Call of the Abyss [Book 2 Complete]

Ravina stood staring at the door, waiting—nothing. She rapped her knuckles against it for the third time, and waited…again, nothing.

Breathing in slowly and steadily, she closed her eyes—this wasn't necessary, but it often helped her focus. Her Skill: Life Sense was more a new, additional sense, but it was derived from her other, main senses, so shutting her eyes (since she couldn't see Drego anyway) helped to bring the others into focus.

Exhaling slowly, she felt the very gentle breeze blow over her shoulders, felt it swoop in under the door in front of her. She heard the distant chirps and wingbeats of all manner of animals and insects. She smelt the scents of the forest, the scent of mint—mint and tea—coming in strongly from under and around the door.

She heard the gentle clinking of a spoon against a dish—a teacup, probably. She felt the minute difference in temperature in the air. It was heated after passing over both the tea, and the person stirring it—found him.

"Come the fuck on, Drego! I know yer in there! I can smell yer damn mint tea from out here!" she shouted.

Suddenly, the door flew open much faster than she'd anticipated. Before her stood a man not much taller than she, though his stooping posture could belie additional height.

He had gray eyes beneath bushy, white eyebrows. His hair was long and white, though it was tied in a neat, tight bun atop his head. He had a rictus scowl that seemed permanently etched into his sagging face, the wrinkles around his eyes and at the corner of his lips seeming deep crevices due to how much his skin drooped.

He wore a simple brown robe that seemed likely to be made from materials one would pick up off the ground in this very forest. He clutched a walking stick that appeared more branch than staff—it even had small buds growing on the branches that splayed out at the top.

"It is rude to use one's Skills on another without consent," he said bluntly, his voice sounding less like the old wizard his appearance suggested and more like a bank teller—quick and precise, with little inflection.

"It's rude to leave guests standing at the door," Ravina clapped back.

"Uninvited guest, intruder, or invader, none are subject to the rules of hospitality,:" he said flatly, attempting to shut the door.

"Wait—" Ravina exclaimed as she jammed her foot in the door. "I just wanna talk!"

"I do not," he said, opening the door and closing it—hard—on her foot, over and over again.

"I just—ow—can we just sit down—OW!" she yelled, growing increasingly frustrated.

"No," he said, now attempting to stomp the top of her boot in addition to slamming the side with the door.

"OW! Just hear me out and I'll leave!" Ravina pleaded.

Suddenly, the door opened fully, and Drego nearly vanished. He seemed to move extremely quickly and precisely. One might expect that when maneuvering around one's own home, but the warrior in Ravina couldn't help being impressed by his precision.

"I accept your proposal. Speak, and then leave," he said, sitting down at a small table in front of a large hearth. There was a tea setting in front of him—presumably where he was sitting when Ravina knocked.

Curiously, within the hearth behind him was a large root vegetable of some kind—it must be as large as Ravina's head—that was glowing an orange-yellow. She wondered if it was also giving off heat, but she shook her head and, closing the door behind her, wandered into the small home.

Her initial estimates about its dimensions appeared correct, as she suspected from end to end, she could take perhaps six or seven steps. The interior seemed precisely and meticulously curated.

The feet of the coat rack by the door perfectly aligned with the curve of the wall, the books on the shelf occupying the exact amount of space the shelf provided, the dishes in the cabinets she could see perfectly placed, with teacup handles facing the same direction.Everything had and was in its place.

She sat at the table with Drego and noticed the same situation as the cottage itself: wood that was a mixture of different pieces and colors.

"Does this wood come from a special type of tree? It seems to be of several different types, but that doesn't—" Ravina started.

"It is wood from dead trees or limbs that fell from the living. I do not harvest resources from the living. I also do not make small talk with intruders. Speak your piece, please," he said, stirring his tea.

"Haa…" Ravina sighed, trying to keep her temper under control. "I'm recruitin' and requestin' aid for a campaign against vile undead that threaten a marsh about 500 journeys t' the north of—"

"No thank you. Please leave," Drego said, sipping from his tea.

"...ya don't wanna hear the rest of the appeal?" Ravina asked in befuddlement. She thought she had actually made some headway.

"No. I am retired. Please leave," he said with certainty that was beginning to irritate Ravina.

"This mission is sanctioned by the Founder himself. We—" she started again.

"No thank you. I am retired. No Guild leverage will convince me, as I am retired from it. Please leave," he said.

"...do ya not care that an entire people're bein' eradicated by undead? Surely ya became an adventurer to do something important! T' make a difference!" she said with heat.

"I did important things. I gave hundreds of years of my life to doing things that matter. Is that not enough? I am retired now. No thank you. Please leave," he explained.

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His voice was still relatively flat, but he was now tapping the table with the index finger of his right hand, so he was clearly becoming incensed. Perhaps Ravina could get through to him. Anger was just one step away from passion, after all.

"So, that's it? Ya did yer time, and now you'll look away from any and all tragedies? People just need t' take care a themselves? Is that what yer sayin'?" Ravina goaded.

Drego winced and pulled some strange contraption of bent twigs out of the shawl of his robe. He slid it up his head and stuck each end of the bent branch into both his ears.

"I aided the world. For centuries. Am I to be called out of retirement for every single crisis? Is that what being an adventurer means, never resting? Never knowing peace? No, I reject that notion. It is foolish and self-centered.

"Shepherding the future is what current adventurers do. I, however, am retired. Please leave," he said, his scowl deepening, and some heat creeping into his voice.

Ravina stood, both in agitation at being called foolish, and to try and get something—anything—from him.

"This crisis is no—" she started, but the house began to creak ominously around her.

"Five times I have asked you to leave. This is my final time asking. Please. Leave," he said with finality, and the creaking around the house grew louder.

The house seemed to get smaller, as though it were leaning down to glare at her. Recognizing that no more could be accomplished here—at least right now—she scoffed, spun around, and stormed out of the cottage.

Out in the clearing, she took a deep breath to clear her emotions. How could he be so stubborn? She couldn't even reexamine that conversation—if you could call it that—to figure out how to change tactics. It was pissing her off just thinking about it.

She stormed away from the clearing, stomping through the forest toward their camp. She looked this way and that and eventually spied Sith lounging on a branch a few strides ahead of her. She seemed to be having the time of her life, lounging in the shade, munching on a…whatever that fruit in her hand was—something she picked up in the forest?

She glanced over at Ravina and smiled her trademark smile, mouthing, "Doomed," before vanishing in a puff of black mist. The fruit she'd taken a bite out of falling to the forest floor and rapidly rotting away, until nothing but a sickly brown core remained.

Great. Sith wasn't going to be any help here, apparently.

Ravina thumped back to camp, which was mostly set up by this point. She passed through the throngs of intoxicated adventurers—somehow already heavily drunk, despite only a couple hours having passed since they stopped their run—already making for her own tent. She was prepared to set it up herself, but she had a suspicion Mondan would have done it for her.

The man acted like she hadn't spent half her life roughing it in the wilderness. She could set her own damn tent up. And, even more, she wasn't sure she wanted people rifling around through her things, least of all when she wasn't present.

It was with these minor frustrations bubbling atop her already-simmering anger at her failure to recruit Drego that she ran into Reandan—literally.

Ravina bounced back, avoiding the ale that came raining down, as though aiming specifically for her boots. Fortunately (or unfortunately), this was not her first time having to avoid an adventurer sloshing swill, and she was something of a professional when it came to keeping her equipment free of alcohol smells.

"Oof—sorry, boss. Didn't see ya there," Reandan—the smelly feet guy from before—apologized.

"Steady on, Reandan. Yer pupils'r liable to start floatin' if ya don't slow it down," she joked.

"Now, ya can insult ma looks or intelligence any ya like, but I'll not stand for ya lookin' down on ma tolerance fer ale!" he laughed.

Ravina just shook her head and sighed, a small smile threatening the corner of her lips.

"Heya, boss…me an' some'a tha boys was thinkin'..." he said quietly, leaning toward Ravina such that she had to breathe through her mouth to avoid his rancid breath.

"Surely yer…uh…assistant? Surely she were exaggeratin' 'bout them numbers, huh? It ain't liable to be hundreds'a thousands of undead, right?" he said with sobriety that suggested he could hold his liquor well.

Ravina noted that many of the adventurers shuffling by had slowed their paces, doing their best to pretend not to be listening. It was a sad attempt, she thought, probably not helped by the fact that a good portion of them were at least mildly intoxicated.

"I don't rightly know their numbers, but Sith ain't got no reason to lie, and she's got information 'bout nearly anything ya can imagine, so I'd wager her guess is pretty sound," Ravina said flatly.

Much as it chagrined her to admit, Sith was right that it wouldn't do to sugarcoat. These people needed to know what they were up against so that they could prepare—mentally and physically.

The surroundings quieted noticeably, with even the people attempting to give no indication they were listening dropping the pretense and staring. Nervous looks were being exchanged, fear and uncertainty likely being heightened by the layer of inebriation coating the adventurers' minds.

"Hundreds'a…but, boss…we can't fight that many…we can't win against those numbers! Them're hundreds-to-one odds! I ain't never been so foolish ta throw ma dice with odds that bleak!" Reandan exclaimed, becoming increasingly hysterical.

His pupils had dilated, his breathing quickened, and the fingers tightly gripping his flagon had gone white. Ravina's instincts for noticing her opponents' mental states latched onto these details. Of course, after having to deal with Drego, she now had to deal with adventurers—who should be battle-hardened, at their age—getting cold feet.

"Aye, I ain't gonna pretend it's good. Don't forget that all a you are here 'cause you wanna be. I ain't drag none'a ya from yer comfortable beds, with yer silk sheets and plush pillows!" Ravina yelled, raising her voice to be heard by everyone nearby.

Her frustrations were beginning to boil over, and she couldn't seem to stop them.

"Y'all're here 'cause ya wanted to be part of something greater than whatever rotting ya were doin' in Durthangrim!

"Y'all're here because you wanted to help people! Ya wanted to do something that matters! Ya wanted to become stronger from it so's ya could make a difference when ya get back home!" she shouted, pointing to the adventurers around her.

Silence pervaded, most looking at the ground. Some gave her firm looks and nods, but most seemed to be gripped by indecision and fear.

Likely, they agreed with her words in principle, but the idea of putting your life on the line was much easier to face than the reality of it.

"But…boss," Reandan said rather meekly, "We gotta survive—we gotta come back alive ta be able ta help back home…"

Ravina suddenly gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him in close so that they were eye-to-eye.

"Ya ain't never gonna get stronger 'less ya take the first step. Drink yer fill tonight, and shake the cowardice from yer quakin' knees.

"Tomorrow, we're movin' out, and we're fightin' the undead with or without ya. Cowards who won't fight when the need's greatest wouldn't be able ta help anyway," she said firmly before releasing his collar and stalking off toward her tent.

"Ma'am, maybe we should—" Mondan, who appeared seemingly from nowhere, started to say as she passed, but she didn't even give him the time of day.

She didn't look back, and thus, she didn't notice the looks exchanged between those that remained. She couldn't feel the temperature change in the group behind her.