really, didn''t like what I saw, or what I had to do: at the end of the day I had rolled with the punches and I was still alive.
....
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Name: John
Title: Summoned Hero*
Class: None
General Skills:
<blockquote>
Language of men - Lvl 10 - Passive
Identify Lvl 5 - Active
</blockquote>
Special Skills:
<blockquote>
Hide Presence Lvl 2 - Active
Void Walker Lvl 1 - Passive
Blessing of Forgotten Gods Lvl 5 - Passive
</blockquote>
Status:
<blockquote>
Vitality: 17
Endurance: 22
Strength: 19
Dexterity: 21
Intelligence: 45
Wisdom: 52
</blockquote>
Health: 50/50
Stamina: 19/20
Mana: 100/100
I had a walking stick, and a dagger. My stats were proven- no. Proven is the wrong word: my stats were field-tested to be lacking when it came to combat.
If there was a monster... well, if Gregory was already dead, that''s when I would have to cut the cord. That''s when I would have to retreat, and come up with a plan so I didn''t die too. I was simply not equipped to be fighting monsters. Or much of anything, for that matter. There was no way that was going to end well for me.
With this in mind, I crept forward.
My motions were slow, careful... painstakenly cautious, not to make a single noise. Not to break my concentration, and let [Hide Presence] slip for even a second. I followed the red covered grass.
I''d never gone off the trail before.
The grass was thick, and my experiences in the forest had left me gun-shy. Staying out in the open felt safer. On the beaten path of dirt and stone, or in the clearing, beside Gregory''s small home. Frankly, I''d never ventured beyond view of the cliff. Which probably seems silly, but there was something instinctively worrisome, about letting line of sight drop.
Once the tall strands of green began to surround me, I felt a sense of paranoia. A worrying feeling settled on my shoulders like a heavy weight, reminding me that something might be just out of sight, and that I''d never react in time to stop it.
Surrounded as I was, with only that small break in the leaves behind me leading back to the path, I felt fear creeping in.
There was no way I was alone.
I was certain of this.
Something was out there.
My walking staff hardly seemed sufficient. The feeble wood would be a poor defense if there was a true predator among the stalks. I didn''t really know much about the monsters in this world, but I knew they were hardly something to be trifled with. When referenced in conversation, they were almost always suggested to be a significant danger.
So, you can imagine my surprise, when I found Gregory.
Alive.
Bloodied badly, he was clutching his shoulder in agony. Barely even breathing, he wheezed out slow, painful puffs of air. One by one, they bubbled up. It was only when I knelt down beside him, that he even noticed me, and as much as I wished [Hide Presence] was that effective, I knew it wasn''t.
"We need to get you out of here." I whispered to him. "I''ll try to carry you."
He shook his head.
"The town is close." I insisted. "We can make it."
He shook his head again, and even doing so, I could tell it took tremendous effort. Then, between painful gasps, he whispered something.
I will say this, here and now.
Gregory was far from a young man, but he was a being of pure grit.
Pure grit.
What his Strength was, I do not know: but the number was to be envied by anyone. Of muscle and sinew, built upon a foundation of work, and more work. Of rowing heavy oars, with or against current. Of pulling in nets, or drawing up traps. Of walking up steep stairs along cliffs, with a boat resting on his shoulders, just to make it home.
So, when he barely managed to whisper three simple words back to me: I took them for what they were.
"Fly, you fool."