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Chapter 72 - TFF
🕑 Added 2023-11-27 11:52:57 +0000 UTCAUTHOR'S NOTE: I will be posting at strange times during the work week. Free time is never guaranteed. Most days I will try to do it earlier, rather than later.
There are a few chapters of world building and some character introductions until things pick up again. Hope you enjoyed the Dungeon arc!
***
The walk wasn’t long or eventful.
Alan was managing to act fine in front of Ashlyn and the people they interacted with. He suspected Ash knew he was faking. However, Florence’s death was still playing on repeat in his mind. It had been such a simple interaction. From the reveal to her death. No grand speeches, or convincing on his part—only a knife through the heart.
She had been a confused girl he had liked who turned out to have lost herself to her class. He was not sure in what way [Warlock] was influencing him, but he was sure it was. It had to. Was he a worse person? Was accepting the death of others so easily a part of the package that came with his class choice?
Although it seemed that Ashlyn was doing even better than him on that front, or she had grown able to fool him.
No. Not Ash.
She was his anchor to whatever was left of his old self. It was a weak, broken, and very insecure self that acted mean to scare away anything that could harm him, but it was who he still was. He was still not that far from that broken boy, but at least now he could throw his literal darkness at stuff and cut with it. Ha! Talk about metaphors.
Or maybe he had fucked the class path so badly by going the way he had, that it still couldn’t catch up? That was possible. Old Greyheart, the bastard, had alluded to a lot. Why did old people always talk in riddles? Probably to let him learn from his own mistakes. Something he was quite bad at.
He still didn’t understand what that Flow bullshit was. Questions fucking questions.
They found the Elven Trunk easily enough after Tullis excitedly showed them the general direction. The man loved the tavern and it was another place where the gangs were prohibited from entering.
It was largely due to the owner whom everyone seemed to be afraid of. Alan was looking forward to the distraction. His mind was a mess.
Not as big of a mess as the place though. Mr. Muge’s tower was an architectural wonder compared to what stood in front of them.
The Elven Trunk was a bit further into the Sanctuary, bordering the abandoned ruins that were too small or weird for people to live in.
It was another large building. Of sorts.
Concrete and wood took turns and merged in strange shapes and patterns as if there had been a freak sewing accident of magical proportions. The building was very large but created the illusion of falling unto itself at every moment. An illusion because against all odds, it stood tall.
It had multiple floors and large terraces on both sides. And a roof over the third floor of the main building that was currently blowing in the wind because it was a single piece of strange tarp held by ropes.
There were smaller buildings seemingly stuck into the main one, creating large twisting two-story wings.
The door at the very front was wide open and welcoming and laughter and voices were carrying over from the inside.
And something else which made both of them stop in their tracks before hurrying their steps.
Music.
It was a simple song on some sort of string instrument that sounded vaguely like a guitar, and yet it was the most beautiful thing in the world at that very moment. Alan missed music a lot. Who would want to be a magical warrior in a world where fantasies lived, without music? Only someone insane.
The song was silly – something about a hedgehog outsmarting a rabbit. The words were a jumbled mess that didn’t rhyme at all, but whoever was singing had a beautiful voice and somehow made it work. A children’s tale turned song.
Alan walked in and Ashlyn followed.
The inside was much what one would expect from a proper tavern. There were round tables, barrels, and card games. Glowing jars hung from the ceiling beams casting soft yellow light around the great hall. A large fireplace burned with orange flames, raging upon a single log of firewood that seemed to not care in the slightest about the fire, remaining barely charred.
Either the flames were magical or the wood special – a mystery to be sure.
There were stairs on the left of the bar leading to a second floor. The craftsmanship of everything was simply amazing, once again convincing Alan that magic was the best. He almost envied those who had gotten creative classes. His was quite straightforward and boring in comparison.
However, most importantly, on a stool in one of the less cluttered corners under glowing lights of different colors, was a tall stool upon which sat a young man. He wore a leather hat vaguely resembling a style Alan recognized from movies – a bowler. He was almost surprised when the name of the hat appeared in his mind.
There was a strange and large yellow and green feather tucked into the bowler hat that reflected the lights and changed hues in rhythm with the head movements of the man.
He wore a goatee styled with finesse only comparable to the one his fingers exercised upon a five-string guitar-like instrument. It was a fascinating sound unlike anything Alan had heard, and he found himself smiling. The music washed away a lot of the stress and stopped the torrent of thoughts in their tracks.
Humans can really be amazing.
It made him aware of his beard now though. He rubbed on the coarse hair. How did the singer maintain his beard? That was something to look into.
Come to think of it, Walter was clean-shaven too. He would ask around.
A few patrons of the tavern threw glances in their direction, but everyone was either too focused on the musician or their mugs and conversations.
Alan respectfully took an empty chair after pulling one out for Ashlyn and waited for the song to stop.
A woman barreled straight toward them and loomed over their table. She was tall and imposing and her dark skin looked particularly smooth under the tavern light. Her black hair fell in shiny slightly curling strands and reached the middle of a generous chest. Alan tried not to stare and lifted a brow at the large sheath diagonally hung on her waist and the bracer on her hand glowing with the sign of active enchantment.
“What’s it gonna be?” she asked.
That’s the waitress? Her clothes made her look more like a modern pirate, than staff. It worked quite well with the look of messy beauty she had achieved.
“Uh, what do you offer?”
The woman looked at him as if he was an idiot, then loudly exhaled, before her eyes became steel. “You new here? You with one of the gangs?” Her voice carried all over, overpowering the sounds of chatter and music.
The musician hit the wrong string and stopped, creating an atmosphere that reminded Alan of old Westerns. Each of the patrons of the tavern took their cue to turn and glare at Alan and Ashlyn with evident hostility and expectation.
“Uhm, no?” Ashlyn said. Alan shook his head, eloquently supporting her statement.
The waitress stared at them for a few moments before deciding, “Fine. We got two types of booze, meat, and stew with weird veggies and stuff. Oh, and since the other day we got wonderbread. It's bread, but it’s made kind of magically, so it’s called wonderbread. We got fruit too but we use it to make booze.”
“How do we pay?” Alan asked. There was no currency and he was certain no one would be silly enough to ask for items.
The waitress shrugged, “Beats me. Monster cores, products we don’t have, information, favors, or nothing. If you chose nothing then we write down what you owe and we expect you to pay once we have something akin to a currency going.”
“That’s… a hopeful method.”
“Eh, who cares? So?”
“If you have beer I will have one, with some stew and wonderbread,” Alan said.
“Same for me,” Ashlyn added.
“Sure thing.”
The woman was gone and the music was back on as if nothing had happened. Alan saw a few disappointed faces. There were not that many patrons, but each one stood out. They had the look of people who were doing good in the apocalypse. Alan wondered how well he would fare against some of them. His [Synaptic Failure] was straight broken against humans, at least so far, but not perfect at all.
And the variety of classes and skills was only growing.
Few caught his attention, but he was trying not to stare. A particular girl was sitting on one of the emptier tables in the darker part of the tavern. Hood up, nose in a piece of parchment that looked quite strange. It was almost as if that part of the tavern was intentionally made to look the part of a shady corner, catering to people who wanted to appear mysterious.
It was hard to tell what her features were, but Alan felt sort of a kinship when he looked toward her. It was a strange feeling, coming from somewhere different than his intuition.
Is it… my class?
Was she a warlock or something similar? That was possible. His class was neither unique nor looked like it was very special. He was certain there were others. Maybe his chosen path was unique though, as few would have access to a skill like [One Mind, One Body].
The ‘waitress’ returned with the food and put some nicely carved wooden bowls that were as large as a salad bowl in front of them. The stew was steaming, and Alan noticed strange vegetables and two types of meat – one translucent and juicy, reminding him of the jewel lizards from the lake, the other darker and porky. The mugs were also wooden and well-crafted and filled with clear amber liquid with a thin layer of foam on top.
“Still working on the beer. So, names?” she asked.
“I’m Alan, this is Ashlyn.”
“Hm, you’re the second Alan. The first one’s death though. I will put you down as Alan two unless you have something against that?”
“Uh, put me down for what exactly?”
“That you ate for free.”
Alan looked toward Ashlyn and she nodded. They had talked it out on the way over. Meeting with the person who managed to keep the gangs at bay was a good idea if they were to try and save Emmerson. And the whole situation with the leader choice…
The System wanted them to choose a leader, though and there were a bit more than two days left. Deciding the direction in which the Sanctuary would develop was a major thing. Still seemed like a job. Alan didn’t want a job.
“We can share some information that might be interesting, if disappointing to whoever decided on the name of this place.”
The waitress's eyebrow shot up.
“Eat, then come to the bar. And bring your bowls with you.”
She walked off and hit some large guy behind the head on the way, scolding him for something. The man only mumbled an apology and when she was far enough his companions started mocking him.
Alan had underestimated the Sanctuary and its people once again. His paranoia instantly tried to take over and start nagging in the back of his mind about the effects of his ‘evil’ class and how he would follow Florence’s example.
The music quickly washed all that away and Alan enjoyed the surprisingly delicious stew and the delicious ‘beer’ to the fullest. It was the most pleasant time he’d spent in a while. Alan and Ashlyn chatted about some good old times while eating, smiling, and forgetting their troubles or the blood behind their backs and on their hands.
They savored every moment, but finally, it was time to do what they had come for and meet even more new people. There was a large wooden crate filled with dirty dishes and Alan looked around for guidance before putting the two bows inside. They took the mugs with them.
The bar was much more polished and well-crafted than the one in Mr. Muge’s place. A few beast skulls were adorning the wall behind and below them were rows of wooden and glass bottles neatly arranged, giving the feeling that this place was not only a few weeks old.
They waited for someone to appear while taking in the details. There was no trace of the waitress. Alan threw a few curious glances toward the girl in the dark part of the hall and finally managed to catch a glimpse of her eyes, as they met his.
They almost glowed in a strange emerald light but they were also sunken and hazy. Almost sickly, like the rest of her skin. She also had some sort of dark makeup on, which startled Alan. It was a weird thing to focus on makeup post the apocalypse, but he too valued style quite highly. Curious. The feeling of familiarity returned stronger than ever.
“This place is awesome,” Ashlyn suddenly said and Alan turned away from the weird girl. He was very curious about her, and it seemed she shared the same feeling.
A bald man finally came out from the back room and smiled widely under a bushy mustache. “Thanks! Me and my brother made almost all of it. Well, a [Builder] helped. My brother is the [Designer] though and did wonders with the light. You should check out the upper floors sometime.”
“There’s a [Designer] class?”
“Oh, yeah. There are all kinds of weird classes popping up as people level up by doing weird stuff. Can you believe there is a guy running around and catching rats? Ha! He’s got all sorts of strange skills.”
Huh.
The man looked around and leaned over the counter as if he was about to share a secret. His mustache twitched excitedly, “There’s a rumor that there’s a guy that can get you high as a kite with just a touch. I’ve been trying to ask around and find him, but no luck. Heard anything?”
Alan shook his head with all the seriousness he could muster. “No. But do tell me when you find him.”
The man squinted his eyes and slowly nodded his head, raising a fist in a gesture of understanding. Alan bumped the fist. He could feel Ashlyn’s eye roll without looking, but she seemed to be enjoying the strange interaction nonetheless.
“Name’s Arley.” The man said after the moment passed. “[Brewer] with some carpentry skills. Booze is more my thing though; hope you enjoyed it.” He nodded towards their mugs.
“Ashlyn. It’s the best I’ve tried,” Ashlyn introduced herself and Alan nodded.
“Yep. And I’m Alan.”
The man beamed then seemed to fall in thought, “Alan? Didn’t Alan die?”
“So I’ve heard.”
“So, you are Alan two? Ah, I will change it to Cool Alan,” Arley winked.
“Uh, sure.”
“Come, come. Rosalyn will pull my mustache hair by hair if I keep you occupied much longer.”
He gestured for them to follow and disappeared into the back room.
They followed.
