Chapter 15 - A Warm Welcome (Patreon)

Within a minute, we'd achieved partial success. We were by no means safe, but at least the guards at the gate had noticed our approach. I still couldn't see anything, flung over Darya's shoulder like a side of meat, but I could hear angry shouts proceeding from both sides now. Darya kept running though, and I was starting to feel pretty bruised from the rough treatment, when suddenly I heard a cry and went flying through the air. I hit the ground back first, and my head slammed into the ground hard enough to daze my vision for a moment.

When my eyes cleared, the picture before me was not a pretty one. Darya was on the ground cradling her lower arm guard, which had an arrow sticking out of it. The group from behind was approaching slower now, but the grins on their faces did not exactly prove well for our reception. The guards approaching from the other side looked more somber, but no more welcoming - and every single accursed kobold was heavily armed. If it came to a fight, I wouldn't give us great odds. 

I hastily fought myself to the knees. "I come as a representative for Grant's Crossing. Please take me to your Chief."

That did not have the effect I was hoping for. Grudging assent along with a bandage for Darya and possibly a heartfelt apology - that'd work. Two groups of kobolds throwing themselves at our feet, begging for mercy would also be acceptable. I was, however, expecting some sort of response. Instead, the two groups just started arguing between themselves in the kobold language with heavy gesturing thrown in. It was hard to tell exactly what was going on, but a good look at both groups gave me a general idea.

The group that had been trailing us looked like hunters or warriors. All of them wore armor, leather and some sort of scale mail mostly. They were also criss-crossed with scars, heavily armed - spears or bows mostly - and furiously angry, one and all. I caught more than one of them fingering a weapon when they were looking at me, like they just couldn't wait to spit us. One kobold seemed to be leading the harangue - a small creature even for kobolds, but deadly-looking with dark blue scales and intricate, light armor. He also wore a long necklace adorned with a large number of colored beads arranged in an intricate system. Above all, however, he wore a sneer, and he wore it well, as he argued with the guards. For arguing a lot and being annoying, my subconsciousness instantly decided to name him Mushu.

The guards on the other hand were clearly outmatched. Not only physically - their equipment looked more ornamental than practical in nature, with matching capes and well-buffed short swords. And while I was starting to root for the guards, who seemed less inclined to do away with us right away, they also appeared to be outmatched in the discussion. The arguing was starting to be pretty one-sided on the part of Mushu. His companions had stopped shouting and started grinning instead, obviously aware that they were getting their way. A few were caressing their weapons.

I was just about to try and crawl closer to Darya and come up with some sort of tactic, when a new voice broke in - in Common this time.

"Getting a little ahead of ourselves, are we, boys?" The voice, originating from behind the guards, belonged to a female kobold. I wasn't 100 per cent certain on the facial expressions of kobolds, but that smile could only be a smirk. She turned towards the town guards. “Honor and Kin, Yileck. I will take it from here. The guards saluted her in return, relief obvious on their faces and she turned back to the small kobold.

"Now, Talen, you of all people should know better. Does Nerit have an accord with Grant's Crossing or no?"

The small warrior did not concede an inch of ground though. "Being daughter to the Chief does not grant you any concessions, Khe'huru."

She bared her teeth. "No, but being the presiding Captain of the Guard does. Now answer my questions."

"Yes, Captain. We have an accord with Grant's Crossing, Captain. These no-good softskins were sneaking around, spying on us, breaking that same accord. Captain. And we thought..."

The female kept staring at him, smiling, while she addressed one of the guards. "Were they sneaking around?"

The guard looked supremely relieved that a higher-up had arrived to take care of the situation. "No ma'am. They were sprinting . The half-orc was carrying the scrawny one."

"Skirting the truth, Talen? Tell you what. I will forget your infractions this time, and make sure that they are properly vetted before they are brought before the Chief."

I was silently cheering the new contender on. Way to show that bloodthirsty midget who was in charge.

He didn't take it lying down though. "Pfah. Sounds like you are forgetting something, oh high and mighty Captain. Dher Thracken selech Anar. Or, in order to pay respect to our new guests," He spat the word with enough vitriol that I was starting to think a half-elf killed his dog. "only Thracken divides the flock. You wouldn't be attempting to deny our priesthood their right to assign the proper class to any newcomers, would you?"

I wasn't too sure what'd just happened, but my new frenemy certainly looked smug like he'd scored a point. The unnamed Captain also grimaced, and the conversation returned to the kobold language. A while later, it seemed that an agreement was reached. Darya's wound was given some attention, and a while later she was free to stumble along with a freshly bandaged arm. We were allowed to talk quietly between ourselves, but there really wasn't much for us to discuss. For the moment we could only move along and hope for the best. Hopefully, we'd soon reach a situation where I had the chance to make a difference. At least I’d gotten a point to Diplomacy – oh, and avoided a respawn back in Grant’s Crossing.

When we entered the gates, the balance of power between the guards and the group of fighters had subtly shifted. The guards were merely tagging along while the fighters were in charge, leading us forward none too gently. I got the distinct feeling that the guards were following only to make sure that we didn't have an "accident" in transit. Our arrival did stir up a lot of attention, however. The fighters and especially the tiny archer grew visibly taller, lavishing in the attention from the people we passed by and chatting with everybody. Again, everything was in the kobold language, but I found it pretty easy to guess what they were going on about. "Oh yes. A couple of spies." "Yes, we caught them ourselves. Terribly ugly, aren't they?" "Sure, the ritual burning will be at 8. Bring moonshine." Eventually, the guard captain had enough, and delivered an angry tirade at the strutting band - and the parade sped up slightly after that.

From the looks of it, calling the place a town would be too generous. A mess was more to the point. It was certainly large enough - probably twice the size of Grant's Crossing or more – but the layout of the place was very confusing to the eye. The few large buildings were placed smack in the middle of the town. Three large blockish buildings stood out, facing each other over a large city square. Surrounding these were smaller grey squarish stone buildings, but the farther you came from the center, the more the layout changed. After a couple of hundred meters, stone buildings were replaced by wooden ones and further out, it was one jumbled confusion of the rare wooden building and a smattering of stone ruins. All told, it had the look of a people trying to rebuild following some cataclysmic event. Also – something was...off about the whole thing.

Darya spotted it first and whispered: "Are those buildings crooked, or is it just me?"

As soon as she said it, I could see it as well. It was especially notable with the large buildings, but the rest of the city was also ever so slightly slanted. 

A pop-up followed.

[You have been offered a quest: The Day the Sky Fell (Chronicler Quest)

The kobold village Nerit shows clear signs of some past event that has done immense damage to the city. Uncover the reasons for the current state of the Splintered Plateau.

Reward: +1 to Chronicler skill

Accept/Decline]

I studiously kept a smile off my face. Whatever else would happen shortly, at least there were mysteries to uncover around here as well. We were led directly to the center of the village, where I had to reassess my initial opinions about the architecture. Even though the three central buildings were blockish and large, they carried their separate characteristics. The one we were approaching was by far the most ornamental of the buildings. The entire frontal face of the building had been carved with impressive precision right into the very stone of the buildings. This produced an almost overwhelming visual effect with the multitude of faces, situations and symbols spread all over the facade. I rapidly took a Snap Shot of the entire front of the building - that might help me tell the scenes apart later on and actually derive something useful from them.

The only thing I could said with absolute certainty was that this had to be a temple. One of the recurring images on the walls was clearly a deity. (the adoration from everybody surrounding him, and the rays of sun emanating from his presence were a dead give-away.) Also, the face of the same godly lizard was featured as a ten times life-sized statue straight above the entrance. I tried my best to shrug off the sensation that we were entering a dragon's lair.

A single staff-carrying, robed kobold was standing guard before the entrance and looking extremely bored – right until we turned up. What followed was a short conversation and a sequence of barked orders that led to a number of the warriors scurrying into the edifice. Meanwhile, we were escorted into what could only be described as a waiting room, where the city guards were not allowed to join us. The room was nothing special – nondescript with blank walls and a set of rough stone benches that were about as comfortable as any public waiting area I'd ever frequented. The only thing to relieve the monotony for a waiting guest would be listening to the rhythmic pulsing sound that traveled into the room from outside. Honestly, I didn't mind. After our foot race, I wouldn't mind a bit of a breather, and maybe a chance to check over Darya's wound.

There was no chance for us to relax or recuperate however, as Talen took it upon himself to prepare us for the coming experience. Lounging on the bench right opposite us, his wide smile would never be mistaken for amiable. "Do you know what you're in for? I'm betting you're just as ignorant as all other fleshy sinners out there. Well, you had better prepare yourself for this one thing: On the Splintered Plateau, Thracken reigns supreme. He will take a good long look at your soul, and he will find you wanting. I'm not sure what I'd prefer - for you to burn as a heretic or be thrown out to rot with the other Fallen. Rest assured, however, that I will enjoy the process."

Darya looked like she was just about to explode at the pesky piece of vermin, and I decided to respond before she decided to pay him back for the arrow. "Talen, right? We've not had the chance to be properly introduced. I'm Arcangelo." 

He tried to say something, but I kept talking right over him. "You know, I'm actually quite interested in learning more about this Thracken fellow. All things considered, he and I should get along just fine."

It seemed like I was getting Talen's attention now. "Don't you dare spout such nonsense. Thracken wouldn't have anything to do with a weakling like you."

I waved away his angry protestations. "On the contrary. If he's the type to put people into boxes and punish them according to whatever they or their forefathers have done, I can only come out ahead. I and my forefathers before me have always been stellar examples of our kind - and of course, he's been kind enough to gift me with this pretty face and lean, tall body." I kept talking, as if musing aloud: "If I'd done something wrong, he would surely have cursed me with a weak, tiny body instead..." I let my glance float over Talen as if suddenly realizing he was there. "Oh. My apologies Talen. My thoughts must've drifted."

He looked for a moment like he was going to attack me. Instead he ground his teeth and snarled: "I've changed my mind. I hope you're tossed to the Fallen. That way I can make your life a living hell for as long as I care."

I dropped the pretend pompous act and glared straight down at him. "Try me, ant. I will break you!" All right, so maybe all his posturing and hostility was getting to me too. Seemed like that was the basic modus operandi for me these days - I just couldn't start someplace new without having to insult people left and right.

We settled back into a silence filled with mutual contempt, and shortly thereafter, we were led into the belly of the temple itself, right in the middle of a ceremony. The pulsing sound came from a giant drum that would look right at home on a slave galley. The chapel - or that's the immediate impression I got anyway - was clearly divided into two. One part was huge and perfectly square with, a tall domed roof. Statues lined the walls at even intervals, all apparently depicting the same deity in different guises or situations. The other part was a half-circle carved into the back wall, placed on a raised dais with windows at even intervals, allowing the sun to bathe the priest in the warm rays of the afternoon sun. Because this was a priest, right in the middle of preaching to his flock, no doubt about it. The crowd filled the square to the brim, responding to every chant, call and shout from the priest. I reconsidered - it might even a shaman. While the entire ceremony had a rehearsed quality to it, there also was a wildness to it - an animalistic sense of abandon that you'd never see during even the most spirited service. 

The noise of the exchange between the priest and his congregation rose to a deafening cacophony, until the priest raised his staff high above his head and slammed it down to the floor twice. The crowd instantly went dead silent. Heavy with gravitas, the voice of the priest rang out into the silence. "We have before us two souls, awaiting judgement." And with that ominous comment, he lowered his staff to point straight at Darya and me. "Approach the altar."

A buzz of murmuring arose in the room, as the crowd turned to stare at us. We walked through the throng to approach the raised dais, and yes, there was a low-slung altar smack in the middle of it. Subconsciously my mind started looking for blood grooves and bloodstains, but I was instantly snapped out of it by the crowd. Everybody was staring. Every single kobold in the room was gawking at Darya and me. Not the good kind of gawking either – more the 'let's sharpen our daggers, boys' kind. A few were openly hissing and spitting insults at us. We made it onto the raised dais, and the priest smiled at us. His accoutrements were beyond impressive: A long green and brown robe gilded with silver in flowing nature, ceremonial serrated dagger and a silver head band to boot. The smile he wore, inadvertently made me think of a shark. He directed us to stand in a specific spot, before turning to the crowd once again.

"Terkheth oth Grant's Crossing per sullen ferdenol," he started, before continuing in Common. "but let us not blame them for that which is out of their control." He turned towards us. "I have been informed that Grant's Crossing are begging for our assistance. And you are the individuals that have been chosen to represent your village?" He looked us up and down, earning a round of snickers from the crowd.

Oh. Oh. This was not a ceremony. Well, maybe it was also a ceremony, but I'd been in this kind of situation enough times in my life, both in school and on stage, that I'd recognize it anywhere. This was a hazing ritual. Or a popularity contest – to me, the two had often been indistinguishable. I put on a self-assured smile while my mind raced to figure out what to say. So Greck had said that they were horrible xenophobes – check – and that they only respected strength. Hmm. I stepped forward, smirking defiantly at the crowd. "I am terribly sorry that you have been misinformed. We are by no means begging for your assistance. Grant's Crossing is thriving, and ready to expand. Our expansion can either take place peacefully, with carefully agreed borders and mutually beneficial agreements between our good peoples," I let the smile drop. "Or we can let it turn into a test of strength."

My comment didn't go over too well - and that's putting it mildly. People started shouting at us, some even brandishing weapons. Darya was staring at me with a questioning look that clearly said: "What the hell?" I tried to radiate assurance even though I was hardly too sure of my approach myself. 

Eventually, the priest managed to calm them down some, ramming his staff down for order. He stared at me before continuing in a more level tone of voice. "Whatever our soft visitor is, it would seem he is not a coward. But that is not enough for Thracken. We do not accept anybody as our equals simply because of words. You need to earn your place." 

"So tell me, newcomers. If you were to prove yourself among us, how would you do it? Would you earn the right to stand side by side with our warriors? Earn you keep as a hunter and go up against the dangerous creatures surrounding the Splintered Plateau. Or would you toil endlessly to provide our race with the weapons we need to go against any who would see us fail?"

Darya took this as her cue and stepped forward. "I will prove myself as a hunter." 

The priest nodded and spread his arms wide. "Before the proud people of Nerit and the all-seeing gaze of Thracken, it has been witnessed. This half-orc hunter will impress the senior huntsman or perish in the process."

I had no time to take that in entirely, as the priest turned to me while I was still reeling. With how prejudiced Greck said they were against mages, I was lucky that he'd thrown in the possibility to choose crafter. "I will prove my worth as a crafter." 

"A longer route, but acceptable. Which type of crafter are you?"

"Tinkerer."

A moment of silence was interrupted by the priest exploding in laughter, and the crowd following his lead. His clawed hand performed a cutting gesture in my direction. "I did not ask how you would be able to entertain the small ones with trinkets and doodads. Weapons. Arrows. Armor. Buildings. Can you construct any of these?"

I considered explaining the potential of some of the traps or bombs I would eventually learn to construct. Not a chance with this crowd though. "No, I cannot."

"In that case, I repeat: How will you earn your worth?" 

This was probably not going to go over well with the crowd. Regardless, I took a deep breath and raised my head. "I will show my value as a bard and spellcaster."

"Please show our visitor how much we value bards." Another round of hoots, derisive laughter and what I assumed were insults ensued. He continued: "Spellcasters, however, can become a valued resource - if their eyes are opened to the truth. Are you willing to open your mind and heart to Thracken and follow his every bidding?"

[You have been offered to become a follower of Thracken, God of kobolds, success and sacrifice.

Warning: Accepting will automatically sever your bond with Serune and may have repercussions.

Accept/decline]

Damn, but it was tempting. The odds were decent I'd be able to actually win them over if it were just a matter of impressing them with my spellcasting skills. Only - rejecting the goddess of grudges in favor of a vicious kobold god sounded to me like the bad idea of the century. I let go a sigh and spoke clearly into the room. "I wish I could. However, I am already a follower of Serune, and no right-thinking person would abandon their deity like a spent rag." 

"Serune." The priest practically spat the name. "This heretic follows the teachings of the Meddler." He slung out his arm at the drummer, who started to pound out a slow, deep rhythm that resonated deep in my chest. The priest directed Darya and me to each our side of the altar, and moved to place himself in front, head reverentially bowed. 

He just stood there for a moment, waiting for some unseen signal, before raising his head and addressing the throng directly. We have been approached today by two strangers, asking us to judge their worth." He flung out a clawed hand at Darya. "At my side stands a hale and healthy female, begging for the honor to serve Nerit as a Hunter. Thracken, you who see through all deception. Help us pierce the veils surrounding her heart and judge her worth. Is she worthy to take a place at your feet and work in your favor?"

The light dimmed for a moment in the entire room - and then Darya was outlined by a warm cone of light. I couldn't tell whether it was sorcery, divine intervention, or merely a mummer's trick. It didn't matter either - what mattered was that the crowd broke out in reserved applause as Darya was accepted. A wiry kobold approached the tall half-orc instantly thereafter and motioned for her to follow. He was an unassuming specimen, except he was so covered in scars it almost appeared to be part of his natural coloring. Darya, for once, appeared insecure. She looked to the altar, and then at me with a questioning look. I nodded, trying to appear resolved, and she let herself be led away.

As for me - I already knew what was coming, but could see no way to avoid it. The priest repeated the ritual with only slight variations, beseeched for Thracken to guide them - and after what felt like forever, I was blinded by a dark red light. I barely had time to think before I was grabbed by several strong sets of hands and dragged to the altar. My mind was strangely unfocused, and I probably wasn't taking it all in right then. My thoughts were incoherent and weirdly disjointed. As I was held fast to the altar and the priest stepped up with a nightmarish grin on his face was, my inner monologue rambled "Don't let it show. You will not let those bastards have the satisfaction of seeing - gods, that's a wicked looking knife. And here I thought he merely wore it for a set item bonus...Crap, this is going to hurt." 

Meanwhile, the priest had positioned himself at my side, preaching to the crowd. Following a lenghty monologue in the kobold language, he switched to common - for my benefit, probably. "Rarely do we get to see the justice of Thracken done as up close as today. His message is simple: 'Work for the common good of kobolds all over Neyrus, and you will revel in the splendor and benefits of my reign. Cross into the realm of heresy, however, and you will reap the consequences.' This is one thing that unbelievers fail to understand. His teachings may be harsh, and from time to time, we all stumble, trying to carry the burden. But this is a clear example of what will happen if we do not follow his teachings." He pointed at me with the knife. "Leeches and layabouts, ready to prove a burden for our society and halt all progress, all because they are unwilling to think of Nerit before they think of their own desires. Festering wounds that spread their poison to the remainder of our society." Again, he turned to the crowd. "And what do we do with an infected wound?" A few daring people shouted their suggestions back at him. He pointed at one of them, beaming with satisfaction. "That's right. We cut away the infection."

The pounding drum abruptly stopped, and silence reigned in the temple. The robed priest raised his dagger in both hands and hissed in ecstasy. 

In my mind's eye, I was already back in Grant's Crossing again. Where to hide? Maybe with Naevys? Or back to the inn? 

Right then, however, a shout echoed through the room. "Stop. The Chief wills it."

The priest froze in his tracks, gyrating slowly to face the intruder. "Which unbeliever dares to keep Thracken waiting for the soul he has been promised?"

Personally, I cared not at all - the only thing that mattered to me was my death being postponed by a bit. I turned my head, and my heart skipped a beat. It was my new best friend, the Guard Captain. 

She strode forward, pushing through the crowd. "The Chief has declared that the lifeblood of this visitor not be spilled."

"You dare to infringe upon our rights? ' To the throne, meat and bone. To the temple, the soul.' It is our prerogative to judge this heretic."

She bowed deeply. "We would never dare to intrude upon your rights. And you are entirely correct. The soul is the domain of Thracken alone."

That seemed to mollify him slightly. "In that case, we will..."

"With all due respect, Liberator, the Chief has deemed that taking his life like this could be construed like an act of war against Grant's Crossing. And as you know," she bowed even deeper in apology, "The Chief has promenance when it comes to martial decisions."

"Pfah. We all know what this is. But all right. Exile him and throw him back to the pig sty from whence he came."

What the hell was this? Had I just been reduced to a piece in the power struggle between two factions, or what? I tried to ignore how the claws of one of the kobolds holding me down was digging into my ankle, and struggled to keep up with the exchange.

"My pardons again. The Chief has decreed that he may remain for as long as he cares to." While the captain remained bowed, her stance conveyed no apology whatsoever.

The Liberator, whatever that meant, harked something unintelligible under his breath."I shall not forget this slight, Captain. Thracken delivers."

She seemed unmoved by the threat. "No slight was intended, Liberator. I am merely following orders."

The priest turned his head to stare down hatefully at me. What? So it was my fault now? He then proceeded to ignore both of us, addressing his congregation. "Chief among the many lessons we can learn from Thracken is the one of overcoming adversity. We know that our path is not the easiest – reaching the pinnacles of our past will be a lengthy and hard journey. But we will persevere. Hard work in itself, however, is not enough. As Thracken learned, to his detriment, even tireless work is not enough if you surround yourself with lesser minds or false faced heretics. And this is why we reward those who dedicate themselves to our goal – and punish those who do not." He pointed haughtily at the Captain. "The venerable Chief has decreed that the life of this unbeliever is not be touched. His reasoning may be sound. This does not mean that we should sully ourselves by dealing with someone such as this."

Abruptly, the priest walked to the very edge of the dais, raising both arms high, and in a loud voice intoned: "Unclean. By the faith vested in me by the people of Nerit, I so call you. Unclean. By the power granted unto me from Thracken himself and his representatives on Neyrus, I so declare you. Unclean." He paused his diatribe, obviously savoring the moment and turned to face me. "I hereby pronounce you Anathema." 

Following that last comment, an overwhelming green glow settled on the priest, traveling over his shoulders to settle in his hands - before it suddenly launched towards me. I reeled back and almost fell, closing my eyes in the anticipation of an impact. Nothing happened though, yet a gasp ran over the crowd, but was quickly stilled. I tried to decipher what just happened, looking around for something - some hint or anything - and that's when it struck me. No-one met my eyes. People were studiously looking away, and even the priest himself, his guards and drummer looked everywhere else but at me. Had I just been...I noticed the blinking notification and, with a sinking sensation, brought up the pop-up.

[You have been labeled Anathema to the kobold race. You have been marked, and followers of Thracken will know that you are casteless, worth less than dirt.

This mark is permanent, and can only be removed by a priest of Thracken.

Reputation with all castes of Nerit set at -5000 (Despised)

Any reputation gain with the castes of Nerit is halved while the mark is present.]

Oh hell no. How could they...I was interrupted in my musings by a prod in the back from one of the guards. The message was clear, and I slowly ambled towards the exit. No-one hindered my passage or even spared me a glance. 

Safely outside in the fresh air, I tried to gather my thoughts. I was sidetracked yet again by a second pop-up that had me laughing bitterly:

[You have been offered to change your respawn point to Nerit. 

Accept/decline]

Exogenics sure weren't pulling their punches. And why was Darya getting the royal treatment while I was kicked to the curb? She didn't even get the quest, so she probably wouldn't be able to negotiate on behalf of Grant's Crossing, even when she impressed them. I shook my head. This brought me nothing. What I needed was to take charge of things and decide how to approach this. Whichever path I'd end choosing, I was certain of one thing: Serune was proving the perfect choice for my deity, because when I was done with Nerit, there'd be a whole range of new grudges growing in this dump. With that positive thought, I pressed 'accept'.

First things first though. Where the hell to start? They'd practically made it all but impossible for me to gain reputation in the city, except at a snail pace. Even finding somebody who'd be willing to give me a quest at my current reputation would be a chore. Except – the wording of that pop-up had been rather weird. 'Reputation with all castes...' A tiny spark lit up as a response in the back of my mind. What was it Greck had mentioned? Something about all castes having their place or it was back to the mud with you. Hah. That cryptic old fart - he couldn't just go ahead and say it right out, but at least I knew where to start.