Falling with Folded Wings: A LitRPG Progression Fantasy, page 47
Bronwyn had spent very little time honing her cooking talents both on Earth and since arriving on this planet. Her monthly delivery bill for food back home was quite frankly absurd. Her daily meals generally consisted of eggs and a protein shake in the morning. Some kind of meal prep chicken and rice for lunch, and she would order dinner from one of a hundred restaurants in downtown LA.
She was resting her eyes and daydreaming about her favorite taco spot when the acrid smell of burning oatmeal wafted into her face. “Fuck, shit, goddamn, motherfuck!” her long slur of expletives ran together as she lurched forward and pulled the pot off of the fire. She stared down into it and saw a mess of burnt grains caked onto the edges of the pot. She sighed. “This is gonna take forever to clean.” She ladled some water into the pot from the barrel she kept by her tent. “Just gonna let you soak for a bit, I guess; I think I’d rather die than scrub anything right now.”
Bronwyn sat down in the soft blue grass and leaned back against the log by her fire. She pulled some bread, dried meat, and cheese out of her pouch and made a little sandwich. It was pretty dry without any condiments, but it tasted alright, and she was able to wash it down with some water. When she was done eating, she tossed some water on the fire, took off her boots, and crawled into her tent. She was surprised to find a blissfully snoring Hops laying on his back, his little feet sticking straight up. The sight brought a smile to her face, and she laid down to take just a short nap. Hops, waking briefly when she curled up next to him, made a nest in her long red curls and promptly fell back into a deep slumber.
A few hours later, Bronwyn stretched her arms above her head, waking from her nap. She crawled out of her tent and looked around; the colony’s evening activities were in full swing. “Great. Slept so much today, I’ll probably be up all night again.” Her headache was, thankfully, much improved. Standing up fully, she let out a big yawn. She felt Hops crawl up to her shoulder as she did, reached up to give him a little pat on the head. “What do you say we go for a walk, buddy, stretch our legs and get some fresh air?” She slipped her dark brown leather boots back on and headed down the trail in the direction of the colony center.
Bronwyn walked past dozens of people on the new road; some faces were familiar, others not. However, whether stranger or not, everyone she met eyes with she greeted with a nod or a brief “good evening.” Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, and the colony was a buzz of activity around her. It was incredible to think that, just a little over a week ago, they had been hiding in tents, scared of wolves in the forest. With the influx of contribution points from all the colonists, the council had been able to build a new building or two nearly every day. There were many residences, the tavern/brewery, the bathhouse, and the smithy. Many of the roads around the colony had become paved in large cobblestones. The place was beginning to look less like a tent city and more like a small village every day. Bronwyn estimated that there had to be less than a thousand people still staying in their tents; by next week, she doubted there would be any at all. She wasn’t sure when she would move into a house of her own. She’d never owned her own house. She went from living on base with her father to renting an apartment when she moved out. She certainly could’ve afforded a home back on Earth, but it was never really a priority for her.
Bronwyn saw a bright glow in the windows of the smithy, so she stopped and peeked inside as she was going by. She saw a dozen aspiring artificers hammering and heating various metals. Some even looked like they were working on simple blades or linking together chainmail armor. Maybe soon, they’d be able to craft armor and weapons for the colony, and they wouldn’t have to rely on the System-controlled shop for all their needs. She wondered if the System took offense to people setting out to make things on their own, did it see them as stealing possible Energy? It didn’t matter either way; the colony had to grow and thrive. If it upset the System, they would simply have to deal with the repercussions.
She was rounding the central hill, ready to head back to her tent to do some meditation or cultivation drills, when she heard her name: “Bronwyn!” She looked around, and a big, bearded guy was striding up behind her.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, Bronwyn,” he huffed, walking quickly, “wait up a sec!”
“I’m waiting; what is it?” When the large man got closer, Bronwyn could feel Hops retreat from her shoulder back behind her neck, wrapping her hair around himself.
“Oh, hey. I’m Reggie Arnold Gandry-Thule.” He reached out a hand, and Bronwyn, wondering what was up with this guy, reached out to shake it. He had a huge hand and a firm grip, but he let go after just a short squeeze. “I’m the top of the leaderboard, you know?”
“Oh, right. I hadn’t been paying attention.” Bronwyn started to turn, but he reached out to grab her shoulder.
“Hey, wait. I wanted to talk to you about the election.”
“What election?”
“You know, for council members.”
“Oh, what about it?” Bronwyn didn’t even really know what had been said publicly about elections.
“Well, I wanna know when they’ll be. The people deserve a voice.”
“Oh, they’ll be soon, I’m sure. Right now, we have our hands pretty full. You know, imminent Urghat invasion and all.”
“Huh? Oh, well, we need to have it soon. The people won’t stand for this. We deserve a voice!” He’d clenched his fists, and Bronwyn could see he was holding himself rigid like he was on the verge of losing it.
“Look, I’m not up for an argument right now. I agree that people need a voice. I’ll talk to Ballard about it ASAP. Now, I gotta go. Nice to meet you, Reggie.” Bronwyn saw his fist unclench a bit, and she turned to walk away.
“You see that you do! I’ll be speaking with Ballard, too!” Reggie called after her.
Bronwyn frowned as she walked away from the big man. She wasn’t exactly sure what it was, but something about him rubbed her the wrong way. For just a second, when he was clenching his fists, she could swear he was starting to activate some kind of ability; she could feel the Energy around him becoming denser. She didn’t find him threatening but was curious if that was his intent. She made a mental note of his name and figured she could ask Arthur about him next time they spoke.
As the night grew darker, she found herself finishing the small circuit she was walking and heading back toward her tent. She inspected her soaking pot when she arrived and saw the still hardened grains caked onto the sides. The situation had barely improved. “Fuck me; I’m just gonna buy a new pot, I think.” She mumbled as she prodded at the mess with her finger. “Well, Hops, looks like it’s berries for you and dried meat and cheese for me.” She produced the spartan meal from her pack and sat down on her log bench, placing ten or so small purplish berries in a pile on the ground.
After the two had finished their snack-dinner, Bronwyn decided to spend a couple of hours working on her Core. She sat on the ground, legs crossed, and placed her hands, palm down, on the dirt and grass. She focused on the deep breathing exercises, feeling the flow of Energy travel out to the palms of her hands, infusing her muscles, and then pulling it back into her Core. Each time she pulled the Energy back, she attempted to gather more from the cold earth below her. She could gradually feel the temperature of the ground rise as the Energy began to suffuse the area, and she siphoned it into herself. Over the course of a couple of hours, she could feel her Core heating as well, not a painful heat like when she created her channels, but like her belly was filling up with warm soup on a cold winter day. It was comforting, and she felt like her Core was trying to expand to hold more and more Energy. She hoped it wouldn’t be too long until she managed to upgrade it.
When her Core felt full to bursting, she relaxed and let the Energy slowly bleed out of her. She opened her eyes, stretched, and yawned. Even though she’d slept for most of the day, she was still exhausted. She scooped up an already passed-out Hops and crawled into her tent, quickly falling into a deep sleep.
BRONWYN
It was midmorning when Bronwyn left through the northern gates. She had packed up her belongings, stopped by Olivia’s campsite, and found that she’d already left with Morgan. She was a little sad that she didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, but she was excited for her. Going to meet a new type of people, essentially making first contact with an alien society, sounded pretty damn exciting. Bronwyn had her task, though; she needed to find out more about these Urghat, where they were, and what kind of numbers they had. She was also hesitantly excited about some plans she had thought of involving her new title of “Underclaw” and what she could maybe do with it. She’d have to find the right opportunity, though. For now, she tightened the straps on her backpack, waved goodbye to the guards, and started jogging out into the open fields.
With all the points she’d invested in agility, her jog was starting to feel more and more like a sprint. She loved the feeling of the wind blowing against her face as she ran, her hair blowing back behind her, though Hops was less of a fan and ducked inside of her backpack whenever she was running. Bronwyn had run plenty back on Earth, but a treadmill in her apartment or the gym didn’t stack up to the feeling of pounding over the plains with beautiful vistas all around her.
She had been traveling for quite a while when she came upon the large stone pillar in the field—the site where she had dueled Bloodfang. Bronwyn slowed down as she approached the pillar, looking out for any signs of Urghat. She walked to where she had laid the body of Bloodfang. The two dead boyii hounds were still there, little more than skeletons picked clean by scavengers, but there were no signs of the Urghat pack master or Bloodfang. Someone had retrieved their bodies. She activated her tracking skill and found faint footprints leading away from the site. She followed them for a few meters to the northwest, and a small gray window popped up in her view: URGHAT. She smiled at her discovery and began to follow the tracks.
The tracks were difficult to follow in the dense grass of the plains, and she lost them and backtracked a number of times. She followed them for about five miles when she saw a handful of faint smoke trails rising into the sky from behind a large hill. She crouched low in the grass and slowly started making her way up toward a large, half-buried boulder at the apex. She put her back to the stone and peeked her head around it. She saw the ruins of a small village, about a dozen stone buildings surrounding a central square. Twenty to thirty completely dilapidated structures were spread out to the north. Inside the ruins, she saw what had to be close to thirty Urghat going in and out of buildings, cooking at the fires, and practicing combat drills.
She crouched down behind the boulder and started drawing a map of the route she’d taken, a few distinguishing landmarks, and a more detailed drawing of the inside of the encampment. She pulled away from the stone to take one last look at the camp, making sure she had all the details right. She couldn’t fight this alone and would need to come back with some help. She tucked her crude map and charcoal into her pouch and began to turn away when she felt the sharp edge of a blade press against her neck.
“Well, well, what do we have here, a li’l spy taking notes?” A harsh raspy voice whispered from behind her, breath hot on the back of her neck. “Wonder if I should kill you here or let the boys get some information out of ya first.”
Bronwyn raised her hands in front of her and started to speak, but the knife’s pressure immediately disappeared, and she could hear the speaker scrambling backward.
“M-my apologies, Underclaw. Please, please forgive me. I had no idea, I swear it. I have no intention of making a claim.” His voice sounded panicked, and when Bronwyn turned around, he dropped the knife, his eyes transfixed on the band around her arm.
“What’s your name?” Bronwyn stood at her full height, puffing out her chest and trying to seem as intimidating as possible.
“Umberpaws.” He looked down when he spoke and hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Please, I meant no disrespect; I have four cubs at home. I would never mean to challenge an Underclaw. I-I can give you information. You’re not Urghat; you must have questions!” The Urghat was practically begging her at this point, his brow furrowed, and his hands clasped together.
“Stand up, Umberpaws. I have no intention of killing in cold blood. However, I do have many questions, and I would appreciate you telling me what you know. For starters, what does it mean to be an Underclaw? Who am I under? Also, why didn’t you just kill me while you had that knife to my throat?” Bronwyn led Umberpaws around behind the boulder so that they might talk fully out of sight from the ruins. She sat down and motioned for him to do the same.
Umberpaws followed Bronwyn and sat himself in the grass across from her. He still had a concerned look on his face as his gaze met her eyes for the first time. “To be an Underclaw is an honor and also a threat to one’s self-preservation. You have the right to lead any Urghat who would follow you. However, once a day, any Urghat who feels as though he or she is deserving of your station may challenge you to single combat. This combat is always fought to the death. So, anyone who challenges you needs to be sure of winning.” He paused for a moment, sighing. “Had I killed you just now, ran my blade across your neck, that armband you wear would have turned to onyx and wrapped around my neck; I would be branded a coward and exiled by my own people. This is also why I swore that I did not wish to challenge you; I would have no hopes of winning a fair fight against the one who bested Bloodfang.”
He looked deep into Bronwyn’s eyes before continuing. “Yes, we know of you, Blodwyn. Underclaw Bloodfang sent a sparii carrying news of his quest and his impending duel back to camp. Many Urghat will be after your title now; outsiders do not keep it long. If you manage to live, and, more so, if you manage to get other Urghat to follow you, your title will grow in power. What else do you wish to know? I want to help, but I cannot tell you anything that would betray the trust of my own lord.”
Bronwyn sat there for a moment, thinking. “You’ve been very helpful, Umberpaws. There are a couple of questions I’d like to ask. I don’t think they are compromising in any way. What would happen to me if I were to walk into that camp down there? You also mentioned convincing other Urghat to follow me; how could an outsider possibly do that?”
Umberpaws scratched at his chin as he pondered the questions. “If you walked into that camp this very instant, I doubt they would do anything. Any of them that challenged you, and mind, it could only be one a day, would be committing suicide. I suppose they would undoubtedly send word of your arrival to the other Underclaw and possibly to Overclaw Spineripper. They would not be openly hostile and would allow you to rest at their camp, I’m sure. If you, however, were to attack the camp and start a conflict, they could all defend themselves honorably without risk of being made outcasts. An Underclaw outsider is a tricky situation and one that happens very, very rarely.”
Umberpaws was deep in thought for a moment, his eyes staring off into space. “Tricky situation indeed.” He refocused on Bronwyn. “On the question of how you would get Urghat to follow you? I haven’t the slightest idea.” He let out a barking laugh. “I suppose you prove your worth in battle and try to get them to follow you that way. Though convincing new unsworn warriors to follow you over any other Underclaw would be exceedingly difficult, I would imagine.” He shrugged his hairy shoulders and held his hands upward.
Bronwyn chuckled with him. “Hah, I suppose following an outsider would be quite the rebellious choice to make.” She held her hand out toward him. “Well, Umberpaws, I thank you for your honesty, even if it was out of some sense of duty or self-preservation. I don’t suppose you want to walk into camp with the outsider Underclaw, so why don’t we part ways here, and maybe I’ll see you down there. If I’m feeling risky, anyway.” She laughed again and grinned at the large beast-man in front of her.
Umberpaws bypassed her hand and grasped her forearm, so she did the same. “I hope the Urghat that ends you does it quickly, Underclaw. Thank you again for sparing me; I won’t partake in your flesh if you die here.” He let go of her arm and nodded one last time before heading down the hill toward the ruins.
Bronwyn waited behind the big, knobby boulder for a while after the Urghat left her. She spent some time reflecting on what she’d learned and how it might affect her mission going forward. If the Urghat really couldn’t fight her, except once per day, it almost gave her free reign of the area and the ability simply to walk through all their camps unimpeded. However, her fight with Bloodfang had not been easy, she had barely won in the end, and there were undoubtedly Urghat more fearsome than he. She felt safe, well at least, somewhat safe, entering the camp down the hill from her; Umberpaws had seemed confident that none of the Urghat down there would pose a threat to her, even if one did make a challenge.
She slipped off her backpack and set it down in front of her, pulling the top open wide and peering inside. “You okay, buddy? I know you’re not the biggest fan of these guys.” She reached down in the pack and scooped Hops up in her hand; he peered up at her, poking his head out of his shell. “I’m gonna be heading down into that camp, but don’t worry, I won’t let any of them see you. Let’s have a little lunch first, though.” She set Hops down on her lap and retrieved some dried fruits and cured meats from her pouch. She also handed Hops a small handful of nuts and berries. Hops sat happily in her lap as they ate, the sun high in the sky and the grass soft beneath them.
“You all done eating, cutie?” She smiled at him as he turned around to reveal a blue-stained face and bulging cheeks. Hops finished his mouthful and chirped up at her happily. “You wanna ride in the backpack again or up on my shoulder? I won’t let anyone hurt you, either way, I promise.” Hops looked like he was thinking about climbing up on her shoulder for a moment, but then he hopped off her lap, diving into the opening of the backpack. Bronwyn chuckled. “No worries, buddy, I understand; they can be pretty scary sometimes.” She slung the straps of the backpack over her shoulders and dusted off her pants.
