To Prof''s utter surprise, he managed to get back to his wagon without falling down the – unsecured – mountainside. The Goblin had one thing right: people with a high enough Perception, Agility, and Dexterity could manage to stay alive on a mountain trail even without guard rails. A more evil and Darwinian society could probably make this into a challenge of natural selection – those, who managed to not fall to their deaths, earned the right to procreate.


    To Prof''s continued utter surprise, the wagon was still where he left it, including his traveling companions, but excluding any trace of recent carnage, orgies, or other "fun" things. Just to be sure, he refused to ask about their day. When there is a chance, you wouldn''t like the answer, you shouldn''t ask questions. It saves on headaches and medical bills.


    “So, girls, according to my map, the next town sits on the border, and after that, we will leave Ostwaldland, and enter the Human country of Puglamento. They should be Garuli. A pity, Bianca decided to stay behind, her language Skill would have been invaluable…”


    “Missssster not ssssspeak language?” Sharpclaw inquired.


    “Well, I put 30% into the Skill, that should be about enough to get through the country.”


    “Of course, your awesome, fabulous, and magnificent adventuring master is highly qualified in the language department too!"


    “Oh yeah, I remember you knowing Gerulian. How good are you?”


    “It’s an incredible level of excellence! I’m almost at the level of a native! No, even better!”


    “Numbersssss pleasssse.”


    “Well, it’s on 40%. But! That is a third higher than what Prof has! I’m the most excellent Vampire in all the Greenskin lands!”


    Mini’s [Math] was implacable, as it always was – the party was lucky to have a math-wiz with a whopping 80% in the Skill! While Prof hated to agree, Mini was most likely indeed the most excellent bloodsucker around – of course, not counting tax collectors and lawyers, but those were a completely different species.


    Also, with two-thirds of the party being (barely) able to order a beer and ask about the weather, what could possibly go wrong? After all, they only wanted to cross the country, not participate in academic discussions or something. Minute intricacies of the language probably wouldn''t need to be understood.


    Hopefully.


    To Mini’s complete satisfaction, they reached to promised town not much after noon the next day.


    To Mini''s utter dissatisfaction, the local pleasure provider community only consisted of a lone freelancer and a couple of folks, who did the providing as a side job.


    The town itself wasn''t much to write home about: the usual but-ugly Greenskin living bunkers and no real sights to see (although Prof''s booklet insisted upon it having multiple beautiful statues, Prof just found modern art). As usual with Greenskin settlements, it didn''t even have town walls; however, if the whole town consisted of bunkers, why would the locals need town walls in the first place?


    On the other hand – and that was consistent with other Greenskin settlements – the roads were reasonably clean, full of very polite and excellent Greenskin, but with a marked absence of beggars and such, Prof associated with medieval cities. Or basically every place, more than two Humans made their home.


    As a border town, there were more foreigners present too. Picking them out was quite easy: if one didn’t have green skin, he was almost certainly a foreigner.


    The party''s first priority was not to see the sights or find accommodation – Prof would have started with those – but to dump Mini at the pleasure provider to take the edge off. While Prof at first felt sorry for the female with buyable affection (he doubted, one person would be enough for Mini, without being run rugged), he soon found out, that the Hobgoblin was actually a Redcap.


    That realization lead to interesting questions. For example, what one had to do in that particular line of work to become a Redcap, or what kind of Skill it was associated with, or who would teach the other new things, or who would be…


    “Oh, hey, Sharpclaw! Look! A modern art statue!” pointing at random things and exclaiming obviously worked even if the one pointing wanted to distract himself.


    According to the inscription, the statue was a depiction of the crossing of Main Road and Side Street Number 10. Conveniently, it sat at the corner of both roads.


    “Whatssss thisssss?" Since Sharpclaw still couldn''t speak, read, or understand Greenskinian, it was on Prof to explain the meaning and intention behind the statue.


    “It’s a representation of the excellence of having two roads meet at right angles, just in the right place to erect a statue commemorating the excellence of two roads meeting at right angles, just in the right place to…”


    “Greensssskinsss sssstupid. Sssstatue ugly.”


    “Yeah, I have seen better. You don''t have roadside statues at home?" Prof just remembered Sharpclaw didn''t exactly tell them much about her home. There were tales, mostly how she caught fish this big and that huge, how she disarmed extremely difficult traps, or how successfully she hid from higher-class Reptiles. Prof had a suspicion, that most of the tales were influenced by Sharpclaw having Big Talker, and so she most likely embellished them at least a little bit.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Sharpclaw once told Wolfgang, how she defeated a Level 12 Boss Red Elf all on her own back in the Valley, after all. Prof was reasonably sure, that Shinead wasn''t such high Level or a Boss, and the Kobold didn''t fight another Elf.


    However, there was a kernel of truth to the story. In the end, Sharpclaw defeated the much higher-level Shinead all on her own. Well, stabbed a sleeping Elf to death, but details…


    “We no have roadssss. Reptilessss mosssstly live under sssssea.”


    “Mostly? And when not?”


    “Live on land.”


    “All right, but you don’t have statues?”


    “Reptilesss have sssstatuessss. In palaccccessss of ruling Reptilessss. Wassssted on lower Reptilessss.”


    The Reptiles obviously had an interesting society, and probably interesting cities and architecture. If only they didn''t live undersea, Prof would have put visiting on his list.


    Well, he could always learn, how to breathe underwater. That accursed rulebook listed a few Perks in that direction, so there were probably such in reality too…


    With Mini in the safe care of the Redcap, they had time to kill – but nothing really interesting to do.


    With most of their shopping already taken care of, Prof decided to follow the time-honored pastime, every tourist did, when visiting a new and exciting settlement – looking for the closest bar to get wasted for (hopefully) less, than at home. Of course, Prof couldn’t get stiff drunk, since no one else would (or could) drive the wagon, but he studied the rulebook in detail.


    There was a whole supplementary rule set covering drinking and its influence on Skills and Stats. Strangely, that piece of optional rule was actually exactly how Arkadia worked, as far as the Locals knew. According to Mini, there were scientists, who did some experimentation and distributed their findings for the prosperity of the masses.


    Be as it may, because of the self-sacrifice of dedicated scientists and willing subjects, Prof could figure out, how much exactly he could drink to get happy but still able to direct his (slightly drunken) Hogs along the well-maintained cobbled road to a very good place.


    “Let’s see… Endurance of 14… [Party] at khmmm… 25%... No extra Perks… Normal size… That would be line 5, column D… Not to get slightly drunk that would be… Oh, wait, my trinket… so… Dear provider of beverages, I would like half a liter of your… not-so-overpriced but still excellentish… red wine.”


    “Ssssharpclaw will walk…”


    “Look, Sharpclaw, the rules clearly state, I can drink that much without risking any deductions to Stats and Skills! Besides, I''m quite certain, Mini will be occupied for a time, I will sober up till she is done. Nothing could go wrong! Most likely."


    “Misssster hangssss out too much with crazzzzy vampire female.”


    Prof, as a gentleman, naturally respected the opinions of others – and as a perfectly normal Human didn''t let others'' opinions stand in the way of doing what he wanted. Besides, the supplementary rules were created in a scientific way, and as such were written in stone. Why would someone invent bogus rules, claiming, they were scientifically proven, when they could be disproven by the most basic counter-experiment?


    Most civilized places had bars sitting on every other corner, after all…


    In the end, Prof managed to slightly miscalculate – Mini took more time than anticipated, and as it is widely known, one unit of booze rarely was content on its own. Mostly, they got scared, and demanded the company of others of their kind, so they could bravely face adversity together.


    In this instance, Prof decided to find out, why Greenskins were exclusively making sweet wine, and started a scientific investigation. For that, he had to taste the selection, the bar was providing. Being a responsible person, he did the tasting one-eighth of a liter each time, but even so, he finished the bar''s selection quite fast.


    As it was a Greenskin bar, and Greenskins were notoriously excellent, the barmaid got in contact with another bar right next door with a different selection and continued to supply Prof''s experiment and investigation.


    “Ssseeeee, Sharpclaw… Thisssss one haaasss a mellow taste, with theeee aftertaaassste of a meadow in the sssssspring…”


    “Tasssstesss like cow dung?” Of course, Sharpclaw didn’t understand the vocabulary of a true sommelier. Neither did Prof, but at least he was able to fake it.


    “Accctuaalllyyy… Yeah… But sweet cow dung. Next!”


    Not only was every last wine in the second bar sweet too, but so was the selection of the third.


    “Dear provider of excellent wines. Could you answer a scientific question for me? Why have Greenskins such a propensity for sweet wines?” at least Prof intended the sentence to sound like that. In reality, it came out a little bit more slurred. And partly in Bergian. The barmaids – and a few random onlookers – understood the meaning despite Prof’s worst effort.


    “We haven’t found out, how to make hot wine.”


    “It’s because of the grapes. The types we have only give sweet wine.”


    “We can store sweet wine longer.”


    “No, you are all wrong! It is a well-known fact, that sweet wine has a soothing effect after you eat too spicy food!"


    “That is just part of it. I have tried Pinkskin wine, and a true Greenskin just can''t hold that dry stuff. Sweet wine is in our blood, so to say!" at this time it was safe to assume, that Prof''s wine still had traces of blood in it, not the other way around, so he was too drunk to argue genetics.


    Well, even sober, he wouldn’t be able to do that – not even counting his more-or-less locked knowledge. Even back on Earth, he had a hazy recollection of some double helix and colorful plastic thingies on the model, and how procreating with the wrong person would give the offspring strange traits.


    “Are you saying, I’m not a true Greenskin? I happen to like those dry Pinkskin wines! How un-excellent!”


    To Prof''s chagrin, the discussion devolved into a shouting match, about what true Greenskinian was – that included, after the first minute, music too. Mythrill already made it to the town, but most inhabitants were taunt adherents to Boonies and Borderlands, and the vocal Clay, Granite, and Mythrill minorities mostly kept their heads down.


    By the time a very satisfied-looking and slightly limping Mini found them, the Greenskins started to organize a spontaneous open discussion. And Prof was stiff drunk.


    “Oh, how sweet! Did you make a riot just for me? You are the best!"