The Origin of “Base Camp”

Welcome to Base Camp

The camp was little more than a cluster of tents and stalls bunched together in defiance of their desolate surroundings. Nothing about the journey here had given him reason to expect anything bigger. He'd seen nothing but barren badlands for weeks, and the only others on the road had been fellow solitary scavengers who kept their distance. It made sense for a trip like that to end in a place like this. Still, he couldn't help feeling slightly underwhelmed. 

This was the beating heart of the new frontier? Where ancient artifacts of limitless power turned nobodies into legendary relic hunters overnight? Was this really where the magic happened? 

He stabled his cart and made his way into the center of the camp. There was only one way to find out.

"Welcome, stranger!"

The person who greeted him was the first he'd seen in several days—a slim, spritely woman quite at odds with her surroundings. He'd seen nobles in his homeland with hair less well-kept than her silver-white locks, and her ghostly skin showed no signs of overexposure to the overwhelming elements this land was known for. While her clothes were well-worn canvas and leather, everything else about her seemed comprehensively out of place—especially her brilliant violet eyes and oddly upbeat demeanor.

"Hello there… am I in the right place?"

"That depends. Where are you looking to be?"

"I'm looking for Everstone."

"Then you are! I'm Ethel. I run the market here at basecamp. What's your name?"

She extended her hand and he took it. Her grip was firm and surprisingly cold.

"Chance."

"And where are you joining us from, Chance?"

"West. About six weeks' ride from here."

"Ah, of course! Tough country, that. How was the journey?"

"Eventful." 

She smiled.

"Always is."

For some reason, he found it difficult to meet her gaze. Every time he tried, something in her eyes made him want to look away—an intensity he'd never felt before. It seemed like she could tell. 

"Well," she said, beckoning him into the nearest tent, "let me know if you see anything you like."

"Thanks." 

He'd heard rumors of Everstone's relics for years. They were most of the reason he was here, along with a string of unpaid gambling debts. Now, he finally got a look at them. 

Curious objects filled the tent. All held familiar shapes—a pickaxe, a hammer, a compass—but bore little resemblance to his mental equivalents on closer inspection. Each was made of a mysterious material somewhere between metal and ceramic and glowed with unnatural light. Their designs were strangely fluid and had no visible seams or fingerprints of creation.

"See anything you like?"

He eyed the pickaxe and extended his hand.

"May I?"

Ethel nodded.

"Please!"

The axe appeared to be a single solid piece of the mysterious material. It was remarkably light in his hand. Holding it, he suddenly found himself filled with strange energy. He hadn't had a good night's sleep in months, and now he felt like he could do just about anything he set his mind to. 

He looked to Ethel. Her smile grew.

"Popular item, that one. There was another Westerner in here earlier, had his eye on it."

"What does it do?"

"Are you a miner, Chance?"

He shrugged.

"I've heard it comes with the territory of being here."

"Then the question is, really, what can't it do?"

Unsure what to make of this answer, he returned the axe to the table. His eyes moved over to the hammer. 

It initially appeared to be a single piece of the material, but up close in his hand, he saw it was really an intricate system of tiny components far smaller than anything the finest artisans in his homeland could ever hope to craft. Again, a strange feeling crept over him. Looking around the room, he felt a newfound understanding of his surroundings. How the nearest table could do with a few new nails, how his pants needed mending, how his cart's axels needed realigning, and how he might fix it all as quickly and efficiently as possible. 

"Not as much interest in that piece. Not many tradesmen in these parts," said Ethel. "But with a hammer like that, you won't need one." 

Again, he returned the item to the table, and his eyes moved to the compass.

If the hammer had felt intricate, the compass was beyond complex. It hummed with unseen energy in his hand, and again he felt a curious new feeling moving up his arm. He suddenly knew, with absolute certainty, that if he proceeded just half a day's ride from here, he would come upon a trove of relics just like this one. 

He had no need for this strange woman's wares. He could easily find his own with the knowledge the compass had just given him. He returned the device to the table and stepped back toward the entrance to the tent. The merchant's smile was unmoved. 

"Not in a shopping mood today?"

Chance nodded.

"Maybe later." 

He stepped out of the tent, reached back into his mind to retrieve the compass's directions, and found nothing.  

"Missing something?"

He turned back to the tent to find Ethel smiling wider than ever. 

"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that. Come back when you've got something to trade!"