The Beast of Ildenwood: 1. Foreign Tongues & Flaming Lungs

The Beast of Ildenwood 

1. Foreign Tongues & Flaming Lungs

He awakens under a starry sky. The crackling of fire sounds nearby, and he can feel its warm glow on his skin. His skin… feels strange. His body feels unlike itself. And all he can remember is…

A sudden pain rushes through his head and down his spine.

With a groan, he sits up and looks around. The fire is small, its blue flames dancing eagerly in the breeze, but its heat is fierce. Even twelve steps away, he can feel the warmth envelop him. Across from him, on the other side of the fire, there is a person. A woman. For a moment, he sees another face in hers, someone he ought to remember, but the vision soon disappears, and instead he stares at the woman who watches him cautiously.

“Wms’pc yuyic,” she says, and he doesn’t understand a word of it.

Suddenly, a strange item materializes before him, like a parchment, floating in mid-air. 

Learn Foreign Tongue? Cost: (-30 Energy) Profit: (+3 INT)

He reads it many times, and wonders at the page. Never before has he encountered such magic, and it unsettles him, for he knows, somehow, that all magic is dark.

“Ypc wms jmmile yr wmsp esgbc?” the woman asks, and once again he strains to understand. What he can tell is that she cannot see what he can see, for she stares straight past it, completely oblivious.

He realizes that he is in a foreign land with a woman he does not know, with little memory of the life he had before, and comes to a decision. If all magic is, indeed, dark, he would soon know. After all, he has nothing to lose, does he? He has no memory, no belongings, not even a name – nothing.

He strokes his chin. How does he agree to such a proposal? What does it mean by cost and profit? Are Energy and INT forms of currency? Perhaps they are a magical means of payment?

Another floating parchment – smaller than the one he has been reading – materializes.

To agree to the proposal, simply state your agreement.

“Ypc wms yjpgfr?” He can see that the woman is becoming uncomfortable. She holds a bundle tightly in her arms – a precious item to her, no doubt. She studies him apprehensively.

“Yes,” he says simply.

The parchments fade from view, and for a moment it is, once again, just him and the woman and the starry sky. Then, he feels a sort of rush – only, it seems almost as though it is both draining and energizing all at once – and another page appears. 

You have successfully learned Foreign Tongue. You have gained +3 INT. Cost: -30 Energy

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

This time, he does. “Yes,” he says, and feels a wave of exhaustion rush through him. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” she replies, and seems slightly less unsettled. “What is your name? Where are you from? Why were you in my forest?”

“Your forest?” he echoes, completely at a loss. “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything, except…” He thinks hard for a moment, trying to reach back into the caverns of his mind, and in the pain he finds only one thing: “Feeling miserable.”

“How odd,” she murmurs, but relaxes her posture. “I found you in the forest as I was… leaving. I am traveling, you see. I carried you here, thinking it was better than leaving you behind in the woods.”

“Thank you,” he says. “I’ve been a burden, it seems.”

“Not at all,” she says with a smile he cannot quite decipher. “You’ve been as light as a feather. My name is Lahab, by the way.”

“Where are we?”

“We are in Ildenwood. I must pass through here, then through Samat to journey to Nawm. Do any of these places sound familiar to you?”

“No,” he admits, and Lahab’s brown eyes dart towards the dying flames. “But… perhaps, if I travel with you, I can remember something. That is – if you’ll have me.”

He has no other choice. He could travel alone, but he knows nothing of this place he has found himself in, and knows nothing of the people, and has absolutely no idea where he could travel to or how he might survive. With her, at least, he has a chance at a relatively easier journey.

“I don’t mind having a traveling companion,” she says, then leans over the dying flames and inhales deeply. With some force, she exhales – but it is not air that escapes her lungs; it is fire.

“How...” He stares at her, mouth agape in awe. “How did you do that? Was that magic?”

Lahab shrugs, does not meet his eyes. “It’s Flaming Lungs – an attribute I have. I inherited it from my father,” she explains, and when she realizes that he still does not understand anything, she continues. “I suppose you could call it magic, but… it’s a natural attribute I was born with. Like a talent one is gifted with. Some people can turn lightning into Energy, some can elongate their lives by inhaling the LF of others – I can blow fire.”

“Energy?” he asks, still lost. “LF? Attributes? I… don’t understand.”

She cocks her head and studies him for a moment, considers his words. “Yes… I suppose you might have forgotten all about those as well, if you can’t even remember your own name. When I tried to inspect your condition earlier, everything came up blank,” she adds.

“Condition?” he sighs helplessly, frustration perched upon his chest. He suddenly begins to feel quite drowsy and drained. “Please, explain it to me.”

“Well, there’s a lot to explain… Allow me to begin by answering your questions,” she says, then takes a moment, as though thinking through how best to approach the subject. “Everyone in this world has a certain amount of LF – that’s how we refer to Life Force. When your LF is completely depleted, you die. In many ways, LF is one of the most important elements of your current condition, and everyone has different amounts. But your Life Force is hidden from me. I cannot see it, and my inspection skill is quite highly developed.”

Alright, he thinks, willing himself to understand, to simply accept what he felt his mind was already rebelling against. Alright. Life Force. Everyone has some, when it runs out, you’re dead. Got it.

“Energy is simply how much energy you have to undertake certain tasks. It’s closely linked to your Life Force, but when your Energy is depleted, you tend to fall asleep or lose consciousness in order to replenish it. Do you understand everything so far?”

“I… I think I’m following you,” he says, but there’s a question of uncertainty in his tone that she picks up on. He is tired, and he wants nothing more than to sleep, overwhelmed by an exhaustion that seems to tug at his brain with thick, tarred hands.

With a reassuring smile, she says, “Do not fret. Ask me anything you’d like. I’m certain that you’ll remember soon.”

“You mentioned, earlier, that you could inspect my current condition. You can see my Life Force and Energy and all of my – my attributes?”

“Normally, that is the case,” she confirms, setting her bundle aside and twisting her long black hair into a bun atop her head. “I am quite skilled in that regard. However, it seems you have a shield of sorts. Perhaps it is one of your attributes. I cannot see anything beyond your title and your current status.”

“And what are those?”

“Look for yourself. You should be able to see more than I. Simply call upon your Guide.” When she realizes he has no idea what she’s talking about, she leads by example. “Your Guide is a book. Every person receives a Guide upon their birth. It records many aspects of your life, from the moment you are born, until the moment you die. To access it, you need simply state: ‘Guide, please.’”

“Guide, please,” he repeats, and this time it is not a parchment-like paper that materializes in front of him. “It’s… a book,” he breathes, realizing that Lahab cannot see what he sees.

“Yes,” she tells him. “That is your book. The first pages will always contain information pertinent to you. That should include your name and other personal information that might help you remember who you are and where you’ve come from. The rest of the pages are filled with anything you wish – anything you know – recipes, experiences, people, places, creatures – anything.”

He turns to the first leaf, hoping that it might hold the key to his identity. Instead, he is met with a sparse page. 

???
Wanderer of Realms
Age	???	Life Force	???
Echelon	???	Energy	1
Strength	???	Defense	???
Dexterity	???	Instinct	???
Speed	???	Intelligence	43
Status: Cursed

“I… don’t understand,” he says, furrowing his brow as yet another painful ache makes its home in his head. He flips through the other pages, but all of them are blank, and so he returns to that first, perplexing leaf in his book.

“There is no name. No age. No Life Force. No… Echelon? It says – it says I am the Wanderer of Realms, and my status is Cursed…?” He glances up at Lahab, and her eyes narrow in consideration. “I thought you said it should have all my information.”

“That is very odd… Share it with me,” she says. “If you don’t mind. I think, perhaps, your amnesia might have something to do with it, but I’ll need access to your book to be sure.”

“Alright… Erm… Share with Lahab?”

Are you certain you wish to share your private information with Lahab?

What choice do I have? She doesn’t seem dangerous, despite the fact that he feels he should be running for the hills after the flames that poured out of her lungs. Besides, it isn’t as though the book contains any information I can understand.

“Yes,” he says.

For a long moment, Lahab stares at what looks to be thin air, but what must be the contents of his book. Her brow furrows and she scratches her head. He feels the familiar lull of sleep tugging at him once more, his exhausted body begging him to slumber.

“Well,” she says at last, just as his eyes are beginning to close, “All I can say for certain is that you need rest, immediately. I’m surprised you’ve stayed awake so long. You should sleep, Wanderer of Realms, and when you awaken, we will once again try our luck with investigating your origins.”

Sleep, he thinks, and even as she speaks he can feel the veil of the dream world wrap around him, drawing him closer to oblivion. 

Sleep…

🔥