《Ninetoes: The Villain Chronicle - LitRPG》 1. Escapism for NPCs Stonebarrow Region, 2301 AC The hobgoblin grinned, his incisors creasing his bottom lip, giving his smile a dangerous look. He¡¯d done everything just as he¡¯d been taught and now his first command would be his first victory. He studied the scene before him to be sure. A pit had been dug across the road, ten-foot-deep but not too wide, so that they wouldn¡¯t have to dig out any carts or wagons. The bottom of the pit was lined with fire hardened stakes, not enough to kill but enough to slow down their prey. His squad of Dakhec Druul scouts were all well-hidden, having dug fox holes, covered their armour in muck and wrapped their weapons in cloth to stop them making noise. Every one of them was trained with the bow and had their weapons ready for their targets: the four hidden on what would become their prey¡¯s flank had orders to strike down the casters and healers; his strongest fighters were concealed at the back, with orders to rush anyone at the front or, even better, who had fallen into the pit; and finally, the main meat of his squad, hidden nearby, flanking both sides of the track. Their orders were simple, fire two shots quickly and then join the melee, overwhelming their quarry. And now, the hobgoblin could see their first catch: four Adventurers on horseback, so busy arguing incoherently that they had no idea they were about to spring his trap! ¡°You are fucking bonkers mate! Episode One is a pile of old shite!¡± one of them exclaimed. ¡°Nah, mate, nah! The choreography is first rate and Darth Maul is kick ass!¡± argued a magic user towards the back. ¡°I¡¯m gonna have to agree with Tony here maaaa...!¡± squealed the healer type as he fell into the pit trap. The hobgoblin didn¡¯t even have to give the order, so well trained were his squad. Four arrows shot out of the treeline on either side of the Adventurers¡¯ flanks, slicing easily through the robes of the caster at the back, immediately felling him. At the front, four more goblinoids rushed the pit, two of them quickly dropping rocks onto the poor fool who had fallen in, with an audible crunch of breaking bone. The other two flanked the human fighter at the front. He was wearing full plate and the hobgoblin smiled at the thought of the other riches this party must hold. The group around the hobgoblin leader sprang into action perfectly, firing two shots into the plate-wearing human. Shamefully, most of these had little effect, bouncing harmlessly off the thick armour but at least two of them found their mark and the Adventurer grunted in pain. Surging forward the rest of the squad joined the fighting. That was when everything just, well, fell apart. The Adventurers recovered quickly from their surprise. The caster at the rear worked her arcane mischief and the four scouts hidden on the flank suddenly glowed with a bright light, marking their location instantly. She then set about shooting them with bolts of fire from her staff while a magical shield surrounded her, letting nothing else through. The plated warrior uttered a quiet prayer and his wounds healed. After that, he seemed untouchable as he swung his greatsword in wide arcs, each strike a killing blow. In less time that it had taken for the hobgoblin to gain the advantage of surprise his forces had been destroyed. Surveying the scene, the hobgoblin calmed himself, the battle wasn¡¯t lost just yet. If he analysed the situation without panic, he knew he would be able to find a solution. Taking a moment, his brain working though the problem quickly, he called out his orders, ¡°everyone, focus on the caster, that shield won¡¯t last forev¡­ ah!¡± Searing pain shot up his back and the hobgoblin realised his mistake, he¡¯d forgotten about the fourth Adventurer, the sneaky looking halfling! The same halfling that now had jammed a dagger in his kidney. By Druul the pain was incredible! And, as his vision started to go black, the goblin witnessed the utter destruction of his first command and heard the words that would change his life forever. ¡°Hey! Don¡¯t let that one die, I have a plan for him.¡± *** Portsmouth 2016 ¡°What¡¯s the point Tony? He¡¯s just part of a random encounter, he¡¯s not going to know anything.¡± ¡°Listen Dave, if I¡¯m going to increase my Intimidation score, I¡¯ve gotta practice on something.¡± Looking at the fifth person sitting at the table Tony directed his next words to Mike, their DM. ¡°I chop the hobgoblin¡¯s little toe off,¡± this said with a vicious grin. Mike often wondered at the sanity and intelligence of his players and considered again whether or not it was really worth playing with them. He decided yet again to try and reason with Tony. ¡°Usually, when you torture someone, in game I mean, obviously, you ask them a question before going straight to dismemberment.¡± Mike anticipated that he would be ignored but he felt he should at least try. Showing his teeth in a grimace, Tony tried again, ¡°I chop off the hobgoblin¡¯s toe!¡± ¡°Right...¡± Mike sighed, ¡°You chop off the hobgoblin¡¯s toe, he now has only nine toes. Happy?¡± ¡°Is anyone going to bring me back from the dead?¡± requested Dave. ¡°Well, no mate. You¡¯re the healer. Dunno what you¡¯re doing falling in a pit trap, that was a total noob move mate,¡± responded Tony. Mike seriously didn¡¯t know why he invited Tony, he really was an utter prick. Dave, valiantly, tried again, ¡°But you¡¯re a Paladin Tony. If you¡¯re quick enough you can stabilise my character with Lay on Hands.¡± Tony smiled wolfishly and looked towards the DM, opening his mouth to speak. ¡°Sir Tarquin, third of his name and Paladin of Starm, The Mighty God of War¡­¡± pausing for dramatic effect, he turned his gaze, locking his eyes on Dave, ¡°¡­loots the corpses,¡± he finished, chuckling to himself. ¡°Oh, burn Dave!¡± laughed Daphne, Tony¡¯s girlfriend and the other reason Mike didn¡¯t like Tony. If Tony was a prick, then Daphne was a¡­ well, she was definitely no fun to play with either. Dave¡¯s face dropped, his eyes feverishly scanning his character sheet for something to save Podrick, his dwarven Cleric. ¡°What if I offered you my Gem of Storing, Tony? Or a thousand gold pieces, or my potions?¡± he pleaded. ¡°I don¡¯t think you heard me right mate,¡± Tony¡¯s grin was turning seriously nasty, ¡°I said, ¡®I loot the corpses¡¯, all the corpses Dave, starting with your Cleric¡¯s gold!¡± This showed his excitement. This was what Tony played for, getting one over on the DM and the other players. And this was the moment Mike made his decision: after tonight he wasn¡¯t playing with Tony or Daphne again. But, seeing Dave¡¯s bottom lip start to tremble, Mike realised he¡¯d have to step in, now. ¡°Right, and that¡¯s the end of the campaign. Well done, you, er¡­ beat the evil hobgoblin warlord and have saved the region. Great work guys. I¡¯ll um¡­ contact you about when the next game¡¯s starting.¡± ¡°What? This is bullshit Mike, that can¡¯t be the end of the campaign?¡± Tony¡¯s tone became aggressive. ¡°We¡¯re gonna keep playing, Dave will just have to roll up another character.¡± That was it. Mike wasn¡¯t going to take this. He wasn¡¯t going to be bullied in his own home, certainly not by someone whose dream was to deliver Chinese food and smoke pot his whole life! Taking a deep breath to steady his breathing, Mike planned out his next words carefully. ¡°Tony, Daphne... you¡¯re both fucktards!¡± he announced to the stunned silence of the players, ¡°and I¡¯ve had it with your shit. You¡¯re right, the campaign¡¯s not over but your part in it is. You¡¯re not welcome in my house or in a game I run anymore.¡± By this point Tony was on his feet, leaning menacingly over the table. Mike considered that perhaps he could have said all this after they¡¯d left, maybe by text? But, it had just felt... right. In the silence, the sound of Tony¡¯s grinding teeth sounded like a rockfall. His face turned an unpleasant shade of puce, ¡°Daphne, get our shit, we¡¯re leaving.¡± Daphne, who was in a state of shock, was slow to act. ¡°For fuck sake you dippy tart! I said get our shit!¡± screamed Tony and with that he stormed from the room and, wrenching the front door open, left. Daphne quickly grabbed her stuff and followed, neither of them bothering to shut the door behind them. After a moment, Mike got out of his chair, crossed the room and closed the door, making sure he locked and bolted it. Coming back into the dining room he slumped back into his chair and took a deep, calming breath, realising that this was the first time he¡¯d breathed since his last words. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ hell Mike!¡± exclaimed Dave. ¡°Really, Mike. I¡¯ve been waiting for you to do that since that thing in Pamor.¡± Jack, the final member of his gaming group, was normally as quiet as the characters he played. He was a great player too: always planned his moves to perfection, striking only when and where his Rogue could do the most damage. He worked for the MOD and Mike was pretty convinced that Jack was actually a spy. ¡°So, does that mean we¡¯re not playing anymore?¡± asked Dave timidly. Dave was the newest player to Mike¡¯s table. He was polite and kind and hadn¡¯t so much chosen to play a Cleric as had been bullied into it by Tony. What he¡¯d really wanted to play was a Paladin. ¡°I have a couple of colleagues that seemed keen to play. I held off inviting them while Tony and Daphne were still part of the party but now see no reason why I should not, with your consent of course Mike?¡± offered Jack. ¡°Please do Jack, please do,¡± the tight feeling in Mike¡¯s chest relaxed. ¡°Jack. Do you think they¡¯d mind if I played a Paladin for my next character?¡± requested Dave. ¡°I¡¯m sure that¡¯ll be fine. They, like me, seem to favour more subtle characters.¡± Dave grinned, ¡°in that case Mike, is the hobgoblin leader still alive?¡± ¡°Er, yeah. Why?¡± Mike had an intuition he knew where this was going but he thought he¡¯d give Dave the opportunity to explain. ¡°I... I wanted to use the hobgoblin to make my next character. Is there still time to roll stats?¡± Dave¡¯s face was beaming, his voice quivering with excitement. ¡°Dave, it¡¯s only half seven. We have loads of time left.¡± ¡°Right, cool.¡± Dave grabbed a handful of six-sided dice and Mike handed him a blank character sheet. ¡°Ok, so first, is Strength, right?¡± ¡°Yep, rolling in order, Agility, Endurance, Intelligence, Wisdom and finally Charisma. Here, give me your sheet and I¡¯ll write them down as you go. Oh, did you have a name in mind?¡± ¡°Yeah, I um, thought it¡¯d be cool if I called him Ninetoes. To sort of put two fingers up to the Paladin who made him that way.¡± Mike grinned, he liked Dave¡¯s thinking, ¡°Okay, start rolling buddy!¡± ¡°Cool, so first is¡­ nine. Nuts, not a great start but I could use Agility weapons. Next, thirteen, okay better but not great. Endurance is twelve. Balls, but he¡¯ll have a racial bonus of plus one so thirteen, still not epic for a Paladin. Int¡¯s next, eighteen! Shit. Wisdom is fifteen and Charisma, this is the important one, seven! Oh crap.¡± Dave looked disheartened. ¡°Hey, with the racial Int bonus he¡¯d have nineteen, he¡¯d make a good Wizard with those stats.¡± Mike tried to bring back Dave¡¯s enthusiasm. ¡°A hobgoblin Wizard? Nah, if it¡¯s okay, I¡¯d just like to make a totally new character.¡± ¡°Of course, mate. Whatever you like, let¡¯s just get on with it and there might be some time to play tonight.¡± With those words, Mike stuffed the hobgoblin¡¯s character sheet, half-filled in, into his dungeon master¡¯s folder. *** Many people think they know the story of how the idea for Velcro was first imagined. About how in 1941 a Swiss hunter noticed something attached to his trousers, looked at it under a microscope, and then Bob¡¯s your uncle, Fanny¡¯s your aunt. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. But in reality, or at least the version of it we exist in, they would be wrong. Actually, two years earlier, a mile or so north of the small, Polish town of Mlawa, a young German man, named Franz Melzl, had a very odd dream. In this dream he¡¯d witnessed, for a time, the space between this world and another and how those two worlds were bound. He¡¯d dreamed of this gap, this place between and had noticed that in a few places, strands from one place hooked themselves into the mess of strands of the other. He observed that when these hooking strands pulled, the loops would shift, vibrating with energy. Each one of these bindings was individually weak, but the more that took hold, the stronger the bond became, until those above could control those below completely. When Franz woke up, he¡¯d likened what he¡¯d seen to the burdock burrs he and his friends had played with in his youth, that they had thrown and ¡®tagged¡¯ one another with. Then, Mr Melzl was shot in the head. Because a battlefield on the Eastern Front is nowhere to contemplate the metaphysical. Now, in this place between places, some¡­ thing? Some...one, directs her attention to one of these bindings. A binding that has only just connected, but has already ceased to hum with intent. She had always been here, in this space between places and for time immemorial she had tended the bindings. They had sung such beautiful songs for such a long time. Some of the bindings seemed to hum with vibrancy, such bindings always intrigued her and so she¡¯d watch them, listening to their stories and, although she wasn¡¯t supposed to, she¡¯d even give the bindings the slightest ¡®attunement¡¯, helping them on their way. And then, with a crescendo, their songs would be spent and she would slice gently through the binding, the loop to fall and the hook to move on to create another duet. Recently, however, something had changed. The bindings all sang the same, dull tune, with little variation. Around and around the tune would go, never stopping, never changing and thus, she found herself rather useless and worse, bored. So irregularly did she notice anything to intrigue her, that a new, burgeoning song had nearly brushed right passed her. But this song had been so¡­ strong? ¡­ unique? ¡­ ugly. Rather than allow this binding to remain inert, she chose to strike, severing the link and sending both strands flailing back to their origins. The loop that fell now hummed with a new and powerful sound. Instead of collapsing into the malaise of the other lifeless tunes, it stayed above, away, alone. It did not join the refrain around it, but vibrated with its own little theme. And soon, those strands nearby began to take up this new melody. *** The hobgoblin opened its eyes and sat up, a strange sound ringing in his ears. Then, immediately, he wished he hadn¡¯t. His wounds reopened and a shock of pain sliced through him. Gingerly lying back down he decided to assess his situation more carefully. Calming his breathing, he focussed on the location of his wounds. The most obvious was the stab wound to his side, this was what was causing him the most pain. Strangely, his foot hurt like a bastard as well. He didn¡¯t remember that injury but he had been in a battle so¡­ It was strange, he¡¯d been injured before. During his training to become Dakhec Druul he¡¯d had to endure beatings, forced marches and prolonged periods of fasting. But the pain he was experiencing in his side was much, much worse. But that wasn¡¯t what was strange, rather it was that he seemed to be able to block the pain out of his mind by sheer force of will and his mind was as clear as ever: if anything, it felt clearer, quicker even. He understood then and there, that if he remained calm and considered his situation carefully, he could come up with a solution that would keep him alive. His first priority was to get a better idea of his surroundings and take stock of his available resources. With this in mind, he considered how best to raise himself from the ground. He reached across his body and felt for the stab wound. Although the pain was great, the external entry wound was small, likely from a dagger, the damage must be inside. What¡¯s more, when he brought his hand in front of his face, there was only a little fresh blood on his fingers, probably from when he sat up; the rest was dried flakes. Good, that meant he could risk a little more movement. Rolling slowly onto his front, he brought his knees under himself and, keeping his back as straight as possible, lifted himself up to a kneeling position. His foot hurt like crazy as it scrapped along the ground but didn¡¯t appear to be bleeding badly. Taking a moment, he drew a breath in deeply through his nose and then released the breath through his mouth, counting to ten on the exhale. This process calmed his heart rate and lessened the pain considerably. He couldn¡¯t remember ever being taught to do this but it was certainly effective. Clearly, he was some kind of genius. Opening his eyes, he surveyed the site of their ambush. Around him lay the bodies of his squad, most of them in various states of dismemberment, lying in a circle around where the plate-mailed warrior had been surrounded. Around them lay their weapons and beyond the bodies, the pit trap. Working through the problem logically he needed to get to those bodies. Each squad of Dakhec Druul had a member trained in basic healing. If he was lucky, the Adventurers would have left their meagre supplies behind, seeing such things as invaluable in comparison to their own gear. Keeping his back as straight as an arrow, the hobgoblin crawled slowly towards the corpses of his men in search of resources to keep himself alive. He¡¯d mourn his comrades later. Slowly, steadily, keeping his eyes tight shut, he covered the thirty feet between himself and, what he hoped was, his salvation. It took what seemed hours, the pain excruciating, despite his best efforts to keep his mind occupied and not dwell on it. Eventually, his hand brushed one of the bodies. Opening his eyes, he saw one of his squad. Strangely he had no memory of the hobgoblin. He recognised him as a hobgoblin under his command but couldn¡¯t picture the fellow in his past or conjure up a name. Come to think of it, apart from his training, he couldn¡¯t remember much about his own past, except his name, Ninetoes. But he¡¯d got that name because someone had chopped off his pinky toe, hadn¡¯t he? Maybe he¡¯d hit his head. Hard. One at a time, he checked over the bodies of his squad mates. As he came to the final body near the pit, this one missing its arm below the elbow and its intestines spilling out into the floor, he accepted that none of these bodies was that of the squad medic. He¡¯d have to check over the other bodies, further afield. He cringed at the thought, not sure if he had it in him to crawl that far without collapsing. It was in that moment that the clouds parted and the sun¡¯s light flashed off of something in the pit. Of course, the Healer! If the Adventurers hadn¡¯t looted his body, he was bound to have something useful on him. Ninetoes crawled to the pit¡¯s edge and looking down could see the body of the dwarven healer, still intact. Mostly. More importantly, the dwarf still had a bag strapped to his back. Now, of course, the next problem was how to get it. He¡¯d never be able to lift the body out in his current state and, even if he could fashion some sort of hook, he¡¯d never get the bag off the corpse. There was only one thing for it, he¡¯d have to go down into the pit. And that was going to hurt, like a motherfucker! Ninetoes pondered the problem for a while but he could see no way to finesse it. He crawled to the far side. When he¡¯d had his squad dig the pit, he¡¯d had them leave one end free of spikes to allow them to access and loot bodies. They¡¯d even tied a rope to a nearby tree, coiling and hiding its length in a bush. Ninetoes took a moment to find this and then prepared himself for what he knew was going to be painful. Again, he took the time to breathe deeply, centring himself. This time he found it even easier and that the pain was lessened even more. When he was as ready as he¡¯d ever be, he began his descent. He swung his legs into the pit and, taking his weight with his arms, carefully levered himself down into the pit, sliding the rope between his hands. The pain was manageable but he¡¯d need to be quick or what little strength he had left would not be enough. Just as he had that thought, the earth beneath his foot gave out and both feet slipped into open space. For a moment his whole weight was held by only his arms. And then¡­ it wasn¡¯t. He fell. Hard. And rolled into the haft of one of the stakes. The wound in his side tore open, fresh blood soaking his skin. The edges of his vision began to darken and he knew he had little time. Rolling onto his hands and knees, his side was screaming in pain. Ninetoes ignored it, he had to get to the dwarf¡¯s bag or he was done for. There, in front of him, the Healer¡¯s corpse lay face down, a fist-sized dent in his cheek where the rock had caved-in his face. Ignoring the grizzly mess, Ninetoes rolled the body over and, with no time to lose, tore the rucksack open and searched its contents by feel alone. He heard a slight clinking and his hands moved over two hard and rounded objects. He grabbed them and pulled them into the light. In his hand were two small vials, each full of dark and viscous liquids, one red and the other silver. He¡¯d heard of potions before of course, they were prime loot, prized by Adventurers everywhere, but he¡¯d never seen one and had no idea whether either was useful to him or not. Except, he did. The reddish one was a potion of healing. Without another thought, the pain making his fingers shake, he removed the cork and upended the vial into his mouth. A warm feeling spread throughout his body for the first time since he¡¯d woken up. And then he collapsed, letting the exhaustion take him. *** Some time later, Ninetoes awoke to the sound of snuffling. The sun had set, meaning he¡¯d slept for at least a few hours. For a human it would be dark but his goblinoid eyes allowed him to see in all but the blackest of nights. He checked himself over. He was stiff and uncomfortable but the potion seemed to have done its work and his wounds had healed. The snuffling came closer and looking up he saw a snout moving along the pit¡¯s edge. Then, to its left another, and another. Ninetoes didn¡¯t need to see anymore, there was only one creature those snouts could belong to: dire rats. From the sounds of it, there was a whole plague of the filthy things! Normally he¡¯d be unbothered by such creatures. The trainers would catch the beasts and use them to help condition the recruits, throwing the soldier in a cage with the creatures armed only with only a sharp blade and his wits. But, in his current state and stuck down this blasted hole, a swarm of dire rats could present a problem. Checking his hip, he realised his sword was missing from its scabbard, he must have dropped it in the fighting. No matter, the dwarf had carried a mace, he could brain them as easily as he could stab them. Ninetoes hefted the mace. It felt unnaturally heavy in his hands, he must be more tired than he thought. He must not let this fight last too long. By this time the rats¡¯ heads had crested the edge of the pit. They¡¯d been drawn by the smell of the dwarf but, finding him, they had clearly decided he was fresher prey. They were chattering to each other and to Ninetoes it seemed as though they were trying to goad each other into attacking first. Ninetoes placed his feet as he¡¯d been taught, shoulder width apart and knees bent. His first swing would be the most important, if he couldn¡¯t kill the first one quickly enough, the others would seize the opportunity to rush him. He turned, trying to keep all the dire rats within sight but it was impossible in such a tight space. As soon as he turned his back on it, the largest one pounced. It was attempting to land on his back but mistimed its jump and bounced off of his side, its claws grazing him as it scrabbled for purchase, falling awkwardly on its side. Ninetoes winced in pain but didn¡¯t miss his opportunity. Grasping the haft of the mace with both hands he swung it over his head aiming for the monster¡¯s exposed flank. As the head of the weapon cannonballed through the air, he knew his aim was true and that this would be a killing blow. Except, when it made contact, there was no satisfying crack of the creature¡¯s ribs breaking, as he¡¯d expected. Instead it seemed, his blow had barely injured the beast and within seconds it had righted itself and was preparing for a second attack. Ninetoes had no idea what could have happened; he¡¯d killed hundreds of these things and his attacks had never been so easily shrugged off, this creature was clearly something more than a simple dire rat. As he contemplated this, the beast leapt for him again, this time managing to sink its teeth into his thigh, drawing blood. He screamed with rage and backhanded the mace in the rat¡¯s hind quarters. The creature barely blinked, instead sinking its teeth deeper into his flesh. As Ninetoes blanched at the creature¡¯s strength, another successfully performed the leaping attack of the first, landing squarely on Ninetoes¡¯ shoulders and tearing off a mouthful of his ear. Again, Ninetoes screamed, only this time in fear and outrage. He was going to be killed by dire rats. Dire rats for fuck¡¯s sake! No, NO! This was not happening. Ninetoes dug deep and grabbing the first rat by the scruff of its neck he wrenched it off of his leg and threw the creature bodily across the pit. Luck was apparently on Ninetoes¡¯ side in that moment because the rat flew directly onto one of the upright stakes. The sharpened wood piercing its side and running the beast through. Emboldened by his success, Ninetoes reached up to grab the second creature but got bitten for his trouble. Wincing through his pain, Ninetoes forced his hand further into the monster¡¯s mouth, tearing his own skin as his hand grated along its teeth. Twisting his hand, he closed his fingers around the thing¡¯s bottom jaw and pulled. In pain and fear, the rat leaped away rather than be dragged by its mouth. The struggle had now become one of endurance. Who would give up first? The rat made its play and clenched its jaw down tighter. Ninetoes could feel its teeth gripping and grinding on bone and he screamed again. This seemed to have been a day of screaming and it had been a very. Long. Day. Ninetoes had had it with this shit. This morning, his first command had been destroyed by a bunch of bastard Adventurers! Then, someone had cut off his fucking toe! And now? Now he was being bested by a mob of mother fucking dire rats! Well, that. Was. It! He punched the rat in it¡¯s ratty fucking face. And then, he punched it again. And again. Repeatedly punching out all his anger at this shitty day straight into the thing¡¯s stupid. Fucking. Face! Breathing heavily, Ninetoes looked down at his mangled hand, the bloody and lifeless rat dangling limply by what was left of its face. Around him he could hear squealing. The other rats were running away, driven mad with fear. Ninetoes heaved in huge, wracking breaths. The adrenalin and exhaustion finally catching up to him. Prying the disgusting creature from his hand he surveyed the damage. His hand was ruined. Between the dire rat¡¯s teeth and his own rage, great gouges had been torn across the palm and back of his hand. Wasting no more time, Ninetoes wrestled the dwarf¡¯s pack from the corpse¡¯s shoulders and emptied its contents onto the pit¡¯s floor. There was little of immediate interest at first: some rations; a trinket or two; a pot of oil; a tinder box; a leather pouch and some rope. With his good hand Ninetoes grabbed a cake of hardtack and ripped off a huge bite, hardly chewing before swallowing and tearing off another bite. This second mouthful he chewed more sensibly, emptying the leather pouch while he did so. Perhaps the Gods were smiling on the unfortunate goblin after all. The pouch contained linen bandages and healing herbs. What¡¯s more, they were of far superior quality to those his squad had been carrying. He couldn¡¯t prepare the herbs properly one-handed, so stuffed them instead into his mouth, chewing them into a gummy wad. They tasted bitter and nasty but he could feel them working immediately. Placing the mixture onto the wound, Ninetoes carefully wrapped his hand in one of the bandages. He actually did a pretty good job of it, much better than he could ever remember doing it in training. With that sorted, he packed up the dwarf¡¯s gear and then considered its armour. The dwarf wore a breastplate of good quality, on closer inspection, almost certainly made of Ffestynian steel! It was held in place with straps at the shoulders and waist. It wouldn¡¯t be horrific to remove. After the day he¡¯d had, however, Ninetoes wasn¡¯t sure he had the energy left to try. Greed won out in the end. The breastplate was worth real gold and a goodly amount of it. Plus, if he wore it, it wouldn¡¯t feel so heavy. Still, working with only one good hand, the armour took some time to remove and he was unable to do up all the straps. The dwarf had also been a stout bastard and there was space between his stomach and the plate, but it would serve its purpose well enough. Ninetoes wasn¡¯t much looking forward to climbing the rope with his ruined hand and so instead he fashioned a set of simple steps using two of the stakes and the dwarf¡¯s corpse. Getting out was still a painful struggle, achieved only with a mixture of screaming, prayer and swearing, but he finally managed. By this time, the sun was again rearing its bright and cheerful face above the horizon. Mother fucking thing... Ninetoes took in the scene of the battle and realised that he would not be heading back to his village anytime soon. Checking over each of the bodies he noticed something strange. Each of the hobgoblins had exactly the same items on him, apart from their weapons. Twelve silver coins, fifteen copper coins and a day¡¯s worth of rations. He pocketed all this, just so that it didn¡¯t go to waste, of course. Once he was sure the corpses had nothing left of any use or value, he dragged their bodies into the pit. His squad had been made up of sixteen hobgoblin scouts, including himself. When all fifteen bodies were in the pit, he set about dousing them with the lamp oil that he found in the dwarf¡¯s pack. The oil caught quickly and the bodies began to cook. Ninetoes turned away from the pit, doing his best to ignore the fact that the smell of the roasting corpses reminded him of pork. Ninetoes didn¡¯t look forward to returning to his people. While squads were lost occasionally, losing the entirety of his first command and worse, being the only survivor, was worthy of punishment. He¡¯d be stripped of his command to be sure, but he worried what else he might face. With few other options available, however, he set out for home, angling his course by the sun. His situation would only be worse were he to have been found to not only to have failed so horribly, but also to have shirked his duty to report on the disaster. 2. A Welcome Home The journey back to his village was not a long one and although Ninetoes knew instinctively the way back, he held no memories of the trail or, when it came into sight, his village. As with most settlements of hobgoblins, his village was tucked away, hidden in a small valley and closed off from the ¡°civilised¡± world by the deep forests of Myr. The only reasonable access into the valley was defended by a deep trench and wooden palisade, constantly guarded by two full squads of Dakhec Druul soldiers, led by a Druul Sarm. As Ninetoes approached, he could sense the scouts hidden within the surrounding woods, placed to warn of an incoming attack. By the time his footsteps brought him to the base of the valley, the Druul would know of his presence, condition and lack of companions. He was prepared to accept punishment for his failure but it was a sad truth that such losses were accepted when dealing with Adventurers. He would likely lose honour and be forced back into the ranks, never again to be trusted with the ¡®Glory of Command.¡¯ He hoped that returning with some loot and the knowledge that his squad had successfully killed one of the Adventurers would help his case and that he would avoid execution. While he walked, he enjoyed the warmth of what was likely to be one of the last days of Summer. His village (shouldn¡¯t it have a name?) was well protected from the elements, sheltered from the worst of the Winter blizzards. Winter outside of the valley was extremely harsh. Hunting parties during the Winter months didn¡¯t even bother to track and kill beasts, instead simply collecting the frozen corpses of animals and monsters alike. The nearest human settlement was a week¡¯s journey away to the north and was only braved during the winter in the direst of need. Most of the other races of Adrenon shunned the hobgoblins and all those they called, ¡®The Dark Races¡¯. In a harsh Winter, however, they were willing to trade to keep their fat bellies full. Ninetoes had never been out of the forest, the furthest he could remember travelling being to the ambush site. Dark thoughts carried him the rest of the way to his village and soon he found himself stood before the tall wooden gate of the palisade, flanked on either side by the guard towers, each containing four heavily armed soldiers. Above the gate stood the Druul Sarm, ¡®The Doom Sword.¡¯ He was tall for a hobgoblin and powerfully built. He wore chainmail, likely stolen during a raid or ambush, and strapped to his back was a heavy-looking greatsword, the favoured weapon of the best hob fighters. Over his armour he wore a black tabard with the Dakhec Druul¡¯s insignia: a sword surrounded by a circle of black fire. Strangely, given the gaps in his memory, Ninetoes recognised this soldier and knew his name to be Krand. Briefly pondering why he knew this hobgoblin¡¯s name but those of his entire squad escaped him, he was taken by surprise at the Sarm¡¯s barked order, ¡°Down on your knees, Maggot! Hands above your head!¡± Shocked by this treatment, Ninetoes didn¡¯t immediately move to obey. An arrow whistled past his face, landing in the ground behind him. Harmless it may have been but the message was clear enough, ¡®Obey. Or die.¡¯ The sensible option was to do as he was told. As he sank to his knees, Ninetoes also kept his eyes to the ground, so as not to anger the Sarm and escalate the situation further. A few moments later the gate was opened and two soldiers came out to stand near Ninetoes. ¡°Strip him naked and tie his hands, the Krem wants to speak with him. And keep those bows on ¡®im,¡± came the commanding tone of the Sarm. The Krem was the council of his village, made up of the warriors who had wrapped themselves in the most glory. They normally only met to discuss the issue of war with other settlements; only the Gods knew what they wanted with Ninetoes. Hoping that the common soldiers, like himself, would take a little pity on him, Ninetoes tried pleading with them in a whisper, ¡°What do the Krem want with me?¡± ¡°Dunno,¡± whispered one. ¡°Shuddup!¡± the other said too loudly, catching the attention of the Sarm. ¡°No talking to the prisoner!¡± ¡°Prisoner? What in the Abyss?¡± shouted Ninetoes, struggling ineffectually to halt the two guards, who now held him by the arms. ¡°Heh! How did you ever earn a command? Look at his arms, I can get my fingers to touch,¡± mocked one of the guards. Even more strange, Ninetoes had always considered himself tall, or at least average height. Now, the guards, who were simply holding him upright, were effectively carrying him, Ninetoes being unable to reach the floor with anything more than what was left of his toes. Ninetoes accepted his fate and allowed himself to be carried into the village and towards the Krem Hall. Only, they didn¡¯t take him to the Krem Hall but instead towards the home of Elder Brev. *** Elder Brev was different from most of the people in Ninetoes village. Not only was he capable of magic, he also just seemed to be more of... a person. Now that Ninetoes came to think of it, not only could he not name most of the people in his village, he noticed that for a great many of them he simply couldn¡¯t remember anything about them. No, that wasn¡¯t true. He knew, for example, that the women he had just been dragged passed were the washer women. They, well, washed the clothes. He could remember a lifetime of seeing them do this, talking to them, being at Festivals with them but nothing else, as though they were so insignificant as to be almost non-existent. But Elder Brev was strange. People told stories about him. Like, when he was a boy, Brev discovered his affinity for magic when he was lost in the forest. Nearly starving, he was saved when a bear had brought him a dead fish. The bear had stayed with him and now looked as ancient as Brev did. There were other stories about the Elder too. Stories of adventures, of the tragedies that had befallen him. But, in all these stories, no-one else in the village was ever mentioned. Pondering these thoughts, Ninetoes was carried into Elder Brev¡¯s home. The main building itself wasn¡¯t large but it was the best constructed in all the village. The walls of the ground floor were made entirely of stone, the second storey made of beautiful and intricately carved wood. No-one in the village knew how to build such structures and so everyone assumed Brev had built it himself, using his magic. Ninetoes was brought through a small hallway into a large room that was obviously meant for relaxation, as the floor was covered in furs and soft cushions. Comfort was something not normally sought after by hobgoblins. Brev was so different in so many ways, yet nobody had ever commented on this. Already sat at one end of the room was Brev and with him were some of the other members of the Krem. None of them, however, was wearing armour, meaning this could not be a council of war. Everyone, including Brev, carried a weapon of course, they were Dakhec Druul. ¡°Welcome Farn,¡± said Elder Brev, motioning for Ninetoes to be released. After his rough treatment, the use of his rank was a surprise to Ninetoes. The guards simply let go of Ninetoes and he was pitched, unceremoniously onto the floor. Catching himself on his palms, he sucked in a sudden and sharp breath as the wound on his hand painfully reopened .The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. The Elder Brev considered Ninetoes. ¡°You make a pitiful sight. I¡¯m surprised that such a weak-looking specimen managed to complete the Dakhec Druul training, let alone become a Farn. Your arms are too slim swing a sword and your colour is a maroon shared by only the weakest of our tribe.¡± As Ninetoes rallied himself in the face of Brev¡¯s harsh words and intense stare, his eyes locked with the Elder¡¯s and something changed. A look of curiosity came over the Elder¡¯s face. ¡°Here, let me see your hand,¡± offered Brev, standing and moving towards Ninetoes. Brev¡¯s voice was soft but commanding and Ninetoes thrust his hand forward without hesitation. Brev took Ninetoes¡¯ injured hand in his own and carefully unwrapped the bandages. ¡°You¡¯ve bandaged this well. Were you trained as a Healer?¡± he asked as he worked. ¡°No Elder. I had the basic training, like all who aspire to be Dakhec Druul but found no affinity for the Healing Arts.¡± Around the room, the members of the Krem murmured amongst themselves in a concerned tone as Ninetoes finished speaking. At a rustling sound behind him, Ninetoes turned to look over his shoulder to see the two guards had drawn weapons, with the ancient bear growling low in its throat. ¡°Peace. Everyone, calm yourselves,¡± commanded Brev and the murmuring settled down. The guards lowered their weapons but kept them drawn and ready. As Ninetoes watched, Brev¡¯s hand glowed a warm, green light and placed his palm to Ninetoes¡¯ own. The dull ache in his hand ceased almost immediately and, as he watched, the rough and swollen edges of the wound sealed themselves closed. Everyone knew the Elder had the power to heal with magic of course, but for it to be used to heal a Farn like himself and for such a minor wound... He attempted to stutter out his gratitude but words failed him. Elder Brev simply smiled at him. Emboldened by Brev¡¯s warmth, Ninetoes took a risk. ¡°Elder, why have I been brought here. I expected to report and be punished by the Curn. It is not so rare that a squad will be wiped out by a band of Adventurers or monsters. Why have the Krem been brought to judge my fate?¡± Brev¡¯s smile deepened and his face became melancholy. ¡°Young one, you are correct. Whole squads are lost more than rarely and more often than not to Adventurers. What is rare, however, is for anyone to return.¡± Leaving that to hang in the air, Elder Brev returned to his place at the back of the room, while Ninetoes knelt on the floor in the middle of the room. Borik, Ninetoes¡¯ Curn, rose to speak, addressing Ninetoes directly. ¡°Farn, you were given command of a squad of scouts correct?¡± ¡°Sir, yes Sir,¡± responded Ninetoes instantly. ¡°And what were your orders?¡± Borik continued. ¡°Sir, to prepare an ambush on the human trail. Using this ambush we were to waylay travellers making for the harvest markets and secure as much loot and goods as could be carried back.¡± ¡°Then why do you return without your men or any goods?¡± ¡°Sir, we attempted to ambush a small group of Adventurers. I misjudged their strength and, although we succeeded in killing their Healer, they wiped out my entire squad.¡± ¡°But you survived.¡± Taking his focus off Ninetoes the Curn turned and directed his next words to the rest of the assembled Commanders, ¡°so then, you are either a coward, in league with the enemy or blessed by the Gods.¡± Ninetoes was shocked. He¡¯d been so busy surviving, it hadn¡¯t occurred to him to wonder why he hadn¡¯t been killed in the battle. ¡°Sir, I¡­¡± he was lost, he had no answer. Adventurers never left survivors. There were stories of them keeping people alive to torture them for information, but they¡¯d still kill the unfortunate captive afterwards. Ninetoes had even heard of Adventurers sending a single survivor back into a settlement to offer terms of surrender, but for a soldier to survive the battle and the Adventurers to just leave? It never happened. The Carn continued as if Ninetoes hadn¡¯t spoken. ¡°The prisoner will be executed by hanging at dawn as a reminder to all who would abandon their brothers in arms. Take him away.¡± Ninetoes was speechless, how could one error lead to this? What a fool, he should never have returned. ¡°Hold!¡± Elder Brev¡¯s voice rang out clear and loud, ¡°I still have more questions to ask before the Farn¡¯s fate is decided.¡± The Carn glowered but did not dare argue with the Elder in his own home. ¡°Farn,¡± the Elder¡¯s rich voice brought Ninetoes¡¯ attention back to the present, ¡°What is your name?¡± An odd question, to be sure. Ninetoes had lived in this village all his life, ¡°Ninetoes, Elder.¡± The stunned silence that followed that statement was oppressive, Ninetoes could feel the weight of it bearing him down. ¡°And, Ninetoes,¡± Brev smiled again, ¡°when you awoke, after the battle, did you feel changed in any way?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure I understand Elder, changed how?¡± ¡°Stronger or faster? Did you suddenly know things that you had no right knowing? Could you perhaps do magic, where before you could not?¡± Ninetoes was prepared to argue no, that of course he wasn¡¯t different, but then the events of the past few days came back to him in a flash. The desperate fight with the dire rats, bandaging his hand, the weakness he now felt in his arms. ¡°Yes Elder, I think I do feel different,¡± Ninetoes began to shake uncontrollably. Panicking, his voice rose, ¡°What has happened to me Elder? Am I sick? Did one of the Adventurers do something to me? Please, help me understand.¡± ¡°Calm yourself Ninetoes. Since you woke up, did you discover any odd pieces of parchment amongst your belongings, covered in strange symbols?¡± Ninetoes shook his head. ¡°Guard, bring me the Farn¡¯s belongings!¡± ¡°Sir!¡± the guard responded, hefting Ninetoes¡¯ pack and other gear over to the Elder. His weapons, Ninetoes noticed, were not with his other belongings. The Elder began to empty the dwarf¡¯s pack, laying each of the items out onto the floor in a neat line in front of Ninetoes, largest to smallest. As he reached the vial of potion and the strange gem that Ninetoes had paid little notice to before he murmured a grunt of interest. With that, the great brown bear rose and padded softly around to Ninetoes¡¯ flank. Finally, Brev came to Ninetoes¡¯ own satchel. He¡¯d stuffed this into the dwarf¡¯s superior quality backpack. Again the guard performed the same process, even counting out the silver and copper coins and stacking them in neat piles. Just as he¡¯d found in his men¡¯s packs there were twelve silver coins, fifteen copper coins and a day of rations. But, there was one more item in Ninetoes¡¯ satchel, a single sheet of rolled parchment. Elder Brev picked this up and unrolled it, taking a moment to examine it before passing it to Ninetoes, ¡°Do you recognise these symbols?¡± he asked as he gestured towards them. Ninetoes took the document and examined the symbols, knowing that they¡¯d mean nothing to him as he had never learned to read. Focussing on the page he saw that it was divided into a number of different sections with symbols in different areas. Only, they weren¡¯t just symbols, they were words, and numbers, and at the top in thick and striking letters was his name: Ninetoes. That was enough. Ninetoes was done with being surprised for one day. Perhaps if he attacked the Curn, his superior would kill him and this fucking day would all be over! Or, he¡¯d simply offer to dig his own grave and then bury himself in it. Anything to make this day end! Without realising it, he¡¯d begun to hyperventilate. Hang on, hyper-what? How did he know that word or the definition that came with it? The edges of his vision started to blur and his chest started to ache. ¡°Calm yourself.¡± Elder Brev¡¯s soothing words came with a warm and glowing hand on Ninetoes¡¯ shoulder, ¡°I have seen this before and can help you. But-¡± and then he leaned in to Ninetoes, whispering the next words for him alone, ¡°-it¡¯s going to get a lot worse first...¡± Then he shoved Ninetoes back, using the momentum to stand, all in one fluid movement. Once on his feet he snarled angrily and kicked Ninetoes squarely in the chin. Falling back, his head hit the floor. Taken by surprise, Ninetoes nearly lost consciousness but fought to stay awake. Foggily he could hear the Elder issuing more commands. ¡°Collect his belongings, he is to be exiled! He¡¯s too dangerous to kill. Carn, order a full two squads to meet me at the gate. They¡¯ll need half a week¡¯s rations and be fully equipped for battle. Guards tie him up and then bring him to the gate,¡± and, after a short pause, ¡°Well, what are you all waiting for? Move!¡± Those words were the last Ninetoes heard, as the bear¡¯s thick paw slammed into the back of his head. Reapers Sorrow: Book 2 of the Villains Chronicle - Prologue Southampton, 1985 Arthur unlocked his front door and stepped in from the damp and grey weather. It was 10:30 and he¡¯d already been to uni, suffering through one of Wilkins¡¯ lectures. Jesus wept but the man could go on! Worse still the man only ever had morning lectures; 8:30 in the morning! Seriously, what was the world coming to? Arthur had only gone to uni to avoid working for a few more years. And to shut up his bell-end father of course. Well, he was home now and just in time for his mid-morning cereal. He¡¯d saved the last of the coco pops from the variety pack for a special treat. After that, he¡¯d have a nice cup of tea and, if he was still hungry, some toast. Then maybe, just maybe he¡¯d feel up to working on his dissertation. . . . He was right. Debbie, 21 from Sheffield, had sorted him out and now he felt ready to start doing some work. As he passed through the lounge with his tea and toast he noticed the paper and made a mental note to check for deposits into next week¡¯s spankbank. Climbing to the attic bedroom of his shared house, Arthur closed the door with his bottom and settled to his desk. A stack of books was waiting to be read as part of his dissertation, ¡®Fantasy novels of the 20th century: A retreat from modern life?¡¯ but lying next to them was Arthur¡¯s notebook. He tried, he really did, to pick up a textbook, but, he reasoned, there were still two days left due until the deadline, so it couldn¡¯t hurt to spend a little time making some notes. Arthur¡¯s father had given him an ultimatum, go to university and get a degree first or take his place in the family firm as soon as he finished 6th Form. He¡¯d been a tosser like that ever since Arthur¡¯s mum had died. Always berating him for reading too much and not having any friends. Arthur didn¡¯t see the problem. Most of the kids at school were pillocks. They never left him be, calling him minger, throwing food at him or laughing at his briefcase. Why, on earth, would he want to spend any more time with them? He supposed his dad had been alright once, in fact he¡¯d bought Arthur his copy of the Lord of the Rings. But, after mum had died, dad had thrown himself into work. By the time he was 11 Arthur could use the hob and would make his own dinner. His father seemed to live off of crackers, cheese and scotch and not a night had gone by where he didn¡¯t fall asleep in front of the TV. Arthur simply learned to avoid him and so avoid his temper. For Arthur, going to uni was a relief... for both of them. His dad sent Arthur a cheque once a month in an envelope addressed by his secretary, Mrs Goggins. As a child, Arthur had loved going into his father¡¯s office. Mrs Goggins, who Arthur was always sure had been the inspiration for the elderly postmistress, always had a bowl of boiled sweets on her desk. When Arthur first came to uni, Mrs Goggins would slip a couple of sweets into the envelope, but when his father had commented to her at the staff Christmas party that Arthur was getting ¡°a little tubby¡± she¡¯d stopped. Well, his dad could go fuck himself if he thought Arthur was going anywhere near those bloody offices. He¡¯d get a job as far away as possible, like Portsmouth or Reading, that¡¯d piss off the old man. He still had the same copy of the Lord of the Rings, the spine cracked and creased, he¡¯d read it so many times. That was where he¡¯d first fallen in love with fantasy and where he¡¯d drawn his first ideas for his own world. Or, at least he thought he did. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. He¡¯d woken up one night during 6th Form covered in sweat, which was a unique experience for someone who considered wanking exercise, bursting with ideas. He¡¯d grabbed the first thing to hand and started writing. Since then he¡¯d filled half a dozen exercise books with notes, details, pictures and maps. His imagination never seemed to leave him alone. Opening his notebook to where he¡¯d left off yesterday night, he read through his last few notes. He¡¯d had an idea for a city within his world. It was called Ffestyn and it was a city of men, halflings and orcs. The men ruled, keeping the orcs as slaves and using the halflings as traders and artisans. He¡¯d had the most vivid of dreams the night before and wanted to add in some details for a character he¡¯d invented, a villain perhaps, called Xavier Clemons. As he wrote, time seemed to pass by like his childhood had, in a confusing blur of actions and reactions. His stomach grumbled and, looking at his clock, he realised it was early evening. He decided to stick a pizza in the oven and then watch some tele. While he waited for the pizza to cook, he let his mind wander to thoughts of Adrenon, a world of his creation. He could see the ancient walls of Ffestyn, hear the seagulls drifting on the warm breeze off of the Sweetsea and feel its waves lapping at his feet. Reaching down he cupped some water and drank it down, sure enough is tasted of sugar. Looking along the beach he could see a beautiful maiden, cooling her feet in the surf while collecting sea shells. Looking up she notices him. Her face takes on a look of confusion, ¡°From where do you hail, to be wearing such strange garments?¡± Looking down, Arthur noted that the same Transformers t-shirt was stretched over his belly. Nice one imagination! He thought. Even in my dreams I¡¯m a fat bastard! Looking up into her eyes ¡°Hailing lady, my name is¡­¡± Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep! Shaken out of his daydreaming Arthur coughed through black smoke and he grabbed a tea towel and opened the oven. His pizza was now a black charcoal mess. ¡°What the fuck Forsythe?! Can¡¯t you even make pizza without burning the fucking house down?!¡± Jack, one of Arthur¡¯s housemates had come bustling into the kitchen. Arthur cringed. ¡°Sorry Jack, I¡¯ll clear it up.¡± ¡°You¡¯d fucking better! I¡¯m sick of this shit!¡± he raged. ¡°Calm down Jack, it was an accident, wasn¡¯t it Arthur?¡± his saviour had arrived, as she always did. Arthur had met Liz own his first day and at the end of the first year they¡¯d moved into a house with Jack and Dave. She was, in Arthur¡¯s mind, perfect. Like him, she studied Literature. She¡¯d read all of Tolkien¡¯s books and loads of other greats. And, she was so pretty. ¡°Everyday it¡¯s something else.¡± Jack continued. Jack was, in Arthur¡¯s humble opinion, a wanker. He studied Geography and was in the running club, so clearly, he was a Neanderthal. ¡°If his dad didn¡¯t pay double rent we¡¯d never have let him move in with us.¡± Arthur recognised that Jack was working himself up into a fall on meltdown. He seemed to enjoy getting worked up, especially with Arthur. ¡°That¡¯s enough Jack. He made a mistake and he¡¯s cleaning it up, there¡¯s no need to be a dick about it. Miami Vice is about to start, so why don¡¯t you go watch that and I¡¯ll put the kettle on while Arthur clears up?¡± Liz was always doing stuff like this for Arthur, although he had no idea why, every day something Arthur did seem to piss Jack off and yet every day Liz came to his rescue. ¡°What was it this time Arthur? Day dreaming about Adrenon? Or picturing the page 3 model?¡± said Liz, grinning as she filled the kettle from the sink. ¡°Adrenon again. It¡¯s so real Liz, I feel like I¡¯m there.¡± Arthur responded, almost pleading with her to believe him. ¡°I assume you still haven¡¯t finished your dissertation?¡± She gave him her older sister-tone. ¡°No but I¡¯ve got everything I need, just gotta settle down to it. I make some beans on toast and then I¡¯ll go and get out of everyone¡¯s hair. I¡¯ll finish it tonight, I promise.¡± It was so important to him that she didn¡¯t think he was a complete fuck up. ¡°Look, between you and me, I think Miami Vice is for knobheads. So why don¡¯t I come upstairs and help you finish?¡± Arthur nearly turned her down but then she gave him that smile and he said, ¡°That¡¯d be great, thanks.¡± 2.1 Questions Ninetoes stared aghast at his character sheet. Confusion was flooding his system and for a time, he simply sat with his mouth agape. When his faculties returned, he scanned more closely through the document, looking firstly for what had changed, hoping that he¡¯d find answers.
Character name: Ninetoes Race: Hobgoblin (+1 End, +1 Int)
Level: 12th Experience points: 75,565/88,000
Class: Wizard Specialism: Necromancer
Hit points: 252/252 Mana points: 380/380
Stamina points: 190/190
Base stats: Strength - 15 (9) Agility - 19 (16) Endurance - 25 Intelligence - 38 (33) Wisdom - 18 Charisma - 12 (7) Varied stats: Fitness - 21 Will - 24
Languages: Common - Fluent Goblinoid - Native Arcane - Poor Kavralarian - Fluent Armour Class: Armour 17+ Wizard Armour 10. Total: 27
Skills
Basic first aid: Level 5 - Beginner Can use basic bandages and simple ointments to heal minor wounds. One-handed blades: Level 13 - Poor +13% damage. +13% chance of critical hit. Fighting Stance - Your footwork is now more efficient, allowing you to swing with more power, increasing damage by 5%.
Trap Building: Level 4 - Beginner Can use mundane items to create Poor Quality traps. Sneak and Hide: Level 7 - Beginner +14% chance of success to attempts at concealing yourself.
Longbow: Level 13 - Poor +13% damage. +13% chance of critical hit. Quick Shot - Can fire at twice the speed, losing 50% accuracy. Light armour: Level 12 - Poor 12% damage reduction while wearing light armour.
Medium armour: Level 13 - Beginner 3% damage reduction while wearing medium armour. Arcana: Level 10 - Poor Can understand basic and developed spell concepts and language
Channelling: Level 13 - Poor Can channel 12 mana points into or out of an object, spell or creature per second Skinning & Butchering: Level 3 - Beginner +3% chance to discover an item/component/ingredient/material of one level of rarity above the creature¡¯s base level.
Ritual Casting: Level 2 - Beginner -2% cost of mana required to cast a ritual spell.
Spell Schools
Evocation - Level 8 Beginner +8% damage for evocation spells Conjuration - Level 4 Beginner -4% casting time for conjuration spells
Transmutation - Level 4 Beginner +4% duration for transmutation spells Divination - Level 5 Beginner -5% time for divination casting times.
Abjuration - Level 8 Beginner +8% duration for abjuration spells Illusion - Level 5 Beginner +5 duration of illusion spells
Enchantment - Level 2 Beginner +2 duration of enchantment spells Necromancy- Level 41 Practitioner +50% potency of necromancy spells Death¡¯s touch I - Your familiarity for the energy of unlife has given you +10% resistance to necrotic damage. Knowledge Arcane I - Allows the caster to choose one Apprentice ranked spell. Necromancy Savant I - Necromancy spells cost you 25% less to cast. Control Undead - Doubles the number of undead the caster can control.
Spells
Burning Hands - Level 4 Evocation Casting time - Instantaneous Mana Cost - 30 points Duration - Channelling Lvl 1. Shoots a 10ft cone of fire, dealing 5 points of fire damage per second. Lvl 4. Increases to a 15 ft cone. Find Familiar - Level 10 Conjuration Casting time - One minute Mana Cost - 80 points Duration - Constant Range - Boundless Lvl 1. Conjures a spirit familiar, bonded to the caster through an empathic link. Lvl 3. Allows the caster to expend their own Endurance points to enhance their familiar¡¯s. Lvl 4. Link with bonded creature can now allow simple images to be communicated. Lvl 5. Enhanced Bond - See Familiar stats.
Mending - Level 3 Transmutation Casting time - 15 seconds Mana Cost - 5 points Lvl 1. Repairs minor, non-magical damage or sharpens non-magical items. Lvl 2. Allows caster to repair/sharpen two similar items within the duration of the casting. Shocking Strike - Level 6 Evocation Casting time - 2 seconds Mana Cost - 5 points Duration - 5 seconds or until used Lvl 1. Deals 4-7 points of lightning damage Lvl 2. 5% chance of stunning a target for 5-10 seconds. Lvl 5. Damage increase to 6-12 points of lightning damage.
Arcane Bolt - Level 6 Evocation Casting time - 1 second Mana Cost - 25 points Duration - Instantaneous Lvl 1. Shoots a bolt of magical force up to 100ft. dealing 5-30 points of force damage Lvl 4. Increases range to 120 ft. Wizard Armour - Level 5 Abjuration Casting time - 1 minute Mana Cost - 20 points Duration - 5 hours Lvl 1. Reduces 10% of mundane damage received. Lvl 3. Allows caster to increase damage reduction by channelling more mana into the armour. Damage will then drain mana points, instead of hit points.
Minor Illusion - Level 5 Illusion Casting time - 10 seconds Mana Cost - 25 points Duration - Concentration Lvl 1. Creates an illusory object of the casters design. Can be no larger than 1 foot by 1 foot by 1 foot. Lvl 5. Increases size of illusion to 5 foot by five foot by five foot. Charisma - Level 1 Enchantment Casting time - 1 minute Mana Cost - 75 points Duration - 1 minute Lvl 1. Makes you more appealing to people, making them more friendly towards you.
Identify - Level 6 Divination Casting time - 1 second Mana Cost - 10 points Duration - Concentration Lvl 1. Identifies any simple or uncommon objects or creatures or the uncommon properties of an object. Lvl 6. Identified rare objects or creatures or the rare properties of an object. Comprehend Languages - Level 3 Divination Casting time - Instant Mana Cost - 20 points Duration - 1 hour Lvl 1. Each casting allows you to read and understand one unknown language.
Grim Void - Level 41 Necromancy Casting time - 1 second Mana Cost - 50 points Duration - Concentration Lvl 1. Allows caster to drain the life force from one creature or vegetation that it touches at a rate of 3 HP per second. Lvl 4. Increases rate of drain to 6 HP per second. Lvl 11. Allows the caster to channel healing energy into another creature at a rate of 1:4 of HP gained.Requires touch. Lvl 18. Increases rate of drain to 12 HP per second. Lvl 26. Increases rate of drain to 24 HP per second. Lvl 36. Gives the caster a 5% chance to absorb knowledge from the host. Arcane Step - Level 5Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Conjuration Casting time - 1 second Mana Cost - 60 points Duration - Instantaneous Lvl 1. Allows caster to teleport to a location they can see within 50. Lvl 4. Caster can carry additional creatures of a similar size at an added cost of 240 mana per creature.
Barrier - Level 4 Abjuration Casting time - 1 second Mana Cost - 50 points Duration - 5 seconds Lvl 1. Creates a magical shield that absorbs 100 points of ranged damage. Cloaking Shadow - Level 4 Illusion Casting time - 1 minute Mana Cost - 100 points Duration - 1 hour Lvl 1. Cloaks the target in shadows, making them more difficult to detect, increases Sneak and Hide skill by a factor of 2.
Force Wave - Level 10 (Item) Evocation Casting time - 1 second Duration - Instantaneous Lvl 10. Creates a 15 foot radius wave of force that shoots out in 360 degrees from the caster. Deals 6-30 points of force damage of anything caught within the area of effect. Create Undead - Level 21 Necromancy Casting time - 1 minute Mana Cost - 50 points per level of creature Duration - Until dispelled or the undead is destroyed. Lvl 1. Allows the caster to reanimate and control one corpse into an unintelligent undead. Lvl 3. Allows the caster to reassert control over up to two unintelligent undead. Lvl 9. Allows the caster to reanimate and control five corpses into unintelligent undead. Or to reassert control over four. Lvl 20. Allows the caster to reanimate and control ten unintelligent or one an intelligent undead. Or to reassert control over sixteen.
Reaper¡¯s Sorrow - Level 15 Necromancy Casting time - 1 minute Mana Cost - 250 points Duration - 24 hours Lvl 1. Once cast, if the recipient of this spell is reduced to 0 HP, the spell triggers and saves them from death and restores a number of hit points equal to the caster¡¯s level of skill with the spell.
Ritual Spells
Dispel Magic Abjuration Casting time - 1 minute Mana Cost - Variable Duration - Instantaneous Allows the caster to cancel active magical effects within an object or creature. Faseer Conjuration Casting time - Ten minutes Mana Cost - 150 points Duration - Concentration Allows the caster to control a floating eye. The caster can see through the eye as though it were their own but is blind to their own surroundings. The caster can also control the movement of the eye which moves at 5 foot per second in any direction.
Unspent ability points - 10, Unspent skill points - 17. The first and most obvious thing that he noted was his level; Level 12! How on Adrenon had he jumped six levels? He knew Bofar has been powerful, but to earn enough experience points to jump so high? Surely Bofar couldn¡¯t have been that powerful. The question was so confusing because of a little piece of information that Foresto had shared during their training. At the time, he¡¯d been blasting Ninetoes with a constant stream of pressurized water, forcing the hobgoblin to maintain his Wizard Armour while under attack. This seemed to be the wicked little creature¡¯s favourite method of tuition actually. He¡¯d explained something that few but the most learned understood, spelling out why it was so difficult to gain enough experience to become truly powerful. He explained that the necessary experience needed each level was significantly more than the previous, almost double in most cases and that most people never gained more than a few levels as they never did anything particularly dangerous or out of the ordinary, like fighting monsters or discovering lost cities. There was such an abundance of Adventurers, who so willingly threw themselves into such life or death situations, that there was never really need for other folk to do so. Occasionally a person would have the means or interest to travel and so gain some experience, but even most of them never went beyond level 10. Reaching level 10, he¡¯d explained, required a cumulative experience gain of nearly twenty thousand experience points and the next level was nearly double again. What made this even worse, was that the greatest gains of experience came from fighting the most dangerous of monsters which was, in Foresto¡¯s opinion, just plain stupid. Foresto admitted that he was nearly two hundred years old and was nearly level 11, which meant, in terms of raw experience, Ninetoes had more than double his greying mentor! Even more odd was that he now had a Specialism, Necromancer. Now, while he¡¯d found Grim Void incredibly useful, it was his only necromancy spell. Or, at least, it had been. Apparently he¡¯d now gained two more necromancy spells, Create Undead and Reaper¡¯s Sorrow. How had he learned those? And, what¡¯s more, how had he reached a skill level of 41 in Necromancy? Before the battle he¡¯d still been a mere beginner in the spell school, now he¡¯d leapt dozens of levels in the skill and had gained some incredible bonuses too, not that he understood how to utilise any of them, of course. Except, as he thought about it, he realised that he did. AAAAASARRRRRZZZGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH! *** Honestly, it was times like this that Libby seriously wondered why she felt so attached to the ugly, foolish hobgoblin. Furthermore, why in all Adrenon she called him Master was frankly beyond her, as clearly she was the clever one. As she looked down at his unconscious form, she wondered yet again how he¡¯d lasted this long. Although, she had to admit, that on this occasion he only seemed to be reading his character sheet before he screamed his effeminate scream and collapsed. For a moment she¡¯d been worried, checking over his body for signs of a wound or perhaps some kind of leftover damage from his battle with the wizard. But, when her search turned up nothing of interest, apart from some leftover hardtack in her master¡¯s pocket, she instead decided to stand guard, while eating the morsel; one of them had to stay conscious and well-fed. *** Some time later, Ninetoes awoke, his head still throbbing from the massive onslaught of information he¡¯d absorbed in a matter of seconds. Groggily, he sat up, casting his gaze over the, now darkened, rooftop. Nearby, he found his familiar, preening herself while sitting atop the parapet. ¡°Hello Little One. I see you¡¯re well.¡± Indeed master, and you are¡­ well? ¡°I am sweet one, I am. Just, tired? My mind feels crammed and stretched thin all at once.¡± Hmmm, that sounds uncomfortable. Perhaps some cheese would make you feel better? She suggested hopefully. ¡°Cheese? I¡¯m not sure¡­¡± Now now master, you¡¯re beginning to look thin, I can see your ribs. You really should eat more. ¡°Yes, yes perhaps you¡¯re right my little tea leaf.¡± He replied, placing his hand into his bag of holding. Libby¡¯s eyes gleamed with excitement, which turned onto sorrow as Ninetoes continued. ¡°But, first¡­¡± he said, taking his hand away from the bag, ¡°... I¡¯d rather we relocated, the bodies are starting to smell.¡± So saying, he headed down the spiral staircase in search of more pleasant surroundings. Two floors down, he found what must have once been the dining room, a grand and beautifully rich space with velvet covered chairs and a gorgeous mahogany table running the length of the oblong-shaped room. For a moment he considered taking his ease here, he was afterall now the lord of this castle. But ultimately, the room seemed too empty and austere for his needs and so, heading through a plain wooden door at the back of the room, he found the kitchen. This room was still a massive space, but somehow felt cosier and more to his tastes. The same magic that had protected so many of the treasures of this ancient kingdom were at play here in the castle and he quickly found a large pile of wood that appeared to have been chopped only that morning and, within a few short minutes, he had a large fire burning in the main hearth. At first, he¡¯d only planned to use the fire¡¯s warmth to ward off the chills of the ever more cold nights, but as he gazed across the homely space, he started to form a plan. It had been weeks since his last home cooked meal, having survived on mainly trail rations and cheese. Certainly his taste for the fungus had increased of late, but he wanted something¡­ more. Thus it was that he found himself searching the kitchen for the vittles needed to make tomac pa. A taste of home would warm his soul, although for a moment his stomach felt even more empty at the thought of how much further he needed to travel and grow before he could actually return home. Tomac pa was simple enough to make, but took a lifetime to master and Ninetoes was no master cook. First he searched for a cauldron to hang over the fire but his search turned up nothing to use and, he noticed, there was nothing in the hearth to hang it from anyway. His search did, however, turn up a strange valve attached to a pipe that left the hearth and ran to the ceiling. Following its course, he found that it divided into four smaller pipes, each one leading to a quartet of stoves. Turning the valve, he heard a sound like rushing water and, as he approached a stove, he found that it was already giving off immense heat. Checking over the vast contraption, he found yet more dials. One of which, he was pretty sure would manipulate the heat of the stove. Gingerly turning the others, he was surprised when a steady flame sprang forth from three circular vents on top of the stove. He realised that this must be how the ancients had cooked, a mixture of magic and engineering that must have allowed those without magic to benefit from it. Emboldened by his discovery, he set to work chopping meat and vegetables from his bag of holding, which he then cooked in a skillet over the open flame. As the meat simmered, he boiled and mashed potatoes and once everything was piping hot and merrily crispy, he spread the potatoes over the top of the other ingredients and finally placed the whole lot into the oven to finish cooking. *** Libby has been beside herself throughout the entire process, at first asking, then demanding and finally begging for a little cheese or even some hardtack, rather than be tortured with his ¡°cooking¡±! But, as the hobgoblin reached into the oven with a pair of blackened tongs and the smell of the hotpot was released, the cheeseboard mutineer quietened enough to climb onto her master¡¯s shoulder and greedily take in the incredible smells. As Ninetoes removed a block of cheese from his bag, her breathing quickened in anticipation and, when he removed his knife and began cutting small slivers of the wondrous buttery bliss, she nearly bit him to end her torture. The anticipation was almost too much, the strange struggle with the unknown power within the device on the castle roof paling in comparison to this torment. But then, her Master, the centre of her world, the most wonderful creature ever to walk on two legs, used a knife to cut into his creation and the smells it released were incredible. Libby had never smelt anything so divine, she was only a squirrel after all. Or, at least, she had only been a squirrel, now she was so much more. Now, she was alive. *** Ninetoes took a moment to appreciate Libby¡¯s silence, before spooning a large helping of the tomac pa onto a plate and placing it in front of her. ¡°Be careful Little One, it¡¯ll be h¡­¡± He tried to warn his familiar. But he needn¡¯t have bothered, as Libby was already wolfing down the meal. Aaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwwhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm! Master! This is soooo good. Not for the first time, Ninetoes thanked the gods that his connection to Libby meant that they could speak telepathically, because otherwise he¡¯d hear little of what she had to say on a subject, so often was her mouth full of food. Why have you never cooked this for me before? Have you been keeping this to yourself? She demanded, her tone accusatory. Ah yes, he reasoned, perhaps it would be better sometimes if she couldn¡¯t talk. I have not kept it from you, we have simply been too busy staying alive. Up until now. He replied, using his own mind to speak, while he enjoyed his meal. It wasn¡¯t perfect, not like it was made in his village, but it was excellent and while his stomach filled, his aches and pains and the empty feeling in his chest eased a little. Smiling, he dragged a chair over to the hearth and sat with his back to its warmth. Finishing his meal he leaned back contentedly and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of warmth and a full stomach. When he opened them, his eyes fell onto the statuesque form of Bluzag, who stood in the dining hall, in front of the door leading into the kitchen. His half-ogre ally had followed the hobgoblin¡¯s every instruction since the battle on the rooftop without question. Ninetoes first look over his character sheet had offered some answers to this strange behaviour and he thought perhaps he had some idea of what had happened. He thought that rather than save his ally¡¯s life, he had instead turned him into an unwavering and obedient undead servant. As he considered this more deeply, his new found knowledge filled in some of the gaps. Bluzag was not only a servant but a Wight, an undead that would serve Ninetoes in whatever means he demanded, even walking into harm''s way, if he so commanded it. Bluzag, however, was more than this. As a Wight, he was classed as an ¡°intelligent¡± undead, meaning that he both maintained some of his knowledge and skills from his life before he¡¯d died and, more thrillingly so, he could continue to learn and gain skills and abilities. Ninetoes had inadvertently created the perfect walking tank, someone that would stand as a towering bulwark between Ninetoes and his enemies, without ever faltering or even feeling pain. While he grieved for his fallen friend and felt guilty for his part in turning him into this¡­ creature, he was certainly glad that it had turned out so well¡­ for him. Still, what Ninetoes needed, more than anything, was more answers. The knowledge that spirrelled through his mind told him much, but it didn¡¯t offer him any answers as to how he had become so strong or how he¡¯d become a Necromancer. Some of those questions he realised would have to wait until he returned to Raveslan and spoke with Foresto. For now, he would have to content himself with learning all he could from his character sheet. Reaching into his bag again, he pulled out the three sheaves of parchment; Wait, three? The first two were his own and Libby¡¯s, much as they had been since he¡¯d last looked, but now there was a third, this one apparently belonging to Bluzag.
Undead name: Bluzag Race: Half-ogre Wight (+1 Str, +1 End)
Bond Level: 12th Bonded Wizard: Ninetoes
Hit points: 594/594 Mana points: None
Stamina points: 430/430
Class: Warrior Specialism:
Base stats: Strength - 47 Agility - 16 Endurance - 43 Intelligence - 9 Wisdom - 8 Charisma - 7
Languages: Common - Basic Understanding Goblinoid - Basic Understanding Giant - Basic Understanding Armour Class: Armour 10 + Shield 20 Total: 30
Racial Abilities
Tough: The half-ogre is tougher and hardier than most creatures. +10% more hit points.
Learned Abilities
Charging Bull - Level 4 Cool down - 25 seconds Stamina Cost - 50 points Lvl 1. After travelling at least 15 feet in a straight line, user adds 50% damage to the next attack and has a 10% chance to knock over the target. Whirlwind strike - Level 3 Cool down - 30 seconds Stamina Cost - 50 points Lvl 1. Creates an attack that spins 360 degrees that hits all enemies within 5 feet for 50% damage. Lvl 3. Increases damage to 60%.
Learned Skills
One-handed bludgeoning weapons: Level 4 - Beginner +4% damage. +4% chance of critical hit.
Spell Casting Affinities - None
Unspent upgrade points - 12 Bluzag¡¯s character sheet seemed to offer only more questions, this was infuriating! No. Don¡¯t do that. Stop yourself. Ninetoes reprimanded himself. He was clever, he could work this out. Firstly, Bluzag¡¯s ¡°Bonded Level¡± was twelve. Well, that was easy enough to riddle, as it was the same as Ninetoes, who was also noted as the ¡°Bonded Wizard¡±. Thus, it seemed reasonable to assume that Bluzag¡¯s bonded level would increase in line with his own level. Checking over his stats, something seemed wrong with Bluzag¡¯s hit points. Even with the added ten per cent from the Tough racial ability, Bluzag still seemed to have too many. Ninetoes knew that his own hit points came from his Fitness rating multiplied by his level and that his Fitness rating came from an average of his Strength, Endurance and Agility scores. Bluzag¡¯s agility was pretty low however, which would pull the average down quite a bit. Perhaps it was something to do with his class, Warrior. Ninetoes knew that when he¡¯d chosen his own class of Wizard, it had changed how his mana was equated, no longer using an average of Wisdom, Intelligence and Charisma, but instead using only Intelligence. If Ninetoes maths was correct, then Bluzag¡¯s hit points were coming from an average of just his Strength and Endurance scores. Well, for now at least, this was an acceptable answer for Ninetoes. The rest of Bluzag¡¯s character sheet seemed to be skills that he¡¯d learned in life, as none of them were skills Ninetoes had ever seen before. None of these skills were especially high, clearly due to Bluzag having spent most of his life as a pack mule for Adventurers. Well, that would start to change, if he was going to be Ninetoes¡¯ meatshield. To start with, Ninetoes wanted to spend some of the upgrade points the Wight had. He reasoned that, like Libby, the upgrade points could be spent on increasing Bluzag¡¯s stats, but he wondered if he could also increase Bluzag¡¯s skills as well. As he considered this, his mind found the answers in the knowledge he¡¯d recently received, that indeed upgrade points could be spent on skills and ability points and that because Bluzag was a servant to Ninetoes, he could spend the points for the wight. He also understood that, as he¡¯d discovered with Libby, at each threshold of ten ability points, new abilities or skills would become available. With this in mind, Ninetoes started considering how to spend the points. Looking first at the ability points, Ninetoes noted that Strength, Intelligence, Wisdom and Charisma were all close to a threshold and so he wondered how these might affect his servan- er, ally. Certainly Intelligence seemed a must. It was only a single point and increasing Libby¡¯s had given her the ability to communicate and later to cast magic of her own. Since the battle, Bluzag had not uttered a word, instead simply staring blankly at Ninetoes. Even when Ninetoes had commanded it to speak, nothing. Decision made, Ninetoes focussed and placed a point in Intelligence and, as he watched the character sheet, not only did the Intelligence score increase, but each of the languages on the parchment changed from Basic Understanding to Beginner. ¡°Bluzag my friend? Can you understand me? Can you speak?¡± ¡°Yes Master.¡± Came the monotonic response. ¡°Phew, this is excellent news and how do you feel?¡± He asked. ¡°I do not understand the question Master.¡± Bluzag drawled, his voice never changing in lilt or timbre. ¡°Hmmm, perhaps if I placed more points into Intelligence¡­¡± He seriously considered it. With eleven points left over, he could have crammed them all into Intelligence and maybe Bluzag would come a little back to himself. He owed it to the half-ogre, didn¡¯t he? After all, the brute had given his life fighting alongside him. But, no. He wouldn¡¯t do it. If he was to grow strong enough to return to his people, he couldn¡¯t be wasting resources on such notions. Worse still, if his understanding was correct, then Bluzag would only get one point every time Ninetoes himself levelled up and, knowing what it had taken to reach level 12, he didn¡¯t see that happening anytime soon. No, he must be more careful. Bluzag was now his tank, his bulwark. Ninetoes needed to make decisions based upon that. And so the next three points went into Strength, the score now reaching 50. Firstly his hit points increased to six hundred and thirteen, which meant that Ninetoes hypothesis about how they were equated was correct. But, more exciting, Bluzag gained a new skill, Powerstrike.
Power strike - Level 1 Cool down - 10 seconds Stamina Cost - 25 points Lvl 1. Adds 25% damage to the next attack.
This seemed pretty good and definitely something that he could use. With that in mind, he immediately used four points to upgrade the skill to level 5. To his joy, the skill gained an extra trait at level 4, increasing the additional damage to thirty per cent. Curious, Ninetoes wanted to place an upgrade point into Charging Bull to see if it gained a trait, as most of the skills he¡¯d seen gained at least one within every five levels. Deeming it worth it, Ninetoes did so. But, while the skill level increased, nothing else changed. A shame, but nothing worth losing sleep over. With only three points left, Ninetoes looked over the other areas he could improve and pondered what gains might be earned from reaching the Wisdom and Charisma thresholds. As much as he debated it, he couldn¡¯t think of anything that would make the cost worth it and so, for the time being, he elected to keep hold of the points until he had more information. Checking over Libby¡¯s character sheet, he noted that she had gained three levels herself and decided he¡¯d take the time to help her level up. When he suggested it to her, she lazily explained how she¡¯d already spent her upgrade points, two into Intelligence, to increase her mana pool and one into Agility. Scanning over her sheet he could see that she¡¯d also reached a threshold on Agility and that her Zippy skill had been upgraded to include Quick-Witted. It seemed to have evolved to include her increased spellcasting ability. She could now, once per day, create an illusory copy of herself to help distract a foe. It was odd that the Agility skill had provided such a bonus and he made a mental note to ask Foresto about it. With Bluzag¡¯s and Libby¡¯s upgrade points spent, Ninetoes thought about his own, but as he did so his mouth stretched into a wide yawn. ¡°Ahhhhwww! Well, my love. Perhaps we should rest through the night and in the morning, consider our next move.¡± He called to the room at large. As he searched for his familiar however, he discovered that she was way ahead of him. Curled up on the cushion he¡¯d kept for her, which she¡¯d evidently dragged from his bag to the fireplace, was his truest friend. Laying his own bedroll down next to her, Ninetoes quickly drifted into a long and peaceful sleep. 2.2 Answers Ninetoes woke to the morning¡¯s bright welcome; yawning deeply and wincing from the crick in his neck from sleeping on the hard floor. Magic had healed all of his wounds from the previous day¡¯s trials but his body had still, it appeared, required a good night¡¯s sleep to throw off all of the lingering effects. Bluzag still stood inert at the door leading into the dining hall and a cursory glance showed him that his familiar yet again filling her belly. Clearly every point of intelligence that the little rodent possessed had gone into cleverly solving the problem of how to gain access to more of the tomac pa, that Ninetoes had left inside the stove, with the dish¡¯s lid still on! Somehow, she¡¯d fashioned a ramp of sorts and slid the entire dish to the floor, then levered off the lid with a knife. She was currently spooning what appeared to be a second helping of the pie into a bowl with a ladle. Well, at least she¡¯s using her own crockery. Noting, as he watched her, her expanding belly, Ninetoes crossed the intervening space and grabbed up the pie dish and Libby¡¯s own bowl in a single assault maneuver, ¡°One helping is enough, you¡¯re getting fat little one. No more for you until dinner.¡± Two helpings. She replied, managing to send her disapproval and ire with the same thought. I was just getting myself some breakfast, seeing as you had elected to sleep in, yet again¡­ Master She added, almost as an afterthought. ¡°Well, I am awake now and we have much to do today. I¡¯d like to check over the castle for any more loot and then take our leave of this lifeless city by noon.¡± He summarised. His plans were simple enough. His bag of holding was almost totally full with books and food but he wanted to pick over the rest of the castle. He simply didn¡¯t have the means to carry much more and he¡¯d need a solution to that, he planned to leave nothing behind that might come in handy. As far as he was concerned, the books were worth more than their weight in gold, but if what Bofar had told him was true, then this had once been the home of a king and thus, he hoped to find a king¡¯s hoard of treasures. He was also, however, conscious of time. While he had plenty of food and water, Foresto had set him this quest more than a week ago, presuming it to be a quick task to simply check in on an old colleague and he didn¡¯t want the gnome thinking he¡¯d shirked in his task. Finally, he was keen to be back amongst the living. He could return to this place anytime, it¡¯s treasures safe from the average grave robbers, due to its seclusion. While he broke his fast with an apple, he retrieved his Character Sheet, intending to spend his own Ability and Skill points. The parchment told him that he now had ten unspent Ability points and a whopping seventeen Skill points to spend. Considering this, he realised that the numbers were off. He¡¯d previously been earning two ability points and three skill points per level, plus one in both Intelligence and Endurance because of his race. Before the battle he had been a seventh level wizard and had increased by five levels to his current level of twelve. Based upon this, his Ability points were correct, but he seemed to have two too many Skill points. Focusing on his character sheet, the information provided itself and his character sheet changed slightly to provide the answer; after level ten, he received four skill points instead of three. While he¡¯d prepared the previous evening¡¯s meal, he¡¯d thought long and hard about how to spend his points. After witnessing the benefits that Bluzag had gained from reaching his Intelligence threshold, Ninetoes was keen to experience some of the same gains. His closest two scores were Intelligence and Agility, but both were buffed by items, his own scores printed in red brackets next to the total score. He hypothesised that he would only gain the threshold benefits by crossing his personal scores, but he wanted to test the theory and so, concentrating, he placed a point into Agility. While both pairs of numbers increased, he gained no additional benefits. A shame to be sure, but not unexpected and it proved his hypothesis. Agility was still one of the closest Ability scores he had to a threshold and so, as he¡¯d already decided to do the previous evening, he pumped three more points into the score. As he¡¯d hoped, as his base score reached twenty, a new skill became available as a benefit.
Dodging: Level 1 - Beginner +1% chance to completely dodge an attack targeted at you.
He could certainly see the uses of such a skill, although he was surprised he hadn¡¯t learned the skill himself, simply through successfully dodging attacks in the past. Perhaps reaching the Ability score threshold was only one of the prerequisites of attaining certain skills? His next closest was Wisdom, at eighteen. As Foresto had told him many times, Wisdom and Intelligence were a Wizard¡¯s most important ability scores and, while Ninetoes wasn¡¯t sure that was completely true for him, he¡¯d certainly felt the lack of mana more than once and the recharge simply took too long, he needed to increase the score as much as possible and so he dropped two points into it straight away. He had a mind to put all four of his remaining points in as well, but was curious to see if he gained a threshold benefit first. He was not disappointed.
Trance: Level 1 - Beginner By concentrating you enter a meditative trance and gain +1% mana regeneration outside of combat situations.
The skill, while still weak at only one per cent, was brilliant and meant that, out of battle he could regain his mana more quickly, he would have to practice the skill as often as possible. It also helped make his decision and the other four points went straight into Wisdom as well. The more difficult decision to make by far was how to spend his skill points. While seventeen was a huge boon, he¡¯d likely be getting few more anytime soon and he had so many useful skills, two more now, since he¡¯d considered this problem at length the previous evening. His apple finished, he decided to try and kill two birds with one stone. Rising from his chair and with a mental command to Libby, he started his exploration of the keep. At the same time he pondered his choices. His massive boon in necromancy and the information dump his brain was still trying to work through had given him some useful insight into the way that schools of magic levelled. It seemed that as each skill ranked up they gained new facets and benefits, much like he gained from the thresholds of his ability points. Within the spell school of Necromancy he¡¯d gained a number of benefits, which definitely gave him cause for excitement. It also gave him a moment of pause. While he¡¯d gained two new necromancy spells when he¡¯d levelled up, he hadn¡¯t understood where they¡¯d come from, now he understood. One, he guessed Create Undead, had come from levelling up his skill in necromancy to the Apprentice rank. But the other spell¡¯s origin was still a mystery. That was until, checking through his other necromancy spell, Grim Void, he noticed the level 36 ability he gained that gave him a five per cent chance to absorb knowledge from the target of his spell. He must have inadvertently absorbed the knowledge of how to perform Reaper¡¯s Sorrow from Bofar and that must have been the spell that had meant that the dwarven mage hadn¡¯t died from Bluzag¡¯s earth shattering surprise attack on the rooftop; a spell that had cost his ally his life and nearly his and Libby¡¯s own. He vowed then and there, never to let his arrogance or foolishness cost another friend their life. With this vow in mind, he stopped deliberating and spent four skill points to increase Abjuration and a further four to increase Evocation to level 10, thus earning them both the rank of Poor. Their rank benefits showed clearly on the character sheet.
Evocation - Level 10 Poor +10% damage for evocation spells Damage Arcane I - +10% damage with chosen damage type (cold, fire, lightning, force). * Abjuration - Level 10 Poor +10% duration for abjuration spells Abjurer''s Choice - Choose one abjuration spell you already know to increase to skill level 10.*
Both rank benefits apparently came with a choice, something he¡¯d never experienced and made him wonder about whether he¡¯d had a choice of what necromancy spell he¡¯d earned at the Apprentice rank. His choice of which Abjuration spell he¡¯d choose was simple enough; Wizard¡¯s Armour had kept him alive so far. Making his choice, he was emboldened by the added protection it provided.
Wizard Armour - Level 10 Abjuration Casting time - 1 minute Mana Cost - 20 points Duration - 5 hours Lvl 1. Provides an Armour Class of 10. Lvl 3. Allows the caster to increase damage reduction by channelling more mana into the armour at a ratio of 20:1 (mana to AC). Lvl 8. Increases base AC class by +2.
His total armour class was now a whopping 29, almost as high as Bluzag¡¯s, who wore a heavy jacket and carried a massive tower shield, even if it did look like a dinner plate in his giant-sized hands. Moving onto his choice for Evocation, he found the decision more difficult. Currently he had no spells that caused cold damage, so that was out, although he made a mental note to try to find one as soon as possible. No, the choice was between force, lightning and fire. He¡¯d certainly found Shocking Strike to be incredibly useful, but if he was going to be a true Wizard, then he needed to stop relying on his martial and melee skills and focus on ranged attacks. So Burning Hands or Arcane Bolt? So far, his Arcane Bolt had been frankly a little lacklustre. Although, he admitted, that was because he¡¯d been more inclined to close the distance and fight his foes head on. No more! He chose force damage and his Evocation skill description changed to accommodate his choice. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. This left him with nine skill points left to spend. With all of the other choices he¡¯d made, he¡¯d been focussed on improving his magical prowess and these last nine points would be the same. It was only planning and a whole lot of luck that meant he¡¯d survived his confrontation with the wizard Bofar. He needed to find a party to work with and so he must become a wizard through and through. Concentrating on his area of greatest ability and the spell school that fate seemed to have chosen as his speciality, Ninetoes focussed on placing a couple of skill points into Necromancy, but unlike the other spell schools that he¡¯d needed to place two points into to gain a level, he met no resistance. What¡¯s more, instead of increasing to level 42 as he¡¯d intended, the skill jumped another level in 43. Checking his Character Sheet, worried that he¡¯d accidentally spent two more points he saw that he¡¯d still only spent the two points that he¡¯d intended. That¡¯s when it dawned on him, of course a Speciality would make it cheaper to level up the skill and, focussing on the word Specialism, Ninetoes mind absorbed a little more information. Firstly, it seemed, he was correct, that skill points spent in Necromancy didn¡¯t suffer the 2:1 ratio that he needed for the other schools. But more than that, he understood that casting Necromancy spells would be easier to learn and eventually easier and cheaper to cast. Well, he had seven skill points left and seven levels between him and the Competent rank in Necromancy. Coincidence? I think not. All seven remaining points went into his specialist school and the immediate gain was not to be sneezed at.
Necromancy- Level 50 Competent +50% potency of necromancy spells Death¡¯s touch I - Your familiarity for the energy of unlife has given you +10% resistance to necrotic damage. Knowledge Arcane I - Allows the caster to choose one Apprentice ranked spell. Necromancy Savant I - Necromancy spells cost you 25% less to cast. Control Undead - Doubles the number of undead the caster can control. Knowledge Arcane II - Allows the caster to choose one Competent ranked spell.*
Firstly, his Necromancy spells were now fifty per cent more powerful and cost less to cast, which meant that using Grim Void, he could drain and absorb thirty six hit points of life a second from his enemies, making it by far his most efficient and dangerous spell. Perhaps he needed to find a style of fighting that allowed him to get a little closer. More exciting however, was Knowledge Arcane II, he could choose a necromancy spell to learn and it would already be at the Competent level. But how do I choose? At the very thought a rush of information filled his mind, showing him the three choices available.
Curse Prerequisites - Necromancy Competent. Casting time - 10 seconds Mana Cost - 100 points Duration - 1 minute Lvl 50. Once cast, the target of this spell cannot regain hit points from magical healing for 1 minute.
Voice of the Void Prerequisites - Necromancy Competent. Casting time - 10 seconds Mana Cost - 50 points Duration - 1 minute Lvl 50. Cast on a corpse that has been dead for no more than 1 year and the spirit of the deceased will awaken and speak with the caster for the duration.
Grim Bolt Prerequisites - Necromancy Competent. Casting time - 1 second Mana Cost - 25 points Duration - Instantaneous Lvl 50. Shoots a bolt of magical death up to 150ft. dealing 12-72 points of necrotic damage. If the damage kills the target, there is a 1% chance that the creature becomes an unintelligent undead under the caster¡¯s command.
The choices were all incredible and made his decision all the more difficult. Alright, thought Ninetoes, let¡¯s just be logical. Firstly, as useful as it could be to speak with the dead, it didn¡¯t currently apply to anything the hobgoblin wanted to achieve, so Voice of the Void was discounted. Curse sounded brilliant and could clearly come in handy in a fight, but his mind kept coming back to the same issue, he needed more range and Grim Bolt did exactly that. On the surface, it appeared to be the necromancy version of the Arcane Bolt, which gave him another reason to choose it. Instead of gaining another spell that he¡¯d need to level up, he could use Grim Bolt instead of its Arcane brother and so not worry about levelling up the weaker spell. Plus, with his necromancy bonus, it would deal anywhere between eighteen and one hundred and eight damage, it was perfect. With his final choice made, Ninetoes smiled and focussed on the task of looting the keep. *** An hour later and Ninetoes¡¯ search had revealed a number of items of jewelry and a bundle of ancient coins. He¡¯d emptied a few pounds of food from his bag to accommodate the treasures, but as far as the hobgoblin was concerned, his search had been mostly fruitless. Clearly, he realised, his perspective had changed, for the loot he¡¯d collected was more wealth than most people would see in a lifetime. But, as far as he was concerned, it was not a king¡¯s hoard. He also hadn¡¯t found any more magic items. Well, he admitted, that wasn¡¯t strictly true. The keep was full of other magical devices like the stoves in the kitchens. Magic that worked alongside engineering marvels the likes of which Ninetoes had never heard of, many of them serving simple purposes, like switches to illuminate rooms or moving cupboards that could travel up through the keep¡¯s floors. None of this, of course, held anything more than a passing interest to Ninetoes, as he could hardly take them with him. He assumed that if he spent the time to pick over every inch of the city, he¡¯d be bound to find a great deal more wealth, but that could take years. No, for now at least, he¡¯d have to content himself with the treasures he¡¯d already found. That was, he reminded himself, except the spoils of the battle on the rooftop. Since he¡¯d left the rooftop the previous day, he¡¯d been reluctant to return there. The device, the Animator, had held Ninetoes in its sway and had it not been for Libby, it might have taken him completely. Thus it was that rather than going himself, he sent Bluzag to collect the bodies of the fallen bugbears and of the wizard, Bofar. In anticipation of leaving the best for last, Ninetoes checked over the bodies of the four bugbears first. There were two more, smashed on the cobblestones of the courtyard, but Ninetoes had already checked them over and found nothing of interest. Unsurprisingly, the bugbears had no weapons or armour that he could use, but between them they had enough pieces of armour to better equip Bluzag.
Plate Iron Greaves - Normal, Common Skill type: Heavy Armour Armour Class: 3
Full Oaken Shield - Normal, Common Skill type: Blocking Armour Class: 25
Plate Iron Helm - Normal, Common Skill type: Heavy Armour Armour Class: 5
Sadly, Bofar¡¯s fatal attack on the half-ogre had also burned a hole clear through Bluzag¡¯s Iron Scale Jacket, cutting its armour rating in half, but none of the bugbear¡¯s chest armour was even half the size it needed to be to fit Ninetoes¡¯ monstrous ally, so it would have to do for now. What was more concerning, however, was that there was still a small, yet clear, wound on the half-ogre¡¯s chest. He couldn¡¯t walk into Raveslan with his ally without scaring the townsfolk out of their wits. So, using a tabard, taken from one of the bugbears, Ninetoes covered the ghastly sight. Stepping back, he admired his handiwork, a smile stretching across his face. No one would ever notice. With that done, Ninetoes stepped up to the corpse of his enemy. In life, the dwarven evoker had seemed like an insurmountable foe and indeed, Ninetoes had nearly fallen to the mage. But now, laying there, he looked rather small. He¡¯d been overweight and now that Ninetoes thought about it, he¡¯d realised that the dwarf had been puffing when they¡¯d fought on the rooftop. Leaning down, he cast his gaze over the body. The wizard¡¯s robes were still sodden and sticky with blood and, rather than dirty his own hands, Ninetoes instructed Bluzag to do it. Once removed, the dwarf seemed even smaller still, his arms thin and weak looking. Screwing the robes into a ball, he thrust them into his bag, deciding to deal with them later. Apart from this, the body had only two items left on it. A ring and a bracer. Strange that someone so powerful should have so few items. No weapons, not even a bag. Then Ninetoes remembered the pavilion tent still outside and reasoned that the dwarf must have travelled light in preparation for combat. Casting Identify, Ninetoes inspected the two items. The ring was evidently mundane, simply more loot to add to his bag but the bracer shone with magical light.
Bracer of Fire Resistance - Fine, Uncommon Properties: Provides wearer with +30% resistance to fire damage.
Wow! This item was great. But he already had a pair of magical bracers. Slipping one off his wrist, he replaced it with the new bracer, hoping that he could gain the benefits of both items. But, while his character sheet now showed the fire resistance, it also showed that he¡¯d lost the benefits of the Guardman¡¯s Bracers. Ninetoes was loathe to lose the added Strength and Agility provided by the bracers, not to mention the slight bonus to his AC, but he had to start thinking and acting like a Wizard, so he called over Bluzag, pulling a length of cord from his satchel, hoping to affix his old bracers to the wight¡¯s arms. But, as he lifted them towards the half-ogre¡¯s wrists, something¡­ well, magical, happened. The bracers enlarged, to fit perfectly around Bluzag¡¯s forearms. Ninetoes was ecstatic. Bluzag was definitely becoming a bastion of defence for the hobgoblin.
Undead name: Bluzag Race: Half-ogre Wight (+1 Str, +1 End)
Bond Level: 12th Bonded Wizard: Ninetoes
Hit points: 627/627 Mana points: None
Stamina points: 430/430
Class: Warrior Specialism:
Base stats: Strength - 52 (50) Agility - 19 (16) Endurance - 43 Intelligence - 10 Wisdom - 8 Charisma - 7
Languages: Common - Basic Understanding Goblinoid - Basic Understanding Giant - Basic Understanding Armour Class: Armour 15 + Shield 25 Total: 40
Racial Abilities
Tough: The half-ogre is tougher and hardier than most creatures. +10% more hit points.
Learned Abilities
Charging Bull - Level 4 Cool down - 25 seconds Stamina Cost - 50 points Lvl 1. After travelling at least 15 feet in a straight line, user adds 50% damage to the next attack and has a 10% chance to knock over the target. Whirlwind strike - Level 3 Cool down - 30 seconds Stamina Cost - 50 points Lvl 1. Creates an attack that spins 360 degrees that hits all enemies within 5 feet for 50% damage. Lvl 3. Increases damage to 60%.
Power strike - Level 5 Cool down - 10 seconds Stamina Cost - 25 points Lvl 1. Adds 25% damage to the next attack.
Spell Casting Affinities - None
2.3 Leaving As Ninetoes checked over his gear, made sure his potions and weapons were in easy reach and found a suitable container for the leftover tomac pa, he sent Bluzag to carry the remains of his enemies and pile them in the courtyard. Once Ninetoes had completed his preparations, he joined the wight outside and, using oil he¡¯d found in the kitchen, coated the pile of corpses. A quick Burning Hands spell and the remains set ablaze. He planned to return to this ancient city, Kavralach Bofar had called it. He hoped it¡¯s treasure and knowledge would help to make him rich and powerful. Perhaps this could even be a home for his people, something worthy of the Dakhec Druul, maybe even a replacement for Vawshak Nye. Ninetoes had been born decades after the great fortress city had been lost, but his people¡¯s history was almost exclusively oral tradition and so every young hobgoblin had learned the stories of the stronghold. The stories told of massive stone walls, twenty feet deep and fifty feet high; of towers armed with all kinds of vicious machines that could rain death as far as the horizon. They told of a tower at the fortress¡¯ core, so tall that it touched the sky. Well, this city was a ruin to be sure, but perhaps it would give his people a place to grow strong again, it certainly offered better protection than the wooden palisades of his village. Crossing the courtyard, Ninetoes searched the twin towers of the barbican, finding both spaces all but empty of weapons and arms. It seemed that someone had cleared them out and, seeing as he knew the goblinoids hadn¡¯t ventured this far, he reckoned that it must have been the previous residents. He did find one item of use, a leather baldric, made to carry a weapon across someone¡¯s back. With a little ingenuity, some spare leather and copious use of the Mending spell, Ninetoes managed to enlarge it to fit Bluzag and allow it to hold his javelins. Bluzag had been carrying them in his shield hand until this point and although the wight never complained, it would clearly make him less effective at blocking. Considering this, Ninetoes realised that the half-ogre¡¯s Character Sheet did not have the Blocking skill. He knew from his lectures with Foresto that Blocking was a learned skill, related to the Strength stat. With this in mind, he decided that he would start training with Bluzag a little each day to hone their skills and try to develop tactics and Skills for working together. Just to be sure, Ninetoes checked over the massive wooden and iron gate, but even a cursory glance told him it was secure. Rather than make the structure insecure, he decided to leave the castle the way he¡¯d come in and so headed up onto the curtain walls via one of two staircases in the barbican. Reaching the top of the walls, Ninetoes sent Libby ahead to scout along the crenellations, as he still didn¡¯t know the fate of the goblins who had been outside of the walls. He was pretty sure they were dead, their lifeforce stolen by the Animator, but he had vowed to be more careful and thus his caution. Within moments his familiar returned to report that the goblins were still at their stations but that something was¡­ off. Ordering Bluzag to wait behind; the half-ogre not having a stealthy bone in his undead body. Ninetoes slunk along the walltop, ducking low behind the merlons. When he reached the corpse of the bugbear commander and the gap in the magical shield that he¡¯d used to enter the castle he stopped. Slowly, inch my careful inch, Ninetoes raised his head between the defences and spied down on the goblins beneath. As Libby had reported, they were all still on their feet and at their posts, four now standing guard on the palisade they¡¯d erected between the castle walls and the townhouses beyond. More were standing beyond it, leading towards the centre of their camp. He could even see some bugbears, holding the reigns of their worg mounts. Ninetoes could also quickly see what Libby had described as ¡®off¡¯. Not a single one moved. Not a muscle flinched amongst them, they stood statue-still, not even breathing¡­ and then it hit him, they were like Bluzag, they were undead. Oh no! This is not good! His panic made him express the thought in his mind. Indeed Master. Those things are like Bluzag aren¡¯t they? If they¡¯re all like that, then an army stands between us and escaping this lifeless city. It appears that the wizard¡¯s plan succeeded, at least in part. The same thoughts had been crossing his own mind, but it mattered little, they must find a way past them. Only, he had never fought anything undead before and so he had little knowledge of how to combat them, except... he did, he had mountains of knowledge about the undead, he was in fact the local expert on the subject. He was still trying to get used to the hoard of information about necromancy that was swirling around in his mind and had yet to make total sense of, but it seemed that if he concentrated on a specific question, that he already knew the answer to, he could, know it¡­ again? Hmm, now all I need to do is ask all the right questions. For now, he focussed on what he knew about undead. Based upon the fact that not a single one was moving or, doing anything really, he reasoned that they must be ¡®unintelligent¡¯ undead, meaning that they were simply animated husks that held little to none of the knowledge that their bodies had known in life, only maintaining the muscle memory to perform simple tasks and obey straight forward commands. These undead didn¡¯t need to sleep, eat or even breathe and while they were not particularly strong or combat effective, they would not cease from their last command until they were almost completely destroyed, thus making them the perfect form of infantry. Without commands, these undead would simply act towards their own self preservation, attacking anything that threatened them. This meant that, if Ninetoes was correct, these undead would ignore him and his allies, unless they were to attack one and then they might all attack his party, swamping them quickly. This might also mean, a greedy part of him pointed out, that as long as he was careful, there was nothing guarding the treasures in Bofar¡¯s tent. But first, he¡¯d need to test the idea. Gathering his focus, Ninetoes cast Minor Illusion, creating a simple copy of himself on the cobbled street below him, right in the centre of a group of undead. While one or two of the creatures turned their heads to look at the figure, not a single one moved towards it and while Ninetoes¡¯ Beginner ability with the spell meant that he couldn¡¯t make the illusory copy move it¡¯s limbs, he could still change the location of the figure. Doing so, he hoped would allow him to test whether the undead were simply ignoring an immobile target, but still not a single one moved to intercept his double and, once the illusion had moved from the cone of vision of those watching it, they simply turned their heads back, seemingly forgetting its existence. What do you think of Little One? Is it safe? He questioned his familiar, not wanting to make any decision that risked their lives without checking with her first. Mostly because he didn¡¯t want her to blame and scold him, when it inevitably went poorly. I think we must risk it Master. Based upon what we have already seen, they seem harmless. Perhaps if you were to ¡®step¡¯ down to the palisade to test it, then you could ¡®step¡¯ back if they become aggressive? She responded. While he wasn¡¯t keen upon the idea of risking himself in the attempt, he quickly accepted that he was the only choice. Firstly, he recharged his mana by channelling some out of his Gem of Power, bringing himself back to full. Then, holding a deep breath and concentrating on the small gap between the forceshield and the wall, he ¡®stepped¡¯ to the palisade below. He¡¯d had to step right next to one of the undead, but there had been no avoiding it, his spell limited in the distance it could carry him. Still holding onto his breath he waited. As the first of the undead took notice of him something very odd happened, like a wave centred on that first undead, every single creature within sight turned to look directly at Ninetoes. Within a moment, roughly forty pairs of lifeless eyes were gazing straight at the hobgoblin. To say that it was unnerving would be a massive understatement, Ninetoes was only glad he¡¯d had nothing more than an apple for breakfast, as his stomach dropped into his feet. For a moment, he nearly ¡®stepped¡¯ away, but then he overcame his initial fear and a logical thought crossed his mind, if they meant him harm, they¡¯d have moved to attack. Master?! Are you alright? Came his familiar¡¯s worried voice in his mind. I think so little one. They don¡¯t seem aggressive. But, why do they all look at you so? Those distant ones cannot have heard you. The same thought had occurred to Ninetoes and he definitely hadn¡¯t stopped considering his means of escaping the mob. He needed more information, however, and so he stepped forward, along the palisade, heading for a ramp a few feet away. To reach it, he would need to pass by the closest undead goblin, as the palisade was too narrow to permit him passage without the creature moving. ¡°Excuse me.¡± He whispered, more out of habit than any actual sense of courtesy and that¡¯s when things got even weirder. Not only did the creature in front of him move to the side, so did every other animate corpse within earshot. Ninetoes froze. What happened Master? Why did they all move? Libby''s voice was frantic and, as Ninetoes glanced back, he could see the squirrel attempting to squeeze through the gap in the forceshield. I¡­ I think they moved, because I asked them to? Ninetoes responded, the end of his reply becoming more question than answer, but it stopped Libby in her tracks and she moved back behind the protective field and clambered onto the top of the crenellations so that she had a better view. Well, then I suppose you try something else? Her response was also formed into a question and Ninetoes could certainly understand why. Alright, he could do this, but what should he ask them to do? ¡°Er¡­¡± he raised his voice to be heard by all those he could see, ¡°...um, please sit down.¡± WHUMPH! Every single undead creature that he could see, be it bugbear, goblin or worg, sat straight down with an audible slap of skin and leather behinds on the cobblestone floor. Huh! I really needed to come up with a new way of testing my undead. *** Over the next hour, Ninetoes did exactly that. Having the undead stand up, lie down, fetch things and run relays. The more he worked with them, the more he felt confident of his ability to command them and the stronger he felt the strand of magic that connected him to the many, many undead, with this confidence came the assuredness that these creatures offered no threat to him of his companions and so he informed Libby that it was safe and commanded her to join him. Soon, she too grew in security and became accustomed with their presence. Excited by his discovery, Ninetoes quickly ¡®stepped¡¯ back to the top of the wall and, taking Bluzag by the hand, ¡®stepped¡¯ back. Even with his mana topped off, he felt the strain of mana depletion as he ¡®arrived¡¯ and checking his Character Sheet, he found that the one single trip had cost him three hundred and sixty mana, one hundred and twenty mana more than the lvl 4 version of his skill quoted. He reasoned that this must have to do with Bluzag¡¯s massive size. He had hoped that such a large undertaking would level up the skill, but alas it did not. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Before he¡¯d gone to collect his ally, he¡¯d shouted out, his voice breaking the stillness and instructed the undead to stand at the far end of the camp. He had the feeling that they were more of them, many more. While he awaited their return, he walked the short distance to the pavilion tent in the centre of the goblinoid camp, excited by the prospect of taking ownership of Bofar¡¯s treasure. As he stepped into the gloom beneath the canvas, his dark vision kicked in and he quickly scanned the interior. It was much as he¡¯d left it, a small work station that held potion making equipment and a number of components, it also held a small collection of books and scrolls. Towards the back stood a cotbed, lavishly adorned with silk sheets and rich animal furs. Finally, stood proudly off to one side, were two chests, each one brimming with gold and platinum coins, colourful gems and items of jewelry. His underarms felt wet with perspiration as he took in the scene, it truly was a king¡¯s ransom! There must have been thousands of gold coins and the gems must be worth ten times as much; he was rich! His only problem now, was how to carry it all. His bag of holding was reaching its limits already, he¡¯d have to empty out some books¡­ or food? Yeah, he didn¡¯t need to carry so much food, he could hunt, or send Bluzag to do so. Without realising it, he¡¯d moved, Ninetoes found himself crouching before the treasure, his eyes gleaming with avarice. With this wealth and the castle behind him, his people would never want for anything. They could hire the best craftsman in the region to rebuild the homes around the city and he¡¯d be able to live with them once again, surrounded by his people. He reached out to pick up a handful of coins, the warm glow of the gold illuminating his callous hands and as his hands closed around the cool metal they clinked against one another. Turning his palm up to his face, he brought a coin closer to his mouth to bite down and test the metal, his teeth met only a little resistance before he left the canine indentation of his sharpest teeth, Gold! It¡¯s really gold! For a moment, he¡¯d worried that fate would cheat him and that the gold would be an illusion. Picking up a gem, he checked it over too. He had little knowledge or experience but they seemed real enough. On a hunch, he cast Identify and sure enough, the spell confirmed what he¡¯d hoped, the gem was real and, as he cast his gaze over the rest, so too were they all. The sweat under his arms was making him uncomfortable and so he removed his cloak, folding it and placing it in his pack. This was so much wealth, it was almost a little scary and, based upon the collection of coins just in his hands must be a mixture of wealth that Bofar had brought with him and loot his goblins had collected in the ancient city. In part, it had been this wealth and more importantly the power it could garner, that had drawn Bofar to find the lost stronghold. Ninetoes feared that others would come and steal it all from him. Such a thought galvanised him into action. Stepping out into the open space in front of the tent, Ninetoes removed his bag of holding and, turning it upside down he held a hand in front of the opening and clearly enunciated one word, ¡°Everything.¡± A deluge of items tumbled out of the bag, quickly piling in the space beneath, so much so that Ninetoes was forced to move to the side and let the items spill into a line of loot instead of a large heap. Some of the items he¡¯d almost forgotten existed, there was food, books, trinkets and gold. He¡¯d collected a goodly amount of his own treasure already, enough to consider himself rich, but his paltry findings were nothing in comparison to the hoard inside the tent. This then, is where he started, shovelling the gold in large handfuls into the mouth of his bag. The weight was such that he quickly grew tired and so, passing the bag to Bluzag, instructed the Wight to complete the task. Moving back outside, he shivered. The days were certainly growing colder and, if the heavy, dark clouds on the horizon were any indication, it would soon be the rainy season. He would not leave a penny behind, and so he must choose carefully what he could take with him. He considered for a moment using the undead to carry everything for him, but he knew that feared such decaying creatures and realised that this was not a viable solution. He could, however, use the undead to help him sort through the piles of items. It would also be a good test for just how much the creatures understood and the limits of the jobs they could perform. He¡¯d already worked out that he needed to concentrate on a single¡­ um¡­ unit?, when giving an instruction or all those in earshot would perform the same task. A useful trait in the right circumstances but it clearly wouldn¡¯t do now. Since he¡¯d been in the tent, a large number more of the undead had arrived. He mentally divided the group into quarters and then counted this group. He reached twenty six and so reasoned that there must already be more than a hundred. He didn¡¯t want so many tripping over his stuff and so he concentrated on a group of five, giving each the task of finding a different type of item, telling each to collect that type into a pile. The one he instructed to collect food set straight to the task, as did the creature he¡¯d told to stack the books. But the other three, who he¡¯d told to divide the treasure, weapons and potions simply stood stock still with vacant expressions across their faces. Indeed, all of the undead had the same look, but on these three the expression seemed even more devoid of sense. Clearly, this was their limit. Instead, he began standing the undead in groups of ten. As he did so, he concentrated on his Identify spell and checked over a number of the creatures.
Zombie Goblin - Level 8 Prime Stat - Endurance Prime Trait - Undead 22/22 HP 100XP
Zombie Bugbear- Level 10 Prime Stat - Endurance Prime Trait - Undead 41/41 HP 450XP
Zombie Worg - Level 4 Prime Stat - Endurance Prime Trait - Undead 36/36 HP 400XP
Alright, this was useful information. Now he had something more specific to call them and understood a little more about them. Although he¡¯d never seen the term ¡®Prime Stat¡¯ used before, it was fairly self explanatory and now he had an idea of the relative strengths of the different creatures. The Zombie Worg was obviously more dangerous than the goblin, despite the disparity between their levels, which made sense as the worg was much bigger and obviously stronger and faster than the goblin, even in its zombie form. Finally, his knowledge of necromancy told him that the ¡®Prime Trait¡¯ was the most powerful skill, ability or racial trait that the creature had. While they might hold other traits, this trait was predominant. Ninetoes also knew that the ¡®undead¡¯ trait was as he¡¯d previously understood, that undead didn¡¯t need sleep, sustenance or to breathe. It also revealed something else useful. Monster¡¯s also had Levels but they seemed to differ from Adventurers. As he¡¯d Identified these first three creatures, more undead had arrived, including a number of undead animals, including a flock of ravens, two boars and an entire plague of rats. As he identified a member of each group, he found that they resembled their larger brethren, all of them now having the Undead trait and their Prime Stat was now Endurance. All, that was, except for the ravens, whose Prime Stat was Agility. This, Ninetoes assumed, was due to their ability to fly, but he made a note to research this further. As the morning wore on, Ninetoes sorted through the piles for those things that he could absolutely not do without. He took enough for himself and Libby to survive off for a journey of twice the length than the one back to Raveslan, reasoning that this would serve him even if he ran into difficulty. His Adventurer¡¯s backpack carried all of his essentials, like a bedroll and mess kit, so he need not worry about those. He also began to pack all of the treasure that he¡¯d found before today. This included a number of items of jewelry, some coins and a simple silver ring with a black gem. This ring was one of the first pieces of loot he¡¯d ever found, taken from the corpse of a dark-elf, in the hollow of an ettercap. At the time, he¡¯d considered the item worth selling, but now, with so much other wealth and with his new specialism of ¡®dark¡¯ magic, he decided that a small affectation was in order and so he placed the ring on his own pinky finger. As he cast his gaze across the mounds of stuff, he considered how to be most efficient and take as much as possible. Firstly, he planned to keep Bluzag with him. Although the Wight was undead, apart from his wound and the pallor of his skin, there was nothing that made Bluzag look undead. Unlike the zombies, Bluzag¡¯s eyes now showed a degree of thought behind them and he¡¯d already proven himself capable of following more complex instructions. Ninetoes had already solved the issue of the unsightly wound and his pale skin could be explained simply as a poor constitution, although, if he could find a cloak big enough or a helmet that covered more of his face, that would be even better. With this in mind and due to Bluzag¡¯s prodigious strength score, Ninetoes intended to use him as a bit of a pack mule. ¡°Bluzag my friend. Search these nearby buildings for a large backpack. Once you have found one, or once you¡¯ve been through these five buildings,¡± he said pointing at each building in turn, ¡°return here to me.¡± ¡°Yes Master.¡± Came his deep droning response. As Ninetoes considered it, he added. ¡°If you find any treasure, weapons or armour, bring that as well.¡± ¡°Yes Master.¡± The wight said, before moving off. Ninetoes trusted that his servant understood his instructions, but to be sure, he turned to his familiar, who was currently lazing on the furs of Bofar¡¯s cot. Little one? Please go with him and ensure he does as I¡¯ve told him. Libby didn¡¯t move and, if it hadn¡¯t been for their connection, he might have believed that she was actually asleep, but for once it worked against the cheeky little rodent. Hurrmph. Ergh, you have no idea how hard it is to get comfortable with all these undead around. She sent back, stretching languorously, before skittering off to do as he bid. Standing alone, well apart from the scores of undead, Ninetoes cast his gaze over the stack of books. He simply couldn¡¯t take them all and so he¡¯d have to be more picky. Firstly, he packed the spellbooks he¡¯d found, Corvash¡¯s Monograph on Animation and the three books that he¡¯d chosen for Foresto. Next, he selected all of the books on the various schools of magic. He¡¯d found some for Evocation, Abjuration, Transmutation and Conjuration, he started packing these, but as he reached the second to last book, his bag of holding reached its limit and wouldn¡¯t allow him to place anymore within. He set those books aside and a couple more; one, a book on types of monster and the other a book about potions, with the intent of packing these with Bluzag. Leftover was a sizable stack of books, hundreds of spell components and ingredients and, finally, Libby¡¯s cushion. Clearly he couldn¡¯t leave the last item behind and so he stuffed this straight into his backpack. He also wanted to take all of the components, which created a problem. While the weight of these items wasn¡¯t significant, there were so many of them and many of them were so tiny or delicate, having Bluzag carry them would be inefficient. Ninetoes thought about it and hypothesised that his bag of holding worked on weight rather than size and shape and so, removing all of the books, he started placing all of the other items in. He found that they all fit and what was more, he seemed to have space leftover. The cumbersome books would travel with Bluzag. While he waited, Ninetoes continued to concentrate on his Identify spell, analysing each and every zombie that joined the hoard. By the time the half-ogre and his familiar had returned, Ninetoes had levelled up both the spell¡¯s level and his ability with Divination. Across Bluzag¡¯s shoulders was what appeared to be a large saddle bag, the pocket at the front bulging with a large brown cloak. This was all we could find of his size Master. But the cloak seems to fit him perfectly. ¡°Good work. Both of you, we can certainly make something out of the bag.¡± Due to his earlier successes, Ninetoes quickly set to work. Using strips of leather from some old pieces of armour he found lying around in the camp, Ninetoes used his Mending spell to create a strap that went under Bluzag¡¯s weapon arm to connect the front and rear pouches of the saddle bags. He made sure that it sat over the shoulder opposite the one with the quiver of javelins. Having Bluzag raise his shield and maul, he tested the bag and made a few adjustments to ensure that the wight could still move freely. Within ten minutes it was finished and packed with all of the books, all of them fitting snugly into the back pouch, leaving the front one mostly empty. Looking up at the sky, Ninetoes searched for the sun. While it was mostly hidden behind the clouds, he could still reckon its location and judged the time to be around midday, perfect. Turning around, Ninetoes took in the army of undead that had gathered to his call, there must be hundreds. ¡°Um.... all of you,¡± he called, ¡°stay here and, if the need arises, stop anyone or anything from entering the castle.¡± He wouldn¡¯t risk anyone stealing the stronghold. With that, he turned and began making his way out of the city. Libby shot ahead, instinctively acting as his scout, while Bluzag trailed a few steps behind. A grin stretched across his face. He was returning to complete his first quest, already richer and more powerful than he could have possibly imagined.