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Mortal Nature

By Felsune

The sun rose, and with it Iksa, pushing herself back into the familiar pattern she had lived for so long. Out into the back and over to the well. The bowl still lay in the dirt, and it was covered in dust as well as flies. Iksa grimaced but she picked it up none the less and set it to the side before drawing up some water in the bucket. She would get to washing the bowl later, for now, it was important to wash herself. She had learned, from listening at the tavern in town, that many adventurers had started to pick up bathing as the scent of sweat and grime could actually alert some monsters if they relied on scent to hunt.

{You really don't need to worry about that anymore.}

She paused, right, it was still there. [Worry about what?]

{Your scent. You don't sweat. I am, more or less, all of your liquids now. I removed some of the less useful functions of your body when I made it my home. It should increase your operating efficiency.}

Okay, right, that was...nope, nope! [What did you remove?!]

{Waste production, fluid loss through secretion of the skin, and oral cavity, blood, and a few other strange things that seemed to be in your body.}

It took her a moment to really...figure that one out. What did he, it, whatever, mean by...no way. She poked a finger in her mouth and found it dry, mostly. It still seemed...soft and smooth? But not all slippery and slimy like normal.

{It isn't meant to dry out, I just replaced it.}

Right, creepy. As for the others, that meant...she didn't...have to use the restroom? She shuddered, finding that both useful, and really horrifying. It was useful in that nothing was more awkward, or risky, than having to step from camp or pause mid dungeon to use the restroom. But on the other hand, that meant the ooze had been in some very private areas!

{Technically, I am in all of you. I don't think privacy is really a concept for you and me anymore. It isn't as if I can hide anything from you either. This works both ways you know.}

Actually, she hadn't known that, okay, so aside from giving her the heebie-jeebies, this was super invasive for them both. Still, bathing would help her get rid of dirt and such, if not scent. And she wanted a nice hot bath, not the normal cold water dip that left her shivering! So she got the water out, and began to fill the barrel, made with some sort of smooth pottery stuff, she wasn't actually sure what it was, and kindled the fireplace, building a fire-hut and lining it with tinder. Once that was complete, she struck her flint and steel together, getting a few sparks from the worn flint, and gently blowing on the embers.

Once the fire had started to move into the house and settle into the place, Iska moved back to the well, pulling up a bit more water to wash the bowl out with and leave it to dry in the warm sun. The water would take a bit to heat up enough to be nice for bathing, and there was time to get breakfast ready. Moving into the kitchen she began to pull out the ingredients left over from the day before, the last of the eggs and bread, along with a few precious strips of bacon. Starting the second fire today, she placed a single metal plate over the brick oven, and got to work.

Two slices of bread slathered with butter and placed on the sheet to toast, while at the other end she lay down her precious meaty slabs of bacon. The eggs she cracked on the side and plopped into the center. Of course, being a bit new to her body's state of new weight, she pressed to hard on the egg shell. Causing a few bits of shell to drop into the clear parts of the egg. Cursing herself, she took the remaining shell and tried to scrape the bits out of the clear stuff! Nothing was worse, for eggs, than the shells. Jagged little bits of nasty that could hurt if they got into the gums!

By the time she had managed to pull it out and toss it to the side, the clear parts where hardening and turning white. Which was good, since her taste in eggs were more towards the less messy style of over hard. That was another thing she'd picked up from her time working as an Adventurer. The less messy your food was, the better the chance of having to leave it if things got dicey. For example, if something attacked your camp while you were eating, it took almost no effort to shovel the food into your mouth and grab a weapon, if it was all a solid meal.

While a runny egg might slip from your fingers, or even leave your fingers to greasy to hold a weapon! Not that it really mattered to her, since she just hit things with her hands. But, it was a habit she had gotten into and didn't plan to drop any time soon. Even with her sister cured, hopefully, she wasn't going to take the risk of stopping adventuring. She'd do small stuff, nothing that would raise her level much, but it would put food on the table. And speaking of putting food on the table, she filled her plate, and the second plate, with the freshly cooked food, and put out the fire, setting the dishes to the side for cleaning later.

Her mind was wrapped up in thoughts of the future, as she sat down, thoughts of the past; where things were going to go now that she had accomplished her major life goal, when she got a surprise. A hand on her shoulder had her launching herself away, flipping her chair over as she dove and came up with fists raised, ready to attack. Only the expression of her sister's shocked face brought her up short. Iska placed a hand over her face and laughed, she couldn't help it, the situation was just so...stupid. She had to lean against the counter as it all just settled in.

"Sorry Tem, it's just a habit. I didn't think or expect to see you up for a bit yet still, so I...so I just kinda thought of myself as..."

"Alone?" Temerra spoke a bit sadly, but she smiled still, even if just a little, and moved forward, and wrapped her arms around Iska's muscled frame. "It's okay, I can't begin to guess at what you endured out there, and I am just glad you don't have to put up with it anymore."

Iska hugged her smaller sister and blew out a breath, this was the part she was really, really, not looking forward to. "Come on kiddo, you know that it won't be that simple or easy. I still have to put food on the table."

And, just as she knew would happen, Temerra stiffened and pushed back, keeping her hands gripped onto Iska's shoulders. "That's bullshit and you know it! You can be a farmer or something now! We don't need that much money anymore, you don't have to risk yourself! You can live a normal life!" Her face was fierce now, the soft features sharpened with worry and anger.

As for Iska, well, her jaw dropped when Temerra swore! That sweet little mouth of her sister's uttering such foul language?! She shook her head, as if shaking off a blow to the temple, and couldn't help at the grimace that came from the next line of logic from her sister. It wasn't as if she hadn't thought of it before, but she just wasn't cut out for a normal life! The idea of farming bored her to tears, and any normal mundane job just drove her stir crazy! Not to mention, with the monster living under her very skin, she seriously doubted her life would ever be 'normal' again.

"Oh come off it Tem, you know I can't do that. Look, I promise to stick to simple jobs, nothing risky! Just small time stuff, things that won't even take me more than a few days at most, low pay jobs, safe jobs. But you know I can't stand being cooped up in some shitty little dead end job!" She hoped that her words would end the fight then and there, letting her sister see it from her perspective. But, she really misjudged how much fear and anger had been building up in her sister over the years. All that time helplessly worrying. Alone.

"Do not try and use the same excuse you gave mum when she was around...you may not like it, but you can live a normal life! We can take care of the fields together, we can finally be together, and live a safe life. No more of me waiting at home and praying you make it back this time! Or watching you come home with bits and pieces missing! I put up with it when you were doing it for my sake, but if you do it now you're just doing it for your own selfish desires! What about my desires? I know you've done everything for me...but you can't lie to me and say it was all for me!"

She stepped back, lifting a hand and pointing an accusing finger at Iska, "You LIKE fighting! You always have, even as a kid. You used me as an excuse...when someone 'insulted' me, when someone did anything you didn't like, you always went for your fists first! Were you even doing this for my sake to begin with, or was my sickness a blessing to you? Just an excuse to put your fists to work again?!"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Temerra turned pale, knowing she'd crossed a line, but refusing to step back. Sticking her chin out defiantly, demandingly. And that just made it all the worse for Iska, as rage swept through her. A growl crawling from her lips like a venomous sludge, dripping to the floor as she raised a hand, formed a fist, and slammed it into the counter. A crunch shattering the air as the wood gave under her hand, leaving a splintered dent in the wood.

"Don't...you ever dare say that to my face again." She spoke with a shuddering breath, raising a hand up, not even caring that she had just SPLINTERED wood with her bare hand! "Every second I was out there, I did everything I could, just for you. You think I enjoy fighting? You're right. I get that from dad. And like dad, I found an outlet, but I never, NEVER, once put myself ahead of this family. I never once took a job I felt was going to be fun, only jobs I knew would bring in enough coin to feed us. To pay for your medicine!"

By this point, both had raised their voices, and neither could really hear anything outside. Not the sound of horses, the thud of hooves on dirt, the whicker of the great beasts, or the clink of metal on metal. And as their argument got more and more heated, tempers began to reach peak point, and Iska felt the boiling in her blood, the need to beat her fists into something. Punch until blood flowed from split knuckle flesh. And when someone slammed their fists against the door, she had to pause for a moment and figure out if it was her own heart, or something outside that was making the noise.

Temerra shook a finger at her, "This isn't over..." And she whirled around, showing off just how effective the high level healing herbs were, and made her way to the door. She wore her normal plain homespun dress, a sunflower yellow, with her long brown hair braided down her back. And of course, being as pissed as Iska was, she wasn't even looking at the door, more intent on just keeping herself calm enough to deal with whatever nosey neighbor had come to pester them.

At first it was just muffled voices, as she took several deep breaths, but as the sound of heavy footsteps on solid wood resounded in the small space, she whirled around. Her sister wore soft leather shoes, not metal! And sure enough, standing, well towering, over her was an adventurer who had the gear of at least a Wood level adventurer! Which, technically, was the same level as her now. She'd been a Paper Adventurer before, being only level one. But being over level five, meant she was now technically Wood rank.

Ranks went from One to Four (1-4) being known as Paper, because of the amount of paper work it took to document them, and how much survivability they had in the wild. From Five to Nine (5-9) they were known as Wood or Wooden rank, due to the fact they were still common, but a bit more durable. These people were known in their general area. They had a chance to survive in the world of the Adventurer now. From Ten to Fourteen, they were known as Iron Rank, for their hardy disposition and ability to survive a lot of things. They were generally well respected and well known, even in surrounding countrysides. Fifteen to nineteen (15-19) were known as Steel ranked for their tempered skills and vast experience. These people were known in their country of origin and around all over. It was almost impossible to not have heard their name.

Then there was the fabled rank, level Twenty. This rank was known as Mithril, for they were neigh unkillable, known worldwide, and feared as much as they were respected. In the world, there were only Ten Mithril level adventurers, two per country.

And while she was currently considered to be a Wooden rank, she had the gear of a mere Paper rank, which left her at a severe disadvantage. Wait, why was she thinking of this in the form of combat? These were fellow adventurers! But, they seemed to be outlined in...red? Why was he covered in a red haze?

{That's one of my abilities. I can sense Killing intent, blood lust, etc. from things. I can sense if from anything that holds such an aura. Whether it be alive, or merely hold the traces of such a person's strong feelings. He is looking for a fight. Spoiling for one almost as badly as you are.}

Useful...but why was he looking for a fight here?! "What do you want?" Okay, not the most diplomatic, but she was not in the mood for this. Well, that was a lie, she was exactly in the mood for this, and that was the problem.

"The Dungeon is dead. We want whatever it was that you found in there. We want the Heart. And if that's gone, the money."

A dungeon only 'died' when it was no longer able to produce anything of value. Whether it be magical items or monsters. And when it died, it was always because someone found the Heart and took it. The Heart being whatever made the place a Dungeon. A Monster Artifact, something that spawned monsters or allowed them to multiply, or some great Magical Artifact. It was considered a great taboo to take a Dungeon's Heart since that made it impossible for anyone else to farm the Dungeon and cut off a resource for the area.

The only time a Dungeon's Heart was allowed to be taken, was when countries were at war. And usually, they were ransomed back, so that the dungeon could be revived. Of course, technically, she had taken the Dungeon's Heart, but that wasn't exactly something she had chosen. Nor was it something she could give back.

"Look, I didn't take the Dungeon's Heart, it sort of...forced itself upon me. And I can't give it back, I'd die without it. If you want the money, go grind for it yourself. I suffered for that money, and you can work for your own. Considering your level, I'm sure you can grind a few good missions and make the same money I did in a single forty eight hour day! It was a low level dungeon that was dying anyway!"

She knew she wasn't helping, but she was not in the mood for this shit right now. Plus, diplomacy had never been her best quality in the first place. Definitely not a strong suit. And something about the guy just rubbed her the wrong way. The look of contempt on his face, as if she were a Paper who'd dared to spit on his shoes or something.

Of course, what came next was a complete surprise to her, even if she probably should have expected it. The mailed figured grabbed her by the shirt, and twisted around. Using his own strength, as well as kicking her in the ankle, to trip her as he tossed her out the door. He probably hadn't expected her new weight, which was why she had went through the door rather than just slammed into it. What had probably been meant as an intimidation tactic, instead ended up with her sprawling in the dirt, her shirt partially torn at the collar, looking up at two rather surprised people. One a male in chainmail with a Symbol on a necklace. The other a woman wearing leather with two daggers on her hips and a shortbow on her back with a single quiver.

The male stepped out of the house, and looked down at her, the contempt radiating from his tone, "It doesn't matter how much you suffered. You broke a rule, and that makes you fair game. If you understand, then hurry up and make amends, or pay up. Don't worry, once you do, we will let the guild know, eventually." His tone...that smirk...it was all too much. She felt her thin strain of patience simply snap.