by Eric Ugland
He moved ridiculously fast, covering the twenty feet between us like it had been, I mean, like a foot. His club moved through the air before I could even think about getting my sword up, and it crashed into the side of my head and knocked me silly.
I dropped to my knees. My vision went a bit dark before flaring back to light. But I closed my eyes all the same, just for a second.
Gruff was leaning over.
“It’s only good once a fight, really,” he whispered, “but it is one of my favorite abilities.”
I feigned falling over, then stabbed upward has hard as I could.
The sword went straight through him until his belly hit the hand guard. I lifted him straight into the air, standing up and bringing him with me.
I smiled at him. “Here’s my favorite ability,” I said. Then I jammed the sword into a tree, trapping Gruff in place.
He tried to say something, but I think the pain got to him. He blinked quietly a few times, and then just passed out.
I stalked around the area, and made sure any of my opponents still living were turned to corpses. And after a second circuit, I was sure I was the only one alive, save the trees.
Since I couldn’t find anything else to kill, red pulsed in my vision signaling the end of the frenzy. I dropped to my knees, the pain overwhelming me.
Chapter Six
Once again, I had a clear indicator of how much time had passed before I woke up: It was still daylight out, and nothing was feasting on the corpses around me. So not that long.
I needed to move quickly. Running into a Mahrduhm patrol obviously meant I was in a Mahrduhm-controlled area. There would most definitely be more soldiers out looking for trouble. And while I did have a bit of weaponry now, I still didn’t have any armor.
I did a quick inventory of the available armaments, and came to see one of the real downsides of well, being me. My strength had gotten to the point that normal weapons just didn’t have the durability to handle what I did to them. And this was a prime example. The swords were universally bent. Any wooden hafts were broken. Chips had been knocked out of the axeheads. There was only one worthwhile weapon remaining — the spiky mace Gruff had tried to bash my head in with. I guess he did bash my head in, it just hadn’t ended me. I grabbed the mace, gave it a little flourish, and then hung it from my belt.
Then I went through the corpses, looting. The eleven coin purses were mostly empty; their combined contents barely even filled up one. I found a few chains, a few rings, and some miscellaneous jewelry that I stuffed in a second pouch. Then I collected fourteen daggers from the various ‘killers’ and put all of them into my knapsack. Then I got to my feet, and started out. I had places to be.
I purposefully moved deeper into the forest, going the opposite way, as far as I could discern, from where the Mahrduhmese soldiers had come. Which meant two things: I was now heading away from Rumib Pass, and I was hiking uphill. My best-case scenario now seemed to be climbing back up the damn mountain and trying to get down the other side into the Empire. Or, maybe I could just wade right into the thick of the Mahrduhm army and kill enough of the soldiers that they wind up killing me, and I’d respawn back up at the peak.
I smiled at that thought. And yet, it seemed really fucking violent for no reason. Mahrduhm hadn’t done that much to me. Sure, they tried to kill me twice, but it’s not like the Empire had a much better record. Still, the only reason to go and knock heads around would be to engage in violence for the fun of it. And I didn’t want to be that guy anymore.
Up the mountainside I went. I thought I was being sneaky, but as I got to a small clearing filled to the brim with ferns, I heard a big thump. Something landed in the open area, crushing a boatload of greenery.
I pulled my mace out immediately, holding it in front of me like it would actually do anything against a giant monster that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.
The thing was green, with bulbous eyes and a wide mouth. A frog the size of a damn van. Well, maybe a minivan. Big. I definitely paused for a moment, wondering what the hell I was looking at, thinking that perhaps I’d stumbled onto some massive monster I needed to vanquish. But one, where the hell did the giant frog come from, and two, why would it be in the relatively dry mountains? Sure, the clearing was full of lush green ferns, which made me think there was a spring somewhere in the clearing. But it couldn’t be enough to warrant a population of minivan-sized frogs.
“Fritz?” I asked, hopeful, but also ready to rumble if need be.
“Am. Fritz,” came back the reply in an almost frog-like ribbit cadence.
“Well shit,” I said, lowering the mace and smiling. “Nice to see you again.”
I think he tried to smile. But then he opened his mouth and vomited out a large egg-shaped rock, with a piece of what looked like paper on top. And naturally, it was all covered with a thick layer of glossy, viscous-looking saliva.
“Dude,” I said. “The fuck is that?”
“Read. Note. Id. Iot.”
“When did you get to be a dick?”
“Learned. From. Watch. Ing. You.”
“Great.” I had a sassy giant frog as a companion. There was probably a Muppet joke in there somewhere, but it wasn’t coming to me at the time.
The egg-shaped rock was about two and a half feet tall. It was a light brown almost tawny color with a few dark speckles here and there. Which made me think that it might actually be an egg. It certainly looked like a giant egg. I walked into the fern clearing, my feet squelching in damp soil. It would have been mud except for, you know, all the ferns.
I knelt in front of the egg-shaped stone (or maybe just egg), and I paused. The slimy covering was a bit much to handle.
“This is gross,” I said, pointing at the saliva.
Fritz met my gaze with his big bulbous eyes, and rolled them all the way around. As far as eye-rolls go, it was maybe the most impressive I’d seen.
“Is it going to hurt me?”
He shrugged.
Slowly, I reached my hand out and into the nastiness that was Fritz the Frog’s saliva. It was warm. And gooey. And disgusting. I grabbed the paper and pulled it toward me.
If the saliva had been cheese, it would have been the most amazing pizza ad in history. Instead, it was just a clear strand of gloss hanging in the air, connecting the note back to the egg.
I swallowed my rising puke, thanked Typhon the saliva didn’t have much of an odor, and I read the note.
Montana,
I appreciate the care you have shown Fritz. I expected less from you. A present, then. This is a creature I am considering unleashing upon your world. It will bond with you upon emerging from its shell. Keep it warm. Keep it safe. Good luck.
-- Typhon
“Is he serious?” I asked.
Fritz just looked at me, then hop-walked away to munch on some ferns.
“Thanks, Typhon,” I said to the sky. “I guess.”
I looked at the egg. It was huge. I tried to pick it up, but the saliva coating was so thick and slippery that I couldn’t get my hands around it. So I grabbed big handfuls of ferns and rubbed the saliva off as best I could. When I finally got it clean enough to pick up, I realized it was heavy. Not difficult to lift, but more a clear sense of density to the thing.
Fritz was drinking water, making an awful racket. I wanted to tell him to shut up, but it didn’t seem like that would be possible for the dude.
Instead, I got to work making a baby-monster-björn. I took off my upper furs, put the egg inside where my torso would normally go, and tied all the various fur bits at the bottom together. Then I turned the coat over, and tied the arms around my bare chest.
“You ready to bounce out of here?” I asked.
Fritz looked up and over at me, spraying water and ferns all over the clearing.
“Go?” he asked.
“Yeah. We have a long walk. Or, you know, hop.”
He shook, almost like a dog, and massive bat-like wings spread out from
his back. Big. The dude easily had a forty or fifty foot wingspan.
“Well look at that,” I said, a smile spreading over my face.
He gave a massive flap, lifting off the ground. The ferns shuddered under the wind. It was like standing beneath a helicopter. Then he came back down with a thud.
“Fly?” He asked.
“Fuck yeah,” I said. “We’ll be home in no time.”
Chapter Seven
There are lots of ways to travel if you are looking for comfort and style. ‘Giant frog’ is not one of them. For one, frogs are built for jumping, which does not translate to aerodynamic sleekness. Also their skin is slick yet tough, which makes gripping onto them kinda challenging. Finally, Fritz had become a bit of a dick.
All those things combined to make riding Fritz something akin to the most horrific roller coaster ever imagined.
I climbed up and tried to find a relatively comfortable spot behind his neck. But it turns out frogs don’t really have necks. It’s more like a giant head coming out of a squat body. With a little maneuvering, I figured out that I could hook my legs under his wings and behind his forelegs, but that was really the only thing holding me in place. His wings were massive, and sitting right between them meant I was going to get hit by them on occasion. It’s hard to tell if that was purely a Fritz thing, or more a matter of physiology.
Regardless, at take-off, Fritz hopped with all his froggy might, and we shot into the air. It took all my considerable leg-strength to prevent from tipping over backwards. Then, he brought his wings up, smacking me on either side of the body, and down. We shot up again. It was a rough flight.
At least the view was incredible. We climbed quickly into the brisk air, and I got a good look at the mountains around us.
“Can we stay on the Mahrduhm side and go west for a bit?” I shouted into the wind.
Fritz gave a slight nod, and angled more northward.
Directly below were pine forests. They looked dry, except for some pockets of green that made me think there might be springs there. A ways in front of us, I saw a deep chasm cut by a swift river. Likely meltwater from the mountains. After the river ducked out of the rock, it was surrounded by a swath of green, leading to a small town deeper in the valley. At least, I thought it was a town. There were buildings there, and I could see smoke swirling out of chimneys. But you know, it could have been anything really.
I looked over my shoulder and saw the Mahrduhmese army. It was a sobering sight. They looked like a black stain on the land, the trees clear cut and the landscape mostly destroyed all around them. Lots of small campfires dotted their path, with smoke snaking up everywhere.
We moved west at a decent clip. After my initial survey of the landscape, I pulled myself down against Fritz’ clammy frog skin and did my best to get out of the way of the wings, just laying there. I rested, putting my faith in Fritz the frog to keep me safe.
It was hard at first, because I wasn’t accustomed to trusting anyone, even Fritz. But after a few deep breaths, I realized it was basically impossible for me to alter the current situation. Maybe if we came up against some other airborne creature, I could fight. But, otherwise, all I could do was look around and absorb the trip.
Once we got some serious height, Fritz didn’t have to flap quite so often. He could just stretch his wings out and glide on the currents. I had to imagine it was a strange sight. Or, you know, I did until I realized that giant flying frogs could be completely commonplace in Vuldranni. Compared to things like abominaballs or snarrets, or the countless other bizarre creatures I had yet to encounter, Fritz was kind of boring.
Up at our current elevation, it wasn’t particularly warm, and I regretted having given my coat to the egg. But really, what choice did I have in that matter?
The mountain range seemed to extend westward forever. North-south, however, it wasn’t as thick. The terrain beneath us, what I believed to be Mahrduhm, spread out into a valley. Hills seemed to undulate everywhere across it, but nothing too big. Just gentle perturbations, as if water had frozen mid-ripple. There were trees, but they were scattered. Tall brown grass covered everything, save the occasional pool of water, which would have a profusion of green vegetation around it.
Maybe three hours passed before Fritz angled down, and we dropped in a tight spiral, losing altitude fast.
“You okay, bub?” I asked, yelling into the wind.
“Tired.” He croaked back.
I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring pat.
Landing was awkward. Basically, it seemed like he aimed for a small body of water, and then didn’t quite crash in it.
I didn’t fall off, but I did get soaked. We’d landed in something between a pond and a lake. There were no visible inputs or outputs to the little lake, so it was like a giant spring. There were lots of trees around the water, nothing overly tall, and plenty of hills that basically cut off all vision of the outside area. The grass around was a verdant green, and plenty of little animals were chirping about.
As soon as I was off the big ol’ frog, he started gulping water. Maybe even eating the fish or other animals unfortunate enough to be caught in his giant mouthfuls.
I got the egg off my back and did a quick check. No cracks, no movement. I ripped down some cattails, made an impromptu nest, and set it safely in place.
I dug out my really basic fishing rod. Then I set it on the bank and headed over to the first log I saw. I ripped off some of the rotting wood, and uncovered my prey.
Big, fat, juicy looking grubs.
I snatched one that was about the size of my thumb. It wriggled around in my hand — I was a little impressed at the strength it had. But then it bit me. Hard. The damn thing cut right through my skin and took a solid chunk out of my thumb.
“Mother pus bucket,” I howled, throwing the insect to the ground and stomping on it.
It popped under my foot in a spray of guts.
GG! You’ve killed a Dockem Grub (lvl 1 insect)
You’ve earned 50 xp! What a mighty hero you are.
I looked at my thumb and winced at the gruesome mess of it. Now I remembered the noob-gear fish hook, and slid that through another grub. The thing still wriggled, but it couldn’t bite for shit. I walked around the lake a ways, getting over to a spot where the water seemed calmer, and I tossed my line into the water. Then I sat down on the soft grass, and closed my eyes to the sun.
Now, obviously I know it’s preferable to actually watch the bobber, but that’s only if you actually want to catch fish. Sometimes, it’s more about engaging in the act of fishing with the intent of not doing anything else. I just wanted to be busy without being busy. I wanted to—
Something tugged at the grub, and reflexively, I yanked back on the rod, setting the hook.
I opened one eye, and looked down the fishing line. It was zigging back and forth. Something was on the line. I started to reel in carefully. What with my new found strength, I wasn’t used to gauging the force I could put on the line before it broke, so I took it slow. Also, in the back of my mind was the possibility I could pull up some horrific monster from the deep that’d try to eat me as soon as it broke the surface.
Instead, I pulled out a fish. A perfectly normal fish that I guessed was a trout of some variety. It was a good size, with a nice sheen to it. I bopped it on the head with my mace and gave it a good once-over. It smelled good. Nothing untoward about it.
I went over to the water, washed it off, cleaned it out, checked the guts for worms — none —, and then carried the fish back toward Fritz and the egg. Fritz was asleep, and big enough that I couldn’t really see over him.
I set the fish down near him. Then I went over and did the boring job of finding moderately-sized rocks to put in a ring. Then I scrounged around for wood. There were plenty of small trees around the lake, but, interestingly, nothing grew above the level of the hills. I gathered all the dead stuff I could find, and got a good pile near our de facto camp. Finally, fire.
&nb
sp; It was nice to sit by a fire. The sun was setting in the west, and an incredible panoply of colors danced across the sky. I listened to the pops and crackles that sent sparks up into the air. The fish, which I’d splayed out on a green branch, sizzled as it cooked.
My trout was delicious.
The egg seemed fine. Happy. I brought it a little closer to the fire. Being that I had little else to do, I worked on my basket weaving, making a legitimate nest out of reeds to hold the egg upright.
Cool Beans, you learned the skill Weaving. Now you can weave baskets and other things. Maybe even underwater!
It was still ensconced in my coat, which would give the egg as much insulation against the cool night as possible. That, plus keeping a fire going all night, was my plan. Hence all the wood.
It turns out frogs can snore. Or, at least whatever frog Fritz was could snore. It wasn’t horribly loud, just, you know, there. I sat by the fire while the night enveloped us and picked the fish clean, tossing the bones back into the water. Not the best or cleanest possible policy, but I wanted to leave as little smell on the camp as possible. The presence of a fire already worried me. The light and the smoke could easily attract curious types.
When the sky was fully dark, I tossed on a few more logs, checked the egg (still warm and a bit sticky), checked on Fritz (still snoring and a bit clammy), and then grabbed my pilfered mace and gave it a little twirl. I climbed up the nearest hill until I reached the top. It wasn’t much of a climb, forty feet at a maximum. Once up there, though, I got an idea of why nothing was growing above the surrounding hilltops. A ferocious wind whipped across the land, tearing at me. It bent the waist-high grass over nearly horizontal.
I stood there in the wind, looking out at the landscape spread out in front of me, and I tried to make sense of it. It felt like I was standing on the surface of a golf ball. Just little hills as far as I could see, all covered in the high grasses that danced in the heavy wind. And nowhere was there even the hint of light. It was a nigh-on perfect darkness for the little stretch of time between sunset and moons rise. Stars were everywhere above me, and I let myself get lost in stargazing for a moment before settling down to the business of being on watch.