As soon as signs of civilization started to appear on the horizon, Astaroth dropped all pretenses of casual wandering and broke into a dead run toward Rome. Or whatever it was called in this godforsaken game. He didn't know how much protection being around other players would be, given the attitudes of his two new "friends", but it was worth a try. He had yet to meet anyone else besides them, and given the size of this place, it wouldn't make sense for everyone in the game to be bloodthirsty creeps. Maybe someone would help him shake them off if he couldn't lose them in the urban sprawl.
The sun began to peer out behind the clouds overhead as he ran, long legs easily eating up stretches of the winding dirt road before him. One would have thought that the new balancing act required by the longsword and those truly preposterous horns atop his head would slow him down. But his new body just moved in the effortless, fluid way he'd come to accept since waking up in this nightmare. The one good thing about being transported here against his will. He was never this graceful in real life.
That was, if he even still was who he thought he was.
He was exhausted, but the city was a welcome sight after the past week of nothing but forests and alien landmarks. Being a city boy, Astaroth hadn't any experience navigating the woods. It was this inexperience which led to his dubious run-in with the pair of snake-men on his second day in the game, and the circumstances which led to several days of increasingly tense travel.
They'd approached him wielding colorful daggers, shortswords, and broad scaly smiles, and nearly had given him a heart attack. He had been so intent on watching the ripples in the pond he was resting at that he hadn't heard their entrance through the undergrowth behind him. They'd introduced themselves as Faunri, fellow new players looking for people to band together with. Astaroth made vague noises about being a solo player, not trusting the way they were looking at him and what little gear he had. One of them kept shifting a hand behind his back and snickering at anything Astaroth said. After a very weird and stilted conversation with an ominous farewell, they went their separate ways, the human-turned-Antas with a prickly feeling down his neck.
The sensation didn't go away for several hours. He'd never been in a state of such prolonged anxiety about his personal safety for so long, and it made him restless and almost despairing at his situation. Getting well and truly lost in the forest didn't help at all. At last he'd hunkered down in a bush for the night, listening for tell-tale sounds.
Several tense days filled with that feeling of wrongness and the odd sound of footsteps in the leaves somewhere nearby left him a nervous wreck by the end of the week. He'd tried to convince himself that they wouldn't want anything to do with a brand-new player with nothing to steal, but his darn instincts wouldn't let up, senses going haywire at all the unfamiliar surroundings in the first place.
Fighting them was out of the question. Something in their demeanor and the look of their weapons - not newbie equipment, no way - told him he would lose handily if he tried. Christ, he'd never used a sword before in his life! It was true that his experimental swings with the longsword were far more confident than he'd expected, but even if he had the ability, what did a lifelong pacifist know about looking for weak points? Going for the kill?
Therefore, it was with a heavy, shaky exhalation of relief that he made his way toward the city. It felt good to run unencumbered by the trees, with the wind in his face. Upon reaching the entrance, he slowed down and gravitated toward a genial-looking crowd gathered around some merchant stalls. It was a mix of humans, Enoch, and those not-vampires he'd forgotten the name of. But then some of the Enoch caught sight of him and glared mistrustfully, elegant winged bodies turning on him. His eyes widened slightly and he bit his lip, shuffling away in the opposite direction.
What was that all about?He wasn't about to start a fight there, anyway.
His path through the city turned into a deliberately confusing thing as he made sure no one would be able to follow him very well. Gradually, his heart started to relax and he felt calmer than he had in days, allowing the sounds of regular metropolitan society to flow around him, even if he didn't recognize the details.
At last he started to get tired again. It was time to find a place to rest. But he didn't have any money, and -
There was music coming from somewhere. He walked tentatively down a street, listening. Nothing he'd ever heard before, but it was catchy and joyful. And it sounded like people were singing in - French?
He followed the voices to their origin, a tavern very close by. Silently stepping inside, Astaroth ducked his horns clear of the doorway and moved off to the side of the crowd and listened. A pink-haired guy - with frills on the side of his face - was performing. With a puppet? He watched, spellbound. A little smile lifted his face at the sight of so many people enjoying themselves in such a simple manner.
Then he saw the Enoch woman with them, and remembered the way the others had all stared at him like he was a particularly ugly stray dog. Would she glare, too? Maybe if he stayed quiet and unobtrusive, he could join them for a while. Adjusting his sword on his back, he sat down at a table next to some exuberant locals, hoping he hadn't been noticed. All he wanted was to sit and let off some steam.
Word Count: 1002
Total Word Count: 1002
Tag:
Axey Lufasu Amaryllis Atlas