Chapter 19 – Meet The Neighbors (Patreon)

Muriel was kind enough to elaborate while he walked. "Look, he's not really a lunatic. He's not even a bad guy, and you should be on your best behavior with him. It's just." He sighed. "Seems like with you I need to always explain something before I can start the actual explanation. The outskirts that we Fallen blunder around in surround almost the entire city. We're free to leave the place and never come back, but the 'finer' places? Those are off-limits. Sure, we're supposed to 'not exist' or some such bull. You try to meander around the temple for an hour and see if they ignore you or show you the blunt end of the spear. There's one exception though - those seeking penance. Yes, I know, you don't get it yet. The thing is though: You get a shot at redeeming yourself, showing Thracken that you've changed your sinning ways and embrace the only true way of life. And if you do embark on that course, they'll give you a token to prove that you're not just one of the regular losers - you're trying to become one of them again."

I plodded my way through that mouthful of an explanation, rechecked and finally came up with: "So you're calling him crazy because he's actually a pretty decent person?"

"I knew you wouldn't get it. No, see, Oath had it all. He had the respect of the hunters, was adored by the Liberator, and the Chief had personally commended him on bravery. And the daft sod went and turned his back on everything. Why? Because he wanted to 'save those who could still be redeemed' or some such nonsense. Pfah."

"So, he's a bit sanctimonious. I can see how that would tick you off."

"No, see, that's the worst part. He's extremely pious about the whole thing."

I kept my face carefully composed and tried not to laugh. "Sounds infuriating. So, we're off to get a token for me from Oath? Is that his real name?"

He shook his head. "Olrek. Oath is short for 'The Oathkeeper', which was Olrek's old nickname as a warrior. Tenacious fellow. Oh, and he also makes you swear an oath if you're going for redemption, so you can see why it's stuck."

"Makes sense. Any advice before we talk to him?"

"Nah. Just don't lie to him, you'll be fine."

I knew right away as we were approaching Oath's dwelling, because - well, it was the only fully functional house I'd seen in the outskirts. It was nothing special - just a tiny, square stone house with one wall visibly cracked, but still. The surrounding dirt had been recently sweeped and some spots showed visible repairs. My eyes moved to Muriel who motioned me forward, and I knocked.

A cracking voice instantly came from within. "Come in."

I opened the door and entered, blinking to adjust to the sudden darkness on the inside.

"It will be easier to see soon. My old eyes prefer the dark. I am glad you decided to come."

My eyes swept the room, coming to rest on the sole occupant and staying there. Now, on the rare occasion that I have some cash to spare, I can be a bit of a betting man. I was willing to bet anything, that Oath had been a thoroughly intimidating specimen back in his youth. The ancient lizard sat crosslegged on the floor, reading a book in the sparse light from the window. He was hunched over with age, and his scales were dull, whichever color they'd sported dulled into grey. Still, while his arms and legs were thin, they still showed hints of ropy cords of muscle. And were he to stand up straight, I'd wager he'd stand a head taller than most other kobolds. I opted for a respectful tone, and decided to try out my new phrases, greeting him in the Kobold language.

He clapped in almost childish delight, responding with what sounded like "It is a something something pleasure." and continued with a torrent of words that were almost unintelligible with the odd word in Common mixed in.

I smiled and switched back to Common. "Apologies. I've only learned a little so far. You were expecting me?"

He let out a rasping laugh. "Yes. A few kind souls go out of their way to keep me informed when something out of the ordinary happens. A half-elf and half-orc entering Nerit would be enough in itself. But when the half-elf manages to get himself named Anathema the very same day and admits to being a follower of Serune? I have had four accounts of the ritual so far."

Muriel's voice echoed through the open door. "Serune? You didn't say anything about that."

The old lizard squinted. "Is that you, Muriel? Come in. You can do your eavesdropping from where I can see you."

Muriel entered reluctantly, and Oath continued addressing him. "It is too much to hope that you are here seeking to enter the arms of Thracken, my young friend, is it not? Ah, well, all shall fall, as He tends to say." With a chuckle, he turned back towards me. "Young Muriel fails to realize that in the remainder of the world, Serune is just one among a myriad of Gods and Goddesses and she is revered and respected. Among the kobolds, however, she is best known as The Deceiver."

"Oh."

"Oh, indeed. Now, I will assume that you were ignorant of this-"

Muriel butted in. "Ignorant's the right word, for sure."

Olrek ignored him. "-and as such, yours is a harsh sentence. Especially for someone, who in other parts of the world might be respected and welcomed as a musician and spellcaster."

That confused me. "I thought you agreed with Thracken's rules?"

"I do. I would love to debate the point with you, but you younglings rarely have time for a good verbal match."

"I would like to take you up on your offer at some point. Honestly, however, I'd prefer to get to work, so I can show Nerit that I'm not really a bad guy."

"And there we have one major difference between Thracken and the remaining throng of gods. Thracken, and by extention, Nerit, care not a whit whether you are a good or a bad guy – we care about results. For centuries, we have labored like this, to the betterment of kobolds everywhere. Therefore, we do not just assume that bards, necromancers or tinkerers do no good for our society. It is known to us. However," He raised a thin, admonishing claw, "we are not too proud to learn. Should you prove us wrong, we will take it into consideration. What is your name?"

"Arcangelo."

"Do you, Arcangelo, seek to redeem yourself in the eyes of Thracken and gain your rightful place in the society of Nerit?"

I didn't really feel like I'd done much wrong in the first place, but..."Yes, I do."

"Thracken will grant you this reach at atonement. "To which caste do you aspire? Worker, Crafter, Hunter or Warrior?"

That...was a pretty good question, actually. Worker and hunter were not an option, but...I might have a better chance as a crafter than a warrior. Except...I was still extremely low-level as a Tinkerer, and my low intelligence stat made me fail a large portion of my creations. This 'atonement' didn't exactly sound like an on-the-job training opportunity to me. Of course, there was one other detail that could make or break my plans. "Erm - Olrek. Can I ask one question before I decide?"

He huffed. "Young people. No respect for ceremony at all. If your question concerns the tests, I cannot reveal anything. Otherwise?" He motioned for me to go ahead.

Damn. How about: "I don't want any specific info, but can you tell me in general terms how the crafter and warrior castes are tested?"

Olrek's face closed and he looked like he was about to turn me down, when Muriel piped in: "Come on, Oath. This is common news. If our lyrical companion here had spent his life in the city he'd know all about it already."

He relented. "I suppose you are right. Regardless whether you try your luck with one or the other, one of your tests will be to convince the resident trainer that they should give you a chance. As a crafter, you will also be subjected to a series of tests of increasing difficulty. As a warrior, you will instead receive two exceedingly difficult, tests to complete. Should you manage to excel at either of these, you will be pitted against the other Penitents in the annual Honor Games. As a crafter, to judge the value of your crafting on the open stage. Or," he poked a claw at my chest, "to test your fighting skills in the sands against people who have been trained to fight from birth."

That made the decision for me. Sure, the Tinkerer class was a versatile one. Sure, I could probably find some creation that'd find favor within the strict rules set out by their system. But after the treatment I'd received so far, I wanted more. I wanted, no needed, to stand triumphant in their tiny sand pit and show them all that they were wrong. And that they needed to fire their Liberator. From a cannon. Into a volcano. A brief shake of the head cleared my mind, and I extolled: "I will join the Warrior caste."

Olrek nodded, all business. His fingers started moving in a complex pattern before him, conjuring forth a caleidoscopic effect while he spoke. "So be it. Repeat after me.: I, Arcangelo."

I droned: "I, Arcangelo."

"Hereby swear to commit myself fully in order to earn the acceptance of the Warrior caste of Nerit." The image he conjured slowly joined into something I recognized – the symbol of Anathema. A handful of broken chains with kobold symbols interspersed.

"Hereby swear to commit myself fully in order to earn the acceptance of the Warrior caste of Nerit." I continued silently in my thoughts ‘Also, gracelessly let everybody know that they need to get with the times and re-evaluate their stupid system.’

"I swear to comply with any rules and requirements imposed upon me by my betters." Slowly, the image evolved, repairing the chains.

"I swear to comply with any rules and requirements imposed upon me by my betters." ‘And if I do cheat, I'll do my best not to get caught.’

"So strike me down Thracken." A thunderbolt appeared, adding menace to the image.

"So strike me down Thracken." Wait, what? I had no further time to speculate, as the image suddenly rushed towards my head, the onslaught of colors obscuring my vision before dissipating.

With a sinking feeling to my stomach, I dismissed the first pop-up - something strange about languages - and rushed through the second one:

[You have accepted a quest: The Path of Daggers - Part I

You have embarked on an honorable mission to reclaim your rightful place among the Warrior caste of Nerit. Furthermore, you have sworn to uphold any official rules and requirements set before you during the contest. Your first task is to present yourself before Instructor Tarkos, who will present the requirements for entering the Honor Games.

Penalty for failure: Player retains Anathema status until the next Honor Games.

Penalty for breaking your word: Unknown

Reward: 300 experience points

New quest: The Path of Daggers - Part II]

Olrek apparently misunderstood the look on my face, because he gave me a kind look and said "I know, it is a mouthful. And knowing that Thracken will be watching is equal parts relief and intimidation, is it not?"

I didn't trust myself to keep a calm demeanor - merely nodded, thanked Oath for his assistance and left. Muriel tagged along without saying anything, which suited me just fine. How the hell did these things keep happening to me? I'd not only let myself be roped into playing their game, but I also somehow accepted doing it 'the honorable way' on pain of....well, pain, most likely. Forget all about blackmail, lies, slander and pretty much all the best weapons in my arsenal. Unless...I rounded on Muriel. "Muriel, this is really, really important: This oath. Does it govern the intent of the person who swears it or just the word?"

Muriel looked uncomprehending for a moment, before it dawned on him what I was saying - and then it was my turn to stare, as the stocky lizard collapsed in howling laughter. After a while, he had to use a nearby wall to support him, as his laughter slowly dissolved into a coughing fit. A long minute passed before I relented, sacrificing one of my remaining few bottles of water. He downed most of the battle and shortly recovered. His wheezing voice croaked: "Arcangelo. Forget what I said yesterday. You might not be family, but you and I are going to get along just fine."

"What-?"

"Seriously. You've just entered into an oath, governed by Thracken himself, and your first thought is 'How can I weasel my way out of this?' Most people would never stoop so low as to ask a question like that."

"In my defense-"

"Most people," he added with a huge grin, "are also morons. To answer your question: Feel free to get creative. As long as you're not going against an order or rule or, say, lying about something integral concerning your quest, there will be no repercussions." He sobered up. "I would advice you not to test this one too much though - the penalties are...ugly."

Whew. That was a hell of a lot easier to process. Hell, working in a bank for me had practically been one long exercise in looking for the red tape that allowed me to do what I wanted. Oh, and looking for ways to perform my job in the easiest manner possible. So maybe I hadn't been a model employee, but in my defense, I'd been really, really bored. Wait. What had that first pop-up been again?

[Quest updated: When in Nerit.

You have gained a basic understanding of the spoken Kobold Language. Certain simple words are now comprehensible to you.]

Wait - how did that...? I jogged up to Muriel, who'd started walking again and tagged his shoulder. "Quick, say something in Kobold. Something simple."

"What? Why?"

"Just - indulge me. Please?"

He scratched the scales under his armor, but eventually said what sounded something like: "You're a mhote chadé, Arcangelo. What tchar?"

I did a little victory dance, which did nothing to diminish his head shaking. Exogenics were bloody geniouses. Geni? Whatever. They were brilliant. It was actually as old school as it got - having a language option that, once you unlocked it, unlocked different words. Games since times immemorial had gone with that approach - and it hit a sweet middle point between realism and having to actually learn an entire frigging language from scratch. Sure, I'd have to put in some hours to learn the language, and it was sure to become more difficult for the higher levels - but then I wouldn't have to struggle remembering the words every time afterwards. Only - how would it work for my own speech? A moment of mumbling under my breath like a madman provided the answer: As long as I focused on saying the words "in Kobold", the actual words that appeared would be in the Kobold language.

I simply tagged along for a bit, whistling under my breath in satisfaction at the recent developments. At last, things were looking up a bit. A glance at my mini-map told me that we were aiming, in a roundabout, manner, back towards the basement and I caught up to Muriel. "Hey. What's the plan?"

"Enough babycare for me. Arack and I are meeting up to get some food on the table, in case a certain someone fails to deliver. You're going back to the lair for whatever you feel like doing. Maybe Darek will submit you to an afternoon of exquisite torture and humilitation. Or, as Darek calls them: Lectures."

"Oh. Well, that sounds great. He's already been a huge help, and I'm just beginning to see how much he can help me."

"To each his own, I guess. If I return to find two withered corpses, I know it's cause you bored each other to death."

We took the really long route. Cutbacks, a two-minute wait to see if we were being followed, and a couple of shortcuts that were way too acrobatic for my liking. Muriel said it was a necessity, or somebody would end up discovering their home. I could only agree. The detour did have one serendipitous result in that a familiar presence made itself known in my mind. Shortly thereafter, I was scratching Atlas's neck, telling him what a good boy he was. There was probably something wrong with treating a venom spitting killer lizard like a golden retriever, but Atlas sure didn't seem to mind. "C'mere you. Heh - there's no doubting you found her. She's even applied ointment to your scales - they look a lot better already. Annoying, how that woman keeps being right. Right? Now, let's see if she actually responded - oh, there we go." I waved the note in front of Muriel's face. "Look, my plan came through. We're meeting up with my friend tonight."

"You mean you are. I'm not losing my sleep over whatever you're planning. But I'll be happy to admit I was wrong afterwards, if you actually pull through. Now, hide that monster away and let's get going."

I parted ways with Muriel and Atlas right outside the basement. Muriel was off to "Practice a trick I've been saving for rainy days." and Atlas didn't care for the stuffy basement. I gave him free reins for the night, and asked him to show up in the morning.

Before leaving, Muriel showed me the trick to getting in without tricking the latch - a hidden rope went into the pile of rubble to raise the latch on the other side. Useful for if you were in a hurry. The place seemed empty when I descended, but as I walked past the living room, I could hear slight sounds from further within. Walking to the door to the training room, I spotted Darek in motion. One might be tempted to titter at the thought of a peg-legged kobold - but anybody watching Darek in action would rapidly change their stance. His scales were dark with perspiration as he went through a complicated series of motions, moving from one set position to another, spear blurring from the speed. The only sound in the room was the occasional slap, as the spear hit into position, only to spin onwards a second later. His control and speed made me marvel at how intimidating an enemy he must've been before he lost a leg - and what had managed to best him. His eyes flittered across me, and that was the only acknowledgement I received that he'd seen me. Still, I wasn't going to interrupt, and sat down to observe instead.

I zoned out a bit though, and suddenly realized that the intermittent sounds had stopped. My head jerked up to find Darek looking down at me, calculating.

"You have had a chance to observe. What is the verdict then?"

"Verdict? On your skills?"

"Yes. How would you assess my capabilities in combat?"

I hesitated. "Erm. You're very skilled with the spear. Obviously."

"And?"

"And your physique is impressive. But," I took a deep breath and glanced at him, but his expression gave away nothing. "your old injury severely limits your movement and speed. I'm not an expert, but I'd say you'll have a difficult time with attacks to your left side."

A frown slowly built on his face. "Do you believe that you could get the best of me in combat?" he challenged.

"In here? No. It's too cramped, and your reach is too good."

"Outside then. How would you attack me?"

I shrugged. "I wouldn't. Not initially. I'd run away, and then I'd attack with spells at a distance."

His frown grew. "That is not a very honorable notion."

"Oh, I agree. But with my abilities in close combat, honor is a luxury I cannot afford. Or, mangling the words of a pragmatic person many people have called a coward: If I run away, I get to live to run away another day."

He paused at that, considering. "Any warrior would disparage you for that . Fortunately for you, I am a hunter. We understand that the best way to achieve your goal can sometimes be through retreat or indirect means. As for you," he cleared his throat, "you may not be adept at close combat, but you keep your eyes open and know part of what to look for. This in itself is half the battle. The other half is actually knowing how to fight." He scratched one of the melted patches of scales on his arm. "You are a piece of work, Arcangelo. You gladly expose your ignorance and faults for the world to see and somehow do not expect to be judged for it - how is that?"

I was silent for a couple of heartbeats until I realized that wasn't a rhetorical question. "Because - well, if you don't admit to your ignorance and flaws, you won't be able to ask others to help you improve on them? - I mean, I've already improved my language skills because of you, and if I were to have learned about Nerit all by myself instead of having Muriel to teach me, it'd take years? I think I understand what you mean though - because in some areas I truly am ignorant enough that I probably seem worse than a child to you. You have my word that I do my utmost to learn quickly though - I intend for my ignorance to be a temporary phase."

That appeared to mollify him. "In that case, let us march downstairs to the classroom and try to shorten the length of this phase."

The next hours saw a swarm of knowledge floating around the chamber, guided by the insistent voice of Darek. in an attempt to make their way into my thick skull. The topics were varied, mostly because I had no clue what would be useful and what wouldn't. Darek tried to keep us on the straight and narrow, however, focused on one topic at the time. "You'll find plenty of time to agonize over the dangerous animals surrounding the city. It will be of no use to you, however, if you do not learn enough to leave Nerit in one piece first." The primary topic of his choice was language - likely a good choice. I had a hard time keeping from asking questions about anything that entered my mind though - I'd finally found a willing and able teacher, and there were so many things I wanted to learn. At one point, however, he relented, seeing how my mind kept straying. "All right. I will grant you one question. Consider it well. You need to learn our language, or you will never understand us. I will allow for this brief deviation though."

I gave it some consideration. Should I ask about the trio and their past? Or the kobold wars? Maybe - no. My earlier talks with Muriel had left me with one thing I needed to know. "Would you explain the history behind the creation of Nerit as it is?"

"That - is an acceptable question. Are you familiar with the War of the Way?"

I just shook my head.

"You will receive the abbreviated version today. About 150 years ago, Dwarves and Kobolds were at war, all over Neyrus. This was not a conflict over simple interests, as much as it was a disagreement on which way the future of the world should be arranged. The Dwarves waged war to subjugate the lesser races and install themselves as the ruling class among the 'lesser' races and Helmuth, God of dwarves, as head of a pantheon unified firmly below him. We fought to make everybody else see the light of Thracken and his ways. Most races will tell you otherwise, but know this: We only ever defended ourselves. When we refused to succumb to the rule of the Dwarves and Helmuth, they marshaled their forces and struck first. The dwarves overestimated their own strength, however, and before they knew it, we were striking back all over Neyrus. Our floating fortresses gave us an advantage the other races struggled to compete with."

I interrupted. "Wait. Floating fortresses. Was this before the Breaking?"

"One question, I said." He sighed. "Yes, this was before the Breaking. And no, it had nothing to do with the Breaking itself, which happened at least forty years later the conclusion of the war – despite whatever speculations different historians have come up with."

I found that one particularly hard to believe. Kobolds just so happened to invent floating platforms, castles and whatnot and a bunch of years later, the continent tore itself apart, floating away? Attempting to keep my mistrust from showing on my face, I apologized for interrupting.

"The historians will agree on one thing, however: The tide of war was turning in our favor, and we were advancing on all fronts. Nerit, as you can easily spot, was no kind of fortress. Indeed, we were a support city, providing whichever assistance was required of us. We'd gather, hunt, craft and distribute - and even served as a field hospital once when a troop was ambushed. Our final mission was not supposed to be anything special in the larger scale of things - merely a chance to regroup and hunt in peace in order to bolster our forces with fresh supplies. We'd crossed the Dawnlight Forest two years earlier and found the plateau. The first time around, it proved to be a great place for hunting and gathering raw materials - leather, wood, plants of various properties - so logically, we anchored up here again. The chains and anchoring blocks are still there, should you choose to search for it.

"We still do not know what caused it. If somebody does know, they are keeping it to themselves. Everything was quiet in the early morning, when suddenly the magic stopped. The invisible strings were cut, and our home crashed gracelessly to the ground. Fortunately, ours was not a fortress, anchored safely a hundred meters into the air. We were a mere couple of meters from the ground, yet still the damage was extensive. You have seen the buildings, but it is difficult to imagine what it was like. I have read firsthand accounts of that day and 'chaos' probably defines it best. Everywhere you looked, you would see damage or injured people, others looking for help, answers or commands." His voice grew bitter. "And those we looked to for guidance and leadership failed us on that day. The priests are the closest thing to a government we have ever had, but on that day, they turned their backs on us. The gate to the Temple slammed closed even as the cracks widened in their walls, and we heard nothing from them until the day after, where they emerged, acting like nothing had happened. This was eighty years ago now, but the rift between the Liberators and the populace has still not healed entirely." He spread his hands. "But there you have it. The support city became a city bereft of support and then a colony in involuntary exile. And who are we today? Ask somebody else - there are no clear answers among the Fallen."

Darek called a break after this. We had obviously touched upon something that still ran deep under the surface in Nerit, and I knew when not to pry. I moved back into the common room, and...well, reacted like I do. The violin was heavy in my hands, and no tones flew straight from the heart, but sometimes that is the case. I rarely indulge in sad music - if I have the choice, I almost always opt for something happier. Sometimes, however, the best way to chase away the sadness is to submerge yourself into it. And with that, the heartbreaking, soft notes of one of Mozarts violin concertos filled the room in all its sweet sorrow. I closed my eyes, and went with it, sharing the sadness of a people lost, cut off from everything they held dear. As I lowered the violin and opened my eyes, I could see Darek's form in the back of the room, and I swear I saw a clawed hand wiping at an eye.

I ignored him and busied myself polishing the poor, battered violin with a spare scrap of cloth. I also checked out the blinking notification:

[You have completed the quest: The Day the Sky Fell (Chronicler quest)

You have uncovered the reasons for the current state of the Splintered Plateau. The entire city was a floating platform that crashed to the ground, inflicting massive damage in the process.

Reward: 

+1 to Chronicler skill.]

Blessedly, after our break, the mood in the basement had improved. We returned to the earlier language session, and Darek slowly moved on to introduce me to their written language. Now, I've learned English and German in real life, but I've never really enjoyed a language lesson. For me, the only real and tangible enjoyment concerning languages is when you actually get out there and use what you've learned with people. This lesson, however, rocked and I applied my full concentration. Not only was Darek an excellent teacher once he warmed up, learning an entirely new language which I was entirely confident did not exist in real life, had the additional bonus of making me feel like an explorer, learning about exotic civilizations during my travels.For all intents and purposes, it was pretty close to the mark as well. As for the Kobold written language...well, I'm no linguist. If I were to compare it to something, it'd be some eastern European language. Stylistically, the letters looked Cyrillic - as in, they looked almost normal, but didn't exactly behave like I thought they should. As for the rules of the language....hell if I knew. I wasn't even close to a basic understanding of it, and for now, it was simply memorization time. At least they used plain words and not some sort of complicated pictograms or weird cultural stuff where they'd invent one language for the upper castes and another, slightly tackier, language for the rest. And yes, I asked.

Still, I lost myself in the studies, and when Darek told me we were done for the day, I was surprised to see that the hours had flown by. Not only that, but the 'hungry' debuff had also found its way back. We walked back towards the common room, when suddenly I was met with a horrendous stench. The moment it struck me, my nostrils tried to shut down, and failed horribly. 

Walking through the door, Muriel grinned in greeting "Steager cabbage soup. The taste isn't half bad, but you'll want to tear your nose off before we're done."

I coughed and regretted it instantly. "Gods, that's ghastly. I might have to take my chances with Talen and his crew."

Arack entered from the training room with a smile and joined in the banter. For a while, things were completely carefree, and even the ghastly smell couldn't ruin the mood. I ate my last ration of bread, and we chatted amiably for a while. At some point, however, the mood was ruined, and I found myself in a violent coughing fit, trying to talk through a mouthful of crumbs. "What the pits do you mean, 'nothing'?"

Darek answered calmly. "The life of an Anathema is not meant to be one of enjoyment. Rather, we should focus on where we have failed and how to properly return to the right path."

"I can't believe you're saying that with a straight face. Muriel said something like that earlier, but I thought it was just in public. But you really have nothing to cheer you up? First they take away everything you have and stick you in the ruins – and then they forbid you any sort of fun on top of that? No music. No theatre. Not even a gods-cursed mime. That's not right, Darek."

Muriel nodded. "Darek and I don't see eye to eye on this. It's not like there are any official rules that tell us that we're not allowed to enjoy ourselves, but, y'know." He shrugged. "You try and arrange some entertainment for everybody, some zealot is bound to pay you a visit and make sure you reconsider. Of course, we do have ways around this and plenty of types of entertainment." 

Mouth agape, it took me three attempts to form a coherent reply. "Plenty of entertainment? Are we talking about what I witnessed today? All the catering to the high and mighty who decide to come slumming with the outcasts? Of course, should you choose to entertain your fellow Fallen instead, judgement will soon follow, right?"

For the first time, Muriel looked annoyed. "What do you want us to do? It's easy to criticize our world. If you're looking to impress me, do something about it instead."

"Sorry. It's - I know I'm new here and all. I probably should just keep my trap shut. It's just infuriating to see."

I munched on my lump of bread for a while, half-heartedly listening to Muriel laying out the different clandestine types of entertainment for Anathema. They actually had a lot of stuff going down, but they had to keep it hidden, and with no real sense of community, it was every kobold out for himself. Suddenly, I found myself musing out loud. "Well, why shouldn't I do something about it?"

Arack had been in the middle of a low discussion with Darek, but raised her head. "Do something about what?"

"This. In all likelihood I'll never get around to understanding why they'd banish you from society in the first place. But then keeping you down and punishing you on top of the actual rules? That's simply not fair. So help me here. Right now, I'm... sort of on probation as a fully-fledged member of the community, right?"

Arack cocked her head. "More like you're standing in the queue, waiting to ask to join the competition to become a member. And your competition has been training their entire life. And the judges don't particularly like your type."

I snorted. "Thank you for those supportive words, Arack. But yeah, what I'm aiming for is, I'm still in the running, right?"

"Sure."

"And the usual unofficial rules that allow the castes to bully Anathema that step out of line – would they apply to me?"

Muriel stepped in. "Definitely not. Oath, and by extension, the Church, take their redemption very seriously, and as soon as you apply, you're officially trying to become a better person. We had a hunter who had it in for a Fallen – they had a rivalry from earlier, I think – and the hunter roughed him up some after he'd been accepted for the hunter tests. The day after, we had a new Fallen applying for the hunter test." He chuckled wickedly. "Good times."

"You know, that's just what I needed to hear. Thank you." I brushed a smattering of crumbs off of my pants and stood up.

As I walked towards the stairs, the clattering of a chair and rush of cloth followed me - and I was rapidly followed by both Muriel and Arack.

"What are you planning Arcangelo? Can we join you? Should we take some weapons along?" Arack practically skipped up the stairs. 

Muriel slapped her on top of the head. "Stop that. You think Darek would approve of that kind of talk?" His tail inched forward to prod me in the side. 

"What are you planning though?"

I shrugged, listening attently at the door, before silently swinging it open. We moved outside in silence, taking care to check on all sides before moving out into the outskirts. "Honestly? I'm not quite sure yet. The only thing I'm confident about is that I want to do something."

Muriel nodded. "That was lovely and vague. Heh. With your behavior until now, however, I must say though: I'm not going to miss watching."

"Yay!" Arack's tail whipped excitedly back and forth.

"From a distance."

"Aw."

With the roundabout route we were taking, I had some time to think about my plan so I didn't just rush in and commit some huge social faux pas. What was I aiming to do anyway? Commit social upheaval and have them overthrow their leaders? Yeah, right. Not only did I not relish their chances, I'd also be a patently bad choice for a figure head. That, and it wasn't my fight to begin with. I just felt so bad for them – they were dealt a horrible hand to begin with, and then most simple pleasures were kept from them on top of that? Not cool. So – maybe that's where I should start? Bring some simple joy into their lives in what limited ways I'd be able to. 

Of course, all the while, in the back of my head, a tiny voice was taunting me. "You are aware they're not real, right? They're gigabytes in a server somewhere, that's all." I brushed away the sentiment. For all intents and purposes, this was my life now, and I was going to treat it as such. Well, at least as long as there wasn't any overhanging risk of me being found by a certain eastern European individual. 

We arrived to the Plaza with Muriel and Arack loitering in the background so they wouldn't be seen to arrive with me. I briefly considered announcing my presence, but decided against it – and just started playing instead. I went for happy. Happy, powdered with silly and with a side order of ludicrous. Oh, and loud. For the first time till now, I really tested the new range I'd received when I hit apprentice in Musician, and hot friggin damn did it make for a difference. After a bit, even the people on the other side of the plaza glanced over to see what the commotion was. The first couple of minutes were pretty simple though as most kobolds went on with their daily tasks while I introduced them to the silly antics of "Old Dan Tucker".

"Well, Old Dan Tucker, was a fine old man

Washed his face in a frying pan

Combed his hair with a wagon wheel

Died with a toothache in his heel"

At first, I didn't see much of a reaction to the music from the bystanders. One kobold frowned in confusion over a particularly silly turn of phrase, and another snickered at the use of the word 'peckerhole'. Unperturbed, when I ran out of verses, I launched straight into the next one. It was a tough crowd – one of the toughest I'd ever played for. Not only was there a distinct lack of reactions, but I still had issues decoding the facial expressions of kobolds. Usually, I mix up the moods a bit when I play, try and avoid repetition. Today, however, I was set on keeping the mood happy and have them soften up to me. Only, it just didn't take. A few people started turning back towards what they were doing or walking away, and I was scratching my head in bewilderment. Seriously, with the lives they lived, I'd expected them to be applauding by the end of my first song, but as my third traditional old-fashioned funny folk song was winding down, they looked less and less interested.

Fair enough - time to switch it up some. I wracked my brain. So maybe light and carefree wasn't the right approach for the Fallen. All right. If the poor bastards were unable to enjoy some old-fashioned silliness and unperturbed happiness, we might as well take a darker approach. I cracked my knuckles and charged into an old classic. On the face of it, it seemed reminiscent of the songs I'd just sung, and a few additional members of the audience turned tail (literally) and started leaving - but when I reached the chorus, the mood changed. A couple of the kobolds who were listening to the text launched into uproarious laughter, and an old fellow short one leg almost choked on his drink. Well, the title of the song was 'Poisoning pigeons in the park'. I concentrated on my singing - some of the verses had to be changed slightly to suit the audience - but it looked like the crowd was growing again. I wasted no time, delving deeper into dark humor. Poisoned pigeons were replaced by Weird Al, wondering why his wife kept trying to kill him, and yet again by Macabre singing about a cursed cat that kept reappearing. At this point, I could feel it. I had them. The mood of the audience had changed, and they were hanging onto my every word. The music didn't seem to matter as much as the humor itself though, so I let loose, and let my unpracticed voice ring as loud as it could. At this point, I experimented a bit, moving from morbidity into the realm of the outlandish, treating them to the delightful old ditty I Love Onions. I was rewarded with the sight of two drunk kobolds, clasping at each other in a futile attempt to stand and failing in a pile of drunkenness and laughter both.

I found myself in unchartered territory. This once, I had nowhere to be - no pressing arrangements or quests that begged for instant completion, and I decided to treat the Fallen to a performance to remember. Whichever songs I could come up with that bordered the realm of the bizarre and morbid, I dredged up from the swamp of memory. Often I had to take a moment to change wordings and adapt them to make sense to a tribe of hunter-gatherer lizards stuck in the middle of a forest, and I probably missed more often than not - but never the less, it was a smashing success. The kobolds howled with laughter, treated me to excessive applause that was by no means proportional to my untrained singing voice and kept on egging me on for more songs. 

After almost two hours, I addressed the crowd. "I apologize. My voice is almost gone from lack of practice, and I'd like to be able to sing more tomorrow." This was met with a mixture of boos and applause and I continued. "If there's anybody among you who knows how to sing, however, I'd love to accompany you for as long as my fingers can manage." I smiled in anticipation, but nobody stepped forward, and suddenly I realized my faux pas. Oh yeah, the whole 'fear of reprisal' thing. Flashing an even larger smile, I moved on. "Otherwise, I'll just treat you to some tunes - and besides? I'm here all week. Try the veal." 

The next hour or so, I just played - lively, happy dancing music mostly. Folk songs or whatever jigs I felt like playing. People had mostly returned to their endeavors, but a good number were still loitering, listening to the music and relaxing. To me, letting loose and practicing some of the songs I rarely got to play back in Copenhagen was just an added bonus on top of a job well done. Everything wasn't perfect though. I was getting some nasty looks here and there, and once, a thrown rock struck my boot - some persons were clearly unsatisfied with me ruining the usual rhythm. Either that, or they actually agreed with the hogwash about how Anathema should spend their day reflecting on how to redeem themselves. One of Talen’s crew was also lingering nearby, shooting me the occasional threatening stare. The idea struck me that it'd probably be the wise choice to memorize all escape routes and hiding places nearby. I might be off-limits in the middle of the crowd, but as soon as I was alone - yeah, I'd better ally myself with Muriel to avoid any 'accidents'.

Today, however, proved an absolute success, and I gradually let the music die down, packed up and returned to the basement. There were no tips or rewards to be had from the audience, but I didn't expect that either - they really didn't seem like they had anything to spare. I did receive a couple of pop-ups – skill ups to Performing, Singing and Musician, respectively – and one final intriguing one.

[Your reputation with the Anathema of Nerit has increased by +150. (+20) =180 New reputation: 1180 (liked).]

I amped up my paranoia on the way back, keeping an eye out for anybody following, but that was clearly not the case, and I congratulated myself on a flawless victory. The view that met me upon re-entering the basement, however, quickly sobered me up. All three basement dwellers were waiting for me, talking quietly among themselves, and I timidly entered the room.

Darek spared no time in getting to the point. "You are causing trouble. I told you, Fallen cannot afford trouble. Explain yourself."

I looked for the right words, but after a bit reverted to honesty instead. "I know it'll cause trouble. But what your society is doing to you guys is wrong. Also, having some self-proclaimed vigilantes punish you for a moment of fun on top of that? Even the ones who made the rules can't have had that in mind." 

Darek's frown deepened ever further, until he finally cursed and stood up. He addressed Muriel and Arack. "You know my thoughts on this. The decision is yours."

This left me with the two younger kobolds. Muriel was also keeping a strict facade - Arack less so. In fact, she was bouncing about on her seat, mouthing something to herself. I focused on Muriel to begin with.

He drawled: "I'll be here all week - try the wheel?"

"Oh - I didn't actually think about that much - it's just a phrase musicians use where I'm from. It means I'll be back again."

"And do you intend to play again?"

"Yeah. Most likely, a good bunch of the Fallen have actually earned their sentence, but that's no reason to keep grinding 'em into the dust. Look, I'll level with you. I...don't always think things through on the first go. Same thing goes for today - but I actually want to go back out there. What's the damage in me bringing a sorely needed hint of light into the lifes of these poor suckers?"

"Except of course if you lead Talen straight back to us. That'll be the end of our cozy hideout."

"True." I granted. "That is a threat. I can promise you that I'll do whatever I can to keep your secret and that I'll let myself get Reborn before letting them follow me back here."

He gave that proper consideration. "Unless of course if you fail to spot them. However...as long as you promise to always take the long way back, they'll have plenty of time to jump you beforehand." He got up and stretched, punching me in the shoulder. "Besides, with that voice, somebody's bound to strangle you beforehand." 

My rude gesture fell unnoticed, as he was already striding away with a huge grin on his face. 

I scowled at his retreating back, only to jump, when Arack cleared her throat, reminding me of her presence. "You know, you shouldn't be nervous. Muriel might talk mean, but he's a big old softie. Besides, I own that chubby tail of his, and he knows I liked your songs - he'd never dare hurt me like that."

I gave her a huge grin. My very first real fan ended up being a teenage kobold - who'd have pictured that? "I appreciate it Arack - I owe you one."

"Oh yes you do. Honestly, I think even Darek dislikes the way they treat us, but the old lizard's too soft to change the way he acts at this point."

I nodded. "That's fair. To tell you the truth, I have trouble changing what I dislike about my own damn behavior, and I'm still sort of young. Speaking of which." I shot a glance at Arack. Being within biting distance of a creature with as many sharp teeth as a kobold was still a bit weird to me, and sometimes I had to supress my fight and flight instincts. Still, her face was all earnest, with sincere interest written all over. "Arack, I've been told that it's horrible behavior to ask a person about the reason why they've become Anathema, but...well."

She interrupted. "You're curious?"

"No. Well, yes. But I also just don't understand it. You're young, and you seem like a really nice person."

Her tailed swished back and forth behind her. "Get out of here with that. Also, thanks. And I don't mind sharing. It wasn't exactly the largest surprise for me when it happened - they'd warned me what was going to happen for a long time, really. If only..." she sighed. "I had the chance to become a priestess at a young age, but I turned it down. You should've heard my parents go on and on: 'Are you insane? You'll never get another chance like this - it's this or the hunters, and you know you haven't got the endurance for that.' Of course, they were right, but is that any reason to drone on and on?" 

I pointedly did not say anything at this point - and she continued.

"Of course, I believed that I knew everything. Pits, I still do. The thing is, Arcangelo, they're wrong. They're dead wrong, and I need to show them. Here - check this out." She rolled up her sleeves and held up her arms for me to peruse. 

At first I couldn't tell what she was aiming at, but when I peered closer, I could see how the scales in a row a bit above the elbow on both arms looked discolored and skewed - almost broken - and her otherwise brawny arms looked a lot thinner from that point and all the way to her clawed hands. "What is that, Arack? An injury?"

"Yup. My parents used to say that I was always a wild one - I suppose they're right at that. Well, this was my very first reminder that your actions have consequences. Heh. Personally, I think that they could've let me off with a stern warning or something. I don't know what I was doing at the time - exploring the ruins, most likely. Even at 8, I was fast enough to elude capture all the time, meaning I pretty much did what I wanted to. Anyway, I must've upset something in this old house, because suddenly half the wall came tumbling down on me. Somehow, I managed to avoid the worst of it, but this one huge block of stone landed right on top of both my arms." 

I flinched at the mental picture, but Arack just laughed. "You've got that right. The gods know I bawled my eyes out. I cried, screamed and cursed and cried some more. Only, this was on the outskirts, so nobody heard me. I must've passed out too at some point, because I vividly remember waking back up, only to find that it wasn't a nightmare after all. Not sure how long time went by - but eventually, somebody did find me and tip off the stone. They must've somehow found out where I lived too, because I came to back in bed." She grimaced. "And that was pretty much that." She mimicked different voices. 

"Oh Arack, why are you so careless?"

"I regret to tell you this, but the damage to the muscle is permanent. She will never be able to be a warrior after all."

"You just rest love. We'll find another place for you."

Arack’s smiling face turned malevolent for a moment. "And they all expected me to accept that like a good girl." 

"So - what did you do?"

The tiny kobold jumped abruptly into the air, to balance precariously in a heroic positure on her chair. "What any warrior of legend would do. I rebelled. Well, first I got better. And then I told them where they could shove it and started training. Unfortunately, they were right on one account - the muscles in my arms had been permanently damaged. Not a fun discovery, I can attest to that. But I didn't let that stop me - and while I used to be pretty strong, I've always been fast as lightning. And when I got back to training, I focused all my efforts on my speed and agility. It worked too! After a bunch of years, none of the others were able to touch me, except on a bad day, and if it hadn't been for that cranky old teacher who refused to see how I'd hold my own in a battle, I would be a warrior today, living life and taking names." She raised her chin, proud and defiant.

A voice rang from the doorway. "Tell him the rest of the story." Darek looked straight at Arack with a stern expression.

"But I've only told him the truth."

He remained unmoved. "Lying through omission is still a lie. Thracken knows."

She fumed, but eventually settled back down into the chair. "I didn't lie!" she insisted. "It's just...well, the older I grew and the more they realized I wasn't going to change my mind, the harder they made things for me - especially old Tarkos. He introduced rope pulls, weight lifting, all sorts of things that were meant to show me that I'd never succeed as a warrior. He couldn't just toss me though, since I dominated any unarmed matches or matches with light weapons. In the end, he won the battle though. When it came to my rite of admission, he made me fight Dvorack, that primitive sack of scales - and how he must've laughed - because he made us fight unarmed - but in a full set of heavy leather armor."  A bit of her earlier spark returned. "I didn't back down easily though, It took her ten minutes before I was tired enough that she could catch me off guard. I must've hit her fifty times by then, I just - I didn't have the strength to get through the armor." She spoke up. "Happy now, you old spoilsport?"

Darek responded from the doorway: "You know I dislike that story. I am still conflicted on whether Dvorack's actions were dishonorable. However, if you have decided that Arcangelo is worthy of hearing the story, he should hear it all." Slowly, he ambled back into the hallway and disappeared.

"For what it's worth, I appreciate you telling me." I winked at her. "I actually preferred the first version - what say we create a song later to properly lay it out there, heroic-like?"

She laughed and nodded eagerly. 

I held up a hand. "Oh, before we start inventing the legend of Arack, the whirlwind warrior princess, I do have one serious question."

"Oh, I like the sound of that. Not the serious question part, the other part. I guess I'll suffer one more question, if it's not too long."

I nodded in gratitude. "It's about your training. I'm guessing that means you intend to take the test at some point and redeem yourself?"

"Yes. Not this time around though. I've only just gotten started on throwing knives, and both Darek and Muriel agree I should learn those first."

"Fair enough. I was just wondering - what's to keep them from pulling the same dirty tricks they did last time?"

She flashed me a smile. "Oh that's easy. I've been learning all sorts of things about poison from Muriel. Try to tire me out, it won't be me keeling over this time, that's for sure."

Turns out Thracken cares more about winning than he does weird constructs such as 'honor'. Every day was a new learning experience in Nerit.