Downtown in Fantasyland

[Katrielle Layton]

"Mercenary?" Hunter repeated, his voice tinged with uneasiness. Back home, mercs weren't necessarily appreciated-- in fact, working outside of Britain in that line of work was outright illegal. And even if it was legal, the very word seemed to indicate a person lacking moral fiber; Hayes wasn't really that kind of person. ...Then again, this wasn't Britain. Plus, he always had the option to deny jobs if they felt out of line. "I suppose I wouldn't be against it. Mostly depends on our clientele, I guess. I mean, I wouldn't take jobs that went against my standards unless absolutely necessary. ...Although I'm not much of a fighter, and that's kind of a prerequisite for being a mercenary. I'll see if the next town we find has a training field or something."


They continued for quite some time along the road, until eventually the road split into two, with a wooden sign pole indicating where the paths led. ...At least, that's what the brunet assumed, because when they drew closer, he realized that the directions were etched in a language he didn't understand. The symbols didn't appear to be alphabetical, but rather pictoral, like hieroglyphics. However, Hunter couldn't recognize any similarities to any of the other languages he knew existed. Slightly embarrassed, he turned toward the warchief. "Uh, Sylvan? Don't suppose you know this language?"

"Unfortunately, no. It's unfamiliar to me in every way," was the reply. "Looks like we'll have to guess."

"...Wait, how is it you and I both know English and yet neither of us can read this? Is English literally the universal language?"

"Well, it might be because it's written."

"So it's basically that stage in learning a language when you can speak it but not read or write it."

"Probably. Now let's decide which path to take."

Normally in this sort of scenario, one would use visual clues, but in this case there were none to consult-- neither road revealed wear and tear from travel, the population of trees remained about the same wherever they looked, and from the way the signs were written on, the two destinations were similar in importance (if it was in English, a similar version would resemble something like "Carlton" and "Hammington" instead of the more helpful "Carlton" and "Village of Death"). In the end, they took the path on the right.

Things stayed mostly unchanged until twenty minutes or so along the road, where the plains started to resemble a forest. The path began to fade out, forcing the two to slow down and scan the area for it whenever they lost sights of it. "This... doesn't seem to be the right path," the wolf murmured, glancing around at all of the foliage that had encroached on them.

The apotropaist slowed to a stop. "We should probably turn around, then."

"Wait," announced the lupine, pointing out of the carriage. "Other travelers are approaching from the other direction." And indeed they were; a wooden carriage painted red rolled along on rickety wheels. It had a bunch of spikes on it, but the more interesting and probably more urgent detail was that the vehicle was being pulled along by a massive scorpion (and by massive, it was about horse-sized). its pincers clipping through the overgrowth like a pair of scissors.

"What." The concept of a scorpion large enough to lug around a carriage left the orphanage-owner's brain spinning in surprise, although in hindsight that was probably one of more normal things to have happened that day. "Oh, no arthropod should ever be that big..." Silently, he hoped the newcomers would pass by, but Sylvan had other plans.

The warchief waved down the other vehicle, and it stopped right in front of them. The bronze horses shuffled in their reins, both afraid of and curious about the giant scorpion. The giant scorpion, on the other hand, couldn't have cared less, plopping down on the ground and wrapping its stinger around itself as it watched the strangers warily. The door of the red carriage opened, and deciding it was best to remain polite, Hunter opened his own door in turn.

"Lok'tar!" greeted the stranger, although he wasn't visible from where the human was standing.

"Ah, hello," Hunter managed, and Sylvan did the same. "I'm Hunter and this is Sylvan. We were wondering where this road lea--" And at that moment, the former priest could see the stranger in full detail; the humanoid's burly body was green, and tusks were visible on its lower set of teeth. Its clothing was primitive-- leather armor and metal shoulder pads. Involuntarily, his fists clenched, which might've been seen as an act of aggression if his face wasn't wearing the expression of a man whom had just realized he forgot to lock the doors back home while on vacation.

Even though his previous experience confirmed that the residents in The Omniverse were rarely what he thought they were, the creatures in front of him looked alarmingly demonlike. Hesitantly, he leaned over to whisper in his friend's ear. "...Maybe you should take the lead here."