13 - Give Me Shelter

Sitting in a deerhide-covered chair with the great hound's head in his lap, he regaled Corran and Padu with his tale of the gwyllgi's defeat. In his hand, he had a drinking horn of fey brew, which to Joe tasted a lot like one of his favorite Belgian ales, with its spicy yeast flavor.

He had already collected his reward, though he had a favor due to him, which he was unsure of what to do with.

You have successfully completed [Mane Event].

Reward: 550 Experience and Corran Loigen's favor

It was getting late, and Joe had been talking around the idea of staying the night in the fey house. It was Padu who stopped him. Still able to read her body language, she was telling him he'd be wasting his favor. The old fey would be happy to let him stay and discharge his debt with ease. Corran didn't begrudge Joe the favor, but if someone was going to toss him an easy pitch, Corran was happy to take it.

According to the hunter Joe shouldn't have too much trouble making it back to Fort Coral even in the dark. He suggested Joe not dawdle or daydream but a purposeful jog should see him to the gates unscathed.

Finishing his beer, Joe promised to stop in on his next attempt at the apes, which he hoped would be tomorrow or the next day. The elder fey clapped him on the arm and thanked him again. Padu ever so gently reared up and placed her feet across his shoulders and nuzzled her nose to his cheek, her gratitude pouring off her. Joe scruffed the sweet lady's ribs and back, giving her a gentle hug before disengaging.

With one more backward wave, he set off for the city as the stars began appearing in the sky overhead.

By the time Joe managed to get let back into the city, it was fully dark. Granted, with [Night Eyes], he saw the world as if it were a cloudy day instead of a couple of hours before midnight. Joe had never been one to jump at shadows, but it became pretty obvious the night was robbed of its spookiness when one was unimpaired by the gloom.

He was extremely grateful he had stopped to get his Adventurer's Guild membership before he had left. The current set of guards on duty, who had never seen Joe before, informed him that without his bronze badge, he would have had to find somewhere else to sleep.

The moment the badge came out, though, the tone of the conversation completely changed. The four watchers bandied about several inns and taverns for Joe, depending on his plans for the rest of the evening. For gambling, it was Sticks and Bones by the harbor or the Lucky Leaf if he wanted something closer to the Southern Gate. For carnal companionship, it was Sticks and Bones again, or the Velvet Lily. For straight-up drinking, Sticks and Bones was mentioned once more, at which point Joe realized it was the same two guards who had been offering the same suggestion each time. Clearly, the dwarf and a wolf-like lupin were big fans of the tavern in question.

When Joe admitted he was just looking for a place to crash near the guildhouse, the Captain's Glass was the unanimous consensus, of course, after Sticks and Bones was shot down one last time. The directions to get there were simple enough. Joe just had to follow the main road through the South Wall District until he reached Founder's Plaza and the Adventurer's Guild. The lane beside the guildhouse was Skill Street, and the inn was a few buildings down the road.

Joe used a round of [Effereous Endurance] to boost his slowing steps. It had been a long day. Soon enough, he reached the central square and found the street he wanted. His final destination was easy to spot. The signboard displayed the upper body of a pretty sailor with a large captain's hat. Her arms were crossed under her breasts, one holding a telescope, the other a tall shot of liquor. Joe smiled at the double meaning of the 'captain's glass'.

The lobby was well-furnished. Thick rugs covered the floors, and the lanterns glowed with illuminating crystals. The light from the luminous stone flickered much like candles would, making the atmosphere warm and inviting.

Behind the front desk stood a selkie. Though Joe had seen plenty of these aquatic people here and in Peregrine Harbor, this was the first chance he had to speak with one. Selkies, like his own changeling race, were offshoots of the fey. Earth legends about them said they could switch between a human form and that of a seal.

Selkies had slightly elvish features. They had high cheekbones and large, deeply colored eyes, typically blue or green, but Joe had seen purple too. They could also breathe in air or water, which is why they were commonly found in port towns and around ships.

"Good evening, sir. Are you looking for a room?" the man asked.

"I am," Joe answered as he reached the selkie's counter, running [Identify] over him.

Samshee Beirnunn: Selkie: Host / Surf-rider 13

Samshee flipped open a book and grabbed a pen, dipping it into his inkwell. "For how many nights?"

"Ah, good question. I plan to stay in Fort Coral for a while, but I'll probably rent a long-term room in the upcoming few days. I'd be looking for a couple of days here," Joe supplied, wondering if 'surf-rider' was the equivalent of an Earth surfer.

"In that case, I would recommend Copper Kettle Boardinghouse," Samshee offered in a friendly voice. "It's two blocks east of here and is a well-maintained establishment. Though I don't think they take folks at this hour," the light blue-skinned man remarked. "If you are looking for a boardhouse at this hour and willing to accept someplace a bit more rambunctious, the Swabby's Bunk and the Frayed Knot are favorites of the sailors on long stays. They are lively but still respectable."

"You had me pegged correctly the first time. Quieter would be better. The Copper Kettle sounds great. I think I'll take a room here for the night .. and tomorrow too. I have some errands I'd like to get finished up before I take the time to settle in somewhere."

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"Excellent choice. We will take good care of you. Our common rooms are three silver a night. You will have your own water-closet and breakfast comes with the room." The man looked down at his book and added, "We do have one room left, which includes a sitting room for five silver a night."

"The basic room will be fine," Joe replied, placing the coins on the counter. He received the key and the instructions on how to reach his room. Joe thanked the innkeeper one more time before he headed upstairs. The price seemed well worth the cost as the upstairs was just as nicely appointed as the first floor.

He found his room towards the end of the hall and let himself in. It was a fairly large space with a wide bed and a large glassless window. The shutters were hooked open. There were two small doors. One opened to a miniature clothing closet and the other to a tiny bathroom, with nothing more than a sink and a commode. Joe lifted the lid and found that there was no smelly hole, but instead a clean, deep pan. On the underside of the lid, there was a brass plaque with the following notice.

"Warning - Disintegration: Do not put any organic material against the bottom of the bowl. It will be vaporized."

Joe could see the advantages of a magic toilet over water and pipes; though, it was a slightly terrifying thought to place your privates a foot above a disintegration field. Joe used the sink and a small towel to wash his face and hands before turning out the lights and climbing into bed.

His opinion of the Captain's Glass went up another notch as the mattress was amazingly comfortable, just the right level of firm and soft.

He knew he was tired, but once again, he was wide awake. As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, he was beginning to wonder if he was becoming addicted to the rocking of a ship. He had never slept better than on both of his sea voyages.

He mulled over his day and his plans for tomorrow and for Windsday, which was the day after. After his third time through the same thoughts, he reached out to see if his spectral guide felt like talking.

'Hey, Hawking? Are you busy?'

Your question is illogical. I am always in a state of activity. Currently, I am maintaining the progressions of approximately 18 million beings.

'Oh, never mind. If you are too busy …'

I have more than adequate resources to perform my tasks and converse with you, Joe. Is there something you need?

'Need not so much. I am curious about a few things only you can answer, though.'

Ask your questions.

'Why are there so many similarities to Earth here? I mean, humans look like humans. The other races look like they could have stepped out of Fellowship of the Ring or the Player's Handbook. There are similar expressions and idioms. The ships and architecture are nearly identical to places on Earth. Robin Goodfellow? Even the names of the week are almost the same: SunDay, MoonDay. DewsDay, WindsDay, MersDay, FireDay, StarsDay. Actually, that last one is the only one that is not a dead-ringer, but it is clearly Saturday.'

Illuminaria was created. When it was created, Earth and specific aspects of Earth culture were used as a template for the world.

Joe slid himself up into a sitting position against the headboard of the bed. That was not the answer he had expected. He had just assumed there was some sort of cosmic coincidence between fantasy worlds and Earth. Maybe some sort of universal truth, like math. He had not anticipated Illuminaria having been shaped by his world and its folklore.

He started to reply to the ceiling but realized that would get uncomfortable quickly. Instead, he randomly picked a spot on the wall to think toward.

'So, what is Illuminaria? Corran's creation myth left me with a whole lot of questions. Is it an afterlife? Was I transported to a different world? A different reality? '

There is a complex answer to that question. One that may negatively impact any further interaction you have with the world.

'Why do you say that?'

Because there is already a recorded case of this phenomenon. On learning of the origin of Illuminaria, a transported soul from Earth has utilized that knowledge to alter the world's natural progression.

'I feel like I am pulling teeth here, Hawking. Can you tell who this person was?'

'Is' is the more appropriate tense. The being known as Hoojack97 has become the entity known as the Blood King and is in the process of creating an empire where no such dominion was ever projected to exist. It is due to this occurrence that I am reluctant to elaborate further on the nature of the Illuminaria.

'Wait? The Blood King is some Earth gamer who died like I did?'

Essentially, yes.

'Why not just kick him out then?'

There are wider implications in doing so that we have not yet been able to fully discern.

Joe wanted to press further, but he could also tell that Hawking was reluctant to talk about this topic. He decided to give the spectral being a break and follow another line of thought.

'We? Do you mean you and Anwnn, or are there more like you two ?'

There are more. Each of us oversees a portion of the Existencia, the multiple planes of existence.

An idea hit Joe as Hawking relayed that thought. As did a large yawn. 'So. Robin Goodfellow? Do you prefer that to Hawking?'

No. The name you have given to me is a unique connection, whereas countless Fey who are on our side of what is known as the Veil call on me using Robin Goodfellow. It would be harder for me to distinguish you should you use the more common appellation.

Joe let his thoughts ramble around for a few seconds as his eyes kept drifting shut. Finally, he pulled together one more coherent thought for his spectral companion.

'So I think I am finally starting to get the hang of this world. Any advice yet?' he asked, settling down onto his pillow.

Still no, Joe. Continue to make choices, and you will be fulfilling the purpose of your inclusion into Illuminaria.

'Yeah, I figured that's what you'd say,' Joe lazily thought back, which were his last ones before he slipped off to sleep.

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