Demiurge/reader Ch. 17
Story by Chezara on SoFurry
a little gameplay in between
You burst through the trees at the edge of the meadow, while your feral friends come to a grinding halt.
Glancing back, you see the pride of Midgardian Mountain Lions slam on the brakes, watching with apprehension as their king strays from them to remain at your side. They long to follow but are unable to discard their natural mistrust of wide, open spaces in the glaring bright of day. They stalk the perimeter of the forest's border, brushing their lightly spotted, fawn coats against one another nervously.
Restrained by no such qualms, you grin as you race through the wild grasses that part like a green sea, your buckskin wrap hiking up over your thighs with each stride. The sun warms your face as you run, and you drink in the sweet air of the untainted wilderness like liquid laughter.
This is what freedom tastes like, and it is the sole reason you love Yggdrasil. Unlike with most players, fighting in the name of a crown or gathering riches means nothing to you. No, you play to be the wild child that you truly are.
You've longed to find something so perfect, where you can be truly untethered by earthly bounds. Here, you've found freedom's fortress; meadows lit by flowers and crystal cascades, majestic mountains and wide open skies that catch fire at sunrise, and glitter with stars like spilled diamonds at nightfall.
Yggdrasil is a reminiscent echo of the natural beauty that Earth once held, before war and economic collapse crippled society into little more than a dystopian wasteland.
If you didn't have to work, eat and sleep once in a while to simply stay alive, you would trade everything away to live here among the trees and the tall, tall grass.
Only your favorite lion with the charcoal gray coat dares to follow you into the meadow, and while he is indeed bigger and braver than the others, he remains cautious, keeping his ears flat and his tail low.
Over a period of three months, you earned his trust by tossing him scraps of meat from your kills. Here, your wild heart thrives as you live off the land and its natural resources. It is frighteningly easy to forget that everything here, save for other players, are but complex code when you can feel individual blades of grass beneath your feet and the warmth of the Mountain Lion's fur beneath your fingers. Hell, you can even smell the smoke of your campfire that has soaked into your clothes.
No matter how often you remind yourself that this is merely a game, you no longer see the lions as ones and zeroes- you have given them names, learned their body language and studied their hierarchy. They interact with one another much like a pride of African lions, but also display wolf-like behavioral characteristics. The one with the dark fur you believe to be the alpha or king of the pride because as soon as he lost his fear of you, the rest of the cats followed his example.
His head reaches as high as your hip and his paws are the size of dinner plates. He is two hundred pounds of solid muscle and you've watched him bring down a Meadow Elk single-handedly with a suffocation bite to the throat. A well-aimed swat from him could likely break your neck, but you trust that he won't. The king lion stalks next to you and brushes his cheek over your thigh, asking for a head scratch. You oblige and he rumbles with a purr.
These creatures are among your favorites in Yggdrasil. They are highly intelligent, and both protective and affectionate towards the members of their group, and you are no exception- Umbra's tongue scrapes over the back of your hand in a rough lick.
It is mid spring, and wildflowers dapple the marvelous expanse of green with scarlet, magenta and canary yellow. Swiveling back toward the forest's edge, you watch the rest of the pride pace anxiously in their hesitation to leave the safety of shadow. They are primarily nocturnal, hiding from man under the cover of night.
"Guys, come on…" You try coax the pensive felines out. "There is no one around here for miles!"
Seeing that they are not to be swayed, you give up, turning your back and darting over the crest of a low hill. You are searching for flint boulders to build a new spear; the head of your last one cracked on the skull of a Helheim Hartebeest, a straggler of their great migration.
A cool burst of cornflower blue catches your eye, a chill of ice among a field of fire. You charge towards it, wading through the thick Bermuda-like grasses to examine the unique bloom. Kneeling before it, your eyes widen.
It is blue with a center that glitters as though composed of crystal, its petals thin and curled, akin to those of a spider lily, but the likes of which you have never laid eyes on.
Utterly entranced, you reach for it, folding your hands beneath its delicate crown, cupping it gently like a fragile little bird.
Thunder rolls in the distance, reverberating through your bones. Glancing up, you find the sky to be cloudless.
'Odd.' You don't smell the mineral scent of moisture in the air either, and you look to the lion, whose ears prick forward.
The ominous rumble deepens, but nothing strikes you as being amiss until the earth begins to tremble beneath your bare feet, and Umbra growls. Your heart plummets as you rise to your feet, whirling on your heel to behold an exquisite covered chariot drawn by four horses crawling over the hill.
Your breath hitches at the frightfully majestic sight; the ornate vehicle appears to be crafted from varnished cherry wood and is trimmed with gold. The early noon sun glares off it, scattering blinding darts of light across your vision.
The Lion's face wrinkles into a vicious snarl, and with a hair-raising roar it summons the rest of the pride. You were sure the equines would spook at the thunderous cry, but they did not so much as flinch.
Your mind blanks in shock. In the distance you can hear the bellows of the pride as they rush to their king's aid from the forest's edge, forgoing their fear of the open while you remain bolted to the ground, paralyzed by disbelief.
This area is so deep in the wilderness that you only see other players once in a blue moon, and typically because they are either lost or hunting- when these newcomers tread through your territory, you hide amongst the brush or in the trees to ensure you're never seen. If you are lucky, they camp for the night and you jack a few supplies when they doze off. But never have you been without your spear when one rolls through. And now, with a broken weapon, you have no means to defend yourself save for the lions' protection.
The stranger drives their chariot within perilous proximity, guiding the beasts mere inches from your frozen form. Time slows to a delirious crawl and the earth churns with the beats of their hooves as they come to a halt. The equines stomp in place, foaming at the mouth as they champ at the bit.
At no less than eighteen hands high at the withers, they are the biggest horses you have ever laid eyes on. Their necks and hindquarters are armored, and between the plated segments of polished silver their coats reflect a luxurious gleam like black satin.
They snort and shake their manes, and your stomach flips as you notice the wicked silvery horns are not a part of ornate chanfrons, but are actually sprouting from their skulls to curve around their heads in elegant arcs.
Bicorns. You have only read about such beasts of legend, but have yet to see one; they are the equine of choice for battle purposes and are typically chosen by heteromorphs, and here an entire team of them stand before you.
The door to the coach suddenly swings open, and the driver ducks to step out and unfolds, rising to his full height.
'Holy shit.' You've never seen anyone so tall or massive. He is easily six and a half feet tall, with mile wide shoulders and a chest as broad as a refrigerator.
He is cloaked in a black, double-breasted military style trench coat and a horned, porcelain mask conceals his face. His ears are inhuman- long, pointed and adorned with golden rings and cuffs. They jut out from straight black hair that ends just above his shoulder blades. The heavy boots on his feet look as though they were made for crushing skulls.
Man, you are so fucked if this guy decides he wants a piece of you.
The Mountain Lion at your side chuffs, and then slowly backs up with his yellow, saber-like fangs bared. You watch from your peripheral as Umbra circles broadly, and you don't dismiss the possibility that if things go south, he may bolt.
The pride also keeps their distance until Umbra chooses to lead an attack, but they remain intently fixated on the giant who towers over you. If they are afraid of him, you should be nothing short of terrified.
The stranger takes a slow step forward, and you take a cautious step back.
A sweep of silver skirting along the hem of his cloak draws your attention. A steely, arrow-shaped head edged with spikes sways to and fro; a tail.
He is of the Demon or Devil class.
"I admit, I am surprised to see a human here in the heart of the wilderness. My apologies for startling you and your friend, but I have been searching all over for this particular bloom; I require it to manufacture a medicine for my mare. Have you already laid claim to it?" His voice is smooth, deep and dark, like black velvet.
Tongue-numbing shock renders you mute, and stare up at him dumbly before adrenaline finally flips your brain back on.
"Um... n-no. No, I haven't." You stammer, admittedly taken aback by his polite demeanor.
The giant tilts his head slightly. "Hmm. I witnessed you examining it as I crested the hill, so I fear you are only allowing me to have my way due to our power imbalance. So, I ask that you allow me to at least pay you its value in coin." The giant slips a hand into his cloak and you tense on the chance that he is reaching for a weapon, but he instead produces a red velvet pouch with a braided yellow drawstring. He extends his arm to pass it to you, and your fingers flex at your side as you hesitate.
Demons are infamous for their trickery. But damn, can you really pass up some free coin when you lack a weapon? What's more, the opportunity to arm yourself with something more efficient than a spear?
"It's alright, I promise I will not bite." He assures, and you can hear what sounds to be a smile in his voice.
Slowly, you extend your arm with a thick swallow, and allow him to drop the pouch into your hand. The weight of the bag as it plops into your palm is shocking- just how much money did he give you?
A furtive glance at the partially drawn mouth of the bag reveals a glitter of not copper, nor silver, but gold.
'OH. Oh, damn! That must be one rare flower.'
As he withdraws, you notice each finger of his leather-clad hand ends in curved talons, and they utterly dwarf your own.
He could snap you like a twig, and all too easily.
"If I may make a suggestion, you should consider arming yourself. Bandits are known to rove these woods and are quite merciless." The demon cautions.
"Uh... I - I'm kind of new here. I had crafted a spear, but it broke after a while." You sheepishly admit and run a hand through your hair. "What kind of weapon do you think would be best for both offense and defense?"
Umbra creeps closer towards him with nostrils flaring and eyes wide. While his body language speaks volumes of distrust, he is no longer growling.
"A spear, while good for hunting prey, does not put enough distance between you and an enemy. Something light and with range would be more preferable. I believe a bow, throwing knives or shuriken would be ideal for your situation." He advises and then bends at the waist to pluck the flower from the earth.
His advice seems sound, and with a gilded chariot and coin like this to burn, he must be exceptionally skilled.
"Okay, thank you! Can you tell me where I can purchase something?"
You watch with apprehensive interest as the demon reaches into his coat and pulls an oblong specimen container from an internal pocket.
"The nearest village with a blacksmith is a little over two hour's ride South." He replies as he slides the flower into the glass tube and then corks it.
Damn it.
"I take it you have no steed?"
You hang your head with a weary sigh. "No."
"If you would like, I can at least take you there. The journey alone would be perilous without a means of defense, even with your friends at your side." The stranger cautions.
The fact that he does not refer to them as beasts or lions, but your friends gives you an odd sense of comfort. It is as though he understands they are not mere code or animals to you.
Perhaps you can trust him. If he came here with ill intentions, he could have simply snapped your neck, taken the flower and gone about his merry way.
But he didn't.
However, his mask makes you uneasy, and still begs the question... what or why is he hiding?
"However, I understand if you do not trust me; you have little reason to. So, if you would prefer, I will supply you with a low-grade weapon so you may safely make it to the village."
"Okay. That would be great, actually." You accept. "Do you have throwing knives?"