CPC-02. Couch Potato Crisis, page 37
part #2 of Couch Potato Chronicles Series
“Pan, what’s wrong?” asked Tasha. “Why are you crying?”
She put her hand to her eyes and they came away wet. She removed her glasses and collapsed to her knees, opening her mouth to speak. The words wouldn’t come out.
They were talking to her, Ari and Tasha, but their words didn’t register. She realized she was hyperventilating and tried to bring her breath under control.
She couldn’t hold back her tears. It was so embarrassing when this happened, but there was nothing she could do about it. She imagined other people regarded her with pity or disgust, as if she were a child who couldn’t control her emotions. She wished she could disappear, if only for a while.
Slowly, she settled down some. She couldn’t yet speak between her sobs, so instead, she took out her notebook and copied the ability notification word for word before handing it to Ari. He read it, then handed it to Tasha, who also read it.
Ari knelt and wrapped her in a hug. “I understand why you’re sad.”
“It’s h...hopeless,” she said. “Nobody…would….” but that was all she got out before she started crying again. Her tears were an involuntary response, a part of her body she couldn’t control. It was always this way when she got upset. This was why she needed Ari; he understood her, he’d always be there for her, and he always knew what to do. Most importantly, he could speak for her when she couldn’t speak for herself.
“I don’t think it’s hopeless,” said Tasha. “You told me an Eidolon led you to me, in answer to your question, ‘How can Ari become permanent?’ Libra wouldn’t have sent you to me if it was impossible.”
“B…but…”
“No buts. If the Eidolon of Knowledge says it's possible, I have to believe it is. The only thing that’s changed is you have more information than before. You now know what you need to do to make this happen.”
It took another ten minutes for Pan to calm down enough to speak. She felt like a fool, ashamed of her tears and her emotions. How did everyone else keep calm when sad things happened? Why was it so difficult for her?
Tears were seen as a weakness, especially in Zhakara where people judged one another based on perceived strength. Was Tasha judging her for crying right now? Did her friend look upon her with pity or contempt? She tried to push those thoughts aside.
Tasha was right. Libra wouldn’t have set her on an impossible task. From what she knew about Eidolons, they weren’t benevolent by the standards of mortals, but they never lied. She needed to think and form a plan of action, but for now, Tasha needed her. She was one of the few other humans in the group, and Tasha had never been to a Zhakaran city. Ari and Pan were to be her guides.
She let Ari help her to her feet, and they resumed their trek to the town on the distant horizon.
“Welcome to Aldrige, stranger. The entry fee is 10 GP.” The guard at the city gates watched the party warily. Tasha handed over a 10 GP coin.
“Each. That’s 10 GP each.”
“Fine.” Tasha handed three more coins to the guard to pay for Pan, Ari, and Pollyanna. Tasha had never needed to pay an entry fee in any of the towns she’d visited before. 10 GP wasn’t a lot for her, but to a low-level adventurer, it presented a hefty burden.
“Please enjoy your stay.” The guard smiled as he pocketed the GP.
The town lacked proper roads. Houses and buildings zigged and zagged in a haphazard fashion without regard to city layout. Pan led them through a path cobbled from mud and dirt.
They approached the city hall, one of the few buildings in town of quality construction. This government office served as the courthouse and as the residence of the local mayor or lord. At the front of the courthouse, on full display, were a series of elven men, women, and children, all set in stocks. The wooden devices held the prisoners in a standing position, and their heads and hands were locked into holes on the device’s wooden frame.
Tasha locked eyes with one of them, an elven child. The kid looked malnourished, emaciated, and on the verge of death. For the dirt on the young elf’s face, Tasha couldn’t make out whether the child was a boy or girl.
Tasha turned to Ari. “What the hell is this? I don’t understand.”
He didn’t look her in the eye. “I’m sorry you had to see this. This is how Zhakarans punish disobedient slaves. They’re put into pillory and refused food and water until they die or their masters take pity on them.”
“Wow. You told me, but I didn’t appreciate how bad it was until now.” Tasha started toward the stocks. “Help me get them out of there.”
The pugilist held her back gently and his voice was low. “That’s not why we came here. We need to get information about Kiwi. That won’t happen if we make a scene.”
“I can’t accept this. Ari. We can’t just do nothing.”
Pollyanna shook her head. “I understand your desire to help, but if we do anything right now, all you’ll accomplish is getting us killed. If we mess with the stocks, the guards will try to kill us. If you die here, you’ll fail.”
Pan shook her head, “No way. It’s t...too risky. They’d catch us.”
“She’s right,” said Ari. “You can’t help these people. And this isn’t a unique situation. This atrocity is repeated throughout all of Zhakara.”
Tasha shook her head. “This entire country is messed up. How did you and Pan end up so normal?”
Ari resumed walking. “The old woman we grew up with was unique, not at all a typical Zhakaran. Some of her ideas might have rubbed off on us.”
Reluctantly, Tasha turned from the grisly scene and kept her eyes on the path. Nonetheless, in her mind’s eye, the image of the elven child came, unbidden, and no matter how hard she tried to think of something else, she couldn’t put those images out of her mind. After another ten minutes’ walk and several stops to ask directions, they arrived at a tavern marked by the words, “The Selkie’s Tear,” which had been engraved into a wooden signpost.
She pushed through the large tavern interior, looking over the dozens of round tables. The patrons were all human, and the servers were all elven. All except for the bartender, whose bald head and plain white shirt shirt reminded Tasha of Mister Clean. She approached Mister Clean and asked him about Caymie Jakobson. The bald bartender tapped the counter with one finger. Grumbling, Tasha placed a 10 GP coin on the counter.
The bartender pointed at a small wooden table in the corner where a middle-aged woman sat alone. She wore a dark full-body cloak, and a mug of something or other sat on the table in front of her. The bartender paid her no mind, polishing the wooden countertop as though Tasha had ceased to exist.
Pollyanna leaned over and whispered to Tasha. “You’ve got that ability ready?”
Tasha nodded. “Yeah, I spent twenty minutes watching Finding Nemo to unlock Memory Siphon. As long as we keep the conversation under five minutes, I should be able to remove her memories of that stretch of time. Are you sure this is necessary?”
Pollyanna nodded. “Absolutely. By now, the queen will have been informed about our attack on Ironfall. We should assume she knows you’re in Zhakara. Unless we want her to know our precise whereabouts, we need to cover our tracks. If Caymie realized who you are, she might sell that information to the queen.”
She frowned. “I’ll do it, but I don’t like it. It feels like too much like what the queen did to me.”
Ari said, “It’s not the same as a charm spell. You wouldn't influence her choices, you’ll only delete a select few of her memories.”
Tasha gave a resigned nod. Ari and Pollyanna walked across the barroom and each took a seat across from the woman. Tasha stood behind them.
“Are you Caymie?” asked Ari. “We’re here about the job.”
Cayme narrowed her eyes and pulled back her hood. “Just the three of you?”
Ari signaled, indicating Pan. “Four. We’re seasoned adventurers. Can you give us the details?”
She took a lingering look at Pan. “Do I look like a babysitter? We don’t need little kids for this job. Now bugger off, twerp.”
Tasha said, “Pan’s a high level summoner. I promise she’ll be useful.”
“And what the hell are you? A Couch Potato? Why the hell would anyone choose Couch Potato as their primary class? Forget it, I don’t need someone with such an obscure set of abilities.”
She turned her attention to Ari and Pollyanna. “Now the two of you I can work with. You look like you can handle yourselves. You’re hired. Your friends can sit this one out.”
Ari said, “I need more information before my partner and I will take the job.” He leaned in. “Where are we going? How much opposition are you expecting?”
Caymie glanced at Pollyanna, exasperated. “They’re elves, probably no higher than level 2 at the highest. They’re only elves, after all. At least three went missing from the caravan, two children and an elven woman with long green hair.”
Tasha perked up. “Did you say a woman with long green hair?”
Caymie nodded. “That’s what the caravan master said. What of it?”
“Nothing,” said Pollyanna. “Please continue.”
“The mist monsters are the only real opposition you should expect. My best guess is our targets have taken shelter in the ruins to the southwest. We’ll follow the road west for about 30 miles before turning south. From there, it’s another 40 miles cross-country.”
She took another sip of her beer. “I don’t care what happens to the green haired elf. You can claim her as a slave if you want, but the other two are mine.”
“What did they do to you?” asked Tasha.
“They stole my treasure, murdered my husband, and are now keeping him as their prisoner.”
“You want us to save your husband?”
“Of course not. If I ever get my hands on that double-crossing bastard, I’ll kill him myself. But I can’t forgive elves for taking what’s mine.”
Tasha asked, “This other elven woman, the one with green hair. Do you know her name?”
“No.” Caymie narrowed her eyes. “Why would you care?” The Zhakaran leaned forward, “Wait a moment, you look familiar. I’ve seen your face somewhere before.”
Tasha shook her head and gave the woman an easy smile. “You haven’t. I’ve only just arrived in town.”
“I know who you are!” Caymie’s jaw dropped. “You’re that new Player. I saw your picture in the paper!”
Tasha touched Caymie’s arm. The woman’s eyes opened wide for the split second before Tasha invoked Memory Siphon.
She’d never used this ability before and wasn’t sure what to expect. In hindsight, she should have experimented with using it before employing it on an enemy.
The skill description said that it transferred the last five minutes of the target’s memories to the caster. Tasha assumed that meant she’d remember whatever Caymie remembered. Instead, for the next five minutes, she relived the events of Caymie’s life from the older woman’s point of view.
She watched as Caymie sat in the corner. Her hands moved of their own volition, picking up the mug and taking a sip. It tasted watered down, but this was the best she could afford. If her damn husband hadn’t been such a fool, she wouldn’t have lost her house. Now she had to spend the last of her meager savings to hire mercenaries to get that good for nothing man back.
Wait a minute…thought Tasha, these aren’t my thoughts. These are—were—Caymie’s thoughts.
She took another drink of her beer and glanced at the four newcomers as they entered the bar. They looked like adventurers. A kid, a dark skinned woman, a not unattractive man wearing a martial artist’s uniform, and a blonde woman. They were probably here about the job. Unlike everyone who came before, these adventurers were high level. There was no way she could afford all four of them. She’d have to limit herself to two.
The kid was out. She had the lowest level of the four. She quickly decided against hiring the dark skinned woman, too. She was the sort of woman her awful husband would find attractive. Tasha observed Caymie’s thoughts about her husband. Her thoughts were a strange mixture of rage, anger, disgust, superiority, hatred, murderous intent, but also love and worry. What a strange, unhealthy relationship these two people had.
The dark skinned woman was talking with the martial artist about something. It made Tasha feel strange to see herself from another’s point of view.
Ari, Tasha, and Pollyanna approached the table and engaged with Caymie. The dialog went exactly the way Tasha remembered it, though now she understood the woman’s true motivations.
Tasha watched as Caymie came to the realization Tasha was the Player, right before Tasha touched her hand and invoked the skill. Then, her consciousness abruptly returned to her own body.
Caymie looked down at her arm. “Who the hell are you, and why are you touching me?”
Tasha removed her hand and backed away. “Nothing. My mistake. Let’s go, Ari.”
The four headed back toward the gate, Denver in tow.
To Ari, Tasha said,, “That was really strange. I watched her memories for five minutes. I could even read her thoughts.”
“Really?” the pugilist asked. “That skill might be even more useful than I originally assumed. I suppose it makes sense. A human being is little more than the sum of their memories. Memories form a stream of consciousness. If a bunch of memories were suddenly added to your own, you’d remember experiencing them in real time.”
“I feel like I intruded on her thoughts.”
Pollyanna said, “Don’t let it bother you. We got what we needed and she’ll never remember any of it.”
Tasha said, “She mentioned a woman with green hair. There’s a chance Kiwi might be there. We should hurry.”
“That’s just what I was thinking,” said Ari. “Let’s hurry back to the ship.”
During the journey back, the group again passed the courthouse with the chained elves. Tasha gazed at them as she passed, unable to pull her attention away. The small elven child in the center drew her eyes.
She clenched her fists into tight balls and turned away. Everyone kept calling her a hero, but here she was, in a position to help a small child, but choosing not to because it was too risky and would draw too much attention.
She was so lost in her thoughts that it took her a moment to register that Pan was no longer following the group. She’d come to a stop before the imprisoned slaves.
Tasha turned back for her friend. “Come on. We need to get out of here. Ari was right. This isn’t the time for heroics.”
Pan appeared deep in thought, as she stared at the slaves. When she didn’t move, Tasha asked, “What is it?”
Pan swallowed and said, “Y...you g..go ahead. Wait for m...me outside the g...gate.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Ari.
Pan removed the cloak of invisibility from her inventory and put it on, tying it around her neck. Ari’s eyes were wide. “You can’t save them all.”
“J...just one.” Pan raised her hood and vanished from sight.
Cloaks of invisibility were rare. There were less powerful variants—for instance cloaks of unnoticability could be purchased at any NPC merchant or fabricated by a competent enchanter. These only turned away watchful eyes, convincing the observer that whatever you’re doing, it’s perfectly normal.
There were other items, such as a ninja camouflage suit that blended the wearer’s body into the surroundings, projecting color onto your body in each direction. It was a form of invisibility, but wouldn’t deceive anyone who paid attention. It worked optimally when the user remained perfectly still against a uniform surface.
Pan’s cloak of invisibility was a much more powerful tool. Though it exacted a large price in mana, it allowed light to pass through the user while worn, making them completely invisible. Normally, this prevented the user from seeing anything too, since light would never reach their eyes. Some early experiments in invisibility spells excluded the user’s eyes, but that made the invisible person look like a pair of floating eyes, killing the purpose of the invisibility spell.
That’s why the cloak also projected a small image into the user’s iris, effectively televising what they would have seen through their own eyes if the invisibility hadn’t been in effect. In order to keep the cost as low as possible, the illusion was grainy and in greyscale.
That’s what Pan saw as she approached the stocks. The world around her was cast in black, white, and the greys in between. She navigated around pedestrians who remained completely unaware of her. The downside of being invisible was that she had to proactively avoid bumping into people who couldn’t see her.
A minute later, she climbed the elevated wooden platform that contained the pillory and approached the one in the middle. Now that she got a good look at the child, she realized it was a boy. So far, the kid seemed unaware of her presence, which was good, since it would stop him from reacting and inadvertently drawing attention to her. She checked her mana reserves. She was still good for another fifteen minutes or so.
A large padlock with an exposed keyhole secured the boy’s stocks. She’d have to pick the lock. Through the normal act of playing her previous class, that of “thief,” she’d raised her lockpicking skill.
She placed a lockpick from her inventory against the padlock. A pipe-based puzzle game appeared above the padlock. Dials and lever controls allowed her to slide or rotate pipes to direct the water’s flow from the starting point to the end. Skills in Etheria often took the form of minigames. Automated crafting often took the form of a falling block puzzle, for example. Like many things in life, it made no logical sense, but it was best to accept the nonsensicalness of the universe and get on with living in it. Anything else would drive one mad.
She solved the pipe puzzle in under a minute, snapping the lock open. Pan had quickly shifted her hands to catch the lock so it didn’t fall to the ground. Instead, she slid the padlock off the stocks, placing it in her inventory where it wouldn’t draw anyone’s attention.
