A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands

Chapter 16: New Lodgings

The great Arks, living ships of near-indestructible magical witchwood, made excellent time across the water, their massive bulk now pushed and pulled by the gigantic leviathans that made the deep places of the sea their home. Great cheers were raised when the ships made landfall on the western continent.

- On the Cataclysm by an unknown Quassian Scholar circa 103 AC

Half a day of grueling labor had been an exhausting, yet strangely relaxing experience. There in the mine, it was just my pick and I, waging a never-ending war against the rock. It reminded me of the time when I washed dishes for a summer job; the dirty plates heaped with leftover delectables, more arriving at an increasing pace throughout the night until finally, it was closing time. Muscle memory took over, and the mind was free to think of other things.

The pull of the chain from the line snapped me from my reverie of the past, my hobbled feet almost stumbling as we were led to our next destination. The heavy ore-filled wicker basket’s straps cut painfully into my shoulders as we moved. Passing by a sorting area, we deposited the load as instructed, before filing off and continuing our weary march.

We arrived at our final destination, a compound surrounded by tall high walls of smooth quarried stone. A single gate led into the place, and we were herded through like tired cattle after a long day of pasture. On our left, as we entered the walled slave pens, flowing open water ran across a rough cut line in the stone floor. It rushed fast like a mountain stream, before disappearing into a wide steel grate running into the ground. We passed elderly slaves of both sexes stooped and hunched, washing clothes and other miscellany, eyes held low as the guards passed. We were corralled into another area and gave up our various tools to some official-looking guards, who counted and wrote on tablets as we handed them in. Another group of cruel-eyed guards took us to another area with slaves in various states of undress, washing in the cool open air with cupped hands along a shallow stream that flowed into a wide iron grate.

“Wash here. Relieve yourself down by the grate,” a guard with a large pole flail instructed simply, voice bestial in its implied promise of danger. It appeared that my captors had some idea of the importance of hygiene in efficiently maintaining a slave population. Disease could run rampant if at least basic levels of cleanliness were not observed.

Here, even at the bottom rung of society, a pecking order was established. Those more belligerent or strong took a place near the source of the flowing water, while others made do further downstream with the dirtier remnants. My bladder almost painfully swollen, I made to go down to the grate to relieve myself.

After fulfilling my bodily needs, I moved back further upstream to a place with cleaner water, before a huge block of a man shoved me back with a grunt. I had to tilt my neck upwards to first see blonde hair hung in loose locks, dripping water, a chiseled jaw, and an aquiline nose set in a face that looked like it was carved from hard stone. Cold blue eyes like twin glaciers dared me to try again.

“I am first to wash,” he drawled in a low voice, almost like a warning growl from a bear. He raised a fist at me before turning away and going down to the water to bathe, cocky, slow, and sure in his arrogant stride.

The sudden threat of violence caused a spike of adrenaline, and my face flushed with anger. I checked my Status preparing to reply in turn with violence, when a familiar gravelly voice piped behind me, “Don’t mind him lad. Just wait your turn, we’ll all get there eventually. Guards will beat you twice as hard if they see you fighting here.”

Turning around I recognized the wide frame of Durhit, his eyes dull with exhaustion. I was in no shape to enter combat anyway, and the threat of punishment kept me in check for all but a split second.

I was about to thank him for his sage advice, but something gnawed at me. A seed of violence that was born in the arena. Having faced bullies before, I felt it necessary to show at least some form of resistance. It wasn’t about who got to clean themselves first anymore. If I accepted this treatment, I would be accepting it for the rest of my time here. I had had enough of it in my old world, I wouldn’t have it here. Absently, I also noticed that my recent gain in Strength made my Health and Stamina go up by a small increment, and that I had gained a modest amount of experience from toil in the mines.

Health

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I pushed through some of the waiting slaves, finding my target washing himself. At first, I only intended to prove that I was not so easily cowed, but somehow his vulnerability as he lowered his face to the water to wash inspired something much darker in me. I am no expert of the martial arts, having only learned a little karate as a teenager at the local sports center for a few summers. I am not usually violent by nature. However, my sudden transportation, the constant smorgasbord of pain just to survive, the constant threat of death, and my recently awarded victory at the arena unlocked something I think that all of us possess deep inside.

I threw a punch with all of my weight and cold-blooded anger as I splashed into the water, instinctually aiming for the space just above the nape of his neck. I connected with a meaty wallop with a closed fist full of rage. By some lucky star, the titan of a man fell into the water stunned. Falling on top of him, I grabbed his head and kept smashing it against the cold hard stone with my hands. The water began to blossom crimson and the slaves parted away from me like Moses before the Red Sea, fear etched in their stupid bovine eyes. They looked at me like I was some sort of wild animal. I got up then quietly, walking a bit further from the spreading crimson to wash my face in cleaner waters.

After splashing my face a few times, notifications flashed across my inner vision and I couldn’t help but laugh. It seemed that my karate classes had paid off, and a green belt was about a level three in this world in terms of skill.

You have slain a Human 240 experience gained

You have learned Backstab (lvl.2)

You have learned unarmed Combat

You have learned unarmed Combat (lvl.1)

You have learned unarmed Combat (lvl.2) You have learned unarmed Combat (lvl.3) You have learned Critical Hit Mastery (lvl.2) You have gained 1 Strength

You have gained 1 Dexterity

You have gained 1 Luck

You have reached level 6

3 unassigned attribute points

1 unassigned skill point

Something inside of me probably broke then as I kept laughing at the pure absurdity of my new reality. This was a world that rewarded violence and death. If this wasn’t a game then what was? The notifications confirmed it; I had killed a no-name human NPC and was rewarded for it. The guards came for me then, a new cautious respect in their eyes, with long poled man catchers and their wicked whips. I was mentally exhausted. My pent-up anger and frustration were fully spent in my cathartic explosion of violence, so raising my hands in the universal sign of surrender I accepted my fate. I made sure to hurriedly increase just my Strength and my Heal spell as they closed in.

They beat me after they captured me, expressionless in their discipline. Like good workmen, they went about their task diligently, going over me with a professional’s effortless rhythm from a task practiced so many times it had become rote. I was dragged to another cell, raised high up on chains attached to my manacled wrists. There, with my Health already quite low, I was forced to accept the touch of the lash. Many times I thought the pain was too great and I felt myself sinking to the blessed refuge of unconsciousness. However, they were experts of their craft and would not allow me to fall into insensibility, splashing me with water or targeting a particularly sensitive nerve with their cruel irons. Finally after what seemed like an eternity of suffering, my throat hoarse with long-running screams, they left me to welter in the dark. As some sort of consolation prize I was given a new notification, which caused another round of whimpered sobbing.