B4 – Chapter 5: The feather scourge

Tristan reached the farming community within a few hours as the sun began to set and the fingers of night slowly clawed their way up into the sky. Several large orchards and fields spread out across the flat land, with hardened-mud fences erected to split up different plots. The road had devolved from the stone-lined, hard-packed dirt to what he expected from a countryside – a few grooves from wagon wheels in the ground the only marker of a consistent route of travel. The buildings were all single story, made of bricks that he assumed were dried-out mud that had been sunbaked, with thatch roofs.

Farmers worked the fields – mostly Demonkin, with varying shades of blue and purple skin tones, with a handful of darker red scattered amongst them. Tristan walked up to the hardened mud wall along the road as he spotted one of the Demonkin who was picking fruits from a tree close by. “Hey there!” he said, waving a hand.

The farmer looked back at him – a woman leaning toward the younger side. But, Tristan knew that Demonkin were long-lived. Eloise looked like she was in her early twenties, and yet was over four-hundred years old. He had no clue how old this Demonkin actually was. But, the farm hand smiled softly. “Eyo stranger. What can I do for you?”

Tristan unfurled the slip of paper from his hip pouch and held it up, “Got a request to deal with some beasties bother you lot. I’m here to help clear it out.”

The woman descended the ladder she was perched upon, walking over with a fruit she had just picked that was a deep, green color whose shape was that of an ear of corn, but had the smooth skin of an apple. “Well, you’d want to talk to Jerri. She’s the hag that…” her face screwed up in confusion as she searched for the right word, “She’s not our leader…but she’s like…a coordinator? Makes sure the crops get planted, deals with disputes – definitely in charge.”

Tristan nodded and furled the paper before sliding it back into his hip pouch, “Thanks-”

“You know you’re cute,” the farmhand said with a shy grin. “Been this way before?”

“I hate this bitch,” Felicity grumbled in Standard Tongue in Tristan’s ear.

Tristan shook his head, “Haven’t been this way before. But, I’m not looking for anything except this work right now. Sorry.”

The farmhand deflated but nodded, “Figured. Well, if you want a tumble, I’m in the farthest house on the main road.” She tossed the fruit to Tristan, who snatched it out of the air. As he looked at it, she giggled. “Never had it before?”

“Can’t say I have,” Tristan replied. “What is it?”

“Aplincarn,” she replied. “It’s got some sweet to it when raw, but if you cook it, it becomes a bit sour. Still good, though. Especially on top of meat! Breaks down the tougher fibers thanks to the acid.” She blushed slightly, “I…urm…I cook. If you want a meal instead of a tumble-”

“I’m good, thank you,” Tristan replied as he heard Felicity practically grinding her teeth at the very forward advances of the Demonkin woman. He took a bite of the fruit and found it to be as sweet as sugar. But, there were a lot of seeds, and he ended up shuffling those to one side of his mouth. “Thanks,” he said with a full mouth as he turned and headed down the road. Once he was sure the farmhand couldn’t see him thanks to the trees of the orchards, he spit out the seeds and handed them to Felicity, and swapped to Standard Tongue, “Into the storage space. We can try growing them when we get home.”

Felicity snatched the seeds and then rapped a knuckle on his head. “Give me a bite.”

Tristan handed her the whole entire fruit and she scarfed it down greedily. “Tasty?”

“Mhmm,” she replied. He could hear her licking her paw-claws, and felt the tiniest bit of fruit juice drip into his hair. “Now to find the Jerri lady.”

Finding the woman was not difficult as she was very hard to miss and immediately yelled at Tristan as he walked past a large, single-story house with a huge porch. She looked like a grandmother, and Tristan knew she had to be at least a thousand years old, judging from Eloise’s age to her appearance and making an educated guess.

“Hey! You here from Lockwood?”

Tristan turned and approached her, stopping a few feet from the porch. “I am. Marius Lestrange, at your service.” He grabbed the paper and held it up, “Got a request to deal with some-”

“Yeah! Of course you do! Perfect timing, too.” She pointed up to the now-gone sun on the horizon. “The things come out at night. No clue what they are, but the howls are terrifying. Do your job and clear them out!”

Felicity sighed into his ear, “She’s such an old hag. So rude.”

Tristan silently agreed with Felicity, and addressed Jerri. “Do you have any place that’s a bit higher up I can get a good view from? Lots of trees in these orchards are going to block my vision.”

The woman shook her head, “Nope.”

Tristan lowered his voice to a whisper, “Felicity, mind doing the scouting from above?”

“On it!” she flew off.

Tristan dipped his head, “I’ll come back once I’ve dealt with whatever it is to get your signature.”

“Yeah, yeah. And the money, I’m sure.”

Tristan shook his head, “No. I’m not in this for a reward. Just trying to build up a reputation.”

The woman looked honestly taken aback at that, “What’s this? You’re not a guard – you don’t have the livery. Mercenary? And you don’t fight for coin?”

“Just trying to build my reputation,” Tristan replied. “If these things come out at night, you should probably head inside.”

“Oh, I was about to. What did you say your name was?”

“Marius Lestrange.”

The landscape settled down to a near-quiet, as only the buzzing and chirping of insects and small animals that lived in and roamed about the fertile croplands made their noises. Tristan had his sword out, and was walking along the main road, doing a miniature patrol, until Felicity came flying down and landed on his head. “What did you see?” he asked her in the Standard Tongue.

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She tugged on his hair, prodding him to turn to his left. “Past the orchard here. I saw a group of weird animals coming out of burrows in the plains beyond. They were covered in feathers! Like…bird-dogs?”

Tristan made his way down the rows of trees, keeping his ears peeled for any signs of out-of-the-norm activity. The bugs had gone quiet, and the skittering had ceased. “Felicity,” he whispered, “get some height and be overwatch.” He spun his crucible and activated the full suite of spells in his armor.