Otherworld Squad

Step by uneasy step the squad made their way down the slope towards where the Medusids had curled up and disappeared. It was a struggle for Alter as he split his attention between keeping his footing as he descended, making sure his rifle was trained on the creature’s last known location, and keeping an eye on the thermal scope Boats was carrying next to him. Fortunately, the picture remained blessedly clear. However Alter couldn’t help but wish the proximity warning they received was accompanied by some sort of ‘All Clear’ message once the combat was resolved. Still, you can’t have everything, and it was much better than blindly stumbling into a greek-mythologically accurate cassowary.

As they reached flat ground they organised themselves into a chevron formation and proceeded carefully towards their target. Alter felt a strange pull on his body as he edged closer to the impact zone. It was as if he had stepped into an invisible river, some unknown current tugged at his body with quiet insistence. His initial surprise was quickly overtaken by curiosity as he began to explore the limits of this new discovery. With some probing and meandering he was able to roughly determine that the spaces within two metres of each Medusid’s last positions were being influenced by a weak gravitational field. There was a certain magnetic property to the centre of these zones that strongly repelled his attempts at investigation. Like trying to push two magnets of the same polarity together, a beach ball sized sphere one metre above the ground stubbornly refused him entry. Ironic, that this force which was so desperate to pull him in was simultaneously resolute in keeping him at arm's reach.

“What are we thinking?” He asked as he stepped backwards away from the gravity well he’d been studying.

“That weird shit is weird? We just killed a bunch of invisible cryptids, what are we supposed to think?” Riptide moved to stand next to him and crossed his arms as he surveyed the scene.

“Well, I’m wondering if these creatures are actually dead or not. Maybe they’re in some sort of stasis?” Alter worried.

“You reckon they’ll just pop back into existence in a couple of hours? You saw what happened to them. Besides, we don’t have time to hang around here all day on the off chance they do.”

“I know, do you suppose we should put a couple of rounds through the middle of each of the spheres? Just to be safe.” He insisted.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It wouldn’t surprise me if the forces at play in there slingshotted the bullets right back at us. Although it would be funny.”

“Hey, check this out.” Walross called from the opposite side of the road.

The pair moved to join him as he crouched down and used a pointed finger to indicate a patch of ground by their feet.

“Do you notice how the dirt here is slightly disturbed and a shade darker? There’s blood here, or at least some equivalent of blood. Again, completely invisible.” He explained.

Walross stood up and raised one foot before bringing it down heavily in the centre of the pool. There was no splash as his boot impacted the ground but Alter felt something liquid hit one of his legs, and as he looked down he could see that the fabric of his boots was speckled with small moist blotches as the unseen blood was absorbed.

“Now cast your eyes over a wider area. If you look closely, you can see there are similar pools and splatter marks all over the place. That’s a lot of blood to lose, even if you're a large creature. That frag round did more than enough damage, we shouldn’t need to worry.” He concluded.

“Yeah, now that I know what I’m looking for I can see that this place is pretty gorey. I vote we move on, these things are dead, forcefields or no.” Boats joined the conversation.

Alter was still uncertain but was clearly outvoted. With a shrug he radioed for Boozehound and Vangroover to bring Oliver and the others up to them. A minute later they emerged from around the hillside, his squad members had their weapons levelled and ready but they quickly lowered them when they saw the relaxed stances of the others. An anxious looking Oliver was less easily reassured however and he demanded a full explanation of what had just happened. Alter did his best to summarise exactly what it was they had engaged but this did little to settle the man down.

“You’re absolutely certain you’ve slain these monstrosities?” He asked.

“As certain as I can be.” Alter lied.

“How on earth were you able to spot them? Actually never mind that, how did you all know they were here in the first place?” Oliver’s voice began to stray toward the shouting side of volume.

Alter sighed internally and turned his gaze towards his gathered friends. Their looks were passive, sympathetic even, but Alter could spot their silent enjoyment of his discomfort. Well, there was no skirting the issue now, deeper explanations would have to be given. So Alter began his careful explanation of the hostile proximity warning. Oliver looked like he was about to ask more questions but Lucille was the first to speak.

“It looks as if you too are blessed by Nerrothyll! To have met so many Soulkindlers out in this wasteland is a great fortune. Have you always possessed this power?” She clapped her hands together enthusiastically.

“We have only gained this power recently ma’am.” Alter responded.

“So you automatically receive a warning every time an enemy approaches you?” Oliver asked.

“In a manner of speaking, but it's not that cut and dry. For example we received no warning when we attacked the bandits watching your burning carriage. Additionally, we only received the warning at the fort once we had already burst through the gateway and opened fire. I think our enemies have to be ready and able for this ability to trigger. If they’re not expecting a fight, we get nothing.”

“This power is not infallible then, you could wander into a den of snakes and be completely unaware of the danger so long as they too are not expecting you.” Oliver mused.

“I suppose so, yes.”

“And what of your weapons?” He pivoted, perhaps sensing the fact that no further information was forthcoming.

“There’s nothing magical about them, it’s all pure technology. These devices are unique to us, you won’t find anything like them anywhere in the world. Well, not to this standard anyway. Think of them as highly advanced bows for now, we can get into technicalities at a later date should you so wish.” Alter tried to keep his face serene but he could feel his body tensing up as he awaited the coming response.

“I’m never quite sure what you're going to say next, but I believe you. We can discuss your powers in greater detail once we’re back in my home territory. As for these beasts you have told us about, I have no idea what they could have been. But I know of books that hold records of such things. We can investigate that too, later.” Oliver moved on.

Alter was surprised that he was not on the receiving end of an intense grilling, but he was not about to complain. The label of Soulkindler should be useful in the short term but there were some longer term issues that could arise. He didn’t know if this religion had a dedicated clergy, or strict rules its ‘blessed’ were made to abide by. What if there was an inquisition equivalent here? Alter shook his head violently in an effort to stop his brain from charging off on a panicked tangent. There would be time for discovery later, for now there was walking to do.

With many a nervous glance over their shoulders, the squad resumed its progress westward. Boats continued to flick the thermal scope on and off, checking the rear until they passed the two hundred metre line. Once crossed, he reported the scope had consumed a full quarter of its battery life before stowing it away again. As they tramped ever onward the landscape continued its slow change around them. As the midday sun reached its zenith, Alter couldn’t help but feel as if its strength had waned somewhat. The ground reflected this feeling as the plantlife grew increasingly verdant and plentiful. Gone was the bare rock of the badlands, this area resembled something of a savannah type environment. For the first time in what seemed like a small eternity the bright notes of birdsong met his ears.

The road too began to change as they made further headway and the first signs of civilization began to appear. Lengths of wooden fencing that had fallen into disuse lined their path, marker stones painted white appeared at regular intervals, and at one point a small herd of goats could be seen browsing the low branches of trees a short distance off the path. Small side tracks began to flow into the road like tributary streams joining a river, as each one passed the road became more obviously used. Hoofprints and cart wheel tracks turned the once smooth surface into a choppy sea of ridges and divots. Basic agriculture began to permeate the landscape, scattered fields of semi-wild looking cereal crops that could be happily left alone appeared first. By the time mid afternoon rolled in these fields had expanded significantly and more recognisable crops such as wheat and barley stood in close ranks. Clusters of rough but well made looking wooden huts and cottages began to spring up nearby, farmers and day labourers could be seen moving to and fro like ants. Alter expected some of these people to speak to their group, but although they were certainly noticed the local population kept its distance. Although whether this caution was due to the presence of strangers or apparent nobility he wasn’t sure.

Finally, as the shadows of the trees began their evening inroads across the ground, the welcome sight of a walled town appeared in the distance. The road had once again evolved from dusty track to churned farm lane to the now well trodden cobbles of a trade road. They were still surrounded by fields however the recognisable shapes of industry could be seen scattered throughout the golden waves. A trio of windmills stood sentinel on a small hilltop off to the side, their canvas sail rotating steadily in the late afternoon breeze. Idyllic was the word that sprang to mind. It was as if they had stepped into one of those forgotten landscape paintings you spent five to ten seconds gazing at in a gallery before moving on to that portrait with the funny face. The stone of the walls was a steely grey, strong, stark and defiant against the soft colours of nature. A gate stood open before them with wooden portcullis raised. A pair of men in a mixture of leather and chainmail, spears in hand, snapped quickly to attention as the group approached. Alter had been concerned about how they would enter the town but he need not have worried. This was the land owned by Lucille’s family after all, and it seemed the guard held a healthy respect for their custodians. They passed the guardsmen and walked through the cool shade of the wall into a bustling scene as the passageway opened out into a market square. Brightly coloured stalls vied for attention as their tenders shouted and hawked their wares. Fruits and vegetables were the mainstay, but more specialist products were on offer throughout. Leatherworkers and toolsmiths had overtaken one corner, a young lady with bright blonde hair waved brilliantly coloured flower bunches above her head, from somewhere in the centre the smell of cooked meat wafted into their nostrils. Collectively, the squad’s shoulders sagged in relief.

They’d made it.

Now what?