The Wanderer's Rebirth: Other Paths

He’d only been paying attention peripherally to the young miss, instead savouring the delightful aroma wafting up to his nose from the bowl in front of him.

But now, his gaze sharpened as his survival instincts kicked in. Reviewing the past few seconds in his mind, Theril realized what had alerted him: Myra’s back going straight as a rod.

Normally, her posture was beyond reproach, having been coached from youth. But when her stubborn streak kicked in, her back became like a board. He quickly glanced at her ears, not wanting to be rude and all, and found that both were now distinctly facing their host.

Hob crap, he thought, trying to think of any possible way to diffuse the situation, whatever it was, before Myra once again lost her temper.

“Hot-hot,” Joram said, waving at his mouth with one hand while trying to keep the bottle out of Myra’s hands with the other.

“I’ll be the judge of that!” she said, trying in vain to wrestle the bottle out of his one hand with both of hers.

“Myra, now be reasonable,” Kalduin started to interject before getting a scathing look from his sister.

“Myra,” Theril finally spoke, his tone leaning heavily towards warning and the implication that if she didn’t listen, she’d be in a lot of trouble.

“No, I won’t sit idly by while I’m insulted,” she said, glaring at them all as her head swung back and forth to allow her to do so. “If our gracious host finds this condiment palatable, then I surely would as well.”

Theril was at a loss. Had she gone crazy? He could smell the stuff from here, and that was enough to make his nose twitch more than it had for the odd white root vegetable that Joram had chopped up earlier.

“No, waste food is bad,” Joram said in his broken, albeit exquisitely enunciated common as he looked from Myra to her bowl of food.

“If it’s good enough for your food, it’s good enough for mine,” Myra stubbornly persisted.

“Why not try some of it first?” Theril asked, desperately hoping that his level in [Diplomacy] was high enough to convince the headstrong woman.

Joram looked at him, blinked, then seemed to get the gist of what he’d said. Then Theril just about laughed out loud when Joram stood up, bottle still in hand, and in Myra’s hands. She was dragged up by her arms, nearly overturing her bowl, much to Joram’s clear annoyance… which worried him more than a little, if he was being honest with himself.

So far, they knew almost nothing about the young human. Who he was, what Paths he might have taken, or how strong he was. Given that Myra was now dangling from one of Joram’s upraised arms, he suspected that he might be about as strong as he was, which was saying something.

Though, given the man’s size, perhaps that shouldn’t have surprised him.

Kalduin looked torn between scandalized and wanting to laugh his tail off. Theril couldn’t blame him as he watched Joram step over to the kitchen, open a drawer with his free hand, and retrieved an oddly shaped red spoon. It was very hard not to either laugh, or try to intercede in what was happening given his current responsibilities. But during all that, Myra continued to grumble out things that varied from insults to insisting that she’d be fine.

Joram glanced between the spoon in his hand, the contested bottle, and the red-faced Myra hanging from his arm. His frown deepened to the point where Theril thought that he should intercede post haste, but was too late.

Joram’s free hand, his left hand, quickly shot out and poked Myra in the side, eliciting a very childish squeak/shriek from her as she dropped to the floor, barely managing to keep from falling over.

Then her tails popped back into being, already poof’d out in anger. But before she could fully explode, Joram’s frown quickly morphed into a scowl before he spoke one word.

“Sit.”

From where he was standing, Theril could feel the intensity of both his gaze and the command, nearly causing him to look for his chair. Fortunately, he’d had many years of weathering the Chief’s various moods, including moods like this. So, he remained standing.

But Kalduin immediately found his chair and sat. Then his heart nearly stopped as Myra also complied, her tails low enough already that she didn’t need to worry about fitting them through the bottom of chair’s back.

Theril stood there, stunned. What just happened? He asked himself and Joram continued to stare at Myra for a few seconds longer before lowering his right arm, bottle still in hand.

With great relief in his heart, Theril watched as Joram opened the bottle, its top on some sort of tiny hinge, and pour out a little bit of the red stuff into the weird, and small, spoon.

“Try. If it is big hot, no put on food,” he said, giving her a very stern look that inexplicably reminding him of his father scolding him as a child.

Theril was further impressed and astonished when Myra’s ears began to wilt a bit, then once again terrified when her back once again regained its rod-like posture.

“Fine,” she said, taking the small red spoon full of the nose-stinging red liquid.

To her credit, she only hesitated a moment more before stuffing the spoon into her mouth and swallowing.

Everyone waited with bated breath it seemed… except for Joram. He just continued to stare at Myra, who’s ears were slowly perking back up.

From where he was, he couldn’t quite see Myra’s face, so he silently side-stepped until he could. Then he got worried again.

Myra’s face had started to turn deeper shades of red as the seconds passed. Her ears were once again fully erect but were now also vibrating, clearly showing her distress. Not only that, but sweat had already started to bead on her face, then began rolling down as she did her best to keep watery-eyed contact with Joram.

Only eleven seconds after having taken the spoonful of red death, Myra burst out in hysterical squeals about burning alive, tears now freely flowing down her face.

Kalduin was torn between helping his twin and attacking the one who’d caused her so much obvious pain. Theril, though, knew what to do.

“How to we help?” he asked Joram who was stepping over to the tall white box and opening the top door.

“Here, eat this,” he said, pulling out what looked like an incredibly well-cut slice of bread from some sort of clear, yet colourful… bag?

Myra practically bit his hand off in her haste to find relief, chomping on the slice of bread until it was gone a few moments later.

“Eat more slow,” Joram said, sounding exasperated as he handed her a second piece of bread.

This time, Myra bit off a hard-looking chunk and ate it much slower, taking her time to chew before swallowing. This seemed to work better, as both her complexion and sweating improved very quickly. Another couple of minutes passed in silence as Myra slowly, and methodically, ate the bread as Kalduin hovered protectively at her side.

Eventually, Myra looked up at Joram with red eyes and spoke.

“What was that?” she asked, pinning him with her malevolent, bloodshot eyes.

“Bread,” Joram grunted, then put the oddly wrapped loaf back into the white box-thingy as Myra stared at him incredulously.

“Not that! The red stuff!” she exclaimed, pointing at the glass bottle on the table.

“Frank’s,” Joram said, pointing at the bottle, making all three of them turn to one another as they tried to figure out what Joram had said.

“Too hot,” he said, picking up the bottle and pouring some onto his own, larger, spoon. “For you.”

With that said, he put into his mouth at least three times what Myra had. Everyone’s eyes widened in shock, expecting a reaction at least on par with Myra’s. But as the seconds passed, his face remained impassive to the deathly liquid that he’d just ingested.

“Now, eat,” he said, bringing their attention back to their own food, much to Theril’s relief.

So, with Joram taking a seat, the rest of them follow suit. Now that the lunchtime… diversion had been dealt with, his stomach was reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since before dawn. Fortunately, Joram had mercy on them as he took the first bite of his food, thus allowing them to commence.

Then it was all savoury bliss combined with the somewhat sharp taste of the finely grated cheese. The noodles were similar in shape for what had been used to make the ambrosia-like orange dish, but their texture and taste were slightly different. But still amazing.

The red sauce was nothing like he’d experienced before. The slight tang, the saltiness as well as the savoury nature of the sauce all went perfectly with the meat that was mysteriously easy to chew. Not like the “wieners” in the orange dish, but still chewy like meat should be.

Then his spoon clinked in his bowl, letting him know that he’d unconsciously devoured it all. Blushing a bit, he stole a glance at Kalduin’s bowl and found that the young [Priest] was almost done with his own food, a look of bliss on his face. Looking a bit further, he was astonished to see that Myra hadn’t finished her own bowl yet.

Taking a second look, it didn’t look like she’d taken more than a spoonful before having laid said spoon beside her bowl.

What is going on?

* * * * *

Joram ate in silence, pretending to not notice that Myra wasn’t eating. Sure, she’d eaten a spoonful, bust she’d stopped shortly after that.

He felt a bit bad for having given her the Frank’s against his better judgement, but sometimes people wouldn’t learn until they experienced something for themselves. Like having a found that felt like you’d popped a hot coal in it. Then swallowed it.

He could imagine how her stomach felt like, having gone through something similar in the past. He did not envy the next couple of times she’d need to go to the bathroom. He didn’t think it’d be anywhere near what he’d experienced, mostly due to Frank’s not being that bad, but it would probably still be somewhat uncomfortable for her.

Hmm, what do they use to wipe here? He mused, pacing himself so that he’d still have half a bowl left by the time the other two men finished their meals.

Would she appreciate some toilet paper? Or… does [Cleanse] work like it does for Rain? He paused eating for a moment, as he tried to figure out the last time he’d used the toilet.

‘Avi?’

‘Yes, Joram?’

‘Does [Cleanse] also get rid of waste in ones’ bowels?’

‘No, it does not,’ she replied, shaking her head. ‘Even though you’re a few organs short, your body has been improved upon significantly. Even if you choose to eat something, there is practically no waste left behind after you’ve digested it.’

‘Define, “practically”,’ he sent, now very curious about his new physiology.

‘Any solids are reduced to less than 0.001% of volume consumed, as almost everything is converted into energy.’

Holy efficiency Batman!

Joram shook his head just before noticing that the two other guys had finished their servings.

“More?” he asked, motioning to their bowls.

Theril, the obviously more conscientious one, quickly glanced at Myra’s stoic face, then with every indication of great reluctance, shook his head.

“No, that is good, thank you,” he replied, the pain in his eyes making his eyes sparkle.

“OK,” he replied, not wanting to infringe upon the man’s pride. “Wait,” he said, then took Myra’s bowl before heading back into the kitchen, ignoring her indignant look.

A moment later he had a few zipseal containers; those cheap ones you’d get at the store if you weren’t sure you’d get them back. Soon enough, he’d packed away the leftovers, even adding some parmesan to each of the containers. For Myra’s leftovers, he pulled open a drawer, the “junk drawer” that exists in just about everyone’s house, and grabbed a permanent marker.

A quick scribble later, and he was done.

“Here,” he said, passing a stack of containers to Kalduin, who then stared at them as though trying to figure out what they were.

He then handed Myra hers, her name written in their weird runic scrip in black marker on the top. She blinked, then blinked again when she finally read what he’d written.

“You spelled it wrong,” she said as she turned away, causing his eyebrow to twitch a bit.

“Thank you!” Theril quickly spoke up and stepped over to distract him.

Man, is this guy actually her babysitter?

“Yup,” Joram replied, getting an odd look from Theril for his use of the english language. “Later?” he asked, raising his non-twitching eyebrow.

“Yes. Two days?” Theril asked, still talking as though Joram was a toddler.

Well, he couldn’t blame him as he’d only had two real lessons in the language so far.

“Yes,” he said, then a thought occurred to him. “Hmmm, help find,” he said, hating his limited vocabulary as he stepped over an pulled a sheet of paper from the printer’s tray.

“Find what?” Theril asked, looking intrigued.

As Joram quickly sketched out one of the ugly goblins, Kalduin and Myra also leaned over to see what was going on. For as hard as he tried, he quickly realized that he’d gotten more than just a little bit rusty over the yet. Some things were easy enough, but the fact that he’d never tried to draw a goblin before seemed to make the whole process harder than he would have liked.

Especially given Myra’s expression. One that clearly told him that she was trying very hard not to laugh at him.

“Find,” he said, holding up the “reasonable” semblance of a goblin for them to see.

“Oh, that’s a dungeon goblin,” Kalduin said, nodding as though that made sense.

Which got the other two nodding, though Theril looked the most confident of the bunch.

“Why do you need to find them?” Theril asked, looking back at him.

“Because they attack me. A lot,” he said, glad that his vocabulary had been good enough for at least that.

“Really?” Kalduin asked, looking both a bit interested, and a lot concerned.

“Yes,” Joram affirmed, now frowning slightly at the young man who then raised his hands in a placating-like gesture. Even their body language was a bit different that what he was used to….

Remembering that he needed to level his [Analyze] Skill, and that he also knew practically nothing about his guests, Joram quickly identified the three of them.

Name: Theril Namar, 25

Path: [Guardian]

Level: 13

Name: Kalduin Manelle, 21

Path: [Priest]

Level: 9

Name: Myra Manelle, 21

Path: [Miko]

Level: 7

Huh, are those levels good? In PFRPG, at least Theril would be considered to be in the higher levels. But, is that good for their ages? Are they just hanging around their village all day, or are they actively adventuring? Well, at least Theril and Myra seem to have Rare Paths, while Kalduin seems to… have a common one?

I wish I could see their stats. That might give me an idea of where I’m at….

Seeing that the three of them still looked a bit dubious, Joram told them to wait there. Instead of just taking out one of the cores from his inventory that he’d gotten from the goblins, he decided to pretend to need to get something from his bedroom.

He only spent a few seconds in there, having easily retrieved the core, yet not wanting it to look weird. Then he went back, arriving just in time for Myra’s belly to gurgle, causing her to blush as she pressed her hands to her stomach in alarm.

Oh, literal, crap, he thought, remembering one of the unfortunate ways that strong spice could affect people.

Seeing as how Myra was still able to play it cool, he decided to quickly ask before something happened.

“This from goblins,” he said, presenting the tiny core to Theril.

Theril looked down, then blinked before reaching out to pick it up, but paused before he could.

“Can I?” he asked, motioning to the core.

Joram just put it into the man’s hand, not bothering to waste time by responding.

Theril stepped over to one of the light fixtures on the wall and held the core up to the light, presumably to get a better look at it.

“Ooh, it’s so clear,” Myra said, her tone one of admiration.

“It sure is,” Theril replied, shaking his head. “If it weren’t for its shape, I’d have said that it was a Rank D core instead of a Rank E core due to the clarity,” he finished, annoying Joram with how many words he hadn’t gotten out of that.

Theril turned back to Joram looking a bit more serious.

“From a goblin?” he asked, going back to his slow and deliberate way of speaking to him.

“Yes,” he replied, getting a bit exasperated with the double and triple confirmations needed for these guys.

*GURR~~RRGG~GGG~~~GGLE*

Joram stopped, as did the other two men, and turned to look at a now very red-faced Myra.

“We should go!” she quickly said, desperately looking at the outside door.

Joram heaved a sigh, then placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to start a squeak in fright.

“Come,” he said, then started walking towards the bathroom with Myra in literal tow.

He ignored her protestations and the other two who slowly followed them the six metres to the bathroom. Once inside, he let go of her shoulder, retrieved several tea lights, and then lit them. He placed a couple on the counter next to the toilet, then another couple at the far end of the bathtub, away from the toilet.

With that done, he pointed at the toilet and started to leave when her confused look stopped him dead.