Otherworld Squad

MISSION STATUS // 8Hkio4374”@dfEE0 / UNDEFINED / ONGOING

CURRENT LOCATION // 4453 1638 / Adderbite Badlands / Eastern Rillestia

SQUAD STATUS //

SL / 1.Alterfate / OK

SL2 / 2.Riptide / OK

Mdc / 3.Boozehound / OK

Mks / 4.YaLikeBoats? / OK

MG / 5.Pavejack / OK

MGA / 6.WalrossDE / OK

Rfl (AT) / 7.Whimsical Bastard / Wounded (Light)

Rfl (AT) / 8.Vangroover / OK

NEW OBJECTIVE ADDED //

-Secure the Masserlind Succession

RESUPPLY // APPROVED / LIMITED / 00:00

Alter wasn’t sure whether this simplified things or made this situation a whole lot more complicated. What he was sure of, however, was that the nice flat rock next to him looked like a lovely place to sit and process for a moment. To his surprise and relief the general mood and conversation within the rest of the group had not faltered. Oliver, Lucille and Chloe were smiling and laughing along with Whim and Pavejack. They seemed unaware of what had just happened. He wasn't alone though, Riptide and Boozehound were awkwardly sidling over. Alter could just make out the softly glowing white glint in their eyes that told him they were looking at the same text. They joined him at his rock and for a moment all were silent.

“So. This is something, eh?” Riptide spoke quietly as he eyed the others.

“You’ve got that right.” Alter answered slowly.

“Strange that we seem to be the only ones that can see this.” Boozehound added.

“Well, we’re the command team aren’t we? It’s a surprise that not everyone has got some sort of message but honestly I don’t think that’s a bad thing right now.”

“You think we should keep this secret?”

“No, no. I simply figured that there would be a lot more shouting if everyone could see this. I don’t want to scare our new patrons, you know?”

“You sealed the deal?” Riptide’s eyebrows raised.

“Just now. I’m assuming it's what triggered the objective update.”

“Are they about what we expected?”

“Oh Oliver’s the real deal. The only problem is that from what I understand he’s on much shakier ground than we would like.” Alter explained.

Boozehound stepped over and sat down on the rock next to him and let out a slow breath. Alter would’ve continued but he could see the man was gathering his thoughts in order to pose a question.

“So. Does this mean that we’re here specifically to help Oliver? As in, were we transported here for this expressed purpose?” The Frenchman asked.

“I don’t think so. If we were then you’d think that we would’ve been given an objective the moment we set eyes on him. My suspicion is that this is more dynamic. There’s a system at play here and it mimics the game in order to keep us comfortable and moving. There was no set objective when we touched down but now that we’ve picked a path the system is encouraging us to follow it.” Alter allowed his stream of consciousness to run rampant for a while.

“You’ve been thinking huh? Sure I agree we’re not on rails here but come on, this has to be the game.” Riptide smiled.

“Does this feel like a game to you? The sun on your face, the burn in your legs. The blood on your hands. You reckon Simon over there thinks this is a game?” Alter look up at him steadily.

“You know I don’t mean it like that.” Riptide broke their shared gaze.

“Come on you two.” Boozehound chided.

“Sorry. Let’s go over what we’re looking at here. I think we can discount the first line, it doesn’t tell us anything solid, fun as it is to discuss hidden meanings. The odd character string interests me I suppose, it looks like a world seed from an RPG.” Alter frowned as he focused on the floating words.

“That was my first thought too, although Warforce uses letter-only seeds for initial AI spawn locations, everything after that is reactive.” Riptide followed up.

“Line two then. I’d say our location qualifies as being badlands so I’m happy to call this accurate for now. Eastern Rillestia must be the country we’re in but we can’t do much with that intel. That number must be some sort of grid reference, if it's calculated to eight digits then someone or something has this land measured to the tee. Not to doubt the locals but I don’t think they’ll have that level of cartography yet and I’m not aware of the Ordnance Survey covering the multiverse in any real detail. Anything I’m missing?”

“Nothing to add.”

“The squad is the squad, we know Whim’s been battered but I guess this confirms he’s not hiding anything more serious. Skipping the objective description for now, what do you think about this resupply?” He asked.

Riptide fiddled with one of his chest pouches and withdrew an ammo magazine. With curiosity he studied the object for a moment before shrugging and placing it back inside.

“My first thought was that the zeros signified a timer which had immediately expired but my empty magazine is in fact still empty so I don’t think that’s right. My other guess is that the zeroes mean midnight. Resource-wise the only things we’ve expended so far are bullets and water so ‘Limited’ might just be determined by how little we’ve used.”

“I mean hey, bullets, food and water are all we really need. I’m not going to rely on the idea but if midnight rolls around and we do indeed have our ammo mysteriously replenished then that’s huge. We’d no longer be on as much of a ‘usefulness timer’.” Alter replied.

“I’m just hoping my medicine gets included. I’d hate to have to treat a patient with a jar of leeches and rosemary. We wait for tonight then, how many of us will be able to sleep, do you think?” Boozehound asked.

“I know I won’t be able to.”

“Me neither.”

The conversation lapsed into contemplative silence as the three men sat next to each other on the sun-warmed stone. As time passed the text began to fade, soon enough their vision was clear and unimpeded once again. Alter couldn’t help but look around but no words reappeared as his eyes scoured every angle his sockets could provide. He noted that the main group’s conversation had also petered out so he stood and rejoined them, making the suggestion that they should start making some headway. Having secured their equal parts enthusiastic and reluctant agreement, Alter looked out across the dry flats and spotted the wisp of smoke signifying the burning carriage. It made for as good a landmark as any, with a quick hand signal and an encouraging word he set off.

The carriage had been reduced to a smouldering heap by the time they made it back. At Whim’s desperate insistence they kept a wide berth in an attempt to avoid the smell, though Alter couldn’t help but steal glances toward the wreckage. That morbidly curious, dread motivated part of a person’s brain kept trying to spot the outline of human features within the wreckage. He shook his head and focused on the road as they turned onto its worn surface. Time passed comfortably but for some mild foot ache. Once again they took a wide route around the bodies still strewn across the road from their initial ambush. Large birds had begun to flock to the carcasses, vulture-like in appearance but with strange serrated beaks and deep, almost bubbling voices. They cawed and gargled at each other as they squabbled over prime positions to attack the horses, their unknown debates slowed as the party walked by but they didn’t seem aggressive towards them. Alter supposed it was a good thing that nature’s cleaners had arrived to deal with the corpses. Then he shuddered and tried not to think about the sensation of being cut open.

“Will we make it out of the Badlands today?” He asked Oliver as a means to distract his roving thoughts.

“No, we’ve lost too much time. It’s not too much of a problem though, these hills have a number of hidden springs that still well up from rivers deep underground. We’re looking for a species of tree that grows slightly larger than the ones we’ve been passing. There’s also a hardy type of moss that can grow on the rocks around the spring; it adds a dusty green colour to the hills harbouring such a water source.” Oliver explained from atop the horse.

“Will there be a food supply?” Alter followed up.

“That’s a very good question. I suppose we could’ve stopped to collect some horse meat or shoot some of those flaybeaks but I wouldn’t want to risk eating the things. I’m told the moss can be boiled down to make a sort of soup. It sounded lovely from the description.” Oliver’s voice dripped with sarcasm and Alter offered a small prayer to whoever might be watching that his pack contained some sort of food ration.

The sun had begun its awkward flirting with the horizon before a small stand of the trees Oliver had described was spotted. Shadows long and cool clawed at their ankles as they once again took to the slopes of one of the many ridgelines they’d spent the day weaving through. Small patches of olive-green lichens marked their path until they found a shallow pool a handful of square metres wide. Alter was not an experienced camper, the one episode of a Bear Grylls show he’d watched was set in the jungle and didn’t particularly apply to their situation. Oddly and fortunately it was Lucille who immediately began issuing orders with easy confidence and military precision. A three man party was dispatched to gather wood from the trees that had signposted the campsite, Alter quickly found himself tasked with gathering clumps of the lichen for a small pot that had been produced from one of the horses saddlebags. He’d learned that the horse was named ‘Pinecone’. He’d also learned that Pinecone did not like him, and that his boot did little to protect his toes from a horse’s full weight.

The shades of night drew in but were chased away by the warm and vibrant tones of a fire. It seemed that Alter’s prayers had been answered as basic but filling MREs had been discovered at the bottom of each of their packs, along with a compact bedroll and travel pillow. The lichen soup was … well … nourishing? Unique certainly, not unpleasant but he’d hesitate to order it at a restaurant no matter how fancy the bread roll side looked. They had made small talk around the fire as they’d eaten but nothing of any importance had been discussed. Alter had toyed with the idea of bringing up the objective update but he’d remained silent on the matter. Just because the vision had appeared didn’t necessarily mean anything, not without concrete proof. Riptide had set his spent magazine down on a stone near the fire, it remained stoically empty for now but there were a couple of hours before midnight arrived. His friends were only just accepting and adjusting to this new place, he hated the idea of feeding them false hope. Oliver had cautioned them on the possibility of more bandits in the area that would check these pools for weary travellers and that a watch would be needed. Alter had immediately secured the first watch. Sleep would not come easily tonight.

Heck, it might not come at all.