AbyssalRoadTrip
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Abyssal Road Trip - 572 - Guidance
🕑 Added 2025-11-29 03:08:05 +0000 UTCAmdirlain’s PoV - Vehtë - Laški
Though heavily muscled, Gurn moved in near silence beside her, his powers absorbing the sound of his chain shirt. Despite his green skin and slightly jutting tusks, the looming presence the Orc possessed and his Waylander Prestige Class reminded Amdirlain of Torm. She cut off a mental snort at the thought and walked on in silence.
It’s an unresolved issue; the slightest similarity is a reminder. I’ll probably always believe there is something I could have done to help them avoid that trap. I can only hope he is doing well in his new life.
“You going to tell me what job you’re doing in the sewers, Elf?”
“Killing some slimes,” Amdirlain replied. “I’ll stop at the first entryway.”
“Zivena entrusted you with a key?”
“I do not need a key,” Amdirlain said. “I’ve walked past the warded entrances, and I’ve sufficient spells to open them. Are slimes not an issue on the east side?”
“The lord pays more to keep this side clear,” Gurn muttered.
“Let me guess,” Amdirlain pointed off towards the fancier district. “Is his home among those bloated mansions?”
A wide, toothy grin accompanied the brightening of Gurn’s yellow gaze.
“No matter. Do you plan to share your map once we leave town or before?”
Gurn tapped his temple. “I’ve got a mapping ability from my Ranger Class.”
“That doesn’t help me navigate.”
“I’ll point out the way to landmarks ahead of us as we fly along,” Gurn replied.
Not at the speed I’d planned to travel. I’ll just hop us there if I can find it.
“Give me some clues, or I’ll fly east instead. Is that settlement in the mountains to the west, or somewhere else?”
“Follow the forest edge to the west. When it gets into the foothills, it retreats northward. A distance along that curve in the forest line is a narrow valley with a waterfall that drops onto a mass of rocks. They’ve been told to leave several times, as the closest lord didn’t want the headache of protecting it,” Gurn clarified. “The notes on the job showed the closer guild halls passed it east.”
Amdirlain scanned the region and found a few places that fit, but only one had a tribe of hobgoblins nearby. The presence of a Priest of Tiamat, along with an adolescent blue Dragon in their caves, drew a frown. She quickly gathered information from the minds of those working in the valley and confirmed the match.
This is the second time I’ve found a Human who worships Tiamat dwelling among monsters.
Amdirlain nudged Universal Communication to shift from Slavic to his native tongue. “The furthest Human village I know about in that region has herds of goats and scattered terraces cut into the valley sides for crops?”
Gurn’s thick brows lifted in surprise. “They had goats the last time I passed that way on a job. How do you know about it?”
“Do you think the Taurë ignore those who live close to the forest? The forest stops only on the eastern ridgeline of their valley because of the rocky ground. They’ve an agreement that lets them harvest some trees each season.” Amdirlain turned onto the western road towards the bridge.
“Fine, but finish your other job first. Have you dealt with a sewer before?”
“I’m sure it isn’t pleasant.”
He grunted in amusement. “Avoid any open flames when you first open the door. It’s best to let the air clear first. Even then, pockets of foul air can surprise you if you venture far. Lots of moss grows along the ledges beside the main trough. Some of it is toxic, so don’t touch it with your bare skin, and if you can’t burn it away, step carefully as it’s slippery.”
“You take your supervisor role seriously.”
“I do it right, so I don’t waste effort,” Gurn responded.
“I’ll keep a bubble of clean air around us at the entry. There will be no need to venture inside.”
“Good, the places are putrid.”
Silence sat between them until they crossed the stone bridge. She traced a fingertip along the near-seamless joins of the stones that formed the bridge’s siding. “Do all Human towns use dwarven masons for their bridges?”
“It figures an Elf would know nothing about stonework. Dwarves have taught humans masonry since the early days of the Republic. They’ve got a place in northern Crete where they accredit new masters.” Gurn guffawed, drawing the attention of other pedestrians.
“Is it such common knowledge?”
“I asked a journeyman travelling there for testing and heard far more than I wanted to know. Are you going to the first sewer entrance, or do you need a different one?”
“Zevina showed me the entrance on a map.”
“You can read a map without turning it? I mean, you remind me of other prim elves I’ve met that were hopeless with maps.”
She ignored his response, and the way Gurn’s lips twitched gleefully.
They walked on quietly and, once past the far end of the bridge, the streets grew busier. Yet the crowds of labourers hauling goods that Amdirlain had slipped through earlier parted for Gurn like a bow wave before a speeding boat. He let her lead the way when she turned into a wide alley between apartment blocks.
An angular stone hut that jutted up from the ground against the side of a building that marked the entrance to the sewer. The flight of stairs that it covered led down to a narrow metal door, secured with a heavy padlock. Though there was a ward on the door, Amdirlain carefully slipped it aside. When she had enough separation to avoid triggering it, she manipulated the padlock with a rudimentary Spell from Unbarring Ways. A clean click sounded from the padlock, and Amdirlain unhooked it.
“There wasn’t even a buzz from the barrier. Was it there, or did a dumper break it?”
“It’s still there, but I’ve kept it calm. Do they have trouble with people dumping in the sewers?”
“I’ve heard it happens. The major problem in most places is that thieves use them to smuggle stolen or illegal goods past the guards.”
Keeping hold of the padlock, she set an air barrier in place and then yanked the door open with a sharp tug on the latch. Mundane green slime and mould covered the stairs down to a ledge. A narrow bridge crossed a wastewater channel, and narrow ledges ran along either side of it in both directions.
I wouldn’t want to be a low-level adventurer taking on this work.
A stream of waist-high zephyrs leapt through the opening and split off to race away down the sewer tunnel. The first returned in a few seconds, dropping a brown rot slime at the base of the stairs. Its murky, greenish-brown core yanked from the ooze and slapped against her outstretched palm, only to disappear into a storage ring that glowed on her thumb. With the core removed, the slime’s surface tension fragmented, and the gelatinous fluids joined the sewer waters. A glow atop the filth signalled a Spell that forced the mingled waters and slime away from them, dropping the channel’s level. A wave from the left signalled that one of her spells had caught something unusual before a wall of noxious green ooze arrived at the base of the stairs.
The massive slime soon filled the entire doorway and the corridor down to the bridge. A bubble of air yanked it towards her and, though the stone was unharmed, its contact with the steel etched the metal frame with a toxic hiss. The sharp sound had Gurn stepping back, a glowing short spear appearing in his hand. Even as its leading edge bulged towards them, it died just as fast as the others, with its core ejected into her grasp. A flurry of smaller ones followed, and perished in a near constant stream as their cores leapt to Amdirlain’s palm.
“How many are you planning to kill?” Gurn asked.
“Fifty for the job bonus and another hundred for cores to experiment with,” Amdirlain replied.
Gurn grunted unhappily. “Wizards. You’re handling cores coming out of those awful things barehanded?”
Amdirlain fixed him with a sharp look. “They’re already purified when I extract them.”
Eventually, the flood of various coloured slimes started to taper off, with her spells only having snatched up the closest. Though there were hundreds more in the tunnels, Amdirlain left them to the low-level folks.
An unpleasant and dangerous foe if taken lightly, but it’s a source of experience.
After closing the door and locking it up, Amdirlain nodded at Gurn. “Right, let’s go.”
“We should get clear of town before we fly anywhere unless you want the archers to react.”
Amdirlain teleported them further up the slope from the waterfall at the north end of the narrow valley with sparse foliage. A couple of kilometres downstream, where it widened into a natural pond, lay a few dozen thatch huts and a few herds of goats. The remnants of a stone wall enclosed the huts, and flames had destroyed the hut closest to the collapsed section of the outer wall opposite the stream. Outside the wall, plots of crops dotted the valley floor haphazardly, wherever there was enough fertile land between scattered rocks to make it worth the effort to farm. The fields on the western side of the valley were stripped of late-season crops or burned to stubble.
“Marcin didn’t say you had the Spatial Affinity,” Gurn muttered.
“There are various transportation spells that don’t need it.” Amdirlain pointed to the collection of rough huts in the valley beneath them. “Does that look to be the right place?”
“It does, but this stinks. There isn’t enough damage, but also too much for me to believe they were holding their own. Unless an experienced adventurer settled with them, they’re still too small a place to survive against Hobgoblin raids capable of ripping down rock walls.”
“Their suffering is bait.”
Gurn shot Amdirlain a sideways glance. “Glad you figured it out. Some folks I’d have to use small words. Tell me what you’re seeing to draw that conclusion.”
“It’s pretty apparent that the wall couldn’t keep out a dozen hobgoblins. They’ve only burned down one hut, yet multiple fields were set alight on the same night from the look of them. The wooden bridge across the stream is still intact, but the village is on the western side.”
“That doesn’t explain why you think it’s bait.”
“Their wall is down with no sign of corpses being burnt or buried. They bloodied the settlement but didn’t slaughter them, so they’d call for help. I’d say the Hobgoblin’s leader is counting on adventurers with equipment who might come to deal with any raids. If they keep the pressure light enough, they can collect equipment from killing teams and get experience before they retreat into the mountains. There are two scouts at the end of the valley watching the path in and only one watching the settlement.”
“Hobgoblins are more militaristic than their smaller kin. Here, they picked a place that was too small to draw the aid they expected,” Gurn grunted.
“Or this is a trial run,” Amdirlain countered. “The person in command might want to see how well their troops follow orders.”
“You should go down to confirm and talk to the person who posted the job first. Let them know you’ve arrived, and you’re from the guild. They’ll need to sign off that you completed the work, and might have specific requirements to prove the job is done.”
“Do you get that often?”
“All the bloody time when I was new. I brought back ears, and they want hands instead, or a particular Goblin’s head, as that was the one that killed someone special, you know? Now, no matter how urgent they claim their job is, I get the required proof in writing. If they won’t give me that or have someone sign what I write up, then I’ve found it better to walk. That sort of rot is a clear sign they’re going to take advantage of you if you come back beat up.”
Amdirlain skipped across the boulders as she picked her way to the closest house. Despite his bulk, Gurn followed smoothly, his gaze continually moving.
“Doesn’t the guild do something about it?”
“They do, but revenge doesn’t bring back a dead teammate,” Gurn replied. “There has been talk of requiring full payment for jobs in advance and the guild releasing funds on completion. Yet the lords and other nobility have fought them on it.”
Silvery threads of condensed air shot from Amdirlain’s hand and blurred out of sight.
“What was that?”
“I didn’t want the scouts to deliver any news,” Amdirlain replied. “If we need to, we’ll go chat with them afterwards and see if they’ll provide information. If we need to, I’ve got other scrying spells looking for signs.”
“They’ll not speak any civilised tongue.”
“I’ve already shown my fluency in the Orc tongue, so I clearly know barbaric languages,” Amdirlain retorted lightly.
“Long ear,” Gurn huffed.
“Oh, I’m wounded! Did you pay someone to write that out for you in advance?”
Gurn muttered under his breath, and though Amdirlain made out every good-natured grumble, she didn’t comment.
“What else have your spells found?”
“I’ve already found the hobgoblins’ lair, so I’ll Teleport us straight there after we chat with them. Or would you prefer to fly?”
“I’d like to see how I get somewhere. How many detection spells are you running?”
“Eight. Air Affinity spells are handy for scouting. And other things,” Amdirlain acknowledged.
“Let me know when you’ve learnt how many hobgoblins are nearby.”
“It’ll take me time, Boss,” Amdirlain fluttered her eyelids.
Gurn snorted in disbelief.
She grinned a breath later. “Fifty-six warriors, equipped in leather armour with bows and spears, twenty-four sows, and a hundred and twenty-seven younglings. They’re under the command of a Human Priest and an adolescent Blue Dragon. Nothing major, and easy for reconnaissance spells to locate.”
He stopped on top of a rock. “You shouldn’t underestimate a Dragon regardless of its age. We should withdraw and take these people with us.”
“I’ve got spells to protect against electricity, so its breath weapon is meaningless. It’s not the job these folks hired me to do, but I can sell the Dragon corpse; that will be worth far more than they’ll pay.”
I hope I get the Dragon to change its ways? Or will its instincts always prove too strong a guidance for its Soul?
The presence of Tiamat’s Priest had already warranted a conversation between her primary form in the Outlands and the chaotic Primordial. The Abyssal Primordial had dismissed her Priest’s fate into Amdirlain’s hands.
“How has it not already noticed your spells? And what are you going to do with the younglings?”
“Are you supervising every aspect of what I do or just the results and how I treat the guild’s customers?”
“The latter, but I’d still like to know.”
“I plan to kill all the monsters threatening this place so someone else doesn’t need to do the same again with their descendants. There might always be more monsters, but this way no one will have to worry about this lot.”
“You’re colder than I’d expected from a Taurë Elf.”
“Not cold so much as pragmatic. Goblins and their monstrous kin are incapable of changing their villainous natures. If I send the young fleeing, most will probably die a slow death from starvation. The strongest will survive, with cruelty and malice etched deeper into their bones. Thus, leaving them alive will cause undue suffering and get someone killed.”
Muse told me about gods duplicating my trials, but do I need to extend them further? I think the question is: why did I make soulless monsters who can’t better themselves beyond their instincts? Is it something in the memories I’ve not yet regained, or was it to provide challenging foes that people could fight without guilt?
“And the Priest?”
“He made his bed; now he can die in it. Do we approach the village openly or sneak up?”
“It’ll raise a fuss either way, but best not to get on people’s nerves from the start. I’m curious to see how badly they botch handling our arrival. Are you confident you can kill those your spells have found?”
“Yes.”
“Then it doesn’t matter.” Gurn started forward again at a casual pace, and Amdirlain wound her way across the boulders littering the landscape.
They travelled on in silence until they were a kilometre from the nearest wall. A lookout atop it began to thrash with a handbell, causing a metallic ring to roll through the valley.
As the noise continued, Gurn shook his head. “Great, it’s one of those places; Prepared in the worst possible way. We’re obviously not hobgoblins.”
“It would be fine if we were an enemy force approaching.”
“Yeah, you don’t want a short signal drowned out by daily chores.”
Amdirlain lifted a hand high and gave a large overhead wave. “Okay, so this is just an attention-grabbing racket to you. Do you normally educate them?”
The man put the bell down and turned to talk to someone on the wall behind him.
“I’ll speak with whoever is in charge after you’ve killed the hobgoblins,” Gurn murmured. “Adventurers who are grumpy about their lives being endangered are memorable.”
He didn’t answer my question.
“Enjoy,” Amdirlain replied.
They continued in silence until they were at the base of the wall. The wall was only four metres high, made of uneven river stones with scaffolding behind for people to stand on. Peering down at them was a thin young man with an unloaded crossbow resting on the wall beside him.
“You’ve not come at the best of times, strangers.”
“Can we speak to someone in charge?” Amdirlain asked. “You sent a messenger about hobgoblins.”
The man turned and bellowed that adventurers had arrived, and Gurn groaned beside her.
It doesn’t really matter to me, but for someone else, it might bring their death.
“Thanks for killing the last shred of surprise we might have had,” Gurn drawled. “You already attracted enough attention with that stupid bell.”
“What?”
He casually pointed towards the western ridgeline. “Do you think monsters can’t hear? You could get a novice adventurer killed by giving their presence away. The bell was bad enough.”
“You could have been with the hobgoblins for all I know when I sounded the alarm. We’ve seen a man with them, giving orders from the back,” the guard snapped. “How do I know you are even adventurers with the guild? You’ve not come from the direction of the Human lands.”
Amdirlain held up her copper identification card and then put it away. When Gurn flashed a gold card, the guard froze and swallowed hard.
“If you’re worried we’re with them, why is your crossbow unloaded?” Gurn asked. He smoothly leapt over the wall and the guard, landing on the other side.
“Mind if I come inside the wall?” Amdirlain asked innocently as the man scrambled to load his bow. “I wouldn’t do that unless you plan to annoy him more.”
Amdirlain turned into smoke, flowed up the wall, passed the guard and reformed beside Gurn. “Why do I have to be the reasonable one?”
He eyed her with amusement and flexed his massive arms. “Do I look reasonable?”
“In that case, if you are going to chew someone out for things not being done right, you should first educate them. Think about what I asked before. How often does the Adventurers’ Guild come to places like this to teach?”
Gurn blinked at her. “I don’t know? Maybe never.”
“Then educate without the insults first.”
Though families peered through shutters and gaps in walls, only one person stepped forward. A white-haired man with hazel eyes, his face heavily lined but his posture still ramrod straight, emerged from the shadow of a nearby hut. His solid, rounded jawline attested to his Norse heritage before he spoke.
“I’m Elder Félagi. You’re from the guild?”
“Yes, we’re aware of your Hobgoblin problem. We wanted to clarify what proof you want of the Hobgoblin deaths before I start,” Amdirlain said.
“Whatever is easiest. We can only pay the small amount we offered to the guild, so the numbers themselves don’t matter. What matters is that you get rid of them,” Félagi eyed the pair of them suspiciously. “Or will you leave since we have limited coins?”
“I’m not so worried about the coins as you agreeing to mark the job complete once they’re dead.”
Gurn pulled out a paper form and filled in the details before offering it to Félagi. “Sign on the first line under conditions. I’ll get you to sign the bottom once Jay has finished.”
Félagi took the charcoal stylus he offered and signed his name in Norse runes before returning the paper and stylus.
Amdirlain looked the signed form over without taking it from Gurn. “You have a set form for agreements?”
“I’ve told you it’s been a headache in the past. Scribes in large cities have spells to copy them by the hundred,” Gurn shrugged. “What’s the big deal?”
“Just when you said you got it in writing, I pictured scrawled notes,” Amdirlain admitted.
“Ugh,” Gurn grunted dramatically. “Me thick Orc, Elf girl think me stupid.”
“You said it, not me,” Amdirlain quipped. “You want to see me killing them, or just the bodies afterwards?”
“I’ll come out with you,” Gurn said.
That reduces my options for dealing with the Dragon peacefully.
“First, I’ll get rid of the scouts I spotted.” Another Spell sent out silvery threads, and the evidence of the scouts’ fate sped back to her. “The spells hit, they’ll be back in a minute.”
Sure enough, their decapitated heads hovered before her, black blood pooling at the bottom of the air bubble that contained each.
Gurn snorted. “This job will be quick.”
“I didn’t expect a Wizard of such power to come to our aid,” Félagi said.
“You’re fortunate that I’ve only recently started officially adventuring, so I need to prove myself to the guild. However, I’ve got students to teach this evening in Laški, so we will not delay,” Amdirlain replied, piling the heads off near the broken wall. “I’ll let the village deal with them however they want.”
Spells lightened their bodies, and Amdirlain lifted into the air and transferred control of the spell around Gurn to him before she beckoned him to follow.
The landscape blurred under them until Amdirlain landed them at a cave mouth that had been dug into a pale grey cliff face. Concealed guard posts sat positioned behind boulders that littered the rough ground before the cliffs, near spiked barriers that narrowed the approach. The hobgoblins around the entrance were already bound and gagged with silvery threads of hardened air when they landed. She pressed a finger to her lips and motioned for Gurn to stand to one side of the entry.
Across the cave mouth, a bluish-white barrier appeared before Amdirlain changed the atmosphere within. As the hobgoblins and Priest fell victim to insidious carbon monoxide poisoning, the Dragon’s gaze took in their apparently intoxicated behaviour contemptuously. When the first started seizing, the Dragon rose from his flat rock in the main chamber and raced for the entrance.
Amdirlain’s position out in the open drew its ire. A beam of lightning erupted from his maw and punched through the barrier, yet the poisoned air didn’t escape. Azure lightning blackened and shattered rocks and wood, yet split harmlessly around Amdirlain at the entryway. As the Dragon emerged from the cave, his wings flared out and snapped down as he leapt into the air. The sudden launch caused his wings to creak under the pressure. Amdirlain blurred through the air to meet him, and a bluish-white aura manifested around her fist.
A focused gale backed up her roundhouse punch to impact with a force that cracked scales and snapped the Dragon’s head around. Amdirlain dropped beneath the limp wings as the Dragon tumbled over her. As he fell tail over head across the rocky terrain, his body flopped like a rag doll. A spear blazing with enchanted runes appeared in her hand as she watched the Dragon’s extended tumble down the rocky slope. A sharp crack sounded as his wing twisted beneath his bulk, and Amdirlain winced in sympathy. His passage pulverised boulders, traps, and shrubs, and wet cracks sounded from breaking bones and scales.
“One punch and it’s dead?” Gurn gasped.
“He, not it, and I magically reinforced my punch. Along with the broken bones, he’s going to have a vicious headache,” Amdirlain replied.
“You should kill him,” Gurn insisted.
“There are lots of Hobgoblin armies this season; it might be worth finding out if he knows why.” Amdirlain waited until the Dragon’s tumble stopped before flanking his snout. Shattered bones jutted out of his right wing, and he’d suffered broken ribs, yet his lungs were intact.
As he groggily opened an eye a few minutes later, the tip of the spear hovered before his pupil. Amdirlain looked down at him coldly.
“Your choice. Do you surrender?”
He whimpered his submission.
Comments
Plateworm
Tftc
CringeWorthyStudios
I know, right? Almost feel bad for the little guy…
John Doe
Poor dragon got bullied by creation mommy
