Hesketh Tolson
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RS 37: The Seaweed is Always Greener
🕑 Added 2021-06-07 07:01:54 +0000 UTCChapter 37
The Seaweed is Always Greener
Fred, Joan, Hugo, Alice and Epic walked through the gate into a blaze of intense white light. A voice boomed: “WELCOME TO LEVEL 2!” There was the sound of rather tinny applause as if played through a distant loudspeaker.
They blinked in the light, trying to see.
CLANG.
The gate slammed shut behind them.
The light dimmed.
And then dimmed some more.
Wherever they were it was warm and dark. The darkness was a deep, intense blue, blooming into indigo as Fred’s eyes adjusted. He looked down. They were standing on a rocky ledge. A rocky ledge in the middle of the ocean. Under the ocean. Surrounded by water. They were enclosed in a flimsy looking pocket of air. Schools of little silvery fish swam by, looking at them curiously. The rock itself was jutting out from a cliff that was covered in seaweed and pastel corals. The rocks were teeming with life - busy crustaceans, schools of clownfish and the occasional octopus drifted by on an unseen current. Beyond the giant bubble of their ledge the ocean stretched away, dropping into unfathomable distance.
“Are we…underwater?” asked Alice, her eyes wide.
“Looks that way,” said Fred.
“Ug,” said Joan.
“What?”
“I hate underwater levels,” she said with a sigh.
“What’s wrong with them?”
“Skills are always shit, you can't orientate easily, things come at you from all sides - they're just all miserable. Can everyone swim?” They all nodded in the affirmative.
“Your fireballs are going to be fun,” said Alice to Hugo. Her eyes brightened as he scowled.
“Are you sure you can swim? Your giant mouth doesn’t get in the way?”
“The surface seems a really long way up,” said Fred, hurriedly. He peered up, trying to gauge how far away it was and couldn’t. The sunlight and water acted like a mirage, distorting all sense of distance. Overhead the light was momentarily blotted out by a sea going leviathan. A whale? Fred hoped it was a whale.
“Look down there,” said Hugo, pointing into the chasm beside them. They all peered into the murky depths. “There’s ruins! Look, there's columns in the water. It looks like a drowned city or something… oh wow there’s a really big shark.”
[ding! New Quest! Explore the Sunken Ruins!]
“Uggggg,” said Joan.
Their own rock had some sea-weedy, mossy stuff growing on it and a rather relaxed looking skeleton in the corner. It was wearing gold hoop earrings and holding a pile of oil skin wraps. A note was stuck on top. It said:
For your stuff.
Fred turned it over. On the other side it said.
At least, the stuff you want to keep dry.
“Considerate,” he said, handing them out.
“Ug,” said Joan, again.
The Incomplete Guide to Some Things popped into existence with a flurry of golden sparkles. The magical book flew open, its thick vellum pages rustling. Out sprung the Guide’s head, the ginger head wearing his ever present sneer.
“Well?” he said.
“Well, what?” asked Fred.
“Well, do you have any questions? Tick tock, I haven’t got all day.”
“Where are we?” asked Hugo.
“Level Two,” said the Guide. He leered at Hugo over the giant page. “I thought you were at least literate. How disappointing.”
“Can we see the map?”
The Guide rolled his eyes and vanished with a golden pop. The pages fluttered open.
The expanse of the pages was void black, except for a tiny exposed blue patch in the corner marked with ‘X’ YOU ARE HERE. The edges were decorated with brown ink, and what looked suspiciously like a coffee stain. To one side was an ornate compass rose held aloft by too teeny tiny little mermaids.
“Enlightening,” said Fred.
“Happy?” said the Guide, reappearing. “You can’t go back, you can only go on.”
“How far is it to the surface?” asked Epic, looking up. The distant sunlight seemed very faint. The Guide shrugged.
“Dunno,” he said. “What I do know is that this is your new spawn point. Die before you reach Level 3 and this is where you will appear.”
“Do we get to keep our new gear?” asked Alice, looking worried. She patted her many belts with some anxiety. “Or do we go back to our original stuff?”
“You respawn with your current equipment,” said the Guide. Alice breathed out in relief. “This is a save point.”
“Anything else we should know?” asked Joan.
“Hmm,” said the Guide, scratching his chin. “Hmm…let’s see now. Hmm.” He brightened. “Oh yes!” he snapped his fingers. “I know! Whatever you do, don’t drown!”
He disappeared with a bang. Golden sparks flew and his wicked laughter hung in the air like the scent of late night arseholery in a sewage plant.
“Blergh,” said Joan.
Epic went up to the edge of the air bubble and jabbed a nervous finger into the water. It went through easily and she wiggled in the water outside. She brought it back in and held up the dripping digit accusingly. “Whoever made this had a complete disregard for physics,” she said. “Are we supposed to swim to the surface? Stinkums isn’t going to like that. I don’t like that!” Her ghost sabre-tooth tiger appeared, presumably hearing her name, took once glance at the water and then disappeared to wherever ghost familiars spent their time when not with their owners. “Well I guess that’s fine for you,” Epic said to the empty air. She turned back to the rest of the group. “Surely we can’t be expected to swim all that way holding our breaths?”
“Maybe there is a potion or something?” said Fred.
Everyone looked at Joan.
“Hmm,” she said. “I don’t think there’s one in my book, that was only healing and revenge. But I’m sure one exists. I remember something...hang on.”
She lay down flat on the rock. Everyone looked at her with some concern.
“You alright there, dear?” asked Fred. She looked up at him, her face scrunched in annoyance.
“What? Oh, yes, I’m fine. I’m just listening to the seaweed.”
“Ah, it was just a matter of time,” said Hugo, sagely.
“Fuck off, Hugo,” said Joan. “My last bonus was Plant Whisperer, remember?”
“Oh.”
“So, er, what is the greenery telling you?”
“Well, if you would all shut up, I might be able to hear.”
They all watched in silence as Joan communed with the seaweed. After a few minutes she got up and dusted off her hands.
“Alright,” she said. “I don’t have a recipe for a water-breathing potion but the seaweed tells me it is an ingredient.”
“Sounds sketch,” said Alice.
“I mean you can always swim by yourself. Theoretically it’s doable. If you are a strong swimmer, perhaps.”
Alice looked up at the distant light of the sun and shuddered.
“No, thank you.”
“So, what do we do?” asked Fred. Joan laid out the ingredients of her potion making kit and looked at them considering. She snipped some of the seaweed.
“Thank you,” she told it.
“Anyone else getting Dr Frankenstein vibes?” asked Hugo. Joan ignored him, and started setting out some glass bottles and an alembic.
“Feel free to start swimming,” she said. “Fred dear, will you catch me a fish?”
“I can try,” he said, and bounded over to the water.
“Epic, can you bring me one of those… er… barnacly things?”
“This is going to be a precision job then,” said Hugo. Joan glared and he withered under the weight of her disapproval. “Can I light a fire for you?” he offered.
“Please,” said Joan. “A tiny one. I err... don’t want to use up all of our air. Or smoke us out before we are ready.”
Epic turned a delicate shade of green.
“Let’s work quickly then,” said Fred. His eyes were intent on a passing school of silver fins. He plunged his hands into the water and missed. “Drat!” This went on for a few minutes until he got lucky and managed to catch a fat blue fish that no one knew the name of.
“Would be easier with equipment,” he said, drawing himself up with dignity.
“Sure,” said Alice.
Joan thought for a bit and then combined the slippery scales, the flesh of the mollusc, some shavings of the sea weed, a dash of green pepper, a sprinkle of grated cheddar, and some sea water. She brought everything to the boil and then stirred counterclockwise six times. “Or widdershins,” she said. “Widdershins sounds better for potion making.”
“Are you just making shit up?” asked Alice, peering into her pot.
“Not exactly,” said Joan. “I’m trying to remember the recipe. But it was from another life so I can’t remember everything exactly. We had a really good witch in our party. I watched her make all sorts of things. She was Scottish. Burnt at the stake. Nice lady. Okay, it's done. Who wants to give it a go?”
The party all stared at the cooling brew. The water was murky green and rather unappetising to behold.
“I’ll go,” said Epic.
Joan handed her a beaker. She threw back the contents and grimaced. “Well,” she said, “it tastes horr-”
She turned into a mouse. But only for a minute.
“Well that was an experience,” said Epic, when she came back. “I think I’m going to sit down now, if that’s okay.”
She sat on the rock, her nose twitching gently.
“Hmm, let me keep some of that,” said Joan, “and make a note of that recipe. It could come in handy. Maybe I should leave out the cheese? I just remember there was one weird ingredient.” She clicked her fingers. “I know what it was! Condensed milk,” she said. “I knew it was something dairy.”
“How could you forget that,” said Fred, aghast. He cracked his knuckles. “Finely,” he said. “My time to shine.”
The second batch smelt amazing, like a summer day in liquid form, but it made Hugo violently sick. The third one bubbled a beautiful azure blue and smelt like salt and coconuts. Everyone eyed it suspiciously.
“I’ll go,” said Fred. He knocked back the liquid. A wide grin spread across his face.
“Well?” asked Joan.
“Tastes delicious and I am very, very happy,” said Fred.
“Ugggggggg,” said Joan, and went back to her potions.
The fourth one was nutty and brown, and made Alice grow a fluffy tail and ears.
“Eww,” she said, looking down at her twitching backside.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Hugo, considering, “some people are into that.” She punched him in the arm. Fortunately for everyone the tail only lasted a few minutes, and the ears even less.
Joan mixed and thought and muttered. She adjusted the quantities, and came up with one more. She plonked it down.
[Joan of Snark +4 Potions +2 Brewery]
This one was turquoise blue and smelt like ozone. Everyone looked at it with great distrust.
“If this doesn’t work,” said Joan, wiping her brow. “I’m giving up and we all swim.”
“I suppose it's my turn again,” said Epic. She took the glass with a wince.
She drank.
Everyone watched her intently, waiting for her to sprout horns or turn into a piglet. Nothing happened.
“Oh, not another dud,” said Joan, throwing up her arms and waving them around as she stamped. “I was sure I had it this time.”
“Hmm,” said Epic. She licked her lips. “It is tasty though. Oh no! Arrrrhhh!” She clutched her throat, her face turning purple red. She gasped, trying to speak, flapping her hands urgently.
“What’s wrong?” cried Fred, alarmed. “Joan, if you have killed Epic I’m going to be very cross.”
“No!” said Joan, running over, “it’s working! Quick! Quick! Stick your face in the water.” She shoved Epic’s headfirst into the wall of water. The smaller woman’s eyes bulged. Then she relaxed, twisting her body to give Joan an enthusiastic thumbs up.
“I can breathe!” she said, her voice muffled by the water. “It’s really weird.”
“Great,” said Joan. “Great!”
“What? I can’t hear you very well.”
“Great!” yelled Joan. She turned to the others. “Everyone got your stuff? Yes? Okay, once you are in the sea go straight up! Try and stay together! Don’t get distracted. Remember we don’t know how long it will last. Hurry!”
Everyone sipped from the ladle, and Joan hastily stowed the rest of her gear in her bag.
Fred waited. Then suddenly the air was killing him. He made a strangled noise with his throat, half laughing, half gasping. Around him everyone was doing the same. They all ran for the sea. Fred ploughed into the water, briefly wondering if anyone had noticed his elegant form, and decided they probably had other things on their mind. He hung suspended in the blue.
It was a strange experience. His brain didn’t want to accept what he knew intellectually and he was trying to hold his breath. He forced himself not to panic, and opened his mouth. Water filled it, but it was life-giving. Suddenly he could breathe. Oxygen flowed to his brain and he grinned. He tried to orientate himself. The platform was below but he couldn’t see very far, and the sea salt stung his eyes. His clothes and his pack were heavy, threatening to drag him down. Far overhead a ball of light burned. The sun. Fred kicked for the surface.
Up and up he went, the weight of the water heavy on his limbs. At least he could breathe. It would have been torture without Joan’s potion. An age, or was it only a minute later? the potion wore off. He started to choke, the water in his throat and up his nose threatening to overwhelm him. Up and up he pushed, his lungs feeling like they would burst. Nearly there. His head broke the water.
Spluttering, and spitting he expelled as much water as he could and gulped in deep, glorious lungfuls of air. The sky overhead was an intense, summer blue. A wave slapped him in the face. He blinked in the intense sunlight and as another wave slopped over him, he turned, looking for his friends. Hugo was gasping to his left, then Joan and Alice surfaced. Last was Epic, struggling with the weight of her weaponry.
[The Fredinator +2 Swimming]
[Hugo Balls +2 Swimming]
[Joan of Snark +2 Swimming]
[Alice69 +2 Swimming]
[Epic Failure +2 Swimming]
“What now?” shouted Joan. They were all rolled up and down with the swell.
“I’m really tired,” said Epic.
“Can you see anything?” shouted Fred. “Try and see if you can see land. Or anything to grab on.” For a moment panic gripped him. His shoulders were beginning to burn with the effort of staying afloat. What if there was only endless water? They were all growing weary.
Fred went up with a wave, and he rotated at the peak. There was a flash of silver in the distance.
“There!” he said, pointing, just as Alice yelled, pointed in the opposite direction. “Mermaids! On that rock!”
“An island!” said Alice. “I saw palm trees.”
“The island,” said Joan, firmly.
“Boo,” said Fred, with a grin, but he struck out towards the vivid flash of green.
To everyone’s relief it was closer than they thought and they were soon heaving themselves up across high rocks and onto solid ground. They lay panting, taking a moment to recover. Epic coughed, spitting up some water.
“Let’s not do that again,” said Hugo.
“Hopefully we won’t have to,” said Fred.
The island was not that large. Rocky around the edges, it had a mix of iron grey and malachite green rocks. They sloped up at an angle and were encrusted with barnacles, molluscs and various other small shelled creatures. Further in, the ground turned to a rich, dark red. The middle was a high, domed hill peppered with tightly packed palm trees and Fred could see coconuts in the branches. Nearby crabs scuttling over the green rocks.
At least lunch was taken care of. He stood up and stretched.
“How about some -”
The ground lurched. Fred fell over.
Water lapped and crashed against the rocks. The ground shuddered in a rippling wave that sent the surf dancing.
“Is it an earthquake?” asked Epic, looking around anxiously. She squealed as the whole place rocked in answer. The island shook and heaved. Strangely the wind picked up, blowing all of their wet hair out behind them in a wind.
“What if it’s a volcano?” asked Alice, her eyes round.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Hugo, “that hill is way too small to be a volcano.
“We’re moving,” said Joan. “Look! Look at the water! We’re leaving a wake!”
“That’s no island,” muttered Fred to himself.
“What?”
“I said, I don’t think this is an island.”
He used Identify on the hillside and to his surprise it told him they were currently seated on:
[Jasconius the Last Aspidochelone, NPC Lvl ???]
“It’s called Jasconius,” said Fred.
“What is?”
“The island.” Fred glanced down at the waves. “It's alive, whatever it is. Sentient, I assume.” Whatever Jasconius was they were now moving at speed. “And they are an NPC.”
“Neat,” said Hugo. “Do you think it's one of those massive turtles that carry a world on its back?”
“How would I know?”
“Oh,” said Epic. “Remember we saw little ones in the Worldbuilding Shop?”
“That’s all very well,” said Joan. “But where is it taking us?”
