Chapter 9: CHAPTER 1 – PART II

No one's in.

Anywhere.

Not the first, second, or fourth place I try.

There was someon... thing at the third, but they also had a little handpump for water, so I quickly used that to clean myself up when they burst outside yelling, growling, hissing at me... I honestly don't know how to describe it. They were like this amorphous mound of sludge, with that pearlescent sheen you see when rain water mixes with petrol in the gutter. It just kind of wobbled, rolled, slithered towards me, rippling and undulating in place of gestures to show its anger. I expected it burble or glug like dish water or when you play with those slime toys as a kid, but it bubbled and fizzed on the surface in sort of a face position. It changed place with the ever shifting shape of its body, but as every trapped piece of gas popped on the surface, those yowls and barks belched out.

I booked it.

I didn't even go through the gate.

I scrabbled up over the wall and dropped down into the street on the other side.

Kept running til I was down the road and round the corner.

Anything I'd managed to clean off back there was replaced with the cold sweat of terror.

While walking to the fourth building I'd marked out as a potential starter quest location, all I could do was think about what the hell that thing was. It might have been the creature that lived there, like some kind of poison slime or a chaos spawn or something. It could also have been their version of a guard dog. It did burst out from between a pair of sliding doors without opening them much first, smooshing through the gap like that blood elevator. Really could be either and I'm not going back to try and discuss things civilly.

The fourth building doesn't have a wall or gate, just some big imposing doors facing right onto the street in front. It's the first place to have a sign too, but I can't make heads or tales of the symbols, scribble, scrawled above the lintel. I shouldn't think like that, it's their language, or one of them, I'm probably going to have to learn eventually. This is what it was like in school trying to get my head around German at school. I hope this isn't as hard to learn. I don't want to spend years here...

I gulp down the lump in my throat and start orientating myself towards the fifth building, feeling a little relieved that I don't smell too bad after washing myself and air drying with a sprint. I swing round the corner, running one row of houses back from the main street, and actually see some people walking about. From a distance they're at least humanoid, and as I get closer I can see they're some kind of beastfolk. More goat like and hardy than the wiry predators I'd ran into earlier. I nod and wave as I pass, trying to act friendly, but they pay me no heed. Too wrapped up in whatever business they're fussing over.

I decide to trot back over, calling out as I do, to give them a hand. As I'd gotten ahead and looked over my shoulder, noticed they were struggling with some sacks, so thought I might as well offer to help. If nothing else, it might give me some good karma. It might even lead to a side quest, or earn me some pocket money, or a little exp. They look at me a bit bleary eyed, obviously exhausted from lugging such a heavy load about. I try to motion that I want to help, miming lifting the sack, pointing to myself, the building next to them, assuming it's theirs, that sort of thing. They don't seem to be getting it. They're just sort of looking at me a bit dumbfounded, so I go to pickup one of the sacks... that's when they come to life, kicking off like I'm some idiot child or mugger. I put the bag back down and step away, bowing and apologising as I go.

I guess that wasn't a side quest after all...

I think there's maybe two more buildings that looked promising, but they're across the high-street. I tentatively make my way along an alleyway, scanning the length and breadth of the main road in case I end up having another random encounter. Thankfully, it's still pretty quiet. There's a couple of old lizardmen sat out on a stoop, grey and mottled, patches of scale clinging to their limbs, refusing to shed. They're too contented smoking and drinking and croaking away to each other to notice me slip out from my vantage point and dart into an adjacent one.

The sun is barely creeping across the sky, hanging high in an extended noon. I can feel the sweat seeping through my top again. So much for cleaning myself up to look more presentable for the Adventurers Guild. It isn't really hard going, it's all been down hill after all, but with no shade any more, the heat is getting unbearable. Hopefully I can find another tap or well soon.

I thread my way through the side streets, ignoring whatever creatures I happen upon. Just a few more beastfolk pottering about at work, a single lizardwoman hanging out some washing on a rickety line, the occasional squawk of frustration, chirp of joy, distant clatter of wood or stone or metal. The ambient noises of village life, if the village happens to be populated by fantasy creatures.

I smirk that I am already becoming accustomed to the sounds, as if years of gaming has naturalised alien soundscapes to my ears.

The sixth building is big, but it is not grand.

It's more of a barn, doors wide open, several slumped shadows tilling away at this or that around the edges. The inside isn't very well illuminated, and that animal funk of bodies hard at work permeates the air around it, pungent with the productivity of physical labour. I am far too intimidated to bother them with charades of trying to find work. They're obviously manual labourers doing farm, construction, or repair work of some kind. That blue colour intensity and focus is not something I want turning on me. I remember my Dad going to a small mechanic's garage once and being made sport of by the older guys for not knowing much about his car. I really don't want to deal with that when I can't speak the language.

I move on sharpish, hoping that the last place is what I'm looking for. I don't have high hopes as I make my way further along the plateau. The buildings on this end are all in a little more disrepair than those up-hill.

Something catches my attention through the slats in a fence.

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Is that a human?

I dash over.

I try to be subtle about peeking between the gaps, slowly walking alongside the property, only taking sideways glances.

There's no one in the street to see me, but the person in the garden beyond is beautiful. I've either freaked out or angered everyone I've come across so far. I don't want disturb this... dear god she's gorgeous. Willowy and pale like living moonstone... wait, she better not be a vampire. No, there's direct sunlight and she's not sparkling or bursting into flame, we're good. Her hair is whiter than her skin, eyes pink and... shit!

I jump back as we make eye contact.

There's no yelp from the yard, but before she went out of view her expression was something like a pouting frown. I don't run. A part of me hoping she'll come out and speak to me, beckon me in. A part of me already on alert, assuming any form of kindness should be taken as an attempt at manipulation. Well, after she stopped being scared of me, the beastgirl actually seemed to be trying to help. Guiding me to that secluded spot, trying to avoid the orc. God I hope she's okay...

Snapping me out of my thoughts, the gate creaks open on rusted hinges. The face of an angel peers round the fencepost, squinting at first in a glaring beam of light, then covering her eyes with one hand. What acliché, or maybe it's a sign. I decide to air on the side of optimism.

"Hi!" giving my best smile, though obviously still a bit shy, and a wave.

To my astonishment, she seems to understand, at least from my expression and tone of voice, and returns my wave.

"░░░░░░" she says something to me, but my brain only interprets it as static. Her voice has a sweet lilting quality to it, almost coy. It's the first time anyone has sounded like they're actually speaking, rather than animalistic intonations.

I cautiously come closer.

Quickly peering about to see if there are any prying eyes or looks of warming to tell if I should be happy or worried about interacting with this woman. There's still not another soul on the street, or twitching at a curtain, so I go with the flow a little longer.

She giggles coquettishly and gestures for me to follow, gliding smoothly back behind the fence. I walk over, mostly unsure because of how friendly she's being, and pop my head through the gate. It makes more sense why she seemed to float, only leaning her torso out of the yard. My skin crawls as I see her lower body, the spindly limbs and distended abdomen of a cellar-spider protrude from her silken robe. Every inch of her ghostly pale, but for the red veins faintly visible from within.

I used to be petrified of spiders, but when I learned that harvestmen were like the grim reaper for dead bees, or the cellar ones will eat the bigger nastier huntsmen... I started to find that select few kinda cute. I realise it was more surprise than fear of her arachnid side that made me freeze, so I force myself to step into the garden and join her at what appears to be a wooden picnic table. She crouches low, then bends her legs beneath her body, kind of like how a cat loafs, but with double the appendages to accommodate. Her smile is a little lonely as she motions for me to take a glass. There's a tray with a few on my side of the table, a jug next to them, and one already half full in front of the spideress. I pour myself a glass, it's just water, not tea, or juice, or anything. No ice either, unfortunately, but not unexpected, and it's still relatively cool.

I luxuriate in the clean, crisp water, draining the glass in one. Sheepishly, I do my best to gesticulate my gratitude and that I'd like another. The spiderwoman chuckles again, covering her mouth with one hand, and directing me to the jug with the other. I top it off, take a sip, and sit in silence for a moment. I feel awkward for intruding, even though I was seemingly invited, and still a little wary of my host due to her species, which only adds rude and embarrassed to my emotional mix. I shift in my seat, averting my gaze, and look around the garden to calm myself.

It's neat enough, maybe a little overgrown... I don't really know gardening, so I'm not even sure what I'm looking for. I put on a brave face and turn my attention back to the spideress, who's eyes have drift to the condensation rings left on the table from her glass. She raises them to meet mine, and we both half smile and sigh. This is the most human interaction I've had since I got here. This almost feels comforting. If only I could actually talk to her. Interact on a deeper, more meaningful level than just pointing and grunting.

It dawns on me that her apparent flirtatiousness was probably more her maternal instinct and a sense of humour. She's older than I first perceived, still surreally beautiful, but age and love and care for others have left their marks on her. There doesn't seem to be anyone else around, as well used as the crockery and garden furnishings appear to be, so all I can assume is she has seen her family all move away and has been left alone. Then today, she saw someone lost, saw me, and hoped she could have company for a brief while, not realising we wouldn't be able to connect properly due to the language barrier.

I take another sip of water and clear my throat.

"Thank you."

I bow my head.

Hoping my feelings reach her.

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