When Maia wakes up, she has a few routines she likes to go through. She has to brush her hair… Although this current affliction has made it a little wiry. It never falls out, but it does feel demoralizing to brush, brush and brush and still feel how dry and uneven it can get. One of the few good sides had been that it didn’t grow in this state; maybe the very essence of death stifled growth. Once she felt passingly satisfied with her hair she’d wash her face if she could. Usually off of river water during this journey, or from a waterskin, but the fort had even spared them a bucket of water in their tent just for personal hygiene.

  Staring in her reflection made her look into the eyes of a pallid, shy young woman. She’d gotten used to this sight, even if it wasn’t her. She was not a vain woman by any means… Had the effects of her god’s love been just this, she could live with it. She’d mourn the loss of her lively skin and her hair, but she’d live.

  But Homer had told her that a dead eagle y in front of their tent, fallen from the skies likely due to her influence. And the grass on the ground inside the tent had started to dry. How long before Homer would start compining of aching bones, how long until Aymanah’s feathers would fall off? How long until buildings crumbled if she stood inside them?

  As it stands, getting depressed and gloomy over the potential ramifications of her situation was a part of the mourning routine too.

  Once she stepped outside the smell of cooked bird hit her nose and wiped away at least *some* of that gloom. Homer was seated in front of a campfire, having prepared the fallen eagle for consumption as he rotated it on a skewer, with Aymanah lurching on that shoulderpad they had become so fond of. The two were bickering about how Aymanah felt about eating bird, which in turn led to dry commentary about how awkward Homer must feel about eating pigs…

  … Which she could only assume to be some sort of harpy comparison. Humans were like pigs???

  Maia quietly sat with her companions, hugging her legs against her chest without interjecting into the conversation. Aymanah and Homer seemed to have bonded quickly, and she was gd to see the old man get some company that *wasn’t* a gloomy death-bringer.

  “We were discussing our travel pns before the bird brain got antsy.”

  “Shut up, old man.”

  “We could keep walking… Or we could secure some transportation. It’d be faster. Get us into the capital early enough that we can try and figure out how to actually approach Death during the ceremony. Have you talked to her since? Can she leave the procession to come to you?”

  Maia shakes her head, expression dour.

  “I’ve mentioned it- we haven’t met face to face, but… How to say it, it’s like… Our dreams connect. It’s short information changing. Her and Life are bound to the altar for the ceremony, and unlike Life, her presence is actively toxic to the world. Imagine what I am going through but more powerful. Antithetical to the fabric of existence. We will have to reach her.”

  Homer rubs his chin thoughtfully.

  “Could try and become local heroes in a short time. They let important people meet the gods, to present their dead to be brought back unto this world. Most of it’s rich fucks of no importance, but occasionally someone sys a city-threatening monster and gains the honor… So we ought to look into fast transportation so we’ll have time to earn the right.”

  Aymanah scrapes their talon against Homer’s shoulderpad.

  “I could just airdrop you over to Death.”

  “And get all the guards to skewer her at the same time? Might as well kill her here and be done with it.”

  That sort of morbid humor would’ve made Maia cry months ago, but now she just quietly chuckles and shakes her head.

  “Now’s not my time to go, I think.”

  “Hear that? So no improvised airdrops right to her arms.”

  “Well, you’re going to fight War…” Aymanah scrapes their talon again. “Wouldn’t that let Maia get close?”

  Homer’s expression becomes a little more serious. “If I died, maybe.” When I die, he means. “... But to challenge the gods is audacious. The priesthood may deny it. I’d like to have a clearer pn, instead of relying on the good graces of those present.”

  Indeed- this journey would leave a sour taste in their mouths if they were denied at the very end. Death and Life were gods, obviously, but the priesthood- from what she had heard- could still work around them instead of with them.

  “So, I think-”

  Maia’s cut off by he sound of-

  “DOSHAHAHA!”

  “GUHAHAHA!”

  Incredibly obnoxious ughter, as two men saunter over to their little camp. One has spiky hair, one long and ft. One has red tinted leather armor, the other bck tinted leather armor.

  “Well, well, well! If it isn’t the corpse-woman and his giant oaf! And you’ve gotten a pet bird too, how cute!” The spiky one cackles some more.

  “Too shocked for words, corpse-woman?! Guhahaa, I bet you’d never see us again!”

  Aymanah, Maia and Homer all stare at these two intruders with different levels of bafflement on their faces. Aymanah has absolutely zero clue who they are, but Maia and Homer- also don’t really have any clue who these two are. Homer slowly leans over, speaking quietly.

  “Old friends…?”

  Maia shakes her head.

  “I had no friends before I left my hovel, you know that-”

  Their hushed whispering continues for a while, the two newcomers staring them down until the red one finally bursts into a spiel of anger.

  “Do you- Do you not remember?! Back at the tavern! You got accosted by us! The hell brothers, mercenaries extraordinaire!”

  Maia bndly stares… And then Homer snaps his fingers.

  “Oh, right! The two dung dollops who I almost smacked together for accosting a lonely little dy! You two ran off crying, harharhar.”

  “We did not! We retreated, so as to not cause a bar fight!” Or so the bck one cims. “And we took a job guarding a merchant caravan to get back at you! Unlike you losers, we didn’t have to go through the range! We got horses!”

  Back when Homer and Maia had first joined up, there *had* been thoughts of linking up with a merchant caravan, but… None had been present when they left, and Maia’s quest was so urgent that waiting for a potential caravan was seen as too big of a risk. Turns out if they’d waited for a few days… Well. They wouldn’t have met Aymanah in that case.

  “Did you just come here to dump exposition about how you two got here, then, or did you want me to actually crack your skulls together this time?” Homer’s already turned his attention back to the roasting bird. The hell brothers seem annoyed at the btant disrespect to their name.

  “Our employer, trademistress Euclid, has a problem that needs solving… Guhahaha. We were going around scouting the potential competition- since she wants to hire any adventurer present- and we ran into you rejects instead!”

  “There’s no other serious competition here either, doshahahaha! The extra reward from trademistress Euclid is basically ours!”

  The two brothers kept yapping and ughing for a while before finally wandering off, leaving the three to stare down their bird with serious expressions.

  “So, we’re obviously finding this Euclid, right?”

  Maia nods wordlessly.

  Aymanah also does so.

  … first though, they ought to eat the bird. It ended up being delicious, and the trio started exploring the fort- not that it was a very long trip. Like fifteen minutes. As it turned out, Euclid had her tent set up at the very opposite end of the fort.

  Unlike her hirelings, Euclid herself seemed like a refined older woman. She wore a robe Maia knew to be a ‘kimono’, from the very eastern end of the continent. Her parents didn’t know much of those nds, but they knew what most did; foreigners with sharper ears and longer lifespans, practicing a lifestyle of humble asceticism.

  Someone of that persuasion becoming a merchant struck her as odd, but she had to admit her own ignorance: maybe stereotypes her parents had taught her were simply wrong.

  “You do certainly look like you’d be capable…”

  What Euclid meant was that Homer looked capable. Maia looked outright unassuming at best, hideous at worst. The only thing that’d even paint her as an adventurer was her healing staff. And Aymanah was a harpy, which earned her one gnce and then nothing more.

  “... The problem is a Trollhog on the path ahead. Normally they’re not a nuisance. Wild hogs with the tendency to regenerate just like trolls, local to the area. But this one’s gone through a bizarre deviation. It’s horns have grown so much they’ve curved and penetrated its brain, which then stimutes the regeneration, which has made the horns grow inwards more… And so on. The pumping hormones have made it grow disgustingly rge- almost twice the size of that dashing gentleman there- and it’s making the passage of trade troublesome.”

  Huh. How ironic that even this sort of idle work made them deal with something reted to death and defying it. Maia’s not sure if this is destiny or just a very un-funny coincidence.

  “And there’s no way to try and daze the beast so that the horns can be removed…?” Her meek suggestion earned a look of utter puzzlement from Euclid, before those eyes softened.

  “As kind of a solution as that would be, no. The tusks are buried deep inside the cranium. If you removed them, the regeneration couldn’t keep up and would finally kill the beast. The best you can do for it is to kill it quickly. Destroying the heart or brain should be enough.”

  Maia sighed: yeah, she knew the answer would sound like that, but she felt obligated to try. The tea tasted a little less sweet now, but she kept quietly sipping while Homer took the reins of the conversation. He’s the mercenary type after all.

  “And you want to get rid of it for everyone, right? And your own trade, of course… Aye. Me and my friends could get rid of it. We don’t want much in return either. Your caravan can likely spare a few fast horses and some gold for weary travelers in exchange for a big favor like this, no?”

  He’s lowballing the price, and she knows it. A job like this is worth more than just horses and some gold… But they don’t really have any need to haggle. Homer is going to the capital to die, Maia needs no gold, and Aymanah- do harpies use money? she’s never asked and now she’s wondering about that too. They don’t protest, at least.

  “Hm. Yes, I could let go of some horses… We emptied some of the caravan here, after all, and so there’s a carriage or two we don’t need. I could throw that in too so you have somewhere to sleep while on the road. Your price is lower than what the Hell Brothers ask for, alongside the other adventurers that have asked about the job. Obviously I can’t just *sign* you exclusive rights to killing it, but… I do hope you brave adventurers are the ones who do the deed.”

  There was a little more back and forth- mostly Homer and Euclid negotiation about the exact amount of gold and the condition of the carriage- but the motley crew was out of her tent soon and back to theirs, with Homer sharpening his bde and Aymanah stretching their wings. Seems like they were all preparing for a bit of a hog hunt.

  After their mountain climbing adventure, Maia was gd to experience something lower stakes, especially when it’d bring them closer to their actual goals… But as she sat down, she found her gaze turning southward. There was nothing there but a wall. But even beyond that, somewhere in the distance, it’s like- her gaze was being summoned.

  Is Death out there somewhere?Her head shook, and she refocused herself, deciding to shine the crystal at the tip of her staff instead. They’d leave in a few hours and ideally return before nightfall, proof of their hog sying at hand. Maia ought to look at this as a religious duty; bringing death to an animal denied it regurly.

  That’d please Her too, she’s sure.