by Ian Rodgers
“Based on how everything seems to be pointing downwards, with the lower levels being the newest and constantly under construction, I can safely assume we’ve landed in Down, the Ever Delving City,” the Spellsword explained to his companions as they sat in a booth, sipping at some decent mead they’d bought with some mana-filled gems looted from the smuggler’s village.
“The same place your own mentor described as a pit of greed, or something along those lines?” Dora asked, worried, and Ain nodded.
“Quite. It’s not a pleasant realm. It’s taken some thinking, but I’ve recalled a few more salient points about this city,” the elf revealed. “According to Tein Huntersteel, money is the driving force here. If you have that, you’ll be fine, even going so far as being able to buy your way out of serving jail time for wrong doings. Of course, one of the crimes here in Down is ‘being poor,’ so if we run out of money, we can’t try and panhandle, beg, or the like, lest we be tossed into hard labor camps. After all, given that the city is constantly expanding, it always needs fresh workers to toil away.”
He took a gulp from his mug, wetting his lips before continuing. “Also, teacher mentioned that talking about their rival city, Up, too much or too loudly, or in a praising way, is grounds for being charged with treason.”
“I have no idea what that place is even like, so whatever,” Dora shrugged, taking a sip of mead and licking her lips. “This isn’t half bad. Think they make it with mushrooms and cave bee honey?”
“Cave bees?” Enrai question, an eyebrow raised incredulously, and the half-orc shrugged.
“Well, I assume they have something that produces honey! How else do you explain this drink?”
“Focus!” Ain snapped at the pair, and they settled down, chastised. “Good. Now, one last thing I remember being told is this place has a large slave market, and plenty of kidnappers and thieves, so we should always stick together, no matter what!”
“I guess that it makes sense for a settlement of slavers to have a portal to a place like this. Though, I thought I’d finally gotten away from all that business when we ended up in the Resort,” Dora sighed. “I mean, sure I freed my family from the World Rebellion, and the Yellowmoon Menagerie is technically a slaver gang, but… I don’t know. I’d hoped this would all end when we escaped Targua. My father and Holt would take over as rulers of Creidor and retire, and I could live a simple life healing people.”
She knocked back her mug, draining it in a few deep gulps before slamming it down on the table. “Pah! Now look at me! Trapped on the Elemental Plane of Earth, in a city where money is law, and still surrounded by slavers that aren’t my family. Oh, and I’m supposed to be a flipping Chosen One, too! And in charge of some mystical painting that makes me indestructible! Gods, where did my life go wrong?”
“Might want to keep some parts of your life story quiet, Dora,” Enrai suggested, surreptitiously glancing around. “If this place is as bad as Ain’s making it out to be, I imagine there’d be a line of people looking to buy and sell you.”
The Monk suddenly gained a pensive look. “Actually, how much would a Chosen One go for? I wonder what the market value for someone like that would be?”
“Huh, never thought of that, actually,” Dora said, tilting her head to the side in thought. “Probably a lot? At least a couple million gold, since I’m apparently a rarity.”
“Hey, Ain, Dora, I just had this great idea…!” Enrai began, only to be slapped by the Spellsword.
“We’re not going to ‘sell’ Dora, and then rescue her from whoever buys her!” he hissed at the Monk.
“Yeah, I kind of pissed off Naliot, so I don’t think tempting Fate like that would be a good plan, even if we could make out like bandits. Odds are he’d make it so I could never take off any slave collar put on me without begging him for aide. And this plan hinges on assuming the person who wants to buy a Chosen One could be taken down by you two. No offense, but I think anyone that evil or rich is going to have X-ranked abilities or helpers, at very least,” Dora said.
“How did you anger the God of Chains?” Enrai asked, curious.
“I may have chosen Nia over him? I don’t know, it was weird, he clearly wanted me to become his Cleric or something, just like how Scarrot was his Paladin. But then the Divine Family interfered, and well, here I am,” the half-orc Healer said with a shake of her head. The mood at their table dipped low after that.
Enrai opened his mouth to make a joke to try and ease the tension bubbling below the surface of the group, but a loud ‘CRASH!’ of wood and glass beat him to it. Eyes and heads throughout the bar turned to look at the source of the commotion, Dora’s among them.
A number of patrons near the back had chucked something away towards the front of the bar, causing it to land heavily on a table that’d been occupied by a group of rough, large, and troll-like figures.
The so-called trolls resembled the Eraforian breed, but lacked fur on their backs and had skin closer to that of a snake than the hardened leather Erafore trolls sported. These trolls also seemed far more intelligent than the animals that roamed the mountains and caves of Orria. The one similarity between these two breeds of trolls was the oversized hands and undersized head compared to the rest of their body.
Guttural snarls rang out through the establishment as the trolls glared at the missile that had impacted their table and disturbed their drinking, and Dora watched as the object thrown at their table rolled onto the floor, before trying to stagger to its feet.
“What is up with Gaeum and giant rats?” Dora muttered to herself. Indeed, the figure trying to rise was a bipedal rat person, its eyes displaying intelligence and its paws resembling hands. It wore ragged, tattered clothes, and was hunched, making it appear smaller than it actually was. Though with Dora’s discerning eye she could tell it stood about five feet tall.
What really caught her eye, though, was the blood leaking out of its body. Shards of wood and ceramic had pierced its body when it’d been thrown onto the troll’s table, and there were other, older injuries littering its body, making it hard for the rat-folk to stand up properly and walk away.
Not that it was given a chance to do so, as the meaty hands of a troll lashed out and clobbered it over the head, knocking it back down before it could rise. A series of cruel guffaws emerged from several of the other patrons in the bar, though most looked disinterested, even bored, by the sight of violence.
“I don’t think I like this place,” Dora said, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
“Don’t make a scene, Dora,” Ain pleaded with her. His eyes then slid over to his other companion. “Same for you, Enrai!”
The Monk grunted, eyes locked onto the brutes who were currently shoving the rat-person around.
“I don’t like it when people abuse others,” he announced, and the Grand Elf nodded.
“I despise their actions as well, but we can’t cause a commotion! We need to find an opal that walks, and then a way out of here,” Ain reminded them.
“Well, if we want to get anywhere, then I suppose we’d need a guide,” the blonde Healer mused, before standing up and walking over to the scene of cruelty.
“Oh, for Asteron’s sake!” the Spellsword groused, taking the name of the head of the elfish pantheon’s name in vain. He shook his head before reaching for his brand-new saber.
“Be ready to step in if things look dicey,” Ain whispered to Enrai, who simply winked and gave him a nod.
Dora strode confidently towards the downed rat-folk, bending down and laying her hands on its back, checking over the creature with magic.
All eyes in the bar were locked onto her, now. Some were confused by her actions, others amused, some disgusted. But there was a curiosity in the air that made them all settle down to watch.
One of the trolls who’d been pushing the rat-folk around growled at her, saying something to the half-orc in its crude tongue. She ignored the brute completely, focusing instead on healing the wounded person in fro
nt of her.
Silver light shone from Dora’s hands, and splinters of wood and shards of ceramic were pushed from the body, the holes then rapidly healing thanks to Lady Dramhyda improving her technique.
Nodding in satisfaction with her work, the half-orc reached for the silver cube and pressed a finger lightly against it, activating its translation function with a jolt of mana.
“There you go, all nice and fixed up,” she said, patting the rat-folk on the shoulder comfortingly.
“Th-thank you, kind mistress,” the rat-person said in a distinctly feminine – albeit nasally and scratchy – voice. She abased herself in front of Dora, head pressed against the floor in submission. “I will do anything you desire-demand to repay you for this gesture-action!”
Dora refused to let any of her discomfort show on her face, and instead helped the rat-woman to her feet.
“Why don’t you sit near me and my friends for a bit? We can talk about paying us back later,” the Healer suggested, guiding her patient over to Ain and Enrai.
Before either of them could reach their table, two things occurred. First, one of the trolls, whom Dora recognized as the primary instigator of the bullying, rose up from his seat and stomped over. The second was that a tall, hairy, and green figure rose up from the rear of the bar, but seemed content to watch.
From the flinch the rat-woman gave when she spotted the second person rise up and look her way, Dora guessed that that man was the reason why she’d gone flying across the bar in the first place.
The blonde Healer kept her cool, though, and gave both aggressors a look of utter boredom and disdain.
“Do you also need healing?” she asked the troll first. “I’m sure beating up a defenseless young woman strains the wrist muscles quite a bit.”
Her query’s acidic tone sent a ripple of snorts and chuckles through the room, though the troll in question found it less than amusing.
“The rat broke our drinks,” it growled.
“I noticed. But I don’t think pushing someone around will magically make the drinks reappear. Then again, I’m new here.” Dora turned to the rest of the bar’s occupants, eventually letting her eyes rest on the lizardfolk behind the counter polishing a mug. “Is beating up patrons part of some sort of magical ritual to restore lost drinks in these parts?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” the reptilian bartender hissed in amusement. Dora nodded her thanks at him, before turning and glaring at the troll, hands folded behind her back.
“You heard the lizard. Now back off before you wreck yourself. And I don’t know how well I can heal troll anatomy.”
“Puny little…!” the troll snarled, launching a fist at Dora’s face. The half-orc had expected an act of aggression, though, and discreetly pressed a finger against the rolled-up Depiction of Utopia.
Like the first time she’d used it, she became draped in a shell of Divine energy that completely negated the fist the troll tried to slam into her face.
Stunned silence filled the bar, and the troll slowly withdrew his fist, staring at it in confusion.
“Why isn’t your face smashed in?” the brute asked, bewildered by the outcome.
“Because you suck. Was that a punch? My friend Enrai can slap harder than that!” Dora scoffed, while the bald Monk shouted, “It’s true!” in agreement with his mint green friend’s assertion.
The Healer than turned to Enrai and gave him a nod. “Show this troll the error of his ways.”
“Can do!” the Monk said cheerfully, sliding out of the booth and going over to stand in front of the monster that currently towered over him. Meanwhile, Dora helped the rat-woman into the booth, sitting protectively next to her.
The troll roared, furious at the casual disregard given to him, and tried to punch Enrai. The Qwanese warrior simply sidestepped the painfully telegraphed punch and then bounced on the soles of his feet to reach the troll’s tiny head.
He proceeded to backhand the troll, sending the poor soul flying. As it would so happen, the troll flew all the way over to the table where the hairy, green-skinned man had risen from.
In a turn of events that made the room cheer with rowdy laughter, the trolls utterly demolished the table where the rat-woman had been tossed from mere moments before. Dora wore a victorious smirk, and even Ain couldn’t suppress a faint grin.
Enrai slid back into the booth after tossing some of the local currency at the bartender to cover the damages. He then shot a wide, playful grin over at the cowering rat-folk. “So! What do you think? Did he fly far enough?”
“Err, uh, well, it was… very noble-loyal of you,” she replied hesitantly. “But why did you all stand up for me? No one stands up for the Rakkar!”
“Because I’ve been in a position similar to yours,” Dora said, thinking back to her youth in Far Reach. A scowl slipped onto her face as she remembered all of the mistreatment and abuse she’d suffered at the hands of the villagers for being half-orc. She quickly hid her expression when she saw the rat-woman – or ‘Rakkar’ as this species was known – cowering in fright.
“Just thinking of the bad old days,” Dora sighed, trying to reassure the woman.
“As for me, I just don’t like bullies,” Enrai explained. “You wouldn’t know this from looking at me, but I used to be a barrel of lard when I was a kid, and constantly tormented for being a little fatty.”
The Monk flexed his right arm, muscles bulging like corded steel. “But then I joined the Order of the Gilded Phoenix, learned martial arts and the Monk’s Way, and became the bad-ass you see before you today!”
“Ignore him and his delusions of grandeur,” Dora said with an amused shake of her head. As the bald warrior pouted, she turned her attention back to the Rakkar. “If you want to repay us, we need someone to help us find something. Are you interested?”
“I will help-assist!” she replied, hastily bobbing her head. She shot a frightful look over into the bar a moment later, however.
“Can you tell us why you were thrown aside like that?” Ain inquired, speaking up for the first time.
“I-I was working-obeying for another group. Odd jobs, mostly. Occasionally dirty-evil jobs. But the group never paid me, always saying ‘later’ and putting it off. I needed it, though! So, I confronted them about it. I thought maybe if I did so in a public-open place they’d be less likely to do something to me. I foolishly forgot that my kind are filth-dirt around here, so they beat me up and tossed me away without a care,” she informed them, looking back at the trio as she spoke.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Might I know your name?” Ain asked, sympathy in his voice.
“Long-Tail-Shadow, is my identity-name,” the Rakkar said, before glancing worriedly back to the side. “Um, I do not mean to speak out of place, but…”
“Hmm? Oh, them?” Ain said, looking over Enrai’s shoulder, before scoffing. “They’re just trying to act intimidating by looming next to the table. However, it only comes across as desperate for attention.”
Chuckles and mocking laughter burst through the bar, while the quartet of hairy orcs snarled. Dora took a close look at them. They had much more hair on their heads and bodies than the orcs of Erafore did, and their noses were distinctly more akin to piggish snouts than actual humanoid noses. Their tusks were also a lot bigger and sharper looking than the dinky pair she and her pure-blooded kin possessed. Not to mention all the metal piercings on their body!
But beyond that, their dark green hued skin, muscular body, and general look of constantly being pissed off reminded Dora a lot of her father and the other orcs she’d encountered back in the Dreadlands.
“Can we help you?” Dora asked pleasantly. Three of the four orcs shifted anxiously, clearly unnerved by the displays of power the trio had put on so far. Between not even flinching when a troll hit her face and Enrai smacking one to the side with little effort, they did not seem eager for the confrontation their leader wanted.
“You wrecked our table,” the boss of the orc po
sse growled out, voice sounding like he gargled sand on a daily basis.
“And I paid for it,” Enrai replied casually. He then blinked, and turned to Dora. “I did, didn’t I? I mean, that bag of gems was pretty conspicuous, right?”
“No, you paid for the damages, Enrai. It seems that someone wants to pick a fight with us,” she said with a disappointed shake of her head. “Some people can’t take a hint, can they?”
“That Rakkar is ours,” the orc declared, trying to get things going his way.
“I see no collar on her neck, and no slave brand on her flesh. She is her own person as far as I care,” Dora said, her tone turning sharp. “And regardless of what you might think, she’s working with us, now.”
“The Iron Bristles do not tolerate this kind of…”
“Iron Bristles? Really? Is that what you named your gang? That’s just pathetic,” Dora snorted in amusement. “It doesn’t terrify or anything!”
All four of the orcs were now agitated, and growling menacingly at Dora and her companions, but the blonde Healer was not phased. Instead, she held up a hand, palm facing outward.
“Stop bothering us, or I will have Ain punch you in the face. Long-Tail-Shadow is under our protection. Go find someone else to push around.”
Ain cracked his knuckles threateningly. A stare down between him and the orcs began, tension crackling through the air. Eventually the leader of the four orcs blinked first. He decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and so the orcs moved on.
As the hairy green quartet exited the bar, they did shoot one last barb at Dora and her group.
“Down is not a kind place to fools. And fools you are for trusting one of those wretches over your own kin.”
“I don’t see any kin of mine around here. Just some thugs,” Dora replied calmly. The orc boss ‘tsked’ loudly before stalking out of the building. Once he was gone, the Healer turned to the Rakkar and smiled at her comfortingly.
“Okay, those idiots are gone, now, no need to worry.”
“Th-thank you, kind ones!” Long-Tail-Shadow exclaimed. She tried to bow, but doing that while seated was difficult, and all she managed to do was bonk her head against the table.
