A sunny day in the ol' Hamlet. A sunny day that was being missed by the local sentient slime. Needling little sleep, Penumbra spent most nights rearranging the cellar they inhabited. Once, when the hut was still new and full of life, the cellar would’ve been a safe space for whoever lived there. The trap door, the only way in, was made out of metal while everything else was stone-built. A peculiar thing to have installed in a hut in the middle of the forest but nonetheless it was that, combined with the seclusion it offered that made Penumbra choose this hut in the first place.

The cellar was big, about 5 metres wide and 6 in length and it was full of debris when Penumbra took over. Shattered glass on the flood, rotten food in the shelves that still stood, lots of broken wood and the smell of blood permeated the room yet there were no visible stains.

Most of the past few nights were spent in similar manner as the last with Penumbra, Joe and occasionally William cleaning the cellar to make it livable, presentable and especially, safe for both the monsters that would be caught, evolved or trained, then eventually sold and for Penumbra/Joe.

Today everything was completed. Everything but the actual hut which remained, at least from the outside, abandoned. A necessary compromise in the first months of business until a reputation is formed, resources are gathered and security can be provided. Sloshing around, Penumbra took account of everything in the cellar. Two small cages on the left as soon as you come in, one restored shelf on the right with some basic materials, a bookshelf that was currently empty towards the end of the room and a larger cage right in the middle of the room. In the left-most corner of the room, two cauldrons resided. One small and one almost as big as Penumbra. For any who’d wander in the cellar, they’d look out of place but for Penumbra and Joe, they were beds. Home.

A big sludge slowly pooled onto the floor. Sludge that formed Penumbra’s body appeared from a vent hole and Penumbra stood up. Imitating to the best of their ability humans, Penumbra tried to form legs and arms yet this was a skill they didn’t master yet. Their made up body ended up looking more inhuman than planned but it was a step in the right direction.

With the final touches done to their place of business, there were only two things left to do. One, get some monsters in and two, wait for William. Yet, William was nowhere to be found. An hour passed, then two, then three. The sun was slowly getting up in the sky. Almost all morning was spent doing nothing.

“Joe. Climb on the rooftop, check if William is back with our first experiment. He should’ve been here hours ago." shouted the many voices of Penumbra, similar to multiple people talking all at once from far away in baritone.

The small form of Joe, rose from their cauldron and sloshed on the ground going up the vent and towards the roof. Joe was a small-ish slime, standing up to 1.1 metre tall. Not bigger than the average human child. They were made of a different slime type than Penumbra’s black, vibrant green with streaks of browns. Penumbra theorised that Joe was a forest slime, born or created artificially by some mage around this area but 'alas Joe wasn't the talking type and without Penumbra’s will keeping them docile, Joe would've probably ended up in the Hamlet before being killed.

A merrily song, sung in an off-key and with missing lyrics, could soon be heard. Joe poked a tentacle out of the vent to announce that someone was approaching. William.

"I could've figured that out myself. He's almost at the door already. " said Penumbra before opening the cellar door which was barred from the inside. As soon as that was done, the door swung open and William's face came into view.

Glassy black hair, unshaved face and a pipe in his mouth, smoke coming out of it. His cheeks were red from drinking and he sported a few visible scars or how he called them “A sure way to get the ladies”.

“Finally. You’re here and late. ” promptly said Penumbra. If they had a face, it would’ve frowned now.

“Hello to you too, my gelatinous friend. I am not late, I am always where I need to be at the right time. Trust me. I come bearing gifts. ” replied William with a charming smile before giving Penumbra a hearty laugh at their annoyance.

“Very well. Come in and if it ain’t worth it, I swear I’ll eat you this time. ”

One might be scared when a monster would tell him that but between William and Penumbra there was a friendship born out of each other’s desire for survival. A friendship which included constant threats, mostly from Penumbra and jokes from William. Neither would actually follow through with the threats but they kept making them and laughing them off later.

William's behaviour of being late and smug about it wasn't a first. Penumbra learned from early on that William likes spending time in the tavern drinking alcohol and flirting with the ladies. Not that the lady wooing worked that much but he still tried. That was, of course, if he didn't spend his time in the forest, hunting. A useful trait in a business partner seeing as most rumours and people like to spend their nights at the Inn.

"I told you already, I don't taste nice. Now, if you'd have salt and some expensive spices, my meat would be just perfect. Otherwise you'd just choke on me or whatever's the equivalent of choking for slimes. " said William in reply with a laugh as he got inside the cellar, dragging a bag behind him.

William proceeded to walk towards the smallest cage and let out a whistle as he surveyed the room before dropping the bag in the cage and closing it behind him.

"Hoowee. You sure don't waste time. When I left two days ago, this place was still a mess. Look at it now. "

"As I've told you many times before. I need to learn more about my kind and how we function. Alas' that's impossible without understanding how monsters work. Now, quit dilly dallying. What do you have for me? "

"Not sure to be honest. It's a rat of sorts. Though it could be a good monster to start your experiments on. "

As William spoke, he reached in the cage and pulled the bag off the creature he captured. Inside, the monster came to its sense and almost immediately tried to bite William's hand as he removed it.

Penumbra approached the creature with a look of curiosity. Circling the cage a few times, the monster cowed in fear. Monster recognising monster.

[Identity Monster]

With a critical eye, Penumbra studied the monster and after a minute or two, turned to William.

"This, William, is a giant rat or it should be. Looks like you caught a very young one. This will do for now. Give me a few days and come again. I'll see what I can learn about it. "

"Ha! I knew it was a rat! "

"Not any type of rat but yes, a rat. A fully grown one can easily kill a man. Anyways, begone. I've got work to do now. " replied Penumbra with a smile.

"Very well. I'll be back soon but before I leave, the adventurer guild is going to open up again soon. You should be careful. " added William with a concerned look towards Penumbra as they left.

Adventurer's Guild. A menace to all slime-kind. A well deserved one but a menace nonetheless. Penumbra’s thoughts raced, trying to think of potential plans. Only one came to mind. Buy monsters off them via William as a proxy. But these thoughts didn't last for long. The giant rat needed attention.

Amidst the sound of the creek babbling neath the stretch of the overpass, crickets played their peaceful melody as the frogs filled the silence between with the low baritone of their croaks.

It almost sounded as though the river sang, a sleepy aria broken by the beat of a passing horse over the bridge that lead to Hearth or if one listened carefully enough their ears would be pricked by the sound of a faint off-key chirp unlike a cricket or a birds. It was coming from a small creature sat atop a moss covered rock, happily knawing at its own tail as it sang to nobody in particular.

Wormwood was right at home under the bridge, where it was dark, dank and damp. Somewhere he could splash around and if he was lucky eat a dead fish or something other than the odd pebble. Daylight hurt his eyes so the shade of the bridge was one comfort he had when he wasn't meandering about the woods to the south, wherever south was he knew that his hidey-hole was in that general direction.

Along with the Kobold happily chirping, a small scree came from the little grub that had taken a spot on the head of its dimwitted owner, almost like Squig were singing with Wormwood as the two waited for the sun to dip, night time would be time when they would make for the village to rummage through the hooman's trash.

The old man threaded the fishing line through his calloused, wrinkly fingers as he brought the slender pole up with his opposite hand. With movements smoothed by long experience, he cast the line out into the air, then steadied both hands at the rod’s base. The corner of his mouth quirked in what might have been a smile as he waited for the first bite.

A wooden blade swept towards the lure---a plain tube of hollow wood, with the string fastened to a plug at its other end. Goh flicked his wrist and the target nimbly hopped over the horizontal slash. With the slightest movement of his hand, the line swung like a pendulum. His student gave a determined shout and chased after it, swinging vertically this time. Goh wiggled the pole to send a loop-de-loop through the thin string and the tube danced to one side of the attack.

“Do not give chase, Gareth.” he said in a gravelly voice. “Predict where your target will move, and cut it off!”

“Yes, Master Goh!” said the boy with the habitual tone of respect that’d been drilled into him. But his teacher knew he wasn’t listening, because he kept following after the swinging target as it drifted in a new direction. Old Man Goh chuckled and spared a glance to his other students.

“Miss Alyshia, slow down! It is more important that each sequence is correct, than it is for the whole form to be swift!” He continued to move the target with his fishing pole as he looked between the two of them. Though one was all wild energy and effort, and the other more controlled, neither of the two children escaped his notice.

“Yes, Master Goh!” The willowy little girl stopped and went back to her beginning stance. From a high guard, she swept her wooden sword down with focus much sharper than the practice weapon. In the same movement she turned her hips and brought it up, reinforcing the back of the blade with her hand for a simulated block. Then she circled it around her head to come down with a repetition of the first strike, but this one was followed by advancing one step forward and sweeping the tip for an upward, diagonal cut. Goh hummed and nodded as she continued the rest of the form, intentionally performing each movement at less than half her normal speed but perfecting the individual techniques step by step.

“Master Gooooh, am I done yet!?” A fourth voice whined. As the teacher once again pulled Gareth’s target away from him at the very last moment (causing the wooden tube to actually land on the boy’s head as if taunting him, before sweeping it somewhere else), Goh’s smile turned to a frown. He looked towards his third student. On three of the thickest trees at the edge of the clearing, white chalk lines had been drawn–one vertical, one horizontal, and two crossing like an X diagonally. These eight spokes had been drawn straight and smooth by Goh’s practiced hand, and the chubby Eric stood in front of one tree. He was propped on his sword and sweating.

“Have you traced each line ten times?”

“W-well…” Goh narrowed his eyes, and the boy gulped down his lie. “Um, almost…But my arms hurt, and—”

“Then you are not finished!” He turned back to Gareth’s training, but what Eric didn’t know was that his master could still see him from the corner of his eye. To his credit, the bigger boy took a deep breath and raised his sword again. He clearly wasn’t happy about it, but he had already learned that Goh’s punishments were worse than his training. Good. Eric began striking through the air, attempting to align the tip and edge of his blade with the direction of the chalk lines in front of him each time. Goh’s smile returned. Progress was progress, after all.

Goh moved his pole in a manner identical to a movement he’d made before. He saw Gareth’s stance change. Then a crack of wood against wood rang out, and the boy cheered.

“I did it!” He turned towards his master, where the old man sat on a long-dead and dried stump. “Master Goh, did you see?”

“I did. Do you?” he asked, as he moved his arm. His student tracked the motion with those bright eyes, and squinted in confusion---just before the hollow tube clinked against the back of his head.

“Gah!”

“Do not stop moving until your opponent does, boy!” Now Goh swapped the pole from two hands into his left alone, and began moving it more swiftly, whipping the line and the target around Gareth in haphazard circles. “Keep going!”

The three children continued their training, and the old man continued barking orders. Gareth dutifully did everything he was asked, regardless of whether he had the skill to accomplish the task or not. Alyshia's grace and finesse grew keener with every repetition of the form---her talent was such that, in the time it had taken Gareth and Eric to learn a single sequence, she had learned three. She was a joy to watch, though every so often Goh was reminded that he hoped to never see her actually use these techniques. Eric did as he was told, or else he was given something worse to do. This wasn’t a matter of favoritism---Garetha and Alyshia had to do the exact same exercises, and were given the exact same punishments whenever they misbehaved. What Eric was only just starting to figure out, was that they misbehaved less often. And once he understood the link between his own actions and the consequences he endured, then Goh could begin teaching him why that distinction was important.

But for now, perhaps, they had learned enough.

"Alright, everyone line up!" He called, reeling in Gareth's target. The boy had managed to catch it a few more times, but it was more a matter of continuing to charge after it until he caught up rather than predicting the lure's path. Goh decided to get a little more "serious" with him next time. Alyshia had just completed her last form, and Eric moved as fast as his chubby legs could carry him despite having complained a moment ago about being "so sore he couldn't move." Goh looked at the three children sternly...and then nodded.

"Very well. We'll end training early today, since it's time for the Market." Three little voices raised in cheers. "But!" They all snapped back to attention. "I expect you all to be on good behavior! Remember that this training isn't just for your sword---it is also for your spirits!"

"Yes, Master Goh!" they all recited in unison. He nodded and pretended to be reluctant.

"Very well! Bow! Dismissed!"

They left the woods as a group, Eric and Gareth running ahead in a stubborn race while Alyshia skipped and frolicked just a few strides ahead of the old man bringing up the rear. As they walked down a gentle slope towards the village, Old Man Goh stopped for a while just to breathe it all in. He shook his head, the movement causing his white beard to whip back and forth in front of his chest.

"I wish times like these didn't fade so quickly..." he muttered, before continuing after the children.

---

---

It was rare for Ingrid to not wear her armour. After all, armour was the symbol of a knight (even if her armour felt more like a childish attempt at making a soldier less frightening; lipstick on a pig--or literally a goat on a helmet). Common belief would hold that a guard should always be on guard. However, Hearth was not a place in which such a stern outlook on one's duties mattered. She did more work repairing waterlogged and rotting planks on bridges and docks. Besides, Ingrid without her armour was just as imposing. Even if her loose-fitting undershirt and pants hid her physique with draped cotton, her height couldn't be hidden. Most conflicts could be solved by standing above and looking down on someone.

As for why: today was Market Day. That meant that Ingrid had a craving for seafood. She was always on a see food diet, but something about the these days that she craved fresh fish. Perhaps it was the fresh bread. Maybe it was the lack of seafood in the market as it didn't keep besides via obscene amounts of salt or smoke. It could have just been some strange craving that she got. Most likely it was that she spent most of Market Day watching the roads and fishing gave her something to do besides wave hello to the regular handful of visitors. Ingrid herself never thought about why. In fact, she never thought too deeply about anything.

Fishing was not a pursuit of a noble, but it was a noble pursuit. Stately matters and governance may protect one's land, but it did nothing to quell one's thrice daily hunger pangs (in Ingrid's case: eighce daily). In this regard, fishing was perhaps one of the noblest pursuits of them all. After all, proverbial wisdom often involved fishing. Probably because there was little to do while fishing besides thinking up proverbs.

Ingrid enjoyed fishing, yet she couldn't fish for shit. It always ended up the same way. Perhaps her lack of skill related to her inability to think up pithy little bits of wisdom while she fished. More likely it was her trying to muscle her way into every catch rather than use any level of finesse. If the fish in the river were 6ft behemoths of oceanic virility, that strategy would probably work. Unfortunately, the fish at the bridge usually remained snack sized. Well, Ingrid-sized snacks.

"Skeutan!" Ingrid yelled as she felt her rod slipping out of her hands, something that happened because she zonked out looking at the horizon. With a quick fumble, she found herself leaping after the rod as it descended away from her grasp and into the river. Incidentally, that is why she didn't wear armour on Market Days. After the third time she had to clean, dry, polish, and oil her armour, Dalton reminded her that she could just not wear it when she tries to fish.

With an inglorious fall, Ingrid flopped into the water. Her instinct took over as she plummeted the few feet between the bridge and waterline. Her knees tucked into her chest and her body shrunk into itself. One's body doesn't quite forget the feeling of jamming into the bottom of a riverbed, especially for someone as dense as Ingrid. Tightening into a ball made it so that her legs didn't touch the riverbed until her momentum was mostly stopped. Of course, this had the side effect of creating a large splash of water. Said splash would usually be meaningless. After all, there was usually a keen lack of people in the immediate vicinity. Unfortunately for the lizard man under the bridge, he was mere feet away from the violent knight-powered geyser of water.

In any case, it was two fish with one cannonball. Two fish were stunned and floated to the surface alongside her fishing rod. In all honesty, Ingrid should have just ditched the rod all together and started with jumping into the river. Switching to that method would mean that Ingrid would have an out of character moment of introspection, so it was unlikely that she would ever do so. Hands from the depths grabbed all three: both fish in one and the rod in the other. Everything sunk down into the refraction of the river.

A normal person would have, perhaps, intuited a way to float their way to the riverbank. Unfortunately, such an act was impossible for Ingrid. As was usual when she fell into water, Ingrid had to get out the only way she knew how: by walking along the riverbed until she climbed out on her own feet. Thankfully, the river was never quite dangerous enough to sweep someone as dense as her away.

As she rose from the riverbed mentally unfazed from the ordeal, Ingrid was in a good mood thanks to her newly acquired breakfast. Well, her post-breakfast snack. The thing that she ate that came before brunch.

“Market Day, Market Day! Gonna show off my goods on Market Day~!” A lanky figure sang, traipsing down the road, and rattling his decrepit wheelbarrow across the wooden bridge that spanned across Hearth’s river. Off at the market, a solitary crow took a peek at the stalls before flying off, coming to perch upon the aforementioned wheelbarrow. “Caw!”

“That so Joe Bob?”

“Caw.”

“No! Mrs. Madelaine did NOT say that! And in front of her pigeons?”

“Caw.”

“Go figure!” The figure said before the crow dived straight into his shirt and vanished. “But at least I reckon I can sell these little wild crops for some fertilizer,” Cornelius thought out loud, his lack of good tools and fertilizer meaning that his crops were a little…well…

There was a squash that was curled in on itself, a bundle of green onions that had flowered, a couple of small melons that weren’t perfectly round, and somehow, a square tomato. “…Well uh…someone might just buy ‘em for laughs, but these suckers will taste good!” Cornelius said, still proud even in spite of his bizzarro crops. “Hmmhmhmhmhmmm, Market Day, Market Day~” he sang, his wheelbarrow bouncing a bit on a cobblestone, just enough to send the strange curly squash tumbling off of the cart and rolling off the bridge and into the creek below. Whether that would become food for the kobold below the bridge, or bonk the knight down there, Cornelius would be none the wiser until he actually got to the market and set up his stall.

Charming words and an award-winning (sewed-on) smile only counted for so much when folks were mostly laughing at the strangely grown crops that Cornelius had brought. Whereas once the villagers had shrieked and ran away at the prospect of a scarecrow taking over the abandoned fields, but now it was just...an oddity. A perplexing neighbor that meant no harm, but didn't exactly do much. After all, how could a scarecrow grow crops when they stand around all day?

"Boy howdy, this Market Day is going swell," Cornelius mused, running his leather-gloved straw fingers over the few coins that he'd managed to make.

There was so much to be done! Books to be read, old leather covers to be restored, novels to be reshelved, shelves to be refurnished, books to be reread, archives to be reviewed, books to be rereread, floors to redust, and of course, books to be rerereread!

Luckily, Boro the Bookkeeper was a multitasker. Unluckily, he wasn’t always the best multitasker…

Using a bit of handy magic, he formed a few telekinetic hands to get things done. As he dusted off cobwebs, he tightened the screws of a table. As he sorted stray papers, he stacked heavy grimoires.

And as he sewed covers back onto torn books, he kept leafing through the pages of this strange romantic script he’d just found. It was quite juicy! He’d never fallen in love before, but the idea was immensely intriguing. The play enraptured him, as it was about two young lovers from two different households both alike in dignity, in fair—OUCH! Somehow, one of his telekinetic hands had accidentally poked the sewing needle right off the table and onto his leg. This was why you didn’t read and sew Boro!

He’d been living in and running the abandoned library for only a few weeks, but by now, he had already set up a decent reading area in the front lobby room of the building. It had three large shelves of the most serviceable books and a few chairs with moth-ridden pillows. And this would have to do for now since it was the only publicly available area of the library at the current moment since the other rooms and floors of the library were an absolute mess! Whoever had last run the place seemed to have had no care for the books or the cleanliness of the facility, something Boro found very saddening. Files were crammed under chests, fiction mixed with nonfiction, magical tomes running around without leashes—the state of affairs was horrendous!

But no worries, it was now his duty to restore the Hearth Public Library to its highest potential. As an obsessive reader, Boro had always wanted to run a library. And now he was doing it! He was on his way to creating a cozy den of knowledge and magic and stories, inspiring the hearts of this sleepy town with the power of BOOKS!

But first things first, he needed a band-aid. He never seems to learn his lesson about reading and multitasking…

***

After the morning chores, Boro stepped outside of his library. He’d been mostly focusing on the interior design, so the outside entrance to the library was still a bit ramshackle… No wonder not too many patrons had come by the past few weeks…

Just then, a townswoman passed by carrying a basket.

“Hello! Would you like book, Miss? I have many books to read! Good reads! For—”

Boro’s voice boomed from his unseen mouth, hidden behind the shadow of his hood. He waved a book at her with his invisible telekinetic hand. She looked up at his towering 7’ foot tall cloaked figure with her wide eyes. Saying nothing, she hurriedly speed-walked out of his view. Sigh, what would it take to get people back into reading?

He walked forward to sadly watch as she shuffled off towards the other buildings. It seemed that there were some people gathering for something… Boro’s eyes lit up as he remembered something. Snatching his journal, he found that he had marked today as Market Day! How perfect! While he wouldn’t sell his books, this was a chance for those wandering to find new books and enjoy the pleasures of the written word!

Boro quickly dashed back into the library. There were sounds of crashing, clanging, whistles, and weirdly, a cat screeching. After several moments, he came out of the library, a wheelbarrow being pushed in front of him full of many different books. This would be an excellent way for him spread the word that the library was a great place to read!

If people wouldn’t come, the books would come to them!

"Okay, I think it is ready," Zrer spoke with both hopefulness and wary as he stared at his newest potion that sat on his alchemy table. If this potion works, then he will get his magic back but if not. Then it is another failure and back to the drawing board. It will hurt either way. "So here goes nothing," he said and drink the purple liquid concoction. For a minute, nothing happened, and he started to wonder if the potion worked or not. Then came the pain, and it was so bad that it caused Zrer to drop to his knees. The pain stayed for a moment and then went away.

Zrer, with heavy breathing, he slowly got up and gripped his alchemy table as he got up. After some moments of resting, did Zrer try to use his magic. Only pain greeted him, and he sighed. "Cross that one off the list," he said almost tired sounding. But it did not mean he is giving up no. He is just going to take a break and rest. Good thing he has nothing to make today, and he left his alchemy table behind and went to the kitchen to make some tea.

Once the tea was done, he sat down at his table and thought about things. "Okay, so that did not work... maybe it was the crimson berries?" Zrer dismissed the idea and took a sip from his tea. Which tasted a balance between sweet and bitter. Others may hate it, but he likes it, and the herb he needs to make it is easy to grow.

Still, another failure but one that will not keep him down. He will get his magic back, he thought as he happily sipped his tea. He just needs to find the right potion, and bam! He is a mage again, and he has all the time in the world. Which Zrer remembered that he should return that book to the library. Since he has no use for it anymore and Zrer is pretty sure that Boro will want it back. He is a nice guy, or he seems like one that Boro.

So after finishing his tea, Zrer grabbed the book from his alchemy room and went outside to walk to the library. It looked like a good day outside and felt like one. Despite his failure, it is time to see what else will happen to him today.

---

It was early morning, as Nibiria shuffled through the cottage she’d claimed as a homestead, and milled around her office. There was nothing on her calendar; no patients to be seen, no appointments to be made. Everything was scheduled off for the week, because she was on vacation for once.

She needed it. Badly.

Hearth was no normal, sleepy hamlet in the backwoods and nowhere. It was a place of tortuous secrets that had kept her wide awake for almost a week since she’d started to notice things were off about the people she’d been living around for close to a year.

There were dark people with dark secrets; runaways and strays; hunters and hunted; monsters clad in the flesh of mer and in the clothing of men. Pictures were pinned to a white wall; various coloured yarn strung up between them like a colourful web...


As she downed her fourth cup of coffee, the wired alchemist glared at the pictures.

“I need the common denominator...” Nibiria says, pouring her fifth cup. “What about this place makes it a beacon to troublesome individuals?”

Poor, poor Wormwood's heart practically leapt form his chest, whistling sputtered and burbled as he became thoroughly soaked by Ingrid falling in after her rod.

Much to Squigs dismay his friend tipped backwards and tumbled into the shallow waters face first though with less oomph than the clumsy hooman only making a soft bloop sound like a droplet of water in a runoff barrel "HURGLEBURGLEBURGLEB-" sweet stupid Wormwood momentarily forgot he could not speak or exclaim his dismay while planted face first in the water after a moment raising his head to let spit out a stream of water folkowed by much coughing and sputtering all the while Squigs sat on Wormwood's back. Once the lizard stood, his ragged clothes now even more ragged and more wet though it didn't stop him from scrambling towards a fish flopping about almost forgetting entirely that a hooman was basically in sight of him.

"Mmm, fish yummy. Yay for splash-" almost like he was finally comprehending what happened Wormwood stared at Ingrid rising from the water with wide eyes and mouth bulging with river water and fish loudly gulping both as he locked eyes with her.

Oh shit, a rat!

Except it wasn't. No, rats had fur and, when they weren't being pests, were actually quite cute. Well, the fur made them cute. Rats without fur were, in fact, quite horrifying to look at. What had locked eyes with her was a toddler-sized lizard with scales, bulbous eyes, and jutting teeth. He certainly matched the description that Dalton gave her when something went through the inn's garbage: a short and bulbous thing scaly thing. Then again, it may have just been an ugly rat that had gone through Dalton's garbage.

Regardless, Ingrid didn't share the villager's level of caution when it came to the more non-human types around Hearth. After all, she was tutored by a libertine, acted out her knightly duties, and had spent time travelling across the lands before settling down. Though, perhaps a large portion of it was instead instinct: a mixture of her natural sense of danger and the understanding that the Kobold could pretty much only bite her ankles. Maybe if he stretched as high as he could, he could scratch at her knees.

This whole situation reminded Ingrid of one of her escapades as a knight. Her duty (alongside the other knights) was to find and bring to justice a group of brigands who had taken over a bridge and demanded a toll from anyone who would pass. They called themselves "The Bridge Boys" and would wait under a bridge until a merchant came by.

For Wormwood, that wasn't exactly a good memory to come up.

"...Why are you under a bridge?" The soaked Ingrid asked with an interrogating look on her face. Her level of authority here was strange; on one hand, she wore no armour, was carrying a rather thick fishing rod instead of a blade, and was completely soaked. On the other, she was sized to punt Wormwood to the next village over. That was definitely intimidating.

Surprisingly, him being a Kobold was less of an issue than being under a bridge. As for why was a story for a different time.

Boro had just wheeled out his wheelbarrow of many various books when he saw a familiar fellow on his way towards the library. It was Zrer Lakeilu, one of the few patrons of the library so far! While most of the villagers had been ignoring Boro, Zrer had in fact come by looking for books for restoring his magic.

"Oh hallo! It is Mr. Lakeilu. Hallo Mr. Lakeilu! Good morning, happy Market Day." Despite Boro's large, imposing frame, he had a low but strangely sing-songy kind of voice with a foreign lilt to it.

Boro trundled over towards the man, rolling his books along, but noticed the somewhat crestfallen expression on Zrer's face. Boro was deeply saddened by the man's loss of magic. Boro relied on magic quite extensively in his everyday use. It was very handy, so he couldn't imagine living without it.

"I'm sorry Mr. Lakeilu, did the book not help? With your... situation? Perhaps I can find better book for you." Boro cocked his head as one of his telekinetic hands began to leaf through his journal, to check records of the book he had checked out to the man earlier. Unfortunately, much of the library was still quite a mess, so the book was the only one he had found so far tangentially related to poor Mr. Lakeilu's plight... But perhaps there was one hidden deeper in the archives and piles of debris.

Zrer was enjoying the nice weather as he was walking to the library when he spotted Boro with a wheelbarrow filled with books. A wheelbarrow? Why is he using a wheelbarrow? Zrer confusedly thought as the village's sole librarian spotted him and approached him.

"Hello there, Boro." Putting on a smile for him and speaking with a slight accent. He was wearing his normal attire. "Good morning to you too, and happy Market Day."

It was nice that Boro was helping him with his problem even if Zrer did not know much about the man. Well, a person, since he has no idea what he is, and asking just seems rude to him. But what Zrer can tell is that Boro is a magic user and one with a love for books. It almost reminds Zrer of a friend he had back at the academy but that memory is for another time.

"Yeah, Boro, it did not... But it was a step in the right direction." Zrer putting on a semi-hopeful expression on his face. Even if it failed, it was still useful to him."I am kinda surprised your library had a book related to regaining one's magic, but that means this library of ours is special." Especially in a village like this one, Zrer thought, and he would hand the book over to Boro. "Also, how are you doing today Boro? Good, I hope."

Interacting with: No-one

Location: Home

Action: Changing Tasks

Emotion: Destressing

---

Throwing up her hands, Nibiria groaned, as she pushed on the whiteboard, before righting herself and grabbing a pouch and a pipe off her desk. Retiring from the study, and latching the door, Nibiria retreated to the outdoors - overlooking the expansive garden that she tended; a large tract of veggies and herbs that took hours to maintain for a normal human, but for a Forest Arachne such as herself, it was child's play.

Unbeknownst to her, there was something going on that was cause for celebration about the hamlet she bordered. Lighting her pipe, Nibiria took a hearty drag of her pipe-weed, and set into her garden. The sharpest of eyes would see her passing through the rows, spider webs trailing from her fingertips, snagging weeds, and tearing them out. As she made a second pass, she would gather the weeds into a bundle of webbing, and toss the ball into a composting bin, before heading to her toolshed to fetch her watering can.

Cautiously, she opened the door a crack, and exhaled smoke into the room. Normally, she tended the garden in the early hours of the morning, so she didn't need her watering can, since she could just summon rain and water the garden without issue. Unfortunately, today was not normal, so she needed to spook her toolshed squatter. However, with no reaction to the smoke, she would open the door in full to reveal it was decidedly bereft of Kobold, and sighed.

“I guess, he's out and about,” Nibiria says, fetching her can, and summoning a rain cloud inside it to produce water infinitely. Dragging on her pipe, she hummed merrily, as she watered her plants; listening to their appreciation for her attendance.

It was the little things, really.

...but, it was mostly the intense ego-boost for the narcissistic species that was the Arachne.

As his students scampered down the village thoroughfare, Goh folded his fishing pole and used a familiar, slightly curved piece of wood from his belt to steady his walk. He didn't really have any limps or old injuries, but it helped when he got tired out...and, truth be told, it just felt proper for a man his age to have a "cane," after all. The little ones' parents and neighbors were no doubt among the various little groups that gathered around the market stalls, so as long as he kept a sharp ear out he had little fear that they'd get themselves into too much trouble. Even Eric had learned quite quickly that if he was going to commit some mischief, he'd best not let the elder find out about it.

But, Goh himself had little need at the moment. He did not often buy the fancy spices or unusual delicacies brought to market--he preferred the simplicity and ease of plain rice, meat, and home-grown vegetables to the wistful treats and cakes the children were so fond of. He could find someone in the village to repair his clothes easily enough, or do a passable job himself, and cared little for fashion. Thus, neither did bolts of colorful cloth or the pleasurable feel of far-away silks hold any interest for him. All in all, Market Day was really more about wandering, watching, and listening for him...and he noticed a few things here and there.

It looked like Boro, the librarian, had decided to bring his precious tomes outside. That was good---people really didn't appreciate how lucky they were to have such a collection, this far away from a major city! Goh had never even seen books growing up, and even if he had, he wouldn't have been allowed inside some place as grand as a library. Such things were reserved for---

Let's not remember these things.

It was enough to know that the library was a great boon, and that the people of Hearth should appreciate it more.

Goh continued wandering aimlessly. He also noticed the...scarecrow...with a wheelbarrow full of what he could only imagine were the creature's attempts at gardening. If critters like Wormwood struck Goh as odd, and that strange creature William sometimes talked about as suspicious, then the word he would use for the scarecrow was perhaps...unnerving. The old man folded his arms behind his back, letting his cane trail above the ground, and passed on.

Speaking of Wormwood, the little lizard-thing was splashing around on the riverbank, either playing or trying to catch his dinner. Goh started to head that way--before he saw the enormous figure of Ingrid rise up out of the water like one of the fabled monsters of his distant homeland. Had...had she fallen into the river? No, wait. She took her duties as village guard very seriously...perhaps she'd been waiting, the whole time, under the water's surface in case any shifty-eyed n'er'do'well tried to make off with the village's fish! Ah, poor Wormwood, then. But she probably wouldn't be too hard on him. Goh nodded to himself and continued his peaceful walk.

But of all the villagers he saw out and about, waving and exchanging pleasant greetings, there was another missing. Of course, it wasn't anything unusual for this particular person to be absent...and yet, a thought began to creep into Goh's hoary head.

When he'd first come to this village, the people had been rightly suspicious. He hadn't been quite so old, then, but old enough that it struck folks as unusual for a man like him to be out and about; alone, homeless, wandering...and, perhaps, dangerous. It had taken a great deal of time...and a large amount of money, which he'd never told anyone how he attained...to get himself settled here. And it had taken longer for the villagers to accept him. Now, though, if he could be permitted to pat himself on the back somewhat, he felt that the villagers had come to like him. He'd made an effort, to behave the way he thought an old man in a foreign land should, and to speak kindly to those around him. He'd spent a lot of time with the children he'd taken under his wing, of course, and gotten to know their parents, and every so often he shared excess spoils from his snare traps or his little root cellar with the neighbors.

Nothing that could really make up for his past, perhaps, but...a start.

And yet, despite being of far more importance to the community than he, he'd noticed that the local doctor--or at least, one of the two people in town capable of brewing healing draughts, and able to set bones and do other things besides alchemy--was treated by the villagers with much the same air Goh himself felt towards the scarecrow. Maybe he was simply an old fool putting his nose in where it didn't belong, but he couldn't help wondering about it. And, after all...if he was making the effort to behave as a kindly hearted, wise and gentle old man should, then shouldn't he make this effort as well?

Thus his wanderings took him down the southern road, still waving and exchanging a few pleasantries with the peddling carts still trickling into town. His "cane" saw more use by the time he passed what passed for a "lookout," Ingrid's usual place of business, but he still moved with remarkable ease for an old man. As he left the road and headed into the gentle, grassy pastures, he enjoyed the warmth of the sun sinking into his dark coat. A gentle breeze rustled the grass in waves around him. He spared a glance for the skies, marveling in their blue, curving vastness. A pang of regret pinched Goh's heart---why had it taken him so many years to appreciate peace like this, in such a humble place? He sighed, as he came to the edge of the forest, and a humble cottage set on its doorstep.

Goh stopped. He looked down at his feet, and followed...something...with his eyes. Then, picking up one foot very carefully and unusually high, he stepped over the...something...and with equal care brought his other foot along. As he continued towards the cottage, he took in a quiet breath through his nose, and then his weight shifted.

A sweeping, crescent shaped step. Not fast, not slow. The weight of the foot focused along the edge of the whole extremity, not in the front or in the heel. His mass, distributed evenly. Knees bending, just enough to blur the moment between the rise and fall of each step. His voluminous clothing, and the slight breeze, gave him the appearance of a spirit that floated above the ground, rather than walked on it. And thus was the sound of his coming silenced.

“I guess, he's out and about,” Nibiria says, fetching her can, and summoning a rain cloud inside it to produce water infinitely. Dragging on her pipe, she hummed merrily, as she watered her plants; listening to their appreciation for her attendance.

As the woman rounded one row to begin on another, a puff from her pipe trailed behind her. Goh lifted a hand to wave it away without rustling the sleeve of his garments. Then, politely, he put the same hand over his mouth and coughed to announce his presence.

"Good morning, Doctor." He smiled at her without showing his teeth, folding his hands behind his back again. "Did you know? It's Market Day."

---

---

Having left her cottage by the riverside a bit earlier this morning, Saya made her way toward the Hamlet library, as she often did. Whether it was to obtain more grimoires to assist with her endeavors, or a simple investigative thriller novel to pass the time, Saya had unintentionally made her name as the Hamlet’s resident bibliophile. This morning she had to return a few books she had borrowed a week ago: a tome considering the intricacies of multi-layered magic circles in order to achieve more potent effects and another on how to coax magical beasts. She would then pick up a grimoire focusing on plantlife studies, and perhaps a horror novel to help curb her intermittent boredom.

Along the way she would see that somber-looking girl on the bridge, Ingrid was her name she believed? The town’s appointed guardsman had gotten herself wet by going below the bridge, apparently something under it had roused her attention. She seemed to be holding some sort of little critter. She could barely make it out, but it appeared to be a kobold if she went off the top of her head. It wasn’t uncommon for little creatures of the sort to wander into the village, some were dangers and some often weren’t. This one, likely, was the latter. She ultimately left them to their devices.

She paid little heed to the hustle and bustle that plagued the town this morning, just another Market Day to be sure. She did decide to buy a scone from one of the makeshift stalls, as her breakfast which she often skipped when she gets into her studies. The Guild would also open its doors on this day, she thought about joining it here and there, if only that it would serve her ambition. After a little while, she eventually made her way to the Hamlet Library, were she would see its proprietor Boro standing out in front. He appeared to be speaking to someone, it was Zrer the elf alchemist. He had a somewhat somber air about him, and it made her somewhat curious as to what they were talking about.

”Good Morning, Boro.” She said to the bookkeeper, being already acquainted with him. ”I’ve come to return these books to you. They’ve been good help in my research.”

She then looked at Zrer. ”Good Morning to you as well, sir. Ah, if you don’t mind me prying, the two of you seemed to be discussing something just now. May I perhaps be of help, if I’m not overstepping?”

Boro nodded as the man replied to him. Although Boro’s face was quite obscured, one could still see the concern in his white eyes.

“Oh, I am sorry my friend the book did not work. But yes, it is a step forward!” Boro waved one of his books emphatically in the air. It was good to be optimistic in the face of failure. That’s what all the best heroes did in the noble adventure books that Boro had read over the years.

“Indeed, it is special! This library is one of mystery and power. Whoever amassed the books inside — they were a hungry collector… but not to so good with the organization… There is much work to be done, but if there is any book that can help you with your magic, I will continue searching Mr. Lakeilu!”

Boro’s mind quickly flashed to the dozens of piles he was sorting through so far… There had been some inklings of more magical tomes within the library, but he hadn’t found anything incredibly powerful for the most part. But there were still many hallways and rooms in that library left in disarray that could possibly hold the power to reinvigorate Zrer’s magic.

“Oh yes my friend, I am good! Today is a day with sun. It is always good when the sun is not missing! Also I have books. That is always good.” Boro chirped.

Speaking of magic, he saw another familiar patron approaching them.

“Hello! Happy Market Day Ms. Akaba!” Boro smiled beneath the shadow of his hood. While most villagers tended to avoid the library and its mysterious librarian, Saya Akaba was an avid bibliophile who had begun to check out many materials from the library quite soon after Boro began to run the place. She also seemed to be an adept magic-user, which impressed Boro immensely.

“I am glad they were good help to you! The grimoire on multi-layer geometry in magic is very… intricate read. I barely understand it myself, but happy to know they are useful to you.” Boro’s telekinetic hands reached over to accept the hefty books and place them on the side of the wheelbarrow for later reshelving.

Boro then turned towards Zrer as Saya begin to ask him about his situation. Boro suddenly felt somewhat sheepish. Hopefully, all his telekinetic magic and talk of mystical arts weren’t saddening Zrer or making him jealous… Boro couldn’t imagine how hard fixing up the library would be without a bit of magic!

Penumbra looked upon the Giant Rat and after circling the cage a few times nodded to themselves.

“Your new name will be Ratty. You are now my first experiment in training, taming and modifying creatures. ” said the multiple voices of Penumbra as Ratty screeched in their direction.

“Ah, you understand me, don’t you. To a certain degree at least. Very well. Now. You’re going to be fed a strict diet and you’ll be rewarded if you follow my commands. If not, you’ll see what happens when a slime’s body meets flesh. ” continued Penumbra as Ratty started to test out his new cage.

The strict diet was something of an experiment itself. Giant rats usually ate meat or different vegetables. Penumbra’s plan was exotic. To make a giant rat capable of either changing shapes at will, change their natural element or swap between solid and liquid form.
In order for that to work, Penumbra planned to put minuscule parts of his own body inside Ratty’s favorite food.

Taking a piece of meat from a cupboard, Penumbra approached the cage once more and waved it in front of Ratty. With a screech, Ratty jumped at the walls of the cage, trying to catch the piece of meat.

“There, there, Ratty. Calm yourself. You’ll get your food now. ” said Penumbra with a chuckle before submerging the piece of meat into themselves for a few seconds and then threw it in the cage. As it got out of them, small slime bits still hung on the meat.

Ratty almost jumped on it until it got close enough to notice the slime. After a few cautious sniffs and circles around it, he decided it’s safe enough and started to eat it.

“Good boy. You’ll get more soon. Eat up. ” encouraged Penumbra and not before long, Ratty finished the meat piece and started looking at Penumbra, asking for more.

“More? No problem. Stand on your two legs.” said Penumbra as they shaped their hand into a small rat standing on their two legs. Alas’ Ratty just continued looking at Penumbra.

And so the process of training and modifying started.

"AHHHHH NO HURTY WORMWOOD! WORMWOOD LOOK FOR TASTY-TASTY! NO HURT WORMWOOD PLEASE!" the Kobold let out a fearful and shrill yap, trying and failing not to mention flailing to wade away in shallow water only to splash about and get on top of a slippery rock almost bonking his head to the dismay of Squig who in comparison made a indignant sqee.

Before the green little lizards eyes had been pinpoints but now his vacant gaze was filled with fearful eyes, if nothing he was a typical Kobold to still have that deep rooted fear and cowardice ingrained in him though his all around lack of awareness and commonsense often downplayed that nature.

He stopped loudly yapping, and his eyelids lowered if they had eyebrows likely they would have been furrowed in a worried look.

"Hooman n-no make Wormwood go, p-please? H-Hooman no hurty Wormwood...Yes?" though he wasn't that bright as a monster he understood that humans didn't like their kind even if they were people too but beyond that all he knew was that humans were big and scary, as was Ingrid even if she weren't threatening him he still subtly but noticeably quivered fearful that she was going to shoo him away or make him leave.

Interacting with: @Zeroth (Goh)

Location: Garden

Action: Engaging In Conversation

Emotion: Tepid

---

Even though, Goh was as silent as a whisper in the wind, he could not hide from nature, and the plants that Nibiria tended were childish and affectionate; bringing her warning her of his approach long before he stepped into her sphere of influence, like a spy network of mischievous children. As such, she turned as if she'd known his presence much further down the road, as opposed to once he was in her yard - stepping softly upon her spider's web, so to speak.

“Sir Goh,” Nibiria says, finishing a row, “Walk and talk, please. This task is almost done.”

‘Market Day? Market Day? What the hell is Market Day?’