The cart trundles along, or at least I assume it does. Laying on the floor of the cart, I can't see much save for bags filled with various trade goods, plus two of my rescuers who eye me with curiosity and concern.
By listening to their conversations, I surmise that the three dwarves that came over to me were Angus (the Elder), Finnegan (the caravan master), and Brinnegan (Finnegan's son).
Still unable to move much or speak though, I can't quite talk with Angus and Finnegan, who sit in the cart with me. I feel grateful towards these two, and begin to ponder how I might repay their kindness, despite the great pain wracking my body and disrupting my concentration.
After some strained thinking, as well as drifting in and out of consciousness for what I can only guess to have been a few hours, the cart suddenly stops.
"Halt! By decree of his highness King Braddock, all passerby must subject themselves to a search, and to the seizure of any contraband!"
In response to the gruff voice, I hear Brinnegan stand and protest.
"Ye've no authority to search us! This is the Western Vale, Braddock holds no power here!"
Answering this however, I hear the gruff voice snort, and a few other voices begin to chuckle alongside it.
"The Western Vale will soon fall, and return to the rightful rule of King Braddock. You would be wise to acknowledge that sooner rather than later, dwarf!"
My eyes widen at hearing this, but considering their appearance, and all of the fantasy games I've played, it does make sense.
'Short, stocky, and bearded… yeah. Dwarves, huh? I wonder if there are elves too? Or halflings? Or tieflings, tabaxi, tritons, and all the other fantasy races?'
I get giddy as my thoughts continue to wander, unsure of just who or what might inhabit this new world. A slight smile creeps onto my face, and I feel my tail begin to swish against the wooden planks of the wagon floor.
Wrapped in my wonder, I fail to notice the conversation continuing, until I hear and feel a boot thump onto the wagon. Jarred from my thoughts, my eyes dart open.
"What are you cave-dwellers doing with a battered beastfolk? Bringing her to the slave markets perhaps?"
The man before me is tall, and dressed in some kind of scaled leather armor. He leers down at me amusedly, waiting for a response from the caravan, and Angus speaks up.
"You know full well what we think of yer slave markets, ya godless long-leg! She's jus' an injured traveler we came across, and decided to help her out of the kindness in our hearts! Not that your kind would even know what the word means…"
My ears twitch slightly, as I hear the animosity growing between two parties, and begin to fear a conflict among them. Luckily, Finnegan steps in.
"Now now, no need for hostilities! I'm sure Angus didn't mean what he said jus' now. Captain ser, we'd simply like to pass through 'ere, an' get the lassie the help she needs, aye? I'm sure we could work somethin' out… dont'cha think eh?"
With this last pause, I hear a muffled clinking coming from Finnegan. The human's eyes narrow, and he grins coldly.
"His majesty is an impatient man, don't you know? His temper runs quite short these days, for he has not the time for trivial things."
At this, I hear more clinking, and watch as Finnegan hands the man several pouches. The man opens each of them, inspecting their contents, before passing them to someone out of my view. Following the last pouch, the man sneers, before turning and jumping off the wagon.
"Open the gate! Their goods are clear of anything illicit."
The creaking of wood fills my ears, and I feel the cart lurch forwards, moving once again.
"Pleasure doing business you fine lads!"
Finnegan shouts and waves at the guards as we pass through the gate. As soon as we've gone far enough from it however, he sits down with a scowl, and spits over the side of the cart. Angus does the same.
"Hellspawn humies, thinking they're destined to rule the world… when in Gorn's nose did they invade?"
The two look at each other and shake their heads, before looking down at me with apprehension. I weakly meet their eyes, slowly moving my hand to tap on Angus' boot. Their eyes move to my hand, and Angus smiles sadly beneath his beard.
"Could never let you get bound in chains, lass. It's a blot on this world, truly, and a damned shame so many of your folk get forced into it."
'So slavery is common in this world? Eugh… not to mention that it's normal for humans to engage in it with beastfolk, apparently.'
Anger and disgust fill my face, questioning how anyone can find it acceptable to own another person. Seeing this, Angus reaches down and ruffles my hair a bit, making my expression turn to an embarrassed blush.
Finnegan lets out a deep sigh, causing Angus and I to both look up at him curiously.
"Braddock invading means reaching Hyperion will be harder than I thought. I'm not sure if we can even find 'em at this point…"
The two dwarves begin to stroke their beards, deep in thought. However, Brinnegan speaks up from the front of the cart.
"Why dun we jus' drop her off at Hyperion's apprentice's place then, eh pa? If she's still moving, it cannae be that bad, so Sjendal'll be fine, right?"
Finnegan looks at his son apprehensively, before considering the plan.
"Hmmm… I trust that gnome 'bout as far as I can throw her, tho' I s'pose it's our only option if we wan' ta make this shipment on time."
Angus grumbles, unconvinced, but Finnegan claps his hands decisively.
"Right, that'll be what we do then! Not too far to Sjendal's hut either… far as I remember, at least."
'A gnome? Interesting… not many games had those. I wonder what they're like in this world?'
[Elaboration: Gnomes are small humanoid creatures, closely related to fey.]
'Oh… thanks, mysterious voice in my head.'
[…]
'Not like I was expecting much of an answer to that, I guess…'
Though I can move my arms a bit, I still can't quite move my body. I haven't tried to speak since my injuries, but judging by my breath still being quick and shallow, and the pain throbbing in my abdomen, I decide not to try it quite yet.
'Haaah… I wish I could stretch right now…'
Alas, all I can do — at least for now, until I recuperate and heal a bit — is continue what I've been doing for the past few hours. So, I decide to rest my eyes, hoping that I might soon regain the ability to move or speak. The sun begins to flicker through the trees, as the forest grows less dense, warming my face as I fade off.
[Loading: Host Data.]
Name: N/A
Race: Beastfolk (Feline)
Level: 1
Exp: 0/500
HP: 3/50
MP: 100/100
SP: 0/50
Passive Skills:
- Feline Agility: Movement speed +25%, Jump height +50%, +25 to base SP.
- Cat's Grace: Fall damage -50%, Climbing speed +25%, Superior charisma.
- Beastfolk Senses: Superior Auditory Sense, Improved Olfactory Sense, Superior Darkvision.
- #^@`£&'s Blessing: N/A, N/A, Improved luck, +25 to base HP, +50 to base MP.
Active Skills:
- Cat's Claws: Melee, 10 damage per hit (5 MP/s).
- N/A (Level 15 Required)
- N/A (Level 40 Required)
…
'Huh? This again?'
I quickly skim over the information, trying to see if anything changed from last time. The pain of my fall continues to thwart my concentration, however, and I quickly give up.
'Way too much information to process right now… guh…'
With that, the menu fades, and sleep takes me, as the cart trundles along.