Why didn’t anyone tell me…

Elar was brought out of his sleep today as so many others in profound silence. He had long since moved from the villiage of cotswold. The terrible strangeness of this land was a persistent wrankle to him. He was never satisfied with his experiences and any story he could formulate to explain it away. But he lived in this place and he got along. Elar had learned to rely on his guild for protection and for the only constants in this strange place. Over the time since he awoke that first day, he had discovered how things worked here. He had found friends of sorts. But he wanted to know why his soul longed to reject this place as an absurdity. His first guild had slowly transformed into a new guild, and they were good to each other, travelling in packs so they could accomplish things more easily. They now had a standing apointment to gather every evening. During the morning hours Elar was free to travel and do as he pleased. This usually meant that he would set out in search of food. For a time there were merchants that sold a variety of foods near the housing areas, and he ate them greedily. The thing he wanted more than anything in the world was a roast beef on rye. He could see it in his sleep sometimes, waking again in this place with the taste still on his tongue. But there were no cows here. He had found pigs and even poultry, but taking them had meant starting a feud with the farmers until he started killing the local giants for them. So pork had to come from deep in the southwest or from animals he killed travelling. Wheat came from the plains south of the bridge to camelot. The animals there had learned not to bother him, and he in turn kept his attention on the wild wheat that grew so fast there and the occasional large fowl.
Today he was going to help a guildmate that said he needed help with a young friend in Aldland, far to the northwest. Elar had only occasionally been to the Shrouded Isles of Albion, as so much there seemed to be corrupt and unwholesome. The docks were infested with flies and frequently fights and duels broke out in town, even among close friends.
He took the portal from Cotswold and arrived in Caer Gothwaite, where he was met with The Smell. He was reminded of the small blue thread he’d tied on his staff, which was supposed to remind him to plug his nose before arriving in Gothwaite again. The Smell was a terrible but standard dockside smell, only as there was no appreciable breeze to move the smells along, it distilled to something you could clearly taste. In addition to the normal human stinks, there was the smell of still bilge water, the bodies of the 4 foot flies rotting on the ground, the stench of lakebed at low tide. The well worn ramp to the castle put only a slight distance between The Smell and Elar, replacing it with the kennel and stable smell that accompanies enclosed castle life.
He noticed the guards at the entrance to the castle and wondered out loud, “Who’d want this place?” But as he approached the idle and swaying guard squadron, he wondered what this guard might have been like before everyone went still. For this is what he called this condition now. People had apparently been mostly normal until the moment of change, and then they just Went Still, swaying to some unseen rhythm. Elar realized he had himself paused for possibly a full minute. “Somehow I don’t think it’s the same.”
Elar moved rapidly from the front gate and took the horse from there to Caer Diogel which was a good 2 hour ride. He had long sinse stopped speaking to the vendors, as it never yet helped.
The horse knew the way, so Elar let his mind wander. Elar had overheard many shouted conversations in the time since his waking, and there were occasional things that pulled familiar strings in his mind. Mentions of baseball seemed to reach something within him. Something in the music played in Camelot brought memories of music he knew he had heard, but not in this strange Albion place. Some places invoked snatches of childhood memories, such as the deep forest of Campacorentin. He came on a hill in the forest that gave him a glimpse of himself much smaller, seeing a hill of much the same size and shape at sunset, and there were adults there. He tried to summon more of these flashes of memory while he rode, but in the end nothing came. As he arrived at Caer Diogel, he returned to the present reluctantly. He chided himself for being in so deep and muttered, “I have to get more sleep.”
People arrived soon after Elar and they set out on foot to the southwest through the hills. With him were Valeur, a paladin, Balor, an armsman, Mikuel the mercenary, Silae the minstrel, the wizard Dedith, and Avelina the cleric.
“were totally tank heavy”
“that’s spelled – We’re”
“shutup”
The land was hilly and somewhat green, covered with a dense fog that obsured the sky. There were eerie floating blue fireballs that idled under the trees and gave the place an entirely cold look. A couple young people had their weapons out and a wizard was hurling fire and dirt at one of the iceballs, setting fire to the trees above in his carelessness. As one of the men fell, the wizard turned and sprinted into the trees. Elar’s party fell silent as they watched the second man fight for another thirty seconds before he too fell to unseen blows from the blue burning sphere. Elar’s party was some 40 yards away and could not have helped, but the others chuckled at the end. “leave the lowbies to their work. at least it’s a short run.” But Elar was uncomfortable with the omen.
They walked on and came to the coastline. Turning into the sun, they walked a few more minutes until they came in sight of a number of small huts that appeared to have been built on the sandy shoreline. The buildings were approximately round, and people could be seen inside. They too swayed in the same way as the villiagers do. There was no speaking and no noise of children. It seemed so wrong that Elar remarked on it to the others. “vikings make good exp” was all the reply he got.
They set up in the middle of a sandy area near the hill, clearly in sight of patrols and the buildings nearby. The first patroll came after them when they started a fire and were preparing for the coming fights. The minstrel started to play a song, which immediately put the patroller to sleep where he stood, his eyes unfocusing while he staggered to a stop. Then the others surrounded him and tried to cut him down, but the viking would not drop. After a few moments, he reawoke, bleeding profusely and half his clothing soaked in his own blood. It took another ten seconds or more of steady hacking and spell damage from the group before he fell. But the patrolman had been so busy he did not call out. The others had not been alerted yet, which comforted Elar only a little. How do they survive such abuse and still live?
They finished their preparations and cleaned their weapons. Elar checked his staff and quickly tried to remember the list of healing spells that he had been learning. The group indicated that they were ready for the next fight. “rdy”, “go” came from the others.
“inc” said the armsman Balor, tromping away in his plate armor. It was astounding the amount of noise that metal could make.
He ran off about 20 paces toward one of the circular huts, passed into the door, and there was a great sound as if someone had hit a water balloon with a paddle. There were four shouts of people shouting over each other to be heard, and Balor came out at a full sprint, across the gap to the next house, and into their door. There was another great splatting sound, and Balor charged back toward the rest of the group with some ten of the vikings in tow. Two of them had bloody noses and obviously broken ribs. “That explains the sound I guess,” thought Elar.
As Balor arrived, he spun around and pulled out his great two handed hammer, dropping the shield on the ground. The first viking to arrive was struck stoutly in the sternum, sending it reeling backward to the ground. The hammer hit the ground and stayed there a moment. Then a full second. Elar hit the third viking, a woman, in the knees so she fell to the ground. He looked back at Balor who was still standing there with the hammer on the ground. “What are you doing?!” he yelled, trying to see if the armsman had been stunned.
“itsgot a 7 second swing time. im on this one.” There was another viking standing in front of him, punching his breastplate to no visible effect.
Elar cracked the woman on the spine sharply, which clearly did little to her. The rest of the group by now was busy with the remainder of the vikings. The minstrel again had not one viking asleep, but five. They were all standing, staring slightly upward toward the fog. One of them waved a hand lazily in front of him as if trying to catch a butterfly. Avelina was running in circles, yelling “ON ME SAVE YOUR HEALER”, over and over, leading both vikings and the mercenary Mikuel in a circle, Mikuel shouting “hold the hell still so i can catch them”. On their next pass, Elar managed to bring his staff down over the head of the first viking and swiped at the second viking, but he missed his balance and toppled to the sand.
It was then that Elar discovered his true danger. The staff had slipped just out of his hand during the fall. The viking he had missed turned in an instant upon him.
“BUY V|AG4R4 NO\/\/ !!! EN|4rG3meNt p||LZ” he whispered, as he punched Elar. Elar was so stunned, he didn’t roll or dodge at all, and caught the full blow in the belly. It doubled him over on the ground, and he rolled on his left side, stars coming into his eyes.
“FREE H0T M1DG4ARD G|rl 0n G|RL W3BC4MZ” whispered the viking as he struck from above, hitting Elar in the kidneys. It felt like the blow went all the way to his backbone. It was then the armsman jumped behind the viking and swung from over his own head, striking the viking at the base of the neck. There was a great cracking sound like the breaking of a rock and the viking went limp. Elar rolled fully over once, picking up his staff as he did, and stopped rolling so he could see the armsman and the limp-but-standing viking. Again, the armsman stood there with the hammer still poised on the neck of the viking, not moving. He looked around at the five other mezmerized vikings, his face anxious and biting his lip. He looked back at the viking he had hit so hard and watched as the blood slowly started to come out its nose and ears.
“d**n this hammer if it didnt hit so hard id totally spec slash”
“will you hurry up, they’ll wake up any second” said Mikuel, already slashing two great rents into another viking.
“you think youre so funny”
“lol”
Finally, he lifted the hammer over his head a second time and hit the viking in the same place again, squarely in the neck. This time, there was a grinding sound of bone on bone and the viking shot to the ground immediately, the neck bent forward at a truly disgusting angle.
“What the…” said Elar, to nobody in particular. By now Mikuel had finished with his viking and charged into the crowd of five sleepers, slashing one across the back of the thighs with both his short swords. The viking immediately awoke shouting, “h00t3rz 4u!” and spun to face Mikuel. The viking could no longer walk, but shambled toward Mikuel to get better reach on his punches.
“CTXT WILL IPO TOMORROW SET YOUR WATCHES FOR EARLY AND RIDE THE PROFITS” roared the viking in an announcers boom.
“ON ME SAVE YOUR HEALER” came from behind Elar again, and there, sure enough, was another viking woman, chasing Avelina in another loose circle. Elar noticed the extra joint in Avelina’s arm, stood up, and performed the healing spell he had just perfected yesterday. It came off beautifully and the arm straightened. But the viking was close. Elar took a moment to perform the same spell on himself and then headed to cut off the viking’s circle. He swung at the viking, trying to get its attention.
“these things just will not go down!” said Silae. Elar struck the viking in the body. Immediately the viking was on him, “Bill Gates will donate $2 to your favorite charity for every copy of this email you forward. Click below to choo….” There was a red flash and the viking was cut off in mid sentence. Elar got in a sound strike to the viking’s throat. It was as if nothing had happened. He wound up again, hitting the exact same place. The viking wobbled slightly backward, but was still not going down. It took two more strikes to the throat before the viking’s neck finally broke, sending him to the ground.
“one more” said the wizard, pointing at the last of the sleepers. Valeur had his two handed sword out and had arrived first. He stood next to the last viking and swung the great blade in a long sweeping motion, and missed. The sword came to rest in the ground to his left. He looked at it and cursed. “i am so respeccing”. At that moment, the viking awoke with a shout of, “R O l e x replicAS!” Valuer took a punch to the helmet that crumpled one of the cheekguards. Mikeul arrived at that moment and slashed across the back of the viking, leaving two streams of blood in the air.
Balor, now bleeding from under the helmet, looked down at his hammer and growled like a bear, but did not swing. “any time now…” he said.
Dedith finally saw his time had come, and laid into his work. There were three near simultaneous balls of fire that struck the viking, and then two more explosions that hit under its feet. The viking was singed and his clothing caught fire immediately. Mikuel was coated in soot, but fought on as if nothing happened. There was another great slash across the viking’s torso, sending entrails toppling down to the sand in disgusting plops. But the viking did not slow. “wait!” shouted Mikuel, over his shoulder. But it was too late. There was another great explosion at the viking’s feet.
It was as if in slow motion that Elar saw the freshly spilled entrails of the viking take flight. Mikuel caught a significant portion of the gore in the face and body, but everyone else was sprayed more or less evenly by the mess. Then the armsman got in another great strike with his two handed hammer, sending the viking to his knees. The minstrel yelled, “Muad’ib!” in a commanding voice, and the viking finally toppled, still burning.
Elar spit charred material from his mouth and looked around. The houses were already full again, as if the armsman had not just run in and brought out anyone. They did not seem to be interested in the sounds and mess that existed outside their tents. They stood and swayed.
“well tht was close” said Avelina.
Elar asked, “What is this place? Where do they come from?”
“who knows, but there sure are a lot of em”