Eastbound and Town: A LitRPG/Gamelit Adventure (The Good Guys Book 8)

by Eric Ugland

  Having little clothing made the wind really fucking annoying, I felt like it was going to freeze my torso off. So instead of taking watch at the top of the hill, I moved a little ways down and to the left, found a gnarled old tree that had a perfect sitting spot, and sat there, doing my best to ignore the scratch of the trunk on my back. Then I waited, and I watched.

  When the fire got low, I’d go down and throw some more wood on. Then I’d do a little warming up, and head back up to my tree. It was dull work, but necessary, and I settled in to the routine for the night.

  Chapter Eight

  Somewhere after the moons crested and started on their way back down, I saw motion. A figure came over a hilltop and slipped in between the trees. Humanoid, about my height, but furry. The thing looked down at the fire, and watched for maybe five minutes. Then it went back the way it’d come.

  I wasn’t sure what to think. Was it a scout? Had the thing decided we were non-threatening and would leave us alone? Or, worse, was it going to tell its buddies they had something to hunt? There was basically nothing to indicate which way the guy was leaning, and I didn’t dare move, just in case it was about to come back. I still had the advantage of surprise, and I didn’t want to lose it.

  So instead, I just readied myself to leap out of the tree if I needed. I extended out my tremorsense to get a better idea of who might be coming, if anyone.

  It was not the best idea.

  The wind caused the grass to dance around like mad, and must’ve also gotten some rocks or something bouncing, because I was getting vibration hits everywhere up above the hilltops. And plenty of small somethings were moving around the lake. Some in the lake. It was too much to filter out, so I dropped it, relying instead on sight.

  Sure enough, about twenty or so minutes later — a completely random guess because I had no way to tell time — another figure crawled over the hilltop and made their way down to a few trees where they posted up. A second figure came shortly after, followed by three more. Five total, all standing in the same set of trees. I could see them chatting with each other, but they were too far away for me to hear even a whisper.

  It was pretty clear they were interested in Fritz, but I couldn’t tell why. They might be hunting him. They might just be curious. Or, they might be worried about a giant frog moving into their territory. I doubt I’d like it if a van-sized frog showed up at my local lake.

  I could just throw down and kill the interlopers, but they hadn’t done anything aggressive yet. I sighed. I didn’t want to kill them because they dared to invade the tiny valley I was sleeping in and looked at my frog (oddly not a euphemism). I was getting soft.

  So instead, I hopped out of my tree, and casually strolled over to them.

  I got reasonably close before anyone in the group saw me.

  The thing called out in surprise. All five spread out, holding out rudimentary bows in their furry hands. Now that I was close up and looking at drawn arrows, I got a better look at them.

  They had somewhat canine heads with big round ears. They were bigger humanoids, not quite my size, but larger than an average human. They wore skins, and had painted themselves with something that must have been symbolic to them. One of them barked out something. I wasn’t sure if it was directed at me or the other creatures, if it was a word in an unknown language or just a noise.

  Regardless, I stopped walking. I put the mace in my belt and held my hands out to the side.

  “Evening,” I said in Mahrduhmese, just in case these guys spoke the local tongue.

  The creatures looked to each other, and the one in the middle lowered his bow so the arrow wasn’t pointed at my face. The others did not lower theirs.

  “This your hunt?” he asked.

  “The big frog is my, uh, companion,” I replied, hoping that word was the right one to use in the case.

  “Companion?”

  “My ride. Steed.”

  “Horse?”

  “I mean, he’s a frog, but—“

  “Big for frog.”

  “Yeah. He is, but I try not to hold that against him.”

  “You are traveler?”

  “Yeah. Just stopping here for the night.”

  One of the other creatures grumbled something, I think trying to be quiet, but failing. I caught just enough of it for Mister Paul’s lovely skill to proc.

  Smashing! You’ve learned a new language, Gray Viveridian.

  “Would it be easier to speak in this tongue?” I asked, in Gray Viveridian.

  The creatures all looked at me.

  “Yes,” the center one said, nodding.

  “Would you like to come sit by the fire?” I asked.

  The center creature looked at the others. I couldn’t discern what communication went between them, but something clearly did, because the center one and one other nodded. Then they took a step forward while the other three quickly darted off back up the hill.

  I tried to ignore the feeling of impending doom as I turned my back on the two strangers and led them down the hill to my little fire. I threw a bit more wood on, and the flames crackled higher, bathing the area in a warm amber light.

  The two creatures sat down cross-legged, and I got a better look at them in the light. There was definitely something canid about them — I’d go so far as to call them dogmen. Not to their face, just in case, but it was an apt descriptor. But there was something more wild about them. Feral. Savage. Their clothes were primitive, lacking things like, you know, fabric or buttons. It was all pelts. It didn’t look like their leather had been tanned so much as the fur had just been whacked off and then put to use. Their bows were similarly primitive. Looking at the branches I was burning, the bows matched. These guys were just using the various materials they found around themselves.

  “So,” I said, “welcome.”

  I dug out the newcomer rations I’d received as part of my back-to-life present, and passed them over.

  They accepted the gifts graciously, then sniffed over them.

  “Poison?” one asked the other in a whisper.

  “You remember he speaks the tongue, yes?” the other one replied.

  The first speaker looked over at me, sheepish.

  “Not poisoned,” I said. “But I regret that I don’t have much to offer you.”

  “It is custom to give gifts to those who share your fire?” the one who had previously been in the center asked.

  “Yep,” I said. I wasn’t necessarily lying, I was just making my own custom up. “We three eat together. It’s a feast of friendship.”

  They smiled. I dug out my last bit of ration, and we all ate. It wasn’t great, hardtack biscuits that made audible snaps when you bit into them, but they were certainly filling.

  “My name is Montana Coggeshall,” I said.

  “Grosh,” Grosh said. Grosh was the guy I’d spoken to first. “He is Gnorph.”

  “Grosh, Gnorph, good to meet you.”

  Gnorph nodded at me, and took another painful-sounding bite of his hardtack.

  “I’m not familiar with the area,” I said. “Anything of note here?”

  “What would be of note?” Grosh asked.

  “Maybe ruins?” Gnorph asked.

  “Sure, ruins sound good,” I said. “Where are these ruins?”

  Gnorph pointed, and Grosh smacked Gnorph on the back of the head. Gnorph promptly changed the direction he was pointing to the opposite one.

  “Gnorph is not good with directions,” Grosh said.

  “What kind of ruins are they?” I asked.

  “Haunted,” Gnorph said. “Full of ghosts.”

  “Treasure?”

  Gnorph nodded, Grosh shrugged.

  “It is not known,” Grosh said. “None who goes in, comes out.”

  “That’s interesting,” I said. “Big ruins?”

  Grosh nodded. “It is the remains of a city from the ancients. Two days walk to the north, you will see the walls. The things inside the walls do not leave, but it is v
ery bad inside. Many of our tribe have died there. The young think treasure inside will bring them luck, but it only brings death.”

  “Gnonarth the Great came out,” Gnorph said. “He brought out the sword which made him the greatest hero of our tribe.”

  “Gnonarth the Great stole the sword from a caravan,” Grosh countered. “He is a liar and a coward.”

  “You say that because you are jealous,” Gnorph said. “The matron chose him as hero over you.”

  “He can have the job. I have no desire to be the hero.”

  “Everyone wants to be the hero.”

  “I am happy to be a hunter. Less fighting.”

  “Fighting is the greatest honor for any—“

  “Fighting is the activity of youth and fools. I am neither any longer. I prefer to return home. See my mate, my cubs.”

  “Bah, you are old and boring,” Gnorph said.

  “Lots to be said for old and boring,” I interjected.

  “You are a fighter,” Grosh said.

  “Are you a hero?” Gnorph asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “What’s a hero?”

  “A hero leads the defense of the tribe,” Grosh said. “The first into battle, the last to return home.”

  “Yeah, I guess that defines me. But it’s not a job I’d take if I didn’t have to. I do it so others aren’t put in harm’s way.”

  Grosh pointed at me, but looked to Gnorph: “This one has the right reason of it. Hero is not the position of honor. It is not the place where one lies about stuffing his face with our kills so he gets fat. Gnonarth is a lazy coward. He is only able to be the hero because Gnarg has blessed our region with peace these seasons. Soon, the trials will return, and we will reap the pains of making Gnonarth our hero.”

  “Pardon me for saying, but Gnornarth sounds like a dick,” I said.

  Grosh laughed. He pulled something out of his pack. Dried meat. He passed a strip of it over to me, then one over to Gnorph.

  I chewed on it, and it was okay. Bit of spice to it.

  Then Grosh stood up, and bowed his head a little to me.

  “I will report to my matron that a friend is passing through our lands,” he said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

  I stood up, and bowed my head to him.

  “You guys are welcome at my fire any time,” I said.

  He nodded at me, and gestured at Gnorph.

  Gnorph stuffed the rest of the meat into his mouth (again, not a euphemism), and stood. He bowed and said something, but it got lost through his full mouth.

  “Nice to meet you as well, Gnorph,” I said.

  He smiled a doggy smile. Then the two climbed out of my little lake valley, and ventured back into the night.

  I sat down by the fire, tossed a few more logs on, and rested there for a little while, just enjoying the warmth and the feeling that I had, perhaps, made some friends that night. At the very least, I didn’t kill people just because. I’d spoken with strangers and it turned out all right.

  Then, because I’m still a bit of a paranoid fuckhead, I went back to my tree, climbed back up, and resumed my watch.

  Chapter Nine

  We were back up in the air around dawn. When Fritz the frog woke up, he took another dunk in the lake, drank a bunch of water. I strapped my egg back on, and then we were off. We had another rough take-off where Fritz beat the shit out of me with his wings and I hung on to his gross clammy skin for dear life. But once again, when we got to height, it was amazing.

  When we were just below the clouds, I could see the ruins to the north. It was a huge city, a dark blight on the land. I tapped on Fritz’s head. He rotated one eye around to look at me in a way that wasn’t at all creepy or disgusting. Why couldn’t Typhon make cute monsters? I pointed over at the ruins, and Fritz angled that way.

  As we got closer, I could see that the land flattened out in this direction. I suppose that made sense as to why the city had been built there. It was massive — even at our height, it seemed to stretch out forever. It was constructed mostly out of dark rock, and whomever had built the place had done so in a very regimented style. The city spread out on a nearly perfect grid, and quite a few of the buildings were still intact. Or at least they were intact enough to look whole from above.

  “Land outside,” I shouted at Fritz.

  He didn’t respond, but given that he tucked his wings in and cannonballed downward, I’m pretty sure he picked up what I was putting down. And soon enough, I got put down just outside one of the large gates.

  At ground level, the black brick of the walls had a remarkably ominous feeling to it. Just waves of wrong flowing over me. There was a large door on the gate that hung off a single hinge. Somehow the wood was still intact, but it was very weathered and grey. The tall grass grew right up to the edges of the wall, but there weren’t any trees nearby.

  Slowly, and feeling mild apprehension, I walked up to the gate, and peered around the door. There was a stark transition between the dirt and grass of outside and the dark cobblestones of the road inside. It’s not like the ruins were an obvious dead-zone or anything like that —there was dirt inside, and grass was growing in a few places — but I could feel the weird vibe of the place. Also, I had the distinct feeling of being watched.

  “Feels. Bad.” Fritz croaked out.

  “I know,” I replied, not looking back at the frog, my attention fully on the street inside the ruins. “But I’m really fucking curious.”

  “Egg.” Fritz said.

  “Egg?”

  “Egg.”

  I looked over my shoulder at the giant egg, and wondered where to put it if I decided to go exploring the ruins. Nowhere leapt out at me. I could get Fritz to watch it, or I could bring it with me—

  “Late. Er.”

  “It’s a bit far from home, bub,” I said. “You really think we’re going to make it all the way back here?”

  “You. Boss. Or. Not?” He asked.

  Leave it to a fucking frog to ask the important questions.

  “Yeah,” I snapped, walking back over to Fritz, and going through the rigamarole of climbing back onto him. “Don’t let me forget.”

  “Do. Not. For. Get.”

  “Oh perfect, thanks.”

  “No. Prob. Lem.”

  He leapt into the air in a violent hop, and then beat his wings fiercely to get us into the sky. Once at height, I looked back over my shoulder at the ruins, curiosity just eating me up inside. I wanted to go explore so badly. And yet, fucking Fritz was right — it wasn’t the time.

  It was something at odds with the idea of this as a game. If this were a true game, I’d definitely have gone off on the side-quest, explore the ruins and find magic items and treasure and whatever. Level up by killing some monsters. But here there was a clock that didn’t ever seem to stop. I had people who were depending on me to make their lives safe. As much as I wanted to pop off and have fun, I just couldn’t.

  Chapter Ten

  We settled into a routine pretty quickly. Fritz would get tired in the middle of the day, and we’d stop for a little break, then hop back up into the sky for another round of flying in the afternoon. It’d be shorter than the morning hop, but we still made good distance. Each night, we’d find some sort of water source, and then Fritz would drink and swim and I would fish or forage. The egg would sit there and be an egg. It had the best job on the trip, if you ask me.

  The meals I had were actually getting pretty damn good, and I noticed that I got a new skill.

  Cool Beans, you’ve learned the skill Campfire Cooking. Cook over an open flame without burning food.

  That was nice. Plus there was a dramatic uptick in food quality as soon as I had the skill. I just seemed to know how to cook over an open flame or coals better. And, as I foraged more and more, I got a boost in that skill as well.

  Cool Beans! You’ve leveled up the skill Foraging. You have a greater chance of finding ripe and safe-to-eat food!

  And then I start
ed finding more and more stuff. Mushrooms that I knew would be okay, and berries that would not. It was actually kind of a fun little aspect of life in Vuldranni.

  I also liked getting to see the landscape of Mahrduhm, or at least what I assumed was Mahrduhm. It wasn’t as if I had a map, or anyone to explain the political boundaries of the place to me. As we traveled, the intense small hills gave way to larger rolling hills. Still covered with the long grass, but now with more trees. Also the grass wasn’t quite as dry, and I saw more rivers and lakes.

  Getting home was very much on my mind, for one major thing, I was worried about Skeld. I’d thrown him through the portal back into the sacrificial cave of the Corrupted Ones in the Valley of Spears. Sounds a bit gruesome, but I was pretty sure it was mainly because the tall trees piercing through the perpetual hot springs fog looked a bit like spears. And he’d been pretty fucked up. I wasn’t sure what state he’d actually been in, health wise, when he reemerged. And Bear Snowgust, brownie spellslinger, was pretty much an unknown, both in personality and skills. I had no idea if she’d be able to heal Skeld, either via magical or non-magical means. And Skeld was only the tip of that iceberg of worry. What was Nikolai doing? How was Nikolai doing? Had Ragnar gotten back to Coggeshall safely traversing along the Royal Road? Were the minotaurs any trouble? Were the wounded he took back healed? There were so many questions, and absolutely no answers. But one thing I knew, the longer I took to get home, the worse I’d probably find things.

  On the seventh day, we saw a small town. Fritz wasn’t super keen on going closer to civilization, but I was getting tired of my current clothing options, and as much as it pained me to admit it, Fritz wasn’t exactly a keen conversationalist. It had been a lonely week. Fritz landed in a copse of trees around a small spring, and announced he was going to take a nap. Clearly, he wasn’t going to come into town with me. Which, you know, fine by me. Not like bringing a monster frog to town was going to do me any favors. I left the egg behind, wrapped up in my coat, and set off on a short walk.