

  [Skill Change – Power Strike → Minotaur Punch!]

  [Skill – Minotaur Punch Obtained!]

  1.00 C

  Do you wanna hear a funny joke? Okay. Here it is.

  ‘A fat guy appears in a fantasy world and decides to become a [Clown].’

  …I’m still working on the punch line. It’s the only joke I’ve got, though. I try to be funny, but really, I’m a [Clown]. I’m not actually sure we’re meant to make people laugh.

  Curious about the parenthesis? It means I have a Class. [Clown], to be exact. Yeah. It’s this entire thing which I don’t want to go into.

  Suffice it to say that I’m in a world where everyone gains levels and classes. Make sense? It doesn’t to me either. But let’s just call it a videogame where if you get stabbed in the stomach, you still bleed and die horribly.

  I’m going to die that way, I just know it. I’m a fat idiot who chose/got the wrong class. Clown. In a world with monsters and magic, who wants to be a clown?

  Me, apparently.

  According to Edward or Eddy as he likes to be called, I shouldn’t even have this class. He keeps telling me I’m like a Bard or a Troubadour from one of the Final Fantasy series games. Number XXIV or something like that.

  I never played those games as a kid. I wasn’t a gamer, and I sort of regret it now. Maybe if I was, I’d be able to deal with this.

  Probably not. How could anything prepare you to actually fight and die against creatures twice as terrifying as anything from our world? Nothing could.

  So it’s no wonder I don’t want to fight. Maybe that’s why I got the [Clown] class. Those first few days when we were all summoned to this world, I was just trying to cope by telling jokes and get people to laugh. I’m good at being the funny guy, normally. But then I became a [Clown] and everything got a lot less funny when we realized we were here to stay.

  Oh yeah? Did I mention that? Okay, let me go back and explain. We—and by we, I mean me and around fifty people around my age of 20—appeared in this world thanks to a summoning spell. We appeared in front of this old guy on a throne, and suddenly everyone was screaming that we were the ‘prophesied heroes’.

>   Cut to now. Just over twenty of us are left, and instead of being the heroes of the Blighted Lands, we’re disgraces sent to garrison a village on the outskirts, barely acknowledged by the throne or the people.

  Because we suck. You know how the main hero in a movie gets teleported to another world and instantly has some kind of special skill or talent? That’s us, just without anything special.

  The King—the Blighted King, he’s called, Othius the Fourth – greeted us, and told us we would be the heroes who drove the demons out of his kingdom. He gave us weapons, sent us out into battle—

  And we got slaughtered. The survivors couldn’t do anything, and so he gave up on us. He essentially exiled us from the capital city, and sent us out where we couldn’t cause any trouble.

  Some of the others, the people from my world, learned to fight. Some even got good enough to hunt monsters and keep the surrounding area safe. But most of us couldn’t deal with what was happening.

  Richard’s a [Knight], Level 26 and the strongest person in our group by far. He leads us and keeps us safe.

  Emily’s a Level 21 [Hydromancer]. She’s the idol of our group if you can call anyone that. She’s popular.

  The others – six or so guys and one girl who fight – all have some kind of fighting or magical class. The others either have barely one or two levels, or have chosen different jobs, like [Cook] or [Tailor] or [Gatherer].

  The majority help fight and keep people safe, and the others help out or just…exist. But that’s the group. You can divide it neatly up into combat and non-combat classes, except for one oddball.

  That would be me. The fat guy. A [Clown]. Funny man without anything funny to say about what’s happening.

  Tom’s my name. It’s actually Thomas, but Tom is what I prefer to be called. And yeah, I’m the class clown of the group in more ways than one. But the truth is, I’m not actually that funny. If you couldn’t tell, no one ever laughs at my jokes.

  I always wanted to do stand up, not slapstick. But it turns out I’m not good at either. Yeah, I’m an unfunny fat guy walking around with white makeup on trying to entertain people. Which is pretty funny when you think about it, and just sad when you actually see it.