Silver Peak, page 8
part #2 of Sky Realms Online Series
The forest was beautiful, the parts they saw of it.
Tall trees, the trunks getting thicker and the branches higher the deeper they walked into the depths of the Fallen Green Forest. Old growth that had not been disturbed, allowed to spread and reach for the sky. Grass-covered hills, with flat boulder-covered tops. Valleys and dells, streams running along the bottoms. They passed by two decent sized ponds, watching the surfaces ripple as something passed beneath.
Eventually, they arrived at the outskirts of the village.
The first sign was the disappearance of the animal noises. The woods had been alive with the sounds. Squirrels running through the trees, rustling the branches. Birds chirping and flying, their wings beating as they soared through the sky. Pike squawked in frustration, wanting to fly off and hunt or soar over the woods, but Hall kept him grounded. He felt the talons as Pike squeezed his shoulder, the dragonhawk watching a chipmunk dart up a tree.
Now, there was no noise, and Hall knew they were close.
Ahead, two Firbolgs stepped out from behind large maple trees. Each wore the strange leather and wood armor over their chests, lower legs, and arms, and each wore a helm carved to resemble antlers. The guards carried a shield and warhammer. They nodded as Jackoby walked by, giving hard glares to Hall and the others.
Hall studied them, pulling their basic information, remembering to do so. It was hard, he realized. Seeing the status of a target, friendly or not, had come naturally before. Now, he was forgetting how some older, common game mechanics translated into this new life. Looking at someone to get information about them was not something he would have done in the real world. It was part of no longer thinking of Sky Realms as a game.
Skill Gain!
Identify Rank 1 +.2
Brownpaw Border Guardian
Brownpaw Border Guardian
Just past the guards, a trail cut into the forest. On either side of the trail stood two tall totem poles. Eight feet tall, two feet in diameter, carved from a shining and dark wood. Hall realized it was ironwood. Which was odd as he didn’t remember any growing in this forest. Ironwood was a high-level, harvestable material used by crafters, the same material as his new spear. The totems were richly detailed, every line tight, without any wear showing. Each totem showed a large bear standing on its hind legs, growling head staring into the woods. Perched on top of each bear was an eagle with wings spread.
The totems were beautiful, shining in the sun. The level of detail was amazing, each feather intricately carved, the fur of the bear’s hackles standing up. The carvings were polished, the darkness of the wood having variations. Hall was impressed by the workmanship.
They stood six feet or so apart, the trail just wide enough for two Firbolgs to walk side by side. The floor of the trail had been worked smooth, roots and stumps removed from the path, the ground hard-packed, branches along the sides pruned.
Jackoby did not wait for them to examine the totems. If anything, the Firbolg Warden increased his pace. Hall and the others had to rush to keep up, the Firbolgs behind them prodding them on. He saw that the two Firbolg Hunters that had been flanking them were now in the rear with the others. The trail curved to the south, and they continued for another hour.
More totems lined the path, stone walls in other spots. They passed what looked to be fields with no buildings visible, just wide-open lands for farming. Some Firbolgs could be seen working in the fields. Large beasts that looked like moose, called Alcest, were hitched to wagons or plows. They had shaggy hair around their forelocks, thick hooves, standing as tall as a Firbolg’s shoulder. Wide and strong looking animals, they had large heads with tusks that grew out from the underside of their heads. Wide antlers with many points grew from the forehead. Shaggy coats in whites and browns, with a few black.
Herds of wild Alcest roamed the highlands to the north, and Hall had been unlucky enough to fight some. The animals were strong and fast, using the tusks and antlers in combat as well as kicking out. They looked like moose but had many traits of horses, which is why they served as the mounts for the large Firbolgs.
The fields gave way to forest again, thick and old. Ahead, through the trees, Hall could see the canopy thinning. A clearing just ahead. The trail opened onto the ridge, showing the view of the forest below. They followed the path as it turned, paralleling the ridge, a wooden fence along the cliffside. Trees on the other side and an almost sheer drop on the other with the railing alternating with a low hedge. The land started to slope down.
Hall knew they were approaching the Firbolg village of Green Ember. He recognized the path as it was similar to the one leading to the village in the game. Ahead, the trail would curve away from the ridge, which in the game wasn’t as high, and open into a large clearing with a dozen homes. Firbolg homes were large but simple. Built of logs with low-pitched roofs. Green Ember homes had all faced a central square. He was expecting something different. All the cities were different. Larger, more full of life.
He discovered that even expecting Green Ember to be different, he was still very wrong.
The forest ended, the path continuing down a gentle slope with Green Ember spread out before them. Terraces, eight levels, were cut into the side of the hill sloping down to the forest below at the bottom of the ridge. The path widened, becoming a road that met with others leading to the top terrace, other roads visible far below that led away from the lowest terrace. The road switchbacked as it continued down terrace to terrace and ending at the lowest, a long line cutting across the hill.
Buildings, homes, and shops were built along the terraces. Some were two stories, the upper story having an entrance on the higher terrace, others a single story with flat roofs that became gardens or areas of grass. Wooden staircases ran alongside those. Between some of the homes were steep ramps or sets of stairs going from terrace to terrace. Parts of the homes could be seen extending into the hillside, putting them under the roads above. The exposed parts were made from logs with thick glass-filled windows. Each story was taller than any Human dwelling.
The central terrace widened out, a large statue in the middle with benches arrayed around it. Firbolgs, men and women, could be seen wandering the streets, moving from home to home. Trees and planters were spaced along the street, provided color and shade. A small pond, the water crystal clear, was below the steep cliff a short distance from the village proper, homes along the shores.
Hall counted at least a hundred buildings, with more scattered around the lower forest floor so far below. Green Ember was much larger than he had ever imagined it would be. And peaceful, full of light. The original village had been surrounded by trees, the canopy thick and blocking most of the sun. This village, town really, was open. The ridge was exposed, open to the land around.
“Wow,” Roxhard said, voicing what Hall was thinking.
“Come,” Jackoby growled, impatient, from further down the path.
The Firbolg had kept walking while they had stopped in amazement. Hall nudged Roxhard, and they started walking again, the Dwarf’s eyes wandering the village.
They followed the path to where it became the road, continuing past the first row of buildings. Each log that made up the buildings seemed to be at least a foot in diameter, carefully smoothed to remove all bark, polished and sanded. They fit tightly together, the top ones just below the flat roofs, were longer, sticking out a foot or two past the walls. The ends of each of those were carved. Bears, eagles, great cats, and even otters.
The level of detail was amazing, Hall thought as he looked up at one as they passed. He noticed images carved into the logs over the doors. Pictures of animals, runes, and other symbols.
Jackoby turned down a set of stairs, leading them to the next terrace. Stone, made from the granite of the ridge, the stairs were set for Firbolg size. The rise of the steps just a little off for Hall, even more for the shorter Roxhard, who had a hard time walking down them. Turning to the right, Jackoby led them to another set of stairs between two houses.
Down they went, zigzagging their way down the terraces to the central one. They passed by one shop, the front open to the street, and Hall didn’t notice Sabine stopping until she called his name. Walking back to join her, he looked into the shop.
A lone Firbolg woman, her tan fur showing streaks of gray that marked her age, was standing in front of three young Firbolgs. Two boys and a girl, no older than sixteen if that. The elderly woman had a hand raised, fingers outstretched, and was tracing them across the surface of a stone tablet she held. Where the fingers passed, a line of green followed. It glowed, softly, the line solid as if painted onto the stone. She finished and held the tablet for the Firbolg children to see. Green lines crossed over others, a square forming around a circle.
Pulling her fingers into a fist, she snapped the first two, and the green light flared and disappeared but a faint outline was etched into the stone. Setting the tablet down, she stepped back, motioning the children to do the same. Once they were clear, she barked a single word and the lines drawn onto the tablet flared once again and a shaft of green flames shot out from the glowing carved lines. A small column, only two feet high or so. It died out a couple seconds later. The woman smiled and asked the younger Firbolgs a question in their language.
“What was that?” Sabine asked, staring at where the green lines had been floating.
The older Firbolg woman noticed them looking. She studied Sabine for a moment before turning and motioning at the younger Firbolgs to bring their attention back to her. They had all turned when Sabine had spoken, watching the newcomers with fascination.
Hall wondered if they had ever seen Humans or Dwarves before.
“Move,” one of the Firbolg behind them said, stepping forward and motioning with his hammer.
Jackoby had paused at the top of another set of stairs. He scowled at them. Sabine started walking, but her head turned back to look at the building and the older Firbolg inside.
The Firbolg leader led them to the large square in the center of the terrace. The statue was made of ironwood polished to a dark sheen. A bear, sitting on its haunches. Easily fifteen feet tall, the statue dominated the square, wooden benches set in rows facing it.
Turning, Jackoby led them to a building that faced the square. The largest in town. Three stories, a balcony off the top, with a steep, sloping roof. A log formed a ridge beam that ran past the walls a couple of feet, the end carved into a roaring bear. Each of the corners under the roof held similar totem heads. All bears, different poses.
Standing outside the large building, to the right of the doors, was a Settlement Stone. Like the one that stood in Hall’s village of Skara Brae, this stone was four to five feet tall. A light gray obelisk, square that tapered to the top. Nine inches wide at the base, six wide at the top where the four sides came together into a point. Runes were carved across its surface as it sat on a wider pedestal a couple inches off the ground.
The stone granted many powers to the ruler, or rulers, of a village. All functions of the village were accessed and somewhat controlled from the stone. Hall had just barely touched the surface of what the stone’s menus showed.
Open double doors, nine feet tall, led inside. Jackoby motioned for them to follow as he entered the building. The first floor was wide open, two stories tall, a set of stairs along the right-hand sidewall. Four great pillars stood in the corners of the room, more totems than structural, running from floor to ceiling. Animal heads were carved into them, rows of carved symbols between the heads.
A firepit was in the middle of the space, sunk down, the wooden floor leading up to it and stopping a foot or so shy. Logs were stacked in the pit, none lit. Tapestries hung on the walls, finely made but lacking in colors. Grays, browns, and blacks, nothing bright. They depicted Firbolg in battle, Firbolg farming. Armed Firbolg lined the walls, ten to each side and four near the doors. Hall could hear noises coming from the room above, most likely more guards.
Hall thought they were all there because of the party. He had wondered why they had been allowed to enter with their weapons. Now he knew. They were badly outnumbered. He wondered if it was a test of some kind. Give them their weapons and see if they could be pushed to attack.
At the far end was a single chair on a raised stage. Sitting in the chair was the oldest Firbolg that Hall had ever seen. She was stooped, hunched over, a thick wooden and gnarled staff held in hand. Her fur had gone to all gray, and she wore a simple green robe. Darker gray stripes lined the exposed fur of her arms, bands around her eyes that turned and ran down her neck. Her eyes were bright still, showing interest as Jackoby led them forward. Next to her was a Firbolg male, similar coloring to Jackoby, but taller. This one had dark stripes along his cheeks.
“Come closer,” the elderly Firbolg, the village leader, said. Her voice was strong. “What have you brought to us, my son?”
Hall glanced at Jackoby in surprise. The Firbolg was the son of the village leader?
Her gaze fell on Hall. He felt her sizing him up, studying him.
“You are Hall, the new Lord of Skara Brae?” she asked and didn’t bother waiting for a response.
He wondered how she knew his name. There had been no introductions exchanged. Back in Grayhold on the first day when Guard Captain Henry had known his name, Hall thought it part of the game’s coding. NPCs had always automatically known Players’ names. It had ruined the immersion but had saved time. Is that what happened with a high enough Identify skill? Everyone could just Identify the person and find out the name. Hall now realized that was how Henry had known his name.
The elderly Firbolg’s gaze fell upon Leigh.
“Leigh, is it not? You are the new Custodian?”
Leigh nodded, shrinking under the gaze, but then she stood straight, finding her confidence, matching the elderly Firbolgs stare.
“I am.”
“How did such as you—” the male Firbolg standing next to the elder started to ask and paused, his voice a growl. He made Jackoby seem friendly. He shook his head and barked a laugh. “There is no way you defeated the Custodian. None of you are above Level Four.”
Hall looked at the Leigh, Sabine, and Roxhard; they all looked to him, waiting to follow his lead. He sighed. Thoughts of lying passed through his mind, quickly. That was not a good way to start off an alliance and that was what he was there for.
“We got lucky,” he said. “Vertoyi, the corrupted Custodian, would have killed us but she,” he pointed at Leigh, “showed him the corruption he had caused. In the end, he took his own life to end that corruption.”
He had never looked to see what level Vertoyi was. Twelve at least. Higher than they had thought the Druid would have been. By taking his own life, Hall and the others had missed out on a good amount of experience.
But they also had not died. It was a tradeoff Hall was fine with.
The Firbolg warrior laughed, mocking, but the elder smiled.
Skill Gain!
Identify, Rank 1 +.4
Yarbole of the Brownpaw
Level 15 Clan Chieftain
Baskily of the Brownpaw
He was surprised that he got a level reveal on the elderly Firbolg but not the other. He looked at Yarbole and saw her smiling. Had she allowed her Level to be viewed?
Hall didn’t know exactly what a Clan Chieftain was exactly. The NPC class, what its role was at least, that was obvious. But what were the Class Abilities and what were Yarbole’s skills? The elderly Firbolg was one of the highest Levels they had encountered yet. He thought about what Leigh had said. Higher Levels were rare. Most people living in the realms, the NPCs, were Level Four to Six with some rare going higher and almost legendary figures making it to Level Twenty. It was almost unheard of for a person to get to Level Twenty-Five.
Adventuring was the best way to gain experience, and there were few people that took up that path. Too dangerous. Most people took the safer road, gaining experience through their class quests and other minor occurrences. Which was why they were so low.
Baskily, the younger Firbolg that stood on the platform, was going to be trouble, Hall knew. He seemed older than Jackoby and not just in Level. Hall hoped it didn’t mean Baskily was going to be the future Brownpaw chieftain. Or elder. Or whatever the clan of Firbolgs called their leader.
She hadn’t said much, but Hall just felt like Yarbole would be the easier one to deal with. There was a grandmotherly aura to her.
“It does not matter how Vertoyi died,” Hall started, wanting to get on some solid footing, thinking that he would invest in the Negotiate skill. “It only matters that he is dead. Leigh is the new Custodian, and she will cleanse the corruption.”
Baskily started to say something, but Yarbole held up her hand. The other quieted instantly.
“The Grove is far from here,” she said in her cracking voice. “But all things are connected to the Branches of the World Tree, even the forest we call home.” She motioned with her staff, making a circular motion. “We felt the corruption of the Grove, saw its effects. It is good that the corruption will end,” she finished and gave a respectful nod to Leigh, who returned it. Angus mooed, and the old Firbolg chuckled.
Hall started to speak, but she held up a hand.
“My son...” She made a motion toward Jackoby who had moved off to the side. The Firbolg glared at Hall and the others. “He tells me that you wish to discuss trade relations with the Brownpaw.”
Here we go, Hall thought.
“I do,” Hall said to her. “But my first goal was to meet our new neighbors.”
“You have met us,” Baskily growled. “Now you may leave.”
The elderly chief of the Brownpaw laughed and shook her head. She reached out her free hand and laid it on Baskily’s arm.
